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angelltheninth · 1 year

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The Stuff of Wet Nightmares

Pairing: Male!Sleep Paralysis Demon x Fem!Reader

Tags: nsfw, smut, dub-con, fear play, dirty talk, cunnilingus, whimpering, dream sex, biting, clit stimulation

Word count: 1.6k

Ao3

A/N: Recently heard of a book that had a sleep paralysis demon in it. Apparently it's pretty hot but I haven't read it yet. Hopefully I will once I get through Learn My Lesson. Anyway this is, a very late, next part of my Monster Week.

The first thing you noticed when you opened your eyes was that, yes you were still in your room. It was still nighttime judging from the sliver of moonlight coming from your window. But something wasn't right. Try as you might you couldn't move a muscle.

You opened your mouth to try to curse but no sound would come out. You were completely paralyzed. In your mind you trashed and kicked, but it wasn't translating to your body at all.

"You really should stop trying that. It makes the experience worse for us both." The scratchy, deep voice sounded from somewhere in the room. Your eyes frantically searched for its source. "Up here sweet dreamer."

You manage to shift your gaze upwards to the corner of the bedroom door. There you see a pair of piercing ice blue eyes, in even darker colors of blue, staring at you. You can't make out anything else as the eyes move down the wall in unnatural way, almost gliding.

"Forgive the intrusion on my part." The entity smiles as it straightens up, towering over you even at the distance. You're able to see sharp rows of pointy teeth, it too a glowing blue color, both its eyes and its mouth seem to give out a faint blue shimmer. "Your dreams smelled so sweet, I just couldn't stay away." It crept closer, the form shrinking and shifting, almost shadow like from what you could see, "Oh, are you scared? Hm, how about I take a form more familiar to you?"

It smirked, eyes narrowing then widening as it took a male bodied shape and tone of voice. The blue eyes and teeth stayed but there was also a shadowy strand of hair falling over its left eye, almost entirely obscuring it. And while the body was muscular you could still make out little wisps of light dancing across it like firelights.

"Better now dreamer?" He tilted his head and walked close, aware of the nakedness of himself and your eyes taking him in. "What troubles you tonight. Let me take a look."

His hand, smooth, warm and almost tickling you, pressed against your cheek.

"Oh dear. That's an awful lot of stress for just one person. No wonder you've been having trouble sleeping lately. Perhaps I can do something about it. You humans are a complicated yet simple bunch, I've learned many things about your kind over the years. Such as..." In a moment he was above you, on top of you, grabbing your chin and making eye contact with you. His knee pressed between your legs, lightly massaging the aching spot, "how to best make you come."

Once again you tried to speak but to no avail. The pressure felt good, but you didn't know this... demon, you had no idea of his true goals. It scared and aroused you at the same time. His hands, a little big on your hips still, took hold and moved you against his leg.

"How long has it been since someone touched you like this?" He questioned against your skin, his long, forked tongue licking down your neck. It too was a shade of blue, a little lighter than the interior of his mouth. "Haven't you been a good girl? Haven't you earned your release?"

Heat pooled between your legs fast, building up until it crashed over you like an avalanche as you came with a soundless cry. For a moment you thought you'd closed your eyes again, when actually that was just your mind trying to come back to you.

He smiled above you, his hands smoothing under your shirt and hiking it up. He licked downward, between and around your breasts, biting the right underboob, making you shiver at the sharpness of his teeth and the knowledge that he could rip you apart if he wanted to. But he didn't, that wasn't his goal. His goal was between your legs. Your panties were slid off and left barely hanging at the foot of the bed.

"You smell even sweeter when aroused." The long tongue flicked between your lower lips, smooth and hot, sending a jolt of arousal through your still body. "Taste even better." He dove in with his mouth and tongue, licking between, around and inside you. This time you found that you could whimper, but only barely, resulting in him smiling against you, "Does it feel good? Tell me, I'll allow it."

A high and choked "Yes." left your lips before you went right back to making those lewd sounds that he seemed to thrive on.

"I'm glad." He made eye contact with you as he licked a long path from your pussyhole to your clit, tapping against it with his forked tongue. "You taste better than dreams. You might be my new sustenance. A win-win."

He lifted from between your legs, your juices dripping down his chin. His hand went between his legs and fisted around his cock. You don't know how you were able to miss it until now, it wasn't small by any means.

"I can shift it. For any shape that suits your needs. So how do you want me? Do you want me?" His eyes found yours, searching for an answer as he slid his hand up and down the hard appendage. You moaned as you saw it shift in the perfect shape and girth for your pussy. "This one?" He circled the tip on your clit, his hips barely moving.

"Yes. I want." Were all the words you were able to speak out, that he needed to hear before you felt the head of his dick on your entrance. He gave it a few experimental thrusts, pushing forward more with every roll of his hips.

"Oh yes." He moaned, deep and breathless as he bottomed out, "Much better than a dream. You take me perfectly my sweet. Your body is responding so well to me. This cock is just what you needed isn't it? Fucking you deep, filling up your empty hole like no other."

You wanted to nod, to moan, to ask him for his name, to shake your hips into his. But all you could do was lie still as he moved back and forth above you, his hips pressing against yours, his face close to yours, your breath mixing together before he kissed you.

The kiss further muffled your moans as his pace increased, his hands grabbing hold of your hips, his nails leaving pink scratch marks on your skin as he started to hammer his hard cock into your pussy. Not even you realized how much you needed this. You needed him to fuck, and mark you, and drive you to the brink and pull you back. "Harder." You were able to say against him before he dove back into another, deeper kiss, his teeth nibbling and pulling at your lip before licking over it, constantly reminding you of what he is.

"Whatever you ask." He obliged with much glee, driving with cock deep it had to be kissing your cervix. "A little more and I bet I could open you up. But even in a dream I think that'd hurt a little too much." There was a darkness in his concerning tone telling you that despite knowing that he wanted to do it. "Let me hear you my sweet dreamer. I want to hear you come undone around my cock."

"Oh fuck!" The left your mouth before you could register it, your moans no longer held back some invisible force although your body was still paralyzed, rocking only because of his thrusts. "Yeah, fuck, make me come!"

"As many times you want." He drove his cock back and forth into your twitching, sensitive cunt, each thrust accompanied by wet slapping sounds of skin against skin. "Do you want my cum too? You've been so well behaved, I think you deserve it."

You could barely even choke out your confirmation before you were flooded by huge loads of cum. He kept fucking you through his orgasm, intent on getting you there too. His cum only made his cock more slippery, the length twitching and pulsing as it dragged against your quivering walls and pushed you over the edge. His arms went around your shoulders, his teeth latching onto you neck.

For a moment your pulse quickened, wondering if he would kill you now that he got what he wanted. It wasn't until you heard and felt a deep rumble from his chest that you realized he was completely calm. It irked you a little, you were all out of breath and shaking and here he was, still completely fine.

"A mark for you. So others know you're mine." He whispered against your skin, "Until next time my sweet dreamer." His voice echoed in your ears as you felt yourself fade into unconsciousness.

It was an emptiness and ache between your legs that you woke up with. Your whole body ached in fact. "Fuck. Was that... a dream?" Considering there was no one in your room but you and no cum between your legs, something that a part of you looked forward to seeing, it had to have been a dream. You rushed into the bathroom, you had to be sure.

There it was, a bite mark on your neck. Not a dream, not reality, but something in between.

A shiver went down your spine and straight between your legs as you remembered his words: "Until next time."

"Until tonight." You smiled into the mirror. It was brief but for a moment you swore you heard his voice, his chuckle, right behind you.

#monster x reader #monster romance #monster boyfriend #monsterfucking #monster lover #sleep paralysis demon x reader #monster imagine #monster x human #monster x girl #monster smut #sleep paralysis demon smut #monster fic #terato

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cerastes · 6 months

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hello dreamer! as someone versed in specter lore, i was hoping you could possibly clarify why guard specter is in a nun outfit. was it just something the church of the deep stuck her in? laurentina was into sculpting, dancing, and fighting and cherished ideas of beauty. she was always even in her "worst" state as the ill specter truly devoted to assisting her friends and being a reliable fighter. did she cling to the nun for grounding or identity during a time when she had very little, or what?

It's due to the aggressive, high intensity brainwashing she was subjected to by the Church of the Deep, alongside their Originium experiments.

The main thing to remember about the whole Laurentina-Specter situation is that the Church of the Deep were winging it. Never before had they managed to capture an Abyssal Hunter, and Laurentina was patient zero for them. After being completely exhausted, battered, and weakened from covering the Third Company's (this being Ulpianus' and Skadi's team) advance towards Ishar-mla against overwhelming odds, enough that the entire rest of the Second Company except Gladiia and herself died, Laurentina got washed up to the coast, where the Church happened upon her. Not really knowing exactly what makes a Hunter click beyond surface level appreciations, they made her their guinea pig.

Amaia and Quintus both express immense surprise at her having survived the experiments at all, because said experiments involved, among other things, injecting enough liquified Originium into her spine to infect a small country (literal, non-hyperbolic assessment). Laurentina's main card, after all, is her sheer resilience.

As it has become clear by now, Originium has a will or some sort, and it's impossible to say how sentient it truly is, but it Really Doesn't Like Us. It's why Nightmare and Ptilopsis, for example, hear voices telling them to do awful things. Laurentina was subjected to some hardcore brainwashing at the hands of Amaia and Quintus. If you ask me, the underlying theory was most likely "through brainwashing and the intrusive presence of Originium in her psyche, could we make a loyal soldier out of a Hunter?".

