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lincolndjarin · 3 months

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Every Now and Then - ch. two

[ And if You Only Hold Me Tight ]

pairing : joel miller x f!reader, platonicsoulmate!tommy & f!reader

word count : 9.3k

summary : you spend some time tommy, you spent some time with joel.

tags/warnings : 18+ mdni, angst, canon typical violence, language, panic attacks, violence, injury, wounds, possessive behavior, toxic relationships, animal death, i probs missed some i never know how to tag so lmk if i misses anything !!

a/n : this took so long and i dont even know it its good so i'm deeply sorry about that.

ao3 .𖥔 ݁ ˖ series masterlist .𖥔 ݁ ˖ main masterlist .𖥔 ݁ ˖ kofi

Now - JACKSON, WYOMING : 2023

“It’s nice to meet you Ellie.” You hold your hand out across the table to her, offering your own name up in the process, noticing an incredulous look in her eyes as you say it. Of course she doesn’t shake it, you’ve worked with enough survivors her age to know how they think.

She doesn’t trust any of this, and you can’t blame her. Every single thing she’s seen since arriving here is too good to be true, she’s waiting for the other shoe to drop. That’s okay, you can be patient. She just needs to learn how to be a kid again. When she makes no attempt to move you pull your hand back, your smile never wavering. You’ve met kids in much worse condition than this, you can work with this.

“Why don’t you tell me a little bit about yourself, Ellie.” You set the notebook you��d been writing in back down onto the table, you don’t want this to feel like an interrogation for her, it needs to be a conversation or you won’t get any of the information you need.

“Like what?” She’s slouched down into the chair, her arms crossed across her chest. She has her defenses up, she has spent her entire life protecting herself, she isn’t going to stop just because a stranger offered her a mug of tea. A mug of tea that she has notably not touched.

“Anything you want to, or I could ask some specifics if you’d like.” You take a sip of your own tea, hoping it might show her it’s safe. She only hums in response, you decide it might be for the best if you just ask her what you need to know. “Let’s start with a few easy ones, how old are you?”

“Why do you need to know?”

“We need to assess your health, what classes you’ll be put in, if you’ll be needing any feminine products. I promise, anything I ask is for your own good.” Seeing kids like Ellie is a painful reminder of just how lucky your own little ones are, it’s a wonder she made it this far. You can’t hold her skepticism against her, her distrust is why she’s still alive. “Would it help if we brought your father in? He’s just down the hall with Maria.” You aren’t sure why, you typically handle every stray but she had insisted on helping you out today. She’d spewed some sort of excuse about how Ellie might need some special attention but as far as you can tell she’s in the same state that most kids are in when they arrive.

“He’s not my dad.” She’s quick to say it, as if it’s a sore subject.

“May I ask his relation to you then?” Maria had told you she arrived with her father, you were told to expect one teenage girl and one man in his fifties.

“He’s… my friend?” She sounds unsure, unsure enough to ring alarm bells in your head.

“Honey, are you in a safe situation? We can help you if you need-” She doesn’t even let you finish your question before sitting up straighter.

“No, no, no, gross, it’s not like that, he’s not like that.” The look of disgust on her face brings you immense relief, this world is full of enough horrors for a young woman to face.

“Okay, I just wanted to make sure.” Even if she hasn’t been through that, she hasn’t had it easy, no one has. But there’s something distinct in her eyes. Loss. She’s seen more than enough of it, more than anyone her age should. Her eyes keep darting to the door, her head tilts in that direction every time someone walks by. She’s worried about her companion. She doesn’t want to lose him too. “I know none of this makes sense, and you have no reason to trust me but I need you to try Ellie. And if I ask you anything you aren’t comfortable with then you don’t have to answer but I need you to try, please. The faster we finish up here, the faster you can get back to your friend.”

She takes a moment, you’re practically holding your breath when she finally nods.

Perfect, you can work with a nod. You love a nod, a nod is all you need to help this girl.

“Let’s start with your age again.”

“Fourteen.” You’ll have to have a menstruation kit sent to whatever house they put her in, most people’s cycles start being regular once after a few months in Jackson.

“Thank you.” All you get is another nod yet you can’t help but smile. “Do you know where you were born?”

“No.” Her eyes are trained on your shoes, occasionally darting around the room but staying low for the most part.

“Where did you grow up?”

“The QZ.” The thought makes you sick for several reasons. The last place a child should grow up is the streets of a quarantine zone, even if she was in the FEDRA program it wouldn’t have been easy. The thought of any QZ still makes you queasy, even after this long.

“Which one?” Anywhere but Boston.

“Boston.” Of course. With your luck she would be. Someone’s far from home.

“FEDRA program?” As terrible as they are, they always keep the kids' vaccinations up to date, one less thing for you to worry about.

“Mhmm.”

“How old were you when you left?”

“Fourteen.” How the hell did she make it to Jackson all the way from Boston in such a short period of time? Why come to Jackson at all? There’s certainly other QZ’s between here and there, there’s probably other settlements too.

“Can I ask why you left?” It’s not a question you need to ask but your stomach is in knots at the mention of the Boston QZ and you can’t help yourself.

“I’d rather you didn’t.” Something flashes across her face, she isn’t trying to be rude, she simply doesn’t want to talk about it.

“That’s fine.” You don’t need to worry about it. She doesn’t know him. There’s no reason for her to know him. QZ’s house hundreds, if not thousands, of people. There’s no reason to spiral over nothing. “Do you have any allergies that you’re aware of?”

“Nope.” She makes a popping sound on the “P” as she leans back in the chair, trying to look relaxed despite how on edge she still is. You decide not to put anymore pressure on her, it won’t do you any good.

“How are you feeling physically? Any symptoms of illness?”

“Like infection?” You have to stifle a laugh, if she was infected the two of you certainly wouldn’t be sitting here right now.

“I’m not worried about that, I mean something more like a runny nose or a cough.”

“Oh. No.”

“Any skills in particular you’d like to learn? Our school system is a little less traditional than what you probably had with FEDRA.”

“I like science.” She sits up a bit, good, you’ve found something that piques her interest.

“Then I will make sure you’re enrolled in some science classes. But I meant skills like agriculture, construction, or veterinary care. Something you could learn about that interests you. You won’t be asked to help out around town until you’re sixteen but we like to let you explore different things to see what you like-”

“Could I learn how to shoot a gun?” She leans forward before you can finish your thought.

“You could apprentice some of the hunters, we could also have you trained for patrol and scavenging which involves gun safety and training courses. You’re a bit young for those but I’m sure I could ”

“Really?” You can tell by the inflection in her voice that she still doesn’t trust you entirely, even if she’s excited.

“Of course, you’ll probably be the youngest student in the training class but I’m sure you can handle it.” She needs something good in her life. You want to protect everyone who finds their way to Jackson but this girl makes your heart ache. Most adults you’ve worked with aren’t able to hold themselves together this long, putting on a brave face despite everything.

“Do you like burgers?” You almost cringe as you say it, hoping she’s had food outside of the synthetic shit FEDRA produces.

“I guess?”

“I’m having a little cookout tomorrow evening once everyone’s finished their work, it’ll be small, just me and some family but you’re welcome to join. You can bring your friend, I have two little ones you can play with. They might be a little younger than your usual friends but I promise they’re great company.” You swear she almost smiles, and suddenly you just want to make this poor kid smile. “You know, I’ve got a telescope in my garage, so if you stop by it’s all yours.”

“Seriously?”

“Absolutely, I’ve never even touched the thing so maybe you can put it to good use. Let me write down the house description for you, it isn’t too far from this building, you can stop in whenever you want tomorrow. There’s an empty house across the street as well, maybe I could show it to you, see if you like it.” You pencil it down, tearing the paper and handing it to her. This isn’t something you’d typically do but you can’t resist an opportunity to help her feel more at home here.

“Yeah, I mean that would be great.”

“Perfect.” You lean back in your chair. “What sort of hobbies interest you?” You’ll be in charge of putting together a welcome basket for her since Maria has marked her down as a permanent occupant.

“Reading, I like comics. And I used to draw a lot in the QZ.” Perfect, books are easy to find since Jackson was built around a small library.

“Okay then, I think that’s all I need from you for now but I’ll be around soon once you get housing settled. You can go join Maria and your friend if you’d like, I have to figure out what house we’re going to put you two in but I’ll be stopping by later with a few things for you.” That actually isn’t all you need from her, there are more questions on your mind, one specific question. Ask her what his name is.

“Thanks.” She stands, quickly heading towards the exit as you grab your notebook, you need to make a list of everything they’ll be needing.

You shouldn’t. If by some stroke of misfortune you’re right this question will only serve to destroy everything you’ve worked so hard to push away. You shouldn’t.

But you do.

Before she’s out the door you call out her name, you don’t want to know, but you have to.

“Ellie, what’s your friend's name?”

You found the treehouse two months after you found Jackson.

With tears streaming down your face you had dropped the twins off at Maria’s, mumbling apologies before going to the edge of town, a large amount of Jackson was empty, and still is. They’re planning for the future. Someday, generations from now, the town will grow and they’ll use these houses to accommodate families. But for now it’s just an empty town, one that you realized had a treehouse. You had hidden yourself away there, curling up into a ball to become as small as possible.

Tommy had found you hours later, shivering, with no more tears left to cry. And he hadn’t chastised you or asked you why you’d done it, he’d just taken your hand and walked you home. It doesn’t take him hours this time, only about thirty minutes according to your watch. You hear the crunch of his boots, the walking pattern you recognize as his, and the creak of the boards as he pushes the hatch open before sliding up into the small space with you.

Before he speaks you’re already reaching for him, desperate to cling to some kind of familiar safety.

“Hey darlin’.” It’s a dance you two do, fluid and instinctual as he pulls you into his arms, you slot yourself between his bent legs as he wraps himself around you. You used to sit like this when you couldn’t find shelter on snowy nights, one of the many habits you had trouble breaking when you found Jackson. Maria would never ask you to change your relationship with him, it was a decision you had made with Tommy when he told you he wanted to marry her. A part of you just sort of knew she didn’t like it, so you stopped. And you’d never hold that against her, if the roles were reversed you certainly wouldn’t be as kind as she’s been. That’s why you’ve always loved Maria, since the first day you met her she has been like a sister, patient but blunt with you.

Except in this one instance.

She withheld some particularly important information.

“The twins?” You lay back against him as you mumble.

“Maria’s watching them. They’re helping her make dinner, you shoulda’ seen them in the kitchen. I swear she’s the only person they listen…” His voice trails off when he feels you tensing up all over again as you go back to fighting off tears.

A silence falls between you, familiar and reminiscent of your first few days together out in the woods. And just like back then, you’re the one to break it.

“Have you seen him yet?” The words feel small and hoarse in your throat.

“No. Couldn’t bring myself to.” He rests his chin on your shoulder, you wish you could find comfort in any of this but there’s just too much dread. Too much unease fills your stomach to relax.

“Does he know you’re here?” You wish your voice didn’t tremble so much.

“Maria didn’t tell him.”

“Are we sure it’s even him?”

“Not a lot of Joel Millers walking around during the apocalypse.” It’s like he can sense your skepticism as he quickly continues. “She said he looked like a Miller.”

“What does that even mean?”

“Like me but grayer.” Fair enough.

“Does he know I’m here?” There’s no way. He couldn’t.

“No.”

“Good.”

“Can’t stay that way forever.” You know that. But you don’t have anything to say about it so you move on, and redirect the anger that mixes with your confusion and fear.

“Why didn’t she tell us?” He can’t take your side in this, as much as you want him to, he has to take her side because her’s is the rational one. Do you have a side? Can you be mad at her for this? Are there even sides?

“Probably because she knew we’d react like this.” His head tilts a bit to rest against your own. You’re thankful for this position so you don’t have to look him in the eye.

“She should have told us.” You’re trying to remain calm but your voice is pitching up higher by the minute.

“She was going to, she just didn’t know how. She thought she had more time”

You need to relax. It feels like your heart is going to burst from your chest and you’re certain Tommy feels it too.

“How did he find us?” He wouldn’t have been looking for you specifically, unless he had a death wish.

“On accident, I think. Maria said he was looking for me when they found him.” That makes sense. It’s just a coincidence that you’re also here. He has no way of knowing that you even know Tommy. How he managed to locate him is another matter.

“We’re two thousand miles away from the QZ, how the fuck did he find you?”

“He always gets what he wants.”

You can’t argue with that. Plain and simple, you don’t need much more than that.

“I don’t want to see him.” An impossible request, but you make it anyway.

“We both know that isn’t possible.”

“Tell her to send him away.” Also unlikely.

“You know she can’t do that, we don’t turn folks away from Jackson.”

“Then I’ll leave.”

“Like hell you will.” There is no fight in his voice, just certainty as he holds you a little tighter. Not without me. The silent promise that lingers under his words, but it’s more complicated than that now, you have two toddlers and he has a wife, there is no running away from this. No running away from him

He’s inevitable.

It doesn’t matter if the world ends, and you run halfway across the country, Joel Miller is inevitable.

“He’s got a kid.” You mumble as you reach for his hand, entwining your fingers with his. You hadn’t realized how cold you were until you felt the warmth of his skin against yours.

He scoffs. “He’s got two.”

“Another kid, some girl. He brought her here all the way from Boston.”

He shifts a bit, clearly confused. “Why?”

“I was hoping you’d know, it isn’t exactly in his nature to help the needy.”

He pauses for a moment. “Well, I mean, how old is she?”

“Fourteen.”

“Well there’s your reason, Sarah was fourteen.”

Sarah.

A girl you know very little about other than the fact that she’s your daughter's namesake. Sarah Ruth Miller. It had been Tommy’s idea, you had only picked out a name for a boy and you owed Tommy everything for keeping you alive that long, so when he asked if he could pick his niece's middle name you’d been more than happy to oblige.

