#“Why is God always an abusive father figure”

[croutoncretin]

La pietà

[muwapsturniolo]

♱ 𝐁𝐮𝐢𝐥𝐝 𝐆𝐨𝐝, 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐖𝐞’𝐥𝐥 𝐓𝐚𝐥𝐤 ♱

Pt.01 Pt.02

IN WHICH…A virgin meets the new priest of her church, Father Matt, and her world of all things holy begins to crumble.

WARNINGS… NSFW AHEAD! Religious figures, god is mentioned, Demons, religious abuse, mentions of exorcisms, paranormal activity, making out, fingering, blow jobs, pillow humping, breath play, cum eating, rough sex, virginity mentioned, voyeurism, masturbation, blood, orgasms, death, innocent/nieve!reader, asshole!matt. IF I MISSED ANYTHING PLEASE LET ME KNOW!!!

APOLOGIZING NOW TO ANYONE WHO IS SUPER RELIGIOUS! THIS IS NOT MEANT TO DISRESPECT ANYONE, I JUST GOT THE IDEA FROM OTHER SMUTS I'VE READ, THE SONG BY PATD!, AND THE MOVIE MOTHER!

This is a long one, like I'm talking 5k sum words. I hope y'all enjoy.

The dark.

It was something many people, both children and adults alike feared

Nyctophobia.

They hated not being able to see their surroundings correctly, to see the color in their life. They hated being alone in what seemed to be an endless descent into a void.

Y/n was the same..

She hated the dark, always has.

However it wasn't the dark that necessarily scared her, it was the fact she knew she wasn't alone in the dark.

When she was younger, she had imaginary friends, they were her only friends. During the day they were nice to her, playing tag with her outside, and holding fun conversations about rainbows and unicorns, but as it got closer to dusk,

They began to change.

Their faces would sink in, and they'd start making clicking noises and whispering. They would creep around her home and tell her to do bad things. She'd beg them to stop, fat tears rolling down her cheeks as she did so.

They wouldn't listen, instead they'd get violent.

When nighttime fell, they would grab her feet in bed, attempting to drag her off the safety of her mattress. They would scratch at the walls, screaming as their talons left marks along the pink wallpaper.

She'd curl into a ball, tears rolling down her face as she prayed for god to stop them, but god didn't listen. Her prayers only seemed to enrage her imaginary friends, their screams getting louder as their actions became more violent.

But the only time they'd stop was at 3 AM.

Their screams would suddenly stop, their violent actions coming to an end.

And it was always because of Matt.

He was a ghastly pale boy, his skin being a stark contrast to her warm soft brown skin. He had a round face and sandy brown hair, his blue eyes were piercing.

And he always had a smile on his face.

He'd crawl into bed with the young girl, wrapping his small arms around her and whispering in her ear.

"It's ok Y/n, you'll understand eventually."

She was confused by his words, not understanding what he was talking about. But she never had time to dwell upon it, her eyes falling shut as sleep overtook her.

She was always able to fall asleep quickly when Matt was there,

He was comforting...He was her savior.

But that was yanked away when her parents held her first communion, crowning the girl a child of god and letting her consume the blood and body of Christ.

Her imaginary friends no longer appeared, Matt was gone.

Oddly, she missed it, the nights in which she used to fear and learned to love were taken away in the blink of an eye and she hated it. She would tell her parents how she missed Matt, how she missed the conversations they held at night.

To say her parents were frightened would be an understatement. They accused her of being promiscuous when she didn't even know what promiscuous meant.

They accused her of being friends with the devil.

Instead of just understanding she was a child with an active imagination,

They locked her in the hallway closet.

They wouldn't let her out for a week, ignoring her screams and pleas to be let out.

She was scared, hurt, confused...She didn't understand why she was being punished this way.

So when she was dragged inside her home, soaking wet from the storm outside, and her mother opened the closet,

She lost it.

She screamed as loud as she could, kicking, screaming, and fighting for them not to lock her in that closet again.

"Please! I'm sorry, it won't happen again!" She pleads helplessly to her father. Her glossy eyes stared into her fathers deep and stern ones, hoping he would have a change of heart.

He didn't.

Her body fell backward as he shoved her into the small space, her head hitting a shelf. Ignoring the pain in the back of her head, she scrambled forward, attempting to stop them from closing the door...But it was no use.

The door slammed shut, trapping her in the dark.

Her fists banged against the door, her screams raw and ear-piercing as she begged them to be let out.

but they don't listen.

Her screams eventually come to a stop, turning into soft and raspy whimpers, still pleading for forgiveness under her breath.

They ignored her, giving each other a look before heading to their bedroom to hopefully get some sleep.

A few hours had gone by, and Y/n managed to curl into a ball on the floor, her fingers dancing in the sliver of light casting from the hallway underneath the door.

Her eyes were dead, her throat sore from all the screaming and shouting she was doing earlier.

Suddenly, she feels a presence.

She tense, her fingers stopping all movement.

She thought that it was one of her parents coming to let her out of the closet, but that thought was thrown out when she heard a clicking noise.

The same clicking noise from her childhood.

She scrambles to sit up, her back touching the door as the hairs on her neck stand up.

Her eyes dart around in the darkness, her pupils straining, trying to find what she was looking for.

But she couldn’t see, it was dark.

Her breathing is harsh, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she tries to figure out if her mind is playing tricks on her. She comes to the conclusion that she was in fact hallucinating, and tries to calm down, but that changes in a split second.

The clicking noise happens a centimeter away from her ear.

She lets out an ear-piercing scream, throwing herself further away from whatever was trapped in the closet with her.

It happens so quickly, the clicking noises and screaming multiplying.

She's instantly brought back to all the times she would lay in bed at a young age, screaming for her imaginary friends to stop torturing her.

"Stop it! Please stop! Let me out!" She sobs.

She curled into a ball, her hands over her ears as her eyes clenched shut.

She looked like a child, a scared child.

The screaming and clicking goes on forever, day and night, not that she could tell the time.

All sense of time had been thrown out the window.

She doesn't know how long she was in the closet, the door never opening until eventually,

It did.

The screams stop immediately, the quietness seeming so loud.

Y/n opens her eyes, blinking profusely as she adjusts to the light she hasn’t seen in days.

Once they do finally adjust, she sees a hand outstretched toward her. She follows the limb upward and her eyes land on Matt.

Her savior.

He has a warm and welcoming look on his face, contradictory to the shadows standing behind him.

“It’s ok Angel-” He voices softly as he sees her frightened eyes and splotchy cheeks.

“Take my hand,” He urges.

Hesitantly, the girl takes his hand, no longer wanting to be in the closet. As she rises to her feet her legs begin to shake, weak from being trapped in the closet with nothing to eat or drink besides a single water bottle and a loaf of bread.

Matt wraps an arm around her waist, a neutral expression on his face as he supports her shaking frame.

“Look at you, so weak and scared. They had you in there for six days.” He coos.

Suddenly her parents appear, making her flinch back in fright. She was scared they were going to put her in the closet again, trapping her with the demons.

“Did you do what I asked?” Matt questions with a straight voice. Both adults nod, their eyes casted on traumatized Y/n.

“Yes, Father…They are in your car.”

Matt hums in thanks and looks down at Y/n, “let’s go Angel.”

Her parents watch as she’s pulled out of the home, mumbling a prayer to themselves that their daughter be saved, and whatever demon inside her banished so she can live a full life.

Matt opens the passenger side door, helping her get situated in the car before walking over to the driver's side.

His eyes land on her parents standing by the door.

As they hold eye contact, they can’t help but feel a chill run down their spine. They watch as an eerie smirk makes its way onto the Father’s face.

Matt watches as her parents are yanked backward, the front door slamming shut.

He chuckles and settles into the car, starting the engine and pulling off down the street.

Y/n sits quietly in the car, her eyes dull and face grim.

Matt side-eyes her but says nothing, continuing the drive to their destination. Midway through the drive, he reaches into the backseat and places a brown paper bag in her lap.

“Eat. You need the energy.”

Y/n stares down at the paper bag full of food, her stomach grumbling at the sight. However, she doesn’t dive in.

“F-for what?”

Her voice is raspy, her throat dry from all the screaming and crying she has done. She lifts her head and looks at Matt who’s already looking at her with a devious smile.

“Your exorcism.”

Her heart dropped along with her head, more tears falling from her eyes. She had completely forgotten that she was supposed to have an exorcism…She didn’t need one. There was no use in trying to beg him to listen, she figured his and everyone else’s mind was made up. Her hands shake as she begins to eat the food, the sandwich tasting rotten as she tries to wrap her head around what her life has come to.

Eventually, they pull into the lot of a rundown motel. The dim and half-lit sign read “ Cameron Motel”.

Weeds were growing all over the parking lot that had a few dirty cars parked. The building itself was baby pink with baby blue trimming that had graffiti all over it. Some of the windows were boarded up and others were broken.

She was so busy staring at the beat up building, she didn’t realize Matt had gotten out the car. She jumps when her door opens, her head turning and looking up at a stoic Matt.

“Get out of the car Angel.”

Her breath hitches but she does as told, hugging herself as she stands in front of him. He grabs her arm, and quickly drags her towards the entrance.

Despite the eerie and dark aura of the motel, she can’t help but find an appeal to it. She knew that if the building was taken care of, it would look beautiful.

Yet, she still finds herself crossing, her index and middle finger drawing a cross that catches her head and chest, to both her shoulders.

As they enter the dingy building, her nostrils immediately begin to burn with the smell of asbestos and formaldehyde.

She coughs a little as she takes in her surroundings. Just like the outside, the inside was decaying right before her eyes.

She’s taken out of her examination by a girl in her bra and underwear running past her, the girl laughing and squealing as a boy chases her in his boxers. She jumps in shock and presses herself closer to Matt, her cheeks warm from seeing the girl so exposed.

Matt ignores her obvious signs of being flustered and keeps walking.

As they walk down the dimly lit hallway, she hears all sorts of things behind closed doors.

Screaming, crying, moaning, and tv static.

The occupants of the motel seemed to have a very different outlook on life.

But who was she to judge? She was the one here for an exorcism, not them.

They approach a door at the end of the hallway, the room number reading 333. Matt pushes the door open and to Y/n's surprise, the room isn't as dirty like she thought it would be.

A king size bed sits in the middle of the room, adorned in clean white sheets. The floor is carpeted with no stains, and there is a tv sitting on a stand across the bed.

Matt gently pushes her inside the room and closes the door, throwing the bag on his arm on a nearby chair. She stands awkwardly in the middle of the room as Matt walks around. Her head is cast downward but she can see him removing his blazer.

He throws it down on the edge of the bed, soon sitting next to it and facing her. He examines her timid frame and hums to himself.

They sit in a pregnant silence before he finally speaks, "Take that bag with you into the bathroom. Get yourself ready."

She eyes the bag on the chair and finally looks back to Matt, "W-whats in there?"

"Just take the bag, and get ready," he demands. She nods and timidly grabs the bag, holding it to her chest as she makes her way into the bathroom. She sets the bag on the counter and unzips it, all her movements stopping when she sees what's inside.

She pulls out a razor and some type of women's shaving cream, shampoo and conditioner, and the final product,

A white dress with a thin pair of white satin underwear.

She takes out the white dress, holding it up by the shoulder straps, and examines it.

It looked like her usual nightgowns, except more provocative.

Her cheeks warm at the thought of seeing herself in the dress, Matt seeing her in the dress. She sets the dress down and looks back at the shaving products. She's a bit confused at the idea of shaving considering her mother and father never let her do so, telling her that children of the lord don't need to shave, and if she does shave she's a Jezebel.

But that's what she is right? That's what her father has deemed her as,

A Jezebel.

With that, she strips herself of her clothing, climbing into the shower, and cleanses herself. With never having shaved before, she takes quite a bit of time getting rid of the hair on her body, especially in other areas.

She climbs out of the shower and dries off, rubbing a vanilla-scented lotion into her skin and slipping on the dress, underwear, and knee highs.

She stares at herself in the mirror and examines herself.

Although she's exposed, looking whorish as her father would put it, she likes what she sees in the mirror. She loves the way her brown skin is a stark contrast to the white dress, and how soft and plump her skin is.

She has a glow...an Angelic glow.

She slowly turns towards the door and hesitates as she reaches for the handle. She's a nervous wreck at the idea of Matt seeing her so exposed, no one has ever seen her in such a state since she was a baby.

She debates on locking herself in the bathroom, but she knows that's not logical. With a fast-beating heart, she slowly opens the door, her left hand clutching the rosary that hangs in the valley of her breasts, tucked into her lingerie.

She steps out of the bathroom, her eyes landing on Matt who's still sitting on the edge of the bed, but now he's smoking a cigarette. He doesn't look at her, keeping his eyes on the TV that's playing nothing but static.

"F-Father?" She addresses shakily.

Matt says nothing as he stands up from the bed, walking over to the window and drawing the curtains shut.

"Sit in the middle of the bed, on your knees, palms turned upward," he demands, loosening his tie. She tenses but does as told, her heart beating wildly as she anticipates what's to come.

Matt ashes out the cigarette, throwing his tie somewhere in the room as he finally turns to her.

She watches as he looks her up and down, his eyes staying on her chest with an unrecognizable look in his eyes. She flinches when he finally makes eye contact with her, her head dropping downward almost instantly.

"What did you see?"

She looks up in confusion, not understanding the question. Matt moves to the foot of the bed, standing tall above her.

"In the closet, what did you see?"

Her breath hitches at the question, scared to tell him the truth.

As if he's reading her mind, he tells her to tell him the truth.

"I-I...S-shadows...."

Matt hums, taking a step closer to the bed. "Shadows...and what were the shadows doing?"

"Sometimes they would j-just stand quietly...staring at me. O-other times they are whispering, screaming...clicking."

Matt says nothing for a moment, staring at her with such an intense gaze she feels something in her lower abdomen. "And how long has this been going on?"

"S-since I was five... but it stopped when I was 7, when I first had the body and blood of Christ." Matt's eyes turn into slits, his posture becoming tense.

"Your parents told me about your imaginary friends, how you explained they would go bump in the night but would stop. Why and how would they stop?"

Matt's words become quick, almost as if he's excited, anticipating her answer.

"T-they would stop at 3 AM- The devil's hour." Her heart drops as he cuts her off, her eyes wide in fear.

"W-what?"

"The devil's hour, anytime between 3 and 4 AM when demons, ghosts, anything considered hellish are their most powerful. They can cross borders between realms, speak to the living, touch the living." His words hint at something, something Y/n isn't picking up.

"T-they were demons?" She whispers softly, her hands that were still facing upward shaking and beginning to sweat. Matt smiles at her, that devilish smile that she finds herself often thinking and dreaming about.

"I believe so...So tell me, why and how they would stop." He urges once more. "I um...They-they would stop when he appeared..."

"Who's he?"

"Ma-" She stops herself as her mind begins to connect the dots. The boy who she deemed her savior, the one who showed up at 3 AM and made the things that go bump in the night disappear. The boy who would cuddle her at night and hold small conversations with her.

She wasn't sure at first, but as she started to analyze his features, everything from the head down, it was the same person.

He was standing in front of her...In all his glory.

Matt's grin grows tenfold as he sees she's connecting the dots.

"Did you miss me, angel?"

She thought if she ever saw the boy she considered a friend again, she would be jumping for joy, but instead, she crawled backward towards the head of the bed.

She was scared.

Her hands shake as she covers her mouth, the reality setting in.

"Y-you're the Devil!" she accuses softly.

Matt chuckles and turns toward the mirror behind him, still holding eye contact with the frightened girl.

"Devil? No. A product of hell itself? Yes."

Y/n feels her whole world crumbling. She couldn't wrap her head around how her life had come to this, why she was the one picked for this?

What could she have done from the time she was born, to be deemed of this fate? Was this her punishment for what she had done in a past life? Was this punishment for using God's name in vain when she was younger?

"I told you when we were younger that one day you'll understand, that time is now." He grabs a bottle of wine and pours himself a glass, taking a long sip before turning around and leaning against the dresser.

"You see, your mother wanted a baby, and with your father shooting blanks, she was never able to have one. Despite calling herself a woman of god, she made a deal at the crossroads with my father, the devil himself. She was dumb, crying and begging for a child so bad, she didn't care about the repercussions that came with it."

Y/n feels as if she's going to pass out, all this information too much for her to handle.

"So she made the deal, the deal to give her little baby girl to one of the devil's sons. Me."

y/n quickly shakes her head, refusing to believe the truth. "Y-you're lying! You're a liar! She would have never done that!" She shouts, tears running down her face. she begins to pray, hoping that god will listen and make all of this stop, hoping that he will save her. Matt grows angry, throwing the glass of red wine on the floor as he crawls onto the bed. He grips her jaw tightly, getting in her face.

"Stop praying! God can't help you, he was never able to help you!" He bellows, the whole room seeming to shake. She opens her watering eyes and Matt relaxes just the smallest bit. He removes his harsh grip on her jaw and wipes her tears away.

"You're pretty when you cry Angel, so pretty."

He inches closer to her face, his breath fanning softly. " You're mine Angel, you always were-" His hand drops from her face and down to her shoulder, his fingers fiddling with the straps of her dress.

"-You know it's true, I know you feel the connection. I kept you safe when we were younger, making all the bad stop."

Her thighs tense as his other hand grazed the freshly shaved skin, his fingers dancing along the hem of the dress.

"I've only made you feel good, I showed you how good life could be in both your daydreams and at night. I broadened your mind, I gave you pleasure."

She gasps softly at his last words.

"T-that was you....My thoughts a-and the moment in the confessional?"

He nods, a soft smile on his face, "that it was. I knew you'd appreciate it, you never felt a sense of belonging following that path. You knew they were lying, sex isn't bad, touching yourself isn't bad, and reading whatever you want isn't bad. You enjoy those things, I want you to enjoy those things. I want you to be free, I can give it to you. you just have to trust me...Do you trust me?"

She comes to the conclusion that he's right, he never lied to her. he's only ever broadened her mind, gave her what she craved, lusted after.

He was her savior.

He was her god.

"Tell me you trust me Angel, grant me the access to give you freedom." she looks to her right, watching his hand toy with the thin string on her shoulder.

She doesn't know what he means by freedom, but she wants to be free. She knows there's more to life than her small town and the path of God. She wants to experience things, she wants to create memories,

She wants to live.

With dried tears on her cheeks, she looks back up at him.

"I trust you."

That's all Matt needed to hear before his lips crashed against hers, hungry and ready to devour her. Y/n is caught off guard, never having kissed anyone before. She doesn't exactly know what to do so she lets Matt take the lead.

Matt doesn't care, he knows of her innocence, and he loves it. In fact, it's a turn-on for him, knowing that he is the once who's going to ruin her.

He pulls away from the feverish kiss, trailing his lips down her jaw and to her neck. His hands rest on her waist, his knee in between her thighs and lightly rubbing against her core. He grabs her hand and places it on the tent in his pants.

He can feel her tense, he can hear her heart thumping wildly.

It drives him wild.

"You have me so worked up Angel, this is all for you. You did this." He holds her hand as he guides it in an up-and-down motion, moaning softly in her ear, expressing the effect she has on him.

It gets her hot and bothered, that tingly feeling she usually feels in between her legs when she usually thinks of Matt expanding. Matt chuckles, his lips brushing against her ear as he gently ruts into her palm.

"I can smell you Angel...you smell so sweet, delectable, divine even."

Y/n pants heavily, her body feeling electric. It felt just like her dreams, so real, intimate, right.

It felt right.

Every inch of her body that he touches feels hot, her muscles flexing at the soft yet heavy touch.

He leaves multiple hickeys along her neck and collarbone, sucking and biting at the skin in a way to claim her.

He pulls back and and yanks her towards him by her thighs, he stares down at her, appreciating how her curls fan out across the white pillows, adoring the marks he created on her body.

She was Angelic.

He pushes her legs apart and looks down, grinning wildly as he sees the wet patch in the underwear. His finger tickles her inner thighs as he takes his time getting to her core, her chest rising and falling harshly.

"When you touched yourself, did you think of me?"

He chuckles as she turns her head away from him. "I know you did, I know of everything you dreamt of. How you imagined my fingers plunging into your mess of a cunt, how you imagined my tongue lapping at your folds."

He rips the underwear off with ease, her eyes widening in shock from the action and now being exposed. She tries to close her legs but he shoves them apart.

"And my personal favorite, was me fucking you so hard, you kept begging me to keep going. Is that what you want Angel? You want me to be your God and fuck you?"

She nods sluggishly, drunk off of his erotic and intoxicating words.

She gasps softly at the foreign feeling of his fingers trailing through her folds. It was nothing like how her fingers felt, it felt better. Her eyes flutter shut as she relishes in the newfound pleasure, only for them to fly open when two fingers are slipped inside of her.

Matt instantly begins to thrust, curling the slim digits in efforts to break the girl. Her jaw drops as her eyes roll back, the lewd squelching noises make her back arch.

"You're so tight-shit- can barely move my fingers Angel. I can't wait to have you wrapped around me." He grunts out as he watches her walls clamp down on his fingers. She's already making a mess and he has barely done anything.

He takes his fingers out and smears her mess over her lips before slowly pushing them side her mouth.

“Suck.”

She does as told and sucks on his fingers, finding herself addicted to her own taste. Matt smirks and slips them out of her mouth, trailing the saliva down her chin to her chest. He wraps his fingers around the rosary and yanks it off, the beads flying all over the bed.

A metaphor for her being stripped of her innocence.

Before she can fix her lips to say something, Matt’s lips crash against hers once more. Her arms wrap around him, her eyes closed as she kisses him back as if her life depended on it.

