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[lol-im-done]

would anyone read a the last of us x hunger games AU? the idea came into my head today and if anyone is willing to read it, maybe I can do a part 1 or 2? Thinking Joel X Reader, could also be original character, let me know your thoughts!

[lol-im-done]

moment's silence

#NightSkyChallenge: Prompt 7 — The night I lost a bet. [“You know what this means, don’t you?”] [6.6k]

— Summary: Joel has no idea why Bill gifts him with the book. Had he rambled about you that much? It seemed impossible—to be fair, but surely there were other things besides your name on his tongue. Besides how much you love your books and care for them. Besides how much he's learned since he met you because of them.

Either way, the book means you lost the bet. Joel cares for very little since Outbreak day, but this—oh, this he took it to heart. You'd lost, and he intended on collecting his prize.

— A/n: Canon-divergence; Reader and Tess met Joel at the same time, and all three became a tight-knit unit. | 🏷️ Tags & warnings⚠️: explicit mature content, minors DNI; age gap, mentions of canon-typical violence, confessions, touch starved, dry humping, oral sex (m receiving), slow & deep sex, but also rough sex?, dirty talk, little spoon Joel.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤmasterlist | read on ao3

All he can think about when he sees the bookshelf is your words, even if they were spoken on a whim years ago.

"There's no fucking way you can find a classic in good conditions anymore—not even Joel 'I can find anything' Miller is immune to decay and years of nature taking over. They're all gone, Joel. I just have to accept it. I bet there's not a single one that hasn't been wrecked by either people's ignorance or fucking mold eating every single page."

He remembered those words as clear as the day's first rays of light.

Not because of them, precisely. Because of what came after. He had blurted, "Bet what?" out of sheer instinct, only for you to reply with:

"Anything."

Maybe you were being metaphorical at the time, but Joel took it seriously. He outreached his hand for you to shake. "I'll take that bet."

If he never found a book, nothing would change.

If he won, on the other hand. Well—there's something Joel's been wanting from you for a long, long time.

That's why when he enters Bill's house for the first time, Joel stops dead in his tracks on the corridor leading to the kitchen.

You'd been to the house before with him and Tess.

Just like him, you had stood outside the whole time while Tess and Frank went about their rambles and deals. You, Joel, and Bill were all cut out from the same cloth—death stares etched onto your faces as if you were marble, grumbled conversation that came up here and there between long sips of wine.

Neither you nor Joel had been inside yet.

It's the third time he visits, first one without you, and he sees it—

Bookshelf.

One of Bill's doors is open on the way to the kitchen revealing what used to be an office but now looks more like a symbiosis of an atelier and library. It's — nice, Joel guesses.

It's not his thing.

Books — those are your thing.

Joel has no idea what connects you to the pages, but he knows it runs deeper than just academic pleasure, or snobbiness (an assumption made by many who met you).

It's as if whatever elements existed within paper, inked with words that strung together beautiful stories — it moved you.

Joel was entranced by the way you were able to quote several passages.

Few things remained that were worthy of admiration, or interest. He easily placed your small and precious book collection high above on his list.

That, and your ability to bring those stories to life somehow.

"Are you a reader?" Bill's voice is expected — Joel heard his steps approaching and stopping behind him when he did.

He scanned all the shelves, so he looks back to answer Bill. "Not really. Tess never mentioned who's the little Librarian between us? Our reader's absent today."

"If my, uh... —

If mine... if they brought strangers into our situation... I wouldn't be happy either."

"Oh. Well. They seem to listen to you as well as mine listens to me."

"I hope she feels better soon." Bill says the words and they sound so real. Spoken freely, not through gritted teeth or accompanied by his usual stiff shoulders.

Joel's hands rested on his hips. "Yeah." He hated this part — with Bill and Frank it was harder to not talk about things. He was pretty sure Bill didn't even like him, just like Joel didn't like him that much, but they saw each other. Understood one another. "Yeah, me too."

"The medicine you gave — it helped." That came out through gritted teeth. Joel held back from smiling at the unspoken admission—you sold me real shit. It's saving my partner. Thanks. "Frank's talking about — lavender. Herb garden and all. God."

Joel snickers and they exchange a look. "Good luck with that."

"I'll definitely need it." Bill's hands pat his sides, and Joel recognizes his motion before bolting out of a conversation. "Feel free to look at them," he waves a hand in direction of the shelf before leaving Joel there alone.

He does look.

One by one, Joel checks the titles because if you were here, that's what you'd do, and "when in doubt, always do what you must".

He hated that your words stuck to his brain so easily.

They were sticky like honey, which also resembled your voice. Or maybe that was only the way he heard it — Joel enjoyed listening to you talk.

"When in doubt, always do what you must" came after he left behind some supplies in order to help during a run, and you'd gotten mad at him for the first time.

It was then that Joel noticed how fucking tough you were.

Complete the mission. Help when you can. Do what you must.

If he was here already, he might as well read all the titles. Who knew how long he'd last? If he'd be here again, or if you would?

When his eyes land on Frankenstein, Joel knows he hit the jackpot.

That's when the memory of your bet sparks behind his eyelids, and he's cursed with the way you smiled that day.

Anything.

There was something Joel wanted, badly.

He cut out his own permission to want anything that strayed from finding Tommy again, getting clues to somehow discover a way to find his brother, get him back, but you planted the seed in his subconscious by simply existing — he was powerless to stop it.

One second, you and Tess walked into his life.

The next, he had on one side a best friend who cursed as much as him and on the other a menace who popped into his subconscious state, giving him dreams for the first time in years.

You two brought back a sense of humanity into his day-to-day life.

In return, Joel tried his best to do good for both of you.

Keep you safe however he could. Slip extra ration cards into your stack so you could more.

Small things like that — things that he later realized were only the seeds for the want that blossomed.

Joel wanted you out of the smuggling business.

He wanted you to be safe.

It was fucking ridiculous.

Your hand never missed the trigger timing — if there was anyone around the neighborhoods he lived more skilled in knives than you, he'd eat his own hand, and you were clever.

Quick, sharp, rational.

Despite all of that, he hated the sight of your back whenever a deal had them going outside.

Every time he saw a pistol or any other weapon in your hands, he wanted to throw it away as hard as he could.

And here he was, facing Frankenstein.

Anything.

Fuck. Joel hated how he hesitated.

If it belonged to anyone else, his hands would've already made the book meet the secret parts of his backpack, but he couldn't do this to contacts so good like Frank and Bill.

He couldn't fuck up this one.

Shit.

(Maybe he did like the two men, after all. Just a little.)

Joel has no idea why Bill gifts him the book.

One minute they're sitting alone drinking scotch while Tess and Frank finish up the trade and the next, they're talking about old hobbies they regretted not paying more attention to. Conversing like two normal people. Like Tess and Frank do, only without all the niceness and excitement.

At one point, Bill asks, "Did you see anything you liked?"

It takes a second for Joel to realize he's talking about the room and the shelf. Joel shakes his head. "Wasn't a big fan of readin'." A lie, he thinks. "Even that's a stretch. I — probably should've done it more now that I think about it."

Bill's answer is a hum. "Yeah. Lots of things I wish I should've done. Properly. Piano's one of them."

Joel eyes the item in the room. He recalls you and Tess talking about how Frank was lucky to know an instrument. "Frank's good at it, though?"

"He was rustier when he arrived, but yeah — he's doing good now."

Joel admires that. Some things are probably talent, he figures. "Practice's everything. 's why I feel bad for people whose thing was, like, artsy. Y'know?" He lists you and Frank as examples. "They ain't got means to do what they really love now."

That's when Bill shares that Frank paints. Piano and drawn, painted art — that was nice. Frank probably missed a lot of things.

If what you said was true and artists withered without their art like some plants did without sun or water, then he must be sad nowadays.

The new information sparks up a memory. The abandoned art supply on Canbose with 5th Street — was it possible there were some there?

Joel kept the doubts to himself so as to not spark any hopes of things he'd fail to deliver, but the real surprise is that he and Bill have their first conversation there.

It's a nice one.

Joel loathes that his brain comes up with the knowing looks both you and Tess would give him and Bill if either of you saw the way the two men can converse so easily once the guns are gone.

Bill's — he's okay.

Rough around the edges, sure, but in polished, sturdy ways.

He's also a little box of Pandora.

The last thing Joel could expect was being called aside by Bill before he leaves with Tess, only to find him hiding behind the door waiting for him with a furtive air in his stance, as if there could be any secrets that they'd keep from theirs.

Bill extends the copy of Frankenstein without meeting Joel's eyes. "Here." He all but shoves it into Joel's hands, and then nods. "It's the one you kept touching."

There's no reason to play bargain or pretend this is a gift he's too humble to accept.

He does as he's told, thanks Bill with a long nod, and walks out.

It does beat at his mind on the walk back to the QZ, though—had he rambled about you that much?

It seemed impossible—to be fair, he always managed to keep the conversation away from himself, but surely there were other things besides your name on his tongue. Besides how much you love your books and care for them. Besides how much he's learned since he met you because of them.

Either way, the book means you lost the bet.

Joel cares for very little since Outbreak day, but this—oh, this he took it to heart. You'd lost, and he intended on collecting his prize.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤTWO DAYS LATER

The smell of your apartment envelops him every time.

Everything's open.

You keep plants hung in several places on your wall, and they're all so tall and green. Big, imponent, and your habit of walking through the place and touching one of them, sometimes going as far as plucking a leaf or petal out of them—the air suddenly turned into myrrh, lavender, eucalyptus.

Joel wished he smelled nothing other than here.

"Heard you were feelin' better," Joel says as soon as he has eyes on you.

There's more color on your cheeks. When you smile, Joel sees it reach your eyes even if it remains small in your lips. "Still feel like shit, though."

Tongue sharp as ever, then.

He chuckles and walks in as you move aside in invitation, gaze checking through the apartment as he takes off his shoes.

Joel always pays attention to everything that surrounds you.

While you ask about the trades you missed, he takes note of the spotless state of everything around him. Stainless windows, shiny floor, a sharp citrus scent lingering even around you.

Stress cleaning — check.

"Did you finish the food I gave ya?"

"Of course," you answer. Joel's happy to hear that — you ate very little on the first day you got sick, and he gave you some of his food to make sure you ate.

The two of you take a sit in the kitchen, and as you talk about work, he analyzes you better.

You had your most comfortable clothes on. They came from a box he found not long ago that was your size exactly; the shirt has wet stains on your chest, and your wet hair tells him you felt good enough today for the first time in a while.

Good enough to gather the patience to wash your hair in the sink.

"Don't mind Inoctus, you know he says that shit about the Fireflies all the time. I ain't gonna argue with him again," Joel waves a hand, and then gets to the part he wanted to talk about. "Never mind him, though — did Tess tell you about what Bill and Frank found for us? What Frank fixed?"

"No, not yet."

Excellent. "We've got some good news. Oh — and before I forget. D'you think that art supply on Canbose still has some supplies left?"

"The one that intersects with the 5th?"

"Yeah."

"I don't know. I don't see why it wouldn't have," you shrug your shoulders. "It's close enough to the QZ for it not be completely raided and I don't see who would prioritize stealing art supplies in the middle of everything." It made sense to Joel, and he felt a rare sense of giddiness tingling. "Why?"

He leans back on the chair. "Frank's a painter."

"No way."

Joel grins — you understood him. "Yes, way."

"Fucking hell. Is there anything he doesn't do?"

He laughs. "I know. I felt the same way."

"He plays the piano, he should be obliged by law to stick to that cool thing."

Joel likes it when you're feeling a little petty — the scrunch on your nose is adorable. He wants to pinch it between his fingers, even if he never did. "Anyway..." He shares the other updates about the trip to their house without you, then talks about the people who contacted him — the ones that gave him any trouble are your expertise, and Joel loves the set on your brows when you're listening.

He has no idea how someone who looks so precious can have such a wicked mind.

"She looks so — I don't know. Not this ingenious. Mean. How the fuck does someone who's always hummin' songs under her breath can intimate grown-ass man?"

"You're the only fucker who thinks she looks like an angel, Joel."

"Nah, we both know that's a lie."

"No, you're just delusional. If anyone thinks she looks angelic you better bet they're comparing her to Lucifer."

Was he? Delusional.

Tess always made him feel like he was faced with a Truth Mirror whenever he opened his big mouth around her.

After a couple of hours, you've already cooked some things — with the little help he could offer — for the both of you, taken notes of the people you need to talk to.

Joel realizes that time passes only when you.

Outside of your presence, it's all a snowball. Stale.

"Ah, shit." You get up in a rush.

"What?"

"Almost lost the time for my pills again," you mutter under your breath.

"You really need a watch." From where he sits at your kitchen table he can see your profile — the roll of your eyes. He huffs in disbelief, ignoring the feeling of his mouth tugging in the corners.

After you take your med, you sit on the couch and find his gaze from across the room. "Clean the table for me?"

Joel never says no to you.

Not for lack of want — fucking god must know how many times he's craved saying it, enunciating each letter with gusto. No.

It never came out.

He cleans the table thinking about how much he's delaying it.

The book's inside his duffel bag that remained next to your door all this time, but it weighs on his back somehow.

He did more than just clean the table as he tried pushing down the little mean jabs his mind took at itself.

You can't force her to stay outta business.

She ain't never listened to a soul in her life—who are you to tell her what to do?

Once every while, you would venture into Joel's personal space and place a finger where his brows pinched together. The first time it happened, the effect had been immediate—Joel was so shocked by the act that his whole face relaxed; not his body, though. His body froze, and he had stood there in a perfect portrayal of a statue.

You do that when he sits on the couch.

Your presence is so damn familiar to him that even lost in his own mind, he finds his way through the maze. He sits by your side, leans back, and drops his head on the couch.

When he feels your finger touching his frown, Joel opens his eyes.

"What's bothering you?" Your finger leaves, and he misses it.

Joel turns his head to the side. "Nothin'." He likes the way the color's back to your cheeks. A week on anti-inflammatory meds made you a little gray, and nothing about you was dull.

"You're a shit liar," you say.

He scoffs. "No, I'm not."

"You really are, though," you argue, fighting a smile. "And just so you know, your accent gets thicker the harder you try."

At that, he frowns. "No, it doesn't—" and fuck, he hears it. How the fuck did you notice that? His frown deepens, and you chuckle at him. "You pay attention to the strangest fuckin' things." It's said in the same gruff way he says most things, but there's enough admiration underneath it that you hear it for what it is.

"And thank god for that — it's what's kept me alive. Us alive," you snort, giving yourself the credit you're due for once.

In the end, he blurts it out. "I found it."

"Found what?" you ask, truly confused at the abrupt change.

"Something you told me I couldn't."

"That's... oddly vague," you reply. "I name a lot of things you can't find. You seem to think you have superpowers."

"No powers. Just talent." He shrugs, and gets up to retrieve the book. "What's the one thing you told me there was 'no fucking way' I could find?"

The second it takes for your brain to connect the dots is the time Joel needs to find the copy in his bag.

Joel sees your eyes dropping to it when he turns around. Widening. Freezing that way. Your lips parting only a couple of inches as your jaw slowly drops.

He sits with more satisfaction on your couch than he's sat anywhere in a long time.

The book falls with a soft thud between your bodies.

All the space he puts between you two is replaced by it —

Mary Shelley, Frankenstein.

"You know what this means, don't you?" he asks.

When you look up, Joel's caught off guard.

The moisture in your eyes shines under the light coming from your kitchen. Joel's throat becomes restricted by an invisible force, and his eyes sting in response to the sight.

