#white lies that kill Black Bodies

[reasoningdaily]

Late one night several years ago, I got out of my car on a dark midtown Atlanta street when a man standing fifteen feet away pointed a gun at me and threatened to “blow my head off.” I’d been parked outside my new apartment in a racially mixed but mostly white neighborhood that I didn’t consider a high-crime area. As the man repeated the threat, I suppressed my first instinct to run and fearfully raised my hands in helpless submission. I begged the man not to shoot me, repeating over and over again, “It’s all right, it’s okay.”

The man was a uniformed police officer. As a criminal defense attorney, I knew that my survival required careful, strategic thinking. I had to stay calm. I’d just returned home from my law office in a car filled with legal papers, but I knew the officer holding the gun had not stopped me because he thought I was a young professional. Since I was a young, bearded black man dressed casually in jeans, most people would not assume I was a lawyer with a Harvard Law School degree. To the officer threatening to shoot me I looked like someone dangerous and guilty.

I had been sitting in my beat-up Honda Civic for over a quarter of an hour listening to music that could not be heard outside the vehicle. There was a Sly and the Family Stone retrospective playing on a local radio station that had so engaged me I couldn’t turn the radio off. It had been a long day at work. A neighbor must have been alarmed by the sight of a black man sitting in his car and called the police. My getting out of my car to explain to the police officer that this was my home and nothing criminal was taking place prompted him to pull his weapon.

Having drawn his weapon, the officer and his partner justified their threat of lethal force by dramatizing their fears and suspicions about me. They threw me on the back of my car, searched it illegally, and kept me on the street for fifteen humiliating minutes while neighbors gathered to view the dangerous criminal in their midst. When no crime was discovered and nothing incriminating turned up in a computerized background check on me, I was told by the two officers to consider myself lucky. While this was said as a taunt, they were right: I was lucky.

People of color in the United States, particularly young black men, are often assumed to be guilty and dangerous. In too many situations, black men are considered offenders incapable of being victims themselves. As a consequence of this country’s failure to address effectively its legacy of racial inequality, this presumption of guilt and the history that created it have significantly shaped every institution in American society, especially our criminal justice system.

At the Civil War’s end, black autonomy expanded but white supremacy remained deeply rooted. States began to look to the criminal justice system to construct policies and strategies to maintain the subordination of African-Americans. Convict leasing, the practice of “selling” the labor of state and local prisoners to private interests for state profit, used the criminal justice system to take away their political rights. State legislatures passed the Black Codes, which created new criminal offenses such as “vagrancy” and “loitering” and led to the mass arrest of black people. Then, relying on language in the Thirteenth Amendment that prohibits slavery and involuntary servitude “except as punishment for crime,” lawmakers authorized white-controlled governments to exploit the labor of African-Americans in private lease contracts or on state-owned farms.1 The legal scholar Jennifer Rae Taylor has observed:

While a black prisoner was a rarity during the slavery era (when slave masters were individually empowered to administer “discipline” to their human property), the solution to the free black population had become criminalization. In turn, the most common fate facing black convicts was to be sold into forced labor for the profit of the state.

Beginning as early as 1866 in states like Texas, Mississippi, and Georgia, convict leasing spread throughout the South and continued through the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries. Leased black convicts faced deplorable, unsafe working conditions and brutal violence when they attempted to resist or escape bondage. An 1887 report by the Hinds County, Mississippi, grand jury recorded that six months after 204 convicts were leased to a man named McDonald, twenty were dead, nineteen had escaped, and twenty-three had been returned to the penitentiary disabled, ill, and near death. The penitentiary hospital was filled with sick and dying black men whose bodies bore “marks of the most inhuman and brutal treatment…so poor and emaciated that their bones almost come through the skin.”2

The explicit use of race to codify different kinds of offenses and punishments was challenged as unconstitutional, and criminal statutes were modified to avoid direct racial references, but the enforcement of the law didn’t change. Black people were routinely charged with a wide range of “offenses,” some of which whites were never charged with. African-Americans endured these challenges and humiliations and continued to rise up from slavery by seeking education and working hard under difficult conditions, but their refusal to act like slaves seemed only to provoke and agitate their white neighbors. This tension led to an era of lynching and violence that traumatized black people for decades.

Between the Civil War and World War II, thousands of African-Americans were lynched in the United States. Lynchings were brutal public murders that were tolerated by state and federal officials. These racially motivated acts, meant to bypass legal institutions in order to intimidate entire populations, became a form of terrorism. Lynching had a profound effect on race relations in the United States and defined the geographic, political, social, and economic conditions of African-Americans in ways that are still evident today.

Of the hundreds of black people lynched after being accused of rape and murder, very few were legally convicted of a crime, and many were demonstrably innocent. In 1918, for example, after a white woman was raped in Lewiston, North Carolina, a black suspect named Peter Bazemore was lynched by a mob before an investigation revealed that the real perpetrator had been a white man wearing blackface makeup.3 Hundreds more black people were lynched based on accusations of far less serious crimes, like arson, robbery, nonsexual assault, and vagrancy, many of which would not have been punishable by death even if the defendants had been convicted in a court of law. In addition, African-Americans were frequently lynched for not conforming to social customs or racial expectations, such as speaking to white people with less respect or formality than observers believed due.4

Many African-Americans were lynched not because they had been accused of committing a crime or social infraction, but simply because they were black and present when the preferred party could not be located. In 1901, Ballie Crutchfield’s brother allegedly found a lost wallet containing $120 and kept the money. He was arrested and about to be lynched by a mob in Smith County, Tennessee, when, at the last moment, he was able to break free and escape. Thwarted in their attempt to kill him, the mob turned their attention to his sister and lynched her instead, though she was not even alleged to have been involved in the theft.

New research continues to reveal the extent of lynching in America. The extraordinary documentation compiled by Professor Monroe Work (1866–1945) at Tuskegee University has been an invaluable historical resource for scholars, as has the joint work of sociologists Stewart Tolnay and E.M. Beck. These two sources are widely viewed as the most comprehensive collections of data on the subject in America. They have uncovered over three thousand instances of lynching between the end of Reconstruction in 1877 and 1950 in the twelve states that had the most lynchings: Alabama, Arkansas, Florida, Georgia, Kentucky, Louisiana, Mississippi, North Carolina, South Carolina, Tennessee, Texas, and Virginia.

Recently, the Equal Justice Initiative (EJI) in Montgomery, Alabama—of which I am the founder and executive director—spent five years and hundreds of hours reviewing this research and other documentation, including local newspapers, historical archives, court records, interviews, and reports in African-American newspapers. Our research documented more than four thousand racial terror lynchings between 1877 and 1950 in those twelve states, eight hundred more than had been previously reported. We distinguished “racial terror lynchings” from hangings or mob violence that followed some sort of criminal trial or were committed against nonminorities. However heinous, this second category of killings was a crude form of punishment. By contrast, racial terror lynchings were directed specifically at black people, with little bearing on an actual crime; the aim was to maintain white supremacy and political and economic racial subordination.

We also distinguished terror lynchings from other racial violence and hate crimes that were prosecuted as criminal acts, although prosecution for hate crimes committed against black people was rare before World War II. The lynchings we documented were acts of terrorism because they were murders carried out with impunity—sometimes in broad daylight, as Sherrilyn Ifill explains in her important book on the subject, On the Courthouse Lawn (2007)—whose perpetrators were never held accountable. These killings were not examples of “frontier justice,” because they generally took place in communities where there was a functioning criminal justice system that was deemed too good for African-Americans. Some “public spectacle lynchings” were even attended by the entire local white population and conducted as celebratory acts of racial control and domination.

Records show that racial terror lynchings from Reconstruction until World War II had six particularly common motivations: (1) a wildly distorted fear of interracial sex; (2) as a response to casual social transgressions; (3) after allegations of serious violent crime; (4) as public spectacle, which could be precipitated by any of the allegations named above; (5) as terroristic violence against the African-American population as a whole; and (6) as retribution for sharecroppers, ministers, and other community leaders who resisted mistreatment—the last becoming common between 1915 and 1945.

Our research confirmed that many victims of terror lynchings were murdered without being accused of any crime; they were killed for minor social transgressions or for asserting basic rights. Our conversations with survivors of lynchings also confirmed how directly lynching and racial terror motivated the forced migration of millions of black Americans out of the South. Thousands of people fled north for fear that a social misstep in an encounter with a white person might provoke a mob to show up and take their lives. Parents and spouses suffered what they characterized as “near-lynchings” and sent their loved ones away in frantic, desperate acts of protection.

The decline of lynching in America coincided with the increased use of capital punishment often following accelerated, unreliable legal processes in state courts. By the end of the 1930s, court-ordered executions outpaced lynchings in the former slave states for the first time. Two thirds of those executed that decade were black, and the trend continued: as African-Americans fell to just 22 percent of the southern population between 1910 and 1950, they constituted 75 percent of those executed.

Probably the most famous attempted “legal lynching” is the case of the “Scottsboro Boys,” nine young African-Americans charged with raping two white women in Alabama in 1931. During the trial, white mobs outside the courtroom demanded the teens’ executions. Represented by incompetent lawyers, the nine were convicted by all-white, all-male juries within two days, and all but the youngest were sentenced to death. When the NAACP and others launched a national movement to challenge the cursory proceedings, the legal scholar Stephen Bright has written, “the [white] people of Scottsboro did not understand the reaction. After all, they did not lynch the accused; they gave them a trial.”5 In reality, many defendants of the era learned that the prospect of being executed rather than lynched did little to introduce fairness into the outcome.

Though northern states had abolished public executions by 1850, some in the South maintained the practice until 1938. The spectacles were more often intended to deter mob lynchings than crimes. Following Will Mack’s execution by public hanging in Brandon, Mississippi, in 1909, the Brandon News reasoned:

Public hangings are wrong, but under the circumstances, the quiet acquiescence of the people to submit to a legal trial, and their good behavior throughout, left no alternative to the board of supervisors but to grant the almost universal demand for a public execution.

Even in southern states that had outlawed public hangings much earlier, mobs often successfully demanded them.

In Sumterville, Florida, in 1902, a black man named Henry Wilson was convicted of murder in a trial that lasted just two hours and forty minutes. To mollify the mob of armed whites that filled the courtroom, the judge promised a death sentence that would be carried out by public hanging—despite state law prohibiting public executions. Even so, when the execution was set for a later date, the enraged mob threatened, “We’ll hang him before sundown, governor or no governor.” In response, Florida officials moved up the date, authorized Wilson to be hanged before the jeering mob, and congratulated themselves on having “avoided” a lynching.

‘The migration gained in momentum’; painting by Jacob Lawrence from his Migration series, 1940–1941. Credit: Museum of Modern Art, New York/© 2017 The Jacob and Gwendolyn Knight Lawrence Foundation, Seattle/Artists Rights Society (ARS), New York.

In the 1940s and 1950s, the NAACP’s Legal Defense Fund (LDF) began what would become a multidecade litigation strategy to challenge the American death penalty—which was used most actively in the South—as racially biased and unconstitutional. It won in Furman v. Georgia in 1972, when the Supreme Court struck down Georgia’s death penalty statute, holding that capital punishment still too closely resembled “self-help, vigilante justice, and lynch law” and “if any basis can be discerned for the selection of these few to be sentenced to die, it is the constitutionally impermissible basis of race.”

Southern opponents of the decision immediately decried it and set to writing new laws authorizing the death penalty. Following Furman, Mississippi Senator James O. Eastland accused the Court of “legislating” and “destroying our system of government,” while Georgia’s white supremacist lieutenant governor, Lester Maddox, called the decision “a license for anarchy, rape, and murder.” In December 1972, Florida became the first state after Furman to enact a new death penalty statute, and within two years, thirty-five states had followed suit. Proponents of Georgia’s new death penalty bill unapologetically borrowed the rhetoric of lynching, insisting, as Maddox put it:

There should be more hangings. Put more nooses on the gallows. We’ve got to make it safe on the street again…. It wouldn’t be too bad to hang some on the court house square, and let those who would plunder and destroy see.

State representative Guy Hill of Atlanta proposed a bill that would require death by hanging to take place “at or near the courthouse in the county in which the crime was committed.” Georgia state representative James H. “Sloppy” Floyd remarked, “If people commit these crimes, they ought to burn.” In 1976, in Gregg v. Georgia, the Supreme Court upheld Georgia’s new statute and thus reinstated the American death penalty, capitulating to the claim that legal executions were needed to prevent vigilante mob violence.

The new death penalty statutes continued to result in racial imbalance, and constitutional challenges persisted. In the 1987 case of McCleskey v. Kemp, the Supreme Court considered statistical evidence demonstrating that Georgia officials were more than four times as likely to impose a death sentence for the killing of a white person than a black person. Accepting the data as accurate, the Court conceded that racial disparities in sentencing “are an inevitable part of our criminal justice system” and upheld Warren McCleskey’s death sentence because he had failed to identify “a constitutionally significant risk of racial bias” in his case.

Today, large racial disparities continue in capital sentencing. African-Americans make up less than 13 percent of the national population, but nearly 42 percent of those currently on death row and 34 percent of those executed since 1976. In 96 percent of states where researchers have examined the relationship between race and the death penalty, results reveal a pattern of discrimination based on the race of the victim, the race of the defendant, or both. Meanwhile, in capital trials today the accused is often the only person of color in the courtroom and illegal racial discrimination in jury selection continues to be widespread. In Houston County, Alabama, prosecutors have excluded 80 percent of qualified African-Americans from serving as jurors in death penalty cases.

More than eight in ten American lynchings between 1889 and 1918 occurred in the South, and more than eight in ten of the more than 1,400 legal executions carried out in this country since 1976 have been in the South, where the legacy of the nation’s embrace of slavery lingers. Today death sentences are disproportionately meted out to African-Americans accused of crimes against white victims; efforts to combat racial bias and create federal protection against it in death penalty cases remain thwarted by the familiar rhetoric of states’ rights. Regional data demonstrate that the modern American death penalty has its origins in racial terror and is, in the words of Bright, the legal scholar, “a direct descendant of lynching.”

In the face of this national ignominy, there is still an astonishing failure to acknowledge, discuss, or address the history of lynching. Many of the communities where lynchings took place have gone to great lengths to erect markers and memorials to the Civil War, to the Confederacy, and to events and incidents in which local power was violently reclaimed by white people. These communities celebrate and honor the architects of racial subordination and political leaders known for their defense of white supremacy. But in these same communities there are very few, if any, significant monuments or memorials that address the history and legacy of the struggle for racial equality and of lynching in particular. Many people who live in these places today have no awareness that race relations in their histories included terror and lynching. As Ifill has argued, the absence of memorials to lynching has deepened the injury to African-Americans and left the rest of the nation ignorant of this central part of our history.

The Civil Rights Act of 1964, arguably the signal legal achievement of the civil rights movement, contained provisions designed to eliminate discrimination in voting, education, and employment, but did not address racial bias in criminal justice. Though it was the most insidious engine of the subordination of black people throughout the era of racial terror and its aftermath, the criminal justice system remains the institution in American life least affected by the civil rights movement. Mass incarceration in America today stands as a continuation of past abuses, still limiting opportunities for our nation’s most vulnerable citizens.

We can’t change our past, but we can acknowledge it and better shape our future. The United States is not the only country with a violent history of oppression. Many nations have been burdened by legacies of racial domination, foreign occupation, or tribal conflict resulting in pervasive human rights abuses or genocide. The commitment to truth and reconciliation in South Africa was critical to that nation’s recovery. Rwanda has embraced transitional justice to heal and move forward. Today in Germany, besides a number of large memorials to the Holocaust, visitors encounter markers and stones at the homes of Jewish families who were taken to the concentration camps. But in America, we barely acknowledge the history and legacy of slavery, we have done nothing to recognize the era of lynching, and only in the last few years have a few monuments to the Confederacy been removed in the South.

The crucial question concerning capital punishment is not whether people deserve to die for the crimes they commit but rather whether we deserve to kill. Given the racial disparities that still exist in this country, we should eliminate the death penalty and expressly identify our history of lynching as a basis for its abolition. Confronting implicit bias in police departments should be seen as essential in twenty-first-century policing.

What threatened to kill me on the streets of Atlanta when I was a young attorney wasn’t just a misguided police officer with a gun, it was the force of America’s history of racial injustice and the presumption of guilt it created. In America, no child should be born with a presumption of guilt, burdened with expectations of failure and dangerousness because of the color of her or his skin or a parent’s poverty. Black people in this nation should be afforded the same protection, safety, and opportunity to thrive as anyone else. But that won’t happen until we look squarely at our history and commit to engaging the past that continues to haunt us.

Bryan Stevenson is the Executive Director of the Equal Justice Initiative and the author of “Just Mercy: A Story of Justice and Redemption.” This essay is drawn from the collection “Policing the Black Man: Arrest, Prosecution, and Imprisonment,” edited and with an introduction by Angela J. Davis, which will be published in July by Pantheon.


[writerfromthestars]

DP X DC PROMT: JASON IS CHOSEN TO RAISE DANNY

Danny's core was broken, shattered and almost irreparable. The damage would take decades to heal in his teenage body, seeing as it didn't have much room to grow or mutate to adult size. The only option is to de-age him and let him rebuild his ghost core naturally.

The issue with this is that he can't be in the infinite realms while he does so if he wants to conserve his halfa status. Too much ectoplasm at once would overload the kids body and kill him, while to little would ensure that he developed just a little to liminal to be ordinary, but not liminal enough to be considered a halfa.

The obvious solution? Send the kid to a location on earth so steeped in ectoplasm that he will have no problem filtering it form his surroundings, even with a broken core. The issue with this? The only place to match this criteria is either the compound of a psycho assassin demon king, or Gotham city. Obviously, they're not sending Danny to this League of Assassins, leaving Gotham. The issue lies in the fact that Gotham has a huge amount of ectoplasm, but it's been so corrupted over the years that unless a liminal is born there, the sudden overload of rotten ectoplasm is enough to put most limimals down for the count for at least a couple years.

The solution? A halfa guardian. The only issue is finding one. Clockwork refuses to let Vlad take custody of Danny, Dani is too young, and Dan too volatile. Luckily for them, there is a halfa currently residing in Gotham City, specifically, the Red Hood, the Avenger of Spirits, a moniker granted to him by the many people who died in Gotham that he, well, avenged.

He fits all the criteria for a guardian. He can keep the de-aged Danny safe because he's Red Hood, no one in the infinite realms can argue with the placement because he is also a halfa, he is Jason Todd, the son of a billionaire, and can teach Danny how to win people over, not to mention the fact that he is a crime lord, and can teach Danny how to run a, well, not quite a kingdom, but close enough.

Danny is de-aged, losing his memories of anything after about the age of two years. Jason wakes up one morning to a toddler on his doorstep with black hair with a white streak and Lazarus green eyes, tucked into a fluffy red blanket with a stuffed ghost plushie and a letter.

The letter essentially says:

Jason, you are the best option to raise him. His name is Danny.

Jason, quite understandably, freaks out.

[shhuuga]

I love how we as a society established that nanami would give the most slobbery, toe curling, eye rolling,hair straightening head ever.

Bless us with a nanami fic perchance?

u had me a nanami girl.. that's my baby dad fr

BE HOME @ SIX.

🍬 ?? [ nanami x black!fem!wife!reader ]

🍬 .. [ you send nanami a dirty text at work and face the reprocussions, head until u cry <3 ]

🍬 !! [ crying kynk, pleasure dom! nanami (we been knew) ]

nanami's cock strained against his pants. what were you doing? you knew he was at work, you knew that! so why in the world was he staring at a picture of your naked tits in the illuminated mirror of your bathroom?? and why on earth would you have to put that little pout on your face like he was in the wrong?

nanami had too many questions and not enough answers, but he knew one thing for sure. he was not gonna be late.

♡ nami : Be home @ six.

the door clicks shut and nanami doesn't bother calling out to you because you're probably somewhere hiding from him and he knows that. he checks the bedroom, nope. bathroom? not there either. finally, he decides to stop beating around the bush and step into his home office, where you're sitting on his desk with nothing but a pair of snow white stockings on.

"you look.." kento starts removing his tie and jacket, sauntering across the room before dropping to his knees in from of you. "fucking beautiful."

he takes one leg over his shoulder, caressing your thigh all the way to your ankle with his mouth before giving you love bites the rest of the way up your leg. he stops just short of your glistening cunt, his cool breath blowing onto your warm clit.

the hand on your thigh moves to your boob, squeezing and massaging as the other joins. he takes both his hands and pulls your nipples, rolling them in his fingers. with both thighs on his shoulders, nanami connects his mouth to your clit, immediately rolling it in his tongue.

nanami is an expert with head. roll, suck, c-o-c-o-n-u-t and etcetera. he spits with pinpoint precision on your pussy just to rub his nose and mouth all over you too collect it back into his mouth. he looks up at you through his blond lashes, curling your clit in his tongue with a smile on his face like he isn't damn near killing you right now.

your chest heaves as you nudge his head away from your pussy, broken cries of his name fall from your mouth upon deaf ears. instead of listening to your pleas, nanami lies you on your back, holding your neck with one hand while massaging your body with the other, his mouth bringing pain and pleasure to your brain like little fireworks.

even when you exclaim that you can't take it anymore, even when you squirt all over his work shirt, even when his glasses are well wet and steamed and his hair is messy from being pulled every which way by you, he doesn't stop. your little scandalous picture got you 2 hours and nearly 10 orgasms worth of punishment and yet, nanami has a feeling this will happen again.

written by @shhuuga [08/25/24] all rights reserved. do not copy, steal or translate my writing.

[gyupinkys]

LIKE CRAZY

PARK SEONGHWA X READER

WC: 7.4K

WARNINGS: MURDER, YANDERE, VIOLENCE, DOMESTIC ABUSE, GORE, KIDNAPPING, DRUGGING, SMUT, power imbalance, questionable morals, unprotected sex, rough sex, heavy talks of breeding, creampie, oral, guided masturbation, possessiveness, very inaccurate medical terms idk what i'm talking about, lots of dirty talk, seonghwa is actually crazy...

