#dreams emptiness deception

[nacrelysis]

sometimes i do just think about sumeru archon quest...i can't remember any in genshin lore where so many characters played such a huge role in the storyline and so cleanly. and how well-built the power structures/institutions are.

screams and bashes my head against the wall...the way sumeru is literally structured upon the pursuit of knowledge and wisdom but it's become a bastardized theocracy because of the akademiya sages.

the way it's literally a council of conservatives who hate the idea of moving forward with 'lesser lord' kusanali because that would actually require them to relinquish power to their god. the way they corrupt rukkhadevata's name for their own purposes because, well, she doesn't exist anymore, does she? she can't object to what they do in her name, can she? the way they intentionally pit the common people against each other and frame academia as a competition and make the entire population dependent on a network instead of their own thought so that every new generation is either burning themselves out or throwing away their identity...as long as they aren't questioning what the sages want to accomplish.

but, like. the archon quest. the traveler pops back between sumeru city and the desert because it's crucial to the development of this sociopolitical commentary. we get to see the exploitation of the desert region first-hand.

and the supporting cast is so so good. cyno, general mahamatra, and al-haitham, the akademiya scribe, give up the prestige of their titles in favor of doing the right thing: freeing nahida. dehya and candace/kandake are fighting for recognition and proper treatment of their people (dehya's character teaser literally focusing on how she uses her mercenary money to fund education for orphans and children in the desert!!) and a life free of exploitation from people claiming themselves to be "scholars." nilou tying up her mini-arc in the archon quest about how the akademiya suppresses creative liberty and the arts in order to maintain their hierarchy, nilou being the face of the resistance, nilou using her art as a method of protest and being crucial to the rescue of nahida!!

and hoyo writers tying up the socio-political commentary after the main conflict is over...nahida working with the akademiya and deshret worshippers to reconcile the prejudices and systemic oppression of the desert villages! eremites and candace and dehya and even npcs like setaria (who plays a major part in introducing the whole deshret-rukkhadevata conflict) being a part of the resolution! random notion but i really liked setaria and i'm so glad she chose to resign from the akademiya because it wasn't staying true to her moral principles in order to help improve education in her desert home ;-;

every character plays a part and i love it. i was rooting for them so hard and i was so close to crying when nahida finally got to step outside for the first time in 500 years. like !!! sumeru's archon quest got you so attached to the characters in such a little amount of time...i'm big-eyed about it all...

(also al-haitham organizing the coup so he wouldn't have to have more responsibilities in the akademiya, only to be named acting grand sage because his coup literally deposed every other possible candidate, was really funny)

[wickedzeevyln]

Real

In an interview with Jamie Foxx. He said that Tyson once told him that he was happy because he doesn’t have money anymore. According to Jamie when he asked him, ‘Why are you happy? Tyson said, ‘I don’t have any money. So I’m very happy. No one’s trying to take anything from me,’ How sad is that? He was giving away cars and money, but as soon as he loses everything they were no longer to be…

[yeslordmyking]

"Be you, at least for once..."

Like always, it's like he knows exactly what I'm going through and knows all the things I want to hear.

He's been through so much pain...

And now I can't give him my support to make it better anymore.

I wish I'd known you were something I had to lose. To choose to get rid of even though you make me smile 🥺

I feel gutted. But... I can't love anything more than God. No idols before me... May it please the Lord. May all our pain please the Lord. Eventually. Somehow. 💔

[viaviavie]

Ok ok ok Jamil being hot and bothered that you outwitted him but also!!! Post ob Jamil being hot and bothered around you because he just KEEPS dreaming and having his toughts wander back to you under him calling him master. He knows you didn't necessarily mean it but he can't get it out of hid head!! Boy really really wants to do it again, get you under his control and call him master but his ego just can't accept it yet... so meanwhile he's still processing over what happened and wakes up hot at 2am because holy moly did he just dream of you submitting to him AGAIN??

in reference to this post with overblot!jamil

IT HAUNTS HIM SMMMM (both in a sense that he wants more, but he's so embarrassed by the fact he got fooled ><)

Jamil can expect deception from Azul. That shady octopus was just the exact type to allow his true nature to bleed through when arrangements call for it, and for Jamil, it was rather easy to evade that man's silver tongue. However, when you sang so sweetly like an endearing canary with all those false praises, he definitely messed up in not suspecting there was a layer to your actions.

Everything goes back to normal after the overblot. You even reached out and apologized about the deception, but Jamil didn’t want you explaining yourself. He understood completely and nothing had to be discussed beyond that… but Jamil couldn’t help but hold what happened against you. He was rather embarrassed by what he did during his overblot. To think that even with all that power, he fell vulnerable to a few honeyed words? It says a lot about his ego, and that is something he does not want to confront for now. And so he tries to prove that you were a villain, that you were the prime study of a Machiavellian character.

However, was more than established that you never had much ulterior motives. After long periods of further observation and thorough understanding, Jamil accepted that you never wanted spotlight, riches, or even magic. You were not the sort of type to take advantage of others, but you were very much capable of it.

You attend the Heartslabyul tea parties and put up with the small tantrums that the housewarden erupts with. You visit Leona's spelldrive practices, even if it meant you were just sitting by the benches and offering water to the parched players. Even Azul, for all that he did to try and claim your home, you would be sitting in private booths testing new dishes. When Jamil returned to his old ways of tending to Kalim's every beck and call, you still visited and attempted to help out without instruction.

Even if you did have every ability to sway the hearts of villains, it was not as if you posed any true danger.

At least, that's what he tells himself at night when he wakes up with the feeling of your lips ghosting over his own.

Jamil really tried to get you out of his head. He took up more tasks, was even more than willing to put up with Kalim's antics for a while longer if it meant his mind didn't go back to your flushed expression. It would have worked. If only you didn't start showing up in Scarabia more often, perhaps a bit too much for the average visitor. Even then, you barely spent time with Kalim. You were always in the kitchens, whenever Jamil was. You were in the lounging room, whenever Jamil was. You were far away from the center of Kalim's party, whenever Jamil was out of sight.

"Ah, prefect." He didn't mean to intrude upon you. You were merely standing by the balcony, looking at the night sky in the spare room. Jamil often rested in the empty rooms when the parties were raging, at least, when he trusted that Kalim was safe. Just as he was ready to step out of the doorway, he heard you call from afar. "You don't have to leave, Jamil." He doesn't like the way he stares, eyes flickering from head to toe. "It's only me."

Of course, it's only you. You, who saw him so vulnerable and weak for your words. You, who haunts his dreams and his daydreams with just your lips. You, who pisses him off so much because you were too smart for your own good. You, who probably thinks less of him than he wants to believe.

You can sense the way he hesitates from leaving. With a grunt, he nodded before shutting the door behind him, taking quiet steps to your side. The night breeze hits his face, and he finds his breath stolen by the sight of your pleased expression against the pale moonlight. "You aren't at Kalim's party." He commented, eyeing your hands that seemed to be gripping chains. Those golden bands are in your possession once more, and the image of you being pinned down and chained flickers behind his eyes once more.

Clink. Clink.

Maybe coming here was a deadly mistake.

He could feel his heart tightening with you smile towards him. "It wasn't my scene. I've always preferred the quiet." Clink. Clink.

Jamil does not inspect the noise. Before he could even interject, you turned towards him with a rather kind smile. That smile was a double-edged sword. You can use it to have anyone you want, or it will be all that someone else will want. "You worked very hard today. Truly, I don't think these parties would be running without you."

"It was nothing, prefect. It happens so often that this feels like a mere chore."

Clink. Clink.

The sound of those golden bands were driving him crazy. Putting up a nonchalant facade, Jamil's attention returned to the bands. Coolly, he brushes his hand against yours, fingers playing with the chains himself. "What are you doing with these? This is merely decor." You could only shrug and smile to yourself, playing with the fastener as you slip it onto your wrist.

"I think it's pretty."

If he wasn't careful, Jamil wouldn't be able to cover up how flustered he was beginning to feel. While a part of him swears that you are doing this to get a rise out of him, he won't deny that you suit those bands. Gold, or silver, whichever you want, those bands belong to you. With an approving hum, Jamil nodded and dared to let his fingers trace the metal adoring your wrist. "Indeed."

This was dangerous. He knew better than to feed this game that you were playing, but then again, you were all alone here. No Kalim to save you, no magic to wield, nowhere to run, and no one to hear you.

Narrowing his eyes against your cheeky expression, Jamil faced you fully and took a step forward. You didn't dare move, allowing him to step into your space. You were not looking into his eyes either, fixated on the golden shackle on your wrist. "You should return to the party, prefect. You may find trouble in making your way back if you stay."

He is giving you a chance to leave. You know better than stay here with Jamil. For all the red flags that should have been waving in your head, you knew very well that Jamil was not one to mistreat. "I don't want to. I prefer your company." Humming to yourself, you kept that sly smile on your face as you shifted your gaze anywhere else but his face, and it drives him crazy.

He can't play this game anymore, grown too impatient to play this painful charade.

He makes a sound so similar to a hiss, and his arm had found itself ensnared around your middle like a snake. You freeze as the warmth of his neck comes closer to your face and his hand is tilting your chin upwards to force your eyes onto his. You are looking away, doing everything to avoid those beautiful eyes of his.

"Prefect," He whispered darkly, tethering between the lines of a threat and a request. "Look at me."

Jamil never expect you to lean into his touch. He never expected your lips to part so slightly in that manner, or the way your eyes finally flickered towards his own with such wanting.

"Yes, my master?"

And that wicked smirk resurfaces across his lips, but you wouldn't have it any other way for tonight.

[yan-lorkai]

God I just read your soft yandere Leona executing the people who tried to kill his s/o and I LOOOVE it! Could I have this scenario in the same format (ie long drabble) for Malleus? Where the council/high nobles don't approve him marrying a human and try to assassinate them and Malleus catches them. I need soft yandere Malleus enjoying a nice dinner with his love after he just finished publically torturing/executing the hell out of those nobles

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ A/n: That fic was a favorite of mine too. The softness, the death, it was a masterpiece imo. So I hope you like this too, darling! (^-^)

The grand hall was silent, save for the soft clatter of cutlery against fine china. Malleus watched you from across the table, his emerald eyes alight with a contentment that was almost unsettling in its intensity. The air was still heavy with the remnants of the afternoon's events and though you tried to focus on the delicate meal before you, it was impossible to forget the horrors that had transpired just hours earlier.

It had started when the council, with all their arrogance and pride, had dared to question Malleus’s choice.

“A human?” They had sneered, contempt dripping from their words, as you felt their eyes on you, hudging you for every single little thing. “Surely, the Crown Prince could do better.” Their words had been harsh, cruel and you could still feel the sting of their disapproval like a fresh wound.

But Malleus’s reaction had been instant and absolute.

“I see,” He had said, voice deceptively calm. “You believe yourselves fit to judge my decisions?”

His smile had been cold, empty of its usual warmth, and it was in that moment you saw the depths of his fury. “Very well. Then allow me to demonstrate the consequences of defying your future king.”

Now, as you sat across from him at dinner, he was all smiles and warmth, as if the day’s events had been nothing more than a distant dream. “You’ve barely touched your food,” Malleus noted, tilting his head. “Are you not hungry, my love? Or perhaps you want something else?”

You hadn’t been allowed to witness the executions; Malleus had ensured that much as he demanded Silver and Sebek to not let you in. But you had heard the screams, echoing through the castle walls, each one more desperate than the last. The very air had vibrated with his magic, raw and unrestrained, as he had dealt with each council member in turn, their cries a symphony of suffering that left no doubt of his power.