"What the fuck, Joel?" your hands pick up the book with a reverence that makes his skin tingle. "Where... how —" both times you start, then stop. "My god." He just watches. You turn the book around, eyeing every millimeter. "This is real," you mutter. He's aware you're not even talking to him at this point. "Have you—" you look up at him, and he feels special enough, "have you opened it? Are the pages—it's whole?"

The way you breathe out the word.

A reverence. So sacred.

Joel might as well consider the bet paid if he wasn't so far gone on what he wants.

Kind of.

"It's whole," he confirms.

Joel almost opens up his mouth to make a teasing remark. Ask if you'd like to be left alone with it, maybe. Instead, he lets you examine it to your heart's will, which takes a while.

He's always comfortable in the silence with you.

That's when he started realizing the trouble he was in.

When he came over just to sit at the same table as you. Have dinner in silence while you cleaned your guns. Sometimes, he'd imagine a bottle of scotch would make the two of you end up in whispered conversations under the dim, yellowish lights of your place, but it never happened.

Joel's too much of a coward to let his guard down with you.

He wouldn't be able to do what he did with the others — a sweet release in the dark; an impersonal match of bodies, mingled in sweat and joined in more ways than it should seem possible, but never looking each other in the eye.

You looked him straight into his soul when you spoke to him. Every time.

"This means... you won the bet," you say.

Joel blinks out of his thoughts. "Sure does."

"So." You put the book down gently on your lap, then gaze at him, eyes piercing into his. "What d'you want?"

Tough question. Joel felt the tingle that never left his skin covering him from head to toe. His throat constricts around the words — his body starts to heat up. He shakes his head, and is overwhelmed by how the air seems to charge between you both. He licks his lips, and says.

Like a coward, his eyes fall on Frankenstein before he speaks.

"Can't have what I want." The naked truth. What's the point of lying to you, anyway? You're a shit liar. "So I'll ask for a close second," he adds quickly. Something magnetic pulls at him, and he looks up — a mistake. Fucking mistake—you never looked at him this way. Is that red on your cheeks? "I — uh; I want a voucher. A veto power."

You blink, utterly confused. "What?"

"A veto power over you." It's the closest he could think of on his way here. Some kind of power, since Joel has no right to demand anything from you. "On a decision. I—If you said you're comin' on a mission, for example. I could say 'no. Veto.' and that'd be it. No arguments. I want a veto card over you. Just one."

You stare at him for a few seconds, and Joel can almost see the engines in your brain turning.

Joel sometimes feels you're more than just yourself. The eyes on your head see far beyond what's in front of them, and he feels naked quite often when in front of you.

"Just tell me what you want," you say.

Can't have what I want, he told you. He shakes his head. "Doesn't matter."

"How would you know?"

"I just do," he argues.

"Maybe you're wrong."

"I'm not!" The storm swirls and lifts him from the couch. Joel turns his back to you, overcome by the reality of it all. "I know I'm not. There isn't—what I want is impossible. There's no such thing anymore. It ain't like the books, or finding fucking chocolate or—it ain't. I wanted you safe. How fuckin' stupid is that—" he chokes on air, gasping around the words. "There's no safe anymore." Softer, and lower, it comes out again. "There's no safe."

Most of the time, Joel's control is kept on a tight leash. His hands have a vicious grip around it because if he loosens it, it'll run off.

His hands are shaking now. He should turn back to face you, to see if he's just said too much or fucked it up somehow, but—you get up. He hears the squeaking of the couch and your steps approaching.

Then, as slowly as you approached him when you first met, he feels it:

Your hands slide around his middle. Your palms spread across his back and contour his waist, and you're hugging him—you hug him from behind, and Joel's chest expands with the air that your presence brings.

"Joel." You hug tighter. He can feel your upper body pressed against his back, and his hands come up to rest on top of yours, shaking as they are. He wants to speak up, but you beat him to it. "I thought I was going crazy, Joel."

Crazy? He is going crazy. You're wrapped around him and the world is yet to implode; Joel feels a knot in his throat that wasn't there before. "Why?"

It hits him — the answer.

Before you're able to say it hits him in the chest, because your hands grip him by the ribcages but not with force; all your fingers need to do is apply gentle pressure on him and Joel feels that you want him to move, so he lets you.

You spin him inside your hold, and Joel goes willingly.

When he's turned and facing you, the answer is there, all over your face.

Your hands stay on his back, but your eyes are searching on every inch of his face for any sign, for anything to deter you from what you want to do.

Joel sees it. He is delusional.

"I want the impossible too," you say. It comes out in a soft whisper, and Joel mentally curses all the moments of silence between you two where he felt the air as palpable as you inside his arms right now. When you looked at him, almost through him, and he turned a blind eye to it in fear that it was exactly what he wanted and craved for. "Is it — too much?"

He's incapable of answering.

His hands come up to your face, and he fits his palm on the set of your jar, where his thumb can touch your cheeks.

You melt to the touch, eyes closing along the way.

All those times you two shared a laugh and a look, and the silence hung in the air as your eyes were unable to leave each other — this. It could've been this.

"Tell me to stop and I will," is all he can say before he dives.

Joel meets you underwater.

The same way you're drowning in his hands with all of your weight supported on his body, Joel submerges as his mouth meets your kiss.

It's a waiting game — you were waiting for the moment he'd realize, he thinks.

Joel may be out of touch with reality itself, but some things can pierce through different dimensions.

Raw things never fail to elicit the strongest form of feeling and your desire pulls him under—real, demanding.

Although he remembers being a vocal partner in bed, he has no words or taunting remarks for you—he'd rather kiss.

Your mouth parts so eagerly for him that Joel wants to shut up.

He has you shutting up, moaning in his mouth as his tongue slides on yours. His fingers grip tighter on your hair. Your arms cling to him, then both of them let go to wrap around his shoulders instead, and Joel feels the despair as you climb up higher, as you press your body harder against him.

He understands it. Empathizes, even — he's feeling it on him the same way.

Your desperate, wet kisses rekindle connections long lost in his brain.

Joel remembers the desperate and insane horniness of youth when hormones mix with inexperience and everything feels new and like a raw, open nerve.

This tastes like those moments.

It'd been so long since Joel was touched and your hands start a mapping of his body that start to get him drunk.

It hits him that it's you. He's kissing you, and you're kissing back with so much force that he has no air, there's no air in his lungs—

He pulls back, gasping, and feels your nails digging into his scalp. The moan scratches the back of his throat and Joel only notices his eyes are still closed when your forehead touches his and your breath starts mingling with his.

Opening his eyes is a blessing. And a curse, most likely.

Seeing your mouth swollen and puffy makes him greedy.

Then — "Are you stopping?" you ask. Hoarse voice. Breathless. "I didn't tell you to stop," you add, whining.

Joel picks you up in one motion, and the laughter that bubbles out of your chest reminds him that you're light — you're the ghost that pops up in his dreams shining with the pink hue of sundown and you're the hope of his mornings, the scent of coffee and pages and herbs that make him feel like this earth could still have a sense of home even if he denies that fact, gritting his teeth at the fact the world still goes on.

He pins you against the nearest wall. One without a shelf, or furniture.

With you pressed against the wall, he has better support. He can trace your thighs with his palm, can get his hands underneath your cotton shorts, your blouse.

"Are you trying to kill me?" you ask him. Your head hits the wall behind you, and Joel looks up to see you watching him as he maps you. You visibly swallow when your gazes meet, and Joel wants to say so fucking much, but nothing comes out at first.

All he wants is to make the pink on your lips become permanent.

He wants to rip every item of clothing on you with his hands, and wants to —

"Joel," you lean forward, capturing his lips in a kiss and stealing all the images he had of you pinned on your own wooden floor, cheeks pressed against it as he took you from behind.

When your tongue meets his, Joel feels something snapping.

He growls into the kiss, both of his hands groping your asscheeks as he desperately grinds his hips against your body.

This kiss is even better than the first, even if it kills all of his oxygen faster.

Joel never kissed like this. Not this messy, this wet and sloppy mess of need, and dry humping, and swallowing your moans only to have them be echoed back to you when you grind your hips down in the perfect way—

When he pulls back for air this time, Joel grips your head by the hair, making a fistful at your nape.

"This is not just now, is it?" he asks. His own voice sounds like sandpaper and pure lust, and he's not even beginning.

"No, no," you shake your head. "I need you, Joel."

"Fuckin' hell," he has more to say, but now he needs you naked. "'m gonna take off your clothes. Then I'm gonna eat your pussy 'cause I've thought about it too many fuckin' times." Your jaw falls open at him, and Joel smiles despite himself. "Yeah. You gonna let me, baby? Hm?"

Your only answer is to nod desperately, grinding against him as your eyes close.

Joel's in heaven. "Did I win what I want?" he asks.

"What?"

"My veto," he pulls you away from the wall and starts carrying you to your bedroom. "I still want it. Can't have the impossible but I can have a veto."

You laugh as he kicks your door open. "You want a fucking veto? Joel, all you have to do is hold me by the chin and say 'no' or 'yes' and I'd do it. It's that simple. Always have been. " You grab his face between your hands and pierce him with those All Seeing Eyes. "I'll give you your veto, if that's what you want." You kiss his lips, sighing softly. "'m sorry I can't promise you I'll be safe, but I can promise I'll try."

Joel knows he's about to do something that can't be taken back when he lies you down.

He nods just so you know he understood, but the knot's formed again and if he speaks, Joel will cry — the words wouldn't come out anyway, even if he wants to say them.

Joel's unsure if they haven't been burned out of his tongue.

He takes off your clothes one by one. Ironic for someone who wanted them ripped to pieces not a minute ago, but to have you laid in front of him soothes the desperation somehow.

His plans get interrupted, though, because once you're naked and all of his brain is mushed into nothing but skin skin you you touch touch touch, you stop him from kneeling down at the edge of the bed with a touch and one request, "You too?" your gaze is so open and vulnerable that his hands go to his shirt. "No — lemme. Please."

Joel does, and you do the same to him, taking his clothes off one by one.

When you drop to his knees in front of him, Joel is powerless.

He's too stunned to say or do anything but look.

Even his hands that itch to touch only manage to do so when they're flying for some support so his knees don't buckle and he falls — you grab his cock by the base with one hand, look up until his eyes are locked on yours, and then licks a wet stripe from his balls to the tip.

Then you do it again, and again, until Joel's coated in saliva, and you can suck around the tip, swallowing him down in one go.

He grips your hair for life support, cursing under his breath.

Joel's vocal about how much you're fucking killing him.

You go at it slowly, which is even more torture, but he gets it. He remembers you talking about not being with a person for the longest time. How it made no difference for you to have the physical or not because the attraction wasn't there unless there something underneath it — for someone who's out of practice, you must have the knowledge.

Your tongue runs on the sensitive skin between the dick and his balls, your mouth suctions when it's taking him down and when you start bobbing your head, using your hand to cover the parts your mouth can't reach, Joel has to physically pull you back.

"Stop, stop —" his hand on your hair pulls you back, and Joel curses again when you whine at having to let go. "'m gonna fuck you, baby, it's okay, 's okay," he gets you up by the neck, and is kissing you right after.

That's how he falls in bed with you — with his cock leaking pre-cum, his back already coated in sweat and your mouth tasting like him.

Joel eases the fall with his hand, not wanting to crush you with his weight. He wants to eat you out — Joel wants to bury his face in you, but when he makes a move to go down, your legs clamp around his waist and your head starts shaking.

You pull back from his kiss, "No — later, you can do that later, just — please," you guide your hand between your bodies to hold him and guide his cock to your entrance. "Waited too long, Joel."

I need you, Joel.

"Wait, wait — " it'll be over too fast if he sees you all the time. Joel has an idea. "A position that's better for you first. I wanna see you too, but I want you to feel good. Turn around for me."

"You want me on all fours?"

"No," he shakes his head. "Just turn around."

You obey him, and Joel grabs one of your pillows to push under your waist. You rest your cheek on the one under your head, and he positions himself first before crowding your space with his head on the crook of your neck.

He dips his fingers in first, spreading your wetness all over you before lining up.

It's sinful how good the position is.

He fills you up, bottoming all the way out. Joel's thick, but not too long, and he knows this angle is as good for you as it is for him. "Feels good?" he asks in your ear.

Your only response is his name.

"Is that a yes?" he pulls all the way out, and slams it back in, wanting to feel the drag. Wanting to feel your walls clamping around him. How you open up to accommodate all of him. "'Cause you feel like — fuckin' heaven, baby — louder, say it louder —"

"Feels amazing, Joel," you cry.

He knows it does. Joel hasn't felt anything remotely close to pleasure in a long time, so this might be too much, he might be in danger of growing an addiction, but he's past caring.

He drags it out.

Joel wanted to fuck you senseless a while ago, but now all he wants is to stay buried in the tight and warm haven of your cunt until you're both too spent to move a muscle. "'m gonna stay — all fuckin' night — inside you, baby — hm, whaddaya think?"

"Yes, please—"

"God, I love — that's all you can say to me."

"Don't stop," you cry out louder.

"I won't." He couldn't.

He doesn't want to. He doesn't.

Joel thrusts into you slow, measured and deep, until the heat in his groin is climbing like your nails digging at his sides. He loses count of how many times he sucks on your shoulders, how many bite marks you must have on your neck, of how many single-worded compliments he spills in your ears as he fucks the words out of you.

When you beg to cum, Joel flips you over and hoists your leg higher so he can go in deeper, and he fucks you the way you've been begging him to — crying around his fingers for harder, and faster, Joel, please, please, I'm not gonna break —

He gives it to you like both of you have been dying to receive, and when your legs start shaking around him and his name drops from your lips in a scream, Joel pulls out, coating your stomach in the hot strings of his cum.

He doesn't collapse on top of you, which is a miracle.

He does lay strategically next to you in order to avoid his own mess until he's able to feel his legs again.

Your fingers thread his hair during that time.

The spasms of your legs make him smile, and the little hums that leave you without you even realizing make Joel float on his bliss.

When he comes back to himself, he gets up to get a warm towel. He cleans you both, just enough so sleeping is okay. He pulls up the duvet and puts you underneath it before climbing under as well.

When he lays, Joel expects you to turn around;

Instead, you wrap around him in octopus style, and whisper, "Turn around."

He obeys, and is rewarded by you spooning him.

Joel thinks he might be dreaming.

"Are you gonna be here tomorrow?" you ask after a while.

Your bodies are as tangled as they can be. Your hands caress the hairs on his chest and your breath is on his neck, and still, you are stared he'll leave.

"D'you want scrambled eggs or you prefer the toast?" he replies.

There's a kiss on his neck. Another on his shoulder. He grabs one of your hand to pull it to his lips, and kisses it.

"Scrambled."

"'kay. Where d'you keep your sugar? I can never find it."

"I'll show you tomorrow," you kiss his shoulder, and squeeze his body. "Joel?"

"Yeah, baby?"

He can feel your smile because your lips are on his skin. He's gonna use that more, he thinks. "I might wake up rubbing myself all over you," you whisper.

He laughs. "Fine by me."

