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moonlight-prose · 1 year

Text

HURT

➝ 01. THE CURSE OF THE FOLD

a/n: apocalyptic stories are probably one of my favorite genres to write, because angst is my bread and butter. so here i am writing the angsiest fucking story ever. i've plotted it entirely and worked on it while waiting for the show to drop to finally post this. so hopefully you enjoy. (this takes place about ten years before the last of us.)

summary: you were alone; watched everyone you love die or you killed them yourself. and you thought it would remain that way forever...till him.

word count: 6k+

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

warnings: not sexually explicit but still 18+ (READ AT YOUR OWN RISK BUT BE AWARE), gore, violence, tw blood, angst, death, assault, one bed trope, gratuitous prose about the apocalypse setting, probably ooc writing for joel, more angst. please let me know if i missed anything.

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You were going to die. That was no longer a concept that you found to be impossible in your early stages of life. No, you knew you would die sooner rather than later. You knew that survival was a thing to strive for and death had become something to welcome. When the world turns to shit, leaving humanity on their own to fight against monsters, death didn’t seem so scary in the long run.

It became peaceful—an end that you found to be the better option. You’d rather die by the hands of humans or your own than become one of those things. Turning wasn’t the way you’d go. It was brutal and horrific; left more heartache behind than the desired numbing sensation you hoped came with death. No, you refused to become something that was no longer deemed a human, but was now viewed as a monster.

This was a promise you made to yourself ten years ago and even now as you stared down the barrel of a gun, you knew you made the right choice. Death would be swift—an end to your life that you found satisfaction in—rather than something you feared every fucking day.

You’d stopped on your journey in an attempt to find a safe situation for the night. One that wouldn’t leave you running in the morning; for a brief moment you figured this town would do the trick. You could hide out until the sun came up and finally find a few peaceful hours of sleep. There was no one around for miles (at least you assumed as much) and what few infected were around you could handle yourself. You weren’t the best with a gun, but you could protect yourself when your life was on the line.

If only you had kept going, then maybe you wouldn’t be in this fucked situation.

The scent of gunpowder burned in the air, the potent bitterness of blood mixed with it—creating a lethal combination. You ran out of bullets two dead bodies ago—reaching for the fallen weapon by your side when three more men came out of the darkness. Their faces were covered by dirty worn-in bandanas with only their eyes showing, illuminated by the dim lights of the moon, but it was in their eyes that you saw the truth. They were hollow. Just like the other three men who thought they could come after you. Their souls disappeared a long time ago, only to leave the remnant of a human shell that was forced to do things in order to survive.

This particular sight wasn't unusual to you in the slightest.

You’d seen the best of people become tainted, broken. After all, you were one of them. The consequences of this fucking virus reached you as well; tearing the life you built up to pieces. Leaving you to watch the ashes of what came before float in the air.

You were the veteran of a war without end. A survivor of the life that only wished to see you gone and buried. The longer you looked at them—the man you figured to be the leader stepping forward—the more you understood why humans did what they did.

They were an idiotic group of people that let things fester; that would watch the world burn ten times over before helping those around them.

He gripped your hair, yanking it until your hoarse scream of pain echoed in the night air. The barrel of the gun was shoved beneath your chin, his dark eyes watching in glee as you struggled. He loved to feel the rush of power, watching as people grew helpless to his actions. You understood that just from looking at him. Yet another pathetic man that believed he could take what he wanted from someone traveling alone. So you stopped fighting. You froze in his hold, fixing him with a smile so sweet he could have sworn it was made of sugar cane.

“You’re afraid to die,” you said softly, wincing when his hold tightened.

“Shut the fuck up,” he spit, his voice was deep yet ingrained with the hesitation of a man who didn’t like that you touched so close to the truth.

You knew this game. A sick and twisted version of a power play in order to believe that they held the upper hand in this situation. When in fact that remained far from the truth. Though you held no weapon, no more chances of survival—you had something they didn't. You didn't fear what came next. It was a better deal than this shit one right here.

Your heart slowed to a steady beat; the welcoming hope re-entering your heart with each baited breath you took. When would he finally pull the trigger? When would you finally have peace? When would the pain—the torture—finally cease? You hoped the lingering questions all came with the same answer. Soon.

"Go ahead," you prompted, going so far as to tilt your chin in his direction—feeling the press of the gun's barrel dig deeper into your skin.

His finger hovered over the trigger, before—much to your dismay—he pulled it away. "You're feisty." You heard the jeering laughter of his friends in the background. "How about we just bring you with us?"

Your stomach dropped. A new unlocked fear sending a chill down your spine. There was always something worse than being turned into a monster, always something far more horrific than not dying by your own hands. It was being trapped in a cage with no lock and no key to get you out.

Fighting against his hold, you tried to grab the gun on the ground, but he yanked you back—the disgusting scent of his breath washing over your face. "Looks like I found what you're afraid of."

"Fuck you,” you spit in his face, struggling against his hold. You refused to be taken, to be treated like an animal put up for slaughter.

He merely laughed, his hold on you tightening with each twist of your body. Dropping your weight, you waited for him to jeer at his friends before slamming the heel of your boot into his foot. As expected, his arms fell away from your body, a howl of pain splintering through the night air. It was enough for you though. He may look tough, but he didn’t seem to be able to handle pain so easily. Yanking yourself free, you felt a cold chill wash over your body as the adrenaline spiked in your body—telling you to keep going. To fight until you were finally free.

Three against one wasn’t entirely in your favor, but you held one thing close to your heart—a belief that would keep you going till your last breath. If there was nothing else to fight for—no one else—then you would fight for yourself. For the past you that used to be desperate for a life, for meaning and purpose. Those two words didn’t mean jackshit anymore in this fucked up world, but to you it meant everything.

Grabbing the metal pipe that looked like it was torn off of a plumbing system, you put what little skill you had in your swing. Really it extended to one softball game in highschool, where you ended up with a ball to the face and a measly participation trophy. You barely had time to even swing the bat before chaos ensued. But it was enough for you.

Lining up your hit you swung.

The pipe hit with a sickening crack against his face, a splatter of red falling to the floor as he fell to one knee. You were pretty sure that you loosened a tooth in his rotten mouth and had half a mind to tear the rest out with your bare hands. His buddies began to advance, their makeshift weapons being pulled from their sides as they spit curses your way. The words of your father echoed in your mind as you took another swing, hitting against one’s side, jamming your elbow into his throat when he curled in on himself.

If you find yourself in a fight, you never let them take you out first.

“Piece of shit,” you snarled, your already bloody and raw fist slamming against the side of his face.

“Grab her arms dumbass!”

Ducking under their outstretched arms, you fumbled with the small screwdriver you found on a trek through one of the houses. With a huffed out breath, you jabbed it into the third guy's armpit, grinning at his cries of agony. He fell to his knees, trying very carefully to take it out without killing himself. Giving you enough to run outside.

The cold air was sharp in your lungs, the anxiety of the situation now rushing through your veins and causing your heart to beat erratically. But you were free.

“You fucking bitch!” The main man roared, his boots thumping harshly against the cracked cement.

Sprinting, you tried to keep a quick pace down the empty street, but the fear of running into anything overlapped the fear of dealing with an already injured man. So, like an idiot you stopped. He was limping, a gash stretching across his cheek and turning his pale skin red. A feral anger flashed in his eyes like an animal hunting its prey; coming in for the final kill. You knew he could practically taste your blood on his tongue.

Your chest heaved, the breath leaving you faster than you could keep it in your lungs, but you wouldn’t go quietly. That was a death you would not accept. No, he’d take you down fighting until you eventually dragged him down to hell right alongside you. If you couldn’t survive, you’d leave behind something to remember. Your hands curled into fists, teeth baring as you watched him approach slowly. The energy in your body was beginning to wane, exhaustion seeping in, but you kept your stance.

Forever choosing to be stubborn.

You never expected the loud bang of a shotgun to go off behind you. The man fell back, his head hitting the sidewalk with another crack—turning the asphalt a darker shade of black. Fear shot down your spine, the realization that you couldn’t fight against someone with a gun while you stood with nothing. You remained still, frozen and watching in horror as the man who nearly ended your life was wiped from this planet entirely. In a way you were relieved, but the knowledge that someone else was walking up to you quickly dampened that feeling instantly.

“You okay?”

The man’s voice was deep, gruff, with a southern drawl you’d heard once before in college. You couldn’t respond—your heart still lodged in your throat. If you were in the right state of mind, you’d say your body was going into shock. His boots stopped a foot away from you, calling your attention as he stood, the shotgun still gripped tightly in his hands.

For a brief moment you allowed your eyes to trail up his figure. Taking in the dirty brown leather jacket that looked like it’d seen better days, jeans with a sewn up hole in the knee, and a black t-shirt. You barely skimmed his face, drinking in his slightly graying dark hair and scruff before he was asking you another question.

“Did he hurt you?” His eyes were focused on the blood that stained your once clean shirt.

“It’s not mine,” you said softly, the panic now wearing off—relinquishing its hold over your body.

He nodded, his brown eyes fixing back on yours. “Are there more?”

“Not anymore,” you replied, staring at the house in the distance.

Oblivious to the slight hint of surprise in his eyes, you felt him step closer. To which you responded by stepping back, keeping the distance as much as possible. You didn’t need to fight another man tonight, who’s weapons far outweighed your own fighting capability. But then he raised his hands as if in surrender. He held his ground, waiting for you to come back to the present, before trying once more to take a small step in your direction.

This time…you let him.

“I’m not gonna hurt you.”

How could you be so sure that his words were the truth? There was a small voice in the back of your head that told you to keep running. Run until you had no choice but to stop. Till you were finally safe from the dangers of this world. Yet you knew that danger was everywhere, plaguing the very ground you walked on and this man…had just saved your life.

Rarely did you find people who wished to help you. Who were simply there as a stroke of luck in your seemingly endless string of awful situations. Once you used to run with people, be a part of a group that watched your back as intently as you watched theirs. But pain and grief seemed to follow you like a ghost. Haunting every turn you made on this never ending journey.

Voicing your thoughts, you fought back against the urge to flee. “You just shot a man and you’re telling me you won’t hurt me?”

“A man who was trying to kill you.”

He had you there.

“What’s your name?” you asked, quickly glancing in the distance—wary that something would come from the darkness.

“Joel.”

You met his brown eyes again. “Why are you here?”

He shrugged, turning away from your scrutinizing gaze. You made his skin itch with just that single look, but he could recognize the underlying fear that flared every now and then in your eyes. A look he once wore when all this shit started. Joel didn’t get scared very often anymore, having seen his fair share of horrors. But seeing you stand there helpless, yet ready to die fighting tooth and nail, made his heart lurch in a way it hadn’t in sometime.

“I could ask you the same thing.” He hiked his bag up higher on his shoulder, catching the way the fading sunlight began to dip below the houses. Casting the both of you in darkness. “Why were you running?”

Scoffing, you crossed your arms against your chest. “Usually when people try to kill me I run.”

Thankfully he didn’t question what was the motive behind their intentions. Already understanding most of it. Once again he glanced at the sky, knowing that if you didn’t find shelter soon you’d be knee deep in shit. He didn’t want that to be how either of you ended. So, he turned away from you, gesturing for you to follow him. If you were smart you’d do it without question, but Joel had a feeling you were stubborn down to your core.

“Where are you going?” you called out, confirming his suspicions with only a few words.

He nearly chuckled. “Finding shelter for the night.”

Catching up, you fell into step beside him. “You won’t kill me right?”

That time he chuckled; the sound striking you in your heart unexpectedly. “You sure are untrustworthy aren’t you?”

“Yeah well…” You fiddled with the strap on your nearly torn backpack. “I haven’t trusted anyone in a while.”

Neither had he.

He didn’t say it outloud though. Joel already knew what came upon those that dared to open themselves up in the midst of anguish. He’d been on the receiving end of that pain and chose to close himself off to it. It would help him more in the long run, than letting the feeling dig its way into his heart. Gnawing away at his insides like a meal.

What he was doing now…keeping you close when in fact you may very well kill him, wasn’t like him. He had half a mind to keep going—leave you here to fend for yourself. But then his eyes met yours, and there was that look. That pain he knew too well. Back when he thought he was going to die without a way to save himself.

He saw himself in you and maybe that’s why he allowed you to traipse along beside him.

You didn’t take kindly to people very often. Preferring to go it alone after what happened with the people you once knew, and this was no different. Staying with him for one night before parting ways would mean nothing to you in the long run. Just another stranger you passed by in the hopes of finding somewhere safe to land. You hoped that this town would be it; that you wouldn’t have to go anywhere for a long time. But the blood on your shirt continued to prove you wrong.

“There’s a two story house about a block away with a fence going around the property.”

He nodded, changing directions and heading towards the old brown building that had seen better days. The windows were broken, the front yard overgrown with weeds, and you weren’t sure if the door worked. It would have to do for the night. You couldn’t risk staying out in the open. Not when those men had found you so easily as they were passing through.

The scent of pine filled your nose as you stepped towards the black gate covered in dead vines. A large tree stood in the center of the yard—beautiful amidst the destruction caused by the world falling to pieces. You wondered what it used to look like—who lived here—before you pushed open the gate. The loud creak echoing in the night air, sent chills down your spine. Perhaps the ghosts of the owners still resided here. Wandering the halls of their former home in the hopes of finding some serenity in the chaos.

Or perhaps…they were infected.

That thought alone nearly made you back away from the property, but Joel walked right in. He seemed to hold no qualms about the building or its past. To him it was just a place to stay until he had to move right along to the next one. He held no permanency in this world—not anymore—and it had been a long time since he hoped for some.

Staying somewhere permanent always ended in death. Or at least that’s what he believed.

“You never answered my question,” you said, following him slowly up the path and to the front porch that was caved in at one spot.

The door opened with a similar haunting creak, similar to the gate; filling your senses with a musty scent of old furniture and molding wood. He crossed the threshold without another word, his hand still gripping the shotgun’s strap on his shoulder. If you were smart, you’d part ways with him right here. You would find a different house to stay in for the night before leaving this place behind when the sun rose. Yet the lingering feeling from earlier still remained in your chest.

If he wanted to kill you, he wouldn’t have saved you.

“Looks old,” you noted, staring at the furniture in what once was a put together living room. Now the couches were torn up, most likely by animals, and the floorboards had water damage to them.

A ripped painting hung above the mantle on the fireplace, small pieces of the original owners coming through strokes of a brush. You caught a glimpse of a girl with red hair and blue eyes. A woman with the exact same features on the other side. A tear went through the middle, severing the young boy and man. Turning the painting into something else entirely.

The sound of his footsteps bounced off the wooden walls as he came downstairs again. Catching you staring at the painting with an intensity in your eyes that he’d never seen before. For a moment he left you alone. Gave you this time to linger in the space of what once was—what would never be again. He used to be torn up about things like this, but eventually he learned that the past would never change, and the future was nothing but a continuous fight for survival.

Eventually he cleared his throat, drawing your attention back to him. “There’s a bedroom upstairs still in pretty good shape.”

You nodded, moving away towards the stairs. “What are the chances of this house still having running water?”

“Slim.”

Something about that response made you smile. You couldn’t put your finger on why, but you took it for what it was.

The bedroom still looked relatively normal, despite the torn comforter and water stained ceilings. The musty smell still remained—the copper scent from blood on your shirt not helping. You wondered if you’d get lucky and find clothes in the closet. Or at least a shirt that could act as a replacement. You made sure to make a mental note to check for that later.