When it was over, the silence that followed had been deafening.

You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to look up at him. “It’s just… It’s been a long day,” you replied, trying to keep your voice steady. “I’m still… processing.”

You shivered, but whether it was from fear or something else, you couldn’t say. “But… did it have to be so… brutal?” you whispered, unable to shake the image of their twisted, broken bodies from your mind.

Malleus’s expression softened and he reached across the table to take your hand in his. His touch was gentle, the same hand that had so recently been drenched in blood now cradling yours with the utmost care. “I did what needed to be done, my love.”

His tone was so calm, so assured, as if he were discussing something as mundane as the weather. “They dared to hurt you, to question your worth. Such disrespect cannot be tolerated, for an offense upon you is an offense upon me.”

“Yes,” Malleus answered without hesitation, his gaze never wavering from yours. “Because they needed to understand. You are my chosen consort, my beloved, and anyone who dares to threaten that will face the consequences.” He squeezed your hand, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. “You deserve nothing less than absolute devotion and protection.”

He released your hand only to rise from his seat, moving around the table to stand behind you. Bending down, Malleus pressed a tender kiss to the crown of your head, his breath warm against your skin. “You are mine,” he murmured, his voice sending a shiver down your spine. “And I will not allow anyone to take you from me.”

The words were a promise, one laced with both love and a dangerous, possessive edge. As he returned to his seat, Malleus gestured to your untouched plate with a gentle smile. “Now, my dear, please eat. I had this meal prepared especially for you.”

You nodded numbly, picking up your fork and taking a bite. It was delicious, as always, but the taste was overshadowed by the weight of Malleus’s gaze, watching you with an intensity that made it clear he would do anything —absolutely anything — to keep you by his side.

And as you sat there, sharing a meal with him, you realized that this was your reality now: a life bound to a dragon who would burn the world to ashes if it meant keeping you safe.

[ijustmissyouraccenths]

I Want To Kill Her (Part 2)

Au where Y/N and Harry are neighbors who find out their spouses are cheating with each other.

Based off Fortnight by Taylor Swift

Part 1

CW: Smut, cursing, unprotected sex, emotional abuse.

Word Count: 10,085

The months following the gut-wrenching discovery of Teddy's affair were a chaotic storm of emotions and turmoil. The idea of my spouse, the person I trusted most in this world, being unfaithful was unbearable. But without any concrete evidence, doubt enveloped me like a thick fog, suffocating me as I struggled to regain my footing. Though I desperately wanted to believe he wasn't cheating, the blatant signs and whispers from those around us made it impossible to deny the painful truth.

Rage and heartbreak battle within me as I struggle to forgive Teddy, to find a way to salvage our relationship. But each attempt is met with the painful memories of his infidelity, burning like acid through my veins. I'm terrified of losing my British citizenship, my sense of identity and belonging, if I leave him. And even worse, I dread the thought of calling my family and confessing the truth - that not only did Teddy betray me with another woman, but in some sick twisted way, I am also to blame. My family adored him like a son, and he gave me a life beyond my wildest dreams. How could I ever reconcile these conflicting emotions?

Harry's sudden decision to divorce Rosie sent shockwaves through the once peaceful fortress of their home. In just a week, he had packed his bags and walked away, leaving behind a cold and empty shell that was now up for sale. As new potential buyers roamed the halls, I couldn't help but feel a sense of betrayal from Harry's abrupt departure. The last time I saw him was in a dingy motel room, where we spent a desperate night together before he vanished without a trace. His disappearance was calculated and cruel, fueled by his seemingly endless wealth and power. Meanwhile, I was left with nothing but uncertainty and the option to return home to Florida. But Harry's resentment only grew as I hesitated to make a final decision. He wanted me to walk away with no regrets, but real life is messy and complicated - far from the neat and tidy ending he desired.

I was trapped in a prison of a house, held captive by a man who claimed to love me but had truly only created a tangled web of chaos and pain. We forced ourselves into therapy every week, desperate to salvage something from the wreckage he had caused. But even after all the sessions, I still felt like I was drowning in the suffocating grip of his selfishness. It was never enough, and I could feel my sanity slipping away with each passing day.

Evenings rolled into nights and days blurred into months. Each moment seemed agonizingly long as I begged time to fly quicker, to wash away the stale taste of betrayal and deception from my existence. The house that once echoed with laughter and love now felt eerily silent, its walls whispering Teddy's betrayal during the quietest hours. My heart ached in ways I never knew possible, each pulse a reminder of the pain he had caused. 

In a bid for relief, I threw myself into cooking elaborate meals, organising closets, watering the drooping plants Teddy had once loved. Yet every activity was tainted with the memory of him - his laughter rings in my mind as I repeat chores we used to do together. It was a desperate plight to keep myself sane amidst the storm that threatened to break me down.

Teddy's unfaithfulness took its toll on my spirit, but Harry's abandonment shattered me entirely. I played over our last night together again and again in my mind. There was something feral about that night; lust mixed with desperation and an underlying tone of finality. He left without any explanation, disappearing like a ghost only leaving behind the faint scent of his cologne and a raw wound that refused to heal.

The cracks were beginning to show. Laughter seemed forced, smiles rarely reached my eyes. The weekly therapy sessions felt more like an interrogation than relief, talks of my own explicit night replaying session after session. Hours spent scrutinizing every detail of our dysfunctional relationship only amplified my misery. Every shared secret, every stolen glance, every whispered promise – all now seemed meaningless and distorted under the harsh scrutiny of reality.

In the end, it was not Teddy who broke me; it was me who had allowed myself to be broken by him. My judgment clouded by love hindered me from seeing the man he truly was – a master manipulator cloaked in charm and charisma. The truth was painful to accept but liberating in its own cruel way. I was no longer in denial. I was no longer the woman who would bend over backwards to accommodate the whims of unfaithful men. I was stronger than my heartbreak, stronger than their deceit. And most importantly, I learned the toughest lesson of my life – not all love is meant to be cherished; sometimes, it's better left discarded.

As I sat in the therapist's office, the stark white walls closing in around me, my voice cracked as I attempted to verbalize the turmoil within me. "I just don't understand how it got to this point," I admitted, tears threatening to spill over.

Dr. Richards leaned forward, her gentle gaze meeting mine with empathy. "It sounds like you've been through a lot of pain and betrayal," she said softly. "But remember, healing begins with acknowledging the truth."

I nodded, wiping away a stray tear that escaped down my cheek. "I know, but it's so hard to let go of everything that was once so real to me."

Dr. Richards offered a kind smile. "It's okay to feel that way. It's all a part of the process." She paused before continuing, "Have you considered what you need to do to move forward from this?"

I took a deep breath, the weight of the question settling heavily on my shoulders. "I... I think I need to start by forgiving myself for allowing this to happen. For not seeing the signs sooner."

The words hung in the air between us, heavy with unspoken pain and regret. Dr. Richards reached out and placed a comforting hand on mine. "Forgiveness is a powerful tool, both for yourself and for others," she said gently.

I closed my eyes, trying to hold back the flood of emotions threatening to overwhelm me. "But how do I forgive someone who shattered me into a million pieces?" I whispered, my voice barely audible.

Dr. Richards' voice was steady and reassuring as she replied, "Forgiveness doesn't mean forgetting or excusing their actions. It means releasing the hold they have over your heart and mind."

As I sat there, grappling with the weight of forgiveness, a million thoughts raced through my mind. Dr. Richards' words lingered like a balm on my wounded soul, but the path to healing still seemed daunting.

"I understand that forgiveness is crucial, but how do I even begin to untangle the mess he left behind?" I asked, my voice wavering with uncertainty.

Dr. Richards leaned back in her chair, her expression thoughtful. "It's a process, one step at a time," she said gently. "Start by acknowledging your pain and allowing yourself to feel it without judgment."

Tears welled up in my eyes as I nodded, the emotions swirling inside me threatening to spill over. "It's just so hard to let go of the anger and hurt," I confessed.

She nodded in understanding. "Anger is a natural response to betrayal, but holding onto it only prolongs your pain. Remember, forgiveness is not for his benefit, but for yours."

Her words struck a chord deep within me, resonating with a truth I had been avoiding. "I want to move forward, but I don't know where to begin," I admitted, feeling lost in the sea of my own emotions.

Dr. Richards reached for a tissue and handed it to me with a gentle smile. "Start by being gentle with yourself," she advised. "Forgiveness is a gift you give yourself, a release from the burden of carrying someone else's actions."

I took the tissue gratefully, wiping away my tears as her words sank in. "I never thought of it that way," I murmured, feeling a glimmer of hope amidst the pain.

She gave my hand a reassuring squeeze. "You are stronger than you realize. Forgiveness is not about condoning what he did; it's about setting yourself free from his grip on your heart."

As I sat there, enveloped in Dr. Richards' compassion and wisdom, a sense of peace washed over me. The road to forgiveness may be long and arduous, but with her guidance and my own resilience, perhaps one day I could truly let go and embrace the healing that awaited me.

The following weeks were a whirlwind of emotion, a rollercoaster of highs and lows. I spent many sleepless nights replaying old memories, wrestling with anger and regret. But with each passing day, the burden on my heart felt lighter. I began journaling my thoughts, pouring out my hurt into ink instead of letting it fester within me. And despite the painful contents, there was a strange sort of relief in seeing my emotions spelled out on paper.

"Writing can be therapeutic," Dr. Richards had suggested during one of our sessions. "It provides a safe space to confront your feelings, as raw and as tumultuous as they may be."

Within the quiet sanctuary of my mind and the solitude of my room, I started to delve deeper into myself; into the wounds that had been inflicted upon me and the ones I had unknowingly inflicted upon myself. The process was painful but cathartic. For each tear that fell onto the pages of my journal, there was a tiny piece of pain and bitterness being released.

Days turned into weeks, and slowly but surely, I found myself becoming less consumed by his betrayal and more focused on my healing. I started attending group therapy sessions where I met others who bore similar scars – our shared experiences bound us together in a circle of empathy and understanding.

In those group meetings, I realized that pain was universal but so was resilience. Listening to others narrate their journeys of recovery ignited a spark within me. I saw mirrored in their stories my own strength and determination to rise above the ashes.

One day, while looking at myself in the mirror after another group therapy session, something remarkable happened. Staring back at me was a woman who looked familiar but different—a stronger version of myself; a survivor. My reflection no longer showcased the woman betrayed by love but instead revealed a woman who had found strength amidst despair.

“I am not just a victim,” I whispered to my reflection, the words filling the room with a newfound determination. “I am a survivor.”

The following week in Dr. Richard's office, I found myself recalling this moment with a sense of pride. "I am starting to see changes," I admitted, a small smile tugging at the corner of my lips.

She returned my smile, her eyes filled with warmth and encouragement. "Change is a testament to your strength and resilience," she responded. "You're embracing this journey with courage, learning to forgive not just him, but yourself as well."

Her words felt like a beacon of hope guiding me through the foggy path of recovery. While the pain still lingered like an unforgotten ghost, each day it seemed less potent than before. I was indeed learning to forgive—forgive him for his betrayal and forgive myself for my blindness to his deceit.

As our session ended, I left Dr. Richards' office feeling lighter than when I had come in. With every step away from her office and every step towards home, I was journeying farther from the woman who had allowed herself to be broken by betrayal and closer to the woman who had found strength in her own resilience.

Journaling had become my safe haven, a place where I could pour out my deepest thoughts and emotions without fear of judgment. But that sanctuary was shattered when one day, in a rush to make it to therapy on time, I left my journal open on the bed. My heart stopped when I returned to find Teddy holding it, his eyes scanning the pages filled with my most vulnerable moments. In an instant, my privacy was invaded and my trust was broken.

