#he needs therapy and the opposite of black and white thinking

[skysquid22]

Mine is soooooo contradictory, it’s fascinating. He prioritizes long term gains to such an effect he got ousted from his R&D job because of it but blows money to an outrageous degree in the short time of Yakuza 3 and his justification for it is that he’ll make up the money later. (Won’t exactly matter if you bankrupt NOW, now will it huh?) His primary goal is to find someone who values people over cash and once he finds that in Daigo he criticizes him for the naïve perspective saying that he should focus on the interests of the Clan as a whole and not on third, unrelated, parties (Kiryu). In his rooftop speech he makes a point that he wouldn’t have spent all of Yakuza 3 trying to keep a hold over the Tojo Clan if Daigo hadn’t ‘failed’ him. Meaning that up to the events of the game Mine had been living proof of his answer by following Daigo through and through WHILE (if we count RGGO) continuously advocating for a ‘Clan first people later’ approach. He’s actually his own worst enemy. Just a constant self sabotage of what he wants versus what he believes is best.

#yakuza #mine yoshitaka #yakuza 3 #skyspeaks #rgg #not to say that he wasn’t sorta right about it all #it might’ve partly been jealousy too but he was right about separating from Kiryu esp when it was weakening Daigo’s control over the Clan #but Daigo’s relationship to Kiryu does source from what Mine values and honors in Daigo so damn much. it’s the same stuff. #I guess that’s why he jumps to his destructive conclusion… because it’s too good to be true and because bonds between people aren’t always #enough. he needs to find a middle ground #yes love isn’t enough his affection/admiration/love for Daigo is what will kill him in the end in a roundabout way #but love is also what kept him alive up until that point #he needs therapy and the opposite of black and white thinking #I WILL fix him #through character analysis

[anundyingfidelity]

I'M A RUIN — Soldier Boy (Part II)

Series summary: After the events of the Seven Tower, you present Grace Mallory a new secret project you're working on already to develop a cure to Compound V. The only problem? You need Soldier Boy for that.

Pairing: Soldier Boy/Ben x female reader.

Word count: 2.5k.

Warnings for series: set after S3 (spoilers), some OOC!Ben, some depressed!Ben, angst, hurt/comfort, eventual smut, slow-burn, language, PTSD, reader has Compound V (she's no Vought supe tho), Soldier Boy being an usual asshole, reader is a fucking liar.

Warnings on this chapter: Ben being a misogynist, talks about masturbation and porn, killing threats, Ben's POV in general is a red flag, death.

☕ if you like my writing, support me with a ko-fi !

get yourself in the taglist!

Part I | Part II | Part III | Part IV | Part V | Part VI | Part VII | Part VIII

tags: @k-slla

GEN MASTERLIST! — SERIES MASTERLIST!

Part II: Silence is Peace

The next day arrived fast, and again, you found yourself walking ready to have a conversation with the supe locked in the facility. A part of you was surprised he didn't try to escape yet, but Ben, on the other hand, was just letting things flow at the moment.

The heavy, metal door opened to let you in. The supe caught by surprise seeing you coming inside full of confidence at this time in the morning. A couple of armed men in black uniforms followed behind as they settled down some furniture in the empty area of the room: two small sofas and a coffee table.

His arrogant self knew those guns wouldn't tear a single hair off of him, but hey, he understood you needed to feel safe. So meanwhile, he decided to play along. He remained still by the bathroom door as you came closer.

"I didn't request that," he said once you stood face to face.

"Oh, I know. I did, it's for your therapy," you smiled, tugging the bag on your shoulder. The armed men finished decorating the cell, and they left with a loud thud of the door being closed behind their backs. "There's been a small change of plans. I will come by every day for one hour. Anything you want you will ask me first and if I approve, then I will bring it to you."

He smirked. Like if he needed to be bossed around by a fucking woman, he thought. "You sure have the balls to stand up on me like that."

"Like I said, I want to help you," you replied, making your way and sitting down on a sofa. "Please," you requested him with a hand to do the same and he followed with curiosity. You put the bag on the coffee table, taking out a notebook, pens, a folder, and a small zip bag containing the only thing he asked from you the day before. You left his reefer on the coffee table, putting the folder in your lap as you waited for him with a smile on your face he found unsettling.

Ben still didn't buy you or your intentions, but he sat down on the opposite sofa nonetheless. You had brought him something he asked from you, something he wanted and would calm him down for a little. Hopefully it wasn't going to be that bad. He only had to put up with the game of doctor-patient. In the back of his mind, he was also grateful you dropped the stupid white coat at the same time he found your attempt to fix him ridiculous. He didn't need to get fixed.

"Your guards ain't hurting me with those guns, you know that," Ben started.

"We have to try," you shrugged. "And you're still here, that has to mean something."

He rolled his eyes. Of fucking course he had to stay. There were a lot of questions in his head. He had to settle down for a moment. Things were different in the world, he needed to learn about today's tech and get a fucking good plan to get away with his shit. Who would he get to kill first? Still thinking about it. How would he escape? Probably could use some help to keep a low profile. Could you be that help, being the only human contact he figured would have from now on? Maybe.

"So how are you feeling? Did you have some sleep?" you asked.

"I slept enough, spent the whole fucking night jerking off," he spat. "That TV of yours now does have good porn some hours in the day."

With wide eyes, you wrote down after his answer.

"Alright. But tell me, how are you feeling?" you pushed, your smile long gone and replaced with a serious face locking your gaze to his own.

"Great, never been fucking better" he smirked and you shifted on your seat.

His green eyes started checking you all over for a second. The pencil skirt hugged your legs perfectly and the blouse was tight enough to show off the size of your breasts. The clothes yelling that you were expensive and valuable for the CIA, and most important, to Mallory. Soon he sensed the discomfort emanating from you as his gaze returned to your face. God, he loved doing that, but you sure were daring to get locked inside a room with him alone.

"You can tell me the truth, you know," you said.

"I can easily break your neck and explode this shithole if I want to," he spat back.

"You won't do that. You had the chance yesterday, today even, and yet here you are."

He thought you sounded so sure about that. Ben held your gaze. Neither of you dare to break eye contact. It was like you were challenging him to something he wasn't aware of just yet. He didn't like that, but he remained there, breathing deeply with a strong look on his face. You were right though, and he realised could find you a good usage besides the obvious fucking use for pretty girls like you. He might have missed a good fuck for 40 years but the little common sense on the back of his mind told him the porn channel was enough for now.

"Listen, I know you're not a bad guy," the words fell softly from your lips. "I know you didn't mean to harm those people in Midtown... And in order to help you I could use some information on how you feel every time the blast comes-"

He stood up abruptly, strong enough to move the sofa he was sitting some feet away behind his back and yelled aggressively.

"Fuck off, bitch. What the fuck do you know about me? I don't trust your kind and you're making my threat sound like a great plan now.

You held his gaze as he made his way towards you. You were a prey in his cage, but even if you were scared, he didn't sense any sign of it. Ben's big frame towered you, standing just inches away from the couch you sat on. The space was enough for him to kill you with only one hand but you never moved or flinched a second.

"If you touch me, just a single hair on my scalp, you're fucked."

"C'mon sweetheart, you're no match for me," he mocked with a smirk on his face.

"Novichok definitely is."

He tightened his fists with his lips on a straight line, and his heartbeat increased at the mention of that fucking poison. Meanwhile, you just sat down looking at him with a blank face and innocent eyes. For a moment, he was tempted to just kill you but he forced himself to calm the fuck down. He didn't want to black out again, he certainly did not want to become a fugitive. If he was going to do something, it had to be done well.

"Soldier Boy, it's okay," you got on your feet. His eyes followed your moves. "It's fine if you don't want to talk to me. I can't force you to."

He saw a strange sparkle in your eyes. Were you pitying him? He didn't need that. And when he said nothing, then you continued.

"You accepted the deal, and that includes therapy to help you get out of your trauma. And sooner or later, you have to talk to me," you explained, he felt like a fucking child being scolded.

"You want to fucking help me and spray me with Novichok at the same time," he groaned.

"We have to take our precautions. But trust me. I’d rather not use that on you, I prefer other ways."

"This is fucking crap," he mumbled through his teeth.

He watched you making your way towards the book shelf, leaning down to grab a couple of books. He took in the curve of your ass as you knelt, and he wondered if you were doing all that little show on purpose to test him. His jaw clenched once again at the thought of being played with false promises and a cure to his memories.

"I can leave, but I will come tomorrow," you tossed two books on the coffee table: one about PTSD, the other one about new technology for him to start educating himself on that. "Start reading those and write down in the notebook anything you have to say. It can be about the books, your thoughts, your feelings... Anything you want. I don't have to know unless you want me to."

If looks could kill, you were already dead. He still didn't trust you. He didn't understand completely why a stupid psychiatrist of the CIA wanted him to go through rehab. You were a woman, for fucks sake. Psychiatrists were old, wise, rich men back in his days, not expensive sluts.

He scoffed and rolled his eyes. "You're lucky I'm trying hard not to crush your bones right now, pretty thing."

"At least you're trying, that's improvement," you smiled cockily, pointing at his chest with a finger and you took your bag and belongings together, as if he didn't threaten to kill you like three times in the same conversation. "I will leave you now. Have a good lunch, Soldier Boy."

"Time of death 9:41 a.m."

The sound of the monitor disturbed your senses as the voice announced all over the place the death of yet another supe. You watched through the windows as two lab assistants ran inside the chamber to take out the lifeless body of the woman who had given her life to volunteer and assist the program. Anything for the cure, you remember her voice saying, even after she was warned about the possible effects. The worst of them being death. The contract stipulated it clearly and you told her to think twice before agreeing to take the third version of the Anti-V, although she hesitated a lot before joining.

You breathed out. The formula needed improvement, quickly. How many corpses had they taken out of there? You lost count already. You ordered Bianca, your young assistant, to note down all the details one day after the second death of a supe you witnessed, and for her to count them as necessary and at all cost. Arms folded on your chest, your jaw clenched, losing hope and feeling despair running through your spine. The discomfort of what had to be done to find a cure sometimes was too much of a burden. But sacrifices had to be done.

And speaking about sacrifices, you knew you had to get into Soldier Boy's head as soon as possible. The few other sessions you tried to talk to him were useless. The sixth one being today before lunch. A part of you was growing tired of faking it and pretending to be a psychiatrist, it really wasn't your field but you knew how to be one after many sessions, research, and medication on your own. Grace had taken care of your training years ago and this was just another mission with a huge impact and objective in mind: destroy Vought and Homelander, and then provide the cure to supes who didn't want their powers and give them the chance to live a normal life. People like you needed the cure, but first things first.

"Doc, the analysis of Blaze is updated," Bianca said, giving you the tablet to check the information on the supe that was collected.

"Thanks."

Blaze, or Electra Richards was her real name, was a low-profile supe for some time, and you had a secret track of those like her with some help. These kinds of supes didn't really represent a threat to Vought, so it was kind of easy to contact them and give them a possible solution with a warning written all over the place. When Electra was contacted, she had to think about it but eventually said yes. She was young and brave, but she never wanted powers. She had superhuman strength and healed in minutes, seconds even, her bones were indestructible, and when your people ran the proper tests on her she was healthy as hell. Pity that her body wasn't enough to take in the injection of the new Anti-V prototype.

You read the last notes your assistant typed on the supe's profile.

Cause of death: sudden cardiac arrest caused by ventricular fibrillation; failure in electrical signaling within the heart.

You couldn't continue like this, not anymore. Nine months and nothing seemed to work out. Some supes died, some of them quit the program, and you didn't really blame them for it. The failures were growing bigger than the small steps close to creating the final antidote. The process was becoming an endless trial and error. With a tired face and a sigh, you left the tablet on a desk and walked out making your way to your office.

You took out your cell phone and dialed Grace, walking around the room worriedly. You needed to vent or talk. Anything. And gladly, she picked up by the third ring.

"Is everything okay?" she asked on the other line. She knew you too well.

"I- No, it isn't. But you already know that," you breathed. "Another supe died on trial today. I don't know how many we have-" your voice cut off abruptly and you sighed, composing yourself after a moment. "We keep losing a lot of people..."

Grace exhaled. "It's part of the job. It's your project, you know it was coming when I approved to do this."

"That makes it even worse, you're not helping me," you replied with a playful tone. "I've been thinking- I would like to try the cure."

"No. We need you to focus on this."

"And when I get him, when I get Soldier Boy's blood? He already takes powers of supes with the blast. Should be easier."

"He's your safest option for now. You'll find a way to get it, I trust you. But don't make stupid and hurried decisions, just wait for the right moment," the lady scolded. You smiled a little, like if she was watching you. "About that, how's he doing? Is he cooperating?"

"Not at all, that's my other problem," you fell back on your chair ungracefully, your back hurting at the thought of seeing him again that day. "I am trying to get him to talk, even using my cards of dressing up like I'm a fucking slut with tight skirts and all, but he's really backing up. Besides he's a fucking dick," your words made Grace chuckle for a bit.

"All supes we have dealt with are dicks, especially Vought. But Y/N, you got this," her words attempted to make you feel better. "This is one of our best options to take them down for once. I know you've been working on this way long before you talked to me, and that's the reason I know it's gonna work, doing whatever it takes."

"Thank you, Grace," you mumbled from your heart. Disappointing her was not on your list, and you hoped it won't happen anytime soon. So you switched the topic of the conversation. "And how have you been?"

#soldier boy x reader #soldier boy x you #soldier boy x female reader #soldier boy imagine #soldier boy imagines #soldier boy fanfiction #the boys tv #the boys fanfiction #soldier boy #jensen ackles fanfiction #jensen ackles

[blondeboyfriend]

𝐀𝐍 𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐋 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐔𝐍 (𝟏𝟖+)

𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐎𝐑𝐒 𝐃𝐍𝐈

[ PAIRINGS ] Eren x f!reader, Grisha x f!reader, Zeke x f!reader [ AUTHOR'S NOTE ] My magnum opus /hj. Shout out to my dear friend Mica because I couldn't have written this fic without their support and guidance. And shout out to @strawberrystepmom because this fic is what brought us together lmaoooooo. [ SYNOPSIS ] Disillusioned by your current church, you find yourself drawn to a charismatic televangelist and his seemingly pious sons. [ WORD COUNT ] 14.6k [ CONTENT ] DARK CONTENT, tall-coded reader, sacrilege, incest (between Eren and Zeke), age gap (Grisha’s in his late 40s, y/n is in her 20s), masturbation, cucking, threesome, voyeurism, drugs (weed), dubcon (power imbalance, pastor x parishioner), degradation (during sex and just in general), angst, manipulation, creampie, thick Yeager dick, humiliation, y/n gets called “sister” while getting fucked but it’s in a religious sense, religious trauma, disturbing biblical imagery (violence), cigarettes (Zeke), biting, hair pulling, impact play (slapping), oral sex (m + f receiving), cum play, panty sniffing, spit play, blood (not in a sexy way), these men are strong and can manhandle/lift you with ease.

And I saw an angel standing in the sun; and he cried with a loud voice, saying to all the birds that fly in the midst of heaven…

The early vestiges of a Sunday morning didn’t inspire deep thinking or any form of reflection. It was a time to be brain dead, to indulge in the death rattle of public access television. You witnessed a zookeeper getting bit by a garter snake on a children’s program, families attending therapy while honing their dancing skills, deadly go-kart races, and a man demonstrating the superabsorbent qualities of chamois cloths.

It was welcomed. You needed to be numbed before meandering to the megachurch. Sermons were easier to suffer through if you were vaguely dissociative, your eyes glazing over as the exploiter behind the altar repeated his chicanery.

Salvation had to be earned. Consumption was godly. Wealth was bestowed to only the most pious of people. Sinners lived impoverished lives. They didn’t work hard enough. Your inability to line the pastor’s pockets proved you didn’t believe hard enough.

You weren’t sure if you called yourself a believer anymore. Church didn’t inspire you. It was just an unexciting compulsion. It signified the start of the week, the sun overtaking the hills. Nothing more, nothing less.

You don’t know what possessed you to tune in for Service For Shut-Ins that morning. Usually you knew to turn off the TV when twilight began to brew. But for whatever reason the show called out to you.

It likely had something to do with the emerald-eyed man on the television shouting, “Hey, you! Yeah, you!”

You were immediately transfixed. His chocolate brown hair was piled on top of his head in a messy bun, tendrils of hair haphazardly framing his face. His olive skin was sun kissed. He wore a crisp white button-down tucked into a pair of black straight leg trousers. His outfit was topped off with a pair of respectable, leather suspenders of a mahogany hue. He looked more like a model than a preacher.

“I think you’ve sufficiently startled the three people that are watching this,” a gruff voice muttered from behind the camera.

“Aw. Come on, brother. There’s at least five.”

The brunette smirked and flipped through a worn bible resting on the walnut wooden pulpit. The room he stood in was sparsely decorated. The walls were stark white. A blue velvet curtain hung behind him, giving everything a rather Lynchian appearance. It was the exact opposite of the flashy amphitheater you typically worshiped in.

“Do we start? Where’s dad?” The brunette asked.

“No idea. We’re live. Start without him.”

“With my luck he’ll get mad and not talk to me for two fuckin’ days.”

“Eren!” The voice hissed.

Eren shrugged and brushed his hair out of his face. He exhaled and cracked his neck, the sound echoing through the television. Just as he went to speak, a door opened and quickly  slammed shut. Solid footsteps emanated from beyond the frame.

“Glad you decided to show up,” Eren joked.

“Very funny,” a rather commanding voice replied. “You’re lucky I’m in a good mood today.”

An older man walked into frame and shooed Eren away from the pulpit. His sleek dark hair was tucked behind his ears, much longer than the hair of your usual pastor. He was dressed exactly the same as Eren, though he looked more disheveled and unshaven.

The man stared down at his bible and smiled.

“Ah, excellent choice, Eren. The Gospel of Matthew.”

You heard the man behind the camera sigh and grumble something incomprehensible under his breath. It was pungent with annoyance. You couldn’t help but laugh.

The pastor stretched and cleared his throat. He dove right into the story of Jesus and the rich man, and how the rich man questioned Christ about how one can attain eternal life. He orated the story by heart; it was riveting. At your church the pastor relied heavily on cue cards when he was compelled to quote scripture. But this pastor passionately relayed how the rich man told Christ he followed all the commandments and was curious as to what he lacked.

“‘If you wish to be perfect, go, sell your possessions, and give the money to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven; then come, follow me.’ When the young man heard this word, he went away grieving, for he had many possessions.”

He made direct eye contact with the camera.

“To some believers the rich man’s grief is understandable. But what Jesus witnessed was weakness in its purest form. A man too grounded in the luxuries of this world. It’s rather tragic, isn’t it? I can’t imagine having my self worth tethered to the things I own. If you know God, undeniably, you’d never cling to your possessions in the first place.

However, this is not to say the rich man is a lost cause. Everyone is capable of being saved, even the most disgusting and depraved of sinners. But as Jesus says, ‘It will be hard for a rich person to enter the kingdom of heaven. It is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle.’”

A chorus of men chanted, “Amen.”

“You,” the pastor said, pointing at the camera and leaning over the pulpit. “I can feel your discontent.” He held his hand to his heart. “I know what it’s like to witness heresy itself. I know how it can make you question your devotion. You curse God, unsure if He is worth following. I want to tell you that He is. It’s undeniably worth living in His light. I tell you, it's not God you wrestle with. It’s the used car salesmen masquerading as your brothers, shrieking in arenas filled to the brim with lost souls. You wrestle with the demons sinking their teeth into your wallet, draining it of every dollar.” His tone grew more intense by the moment. “That is not godliness! That is chicanery! These men do not shepherd their flock with kindness in their heart! They merely want to shear and bleed the sheep, to sell their wool to the highest bidder!”

The chorus of men chanted another, “Amen,” their fervor growing. The pastor’s eyes softened and he gave a small smile.

“You don’t have to weather the storm in your soul alone.”

You were aghast, mouth agape. A tear trickled from your eye down your cheek, leaving a single, salty trail. You wiped it away with the back of your hand and sniffled. How did he know? How did he know you struggled with your faith? That you attended a megachurch run by rich freaks?

No, it was just a coincidence. But a lovely one. You were changed by the pastor's words. He was what you were missing. Him and this Eren. They saved you.

You eschewed attending your old church. Service For Shut-Ins was all you needed. You hung on Pastor Grisha’s every word. Every little thing he said filled you with unspeakable joy. He was intelligent and progressive in comparison to the sermons you used to suffer through. He was also significantly more handsome than any preacher you stumbled upon.

Your hands often found themselves in your underwear, breath hitching as he rolled up his sleeves. His toned forearms could send you spiraling into the depths of lust. Under his intense gaze as he recited scripture, you pretended he could see you delving your fingers in your dripping cunt.

Shame tended to follow after you came, but you couldn’t help yourself. You were smitten.

“I need to see him,” you exhaled.

You found the address for the church on their bare bones website. When you mapped out a route you were pleased to see the church was on the outskirts of town, secluded from the secular nonsense and false prophets.

Your nerves almost got the best of you when you saw the one room church resting near the coast. It was painted black with a white door and white windowsills. It was simple, a welcome change.

“Are you here for service?”

You turned to see a tall blonde-haired man smoking a cigarette. He adjusted his glasses and took a drag. He dressed the same as Pastor Grisha and Eren though the first few buttons of his shirt were undone, revealing a hint of chest hair.

“Uh, yeah. I am. Am I… Am I allowed in?”

He chuckled.

“It’s a church, sister. Not a nightclub. Come on.” He tossed his cigarette to the side. “I’ll walk in with you.”

“Thank you. I won’t lie. I'm a little nervous.”

“Why?” He asked, smirking.

He looked so much like Pastor Grisha you wondered if they were related. The only difference being his flaxen, wavy hair and more muscular build.

“I have a complicated relationship with the Lord.”

“Don’t we all?”

He held open the door for you. You brushed up against his body and your breath hitched. Heat radiated off of him. You wanted to curl up next to him in the pews, have him be your security blanket until you got your sea legs.

“You can sit anywhere, but I don’t recommend sitting in the first row unless you want to get up close and personal with the fury that is Pastor Grisha.”

“Where do you sit?”

He patted your shoulder with his weighty hand.

“I don’t. I work the camera.”

