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joannasteez · 7 months ago

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almost blue (1)

pairing: cody rhodes x black reader warning: explicit descriptions of violence and sexual activity. minors please do not interact. readers eighteen and older interact only please. descriptions of alcohol consumption and the use of deadly weapons. authors note: JOHN WICK AU!!! so excited to share this! i had this sorta kinda in my back pocket for a while, while trying to build up tanks of blood, which you can find to read here. not everything in this is super true to the world of john wick but the most im using as inspo is the aesthetic anyways. also a one off mention of john wick lol. that and some of the names for certain things. italics in the beginning represent flashback perspective music inspo: almost blue by chet baker word count: 4800 tagging: @333creolelady @harmshake @theninthwonder @kill-the-artiste @empressdede @southerngirl41 @2-muchsauce @crxssjae

new york. the continental hotel and it's flatiron shape. september 2019. the rain, this soft unsteady pitter patter. a gentle gray coloring the sky. the air cold and biting. the city filling its brim with a sleepless droning.

and amongst the deathly sort of decadence—gold trim and blood red carpet floors—bath water disturbs till its sloshing to overtake the tub. a messy spill against the floor. his lips working over yours. fingers kneading deep enough into skin that it stains with the print of his touch. nails tender in his hair and your body melting in till the heat of him breaks over your skin. his everything settled into the wisp and charm of your voice as his pleasure becomes whole. too great.

—but his memory tires from old moments like these, a shell of itself as it attempts in vain to restore to it's former glory. has been in a perpetual state of exhaustion for sometime. but this straining is singular. a throbbing at the forefront of his skull. a tight pulling pain at the nape of his neck till it's creeping wild at the tip of his spine. forcing him to grow ill as he works to reminisce. body wistfully undone. and what words do the men of our time say about insanity? to be in a perpetual state of trying, doing, in hopes of something new. and so on he went, flirting with this disaster, this run of nostalgia, so much so that memory has forsaken him, taking these little complexities —the new york rain and the taste of your lips— along with it.

but cody can handle the load and reload of a glock 26 as fast as he does it well. a deft maneuvering before the barrel raises and he pulls the trigger, the recoil driving sharp. a bullet through the skull and the splattering of blood. whoever meant to kill him, now dead in his wake.

but what cruelty this is. a traitor to his own body. living with nothing but the means to kill and tattered memory. with him still, only, all of the things left unsaid—

you'd smelt of vanilla. the yearning about his tongue deep and yet to be settled. his lips a shadow as they feathered against yours. his questions overdone with a frightening passion. "where are you ten years from now?"

your fingers slipped over his skin, as easy as they would over porcelain. a delicate taking over wet soapy muscle till it clawed over his shoulders and against the heat of his cheeks. "somewhere warm and comfortable. retired".

where ever you were, is where he wanted to be. "am i with you?"

a reversion, just barely perceptible, but there all the same. something like fear, like hesitation, pushing against a situational sort of tenderness in your eyes. the warmth slowly but forcibly outdone by the cold. lukewarm. just like the fate of too old bath water. not enough of either extreme. lukewarm.

"seems more like a question for you to answer".

"answer it anyways".

and he couldn't feel your lips anymore. too much air, too much distance. caution thick. woven about your words. the tones. the inflections. "ten years from now, you'll be somewhere as warm, as comfortable and retired too".

"am i with you?"

to draw such a long length of need into the air. passions and hopes and dreams. cody knew. it would've been easier to take the sear of a bullet, the ripping tear in of a knife or the crack of something blunt and unforgiving to his skull. those things easier than the down trod of such a silence. your eyes having gained more and more distance. fear peaking soft and brown before the quick slip over of indifference. like you didn't care for his whispered words sounding too much like forever. and recovery from bullets and knives and blunt force was tedious. sewn up skin and the reformation of fine motor skill. but this. the way you suffered him to feel the drift away of your body and the simple, delicate, eager push in of your touch. something in his heart—amongst the lukewarm water—failed. this low dropping into a less lively place.

new york. the continental hotel and its flatiron shape. june 2024. a peak of the sun amidst more grayish than white clouds against an icy pale blue sky. the air breezy with a teasing smell of rain. like a stray tendril before some great unraveling. the city as sleepless as it's ever been.

and amongst the deathly sort of decadence—scarlet sage in bloom and the ever present air of readymade violence—cody sips at a short glass of brandy. an edgy spike to his tongue as it settles. everything of the continental he possessed now lost to time and the overwork of his sore tired memory. lost to a bout of corrosion done by words left unsaid. because he did not remember your answer after the persistence of his "am i with you?” all thats left, this great blurring. of words and the finer littler complexities. your lips and your eyes and the soft ways of your touch. and maybe it came to be this way for good reason. using such a burn to his ego to fuel the fire of his rage. revenge for memories unforgettable. around the glass of brandy, his hands feel stronger. less careful in how they hold. caution be damned. he sips again to finish. his finger buttoning his suit jacket, making way from the bar and across the communal space of the hotel.

warmth at his ear and a twitch in his trigger finger. something like eyes resting over him. watching him.

he continues to a connecting hallway. elevators and mosaic floors. maybe the brandy wasn't the best idea, but neither was coming to such sacredly awful ground. lovers trauma and all that bullshit jazz.

the fourteenth floor is quiet. his steps carpeted by soft wool. a second twitch in his trigger finger that leads into the sharp driving heat reminiscent of staggering gun recoil. a sweet burning in his arm, the muscles knowing, remembering. but he has nothing of use on him. nothing to snuff out and quiet that vicious call of death. his hotel room styled with a modernistic flare to it's luxury. clean and unadorned. a simple reflection of his own style thankfully, but nothing extravagant to weaponize. he would have to, if needed, to make due. a slim ball point pen, sleek and multifunctional, rests next to a complimentary bottle of wine. "enjoy your stay", in cursive. cody feels the warmth at the tip of his ear again, something greater than a simple bout of paranoia. his fingers slip the pen into his pocket, a reversing in his steps to triple check the locking function of the room doors.

and he shouldn't be so wound up should he? conducting business was, is, has always been forbidden on hotel grounds.

his fight or flight saying otherwise. breathing over his skin overwhelmingly warm. lingering wearily. intuition always a nagging son of a bitch but never wrong. it's never failed him.

cody showers, stands amidst the icy rain of too cold water. cody showers, because warm baths terrify something in his body. the possibility of turning stale and lukewarm. too distant and uninviting to be either extreme. like eyes and soft lips he can barely form well enough to reimagine.

and the bed sheets are welcoming. slipping along his skin with a delicate relief. but still, something feels wrong. a heaviness to the air that precedes this faithful old tryst with life. with death. the ring of his phone working to unburden him suddenly, but for only some seconds. the number blocked. he answers, rushing to fish that ball point pen from his dress pants. sleek and multifunctional in his grip. but the urgency in his maneuvering cuts short with the slip in of something dangerously angelic. memory sore and exhausted no more, but now rushing back to him fervid and unrelenting. a tender charming tone in his ear that disrupts the stalwart build of his resolve. september 2019. june 2024. five years of an almost complete pain. icy feeling wind with the teasing of a torrential down pour. almost there but not quite. the anger and the pain never red enough. the sadness almost blue.

"the loft in tribeca" you start. cody commits it all to memory. the words, the tones, the inflections. shuffling to rough his pants on. pen in his pocket. phone wedged to his ear as his fingers rip off the casing of a pillow. body easy as it maneuvers to protect his six o'clock, leaning against the wall. his eyes scope along the room. an over examination. waiting. "if you're not dead in the next 30 minutes, meet me there".

the call drops.

the slow unlocking click of his hotel room door. his muscles burn with remembrance. eyes sharp. his ears attune. the shells of them warm. cautioned steps approach the entry way of the bedroom but they fail to go unnoticed. thudding against the soft carpet. and if not for the possibility of his demise, cody would laugh. surely this was amateur hour. boots and inconspicuous were no more suited together than suede in the rain. and he'd made that rookie mistake before. back when he was a rookie. but the high table were no idiots, sending rookies to bring his head in, unless they hated him that much and felt he should feel the brunt of that hatred with some disrespect. and disrespect it was.

cody's breath holds. his head thumping against the wall before he makes a swift crouch to his knees. a gun rounding the corner, and a bullet flying aimed for where his head had knocked in. a simple quick diversion. nothing special or particularly extravagant, but enough to give him seconds to maneuver. and oh this is disrespect in deed. dominik mysterio the source of his current heavy breathed, adrenaline rushing circumstance. cody knuckling the hold of the still upward pointed gun with a punch before another sinks into domink's abdomen. a short grunt breaking from the scrappy, ill-sophisticated, mullet wearing piece of shit. and surely dominik is more of a piece of shit when his heavy boot toughs into cody's jaw. racing for the gun.

but cody is quick. has felt and faced harsher things. if anything, its more of an irritation he feels than a full measure of pain. it was hard maintaining good skin considering the life he led. he spits against the carpet. iron on his tongue. red staining the clean line designs. he reaches for dominik's leg just before he's in reach of the gun. pulling him near and flipping him over quickly. a rough hand in the silk of domink's mullet as he rains down punches with the other. cody ill satisfied as he hears the sloppy singing of grunts from the younger mysterio. and as his frustration mounts, swindled by the audacity of the high table, dominik gains an advantage. his hips shifting up to propel cody, his arms lean and tight and trapping over cody's and rolling.

"you three piece suit, hugo boss wannabe wearing motherfucker", dominik's face bloody and angry. his fists balled and quick as he comes down against cody's face.

the impression of the pen presses into cody's thigh. memory and dexterity working like a trained muscle. amidst the barrage of fists, cody reaches for the sleek ball point pen. clicking the tip and rushing it into dominik's side. harsh vicious stabs till the pain takes hold enough for him to hesitate. plunging the inky tip into his neck, where blood flows to gush. breaking up out of his skin. choking on air and the pain of a slow to come death.

"bulletproof three piece suits asshole", cody roughs out. kicking dominik for satisfaction.

if you're not dead in the next 30 minutes, meet me there

the loft is the same. unadorned by that uncanny but natural weathering of time and neglect. warm homely autumn inspired tones with splashes of green and hand carved wooden furniture. cody ever the horrendous sucker for hand carved shit. an intimate union of labor and passion. ever the reflection of a once lively relationship. carefully cultivated, ending poorer than a bastard dying with his eyes wide open. because when you go that way, you deserve it. but cody? his passions didn't deserve that violent abrupt end. and yet here he is, creeping past the entrance. a painful stuttering of footfalls as he goes. muscles sore and his skin on fire.

dominik mysterio was a warm up. a warning even. the call must've went out. a bounty worth enough for people to try him. the train ride to tribeca interestingly violent. a woman with a knife, a man with a gun and another thinking his bare hands were some great unstoppable force. and no, cody did not make quick work of them. not as quickly as he would've liked. but he managed. and at the very least, he'd suffered a slitting cut to his cheek and a laceration to his chest. that piece of shit running the blade right through his tattoo. some maybe secondary bruising and a bad headache. but he's not dead. not like the idiots that tried and failed to kill him.

the loft, much like the continental hotel, is agreed upon neutral ground. a place for trysts and the sharing of information. or rather, thats what it used to be. now, cody isn't so sure.

and his limping is pathetically loud. shoes a heavy clack against the floor. makes him bristle annoyed. you stand just behind the kitchen island. wine bottle opened. a glass in hand as you sip. more beautiful than he remembers. soft looking still, your eyes casting over the rim as you sip, undeniably deceptive.

a gun lays easy on the coffee table sat between two couches. too easy. but his displeasure gets the best of him. he shifts for it quickly. a swift up of his hands positioned about the gun, aiming for your face.

you knew his whereabouts. so much so that you knew the whereabouts of the people trying to kill him. taking the chance to trust could cost him his life. and cody quite likes his life.

"you had me scared a little bit". a gentle float of words. a finger dancing along the rim of the wine glass. a daring stare down the barrel of the gun. "i thought you got bested by a second rate mysterio". and when cody doesn't move, captured by pain, caution and the mystique of your presence, your eyes roll. his form fixed and perfected. trigger finger cool, but his heart unsure. "cut the melodrama. put the gun down cody".

"you knew i was being followed", he clips. jaw tight.

"i mean...duh...", you give. dry and teasing. finishing your wine. "half of that was me, and lets not be silly", covering the length of distance between your bodies slowly. a stalking patience. a fierce feline approach. "you shot a bullet through the skull of one of thee most important men. finding out don't come cheap when you fuck with the high table".

"everybody seems to forget I had to bury my father", the barrel of the gun kept high with perfect aim as you near closer. "killing that sack of shit was just me evening the score".

"i didn't kill your father cody".

was that sincerity? empathy? a sudden waft in of warmth after years in the cold. it felt unreal. true but unreal. and he was sure it wouldn't last.

"obviously", cody bites out.

your forehead nestles against the barrel of the gun. his memory overwrought. his senses in a frenzy. a horrible mixture in his skin of pain and elation. steeped with the fear of having to endure another sudden vanishing. angry that such an endurance was his portion in the first place.

"so then why is the gun still pointed at me?"

his fixed form eases. your hand slipping the gun from his hold gently. fire over his skin as you touch him for the first time in five years. a deft maneuvering about the cold heavy metal to expose the contents of the magazine. amusement coloring your eyes and spreading over your mouth for a teasing little smile.

"they're blanks anyways", emptying the magazine as the faux bullets fall to the floor. your hand settling down the gun and its magazine on the coffee table. leaving him in an exasperated awe as you head toward the kitchen. "just wanted to see how thin your patience has worn".

your chin jutting over to the couch. hands full of medical supplies as you pad over to him softly. his body aching and slow as it rests into the tender leather seating, but moving without delay still. always under the gentle charm of your voice, his being falling under this servile sort of subjection. making him bristle silently within himself. all that time and distance amounting to nothing for his resolve.

cody surrenders. mind over matter no longer needed. succumbing to the full weight of his pain. hair messy with red droppings of other peoples blood. his muscles sore and the hammering about his skull diligent and taunting.

"my pain has always been a funny little joke to you".

you pull the coffee table closer to the wide spread of cody's legs. your own slipping over to straddle the strength of one of his thighs. your body warm and comforting against his skin. an old feeling blooming in his chest. you were doing this on purpose. he's sure of it. to see him waver and yield to the charm of your presence. gentle touch dabbing to rid his cheek of dried blood before you went about cleaning the wound. his fingers itching to form to your body, desperate to push dull nails into your skin again. to form in and caress with the intent to renew his memory.

your eyes flit to his crotch. "its a lot more than little. give yourself some credit", you muse. applying butterfly stitches.

the air is thick. forces him to maintain a steady breath. memory overwrought once more. a mighty rushing in that heats him whole. your hands working his button up open. the lax take of your palm to his belly forcing a throb to the crux of his thighs. the closing in of the distance makes for easy intimacy. a registration of the lesser noticeable, more complex things. the prick of your nails telling familiar stories, as they work to rid him of the shirt all together. tender and caring, similar to how they used to be. your eyes roaming and thinly glazed over. he spares a glance at the wine bottle. halfway done. your ministrations functional but indulgent of the moment. of his skin.

a quicksand sort of state of affairs. if he doesn't pull himself together now, he would fall into you. full consumption. and he can't possibly risk his life because he's half hard and overdone with sentiment.

"how long have you been following me?"

you apply something like a salve after cleaning the nasty chest wound. an anesthetic. how sweet of you. to suddenly take his pain into consideration.

"a few months".

"why am i not dead?"

your body adjusts a top of him. somehow closer. your knee nearly running into his crotch. "yet", you give. beginning the process of suturing. "the question everyone wants to know is why is cody rhodes not dead yet". breaking shortly to peer over him. a full examination it seems. heat rising in his cheeks. "cause he's no john fuckin wick. so why is he still here". pressure of the needle feeding into his skin. your lip tucking under your teeth in full concentration. "people don't know resilience is the bane of even your own existence. a little meat puppet made to take push pins".

he scoffs. "this doesn't feel like a compliment if it is".

you finish off the suture. a hesitant but delicate maneuvering off his thigh to rid of the medical supplies. the heat of you gone in an instant. "its an observation". the uncorking pop of that half drunken wine bottle. a generous crimson pour that you sip at.

"on what basis exactly?"

a whipping swing of kitchen cabinet doors. a bottle of brandy and a short glass. for him it seems. and the pained parts of him grow excited at the possibility of a simple taste. anything for a temporary fix. something to numb the burn in his bones.

"very close encounters".

and no you don't dip into the leather to sit beside him when you return. you assume a much more compromising position. a full straddle of his legs as you gift him his little amber colored remedy. and if at any moment he ever thought he needed it and actually didn't, let this be the moment where that edgy spike to his tongue becomes essential. something to help him as he searches for a secure hold at control. and of course he drinks it all. an easy burning slip against the back of his throat as he feels the heat of you settling back into him. once dormant urges awakening in his fingers. supple thighs lined up over his kevlar woven dress pants. the baggy button up you'd decided was good enough for his visit thin and something like revealing. the other details left to his imagination. and God was that prone to running at any moment. tripping and falling away from him well enough till his crotch became to uncomfortable to bare the perfect fit of his pants. your empty hand returning to where it'd been. roaming tenderly against slow but steady bruising skin. his nose picking up the sweet wine on your breath. the glaze about your eyes. thighs over him, clenching slightly.

"you were always a little too indulgent with the wine", cody gives.

your eyes flitting to his crotch again. bulge more prominent. the teasing of your nails inching over past his navel. your throat humming. "and you with me".

"don't think much of it". an attempt made in vain he thinks. feeling the hard throb of himself as soon as the words leave him. "it tends to happen. adrenaline from almost dying multiple times", his thigh knocking up into yours to grab at your attention. tipsy eyes drifting to the cold blue of his. "now spill. why am i still breathing?"

"because the number isn't high enough yet". another sip of wine before turning to rest it at the table. your hands free to run over the muscle of him. about his shoulders till your thumbs are caressing at his nape and the hard cut of his jaw. and that nearly drives him to insanity. the weight of you resting right where he pulses with life. "i take your head now, i'd be settling. and the game of it all ain't that fun right now anyways. its too amateur hour-ish for me. i wanna battle it out with the adults".

"im flattered", cody deadpans.

you smile. thumb soothing over his lip. "as you should be".

"why else", the pulse about his blood wild. an unadulterated beating that coaxes to life the run off of his imagination. his touch a staggering grip at your jaw. pulling your eyes to him. lowly sat pretty brown eyes with a penchant for doing him inexplicably dirty. but they draw him in all the same. his stomach empty. filled with nothing but the slosh of brandy. cody feeds into the daze of it. the possibility of a buzz. your lips a breath from his. desire on your tongue by way of the sweet smell of wine. "talk".

your hips shift over him. a rut into the fabric. friction to appease the ache, he's sure of it. thin panties and the desperate curl in of your nails. running into his scalp. trying to persuade him with tender touches and the charm of such wanton need. and its working. fuck, itsworking well. had worked some time ago and doing well now just the same. because cody, despite such deadly skill, was not immune to this type of torture. could not battle it with stalwart patience or dapper precision. and as you rut against him again, mind clouded by wine and your own intent, his fingers burn to touch you more. not so simple and plain but disgustingly greedy. his lips smooth against the seam of yours. amber brandy and red wine a near perfect melding together.

"fuck", you relent. your nose knocking soft into his. laughing with a wry sort of amusement. "it would stroke your ego to a nice little finish if i did say it wouldn't it?"

cody hums. slips his hold till its anchored about your neck. measured in its pressure. his tongue licking to wet his lips. the slight of it forcing a tremble into your body.

maybe his suffering isn't a lonely one after all.

you whimper. taking a hard swallow.

"vindicate me", cody rasps.

your struggle is apparent. surfaces with a tear that stains your cheek. body undone by the defeat of such an intimate admission.

"i miss you", fragile and nearly unclear.

he smiles mirthless against the soft ways of your skin. his nose buried into the dip of your neck. "i don't trust your sentiment".

"it's true cody".

"she says, after admitting she wants to kill me".

"better me than someone else". your fingers abandoning him to grip into the leather of the couch. a tight take to it that fastens your body into him. your mouth lax as your lips slip over his. the tease of a kiss filled with too much tension to bare. "touch me", you give. a plea and a command all the same.

his fingers working in swiftly, a firm obedience, cupping your cheeks to steady the wild go of your tongue as it snakes to slip at his. a frail whimper singing from your chest and the return of your sharp nails. digging against his scalp to bring him impossibly closer. nearly suckling his tongue whole as your hips rut at him again. a less cautious shifting as you look for harsher friction. the pain of a murderous sort of labor and the pleasure of touching you again warring over the tenderness of his skin. coaxing him to groan and wince. strong, tired fingers forcing your hips to rock over him. an easy, stable grind along the hard bulge of his cock that leaves you living without the proper brilliance of words. reduced to the struggle of too pleasured moans.

your teeth prickling and sharp as they snag against his lip. fingers deft, undoing his zipper. the heat of him hard and throbbing dangerous. his headache out done by more pressing matters, hazy and his senses going numb with lust. palms persistent, sinking into supple flesh. and fuck does it feel good. even better when his patience thins. fingers stretching the fabric of your panties till they tear. the slick way of your arousal making for an easier pace. a sweet teasing slip through your slit. his imagination wild and unfettered. even the thought of slipping in to have his full way with you enough to twist the base of his belly. groaning into your mouth.

fire in his fingers as they pull against the fat of your ass. sweltered skin sweet in his palms. forming with every push and spread and pry that he gives.

your mouths depart. a hesitant slipping away. breaths heavy. your face hiding in the dip of his neck. your pussy messy. bewitching even as you grind mindless into him. an undulating heat over his skin. "cody", a mantra as it travels to slight the beating of his pulse.

the tell tale trembling in your body. a breath away from bliss. and he can feel the build in his bones. the return of an ache thats been transformed. throbbing and restless. an urgency he works to relieve. and with it so does your mouth. less desperate to consume him. melting to linger at his lips. breathy and stuttered.

"right there angel", he gives. a whisper against your lips. corralling the last bits of resolve to break. your hips stuttering but caressing faithful still. coming undone. rutting greedily to grasp at the last bits of pleasure.

and here he finds that charming sort of relief. an unfurling warmth about his skin. snatching your body into him as he strokes against you and throbs, coming undone. release pooling and spurting against the baggy button up you'd worn to tease him with.

your lips finding his again. needy still. and he accepts without wait. ready and willing. your moaning along his tongue delicate and wispy. reminiscent of a memory once forgotten. new york. september 2019. cody cups your face again. thumbs dusting over the apple of your cheeks. on a mission to stain himself with this moment. sweet red wine mixed with aged brandy.

she was getting to be a lil too long so i had to break her up! but how do we feel about our little hitman?

#cody rhodes #cody rhodes fanfiction #cody rhodes fanfic #cody rhodes fic #cody rhodes imagine #cody rhodes smut #john wick au #hitman!cody rhodes #black female reader #dominik mysterio #judgement day trying to kill cody #they dont know hes kinda into the pain thing #cody trying to avenge dusty in every timeline #dom isnt a second rate mysterio #i just needed to get that piece of dialogue off #cody rhodes x reader #cody rhodes x black reader #jd mcdonagh #joannasteez

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golbrocklovely · 1 year ago

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cultish love // colby brock

A/N: first off, so sorry for this being so late, i had a lot of things i had to edit about this fic. also this is my longest fic ever ! like the other fic before this, this is a AU version of colby… where he, you guessed it, is a cult leader. and he is also corrupt (but like aren't all cult leaders). again this deals with some possible heavy themes, so give a good read of the trigger warnings before reading ahead. i've always joked about colby being able to lead a cult, and that's basically where this idea came from. this fic also took a turn i wasn't expecting, but i like it anyway. also the first half is written as a journal entry (all italized) and then the rest is an actual fic (not italized). lmk what you think, and happy haunting !

prompt: you're a journalist, and your next big story is on the 'empathic love' cult, led by none other than colby brock. this cult is not known well, but you are getting a first hand look at them and what they do. and quickly, colby takes a liking to you. || fem!reader x AU!cult leader!colby brock

trigger warning: SMUT, no actual sex but you do get mentally fucked (it will make sense in the story), cult vibes all around, love bombing, cursing, supernatural powers, colby is very intense and kinda scary but also still his charming self, slight dubcon similar in vain to sam's story - you never say no outright, but you do have general feelings of 'wtf is this, idk if i like' so if that's too much for you, feel free to read something else :), colby's aura is crazy good at giving you visions, strangers-to-soulmates?? don't know if that's a tag lol, also…. colby's technically bisexual in this????? but like barely

word count: 8610

I've been a reporter for only five years, and this story.... it could make or break my career. Cults aren't as prevalent as they once were way back when. They still exist, just in the shadows. A lot quieter on most fronts. Usually disguised as a business or religion, for tax reasons of course. But this cult, Empathic Love, is unlike any cult I've heard of.

Of course, they don't call themselves a cult, but that's what they are. How else would you describe a bunch of randos following one man around wherever he goes?

They only started so many years ago, right before I graduated university. The main founder, Colby Brock, is a pragmatic individual, according to his followers. The cult began blowing up in my town a little over two years ago, and now people flock from all over the world to visit the Love Compound. You would think it's Disney World the way people grow excited about it.

But I am here to get to the truth of this cult. What is their motive? What are they planning to do? Will this be another Waco or Heaven's Gate? What sinister beliefs hide underneath the modern-day hippie aesthetic they show?

These notes will document everything I experience for the next couple of days. And in case I go missing, these are my proof of who's to blame.

I don't think it will go that far, but you can never be too sure.

~~~~

Day 1 - Investigation

I'm still incredibly surprised I was allowed to come onto the Love Compound. The leader himself apparently reached out to my boss and told them that they wanted someone to come down and interview the group. They allow visitors from time to time, "new recruits" as some of the townspeople call them, but reporters have never been allowed in. Not once. Until me.

Driving up to the compound was nerve-wracking. I never imagined I would be nervous; I've interviewed plenty of criminals in my years, have done full blown investigations into scary, horrifying crimes. But something about this place freaked me out. Partially because I didn't know what I was getting into. But another part of me, and I will never admit this out loud, felt... at home.

The only promise I made to myself was I wouldn’t drink any kool-aid while there. So, I plan to stick to that. Pretend my previous statement never existed.

I was greeted by a beautiful woman when I got there: Avery. No one went by last names. And some apparently changed their names altogether, which was not surprising. My guess is there were most likely criminals hanging out amongst the group. But I had no proof of that, just a hunch. It easily could be a safe haven for those wanting to escape whatever life they had before.

The compound was three Victorian style mansions connected to each other and had a decent size farm attached - about 222 acres. Avery told me about all of the vegetables and chickens they farmed. Everything was organic and used up as often as possible. Anything that couldn't be eaten or produced too much for the only 100ish people in the compound, was sold at the farmer's market or given away to the local food bank. Avery explained to me very clearly that everyone in the compound chipped in one way or another. Some still worked normal jobs, but just lived here with everyone. But she noted that Colby hoped in the near future no one would have to work at all and they would be self-sufficient in a couple years.

A cult with future plans? Almost unheard of.

I told Avery that I was given an all-access pass to ask anything I wanted to, and nothing I asked could be ignored or deflected. She agreed to an interview. I recorded all of it, but here are the highlights of what I gathered.

I asked her why Colby was such a secretive man. There were very few photos of him that did exist out there, but all that was rumored about him was his alluring eyes and generally attractive presence. She agreed that he was handsome, describing his as having "ocean blue eyes" and his voice was to die for. "Deep and arousing", as she explained.

I noted that she seemed almost lost in thought at the idea of him, like she was envisioning him directly in front of her. Strange behavior; but not for a cult follower. Many end up falling in love with their leader, believing they have a genuine relationship with said person.

I bought up the name of the group, Empathic Love, and said it felt a little too inviting. She laughed and told me that it was right on the money - the best way to describe why everyone was there. She expressed to me that so many of Colby's followers wanted peace and love and light, and that being in this group felt like that. It was rewarding to be surrounded by those that cared and wanted to see each other succeed. Life outside the walls of the compound was rough, scary, draining; but inside, it was all love.

Call me cynical, but I don't believe that for a second. It took all the strength I had to keep from rolling my eyes at her. But I could tell from her voice, her motions... she was telling the truth. Well, her truth.

I wanted to know what brought her here, so she spoke of her previous life. She was abused growing up, moved around a lot in foster care. She was almost homeless, and then one day she ran into Colby. He had just begun the Empathic Love group, and she just knew she had to stick with him. Her life immediately turned around the moment he was in her life. The adoration in her eyes told me a different story, so I pressed her - "are you and Colby... together?" She smiled and said no, but she knew that they were life partners before, just not currently.

Oh... so it's one of those types of cults.

She said that Colby doesn't have a second in command, wife, girlfriend, whatever. Everyone is equal and heard. He's just the face of the group, which is a bit ironic given even I have no clue what he looks like. I knew he was young, in his mid-20s. But other than that, no idea.

I needed to know, why stay? What keeps you here? A dreamy look came over her, like she had said this a million times before: "Colby. He is love, and that's all anyone could ask for."

Chills ran up my spine at the tone of her voice. It was dull, and her words sounded like a mantra, the way she said them so easily.

I wrapped up my interview with her, quiring if I was allowed to interview others. She said yes and began sending over random people one-by-one to me.

If I hadn't gotten chills from her first, I would have from everyone else. Something about seeing everyone saying similar things, smiling happily, like the ship isn't sinking around them was eerie. It made my stomach churn when I would ask questions I already asked Avery, and get almost the same speech back.

I interviewed about 15 people. All variety of ages and genders. I suddenly realized that there were no children around, and everyone was over the age of 21.

Consenting adults… minus the supposed brainwashing.

A couple of the interviewees stuck out to me:

Penelope, 25. Her upbringing was similar to Avery's, but she still kept in contact with her family. Apparently, she wasn't the only one like that either. Many still kept in touch and even visited their loved ones. I asked her to describe Colby, tell me anything about him. She giggled, almost like a schoolgirl, and began to weave such a story about him. He was kind and caring. His smile was contagious, just like his laugh. And his singing voice was fantastic. She talked about him like he was a boy band member, and she was his biggest fan. I asked her to give one word to describe him, and she said "Love. He is love, and that's all anyone could ask for."

Greg, 36. He had fallen into rough times, and desired a fresh start. He had heard about this group online, and figured checking them out while he was in town wouldn't hurt. And that was a couple years ago. I wondered why he didn't feel weird listening to someone that was younger than him, and he shrugged. It was nice not having eyes on him. He loved being in a wallflower, and he believed that Colby deserved all the love he got from everyone in the group. Every ounce he got was ten-folded back into the group. Greg had never felt so connected to a group of people and he knew it was all thanks to Colby. "He brought love into my life like I never have had it before. Because that's who he is: love."

Heather, 29. She mentioned how for most of her life she felt like shit. Her confidence was at an all-time low when she met Colby. He encouraged her to keep at it, to love herself and find happiness everywhere. And by spending more and more time with him, she did. She has never felt more confident about herself, her life, her direction, and Colby is the reason for that. The tone that took over her voice when she bought him up was odd. It was very similar to a partner describing the love of their life, almost like wedding vows. I asked her haphazardly about her love life, how that was going for her. And she told me she had been on many dates - something she never used to do back when she was younger or before Colby. But she did note that regardless of who she ends up with, she knows that a part of her heart will always belong to Colby. They were connected, forever. "Love and light and happiness is what I desired, and I got it - all because Colby exists in my life now."

It felt like I was getting nowhere with some of these interviews. Many said the same thing, Colby being love and light and blah blah blah. I wanted someone that wasn't gonna just quote to me whatever mantra he made them learn. And luck was on my side, because I was able to interview their newest member, Ash. They were 23, and very beautiful. There was an almost smugness about them, like they knew they were the shiny new toy on the block. The confidence only a young 20-something year old could have.

I asked them, point blank, about Colby. Be brutally honest. They told me he was hot, and that's what drew them to him. They liked the idea of living in a group setting, especially since they grew up with many brothers and sisters. They liked helping out, and they liked knowing that Colby was keeping an eye on them the most recently. I then followed up with how long it took for them to join the group. "Three days. That's how long it takes for everyone."

I questioned them about the "Colby is love" thing, and they agreed it was a bit strange, but they couldn't help but feel the same way as everyone else. They were like a moth to a flame when it came to him. Everything about him was hypnotizing, entrancing. It was like staring at the sun; even though you knew to look away, you just couldn't help it.

Then I had to know: were they sleeping with him? Most of these cults feed off of the leader fucking every person they wanted to and leaving other members high and dry. But for some reason, it felt as if Colby was sleeping with everyone with the way they all talked about him. Ash dissented, saying no one was sleeping with him. He didn't sleep with any of his followers. But they all shared a deep, sensual mental connection with him. They felt like, sometimes, he was in their soul. And that sensation alone was euphoric, bordering on orgasmic. They also knew that in another life, they would have been together, similar to what Avery said.

It was then I knew that this group was clinically insane, or just really infatuated by what Colby was selling. It had to have been some crazy brainwashing. But it was odd; people were allowed to leave, to see loved ones, to have lives outside of the compound walls. Hell, some had dating lives that included those not here! That's unheard of, and completely stupid on Colby's part if he wants to keep things going.

A cult leader that wanted to watch his world implode.... I had to meet him. I had to meet the myth that was Colby Brock. And tomorrow I get my chance to.