It hadn’t been Joel who told you about Sarah, he never even told you he had a kid.

Tommy had told you about it just before the twins were born. You’d been snowed into a cabin and he’d just returned from hunting with a grin on his face as he told you he had a surprise. You couldn’t sleep, between the cold and the pain in your lower back you were just too uncomfortable most nights. Tommy always insisted on staying up to keep you company even if he ended up falling asleep most of the time.

That night he told you about how he lost his niece on outbreak day as he skinned the fox he’d caught in one of his traps as you sat beside him in front of the crumbling fireplace. When he finished the story he held up the pelt and told you he was going to make your babies first blanket with it.

Of course at the time neither of you knew that he would have to make a second blanket, or that he would need to do it a month sooner than either of you had planned.

“I invited him to dinner tomorrow.” No sense in hiding the fact from him, he’ll find out either way.

“What?” His hand tightens around yours and it’s your turn to comfort him as your thumb rubs circles against the tense skin.

“Ellie- the kid, I invited her before I knew about Joel. Even told her she could bring him.” You almost laugh at how ridiculous it all sounds now. Of course you invited him to dinner completely by accident, sounds like something you would do.

“Then why don’t we just get it over with?” Or you could leave, brave the Wyoming wilderness with your kids and his wife and make a run for it, far, far, away from Joel Miller.

But you can’t do that.

So you might as well get it over with.

“Together?” You bring his hand up to your face to warm the icy skin of your cheek.

“Together.”

He means it. He stays with you until the next day, walking you back into town and bringing you to his house. Maria starts apologizing the second the two of you walk through the door but you just hug her. She doesn’t owe you anything, any anger you thought you felt towards her was misplaced.

And you all settle in for the night.

On particularly bad nights you’ll spend the night at their house. It’s been happening less and less these last few months but it’s an unspoken decision tonight as Maria brings down sleeping bags from the attic for the kids.

You tuck the kids in by the fireplace, hoping that they don’t catch the vacant look in your eyes as you kiss their foreheads. Thankfully they both seem to be too excited about having a living room campout to notice. You hear hushed whispers from the kitchen, it sounds like an argument so you just sit on the couch, wrapping a blanket around yourself as you stare out the window facing the street.

What house did she put them in? There are a few options for temporary housing, but he could be anywhere. The thought makes you nauseous. Thankfully you’re distracted when you eventually hear Maria stomping up the stairs followed by a sigh from the kitchen before Tommy joins you on the couch.

“Everything all right?” You mumble, hoping to not wake the kids as you offer up some of the blanket to him.

“It will be.”

God you hope so.

“How do you wanna do this?”

Good question.

Preferably you wouldn’t be doing this at all, instead you would be enjoying what might be the last nice day before autumn sets in entirely. You, Arthur, Ruth, Tommy, and Maria. You’d still be happy if Ellie came over by herself but that’s so unlikely you don’t even consider it an option. Joel’s too protective and you confirmed with Maria that Ellie would be coming. He won’t let her go alone, you know that better than anyone.

You rub the back of your neck with your freehand. “The kids stay inside with Maria.” Ruth is already there, helping her aunt with the salad as Arthur sits in your lap, playing with a few stones he’s set up on the picnic table.

“Okay.” Tommy’s biting his nails, you’d spent weeks reprimanding him about that until he broke the habit.

Your knee starts bouncing, a nervous habit of your own that you’ve had for as long you can remember. Thankfully Arthur simply hums to himself as you bounce him. As far as you can tell neither one of the twins knows something is wrong, you can only hope it stays that way.

“We can wait for them out here, I can ask Ellie to go in and help Maria with the kids.”

“And then?”

You frown in contemplation. “I haven’t planned that far ahead.”

“So you didn’t plan for the most important part?”

“Did you?”

His teeth shift when you ask, biting down hard enough to split his nail lower than he intended. You watch as blood blooms there while he curses under his breath.

“Shit, go inside and grab a bandage, they’re in the cabinet above the sink.” He stands as you wave him towards the house, he brings his thumb to his mouth, his brow furrowed. “And bring Maria and Ruth out with you when you come back so we can go over everything with her.” He nods, humming in response before he disappears behind the screen door.

“Is Uncle Tommy okay?” When you look down you’re met with a worried look plastered on your son's face. You instinctively cup his face with your hand, using your thumb to smooth out the wrinkle between his brows. He looks too much like his father when he does that.

“He’s okay, love. He’s just gotta go get your Aunt and Ruth.” You lean down, kissing his forehead before turning to set him down next to you.

“Okay, Mama.” He seems satisfied with your response as he gives your leg a little pat before running off towards the edge of the yard. You’ve got a patch of rocks and gravel the kids like to dig through. You turn to watch him, with your back now leaning against the picnic table as he crouches down, examining the ground before finding a suitable stone. Clutching it in his hand he rushes back to you, holding it up for your approval.

“Very pretty, thank you.” You take it from him with a smile, setting it behind you on the table with the rest of them. He repeats the process several times, staring down at the ground, scrutinizing each rock before bringing the ones he deems good enough over to you. You give appropriate oo’s and ah’s to each one, grateful for the brief peace your son is able to give you. He carries on with this for sometime, until you have a sizable pile of rocks beside you.

He leaves, and he returns, dozens of times until he decides not to return to the patch of gravel.

You thank him for the speckled stone he hands you now but instead of running back across the yard he squints, staring up at your expression.

“What’s wrong?” He hops up onto the bench next to you, grabbing the sleeve of your shirt and bunching it up in his little fist as you give him a soft smile.

“Nothing’s wrong, hon.” You ruffle his hair a bit but he doesn’t seem convinced.

“Why’d you make a mad face then? Uncle Tommy too.”

So much for the kids being clueless, they’ve always been too smart for their own good.

Shit.

You sigh, looking up at the clouds briefly before looking back down at him.

No sense in lying to him. “You know how Uncle Tommy has a brother?” You wrap an arm around him, pulling him close.

His face scrunches up a bit as he thinks. “Yeah…” He doesn’t sound entirely convinced as you give him a reassuring smile.

“Well, we don’t really- we don’t always get along with Uncle Tommy’s brother, and he’s gonna be visiting us soon.”

“Why?”

“He’s in Jackson for a little bit, and he came a long way to get here-”

“No Mama, why don’t you like him?”

This is a conversation you had hoped to have with your children when they’re older. Preferably it would be one you wouldn’t have to have at all, but it’s just another unavoidable part of Joel. They’re already old enough to ask questions, it started when kids in their class began asking if Tommy was their dad. Which of course led to the twins asking you one night just before bed the same question.

“No love, he’s your uncle, who told you that?” You don’t want that rumor going around, people already talk about it, it doesn’t help that they both bear a resemblance to him.

“No one, Annie asked us.” Your daughter answers as you brush some of her hair behind her ear. You recognize the name, it’s a girl in their daycare class.

“And what did you tell her?”

“That we just got a mom.” Ruth answers but Arthur picks up the second she’s finished speaking.

“Do we have a dad?” He tilts his head to the side as you swallow loudly.

“Yes, you do.”

“Where?” Ruth asks.

Last you’d heard he was in Boston.

“I’m not sure.” They turn and look at each other before turning in unison towards you, you should have known they wouldn’t take that answer. “We lived together for a little while, in New York, and then we got separated.” None of that means anything to either of them but it’s an answer, which is better than nothing.

Arthurs tiny hand squeezes yours, pulling you back into reality. You often wonder if they know when you’re lost in a memory, he looks up at you curiously. What did you do to deserve such a patient child?

You take a moment to think of a way to phrase it. “We… got into a fight. A long time ago.”

“About what?”

“Grown up stuff.” Your heartbeat quickens, you don’t want him to know about all that, he’s too little, you need to end this conversation.

“What kin-“ When he starts another line of questioning you poke at his sides, sliding him off the bench in a fit of giggles.

“Time to go inside, nosy little man.” You follow after him as he rushes away, brown hair that’s just starting to curl at the ends falling into his eyes as he runs away from the house.

You catch up to him within a few steps, scooping him up and cradling him like a baby. He lets out a high pitched shriek until you squish your face into his cheek, kissing the rosy skin until he quiets down to a few small giggles.

“Your aunt needs some help in the kitchen, you’re gonna go play with her and your sister now.” He nods as he squirms in your arms until he’s more comfortable, wrapping his arms around your neck and resting his chin on your shoulder as you walk him back towards the house.

He’s gonna need a nap soon, which means Ruth is gonna need a nap soon. Maybe you should try and get them both down before everything else happens.

Right on cue, Tommy pushes open the door with Ruth on his hip, Maria not far behind him. Based on the smiles they’re both sporting you can assume they’ve made up. They always do.

“I think it might be time for these two to head inside.” Tommy gives you a soft smile and for a single second you get to pretend that everything’s fine. Maria takes a lighter towards the grill, trying to light it as you go to stand next to Tommy, the twins both grinning at each other.

In your own little bubble, everything is completely fine, and you’re with your family.

And at the end of your single perfect second the bubble is popped. It all happens before you’re ready, although you doubt you could ever really be ready for this.

Maria pockets her lighter, mumbling something about going inside to look for matches after a few unsuccessful attempts. You set Arthur down, nudging him in her direction, he quickly runs towards her, taking her hand as she begins to make her way back towards the house. Tommy wraps his free hand around your shoulder. Giving you a reassuring squeeze as you rest your head against him to stare at your little girl.

“We’ve got this.” He gives you another squeeze but you’re struggling to find safety in it. He’s always been the strong one, the confrontational one. He’s got this. You don’t. You tilt your head to stare at him when Ruth’s gaze goes from your face to his but your head snaps to the side when you hear your name called.

Everyone looks up. The twins, Maria, Tommy, and you, as Ellie walks around the side of the house and waves at you. The sound of your name makes the man walking behind her look as well, his all too familiar scowl scanning the yard, softening into a look of disbelief when his eyes settle on you.

Then - NEW YORK CITY, QUARANTINE ZONE : 2019

“I don’t like havin’ you out there on your own. I worry too much.” He mumbles the words against the back of your neck as he tightens his hold around your waist. At some point the two of you had stopped pretending you’d wake up any other way and just went to bed like this. “Stay here, angel.”

You’re so comfortable you almost consider it, but you ran out of cards last week and you’re cleared for work as of today. “I have to go if I want to sign up for any of the well paying shifts, Joel.” You peel his arms off of you, sitting up as he matches your movements.

“Don’t sign up for that shit, it’s always somethin’ stupid or dangerous.” His voice is low and thick with sleep as he wraps his arms back around you. “If you need somethin’ I’ll get it for you.” He hasn’t shaved in a few weeks, his coarse facial hair rubs against your shoulder as he murmurs.

Who knew big, scary Joel Miller could be so clingy.

The most surprising part of your relationship, if you could even call it that, with Joel is just how needy he is. You don’t have any problems with it, it’s just a bit of a shock. Although maybe needy isn’t the right word.

Protective.

You’ve left the apartment two times in total since moving in with Joel, both times you insisted on needing air much to his dismay. He accompanied you around the block without a word the first time. The second time was the same, the only difference was that you stopped to buy a small bag of buttons, Joel had frowned as you made small talk with the older man sitting behind the table before rushing you home.

“You could have just told me you needed buttons.” He grumbles as he holds the door open for you as you make your way to the kitchen table, taking a seat as you take his flannel off of you, the sight of your tattered sports bra serves as a reminder of how badly you need to get back to work once you’re cleared.

“I don’t need buttons, you do. Every shirt you own is missing at least one.” You laid the shirt down on the table, pointing to the drawer next to the sink. “Get me the sewing kit.” His frown deepens but he does as you say before sitting down across from you.

Reaching across the table he sets the box down beside you, crossing his arms in front of his chest. “Still, you should have just asked me.”

You open the small tin, unspooling a bit of thread. “I needed to go outside for a few minutes, it’s stuffy in here.”

“We could have opened a window.” He grumbles under his breath as you grin, holding the thread between your teeth while sliding the other end through the needle.

“It’s not the same and you know it.” You mumble through your teeth before releasing the thread and setting the needle down. You pour the buttons out onto the table, searching for one that best matches the beige of the buttons on the flannel. Eventually his hand encompasses your own as he guides you to one that’s a slightly different shape but matches the color perfectly. “Thank you.” You give him a teasing smile as you place it over the frayed threads where its predecessor once was.

That was a week ago and you haven’t been outside since but when Joel went to get the mail from downstairs he brought you a notice from the doctor that you were cleared to return to work today. Despite his protests you start to push the blanket off of you but he’s quick to pull it right back up into place.

“Stay, please.” He continues to hum against your skin.

“I need the money, Joel.” You turn to look at him, his usual morning sulky look seems doubled today.

“How much do you need?” He raises an eyebrow at you as he lets his face fall forward, his forehead resting on yours.

“It’s not like that.” You swear, if you asked him to, he'd find a way to give you the moon and stars, but you hate relying on him for everything, especially after such a long time of being dependent on him. “I just need to work.”

“You don’t need to. You want to.” His breath still smells like whiskey from last night as he gives you an exasperated glare.

“Fine, I want to work. My leg’s fine now, you can barely tell anything was wrong with it. I’ll be okay.” You lean just a bit more towards him, kissing his cheek before sliding out of bed.

You aren’t exactly dating Joel.

Dating seems so trivial during an apocalypse, and you haven’t had any conversations about it. It just sort of happened. You woke up one day and neither one of you wanted to pull away from the other, and it progressed from there. He came home from a job one night and climbed into bed next to you, wrapping himself around you and he kissed your forehead before falling asleep. You still don’t know if he knew you were awake. The next night you’d taken his face in your hands and kissed him, just to see what he’d do, thankfully after a moment of shock he’d kissed you back. And it just became another unspoken part of your life with Joel. He kissed you goodbye when he left to go do the things he refused to tell you about in any detail, and you always greeted him with a kiss when he returned.