So he was the mysterious voice you heard on occasion. You anxiously thanked him for his kindness before finding a comfortable seat in the middle of the pews. The only other people in the church were a handful of men all dressed the same: white button-down, black pants, leather suspenders. Not a single woman in the room. Suddenly you felt like even more of an outsider. A harlot considering you mostly came to gawk at a beautiful man of God. You nearly choked when he took to the pulpit, but to your dismay Eren was nowhere to be found.

Throughout the sermon you noticed the pastor’s gaze lingering on you. He seemed a little antsy, stumbling over his words, tugging at his collar. A sense of power washed over you. Never once had you seen him struggle to get through a sermon. It was charming.

Once the sermon was finished you quickly gathered yourself and headed towards the door. You caught the eye of the blonde camera operator. He latched onto your wrist as you tried to move past him.

“Where do you think you’re going?” He asked, smirking.

“I was gonna go,” you conceded. “I don’t wanna be a bother, y’know?”

“You’d hardly be a bother if you stuck around.”

His tone was flirtatious.

“I—I, uh, okay,” you stammered. “I can stick around.”

His hand snaked around your waist and he started to lead you out the door. You didn’t know what was happening, but you were pleased Zeke took the initiative to take you under his wing. He was a good Christian.

“What’s your name?”

“It’s Ze—”

Before he could finish, you felt a hand on your shoulder. You turned around to see Pastor Grisha smiling warmly at you.

“Zeke, I hope you're not scaring this young woman away.”

“Oh no. You caught me,” Zeke said, his words dripping with sarcasm.

Zeke let go of you and trudged off, mumbling expletives under his breath.

“He wasn’t scaring me off,” you assured the pastor.

“I’m just giving him a hard time,” he chuckled. “Though he’s not exactly the most welcoming boy around. At least not in a traditional sense.”

“He was very nice. He calmed my nerves a bit,” you said, nervously scratching the back on your scalp. “It’s my first time here.”

“I’m well aware. You’re hard to miss. What’s your name, sister?”

You told him your name and thought it was funny he bothered to tell you his, considering you knew it so well. It was a name that often fell from your lips late at night when you’d let your lusty mind wander. When he shook your hand you tried to memorize how his skin felt against yours. You didn’t know when you would be blessed with such an opportunity again.

“A lovely name for a lovely girl,” he said, squeezing your hand.

You were awestruck and ready to sign your life away to him. No one ever told you were lovely.

“Are you in a hurry?” He asked.

You shook your head.

“Would you be interested in coming to the parsonage for tea? I like to get to know my new congregants lest they not be true believers,” he said with a sharp tongue.

Your eyes widened, terrified that you might not be considered a true believer.

“I’m only kidding, lamb. Come, let’s go.”

You followed him out the door. He directed you towards a little house closer to the cliff overlooking the coast. The architecture was similar to that of the church, but it had two stories and larger windows. The pastor led you inside and you marveled at the foyer. The walls were paneled with wide, oak slats.

“How do you take your tea?” He asked warmly.

You pinched your thigh, dying to know if you were dreaming or not. Luckily you weren’t; you were very much grounded in reality. You told the pastor how you took your tea.

“My office is down the hall, first door on the left. I’ll meet you there.”

You followed his instructions, eager to show him you were an obedient parishioner. As you made your way down the hall you noticed a door cracked open. You peeked inside and saw Eren sitting on his bed, back against the wall, fiddling with something in his lap. Your skin grew hot and you wondered if he was jerking off. You hated yourself for watching, but your curious nature overpowered you.

“Aw shit,” Eren muttered. “I just ground that up.”

He got up, moving a little plate that was resting discreetly in his lap. You sighed. He was just rolling a joint.

“I said it was the first door on the left, lamb.”

You spun around and saw Pastor Grisha holding two cups of tea.

“I… I… don’t know my right from my left.”

You gritted your teeth. It was one of your shittier lies.

“It’s alright. Come, come.”

You followed him into his office and took a seat across from him. His desk was large and made out of the same wood as the paneling on the walls. You dragged your finger across the top of it. It was smooth, not even a hint of splintering.

“Did you make this?”

“I’m flattered you think I’m that handy, but no. My son did. He tends to do most of the building and upkeep around here.”

“Wow. He operates the camera and does the maintenance?”

The pastor stifled a laugh. “No, my other son. Eren.”

You took a sip of your tea. It was exactly how you liked it.

“So, what brought you here?”

“My feet. I’m kidding, uh.”

He smiled.

“I’ve been watching you guys on channel 5 for a few months. I figured it was about time I came to see you in person.”

His eyes narrowed. “To see me?”

“I mean like, you know.” You paused, your nerves getting the better of you. “I wanted to experience this in person. Your sermons.”

You felt like he was staring through you. Like he knew every lurid thought your brain dreamt up.

“I see.”

“I got sick of the church I used to go to,” you admitted.

“And which one was that?”

“Hope Springs Eternal Ministries. It’s the one tha—”

The pastor slammed his cup of tea back on the saucer.

“I’m sorry,” you mumbled.

He ran his hand through his hair and sighed.

“There is no need to apologize. It’s not your fault you attended the most heretical church in town.”

“Yeah, it’s pretty bad there.”

“Tell me, lamb.” He leaned over his desk. “Were you happy?”

“Obviously not,” you scoffed.

“What didn’t you like?”

“Too focused on money and I never have any to spare,” you explained, taking another sip of tea. “Hard to stay a believer when your salvation is tethered to how much money you can throw at someone.”

“You poor thing. It’s a tragedy you and all those other cretins are cursed to attend such a disgusting testament to God.”

“Wow. Cretins, huh?”

He blushed. “I suppose it’s my turn to apologize. It’s not their fault they’re so small minded.”

The pastor’s pretentiousness sullied your deification of him. Granted it was your fault for putting a man on a pedestal in the first place.

“Am I small minded, Pastor Grisha?”

He rubbed his foot against your shin. You swallowed hard.

“I’m not sure, lamb. Have you cut ties with your old church?”

“I haven’t been there in a few months.”

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

You held his gaze and tried to ignore his foot rubbing up and down the length of your leg. Silence flooded the room.

“Yes,” you finally spat out. “I don’t associate with anyone from there. Not a single person.”

He leaned over his desk and beckoned you to come closer. You leaned in and your palms started to sweat. He smelled like cedar and juniper berries. Part of you wanted to kiss him, but you refrained. He cupped your face with his right hand and ran his thumb along your bottom lip. You couldn’t tell if you were turned on or on the verge of an anxiety attack.

“Poor thing. Tell me, are you lonely?”

You hesitated to answer. You were in fact painfully lonely, especially now that you rejected everyone at Hope Springs Eternal. Grisha’s stare was so intense you could have sworn he could read your mind. Just as you went to speak the door abruptly opened. Zeke walked through carrying a bunch of camera equipment. A lit cigarette hung precariously from his mouth.

“You have to tell Hannes not to show up drunk anymore. I spent ten minutes trying to clear him out—Oh, it’s you,” he said, setting the equipment on a plush couch on the other side of the room.

The pastor dropped his hand and leaned back in his chair.

“If I tell him that he’ll never show up again,” he rued. “I hate to think about the trouble he’d get into.”

You were frozen in place, struggling to see how the pastor could be so calm after Zeke saw you on the verge of sucking his thumb.

“Zeke?” He asked. “Are you listening?”

Zeke glared at you, his grey eyes colder than an overcast day in January.

“I heard you, father,” he hissed as he exited the office, leaving the door slightly ajar.

“I oughta go. I don’t want to intrude.”

“Will you be joining us next Sunday?”

“I think so.”

You wanted to bolt for the door but remained seated. The pastor seemed to have some sort of magnetic pull on you. Getting up was out of the question until he said you could.

“I’d prefer it if you knew. Why don’t you give me your phone number so we make sure you remember to show up.”

You gulped. “Alright.”

You scribbled your number down on a sticky note and grimaced. It was a tragic attempt at a smile, but your nerves tainted it.

“I look forward to seeing you again, lamb.”

“That’s if I come back,” you laughed.

His lips became a flat line.

“You will. I’m sure of it.”

The sentence reeked of ominousness. You excused yourself and slid out the door without a word. You feared that if you opened your mouth you’d just scream. When you entered the foyer you saw a very disgruntled Zeke and a sympathetic Eren. They glanced over at you. Eren’s demeanor changed, becoming vaguely welcoming. Whereas Zeke ignored your presence.

“Bye,” you said quietly.

Eren waved and resumed comforting Zeke. Shame came over you. You assumed you were the reason Zeke looked so bothered. Though your obsession remained, you had no intention of returning.

Your phone rang at 2 am, the chime blistering your ears. You didn’t recognize the number and opted not to answer. Just as you were about to fall back asleep, your phone rang again. You declined the call and turned your phone on silent. It didn’t take long for the screen to light up; the mysterious number demanded your attention.

“What?! What is it?!”

“Sorry to bother you. I do realize I’m calling rather late.”

It was Pastor Grisha, his voice clear as day. Not a hint of sleepiness to it.

“Oh fuck, I mean, damn. Dang! Uh, what is it?” You stammered.

“I just wanted to talk to you; that’s all.”

You swallowed hard.

“About?”

“Whatever you’d like.”

You furrowed your brow. Grisha’s actions felt odd and lacking goodwill.

“I don’t have anything to say. I’m pretty tired.”

“It doesn’t matter. Just speak,” he said, his tone finally revealing some hint of urgency.

You paused and tried to think of something to say. You looked out the window at the frost coating the grass.

“It’s been cold lately. I don’t know about you but I’m not used to it. Do you remember it being… this cold?”

You heard rustling on the other end of the phone.

His answer was a clipped, “No.”

“See I’ve seen people try to say it’s always been this way.”

“Ha—have you?” He sputtered.

“Yeah. Uh, like on the news. I feel like they downplay it on purpose.”

“Uh-huh.”

The pastor's breathing grew heavier and you heard him spit in his hand. You clenched your fists and tried to think of harmless things he could be doing. Maybe he had something stuck in his teeth and spit it into the sink.

“It’s gotta be an environmental thing.”

“Climate change,” he choked out.

“You know one of the reasons I started hating Hope Springs Eternal was the pastor not believing in ‘global warming.’ Shows how much he knows, huh?”

“Mhm.”

“I’m, uh, assuming you believe in it.”

“Yes,” he moaned. “It beckons the eschaton.”

You paused, trying to collect your thoughts and ignore what was happening on the other end of the phone.

“Did I tell you to stop?”

“It’s just… That’s a rather disconcerting thought, pastor.”

“Call me Grisha.”

“Okay… Grisha.”

You could hear his hand sliding up and down his cock. You paced around your room. You knew you should have hung up, that this was wrong. But the inappropriateness drew you in. You felt powerful knowing you managed to break down Grisha’s defenses and make him behave like a pitiful sinner.

“Are you close?” You asked.

“Y—yes,” he responded, the words stumbling out of his mouth.

“I hope you realize how loathsome this is.”

You heard a low groan followed by panting, and hung up. You were ashamed of the wet spot in your underwear. You thumbed through your drawer for a fresh pair, slipping them on before crawling back into bed. You lied awake, staring at the ceiling, and tried to make sense of what happened. Masturbating crossed your mind, but it would’ve been unholy. You opted to close your eyes and pray that morning came quickly.

You initially had no intention to return to the little church on the coast, but it wasn’t as if you had anything better to do. As you crested the hill you saw Zeke standing by the cliff, staring out into the ocean. The back of his shirt was speckled with red stains. A cloud of cigarette smoke lingered around him caught in the cold, morning air.

You walked towards him, your hands shoved in your pockets.

“Hi,” you said.

He perked up and side-eyed you.

“Yeah?”

“I just wanted to say good morning.”

“Well, you said it.”

He tossed his cigarette off the cliff and headed towards the church. You trailed after, embarrassed that you reached out to him. Entering the church you were pleasantly surprised to see Eren sitting in the pews. You grabbed a seat in the same row as him but kept your distance.

“C’mere. No need to sit so far away, sister.”

You scooched over to him. He was much more personable than his brother or his father.

“Sister? Wow. So formal.”

He blushed.

“Sorry. It’s a habit I can’t break for the life of me.”

“It’s fine… brother.”

He snickered. “You know for the longest time I used to say it like Hulk Hogan.”

“You mean like, ‘Bruhthurrrrr!’” You mimicked.

“Ha! Exactly.”

“What was your favorite verse? Austin 3:16?”

“You know it,” he said cheekily.

Service began and Grisha spent the majority of the time comparing various atrocities to the Book of Revelation. It was more militant than his previous sermons. Never before had he ever dropped a reference to a “holy war”, but today that seemed to be the running theme.

To say it made you uncomfortable would be the least. But still you found yourself hanging on his every word. You pictured yourself charging through a broken landscape. Flames ripping through cracks in the earth. Locusts fluttering about. The stench of carnage filling your nose. A hideous, rotted beast rising from a bottomless pit. The bodies of sinners heaped high into the heavens; those still cursed with life gnawing on their tongues in agony. It was horrific, but you felt pride. If you lived a virtuous enough life you could fight in God’s army and live in His light eternally.

You were ripped away from your nightmarish fantasy when Eren’s sweet voice blessed your ears.

“Was the sermon that boring?”

“What? No, I was just thinking about it.”

“It’s all good. Trust me, I zone out the second my dad starts talking.”

You wished that was what you had done. You missed the mindlessness you could indulge in on Sundays. Ever since you started attending service you were hypervigilant, bordering on too aware. You stretched your arms over your head and stood up, hoping it would quiet your disturbing thoughts.

“Shit. I should’ve introduced myself earlier. But, uh, my name’s Eren.”

“I know,” you laughed, and then told him yours.

“Now that’s a pretty name.”

Your face grew warm upon hearing his compliment. “Well, I’m off,” you said cheerfully.

“It was nice talking to you. Happy to be around a normal person for once.

You giggled. If only you were a normal person. You bid Eren farewell and headed towards the door. Just as you were about to step outside the threshold of the church, you felt a tap on your shoulder. You turned around to see Grisha.

“Where are you off to, lamb?”

“Home.”

“That’s too bad.”

“Why?”

“I was hoping you’d come back to the parsonage so I could properly apologize for my… indiscretion.”

You had tried so hard to forget about him jerking off while talking on the phone with you, how he punctured you with the sword of his mouth. You knew you should’ve declined his invitation and set a boundary between the two of you. But you were smitten despite how much the pastor unsettled you.

“Okay,” you relented.

Once in his office he collapsed onto the couch, resting the back of his hand on his forehead.

“So,” you began. “Are you going to apologize?”

“I think you should be the one apologizing to me.”

“What? But you said—”

“I’m well aware of what I said.” He fixed his gaze on you. “However, you tempted me to share in your plagues.”

“I didn’t do shit. You’re the one that called me up.”

“You didn’t have to answer.”

“You called me three times!”

He exhaled deeply.

“I suppose I am partially to blame.”

“Jesus fucking Christ! You’re fully to blame,” you seethed.

“Why are you being so hostile? Come, sit beside me.”

For whatever reason you did as you were told. You sat next to him and stared at your shoes like a child about to be reprimanded.

“I feel as though you solely exist to tempt me, like some sort of divine punishment. Tell me, lamb, are you clothed with the sun or are you a whore that sits on many waters?”

“I don’t know…” You thought about the lewd thoughts that often plagued your mind. “I guess the latter.”

“I see,” he said, placing his hand on your thigh. “I can save you, if you let me.”

“And how exactly would you do that?” You asked, glancing down at the bulge growing in his pants.

He squeezed your thigh and turned to face you. His eyes were dark with ardor. He only ever looked this passionate when he was preaching.

“I’d rather show than tell, lamb.”

He started to unzip his pants, revealing his hard cock. You turned away and stared at the wall. He latched onto your wrist and placed your hand on it. You prayed for God to stop your underwear from getting soaked.

“Are you afraid?” He asked.

“No. But this… isn’t right.”

“You have nothing to fear. I’m your savior. You should trust me.”

You faced him. He didn’t look untrustworthy. What would he gain from pulling the wool over your eyes? You needed to be saved. You were lucky this man had decided you were worth his time. You squeezed his cock, watching his reaction. He blushed.

“There’s no reason to be shy,” he cooed.

He repositioned himself so he was lying on his back, pulling you on top of him. He lifted up your dress and pulled your underwear off, throwing them to the side. You had taken to wearing prairie dresses with high necklines and white ruffled collars to fit in amongst the congregants. Oddly enough this made the men pay more attention to you, notably Grisha.

He guided his cock inside you. Your breath hitched as it stretched out your tight cunt. It had been years since anyone had fucked you. You gritted your teeth and breathed heavily through your nose.

“Am I hurting you?” He groaned while thrusting into you.

“Yes!” You yelped.

He placed his hands under your ass, lifting you up, leaving only the tip inside. You braced yourself by putting your hands on his tense shoulders. He peered up at you and tucked a lock of your hair behind your ear.

“That wasn’t my intention,” he grunted.

He pulled your body closer, keeping it flush to his, and started to ease his cock back inside you. You held his face in your hands and kissed him. Your lips overlapped his in a desperate attempt at intimacy. You wanted him to feel your passion and love, that you weren’t some trollop that waltzed in to simply whore herself out.

He slowly pushed his cock deeper into you, his hips rocking ever so slightly. You whined through the kiss before breaking it.

“Fuck. It’s too much,” you whined. “Can you get on top?”

He was more than happy to oblige, lifting you up and resting you on your back while his cock continued to throb inside you.

“How’s that?” He asked breathily.

“Much better,” you moaned.

He smiled and lifted your dress up higher. He pushed down the cups of your bra and groped your breasts.

“Harder,” you mewled.

He pinched one of your pert nipples, letting out a tiny laugh as you squealed. You grabbed ahold of his ass, driving his cock deeper into you. A few tears fell from your eyes as he bottomed out, his cock ramming into your cervix. You bit down on your bottom lip and tried to hold back an agonized moan. But the ache invading your body needed to be heard.

Grisha’s thrusts grew more erratic and his groans became louder. He had been starved of intimacy for so long. His desperate hymn radiated through your body. You found yourself being overcome by ecstasy. It was as if God was shining His holy light down on you. It took everything out of you to start babbling the Lord’s Prayer.

You happened to glance out the window and saw Zeke standing outside, partially obscured by a Monterey cypress. You knitted your brow and swallowed hard, nearly choking on your spit.

“Wh—what is it? Am I still hurting you?” He asked, thrusting away, his eyes now shut as rapture consumed him.

You squinted as if it would give you a better look at Zeke.

“It’s nothing. Keep going.”

You hugged him closer as his cock leaked precum inside you. You prayed Zeke couldn’t see anything. But alas you were wrong. Zeke had adjusted his position, revealing that he was fucking his fist. His pants hung around his ankles. It made you nauseous and you felt as if your entire body went cold, like your blood turned to ice.

“I—I’m going to wash away your sins with my seed.”

You felt disgusted by everything: Zeke masturbating to the sight of his father fucking you, Grisha’s ostentatious assumption his cum was a sacrament, the fact you still found yourself reeling from the rapturious pleasure of Grisha’s cock slamming into your cervix. He dropped one of his hands and rubbed your clit, leaving you a quivering mess.

You wanted to hold back, to have him come inside you and walk out of his office with some form of dignity. But it was impossible. Your unstoppable moans flooded the room.

“That’s it, lamb. Let it all go,” he grunted as he came, fucking his cum into your cunt.

Once he was finished he got up and tucked his cock back into his pants. You were rendered immoveable, body glued to the couch.

“It’s time for you to go,” he said solemnly, zipping and buttoning his pants.

You wordlessly tucked your breasts back into your bra and pulled your dress down. You scurried out of his office, passing Eren on your way out.

“Oh shit! Hey!”

“I’m leaving,” you mumbled, not actually hearing what he said.

“What?” He asked, his eyes filling with concern.

“I have to go!” You cried out while speed walking away from the parsonage.

You quickly glanced over your shoulder and saw him chasing after you, his long hair flowing in the wind.

“Wait up, sister,” he shouted.

“Leave me alone! Just… please. Don’t. I—I just wanna go home,” you said, having regained some level of composure.

You stopped; your feet felt like they weighed a thousand pounds. You felt Grisha’s come seep out of your cunt, dripping down the inside of your thigh.

“Did something happen to you?” He asked.

You shivered.

“No. No. No,” you repeated mindlessly.

He narrowed his eyes, his stare fixated on the rumpled state of your dress.

“Who was it?” He asked.

“No one. It was nothing,” you mumbled as your legs finally found it in them to move.

“Are you going to get home okay? I can drive you back to town.”

“Stop! I don’t even know you. I think I can manage on my own.”

Part of you wanted to collapse in his arms and weep, but you were sick of relying on these men for comfort, for a smidgen of solace. Eren didn’t seem to pick up on your distaste. He took a few more steps towards you before stopping.

“Tell me, sister. Was it my dad?”

“Didn’t I say it was no one?” You seethed, clenching your jaw.

You didn’t return to church the following Sunday or the Sunday after that even though Grisha incessantly called you. Instead you watched a live feed of the service at Hope Springs Eternal. You were able to lose yourself in the pompous extravagance. It wasn’t particularly pleasant. The sermon was the typical “poor people are poor because they don’t love God enough.” But it was nice to not hear rants about fighting in God’s army. Plus you thoroughly enjoyed roasting your old church.

“Idiots,” you muttered, shoving your hand in a box of cereal. “That guy doesn’t love God enough because his toupee isn’t on straight.”

You laughed with a mouthful of cereal and nearly choked on your giggle fit.

However you grimaced when the pastor brought out a rattlesnake. His eyes rolled into the back of his head and he spoke in tongues.

“What is this? Fear Factor?”

Suddenly the crowd erupted into a shrieking mass of glossolalia, throwing themselves at the ground, as the pastor held the snake above his head. You were shocked to see the church had become such a spectacle while you were gone.

“Well that’s unsettling,” you said, turning off your television. “I hope the snake is okay.”

Pastor Grisha’s sermons suddenly seemed reasonable in comparison to whatever the fuck it was you’d just witnessed. You stared at your phone and picked it up. It felt like a stone in your hand. You called Grisha, hoping he wouldn’t answer.

Much to your disappointment he picked up on the first ring.

“Hi,” you said solemnly.

“My precious lamb, have you decided to come crawling back?”

You clenched your fists, your fingernails leaving valleys in your palm.

“Do you guys speak in tongues and handle snakes?”