Matt rips his button-up off, throwing it somewhere in the room before he starts to unbuckle his belt. Once he manages to take his pants off, he pulls away from the kiss and forces her on her knees, a pillow being pushed in between her legs.

He pulls his boxers down making her eyes widen in shock. She's never seen male body parts before, ever. She looks up at Matt, an unsure look in her eyes.

"Go on, put it in your mouth," he persuades, eager to finally feel her mouth on him.

"I-I- don't k-know ho- Yes you do." He cuts her off, his hand wrapped around his own member and jerking himself off. She watches with wide eyes, unintentionally grinding against the pillow in between her legs.

"Put it in your mouth, lick on it like you do your ice cream cones." Matt's mind flashes back to the park, watching her walk away from the ice cream stand licking and sucking on her vanilla cone.

He wanted to claim her that day in the park, taking her under the tree for all to see, but he couldn't, he had to wait.

Y/n hesitantly moves her head forward, giving a small kitten lick to his tip. Matt's whole body shudders, the urge to fuck her mouth too strong.

He snaps.

He fists a handful of her hair and pushes himself in her mouth, groaning loudly as she gags and chokes around him. Her eyes clenched shut as the salty tears streamed down her face. "Fuck-look at me Angel," he grunts as her throat contricts around him.

She manages to open her eyes, her tears flowing even faster.

"Keep em' open," he says beginning to bob her head up and down. She does her best to follow his orders, her mouth opened as wide as it could go. She figures out that she should breathe through her nose instead of her mouth, the air flowing into her lungs easier. However, that was short-lived when Matt pinches her nose, preventing her from breathing. Instead of bobbing her head up and down, he thrusts his hips harshly, enjoying the choking and gargling noises coming from the girl on her knees.

She tries to breathe through her mouth, but it's proven difficult with the speed at which his genitalia is abusing her throat, and yet

She loves it.

She shamelessly ruts against the pillow between her legs, chasing that euphoric feeling she felt not too long ago in the confessional. She knows if her parents saw the ludicrous acts she was performing on a male, they would have a heart attack. But she didn't care, she loved how warm she felt, how safe she felt.

She loved being used.

She looks up at Matt, watching how beautiful he looks with his head thrown back and jaw slacked. It's an image that will forever be burned inside her brain.

Suddenly his thrusts stop, a warm and salty liquid filling up her mouth. He pulls himself out of her mouth, watching as his semen leaks past her lips. Instead of telling her to swallow, he wraps a hand around her throat and kisses her.

He moans into the kiss, lapping his own fluids out of her mouth.

He lifts her back onto the bed with ease, crawling over her panting and dazed form. He settles in between her legs, already lining himself up with her clenching hole.

Y/n doesn't know what's next, she's still trying to catch her breath, but she doesn't have much time to dwell on it once Matt shoves himself inside her. A strangled yelp leaves her throat and her hand flies to his abdomen, attempting to stop him or at least slow him down.

But Matt does neither, instead, he begins to pound into her relentlessly.

"I-It b-burns!" She yelps, trying to stop his brutal pace. He ignores her cries of pain, his eyes trained on the blood seeping out of her cunt, coating his cock and painting the hem of the white lingerie adorning her body. He lets out a deep and animalistic growl, his grip on her thighs tightening at the sight.

"You love it-fuck- you love the burn. It feels so good doesn't it Angel? You love the way my cock stretches you out, the way it fills you up so good you can feel it in your lungs,"

It's as if he's warping her mind, forcing her to believe his words,

and that's because he is.

With each word he speaks, the burning pain becomes pleasurable, her eyes rolling back in ecstasy. Her arms drop to the sides of her head, her body too weak to move on its own.

Small noises and nonsensical babbles exit her throat, her mind dizzy and fogged by the pleasure she's receiving. She couldn't believe that this is what sex feels like. She couldn't understand how something so heavenly could be considered a sin when it's so euphoric.

She begs and pleads for him to give her more, to make her feel alive.

"P-please! Please please ple-Oh God!" She arches her back when a certain spot inside of her is stimulated. Matt lets out an airy laugh, his hips still driving into her at an inhuman pace,

"That's right Angel, beg for me, beg for your God."

In the height of her pleasure, she begins to feel..odd. Almost as if there are people in the room with them. She manages to focus her eyes behind Matt, and what she sees shakes her to her core.

The shadows, the shadows she has become all too familiar with are watching, watching Matt ravage her. There's a bunch of them crowding the room, their bodies blending into each other as their groans of excitement fill the room. Matt can sense her panic, watching her eyes dart around erratically.

"It's ok Angel, they have to watch," he rasps out, his movements never ending.

"Don't look at them, look at me." He demands. However, she doesn't listen. She can't pull her eyes away from the faceless shadows, captured in a trance by their dark aura.

And that's when she starts to notice other things.

The paint on the walls is peeling, deteriorating right before her eyes. The room begins to reek of death, the smell so pungent she finds it harder to breathe. Particles of dust float in the air, a hazy film coating her eyes.

The room becomes scorching hot, suffocating the girl as a thin layer of sweat covers her body.

Y/n heaves as Matt continuously ruts into her, her chest burning as it screams for oxygen. Too much is going on for her to comprehend, the world moving slowly yet spinning so fast.

Her eyes finally avert back to Matt, her mouth open as no sounds leave her mouth. She sees the eerie smile that plants itself on his face, the dark look in his eyes. If she concentrated hard enough, she could even see the small horns coming out of his head and the pointy tail swaying behind him.

She sees the truth, she sees him for what he is.

The spawn of the Devil himself.

She feels as if her soul is leaving her body, every limb and muscle vibrating. Her jaw goes slack as she feels a sharp pain in her chest, as well as a pleasurable feeling in her lower region. Her eyes roll back as her whole body shakes violently, a metallic taste coats her tastebuds as she begins to cough and sputter out blood. The red liquid stains matts face as well as the white lingerie, before eventually coming to a halt.

Matt finds himself experiencing his own release, throwing his head back as he paints her gummy walls a pearlescent white. He groans as he pulls out of her, his dick falling limp as he crawls backward off the bed. His chest rises and falls quickly as he pulls his pants up, buckling his belt.

He pants as he stares down at her lifeless body, analyzing everything about her deadly appearance. He walks over to the side of the bed, brushing one of her curls out of her face, trailing his fingers through the blood splatter on her face.

"So pretty even in death, an angel plucked of it's wings."

he scoops her up bridal style and holds her close to his chest, her arm dangling as her head is draped back. The door to the room opens, revealing a dark abyss that still holds a blinding light.

He walks over to the door looking down at the dead girl in his arms, the shadows in the room whispering amongst themselves eagerly.

"you'll rise like a phoenix from the ashes, in all its beauty. You'll gain new wings that will set you free. You'll finally be mine...My wife."

He kisses her forehead softly and walks through the threshold of the door, into the darkness.

The door slams behind him, leaving the room empty.

The dingy structure of the motel begins to shake in the wake of the door slamming. The lights begin to flicker, cracks appearing in the ceiling. it's not long before the old and moldy building crumbles in on itself, leaving no trace of Matt and Y/n, or the other tenants and their caricatures of intimacy.

AHHHHHHH ITS FINALLY DONE! IM SORRY IT TOOK SO LONG BUT WITH WHAT I LIKE TO CALL WW1 OF TUMBLR TRULY DRAINED ME AND I NEEDED A BREAK. PLZ LET ME KNOW WHAT YALL THINK AND IF YALL WOULD LIKE TO SEE MORE FICS LIKE THIS ( OBVI WITH A DIFFERENT PLOT).

𝐒𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐨 𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 🍑: @mattslolita @thenickgirl @guccifrog @luverboychris @zayyluvz @mrsmiagreer @chrisssluttywaist @78yaz @freshloveforthefit @3lizaluvs @mattsturniolosgirlfriend @jetaimevous @luxy-nyx @ts-is-my-spirt-animal @iihrtsturniol0 @idontexistman @katw4shereee @madisturn @starlace111 @zivall @adoreindie @imwetforyourmom @sturnsxplr-25 @sturncakez @theyluvme-2315 @moonk1ss3d @@babyalliah-777 @sturniololol @oliviasturniolo21 @ariithereyet @blahbel668

[hxmocrastic]

𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐋𝐮𝐤𝐞 𝐂𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐧 | HCS

Pairing ; {📺+📖} Luke Castellan x GN!Reader

Warnings ; Yandere, Stalking, Gaslighting, Fear of Abandonment, Imminent Kidnapping, Manipulation, Inferiority Complex, Emotional Abuse. ALL CHARACTERS AGED UP 18+

A/N ; Sorry I didn't respond directly to you anon, I accidentally posted this before it was finished and couldn't edit it 💀 But Enjoy!!

Luke is a Gaslighting, Guilt tripping, Boyfailure personified.

At first he takes up his signature friendly act and introduces himself to you first. He even offers to show you around camp !

To him, you're just so adorable. He loves how docile & compliant you are, how your sweet little chin nod's at his every word. You're just so fucking addicting, As soon as he saw you he knew he had to have you.

In order to get you alone & helpless, He'll start spreading false rumors of your parentage, Just to swoop in and shoo those pesky campers away. See? He's such a good boyfriend ! Why won't you look at him?

He'll even get you into some weaving classes, After all a sword is way too dangerous for someone like you. Don't worry about it! He knows what's best for you !

Luke will gladly take his time in wooing you. Slowly implanting little seeds in that cute little head of yours, Whispering things underneath his breath, Increasing physical contact, Even sending you gifts.

The last encounter he had with his father was a scar that will never heal, and a reminder that the gods see him and his siblings as nothing but cattle awaiting the slaughter.

Underestimated, Undermined, Luke always feels he has to go the extra mile prove himself. He thinks that in the eyes of his father he's worthless but in yours he has a purpose, He's a hero.

He'll do anything to keep up that facade, As he only wishes for you to see him in a glorified light. Isn't that what demigods fight for?? Glory,? It only makes sense that you'd love him too !

But truth is, Although he may sustain his benevolent friendly facade, He sees other's as emerging rivals. Whether it be in 'love' or Competition, He views them as competition.

All his life he'd felt powerless & helpless to the evils that robbed him of his childhood. Like his life wasn't his own, How he was always at the mercy of others whether it be the fates, monsters, or the gods themselves. He's never felt real control.

But at camp he feels like he has some control, some authority of his own. And not just of his own life but of other's too. He's finally at the other end of the stick.

Luke loves the power he has over the camp, how the girls & boys of Aphrodite cabin silently fawn at the slightest glance of his figure.

How his stare alone can send clarisse and her cabin trudging to the steps of their cabin like wet dogs. The power excites him.

But your arrival was different. He would've thought it'd be enough to constantly receive the admiration from camp but he desires more from you.

Luke doesn't just want you to favor him, He wants you to obey him. To hang on his every word. He wants you to worship him, To give him the adoration he would never receive from his bastard father.

This is where it gets dangerous. Once the Luke you knew to be a sweet and protective head counselor, He starts becoming a lot more domineering and unreasonably aggressive. And whenever you asks about, He slips back into his loving demeanor and reassures you softly that everything's alright, You're just seeing things that's all!

But you could've sworn you saw him scowling at your friends. Maybe you were just going crazy, it'd be the only reasonable explanation right? Who'd believe you if you said you heard Luke castellan speaking with another voice, right?

For your own safety, You stay quiet. You abide him and start slipping on a facade of your own. Just play along and you will be fine...

He's your hero, your knight in golden armor, Depend on him and solely on him why would you need anybody else?? Love him and only him, and just maybe your cabin mates will be safe. (Not)

[theoi-crow]

Thank you for all Zeus support posts ♥️ everywhere I go, all my mutuals too, they blast Zeus for being an abusive father. I know it’s because of the modern books and games that’s depicting Zeus this way. But the misinterpretation and mistreatment still get under my nerves.

When it comes to judging Zeus, I noticed ethnocentrism is the biggest problem.

A lot of people judge the ancient world based on their own modern culture and what they fail to realize is that ethnocentrism is the same logic white settlers used against Native Americans. It's the same logic they used when they were kidnapping people from Africa to bring as slaves. It's the same logic used to justify destroying cultures and appropriating them. “We are helping the savages because they don't know any better.” This is the problem when judging a culture based solely on one's own culture. You kill the culture. You force it to follow your rules instead of studying it based on its own terms to better understand why it developed the way it did.

Zeus is a keystone part of the religion and I will always do my best to explain his importance.

I will always do my best to discourage ethnocentric talking points when people try to put him down because they don't realize they are using the same logic colonizers used against my people and every POC culture in history. They don't realize they are essentially calling the ancient Greeks “savages” in the same way white settlers called the same POC people they were killing while stealing their land and resources.

Zeus is the main figure in the Ancient Hellenic religion.

Everyone else is a part of his court but as the king of the gods, his part in the religion is essential and a key component of it is Xenia, hospitality.

When you start to judge the ancient Greek culture based on its own rules you will see that Zeus is order, that's why the theogony starts with chaos, in order to show how Zeus turned chaos into order. When you start to judge the ancient culture based on its own rules you will see that people used Zeus to justify their ancestry so of course he will have human children because, as the king of the gods, the ancient Greeks believed Zeus appointed kings via birthright because monarchies are by birthright. (He can't have them solely with Hera or they will just be gods, he needs to have them with a human to create demigods).

The idea behind him raping women stems from the misunderstanding of what was defined as rape in the ancient world. No matter the age or how willing they were, women back then were not able to consent because they were not in charge of their own lives. The consent needed to come from their fathers/husbands/whatever man was in charge, that's why it's often translated as rape, because there was no consent given by the men in charge because oftentimes they didn't know the child was a demigod until they were older and started showing signs of being different than other humans.

Just like how we have people who compete in the Olympics today, or people that are very talented or gifted, there were a lot of people back then who were also extraordinary humans and instead of thinking “wow, humans can be incredible,” the ancient Greeks believed an extraordinary human was the secret love child of a human and a god, depending on their specialty and which god that fell under, like Alexander the Great who was thought to be the son of Zeus, or Pythagoras (inventor of the Pythagorean theorem) who was thought to be the son of Apollo.

It's okay to acknowledge ancient views were different from modern views and progress for women has changed over time because these are stories that are older than the literal Bible so of course progress will happen and the ancient and modern world will be very different. But it's never okay to judge an ancient culture using the same logic that was used to destroy cultures and enslave people.

I defend Zeus because I do my best to destroy ethnocentric views whenever they pop up.

This is why research is so important and why I try to provide it as often as I can because once you start judging the culture based on its own laws and actual rules, you'll find that:

Zeus is incredible.

[st4rgirllv]

𝐅𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐭. 𝐑𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐨 𝐒𝐮𝐧𝐚

And you keep on falling, baby, figure it out Just drive slow, straightforward, or I'm walking around And your dad keeps calling, tell him, "Cut that shit out" Just keep steering, keep steering now

Synopsis: Late night drives with your bad influence boyfriend, Rintaro Suna

cw: fluff, angst cursing, not proofread, sh mentioned, abusive dad, 3rd year hs suna, mention of sex

"Hello?" Suna picked up his cell phone and sat up, rubbing his eyes. He looked for the time only to see how late it was. "It's 3 a.m., who's this?" He tried to check for a contact, but the screen was blinding him.

"Rin? D-do you think you could... uhm, pick me up?" you asked your boyfriend. He knew something was wrong because you were sniffling and whispering during the call. "Rin?" you panted, trying to calm down. "My- my dad's kind of.. uh, upset and I just don't wanna be here right now."

"Yeah, sure. I'll come by the back. be there in five, okay? Just lay low 'til I get there." Suna reassures you. Okay, well now he's fully awake.

The car drive was silent. Although he's your boyfriend and should ask stuff on why you wanted to be picked up, from the bruises on your face and arms, he thought maybe you'd want to talk at your own pace. It'd be fucking stupid if he asked if you were okay after seeing you like that.

So, he helped you sneak out and get into his car and drove around the neighborhood for at least 30 minutes while you looked out with your hands in between your knees before you spoke.

"Sorry, I had to call you up this late..." You did everything not to look the brunette. "My dad was acting up again and he just had a drink and I happened to be in his way when he threw a baseball so I got a bruise and everything..." you rambled.

"Fuck that," Suna cut you off, turning the corner. He sounded pissed for the right reasons.

"Sorry?" you asked, confused.

"I can't stand you defending your father again and again after he keeps hurting you like this," Suna parked on one of the sidewalks and looked at you. "Have you seen yourself? You're covered in bruises and all you're thinking about is justifying your asshole dad's action." He gestured at you, rolling his eyes.

"I'm not saying that what my dad did was fine! I was saying that it was an accident and that it wasn't his fault because he was drunk!" You explained, tears forming in your eyes.

"Who are you fucking kidding? Look at yourself, you look like you just left a gang fight." He opened the car mirror. "yn... I'm tired of answering your calls just because wanna escape your dad," you looked at each other in silence

"Look," Suna grabbed your arms, bruised with cuts and scars. "Every time you call me I always hope that it's because maybe you miss me or- or that you wanna have phone sex or something, I mean I'd be down to do that," He kept on talking, making you chuckle.

"But I seriously don't wanna hear you say you need me to pick you up while you're sobbing after your dad hit you because that would mean I'd have to see you hurt. That hurts me too."

You were so glad you never believed those dark rumors about Suna because he's quite the opposite. "I'm sorry," was all you could say.

"I told you, you should've just lived with us. My mom loves you so much, God knows why. She probably loves you more than me," your boyfriend cringed at the thought as he restarted the car. "I mean you are living in scholarship, you can totally live with us."

"Do you want anything? We're gonna pass by a 24/7 store here, I'm gonna buy you some bandages for your bruises, then we're gonna go to the beach so you can rest." Suna repeatedly looked at you to see how you were doing.

You couldn't help but smile. You didn't know how lucky you were that Suna was here. Maybe he's all you needed. "Hmm.. I want M&Ms with peanuts, snickers, iced tea, and did I mention M&Ms with peanuts?" you pretended to be curious.

"Yes, you have. What a way to spend my money but you know what they say, "happy wife, happy life."" The brunette shrugged.

"Really? I'm your wife now?" You asked, giggling.

"Yes, you've always been my wife, just not officially yet, you know." He reached for your hand, intertwining them together.

You wanted to stay like this forever.

Ring... Ring... Ring...

"It's my dad..." you looked at Suna as he parked near the 24/7 store.

"Look, just ignore it. If your dad keeps calling before I come back, just tell him to cut that shit out, you're not going back there." He left the car and walked over to the store.

You did what he said, your dad had called at least 5 times before Suna could come back. "Is he still calling?" your boyfriend settled in the car.

"Yeah, Rin, maybe I should just answer it. Maybe he's gonna apologize, you know-" you tried to argue back

Ring... Ring... Ring...

"Maybe he's just checking up- Hey!" Suna suddenly took your phone and left the car "Rin! RIntaro, come back here! Ugh!" how dare he put you in child lock?!

After 10 minutes of pouting, your boyfriend finally went back into the car. He seemed proud of himself until he saw your face after he gave back the phone. "Oh, c'mon don't pout. I just told him to fuck off."

"Rintaro, I swear I'm gonna hit you." You pointed a finger at him.

"Okay, I just told him being an alcoholic isn't an excuse for being a bad dad. I just protected you, is that so bad?" Suna's eyebrows furrowed.

"I guess not..." You looked to the side.

"See? Now let me treat your bruises," His lips met yours, moving at a slow pace. "Mmh... then maybe we can have a little car sex, that's kinda one of my dreams-" After he pulled away you hit him on the shoulder, with a smile on your face.

"Oh, my- stop that!"

"Okay, I'm sorry! Now let's hurry so we can head to the beach." Your boyfriend said, pulling out the medicine.

"Thank you, Rin. I don't deserve you, I swear."

"You deserve the world, you should know that."

ᯓ★ I liked this, it's not that bad. Anyway, thank you for reading<3 | Masterlist

[silantryoo]

baek harin x reader

WARNINGS ; TRIGGER WARNING! heavy manipulation, love bombing, possessiveness, gaslighting, physical and emotional abuse, spoilers up to episode 8 of pyramid game

your thoughts ran wild.

harin probably already knew. somehow, she always figured out what you were thinking, as if you were an open book. she could tell your worries and your fears by glancing at you.

you did well. you knew that she would be proud of you, but still...

you shook your head. now wasn't the time to be nervous.

smoke wafted around the baekyeon heiress as you approached her, her eyes drifting in the distance. in her hand, a cigarette, laced with gold and stuffed with toxins that harin always seemed to indulge herself in.

her head tilted towards you, a dull sparkle in her eye.

"so?"

her voice was monotone, carrying out a sense of boredom that she only showed to a few others.

you watched her in all her beauty, the curls of the fog shaping the area around her. the heiress was stunning, and it always took you a couple seconds to reel yourself back to reality.

harin rolled her eyes as she approached you, tapping the side of her smoke as a warning.

instinctively, you straightened, your eyes wide as she smiled.

there was something so addictive about frightening you, something that was true genuine fear laced with an undying loyalty. you were impossible to replicate, a faithful dog waiting by her bedside.

you took a deep breath, inhaling the smoke through your nose. "i got ambushed by jaeun, suji, and them."

"i thought so." another puff of smoke exited her mouth. "did they mention anything?"

anything else?

you bit your tongue, your face ridden with guilt.

you were tired of the game, tired of getting hurt. as much as you yearned for harin's happiness, the exhaustion was getting to you. you just wanted one day to yourself, without eunbyeol and harin breathing down your back.