The tense silence in the room shattered as Teddy's furious voice pierced the air, causing my heart to skip a beat. I watched helplessly as he held my journal in a white-knuckled grip, his eyes scanning the pages with growing anger. "What the actual fuck is this?" he bellowed, his face contorted with rage.

I stood frozen, my mind racing to find the right words to diffuse the escalating situation. "Teddy, please put that down," I pleaded, my voice barely above a whisper, but he ignored me, his expression dark and menacing.

With a sharp intake of breath, I lunged forward to grab the journal from his hands, but he deftly sidestepped me. The tension crackled between us like electricity, each heartbeat echoing in the turbulent silence that enveloped the room.

"You've been writing about our sessions? and Harry?" Teddy's voice was laced with accusation, his gaze burning into mine with searing intensity.

I felt a surge of defiance rising within me as I squared my shoulders. "It's none of your business," I shot back, my tone sharper than intended, but I refused to back down in the face of his intrusion.

His jaw clenched as he took a step closer, his towering presence casting a shadow over me. "None of my business? You've been documenting our private moments, our struggles! How you also fucked the neighbor?" His voice rose with each word, reverberating off the walls like thunder in a storm “As if that little fucking photo he sent while fucking you, my wife, wasn’t bad enough”.

I could feel my own anger building, fueled by his violation of my privacy. "You have no right to invade my thoughts like this and last I checked, you were the one who started cheating," I retorted, the words dripping with resentment and hurt.

The atmosphere crackled with tension as we stood locked in a battle of wills, neither willing to yield ground. The air grew thick with unspoken accusations and grievances left festering beneath the surface.

"You think you can just hide behind your journal and play the victim?" Teddy's voice was laced with contempt, his eyes boring into mine with an intensity that sent shivers down my spine.

My fists clenched at my sides as a surge of defiance coursed through me. "I am not playing anything! This is my way of coping with everything you've put me through, let’s remember who started this mess," I shot back, my voice steady despite the turmoil raging inside me.

His laugh was harsh and bitter, cutting through the charged atmosphere like a blade. "Coping? Is that what you call it? Writing about how I've destroyed you? This is pretty much a sex book." His words were like daggers aimed straight at my heart.

The room seemed to shrink around us as we faced off in this battle of words and wills. Every breath felt heavy with unspoken truths and buried emotions that threatened to erupt like a volcano on the verge of eruption.

"I trusted you," I whispered hoarsely, tears stinging at the corners of my eyes as the weight of his betrayal bore down on me like a crushing weight.

Teddy's expression softened for a fleeting moment before hardening once more. "Trusted me? Look where that got you," he sneered, a cruel twist to his lips betraying the depths of his callousness.

The walls seemed to close in around us as the fight escalated into a tumultuous storm of emotions and accusations. Each word exchanged felt like a blow to an already fractured foundation that threatened to crumble under the weight of our shared pain.

The rumble of thunder outside echoed the turmoil inside as our voices rose in a crescendo of anger and hurt. The room pulsed with an energy so charged it felt as though lightning might strike at any moment, igniting a fire that would consume us both.

"I'm tired of being your punching bag," I declared, my voice firm with newfound resolve.

Teddy's face contorted with fury. "You think you're innocent in all this?" he shot back, his words like venom dripping from his lips.

The air crackled with electricity as we faced off in a battle neither willing to concede. It was a clash of egos and emotions, each word exchanged fueling the fire burning between us.

"I won't be silenced by your guilt-tripping," I retorted, my voice cutting through the charged atmosphere with precision.

Teddy's eyes blazed with rage as he took a step closer, his breath hot against my skin. "Guilt-tripping? You've been playing the victim since day one," he accused, his voice dripping with contempt.

The room seemed on the verge of imploding as our tempers flared and our voices clashed in a symphony of discord. It was a battle of wills and wounded pride, each unwilling to yield ground in this war of words.

"You'll never own up to your mistakes," I accused, my voice tinged with frustration and anger.

Teddy's fists clenched at his sides as he glared at me with unbridled fury. "Mistakes? You're the one who shattered everything we had, we could’ve come back from this. You didn’t have to fuck the first guy you saw!" he roared, his words echoing off the walls like thunder on a stormy night.

The fight raged on like an unrelenting tempest, each word exchanged adding fuel to the fire burning between us. The air crackled with tension as we stood face to face in a battle that threatened to consume us both.

“You know what? I’m done,” I seethed, my voice rising to a fever pitch. "I'll find a place to stay and it sure as hell won't be here!" My fists clenched at my sides, nails digging into my palms as I glared daggers at the person in front of me. The fury coursing through my body threatened to consume me, but I welcomed it, fueled by sheer determination to escape this toxic environment.

I took a deep breath and tried to steady my shaking hands as I dialed Bella's number, she was the first close friend I had made in London. The phone rang for what felt like hours before she finally picked up.

"Hey, Bella. It's me," I said, trying to keep my voice steady despite the turmoil raging inside of me.

"Hey, what's up?" she asked, her voice filled with concern.

"I need a place to stay for a while. Can I crash with you?" I blurted out, not wanting to beat around the bush.

Bella didn't hesitate. "Of course! What happened?"

"It's a long story," I replied, tears threatening to spill from my eyes again.

"Don't worry about it. Just come over whenever you're ready," she said reassuringly.

I thanked her and hung up the phone before splashing some cold water on my face in an attempt to compose myself. Taking one last look at myself in the mirror, I unlocked the bathroom door and made my way back to the living room.

Teddy was nowhere in sight, probably still seething from our argument. I quickly grabbed my backpack and stuffed some clothes and toiletries inside before heading out the door.

The fresh air outside helped clear my mind as I made my way towards Bella's house. As much as I wanted to stay strong and not let Teddy get to me, his words still stung like open wounds.

I couldn't believe how things had escalated so quickly between us. We used to be inseparable, but now it seemed like we were nothing but strangers living under the same roof.

My thoughts were interrupted as I arrived at Bella's house. She greeted me with open arms and led me inside as Bella and I settled down on her cozy couch, surrounded by the warmth of her living room, she handed me a mug of hot tea. The familiar scent of chamomile filled the air, soothing my frayed nerves.

"So, spill it. What happened between you and Teddy?" Bella asked gently, her eyes reflecting genuine concern.

I took a sip of the tea, feeling its comforting warmth seep into my bones. "It's just... we had another one of those fights about the cheating. The same patterns repeating over and over again. I don't think we can fix this anymore," I admitted, feeling a heavy weight lift off my chest with each word spoken.

Bella nodded knowingly, her empathy palpable. "Sometimes things reach a point where they can't be salvaged, no matter how much we try. It's okay to walk away if it's for your own well-being," she reassured me, her words like a balm to my wounded spirit.

Tears welled up in my eyes as I gazed at my friend, grateful for her unwavering support. "I just feel lost, you know? Like I don't even recognize myself anymore in all of this chaos," I whispered, the vulnerability raw in my voice.

Bella reached out and squeezed my hand reassuringly. "You're not alone in this. You have people who care about you, who want to see you happy and thriving. And remember, sometimes in letting go, we find the strength to rebuild ourselves," she offered with a gentle smile.

Her words resonated deep within me, a glimmer of hope flickering in the darkness that had clouded my heart. I wiped away the tears that had escaped and mustered a small smile in return.

"Thank you, Bella. For everything," I expressed sincerely, feeling a sense of gratitude wash over me for having such a supportive friend by my side.

The early morning light blazed through my window, a stark reminder of the emptiness that awaited me. With a heavy heart, I resolved to find a job, anything to fill the void left by my crumbling marriage. But even as I searched for employment opportunities, my thoughts kept drifting back to Harry. My desperation to know how he was doing gnawed at me like a festering wound, but there was no way to reach out and ask. As I sat in silence, I couldn't help but imagine the different path my life could have taken if I had chosen Harry over Teddy. The image of us together haunted me, a cruel reminder of what could've been. But now it was too late, and there was no turning back from the pain and regret that consumed me.

My fingers danced across the keys of my laptop, typing and retyping cover letters and resumes. The monotony of each hopeful submission echoed the emptiness in my heart, seemingly endless echoes spiraling into a void. To distract myself, I brewed a strong cup of coffee, the familiar smell offering an odd comfort in the chaos that was now my life.

As the day wore on, my efforts bore no fruit. Each potential employer remained a stranger to me, their responses automated and cold. As darkness began to creep into the room, a sense of defeat washed over me and I closed my laptop with a sigh.

I poured myself another cup of coffee, this time opting for the solitude of the balcony to nurse it. The city below shimmered with life just as it always did, indifferent to the turmoil of one seemingly insignificant inhabitant. Despite the layers of concrete and glass that separated us, I felt strangely connected to those anonymous lights - distant beacons in the abyss.

A haunting melody wafted up from somewhere far below, a soulful duet between an old saxophone and an even older piano. The notes danced through the fragmented night air, weaving stories of love lost and found again. Each note was a phantom whispering bittersweet tales into my ear.

Just then, an unexpected sound cut through my thoughts - the shrill ringtone of my phone nudged me back into reality. My heart clenched as I saw Teddy's name flash across the screen. He hadn't called since our fallout; what could he possibly want now? Nervously biting my lip, I answered it. On the other end of the line Teddy’s voice trembled with an emotion I couldn’t quite place; regret perhaps—or was it desperation?

My heart raced as I hung up and blocked Teddy's number. It was a small act of defiance, of reclaiming control over my life. But in that moment, it felt powerful.

I took a deep breath and leaned against the balcony railing, feeling the cold metal press against my cheek. It was a reminder that I was still here, still alive despite the pain and chaos swirling within me.

But even as I tried to convince myself that cutting off all contact with Teddy was for the best, doubts crept into my mind. What if he really did want to talk? What if he wanted to apologize and make things right?

I pushed those thoughts away, refusing to let them cloud my judgement. I couldn't afford to let him back into my life, not when I was finally starting to move on.

With new determination, I went back inside and resumed my job search. As midnight approached and exhaustion began to take hold, I allowed myself a moment of weakness and checked my email one last time.

A spark of hope ignited within me as I read the email from my job recruiter. It informed me that there was a hiring event happening downtown tomorrow and I had been invited to attend. My heart raced with excitement - this could be my chance to finally land a job.

I quickly confirmed my attendance and began mentally preparing for the event. As much as I hated the thought of going out into the world and facing potential rejection, I knew it was something I had to do.

The next morning, after meticulously picking out an outfit and rehearsing what I would say, I set out for downtown. The bustling streets were a chaotic blend of people rushing to work and tourists taking in the sights. As I walked among them, a sense of anonymity washed over me - just another face in the crowd.

Eventually, I reached the building where the hiring event was taking place. After taking a deep breath, I stepped inside and made my way towards the designated area.

The event was packed with job seekers like myself, all eager for a chance at employment. Despite my nerves, I felt emboldened by their determination and pushed forward to talk to employers.

One after another, I introduced myself and handed out resumes with practiced ease. Some showed interest while others dismissed me without a second glance. But instead of feeling defeated by rejection, I soldiered on with renewed purpose.

Hours passed in this manner until finally, just as hope began to wane, someone took notice of me. It was an HR rep from one of the top companies in town, Pleasing.

My heart pounded as I realized this could potentially lead me down the path to seeing Harry again. But I quickly pushed those thoughts aside and focused on the present moment.

The HR rep from Pleasing seemed impressed by my credentials and asked me to come in for an interview the following day. I couldn't believe it - this was exactly the opportunity I had been waiting for.