Throughout the time they had Laurentina, the answer would be no, because Laurentina is resilience given shape. Keep in mind, the liquid Originium was injected directly into her spine, so her mental faculties were severely impacted and, compounding with the brainwashing, it made her go almost insane. At some point, Kal'tsit happened upon this particular state of affairs and rescued Specter. We don't know the particulars of that event, other than Kal'tsit rescued Laurentina personally and took her to Rhodes Island, and through Specter's Files, we know she was still clinging to sanity at this point, and it was mid-interview with HR that she went fully "insane" AKA Laurentina went dormant and the Specter took over. This is also entirely consistent to how Laurentina's mental resilience works, as we'd eventually out in Stultifera Navis: When they finally reached Rhodes Island, they were too far from the ocean for Laurentina's Seaborn genes to function at a high enough output to push back at the brainwashing-and-originium combo (conversely, this is how she temporarily regains her sanity at the end of Under Tides: proximity to the ocean and enough stumuli; it's a bit different in Stultifera Navis, but it follows the same principle).

The choice of outfit, that being a nun's attire, stems from the brainwashing she was subjected by the Church of the Deep. During and after Under Tides (Specter OP Record 2), she keeps it on as a matter of convenience more than anything: She knows she's on borrowed time, and that she'll go dormant again soon, so she wants to get as much done as possible while she's still herself: Go assist Rhodes Island Elite Operator Misery with a dicey situation, have a brief but important chat with Skadi so Skadi can forgive herself already, spend some time with Gladiia, talk with Closure, and finally, talk with Doctor, specifically about not even thinking of taking it easy with her, and to keep sending her out to as many fights as possible, because if they don't, they deny her her purpose, the very last thing she has (until she does in fact awaken for good, that is, but at this point, that seemed an impossibility).

It's less about her clinging to the nun look for grounding as much as, even if she couldn't help but be dressed in the way of her captors, even if she wasn't in control of her actions, in control of her body, in control of her mind most of the time, Laurentina, being defined by unrelenting resilience, doggedly clung to whatever she could, to make sure she was never fully controlled, influencing the Specter even as she lay dormant: One could surmise that, being caught between the immense influence of Laurentina's willpower and the overpowering brainwashing of the Church, this lead to Specter behaving as she did: During combat, a silent, mumbling war machine that unfailingly followed the orders of her rescuers -- Rhodes Island -- to the letter, even if it hurt her or put her in danger, and outside of it, an unstable but harmless lady that would say some concerning things here and there but never really act on them. Hilariously enough, as we'd eventually find out, the 'psychotic' outbursts Specter had, such as saying that all things are meant to be cut in pieces, were actually reflections of Laurentina and not any insanity. The Specter, without any influence from Laurentina, is simply a faithful, devoted follower. It's Laurentina's influence that brings out those bursts of violence from Specter.

The "identity during a time when she had very little" is her fighting on behalf of Rhodes Island, and fighting at all: Again, check out Specter's Operator Record 2, it answers a lot about Laurentina in a pre-Unchained world, she herself explains how, even if she loses absolutely everything, even her body and mind, she WILL make sure that her body remains a useful tool of combat for you if that's all she can do, and that to care for her, baby her, and keep her away from combat would be the ultimate insult you could throw at her, because you're denying her her last wish and ultimate purpose as an Abyssal Hunter, and as Laurentina.

#arknights #specter #laurentina

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vaporwavebeach-writes · 7 months

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Kinktober Day 12 (Medical Play)

BTAA Scarecrow x Reader (NSFW)

(1,223 Words)

Summary: you have a debilitating phobia of needles and Dr. Crane has the solution to overcoming those fears

Warnings/Tags: 18+, gender neutral reader, reader has MAJOR trypanophobia (fear of needles), panic attacks, exposure therapy, medical kink (duh), crane feeding off the reader’s fear, crane being unprofessional, doctor/patient dynamic, fingering

Notes: sorry this one’s a little late LMAO but literally? as someone who had SEVERE trypanophobia, this was kinda empowering to write, enjoy the fic!!!

There was always a sense of unease whenever you found yourself at the doctors office. Maybe it was the awkward silence of sitting in the waiting room, anticipating what’s to come. Maybe it was the little intrusions that came with a basic physical check-up. Maybe it was unsettling scent of sterilized chemicals, sanitizing the room. Maybe it was those beige colored walls, glaring at you for the duration of your visit. Maybe it was the fact that you were about to be subjected to one of your worst fears. Or maybe, it was the fact that your physician is incredibly attractive.

Yeah, that too.

You find yourself, laying on his exam table, staring up at the ceiling. His voice, playful, as he explains the clinical the proceedings of this visit, reverberates off the walls.

“I’m really glad to see you taking the initiative to face your fears, exposure therapy isn’t for the faint of heart, you know.”

Your heart flutters at his words. As someone who suffered from a fear of needles since childhood, you figured that now, well into your adulthood, it was finally time to overcome that fear.

Doctors appointments for important vaccinations or even just the seasonal flu shot was always enough to spiral you into a panic. Nightmares leading up to it, hyperventilating, and giving yourself panic attacks to the point of nausea or fainting were feelings you had become all too familiar with. Feeling the prying gazes of other people in the waiting room or judgmental nurses always caused your embarrassment to spike at what you thought, was your own childish anxieties.

Seeing Dr. Jonathan Crane changed all that. When you scheduled your first session with him, his office felt comfortable. Adorned with classic horror movie posters and little mementos about his interests gave the impression that you wouldn’t be just some patient to him, but someone who he would genuinely try to help with your issues. When time came to actually talk about your fear, he wasn’t mean, or judgmental, or condescending, but he was understanding. He was someone who took a deep interest in whatever you had to say, as a patient and as a person. When he suggested the idea of exposure therapy, you were hesitant, but he had helped you come to realize that you had to start somewhere, which lead you to the clinic.

“Thanks, doctor,” you smile nervously, “gotta start somewhere, right?”

“Too true,” he says, turning to you as he walks over to the counter. “I appreciate that you put your trust in me to help you with such a… Debilitating, vulnerability.”

You hear the metallic rustling from within the cabinets. You stare back up at the ceiling, yet your curiosity gets the better of you. Glancing back over to him, you spy him preparing the needles, sending a wave of trepidation through your body.

“The syringes will be filled with a simple saline solution, it’s not harmful, but the solution is not what you’re afraid of, is it?” Maybe it’s just your anxiety, but you could swear there’s a hint of eeriness within his voice.

“Hey, uh, Doctor?”

“What is it, sweet pea?” He asks jokingly.

“I um, I just wanna apologize in advance in case I freak out at the needle.” You muster out with as much courage as you can. “Like, I-I might cry actually.” You chuckle nervously. You actually do feel the urge to cry as uneasiness fills the pit in your stomach.

“Aw now,“ There’s a playfulness to his voice. You’ve heard it many times in sessions, but it feels a little unsettling to hear it now. “Don’t psych yourself up too much, remember your breathing techniques.”

You can’t regulate your breathing at a time like this. As he makes his way over to you with a little alcohol wipe, you feel yourself beginning to hyperventilate. You feel the sweat trickling down your forehead as your throat begins to go dry. You feel faint; clammy. That alcohol wipe was the calm before the storm. You were fine when it was swabbed across your skin, but it always signaled what’s to come.

“Dr. Crane, I don’t know if I-”

“The feelings you have right now are completely expected,” he hushes you. “It’s all anticipatory, you fear the dread of it more than the actual stick itself, and I think I have found a sufficient way to combat that,” his explanation is stern, but comforting. He takes his gloved hands in yours, feeling his warmth through the latex. “Do you trust me?”

You’re hesitant. Your eyes threaten to spill tears out of the sheer distress you feel at the moment, yet Crane stares at you confidently, as if he knows you will make the right decision. You let out a shaky sigh, “Yes.”

“Good,” he grins at you. His hand makes its way to cup your cheek, gently thumbing over you. It moves up and around, to the nape of your neck and through your scalp, playing with your hair. You practically melt into his touch, fear beginning to dissipate from within you. And it’s at that moment, he gives it a tug, eliciting a soft moan from your lips. “A good method to combating fear, is to add an equally positive stimulus.” He lets out a low chuckle in response, which you feel go straight to your groin.

“I think I catch your drift.”

“Trust me,” he whirls you around on the table, spreading your legs. You can feel the heat pooling in your sex. “By the time I’m done with you, your phobia of needles will be the last thing on your mind.” He eyes you up, feeling his predatory gaze all around you like you wish his body was.

“I don’t want to be afraid anymore,” you whisper desperately.

“Then let’s not waste any time.”

You two work together to undo your pants. Your sex drips with arousal as Dr. Crane’s hand makes its way past your underwear. Your legs shake as he grazes over a particularly sensitive spot. He adds more pressure stroking you steadily as you all but grind yourself on his hand.

“God, you are such a good patient,” he groans. “Your determination to cure yourself of this fear, by any means necessary, is remarkable.”

You let out a breathy moan at the praise. You feel his fingers enter inside you, curling up and fucking away any fear you had before.

“Dr. Crane,” you gasp. “I think, I-I’m-”

“Getting close?”

“Mhm.” You groan.

You feel yourself quickly reaching your peak, eyes slamming shut. As you feel Crane’s fingers speeding up, there’s a sharp, painful sensation in your arm, making you cry out in a pained whine. With the pain, soon follows your orgasm, which tears through you frantically.

Breathing heavily, you come down from your euphoric high, to find Dr. Crane removing his gloves, smiling over at you proudly.

“Congratulations,” he smirks. “We’ve made excellent progress in overcoming your phobia, I think we’ve made a break through.” Washing his hands in the sink, he takes a seat on the table beside you, that playful tone once again adorning his voice. “However, I think we may need to have a few more sessions, fears aren’t cured overnight you know.”

You giggle, looking at him feeling giddy. You couldn’t wait for your next appointment.

#btaa scarecrow x reader #jonathan crane x reader #jonathan crane x you #jonathan crane smut #btaa scarecrow #scarecrow x reader #scarecrow imagine #scarecrow x you #jonathan crane imagine #kinktober #kinktober 2023 #mia writes batman!!!

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eviesaurusrex · 1 year

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“15. finding excuses to be alone with each other” With Bucky Barnes 🥰

I always do this too but then I get really nervous when it actually happens 😂

I never did that, but it sounds so bloody sweet. I hope you like with what I came up!