“I run a church. Not a sideshow.”

“I take that as a no then.”

“That’s all ceremonial grandeur. It’s not of God.”

“Isn’t it in The Bible?”

“Much of The Bible is not to be taken literally.”

“Fair enough…”

“Why do you ask?”

You sighed. “Hope Springs Eternal livesteams their servi—”

“Heretical bastards!”

“Don—Don’t you broadcast your sermons on television? How is that any different?”

“Because I’m right goddammit! Even if I wanted to stop, I couldn't! It’s God’s will! How am I supposed to deny his desires?!”

“I—”

“What I do… What I do is necessary. It’s my duty. Only I can lead us on the virtuous path.”

“What about your sons?”

“Zeke’s more than capable, but he let his brain get eaten away by lust.”

“What about Eren?”

“He’s charming, but a lost cause. Noncommittal. He’s not a firm believer.” He exhaled. “It has to be me. There’s no other option.”

He sounded almost wistful, like he was being forced to do these things against his own will.

“It is how things are and have to be,” he mumbled. “I wasn’t exactly interested in this, but when God calls you don’t bury your head in the sand.”

“I guess. But you could stop. You know that, right? It doesn’t have to be like this.”

“Who am I to question the Hand of God, lamb? I’m a mere man. If He isn’t guiding me, I’ll stray. It’s—It’s hard… for me. You’d know that better than anyone.”

You held your breath. You were used to a level of opaqueness he operated under. To hear Grisha express doubt in the Lord bothered you. He was supposed to be different, to be stronger than the average pastor. One that was steadfast in his beliefs.

“I’ve missed seeing you,” he sighed.

“I doubt that.”

“It’s true. I need you. I’m lost without you.”

“I thought I was a temptress, a whore sitting on many waters or whatever.”

“Hush, lamb. Promise me you’ll come back next Sunday,” he pleaded.

“I’ll think about it,” you hissed before hanging up.

You were pissed Grisha’s plea managed to convince you. You showed up at the church the next Sunday dressed in a plain black prairie dress, something that wouldn’t make you stand out amongst the plain clothed men. You took your seat in the pews and didn’t make eye contact with anyone.

A familiar voice coming from behind you. “Hi!”

“Hey, Eren,” you said, a small smile crossing your face.

“It’s nice to see you, sister. I was worried about you.”

“I’m alright. No reason to be concerned.”

You wanted to placate him, but your tone was too clipped. It was like you were brandishing a knife after every word. Eren’s green eyes were tinged with worry, but he grinned and took a seat beside you. Service began as it usually did, but you noticed Zeke and the camera equipment were nowhere to be found.

“Are you guys not filming anymore?” You asked in a hushed tone.

“Hm? Oh, not today.”

You raised an eyebrow and decided not to think about it.

Grisha’s sermon ended up being much more benign. There was little talk of violence and not a single reference to God’s wrath. As he preached you zoned out.

“Am I boring you, sister?” Grisha asked pointedly.

You perked up and shook your head. He glared at you briefly before resuming the sermon. Nothing weird was happening, but there was an oddness in the air, like something unseen to only you was brewing. Even Eren started to look a little antsy.

“Who here needs to be healed?” Grisha suddenly asked.

You turned to Eren, but his eyes were fixated on the floor. Your body went cold. No one was speaking. Everyone’s eyes were trained on you. You sunk down into the pew, hoping people would forget you were even there. Out of sight, out of mind.

“Sister,” Grisha suddenly said.

You weren’t used to him addressing you in a formal way.

“Yes,” you said cheerfully. You wanted to pull the wool over everyone’s eyes. Maybe if you were pleasant, the mood in the church would change.

“Do you need to be healed?”

“Nope. I, uh, I think I’m good.”

“Who here thinks our sister needs to be healed?”

The men all raised their hands at once. You were aghast to see Eren slowly raising his hand, eyes still focused on the floor in front of him.

“Seriously?” You asked in a hushed voice.

He gave you nothing in response.

“I think we’ve come to a consensus,” Grisha said, leaving the pulpit. “Let’s gather around our sister.”

Everytime he said “sister” you felt like you swallowed a razor blade. You hated hearing it, but speaking up was thankless. It wouldn’t do anything. You were outnumbered. The men gathered around you, all with rather blank looks on their faces. Their eyes were flat and shark-like.

“You guys can’t be serious.”

One of the men placed their hand on your shoulder. The others followed suit and placed their hands on your shoulders, back, and the top of your head. You directed a pleading stare towards Eren.

“It’s fine. They’re not gonna hurt you,” he muttered.

You wanted to attack him like a wild animal, rip into his skin and pluck out his pretty, green eyes. You barely knew him, but somehow this was the ultimate betrayal.

“Fucker,” you said under your breath.

You breathed deeply to calm yourself. It was true. The men weren’t hurting you, at least on a physical level. The church was silent other than your labored breathing and the offshore winds occasionally rattling the windows.

“Do you have anything you’d like to repent for?” Grisha asked.

You flared your nostrils. “No.”

“Are you sure?” A drunk parishioner slurred.

You refused to answer.

“Are you sure?” Grisha repeated.

“Yes,” you answered in your most authoritative tone.

“You made eyes at me during service,” one of the men said. “You gave me a look.”

“What? I don’t even know you.”

“I saw you do it,” another one said.

Another tightened his grip on your shoulder.

“We all saw,” he rumbled.

The door of the church flung open. For a brief moment relief came over you.

“Sorry I’m late—Oh, so we are doing this,” Zeke said, fastening the last few buttons on his shirt.

“You’re just in time,” Grisha said cheerfully.

“Is this really necessary?” Zeke asked, surveying the situation.

“Do you doubt me?” Grisha asked.

Zeke nervously scratched behind his ear. “No.”

He took a seat on the floor near the door and stared at his feet much like Eren did. You wanted to scream, but you were frozen by God’s apparent will. The men continued their chorus of “I saw you” and proceeded to accuse you of other minor offenses you never committed. Every so often you denied the accusations, but after a while your mind began to slip. Had you given a lusty stare to someone? You couldn’t be sure anymore.

“I did it,” you finally said dejectedly. “All of it.”

The men removed their hands and went back to their seats. Grisha sighed and returned to the pulpit.

“Don’t you feel better now? Don’t you feel cleansed?”

You mindlessly nodded.

“Did you finally let the Lord into your hideous heart?”

Again, you nodded. The service ended with little fanfare and everyone left quickly. You found yourself tethered to your seat, unable to move lest you be accused of heresy. Eren remained as well.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered.

“No. You’re not… But it’s fine.”

“It’s not fine.”

“Well then why didn’t you help me? You were right there.”

“I don’t know.”

“Is it because I deserve it? Am I that bad?”

“No.”

“Then why did they do that to me?!” You shouted.

“I don’t kn—”

“You don’t seem to know anything, brother.”

“I said I was sorry.”

“Sorry doesn’t mean shit!” Tears welled up in your eyes and your throat burned from yelling after being so quiet. “I… Fuck!”

You kicked the pew in front of you. You didn’t know what to do. Eren probably was sorry. He probably didn’t have much pull over Grisha. What could he have done? You knew you were innocent; none of those sins were yours. The parishioners hadn’t even brought up your daliences with Grisha. Though it’s not like they’d have any information that would make the pastor look bad.

“I don’t think this will make you feel any better. But it’s happened to me a lot. I know how it feels.”

He scooched closer to you and cleared his throat.

“My relationship with God is complicated. It has been since my mom died.”

“That doesn’t make me feel sorry for you,” you hissed. “Everyone has a complicated relationship with God.”

He kept talking. “It usually goes longer. The last time it happened to me it was two hours of getting told I was useless. A drug addict. One guy even called me the Antichrist which made my dad stop everything. He ended up punching him.”

“That’s horrible.”

“It sounds worse than it actually is, sister.”

You couldn’t imagine suffering through an hour consumed by hands laying upon you. You were angry Eren downplayed it, trying to act like it wasn’t all that bad. It was a horrific experience. Not one you’d ever want to return to. You stood up and walked away. You didn’t bother saying goodbye to Eren. He was too lost in his own mind.

Once outside you saw Zeke standing near the edge of the cliff smoking as usual. You made your way over to him. The sunlight danced behind low hanging clouds, occasionally illuminating him in a heavenly way. Instead of the usual scowl, he gave a solemn, “Hello.”

You hated how much he looked like his father. It made you want to be mean to him.

“Are you alright?” He asked, taking a drag off his cigarette.

“I guess. I don’t know. I can’t tell yet.”

“Ah, yeah. That’s the worst part. Don’t worry,” he said, stretching his arms. “You’ll realize how awful it was when you’re trying to sleep tonight.”

You were already plotting how to induce insomnia. Zeke placed his hand on your shoulder. You were too exhausted to flinch. He took a few steps closer until you were finally in his arms, your face buried in his neck. He rubbed your back and you proceeded to sob. You felt silly for breaking down in a stranger’s arms, but Zeke was there. He was tangible, something you could hold onto.

His hands trailed down your back, resting them on your ass.

“Need a distraction?” His breath was hot against your ear.

You sniffled. You could feel his semi-hard cock through his pants.

“I guess. I—I have no idea how you could help me though,” you muttered dejectedly.

“Trust me, sister. I have plenty of ideas.”

He tightened his grip on your ass and rubbed his erection against you. You stared out over his shoulder at gentle waves licking the shore. You wanted to lose yourself in his broad-shouldered embrace.

“You can do whatever you want,” you mewled.

He let go of your ass and held onto your face by the jaw. His fingers were calloused, but the roughness of his touch was spirituous. He forced his leg between your thighs. He had a sick grin on his face. You tried to ignore it as you rubbed up against his leg. Instead you focused on how good his body felt on your clit. You dragged your throbbing cunt up and down his thigh, your breath hitching when the friction became too much.

He forced you to look him in the eyes as you pleasured yourself against him. You wanted to find kindness in his gaze but there was none, just lust. You started to unbutton his shirt while he hurriedly unzipped his pants. You kissed him, biting down on his bottom lip. He groaned and pulled away.

“No biting,” he chastised.

You frowned and lied down in the grass. You hiked up your dress, revealing your glistening folds. Zeke got on top of you, stroking his cock. It was girthy like his father’s, but more veiny and it lacked any sort of curve. You guided it inside you, watching Zeke’s reaction as he was greeted by your tight cunt. He looked so lecherous, so hungry for you.

“Oh God,” you moaned.

Zeke slowly thrusted; his cock filled your cunt. He stared down at you, eyes partially obscured by his glasses.

“How does that feel, sister?”

“Like heaven.”

“Ca—can I hit you?”

The idea of his hand gracing your face thrilled you to no end. You welcomed any sensation that would make you forget the numerous hands that had previously invaded your body.

“Please.”

His hand was swift across your face, leaving a stinging pain in its wake.

“Again,” you pleaded, stroking his cheek.

He was more than happy to oblige. He thrusted his cock deeper inside you and slapped you again. You pulled him into a kiss, pushing your tongue past his teeth. His tongue tasted of tobacco. The woody, sour taste overtook your mouth.

His hands roaming your body was a blessing. His touch healed the wounds left behind the parishioners. You never wanted to let him go. Your fingers were tangled in his soft, flaxen hair. You twirled a lock in between your fingers and tugged on it. He let out a muted yelp you soon swallowed. He broke the kiss, panting as he bottomed out. Your body writhed underneath his, swimming in the shadow of this saint.

“How does it feel, sister?” He asked, holding you down.

“Good,” you gasped.

He grabbed ahold of your jaw again, his grey eyes tunneling holes through yours. You wanted to live in his light, until your body rotted away into dust. You tightened your walls around him. He groaned, his hips bucking against your limp body. You were putty in his hands.

You slid his suspenders off and yanked down his pants. You held onto his plush ass, pulling him towards you so his cock kissed your cervix. His hips seemed to skip a beat as his cock leaked precum inside your cunt. A needy moan fell from his lips and he shut his eyes.

“Can I come inside you?” He quickly asked.

You eagerly nodded. He let out a few desperate whimpers as he drove his cock in you, your fluids intermingling. He was panting harder, his cheeks now a pretty pink. He bucked his hips as his cock shot cum into the depths of your cunt.

“Do you like that, sister?” He asked, fucking you harder.

“Yes,” you squealed.

Once he finished he slid his cock out of you and lowered himself down to your cunt. He lapped at the cum seeping out of it, tongue flicking your clit.

“Say my name when you come,” he ordered.

You dug your fingers into the grass as your body quivered. Zeke ran his hands up and down your legs as he sucked his cum out of you, the lurid noise harmonizing with the waves.

“Zeke,” you mewled as you saw white.

You felt like you were ascending as your body squirmed against his face, his beard tickling the inside of your thighs. You were too lost in your orgasm to hear the footsteps stomping through the grass. Zeke looked up at you, smiling. He rested his head on your thigh and sighed dreamily.

“Are you interested in doing anything else, sister?”

You ignored his question and posed your own. “Why were you jerking off while I was fucking your father?”

His gaze hardened.

“It’s not as if I was looking at him.” He kissed your thigh and took on a kinder tone. “It’s not our fault none of us know how to behave around women… It doesn’t help that we all have a sick crush on you.”

“How are you gonna solve that problem, huh?”

“I did talk to you first. If you belong to any of us, it’s me.”

“I don’t belong to any of you,” you said, unable to hide your disgust.

“Don’t you want to be mine?”

You rustled his hair. He was cute in a tragic sense. It was strange to see such a domineering man rendered down to an endearing puddle of goo. You alternated between wanting to toss him off the cliff, and marrying him.

You were ripped from your peace by the sound of rustling grass growing closer and closer. Zeke glanced up and his face fell. You craned your head back and saw Grisha standing there, clutching his worn down bible to his chest.

“How could you?” Grisha lamented; his question directed at you.

Zeke sat up and pulled your dress back down.

“Are you jealous?” He taunted.

Grisha glared at his son. Although Zeke’s expression was haughty, it had a tinge of uneasiness. It was warranted. The pastor launched his bible at his son, hitting him square in the nose. Blood seeped from it, staining his white shirt red.

“You’re going to hell for that,” Zeke said, covering his nose with his hand.

“Well I’ll see you there, you disgraceful whoremonger!”

You frowned at the notion of you being a whore. It was an accusation you never got used to. You weren’t chaste by any means, but this was the most action you had in awhile.

“Did you not lie with her too?” Zeke asked, standing up and stepping over you to get closer to his father. “I saw you. I bore witness.”

Grisha blushed, clearly horrified by this revelation. “I—I was saving her!”

“You have a really funny way of saving people then.”

You grew tired of their bickering. You found your underwear hiding amongst the cat grass and slipped them on. You bounded off to the path that led down to the beach. Neither of the men noticed you left.

The wind had calmed down, making the journey less precarious. You kicked off your shoes and dug your toes into the sand. Such a simple thing and yet it was the best you felt in years. You walked closer towards the ocean, digging your feet deeper into the sand with every step. Once the water licked your heels you swam out, submerging yourself in a mellow wave. You held your breath as it washed over you. You dove deeper as the currents pulled you further from the shore.

Salt water weaseled its way into your eyes, killing any sense of comfort you found in the lull of the waves. You let your body float to the surface. Resting on your back, you stared up at the overcast sky. You looked like a pathetic version of Ophelia, madness driving you out into the sea. It was hard to be serene while coughing. The salt burned your throat and left your tongue numb.

You were decidedly less glamorous than any Millais painting. But that didn’t matter. You couldn’t care less about how you appeared. Maybe this was pathetic. Maybe you were wading in madness. But was that a bad thing? You’d be in good company. Even Jesus’s family and followers thought he was insane on occasion, possessed by demons, riddled with paranoia. And yet he was a paragon of holiness, of a just life.

The sun peeked out from behind the low-hanging clouds, a little beam of sunlight bled through. The first you’d seen in awhile. It looked like glitter ebbing along with the waves.

“Nice,” you whispered.

Your phone rang constantly. You thought about blocking Grisha's number, but you wanted to hear the desperation in his voice and if he still thought he could save you. Much to your disappointment he never left a single voicemail.

Nothing seemed to completely sever the attachment you had to them. You thought about Zeke fucking you in a field constantly, though on occasion you imagined he was Eren. You found yourself missing the brunette. He was always nice to you. His only major misstep being that he didn’t help you when you were assaulted.

Twinges of resentment remained a plague. You knew Eren was just as much a victim as you. But there remained a pervasive sense of betrayal. It was such a strong feeling for someone you barely knew.

There was some relief knowing they were no closer to God than you.

Eventually one early Sunday morning, your curiosity got the better of you and you answered when Grisha called you for the umpteenth time. You reclined on your couch, watching Hope Springs Eternal’s live stream with the volume turned down.

“Did you call to jerk off to the sound of my voice?” You asked haughtily.

“What? No, sister. I’m not a pig.”

You were surprised to hear Eren’s voice.

“Oh… Hey? Why are you calling from your father’s phone?”

“Psh. My dad wishes he had his own phone. We all share the one in his office.”

“Okay. Uh, what’s up? Did something happen?”

He sighed. “No. I just miss talking to you.”

“I’m sure there are other parishioners to talk to.”

Eren paused. “Actually there aren’t any. My dad stopped opening up service to the public and kicked everyone out. We just do the TV thing now.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know. Last Sunday he said something about someone taking his lamb to the slaughter? And how he is not fit to be a shepherd because he tasted the waters of Babylon. I tried asking him about it, but he didn’t want me to bear his burden which I appreciate. But on the other hand, I’d like to know what the fuck is going on.”

You knitted your brow and asked, “How’s Zeke?”

“A disaster. He smokes inside now. I can’t remember the last time I saw him with a shirt on. And he’s been asking me for weed which is… I don’t mind sharing, but my tolerance is high. It takes a lot to calm this mess down.” He punctuated his sentence with a soft chuckle. “Also he films dad at a Dutch angle. I don’t know, sister. It’s all bad.”

You wanted to hug him, hold him close and like a vice.

“I guess I can stop by, if you want.”

“Really? You’d be down?”

“As long as I don’t see your father, I don’t mind. He’ll be busy preaching, right?”

“Yup!”

“I’ll see you in a few then.”

“Wow. Really? It’s okay if you don’t want to.”

You assured Eren it was no problem and hung up.

Looking through your wardrobe, you hated yourself for getting rid of all your secular clothing. You burned it all in a religious fury, replacing everything with long dresses, with high necklines accentuated with oversized collars, and long sleeves. Your most plain one was still stiff with ocean water. You ended up settling on one in your favorite color.

When you arrived you expected the church to be in ruins. It was a rather hyperbolic thought. But given what Eren told you, your mind felt free to wander down darkened paths. You didn’t dare approach the church proper, instead heading for the back door of the parsonage.

The tide was low, the stench ever present. You dry heaved every couple seconds. You stepped closer to the cliff and saw the rotting carcasses of fish. You hadn’t heard anything about a major die off. You pinched your nostrils shut and swallowed the spit collecting in your mouth.

“It’s gross, ain’t it?” Eren said, walking over to you. “Let’s get inside.”

He held the door open for you and shut it tight. The sound of door slamming made you jump.

“I’m sorry. I’m tryna keep the smell out as best I can,” he said sheepishly.

“It’s okay. I’d rather you be aggressive towards inanimate objects than smell death.”

“You want coffee? I just made a pot. Or do you like tea? I can make tea. Or we can have both. Best of both worlds. Like Hannah Montana,” he rattled off nervously. He shut his eyes tight and sighed deeply, very much aware of how silly he sounded.

“Coffee is fine.”

“How do you take it?”

You explained in great detail how you like your coffee. Eren was shaky and needed the specificities even if your request was on the simpler side. You took a seat at the dining table, one he clearly built. He carefully prepared your cup and placed it in front of you with a very prideful grin on his face. You thanked him and took a sip. It was perfect.

You wasted no time and started to question Eren on the current state of the church the moment he sat at the table.

“Pastor Grisha kicked everyone out?”

Eren winced, hearing you call his father that.

He took a sip of his coffee. “Yeah. He won’t tell me anything though. He does his sermons and then he spends the rest of his time in his office, muttering weird shit like ‘Where did I go wrong?’ and ‘He slaughtered my little lamb.’’

You snicked. “He’s talking about me.”

“What makes you so sure, sister?”

“I fucked your father, brother.”

“I know,” he answered casually.

“And I fucked your brother. Your father caught us in the little clearing by the cliff.”

“I told Zeke not to do that.” Eren said, the vibrancy of his eyes completely dulled.

“You knew?”

“Duh.. He’s my brother. I know everything about him.”

“Did he tell you he jerked off while your dad fucked me?”

“Unfortunately. He… He was desperate and he really likes you. I’m not saying it was right. He’s got some shit to work through.”

“You really care about him, huh?”

“Why wouldn’t I, sister? I love him,” he said cheerfully.

“Where is he?”

“Probably asleep. Service doesn’t start for another hour and a half.”

“I’m very much awake,” his voice boomed from down the hall.

He stepped out of his room clothes in only a tiny pair of grey underwear that left little to the imagination. His back was covered in spindly welts. He had no shame, not an inkling of it. He sauntered into the room and took a seat next to Eren. He glanced back and forth at the two of you. A skimpy joint was tucked behind his ear.

“What’s she doing here?” He asked Eren.

“You can ask her yourself. She’s right there.”

Zeke turned his attention towards you. “Who invited you?”

Eren groaned. “I did. I wanted to hang out with her.”

“Oh yeah, I’m sure you’re just ‘hanging out.’” He said, laughing.

“I have no one to talk to! Dad's on the path to being one of those embarrassing street preachers that scream about the end of days. And you never wear clothes and only ever talk to me when you want weed!”

“Do you need a hug?” Zeke asked, his tone comically serious.

“What?! No. Go put pants on.”

“Fine. I’ll conform, if that’ll calm your ass down,” he said.

“Is he high?” You asked.

“Terminally.”

You mouthed a “wow”.

“I can’t decide what pants,” he yelled down the hall. “Come help me.”

Eren sighed. “Let’s humor him.”

The two of you made your way to Zeke’s room. It was rather barren. He had a nice sized bed, with crisp white sheets and a turmeric colored quilt folded at the foot of it. He had a small desk made from birch wood stained a muted black. The chair was the same, though a small pillow softened the seat. His closet door rested on the ground. Zeke explained it fell off the hinges and didn’t care enough to fix it. His room looked like something out of the past. The only modern thing in it was the camera equipment.