🏷️ @sakuralikestars — @mostardentily — @thegreat-annamaria — @leiticia — @polyglot-noodle — @casssiopeia — @earthtocharlene — @levylovegood — @lavenderhhze — @gracie7209 — @waywardwolfbonklight — @shadytalething — @sanzusmile —@yesimwriting — @celestialstar111 💖

⚠️ if anyone being tagged would like to not be, just let me know in my inbox (which you can also use to talk to me about all the appeals of Joel Miller with his hair slicked back, you know... or what you thought of this one.. just saying... <3

[lol-im-done]

Ghost of His Past

summary: joel hadn't seen you since the night the world had gone to shit, now here you were 20 years later in the Boston QZ, bursting into his life like a ray of sunlight after the darkest storm. read on ao3

pairing: joel miller x fem!reader

word count: 2.2k

author's note/tags: wrote this purely based off me watching the show, apologies for any inconsistencies with the game. I love Pedro as Joel! would love to write more so any suggestions/feedback would be appreciated.

no major warnings, all the feels, flashbacks to pre!outbreak joel, references to drugs, some dark themes, age gap.

Boston QZ, 2023

“Joel?”

A soft voice floated through the air but Joel ignored it, thinking it a figment of his imagination, a stray memory coming back to torment him. The now familiar voice called out to him again and he paused in the middle of the sidewalk, heart beginning to pound involuntarily. Next to him Tess’ eyebrows scrunched in confusion at his reaction, twisting around to try and find the source. There was only one person who it could be and he wouldn’t believe it, couldn’t believe it until he saw it with his own eyes. Forcing himself to take a deep breath, he turned slowly to face the ghost of his past. His usual stoicness crumbled the moment he saw you. There you stood a bit uneasy in your new environment but you offered him a timid smile. The air left his lungs as if someone had kicked him in the ribs and he was transported back to Austin. 

September 26th, 2003

The last time he had seen you was the night the whole world had gone to shit. As the twisted body of Nana Adler half crawled, half ran at him, fear had Joel frozen in place unsure of what to do as Tommy shouted behind him. Before he could raise his makeshift weapon a gunshot rang through the air and Nana’s body hit the ground with a thud, blood and brains splattered against the grass of the pristine lawn. Joel, Tommy and Sarah turned to look at their savior, you, still clad in your nursing scrubs. Had it been under different circumstances Joel would have been impressed by your aim, he didn’t even know you could shoot a gun. 

You were a twenty-three year old with a dazzling smile that matched the ring on your wedding finger. Newly engaged, you and your fiance Luke had moved into the neighborhood only a year ago becoming fast friends of the Millers. Sarah had quickly latched onto you and you had taken her under your wing with enthusiasm. Joel had been amazed at the way you dotted on her, supported her and been there for her in the short time you had known them. Luke had come to admire Joel, taking lessons on how to fix up the house and learning the art of grilling on the weekends. You had developed a friendship with Joel based on your mutual love of music and surprisingly puzzles. Now you looked fractured, the last few hours completely shattering your reality and completely changing you forever. He could tell by your expression, the blood splattered against your face and Luke’s gun in your trembling hand that you had been forced to do the unthinkable in your home. Before he could offer you help the two remaining members of the Adler family came charging out of the home and in rapid succession you had sent more bullets flying, making them howl in pain. 

“Go!” you screamed at them, Tommy wasting no time in jumping into the driver’s seat but Sarah tried desperately to reach for you. 

“We can’t leave her dad!” Sarah had screeched in a panic as Joel pushed her into the truck. 

“It’ll be alright Sarah, I’ll be fine,” you choked out, trying to reassure the young girl but the panic in your voice did little to calm her. Joel paused at the truck door, jaw tense and knuckles tight as he gripped the wrench. He was overwhelmed, so conflicted in that moment, not wanting to leave you but he didn’t know what this was. He didn’t know who could end up sick. You wanted to tell him that he didn’t have to explain himself, that you understood he had to focus on his family and their safety first. Your lip wobbled as you sucked in a deep breath, motioning for him to get in the truck. 

“Go and don’t look back.” 

A lump formed in his throat at your words and against his better judgment he surged forward and placed a hand against your cheek. Tears continued to stream down your face as you gave him a weak smile of thanks. 

“Joel, we gotta go!” Tommy shouted as another neighbor crawled from their front door a few houses down. Before he knew it they were speeding down their street leaving their home behind, the sound of gunshots echoing through the cul de sac once more. Joel risked a look in the rear view mirror and the sight of you on your knees, gun cradled to your chest sent a chill down his spine. The ear splitting scream of sorrow that followed would haunt him for years to come. 

Present Day

Even now the radiance of your smile almost blinds him, the setting sun casting a golden glow against your skin. Joel wasn’t sure what overcame him at that moment, he was suddenly flooded with emotions he had spent the last two decades trying to suppress. An invisible force seemed to pull you both together as you ran towards each other. The moment his arms wrapped around you, practically crushing you, a sob broke past your lips as you squeezed him back with equal fervor to make sure he was real. When you had seen him walking down the street you hadn’t quite believed it was him but his striking features assured you it was Joel Miller. 

“It’s so good to see you,” you laughed tearfully. 

“I can’t believe you’re alive- that you’re here,” Joel murmured into your hair. 

“Who’s this?” 

Tess’ voice seemed to snap Joel out of it and he slowly  untangled himself from you but still kept himself close to your side as if you were at risk of disappearing. 

“This is (Y/N), we were neighbors back in Texas. A friend of the family,” Joel explained and you nodded in agreement. A short silence followed as your adrenaline waned, questions flooding your mind and it was clear that a more serious conversation would follow. 

“I’ll see you later Joel,” Tess murmured, still looking confused as if she had never seen this side of him before. Joel gave her a brief nod in reply before turning to you, his deep brown eyes trailing over your face. 

“C’mon, we got a lot to catch up on.”

Following him to his apartment which you realized was across the building you had been assigned to, he led you into his space mumbling an apology about the mess. As he poured you a cup of water your eyes roamed the room, heart lurching at the butterfly on the window. It matched the one in his kitchen back home. Home. There was no more home for either of you and you shook your head to rid yourself of the thought. 

“Joel?”

He turned to look at you and his stomach twisted uncomfortably, he knew that look and what would come next.  

“Sarah...she’s not here is she?”

“She’s not.”

At his words you sank into one of the chairs, hand pressed to your heart as it seemed to crumble beneath your skin. “You don't have to say anything more about her Joel, just know that I loved her very much,” you finally managed to say. When you looked up at him, you had to stop yourself from reaching out to comfort him, he looked so lost. 

“I won’t pretend I know how to start this off. It's not everyday you find someone from before,” Joel sat in the chair next to you. 

“I think it would be only right for me to say that I’m glad you’re alive,” you replied. That seemed to make the corners of his lips slightly curve upwards and you had a feeling he didn’t smile much these days. 

“How did you make it all this way darling?”

The term of endearment had a fiery blush dusting your cheeks which made something flutter in Joel’s chest. He had never called you that before which was expected as you were once engaged. Now though, you took a moment to appreciate his handsome ruggedness before returning to his question.

“I continued my work as a nurse, traveled through the South trying to help who I could. The Army and then FEDRA snatched up most of the doctors and nurses for themselves which didn’t leave much for the survivors. Eventually FEDRA found me in Georgia and I managed to strike a sort of deal. Some freedom of movement and to treat civilians as long as I committed to some time in the QZs,” you explained, glossing over the more traumatic details. Perhaps stories for another time. Joel could tell by your expression and the faded scar on your jaw that you had been through tough times, you being here now only spoke to the bravery you had shown that night you had saved them. Slowly you opened up to one another, treading lightly with the topics of your discussion before you glanced at the clock on the wall. 

“I think I’ve overstayed my welcome,” you smiled nervously, moving to stand and Joel tried not to let his disappointment show. 

“I know things are different now,” you cringed a bit at the understatement. “But if you ever want to hang out you know or just reminisce about Austin...,” you offered. It was your use of the word reminisce, as if he would find it enjoyable to think about everything he had lost. A dark shadow crossed Joel’s face making him frown, the lines around his eyes deepening. 

“Why the hell would I want to reminisce?” he all but growled. Usually his foul moods and brooding stare would scare off anyone in a ten mile radius but he was surprised to not even see you flinch. You had faced much worse in this life than the simple anger of men. His sudden mood change was unsurprising to you, you had once been the same way, poisoned by grief unable to even think about the past without being reduced to a puddle of overwhelming sadness. With a sigh, you scooted closer to Joel. 

“For a long time I forced myself to not think about that day, and all the days that came afterward. It was even too painful to think about life before Outbreak Day. But in doing that I started forgetting about them, all of the people I cared for. Their loss stained my memories, I started forgetting how they looked, the sound of their voices,” your voice cracked. “It hurts, revisiting the past. I spent so many nights wide awake thinking of simply what could have been. Then I forced myself to face it, said each of their names just to make myself remember. It was like being doused in a bucket of ice water,” you continued and Joel was stunned at your honesty. It had been so long since someone had voiced their emotions so sincerely. “The more I allowed myself to revisit them in my memory, the less I would see Luke’s face as I shot him when I closed my eyes. The less I would imagine all the scenarios in which my family and friends had died,” your continued and Joel found himself offering you his hand which you took gratefully. “I started seeing the big picture again, not the fraction of tragedy. Twenty years is a long time but at least I won’t spend the next twenty as haunted as I was. For some reason we’re still here and they’re not. But that doesn’t mean their memory has to be gone too,” you murmured. 

“Most people that meet me think I’m naive, a hopeless optimist of some kind but I know that every day, every hour is not promised to us. If the universe continues to keep me alive I’m going to try my best to make it worth it,” you finished, giving his hand a squeeze. Joel was at a loss for words, still processing what you had shared with him. After a few moments he managed to find his voice.  

“It's past curfew and I’m not sure if your status as medic will grant you any favors, it's best if you stay here tonight,” Joel offered, standing up and motioning to his bed. 

“Oh you don’t have to- what about the woman you were with? I thought she was-,” you stammered slightly. 

“Tess is my smuggling partner, she comes by some nights but she doesn’t live here,” he corrected you. “We’re not together like that...not anymore.”

“Alright, I don’t mind taking the sofa-,”

“Not a chance darling,” Joel crossed his strong arms. 

“There’s that southern charm I’ve missed,” you teased, squeezing his bicep before tucking yourself into his bed. Surrounded by his scent and the surprisingly warm blanket you quickly succumbed to sleep. Joel found himself watching you sleep soundly, entranced by the way the moonlight cascaded over your face. On instinct he reached for the bag of pills in his pocket. Something stopped him, his hand straying away from the pills as your words replayed in his head. Then I forced myself to face it, said each of their names just to make myself remember. He felt silly but he began to sound out the name he hadn’t uttered in years.

“Sa- Sarah,” he whispered. A weight seemed to unload from his chest and he felt lighter somehow. That night he didn't dream of death, he was in a world of his own creation and like a ray of sunshine in the middle of it all was you.

[lol-im-done]

*fist bump* ✨️

From the extras on the HOTD DVD season 1 (I filmed it from my TV lmao 😭)

All rights to HBO

[lol-im-done]

Aemond vs Daemon

[lol-im-done]

Sneak peek of the Aemond one shot I’m writing. Reader is older sister of Lucerys and betrothed to Aemond. When she learns of his murder she vowes vengeance and justice for her brother.

Aemond watched as your face hardened and with a grim look you slid your helm over your face before tightening your grip on the reins.

“Tonight I will bring you to your knees, Aemond Targaryen. With blood and fire!”

Tempest’s sudden and ferocious roar melded with your warrior cry making him jump in place. He knew he had no choice, you would not kill him without a fair fight, something he had not given to Lucerys. He owed it to you in a sense to fight back. His emotions were a whirlwind but he managed to climb back up onto Vhagar who reared back to take flight. He never thought he would be here in this moment, battling his betrothed but the gods were cruel. He anticipated one of you would not make it out alive.

[lol-im-done]

would anyone be interested in ready a super angsty sad Harwin Strong one shot? Reader is Rhaenyra’s younger sister and married Harwin even though he continues his relationship with Rhaenyra? I know Harwin is super honorable but I can’t help but write for the unrequited love trope 🫣.

[lol-im-done]

Love in the Kingswood | Harwin Strong X Reader

Pairing: Ser Harwin Strong X Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2489

Synopsis: Princess Rhaenyra's Lady in Waiting, Lady (Y/N) Vaelor, slays a boar to protect her cousin, upon her return to the royal camp she realizes she's caught the attention of Ser Harwin Strong, and as they go on their own hunt they fall in love.

Author's Note: Feedback and comments are always appreciated! Also any ideas for other one shots so I can be inspired to write more :). Can be found on A03 as well.

Never had you been so happy to see a forest as you were when you arrived at the Kingswood. After hours of awkward small talk, glares from Alicent and the uncomfortable bumpy carriage ride you were more than ready to disembark. As Lady in Waiting to Princess Rhaenyra you were a constant companion at her side and as a distant cousin you were welcomed into the inner circle of the Royal Family. King Viserys had recognized Rhaenyra’s increasing isolation after Queen Aemma’s death so he reached out to your father Lord Vaelor who quickly dispatched you to King’s Landing. It was daunting at first but you became fast friends with Rhaenyra, a comforting and supporting presence for her. As the royal carriage slowed you could hear the cheers for the babe Aegon outside, Rhaenyra already withdrawing into herself. 

“Are you ready?” you asked softly, grasping her hand and giving it a reassuring squeeze. After a few seconds she gave you a brave smile and nod before stepping off with you at her side. 

The encampment was enormous with various tents and booths for Aegon’s name day celebration. Soon you found yourself in the main royal tent and after a quick conversation with King Viserys who doted on you as if his own daughter, you went on your rounds but kept a watchful eye on Rhaenyra. The King never explicitly stated you were to mind her but it became evident you were also responsible for keeping her in line, as spirited as she was. As you exchanged words with Larys Strong, you could see Rhaenyra speaking with her father, both voices increasing in tandem with their agitation. As their argument came to a crest, gathering the attention of the court, Rhaenyra stormed off. 

“Pardon me, Larys I must go!”

Larys, understanding your role, nodded and stepped aside as you tried your best not to run in the tent, trying to make it through the maze of people. Once you were at the exit you broke into a sprint at the same time someone was walking in. 

“Excuse me, I’m so sorry!” you apologized, not even recognizing the tall man you had bumped into. Ser Harwin Strong had seen you at court, a quiet shadow to the fiery Princess Rhaenyra, and had only formally met you when King Viserys had introduced you to the court. Watching you run after her he couldn’t help a small smile, he found your panicked state quite adorable. As he watched you go after Rhaenyra, his brother inched closer to him. 

“Lady Vaelor is most kind, I’m sure she did not mean to leave in such a haste,” Larys noted. 

“Do you spend time with her often?” Harwin turned to his brother. “We sometimes cross paths in the library and will have tea with others from court in the Godswood,” Larys replied. 

“Do I sense romance?” Harwin teased but Larys rolled his eyes. “No. But from the way you constantly ask after her and the way you stared at her bottom as she walked past I’d say you had that notion in your own head,” Larys replied coolly. Harwin let out a bark of laughter, slapping his brother on the arm before continuing into the tent, the feeling of your body pressing against his, still on his mind. 

“Rhaenyra wait!” you cried, lifting the bottom of your skirt as you tried to keep up with her long strides but she was soon galloping off into the forest. 

“Ser Criston-,” you called out and you didn’t need to finish as he helped you up on your horse before mourning his own. Without wasting another minute your steeds were off, racing to follow Rhaenyra. You loved your cousin dearly, would defend her to the very end but sometimes you swore she was trying to give you gray hairs. Thankfully you were a skilled rider and even in your dress you quickly caught up with her. Criston grabbed the reins of her horse and she scowled as she was stopped. 

“Gods above Rhaenyra give me warning next time you decide to run off,” you shook your head, patting the neck of your horse to calm it down. 