As I walked out of the hiring event, my mind raced with excitement and nerves. Part of me couldn't help but wonder if Harry still lived in the area, but I quickly shut down that line of thinking. It didn't matter - all that mattered was that I had a chance at a job.

The next day, I arrived at Pleasing's office early, dressed in my best professional attire. The receptionist greeted me with a smile and directed me to the HR department.

I shook myself out of my reverie as the HR rep called me into their office for the interview. Despite my nerves, I answered their questions confidently and highlighted my experience and skills.

As the interview progressed, I could feel the HR rep becoming more and more impressed. The questions became increasingly challenging, but I faced them head-on, demonstrating my knowledge and quick decision-making abilities. 

Slowly, the discussion moved on to my potential role in Pleasing and how I saw myself contributing to the company's future. Here, I outlined a comprehensive plan that included innovation, team synergy, and a commitment to meeting corporate objectives. The HR rep listened attentively, occasionally interjecting to clarify or probe deeper into my responses.

The interview concluded on a positive note and I was told that they would get back to me in a week's time. As I left the building, I felt a sense of accomplishment but there was also an underlying excitement - the possibility of crossing paths with Harry and being able to leave Bella’s to find my own flat.

A week passed in a blur of anticipation and anxiety, each day inching closer to the call from Pleasing. When it eventually came through, my heart skipped a beat. They were pleased with my performance during the interview and wanted me on board.

And so began my journey with Pleasing - a journey that was filled with arduous tasks, demanding projects, and incredible opportunities for growth. The work environment was fast-paced but rewarding, pushing me to work harder each day.

One afternoon, a couple of months into my role at Pleasing, I saw him from afar. It was Harry - my former neighbor and one night stand. He looked just as I remembered him: sharp-witted and focused in his tailored suit, there was an air of high authority about him.

My heart raced as I watched him stride through the office, making his way towards the executive level. Memories of our time together flooded back to me - the late nights he spent on top of me, the way he felt, the way he touched me, how he smelt expensive.

Lost in my thoughts, I suddenly realized that I needed to find a way to meet with him. But how? As a junior employee, I didn't have easy access to top executives like him.

Determined not to let this opportunity pass me by, I approached my manager and asked if there was any way I could have a meeting with Mr. Styles. She gave me a skeptical look but promised to see what she could do.

A few days later, she called me into her office with a smile on her face. "I spoke to Mr. Styles' assistant and they have agreed to give you 15 minutes next week," she said excitedly.

My heart skipped a beat at the thought of seeing Harry again after all this time. But what would I say? What would he think of me now?

The day of the meeting arrived and I nervously made my way up to the executive level. As soon as I stepped into Mr. Styles' office, my nerves disappeared - it felt like no time had passed between us at all.

As I cautiously entered his dark office, my heart pounded in my chest. The scent of tobacco and whiskey filled the air, mingling with the intense aura emanating from Harry's piercing green eyes. I could feel his gaze burning into me as I made my way to a chair by his desk.

"Y/N," he growled, his voice low and dangerous. "I saw the name and couldn't believe it was you, bloody hell."

A chill ran down my spine at the iciness in his tone. Memories flooded back of our tumultuous past, the love and betrayal that had torn us apart. But now, standing in front of him again, I couldn't deny the powerful pull that still existed between us.

"Harry," I managed to say, my voice barely above a whisper. "It's been a while."

He leaned back in his chair, studying me with an intensity that made my insides churn. "Indeed it has, Y/N," he remarked, his eyes never leaving mine. "I must say, I never expected to see you here."

I shifted uncomfortably under his gaze, feeling the weight of unspoken history hanging between us. "I didn't expect to be here either," I admitted, my voice tinged with a hint of regret.

He raised an eyebrow, a flash of something unreadable crossing his face. "And yet fate has a funny way of bringing people back together, doesn't it?"

I nodded, feeling a mix of emotions swirling inside me - longing, apprehension, and a spark of unresolved desire. "It seems that way," I said softly.

Harry leaned forward slightly, his expression softening imperceptibly. "Tell me, Y/N," he began, his voice quieter now. "What have you been up to since we last crossed paths?"

I took a deep breath, trying to gather my thoughts amidst the whirlwind of emotions his presence evoked. "Well," I started hesitantly, "I've been working here at Pleasing. It's been challenging but rewarding."

A flicker of interest sparked in his eyes. "Impressive." He paused for a moment before continuing, his tone contemplative. "And what made you seek out a meeting with me today?"

I met his gaze squarely, steeling myself against the vulnerability creeping in. "I wanted to reconnect," I confessed quietly. "To clear the air and maybe... find closure."

Harry regarded me thoughtfully for a moment before speaking again. "Closure," he echoed softly. "Perhaps that's something we both need. And Teddy?"

My eyes drop to the ground, avoiding his penetrating gaze. "It's a messy situation, but I had to leave. I've been crashing at my friend Bella's place until I can scrape together enough money for a divorce."

His voice drips with insinuation and I feel my skin prickle with unease. "Oh, how convenient," he sneers. "I knew eventually you would come to your senses, although I thought our night together would have been enough to break you free." My stomach churns at his words.

The atmosphere in the room grew heavy with unspoken tension as their words hung in the air like charged lightning bolts ready to strike.

"You had no right to think that one night could define me or my decisions." I spat.

Harry's eyes flashed with a mix of surprise and something darker as my words cut through the tension between us. "And what right did you have to enter my life again after all this time, Y/N?" he countered sharply, his jaw clenched in frustration.

I squared my shoulders, meeting his challenging gaze head-on. "I didn't come here seeking your approval, Harry," I retorted, my voice steady despite the turmoil inside me. "I came for myself, to find closure and move on."

He leaned forward, his expression unreadable as he studied me intently. "Closure," he repeated, the word hanging heavily between us. "Is that truly what you need? Or is there something else driving you here?"

A flicker of vulnerability crossed my features before I could stop it, and I felt exposed under his piercing scrutiny. "Maybe it's both," I admitted quietly, feeling the weight of years of unresolved emotions pressing down on me.

Harry's gaze softened slightly, a hint of understanding creeping into his eyes. "I see," he murmured, a touch of regret coloring his tone. "Perhaps we both have demons to face before we can truly move forward."

I nodded slowly, acknowledging the truth in his words. "Maybe so," I agreed, a sense of resignation settling over me. "But facing them together might be easier than doing it alone."

Silence enveloped us for a moment, broken only by the sound of our breathing mingling in the charged atmosphere of the room. Finally, Harry spoke again, his voice softer now. "I never stopped thinking about you, Y/N," he confessed quietly. "Despite everything that happened between us."

My heart clenched at his words, memories flooding back with a force that left me breathless. "I never forgot you either," I whispered, a bittersweet ache settling in my chest.

A myriad of emotions played across Harry's features - longing, regret, and something else I couldn't quite decipher. "Then perhaps we owe it to ourselves to confront the past and see where it leads us, Pleasing has a nice legal plan I can lend to you for a divorce." he suggested tentatively.

I met his gaze, seeing a glimmer of hope reflected in those intense green eyes that had once been my undoing. "Maybe we do," I agreed softly, a sense of anticipation stirring within me.

I stood outside the courtroom, my heart racing with a mix of nerves and anticipation. Today was the day I had been waiting for - the day I could finally end this marriage and start a new chapter in my life. But as I took a deep breath and stepped inside, my eyes were immediately drawn to the sight of Teddy sitting at a table with his lawyer, confidently flipping through some papers.

Next to him sat Rosie, her perfectly styled hair and expensive outfit standing out like a sore thumb among the drab courtroom surroundings. She smiled smugly in my direction as if she knew something I didn't, and suddenly all my confidence wavered.

My lawyer squeezed my hand reassuringly as we walked towards our side of the court, but I couldn't help feeling like an underdog in this battle. How had Teddy managed to go back to Rosie so quickly while still begging for me just a few weeks earlier? And how long had this been going on?

As we began the proceedings, I listened half-heartedly as their lawyer presented their case - painting me as an unfit wife who refused to support her husband's successful career. The lies stung, but I held back from speaking out.

It wasn't until it was my turn to speak that I found my voice. My lawyer had prepared a strong case for me - highlighting all of Teddy's infidelities and emotional abuse throughout our marriage. As I spoke about his controlling behavior and manipulation tactics, Rosie's smug expression faltered.

But when it was time for Teddy to speak, he denied everything with such conviction that even I started doubting myself. His words were smooth and calculated, painting me as an unstable woman who couldn't handle his success.

I felt my anger bubbling up inside me - how dare he twist the truth like this? But before I could say anything, Rosie jumped in with her own version of events. She talked about how supportive Teddy had been during their brief affair, and how I was just a jealous ex who couldn't move on.

As Rosie spoke, her words felt like sharp knives twisting in my chest. The betrayal and deceit were too much to bear, she was the one who was sleeping with my husband. I clenched my fists, trying to hold back the flood of emotions threatening to overwhelm me. But then, a familiar voice cut through the tense atmosphere.

"Objection, Your Honor!"

I turned to see my lawyer standing up, his expression firm and determined. "These allegations are baseless and unsubstantiated. My client has provided ample evidence of Mr. Teddy's infidelity and emotional abuse. I request that these false claims be stricken from the record."

The judge nodded solemnly, looking at Teddy and Rosie with a steely gaze. "I will not tolerate false accusations in my courtroom. Stick to the facts."

Teddy shifted uncomfortably in his seat, a flicker of uncertainty crossing his face. Rosie, on the other hand, remained composed, a smug smile playing on her lips.

"I have evidence that will prove my client's case, Your Honor," she declared confidently. "I request permission to present it."

The judge nodded again, signaling for Rosie to proceed. She stood up gracefully, producing a stack of papers from her briefcase.

"These documents show that Mr. Teddy was out of town on the dates in question," she began, flipping through the pages with ease. "He could not have been at the locations alleged by Mrs. Y/N."

I felt a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. Could it be true? Had I been mistaken all along? Her proof was just texts from Teddy to her saying he was out of town. Which proves nothing, if anything it was more incriminating.

But then, just as doubt started to creep in, a sudden realization hit me like a bolt of lightning.

"Your Honor," I interrupted, my voice trembling but resolute. "I have proof that Mr. Teddy and Ms. Rosie colluded to fabricate alibis and deceive me. They were working together against me all along."

The courtroom fell into stunned silence as I presented the evidence that exposed their treachery. Teddy's face drained of color, while Rosie's mask of composure finally cracked.

"I-I can explain," Teddy stammered, but it was too late.

The judge slammed his gavel down with finality. "Case closed. Divorce granted in favor of Mrs. Y/N. You are to pay her a monthly settlement of alimony."

As I walked out of the courtroom, a weight lifted off my shoulders. It was finally over - the lies, the betrayal, the manipulation. I could start anew with a sense of freedom and clarity.

And as I glanced back one last time at Teddy and Rosie, their faces twisted with defeat, I knew that justice had been served. 

Waiting outside of the courtroom was Harry with a grin, he did a sassy wave to Rosie and Teddy.

"Congratulations, Y/N," Harry said, wrapping an arm around my shoulders and kissing the top of my forehead. "You did it."

I couldn't help but smile, feeling a sense of relief and satisfaction wash over me. "I couldn't have done it without you, Harry. Thank you for everything."

"Always, love," he replied with a gentle smile.

As we walked out of the courthouse hand in hand, I couldn't help but feel grateful for having Harry by my side. 

"I'm so glad this is all over," I said with a sigh, leaning into him as we reached his car.

"Yeah, me too," he agreed, unlocking the door and helping me inside before making his way to the driver's seat.