~~~~

Day 2 - Interview with Colby

I feel the need to explain that these are my notes, not really meant for anyone else to see. And really, the only reason anyone would be seeing this is if I disappear or got murdered.

So, I say all of that just so I know, for myself, that this is a safe space for me to express my truest emotions and thoughts after interviewing Colby.

And all I can say, honestly, is that... I get it. I understand it now.

I felt my nerves hit their break last night before going to sleep, unable to stop my mind reeling from what was to come. I ended up bringing along a bodyguard, or really a photographer. I had known Trey since I started working as a journalist, and I knew I could rely on him to get us out of the Empathic Love compound if anything went south. I wasn't sure what I was up against when I went to interview Colby, but God... I didn't think I was so underprepared.

I met him in his office, Avery walked me over to it. It was up in the attic of the third house. It overlooked the entire property with wide windows. For an attic, I expected it to feel dark and dusty, but surprisingly it was light and airy. Almost like being out in the woods and taking a deep breath.

Colby was sitting in his main office chair. He spun around to see us, a light smile on his face. I'll be honest - I was taken aback by his beauty. I understood Ash's whole spiel about him being attractive and looking at him was like looking at the sun. It was intense. He was intense. His blue eyes bore into me, almost like they could see through me. I felt chills, but they weren't of fear. It was out of... excitement, of awe.

He greeted me, giving me a warm handshake. I hate to admit that I almost blushed at the sound of him saying my name. I had to take a couple deep breaths before starting. Avery left the room, and Trey sat outside the door, in case of backup.

I recorded our interview, knowing that I couldn't keep track of everything he said. But listening back to it now, his voice.... it's like a song. A beautiful, spellbinding song. I could almost fall asleep to it....

I asked him about his life, and how he came to be a leader for a group like Empathic Love. He spoke of his upbringing lightly, barely scraping the surface. He talked about growing up pretty normally, having a loving family, a great friend group, and then one day realizing that he could make a change in the world. That many people loved him and loved being around him. And that's when he knew that if he could make their lives better, he would. So, he started Empathic Love. Originally, it was just gonna be a safehouse for those that needed it. But then more and more people joined and suddenly, it grew into what it was today.

I asked where his family was now. "In Kansas," he told me. He said nothing further than that.

He humbly spoke of all the love he received from his followers, or his "friends" as he put it. They all cared about him in a way that he only wished he could return tenfold. I questioned him about the whole "Colby is love" thing. "How come everyone says almost the exact same thing, like they've been brainwashed into saying it?" He didn't even trip over his words as he spoke matter-of-factly to me. "I didn't come up with that phrase, they did. You would have to ask them. I take it as the highest form of a compliment, truly. I'll be honest, it's a bit embarrassing at times when they call me that, but I can't help what they do. I appreciate their love, nonetheless."

I continued asking him about different topics, until finally reaching the one I was most intrigued about. "How many of your followers - excuse me - friends, have you slept with?" He smirked, smirked, at me and said "None. Did any of them tell you that we slept together?"

"No, but the way they talk about you like the sun shines out of your ass does seem a bit odd, don't you think?"

He looked unphased. God, he had an answer for everything. "I'll be honest with you, some of my friends might be in love with me. But I make it abundantly clear that while I love them, and love their love, I don't have feelings for them. I'm still looking for the one."

I remember holding back a glare, "So, you're celibate?"

"Now, I never said that." He let out a chuckle, then his eyes darkened. "Why do you care so much about my sex life? Unless of course, you want to join it."

I tried ignoring his gaze and his words but stuttered through my next question. “Then who exactly is the right one for you, if it's not one of your followers or friends?”

It took him a while to answer, he even closed his eyes for a bit. He sat up once he knew, sauntering over to his window that overlooked it all. "I imagine the one for me is someone that will bring peace to me and my life. Someone that for all my faults, can see who I am truly deep down. She will love me, and I will worship her. I will show her what true love feels like. Our souls will be one, because they always have been."

Something strange came over me. I don't know why I said it, but I uttered, "What about looks?"

Who cares about looks! Why did I ask about looks? I was a serious journalist, not a reporter for Star Magazine!

He looked over his shoulder at me, "Looks aren't that important to me. What matters is mind and soul. Who you are deep down. But if I had to pick… someone like you. I feel someone like you would be a perfect fit around here."

I wanted to give him the sassiest voice and rebuttal I could muster, but deep down I was shaking. Energy raced through my body, like I had been electrified.

He kept his back to me, staring out the window. “I'm not trying to be overly complimentary. I'm just being honest. But I can tell that you would do so well to have us around. To have... me, in your life. I bring a lot of love to people's lives, that's for sure. But I also bring a lot of drive, and passion, and intimacy.”

Intimacy?

“People open up when I'm around. They tell me everything, even things they never dreamt of telling another person. And I allow it, because clearly, they needed to express it. And once they do, it's like the floodgates open. Love and light just start pouring into them, into their life, and it's overwhelming - but so worth it. Doesn't that sound nice?”

I guess so...

“I bring happiness to so many. My friends have told me that they get jittery around me, I'm like a shot of adrenaline. And that energy, that power, courses through them. And when it gets expressed, it comes out in…” He took a long pause, turning back to me. The look in his eyes… I can remember it as if he was still in front of me. “Pleasurable ways.”

I hate admitting this, and it's embarrassing to say it even now, but I felt a jolt of... something, run through me. I won't even say what it was out loud, in fear of never being taken seriously again. But what happened after that, I don't know if words can even express it well.

Colby continued talking, but I couldn't pick up on any of it. He was talking up a storm, but I couldn't help the sensations I was feeling. Even in my wildest of fantasies, I've never felt anything in reality. It was all in my mind. But in that very moment, it felt like it was happening to me.

I felt lips tread up my neck, stopping just below my ear. A hot, low moan breathed into my ear. My spine tingled at the sound, my hands gripping the armrests of the chair. If I didn't know any better, I would think Colby was behind me, making those noises. My hands suddenly felt hands on top of them. My eyes widened, looking down, but nothing was there. I couldn't really move my arms once the invisible hands were there. My whole body felt numb and heavy, relaxed. My mind was the one on edge, worried as to why I was feeling all of this.

I hadn't eaten or drank anything at the compound. Maybe it was being poured into the room by the vents? I don't know, but something was making me feel this way.

The invisible hands drifted up my arms, massaging my shoulders for a moment. My head lulled back, almost hitting the back of the chair. My mind was on high alert, but my body was about ready to fall asleep. The hands relaxed me so much that my eyes began to flutter.

But then... they drifted down my torso. They traced along my neck gently, drawing small, insignificant patterns. The hands grew lower and lower until they finally were on my chest. I felt the hands cup my breasts softly, my breath hitching in my throat. They kneaded my tits gingerly, my nipples hardening in my bra. I bit my lip, praying that I wouldn't make a sound. It was hard not to, especially when the delicate fingers of these invisible hands found my nipples, gently pinching them.

I remember closing my eyes tight. Trying to clear my mind. This wasn't actually happening to me. There was no way. This was a psychosis or a drug hallucination that was happening to me and Colby was doing nothing about it.

One hand drifted down my body, stopping right above my sex. I suddenly became very aware at how wet I was, my eyes widening. I felt a rush of blood flow through my cheeks. I was about to get caught. These invisible hands made me wet, and I couldn't stop them.

And the terrible thing was, I didn't want them to. I wanted them to finish the job. To get me off... in front of Colby. One hand rose back up my body, grabbing my neck and turning my face to look up at him.

A deep voice whispered harshly, "You want him, don't you?"

I didn't say anything, afraid of what would come out. But deep down, I knew.

"Say it, and it's yours. Say you want him. And he'll have you... forever."

I opened my mouth. I felt the words almost leave my lips. I stuttered out something. I closed my eyes, my body feeling high.

And then in a split second, it was all gone. The room grew quiet, and Colby cleared his throat. "Y/N, are you okay? You look flush."

I jolted out of my seat, being able to move freely again. I looked around and realized Colby was sitting once more, staring at me concerned. I finished the interview abruptly, saying I had everything I needed - even though I definitely didn't. And then he uttered words I wish I didn't hear.

"If you want, come back tomorrow. We are having a celebration here. I would love if you came by, even if for an hour."

I nodded, not even really taking in what he said, and left. Trey was confused as to why I bum-rushed out of the room, but I never told him the truth. How could I?

I knew deep down I shouldn't have said yes to go to the party. But getting that footage would be killer for my article. Interviews are great, but a party at a cult compound? That's bound to end terribly (for Colby, but great for me).

But something in me can't shake this feeling that I basically signed myself up for the end. End of what? I'm not sure. But I'll find out tomorrow.

~~~~~~

Stepping back onto the compound made my heart race. I was nervous as all hell, and just wanted this day to be over with already. Today was my last day doing this story. I was counting the minutes to when I could go back to my office and write about how this place was insane, or whatever narrative I planned to write.

I had enough proof that something was up here. All I needed to do was a bit more digging. And during the party is when I planned to do it.

Avery walked up to me, smiling brightly. "Hey, Y/N! How are you doing today?"

"I'm okay. I know it's a bit early, but Colby never specified when the party was going to take place." I replied.

"No, you're totally fine. The party is gonna happen later. Right now, though, we have something going on that you'll definitely want to see." She clapped excitedly.

"Oh? And what is that?" I questioned.

"We are inducting a new member!" she exclaimed giddily. "There's a whole process that we do, and everyone is involved. I imagine that will bode well for your article if you see it firsthand. It's all taking place in that tent."

I stared over at the huge tent, its plastic cover doors strangely inviting.

I hummed, "Sure, I'll be there in a moment."

Avery nodded, turning on her heels and prancing over to the tent, following in other members.

"What's happening in there?" Trey asked.

"Apparently they are inducting someone new into their cult." I informed him.

He blinked. "Group, you mean."

I rolled my eyes, "Yeah, whatever. Make sure to capture as much as you can."

He shook his camera, giving me a wink, "On it."

We both walked in, many members still up and around, giving everyone hugs and chatting. Avery waved me down, patting the seat next to her. I walked over and sat. My body tingled in anticipation. I wasn't sure what was going to happen. My breathing picked up as everyone grew silent, the doors opening. Colby walked in, and people rushed to their seats.

Colby called out, "Hello everyone, good morning."

"Good morning, Colby." Everyone said in unison.

Jesus, that was creepy.

"A lot of things are going to be different today. First, we have guests watching our festivities. Y/N and Trey. Everyone, give them a hand." He gestured to the two of us.

The tent exploded in applause, Avery evening rubbing my back sweetly. It felt like I was being congratulated on something I didn't achieve, my cheeks flushing at the acknowledgement.

"And secondly, sadly, the new member we were going to have decided not to stay." He frowned, his face dropping.

Members gasped, some audible "oh no" echoed around the tent. Colby nodded his head sympathetically. “I know, but fret not. I think this will be a learning experiment for our new guests. We can still do our traditional motions of having someone join us. But, imagine it as if it's a mock ceremony instead. Ms. Y/N, would you please step up here?”

My heart stopped when he looked into my eyes, the first time since yesterday. I glanced at Avery, who grinned enthusiastically. She pushed me out of my seat, my body following her lead. I gazed around, finding Trey, who pulled away from his camera with a concerned look. I stumbled up the walkway, stepping on stage with Colby.

Colby lowered his voice so I could only hear him, moving away from the microphone. "I know you wanted to know about how we induct someone into our little home, so I figured why not use you as an example? We aren't actually inducting you, in case you’re worried. This is just what would happen if you were joining. Are you okay with that?"

I gazed around the huge, white tent, making eye contact with many people in the audience. They all looked so eager, waiting to hear my response. Some were even shaking with excitement.

I stuttered, feeling Colby squeeze my hands to bring my attention back to him, "I-I guess so."

"Fantastic." He turned, still holding one of my hands, "Alright everyone, you know the drill."

The crowd cheered, suddenly many lining up to a microphone at the side of the stage. Colby lightly pulled me to a cushioned throne, sitting me down. "So here's what's going to happen. People are going to come up to that microphone, and they are going to give you plenty of love. Genuine love. And then the next person will go, and so on until everyone has spoken."

"Everyone here? Like, all hundred plus of you?" I whispered.

"Yes. It's gonna be a while, so get cozy." He laughed, rubbing my shoulders.

Time felt frozen as slowly everyone came up and said something nice about me. Some were quick, mostly just commenting on how nicely I dressed or how the stories I had covered in the past were interesting and thoughtful. But others, it's like they could see into my soul and point out the exact thing I was insecure about. Everyone was complimentary and it was nice, but exhausting.

The line had dwindled down, and the next person to speak was Avery.

She stepped up the microphone, giving me a huge smile. "Hi, Y/N. I know we don't know each other that well, but I feel like I've known you my whole life. These couple days of getting to know you, being interviewed by you, have just been the highlight of my life. You are such a lovely presence to be around, and you deserve all the success you've gotten these last couple years."

Lots of people in the crowd nodded, agreeing with Avery. She continued, taking a deep breath, "I wanted to add - you are so deserving of love. You are easy to love too, and I hope that you are surrounded by people that make you feel that way. I know that this is just a mock ceremony, but I truly believe you would be such a great addition to us. I know you don't trust us, but I hope that soon you will find that you have a safe place here. Even if you never come back here again. This is your home now, and forever will be."

My chest heaved suddenly, tears welling up in my eyes. What the fuck is happening right now? Why was I crying at what she said? Sure, it was sweet and kind, but... how did she know I needed to hear that?

I turned my head, wiping the tears before anyone could see them fall. The crowd clapped as Avery left, going back to her seat.

The last couple people were a blur, my mind still hanging onto Avery's words. Suddenly, a hand was placed on my shoulder, jolting me out of my thoughts. I gazed up, seeing Colby's beautiful face staring down at me.

"The ceremony is done. Now, time to party."

~~~~~~

It had been a couple hours since the ceremony, my body feeling almost numb but jittery all at the same time. It was hard to shake all the love and words that were thrown my way today. Sure, some were probably just lying and saying random things because they had to, because they were conditioned to. But it freaked me out how some just... hit the right spots, knew my insecurities.

The party itself was fine. Two of the houses had parties happening in them, and since all three houses were connected, you could leave one and walk into another. There was a dancefloor full of people, and multiple fully stocked bars. Tons of food was at each table. It honestly looked like an adult prom. But I wasn't in a partying mood. Trey, on the other hand, was enjoying himself immensely. Girls and guys surrounded him, laughing at his jokes and bringing him plates of food and wine. One girl kept rubbing his thigh, staring at him longingly.

I wanted to leave. I had had enough of today, and I just wanted to be as far away from Empathic Love as I could be. I decided fresh air was what I needed, so I got up and slid out the back door of one of the houses, taking a deep breath. There were still too many people around, but I noticed the last house, the one with Colby's office in it, had no lights on and no one around it. I walked through the yards, stopping once I was by the back porch of the third house.

I sighed, leaning back against a railing. I could still hear the party going on, almost getting louder now that I wasn't there. I shook my head, feeling overwhelmed.

“Hey, Y/N. Fancy seeing you here." Colby's voice broke through my thoughts.

I exhaled. “Hi, Colby.”

He cocked his head, “Are you doing okay? You seem... upset.”

I felt this sudden rush of anger, knowing in reality he was to blame for all of this. “No, I'm not doing alright. I want to go home, I'm extremely overwhelmed by this party and all the people around here. That ceremony was too much for me to deal with, and the only way for me to get out of here is Trey and he's getting rubbed down by your followers!”

He took a step back, putting his hands up defensively. “Woah, that was a lot. You must have needed that release.”

I glared, “You think?”

“Look, I get it. It's a lot to take in. I myself don't love going to all these parties. It can be really overwhelming and if I'm honest, it gives me a lot of anxiety,” he admitted casually.

“You get anxiety?” I scoffed, “How? Everyone here loves you.”

“I know. That's the stressful part!” He sat on the railing, turning to me. “I'm the leader of this family. I have to make all the right decisions, and sometimes that means upsetting some of the people closest to me. Not to mention, so many eyes are on me, and it's just all too much sometimes. Even if you think this group is a cult, I still care for everyone here. I make sure they are fed, have a job, and have a life outside of here. And that's a lot to take on.”

“How do you deal with all of it, then?” I questioned.

“Patience. And a lot of alone time when I can get it - through meditation, specifically,” he laughed. “I was actually going to go meditate before I found you. Would you like to join me?”

I shook my head. “No, I'm good.”

“Are you sure? Look, at the very least, it will get you away from the party and all the noise. You don't even have to join me, you can just... sit in the room with me while I do it.” He argued, shrugging his shoulders.

I gazed at the party, everyone had grew rowdier while we were talking, and I didn't even notice. But my head felt like it was spinning from the noise alone. I sighed, nodding my head. Colby smiled, opening the door to the house, and I walked in first. I followed him up to his office, sitting down on his couch as he sat in the center of the room on the floor.

I raised an eyebrow. “That's where you meditate?”

“Yeah, I know it's a bit silly. But I feel so much more grounded... on the ground.” He replied cheekily.

I snickered, sitting back and watching him. He crossed his legs, resting his palms on his knees. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He took multiple breaths until they were low and shallow. I furrowed my brow, my eyes never leaving his form.

It almost seemed like he was asleep, or in a hypnosis of some sort. He was completely still and silent. A dull glow appeared at the top of his head, growing brighter and larger. I leaned away from him, my eyes widening at the sight. What the fuck is that...?

An aura grew around him, surrounding him completely. He didn't move, unfazed by it. His eyes remained closed, and with each breath it grew.

"How... are you doing that?" I uttered, my mouth a gape.

"Doing what?" He spoke in a monotone voice.

"That... aura. How are you doing that?" I pressed.

“I've always been able to do it since I was young. You can get closer if you want to.” He suggested.

How did he know I was still far away?

I stepped off the couch, moving closer to him. I kept my distance, but the aura was almost pulling me in. It was beautiful, the light reflecting and growing bigger. I was almost engulfed by it, but it stopped right before getting to me. I could feel its warmth, its energy. It was calling to me, beckoning me to step towards it.

The aura wrapped around me, filling me with light and love. Or at least that's what it felt like. I gasped at the sensation, my legs shaking underneath me. I breathed in deeply, my lungs filling up with fresh air. I didn't feel like I was in the room anymore. I felt like I was flying, the world almost zooming around me.

“Let your body relax, Y/N. I know it's so much to take in.” Colby’s calming voice spoke.

I felt my body give out on me, falling onto the soft rug. I laid down on my back, staring up at the ceiling. Visions began to swirl in my mind and around me.

How is any of this happening?

He answered, reading my mind. “Because of me. Because of us. Because of the connection you and I share.”

My body felt very heavy, unable to move even if I wanted to. I could move my eyes, and out of the corner of them, I saw Colby stand up. The aura remained around us, almost engulfing the entire room.

“You know, I knew the moment you stepped foot on to the compound's grounds, you were going to like it here. You were going to stay.” He smiled sincerely, gazing down at my body.

I blinked, confused. “What? I-I don't plan to-“

He cut me off, “This is the final step, Y/N. Everyone gave you love, people celebrated you, and now... I'm allowing you in.”

I wanted to shake my head, but couldn’t. “But I don't want to join.”

He chuckled, “Yes you do. If you didn't want it, none of this would have worked on you. You wouldn't be seeing what is directly in front of your eyes.”

The visions morphed around me, suddenly showing Colby and I. But we weren't us, we were different people, at a different point in time. But I could feel it was us. We were in love, growing a family together. Our lives were beautiful.

What the fuck is this?

“That is our past, or present, or future,” he winked. “The thing is, Y/N, I never seek out anyone. They all seem to find me.”

“That's not true, you emailed my boss about being interviewed.” I remarked.

"Oh, you are so forgetful, Y/N. You emailed us, begging to interview me and anyone else that said yes. I only agreed because I knew you wanted to meet with me. You sounded very eager to join in your email." Colby pulled out a piece of paper, reading from it happily, "Dear whoever reads this, I'm hoping to score an interview with your group, Empathic Love, for an article I am writing. I would love to meet Colby, and really pick apart his brain on why he created said group. Maybe I could even join if you guys win me over. Please let me know if any of this sounds of interest to you. Sincerely, Y/N of Global Gazette."

He leaned down, staring into my eyes mischievously, "Now does that sound like someone that didn't want to be here?"

My heart raced, suddenly scared. “Why don't I remember writing that?”

“I couldn't tell you. All I know is you wanted to be here. And there's a reason for it.” He sat down on the ground next to me. I wanted to get up and run, but my body stayed still, heavy. “Growing up, I realized very early on that certain people just... gravitated to me. A lot of women, yes. But really it was anyone. And not only did they gravitate towards me, they became obsessed with me. At first, I was confused, uninterested in ever going through that. Who wants someone obsessed with them? But then I realized how much good I could do with so many people rallying behind me.”

He continued, “As I got older, my ability, or power, or whatever it is - grew twice as strong. Suddenly, all the people around me followed me, did anything and everything I could ask for. Then, I began getting visions, and I understood why this was the case. Everyone here: we had a past life together. Their souls and mine have always been connected. They find me and then continue to stay. And almost always, they fall in love with me. It's just so glorious.”

“You're insane.” I mumbled.

He hummed, “Interesting, especially since you’re seeing the same things I am.”

It was true. The whole time he spoke, I saw vision after vision of our past lives together. We were always destined to meet, destined to be with one another.

“But the thing is, I know you're different from all the rest. You and I, we are meant to be together forever. You are meant to love me forever, and I am meant to love you. That's why my abilities affect you so greatly.” Colby divulged.

“What if I say no? What if I want to leave?” I grunted, trying to shake free.

“You've had the ability to go all this time. You just don't want to. You know how much love I can give you. You know how much pleasure I can give you as well.” He bit his lip, his eyes snaking up and down my body, “You've known that since yesterday, haven't you?”

Blood rushed to my cheeks, memories of yesterday played in my head.

“And do you know what’s crazy about that? That's not even half the pleasure I can give you.” Colby kneeled next to me, a devilish smile on his lips. His hand lightly brushed my face, cupping my warm cheek sweetly.

A burst of arousal raced through me, my body spasming in ecstasy. “Oh my God!”

“I know, it's a lot to take in. But I just want to make you feel good, darling. You deserve it.” He leaned in slowly, “You are mine, after all.”

"This is what your followers meant by a deep and sensual mental connection," I groaned, feeling hands all over my body, touching me in the most lustful of ways. "You got inside their heads and mentally fucked them."

“...That's one way of wording it. But if they didn't trust me, if they didn't already want me, it wouldn't happen.” He winced playfully, “So in reality, it's your fault.”

“Fuck you.” I growled.

“But baby, that's what's happening,” Colby laughed darkly. “Those hands, those kisses and bites... that's all mine. I can tell you're losing it. You want me real bad, but you don't want to admit it. I get it, you’re overwhelmed.”

I felt like my body was getting electrocuted with pleasure. My hips grinded into the air, needing some form of relief. My nipples strained against my bra, wanting any form of touch. I closed my eyes tightly, embarrassment rolling through me as I felt my damp panties against my sex.

Fuck, he was right. I did want this, and him.

I didn't even need to say it out loud. Suddenly I felt a cock slid inside of me, too easily from how wet I had become. I ripped my eyes open, looking around. Colby was watching me from his chair, smirking.

He palmed his hardening dick through his jeans. “Imagine how much better it would be if I was actually inside of you, filling you up with every. fucking. inch.”

I thought about screaming Trey’s name. Maybe he could help me.

He grimaced, rolling his eyes. “He won’t do anything for you, sweetheart. He joined our group just a couple weeks ago. Right around the time you sent the email. So really, you have all the more reason to join us.”

“Even if I join this cult, I will never stay here. I will leave here and never come back.” I hissed.

“And that is your choice to make. But Y/N,” his gaze lowered at me, his eyes intense. “You will never be satisfied. You got barely a taste of what I can offer you, and you're gonna want it forever. Just like everyone else here.”

“You're a- fuuuuuucckk!” I moaned, the cock inside of me hitting my spot deeper. I caught my breath, glaring at him. “Y-You're a freak.”

“Says the girl almost coming to my invisible dick.” He spat, clenching his jaw.

I bit my lip, annoyed at how right he was. The hands exploring my body gripped my ass, slapping it lustfully.

“Okay, okay. I'll agree with you. I am a bit of a freak of nature. But let's not act like I'm some monster. I let people leave. But they always come back because they choose to. I can't force people that far. Pinky promise,” He stuck his pinky out, and I rolled my eyes defiantly. He huffed, “It's not like this place is Scientology, for Christ's sake. We are love. I am love.”

“You are the most tainted form of love that I've ever met.” I retorted, gripping the rug to hide my building arousal.

He deadpanned, “Ow. That hurt.”

Colby strutted over to me, laying down right beside me. The pleasure grew more intense, my hips bucking desperately. His one hand hovered over me, never touching me. It didn't matter, because having him this close felt like his whole body was on top of mine, fucking me hastily.

“If you allow yourself to enjoy this feeling, you might actually come. Because I won't force you to. I'll just keep you here, for hours, riving in pleasure until your brain melts into goo.” He smirked, “How's that sound?”

"I-I hate you." I gritted my teeth. Why did I feel like I was lying?

"No you don't. But soon you'll be able to admit the truth." He leaned his mouth in close, his voice low and sincere, "I know that this place might not be what you imagined your home to be like, but it is. You will always have a place here. You will always be loved here. And I know that's what you want deep down. To be loved unconditionally. To have every fiber of your being satisfied. And if you let me, I will do that. I will please you every night, however you want me to. But for me to do that, you have to let me in. You have to let love in."

The cock inside of me pounded faster and faster. I could barely think anymore. The only thing on my mind... was him. The lives we had together, the life we could be having. I knew I shouldn't want it, but I did. I wanted him in my life, forever. He was what was missing, and I couldn't live one more day without him.

I mewled loudly, my hips thrusting up erotically. Colby's hand cupped my face gently, turning my head to look him in the eyes.

His alluring eyes stared deep into mine, his jaw clenched. "You will always be mine. I am love, and that is all you could ask for."

"You are love, and that's all I could ask for." I repeated mindlessly, grabbing onto his arm desperately.

His face softened, “That's right baby. You're such a good girl for me. My good girl, forever. You want that, don't you?”

“Yessss, please Colby. I want to be yours forever.” I keened.

"You will be. I promise, you will always be mine." His eyes darkened, the pupils almost completely blown out. "You will never leave."

"I won't!" I trembled, my orgasm building closer and closer to the edge.

“You wanna come, Y/N? Get close for me. Don't I feel so good inside of you? You like when I do this?” Colby's hand snaked down my body, rubbing my clit sensually.

I begged wantonly, dying to come. "Pleaseeeeee! Please let me come! I need it! I need you."

"Of course you do, baby. You and I need each other. Our connection is unlike anyone else's. Tell me the truth and I'll let you come." He leaned in close, his lips brushing against my ear, "Tell me, baby. Say it..."

"I love you," I cried out, right on the edge. I direly wanted him to say it back, knowing it was already the truth.

“I love you too, baby,” he smiled sweetly, kissing my cheek. “Now, come for me.”

Hot, white pleasure shot through my body. I had the strongest orgasm of my life, my mind shattering as I rode every wave of pleasure that went through me. Colby stayed by my side, shushing me as my high lowered down more and more. He kept whispering 'I love you' repeatedly, my mind unable to hear or think anything else after a while.

I blacked out at some point but awoke when my body was lifted off the floor and placed softly into a bed. “Wha... happenin?” I slurred.

“Relax, darling. I just brought you to my bed. Well, our bed now,” he chuckled. “I want you to get your rest because tomorrow is a big day for you.”

“What's tomorrow?” I murmured.

“Your introduction to everyone as my soulmate.” Colby informed happily, tucking me in. “Everyone will be so pleased that you changed your mind about joining us.”

I nodded my head, snuggling deep into his bed. He dimmed the lights, whispering softly, "Welcome home, Y/N."

#colby brock #colby brock fanfic #colby brock fic #colby brock fanfiction #colby brock x reader #colby brock smut #colby brock one shot #colby brock oneshot #golbrocklovely's 13 nights of halloween

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ambrosialdesire · 1 year ago

Text

down boy, down

18+ DARK CONTENT BELOW, MINORS + BLANK BLOGS DNI

pairing: gorou x fem!reader word count: 6.5k warnings + tags: general yandere and obsessive themes, explicit sexual content, unhealthy relationships, kinda pwp, slight misogyny, dubcon, edging, male masturbation, heat (rut), knotting, breeding, innocent virgin (for now) & pervert gorou, mentions of panty stealing, brief sub gorou (he's just insanely horny), begging, degradation sorta, religious guilt implications, power imbalance/abuse of power, corruption (kinda, it's just yae miko is just nudging him), all characters are 18+ synopsis: generals are supposed to be the prime example of rigorous restraint and complete self-discipline, but this doggy general can't control himself when your presence is around. gorou feel like he's losing his mind with the way his thoughts only contain the need to completely breed you and it's getting worse as time goes on. a/n: yes i can write something else besides aot lolol some terms are not officially in-game (mostly the military terminologies) and some parts of the lore i sorta forgot because its been so long since i played inazuma's story. i tried as best as i could to fill in. there's not a lot of yandere gorou so i wanted to try my hand at it. this is technically my first smut fic in a while so apologies in advanced if it's bad (i'm terrible at dirty talk cause it's so awkward to write lol). in my mind, he has scars, muscles (but not super super defined ones), and is slightly taller than his in-game model. i wanted to try and write in the guy's perspective cause it may or may not be a practice for some incoming fics hehe enjoy!! note: please keep in mind of the tags above and do not proceed if triggering or uncomfortable, especially if you are a minor!! do not read my or any other writers' dark content if you are underaged. this is a fictional work and does not reflect irl morals, do not believe this is how a real romance works or functions.

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For Archons' sake, Gorou's a general.

Someone who has the respect of all that he swore to protect. He's the supposed "top-dog" soldier of Watatsumi Island. He built his reputation from the ground up, spent years upon years training himself to be the best soldier on the island. He's the number one supporter of Sangonomiya Kokomi, the Divine Priestess who entrusted him with leading her army safely through the throes of this terrible war. He's been told he was a humble leader, a man of sincere righteousness, a good person.

Internally, he knew that everyone had it all wrong about him.

They don't know that this man, this soldier, had become a disgusting degenerate of an animal.

Sick, sick thoughts filled his mind when the nights grew quiet and the bonfires outside had soon slowly burned out. The innate want — no, need — to breed, consistently grew stronger with each passing night; it was a genetic predisposition that he felt like he had been cursed with. If he thought about it for too long, he could feel himself harden and strain against the restraints of his garments. He'd get himself to the point where he'd slowly palm himself, his body growing warm and his breathing quickening, but he'd never finish. It was frustrating from the way he'd get oh so close but he just couldn't cum, no matter how much his cock was twitching or how much his tip was leaking out precum.

It was too shameful, too scandalous.

Gorou wasn't always like this. For the longest time, his urges had always been easy to control. His mind had always been focused on battle positioning plans and extreme training regimes, anything to get the upper hand against the Tenryou Commission. It was like everything in him was suddenly rewired the day you joined the ranks.

Usually it was not his place to oversee newcomers, the lower ranked captains were assigned for that position. However, Her Excellency wanted him to train this group of newbies this time around. She told him that it was the utmost emergency, resources and people were running low and she needed time to gather more support. Gorou would never refuse her request so he obeyed her command, preparing himself with speeches and strategies.

Very few people were willing to go up against the Shogunate and her powerful army; he was the one that had to inspire them and ensure that their minds were set for fighting for what was right. They had to fight, not only for the island but for the people who were currently being persecuted in the Inazuma mainland.

As he approached the training area while reading over the speech, he stopped dead in his tracks. A light scent, almost a sweet floral, lingered in the air. It was a complete contrast against the sweat and dirt so he followed after it, his eyes finally landing on you.

You were sparring with one of the other newbies, pinning him to the ground while laughing. You held your own well, the man was twice your size and there he laid in a dazed confusion. His tail fluffed up as he watched you get up and stretch, the disheveled training uniform pulling up and revealing the smooth skin of your stomach.

He felt himself swallow nervously as you noticed his presence, your body stiffening and going into the position of standing at attention. You were the only one to do so, the others scrambling to copy your actions as they finally realized he was watching them.

It was rare to see women in Watatsumi Island or in the village, much less so his age. Most of them either were dedicated shrine maidens, women who were already happily married, or the elderly taking care of their grandchildren while their parents worked outside of the island. To see you was quite a surprise, especially since the other trainees that surrounded you were all men. There was a small handful of resistance soldiers that were the opposite sex, all working alongside Her Excellency as her advisors.

Gorou had to regain his thoughts, trying to shake out your smell out of his head. He began to speak, slowly pacing back and forth as he recited the whole trainee speech in verbatim, finally turning towards them and saluting a dismissal. The crowd saluted in return, soon dispersing to carry out other assigned duties and he opened his communication box to send back a message to Kokomi when all of the sudden, he felt a tap on his shoulder.

It was the flower-smelling soldier, you. He tried not to stare at you while he was talking but your scent was so enticingly distracting, he couldn't help but take a few glances. You were even prettier up close, the particular aroma was even stronger as you stood in front of him.