Bucky Barnes x (implied) Stark!Reader (sorry)

warnings: fluff, maybe some anxiety and intrusive thoughts by our baby boy, short mention of mind-reading abilities

word count: 1.5k

***

The team—consisting of Steve, Sam, Natasha, Clint, and Bucky—had just returned from their mission in the snowy depths of Poland, still partially in their tactical gear, heavy duffle bags thrown over their shoulders or tiredly carried in their hands. Bucky felt as if he could sleep for hours if he hit the bed any time soon, and even thought the nightmares wouldn’t plague him as much as they usually used to, but he couldn’t fool himself that much. Instead, he dreaded the return to the empty bedroom he called his ever since joining his best friend and being out of rehab. He would much more prefer it if he could grab one of the books neatly stacked on the bookshelf—the only furniture, other than his closet, really in constant use—and make himself comfortable in the lounge or in the labs with…—

As the thought struck him, not really out of the blue because he was constantly thinking about her, Bucky stopped in his tracks and made Sam almost run into him on his way to his own room on their shared floor. “What the…? Could you please not randomly stop in front of my face?!” The brooding soldier didn’t even spare a glance at the complaining man in his back, who got on his nerves on a daily basis and let the duffle bag fall from his left shoulder as if suddenly pummeled by almost excruciating pain.

Steve had turned at the commotion in his back, eyes swiftly moving over the two men he considered his closest friends, before taking Bucky in, who now had even grabbed the base of his freshly crafted metal arm and let his shoulder slowly but steadily rotate. “You alright, Buck?” The brunet felt awful for worrying Steve in such a matter, knowing how the blond tended to be the mother hen of the entire group, always looking out for each and everyone, but he couldn’t help himself. So, he shrugged with the unharmed shoulder, fingers still closed around the metal covered by the rigid fabric of his combat jacket. “Not sure. Felt it earlier too. Probably should get that checked out,” Bucky muttered and attempted to gather the bag from the floor, but Steve was fast to stop him. “I got this, pal. Go and let someone take a look at it, but I need their approval to let you back in the field.”

With that, the blond soldier grabbed his bag and continued his way while Sam threw him a suspicious look as he walked past him, following the whispering and gossiping rest. He didn’t bother to listen in on them and instead turned back to where he came from and entered the labs next to the landing pad with the best view over the lake after a swipe of his keycard. The music, which had played until the glass door opened in front of him, stopped as soon as he stepped into the spacious room, equipped with the best of the best—at least, he assumed it because he didn’t know a single thing by name or function in his line of sight.

Tranquility found its way into his constantly working and often haunted mind, letting the tension in his shoulders disappear like snow at the sight of spring’s first sunshine, and he finally was able to take a deep breath, even before his eyes found a messy mop of hair peeking between screens and equipment.

“If you think you need to drag me out for another unnecessary father-daughter lunch date, you can immediately turn on the spot and move your ass out of here agai—…”

Her sentence ended as she looked up and saw him standing in the middle of her sacred space instead of her father. Bucky could see how her eyes widened a fraction, only a second, before a radiant smile crept onto her already pretty face. “James,” YN greeted him with the same tone she always used when talking to him—always so incredibly soft as if he was something precious she needed to protect. He didn’t think he was or that he even deserved an ounce of her kindness and gentleness, but he couldn’t keep his distance either.

“Hey, doll.” The nickname had started to slip naturally some time ago, but gladly, YN never seemed to hold any objections against it. Quite the opposite because he could always hear her heartbeat increasing while her cheeks blushed adorably. He could witness it just now, and that made him smile the first genuine smile since going on that mission. “What can I do for you? Is everything alright?” He remembered again with what excuse he had found his way into her presence and nodded, shame practically swirling in his body. “Uhm… I think something isn’t right with-with the arm,” Bucky managed to get out and felt even more ashamed at the sight of worry creeping up into her mesmerizing eyes, which had captured him since she first had laid them on him. “Oh, fuck. Okay, okay. We’ll get this fixed, yeah? I’m so sorry if it hurts or if the mission was at risk or if it troubled you or—…”

YN only stopped her rambling apology the moment she had reached him, and Bucky had gotten a soft hold of her hand. “It’s alright, doll. Really. Everyone came back without a scratch.” Except for your mind, the voice inside his head tauntingly whispered, but her touch was fast to silence it again. “Well, okay. Still, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have let you wear it without running some last tests after the transport from Wakanda.” The soldier followed her lead and tenderly squeezed her fingers, still entangled with his, as he sat on the chair she pulled out for him. “Actually, it’s nothing major. Probably have to still get used to it.”

It was a masterpiece she had crafted for him with the assistance of Shuri and the Wakandan materials, reminding him once more why he didn’t deserve this woman.

Her soft hands helped him out of his combat gear, leaving him with a bare chest in her labs, making him almost regret it. Bucky never liked it when she saw the many ugly scars and the deformed tissue that once was his left shoulder. But the moment her gentle fingers started to trace along the edge of his new arm where it was connected to the new prosthetic head, those thoughts almost entirely vanished, and his mind was only able to capture every angle and every expression of her face as she started to do her work.

“It looks good, great even. Almost… perfect.” Her whispering voice sounded as if YN was in a trance as her eyes wandered over every inch of his shoulder and the arm now resting in her hands, making him feel every single touch. “How’s the haptic feedback? Can you still feel…this?” He tried to look, but with a laugh, YN stopped him from moving his head by cupping his chin with her fingers. “No, don’t look. That’s not how those questions work. Your brain would tell you you feel something even if it’s not the case,” she grinned while Bucky thought his heart would explode every second at the even closer proximity of their faces.

At least he knew he wasn’t the only one realizing it, and a grin started to tuck at his lips. “Again. Do you feel this?” YN started to trace indecipherable patterns on his arm’s black and gold-infused vibranium, letting shiver after shiver run down his spine. “I never was good at guessing letters written on me,” the soldier mumbled, eyes almost entirely closed, imagining the sight of her fingertips tracing his arm wrapped around her middle in the morning light. “That’s okay.” Her words were just as quiet as his, and the sudden feel of her soft, warm lips pressing a gentle kiss to his temple made him gasp for air like some kind of unkissed boy whose crush took the first step in their own hands. His eyes shot open, and Bucky was faced with YN’s face and a tender smile playing around her lips. “You could’ve told me that nothing really was amiss, you know? I’m the last person who’d judge. I thought we already went past that.”

Swallowing, Bucky shrugged his shoulders and took the black shirt out of her hands after YN had handed it to him. “Steve said he would need your approval so I thought… No, wait. I didn’t really think. I’m… Shit, I’m sorry, doll.” Now he felt even worse than upon entering her safe space and bothering her with his nonsense, but as both her hands cupped his neck, he couldn’t hold back and wrapped his hands around her tiny-seeming wrists. “You never need to apolgize for coming here, James. I love your company. You’d never be a bother or a hassle or a nuisance, so stop thinking that.”

His eyes widened at that last comment, and YN shrugged, an embarrassed expression settling on her face. “It’s harder for me to shut your or anyone’s thoughts out when they trip into that direction. Sorry for prying and invading, and—…”

He shut her up by taking a leap of faith and kissed her.

***

Send me prompts!

#elle’s askbox #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x fem!reader #bucky barnes x female!reader #bucky barnes x stark!reader #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes oneshot #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fic #james barnes x reader #james barnes x fem!reader #james barnes x female!reader #james barnes fic #james barnes fanfic #james barnes fanfiction #james barnes fluff #prompt writing #prompt request

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a-small-batch-of-dragons · 8 months

Text

Starved

*materializes into existence*

Hey :D

[beware, this is long]

Idk if you're doing prompts rn (if not, that's okay; remember to take care of yourself). But if you are, may I request some Creativitwins h/c? – oatmeal-stans-the-trash-rat [i'm not putting the whole req here just cause she LONG]

Read on Ao3

Warnings: starvation, intrusive thoughts, panic attacks, body horror (sort of), nightmares

Pairings: none

Word Count: 4250

For Remus, tending to the nightmare realm is just another chore. Eldritch monstrosities, terrifying landscapes, that's just how it is.

But when a new destination appears one night as he's going about his rounds, well, he has to stop in to investigate. What he finds is a horrifying town that has an almost cult-like relationship with hunger. One of the Sides, clearly, suffers from a particularly terrible strain of intrusive thoughts, but who?

"I mean, it just makes sense, really."

Roman snarls, throwing himself against the invisible barrier, but it shimmers mockingly as he's forced to claw and screech in vain, soundless behind its impassable force. On the other side, close enough that he could reach out and touch him—so close, so fucking close—Remus smiles.

"Of course," Logan says softly, reaching out to cup Remus's face as though he's precious, "the Creativity unbound by the shackles of expectation, what else could we hope for?"

"And the passion!" Patton claps his hands, each one making the barrier thunder against Roman's palms. "Where else are we going to find someone with this much drive and motivation?"

"I know, maybe we'll actually see finished products once in a while," Virgil snickers, playfully elbowing Remus in the ribs as a dagger lodges itself in Roman's side.

He howls in pain, still scrabbling at the wall, but it's no use; Remus isn't even looking at him anymore, no one is, they're all too focused on each other, on how perfect Remus fits in now that they're stopping to look at it, and that's what he wants, that's good, he missed his brother so much, he wants him back, he wants him back, he just wants—he wants—

But he's a fool, and he didn't specify that he's selfish enough to want to keep both things.

And now, as he watches Remus pulled into Patton's arms, as he watches Logan smile gently and ruffle his hair, as he watches Virgil grin and rub his hands together gleefully, as he watches Janus turn to look at him—

Janus stares at him through the barrier, a smirk playing on his lips. But it's not a cruel smirk, not a malicious smile, it's the crooked smile every hero has just as they deliver the last quip of the movie.