“You can uh—you can take the bed.”

Once again your lips twisted up into somewhat of a grin. “Thank you,” you replied softly, glancing his way briefly.

You’d remember him for his kindness.

That was evident in your mind as you moved towards the bathroom. In all your years of surviving, you’d never taken so quickly to a person. For some unknown reason it felt like you’d known each other for some time—already acting like you’d been on the same journey together. When in fact he would leave tomorrow (as would you) and you’d be lucky if you came across each other again.

Maybe in another life, you mused.

Sure enough, no water came from the sink. You sighed, dropping your head forward as an ache began to spread through your forehead. What you wouldn’t give for an aspirin right about now. Shit, what you wouldn’t give for a stiff drink and a good night’s sleep. They were luxuries you hadn’t partaken in since the world was normal. When you were younger and life still had a bright hue of color about it.

You sighed, scrubbing a hand down your face before exiting back to the bedroom. He was sitting on the edge of the bed, his bag on the ground by his feet and shotgun across his lap. The single sight made you think about a sculpture you’d seen in a class you’d taken before the world fell apart. Of a man sitting in the hand of god, his body curling in on itself—the weight of the world crushing him down.

Even now in the horror that became this world, life imitated art.

“Any water?” he asked, breaking your focus.

“Huh?” You glanced at the sink behind you. “Oh…no it’s dry.”

He nodded. “I’ll take the blanket.”

Standing, he winced slightly before gathering what remained of the blanket at the bottom of the bed. Just the sight caused your heart to twist. You damned yourself, wishing that you could be like everyone else. Able to watch someone else suffer on the sidelines while you protected yourself. Except you couldn’t. Not when you were taught your entire life to care for those in need; to share what you could with others.

“You already said you weren’t going to kill me,” you began, saying it with a slight smile. “So I don’t see why you should take the floor.”

For a brief moment his whole body stiffened, causing you to wonder if you’d stepped over a line. A boundary that he didn’t want to cross with strangers he just met.

“Why?” he asked, turning to face you with an unreadable expression on his face.

You shrugged. “The bed’s too big for me.”

It was partially true. The mattress looked like it would swallow you whole if you let it, but you knew the truth. And something told you he knew as well. He saved your life—this was the least you could do in return. A thank you without actually saying the words. An act of kindness that left a lingering warmth in his chest he hadn’t felt since before the outbreak.

He hesitated, staring at the soft plush bed that would no doubt give his back some relief for the night. “You sure?”

“Yes,” you said without a semblance of doubt in your voice.

Trusting someone this much may wind up to be a mistake on your part, but you pushed that thought aside for the moment. He would most likely be gone before you woke up. Or at least that’s what you told yourself. Sitting on the opposite side of the bed, you allowed your fingers to dig into what remained of the sheets. They were yellowed with age, stained by time, but still soft enough to nearly startle you.

You felt the bed dip on the other side when he sat down.

“You still haven’t answered my question.”

He sighed, the sound deep and ragged. “Not someone to give up easily are you?”

Once again your lips curved into a slight grin. “Nope.”

“I’m heading to Boston. Happened to be passing through on my way here.”

A sensation akin to fear streaked down your spine so quickly, you barely had any time to react. The name sent chills through your whole body. Boston. A city you hadn’t heard about since you left it. You could remember the day vividly; could practically taste the difference in the air as you exited your dorm room. You hadn’t known it then, but your entire world would shift in only a few hours.

You were barely nineteen at the time of the outbreak. Still a kid starting your second year of college with nothing ahead of you but time. Until the campus fell into chaos. You could still remember the screams; the agony of people losing the ones they cared about, to something worse than death.

“You know…” The memories still replayed in your mind on an endless loop. Like a movie with no end. “I went to school in Boston.”

That small detail seemed to catch his attention, because he angled his body slightly to see you better. “You did?”

You nodded, doing your best to breathe evenly in order to stave off the anxiety filling your body. “I was majoring in art history. I wanted to work in a museum one day.”

“Yeah?” He watched you turn slowly, the tension in your muscles dropping slightly the more you told him. “Which one?”

“The Met was my dream job before…”

He sighed, expression shifting to one of understanding. There were plans he had for himself, goals for his life for his family, but now that he could see the bleakness of what his future held, he’d given up the simple act of dreaming. What was there to dream about anyways? But he could see it in you. The hope that remained just beneath the surface of your sorrowful gaze. You were too young when it happened, too young to lose your life that quickly.

“I’ve been there.”

The grief faded slightly, a light returning to your face. “Really?”

He nodded, shifting until he was sitting with his leg extended on the mattress, back pressed to the headboard. “Back when I was in high school, we took a trip up there.”

Mimicking him, you felt the relief in your spine as you finally moved to a comfortable position. “What did you think?”

“Well I’m no expert in art, but I liked it.”

If you weren’t careful you would wind up falling asleep in the middle of speaking. But you fought against the exhaustion that seeped into your bones. Adamant on remaining awake, just to talk to him for a bit longer. His brown eyes watched you settle into a laying down position, your hands clasped together against your stomach. The blood on your shirt had dried to a deep brown color—until you could hardly tell it was there anymore.

“No one has to be an expert in art to appreciate its beauty,” you said softly, staring at the light brown stain in the ceiling that formed rings. It reminded you of what the inside of trees looked like. “I think all you have to do is see it and that’s enough.”

Joel settled in beside you, his back practically screaming in joy at having such a plush bed beneath him.

“Take the portrait downstairs,” you continued, unaware that he had turned his head to watch you. “Anyone can tell it used to be a well painted piece of art, but now it’s torn, severing the image of the family entirely. I think it’s poetic.”

He hummed, catching your attention and causing you to turn your head until your nose practically brushed his. “Poetic huh?”

“It reminds me of my past,” you whispered, taking in the soft lines that were beginning to form on his face. “Tells you a lot about what might have happened here.”

Joel didn’t respond, letting your words settle in his mind. Oblivious to the way they sunk into his heart as well, breaking down a small minuscule piece of the walls he’d placed there. The sound of the crickets outside rang through the open windows, filling the silent spaces between the two of you. He wondered what came before this for you—what would come after this.

“Do you have a place to go after this?” he asked, seeing your eyes grow heavy.

You shook your head. “I haven’t had a place to go in a long time.”

A part of your mind wanted to tell him that you did in fact have somewhere to go, but you couldn’t get the words out. You found that you liked his company; that you didn’t mind who he was as a person. Even though you knew nothing but his name and his path. Except to you…that was enough.

“I hear there’s a quarantine zone down in Boston.” He couldn’t get the question out, letting its implication hang in the air between you in the hopes that you’d understand. Thankfully, you did.

The breath caught in your lungs as you considered it. Returning to the place where it all began for you. The place where your future was meant to start. Just like the painting, you found it poetic in the most gruesome way. But something sour built in your chest. A feeling that told you to stay here; that if you left you’d find your way to even more destruction.

You chose to ignore it in the end.

“Okay,” you breathed, attempting a half-hearted sleepy smile before your eyes fell shut against your own will.

When you woke up, you’d deal with what this meant and how it would work, but you refused to let sleep elude you this time. Whether or not he fell asleep slipped past your mind—your body giving up after hours of strain. The ache would begin in the morning; pain you were familiar with and even welcomed. However for that moment, you were free of it; of the grief that was burrowed so deep in your heart you were afraid it’d never leave.

Unbound from the horrors that awaited you in the early hours of dawn.

You heard the birds first, chirping in the pine tree as they let the rest of the world know that the early morning hours of the day had finally arrived. You felt his arm around your waist, second. Sometime in the night you’d gone from lying side by side, barely touching shoulders, to him pressed firmly against your back. His breath hit the back of your neck, warm and accompanied with the odd snore here and there. It sent shivers down your spine.

Though you both wore several layers of clothing to stay warm during the night, you could still feel the heat of his palm seeping into your stomach. He was still asleep and while you might have agreed to go with him last night, you knew that it was better to leave and go it alone. After all, that’s what you’d been doing.

Holding your breath so as not to make any more noise, you began to shift away from him. Unfortunately for you, his grip on you was a bit too tight for you to remove. You didn’t want to disturb him. What with everything that happened last night. The fear was still a bitter taste on your tongue—reminding you that you could have died last night. That you had him to thank for why you were here in the first place.

Suddenly leaving didn’t sound like the better option anymore.

“You move a lot,” he grumbled. Your heart stopped in your chest for a brief moment.

“I–I’m sorry.” The words caught in your throat when he shifted, something pressing briefly to your lower back before he turned away. He grunted when he sat up, the sound shooting right through you. “We better get a move on.”

He still wanted you to go.

Sitting, you felt the fear begin to dissipate somewhat. “Oh…right,” you said, choosing to do what he did. Ignore that what you felt against your back was in fact what you thought.

The choice might prove better in the long run as you two traveled together. You’d been there before and in the end, it got messier than you wanted. Staying simple—alone but together—would be the easiest option. It would save you from dealing with another loss if something were to happen to him, and you hoped he felt the exact same way. Torment, heartache, they were all things you carried with you at the end of the day. A side effect of the fucking sickness that plagued the earth.

A disease that could never be reversed.

“Do you know how to get to Boston from here?” you asked, reaching for your bag.

“I’m sure we’ll figure it out,” he replied, stopping in front of you, a black piece of clothing in his hands. “Here.”

You must have looked confused, taking what you figured out to be a shirt. A man’s shirt if you looked close enough. “Where did you find this?”

“Went digging through the drawers in the other room.” He turned away, heading out the door before you could give him a real response.

Except you couldn’t find the right words to actually say to him. He was a man of few words. You could tell that right off the bat. Yet his actions seemed to speak volumes, telling you all the things you imagined he’d say. Or maybe…you were on the precipice of losing your mind due to constant stress and pressure. You remember watching movies about the apocalypse and insanity always played a part—the end usually resulting in death.

You figured believing the latter was far better than assuming something about a man you just met last night. While he said he wasn’t here to kill you, the uncertainty in your veins still stuck to the instinct that told you trust had to be earned.

Heading downstairs, you found him in the exact position you were in yesterday. Standing in the middle of the living room, staring at the portrait. He met your gaze when you entered, the shotgun back where it was yesterday, bag still in place.

“Ready?” he asked, watching you adjust your bag and fix your jacket in place. The black t-shirt now underneath it. You left the ruined one in the sink.

“Ready,” you confirmed, following him outside and into the sunlight.

You wondered if there would be others after you and him inside the house; if people were looking for a safe place to stay for the night. Would they see the painting and think of its origin like you had? Or would this just be another place. A hollow building with no life anymore—a corpse that stood against the destruction around it. You smiled bitterly at that thought, knowing that if you were a building…you would be that. A walking ghost amidst nature’s final painting.

Joel walked beside you, his stroll measured and assured. He knew where he was going with each step—unafraid of what he’d find in the distance. So, you fell into step with him, your eyes focused on the horizon as you both walked along the empty street. Leaving the house behind.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x y/n #joel miller #joel miller fic #the last of us #the last of us fic #my writing

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mariposa-writes · 1 year

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The Assistant - Part 3

Summary: You loopy on drugs.

Word count: 1.5k

A/N: Hi, sorry this took so long to get out. I know many of you have been waiting for a third part to this. I was super busy with midterms and then working during all of spring break. I didn't even touch my computer until last night. Hopefully the next few chapters will come out sooner than this one.

Make sure to like and comment! I love feedback!

You alarm was going off, making you groan. It was to early for this. You just wanted to sleep longer. You hated waking up early in the morning, you liked staying up late at night.

You snoozed your alarm for the 5th time, when Travis knocked on your door. "Y/N, you up?" He slowly pushed the door open, letting in light from the hallway.

"Travis" You whined motioning towards the door.

"We gotta leave in 15 minutes."

You buried your face in the pillow, "Just cancel the surgery. I don't want it anymore. I'd rather walk with a bum leg." He rolled his eyes.

"I expect you in the car in 15 minutes or I'm dragging you out." He shut the door, leaving you in darkness.

You groaned, reaching over to turn on the lamp. You put on shorts and a hoodie, before going through your basic morning routine. You were walking into the kitchen 10 minutes later.

"It should be a crime to get up this early just for someone to cut into your body." You complained, as you slipped on your tennis shoes.

"You're just a ray of sunshine in the morning." You rolled your eyes. Travis and you have had enough early morning together that he knew you hated them.

Travis on the other hand was a morning person. You also despised him for it. Why couldn't he do late night workouts instead of morning ones? You never knew.

You climbed into his car and got ready to take another nap. You had a 45 minutes drive and you planned to use it wisely.

You were out within 5 minutes. Travis looked over at your sleeping state and couldn't help but smile. He liked when you looked relaxed, which was something he rarely got to see.

Once you guys got there he woke you up. You guys entered through a private door, so other patients wouldn't see Travis. You sat on the bed in your hospital gown, waiting for the nurse to come back.

"Nervous?" Travis asked.

"What? No. I'm fine."

He raised an eyebrow, "Really, cause you haven't quit tapping your fingers since the nurse told you it was almost time." You placed your hand in your lap, forcing yourself to calm down.

"Maybe I'm a little nervous."

"Don't be. Doctor Locke is a great doctor."

"I know and you'll be here when I get out right?" You asked looking almost bashful, like you didn't believe Travis would stay for the whole thing.

Travis wanted to frown at your question, of course he'd be there when you got out. He wasn't just going to leave you, but what he didn't know is that's what you expected from people.

When you were 11 you had appendicitis and when you got done with the surgery your mom was no where to be found. She'd gone on a date that night, leaving you to an empty hospital room when you'd woken up.

"I'll be here, don't worry." Travis said just as the nurse walked in.

"Ready?" She asked with a bright smile on her face.

"I guess." You said as she injected something in your arm and wheeled you out. You don't remember anything after that.

All you do know is that when you woke up Travis was there, sitting by your bed. "Hey," he said standing up and coming over to you. You smiled at him as his hand reached out to cup your face.

He used his thumb to remove some of hair on your forehead. You leaned into his touch, not even aware of what you were doing. Travis pulled his hand back, when the nurse came in with the doctor.

"Ah, glad to see your awake." Dr. Locke said, as the nurse jotted down your vitals. "Vicky here's gonna help you get dressed and then you'll be free to go." He said pointing to the nurse.

"Ok." You said, trying to keep up. Your brain was scrambled from whatever they used to put you asleep.

"Hey, I'm gonna step out. I'll be back in a minute." You frowned at Travis, "I'll be right back promise."

You nodded, "Ok, lets get you dressed sweetie."

-----

"Dr. Locke." Travis called following the man.

"Hey Travis, what can I do for you?"

"Nothing. I just wanted to say thanks for squeezing her in."

"No problem, anything for a you. She must be pretty important for you to call. You two make a cute couple."

"Oh, she's not my girlfriend. Just my assistant."

"My bad, just judging by the way you looked at her I thought you two were together."

"Yea, just friends."

"Well your a good friend then, I don't know many people that would pay for their 'friends' entire medical bill." With that Dr. Locke left, leaving Travis in the hallway.

Just friends, he reminded himself. You'd never acted interested in anything more and Travis didn't want to overstep or make things awkward.

You were a damn good assistant and he'd be mad if he messed that up and lost you. That's why he kept his distance.

Travis went back into your room and saw you laying in the bed. "She's gonna be out of it for a while and kind of drowsy. We order her some put some pain meds in this bag for her, along with everything else she might need.

"Travis!" You cheered when you finally noticed he was in the room. "You're here!" You smiled bigger than he had ever seen before, making his heart clench.