“I just couldn’t stand it one more minute! I don’t want to marry,” she pouted, silver strands whirling around her face. Criston looked over to you and you both exchanged a serious look, shaking your head in disappointment but the air of seriousness broke as Rhaenyra smirked, making the forest come alive with your trio’s laughter. 

Rhaenyra insisted on walking back but you were nowhere close to the camp by the time the sun had set. Thankfully your horses had food and water and a light blanket strapped to them so you assisted Criston in making the fire as Rhaenyra set up for the night. 

“Do you think the realm would ever accept me as Queen?” Rhaenyra broke the calm silence as you all ate the bread and meat from your packs. 

“The lords bent the knee to you Princess,” Criston replied but she didn’t seem satisfied by that answer. 

“I think that you will be a great Queen. The realm never had a chance to be reigned by a Queen before. They may be uncomfortable at first but once you prove yourself to them they will love you as I do cousin,” you said making her grin. Before she could reply there was a rustle in the distance and the horses began to whine. Criston was up and peering into the darkness, sword at the ready for whatever it could be. From the corner of your eye you saw Rhaenyra bring out her glinting dagger and you cursed yourself for being unprepared. Suddenly you and Rhaenyra screamed as a large boar burst through the bushes and rammed into Criston sending him flying to the side. It barreled straight towards Rhaenyra, jumping on top of her as she let out another scream. The urge to defend and protect surged through you as you grabbed her dagger from the ground. With a cry you plunged it into the boar’s back with a sickening crunch. Blood sprayed everywhere, hot and sticky, and the squeals of the boar filled the air. Criston pulled Rhaenyra out from under the boar as you continued to stab it, not stopping until it went completely still. The dagger fell from your hands, and you looked down, eyes widening in realization. Blood poured down your face and neck and the light purple fabric of your dress turned maroon. 

“Fuck,” you hung your head. 

“Fuck indeed,” Rhaenyra whispered, as she held onto Criston tightly. 

“Cheers to Lady Vaelor, Slayer of Boars,” Criston breathed out before you fell over in exhaustion. 

The following morning your trio finally made it back to the royal camp, exhausted, dirty and in need of a bath. The only upside was your kill which was being dragged by Criston’s horse. It soon became clear to everyone who had killed the boar. Climbing off your horse you tried to keep your composure as dozens of eyes watched you. Thank the gods your mother was not here or she would have dragged you off by your ear. Judgment and shock were evident on everyone’s faces as you walked alongside Rhaenyra. She had some blood splattered on her boots but you were drenched. It must have been quite the sight, Lady (Y/N) Vaelor, Princess Rhaenyra’s Lady in Waiting covered in the blood of the boar she had slain. What caught you by surprise was that in the sea of judgmental gazes there was a man, smiling. He was grinning as he peeled the skin off a rabbit, eyes roaming over you in a way that sent a delightful shiver over your body. Then you quickly realized who it was- Ser Harwin Strong. Thankfully the blush that spread across your cheeks was hidden by the blood. You were acquaintances with his brother Larys but had never gotten the chance to spend time with the man they called Breakbones. There he was eyeing you with a mixture of awe and something else, a sort of hunger. Breaking away from his gaze you followed Rhaenyra to your personal tent for a long awaited bath. 

Later that evening you mustered the courage to come out of your tent and eat dinner. King Viserys had publicly thanked you for the boar, which was cooked for tonight. Not used to all of this attention you kept to the edge of the feast, picking at your meal. A shadow passed over you and when you looked up, your heart began to beat as fast as a hummingbirds. 

“Ser Harwin,” you curtsied, dress pooling around you, tongue grazing your teeth to make sure nothing was stuck in it. 

“At ease Lady Vealor,” he replied seriously as if you were a fellow member of the Night’s Watch, making you giggle. “That was horrible, I apologize,” Harwin chuckled nervously, rubbing the back of his neck. 

“No, it was quite funny. How can I help Ser Harwin, if you are looking for the Princess-,” you began but he stepped closer to you, close enough that you needed to look up as he towered over you. “No, I was looking for you,” he said. Another blush spread across your cheeks and you found yourself at a loss for words. The most handsome man in Westeros (in your opinion because Rhaenyra would argue Daemon) was looking for you?!

“What do you say to going out on a small hunt of our own?” he asked hopefully. “I was impressed by your killing of the boar and I’ve heard you enjoy archery-,” he continued to ramble, as if afraid to hear rejection from you. 

“I’d love to.”

Harwin paused, eyes widening with happiness and he suppressed the urge to sweep you up in his arms at the moment. Gathering his composure he stepped back, “Tomorrow morning then, I shall arrive at your tent at sunrise, My Lady,” Harwin bowed his head. 

“See you then Ser Harwin,” you curtsied before dashing off to find Rhaenyra. 

Morning couldn’t come soon enough and when Harwin announced himself outside your tent you were ready, flinging the curtain open. Harwin forgot what he was going to say as he looked down at you as he gulped. Gone was the usual purple dress, today you looked like a huntress. Hair braided away from your face, leather trousers, your house sigil of two spears embroidered on your vest. 

“Good morning Ser Harwin, Princess Rhaenyra is spending the day with the King so it looks like I’m all yours today,” you greeted him with a shy smile. 

“I’ll take any time I get with you Lady (Y/N),” Harwin smiled back before offering you his arm. 

Your conversation had started light as you walked through camp, the usual pleasantries especially with so many ears around but as you made your way deeper into the forest you found yourself opening up more. Harwin was a great listener, nodding along to your stories and quite eager to learn more about you as he asked about your home, your life. It wasn’t long before you began to see evidence of rabbits in the area, Harwin insisting you take the lead on the hunt. 

“Wouldn’t you prefer to be out there hunting down deer and wolves Ser Harwin, instead of hunting little rabbits with a Lady,” you teased as you crouched down. Harwin crouched down beside you, angling his body closer to yours. 

“There’s nowhere I’d rather be at this moment,” he whispered, his breath tickling your ear. Turning to look at him, you were entranced by the depth of his eyes and you resisted the urge to run your hand through his mess of curls, turning back to the task at hand. Harwin watched as you brought out your bow, silently parting the bushes to get a clearer look at your target. 

Notching the arrow your eyes narrowed in concentration, as you prepared your kill. Slowly your breaths evened out and with a final exhale your arrow went flying before hitting the rabbit straight through the eye. 

“Damn!” Harwin cheered, squeezing your shoulder. Other men would have chastised you for your skill, or felt their manhood threatened but not Harwin. Ser Harwin Strong was not like other men, and you could already feel the stir of love in your chest. 

After a few hours you had amassed quite a few rabbits and hares, Harwin carrying them in a bag as you walked beside him. With every step your bodies inched closer, shoulders grazing one another’s. After a few more minutes you approached a small creek bed that led to the camp and before you could look for a log to cross over, Harwin offered you his hand. Thinking he would guide you through the small stream you took it, “Thank you Ser-,” you began but let out a squeak as he wrapped his muscular arm around your waist and hoisted you up against his body. Instinctively you curled up against him, arms snaking around his neck as he walked you both through the water. He did not let you go however until you came closer to the camp, not at all tired. As he let you down you fought the urge to pout, not wanting to leave his comforting grasp. 

“I’ve had a wonderful time, truly,” you thanked him, looking up at Harwin. 

“Please just Harwin,” he said, hand reaching out to wipe dirt off your cheek gently. 

“Harwin,” you echoed. 

“Can I ask you something?” Harwin asked a bit nervously, and you nodded. “Why did you say yes to coming with me? I know my reputation-.”

“I said yes because you’re not like other men. You asked me to hunt with you, not to watch you hunt. Your brother Larys speaks nothing but good things about you. You’ve been nothing but kind to me Harwin,” you said sincerely. It was Harwin’s turn to blush and he looked around quickly to make sure no one was watching. Leaning forward his hand came to cup your neck and for a moment you thought he was aiming for your lips but instead his lips pressed against your forehead in a sweet kiss, so delicate for someone nicknamed Breakbones. 

“I will always be kind to you (Y/N), I will be by your side if you let me,” Harwin whispered as he stared longingly into your eyes. 

“I want nothing more,” you whispered back before surging upwards to kiss him, not caring who saw. Little did you know your journey with him would not end there but your relationship would blossom and endure through a civil war of fire and blood. Ballads would be sung of his strength in battle and of yours in diplomacy and eventually dragon riding, and in the end your children would carry on the legacy of both your houses with pride and glory. 

[lol-im-done]

Sneak peek of the little one shot I started writing 🫣 I can’t get Harwin Strong out of my mind…..

Climbing off your horse you tried to keep your composure as dozens of eyes watched you. Judgement, fear, shock was evident on everyone’s faces as you walked alongside Rhaenyra. She had some blood splattered on her boots but you were drenched. It must have been quite the sight, Lady (Y/N) Vaelor, Princess Rhaenyra’s Lady in Waiting and cousin in her dress now covered in the blood of the boar she had slain. What caught you by surprise was that in the sea of judgmental gazes there was a man, smiling. He was grinning as he peeled the skin off a rabbit, eyes roaming over you in a way that sent a delightful shiver over your body.

[lol-im-done]

Savior of Dreams | Dream X Reader

Pairing: Lord Morpheus X Immortal!Reader

Summary: Preparing to leave his post, Destruction envisions a being to bring balance to a chaotic world, to help humanity. From that vision comes you, now immortal and imbued with abilities. After decades without a mission you are tasked with saving the King of Dreams. It takes you down a path you never imagined and brings forth feelings Dream has not felt in hundreds of years.

Can be found on AO3 as well.

Part One here!

Part Two Summary: You face your mission head on and reveal your past to Dream.

Part Two:

Crack. Lifting your boot you winced at the shards of glass beneath your boot. For a moment you stared at tiny reflections of yourself wondering how you ended up here, in a realm you had never visited even in your own sleep. Every step you unwittingly tramped over the broken dreams of this realm. The Dreaming was not how you thought it would be, you had imagined a vast kingdom filled with color and vibrancy, as elaborate and wondrous as Destruction had told stories of. As the towering gates swung open they revealed a decaying wasteland, muted colors and crumbling structures. 

“What happened here?” 

Dream’s garvely tone was now replaced by an all consuming grief that made your heart clench. Silently you followed behind Dream and Lucienne, who had been taking care of what was left of The Dreaming in its king's absence. Under the circumstances of your first meeting you didn’t have a good opportunity to study the King of Dreams but as you walked behind him you could catch glimpses of his sharp jaw, cheekbones that seemed to be carved out of marble, his pale skin almost glittering with every turn of his head. His coat was tailored to fit just right, outlining his impressive stature but the overwhelming nature of the situation was evident in his stance. He remained silent as Lucienne caught him up to speed and you didn’t want to add to his worries but you wondered why you were still here, surely you could go back home now? 

Gathering some courage you forced yourself to speak up, hoping you didn’t upset him further. “Lord Morpheus-,” you began but before you could continue your boot slipped on some gravel and weeds making you tumble forwards. You never met the ground, instead Dream had swiftly turned at the sound of your gasp, hands now at your shoulders to steady you. One might have imagined his hands to be cold, like the darkness he controlled, but instead you felt warmth seeping into your jacket. Dream couldn’t help but gulp, his mouth went dry as he realized the position you were both in. He hadn’t touched or been touched in one hundred years and your proximity to him made his heart beat faster. 

“Dream. Call me Dream or just Morpheus,” he corrected you, voice regaining a bit of that velvety texture. Lucienne’s eyebrows jumped up in surprise at his words. Dream was a stickler for titles and tradition but here he was offering his name to you so freely. 

“Dream, thank you,” you smiled as you managed to get your footing again. Strangely enough a part of Dream did not want to let go but he could feel Lucienne’s questioning gaze so he forced himself to remove his hands from your shoulders and continue towards the castle. 

With every step you could see Dream’s shoulders drop, his regal stance wavering in the face of his decimated throne room. No one spoke for a while, the somber reality finally sinking in. Even if this was not your realm, the pain was palpable in the air. 

“I kept a journal for a while. A chronicle of everything that happened in your absence. But slowly, the words began to fade. Sometime after you left, all the books in the library became bound volumes of blank paper. The next day, the whole library was gone. I never found it again,” Lucienne explained sadly, voice echoing through the room. With every word Dream began to pace around like a caged lion, hand raking through his wild black locks. “And yet you remained while others fled, the royal librarian of an abandoned kingdom,” Dream frowned bitterly. 

“I never felt abandoned. I knew you would return,” Lucienne assured him. 

Her words of reassurance were not enough to soothe Dream, he was intent on showing his true strength, that he was capable of rebuilding his realm. Dream’s jaw clenched as he raised his arms, eyes beginning to glow with effort as glass and rubble began to float. This only lasted a few seconds before he was overcome and he collapsed with a groan. 

Lucienne tried to rush to him but he stopped her with a warning look. “You need rest, my Lord. And food and perhaps a bit more rest, and then you'll be back at full strength.”

“No. Not without my tools.”

“Your tools?”

“My sand, my helm, my ruby.”

“Why? What happened to them?”

“They were taken from me. By my captors. And then taken from them. I know not where. Nor what I am without them,” Dream said from the ground, barely managing to get into a kneeling position. Dream could feel your eyes on him and he almost regretted bringing you here to witness such weakness from him. 

Contrary to what he thought, you did not see him as weak but as a dedicated ruler of his realm. Before you could think of what you were doing, you were kneeling next to him. 

“Don’t-,” he hissed but you did not move away instead you waited patiently until his breathing evened and his jaw began to ease.  

“May I?” you asked, extending your hand. His steel eyes narrowed suspiciously but all he could see was kindness and compassion reflected in yours. Hesitantly he took your hand but you did not move to help him up. 

“No doubt a century under all of those spells caused damage to your mind and body. I can try to help heal you, as much as I can but I’ve been out of practice,” you murmured as your hand closed around his. Dream couldn’t take his eyes off you, entranced by the feeling of your hand in his. Slowly soft light erupted from your intertwined hands and he watched in fascination as it traveled up his hand and into his body. It took a few minutes but soon enough he felt rejuvenated, rested as if he had taken an elixir of the gods. 

“Better?”

Dream gave a short nod, a bit of color returning to his cheeks as you both stood up, hands still holding on tightly to one another. This time you both could see Lucienne’s questioning gaze making your hands untangle. 

“There is only one sure way for me to find my tools,” Dream announced as he took a seat on the steps to his throne. “I must summon the Three-In-One.” 

“Surely it hasn't come to that. Perhaps just this once you could ask one of your siblings for help,” Lucienne suggested. 

A flash of hurt crossed Dream’s face at her words, a pang of betrayal stinging his heart. “My siblings have their own realms to attend to, I have mine. We do not interfere in each other's affairs. I am quite sure they know what happened to me. And not one of them came to my aid,” Dream’s voice dropped to a whisper. 

You had been debating if you would reveal everything to him but Destruction had sent you to save him for a reason, to show he had not given up on his brother, you owed this to Dream. 

“Not all your siblings abandoned you Dream. It was who Destruction sent me.”

As soon as your words hit Dream’s ears his eyes widened, mouth agape at your statement as he stood up in incredulity. 

“Destruction of the Endless is your patron?” Lucienne asked in disbelief. 

“Yes. Long ago before he disappeared, he created me. Well not exactly created but he asked Death for a favor. He didn’t want to have to create something from scratch, so he took me, fresh on the doorstep of death and wiped me of my memories before imbuing me with abilities,” you explained, mind wandering back to your first memory. 

Every atom of your being felt as if it was being lit ablaze, every muscle twitching in agony as energy pulsed through you. Eyes shut, your mind was a blur, confused and afraid. 