Synopsis: Park Seonghwa, 25, charged with 10 Counts of second degree murder, acquitted of all charges by reason of insanity. You find his story hard to believe, seeing through his lies. As a new psychiatrist you're not sure you're ready for the anomaly you're tasked to treat

A/N: Thank you guys so much for all the support!!! I love this fic <3

You love your job, you really do but moments like this make you question why you’re here. As you stand in the bathroom of your office cleaning the mashed potatoes your patient threw at you in a manic rage off your face, you question why you do this. As a psychiatrist you pride yourself in your patience, but you can't help but stomp your foot in a mini tantrum. You spent so long doing your makeup this morning and it’s all going to waste. You throw the final wipe in the trash and stare at your reflection. The bags under your eyes are much more prominent than a few days ago. You’ve been up all night trying to prepare yourself for your new patient coming today. Park Seonghwa, 25, acquitted of all charges by reason of insanity. He claims a “demon” took over his body, subsequently leading him to murdering 15 people across a 1 month killing spree. You don’t buy it. Something about this guy is off and the state made it your job to find out why. Your phone ringing snaps you out of your thoughts.

“Doctor L/N, the patient has arrived, we are transporting him to his room.”

“I’ll be right there.” 

You take a deep breath and walk across the hospital to his room. You expect to hear shuffling and yelling but the room is eerily quiet. The guards in front of the door step aside and let you into the room, keeping a close eye on Seonghwa. 

“Hello Mr.Park, I’m Dr. Y/N L/N, and I will be treating you for your stay here.” you smile at him., surprised by his appearance. 

“Hello, Y/N.” he says, staring up at you from his place on his bed.

His curly black hair and plump lips suit him so well. 

“I hope you adjust well, we’ve been anticipating your arrival. Breakfast begins at 8, so you are expected to be up and ready before then. Lunch is at 2 and dinner is at 7. Your therapy time with me is at 4 Mondays, Wednesday’s, and Fridays. Sounds good?”

“Sounds great” he says with a smile, showcasing his pearly white teeth. 

“I look forward to working with you. My job is to take care of you and I promise to do that.” you smile.

You take a second to look at him, watching the dead look in his eyes. His smile says one thing but his eyes say another. With one last smile you leave the room, almost certain he’ll be causing problems before the night is over. 

_________________________

You come in the next morning and check in with the nurses. Surprisingly there were no issues from Seonghwa, he even took his medication with no complaints. Maybe you had the wrong idea about him. You meet with several of your other patients, thankfully avoiding potatoes in your face again. It's 3pm when you take a break, looking outside your office window. You see him sitting at the edge of the courtyard, eyes fixed up at the sky. Four guards surround him out of precaution, but he seems completely unphased, eyes staring at the clear blue sky.  For someone capable of such evil things he’s beautiful. His curly hair has grown quite long during his time in prison awaiting his trial. His eyes are wide and bright holding so many secrets.  As if he can feel your eyes on him he looks up, directly into your office window somehow making eye contact with you. Your eyes widen and you quickly look away, pretending you weren't staring at him. It’s not uncommon for new patients to stick to themselves, often untrusting of the new environment. You can only hope Seonghwa will begin to trust you so you can treat him, if not you’re not sure what his future might hold.   

_________________________

He is brought to your office at 4 on the dot, accompanied by the four guards assigned to him. He looks rather scared, the new environment keeping him on his toes. You welcome  him with a wide smile that he doesn't return, instead staring straight at your shoes. 

“Hello, Seonghwa.” 

“Hi.” he responds quietly, reminding you of a scared child. You find it in your heart to feel sorry for him. 

“How are you adjusting?”

He shrugs in response, eyes still on the floor. 

“Can you look at me?”

He shakes his head no. 

“Ok, that's fine. I know it’s scary here, I’d also hate to be constantly monitored, but we just want to make sure you’re safe.”

He keeps quiet so you continue. 

“Tell me, do you like the food here?” 

No response. 

“I’ve only tried some of the patient food, well besides when it gets thrown at me. Last week Sandy with the weird haircut threw her potatoes right in my face, I looked like Ms.Doubtfire in that one scene.” you say with a laugh, gauging his reaction. He smirks but remains silent, you decide it might be best if you keep talking in hopes of making him comfortable. 

“I’ve only been working here for about 5 months. I can’t say I’m settled completely. Some patients don’t seem to like me very much, hence the mashed potatoes. But I don’t let that discourage me, I mean if I was in their shoes I wouldn’t want some random lady talking my ear off. Well, I guess that’s what I’m doing now, I’ll shut up.”

He looks up at you with a wide smile, showcasing his perfect teeth. “Don’t stop," he says gently.

“I don’t think you know what you’re getting yourself into here, I can talk for hours.” you say with a light laugh. 

His eyes widen a bit, he looks at you as if he’s psychoanalyzing you, the roles seemingly reversed. You squirm under his intense stare, deciding to just start talking. 

“How about this? If I tell you one thing about me, you tell me one thing about you?”

“Deal.” he says much quicker than you anticipate making you laugh. You hear his breath hitch, concerned you did something wrong. 

“Are you ok?” 

“I’m fine. Start talking.” 

“Ok, Ok. Hmmmm, Oh how about this, I haven’t finished paying off my student debt.”

“I could pay it off,” he says seriously. 

“I appreciate the offer, but I’m sure that violates many rules.”

“I’m not one to worry about rules.” he says with a smile, making your own fall. He quickly reacts, trying to soothe the situation. “That was a joke, I’m joking.” 

“Noted.” you say hesitantly. “Your turn.” 

“I miss my cat.” he says, sadly.

“You have a cat?” you ask in surprise. “I love cats, I have two.”

“Can I see?” he asks, scooching to the front of his seat, making the guards jump hold him back. 

“You guys can relax.” you say and they let go of him.

You grab your phone from your desk, missing the way his eyes drop to your ass. 

“They're named Brad and Chad. And yes I know those are weird names for cats.” you show him the pictures of your cats, seeing his body visibly relax. 

“What’s your cat's name?”  

“Matz.”

“Boy or girl?”

“Girl. I think my friend Hongjoong has her but I’m not sure.” 

“If you give me his last name I can try to find out for you.” you say with a smile.

He leans forward again in excitement. “You’d do that for me?”

“Of course, I know It’ll give you peace of mind.”

“Kim, his last name is Kim.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Kim Hongjoong has Matz and says you raised a very disrespectful cat.” you say and slide into the chair across from him in the cafeteria. 

He looks a bit shocked at your presence but he gives you a wide smile when he registers what you said. 

“She was born like that, I had no part in her sassiness.” he laughs. 

“Did he say anything else?”

“He said,  “Don't forget to look at the sky.” and stopped responding after that so do with it as you will.”

“I really appreciate it.” he says and grabs your hand, making the security guards restrain him. 

“It’s ok, let him go.” you sigh, understanding the guard’s worry, but also feeling sympathetic for Seonghwa. 

“I’ll see you around, Seonghwa.”

“Call me Hwa.” he smiles. 

_________________________

Seonghwa has made great progress, now only being followed around by two guards as opposed to four. He’s been much more responsive with you and willing to let you into his mind, but he refuses to talk about the murders. Whenever you attempt to touch on the subject he locks up and asks to leave. You think he needs more time to accept and confront his past. You know prying too much will only erase his progress. You’ve learned so much about him and he’s learned so much about you. He’s so attentive to every word you speak, constantly bringing up small details you forgot you said. You’d be lying if you said it wasn't sweet. Today you decided to try group therapy with him, maybe if he sees someone else sharing he’d be inclined to share as well. You’re also hoping he’s able to make a friend here, since he expressed to you how lonely he’s been feeling. You can see the shock on his face when he walks into your office and see’s San sitting on the couch. He freezes in the threshold of your office, his face morphing into something you’ve never seen before. 

“Who is this?” he asks with venom.

“Hwa, this is San, he’ll be joining us today.”

“Why?”

“I think it’ll be a good change of pace. Now come on in and sit down.”

He slowly walks in, eyes never leaving San. 

“So, I was thinking of doing a joint session today. I think you two can be great friends and what better place to facilitate this friendship than here?”

“I’d rather be your friend, or more than friends if you’re interested.” San says with a smirk.

“San, don’t start.”

“If you show me your tits I’ll stop.”

“I will write you up.” you deadpan. 

He holds his hands up in defeat as you look over to Seonghwa. He’s sitting in his chair with a hard face and tense body. You want him to feel comfortable, understanding why he’s nervous. 

“Hwa, San also loves cats. Why don’t you tell him about Matz?”

“I have a cat named Matz” he whispers, eyes never leaving you.

“I used to have a cat but it died. I was thinking of getting a new one.” San says with a wide smile.

“What kind of cat is your favorite?” Seonghwa asks, seemingly interested. 

“I like cats that are nice and wet, even better if they're tight.” he says with a wide smile, showing off his dimples. “Can I take a look at your cat, Doctor?” 

Before you can respond San’s on the floor, face being beaten in by Seonghwa. 

“HOW ABOUT YOU TREAT HER WITH SOME FUCKING RESPECT.” he yells as his fist fly into San’s jaw. As the guards peel him off San and sedate him he’s staring straight at you, tears in his eyes. 

“I can’t sit here and let him talk to you like that.” he slurs as the sedative takes over his body. 

“Thank you, Hwa.” is the last thing he hears before everything fades to black.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“You did a real number on San.” you say with an awkward laugh at your next session,  trying to make him comfortable. He’s back with four guards after he broke San’s jaw two weeks ago.  He was placed in a higher security ward inorder to avoid more altercations.

“He deserved it.” he whispers with an eye roll.

“Maybe, but we don’t have to solve our problems with violence.”

“I do.”

“Well, If I upset you would you beat the shit out of me?” you ask, trying to prove your point but hoping he will say no.

He leans forward and looks directly into your eyes. “Y/N I will never hurt you. I swear on my life.” 

“That's good to hear” you say with a laugh. 

“Ok, let's begin. I want you to write three things you like here and three things you dislike. I want you to start seeing the good in the bad.”

“Not much to love in this shit hole.” he grumbles.

“Hey, At least the chicken tenders they serve on wednesdays are good.” you joke.

You hand him a piece of paper and a pen, your fingers brushing making you clear your throat. 

“Ok, go ahead.”

“You do it too.” he says with a smirk.

“How about I just write things I do like? ”

“Deal”

You write three things you like:

Chicken tenders 

The sunlight

Seonghwa

“Ok, you share first.” 

He clears his throat. 

“I like my doctor, I like the girl I meet on Monday’s, Wednesday, and Fridays, and I like Y/N.”

Your eyes widen and you can’t help but smile, feeling your cheeks tingle. “Well that's definitely something.” you say with a laugh watching his eyes light up. 

You read out your list and watch his smile widen when he hears his name. 

“Don’t let it go to your head.” you say with an eye roll.

“Oh baby, it already did.”

Your heart stops at the pet name, willing yourself to remain professional. He’s a goddamn serial killer you internally yell. 

“Ok, now read the things you don’t like.”

“I don’t like Tuesdays and Thursdays, I don’t like San, and I don’t like your boyfriend.”

You choke on the sip of water you were taking. 

“How do you know I have a boyfriend?”

“Your reaction just told me.” he says and you can see him becoming upset. 

“I don’t have a boyfriend, and frankly it’s none of your business.” you say, slightly annoyed. 

He gives you a look you’re never seen before. You hate to think it but he genuinely looks insane. You’re suddenly thankful for the guards in the room. 

“I think that’s enough for today.” you say. the guards picking him up and dragging him out of the room, his eyes never leaving yours.

You weren’t lying, you don’t have a boyfriend. Well, that’s because he doesn’t want you. All  Chris wants from you is sex, claiming he’s “too young for a relationship”

You wish you were strong enough to stick up for yourself but that’s exactly how he likes you, weak. 

As you sit at your desk you're puzzled by Seonghwa’s reaction. Sure, you've had patients crush on you in the past but they've never reacted like that when they found out about your partner. He looked almost… murderous? You write this in his file, concerned for both your safety and his. Maybe someone else should get assigned to him? No, that’ll only aggravate him more. You sigh, at a loss about this situation. 

_________________________

When you enter your office you see an envelope on the floor, presumably slid under your door. You pick it up and see it’s addressed to you.

You open it and pull out a letter.

“My dear Y/N, 

I don’t know what I was thinking yesterday. I guess I got jealous, knowing I can’t have you in the ways he has you. I can tell you guys aren’t in love. You deserve to be loved, in every sense of the word. I wish we met in different circumstances, I’d do anything to have you, to hold you, to love you. I’m sorry if I scared you. You’ve been nothing but perfect for me and I’ve done nothing but give you headaches. I’ll be better for you, I promise.

-Hwa”

Your heart softens. This is the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for you. You choose to ignore the parts where he confesses his love for you. That just complicates things. You decide to pay him a visit in his room. 

You walk to the other side of the hospital, rehearsing what you're going to say to him. You stop in your tracks outside his door, hearing moans and groans coming from the other side. Is he ok?  You press your ear to his door, only hearing more moans and whimpers. As you’re about to open it you hear him moan out your name. Oh. It doesn't take a genius to guess what he’s doing. It would be a lie if you said you weren't imagining his face right now. He’s already so pretty, he must look even better right before he comes. You bite the bullet and knock on his door.

“Hwa, can I come in?”

You hear shuffling and a meek “Come in.”

You open the door and pause. You expected him to stop but he’s sitting up on his bed with his back against the wall, cock in his hand. Your eyes stray from his face to his dick, hard and long. 

“Am I interrupting something?”

“No.”

“I’ll come back later.” 

“No.” he yells, making you stop in your tracks.

“Turn around.”

As if you were in a trance you turn around, eyes trained on his large hands wrapped around himself. 

“Can you come help me? It hurts so bad.” he whispers. “You’re my doctor aren’t you?” he smirks.

“No, this is wrong.”

“Then why are you still here? Why are your eyes on my cock rather than my face?”

“I-”

“Y/N, all I can think of when I close my eyes is you.” he says as he strokes his cock, looking into your eyes. “Your pretty eyes, your lips, your perfect fucking smile. You make it so hard to focus. I gotta come back here after every session to stroke my cock to you, I can’t help myself.”

You’re frozen in place, unsure if you’re even breathing. “Come wrap your hand around my cock, baby. Please?”

Your legs move before you can think this through, hesitantly wrapping your hand around him. He’s so big in your hands, you can only imagine how perfect he’d feel inside you. 

“I shouldn't be doing this.” you whisper to him. 

He wraps his hand around yours and guides you to begin stroking him, moaning at the sensation. “You aren’t doing anything wrong, just helping your patient.”

His breathing picks up as precum leaks from his tip onto your hand. “Baby, can I tell y-you something?”

“Yea.”

“I really wish it was your pretty little pussy wrapped around me right now.” he groans. “I’d treat you better than you could imagine, I’d have you addicted to this dick.”

“Hwa” 

“Shh, keep going. You're making me feel so good, beautiful.” he breathes out, throbbing in your hand.

“Do you do this to your other patients? Or am I special.”

“You’re special, Hwa. You know that.”

“Do you do this for that ungrateful bastard you call a boyfriend?”

You freeze, but he continues. 

“I know you don’t. If he treated you how you deserved you wouldn’t be here with me. I’d make you a queen Y/N, you don’t even have to love me back.”

You look at him in the eye, he looks fucking insane but you can’t find it in you to care. You crash your lips into his, feeling him suck in a deep breath before returning the same ferocity. The kiss is deep and nasty, nothing but tongue and teeth. You grip him harder and begin pumping him faster, desperate to see his face when you come. 

“I want you to come for me ok? I wanna see how pretty you look when you feel good.”

“Yes, yes, ok. I’m gonna come for you.”

You hear him let out one last whimper before he comes, his seed dripping down your hand. When he’s done you bring your hand up to his mouth, watching him lick his cum off your fingers. You feel yourself clench around nothing, but you know you’d have to handle your little issue at a later time. 

“So good for me, Hwa.” you smile, giving him one last peck before getting up. 

He’s laying on the bed, looking completely blissed out, a wide smile on his face. 

“I got the letter by the way. I guess flattery has gotten you pretty far.”

_________________________

You arrive home later than expected, getting caught up in some paperwork and losing track of time. When you arrive at your apartment you see none other than Chris waiting outside. 

“Where have you been?” he immediately spits, slurring his words, making you roll your eyes. 

“Why are you here?” you sigh, unlocking your door.

“What? I can’t come see you now?” he says, going to hug you, but you push him away, smelling the alcohol on his breath. 

“Thought you’d be more interested in seeing Irene.”

“Y/N, don’t be like that. You and I aren’t together.” he says, getting aggravated.

“Thank God.” you say under your breath, unsure where this confidence came from.

“Come again?”

“Nothing.”

“No. Fucking say it.” he says, getting in your face.

“Chris, just leave.”

“Youre fucking impossible, Y/N. I don’t know what you fucking want from me. You get mad when I fuck other bitches but you talk to me like this? You don’t deserve me.”

You can’t help but laugh, turning to walk into your bathroom, which makes him even more upset. 

“Whats so fucking funny?” he yells, grabbing your wrist a little too tight. 

“Don’t fucking touch me.” you spit, trying to pull your hand away, but unable to due to his tight grip. 

“You’re hurting me.” you cry as he tightens his grip and pulls you towards him. 

“Imagine how much you hurt me when you act like this? You’re a fucking bitch Y/N. Why are you acting like this? Are you fucking someone else is that it?” he’s getting angrier by the second, beginning to scare you.

“GET OFF OF ME.”

“ADMIT IT. YOU'RE WHORING YOURSELF OUT AREN’T YOU? “

You yank your hand from his grip, only to be greeted with a sharp slap across your face.

You look at him with wide eyes, shocked at his actions. He seems equally as shocked as he stares at his hand then you. 

“Sweetheart, I’m-”

“Get out before I call the cops.”

He rushes out, spewing bullshit apologies in his drunken state, but you’re having none of it. As soon as he leaves you begin to cry, the reality of what happened hitting you. You look down at your wrist, seeing his hand imprinted on your skin. You cry more, wondering how you got to this point.

_________________________

You tried your best to cover the small mark on your face, but the bruise on your hand was a no go. You just hoped the sleeves of your lab coat would cover the mark. You see multiple patients today, trying to keep up your usual happy persona but most likely failing. San is the only one who asked if you were ok, saying he “knows ways to make

You feel better.” Maybe Seonghwa needs to beat him up one more time so he can learn his lesson. Speaking og Seonghwa, you are nervous to face him after your encounter yesterday. You violated so many rules, if he were to snitch on you not only would you lose your job, but your license. You take a deep breath as the guards bring him into your office, two instead of four now due to good behavior.

He takes a seat but you’re not sure what to say. He frowns at the unusual silence, immediately asking what's wrong. 

“I’m fine, Hwa. Just having a shitty day.” you say while subconsciously rubbing your wrist, bringing attention to it. He shoots forward in his seat and grabs your arm, pulling back your sleeve and looking at your wrist. The guards immediately grab him, but you signal at them to stand down. 

“Did he do that?” Seonghwa asked, venom dripping from his voice. 

“He was drunk.” 

“That's not an excuse.”

“I know.” you sigh.

“That bastard doesn't deserve you. I hope he fucking dies.” Seonghwa spits. 

“Hwa, don’t say that.”

“I want to leave.”

You nod your head and the guards lead him back to his room. You decide to head home, hoping a night out with your friends will clear your mind.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Seonghwa’s tells himself he’s doing this for you. Everything he does is for you. No one can lay a hand on his sweet girl and think they won't experience any consequences. He’ll be damned if this fucker lives another day. He watches Chris dance and kiss other women like nothings wrong, like he didn’t put his hands on you. Seonghwa can feel the rage flowing through his body, this is the feeling he gets right before he kills. He can’t wait to see the light leave Chris’ eyes tonight. He’s eternally grateful for Hongjoong finding this fucker for him, he knows he’ll avenge you tonight. 

He waits for him near his car, watching him fumble with his keys. 

“Excuse me.” 

Chris turns around and sees Seonghwa standing next to the car parked behind his own. 

“Yes?”

“I know this sounds weird, but I’m trying to dump my couch, but I can’t get it out of my apartment by myself. Can you help me?”

“Yea sure.” 

Seonghwa couldn't help but smile, knowing what was about to happen. As soon as the pair enter Hongjoong’s old apartment, Seonghwa wastes no time and stabs Chris in the chest, watching him crumble to the floor. 

“You think you can touch my dear, Y/N and get away with it? No one is going to hurt my girl.” he spits, rage consuming him. 

Chris doesn’t get a chance to respond as Seonghwa plunges the knife into his chest, repeatedly, aiming for his heart. 

“This is how my heart felt when I saw those bruises on her.” he spits, mutilating Chris’s body. 

When his body is nothing more than a pile of flesh and blood, Seonghwa stands, changing out of his soiled clothes and exiting the apartment, leaving Chris’s body to rot. 

He pushes through the crowds of the rowdy club, searching for you. He spots you dancing with your friends, looking carefree and happy, exactly as you should be. He smiles at the sight, falling more in love with you as the seconds pass. He wants to experience everything with you, he wants to marry you, have kids with you, die with you, and he will. He’ll make you his, he’ll fill you up with his seed and watch your body grow. He’ll keep you where no one can find you, make sure you’re his forever. 

He watches you search for one of your other friends from your spot at the bar, hoping you’d make eye contact with him. When your eyes meet his heart stops. He watches your eyes widen, and confusion grow on your face. You rub your eyes to make sure you’re seeing correctly and when you open them again he’s gone. 