It's just the drugs, he reminded himself. "Told you I'd be here." He responded, now standing next to your bed.

"We're ready to take her downstairs and load her into your car." The nurse said as she brought in a wheelchair. Travis nodded as the nurse continued, "You can pull your car up the same entrance you came in we'll meet you there."

"Sounds good." He turned to you, "I'll be right back, just gonna get the car."

"Ok," You nodded seriously, which made him laugh.

The nurse loaded you into the wheel chair and pushed you to the entrance Travis was waiting at. He parked the car and got out taking over for the nurse and loading you into the car.

You weren't supposed to put any pressure on your leg for the next 3 weeks. Once you were loaded in the car, Travis got in and started driving. "Travis." You whined, gaining his attention. Not that you ever really lost it.

"What's wrong?" He asked worrying about you.

"I'm starving. I haven't eaten in like 50 million years." You whined, causing him to laugh.

"I don't think it's been that long."

"I think I would know how long it's been since I've last eaten." You replied.

"Ok, my bad." Travis said turning onto the highway. "How about I order us some food, for when we get home."

"Ok, I'll take pizza, Chinese, Mexican, and Italian."

"Your sure you don't want to choose just one?"

"Nope, it's been 50 million years. I want them all." Travis laughed. "Can you please not laugh. How would you feel if you hadn't eaten in 50 million years?" He put a hand over his mouth trying to muffle his chuckling.

You kept talking about random things as he drove you to his house. He was trying not to laugh, but the random things you were blurting out was making it hard.

Finally he pulled into his garage. "Travis!" You shouted as he turned off the car.

His head snapped to face you, "What?"

"How am I supposed to get into the house if I can't walk?" You were starting to freak out. You didn't want to be stuck in his car for 3 weeks.

He placed a hand on your arm calming you down. He spoke slowly, "I have crutches in the back seat for you. Plus I'll help you inside."

You nodded, slowly processing his words. He opened the door and grabbed the crutches for you and then helped you out of the car. You slowly made it inside, Travis helping you the whole way.

He helped you into his bed, and got you situated. "Ok, I'll be right back. I'm going to go order food." He put the remote next to you. "You can watch tv if you want."

"Do you have paramount?"

"No, but I have netflix, hulu, hbo max, peacock, and disney plus."

"How do you not have paramount? It has my favorite show on it." That's when your eyes widened, "Can you not afford it?" You whisper shouted.

He laughed, "I can afford it. But I might not be able to after I order all the food you requested."

"Yes! Go order the food" You commanded, pointing towards the door.

He chuckled, before leaving the room to order all the food you wanted. He had to call 5 different restaurants and placed an order through Hyvee for some ice cream to be delivered.

After he was done he went back to his room, where you were currently staying, to check on you. You were passed out in his bed, with a random tv show playing that he didn't recognize. He grabbed the remote from his nightstand and turned off the tv, before shutting off the lights and exiting the room. Leaving you to rest after a long day, despite it only being noon.

#travis kelce imagine #travis kelce fic #travis kelce x reader #travis kelce #nfl fanfic #nfl imagine #nfl #kansas city chiefs #kc chiefs #chiefs #super bowl

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writersdrug · 8 months

Text

Ghost x Reader x Konig: I Don't Need You (Ch. 4)

<- Previous - Next ->

Summary: You've been sold to a new group - again. KorTac just bought you off of the last team's hands, forcing you to uproot and settle a fifth time. Something feels different about this team, but you remain distant and cold from everyone. You figure in a few months, you'll be tossed onto the next bidder's plate, anyways. No sense in trying to bond with anyone now.

Additionally, Konig takes the first step at cracking through your outer shell.

Warnings: some distasteful jokes.

Notes: Nothing fancy here, just setting up the foundation for the upcoming events. This weekend should be more eventful! Thanks to everyone who's loved it so far, let me know if you'd like to be tagged in the next chapter! (Also, still working on some oneshots and a Price fic too)

A year had passed. It felt like ten. I had been traded between four different private military groups. It felt like forty.

Working with Jax’s group started out just fine. On the first mission, things couldn’t have gone more smoothly. I took down every single enemy that stood in between me, the team, and the hostile package we were saving. We were done in less than three hours. Apparently, that was a problem for the rest of the team. I was too good. So skillful, I was hurting their egos. Rather than think of how I was helping carry out missions successfully without any significant losses, the team complained that I wasn’t fitting in and was causing a problem among the members. “Like she did back at her old base.”

I hadn’t been causing problems at all, but I hadn’t been trying to fit in either. From the moment I walked onto the base, I felt like a reject. I minded my own business and kept to myself, only being a team player when we were briefing or when we were on the field. The rest of the team was just fine with that arrangement, until they thought my skill threatened their reputation. The results of the missions I attended with the group should have convinced Jax to ignore his soldiers’ requests to have me bumped, but as with Price, he had his favorites. And he chose to listen to them.

It was a similar talk as the one I had with Price. You’re good, but the team doesn’t like you. You’re not really causing issues but, indirectly, you are. So we’re selling you to another private group. Even though they were selling me off just as easily and quickly as Price had, this didn’t hurt as much. Because I never had anything here to root myself onto to begin with.

So there I was, back on the heli, squinting down at the complex as my hair whipped around my face. Some soldiers stared back at me, sneering. Some smug. I stared back, expressionless. I’d learned to grow a hard shell around my roots – if I couldn’t be planted anywhere, it wouldn’t hurt as much when I was torn out of the earth again.

The two soldiers in the front seat were quiet. They pulled the heli off of the landing pad, speaking to each other in a language I wasn’t familiar with. It sounded Swedish. I turned my attention to the file in my hands, gripping it tightly as the wind threatened to snatch it from me.

KORTAC

Majka/Ridgeback

CONTRACTUAL AGREEMENT

I signed, looking out at the clouds. Another initiation briefing, another ice-breaker, another couple of months of hell. I mentally prepared myself for the unwelcoming stares and the countless cold shoulders I would bump into trying to rub elbows with this new group. I wasn’t sure if I would ever find a place to land, or if I would keep hopping across teams like rocks in a river, until I was swallowed by the water and carried away. Hopefully that happens sooner rather than later.

-----

I stood in the corner of the dimly lit room, settled in the shadows behind Ridgeback’s desk. He sat there, scribbling his signature on my document. I noticed how often he muttered to himself as he worked, his brow consistently furrowed, as if everything he read was something troubling. Eventually, he flipped through the pages once more, before grunting in approval. “Just about finished here, I’ll just need one more signature from you. Then you’re officially a KorTac sergeant.”

Like hell I am.

He held out his pen in my direction. I took it, scribbling my signature at the bottom of the page. It was sloppy. He scoffed. “You ain’t gonna give it a once-over?” he asked.

“No sir, I already know what’s in my contract.” I replied dryly. Five years, stealth expert, marksman, sniper-as-needed, subject to termination at director’s discretion.

He smirked at my expression. “I have a feeling you’ll fit right in with the rest of us.”

I doubt it. “We’ll see, sir.”

After signing my contract, Ridgeback collect the papers and we shuffled out of his office. He made his way down the hall as I trailed behind. The compound that KorTac was based at was surprisingly the most decent-looking out of the previous compounds I had been at. From what I had bothered to look at in the file, they were pretty well off; they carried out missions for different eastern governments as easily as one would check something off their to do list. And they were paid handsomely. Something I had to look forward to. Maybe something that would coerce me into putting in an effort to stay with the team.

Ridgeback was one of their leaders, and was a sinister looking thing. His eyes were always filled with suspicion, his body was hulking and tense… He looked like he was either ready for me to stab him in the back, or that he was getting ready to do that to me himself. His steps echoed through the halls rhythmically, while mine were nearly inaudible.

Despite my hard outer-shell, I was on edge. Every time I was signed to a new team, there were jabs, insults, threats, and sometimes petty attempts to trip me up – mentally and physically. I had no reason to think that this compound would be any different. If I could, I would have grown spikes from my skin, keeping everyone and everything at a distance.

We entered a small room with a table, some chairs, and a rug. How much do the governments pay them to afford such a luxury? Several people stood throughout the room, mostly against the far wall. Ridgeback slapped his papers on the table, spreading them to his liking, while I pressed myself against the wall behind him. Just a few minutes of this, then I can leave. I prayed that the meeting would go by quickly so I could go to my room. I felt like a dog, snarling and hunched as I faced the pack of wolves, who stared at me dangerously. You’re in the wrong group.

Ridgeback cleared his throat. “I hope you all looked over the files this morning.”

No answer.

“As usual, I see…” he sighed. “We have a new team member. I’d like you to please welcome ‘Bonnie’.” He stepped aside and gestured to me with a tilt of his head.

I met everyone in the eyes with an ice-cold gaze. I wanted it to be known: Leave me alone. I’ll do my job, you do yours. Otherwise, fuck off.

A few stares, some rolling eyes, some groans, and the occasional indifferent glance. I was used to it: no one wanted me here. Give it a few months and I would be sold off to the next group. My skills couldn’t make up for the lack of chemistry with the team – I would be wasting no efforts to change that.

“What does she bring to the table?” one man asked.

“Better be a sandwich.” Someone answered, earning a few laughs.

“Chlamydia.” Another said. More laughter. A few glares towards the speaker.

I continued to stare at the wall behind them, unamused.

“I expect you to treat her with respect.” Ridgeback continued, purposefully directing his words towards certain people in the room. “We’ve needed another marksman for a while now, and she just so happens to bring other skills with her. She’s a decorated sergeant major that specializes in stealth extractions and attacks. We need her. You all know that, seeing as how these last few months you all have been lacking.”

More silence. Some people shifted uncomfortably.

“So please accept her as one of our own, because she’s here for a while.”

I groaned internally. We’ll see.

Ridgeback moved on to talk about other things. An upcoming hostage-rescue mission set to take place two weeks from now. I remained against the wall, listening close to the details: I would be one of the first people to strike, alongside Fender, O’Connor, Konig, and Horangi. Fender and O’Connor would work together on a checkpoint, while Konig, Horangi, and I would be alone to take out the other three. Zero, Roze, Juno, and Oni would be retrieving and extracting the hostage package, with Castillo and O’Connor covering them as snipers – once O’Connor and Fender had cleared their checkpoint. Mine wasn’t too far away from them, so I would be backup as needed.

Simple enough.

After the briefing, we were dismissed, and I trudged out of the room with everyone else. I broke off from the crowd and walked briskly down the hall. I heard a few disgruntled voices as I pushed past the bodies.

“Gone so soon?” a woman’s voice called out. I didn’t bother to turn around.

“Got shit I need to do.” I replied.

“Fair – we’ll be in the commons later, you should swing by. I’d be rude if you didn’t introduce yourself.”

I ignored her and continued down the hall. I pulled my keycard out of my pocket – this compound was nice. Most bases didn’t even have the luxury of locked doors, let alone private barrack rooms. I reached my door and hurriedly tapped the card on the lock, stepping inside and locking myself in.

I let out a tired sigh, leaning back against the door. I didn’t feel anxious, yet my shoulders couldn’t have been more tense. Having to adjust to a new team for the fifth time… the weight of it finally settled on my mind, and I groaned. Maybe I should just quit. Being a civilian would be boring, but at least it’s a consistent life.

My bags were still piled on the floor near my bed. I had the convenience of an in-unit shower and bathroom, as well as a desk and a short dresser. I grabbed one of the bags, dropping it onto my bed and rummaging through it. I pulled out a pair of cargo pants and a compression shirt – I desperately needed to change, as my current clothes were still covered in dust and dirt from the helicopter ride.

I quickly took a shower, leaving my hair in a braid and focusing on washing the dirt from my body. I dried off and pulled on the new set of clothes. I looked at myself in the mirror – my eyes had dark bags under them, and my mouth had a slight downturn in the corners. Something that had become permanent over the last year.

I walked back into my room. My bag was still on the bed, clothes strewn about, along with a couple of books and files. I sighed, pushing them all to the side and flopping down on the mattress. Damn, I might actually try to stay this time… I thought, sinking into the pillows. I closed my eyes, wondering if I would even go to the common area tonight. They’d be fine if I wasn’t there.

Suddenly, I heard a soft knock on my door. I tilted my head up, staring daggers into the door, hoping whoever it was would just go away. I’d had my fill of strangers for the day. I dropped my head back down onto the pillows. Another, sharper knock thrummed against the door.

“Busy.” I stated loudly.

“No you’re not.” An accented voice spoke through the door.

I scoffed, rolling out of bed and making my way to the door. Who the fuck-

I opened it annoyedly; my eyes were met with someone’s chest under their compression shirt. I looked upwards until I finally found their eyes, which were the only things visible under his sniper hood. I cocked my head to the side. “Yes?”

The man cleared his throat. “Bonnie?” he asked. There was a sense of professionalism in his voice, with an undertone of… nervousness? I couldn’t quite place it.

“That’d be me.” I said curtly. Unintentionally, my demeanor became cold and unwelcoming, as I had forced it to over the years when I had to interact with anyone. Alone, I was myself. Around other people, no one had the opportunity to know what I was like. I refused to let them.

“Konig.” He reached his hand down in front of me. I grasped it firmly and shook it, surprised at how strong his hold was.

“Cool.” I said.

“I’m your Colonel.” He spoke, and I noticed his Austrian accent.

“Cool.” I repeated.

“Since we’ll be working together,” he started, taking a step back so I didn’t have to crane my neck so hard to look at him, “I figured a proper introduction was in order.” He peered over my shoulder, glancing at the clothes strewn about my bed. I caught a flicker of annoyance in his glance, before he looked back at me. “What do you say we talk over dinner? You’ll get a chance to meet the rest of the team, and figure out how we work.”

“Actually, we won’t be working together.” I stated, crossing my arms over my chest. Konig looked confused. I continued: “Ridgeback said you’ll have your own checkpoint to clear, and I’ll have mine. I don’t need to ‘figure anything out’. I know how to do my job, thank you very much.”

Konig’s eyes narrowed in disgust. I saw his hands clenching into fists. “You’re a part of a team. You need to work with them, you know.”

“I don’t need anything.” I snapped. “Tell me what to do and I’ll get it done. That’s what I do.”

Konig huffed in frustration. He gave me one last glare before muttering something in German and storming off. I sneered behind his back, then closed my door behind me.

I started to curse at myself – I was given the perfect opportunity to bond with the team, and I had squashed it like a bug. But I told myself what I always did. It wouldn’t have worked out anyways. Just wait until after the first mission, you’ll be sold of to the next director that deems you useful. It’s only a matter of time – no use trying to find a sense of home here. I walked back over to my bed, dropping on it with a scowl.

My roots were hanging in the air, desperate to grab hold of something, anything – just to ground myself. My leaves were starting to fall off and float away, and my branches were tired. I was so tired. I wished I was back with the 141. I wished I had said something to Soap before I left. I should have begged Price to let me stay. I should have tried to talk it out with Ghost from the night that it first fell apart.

I groaned, cradling my head in my hands. I’m not going to the common area tonight.

-----

Taglist: @igotmajordaddyissues

#konig cod #konig x reader #call of duty #ghost cod #ghost x reader #ghost x reader smut #konig smut #cod #cod mw2 #cod x reader #konig x reader smut #simon riley x reader #simon riley #simon riley smut #konig #ghost smut #simon ghost riley smut #simon ghost riley x reader

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rorywritesjunk · 4 months

Text

The stars in their courses will run and bring their hearts earthward to hear her.