But you don’t have sex.

You want to ask him why but you hold your tongue, it’s possible you’re just being impatient or maybe he just wants to wait. So you don’t push it or bring it up because you like how things are with him.

The word boyfriend is not a word that suits Joel.

He isn’t your boyfriend, he’s just sort of, yours.

“Angel, please.” He continues his griping as he pinches the bridge of his nose.

“Joel, please.” You repeat back at him, trying to mimic his low tone.

“I’m bein’ serious. Things have gotten bad out there recently, too much FEDRA bullshit.”

“It’s always been bad and I’ve always managed, I’ll be fine.” You pull one of his shirts out of the closet, slipping it on, starting to button it as he makes his way to the end of the bed.

“Can we at least talk about this?” He rests his elbows on his knees as he hunches over. The morning haze on his face is gone and is replaced by the stern scowl you’re used to.

“There isn’t anything to talk about. I’ll be careful, there’s nothing to worry about, I’ll see you tonight.” After digging through the dresser drawers you eventually find your only pair of jeans. Once your boots are laced you walk back over to him, standing between his legs and taking his face in your hands.

Staring down into his surprisingly gentle eyes, so dark that in the dim morning light they look pitch black.

God he’s pretty.

Even with that stupid pout of his.

“I’ll see you tonight.” You lean down, placing a kiss on his forehead before pulling away only to be stopped when his grip on your waist tightens.

“Just- wait.” You’re about to push him away with a laugh but his voice cracks just enough to make your smile drop.

You start to speak in a soft tone but you only get one word out. “Joel…”

“Please- I just- I can’t let you go out there and sign up for that shit. There’s jobs that aren’t dangerous, simple stuff.”

“Those jobs pay a few cards at best, hon. I can’t wear your clothes forever, I need new underwear, socks, all sorts of things. And I want to contribute around here, I’ll be okay, I promise.” You push the mess of hair falling across his forehead back as you stare down at him.

He looks so genuinely upset already and you haven’t even left yet, he’s making this far more difficult than you thought it’d be. “I won’t be able to do anything if I don’t know you’re safe. It’s dangerous for both of us, I can’t be distracted like that.” You sigh, long and loud as you drop your hands to your sides.

The more you think about it the more it makes sense. He really does worry too much, and even if you don’t know exactly what he does for work, you know it’s dangerous.

Maybe it won’t be so bad.

“Okay.” You groan.

“You’ll stay?” The corners of his mouth start to raise a bit.

“I’ll do the safer jobs.” The hint of a smile that had been on his face dissipates. “It’s a compromise. You can’t always get everything you want.”

“Fine, come right home after.”

“I will.” With one more kiss he finally lets you go.

So, at Joel’s request, you sign up for the easy jobs.

They’re boring, and generally sort of terrible, and they pay the least, but Joel doesn’t make any further arguments about it. So you keep signing up for them. Typically it’s childcare, or filing documents for FEDRA, or working in the entry level food processing jobs.

Boring, boring, jobs that involve standing around and doing nothing or wrangling kids who don’t deserve to grow up in a place like this. You hate the look on their little faces, they always look too grown up for their ages.

But you put up with it, because at the end of the day you get to go home to Joel, Joel who seems to be in significantly higher spirits ever since you’ve agreed to those specific jobs. So you make it work. He makes it worth the banality of it all, at the end of your first week back to work he surprised you with a large paper bag, grinning like you’d never seen him before. When you unfolded the crumpled bag you were greeted with a mess of fabric, different colors and textures. You poured the contents onto the bed and immediately realized what he’d gotten you. Bras, panties, socks, and two pairs of jeans. It must’ve cost him a fortune and your eyes began to water immediately. You had wrapped your arms around him, barely letting go of him for the rest of the night.

After that it got even easier, eventually you got used to it.

You learned to live with the terrible jobs, and if you wanted anything you couldn’t afford with your meager savings Joel always managed to get it for you, even if you hadn’t told him you’d wanted it in the first place.

You probably would have stayed like that forever if you hadn’t started taking the long way home. Weeks had passed before it happened, you had grown comfortable, vulnerable. Joel always made sure you felt safe and you let your guard down just long enough for something to happen.

Joel had left early that morning, telling you that he was gonna be late, before he kissed you, he was out the door before the sun came up.

Whenever Joel told you he would be late you took the long way home. Winding back alleys that were mostly empty that always led back to the apartment building. It was just a treat for yourself, something to do to fill time that would be spent at home, waiting for him.

You never had any issues or alterations.

Until that afternoon.

Joel will be late.

So the second your shift is over you take the handful of cards and make your way through the city. And just like you’ve done every other time, you look behind you every once and a while but not nearly as much as you should. Because of this, you don’t see him until it’s too late.

It’s a younger man, probably a year or two older than you at most peering around the last corner you turned. Once he knows he’s been seen his pace quickens and instinctively you do the same.

“On the ground!” The second you hear it you pray it’s for someone else, it has to be, you’ve done nothing wrong. You walk faster, hoping to avoid what could be a messy confrontation when the sound of boots slamming on the pavement rushes towards you and you’re forced up against the wall of the alley.

In your peripheral you catch the white text against the black of his uniform.

FEDRA.

Your knees are kicked from under you as he pins your arms behind your back, the force at which your head hits the stone has you dizzy as you try to catch your breath. Too much is happening too quickly, when you finally feel like you can use your voice the wind is knocked out of you as you feel him hit you in the side, hard enough to have you wondering if he broke a rib. The force of the hit makes your knees crumble completely as the officer lets you fall, only giving you enough time to get to your hands and knees before his boot slams into your stomach knocking you onto your side.

Finally, when you roll over onto your back you get a clear look at him. He looks like your average FEDRA officer, the only thing out of place is the unsure look on his face. Your ears are ringing so you barely make out what he says, all you catch is something about thinking you were someone else, before he turns and leaves as if it never happened.

Leaving you alone to clutch your stomach and wonder what just happened, and what you did to deserve that.

You’d never heard of random attacks from FEDRA before. Maybe in other zones, but the city has always been calm as far as that goes. Maybe things really did get worse while your leg was healing.

Joel was right.

That’s all you can think about as you stumble to get to your feet, everything hurts but now is not the time to assess your wounds, you need to get home before something else happens. You manage to hobble up the stairs of the building, nearly collapsing by the time you opened the door.

You feel so stupid.

Joel was right.

It isn’t safe out there, at least not for you. No one fucks with Joel, no one attacks him on the street because they’re afraid of him. No ones afraid of you.

It’s a long couple of hours after that.

Mostly a lot of berating yourself as you try to take in the extent of the damage.

Surprisingly it seems to mostly be surface level. Sure, you’re going to bruise pretty bad and your face got scraped up on the stones but nothing permanent seems to have been inflicted.

Once you’ve showered and slipped into an old shirt of his and a pair of panties you climb into bed, wanting this day to just be over, but you know it isn’t. Right on schedule you hear the lock click as Joel steps through the front door, you hide your face in your pillow.

“What are you still doin’ up? It’s almost midnight.” His voice is a low whisper as you hear the familiar sounds of him kicking off his boots and setting down his things. You hear the outer layer of his clothing hit the floor, you told him a while ago you thought it was gross that he slept in the clothes he wore all day. He started sleeping in his undershirt and boxers after that. “You okay, Darlin’?” The bed shifts as he sits beside you and the second you turn and look at him his jaw twitches. “Christ… what the hell happened? Who did this to you?” He’s managing to stay mostly calm but you’re already worried he’s going to blow.

“It’s nothing, I just had an issue with an officer on my way-“

“This is not nothing.” He’s already fussing with your face as you take his hands and move them away from you.

“Joel-“

“Tell me what happened.” It’s a command and you’re too tired to fabricate something, and for the first time in a while, you’re afraid.

So you tell him exactly how it happened. And before you realize it’s happening you’re sniffling, a part of you feels like you’re about to be scolded for this but he only nods, never interrupting you until you’ve finished.

Your vision’s blurry with tears when you look up at him, the weight of being attacked starts to weigh heavy as you realize just how lucky you were that that was all that happened. And then you say the words he’s been waiting to hear.

“You were right, Joel.”

“I’m sorry, angel. I should have been there to protect you.” He holds his arms open and you don’t hesitate as you lean forward into him. You do your best to hold it together as he lays you down before clicking off the lamp and pulling you back against him. He softly scratches your back, kissing the top of your head as he does. It’s silent for a few more minutes until he suddenly whispers into the darkness. “Tell me you’ll stay here from now on.”

“Joel, I-“

“No more going out there without me. You’ll stay safe right here, no one can hurt you here, not while I’m around.” You open your mouth to argue again but stop yourself.

He’s right.

Now that you’ve calmed down you know that you’re lucky to even be alive. You don’t know why you were attacked but you know it could happen again, and there are worse things than being beaten.

No one would hurt you here, not with Joel around.

“Stay here, angel.” He murmurs, softer this time.

Joel is right.

“Okay.”

He isn’t beside you when you wake up, your hands searching through the cold sheets seeking his warmth. He had mentioned something as you were falling asleep about an early morning supply run but you had hoped to say goodbye before he left, you wanted to make him breakfast. As you get ready to roll back over and sleep a bit more you’re startled into an upright position.

“You should watch where you’re flying, angel.” You bite back a shriek as Tess’s voice comes from the direction of the kitchen.

“Christ, you scared the hell out of me!” Your heart skips a beat as you reach over to the nightstand, pulling on the little chain that turns the lamp on. “Joel’s not even here, what are you doing?” You don’t like the idea of being alone with her, she doesn’t come around much anymore, you used to see her in the hall on her way here constantly, but after you moved in she stopped.

You do your best not to flinch as she makes her way over to you, standing at the foot of the bed.

“I’m not here to hurt you, there’s no need for theatrics.” You hadn’t realized you were shaking so badly until she said it, it takes a conscious effort but you manage to stop it for the most part. “I’m just here to talk.”

“About what?”

“About you and Joel.”

You don’t want to talk about that with Tess. You don’t want to talk to Tess at all, she frightens you and she knows it.

“There’s nothing to talk about.”

“Don’t talk to me like I’m stupid.” This time when you flinch she hesitates. For a brief moment the facade of a woman who fears nothing drops, and you swear you see sympathy in her eyes. “Joel is dangerous, you need to be careful with him or you’re going to get hurt.”

Is that why she’s here? To try and break you up?

“He won’t hurt me, he cares about me.” You wish you sounded more sure of yourself.

“You’re right, at least for now.” She flips her pocket knife open, ever so carefully running the blade along the underside of her nails, scraping away any dirt or grime she so happens to find, you fight the urge to flinch again. When she finally looks back up at you she takes a moment, examining your expression as if this was an interrogation. “Being loved by him is the worst thing that could possibly happen to a girl like you.”

You can’t help but scoff, now look who’s being theatrical. “A girl like me?”

“Good, too good. And fragile.” She points at you with the blade before returning to her nails. “He’ll do anything to keep you safe, even if it means breaking you into tiny little pieces, just so you’ll fit in a box he can lock.”

You’re about to call her a liar but you hesitate. “Why are you telling me this?”

“You deserve to know.”

“Okay, but why? You don’t even like me.”

“You wouldn’t be here if I didn’t like you.”

Fair enough.

“I think you should go.” You don’t want to hear anything else. You don’t believe anything she’s saying and the entire conversation makes you feel sick. She doesn’t know anything about your relationship with him, and she clearly doesn’t know anything about Joel. He’d do anything for you, you don’t think you’ve ever been taken care of before you met him.

“What do you know about glue traps?” She doesn’t make any effort to leave so you decide to just answer her with a sigh.

“Like the ones you use to catch mice? I don’t know, Joel buys them sometimes.”

She points her knife in the direction of the corner of the room, it takes a moment for your eyes to adjust. Sure enough, in the corner of the room, peeking out from under his dresser, is the faint outline of something on the floor, you’d never noticed it before.

“It’s the worst kind of way to catch a mouse.” She stands, walking across the room and peeling up the trap with the edge of her blade before snapping it shut and taking the edge of the trap between her fingers, dragging it across the floor to the middle of the room so you had a clear view of it. “They’ll do anything to get out.” The tip of her boot nudges the corner of the trap, now that it’s been dragged into the lamp light you can see exactly what she wanted to show you. Two things are in the bloody trap. A mouse, barely alive, based on the way its chest rises and falls, and something else. A caterpillar maybe?

No.

A leg. A bloody mouse leg, on the edge of the trap.

“They’ll chew off their limbs, and peel off their own skin just to get out, the ones that manage to are lucky enough to bleed out somewhere else. The ones stuck in the trap though?” She nods down at the creature you now refuse to look at. “They’ve got it the worst. Suffocation, dehydration, the ones who try to peel off and can’t, bleed out, stuck in place.”

With a sudden crunch, her boot slams down on the trap. You watch, slack jawed, as she peels it off the sole before tossing it in the bin in the corner.

“I’d take a quick death over either of those.”

“I think you should leave. Now.” You try to sound authoritative but your voice trembles too much to sound anything but afraid.

“I heard you got caught up in some FEDRA business yesterday.” She starts again but you’ve had enough.

“Tess.” You manage to have a bit of sterness this time in your tone but it doesn’t seem to affect her much.

“Fine. I’ll leave. But don’t say I didn’t warn you.” You catch that sympathetic look one more time before she unlocks the door chain, twisting the doorknob before speaking one last time. “I noticed some of our inventory is missing, this is the only warning you’re gonna get about that. If you want shit like that just ask, I’m sure Joel would be more than happy to have another way to control you.” She doesn’t turn around when she says it, simply slamming the door and leaving. You have no clue what she’s talking about, but that isn’t the part of the conversation that sticks with you. All you can think about is that crunching sound.