"Oh, Roman," he whispers, even as his words ring in Roman's ears, "thank god you don't have a mustache."

Roman wakes up.

He's shaking. He's burning under the sheet. He's panting like he's run for his life. He's frozen. He can't move. Why should he move? The barrier will stop him. Wait, no, that's when he's asleep. He's not asleep anymore. He's not, is he? He's so cold. He's so hot. He's so scared.

God, he's so scared.

But why is he so scared? Is it the fact that Remus was accepted? How awful is he, to be scared of that? To be scared that if they find out how wonderful Remus truly is—and he is, Remus is so, so, so wonderful, he is and Roman loves him—that they'll want to keep Remus and get rid of him? That's awful of him! He's not supposed to be scared of his brother being accepted, he's supposed to look forward to it! He's not—he's not—

He's crying, isn't he? That's why he's still shaking. He's scared. He's scared and he's awful and he's crying, why is he crying? What right does he have to cry? Crying is for people who are hurting and deserve comfort. What comfort does he deserve? Because his Imagination conjured up some horrifying reality for him, so horrifying that he got to watch his brother finally get the love and acceptance he deserves and the natural consequences of it? What right does he have to demand comfort after that? He doesn't. He should stop crying. He should stop. Right now.

Oh, god, he can't stop crying.

He's still hurting. His chest is still burning. Why can't he breathe properly? This is stupid; if he's going to be as selfish and needy as he is, he should at least be breathing properly. He can't pretend to be anything other than helpless, can he, that he would steal the air from others' lungs and then not have the decency to breathe it properly? How cruel of him. How unjust of him. How awful he must be.

He should be locked behind a barrier. He should be pushed far away from everyone else. Then he couldn't hurt them. Then his hurt would only hurt him. Then he could be as messy and needy and selfish as he had to be and he would only cause himself pain. That was right. That was better. He should—he should have—should he have realized this years ago? How awful he is, how much he deserves to be put behind a barrier?

The room is closing in. The walls are getting closer. His bed is shrinking. The blankets are pressing him down into the floor, he can't breathe, he can't breathe, he can't breathe—

He can't hear anything. Oh, god, has it happened already? No, no, he wasn't ready—he was just thinking about it, that didn't mean he wanted to go right now—no, he wants one last chance to say goodbye, he's sorry, he's sorry, he's so sorry—

It's so cold.

***

Remus whistles under his breath as he steers the little rudder on the wooden dinghy, around the desecrated shell of some great eldritch beast. He gives the scale an absentminded pat as he drifts by, resolving to come back and check on it later. Perusing his nightmare gallery never did get old, but as far as dreams went, there were certainly better ones to be had. After all, hardly anyone wants to go to work as soon as they fall asleep.

"Win some, lose some," he remarks to the bear cub sitting in the bottom of the boat next to him. The bear cub growls low in its throat and gnaws on a spare bone. "Atta boy."

As he turns to go back towards the mainland, he catches sight of something rising up out of the water to his left. Looking over, he blinks in surprise to see a skeletal forest framing a new mouth of the river, long and jagged shadows reaching out over the water's surface. Frowning, he steers the boat over there, watching as the trees coalesce to form the silhouette of a starving bear. His bear cub lets out a low snuffling noise and shifts closer to his leg. He rubs its head and frowns as they drift under the bear's snarling mouth.

"Do you know what this is?" The bear cub huffs. "Huh. Me neither."

Surprisingly enough, the river ends at a seemingly normal dock. Well, normal for everyone else, in here, that's a little strange. Crowds mill about, each talking gruffly to their immediate neighbor, and someone throws Remus a small rope to tie off his dinghy. He does, the bear cub lingering close to his heels as he starts to walk into the town. Thankfully, he's not in his costume, but a set of plainclothes that he quickly shuffles around to hide the eldritch goo.

The air swirls with a strange miasma, not quite visible enough to put his finger on, but—there's something here. A feeling, almost, a terrible energy that permeates everything he can see. Most wear some sort of face covering, a scarf pulled up over their mouths, or hats worn so low he can only see glimpses of their chin. Those that don't are haggard, bone-weary, with eyes sunken and pulsating deep within their sockets. He can see what should be market stalls hanging their striped banners, but nothing looks to be on sale.

"Good thinking," he hears a raspy voice to his side, and he turns to see a crew of urchins smirking and huffing at him, "having a cub for you, or you for the cub."

His cub—he looks down to see where the cub should've been only to see it's wandered off, sniffing at something, and now whining and growling as a group of long-fingered strangers inch towards it, their mouths open. He whistles sharply and the cub turns tail and runs back to him, gnawing gently on his pants leg.

"Stay close," he bids under his breath as they keep walking, "I don't know what's going on here."

He keeps walking. The bustling streets fade quickly into tiny alleyways, each blocked off by a different makeshift wall that looks like it's designed to be lifted back and forth, a strange gate of sorts. Big, bulky things, the kind that would take at least two strong people to lift. He glances around at the twig-thin limbs and skeletal muscles he can see of the few people that aren't wearing big coats and proper clothes. As he nears one, he frowns. It's made of what looks to be old hide, bound and lashed together with something, but what could possibly be—

A low moaning and the murmur of a crowd.

He turns again, his cub at his side, looking for the source of the commotion. Down the main street a ways, at the mouth of presumably another alley, he sees a group of people peering at something. With one hand tangled in the fur at the cub's neck, he walks over and shoulders his way in to see what's so fascinating.

His eyes widen.

An old man, an old man, who looks barely alive save for the hysterical zeal in his eyes, is hobbling after something rolling along the ground. Every time he's about to pick it up, one of the men in some sort of uniform comes up and kicks it further away from him. The thing rolls through all manner of filth and still the old man hobbles after it. A sick sort of fascination takes hold of Remus's stomach—he should put a stop to this, shouldn't he?—but he finds himself paralyzed, only able to hold his bear cub close.

As the man continues to hobble, he lets go of his cloak. His ribs stand out starkly, each vertebra of his spine clearly visible, and someone in the crowd quickly snatches it up, hoarding it to their chest as a few squabble for it until the uniformed man barks at them to settle down. The man hobbles on, undeterred.

Another shadow lengthens on the ground.

Remus is one of the few that turn to look.

Another man, tall and whip-thin, with an ashen-gray face and monstrous dignity, walks slowly after the pair. His coat, fasted together with large gold buttons down the length of him, flutters in the breeze as though he would blow away at any moment. His hands, the same ashen color as his face, clasp in front of him. A gold signet ring gleams from his finger.

Who, Remus thinks as he clutches the bear cub, who has the sense to be utterly silent, the fuck do you think you are?

"Do you see," the man whispers, his voice picking through the crowd as a centipede picks through the undergrowth on the forest floor, "how desperate we become if we are slaves to our hunger?"

The man in uniform kicks the thing through a puddle that Remus is going to believe is water. The older man still hobbles after it.

"How low our standards become, how quickly we become nothing but beasts, savage and primitive? And how unhappy we are…" The gold signet ring catches another flash of light. "And we are never sated once we give into the need to feed."

The old man finally catches the thing. It drips and cracks with who knows what and still he shoves it in his mouth as though it were the finest feast in all the land. As the crumbs and sludge drip down his face, Remus realizes that it once might have passed for bread.

"And look," says the man as the old figure lets out a howl of despair, "it is never worth the price it takes to feed it."

For even that short hobble seems to have sapped the last of the life force from the old man's wheezing lungs and he keels over right there, still moaning and twitching as the bread rolls limply away from his hands. The uniformed man stands over the corpse and raises a whistle to his lips.

"We are the masters of our own hunger," drones that fucking whisper as many-limbed shadows materialize from the other end of the alley, "until it becomes master of us."

The crowd turns away in shocked horror as the spider-shadow-demon beasts fall upon the corpse. Remus watches the man impassively observing it, idly toying with that fucking golden ring. Then, as if Remus were invisible, he turns and walks back into the crowd, the beasts scuttling after him.

"So," Remus murmurs to the bear cub who was thankfully too short to see any of that, "that was fucking weird."

This isn't one of his. Obviously, because then he would've known what the fuck to expect. As it stands, he can only drift to a somewhat abandoned corner and stare around, trying to discern who this might belong to.

Hunger, that was clearly a theme here. Starvation, almost, given how little food there seems to be and how everyone keeps looking at his bear cub. But a culturally enforced starvation, given by the weird cult vibes of the creepy dude with the ring—a religious figure, maybe? And some nonsense about being masters of hunger, so clearly there was prestige given to being hungry but not giving into it. Those who outwardly expressed their hunger being shamed—well, shamed and humiliated and executed for it.

The bear cub whimpers and Remus crouches down, letting it snuffle into his neck as he strokes its shoulder. A cart drives by with a fancy-looking crest on one side and he squints to make out 'By the Grace of N. Schaumburg' as it passes.

"That must be creepy dude," he murmurs as the bear cub growls, "yeah? What do we think, who's hungry?"

He looks around again. Despite the fact that it's pretty mild weather, everyone's bundled up as though it were the dead of winter. Those that don't wear thick heavy coats huddle together, shivering, mindless mumbling coming from the groups. If he listens closely enough, he can just make out the words, but they don't make any sense.

The bear cub whuffs and tugs on his sleeve.

"What?"

The cub sniffs at a piece of paper blown closer to them. Remus picks it up. It's a pamphlet of some sort with the same crest, announcing an earlier enforced curfew. On the back is a short verse.

Selfishly feed and forever go hungry.

Free and unshackled by hunger are we.

Feeding the beast is an endless task.

Embrace the hunger and be free at last.

"Free from what," Remus whispers to the cub as he finishes reading, "having a body with needs?"

The cub just whines. Remus rubs its head and pockets the pamphlet, standing up slowly and looking around. Okay, so definitely shame associated with needing to feed, something about trying and failing to sate the hunger only leading to it growing, okay…definitely more guilt flying around here than he'd like but they were raised Catholic, so that's not completely unbelievable…

"You there." The uniformed man from before jerks his head at the cub. "What's with the animal?"