Eren frowned and lightly kicked Zeke’s broken door.

“I said I would fix this for you, dumb ass.”

“You’re so cruel. Now! Let’s get down to business.”

He grabbed a lighter off his desk and lit the joint he had behind his ear.

“What about the pants?” You asked, trying not to stare at his cock.

“The what?” He waved his hand as if that made the previous conversation disappear. “Who cares? Here, take a hit.”

“I’m okay,” you demurred.

“Aw, come on? Do you not like me anymore?”

You rolled your eyes. “No. I just feel like getting high in a parsonage goes against God’s will.”

He patted your head and passed the joint to Eren. Zeke sat down on his bed and gestured for you to join him. Briefly you resisted but he was too handsome and too willing. Maybe it was God’s will for you to merely sit beside him.

Eren took a seat next to you while puffing on the joint hanging from his lips. He passed it back to Zeke.

“I’m good for now,” he relayed.

Zeke stubbed the joint out in an ashtray and opened a window to let the smoke air out. The haze that had once permeated the room slowly ebbed out into the cold wind. You tried to focus on that instead of Zeke’s cock which appeared to be a little stiff.

“I know you’re looking, sister.”

“I am not!”

Eren laughed. “If you want I can, uh, leave you two alone.”

“No way. I’m here to see you, remember?”

Zeke rested his head on your shoulder.

“What are you saying? You don’t want to see me?”

You rustled his hair. “No. That’s hardly what I meant.”

Eren wrapped his arm around you, pulling you close to him. There was a territorial tinge to his eyes. You struggled to stifle your laughter. All of the men in this family seemed to be desperate for your attention, even Eren who on occasion seemed like a normal guy.

Zeke looked over at Eren and narrowed his eyes.

“Are you jealous I found my way to her before you?”

“Are you jealous that dad fucked her first?”

Zeke scowled. You sighed deeply and tried to ignore your attraction to them. It was a thankless task.

“Do you want to lay with me, brother?” You asked on the verge of hysterics, playing up the religious pleasantries.

Eren blushed.

“He does,” Zeke said as he sprawled out across your lap. “He told me.”

Eren was staring out across the room, desperately trying to ignore Zeke and you.

“Is that true?”

He ran his hands through his long, dark hair, the silky tendrils finding their way between his fingers.

“Yeah. Happy?”

You gazed at Eren. Your vision blurred around him; he was all you could focus on. You carefully slipped your hand under his suspenders and ran it down one of his pecs. He shivered at your touch. You rubbed his delicate nipple with your thumb.

“Get on top of him,” Zeke suggested, his head in your lap. “I’ll eat your ass if you do it, sister.”

Eren’s eyes widened. The prospect of Zeke eating your ass was very appealing. As you went to straddle Eren, Zeke grabbed your shoulder.

“Not here. The office.”

“What?! No,” you exclaimed.

“Would it make you feel dirty because that’s where you fucked our father?”

“What if he catches us?” You panicked.

“Don’t worry about it. Your brother isn’t going to let anything bad happen to you, okay?” Zeke cooed.

Eren fake gagged and corralled you into Grisha’s office. Zeke’s words did not set you at ease.

You and Zeke took a seat on the couch. He rambled on about how Pastor Grisha now ended every sermon with “Jesus wept.” Eren took off his suspenders and his pants, folding them up neatly. He stood still for a moment, caught up in his own thoughts. You were getting impatient listening to Zeke ramble on. Your desire to fuck Eren was unbearable. All your attention was focused on him.

“Alright. I’m rea—Jesus Christ! Show some restraint!” Eren shouted.

You looked over at Zeke who at some point took off his underwear. He had a smug grin on his face. His cock was standing straight up, veiny and thick as ever. He was raring to go and you hadn’t even noticed.

“I don’t like to waste time,” he responded.

You and Eren both were a little perturbed, but not enough to turn back. Lust flooded your core; you could feel it bubbling up your throat. Zeke’s cock demanded your attention, the tip of it like a red beacon. You leaned in a little closer to him and cupped his balls, squeezing them with your gentle touch. You rubbed them, your grip tightening. Zeke exhaled and lazily threw his head back, eyes shut with pleasure. He beamed; you didn’t realize he was capable of such contentment.

“I’ll let Eren fuck you first, considering I already blessed you with my seed.”

“More like you filled her with your dirt,” Eren groused.

“Just let me have this,” Zeke complained.

If you weren’t so turned on, you would have stood up and walked out the door. But you were hopelessly tethered to them, your body devoted to their light. The holiness you perceived in them made it okay.

Eren gazed at you, his eyes as fertile as a verdant field. He held out his hand which you took and walked to his father’s desk. He kicked his father’s belongings off and gestured for you to sit on it. You happily obeyed. Your total willingness made him nervous. His hands quaked as he lifted your dress and peeled off your underwear.

“Over here,” Zeke said, holding his hand up.

Eren balled up your underwear and beaned them at Zeke’s face. Zeke didn’t seem to care and took an audible whiff. Eren gripped your hips and pulled you closer to the edge of the desk. He swiped his fingers against your cunt, coating them with your fluids.

“Open wide.”

You parted your lips and sucked them clean, running your tongue along the pads of his fingers. Your cunt throbbed, aching for his touch. He spread apart your labia and ran his cock down your slit. You whimpered as he slowly plunged it inside you.

“You guys are boring,” Zeke heckled. “She’d be ruined by now if I was fucking her.”

Eren let out an annoyed groan and started to thrust. Zeke reclined on the couch, happily watching the two of you. Eren grunted as your cunt hugged around him. His movements were slow and precise, lacking any of the urgency Zeke or Grisha’s had. You wondered if he was more experienced. You thought about him fucking his way through town, not a person untouched. He was certainly handsome enough.

“Pick up the pace,” Zeke said, stroking his cock.

Eren gritted his teeth. “For the love of God, please shut up. I’m begging you.”

“I’m getting bored though. I want to hear her squeal.”

“It’s not about what you want.” Eren turned his attention towards you. “Right?”

You nodded. Zeke sighed audibly and absent mindedly stroked his cock. You couldn’t help but stare; you wanted it in your mouth.

Eren took notice and began to fuck you harder, the length of his cock consuming your cunt.

“Don’t look at him,” he sneered, grabbing a hold of your face with his free hand. “Open your mouth again.”

You did as you were told. Eren spat directly in your mouth, the action full of derision. His saliva was sweet, tinged with coffee and citrus. He glared down at you and held you by the neck, his palm barely grazing your throat. His touch was gentle unlike his gaze. He clenched his jaw and thrust into you, groaning as he bottomed out. He erupted into a symphony of grunts and moans. His long hair hung in his face and he tried to tuck it behind his ear with no luck.

You heard Zeke laugh and get up off the couch, walking over. Zeke positioned himself behind Eren and reached over his shoulders to tuck his hair behind his ear.

“You looked like you were struggling,” Zeke cooed.

Eren let go of your throat and looked over his shoulder, mildly perturbed, and nodded.

“Why do you still have your shirt on, puritan?” Zeke coyly asked, as he started to unbutton it.

“You’re pushing your luck,” Eren grunted as he drove his cock into you.

Zeke snickered and helped Eren take off his button-down.

“Now it’s a party!” He cheered, resting his head on his brother’s shoulder.

Zeke gazed down at you, the weight of his body pressed up against Eren. You were a panting mess and tried to cover your face. Your shame always got the best of you. After all, you were a Christian. The brothers loved every second of it. Your whines and sighs were their favorite hymns. Zeke grabbed your hips and pulled you closer to Eren.

“Ow!” You yelped as Eren’s cock collided into your cervix.

You gazed up at the men lording over you, their eyes devouring every inch of you like a couple of jackals.

“I’m having a hard time focusing with your cock wedged between my ass,” Eren mumbled.

“Is it too weird?” Zeke asked, backing away.

“I have an idea,” you said, pulling Eren’s cock out of you.

You sat up and gestured for Zeke to sit behind you. He happily got up on the desk and sat behind you. You nestled in between his legs, letting his cock rest up against the small of your back.

“Why do you still have this on?” Zeke murmured in your ear.

His dexterity was impressive; he managed to quickly undo all the little buttons on your dress and pulled it over your head. You could feel his heaving chest up against your back, the hair tickling your spine. Eren unhooked your bra and tossed it to the side. He guided his cock back inside your weeping cunt and began to thrust.

“That feel good?” Eren grunted.

“Y—yes,” you choked out. “So good.”

Zeke groped your breasts, tweaking your nipples in between his rough fingers. Eren gave a smoldering glare to Zeke.

“What is it, brother?” Zeke asked sarcastically. “Did you want her all to yourself?”

Eren continued to force his length into your tormented cunt. He was blushing, still glaring at Zeke. His lush brown locks hung in his face. He almost looked like Jesus. Zeke went to speak, his eyebrows knitted with concern, but Eren interrupted him with a rough kiss, ripe with insatiable yearning. He continued to thrust wildly, delving his cock into your dripping cunt. Eren was close. His moans obscured by the kiss. Zeke pulled away and cleared his throat. You managed to catch a glimpse of his beet red face as you felt a spurt of warm fluid on your back.

“Sorry, sister,” he murmured.

Eren’s balls clapped up against your taint as he pounded away. Your body tensed up in anticipation of your orgasm. Eren’s cock filled every inch of your cunt, stretching it out as his hips grinded up against you. Your skin felt like it had electricity running through it, the Holy Spirit imbuing you with its light. Your body contorted in rapture as your vision faded. All you saw was light. You felt like God Himself.

Zeke lazily started to rub your clit, lubricating his finger with your fluids, which sent you to the brink. You were entrenched in ecstasy as your orgasm crashed over you. You tried to speak but all you could do was babble, the only coherent sound being you sputtering out Eren’s name.

Eren smirked and slowed down his pace, becoming more deliberate with his thrusts.

“You’re so fuckin’ tight,” he moaned.

He tossed his head back and filled you with his warm, milky cum. His hips bucked a few more times before he slumped forward, resting his head on your shoulder. You kissed the top of his head.

“I wanna worship you both,” you said breathily.

“Oh yeah?” Zeke asked.

Eren chuckled. “How do you plan on doing such a thing, sister?”

“Come down my throat.”

Zeke tumbled off the desk and quickly got to his feet. Eren helped you off and stood next to his brother. You got on your knees and gazed up at them. They were regal and beautiful, painfully so. You could bask in their presence for ages and never tire of it. Eren met your gaze and smiled. He stroked your cheek.

“Need some help?” Zeke asked Eren, pointing at his semi-hard cock.

Eren’s eyes widened.

“It’s cool if you don’t! I just thought since… You do realize you kissed me, right?”

Eren huffed. “Yes! I was hoping dad would walk in.”

“It’d really ruin him if he caught me jerking you off, especially so close to his precious, little lamb.”

Zeke had the mind of a demon. It disturbed you to no end, but it was just as alluring. Both of the brothers were blushing, their chests as pink as their cheeks. Eren looked down at you for guidance.

“Let him help,” you replied.

Your tone was marred with shame. You were still scared by the sin of it all, but traumatizing Pastor Grisha had its appeal after everything he had done. You needed your wanton desires to triumph, to horrify the holy man.

Eren let out a muted moan as Zeke gripped his cock. You eagerly watched as Zeke squeezed the length of it. Eren’s expression exuded an alluring agony. You lapped at his balls as Zeke hesitantly jerked him off. You rolled your tongue along the raphe, relishing in his rapturous groans. You flicked Eren’s aching cock with your tongue like a serpent.

Eren’s body relaxed a little, his shoulders not held as high. You sucked on his cock, savoring the precum dribbling from it. You worked in tandem with Zeke until Eren’s cock was throbbing and glistening with precum and spit.

“That wasn’t so bad, was it?” Zeke asked. “I’m not playing coy. Was that okay?”

“I guess,” Eren mumbled. “Yeah.”

“Let’s just think of it as a really fun Eucharist,” Zeke replied, hip checking his brother.

You stared up at Eren and Zeke, eager to service them. You took Zeke’s cock in your mouth and swirled your tongue around the tip. He patted your head as you sucked. Drool trickled from the corners of your mouth. Eren watched intently and stepped closer to you, his erection demanding your attention. You caressed it with a tender touch. His verdant gaze fixed on you, heavy with ardor. No one had ever looked at you like that before.

You released Zeke’s cock from your mouth and masturbated him using your free hand. Zeke’s gaze matched Eren’s, his grey eyes boring holes through yours. You beckoned them to stand closer together and frotted their cocks, suckling on the tips in between jerking them off.

The sound of heavy footsteps ripped you from your debauched trance.

“Did you hear that? I think I heard—”

“Suck us off at the same time,” Zeke pleaded.

Eren nervously looked to the side, but gave you a nod. You resumed holding their cocks together and eased them into your mouth. You felt like the corners of your mouth were going to tear as you struggled to fit them in.

“Atta girl,” Zeke purred.

The footsteps grew nearer.

“Boys? We ought to start service,” you heard Grisha call out.

“Zeke,” Eren muttered.

“Hm?” He said as he watched as tears ran down your cheeks.

Eren cupped Zeke’s face in his hands and kissed him as the knob of the door jiggled. It was ripe with desperation like the previous one. Eren bit down on Zeke’s bottom lip. Your cunt throbbed at the sight. You gagged and took their cocks out of your mouth, opting instead to jerk them off.

Grisha opened the door and stepped inside. He let out a little sigh before he noticed the depravity taking place.

“Oh God, no!”.

Eren laughed, breaking the kiss.

“Why? Why would you do this?!”

You lapped at Eren and Zeke’s cock, relishing in the pained shouts coming from the pastor. Zeke bucked his hips against your fist, fucking it furiously.

“Give me an answer! What did I do to either of you to deserve this?!”

The brothers ignored his cries. Zeke nuzzled his face into Eren’s neck and rubbed the back of your head.

“I’m close,” he whimpered. “Can I come on your face, sister?”

You nodded with a big smile on your face.

“How could you do this?” Grisha asked dejectedly, holding your gaze.

You didn’t answer. Grisha was of little importance. All you cared about were his sons.

“Sorry, father,” Zeke moaned as ropes of cum splattered across your cheeks.

“I—I raised you better than this!”

Eren clenched his fist while his erection dwindled.

“I don’t think you did,” Eren replied.

Grisha was stunned. “Excuse me?”

You let go of Eren’s cock and tried to wipe away Zeke’s cum with the back of your hand. You only proceeded to make a bigger mess. Zeke got to his knees and licked the remnants off your face.

“Look at us,” Eren said. “Zeke’s been convinced he’s going to Hell since he was four years old.”

“That has nothing to do with me! I never once told him such a thing.”

“It was implied,” Zeke whispered.

Eren was undeterred. “Did you know he flagellates himself? Or do you just not pay attention to the blood stains on the backs of his shirts?”

“I can’t be aware of every little thing that goes on, Eren. You… You could have told me!”

“And what good would that have done? Would you’ve cleaned his wounds at two in the morning? Let him sob in bed with you until sunrise?”

Zeke’s eyes had glazed over, not a hint of light to them.

“I… I d—don’t know,” the pastor sputtered.

“Exactly,” Eren laughed. “See, I didn’t even have to think about it. And you know what’s really fucked up? I didn’t learn that from you.”

“Eren, I…”

“And it’s not like I came out of this unscathed! Why do you think I’m high all the fucking time? I can’t deal with the overwhelming guilt an—and shame for not being whatever it is you wanted me to be.”

You wanted to run out of the office and leave everything behind. The situation was too much to bear. Eren’s rage, Zeke’s dissociation, the fact the three of you were still naked.

“I’m… going to go,” Zeke said suddenly.

He stood up and breezed past his father like he wasn’t even there. You remained a distressed heap on the floor.

“Eren, I’m sorry,” Grisha whispered.

“Oh my God,” Eren laughed again. “No. No, you’re not.”

Grisha’s face fell and he turned his attention towards you. You were to bear the brunt of his discontent.

“This is your doing, isn’t it?”

“Don’t try to pin this on her. She was just a catalyst.”

Grisha shook his head, resuming his previous pathetic visage. “My son, what can I do to make this right?”

Eren held out his hand to you and helped you up. You quickly found your dress and yanked it over your head.

“Nothing. You fucked up,” he responded, getting dressed. “You might as well find some poor woman to bear you a new son. Maybe you won’t fuck him up though you never seemed like the learning type.”

Eren led you past Grisha and out of the office.

“I know this is asking a lot, but could I stay with you for a bit?” Eren asked matter-of-factly.

You tried to shake yourself from your daze. Grisha’s words still haunted you.

“My apartment’s kinda small, but sure?”

“Thank you. I’m gonna go grab some stuff and then we can head out.”

Eren left you in the foyer to grab his keys from his room. Grisha approached you, desperate to convince you to stay with him.

“My precious lamb—”

“Don’t.”

“Please, I want to explain.”

“Stop talking to her,” Eren called out, pulling on a jacket.

Grisha glared at him momentarily before sighing and walking off. You didn’t think he’d give up on you so quickly. It was strange to see him so subdued and broken. You felt a twinge of sympathy, but it was gone as fast as it came. Grisha didn’t deserve any goodwill.

“You’ll be back,” he murmured, stepping into his office and slamming the door shut.

Eren and you set off for his car and hopped inside. It was a boring sedan, an older model from the early 90s, and it reeked of marijuana. He put his keys in the ignition as a smile crossed his face.

“You alright?” You asked.

He started the car and drove away from the parsonage, a few tears fell from his eyes.

“Yeah. It… It was a long time coming, but honestly I have no idea what I’m gonna do now.”

“We carry similar burdens. We can figure it out together.”

You liked the idea of healing with Eren, growing past your oppressive Christian upbringings and seeing the world anew. He rested his hand on your thigh and looked in his rear-view mirror.

“Is that?” He said, his green eyes popping out of his head.

It was Zeke, hauling ass after the car. He was sprinting like he was competing for a spot in the Summer Olympics. His form was astounding. He always looked like an athlete.

“Oh shit,” Eren said, stifling a laugh. “Hold on.”

He pulled over and waited until Zeke tapped on the window. Eren unlocked the car and Zeke crawled into the backseat. His shirt was barely buttoned and his fly was down. His flaxen hair was more askew than usual.

“I can’t believe you were going to leave me,” he said, catching his breath.

“You wandered off! I didn’t know where you went.” Eren scrambled for the right words. “I—I would’ve called you.”

“How? I don’t have a phone and neither do you.”

“Well, you’re here with us now and that’s all that matters,” you said, trying to settle the brothers down.

It seemed to work. Zeke exhaled and rested his head on the window, gazing out into the ocean. You weren’t sure how you’d make this all work. Your apartment had a single bedroom and not much space for two grown men, but you were determined to make it work. After everything you all had been through it was crucial you remained together, at least until the wounds healed. And the stinging guilt of turning your back on Pastor Grisha and God subsided.

“This is gonna sound kinda stupid, but… I don’t know what I would have done without you guys. I felt lost for so long. Going to church and hating myself for not being the most pious person. Getting wrapped up in your father’s crap. But you, uh, you both changed that. You saved me.” You tacked on a nervous laugh. “Somehow.”

The car fell silent and you felt silly for making such a claim.

Eren broke the silence. “We saved each other.”

#zeke yeager x reader #eren yeager x reader #grisha yeager x reader #zeke jaeger x reader #eren jaeger x reader #grisha jaeger x reader #snk smut #aot smut #attack on titan smut #shingeki no kyojin smut #aot x reader #snk x reader #x reader #reader insert #.fics #.aot #.zeke #.eren #.grisha

[apprenticestanheight]

ok so it’s like kinda fluffy but it doesn’t have to be but. lawrence comes over to adam’s apartment while he’s smoking weed and they get high together for the first time. kinda cringe but i wanted to put it out there i think it could be good

Chainshippings first time smoking together hcs

Hi! Did it as headcanons because it just makes a bit more sense to it like that in my head, which I hope is okay!

Fic type- fluff!!

Warnings- this is an AU where adam survives the events of the first saw movie so his and lawrences trap is mentioned a couple of times, as is his shot wound and pain related to it, a couple mentions of ptsd/indications that Adam has to distract himself to keep from thinking about the trap after he's escaped it

Months after the events of their trap, Adam and Lawrence find themselves in veeeeeery different spots

Adam is still doing his thing as a photographer, but instead of doing it freelance he works for a pretty reputable news network as a photojournalist.

He also does auto repair work for a decent enough buck on the side because he's decent at it--his own car wasn't in very good shape before Jigsaw tested him, and after he survived he taught himself how to do the repairs his car needed rather than taking it to an auto shop because he needed the distraction that learning how to fix his car and then fixing it provided.

He's got PTSD and his shoulder is in pretty consistent pain in the aftermath of the surgery they did to get the bullet out, but by all accounts he's mostly okay.

He gets himself into therapy at the insistence of a coworker and because he knows it'll do him even just a tad bit of good, and whenever it gets too much he smokes to relax.

Lawrence, however, is in a different spot. He and Allison are divorced, he's living in the home he thought he'd raise his kids and grow old in by himself, and he's still trying to get used to using a prosthetic foot and readjusting to work in that process.

Lawrence doesn't really give himself that kind of an outlet--he hardly has the time, working double and triple shifts, going to physical therapy and debating seeing a therapist to help him heal the damage done to his mind in the aftermath of his escape.

His outlet is busying himself so that he doesn't have to think, overworking himself to the point of exhaustion so that he doesn't go and see Adam and apologize for shooting him and leaving him to die.

BUT THEN, the two see each other while Adam is out and about, taking a photo he needs of some trashy festival for a puff piece while Lawrence is headed to a physical therapy appointment.

Adam just sees him and goes "Lawrence! Hi! How've you been?"

Thirty minutes go by and Lawrence has to speed walk to his appointment to make sure he's not late, he has to find someone to cover his shift at the hospital, and Adam has invited him to his new place so that the two can get high and watch the constellations.

The funny part? They're two complete opposites--in the time that Lawrence is all "what should I wear?? WHAT DOES ONE WEAR WHEN ONE SMOKES WEED?"

Adam is just like "Black cargo pants and a white t-shirt seems good enough," and then he goes and gets the joints ready and opens the window so that they can sit on the steps of his fire escape.