"General Gorou sir." You saluted quickly, your posture unwavering. You positioned quite well for a starting soldier, color him impressed.

"At ease. Do you need anything—?" He didn't know your name yet, lightly trailing off. You seemed to catch on with his hesitancy, perking up immediately.

"L/N. Private Y/N L/N. And yes General sir, I would like to ask when will we be doing weapon and hand-to-hand combat training."

"In a few weeks. The skills that we will be teaching this week is all physical activity training. It's quite necessary. It would be pretty embarrassing running down the battlefield and falling just because your body can't hold up the armor." He heard you snort, your hands going over your mouth almost immediately. His face grew warm as he stared at you with wide eyes, your gaze casting itself to the ground.

"Sorry General sir, I couldn't help but laugh."

Gorou's tail started wagging, his hand immediately catching it before it could move any noticeably faster. With his other hand, he placed it on your shoulder and smiled.

"Please, you can just call me Gorou. I'm not fond of formalities when we aren't on the field." Your eyes lit up once more, that was the funny thing about newbies. They always look up to the more skilled seniors, especially if they were a high rank like him.

"Yes sir- Gorou." You corrected yourself quickly, causing him to chuckle. The two of you began to discuss, mostly small talk to fill up the time. It was supposed to be a professional conversation but the more he spoke with you, the more personal he wanted to be. The two of you were soon interrupted however, you were needed by one of the captains. He quickly dismissed you, not wanting for you to get any bad first impressions from his colleagues. He didn't realize that his tail had drooped down low when you disappeared from view, the fur flattened down completely.

As the weeks went by, you proved to be a diligent and hardworking soldier, carrying out tasks with no complaints. During his observations, you rarely had any struggle keeping up with the men, not that it mattered in the first place. You were more nimble than most during close combat and you did better with a polearm than a bow or sword. During those weeks of training, he was only observing you. He swore it wasn't stalking, God forbid.

It was innocent at first, what he thought about you. He liked you, he usually liked all of his subordinates but something felt different about you. Was it because you were the only woman in the ranks at the moment? He wasn't like this around Her Excellency nor her advisors, but that was completely out of respect. Didn't he respect you?

The realization hit him when he saw your hair down one night while making his rounds around the camp. You were returning from the bathhouse, most likely bathing after all the men so you could have the well-needed privacy.

You spotted him first, waving a hand from afar. He only noticed when the floral scent hit him, barely smelling the hint of soap along with it. He finally became aware of the fact that your hair was still damp, pooling down over your shoulders. The moonlight bore down on you, giving you a glow that was absolutely breathtaking and then you smiled.

You smiled and everything suddenly felt tight in his body, as if he was being restrained by his own skin.

Gorou was lucky that it was nighttime and he was a distance away. Any closer and you would have been able to see how red his face had gotten. He'd only seen your hair up, a military standard that must be followed for all who had a hair length that went past their shoulders, so to see you like this left him dumbfounded. He quickly waved back and jogged off to his housing early, feeling his heart beat hard in his chest as he shut the door harder than it needed to.

He went over to sit on his bed, doubling over as he clutched a fist over his chest. His body was warming up and it felt like he couldn't breathe, only able to take in quick, sharp inhales. His mind felt like it was all over the place but still was able to only focus on one thing: you.

It was unethical with what he was feeling. He could only remind himself that he is a general — a rank higher than most — and here he was, thinking about a private. You looked up to him, you were supposed to because he was your leader, your guidance in this kind of world. Yet the way you gazed at him with complete adoration and fascination, the way you cheered praises at him when he showed off during sparring, it was getting to him when it shouldn't. Others had done the same but when it came to you, he just couldn't have enough.

Gorou's body felt like it was on fire and he moved to lay down, wincing when he finally noticed that he was hard. This never happened, this never happens. Maybe he could just sleep it off. In the morning, all of this would be gone. These... feelings.

He couldn't relieve himself. If he touched himself and came, it would be considered a sin. He had no room in his plans to visit the shrine maidens and confess something so innocuous. What would he even say? Forgive me, for I have thought and climaxed to one of my lower subordinates inappropriately. He'd prefer getting incapacitated by General Kujou Sara than say anything relating or similar to that.

He sat up and carefully removed his clothes, shuddering as the chilled air touched his bare skin. The bandages that he wore in his lower half were still intact but there was a definite outline of where his stiffened cock was being restrained. Fuck.

Gorou hesitantly went to trace his fingers along the outline, barely putting any pressure against it before he sharply inhaled, looking over and seeing that he reached the tip. It felt good, the wrappings were thinner than he originally thought. Shame soon shadowed over him, his hand retracting to his side and clenching the once-neatly made sheets. He shouldn't be doing this at all. Not when the origin of this came from a subordinate, a subordinate he shouldn't be thinking of in the first place.

He laid back down and shut his eyes tight, ignoring the panging throbs that were tempted to be relieved. He wouldn't let this issue bother him, so long as he can endure it. If he started something he would regret, then may the fallen god Orobaxi strike him down mercilessly.

Days turned into weeks and then into months. No matter how much he slept it off, tossing and turning restlessly in his bed, he was never able to get you out of his mind. He tried to avoid you as well, attempting to limit the interactions to important business only but it seemed that luck had never been on his side to begin with.

It was you who was always initiating, asking if your form is right as you held up the polearm in a perfect defensive stance, making him come to you and press his body against yours to fix your positioning. It was you who was always questioning whether or not a planned attack was coming soon, eyes lighting up as he mentioned a hint of any sort of battle. It was always you. Even when he was trying to map out positions on where a possible vantage point could be in his housing, he'd hear you approach the door and question him about what was arranged for tomorrow.

Some days, he wouldn't let you in. Gorou would tell you that he's busy at the moment and like a good little soldier, you obeyed his request and began to speak behind the barrier. What you didn't know was that his hand was pressing against his bulge as you spoke, biting his lip as he tried to keep himself quiet. His high morals always bit at him, making it so he could never bring himself to finish, a painful shame bleeding into the depths of his soul.

Whenever he heard your voice, it was like something was injected into his veins every single time you spoke to him. Your smell was even worse for him, his tail curling whenever you passed by him. And those eyes, God those eyes. Staring at him like he was the light of your life, turning into little half moons whenever you smiled at him. Everything about you ignited something truly terrible within him and he was addicted, the feverish heat never truly going away as you finally left his doorstep.

Her Excellency was worried about his change of state, telling him that he can take a break if he needed one. She noticed the sweat pool and drip down his flushed out and dazed face, even when the weather was fair and he barely moved an inch besides the occasional shuffle of his legs and tail. He couldn't, he wouldn't, not when the war was still going on. What would she think if he confessed to her about what he was doing to the thought of one of her soldiers?

You were a compelling distraction. A small bump in the road, a large sinkhole that he was struggling to get out of, slipping in deeper with every miserable attempt. The constant arousal and burning heat had diverted his busy mentality, only focusing on how his cock was aching and stirring for any sort of release. It was to the point where he started missing out on his other job, papers and requests piling up on his desk until his incompetence began to not go unnoticed.

‘•.¸♡ ♡¸.•’'•.¸♡ ♡¸.•’'•.¸♡ ♡¸.•’

"My, my, my. I haven't smelled this kind of scent in years, no wonder my best writer has been slacking in his duties." A disappointed but amused tut had Gorou's tail bristling from the sound of a familiar voice, ears flicking and head turning towards the now-opened door. A decorative fan hid her face but he knew all too well who it was based on the red-colored shrine maiden outfit and the long muted pink hair.

"Lady Guuji! You're not supposed to be here on enemy lines." He got up from his desk and quickly closed the door behind her, nails digging into the wood as a pang of warmth ran through his body. Miko closed her fan and walked over to his desk, pushing and prodding papers around with it as she slightly clicked of her tongue. Shit, has he really been that distracted?

"Oh Gorou, as far as I know, the Grand Narukami Shrine sides with no one in this war. I just wanted to see why the aspiring Ms. Hina hasn't been sending over her column responses like usual, you know she's usually so punctual with her postings! But now, I can see — no — smell why." She sniffed the air once more, his cheeks growing redder by the second.

"It reeks of your rutting stench in here, would you be so kind and open up a window for me?"

He obeyed and barely cracked two of his windows open, his tail still puffed up with anxiety as she sighed with displeasure. "You can't just wait this out you silly little pup, you need a release in order for it to go away."

"Re... release?"

Miko blinked once then once more. As if she finally came to a realization, a smug smile grew, her purple eyes glowing with amusement. "Don't tell me this is your first rut, dear Gorou?"

Rut. He heard of it before, the desire to breed whoever his body had chosen as his sworn mate. His father had mentioned it long ago when he was a young teenager but he originally thought that he was excluded from the effects. Why did you have to pop up now, out of all times?

"I'm surprised that you haven't jumped on your beloved leader when it started, I must applaud you for the amount of self-control you have in yourself." Clapping her hands in false praise, he was tempted to snap back at his other boss for assuming that he would ever treat Her Excellency that way when a knock filled the room. Her attention was now at the front door, one of her ears twitching with interest.

"Afternoon Gorou! I have something I want to tell you, may I come in?" He wanted to tear his ears right out of his head, the same uncomfortable warmth bleeding through his skin like an infection. He could already feel the starting familiar stir within the confines of his bandages. He felt like screaming or crying, maybe even both.

Out of all times?! Miko made her way towards the door before he could realize it and nearly opened it, cracks of the outside sunlight peering through. His body collided with the heavy wooden door without him realizing how speedily he reached it, a startled and surprised cry coming out of the other side as he slammed it back shut. Fuck, you sounded so cute.

"Gorou? Are you alright?" You asked, concern lacing within your words and he chuckled internally, already imagining your eyebrows scrunching together.

"Y-yes, I'm fine! Sorry about that, I tripped on my... m-my rut— I mean my rug— yes, my r-rug." He winced afterwards, embarrassed of his unprofessional behavior. A stifled giggle was heard behind him and a low growl came out of him in return, blue eyes narrowed as he shot a look at the pink-haired kitsune.

"Um, okay. Is it fine for me to come in then?" He could feel his hard-on throb, the lack of touch and urge to be in something warm irritating him. Yet the Guuji was still in the room, waiting for him to be finished with this conversation, as much as he still wanted to talk to you. His forehead pressed against the door, eyes closed as he tried to imagine what you looked like behind there.

"No, sorry not today. I-I'm awfully busy, paperwork's been piling up." He was met with silence and then a soft sigh, the tip of his tail twitching.

"Oh. Okay, sorry to bother you again Gorou. I..." There was a light sound of shuffling and two turns, as if you had something else to say. "I'll — um — I'll ask you another day then. Good luck."

The sounds of dirt crushing under your boots slowly began to fade away and he finally let out a relieving sigh, laughter exploding behind him and suddenly all his nerves were on high once more.

"Hah! You haven't chosen the priestess, you chose a soldier. A nice smelling one at least. Why haven't you made your move huh? I'm losing precious Mora because of your interest in her." Miko teased, the sound of her sandals clicking on the floor as she moved around in the small space.

"First of all, I would be abusing my authority. I'd just be taking advantage of her and her respect towards me, God knows if she'd report me for being an absolute disgusting pervert." His fist clenched against the door, waiting for his body to calm down before he faced the fox yokai. Every little cell was begging for him to go and chase after you, to finally, finally claim you as his. A small voice of logic had still made its presence known however, whispering the futures of every consequence that could occur if he had chosen to follow his urges.

"Play your cards right then doggy, you have all the power and control compared to her. And it seems that your patience is waning thin." She ruffled through his bed and with the tips of her fingers, she carefully fished out a small piece of cloth from behind his pillow, a deep color of scarlet burning in his cheeks as he finally turned towards her.

It was an accident, he didn't mean to grab it when he was making his normal rounds. He wasn't supposed to be near the bathhouse but his thoughts were suddenly clouded with a searing appetite, one that he was unable to resist. He didn't even realize that he had grabbed the neatly folded white panty from the bench, his conscious suddenly clearing when the tip of his cock was messily spilling pre-cum all over it when he made it to his home.

Gorou snatched it from her and shoved it into his pocket, a furious snarl suddenly slipping through his bared teeth. He himself jumped at the sheer sound of it, putting another hand over his lips as Miko stared at him in shock before laughing once more.

"This is why I hired you, you keep surprising me general." She sighed pleasantly after, pretending to wipe a tear. She was extremely humored with his heinous actions, as if she didn't care at all that what he was doing was any short of shameful. Miko made her way finally out, her hand on the knob not before looking back at her underling.

"And Gorou?" He flinched, his shoulders tensed.

"Yes?"

"My advice is get rid of your rut, no matter what it takes. You don't want to hurt that little soldier, right? So get her in your bed before your instincts do."

‘•.¸♡ ♡¸.•’'•.¸♡ ♡¸.•’'•.¸♡ ♡¸.•’

Even if Miko had told him he should, Gorou couldn't bring himself to do it.

He had merely yielded, telling Her Excellency that he hadn't been feeling well recently and she agreed to let him sort himself through his "illness". She gave him some remedies and medicines, occasionally checking in on him when she wasn't busy planning. None of her treatments were working but she never gave up. News of him succumbing to a sudden sickness had spread through the ranks but their Divine Priestess had told them not to bother him while he was recovering, which he deeply appreciated.

He had locked himself in whenever she left, placing a chair against the knob to prevent any outsiders from entering and each of the windows were nailed shut. Even if he did open a window for a needed draft, he'd still be burning awfully hot. Plus, he didn't need the others to know why he was moaning and groaning in supposed pain. It sucked, everything about this sucked. Maybe if he had just a small taste of you, everything would go back to normal.

No. From the start, nothing about you was normal to him. Every time he thought about you, the heat would get worse and his already-sore dick would swell back to life. Were you thinking about him right now? Did you miss him? Gorou wasn't the type to get envious easily, but the rise of his rut enhanced those feelings to the max. He despised the image about you moving on to other soldiers, especially the higher ups. None of them were as kind and thoughtful as he was, clawing at his pillows at the idea of your sparkly eyes looking at someone else.

He couldn't do much to keep you away from those men, all he was able to do was finish up what he was behind with for Yae Miko and rest everything away, relieving what he can without a complete release. Would the ache go away if he finally did cum? Ugh, part of him wished she had explained this thing to him more but having your boss explain the birds and the bees for their kind would be horrifyingly embarrassing.

Nighttime rolled into the camp once more, his eyes shut in frustration and his hands restlessly grabbing and pushing around his sheets. He couldn't sleep, the pangs getting worse and his brain continuously fogging. If he went on a walk to try and clear his mind, he didn't trust himself not to walk into the sleeping quarters and not take you right there. So he decided to bathe instead, running cold water until it reached the right amount.

Since he wasn't on duty at the moment, there was no hassle in removing his garments, though he did keep the bandage wrappings on since somewhat helped control his urges. He carefully unraveled the cloth, shuddering as his already hardened cock sprung out of its restraints and lightly tapped against the skin beneath his belly button. Trying to ignore it, he stepped into the tub and sighed in relief as the water chilled his overheated body.

Only a few seconds passed by and he couldn't resist not looking. Observing himself, he felt strangely foreign seeing a swollen ball near the base of his dick as he bathed in the cool water of his tub. It was just as sensitive as the rest of him, exhaling a quiet whimper as his fingers brushed against it. As if something nefarious had suddenly grabbed ahold of him, his hand slowly wrapped around the shaft above the rounded flesh and began to stroke himself, the water rippling as he shivered from the feeling.

This was the first time he ever touched himself in this manner, his head arching against the rim as he tediously ran his thumb over the reddened, leaking tip. Despite the water, he could feel the smooth glide of the slick that was continuously leaking out of him. His canines gnawing at the side of his lips, eyes focused on the languid strokes. It was almost torturously slow pace, a building pressure forming at the pit of his lower abdomen.

This was bad, very bad. He needed to stop right now before he crossed a line into sin, an inescapable downturn into hell itself. But it felt so good, so so good.

Gorou panted, his mind forming the image that you were in the bath with him, that you were the one slowly stroking him off. He could feel the heat crawl up his chest to his cheeks, seeing your hooded gaze on him. Despite your training, your hands were always so soft compared to his callused hands. Was it because of the lotion that you used after bathing? God he missed your scent, the panty that he took was already losing your smell.

He let out a low groan as he thought about your flowery aroma and without thinking, he started to mutter your name. His hips bucked against his hand, the bulbous swelling preventing him from going further down to the base. With every rough movement, the water splashed out of the tub.

He imagined you teasing him, telling him that he's going to run the tub dry if he kept on moving so much. Still pretending that you were his hand, he began to pick up his pace, your name on his lips growing louder and louder. You called him a filthy general, asking him how he could think of you in such a way for a lowly soldier, simple cannon fodder. You then asked him why he decided to steal your used panty and he only could muster up a weak apology. He begged you not to tell the others, not to tell Her Excellency that he wanted you, that he thought of you for so long that it was poisoning him and his very soul. Gorou wanted you so badly but you were unobtainable, someone he could never touch. He loves his job, he really does but he loves you even more.

You finally kissed him, the faint traces of his ghastly imagination touching his lips. His pathetic chanting ceased as a blinding white painted his vision, his face contorting and crying out in agonizing pleasure. The waves of his sudden orgasm flowed through his veins as he gripped the side of the tub. He felt the material crack under his palm, bits of it crumbling onto his fingertips. His ears flattened against the side of his head and his tail had wrapped itself tightly around his leg, his breathing uneven and slow.

Gorou finally opened his eyes, his mouth still parted open in a quiet breathless pant as he looked down into the water. A white substance flowed around him, his red face contorting to mild disgust. Short feelings of drowsiness and a small sense of relief that the pain was gone ebbed throughout his body. He unwrapped his hand from his shaft, slightly twitching from the lost feeling.

In a slow realization, he then registered that the burning simply did not die out. No, it almost felt like it had gotten worse. The warmth crawled up his stomach and flushed around his face, the once-cold water now displeasingly lukewarm. He could imagine the sinking fangs of Orobaxi pierce his soul and label him as tainted, a sinner. A small part of him felt no regret, that this is what was meant to happen but most of him — if not all — had a sinking, devastated feeling. He shouldn't have done this, especially with you in mind.

There was a small knock on the door as he got out of the tub from his second bath, almost inaudible if he hadn't had these ears of his.

Weird. No one should be up around this hour, they would most certainly get in trouble if he catches them. He huffed, rolling his eyes. Pranking the sick general, are we? Gorou quickly wrapped himself up with a towel tightly around his waist, approaching the front door with light caution.

"Hello? State your name and purpose." He called out through the closed door, ears perked and twitching around for any signs of life. Maybe it was just a passing animal.

"Gorou? It's just me, Y/N. Are you okay?" Fuck. He's so utterly fucked.

"Uh y-yeah, why wouldn't I be? You shouldn't be out of the sleeping quarters, I won't be able to save you if you get caught." He tried to be as stern as possible but the growing mass underneath his towel was starting to make it difficult to think.

You softly laughed and he could imagine you shaking your head. "Don't worry, I'm sneakier than you think. And I wanted to check on you because I heard yelling coming from your direction. I... I got worried since you're still ill."

Gorou's heart was leaping out of joy. You were thinking about him? Of course you'd worry about him, it was part of your character wasn't it? He could feel his hands grasp at the chair holding the door, almost tempted to rip it out of the way.

"I know I'm not the best at medicinal assistance like Her Excellency but I want to help you. I feel bad not being able to do much besides train without your guidance." You quietly mentioned and his mind suddenly blanked, the heat crawling up his nerves and limbs.

"I do need your help actually."

"Y-you do? Well, I'll do anything to help you get better sir."

Anything, huh?

Gorou pulled the chair away from the door and opened the door, finally seeing you. The glow of his lantern-lit room highlighted your features, admiring seeing your hair down and your sleeping attire loose on your body. He couldn't be more grateful for your naïve willingness. His little idiotic soldier.

He grabbed your shoulder and tugged you into his home, almost slamming the door shut before you could have any change of mind. Your eyes widened as you soon realized that he was fully exposed, his towel barely covering his throbbing lower half. He let you drink in the scars and the muscles he's worked hard to achieve before he finally made a move.

"Wha—" Barely a sound was able to escape you before he collided his lips against yours, bodies toppling over into the wooden ground. In the haze of his lust, he felt terrible that you may have hit your head onto the ground but your mouth was so warm and your lips were so plush that all of his empathy was washed away.

His hands grabbed at the thin pajama pants the military provided for every soldier and ripped them off of you. He made quick work at removing his towel, his heavily aroused cock springing out and brushing against your covered cunt. He could see through hooded eyes that although you were most definitely confused, your fear could barely hide the arousal pooling behind your pupils.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry." He whispered frantically against your lips as he tore off the white panties, almost salivating as he felt his tip catch onto your bare warmth. A few ruts against your pussy lips and he could already feel some slick gather against his shaft, not knowing if you were getting aroused or that was just his own pre-cum leaking down and making a complete mess.

Slowly or at least, as slowly as he thought he was going, he pushed the head inside. A long and relieved whine came out of him and your back arched, body pressing against his as you cried out from the sudden intrusion. Swiftly, his mouth enveloped yours to quiet you down. It would be a shame if any other soldiers made their way to his home, but then again, he could make them disappear without a single trace left behind. Curiosity is such a fickle thing to have as a soldier, it could end them up dead in a nameless pit or in your instance, speared by a horny general.

His head threw back as he began to thrust shallowly in quick succession, the knot preventing him from going any deeper much to his displeasure. Gorou had never felt such an indulgence in his life, he thought his little session in the tub earlier was everything but this? He could live with the sins building upon his shoulders as long as he could relish in your warmth for eternity.

Your hands gripped on the rug above you, clawing and grasping at it for dear life, moaning aloud as his cock dragged against your walls. The blouse that you were wearing was slowly loosening with every sharp movement he made against you, revealing your chest that he could never bear to look at before. He peeled back the fabric and grabbed one of your breasts, squeezing once before leaning in and sucking on the pert nipple.

His tail twitched in bold satisfaction as you started to whine out his name, begging him to go deeper.

"Yeah? You want that soldier?" His voice rumbled against your nipple, feeling you clench around his shaft as he spoke.

"Y-yes! Please, please just a little more." Obeying, he snapped his hips harder against the plushness of your thighs, the knot pushing and budging against your tight hole. You hissed at the sudden realization of the circular muscle swollen around the bottom of his shaft, but you didn't try to stop him.

Would it fit? No, it had to fit. You will fit him. His hands grabbed your hips, pulling you in until you were flushed against his waist. His mouth left your chest, moving towards muscle in between your neck and shoulder. Gorou wasn't going to leave you unmarked, the whole goddamn camp was going to know who he knocked his pups into. It would serve some good to the island, Orobaxi would be pleased to have new followers right?

"Gonna fuck — hah — gonna fuck you up, breed you full of cum. You're my mate, mine." He growled into your ear before he bit down into your flesh. At the same time, he forced his knot into you and clawed the plushness of your hips.

Your pussy stretched and gripped around the enlarged knot, trying to accommodate the sudden thickness. He could barely see your eyes rolling to the back of your head as you came, your walls spasming and milking his cock for his hot cum. Wanton moans were the only noise you were able to make as he continued to fuck deeply into you, his tongue licking at the inflicted mark.

The same pressure in his lower stomach that he felt in the tub overrode his system and he pushed his dick in a little more, feeling the tip hit against a barrier. White stars blinded his vision immediately, his body shivering and shaking as he came hard into your womb. He took in heavy breaths, resting his head in the crook of your neck.

The burning was gone, he could finally feel the air in his room as it cooled down both of your bodies. It was gone but he wasn't done yet, no, he was far from it. Now that he had finally had a taste, he wasn't going to let you leave, not when he had bound himself to you. Figuratively and literally.

His pupils were blown out with pleasure, the blue color barely making its presence known as he began to kiss up your neck. You were barely there, eyes heavy with sleep but still groaning as he began to move once more, walls too sensitive to handle anymore. That's okay, he would breed you in your sleep if he had to.

" 'm gonna put more pups into you." His words slurred as he lazily thrusted, his knot pulling and pushing into a particular nerve bundle. You could only whine in agreement, completely engrossed and fucked out on his cock as you quivered from the stimulation.

Gorou will take real good care of you. What was he thinking before? A general always will need his soldier, what a fool he was for trying to believe that he never wanted you. A rope can only be tightened so much before it inevitably snaps. You belonged here in his home, warming his bed so he could take you whenever he returned from the battlefield. He picked his head up from your neck, kissing you deeply once more.

You were truly a heaven-sent blessing, weren't you? As fate may have it, he had hope that Orobaxi and Her Excellency would bless the both of you with a beautiful litter.

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jasondeansgothwife · 9 months ago

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lawlight fic rec list

so i’m gonna do a series of these, starting with my favorite death note ship! make sure to pay attention to all warnings on these fics. enjoy! if you have a ship you’d like me to make a rec list for, please just send me an ask! i don’t want to be obnoxious, and i’m not saying they’re good, but i (slackjawbitch on ao3) have some lawlight fics up!

♡ = a favorite of kitty’s

angst

♡ 1. i’m drowning; please save me: L looks at Yagami Light and drowns. There is no other way to put it. As the days pass and blend into weeks, L looks at Yagami Light sitting next to him, the harsh lines of his face creased and determined, and he swallows water.

L looks at Yagami Light and he cannot breathe.

great characterization, always makes me very emo, and is probably a pretty major influence on my writing. one shot. 1,817 words.

2. always waiting for you just to cut to the bone: And then, breaking through the pounding in his head he hears what would be the last words out of that wretched man’s lips.

“I love you.”

fic for teh death note drama (2016) canon! title is unfortunately from a t*ylor sw*ft song (/silly) but this fic is so good and sad.

3. Our Bodies, Possessed By Light: L. Lawliet is a gifted photographer who believes he has understood the light and its secrets. Light Yagami is a young, unstable and slightly crooked model. Together, they kill time.

modeling and photography au. make sure to read all teh tags and warnings for this one; there’s nothing gross, but some potentially triggering subjects for some people are in here. multi chapter. 81,218 words.

4. Hearts and Spades: Which would you choose? Love or death? RaitoL, slight AU.

short but sweet piece featuring that classic fanfiction dot net era vibe, an emo-ass playing card metaphor (/pos), and a recounting of l’s death scene that made me sad over him all over again (also /pos). and also light being obnoxious, but it’s death note, so that’s usually a given, lol. one shot. 1,801 words.

5. Not Quite Drowning: Sometimes Light ponders happiness. L/Light

a short lawlight and light character study. i like it a lot, and i don’t usually like light, so that should tell you something about how well i think it’s written! one shot. 424 words.

♡ 6. Water, water, water: In the bath, they forget they’re a detective and a suspect; they remove these identities along with their clothes, layer by layer until there are only the handcuffs left. And them; facing the other in the eerie calmness of their bathroom.

At least, it’s how Light sees it.

i really love this one! make sure to read teh tags, as eating disorders and drugs are mentioned, for example. angst with a happy ending! one shot. 3,504 words.

fluff

1. Silver Bells: Silver bells...silver bells...

They’ve made it. Everything is okay now, when they’re dancing in the candlelight.

really, really cute! i recommend it as a palate cleanser to make you feel better after reading a sad one, lol. one shot. 1,255 words.

♡ 2. New Year’s Eve: "I've seen fireworks before," he says. "This is... so much... more."

just a cute little new year’s eve lawlight fireworks show! this one is also from 2009 which is kinda cool to me, haha. i like this author’s descriptive language a lot. one shot. 507 words.

♡ 3. Do Gay Penguins Go to Hell?: Too many New Year snacks bring about a family discussion between L, Raito and their daughter about healthy diet, common sayings and nature of good and evil. And gay penguins, of course. AU

a really darling kid fic, based on teh stupid, homophobic controversy over that adorable kids’ book about teh gay penguin couple. one shot. 3,791 words.

4. A Feeling: It's LxLight fluff! This takes place after Light was confined and lost his memories, chained to L. : D SO YUS. SOME FLUFF FOR YAH D: Hope you leik it :D

very cute “l and light cuddle and kiss” fic, written by a scene kid in 2008, which is extra points with me! one shot. 1,006 words.

alright! i will add to this rec list as i find more fics, and i would love it if people would send in their favorite lawlight fics!

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dira333 · 7 months ago

Note

hii, i kinda want to grow my blog, i just dont know how lol

do you have any tips or suggestions on how to do so?

(WHY DO I SOUND LIKE A BOT DAMN-)

Hi there, Mrs not a bot...

I'm on a trip and today has been a lot, so excuse me if I sound a little loopy sometimes, but...

I guess you have to ask yourself what "growth" means to you.

Do you want more followers? Do you want more connection to other people using this platform? What do you consider a sign of growth?

For me, it's not necessarily followers. I mean, I'm not a big blog, I have a few hundred followers whereas others have thousands.

For me, growth means to have people talking to you, to have this connection with others. So I compliment people on their work whenever I can and try to get to talk to them. If someone leaves a comment on my work I try and talk to them as well, just to get a conversation rolling. I do Plotbunny Games (or Request Games) to actively involve people the best I can...

But here is some advice in no particular order that you can think about:

The broader your topics are, the more people will follow you. If you only post about Haikyuu, you will only have Haikyuu fans follow you. If you post about different fandoms, you have a more diverse following. However, if you only post about what's recent and in, you might lose your interest in posting altogether.

Consistent posting is key. if you cannot create something every day, use the reblog function. Reblog everything that you like. That way, you can have a diverse blog and make other people happy.

Think about filters and trigger warnings. I do not do well around spicy stuff (I am over 30 years old), so my blog is strictly sfw. That means I might lose some followers because they want spicier stuff. But people like me, who do not want to come across spice or smut prefer blogs that clearly show what they are about and stand by it, be it by offering a clear tagging system or just cutting some things out altogether.

You do not have to tag anything that you blog or post, but it will make it easier to find you, your stuff and its general courtesy. If you do not tag your smut or spice, I will not follow you simply because I cannot trust Tumblr to filter everything out for me. The same goes for other people. Find your happy medium and accept that not everyone will want to follow you.

Connect with others. Start small if you're shy. You like someone's writing? Reblog their stuff with their tags. Next, you might want to leave a little comment in the tags, on the post, or when you reblog it. Anonymous asks are a good thing to practice and when you're ready, drop by and introduce themselves. You might find a friend and a follower this way.

Your blog doesn't have to be just your own stuff. That's what the reblog button is for. That way you give credit to the original creator and you have more diversity on your blog. But if you create your own stuff it's a good idea to create a masterlist on the way that can grow along. Say I read one of your fanfics and it's amazing. I want to read more of your work... but how do I find it? -> Masterlist. Or I found one of your drawings and it's amazing? Maybe you can add the tag to your pinned post so I can see them all at once? There's so much you can do, try it out.

Don't forget that Tumblr is not Tiktok. Posts rarely blow up overnight. Likes are nice, but Reblogs are nicer and a comment is a gold star. Growing takes time. Focus on what makes you happy. Looking at your activity feed can get addicting but it does not give you the happiness it proposes. Instead, focus on what made you start your blog in the first place.

Hope this was helpful to you. Don't hesitate to leave another ask if you have more questions, but don't expect too much from me this week, I'm exhausted.

#dira.asks #tumblr advice #advice

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hopelesslygaysstuff · 1 month ago

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Maybe it could be more democratic using another acronym? Like nmlnm…

Easier to filter too, it’s kinda frustrating looking for w|w stories and having to filter the filter manually

I’m sorry, I’m just rambling now hahahaha

Btw I love EVERYTHING you write ❤️

No. I will be using wlw because that is what I'm comfortable with. Your suggestion is well-meaning but misguided. Please explore your discomfort and internalized transphobia on your own before coming on my blog.

I understand that penises are a trigger for you, but it isn't my duty to change anything about the way I tag or write. I give content warnings for all my fics, please use them and don't interact with things that upset you.

As a trans writer, these kinds of messages are upsetting. If you don't like my fics where a character has a penis, don't read it and don't comment about it and tell me how I should tag my own fics and what labels I should be using. I'm assuming you're cis, so please don't tell trans people how they should label themselves or label the trans characters they write.

Anyways I'm also rambling lol

#answered asks #anon ask

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sammy-is-not-smiley · 2 years ago

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Lost, Hit the Wall

Eddie Munson x fem!reader x Steve Harrington

(Interactions with Eddie and Steve are separate, no Steddie)

Summary: Your guilt for leaving Eddie in the Upside Down triggers an extremely realistic nightmare... When you wake up, you're hit with a certainty that it wasn't just a nightmare.

Wordcount: 2.5k

Warnings/tags: Depiction of fear and panic, being chased, kinda vampire Eddie, language, choking, stress, crying, depiction of extreme guilt, much angst between Eddie and reader, pet names used, set after S4, one use of (y/n), boyfriend Steve, hurt/comfort from Steve, drinking is mentioned, I think that's all?

A/N: Wow, 2 Eddie fics in one week? Who am I? Anyway, this fic was inspired by a maladaptive daydream I had while driving and listening to Nightmare by Avenged Sevenfold. I used a few quotes from the song in it too, hope I didn't execute them too poorly lol. No promises on a part 2 but I'm thinkin about it. Ideas for it are welcome. Enjoy!

A strike of lightning startles you awake.