"'S my emotional support bear."

The man frowns. "Your what?"

"Nasty business," Remus says instead, nodding toward where the corpse used to be, "does that happen often in this part of town?"

"Not as often as it used to, population's getting better. Since Schaumburg came out with the pills instead of the rations it's been easier to keep the worst of them down." The man glances behind him. "Still. There'll always be a few of them."

"Is that why the new curfew's been enacted?"

"Well, it always gets worse at night, you know. That's when all the rational thought leaves these people and they start scrabbling about for something to feed on. Makes it easier to manage if they're all already indoors, you see."

Okay, so something about not being around others at night, okay, who do we know that's been skipping out of things lately?

"And I've never seen him around either," Remus says, lowering his voice a bit as he nods toward the direction that creepy dude went off in, "is that normal around here too?"

"Oh, Schaumburg doesn't normally come out—" bingo— "but with all the panic about that cold front last night, well…I guess he thought it was necessary."

Cold front last night, cold front last night…what happened last night?

It was movie night last night. Did someone get freaked out by the movie? But it was The Sea Beast, it had cleared everyone's trigger list, everyone had enjoyed it, was that the problem? Or was it something else?

"Now, you seem like a nice enough man—" Remus tries not to take offense, this seems like a good thing in this case— "so I'll just let you off with a word to the wise: get that bear of yours registered with an approved tag or someone's liable to tear it apart, you hear?"

Remus just nods as the official turns away. He looks down at his cub, who's all but cuddling his leg, and glances around.

Several people hug their cloaks or bags close to their chests. A few more stand so close their arms are near around each other as the carts and wagons drive by. A parent tucks their child into a fold of their coat. He remembers the feeling of being snuggled on the couch and how cold it had been when he got up to get a drink. He pulls out the pamphlet and looks closely at the crest, fingers tracing an upside-down crown with teeth mangling the metal.

As if on cue, he hears Roman scream.

***

Virgil huffs, turning over in bed. Remus must be busy tonight; his mouth's been filled with bitter-tasting grossness all evening. Every now and again he gets this awful roaring emptiness in his stomach and he just wants to sleep. He's almost ready to storm down there and tell him to knock whatever he's doing off, it can wait until tomorrow, when he suddenly hears someone scream.

That's…not what Remus's screams sound like.

***

Remus shakes himself awake, grabs his trusty teddy bear, and sinks right into Roman's room. Immediately he's prying Roman's hands away from his face, letting out these soothing little noises and trying to get his attention.

"Hey, hey, Roro, shh, shh, it's okay, c'mere." Roman gasps and shakes and Remus leans in to kiss his forehead. "Hey, hey, c'mon, Ro-Bro, it's just me. It's just me, hey, can you look at me?"

"Re?"

"Yeah, Roro, it's just me, it's just me. Hey, you're doing so good, can you listen to my voice? Just listen to me, I'm right here, we're in your room, we're safe, you're safe, we're all okay." He nudges the teddy bear into Roman's lap and nuzzles it under Roman's chin. "See? All good."

Roman's hands are shaking and in the distance, Remus hears the echo of Schaumburg's voice. He growls and reaches out, taking Roman's hands and looping them around his neck, pulling his brother into a cuddle.

"Hey, Roro, you stay right here with me. Can you do that? Can you hold onto me?"

"It's so cold, Re—it's so—so cold—"

"Shh, it's okay, you can be warm now. I'm warm, right?"

"You're so warm—how are you so warm—"

"Come steal all my warmth, okay? Come steal all of it, it's all for you, I'm gonna give it to you." Remus tucks Roman's head under his chin and rocks him slightly back and forth. "There, there you go, shh, shh, it's okay, Roro."

"I'm sorry," Roman gasps out and Remus's chest aches, "I'm sorry, I'm awful, I'm so sorry!"

"You're not awful, Roro. Nope, no disagreeing," he says softly as Roman opens his mouth to protest, "you're not awful. You had a really fucked up nightmare and your intrusive thoughts are way too loud but you're not awful."

Roman freezes. "You—you saw it?"

"I didn't see your nightmare, no, but I—your intrusive thoughts made a place in my nightmare realm and I saw that."

"I'm so sorry—"

"Hey," Remus murmurs, pulling him back enough to cup his face and make him look at his eyes, "don't apologize for the shit your brain does, okay? You're safe here with me. I'm gonna be right here, okay? I got you."

To his dismay, Roman's lower lip trembles and big tears bubble at the corners of his eyes again. "B-but I—"

"Roman?" That's Virgil's voice, why the fuck is he—oh, right, panic. "Princey?"

"Hey, shh," Remus soothes as Roman tries to hide in the lea of him, "hey, it's okay. I won't let him hurt you."

"Remus? Is that you?"

"Yeah. What do you want?"

"I heard the scream, I've been feeling his panic—look, I don't wanna shout through the door, can I come in?"

"Can he?" Roman takes a little too long to nod but he does. "Yeah, Virgil, get in here."

Virgil slips through the door and takes one look at Remus hovering protectively over his brother and immediately changes into the softest hoodie and sweatpants he has. He crouches down so it's easier for Roman to look at him and his voice drops to a low rumble.

"Hey, Princey," he says gently as Roman turns to look at him, "seems like you're having a real rough time right now, can I come help?"

"S-sorry."

"It's okay, bud, I'm not mad. You're gonna be okay. I just wanna help."

"I won't let him hurt you," Remus whispers, rubbing his back, "you're safe here."

It takes another long moment, but Roman slowly reaches out a hand and Virgil takes it, letting Roman draw him onto the bed. He joins Remus in rubbing up and down Roman's back, gently carding his fingers through his hair.

"Hey, Princey," he murmurs, still speaking softly, "you have a bad dream? Yeah? You wanna talk about it?"

Roman shakes his head.

"Can I ask Remus what's going on? Yeah? Thanks, bud."

Remus sighs, letting Roman cuddle into him. "He's not been having a good time recently, what with…everything going on. I think Patton and Janus blowing up about selfish stuff got into his head and Logan's whole…deal about rising above what he calls 'base' needs isn't helping."

"…yeah, shit, that sounds—that's not great."

"And, you know, being insulted and belittled every time he opens his mouth isn't helping either," Remus adds, glaring at Virgil as he winces.

"I know. I—fuck."

"Yeah. So be really fucking careful right now."

"Hey, Roman," Virgil calls softly, giving Roman the gentlest shake to get his attention, "hey, Princey, can you look at me for a second?"

Roman's head peeks out and Virgil smiles, reaching out to wipe a tear from his cheek.

"Hey, there, bud. You're okay. Was what Remus said right, are you—is shit a little too much right now?" Roman nods. "You want some reassurance, or do you just want us to be here?"

"'M sorry," Roman mumbles, "'m not—'m not trying to be needy."

"You're not being needy, Princey, you're upset and you want to be comforted. That's not needy."

"Or selfish either," Remus says when fucking Schaumburg starts whispering again, "you're allowed to want things and have them. That's not something to be ashamed of or feel guilty for."

"Shit," he hears Virgil mutter under his breath before there's another set of arms around Roman, "no, Princey, you're not bad for wanting things. Is this—I'm sorry I didn't realize it sooner. I shouldn't have left you alone for movie night last night either."

Right. Right, everyone else had cuddled up on the couch and Roman had arrived later when there was no room—fuck, Roro, I'm so sorry.

"It's okay, bud, you're okay. You're okay, you're safe, we're not going anywhere."

"I'm sorry," Roman cries out, hiding his face in the teddy bear, "I'm not—I'm trying, I'm trying, but it's so cold, I'm sorry—"

"Don't be sorry for wanting," Remus scolds lightly, glancing at Virgil who nods and starts gathering the blankets, "you're allowed to want things. And you just had a nightmare, that's an automatic you-get-cuddles-now. We can figure everything else out tomorrow, okay?"

Finally, finally Roman sniffles and looks up at both of them. "You guys really don't mind?"

"Nope!"

"Nah," Virgil says, ruffling his hair, "come cuddle, Princey."

As they all start to get ready to fall back asleep, Remus makes eye contact with Virgil. Virgil nods as Roman starts to doze—poor Roro, he must be so tired—and they close their eyes together.

***

Remus's bear cub growls lightly at Virgil as they reappear in the abandoned corner, but he pats its head. "He's a friend, it's okay."

"Yeesh," Virgil mutters, looking around, "this whole place feels like panic attack, is it always like this?"

"Roman's just really not having a good time right now. Just be glad you weren't here earlier."

"You know what, I'm not even gonna ask." Virgil takes a deep breath and tugs a little on his jacket, glancing around. "So! What's the plan?"

"I'm feeling like some anti-government arson and a side of political assassination, how about you?"

"Let's go start a riot."

The bear cub growls, swelling and growing until it's the size of a nearby wagon and Remus grins.

We gotcha, Roro. Sweet dreams.