He walks back to the asylum elated, happy he served you justice. He passes by the security who knows better to question him and the nurses who keep their heads down and mouths shut. There's nothing money can’t buy, and the hospital staff’s silence is definitely not one of them. He changes back into his patient attire and gets into bed as if nothing happened. 

_________________________

 You’re 100% losing your mind. Either that or Seonghwa was in the same club as you last night which is impossible. You've run through every scenario you could think of and you’ve concluded whatever you feel for him is becoming too strong. You’re considering transferring him to another doctor, the guilt you have from what happened two days ago is sitting on you. That was completely unprofessional and foolish, your risked so much because you’re too fucking horny. Not only that but you took advantage of him, you're in a position of power, you should've said no. You know you wouldn't be able to treat and diagnose him properly. But you also know he’d throw a fit if he gets assigned to a new doctor. This is all too much for you to handle.

Your thoughts are interrupted by someone barging into your office. You look up and see Seonghwa, eyes widening. 

“Hwa? Why are you here?”

“I needed to see you.”

“Where are the guards?”

“Don’t worry about that.” he says and locks your office door, worrying you a bit.

“Seonghwa, you’ll get in trouble if they find out you’re here.”

“They won’t find out if you don’t tell.” he says with a smile, walking to your desk. 

“Why did you need to see me?”

“I’m sorry for how I acted yesterday. It wasn’t my place to react like that, and I know you were probably already stressed, I shouldn’t have added to that.”

“It's ok, don’t worry.”

“No, it’s not Ok. I keep saying I'll treat you right but I haven't. Let me make it up to you.”

You smile at how much he cares when it should be the other way around. 

“And how are you going to make it up?” you say with a light laugh.

“Let me eat you out.”

Your eyes widen. 

“Hwa. What happened was a one time thing. We can’t keep doing this.”

“Why?

“You know why.”

“I won’t tell anyone. No one needs to know, Baby. I love you, why would I jeopardize you?” he says, getting on his knees next to your desk chair.

“What if someone sees?”

“I’ll take care of them. With the way I’m about to have you, no one but me gets to see you.”

Your breath quickens. No way you're actually contemplating this. You watch as he turns your chair towards him and places his hands on your thighs.

“What do you say, Sweet girl?”

You nod hesitantly. He smiles up at you spreading your legs and running his hands up your skirt. He flips it up and looks at your pink panties, sucking in a deep breath. 

“Just like I imagined.”

He puts his legs on your shoulder and pulls your hips to his face, running his nose along your inner thigh. He’s breathing heavily, his grip on you tightening. He licks a long stipe up your slit over your panties, teasing you. Your hands fly to his soft curls, pulling him closer. 

“Please don’t tease”  you whisper.

He begins to kiss your cunt, practically making out with it. He’s so sloppy with it, soaking your already soaked panties more. He pulls off your panties with his teeth, shoving them in his pocket before pulling you flush to his lips. He goes straight for your clit, sucking harshly. He's moaning into your cunt, lapping at your pussy like it's the last he’lll ever eat.

“So good, Baby. You taste so fucking goof. The best I’ve ever had.”

He runs two fingers through you, wetting them before easing them inside. 

“Fucking hell, you’re gonna be the death of me.”

You can only moan in response, trying to control your volume.

“Tell me how it feels.”

“It’s so good, Hwa. Feels so good.”

“Is it better than that fucker Chris?”

“Yes, so much better.” you moan out, not having enough brain power to question how he knows chris. All you can focus on is his soft tongue running through you and his fingers hitting all the spots you need. 

Your back arches as you feel your orgasm coming. “Give it to me baby. I deserve it,I’ve been so good to you.” he speaks into your cunt, his fingers never stopping. 

You look down into his wide eyes and see so much emotion in them. He’s so fucking pretty, just the thought that this is the man eating you out makes you let go. Grabbing his hair harshly and somehow pulling him closer as you soak his face. He keeps sucking and licking your clit, slowing the pace of his fingers. When it gets too much you yank his head back, out of breath. 

“Fuck, Hwa. That definitely made it up to me.” you laugh, blissed out.

“I’m glad.” he laughs, licking his fingers clean before standing up and kissing you.

“I can make you feel even better.” he smiles, testing his luck. 

“Nice try. Can I have my panties back?”

“No can do.” he smiles, kissing you one more time before backing up, helping you put your clothes back in place. 

“I’ll see you four, Love.” he says with a wide smile.

“Actually, I need to cancel our session, something came up.” you say solemnly watching his smile drop. All the guilt from before it you once again. You can’t keep doing this. He’s you patient for fucks sake, you can’t fuck him. This is wrong on so many levels.  

“So when am I going to see you instead?”

“I’ll let you know.” you say with a frown.

“Oh, Ok. Have a nice night, Y/N.”

“You too, Hwa.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Seonghwa can feel something's off. He thought after he ate you out you’d realize you feel the same way about him. But he could tell it had the opposite effect. He tries to sleep but all that's on his mind is you. He looks at the clock on the wall, it's well past 4am, you should definitely be gone. He gets up and opens his door, seeing the guard on night duty fast asleep. He walks to your office and uses the master key he stole from the janitor to unlock the door. He walks over to your desk and scans the papers littering it. He sees a printed out email from your supervisor, listing reports made about you from other patients. Other patients claim you show him favoritism? He knows San was behind this. They claim patient reports you write for him are much more detailed and that's somehow proof of favoritism? You eating lunch with him is somehow inappropriate? He laughs at this, they really have no idea how inappropriate your relationship has gotten. He continues reading, Your supervisor claims he’s showing no improvement and has requested a new doctor for him. He can feel the anger coursing through his veins but he wills himself. He’ll be damned if they try to take you away from him. His months of planning will not go to waste. He’ll live out all his dreams with you, there's no way he won’t. 

He walks out of your office, filled with rage. He can’t believe this. He can only imagine how crushed you are. He knows you love him, even if you don’t know it. He knows you’re probably at home distraught. He owes it to you to make sure you two remain together forever.

He goes back to his room, but he still can’t sleep. He stares at the ceiling, imagining your pretty face in an attempt to calm his spirit. He’s rudely interrupted by his door opening. He looks at the clock and sees it's somehow 8am. Time flies so fast when you're on his mind. In walks another doctor he’s seen around the hospital. There's no way this happened so quickly. He can’t believe this. He sees the man speaking to him but he’s not hearing anything besides the ringing in his ears. 

“I want Y/N to be my doctor.”

“Unfortunately, she can’t. She hasn’t been making much progress with you. We're hoping a more experienced doctor like myself can help you more than she can.”

He looks at him blankly. He feels himself slipping away. His hands clench and reach under his pillow, grasping his knife as the doctor reads from his clipboard. He won’t let someone speak about you like this. He won’t let them take you away from him. He grabs the doctor's hair and slits his throat, sawing through the man's blood vessels until he falls limp. A guard runs in and attempts to wrestle the knife out of his hands but he overpowers him, plunging the knife into his chest repeatedly. Seonghwa’s fuled by blind rage, no one will stop him from avenging your honor. How dare they speak of you like this as he kills the fourth and final guard to come in. He hears alarms blaring in the distance and looks at the clock. It's 9:05 am, he can feel you on your way to him.

_________________________

The blaring of the alarms push you to run faster, entering the high security section of the hospital. The commotion from down the hall gets louder as you approach his room. You come to a halt as you see a stream of blood running down the hall, coming from beyond his door. A loud thud from inside his room breaks you from your trance,  you push open the door, seeing the bodies of guards surrounding his bed.   

“Hwa” you gasp, eyes trained on the battered bodies. “What did you do?” you breathe out, finally looking up at him. 

He looks up at you from across the room, eyes wide and bloodshot. 

“What did I do?” He laughs maniacally. “Y/N, This is your fault. I did this because of you.” he says as he begins to approach you. 

“THEY TRIED TO KEEP ME FROM YOU!” He yells. “You were supposed to take care of me. YOU PROMISED!” He traps you against the wall next to the door. “Isn’t that your job? Nurse me back to my right state of mind? Figure out what's wrong with me? But you didn’t do that. No,no, no you just made me fall in love with you, you made me want you! So don’t act like this is my fault.” he says as he lightly drags the knife across your throat.

“No ones going to keep me away from you, my love.” he whispers into your ear. He leans over and locks the door before looking back at you.

“Do you think I’m going to hurt you?”

“No.” you answer with full confidence.

He smiles at you, but it's not the same smile your Seonghwa gives you. You don’t know who this is. 

"I want my Hwa back, I don;t like you like this.”

“I am your Hwa, Baby. I did this for you Y/N. Don’t you see how much I love you?” he says, dropping the knife and kissing down your neck. 

“I know, Hwa.” you sigh heavily, feeling his cock hardening against your stomach. 

“Say you love me too. I know you do.”

Do you love him? Can you love someone who’d do this? The longer you stay quiet the more upset he gets. “It's ok baby. I’ll love you enough for the both of us.” he sighs. “One day you’ll realize how much you love me.”

He runs his hands down your body, squeezing your ass. He flips you around, pressing your chest to the wall. 

“I’m gonna fuck you so hard, Y/N. I’ll be all you think about for the rest of your life.”

He shoves your pants down and rips your panties off you, rubbing his fingers through you. “Fucking hell, you’re a filthy fucking liar. You do like me like this, look how wet you are.” he says bringing his soaking fingers in front of your face. Your breath quickens, seeing evidence of how wet you are.

“Just fuck me, Hwa.” you groan.

He pulls out his hard cock and rubs his tip through you. “I’ll make you mine, Y/N. You’ll let me cum in you right? Own this pussy”

“Yes, Hwa. Please.”

He lines himself up and slides in slowly, gripping your hips tightly at the sensation. 

“F-fuck, Baby. You feel so good, the best I’ve ever had.” he moans out. He fills you up completely, stretching you so painfully but not nicely. You savor the pain, it reminds you of  how taboo this is, how much you deserve to feel pain. Youre letting this psychopath fuck you in a room full of bodies, your colleagues blood on your body doing nothing but turning you on. You deserve to feel pain, but he turns that pain into pleasure with the first thrust. It’s like your pussy was made for him, you fit together perfectly. You can feel him in your stomach, so deep inside you, you can feel yourselves becoming one. He picks up his pace, thrusting into you harshly. 

“I’ve dreamt of this for so long. I’ve fucked my fist imagining it was this pussy. You couldn't even imagine all the nasty things I’d do to you, Bbay. I’d hurt you so bad but you’d love it, you’d beg me for more. B-beg me to make you mine.”

He pulls out quickly and flips you around, hiking you up the wall. You wrap your legs around his waist as he slides back in, fucking into you while staring into your eyes. 

“I need to see that pretty face when I breed you. I have everything planned out for us, Y/N. There's a beautiful house waiting for you, so many rooms to fill up with our beautiful babies. I know you’d be a great mother, my perfect little housewife.”

He picks up his pace, feeling you clenching around him, but desperate to come together. 

“I’d keep you full of my seed all the time, my love. You’d always feel me dripping out of you, I’d keep you nice and round with my babies for as long as I can. You want that don’t you? You wanna be my slutty little cum dump?”

You can barely answer him, let alone breathe. He’s hitting it so deep, you feel like your on another planet. You look down into his eyes and nod, mesmerized by his beautiful brown eyes. You’d let him do anything he wanted if it meant you felt like this forever. 

“Cum for me, my love. I’m going to fill you up so nicely, ok?”

You let go, clamping down on his cock and hearing his deep groan. His warm cum fills you up to the brim, leaking out of you, despite the vice-like grip your cunt has on him.

“So fucking tight and warm, baby” he blabbers, shallowly thrusting his seed back into you. He pulls you in for a kiss by your neck, claiming your mouth as his own. You pull back for air, giving him a blissed out smile. The words he so badly wants to hear hang on your tongue but you can’t give it to him yet. 

“I know, baby. You don’t have to say it, I already know.” he whispers against your lips and sets you down. 

He helps you fix your clothes and begins to pull you out of the hospital. As you see the chaos ensuing, the reality of the situation hits you. 

“Hwa, where are you taking me?”

“Hongjoong is outside we gotta go before the cops come.”

“Wait, what?” you pull back from him, stopping him in his tracks.

“Y/N, now's not the time.” he growls.

“Tell me what's going on.”

“You really think I was going to stay in this shit hole forever? Y/N, I’m not fucking crazy, I killed those people on purpose. The only reason I’m not rotting in jail is because I paid off the judge. I was planning my escape from the moment I got here but I only stayed this long because of you. So let's go.”

His words break you from your trance. This man is actually insane. You begin backing away from him but he gets visibly upset. “Y/N, don’t try this shit with me. You’re coming with me whether you like it or not.”

The dim lighting of the hallway and red lights from the alarms make him look sinister. For the first time you feel afraid of him. 

“I don’t want to go with you, Seonghwa.”

He looks at you blankly before grabbing you harshly. “

“I didn’t want to do it this way, Y/N. I wanted us to be happy, but if I have to force you to want me, so be it. He pulls out the sedative he took from one of the guards and pulls off the cap with his teeth. “You’ll be mine forever Y/N. That baby growing in your belly is proof enough.” 

He sticks the syringe into your neck, releasing the chemicals into your body. You feel the drugs immediately kick in, falling limp in his hold. 

“Hwa, please don’t.” you whimper.

He caresses your face with a pout. “Don’t worry, Baby. You’ll love me eventually, I’ll make sure of it.” 

He flashes you a wide, beautiful smile before everything fades to black.

[rehenys]

God, you're so handsome. ~ T.Wolff

TW: Implied smut, Age Gap, Smoking. Synopsis: Toto and George Russell's Sister are sneaking around.

God, he's so handsome in his vintage Merc and black Tom Ford glasses. With the sleeve of his black shirt casually rolled up, his muscular forearms catch the light. A wisp of smoke hangs between his parted lips as he waits for me at the end of the road, hoping my brother doesn't see us. I drop my duffle bag rushing into his arms and meeting his lips with a sinful kiss. His lustful eyes raked over my outfit, biting his lip But we both know time is of the essence.

Out on the open road of Monaco with the wind in my hair, hand on the back of my neck, just us and the ocean. His palm lays flat on my exposed thigh, mindlessly drawing shapes, his fluffy hair tousled due to the wind. His skin was glowing due to the setting sun. We pause to watch the sunset. I lean back against his chest, nestled between his long legs, with his arms wrapped around my waist and his lips against my neck. While my phone rings in the back seat.

5 missed calls from George

It's midnight, and we're tangled up in his sheets. I'm nestled against his side, his warm skin pressed against mine. His hand slowly roams my hip and waist until the teasing becomes too much. I stand over his body, holding him like a python, he canʼt keep his hands off me or his pants on. His lips whispered my name like a prayer.

16 missed calls from George

DAY 2:

In the morning light, he's still as handsome as ever, with tousled hair and sleepy eyes. I press a soft kiss to his jaw. As I try to untangle our limbs, his arms tighten around my waist. I flop back down, giving up on getting out of my safe place. After all, who needs breakfast?

Around mid-noon, we begrudgingly leave the bedroom to have ‘breakfastʼ. Who would have thought Toto Wolff would look so good making eggs? His bare torso is covered in an apron, his dexterous fingers wrapped around the whisk. I just intently stare at him making us breakfast, simply mesmerised, which he notices, he winks before giving me a bowl of strawberries to snack on. We share Crêpeʼs with whipped cream, with my feet in his lap; our lips swollen and his marble skin covered in purple splotches.

26 missed calls from George

It's the dead of night, and he sits on the sofa with his spectacles on, furiously typing away on his laptop, his hair messy from running his hand through it, his face set in a scowl. I just made his favourite Pumpernickel bread, and I have about 45 minutes to kill while it bakes. He looks too delicious right now for me to resist. I stand in front of him with an innocent smile, slowly moving his laptop away. His brown eyes crinkle with excitement, His lips find mine as I tug on his hair, gently massaging it to soothe the sting. He chuckles against my lip, his large palms sinking into my skin as my fingers nimbly unbutton his white shirt. My lips meet the skin between his neck and shoulder, his head thrown back in pleasure.

38 missed calls from George 

DAY 3:

The next morning, I grab my phone while Torger is in the shower, to see a flurry of texts from my brother cussing me out, asking where I am. I calm him down, listing more lies to cover up our trial and he blindly trusts me, my heart heavy with guilt but he would never understand. I repeat it in my head like a mantra till that guilt settles when Toto takes me into his arms, kissing away my problems.

We lay on the couch as I read out loud, my hand running through his hair, his eyes fluttering shut. God, he's so handsome.

I chuckle, my darling all worn out. The simple domesticity of this week has me longing for more. we need to tell my brother, but how can I, this wasn't meant to happen but if I could go back in time I wouldn't change a thing. but my brother wouldn't understand, he has always been protective of his baby sister, and I know he would blow a fuse if he realised I was with his long-time mentor.

Our peaceful weekend had come to an end when he parked at the end of the road; back where we started, His face seemed to be set in a permanent scowl during the drive back. A chaste kiss and I walked up the road back home nodding at the security guard as he let me in giving me a sorrowful look. Stepping through the threshold of my house I switch to being the perfect sister and daughter of The Russells.

I happily greet my brother, feeding lies about my girl's weekend like I didn't spend the whole weekend in bed with his Boss and Mentor. As I head up the stairs he complements my outfit, I thank him with a soft smile but beneath that pretty pink Chanel dress he brought are the bruised hand prints of Torger Wolff with love bites to match.

[jellys-compendium]

Eat Me - Ch. 2

Rating: 🔞 (Minors DNI)

Pairing: Vampire Hunter Nanami x Vampire F!Reader Chapter cw: blood and violence, mentions of previous chapter's sex scene, minor character death Wc: ~2.3K A/n: Well here it is. I hope the people who were looking forward to this continuation enjoy chapter 2. If you liked it, please let me know! Thanks!

Chapter Index: [1], 2

Nanami Kento focuses on the target in front of him. Cornered in a back alley, a man lies supine on the unforgiving concrete, black liquid dripping from his throat and fingertips, staining both the ground and his white dress shirt. 

The sharp scent of copper hangs heavy in the night air, the sickening sound of slurping accompanying it. A dark shadow hovers above the man, hunched over him like a vulture over its kill. It’s grotesque in the way it shudders, sighs, and laps at the pools of blood with ravenous ecstacy, the long blonde hair cascading from the crown of its head doing little to conceal the horrific scene before him.

Nanami readies himself to take the vampire on, sharpening his senses and using his technique to rapidly build the strength in his body. He’ll dispatch the creature in one blow, there would be less suffering that way.

In anticipation of the violence that is to come, Nanami loosens and removes his tie, circling it around his fist to help reinforce the bones in his hand. He advances, the sound of his heavy footfalls ring between the cold concrete walls that surround them, immediately alerting the creature to his presence.

The vampire stops feeding, the stomach churning sounds it had made swallowed by the darkness surrounding them. Nanami stands perfectly still. The confidence of his stance makes the creature appear uneasy as it leaves the man’s neck to turn and look at him. Fear flashes across her bloodied face for a moment, but it is quickly overtaken by that look of disturbed euphoria in her glowing red eyes. That eerie expression of a vampire in frenzy. 

After a decided moment of silence, the creature’s hold on the corpse tightens as she snarls at Nanami. Her fangs gleam in the sparse moonlight from above as she pulls the body closer, thin arms trembling as she cradles the man she had viciously mauled almost like a lover would. 

Nanami catches a glimpse of the man’s face when she moves him, expecting to see those wide eyes and mouth frozen open with terror. But instead what Nanami sees disturbs him even more. The man’s eyes are closed, and the expression he’d harbored in his last moments of life looks almost serene.

And for the briefest of moments, Nanami wonders. Is that the face he made when your fangs pierced his throat?

He swallows, his tongue heavy and dry like granite as he forces the thought of you from his mind. He will not taint what happened between the two of you with this. Refocusing on his target, Nanami wastes no more time and lunges at the vampire. The creature shrieks angrily, but it does not run. Instead, she covers the corpse she is cradling and refuses to leave the dead man’s side. 

The merciless blow Nanami lands shatters pristine skin and marble bone. The vampire, though powerful, succumbs to the sheer force of Nanami’s overwhelming power like a sapling in a hurricane. Her terrible scream echoes through the night as his fist nearly splits her body clean down the middle. It’s not long before her screams turn to sickening gurgles and she takes her last breath, joining the man beside her.

Nanami slowly stands. Rivers of liquid black drip down his knuckles and land on the grimey pavement below. The rorschach it forms, a sickening signature upon the “good deed” he’d just performed.

“Stop lying to me. You’re a hunter. Killing vampires is what you hunters do, right?”

The trickling down his hands and the cool night air…he can hardly feel them. It feels as if he’s been plucked from the alleyway and placed in some artificial lab, a white room in the middle of nowhere where all sensation and notion of being alive is far beyond his reach.

He feels so…numb.

“If you’re going to kill me just do it already.”

Nanami’s gaze falls and lands on his bloodsoaked hands. Would you end up meeting the same fate as this vampire? Nothing but a bloodstain on the pavement, or a pile of ash scattered in the wind? His entire purpose in life is to wipe your kind out, it is the only life Nanami had ever known. And letting you live, is a betrayal of everything hunters stood for. A betrayal of everything Nanami believed he once was.

But…he can’t go through with it. Can’t even stomach the idea of harming a single hair on your head, let alone send you back to your maker. Nanami knows, deep down in his gut, that he has come to care for you—swiftly, intensely, and so very deeply. And with each vampire Nanami slays, the more he sees your face in them and the more those malicious jaws of his mission—his duty—close in on him. It won’t be long before the others start asking questions.

Or before Gojo takes matters into his own hands.

Shaking away the thought, Nanami reaches into his pocket and pulls out his phone, scrolling through his contacts until he finds the person he’s looking for. The phone only rings once before Masamichi’s deep voice rumbles over the line.

“Report.”

“Extermination complete.” Nanami flatly responds. “One human fatality. Requesting cleanup at my location.”