In the end, Lawrence decides to keep it as cool as an uptight-seeming oncologist can manage--a pair of well-loved adidas joggers that he's owned for roughly a decade and a hoodie from the days of his internship at the hospital.

He buys a couple of snacks from a local supermarket in case either of them get hungry and shows up at the exact time Adam recommended he come around--just in time for the sunset, so that they'll be able to go outside and sit on the fire escape to smoke, with the high kicking in as the sunset gives way to a dark sky full of stars.

Adam opens the door and grins, invites Lawrence in and approaches the coffee table, where a tray with four joints on it waits. Adam picks it up and turns back to Lawrence.

"Nice place," Lawrence says, hating the small talk but not knowing how, exactly, to get past it. "Are you still freelance?"

"I've been working as a photojournalist for three months now, and I do a bit of auto repair on the side. The stable paycheck is nice, I will admit, and this spot is a definite upgrade," Adam says, gesturing at the bag of snacks Lawrence holds in one hand. "C'mon--we'll smoke on the fire escape and then eat those when the munchies kick in."

Lawrence follows Adams lead and the two sit on the fire escape.

Lawrence watches Adam light one of the joints as he sets the tray he'd taken from the coffee table in front of them, almost entranced as he watches Adam take a puff before passing the joint Lawrences way

Lawrences first puff goes...about as well as it can for someone who's never smoked before??

He breathes the wrong way and ends up coughing instead of exhaling the smoke, and Adam ends up laughing as he claps Lawrences back.

"Inhale the smoke, give it a second, exhale," Adam says. "I'm sorry for laughing, it's just--I thought doctors tended to unwind with this stuff. Working a job like that and I would've jumped the gun from weed to xanax."

Lawrence gives an ungraceful laugh as he passes the joint back to Adam, watches him take a puff of it and when he takes the joint again, he takes a puff correctly.

Adam hollers, claps Lawrence on the back, and something unspoken passes between the two of them--it's like the time during which they were apart kind of...ceases to exist?

It's not as though they're back in the bathroom--both of them shudder at the thought, and while Adam never actually shows that side of him to anyone, every time a new Jigsaw victim is discovered he flinches where Lawrence just kind of sighs and hopes he doesn't get tested a second time for something as miniscule as what he hears one of the victims got tested for--smoking, drinking, anything that seems insignificant enough for him not to notice it

BUT the dynamic they had in the bathroom kind of returns? Adam is quipping and Lawrence is responding in kin--the only difference is that there's a lot more laughter and no edge of fear because of Jigsaws tape

Lawrence doesn't necessarily seem like very much of a lightweight to me so he's probably feeling it a joint and a half in, where Adam has been smoking since he was in high school so getting high probably takes him two joints?? three??

But he has a good laugh and pokes fun at Lawrence for being a lightweight as Lawrence breaks into the chips he'd brought.

Adam ends up smoking the last joint on the tray because he figures it'll help him sleep later, and the two of them watch the constellations while high out of their minds

They also clear out the snacks Lawrence bought and talk about anything and everything

Lawrence learns that Adams favorite subject to photograph is all of it--Adam grabs his camera that he uses for non-work related photography and shows it to Lawrence, and to Lawrences surprise there's a ton of variety.

There are photos of the world in motion--people walking down a crosswalk all blurry, the view of cars going down the highway during sunset, photos of stray cats laying on the ground or approaching Adam in search of affection.

There are photos of lakes and boats and cute dogs that Adam happened upon. There's a lot of variety to it and it's a variety that Lawrence didn't expect but appreciates

Lawrence eventually opens up about his life too--the divorce, work, the physical therapy.

He apologizes for shooting Adam after the guilt had been weighing down on him for months, and Adam accepts the apology by saying he probably would've done the same thing if their roles were reversed, but that the help he called eventually did show up and he was okay.

He made a point of not mentioning the shoulder pain so as to avoid causing Lawrence further upset, joked that he hadn't expected Lawrence to show up looking so casual but that it was a nice look on him and appropriate smoking attire

At some point, Adam realises that it's not feasible to let Lawrence go home as high as he is so the two of them just kind of...sit on the fire escape? Adam goes back into his apartment briefly to grab a couple of blankets and they fall asleep there, sharing a blanket with their backs to his window, their eyes on the sky

generally, they talk a lot and about stuff as mundane as the weather or stuff as deep as philosophy.

#adam stanheight x lawrence gordon #chainshipping #saw 2004

[amazingmsme]

NPMD SPOILER WARNING FOR ANYONE JUST SCROLLING BY! :]

okay so i have no clue how you feel about the au where after max was taken to the Black and white, things were sorta reversed and Richie and Ruth come back to life (basically like the tgwdlm au where everything is reversed when the meteor explodes)

but if you’re not like opposed to it, do you think that Ruth and Richie would get some comfort tickles to be shown everything is alright (including a bunch of hugs and tears and long talks and reassurance.) cause ruth was humiliated in her death and richie was implied to have an absolutely gruesome and violent death (with Sam puking when he saw the body and everything) so they’d definitely be a little messed up from everything

I gotta admit I’m a little out of touch with some of the popular au’s & headcanons in this fandom & most others because I just stick to the people I follow & I don’t venture into the tags very often, but I absolutely love these kinds of au’s!

There’s so many potential for au’s in Hatchetfield because it’s basically canon that there’s multiple timelines/universes, so technically anything can go!

I feel like they’d need a lot of therapy, but if they tried to talk about what actually happened the therapist would think they were legit insane, so that’s not really an option. Instead, they fall back on their friends who lived through these experiences. It’s the only place they feel safe enough to do so tbh

Pete, Steph & Grace are great listeners, & they all comfort them in their own ways, but the most important thing is just listening & being there to ground them. After the factory reset, Richie & Ruth are a lot more timid & sad than they used to be, which is to be expected. But that doesn’t mean their friends don’t try to help bring a smile to their face whenever possible. Pete will offer warm, comforting hugs & sneak in a few tickles to cheer them up after a much needed cry (something Ted would do for him after a rough day at school) & he’ll play video games with them in comfortable silence until they’re ready to talk again. After they come back, he’s not as mean of a ler as he used to be because he feels like they deserve to be handled with care. Steph on the other hand has the complete opposite tactic & thinks it would be worse to coddle them, so her techniques don’t change too much. She also prefers to comfort them by sharing music she thinks they’ll like & does the earbud sharing thing. Grace uses the opportunity to try & convert them, but she knows when she needs to be a friend & comfort them instead of their youth pastor. She actually gets pretty close with Ruth after all this. It takes longer than they would’ve liked, but things do return to some semblance of normal

All in all, I think Richie would handle the situation a bit better than Ruth just because he would make jokes about how he’s like an anime character now. “I’m just like Goku for real! :D”

I know it’s been a long time since I’ve written one, but au’s & crossovers really are my bread & butter I fucking love them! There’s infinite possibilities!

#asks #anon ask #npmd spoilers #npmd headcanons #npmd au #hatchetfield headcanon #ruth fleming #richie lipschitz #peter spankoffski #stephanie lauter #grace chasity #nerdy prudes must die #npmd

[cadrenebula]

While many of my characters tend to have some connection to another, these two had been created to be each other's opposites. Both coming from the same city but opposite ends. Lance being from the rich family with some power/influence and Alex from the bottom rungs of society. The Black Knight and the White Knight. (Yes Black Knight for Alexois. He was so very close to becoming a Dragoon at one point in his life. Yes he still kills people for money but he's selective now. They're usually rather bad people. So while he does bad things, it's usually for good reasons even if it's not the best option.)

Their friendship was fairly accidental. They'd both been through some very bad traumas. But neither had the same trauma either. Alex had suffered through many varying types of abuse growing up. Lance had survived the horrific events of the Steel Vigil and the verbal abuse of his own family. (I mean if you want the details, I can tell you privately. I don't like getting into their traumas too publicly without proper warnings.)

Their friendship helped them deal with their traumas. Not in healthy ways though of course. Neither of them really knew the best way to deal with what happened to them. Neither of them really cared at that point either. But they managed to survive by sticking together.

There have been a lot of events since then that threatened to end their friendship permanently. A few times it did look like there was no way back for them. Even now they're friendship is tentative at best. But it's taken time to find the right path for them.

Lance and Alex are definitely both in a bit of a healthier place since their first break in their friendship. Especially Lance though he still holds grudges and deals with some memory loss from a head injury. Lance however has a girlfriend that also does therapy. Alex still has a lot of work to do though he's gotten better than he used to be. Alex actually makes an effort not to be as much of an ass as he used to be.

Lance now lives with the Loches most of the time. Tara and her family pretty much adopted him and his little brother. Though Lothaire is still stuck with Mommy Aurifore in Ishgard for now. So he has a loving family besides his loving girlfriend, Kyna. Bran Loche even went to Ishgard with Lothaire to be his bodyguard till they can deal with Mother. So Lance can breath a little easier that his brother won't be harmed again so easily.

Alex managed to make a life for himself. He has Sanagi (his wife), a cat, and a best friend named Arik. Also two sisters (no blood relation) and a nephew (Valentin). He actually trusts a few people outside of his immediate circle now too. Like Renaux, Elynni, and Elliot. (Okay so he trusts the Loches too. But he'll deny trusting people anyways :P) Plus he now cooks as a hobby in his free time. Still needs to work on the baking though his favorite thing to bake are Deadmen Cookies. (Think Gingerbread Men but the icing on them makes them look like they're dead.)

The two of them are just starting to mend their friendship so it's still a bit rocky. Especially since Lance has to come to terms with the fact that Alexois is an assassin. It's hard for someone with Lance's moral code to just simply look the other way.

#Ramblings #Alexois Dubeltaire #Lancefer Aurifore #I don't often ramble about my own characters #But why not #These two have been in my head for days now #It's been interesting to explore such opposites and see if they can find a way to be friends despite it

[kaddyssammlung]

BPD / C-PTSD / bad relationship dynamics in Sleep Token lyrics - Part 1

Let's take another topic that I see in the lyrics and just take a closer look.

Of course it's something that I know from my life because it's the only stuff that I ever came up with so far.

Whatever.

So you guessed it: BPD / C-PTSD / strange relationship dynamics....

TW for general mental health stuff I guess

Fields of Elation

“Nobody else can pull me out”

That idealization that I sense in that.

To someone with BPD a partner or their child or anyone can be their perfect "one and only". They are perfect end of story. They can do nothing wrong. Ever!

So only they can pull him out.

“Your name is a sin I breathe, like oxygen”

And there goes the opposite. Either he is ashamed in some way of his feelings because no one else understands them or he has his doubts about weather someone is actually good for him or not.

I do see this as “splitting” or as I usually refer to it "black and white thinking". Someone is either everything to me or they are nothing meaning that they are dead to me. And yes this can change within seconds depending on what they are doing.

Don't reply to one of my text within a certain time? Dead to me! Reply in a nice way immediately: everything to me.

This is in the past btw.

Okay maybe I still have some of that in me. I should talk in the past tense. I'm afraid that at the end of this someone will say: yo...go to therapy again. I think you need it. I had enough of that. So...Idk...just thinking out loud.

When the Bough Breaks

“even when we run with death”

It makes me think about my ex-boyfriend and how we shared some unhealthy coping mechanisms. When your answer to your intense feelings is always something unhealthy and your partner shares that with you, it does not go very well. Let's leave it at that. (I said enough about SH and stuff like that...don't feel like bringing it up again)

Calcutta

“wrapped and quartered … missing pieces find me”

Reminds me of a feeling of not knowing who you are. I don't remember much of my childhood until I was about twelve. Everything is just gone. It's dissociated from me.

“I sweat and I ache for Your eyes and the way you breath … I'm whole again”

It reminds me of relying on someone else. Not in a normal extent but more in a way that you need others to define who you are. Like I said, I don't really know who I am so I crave the attention of someone else. Especially compliments. Maybe this is one of the reason why I liked dancing and standing on the stage so much. Standing there....looking into the crowd and their cheer you and applaud and we also got standing ovations quite often.

I feel like when it comes to BPD and the arts or movies and television or music then you will find many that have that. Idk...that's just my guess.

All of this attention from someone else and he feels whole again. I get that.

Nazareth

“and I'll see you when the wrath comes”

I'm someone who will choose anger over sadness. I recently learned that this is a typical male – BPD- trait. Okay?!

Anyway....that blind rage that used to take over. I don't miss this. Not even a second I would turn into a monster. Scream, slam doors, scream at myself, hit others....myself...mostly myself but yes things happened.....That was a long time ago.

The Way That You Were

“and you think I don't notice the way that you were”

Well...there is no version of myself that I can go back to. It's not like something happened when I was already a bit older. No...a lot happened and it began in early childhood. It's devastating.

“How much did they hurt you?”

idk...let's put an example in here. I was one of those babies who would just cry for hours. So my mother told me that she stopped taking my crying seriously. She thought I cried over nothing and just left me crying.

How can you build trust in other humans when you start out like that?

“and how much did they break you?”

Until I had no idea who I was...?!

“and how far did they take you?”

Let's just say that when your parents are not around much, and you also don't trust them then you open the door for someone with bad intentions.

This whole song just screams early trauma for me. But that's just my way of seeing this.

Jaws

“and why you're taking it slow show me what wounds you've got … show what you've lost”

I don't want to talk about that today. Let's just say trauma and also just read my pinned post and you know what I've lost.

I feel like putting this in here again, what Vessel said about Jaws:

“Our jaws are the tools we have to rend apart. They show our concealed aggression, and take something once hidden and burst it apart. You don't know someone until you have seen them destroy something. Jaws is an exploration of the frustration which accompanies the sense that someone close to you is hiding their true self.”

I have destroyed so many things, actual physical things but of course also so many relationships.

So I can just relate to what he is saying.

I have to prepare some stuff because of Easter and I guess I will continue this next week or when I feel like it. I have so much already anyway. If someone is bored you can klick here.

#sleep token #sleep token lyrics #actually bpd #bpd relatable #bpd recovery #bpd relationships #living with cptsd #tw mental illness #tw mental health #tw abuse

[blooming-violets]

I don't want you to think I'm critical of dancing on her own OK maybe I am but I'm not here to .....make your day worse just give my own two cents I'm glad that peter gets therapy and I'm glad you mention peter is extremely young during all of this it makes me a little bit more empathetic to see his side of the matter and while it's wonderful that our lady character is capable to forgive him despite all this shit he put her through I still don't think she should be romantically involved with him like ever it not that he doesn't deserve her and bla bla (though that is also a very valid point) it not healthy for either of them she has seen him as an escape from her abusive childhood and clung on to the one thing she sees as normal it's quite similar for him to keep her with him because of his abandonment issues maybe there is quite strong love there but is it strong enough to take away the fact that they both view each other as coping mechanisms ? Im also much more optimistic and I like to think if anyone was in th place of the oc would've cut out peter along time ago which is what I wanted for them to go on healing parts separately from one another and find themselves and each other along the way again that's what is my hc for this actually that she views Gabe as the last starw forces him to move out And gets the fuck away from this man whose cut her of from so fucking much just cause he can't stand to have someone else in her life that's so so shitty but then I'm not her I don't even know how I would react if I was put in this situation humans are so weird in this way we are all wired differently while we like to think we want to do something some way we might do the opposite I guess I'm one of those people who like the "but this is the right way to go about things" ending rather than gray ending that don't satisfy me but that's my problem maybe that's what makes this fic so good for me it forces me to confront how I feel about morally Gray characters and complex situations rather than conforming to this good Black and white ending we have something Strange though it is also happy ending just not the one I agree with so yeah....the point of all this is youre a great writer thanks for writing this and I hope peter gets all the therapy he can lives with knowing that he's a very very lucky man cause I would've kicked him out a long time ago. I'm going to go ahead of believing that they never ended up together romantically

Hahaha this made me chuckle because I thought I was bad at rambling, run-on sentences with zero punctuation but I think you have me beat! I need to go reread this line by line because it's so much and I love it. And I'm glad you have your own opinions on it! That's what makes writing fun to me is seeing everyone's different takes and sides and who identifies best with what part. I love discussing my work and other people's work that I love in detail. Sometimes I think too many people just throw out a "this was good!" and then bounce. I want to talk about stuff and hear people's deeper thoughts. Esp for a fic like this, I knew it would potentially be divisive.

When I write, the characters sort of are their own people and I'm just their puppet for them to put their stories on the page. I don't know how else to describe it but I have such a clear picture of who they are, what they do, and why they're doing it that they become their own little entity chillin up in my brain. So when I write, I can say "How would x react to y?" And then they sort of take over from there.

For this particular story, I had two very broken, traumatized people. You hit it perfect by saying they were each other's coping mechanism. She has literally never had another friend in her entire life besides Peter. That is not healthy! None of this relationship is healthy. It starts off with Peter protecting her from bullies, the first and only person in her life to ever stand up for her, so she basically imprints on him as her savior. She views him through rose colored glasses. Even when he's horrible to her, when she looks at him, she only sees that scrappy little boy from the first grade beating her bullies with a stick. She can't separate that image of Peter from the man he's grown up to be.

Peter, on the other hand, is so psychologically broken that he's just as bad (actually, he's worse). He's torn between wanting to always save her but not being able to know how/being too scared of failing/her actually not needing him. He doesn't know how to navigate being a super hero and the deaths that come with that and how to keep up healthy relations. You are absolutely right when you say it's not healthy! It's very much not. His depression also lead him down the path of becoming hardened, bitter, and mean. He emotions are frozen up still.

What's funny is that I don't actually view the ending as happy. It feels almost bittersweet to me. She had been waiting her whole life for Peter to love her how she wants. This is the first time he's expressed that out loud to her. She's been waiting for that kiss for so long that I don't think anything else mattered to her in that moment. She's blinded by her childhood dreams. Peter is blinded by his fear of losing her.

Technically this isn't the "end" also. I mean, it's the end of me writing the story but they would still live on in the fictional universe. I do think that she would lose her virginity to him eventually and I do think he would be really sweet about it. But as for them working out long term, I really don't know. The thing about therapy is that it slowly unveils stuff about yourself that you didn't realize over time. (I also don't think a therapist would encourage this relationship, both hers and his, I think they would tell them to hold off on it). I doubt they will listen, though, because I know these characters. They are going to try before they are ready. They are going to try to force things and I don't exactly see the best outcome for them.

For the ending, it's not exactly happy or a finality of what they will be. It's meant to be hopeful and nudged into the direction of healing but that's where it ends.

The rest is to up to you, my love! Envision their messy attempts at a relationship to fail. Envision her striking up a conversation with Gabe a year into the future and him inviting out to movie. Technically anything that happens after they go back home is up to the reader! It's out of my hands!

Final points because I've rambled far too long, the story wasn't meant to be about what is right but what would happen if you put two messy, traumatized humans together and forced them into different situations. They wouldn't make the right choices because they've never been taught anything different. All she's ever known is Peter so, therefore, all she's ever going to chose is Peter...until she works on that in therapy and, hopefully, finds her own self again and learns how to live without her crutch. For now, they recognize their love for the other, whatever form that takes and, for now, that will have to do because they don't know any other way of living. Bittersweet! Not happy.

Thank you for this ask though. It made me happy that someone could even care enough to feel anger on behalf of a character I wrote and want justice for them. All I want is for people to love the creatures in my head as much as I do.

#asks

[lilys-mental-health]

What It's Like Having Borderline Personality Disorder

I was diagnosed with borderline personality disorder (BPD) when I was 22. It was a diagnosis I was expecting, but what I wasn't expecting was the stigma around having BPD.

First, let me talk a little about what exactly BPD is. BPD is a mental health disorder that impacts the way you think about yourself and others, and the world around you. There can be quite a few causes such as chemical imbalances, genetics, or trauma.

What is BPD?

BPD causes you to have very intense emotions, fear of abandonment, and difficulty being alone. One of the ways I like to explain intense emotions is that for most people when you're sad, it's manageable. For people with BPD, sadness is the equivalent of grieving someone you loved. When angry, most people can just shake it off or think their way through it. For those with BPD, it's not just anger. It's rage. People with BPD have very black and white thinking. It's either good or bad. There is no in-between.

Now, this can cause a lot of hardships in relationships. Not just romantic, but friendships and familial. Even work relationships. However, despite these hardships, people with BPD are fully capable of having wonderful relationships. One of the stigmas surrounding BPD is that we're abusive and manipulative. This just simply isn't true. Are there people that fit this who have BPD? Of course, but the vast majority of us just want healthy relationships, and most of us are trying our hardest to get past this way of thinking.

BPD and Suicidal Thoughts:

One of the worst aspects of having BPD is suicidal thoughts. We could be having a great day and one small thing could just ruin our whole day. Sadly, a lot of time, this one small thing can cause a spiral that could end up with suicidal thoughts. A lot of people with BPD are hospitalized because of this. Being hospitalized is nothing to be ashamed of, however. We all need help and for some people, the best way to get that help is through the hospital.

Black and White Thinking

Like I said earlier in this article, people with BPD think in black and white. For instance, say someone looks at you differently than they normally would. Our brains can immediately go to "Oh no, they hate me now. What did I do? How do I fix this? Is there even a way to fix this? They just hate my guts. I can never fix this." However, on the opposite end, when someone does something nice for us or treats us well, our brains can latch onto that person because to us they're amazing and they can do no wrong. Which is partially to blame due to our fear of abandonment.

BPD and FPs

A term that is used a lot for BPD is FP. This means favorite person. As I said, we latch onto people. We usually find one person and they become our "favorite person". This means we want to spend all of our time with them, they can do nothing wrong, and we have an intense fear that they are going to leave us. A lot of recognize this as unhealthy behavior and we do our best to fix it. My FP has always been my fiance. I have worked very hard to not put him on a pedestal and to remind myself that he is human and he is going to make mistakes. I, also, have to remind myself that he's not going to just leave me. Just because we have our problems doesn't mean that he doesn't love me.

BPD and Stigmas

One stigma that is even used by doctors is that people with BPD are "treatment resistant". This isn't true and I'm living proof of it. 4 years ago, my BPD was rampant. Everything I've talked about above was true for me and was at 100 miles per hour. When I made the decision to see a therapist and psychiatrist, it was one of the best decisions I've ever made. Between therapy and medication, I have made amazing progress. Another type of therapy that helps BPD is DBT or dialectal behavioral therapy, which tries to recognize and change negative thinking patterns and pushes for positive changes instead.

Some people believe that people with BPD are dangerous due to their anger issues, or that they're prone to violence. Most of us are learning how to control our anger and to use positive coping methods to help prevent violent outbursts.