So you avoided her after that, writing off her words as an act of jealousy.

Joel would never do anything to hurt you.

Of course you know better now. She was just like you, she had been in the glue trap herself when she tried to keep you from joining her, but you hadn’t listened, instead you’d fallen face first into Joel. And he wouldn't let you go without keeping some of you for himself.

i don't have a taglist anymore !! follow @lincolndjarinnotifs for updates on all fics !!

#lincolndjarin #fic : every now and then #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #tlou joel #joel tlou #joel the last of us #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fic #tlou fic #joel x reader #the last of us fic #tlou fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction

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just-some-random-blogger · 1 year

Text

(Not At All) Secretly Into You

Pedro Pascal x Reader

Summary: Pedro thinks the best way to be slick about his crush on you is to be 100% unabashed about it. Ha ha! No one will expect that he has feelings for you if he's outright about it!

Word Count: 1k+

Warnings: gender neutral reader, Actor/Actress!reader, the use of y/n T_T, dummy!pedro, fluff, crackfic, typos, etc.

A/N: i cant help myself. i just head empty only pedro look at this gif people. take a good long look at him. what is it about him that has us in such a chokehold? i think this is the tipping point of humanity. what is it about him that has us like this? 😩 HES SO STUPID AND DUMMY HELLO?! he needs to be stopped. he needs to be jailed. or better yet SOMEONE MARRY HIM SO THAT WE INHERETLY GO OH SHIT ITS OVER SOMEONE WON T_T thank you for reading my little rant Tagging: @pinksirensong @aralezinspace @sloanexx @amis-love-bugs @top1bbgloak

Let me set the scene for you It's a cold, rainy day. There's a person all alone in their bedroom. They're bored AF. They look up, 'movies to watch 2023', and finds a film they're interested in. It's staring Pedro Pascal & [Y/N]. It's good. So good. Too good. It becomes their personality. They begin to hyperfixate. They look for other related content. Behind the scenes. Interviews. Interviews. They fall in love with the dynamic of the main characters IRL. They hyperfixate on them. They're not the only one in this boat. They search for other content. They stumble across a fan edits. Fan edits. Their mouth waters at it. They watch it.

Here's how one of them starts:

Hello.

After watching the movie of Pedro Pascal and [Y/N] and going absolutely feral (GO WATCH IT WIMPS) I have taken it upon myself to do a thorough investigation of their relationship (because I am CERTAIN they smashed and BY THE POWER OF ANIME I'm going to make it certain YOU think it's certainly so) so-

Without Further Ado, I present:

They Smashed, And Here's The Evidence.

You and Pedro are doing an interview answering questions while eating snacks from your respective hometowns. This is a snippet from that interview.

Cut scene, the question, which is read by a staff member off camera, is 'what is your favorite thing about the other?'

"You know, what my favorite thing about you is?" Pedro asks, albeit somehow rhetorically, as he chews on something. He was looking at you when he asked this. He watches with crossed arms as you struggle to open the snack packet.

His eyes dart to the small, plastic wrapped cookies as you sigh in defeat and hand it to him. He grins to himself, dramatically rolling his neck before he takes it from you and begins to open make his attempt to open it. Because of your lack of response, he asks as he rips at the package, "do you want to know what my favorite thing about you is?"

"Not really, no," you say, crossing your arms, knitting your brows, shaking your head.

Pedro makes a face looking out to no one in particular. He turns to you, just as he opens the wrapper, "meanie."

You beam, claiming the treat he hands it to you, "thank you."

He watches as you carefully get a cookie for yourself. Pedro looks at the camera, "as of this moment, I rescind any positive feelings I may have ever felt for-GRFF-"

You shove a cookie in his mouth as you excitedly moan and speak half-muffled with a full mouth, "it's still good!"

Pedro chews on the cookie.

"I used to love these when I was like," you raise your hands, "this big."

It takes a few moments for you to merit a response.

"You're literally still that big, what do you mean?" Pedro says.

You give him a second's glance as you clear your mouth, "talk to me like that after you retire your heels to join the 6 feet and above club."

Pedro shakes his head and rolls his eyes, "You're not even getting anywhere near the entr-"

You shove another cookie in his mouth, effectively cutting him off.

"My favorite thing about Pedro is when his mouth is shut."

Pedro's chews viscously, rolling his eyes all over again. He looks into the camera with a wholly exaggerated look. He then scoffs loudly, throwing his head back, crossing his arms all over again, mouth half-full, "you better pray you can keep your mouth shut later tonight."

Cut the cameras.

Did yall hear that?

WELL LET ME MAKE SURE YOU DID

"You better pray you can keep your mouth shut later tonight."

Later Tonight

Later Tonight.

WHAT THE FUCK IS HAPPENING LATER TONIGHT AND CAN I PLEASE PARTICIPATE?

Now, ok, if you're some weird puritan that got mixed up in this mumbojumbo for lolz and you're thinking, 'oh maybe they're going to play Uno. Uno is pretty intense.'

you're wrong

get the fuck outta here /:

Now.

I raise you some out of context clips that give off domestic energy.

Clip #1: In the subway

Quite literally, it's a video post on your Instagram of you and Pedro riding a slightly packed metro in New York. You're holding your phone closely to you. It's showing both yours and Pedro's double chin. The only reason why you're recording is because he's singing a children's song from Barney, 'And The Green Grass Grows All Around' under his breath. You ardently hold back your laughter as he begins to do the gestures.

>>>COMMENT SCREENSHOT: @ pascalispunk : it's a bop, fam. 😔 why'd you have to play me like this @yn_000 replied: literally no one said it wasnt a bop my love @ pascalispunk replied: i love it when you call me your love 💗

IN FRONT OF MY FUCKING SALAD.

THE SHEER AUDACITY OF THESE LOVE-DOVEY SEWER RATS. I DEMAND SATISFACTION.

Clip #2: The Breakfast Person

"I'm not really a breakfast person," you casually admit, mid-interview.

Pedro audibly gasps, "you're not a br- Wait, no, suddenly that makes so much sense. You stuff your face so quickly during lunch."

You slap him on the chest, "hey!"

Pedro snorts, "it's okay, baby, I gotchu," he begins to cook on his imaginary pan, "bacon and eggs, pancakes, oatmeal, whatever, I gotchu."

"You make oatmeal in a pan?" you ask, furrowing your brows.

"Only for the people I love," he smiles and leans towards you. He begins to make a weird laughing noise that sounds part motorcycle, part massive idiot who's so damn annoying.

You take a seconds look at him before smacking him on the face.

Cinematic parallels.

Clip #3: Our Fridge

"There," Pedro holds up the portrait of you that he had been completing the entire interview.

You look up from your own paper and break into hysterics. You lean into your knees from where you sat, nearly toppling forward. Pedro chuckles as he reaches out to you to keep you from falling. You lean back in your seat and wheeze, "what IS that?"

"What do you mean," Pedro grins, "don't you recognize yourself?"

You make a face as you catch your breath. You point to the top area of his paper, "is that supposed to be an eye?"

Pedro looks at his creation, "no, that's... that's that-- but this is your eye."

"You mean to tell me you drew me one eye?"

"I took creative liberties."

You chuckle in disbelief, "this man just told me he thinks I look like Mike Wazowski."

"Mike Wazowski wishes he'd look half as good as you, mi amor."

You turn to the camera, "I don't know how I feel about that."

"Which part?"

"Every part!"

"Well," he rips the page off the sketchpad, "better put this on our fridge."

"We are not putting this on our fridge."

"Why not?" he whines.

"Well, besides the fact it's ugly-"

"WOW," he trails off loudly, "just because it doesn't meet twisted societal beauty standards doesn't mean it's ugly."

You simply shake your head, "that is not going anywhere near our fridge."

PEDRO SAID BOO YOUR PETTY SOCIETAL BEAUTY STANDARDS 😩😩😩

YOU TELL EM PEDRO.

Also, they really said

OUR FRIDGE

And I think that's beautiful.

And now quite possibly, the most damning evidence of all.

THIS.

You and Pedro are sat next to each other on a sofa across an interviewer during one of those fan meet interview sort of segments. It's a fan cam, and from the angle in which this particular audience member is sat, its very much visible that Pedro, with his arm slung on the top of the back rest, was drawing circles onto your back. You do not outwardly react to his touch at all. [THIS RAT SO USED TO IT FFS]

You turn to Pedro and ask on through your mic, "what do you think?"

He says 'huh' off mic, then straightens up and brings his mic to his lips, only to give you a confused look.

"What do you think of that scene?" you repeat, brushing his brows with your thumb in affectionate annoyance. [BOO 👎 PDA BOO TOMATO TOMATO TOMATO 🍅🍅🍅🍅]

"Oh," he says, "that scene," he nods his head and widens his eyes at you, hoping you'd help him out.

The crowd laughs. [SIMPS smh]

You only mimic his wide eyes and offer a raised brow.

Pedro and you stare for a moment. Ultimately, he sighs and rubs your nape with his fingers, "fine-" the person recording says 'WTF' "-I have no idea what you're talking about."

There is a chorus of laughs.

"I'm still on the part where you said I was hot when I was covered in blood."

The crowd screams. You roll your eyes. Pedro laughs as he literally grabs your neck and pulls you into him, crushing you against him.

The crowd goes wild. The person who is recording is cursing.

Deep breath. FIRST OF ALL-

The person recording's a real MVP for managing to keep (relatively) calm while witnessing the gall of those two to do that in front of EVERYONE'S SALAD.

Second of all, aint no way, aint NO WAY you let someone like tHIS-

-with his itty bitty tiny waist and manhandle you like THAT in, and I can't stress this enough, FRONT OF EVERYONE'S SALADS, and not do anything further. It's science.

You're honor, the ruling, please.

100% Guilty of ✨Smashing✨

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal crackfic #pedro pascal social media au #pedro pascal fluff #pedro pascal x actress!reader #pedro pascal fanfiction #help me im so tired #pedro pascal x you

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skyeslittlecorner · 3 months

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Guys, we're doing it!

Do you remember this survey? I didn't expect such a great response. If that many of you really want to participate, I guess I'll have to do more than one batch of the draw to choose as much of your MC's as I can.

More info under the cut!

Time for some rules, so we won't get lost

The concept is simple. You give me your precious OCs/MCs, I adopt them for a while, write fanfic (related to WHB, of course) and hand them over to your loving hands.

For now, I plan to choose 3-5 people to write for. This may change if more people apply. If one applies, I will write for one. If 96 apply, I will choose more. We'll figure it out.

You can apply in two ways. One is to reblog this post and describe everything in reply, the second is to create your own post with the hashtag #whbmcshuffle Preferably both at once. I don't want to accidentally lose any application. I also recommend following this tag for the time being because I will post further information under it.

The people I will write for will be drawn randomly. I want it to be fair, and I guess this is the only way I won't be biased when I see mutuals I like or Andrea my favorite demons.

You can apply for one week. Since we may all be in different time zones, submissions will close when this survey ends.

Feed me information. Since I want to write something good, I would like to ask you for some information. Here's the list:

Name and pronouns: Quite obvious. Short bio: Who are they? Any difficult past or traumas? What were they doing on earth? Did they get to hell like in canon? How do they feel in hell? Where they live? Character: What are their main character traits? How do they usually behave? How do they behave in crisis situations? Voice: (Not mandatory, although, very helpful.) What would the narrative look like? More calm or energetic? Confident or not at all? Funny or serious? Calm or nervous? Laid back or distrustful? You can even paste here a song or a link to some story that you think reflect your oc's voice well. Important facts: Free space, you can put whatever you want here and whatever you think is important. Demons to include in the fic: (from 1 to 3) Brief description of relationship with chosen demons: I guess that's obvious. The tone in which it should be written: (i.e. spicy, angst, fluff, funny or other) Narrative type: Second person (addressing as 'you') or third person (addressing with selected pronouns) The script you would like to see: (Not mandatory, although, very helpful) For example, a date on Earth, cooking together, whatever you come up with.

I know it's a lot to ask. This is a minimal list, but the more information you give me, the better I will be able to empathize with your MCs and hopefully imitate their character. If you have already written about them, for example in your other posts, feel free to include links, so I can take a better look at them. Of course, you can add photos, or a song, or memes, anything you want!

I didn't mention the length of the fic, but it depends on how I will feel writing it. But I'll want it to be at least 800 words.

Most important. Have fun! It's mainly about getting to know each other's OCs/MCs. Who knows, if there's a lot of interest, maybe we'll do more draws. 👀

I tried to include everything, but if you have any questions, feel free to ask!

#whb #what in hell is bad #whb oc #whb mc #whbmcshuffle

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maochira · 10 months

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bastard munchen w ego's younger sister whos the complete opposite of ego, shes like very oblivious and innocent? to everything around her TT

Hi! Please keep in mind I generally only write gn!reader! Also, I obviously couldn’t fit every character in this, so I only did a few and this is mainly focused on Isagi (but I might make a part 2 of this!!)

Requests open! - masterlist

Tags: gn!Ego’s younger sibling!reader, reader is a lot younger than Ego and around the same age as the Blue Lock players, not proofread

Ever since the beginning of the Blue Lock program, something about the players caught your attention. You have never been interested in soccer, but something about this suddenly grabbed your interest. You became a big fan of the participants with your favourite one being Isagi. Your sudden enthusiasm also was a surprise to your brother, but he obviously didn’t complain. He was happy that after all these years you suddenly found interest in soccer.

But no matter how often you asked, Ego never allowed you to meet any of the participants. Not even at the U-20 match. You always had to keep your distance from them, but never got an explanation why.

Truth is, your brother is perfectly aware of how oblivious, innocent and naive you are. He’s always seen that as your biggest weakness. And with the Blue Lock players being so focused on egotism, Ego was afraid you’d get close to them and end up having your feelings hurt. But he never told you about that. He only shrugged it off as “I just don’t want you to” whenever you asked.