“Understood. I’ll send Itadori and his team.”

Nanami grimaces at those words and his gaze falls upon the two blood soaked corpses on the ground. 

“Send someone else.”

There’s a shuffling sound over the phone. Nanami hears Masamichi shout a gruff “Hey!” before he hears that unmistakable, youthful voice join the conversation.

“Hey! Come on, don’t underestimate me! I can handle it. And why didn’t you take me with you today Nanamin?”

Nanami’s response is curt and cold, knowing perfectly well that if he has any hope of stifling Yuji’s protests, he will need to be firm and unyielding.

“This is no job for a child.”

“I’m not a child, I’m a hunter in training! What do you think is going to happen once I become a full fledged hunter, huh? I’m going to be out there exterminating vampires just like you.”

Nanami’s grip tightens around his phone. The thought of any child having to deal with the grim realities of the adult world, or so eagerly accepting the terrible fate of becoming a vampire hunter, makes him feel sick to his stomach. He would spare Yuji or any other child from all of this if he could. Killing vampires isn’t glorious. It’s not even heroic.

Nanami lowers the phone, trying very hard to ignore Yuji’s attempts to get his attention as he quickly switches to his messages and sends off a quick text.

“Nanami?” Yuji’s insistent voice rings loudly through the phone. “Naaaanamiiii? Na-na-miiiin?!  Nanananananamiiii!!”

Nanami sighs and returns the phone to his ear.

“I am not arguing with you, Yuji. This is not something you need to see. Tell Masamichi that I’ve contacted Ijichi. He will take care of the cleanup.”

“Wait! Na–”

Nanami promptly hangs up, puts his phone on silent, and slips it back into his pocket. As he waits for Ijichi and the cleanup crew, he glances at the bloodied corpses, their limbs entangled in one another. The vampire’s hand is tightly gripping the man’s and her hold is still so tight that her nails have pierced his skin. She never let him go, not even in death.

Thunder rumbles in the sky above by the time Ijichi arrives with his clean up crew. Nitta, unsurprisingly, has joined him as well. The pair quickly approach Nanami, unsubtly attempting to peer over his shoulder to get a glimpse of the gruesome scene he left behind. Nanami finds their morbid curiosity distasteful, but understandable. Given that both Ijichi and Nitta are some of the many who occupy a supportive role amongst the hunters, this is usually as close to a vampire as they’ll ever get.

Usually being the key word of course. Especially considering that your desk is right next to theirs.

“Was that the only one, Mr. Nanami?” Ijichi asks, the bags under his eyes noticeable even under the dim light.

Nanami nods and then promptly explains the situation. He spares them the unnecessary details, assured that they don’t want to be knee-deep in this sorry affair any longer than Nanami does. Ichiji and Nitta listen intently to the senior hunter’s report before affirming his information and proceeding with the clean up. With any luck, they’d be done a few hours before dawn.

By the time Nanami makes his way home, the thunder roars loudly, like an angry god in the sky. Purple streaks of lightning flash in the midst of heavy, dark clouds. About half way home, Nanami feels the pitter patter of raindrops against his cheeks and hands. His footsteps falter and he looks up for a moment and closes his eyes, savoring the cool touches dotting his face.

The rain increases in intensity as he stands there, engulfing Nanami in a downpour and drenching through his clothing in seconds. He doesn’t move, electing to instead savor that rain, foolishly hoping that it could somehow wash away all the blood on his hands. That he may be forgiven for his sins and could one day leave this kind of life behind and settle down somewhere nice and warm. Maybe…he could even take you with him.

You. 

The thought of you is always inescapable. For months Nanami had tried to deny it, but the more time the two of you spent together in that office, the more difficult it became to ignore his feelings for you. 

It was the way you smiled. The sound of your laugh ringing down the hallway as you shared corny jokes with your coworkers in the staff room. It was the joy and excitement you had for the little things, and your compassion. The tender and encouraging words you had so freely given him on those late office nights were like a lifesaving breath of air amidst all the drowning. Being in your company, Nanami found both a gentle solace and a burning desire that made him feel more alive than he ever had in years.

A pleasurable throb emanates from the column of his throat, beckoning him. Nanami reaches up, and brushes his fingers along the puckered puncture wounds on his neck.

“You don’t know what you’re offering…”

Oh, he knows. And Nanami will gladly offer it to you again and again and again. So long as you’ll have him, he’ll nourish your body with his own, serving you with his flesh and loving you with his heart until you’re aching for more, crying for more, begging for more. He’ll make you melt in his arms as he renders you blissfully enraptured.

The hiss of the now pounding rain floods Nanami Kento’s ears, the midnight downpour covering the city like a curtain, overpowering the sounds of nightlife as it soaks the earth. Flashes of your ecstasy replays on repeat in Nanami’s mind. The scarlet velvet of your lips and the white gleam of those pretty fangs that scrape so tantalizingly along them are nearly driving him to the point of madness. 

Nanami bites his inner cheek. He remembers the feeling of your hot pussy, spread open beneath those panties just for him. Cushioning and cradling his cock so perfectly it was like the two of you were made for one another. An intense heat courses along Nanami’s skin despite the frigid rain. He feels hot and electric, charged much like the sky above. He can practically feel your sinful tongue stoking up his neck and the sharp glide of your fangs along his Adam's apple.

“Mr. Nanami…”

Fuck…

“Touch me.”

His cock instantly hardens, your breathless plea echoing in his mind over and over, tormenting him sweetly with a prurient promise that he knows he shouldn’t want, but covets so ardently. Nanami had never intended to lay a hand on you tonight, but that enchanting siren song of your need—so sweet like a honeydrop from a ripened fruit on the vine—proved impossible for him to ignore.

He is assigned to kill you, and yet here he stands, desperate to give you a piece of him, be it big or small, it doesn’t matter to him either way, so long as he gets to be inside of you. 

Nanami resumes his walk, wet shoes squeaking with each step against the glimmering, moonlit concrete. He shakes his head as he adjusts himself in his pants, laughing pitifully under his breath at his sorry state.

You may be the vampire, but between the two of you, who is the ravenous beast really? 

(***)

Across the sea, Gojo Satoru sits comfortably behind the window of his high rise penthouse, those heavenly blues admiring the spectacular pink and orange tones of the sunrise. He sighs wistfully before taking a sip of his black ivory coffee. It’s been a good hunt, but his fun will soon be coming to an end. Once he eliminates his high profile target it will be back to the mundanity of home.

Despite having no other audience than himself, Gojo sighs dramatically once more before taking another sip from his steaming cup.

“How boring.”

His theatrical melancholy is abruptly interrupted by the vibration of his phone. Glancing down, Gojo reaches down with his dexterous fingers and pulls the phone free from the bathrobe’s pocket. He glances at the notification. It’s a text from Shoko.

‘You need to see this.’

A picture sits below the text. It’s dark and slightly out of focus, but Gojo’s keen eye is near impossible to fool. At the center of the photo is his friend and colleague Nanami Kento, his expression hardened into one of barely controlled bliss. And nestled in his arms, latched onto his throat like a leech, is the vampire princess he was assigned to kill.

A slow, sly smile spreads across Gojo’s lips as he studies the picture.

“Well, well. How unusual for you, Nanamin. Perhaps the return home won’t be so boring after all.”

[alltheirdamn]

Killing Me Softly | (Joel x teacher!f!reader)

Chap. 8 Stages

Summary: The truth is the hardest pill to swallow. Rating: 18+ Word Count: 9.5k Warnings: **THIS CONTAINS SERIES SPOILERS** violence, blood, angst x1000, language, brief hospital setting, mentions of alcohol, stages of grief, heavy emotions A/N: This was one of the most cathartic and emotional pieces of writing I've ever done.

Masterlist | Ko-fi

You didn’t realize how white your knuckles were until you glanced down at your hands gripping the steering wheel. You hadn’t moved the car a single inch since you saw Bennett’s car. It was the same piece of shit silver sedan he always drove; you’d know it in a heartbeat. Even if you didn’t recognize it, you could spot his floppy blonde hair and lean frame standing on your porch. You mindlessly searched your purse for your phone, dialing Joel’s number. You’d hate yourself for this later, but you needed to lie. 

“Everythin’ okay?” Joel answered. 

“Yeah, everything is fine,” you lied. For your sake, you hoped that your voice wouldn’t be as shaky as your body. “I didn’t mean to freak you out earlier. Why don’t you come over later, okay? I just got home, and my head is pounding.” 

“I was ‘bout to leave my house, baby. Can I come over with some medicine and some food? I’ll take care of you,” Joel insisted. 

“No!” You panicked. “No, it’s okay. I’ll call you later, and you can come over. I promise.”

“Baby, y’sure you’re okay?”

You inhaled sharply, your eyes glued to Bennett only yards away. God, you were terrible at lying, but if Joel knew Bennett was here, you’d be left with a dead body in your front yard. 

“I’m fine, Joel,” you sighed. “Just need some rest.”

“I’ll be waitin’ for you to call,” Joel said. You could hear the defeat in his voice. 

“I’ll see you tonight, okay?”

“See you later, baby.”

You couldn’t hang up the phone fast enough. Joel would hate you for lying, but you needed to do this—whatever it was—alone. Everything in your life had been flipped on its head in just a week, and now, the man who had broken your heart beyond amends was standing at your front door. You weren’t sure if you would survive this.

Taking your foot off the brake, you rolled your car into the driveway. Bennett glanced at your car as you put it in park, his blue eyes piercing through the distance between your bodies. The coldness of his stare was just the same as it was two years ago; nothing about him had changed. 

Your legs could barely hold up your trembling body as you exited the car and made your way to the porch. Bennett wore a casual business suit, the pale blue dress shirt unbuttoned at the top, and his black slacks hugged his long legs. He hadn’t changed one bit. He was always the businessman. 

“What the fuck are you doing here?” You questioned, bounding up the porch steps.

Bennett eyed you as you got closer, shifting his weight and drinking you in. You were well aware of your appearance: the long work day had left your hair tousled and your blouse wrinkled from sitting at your desk. You spent two years imagining what seeing him again would be like, and in every stupid imagination, you weren’t looking worn down and tired. You imagined you’d be triumphant and strong, but you were small again in his shadow. 

“Hello to you, too,” Bennett grinned. Your name off his tongue was venomous, a slow, poisonous drip that ran through your veins. Compared to Joel’s accent drawling out your name, Bennett said it like a curse. 

“I’ll ask you again, Bennett. What the fuck are you doing here?”

Bennett’s hands twisted together in front of his body, and your eyes caught the sun’s light radiating off a golden band sitting snugly on his left hand. He was married. You steadied your body's sway, your vision blurring around the edges. 

“You’re— you’re married,” you stammered. 

Bennett glanced at his hand, his eyes roaming back to yours with a smug grin.

“Just tied the knot in May,” he shrugged. 

“To who? What—. I don’t understand why you’re here.” Your mind was reeling. 

“Her name is Natalie. We met through work about a year ago. We hit it off immediately, and I knew she was the one.”

Your knees threatened to buckle, and the strong composure you tried to maintain slipped. Bennett was married. He was in love. And it was to someone else. 

“If she’s the one, then why are you here? At my house?”

Bennett looked up at the porch overhang, his eyes tracking over the flowers planted in the yard on the walkway leading to the front door. You saw it in his eyes; you had made this a home. 

“Your house,” Bennett echoed. 

“Yes, Bennett. My fucking house. The one you abandoned when you ran away.”

Bennett scoffed, tucking his hands into his pocket. 

“You still don’t remember, huh?” He asked, tilting his head as he looked at you.

“Don’t you fucking dare,” you seethed. You stepped forward, baring your teeth.

Not only was Bennett here, but he was taunting your memory. Nothing had fucking changed. 

“A friend of mine saw you out to dinner with someone a couple of weeks ago,” Bennett started. “I was curious and figured I’d drop by and ask about it.”

You laughed.

“Not only did you leave me, but you got married. And now you want to act like you give a shit about who I date?” You accused. “Are you that fucking cruel, Bennett? Do you have any clue how fucking insane you sound? You have no control over my life anymore. Who I date and what I do is none of your business! You decided that the day you left.”

“I’m here because I care about you,” he defended.

“You never cared about me!” You yelled. “You left me! You have no right to come back. Not now. Not ever.”

Bennett stepped forward, both of you toe to toe. You couldn’t decipher the look in his eyes. Something about the way he stared at you made you rethink his words. He looked concerned; he looked at you like he did care. It was a look you hadn’t seen since before the accident. 

“You really don’t know anything, do you?” He asked. 

“Know what, Bennett? Stop being so fucking cryptic!”

Bennett opened his mouth to speak, but the words were drowned out by the sound of tires squealing. Your head whipped to the side, your eyes widening as you saw Joel barreling out of his truck and up the yard. 

“Joel?” You exhaled.

You told him you’d call him later. You told him not to come here. Why didn’t he fucking listen? Why now?

“Bennett!” He shouted, running up the front steps. 

You barely made it out of the way before Joel’s fist sailed into Bennett’s jaw, the sound of bones cracking echoing around you. There was no time to recover or react as Joel grabbed Bennett by the shirt collar, spinning him into the wall and shoving him on his toes. Joel was only a few inches taller than Bennett, but in his grip, Bennett looked smaller than you had ever seen him. Blood dripped from his lip as he whimpered in Joel’s grasp, a deep purple bruise blooming across his cheek and jaw. 

“Joel!” You gasped, your voice finally returning. 

You ran toward his body, trying to tear him off Bennett’s body. Joel only shrugged away your hands, his fists tightening around Bennett’s collar.

“I told you I’d kill you if you ever came back,” Joel snarled.

You staggered back after hearing his words. What did Joel mean? What was he saying?

Bennett smiled through bloodied teeth, pushing his face closer to Joel’s. His eyes shifted between yours and Joel's, and his lips curled back.

“We both agreed to stay away,” Bennett said. “Then I find out you just couldn’t give up. You came right back to her. Does she even know?”

“Y’have no fuckin’ business to be back here, Bennett,” Joel snapped. 

Joel used brute strength to wrangle Bennett to the ground, his arm winding back before he assaulted him with another pound of his fist. Bennett’s face snapped to the side, blood spurting onto the wood-paneled floor. Joel delivered an onslaught of punches, an explosive display of his anger shown in the form of sadistic violence. Never did you imagine Joel to be so cruel, so unforgiving… so terrifying. You watched in horror as Joel terrorized Bennett with strike after strike. You couldn’t stomach it, your body swirling with nausea as more blood pooled around Bennett’s face.

“Joel! Stop it!” You finally screamed.

You threw yourself at him, yanking at his shoulders to try and tear him away from Bennett’s limp body. Bennett’s eyes were hardly open, shallow groans escaping his mouth as he shook his head back and forth. He was hardly recognizable. 

“Joel!” You pleaded. “Stop it, please!”

Finally, Joel relented, rocking back onto his heels with blood splattered on his hands and shirt. This wasn’t the man you loved. This was someone else… someone terrifying. 

“I’m calling the cops,” you panted, your breath ragged as you tried to swallow down the vomit rising in your throat.

“Don’t,” Joel argued. You didn’t recognize the tone of his voice; it was so harsh and angry.

“I can’t just leave him like this, Joel! Don’t you see what you did to him? I don’t—I don’t know what the fuck just happened. I told you to stay home. I can’t… We need to call an ambulance.”

Joel stood to his full height, glancing down at his hands, their tanned skin battered and bloody. Whoever this man was before you, it was not the man you were falling in love with. 

“What are you gonna tell them, baby? Because if they see me like this, I’m goin’ to jail.”

“Are you threatening me right now, Joel?” You gaped. “After everything you just did.”

His eyes met yours, the darkness inside them drowning out the brown you were so familiar with. His eyebrows furrowed together, scrutinizing your body language and disgust as you stared at him. 

“Call them,” he grunted. “I don’t give a fuck. I told him what to expect if he ever came back.”

There it was again. That same sentence that confused the hell out of you. It jarred you in an unsettling way, but you pushed it down and focused on the man lying unconscious on the porch. You ran to your car, dug for your phone, and dialed 911.

You remained by your car until the police showed up, their flashing lights and sirens lighting up the fading sun as it drifted into duskfall. Joel sat on the porch steps, his head hung low and bruised hands in his lap. Neither of you had spoken a word since you called the police, and his words to Bennett still swarmed inside your mind. You had lied about the headache to him earlier, but now it was true. And you felt fucking miserable. 

Two police officers exited their car, meeting you on the driveway. 

“Can you tell us what happened here, ma’am?” One of them asked. He was taller than Joel, his face clean-shaven and creased with aging skin. His hand remained comfortably over the grip of his gun on his utility belt, and you tracked each movement as your heart thumped in your ears. 

You swallowed thickly, deciding to do the unspeakable. You lied.

“I came home, and my ex-fiancé was waiting for me,” you explained, meticulously fabricating a story that would save Joel. Despite your confusion, a small piece of you still wanted to protect him. “I called my boyfriend and told him I felt unsafe. I tried waiting in my car, but—but my ex dragged me from the car and was threatening to hurt me if I didn’t let him inside. That's when Joel, my boyfriend, showed up. Everything he did was to protect me.”

The lie tasted bitter as it sat heavy on your tongue. It was hard to remain composed as your headache grew stronger. 

“We’ll need statements from both parties,” the officer explained, reaching for a small notepad. 

The other officer, a short, tan-skinned man, stayed with you and gathered your personal information. You watched as the first officer approached Joel, your body tense as you worried the stories wouldn’t add up. You lied for Joel. You hoped for both of your sakes he would fuck this up more than he had already. 

The blaring sound of sirens jolted you from your fixation on Joel, the ambulance coming to a rolling stop in front of your driveway. The neighborhood was slowly becoming crowded, with watchful neighbors littering the streets and front yards. You shrunk away from their wandering eyes, wishing the world could grow quiet and dark. 

Medics bounded up your driveway, a stretcher and medical supplies in hand. You bit your lip to contain the cries threatening to explode. You hated Bennett, but the brutal image of Joel’s fist crushing his face over and over again… you couldn’t erase it from your mind. Bennett was a piece of shit, but he didn’t deserve what happened. 

The other officer joined you again, tapping his pen against the notepad. Anxiety wove its way through your pounding headache, straining the air, trying to expel from your chest. 

“The medics are working on stabilizing him now,” he explained. “Mr. Miller’s story matches yours, so our next step is prosecution. Is that something you’d like to do, Miss Smith? I recommend filing a restraining order as soon as possible to prevent another incident like this.”

“Yeah, yeah, okay,” you nodded. “Whatever you think is best.”

The officer cocked an eyebrow at your response, visibly confused. If you were following the path of your lie, a restraining order would make sense, but you also wanted to speak to Bennett after he recovered. You needed answers. You needed answers from him and Joel. 

“I’ll give you the contact information for an attorney that can help with the process, but other than that, we have everything we need tonight,” he said. “When your ex-fiance is awake and alert, we’ll gather his statement and file a full report. Medics will transfer him to St. David’s for further evaluations and motoring. If Mr. Miller needs further medical attention, please contact us so we can include it in the report.”

He handed you a business card with his name and number, and slowly, the commotion began to die out. You looked on in horror as the medics wheeled Bennett off in a stretcher, his face swollen and bandaged. He was a hollow version of the man you once considered so powerful. Your memories, your happiness… they were always his. And you didn’t know who owned those things anymore. Everything was crashing down around you, and you had no control.

Joel’s figure was shrouded in darkness as he stood by your front door. The anger still radiated off his body, but it was far more tame than it had been just an hour ago. The medics had cleaned and bandaged his hand, and he kept it cradled to his body. You made a conscious effort not to look at the red stains marring your porch; you’d worry about cleaning the mess tomorrow. You couldn’t stomach the smell and sight of it, not when your mind was plunging further under the pressure of your migraine. 

Joel said your name, steering you out of your swarming thoughts. You blinked up at him, your eyes hazy and blurred from tears.

“Why the hell are you here, Joel?” You snapped. “I told you to stay home, so why the fuck did you show up?”

“Somethin’ bout the way you sounded on the phone made me nervous. I’m not sorry I showed up, though,” he confessed. That wasn’t good enough.

“You either explain to me what the fuck just happened, or you leave,” you ordered. 

“I can explain everythin’, baby. Can we just go inside?” Joel asked.

“You actually think I’m letting you in my house after you almost killed someone?” You raged. “I don’t even recognize you right now, Joel! And what the fuck did you mean when you told Bennett never to come back? What did he mean when he said you both agreed to stay away? Do you know him, Joel? Have you been lying to me this whole time?”

Joel sighed, his eyes falling to the ground; he couldn’t even fucking look at you.

“Answer me, damn it!” You cried. “Why won’t you answer me!”

“Baby, can we please go in the house? I need you to sit down and listen to me when I explain everythin’.”

“No! I want you to tell me right now.”

Joel nodded, standing idle in front of you. 

“I knew about your accident before we met.”

You looked at him horrified, your body frozen. 

“How?” You asked. “You didn’t even know me until almost three months ago.”

“I knew ‘bout it ‘cause we were datin’ when it happened,” he sighed. Joel’s features began to soften, and the pain in his voice was almost impossible to ignore. 

“No,” you shook your head. “You’re lying to me.”

“I’m not! Would you just listen to me? Please?” He pleaded, stepping forward.

You staggered back, your back hitting the side wall of the house. Your knees barely held your weight as you tried to grasp his words. Joel rubbed his bandaged knuckles, sucking in a breath before continuing. 

“You and Bennett broke up after you moved to Austin,” he began. “Y’all had some big argument, so y’moved in with Maria since you were substitute teachin’ at her school—the same school you teach at now. It musta been a couple of months after the breakup, but there was a parent-teacher conference night, and I ran into you. That's how you and I met, baby. That was nearly five years ago.”