We're also thought of as lazy, irresponsible, or could easily get over the disorder if we just tried. We're constantly fighting a battle in our heads, so we can get tired very easily. It has nothing to do with us being lazy, but rather us being exhausted from fighting every day just to survive. As far as easily getting over this disorder, it's not simply a matter of exercise or eating better. Sure these things MIGHT make the symptoms a little easier, but it's not going to cure us. This is a lifelong disorder and we're just learning to cope with it.

Another one is that we're helpless. We are not helpless. We may need another person's help from time to time, but we fight our own battles in our heads by ourselves every single day. No one can help us when the fight is internal.

Conclusion

I hope this article has helped you to understand BPD more. I hope that if you know someone who has BPD, this has helped you to be more understanding and helpful towards them. I highly recommend doing your own research on this disorder so you may further help someone.

#mental health matters #mental health #bpd #borderline personality problems #borderling personality disorder #psychiatry #mental health recovery #healingjourney #getting better #self help #trauma #mentally tired #trauma healing

[nosleepfoxtales]

I do i.t. for the supernatural. Today I met the off-brand three stooges.

"So, ah, what did you do once the slime had, um, given birth to you?"

I sighed. My therapist was doing her best with what I was giving her. It's hard when one person is thinking metaphorical and the other literal. 

"Well. I still had it's many children clinging to my jacket and slacks, so I shook myself off like a wet dog," I wasn't even sure this therapy was helping me. To her, I was just having some very fucked up dreams. 

I didn't lie to her. But when someone tells you they were eaten and birthed by a giant green cube, it's hard not to have a little doubt. 

"Hmm. And what did you feel then? Free? Unburdened?"

A snorted chuckle was all I could muster because to be honest, I felt PISSED. Less like the ham stuck in a poorly designed 1960's jello mold, but still pissed. Was it ham? What the hell were they putting in that jello, anyways? Who's idea was that? The original creeped me out, so I definitely didn't have any love for it's apparent descendant, cube mother. 

I held back the sigh this time, "Like I need to address my problems head on." 

and find that bastard Eli and get some answers, I added in my head. 

After our session, I went straight to Moe's, my favorite hookah bar. No relation to the simpsons, I assumed, as it was run by a jovial Indian man named Gaurov. I had been trying for two years to pronounce his name and was still butchering it, but he was always very nice about it. 

"Pi-pi!" his eyes lit up as soon as he saw me, golden irisis filled with mirth. 

"You have to find a better nickname, Gau."

"Okay, I'll GO right now!" he laughed, a deep belly laugh and slid a red hookah from the counter beside him, "Pi-pi, this flavor is called Sex on the Beach. If you're not getting it, you can at least taste it."

I scowled at his grin, shaking one fist at him while using the other hand to snatch the hookah. 

"Who wants to fuck on the beach, man? Do you want sand in your nethers? I didn't think so," I plopped a guard on the tip of the pipe and took a good breath in, "Not bad, though."

"What I can do for you, miserable lady?"

"I need to talk to Eli. He's not picking up my calls and the last job he sent me to is going to be the most challenging case of my therapists career."

He laughed again. 

"Haven't seen him, milady. You've got some jello in your hair, did you know?" he picked a piece out of a shock of hair next to my ear, "Someone was hungry."

My face was going to get stuck in a scowl if I didn't stop, so I smiled at him, making some excuse, and we chatted for a bit about his grandkids and his various Nascar bets. 

"You know you're the only non-white trash person who watches Nascar, right?"

He pouted, shook his head in mock sadness.

"White people can't have nothing nowadays, can they?"

Once I left the bar, I intended to just keep calling Eli until he picked up, but not even 20 paces past, I was jerked off the street into an alley. I stamped my boot in a puddle and got mud all over my jeans.

"Dude!" I yelled, unceremoniously. 

"I'm not a dude." the voice was deep, harsh, bubbling, "And no one can hear you, so screaming is a waste of both of our time."

I gaped up at the man who was speaking. He was broad-shouldered, in a deep grey suit and shiny black shoes. His hair was nicely tucked against his head, an ebony matte, very sleek looking. 

I didn't say "You look like a dude to me," because one, well, I'm nonbinary so who am I to assume people's gender. 

But second and more importantly, the two figures beside him were definitely not human. Crouching back in the shadows, hunched over and poised with a restlessness that said they were ready to spring at a word, lackeys was the only word that could come to mind. A human man wouldn't have paranormal lackeys hanging on his every word.

They were both horrible, but in opposite directions. One was fat and unkempt, his clothes loose and his face stuck in a scowl.

See? I thought manically, It does get stuck that way.

The other was like a business slender man, far too tall and gangly, hunched over and seeming to lean on the wall for support. They both wore the same style of suit but it didn't fit either of them like it did the main guy, hanging loosely in some places and clinging tightly to non-human shapes in others. I couldn't make out either of their faces very well, besides noting the displeasure in both.

I had been alternating between gaping up at this guy and nervously sliding glances towards his henchmen for 30 seconds, so I cleared my throat and tugged my shirt down, Picard style.

"Uh, what can I do for you, big guy?"

"I am not a 'guy', either. You are a human," his voice was deadpan.

"uh, yes, i, um, am," my glance slid for the first time toward the street, which was odd for me since I'm always looking for an exit plan. I guess I was just flabbergasted by being accosted by Benny and the jets in broad daylight.    But a shimmery filter seemed to separate me from the street. Even the light in the bubble we were in seemed replicated, like warm fluorescent lighting. 

"You have been playing with a man named," he paused, seeming to think as my attention was snapped back to him, "Eli? Is it?"

He took a step towards me, and I hit the wall of the alley taking one back as well. 

"Uh, I'm not sure playing is the right word," I stammered, one hand flat against the wall behind me. The long skinny form behind him growled a low growl, seeming to vibrate. He shoved off the wall and began clambering towards me. 

Fuck. Of all the times to be unarmed. My therapist got nervous whenever I brought blades into the office, especially since the ones that I'd need for protection were pretty sizeable. Plus a lot of them had 'sacrificial' in the name, which she also wasn't a fan of.

I squeaked and leaned as far back against the wall as I could, but Boss man gave him a cold over-the-shoulder look and he stopped dead. He muttered miserly, before slowly returning to his awkward lean against the brick.

"He has been here too long," he sent a wistful glance to our left, into the main street where dozens of humans strode along the sidewalk carefree, "He needs to go home."

His glance flicked back to me and the entire power of his cobalt blue gaze hit me all at once. His eyes would have been attractive had he been human, but the light green ring around the outside of his pupil gave him away. Olive colored and sapping darkness from the deep blue iris, the ring constantly moved, shaking as it circled the pupil. As it was, it just made me feel like prey being played with by a predator. 

"You will refrain from contacting him or there will be consequences. Is that understood?"

He seemed like the kind of guy who was used to his questions being rhetorical, even the idea of refusing comical. It lit a small fire in me, chasing the cold of fear out for a moment. 

"Listen, not-dude and not-guy, I'm a contractor, okay? I go to who pays me. Keep your quabbles between you," my voice started strong but shrank bit by bit until I was almost whispering the last word.

The goonies behind him had seemed to swell half their size, and the light in the bubble slowly transitioned from the dull blue to a light glowing pink as he stared steadily down into my face. 

Feeling like a coward but not really caring because I, you know, like to live, I started sputtering.

"Look, there's a thousand other people on this block alone that can do what I do. Taking out ONE of his techs isn't going to get him to do what you want. Honestly, I'm not sure what will, he's the most stubborn dud- uh being I've ever met. If you're having issues, I know a great therapist," I finished weakly. 

"ENOUGH," Slender business man screamed loud enough for me to flinch and cover my ears like a kid at a concert. He slammed his fists into the wall to shove off and began rushing towards me, his clambering steps bouncing his small gangly head. 

I noticed a smell I hadn't before, which I wouldn't have recognized without Eli's interference. I mean, honestly, how many of you know what brimstone smells like? It really didn't give me much help for the current situation, but I filed it away for just in case I survived.

Before I could move a muscle, the man in front of me snapped his fingers and slender business man exploded. Like, full on, inside out, exploded. Pieces of him rained down as I stared wide-eyed and open-mouthed at the gory rain coming down around us. 

"Ah!" I flinched back as a piece landed on my arm and burned it's way down. I frantically wiped it on my pants, the true victim in all this, and suddenly I noticed why his stride was so imbalanced. 

In his wake, his footprints were imprinted into the cement. He appeared to be melting through the concrete with every step, the footprints cutting off right where he exploded. 

"Okay, bud," I started, "And I don't care if you're a bud or not. Either explode me or let me go because I promise you, you're not getting to Eli through me. He's not even picking up my calls."

"Hmm. This might be more troublesome than I first thought."

Beginning to deeply regret my haste, I backed towards the street, the frizz from the barrier pulling my hair to stand on end. 

His penetrating gaze bored into me, and as I placed a hand up to the barrier, I saw someone walk by, barely sparing a glance into the alley. But they did look, nonchalantly, and then back to the street. She couldn't see me, I realized, my heart dropping. I was truly alone with this malevolent being and who knows if they'd even leave my body? I was going to just vanish without a trace.

I turned back to see him, hands in pockets, striding towards me calmly, his jacket tails waving casually around his forearms. 

I searched my brain for what I could possibly say to him. I didn't even know what he was, let alone how to negotiate for my life from him. 

As I was debating my willingness to pray to the ether, he had come up just about chest to chest and I stared up at him, trying to puff myself up. Not sure why, he's not a bear. I guess it's human instinct to try to make yourself look big when cornered. 

"You should have listened, Woman."

He raised his hand and I closed my eyes, not wanting to catch sight of any of myself exploding around the alley. Before I could even squeak again, something soft banged against the back of my knees, causing my legs to buckle underneath me. A flash of silver popped up in front of me, topped by a familiar growth of onyx curls.

I let out a short shriek as I landed on my ass, moaning and rubbing my hip. 

"She's not a woman, she's a non-binary," Nathan explained simply. 

I swore and, ignoring my swollen hip, snatched him backwards. 

"Nathan," I hissed, "get the fuck out of here. What the fuck are you doing?"

"You're not supposed to say 'Fuck'," he said. 

"You're not supposed to say fuck, Nathan. I say fuck because I have very good reasons. Now-"

"How come you're not calling me squirt anymore?" he asked, sulking. 

My emotions could not have been more upheaved at this moment. Nathan is Eli's nephew, whom I had been tasked with babysitting not long ago. With how obsessed this guy was with Eli, this was the absolute worst place for Nathan to be. My resignation at being taken out by an anime character was quickly replaced with a fresh batch of fear. 

"Squirt, please, blink back home and I'll come visit you, soon, okay?" I was pleading with him, clutching him by his slender shoulders. My shaking voice was not going to be able to summon the mom voice by the time this kid was a splat against the concrete. 

"Olgir?"

Nathan did a 180, gazing up at mr. scary eyes and squealing with glee. 

"Uncle Sloane!"

I groaned loud enough for people outside the bubble to hear, and the man mirrored me to my surprise. 

"You've gotta be kidding me." I moaned.

"How do you know my nephew?" Sloane asked, then dipped his head, "Ah, obviously. My brother put you together."

"Brother?" I squeaked, furious, "You were going to kill me so your brother would come home for a freaking visit?"

He lifted his chin, looking down his nose at me. 

"I wasn't going to kill you, stupid human. I was just going to put you in another universe where you wouldn't be in my way," he sniffed and adjusted his jacket, pulling down his sleeves. 

I was incredulous.

"Oh, okay, well that's fine then," I said bitterly, and somewhat shockily. 

"Uncle Sloane, that's mean," Nathan frowned up at him, "Auntie Piper is my friend."

"Oh, Auntie Piper is it?" he asked, bemused, his enourmous hands shoved back in his pockets. 

"Where is Uncle Eli, Olgir?" Sloane asked, particular poison in the words Uncle Eli. 

"Uncle Sloan," Nathan elongated his name, emphasizing it, "Up here, you call me Nathan. 'You can call me Nathan', right, Auntie Piper?" 

He was beaming at me but I could only stare at him in a stupor, alternating my gaze between him and Sloane. 

"Is there anyone in this family not trying to kill me? Just curious," I pushed myself up, brushing the stray pebbles from my pants, before heaving a huge sigh and placing my hands on my hips. I was out of emotion, I had wrung myself dry between being snatched by Senpai here and thinking, for the second time this month, that I was about to watch this kid die. 

Sloane scoffed.

"My brother would never let a woman die under his care."

"She's not a woman, she's a-"

"I don't care about your petty human politics," he spat, his former ruthlessness bleeding through, "and neither does my brother. He's tolerating it because you're of use to him. Don't let your tiny human mind become confused into thinking he cares for you."

"Okay, Jordan Peterson," I replied, chuckling at his confused expression. Now that he was scowling, I definitely saw the resemblance to Eli.

"How many times must I remind you, I am not a dude, and I am not a guy, and I am not a Jordan Peterson."

"Okay, Sloane, first off, I was never under the delusion that he 'cares for me'," I bunny quoted with my hands even though I doubted he knew that particular piece of human culture, "I've still got fucking sentient jello in my hair."

He cocked his head, clearly still confused, and I decided tutoring whatever he was in the human world was beyond my abilities at that moment.

"And second of all, I'm just hired help, okay? I'm not the one keeping him here, and away from," I gestured wildly, "wherever it is you're from. You need to talk to him, not me."

"Hmm." he said in a sound of dismissal. 

"Come, Olg-," he sighed in disgust, "Come, Nathan. Let's go see if we can find Uncle, hmm?"

Nathan gave me a friendly wave and skipped off, hand in hand with my would be executioner. Or...travel agent, I guess? I peeked around them and saw the fatter of the lackeys melting into mist, leaving a pile of soggy clothes to rot in the alleyway.

Frazzled but out of energy to think about it, I watched them stroll away before returning to Moe's and checking my phone. Six missed calls from Eli. 

"You better be dead," read a text from him. 

Oh, don't you worry, Eli, I thought, this was a call I couldn't wait to return. 

#scary stories #short stories #nosleep #series

[padayonrikay]

PSYCHOANALYSIS APPROACH

A method of psychological therapy, psychoanalysis is a body of theories and therapeutic techniques that partially address the unconscious mind. Sigmund Freud, an Austrian neurologist, founded the field in the early 1890s. He based it on his theoretical framework for how people's personalities are organized and developed, known as psychoanalytic theory.

The KRAFT company's Zesty Italian salad dressing is the item highlighted in the text. The KRAFT logo, LET'S GET ZESTY, THE ONLY THING BETTER THAN DRESSING IS UNDRESSING, and ZESTY ITALIAN on the product itself are the texts and phrases that can be seen in the image. The virtual text utilizes dark, colors that can be seen, such as the bluish-black of the sky, the black of the table and candlestick, the man's boxer and his hair, the white of the polo and the candles, the green of the salad's ingredients, and the orange of the dressing. The items mentioned in the text represent how people seek out fine foods like KRAFT to satisfy their palates. The man in the picture symbolizes ZESTY, which is literally sexy or tasty. He has been employed as a tool to illustrate the salad dressing's value and ability to satisfy your palate. In addition, the candles and the background night sky demonstrate that salad is best enjoyed at the end of the day or on special occasions. Readers are persuaded by this text's compelling theme and unique setting.

Who would even think that a product would feature a man lying on top of a table when the salad dressing is actually used specifically for a salad that is consumed by families or friends during celebrations? Customers will be encouraged by the creative idea to research the product and see if it meets their needs.

The first thing that catches our eye is the naked man lying on top of the table. No respectable man, much less a chef, would disrobe while consuming or preparing a salad, especially if a large crowd would witness it. Additionally, the component makes us question the use of a man as opposed to a female. Why let a man extend his legs and sit on top of a table in his boxers?

Last but not least, the man took up a lot of space in the image, making it challenging to see the main item—the Italian salad dressing. However, the man will also give the customers a chance to consider what he is holding and its potential uses. On a more superficial level, the image depicts a man sitting on a table with his legs slightly apart, which might suggest that he is charming the spectators.

Because of the candles and darkness, which are typical of restaurants and honeymoons, the scene creates a romantic and opulent atmosphere. The man's attractive features, such as his muscle and abs, are highlighted by the dimness and angle of the light. Given that this is an advertisement for the food company Kraft, I'm perplexed by the text that claims that the best dressing is undressed. Perhaps they want to make a suggestion? It is an analogy and a clever play on opposite words to say that dressing enhances the food and the man undressing enhances his features.

The text is beneficial because it provides hints. concerning the comparison. According to me, the man and the food in the image are being compared because they both share two traits: they are both made presentable to be desired and they provide pleasure. When food tastes good, we are happy; when a man is attractive, we are happy.

They intend to position the dressing as a way to enhance the appeal of the food, much like how men appear seductive when they are unclothed. Women or people who like men, in general, should be the target audience for this image, but since they want to market the clothing, it should also appeal to men.

[bookofmirth]

Genuine question: if you hate the idea of Elain and Az so much why ship him with Gwyn. If you don’t hate Elain, why be so vicious toward people that think Elain and Az would be suited. It doesn’t make sense to me that people argue Az is so bad and toxic but then turn around and ship him with Gwyn. I don’t really care who Elain ends up with because she’s my favorite character and I just want her to be happy. But I don’t get the dissonance of being so against Az and Elain but so excited about Gwyn and Az when the argument against Elriel is that Az is toxic. If Az is bad fine, but why be mad at people shipping him with Elain if you ship him with Gwyn. I don’t get it??

Hello! I've answered a similar question before, but here goes. And I will answer this fully and genuinely, though this question has been used as a faux, weak "gotcha" before.

I don't really ship gwynriel. From my pinned post: "I ship elucien and emorie, and believe that jassa and gwynriel will happen in canon." I reblog gwynriel content to support artist and my friends who I know would appreciate the art. I talk about gwynriel because it's a natural part of analyzing the series, and I think it will happen in canon.

Gwyn and Elain are different people. The way that Azriel treats them is also very different. It is the way that he treats Elain (and Mor) that is at the heart of why I cannot ship e*riel.

To expand on that point, Azriel watched Elain fight with her sisters, stand up for herself for one of the first times ever, try to say "this is what I want to do", and then he undermined her when she left the room.

Azriel watched Gwyn in the aftermath of her assault, he saw her with Nesta struggling to train despite how unusual it was for her. He then helped her in that goal in several ways.

To sum up those two points, the way that Azriel treats Mor and Elain, and the way that he treats Gwyn, are night and day. Shipping gwynriel and shipping e*riel is not a matter of replacing one character with another. The dynamics are completely, black and white, night and day different.

And in that vein, when I (and many others) say that Az needs the Prythian equivalent of therapy, or he needs to come to terms with how he sees certain women, etc., that is true with certain women, but mainly the issue is Azriel. The issue is not Elain, and it's not Gwyn, nor is it Mor. It's the way that Azriel has decided to view certain women because of problems with him. Just as an alcoholic is not drunk 24-hours a day, someone who has toxic tendencies won't be that way with every single person they encounter.

It is because I like Elain that I cannot ship e*riel. He would coddle her and prevent her from challenging herself, he would watch her struggle and then wrap her up in a blanket and say "there there sweetie, go plant some flowers instead." That is the literal opposite of what Elain needs, what she is capable of, and what she is worth.

why be so vicious toward people that think Elain and Az would be suited

Now this, this genuinely confuses me. I talk a whole lot of shit about those two as a couple, yes. I've had it bottled up inside for years. But that ship is not real. They do not care what I say about them because they are not real.

I don't care what people ship, but mischaracterization annoys me on a personal level. So yeah, I talk shit about the ship, but...

When have I ever looked for blogs that disagree with me just to jump on their posts and argue?

When have I ever reblogged an anti elucien post just to be contrarian?

When do I get into comment fights?

When do I take ss of people's content to make fun of it publicly?

When do I vague people and clearly comment on something that one person specifically has said, making it easy to tell who I am talking about?

I can tell you that I don't do the things above, but people do them to me! And I can tell you that it all just happened to me just last week, so...

If an anon says something about certain shippers in an ask, when do I not spin the conversation so that we are talking mainly about the ship instead of the people? You wouldn't know this, but I delete asks that are outright rude towards e*riels. Last week someone sent me one calling them delusional, and I deleted it. Even when I do post those, I clarify it as "people who think X..." rather than "these e*riel shippers..." because I know they aren't a monolith. If someone sends me a post with a link, I delete it if I know I am going to disagree with the link that was sent. The few times I have answered those, I blacked out the link before responding so that OP wouldn't be harassed.

And even if I fail in that, even if someone sends me an ask and I get snarkier than I should, blocking me is so, so easy. I don't go on to other people's blogs, I don't comment on their posts, in fact my habit is "see something annoying, block the person". Y'all can feel free to do the same.

99% of the time, I am very, very intentional in what I post here because I know I have a significant audience. But the things I say are about the characters and the ships. If certain people can't distinguish between themselves and the characters they like, that's not my problem. That's definitely a problem they need to work through.

#gwynriel #acotar fandom #ask #anon #antielriel

[hakasims]

The Most Important Review of Every Single Marwan Kenzari Film

If you’ve seen this one about Luca, you know the drill.

Now, Marwan’s brand is a little less defined than Luca’s but I managed to find similar tropes in a lot of his films. Also, rather than copy myself and give you a redundant Marwanmeter, I decided instead to recommend which Luca character best pairs with each Marwan character for your crossover pleasure. Let’s see if we ship the same things! Some of them are crack. You’re welcome.

(all gifs again by the awesomely amazing @weardes​ who did not ask to be my gif factory but life’s a bitch)

Het zusje van Katia (2008)

Will you miss him if you blink? Kinda. They talk about him a lot but his actual screen time is like 43.7 seconds. Also can I just say... he’s supposed to be from Italy?? The boy says literally one (1) Italian word, and you’ll never guess what it is. (Obviously, it’s “bella” like there’s a chance he could’ve said anything else.)

Is he hot? Painfully hot.

Is he naked? There’s this one scene where he’s wearing the sluttiest pair of speedos I’ve ever seen in my entire life.

Does his hair look great? Actually, yes. Perfect hair, perfect beard, he looks amazing.

Does he fuck? Yes, a lot - off screen, including an M/M/F threesome he presumably, probably, most definitely initiated.