Buggy brings his son in to the bakery to get a treat for his birthday. You like decorating cakes. Rating: PG-13ish. Warning: Adorable kid decides he wants to be a baker. Worried Buggy. Friendly baker. A/N: This chapter is the official start of these two. No name for the Baker yet. I can't be stopped. This story's first few chapters will take place over like, a weekend and then fast forward a bit I feel.

Title comes from "Girl in the Garden" by S.J. Tucker. Chapter 1 + Chapter 2 + Chapter 3 + Chapter 4 + Chapter 5 + Chapter 6

Chapter 2

You left the ship after breakfast. You needed to get to work, hoping your associate was already there getting ready. Hopefully she didn't notice you were in yesterday's clothing. You didn't have time to go home and change. And when she saw you, taking in your appearance, she just smirked as she filled the case with fresh goods.

“Fun night?”

“Shush.”

After throwing your apron on, you went to the kitchen to start getting pans and tins ready for your baked goods. You weren't incredibly late but just enough you felt behind on everything already. You started making some muffins first, greasing the tin with butter to keep them from sticking. Your associate was at the counter helping some customers while you stayed in the back.

Thankfully it was a quiet morning, even through the lunch rush. You leaned on the counter as your last customer left, giving the two of you time to breath.

“So, is it real?”

“Is what real?” You asked as you straightened up, frowning at her. She smirked as she went to make herself a cup of tea.

“You know what I mean. You were with that pirate, weren't you?”

“I was.” You shrugged. “And that's all I'm going to say about it.”

“Oh, come on! I'm just curious!”

You just shook your head as you started to wipe down the counter. She pouted and went back to you. “You're no fun.”

“I just don't want to talk about other people in a way that could be malicious.” You retorted. “Now, can you go do some prep work for tomorrow? I'll work the front.”

Your associate grumbled and did as she was asked, heading to the back. You shook your head and sighed, waiting for the next bout of customers. Maybe it would be a slow day, going by how the last few hours were. That wouldn't necessarily be a bad thing. You were tired from the night before and wanted to take it easy.

The door chime alerted you to someone coming in, but when you looked up you frowned. There wasn't anyone there, but when you looked down you were surprised to see Darby walking up to the counter. Without his dad. Oh no.

“Hey, sweetie!” You greeted as you came around the counter to greet him. “What are you doing here? Where's daddy?”

Darby shrugged. “Working.”

“Oh, does he know you're here?” You asked. Darby shrugged again. “Umm, okay. Is he on the ship?”

“Yea! He's not here.” Darby told you. This wasn't good. You sighed softly and smiled at him.

“Well, let's head back to the ship, okay? He's going to be missing you.”

“Can I help you here?” Darby asked. And it was really sweet and innocent of him to ask, but you had a feeling that when his dad realized he was missing then there would be hell brought down upon the town. You crouched down so you were eye level with him.

“Okay, let's go ask daddy first and see if he allows it.” You told him. “I'm more than happy to have you as my assistant but we gotta ask first.”

Darby frowned at that but nodded. No doubt Buggy would agree to it but he didn't think to ask. You straightened up and called back to your associate, telling her you'd be back, before you held your hand out to Darby, letting him take it before you headed out of the bakery. It would be better to get him back sooner rather than later.

And no sooner did you start walking that you could hear Darby’s name being shouted near the docks.

“Hey, I think the crew is missing you.” You told him as he led you to the ship. “We should go find daddy, Darby, that way we can ask him.”

“Okay!” He pulled you up to the ship. There were several of the freaks there, several looking down into the water while one shouted back to the ship that the kid was found. When they tried to take Darby's hand to lead him up to the deck, the kid recoiled and grabbed your apron.

“Uhh, I'll take him up there, it's okay.” You said, patting the kid on the head. “Can I carry you, Darby?”

He nodded, wrapping himself around you once he was in your arms. You wondered if this was a regular occurrence, and was he going to be punished? Buggy didn't seem like the type to punish his kid, you saw the way he looked at his son. This kid was his entire world. You held him tight as you walked up the ramp to the deck, pausing when you saw Buggy. He was screaming at someone, red in the face as he pointed out towards the town.

“He was under your watch and you lost my kid!” Buggy roared. “How could you let that happen?! He's three!”

“I-I just looked away for a minute, Captain Buggy!”

“Maybe I should gouge your eyes out so this doesn't happen again!”

Well, this was escalating, so you cleared your throat and set Darby on the ground. He immediately ran over to Buggy, who's demeanor changed the moment he saw that his son was safe. He glared at the freak who ran off before Buggy focused on his son, picking him up in his arms and hugging him.

“Sweetheart, where were you? You can't disappear off the ship like that.” Buggy was calm and quiet, opposite of how he was moments ago. Darby shrugged and pointed over to you; you just gave them a friendly wave. “Did you go all the way to the bakery on your own?”

“He found his way to me because he wanted to be my assistant for the day.” You told him. “I suggested we come ask you first. He's a smart boy, getting all the way to the bakery on his own.”

“Darby…” Buggy rubbed his face, sighing heavily. “You can't just take off like that.”

“Daddy, I wanna bake!”

“We have a kitchen on the ship!” Buggy replied, shaking his head. “No running off, you scared daddy, okay?”

You decided to leave, taking a step back before turning to head down the ramp but a hand on your shoulder stopped you. Right, his body did… things. You tried to shoo the hand away before looking back at the captain.

“No, you're not done here.” Buggy said. “I need to talk to you.”

Aw, shit, what did you do? He set his son down and marched over to you and you took a step back. Was he mad at you for some reason? Did he think you wanted to be involved in this? He stopped in front of you and crossed his arms, sighing before he looked away.

“Thank you.” He mumbled. “For bringing him back safely.”

“Uh… you're welcome? I figured you would be worried.” You chuckled nervously. “I can see how much you love your son. I wish all parents were like that.”

His gaze softened and he glanced at you before he looked at Darby. His son had followed him and was at his side, holding onto the hem of his jacket with one hand while the other went up to his mouth and he started sucking his thumb. Okay, the kid certainly knew how to be cute.

“Well, I need to head back to work.” You said before crouching down in front of Darby. “And I am more than happy for you to stop by, but make sure daddy is okay with it, sweetie. We don't want him getting worried.”

Darby nodded, turning to hide his face, suddenly feeling shy. You smiled and stood back up, looking at Buggy. “I don't mind if he comes by, y’know, as long as you're okay with it.”

“Yea, well, we’re leaving in a few days, so I don't…want him getting attached.” Buggy said with a shrug.

“Oh! Well, I wouldn't want him getting his little heart broken.” You said. “But I need to head back to the bakery.”

Buggy just nodded. You smiled at Darby, giving him a wave. “I'll see you around, Darby! Next time you guys come by you should come see me, okay?”

He looked up and pulled away from Buggy, holding his arms out for you. It was hard not to melt at how cute this kid was and you picked him up, giving him a hug and a kiss on the cheek. He wrapped his little arms around you and hugged you.

“He isn't normally fond of strangers.” Buggy commented as he watched you two. “He doesn't even like some of the crew.”

“Aw, you're just saying that so I feel special.” You chuckled as you rubbed Darby's back gently as held him. “Then again, he didn't leave my side at his birthday party.”

“See? He likes you.” Buggy shrugged. “So you should feel special.”

“Okay, well, I need to head back.” You said as Buggy tried to take Darby back but the kid wouldn't let go.

“You keep saying that, and yet I don't see much effort being made.” Buggy said with a smirk as he tickled Darby’s sides, getting the kid to squeal and loosen his grip. He managed to get the kid out of your arms after that. “He really likes you.”

“Well, he's sweet. Probably one of the best behaved kids I've ever met.” You said, smiling at the proud look on Buggy’s face. For a kid living in a pirate ship, he seemed to be doing fine. You weren't sure how common it was for pirates to have families, muchless on a ship. A part of you always wanted kids, but as you got older and settled into your career, it just never happened. Now you made sure to shower attention on the kids that came into the bakery, making sure they had a great time in there.

“What are you doing tonight?” Buggy suddenly asked. “Would… you like to stop by again?”

“And do what?” You asked.

“I don't… know.” He shrugged. “Cabaji can watch Darby, that's one of the few people my kid likes.”

You frowned. “Captain, are you asking me on a date?”

“If I said yes, what are you going to say?” Buggy asked as he shifted Darby in his arms. The little boy reached for you again. You raised an eyebrow and took Darby back from him, chuckling softly at passing the kid around like some kind of game.

“If it's a date where I'm not expected to do anything but show up looking nice then yes, I will go on a date with you.” You said as Darby rested his head on your shoulder. “You do this with all the bakers you meet in towns, Captain Buggy?”

“You're the first baker I've met that I liked.” He grinned. “But I try not to make a habit out of it.”

“Don't want to get attached now, so we?” You teased. “I can come back once the bakery is closed for the day.” You rubbed the little boy’s back as he settled in your arms. “I can’t wait, Captain.”

#buggy the clown #buggy x reader #buggy the clown x reader #buggy x you #buggy the clown x you #opla buggy the clown #opla buggy the clown x reader #opla buggy x reader #opla buggy the clown x you #opla buggy x you #buggy the clown x oc #buggy x oc #opla buggy the clown x oc #opla buggy x oc

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simpscripts · 1 year

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Say My Name ( Bernard the elf x Reader)

Part 1 of Naughty or nice series, Smut next chapter, 18 +, Nsfw, Brat reader, afab reader, she/her reader pronouns

Summary: You decide to skip out on work and mess with your favorite head elf.

The snowy village was peaceful as you sat outside the small cocoa cafe waiting for your drink. You loved this blissful moment in the last moments of November before the holiday season swept everyone into a frenzy. From your spot you can see the front of the workshop, plenty of elves coming and going with a few loitering outside in groups planning their game of tinsel football. A few shops also had some elves bringing out their big Christmas decorations out early to start prepping. It was calm and happy, no stress yet with all the hope and excitement of the month to come. This moment was special and warmed your heart. A moment you doubted the others even noticing it happening every year like clockwork.

The calm was a nice ritual but is only one reason why you snuck out of your office. You knew here soon it would be too busy for you or any other elf to be anything less than perfect at your jobs. So one last opportunity to hopefully mess around with the very busy head elf you loved to tease was the top priority right now.

You take in the calm while you can though, knowing sooner rather than later he will come find you. The waitress comes by delivering your cocoa and you take a moment to admire the whipped cream and sprinkled mug before taking a sip. The cocoa warmed your veins, sugar giving you the energy you’ll need here shortly. Then you heard his voice clear as a bell from across the square.

“Not now, Curtis!”

Looking up you spot him charging down the steps of the workshop, head flicking frantically side to side as Curtis ran alongside him, desperately trying to keep up. Curtis spots you first and freezes to watch this play out, quickly giving up whatever purpose he needed Bernard for. You watch with your head resting on your palm until you see the head elf himself freeze as he spun around and catches your gaze from across the way. You reach your other hand up to give a simple wave and a cheeky grin, which is all he needed to push himself out of his trance as he continues his path over to you.

“You’re supposed to be working, not drinking coffee, does Santa pay you to drink coffee?” He says sarcastically after he stopped his march and crossed his arms.

“Oh, hey Bartholomew.” You toss to the side without taking your eyes away from the beautiful whipped cream towered mug in front of you.

“Bernard.” He spit out with a curt click of his teeth. “You have several reports I have yet to see on my desk, and you didn’t request a break. So you need to stop drinking your coffee and Get. To. Work.”

You smirked to yourself, taking a short sip of your mug letting the tall tower of whip cream coat your upper lip and skin. You loved riling him up, and it was so easy to do with him. His eyes scrunched up, his voice cracked with the volume he reached sometimes, and his cheeks became flushed the angrier he got. You had a tiny tree you decorated in his honor on your work desk with each little bobble a different shade of red for each stage of his anger.

“Don’t get your stockings in a twist there Bernie.” You smiled before turning to face him. Your chest always bubbled in excitement when you see him in his usual grumpy stance with hands on his hips. Maybe it was the look in his eyes, or you wanted a new red ornament to adorn your tree to commemorate another special memory between the two of you, but you knew you were going to try to push him to his limits today.

“And you do know it’s hot chocolate not coffee right? You should really get those old eyes of yours checked out.” You finished with licking up the whip cream before letting your tongue drag slowly back inside your mouth.

Your cheeks burned with happiness watching his eyes narrow in on your action, his face flaring a shade darker, and chest rising with deep breaths that flared his nostrils. Your whole body already wanted to celebrate but you had to keep it cool to push him to his breaking point. So much restless energy flowed through you already that you have to push it all down to wiggling your toes excitedly inside your plush boots.

“My name is Bernard, we have known each other for centuries, and we are the exact same age.” He grinds out once more, voice raising in pitch. “You will give me the production and quality reports I need by the end of today or else Y/N.”

“Or else what, Baxter?” You beamed up at him, realizing that he has inched closer to you and now towers over your sitting form.

“For the love of snowballs its Bernard! You need to get back to work, respect your superior elf by calling me my correct name, or I will bring you straight to Santa and let him deal with you.” He starts leaning down to get in your space.

You watched as the light snowfall collected on his hat, tips of his ears, and nose. Your own nose tickled at the soft minty breath that fanned across your face as he spoke, it warmed your heart a bit more knowing he indulged in some candy canes in secret today. You have caught him in the past hiding around corners to have his candy breaks, scrambling to hide the evidence whenever you jumped out.

Your breath always hitched a bit whenever he heated up like this and you craved it. This was still just a small altercation and you couldn’t wait to push and push until he popped like a jack in the box.

“Make me” You quickly stuck a finger into the mug and scooped a bit of the whipped cream before smashing it into his nose and dragging the cream covered digit down his lips, chin, and neck. “Barney.”

“For Frosty’s sake!” He snaps before roughly grabbing your waist and with a surprising amount of strength that makes you yelp, he pulls you over his shoulder.

“Jeez calm down Blaine, and theres really no need to drag Frosty into this, the poor snowball has been through enough.” You chirp as he bounces you along through town towards the workshop. Despite all the fun you’re having, you still take the opportunity to hide in his curly hair to avoid the stares of all the other elves. The younger ones were drawing more attention to you with their snickers and ooo’s. Most are acclimated to this sort of reaction when the two of you are involved together but with the war path he carves through the snow paved town they knew you were being nothing short of naughty.

“Isn’t Santa supposed to be gone taking Ms. Claus on a trip before the holiday season?” You mutter out, anything to distract yourself from the knot in your stomach. Every part of your skin tingled like frost in the way his arm wrapped around your waist, fingers kneading into your stomach. His other hand clung to one of your legs just above the knee to keep you from fleeing or kicking.

“He got back this morning and has had plenty of time to unpack. Now he can deal with you.” He grounds out, voice evident of his growing frustration.

“Jolly old Nick loves me Bailey! That big old softy can’t even hammer a toy correctly in fear of breaking it.” You yelp out an oof as he jostles you around roughly at yet another nickname you’ve presented.

“Luckily as top elf I can and will break it as long as I have his expressed permission to do so.” His hand flexes around your leg once more, sliding a bit more up the leg as he tries to get a better grip with your wiggling.

Your thighs instinctively clenched and your gut was pulsing from the way he grabbed onto you. You were faced once again to acknowledge the slight crush you’ve been harboring for centuries. Your mind is running laps in this close moment, nose being overwhelmed with his slight cinnamon scent as he pulls you through the workshop. You no longer care about the stares as your mind drifts off to fantasize and think about the surprisingly strong elf carrying you.