As we drove away from the courthouse, I couldn't help but feel a sense of closure. My marriage may have ended in betrayal and deceit but now I was free to move on and start over.

"So what's next for you?" Harry asked as we drove through the city streets.

“ I think we should celebrate.” I looked at him with a playful smile.

"Celebrate?" Harry raised an eyebrow, feigning surprise. "And what did you have in mind for this celebration, Mrs. Y/N?"

I grinned mischievously, leaning over to gently tap his knee. "Oh, nothing too wild. Maybe just a quiet dinner for two at a cozy little bistro."

"A quiet dinner, hmm?" Harry's smirk grew wider. "And what about later, when we're no longer 'quiet'? Any ideas for that celebration?"

"Well," I purred, eyeing him up and down playfully. "That all depends on how good of a date you turn out to be."

"I'll have you know," he countered confidently, "that I'm an excellent date."

"Oh really? And what sort of things do excellent dates do to impress their partners?" I challenged him with a teasing glint in my eye.

Harry chuckled softly before leaning closer to me. "I believe the key to impressing you, love," he whispered against my ear, sending shivers down my spine, "lies somewhere between your pasta and your dessert."

"And exactly how do you plan on pulling that off?" I asked skeptically but with undeniable curiosity piqued within me. 

"Oh," he smirked wickedly as he brushed a strand of hair away from my face. "I'm sure I can come up with something...tasty."

We arrived at the bistro and Harry led me inside, his hand resting on my lower back. The smell of freshly baked bread and spices filled my nostrils as we were greeted by the friendly hostess. She guided us to a cozy booth in the corner of the restaurant before handing us each a menu.

As we perused through the options, I couldn't help but feel grateful for this moment with Harry. Despite the chaos that had been my life recently, he was there to make me smile and forget about all my worries. I was grateful to be able to be like this with him.

"You know," Harry said, breaking the comfortable silence between us, "I haven't had a proper date night in ages."

I smiled at him. Soon after the waiter came to take our orders and after much deliberation, we settled on sharing a few appetizers and ordering our own entrees. As we waited for our food to arrive, Harry reached across the table to take hold of my hand.

"I'm proud of you," he said sincerely, giving my hand a reassuring squeeze. "You handled everything with grace and strength."

I felt tears welling up in my eyes at his words. It meant so much to have Harry's support and encouragement through everything I had been going through.

"Thank you," I replied softly, unable to find any other words to express how much his words meant to me.

Our food arrived shortly after and we dug into our dishes with enthusiasm. We laughed and joked as we shared bites of each other's meals, savoring every moment together.

After dinner, Harry insisted on treating me to dessert at a nearby ice cream shop. We walked through the bustling streets hand in hand, enjoying each other's company in the warm summer night.

As we sat on a bench outside the shop, enjoying our ice cream. 

My voice trembles as I stare at Harry, regret and guilt weighing heavily on my chest. "I should've left Teddy that night after the motel," I confess, tears welling up in my eyes. "But I was scared. Scared of losing my residency, scared of facing my family's disappointment. I thought I could endure it for a while longer, or that he would be the one to leave first." My words choke in my throat, coming out as a desperate plea for forgiveness.

"I'm so sorry, Harry," I continue, my voice shaking. "I never meant to hurt you or lead you on. I was just...lost and confused."

Harry's expression softens as he takes in my words. He reaches out to brush away a tear that falls from my eye.

"You don't have to apologize, love," he says gently. "I understand why you stayed with him. But I wish you had told me sooner."

The guilt bubbles up inside of me, threatening to drown me in its heavy weight. How could I have been so blind and selfish? How could I have hurt someone who cared?

"I'll make it right, Harry," I promise him, wiping away the tears from my cheeks.

Harry's eyes light up with hope as he grasps my hand tightly.

"We'll face this together," he says firmly, determination evident in his voice.

And just like that, the burden on my shoulders feels a little bit lighter knowing that I have Harry by my side.

"It's okay," he whispers soothingly, kissing the top of my head. "You did the right thing.”

We finish our ice cream in comfortable silence before heading back to Harry's flat.

"Can I ask you something?" I say, breaking the silence.

"Of course," Harry replies, squeezing my hand reassuringly.

"Why did you never tell me your feelings before?" I ask, feeling a little hesitant.

Harry pauses for a moment before answering. "I didn't want to pressure you or make things awkward between us," he admits. "I wanted you to be happy and if that meant staying with Teddy, then I accepted it. So I left, I couldn’t see you in that situation."

Tears prick at the corners of my eyes as I realize just how selfless and understanding Harry has always been despite his hardened appearence. He truly cares.

"I'm sorry for being so blind," I say softly.

"It's okay," Harry reassures me. "We all make mistakes."

My heart was pounding as we entered the safety of his flat, my senses heightened by the lingering scent of his cologne. Our fingers traced each other's as he deftly made two cups of steaming tea, every touch sending sparks dancing up my arm.

"Would you like a touch of cream?" Harry asked seductively, a teasing smile playing along his lips. His sultry voice sent trepidating waves through me, igniting an insatiable desire that twisted in my belly.

The sight of him leaning casually against the kitchen counter, bathed in soft light, stirred a primal need within me. I watched as he poured a dash of cream into my cup. The way it swirled and mingled with the dark liquid mirrored our own dance - two intricate beings melding to form something far more tantalizing. 

"Thank you," I murmured, accepting the warm mug from his hand. My fingers brushed against his, eliciting a delicate shiver that rippled down my spine. "I couldn't have asked for anyone better..."

As we navigated our way towards the plush sofa, our bodies brushed together, the heat between us flaring like a bonfire on a cold night. The taste of our shared dinner still lingered on our tongues as we sipped on our teas; notes of cocoa and warm spices cascading over our taste buds.

He leaned back onto the couch, pulling me with him until I was nestled comfortably against his side. A silence fell upon us as we enjoyed our drinks; comfortable and yet teeming with an unspoken promise of what was to come.

"There's no rush," Harry purred into my ear, allowing his fingers to trace lazy circles around my wrist. His hot breath fanned out across my heated skin, setting off tremors beneath my flesh. "Let's just enjoy this moment."

His words washed over me like scalding water, igniting a yearning that threatened to consume us both. I finished my tea swiftly, setting the empty cup on the coffee table before turning back to Harry.

"Harry," I breathed out, staring into his deep emerald eyes. They were dark with desire, a mirror of my own want. "I want you...now."

With those words, our evening took on an entirely new flavor - one more intimate and fervently carnal than the most decadent dessert. And as I let go of all inhibitions and allowed myself to drown in Harry's love- the guilt and fear felt like distant memories.

Where there had been tears earlier now blossomed laughter and sighs of pleasure, echoing off the walls of Harry's flat. The heat between us couldn't be contained within mere cups of tea. It was a passionate flame that ignited every sense, searing through every inch of our bodies as we began to explore each other with newfound fervor and desperation.

The room seemed to shrink as my words echoed around us. I could feel myself growing wetter by the second, my heart pounding in anticipation of what was to come. Without another word, he stood up and pulled me close, our bodies pressing tightly against each other.

My hands found their way to his strong shoulders, digging into his skin as he claimed my lips once more. I moaned deeply into the kiss, tasting the tea we just drank on his tongue as he explored every inch of my mouth. His hands traveled down my back, over my ass cheeks, until they reached the hem of my dress.

I gasped as he lifted me off the ground with ease, carrying me towards the bedroom. My legs wrapped tightly around his waist, pulling him closer still. As we entered the room he kicked the door shut behind us, locking us in together.

As he backed me towards the bed, his cock growing hard, he paused to look down at me. His eyes dark and hungry as he took in the scene laid out before him. "You look so fucking sexy like this," he growled out, his voice rough with desire. I moaned in response, my fingers curling into the sheets beneath us as he lowered me onto the mattress.

His lips trailed hot kisses down my jawline and across my collarbone before moving southward. He nipped at my sensitive flesh while his hands explored every inch of my body, tracing patterns around my tits through the lace fabric of my bra. My breath hitched as his warm mouth hovered over my nipples, making them stand at attention.

"Please," I whispered, arching into him as he teased one of my hardened nubs between his fingers and thumb. His tongue circled around it before finally drawing it into his mouth, sucking on it with such force that I cried out in pleasure.

He pulled away slightly, looking down at me with a smirk that made my stomach do flips. "I'm going to fuck you so good, baby girl." His eyes bore into mine as he slowly undid his pants, revealing his already hard cock straining against his boxers. My mouth watered at the sight of him; all 8 inches of thickness glistening with pre-cum that reflected the light in the room.

I reached up to grab his shirt, pulling him down towards me as I wrapped my legs around his waist again. He groaned into the kiss, deepening it as he lowered himself onto the bed between my spread legs. His teeth grazed against my bottom lip before trailing hot kisses down my neck and chest.

"Fuck," he muttered under his breath as he reached behind me to undo the clasp holding together my bra. It fell away from me revealing puckered nipples begging for attention which he eagerly obliged by taking one into his mouth while pinching the other between two fingers causing tiny whimpers to escape from deep within me. 

His lips trailed down my stomach, stopping momentarily to press kisses to my belly button before continuing their journey south. I shivered with anticipation as his fingers hooked into the sides of my lace panties, pulling them down and off of me in one swift motion.

He took a moment to admire me, spread out before him, completely exposed and vulnerable. His gaze traveled over every inch of me, causing goosebumps to rise on my skin.

"God, you're beautiful," he murmured, before diving back in between my legs. His tongue flicked against my clit sending shockwaves of pleasure through me. I gripped onto the sheets tighter as he continued to tease and lick at my most sensitive spot.

I could feel myself getting closer and closer to the edge, his expert mouth bringing me to the brink. Just when I thought I couldn't take it any longer, he pulled away with a smirk on his face.

"Not yet," he said huskily, crawling back up towards me. He kissed me hard on the lips while positioning himself between my legs. I felt his tip brush against my entrance and I lifted my hips in response.

The room around us was hazy from the scent of our arousal, and I couldn't help but feel like I was in a dream as he continued to tease me. With every lick and nip, his touch sent shockwaves of pleasure through me. My body arched off the bed in response to his expert ministrations, my breasts pressed against his strong chest.

"You taste so fucking good," he groaned, his voice dark and rough with need. His hands slid up my thighs, teasingly close to my aching desire before moving away again. It was driving me crazy!

"Please," I begged him. "I can't take much more."

He chuckled deep in his throat, the sound sending shivers down my spine. "Oh, you think you can handle me?" He leaned down and flicked his tongue gently over my clitoris again, making me gasp in surprise at the intense sensation. "We'll see about that."

I couldn't believe how turned on I was by his dominance. As he continued to tease me, I imagined what it would be like to fully submit to him—to let him take control of my body and pleasure me however he saw fit. It was terrifying yet exhilarating all at once.

It felt like hours (or maybe just minutes?) before he finally eased himself into me, filling me up with his thick cock. I gasped at the sudden intrusion but moaned in delight as he began to move slowly inside me. Every thrust sent violent shudders through my body as we found our rhythm together—his hard and demanding possessions; mine willingly given submission underneath him amidst silk pillows and warm blankets scattered across the sheets beneath us.

I wrapped my legs around his waist, pulling him deeper into me, wanting more, needing more. His hands gripped onto my hips, holding me in place as he continued to thrust into me with increasing speed and force.

I could feel the pleasure building inside of me, growing and swelling until it was almost unbearable. My nails dug into his back as I cried out his name, consumed by the intensity of our union.

He leaned down and captured my lips in a fiery kiss that only added fuel to the fire burning between us. Our bodies moved together in perfect synchronization, reaching higher levels of ecstasy with each passing moment.