Best paired with? From what I’ve gathered, this hoe ain’t loyal, so the best course of action is to find him a Luca that would benefit from a one night stand with no strings attached and wouldn’t fall in love with him. The obvious choice here is Valerio from Slam - Tutto per una ragazza. They meet, they fuck, then Giac makes his 4-hour drive back to Pisa, and they don’t see each other again until the next time he’s in Rome. Everybody’s happy, especially the two sluts in question.

De laatste dagen van Emma Blank (2009)

Will you miss him if you blink? Yes, absolutely.

Is he hot? Very.

Is he naked? Almost constantly.

Does his hair look great? He’s got those cute short curls, he looks so good.

Does he fuck? That’s literally why he’s there: to fuck and to die.

Best paired with? Man, I wish I had something to work with here. The only thing we know about him besides his sexual prowess is his affinity for white suits and toy helicopters. And as far as I know, those might be the exact things Fabrizio from Nina finds hot in guys. So like, why not?

Loft (2010)

Will you miss him if you blink? He’s the fifth most important character.

Is he hot? Yeah, sure.

Is he naked? There’s a scene where he’s wearing underwear and a tank top but it somehow makes him look like a kindergartener.

Does his hair look great? It looks quite nice.

Does he fuck? Yes, though I wish he didn’t.

Best paired with? Tom is a very violent person and a drug addict. He does messed up stuff to his sexual partners I’d rather he didn’t do to any of Luca’s characters. Feel free to use him for your sadistic fantasies or as a villain or whatever.

Rabat (2011)

Will you miss him if you blink? No, he’s one of the three leads.

Is he hot? Oh yes! And cute!

Is he naked? He’s at the beach wearing nothing but boxer shorts.

Does his hair look great? He’s got this extreme undercut thing that would look ridiculous on anyone less pretty, so like no, he doesn’t have great hair, but also like it’s Marwan, you know what I mean?

Does he fuck? Before he embarks on a road trip with his friends, he has an offscreen threesome with two girls he picked up at a wedding. Slut.

Best paired with? Gabriele from Waves. They’re both sweet guys who could meet in some Tunisian port and decide to sail the Mediterranean Sea together.

Black Out (2012)

Will you miss him if you blink? Not unless your blinking is very deliberate.

Is he hot? Not really. He’s a dirty cop with a shitty moustache and oral fixation.

Is he naked? No, but I wish he was: his clothes are awful. Marwan is 29 in this movie and he looks 50!

Does his hair look great? Nope. They took Marwan’s usual short hair and made it not work somehow.

Does he fuck? No.

Best paired with? The one thing Luca’s characters all have in common is that none of them come off as bootlickers. All of them are either too soft for such a relationship or wouldn’t waste their spit on a cop.

Wolf (2013)

Will you miss him if you blink? No, he’s the protagonist.

Is he hot? *gestures wildly at the gif*

Is he naked? He’s got quite a few shirtless scenes.

Does his hair look great? It’s nothing special but suits his character well.

Does he fuck? Oh yes.

Best paired with? Hear me out. I know that some people ship him with Fabio, but in my opinion that pair, while hot, doesn’t work. Here’s my pitch: Cesare from Non essere cattivo. The drug connection is still there, but in this case Majid’s problem-solving skills won’t fall on deaf ears. Cesare needs a daddy, ok? Majid can be a daddy when he needs to, especially when he has a soft boyfriend to care for. And Majid needs soft, not psycho.

Hartenstraat (2014)

Will you miss him if you blink? No, he’s the protagonist once again.

Is he hot? Painfully.

Is he naked? There’s that iconic scene where he’s wearing nothing but black boxer briefs and boots while carrying a tray...

Does his hair look great? He’s got Joe-like curls and looks like what every male romantic lead should aspire to look like and then cry because they all fail.

Does he fuck? There’s one very unfortunate sex scene played for laughs. I’m pretty sure he’ll need therapy afterwards. I certainly do.

Best paired with? Paolo from Il padre d’Italia. Paolo deserves the best boyfriend, and who’s better than Daan, an extremely hot man who cooks? They both have daughters, so they can talk about that, I guess, and Paolo can finally have a family. Honestly, this is so wholesome I just made myself cry.

Lucia de B. (2014)

Will you miss him if you blink? For sure.

Is he hot? He’s a cop. Again. But he looks good.

Is he naked? Fully dressed, but man are his clothes ugly. Is that a cop thing?

Does his hair look great? He has slightly longer curls, which is fine and the best thing about this character.

Does he fuck? ACAB. (I know this doesn’t answer the question, I just wanted to make it clear.)

Best paired with? See my bootlicker comment from earlier. While Detective *checks notes* Ron Leeflang isn’t explicitly corrupt, he’s obviously a dick, so the best I can do here is recommend any Luca character that has ever been in trouble with the law for any fics about power imbalance you want to write but aren’t comfortable with a nice Marwan playing the villain.

Bloedlink (2014)

Will you miss him if you blink? Oh no, he’s there the entire time.

Is he hot? In a weird way, yes.

Is he naked? So, so, so naked. Like, leave nothing to the imagination naked.

Does his hair look great? I’d say that little rat tail is the exact opposite of great.

Does he fuck? Probably more than is good for him. I should also add that he’s canonically queer in this.

Best paired with? Rico is a pathetic loser in need of someone who’s got his life together and has a lot of experience dealing with fuckups. Enter Loris from Il mondo fino in fondo. He has a stable job and a savior complex, and with his little bro gaying it up in Chile and not needing him anymore, all he wants right now is someone to fix. I should be a fucking matchmaker in real life, for real.

Pak van mijn hart (2014)

Will you miss him if you blink? Undoubtedly.

Is he hot? No. The whole point of his character is to be the lesser choice compared to a guy who looks like a completely ordinary bland white dude...

Is he naked? ...so of course he isn’t naked! What, are they gonna take this poor woman, show her Marwan Kenzari’s post-Wolf body and expect her to choose her deeply mediocre ex? Please! They’re gonna dress him in the dorkiest clothes possible...

Does his hair look great? ...and make him wear the most awful wig that was clearly run over by a truck.

Does he fuck? No. As you can observe, they tried really hard to make him unfuckable, but honestly, he seems like a perfectly nice guy.

Best paired with? You know what? Mattia from La solitudine dei numeri primi is in desperate need of some sweetness and normalcy. I’m sure Richard will treat him with kindness and respect.

Collide (2016)

Will you miss him if you blink? He’s the fifth most important character. Out of five.

Is he hot? Very hot.

Is he naked? Not for a second! What’s up with American movies where people aren’t just casually walking around naked without any plot necessity???

Does his hair look great? His curls are so cute you guys! Look at them!

Does he fuck? Not explicitly.

Best paired with? Fabio from Lo chiamavano Jeeg Robot. Again, the drug connection is there, but Matthias is soft enough not to butt heads with Fabio and, by the end of the movie, rich enough to satisfy his cravings for good living and fame. Also look at how good their color coordination is with those dark wine red clothes! Sometimes planets just align, okay?

Ben-Hur (2016)

Will you miss him if you blink? Yes, especially if you aren’t watching the background.

Is he hot? Your usual Marwan hot.

Is he naked? No.

Does his hair look great? His typical short curls with a twist. I think the forehead area is supposed to invoke the Caesar cut? I don’t know. It looks fine when not hidden under that dumb helmet.

Does he fuck? No.

Best paired with? A better script and a much better director. (Seriously, what is this blocking?)

The Promise (2016)

Will you miss him if you blink? He’s there a decent amount in the first half of the movie and then almost completely disappears in the second half.

Is he hot? Very much, yes.

Is he naked? Unfortunately, no.

Does his hair look great? He’s got short curls again, but this time they’re fashionably styled, it’s magnificent.

Does he fuck? Oh yeah! And there’s no way he isn’t bi or pan in this. No way.

Best paired with? Roberta from L’ultimo terrestre. Listen, Emre Ogan may be a slut but he’s a gentleman, okay? He’d treat Roberta right and he’s got daddy’s cash to spare on hundreds of gorgeous white dresses for her.

The Mummy (2017)

Will you miss him if you blink? He’s there, but barely.

Is he hot? Dangerously hot.

Is he naked? Not once! Instead we get a naked Tom Cruise literally no one asked for.

Does his hair look great? It’s your basic professional short hairdo.

Does he fuck? No.

Best paired with? Malik is a member of an organization tracking and destroying various monsters and historical artefacts related to them. Guido from Tutti i santi giorni speaks four languages, including Latin, and is a literature and ancient history nerd which makes him a valuable asset. Malik can fight and protect; Guido is bumbling and in need of saving. Guys, this writes itself.

What Happened to Monday (2017)

Will you miss him if you blink? No, especially not in the third act.

Is he hot? He’s okay.

Is he naked? Very naked.

Does his hair look great? They shouldn’t have greased his curls back. He looks like another victim of Fabio Cannizzaro’s stylist. Also I wish he’d either shaved or finished growing out that beard.

Does he fuck? He fucks and he fucks good. He’ll go down on you, he’ll deflower you slowly and gently, he’ll choke you if you want him to, he’ll spoon you all night, he’ll give you emotional support, he’ll murder people for you - he’s down for whatever.

Best paired with? There’s one Luca character who needs a lot of sex and even more emotional support. Alright, most of them do, but I’m thinking of Ettore from Lasciate andare. He needs it, okay? Good dicking, good spooning, a good ear, a fine piece of ass to cry into - you get the gist. Most importantly: someone who’d love him for who he is and with whom he could relax and be himself. (Also, I see you, people comparing him to Fabio. Shame on you for sleeping on this soft boy and judging him based on his appearance.)

Murder on the Orient Express (2017)

Will you miss him if you blink? He’s kinda always present, being very French.

Is he hot? Very hot.

Is he naked? No, but I’m willing to forgive that because he looks so good in his conductor uniform.

Does his hair look great? He never takes off his hat.

Does he fuck? No.

Best paired with? Mickey Miranda. They’re both murderers morally dubious characters who would look hot together. What else do you need? (Again, I see you, people who want Pierre for Roberta because he’s a “nice guy”, and I know for a fact you didn’t watch the movie. Spoilers, I guess.)

The Angel (2018)

Will you miss him if you blink? No, he’s the protagonist.

Is he hot? Oh yes.

Is he naked? Not once, but you won’t regret it because he’s wearing excellently stylish 1970s clothes.

Does his hair look great? It looks fantastic. The sideburns (not yet seen here) are a good touch.

Does he fuck? He can definitely get it, but he’s loyal to his wife.

Best paired with? As the most aesthetically coherent and fashionably hot pair in this post, Ashraf and Primo are a no-brainer. Can you imagine Primo calling him “Angel” in different contexts? When he’s being intimidating, not realizing how palpable the sexual tension between them is, and later not even hiding his arousal? Sometimes things just work because they’re hot. That’s all, folks.

Aladdin (2019)

Will you miss him if you blink? No, he’s the main villain.

Is he hot? It’s not like he went viral for being the “hot Jafar” or anything.

Is he naked? No! Fucking thanks a lot, Disney.

Does his hair look great? He has a buzz cut under that turban but he looks good in the turban, so that’s something.

Does he fuck? It’s a Disney movie, so he doesn’t fuck - explicitly or otherwise - but he still comes off as a thirsty bitch.

Best paired with? Jafar ends the movie as a genie who’s obligated to grant his master three wishes but is enough of a petty bitch to exploit the hell out of the “gray area” and screw them over Wishmaster style. My unconventional pair for him is Lui from Ricordi? So many scenarios with distorted memories and magic-induced mindfuck. So many possibilities for awesome and messed up crossover gifsets! Don’t say I never give you guys anything.

Instinct (2019)

Will you miss him if you blink? No, he’s very prominent.

Is he hot? I hate myself for finding him hot but I do.

Is he naked? He’s playing basketball shirtless in one scene, shaking his sweaty boobs everywhere.

Does his hair look great? His weird mohawk-like thing is honestly terrible, but if anything can make it work, it’s Marwan’s bone structure.

Does he fuck? Um, I’m pleading the Fifth on this one for the sake of good taste.

Best paired with? Prison. A very lonely, Luca-less prison.

The Old Guard (2020)

Will you miss him if you blink? No, unless blinking in your case means sleeping through the gloriousness that is the first ever canonically gay couple in an American action film.

Is he hot? Painfully.

Is he naked? Shirtless in one scene.

Does his hair look great? Soft curls courtesy of Luca Marinelli’s tireless lobbying.

Does he fuck? Not on screen, but you can just tell by the way he looks at his husband and reads impromptu poetry right to his face. And everybody knows nothing kindles the fires of passion quite like murdering homophobes together.

Best paired with? If you have to ask, you’re clearly reading this by mistake. In which case, kudos for finishing such a long and confusing post, now go watch The Old Guard and cry at the beauty that is The Immortal Marriage.

#marwan kenzari #luca marinelli #the old guard #and other movies #i'm lazy #immortal husbands #and their parallel versions i guess #crossover ships galore

[kodzukyan]

the long way home (to you)

notes: happy belated birthday, rissa! cheers to our tokrev momster, the baby of group therapy, and the light of my life!! words can’t describe how much joy you bring to my life, and i’m thankful every day for you. thank you for putting up with all the dumb shit i say on the daily HAHA. i love you so much. 🥺💖 @seishue (also thank you to annette and ilayda for putting up with me as i overthink every thing HAHA 🥺) 

summary: the concept of home redefined through the years. - kokonui

wc: 1.6k

Home is an abstract concept, but it’s something Koko has always been able to define.

At eight, it was sitting in Seishu’s room and the sound of pencils scribbling on summer homework as the air conditioner hummed through the silence. At eight, it was the sound of his laughter as Seishu pouts about summer homework. At eight, it was Akane with her golden hair and sky-blue eyes as she brings in barley tea and snack cakes. At eight, it was the warmth that blooms in his chest as his heart thunders excitedly and recklessly at the sight of Akane’s pretty smiles and playful teasing.

At eight, it was the sound of fire crackling and tearing through the home he knew.

(All he sees is the painted reds and oranges of fire, burning, burning, burning through home as he knows it.

He runs into the fire anyway because he promised. He will save her, save love as he knows it. As if he’s running on autopilot, he just bulldozes through the building of burning wood and flaming memories because he purely has one end goal. He runs, runs, runs, and finally sees her, sees the promise he vowed to protect.

He doesn’t think because all he cares about is Akane, his promise, and he grabs her and runs. He sighs in relief as they make it. As he breathes in the fresh air, he sees light blue eyes staring right back at him, too light to be paired with the soft smile that flutters his heart, and he feels like he can’t breathe. He stares vacantly at Seishu, and as pain reflects back from his blue eyes, Koko hates himself for feeling upset that he saved his best friend instead of his sister.

His eyes drift from downcast eyes to the blazing building, and his heart stops. He’s breathing, but his body is frozen and his mind is dazed. The forbidding feeling in his chest swells into a looming shadow, and he feels crushed as it devours him whole.)

At eight, home burns. All he’s left with is Seishu’s hand clutching his as they stand in a white room. The love of his life laid still, and the steady beep of the heart monitor drowns out their cries.

-----

At fifteen, home was found through crimes and bonds built through money and blood. At fifteen, it was wistful thinking and forcing the image of Akane onto his best friend, hoping, praying that she will still smile at him all the same. But she doesn’t because all he recognizes is Seishu and his steady eyes as he looks forward. In contrast, Koko feels increasingly aware that he was the only one running in circles with no destination.

Seishu has constantly seen him, always looked at him as him. And despite conventional belief, while he still detects traces of Akane, he sees Seishu too. He cherishes him too, in a different way than how he loved Akane, in a way that reminds him that love is steady.

He loves Seishu in a way that he will always, always choose him. Like the consistent beat of his heart, love flows softly, tenderly, subtly. Unlike the blazing flutters of his heart he felt with Akane, it's more like the stars that twinkle night after night. With Seishu, he doesn’t have to be the Koko who exclusively knows how to break things and make money. With Seishu, he can completely just be Koko. A gentle lull, rest stop, a stronghold against the world where he doesn’t have to run, where he can finally sleep.

Seishu deserves better, though. He deserves someone who isn’t chasing after the image of a dead girl while being half in love with him. He deserves someone who isn’t running in circles, both mentally and emotionally. He deserves someone who loves him fully instead of his half-baked feelings that grow and surface with every moment, but he refuses to acknowledge.

(Because if he does, what will he have left? Who is he without money and his feelings for the one who commenced it all?

He’s a little more lost than found, so he just keeps on running, running, running in hopes to discover some answers, to finally reach somewhere he can just be.

(He doesn't know how to stop.)

Somehow, he thinks Seishu knows all along anyway with the way he still squeezes his hand and looks at him like he’s still worth it. He still enables him to lean in and tuck himself in between the crook of his neck and breathe in the scent of home.)

But home, Koko thinks, becomes a little more undefined when they part ways. Because he can no longer protect Seishu, who keeps on going and facing forwards while he’s still stuck on a repeated loop. Because he knows he’s gripping Seishu back from growing and becoming someone who can take on the world.

(Because he loves him.)

So, he lets go of home and wonders since when did it become so cold without Seishu’s hand holding his.

-----

At eighteen, he is completely lost. The sight of Akane’s smiling is long gone and the warmth of Seishu’s hand in his has gone cold. The looming shadow that has been following him is always ready to overtake him, but he fights on anyway because he has to see it through.

(See what through? He doesn’t know exactly.)

Ironically, it has incessantly been the bleakest moments when Seishu appears beside him. He’s still running loops on repeat, but he thinks an alternative path opens up when Seishu extends his hand out. He wants to take it, wants to altogether stop running because he’s so tired.

“Koko.” Seishu prompts as he holds his hand out, “I’ll give you half of my burdens, so give me half of yours too.”

He grasps Seishu’s hand, and Seishu pulls him up. Koko leans into the crook of Seishu’s neck like he did before, and as if all the years of exhaustion finally caught up to him, he cries. He cries for the loss of Akane, cries for the loss of what could have been, cries for the loss of home.

Seishu just stands still and supports him tightly in his arms as he breaks.

“I’m with you.”

He used to think he was the one who supported Seishu, but he thinks he’s been proven time and time again that it’s the opposite way around.

“We don’t talk about this,” Koko sniffles as he leans into Seishu’s hold.

“Okay,” Seishu promises and places a tender kiss on his temple.

Koko has never believed in God. God wasn’t there when he needed him; God still isn’t here when he needs him. But as their bodies press together, limbs tangled and eyes locked, he wonders if this is what heaven feels like.

("Koko," Seishu starts. A conversation that has been lingering in the back of his mind; a conversation that has to be said. He pauses, wandering eyes hesitant to confront black ones before he inhales sharply. "I’m not Akane."

Koko's teasing smile fades, intense eyes meeting crystalline blue ones that are slightly lighter than the girl he loved once. He used to imagine the boy in front of him as his sister, the one he swore he would protect, but he can’t even fathom the thought now. He can see her traces, but he thinks he never desires it to be her anymore. He just wants his best friend, his comfort, his home, him. "I know."

His callous hands reach for Seishu’s burn scar, caressing it gently before he trails down and brushes Seishu’s soft cheek. He cradles it for a moment before he presses his forehead against Seishu’s, softly, fondly. He’s earnest as his eyes staring straight into blue ones, a vulnerability in his gaze. A realization, a truth, something he’s long figured out but didn’t want to admit because he didn’t want to let go of all that he knew.

But he notes the man in front of him now, feels the warmth of his cheek and the softness in his glance, and Koko finally smiles and feels like it’s okay to stop.

“I only see you, Seishu. You, and only you.”)

At eighteen, he comes home after wandering the world, thinking maybe he can ultimately stop his journey to obtain something because he had someone all along.

-----

At twenty-one, home looks a lot like the one from his childhood. A modest one-bedroom apartment with an equally small living room and kitchen, but there’s still the sound of pencils scribbling as Seishu writes down the grocery list and the air conditioner still hums through the summer daze.

Life feels so calm that everything before this moment feels like a fever dream. He wakes up next to Seishu, drinks coffee — black for him, two sugars and heavy on the milk for Seishu — together before they part ways for work or whatever they have for the day. They take turns picking dinner or leave it to the roulette when they can’t decide, and sometimes they go out with their friends for drinks at night.

Within these four walls of the apartment, there are memories immortalized as pictures, and furniture far too expensive for a little place like this. Heels line up in the doorway, name-brand jackets fill the closet, a set of matching silverware picked out together.

A home meant for two, and love blankets every crevice in this small home and his heart.

Home, Koko thinks, perchance is a person all along as he stares at Seishu, who only smiles and holds out his hand as he catches his eyes. Koko reflectively smiles back and laces their fingers together.

“You ready?” Seishu asks, a grocery list in hand and his heart in the other.

“With you? Always,” he responds back with a grin, knowing he equally holds Seishu’s heart too.

Home, Koko thinks, is definitely Seishu all along. 

#kokonui #kokoinu #inukoko #koko x inupi #koko x inui #kokonoi hajime x inui seishu #sometimes i write things #happy birthday rissa!! #you deserve to be celebrated every day because the world truly is a better place with you in it <3 #there is not a day that goes by without me smiling or laughing because of you #i await the day where we go light a car on fire and have a cute picnic right after <3 #i love you so much <3 #thank you for being born #i personally am rooting for inupi to go apeshit #but in this house we stan soft kkn :') #keep ur eyes out for a possible short kkn series after HUEHUEHUE #tr fic #tokyo revengers fic #tokyo revengers

[papipopsicle]

SHY AWAY PART FIVE

Pairing: Bucky Banes X Reader

Summary: In which an imitation Captain America leads to Y/N leaving her holiday early and coming back to the field. Stuck between her only two friends, she's forced to reveal a secret she'd kept even from herself.

Song: Rain by Grandson

Warnings: swearing, small amount of John Walker (if he's in here, he's a warning)

Words: 1.4K

A/N- "Doar spune când, James, am sã-l gut ca un porc." Translates to "Just say when, James, I'll gut him like a pig." in Romanian.

MASTERLIST

feedback is always appreciated

"And if he was wrong about you, then he was wrong about me." The words ricocheted through Y/N's mind as Walker tried his hardest to coerce the trio into helping him. The brunette woman didn't care for his manipulative tactics, unable to focus on anything other than Bucky's dejected tone and melancholy visage.