But ever since the Neo Egoist League began, your brother’s strictness regarding you seemed to fade. He still didn’t allow you to meet the players, but suddenly “i don’t want you to” turned into “Maybe some time next week.”

And this “sometime next week” is today. You got to pick one of the teams to watch at their practice, and you chose Bastard München for multiple reasons. The main one being that you really want to meet Isagi, but Noel Noa being their coach also peaked your interest. You still don’t understand as much about soccer as other fans do, but you know that he’s the world’s greatest striker, so of course you would want to meet him. Although, Ubers was a close second choice to you.

Very excitedly, you walk towards Bastard München’s training field. It’s really hard to keep yourself together to not start squealing in excitement, but somehow you manage to stay somewhat calm.

None of the players really knew beforehand who would come to watch their practice today. They were only told that someone would be watching, but they certainly didn’t expect that someone to be Ego’s younger sibling. None of them even knew Ego has a younger sibling, but when you stepped in, they could immediately see that you’re related to him. At first, you could hear them whispering and asking each other who you might be, first wondering if you might be Ego’s child. But because you’re too old to be his child - or Ego is too young to have a child at your age - they figured he must be your brother.

The first player to approach you is Yukimiya. He very politely introduces himself and holds his hand out for a handshake. In your excitement, you accidentally squeeze his hand too tight.

“Oh no, I’m so sorry!” You immediately apologize and bow down a little, which gains you a little chuckle from Yukimiya.

“No need to apologize, it didn’t hurt.” He has a soft smile on his lips. “May I ask for your name?”

Just before you get to introduce yourself, another player shoves Yukimiya to the side. Only a seconnd later suddenly you’ve got Kaiser standing in front of you with Ness on his side. Just like Yukimiya did, Kaiser holds his hand out to you. But unlike Yukimiya, he doesn’t shake it. Instead, he brings your hand up to his lips to place a soft kiss on it. No one has ever done something like this to you, so of course it causes you to get flustered in the matter of seconds.

“Kaiser! Don’t be like that!” Kaiser quickly gets shoved away by Isagi. You were already flustered before, but now that you’ve got your favourite soccer player standing in front of you, you completely lose your ability to speak. But you don’t need to say anything right now anyways because Kaiser and Isagi are fighting right in front of you and neither of them seem to intend to bring it to an end.

“Shut it guys, that’s enough.” Raichi growls while shoving his teammates apart. He doesn’t seem to want to talk to you, he just wants Kaiser and Isagi to shut up.

You’re about to say something, but then the boys get called by Noa to continue their training. You haven’t even gotten to tell them your name yet. But you happily watch the team practicing their soccer skills. Being near them to watch is way more exciting than only watching them on the screens in your brother’s office, even though this is only a practice match. Every now and then, you catch the players looking at you. The majority of the time they’re focused on the ball, though.

When they’re done, most of the players leave the field without paying any further attention to you. To be honest, they’re just too exhausted to start a conversation with you at this point. Well, all of them except for one.

“Sorry for Kaiser earlier, he’s… weird.” Isagi says as he approaches you.

“Oh no no, don’t worry about me.” You laugh nervously, both because remembering what Kaiser did causes you to blush again and because of Isagi staning in font of you right now.

“What’s your name?” Isagi wants to know, “My name is Yoichi Isagi,” He adds quickly afterwards.

“Oh, I know,” You feel your cheeks heating up a little more, “O-oh and my name is (Y/N).”

“Well, it’s nice to meet you, (Y/N). I assume… you’re related to Ego?”

“Yep, he’s my older brother!” You respond in a cheerful voice, which is so cute to Isagi, he blushes slightly as well.

“So… You mentioned you already knew my name?” Isagi is trying to figure out how to continue this conversation without having any awkward silences inbetween.

Your smile gets a little brighter as you nod in response. “I often watch recordings of the games with my brother. And… You’re actually my favourite player ItOs nice to talk to you.”

Isagi’s eyes widen in surprise. “Wait, I’m your favourite Blue Lock player?”

“No, you’re my favourite player out of all. Not just in Blue Lock,” You laugh a little, but your nervousness is slowly fading. “I barely know any other soccer players, to be fair.”

Isagi just stares back at you. He’s struggling to get a grasp on the fact that out of everyone in Blue Lock he caught the interest of Ego’s sibling the most. This will definitely motivate him even more for the future.

#💟 maochira writes #blue lock #bllk #blue lock x reader #bllk x reader #blue lock x you #bllk x you #michael kaiser #michael kaiser x reader #michael kaiser x you #yoichi isagi #isagi yoichi #isagi x reader #isagi x you #yoichi isagi x reader #yoichi isagi x you

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katnissmellarkkk · 8 months

Text

you know, i had a thought while reading something that was actually anti-everlark 😭. for reference i don’t typically search these things out i just got curious and went through some tags. anyways.

one of the reasons stated that katniss should be with gale is because “they went through as much in mockingjay part one together as katniss and peeta went through together in the arena” …

and, even taking that statement at face value, i know majority of hunger games fans are aware that’s not true and that even if katniss and gale went through some things together in mockingjay (part one? i assume then the article was taking the movie over book canon?) it doesn’t equate all she went through with peeta, but i had a different thought when reading that statement…

i’ve never truly interpreted it as katniss going through anything with gale in mockingjay part one? gale never felt like katniss’ partner, despite the fact she referred to him as her hunting partner in probably all three books.

he may have been her hunting partner but he never came across as her actual partner in the events unfolding around them. not anywhere near in the way peeta was.

what i mean, because i worry i’m not being clear here, is throughout mockingjay, while peeta was off being tormented, katniss was lonely. she felt isolated. she felt helpless and angry and fearful and alone all at once. and even when gale was right beside her, helping her, like in district eight, it did not feel like this was their moment together. it did not feel like the things happening were happening to them together, as a unit, any more than it felt like the events unfolding were happening to katniss and finnick together, as a unit. did stuff occur that surely affected finnick? yes, obviously. but whenever big moments happened, it always felt like it was katniss’ solo moment, her solo character arc, her trauma and her pain and her growth, all on her own, as she was surrounded by other people. and gale was just another one of those people.

now yes, the first two books did have katniss going through trials and tribulations as the main character. the series was all her journey and her growth at the end of the day. but i cannot help but notice that with everything katniss would experience, she seemed to almost view peeta as an extension of her. not just in the arena either. everything she went through, everything that occurred, she narratively always brought peeta along with her. when something would happen, she almost always mentioned peeta in relation to it. she always included him in all her big moments. and even after he was hijacked, after she believed whatever existed between them was gone, she still did this. even somewhat unconsciously. katniss is the one who always told the reader that when something big was happening, it was happening to her and to peeta. that they were going through all these things together. and maybe that’s why she felt so isolated in the start of mockingjay.

because for whatever reason may be, she never shared this kind of connection to gale.

#thg #hunger games #everlark #Katniss everdeen #Peeta mellark #gonna be really real about this one girls I’m nervous to post this…#I may delete idk #text post ✨✍🏻🤎#100

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slushiepizza · 2 months

Text

Marie and Mother Mary

Relationship : Marie & Milo Greer

Tags : Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Post-Partum Depression, Gender Roles, Catholicism, Motherhood, Italian American Marie Greer

Word Count : 1,510

ao3

Notes and Warnings:

this fic kind of surprised me because I'm not super into the Shaw Pack. But I do find Marie Greer's presence and bits and pieces we know of her character fascinating. I wanted to explore Marie's mind and feelings about being a mother when she's dealing with a gambling husband; and for her to raise someone like Milo Greer- she must've done a great job as a parent.

I took inspiration from my own experiences growing up with Catholicism and specifically in relation to the biblical Mary as a religious figure; and how mothers often find comfort in the thought of a figure who related in their struggles of motherhood and womanhood. It also has a theme of gender roles/ alluding to rigid gender identities because of the circumstances that Marie grew up in.

This fic isn't really... religious per se, and it takes more of a neutral standing while still criticizing how religion could be used to provoke feelings of personal guilt and trauma in someone who grew up in it, while also giving comfort to anyone that needed the universe to say that everything will be okay. If any of the themes may cause distress in you, I do implore you not read this fic, as consuming writing is a vulnerable activity.

The year was 1993. Marie Greer walked into the empty church lot with her baby in her arms. It had been decades since she last stepped on its stone floors. The security guard stationed outside looked at her strangely, but let her in once she asserted that she was there to pray.

She passed the main building for a small garden in the back. There were rows of wooden benches but nobody to be found. Good. Marie didn’t want company at the moment. To call it a garden was an overstatement- it was tiny and cramped, overgrown with vines. In front of the benches, the centerpiece of all the foliage was a statue of the Virgin Mary. Mother Mary, she thought, the double entendre not escaping her.

As soon as she sat down right in front of the statue- Milo wailed inconsolably like he always did.

The baby’s loud cries echoed disturbing whatever peace that was left from the place. Marie sighed, tired and weary, of this. He was an especially sensitive child, smaller than other babies his age. Marie was used to catering to people who’d fuss over the littlest things, Colm had a particular affinity for order and cleanliness whenever he came back from blowing his month’s earnings in a night, after all. The addition of Milo to the family just added more on her plate- she had to catalog every single one of his many allergies, and make sure that the room was never dusty because he’d have a coughing fit otherwise. The replacement of their popcorned ceiling had not been cheap, either, not with Colm leaving barely anything left after his trips to Vegas.

She did this all for love. For him. For her husband. But oftentimes, she felt like there was nothing left of her to give. Dry. Hollow.

She shushed Milo and lightly rocked him in hopes that he’d calm down but to no avail. He thrashed and turned, his nails accidentally scratched her in the arm. Marie winced and tried to soothe him, lightly patting his back. It took thirty minutes of rocking and soothing Milo until the baby went back to sleep.

St. Mary’s weathered ivory-colored face looked down at her, her expression blank and unmoving. Her lips were sculpted into a serene smile. Her pupil-less eyes gazed back at Marie.

Just like any other Italian-American family at the time, church was a routine for Marie growing up. Her mother would dress them in their Sunday’s best and wrangled her and her seven unruly siblings into the building. “Quit fussin’ your pigtails, Marie. I did that real pretty for you,” she’d chide. They’d sit in the back of the church because tardiness ran in that family’s blood like a curse.

Past the twelfth and thirteenth pews, God felt distant.

Marie would follow everything diligently. She stood up when everyone else stood up as the priest lifted the circular white wafer, the body of Christ, above the altar. As a child, her height wouldn’t allow her to catch a single glimpse of it. She’d comfort her younger siblings whenever they’d make a ruckus. But the whole thing- it went one ear out of the other.

She could’ve sworn she tried her best to listen and followed whatever the adults did.

I have greatly sinned, escaped past her lips as she did the same thing she had now, rocking her baby sister in her arms. At the time, she hadn’t even lost her milk teeth.

She stopped going when she married Colm. He was the opposite of the man her mother wanted her to marry, and in retrospect, she felt that it was one of the many reasons she liked him. His mind was raucous, his eyes wild and unmoored. Like nothing was holding him back. Colm used to be an ambitious man- the thrill of being an Investigator for DUMP perfect for his unrested soul.

Marie loved that part of him, the fact that he’d question everything, unbelieving in anything unproven.

He said that he wanted to purge the world of assholes- the unjust, those who hurt others for their own sake. As he turned in empowered criminals in the pursuit of it, he became one himself.

Marie met St.Mary’s gaze- almost challenging her hollow stare. Something surged through her, from the ache in her back settling to her tight diaphragm.

After the birth of her boy, Mary couldn’t cook or clean. All she did was stay in bed. Her sister came by to help take care of the house while Colm stepped outside as usual. She said that it was normal, her body had been through hell, after all. But the heavy feeling, the heaviness that settled in her chest persisted for the next two months.

Marie hated feeling helpless- her house a mess, and her baby cried constantly. She was a woman of action, and stagnation shackled her, leaving her trapped. Her visit to the psychiatrist- and the fourth edition of the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual- had told her that it was depression with a postpartum onset. She told the doctor that she refused to accept that she was a ‘bozo who was sick in the head’ and that she will cure herself with a margarita and a sorely needed hair perm alongside a fresh coat of manicure.

And look where that got her. Crying in front of a statue in church.

She still stared at the other Mary, the statue’s size and height caused her to look like she was looking down on whoever prayed in the confined space, guiding them iin a time of need. With that, for once, Marie realized that she was angry.

She wasn’t stuck to her mattress, fatigued, and lacked energy because of sorrow- she was so angry, the weight of her job description as wife, mother, woman, wolf, dog, bitch- Marie weighed down on her like anchors. She was angry, at the fact that Colm was nowhere to be found throughout all this, angry at her mother- for making her a mother to her own siblings when she was barely a child, angry at the fact that she couldn’t even love her child properly because she no longer had any love left in the hollow of her heart.

The emotions had clawed the insides of her ribs and caused her to let out heavy breaths- she was a dog panting for air when there was none.

“When does it get easier,” she demanded to the Mother of all Mothers through gritted teeth. “Tell me, Mary,” she begged, desperate, as tears started to roll down her face. “Tell me!”

“When does being a mother ever get any easier?”

Her voice was a whisper, barely audible, as she started to sob and heave quietly.

A soft breeze blew past the branches of the trees that surrounded her. It moved the leaves and allowed them to move gently back and forth. The statue still looked down at her, hand slightly outstretched in a supposed kind, helpful gesture. Ants crawled from the crack in the marble, they moved past Mary’s dress down to the hem, circling around her exposed foot, past the head of the sneak that was crushed triumphantly under her toes.