Somehow already sitting upright, you gasp for breath as if you hadn’t been breathing at all. It burns your lungs. Frantically, you look around to see only dense forest surrounding you on all sides. It's dark, cold, and the smell… it's… familiar. A bad, bad familiar.

Another booming strike of lightning nearby invokes a panic within you causing you to scurry to your feet, staring upwards into the sky. The lightning had been red.

Shit.

No.

No, no, no, not again. You can't be here again, how did you even get back here? You had escaped the Upside Down, it was over!

Looking down at yourself you find your outfit to be the one you had worn that day. Bomber jacket, dirty jeans, and heavy boots that were almost too small. You remembered also having a backpack you had filled with extra supplies but… it wasn't on you. In fact, it seemed the only thing you had on you were the clothes on your back. Supplies, weapons, ammo, everything you would use to defend yourself was gone.

Desperately your feet spin you in circles as you try to find any trace of a gate you might have somehow fallen through. You were vulnerable, out in the open with nothing to help guarantee your safety.

This was bad.

The dark, still trees and vines were all that was there, seeming to mock you. No glowing gate in sight.

"Dustin!!" You screamed, remembering you had been paired with him for battle. You were grasping at straws but you needed to know if you really were alone here. There was no response. "Dustin!… Steve!… Steve, Robin, Nancy!" You practically sobbed, feeling weak at the knees. Still, no response came, only the echo of your voice greeted you back.

This was very bad.

A rustling in the trees above you drew your attention, however, you, once again, were met face-to-face with nothing but shadows of dead foliage.

You had to find a gate. You needed to get back.

Immediately you started running, just choosing a direction and going with it. Dead tree branches and brush slapped against your sleeves and legs as you huffed the air that was hard to breathe. The trees above you rustled again, and with a half glance behind you, you could make out a shadow that seemed to be jumping from tree to tree. The hair on the back of your neck stood on end at the thought of a creature chasing you. Hunting you. You could have sworn you faintly heard laughter from above. That sound was replaced by hearing yourself start to panic, audibly whimpering to yourself through breaths with nothing on your mind but getting to Eddie's trailer.

Eddie.

Suddenly you broke through a tree line and froze, the thought of his name still haunting you.

Eddie.

You… Had escaped.

You had left him. Dustin had insisted you at least take his body back for a proper burial but you had forced him away from the body. Both you and Dustin had been injured, and an irrational fear told you that if you weren’t quick enough, the gate in the trailer would close you in. So you drug the sobbing boy away, watching him rip the guitar pick necklace off of Eddie as he screamed, and you got the both of you out of that hellhole with your lives.

You just left Eds there as if he was just another one of those bats. Why did you leave him?

Glancing around you in the present, you finally found some sort of solace in figuring out your location in Hawkins. Just as you caught sight of a road to take, something yanked you by the collar of your jacket.

Roughly it lifted you up, your legs dangling below you. Finally letting out a scream, you reached above you to try to both release the grip of the thing and hold on for dear life. In a passing thought, you realize the grip on you feels oddly like cold human hands.

Whatever it was lifted you up no more than about fifteen feet before another cackle rang in your ears.

"Aw, is someone scared?" A voice taunted, then released you to a hard welcome with the ground once again.

Ignoring the pain in your side, you attempted to get up again to go for the road. It was slow going at first, but after stumbling, the hill started to assist you. Just as your feet were about to reach the pavement, a large figure dropped in front of you from above. Reflexively you skid to a halt and fell backward onto the dead grass.

"You got somewhere you plan on being, babe? Don't you wanna have a little fun first?" The figure condescends, stepping toward you as you scoot back in fear.

Above you was a looming dark figure, an expanse of rough wings on its back overshadowing its front features… but your eyes widened in recognition despite the added darkness. A mess of long hair and dark clothing was all you needed to see.

You shake your head slightly in disbelief. "E-Eddie?… Wh-…. Y-You're-"

His wings curl in slightly as he kneels down in front of you. A flash of lightning reveals what was hidden from your sight. He still wore the clothes you left him in, blood-stained and all. His skin looked sickly pale and covered in spots that look decayed. And his irises… completely blackened like an eclipse. What was also revealed was a cocky smirk on his face. "I knew you'd be terrified to see me back," He leaned in, crawling on his hands and knees toward your frozen body. "But I didn't think it'd be this good." His teeth practically glow in the dark as his tight-lipped smirk turns into a wicked grin.

Your heart pounded painfully in your ears when you shook your head more vigorously. “How?" You asked, although it came out in a squeak.

He chuckled. "Let's just say that wizard girl you've got isn't the only one that has tricks up their sleeve."

As if jolted with electricity, you scurried to your feet again, this time running in the opposite direction of the road. You know Hawkins like the back of your hand, you could make your way to the trailer from any point. You just had to lose this warped version of Eddie.

This wasn't Eddie though. Eddie was dead.

A burst of nefarious laughter echoed behind you. “Aw, come on, we just started talkin’!”

With all your strength, you managed to scale the hill again and headed towards a small suburban neighborhood. Maybe if you closed yourself in one of the houses you could lose him. You needed to get away from the vulnerable open air.

Behind you, a thunderous flapping chased after you. This time you didn’t dare glance back, convinced the new Eddie was mere inches from grabbing at you again. You didn’t want to know what he would do if he caught you again, and his laughter wasn’t comforting.

Hastily, you ran into the first house you could reach. Hoping it was unlocked, you yanked at the door. Relief filled you when it opened with ease. Turning and making sure to lock the deadbolt, you stepped back from the door, chest heaving for air. You stared at it, hoping that the door didn’t open as easily for him as it did for you despite the lock.

A hefty thump on the roof made your heart sink to your gut when you finally made the connection. Finally realized that he had been flying... like a bat.

You then heard him jump down onto the grass at the side of the house, feet sounding firmly rooted to the ground with no hint of stumbling. Expectantly, you stilled and listened for his footsteps to come to the front door. Instead, he went the opposite direction, toward the back of the house.

The back door. You didn’t check the back door.

You took a few steps with wide eyes before you heard the back door bash open, a giggle quickly following it.

“Oh, little one, you’re being so rude. I was sent just to greet you! By the highest power!” His boots taunted in slow steps, like a lion approaching prey.

You glanced around the livingroom you stood in, desperate for a hiding spot. Your eyes landed on a corner between the wall and couch. It was snug, but it would do.

In a flash, you unlocked the front door and swung it open loudly before quietly dashing to your chosen hiding spot. Pulling your knees to your chest, you attempted to slow your breathing as you listened to Eddie’s footsteps stomp into the room you were in. Then, it was quiet, your breathing kept quiet under your own hand at your mouth. You sat, waiting to hear him go outside and chase after ‘you’. He did no such thing.

A dark chuckle in the room startled you. “Trying to be smart, huh? Cute…. Real cute…. You always try to pull stunts like this. They never work, do they? But you know what?”

A weight pushed itself violently onto the couch next to you and a cold breath fanned at the top of your head.

You looked up to meet his grin with horror. “I’m smarter.” Before you could lift yourself to your feet to run, he had your collar and hair grasped at the back. As his hold tightened it pulled painfully at your hair, causing you to grab at his hand and grimace.

He lifted you up, then threw you against the wall, almost knocking the wind out of you. Once again, before you could even think to move, his hand was at your neck holding you in place.

In response, you let out another pitiful sound of fear as you tried to pull his hand away at the wrist. His grip was insanely strong. Inhumanly strong.

“Please, please, wait, Eds-” You croaked out, struggling under his weight. It felt weird to call him that, especially like this.

“Please what?” He snapped, anger suddenly clear on his face. “Leave you here? Alone? Like you left me?”

Your struggling halted as you stared back at him in shock.

All he did was smirk back at you. “Yeah, I know. Don’t act so innocent. Vecna showed me everything. In fact, Captain Vec and I are very much alive and thriving.” He leaned in, cool breath now wisping at your face. The smell was horrendous. “And you know quite well… That you belong here with us.”

Tears brimmed your eyes, an old garden of guilt flourishing once again in your chest. “You were-… How-…. I’m sorry,” You finally got out, throat strained under the pressure of his hand. “I’m so sorry, Eddie,” You whimpered, tears now falling freely.

He smiled cooly and shook his head, face still inches from yours. “You know that’s not enough, sweetheart. Oh, and it hurts doesn’t it?” He tightened his grip on your neck ever so slightly. “It hurts to know that you belong here with me… Alone, undead, left to eternally starve.” He leaned in ever closer, causing you to squeeze your eyes shut. “That is until someone fleshy like you comes along.”

Once again you find your strength and start to struggle, clawing at his skin, kicking with your feet. However, he’s unfazed as he uses his other hand to pull aggressively at your shirt collar.

“Stop, please-”

“I’m sure you told everyone that I had been too far gone to ever take back home, too torn apart,” He grunted, beginning to rip your shirt to pull over your shoulder. “A replaceable liar is all you are. One that won’t be missed, just like me.”

He then paused, then jostled your head by the neck, urging you to look at him as he leaned back to look at you once more. You do so, tears still blurring your vision slightly. Although blurred, you could clearly make out his wicked smile… And the bright canines now extended into fangs.

When your terrified eyes met his, his face shifted into a pout that mocked. “Aw, baby, don’t look so scared. You should have known,” He began to chuckle as he leaned in again, mouth brushing your exposed shoulder as he spoke. “You should have known the price.”

Searing pain exploded on your flesh as he bit down and an oozing warmth began to coat the skin around his mouth.

A loud scream echoed through the bedroom as you sat up, tears drenching your face. In a panic, you sat up and tried to push yourself back, bunching up the bed covers as you did so. It took you a bit to even notice the hands at your waist or the boy in front of you trying to get your attention.

“Hey, hey, you’re okay, you’re okay, look at me,” When your eyes finally met Steve’s he brought a hand up to your wet cheek. “There you go, look at me. You’re safe, I promise, you’re safe.”

A quick glance around you brought you back. Right. You had come over to Steves and… And you had drunk too much. He wouldn’t let you drive yourself home and just let you stay the night instead. You asked to sleep with him to keep you from having nightmares like usual. You never had nightmares when in the same bed as him… You never did… Until tonight.

At that realization, a hole of helplessness gaped in your chest, spurring on a totally new wave of tears to begin falling.

Wordlessly you leaned up and grabbed a hold of Steve, as if holding onto him would shield you from anything Vecna could ever do.

He gladly embraced you back, happy that he at least was able to get you awake and out of whatever fake world your mind had concocted from past events. He cradled your head to his neck as he leaned on the headboard, gently trying to assure you that everything would be okay.

The warmth of his body was an overwhelming relief compared to the cold skin of Eddie.

“Eddie,” You choked out, sobs straining your throat like Eddie’s hand had in your dream. Eventually, you just started repeating his name over and over again, trying to grasp what you had just seen until finally something else slipped out. “He’s alive.”

Steve hugged you tighter. “Baby, you know Eddie-… You know he’s gone.”

You shook your head vigorously in his neck, smearing tears on him. “No, no, Vecna he-”

“Vecna’s gone too. Rob, Nance, and I-”

You suddenly pushed away from him to look him in the eyes again. A newfound fire was in your eyes. “You say you killed him, but did you see him dead?”

“See him dead? Of course I-” He stopped himself, eyes darting away from you for a couple seconds. “Yeah, I…”

“You didn’t... remember? Not really,” Your face was still scrunched in sorrow, pain, and guilt. “You just assumed. You thought he disintegrated or some shit.”

Steve’s brow came together. “Well, I mean we-…” He shook his head in confusion. “(Y/n), what does this have to do with Eddie?”

“He brought Eddie back,” You emphasized, grabbing his hand and squeezing it. “Eddie’s alive. They’re both still alive.”

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enteragoodnamehere · 11 months ago

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last edited: 10/11/24

Cicada. It/its pronouns. 18. alloaro baby butch objectum. artist, writer, worldbuilder. horror and circus and insect and mannequin fan. weird cat thing.

This blog has a little bit of everything, mostly reblogs with original stuff thrown in too. My art/writing/etc. tag is #cicadas creations, feel free to check it out!

Spam likes and/or reblogs welcomed and appreciated here

I have bad anxiety among other things so I may not be the one to reach out first, but I don't mind DMs or asks or any other form of interaction at all! Feel free to message me or send me asks, if I don't respond its likely because I didn't see it or I saw it and forgot about it.

I trigger tag things as "cw: [thing]". Note that I don't really tag general horror (unless it features something else that needs tagged, such as gore) or bugs/insects (unless they're spiders). If you need anything tagged, please let me know and I'll fix it right away.

No set DNI because they're not super effective, I'll just block you if I don't like you. Please inform me if I reblog something from a t*rf/racist/zionist/other bigot, as I don't always know or check.

Credits: Stained glass dividers from here. Header from here. TMA userboxes from here and here. RW stamps from here. "parasite lover" stamp from here. "Self-Made Being" and "Funny Jester" blinkies from here.

Thanks for reading :3 Tags will be below the cut

Content warnings and potential triggers will be tagged as "#cw [item]" please don't hesitate to reach out if you need something tagged

A lot of these are self explanatory but idc. I like explaining things

#cicada screams -> textpost and rambling tag

#cicadas creations -> as mentioned above, tag for things I make (art/fic/etc.)

#nicky tag -> photos of my pet cornsnake, Nicky :]

#fav -> my favorite posts

#save -> things I'm saving for later. Could be art references, resources, or things I want to remember to come back to

#i think i hauve covid -> things and people that i think are (meme voice) kinda hot. Some of the stuff tagged is kinda… odd. Don’t worry about it (thumbs up)

#other people’s art -> art by other people. My most used tag because I reblog a Lot of art lol

#[name] posting -> tags for specific characters I really like

#therian stuff -> tag for my own posts/reblogs about being a therian

#bug tag :D / #cat tag / #snake tag / #paleo tag -> tags for bugs, cats, snakes, and dinosaurs + other prehistoric life respectively

#dragon tag -> like the tags above, but for dragons

#various beasts tag -> tag for any other animals than the ones above

#poetry tag -> tag for both poetry and creative writing in general

#🏠 -> stuff about houses, especially living and haunted houses (think House of Leaves or Anatomy by Kitty Horrorshow)

#oc: [name] -> original characters

#dragon: [name] -> like my oc tags but for my flight rising dragons

Most of these will be tagged below this post for convenience. Again, thanks for reading :)

#pinned post #cicada screams #cicadas creations #nicky tag #fav #save #other people’s art #therian stuff #bug tag :D #cat tag #snake tag #paleo tag #dragon tag #various beasts tag #poetry tag #🏠

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moefongo · 2 years ago

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The bachelors (romanced) reacting to the builder's death (Part 2)

The long awaited part 2 is here! I put it under a cut for spoiler alerts, and this one doesn't have any trigger warnings but like always if you need me to tag something let me know! Part 3 is Qi and Unsuur, i didn't add them here bc i was afraid of the world limit fucking everything up (its happened so much that i just aaa)

Also this has been in the works since before the news of Pen coming out as non being a marriage candidate (which has me devastated bc he's growing on me and i kinda wanted him to rebel against Duvos and having his own family as he deserves)

Oh yeah English isnt my main language so if anything sounds weird, then its just that lol

Tw for mentions of suicide and murder

Pablo

This was supposed to be a normal day for them both, the builder was going to go off to help the Civil Corps, while he worked the barber shop as usual. They had made plans to take the evening off, once the builder came back from their mission. Days prior, Pablo had interrogated them so he could know what they were going to do with the Civil Corps, mostly so he didn’t have to worry too much about them. Because he wasn’t prepared to handle the stress of dating a builder like them.

The morning passed rather uneventfully, and as there were no more clients scheduled for the morning, Pablo took a short break by walking out to his usual spot on the porch of his barber shop. But as he settled into his usual spot, Pablo sensed something was off, not that he was superstitious but he felt that something bad happened or was about to happen. His first thought was that the builder was in trouble and it worried him immensely; were he the impulsive type, he would have run after them.

All he could do was hope for the best, and decided to head inside once again to find something to distract his mind for a while. He opted to clean up around the salon and rearrange the furniture several times. After an hour of cleaning and rearranging, Heidi entered the salon. He knew her better than anyone, and by the look in her face it was more than enough for him to know that something terrible had happened.

She didn’t beat around the bush with the news, but after hearing that they had died, Pablo felt like the world was crumbling around him. Heidi knows him just as well as he does her, and she simply stopped talking and hugged Pablo tightly. Up until that moment Pablo was fighting back his tears and when Heidi hugged him, he just broke down crying.

Pablo was inconsolable; he felt a sense of despair that was eating away at him. As he cried he screamed and begged the Light, for the first time in his life to please bring back the builder to him.

After two hours Heidi was still consoling Pablo, and at this point he looked like a mess, his eyeliner and mascara all messed up and his hair all disheveled. But as if a miracle had happened, the builder swung the door of his salon open in an almost dramatic fashion. When Pablo locked eyes with the builder, he ran over to them before even giving them a chance to enter properly. Pablo hugged them and cried even more, but this time he cried of relief.

Once the builder and Pablo were busy talking, or more likely Pablo scolding them for being so reckless and for making him cry so much. Heidi felt relieved as well and as she left the salon. And now that they were alone Pablo closed his salon for the rest of the day and forced the builder to stay and rest with him, which means that they are going to have a spa day and then sleep the remainder of the day away without a care in the world. Besides, the builder has all the time in the world to explain everything to the rest of the town, but for now they have to make it up to their boyfriend.

Pen (He is the spy)

In Duvos Pen had no name, he was only known as Tiger or The Tiger; his mother was Duvos and his father was the Emperor. And thanks to this, he was raised and educated to become a soldier and a spy. His mission began way back in Meidi, where he infiltrated the Church of the Light and soon after he was sent to Sandrock and thus the new “Protector of Sandrock” was born.

He never meant to get too attached to anyone in this town, let alone the new builder. But eventually he fell in love with them. Pen knew it would be a terrible mistake, but he couldn’t fight his love for them, since it was the first time he’s loved and been genuinely loved by anyone. Besides, being with the builder came with the benefit of gaining useful information for his mission.

Pen usually was in the know of whatever the Civil Corps did, except for today. He did his usual round, taking a detour to check on the builder, since it was around the same time they returned from the Commerce Guild. Oddly, they weren’t there, perhaps they went ruin diving or were out gathering materials, and resumed his patrol without much worry.

Pen also suspected that there was a secret agent amongst the citizens and whoever it was, was closing in on him and he had to be very careful in his actions. Especially since Logan also knew of his true nature. But that’s a story for another time, luckily he was able to shift the blame to Logan and have him ousted as an outlaw, as an attempt to cover his tracks for now.

As noon rolled around, there was still no sign of the builder, and it was odd since they usually have lunch together and then Pen gracefully flexes his perfect muscles to motivate the builder for the day. He waited a little longer for them to come by, but now he was worried. Many questions ran through his mind. What if someone from Duvos caught on that he was in a relationship with the builder and assassinated them as a form of precaution? This was his top fear since a fellow spy did the same thing in Portia and had to leave them and their new born baby, and as to not repeat the same mistake, he received a communication to not engage romantically with anyone in the town, and if he did the person ran the risk of getting killed.

Now Pen ran to the Civil Corps, only to find the office empty, except for some paperwork that was carelessly left in plain sight that detailed their plan to lure Logan’s goat to find his hideout. Trying to remain positive, Pen hoped they weren’t dead, just on a mission. Still though he needed to know they were okay so using the information on the papers he made his way to the spot where the bait was left, and followed the horse’s and goat tracks until he spotted Justice and Unsuur frantically screaming the builder’s name near a cliff.

His heart was beating so hard he felt it ringing in his ears as he walked closer to them. Pen loudly yelled at them demanding to know what happened to them, and all Justice could do was apologize.

His whole world was falling apart, though he knew he had to end things with the builder sooner or later, he never wanted to lose them like this, without a goodbye. He screamed at them both for being so reckless. Then he demanded them to leave as he would handle the recovery of their body himself. With no other choice, Unsuur and Justice headed back to town and left Pen to find a way to rescue the builder. On the other hand, Pen waited for them to leave, and broke down crying.

There was nothing he wanted more than to have the builder alive and next to him. Perhaps he could abandon this life and get them to run away with him and start a new life somewhere far away from Duvos. But that was only a dream far from his reach, especially now.

After somewhat composing himself, Pen began to look around for a safe route to climb down the cliff, though his first idea was to jump and if he died, at least he could be reunited with the builder. Eventually he began walking further until he found a spot safe enough at first glance to begin his descent. In the distance, however, was a beaten and bruised builder, who had taken quite a whooping from Logan, and unfortunately forgot to pack supplies. They were limping back to town and on their way they spotted Pen who was trying to climb down. With all of their strength they screamed for Pen and he immediately turned to look and saw them. Pen felt like he could breathe again, and ran towards them, not wanting to waste any time in reuniting with them.

Once he reached them he saw the state they were in and felt horrible for not being there to keep them safe. He then gently scooped the exhausted builder in his arms and carried them back to town. They had passed out, but were safe in their hands and it was all that mattered. In his mind, he promised that he would leave his old life behind and start a new one with them here in Sandrock. A life without Duvos or any missions, a life where he was simply Pen, The Protector of Sandrock.

Pen (He is not the spy)

Pen was raised in the church as an orphan. He was placed in an orphanage in Meidi after his mother died in the hands of a Duvos soldier, since they lived close to the border and right in the middle of all the conflict. Ever since he wanted to help those in need and protect people from any dangers, especially Duvos. In Sandrock, he took on his role of defender. Life was simple for him and things got better when he became the builder’s boyfriend. This relationship pushed him to be an even better version of himself and work hard to keep his beloved builder safe from any danger.

The day before everything happened, Pen knew that the Civil Corps and the builder were scheming something. It upset him greatly that the builder, who told him everything, kept this quiet and despite Pen pressing Justice and Unsuur for answers, both men kept quiet or dodged the questions. The builder did the same, and it worried Pen greatly that they were going to something dangerous.

The following day, Pen stayed close to the builder’s workshop so he could follow them and the Civil Corps so he could know what they were up to. Though stealth isn’t his forte, he somehow managed to follow them unnoticed. So far it seemed they wanted to lure Logan’s goat to take them to his hideout, he thought to himself that all of the secrecy was unnecessary, but still he was as uneasy as ever. After a few moments, the goat took the bait and ran off, the builder charging behind it.

The next moments were a blur, the goat stopping in its track at the edge of the cliff, the builder screaming as they plunged to their demise as he ran as fast as possible in a futile attempt to grab them as both Justice and Unsuur stood there petrified with shock and horror.

All Pen could do was watch horrified as his beloved builder disappeared into the darkness. Saying he was devastated was an understatement, Pen was absolutely broken. He was numb, he didn’t have the strength to scream to the men beside him. The best they could do for him now was to take him back to the church.

Once there, even Miguel was worried for Pen, since he had never seen him like this before. Every church member tried their best to make him talk but it was futile, Pen wasn’t going to say a thing. Burgess then thought it was best to give him some space and time to rest, in hopes that he’d open up about his emotions.

The hours passed and the sun was beginning to set, while Burgess sat on a chair next to Pen’s door just in case he needed some help. Around that time the builder was headed over to Pen’s door but they were stopped by a very worried Burgess who bombarded them with questions about their well being and if they had any injuries. On the other side, Pen was sitting on his bed, still silent until he heard the sweet voice of his beloved builder.

Pen was so excited that he tore the door off its hinges and threw it on the hall before picking up the builder and hugging them tightly. Burgess didn’t mind the door since the circumstances were extraordinary, since now Pen was back to his usual self.

The following days however, Pen made sure to stick right next to the builder under the pretense that he was going to be their personal bodyguard from now on, but in reality he was absolutely terrified of losing them again.

#my time at sandrock #mtas pablo #mtas pen

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arielhopepeace · 2 years ago

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This is a Javier Peña and Harry Styles (again lol) short story for all my fellow Pedro Pascal lovers 💕 This one isn’t gonna be as sweet as the Joel one. Y/N’s life kinda sucks lmfao. I will be posting the trigger warnings since some of the content is sensitive! This was a story suggestion by my best friend who doesn’t have a tumblr otherwise I’d tag her lol. BUT I will be coming out with another Joel story after this one so, feel free to follow me if you’d like to read that when it comes out!

As always, enjoy ❤️

Part two is here

Part three is here

Final part is here

Part One

18+ only

Tw: prostitution, abusive father, mention of drugs, mention of death, extreme violence, guns, murder, abuse in general, mention of sexual assault, implied smut (there’s gonna be a lot of this, she’s a prostitute 😬)

I’d also like to quickly say that I’ll never ever write sexual assault into my stories. It’s just a topic that is too sensitive for me, and for many others out there. There are mentions of it because men are sick and twisted in this world, but I will never describe it happening, or have it happen to y/n. Just a heads up on that ❤️ Anyway, onto the story to escape reality…

4,200 words

There's nothing that I love more than the scenery of Columbia; the beaches, mountains, forests. For the last few months that I've lived here with my father, I've always felt melancholy about the fact that I wasn't born in this beautiful country.

The move was a necessary change in order for my dad to be more successful with his business ventures. I despise the man, but he's filthy rich due to running with the narcos of Medellin. Of course he's never given me anything from his wealth, and instead has pawned me off to be a prostitute for extra income.

I tried my best to fight him on it, but to no avail. You can't argue with a powerful, dangerous man like him. All it does is get me badly beaten. He doesn't like to hit me often since it's bad for business, as he likes to say. Men don't generally like to sleep with women who are all battered and bruised. They think I'll carry some sort of emotional baggage and try to cling to them for security.

Truthfully, I'm very numb to all of it; the beatings, the sex, the disgusting clients, everything. There's no point in me feeling bad for myself. After all, I'm still the daughter of an important drug dealer who works for the drug dealer of Colombia, Pablo Escobar. Nobody would dare to hurt me, since it could possibly end up with them "disappearing". I don't think my father would ever kill someone for my sake, though. But I know he has for his.

It's been a difficult transition since I know hardly any Spanish, and that is the only language anyone speaks here. There's been countless encounters where I've been left feeling imbecilic and witless. My father never bothered to teach me the language, but hired his own personal tutor in order to better conduct business. This way, nobody will be able to talk about anything right in front of his face without him being able to understand. He never wants to be made a fool of.

The house my father lives in is incredibly opulent and pristine. It's just outside of Medellin, sitting on an emerald hill overlooking a vast crystal blue lake that shines brilliantly in the sun. Anytime I'm there for a visit, it makes me wish I lived in that damned mansion. Instead, I have to live in a shitty apartment in the more run-down side of town.

My place is close to one of the whorehouses where I like to sometimes find clients. Usually, I'll dress nicely with a provocative touch and head to a bar, fishing for men whose eyes linger on my breasts. The proposition I set is only said with my body, and once the man understands that I can't speak Spanish, not much else needs to be said, anyway. I'll say my price before we leave, choosing a number I'm comfortable with charging and pronouncing.

I have yet to find someone who refuses to pay, or is unnecessarily rough. It's a relief, because that was one of my biggest concerns going into this. My dad doesn't think that my job has any danger, but he also couldn't give two shits about me, it seems.

There's a slight sense of giddy elation that courses through me, knowing that I'm able to take the day to myself. All I want to do is go to the clinic to do my weekly health check, and then to my father's lakeside house to bask in the sun while he's away for a while today.

He always has to be made aware of my company, just in case he were conducting business and I startled one of his ruthless peers. They all know what I look like, and a few have even solicited sex from me before, but I'd rather be cautious about it than get shot for showing up unannounced.

Once the clinic gives me yet another clean bill of health, I go on my way to my dad's mansion. The warm air whips my hair around the car from the open windows, allowing me to breathe in the crisp feeling of summer. It trails goosebumps of satisfaction along my skin, a smile splitting my face as I giggle lightly to myself.

There aren't many moments when I'm truly happy, but being alone on the drive to my dad's is definitely one of them.

To my dismay, my father is home, his smooth, lavish car parked at the top of his gated cobblestone driveway. He was supposed to be out all day, but I'm sure he'll explain why he's here so early.

I step out of my run-down sedan, closing the creaking, rusted door shut with a slight slam. My breathing is a bit more shaky as I approach the front door, not really wanting to face my dad today. He knew I was coming, though, so he shouldn't be mad, right?

The living room is relatively quiet as I enter, being greeted by one of the maids in the foyer.

"Dad?" I call out, hoping he doesn't answer me.

His raised voice echoes through the halls, my high heels taking me clicking down the marbled pathway, the walls are so tall it feels like they could swallow me whole at any moment. There's some profane Spanish coming from my dad's office, and I inwardly kick myself as I push the ajar door to it open slowly, not knowing if he's going to scream at me for this.

He has his front turned towards the countless amount of books that he never touches, an obvious strain in his irate tone. The large, gray mobile phone is pressed to his ear, the antennae shining silver above his head by several inches.

My eyes widen as he turns to me, my body immediately cowering in fear as he takes in my presence. He ends the call, gripping the phone so tightly in his fist, I'm worried he'll crack it.

"Hey, y/n," he says quickly. "What have I said about being in here when I'm on calls?"

"I'm sorry," I stammer. "I just wanted you to know that I was here. I'm sorry," I apologize again. All I ever do is apologize to this man when really I want to punch him.

He holds up a large, murderous hand, shaking it side to side. "It's fine," he snaps. "You do what you have to, I don't care. Just leave me be. Got it?"

Without his eyes meeting mine for even a second, I nod, scurrying down the halls as fast as I can without breaking an ankle in my heels. I'm once again greeted by the warmth of the air and sun, surprisingly able to breathe better out here than I was inside.

"You're here," a British voice says beside me.

My head turns to see the charming, dashing Harry, my father's right hand man. "Oh, hi, Harry." I spot the gun sticking out of his belt, making me swallow hard.

He stuffs his ring-clad fingers into his powder blue suit pockets, a small smile settled onto his pink lips. "What are you doing here today?"

I point to the lake over the hill. "Gonna sun tan for a while. Need to not look so—gringa."

Harry chuckles lightly. "I think your skin is perfect as it is."

His words make my cheeks feel hot, and I turn my face away briefly. "Thank you."

"How's business? Anybody need correcting, darling?" he asks with a hint on concern.

I've only known Harry for about a month, and he's been nothing but lovely since I met him. He's always had a bit of protectiveness towards me and I'm not sure why. We've done nothing but have conversations with each other, and he worships my father, a man who seemingly can't stand me. Maybe he feels like he needs to protect me just because he's obsessed with my dad. That reminder always turns me off to him, even if his dreamy looks and refreshing accent do the exact opposite.

"No," I shake my head. "Not everybody knows who I am, but those that do are very—respectful."

"If there's ever a time when somebody isn't," he lifts his suit jacket to flash the grip of his pistol, "you'll tell me, yeah?"

"Yes," I nod. "Thank you."

Harry tosses me a dimply grin, his teeth neat and white. "No need to thank me, y/n. You should always be respected."

I go to tell him that I'm respected by everyone except for my father, but I refrain. Do I think Harry would ever hurt me? Probably not. But that one percent of uncertainty is enough for me to keep my mouth shut.

When I'm settled near the lake, I strip off my dress, kicking my heels to the side shortly after. Being laid out in only my matching black bra and thong with the sun licking my skin is more euphoric than any sex I've had in Colombia.

The men haven't really interested me in the slightest. Of course there's been the few attractive ones who have approached me, but even if it feels good, it's not often that I'm pushed past that delicious precipice. I've yet to have a client who cared about my pleasure, but they're not paying for mine. They're paying for theirs and theirs alone.

My eyes are closed as I relax my shoulders into the grass, allowing my body to be consumed by the intense rays. Being here with nothing but the sound of nature puts me so much at ease that I sometimes fall asleep. The birds that sing their songs proudly above are all giving me unique, individual lullabies, and I love every single one.

The distant sound of shouting makes me sit up, looking up towards the house for any indication on what could be happening. I abandon my dress and heels, my pulse immediately rising from the anticipation of what is unfolding at the top of the hill.

My body freezes as I see several men on their knees in front of my father with Harry standing beside him. He has his pistol tucked underneath both of his hands that are crossed over his front. My dad has his large pistol pointed at one of the men's heads.

Even if I spoke Spanish, there's no way I'd be able to tell what they're saying. They're too far away. I do my best to stay out of sight as I move in closer, creeping behind a shrub that lines the pool, giving it a green privacy gate.

I jump involuntarily at the sound of a single bullet being emptied from the chamber, one of the men falling back into a puddle of his own blood and brain matter.

My sweaty palm flings to my mouth, tears unable to escape from the shock I feel in my body. Of course I know that my father kills people, but I've never actually seen him do it.

He presses the barrel to the next man's forehead who is speaking with a trembling voice to my cold-faced dad. It's eerie how he has no empathy or emotion, only wrath and strategy. I've been convinced that he's a psychopath since I was a kid, but now I truly believe it.

There were nights before my mom died that they'd argue, and he'd slap her around like he does to me. It always made me furious, but what the hell is a kid supposed to do in that situation? The only thing I could do was imagine I was somewhere else that was far away, like a tropical island.

But here I reside in a tropical land, not at all living the way I'd imagine when I was a child. This is hell simply being disguised by pretty packaging and a sparkly bow.

The next man falls back after a shot, the third one not even being interrogated before my father shoots him dead, tucking his gun into the back waistband of his pants. A few men begin to get to work moving the bodies as my dad walks away, Harry looking down at them.