General Taglist: @frxgprince@potereregina@gattonero17@iamhereforthegayshit@thefingergunsgirl@awkwardandanxiousfander@creative-lampd-liberties@djpurple3@winterswrandomness@sanders-sides-uncorrect-quotes@iminyourfandom@bullet-tothefeels@full-of-roman-angst-trash @ask-elsalvador @ramdomthingsfrommymind@demoniccheese83@pattonsandershugs @el-does-photography @princeanxious@firefinch-ember@fandomssaremysoul@im-an-anxious-wreck@crazy-multifandomfangirl @punk-academian-witch@enby-ralsei@unicornssunflowersandstuff@wildhorsewolf @thetruthaboutthesun @stubbornness-and-spite @princedarkandstormv @your-local-fookin-deadmeme @angels-and-dreams@averykedavra @a-ghostlight-for-roman @treasurechestininterweb @cricketanne @queerly-fluid-fan @compactdiscdraws@cecil-but-gayer@i-am-overly-complicated@annytheseal@alias290@tranquil-space-ninja @arxticandy @mychemically-imbalanced-romance@whyiask@crows-ace @emilythezeldafan@frida0043 @ieatspinalcords @snowyfires@cyanide-violence@oonagh2@xxpanic-at-the-everywherexx@rabbitsartcorner @percy-07734@triflingassailantofmyemotions @virgil-sanders-the-gay-emo@cerulean-watermelon@puffed-up-bees@meltheromanstan@joyrose-fandomer@insanitori@mavenmush@justablah65@10paradox10@uhhh-hi-there-i-am-nervous@cutebisexualmess@bella-bugatti-frogetti-baguetti@ultrageekygirl

#sanders sides #roman sanders #roman angst #virgil sanders #remus sanders #sympathetic remus #dragonbabbles #fic

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grits-galraisedinthesouth · 11 months

Text

Sussex Brand VICTIM

Follow the link Rebecca is tweeting...

Prince Harry was quiet and sounded nervous as he stated his name “Prince Harry” and swore an oath on the bible in the witness box

I’ve never heard a barrister have to explain to the court the protocol on how to address a witness… “Your Royal Highness” in the first instance, then “Prince Harry”

Prince Harry says decision to “reluctantly” step back from Royal role was in large part “due to the constant intrusion, inciting of hatred & harassment by the tabloid press into every aspect of our private lives, which had a devastating impact on our mental health and wellbeing”

Prince Harry writes in his witness statement “How much more blood will stain their typing fingers before someone can put a stop to this madness.” He explains the comment was directed more broadly at the tabloid press rather than specific Mirror Group Newspaper journalists.

Prince Harry’s witness statement is 55 pages long. He writes… “What I complain of here is illegal or unlawful, and that is something which I feel incredibly strongly about.”

I genuinely feel that in every relationship that I’ve ever had – be that with friends, girlfriends, with family or with the army, there’s always been a third party involved, namely the tabloid press.”

It created a huge amount of paranoia in my relationships. I would become immediately suspicious of anyone that was named in a story about me I felt that I couldn’t trust anybody, which was an awful feeling for me especially at such a young age.”

I feel somewhat relieved to know that my paranoia towards my friends and family had, in fact, been misplaced, although feel sad for how much it impacted my adolescence.”

In his witness statement #PrinceHarry makes several references to his late mother #PrincessDiana “There are even eight private investigator payments made in relation to my mother, which I have only learnt of since bringing my claim. This makes me feel physically sick.”

The Duke of Sussex singles out Piers Morgan for criticism

The thought of Piers Morgan and his band of journalists earwigging into my mother’s private and sensitive messages (in the same way as they have me)…

and then having given her a “nightmare time” three months prior to her death in Paris, makes me feel physically sick and even more determined to hold those responsible, including Mr Morgan, accountable for their vile and entirely unjustified behaviour.”

“As a consequence of me bringing my Mirror Group claim, both myself and my wife have been subjected to a barrage of horrific personal attacks and intimidation from Piers Morgan, who was the Editor of the Daily Mirror between 1995 and 2004

presumably in retaliation and in the hope that I will back down, before being able to hold him properly accountable for his unlawful activity towards both me and my mother during his editorship.

The problem is that, over the last 15 to 20 years, there are now incredibly powerful media companies who masquerade as journalists and who have, quite literally, hijacked journalistic privileges for their own personal gain and agenda, It’s an unbelievably dangerous place.”

I am bringing this claim, not because I hate the tabloid press or even necessarily a section of it, but in order to properly hold the people who have hijacked those privileges, which come with being a member of the press, to account for their actions.”

I feel there’s a responsibility to expose this criminal activity in the name of public interest."

Prince Harry attempts to lighten to mood by quipping “you’ve got me doing a work-out” as the defence barrister repeatedly asks him to pull out the huge bundles of documents involved in this complicated case.

Prince Harry has been asked to raise his voice in court. The barrister for Mirror Group Newspapers, Andrew Green KC, jokes “not in anger I hope!”

https://www.itv.com/news/2023-06-06/prince-harry-in-high-court-in-case-against-mirror-publisher#Echobox=1686047163

#world wide privacy tour #sparry #strip the hrh #strip the titles #victims #megxit #fraud and fraudess #waaaagh #waaagh

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yukidragon · 1 year

Note

What powers do you think Jack has in the demo, and what other powers do you think he may have or want him to have in the full game?

I think that a lot of Jack’s powers are based off of empathy and thoughts, particularly when it comes to MC. I also think we haven’t seen the limit of what he can do yet.

There’s an unquestionable connection between Jack and MC. He cares about them, he needs them to need him, and if they start to draw away from him, his grasp on reality weakens.

In a way, Jack shares a lot in common with a tulpa, also known as a thoughtform, which is an independent entity brought into existence by the power of belief. Typically these start off as imaginary friends that gain their own sentience over time through the power of their creator’s belief. The person who imagined them into being desired their existence, and unless they can manage to detach themselves from relying on their creator, they can be snuffed out just as easily.

This fits a lot with the theme of comfort characters and why we need them, which is one of the inspirations for the plot of Sunny Day Jack. However, we do have evidence that Jack is more than a tulpa. He has memories of a past life beyond the character he’s playing as, and he knows lore about the character that MC is unfamiliar with. Heck, they didn’t even know about Sunny Day Jack or the show until they played the video tape.

We’ve seen hints that Jack can read MC’s thoughts and emotions, and some teaser art and comments from Sauce hinted that he can share their physical state as well, such as being drunk when MC is or experiencing period pain. While we can’t say for sure if this will be canon in the full game release, he did make a comment that suggested he literally felt their arousal towards him.

It also seems to work in the reverse. MC feels warm and happy when cuddling Jack, beyond the physical sensation of his body heat. Being with him makes them feel really good in general. When he starts feeling insecure though, he starts growing cold and distant from them, those golden feelings turning gray. They feel awful about leaving him to work, like they’re abandoning him when he needs them.

I think this empathy ratcheted up to a supernatural level. Jack feels MC’s emotions and vice-versa. This can make them both instinctively very drawn to make the other happy, as the other’s sadness causes them pain and distress similar to what they’re experiencing.

Then of course there are times when Jack literally comments on something MC was thinking about. In the “yes” route he even talks directly to them through the narration in red text, which implies that he’s speaking through thoughts, though it seems subtle enough that MC doesn’t realize it given they don’t acknowledge it at all.

In teaser art where Jack encourages a rival to kill themselves, it seems as though that it’s not a direct conversation. Rather, it’s not a situation where they try to say anything, but are looking at themselves in the mirror in distress. I think that Jack can use “intrusive thoughts” on other people, talking them in a way that seems more subconscious and indirect. These also can take the form of giving someone nightmares, as we saw in the ending with Nick.

It makes sense that if Jack can influence someone’s subconscious thoughts that he can give someone horrific nightmares, as our subconscious controls our dreams.

A lot of Jack and his powers seem to be based off subconsciousness and desire. He also seems to be growing stronger, as suggested by this speech of his.

Another power seems to be changing his appearance, and possibly manifesting entire items, such as the mysteriously appearing blueberries or new outfits. The current limitation is that only MC can see/interact with these things, such as his jacket, but if he eventually manages to give a villainous monologue to someone, I suspect that when he gets stronger he’ll be able to affect others in a similar way.

I think Jack will gain more power over time during the course of the game’s story, and I think it hinges mostly on how much MC loves/needs him. It might also be influenced by how many people are aware of his existence in general.

After all... Jack was forgotten, buried by a company that erased the memory of him and the whole show, silencing people under NDAs. It’s possible that the more people learn about the show, say from a reboot, the stronger he’ll become regardless of MC’s feelings.

Heck, it could even be that Jack was trapped in limbo of the tape due to so few people remembering him, and even then mostly just remembering him as Jack, even his co-workers. I doubt Joseph told them about his past considering he abandoned his former identity, so they would be more familiar with him as Jack’s actor.

As for other powers... MC observed that people seemed to conveniently exist around him. Maybe they were instinctively avoiding where he stood without realizing it. It would suggest that even at the start, he has a very slight affect on other people just by being present.

Although Jack can’t be seen by mirrors or other people, he seems very real to MC. He can converse with them, pick them up, have sex with them... He can also pick up objects considering he could cook food and clean dishes. He has a heartbeat and body fluids such as spit and sweat.

I think Jack’s trajectory as far as his powers are concerned is that he’s going to become more real to the world. At some point, I think he’ll be able to be perceived by other people on more than just a subconscious level, able to actually talk to them and be seen by them... and maybe touch them to, say, guide their hand to slit their own throat if they’re a threat?

Like a tulpa that’s gained independence from its creator, I think Jack might eventually become a person every bit as real as anyone else.

I think Jack’s ability to get in peoples’ heads makes him very, very dangerous and disturbing. He has a way with words, and if he can make people think these intrusive thoughts are their own? Well, that’s just weaponizing depression... and has the potential to drive people insane and to commit self-harm.

It also makes it harder for MC to escape the clutches of a yandere like Jack when things go down the more bad end routes. He makes them feel good to the point that they’re addicted to those good feelings. He gets inside their head, literally, and he can influence their thoughts. You can’t run away from someone if you want to stay with them after all, which can lead things down a very insidious path.

In the “no” route MC wants to be rewritten by Jack. He takes some part of them and fills that empty space with desire and need. It’s possible that he could go as far as brainwashing MC and others with his power, though fortunately that seems to be only something he uses on them as a desperate self-preservation tactic.

Other people though? If Jack gets strong enough, perhaps he could do the same to them.

In Jack’s speech, he mentioned a piece of him growing bigger. Combining this with him taking some part of MC, I think that there is some soul manipulation going on. I think he has a piece of his soul in MC and vice-versa, and he seems to be able to make that piece grow bigger with his power. This is pretty heavy conjecture of course, since this is very vague at the moment and it could be a part of their mind instead of their soul.