Like a saw cutting bone, your headache fractured into a million tiny pieces, each one a sharp stab to your brain as you tried to grasp onto Joel's words. It wasn’t true. He was lying. You were going crazy; all your hard work at remembering everything and moving on was crumbling down, sand through your fingertips you could not keep from falling away.

“No, I know you’re lying,” you denied, tears streaming down your face. “You’re just making some sick fucking joke out of my memory loss. That’s what this is, isn’t it? You saw an opportunity to make up some story after I shared the most traumatic part of myself. You and Bennett…” You heaved in a breath. “No. This—this isn’t true. You’re lying.”

“I’m not! And I can prove it, but let me finish explainin’,” he begged before continuing. “We dated for almost two years, alright? Best fuckin’ years of my life. Y’were the best thing to ever happen to me. You even moved in with me and Sarah! She loved you so so much, baby. We would go to her soccer games together and watch cartoons together. We took her campin’ in the summer before the accident. Everythin’ was amazing. So fuckin’ amazing.”

“Sarah?” You interjected. “She would have said something to me months ago. You can’t expect me to believe this.”

“I begged her not to say anythin’ to you when she started school,” he explained. “I didn’t want you knowin’ till I was ready. I wanted to do this my way.”

“Your way?” You scoffed. “You get to decide when it’s a good time to tell me everything I’ve known is a lie? Are you fucking kidding me, Joel?”

“Everyone wanted to wait ‘til it was the right time,” he defended. “We all hoped you'd remember if I came back into your life.”

You slid down the wall, your body crumbling to the ground. You buried your head in your hands, trying to quell the pain squeezing together inside your head. Nothing made sense. Everything felt like a lie. It wasn’t true. You kept telling yourself that if it was true, everyone you loved and trusted had lied to you for years. You had struggled alone for so long without the truth. 

“My parents? My sisters? They all knew?” You muttered. “Everyone kept this from me?”

Joel crouched in front of you, his hand hovering over your leg. 

“Don’t fucking touch me!” You yelled. You shrunk away from him, curling your legs up to your chest and pressing into the wall. 

“The doctors and your parents thought it was best we didn’t mess with your memory,” he said, exasperated. “Bringin’ me into your life when y’didn’t remember me woulda set you back in recovery.”

“So, what?” You laughed bitterly. “Bennett just magically reappeared to save the day? Why did he come back if he and I were broken up?”

Joel pinched the bridge of his nose, his eyes squeezed tight. You shivered against the wind rustling through the yard, your thin shirt barely keeping you warm. Not even the warmth of your tears coating your cheeks could fight the chill creeping through your spine.

“Your parents made the decision to reach out to Bennett,” Joel argued. “And he loved the idea. Bennet loved knowin’ I’d have no access to your life, and he’d have you back.”

“My parents wouldn’t do that. They hate him.” You kept shaking your head, hoping things would begin to make sense.

“They hate him, but they love you more, baby,” he whispered. “And I loved you—I love you—and I was willing to risk it all. If there were some chance you would get your memory back, then I’d be here waiting for you.”

“But I never remembered! I still don’t remember, Joel! So why now? Why did you come back?”

Joel rocked back onto his heels, his body falling back until he sat before you. Tears glistened in his eyes, threatening to fall at any moment. He didn’t have the right to be sad; he fucked up. He lied to you, and now he was paying the consequences. Your indifference and anger would torture him like he had tortured you. Like everyone had tortured you. 

“I just wanted the chance,” he admitted. “I wanted to know if that spark was still here between us. I know it’s still there, baby. This is real.”

“Don’t call me baby,” you cried, your voice barely above a whisper. “This isn’t real. You lied to me, Joel, and so did everyone else. Everyone decided what they thought was best for me, and I have suffered because of it. Do you not see that?”

“We did it to protect you,” he defended. “Y’gotta understand that.”

You pulled yourself to your feet, tripping over his body and toward the door. You wanted nothing to do with this conversation anymore. You fumbled with the door handle, the tremor of your fingers making your grip weak on the lock. The sound of Joel standing behind you ignited another wave of nerves, and you spun to face him. 

“I will never forgive you for this,” you cried. 

He stepped forward, his eyes pleading with words he couldn’t say. You shoved at his chest, forcing him away from you. Joel’s brown eyes looked at you as if he could see your heart breaking. He choked out your name, broken syllables that no longer sounded beautiful on his tongue. 

“Don’t ever come back here,” you threatened. “Don’t contact me. Don’t contact my family. You need to leave. Now.”

“Please,” he begged. Heavy tears fell down his tanned cheeks, leading to the scruff lining his jaw. You would have ached to soothe his sadness yesterday, but not now. Not when his sadness stemmed from the lies that filled the gaps in your memories. 

“Leave!” You screamed, shoving him again. 

Joel stumbled back, staring at you wide-eyed and heartbroken. You stepped forward again, your hands ready to push against his chest one more time. He lifted his hands in defeat, walking backward down the porch steps. 

“I love you,” he whispered in the night. “I’m so sorry.”

You didn’t wait to see him leave. You threw open the front door and slammed it shut just as fast, your body slumping against the wood as you swallowed down your nausea. 

You wanted to vomit.

You wanted to scream. 

You wanted to stop loving Joel. 

The room was spinning around you, and you had no chance to find your bearings before the haze washed over your mind and dropped you to the ground. 

Everything was dark around you. You groaned as you peeled yourself from the floor, your head still throbbing. The lies grew louder as you tried to recall everything Joel had said. 

I wanted to do this my way. 

I love you. 

Lie after lie, overlapping in the ocean of pain, threading its way through your body. The house felt colder than you were used to, your body still shivering as you stood on unsteady legs. You walked to the kitchen in search of water; every swallow felt like knives slicing through your throat. You fumbled for the kitchen light, rummaging through the cup cabinet for a glass. Two gray mugs sat snug on the shelf, the reminder of Joel staring straight at you. Another wave of emotions coursed through you, and you reached for them. 

You turned them in your hands, the faint smell of coffee lingering on the ceramic. The quiet moment spent together no longer felt special; it felt like a disgusting lie. Joel didn’t guess how you liked your coffee; he knew. He knew everything about you. The rage inside you returned, stronger than it had been on the porch. Your hands squeezed the mugs, and you hurled them into the nearest wall, a scream erupting from your mouth. You didn’t flinch as they shattered. You didn’t blink as they pierced the wall and chipped the paint. This house was built on lies, and you wanted to ruin every inch of it. You reached for another mug, smashing it on the ground before you. Then another…and another, until you stood in a pile of broken shards of your life. 

It wasn’t enough. 

You walked around the house, shattering anything you could find worth breaking. You stood in the living room and stared at the dust-covered bookshelf, your chest rising and falling. The books crammed on the shelves taunted you, the broken spines and dog-eared pages another reminder of the years you’d never remember. The adrenaline and anger led you to the shelf, and you used all of your strength to push it over. It toppled to the ground, its weight shaking the floor beneath your feet. A few books made their way out of the destruction, their bindings crushed by the downfall. 

You staggered back to the couch, slumping into the stiff cushions. Flashes of Joel wrapped around you flooded your mind, and you immediately rolled off of it. Your ass hit the ground, and you crumbled into a ball. Somewhere in the distance, your phone rang, the shrill of the ringer echoing through the destruction you had created. Maybe it was your mom with news of your dad. Maybe it was Beth. But you knew your phone would never light up with Joel’s name again. 

You rubbed your temples, trying to massage the ache throbbing in your skull. 

You spent another hour on the ground until you finally decided to drag yourself to the bathroom. Under the blinding lights, you stared at the stranger in the mirror. You didn’t recognize her. Whoever she was, she wasn’t the girl you had been hours ago. Your eyes were swollen from crying, your cheeks flushed, and your lips chapped from screaming. The wrinkles in your blouse were worse than they had been after school, the corners untucked from your work pants and splattered with remnants of Bennett’s blood. You didn’t recall ever getting close enough to the bloodshed, but the evidence of Joel’s violence was all over your body. You couldn’t tear your clothes off fast enough. 

You turned on the shower and didn’t wait for the water to run warm. The cold spray washed over your hair, and you scrubbed every inch of your body until your skin was raw and red. You ran the loufa over the places on your body Joel had touched: your stomach, your neck, your breasts. There wasn’t enough soap and water to rid yourself of the phantom touches left on your skin. You hated him. No, you wanted to hate him. You shook your head… you hated him. 

You hated everyone in your life. 

The imprint of Joel’s body was still pressed into the other side of the bed, and you couldn’t stand looking at the pillow he had laid his head on beside you. Those moments you shared under the light of the moon no longer felt special. He knew your body once before; he had seen you stripped bare and spread open. You gave yourself to him willingly, which meant something to you. Stripping off the sheets, you tossed them to the floor, curling up on the cold mattress. Sleep evaded you, so you let the night pass, your eyes watching the hours slip away through the view behind the bedroom window. 

Eventually, the sun rose and colored your room in soft morning sunshine. It angered you that the Earth continued to spin; the world hadn’t stopped moving, though you remained stuck in the series of events from yesterday. It was so fucking unfair that people around you would wake up today and move through their day with contentment and happiness. You didn’t know if you’d ever experience those emotions again. You were spiraling into each stage of grief, the overwhelming pressure of them consuming every fiber of your being. 

You mustered up whatever energy you had from yesterday to pull yourself from the empty bed. You were numb as you dressed yourself for work, avoiding the mirror as you put on a black dress and flats. You had briefly considered covering your dark circles and puffy eyes with makeup, but your exhaustion and lack of care said otherwise. 

Vacating your room, you walked into the mess you had created. Shards of broken dishes and glass littered the floor, the wallpaper torn in areas, and the bookshelf still lying half-destroyed in the living room. A laugh bubbled out of your mouth, the sound foreign and distorted. You did this. Your rage and hatred for everything around you ruined the only haven you had left. You couldn’t contain the laughter as it wracked through your body, tears springing from your eyes as your eyes glazed over the catastrophe of each room. The denial settled back over you when the laughter died, leaving you weeping in an empty house. 

As you left the house, you averted your eyes, your self-restraint working overtime not to focus on the blood stains marring the porch. You’d deal with that later. The silence inside your car weighed heavy on you while you drove to the school, your mind numb and empty as you pulled into your parking space. You should have found a substitute for the day, but you needed the distraction. Who knows what would have become of your house if you stayed in it any longer. The idea of setting it on fire didn’t sound so bad. 

You decided to lock your classroom door until school began; you didn’t need nor want to see Maria. She was just as much a liar as the rest, leading you on all these months and pushing you toward Joel. That “Happy Hour” night was just a ploy to get you and Joel in the same space; her intentions were never pure. Everyone had blood on their hands in this stupid fucking plan. 

The school bell rang, and you hesitantly opened your door. You plastered on the fake smile you had mastered, feeling uncomfortable after the last few months of actually feeling happy. Joel took that away in the span of a night. 

As the students filed in, you greeted them with a tight-lipped smile and a brief hello before settling into your desk chair. You weren’t in the right headspace to teach today, so you opted for quiet reading time and a few worksheets: anything to keep the noise levels down and the questions to a bare minimum. 

The classes went as smoothly as possible, with only a few outbursts of noise from each class. You hadn’t found the time to cry between each one, too busy finding the courage to face Sarah. 

Joel’s voice rang in your head as you watched her walk into the classroom, her curls bouncing with each step. 

She loved you so much, baby.

How could you believe Joel when he said something like that? It wasn’t true; it was manipulative. You never knew Sarah until this year. She was just as much a stranger to you as any other student until Joel entered your life. Yes, you cared for her, but you didn’t love her. Even she had been a part of all of this, her last conversation with you was just as much of a lie as everything else. You doubted Joel told Tommy he loved you, and you doubted Sarah even heard the conversation—if there really was a conversation to begin with. She was pushing you toward him like everyone else did. 

Everyone had a say in your life except for you. You were a bystander among their choices; nothing in the last three years had been in your control. You were a puppet on a string, tossed everywhere until it pleased them. 

“Okay, class, today is just an easy day for you,” you announced, your voice harsh and clipped. “Take out your reading for the next unit and work on chapters one through three. Once you finish, please grab a worksheet from my desk and get started on that.”

A unified groan sounded through the room, and that was your breaking point. Standing from your desk, you leveled the entire desk with a heavy glare.

“I don’t want to hear a single word today,” you snapped. “Open your books and start reading. Please.”

They all looked at you in terror. You had never been one to snap or be quick to anger, but you were teetering on the edge of eruption. One more word, and you would explode. The students sorted their backpacks for their books, the sound of pages rustling the only noise surrounding you. Slumping back into your chair, you sighed heavily and turned to your computer. 

An email sat unread in your mailbox, and you clicked it open with a pit in your stomach. 

Ms. Smith: My deepest apologies for your recent family emergency. Per the quarterly requirements, parent-teacher conferences must be completed by the end of the week.  If you need anything, please do not hesitate to reach out. Many thanks, Principal Edmonds 

Fuck. 

Fuck. Fuck Fuck.

You completely forgot about parent-teacher conferences. In the chaos of the last week, it had slipped your mind entirely. You scrounged through your binder of schedules and pulled out the spreadsheet you had created, skimming through the list to find Sarah’s name. She was the last on the list. Fuck. 

Seeing Joel this week would be too soon for the open wound bleeding inside your chest. You created a mock email to send to each parent, your fingers hovering over the keyboard as you landed on Joel’s email. You couldn’t avoid just one student during the conferences, even though every atom in your body screamed at you to do it. Without a second to overthink your choices, you sent your mass email and closed your inbox. 

As the class continued, students drifted to your desk for their worksheets. Sarah was among the first in the groups to come up; her eyes lowered to the ground, and a frown dragged down her lips. A piece you ached for her; she was just a child amid a web of lies. Then, there was another piece of you that understood Sarah was wiser than you realized. She understood the severity of the situation, yet she continued to persist. Were the soccer games even part of Joel's meticulous plan? 

“Miss Smith,” she cautioned. 

“Is there something you need, Sarah?” You scowled. You were being harsh, but you couldn’t find a fuck to give about it. 

“No. I—uh—I just wanted to ask if things were okay,” she stammered. “You know, between you and my dad. I shouldn’t have said anything yesterday. It was—.”

“I’m going to stop you right there, Sarah,” you interjected. You leaned forward, locking your hands together. “You shouldn’t be worrying about my dating life, nor should you worry about your father’s. I am your teacher, and these conversations need to stop.”

“I’m sorry,” she muttered, her eyes still staring at the ground. “I understand.”

She sulked back to her desk, never looking back at you. 

When the final bell rang, you exhaled relief and listened to the class chatter quietly as they packed up to leave. You quickly cleaned your desk, stuffed your things into your bag, and slung it over your shoulder. Maria's voice drifted down the hall before you could lock your door correctly.

“I’ve been trying to catch you all day!” She said, exasperated. 

You rolled your eyes, dropping your keys in your bag. Inhale. Exhale. 

“Sorry, Maria. I’ve just been busy,” you lied. “I need to get home, okay? We can catch up later.”

“Is everything alright?” She pressed. “Is it your dad? Is he okay?”

You whipped your head toward her, the venom creeping over your tongue. Inhale. Exhale.

“I haven’t had time to check in. I’ve been busy.”

Maria eyed you wearily, the dots connecting in her head the longer she stared at you. She saw the anger plastered on your face; she could hear the bitterness in your voice. Her lips trembled as she tried to piece together something to say. 

“Did something happen with Joel…” Her voice drifted off. 

“Don’t, Maria. I need to get going.”

You rushed down the hall, leaving her between empty classrooms and lingering students. 

St. David’s Medical Center looked the same as it did three years ago. Nothing had changed since you had been rushed here in an ambulance, your life hanging in the balance and memory gone. You’d never forget the moment you woke up in the hospital bed, bleary-eyed and confused. 

The brick building towered over you as you entered the ER. You stilled the erratic pulse in your veins before asking a nurse which floor Bennett had been transferred to. You didn’t want to do this—you didn’t want to see him—but you deserved answers that Joel didn’t have to offer. He hadn’t been the one with you the last three years; he didn’t know the other side of the story. 

The elevator ride up to the trauma unit was miserable, the nerves building inside you with each passing floor. You weren’t sure what to expect when you entered Bennett’s room, but you hoped for the best. Maybe he’d talk. Maybe he’d scream. Maybe he’d threaten to sue you…or Joel. All of which were valid reactions. The elevator door slid open, exposing you to a fluorescent hallway, a blur of nurses passing by as you walked through the corridor. 

The door to his room was shut, but you spotted a petite blonde woman through the cracks of the blinds. Natalie. Dammit, you forgot he had a wife, and that made all of this much more complicated. Sucking in a deep breath, you knocked. 

“You aren’t welcome here,” she seethed, cracking the door open an inch. 

“I understand, and I’m so sorry. I just—I just wanted to make sure he was okay. I’m at fault for all of this. I really am sorry,” you apologized. 

Natalie’s green eyes pierced into you, little daggers jabbing into the places in your heart that were still left intact. She was a few inches taller than you, her frame more petite and athletic than yours. You could understand why Bennett married her; she was perfect. You had no reason to be angry with her for his decisions, but you needed Natalie to know why you needed answers.

“Is he awake?” You asked, attempting to peer over her shoulder into the room. 

She quickly blocked your view, moving into the space that allowed you to see in. 

“You need to leave,” she snapped. “Our lawyer will contact you, and you can apologize to him.”

“Has he told you anything about me?” You tried a different angle. “If he has, you know why I need to talk to him. What happened yesterday…I had nothing to do with it. I was a bystander in all of it, and I know that doesn’t make the situation better, but I need to talk to him.”

“And I need you to fucking leave!” She raged. 

You were defeated, tired, and left with gaps in your memory that would never be filled with answers. Nodding slowly, you wound your hands together, twisting your fingers as you stood, reluctant to leave.

“Listen, when he gets better can you please just—can someone let me know? And if he ever wants to talk to me again, I’d really like to speak with him.”

“Like I said, our lawyer will contact you.”

The sound of movement behind her stirred her away, her head glancing back at the bed. You waited idly, trying to get a glimpse of Bennett. All you could make out was splotchy, swollen skin and bandages covering half his face. When you thought about Joel, a new wave of disgust flooded you. He did this. He not only ruined your life, but he ruined Bennett’s life, too. Joel nearly killed him last night, and the guilt would weigh on you heavily for that. 

“Natalie,” you heard Bennett’s voice echo into the hall. It was broken and raw, and you watched the door close in your face as she returned to his bedside. 

You remained outside the door for several minutes, not knowing what to say or where to go. This had been your only chance at learning the truth from his side, but Natalie persisted in not giving you the opportunity. You understood, though; you understood her pain. 

You made your way down the hall toward the nurse's station. An older woman in blue scrubs looked up at you with soft eyes and a gentle smile. 

“Can I help you with somethin’, dear?” She asked. 

“Do you mind if I leave my number with you? It’s for the patient down in room 201. I would really appreciate it if you could leave it with him when he gets discharged.”

“Oh, of course, sweetheart. Let me grab a notepad.”

You jotted down your number and left the hospital with tears streaming down your face. Everything was hopeless, completely hopeless. You would never get answers or closure; you’d have to spend however long to accept it and move forward. But that wasn’t good enough. You deserved answers. It was your life you had lost, and everyone else got the pleasure of knowing… everyone except you. 

You were too tired to care about the mess when you arrived home. You walked barefoot through the house, tiptoeing around the broken dishes, not bothered by the thought of stepping on the shards. You were numb; nothing would hurt right now. You had no appetite for dinner, so you settled for a glass of wine; at least the buzz would overlap the throbbing pain in your head. 

Your phone sat on the dining table, untouched. You hadn’t checked it in nearly twenty-four hours and were scared of what you might find. Despite the anger toward your family, you still worried for your dad. It was hard to push aside the emotions weighing down your chest, but you needed to make sure he was okay. 

Taking a long gulp of your wine, you finally checked your phone. 

Seven missed calls from Mom

Ten missed calls from Beth

Two missed calls from Stella

You dialed your mom’s number and waited with trembling hands. 

“Sweetheart! I was so worried about you. Why haven’t you answered me?” Your mom sounded flustered.

“I’ve been busy,” you lied. 

“We’ve been trying to get a hold of you all day. Dad woke up this morning, and everything was okay, like we hoped. He’s going to have a bit of recovery with his hip, but there were no other issues. His memory is fine, and he’s alert.”

That was the tipping point. 

“I’m glad he can remember everything. I would really hate it if you had to lie to someone again about their life,” you said bitterly. 

The silence was louder than words. 

“Sweetie…” Your mom pleaded.

“I know, Mom. I know you lied. I know about everything, so save it.”

“You have to understand—.”

“I don’t have to understand anything! You don’t get to decide what I think or feel right now. You all chose to lie to me for years!”

“It was what we thought was right,” your mom begged. “We didn’t want to lose you. We—we were all so scared that messing with your memory would make things worse.”

You laughed, your body void of any emotion other than anger. Your words were weapons, and you were ready to aim to kill.

“And what were you planning on doing if I got those memories back?” You questioned. “Were you hoping I’d just carry on with my life without giving a shit? You took two years of my life and kept it a secret! You took everything from me, Mom. You all did.” 

There was no mistaking the sound of her crying through the phone. You pulled your cell phone from your ear, letting the muffled sounds linger in static air. Your name floated through the receiver, and you slowly brought it back to your ear. Your mom's words mumbled together.

“…sorry, sweetie. I’m so—I’m so sorry. We should have told you sooner. We shouldn’t have…”

You tore the phone from your ear again and lifted your wine glass to your lips. The rich-bodied taste paired well with your resentment, the tinge of bitterness coating your tongue and poisoning your words.

“There’s a lot you should have done and said, but it’s too late now, isn’t it?” You raged. “You should have told me the truth the moment I woke up. You should have never let Bennett back into my life, and you should have never kept Joel a secret. I understand now why you all acted so weird around Joel in Boston. I understand why everyone was shoving it down my throat to tell him about the accident. You wanted me to be the one that took the fall when everything connected. I’m sure you’re so happy now that you’re free from all the secrets you’ve been hiding.”