He couldn't be more wrong, and she wished with everything in her conscious being that he could view himself through her eyes even for just a moment. They may be ever so slightly rose tinted, she admitted to herself, knowing she held her friends to a higher standard than most people. But she had good reason to.

"James Buchanan Barnes." Y/N mumbled the name, finding an instant affinity to the way it sounded in her hushed voice. She sat atop Steve's bed, two months had passed since Hydra and Shield both fell, the two free agents for the first time in three years. The file Natasha had given him lay flat across her lap, ogling at second photo attached, "That Sargent uniform... there is nothing I wouldn't let him do to me while wearing that."

Steve leant against his doorframe, entertained by his friend's enthralment, "And in his Winter Solider gear, and when you saw him pulling me out of the Potomac. I'm starting to think it's not just the outfits, honey."

A small part of her brain accepted in the hierarchy of humans in her life, Bucky was at the top. Y/N tried to convince herself he was equal with and just as platonic as Sam. Prior to 'The Blip', she was so head-sure when it came to that - but now her head swam with his voice and drowned a happy death in his scent.

"A word of advice then, stay the hell out of my way." John's strident voice pulled Y/N from her thoughts. Sam's hand lay on the small of her back, guiding her away from the imitation Captain. She felt like slicing open his neck right then and there, he didn't deserve the shield even for a minute. He could keep the stupid outfit, but the shield meant something to her, to most people.

"Doar spune când, James, am sã-l gut ca un porc." Y/N growled, shaking away her anger as the three walked in the opposite direction to John and his companion.

The air was quiet for a few minutes, maybe even ten. Y/N looked for the nearest hotel, finding an appropriate one and guiding the boys down these unfamiliar streets. Only a quiet 'this way' or 'next turn' came from her, seeming so unnaturally ordinary like an exploring tourist. Sam gave Bucky a once over, checking on his friend, finding his gaze firmly attached to the woman two steps ahead of them.

They may not be the closest kind of friends, but Sam could read the super soldier with ease. He smirked, choosing once again not to mention his findings, especially after the fragility of his self worth shone through the therapy session.

"So, what are you thinking?" Sam asked smoothly.

Bucky observed his surroundings before speaking, alert of all the pedestrians around him, "Well, I know what we have to do. When Isaiah said 'my people'..."

"Oh, don't take that to heart." Sam comforts him, his usual calm nature alleviating any awkwardness left from the station, "That's not what he meant."

"No, he meant Hydra. Hydra used to be my people, they were when he and I met." Bucky said lowly.

Sam let out a large sigh after a moment, piquing Y/N's attention, "Not a chance."

"Walker doesn't have any leads..." Bucky trails off, and Y/N covertly slowed her steps to fall back in line with the two men. She wracked her tired brain, piecing together the conversation she hadn't cared for, until a horrible conclusion struck her.

"I swear to all the gods out there," Y/N began in a hushed voice, her tone not playful like usual, "if you want to see Helmut, ask him to cooperate and help us on this, I am absolutely on board."

Both men scrunched their faces at her change of tune, knowing to be even more wary than when her voice sounded serious. She turned to face them, stopping their journey to the hotel to address the two properly.

"He knows all of Hydra's secrets." Bucky aims his words at Sam, "Don't you remember Siberia?"

The question was obviously rhetorical, but Y/N remembered it far too well. The event that fractured her only ever family. Being who she was, the accords were never going to fly, but the aftermath they lead to was catastrophic. She went on the run with Steve and Sam, finding ways every now and again to slip away for weeks at a time to visit Bucky.

"So you're just gonna go sit in a room with this guy?" Sam asks blatantly doubtful.

Bucky eyes both of his friends warily, "Yes."

"I'm sorry, how are you so okay with this?" Sam directs at Y/N, who had already began walking in the direction her map lead to. She assumed the conversation was over, not feeling the need to explain herself.

Y/N doesn't stop her ambling towards the hotel, now only a few minutes away. The boys surely follow after her, "It's pretty simple Sammy, I'd rather have someone I hate twelve percent less help us make things right before John even has a chance."

"Twelve percent?" Bucky queries, both him and Sam quickening their paces to catch up with her.

"Yeah," She threw a grin over her shoulder at them, "obviously an estimate. But, if I actualised my hatred at this current time, Helmut is at steady seventy five percent, while John is presently at eighty seven percent."

The two men nodded at her theory, silence settling over the group as they walked the final few minutes to the hotel. It was a small independent Bed and Breakfast with a black illuminated sign reading 'Sutton's B&B'.

"Three rooms please, whatever you have will do we aren't picky." Sam asked the tired elder lady at the front desk, flashing his pearly whites for extra charisma. Y/N found out a long time ago that her presence often frightened most women, she didn't have much experience when it came to charming them, that was Sam's area of expertise.

Bucky stood beside Y/N as Sam spoke with the front desk lady, his body nearly falling slack as the brunette woman leaned her weight against him. He steadied himself, wrapping his right arm around her figure- he had no reason to, other than he felt like it. They didn't shift away from each other when Sam turned back with a key each for them.

"I've been real nice and given Bucky the double, because I doubt he'd fit in a single bed. Y/N and I are sharing a twin single." Sam quietly said, feeling himself betting closer and closer to asking what was his friends deal.

He wanted a couple more days to clear the air before questioning the two, and maybe by then they'd have a straight answer for him rather than them both denying it.

"Night, James, message me if you need anything." Y/N implored in a hushed tone as the trio reached the super soldier's room for the night. She squeezed his side tightly and a small kiss landed on her forehead as they parted.

Bucky unlocked his door, smiling at his two friends, "Goodnight."

The old door clicked behind him, and Sam tugged along the sleepy ex assassin "Come on, you need to sleep if you want to destroy John Walker."

"Sammy?" Y/N asked with a small yawn, eyes attempting to find their room.

He pointed at a door a few steps away, locating their number, "Yeah?"

"You always know just what to say." She hummed, using her key and immediately flopping down on the small bed with a thud.

part six?

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#fanfic #fanfiction #Bucky #Bucky barnes #x reader #x y/n #imagine #Bucky x reader #bucky x y/n #Bucky fanfic #tfatws #fatws #the falcon and the winter soldier #falcon and the winter solider spoilers #the winter soldier #fluff #smut #cute #romance #Bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #Bucky barnes imagine #Bucky imagine #bucky masterlist #james bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes

[dinogoofy]

Erron black/F! Reader

Old friend.

This one took a little bit, sorry if it's not quite as quality as my other fics!

MAJOR TW for Guns, threats, and Kano being a dick to precious puppies.

You and Erron black had grown up together. Two kids brought closer by horrible lives. Sharing the scraps of food you had with each other. Ranting about awful parents, ranting about school. In your teenage years, you were the one to patch him up after fights. He was the one to beat the shit out of your bullies. The two of you hated that town and everyone in it. You used to think the two of you would stay as thick as thieves forever. Your paths only split when you wanted to live a normal life. Live the peaceful, country way you had seen so many others do, but never grew up with yourself. Erron, however, only wanted money, glory. He wanted to take the back roads and do all the things normal folks wouldn't dare to get his fill. 

You didn't understand his choice to be a mercenary, but it wasn't your choice to make for him. Whatever life he wanted to have was good enough for you as long as he made it out of that shitty town. He didn't contact you much. He only really showed up on your doorstep when he was dying and needed someone to patch him up. But at least he was coming to see you, right? 

With a sigh you stepped into your little country home, smiling slightly at the immediate sounds of your fur babies running to meet you. A blur of orange fur rushing to thread between your legs and trip you, while your sweet pound mutt waited patiently for you to set your keys on the key rack. 

"Hey boys." Chester meowed at you rather loudly, only to take off when you leaned down to pet him. The crazy feline darting under Archie's body as he happily waited for his own pets. It was easy to smile at the warm welcome, immediately a little more relaxed after finally getting home. You stretched at the door, setting your bag down to head into the kitchen.

The first thing you settled on was giving your boys their long-awaited scoops of food, both of them sat down neatly next to each other. Only Archie waited for your go-ahead, Chester already digging in by the time you gave him a laughing "Ok, Archie." 

You patted your mutt before taking some leftovers out, eyes catching on the printed photo of you and Erron from senior year. It's been a few months since last he came to visit. The thought made you a little sad. But the memory of the photo gave you a nostalgic, happy feeling. With an arm slung around his shoulders, and a goofy look on your face, Erron was the complete opposite of you. The goof pretended to be annoyed at your antics, but you could see the slight smile at the corner of his lips.

"Come on! Just one photo. It's not like it's going to kill you, Erron."

"It's not going to kill me, no. But I might end up killing you."

"Pfft- yeah right."

Your smile grew a bit wider. You sat down at the table alone as you finished your dinner. Erron had always been a strange one. Always tough, trying to be unfeeling. Not wanting anyone to be close. Not wanting any affection besides the one-night stands and the women he infatuated. Always the one to flirt, but never with you.

No. Not ever with you. You smirked. He always acted differently around you. More nervous, more fidgety. You'd been in love with him since before you even knew what love truly was. And you had known for years that he loved you back. You had just been waiting for him to admit it. You'd scoffed at yourself time and time again for not making the first move, but Erron wasn't ready for that. You didn't think he was, at least. You just wished he had gotten therapy like you had asked him to.

The scraping of your fork against your plate was your only indication that you had finished eating, you definitely spaced out a bit. You always did when you thought of Erron. Maybe he would visit soon. Maybe you should stop thinking that to make yourself feel better. 

The plate clicked lightly against the floor when you set it down for Archie to lick before you set it in the sink. By the time you turned off all the lights and headed to bed Chester was already asleep on your pillow, Archie curled up in his own bed next to the nightstand. You moved the orange tabby slightly to the side so you could lay down, and he yelled in protest the way that annoyed kitties do. It was easy to slip into a comfortable sleep with your boys next to you. 

The sound of your sweet Archie growling a feral warning was what woke you up that night. You shot out of bed, ripping off the covers and grabbing the shotgun from under your mattress. Archie never growls. An unhinged bark sent a jolt of panic through you, along with Chester, who woke up to sprint under your bed and hide. Archie certainly never barked. Not like that. Not in that way. Something was wrong. You clicked off the safety and cocked the shotgun.

You moved slowly at first, creeping your way over to the sound of Archie's growls, but when he let out a sharp whine, your vision went white-hot with rage. 

"GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM MY DOG!" You shouted, finally turning the corner and into the living room where two figures lurked. The lamp was still on, and as your eyes adjusted you could make out the masked face of Erron, and the form of some asshole looming over Archie with your baby backed into a wall. 

Erron didn't respond at all at the sight of you. The unknown figure by your dog stood up slowly and whistled.

"You did say she was a feisty one." You scowled, keeping the gun pointed squarely on the man.

"Erron. I don't know why you're fucking here, but please tell me you don't know this asshole so I can just shoot him." Erron rolled his eyes at you. The figure laughed, moving away from Archie, who sprinted over to you so that he could cower behind your legs. Your eyes were trained on the figure as he proceeded to sit in your own fucking armchair.

"Name's Kano. Leader of the black dragon." The black dragon. The group of mercenaries that Erron had joined. Why the fuck did Erron bring this guy into your home. Erron called your name.

"Set the gun down, sugar." You didn't take your eyes off of Kano. 

"Respectfully, Erron, I don't think I will." Kano laughed, but you didn't think anything was funny. Erron called your name again, strutting over to you carelessly. Archie growled as he got closer. He set a hand on the gun, pushing it down.

"Calm. Down." You huffed but gave in. Sending your friend a nasty look as you lowered your defense. Erron wouldn't willingly let you be in danger. There's no way he would. You had to remember that.

"We came here for some help. 'Know that cave at the edge of your property?" The cave? You found it when you had just moved in, part of an old interlocking set of mining tunnels carved out of the land in the early 1900s. When you checked it out at first, it was Erron who actually went with you. You had a fond memory of fucking around in the tunnel, only to find an old elevator next to a dead-end tunnel with bloody handprints and markings that trailed across the wall and into the elevator. That was enough to get the two out of there. What would they want with it?

"What about it?"

"Those runes we found in it match what a client is looking for. We just want to check it out, and get outa' you're way." You laughed, glancing between Kano, who was currently putting a cigarette out on your favorite chair- and Erron, who still stood next to you in an almost defensive manner.

"Am I supposed to believe that there's no catch to this? No killer secrets? No blackmail?" Kano snickered, standing from his chair and walking over to you. You stood strong, but the beating of your heart sped up. You hated feeling afraid.

"The catch is, you show us the cave, and we leave your little buddy here alive." You scowled, and Erron sighed deeply at his boss, knowing already that he had started something.

"First of all, you don't get shit if you threaten my dog, asshole. You piece of human sh-"

"Just think of it as a favor between friends." Erron interrupted. You frowned at his words. His paycheck was definitely depending on it. Your thoughts split In two different ways. One, the fact that he's using your friendship to manipulate you into doing him a favor, two… it felt relieving that he still thought of you as friends. 

You finally gave in, sighing and relaxing almost completely. Archie nuzzles your leg before running off. You turned your head just slightly to watch him out of confusion when a sudden yank catches your attention. Kano had snatched your shotgun straight out of your hands. Erron stiffened next to you.

"I'll take that!" 

"You-!" Erron held out back just as you went to lunge at Kano. You struggled against him for just a moment before he gave you a bit of a push to set you back. What had gotten into him?!

"Ah ah ah! Sorry, Sheila, there's no way we're gonna let you keep this on you. Erron?" Kano taunted. You went to yell in protest but only yelped, Erron's hands suddenly holding onto your arm.

"Just comply. It'll be over soon." Erron whispered. You grumbled in protest but didn't fight it as they took you from your warm house. 

Kano walked proudly ahead of you and Erron while navigating to the cave. Fucker didn't even know where he was going. You had been scowling the whole time, a surprising feat while Erron was around. Speaking of which, His hand on your arm had softened its hold, but the strangest thing was that he still wouldn't look at you.

"This is your idea of a visit?" You mumbled to him. He shook his head, his heavy steps landing on a twig he forcefully snapped as you walked. He was definitely in a mood.

"This' a business trip, hun. Wouldn't be here if it weren't for that." You snickered.

"Yeah right. You'd end up here eventually." You said the words but didn't quite believe them as you walked. "Don't think you could stay away if you tried."

"-And I tried." You ignored the painful sting in your chest, going silent before shouting another set of directions to Erron's dipshit boss. You could almost feel Erron's gaze change as his eyes remained on you.

"-look, I didn't want you to get caught up in all this. It's bad enough that I'm here now." The words made you frown slightly. You elbowed Erron in the side, trying to make a little light of the situation.

"Better than Kano coming out here by himself." Erron laughed. 

" 'Betcha you'd've killed him the moment he stepped into your house."

"I almost did." You couldn't see Erron's smile through his mask, but the happy look in his eyes was infectious. You couldn't help but blush a bit, walking closer to him. His hold on your arm was loose and comfortable at this point, and you couldn't make yourself break out of it.

"You lovebirds done shit-talking or what?" God, you hated this Kano guy. The rest of the walk was silent. After about 30 minutes of almost tripping on fallen limbs, you finally made it to the cave. 

"Quite a big place for such a little property, huh?" You didn’t respond to Kano. Ignoring him as Erron guided you to walk past him.

"Oh don't be coy. Where'd all that fire go?" Kano was taunting you again, but both you and Erron ignored him this time. Erron spoke over him when he tried to speak a third time.

"Which way d'you go from here?" You laughed.

"You think I know? I try to stay away from this place as much as I can. Haven't been here since you were with me." Erron furrowed his eyebrows, taking a moment to click a flashlight on. He looked around for a moment, before setting out in a direction. Kano followed behind, a little too close to your back for your liking. 

Shivers ran rampant across your skin when you finally found the elevator. Kano pushed past you forcefully, knocking you off balance. Erron caught you with a steady hand around your waist. You relaxed in his touch, and once again pushed forward.

"Ahh! Look at that beauty!" Kano took out a camera, and you flinched at the flash. 

"I'm sure the client won't mind if we keep a few copies of the pictures to ourselves, now would he?" Kano laughed. Being around Erron was nice, but you were losing your patience. It was late, you had work in the morning, and you were just plain tired of this black dragon bullshit. You didn't notice when Erron's arm fell away from yours.

"Look, I showed you the cave. Just give me my gun, and let me go back to bed." Kano snickered at your words, Erron loomed behind you. 

"I don't think you'll be going far." Kano spat on the ground after he spoke, you scowled. 

"Excuse me?" Kano's smile was gritty and disgusting. He whistled at Erron, walking past you with your shotgun held loosely in his grip. You contemplated snatching it, but when you whipped around-

It almost felt like you couldn't breathe. You were staring down the barrel of Erron's pistol for a long moment. 

"Look kid, we can't have someone like you knowing about this cave thing, it's too risky and all that blabber, you understand. You've been such a delightful host and all, but it's time for you to go." Kano laughed.

"Can't tell any divine dipshits about our little meeting if she's dead anyway, now can she Erron?" Erron had never been so out of focus before, his stomach wringing in knots. He hardly knew what to think as he pointed the gun at you, something he'd never thought he'd ever do.

"Hey?" A little voice called out. A little face leaning down to peer at the little boy with his head buried unto his knees. He hardly glanced up. 

"Hi." He had murmured so quietly.

"Do you want to share this sandwich with me? You look lonely."

"Erron?" Your voice quivered. Panic was written all over your face. His finger lingered on the trigger as his chest squeezed.

"Sit still, dumbass." You squeezed his bloodied arm.

"That shit burns!" He hissed out. You laughed at him, dabbing at the large cut he had gotten from some idiot with broken glass on the school grounds.

"Well duh. It's isopropyl alcohol. It's gonna burn like hell." He was cute when he was confused. You laughed. 

"It disinfects the wound, Erron."

"... I knew that. I'm not fucking stupid." He had grumbled.

"Nothin' personal." He finally spoke. The words hurt him as they came out.

"That's not how you use a rifle." Throwing popcorn, at Erron, you quickly stole the remote to turn the volume up.

"Shh! Just shut up and enjoy the movie. Westerns aren't exactly supposed to be realistic."

"Well I can't really enjoy an unrealistic western, can I?- he's holding that wrong-"

Your face started to shift from panic to anger as kano patted Erron's shoulder, walking back into the rickety elevator.

"Panicked now, aren't ya Sheila? Want to beg? Or are you the proud sort?" You snarled at him.

"No." You said stiffly. "No. I want to see you do it, Erron." Kano laughed from the elevator. Erron remained stiff, his smooth voice taking a moment to come out.

"Look, you don't know-"

"I said do it, Erron!" You snapped, stepping closer to the cowboy. He didn't step back, his hand didn't waver. You stepped close enough to him that the barrel of his pistol pressed to your forehead. 

"Go ahead! Be Kano's little lapdog. Shoot me." You spat, the adrenaline working its way into your system. "Shoot me and say goodbye to all the FUCKING years I took care of your ass and bury me in that shitty town we grew up in Erron!" Erron's stone-faced seriousness finally broke, and even though he was wearing a mask you could still see the rage in his eyes as he grabbed you by the collar of your shirt and forcefully yanked you closer to him. He kept the gun pressed to the side of your head.

"Do you have any idea who you're provoking? You. don't. know me. anymore. Sugar. You don't have any idea what I'm capable of!" You let out a curt laugh.

"You and I both know I still do." You snarled. Both of you went silent, the tension crackling between the two of you. You could see the panic that hid under the steely overlaying emotion in his eyes. Only Kano's ongoing childish taunts remained.

"Well then, Erron? Get on with it!" Erron's stiff posture remained, he spoke to Kano, but his eyes remained on yours. 

"Fuck off Kano." Kano didn't take that well.

"Excuse me? I'm your boss, dipshit. You can't just-" All of a sudden, Erron pushes you back, reels around, and shoots through the spaces in the old metal elevator, the bullet hits the back of the wall, and ricochets through the old, decaying pulley rope that held it up. Kano looks up in horror and rage. His screaming and cursing faded as the elevator launched down and crashed to the very bottom of the mine.

All is silent. All that can be heard is your labored breathing from all the shouting and adrenaline.

"Still want me to shoot you?" Erron asks. Speaking smug words with a tone only you could recognize as him trying to hide his panic. You scowled again. Walking over to him with tears stinging at the corner of your eyes.

"You're such a fucking asshole!" You shouted, punching him in the shoulder. Erron didn't flinch.

"And?" You couldn't stop the tears now. All the pain, and heartbreak, and sadness rushing out at once. You weekly hit his shoulder one more time, and grappled him into a hug, burying your face into his chest without being able to stop your sobs. Erron stood stiff. After a moment, his arms slid around your waist, and he held you back tightly.

"Kano's gonna kill you for that." You laughed through the tears. Erron didn't respond. His hand left your side for only a moment, and when it held onto again he had taken off his mask, letting it drop to the floor. Erron buried his face into your hair, holding you a bit tighter than before. 

It was quiet again. Erron squirmed after a moment.

"...I wouldn't have buried you in that town." You snorted, not taking your face out of his chest, biting your nails into the fabric of his shirt just a bit.

"So you admit you would've shot me?" Erron didn't react to the words. He only sighed into your hair, lifting a hand to pinch your ear. You pulled yourself out of his chest with a laugh, and his hands settled on your waist. You wiped your tears, your nose, and tried to make yourself a little better. It didn't really work. Erron could see that. He lifted a calloused hand to your cheek anyway.

"Just because you've come to your fucking senses doesn't mean I'm not still mad." You sniffled, smiling still as the bitter words fell out of your mouth.

"Yeah, well you should be. Kano was being an asshole anyway. That's the only reason I let you go." Erron coughed, you raised an eyebrow at him, clearly not buying it. He rolled his eyes, huffing through his nose.

"... Maybe not the only reason." The smile returned to your face, and you rolled your eyes at him this time. At this point, it was almost like he didn't realize it himself.

"God, you're really not fooling anyone, dumbass." Erron scowled, about to retort when you decided, Fuck it. And clutched his face to pull him into a kiss. He didn't respond at first, stiff and uneasy.  Always so stubborn. After a second or two though, he melted into your lips, pulling you closer. It was hard to hold on to all your anger when he was just so kissable. He'd get his ass beaten for this little stunt. You would make sure of that, but right now all you wanted to focus on was the relieving kiss you had waited so long for.

#mk erron black #erron black x reader #erron black imagine #erron black reader insert #mortal kombat x reader #mk imagine