He shifts as if he's thinking, his own gun being wedged between his hip and his pants. I fall to my bare knees onto the soft blades of grass, curling up behind the bush as I hold myself tightly, still not having shed a single tear. Why can't I cry for the dead? Am I as psychotic as my father?

As I stand to walk away back towards my things at the bottom of the hill, a voice stops me in my tracks, my body freezing in place as if Medusa herself has turned me to stone.

"Y/n?" Harry comes into my view. "What are you doing up here?"

Panic. The only thing I can do right now is panic.

"Please don't hurt me," my voice wavers. "I'm sorry."

His green eyes soften, his hands stretching out towards me. His palms graze my arms, my eyes squeezing shut from fear. "Hey, I'd never hurt you. Look at me," he says gently.

Reluctantly, my eyes flip up to his, meeting his delicate gaze. "I heard yelling so I came up here. I didn't mean to see anything."

"Shh," he coos calmly. "Let me walk you back down to the lake."

With reluctant, frozen feet, I begin to tread down the hill with Harry's hand gingerly gripping the crease of my arm. I'm not sure why I feel so terrified of him right now. He's obviously killed people before, too, but I'm just the most concerned about him killing me. What if he tells my father that I was snooping? I don't know what he'd do to me.

My dress and heels lay lifeless beside the lake, my eyes fixed on them instead of the tall man beside me.

"Please don't tell my dad," I plead quietly. "I don't know what he'd do to me, Harry."

Harry tilts my chin up, giving me a comforting smile. "I never saw you, darling."

"Who were they?" I ask softly.

"Rats," he answers firmly with a furrowed brow. "They were giving information to the DEA that just got into the country. You know it's serious if America is getting involved."

I swallow the lump in my throat. "Will you be caught?"

"Not if we're smart."

"Okay." My arms wrap around my midsection. "Thank you for your discretion."

Harry chuckles, nodding. "I'll always protect you."

My brows furrow. "Even against my father?"

He stands gazing at me for a moment before letting out a small sigh. "It depends on the circumstances."

Fuck, that's disappointing.

"Right," I nod, picking up my dress. "I think I'm gonna head out. I've had enough of the cartel for today."

Harry grazes my face with the side of his finger, the cool metal of his ring electrifying me. "Please know that I want to protect you from everybody, including your dad. It's just in certain situations, my hands would be tied."

"Like if I was a rat?"

He nods. "Exactly. I'd lose my head too if I protected you."

"I'd never do that, though. I know better."

Harry leans in and presses a delicate peck to my cheek. "I know, darling. You're too lovely."

"Why are you so nice to me?"

He beams, stroking my hair and tucking it behind my ear. "I like you, y/n. You're fucking beautiful and incredibly bright. I love any time that we talk."

Butterflies settle into the pit of my stomach, making my face turn hot. "And you don't care that I'm a prostitute?"

Harry shakes his head. "You didn't ask to be one in the first place."

I sigh as I sit down beside the lake, looking at the glimmering water. "I begged not to be, but he just—"

Harry rests beside me, tossing his arm around my shoulders. "I know. I'm sorry I can't protect you in those moments, either."

"I'm used to not having protection, Harry. It's fine."

He sighs, gently easing my head to rest on his shoulder as we both gaze at the water. My body relaxes in his embrace, my face turning to nuzzle into the crook of his neck. Harry lifts my head up by my chin, quickly and suddenly capturing my lips against his, making me gasp in my throat.

It's not at all that I'm opposed to this, but rather it was extremely unexpected.

"What are you doing?" I ask, his hands on my waist.

He pulls away, his eyes having darkened. "Do you want me to stop?"

With a small smirk I shake my head, pushing my head forward for more of his delectable lips.

We lay on the field naked and breathless, my legs shaky and weak from my orgasm, and my body glistening with sweat just like Harry's. I had no idea that today would turn out like this, but I can't say that I'm disappointed.

I gaze up at him from his tattooed chest, his golden cross necklace buried in his sprinkling of chest hair. He peers down at me, smiling as he pulls me up for another sweet kiss.

"I have to go," he says softly. "He'll be wondering where I went."

"Okay," I answer quietly, sitting up.

Harry slides on his briefs and pants, handing me my things with a gentle grin. "Let me walk you to your car."

Once we're both fully dressed, we make our way up the hill, Harry's hand in mine the whole way. He's being rather romantic about it which is not at all something I'm used to. And he actually made me have an orgasm, another thing that isn't ever achieved for me.

He pulls me in for a swift kiss, his hand at the small of my back as I giggle, my fingers twisting into his soft brown curls.

"Oh," he says quickly as if remembering something. Harry pulls out his wallet and hands me a thousand dollars all splayed out, a bashful smile on his face. "I don't want to take advantage of you, y/n. Please take it."

"That's way too much, Harry. And also, clients don't ever make me orgasm."

He chuckles, pulling me in for another kiss. "Consider me the best client, then."

Reluctantly, I take the money, shaking my head. "This is the most I've ever been paid for one session."

"God, I'd give you more if you wouldn't make fun of me."

I laugh, shaking my head. "You're sweet. You didn't have to pay me."

He pulls my hand up to his lips, kissing my knuckles. "I wanted to."

With one last glance to the handsome British man, I get into my car, Harry giving me a small wave as I drive away, his figure disappearing in my rear view mirror.

The encounter with him has left me feeling giddy and excited. Not only was he thoughtful towards me, but also just thoroughly romantic the entire time. I wasn't expecting Harry to ever become a client, but god, I'll look forward to the next time that I see him.

Later on, I decide to head to a bar near my house, just wanting to get a couple of drinks in my system for the night. I'm definitely not interested in anybody soliciting me since it's my day off, and I'm hoping nobody does.

I'm perched on a barstool, ordering myself a drink by only saying the names of the alcohols since I don't know how to make it more complex of a request. I've had to acquire the taste of neat tequila and vodka, which now I don't mind. The buzz comes on fast and it doesn't require me to know any Spanish of any kind.

A man sits beside me, saying something in Spanish to which I ignore, pretending as if he's not talking to me.

Then, in perfect English, he says, "No Spanish then, huh?"

With surprise and shock fixed onto my face, I turn to look at the man beside me. He has tanned skin and soft brown eyes with a dashing smile that sports a black mustache above it. His hair is also a slightly shaggy, shiny black that is flipped to the middle of his forehead. He's truly very attractive, but I really wanted to take the night off.

"No," I laugh slightly. "Hardly any."

The man chuckles as he sips his drink, a lit cigarette in the other hand. "Then what are you doing in a Spanish-speaking country?"

I wiggle in my seat, not wanting to give him any information about myself. "I could ask the same thing about you. You don't sound like you're from here."

"I'm not," he beams. "I was born in Chile, but then moved to America shortly after."

"And what are you doing in Colombia?" I ask with my head propped up on my hand.

"Vacation. I'm here with a few friends."

My head turns around to scan the bar. "Are they here now?"

"No, they're at their hotels with their wives."

"And you don't have a wife?" I laugh.

"No. It's hard to with my job."

My brows raise. "Oh, yeah? And what exactly is your job?"

"Would you be impressed if I told you I'm a pilot?" he chuckles with an arched black brow.

"Very," I giggle, "but only if that's the truth."

"And why would I lie?" he asks as he leans in, his voice low.

"Fine, Mr. Pilot. You wouldn't mind paying for my drinks then, would you?"

"Not in the slightest."

I giggle, shaking his hand as I stand off my barstool. "Then you have a good night."

With a victorious smile on my face, I leave the bar, making my way back to my apartment that isn't too far away. I thought it'd be better to walk rather than drive in case I drink too much, which in this case I haven't. Maybe a little tipsy, sure, but not enough to be impaired while driving.

There's a brief moment where I think I hear someone behind me, but I turn and nobody is there, making me shrug it off. I come up to the next alleyway, instinctively turning to look down it to find it empty. Perhaps it's the alcohol or the unsettled feeling that nighttime gives me, but I can't help but feel like I'm being followed.

I make it back to my apartment safely, climbing up the stairs in the building with groans of disapproval, my feet aching from my heels. At my door, I push the key in, being greeted by my shitty apartment that still somehow envelops me with a sense of comfort.

Even though it's a rather run-down section of town, and a less than adequate building, I still feel the most at ease here.

My tight dress slides off my body with a gentle tug, slipping on a nightgown before I tuck myself into bed. My mind flicks back to Harry being thrust inside of me, and his beautiful face twisted with pleasure. It causes me to clench around nothing just from the memory of him, and I know that he's going to be my new addiction.

As I shut my eyes, there's a knock on my apartment door to which I groan. Who the hell is here this late at night? With a wobbly, tired and tipsy walk to my front door, I pull it open, a man bursting inside suddenly.

"What the fuck?" I ask, watching as I can now make out the man to be one of my father's associates, José. "What are you doing here?"

"We were raided," he says with his back turned to me, holding several keys of cocaine in his arms. "I'm hiding this here."

"What? No the fuck you're not!" I shout.

José pulls his gun out and draws it on me, making my hands fly up immediately. "How about you shut your stupid bitch mouth and listen to me?"

"I'm gonna tell my dad—"

He scoffs, stuffing the cocaine beneath my couch cushions. "Who do you think cleared me to come here? Ever think that maybe your dad just doesn't give a shit about you?"

My emotions are once again held at bay. Why the fuck can't I cry?

"Just please hurry up and get out."

He finishes hiding the rest of the powder, finally lowering his gun. "You're lucky I don't fuck you right here for being such a bitch."

I swallow, my eyes staying on the floor as I decide to not answer him.

"Don't act like you wouldn't love it," he laughs. "It's your job to be a whore." José gives me a rough smack across my face, making me fall to the floor as I grip it. "Be happy that's all I'm doing before I leave." He slams my apartment door.

For a bit after he leaves, I'm sat against my living room wall gripping my cheek that throbs with a stinging pain. This isn't a feeling I'm unfamiliar with. The burn in my face only reminds me that I really am worthless here, and nothing more than a prostitute with no life worth living.

****

#pedro pascal smut #javier pena #pedro pascal fic #smut #yn fanfic #pedro pascal #narcos #javier pena smut #narcos smut

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ambrosialdesire · 2 years ago

Text

cacoëthes

[ PART ONE ] [ PART TWO ] [ PART THREE ]

18+ DARK CONTENT BELOW, MINORS + BLANK BLOGS DNI

pairing: s4 reiner x fem!reader word count: 14.3k warnings + tags: general yandere and obsessive themes, unhealthy relationships, kidnapping mention, gore/violence, minor character death, drugging mention (sleeping pills), slight misogyny, slight stockholm syndrome, vomit mention (nonsexual), noncon/dubcon, sexual implications, mention of male masturbation, a dash of porco x reader, somnophilia (but the reader is awake and pretending to be asleep), dry-humping kinda, virginity mention, kinda aot spoilers if you haven't watched it before, all characters are 18+ synopsis: it's been three years since reiner had taken you away to marley and you've been getting used to the brand new world since then. you have a good husband, his family tolerates you, and his fellow warriors are somewhat decent people. what he doesn't know is that everything was coming to an end, three years of planning an escape won't go to waste of course. a/n: this shit took me forever idk why i decided to make it this long lol this is fr a passion project at this point (i want reiner so bad) but anyways i hope y'all enjoy this, there's one more part after this and it's gonna contain ALL the dirty bits >:) note: please keep in mind of the tags above and do not proceed if triggering or uncomfortable, especially if you are a minor!! do not read my or any other writers' dark content if you are underaged. this is a fictional work and does not reflect irl morals, do not believe this is how a real romance works or functions.

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Drowning was certainly an odd feeling. You were on the teetering edge of consciousness and unconsciousness, but it was definite that you were unable to completely open your eyes. It was disgustingly warm and humid, but a sudden spike of cold hit your moistened skin as you were getting pulled out of something.

Someone was pushing on your chest rapidly, muffled begging echoing in your eardrums. A few more sturdy pumps on your chest and you turned your head suddenly, throwing up any liquid that remained in your lungs and shooting up roughly coughing. You... you weren't dead? But you swore that you were just eaten by Bertolt.

You continued to cough to clear out the remnants of whatever you were in but began to observe your surroundings at the same time. Your blurred eyes first latched on the one who cleared your lungs, the person having a relieved but worried smile on his face. Your vision suddenly cleared in a furious rage.

"You fucker!"

Throwing yourself on the black haired man, your hands wrapped around his throat angrily and squeezed down as hard as you possibly could. The deep slice that Mikasa had once made was long gone and you wished that she had managed to slice his head clean off. He gagged under your hands, weakly trying to pull them off. You were only stopped as another man harshly told you to knock it off and pulled at the back of your shirt away from Bertolt, seeing him gasp for air and hold his neck.

"Don't fucking touch me Braun." You hissed, slapping the newly replaced hand off of you. You didn't want him to ever touch you ever again, the mere thought disgusting you.

"Y/N-"

"I don't want to hear it, not from two rats like you and you."

You took more observations with the environment, seeing that they ended up at the forest that the Female Titan had taken many lives in. Eren and Ymir were here too, passed out on another branch of the large tree. Eren's arms were cut off from the elbow, and Ymir's arm and leg were still regenerating slowly. Cruel pieces of shit.

"Be grateful that Bertolt managed to not dissolve you in his mouth, otherwise you'd be digesting in his stomach by now." He was talking to you peacefully as if this was all normal and nothing happened, but all you wanted to do was stab his goddamn heart out.

"Grateful? Grateful?!" You scornfully laughed aloud, an angry expression still worn. "I'd rather be a meal by now than talking to you."

Your hand reached over where your sword should've been but there was nothing there, being swallowed whole by Bertolt must've crushed up your gear or maybe the stomach acid destroyed them. Weird that it didn't kill you but it was most definitely frustrating that you had nothing to defend yourself. You reared him in the stomach with your elbow, turning around to face him as you attempted to punch his face. But he grabbed your hand before you could throw one, pushing you down onto the branch and pinning you back down.

"I told you Reiner, she'd be too much trouble to take back home." Bertolt fretted as he ran a hand through his short hair. You stopped struggling under the man, looking at the other with confusion.

"...What did you say?"

"I'm taking you back to our homeland, you and those two." Was he delusional, he had to be delusional.

"This is the only place that humanity remains, are you telling me you're taking me to a land where Titans live?!" You screeched and Reiner covered your mouth with his free hand, shutting you up. You bit down on his hand but he didn't move away, only pressing down harder until you stopped. Dull teeth were never going to be able to tear through a monster's skin.

"You're being unreasonable, it's a continent across the sea called Marley. Bertolt, Annie, and I came from there, our mission was to retrieve the Founding Titan from Paradis Island. It's been years since we left our home and now we can finally leave. Shame we weren't able to retrieve what we actually came for." He grumbled the last part but you were horrified with what he had just revealed. He and Bertolt lied about their backstory, they never lived in Wall Maria; they decimated it. They destroyed your life. Destroyed other peoples' lives.

But you were even more confused, you weren't a Titan shifter like them so why did he want to bring you along?

You tried to speak under his hand, only for it to be muffled, so he released his hold from your mouth.

"Why... Why bring me? I don't have any Titan form like the lot of you."

Reiner smiled down at you, the kind where it held such excitement that you wanted to puke.

"I decided that we were going to get married in Marley. You'll be my wife, but it's going to be a difficult process trying to have a Paradisian Eldian apply for citizenship."

"You're insane!" You shrieked, gaping with dread. No way in hell were you going to marry this crazy Titan guy, not after you found out that he was in cahoots with the other that fucked up your life.

"You're fucking insane if you think I'll marry you!"

You started to struggle underneath him, panic setting in again. This was your home, your only home in the world. No matter where Reiner would take you, it would never be a home of yours. Was that why he asked that question way back then?

"Hoover, you can't let him do this! Why are you enabling him when I have no use to you?!" You cried out to the man in vain, his gaze avoiding yours completely. Reiner shot a glare at his friend as he struggled to keep you apprehended under him. Cowardly fuck.

Through the haze of your alarmed anger, Bertolt mentioned to his partner-in-crime that he should knock you out again so you'd stop screaming so much.

Oh, so now he wants to talk. You were about to reply with a snarky response but deft fingers pinched a part of your neck, and you fell silent, falling asleep once more.

"Why'd you have to choose the one who's giving us too much of a fight Reiner?" Bertolt sighed and the man promptly ignored him, lifting you up gently to tie your hands together and to wrap your mouth with a cloth.

"Once we reach the Shiganshina District and meet up with Zeke, that's where we'll drop off Y/N so she won't be a part of the fight anymore."

"Will we be able to reach there on time? The Corps must be after us already and we still have to get Annie." Reiner set you down gently and patted his friend on the back.

"Don't worry, once we reach him and discuss what we can do to get her back, you can finally confess to her."

"Reiner!"

'•.¸♡ ♡¸.•''•.¸♡ ♡¸.•''•.¸♡ ♡¸.•'

You didn't know how long you were out for, fading in and out of consciousness yet again. Whatever they did to you, it kept you well asleep for a while. You do remember faint glimpses, from being hoisted on this four-legged Titan's back to being medically treated by strangers. You faintly felt their fingers poke and prod at you, like you were some kind of unknown specimen, a new species. Yet the one thing you couldn't remember was that you never saw Reiner or Bertolt, no they weren't there for as long as you slept.

Maybe it was a dream, all of this. You were sleeping in the Corps dorms, the girls had forgotten to wake you up for today's duties, and you'd soon get scolded by the short captain and being told to mop the floor till it's squeaky clean. Everything was fine. As fine as it could get in this world.

Drowsiness was the first thing that hit you. You noticed that it was nighttime, dim lantern light being the only source that lit up the room... a metal room?

In confusion, you sat up. There was a circular window on one of the sides of the wall and you walked up to it, wobbling from unsteadiness and exhaustion. When you looked out, there was nothing but a dark and unwelcoming emptiness.

A large iron door with its own window was on the other side of the room and you took a few steps towards it, pulling the knob down and opening it. It groaned open and you examined the outside, checking both sides of the hallway. More cold metal encased everything that you saw, where in the world were you right now?

Heavy footsteps clanged towards you and you panicked, closing the door quickly and jumping back in bed, pretending that you were still asleep. The familiar groaning was heard, the steps quieter and slower as they approached you. You had half the mind to jump and attack the person that entered, but a reasonable part of you told you not to do it.

"Y/N?" Well look who arrived, your new worst enemy.

As much as you didn't want to see him, you turned your body towards him anyway. Relief flooded in his expression and he reached over to caress your face. You avoid it completely, pushing him away with your hand. You asked softly with a firm tone, "Where are we?"

"You probably don't know this kind of advanced machinery, but we're on a boat back to Marley." Ah, so the scouts weren't able to retrieve you. What unfortunate and devastating information you've learned. Tears began to well up but you brushed those sad thoughts aside, they probably thought you were already dead from when Bertolt grabbed you on top of the wall.

"Eren and Ymir?"

"Eren was taken back, we weren't able to retrieve him unfortunately. Ymir's here though, she went with us with no complaints." Was he just saying that or was she also forced on board? And how lucky Eren was to be saved once again by the scouts and his friends. So. Damn. Lucky.

"...Hoover?"

"Dead." Goosebumps rose up on your skin, wasn't he the Colossal Titan? They... they finally managed to kill that fifty meter fucker?

"How?"

"Eren and Armin are quite the clever ones, Armin now has the Colossal's power because of their plan." What did that mean? You wanted to ask but his face was twisted in a vague, hidden pain.

You decided to stop asking questions for his sake and the two of you were silent, the only movements he made were him sitting down on the edge of the bed. Remembering back to what he said in the forest, you stupidly decided to bring it up.

"I don't want to be your wife." You whispered in a shaky tone, clenching the blanket in a tight fist.

"You'll learn to accept it for what it is. You'll like it there, no over-the-top walls and you'll be able to meet my mother. She'll disagree with our relationship at first, but she'll learn to like you, I prom-"

You shook your head, frustrated that he wasn't listening to you again. Trying to deescalate the situation, you attempted to talk him out of it.

"Braun, you're not in the right state of mind. You were my friend, a brother. I never wanted to date or marry you, especially now that I know who you really are. I'm sorry."

Reiner was quiet, deathly still kind of quiet. If he wasn't mentally unhinged before, he could definitely now be.

"Don't test me Y/N. I have all the patience in the world for you, but right now, there's not a single soul here that will save you for what I could do to you. And there are many things I want to do to you."

He reached over to you and you flinched, terrified that he was about to strike you after knowing what kind of strength he possessed. Yet no sharp pain came nor a broken jaw, just gentle rubs against your cheek were administered instead. You peeked through your closed eyes, only seeing a twisted, infatuated look directed towards you. An idea popped in your head, you'd use him in order to escape.

You'll be able to find your way back home one way or another eventually, but for now, you'd play the part Reiner wants from you. His loving and doting wife.

You tilted your face closer to his touch, even pressing his hand closer to your cheek with your own. You watched him smile happily and lean close to you, warmth spreading across your skin. The two of you shared a stare, your heart beating wildly in your ribcage.

Reiner pulled you close to him and gave you a soft kiss on your forehead. You wanted to cringe away from him, wanted to uppercut him right in the jaw. But you had to hide your hate, it's the only way you'll manage to get out.

"See? That wasn't so bad, was it?" He asked, voice completely over the moon.

"We'll take our time, I'll wait until you're ready."

"Yeah okay... that sounds like a plan."

'•.¸♡ ♡¸.•''•.¸♡ ♡¸.•''•.¸♡ ♡¸.•'

You stayed in a prison room for weeks. To be completely honest, you stopped counting once you reached around the sixteenth day. When the boat boarded Marley, you and Reiner were surrounded by Marleyan militia that moved the both of you into a containment area.

Those hate-filled looks from these foreign people, you couldn't understand what you did to make them look at you like that.

You were just like them... right?

You saw a glimpse of Ymir being shoved out with her hands and mouth wrapped, and you were happy to see another familiar face. But that happiness did not last long as she was moved into a different building from yours, giving you a pitiful and sorrowful look. In your heart, you knew it would be the last time you'd see the girl. Poor, poor Historia...

Reiner told you that you'd be staying in the cell until your citizenship and marriage certification were approved, but he'd visit you everyday and teach you the language and history between Marley and Eldia. You somewhat appreciated that he was willing to take the time to actually help you learn. His naiveness only made it easier for you to escape this place faster.

Along with him teaching you, he began telling you his real life. The real story of Reiner Braun, the Marley warrior and not the Paradis soldier. He was a product of a Marleyan-blooded father and an Eldian-blooded mother, dedicating himself as a child to become a warrior so his father would come back and his family would finally be whole again. But he rejected him, never seeing him as his son due to his Eldian lineage. You felt just a smidge of sympathy for him as he spoke about it, even if your own family was long gone because of him, everyone was still loved equally.

After he was chosen to become the Armored Titan, four out of six warriors were told to go to Paradis in order to retrieve the Founding Titan. Marcel, the user that had the Jaw Titan, was unfortunately eaten by Ymir; you were shocked to find out that is how one became a Titan Shifter, hearing the morbid truth behind the shifting. Despite losing one of their members, they still continued with their operation.

That was the start of everything, from the death of your family to you joining the training corps years later to you sparring him to now. He rambled on and on about you, telling you things that made your gut negatively twist. How he has been watching you after the training spar to how he collected your flower rings as memorabilia, all these things before you truly befriended this monster.

Reiner says he has been deeply in love with you since then but the way you saw it, he was just a mad man that was using you as an anchor for his own sanity.

He didn't love you.

You were just a toy, the closest person he could attach to after losing everyone in Paradis. You were unknowingly keeping him level through the years. Fear was slowly seeping in as you would not know how he would react if he knew your plans for escaping.

He mustn't know a single peep of your escape, not a single word.

'•.¸♡ ♡¸.•''•.¸♡ ♡¸.•''•.¸♡ ♡¸.•'

It's been roughly three years since you've been taken from Paradis Island.

You have become well-acquainted to what Marley has to offer, despite living in the internment zone of Liberio and wearing an armband that symbolizes your supposed "devil" lineage. It was a decently peaceful life, you were able to do things that you didn't normally do in Paradis like go shopping for groceries and clothing; you were able to walk down streets without worrying if a Titan was nearby or about to bust through the wall.

It was similar to life back home, just more advanced technologically. You were shocked to learn what planes and cars were, accidentally clinging on Reiner's arm when a few flew overhead and some drove by. But the biggest glaring difference for you though was that a nearly fifty meter wall never blocked your sight as you stared into the skies.

Reiner had you meet the other warriors and his family over the years, they were the ones you were mostly allowed to speak to. They were a struggle to win over, it always hurt being called names and being threatened at. Eventually they had no choice but accept you as his wife, seeing how kind you treated him and how despite them constantly berating you, you never gave up nor frowned at their cruel treatment.

Truth be told, you could care less if they liked you but it was important to him to have you get along with them. He cared a lot about family, which you can understand well.

With the warriors, you preferred chatting with Pieck out of the lot of them. Zeke was too intimidating to speak to and it always felt that he was scheming something, and Porco didn't really like talking to you in general, most likely because you came from enemy lines. So Pieck was pretty much a neutral option as she didn't really look at you all that differently like many people do in this nation. You found out that she was the four-legged Titan — Cart Titan, as they liked to call it — that transported you to the boat, a small kindness but also a duty she was set to fulfill for the other warrior.

"You're one of us now." She once mentioned in a hushed tone.

"Are you saying that to make me feel better about my situation?" You questioned as you folded a sheet over your legs, glancing at the woman standing next to you.

"Hm... perhaps I am but we're all people simply trying to survive in the end, right?" Pieck ruffled your hair gently, soon walking away to find Porco. That made you think more than you should have, so you tried to avoid conversations about being Eldian or being from Paradis.

To the more serious issues, your marriage with Reiner has been... upsettingly decent. The act of trying to be a perfect wife had slipped unfortunately, there were many impatient attempts of trying to kill him but you knew all too well afterwards that those were for naught. So you put your murderous intentions on pause temporarily, waiting and waiting for the right moment.

To your luck, he never really put any pressure or punishment on you, mostly because he was gone most of the time fighting small wars in various parts of Marley. You were happy that he was gone so often for so long and trusted you enough to give you the freedom of going out, it gave you time to continue planning. You were able to take and hide money right under his nose and you bought a diary, writing your scheme down so you wouldn't forget; you decided to vent your thoughts as well since no one in Liberio was able to understand what you were going through.

You hid these items in a shoebox in the closet, pushing it to the back to ensure that he wouldn't catch it at a first glance. He never really dug in there anyways, you've noted.

On most occasions, you find yourself praying to some God for him to die in one of those fights but every time, he comes back completely fine. It's always a punch in the gut when you open the door and see him beaming down towards you. You force yourself to grin and greet him with a kiss, just as he taught you to. The few days he was here, he'd be extremely affectionate, demanding that you'd be next to his side at all times before he goes again. You learned not to flinch or cringe away from his kisses, even now that they're more directed to your lips.

Sometimes the kisses would grow into something more. He'd pull you into his lap or push you against the wall, his kisses becoming more needier as he planted one after another on your lips. Reiner's hips would meet yours, bodies too hot under the fabric. You'd catch yourself trying to remove his beige uniform coat and white button-up while his hands roamed around your body, desperately attempting to remove yours.

Realizing what was about to happen, you'd push him or yourself off, darting towards the bathroom in a dazed shock. Reiner never stopped you once from leaving — maybe held onto your hand for too long once — but this had to stop.

You shouldn't let yourself get too attached, you didn't need it to hurt when you were going to leave Marley. Why were you even trying to delude yourself into being romantically involved with him in the first place? Sure, it would be a more convincing façade but that fact was that it simply disgusted you to imagine him touching more than what you're used to.

You used to fight him so much, from not wanting to sleep in the same bed to him having to catch the kitchen knife with his hand to prevent you from stabbing him while you were making dinner. But that fight you had was almost completely eradicated, it just took some harsh threats and a near transformation for you to comply. Even though you were a perfect complacent wife, Reiner wanted a family, a complete one that he had always dreamed of coming home to.

He knew you were avoiding the topic of children, he had always known for the three years he's been married to you. He wanted to respect you and your boundaries, but he just keeps getting more riled up the more you avoid him. The intense make-out sessions with nothing afterwards hurt and he could definitely tell that you keep stopping yourself from just letting loose with him.

But fuck, it's becoming an increasingly difficult task containing himself from just taking you right then and there. On the days he was away from you, Reiner had constant thoughts about you. Thoughts containing where he imagined you sucking his cock, images of you spreading your pussy lips open for him so he could pleasure the hell out of you, or vivid ideations where you'd let him pound and cum so deeply in you that you'd be leaking out for days.

They were especially embarrassing for him when they came late at night when they're traveling on the blimps to the next destination. Reiner would have to shuffle awkwardly to the back or 'roam' into a hidden room where no one saw him go into, completely hard from a simple conception. He'd unzip and pull his white pants all the way down so his cum wouldn't stain the material, and jerk his cock off until he felt satiated enough. You were killing him from keeping him away from what he wants the most out of you.

When he comes back to Liberio to see you, he has to force himself from not trying to rip off your clothes the moment you open the door. You'd always give him a small peck as a greeting but he wants more, he has always wanted more.

You'd swat him away after, telling him that he should freshen up before dinner as you walked back to the kitchen, hips swaying side to side. Were you doing that on purpose or was he that deprived from not having sex with you? You goddamn tease.

Thus on the receiving end, Reiner has been struggling sexually since his marriage to you.

He'd bring it up on occasion, small mentions of having little ones run around or how happy he'd be seeing miniature versions of the two of you. Yet, you'd always avert the conversation to something else, asking about when he'd be going away again and if he'd visit the family soon because Gabi has been asking to see him. You've always focused on him so in return, he wanted to treat you out to somewhere nice before asking the big question about children.

'•.¸♡ ♡¸.•''•.¸♡ ♡¸.•''•.¸♡ ♡¸.•'

Knock, knock.

You looked up from the stew you were making, lowering the heat and wiping off your hands before opening the door. Low and behold, your dear husband had returned from the latest mission, leaning down for you to press a quick kiss on his lips.

"Reiner. You're back early."

"Finished up pretty quickly, Zeke was able to take out the opposing side with Pure Titans with no further issues." Reiner pushed the hair away from your eyes and smiled, planting another kiss on your forehead. He pulled away and took a glance into the kitchen, sniffing the air before squinting.

"Cooking something?"

"Your mom taught me a recipe yesterday, she said that it's something that you used to like eating when you were young. She told me to make it before you came home so I was trying it out." You shrugged as you closed the door, striding back over to the stove. He followed after you, watching you closely. Reiner had to keep an eye on you just in case you didn't poison the food, which you weren't able to because his body rejected it, throwing it up before it was completely in his system.

You didn't know how he was able to do it, maybe it had something to do with his stupid Titan shifting, but you never did it again. Not after he almost transformed in front of you, the angry and electrifying glint in his eyes was indubitably unforgettable.

"Go clean yourself up, it's almost ready."

"I didn't transform this week though Y/N. I shouldn't be smelling like blood." He frowned, his arms slithering around your waist and pulling you close to his body. Here he was being touchy again.

"You still smell gross, you were around your sweaty comrades for a week. And you know how I know what that smells like." Grumbling that he was going to get you dirty, you pulled his arms off of you, continuing to stir the stew. Reiner simply laughed at you, kissing the side of your head and mumbling a soft love you before walking upstairs to bathe. You were about to yell at him to use the scented soap that you recently bought in the shop but paused, hand over your mouth.

You sounded like a loving wife, an actual loving wife.

The two of you shared this kind of banter rather than you constantly trying to find ways to kill him before you left. It was becoming too... normal for your liking. It wasn't supposed to be like this, he was your kidnapper and a mass murderer, but it didn't seem that way anymore. No, the two of you were seen as the couple that are constantly at odds with each other, but still loved each other regardless.

A Marleyan who fell in love with a Paradisian. A Paradisian who fell in love with a Marleyan. The perfect forbidden romance.

The next time Reiner would leave for war, you had to go back to Paradis. No more hesitating and scheming. You stole and saved up enough money to pay off the man who promised to take you to the island with no questions asked, you'd finally be able to go home. If Eren was still there and still alive, he must've figured out how to patch the holes by now. You'd prefer living in the walls hiding away from Titans than living this kind of life, this life of faulty freedom.

You poured a couple of spoonfuls of stew in a bowl, trying to even out the meat and vegetables. Heavy footsteps creaked the wood above you, the sound following down the stairs. Reiner was dressed in a dark green long-sleeve, the color similar to way back in the cadet training days. You looked away, shutting your eyes tight; to you, those days were long gone. Placing the bowl down in front of him and settling down in the seat opposite, you began to eat.

"I want to take you into the city later this month." You paused before putting the spoon in your mouth and looked up, your head tilting to the side.

"Outside of the internment zone?" Reiner nodded, blowing on a piece of meat. You rarely went there without him, even if you were considered a Marleyan with your armband. The people stared too intensely at you for your own liking, sometimes spitting vile things loudly or under their breaths, so you only went with your husband or Pieck if she was available.

"What are we going to do there? Is there something important that is needed of me?" You questioned and he laughed softly, nodding his head.

"Of course it has something to do with you. We're going on a date." Dates were rare between the two of you as he never stayed long and you were left alone to your own devices. It was a request of Reiner to be able to see you for short periods of time, you didn't know if it was because he was making sure you haven't run off or that he genuinely wanted to check on you. He mentioned that he would be off until he would be called in for the next fight, so he wanted to devote all his time with you.