“I just wanted you to be happy,” she sobbed. “We all did.”

“Happy?” you repeated. “I’ve been miserable for years. You all knew how Bennett treated me, and you let it happen! You made that decision, and now you have to live with it. You were worried you’d lose me? Well, congrats, Mom, you’ve lost me.”

You ended the call before she could utter another word and returned to your wine glass. Sitting at the dining table, surrounded by unfamiliar ghosts, you drank until the bottle ran empty. 

Light-headed and drunk, you staggered through dark hallways to your room. The world spun around you as you collapsed onto the bed, your body on an endless merry-go-round as you tried to shut your eyes. Even with an entire bottle of wine in your system, you still couldn’t sleep. You watched the ceiling fan rotate for hours, your head spinning in the same cadence. Around and around, your thoughts turned until nausea led you to the bathroom. 

You laid your head on the edge of the toilet seat, exhausted and defeated. You wanted to cry, but the tears never came. You wanted to scream, but you had no voice. All you had was a handful of anger and nowhere to place it. 

It took you three days to finally clean the mess inside your house. Your energy levels ran so low from work and parent-teacher conferences that you would just lay on the couch and stare at the ruined walls. Your fridge was empty, and nothing in your pantry had been touched aside from the aged bottles of wine you kept stored on a dark shelf. You weren’t the type to drink yourself into oblivion, but it had been your only comfort amid the heartbreak. You didn’t sleep much, either, and it began showing. Makeup no longer hid the dark circles sinking in beneath your eyes; you gave up trying to hide it. Your students slowly started to notice the shift in your mood as the week passed; their books were open and ready to read before you could even sit down. It was a nonverbal agreement between them and you; they kept their voices down, and you didn’t lash out. You never wanted to be the teacher who didn’t care about what they learned, but you didn’t even care about yourself right now.

But now it was the last day of conferences, and you had to see the person you hated most—the person who built up and tore down your happiness and trust. 

I love you.

You wished you could love the sound of those words. You wished you could hear them again in a different life and believe them. In whatever memories you lost, you knew Joel meant those words, and you knew you probably meant them, too. And the longer you thought about it, the more your heart shattered. It was all a lie.

The clock was nearing six o'clock when you finished your conference with Georgia and her parents. Of course, she got high accolades and praises, and you carried yourself as best as you could the entire time. With tight smiles and agreeing nods of your head, her family finally shuffled out. 

You tried your hardest to contain the emotions welling inside your chest. There had been nothing but a static numbness rolling through your veins the last several days, but any moment now, Joel would walk through your classroom door and tear off the bandaid, barely keeping your heart together. You sorted through papers on your desk, trying to busy yourself as you waited while cursing yourself for ever deciding to be a teacher. If you hadn't chosen this school, maybe you could have avoided meeting Joel—back then and now. You might have never met if you had chosen a different career path. If you never met, then—

A familiar voice said your name and roused you from your endless ‘what ifs.’ Your head snapped toward the door and saw Joel standing with Sarah at his side. He didn’t need to say anything else; he saw everything written on your face—the anger, the pain, the exhaustion. He saw right through your hard exterior—he always did. And you hated him all over again. 

“Hello, Sarah,” you greeted her with a tight smile. You kept your eyes below Joel’s neck when you greeted him. “Hello, Mr. Miller.”

You didn’t want to spend another second lost in the dark brown of his eyes, wondering about what could have happened if things had been different. You pulled Sarah’s report from your pile of papers and jotted down the list of what to talk about and how quickly you could sum it up. Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed something in Joel’s hand, his bruised knuckles squeezing it tight.

Sarah went to one of the desks, readying herself to sit down. You held out a hand to stop her, urging her to remain standing.

You started, “I’ll keep it short and sweet, so I don’t waste any of your time.”

“What happened to your hand?” Joel’s voice radiated around the room, the concerned tone vibrating through your body. 

You glanced at your hand and realized it was red and scabbed with cuts from cleaning the house—you hadn’t been particularly careful or safe when you picked up the broken pieces. You dropped your arms to your sides, keeping your features schooled and replacing any emotions with the professionalism you had mastered through the years. 

“Like I was saying.” You cleared your throat. “Sarah has done great on the units so far this year. She’s among the highest-scoring students in the class and did exceptionally well on our poetry unit. I do not doubt the rest of the year will be even greater academically for her.”

Sarah stood awkwardly between you and Joel, her teeth chewing into her bottom lip. Joel shifted beside her, his hands drawn behind his back, keeping whatever he held a secret. You looked over your paper again, skimming the words that had been pre-written weeks ago. 

“I have no concerns about Sarah or her capabilities in the class, so I think we should end it there,” you said. If this had been any other student, you would have spent more time talking them up and genuinely putting effort into the conference. But you wanted nothing more than to see them both walk out the door and leave.

Joel repeated your name, attempting to capture your attention. It worked, but not to his benefit.

“I am your daughter’s teacher, Mr. Miller,” you snapped. “Please address me correctly.”

You glared at him, finally meeting his eyes. He looked just as awful as you did. The glimmering amber of his eyes had dulled to a dark color you had never seen before, and his patchy beard was far past unkempt, the dark, wiry hairs traveling down his neck. Even his tan skin looked paler than you could recall. 

Good, you thought. You wanted Joel to suffer. 

“Miss Smith,” he tried again, dragging a hand down his face. “Can we just talk for a minute?”

“Unless you have a question about Sarah or the class material, there isn’t anything else to discuss,” you countered, clenching your jaw. 

Joel turned his head toward Sarah, giving her a brief nod. She slid her eyes to you again, their hazel-colored softness filled with concern. Before you could question it, she moved toward the door, leaving you alone with Joel faster than you could register. 

“Sarah!” You called, stomping to the door. 

She was already running down the hallway, curls bouncing around her head. 

Your body muscles tightened and contracted as you stood helplessly in the doorway. Joel’s warmth swarmed around you, even at the healthy distance he maintained. 

“Hey,” Joel said from behind you. 

You glanced back over your shoulder, watching as Joel brought forward the item he had hidden behind his back. It was a book. You recognized it immediately. Romeo and Juliet.

“Look, I just—.” He rubbed a hand over the back of his neck, his biceps flexing under the cotton sleeves of his shirt. “I just wanted to bring this to you. It’s yours. I kept it all these years after the accident. I don’t really know why. I mean, I do know why. It’s stupid, but it’s your book, and you deserve it back.”

“Oh.” You blinked up at him, not knowing how to respond.

“Still got all your notes and scribbles,” he sighed, handing it to you. “Used to lay up at night with it, readin’ what you wrote on the sides of the pages after the accident. Y’know, I already knew it was your favorite when I asked you. I just wanted to hear y’talk ‘bout it one more time. Y’used to talk my ear off ‘bout your favorite books.” He laughed at a memory you didn’t know existed. “Anyway, I won’t keep you any longer. Y’have a good day, Miss Smith.”

He placed the book in your hands, his body brushing your shoulder as he walked out the door. Words lodged in your throat, words you didn’t want to say. The anger you were carrying inside you was becoming unbearable, but in the same breath, you hurt for him just the same. 

Joel was long gone when the words finally came out, and you whispered thank you as you held the worn-down book between your hands. 

You half-considered throwing away the book when you got home, your hand hovering over the trash bin with the book grasped between your shaking fingers. There wasn’t an ounce of you that wanted to open it and see your writing. Joel had carried this with him for years, holding onto a secret only he could remember. He had read this play probably a thousand times before he had even asked about it on the soccer fields. The facade of ‘doing research’ was a lie; he only wanted to share a moment of the past with you. A moment you couldn’t remember and a moment he only wanted to relive, even for just a few seconds. And you did it. You gave him hope that his plan would work, never knowing the truth. 

You hated him. But it wasn’t enough hate to drown out the immense suffering of still falling in love. 

Walking to your closet, you found the darkest corner and buried the book deep into the shadows. You’d be ready to flip through the pages one day, but you needed time. 

Sitting back on your heels, you stared at the cuts along your hands and felt absolutely nothing. There was no more anger.

There was nothing.

[rileyglas]

The List ~Pt. 1 - Creation~

Alastor (Hazbin Hotel) x Reader

This is my first-time writing fanfic but I literally cannot get the stories out of my brain so…why not make everyone else suffer. This is part one of a story I’ve been rolling around some time. I feel setting a good foundation for the reader/main character is super important, so I PROMISE this story gets better. Be prepared for the usual angst, mystery (Alastor), sassiness (Lucifer), fluff, eventual smut (yes horny readers bear with me we need some plot), and of course 18+ because….it’s Hazbin what do you expect?

Summary: f!reader finds themselves in Hell. Unable to accept your horrible fate you make it a point to continue being a bright soul surrounded by the darkness of Hell. With some higher advice, you create a list of rules to live. A short list to keep out danger and continue helping the lower sinners of Pentagram City. It’s the ONLY way you can survive (right?). Your list begins to crumble when you start helping Lucifer’s daughter with some hotel and a dream to redeem the same sinners you want to protect.

**sentences in italics are internal thoughts of the reader

1.5k Words

Part 1 (You're on it!) Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5  Part 6 Part 7 Part 7.A Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12

Rumor was all sinners would spawn in hell with attributes related to their life and (untimely) death. Your gift power was proof of that.

“Everyone get inside! Come on before the exorcists see you.” You hurry the last of the smaller sinners inside a building. It kills you to see such fear from the souls. “Lock the door. I'll lure them away.”

How foolish you were. Somehow a heart of gold followed you to these depths after death...ironic how even the nicest people end up in hell. God really does have his favorites I suppose.

But that foolishness led you to the best thing to happen to you, so you thought. Dodging through the streets, maneuvering, anything to lead the "angels" away from even the worst of sinners. Cursing praying for their safety. It was only your second extermination, but you already caught onto their game. It was all too easy to get around their sloppiness. Needing a breather, you weave around some cars and dive behind a dumpster. Idiots can't even keep track of my thickass? Pathetic!

A few moments pass as it grows quiet. Your breath begins to steady when the softest whimper catches your attention. As quietly (and non-threatening) as possible, you turn the corner to approach a crying dark mass curled on the ground. Seeing their blood pooling sends your stomach into flips. Not another one. Fearing the worst you gently reach out. “Hey hey...shhh..." you utter, feeling her wince ever so slightly. "No don't panic I'm here to help. Where are you hurt?"

The young girl slowly uncrumples herself to show her wound...a massive "X" sliced hips to neck. It was so deep you couldn't believe she was still breathing let alone even moving. Fuck she's lost too much blood. "Come here let me try to stop the bleeding" you lied. You knew she had no chance. But your chest hurt at the thought of her dying (again) alone in some shit alley. With the last of her strength she curled into you, her white hair tickling your face. She had her textured locks pulled back tightly and black horns accenting the top of her head. Her tired red eyes relaxed, slowly closing as she leaned into you. Such a beautiful girl falling to such a terrible fate. With one hand on part of her wound, you used your other to softly stroke her head. “I'm so sorry young one...just breathe in and know you're not alone.” As her breathing shallows you gently kiss her forehead, bidding her soul a gentle goodbye.

The second your lips touch her skin, pure fire floods through your veins. Every nerve in your body feeling ripped apart. You spasm from the pain, clenching onto the girls now limp body. Just when the pain starts misting your vision you see flashes of...pink? "What the fuck!!" You grit through your teeth. What felt like hours of pain was merely a few seconds and it quickly dissipated from your body as did the pink light. Shit shit shit, there’s no way the exorcist didn’t hear OR SEE that! You stay perfectly still...listening to the silence with your mind reeling over what just happened.

A gasp breaks the deafening silence, pulling you back to reality. The young girl jolted out of your arms, gasping in as much air as she could. Looking down you notice her wounds were gone, only dry blood and tattered cloth remained from the laceration. You look at each other in panic and shock.

After inspecting her stomach she snaps out of her daze, remembering you two were still not safe.

"It's too dangerous to stay out here. Come with me - we aren’t far from the safehouse. I am sure my mother will want to meet you."

You follow without hesitation. Trust has always been a weakness. As you make your way through the city, she explains how she was out collecting angelic weapons with her sister when they got separated. After getting cornered she just accepted her fate...then you found her. "The name is Clara by the way. Clara Carmine. I usually just go by CC though."

You never intended to get into the Overlord game. You were merely trying to make the best, quiet life in hell if that was even possible. Guess things change when you save the daughter of Hells most prestigious Overlord. Who could say no to being taken in and protected by THE Carmilla Carmine.

Carmilla immediately began preparing you after hearing of the power you possessed. The power to heal with touch...of course it’s not that easy…it required pure intensions, coming from a place of love. Who the hell (pun intended) wrote this cruel joke for a sinner? How did the lowest of low get given such power just a few short years after arriving? It was your most precious secret. It had to be. If anyone of ill will found out - and come on, it's Hell - your soul would have been the most sought after in the pride ring. You wouldn’t last a day. Carmilla was indebted to you for saving Clara, so she made a deal to give you protection and mentorship as repayment. The first of many deals you’d make in Hell, growing the power you held.

In the years you've been under Carmilla's watch, you created a short list of rules to keep yourself out of harm’s way -

1. Never trust another Overlord

2. Never tell a soul what (or how much) power you have

3. Never bring anyone too close

4. Never let your weaknesses show

It was a simple enough list that had worked for you so far.

You chose to make deals with those who needed protection or help while navigating the dangerous afterlife. In your deals each soul was bound to secrecy as to who you were and what you provided. Contract details and fine print were your specialty. Your soul count was the highest Carmilla had ever seen for someone so new, so merciful. She would often mention only one other sinner ever rose the ranks as quick though his methods were…less than savory. She never bothered to say who. Every Overlord meeting the rumors spread of some "Saving Grace" sinner making their way into powerful ranks. A shadow giving vile hope. But just as quick as those rumors appeared - they were put to rest when no new faces ever appeared. Of course you were there - you needed to attend for information just as much as the next guy, but you never sat as an Overlord. Carmilla granted you a place off to the side as "the help" to serve tea or make notes as needed. No one ever batted an eye to someone considered just a worker bee in Carmilla's hive.

Every meeting was the same, though it seemed unease was rising after each extermination. Six years had passed since you fell into this hellhole (har har). Another extermination, another meeting. Sitting in your designated corner, you twirl your pen as the Overlords began taking their seats. Might as well be invisible - but you preferred it that way. As your mind slightly wonders to less important things, the quiet buzz of conversations around you fades away from your ears.

"—yes I know I’ve been absent some time. I'm sure you've ALL been wondering!"

Your attention snaps back with the sound of this charming new voice. The demon was dressed to the nines - red suit jacket, gloves, freshly pressed slacks. Your already preoccupied mind raced. Who the hell is that? Where has he been? Why does he have that shit eating grin?

He must hold some power to be sitting here after all these years…

"Not really. But welcome back in any case."

That dismissal from Camilla was enough for you to put aside any questions you had of the demon. You knew this meeting would be tense. Can't afford distractions when you needed to be all ears. As you began writing you felt something in the pit of your stomach. Was someone staring at you? You try to shake the feeling when Velvette made her grand entrance. With a sigh and eye roll you set aside your notebook. God damn this woman, no respect, no couth. Gonna be a long one today.

The sinking feeling returns, this time you catch the culprit. The (new to you) demon Overlord is staring at you as if you’re the only one in the room. You make eye contact hoping he moves his gaze, but it only fuels the intensity on you. That smile never faltering. Your ears ring and static pricks your ear drums. Can I fuckin help you sir? Wait no, you're just the help. Lower sinners would never even dream of speaking to an Overlord like such. Thankfully the eye contact breaks when Velvette tosses the head of an exorcist on the table.

Ah I suppose this will be quite a fascinating meeting…

[dancingastralwitch]

A Palestinian man is asked in an interview by a white woman if he condemns Hamas while his people are being slaughtered in the open, and HE is the one condemned when he yells that it's injustice to insulate that his people deserve to be murdered, because "Hamas chose this."

A black woman is attacked first in a fight and SHE is the bad guy when she strikes back, she is the one whose face is plastered all over social media to be condemned and shamed for "aggression."

Two sisters are appropriately reacting to their oppressors by ripping off posters promoting their propaganda, and THEY are shamed and attacked for their lack of politeness when their people are being killed for existing.

An American democrat watches her colleagues cheer on genocide and ethical cleansing, the murder of children and the rape of women and the slaughter of families, and SHE is the one censored for speaking out in defense of them, despite her grief of losing family members.

Zionists are not condemned for enjoying the thought of children being killed, for calling Palestinians "animals" or saying Gaza should be "turned into a parking lot", Israeli doctors can get away with demanding that Palestinians, HUMAN BEINGS, should be murdered, that their only remaining hospital should be crushed.

They are not condemned for saying they wanted nuclear weapons unleashed on Gaza, they are not condemned for the imprisonment and torture of children, for desecrating dead Palestinians' corpses and mauling their bodies, for mocking Muslim Palestinians by rubbing their bullets against pig's skin before shooting them, for bombing Palestinian churches, for bombing universities, for shutting electricity from Gaza, cutting Palestinians from food and water, not letting them access to aid, for bombing CANCER hospitals and CHILDRENS HOSPITALS, for turning the sky of Gaza RED from explosions, for killing enough students that the entire school year was canceled, for annihilating families, for attacking Jewish people in Jerusalem, for cutting dead fetuses off dead mothers, for STEALING THEIR SKIN AND ORGANS and using them for their benefit, for forcing CHILDREN to hold a press conference to say that hey, they want to live.

Insinuating that this is about religion is the basis of Zionism. 60 members of Hamas were killed, and 10,500 civilians killed, 4000 of which are children. Over 800 bloodlines erased. Israel says they aim for "damage, not accuracy." Implying this is about Hamas is lies.

When white people in power tell you from their air-conditioned studios this is Israel defending itself, refuse to let Palestinian journalists explain things happening from their point of view, watch those journalists lose their entire families for speaking about what's happening to them, demonize Arabs who rage about injustice, ask Palestinians grieving if they condemn Hamas, know this is propaganda.

You shouldn't need them to tell you they're parroting lies to you. Their lies kill people. Their lies destroy people. Their apologies are insincere and their "sympathy" is limited only to those who look like them. It is unjust. It is cruel.

If I was were to narrate to you every atrocity Israel commited that I am aware of, I would never stop typing.

[lovexjoe]

In Love With A Stripper Part 2

warning: alcohol, mention of death and language

Armando pulls the car to the back, taking in her attire: he smiles on the inside. She looks beautiful like this, not that bullshit she’s forced to wear. He gets out and opens the door for her. Thanking him, she mentally gives out one more prayer that this man isn’t going to kill her and hops in.

She was shocked cause she could never imagine being in a car like this, it would take her a lifetime to even buy this. The ride was silent, as she looks out the window taking in the scenery of Mexicos city lights. She’s been here on this side of town before with Andres, but she just couldn’t remember exactly. His right hand reaches for hers, she could have sworn her heart skipped a beat. His hand much larger than hers, engulfed her small one with warmth. She intertwine their fingers together and he rubs her hand with his thumb.

She’s really in the car with a drug dealer who could potentially make her disappear off the face of the earth. Yet she felt the most safest in his presence. The car pulls into a gated mansion, he spoke to the gate to confirm his ID and they headed inside.

“Do you trust me?” He looks over at her and she looks back not saying a word. Just looking at him with those doe eyes. She gives his hand a squeeze confirm that she’s okay but he knew he wouldn’t get an answer so easily. He hands his key off to a guard, opening her door for her and leading the way up the stairs. This is where he lives?! Why not just stop drug dealing and retire? He is set for fucking life. This could have potentially been her life with Andres if he was connected with the right people. She pushes the thought away cause it’ll only sour the mood.

They entered his bedroom and it was exactly the way she thought it was gonna be. Crispy clean and all black. There wasn’t a single spect of color in this room: dark and depressing. They sit outside on his balcony enjoying the city lights as they pour up a drink. He breaks the silence first.

“What’s your name?”

“You know my name…..Luna.” She takes a sip of her drink. The mixture of rum and coke easing her nerves.

“Nah that’s not you mami. The real you.” He turns his body to her, giving her all his attention. Her eyes could easily captivate someone yet here she was feeling hot and shy under his gaze.

“Xiomara…” she sips her drink again, numbing her nerves.

“Es bonita, mami” he says giving her a smile, first one of the night and it took all her suspicions away.

“He smiles! So you’re not gonna kill me, thank god!” She puts her hand on her heart and lets out a joking breath. For the first time in a long time he lets out an honest laugh. He’s never brought anyone back home, he’s always had his fun outside and returned to his empty room. But her, for some reason he wants to do things to her but he wanted more. But he can’t want more. This was for one night he reminded himself.

“Tell me about yourself” She takes in his question, wondering if she should be an open book or pick out things that were true and fill the rest in with white lies. She probably wasn’t going to see him ever again so why not?

“I came here two years ago with my boyfriend, he was a drug dealer. I didn’t know much but he had food on the table and we were gonna build a life here. He got killed during a deal gone bad and I-I had to verify the body at the scene because his mom couldn’t go….” She takes another sip. The alcohol causing her mouth to vent all the feelings she’s been holding in for a year now.

“A month after Andres passing I found out I was pregnant. It would have probably been smarter to just not continue with the pregnancy but he’s the last thing I have letting me know that Andres was real. Things have been hard so I strip to save pay the bills and my day job helps me save” Armando’s jaw clenched at the mention of her late boyfriend’s name.

“I’m sorry that you’re going through this.”

“Don’t do that….dont pity me. It sucks but there’s someone out there having it much worse than me.” He nods his head raising his glass to cheers to that.

“Tell me about you….or whatever you’re comfortable with.”