The bed rocked beneath us as we gave into pure primal desire. He was an unstoppable force, taking everything from me and giving it back tenfold.

"Fuck," he groaned against my lips, his voice thick with need. "You're so tight."

"Oh, God," I moaned, my toes curling against the sheets. "Don't stop."

He didn't listen to me of course; instead, he continued to pound into me relentlessly, driving me towards the edge again and again until I couldn't take it anymore. My orgasm crashed over me like a tidal wave, consuming every ounce of my being and leaving me shaking in its wake. He followed close behind with a muffled groan as he spilled himself inside of me. He collapsed on top of me, both of us gasping for breath as we came down from our high.

We lay there tangled together for a few moments before he rolled off of me onto his side. He pulled me against him, his arm wrapped tightly around my waist.

"Wow," I finally managed to say.

We lay there panting for several minutes afterward, our heartbeats echoing in our ears above everything else around us.

Finally, he disentangled himself from me and collapsed next to me on the bed, both of us spent and covered in a sheen of sweat.

"Fuck," he breathed out as he ran a hand through his damp hair.

"That was..." I trailed off unable to find the words to describe the intensity of our union.

He let out a bitter, exhausted chuckle laced with satisfaction. "I swore I'd never marry again, but if this is what life could be like on a regular basis, I may have to reconsider," he muttered through gritted teeth. The thought of committing himself again brought a surge of both fear and longing, but for the first time in years, he felt alive.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm glow over the landscape, he turned to me with a mix of vulnerability and determination in his eyes. "I never thought I'd find someone who could make me question my own convictions," he said softly, reaching out to gently touch my hand.

I looked back at him, her own eyes filled with understanding and a hint of mischief. "Maybe it's time to rewrite those old promises," I suggested, a smile playing on my lips.

A sense of peace settled over him as he realized that maybe, just maybe, he was ready to take a chance on love once more. With a hopeful heart and a newfound sense of purpose, he whispered, "Maybe it is." 

As the last rays of sunlight slipped beneath the horizon, their eyes locked and they both felt an electric current surge through their bodies. It was a sign that their journey together was just starting and would be filled with endless twists and turns, but they were ready for the challenge.

[natalievoncatte]

5. Alone

CONTENT WARNING: This ficlet includes themes of self harm and contains some heavy sexual content and themes.

The void called.

Lena heard its siren song for hours, even before she left the lab. She was sick, belly sick, soul sick. Running on fumes, running on whiskey for breakfast and rage. She’d been awake thirty six hours, fumbling with the Myriad module as she plumbed its secrets. Hiding within the alien metal bauble was what she wanted most, a world without deception, without pain, without crime or loss or hate or fear. No more wars, no more muggings, and no more lies.

Soon she could look Kara in the eyes and scream. Look what I did! Look at my work! I fixed the world, not you! No more crimes to stop, Supergirl. The world doesn’t need you anymore. I don’t need you anymore.

(but could she still say that in a world without lies?)

Lena stumbled into her apartment, head filled with dark thoughts, hateful thoughts, unwanted thoughts. Non Nocere would free her from them. No more pining for soft touches or stolen glances, no more dreams of feeling fingers slipping through silken sunny hair. No more waking up riding her own hand thinking about back muscles flexing or protective hands cupping her thighs.

No more more dreams of sunrise companions. She could rip it all out of herself and at last be alone.

Lena wasn’t going to look at the picture. She wasn’t, she wasn’t! Her hands betrayed her, her addled mind loosened by alcohol and sleep deprivation. She should have flung the fucking thing out the window but every time she tried her hand rebelled and she ended up clutching the shattered glass to her chest and wished she could impale herself on it.

The memory of the picture burned her. Alex had snapped it, an impromptu capture of the girls at game night. Kara’s cheek had been soft against hers and so very warm, just like her. She was soft and hard at the same time, the best hugger in the world.

Lena sobbed, because she was alone and she always would be.

It hit her all at once, crashing in from every direction. When she closed her eyes all she could see was the horror in Kara’s eyes, the terror of realization. That was what Lena wanted, right?

(It was what you wanted, you stupid bitch. Look at what you did.)

Fuck this, fuck it, fuck it all.

Lena stormed through her empty cold sterile apartment and onto the balcony. Grabbing a chair as makeshift stairs, she stepped up and onto the rail. Had to do it now. Had to.

Only to two people has she ever mattered. One slipped beneath the waves and left her and the other, she locked in a cage and robbed. She couldn’t save her mother and she’d backstabbed her best friend. It was in the blood.

Lena stepped into empty air and fell.

Below her, the street yawned wide, empty of traffic at this hour. It rocketed towards her and she had a horrific, bowel-watering realization.

The only thing in her life that could not be fixed was that she just threw herself off a goddamn building.

Lena screamed, shrieked for her life, the name tearing from the depths of her chest in a painful cry.

It didn’t matter.

She fell anyway.

Then she saw it, a red and blue streak in the corner of her vision. Too close, too low.

Goodbye, Kara. I’m sorry.

Kara flew beneath her, catching her not with her arms but her entire body, Lena’s jaw clicking and stomach flipping at the deceleration. Too late, too late.

No.

Kara slowed their descent, too fast, sending a jolt through her. The impact came and as Lena felt the shockwave pass through her body, she knew she was dead. All she wanted to do was tell Kara she was sorry, beg her forgiveness for making her see it.

Slamming to the pavement, Kara landed on her back, cratering the asphalt. It folded up around her like petals of a strange flower and sent up a cloud of dust and debris. Her arms closed around Lena and she cried out in shock and fear.

I’m alive, Lena thought.

Gathering Lena with her, Kara stood up and took off immediately. Lena crushed herself against Kara’s body as she lifted up, cresting above the balcony with a heavy thud of Kara’s boot heels. Kara said nothing, bearing her inside. Only then did Lena’s feet touch the ground.

Kara was feral, blazing, holding a quaking Lena by the shoulders.

“What happened?” she demanded. “Did someone attack you? There’s no one here. What the hell happened? Lena? Lena? Say something! God damn it answer me!”

Lena’s voice was small, broken.

“I jumped.”

Kara’s eyes went wide and her mouth fell open in almost comical surprise.

“Why… no, no no no Lena please no.”

Kara lunged into a hug, almost painfully embracing her. Lena’s walls fell, all the pain and hate shedding from her like skin from a snake. She was alive, alive and alive, and Kara was sobbing, her entire body shaking with grief and pain.

“I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry, please Lena I please, I love you I love you I love you!”

They both went utterly still. Lena blinked a few times; the blood rushing to her skull nearly stealing her from consciousness. It was like she’d been thrown into an ice bath.

There could be no mistaking Kara’s meaning. She didn’t mean friendship love, she didn’t mean side-hug brunch time love. There was a truth in her voice as potent and hot as her self-righteous arrogance and shocking, seemingly endless kindness. She meant love in the deepest sense of the word, the most raw, the most unbearable.

That was when Lena kissed her.

Kara hesitated, but something in her must have snapped because she kissed Lena so deeply, so filthily, that it was as if she meant to consume her entirely. Lena was dimly aware that property damage was happening- Kara simply tossed the entire sofa aside with a free hand as she stormed across the apartment.

She didn’t pick Lena up, Lena climbed her, locking her legs around Kara’s waist, shuddering at the feeling of powerful muscles flexing against her thighs.

No words were exchanged, only kisses that bordered on violent. Kara showed no more concern for Lena’s clothes than her decor, shredding through a designer outfit that cost as much as a car.

Only then did she stop, shocking Lena with the sudden withdrawal. Her restraint made her entire body shudder, stopping herself with same force as stopping a runaway freight train.

“Do you want this?” she panted.

Lena lunged up and grabbed the collar of her suit, yanking down. The most powerful being on Earth yielded to her without resistance.

“Yes,” Lena panted.

Kara shed her suit, wriggling out of it in a sensuous display that drove Lena wild. Once she was free and they were both bare, it began.

Kara held nothing back. She used her powers. Super-speed. Vibration. Even her freeze breath. It was as if she knew exactly what Lena wanted and needed, reading her body like an open book, playing her like an instrument, and she was relentless. It was like making love to a hurricane.

Only when Lena pressed a hand to Kara’s chest did it stop. Her entire manner changed in an instant and she became soft, handling Lena like something precious and irreplaceable, attending to her every need until her head landed on the pillow and sleep took her in an irresistible wave.

When her eyes snapped open, she was sure she would be alone. It had to be a fantasy or a vivid dream, but it felt real. She was loose and pleasantly sore at the same time, and felt an odd sense of weight around her.

Tears forced themselves to her eyes. She was damned, doomed to wake up alone forever, and then Kara moved, sighing contentedly. She pulled Lena closer, into her bare breasts and the silken embrace of her unclothed skin beneath the silk sheets. Lena’s heart almost seized.

“Kara?”

“Hi, baby.”

“You’re really here?”

“Yeah.”

“You saved me.”

“I always save you.”

Lena choked back a sob and rolled over into Kara’s arms, tucked into her, and buried her face in Kara’s neck as she swept her fingers up and down Lena’s back in a soothing gesture.

“Kara, I’m sorry,” she began.

“Shhhhh,” said Kara. “I forgive you.”

“But you can’t just do that.”

“I can, and I will. Can you forgive me?”

“Yes,” Lena whispered.

“Good,” said Kara. “Now I just hope Alex forgives me for plowing a fifteen foot wide crater in the street outside.”

Lena laughed through her tears, and she wasn’t alone.

[wholoveseggs]

hii

A gem was gardener part 1 wait ing for other parts desperately...

Also a tiny request plz make it a nice smutty happy ending cuz my heart broke after rules

Thanku love (in klaus voice:))))

The Gardener {Part Two}

18+ ---- {Masterlist} {Tag-List}

Part Two

Your mission to seduce Elijah continues, and it's becoming harder and harder to separate your feelings for him from your duty. Your ancestors call out to you, warning of death and destruction, and tensions within the coven are high. Your time is running out, and you have to find the white oak ash, and soon.

♡♡ ...Hiii anon, don't worry about it darling! ... the end will be the end and I promise it won't hurt {a lot} ~xoxo.♡♡

4.2k words - Warnings: smuuuuut, oral sex {f!receiving}, interrogation with a side of breakfast, visions, angst, deception, lies, a stupid self referencing joke, blurred lines, Klaus ruining the moment and lots of tension...

{Part One}{Part Three}{Part Four}

{Elijah Mikaelson Tag-List }

@gorgeouslydangerous @starkleila @lydia1369sworld @notleylaaa @vampiresluv

@myanmy @xflowerbombxo @maryvibess @always-and-forever-daydreaming

@spnaquakindgdom @amournoir @meeom @damienmorton @wickedmuse

@cs-please @complicatedandconfusing-25 @youcanhavemybuckanyday @akala6670229 @yeaiamme2

@itsjulzandmydiamonds @witch-of-letters @elijahstwink @rosecentury

@amanda08319 @starshipcookie @li-da-savage @veggie-eggrolls @spideybv28

@sunkissedebony97 @idk00sblog @savannaounana @sekaishell @b1tchy

@loving-and-dreaming @fancycassie-stayfancy @hcqwxrtss123 @iamawkwardandshy @ziayamikaelson

@absolutemarveltrash @darkened-writer @nina6708 @evasmlp

The following week had been filled with work, keeping up the appearance of an innocent gardener. It was easy enough, the herb beds were finished and now all you needed to do was keep them maintained and watered. It was a pleasant task, especially compared to the tasks ahead of you.

You had been avoiding Elijah, Agnes told you not to use him unless absolutely necessary, and so far, he had left you alone. He had been polite, friendly, but his presence had been a constant shadow. Stolen glances and flirty smiles, he was clearly interested.