You’re more than guilty for stirring up trouble for him just to have the chance to speak to him. Although you report to him its usually just a brief moment of contact before he zooms off to be the strict, serious, and hardworking head elf he takes prides in being. The more you teased him, skipped out on work, and lead him on a series of chases meant the more time you got to spend with him.

You prided yourself a bit on helping him earn his strict reputation, most of the elves being scared straight just by seeing his most strict moments when he reprimanded you. He wasn’t just a hard gumball all the time though. He only gets so worked up because he cares, more than any elf you ever met, about Christmas. His bossiness just came with a deep need of it all to go right but you could always see the care behind his actions despite his angry tones and fell more in love every time.

Even with your bratty elf behavior he always gave you a beautifully wrapped gift every year. Always hand made and always perfect. Whatever current hobby you indulge in, books you are reading, or food you craved he always got something completely perfect for you. You hoped it was a small sign he didn’t truly harbor any frosty feelings towards you.

Your mind started twisting from nice to naughty fairly quick the more his hands squeezed. Now most of your wiggling was to shake away the tingling need begging for attention which only caused him to squeeze more.

Suddenly he pulled you back to the ground right in front of ‘the big mans’ ornate wooden door. Your heart clenched as his hands pulled away from your hips, your dreaming hazed state hoping it wasn’t just you imagining his fingers lingering for a moment. You didn’t have to endure the madness of his skin leaving yours though, as he quickly wraps his hand around your wrist and leans down to stare you in your eyes.

“You have been acting up nearly every day the past month so you are going to go in there and tell him everything you have done.” He clipped through some heavy huffs most likely from caring you the whole way.

“You don’t have to talk to me like I’m 200 and why do I have to be the one to tell him?”

“Because I’m head elf and my seniority means you have to listen to everything I tell you to do.” The more he bosses you around the more your mind clouds with dirty thoughts of listening to some different commands from him.

Without giving him a response you knock on the door and walk in with the call of puppets screaming to enter. You quickly bounce in as nice as sugar, twirling the bells adorning your skirt, and toss a wave towards Santa. Bernard marches in and stands tall right in front of Santa’s desk, ready to exert his rank. You happily slide up next to him and give him a small jab of your elbow.

“Uh oh.” The puppets immediately call seeing you and Bernard enter, causing Santa to laugh brightly.

“Oh Ho Ho, its never a good sign that both of you are here.” Santa chuckled, sparing a glance at Bernard and raising his eyebrows at the state the elf was in. “So what squabble brings the two of you here again?”

“I’ve been nothing but Jolly to him I swear Santa.” You smile brightly before leaning in. “And can I just say that you look positively glowing with that tan. We should put you at the top of the tree this year.”

“Rednoser.” Bernards quickly coughs out before looking to the side and up.

“Carol killer.” You snip back at him just as quickly under your breath.

“Blizzard box” He shoots back.

“Tinsel tool!” You raise your voice as you both continue slinging insults.

“Toy Twat!” He pivots his view from Santa to stare you down.

“Stocking sniffer!”

Both of you start raising your voices in unison, throwing insults and yelling every thought that can cram its way out of your throats. The volume in the room triples as the puppets start mimicking your fighting and start smacking each other with rolling pins.

“Hey stop it, everyone stop right now!” Santa’s voice cuts through, lacking any real bite but filled with exasperation. Every one takes a moment to collect themselves as Santa stares at both of you while rubbing a hand through his beard.

“Oh boy, those were some new ones. I really hope the younger elves don’t hear those.” Santa hums to himself quietly for a bit in contemplation before sighing and leaning back in his chair.

You shoot a quick glance at Bernard a shoot him a smirk as Santa makes a series of contemplating noises as he rubs his temples.

“Bernard do I really have to deal with this, I just got back and haven’t even taken my boots off, and I need to check on Mrs. Clause.” Santa huffs out in a plea.

“Of course not Santa, I just need your permission to deal with her.” Bernard easily slips back into his head boy pose.

“Alright but it’s officially Christmas season and I really need you both to work together so please go easy on her. Oh and go somewhere private, I don’t need the rest of the elves distracted by your boxing match or to hear your colorful language.” He ends with a chuckle.

“Of course, thank you very much Santa.” Bernard quickly nods and grabs your hand before pulling you out with him.

“And Y/N don’t try to shove a snowball down his pants again!” Santa calls out quickly.

“No promises!” You shout back before stumbling to keep up with Bernards pace.

The march to presumably his office is quiet besides the thud of shoes on the floor as he pulls you down hallways. His silent anger was frightening you just a bit so you decided to poke the bear a bit more for a reaction that would end this silence.

“Brad you really need to slow down!”

His grip on your hand tightens but for now he keeps quiet.

“You heard Kringle, you should be nice to me. I think your heart may be two sizes too small Ben.”

Again no response and the silence was starting to gnaw at you. You were desperate to be acknowledged by him, anything was better than silence.

“Bill? Did you hear me?” Nothing, the fear and guilt start climbing your throat.

“Bob?” Your hands are getting sweaty.

“Benedict!” You finally scream while taking note of how fast your approaching his office door.

“Son of a nutcracker!” He finally screams out, yanking open his door and pulling you in quickly.

“You know my name Y/N! You snarky sarcastic sadistic snowflake! We have know each other over 1,000 years and you still don’t call me, your superior, by my proper name!”

You relished in a brief moment of happiness when he spoke again but it quickly corrupted to a warmth spreading through you again as he paced in front of you. Every time he spared a glance in between each turn of pace his eyes bore into your own, melting away your resolve and making your legs shift under his gaze.

As he slowed his pacing down he leaned back against the wall, breathing deeply as he glared at you. Every muscle in his body looked tense as he awaited whatever snarky comment you were constructing in your mind. Usually your quick wit would take over but your eyes stayed glued to his teeth gnawing on his lip. You sat back against his desk unable to speak, pushing yourself up to sit on the flat surface.

After a few moments he pushed off the wall and approached you, step by step. Finally his legs stopped a breath away from your knees, so close the fabric of his pants brushed past your skin as he shifted his weight back and forth. He breaths out a huff, lowering his eyes to be at level with your own, and boxes you in with his hands resting at either side of your thighs.

Your lungs ceased working, time froze as you waited for him to talk. You’re left with endless amount of time focusing on how cold the room suddenly felt, goosebumps pricking your skin and air bubbles clogging the back of your throat. Your pelvic floor was clenching and it caused a pressure too sharp and needy for you to handle, and you’re quickly trying to unclench and relax.

“What do I have to do to get you to respect me?” His voice came out low, frustrated, and coarse.

Before you knew you even opened your mouth, the words tumbled from your lips. “Make me.”

#bernard the elf #bernard the elf x reader #bernard x reader #fanfiction writer #x reader #the santa clause #reader insert #fanfictions #fanfiction #Smut #I cant tell if love this or want to set it on fire #i hope you all enjoy #part 2 will come soon #part 1 #smut in part 2 #I proof read but not enough #mistakes probable

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hollyhomburg · 1 year

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Before I Leave You (Pt. 53)

(Sneak Peek)(Omegaverse au, Mafia au, Bts x Reader)

Summary: A snippet of the future- a flash forward- in which you and jimin reach an...agreement.

Tags: pleasure dom Jimin, pillow princess m/c, oral (f. receiving), fingering, knotting, talks of gender and sex, Talks of killing people, talking ill of the dead, assassin! jimin, implied autistic! jimin, Flash Forwards, intentionally vague moments

W/c: 7.770

A/n: please be patient with me regarding the rut chapter ie the chapter after this one! i’m visiting my brother next week in LA so!!! things will take some time. hopefully this little jimin nugget will tide you over. although this isn’t the most unique sex chapter i do really like it. in the meantime! recommend me some stuff to do in la! i’m hoping it’s going to be a restful trip but ngl...it’s not looking great.... i don’t like planning things that other people are going to potentially not enjoy 😠 i’m meant to be a passenger princess threw and threw

Previous Chapter - Masterlist

Chapter 53: I’d do Worse (Sneak Peak)

Jimin promptly takes one of the tubes of paint, a light blue- the same light blue that you ended up painting the upstairs bathroom, and squishes it out onto the canvas below you. Near your hand but not on it.

The breath you were holding rushes out in a single jagged laugh, “Okay, now I’m lost- I thought the whole point of the plastic and drop cloths was not to get paint on them.”

The look he shoots you asks you to suspend your disbelief. Especially once he starts doing that to all the other colors. He continues to drop careful splotches of paint around you. Enough that it would take a lot of concentration to get out of the room without tracking dark blue or pink or yellow or red halfway across the house.

You wonder what exactly Jimin plans to do to you. Paint included. He puts out a spurt of yellow paint on your side and then another.

Surely sooner rather than later, noodle is going to wander in here in search of a pool of sunlight, track his paws or tail through the paint, and leave pawprints everywhere throughout the house. Yoongi will probably complain about them, but you might make him keep them instead of washing them away.

When he’s finished, Jimin turns a yellow tube over in his hands. Back and forth, the cap flashing like a rising and setting small yellow sun. jimin’s voice is low when he speaks, near reverent. “You’re the first woman I was ever with- that I ever knew I was with.”

It’s an admission and an admonishment, one that you and the rest of your pack have been tiptoeing around. Even though Tae’s a woman now- she hadn’t always been- at least not in a way the pack could compensate for. While new lines in the sand are drawn that doesn’t mean the old lines totally fade away. It will take a few more cycles of low and high tide to completely grow used to this.

Jimin fiddles with a small red tube of paint. “I’m a rigid person, I know I am. i don’t like change most of the time and I know, I know things shouldn’t be so planned, I know that’s not the way things usually go but-” You nuzzle close to Jimin, and his words extinguish into a sigh, his hands coming up to your sides, the same place he always likes to hold, between your shoulder blade and your ribcage.

“But you need them to be this way sometimes. Planned? so you can make sure everything’s done right” You press.

He bristles, “If you’re expecting me not to say that I want everything to be perfect when I can make it that way then-”

“You’re such a control freak Minnie.” you say it with a smile, playing your fingers through some of the milky pink white, feeling the tackiness between your fingers.

“You don’t hate it?”

You shrug. “Jin’s that way too sometimes. So no, I guess I don’t hate it. Maybe it’s just because I like- really fucking hate making decisions.”

He grimaces, but Jimin’s eyes dart from your face down to your crossed legs. settling on something. “Do you care if those clothes get dirty?”

“A little- I like these shorts.”

“then you should take them off.” your heart thuds as jimin leans over you, tugging on the strap of your Tanktop with his teeth, lips pressed to the bare skin of your shoulder, dragging them down. He plays at being sexy but decides not to be, settling for leaning his cheek on your shoulder and watching you.

“I had kind of this stupid idea, if you don’t want to do it just say so. This is every shade of pink that we ever painted the house. Tae’s favorite color is pink- and the canvas- i thought it might be nice to have like- some art in her library room- that’s what I meant about making it planned.”

“Are you saying you want to make sex art or something?” Jimin blushes yet again. You should be keeping track of how many times he has and use them for leverage.

“You know gift giving is like, my second love language if that bullshit is to be believed and-”

“-Oh my god you actually do want to make sex art.”

Coming Saturday May 6th at 5pm EST (Time Zone Adjustments Below)

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ineedrickgrimes · 19 days

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Chapter 3: Bonfire

(Y/N Perspective)

Before I know it, it’s nighttime and the boys are starting the bonfire. Lighting it up, all of us grabbing a glass of Gallys special recipe and sitting down with our friends having a laugh. It’s bonfire nights that I love the most for quite obvious reasons. Having a night like this where we can all just chill and relax feels great. I’m sure it feels better for the other boys because it feels like most of my time during the day is down time. I’m doing the same thing every day and few Gladers come to the med-jack hut anyway.

I’m sitting next to the Greenie with Newt on the other side of us, eating dinner. The bonfire illuminating an orange hue around us None of us really say anything for a bit and focusing on our food instead. That’s until Newt speaks up.

“Hell of a first day, Greenie,” Newt looks at the Greenie while he gives a little nod.

“Here,” Newt picks up the glass filled with Gallys special drink and hands it too him. “Put some hair on your chest,” I give Newt a look as to say what are you doing. Gallys drink is very strong, no one know what’s in it and it taste like klunk. But it’s better than nothing. The Greenie looks a bit hesitant at first but grabs the glass and take a big sip, only to spit it out. Me and Newt look at each other as I let a giggle, and he chuckles. It might be a bit mean but still funny.

“Oh, my God, what is that?” the Greenie questions and passes the glass back to Newt.

“I don’t even know,” says Newt.

“Its Gallys recipe, it’s a trade secret,” I say as Newt turns around and looks at Gally wrestling some of the Gladers, just like every other bonfire night. The boys never seem to get bored of it.

“Yeah, well, he’s still an asshole.”

“He saved your life today. Trust me, the Maze is a dangerous place.” Newt says and we all look out at the closed door and listen to the sounds of the grievers.

“We’re trapped here, aren’t we?”

“That’s until we find a way out, hopefully sooner rather than later,” Newt and the Greenie look at me, but I keep my eyes concentrated on the door.

“But” We all turn out heads around, “you see those guys, there, by the fire? Those are the runners. And that guy in the middle there, that’s Minho. He’s the keeper of the runners. Now every morning when those doors open, they run the Maze, mapping it, memorizing it, trying to find a way out.”

“How long have they been looking?” asks the greenie. “Three years,” the shock on the Greenies face is not hard to miss. Every time someone comes up from the box they hear the same things, and most of the time have the same reaction. Coming up in a random box surrounded by a bunch of boys only to find out that their stuck in here, it’s a pretty shit thing to hear.

“And they haven’t found anything?”

“It’s a lot easier said than done, listen” Newt raises his finger in the air, and we all sit there listening to the walls of the maze changing. “Hear that? That’s the Maze changing, it changes every night,” Another shocked look from the Greenie.

“How is that even possible?”

“You can ask the people who put us in here if you ever meet the bastards. Listen, the truth is, the runners are the only ones that really know what’s out there. They’re the strongest and the fastest of us all, and it’s a good things too because if they don’t make it back before those doors close, then they’re stuck out there for the night. And no one has ever survived a night in the Maze,” As per usual this topic of conversation doesn’t sit too right with the Greenies, but this ones special. He seems to be taking it a lot better than most, even after the stunt he pulled today. Walking up the doors of the maze is a ballsy move.

“What happens to them?”

“Well, we call them Grievers. Of course, no one’s ever seen one and lived to tell about it. But they’re out there.”

“Well this has turned depressing hasn’t it,” I say. I decide that this is the best time to maybe catch up with some of the other boys.

“You’re acting as if you don’t hear me say the same thing every month,” Obviously he’s right but maybe I don’t feel like hearing much more, I already know how the Maze and the Glade works.

“Doesn’t mean it isn’t depressing, I’m going to go. I’ll talk to you guys later, yeah?” I say right before I start walking off.

“I have a question for you,” says the Greenie. “What’s Up.” I answer.

“Why are you the only Girl in here, I’ve been keeping an eye out all day for another girl and I’ve yet to spot another one,” I should have seen it coming. I glance at Newt who is also waiting for the answer.

“Uhm, I don’t know why I’m the only girl. I wish I knew though, being the only girl surrounded by boys isn’t my favourite thing ever, but I guess I didn’t really have a choice.”

He nods. Thankfully, he doesn’t have any follow up questions. “Well, I’m going to go, see you guys around,” I say, and they nod their heads goodbye and I walk over to the other boys. I talk to some of them while we watch Gally fight some other boys, then I notice Newt and the Greenie get up.