"You don't have anything to do with the militia or your family?"

"Not really, no orders for now. And we have all the time in the world to visit them, don't you worry." He wiped his mouth before standing up, picking up your empty bowl and kissing your head once more.

Tolerate it, you can tolerate it.

"It's a nice restaurant that I heard the higher ups talk about, they accept Marley-approved Eldians as well so we won't get stared at. I know how much you don't like the stares."

You just hummed in reply. You sat watching him clean the bowls, leaning on the table with your arm. Reiner definitely changed physically the past few years, his body becoming noticeably bulkier under his clothes and stubble had grown in; though you hated him with every inch of your skin, you had to admit that the more mature look on him was fitting.

You haven't changed much, your hair may have grown longer since there was no need to cut it short anymore and you must've gained a little bit more weight due to the constant cooking. But your feelings have still stayed the same, complete and utter resentment for the man you were forced to wed to.

"I'm going to bed."

"I'll be joining you soon."

You had to check if the box and diary was still there, making sure that the money was the exact amount as well. You picked up your pencil and started quickly jotting down your thoughts for today.

Reiner has come home early today, I was caught off guard. This might be the last time I write in this as I finally reached my goal to pay off that man. I'll be able to go home when he leaves for war again.

Would they remember me? I would be considered a ghost because of Bertolt. I'll tell them everything that happened here if they haven't figured it out yet, that there's humanity beyond the walls and they're the reason why we suffered for so long behind them.

If I leave this behind and if you, Reiner, find this when I'm long gone, know that I've always hated you. I've always been sickened by your touch and your kisses, I never meant any of those I love yous, and I've always wished you died horribly during the times you went off to those battles. I wanted to receive a letter or be told personally that you were killed in action, shot down by the cannons that were able to pierce through your armor. I'd weep, not of sadness but of joy because I would be finally be free from your clutches. Whatever you thought you taught me in order to be your perfect spouse, I was playing a role in order to survive this insanity of yours.

The creaks of the floorboards were starting to grow closer and you panicked, writing down your last words.

I never loved you and I never will. Don't try to go back to Paradis to find me. You would have to bring back my dead body in order to bring me back to Marley.

Hastily closing the diary, you stashed it back in the box and shoved it back in. As you stood up, you started to pretend to change your clothes, trying to unbutton your shirt. The door soon opened, back towards him as he stepped closer. He reached over and tugged at your hand, pulling it until you faced him and wrapped his arms around your waist securely, hoisting you up. You steadied yourself as you placed your hands on his chest, your heart ached dully as he tenderly gazed upon you.

"I love you."

You bit down on your tongue before putting on the kindest smile possible.

"I love you too."

'•.¸♡ ♡¸.•''•.¸♡ ♡¸.•''•.¸♡ ♡¸.•'

"Good afternoon Ms. Braun." You bowed your head respectively towards the woman, arm linked with Reiner's. Usually after he comes home, the two of you would visit his family and celebrate the success of the Marleyan forces. It wasn't really a choice in the matter, they were happy that he was alive and you weren't.

"Oh Y/N, you know you can call me Karina now. We're both Brauns, aren't we?" She grabbed your hand and patted it gently, a small smile on her face.

"Right. My apologies." The two of you walked in the home, a small body suddenly colliding into his.

His cousin, Gabi, was hugging him tightly with a beaming grin. She was a fireball of a child, her fiery personality reminding you of a particular someone back home. She was the only member in the Braun family that still didn't really like you, even stating it aloud a few times, but you didn't mind. Though her words cut deep, it proved that someone in this family knew that you didn't belong here.

The two were talking to each other, something about the warrior campaign, but you didn't care and excused yourself into the kitchen. When you came to celebrate, you usually helped Reiner's mother with the food while he spoke with his other family. She welcomed you in, explaining what dishes to help prepare and what to set up in the dining room. This was like clockwork, it has been ever since you've been here.

"My son has been speaking to me about something important," Karina spoke as the two of you cut vegetables together, placing them into a bowl. "He says that the two of you are planning to have children soon."

Your blood ran cold, pausing your chopping. No way in hell were you keen on bearing his children, not now and not ever. But you simply laughed, as if it was a funny little joke.

"Reiner said that? I told him that we weren't ready, especially with his work right now."

"Oh, but it's been over 3 years now. I'd expected to have a few grandchildren by now, especially with how he coddles you."

There were one too many occurrences where the two of you were awfully close to laying in bed with one another, your face suddenly burning up as you reminisced on those moments. You would never give him yourself like that though, you'd never give him what he wants.

"I'm just worried that our children would be raised without their loving father."

Karina's face softened as she put down the knife, wiping her hands.

"You're a good woman Y/N. I would like to apologize for treating you differently because you came from the island devils. After all, they are the reason why we Eldians here are treated like this." There goes that Paradis Island Eldian talk again, but you did somewhat appreciate the half-assed apology.

"Thank you... Karina. I know it must have been difficult trying to accept me into your family because of my origins, I apologize for the trouble I gave you." No, you didn't feel sorry at all but it was better to suck it up than to start a scene where you could end up possibly dead. The two of you continued to cook for the others, making light conversation with one another about recipes and how each other's weeks were.

Reiner leaned on the doorway, watching you hard at work with his mother. You've always looked so pretty when you were focused, pulling your hair back with a cloth before you began to knead the dough. You were going to wash your flour-covered hands before you bumped into his chest, his hand resting on the small of your back before you could pull away.

"Working hard, aren't you my lovely wife?" You've always hated when he called you affectionate names because of the way it made your stomach flip.

"You're going to get your shirt dirty Reiner, flour is hard to clean once it gets on your clothes." Ignoring him, you tried pulling away from him but his hand would not budge, the grip only tightening. You mumbled to let go so you could wash up but no dice.

"I've been dirtied with worse. Maybe if you give me a kiss, I'll let you go." It was always awkward kissing in front of his family, you've never had gotten used to that part and you never will. You tip-toed and quickly gave a peck on his lips, but he made no moves, only wearing a small smirk. Fucker.

You tip-toed once more and pulled his face with your dirtied hands, pressing your lips much more deeply into his. As you pulled away with an irritated expression, you asked him one question.

"Happy?"

Reiner licked his lips, smugly grinning as he wiped the flour off his cheeks.

"One more and I'll consider."

"Go fuck yourself." You hissed quietly, finally giving one large shove and he finally released you. He laughed, murmuring a small apology as he pressed his lips on your forehead. His mother reprimanded him, telling him he shouldn't disturb a lady while she is cooking. As she continued to scold him, you were scrubbing the muck off your hands.

Happy couple on the outside, kidnapper and kidnappee on the inside.

Dinner was fine as it usually was, the men got drunk and the women were left to clean up after them. Gabi asked him to tell the family stories of his time on the island and he made up a tall tale about Sasha and the first orientation of the 104th Training Corps. The infamous event of the uneven split potato between her and Commander Shadis, getting reminded of the story made you even more homesick than ever. Even more reason to see your friends again.

You waved a goodbye to the family as you held Reiner's body up, trying to prevent him from falling from his drunken stupor. It would be quite nice if you could just let him fall flat on the ground and leave him there until morning came, but you didn't want to face his wrath about it.

He was luckily a quiet drunk, mumbling incoherently as you walked through the streets with him, exhaling angrily as you stumbled around. You were so close to just letting him sleep on the street until your name was called, your head turning and seeing a familiar face.

"Galliard?"

"Jeez, I've been calling for you. You turning deaf or what?" The brashness of his words made you huff in response and he helped you hold up the taller man, shaking his head disapprovingly. Out of everyone in the nation that you knew, Porco was the one you least wanted to bump into for assistance. He and Reiner didn't get along that well, he mentioned once to you that they had some tension in their childhood.

"An easy win and the idiot gets this drunk, can't imagine what he's like when we win harder battles."

"On those days, we have to sleep over at his mother's and those mornings are the absolute worst." Porco snorted, adjusting his arm as the two of you walked together.

"Tell me about it, he's barely keeping himself upright. What's he thinking making you carry him home?"

You shrugged, lightly chuckling. "I've carried heavier, it's just been a while."

"You were an island devil soldier right?" There's that name again but you nodded in response.

"You're so frail-looking for a soldier, it's a miracle you passed as one."

You shot a glare at him, stopping in your stride. "What? Me? Frail?"

"You sure are. You're only a housewife for Vice Captain Reiner Braun, you only serve to warm his bed and cook his food. You? A soldier? What a joke." Your nails dug into the skin of your palm, hard enough that you were sure it drew blood.

That was the cruel reality of your situation, you were no longer a soldier. Just a war wife. He was right, you were a complete and utter joke of the person that you once were.

"Spar me then."

"What?" It felt like Reiner was no longer in the vicinity, all you wanted was to prove Porco wrong. You weren't frail, you were a goddamn Survey Corps soldier.

"Spar me goddammit, I won't repeat it. And don't bother holding back."

You pulled Reiner to a bench, almost shoving his body in the seat before facing the other man. There was an unsure look on his face but all the frustration and anger that was built up over the years was about to blow up out of you, and you put your fists up in your familiar defensive position.

Three whole years you haven't touched up nor sharpened your skills but at this moment, it didn’t matter. You were tired, exhausted from being looked down upon constantly. You were sick of Marleyan and Eldian talk and you were sick of Porco's ego right now.

"What? Don't tell me you're scared of getting defeated by an island devil? Or are you scared of losing to a woman?" You taunted, his face going from shock to an angry scowl.

A burst of energy flowed through your body as he ran at you, a jab targeted towards your face. You couldn't let your timing be off, you needed the advantage as much as possible. Quickly, you intertwined his arm with yours and swiped at his legs, effectively making him fall away from you. He landed on his back, sputtering out the remnants of air in his lungs.

You could give your blessings to Annie and Commander Shadis another time. Adrenaline rushed through your veins as you slammed him down on the ground, teeth bared as you straddled onto his stomach.

"I do not give a damn if you continue to think I'm the devil of your people. I'm fed up with being thought of as weak by assholes like you." Porco tried pulling his arm away but you gripped onto him harder, eyes lit ablaze. You socked him right in the nose, knuckles white from gripping your fist so tightly. It hurt — fuck — everything hurt right now.

He used his free hand to hold your wrist and you struggled to break the hold, pulling and tugging in every direction wildly. His nose was bleeding, red trails slipping down the side of his face. Slight steam began to arise from the site, just barely blurring your vision.

"I'm tired, I'm so fucking tired. You have absolutely no clue what it's like to have everything stolen away from you! To be taken away from everything and everyone that you know!" You lamented in frustration, continuing to try and shake out of his hold.

The wild anger you once had faltered into sadness, tears welling up as your grip loosened, fist falling at your side. Your moment of weakness caused him to immediately flip you over, your positions both switched as he pinned your wrist down while the other was raised up, ready to strike down. Before he swung down, you closed your eyes, clenching your jaw as you awaited for the contact.

Yet nothing came.

As you opened your tear-blurred eyes, his knuckles were mere centimeters away from your face before he pulled it away. The two of you breathed heavily on the dirty cobble road, intensely gazing at each other. The blood from his bruised and probably broken nose was smeared above his upper lip and the side of his cheek. His usually combed back hair was all messy, light brown strands falling on his forehead. To be honest, it looked nicer that way...

You blinked and felt tears drop down the side of your face, an exasperated laugh coming out.

"I'm sorry Galliard, I must be going insane..." Porco's hands released you, letting you wipe the tears off your face as he lifted his weight off of you.

"What's the truth behind you two? Three years ago, Reiner says that you couldn't bear parting from him so you willingly went with him here. Obviously that's not the case for your side of the story." He grumbled, helping you up from the ground before slicking back his hair. He placed his hands on his nose and snapped it back into place, the sound making you cringe.

Solemnly, you took a glance at your husband's sleeping form. "In Paradis, Reiner was my friend, the older brother I thought I had back. I loved him, but not in the way that he loves me. You wouldn't fall in love with your kidnapper, right?"

Porco was silent but you knew what his answer would be, rather you hoped you knew what his answer was. You sighed as you dusted off your dress all around.

"Why haven't you left Liberio if you're so unhappy? Can't believe a Marley certified Eldian wouldn't even think twice about moving back to the island devils." Could you trust Porco with your plan? No, you couldn't. It was too risky, especially with him being his supposed childhood rival. And he was obviously loyal to his country, no way would he let the knowledge of you going back home slide.

"No no, it's nice here. I never said that I wanted to go back to Paradis, I'm simply not used to the advancement that Marley has over my homeland. Sure, it’s frustrating to start fresh but I like it here. It's just being forcibly wed to Reiner I can't deal with."

"Divorce is an option y'know, I don't know how it works in your home but it's not frowned upon here." Was it not clicking for him?

If you weren't in severe risk of getting killed by your so-called husband, you would've preferred that option. Reiner had given you no other choice but to escape back home, even if there was a risk of you dying at sea. You'd prefer that than dying from his own hands.

"I'll think about it. For now, let's try getting him home." Porco snorted as he watched you attempt to lift him up by yourself.

"Nah, I think we should just leave him here. I'll take the blame for you, I’ll say that he thought he went with you to go home but really he left without you while he was drunk and I found him here. Doubt he remembers anything from when he left his mom's."

Your eyes lit up and widened, looking at the man in shock. "You'd do that for me?"

He tensed up, his body turning in another direction. "Yeah whatever. Think of it as an apology for earlier."

A smile grew on your face as you thanked him again, almost skipping back to your home. However before you did, you turned to ask him one last question.

"Why didn't you hit me? I told you not to hold back."

He didn't look at you, preferring to keep his attention to the road as he kicked at a pebble.

"I was tempted to after you said all of that shit and pulled what you did. But I didn't want to leave something that Reiner would ask about. You don't got the healing properties that we shifters have so this," He pointed at his nose. "Would be fixed in a few minutes or so. Reiner would kill me if he found out I pummeled your face in, but he wouldn't be able to beat me of course."

You knew that he couldn't —well maybe he could, you weren't too knowledgeable about the different Titan powers — but you laughed at his confidence. He scowled at you and kicked the pebble in your direction, telling you to go home already. Maybe Porco wasn't as bad as you originally thought, even if he had a sharp-tongue and never thought about what he said until after it came out.

'•.¸♡ ♡¸.•''•.¸♡ ♡¸.•''•.¸♡ ♡¸.•'

Days seemed to fly by after that night, your determination to finally go home being ignited even more than before. Reiner came home in a frantic manner the morning after the fiasco with Porco, apologizing profusely for his behavior and how he left without you, making it up by cooking every meal for a week straight. He never questioned the bruising on your knuckles, only focusing on making it up to you.

For a kidnapper, he sure was thoughtful.

Beyond that, you began to hang around Porco more alongside Pieck. There were days where it was just the two of you, making snide comments towards each other before bursting out laughing at the end of it. You were always filled with pure, unadulterated joy when you were around him and he made you feel quite comfortable to be yourself, even if you've been here for years now.

Porco has always been honest with you, never has he sugarcoated anything he said to you. What once was something you hated from him, you began to view it in a new light and appreciate it much more, it kept you more grounded. There was a line however, he never mentioned you being a housewife nor about being "delicate" after that night and you wondered if you actually proven yourself worthy towards him. You would appreciate this relationship more if not for the conditions.

It didn't go unnoticed that Reiner had been more attentive towards your sudden keenness towards Porco when you began to hang around him more than usual. He became grabbier, pulling you against him by your waist whenever the two of you were around the warriors. When your attention was focused on Porco, he'd shoot daggers at him while scowling but he'd promptly ignore it. Reiner would do anything for you and here you were, being an absolute fucking slut to his comrade. His tipping point was beginning to spill over, so he finally decided to take on a heavier precaution in order to send a message to that damned Jaw Titan inheritor.

It had occurred where you were simply enjoying a short lunch with the warrior. He was originally supposed to quickly drop off a letter to Reiner but you practically pulled him inside regardless of his protests. He could've left but he didn't, sarcastically making a comment on how ridiculous it was that you liked him this much as he took a bite of the sandwich you made. You simply responded that he likes you enough to stay and that shut him up immediately.

Reiner came in from the backyard, ready to ask you something before his eyes captured the familiar slick-backed hair of his fellow warrior, who was in the midst of kindly smiling at you as you spoke. Porco never smiled like that, not to you, not to an island devil.

"Reiner." His name was called by him and he simply tipped his head at him in acknowledgement, leaning against the wall. You turned your head towards him, eyes wide before you got up and set your cup down.

"Oh Reiner! I was about to let you know that Galliard decided to join us for lunch, must've slipped my mind." You sheepishly smiled and he scoffed, taking a sip out of his cup.

"Yeah okay, decided. I was actually supposed to give you a letter Reiner, but she," He pointed at you as you stuck your tongue at him. "Pulled me inside and asked me to join you two. What can I say, can't resist free food."

Why did you act like that to him? When did you start acting like this towards him? Why was Porco hanging around his wife? Reiner suddenly felt uneasy but at the same time, the scorching flames of his obsession began to fire up.

"Very funny Galliard. Go sit down, I'll get your food ready Reiner." You were about to usher him to his seat, grabbing his hand and tugging before he pulled you close to him by the waist instead.

The words died in your mouth as you were about to ask him what was wrong, eyes meeting each other before he kissed you. He tilted your chin up with his free hand before promptly shoving his tongue through your lips.

A light gasp escaped your mouth as his tongue faintly brushed against yours, the sound muffled. You were about to retreat, thinking he was satiated with what he wanted, but he simply jerked you closer. Your hands fell on his body and his thigh slipped in between your legs, the action hidden with the dress you wore. The smallest twinge of pleasure shuddered down your back and you briefly closed your eyes, letting him continue to ravage you.

Unbeknownst to you, he was glaring holes into your companion, who was awkwardly staring before focusing his attention to his lukewarm tea.

Unconsciously you started to return his kiss, nearly matching the intensity. Reiner's hand began to grip the cloth of your back and it took all his willpower not to take you right in front of him, his cock twitching at the prospect of it.

It would prove his point even more, that everything of yours belonged to him and him only.

You finally found the strength to pull away, a strand of saliva breaking as you rushed to grab his lunch in the kitchen. That was... new. Things got like this, but never in front of someone else and never this badly. Your body lurched over the counter, the burning heat of your skin contrasting against the cool wood.

What have you just done?

Reiner took a seat next to him, as if what he had done was nothing but a normal fleeting moment. He poured himself a cup and sipped, asking Porco what he thought about the tea that you had just boiled up. He stayed silent, not even making an effort to look at him.

"I asked you a question Porco."

"For fuck's sake Reiner, what do you even want me to say? Nice kiss Vice Captain Braun, you sure shoved your tongue down your wife's throat." The man quietly mocked through bared teeth, his cheeks obviously tinged pink.

"I asked about the tea but thank you." Smiling smugly, he took another sip.

You soon recovered from the event, bringing in another sandwich for him and soundlessly taking your place in between. Not a peep was heard out of you, too embarrassed to say anything to Porco. Reiner spoke normally, opening the letter that was the whole purpose of his visit. What the hell was wrong with him?

Porco didn't stay long after — which was completely understandable but unfortunate — and you politely led him out, quietly apologizing for your husband's sudden behavior.

"Don't sweat too much about it, he's your husband so it's normal to do things like that. Wish it wasn't in front of me though." Porco grumbled as he turned away, letting you close the door.

It was a quiet night between the two of you in bed, your back facing away from the man. Of course you were fuming, Reiner just had to make-out with you in front of one of the only people that you liked on this damn continent. He shuffled in bed before wrapping his arms around you, his head nestling in the crook of your neck. He pressed his lips against your skin, his stubble grazing along with it.

"Don't get mad at me, you know I don't like it when you talk to others without my permission." When did you ever need permission in the first place to talk to one of the warriors? He was the one who introduced you to them in the first place and now that you had a decent friend, he wants to take you away from him.

You didn't answer, pretending to be asleep in order for him to leave you alone for the night. Reiner was then quiet for a moment and you were sure that he had fallen asleep in this position, until something solid pressed against the crook of your ass. Your heart sank to your stomach suddenly as the arm wrapped around you pulled you even closer.

"That kiss earlier... Did you like it when Porco watched you whore yourself out to me?" Hot breath aired over your neck, a cold shiver going down your spine. He shuffled around for a few minutes, pulling up your nightgown ever so slightly until you felt something heavy and warm rest in-between your thighs, ever so close to your clothed pussy. Your breath quietly hitched and the inside of your mouth felt dry.

No. No. He wouldn't.

"I don't mind that proposition. I would be able to show him who you really belong to, Mrs. Braun." Teeth sank into your lower neck, not enough to hurt but enough to leave a mark. You bit down on your tongue, wanting to turn around and push him off the bed. You had almost made the motion in an attempt to do so until he started rocking into you, his shaft brushing up against your covered clit with every slow pump as he gripped the side of your hip.

You slightly jolted at the feeling, his movements pausing. Quickly and quietly as possible, you slipped your hand over your mouth inconspicuously and tried to breathe slowly as if you were still asleep. Reiner's hand dragged itself up from your hip to your chest, lightly squeezing before pinching your nipple. You bit the inside of your cheek, eyes clenching at the sensation.

He groaned against the crook in between your neck and shoulder, the sound vibrating as he resumed his thrusts. His mouth enveloped the area and he bit down again, harder. You twitched at the pain, your teeth clenching.

You knew about reproduction and small bits of other things about it like the genitals of the opposite gender, you learned about it back then in both training and the Survey Corps. There would be whispers among the older soldiers, the boys usually bragging about their conquests while the girls would be bashfully denying that anything occurred. But you were never interested in the romantic aspects that life is supposed to normally hand out, not in the world you once lived in. Having to survive against Titans was the utmost priority that occupied your mind back in Paradis. Crushes and partners couldn’t coexist with the horrors humanity had to defend against.

A small whimper nearly slipped out of your lips as your husband's tip caught itself against a particular spot on your clit as he simultaneously squeezed your pebbled nipple, your teeth digging into your palm. Reiner's breath burned hot against your skin as his pace began to accelerate, thrusts still wary as if he even cared if you were still asleep.

"God," Reiner sharply inhaled, shaky exhales coming out in short bursts. "If I knew how good this felt, I would've done it every single night."

He let out stifled grunts as he continuously grinded, the soft breathy sounds sending down even more pleasurable pulses in your lower half. It shouldn't be doing that in the first place.

You never touched yourself once in your entire adult life, only feeling the pangs of arousal from time to time but never doing anything about it. This kind of pleasure was a particular kind of torture, overwhelming shivers slowly clouding your mind with needless want. Every unknown sensation was new to you, from the way he played with your chest to the way he managed to rub himself precisely against the same spot over and over and over.

For a man that has never once touched his wife, it felt like he knew what he was doing. Reiner was one of the popular ones in the training corps; some of the girls quietly fawned over him in the dorms, begging you for some kind of info about him. You told them that the two of you were strictly platonic and had boundaries, back then at least.

Besides Historia, you were the only one that had caught and held his attention so he couldn't have practiced on someone else. There was also the fact that you've been married to him since you've arrived on Marley. Was there the possibility that he... cheated? There was no way, right? He was too obsessively enamored with you to begin with. Why were you even getting upset at the thought anyways?

He stopped thrusting against you, repositioning until you felt his heavy cock rest in the middle of your thighs. It throbbed and ached for more, an odd stickiness started to pool on top of your skin, and your own sex was left pulsing with uncomfortable want. His hand had also finally stopped fiddling around with your chest, disappearing from your body for a few seconds before finding itself resting on top of your mound.

"Gonna make you feel good." Reiner mumbled, words slurred as if he was intoxicated off of his lust.

Tentatively, he slipped inside of your underwear, warm fingers pushing down and in between the folds, as if he was searching for something. At first you were mildly confused about the intent, until a soft whine slipped through your lips.

Dread was the first thing that you felt, your stomach sinking down even lower. Embarrassment was second, how it was now that you realized how wet you were.

Reiner completely froze up and you quickly shut your eyes, trying to relax the hand on your mouth to remove any suspicions that you've been conscious the entire time. You waited for anything, if he was going to pull down your panties and take you right there or finally stop this torment. It was the latter to your surprise.

The warmth of his body suddenly left yours, hands and dick pulling away from you. You felt his weight lift off the bed and a door open and close as if he was in a rush. Was he going to the bathroom to take care of himself?

You slipped a hand down to your nether region, face burning up. Your panties were completely soaked, all because of a little bump and grind and some sensual touching. Your body had betrayed you immensely, continuing to pound with a desire to finish what he had started.

What if he was going to do this again and not stop there? You felt nauseous, there was no way in hell you were going to be able to fall asleep in peace anymore. You pulled the blanket completely on top of you, bundling yourself as if you were a caterpillar making its cocoon, ready to turn into a butterfly.

Reiner finally came back when you were starting to doze off, alertness running through your veins once more. There was hesitancy once more as he settled into the space next to you, pulling some of that precious blanket cocoon off of you. You froze up again as his hand rested on your shoulder but he didn't touch you like before, he simply tugged the strap back up in its proper spot. He pulled down your nightgown as well, kissing the side of your head and muttering a nearly silent half-assed apology.

You stopped tensing up when you knew his breaths began to slow, relief warming your heart.

Deep down, you knew it was finally time to go. The more you hesitated, the more trouble you'd get yourself into. It shouldn't be this complicated, your feelings towards Reiner shouldn't even be complicated. You fell asleep in a restless manner, thoughts swarming around your head.

'•.¸♡ ♡¸.•''•.¸♡ ♡¸.•''•.¸♡ ♡¸.•'

In the letter that Porco had left behind, it had said that Reiner was needed for another battle the day after the date he had planned but you couldn't wait that long anymore. When the night comes, you were going to escape from this hellhole. No more control from him, no more pressure from people who thought you were the very bane of their existence, no more of this horrid life.

You managed to slip a note to the man who would be taking you home a few days ago in preparation. It was during a market run and even if your closely guarding husband was there with you, you snuck it to him while buying fish.

Yes, your big break was a kind and somewhat elderly Eldian fisherman; he had mentioned that his son went to war for Marley and never came back, thus causing him to harbor hate towards the Marleyans. He knew that you came from Paradis Island — for quite some time, you were the talk of the internment zone — and briefly brought up a mention of a way back to your home when you were buying fish from him. The two of you went on his boat under the guise that he was giving you fresher and better quality catches and from there, he explained the plan to you and you've never felt more grateful.

The money was for his retirement in the fishing business, he had almost reached his goal and you were giving the last remaining bits to him. He'd give you a compass, supplies, and rations in order to survive in the ocean as he can only navigate the boat so far. The man had a spare boat in case of emergency but in your case, you would be using it the rest of the way.

The only setbacks in the plan were that you could possibly get stranded in the ocean and run out of food or drinkable water, or Titans could still be on the shores of Paradis, immediately killing you the second you step foot on the territory. However, anything would be better than staying one more minute with your husband. The other main flaw would be that if Reiner found out before you could execute the plan.

But he won't be able to find out, you already have something that would make sure he'll never find out until you were truly gone.

You've gotten them in a medical shop back then when you were still planning to kill him instead of living the role of a sweet little housewife. Rat poison didn't work as his body rejected it immediately but something that was basically a natural instinct, no way it could fail.

You've tested it too, in minute doses so he wouldn't notice. It was usually dinnertime when you put the crushed pills in his tea or soup, something liquid so it dissolved quicker. Because the dosage was so small, he'd get sleepy or doze off a little before waking up once more. He'd always excuse it for having a rough day in a meeting with the warriors and higher-ups or he didn't get a good night's sleep last night, never once he suspected it was you.

A part of you was exhilaratingly excited but another part of you was so doubtful and afraid. In your heart, you knew that the rewards outweighed the fear. You missed everyone, you missed the walled off lands you were born in, and you definitely missed your true name.

You made brownies and his favorite tea as a surprise after the date, both were stuffed to the brim with crushed up pills. You've estimated that he'd fall asleep as soon as he finished up the little dessert and you'd soon make your escape afterwards. You couldn't pack anything personal, he'd get too suspicious so you only were going to be able to take a jacket and the date clothes unfortunately. A part of you wanted to leave a goodbye note to both Porco and Pieck as they've treated you at least as a decent person, but it was too risky. Plus you didn't want Reiner to harass them when you went "missing".

As Reiner waited below for you to finish up your make-up, you shoved the money deeply down in your purse and took in a shaky breath. 'Don't break the act now, Y/N. You've done so much to get this far. It's time to finish this.'

Pulling the strap over your shoulder, you began your descent, heels clicking against the wooden floor. Reiner's eyes brightly lit up as you made your appearance, your heart beating wildly in your ribcage. His eyes lingered on your formal attire, trailing down the curvatures of your body.

"You look stunning Y/N, glad that you're using the dress I got you." He gazed at you with complete adoration, your face slightly flushing. He was so deeply appreciative of you, it was almost sickening. Like he was shoving bitter cough syrup down your throat over and over again, never once had you gotten used to the taste.

He got you a dark red dress that ended at the knees, beautiful jewels lining the curvature of your breasts. You matched it with a fluffy white fur coat, something he had gotten you a year ago on the anniversary of when you were taken to Marley.

You mumbled a shy 'thanks' as he put his arm out for you to take and you accepted it, interlocking with him as he began to pull you close. He pressed his face into your styled hair, kissing the top of your head.

"You used perfume too? You spoil me too much, tonight will be amazing I promise." You smiled, internally dreading that you knew what he meant. His mother gave you a hint about what he wanted to do to you from the recent celebration of him returning home, and he had always tried to coerce you about children ever since the two of you had gotten married. He'd never get the chance of course. So yeah, Reiner's right for once.

Tonight will certainly be amazing indeed, for one of you at least.

'•.¸♡ ♡¸.•''•.¸♡ ♡¸.•''•.¸♡ ♡¸.•'

"You know I love you right?"

The two of you finished dinner at that fancy Marleyan restaurant, ignoring the stares and murmurs about devil blood dining next to them, as if they weren't the demons themselves. The weight of their stares was an exhausting burden that you wanted to never have in the first place. Why be blamed for some shit that ancestors you can't even recall did? Ridiculous.

You were walking back home with him after a decent meal, his hand wrapped tightly around yours. As he asked that question, you nodded in cooperation.

"Of course I do, you've told me that you loved me ever since you've brought me here."

"I know I said that I'd wait until you'd be ready but Y/N," The two of you stopped walking and he took both your hands in his, facing you. God, you knew what he was about to ask but you still felt awfully nervous about it. "I want to start a family."

Your hands trembled in his grip as you let out an awkward, breathy sigh out. Looking up at him, it felt like your heart was ready to burst out of the confines of your ribcage. His hooded, hazel gaze was achingly tender, awaiting for the answer he wanted to hear.

The terrible part of you, the one who lived as a Marleyan housewife, the one that continuously gnawed on your insides, desperately wanted to agree just to get everything over with. This was the life you've been living for three years now, suck it up. Why ruin it? Why ruin any of the good moments you've been having with him?

Of course you wouldn't accept it, the sane part of you knew better. The part of you that was still a Survey Corps soldier clawed for freedom, for something better than this rotten relationship. He ruined everything for you in the first place, from your own family to the friends that laid at rest at Trost to your whole young adult life. You owed him nothing, nothing at all.

Finally, you gave him an answer. "Can we talk about this at home?"

Reiner's smile faltered lightly as you avoided the topic yet again. You felt his grip tighten, your shoulders tensing. "We can if it'll make you more comfortable. But I want an answer, a solid answer."

He wouldn't take a 'no' from you, not when it's been three years and last night was evidence that he was done waiting. You released one hand from his and placed it on the side of his face, stroking his cheek gently.

"I will answer it my love, don't worry. Let's get home now." To sweeten the deal even more, you tiptoed and gave him a light peck on the side of his lips. You could tell that it worked from the way his eyes softened, what a pushover. He went back to your side as the both of you began to walk once more home, crossing over the gate that separated the "real" Marleyans from the Eldians. This would be the last time you'd be passing through like this, you swore to yourself.

No matter what, you have to get home. No matter what.

Home wasn't that far, maybe it went by quicker in your mind due to you thinking that you were running out of time to meet up with the old fisherman. Reiner opened the door for you and you shuffled in, almost bee-lining to the kitchen. You were stopped however, his hand around your wrist.

"Hey. We still need to talk."

"I know, I just have something—" You tugged but he held on firmly, interrupting you.

"Y/N, you can't keep doing this. This is the last time that I'm asking politely." Take, take, take. That's all Reiner did. But he can't take this chance away from you, not this time.

"Please, it's important." He stood in silence, most likely weighing the choices in his head. Slowly, he released his hold and you thanked him quietly, thanked him for being such a fool. You pulled out the brownies from the pantry and quickly heated up the tea on the stove, getting out the nice plates and cups from the cabinets. This was going swimmingly! Maybe you really do have a chance at escaping, your body almost shivering from the adrenaline coursing through your veins.

Placing the brownies in a meticulous manner on the plate and pouring the now warm tea in a teacup, you walked over to your husband, who settled in at the dining table while he was awaiting for you. "Surprise! Your favorites."

Needless to say, he was astonished that you actually had something for him. You placed the dishes in front of him, smiling brightly. "I wanted to make you something to thank you for the night out, what more than a little dessert."