"no."

harin's eyes hardened, her gaze trained on you like a hawk. her pupils took in the sight; your quivering mouth, your avoidant stare...

she smiled.

"why don't i believe you?" harin clicked her tongue, pointing the end of her smoke near your cheek. "is it because you're lying to me?"

she knew. how did she know?

"no, i just..."

("join us.")

you never questioned why class 1-5 were in the middle of nowhere.

the building was nice, decorated with marble columns and sleek white paint. the washrooms were clean, close by, and rarely messy except for the occasional tissue lying on the ground.

it felt as if you were purposely isolated, the twenty-four other girls in your class being the only ones in reach.

sometimes, you even forgot other classes existed.

"harin's a fucking bitch."

you paused. kim dayeon?

a girl like her wouldn't be caught dead in the library. there was no reason for her to be here, much less talk shit about the heiress of the entire school.

you kept your mouth shut as your thoughts wandered to the girl in question.

baek harin.

pretty, intelligent, soft-spoken. from what you've seen, all those things were right. you were always too shy to approach her, your thoughts clouded by the beauty that she held. from what you heard from others, she was the embodiment of niceness, going out of her way to lend others money with nothing in return (yet).

why would dayeon even say these things about her?

"god, you think she's all high and mighty." dayeon muttered, her feet shuffling as she paced back and forth. "that psycho probably wants us to worship the ground she walks on."

psycho? baek harin wasn't a psycho.

"a hierarchy game?" dayeon could already see it in her head. she had no choice but to agree at that moment, wanting to spare herself from her father later that day, but when harin had mentioned it... "is she demented?"

"pyramid game, dayeon." seo doah. that made sense as to why dayeon was here. "if you're gonna insult it, at least name it properly."

"shut it."

"you might also wanna check if anyone else is in the library." your throat ran dry as doah stood up, staring at you across the room. "right, y/n?"

you shot up, your eyes wide as dayeon stared at you. there was something in her eyes that was unfamiliar.

fear? what was she scared of? surely, it wasn't harin.

"um..."

"fuck." your eyes widened at her words. never in your life would you have thought that the eccentric kim dayeon would swear like a sailor. "don't you dare say shit, you understand me?"

you shook your head, your body stiff. "i won't-"

"you don't know what the fuck is at risk here." dayeon's anger roared throughout the library, her fist shaking. dayeon wouldn't hit you... right? "open your mouth and i'll stitch it shut."

you nodded, trembling as you packed your things to leave.

"jeez, dayeon..." doah shook her head.

you stood up, your bag half open, and your textbooks barely inside. in your arms, you gathered everything that you could, arms shaking as you rushed out the room.

a spark of fear lighted up inside you when you saw daeyeon fingernails imbed themselves into the soft skin of her palm. the crescents swelled a bright red, and you knew that she wasn't joking.

she was gonna hurt you. was she gonna hurt harin as well?

you needed to get out of here, maybe even tell harin how insane and dangerous her friend seemed.

how was that even possible? how could someone like dayeon hold a rage inside themselves like that? you could understand it from that suck up, wooyi, but dayeon?

you stumbled slightly as you turned the corner, the books nearly falling out of your bag as you collided with someone. a strong, sculpted hand grabbed your elbow, electricity shooting up your arm.

that feeling...

"is something wrong?"

her breath smelt faintly of nicotine, her perfume - one you assumed cost at least a couple hundred dollars - blocking the scent enough to not register in your brain.

you bit your tongue. "no..."

"you can tell me, y/n-ah." your heart leaped at her words, a cloud of affection and care seemingly coating them. "i don't bite."

harin's smile seemed so soft and elegant, like the status she so desperately upheld. her eyes gleamed gently (and if you looked any closer, void of life) as her cheeks dusted in a costly blush.

don't snitch. you thought as her worried gaze peered into your soul. why should i protect dayeon?

you bit your tongue, your chest bursting with guilt at the thought of dayeon laying a finger on the heiress in front of you.

"dayeon..." you whisper as an eyebrow on her pretty face raised. "she, um, she might hurt you."

you waited for harin's face to shift into worry, into fear, into a normal reaction. you waited for her lips to part and ask 'why?', to ponder what your words truly meant.

instead, she laughed, as if the thought of dayeon hurting her was a part of some greco-roman comedy and not a tragedy.

harin let go of your arm, moving your hair out of your face as your eyebrows furrowed.

"so i'm guess you heard about my game as well?"

you nod. you had forgotten that those threats had stemmed from some game dayeon had mentioned.

a hierarchy game... a pyramid game.

"what do you think about it?" harin's eyes shone in a playful demeanor, full of curiosity and excitement. you couldn't fathom why or how she wasn't worried. "doesn't it sound fun?"

the air shifted around you as her irises seemed to blacken. a heavy burden settled on your chest as she face twitched into a smile, and you felt compelled - forced - to agree.

"it does," you chuckled awkwardly. "i guess."

a soft hum escaped her mouth, her eyes glancing at your face, taking in the fear that had shifted from dayeon to her. behind your eyes, she saw something... something exciting.

the heiress smiled.

"i hope you're in 'a' with me." you had no idea what she meant, but the thought of being near baek harin made the room spin. "it'll be lonely without you."

she stepped beside you, a gentle touch on your shoulder. her breath wafted close to your ear as she spoke with a stiff voice, one you wouldn't recognize as harin's.

"thanks for the heads up about dayeon." you shivered, a cool line shooting up your spine. "i'll deal with her."

she walked away as a deep pit in your stomach emerged.

deal with her?

you gripped your books tighter as you listened to the fading footsteps, and the soft "hello, can i speak to mr. kim? it's harin." in the distance.

you didn't know why, but somehow, you made the wrong decision.

you were never scared of blood.

it was a liquid that flowed inside you and every person's body, just like how water seeped from the sky and into the ground. blood was a natural process, nothing more and nothing less.

but when you saw that knife, drenched from your classmate's fresh wound...

you shivered at the thought, while harin's soft hands fiddled with a strand of your hair.

"do you feel bad for her?" harin's smile never disappeared, not since the game started. it didn't disappear when crimson dripped onto the floor, either. "woori?"

her lifeless eyes bore into yours, jolts of electricity and fire rising throughout your fingertips and cheeks. her hand, close enough to feel your breath, paused as the rest of harin's body stilled.

all of her stopped, as if so curious about your thoughts that each cell of hers had to still.

"you can be honest." her breath laced in nicotine once more, her perfume no longer covering the overwhelming scent. "i wanna know."

woori was an 'f'.

being an 'a' yourself, you had the right to torture her, to manipulate and ridicule her.

you never did, leaving it up to dayeon to do whatever she pleased with her. part of you still felt bad for what happened earlier in the year, and each time you blinked, you remembered the heavy-handed bruises left on dayeon's face the day after you had told harin about the library incident.

you understood woori, though. the mental toll it must've taken, being bullied throughout the day, months on end without another student looking your way. telling the teachers only resulted in a beating at best, and at worst...

your eyes clenched tightly as your brain replayed that video.

"a little..."

harin chuckled, pulling her hand away and fishing out a cigarette.

"you saw her cut jaeun up." harin muttered through her smoke, her delicate fingers wrapped around the golden band.

you remember the marble on the classroom floor stained red in a way that you didn't think it would.

blood wasn't scary. fear was.

"i did."

"and you still feel bad." harin inhaled, smoke leaving her nostrils as she looked you up and down. "interesting..."

as of late, harin had been smoking around you more and more often. whether it be behind the shed or simply just the two of you in the library, clouds of smoke seemed to follow her, and in turn, you.

the first time it had happened, you had coughed violently, taken off guard as the heiress smiled. your tears were exciting to her, much like your overwhelming sense of loyalty clashing with your morality.

she had never met anyone who was so inwardly conflicted.

"did she really drop out, harin-ah?"

harin blinked, standing up from her chair as she snubbed the end of her cig on some random book cover in front of her. she threw the smoke onto the floor, grinding it with her heel. her eyes were cold, and dark, and you knew that you had messed up again.

you didn't cough this time around. she had no reason to be mad.

the heiress gathered her belongings, sparing not a single glance your way.

"y/n?"

your heart skipped a beat.

"yeah?"

"my name's harin." she glanced at you, unamused. "don't call me that again."

seong suji.

the girl was nice, a little naive to the happenings of class 2-5. you could tell from a mile away that the girl wanted to stay low and let time pass its course, but you knew better than anyone that she had a target on her back.

everyone's attention had been on her from the moment whispers spread about a new girl transferring into the class. the moment she stepped into the room, you watched as harin's eyes lit up, and a fire blazed inside you.

you didn't know whether it was guilt or jealousy.

"are you stupid?" harin clenched her teeth as she hovered over you, her eyes hardening like coals under pressure. "telling the new girl about my game?"

suji didn't hear the predators hiding in the tall grass. she didn't see their eyes, nor did she notice their bloodlust-filled gazes, but she felt it, and there were only two people in her mind who seemed to lack the barbarity that lingered in the empty halls of the complex.

"look at me!"

your eyes snapped to harin's, anger exuding from her lips as puffs of smoke filled the air and ashes fell onto the ground.

you winced.

"harin..." you had never seen this side of her, not directed at you. you had always watched from the distance as opposed to being the target. "i just thought-"

"did you?" harin's lips curled in a way that could only be described as disbelief, your utter incompetence boggling her mind. "or are you just as stupid as your dropout brother?"

you winced, the low blow winding your self-esteem.

"she looked confused." you tried your best to reason with an iron wall. "i didn't want her to feel like-"

harin's eyes widened, and her usual curiosity morphed into an unfiltered rage.

"like who? woori? jaeun?" she exhaled another cloud, your face getting covered in smoke as you struggled to breath. "you're so fucking stupid."

you felt the heiress lean closer, the tip of the cigarette centimeters away from your cheek.

"i'm sorry."

"you're sorry?" harin could feel her blood boiling. everything was ruined. "i had a plan. you ruined it for me. you ruined my game, y/n."

you closed your eyes, trying to drown out the sharp words and the blanket of burden that harin enveloped you with.

you just wished harin would go back to being curious and playful, and leave you ignorant to the fact that deep down, she was the monster dayeon had implied many months ago.

with a weak voice, you tried to reason. "i didn't mean to..."

"you didn't-" harin backed away, ripping the smoke from her lips and into her fingertips. "give me your hand."

your eyes widened.

"harin-"

she grabbed your wrist with a surprising amount of strength. her nails dug into your arm, your teeth grinding together at the dull pain. the heat of the cigarette hovered over your palm as you struggled to pull back, and you couldn't help but choke out a strangled gasp.

"harin, wait-"

the smell of flesh burning invaded your senses as your arm shook from the pain. lightning seemed to replace your veins, as a fire replaced your blood. your vision fuzzed, the tears in your eyes falling down your chin.

harin glanced at you, a small smile replacing her grimace. you were always so pretty when you were in pain.

"remember this." she threw her smoke onto the ground, her grip on your wrist tightening. "you mess with my game, you upset me. you don't want that to happen again, do you?"

the last thing you wanted was to see harin frown in your direction.

"no."

harin smiled, glancing at how your lips quivered and how your eyes held an intoxicating mixture of fear and want. quietly, she wiped a tear with her free hand, chuckling as you flinched at her touch.

"then stay away from seong suji." she leaned in, her voice soft except for the threatening undertone. "if i see you even look at her without my permission, i'll make your life hell."

her grip loosened, harin's eyes softening as she looked at you with what seemed to be worry and understanding.

"i..." you blinked, agreeing like an obedient dog. even now, you couldn't help but wonder which harin was the real harin, but all you knew was that you didn't want to disappoint her. "i understand."

harin sighed, glancing at the burn in your hand with contempt. "i don't like doing this to you."

you paused, your face brightening as the smell of tobacco stuck to your blazer.

"you don't?"

harin smiled. it was like catching a mouse in a well placed trap. you were predictable and easy to please. a couple right words and you'd be under her spell all over again.

"you think i do?" the heiress frowned, biting her tongue.

she loved it.

"no..."

with a giggle, she took your wrist, much more gently than before.

"let's get you patched up."

harin liked putting on lipgloss around you.

she liked the way your eyes darted to her mouth for a split second before they looked anywhere else in the room. the redness of your cheeks delighted her in the sense that she knew that no matter what, you'd be stuck under her thumb.

you were her stupid, little puppet. your strings strong and unwavering, and your heart tainted with a loved one that you thought she didn't see.

it was adorable, like a puppy chasing its own tail, or a whale, no longer strong enough to go up for air.

harin liked to send you on mindless errands.

it was a good way to keep you in check, much better than instilling fear. she could sense that someone like you liked to feel needed, even if it's something as simple as fetching her more of her favorite brand of smokes or picking up items that she used for bribery.

it gave her a good laugh when you would come back, beaming as if you accomplished something when in reality, one of her maids could have easily done the same.

you were none the wiser, currently on your way to getting her more coffee (well, to get doah coffee per harin's demand).

you were just about to leave the campus, but a strong yet gentle hand yanked you aside, dragging you out of sight from the windows of the complex.

"sorry, y/n-ah."

you tried to shake her off, but she was too strong.

"jaeun, let go." why was she doing this? more importantly, why was she taking you to the nearby convenience store. "i can't be talking to you. you know that."

jaeun stopped, and you thought that she had finally gotten tired of you complaining so much. instead, you looked at the scene in front of you, two girls sitting in the shade of a foldable umbrella.

harin was gonna burn you alive.

"harin's pet?" jaehyeong shook her head, staring at the taller girl beside you. "jaeun-ie, are you sick? do you have a fever?"

you frowned. you weren't 'harin's pet'. so what if you liked being around her?

"she's nice." jaeun muttered, ushering you to the other girls. you tried to turn away, but she moved you in such a way that you couldn't escape. "she helped suji out."

"that was a mistake."

suji raised an eyebrow. she didn't know what was wrong with you. how could someone change so much in a matter of two months?

her eyes wandered your figure, stopping at the burns that littered your right hand.

oh. that makes sense.

"hey, y/n-ah."

"yerim?" you turned around, your jaw hanging open as the trainee sat with the girls, sipping on a can of coffee. you glanced at her phone, watching as she scrolled through eunjeong's instagram. "what the hell is going on?"

you looked around, their eyes glancing at suji with hesitation.

"you're not gonna convince her, suji." yerim shook her head.

being in rank 'a' herself, she knew firsthand how you followed every word harin said. she could tell from a mile away what it was, yerim herself victim to the feeling with a certain swimmer.

but there was a difference between the two of you, one that could prove to be detrimental.

you needed someone to follow, while she didn't.

"i can." suji glanced at your hand again. "i know i can."

"convince me?"

you felt a lump in your throat, praying that somehow, in some way, harin would come barging in and save you from whatever was going on here.

you took a deep breath, and sensing danger was near, gripped your wrist for safety.

jaeun frowned.

"i was serious about bringing down the game, y/n."

the pyramid game.

that stupid game that harin focused all her energy into, hellbent on keeping the perfect hierarchy intact. the one where you watched your classmates get beaten to a pulp, bloody and broken to the point of mental disarray.

you had never spoken it out loud, but you were tired of it, watching everyone you know either do the hurting or get hurt (most times both).

but this was harin's game, and you'd rather hurt yourself than upset the girl you loved.

"harin'll be pissed."

yerim chuckled, a knowing smile on her face. she didn't expect anything less from you.

"aren't you?" suji glanced at your hand, one you held for dear life, as if you were afraid it would get burned again. "after everything you've done for her, she still burns you."

you frowned.

harin did it with good reason. she needed to keep you in line, to keep you from lashing out. she did this to you because, unlike wooyi or dayeon, she trusted you enough to understand.

harin did it out of the pureness of her heart.

"that was an accident."

"an accident?" suji could feel your doubt starting to seep through. that was enough for her, to see the light beyond the cracks of your love. "hurting you multiple times the same way was an accident?"

was it an accident? it had to be, otherwise, harin was just hurting you to hurt you.

you shook the thought out of your head, missing the way the girls looked at each other, satisfied.

"what do you want, seong suji?"

there was a beat in the air.

"join us."

she knew. how did she know?

"no, i just..."

you liked harin, even when she suffocated you with her smoke, staining your white shirt with the ash of her cigarettes. her eyes wandered yours routinely, and it felt as if she was trying to dig deep as if she needed you.

"i figured out a way to get to them."

harin's eyes sparkled. she would have never thought that you, docile and timid, would ever think of something other than her and school.

it was... exhilarating.

"sim eunjeong." you rattled out a breath, your eyes clenching at the very thought of what you were doing. "yerim... likes her more than we think."

the heiress laughed, the excitement in her chest bursting at the thought of you ignoring your morals just to please her and only her.

she leaned close to you, her face in front of yours as she moved a single lock of hair behind your ear. shivers ran up your spine.

"do you feel bad, y/n-ah?" harin hadn't felt this happy in a while. "ratting them out to me must be so heavy on your consciousness."

she looked you up and down, your eyes avoiding hers. your cheeks were tinged in red, and the guilt written all over your face didn't help the giddiness that was starting to overtake her.

"you're fun, y/n."

you'd do anything for her, even when she hurt you. even when everyone screamed and yelled at you to leave, ignoring the bright red stop signs.

"i like you."

> main masterlist.

[coff33andb00ks]

Rule Breaker - Pt 7

pairing:max Verstappen x single mom!reader x logan sargeant {masterlist}{prev} {next} warnings: cursing, minimally proofread Summary: you can start a family who will always show you love, you don't have to be sorry for doing it on your own word count: 4.7k auth.note: this was supposed to have smut in it but the smut gods have abandoned me spotify: i made a playlist

He was watching her.

She swallowed anxiously as she poured water from the kettle into the mugs. Of course he was watching her. He hadn't taken his eyes off her since she'd opened the apartment door. And of course she was making tea, because it was too late for coffee, and she also knew he hated coffee.

You're just a coworker.

Except he wasn't. He never had been, not since taking it upon himself to show her son cars at the factory. Not since he'd listened to her like no one had before. Not since…

He'd so seamlessly stepped into her and Kevin's lives, helping without being asked, and asking nothing in return.

Licking her lips as she watched the tea steep, she closed her eyes.

She could still taste him.

Gentle, tender, everything he never showed the world. As though she was precious and perfect. As though her lips were his place of worship. Her lips parted to gasp, surprised, and—

He shifted and her eyes snapped open. He was still there. In her kitchen, leaning against the counter just a few feet away. Her heart hammered in her chest as she picked up a mug after stirring in a little sugar and held it out to him.

"Y/n," he whispered.

"I'm not allowed to kiss you."

He'd said that weeks ago. Over a month ago. She sucked in a breath and finally turned to face him. "What changed?"

To his credit, he didn't play stupid. He took a sip of the tea and turned the mug in his hands. "Nothing changed."

"How can you say that?" Gripping her mug, she forced herself to take a sip.

"I'm sor—" Max cut himself off and pressed his lips together. "No, I'm not sorry. I've wanted to do that since… Since I met you."

Y/n took another sip of her tea. It wasn't sweet enough, but she couldn't bring herself to move to get some sugar. All she could do was stand there, holding her mug tightly and sip, staring at him, floored by the revelation that he'd wanted to kiss her for months. "You said you couldn't," she whispered.

"I still can't." His voice was strained, as though it hurt him to say it.

"Jesus christ," she groaned. "Max—"

"You're with Logan."

She froze, slowly raising her eyes to his. "Yeah," she whispered. "We're… Figuring it out as we go."

He winced slightly. "What's there to figure out?"

"God, Max." Why did he care? "Everything."

"Little mate worships him."

She shouldn’t say it. Don't say it don't say it don't say it don't— "He worships you, too."

Max shook his head. "He—"

"He called you Daddy. He's never even…" She reached up, angrily brushing the tears from her eyes before they could fall. "He's never cared about not having a father until recently. He asked months ago why he doesn't have one and I told him not everyone does and he was okay with that. Until…"

He stepped closer, taking her mug and setting it with his on the counter.

"I've fucked it all up," she gasped. "I've done the worst thing haven't I?"

"Y/n, no," he murmured.

"I'm supposed to protect him from heartache and pain. But I let him get close to you and you…" She couldn't finish the thought, much less the sentence. If there was one thing she was sure of in her messed up world it was that Max would never hurt Kevin. She wasn't stupid, she had put together the pieces and figured out that he'd been abused as a child, whether he saw it that way or not. But he had only ever treated her son with gentleness.

"I won't hurt him," Max whispered, and she sensed rather than saw the tremble in his fingers as he brushed her tears away. "I could never…"

"I know," she breathed.

"Don't…" His fingers lingered on her cheek, and the look in his eyes was almost desperate. "Don't lock me out, y/n."

"Have you met my son?" She sniffled. "He'd tear the door down for you."

He smiled sadly. "Would you let him?"

"Yeah," she said after a moment.

"You haven't fucked it all up," he murmured.

"I feel like I have." His fingers were still on her cheeks, even though for now there weren't any tears. But she didn't mind. They were warm and tender, almost lovingly caressing her. And she wondered what it said about her that in this moment she didn't care about anything or anyone else.

"Mama?"

Max's fingers stilled on her cheeks at the sound of Kevin's voice. Before either of them could move she heard the patter of Kevin's feet entering the kitchen.

"Mama, I—" Kevin gasped. "Mister Max?"

He pulled back and turned. "Hey, kleine maat… You alright?"

Kevin rubbed his eyes as he shuffled over. "Had a bad dream," he mumbled.

Y/n was half a second too late to scoop him up, and she looked on as Max lifted him up. Reaching over, she smoothed her son's curls. "You wanna talk about it, doodle bug?"