When talking with MC about Ian, they had a thought of just letting Jack take control. A second later everything goes black and they wake up the next morning in bed wrapped in his jacket. Some have speculated this is him possessing MC to literally take control of them, and I think that he might have that ability if they give him permission, consciously or subconsciously.

The fandom has been theorizing that Jack will be capable of possessing the other love interests at some point, especially when we saw teaser art of Ian dressed as Jack covered in blood. With the hints we have that it’s just Ian dressed as the part of a rebooted version of the character though, it calls into question if he actually has that ability.

I think it’s possible Jack might be able to possess people later on in certain routes. He’s reinvented himself before... so why not do it again if MC is trying to romance one of the other love interests?

I think that’s just about everything. I may have meandered around with this ramble, but that’s because we’ve only gotten hints of Jack’s powers at the moment. It’s possible he has more, or even that some of these suspicions are wrong. We’ll just have to wait for the full release of the game and see, but I have a feeling that Jack has more power than we realize, and it all hinges on MC's love for him and how badly they want him in their life.

@channydraws @earthgirlaesthetic @sai-of-the-7-stars @cheriihoney @illary-kore @okamiliqueur

#Sunny Day Jack #Something's Wrong With Sunny Day Jack #SunnyDayJack #sdj #swwsdj #Headcanon Ramblings #Ask

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copiousloverofcopia · 1 year

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How do you think the Papa's and Prime Movers would react to discovering one of their kids is the antichrist?

Thank you for the ask ghestie!!!!

SO.... under the cut because there are spoilers for Divine Cause and Holy Mary in case someone is reading them and NOT caught up.

Primo has already delt with this situation already in one of my fics and Terzo is currently as well so I will add links to those fics for others to find/read if interested but here are my general hcs for this situation!

Primo

{Divine Cause (NSFW)}

Primo is a bit awe struck, but honestly treats the situation like he would regardless of the knowledge. He always knew his child was special and will do everything in his power to help them reach their full potential when the time comes.

Secondo

Secondo is SO FUCKING PRIDEFUL. He is thrilled to be given such an honor. The highest and most esteemed privilege that a person in his position could ever hope to achieve. You can bet he will be walking around, chest puffed out and boastful over the situation. Nurturing his child to fulfil his destiny.

Terzo

{Holy Mary (NFSW)}

Terzo is confused. He feels out of sorts trying to figure out why out of all his siblings he was chosen to father the antichrist. He, like Copia, would worry about what this would mean for the child's future. He would be reluctant to usher them into their future knowing that it might mean bad things for them.

Copia

Copia is much more frightened at the prospect of fathering the antichrist than any of the others. He worries about what this will mean for his child, his Prime Mover, and himself. The magnitude of the situation sets his anxiety to an all-time high. He dreads the future. Frequently having nightmares and intrusive thoughts about what will come of his little one when they come into their power.

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nerves-nebula · 1 year

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me and raph (shaking hands) _. having intrusive thoughts

(tw for intrusive thoughts)

My parents never told me anything about how to regulate them or whatever, if I mentioned them my parents would be like "HA you're weird. leave me alone". I tried telling someone at school once or something but they stopped talking to me because it was "too bad" smh. Never really talked to anyone about them after, even though I get some really bad ones.

Mine are all about death and injury and basically just people or things getting hurt, or me suddenly dying (oh no you're crossing the street! let's imagine your process of dying now :] <- an example). And I have this weird thing where usually I can't visualize anything in my head, BUT intrusive thoughts do not follow that rule so I could be just chilling and get the only visual thoughts of that hour/day/week and it'll be all messed up and make me feel ill and like a horrible person.

The worse ones I had was when I was about 13ish where I'd get routine thoughts of drinking blood and stuff. Like, I don't know why? but sometimes I'll get intrusive thoughts about that and eating raw meat <- this does not help the accusations held towards me that I am a vampire. Partly why I never have told anyone, because I've been called one (derogatory) by many people for most of my life.

I used to also get intrusive thoughts when I was really young that would turn into nightmares, but those nightmares and intrusive thoughts would gang up and for a few days after the nightmare I'd be completely terrified and barely able to do anything without having a panic attack. I have NO CLUE what that was but I'm well acquaintance with the horrors .

Honestly the worst part of intrusive thoughts to me is getting to that point where you recognize they're getting worse/darker because you're getting almost desensitized to the intrusive thoughts. Like I don't want to hurt people or see people get hurt but my brain!! for some reason! does!??

ANYWAYS that's a long way of saying "I appreciate Raph having them and not being treated like a terrible person because of it"

YO I ALSO IMAGINE DYING NEARLY EVERY TIME I CROSS THE STREET!! except for that one time i wasnt paying attention and got hit by a car. it's either "no thoughts head empty" or "what if you died violently?'

mine are mostly about sexual abuse and sexual acts & all that. That and violent deaths/accidents. (first year of college wasn't great for this cause I had to use a lot of power tolls and would be afraid that I'd zone out thinking about my skin being torn off and my bones being cut and then it'd ACTUALLY HAPPEN it was awful)

but some of the elaborate ones are about me being alone forever because I am an unpleasant person to be around, and a Disgusting Beast of a creature :)

REGARDLESS: glad my AU can help you! The brothers are nice to Raph about it cause for the most part, they understand. Splinter probably wouldn't be so kind... good thing he doesn't know about it!

#nnstuff #ask #intrusive thoughts #child abuse tw #teenage mutant neglected turtles

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selfundiagnosed · 4 days

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One time i saw a tiktok on instagram that was the life of someone with intrusive thoughts and she was like “i should dye my hair” or some other impulse and this guy stitched it and was like hmm weird mine are more like “i should put my hand in this blender” and im like weird! youre both just experiencing impulsive thoughts not instrusive thoughts the modern dilution of psychobabble is so surreal..!!😭 one of U just experiences violent impulsive thoughts and the other has quirky ones. Neither are indicative of intrusive thoughts.. Intrusive thoughts are like having an omnipotent entity giving you flashes of images in your head of horrible things happening to you/your loved ones.. thinking “I should ___” is not an intrusive thought SHRUG sorry if that offends you or invalidates your violent impulses. its more like a horrible scenerio in which you would be so out of control that the thing would occur on accident. or would happen TO you. Its not an active conscious (albeit random) choice to be thinking about something. I should bite this chunk of lava (i know it would kill me but it seems satisfying to chomp into). and youre disturbed by the implications of dying trying to eat lava… it just isnt the same as an intrusive thought which is placed in your head by what feels like a secret 3rd party… and i fear this is why so many people think people with niche ocd subtypes MAKES you that thing. Why people are disgusted when they find out about pedophilia ocd. Gender identity ocd. Morality ocd. Saying you have intrusive thoughts about an awful timeline in which youre a pedophile or abuser means to them youre fantasizing about it because to the general population intrusive thoughts have been watered down to mean silly or even maybe insane impulses you know you shouldnt do but omg wouldnt it be sooo cool if you could do it just once with no consequences? in reality its as if your mind has conjured up your worst nightmare timeline without your control. It makes you become whatever you think society hates the most and this will be based on each person’s individual experiences navigating the world. Some real social taboos like being a rapist or imaginary ones based off cultural beliefs like being gay/transgender. All in all the dilution of this type of psychobabble effectively alienates mentally ill people from their own niche communities leaving us with no space to seek solidarity for our specific issues caused by our disorders. Sorry you think she isnt suffering because she has hair dye impulses and you have real impulses like put hand in blender but at the end of the day you guys both experience impulses like everyone else does. And heres the thing is we all experience intrusive thoughts like even neurotypicals they just dont present like “i should do x y z” that would be an impulse. they present like vivid gifs in your head like thats so raven style or maybe some other specific way that doesnt imply a conscious choice in whether youre acting on the thought or not. But im not Gd or your boss or your father so dont listen to me!

#it will forever annoy me people who misuse words with very specific connotations

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m3g4m1ndd · 1 year

Text

happy birthday ~

Authors note !!

(Joel is 34, you are 20, you just got cheated on by your shitty boyfriend and Joel is looking better than usual. and no, 1000 tales of lust by black women all over the world is not a real book, even though it should be.)

You wake up in a cold sweat, that same nightmare. It comes every other night and never fails to ruin your morning once you wake up. You’re definitely not the only person in this QZ that has nightmares about outbreak day, doesn’t make it any easier though.

You force yourself out of bed and get dressed, today you had a smuggling job with Omar. You sank back into bed; this was going to be awkward. Not only was Omar a huge dick, but you just caught his girlfriend sleeping with your boyfriend last night. You two did agree to let bygones be bygones, but you had a sneaking suspicion that isn’t gonna go over as planned.

You take time to water and have a conversation with your plants before you leave, talking with them helps them grow quicker! Or at least you think it does. A knock on the door interrupts your conversation, “Damnit, I told him 8 o’clock, it’s 7:26.” You explained to your plant, Diana, as you walked over towards the door. You flung the door open with aggression, ready to put Omar in his place. You nearly gasped when your eyes met Joel Miller.

You’d only heard stories about him, like he was some sort of myth. A mean, violent man with a permanent frown across his face. You hadn’t done any business with him so the possibility of him being there to bash your face in for ripping him off was slim. He gestured with his hands for you to let him inside and you did, not thinking about how irresponsibly dangerous it was.

“You and Omar are going on a run today, right?” Joel made himself comfortable, leaning against your counter.

“No.” You responded with confusion in your voice. “I don’t smuggle, and even if I did, it’s my birthday so I’d be taking off”

Joel scoffed, “You do know that I’m the main smuggler in this QZ, right? I smuggle in drugs from all over.”

You nodded, “That must be great business for you.”

Joel nodded, looking around the room. “Yea it is, what about you?”

“I don’t smuggle.”

Joel laughed, a breathy, unamused laugh. “Yeah? Where’d you get that?”