“Everything must die to be reborn. So be reborn with a new purpose- to bring balance to this world in my name,” a booming voice entered your mind. It took a few more seconds before your eyes flew open and the first thing you saw was him, your creator, Destruction. 

“Why would he do that? How did he not tell us?” Dream tilted his head in question. He tried to enter your mind but to his surprise there was a block of some sort keeping him from entering, perhaps Destruction’s work. 

“Destruction was not known for his openness and communication,” you sighed. “As to why he did it, I think he felt guilty. He saw the path humans were going down and what it would lead them to so he wanted someone who could help them. He wanted me to bring balance especially when some of them grew too strong. When they advanced too far and created weapons that could wipe them off the face of the earth,” you explained with a grimace. 

“Where did he go? Where is he?” 

One moment he was almost kind, soft spoken and vulnerable and now he was commanding and you felt suffocated by his presence. Dream instantly regretted his emotions getting the better of him, so he took a step back to give you space. But you understood, all The Endless were probably desperate to know of Destruction’s whereabouts. 

“That I do not know,” you replied as you crossed your arms over your chest and Dream could feel the sadness radiating from you. “One day the doors to his realm simply closed. I could not find them. He shut me out and never said a word. With no clear direction I was left to find my own way,” you finished, eyes glistening with tears. 

“That must have been very hard. I am sorry you had to go through that,” Lucienne spoke up and it dawned on you that she must have felt the same way when Dream was kidnapped. 

“So is (Y/N) your true name?” Dream asked, changing the subject. 

“Yes. He let me keep my given name but since I was the only one he had ever given this responsibility to he simply titled me- Warrior.”

Dream was a bit impressed by that, it explained your strength and ability to break him out. “Warrior, Creation of Destruction, I thank you for setting me free. The Dreaming is forever in your debt. If there is something you wish, I will grant it to you if it is within my power,” Dream announced, sending a chill down your spine as your title was spoken for the first time since Destruction himself. There was only one thing you wanted at that moment so you rolled your shoulders back and steadied your voice. 

“Let me help you find your tools.” 

“I’m sure Lord Morpheus has that under control,” Lucienne said coolly. 

“I’m sure he does but I was sent here for a reason. My mission doesn’t end here,” you protested, with a pleading look. Dream had an unreadable look on his face, as he pondered your words. He took advantage of the chance to study you, your incredibly emotional eyes that made his heart flutter. Your voice was light but filled with wisdom of a thousand lives that you had lived. Your stance conveyed both confidence and trepidation. Yes, your mission did not end here, even he could recognize that. 

“If that is what you wish. Be warned that it will be arduous and dangerous, do not take this on lightly,” Dream cautioned you but his words did not faze you as a bright smile spread across your lips. 

“What’s the worst that can happen?” 

Dream felt unlike himself, having to stop himself from mirroring your smile, had being imprisoned changed him so much? 

“I would not speak so soon, let’s see what kind of Warrior you truly are.”

[lol-im-done]

Savior of Dreams | Dream X Reader

Pairing: Lord Morpheus X Immortal!Reader

Summary: Preparing to leave his post, Destruction envisions a being to bring balance to a chaotic world, to help humanity. From that vision comes you, now immortal and imbued with abilities. After decades without a mission you are tasked with saving the King of Dreams. It takes you down a path you never imagined and brings forth feelings Dream has not felt in hundreds of years.

Author's Note: I am basing this off the show and the little knowledge I have of The Sandman comics so it is not 100% accurate!

I'm planning on making this two parts but if I feel inspired I may add some more. Feedback is always appreciated!

Can be found on AO3 as well.

Part One Summary: After decades of a normal unassuming life you are tasked with rescuing Dream of the Endless.

Part One:

For the past few decades you had awoken from your short lived slumber like most mortals did, even if you yourself were no longer mortal. It usually started with rubbing your bleary eyes and slapping your hand over your alarm clock before shuffling into the kitchen for a cup of tea. Then you would open the curtains to look out at whatever city you found yourself in before continuing your routine. Not today. All night you had been tossing and turning, unable to get comfortable, your skin itching as if a million ants walked across your body. There was a sensation at the back of your subconscious you had not felt in years. Then suddenly as if doused with ice cold water you sat straight up with a gasp as you heard that voice you had almost forgotten. 

“Find him....imprisoned.....Wych Cross....Burgess Mansion,” the distant voice instructed.

Scrambling to turn on your light you looked around wildly. “Find who?” you called out, hands clenching at the papers scattered over your bed. 

“Dream.”

“Oh gods- Destruction is that you? Please don’t go-,” you stammered but as quickly as his voice had come it had disappeared. Tears flooded your eyes as you tried to calm your racing heart. It had been so long since you had heard from your creator, the Endless that had made you into who you were now. Trying not to fall into a wormhole of feelings you had tried desperately to avoid, you focused on your task at hand. One thing was for certain- Lord Morpheus, King of Dreams & Nightmares, Dream of the Endless needed you. 

It was the middle of the night but you made sure to send an email to the university you were currently teaching history at that you would be taking a leave of absence citing a family emergency. In a matter of minutes you were locking up the house before heading out to the backyard, hopping on one leg as you squeezed into your boots. Patting down the pockets on your leather jacket and jeans you made sure you had your phone, dagger and wallet. Well, it was now or never. 

“Wych Cross. Burgess Mansion,” you repeat to yourself, glancing behind you to your small home ignoring the uncomfortable feeling in your chest. Letting muscle memory take over, your hands arced through the air in front of you as you created the necessary portal. The space in front of you rippled before you made a motion with your hands to stretch the opening apart large enough for you to walk through. It wasn’t a strong portal, years of not creating one had made your powers weak with disuse. Taking a deep breath you stepped through. It made your stomach lurch and vision go blurry as every cell in your body buzzed with energy and you could barely contain your scream as you traveled through towards Wych Cross. A few seconds later after your body felt like it had been put through a blender you landed onto wet grass, barely managing to stop yourself from barfing. 

“I’m so out of practice,” you groaned, as you rolled over. Looking up you were relieved to find yourself outside of a mansion. It was old, grandiose and covered in vines. It was also pulsing with magic. There had to be some sort of spell keeping the King of Dreams here, and it must also be keeping things out. Taking a few tentative steps forward you extended your hand slowly. It was definitely magic, it made your hand tingle as you ran your hand over the barely visible barrier. Thankful for the gifts bestowed on you by your patron it didn’t take much effort to break through. Easily enough you found a way in, following the trail of magic essence down to the cellar, trying to ignore the dark feeling that washed over you. Confronted by gates with a complicated looking lock you knew this must be it. Practically buzzing with anticipation, It didn’t take much effort to break the lock on the gates, squeezing it tightly between your fingers. As soon as the pieces of metal crashed onto the floor, two security guards lurched forward from their seats, hands scrambling for their guns. With practice form you sent carefully placed punches until they slid to the floor unconscious. 

Dream had been curled up on the floor of the sphere that imprisoned him, attempting to rest but the sound of shouting awoke him. Nothing like this had happened since the day he was almost freed by Jessamy. That’s when he saw who was responsible for this commotion- you. Even through all of the enchantments keeping his power at bay, he could tell you weren’t mortal. Magic was present in your aura, golden and spiraling around you. At that same moment your eyes met his and a tingle went up your spine. Never had you seen eyes that shade of blue before, a streak of quicksilver flashing through them. It was like you were under a trance, forgetting why you were even there. Dream was also frozen in place, staring into your eyes, a strange feeling washing over him. A groan from one of the security guards made you jump in place, finally blinking you were snapped out of your thoughts and were able to truly understand the gravity of the situation before you. Your heart plummeted at the sight of the Endless trapped in a glass sphere, a ring of protection spells surrounding the cage. Unsure of what to say or how even to address him, you nervously wiped your hands on your jeans before clearing your throat.

“Um- Lord Morpheus?” 

In response he slowly stood to full height, and you lifted your eyes to the space above him trying not to blush at his naked state. “I- I was sent to break you free, I’m (Y/N),” you tried to explain. 

“Break me free?” Dream finally spoke, surprised at hearing his own voice leave his lips after so long. His voice was deep, gravely and like velvet, not at all what you were expecting. Stopping your thoughts from the direction they were running in you focused back on the task at hand. 

“Yes. I can try to explain it all later but I have to get you out first,” you replied before taking your boot and dragging it across the spells on the floor. In an instant Dream felt a rush of his power flow into him, his body shuddering from the sensation. It took you a second to make a plan in your head before you readied your stance.

“Stand back,” you warned. Apprehensiveness filled his eyes but when he saw the determination in yours he retreated backward. Winding your arm back, you took in a sharp breath of air before slamming your fist against the glass. Crack. His eyes widened slightly in surprise at your strength. With a grunt your fist pounded against the glass again and again. More cracks appeared and your fists showed no signs of injury before finally the cracks splintered across the whole sphere and it exploded. The force pushed you backwards, your body skidding on the concrete as Dream was able to fully summon his power. Covering your eyes you tried to keep the sand and blinding light at bay, the sheer power radiating off Dream almost too much to bear. Was this it? Was your mission done? How do you get out of here? Your thoughts were cut short as your body began to be dragged towards him, your hands trying to find something to hold onto. 

“Do not fight it,” you felt his voice whisper in your ear. That’s when you realized what it was, a portal of swirling sand that he was already floating towards. You were helpless to stop it and before you knew it you were being sucked in, your vision spinning before it all went black.

“Are you alright?” 

The question rattled around in your head until you managed to open your eyes, blinking slowly to adjust to the light. Dream stood silently above you now dressed in all black, hands behind his back as he peered down at you with a stoic look. It had not been him who questioned your wellbeing but a woman behind him. 

“After portaling across a continent to break out Lord Morpheus I’m surprised I made it through that-,” you sighed, averting your eyes from his intimidating gaze. 

“You freed Lord Morpheus?” the spectacled woman asked, unable to hide her surprise. Standing up shakily you finally took the chance to look around at your surroundings. Holy shit, there was only one place this could be, you were in The Dreaming. Still feeling his intense gaze on you, you looked down at your hands suddenly feeling very out of place in his realm. 

“It's kind of a long story,” you replied.

“After a hundred years of imprisonment, you out of all the beings in this universe, managed to free me. I wish to know how and why,” Dream said softly, in an attempt to ease your nervousness. Before you could reply he turned around and began walking towards the towering gates of The Dreaming and you were left with no choice but to follow. 

[lol-im-done]

Hunt for Vengeance (Bruce Wayne X Reader)

Chapter One

Tags: Bruce Wayne X Reader, Slight!Edward Nashton X Reader, Slow Burn, Angst, Trauma, Violence, Friends to Lovers, Enhanced!Reader

Can also be found on AO3!

Chapter Two:

Gotham hadn’t changed much since you were a child, the division between the upper and lower class as wide as ever and clear as you sped down its aging streets. Crime and drug use had skyrocketed in recent years, the safety net for those in need had withered away. Even then it was the only home you ever had and you considered yourself quite fortunate nowadays even in your tiny studio apartment on the bad side of town. As you made your way to Wayne Tower you found yourself taking the long way before stopping in front of the gates of the abandoned Gotham Orphanage. The gates were now hanging on by a thread, vines crawling over them as if trying to hide the shameful past that lay in its burnt walls. Once you had been left at these very gates after your parents' untimely demise and there you had stayed until The Man had taken you. Shaking your head you scoffed softly, how naive you had been to believe that was going to be a new start for you. Instead it was the beginning of a horror filled life with the scars still etched on your skin. Placing your helmet back on you continued on to the only other place besides your apartment you ever felt safe in this god forsaken city- Bruce Wayne’s home.

The sound of your motorcycle arriving into the Batcave as you dubbed it, broke Bruce out of his thoughts. Looking over his shoulder he watched as you parked your bike before sliding off agilely. The corner of his lip curved upwards, a shadow of a smile as he saw you wearing one of his faded t-shirts from his high school days. He had let you borrow it after your clothes had been fried off one night after the two of you had gone after an avid arsonist and it quickly became a staple in your wardrobe. His eyes roamed over you from the top of free flowing hair to your black jeans and sneakers. Seeing you in your natural state was a rarity and he treasured it. It made things feel normal.

“Still going through the footage?” you asked, heading straight to the warm bowl of oatmeal that awaited you on a little table next to Bruce’s workstation. He nodded, taking screenshots as he scrolled through more footage of the crime scene. Eating the nourishing meal you noticed how he had yet to fully change out of his clothes from the night before, the black shadows smeared over his eyes. Setting down your spoon you went over to the couch in the corner of the cave, patting the space next to you catching Bruce’s attention.

“C'mere Bruce,” you said, taking out the makeup wipes you always kept in stock in your locker. He looked a bit conflicted, not wanting to step away from important work but your hard stare made him relent before making his way over to you. His tall frame quickly got comfortable across from you, used to this routine by now. Gently you began the process of wiping off the darkness from around his eyes to reveal the Bruce that lay underneath. His scowl eased and his eyes softened under your focused gaze. His eyes fluttered shut as your light touch soothed him like a hot shower after a long night. Simultaneously and unbeknownst to each other, you both were reminiscing about one of your memories together much like this moment.

“Hold still Bruce,” you whispered as you tilted his face upwards trying hard not to stare at his chiseled cheeks and intense eyes. He shivered under your warm touch, eyes focused on your face which was only a few inches from his. Bruce couldn’t tell if you could feel the rising tension or not, your reserved nature making it difficult to decipher your emotions.

“We can try out a few things. Got to find something that won’t irritate your eyes or smudge too bad,” you said, picking up some black eyeshadow. He watched in fond amusement as the corner of your tongue poked out in concentration as you began to swish the product around his eyes with a brush before pulling back to inspect.

“Does it not flatter my eyes?” Bruce tried to joke. He knew it was a weak attempt, anyone else would have rolled their eyes but you let out a bark of laughter.

“Honestly it looks good, it’s got glitter,” you mused, passing him a mirror. A breathy chuckle escaped him and over the next hour Bruce realized it was the first time in months, perhaps even years he felt happy. Genuinely, unabashedly happy as you tilted your head back and laughed along with him. There in his bathroom where he would stare at his reflection alone, haunted and broken now it was filled with your combined childlike giggles. Bruce smirked as he drew on bat wings around your eyes with some eyeliner.

“You look like my number one fan,” he smirked. You were unable to hide the blush that spread across your cheeks. Before you could reply, a familiar alert went off on his phone. The shift was instantaneous, his lips formed a hard line and your eyes became serious. Back to work it was.

“Was the Commissioner telling the truth? About the East Side?” Bruce suddenly asked, breaking you out of your flashback. The lack of remorse on your face and familiar frown were answer enough for Bruce.

“You can’t keep killing people like that (Y/N),” he practically growled. With a frustrated sigh you scooted away from him, unable to handle his judgmental gaze.

“Oh please! Don’t you just ‘accidentally’ maim and kill people? What I did was bring down a group of human traffickers and did Gotham a service,” you snapped, crossing your arms. “I also told the truth it was self defense. I was just going to tie them up and expose them. Taking a page out of your book,” you bristled. Bruce remained silent, taking your words in. He wasn’t necessarily upset with you, he was scared for you more than anything especially if the Commissioner knew about what you had done.

“I’m worried about them taking you one day,” he admitted softly, making you snap your head up to look at him in surprise. Concern was evident on his face, his sharp jaw tight with tension.