I watch them as they walk around, and Newt starts pointing out the other boys and what their jobs are. Jeff and Clint walk past the other 2 boys and then Newt points at me, probably explaining that us 3 are med-jacks. They continue talking until one of the boys that Gally was fighting bumps into the Greenie almost making him fall over.

Gally looks at him “What do you say Greenie? Wanna see what you’re made of?” One of the boys start chanting, “Greenie, Greenie,” and the rest of the boys join in.

I stand up and join he circle that the boys are forming. I hate when Gally challenges a Greenie to fighting, but it’s almost impossible not to watch this all go down. I’m still never impressed with Gally’s antics.

“Okay. All right. The rules are simple, Greenie. I try to push you out of the circle. You try and last more than five seconds,” Gally says being a bastard as always. The other boys laugh. “Ready,” Gally pushes the greenie out the circle, but Zart and some other boys push him back in. Gally grabs him and throw him onto the ground. “Come on, Greenie. We’re not done yet,” says Gally.

“Stop calling me Greenie.”

“Stop calling you that? What do you wanna be called? Shank?” Everyone laughs. “What do you think, boys? Does he look like a shank?” The greenie makes a run towards Gally in an attempt to push him over, but Gally grabs onto him and pushes him back down into the ground. He gets back up.

“You know what? I think I’ve settled on shank.” Gally is nearing the edge at this point to the Greenie makes another attempt to push him out. But Gally grabs onto to him and pushes him back instead. The greenie lets go of Gally and pushes him into the ground. Pretty impressive if I do say so myself. Embarrassing Gally though, maybe not the best idea but what else could he do. I’m looking around the crows and my eyes land on Minho, and even his face shows that he impressed. The Greenie gets back up.

“Not bad for a greenie, huh?” and right as the boy finishes his sentence, Gally kicked his leg which made him fall straight back onto the ground and seems to hit his head pretty hard. All the other boys are cheering.

The greenie whispers something to himself. He gets up “Thomas. Hey. Thomas!” We all look at him pretty confused. “I remember my name. I’m Thomas!” Everyone starts surrounding him and cheering. I stand back a bit and cross my arms with a smile on my face. Me and Newt lock eyes and we smile to each other. I see through the cracks of the boy’s head and see him take another sip of moonshine, this time swallowing it. And then Gally congratulating him.

A loud screeching sound can be heard from the Grievers, and we all look over to the door, as if it’s about to burst through and kill us all. It goes silent again until Thomas speaks up. “What the hell was that.”

“That, my friend, was a Griever. Don’t worry. You’re safe here with us. Nothing gets through those walls,” Gally says.

“All right, guys. Let’s tuck it in for the night. Come on. It was a good night,” says Alby.

I start walking back over to our hammocks to go to bed, and then I feel a tap on my shoulder and turn around to see Newt. “Good night, huh.”

“Yeah, I guess so. But you should tell Gally to stop challenging the Greenies. I know you guys love it but were supposed to be welcoming towards them, not scare them,” I say to Newt.

“Aww come on! It’s just a bit of fun,” Newt says while giving me a smirk. I smile back at him.

“Fun and intimidating are not the same thing, Newt.”

“Don’t worry about, Thomas was fine tonight. Y’know there’s never any real damage.”

“I guess so,” We make it back to homestead and I say goodnight to Newt before heading over to my hammock and getting it in my hammock before falling into a peaceful sleep.

Tags:@honethatty12

Sorry this took me so long to get out, I honestly don’t even know what happened. Also, so thankful that I never have to write the word Greenie ever again. Also not edited sorry for any mistakes

#newt #maze runner #newt maze runner #newt x reader #scorch trials #death cure #tbs #thomas brodie sangster

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thewriterowl · 5 months

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Luke has officially moved to the picturesque town of Din's childhood and is dating the man of his dreams after a rather crazy start. Now, it is time to explore what it means to relax, be in a relationship, and, for the first time in a long while, what it means to have a family.

Story One: Luke does not want to overstay his welcome at the Djarin-manor. He thinks he should look for a new place and get to moving out sooner than later. His new boyfriend, and said boyfriend’s family, don’t seem to be quite on board with this thinking.

And we are back in the Proposal-AU! Just for a bit though!

I wanted to add a little one-shot collection of fluff to my roaster. I've been dealing with a lot of mental blockage and burn-out with my writing and it is a massive worry I'll be able to get something up each weekend. I'm trying to learn breaks are ok but, well, with how my brain works that just causes more anxiety now--so I thought if I had a fic of romantic angst (Ghosts), of romantic fluff (Timely Business), smut (Sinful and Fruitful), an original novel, and whatever the hell the whump of Moonblight is I can have enough things to cycle through for the updates and chapters won't feel as strained or stressed.

Moonblight and Ghosts are my first focus, but this is just going to be something that will be nice to do here and there as a break that isn't pure smut. It will probably only be about three stories too, so just a little treat.

I hope none were too disappointed! I do hope to have Ghosts or Moonblight updated next weekend! Hopefully this can still be enjoyed :)

Thank you all for the amazing year of support! I'll be seeing you all in 2024!!

#star wars #the mandalorian #dinluke #din djarin #luke skywalker #the proposal #untimely business #fluff

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hollandorks · 2 years

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shadows in the night

battinson!bruce wayne x f!reader

chapter twenty-one

summary: more than a year after the events of middle of the night, y/n and Bruce are happily engaged and working to lower the amount of crime in Gotham. However, a new killer calling himself the Riddler has other plans for their happiness…set during the events of the movie, mostly canonical, some changes made to fit the story

a/n: After this, there’s only one more chapter and then the epilogue! Those two are almost pure fluff, so get ready for some cavities. I also am (hopefully) going to do a fun honeymoon oneshot sometime in the future for these two! So basically, there’s tons of fluff ahead after this chapter. Tons.

Series Masterlist

word count: 5814

As the sun slipped and spilled over the horizon, y/n took her first deep breath in days.

They had done it.

True to his word, Bruce came up to the roof as morning settled fully over Gotham. They had found every survivor they could until the water had gotten too high, and even then he had made sure to help every single straggler up onto the roof. The first helicopters were on their way to evacuate the most severely injured. The Riddler’s masked followers had been rounded up, too, and taken away in police boats.

Y/n struggled to her feet as soon as she heard the whispers of the quiet crowd around her.

“Batman,” they said, the name just a breath of wind passed from person to person. They were reverent as they whispered and turned towards him. No longer afraid, but awed.

He was dirty, covered in mud and various other things she didn’t want to think about. But he was alive. His eyes were searching the crowd as Gordon spoke softly to him. Bella Reál made her way over to him as y/n watched.

“Hey, kid,” Gordon said warmly as she stepped up to the small group. She felt rather than saw Bruce’s gaze rake over her. She wanted to look at him, more than anything, but with so many attentive witnesses she was scared of slipping even a little. “How’s the head?”

“Oh, it’s fine,” she said breezily, but their new mayor raised an eyebrow.

“Aren’t you supposed to be one of the next ones evacuated?” Bella Reál asked dryly. “I’m pretty sure I heard the paramedic say you needed your head scanned sooner rather than later.”

Y/n glared daggers at the mayor, not caring who she was, as Bruce stiffened next to her. “And I’m pretty sure they said the same thing about you, Mayor Reál. Don’t you need to be checked in case you need surgery?”

They stared at each other, a stalemate. Gordon watched with a faintly amused expression.

The mayor cracked a warm smile and then laughed softly. “You’re a tough one,” she said. “Which I should have known already based on…your history. Fine. We’ll both go on the next one. I need you to act as a liaison with your fiance anyways. I had some ideas about relief packages.”

“Bruce and I would be delighted to help in any way we can,” y/n said, wanting to laugh at the fact that her fiance was, in fact, standing right next to them, a shadowed smudge of dirty kevlar against the brightening sky. “Think you might be able to hook me up with a way to contact him? The Riddler kind of took my phone.”

“Of course,” the mayor said with another genuine smile. “Was he at home?”

“He was…visiting our friend in the hospital. The one injured with the bomb.” Y/n swallowed, then finally looked at Bruce. His blue eyes blazed, even though every line of him screamed with exhaustion. “I was working with Mr. Vengeance here on the case. They’re probably both still at the hospital, if they haven’t been evacuated.”

This way she could lie and say Bruce had left before the flooding–and Alfred would, of course, back up her claims. A nice, neat way to separate Bruce Wayne and Batman’s whereabouts.

“Mayor,” Gordon said softly. “Let’s go organize your way out of here so you can get checked out, yeah?” He gave y/n an odd look as he led the mayor away.

“Are you okay?” she asked as soon as they were out of earshot. She kept her voice low. The crowd was pretending not to watch them, watch him, but she had heard the way they’d whispered his name. He had become famous over the past few hours, no longer someone to fear, but someone to respect.

“Fine,” Bruce said softly. His eyes brimmed with unspoken words. “You?”

“I’ll be okay. I have a hard head. Go home as soon as you can,” she told him, voice soft. “I mean it.”

There was so much more for them to both say. She ached to hold him, to be held by him, to tell him that she was sorry for everything, that she was so glad he was okay.

“You too,” was all he said.

I love you, she said silently, and she knew without a doubt that he was saying it back to her, even as the distant noise of helicopters grew closer and closer.

The mayor was loaded into a rescue basket and drawn up into the helicopter first, then y/n, then a couple more of the seriously but not too seriously injured. Those people had already been evacuated.

They were being flown to a hospital right outside of the city, a privately owned one that hadn’t been flooded due to its location atop a hill.

They were given headsets to wear, and the new mayor immediately started planning with y/n. They needed a way to use her resources as mayor combined with Wayne family funds and y/n’s Gotham Project connections to get help to people who needed it. They brainstormed different packages, triage situations, temporary housing ideas, and funding as they flew.

Y/n was glad to still be able to do something. She didn’t want her city to suffer any more than it had to. And even though she couldn’t be on the ground helping like Bruce was, she could do this, and it would make a difference. A big one, if she had anything to say about it.

Then Bella Reál made a call on a proffered satellite phone, and was able to tell y/n that Alfred had been evacuated to the hospital they were going to, but had been discharged because he was now healed enough to go home. Technically, he should have been in the hospital for a few more days, but the hospital was already spread thin, every inch of space needed. The staff had determined that Alfred was fine enough, and the space he would have taken up would be going to someone who needed it more.

Bella Reál was confused when she couldn’t figure out where “Bruce” had gone over the phone, but shrugged it off as the helicopter descended.

They were all ushered out onto the roof and then downstairs into utter chaos.

There were people everywhere–the hospital was overrun already with those who’d come from the stadium, patients from the hospitals that had flooded, and other stragglers who’d found out that it hadn’t been touched by the rising waters.

Mayor Reál immediately took charge. Y/n watched with awe as she was whisked away to be checked over and continued giving orders all the while. The hospital staff seemed relieved to have someone to look to, someone who could make the hard decisions, and the chaos almost immediately started to die down.

“Y/n!” Her name was a breathless shout.

She whirled, and there was Alfred. He was in a wheelchair, head still bandaged. He started to stand, but she yelled wordlessly at him as she rushed over and he sat back down.

They were both crying as they crashed together.

“He’s okay, he’s okay,” she whispered into his ear as they hugged, which only made Alfred cry harder. She knew that Bruce would be the first thing on his mind, just as it was hers. “We’re okay.”

“My dear girl,” Alfred said, over and over. He stroked her hair, and even though it hurt like a bitch because of her two blows to the head, she leaned into the touch. “My dear girl. Thank God.”

“Ma’am?” said a tentative voice from behind her.

Y/n turned to see one of the nurses who’d escorted Bella Reál away. “Mayor Reál said you had a couple of severe head injuries we needed to look at.”

“Yeah it’s–it’s nothing too serious,” she said, mostly to keep Alfred from worrying too much. “Give me just a second.”

The nurse nodded and stepped away, not going too far. If she listened carefully, she could hear the new mayor continuing to give soft but firm orders from a room nearby.

“Alfred,” y/n said carefully, aware that there were still a lot of listening ears. People knew who she was–whether because of the Riddler’s video or general Wayne family fame, she didn’t know–and they were eavesdropping, patients and staff alike. “Bruce was with you at the hospital earlier when the flooding happened.” Her eyes begged him to go along with the story. “Did he go home?”

Alfred blinked slowly, then jolted slightly. “Forgive an old man’s memory,” he said after a too-long pause. “Yes, I think he did. He should be there now.”

“Good, that’s good. I’m glad he’s okay.” Their conversation sounded false to her ears, but she wanted to do everything she could to keep his identity secret. Mostly because she had a feeling the city would be seeing a lot more of both Bruce and Batman in the coming days as they tried to get past the disaster of the flood. Y/n turned to the nurse. “Can he come with me for all the testing?”

The nurse hesitated. Then she sighed and nodded. “You’ll probably be getting discharged anyways,” she said as she led them down the crowded hallways. Y/n pushed Alfred’s wheelchair despite his protests. He had almost died recently, after all. “Anyone who doesn’t need serious attention, surgery, etcetera is being sent away. We need all the space we can get.”

“What are some things I can send that might help? Funds, machinery, extra pay for staff? Maybe even meals?”

The nurse stopped dead in the middle of the hallway. Y/n barely managed to keep the wheelchair from knocking her over. “You’d do all that?” the nurse said, sounding a bit skeptical.

“Well, it’s technically my fiance’s money, but I know he won’t mind helping where we can. As one of, if not the only, hospital not flooded right now, you guys are going to need all the help you can get.” Y/n shrugged. Better to ask forgiveness than permission, anyways. Though she was certain Bruce wouldn’t mind. Besides, he wasn’t there to ask. Alfred craned his neck and stared up at her with something that looked a lot like pride shining from his lined face. “Mayor Reál and I were already discussing relief packages on the way here, and I think starting with the hospital might be our best bet. Then we can work out how to help people who are discharged, people in the city, that kind of stuff.”

The nurse started walking again, head nodding eagerly. “Yes, that’s–that’s a great idea. I’ll have to talk to someone higher up but–”

“Alfred, you’ll help me set it up?” y/n said as they entered an already crowded exam room.

“Of course,” he said quickly. He reached back and patted her hand.

The next two hours were spent with tests to make sure her brain wasn’t going to leak out of her ears. Or something like that. She was so tired she could barely stand upright. It was only the constant poking and prodding and other interruptions that kept her awake. Bella Reál was given a clean bill of health–or at least hadn’t needed surgery–so she’d stopped by as y/n was being examined in order for them to discuss helping the hospital.

Then the new mayor left to do an emergency press conference.

“I like her,” Alfred said as she left.

Y/n laughed. “Yeah, me too. She’s kind of badass.”

A couple of others in the room with them agreed.

And then y/n was discharged, she and Alfred both getting the okay to go home. They’d made some vague promises to a doctor about Bruce watching over them when they got home. It was mostly true, at the very least. Bruce would be coming home…eventually. And he would definitely check on them both. They just weren’t sure when, exactly.

Alfred, thankfully, had called some of their security to come take them back to the manor. He’d been on a satellite phone nearly the whole time. She had no idea where he’d gotten it from, but he’d taken command of all things Wayne related–her included–with the same ease that the new mayor had taken charge in the hospital. Extra security was put in place, although they’d already had it from the Riddler outing her as an informant, and the manor was secured from all sides.

The ride back to Wayne Manor was short, or maybe y/n fell asleep.