Marie sank into her seat, tired. She wiped her face with the back of her hand, sniffling. Unbecoming of her, she thought. She’d rather die than let anyone see her like this. But there was a comfort between women, she supposed. Damage from rain stained Mary’s cheek like tears- not unlike the thick mascara that currently ran down her own. The air was comfortable, easy, and Marie felt light. It reminded her of the 80s. Of girls in the bathroom of the disco, talking someone out of calling their past lovers as they applied lipstick and passed cigarettes between one another.

“I guess,” she sniffed. “I guess you know better, right?” she stared into a picture that hung on a distant wall. In it, St. Mary cried as she held Jesus' dying body. “He didn’t give you a hell of a good time either,” her voice cracked pathetically.

Girl, tell me about it, Marie imagined the statue said. The Virgin Mary had the voice of her best friend in college. Is that not what being a mother is? The pain so bad, it feels like you’re splitting in two? Going through all seven hells for your baby’s sake?

“Why do we even put ourselves through this,” she chuckled sardonically. “If I wanted to go through pain, I’d rather just listen to Colm talk about whatever fish he caught on the weekend.”

Mary didn’t answer, and Marie understood. Milo opened his big eyes in her arms and reached up to her with tiny hands. He giggled, light and oblivious to the puffiness of Mary’s face and the swell of her eyes. She cooed at him and held up a finger. Milo wrapped his hand around it, gentle.

St. Mary’s serene smile was still plastered on her face, her hand outstretched in the air between them.

#redacted audio #redacted asmr #marie greer #milo greer #redacted milo #redacted marie #slushiewrites

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onesidedradiostatic · 2 months

Text

Intro Post + FAQ!?!?!?

STRIPES TRUTHERS DNI!!!!!!!! (this is a joke)

I'm not replacing my pinned post because I like my pinned post. it's special to me. it describes my blog in a single gif. but I'll link this in my bio.

hi! I think this was long overdue. first of all, introduction!

I'm pink! she/her, 19, filipino-chinese, 🇸🇬

I am an asexual sapphic on the aro spectrum! I'm not repulsed in either department though, I consider myself mostly sex-neutral and romance... idk, ambivalent irl, favourable in fiction.

keep in mind that hazbin hotel itself has a lot of explicit humour, so canon-typical level of that kind of humour should be expected here. however, outside of text-only nsfw jokes, I typically don't post or reblog nsfw art (and IF I did, I would use community labels/appropriate tags). I may also tag certain text-only nsfw joke posts as #suggestive, just as a precaution.

and now the FAQ...

FAQ

Other than one-sided RadioStatic, what do you ship?

I've actually done this before, but decided I'd update it a bit.

cherrivel is only there because of the need for velvette to have someone at the hotel to be obsessed with, refer to this post. it is currently unserious and could easily never come up in my posts I just thought to include it because of that one time I brought it up. other crackships may come up if I find it funny (ie adam x mammon).

this shouldn't come as a surprise to anyone, I do not like any reciprocated romantic alastor ships, I'm not here to police anyone for what they do in fanon, but all I ask is no one send me anything of the sort. I interpret alastor as a repulsed aroace, and the dialogue in which his asexuality is implied in canon implies to me he would never pursue dating (rosie knows alastor wouldn't be dating charlie because he is aroace, which implies she knows he is an aroace that doesn't date**). so that is how I choose to portray alastor in my posts.

**TO BE CLEAR, there IS nuance to this. because action =/= attraction. funny situations such as a fake date with vox as a distraction that he doesn't like at ALL entertain me. but I do not believe he is the type to pursue it under normal circumstances.

regarding qprs... well, as you can see, I really only care for qpr radiorose, but this is the part where it comes down to personal preference. qpr radiostatic largely depends for me, maybe if it's like an au where they never had a falling out or something but otherwise, I don't personally really see it, but that isn't to judge anyone who does. HOWEVER, I do like thinking about their past friendship, here's a post I made before regarding alastor's side on it.

Who's your favourite character?

unfortunately, it is the stupid tv man in my pfp. alastor is my second favourite though if that's not immediately obvious (wow tumblr user @onesidedradiostatic's faves are vox and alastor who could've guessed?)

Do you know [insert pre-series information here]?

I need to clarify, I am NOT a pre-series hazbin fan. I only got into hazbin properly at episode 5-6's release, prior to that I had only watched episode 4 out of curiosity due to twitter discourse. any information I have regarding pre-series stuff comes from the wiki, tumblr posts or anons who have informed me of stuff. my main source of information is the main series, that is how I first consumed hazbin after all.

What the fuck is the "Lucifer's Commissions Saga"?

it all started with an anon talking about the most unrealistic thing about vox owning an alastor body pillow being that alastor was able to be printed on it without glitches. I then dropped a stupid idea I had in my head for a bit about lucifer being offered 50k to make a sexy alastor painting for vox. one reblog later. well. it turned into vox commissioning lucifer for the body pillow. and then a bunch of asks came in related to it and it turned into a saga which is now my legacy. feel free to scroll through this entire thing. also a fanfic of it by ChaoticAce2005 now exists. go check it out. AN ANIMATIC BASED ON ONE OF THE POSTS BY NATAKARANIA ALSO NOW EXISTS. CHECK THAT OUT TOO.

The original post mentions Val commissioning Lucifer for the art for Vox, Val is canonically a talented artist, why would he do that?

in my defence, I kinda forgot about that when I posted the original joke. later asks, I've mended that val HAS drawn for vox before but vox nitpicked too much and val's not always willing to do a fully rendered sexy alastor... so vox has to outsource. and he just happens to do so to the king of hell.

Hey, hey, listen! What if Vox doesn't have a crush on Alastor but wants XXX instead!?

hey, I respect you! I respect your opinion and hc. but this blog is built around that concept specifically, I like vox wanting something he can never have, wanting romance from a guy who literally cannot feel the same way about him. so I'm probably not gonna be as passionate about other takes. but your opinion is valid! I'm just not really sure what you want me to say other than respectfully disagreeing.

Why don't you use RadioSilence for one-sided RadioStatic?

radio silence is the name of another book made by the author of heartstopper, alice oseman (which I heard also has a canon aspec character!). even though it is already a used tag for this ship, I refuse to contribute to flooding the book tag with hazbin hotel. it's already an issue I see even when searching #radio silence with the space, I think those in that fandom should be allowed to search for content without being flooded by content from another fandom. please understand.

I instead use #onewaybroadcast in accordance with this poll. I still use the regular #radiostatic and #staticradio tags in addition to it for more reach and because vox's side still technically counts under it, if anyone doesn't like specifically one-sided radiostatic for whatever reason, they may filter out the specific tag or block me.

Tags

#osrs.txt - all text posts, including asks #osrs.art - self-explanatory, art done by me #osrs.mp4 - videos which can range from compilations, shitpost edits to high effort edits #osrs.helluva - my helluva boss reactions/liveblogging and related stuff

#radiostatic parent trap subplot - the short series of asks joking about the torn picture vox has reminding them of the parent trap, turning into a crack subplot #projecting irl experiences onto radiostatic squad - where a bunch of anons came together to recount irl experiences with incels and say "yeah this is vox" #the ays - angel dust realising he and alastor are the reason for the vees' focus on the hotel and decides to brand both of them as the ays #lucifer's commissions saga - everyone's favourite as explained above, and also the biggest arc on this blog (my legacy) #alastor's modern sexuality label crisis - started with alastor misinterpreting "asexual" as asexual reproduction, continued on to him misinterpreting more modern sexuality labels #vox's stupid fucking turtleneck - it started with me trying to start up a debate on the colour of vox's turtleneck in the vox and val photo and escalated into people in my notes and askbox trying to gaslight me into thinking the turtleneck has stripes instead of it being a KNITTING PATTERN. this is what the STRIPES TRUTHERS DNI is referring to btw #cursed yellow val - tag name taken from andy-solo1, started as a response to the turtleneck discourse, I believe the turtleneck is a similar colour to val's wings therefore yellow turtleneck truthers are implying val's wings are also yellow #respectless anons - started with an anon trying to correct colour names and saying "not to be velvette..." and ended up with other anons being kin assigned characters #all the fucking parodies - there's been 2 parodies for you didn't know and 2 for respectless by others based on shit from this blog now, this tag is needed #the fanon val killjoy beef - tag made for the made up concept of valentino and katie killjoy beefing, started from this post

#osrs.intro

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the-maddened-hatter · 5 months

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Some Hazbin Hotel death symbolism theories/headcanons

So yeah this is gonna be darker since the show literally revolves around characters in hell

Tw for drugs, suicide, murder, cannibalism, mentions of racism & and idk what to call it like in-character cultural insensitivity (if anyone knows how to tag that better lmk) , and various forms of abuse under the read more

Also I know these will probably get disproven within like 5 minutes once the show comes out, but I think they'd still be cool for an AU or something!

Vaggie: I'm gonna start out with a potentially controversial theory here: Her death X eye could be more symbolic than literal, with her choosing to "turn a blind eye" to something in life that eventually lead to her committing suicide out of guilt, and her moth features symbolizing her having been focused on a certain goal or priority to a selfish or harmful degree in life like a "moth to a flame". Putting these together, maybe she allowed something to happen either to someone directly or in such a way that they ended up being harmed/killed in the pursuit of a goal or belief and once she realized the scope of her actions she committed suicide. Maybe once she's in hell she's all but forced into a career of a bodyguard for the ruling families of hell as some kind of ironic punishment (though in her particular case it ends up working out well for her since she and Charlie fall in love)

Since her moth features are much less pronounced than Valentino, perhaps it serves as a reflection of how she realized the harm her selfish focus caused before she died.

Speaking of him, Valentino's highly pronounced moth features could suggest that his selfish focuses were much worse and more self-serving than Vaggie's were (unsurprising given his character) and his addictive smoke powers could mean he died in a fire (my theory is he went into a club that he ran during a fire to retrieve a stache of money and drugs he had hidden inside and perished due to smoke inhalation (meaning he 1 has no visible death x, 2 has a death x on his chest that we haven't seen yet, or 3 his death x shows up sometimes in the red smoke he breathes).

I wrote a fanfiction about a headcanon for Sir Pentious's backstory But the main takeaways from it are I think that he worked with poisons, became paralyzed prior to his death by them, his drug addicted son killed him in a fit of withdrawls with a shattered vial of snake venom, his death X is on his chest where he was stabbed and is hidden by a large fake eye that he wears over it. The other eyes across his body are because he became paranoid after becoming paralyzed. He knows his son went to hell along with him so he's continually searching for him, but doesn't realize that his daughter did as well several years later.

With Niffty, I theorize that her mother died when she was relatively young and she was expected by her male relatives to take up the duties of a housewife and surrender any degree of ambition she may have held about school or a career (even those that fell within the limitations of the time period). Her one hope was that if she was able to get married she'd at least be able to have some degree of freedom from her abusive controlling relatives. Given as many housewives commonly used stimulants that would be considered dangerous and illegal today to increase their productivity and lessen their desires to eat, it's hardly a stretch to think that Niffty would have tried (or been pressured into trying) them as well. It's my belief that she died due to a heart condition that was made much worse by taking the stimulants and her death X is over her heart (and this is why she has speed related abilities). Her large cyclopic eye could be symbolic of her feeling like she constantly needed to be vigilant while still being aware that there were things she wasn't getting to see in life Perhaps her small size is due to her being younger when she died (roughly 18 to 20) and that her death name is taken from the brand of the stimulants.

With Cherri Bomb her cyclopic eye that is functional despite the X may be because she, like Vaggie, chose to allow people to be harmed when she had the power to stop it, but her connection to it was less direct than Vaggie's was (perhaps she created weaponry for an extremist organization, but she didn't realize civilians would be harmed). Within this theory, she may have died sabotaging the organization, perhaps blowing up a bomb within their headquarters o unsuccessfully attempting to dismantle one on the civilian site (with her cause of death being the shrapnel impaling her). She is not ashamed of her death X, and chooses to wear clothing that implies its location.

I headcanon Vox as having been a corrupt journalist in life, overlooked due to a severe stutter in childhood and left with something to prove, he was willing to write false (but convincing) news reports for people about their competitors (ranging from small-scale businesses to political candidates) and come up with convincing doctored photographs. He wanted to quit the lifestyle and settle down with a lady he had convinced to be his fiance (she didn't really love him, but she had a daughter to care for and he genuinely cared for the both of them), so he accepted "one last job" that he believed would leave him with enough to live comfortably in anonymity. The job ended up being a set-up by someone he had previously wronged or their friends/family and was drugged, beaten, and left for dead in an alley. In his final moments he weakly tried to call attention to himself but was unable to get anyone to notice him due to a display window full of new televisions drawing a crowd and drowning out his pleas for their notice.

He has no visible death X due to dying of internal bleeding, but he still bears marks of his death with his eyes always appearing mismatched from three red lines that frequently appear in the lower left corner serve as his marker no matter how often he changes his features. Deeply saddened he was unable to be a father to his fiancee's daughter back in life, he views Velvet as an adoptive daughter. He waited hopefully for many years to see either of them again and his both relived and distraught that they seem to avoided hell.

With Alastor I'm like 99.99% certain this is already fully incorrect, but fuck it this is a headcanon post (also this one is long bc unlike Sir P I didn't get around to writing out the fic before now: Conceived through wealthy white man's abuse of a cook he employed who was of mixed race, meaning her abuser was fully unpunished for his crimes. Though unmarried and in poor health, she kept Alastor, viewing him as proof and hoping he would one day deliver vengeance upon the people who wronged her. He grew up in the care of his ailing mother who, sadly viewed him more as her poised dagger than as her son, and his grandmother who loved him dearly, but lived primarily in her own memories and passed away by the time he was 10 years old. Before she died would tell him lengthy stories about the family he'd never gotten a chance to meet and he would listen, enraptured by the rich tapestries of lineage she described, with his favorite stories being the ones about the Native American man who had been in love with her father's mother, and, she suspected, was well more than just a friend of the family. She didn't know much about the man, but that only served to fuel Alastor's imagination.