Just one night right? He wasn’t going to see her again and it’s not like anyone would believe her anyway.

“My mom’s in prison right now. She gave birth to me in prison, I was raised there till I was 6 and then they sent me off with someone to the cartel. Here I am….” He sighs and gulps the rest of his drink.

“See? I told you somebody else has it worse than me. Thank you for that.” Laughter filled the room, she notices the crinkle in his eyes when he smiles. He looked much younger when he let some happiness enter his empty heart.

“Armando? Why am I here? If you wanted to have sex…we cou-“

She stops talking when he stands up pulling her close, his hand caressing her cheek. She doesn’t know what he wants. He knows what he wants but he’s not going to admit because it’s insane. They just met.

“I can tell that this isn’t something you do. And after hearing what you been through…I want you but I’m not touching you until you beg me to….” The way he’s looking at her like he wants to devour her, she so badly wants to give in. He picks her up and carries her to his bed. She sits at the edge of his bed while he picks out some clothes for her.

Yes Armando Aretas a fucking cartel is picking out clothes for a stripper he’s beyond fond of. Boy would his mom be having a fit if she could see this. She changes in the bathroom, looking at herself in the mirror and smiling. He’s definitely not what she thought he would be. She leans her head down to the black shirt, taking in his divine scent. Once she reenters the room, Tom and Jerry reruns were on the tv and he looked too cute under the covers.

Shirtless…..

How was she going to control herself? She had to or else she would look to easy. She can’t and she won’t!

She got in bed, keeping a certain distance between them. His hand trailing across her exposed skin on her inner thigh. She looked better in his clothing than he did.