"You shouldn't have, you've done so much for me already sweetheart." You leaned down and let him kiss your cheek, internally impatient that he hadn't eaten it yet.

"It's really nothing much, but I hope it's to your liking." He smiled at you and picked up the laced dessert, your hands flexing up in eagerness. Watching him chew and swallow the whole thing was probably the best thing you've ever watched him do, and he drank up all the tea that was in the cup. It was a waiting game from here on out.

"Now then," He got up from the chair and stood in front of you, grabbing your shoulders. There was a slight wobble as he got up and held onto you, wow this shit was working faster than expected. "Can we finally start our family?"

You beamed as you watched his eyelids flutter, trying to stay awake and focus on what your answer could be. Reiner began to struggle to stay upright, almost leaning into you as drowsiness took over his body. Placing a hand on his forearm, you pushed it off.

"No."

Confusion muddled his tired expression, as if he was expecting an actual yes. "W-what?"

"No, I don't want to start a family with you Reiner. Want me to spell it out for you? N. O." The smile you had wore down into an infuriated grimace as you took one step back away from him. He started stumbling backwards and you let him, watching him hit the chair and fall to the ground with it. The clattering sound of the chair reverbed loudly in your ears, but nothing sounded more beautiful than his body hitting the floor. He tried to get up but his body was betraying him, just as you intended.

When he realized that he was unable to stand after a few attempts, he began to yell out your name like a child, sounding angry and disorientated. Ignoring him, you quickly went upstairs to grab a suitable coat, kicking off the tall heels. You couldn't turn on the lights, in fear that it would waste too much time so you kept bumping into different objects, frustration bubbling in your throat.

The room had to be a mess from your brisk rummaging but no more time can be wasted. You had to go now.

As you went back down, Reiner's screaming had settled down into incomprehensible slurring and his head continued to bob up and down to try and stay conscious. Your eyes met and he made another attempt to get up, panic arising in the depths of his eyes. Maybe now he was realizing that you were about to disappear forever.

"Go fuck yourself."

Reiner screamed out your name as you opened the front door — or what you assumed to be your name — before losing consciousness and hitting his head to the wooden floor. Clutching onto the money-filled purse, you began to dash over to the docks, not looking back. You winced at the small pebbles that dug into the skin of your bare feet but you couldn't take the chance of trying to find the best shoes to run in.

This pain is temporary, anything that hurt you now would never compare to the prison that he had put you in. The wind started to pick up, biting at your face and legs, and as you glanced up at the sky, dark clouds began to roll in. You hope that it wouldn't be too bad at sea and if you died there, you would have died happy.

"Mr. Kraus? Are you there?" You called out to the ships, trying to search for his boat. You said his name a few more times before you caught a lantern that was being lifted up and down. Rushing over and ducking into the boat, you began to pull out the money to give to him.

"Woah! Slow your roll there outsider."

"I can't!" You put your hand over your mouth, not realizing that you were starting to lose your nerves. "My apologies for yelling. But I can't, he could wake up at any time. Please, can we hurry this up?"

Mr. Kraus waved his hand to let you continue and adjusted the hat on his head, pulling it back to watch you place the money on the small table. "That's all of it, your retirement goal is done. Now, can you now start up the boat please?"

He nodded, patting your shoulder. "Thank you for your assistance with this, really couldn't have done it without you. Help me get the ropes off and I'll send you on your way."

"Thank you." An exasperated sigh escaped you and for the first time in forever, you felt like you could finally relax.

You exited out of the boat after the old man, clutching onto the jacket. There was rain pelting down, the sounds of a muffled thunder rumbling through the night sky. Flickers of lightning lit up the dark, vaguely letting you see where you were going.

You followed after him, pulling at the ropes that connected the boat to the dock. It was coarse against the palms of your hands and the rain wasn't adding in with the pleasantness of the feeling. It took a few tugs but they finally gave in, letting you pull them into the boat and onto the deck. A few more to go and then you'd never see Liberio ever again. Your time here in Marley would be nothing but an extremely unpleasant memory.

Continuing to remove the ropes, you finally pulled in the last on your side. You giddily let out an excited yell, letting the rain trickle down your face. "Hey Mr. Kraus! It's finished!"

You stumbled over to him, eyes wide with happiness. There was a smile on his face too, he was sharing the same enthusiasm as you but for a different reason of course. He told you to get into the cabin before you caught something and you did as you were told. Barely turning away from him to get into the cabin, your thoughts ran wild.

What were you going to see in Paradis? Were you really going to see your friends again? Has the technology there advanced as much as here? Was the Survey Corps still fighting to explore the outside? Was Captain Levi still shorter than you? These kinds of questions would eventually all be answered.

This was it, you were finally going to be—

The deafening sound of a rifle going off before the clap of thunder chilled you to the core. You stopped trying to get into the cabin. How could you ever forget that kind of sound? You were in the elevator back in Trost, the resonating boom and click of the guns went off in all directions, the shells tinkling onto the ground. A warm liquid splashed onto the side of your face, pieces of an unknown substance landing along with it, and the sound of a mutilating crack came afterwards. Unease began to bubble in your stomach.

As you turned to look at Mr. Kraus, your eyes began to widen and it felt as if the world went into slow motion.

He was facing the docks, away from you, his head ricocheting backwards from the force of the shot. His body fell back and almost into you, hitting the deck with a heavy thump. A hand went over your mouth, the bitterness of bile beginning to leave a taste.

It was a sickening sight. Sure, you've seen people die before but not like this. For some reason, this felt more inhumane than the Titans. The entry hole was in the middle of his forehead, his eyes glassy and wide. It was the perfect shot really. His mouth was largely agape, as if he was about to yell something before getting his brains blown off and strewn across his boat. Crimson began to pool around him, the substance dribbling down the steps and into the crevices of the wood.

Turning away from the freshly made corpse, you shakily turned your attention to the docks. As if on cue, bolts of lightning struck down in uneven intervals and lit up the world around you. The feelings of dread and anguish sank down into your stomach, settling heavily. It couldn't be but there was nothing that was able to deny it.

There he was.

Reiner Braun.

In his hands... was a freshly fired rifle.

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magicalara · 2 years ago

Text

The Story of Grelle the Reaper: A review by yours truly prt 3

Hello hello my lovely theorists (totally didn't steal that from matpat, I'm Em Gem)! Welcome to part 3 of my analyzation of The Story of Grelle the Reaper by the lovely and amazing @eemoo1o-animoo. If you haven't seen parts 1 and 2 where I go over the prelude and chapter 1, you can go here for the prelude and here for chapter 1! Fair warning, they're a mess. Even this is kinda a mess, but it's okay, we get through it.

I have been messaging with Ell throughout the majority of my analyzations so keep in mind that even in my works there are some little hints here and there, though nothing too groundbreaking. I am a reader myself so I don't know nor would want to know the whole story lol.

Do keep the trigger warnings for the story in its tags in mind, Section 2 deals with some heavy stuff from my own personal life and just with Grell/e in general, though I explain this more in the precursory paragraph to that section so you are warned beforehand. Enjoy!

Chapter 2 is out, it’s great, it hits me in the feelings so much and is just all around amazing. If you haven’t read it, go do so first because while I will still go though this analysis like I did previously where it’s side-by-side, the chapter needs to be read and soaked in first. There’s heavy ideals here, especially at the end so take the time to go through and read the chapter on its own and then come back over here. …You read it? Good, alright let’s get this show on the road then!

So this chapter is 6k words worth of happiness until it gets worse and isn’t happy anymore and then I start to tear up because Ell is mean /j. There isn’t really weather to comment on at the start here so I’m gonna take this time to correct myself on some things from my Chapter 1 analysis, specifically the pigs and hands.

So for Chapter 1, there’s a whole part where I talk about what pig’s blood means and I was completely wrong. So I’m gonna correct it now. In the Book of Circus episode that Ell referred me to, I overlooked Grelle calling Beast an “ugly old sow” as just a one-off thing when really that’s what I should have focused on. Calling a woman a “sow” is an insult and so when the word “sow” is used, it’s supposed to refer to an actual woman, not an actual pig. I think too literally sometimes and it leads to my demise and the destruction of my mind when everything clicks. At this point, I’d like to point you to the Prelude when Grelle has sow’s blood on her…yeah…my mind went SHSDJHAKA too. So now we know that Grellie is gonna go murder someone at some point right before she dies and I can’t tell if I’m excited for it or not.

The other thing was the hands that I had said in my Chapter 1 analysis I couldn’t get at 10 PM running on little sleep, but was later told to me to be like a comparison to show how big they are. It's a dysphoria thing. Because you know men are like “bigger” and he notices how big his hands are in comparison to hers so Grell don’t like it.

Oh! Also the name Grell means bright like as in smart so when George and unnamed man who isn’t unnamed anymore says he takes after his name, it’s a compliment, they’re calling him smart. I think that’s all and if not, then you’ll hear about it in Chapter 3’s analysis.

In the last analysis, I did over six thousand words of paragraph analysis. I will do my best to not do that again. I’ve been suggested to try bullet points. I will be trying bullet points. If I exceed the word count of this chapter once again, I will…I don’t know I’ll do something (maybe finally do the next chapter of forever forgiveness that’d be nice huh) So let’s go on and see how bullet points go. This analysis will be broken down into two sections this time, mother/son bonding and The Mirror Scene™, fyi. Okay let’s go

Section 1: Mother/Son Bonding

Descriptions and cinematography

This is just in general but I still wanna point it out, Ell has an amazing way of describing things that make the whole story cinematographic almost. I’m one of those people who can’t see pictures in their mind, like I think in words. When reading tsogtr, though, I can see it. It’s new for me, that’s why I’m pointing it out. Just while you’re reading, really take the time to imagine everything because, especially later like with The Mirror Scene™ I can see it and there’s like a whole movie playing in my head and I love it.

Small Room

This just adds to me the whole idea of Friedrich specifically viewing Grell as a child. You could argue that Hilary is the same way, but I think her viewing Grell as a child is more of in a motherly “that’s my baby; always has been, always will be” kind of way while Friedrich is more of a “he’s a child who needs to grow up” kind of way. The fact that Grell’s room is small isn’t just mentioned here, it’s also later on, but I’ll go into that later.

Bullying and Hilary’s kind words and gestures

Hilary loves her son, her baby, and I will say that to my grave. Her gestures and words give off so much warmth and love in this whole scene and it’s just so apparent. Rather than scolding Grell for forgetting things (like a certain someone might have), she sees that he’s upset and that something might have happened. She doesn’t demand it of him, she doesn’t get upset at his lack of words, she sees her child, her baby, struggling and wants to help. She knows of the bullying that was mentioned in the past, and she’s worried for Grell. Hilary’s patient with him, even while he’s stuttering out his words. She has probably always been a safe space for Grell and the way that she just sits with him and lets him take his time shows it so well.

“...as though a spectre was afoot.”

Well… it’s not a ghost…But it is a reaper! :D Okay sorry I’m not funny continuing

George and Keats

Authors huh. I don’t know which George this is about, I’m gonna go with Orwell because I hate Animal Farm but it’s ingrained into me thanks to high school. Keats, I’m gonna imagine him as the physical embodiment of Keats the snake because I think it’s funny. There’s no reason to mention this part of the commentary, I’m just putting it in because I can. George and Keats aren’t important and I’ll be thoroughly surprised if they show up again

They are, in my mind, a form of “and they were roommates” because they’re always described as a pair. So yeah. And they were roommates.

I think it’s a little interesting that the two stopped visiting as much after Grell was born. There’s reference to it and after better confirmation, I think it’s worth mentioning that Hilary is heavily alluded to having been a prostitute before Grell was born. With how George and Keats said that she was always a pleasure to see (and considering that Grell probably didn’t understand because I don’t think he knows), they most likely were…frequent employers…to our favorite momma. So once Grell was born, that would explain why they would only talk to Friedrich at the bar. They don’t see Hilary anymore because they’ve moved on and it’s probably awkward to see the accidental child that is Grell Sutcliff.

Hilary throwing hands

Grell is very prone to overthinking to the point where his worries turn into little scenes that he sees in his head. He’s very anxious and the fact that this is something that’s happened twice in the same day really shows that. (Yes it is the same day, the talk with Friedrich from the beginning of the last chapter happened the morning of this day that’s here. The time is ambiguous, but I imagine that this conversation happens sometime between like 4-5 pm.)

Anyways, momma Hilary would 100% throw hands for Grell

“You know what I see?”

(This encompasses the parts from Grell explaining the roommates calling him like his father and beyond, I just used the quote because I liked it for this section of the section) We already know why Grell was uncomfortable and all, so all to right before the quote I put up there is just reaffirming it and showing how he invalidates his feelings, even to someone who clearly cares.

I think Hilary knows that Grell isn’t himself, not necessarily in a trans way but more in a I just need to show him that he isn’t his father and is his own person who needs more confidence kind of way. Either way, now starts my favorite scene in this whole chapter where Hilary’s just making Grell feel better and highlighting all of like his features in a way that she knows will make him feel better and I wanted to cry reading this. Anyways, she’s just making him feel better in that way that good mommas do with their kids. (Grell has green eyes idk how to insert this but he does and that might come up again once he isn’t a he anymore and really goes into that “damage cliff” stuff iykyk). She goes on and affirms that they’re “like dawn and dusk” and that they love him. As for her basically calling them two sides of the same coin, obviously Friedrich is gonna end up as a catalyst for Grell/e’s anger and I think that that can be seen as foreshadowing in a way for it.

Where did the fried egg (Friedrich; get it, fried egg, fried rich, eggs are expensive in the US right now among other things, eh, eh. It’s okay I’m not funny) go

He’s on a summons. In a noble’s manor. The next town over. Now I’m not saying that this will be important (that’s exactly what I’m saying) and it’s totally not because I know too much about the future of this story (I know a lot about the future of this story). Just. This is foreshadowing, just keep that in mind. The fried egg also told Hilary about Grell losing the job with fish and she’s plenty more supportive than the egg about it and shows as such by brushing over it and continuing on.

“I’ve always believed the eyes were the windows to the soul. Everybody’s are different, darling.”

We have more foreshadowingggg. And also sadness. First, “eyes are the windows to the soul”, is a little ironic considering that Grell is about to lose his soul at some point soon. Second, “Everybody’s are different”, until you’ve killed yourself and are dead 🥰

Okay but no actually like it’s interesting that this is something that Hilary brings up, especially in a series where eyes mean so much both in tsogtr and kuro in general. Like demons have reddish tinted eyes and full on red when they’re in demon mode, reapers have the double green, Ciel has his demon contract in his eye. Eyes really do show the soul or lack thereof and while, yes, this is just a usual metaphor that’s been said for a long time and doesn’t have a literal meaning, but in this case it can be both and that’s interesting.

Baby Grell

He was a little shit. At least in Friedrich’s pov he probably was.

Also just imagine Grell as a naked ass child running around to not go into the bath like it’s just funny and adorable at the same time. I can imagine him doing it since he was baby baby and I don’t like kids but Grell can be the exception

✨ Makeup ✨

It’s a nice moment between them and one that gives me hope that Hilary will accept Grelle. Due to the time period, it’s still not a huge chance, but a chance nonetheless and I will hold on to it like my life depends on it. And Grell putting the lip paint on his mother makes it feel warmer too like it’s just a nice time.

Okay part 1 of Section 1 done. It’s shorter than I thought it was gonna be, so like, that’s a win for me. There wasn’t much to analyze here (there was another mention of pigs and they have become an arch enemy for me but it literally means nothing. eventually bees will join this list, but that’s to be talked about in another chapter). Oh yeah and I say part 1 because I combined two scenes into one section this is just my little interlude for it. Take a break, get some water, get a snack. Okay let’s continue.

Bread making

More wholesomeness. As a baker, this scene makes me very happy, especially because they made a competition out of it and I just folded at that. Someone come do this with me, we’ll make whatever sweets you want it doesn’t have to be bread I’ve made many things before so we can do it I’m open to literally anyone. Let’s make a platonic discord date out of it we can bake on call together. (That’s all mostly /j like unless we have open communication that’s just me being lonely)

ANYWAYS THAT WAS A BIG DIGRESSION

She gave him a big smooch :( /pos I love them so much you have no idea Ell if you hurt Hilary I’ll stop analyzing this story /j

I can’t say anything about Grell because we know where that’s going

Dancey Dance

I’m pretty sure “junge” means boy in German so Grell calling his mother that is funny to me because she probably doesn’t speak it either and so would never notice and it shows how bad he is at German despite his father calling him that in the morning. Silly Grell, it’s okay we’ll always love you. Edit: All of that is not as intended…there’s my interpretation but it isn’t meant to be like that it’s more the two making fun of Friedrich. So yeah.

More memories of dancey dancing but Hilary brings up how Grell’s grown up so fast. She says “You just loved me too much to leave” which, in context, is about how Grell was overdue in his birth, but is also just really making the foreshadowing about the inevitable really hurt more. This goes even further when she says how “the place would be empty without you.” Grell is the heart that’s kept Hilary going these years and she loves him just as much as he her, probably even moreso. Let’s be real here, Grell was not a baby who was created on purpose. Hilary was a prostitute, and a young one at that. She isn’t older than 45 which, if you do the math seeing as Grell is 27, means that she had him at MOST at 18. The estimated age is around 15-18. Friedrich is obviously older, having been probably around 21ish when Grell was born and is now in his late 40s (48-50). Grell was not made on purpose so for Hilary to have gone through with the pregnancy so young and immediately going on to marrying the man she had a baby with must have been a lot for her. It’s not like she would’ve had many options but to keep Grell but still. We all know the Circus arc, abandoning kids isn’t far off and she could’ve easily done the same. Grell kept her going and so when the inevitable Cliff Scene™, as I am now dubbing it, comes along, I know that I won’t be able to resist thinking about Hilary when she eventually learns of her baby’s death. End scene.

I said it didn’t I? I said I’d make things shorter. And I have delivered. (Future Em here: the whole thing is 4.5k words. Which technically is shorter so I do win ha) The thing is, now we’re on to the Mirror Scene. If you are reading both this and the story side by side, now is the time when I tell you to stop, go read the scene properly, and then come back. Trust me, you’ll need it. The Mirror Scene™ is one that’s full of heavy, heavy feelings and ideology that hit me hard. There are trigger warnings for nudity and dysphoria, and they should be taken into account before reading. This is an important scene towards setting up Grelle and will be coming back in the future. I am not transgender individual and so if I say something that is in bad taste or offensive, please do not hesitate to let me know. In this section, I also talk about my own struggles from being a kid and now with how I perceive myself, so be warned of that. It starts right after the paragraph about Grell turning the mirror around. If there is one thing I could ask of everyone, it’s to be kind to me about that part and if you don’t wanna see it, don’t read it. But let me talk about it for my own sake. With that being said:

Section 2: The Mirror Scene

I’m going back to paragraphs, this isn’t a bullet point endeavor. So the scene opens and Grellie’s having a bath. We got the setup and we get a reiteration of how small Grell’s room is. Most importantly in this description is that where he bathes gives a direct path to his reflection.

This reflection is the whole thing which sets up the scene. It’s generally something that happens to a lot of people where they become insecure at what they see in the mirror, whether because of just general insecurity pushed by beauty ideals, or something which takes root in the mind and festers and grows into something much worse. The latter of this is true for Grell. He perceives himself in his mind much differently from how he looks in real life. Grell isn’t the perfect self he sees in his mind. Again, this is something that a lot of people feel, but for him, it’s much deeper than that. He knows what he wants to see, the perfect self in his mind, however knows that that will never be him. Grell, in his mind, can never be the person who he always sees in himself, almost as if he’s locked away in a cage of who he is on the outside. The light might seem so close and the corners of the room he’s in are visible in the near pitch black, but it never gets closer nor further away. It’s a detachment from the mind yet also something that is ever present in the corners of it. This anxiety and these feelings are described as a God-given punishment and a “flesh-eating disease” in a fitting way which shows the internalized turmoil he feels from feeling this way. I asked Ell about Hilary not having aborted Grell and she had told me about how, before Grell, Hilary wasn’t as connected to religion but that after she is somewhat religious. Grell also says how he’s read biblical verses in school (though it is said “unwillingly” which suggests that neither Hilary or Friedrich cared much about having Grell submit to a religion). Obviously he knows about the whole idea that “God doesn’t make mistakes” and so to be feeling that he, in the body he was gifted and blessed with, is not his true self is a high sin. It’s the disease that eats away at his brain, the sin which keeps him from being true. Even with Hilary letting him try things for fun at times or if Friedrich was more open to it, Grell has that internalized turmoil of what he has been taught versus what he is.

Then we get to the rituals he would do to lessen his, let’s be honest, dysphoria (there is also the dysmorphia which is implied but the two tend to go hand-in-hand sometimes so I’ll touch on it more as the scene progresses but in a general sense, what Grell is feeling dysphoric). He starts slow with just turning the mirror around which seems like a pretty good idea. He doesn't have to perceive his true being when clothed or when naked and you know what that sounds like a pretty good deal. Except then he gets asked about it and oh shit I need an excuse and oh fuck I’m not a good liar and I can’t really tell people the real reason I’m doing this and uh uh uh I need a new solution.

Something I wanna intercept this stream with here is the image of Grell having panic attacks in his room. It’s small, we know this, I keep bringing it up and so like unless he goes and has his attacks (because you cannot tell me that Grell Sutcliff has never had a case of semi-frequent panic attacks he literally had one in the first chapter and felt so much anxiety about his new job before that he ended up throwing up) on his bed, the floor is the only option. With the layout we were given, I bet you that the floor he’d have these attacks on were- wouldn’t you know it- right in front of that damn mirror. So while he’s already feeling bad, I want you to imagine Grell sitting on his floor facing the mirror or being able to at least see himself in the mirror at some point in the midst of a panic attack. And all those thoughts of his dysphoria coming in to join the party. But I digress.

Next solution, wear a shirt over yourself. The thinking for why he does it is much different than what I’m gonna compare it to, but I’m gonna do it anyway. When I first read this part, I was immediately thrown back into little Em’s mind when they used to go to the pool with their friends and were always told that they had to wear a large shirt over themselves in order to go swimming. For those who don’t know, this is something that a lot of parents do to cover up their children’s bodies from pervs, however, I, at the ripe age of 10 and even beyond to now at 19, have never been a skinny kid. I was always the fat kid and not the fat where you just developed early and wow look it’s the 12 year old with boobs (though that too), I was the fat kid who was told by my relatives to stop wearing short sleeved shirts because my arms were too fat to make it look right or to stop wearing shorts because my thighs were too big. I still keep that ideology to this day as I reach 20 this year and have not owned a pair of shorts since I was 11. Anyways, Grell wearing a shirt to bathe in reminded me of all of this because that’s what I would do. I’d wear a shirt in the shower, to the pool, and I’m sure if I ever went to a waterpark, I’d wear it there too. This isn’t all for analysis purposes that I’m mentioning this, rather it’s because this is a part which I, Em, the author of this post, hi, hello, how’s it going, resonated with very much so. I mentioned in the little disclaimer before this part, I am not a transgender individual. But for those who were following me up until like two weeks ago know, I recently changed my pronouns and while I don’t have a label for myself quite yet, this part with Grell using a nightshirt to cover himself as a way to not have to be perceived even if it’s just be himself, calling it an “unremovable suit of man’s skin”, and saying how he has a “loathing for his own form” hit me in a place I didn’t need to be hit (/hj). I heavily considered not mentioning my own feelings about this part, but to do so would be a disservice to myself, to the little girl who I once was, and to the character who has helped me through some of these feelings. And, of course, to all of the other people who may or may not see this post, read what I said, and think to themselves “I’m not alone.” I hope you enjoyed looking a bit more into who I am as a person and why I am who I am because I sure didn’t (/j). If anyone ever needs someone to talk to, please, please, please never hesitate to reach out to me. I will always be there as best I can for those who need it. /gen

Anyways, that sad stuff is over, so let’s get back into the sad stuff that we came here for :D The delusion that the shirt will help, even if just for the moment, and the idea that maybe one day, just maybe, things will change overnight, is such a hurtful thought. Partly because the delusion and false hope of it all can just cause more harm and disappointment as time goes on but also because it’s just sad. Grell is stuck in this endless cycle and because of his internalized fears, the cycle is destined to never end. He studies himself, as if he’s an external being rather than the body that inhabits his brain. He convinces himself he’s sick. Someone who would be locked away as delusional. He hides his thoughts of her away in fear of what could happen lest he make herself truly known.

Describing her body, she doesn’t connect much to herself really. Sure, Grelle may deem it as “his limbs” or even “his penis” but it’s as she says, it’s not a combination of words which resonates with her. That isn’t her body that she sees, yet she’s still faced with the unfortunate reality that she is connected to it. Scars might be easy to conceal, but the weight will always remain. Disfigurement might not make the essential bane of her existence go away, but it can conceal some of it. Alternatively, the scar of her penis is one which is too big to conceal properly, no matter how much she may try. It’s there. She can try and get rid of it, but the scar will always remain, figuratively and literally in the case of bottom surgery.

Then we get to the apex of the mirror scene- Grell’s art skills. Okay no but seriously, Grell lets Grelle take over here as she draws out herself while, internally, Grell is almost panicking, coming to full terms with what is really going on. He sees herself; the her who has always been in the back of his mind, plaguing his inner thoughts of his perception versus his reality. He sees who she is for the first time visually, properly, in the real world. And she loves it. She doesn’t see herself as ugly, she sees herself as her. Grelle is finally seeing what she was always missing for the past 27 years.

And then reality comes back.