Alfred insisted that he no longer needed help, and led the way in the back door, only limping slightly more than normal as he leaned on his cane.

Something within y/n loosened the moment she stepped inside.

She was home.

It still smelled vaguely like smoke and spray paint, but it was home. She had thought, briefly, that she might never make it back again.

She sagged a little as Alfred began making tea for himself and coffee for her.

“Are you alright?” he asked softly, noticing how she was gripping the edge of the kitchen island with white knuckles.

Y/n nodded and swallowed the tears. “I’m just…really glad to be home.”

Alfred smiled with an expression of understanding. “Me too.”

She quickly started making them both something to eat before Alfred could, then bustled him into the living room and made him prop himself up on the couch. He still had the satellite phone and was protesting being made to rest, but she promised to bring him his laptop so he could start working on relief packages and getting funds where they needed to go–as long as he didn’t leave the couch.

A quick check showed them that the internet and phone lines were still down, but she’d heard the new mayor at the hospital making plans to fix that as soon as possible.

Y/n ate fast, made sure Alfred was comfortable, and then stumbled to her bedroom. She needed a shower. A long one. She was still in her kevlar suit, which was sticking uncomfortably to her skin now that the water had dried inside of it. She was wearing a hoodie, too, unsure when and where she’d gotten it, only knowing she’d been wearing it on the helicopter. It covered the suit, made her look…normal. She frowned as she unzipped it, then shrugged and shed the rest of her clothes.

The hot water was delicious against her skin, but she didn’t linger.

As soon as she was dressed–in one of Bruce’s faded Nirvana shirts and a pair of her comfiest sweatpants–she checked on Alfred. He was dozing lightly.

She hid a smile and wrote him a note for when he woke.

Then she went downstairs to the abandoned subway station.

She didn’t know how long Bruce would be, or how to contact him, or anything. All she knew is that when he showed up, it would be there.

She messed around with the computer that usually held the feed from the contact lenses, but there was nothing. It could have been any number of things that had done it in–explosions, electrical shocks, seawater. All y/n knew was that the screen remained blank no matter what she did.

She curled up in the office chair and rested her head on her knees.

The fear trickled back in. It snuck through her guard like tendrils of shadow. Before she knew it, her heart was pounding and her palms were sweating. She kept checking the feeds for the cameras in the tunnel every couple of minutes. Then the ones around the house, the gate, the perimeter.

Bruce had been fine when she’d left him. Injured, maybe, but still on his feet. And Gordon had been there. Gordon would look after him, send him home when he had pushed himself too far.

But she was still afraid.

For days, entire days now, she had been afraid. The Riddler had targeted Batman and Bruce both. Had targeted her. Targeted their home. Bruce had been blown up and so had Alfred. She had been kidnapped. People had been murdered.

So much had happened in such a short amount of time.

The next thing she knew, she was jolting awake at the sound of an engine. The Batmobile was already coming through the giant doors. She’d somehow missed it roaring through the tunnels and the alerts from the cameras.

She leapt up as Bruce parked.

He left the driver’s side door open as he strode towards her. He was limping somewhat, but she barely noticed. She crashed into him with a small cry. The dirty armor dug into her but she didn’t care, couldn’t care, because he was there and he was alive.

The cowl thunked to the ground and then he was kissing her. He tasted like salt and dirt and blood and Bruce.

The tears came as he touched his forehead to hers.

“I’m sorry,” she sobbed as she clutched at him. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to find him, I was just looking around–”

“I’m sorry I didn’t find you faster,” Bruce said, his voice barely a rasp. “I’m sorry for being angry at you. I thought he’d–that he’d–” He swallowed hard. She was shocked to see that he was crying too, not as much as her, but those were tears on his cheeks. She so rarely saw him cry that it yanked hard on her heartstrings. “I thought you’d think I was still mad at you.”

She shook her head vehemently. “Never. I didn’t mean–I didn’t mean to hurt you. I thought lying would be better, that it would keep you safe and–”

He cut her off with a kiss. “I love you,” he said into the space where her neck met her shoulder. He slid down to his knees, clutching her like a lifeline, pressing his face into the softness of her stomach. “I’m so sorry.” He made a pained noise in the back of his throat.

She knelt in front of him. Cupped his face in her hands. “It’s okay. We’re okay,” she said around the lump in her throat. She kissed him softly, gently, letting her kiss say what her words couldn't. “Let’s get married.”

A small smile. “Alright,” he finally said.

“Tomorrow. Or–whenever the courthouse opens and can get us a marriage license. I don’t care. We can fly to Vegas. Let’s just get married.” Because she didn’t want to spend another second not being his wife. Not being tied to him in every possible way. Not being his. But Bruce was shaking his head. She reared back as if he’d struck her. “No?” she said, utterly confused. Disappointment and a small sting of rejection stole her breath.

“Not yet,” he said. “I want to do it right. I want you to have the wedding you want. With the people we care about, and the dress, and the cake, and the pictures.” Bruce touched his forehead to hers again and inhaled deeply like he was breathing her straight into his lungs. She knew the feeling–she wanted to gather him into her and hold him close, where he could never be parted from her again. To take him into her lungs and her heart, her very chest, and never let him go.

She frowned. “But–”

Bruce shook his head again, silencing her. “We’re only getting one chance,” he said softly. “So I want to do it right.”

Something within her unfurled and warmed. “Only one chance, huh?” she said with a small smirk. “You sound awfully sure of yourself, Mr. Wayne.”

He flashed her a tired smile. “You’re the only one I’m ever going to want.”

They stayed like that for a long moment, kneeling on the cold, damp concrete, before she noticed the hitch in his breath.

“You’re hurt,” she said with a curse. She pulled him to his feet. Her fingers worked with practiced ease at unfastening the cape and the suit. The armor had countless dings and dents and missing chunks. She could see the places where the buckshot had bit into the kevlar from the round that had nearly killed him. The small dents in his back where he’d taken more shots. A couple of slash marks from who knew what.

Y/n bit her lip and said nothing. She was grateful it had done its job well, at least.

“I’m fine,” Bruce said, but even his voice betrayed how wrecked he was. It sounded like he’d swallowed sand and gravel and glass. Like his voice would give out any second and be gone for days. He didn’t fight her as she stripped him, though.

She went to tug off the undershirt beneath the armor–still damp and, frankly, smelling disgusting–when Bruce hissed and recoiled from her.

She went still, one eyebrow arched. “Fine, huh?” she said.

Bruce ignored her and tried to take the shirt off himself. He grunted as he moved his arms past a certain point.

Y/n was already getting a pair of scissors from the desk. She gently tugged the hem of the shirt, pulling it taut, and slid the blades up in one clean motion. The shirt fell open and Bruce shrugged the rest of the way out of it.

She sucked in a sharp breath.

Bruce’s chest was…fucked up. There wasn’t another word for it. Fucked up seemed too generous a term, actually.

With a flash, she remembered him taking that gunshot to the chest, shielding her with his body. Then the next one at point-blank range, sending him tumbling over the edge of the walkway. Not to mention the other shots he had taken.

His entire chest, from collarbones to navel, was a giant, angry purple bruise. The parts that weren’t that deep purple-black were an angry red.

“Bruce,” she said sharply. He wasn’t looking at her. “You need–We need to make sure nothing is broken.”

“I don’t think it is,” he said as she gingerly turned him around to see his back. It wasn’t as bad, but there was still a scattering of severe bruises across his shoulder blades, too, where he’d been shot in the back. “Believe it or not, I know what broken ribs feel like.”

“Why do you always crack jokes when you’re beat to shit or almost dead,” she muttered as she yanked on his pants to pull them down. She needed to check his legs, too. She wouldn’t feel satisfied until she’d checked every inch of him, and then used an x-ray machine to check inside him too. Other than the terrible bruises, he had a few minor cuts–nothing needing stitches, thankfully–and was covered pretty much head to toe in mud and blood. It had all seeped beneath the armor and the cowl and was even caked in his dark hair, rendering it more brown than black.

Bruce caught at her hands. “I’m okay,” he said softly, though his eyes were half closed against even the dim lights around them. She was squinting, too, she realized. Her head ached but it was buried beneath her deep worry at the state of Bruce. “What did they say about your head?”

“I’m concussed,” she said with a shrug. “But I’m okay. As long as I’m observed when I sleep, etc, etc. Alfred’s doing good too. He was napping on the couch when I came down here to wait.”

“You have a concussion?” Bruce said in a sharp tone. He tilted her head towards one of the lights, finally noticing the butterfly bandages holding a small cut together at her hairline.

“The good news is that the chloroform was already out of my system and didn’t do any damage.”

Bruce went so still she wasn’t sure he was breathing. “You were drugged?” And god if that low growl in his voice didn’t make her shiver.

She poked at his bare bicep with a frown. “Trust me, I’m way better off than you. I’m really afraid that–” Her breath caught. “You might have internal bleeding or–”

“We’ll call Dr. Torres to come check on both of us,” Bruce finally said. She had a feeling he’d only agree to a house call if she did, too.

“Maybe we can see if we can pay for him to go help at the hospital,” she said. “I already have Alfred working on some relief packages, figuring out where to send money or supplies. And the new mayor has already made me swear to help with several other things. If–if that’s okay.” She suddenly felt unsure of herself. Like an imposter. It wasn’t her money after all, at least not yet. Maybe she’d–

Bruce interrupted her thoughts. “You…extraordinary creature,” he said softly. She snorted and he smiled. He pressed a kiss to her temple on the uninjured side of her head. She was pretty sure there would be an imprint of his lips in mud like a lipstick kiss. “Do whatever you want with the money. I’m sure your ideas will be better than mine. Give it all away for all I care.”

“Maybe not all of it,” she teased. “We do need to pay for a wedding, remember?” And just like that, all of the uncertainties melted away. “Come one, you need a shower. And I need another one. You got…stuff all over me.”

She took his hand and led him to the elevator in nothing but his underwear.

Bruce leaned heavily against the elevator wall as it ascended, his eyes half-closed.

“There’s going to be a lot more crime,” he rasped. “A power vacuum.”

Y/n twisted her hands before she glanced up at him. “Let me help you.”

He reached out and tucked a stray piece of hair behind her ear. “Alright.” She couldn’t help the surprise on her face that he had given in so easily. He must have noticed, because he then said, “Only because I know you’ll probably do it anyway.” The words held no judgment though. He was merely stating a fact.

She flushed guiltily. “I’m sorry,” she said again. “For lying.”

Bruce merely nodded, but he didn’t seem upset. Only tired, bone deep exhausted. She led him to their bathroom, turning the shower on hot, and undressed them both all the way. He seemed content to let her lead, only watching her with hooded eyes. Her head hurt terribly, but she didn’t want to give up this chance for closeness. They had both come so close to dying and she didn’t think she could be away from him, not yet.

“I have to tell you something,” Bruce said as she began to gently wash the mud and blood from his skin with gentle strokes. She was extra careful around the budding bruises, the sight of them making her more anxious with every moment. Should they even be wasting time like this if he potentially had internal bleeding?

Bruce took her hand in one of his to hold her still. He leaned down and pressed a kiss to her lips. A slight tremble wracked his frame but he didn’t say anything else.

“Tell me what?” she asked, apprehension blooming beneath her skin as dark and painful as the bruises on his. “Bruce, what?” she said again when he didn’t answer.

“Right before Falcone was shot–” He stopped and swallowed. Rested his head against hers as the warm water poured over them both. “He said something to me. He said everything was going to go to his grave with him, everything he’d done…and he mentioned the gala.”

Y/n swiped some of the water out of her eyes with the hand not captured by Bruce’s. “What?” she said again, her voice dazed and far away.

“He didn’t say anything else before he died,” Bruce said. “But…he was involved, somehow. Either he was pulling the strings all along or…”

She had to lean against the cold tiles to steady herself. Her legs felt weak. “He was behind it,” she said, suddenly certain. From everything she’d heard, everything she’d learned about the amount of power Falcone had wielded for the past two decades, she knew with utter certainty that he had been behind everything. He had been behind the manufacturing of that drug. And when it had all gone wrong, when she and Bruce had managed to stop them and had survived, Falcone must have quietly pulled away, pulled more strings so he wouldn’t be implicated, and decided to use Maroni and his Drops production to gain more power for himself. To protect himself. To wrap himself up so firmly in power that no one even considered that he had been connected to it all.

She felt sick.

“I thought you should know,” Bruce said softly. He touched her jaw lightly, then took the washcloth from her and started rubbing small circles in her back. She leaned unconsciously into his touch.

“Is it bad to say I’m glad he’s dead?” she murmured after a moment. She grabbed the bar of soap and went back to cleaning Bruce off, even though he had the washcloth now.

“No,” he said after a moment. “Because I am too.” There was a tick in his jaw, the only hint at the anger within him.

She hummed absently before motioning for him to duck a little so she could wash his neck. The water at their feet was a mix of brown, black, and red.

“Do you think he knew? The Riddler?”

Bruce sighed a little. “Probably, though he never hinted at it. But with how obsessed he was with the case, and then with exposing Falcone as the rat…”

“Seems likely,” she finished for him. He nodded. He groaned quietly when she ran her fingers through his hair, rinsing the worst of the detritus of the floodwaters from it before lathering his head with shampoo.

After a few minutes, they were both clean, dry, and dressed.

Y/n told Bruce to let Alfred know he was back while she made a sneaky call to Dr. Torres. All three of them probably needed his services and she was thankful for the privilege that allowed it to be possible.

On the phone with the doctor, she asked if maybe they could pay to send him to help at the hospital. He’d only laughed and said he’d been on his way there anyways and to save their money for other things.

When she padded on bare feet back to the living room, Alfred and Bruce were in deep conversation on opposite ends of the couch. Bruce had his elbows on his knees as he talked. She knew he was fighting the exhaustion weighing him down, knew he wouldn’t sleep until he passed out.

She sat between the two men, bracketed on either side by their warmth, and let herself finally take a deep breath.

When she woke, Dr. Torres was there and Alfred was missing.

She sat up groggily, unsure how long she’d been asleep.

Bruce seemed to notice her confusion and murmured, “It’s only been half an hour.”

She rubbed her eyes. They felt gritty, full of salt. She had no idea if it was from taking a dive into the floodwater or from sheer exhaustion.

Dr. Torres was forced by Bruce to examine her first. He repeated what they had told her at the hospital–she had a concussion and had to be careful. He gave Bruce instructions on monitoring her and how often for her to take pain medication.

Satisfied, Bruce started to walk away.

Y/n cleared her throat pointedly. “Take it off,” she said dryly.

Bruce sighed, cheeks slightly pink, and shed his shirt.

Dr. Torres sucked in a breath.

“I’m worried about internal bleeding,” y/n said softly. “Even though he says he’s fine and doesn’t need a hospital.”

Dr. Torres looked between the pair of them, one eyebrow raised and lips pursed. “How did it happen?”

“I was leaving the hospital where Alfred was when the flood came,” Bruce lied smoothly. “I was swept under and hit something–the front end of a car maybe.”

“Did you lose consciousness?”

Bruce glanced at her. She wondered if they were remembering the same moment–her and Selina dragging him to safety on that metal walkway, him passing out as soon as he was on his back. She glared daggers at him, silently daring him to lie about his symptoms. He had to lie about his whereabouts, how the bruising had happened, but not about how it had affected him.

“For a second,” Bruce finally said.

“Under the water?”

“No,” Bruce said. He shrugged, then winced.

Dr. Torres started muttering under his breath, listing things to himself as he set about examining Bruce first with his hands, and then with the equipment they had stocked in the manor.