Though he hated the man who had given it to him, his lighter skin brought him advantages that were not typical to those in his situation, the most prominent being that he was able gain employment at a rather prominent local radio station in the next town over, and, given time, talent, poor studio lighting, and a false last name, work his way onto the airwaves. He put up with a lot during those long years, forcing himself to stay silent and keep a smiling face through his bosses & colleagues flippant racism, promising himself that it would be worth it one day and that hey'd be "singing a different tune" once he'd worked his way up to the top. He was right, but not in any of the ways he ever expected to be.

Short version, he was found out and fired (despite a degree of public outcry, as his program was quite popular) and he found himself unemployed and, one night, drinking alone. His mother had passed away of a violent seizure a month ago to the day and he was drowning his shames of failure in both his career and of her (she'd had her high expectations of him clear from the moment he was born).

Another man came into the bar, small, tan, scruffy, limping, with some tattoos visible. He hobbled over to the bar stool next to Alastor and with evident glee recognized his voice from the radio and with a bit more effusive praise dolled out between the pours of liquor they became the fastest of friends. When the bar shut its doors, well why didn't they continue their lively chat in Alastor's kitchen? Neither of them had anyone waiting for them at home or much business to attend to in the morning. So that was precisely what they did.

Though he tried his best, Alastor could not seem to pronounce the young man's name. It sounded to him almost like the gecker of a fox (though he blamed this on the copias amounts of bourbon swimming in his brain), and after his third slurred attempt the young man waived his apologies away and said to call him Shilo.

Shilo proved to be a very good listener that evening and, as it happened, in the coming weeks. Most would have balked at the rantings and declarations of vengeance of a total stanger, but not him. He followed each word earnestly, soaking everything in until he was finally ready to make his move.

It was truly such a shame Alastor knew so little about his lineage and about his great grandfather's culture, perhaps he wouldn't have so readily accepted Shilo's claims that he could be granted power, vengeance, and justice through a "dark magic ritual". Maybe if his mother had seen him as someone to love instead of something made to avenge her he would have been harder to talk him into performing 7 so-called "rituals" of murder and cannibalism. Who's to say? End the end the decisions were his own.

He chose people adjacent to his mother's abuser (Shilo was clear on this point, that he mustn't yet strike his target directly, that the ritual was about "absorbing the lights in his life to let you see beyond and leave him blind in the dark". Alastor took down

His uncle (his father's brother) first (a horrid man who, in Alastor's defence, reached for his pistol solely in response to his approaching him)

The house's head butler who had turned out Alastor's mother for "causing trouble",

His own half-brother (he took more pleasure in this than he cares to admit even now, knowing so little and so much separated their respective fates)

His half-brother's fiancee, as she became a convenient next victim

His father's bank broker

His father's chauffeur (for suspecting and confronting him).

And finally, the cook who replaced his mother. That's where things went wrong.

Shilo instructed Alastor to take the body of the victim into the woods once night had fallen, and he complied as he had each time before, but this time as he ate he became overwrought with the guilt of what he'd done, to murder someone fully innocent, whose position was nearly identical to his own mother's all of those years ago.

Shilo was furious when Alastor began to plead to back out of the ritual, insisting that he could well have his vengeance for it all, that once he slit his throat with the so-called ceremonial blade of bone he would awake a spirit of vengence, brimming with all of the power of his ancestors. He tried to press said blade into Alastor's bloody and shaking hands, but he swatted it away as waves of bile doubled him over and he purged most of his night's kill from his stomach.

Alastor watched Shilo's easygoing facade melting away along with his human form, morphing into a snarling canine with a mouth of sharp fangs that dribbled bloody foam. Interwoven between the creature's rage filled huffs and undercurrent of a fox's chitter slipped the words "Oh, Al. You really shouldn't have done that."

He ran for hours through the forest. Shilo, or whatever called itself that anyhow, kept pace at his heels, sometimes overtaking him and ripping away a fresh chunk of flesh or snapping a bone with its massive jaws before falling back to keep the chase going.

Horrifically bloodied and mutilated but somehow still moving he eventually managed to attract the attention of some hunters, who seemingly managed to scare off his pursuer with a few warning shots. Needless to say, Alastor collapsed the moment the beast was no longer on his heels.

One could argue that they meant well, doing what they did. He was very plainly in agony, with his neck and limbs lolling grotesquely, and they really could do virtually nothing to care for him. He wouldn't even let them touch him to try and staunch the bleeding (though for pain or delirium they couldn't tell), doing his best to strike out with a broken appendage or, when one of them tried to at least stabilize his neck with a folded coat, bit down on his would-be-healer's arm and kept locked on until he lost the strength to continue.

He regained a bit of sense for those last few seconds. He saw that horrible beast's wicked eyes and gleaming teeth lurking in the edges of the firelight and he saw one of the hunters kneeling beside him and promising it would be quick and everything would be over in just a moment as he readied his handgun.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel fanfiction #hazbin hotel fan theory #fan theory #hazbin vaggie #hazbin valentino #hazbin sir pentious #hazbin niffty #hazbin cherri bomb #hazbin vox #hazbin alastor #cw drugs #cw horror #cw abuse #(idk how much I need to tag in the tags since I did a cw at the beginning with a read more but lmk if I need to)

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2af-afterdark · 2 years

Text

Turn Off Your Mind and Give Yourself to Me

Rating: Explicit

Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply

Category: F/M

Fandom: Shall We Date?: Obey Me!

Relationships: Simeon, MC

Characters: Simeon, Main Character

Additional Tags: afab!MC (you/your, they/them), smut, dumbification, MC wears a skirt, sex dream(?), nipple play, degrading language (Simeon calls MC dumb, stupid, slut), finger sucking, vaginal fingering, pussy slapping, pussy job, light choking, possessiveness, vaginal penetration, overstimulation, pet name (pet), cockwarming (oral)

Summary: You and Simeon have an agreement: when living in the Devildom gets too restricting, forcing you to be someone you aren't, you can rely on each other to let go. He helps you stop worrying and you let him indulge in his less than pure desires.

A/N: If I missed a tag let me know. There are so many in here that I probably missed something.

Word Count: 5k

Being the only human in the Devildom was hard. You always had to be on your guard around any demon that wasn't one of the brothers, Diavolo, or Barbatos because they were as likely to eat you as they were to give you directions to the library. Sure, there was Solomon but he was closer to a demon than a fellow human in many ways. He couldn't relate to your feelings of always having to be on edge and justifying your place in the exchange program. The marks all over his skin spoke for themselves in a way you couldn't. You couldn't even let up in front of your friends for fear they'd be disappointed in learning how much of a struggle it was for you to fit into their home. Holding yourself together all the time was exhausting.

That's why you came to him. He wasn't human, but you were sure he was the one person who would understand. After all, being an angel in a crowd of demons couldn't have been any easier. He was the only other person who understood what you needed. He was the only one who could help you through another strenuous week.

Your knuckles rapped against the door of Purgatory Hall as you anxiously waited for an answer. You had messaged him beforehand and he'd accepted you coming over, so you didn't know what you had to fret about, but you did. It felt like eons of standing there before the handle finally turned and the door creaked open.

The man you knew all too well was beautiful as he stood in the doorframe to welcome you in; skin soft and smooth with nary a flaw or imperfection in sight, eyes that shimmered like the sun off the surface of the calmest ocean, hair that very well may have been made of dyed silk, lips that were full and inviting even when pulled back into a smile to show off his luminous teeth, and that was just his face. That was nothing to say on his broad yet somehow still slim shoulders, the pectorals you could see straining against the fabric of his thin shirt, the long fingers, the subtle muscles rippling in his biceps, or his long delicate and dexterous fingers still wrapped around the handle.

It was unfair to only look at him, but you didn't come here to look and he knew that as much as you did. Surely that's why he was standing in front of you like this, trying to tempt you as much as possible.

"Hello there," Simeon said through his charming smile as he widened the door to let you slip inside.

You returned his greeting as you walked in.

It was strangely quiet as he shut the door behind you. You were actually surprised not to hear anything but the patting of his feet against the ground as he took your hand in his and started walking toward and up the stairs.

"Where is-"

"Gone," he answered before you could finish the question. "It's just us two. Sorry if you wanted to say hello to anyone else."

No. In fact, it was probably better that it was just you two. You didn't expect anything to get out of hand, but it meant you could fully let go without worry. That thought alone was already a relief.

"I believe we will have the entire night to ourselves. Maybe even all of tomorrow, though that's only a possibility." He stopped speaking as he came to the door of his room. "Would you like to come in?"

This was your last opportunity to turn away. You could go back downstairs and decide to have tea instead. You could stay the night on the living room couch or he could bring you back to the House of Lamentation if you didn't want to walk alone. He was offering you the chance to change your mind if you wanted, but you came here exactly for this reason. You were here to see beyond that door and you wouldn't be leaving until you did.

The room was dark, so dim it felt like it was lit by candles more than electricity. It felt old, almost too old for someone as young as Simeon, but then you recalled he was so much older than he seemed and it put everything into perspective. Maybe to him this decor felt new and modern. It was charming in its own way.

"Feel free to take a seat anywhere you'd like," he offered as he shut the door behind you and waited to see what you'd do next.

You opened and closed your fists a few times, taking a deep breath to let the anxiety flow out of your bones before deciding to move over to the loveseat. You wouldn't dare presume to head to his bed.

He showed no reaction on his face as he watched you sink into the cool, chocolate leather of his seating. "Would you care for a drink or something?"

You shook your head.

Simeon stepped closer to you. "Are you certain? I'd hate to be a bad host."

This time you nodded.

The seat beneath you sank as Simeon settled beside you. "Then what would you like to do?"

You turned your gaze to him. His bright eyes looked back at you with a subtle smile as he waited for you to make the first move, which you did by laying your head against his shoulder. The scent clinging faintly to his skin reminded you of freshly baked cinnamon rolls as they came out of the oven. Maybe it was the remnants of his last baking venture or maybe it was natural for him to smell so sweet and light; he always did have the faint scent of vanilla underneath everything else.

He rested his hand against your shoulder and somehow pulled you closer still, squishing your face against that broadly thin frame of his. “You’re stiff,” he observed with a chuckle. “You’re free to relax.”

Except you couldn’t. You had practiced maintaining yourself and holding your head high in front of others for so long that you couldn’t drop it that easily. Even in front of him who knew about carrying himself so others couldn’t tear him down, you were too trained to let the charade end. It was because of that that all you could do was continue to shake your head.

Then,” he cupped your cheek in his hand and pulled your face toward his, leaning closer to you, “I will help you relax.”

He was slow and meticulous as he pressed his lips against yours, starting almost hesitantly as he tested the waters of your defenses. Your body went rigid against him, but you didn’t push him away. This is what you wanted. This is why you were here. You wanted him to lead you to a place where you could finally let go. You weren’t fighting him on that front, simply waiting for him to drag you under the way he knew you wanted.

As he pressed more kisses against your mouth, his lips perfectly plush as they captured your upper one and began to deepen his affections. He snaked his hands under the hem of your shirt and let them roam higher up your body until they rested against your breasts. You could feel him pull up your bra and replace it with his hands, letting his thumbs tease at your nipples until they were standing and begging for his attention. Heat pooled beneath his hands, swirling around your chest as he stole your breath away.

He was, as far as the public was concerned, supposed to be a holy man. His desires were supposed to be as pure as he was, but you knew better. You knew he was only holy in the same way that you were holding yourself together. Beneath it all, you were both just liars fooling everyone around you except for each other, who wanted something only the other could give.

He broke away from the kiss. "It's not enough, is it?"

It was never enough. Not this time or the time before that or the time before that. Neither of you could be satiated by only this. Not until you could both let go of the masks you wore in front of everyone else.

"Then allow me to give you what you really crave," he whispered with his lips against yours.

The hands on your breasts abandoned their spot to slide down to your hips and lift you up just enough to slip you onto his lap, pressing your back against his chest and resting your knees on top of his. He gently placed his hand against your thigh.

Slowly, carefully, he began to lift the skirt that went just past your knees. You wore a skirt for this specific reason. Long and heavy so it wouldn't ride up when you didn't want it to, but loose and flowy so he could easily push it aside.

He rolled the fabric up to your stomach, purposefully dragging his fingers along the meat of your thigh the entire way before dropping the skirt edge and sinking his hand between your legs. A single finger ran down your slit lying just below the fabric of your boyshorts which he made an effort to move aside.

You spread your legs trying to make it easier for him to touch you, only for a jolt to pass through your cunt and up your spine as he slapped the flat of his hand against you. You opened your mouth to scream, only to find him slipping the middle and forefinger of his free hand into your mouth to muffle your noises.

He leaned his head over your shoulder, pressing his lips next to your ear as he quietly shushed you. "I know, Sweetheart. Shh, I know."

The sting was still fresh when he began to rub his hand over the spot he'd just hit. Slowly, the pain began to fade, giving way to a dull pleasure as he stroked you through the fabric of your boyshorts. You were sure he could feel the wet spot forming where the fabric stubbornly clung to your needy, neglected sex, but he said nothing about it.

"Stop thinking and allow yourself to let go. If you need to move, I'll do it for you." he said as he pulled away from your sex to snap his fingers.

A hazy vision filled your eyes like a vision. It was like walking in on a dream, cloudy at the edges and covered in a layer of mist. It wasn't a dream though, it was a memory; one in which you were on full display from the behind with your ass raised in the air, legs spread wide while your chest was pressed against the bed. In the vision, your pussy was dripping so much that it left your thighs coated in slick that shimmered in the dim light overhead.