Kevin shook his head, settling comfortably against Max's shoulder. "'M'okay, mama," he promised.

Max shared a look with her over the top of Kevin's head. She could practically read his thoughts – he's alright – and nodded. He rubbed the boy's back in a soothing manner and she let herself enjoy the quiet warmth of the moment. Standing close as Max held her son, she listened to him gently murmur comforting words while she continued to smooth his hair, smiling fondly as she felt Kevin relax.

She felt a flicker of hesitation when Max offered to tuck him in, but didn't object. Leading him to the bedroom she shared with Kevin, she opened the bathroom door when he murmured he had to go, leaning in the doorway while Max set him down by the toilet.

No wonder Kevin looked to him as a father figure. He was so natural at it, so patient and kind.

Everything a father should be.

He carried him into the bedroom, squatting down next to the toddler bed to settle him and tuck him in. "Welterusten, kleine maat," he whispered.

Kevin blinked at him. "Is that goodnight?"

Max nodded. "Welterusten."

Y/n picked up her son's stuffed Snoopy and leaned to place it next to him while he practiced saying the word.

"Welterusten, Daddy. Goodnight, Mama," Kevin murmured, eyes already closing. "Love you."

"Goodnight, sweetie. Love you," she whispered, blinking back tears.

Max seemed frozen for a few seconds, but he finally straightened, dragging a hand over his face as he left the bedroom. She followed him out a moment later, pulling the door almost completely closed behind her. Pausing outside Ellie's door, she continued through the apartment to the kitchen when she heard no sign of her friend being awake.

He was leaning against the counter, his expression troubled.

"Max," she whispered.

"Where's his dad?"

Surprised by the question, she paused, rubbing her hands over her thighs before stepping over to pick up her tea. "I don't know."

"Does…" Max exhaled harshly. "Tell me it's none of my business."

How could she tell him that? "It's not, but… If Kevin's tearing the door down for you, you should know, I suppose."

"Does his dad know about him?"

"Only that he exists." She couldn't have this conversation standing. Motioning for him to follow her, she headed into the living room, sitting in the corner of the couch after he pushed away from the counter. "He wanted nothing to do with a baby."

Max made a face of discontent but said nothing as he sat next to her.

Holding her tea with both hands, she pulled her knees to her chest. "He wanted me to have an abortion. And I was going to… I was still on the outs with my mom, working two jobs to pay my bills, I couldn't afford a baby. But – and this is gonna sound so crazy and stupid."

"Tell me," he murmured.

Y/n sighed. "I had a dream about a baby and it—" her breath hitched. "—it felt so real and in the dream I felt whole, like some missing part of my soul had found its way back to me. I woke up craving that feeling, and well, I decided against the abortion."

Max was silent for a few seconds. When he spoke, she could see him fighting a smile. "You're right, that does sound crazy and stupid."

Groaning, she lowered her head. "I know. I know. But—"

"Making life decisions because of a dream is—"

"I know, Max, god you sound like my mom."

He paused, his smile fading. "I'm sorry. Go on."

"That was it. I chose to have the baby. Josh refused to have anything to do with me or him. I haven't seen him since I told him I wasn't having an abortion." She refused to go into how much that had hurt. How stupid she'd felt as the pregnancy progressed, things still strained with her mom, only Ellie to lean on for emotional support.

"He doesn't support him?"

"I refuse to ask him for anything. Kevin's better off without him in his life. Ellie's been more of a father than he ever could have." She finished her tea and set the mug aside. "He knows that he exists. I sent word through his sister, and I've had no contact with anyone in his family since. It's like they don't care. It hurt at first, but now I know it's better this way."

"I'm sorry, y/n."

She shook her head and tucked her chin on her knees. "You don't have anything to be sorry for."

He sighed. And she felt him relax for the first time since he'd set foot in the apartment. The quiet stretched until it was almost uncomfortable, then he exhaled softly and reached for her hand.

"I don't mind him calling you daddy," she whispered as their fingers weaved together. It wasn't a conscious movement, and she felt as though her fingers already knew how to slot around his. Just as they did whenever her hand found Logan's.

Logan. God. How could she feel the same but different for two men?

"Are you sure?"

She nodded. "Maybe it's just a phase. Maybe he has some anxiety because all his new friends have dads."

"He…" Max cleared his throat and when she glanced at him she saw him staring at their hands. "He asked me in Montreal. Mentioned Laura."

Y/n smiled. First Kevin had been over the moon that a driver shared a name with him, then had fallen sort of in love with the older Kevin's daughter.

"He said you told him not everyone gets a mum and a dad. That he loves you."

She swallowed hard, nodding. If ever she was unsure of everything else in her life, she would always know her son loved her.

"Then he said—" Max sighed. "He asked if I thought Logan would be his dad. And you like mama."

She jerked her head up. "Did he ask you—"

"No. But I think he was going to."

What would you have said, how would you have answered him. And would you, Max? Would you be his dad? Would Logan? She closed her eyes, fighting the wave of questions she longed to ask, her feminist rage rising. He doesn't need a dad, damn it. He's perfectly fine without one. He's well rounded, intelligent, and empathetic. Having a 'dad' would ruin him—

"Y/n."

For fuck's sake. "Nothing changed," she reminded him. "You still can't."

"Doesn't mean I don't want to."

"I'm dating Logan."

"Is it serious?"

Yes. No. She didn't know. Logan didn't talk about that sort of thing. Still figuring it out. Still learning to show he cared. "Max, don't make me do this."

He squeezed her hand. "I'm not asking you to make a choice. I… We couldn't be open like you and Logan are."

It wasn't as though she and Logan were public. She was sure they'd been spotted together but it wasn't as though they were in each other's social media posts. "Because you'd get into trouble."

Groaning, he tossed his head back and stared at the ceiling. "You would lose your job."

Not him, though. Because he was the world champ. The dominant force to be reckoned with. Everyone on the Red Bull team would be fired before they let Max go. The realization annoyed her, even though she understood the reasoning. In the grand scheme of things she was nothing, a minor cog in the workings that could easily be replaced. But really what annoyed her the most was—

"I can't be the reason you lose your job, y/n."

Goddamn him and his nobleness. "Then… What are we even doing?" she sighed, moving to stand, trying to slip her hand free of his. But he held fast, pulling her back down.

"This," he whispered, raising his other hand to her cheek.

"But we—"

"Tell me no," he breathed as he dipped his head.

Her breath stuttered and she moved her hand to his neck, felt the muscles tense beneath her fingers. "Max…"

"I'll go. Just… Tell me you don't want this."

His forehead was against hers and his hand was sliding into her hair and she couldn't have told him no. Tilting her head, she let her lips brush over his, whining softly at the sensation. "I shouldn't," she whispered. And, god help her… "But I do."

He exhaled into the kiss, letting go of her hand and wrapping his arm around her. So gentle, so tender, she almost cried.

The last rational part of her brain screamed what about Logan and she pulled back slightly, eyes widening in panic. "We shouldn't."

He nodded. "I know," he murmured, pulling away.

"I want to," she blurted. "But…"

"Logan," he said flatly. "I thought you were figuring it out."

She ran a hand over her face, trying to ignore the tingling in her lips and the longing to slide back into his arms. "Would you want me to see him if I was figuring it out with you?"

He met her gaze and seemed to search her eyes for a long moment. "I would want you to do whatever it took to find happiness."

And she could tell that he meant it. She wished this was the Max that the world saw. The understanding, gentle Max that he rarely showed publicly. "Even if it was without you?"

His jaw twitched and he slowly drew in a breath. "Yes."

"I like him, Max. And I like you too."

Apparently, meeting on the track was now their thing. Max found he didn't mind so much this time, and decided he didn't want to investigate why. It wasn't as though he disliked Logan – in fact he liked him quite a bit. He just had let his own jealousy cloud his behavior. And now… Well, now things were different.

Logan fell into step with him and they chatted about the weather and y/n and Kevin and the burn was still there, eased a little by memories of silky lips and soft murmurs.

"How's your car looking?" Max asked, changing the subject as they walked along the track.

"I don't know, honestly. Do you ever just…" Logan sighed and shook his head, shoulders rounding. "Nevermind."

God. Max opened his mouth to tell him to go on, ask whatever it was that was on his mind – just get fucking on with it – but decided against it. Not everyone said what was on their mind. Not even him, some days, depending what was on his mind. He'd learned to bottle a lot of things, even if people thought he had no filter.

"I like him, Max. And I like you too."

How can you like us both?

He knew how. He just didn't know why. Why did she like him? He was the opposite of her precious American.

Logan cared. About everything. He cared too much. What people thought, whether he was doing well, how he carried himself. He was gentle and – damn it, caring – towards everyone, from a little boy with no father to people who didn't deserve a second thought.

Whereas he was… Gruff. An asshole on a bad day, a jerk on others. He did care, but he was selective. And he had learned at a young age that being gentle, being caring, led to being hurt and disappointment.

Gonna cry, boy?

"You have to stand up for yourself." The words came out of his mouth and hung in the air, too cold and brisk for the man walking next to him. "Sorry."

Logan drew in a breath. "Max—"

"Actually, no I'm not sorry." How many times had he said that in the past week? Twice. Which was twice too many. "It's true. You can't let them walk all over you. Because they'll do it until they find another pushover."

"They're not renewing my contract."

Well, fuck.

"They haven't said it. James is giving me the runaround every time I bring it up." Logan kept his eyes straight ahead and so did Max, not sure he wanted to see whatever emotions were showing. "But I know it's coming."

"He's such a spineless cunt," Max muttered.

Logan sputtered on a laugh. "Jesus," he chuckled nervously.

"He is." Max glanced at him. Swallowed down the little bit of bitterness. "You deserve a team that believes in you."

He nodded. "I know. But I don't have that."

"Don't give up hope," he said, the words surprising even him. "There are teams with vacant seats next year."

"I'm American. Hope's all I got," Logan said without enthusiasm.

Max chuckled softly. "Sometimes it's all you need."

As if he would know.

"I appreciate it, Max. Really."

"I can't give advice." He grimaced. "I suck at it. But I'm here if you need someone to talk to."

Even though he wasn't looking at him, he saw Logan's smile. "Thanks, mate."

Mate.

For once it didn't sound weird when Logan said it.

A win in Barcelona and, somehow, y/n found herself in the VIP section of a club with several drivers and a few girlfriends. No one seemed surprised or upset by her being there, and she laughed and drank a little, enjoying the downtime. Logan pulled her into a dance and she felt…

Happy.

Taking a break, she got another drink and found herself next to Max while he talked to Charles about someone she didn't know. A few moments later Charles was dragged away by his girlfriend and she was, relatively, alone with Max.

Max leaned close, speaking directly into her ear, loud enough to be heard above the music. "I can see why you like him!"

Her brow furrowed at his words. "You can?"

He nodded, leaning back to take a swig from his drink. "He's nice. Looks at you like you put the stars in the sky."

"Max," she murmured in surprise, her expression softening. She looked past him to where Logan was laughing with Lando and Oscar.

"See." Max chuckled next to her as Logan turned to look at her. "If he looked at me like that, I'd fall too."

A surprised laugh bubbled up. "Max! Are you drunk?"

He shook his head. "Not even close."

The coloured lights flashing around them pulsed faster and she watched him finish his drink. "Max–"

"He's in love with you." Max's face was serious.

She nodded, because suddenly she couldn't speak. If she did, she might tell him things she should never say. Nodding again, she looked down at her drink. Logan had all but said I love you to her. He'd said he loved being with her, loved hearing her voice, loved spending time with Kevin, but hadn't said he loved her.

"We have that in common," Max said, and she barely caught the words, his voice was so low.

Jerking her head up, she blinked. "What–"

"Hey babe."

A long arm snaked around her and she was pulled back against Logan's chest. Confused to see Max grinning, she wondered if he was drunk, because he usually looked annoyed whenever Logan was around. Well, not as much this past week as he had before, but…

Logan bent down, lips brushing her ear. "Having fun?"

She nodded, unconsciously stroking the arm around her as she sipped her drink. "It's a little noisy," she said loudly. "But fun."

He squeezed his arm around her. "Let me know when you're ready to go?"

She patted his arm and nodded again, smiling as he slipped away to go talk to Oscar.

Max tipped his head thoughtfully. "You're shit at lying."

"No I'm not?" She frowned at that. "I'm not lying."

"You're having fun?" he asked, arching his eyebrow.

She delayed answering by taking a sip of his drink.

He laughed, rolling his eyes. "You'd rather be at the hotel, wouldn't you?"

She made a face. "Yes. But—"

He grabbed her hand and tugged her along behind him, stopping to speak to Logan. They were right under a speaker so she couldn't hear what he said, but she saw Logan's concern as he nodded. Confused when he leaned to press a kiss to her cheek, she opened her mouth to say she was fine, but no one seemed to hear her above the thudding music. Logan didn't seem bothered by Max holding her hand and she remembered that she'd talked to him about it, that he was weirdly okay with her exploring her options as he'd put it—

Logan's lips moved to her ear. "I'll see you later, babe."

"Max what are you doing?" she asked a few moments later when he guided her out a side door of the club. Despite the heat outside it felt cooler than the club and she breathed in a lungful of fresh air.

"Taking you to the hotel," he answered simply.

She blinked as a car turned down the side street – alley? she wasn't sure what to call it – and stopped in front of them. Turning to him, she pinched her brows together. "You're supposed to be celebrating your win."

Max shrugged. "I can celebrate anytime."

With that, he opened the back door of the car and motioned for her to climb in. And she couldn't argue. Well, she could but it would be pointless. Arguing with Max was much like arguing with Kevin. It would lead nowhere except to a headache, she was sure. Settling in the backseat, she opened her handbag to get her phone, checking to make sure Ellie hadn't messaged her with an emergency.

"Je bent mooi," Max murmured once the car was in motion.

She could barely see him but she looked at him anyway, watching the passing lights flicker across his face. "Thank you," she whispered, remembering what the words meant.

You're beautiful. Not you look beautiful, that dress looks great on you. You're beautiful. She wondered if he understood the difference and thought that he might when his hand found hers.

It had been just over a week and it was still so new, so unexpected, the secret looks and touches. The stolen kiss that morning, the quick hug in the post-race confusion. All weekend she'd kept waiting for someone to notice, to say something, but no one had.

"When's your birthday?" she asked suddenly.

"End of September… Why?"

His thumb was tracing the back of her hand, making it hard to concentrate on her thoughts. "That's… Right after Singapore right?"

Max hummed. "Yeah I think a week after?"

"Well what are you doing to celebrate?" she asked, shifting so she was facing towards him.

He chuckled, and in the flickering lights she saw him shaking his head. "I don't celebrate birthdays."

"Max…"

"Y/n…" he mocked.

"You have to celebrate," she sighed.

"Uh, no, I don't have to."

"Didn't you love birthday parties as a kid?" she asked as the car stopped. Glancing out, she realized they were parked behind the hotel. She kept forgetting that Max could do things like that.

He thanked the driver and climbed out, turning back to help her out. "I didn't celebrate them much as a kid," he finally said.

"Oh," she said softly.

Max groaned, guiding her through the door, nodding to the hotel security. "Don't."

"I didn't—"

"You're not throwing me a birthday party," he insisted with a shudder.

"But—"

"It's just another day."

She scrunched up her face as he guided her onto the elevator. "If you'd let me speak—"

"No, because if I do it'll end with me wearing a stupid pointy hat and you blowing confetti in my face," he muttered.

Y/n huffed. "I wouldn't blow confetti."

He turned to look at her.

"I wouldn't!" she insisted. "I'd blow noisemakers—"

"No."

"You really don't want to celebrate? Cake? Friends? A few presents?"

"I don't like cake, if I want to see friends I do, and if I want anything I buy it." He tipped his head. "I don't need a party for any of that."

"It doesn't have to be a party," she persisted as the elevator stopped.

"I appreciate what you're trying to do," he said, glancing left and right before steering her towards her room. "But I don't see any reasons to celebrate."

"It's a special day, Max."

"You're not going to let this go are you?" he sighed as they stopped at her door.

She shook her head, opening her handbag to get her keycard. "Nope."

Max rolled his eyes and took the card, unlocking the door for her and following her inside. "Why is it so important to you?"

Slipping off her heels, she pushed them next to her suitcase. "It's a time to celebrate… To reflect and appreciate what you've been given."

Leaning against the dresser, he set the keycard down and folded his arms. "You don't think they're childish and unimportant?"

She looked up from gathering her pajamas to change into. Frowning, she shook her head. "That's your father speaking, isn't it?"

His eyes shuttered and his stance grew tense. "I'm not…"

"Is he why you didn't celebrate?" she whispered.

"My mom tried," he said after a moment of tense silence. "She'd make a cake or get me a little something. But…"

He pushed away from the dresser and walked across the room. She sat back on her heels, watching him pace before he stopped at the window. Heart breaking for the little boy inside him, she pushed to her feet and walked over, tentatively sliding her hand over his.

"We didn't celebrate. Even when I won." His voice was hoarse, as though it hurt him to say the words.

"Oh, Max," she sighed. She hesitated, still not used to this sort of closeness, and finally leaned her head against his arm.

He let out a shuddering sigh and she realized he wasn't used to it, either. Slipping his hand free, he wrapped his arm around her slowly and cautiously, as though afraid she was going to push him away.

"Can I throw you a small party?" she asked after a moment. "With just a few people who care about you?"

Groaning, he pressed his lips into her hair. "If you must."

"Who would you want to invite?"

He snorted. "You and Kevin." Tucking his chin on the top of her head, he wrapped his other arm around her. "You can invite Logan, too."

Surprised, she leaned back, heart skipping several beats. "Logan?"

"He's special to you and Kevin. You and Kevin are special to me." He paused, eyes meeting hers. "So he's special to me too, I guess."

"Max," she whispered. "You mean that?"

"Don't say it like that, don't make it—"

She leaned up, silencing him with a kiss. Don't make it weird. But it already was.

And she kind of loved it.

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[wutheringcaterpillar]

Hi! I was wondering if you would be willing to write where Tommy finds out he has a step-daughter from Lizzie’s confession (her daughter was born long before Lizzie became a prostitute and hid her pregnancy), but her biological father has full custody. He is curious about his step-daughter, sets out to find her, and ends up wanting her for himself.

Warnings: stepcest, dubcon, smut, creampie, age gap (reader 18, Tommy in his forties), daddy kink, tommy being a shit husband🤣, some choking

thank you for the request, hope you enjoy!

“Tommy I just don’t know about this. Why is he here?! He’s a dangerous man and I hadn’t planned on seeing him ever again! The egotistic, sharp tongue bastard..” Tommy had never seen Lizzie in such a frantic state. She was pacing the kitchen biting her nails, her brain scattered with memories from her past lover back in high school. He was now a powerful banker who laundered money, and abused his position by making the rich, richer, never fighting for his people but against them.

Something seemed off, his wife was always well composed even when something bothered her, and this he could tell was bothering her. She’d never admit it but she was scared of him, he knew something about her Tommy didn’t and she was concerned her husband would look at her differently.

Downing a glass filled to the brim of red wine, she pulled out a cigarette while Tommy sat in a chair, thumbs rubbing together while his eyesbrows furrowed together.

“What does he have over you eh? It must be something for you to be drinking at nine in the fucking morning with Ruby here.” She scoffed, blowing smoke into the atmosphere. She had to tell him, what choice did she have? He was meeting with Hector tonight for business, and she loathed it immensely. When she wasn’t sitting down, Tommy stood up stopping her in her tracks, giving her no option but to look into his piercing blue eyes. He could tell she was on the brink of tears but was holding her heavy emotions back, or trying to at least.

“Take a breath and talk to me. I can’t help you if you’re hiding something.” His eyes searched her worried expression for an answer, hands settled gently on her arms.

Contemplating her decision, she caved.

“I have a daughter Tommy. A fucking daughter can you believe that? I knew Hector back in school, we were lovers and he lead me to believe he’d always be there. That was until I became pregnant with Y/N. I was overjoyed at first but when her first birthday arrived I was having a bad night and-“ She stopped for a moment, sniffling and wiping at her nose. Tommy nodded reassuringly that it was alright for her to continue.

“And I fucking came home drunk and found him fucking another girl. I lost my shit as any woman would, and-and I stupidly pulled out a gun and fired, I nearly killed my own fucking daughter. She walked into the room behind me and the door startled me, I missed her by hardly a centimeter. He then filed for custody, had his whore of a mistress as a witness and I fucking lost. He left me without money, without visitation rights, I was homeless and desperate for money. I haven’t seen her since…She should be 18 now, a full grown adult can you believe that?” Tommy wiped away one of her tears caringly, no judgement present in his sapphire eyes. 

“We all have bad days eh? Why didn’t you just tell me?” She fell to the chair, weeping hysterically. She thought to herself, ‘God woman pull yourself together this was almost two decades ago’. Tommy still stayed unphazed, an idea etching his brain.

His thumbs caressed her shaking hands, taking a seat and watching his wife fall apart the worst he’s seen her. He was Tommy fucking Shelby, surely he could find Y/N for her.

“Love, look at me. I could find her eh?” Her breathing seemed to steady as she patted her heated cheeks with a tissue.

“You would do that for me?” Tommy shrugged like the proposal was nothing. Surely it couldn’t be that difficult after all the other fuckers he’s had to deal with and figure out their patterns.

Within a week Tommy had your location but hadn’t told Lizzy just in case you weren’t willing to come. After traveling for three hours, here he was in his black suit standing at the doorstep of a brick apartment building just outside of the city. 

Cars aligned the sides of the road yet no one was really outside. Clearing his throat, he knocked at the door.