He pointed towards the painting on your wall, it probably didn’t make much sense to most, but Joel seemed to be in awe at it.

“I made that.” Even you had to stop and admire it, and you see it everyday. “With what?” Joel questioned you.

“Watercolor paint.”

Joel raised his eyebrows. “How’d you get that?” You humped your shoulders. “Bought it.”

“From?”

“A friend.”

“How’d they get it?”

“A friend.”

“How’d their friend get it?”

“Their sister.”

“How’d their sister get it?”

“A smuggler.”

“Which one?”

“I don’t know.”

Joel nodded, “Good to know you’re a good liar. I’m coming with you guys on this run, I get 70%, you both get 30%.”

“What?” You were so appalled, you dropped the act. “70/30? You weren't even supposed to be coming.”

Joel tilted his head, “Gotcha.” Damnit.

You sighed, “At least tell me the 70/30 thing is a joke.”

“Oh yeah, it’s 60/40.”

“40 for you, 60 for us, right?”

“No, 60 for me, 40 for you both.”

You were about to argue when you got a knock at the door, you approached the door cautiously and opened it. Omar. You stepped aside and allowed him to come in.

You spoke to him as he walked in. “You’re early, I’ve still got like 30 minutes.” You went to shut the door when someone put their shoe in it, preventing it from closing. You pulled the door back open in confusion, your boyfriend. What was he doing here? Your intrusive thoughts told you to run towards him and knock him off the railing, but instead you looked at him with a blank expression.

“Um… yes?”

“I’m uh-”

You should totally punch him in his throat.

“I’m coming on today's run.”

“Oh.”

You stepped out of the doorway to let him come in.

Joel cleared his throat, “You didn’t tell me there was someone else coming.”

Omar humped his shoulders.

Joel sighed, “Hold on... Aren’t you guys -”

You interrupted. “Alright, we should get going.”

You guys had finally made it, you reached for your gun and approached the building when Omar grabbed your shoulder.

“Let me go in.”

Your face scrunched in confusion, “What? Why? I always go in.”

“I know but… I think maybe you and Joel should keep watch while we go in.”

You threw your hands up in defeat and walked back over to Joel who seemed to have his eye on your boyfriend. You watched the men disappear into the building and the air fell silent.

“So, uh… you said it’s your birthday.”

“Mhmm.”

“How old are you?”

“20.”

“Hm.” Joel nodded.

“And you?”

“34.”

“Oh.”

The air fell silent again, but you were far too introverted to start another conversation. A cold chill ran through your body, and you could tell something wasn’t right.

“Joel?” You looked over at him to find him already staring.

“Yeah?”

“Never mind, I forgot.” You lied; you didn’t want the man to think you were insane.

“Too young to be forgetting things that quickly.”

“Yeah, I know.”

Once again, the silence creeped back in.

“I like your hair.”

You turned over to Joel, fighting the urge to smile.

“Oh, thank you. I like your hair too!”

Joel laughed, “Sure you do.”

“I’m serious! The salt and pepper thing looks good on you!”

“Salt and pepper?” Joel tilted his head in confusion.

“I don’t know, I saw it in this book I was reading.”

Joel chuckled, as did you.

“I know it’s like… black or brown with gray bits in it.’’

Joel nodded. “Alright then.”

You smiled, you were okay with the silence now. “What’s that book you were reading?” He asked to break the ice that somehow kept coming back.

“The salt and pepper one?” He nodded.

“Um…” Now, it’s not like you were lying about the book. You really did read that. You just weren’t necessarily sure how to tell Joel you read porn books for entertainment.

“C’mon, I don’t judge.” Joel nudged your shoulder.

“Are you- there’s no way you’re this open with everyone.” You attempted to change the subject.

“I’m not. But you seem interesting. So… book name?”

“Uh.. you- do you- are you gonna like.. read it or something?”

“Jesus, is it a playboy or something?” Joel chuckled, “Just tell me.”

“1000 tales of lust. Written by black women around the world.” You answered while looking at the ground.

Silence sat for a few seconds. ‘Volume 1.” You added.

“Oh.” Joel sounded embarrassed for you. “I didn’t know you were like -”

Joel stopped in the middle of his sentence, and then you heard it. A truck approaching. “Fuck.” Joel muttered to himself. “What’s the time?”

“12”

“AM or PM?” Joel asked frantically.

You narrowed your eyes, “Does it look like it’s 12am?”

Your smartass response ticked Joel off, but he was still looking to protect you. “Get behind me.” He ducked behind an old truck with his gun drawn, you did as he said.

You both listened as the truck stopped and what sounded like 3 FEDRA soldiers hopped out.

“You sure it was supposed to be happening here?”

“Yeah, the note told the guy to meet him here for the deal.”

“Ugh. Do we really have to chase down this guy? You know how many of our men die trying to do shit like this? People don’t play around about their drugs man.”

“Whatever.”

You tried to move closer to the edge of the truck to get a better look when Joel turned towards you with his hand out.

“I wanna see.”

You whispered, Joel rolled his eyes and quietly scooted you in front of him.

You looked around the corner, the FEDRA soldiers had their guns drawn and they were about to enter the building when one of them turned their head in your direction, you ducked back behind the car as he silently approached. His footsteps were soft, but you could still hear them getting closer.

Joel slowly reached for his gun, “When I say go, you run.” Joel whispered into your ear.

“What about Omar?”

“He’ll be fine.”

Joel closed his eyes as the truck creaked quietly as he repositioned himself and gestured for you to do the same. You and Joel locked eyes, his gaze was so mesmerizing. Your romantic moment was quickly shattered as Joel lifted himself in one quick motion and shot the approaching FEDRA soldier. “Go!”

You pushed yourself off the ground and ran for the top of the hill, you heard bullets fly back and forth but it wasn’t until you stopped for a split second to make sure Joel was okay that it happened. You felt a burning sensation as a bullet zipped past your side, then a bullet to your hip sent you tumbling back down.

You struggled to draw breath as you clutched your stomach, Joel yelled out your name, but you couldn’t respond. Everything was so… blurry?

You woke up with Joel standing over you, he let out a sigh of relief when he saw you were alright. The adrenaline had worn off and now your hip was aching, the pain made you groan out as you tried to get up from the couch.

“Don’t move.” Joel instructed, “You’ll just make it worse.”

You fell back onto the couch and put your hand over your forehead with a sigh.

“For what it's worth the bullet didn’t go through you. Grazed you real bad though.”

“Where’s Omar?”

“He just got back an hour or so ago.’’

You nodded as you fixed your gaze on the ceiling again.

“I guess you don’t care too much for the other guy.”

You sighed, “Nope. Not really.”

“Ex-boyfriend?”

You yawned as you tugged your arms into your shirt. “Nope, current boyfriend. Caught him with someone else yesterday though.”

Joel's eyebrows scrunched together in disapproval. “And you’re still with him because…?”

‘Not like I can do any better.”

Joel looked physically appalled. “What- what do you mean? Sure you can you’re- you’re a pretty girl.”

You smiled, ready to compliment him back when the front door swung open. You tried to lift yourself over the couch cushions to see who it was, you assumed it was Omar until you heard a woman’s voice.

‘’Joel, we needa go. Right now. Robert has an offer and-”

The woman walked around as she spoke and stopped mid-sentence when she saw you.

“Who’s that?”

Joel stood up from his chair, “The girl that’s been smuggling with Omar.”

She scoffed and whispered something to Joel, she walked off laughing but Joel didn’t seem to be amused.

“My hip feels fine, I can go.” You stood up from the couch and tried to reach for your bag when Joel stopped you.

“Stay here…please.”

You sank back onto the couch and Joel threw his bag over his shoulders, “I’ll only be a minute, birthday girl.”

Birthday girl.

You hadn’t even realized you’d drifted back to sleep, and your hip felt pretty good. You stood up and stretched, walking around Joel’s apartment for a while, you went into the bathroom to pee before Joel got back. You tapped your sneakers on the tile and your eyes fell upon something… shiny?

A condom wrapper, gross.

You finished up and walked over to the bedroom, you checked to make sure nobody was home before jumping onto the bed, it was so much fluffier than that crap you had back at your apartment. And the sheets… the pillows, they smelled just like him. While you sat in silence, you couldn’t help but wish Joel was wasting those condoms on you. You knew it was wrong to think of Joel in that manner, but you couldn't help it.

Thoughts of Joel, the way he must’ve carried you into the apartment in a panic and checked up on you, the way his heart must’ve skipped a beat when he saw your body hit the ground. If only he wasn’t so closed off, more importantly, so much older. Before you could even think about what you were doing, your hands were buried in your panties, fantasizing about Joel.

Your back arched as your imagination took you on a journey, what if Joel came back right now and saw you. Saw you with your pants at your ankles and your hand between your legs going to work. What if he told you to keep going, and told his lady friend to go do something, didn’t matter what, just some pointless task to get her out of the house for a few minutes so he could give you the fucking you deserve. Ugh, what if?

You grabbed your breasts as your hips bucked up into your hand, approaching climax. Your moans quickened and grew louder. So loud, you didn’t hear Joel’s boots approaching the bedroom. The door opened and you tried to cover yourself.

“Oh my-!” Joel turned his head out of the bedroom while you squirmed.

“Joel, I… I am so sorry.”

You apologized to him as you struggled to pull your pants back up.

“It’s… it’s fine.”

You looked up, Joel was red as ever. You stood up from the bed and approached Joel. “I’m really sorry. Let’s just forget this happened, yea?”

Joel smiled, eyes still wide as dinner plates. “I’m… I’m literally never going to forget that.” He chuckled.

You groaned, the moment was abruptly interrupted when the front door swung open.

“Your lady is home.”

“Tess.” Joel looked at the floor, he seemed upset the moment had to end.

“I should probably get going.”

Joel nodded.

“Night, Joel.”

“Night, Birthday girl.”

#joel miller #the last of us #joel miller x black!reader #joel miller x f!reader #part 1

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