The big takeaway besides the obvious reveal and realization of Grelle versus Grell is the fact that he never erased the image. One could argue “oh but he does it later”; does he random person?? Does he really?? Because I think that in the abrupt snap from Grelle to Grell, I don’t think he does. I think he’s gonna finish getting dressed, and then go back to the kitchen and leave the mirror as it is with the image of Grelle on it. I think that this is going to cause problems. Hell, I know this is gonna cause problems. But that, dear friends, is something which will be properly revealed in the next chapter of The Story of Grelle the Reaper. Until next time. (*in a matpat voice* But hey, that’s just a theory, a Grelle theory, thanks for reading. Sorry, I had to lol.)

~~~

There is so much to love about this story from the way it's written, to the relationships between the characters, to how much detail is being paid attention to here. If you'd like to be tagged, feel free to leave an ask or a reply and I will gladly add you to the taglist for the analysisisis that I do on tsogtr. And if you have any of your own theories or comments, leave those too! I'd love to start a section where we can talk about all of our theories, especially as things pick up more and more. Until next chapter!

Taglist: @hobbit-in-kuroshitsuji @superjelly11

#the story of grelle the reaper #tsogtr #em's analysis #em's recs #em's obsessions #kuroshitsuji #kuroshitsuji grelle #kuroshitsuji grell #black butler #black butler grell #black butler grelle #grelle sutcliff #grell sutcliff #analysis #fic analysis

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sindumpster · 3 years ago

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Idk if this a dumb question but

In the hole hoard Jake post, I saw that he had two stomachs. So that brings me to question.

Would there ever be an instance of one stomach getting full but the other not?

Nah I don’t think it’s dumb at all. Like ngl love questions like this and I am also so sorry it took me forever to get to this OTL

Honestly his digestive system is…complicated, because I’m a nerd. Like imo, it helps knowing what each part of his digestive system is even supposed to do in the first place (cuz there’s so many ways the man can be stupid and mess himself up lol). So I made a somewhat simplified rundown…becuz whynot. The man needed an update anyways.

[mild warning for fatal vore mentions]

But anyways, that’s not far off from how they actually work, even normally lol. His secondary stomach has a more limited capacity usually around 1 average human or equivalent in food, though sometimes it can handle closer to 2 and does most of the heavy-duty digesting, so it fills up a lot faster. His primary/upper stomach’s role is to hold food and “prepare” it for his secondary/lower stomach, so its capacity is a lot bigger. It’s meant to hold things so his second stomach doesn’t get overloaded, but Jake has a tendency to push both to their extremes, and he also has a very bad habit of “pushing things down” (either forcing too much into his secondary stomach, or forcing it in too soon). And usually food moving between the two is an involuntary and continuous process, but he can choose to voluntarily force down a bulk from the upper to the lower…though he doesn’t have precise control over how much actually gets moved along. So very easy for him to accidentally overdo it.

Like most of the time that Jake feels gross/bloated/overly-full, its because he’s overfilled his secondary stomach, or more rarely when something gets stuck in passage between the two. While his upper stomach has some limited digestive ability, backups in his lower stomach can push the upper to overcompensate. Which usually results in a nasty case of indigestion because eventually his primary stomach will be trying to digest things it can’t…usually piled on top of indigestion in the second because it’s either too full or overworked to relieve the primary.

Though there’s also plenty of times he’s overfilled his upper stomach and the second hasn’t even started working yet. It’s less common because of the upper’s ridiculous capacity, but still plenty of ways where one or the other will be “full” and the other isn’t (and usually, it’s because Jake did something stupid lol).

#soft vore #same size vore #fatal vore #fatal #stuffing #digestion #kinda just tagging everything for trigger warnings too lol #internal #anatomy #//also Jake used magic to modify his digestive anatomy #//like my dergs are weird but Jake is especially weird b/c he’s vore trash lol #Jake #canon ramblings #fantasy ramblings #asks #anonymous #doodles #also why I have fun drawing bloats cuz I can be sneaky with placement to imply where it is lol

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missmaywemeetagain · 2 years ago

Text

Pink Scarf - PART 14 (Elvis/Austin!Elvis x Reader)

Character/Fandom: Elvis - Elvis (2022)

Requested: kinda

(Read more here--Pink Scarf Series Masterlist!)

Prompt: You are part of Elvis Presley's coveted inner circle, and the currently-disgruntled wife of one of the members of Elvis' famous entourage, the Memphis Mafia. After Elvis' dynamite first performance in Vegas, you find yourself in deep water when his magnetism finally gets to you after all these years. [ Fem!Reader ]

TW: Blood. Assault in various forms. Miscarriage. Death/Mourning. Pregnancy. Cussing. Infidelity. Historical inaccuracies in the Vegas timeline. Priscilla doesn't exist in this timeline.

Rating: Explicit/Mature (NSFW, 18+, so minors Do NOT Interact) || Word Count: 7.6k

A/N: I'm so sorry in advance, y'all, cuz this one might knock you on your ass with its dramatic angst and give you whiplash after the last few chapters. Honestly, I hurt myself a bit with this one! *sob* Needless to say, the tone is a bit different here. Please make sure you read the trigger warnings for this part because there are some sensitive topics!

While I hesitated to make a part all in flashback, I couldn't seem to avoid it without creating a ridiculously giant chapter, and I also didn't want to make you wait that long, so here it is, complete with a cliffhanger!

Speaking of that, thank you for being so patient while I got this out. Life is kicking my butt a bit, and I SO appreciate you hanging in there with me!

Also, look out for some fun 1960 Elvis posts/reblogs later so you can get the full visual of his March 1960 glory, in case I haven't described it well enough LOL. I included a Rollerdome pic at the end as well.

As always, to all my babies, honeys, and lil' mamas supporting me out there, your reactions, reblogs, messages, asks, and comments you've given me have been a blessing beyond expression. You all are the best community a writer could ask for! Thank you so much for your support. I am loving getting to know y'all better! I love every reaction and comment and ask, and I'm sorry if I don't get back to them all as soon as I'd like but know that I love you all and am so excited to be making new friends! And a big "Hey, Y'all!" to Elvis Twitter, who stumbled into the Pink Scarf vortex and are now with us in the chokehold of '69 Pink Scarf Era Elvis and are supporting and sharing this lil' fic over there--I see you and appreciate you! 👀💋

If you feel so moved, please let me know what you think or how you're feeling (or send me asks)! I think I put everyone on the taglist who requested it, but please let me know if there are any issues or if I missed anyone. There seem to be some issues with tagging that I can't seem to fix, so please know I'm not leaving you out intentionally! Also, if you comment on a previous part that you want to be tagged, I might not always see it, so feel free to message me if I miss you!

I imagined this with Elvis in mind, but Austin!Elvis works here, too, whatever floats your boat!

Apologies in advance if there are any grammatical errors or TW that I didn't catch.

(I did start cross-posting Pink Scarf to my long-neglected AO3 account (which some of you already discovered!), so if you are so inclined, you can check it out over there, though it's not all updated yet!)

March 1960

You shouldn’t feel nervous. It’s just Elvis. But having not seen him in person in over 18 months, or even really being able to talk on the phone, you wonder if too much time has passed, if too much has changed, if the man who went into the Army two years ago is still the friend you cherished.

You wait in front of Graceland in the icy March air with Jack and a multitude of other close friends and relations for Elvis to arrive, shivering in your heavy coat. It’s a strange limbo you all are in, this energy of the end of one thing and the start of something new and unknown. You can’t help feeling that everything is different somehow, that a new era has begun.

This feeling is compounded by the secret you are keeping. You had been wary to accept that your greatest hope is finally coming true, but after your appointment yesterday afternoon, you are finally starting to settle into the fact that new life is growing inside you. You haven’t told anyone yet, not even Jack, since Elvis’ imminent arrival has taken over everyone’s minds. While you have no need to be the center of attention, you also know that the news would get lost in Elvis’ return. No one could compete with Elvis for any sort of attention. It would be a losing battle.

Honestly, you are glad to sit with the knowledge on your own for a moment, to give yourself a minute to adjust to your new reality. And part of you is still quite scared that this could all be over in a flash. It’s still early, the doctor said, even though you were further along than you’d originally thought. But after two years of nothing, there is a piece of you that doesn’t want to get your hopes up.

Perhaps that is truly why you’re feeling nervous and it’s nothing to do with Elvis at all.

Everyone around you starts to buzz, snapping you out of your thoughts, and you look up to see the police cruiser, lights and sirens and all, coming up the long drive. When it finally pulls up in front of the house and Elvis gets out, everyone explodes with liveliness.

It takes a moment for the small crowd to clear enough for you to see him fully. When his tall frame comes completely into view, you feel like all the air has been knocked out of your body. You have to stop yourself from gasping out loud.

He looks beyond incredible. So incredible, in fact, that your heart is suddenly fluttering in your chest like a schoolgirl’s. You have seen him in his uniform before, of course, but the last time, he was so miserable after the death of his mother that the uniform seemed like a prison, an unforgiving punishment almost. Of course, you’d also seen pictures for publicity and ones he sent home which would occasionally show him in his uniform. He always was handsome, to be sure, but now…now, something was different.

You try to put your finger on it because it really has thrown you for a loop. You aren’t some fawning, adoring fan, for god’s sake. But you cannot help but openly stare at the man in front of you. He positively glows. His blue eyes sparkle with the happiness of being home, but it’s not only that. Taking off his cap and tucking it under his arm, he surveys the small crowd and his home with joy. The blue of his dress uniform brings out the reddish-blonde of his natural hair color and the blush on his cheeks. His hair is long again on top, grown out and curled up and mussed from his hat. Compared to the Army buzz cut, it is more reminiscent of his signature coiffed 50’s style, but somehow more mature yet rebellious at the same time. It suits him very well, you think, highlighting high cheekbones, long face, and his now quite chiseled jaw.

Elvis’ whole face is lit up with happiness, that signature grin white and wide, as friends and family gather around him. You can’t help but feel warm and fuzzy to see that smile again in person. When you finally catch his eye, you feel like the whole world stops. It’s ridiculous really, the way your heart throbs in your ears, but you swear his face changes almost imperceptibly when he sees you. You’re not exactly sure how, but it softens somehow, imbued with just a little more warmth than he’s already exuding. His eyes travel over you only briefly before Jack reaches out to embrace him, but in that short moment, you suddenly feel self-conscious.

Once his eyes leave you, you let out a deep breath that you didn’t know you’d been holding. You look down, clasping your hands in front of you, but when you look up again, Elvis is looking at you from over Jack’s shoulder. You are absolutely caught in his blue-eyed gaze.

Stop being stupid, it’s just Elvis.

Perhaps your sudden intimidation by your dear friend is that he left Graceland a boy but has returned a man. Even though he’s thin, it’s in a leaner, more carved, more refined way than before. He still retains a bit of his baby face, but his countenance is different, settled, more worldly.

After exchanging words with Jack that you are too overcome to hear, Elvis steps around him and comes towards you, his attentions focused completely on you.

“Hey there, y/n darlin’,” he says gently, his voice still heavily accented, high and bright.

“Welcome home, Elvis,” you say. It barely sounds like you, you think, too quiet and soft and breathless. You ring your hands nervously.

He begins to open his arms and you know he means to embrace you, and all of a sudden, you are certain you are going to faint. It’s as if you know that if he touches you, right here and now, looking as he does and with the way his essence is radiating around you, something will be irrevocably changed. Your heart flutters and your breath rate increases, and you almost panic as he closes the gap, those eyes of his looking at you in such a way that you feel completely, utterly exposed. You want to run away, but you are frozen to the spot.

Just as he steps up to you, he’s attacked from the side by his young cousin. The moment between you is thankfully interrupted, and you instantly step back and behind Jack as the boy wrestles Elvis.

“Jesus, kid, a little warning next time!” he shouts playfully, putting the kid in a headlock and rubbing his knuckle into his head. He catches your eye for a fraction of a second, his face somewhere between regret and chagrin at not being able to hug you. You manage a small smile, but practically hide behind Jack, grabbing his hand as you warily look on.

The horde gratefully moves inside, out of the cold late winter chill. The look that flashes over Elvis’ face as he crosses the threshold is one of trepidation, grief. You realize being home must come with mixed emotions; after all, the last time he was here was when his dear mama passed, and this was the home he’d gotten for her.

You’re not sure that anyone else catches how his breath hitches and how those pretty eyes become anxious. In that moment, you forget all about the strange reaction you had to him not a minute ago and you ache to go to him, to pull him into your arms and tell him it’ll all be okay.

It seems like both forever and just yesterday that he wept in your arms on the stairs, bereft and inconsolable, as his mother lay in the other room in her casket. He had refused to leave her, petting her, and talking their baby talk to her for so long that they had finally placed glass over her to dissuade him. Even then, he had sat vigil by her side and as you all looked on in collective grief, as the concern for him and his deteriorating state was palpable. Almost no one was able to get him away for longer than a few minutes—first it was the Colonel near shoving him and Vernon out the door and into the arms of the vultures with the cameras outside. Then, Sam Phillips was able to console him for a bit. Jack and the boys and Anita all tried to pull him away, but they were only swept up by him to go see Gladys, and his tearful ramblings continued about how beautiful she looked and her tiny little “sooties,” and then his wailing and sobbing would commence once again.

His mama had always been more than kind to you, and you cried for her loss, but it was truly Elvis’ grief that had the tears rolling down your cheeks. But you hadn’t wanted to overstep your bounds. However, he’d stopped eating and drinking, and looked positively exhausted, eyes rimmed with dark circles. Eventually, you could stand it no more.

“Elvis, honey, I need you…” you’d said, putting your hand on his shoulder gently. He’d looked up at you sharply, eyes so bloodshot and filled with tears that the blue of his irises seemed unnaturally bright, his innocence and grief leeching out of them. You faltered then at the state of him, stumbling over your words, wanting to be as kind as possible. You cleared your throat, continuing, “I need you to come with me, sweetie.”

And somehow, against all odds, he listened to you, of all people. Wordlessly, he’d stood, drawing you tightly to him, his arm gripping your waist and his tall frame leaning on you for support, nearly knocking you over. You’d stumbled with him to the stairs, and he’d just collapsed into you, his head buried into your neck, clinging to you as if drowning in his grief and you were his life preserver. His heart wrenching sobs had silent tears flowing down your own cheeks, and you’d held him, petting him, cooing at him, your protective gaze shooing the onlookers away.

Eventually, after some time, he quieted. You could feel the heat of his head through the now-soaked top of your dress. “Oh, E, you’re burning up,” you’d said, feeling his face with your hands. He’d worked himself into such a state that his body was rebelling against him, and you’d whispered to someone nearby to call the doctor.

At that point, he’d had little fight left in him, and Jack and Sam had helped get him up to bed once the doctor had come. But he’d still clung to you, not letting you leave him once in his ornate, darkened cave of a bedroom. Elvis wouldn’t settle or let the doctor administer the much-needed sedative until you were in the huge bed with him and he was curled in your lap. You had looked to Jack wide-eyed for some sort of support, part of you feeling a little scandalized by being invited into Elvis’ bed, but none of the men knew what to do, and you were the only one so far that had been able to get him away from Gladys. You just got harried looks of bewilderment from everyone, and the doctor had just nodded to you, as if giving you permission to climb up in with him, doctor’s orders. Anything to calm Elvis down.

So you had, your heart breaking for him, confused as to why it was you who he needed, not Anita or Vernon or Jack. Regardless of how strange it was, you were his friend, and you’d do anything to help, no matter your own comfort. You’d stayed with him through the night, back leaning up against the headboard awkwardly, staying even after the sedative took hold because when you’d tried to leave, he’d still clung to you, heavy and feverish.

For hours you’d held vigil over him, hand rubbing soothing circles on his back, eventually drifting in and out of sleep, though any movement from him had you startling awake. And when you woke in the morning, stiff as hell, and Elvis blinked up at you with those huge, grieving puppy dog eyes, the pang in your heart was evident and confusing.

After those few horrid days, you never spoke of it again. You never asked him why it was you who’d been able to reach him through his grief, and beyond a whispered “thank you” in your ear before he left for Germany, he never mentioned it again. Not that you’d seen him for him to do so. Maybe that is why you are nervous, you think, because the last time you saw him, he was so utterly lost, and for whatever reason, you had been a lifeline in one of his worst moments. And that feels significant somehow, though you aren’t sure exactly how.

That look you see in his eyes now reminds you too much of that look from 18 months ago. But there are a bunch of family and friends between the two of you, crowded in the entryway, bustling with excitement, all seemingly oblivious to Elvis’ distress.

It angers you a bit, the way they all clamor over him without truly seeing him. You stand as rooted as he is, as if your being able to move is tied to him somehow. He looks at you then, sensing your gaze or your thoughts in that almost preternatural way of his, and you see the overwhelm in his eyes. The way the endless blue of them seems clouded over with pain and grief. The way they almost beg you to save him.

This, out of everything, gets you in motion, stepping towards him in the crowded space, but there are so many damn people that you can’t get to him. By the time you sidestep cousins and friends, you’ve watched as his face changes, a mask slipping over those handsome features so seamlessly that it takes you aback. You stop short, amazed at the way he now smiles and laughs at the antics around him, as if nothing happened.

You realize he must’ve had to do this to survive over there. There was no way he could show that kind of vulnerability during tank maneuvers or whatever they had him doing. He’s protecting himself, you think.

But it still rubs you the wrong way. The ease with which he switched emotions was disconcerting to you. Somewhat bitterly, you think that he certainly didn’t need your help through his pain this time.

Oh, stop, you chide yourself. He’s been home all of five minutes and first you wanted to run away from him and now you’re mad his grief isn’t crippling him? What’s wrong with you?

“Okay, okay, y’all, I need to go get changed! The press is gonna be here any minute,” Elvis chuckles and waves you all off, climbing the stairs. His eyes catch yours in the briefest of moments and you swear there is something unsaid in them. And then he’s gone, up into his room.

A shiver passes over you, your stomach flipping, and then a wave of nausea comes.

Jack sees you and comes over with concern in his eyes, cupping your cheek. “You alright, treasure? You look a little green in the gills,” he says.

“I…uh…my stomach is upset, sweetie. Excuse me,” you say quickly, the bile rising, and you make quickly for the bathroom down the hall. Once safely locked away, you rush to the toilet, sick. Luckily, once out, the queasiness passes quickly.

The doctor said this could happen, you think, looking at the reflection of your red face in the mirror. You rinse your mouth out and splash your face with cold water. It certainly has nothing to do with Elvis. That would be absurd.

It’s just the look in his eyes is haunting you and you don’t understand why. Maybe it’s just your hormones being in overdrive. Yes, that makes sense. You are on edge and not seeing things clearly. Or maybe too clearly.

After a multitude of deep breaths, you straighten your dress and hair, then head back out into the fray. You find yourself in an empty house. You wander about to find that most everyone has gone back outside to witness Elvis’ triumphant return to Graceland as procured by the press.

They have arrived, littering the snow-dusted lawn and taking photographs and recordings of Elvis as he sits in front of a huge guitar shaped cake. You peek over someone’s shoulder and your jaw nearly drops at the sight. Clad now in all black, his wool coat is appropriate for the chill, but his black shirt is open halfway down his torso, a large gold medallion resting on his bare chest. If he’d looked like the All-American boy getting out of that car not 30 minutes ago, now he looks like the perfect combination of sweet and sinful.

Oh, dear lord.

His chestnut hair is perfectly imperfect, a rogue lock falling over his forehead. You think perhaps he’s added a little shadow and mascara to his eyes, or maybe he’s just exhausted from the long journey home, but whichever it is, the slight darkness on his lids gives him a stunningly beautiful look, his blue eyes popping and dancing with a combination of mischievousness, aloofness, and candor. Somehow, he has retained the youthful swell of his cheeks while also now having a jawline that could cut glass.

As you watch Elvis pick at the cake, deftly putting pieces of it in his mouth with his fingers, the innocent gesture seems almost obscene and that lightheaded feeling comes over you again, this time with a swell of warmth.

You want to look away, you really do, but you’ve forgotten your friend’s natural charm, how his essence pulls even the most unwilling into his orbit. His beauty is one thing, but the feeling that surrounds him is another thing all together. It’s not just you caught in the pull, however. Friends and family gather around, too, though they are likely not experiencing the same type of reaction as you.

Oh, this is utterly ridiculous, you think. Elvis has always been pretty and alluring. Get ahold of yourself.

You think it must be the pregnancy hormones, the way your body flushes from head to toe just watching him eat his cake and play to the camera. You force yourself not to follow as they direct Elvis towards Vernon’s office for the press conference, his tall frame gliding across the lawn in the most confident and nonchalant of ways. He commands his audience as though he’d never left, born to be at the forefront of everything. Focused on the cameras, he does not see you, or so you think, until he catches you staring and quirks his brow.

This finally prompts you to move, turning away quickly and heading back into the warmth of the house. You are glad for the cold, as it gives a reason for your cheeks to be as red as they are, and it douses your heated body with a much-needed chill.

You are embarrassed by your behavior. Elvis is not some idol to be gawked at, not by you. Perhaps it is because you feel so removed from him in his absence, or it is the unasked questions that linger in your mind from before he’d left, but your nerves buzz annoyingly.

You manage to avoid him after the press conference, as he’s utterly exhausted from his trip back home and all it had entailed and sends everyone on their way with the promise of a party the next evening.

Later, lying in bed, you wonder what in the hell came over you. It’s got to be the nerves and excitement about the life growing inside you colliding with the trepidation of your friend’s return all at once. You also know that pregnant women have a multitude of strange physical symptoms, especially in the early days, which would explain nearly everything.

That must be it. It’s not about Elvis at all. It’s your body telling you that you are pregnant.

Finally.

The thought sends a flutter of a different kind through your chest. It’s one of excitement and hope and a little fear. You place your hands on your belly, imbued with a sense of motherly responsibility. You drift to sleep thinking of holding your child in your arms.

The party the next night has Graceland lit up in a way it hasn’t been in years. An air of celebration surrounds the place, chasing away any of the leftover morbidity from Gladys’ passing. You hold Jack’s hand tightly as you enter the mansion, that strange anxiousness from yesterday threatening to ruin your night.

Maybe you should have told Jack about the baby before you came, but no moment seemed quite right. Telling him before work would have distracted him and telling him before the party still seemed to be stepping on the toes of Elvis’ return. Tomorrow, I’ll tell him for sure tomorrow, you think pointedly.

The warm air of the house nearly overwhelms you, and the two of you strip your heavy coats and head towards the sound of Elvis’ boisterous laughter. Your dress is fitted only at the waist and not over the belly, which you are glad for, even though you are hardly showing yet.

You manage to find a seat in the corner with Jack far enough from Elvis that you can breathe, as the fact that he still looks incredible has not changed in the last 24 hours. Why you are so completely stuck on his shocking handsomeness and consumed by whatever prowess he is exuding, you still do not quite know, but it continues to affect you and keep you wary. Shaking off your unhelpful thoughts, you busy yourself talking with Anita, Pat, and the other girls as the men joke and play. After a while, this finally settles your nerves, but you are very conscious of not letting yourself get too close to Elvis as the night goes on, as if being too near will disrupt the tenuous equilibrium you are trying to maintain.

Later in the evening, you excuse yourself and head to the restroom. You can’t help but look in the mirror, rubbing your belly even though it’s impossible to tell yet. This puts a smile on your face, your sweet little secret. And this is how you exit, smiling, stepping into the dimly lit hallway.

“Hey, darlin’.”

“Shit!” you gasp, jumping out of your skin at Elvis leaning casually against the wall across from you. Your heart gallops against your ribcage, one hand flying to your heart and the other to your belly in a protective gesture. “Elvis, you scared the hell out of me!”

“Sorry, y/n,” he says, pushing off the wall, eyes remorseful but watching you carefully.

You find yourself barely able to look at him with him being this close. You will your heart to slow, will yourself to act normal, but it’s like you can’t. You can’t quite meet his eyes, you can’t quite breathe and escape is all you can think of. You awkwardly gesture to the bathroom, thinking that it’s why he’s lurking in the hallway, and then you step away from him without another word.

“Hey, now,” he says from behind you, perturbed, “You wait just a damn minute.”

Elvis’ long fingers circle around your wrist, grabbing you, and it feels like fire. Startled, you turn back and look down at how he holds you firm. You hardly have a moment to process that he’s touching you before he’s pulling you into a room across the hallway. Yelping, you have no choice but to follow—he’s much stronger than you—and he holds fast as flips on the lamp and then shuts the door behind the two of you. He releases you, then folds his arms over his chest with a scowl.

“Elvis…” you start, confused and shocked and trying to process whatever is going on.

“Did I make you mad or do something to offend you?” he interrupts, his voice laced with hurt. Those intense blue eyes of his lock you in place, betraying his churning emotions.

“What? No, what are you—?” you sputter out, faltering under his gaze and needing to look away.

“That! That right there. You can’t even hardly look at me!” he points, voice raising angrily. “You barely said three words to me since I been home!” He steps towards you and instinctually you step back, a hand flying to your belly, as the intensity of being this close to him has you completely overwhelmed.

His eyes widen. “Look at you, you can’t even be in the same room as me without skittering away like a little bird. I thought I was imaginin’ it for a minute.” Elvis pauses, looking you over. “Are you afraid of me?” he asks quietly, the hurt palpable in both his body and voice.

Your heart aches at the sight of him like, forcing you to relax and be more mindful of your actions. “No, of course I’m not afraid of you, Elvis,” you breathe. You aren’t, truly.

“Then what did I do?” he asks with such childlike innocence, such hurt, that your heart breaks for causing it.

“Nothing, E, you didn’t do anything, I swear,” you insist, going to him, unable to bear the look on his cherubic face. You force yourself to get close, pushing through your silly fears.

“Why ya bein’ so strange then, baby?” Elvis asks, eyes scanning your face. This close, you realize you could fall and drown in their oceanic blue intensity.

How can you answer that? You certainly cannot say, “Yes, Elvis, I’m being strange because you came back too handsome and your charming presence overwhelms me, and I don’t know where I stand with you, and oh, by the way, I’m pregnant.”

Your brain scrambles for an answer as the tension between the two of you increases to a level that has you sweating, and you blink up at him, flustered. “I…I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be like that…I guess I am afraid that you’re different, or that things have changed too much while you were gone, or that it’s been too long and that you might not, I don’t know, you might not see me as your friend anymore?” you prattle on, the honesty in your words surprising you. The idea and the truth of it brings tears to your eyes.

His beautiful face softens, his mouth popping open as emotions flash over his features so quickly that you cannot grasp them completely. You feel utterly caught up in him, the loss of control and your feelings frightening you.

“Never,” Elvis whispers finally, “Never in a million years could that happen, baby.” The way he looks down at you is charged, confusing, intense.

Your heart flips. A rogue tear slips down your cheek. Stupid hormones.

You are close enough now that you can feel the energy of him pulsate around you. It makes your breath catch when he brushes the tear off your cheeks with the backs of his fingers. You’re not sure if you can bear him touching you more than that because it sends a shockwave through your body.

“So, you missed me?” he asks, a sideways grin beginning to widen on his face.

“’Course I missed you, you idiot,” you sniffle.

“Some way of showin’ it,” he jokes now, breaking some of the tension.

“Well, I’ve had some things on my mind,” you say pointedly. “Life didn’t stop just cuz you were in Germany, ya know.”

You don’t realize that your arm has been wrapped over your belly all this time. Elvis narrows his eyes at you, steps back, and then looks you over very deliberately. Self-conscious and confused under the scrutiny, you blush.

“What?” you ask nervously. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

A huge smile spreads over his features and his eyes light up. “Congratulations, doll,” he grins at you.

He knows. Elvis, of all people, knows your secret after spending less than five minutes with you.

You are shocked enough that you don’t try to deny it. “I…How…?” you stutter out.

“You bein’ so skittish and protective, and the way you been holdin’ yourself this whole time is different. Explains that real pretty glow about ya, too,” he says, booping your nose playfully.

You blush harder. “Elvis, I just found out. No one knows yet, not even Jack, so don’t you dare go saying anything yet. It’s still real early,” you say in a warning tone.

Elvis nods, practically bouncing with excitement.

“Seriously, E, not a freakin’ word, promise me!” you say. He is a terrible secret keeper.

“Okay, okay, I promise!” he grins.

“Lord, with the way you’re buzzing, you’d think I was having your baby!” you laugh.

Something changes in his eyes, but it’s gone so quick that you can’t put your finger on it. He does still a bit, though, and you look at him quizzically. He doesn’t say anything and just looks at you openly. The air has shifted once again.

“Well, we should probably get back out there. Everybody must be missing the man of the hour,” you say, clearing your throat and turning to leave.

Before you can go far, Elvis’ fingers dance over yours, reaching, as if wanting to hold your hand and pull you back but hesitating as if he shouldn’t. Your breath catches, an odd feeling blooming in your chest, like you are falling. You look back and down, seeing and feeling his fingers graze yours in such a strangely much-too-intimate way. He doesn’t stop, fingers brushing and winding through yours. You can’t help the way yours start to move around his in the now heavy silence. Your eyes raise to meet his, heart racing.

“Y/n, I—” he starts to say, voice low and gaze intense.

“EP!! Where the hell you at, man?” Red shouts from the hallway, startling you both, causing you to drop your hands as though they were suddenly on fire. As if you were caught doing something you shouldn’t.

Elvis visibly shakes himself off and crosses in front of you to open the door. It opens a crack and then he stops, turning back to you quickly, mouth open as if he wants to finish what he was trying to say. He must think better of it, though, because he just shakes his head again and sucks in his cheeks before heading out the door without another word.

You pause, frozen to the spot, as your heart thunders in your ears. Befuddled, you try and process the last few minutes, try to piece out what the hell just happened. Your hand splays on your belly, your face hot and your body warm.

You were right, you think, a lot has changed. Everything and nothing, all at once.

After that, things move quickly. With Elvis’ new knowledge, you tell Jack immediately about the baby, pulling him aside at the party. He is thrilled.

A few blissful weeks pass. You’ve been feeling okay physically, just some nausea and lightheadedness, but your nerves are still a bit on edge. The strange moment between you and Elvis the night of the party lingers in your mind, just under the surface, and every time you see him, that odd falling feeling comes over you for a moment. It doesn’t help that when he sees you, something in him changes. It’s so subtle that you doubt anyone notices; in fact, you think you could be imagining it if not for the charged, unreadable look in his eyes. But to you he seems overly attentive to your every move, protective even.

You try and chalk this weird intuition and the way your body feels up to the pregnancy. Your body is changing a little each day, and maybe this is just a part of it.

Elvis has been enjoying his few weeks at home before everything starts up for him again, and consequently, so have all of you, finding yourselves pulled back into his orbit easily. He’s travelling down to Miami soon to be on Frank Sinatra’s show and then he starts filming his next movie in April. You have mixed feelings about this, dreading him leaving so soon again, but you also think perhaps it is a good thing to be away from him considering the tricks your mind seems to be playing on you.

Tonight, he rents out the Rainbow Rollerdome for an evening of what he dubs the “Roller Skating Wars.” You, of course, will not be skating in your condition, but that certainly doesn’t stop you from putting on a cute polka dotted dress and going to observe the chaos you know will ensue.

Jack, unfortunately, stays home, struck suddenly in the afternoon with a sore throat and fever. You tell him you will stay home and take care of him, but he brushes you off and tells you he’s just going to be sleeping anyway, that you should go and have fun. He practically pushes you out the door.

When you arrive at the Rollerdome, you quickly find the girls and plant yourself in one of the big booths with a coke, some popcorn, and some candy. Your cravings for sweets have been intense this last week, and you pick delightfully at the confections as you watch everyone skate around.

Elvis has a silly grin plastered on his face as he wheels up to your table, his hair so long and fluffy on top that it bounces with him, product keeping it standing nearly straight up. On anyone else, it would look absolutely ridiculous, but with Elvis being Elvis, it just seems to highlight how incredibly handsome he’s become. Honestly, he nearly takes your breath away in his dark polo with the popped collar, his eyes electric and dancing, his face long and jaw chiseled.

At least you know that you aren’t the only one noticing the change in his looks, because the other girls seem to blush and smile more as he looms over you all, the skates putting him nearly six and a half feet tall.

“Ladies, everybody got their skates?” he drawls charmingly.

Everyone giggles and there’s a chorus of “Yes, Elvis!” as they show off their skates. For a moment, you are a bit upset that you can’t skate, but that is quickly banished by the excitement of the life growing inside you.

“Well, go on then!” he motions, and the ladies scurry, happy to be summoned.

After they clamor out of the booth, Elvis looks at you more seriously.

“No skating for you tonight, right?” he asks protectively, cobalt eyes narrowing.

Your heart does that falling thing for a moment before you respond. “Nope, feet planted firmly on the ground, thank you very much!” you smile.

He nods, pleased by this. “Where’s Jack? I haven’t seen him,” he asks, looking around.

“Oh, he’s at home, sick. Booted me out of there. I think he was annoyed at me hovering, to be honest,” you chuckle.

“You gonna be okay over here? I don’t want you to be by yourself,” Elvis says, concerned.

“Oh, I’ll come and watch you all here in a minute. My back’s bothering me a bit, so I’m fine to sit for a spell.”

“You sure you’re okay?” he asks again, brow furrowing, as if sensing something about you that you couldn’t sense yourself.

“Yes, E, I’m fine. Don’t you worry about me. Now, shoo, and go have some fun, but for god’s sake don’t go killin’ yourself or anyone else out there!” you laugh.

Elvis looks at you in that unreadable way of his for a moment, then a wide grin spreads across his face. “No promises!” he shouts as he skates away.

You let out a breath after he leaves. His presence is still overwhelming to you, no matter how much you try to logic it away, so for now you are just accepting it. Such is living a life with Elvis in it.

Your back really is starting to bother you, which you attribute to the obvious, and after a few minutes alone, you realize you would rather be around people than not. You get up from the booth, then a wave of dizziness overtakes you and you grab the edge of the table for support as you blink away the spots in your eyes.

You wonder for a moment if you might be coming down with whatever Jack has, but your throat is fine. After a moment, the wave mostly passes, so you make your way to the skating rink to watch the group from the sidelines. There are a few people on the sidelines, and you have fun making small talk and watching the antics in the rink. After a bit, most of the girls come back out as Elvis and the boys are getting pretty rough, and part of you is a little glad Jack isn’t here to get injured.

You ignore the ache in your back (it’s just something you’ll have to get used to, after all) and another wave of lightheadedness hits you as you all head back to the table. You are starting to feel distracted, your stomach churning now a bit, too, and you remind yourself that being pregnant isn’t necessarily a picnic. You feel a bit claustrophobic now, shoved in the booth with the other ladies, and excuse yourself to the restroom, thinking it might be time to go home.

Something’s wrong, you think, a feeling of dread coming over you. Forcing yourself to breathe, you remind yourself again and again that you are just pregnant and these are symptoms of that. You pause at the water fountain to drink, hoping the water might settle your stomach.

As you are bent over, someone zips behind you on skates, then suddenly you feel a hand groping your backside.

Yelping, you choke on the water and jump, turning around.

“Hey there, pretty girl,” a man you don’t recognize leers at you, way too close for comfort.

“Excuse me,” you say haughtily, your heart suddenly pounding in your chest, making your lightheadedness even worse. “I think you have me confused with someone else.”

“Naw, you’re the prettiest girl in here. Why ya all by your lonesome?” he purrs at you, the sound setting off every warning bell in your body, adrenaline clashing with your dizziness and churning stomach. He leans down, as if to try and kiss you and you push him back.

“Leave me alone!” you say, your voice raising in both volume and pitch. You try to sidestep him, but he grabs you hard and presses you into the wall. You think you might vomit all over him.

“Don’t be like that! All I want is a little kiss,” he says, one wandering hand groping your chest as his lips come at you.

“Don’t touch me! Stop it!” you shriek, trying to squirm out of his grasp as his disgusting mouth roams over your face and neck. Your body betrays you, though, your back throbbing, weakness overcoming your limbs, and you can’t fight him off. You curse the fact that the bathrooms are so far back from the rest of the group, and you pray that someone hears you.

“Get off of me!” you try to scream, but he’s trying to silence you with his hand. Panic overtakes you now as you realize this man is going to hurt you, but in your current state, you are unable to fight.

“What the fuck are you doin’?!” You hear the low growl before the horrible man boxing you in is yanked backwards and sideways, his eyes bulging in surprise. You gasp as you watch Elvis collide with the man, his momentum from how fast he must have been skating sending the man flying.

The man stumbles and rolls, flailing and falling, and Elvis looks like you’ve never seen him before as he spins around. His eyes are dark and lethal, his jaw clenching and unclenching as his chest heaves with his breath. He looks terrifying, his focus singular, and you are almost afraid for the man. Almost.

“I asked you a fucking question,” Elvis growls again, pulling the dazed man upright by his shirt. “What the fuck were you doin’ to her?!” he yells, pulling back his arm and then socking the man in the jaw so hard you can hear the crack. The man is stunned for a moment, blood beginning to seep from the corner of his mouth, but he recovers, taking a swing at Elvis.

It barely grazes him and doesn’t even phase Elvis, who seems possessed. “Don’t you ever fuckin’ touch her!” Elvis shouts, then punches the man in the face again, hard, sending him flying.

Things are happening so fast, you can barely process it. You can hardly breathe, the waves of dizziness pouring over you, making it hard to focus.

Elvis goes for the man again, and suddenly you are fearful he might kill him because he seems so blacked out with rage. Elvis hits him again and the man falls to the floor in a heap, bloody and bruised.

“Elvis, Elvis, stop!” you try to call out, but your voice is too quiet, wavering, and he is too far gone. You need to stop him before he does something he cannot take back, and you know something is wrong with you because you can’t get your body to move the way you need it to.

It’s then that a sharp, searing pain burns in your abdomen, and a primal scream bursts from your lungs. A shockwave of agony rolls through you, knocking the breath from your body. It’s so sudden and all-encompassing that you see red, and you clutch at your belly, your head spinning, fearing the worst.

The baby.

Your cry finally snaps Elvis back to reality because he’s with you in a flash, fear and concern flashing over his features, replacing the fury that was there mere seconds ago.

“Y/n! Y/n, what is it? Did he hurt you?” he gasps, looking you over as tears stream down your cheeks.

You can’t catch your breath, and your heart is beating too fast. Then, you feel hot liquid spread from your belly downwards, life spilling out of you, running down your legs. You feel sick as you look down, Elvis’ gaze following your own. That’s when you see the dark red begin to stain your dress and your stockings.

It’s over, it’s over, the baby, oh god, runs through your head, a dismal chant in your mind. You look at Elvis with resigned horror, but you are feeling so lightheaded, you can barely focus on anything. Even the pain starts to wane and feel distant. You know this isn’t normal, even for a miscarriage. Something is terribly wrong.

“No, no, no, no, no,” you hear him beg, his hands on your face, your shoulders, his eyes wild with terror now. “We need help over here!” he bellows, never taking his eyes off you.

They are so beautiful, those crystalline eyes, those dark lashes, you think absently as you begin to slump over.

You are somewhat aware of his strong arms catching you as he slides down with you to the floor. They feel so warm and comforting, you think. You blink up at him, your vision starting to dim.

“Y/n, no, don’t you dare, you stay w-w-with me, b-baby,” Elvis says in a panic, shaking you, pulling you into his lap. A sharp metallic smell permeates the air. “Somebody c-call a damn ambulance!” you hear him shout. You can hear the terror in his voice, in his stutter, and you wonder why he’s so scared. You’ve never heard him this scared.

“Elvis?” you whisper. You try to keep your eyes open, but it’s so hard.

“Yeah, b-b-baby?” his voice shudders. You can feel his chest heaving as he presses you into him, rocking you, tucking your head under his. He always has to be moving, his energy always vibrating around him.

“I feel so strange…” you say, and you do. You’re aware of the pain but it feels so far away. Everything feels far away except for the heat of Elvis, which feels like a blanket around you. With the warmth pouring out of you, you start to feel cold.

“I-I-I know, baby. Come on, you stay awake, now,” he says in your ear as your eyes start to close. He shakes you again. You force them to flutter open. You think whatever is happening must be really bad if he’s so scared.

“Tell Jack I…I love him,” you breathe quietly, just in case.

“You tell him yourself, damnit,” Elvis chokes out, pulling you in closer.

“Thanks for…being…my friend…so good to me,” you say, but it’s not enough. You can’t seem to get the right words out, your mouth filling with cotton. You bring your shaking fingers up to his cheek, your face is buried in his neck, his smell surrounding you. He smells so nice. He feels so good wrapped around you. You’re not nervous to be near him anymore, all of that seems so silly now. Your hand drifts and you feel his full lips under your fingertips. They really are as soft as they look.

You can’t keep your eyes open anymore and blackness starts to swallow you, your hand falling onto his chest, but you feel unusually calm.

“No, no, no! Oh, God, don’t—please don’t go. I-I love you, y/n, please, I love y…” Elvis whispers pleadingly in your ear.

His quiet, startling confession fades away and is the last thing you hear before the world goes completely dark and silent.

Elvis at the Rainbow Rollerdome, March 19th, 1960

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