“Coming! Hold on!” He raised his eyebrows, your voice still sounded young for a eighteen year old girl. Surely daddy’s money paid for you to be able to afford a place of your own but hell what did he know. Yeah he did his research before coming but Hector did well as a father and keeping your profile low considering his business dealings, but not low enough for Thomas Shelby.

When you opened the door in nothing but your silk pjs, chewing on a piece of candy, the chilly wind blew your hair wild while your eyebrows furrowed together in confusion.

Surely this couldn’t be Lizzie’s daughter? She was too damn attractive.

“Do I know you?” Your arms crossed from the cold air. The tall, mysterious man was dressed more formal than most people you knew aside from your father. He had a chiseled jawline, piercing blue eyes, and smelt of cigarettes with a hint of cologne that wasn’t too powerful.

“Do you always answer the door in your pajamas? You never know who might be on the other side. Can I come in? I’m a friend of your father’s.” Shrugging, you walked back inside leaving the door open for him. Silly girl, clearly your father has never taught you to never trust strangers. Tommy couldn’t help but stare at the way your ass jiggled with each movement in the snug blue fabric. Lapping his tongue over his lip, he checked his surrounding before following you in and closing the door behind him.

“Tea?” Tommy waved you off, politely declining before taking a seat in the kitchen while lighting a cigarette, spreading the tip over his lip before lighting the flame.

God you were a cute, devilish little thing. He could tell with each delicate step on the newly put in floor you were going to be trouble. Such smoothe, youthful skin. Especially the way you strutted around him, breasts bouncing with each joyful movement.

He was more than interested to see where this might go but business was needed to be had first. When you took a seat beside him, his eyes diverted from your body up to your innocent, enticing eyes. God even the way you batted your eyelashes was making him shift his growing shaft in his seat beneath the table.

“I’m Thomas Shelby from Birmingham. I’m here because your mother just recently told me about you.” You stopped chewing, wiping away the milk that was now dripping from your chin. The white substance sending filthy ideas to Tommy’s mind. Shit he had to focus.

“My mother? Who are you her husband?” When he didn’t respond, merely raising his eyebrows and making a clicking sound with his tongue gave you the answer you were in search for.

It was fascinating to him how suddenly the subject of Lizzie seemed to silence you. Your lips turned upside down into a frown as you cleared your throat looking toward the window instead of at Tommy’s frigid, introspective stare.

Offering you a smoke, you declined, arms wrapping around yourself as you changed the subject, wanting to avoid the anxiety this situation caused you.

“Mr. Shelby, if this was the only reason you came out here I hate to be the bearer of bad news but I just can not face her. Not after she abandoned me. If she loved me she would have put in an effort long ago. Is there anything else I can help you with?” With your avoidance of the topic, you stood up but could still feel his eyes on you as you discarded the dirty dish into the sink.

Replenishing his cigarette, he sat with his hands folded when you returned to the room, his posture straight with determined, curious eyes. Unsettling you slightly yet you were unable to look away.

“This is going nowhere so I’m just going to get to the point. Do you want to fuck Y/N?” His bluntness left you speechless, eyes growing wide. Yes he was very attractive, the palpable tensions growing stronger when he stood up from his seat and began inching toward you, circling and stopping at your backside. His bulge now pressing firmly against your ass.

His fingers touched your thigh, grazing over the sensitive skin lightly while his lips rested behind your ear. “Have you ever had a man satisfy you love?” His fingers inched further up into your pathetic excuse of shorts, hand resting on your heated mound, your wetness having stained through your panties. He caressed the eager area gently leaving you stood frozen in your tracks. Gulping back the nervous thoughts, you shook your head no. He circled over your sex, massaging the untouched skin while he placed a soft, chaste kiss beneath your ear.

“Your mum and dad wouldn’t have to know. You seem like a smart girl, surely you could keep a secret eh?” His free hand tucking itself underneath your shirt, grazinf over your naval. As he ascended up, shivers of anticipation riddled your spine, an aching sensation, a dire need washing over you when he grasped your breast, fondling the cushiony skin greedily, fingers twisting and pulling at your hardened nipple lightly.

“One thing I’ve learned is resisting temptation only escalates our most desirable wants and I know a young girl like you, you’ve had to hold back for so long haven’t you love?” His fingers dipped in between your heated folds making your eyes fluttered closed, head falling back onto his broad shoulder involuntarily.

Tommy couldn’t help but smirk to himself, having euch a young, pretty girl that was supposed to be forbidden so easily desperate at the slightest touch of his fingertips.

When he pulled out his digits, you breathlessly whined from the sudden emptiness unexpectedly. He had you right where he wanted you.

“All you have to do is say yes Y/N..” Fuck you knew this was wrong, but his alluring scent and seductive yet intimidating blue eyes only increased the moistening of your cunt.

He could feel your heartbeat thud eratically, the trim of your waist wriggling from anticipation against his hardened member, all the young, intense thoughts he could imagine driving through your mind.

In the heat of the moment you turned around in his arms gracefully, hair flowing innocently, the strawberry scent being the last thing Tommy inhaled before your plush, delicate lips clashed against his. 

His large hands held your cheeks softly, deepening the kiss with each passing second, tongue delving in and intertwining with yours. He tasted of cigarettes and mint, like a man should of his demeanor.

Effortlessly, he swoopped you up beneath your thighs, skin slapping against the wooden table when he set you down.

His hands grazed the delicate curves of your body, grasping at any and every part of you while the strap of your shirt descended from your shoulder, Tommy’s lips instantly connecting to the warmth of your neck. Leaving hickies on your neck, wanting people to know you had been taken.

Your hands fumbled with his leather belt, making him smirk in between the pursing of his lips.

“Eager are we love? Knew that innocent act was merely a facade.” 

Peeling off your shirt, he ripped off your thin excuse of bottoms, revealing your dripping cunt, slick leaking our of your untouched rose onto the surface. Tommy felt his cock pulsate when it was released, slapping against his abdomen. 

Your teeth bit down on the skin of your bottom lip, lashes batting desperately for him.

“Is my step daddy going to fuck me nice and hard?” Tommy scoffed before positioning himself between your thighs, his cock plummeting into your explosive heat, walls already feeling as if they were squeezing his shaft from how exceptionally tight you were.

“Ah, fuck…” The pain was present but the feeling of being so stuffed, an empty void filled from his large member was overwhelmingly pleasurable. The sight of you so breathless with your eyebrows furrowed initiated Tommy to have little to no regard for patience, needing to take you right here and right now.

When he pulled out he pounded right into you, causing your hands to almost lost their balance on the table, boobs bouncing with each powerful thrust. 

“How’s that for nice and hard sweetheart?” Before you had a chance to respond, his nauls dug into the smoothe skin of your hips while he rutted into you, hitting your cervix relentlessly, needing to feel that sweet release inside of you.

Unable to hold yourself up any longer, your back fell onto the table, fists curling at the edges while your eyes glanced down, lips agape at the sight of your step father bottoming out in you. His fingers connecting at your throbbing, pulsating clit rubbing fast but sensual circles into the sensitive area.

“Daddy…” Your voice was hoarse, on the verge of cracking from the overstimulation, only egging him on more.

Balls slapping against your skin with each impulsive blow, your hips rolled against him in unison, grinding down until you felt the texture of his partially unshaved hair, needing every singular inch of his cock buried in you.

His eyes never left your vulnerable body, focusing on how with each movement your body responded positively, feeling the warmth of your hot nectar coating and warming his length.

You were beautiful, sexy, breathtakingly attractive displayed beneath him, lips parted lustfully as he devoured you.

“Are you going to cum for daddy hm? Cum all over me cock, my little whore.” The degrading words stroke you in a fulfilling need, a building desire bubbling inside you. You felt like a dirty little secret, having sex with an older man who happened to be your step father, so wrong yet felt so, so right.

His frigid touch sent chills down your spine when he wrapped his large hand around your throat, holding you down while he continued to pump in and out of your dripping cunt, watching how your pussy was so willing and eager to take him.

You were close, so close to your climax.

“Ke-keep going. Harder..” You barely managed to muffle out from the grip he had on your neck. His frigid, cold eyes staring at you with a animalistic expression, a sly smirk on his face.

Your wish was his command. The entire table shook beneath you, a glass vase falling off and shattering on the floor while your eyes fluttered back. 

His free hand grasped your breast, clutching the cushiony skin when he felt your toes curl around his waist.

“Go on love, don’t hold back. Show me how that pretty pussy feels… Cum for me.” Within seconds your lustful, loud moans were filling the room as you came undone, your sweet nectar flowing like a river down onto Tommy’s cock. The beautiful, euphoric reaction of your high not allowing him to wait any longer. His seed spilling out into your pussy, shooting sporadically against your walls painting your insides white.

When he pulled out he looked at the work of art, watching his cum leaking out if you before pushing it back inside making you mewl from his touch.

“There, there. You’ll be alright. I have to get going, your mother is expecting me anytime now.” You pouted in confusion, unsure if you were to ever see Tommy again. He noticed the fret in your expression and made an offer.

“I don’t want any of these fuckers touching you. I have the money and your mother doesn’t have to know I could buy you your own place in Birmingham. A safe property, not too far from me but not close enough your mum would ever figure it out. How does that sound darling? I could offer you anything and everything you ever wanted, including me cock anytime you want…” This was a big decision and maybe you would have been thinking more clearly if he hadn’t just fucked you senseless. Agreeing to the terms, he nodded, gathering his belongings and kissing you gently on the cheek. Before he could leave you stopped him.

“Wha-what are you going to tell my mum?” Lighting a cigarette, he blew the smoke from his lips.

“Don’t worry she’ll never know I found you, but if you change your mind. I have her number. She’s not a bad person, your mum just think about that eh? All the information you may not know. Life lesson one from a step father to his daughter, always know both sides of the story, only way to play the game your way.”

When Tommy drove home Lizzie was pacing once more with a dire need to know if her husband had found you or made any progress.

“Well, what did you find out?” Tommy shook his head no, causing Lizzie to frown in sadness, feeling on the brink of tears once more though this journey always seemed to end the same, absolutely nowhere.

“Dead end. Maybe one day she will come around eh?” Lizzie was filled with sorrow, going to her coping mechanism of having a glass of whiskey and a smoke. Meanwhile Tommy was adjusting himself beneath the desk, reminiscing your sweet scent and the feeling of your cunt wrapped around his cock, fucking perfect you were and within a week you’d be moved out here, 45 minutes away. A drive he was willing to make for his newly found step daughter.

[jessicalprice]

So I've spent a lot of time untangling Christian exegesis of parables and talking about how the way Christians interpret parables almost always ends up being antisemitic.

But aside from how it makes them think about Jews and Judaism and Jewishness, I also want to talk a bit about how it makes them sympathize more with abusers than with victims.

The easy-to-point-to culprit here is the trilogy of parables that culminates in what most Christians know as the Prodigal Son story.

The common interpretation of these parables is that God does (and therefore Christians should) value a repentant sinner over someone who's never sinned.

The problem here isn't the stories themselves--they're pretty enigmatic as far as their actual meanings--but Luke's gloss:

"Just so, I tell you, there will be more joy in heaven over one sinner who repents than over ninety-nine righteous persons who need no repentance."

(Mark says, "So it is not the will of your Father in heaven that one of these little ones should be lost," which is very different.

So on its face, in 2023, that's a blatantly dangerous, abuser-supporting belief. What is it like to be a child sexually abused by your youth pastor and to hear that the fact that he hurt you is part of what makes him somehow spiritually "better" than you?

And we can see it play out in the way Kevin M. Young, a popular progressive pastor on Twitter (who describes himself as "post-evangelical" and was the senior pastor at a Quaker congregation) responded to being told one of his tweets was antisemitic, and then jumped in to support a woman who responded by identifying herself as a fan of John Chrysostom (the literal author of "Against the Jews" and the most antisemitic of the Church Fathers, which is saying something).

I'm not going to transcribe the whole thing, because it's not all that important for what I have to say about this, but I am going to call out a few lines:

"The American Christian approach to t'shuvah sees the victim's spirit, character, and speech as equally important to the offenders. I.e. in Christendom, the victim can exceed the sin of the offender simply by their reaction (if it be in sin or acted in a way that is not Spirit led)."

So, to be clear, if someone assaults you, and you don't meekly forgive them in a "Spirit led" way, you're somehow worse than they are.

The uniquely Christian brain rot here is in seeing every sin as an opportunity for forgiveness. After all, if being a repentant sinner gives you a higher spiritual status--if there's more "rejoicing in Heaven" over you--than that of your victim, then you have to sin to get there. It treats other people as props in your salvation journey, not as fellow humans whose suffering matters. (Combine that with the Christian idea that suffering is somehow virtuous in and of itself, and you've got a very toxic recipe. Not only, by abusing others, are you guaranteeing your own value as a repentant sinner, but you're giving your victim the opportunity to ennoble themselves through suffering.)

Of course, a key word here is repentant. Put a pin in that.

These sort of exchanges on Twitter--a Christian being outright genocidal toward Jews, and a supposedly progressive Christian figure jumping in to defend the Christian, with seemingly no ability to comprehend that the Jews in the conversation are human beings who may have their own trauma around violently antisemitic language, with boundless empathy for the Christian abuser and none for the Jewish targets of their abuse--happen frequently and just as frequently leave Jwitter baffled in addition to angry.

Why all this empathy for the abuser and none for the victims?

I think a lot of this comes out of progressive Christian exegesis of parables, which is frequently looking for the radical "twist" to the story.

E.g. in the story of the Pharisee and the Tax Collector, the assumption is that the audience of the time would have empathized with the Pharisee, and thus the twist is to make them empathize with the tax collector. In the story of the Good Samaritan, the assumption is that they would have seen the Samaritan as a threat, and the twist is to make him the hero.

The thinking goes that the audience would have had empathy for certain groups and none for others, so the stories push them to feel that empathy for the latter, and that this was needed to balance the scales, to make sure everyone was receiving love and empathy and care.

Except that this, in modernity, has the effect of simply reversing the roles, not balancing them. The groups that are assumed to be in good social standing get no empathy, even become the implicit villains, and the groups (supposedly, since this is now a Christian-dominant society) traditionally looked down on get all of it.

That might still be a balancing act if the "looked down on" groups were actually marginalized. But in the Christian imagination, that role is filled by sinners in need of Christian grace, not necessarily demographically marginalized groups.

The idea seems to be that the victims are getting sympathy from elsewhere, so it's the Christian's job to make sure the abuser/sinner gets sympathy too.

But I'll point again to that pesky word "repentant."

Ultimately, when it comes to treatment of Jews and Muslims and anyone else who points out that a Christian has in some way harmed them, Christian sympathy goes immediately to the offender before the offender has even expressed any repentance.

The repentant sinner is so much more valuable, at this point, than their victims that they must be preemptively forgiven, that they are more valuable purely because they now have the potential to repent.

And this seems to be lurking under not just how "progressive" pastors act on Twitter, but in a lot of our cultural narratives around, say, college rapists and their futures, around white people who are publicly called out for racist acts, etc.

[cryptidghostgirl]

Here is a fic ask? Or an idea that popped into my head! Soo I got this idea of Fem! Reader being this Nephalem thing, she made some deal with God, and God lost, she was aloud to make some corrupt angels.

More on reader, she works at the hotel, posing as a normal demon, but she doesn't sing nor dance, how odd because everyone does!..

Adam being her next target, they strike a deal that if he gets the idea of Extermination he can have one thing of whatever he wanted of course reader wanted something in return, his wings. It happened but than he soon died, and before he truly died, Adam could hear he voice, and this holy but demonic chain and parper appeared, indicating he made a deal made literally everyone freeze.

Singing this song, is basically Reader angel and demon side debating what to do! https://youtu.be/0Y9rL6xpvlk?si=i_rjScHV8Kg2qwjp

I can imagine the reactions of the others that where there. 🤩💃🕺

Her taking Adam's precious wings instead of his soul, I can imagine she probably has Lucifer, the other deadly sins and even lillith under a contract as well.

Also take your time with this! I know it a lot to take in haha! Drink water okay!!

A/N I hate Adam so this request is very fun :) Also, I just went off the vibes of the song rather than incorporating lyrics for the most part, I hope that is okay. Also I made her and Lucifer friends because I wanted to.

Absolute Power Corrupts Absolutely (Adam x Reader)

Pairing: Adam x Reader

Warnings: So many. Um, gore, abuse, just generally Y/n being evil and malicious. Adam.

Word Count: 2,432

Master Lists:

Master Lists 

Hazbin Hotel Master List

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Y/n wasn't supposed to exist. Then again, souls trapped in Purgatory weren't supposed to challenge God, but she had done that too. It had been a simple bet, based entirely on God's belief that absolute power does not corrupt absolutely. He had lost and so, Y/n had become something else.

Not quite good, not quite bad. Neither a sinner nor a winner, a demon or an angel. She was something in the the middle, something worse. She called herself the God of Prospects, she was known as a nephalem.

A traveler between worlds, Y/n found herself the perfect fit when she had first heard of Lucifer's daughter's hotel. The two were friends of a sort and she had been quite bored of late, when he had mentioned it off hand her eyes had lit up with hunger. Lucifer had known that look, the irreversible calamity that always seemed to follow not far behind it.

"Just don't make a deal with Charlie, please." was all he had said on the matter, his voice bleeding.

Y/n had hummed a noncommittal response but took his plea to heart.

The others at the hotel were generally wary of Y/n. Even in her demon form, she cut an intimidating figure. Half a head taller than Charlie, thin muscles tracking the course of her limbs - she radiated power. Her steps were quiet and determined, the crowd never failed to part for her.

Charlie knew nothing of Y/n's truth of course, only that she was a friend of her father's. This was confirmed when Lucifer eventually visited the hotel and the pair greeted one another warmly and so, Charlie trusted her implicitly despite every sign not to. Still, she was wary. She was wary because Alastor gave Y/n a wide birth at all times and Alastor never feared anyone. When Charlie had questioned him on the matter, he always carefully changed the subject.

When Lucifer had gotten Charlie the meeting in Heaven, he had asked Y/n to go with. Neither Charlie nor Vaggie knew why save for the fact that maybe Lucifer wanted to keep an eye on his daughter. He had, after all, had a tone steeped in regret when he had told the pair he would be unable to come with himself and Y/n was his friend. It kind of made sense. Kind of.

It was there Y/n met Adam. He had pulled her aside before the chaos of the trial, making brazen advances towards her. Never having had the pleasure of meeting the first man before, she was amused to no extent by his bravado. He didn't suit Heaven at all, in her opinion, yet another example of the opinion she had proven to God all those years before. He might've been a good man once, but he was no longer. Absolute power corrupts absolutely.

"So what do you say, sweet cheeks?" Adam had asked, his hands on his hips after having described everything he could 'do to her.'

Y/n had stared at him so long and hard he had almost begun to shake. Only then had she spoken, her voice like sharp gravel on bare feet, hot asphalt on hands in the dead of summer. It tore the world around it, it burned.

"Do you have any idea who I am?"

"Uh, hot demon snatch?"

Y/n had laughed at this, her teeth sharpened into points. Her head thrown back in glee, Adam had watched in confusion. When she had finally calmed her wild and uncalled for, in his opinion, joy, she had met his eyes once again, hers burning lazy fire.

"I am the God of Prospects. I will be your doom."

He hadn't known it then, but she had been right. It was strange. Adam had always liked women with a temper, hence his picks for the exorcists he worked with, but he had never liked being outshined, overpowered. It made him uncomfortable, he stayed away from women like that. Yet, something about Y/n in all her carefree composure, all her spiraling damnation, drew him to her.

"Let's make a bet."

She had held her hand out to him then, her nails sharp enough to draw blood.

"A deal?"

Adam had heard of deals in Hell, what an overlord could do through such a thing. He eyed her in suspicion.

"Did you listen to what I said? No, a bet." Y/n corrected tactfully.

"You're not an overlord, are you?"

"No."

Y/n's grin widened, unsettling him further.

"Then what is it?"

"If you win this war that is bound to happen, I will go with you. If you do not, I will take something from you."

"And how do you know it is going to be a war?"

All pretense was gone, he was nothing but a man in her scorching gaze. A shiver traveled its way down his spine, unbidden.

"I told you." she replied, as if speaking to an ignorant child, "I am the God of Prospects."

Y/n had been suspiciously absent from the battle until its very end. She appeared beside Angel Dust as Lucifer and Charlie stood before Adam, laying beaten and bloody on the ground.

"Where the hell have you been?" Angel asked and Y/n smiled, her arms crossed.

"I told you," and she had indeed told them all, the night before at the bar, "I would have made it unfair."

"Like any of us beleive you're actually that powerful." Angel scoffed and Y/n just shrugged, watching the scene play out before her in anticipation.

This was what she had been waiting for all along. She hadn't realized it until she had met Adam in person but, Y/n knew the cure to her boredom and it was not the hotel. No, the hotel was just part of the gateway, same as Adam. Really, the last time she could recall being genuinely entertained was when she had first placed that bet against God. New challenges to face, new mountains to climb, whisked past her minds eye. Plans formed and reformed, she made matter out of nothing.

"How does mercy taste you little bitch?" Lucifer said as he and Charlie turned their backs on Adam, joining the small group of people who had congregated behind them.

"No..." Adam weakly replied, slowly getting to his feet, "You don't get to end this."

Y/n could see his face now, for the first time, without his mask blocking it. She had been right all along, he had always just been a man. Mythologized, but a man none the less.

"I am fucking Adam!" he yelled, pulling himself from the crater, "I am the fucking man, and you're just some fucking clown or something! I started everything on Earth! All of mankind came from these fucking nuts. You all should be worshiping me, you ungrateful, disgusting, fucking..."