"Don't they look happy?" Simeon whispered as his hand returned to slowly stroking the folds hiding just behind your underwear. "Showing off their body, hoping that someone will touch them?" His lips ghosted over the shell of your ear, holding back laughter as you shuddered in his lap. "You were so wet and ready for me, staying exactly the way I wanted you. An obedient little pet waiting for Master's attention. I can make you feel that way again. That is what you came here for, after all. Is it not?"

You tried to speak around his fingers, struggling to make the proper sounds with your mouth full. "Shime-"

"Shh," the sound slipped past his teeth as he pushed his fingers further back into your mouth, pressing them against the back of your throat. "Don't say anything. The only thing you have to do is what I say."

You wanted to melt against him, possibly even into him. Even as drool pooled around his fingers and dribbled out the sides of your mouth, you didn't feel embarrassed. No. All you felt was a blissful peace seeping into your mind. Muscles you hadn't even realized were tensed suddenly relaxed as he held you. You didn't have to hold on anymore. You could leave everything up to him.

He tenderly kissed your cheek as he felt you go limp for him, wishing he could sink you onto his cock just like this; so pliant and calm for him, but he knew you hadn't let go completely yet. He could still see a spark in your eyes just past the vision he was showing you, one that meant there were still too many thoughts in that pretty head of yours. But you had been good for now, so you deserved a reward.

The vision faded away as his hand finally slipped under the fabric of your boyshorts, two fingers dipping between your legs to graze against your sex. Slowly, he began to pet at your slit, following the line of your body as he held you in his lap. He pressed his fingers just past your pussy lips, dragging his finger through the growing slick between your legs.

He chuckled softly. "Aww, this precious place of yours is already so wet. Did you want me to touch you that badly?"

Mhm. You wanted him. You wanted to be good for him. His fingers were like sweet torture as he pushed them just past your pussy lips again to gather more of your essence to rub around your puffy clit in slow, confident circles.

"Good pet." He was so proud of you for remembering not to say a thing to answer him, but also a little disappointed. He wanted to hear you sing for him because you couldn't hold back anymore. You were cute following his orders, but you would be even cuter once your brain turned off and you couldn't even understand them.

He almost felt bad when he slapped your pussy again just so he could hear you whine for him, but that feeling quickly passed when your pretty voice was drowned out around his fingers. Oh, he was enjoying you more than he should be, but that's what you both were here for.

He pumped the fingers in your mouth, pressing down on your tongue and enjoying the sound of you gagging around them. It was just like how he knew you loved your cunt played with and he knew you recognized it as soon as your clit throbbed under his other hand. Your nipples poked through the fabric of your top and he couldn't help but chuckle at how cute you were. If only he had more hands to focus on every beautiful part of your body.

As soon as your legs started to tremble, he knew just how close you were. You were such a good thing. So willing and pliant.

He slipped his fingers out of your mouth and wrapped them around your neck, tilting back your head while his other fingers violently rubbed your clit. "Tell me: what are you?"

You knew you were looking at him, but you couldn't focus on anything. Every nerve in your body was focused solely on how tight your stomach felt. Still, you knew he told you to speak. "Huh…"

Another jolt of pain as he slapped your aching clit again before going back to rubbing it. "What are you? You know the answer."

You were so close. The knot in your stomach was being pulled tighter and tighter and soon you knew it would snap. "Cum. Wanna cu- Augh!" You screamed as he slapped you again between his assault on your poor clit.

"Not until you answer the question." His hand gently squeezed your neck. "What are you? What have you always been?"

"Y-yours," the words fell heavy off your lips.

"My what?" He pressed harder at the sensitive bundle of nerves as his speed picked up. "Say it."

Your eyes rolled in the back of your head as your legs began to twitch, desperately trying not cum until he told you to. "Your pet. All yours."

"My dumb little pet." A smile crossed Simeon's face as he laid a kiss on your temple. "Cum for me."

As soon as the words were out of his mouth, your body let go. The knot inside of you snapped completely as you slapped your legs closed around his hand and came to the fingers that refused to stop teasing your clit even as you erupted beneath them. The little shocks and shudders that rolled through you painted the loveliest picture for him. It was truly divine to watch you do as told, especially with something as rebellious and difficult to tame as an orgasm. Yet, if you thought that was all he had in store for you, you were naive at best and willfully ignorant at worst. He could work with either.

He didn't give you time to rest before shoving the same fingers that had just been rubbing your swollen clit straight into your cunt. It didn't matter how tight your walls were, they slid in so easily.

Fuck, you were soaked. The squelching sound of his fingers pistoning in and out of your wet heat was so lewd that it made his cock stir against your ass. The hand still around your neck squeezed gently and your cunt clenched down on his fingers.

Every scrape against your insides made you gasp and whine. Your last orgasm was still fresh and you were so sensitive. Die. You were going to die. He was going to drown you in pleasure until it fried your brain and there was nothing left of you.

You grabbed at his wrist, trying to hold onto him and stop him from touching you, only to feel him push another finger inside with a small tsk.

"None of that now." His voice washed over you like cool water. "You were so good for me. You deserve this. Good pets deserve to be spoiled and feel good."

You felt your body relaxing, muscles untensing as you listened to his words. No, it wasn't you relaxing. It was him relaxing you.

"Isn't that so much easier?" His voice was echoing in your head, distracting you as his hand slipped out of you – something that made you whine without realizing it – and quickly moved to pull your underwear down your legs and drop them onto the floor before returning to their original position.

Simeon placed his lips against the back of your neck, ghosting them over your shoulders and sucking at your skin until he left a mark. All the while his fingers moved in and out of you, starting shallow and slowly going deeper and deeper.

The hand still around your throat finally let go and moved down your sternum, trailing feather light touches across your skin until he found one of your hard nipples and gave it a tentative pinch. He couldn't help but think that the surprised squeak you made was too cute, but he would rather hear something else instead. Something like your screams. How far could he go until you couldn’t hold them back anymore?

"Don't stop now," he said as his fingers assaulted you in the most delicious of ways. The one against your chest rolled your nipple, tugging at it as he slowly added more fingers inside of you and thumbed at your clit. "I want to watch my good pet cum their stupid little brain out "

"I ca- Ahhh!" You tried to speak, but we're cut off by another orgasm chasing the previous so quickly.

"Shhh. Don't talk. Just cum." That was all he wanted of you; to cum until you couldn't anymore and then keep cumming because he told you to.

He curled his fingers inside of you, pressing them against a tender spot that had you collapsing against him. Your entire body went limp against him, shaking from climax after climax as he forcefully pulled them out of you; pulled them out of your aching, needy cunt.

Simeon was up to three fingers by the time he finally decided he was done, pulling his fingers out of you at last and stopping the endless orgasms and giving you the chance to rest. You never knew cumming could hurt so much. You realized your respite was brief, however, as you felt him awkwardly fidgeting with his pants to fish out his hard cock.

"You're staring," he teased with a whisper in your ear.

You couldn't help it. It looked angry; the veins popping out and the tip already leaking. Just seeing it made you moan for him, like your body knew you were meant to wrap it up and make him feel good. If you were going to die, at least it would be in service to his cock.

While he appreciated the lust painted across your face, it wasn't enough. He wanted you to fall even lower. He wanted you to reduce yourself to nothing.

He grabbed your hips, pushing your lower body forward so he could rub your cunt against his erection. The glistening trail of slick painted across his cock wherever you touched was beautiful. Your legs trembled each time the head of his cock bumped against your sensitive, overly abused clit.

"Do you enjoy this?" His voice was so melodious and sweet as he spoke. It felt like you would get lost in it. "You can do the work yourself, can't you? Press your thighs together and help us both feel good."

You couldn't nod. It was too hard to even understand the words coming out of his mouth.

He chuckled darkly, moving his hands to push your thighs tight around his rock hard length. "Like this. Move your hips like a good pet."

Every muscle in your body felt heavy, but you couldn't help but do what he demanded of you. You curled your heels against the edge of the couch, pushing down on them so you could lift your hips to grind against him. Your legs wrapping around his cock kept him in place while your slick folds rubbed him from tip to base.

"Just like that," he mumbled softly in your ear as he watched you glide over his full length. "Make yourself cum again just like that."

Oh, he wanted to cum too. Wanted to see your thighs painted white with every terrible impulse you inspired in him. Holding back so you could ruin yourself on him before he completely tainted you was his own kind of punishment. Feeling your pussy flutter against his shaft, hearing you cry out in another orgasm, seeing your eyes glazed over as more thoughts poured out of you, all of it snapped the last of his patience.

You couldn't keep going. Your legs were tired, your voice was hoarse, you were pretty sure your brain was melting out of your ear. That didn’t matter though. All that mattered was that you were still there, ready to accept whatever he had planned for you regardless of how you felt about it. Knowing that, he finally repositioned himself and pushed his cock head inside of you, feeling how your walls loosened to welcome him in but still squeezed him like you didn't want to let go.

"Aww, are you getting tired?" He condescended with a smile in his voice. "I would be happy to help you rest."

He wrapped his hands under your knees, letting you lean back against his chest for balance as he stood up and lifted you into the air. He was careful to keep you impaled on his cock as he walked with you toward the bed where he tossed you onto it facedown, ass sticking straight in the air where he took his place over you.

The sudden gasp you made as you hit the mattress was accentuated by your walls pulsing around him. Even as nothing more than a warm hole seeking the satisfaction of orgasm after orgasm at his hands, you insisted on seducing him.

"Even after all of that," he taunted as he thrust the rest of himself into you, bottoming out in one stroke that made you scream like a porn star, "you have such a tight, wet cunt. It's like you were begging for a cock to finally stretch you open. Did you want me inside of you that badly?”

His question was accentuated by the sound of your pussy gushing and your adorable panting as he began to pump into you. Each time he hit the back of your cunt you made the cutest squeak in surprise, as if you forgot just how deeply he was carving you out. You were so adorable taking his cock, your tits bouncing each time he thrust forward, your mouth hanging open with your tongue lolling out of your mouth.

"You're more of a slut than a pet." That's what your expression reminded him of. You had no shame left inside of you to be embarrassed by the state you were in and it made his cock twitch. "Would you like that? Being my dumb little cock addicted slut instead of my spoiled pet?"

You couldn't answer him, nor did he expect you to. However, he was pleased when your cunt convulsed around him and you gasped so sweetly.

"Did you cum? No one told you that you could," he chastised in a mocking tone, "buuuut I'll forgive you this time because sluts like you don't know better. Just make sure you listen to me now. I'll tell you when you're allowed to do that."

And he did. Over and over again your walls spasmed around him as you came at his command. Somewhere between the endless assault of pleasure and the sensation of his cock pounding you so thoroughly it felt like he was shaping your insides. Your body started to follow his directions and began to cum when he ordered you to because it was only him that could make you feel so good

"Again, slut," he said. "Cum for me." And you had no choice but to. You had no choice but to clench down on his length and curve your spine as another orgasm ripped through your exhausted body.

He was going to kill you. He was going to murder you with his cock and you would happily die cumming for him.

"Once more." Simeon couldn't help but laugh as he watched the light leave your eyes and your mouth twist into a smile as you came for him yet again despite having just done it only seconds earlier. "Aww, did I break that dumb brain of yours?"

The only answer he got was your pussy clenching down around him again.

"There you go," he cooed as he weaved his fingers between yours. "Such a good slut, cumming all over my cock. You're so adorable." His hips smacked against yours, rhythm growing erratic as he looked down into your hazy, unfocused eyes.

"Come on," he panted, "stay nice and tight for me so I can fill up your slutty cunt." His hands gripped yours tighter. "Such a dumb slut. A good, braindead, cock addicted whore."

There was no warning as he pushed into you one last time, shooting burning hot ropes of cum as deep inside of you as he could. Your body accepted it all willingly. You were born to accept it all, everything he had to give you no matter what it was.

As he started to pull out, you groaned and whimpered at the sensation of his cock dragging against your overly sensitive walls. You were practically screaming as his length finally popped out of your twitching, pulsing, overstimulated pussy. You couldn't take anymore of him. If he fucked you again – made you cum anymore – you wouldn't just die, you would break completely.

"Shhh," he whispered as he kissed the side of your face. "No giving up on me now. You did such a good job milking my cock, but you're not done yet."

Simeon sat up from over you, moving to lean his back flush against the headboard, knees bent up and spread apart as he manhandled your exhausted body and yanked at your hair to pull your head into his lap, pressing your face against his softening, glistening cock. "You made a mess so hurry and clean it up."

You opened your mouth without protest, tongue rolling out to lap at his length. Somewhere deep in the back of your mind you recognized the taste of yourself and how good it was mixed with his, but it felt less important than serving the cock he shoved in front of you.

"You can do better than that," he said as he cupped his hand under your chin, pinching at your jaw to force your mouth open and place the smooth, slightly salty head of his cock inside.

You began to mindlessly suckle at the cock he presented to you. He almost felt bad for using you past exhaustion, but one look at the content expression on your face and the blank look in your eyes pushed that guilt aside.

You laid motionless against him as his cum seeped out of your lovingly abused pussy and remnants of your own slick that you'd licked off his cock clung to your lips. It was cute how you couldn't hold it all in, making a mess of his carefully laid bedsheets below.

"Good pet."

Simeon took his hand out of your hair, switching to brushing it over your cheek. There was a burning heat spreading across your skin that sent a flutter through his stomach. You were so beautiful. Completely mindless and beautiful and tired, and it was time to finally let you rest. Maybe later he would take advantage of the fact that you two had the entirety of Purgatory Hall to yourselves. Later, after he had his fill of admiring the stupidly happy, blank look on your face and the warmth of your mouth.

#2af writes #obey me smut #simeon smut #afab fic #cw dumbification #cw nipple play #cw degradation #cw vaginal penetration #cw choking #cw possessiveness #cw overstimulation #cw cock warming

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