“I can’t change the past or what I’ve done Bruce. If the GCPD decided to go after me they’d have plenty of ammunition to lock me away for a long time,” you sighed dejectly. Slowly you felt Bruce scoot closer to you until you let your head fall against his shoulder, cherishing the small moment of physical contact. There were no hugs exchanged between you, but small touches and reassuring nods here and there. The closeness to him at this moment didn’t help the growing feelings you felt for this man. It made butterflies erupt in your stomach as you felt yourself get almost giddy at the thought of holding hands or one day even kissing Bruce. But alas no, there were haphazard boundaries that could not be crossed. Deep in your thoughts, breaths coming to match Bruce’s you didn’t realize he was having similar contemplations. Ever since deciding to step back from the public eye and focus on becoming Batman he thought his days of human interaction and everything that came with it were over. Until he met you of course. A mysterious but strong willed woman on her own path that managed to intertwine with his own. Now you weren’t just his ally, you were his closest friend. The relationship had been frosty at first, born out of a need for survival as two young vigilantes but it had weathered many storms. He also did not want to ruin whatever the two of you had, he had lost too much already in his life. He silently thanked the universe everyday that you were in his life. But that also brought the reality of the risks you both took, the risk to your lives. All of that had been clear the night you two had first met.

Sighing in exhaustion you got to work cleaning off your collection of blood stained knives, a bucket of cold water and bleach next to you. Efficiently your hands cleaned off the evidence, the bleach making your bruises and cuts burn but you ignored the quick pain. In the distance you heard the rumble of a motorcycle but you knew who it was. He had been watching and tracking your hunt, you were sure of it. Continuing your task at hand you didn’t bother to look up at the newly titled Batman strode in.

“You killed the man that was found hanging from the lamppost a few hours ago,” Batman announced in his trademark deep tone. Smirking slightly, your hands brought out a now washed knife as you grabbed some towels to dry them off.

“How did you figure that one out, Batsy?” you replied smoothly, polishing the knife slowly almost like a warning to him. In response he brought out a knife, identical to the one in your hand. Okay that one was on you, cursing yourself at your sloppiness.

“Witnesses also said you had a prior altercation with him at a bar,” he finished, tossing you the knife which you caught midair. Rolling your eyes you stood up to finally face him. God he was tall, you had to crane your neck to look up at him. The first thing that struck you were the bluest eyes you had ever seen behind a black helmet. He wore tactical pants and what looked like a modified tactical vest. Certainly not bullet proof from the looks of it.

“He was a rapist. I did what I had to,” you snapped, unable to hold back the disgust in your tone.

“Then you’re a murderer,” he growled.

“You break the law too Batman! Or had you forgotten you’re just a vigilante,” you shouted. “Just because you don’t actively kill people doesn’t make you better than me,” you turned your nose up at him. Before he could reply the sound of screeching tires and footsteps flooded the area. You recognized some of the voices- Marone’s men.

“You were followed!” you cried. Panic flooded your body, it didn’t matter if they were here for you or him, you were both done for.

“I didn’t know!” he hissed back.

“Shit,” you grumbled as multiple men carrying guns burst into the room. In that small split second of silence and anticipation you shared a look with Batman. A look of  determination and understanding was exchanged, a bond had just been forged. Then all hell broke loose and bullets filled the air as you both dived for cover behind pillars. The next few minutes were a blur, the two of you fighting tooth and nail to survive. The flickering lights above you suddenly gave you an idea as you finished throwing one of your knives into a man’s eye.

“Pass me that gun!” you shouted, pointing to one that lay next to him.

“What are you going to do?” he asked, kicking another attacker in the chest.

“You’re going to have to trust me!” you called out. He paused for a moment, looking straight at you as if weighing his options. More bullets filled the air and in his hesitancy two bullets hit him in the stomach. Something twitched inside you as you watched him fall to the ground, hiding behind the pillar, groaning in pain. Kneeling down you crawled to him and watched as his face was pinched in pain. Taking the gun you let your own bullets fly but not at the mobsters, at the lights above making the room go dark. They all paused in confusion, trying to focus with only the moonlight to guide them. They never got a chance to see you stand, stretching out your arms as a silver glint flashed in your eyes. A surge of energy exploded from your hands, smacking into all of them with enough force to break multiple bones. Screams of pain filled the air then silence. Bruce, still bleeding out, was stunned at your display of power. He had never seen something like that and for a moment he thought he was hallucinating.

“Hey, hey they’re all down. I need to get you to the hospital,” you said kneeling down once more. Bruce looked into your eyes, focusing on the silver that melted into your eye color to keep awake.

“Got something to heal me?” he rasped out.

“Powers don’t work that way sorry,” you grimaced, wiggling your fingers. Blood continued to stream out of his body and he felt cold engulf him. Bruce knew he couldn’t go to the hospital, so he had only one option open to him. To trust you.

“In my pocket....phone...dial 1. He’ll let you know where to take me,” Bruce whispered. Nodding you did as instructed and by the time he had gone unconscious you had strapped him into the back of a stolen car and driven off. Imagine your surprise at speeding into the basement level of Wayne Tower. It didn’t take a genius to realize who the vigilante bleeding out in the back seat was. Dragging him out and onto the floor you watched as his blood streaked the floor, your heart stopped as he went still, no longer groaning in pain.

“Wake up!” you shouted as you deposited him on the ground. “Help! Someone help!” you screamed as you pressed your fingers into his wound. Thankfully Alfred Pennyworth had come to the rescue and soon Bruce Wayne was in his bed, bandages covering his abdomen. You stood in the hallway, anxiously pacing until Alfred finally exited the room.

“Thanks to you Master Wayne is alive and well,” Alfred spoke up. Pausing your pacing you glanced down at your blood stained hands and let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding.

“Why did you help him? You could have left him there and saved yourself,” Alfred asked. You had been pondering that same question in your head this whole time.

“I don’t know. He was there to arrest me, stop me I don’t know but when they ambushed us I realized we were more alike than I thought,” you shrugged.

“Will you expose Batman's identity?” he then asked bluntly. Confusion filled your face as you shook your head fervently.

“Never. It doesn’t matter to me that he’s Bruce Wayne. So what if he’s a billionaire orphan? I’m a poor orphan doing the same thing,” you mused. Little did you know that Bruce heard your words. Now we felt guilty for going after you, putting you both in that position.

“In that case he would like to see you,” Alfred smiled, holding the door open. Giving Alfred a nervous look you slid into the dark room. Carefully you walked over to Bruce’s bedside where he looked up at you with those blue eyes that sent a tingle down your spine.

“We work well together,” you finally spoke, taking some napkins from his bedside to clean your hands.

“Are you implying we should be teammates or something?” he asked, tilting his head back on the pillows.

“Allies,” you offered as an alternative.

“Then I think I deserve your name at least,” he said and your lips pursed in displeasure.

“You know I’m Bruce Wayne now. I know about your powers. I only need a name,” he said.

“Only if you promise not to look me up. To look into my past,” you replied seriously, eyes darkening. He nods quietly in agreement.

“Everything you want to know about me will come in due course Mr. Wayne,” you say softly.

“Bruce. In here I’m just Bruce,” he corrects you. Taking off your flimsy eye covering you revealed your face to him.

“I’m (Y/N),” you smile, extending your hand. The rest was history.

“Master Bruce?” Alfred called out as the elevator doors slid open. Jumping in place, you instantly separated from one another and stood to attention. “Ah! Miss (Y/N) I’m glad you got here in time for your oatmeal,” he smiled at you.

“Thank you Alfred,” you thanked the man that had become like a father figure to you. Walking over to your locker you desperately tried to hide the heat in your cheeks but Alfred had a pleased smile, not oblivious to what he had stepped into. Bruce padded over to the computer screens to reveal his work from the cypher and riddle. DRIVE, was the answer it was revealed which led to meeting up with Gordon at the site of the Mayor Mitchell’s garage. Tonight you wore a newer version of your suit, almost identical to Bruce’s but a dark gray instead of black with graphite colored shadows to compliment your silhouette. The chestplate was bullet proof as was the coverings on your arms and legs for the utmost protection.

“Nice getup,” Gordon noted and you smiled proudly at Bruce. Entering the garage you were faced with two long rows of expensive sports cars. It was clear he wasn’t getting these just from his public service salary. Corruption was a staple for those in higher office.

“Must be nice to be Mayor,” Gordon said sarcastically as you walked along the cars looking for any clues. At the same moment, you and Bruce paused in front of a sleek silver car, a glint of something at the wheel catching your eye. Bruce kneeled down and pulled at something before revealing a pair of bloody shears.

“Killer must have used it to cut off the Mayor’s finger,” Gordon grimaced, taking it for evidence. Carefully you placed your gloved hand against the door handle, sending a pulse of energy into the door making it unlock. With a UV light Bruce shined it throughout the car as Gordon peered over your shoulder.

“What are you looking for?” Gordon asked as Bruce reached into the glove box.

“USB Port,” you murmured, watching in quiet interest as Bruce’s eyes flickered with surprise. Jackpot. He slowly brought out the USB which had a familiar finger attached at the end making your nose scrunch up at the smell.

“Thumb...drive,” Bruce deadpanned and you couldn’t stop the snort that escaped you, making Bruce smirk. Gordon looked at the two of you like you were insane. “Real comedic,” Gordon shook his head before grabbing his laptop. Inserting the USB drive it held encrypted files he reluctantly took the thumb from Bruce and used it to unlock the files. Suddenly pictures popped up before a whooshing sound came from the computer.

“Shit shit. It sent out the pictures from my email to all the news channels in Gotham. I’m gonna catch hell for this,” Gordon groaned but your eyes roamed the pictures for any clues. It was the Mayor outside the Iceberg Lounge and his arm, a young looking woman.

“Looks like The Penguin too,” you said, pointing to a man in the corner of the picture. Bruce shook his head in annoyance, he hated having to go to the Iceberg Lounge and hated having to interact with people like The Penguin.

“I’ll head to the Iceberg Lounge. Need to find out who she is and why she was with the Mayor,” he announced. It was clear from the tone of his voice he meant to go alone but you understood. Too many eyes at the Iceberg Lounge, one vigilante walking in and making trouble was more than enough. Parting ways he promised to call you once he had a lead so you climbed onto your motorcycle and went off to do your rounds. The night air was frigid once you made it to the rooftops, ears alert to any sounds of distress or troublemaking. Taking out a tiny night vision binocular from your belt you looked around until something nearby made you perk up. A man shouted in pain and the sounds of thuds followed. Using a burst of energy to propel yourself upwards you curved through the air until you reached the scene of an attempted mugging. Dropping down from the roof you landed gracefully into the alleyway. Edward was a bit shocked to see you appear before him, your hair swaying in the cold wind. Immediately the two thugs began to run off, familiar with your ways but you managed to catch one by the scruff of the neck, pulling him backwards before dumping him on the ground. Edward watched in dark fascination as you pressed your boot against the thug’s throat, a snarl on your face.

“Don’t let me catch you messing with anyone again. Next time I won’t be so nice,” you warned as the man squirmed and panted beneath you. Finally letting go the man ran off with a frightened cry. Waiting until he was out of sight you turned around to see your old friend. It felt a bit nerve wracking to finally be standing in front of him as Huntress but then again he had been the one who first supported your plans to become a vigilante.

“Edward, what are you doing on this side of town?” you asked, stepping closer to him. Edward gulped, suddenly feeling overwhelmed by your presence.

“I-uh I have a friend who lives over here,” he managed to say. Your eyes squinted behind your mask as you analyzed him and he could tell you knew he was lying but you decided against calling him out.

“Alright. Stay out of the alleyways then. You know better,” you admonished him. Before you could walk away Edward managed to find his voice.

“Are you still helping Batman?” he asked, voice tight and eyes enlarged behind his glasses.

“Why?” you narrowed your eyes.

“I saw on the internet somewhere you had been spotted together,” he hung his head, a bitterness in his voice that you chose to ignore.

“We’re just allies,” you said. Edward looked like he was going to say something before he shifted in place and changed the subject.

“Things are starting to change. Gotham won’t be the same and I don’t understand why you’re trying to stop the inevitable from happening,” he said. His words would have been concerning but a lot of people in the city were thinking the same thing. Also he always had a habit of being vague and dramatic.

“I can’t stand by and let this Riddler destroy the city. Every time a madman emerges innocent people get hurt,” you replied darkly. He suddenly looked offended at your words and he bit back a curse before softening once more.

“We could leave, you know. Like we always said we would,” he whispered, sounding like the Edward you once knew. Those old promises had been broken, shattered like your own heart when he had hurt you so long ago so you shook your head.

“You know it’s not the same as it was,” you whispered sadly, voice cracking with emotion. Turning around you missed the heartbroken look on Edward’s face, the way his hands clenched at his sides as he fought the urge to run up to you and drag you to his apartment. To have you by his side as his plan was set in motion, safe and with him, not running around with Batman. Instead he watched as you disappeared into the haze of the night and out of his life once more.

[lol-im-done]

Hunt for Vengeance (Bruce Wayne X Reader)

Summary: As an orphan living in Gotham you thought that was at bad as it would get but after being taken as an experiment due to your telekinetic abilities your life is plagued with nightmares and the after effects. After escaping you return to Gotham hoping to be reunited with your old friend Edward Nashton but find him a changed man. Taking up your own mission of revenge your life intertwines with that of Bruce Wayne, The Batman. The lives of these orphans will soon collide in a twisted way and you're faced with a choice- side with your childhood friend or with the vigilante you've come to love.

Tags: Bruce Wayne X Reader, Slight!Edward Nashton X Reader, Slow Burn, Angst, Trauma, Violence, Friends to Lovers, Enhanced!Reader

Chapter One:

Halloween night was like most nights in Gotham. Heavy rain drops fell from the sky hitting the plates of your kevlar armor, sliding over it like tears. Looking up you gazed at the ominous bat symbol, a warning that lit up the sky. Earlier you had been patrolling your sector of Gotham when the bat symbol flashed above you, beckoning you to the abandoned construction site. So there you waited, eyes peering over the vast skyline as Jim Gordon appeared next to you.

“Is he here yet?” Gordon asked, wrapping his jacket tighter around himself as thunder rumbled in the distance.

“Almost,” you replied. The cold wind was slicing over you but you remained warm under your layered armor. Moments later you felt his presence, turning to see him stride in, cape billowing dramatically around him. There he was- Batman, vengeance himself, or simply Bruce Wayne to you. It took effort to keep your smile at bay due to the aura of seriousness in the air.

“B,” you greeted with a tilt of your head. He blinked slowly in acknowledgment, remaining silent as he usually did. Gordon shifted uneasily in his place as he put his hands on his hips looking disturbed. This piqued your interest, not many things spooked Lieutenant Jim Gordon.

“Something happened tonight at the Mayor’s home and I think you’d both like to see it,” Gordon announced.

“Is it related to anything ongoing?” you asked, eyes darkening behind your domino mask.

“No...we haven’t seen something like this before,” Gordon replied with a hint of apprehension in his voice, making you and Bruce exchange a silent look. Over the past year that you’ve known Bruce it had become a necessary skill to communicate without words, and both being introverted individuals certainly helped. This made for uncomfortable silences for Gordon who swore the pair of you were telepathically linked.

“He was murdered,” Bruce stated, voice low and gravely. It often surprised you how different he sounded as Batman, when he was without the suit he was a soft spoken man.

“Yes but its the state of his murder that is unusual,” Gordon replied. His radio went off, a detective requesting his presence.

“It’s best we go now,” Gordon instructed as he rushed back to the elevator.

“Need a ride?” Bruce asked when Gordon was out of ear shot. This time his voice was back to normal, like a warm breeze hitting your ears.