He trailed off as he caught sight of Y/n. She stood near the back, her arms crossed. Everyone looked around, trying to figure out what had him so out of it when they realized his frantic gaze was being met by none other than Y/n.

As she stepped between Vaggie and Lucifer, she began to change. Large black wings sprouted from her back, a black halo, similar to the one the exorcists wore, appeared above her head. Then there were the thorns, black vines twisting their way around her limbs. She leered over the now trembling Adam.

"Y/n..." Lucifer began, the smile long since having vanished from his face, "what did you do."

"I made a bet, that is all." she placidly replied, not bothering to look at the man.

She licked her lips in hunger, her mouth full of razors. Adam stumbled a step back.

"No!" he yelled, "It's not over! The war is not over! I... I..."

"This is your fate now."

The group watched in horror as Y/n grew taller, her limbs and torso stretching out thin and monstrous. She looked emaciated, she looked like death.

"NO, it's not!"

"I choose your fate now or did you forget about your side of the bargain? I will get what I am owed."

With a flick of her finger, Adam was raised into the air by glowing black, thorny vines. He struggled against the bonds as she turned his back towards her. Even now, he couldn't help but find something compelling in her, something that drew him to her.

"What are you doing? What are yo-"

He cut himself off in a terrible, protracted scream. The sound of tearing flesh and cracking bone was nauseating as Y/n slowly ripped the wings from his back. She let him fall, whimpering and bloodied, to the ground. Turning the wings over before her eyes, she examined them carefully as she shrunk back to her normal size and body shape.

"Beautiful but... I already have a pair." she mused before throwing them to the side.

"What are you?" Vaggie asked, breathless, as Y/n turned back to the group.

Her hands were stained golden in blood as were her teeth. She grinned.

"I am the God of Prospects. I am corrupted by absolute power."

"Jesus, Y/n." Lucifer sighed, a hand to his head, "You're scaring them."

"Good."

"You knew?" Charlie asked her father in shock and he nodded softly.

"But I've never..."

"Seen me like this before." Y/n finished the thought for her friend, "In my true form. It is a lot to digest, I try to be kind."

"You try to be kind?" Husk repeated.

"Oh I like her." Cherri smiled brightly and Y/n tilted her head to the side in thanks.

It was now, as Lute pulled herself from the wreckage and Adam took his last stuttering breaths that she screamed, rushing to her master's side.

"Sir? Sir?!" she asked, flipping him over with her good arm.

Y/n turned to the scene, smiling. If this was the sort of thing her newfound passion would bring her, life was certainly about to become much more enjoyable.

"Stay with me, sir." Lute begged the dying man.

The last thing he did was smile up at her before falling dead. Charlie stepped forward with Vaggie not far behind her, her eyes glowing red with power and matching those of her father as he followed in her steps.

"Adam!" Lute yelled.

"It's over." Charlie announced, and the exorcist looked up.

"Take your little friends and go home." Lucifer added forcefully, "Please."

Lute looked between them for a moment before obeying, calling the retreat. The exorcists rose into the air, disappearing back through the portal. but not before she had grabbed Adam's fallen halo.

Charlie now turned to Y/n, the same fire burning in her eyes.

"Why are you here?" she asked.

Y/n shrugged noncommitally.

"I was bored, you all are interesting."

Charlie took a deep breath.

"What are you?"

"I am the God of Prospects."

"She is a nephalem. Well, sort of." Lucifer corrected and Y/n pouted.

"A nephalem?" Vaggie asked.

"Neither an angel nor a demon."

"How... shouldn't you be in purgatory?" Angel asked, taking a step forward.

"Does she look like she should be in purgatory?" Husk countered.

"I was there for a while."

"Really? What happened?" Cherri asked in excitment.

Y/n turned to her.

"I made a bet with God."

"And she won. Hooray, now, who is up for pancakes?"

After some conversation, it was determined that Y/n would be allowed to continue her stay at the hotel as long as she promised to protect it should the battle return. Y/n knew it would and told everyone as much, she agreed to the terms. Then the subject at hand had turned to lamentation. For the hotel, for their friends - the minute Charlie had brought up Alastor and his supposed death, Y/n had stopped her.

Holding a hand out to the demon princess, Y/n closed her eyes.

"He's injured, but alive." she announced after a moment, "I will go get him."

Before anyone had the chance to ask her how she knew or what she meant, Y/n had taken off into the sky on her wings of night.

The radio tower was in pieces, and Alastor sulked within. He looked up at the sound of her entry, his eyes wide and wild.

"Took a beating there, huh." Y/n mused playfully and Alastor scoffed, "I have a new job for you."

"What." he spat back, "Something else to get me almost killed?"

"Maybe." Y/n shrugged, "Either way, you know you can't refuse."

Vines, the same ones that had held Adam, appeared on Alastor, wrapping their way around him, bringing him to his knees. He grunted softly as they hit the ground. He knew she was right. He had been vain and a fool, he had been cocky. He had made a bet, and now had to lay in the grave she dug for him.

"What is that job?" he asked through gritted teeth.

"You're going to help me get a meeting with God."

Y/n hopped up onto a mostly intact table, taking a seat upon it. Alastor watched her, speechless.

"Yeah, he's sorta been, you know, avoiding my calls? Between you and me, I think he's pissy he lost our bet."

"Why do you want a meeting with him? Don't you already have everything?"

"Almost everything. I want to play a game."

"With God."

"With God."

"What for?"

Y/n hummed in thought, kicking her legs slightly.

"I want to be corrupted absolutely."

Alastor could read between the lines, he had known her long enough. His eyes widened with surprise. Y/n wanted power, to replace the man upstairs. She wanted to be God, not just a nephalem. She was always crossing boundaries, doing things she wasn't supposed to do, being things she wasn't supposed to be. Who was to say she couldn't do this too? Still, the fear and uncertainty ate away at him. He had no choice but to bend to her will but that didn't mean he had to have complete faith.

Y/n stood again in response to Alastor's doubtful look, her vines dragging him to his feet. She stared him dead in the eyes, her hands on her hips.

"Remember, foolish man, if not for my kindness you too would be gone. Don't try anything, just keep holding up that lovely facade of yours at the Hotel. I will alert you to when your skills are needed."

[evagreen-stories]

Mother’s madness | (Aemond x f!lowborn!reader) (1/?)

Summary: Aemond, troubled by his unfruitful marriage and the stress of the war, takes himself a bedslave when he seizes Harrenhal and gets more attached to her than he ever thought possible. Bringing her to the Red Keep after he needs to leave Harrenhal would not go as he hoped it would, especially after the birth of the babes he sired onto her.

Warnings: mentions of violence, light angst (kinda?), canon typical misogyny, canon typical behaviour, dark!aemond, abusive!aemond, forced relationship, forced impregnantion, canon typical classicism, mentions of assault, stockholm syndrom (kind of), non-canon storyline

Divider @targaryen-dynasty

masterlist part 2 >

You sat on the edge of the bed, playing with your fingers as you stared into the lit fire. The room was silent apart from the crackling of the fire and you felt his stare burn into you. It felt as though a heavy burden lay atop your head, suffocating you with every moment made to spend in his presence.

You had no idea how, for you were nothing but a lowborn bastard fathered by some bright haired high-born, working as a servant in the castle of Harrenhal. Young, mere 16 years of age, plain features, you had never thought yourself to be anything special, though it seems there was at least one person that would disagree with that. 

Prince Regent Aemond Targaryen.

Somehow, in all the panic and madness that was his seize of the city, you had caught his eye.

It had all happened so fast. Dragged into his chambers by his guards you had little time to process what was happening. He was already on top of you when you finally understood what now was your fate. Claimed as his spoil of war and made his bedslave, he had taken your maidenhead with force that night, in the same ruthless manner he would many nights after that. 

Locked in his chambers there was little room for escape and after only three turns of the moon, a master had proclaimed you to be with child, shortly after that he had confirmed you to be carrying twins.

You had asked him for moontea more than once, yet were always denied. You were his to do with as he pleased and he was set on you having a child of his.

You often wondered why. You were busy tending to him all day and night, from fulfilling his every desire to bathing him and oiling his hair. Yet, in his many times of absence whenever he was out fighting on the battlefield, you had nothing else to do but think.

Eventually, you had settled on your own theory; He was married to Floris Baratheon, they had been wed two years before the war first started. Now, their fourth year of marriage approached, and after much struggle she brought forth only two daughters. You had heard all the stories about her and Aemond, of countless miscarriages, about the daughter that died not even a week after her birth, leaving him with only one daughter said to be equally as small and weak as her sisters, though still alive by some miracle of the gods. 

The rumours about their misfortune had travelled fast and far, many of those that opposed him and his brother's reign had claimed he been accursed, even before he slayed his own kin. She was said to be with child now as well, though it was to be seen whether this one would survive his curse or not.

As for your own detriment, you were sure you were a mere experiment of his, an attempt to figure out if he was the cause of the unfruitfulness of his marriage or his wife was. A desperate wish of his to try and prove the rumours wrong.

You didn't know if it was luck or a curse of your own that his seed had taken immediately. 

Your womb had filled with not one but two of his children and you had encountered no issues in carrying them so far. Because of this it was little surprise he had taken you back to the Red Keep with him when he was summoned back to King's Landing.

There, neither his wife nor his mother were impressed with his choices. your mere presence was despised by everyone but him. Quickly you had learned to appreciate being confined to his chambers and to his company alone, as well as the company of the two babes growing in you.

He was a violent man, quick to anger and impatient, yet as your belly had started to swell with his children he seemed more at ease, being calm and almost affectionate so long you did not disobey or disappoint him. 

Quickly adapting, you had learned to submit to all his whims and wills, even if it hurt at times, for you knew there was greater hurt waiting if you didn't. 

There was nothing that upset him more than any form of rejection or disrespect from you.

The weeks went by quickly, you had been with child for almost seven moons now, the presence of two made your stomach larger and rounder than you'd ever expected to be, even though two moons were still to come.

As you’re lost deep in thought his deep voice brings you back to reality.

“Stop sulking like that, you will ruin your pretty face.”

Ungrateful wench. Look at me when I’m talking to you. 

Hearing his voice you turn to face him quickly, seeing him sitting at his desk and eyeing you with a slight glare. Lowering your head for a moment in an apologetic gesture you reply, “I apologise, my price.”

He clicks his tongue in irritation. “You’re making that face again. Do you wish for another reminder of your place?” He huffs, taking a long sip from his cup as his eye never leaves your expression.

“Please don’t, my prince. I’m deeply sorry.” You answer quickly, trying to hide the small tremble in your voice.

He gets up from his chair and walks over to you, standing in front of you and bringing his hand to your chin, tilting your head to look up at him. “Then put on a pretty smile for me. You know the rules.” 

You pull your lips into a small smile that does little to hide the gloominess in your eyes. He doesn't care much for that though, so long you do as he commands. 

“Good. That’s my good girl, that’s what I want to see from you.” He praises and pats your head before walking back to his desk, gesturing you to follow he says, “Come here to me, sweet doll.”

You follow suit, grunting slightly as you pull all three of you up from the bed and waddle over to him, standing next to him on his chair and waiting for further instructions.

“Bend over.” He commands, tapping the desk right in front of you with a cruel smirk. “I want to see where I hit you the hardest last time.”

Swallowing nervously you do as told, hiking up your dress to reveal your bare skin underneath and bending over the table as far as your swollen belly allows you to. The large bruises on your right buttock glow brightly against your pale skin, the dim candlelight making the purple look more vibrant than usual.

“Mh. Good.” You can hear his voice and flinch slight when you feel his cold hand make contact with your flesh, roaming over your marked body in a firm yet gentle manner. “And can you remember why I did this?” His voice was as cold as his hand, no emotion present as he inspects the aftermath of your last punishment closer. 

“Because I didn’t serve you well enough, my prince.” 

“Correct.” A sudden slap lands right on the bruise, the pain flaring up again making you gasp. “I hope you’ve learned your lesson because if I have to do it again you really won’t like it.” 

Flinching and groaning at another slap you answer quickly. “I have, my prince.”

“Good.” He was pleased with your submission. His hand leaves your flesh as he tells you, “Fix your dress. I will send you out to the city to collect something for me.” 

He rummages through a drawer of his desk as you take a step back, letting go of your dress and letting it fall down to your feet again. He pulls out a piece of parchment that already has mysterious words written on it that you can't understand and scribbles an address at the foot of it. He hands you a pouch full of coin. “Go and be quick about it. Take the guards with you, and give me those back as soon as you return.” He said, his long digit tapping the bag of coins in your hand.

“It is late, my prince. Are any shops still open at this time of night?” You wonder out loud, genuinely confused. 

It was nothing new for him to send you out to run errands. It was a welcome change from your duties as bedslave and personal maid, as you were still responsible for all his comforts. From bathing him and brushing his hair, to carrying his children to satisfy all his desires. He kept you in his chambers for this very purpose, he preferred your soft tender hands over those of anyone else, even if it meant summoning the wrath of his wife and others. Running errands for him was also the only other time you got to leave the suffocating castle walls. 

In theory you were free to roam the gardens and courtyard, yet the disgusted looks and insults from the ladies there had you staying in his chambers at all times.

“Don’t question me. I want it now. Do as I say and leave at once.” His voice is laced with irritation. 

Is she insolent or plain stupid?

You mumble an apology and bow, grabbing a cloak and hurrying out the room before you manage to mess up again. 

As much as you already loved your children still growing in your belly, in the most recent days you've felt as though they depleted your mind and made you more prone to upsetting your master. 

I can’t upset him. I need to do good.

You gathered two guards to keep you safe as you made your way down into the city, down the streets and alleyways, the address he gave you was far from the castle, close to Flea Bottom. 

Many people stared at you as you made your way through the streets. The night folk were out, it was rare to see a pregnant woman amongst them, even less common for one to be accompanied by royal guards.

You arrived in a small alleyway at last, an unseemingly shop with a sign above the door, you couldn't make out the words in the darkness, only make out a few herbs painted onto the wooden slap that made the sign. 

As you enter a bell announces your entry. “Good evening.” You say into the small and empty shop littered with different containers and brown bottles, a few tools hanging on the walls, the smell of all kinds of herbs mixing in the air and making your head spin soon enough. 

“Good evening,” the hoarse voice of an elderly woman replies as she enters the room through a curtain blocking off the other parts of the building. “Can i help you?”

“Yes. I am here to pick something up for Prince Aemond.” 

She looks you up and down, taking a deep breath as an expression of suspicion drapes over her previously welcoming one. “Really now? And what exactly has our prince sent you to collect?”

“He did not say.” You answer, reaching into the pocket of your cloak to retrieve both the parchment and coin. “But he gave me this note and the coin to pay for it.” 

You had notices strange words written over the address, words you could not understand, yet as this woman takes the note from you it appears she knows their meaning as she surries off behind the curtain she came from and brings back a small vial of strange liquid as well as a packet wrapped in paper, tied close with a string. 

“Here, my dear.” she hands them over to you. “Make sure you take caution on your way back to the palace. You dont want anything… unfortunate to happen to you in the city this late at night.”

“I will, thank you. How much do you get?” You reply as you open the pouch, ready to pay.

“No need for coin, my lady. Its on the house - for our pince’s sake.'' She smiles kindly, bowing slightly as she does.

You mirror her smile, bowing instinctively in return as you had learned to do in the Red Keep - bowing a hundred times too often was better than bowing once too little, you had understood that quickly.

“That is very kind of you, ma’m. I shall inform the prince about your generosity.” Packing away everything into various pockets in your cloak you bid goodbye, only to be stopped by the sound of her voice as you're about to reach the door. 

“I can’t help but notice you are with child. If you are to give birth in the Red Keep, I advise you to be careful.”

Her words make you stop dead in your tracks, turning around slowly to look at her with a frown on your face. “I… I’m sorry?”

“The Red Keep is a dangerous place for women, especially mothers and their small children. You’re having twins, you need be extra cautious.” She said as if it was the most normal thing in the world, as if she didn't just say one of the most shocking things you’ve ever heard. 

How does she know this?

“I-” You freeze in shock as you replay her words in you mind, “H-How do you know i’m expecting twins? And… what do I need to be cautious about?”

She smiles back, a smile filled not with innocence but with wisdom and knowledge, one that must’ve witnessed the wicked ways of this world on maany occasions. “I have seen many  women passing through my shop, my dear.” She gestures around to all the varying herbs and potions before continuing “I know when a woman is pregnant and can see when she is carrying twins. As for you needing to be cautious… there are many strange things happening in the Red Keep. Beware, no one there is your friend. The walls have eyes and ears. Do not trust anyone, not the maesters, either.”

“The maesters? Why not them? Are they not there to help me?” Fear creeps up within you, your hand rising to rest on your belly in a protective manner.

“The maesters are servants of the crown and no one in the crown's service can be trusted. They have their own agenda as well.” She says with confidence, stating it as fact rather than an opinion. She steps out from behind the counter, approaching you slowly. “There is much you don't know, my dear, I only wish to warn you. I’m worried for the lives of your children.”

“Can you-” You begin but are interrupted by the door swinging open. The guards have waited long enough and demand your return to the palace. 

You sigh in defeat, knowing that defying the guards is something Aemond will be informed of. Turning to face the elderly lady you bid goodbye. “I apologise. Have a good night, ma’m.” 

She simply smiles warmly. “May the gods protect you.” and watches as you leave.

You make your way back to the palace, her words running through your head like a mantra as you try to figure out the meaning of them.

You need to stop often, taking breaks to you catch your breath.

Stupid hills. Stupid steps.

It must be well in the night now, perhaps even early in the first morning hours, when you finally arrive back in the palace. You open the door to your shared chambers carefully, making sure not to wake the prince. Slipping inside carefully you make no noise in the barely lit room, only letting out a small squeal when you turn around and see him sit at his desk still, a book spread out in front of him as a single candle by his right side illuminates the pages.

“You’re still awake, my prince.” Your voice is but a mere whisper as you start fidgeting with your fingers.

He is dressed in his nightwear and doesn't even bother to look up from his book as he answers, “You took your time.” His voice is laced with annoyance and anger. It's now he looks up at you, studying your frame up and down before demanding, “Stand in front of me.”

You walk over to him, feeling the need to explain yourself as you do so. “I apologise, my prince. The walk back uphill and all the stairs have gotten more difficult with the two babes growing inside of me. I was in need of a few breaks.”

He nods, waiting for you to stand right in front of you. He takes a deep breath as if to calm himself and places a hand on your belly, his palm right over the spot one of the babes always liked to kick into. “You are indeed getting rather large. What have you brought me?”

You look at his hand on your belly. It's a gesture that would be sweet between husband and wife, yet you were not that. Not anywhere close. His growing fascination with your bump always made your blood run cold for some reason. You empty your pockets, placing all of the contents on the desk in front of him. 

“The coin back… and these two things.”

He didn't take his hand off your bump as he watched your movements and inspected the items with his eye. 

His free hand then travels to your hip, pulling you closer to stand between his legs as he keeps his other hand roaming your belly, looking up at you and studying your tired expression. 

After a while he instructs you, his voice now much calmer and seeming almost content as he speaks, “Go sit on the bed. Don’t speak another word unless I say otherwise.”

You nod silently and walk over to the bed, sitting down and relishing the feeling of relief that overwhelms you when the weight of three is finally lifted off your aching feet. 

Watching him as he inspects the package and vile you see him smell all of it, grimacing at the smell of what must be a potion of sorts. You wondered what it smelled like but you knew better than to ask questions. He counts the coins, yet does not comment on them all still there. You want to tell him about the nice lady, but you know better than to disobey his command to stay silent.

He packed it all away, into the same drawer he had taken out the coins in the first place, then looks back up at you. He leans back into his chair, one hand resting on his leg as the other reaches for the cup next to him. “Take off your dress.” He orders and keeps taking the last few sips from the wine.

You do as told quickly, getting up from the bed to undo the straps that hold the dress in place and let it fall open, taking it off and placing it over a chair close to the bed before taking a seat again.

This was far from unusual, you knew his antics by now.

He preferred to play with his prey before devouring it.

Watching you intently he smiles as soon as the first patches of bare skin are revealed. He would never grow tired of ordering you around, too exhilarating was the power he held over you.

As a man, as a prince nonetheless. 

No one could stop him. 

Not his mother, not his wife, not the gods - and especially, not you.

He gets up and walks over to you, his eye roaming over every curve of your gravid body. Your belly grew larger with his children every day, your breasts too were round and swollen. 

They must hurt, he thought to himself from time to time, but until the milk would finally start to flow there was nothing he could do to provide relief. He had tried more than once already, ever the impatient man he was, though it seemed not to be the time for it yet.

His hand placed on your arm he firmly nudges you back and to your side. Lying there like this, on your side with your legs pulled onto the mattress, gave him easy access to indulge in you while also giving him a good view of the body he so worshipped. It was one of the very few positions in which he could take his sweet time without you struggling to breathe under the weight of his children pushing into you. 

He starts taking off his clothes when he strikes up conversation. It was odd, the calmer he took you, the more need for talk he seemed to have. Though the frequency in which he did this nowadays did make it normal to some degree.

“Tell me your fears. What worries you most about the coming birth?”

“Huh?”

Taken aback by his question, you struggle to find an answer. After many moments of tense silence, purely filled with the sounds of his clothes tossed away, you eventually reply. 

“I… I suppose dying…” 

It sounded more like a guess than an answer, Truthfully, you had never though of this yourself. 