“I don’t bite mami, come here” he pulls her close, his hand slipping under the shirt and resting on her stomach. He places a kiss on her temple as they both watched the tv till they fell asleep.

~~~~~~~

The sun creeps through his window, causing Xio to walk up in bed alone. The tv still running some outdated cartoons. Her bedside had roses and a letter.

“I had some business to take care of. There’s a driver and duffel bag waiting for you. I will see you soon - Love Armando”

She heads into the restroom and where she had a brand new toothbrush and a toiletry bag filled with products: expensive ones too waiting for her. This man really had everything accessible for him. She started to wonder how many girls he did this for. Looking at her phone, she realizes she doesn’t have time to wait around as she needs to grab Ricky from his grandma’s. She hurries up changing into her clothes from last night and heading downstairs. Did she keep his shirt? Yup, something to remember him in case she doesn’t hear from him again.

The driver hands her the small duffel bag and she gets into the car and giving him directions to her house. Reminiscing about the little commentary they had while watching looney tunes. How it felt being held by him all night. This was it for them. She doesn’t think he’ll reach out. He knows where she works but….maybe she’s just overthinking.

Andres’ mom sent her a message letting her know that she will stay with Ricky today if she wanted some time to herself. She sighs with relief, she could use a few hours to rejuvenate since she’s teaching again tomorrow. As the driver drops her off, she strolls inside and setting the bag down. She took a look inside and

Wow….she had enough money to stop stripping for a while….

The bag had a small pocket on the side so she decided to open it and what she noticed wasn’t something she was happy about.

She lets out a cry….

She pulls out Andres cross necklace …..

Taglist: @yeahnohoneybye @cardi-bre91 @onlysarang @romanreignsluver1 @minwn

@armandosbabymama @dyttomori @bbyplutosblog @vergilnelosparda @believeinthefireflies95 @cardi-bre91

[phantom-dc]

Double Jason AU?

Jason, fresh after the whole "2 Jokers/Bruce practically lobotomizing him" is sent back in time to before he made himself known to Batman. He decides that since a reguler crimelord gets beat up less by Bats then his failure Robin, Jason keeps his identity secret. But this presents a problem:

Jason worries that Bruce will find out that his coffin is empty, and will come looking. Talia offers an unusual solution: A cloned 15-year-old body to put back in. Exept that Jason is not one to stay down & the body wakes up.

Talia is worried, but Jason is a quick thinker; and has Talia present the clone as the original Jason, claiming she revived him as a gift to her beloved. Bruce is extatic and let's him be Robin again. Tim initially decides to step down, but later steps back in as Black Bird, unable to say goodbye to the vigilante life. (Little Jason is Jaylad for easier reading)

It's around this time that Red Hood becomes known in Gotham. Batman only knows him as a new contender in Gothams underworld, but the guy isn't a big problem (since Jason didn't do his whole "choose me or Joker" plan he managed to keep low on Batman's radar, tho still on it). Sometimes he helps the Bats out, even jokes a bit with the younger heroes but stays far away from Batman.

Then Joker decides that he can hurt Batman again by actually killing Robin (there is no way he's letting that birdie live, not when Batman got so deliciously violent after being "nearly" killed) and kidnaps Jaylad. The only reason the boy lived? Because Red Hood saved him and beat the Joker to death, Batman had to save him with the Lazarus Pit in the Batcave. Nightwing & Blackbird are gratefull, but Bats is furious that Red Hood killed and attacks him. In the fight, Red Hood loses his helmet and Bruce recognizes him. He looks a bit older, has some scars, a white streak & green tinted eyes, but that is definitly Jason.

Jason, not wanting to be "the failure Robin" again, lies that he himself is a clone, a testrun of the aging process for "a different project". Bruce asks what project & knowing he shouldn't tell Bruce about Damian yet, Jason admits to a thought that had been haunting him since Jaylad woke up: What would Bruce do if things had played out differently at the warehouse. It works, and while not coming out unscathed, Jason escapes. Bruce believes Jason is the evil clone, and Jaylad is the good original.

Oddly enough, a few weeks later Red Hood gets a visitor. It's Robin. He at first wants to fight Jason to "save" him, but realises that Jason has no intention of that. Evil clones don't usually offer pancakes. They like the same stuff, and slowly develop this odd big/little brother dynamic. Big J & Little J manage to keep it a secret for a while, until Tim finds out. He was curious where Jaylad snuck off to & followed him.

Honsetly thats it so far, not sure where to take this from here. Jason still became the Outlaws,and now there is a magic Robin again. How will Damian react & will the fam ever find out that the Red Hood is the original? How will they react when they realize Jason rather stayed dead then become part if the family again?

[grapejuicestyless]

So Long, London

Harry Styles x fem!reader

Summery: Years and years of love and affection couldn’t amount to the floods of tears that flooded the once prosperous city you danced through.

From a young age I’ve always wondered what death feels like. Those who have experienced it aren’t here to tell us their stories. Would it hurt, could I feel it clenching my heart in its dark grasp or would I sigh in my sleep and let the darkness take me with no sense of slipping away.

As I walk down the old roads I used to dance on, I understand the concept of it better now that my heals hit the concrete like bullet shells falling to the floor. The vibrant red brick seemed duller nowadays, moss covering the once new white concrete holding all these places I often visited together.

To me, death wasn’t the last breath of air in my lungs escaping, it wasn’t the melodic beeping of the machines beside me in a hospital room, but something that drowned me from the inside out.

His smell is stuck to all my clothes, his smile carved into the back of my phone case from the polaroids of us I kept for keepsakes for years. I can still hear his voice, it’s all around me in the people passing by on the street, the same accent fresh in my mind, his last words knives in my heart.

He swore that he loved me, but where were the clues? I died at the alter waiting for the proof. His green eyes flashing with mischief as he lied to my heart to keep me close, his bluest days tainting my mind, my endless sympathy forcing me to stay even with the gun stuck against the back of my head.

I don’t remember the end, only the feeling of my spine splitting under the weight of his body as I pulled him in closer each time he slipped out of reach. Only the fading of his smile as I gave up trying to make him laugh after so many failed attempts. The heart was dead, I stopped CPR after all, there was no use. Our love was long dead, lying buried with our faltering spirits. He killed me when he killed our relationship, two graves dug with one gun.

He swore that he loved me, and his face looked just like the man who said it to me and meant it, so I believed him as he led me down the street with his hands in his pockets.

For so long, I loved london. My clothes out of place, made for the states and carried across to my home where he laid in the dimming light of our sunroom. For so long, I held him and guided his heart to mine, I let him take parts of me I’ll never be able to rebuild. And I’m angry that I gave him all that youth for free, but I’m just mad as hell because I loved this place.

And he claims I abandoned the ship, he writes it in the songs on his albums and sends the troops to my front door, breaking down the home I just rebuilt but they’ll never know how I was going down with it, my white knuckle dying grip holding onto his quiet resentment.

But truly how much sad did he think I had left in me to give? How much tragedy? Just how low did he believe I could before I would self-implode, waiting for his grays and blacks to turn back into the vibrancy I fell so deeply in love with.

And as I walk these streets, his scent fading from my clothes, I can feel the color coming back to my face, and I feel bad for anyone who stops me on the streets and asks me to grab a coffee, because the hole in my heart is black and it’s pulling in anything in it’s path, it’s destructive and dangerous and it acts a lot like him.

He’ll find someone, my stitches will come undone and my heart will die as I lay silently on the empty floor of the apartment I never thought I would see again.

I have to leave, I know it even in this post-death mist. I am a ghost walking down these once euphoric streets we walked hand in hand across. I can’t let myself rot like he did, I won’t let myself get left behind like he intended.

And I’m just mad as hell because I once loved this place.

But for now, it’s so long, london.

[skrrri4theo]

pairing: theo x fem!reader

genre: smut 🔞 (mdni)

warnings: fwb to ???, dom!theo, unprotected sex, theo and reader get a little drunk but they kinda have a high alcohol tolerance, blowjob, a bit of choking.

summary: one night, theo finally recognizes that he has feelings for you after having the best orgasm of his life with you, but...will it turn out well?

theo lets out a groan as he lies down on the cold floor of his room. he had just finished doing a random workout routine he found on youtube just to kill time while waiting for you to arrive at the apartment that you both had mutually decided to share. it was the best option for both of you for two main reasons: the first was that it would be easier for you to maintain yourselves if you split the household expenses, and the second, and even more important, to spend more time together. there was no denying the fact that you loved being with each other, doing whatever as the best friends you had become, and also the sex between you both was phenomenal, but it was just that...right?

theo was still lying on the floor, trying to steady his breathing, with his forearm covering his eyes and his mind drifting among the many thoughts that had been tormenting him lately. these thoughts all boiled down to one thing, or rather one person: you.

it wasn't that he was bothered by the fact that you were on his mind—not at all. after all, you were his best friend. what "bothered" him was the way he thought about you. the way he remembered every single detail about you, even the most trivial and insignificant ones. the way your laughter, your voice, even your moans made his heart race ridiculously fast inside his chest. the way he felt so empty when you weren't by his side, or how he had become the #1 fan of listening to your stories no matter how boring they were for others.

"why can't i stop thinking about you? why do i have to do it this way?" he asks himself as he sighs and moves his arm away from his face. he really didn't know the reason why it was specifically you that was hanging around in his head? or maybe he was so stubborn as to not want to accept the fact that perhaps he had broken your mutual agreement of "no feelings, just sex"? whatever it was, he didn't want to think about it right now.

he closed his eyes, and a few seconds later, he heard the front door open and then close. moments later, some knocking on his bedroom door made him startle a bit. "y/n? the door is open, come in" he says aloud, knowing it's you. then you peeked your head out and smiled tenderly at your friend, uttered a soft "hi" and then entered the room fully, your hands behind your back holding the reason why you had arrived later than usual.

theo propped himself up on his elbows to observe you. you were wearing a tight black skirt that reached just above the middle of your thighs and a white strappy top that resembled a corset, with lace details that deliciously accentuated your tits, those that drove your best friend so crazy. in fact, everything about you made him lose his mind, from your hair, your shoulders, your boobs, your abdomen, your waist, your ass, god, that ass was his biggest obsession and downfall. he loved how it felt under his hands, its size, its shape, your legs, everything about you. not to mention your face, your expressions when you laughed, cried, got angry, or your expression of total pleasure when he fucked you mercilessly in any corner of the apartment. theo bit his lip as his gaze roamed over every part of your body with total brazenness, stopping only when his eyes met yours. you let out a snort.

"what's so funny?" he asks with genuine curiosity.

"are you done eye-fucking me yet or do you need more time?" you replied somewhat amused and watched as he framed a sly smile on his face that could make anyone weak in the knees.

"baby, believe me, if you give me more time i'm gonna do more than just fuck you with my eyes, is it my fault you look so sexy right now?"

you decided to ignore his comment (and your burning cheeks) and shrugged, then you slowly approached him and then sat down on the floor next to him and he sat up to be in the same position as you.

"what you got there by the way?" he asked glancing behind your back, but you were quicker to pull out the bottle of wine, today you wanted to have a good time with your dear best friend and fuck buddy.

"tada! look what i bought. tell me i'm not the best friend anyone could have?" you asked, battering your eyelashes at him and expecting a "yes" in response. theo took the wine bottle, admiring it for a moment before answering your question.

"yes, y/n, you're the best for remembering your best friend's favorite wine brand"

best friend. his own words echoed in his head and, inevitably, the smile on his face faded gradually as his thoughts grew louder.

"hey...did something happen? you were gone all of a sudden" you asked with concern, placing a hand on his shoulder.

theo snapped out of his mini trance and looked at you intently, finally saying everything was fine. he didn't understand why he suddenly got bummed out since, in the end, he was nothing more than that, your best friend...with whom you occasionally shared orgasms.

"alright, i'll go get a couple of glasses, i'll be right back" you said, but he stopped you with a hand on your wrist "no need, we can drink from the bottle" he gives you a smile and you nod in agreement.

"and...may i know what you were doing before i arrived?" you asked, watching as theo opened the bottle, the way his veins stood out prominently from the effort making you swallow and wet your lips. he interrupted your perverse thoughts with his answer.

"just a workout routine i saw on youtube, nothing special" he said casually, taking a sip from the bottle after uncorking it, then passing it to you to do the same. you took it and drank a long sip without taking your eyes off his.

if there was one thing you loved the most about your best friend, it was undoubtedly his eyes. his gaze so commanding and intense that it could make anyone give in to him. you loved how his eyes seemed to transmit what words couldn't, you loved how his gaze would pierce into you and begin to undress you and devour you with it, shit, you loved how his eyes sought yours in the most intimate moments, when he was sunk into you, when he was between your legs, when his cock was touching the back of your throat, you loved all of that...and you loved him. it wasn't something you could deny, at this point of your "situationship" it was impossible for you not to feel more than a simple attraction and friendship for the one you called your best friend, you didn't know for sure if he was experiencing something like that too, but if that wasn't the case, it wasn't that you would mind having what you had with him forever.

a snap of fingers made you wake up from your trance, theo had his hand in front of your face and when you turned to see him, he had a mocking gesture in his.

"damn, i know you love my lips, but that much? you stared at them for like a minute straight without even blinking" he said before chucking. your cheeks tinged with a subtle red and you rolled your eyes at his egocentrism, but you didn't deny it, as it wasn't a lie.

approximately two hours passed, the bottle of wine was empty on the floor, neither of you realized at what point the time had passed because between laughter, chats and flirting, you lost track of it.

you were lying on theo's lap (who seemed unaffected by the alcohol) while he played with strands of your hair and looked at you attentively as you hummed a melody.

"what song is that?" he asks "i don't know" you laugh a bit "i think i'm a little drunk and right now i don't remember" you pouted.

he found you adorable and smiled. he stopped caressing your hair to focus entirely on your face. the way your eyes looked up at him from below had him engrossed. they were so beautiful that he could stare into them for hours and get lost in them. his gaze then shifted to your nose, which he found to be the cutest and most endearing feature about you. after a while, his eyes lingered on your lips, the ones he loved to kiss and feel all over his body, the ones he yearned for day and night, the ones he loves to have and feel around him...shit, he needed to control his thoughts.

unconsciously, he runs his thumb over them, tracing the outline of your lower lip, feeling its softness, and then slides it into your mouth. he bites his lip and takes a deep breath when he feels you sucking on it and your tongue playing with it.

"fuck, y/n" he whispers, to which you respond with a "mhm?" accompanied by an innocent expression on your face that drives him crazy, he removes his finger from your mouth and his hand now goes to your neck to squeeze it slightly, you gasp.

"you love to provoke me, don't you?" he says a little close to your face so as not to miss any expression you make, "maybe" you reply and smile provocatively before sitting up, ending upon your calves.

"taeng...i need you" you let him know, running your hand up and down his thigh desperately and with a pout formed on your lips, theo can't resist and kisses you, you reciprocate his kiss in the same desperate way as you move closer to his body and run your hand over his boner above his pants, he lets out a sigh, grabbing your hand and applying more pressure on his bulge, you lower your gaze toward it and biting your lip, you look him in the eyes.

"i'm feeling so horny, taeng, i need to choke on your cock" you said without any shame and pressing his dick harder. he hums and smiles mischievously at you, then grabs a handful of your hair in his hand and pulls you to his face, speaking dangerously close.

"and what are you waiting for, doll?" he asks and his gaze falls on your lips that were red and swollen due to the intense makeout from a few moments ago, "stop talking and put that pretty little mouth of yours to work" and without further ado, you grabbed the elastic of his pants along with his boxers and pulled them down, theo lifted his hips a little to make it easier for you to undress him, you licked your lips as you saw his hard cock pop out and land on his abdomen, his red tip already spurting pre-cum.

you didn't hesitate to wrap your hand around it, giving it a gentle squeeze that made theo throw his head back and moan, that prompted you to move your hand up and down, not before spitting some of your saliva on it. the expressions of pleasure on your best friend's face were a total delight, you loved how his adam's apple went up and down and his soft gasps faltered as you increased the speed of your hand on his member; this man was a god at his finest.

"a–ah, y/n, use your mouth, you said you would" he looked at you pleading "please, suck me off" you clenched around nothing at his request and decided to obey, getting on your knees without stopping your ministrations on his dick, him following with his eyes every move you made, you leaned your torso down and started kissing his length, starting from the tip all the way to the base, occasionally giving him little licks.

theo's moans were soon heard, he was stroking your hair softly, enjoying the sensation of your tongue running all over his cock and each of the veins that were visible on it, squeezing his eyes and lips when you ran it over his sensitive tip and stopped there for a while to draw circles on it.

you were so immersed in it that you were surprised to feel a slap on your ass. you whimpered and squeezed his cock in response. he hissed, and the same hand that had spanked you was now holding a fistful of your hair tightly to make you look at him.

"i know what you're doing, stop teasing me and put it in your mouth for fuck's sake", you couldn't even react to his words because he guided your face towards his dick, grabbing it by the base and brushing the tip against your lips.

"open" he said in a demanding tone, his husky voice making you wet your panties even more. you obeyed and he let out the most delicious moan when his cock finally made its way into your mouth. not wanting to waste another second, you started sucking it and bobbing your head up and down, slow and controlled. theo was addicted to your blowjobs...and to you, but you didn't need to know that, right?

you began to increase the speed of your movements while helping yourself with your hands, at times trying to take it all the way down your throat. gagging and wet sounds filled the room along with your best friend's moans and grunts.

"yes–fuck, just like that, oh my god" he closed his eyes and threw his head back, enjoying what you were doing to him, "shit, why do you have to be so good?" he managed to say without his voice breaking from the pleasure, and you responded with a muffled moan. then he realized that he didn't want anyone else to have you this way, nor did he want you to make anyone else feel this way, he wanted you all to himself. maybe it was selfish, but at this point, he didn't care.

just thinking that there was a possibility that someone other than him might have you made his blood boil within his veins, something that honestly surprised him since he had never experienced such a thing as "jealousy" before with someone else, which at this moment his own thoughts were generating in him. he then leans against the wall behind him, and with one hand on the back of your neck and your hair tangled in the other, he moves your head up and down on his cock, caring little if you can't breathe, or if you gagged each time the tip touched the back of your throat, or the tears that threatened to spill from your eyes. you could only grip his thighs and let him use you at his whim. maybe he was being a bit rough and harsh with you, but you honestly loved it.

you heard him mutter something under his breath that you couldn't understand because of the dirty sounds his cock was making as it fucked your mouth, but you didn't pay it any mind.

theo lets out a deep, rough moan that sends shivers down your spine "fuck, wait," he tells you as he stops the movements of your head "i don't wanna cum yet" his heavy breathing and the way his jaw was clenched indicated he was close "i need to fuck you" he pulls you closer to his face and run his tongue over your lips, tasting his own essence in the process "and i need you to fuck me" you whispered with a sensual and a pleading tone.

both of you got up and made your way to the bed between kisses and groping. he laid you down on the bed, and his kisses moved from your mouth to your neck, where he left visible marks. you both had agreed not to leave evidence of what you did behind closed doors, after all, only the two of you knew. you wanted to scold him for that, but the only thing coming out of your mouth were small moans of pleasure. even so, you managed to say "you seem a bit possessive today" while he continued to leave wet kisses all over your neck and collarbones "is that a bad thing?" he asked, very close to your ear, taking the opportunity to bite your earlobe.

and...no, it wasn't bad, in fact you didn't dislike it at all, but of course you wouldn't admit that out loud, so instead of responding, you took his hand and directed it under your panties, making him feel how wet and needy you were, you moaned from the contact and watched him lower his gaze to where his hand was, he licked his lips as his fingers moved, enjoying the slippy sensation of your pussy.

"god, you're wetter than ever," he looked into your eyes and inserted a finger inside you, causing you to gasp and tighten around him "and as tight as always" he added a second finger, moving them in and out of you at a steady rhythm. it felt good, but nothing compared to the feeling of being filled by his pretty cock.

"taeng, please...i can't take it anymore," you whined "i need you to put it in me now" you knew he couldn't resist your pleas, especially when you made that slutty face, hungry for his dick.

"i love hearing you beg for my cock, you want it that much, doll?" a smug smile appeared on his face as he held his still-hard cock by the base and began stroking it in front of you.

"hm yes, i need it deep inside me" you bent your legs and spread them apart, running your panties to the side, showing him where you wanted him. theo almost drooled at the sight you provided "i want you to fuck me 'til i forget my own name" and you rubbed your fingers in your own wetness. theo exclaimed a "fuck" and decided not to waste any more time. he placed one hand on your inner thigh while the other grabbed his cock and torturously slid it over your folds, drawing random shapes on your clit with the tip. oh, he loved teasing you.

"you want me to go crazy, don't you?" you shot him a frustrated look "what are you waiting–oh fuckkk!" you couldn't even finish the sentence because theo interrupted you by shoving his cock completely inside you, and without waiting for you to adjust to the sensation, he started ramming you brutally against the mattress, his hands squeezing the back of your thighs so hard that his fingers would surely be marked on them.

"you wanted this so fucking bad, huh?" he spat, wrapping his hand around your neck and then lowering his face to the level of yours to whisper into your lips, "now take it" he bit your lower lip with some force before releasing it, you couldn't hold back and moaned against his mouth, your eyes rolled back as theo freed your breasts from your pretty blouse and started sucking on your hard nipples, straightening up a bit only to take off his shirt and return to them, nibbling on the rest of your tits.

"hmm, they're so perfect," you blushed at his comment, he was being too flattering "i love them" he finished saying before pulling away from them and grabbing your waist to keep fucking you hard, both of your moans gretting louder. you delighted in the view of his torso with a light sheen of sweat, the delicious expression on his face reflecting pure pleasure, with his eyebrows furrowed, his lips slightly parted allowing you to hear his groans and sighs, his long, silky hair sticking to his forehead from the sweat. at the sight, you couldn't help but squeeze your walls around him, causing him to let out a loud moan.

"d–don't do that", you ignored him and did it again, both of you moaning at the same time. he then stopped his thrusts, staying inside you. "fuck, i almost came" he said in a low voice, breathing even more heavily. you'd be lying if you said you weren't close to coming as well.

"and why did you stop?" you asked, another pout appearing on your face as you caressed his arms, "i didn't want to do it in this position" he replied as he pulled out of you and chuckled at the confusion on your face "i want you to ride me, baby" then he lay down with his back against the bed and patted his thighs, giving you the invitation to come to him, you stripped off your skirt and panties and he did the same with his pants and underwear, without wasting another second you positioned yourself on top of him, with your legs on either side of his body, you took his cock and ran the tip along your folds before slowly sitting down on it, you both cursed, you for feeling full of him again and him for feeling the warmth of your tight pussy.

"shittt, you feel so good, y/n" he praises you, holding your waist with both hands. you start moving your hips up and down, with your hands resting on his chest to help you go faster and faster. you stop for a second when your best friend pulls your blouse over your head to take it off, leaving you both completely naked. his hands instantly go to your tits, squeezing them and making circles on your nipples with his thumbs, enjoying the sounds coming out of your mouth and your ecstatic expression. now your hips were moving in circles and you felt his cock vibrating inside you as he let out growls that only made your pussy get incredibly wetter.

"ahh, y/n, you're gonna drive me crazy if you keep moving like that" he was able to say without his voice coming out choppy and with his hands gripping your hips too tightly. theo looked at your figure on top of him; your body all sweaty with your hair messy, your breasts swaying to the rhythm of your movements, your look of pure lust, your flushed cheeks and your lower lip caught between your teeth. definitely a sight worthy of a postcard, a sight he would never tire of admiring, a sight he would hate to share with anyone else. he didn't want anyone else to see you the way he sees you, he couldn't bear it...not anymore.

he needed to make you his, to make you feel his, so he took your arms and pulled you towards him to kiss you with an intensity and desperation that was hard for you to match. theo planted his feet on the mattress, grabbed you by the waist and began to pound into you frantically from below. you audibly gasped at the new rhythm and your mouth hung open, but no sound came out. you lifted yourself off his chest and turned to look at your best friend, his gaze burning into you. it was so laden with desire and another emotion you couldn't decipher.

"fuuckk, it feels so good, taeng, don't you dare to–ahh, fuck–stop now" you warn him with your arms trembling on his chest, trying to stay upright, "i'm not planning on doing it, angel" your heart skipped a beat hearing him call you by that nickname, and you inevitably blushed even more than you already were. you just hoped he hadn't noticed.

you lay completely against his chest and buried your face in the crook of his neck, trying to muffle your moans that were turning into screams. the hands that were gripping your waist made their way to your ass and squeezed it as theo impossibly increased the speed with which he fucked you, his pelvis slamming into yours at an unrestrained pace.

"fuckfuckfuck keep going, mmhgg" you felt like you were in heaven. at this point, you were so ecstatic that nothing else was on your mind but your best friend. the way he was making you feel couldn't compare to other times; he was being so rough, and you loved it like that.

after a while, you felt him throbbing inside you and you knew he was about to cum, because of that and how his moans were getting more and more audible and his thrusts more erratic, his face twisted in pure pleasure, and the way he clung to your body as if his life depended on it.

"ahhh, shit, y/n, i–i'm fucking clos–holy f...uck" he uttered weakly "please, cum inside me, baby, i want you to fill me up" you beg agitatedly in his ear "fuck– i will" he says, continuing to assault your pussy and wrapping his arms around your waist, making your bodies even closer together, if that was even possible.

the lewd sound of him rapidly thrusting in and out of you along with the sound of your pretty moans and your throbbing cunt sucking his cock led him to the most devastating orgasm he had ever had, he sunk his teeth into your shoulder and clenched his eyes shut as he released everything inside you, just as you had asked, staining your inner walls white with his hot seed, you followed him only a second later, calling his name between whimpers, panting and tensing your muscles, relaxing them when the orgasm faded.

it was so intense. that's how you and theo would describe what you just experienced, no more, no less, you could still feel your hearts beating a thousand per hour even after a minute of such an explosion.

"wow" was all you could say, "wow, indeed" theo exclaimed, trying to catch his breath. you shuddered when you felt his fingers gently and delicately caressing your back, "what was that?" you asked once you had calmed down.

"that...was one of the best orgasms i've ever had, if not the best" you didn't know why his response made your heart beat like crazy again, but for some reason, you were happy to hear that.

"you're welcome" you look up at him with big eyes and give him a sincere smile. he smiled back, and you were about to get up to clean yourself as part of the routine, but theo didn't let you, pulling you close with his arms "wait...let's stay like this for a little while, okay?" you were confused but didn't object. after all, you didn't mind being like this with him, so you let him.

the way he was stroking your hair, your back, your arms, it all felt so...intimate, even more than other times. i mean, yes, you'd had countless encounters that ended with you on top of each other, but nothing beyond that. this time it felt different; it was different, and both of you knew it.

"do you wanna know what i was thinking while you were on top of me?" he blurted out "hmm?" you lifted your head to look at him and noticed a soft smile adorning his beautiful face "i was thinking about how pretty you looked, how perfect it would be to have you like that just for me and how fucking jealous i would be if others could appreciate that" you saw him get a little frustrated "fuck, what i'm trying to say is that...i like you, a lot" he finally admits "i don't know how it happened and i don't know what to do about it, but the only thing i know is that i don't want this to ever end but i don't want you to be someone else's either" he sighed heavily and closed his eyes, feeling the regret setting in and thinking about what to say next to avoid an awkward silence, but you interrupted him before he could add anything else, "let's take a chance" you said without thinking, your heart was beating frantically inside your chest since theo started confessing to you so suddenly "we could make it work" your best friend's face...or well, you no longer knew what your relationship would be from now on, lit up and he felt a great relief knowing that maybe (undoubtedly) you felt the same way he did about you.

he took your face in his hands and kissed you, hoping that kiss would convey all the unspoken emotions he hadn't been able to express with words.

"so...would you like to be only mine, handsome?" you asked playfully and in a flirtatious way when the kiss ended, looking at him with sparkling eyes as you waited for a response. he giggles and kisses your nose.

"i'm already yours."

a/n: hihi :) this is my first writing ever and omg i'm so nervous but happy at the same time bc i finally got the courage to do something i've been wanting to do for quite some time and now i did it! i've been working on this for so long now and i still don't know if i'm entirely satisfied with what i did, but i hope you guys like it more than i do. btw sorry if there's any typos or grammar mistakes, english is not my first language and i'm still learning day by day hehe :p also this ended up being longer than i expected oopsie.

[spriteofmushrooms]

Pls… pls elaborate 👁️👁️ so I can change my answer (in spirit) from crying a few days ago to crying right now!

Jiang Wanyin lies broken on the ground. Jin Ling, screaming, swings Suihua at the monstrous yao he'd just been pushed away from, the one that killed his jiujiu. Lan Jingyi should help, should move, but--anything that could kill Jiang Wanyin--

A clarity bell chimes as Lan Sizhui begins to play his guqin. The moment breaks, and Lan Jingyi leaps to flank the yao.

The battle is blue-lit by their signal flare and the full moon. Starbright sword flares sweep across the forest. Flashes of Jin Ling's qi, the golden brown of wutong leaves in autumn, bury themselves in the yao with every qi-laced arrow.

But it's only once Wen Ning holds the yao still that Wei Wuxian, responding to their flare via Hanguang-jun, eviscerates it with his trapped ghosts.

Hanguang-jun who is staring where Jiang Wanyin lies, his white robes bathed in red.

"Ah, stay back, a-Ling," a man's mirthful voice says. "Your jiujiu would be upset if I caught you, too."

Jin Ling starts "who the fuck" but is interrupted by Hanguang-jun's "Wei Ying."

Lan Jingyi turns to see Jin Ling's silhouette limned in red; Jiang Wanyin's body transformed by red; and a transparent youth in YunmengJiang-style robes sitting astride Jiang Wanyin, as bright and red as the setting sun, surrounded by a rainbow whirlwind of qi.

"Lan Zhan," the boy says laconically as a nearby tree cracks and falls. "Don't be boring for once, alright?"

As Lan Jingyi watches, the boy rests one hand on Jiang Wanyin's upper dantian and plunges the other into the swirling qi around them until all transforms to red. Another snap breaks the night, and Lan Jingyi realizes.

The little qi lights are from plants, bugs, and lesser spirits; the youth is draining the forest. An ash-black circle spreads from Jiang Wanyin.

Whose chest is moving.

"Jiang Cheng, wake up, ah? You're going to be late if you stay in bed all day." With the stolen vitality pulsing through him, the youth's features are clearer. He's handsome, his face much sweeter than Jiang Wanyin's sharp beauty. Mischief curls at the edges of his smile.

From Lan Jingyi's side, Wei Wuxian says coldly, "How often have you done this to him? Forcing foreign qi into his system will inevitably cause backlash."

The youth's smile sharpens. "Do you care, Wei-wanbei?" Without moving his hand, his thumb caresses Jiang Wanyin's cheek. "Besides, if I make it mine before I give it to him, is it really so different from spending years coalescing it into a golden core? His body knows me well."

"Gusu can integrate this part of your soul with the rest of you," Hanguang-jun says.

The youth laughs, and Wei Wuxian says "don't bother, Lan Zhan."

Ignoring his cultivation partner's advice, Hanguang-jun continues, "You will never rest until all pieces of your soul are joined. Let go of Jiang Wanyin, and come to me."

Jin Ling shifts. "You're healing jiujiu, right?"

"I am," the youth says, turning away from Hanguang-jun.

Jin Ling moves between Jiang Wanyin and Hanguang-jun, Suihua bare in his hand. "Let him do what he wants."

"How many times must Wei Ying destroy himself to fulfill a life debt to the dead?" Hanguang-jun demands, hand on Bichen.

Lan Sizhui finally speaks. "Hanguang-jun, Jin Ling, shouldn't we wait until we know more? None of us have the expertise to weigh in on Wei-xiao-gongzi's situation, do we? Applying theory without evidence could be harmful, too, Hanguang-jun." Then the traitor turns to Lan Jingyi. "If Zidian hasn't expelled Wei-xiao-gongzi, doesn't that mean Jiang-zongzhu is not possessed?"

"Yes," Lan Jingyi tries, then clears his throat. "Yes, Zidian wouldn't let its master be possessed. This must be something else."

A small voice interrupts the argument. "Wei... Wuxian?"

"Can't you call me shixiong just once, Jiang Cheng?"

"Started training first," Jiang Wanyin whispers.

"How would you know when my parents started training me? Especially since I'm older, and my mother is from a different tradition. Perhaps Baoshan Sanren starts her disciples at their hundred day celebration, hmm?"

"Stupid," Jiang Wanyin says. Then, "You're dead. Saw it."

"That was just my idiot body," the youth says with a smirk.

"Fuck you," Wei Wuxian spits.

At the noise, Jiang Wanyin's eyes flick to them. "A-Ling?"

"I'm fine, jiujiu!"

"Everyone's here because it's so rare to you lazing around," the youth says. "Do you think I could sell tickets? See Jiang Cheng take a break, only fifty tael!"

"Jiang-shixiong," Jiang Wanyin says, eyes back on the youth, taking huge rasping breaths between phrases. "Sounds better. Sixty tael, maybe."

"If he doesn't recognize you, then you don't know what this will do to him long-term," Wei Wuxian says.

"Oh, I do. I just wipe his memory every time. It keeps Jiang Cheng from digging me out of him, you know?"

"What."

The youth smiles beatifically down at Jiang Wanyin. "Did you think you got away with all of your not-quite-suicide, shidi? Did you think there wasn't a cost to being careless with yourself? Poor Pan Fu,¹ did his hero really not know what he gave his life to?"

"No!" Jiang Wanyin's fingers twitched, but even now his arm was more gore than whole. "Stop, stop. Shixiong, stop. Pan Fu, Pan Fu..."

"Still sad about that brat even now? Why am I not surprised. He wasn't even that strong of a cultivator; he just reminded you of me. Let go already."

"I raised him," Jiang Wanyin cries. "Don't, please, please."

Merciless, the youth bent down until their faces are centimeters apart. "What can you do to stop me? What have you ever been able to do against me, shidi?"

"Let me die, let me die, let me die, please let me die."

For a moment, the youth only gazes at Jiang Wanyin. "No," he says, and pours more of the forest into his shidi.

¹ Pan Fu is from this ficlet. No, Wei Wuxian wasn't jealous, why would he be? Pan Fu was simply to hand when Jiang Cheng threw himself into danger.

(To protect Pan Fu. But why should that matter? Jiang-zongzhu can't die for one of his hundreds of disciples. What would they do without him, hmm?)

[star-xxx1]

Mrs Romanoff your truly fucking sick, but I'II always love you -

Mob!Natasha x fem!Reader

Summary: Natasha misses you.

Warnings: Dark Natasha, stockholm syndrome, making out, mentions of murder, tooth rotting fluff, Blood.

Natasha's expression was stonic as she glared out the tinted widow of the Matt black landrover. Now ruined, blood smeared on the expensive leather seats. Studying the outside world around her. Her eyes still on the road but examining for anything that might be off or dangerous. Her mind overflowing with thoughts, each one cutting through her like a knife cutting butter. Emerald Eyes flickered to the rear view mirror. There displayed the many blood drenched weapons laid out on back seat, reminding her off the stressful event's she had to deal with this month.

Wow a month without the love of her life, She could only go so long without you and that timer had ran out. You really didn't want to clean up the affects of her rampages that were unleashed if deprive of you for a short 'lengthy' period of time, destroying or killing everything or everyone in her way.

That's what she needed, you, she couldn't feel a thing with out you, no remorse or pain, nothing.

During her time away she would face time you any chance she got. Purposely being late to meetings and events just so she could chat to you a little longer. Mortified when the last week of the work trip turned into a survival game and she had to cut all contact, not wanting anyone to trace her to you. Of course she told you before, not wanting you to stress but you just couldn't help but to do just that.

Within that week, that already annoyed Natasha became more irritated making her even more dangerous. The redhead already was riled up without your touch. Your calls kept her from tiping over the edge but now she had nothing. She couldn't stand it. All she wanted to do was engulf you in her arms and never let go.

When she first kidnapped you met you she was already heavy addicted but when you started warming up to her dark and twisted ways, she got even more obsessed. It was like she was dependent on you. Dependent on your, touch, smell, voice, personality. Just you in general, and without it, she is like a drug addict having violent withdrawal symptoms. Not being able to sleep, irritability, changing moods, depression, Having carvings of you. Her grip tightening on the sleek wheel, more annoyance and fusration building up in her chest.

She had snapped big time. Slashing the throats of many, smashing people heads into walls, stabbing, shooting. That rage had to go somewhere and today it was put into one of her countless killing sprees. Her last three victims being teammates who where suppose to come over to discuss more business, but that would only restrain her from touching you longer. After safely discarding of the bodies she hopped back into her car, continuing the journey home, not caring about the mess she had created.

She was only a few minutes away but that short distance felt like miles to her. Pressing her foot down on acceleration, she put all her focus Into getting home, speeding down the dark streets of new York City.

Tried and worried you plopped down onto the enormous, white couch, to you it felt like pure clouds. You lied there thinking about the intoxicating redhead, anxiety dripping from every pore on your body.

You were stressing out way to much it wasn't healthy at all. Grabbing the tv remote you turn on the huge flat screen tv which was mounted to the wall, hoping it would help distract you. You flicked through the many apps, selecting Netflix. Mindlessly scrolling through the movies and series, you finally saw something that caught your eye. It was a comedy action movie, pressing play you tried to push out all the fear that bubbled inside you.

Around 10 minutes later you were alerted by the penthouses ai that the front door was opened. Springing up you quickly made your way to the door, pacing down huge hallways.

"Natasha?" You called out before Turing the corner. There you saw her drenched head to toe In blood. Taken aback sightly, you stopped in tracks, trying to get used to the sight of your wife. You've seen her like this before but it still catches you off guard everytime. "Is that yours? Did you do it again?"

She was hypnotized by the sight of you in her fuzzy sweater, which was way to big for you, and the pink sleep shorts you had paired with it. You looked adorable. Taking a deep breath she closed the space between you and her. As she came closer you could see miniscule chucks of something on her signature black jacket. "Natasha, what the actual fuck in that?"

"Brains, flesh I don't know? Both maybe? Could be anything?" She shrugged.

"How many?" You questioned raising a brow.

"Like, 20?"

"20! Natalia!" You raised you voice at her. She grinned at your reaction, finding it cute. She pulled you into a tight hug missing you so dearly. "Great you've got blood all over me and that shit too" she chlucked at you comment. "Come on Natty let's get you into the shower" you pulled away and held her hand. Dragging her the through the halls and into your bedrooms bathroom.

You turned on the shower and started undressing, feeling a pair of eyes burn into you. "You gonna undress to?" You asked. The women quickly started stripping. Once done you grabbed a plastic bag and put the clothes into it. After tying it and placing it onto the counter, Natasha slammed your back against the cold shower tile, and smashed her lips into yours. You let out a loud moan which she greedily gobbled up. Swiping your lower lip with her tounge asking for permission which you happily granted. The kiss was sloppy, passionate, and intense. Only pulling away once you both couldn't breathe.

"I really missed you natty" you rested your head in the crook of her neck lightly crying.

"Shh, it's okay dekta, I'm here now" she kissed your head while whispering sweet nothings. You both griped on each other for dear life In comfortable silence, basking in the feel of being with eachother.

After finishing your shower, scrubbing away all the blood, you both got dressed into pajamas. Natasha slipped under the covers off the large bed. Expecting for you to join, only to see you leaving the room with the plastic bag.

"Where are you going?"

"I'm just putting your clothes on the kitchen counter to remind us to burn them tomorrow since there's no point trying to save them there to far gone, I wont be long, I promise sweetheart" you ressured her.

She gave you a warm smile and adjusted her position into a more comfortable one.

When back, you turned off the lights and crawled into her arms, so happy to have your wife back.

"I love you Natty" you mumbled.

"I love you more dekta" Natasha responsed back.

Natasha felt whole again, stable and content with you back in her arms. All her pervious stress melting away. You both soon fell into slumber, feeling so loved by each other.

[femalefemur]

What if each of the 141 have a different horseman of the apocalypse tattooed on their back.

John Price has Conquest. -

"And I saw when the Lamb opened one of the seals, and I heard, as it were the noise of thunder, one of the four beasts saying, Come and see. And I saw, and behold a white horse: and he that sat on him had a bow; and a crown was given unto him: and he went forth conquering, and to conquer."

He is the first you see, the leader of all others, guides them into battle where they take the lives of those deemed unworthy. An omen to those who see him on the horizon and a warning to others that should they stray he will come for them with his men.

Simon Riley has War. -

"And when he had opened the second seal, I heard the second beast say, Come and see. And there went out another horse that was red: and power was given to him that sat thereon to take peace from the earth, and that they should kill one another: and there was given unto him a great sword."

The second in command, the looming shadow behind his leader, an executioner waiting for his command. He comes behind his Captain and watches the fear in mens eyes as they see him. He wears a path ahead strewn with the bodies of those he hunted.

Kyle Garrick has Famine. -

"And when he had opened the third seal, I heard the third beast say, Come and see. And I beheld, and lo a black horse; and he that sat on him had a pair of balances in his hand. And I heard a voice in the midst of the four beasts say, A measure of wheat for a penny, and three measures of barley for a penny; and see thou hurt not the oil and the wine."

He steps over the bodies of those already slain and forges ahead, watching those that see him fill with dread. He uses his intellect and determination to impede their carefully thought out plans. Makes them abide by his rules for what lies ahead.

Johnny MacTavish has Death. -

"And when he had opened the fourth seal, I heard the voice of the fourth beast say, Come and see. And I looked, and behold a pale horse: and his name that sat on him was Death, and Hell followed with him. And power was given unto them over the fourth part of the earth, to kill with sword, and with hunger, and with death, and with the beasts of the earth."

He is the final, the end all be all, he welcomes them with open arms and embraces them in his deathly grip. He makes men fall to their knees and pray to their God that he spares them. All before he watches their blood seep from their bodies. A dead man walking, no fear in his eyes as he guides those to the afterlife.