Finally, after roughly an hour, Dr. Torres was confident that Bruce only had severe bruising and a couple of fractured ribs. Y/n was able to let go of the anxiety simmering underneath her skin.

“Can you use any of this stuff?” she asked as Dr. Torres packed his things. “For the hospital?”

Bruce shot her a look but she ignored it.

Dr. Torres looked slightly uncomfortable. “I–I wouldn’t want to–”

“We can restock whatever you take relatively easily, I’m sure,” she said. “Take it. We want to help in whatever way we can.”

So Dr. Torres left them with his car packed full of supplies for the hospital, again waving away her offers to pay him extra for helping out.

“We’re going to bed,” y/n said to Bruce once the doctor was gone. Alfred had already retired himself to his own bedroom, claiming that all his resting was making him more tired.

Bruce hesitated and looked outside, where the sun was starting its descent towards the horizon.

“Gotham is under martial law,” she reminded him, yanking his arm to get him to follow her to their room. They’d heard it on the news as soon as the internet and cell service had been restored. “It can wait one night for you to rest and recover.”

Bruce looked like he wanted to argue. But the moment he touched the bed, he sank into it with a groan, eyes falling closed as if against his will.

She lay down beside him and curled into his warmth. The house was cold as winter threatened outside, but she didn’t feel like getting up to adjust the temperature or start a fire. Bruce was warm enough.

“Sleep,” she told Bruce even as she yawned herself. She pulled the blankets over them both.

Bruce kissed her hair. “I will if you will,” he murmured. She smiled at the familiar refrain.

They held each other as darkness fell outside, as they succumbed to their mutual exhaustion. For the first time in days, y/n was able to relax in the safety of Bruce’s arms without worrying about anything else.

Next Chapter

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popcornforone · 8 months

Text

Enjoying The View

Chapter 5 of the Is That All Mr Gutierrez Fan Fic series

Master list

Chapter 4

Sorry Dave York (unsurprisingly) got in the way of chapter 5 of this, but I’ve suddenly really got a move on with this today & ive really enjoyed writing it. I promised people I wouldn’t break Javi G which considering I mainly write Dave, is actually really hard to do, but I think I’ve done well. Things really get going now. Maybe the next chapter will be sooner rather than later.

Synopsis: You wake up the morning after the night before in Javis bed wondering if it was all a dream. But it’s the sight of the man that you’ve always loved that makes you realise this is so much more than just a dream.

Word count:3000

Warning: DO NOT READ IF YOU ARE UNDER 18!Protected PIV sex, kissing sucking, teasing some pre cum play, admiring& seducing, swearing. Boss employee relationship. Long term friends to lovers.

Thanks as always for the read peoples it’s really appreciated. All feed back is welcome in any form. I’ll hopefully see you soon for chapter 6.

Stirring into life on a Sunday morning has always been hard. The bright light flooding into the bedroom as you go oooh no & pull the bedsheet back over you. It’s just your thing. You dont want to get up, Sundays are lazy days. Your bed is meant to be your safe comfortable space until you realise you should make some sort of effort with the day.

But then you smell the bedding. This isn’t your sheets at home or in your room at Javis. These are blue silk & smell of Javi. You are asleep in his bed. Last night was not some wild dream you had. Last night you had sex with Javi on the sofa, not once but twice. You never watched Paddington. You were to engrossed in each others bodies that you never got that far. You can still feel the echo from his hand clutching around your waist, how his flat large thumb was made to pleasure your sensitive clit, how his lips tasted of love, lust & desire. Yea it happened, you & Javi had sex & you chuckle slightly under the bedding, realising that all your dreams had come true.

However thats when you realise Javi is not in bed with you. A quick look around his bedroom & he is nowhere to be seen. But there is the amorous smell of coffee waiting for you on the bed side table. There’s steam coming from it so it can’t have been sat there long. You sit up & that’s when you see the curtains blow from the balcony of his villa. He’s having his morning cigarette & coffee watching the view over your town as it it comes alive on this Sunday morning. You realise that you joined Javi in his bed in your birthday suit & you have no clothes to put on to go & give him a good morning kiss. However the bed sheet is thin & easy for you to wrap around yourself or so you think. “Why do they always make this look so simple in movies” you mutter to yourself before you sort yourself out & eventually knot it. Once you are covered, you take your coffee & slowly make your way across Javis bedroom & lean on the door frame & just have a few private seconds staring & admiring the man you love.

He sits there so peacefully, coffee half drunk on the table, smoking his cigarette. His lips plump after each exhale. His eyes gleaming at the sun, his locks of curls beyond anyones control now, his skin being kissed by the golden sun that is already up, each blemish is a line of perfection & his body is long & impressive, especially his broadness. Those shoulders look a little more relaxed than they have done recently, maybe last night was a relief for you both, that after this morning may never be mentioned again, but you hope to god it’s not. He has his boxers on, being his bedroom of course he could grab them when he woke up this morning. It’s as his large hand grabs his coffee cup, that out of the side of his eye he catches you staring & admiring. A small smile creeps across his face.

“Enjoying the view?” he says casually like it’s nothing unusual that the girl he’s wanted to be with for his entire life is wearing nothing but his bedding just a few feet away.

“Well it’s certainly is something” you reply. He stands up coffee in hand, with the cigarette in the same one walks towards you & he strokes your face, delicately taking in all of your facial features this glorious morning.

“I’m glad you are enjoying it” these soft words from his mouth a followed by a succulent kiss. One that says good morning & I need you all at the same time. The sensation it sends through your body, almost makes you drop your own coffee cup, has your hands trembling. “Morning precious, did you sleep well?” Javi asks as he goes to take another drag of his cigarette. Your own fingers take it from him & you take your own puff. It’s been a while since you’ve smoked anything, probably 3 months & that was to try the recent crop to make sure it was up to scratch. You don’t smoke as much as you used to, it’s much more at the end of a night out or for social reasons. Your mum still hates that you ever even go near it. You hand it back to Javi before answering his question.

“Like a baby, Javi”

You’ve never seen him put a cigarette out so quickly in all your life. It’s stubbed & both your mugs are on the table as his hand caress you & his lips more than welcome yours back to his. Your body remembers every touch from the night before. As his hands enter your hair you recall the moans, the pleasure & the adrenaline. You gasp as the kiss breaks & smile, At the most perfect man you could ever hope for.

“Last night did happen then?” He asks, his thumbs tracing across your knuckles as he looks you up & down.

“Yes Javi it did” you reply looking up into those large brown puppy dog eyes, smiling with your own hoping to get a similar look back.

“I thought so”… he pauses for a second before thinking of his next words”…I… I… I wanted that, for a while, but never thought you would want me back or even think of me as more than a friends” Javi says looking a little sheepish that it’s taken him so long to ask you. “& I didn’t even ask you on a date first” he says shaking his head. But your two fingers that you trail up his neck to his chin make him stop & admire you.

“It’s not like you need to get to know me Javi” I laugh “I think we can skip the dates, I mean we did cook dinner before hand & had good intentions for a wholesome evening as friends, but no…” I smile & stroke & twist his rouge curl”… this curl has taken us down a path that I’m glad it lead us to… because I have been yours from the moment we met as kids” You let out a deep sigh after saying that hoping for it to be reciprocated, your heart beating at 200miles an hours, faster than Lewis hamilton can go.

“Well looks like we are both terrible communicators” Javi replys, clutching your hand that was on his chin & resting it on his firm chest. He can see your body judder, as the contact between his chest & your palm make you feel like you have a teenage crush all over again. His heart if possible is pounding more than yours.

“I like you Javi” you say after a few moments of silence, “I really really…” but you don’t complete your sentence.

“So do I” is Javis quick response before you’re passionately kissing him. Mouths intwined in desire, your hands gracing his shoulders to make sure you are both as close as you can be. It’s a feverish kiss. One neither of you can really control. His hands love the feeling of your body under that silk bed sheet, but he knows that’s not good enough for him. With one hand around the back of your neck & the other around your waist he pulls you back into the bedroom, so your out of view of anyone trying to get a peak at what’s going on & your own hand loosen the knot you spent so long adjusting & tying. The bedsheet cascades to the floor, meaning you’re naked as you make out with Javi as he moves the two of you towards the bed. He’s not yet realised this, he’s too busy enjoying the taste of your loving lips for him, & he’s really wondering why the two of you haven’t attempted to do this sooner.

“Javi” it’s a soft seductive moan that escapes your lips. “I want this, I want you forever” you continue to say inbetween kisses. It’s only when Javis have traces across the top of your breasts he realises the sheet has long gone. His smile twitches as he looks down at your nipples eyes wide.

“If I’d have know these were what was under all those dresses & bikini, I’d have indulged in these long before last night” Javis face is as excited as a kid at Christmas. Those dark caramels scanning your body. From you hair down to your toes, taking in the glorious naked sight of you. He lowers you onto the bed & without realising you spread your legs, fully on display. Javi pauses as he hoovers above you. “Fuck precious, this is too good to be true” he can feel his erection getting harder the more he looks at you. So he stops looking & from your neck downward he kisses you. Your nipples harden as he is sloppy kissing them. His hands wandering as well as you start to roll your hips from just Javis kisses on your skin. The moan he lets out when he reaches your mound & sees the sight is undescribable & it makes you clench around nothing.

“Well, this is a sight” he kisses your thighs, before two fingers slide through your arousal, teasing you but not going inside you. “You really want me that much my princess ?” You lift your head & see Javi suck the two fingers he just used to tease you.

“You have no idea Javi”

“You’re not just sex & lust drunk?” He says as he stands up & quickly shuffles to his dresser to find a condom. He drops his boxers as he goes. That arse really is perfectly firm, like a peach, tanned & looking rather scrupulous

“Javi I’d have told you if I regretted last night I don’t I… I…” words fail you as Javi turns around. This swim shorts & tight trousers always made him look big but it’s girthy too. No wonder you experienced pleasure so quickly last night, your jaw drops, a little trail of spit leaking out as you can’t contain your reaction to how stunning & how large your man is. This is more that you could have ever asked for & you hope to experience this pleasure for many more days to come.Javi Gutierrez being well endowed is an understatement.

“I’m guessing that you really are enjoying the view now” he says as he rips open the condom packet & gives his penis a few leisurely pumps before he slides the protection on, as you sit up on your elbow to check this isn’t a dream. He’s big, he is very big.

“Did I…I…”

“Most of it baby, you took most of it baby, if it is too much we can…”

“No Javi” you interrupt as he straddle over you. “…I said I wanted all of you, & I mean all of you” he holds your hand & your fingers lock, his over hand preparing for his entrance inside you.

“Then we will take it slow baby, this is as much about your pleasure as it is mine” he says before he kisses the crook of your neck. “Are you happy my precious?”

You slowly nod & bite your lip “yes Javi yea I…” the gasp is deep as he slowly breaks down your entrance & you feel his cock slide inside you. You’re panting already. Was he really this big last night? Did he feel bigger now you had seen it? You don’t care. All the air has been punctured out of you & then some. “Fuck” you moan on his second motions as he get deeper.

“Is it too much?”

“No Javi”

“If you need me to stop…”

“Don’t stop, ever” you say quite sternly looking into his eyes as he wanted to ask you face on. He smiles.

“Okay but please let me know if it’s too much”

Javi moves a piece of your hair out of your eyes as he then starts to rock. Each motion pushing his penis further inside you, each one you gasp & moan at experiencing pleasure no man has ever given you. Your hands dance over his chest & shoulders. Your leg instinctively in this position wrap around him making him moan as how good you feel.”oh fuck baby, your so tight, fuck me” he moans before he grips your face & the kissing commences.

Your bodies have very quickly worked each other out. He’s pushing you deeper into the mattress, you’re pulling him further into you. Your hips match his pace. & the moaning gets more. He’s now finally fully inside your. Your vagina is filled to the brim, loving every stroke around your walls. Making you Experience so much more than pleasure. He’s looking after you, you can tell that Javi is a very passionate but sensitive lover, not that it would be a surprise if he was. He is loving you moan & gasp for air. He looks deeply at you, as the sweat drips from his main front curl. The way your eyes shut & scrunch in desire as you feel him move. & then when they open it feels like they are looking at him for the first time again. Your eyes he often says are diamonds now dazzling for the world to see but your world is Javi. He keeps kissing your lips, be them small pecks or longer passionate exchanges as his hips rotate & he starts to pick up that pace. He feels like he’s making up for least time. The more he moves the more you roll with him, clamping every few thrusts, loving every second of making love with Javi. The foreplay was everything, but this is going to be over quickly, your both over come with desire that this moment is here. It’s better than you both imagined.

Your hand leaves his which we’re still gripped together, the nerves of your fingers coming back to life as they trail down his spine, feeling all of his own goosebumps. His body trembles as you do this & it makes him go faster, the moans your now making in sync with each other. You really are meant to be.

“Sweet Javi” you moan & he moans your name back before his lips find your mouth again & then something inside you breaks as he nips at your bottom lip & you let go. Flooding your arousal, cuming & moaning “ooooh fuckkkkkkk” as you experience one of the most intense orgasms you’ve ever had. He’s moving faster & then he pauses as he cums himself. Filling the condom & grunting deeply.

“Ooh baby, oh yea oh fuck” Javi collapses completely on top of you, both of you panting so hard, & you then hold his chin & kiss him hard & firmly on the lips.

You didn’t realise you’d fallen asleep after the intense pleasure you & Javi had experienced for your early morning or realised that Javi had left the bedroom when you woke up. You were back under the bed sheet & some underwear & a robe were on the bed side table for you.

You get yourself together when you realise what the time is & that your meant to be at the hotel help your mum this afternoon with a conference & quickly run to where your room is in the house to shower & get dressed ready for the event. As you put on your shoes you text Javi

*where are you? I need to leave to go help mum

*in my study… your going so soon🥺

*unfortunately yes

You grab your bag & head to the study & see Javi clicking away at his computer & knock twice as you would normally do. He’s in his swim shorts & an open floral shirt as he spins around to see you.

“Afternoon” he says coyly smirking looking you up & down his eyes undressing you.

“Hi Javi, I really do need to go or my mum will kill me”

“No she won’t”

“Yes she will it’s…”

“Not if I’ve already sent Diaz over there to help her set up” Javi interrupts & you look shocked. Diaz is Javis personal trainer.

“Why would…”

“Because I told him I’ve had a works out today” you both blush & you shuffle a little bit awkwardly towards him. The smirk on his face you can tell he doesn’t want to let you go. “& I’m his boss”

“Do all your employees do that Javi? Just do what you want at the snap of your fingers?”

“& more, some go above & beyond” he realises how that’s come out & you can see the concern in his eyes. He didn’t mean it to sound like he way paying you to be his girlfriend or have sex with him.

“Javi if this is going to be awkward I can resign or we don’t have to do this. What happened today & last night was phenomenal but I…”

“I love you…” Javi says & your jaw drops. “I always have, I always will, I’m not wasting anymore time. No one else can do the job like you & im not going to make up any excuse. I want you , I need you, I love you” he then whispers your name seductively biting your ear lobe & you drop your bad on the floor as you stroke his arm & then tenderly kiss him.

“Javi… I.. I..”

“Don’t say it back because you think you have to, but deep down we both know you do” he says.

“No Javi, I think I need to call my mum tell her I’m really delayed.” You smile your eyes dancing & looking back at Javi. His beam back at you before you turn around & lock the office door, to make sure no one can walk in on you enjoying each other. A view for just the two of you.

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