You had tried to ignore him, but every time you saw him, you felt a rush of excitement and dread. He was the enemy, and yet, his presence made your heart flutter and your stomach churn. It was foolish, reckless, dangerous, and yet, there was no denying the pull.

It was early morning when you arrived at the compound, the air was cold and misty, the sun had just started to peek above the horizon. The courtyard was empty, and the whole compound was quiet, almost eerily so.

"Gardner! Just who I was looking for," Klaus' voice rang out, making you jump.

You spun around to find him leaning against the railing on the second floor, a grin on his face.

"Good morning, Mr. Mikaelson," you greeted, trying to keep the fear from your voice. "What can I do for you?"

He strolled down the stairs and approached you, a cocky smile on his lips.

"I was wondering if you would care to join me for breakfast?" He asked, stopping a few feet away from you.

You looked up at him, your stomach twisting with anxiety. You had hoped to avoid him as long as possible.

"Come now," he said, his voice smooth and seductive, "don't be shy."

You nodded, giving him a forced smile. He led you to the dining room, holding out a chair for you.

"Please," he said, gesturing to the seat. "Surely, you're hungry, and we have some things to discuss,"

You sat down, and he sat at the head of the table, looking pleased with himself. A number of servants came and went, bringing plates and glasses. One stopped and slit their wrist, pouring blood into a glass for Klaus, their expression empty.

You looked away, your stomach churning, you hated the sight of blood. The smell of the food made you nauseous, and the thought of eating was unbearable.

"So, my brother tells me you are a witch, I don't recall seeing that on your resume," he said, picking up his wine glass and swirling the blood inside.

"I didn't think it was necessary," you replied, trying to keep your voice even.

"Yes, well," he paused, taking a sip, "I'm sure you are aware of the current...situation,"

You nodded, avoiding his gaze, trying to quell your nausea. Klaus chuckled at your unease.

"Eggs?" He offered, holding up a plate.

"No, thank you," you said, forcing a smile.

He shrugged, setting the plate down and digging into the pile of food in front of him.

"The witches have been rather troublesome, plotting against my family," he said, taking a bite of sausage. "Do you know anything about that?"

"I'm afraid not," you lied, looking at him.

"Hmm," he mused, chewing slowly, his eyes narrowed.

"Why do you think I would be involved in any sort of plots?" You asked, taking a bite of toast. "Awfully presumptuous to lump all witches together, like we are some sort of monolithic entity."

"You are a witch, and I am a vampire, and our relationship is...contentious at best," he said, his blue eyes sparkling. "Besides, I have heard rumblings, whispers, of a new faction, a new coven-"

"Brother," Elijah's voice interrupted.

You looked over to see him enter the room, his expression stern. He gave Klaus a disapproving look before sitting down next to you at the table.

"Y/n," he said, smiling at you. "How are the herb beds coming along?"

"Very well, thank you," you replied, relieved by the interruption.

"Eggs?" Klaus offered, holding up the plate again.

"No, thank you," Elijah said, a hint of annoyance in his tone.

"You love eggs," Klaus teased, shoveling a forkful of egg into his mouth.

"Yes, but I am not in the mood," Elijah said, his voice sharp.

Klaus raised an eyebrow, and Elijah shook his head.

"Are you planning on interrogating her the entire meal?" Elijah said, looking over at his brother.

Klaus shrugged, shoveling another forkful of eggs into his mouth. "Whatever do you mean Elijah? This is simply a friendly breakfast,"

"It doesn't seem friendly," Elijah retorted, "and I think the poor girl is uncomfortable,"

"You worry too much, brother," Klaus said, grinning. "She's perfectly fine, aren't you?" He looked over at you.

"Yes, I'm fine," you said, trying to hide the unease in your voice.

"See?" Klaus said, giving Elijah a smug look. "There's nothing to worry about."

Elijah sighed and poured you a cup of coffee, pushing it towards you.

"Please, drink," he said, offering a sympathetic smile. "I'm sorry, my brother can be a bit...difficult,"

"Hey," Klaus interjected, his expression indignant. "I'm sitting right here."

Elijah ignored him and continued, "how are the herbs? Do you need any help with anything?"

"Everything is fine, thank you," you replied, taking a sip of the coffee. "I... Do have a question though,"

"Anything," Elijah said, looking at you, his hand resting on the table next to yours. You could feel the heat from his body, the tension between the two of you.

"Your choice of herbs, was that intentional?" You asked, looking up at him.

Klaus' eyebrows shot up, his gaze curious. "What do you mean?"

"The herbs in the greenhouse," you clarified, "you chose them for their magical properties, didn't you?"

"We did," Elijah admitted, his gaze thoughtful.

"What did you hope to accomplish with them?" You pressed, wanting more information.

Elijah was silent for a moment, his gaze fixed on the table, then he looked at Klaus, an unreadable expression on his face.

"Call it a precaution," Klaus said, leaning back in his chair, his arms folded across his chest.

"A precaution?" You asked, confused.

Neither of them answered, but you could feel the tension in the room. There was an unspoken conversation going on between the brothers, and you were missing something.

"You worry about the wrong things," Klaus finally said, his gaze locked on Elijah. "Just get the job done and you will be well compensated,"

Elijah gave his brother a hard look, and then turned his attention back to you, a polite smile on his face.

"I can walk you back to the greenhouse," he offered, standing up.

"And leave all this food for me to eat?" Klaus exclaimed, his tone teasing.

Elijah ignored him and took your arm, helping you stand up.

"It was lovely having breakfast with you," Elijah said softly as he walked you to the door. "Perhaps we can do it again sometime."

"Sure," you said, not sure how else to respond.

The greenhouse was quiet when you returned, the sun streaming through the windows. You could smell the herbs, their fragrance filling the air. Elijah stood beside you, his hands in his pockets.

"Can we talk?" he asked, his tone gentle.

"Of course," you replied, looking up at him.

He smiled, and reached out, taking your hand in his. Your heart was pounding, your stomach churning. You had to keep reminding yourself that he was a killer, not the handsome and charming man he was portraying himself to be.

"I was hoping we could continue where we left off the other night," he said, his eyes dark with desire.

You swallowed, trying to push down the feelings that were threatening to overtake you.

"Elijah," you began, but he cut you off, pressing his lips to yours. You melted into the kiss, his hand resting on the small of your back, pulling you in close.

"I've been thinking about you," he murmured against your lips, "about that kiss,."

He stepped forward, moving you backwards until you hit the workbench. His hands rested on your hips, lifting you up and setting you down on the counter.

You couldn't deny how hot he was, or how much you enjoyed him taking control. You didn't have to pretend, not right now. The constant whispering of the ancestors fell silent, the stress and pressure you were under was lifted, if only for a moment.

You smiled against his lips, running your hands up his chest.

"I can't get you out of my mind," he whispered, his hand running through your hair.

You laughed softly, "Have I cast a spell on you?"

"If you did, I wouldn't mind," he said, his eyes dancing with amusement.

His hands moved slowly up your thighs, searching for the buttons of your pants. You giggled as he struggled, his fingers fumbling. He pulled back and looked down, frowning in confusion.

"You have to start up here," you smiled, biting your lip, pointing to the buckles of your overalls. "You probably don't hook up with a lot of women wearing these."

He smiled, mildly flustered. "I've taken off much more complicated garments than this," he said, flipping the buckles and tugging your pants down.

It was a bit of an awkward struggle to get them off, the two of you giggling and fumbling around. Finally, he was able to tug them past your hips, pulling them off and tossing them to the side.

He leaned forward, pressing his lips to yours, his tongue exploring your mouth. You wrapped your legs around him, pulling him closer. He chuckled against your lips and slid his hands under your shirt, caressing your breasts. You moaned softly, arching your back, pressing into his touch.

His hands moved down your sides, sliding over your hips and thighs, pulling you closer. You could feel his arousal, hard and insistent, pressing against you.

"Am I moving too fast?" He asked, his eyes searching yours.

"Not at all," you whispered, kissing him.

He grinned, his thumb gently grazing over the swollen nub peeking through your panties ,a little wet patch had formed, the cotton clinging to you. You grabbed his shoulders, pulling him closer. He chuckled and kissed you, his fingers moving slowly, exploring, teasing.

"Oh, you're so sensitive," he said, his voice low and seductive. "And beautiful."

Your fingers curled into his shirt, your eyes locked with his. He smiled, watching you react, enjoying the effect he was having on you.

"You like that?" He asked, his voice a deep purr.

"Yes," you whispered, your cheeks flushed.

"Good," he said, his finger slipping into you, making you gasp.

He hummed, his fingers moving in and out of you in a firm, steady rhythm. You were so wet, the filthy sounds were audible in the quiet of the greenhouse. He pressed his lips to yours, his fingers continuing their pace, driving you crazy. Your hands slid down, unbuckling his belt and fumbling with his zipper.

"In a hurry?" He teased, his breath warm on your skin.

"A little," you moaned, your eyes squeezed shut.

He chuckled, pulling his fingers from you, causing you to whine in protest. He knelt down, his hands sliding up your thighs, gripping the edge of your panties.

"Let me," he said, tugging the wet garment down and off.

You bit your lip, watching him, your heart pounding. He grinned, his hands pushing your knees apart. His tongue ran along the inside of your thigh, making you shudder. He paused, his gaze moving up, meeting yours.

"Is this alright?" He asked, his fingers tracing circles on the smooth skin.

"Yes," you whispered, your eyes fixed on him.

He smirked and then buried his face between your thighs, his tongue lapping at your swollen, slick cunt. You let out a moan, your hand grabbing onto his hair, pulling him closer.

He was good, infuriatingly so, his tongue licking and swirling, driving you wild. You could feel your climax building, the tension rising, his hands gripping your thighs, his tongue working its magic.

You were close, so close, your toes curling, your body trembling. You couldn't believe how good it felt, how amazing his mouth felt against your skin.

The silence in your mind was intoxicating, the freedom addictive. The only things that mattered were the waves of pleasure coursing through your body and the feeling of his fingers digging into your hips.

The pressure built, and you writhed, bucking your hips, grinding against his mouth. Reaching, reaching, reaching for the edge, desperate for release.

And then, you fell.

The world exploded in a blinding light, stars dancing behind your eyes. Your body shook, a tingling sensation spreading from your core, to the tips of your toes. The voices came rushing back, and with them visions of the past, of a life lived, of a future yet to be written.

You could see plants wilting, rotting in their pots, a tree splitting, its roots exposed, a forest fire, a raging inferno, consuming everything in its path. Ashes like rain, falling, blanketing the earth. You could hear screams of children, of a mother crying, a woman wailing. You saw blood, so much blood, the air thick with its coppery scent.

You screamed, your eyes wide, your body shaking, the images flooding your mind. It was too much, it was all too much. You couldn't breathe, the weight of it crushing you, suffocating you.

You felt two warm hands on your shoulders, shaking you, a soft, muffled voice calling to you.

"Are you okay? Come back to me, come back,"

Slowly, the images faded, the voices silenced, the pressure eased. Your heart was pounding, sweat covering your skin. You looked up, Elijah's worried expression coming into focus.

"Y/n?" He said, his voice laced with concern.

"I'm... I'm okay," you managed, your voice hoarse.

His hand cupped your cheek, his thumb stroking your skin.

"What happened? You went away for a moment," He asked, his eyes scanning yours, searching for an answer.

"Y-you are just really good at that," you said, giving him a small smile, your voice shaking.

He wasn't convinced, his expression concerned. He was about to say something when Klaus' voice echoed through the greenhouse.