“Batmobile?” you asked hopefully, looking up at him.

“I told you not to call it that. But no it's not ready yet,” he huffed, beginning to walk off. Snickering softly you followed him to the edge of the building where he readied the line that would rappel him down to his waiting motorcycle.

“Go ahead. I’ll catch up,” you said and he nodded in understanding before beginning his descent. Once on the ground he looked up expectantly, waiting for you to practice your new technique. Making sure Gordon was not out yet and there were no bystanders you took a deep breath before stepping off. The sensation of falling through the air wasn’t something you were used to and before you knew it you were approaching the ground. Clenching your fist, a silver shimmer almost invisible to the naked eye covered the bottom half of your body halting your fall midair just a few feet above Bruce. Slowly letting your hand unclench you landed with a grunt beside him, his gloved hand coming out to steady you.

“You’re getting better,” he noted before climbing on his bike before scooting up to make space for you.

“Well I learned from the best,” you grinned before the engine revved and you were off, following alongside Gordon’s patrol car. With your arms wrapped around Bruce’s waist you let your head rest against his back, trying to keep your anxiety at bay in preparation for what you were going to encounter. When you neared the Mayor’s grand home it became clear the seriousness of the crime. To have Mayor Mitchell killed in his own home while he was running for reelection on Halloween night was all kind of bad news, something in your gut told you this was not going to be an easy thing to solve. To be honest, solving crimes wasn’t really your cup of tea but ever since creating an alliance with Batman he had been roping you into all sorts of investigations. Gordon had to take you and Bruce through the back entrance, away from reporters and the public eye. Walking in behind Gordon, harsh and frightened stares followed the vigilantes down the never ending hallways. Usually the police left you alone, you stayed mostly under the radar. Bruce made himself much more infamous, crossing paths with the cops more often than not. Some felt he was a nuisance, that he had no business being a vigilante. They merely tolerated you as you focused your hunts on the individuals and as long as you didn’t target any cops or people of importance they let you be. But as the two of you stalked down the hallway the looks of fear weren’t unwarranted, anyone would be a fool not to be frightened of The Batman and Huntress. The crime scene was close, you could see the flashing of the cameras and see detectives passing through. Suddenly you bumped rather harshly into Bruce who had stopped at the doorway.

“Hey, hey. Police action. You two can’t go in there, even if one of you happens to be my favorite vigilante,” Officer Hernandez interjected, placing his hand on Bruce’s chest before sending you a wink. You rolled your eyes in response. Bruce swore Officer Hernandez had a crush on you and you knew Bruce would tease you later for it.

“Let them through Officer Hernandez. They’re with me,” Gordon grumbled. Officer Hernandez slowly pulled his hand back, backing off as Bruce stared him down with his intimidating gaze.

“Gonna let us through, Officer?” you spoke up, trying to keep your voice light and persuasive. This seemed to snap him out of it as he allowed you to pass through before shooting you a charming smile which you ignored. Finally making it through, a chill went up your spine as you looked around.

“Shit,” you whispered. This was new, you had never seen a crime scene like this before. You had seen the work of serial killers, of gang killings, seen the results of brutal acts of violence and you kept your hunts simple and to the point. Whoever did this was sending a message, a very direct message in big bold red letters over newspaper clippings. This was chilling. Bruce was already standing by the body of the Mayor as he looked over it carefully, his lenses recording everything. The Mayor’s hand was missing a finger, and his face was wrapped in duct tape with the words- No More Lies.

“This was also found,” a detective spoke up, bringing out a letter. Coming closer to stand next to Bruce you leaned forward to inspect it.

“To Huntress and The Batman,” you read aloud, eyebrows crinkling in confusion. The killer left a card for you and Bruce? Glancing up, you could see the wheels turning in Bruce’s head already, his mouth in a tense line. Bruce’s stomach clenched uncomfortably seeing your alias on the card, a surge of protectiveness filling his body forcing him to take a deep breathe.

“‘From your secret friend. Whoo?’” Gordon reads, opening the card, “‘Haven’t a clue? Let’s play a game, just me and you.’” It looked like any other card from the card section at the store, childlike and colorful. “‘What does a liar do when he’s dead?’”.

“There’s a cipher too,” the other detective explained, holding out an evidence packet with a paper covered in hand-drawn symbols. Tilting your head you tried to make something of them but they had no letters or numbers, no clear interpretation.

“Any of this mean anything to you two?” Gordon asks, holding out the card. The writing looked familiar for a second but you couldn’t quite put your finger on it. Ha- finger. Bruce would have laughed at that. Before you could even begin to formulate words someone stomped into the room before shouting- “What’s going on?!”.

“I asked them to come, Pete,” Gordon sighed, approaching the upset man.

“This is a crime scene!” Commissioner Peter Savage cried. “This is Mitchell for chrissakes!” Savage continues. “You know, I cut you a lot of slack, Jim, ‘cause we got history. But this goes way over the line-,” he stammers before Gordon lifts up the card for him to read, making Savage go as red as a tomato.

“Wait! They’re involved in this?” he hisses, finally turning his attention towards you and Bruce. Gordon shook his head fervently trying to defend the vigilantes, as the two of remained silent during the exchange.

“They could be suspects! They’re damned vigilantes,” he shouted in an accusing tone. Bruce kept his face impassive and reserved but you couldn’t help the frown that crossed your face at his words.

“Don’t pout like that Huntress! I know you’re behind those killings on the East Side from a few months ago,” he snapped, pointing a finger at you and you felt Bruce stiffen behind you at the revelation. Damn, you’d deal with him later.

“It was technically self defense-,” you began and for a moment it looked like he was going to lunge at you before a strong voice interrupted.

“He lies still,” Bruce called out, making his way in front of Mitchell’s body.

“Excuse me?” Savage exclaims.

“‘What does a liar do when he’s dead?’ He lies still. He solved the riddle,” you explain in reply. Bruce notices the proud glint in your eye which could have made him blush but instead he comes back to your side like a shadow.

“Oh, Jesus,” Savage shakes his head as he looks over at the Mayor’s body.

“They’re ready for you Commissioner,” an officer called out from the entrance.

“Just- get them out of here okay? Now!” Commissioner Savage snaps at Gordon before stomping off once more.

“Okay, let’s go,” Gordon waved you two over as he began to walk off as well. Silently you followed him before pausing. “B, look,” you gestured to the small bloody footprint on the floor.

“Kid found him,” Gordon explained with a sad shake of his head. Instantly you and Bruce’s heads snapped up, eyes widening. Coming to another foyer you caught sight of the Mayor’s son who sat on his bed, surrounded by detectives. Bile rose in your throat as your own memories surged forward. Blinking back tears you forced the memories of finding your parents dead bodies away and out of your mind, back into that little box you kept in the back of your subconscious. Bruce was as still as a statue, relieving his own past as he stared at the boy.

“We really need to go,” Gordon’s voice snapped you out of your trance-like state. Looking over at Bruce you noticed moisture building in his striking blue eyes. Giving him an equally concerned look you guided him out. Bidding farewell to Gordon you got back on the motorcycle, arms tightening around Bruce’s waist to comfort yourself.

“Drop me off by my place,” you asked softly. Bruce nodded as he sped off, trying to beat the sun that peaked in the horizon. A few minutes later you were in the alleyway around the corner from your apartment and you slid off with a sigh. Bruce immediately felt the weight of the day back on his shoulders as the warmth of your body disappeared. It was why he secretly enjoyed giving you rides on his motorcycle, the physical contact for his touch starved soul.

“I need to do something but I’ll be over soon,” you promised. Be careful, Bruce wanted to say but he knew you could handle yourself so he gave a short nod before revving the engine and driving off. Quickly you crept up to the roof before beginning your journey to another side of town for your weekly stop. You still had a soft spot for your old friend, Edward Nashton, making sure to keep an eye on him on your rounds. He had a pretty simple routine from what you could tell- work, home, the library. Nothing out of the ordinary it seemed to you, but you couldn't always keep an eye on him. You hadn’t actually spoken to him in over a year, the last time had been eventful. Accusations, heartbreak, a screaming match that left you both in tears. But he was your Eddie, the only one left of your past so you kept a watchful eye over him. By the time the sun came out he was walking out of his apartment building on his way to work it seemed. Same round clear glasses that framed his cherub face, hands fussing over his soft brown hair. Staying on the ledge of a nearby roof you stretched out, bones cracking from the stress. A new day in Gotham which would lead to another night of crime fighting and now a new mission. This was not at all what you had thought life would be, then again you never anticipated becoming an orphan at the age of five, being kidnapped at seventeen and a full vigilante by your early twenties. The phone in your pocket went off, a message from Bruce asking you to hurry up or your breakfast would go cold. With a small smile you tucked it away before beginning your journey to Wayne Tower.

[lol-im-done]

Sneak peek of a future Batman X Reader (Slight Reader X Edward Nashton) story I might drop 👀

Heavy rain drops fell from the sky hitting your kevlar armor and sliding down like tears over the dark suit. Looking up at the night sky you gazed at the familiar bat symbol, a warning to those wishing to do crime in Gotham. The criminals of the city faced two options come nightfall, Batman who would emerge from the shadows to exact vengeance or they would face your wrath once you hunted them down. Two allied vigilantes with slightly different moral codes, one who would never touch a gun and the other who had no qualms with sliding their knife against a man’s throat. What had started as the Batman trying to stop you one night bloomed into something resembling a friendship. So there you waited, your eyes peering over the vast skyline as Jim Gordon appeared next to you.

“Is he here yet?” Gordon asked, wrapping his jacket tighter around himself as thunder rumbled in the distance.

“Almost,” you replied, the wind slicing over you. A few seconds later you felt his presence, and you turned to give him a silent nod in greeting.

“Something happened tonight at the Mayor’s home and I think you’d both like to see it,” Gordon said.

“Is it related to anything ongoing?” you asked.

“No...this isn’t something we’ve seen before,” Gordon replied with a hint of hesitancy in his voice, making you and Bruce exchange a silent look. Most of the time no words were needed between the two of you, it made for uncomfortable silences for Gordon swore the pair of you were telepathically linked.

[lol-im-done]

sorry if this is a dumb question but does anyone know if there is a transcript for the Batman online? I like to incorporate actual dialogue from the movies into my writing. I’ve seen a few fan fics with accurate dialogue, so anything helps!

[lol-im-done]

Titan (Adrian Chase X Reader) Part 1

Hello! I absolutely love Adrian Chase after watching Peacemaker so I wanted to write a story for him. Here is a short intro chapter. Feedback and comments always welcome!

Summary: Following your friend Rick Flag's death you're lost in the world when Amanda Waller sends you to Evergreen to join the mission against the butterflies. As a member of Task Force X AKA the Suicide Squad you don't have much of a choice. Here you meet Adrian Chase who brings laughter, joy and so much more back into your life.

Tags: Enhanced Reader, Falling in Love, Violence, Swearing, Grief, Angst

Part 1:

Looking at the cracks in the ceiling above you, you forced yourself to suck in deep breaths of cold hotel room air in an attempt to calm yourself. Nightmares plagued your mind like they did every night leaving you restless as you wiped the sweat from your brow, clenching the bed sheets beneath you. The clock on the bedside table read 3:07 am and after a futile attempt to sleep you had only managed to get 5 hours. You had done much more on much less sleep though. A flash of memories made your head spin as you tried to quell them.

“Digger!” you cried in horror, arm outstretched trying to reach out for him before the explosion ripped him apart. Your vision swam and the next thing you knew you were in that street in Corto Maltese when Harley had approached you with tear filled eyes.

“Rick...he’s gone…I’m sorry,” Harley said sadly before you let out a wail of despair as your whole world came to a stop. Rick, your best friend, your Rick was dead. You were barely allowed a moment to mourn before you were fighting for your life once more.

Leaping from the bed you stumbled to the bathroom, desperate for the cool relief of the shower as you tried to drown out the memories. This was better than being stuck at Belle Reeve in that poor excuse of a prison, you thought to yourself as your hands wandered to the deep scar around your collarbone. Downside was you were tasked to a new mission by Amanda fucking Waller. Just at the thought of that woman you slammed your hand against the shower wall, little cracks appearing on the tile.

“Peaceful thoughts,” you whispered to yourself as you tried not to lose your cool. This was going to be a hell of a next few days, but you just needed to get through this mission and then you’d plan your ultimate escape which was likely going to be a suicide mission. But hey, you had a lot of experience with those. Turning off the shower you went out to watch some crappy TV to drown out the thoughts that plagued your mind before it was time to meet the team.

A few hours later you were steering your motorcycle into the parking lot behind a faded red bricked building which looked abandoned.

“What a shit show,” you sighed with a shake of your head as you parked. Walking into the headquarters you noticed the scattered set up and some familiar faces.

“Welcome to Evergreen,” Clemson Murn smiled as he caught sight of you.

“Murn,” you shook his hand with, forcing a tight smile on your face. The occupants of the room seemed surprised at your arrival.

“Everyone this is (Y/N) AKA Titan. I’m sure most of you know her from Task Force X,” Murn announced. Crossing your arms you sent a glare at Emilia Harcourt and John Economos who exchanged a slightly guilty glance.

“I know Harcourt and Economos. Hard to forget Corto Maltese,” you spat before turning to the new woman.

“Leota Adebayo,” she grinned nervously and you gave her a curt nod.

“I didn’t realize we’d have another ex-Suicide Squad member,” Peacemaker grinned from his chair.

“Shut up Peacemaker,” you rolled your eyes.

“No offense but why is she here? Waller didn’t mention adding her,” Harcourt spoke up.

“After Smith’s fuck up a few days ago, Waller thought it was best to have an experienced Task Force X member join us,” Murn explained. You could have laughed at Peacemaker’s offended expression but instead you simply smirked.

“Hope you have your suit, we’re heading out to the first target,” Harcourt said, grabbing a box of tech. Pulling aside your leather jacket you revealed the top of your dark gray fight suit.

“Alright let’s go,” Murn clapped his hand and you were all off to the van that awaited in the lot. As you walked towards the back you tried to ignore the frankly stupid conversation they were having, wanting nothing more than to bash Peacemaker’s stupid face in. Gods he annoyed you, all that fake self righteousness and peace talk when he was literally in jail for murder like the rest of you at Belle Reeve. As you waited by the van you saw movement by the trash can, your eyebrow going up in interest.

“Who's the guy that's peeking out behind the trash can?” Adebayo suddenly asked. That’s when you saw the flash of black and teal appear again and your hand went to your dagger at your side.

“Fսck, it's Vigilante. He's trying to be helpful,” Peacemaker sighed.

“Hey! Get outta here!” Harcourt snapped.

“What? I'm just looking from behind a trash can. It's a normal thing to do,” a man’s voice replied.

“The hell it is!” Harcourt called out.

“Are you a psychiatrist?” Vigilante asked as he stood to full height. So far he didn’t seem like a threat, more like an interesting new development.

“What?”

“Then don't tell me what's normal! Maybe my secret identity is a psychiatrist and I know what's normal,” Vigilante retorted as he began to walk away.

“If you're a psychiatrist, we're all screwed. Get the fսck out of here!” Harcourt said.

“I was about to go, and then you had to say that. Now if I acquiesce, I'll look and feel small,” Vigilante argued as he turned back around getting closer. Honestly you didn’t have the patience to deal with this but seeing Harcourt get more and more annoyed made it bearable so you leaned against the van and watched in quiet interest.

“Vij, bro, come on. Be cool,” Peacemaker practically pleaded.