Too hopeful that this birth could finally set you free from him, you had never nurtured any negative thoughts or critical questions about pregnancy or birth.

“Dying?” He seemed surprised. His hands worked on you with practised routine, pulling your body closer to the edge of the bed and pushing your legs forward to make space for him. 

He presses his bare manhood against the flesh of your core as he leans forward, hands roaming all over your stomach and breasts, firmly grabbing and playing with the nubs on them as if to check again for any precious liquid. 

“I take it you don’t worry about the lives of my children then. Only for yourself?”

“Of course I do!” You reply, voice a bit firmer now than before, feeling an immediate swell of anger and fear bubble deep inside you. Weird, that never happens. “I just… I think if I'm cold in my grave I can no longer worry about them at all. So, first should be the worry about my own life. Then, if I am to live through the birth, I can worry about them.”

“Interesting…” He says as he now turns his attention to his cock, taking it in his hand and running it through your folds several times. He was never a man that took much time to prepare you, he felt little need to do so. 

Your body responded within seconds of knowing what was about to happen, providing the necessary slick for him either way. On times he took you by surprise and pushed in without notice, it too had taken mere moments for your cunt to embrace and welcome him.

All mine. Responding just how she should.

“Then just trust me.” He says, grunting and huffing softly as he buries himself in the comfort of your walls, gripping onto him in familiar tightness. “You’ll see there will be little to worry about, sweet thing. Just relax. I’d hate to have you dead, too. You’d be of little use in a cold grave for both my children and me.”

Rutting into you at an increasing pace he is soon moaning and groaning with each thrust until he has rid himself of all his spend, grinding it into the deepest parts of you with deep growls and laboured breaths as his own body collapses forward onto yours, his forehead resting on your temple as his hot breath on your skin sends gooseflesh down your body. 

He could not describe it, there was no reasonable explanation for it, but it was you who he had always taken the most pleasure from. No whore or his wife could compare. You had brought him a sense of comfort  he would find nowhere else.

While pleasure wasn’t guaranteed for you in all his takings, it was times like these you did feel it. Times like these where you felt less like a slave and more like a lover. When his bare, sweaty skin would cling to yours, the sensation of his hot breath on your neck making your own hitch in your throat, the inaudible words in what you think to be valyrian growled in his deep voice would make your stomach tighten in a familiar fashion.

In moments like these, you didn’t mind your fate too much.

The days pass and soon turn into weeks.

You never found out what the potion or herbs were about. Soon after that day however, Aemond had given you your own chambers for the first time ever since you came into his service. They were small and humble in comparison to his but still a far cry from what any servant or peasant could wish for.

A large bed with enough blankets and pillows to make it through the coldest winter nights, a table with two chairs, a sofa, two cradles, a wardrobe and other furniture, all made of richly coloured wood with intricate patterns and carvings. 

The chambers were far from his. He did not want screaming babes keeping him up at night, thus the adjustment needed to be made, even if the thought of your impending absence from his bed soured his mood already.

You may have been the prince regent’s favourite and were to have his bastard children, yet you were still a lowly bed slave, thus expected to give birth with only the standard precautions taken and to take care of both babes yourself. No wet nurse or handmaiden to help you. That much you were made aware of as soon as you had arrived in the Red Keep all those moons ago.

What is a frightening thought, to be so young and left to care for two babes alone, did give you a feel of hope regardless. 

Hope for some peace and quiet away from Aemond, hope for being able to sleep and wake up without his hands all over you, and the hope of him finally growing bored of you and relieving him of your service to him. 

There was only a small chance of that happening, you knew, yet you held onto that hope until the day he left for battle again.

He had indulged himself in you daily until then, knowing he would soon have no more chance to do so - at least for a while, until you were fully healed. 

When he had to leave for a long military operation he bid you goodbye before making his way to Vhagar. You watched him leave before retiring to your own chambers, happily confining yourself to your new chambers with books and yarn.

Less than a fortnight after Aemonds departure, the day had arrived. Going into labour in the late hours of the afternoon you had been bed bound for a whole day before your babes would finally make their arrival.

Two sons, healthy and strong despite their small size - the maester had assured you this was a common occurrence for twins. They would fill out soon, he claimed, aiding in calming your fears. 

To your surprise, you were not left as abandoned as you had expected to be. The maester cared for your body as you learned how to nurse your sons, how to change and bathe them. 

You were provided nourishing, large meals, lotions, oils and herbs, your belly bound by ever changing maids. You could tell these were benefits granted to you at the order of the prince. He must have instructed them to do so before he left.

Whether he did this out of the kindness of his heart or purely because he wished you back in his service as quickly as possible in the best possible condition you were not sure, yet you would not complain either.

All you did was focus on your sons who you named Aurelius Waters, the elder one, and Patroclus Waters, the younger one. Briefly had you considered naming them in the traditions of house Targaryen to appease Aemond, but he was not here. 

He could not interfere. They were bastards after all, so you took the liberty of naming them to your heart's content - the first time you've felt in control ever since being forced into his service.

Meanwhile, Aemond was busy on the battlefields, travelling back and forth between the crownlands and riverlands, aiding in one battle after the other as he brought victory after victory to his brother’s cause.

He found his days eerily quiet without the presence of his beloved bed slave by his side. His days seemed dark and gloomy, empty and devoid of life. He looked forward to when he would be reunited with you but to his dismay, his presence was needed for far longer than he had anticipated.

As the days went on, you had soon taken notice of both the maids and maesters who were seemingly fascinated by the fact that both babes were actually growing very fast and became more active than ever. Both were feeding at your breast all day long, soon turning plumb and full of life.

Why were they so suprised? Had they lied to you when they said all would be well?

You could not help but grow increasingly worried and suspicious at the maesters seemingly heightened interest in your sons, the words and warning of the mysterious old lady plaguing your mind even in your sleep. You started locking your chamber at night mere days after giving birth, finding yourself unable to sleep whenever you knew anyone could walk in and do something to your children while you slept.

You tried to stay calm, tried all you could to ease your mind. You tried to take a walk once. To go into the gardens you usually avoided for you knew there were often ladies whispering hurtful insults behind their hands. 

Walking there with both sons tied to your chest with a long, silken piece of fabric, you stopped dead in your tracks when you overheard the hushed whispers of who you assumed to be servans. You stayed and listened, like a deer hearing a branch snap. 

Really? One said. They wouldn’t do that. The other said. I’m certain! I’ve heard it with my own ears! Another proclaimed.

Your breath hitched in your throat, your heart skipped several beats as you continued to listen in on their conversation. You clutched your sons tighter and turned around on your heels, hurrying back into you chamber and shutting the door behind you with a loud thud, immediately turning the lock closed.

From that day on, the door would stay locked at all times.

You unlocked the door only on few occasions. Whenever a servant brought you food or came to clean, or whenever you put dirty nappies out for someone to take and get rid of. 

Maesters were no longer allowed in your room at all and no one was allowed to touch your sons. You did it all yourself. You could not bear the sight of anyone else touching them, too bad had your paranoia and fears gotten.

You kept the cradles right next to your bed and the babes tied to your chest more often than not. You slept only when they slept and fed, bathed and cleaned them yourself.

By the time Aemond finally returned two months after you welcomed your sons, you were a sleep deprived mess. Paranoid as ever with the door firmly locked at all times.

Something Aemond would be informed of by the maesters soon after his return.

masterlist part 2 >

[moriitis]

What would Toby do with a person with Lyra's exact appearance? Let's say they also have a similar personality. (Of course there would be no comparison)

I don't know how Toby would take it or what he would do and I'm really curious, seriously, I'm crazy.

WHY DO YOU GIVE ME ALL THESE SAD ASS ASKS OH MY GOD MY SHAYYYLAAA

Alright, I seriously fucking love this ask though, like so, so, so much. Thank you Anon for breaking my heart. I, too, am crazy about Toby and Lyra's relationship.

Content/Warnings; car accidents, mentions of abuse, alcohol, death, detailed descriptions of corpses, blood, brain matter, globe luxation (eyes popping out of sockets), vomit, bruises, stuttering, murder.

I guess to start this shit off, we better go back in time a little to talk about their relationship as siblings during the time Lyra was alive.

Their parents were deadbeat. I'll say it over and over again. Now don't get me wrong, Connie hated seeing her children living in poverty and being abused by their father, but you gotta remember Connie was a victim too. Abusive relationships SUCK and it's even worse when there are children involved because it makes it so much harder leaving. Did Connie allow the abuse to happen? On some times, yes, she did - because a part of her really believed that she loved this man, she wanted things to work and kids were.. well, they deserve a little slap here and again, right? I see a bitterness between Lyra and Connie because Lyra gets so angry at the fact that Connie sits and allows this to happen. Now when big fights did break out, like punching, screaming, things smashing and the cops being called, Connie did step in and try to calm her husband. Unfortunately, her husband was a heavy drinker and his father abused him, so drinking is his coping method to deal with his own abuse and trauma.

Due to having such an absent and useless mother, Lyra stood up and took the role to care for Toby at the young age. In fact, when Connie announced she were pregnant with Toby, Lyra cried so much because she knew how shit their family life was and it was unfair to bring a baby up in a situation they get no say in.

Lyra would dress Toby for school, make breakfast and ensured they both got the school bus on time. (During the time he still attended public schooling.)

She would 100% defend him in situations at school the best she could. Lyra wasn't particularly popular either, so really she took most the verbal abuse directed toward her brother.

After Toby got pulled for home schooling, she'd always feel so disgustingly anxious being on that school bus alone - without him.

She'd call the home phone almost every hour making sure he was okay.

Thankfully their father worked at a factory during the day, so she knew Toby was okay with their Mom who was a stay at home.

Despite everything, she was a bubbly and happy character, mostly because as she got older she got more freedom to stay away from home.

Lyra was a bit of a party animal, very social and had a nice group of friends.

She would not come back home for times on end, preferring to sleep on the couch at a friends just to avoid home.

But then she felt too guilty leaving Toby alone and would come back.

On the weekends, Lyra would take Toby with her to hang out with her friends! Her friends loved Toby, despite his tics.

They'd hang out at the mall a lot, which actually secured Lyra her first little job working in a clothing store her friend also worked at.

Which meant she earnt money to spoil Toby.

Like taking him to the arcades, bowling.

They went to the cinema once, which was a bad mistake because they came home too late and their father was still awake.

"Lyra.. are yo-oo..u awake?" Called a soft voice, a voice that lingered by the frame of her door. The light from the hallway illuminated the figure, casting shadows over her body that was outstretched on her bed. It was a familiar voice, a voice that made her turn almost instantly to glance over at the little brunette who was lingering by the door, his fingers hooked around the wood. Her door was only open a fraction but softly it pushed open a little, allowing more light to enter her dark room. She sat up, her fingers caressing the bare mattress below her as she forced a welcoming smile. It wasn't that she was unhappy or annoyed by Toby's presence, of course not - it was just the ache in her head that almost pulsated around her skull as she sat up.

"Hey you, no, I'm actually asleep," she teased softly, stifling her chuckle as she pulled her knees up close to her chest. It was always so cold in this house.

"Oh, should I go?" Toby replied much softer than before, already pulling away from the doorframe and descending back into the hallway.

Lyra rolled her eyes and scrunched up her brows. "Go?" she repeated, tilting her head to the side a little. The pain vibrated around her head, squeezing her skull and holding her brain captive. The pain was only temporary. "What's wrong?" she asked after a beat, wanting to capture his attention before he disappeared quietly down the creaky hall. Silence loomed over the two of them as Toby glanced back at Lyra, his brows twisted in concern as his fingers fiddled with the hem of his shirt anxiously.

"Did he-he-h... he hh-hurt you bad?" Toby finally spoke, those words so harsh despite the innocence in his voice. His words weighed heavy, so heavy even that her shoulders dropped a little at the question. Toby shouldn't have seen that, admittedly it was her fault for bringing them home so late.

So, with a little scoff, she shook her head softly although instinctively, her hand raised against the little bump on her head. It had stopped bleeding, thankfully, but the cut and bruise still felt fresh and raw. "No," she sounded convincing. "See? I'm fine." Lyra lied through her teeth, no, she wasn't fine.

Toby wasn't convinced and before he spoke, a grunt coming from their parents room frightened him closer toward Lyra's bed. She outstretched her arms out toward him a little, accepting him and acting as a barrier for any of his worries and fears. "He's asleep," Lyra reassured him and herself, her voice nothing but a whisper and Toby quietly climbed onto her bed. When did Toby get so big? A lump in her throat formed just looking at him.

His brown eyes darted toward her outstretched arms and he hesitated before slowly leaning his body against her own. It wasn't a proper hug, oh dear, no, Toby was too big for those now apparently but Lyra was satisfied to have him close to her regardless. Only if it were nothing but a shoulder.

-

Now, obviously we are aware that Lyra died in a car crash and I just HC that she reason she swerved and crashed into that tree was because she saw Slender on the road and it startled her so much. Toby always thought that it were a deer or something she tried to avoid - he knew how much she loved her animals.

-

"So, anyway, I told Abby that Jason was obviously just going after her because its Jason, he goes after everyone in school! But Abby didn't believe me and now she's all upset and mad at everyone but not Jason for breaking her heart?" Lyra groaned, hands gripped securely around the steering wheel as she vented away to her younger brother who sat behind her in the passenger seat. He was always a good listener and Lyra secretly knew he loved hearing all this gossip. For a brief moment, she glanced at the rear view mirror to Toby. He was exceptionally quiet today, arms crossed over his chest as he gazed aimlessly out the window. Her lips pursed at the sight, curiosity at what could possibly be plaguing her brother's mind? "Hey, you listening?" she asked, shooting occasional glances between the road and the brunette in the back.

Toby's brows furrowed for a moment, almost in irritation before his gaze softened upon connecting with Lyra. It wasn't often her looked at her in such a way and she raised a brow slightly, watching as closely as she could while also focusing on the road ahead.

The road ahead was quiet, no traffic, just them and the forest that surrounded them. The faint mumble of the radio, Lyra's music of course - Paramore more notably playing.

"Yeah," Toby choked out slowly, clearing his throat and shuffling in his seat as he tried to rearrange his thoughts and remember what Lyra was even blabbering about prior. She knew he were lying though and narrowed her eyes at him suspiciously, although she were just teasing.

"Liar," she pointed an index finger up at him before chuckling a short chuckle. Toby's lip curled a little at the corner but other than that, he remained quiet. Lyra knew Toby wasn't himself, not anymore, sure he was getting older and moodier - but his mental health played a lot into that too.

"I'm ssorry, j-just thinking about th-"

"What the fuck?!"

The smell of gas burned within his nostrils as he awoke to nothing but a fuzzy haze. Whatever the fuck happened, he wasn't sure, but now the car was flipped upside down. He blinked once, twice, trying to make sense of things as he glanced up. His blood coated the interior roof of the car, shit he must've cut his head up pretty bad - thankfully he couldn't feel shit though. The radio was still playing, filling the silence as the indicators ticked and the car groaned with each move Toby made.

"You are the only exception, you are the only exception~" the radio continued to play Paramore and sat atop the roof was Lyra's IPod that was still connected.

"Lyra-" Toby grumbled groggily as he went to reach out to the tuffs of blonde that poked out from beside the airbag. His seatbelt, still secured, restricted him and he fought against it for a moment as his main focus was on his sister. "Lyra, speak to me-" he grumbled through gritted teeth as his hands helplessly began to find the buckle of his belt, clicking it out and dropping him down onto the roof of the car with a loud thud. He could feel the air thickening around him as he tried to navigate around the carnage, upside down to help his sister. His heart was beating a million beats per second as he army crawled as close as he could to Lyra, the whole bonnet of the car practically enveloping a tree in a cold, metallic hug.

"Lyra," he repeated through gritted teeth, holding his breath at the thought of being alone out here in a wrecked car, his anxiety clawing at his very skin as he slowly craned his head around to the drivers seat. "Please talk to me, please-" he begged softly, hand reaching out slowly to brush a tuff of her blonde hair away from her face.

Lyra remained motionless, unresponsive and Toby hoped and begged and prayed to any God that perhaps she was just unconscious. "Wake up, Lyra, come on- you have to wake up now-" he began, his shaky hand making its way to her shoulder to shake her softly. The sister was limp and only moved softly from his violent shaking.

Her head was pressed against the airbag, her blood crimson red compared to the white of the bag. He could hear the insane amount of blood gushing from her and onto the pedals below her which made him almost heave. With one final push on her shoulder, her head fell toward his direction and her blonde hair fell down from her face, exposing the horror before him.

Her face, her beautiful face, untouched one side and her skull caved in on the other. The brain matter that ran down her face, her eye that was almost bulging out from her socket. The inside of her skull was empty, the rest of her brain had slipped out and fallen down her shoulder and torso. Her mouth hung agape, her other intact eye half lidded but her iris still enlarged in the shock she endured before the crash. Her torso was also caved in but her ribs poked out through her skin, exposing her vital organs through her blood soaked, cotton tank top.

Toby could only scream as he scrambled back into the passenger seat, desperately trying to get away from his sister. His hands grabbed helplessly at anything that could push him further away from Lyra, his fingers grazing the glass beneath him and slicing his skin open. His screaming was interrupted by the sudden urge to vomit as he clamped a hand over his mouth in a desperate attempt to stop the flow of acid, although it were already spewing past his blood fingertips. Choking and spluttering on the warmth of his vomit, he hacked up and spat out the rest of the taste that remained in his mouth before clutching a handful of his clothing within the fist of his hand.

"No, no, no, please, Lyra, no-" he sobbed helplessly against hitched breaths, trying to make sense of this nightmare. That perhaps this wasn't real, it couldn't be because how could he live without her? So, slowly, plucking up any courage he could find, he crept back toward Lyra and gently caressed her cheek. She was still warm. "Stop messing, Lyra, you can- you can- can- can get up now! Wake up! Wake the fuck up!" he was yelling at the corpse, shaking her violently before collapsing onto her lap. He didn't care about the blood nor brain, he wanted her to hug him again.

Toby cried into her lap, taking her arm and forcing it around him as he cuddled her corpse. Laying there for hours until a passer-by came across them.

-

Alright, you guys have the feels?! Now, back to the ask. After this traumatic event, how would Toby feeling seeing someone that looked like Lyra? And, oof, punch in the gut, this person also having the exact same personality? Yikes.

At first, he wouldn't believe it. He would either think its an hallucination or that he's dreaming because he knows that she is dead, shit, he saw it himself. Honestly, at first I think he'd be a little angry because it's like all that grief and trauma came and just slapped him right there and then.

He'd accuse this person and lash out, saying things like. "You think this is funny?!" "What are you doing?!" Just really bitter and mean, mostly a mechanism to try and cope really. He'll think this is a whole ploy to try and trick him or something.

There'd also be a part of him that really craves being embraced by this person too, like he wants to caress their cheek and touch their hair. Like he genuinely cannot believe that this is real.

Then once that anger has simmered down, he'd bite back the tears. Stepping away and going nonverbal, disappearing for a couple months to try and 'forget.' He'd cry like a little bitch too, calling himself stupid for leaving in the first place.

Then he'd come back, either really dissociated or really attached to this person. He'd crave their attention, despite it being so bittersweet and he'll be angry if this person says something that Lyra wouldn't say, you know?

NOW

If we are talking about a VICTIM HE WAS SUPPOSED TO KILL LOOKING LIKE LYRA- shit, that's a different story.

At first he'd hesitated, the hatchet motionless above his head, mid-swing as she stares down at the girl before him. Crying, sobbing and he would literally stop working. He wouldn't know what to do, he would freeze and just stand there staring at her in disbelief. Then he'd drop the hatchet with a loud clutter and fall to his knees before the girl, his shoulders and body shaking as muffled sobs begin to emerge from him.

This girl, who nearly just fucking died, could do two things. Knock him the fuck out or comfort him thinking that maybe it would spare her life. I think depending on what she does, if she were to comfort him, Toby would probably either push her away or embrace her touch and cry into her lap. If she were to attempt to knock him out, I think it would stir him a little back to life and he'd quickly just jump into action in an attempt to control himself and the situation.

Now obviously, he will NOT murder her. No, he couldn't - so he grabs his things and leave. Which is so, so, so bad and could get him into so much shit with Slender but I think in that moment, he doesn't care.

[suzukiblu]

WIP guessing game: help

"I know about Billy, Marvel," Batman says, and Billy . . . blinks.

"You know?!" he sputters. Okay, so apparently his secret identity was just . . . literally never a secret at all, then. Which, well–Batman, so that just figures, really. So actually this is kind of a relief and might even mean that he's fine with–

"Yes," Batman confirms with a nod. "So I understand your current reservations about parenthood."

. . . wait what.

"Huh?" Billy says, blinking stupidly at him.

"I don't know how much of you is still C.C. Batson or what you do or don't remember about being him," Batman says. "But the resemblance is undeniable, if nothing else. Certainly your and your wife's deaths were . . . well, suspicious. And you're hardly the first archeologists to dig up a god or six."

Oh, okay. Well.

This is apparently what Billy gets for his personal mental image of a "hero" being his dad, then, isn't it.

Crap.

"To be honest I've been looking for Billy for a while now, I just didn't want to bring it up before I found him," Batman admits, looking dissatisfied with himself. "My most recent reliable intel puts him in Fawcett City, but I assume you're aware of that, given your evident attachment to the place."

"You're looking for Billy?" Billy asks incredulously. "Why?"

"Because he's your son," Batman says. "And because he's a homeless child who's been abused and neglected and needs help. I honestly don't know where you go when you're not being Captain Marvel–frankly I'm not sure if you even exist when you're not being Captain Marvel, given what little I actually know about your powers and your death and your role as the Champion of Magic and just how damn impossible you are to find when you're off-duty–but I'm assuming that wherever it happens to be is not necessarily conducive to providing a stable home environment and being legally dead certainly can't be helping with that, so my original intention was to find the boy and help you arrange some manner of care for and visitation with him. And given the revelation of your relation to Robin, well . . . I'd like to take Billy in myself, if you'd both be comfortable with that. It seems . . . appropriate, under the circumstances."

"You want to foster Billy because I'm Robin's soulmate?" Billy says, absolutely positive that he's misunderstood literally every single word that just came out of Batman's mouth. There is no possible way that he did not.

"It's not exactly out of my wheelhouse," Batman replies wryly. "Although I'll be keeping this one out of the tights, ideally. Though I make no long-term promises about that because quite frankly at this point I'm spoiled for soulmates who insist on wearing capes and I wouldn't really be surprised to turn up another one, especially given that Robin is yours and your own involvement in the superhero community."

Billy stares at him.

"Wait, are all the Gotham vigilantes your soulkids?" he blurts unthinkingly.

"Not all," Batman says. "But, well . . . probably more of them than you'd expect."

"Oh my god," Billy says in disbelief. "And you're just telling me that?! You don't tell people things, you're Batman!"

"I haven't always been the father I should have been," Batman says, and then he pulls down his cowl. Billy chokes, and then chokes again because apparently Batman is Bruce freaking Wayne and his brain just . . . just needs a moment to process that fact, like there is literally any way whatsoever that he could ever actually process that fact. He would've been less surprised to see a Kardashian under that mask, he's pretty sure. At least they've got athletes in the family, technically! "So I'm not going to make things difficult for you with Robin. Clearly he needs more than I'm capable of providing, and I'm perfectly willing to be transparent and to co-parent with you as much as possible. I want Robin to be safe and content and grow up well, and frankly put, Batson, you've proven yourself to be a good man time and again and I trust you to do what's best by our son."

Okay, well, now Billy just feels like dirt.

"You do know what happened to Billy, don't you?" he asks just a little bit desperately, because there is literally no way that this conversation is a real and actual thing that's really and actually happening. "Like, just–everything that happened there? There's a reason he's not in school or the system or with a relative or anything like that."

"What happened to Billy wasn't your fault," Batman tells him, meeting his eyes all quiet and intent and sincere. "And I will do everything in my power to help you make it right."

"Oh no, you're actually like . . . just genuinely a really good person, aren't you," Billy says despairingly, staring at him all over again and really, really wishing he could swear right now.

Maybe he'll just go throw himself into the sun. Maybe that's what he'll just go and do.

The corner of Batman's mouth quirks up wryly. His eyes even crinkle a little, which Billy can see on account of his total lack of cowl right now, oh god.

Billy despairs.

"I mean it," Batman says gently. "It wasn't your fault, and it doesn't mean you can't be a good father now."

"I need to talk to Robin," Billy says, because he definitely, definitely needs to talk to Robin. Batman inclines his head in an accepting nod, because Batman is probably under the impression that Billy wants to go give Robin a good ol' traditional "I know I'm not your biodad but I'm here for you, champ!" kind of speech, and Billy just . . . really cannot explain the real situation to him right now. Or ever.

Can he just lie to Batman for the rest of their lives, maybe? He can just pretend to be his own dad for the Justice League and keep dodging whatever Bat-surveillance happens to be in Fawcett and parent his older-than-he-is soulmate, right? That's a thing that he can do?

That's probably not a thing that he can do.

Although he might be willing to try, at this point.

[1shortnsweet]

Behind Closed Doors ~ JJ Maybank x reader (hurt comfort)

Warnings- swearing, parental abuse, kind of graphic description? mentions of blood and bruises, use of y/n, hurt comfort trope.

Summary- You and JJ didn’t get along. Everyone knew it. But when you find yourself in a painful situation, he’s the only one who’s there to help you.

Disclaimer- This is an old one I wrote from a request on AO3, so it’s not the best writing. Also not proofread. Enjoy what you can out of it!

: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:

Every night in the Outer Bank since you had moved here six years ago has gone differently. One night, your best friends wanted to throw a kegger, the next you couldn’t leave the house due to your far too noticeable bruising from your “beloved” father. Tonight was that second option.

You and JJ didn’t always get along as well as the rest of the friend group, but you both tolerated each other and that was all that mattered. Sure, you still bickered, but your friends loved you both, so you and JJ had to be civil. A few times he had noticed your absence, or the fact that you wore sweatshirts and cardigans in summer heat, but never asked you about it figuring you were just some freak. He once walked in on you crying over your father’s words, but you convinced him it was about a boy so you didn’t have to explain your home life.

“Why are you wearing a cardigan, it is seventy-four degrees outside y/n,” JJ barked at you from the front porch as he sprawled across the couch. You may not have gotten along with him, but it didn’t mean you couldn’t find him insanely attractive.

“Fuck off Maybank my house was cold,” you replied trying to cover the darkening bruises on your wrists from the fresh fight with your father and that morning.

None of your friends knew how your father was. They were never allowed at your house and you made sure to keep your distance most of the time if you had bruises. He was a well known businessman with a big reputation. Everyone who saw your family from the outside thought you were perfect, without a worry in the world. That obviously wasn’t the case within the walls of your house. Tonight, Sarah begged you to come over so she wasn’t the only girl. You reluctantly agreed, making sure that cardigan would cover the darkening bruise on your wrist. All five of you gathered in the backyard. John B made a bonfire and everyone was happy and smiling.

As the night went on, you lost track of time with your best friends. Next thing you knew, your phone was ringing beyond belief and your father’s name lit up the screen. The pit in your stomach had grown four times bigger almost immediately, knowing what was coming on the other end of the phone. Hesitantly, you picked it up, while also standing up and slowly walking away from your friends in hopes they wouldn’t hear. Although, JJ noticed the hesitancy in your actions and watched you move away from the group.

“Where the fuck are you y/n? It is ten pm and this house is not fucking clean, dinner was not made and your curfew is nine. Your mother would be so disappointed in you. I have done everything in my god damn power to please you and give you a good life. But this is how you treat me, like some sack of shit on the side of the road? Get your ass home now or there will be serious consequences.”

You winced at the tone of his voice, not being able to get a single word in. You knew what was coming for you at the other end of this argument. You slowly trudged back over to your smiling and laughing friends, seeing Sarah and Pope chasing each other with beers in hand.

“Hey guys, uh my Dad needs me home early tonight. Something about a party he’s throwing tomorrow, just needs some help setting up. See you guys tomorrow?” You had perfected the art of a good lie, convincing all four of them you’d see them in less than twenty four hours. Thankfully, they were heading to a party soon, so you wouldn’t have to worry about them following you.

You started the ten minute walk back home, praying to god he had passed out drunk by the time you walked in. It had started raining, leaving you soaked in a heavy cardigan, and your sopping converse. Hesitantly, you walked up to the front door and walked into your humble abode.

To no surprise, your father was passed out drunk leaning over the kitchen table with a vodka bottle in hand. Slowly and quietly, you tried to make it past him to reach the stairs to your bedroom. Just as you were about to head up, a rough grip pressed against your already sore wrist.

“Where the fuck do you think you’re going?” Your father said as he slowly stood up, towering over your already terrified figure. Within seconds, his free hand had balled into a fist and punched you so hard in the stomach, you fell and doubled over in pain on the tile floor. Followed by a kick to the gut, and his left fist pounding into your face too many times to count. You could taste and feel the blood in your mouth, seeing it drip from your nose and onto your clothes. He was yelling obscenities at you between hits, calling you a disappointment, reminding you of your dead mother and taking jabs at your friends. When you tried to get up and run upstairs, he grabbed the collar of your cardigan and yanked you backwards, resulting in you hitting your head on the refrigerator. This was the worst he had ever been, and you weren’t sure how much more you could take. Your father finally gave up when you stopped fighting back, leaving you to lay in your own blood on the floor.

After what felt like an eternity of you laying on the cold, hard floor trying to catch your breath, you moved. Without knowing what else to do, you bolted out the front door and headed back towards the chateau, knowing they all went to the pogue party miles away. You just needed to get away from that house, no matter where you ended up. It was now pouring, and you were limping from the pain, not even realizing tears were also streaming down your cheeks. Within minutes, you slowly walked up the front steps and into the chateau, closing the screen door behind you. Seeing as the house was dark and no cars were out front, you laid your back against the wall and tried to catch your breath before you were startled by a familiar voice.

“Why are you back, miss me too much?” You instantly recognized the voice as JJ’s, turning to see his silhouette on the pullout couch. Pulling yourself together just enough you mustered a weak reply.

“In your dreams Maybank,” you said, your voice cracking while saying his name. He was slowly standing up from his position on the couch, when he moved just slightly so the moonlight from the storm outside illuminated your face just enough for him to see.

“Holy fuck, what happened to your face y/n?” He said as he moved closer to you, flipping the lamp on as he passed it. He looked you up and down in worry, trying to figure out where all the blood on your sleeves and collar had come from. You had never seen JJ so concerned, as usually he was making fun of your outfit or starting a prank war.

“Y/n who did this?” JJ asked again, praying you would let him in. It was him asking those words that made your heart sting. Tears welled up in your eyes and he saw how afraid you looked in that moment. He lightly grabbed your hand and walked you to the bathroom down the hallway. JJ lifted you up as gentle as he could, causing you to wince at his touch against your bruising hips. He set you on the countertop and left the room to retrieve the first aid kit in John B’s bedroom.

“You wanna tell me what the hell happened or do you wanna sit in silence? This might sting a little by the way,” JJ said as he pressed the washcloth to the bleeding cut on your forehead. You slightly winced from the pain and pulled back. You looked into his soft eyes already looking back at you, and the tears welled up again. You finally let them fall from your eyes, feeling the urge to tell someone, anyone what was going on. You knew about JJ’s dad and what he did, so you didn’t want to pour your problems onto him, but it all came flowing out of you. Tears were falling, your heart was racing and your breath hitched.

“It was my father. It’s usually never this bad but he was drunk and lost his shit on me today for not being home on time and then dinner wasn’t made, and he got drunk. I didn’t know where else to go and I couldn’t stay at my house, I was too afraid,” you spewed as JJ tried to patch you up and wipe the blood from your face. He stared at you in horror, trying to get you to calm down before you hurt yourself even more.

“Y/n hey chill. Hey stop, listen to me okay? I’ve got you alright? He’s not here. It’s just us. He’s not gonna get to you anymore. I know how this goes more than anyone. Just let me clean you up and we’ll go from there okay?”

You nodded at him, sniffling and catching your breath. JJ finished cleaning the blood from your body and left the bathroom. You got down from the counter and looked at yourself in the mirror, seeing your black eye already forming and the cuts from your father’s ring down your cheek. JJ came back with one of his t-shirts and a pair of your sweatpants you left at the chateau last week. He helped you change into them and you walked behind him to the spare bedroom. You crawled into the bed, grimacing at the soreness already flowing through your body. JJ covers you in the blanket, and started to head for the bedroom door.

“JJ?” Your voice sounded weak as you said his name from the bed. He turned back to look at you with sad eyes. “Can you stay?”

He nodded and closed the door behind him. Silently, he crawled into the bed beside you and turned to look at your bruising face in the moonlight. You both just sat there in silence, some kind of unspoken understanding between the two of you. After what felt like an eternity, you drifted off to sleep with the rain still coming down outside the window.

Hours later, you woke up in an unfamiliar, warm embrace. Turning your head, you realized you were wrapped up in JJ’s arms under the blankets. His sandy hair was messy from the pillow and his skin was being illuminated from the sunlight through the window. You two may have fought almost daily, but something about this was comforting. Slowly, he opened his bright blue eyes and looked down at you.

“Why did you help me? You don’t even like me, JJ,” You asked him, as you untangled yourselves and he stood up from the bed. He walked out into the kitchen where you could see Pope passed out on the couch from the doorway. You were truly pondering this question, given that JJ has never voluntarily spent time with you before.

“Boys pick on the girls they like, y/n. Besides, no one was ever there for me when I needed it. It sucked. Put this on your face, you look like shit,”he replied as he threw an ice pack at you from the doorway. He watched you place it over your eye, wincing from the pressure on your bruise. You smiled slightly at him, unlocking some new level of comfort between the two of you. He smiled back and walked out of the room. Shit, maybe you liked him too. You didn’t even realize he had walked back into the room before he spoke.

“Your secrets safe with me y/n. Just don’t tell anyone I like you,” he said smirking at you from the foot of the bed. You threw the pillow behind your head at him, even though it hurt to move that much at once.

You knew he would keep your secret, and you also knew JJ Maybank had a secret crush on you. Both things could work to your advantage.

[baiwu-jinji]

I received a very thoughtful anon ask about Qi Rong and in the process of doing research for the ask, I came across a meta about Qi Rong on the Chinese website Zhihu that I absolutely loved, so I translated the meta into English - anon I will answer your ask ASAP, in the meantime I hope you're interested in this excellent meta:

I think Qi Rong's feelings for Xie Lian isn't that of a fan for his idol, but that of a child for an imaginary "father". So he wouldn't try to understand and study XL's character like Hua Cheng; he's only looking up to this "father figure".

This isn't a baseless conjecture - the relationship between father and son has always been a topic that can't be averted when it comes to Qi Rong. I'm guessing that when he was bullied and excluded by other kids in his childhood, it didn't occur to Qi Rong to hate the circumstances of his family; instead he wished for his father to stand up for him and help him teach those nasty kids a lesson. This wish had always existed in Qi Rong's heart and became a traumatising shadow of his childhood.

Whereas his cousin, the prince Xie Lian, who suddenly appeared in his life to help him, was unconsciously used by Qi Rong to fit his expectation of the "father". XL did what he expected a father to do, so he placed XL in his fantasies about a father. Since his abusive and useless father doesn't cut it, then someone as gentle and strong as XL must be the standard for what a "father" is like. Subconsciously Qi Rong had this idea.

Therefore I think a lot of the dumb and horrible things that Qi Rong did for XL is only due to the anxiety that a son feels towards the indifference of the "father", so he tried to do something compensatory to win the father's attention and approval; but this didn't work out at all.

This is also why he's good to Gu Zi, because Gu Zi is just another Qi Rong - he's abused by the father but still begs for the father's love and doesn't allow others to hurt his father. It's probably because Qi Rong understands what this feels like that he'd pretend to be a seemingly decent "father" for Gu Zi.

(Here the author also points out the connection between Qi Rong and Gu Zi based on their names, which needs to be explained to English readers in more detail - Qi Rong's name "Rong," in Chinese "容", is comprised of two parts: 宀 and 谷. The latter part is "Gu" (谷) as in Gu Zi's name, and the former part 宀 stands for a house or a home - in this sense the character "Rong 容" (Qi Rong) incorprates the character "Gu 谷" (Gi Zi) and provides a "home" or "shelter" for "Gu".)

Qi Rong shows off all kinds of places to the kid that he's never been to, deliberately bigs himself up, and protects the kid at the dire moment, because all of these are what Qi Rong hoped his father would do for him. However, Xie Lian was only a kid himself; how could he answer Qi Rong's expectations for a father?

Qi Rong undoubtedly loathes his biological father, because when Qi Rong was a kid, his father was useless and crass, made a laughing stock of Qi Rong and his mother and became the reason Qi Rong was mocked by other kids. But when Qi Rong needed his father and needed him to scold those kids, his father didn't care about him at all (probably only the father could accomplish this sort of task since Qi Rong's mother was depressed and sickly; this plot is repeated later on in Feng Xin and his son).

When the entire country was being destroyed, his other "father," Xie Lian, became a laughing stock too. XL didn't manage to help him before and after his death. For Qi Rong, this is a replay of the events that happened when he was five years old; this perfect "father" proves no different from his biological father.

So fundementally Qi Rong hates Xie Lian for the same reason that he hates his biological father. He indeed projected too many wishful fantasies on XL, but I think it's more about the son's disappointment towards a "father" instead of a believer's disappointment for a "god". In fact, whether XL activated the human face disease or whether he managed to saved Xianle is of secondary importance to Qi Rong; the complaints someone could voice out loud usually aren't what he actually cares about.

Of course, Qi Rong is possessed by the idea of avenging Xianle to some degree, otherwise he wouldn't have plotted revenge with other Xianle descendants. But what Qi Rong really cared about, he only managed to speak when his soul dissipated - it's what he always wanted to say to Xie Lian and his biological father but never could: "I worship and need you so much, but you don't care about me at all". This is more the case of a son who craves the father's love and complains about it. The relationship between Qi Rong and Gu Zi is comparable to the relationship between Jun Wu and Xie Lian. At least Gu Zi received some paternal love and won't grow up to be like Qi Rong, which is nice.

(For anyone interested in reading the original Chinese, here's the link: https://www.zhihu.com/question/372905885/answer/1735047946?utm_psn=1754070720630493184&fbclid=IwAR0eSI0gya5ERovl1C1Fphv2ZjnXGuKUalA378VWcZjoCj4NiUD7Pw6BDS0)

[d0g0r0t]

can I pls have yandere Toby??? pretty please

Yandera Toby

TW:GROSS SHIT!!! Obsession, stalking, violence, sh

EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEKKKKK!!!!!!!

He's low-key so pathetic

Seeing how pretty and kind you are he couldn't help but fall... well become obsessed

Your his!.... who the fuck are they? Why aren't you with him your supposed to be with him not them!

Yea no. He's all over the place when it comes to you

He'll sneak into your house, stealing things that smell like you or remind him of you

Stealing your perfume and using that shit like Febreze. He can barely breath in his own room anymore cause he used the whole bottle, reeking the room with your smell

He steals your deodorant, shampoo, conditioner, bodywash. Just to feel a little closer to you

He takes your underwear every now and then. Over time you'll find it on your door step all... sticky and.. what the fuck is that smell?

It's gross.

He takes your worn out shirts ALOT. You always looking threw your closet trying to find that one band tee the just suddenly disappeared

He'll give them back once he has you <3

Leaving you with little hickeys and red bruises on your neck when you sleep

He loves seeing you wake up in the morning confused on why you have these marks on your throat knowing damn well you didn't go out that night

He really does like you. He sees his obsession as a simple crush when it really isnt

He's never had someone he can see romantically so it was weird when he found out he DID love you

He gets emotional. Seeing you with someone else or not by his side

It feels like your betraying him even tho you don't know he exists

He talks about you SO.MUCH

It's like that stupid "hey masky" thing but instead it's "y/n" over and over again

Tim AND Brian have both rocked his shit because he wouldn't shut up

He has so many pictures of you on his walls. Some of you sleep, some of you eating, working, brushing your teeth, bathing. It's insane how many his got of you

He stalks your socials with his victims phones, getting BEN to figure your locations and you WHOLE life story

He knows a little to much about you

"Oh! Y/n order pizza last night at 7:46pm!"

"How... how the fuck do you know that?.."

He knows all of your accounts on and social. He wants to like your stuff but he doesn't want you to know him just yet

He screenshots your stuff and favoring all your videos to the phone

His wallpaper his your face and his password his you name or birthday

His tics slowly started to form around you as well. Him randomly stuttering out your name or something about you

The moment he actually kidnaps you is when he killed everyone you know and love

He's the only one you should love and think about. Just like him!

He holds you in his bed, ropes around you wrists and ankles

He would never put you in some nasty basement your to pretty for something like that

He stares at you for hours. Watching you struggle and squirm as desperate tears stream down your face. His head and arms rested up on the bed as he just watches you

He only keeps you tied you to his bed for a little while

He may be crazy but he's not abusive and wants you to be comfortable... kinda

He never hurts you, or tries not to

The only time he'll hurt you is if you try to leave him

But let's just hope you don't do that

He keeps you locked in his room for God who knows how long

He brings you your favorite goods and drinks and overall treats you well

He knows you won't love him right away but he doesn't want you to hate him

He asks if he can touch you or do certain things

If you say yes he's praising you and thanking you. But if you say no he begs for a bit but understand after a moment

He doesn't want to hurt you, he really doesn't

The idea of you being in pain from his hands reminds him of his father and the way Lyra looked after every beating broke him

He doesn't want to see you like that

He literally BEGS you if he can kiss you. On his hands and knees "PLEASEEEEEEE"

When you do he's shaky and doesn't know where to put his hands. He gets so needy for your lips and becomes a bit aggressive

Biting your lips, shoving his tounge in your mouth. It's wild

He bites at his fingers so much just thinking about you to where he starts bleeding.

Or scratching at his skin at the thought of you with someone else

Sad

NSFW

GROSS SHIT!!!_______________________________________

Jerks off to your pictures every night no questions asked

Uses your underwear as a cum rag hints why it's so gross and sticky

He's moaning your name softly as he cums, whimpering and gripping at the sheets just thinking about how gorgeous you are

CAN NOT control himself around you

He has so little sex life he's like a 14 boy who just hit puberty and can't look at a girl in the eyes

He's tenting so bad it looks actually painful

When you catch him staring at your body he turns in a mess apologizing that he was looking at the he didn't mean it like that. And covering his boner...

The thought of YOU and HIM was like a dream that he knew would never happen.

Feeling your soft gummy walls around him is all he thought about

When ever he touches you he gets needy and wanting to touch you even more

If you two are ACTUALLY involved don't be surprised when randomly you get groped aggressively

He loves seeing you squirming and trembling under him. Soft tears streaming down your pink face as he bucks himself balls deep. Heavenly

SORRY ONCE AGAIN SHIT IS TAKING SO LONGGG

Also ik u didn't ask for NSFW I just had to 💀