“I just wanna make sure you're okay. I don't trust these people. Let me come along and help!” Vigilante offered, stepping forward.

“No way in hell,” Harcourt shook her head fervently which made a lightbulb go off in your head. Why not make this mission a little bit interesting. Pushing Peacemaker aside you stood in front of Vigilante, curling your fingers, you beckoned him forward as the others watched on in silence waiting for your next move. Slowly he walked towards you, a bit hesitant in his steps as if he was afraid.

“You know how to fight?” you asked.

“He cannot be a part of-,” Harcourt immediately said but you cut her off with a raised hand.

“Well?” you tilted your head.

“Hell yeah I can fight. Just ask Peacemaker,” he replied, confidently placing his hands on his waist.

“If you join us you’ll have to show us your face,” you said, motioning to his mask and red visor.

“I can’t,” he shook his head, almost panicking. Oh he was one of those people, like Batman, forever obsessed with the secret identity.

“Then fuck off, I can’t trust people I can’t see,” you snapped before turning around to get in the van. He teetered on the balls of his feet like he was in deep inner conflict as the others went back to filling the van.

“I’ll make you a deal! If you can’t take my mask off in 10 seconds then I can come with you and not reveal my secret identity,” he suddenly offered. This piqued your interest once more as you paused your movements.

“Dude just go. I don’t think you’d want to take that chance,” Peacemaker warned, knowing full well how this was going to go. This seemed to spur Vigilante on as he realized he would be able to prove his idol wrong.

“Nope! Now you have to accept the challenge!” he declared, readying his stance in front of you.

“Alright,” you shrugged, walking calmly towards him

“This is gonna be fun to watch. Ten. Nine-,” Peacemaker immediately began to count down and before Vigilante knew it you had shot towards him in the blink of an eye, sending a kick to his abdomen making him double over in pain before putting him in a chokehold, fingers already grasping at his mask. He punched and kicked but it was no use and by the time Chris counted to zero his mask was in your hand. He slumped in defeat as you let him go carefully to his knees.

“Holy shit your Gut Chase’s younger brother!” Chris exclaimed.

“The busboy from Fennel Fields?” Adebayo asked.

“Yeah,” Vigilante admitted almost shyly as he stood up, running a hand over the back of his head. As he turned to look at you, you were momentarily stunned by the green of his eyes and the brown mess of curls on his head.

“Have any of you fought her before? She was unusually strong,” Vigilante said.

“Illegal human experimentation,” you replied, with a shrug before passing him back his mask. Feeling a bit bad after doing that to him you extended your hand politely.

“(Y/N). AKA Titan,” you said, as he took your hand into his. A tingle shot up your spine at the contact, eyes widening slightly in surprise.

“Adrian Chase. Vigilante,” he smiled and you took the time to admire his dimples as he continued to shake your hand with no intention of stopping. It should have made you uncomfortable but instead you allowed him to continue.

“Uh you can let go of her hand now,” Peacemaker snorted. You sent him a death glare before taking back your hand and brushing past him to get on the van.

“Are you seriously going to let this happen?” Harcourt asked Murn who simply shrugged.

“I trust her judgment,” Murn replied as everyone piled in, Vigilante following. As everyone took their seats, Vigilante chose one next to you before placing his mask on once more. Disappointment crept in now that those striking green eyes were hidden away. Green was once your favorite color.

[lol-im-done]

Blossoming Love (Bruce Wayne x Reader)

I've been so obsessed after watching the Batman and this idea came to me one morning. This will likely have a second part. Hope you enjoy!

Summary: Set after the events of 'The Batman', a GCPD detective with a crush on the Batman has a one night stand with Bruce Wayne not knowing they are the same man. What results is a blossoming love that they never thought possible. Will likely be split in two parts.

Tags: Unplanned Pregnancy, Friends to Lovers

Part One:

Before Bruce had met you he had a general idea of how his life was going to go, even after the Riddler had brought destruction to Gotham. He would continue to live his double life, bring justice and become a symbol of hope to the city as Batman. He would then return, worn out and bruised to Wayne Tower and find ways to try and feel human as he continued to live in solitude. It had been a few weeks after they had drained the city and rebuilt the sea walls that things began to pick up again. With crime rampant it would take a lot to get it back under control so he found himself in the company of Jim Gordon and his team more often. He had seen you around here and there but finally became introduced to you when you officially joined Gordon’s division. You were Jim Gordon’s right hand person, probably the only other person besides Batman he fully trusted in his line of work. You were intelligent, witty and above all compassionate and kind which was rare to find in Gotham these days. Maybe that’s what attracted Bruce to you when he started interacting with you. You greeted him with a bright smile, not with a look of distrust like the others. Gordon trusted him and that was enough for you. He was so broody, so silent and intimidating you couldn’t help but want to crack that tough exterior. It also didn’t help that you had begun harboring a crush on the masked vigilante.

“Catch any baddies tonight Batman?” you would ask and Bruce would get a flutter in his chest at your words. He was hesitant to call you a friend at first but soon enough you had solidified him as your own.

“I don’t know who you are under the mask or dark eyeshadow-,” you said one day.

“Paint. Not eyeshadow,” he corrected gruffly as he examined the dead body in front of him.

“Sure Batman,” you grinned before continuing. “But we see each other pretty regularly, we exchang semi personal information though that's mostly me, we joke. I’ve also saved your life once or twice,” you chuckled. “So yes you’re my friend,” you finished with that gentle smile.

“You saved my life one and a half times,” he deadpanned, making you tilt your head back and laugh. He swore it was the sweetest sound he had heard. But you were right, you had saved his life before. ‘The best shot in GCPD’ they called you due to your extremely steady hands and expert eyes, you rarely missed your shot. You had been at one point a special sniper for the GCPD for hostage situations before moving to Gordon’s team. So when Batman was cornered by trained killers in a warehouse one night you had burst in and with efficiency let your bullets fly, taking them all down.

“Bet you regret your thing about no guns,” you smirked as he stood there dumbfounded before Gordon arrived with backup. Bruce had to return quickly to his bathroom that night for an extremely cold shower, trying to get the heated thoughts about you out of his mind. After that it became harder to make eye contact with your captivating eyes.

“Batsy Batsy,” you mused as he entered the crime scene. You were jotting down notes, hair piled atop your head and he admired the way some of the strands framed your face.

“Anything of importance?” he asked, his intimidating gaze roaming the room.

“Mhmm. We got a partial by the window and actually some….,” you began but your words blurred away as he watched you, only focused on your animated style of talking which he found so endearing. As you spoke he found himself thinking about what it would be like to be with you as Bruce Wayne. To be able to form a true friendship, to truly laugh with you and be himself. The day he would meet you as Bruce came sooner than he anticipated when you showed up to the Wayne Tower one late evening. Alfred had been hesitant to let you up but Bruce insisted quickly on allowing you in, hands nervously combing through his hair to look presentable. When you walked into the main foyer of his home he had to force himself to act normally, to act as if he had never met you before.

“I apologize Mr. Wayne I’ve been sent by Detective Jim Gordon of the GCPD. We have a few questions about an acquaintance of yours,” you apologized with that familiar smile.

“Of course, whatever I can do to help,” he replied, gesturing to the table as he pulled out a seat for you. For the next half hour you asked your questions trying so hard to concentrate on your task at hand and not the incredibly attractive Bruce Wayne next to you. Those eyes, god those eyes, you felt you could drown in them. The attraction was mutual and clear when he invited you to stay for a glass of wine. It was probably incredibly inappropriate but you were technically no longer on the clock and that wine sure looked good. He brought you to a side room, the lamps casting shadows across his handsome face and you took a seat on the grand loveseat, admiring the beautiful architecture.

“Do you usually invite people to stay for wine?” you couldn’t help but ask.

“People don’t usually come over,” he replied with a small shrug as he poured you some wine. You would like to say you were drunk with what happened next but you had barely finished your own glass as you chatted away with the charming but shy man in front of you when his hand went to your knee. You froze, eyes latching onto his as he whispered your name almost like a plea. Surging forward for a powerful kiss, electricity crackled between you two as his hands immediately roamed over your body. Bruce was desperate to have you, your moans and whines like music to his ears. In a matter of minutes you were both naked on the carpet but before he took it further he paused, pressing his forehead to yours in a strangely intimate way.

“Bruce,” you gasped out as he filled you, crying out in pleasure. He took you there on the carpet and again in his room from dusk until dawn. There was no time to really think of what you had done as you left early the next morning wishing you could stay in his arms but with a sigh you walked out. So deep in your thoughts you forgot to leave a note with your name and number just in case. Instead you had left your card with the woman at the front who gave you a disapproving look making you go red with embarrassment. Bruce never left your thoughts after that as you daydreamed of his voice, his hands, and those eyes. Four weeks later when you missed your period you had returned to the Tower practically in tears, to try to see him but were turned away as if you were trash. You had tried what you could to get in contact with him but no luck and you tried not to take it personally. It took you a few days of wallowing and crying to make your mind up. You were capable and ready. You could do this, so you wiped your tears, let your family know before striding into work to notify them of your pregnancy and were placed on desk duty until it was time for your maternity leave.

It had been too long, weeks and weeks of waiting to see you as Bruce or Batman but you were nowhere to be found. Bruce had fought the urge to track you down, he was so close to getting into your personal files out of sheer desperation until Alfred intervened. He could see the turmoil Bruce was facing but he reminded him of your right to privacy so Bruce was left with no other choice but to let you go. He never thought he’d see you again as he resumed his restless nights as Batman. Until tonight. There you were chatting to Gordon outside of the abandoned warehouse, soft murmurs filling the air as other cops walked around gathering evidence. Bruce slowly made his way towards you silent even in his suit, noticing the way your hair had gotten longer since he saw you last. Strangely you held one hand to your back as if trying to get comfortable standing and he wondered if you had gotten hurt during this drug bust. He caught Gordon’s eye first who softly poked your shoulder, before gesturing towards him. Slowly you turned, eyes bright and smile widening as you made eye contact with Batman.

“B-Man!“ you waved and he would have returned it but instead he stopped mid step as his eyes roamed down to your stomach. Shit, he thought.

“Oh this old thing,” you joked, moving your jacket aside to reveal a blooming baby bump but he remained silent as stone.

“I’ll let you guys catch up,” Gordon said, noticing the increasing awkward tension before walking off. Bruce could not stop staring and he knew it must have made you uncomfortable as you crossed your arms over your chest, teetering on the balls of your feet.

“Never seen a pregnant woman before?” you asked, breaking him out of his shock.

“No I have… I was just surprised. Congratulations,” he recovered trying to keep his voice low.

“Thanks. It’s been a long few weeks so far and I’ve been staying in the office and was supposed to until August but this was a big bust so I came out to help Gordon,” you explained.

“You shouldn’t be out this late,” he couldn’t help but say, feeling overprotective for a moment, eyes looking around for any danger.

“Well now I have you to keep us safe,” you grinned. Your words were like a crack of lightning, igniting his body with feelings he’d never had before.

“The father anyone I would know?” he blurted out, cringing internally at his wording. You let out a nervous chuckle, not at all insulted by his words, as you rubbed your bump absentmindedly.

“There’s only one guy in the whole world who could be the father but he…he’s not really in the picture,” you sighed sadly. Bruce felt his chest tighten uncomfortably at your words, eyes not leaving your swollen bump. Yes it all lined up, your due date with the night you had come over for that late night interview.

“Have you tried reaching out?” he asked quietly and you swore his voice sounded familiar for a moment.

“Once. But his secretary kind of kicked me out,” you shook your head. Bruce felt a surge of anger at this, damn that new secretary, damn her and her meddling.

“I tried other ways but he’s kind of a recluse. No worries though, I’m moving to be closer to family,” you spoke softly and Bruce’s heart stopped.

“You’re leaving Gotham?” he asked, stepping forward closer to you.

“I have a few friends and a cousin here but I would appreciate the support from my parents and sisters. They live two hours away and I’ve already talked to Gordon. He’s sad to see me go but agreed it’s best,” you explained. I’ll be sad to see you go, no I’d be devastated, Bruce thought. Before he could respond someone called your name, so with an apologetic smile you gave him a goodbye wave before walking off. He didn’t even bother to stay to investigate; he went straight back home to think of his next steps.

A few nights later you were dozing off on the couch, a cheesy romcom on the TV when a soft knock awoke you. Sighing you tried to ignore it but it persisted.

“Coming!” you called out as you put on your slippers before waddling to the door. So sleepy you hadn’t bothered to check the peephole so it was safe to say you almost peed your pants when you saw who was waiting on the other side.

“Bruce,” you squeaked, half hiding behind the door in your disheveled state.

“(Y/N),” he replied calmly but under his shirt his heart was pounding and his hands began to sweat.

“Uh- how can I help you?” you choked out, trying your best to remain calm.

“I think it's best if I come inside so we can talk,” he said. Nodding, you opened the door and let him in, watching silently as he kicked off his shoes before looking to you for guidance.

“Please, sit,” you said, moving towards the couch. None of you said a thing for a few moments as you tried to get comfortable. Finally he turned to look at you, eyes now on your very pregnant belly and it was crystal clear why he was here.

“I had heard that you were pregnant. I wouldn’t presume to say I have a right to your personal life or information or anything like that but I wanted to respect you by coming to you directly,” he spoke softly.

“Of course, I understand,” you nodded, urging him to continue. Bruce took a deep breath, twiddling his hands in his lap as if trying to gain the confidence to ask the question you both knew was coming.

“I just have to know- is the baby mine? ” he asked in such a broken voice it made tears fill your eyes as you nodded, looking down at your hands to avoid bursting into tears.

“I- I swear I didn’t mean for this to happen! I was on birth control and I know you might not believe me and would need a DNA test-,” you began to ramble.

“No. I trust you,” he interrupted. Looking up in surprise you were shocked by the sincerity in which he said those words, your eyebrows crinkling as he scooted closer to you.

“I need to tell you something, it’s going to be shocking but I trust you and it needs to be said before this goes forward,” Bruce said seriously. Taking his trembling hand into yours you squeezed it reassuringly.

“I'm Batman,” he admitted softly, and your blood ran cold. “It’s only right for you to know since I want to be involved in your life and the baby’s. I wouldn’t lie to you,” he said. Your mouth fell open as you shifted on the couch to accommodate your bump as you took in the news. The baby seemed to jump in your stomach in reaction to your shock. Bruce noticed the way your stomach trembled and he fought the urge to run his hands over it.

“I’ve been thinking about it for a while and I’d be willing to take some time off. To give us time to get to know one another and focus on what's best for the baby,” he continued.

“Batman gets paternity leave,” was what you found yourself saying and Bruce let out a light laugh at this.

“Yeah something like that,” he smiled softly.

“Thank you for telling me Bruce. It means a lot that you’ve decided to trust me like this. I agree we need time to figure things out, to see the best way to co-parent,” you said, still not letting go of his hand.

“I know it's a lot to take in right now but now that you know who I am I’d feel safer having you close to me. If it's something you’re open to, I hope you could come live with me,” he said. It was a lot to take in in the span of a few minutes, Bruce Wayne your night one stand also being Batman who you had been harboring a crush on for months now asking you to move into Wayne Tower. But as the seconds went on, your heart calmed down as Bruce and Batman blended into one person in front of you. Holding his hand you felt safe and at peace.

“If you’ll have us,” you smiled, taking his hand and placing it on your bump. Seeing his face light up as the baby kicked was to become one of your fondest memories. Yes, this was not at all what you had planned for your life and there would be a lot to work through on both sides but in that moment you knew, you loved Bruce Wayne.