"Brother! Are you still here?"

You and Elijah looked at each other, his hands quickly fixing his pants, before he moved away.You forced a smile, the visions still lingering, the voices of your ancestors had returned, the blissful silence gone. He helped you stand, his hands lingering on your waist, his eyes full of questions. You tried to give him a reassuring smile, but he could see through it.

"Do you need anything? Water, or..." He trailed off, searching for an excuse to stay, to make sure you were okay. "Did I upset you? I... I didn't mean to push."

You shook your head, trying to put him at ease. "No, it's not you, it's... I'm sorry, I can't,"

You were embarrassed, confused. You needed space, time to sort through the images and figure out what they meant.

"You're sure?" He asked, his voice gentle.

"Yeah, I'm fine, really," you said, trying to sound convincing. "Thank you, but I... I have work to do, I should go,"

"Okay," he said, reluctantly letting go of your waist.

You hurried to find your clothes, putting them on, ignoring the way the fabric stuck to your damp skin. He watched you, his expression thoughtful, his arms folded across his chest.

"Have dinner with me tomorrow?" He asked, his eyes hopeful.

You hesitated. "I'm not sure that's such a good-"

"Please," he said, his voice soft. "Let me take you out. We can have a nice, normal date."

You smiled, your heart fluttering. "Okay,"

He grinned, his eyes sparkling. "Great, I'll pick you up,"

You nodded, mustering your best smile. You couldn't shake the unease, the fear, the dread that was starting to creep in. There was a storm coming, you could feel it, and you weren't sure what to do.

Agnes lit the last candle, the soft glow filling the room. She closed her eyes and whispered an incantation, the air thick with the scent of herbs.

Maeve wandered in and sat down beside you, watching Agnes.

"Is she trying to commune with the ancestors again?" Maeve asked, her voice laced with irritation.

"She is," you replied, keeping your tone neutral.

"It won't work," Maeve said, her voice harsh.

"I had a vision," you whispered, not wanting to distract Agnes.

"Of course you did," Maeve scoffed, her gaze fixed on Agnes. "They're always visions. Never anything helpful."

"Maeve," you warned, not wanting to argue.

You heard the sound of the latch being pulled and the other coven members entered, filling the room. Agnes signaled for the members to gather around the altar.

"Welcome," she said, her voice low and calm. "I have called this meeting to discuss an urgent matter,"

The coven murmured, exchanging glances, a sense of unease filling the room. Agnes looked over at you, gesturing for you to speak.

"We have a problem," you began, your voice shaking.

"What's going on?" A member named Ava asked, her voice concerned.

"I think I know what they want with the herbs," you said, your eyes scanning the group.

"Spit it out, girl," Maeve said, her tone sharp.

"We know they have been escalating this war, first with suppression, then an outright ban on magic. They have executed some of our families, and now they are planning to use the last thing we have against us," you said, taking a breath, steeling yourself.

"Which is?" Another member named Liza asked, her gaze focused on you.

"They're taking complete control of the vervain supply," you replied, "They're growing it, cultivating it, with the aim of controlling it,"

"That would explain why they were in need of a gardener," Beatrice said, her brow furrowed in thought.

"But why would they need complete control?" Liza asked, her voice full of concern.

"To take the last thread of control away from us," Agnes replied, her eyes full of worry. "They will keep it out of our water supply, and be able to compel any person they please,"

"And they will kill any competitors," you said softly, remembering the vision.

"Including you, with your little shop" Maeve said, her lips curled in a cruel smile. "So, you might want to focus on getting us the ash before they cut your pretty head off,"

"Any progress with getting the ash?" Beatrice asked, placing her hand on your shoulder, her gaze sympathetic.

"Not yet," you replied, shaking your head. "It's a delicate process."

Agnes nodded, looking around at the seven young women. "We must prepare, we need to find another way to protect ourselves. Our coven, our legacy is all that matters,"

The witches nodded, their expressions somber.

"Our ancestors are looking out for us, guiding us. We will survive, we will persevere," Agnes said, her voice resolute. "Y/n has seen it,"

"Oh yes, the vision," Maeve said, her eyes filled with sarcasm. "What have you seen?"

"I... I saw death and destruction," you said, your voice shaking.

"You can't be serious," Maeve scoffed, rolling her eyes. "You have had those visions hundreds of times,"

"Maeve," Agnes warned.

"No, this is ridiculous," Maeve shot back, her eyes narrowed. "We need the ash, and y/n isn't getting it. So, we need to find someone else who can."

"I'm doing my best," you said, trying to remain calm. "I have earned Elijah's trust, he will-"

"When and how did you have this vision?" Maeve demanded, cutting you off.

"This morning," you admitted, knowing there was no point in hiding it.

"Please dear, tell us how, perhaps it can add clarity to what is to come," Agnes said, her voice soothing.

You felt yourself blushing, your cheeks growing hot. "I... I was with Elijah, in the greenhouse," you began, avoiding their eyes.

"Your visions are usually caused by stress," Beatrice chimed in, her brow furrowed. "Was he threatening you in some way? Was it an argument?"

"No, no, nothing like that," you assured them, a blush creeping onto your cheeks. "It was... I... It was after,"

"After what?" Liza asked, her interest piqued.

You cleared your throat, shifting uncomfortably. Everyone here knew you were trying to seduce him, that his blindspot was always with his lovers. But admitting that he had touched you, that you had let him, that was different.

"It was after he was intimate with her," Agnes said, her voice soft and understanding.

You could feel the judgment, the disapproval, the tension in the room. Beatrice took your hand and gave it a squeeze, trying to offer you comfort.

"How many times has that happened?" Maeve asked, her tone accusatory.

"Maeve," Beatrice warned, "she's making a great sacrifice for us,"

"Whoring herself out to an abomination," Maeve scoffed, shaking her head.

"That's enough," Agnes said, her tone sharp, cutting the argument short.

"It's fine, I understand her concerns," you said, trying to keep the bitterness from your voice. "I've been with him every day, I'm gaining his trust, it's only a matter of time before I find the ash."

The other members nodded, their faces grim.

"Y/n's way is the safest, they cannot know when we take it, or they will stop us with violence," Agnes said, her expression solemn.

"How long will it take?" Maeve asked, her frustration evident.

"I can't be sure," you admitted, shaking your head.

Maeve let out a frustrated groan and stood up, storming out of the room.

"I'm sorry," you said, looking around at the others.

"Don't apologize, it's a difficult task," Liza said, offering you a reassuring smile. "I could never have the will or strength to lay with a demon, much less one of the old ones."

You swallowed, forcing a smile, trying not to let the comment hurt. It wasn't exactly a burden to be with him, you couldn't deny that it had felt good. That there had been moments where the lines between what was an act and what was real blurred.

"He is a very handsome man," Beatrice added, trying to lighten the mood.

"That he is," Ava agreed, her eyes twinkling. "It's a shame he's so evil."

"Yes," you said, forcing a smile.

"I think that's all for tonight," Agnes said, giving you a kind smile. "As always, prepare, purify, for tomorrow could be the day we possess the ash."

You watched as the coven departed, their expressions somber, their shoulders hunched, each carrying the burden of your coven. You felt a wave of guilt wash over you, wondering if there was something more you could have done. If you should have tried harder, found a quicker solution.

"Are you okay, child?" Agnes asked, placing a hand on your shoulder.

"I'm fine," you assured her, mustering a small smile. "I'll get the ash, I promise,"

Agnes smiled, giving your shoulder a gentle squeeze..

"Do whatever it takes, sweet girl, and stay safe, we need you for the ritual," Agnes said, patting your shoulder before leaving the room.

You looked over at the altar, the candles casting flickering shadows across the walls, the vines, and leaves twisting and twining around each other. It was beautiful, and it filled you with a sense of peace.

You had made a commitment, a promise to your coven, and you were going to do everything you could to keep it. 

It was an odd feeling, to walk around town on the arm of a man that everyone hated and feared. People's heads turned as you passed, and whispers filled the air. You wanted to tell them that you were on their side, that you would fight for them, for their freedom. But you knew it would only cause more trouble.

Days had turned to weeks, turned to months. Each one the same, each night spent in his arms. And yet, every time he held you, kissed you, whispered words of love, it felt like the first time.

You felt like two people.

There was the you that he knew. The one who smiled, and laughed with him. The one who melted into his strong arms. Who listened to his stories, his plans, his dreams. The one who woke up beside him, hair tousled and with eyes full of sleep. The one who loved him, even if you weren't supposed to.

And then, there was the other you. The one who had a duty. The one who had a purpose, a mission, a destiny to wipe out his family. The one who had to lie, deceive, betray him.

Neither of them felt like you. Neither of them felt right. Both felt like an act. Like a betrayal.

The worst part was the way he looked at you. Like you were the only thing that mattered, the only thing he cared about. You were raised to hate him, to expect cruelty, violence, abuse. And yet, here he was, always so gentle, kind and affectionate. It made it hard to believe the things your coven had told you.

He was charming, witty, and intelligent. He made you laugh, he made you feel safe, and cherished. He was nothing like the monster you had expected, nothing like the one the others spoke of. If he wasn't an abomination, you could see yourself falling in love with him.

You couldn't.

You shouldn't.

But you did.

And it would only make what you were about to do, that much harder.

{Part One}{Part Three}{Part Four}

[reallyhatethiswebsite]

act 2 raph/tav dream smut (kinda), jealous devil, mind games(?)🤷‍♂️

Read on AO3

-

Tav bit her cheek. Fought to stand still.

Don’t squirm, he likes it when they squirm.

This was Astarion’s moment. She was supposed to shut up and act supportive while he took the risk, pressing the devil on their tail for information about his terrible scars. She was trying. But that devil kept staring at her, even as he answered questions, posed some of his own, played with words as he was wont to do, saying much without actually saying anything at all. No one else seemed to notice, not even Astarion. It made Tav think she might be imagining it, that she was crazy. The shadows in this terrible godless place made her crazy. The tadpole eating at her brain made her crazy.

Except she could feel those dark, deceptive doe eyes on her, almost like the ardent caress of an angry lover. The little smirk pulling at the left side of Raphael’s pretty mouth also gave him away, but only to someone who paid attention. She was paying attention. Tav didn’t understand, didn’t know what he wanted. All of it just seemed different. He was different. Agitated, maybe, like a moody panther waiting to strike, or…something. If he were in his real form, Tav bet his tail would be thrashing. Whatever it was left Tav feeling strange, on edge – as if her nerves weren’t already pulled taut. It wasn’t fear that gripped her, though. Warm fingers of anticipation danced along her spine instead.

Anticipation for what?

That sensation didn’t ease even after Astarion made his deal and the devil returned to Hell. It curdled thick in her gut, buzzed in the back of her mind. The friends – Karlach in particular – peppered Astarion with demands to know what he was thinking, how stupid it was to make any kind of agreement with a devil. Before long the discussion turned into a spat, the tiefling’s fiery temper and the vampire’s sharp defensive sarcasm clashing. Gale stepped in to diffuse. Tav was too distracted to get involved.

“You alright?” Wyll stepped aside and asked her quietly.

“I’m fine.” Tav shook her head. Smiled reassuringly. “It’s just this place, you know?”

“Mm. I understand. Feels like there’s eyes on you around every corner.”

You got that right.

Tav’s feet were heavy as lead as she climbed Last Light’s staircase. Karlach and Astarion were still squabbling. She left them to argue, exhaustion luring her into a soft bed with musty sheets tucked away in a room on the second floor. Her pack dropped to the ground. She pulled her boots off and collapsed backwards, staring at the ceiling. After a month sleeping on the ground, the ancient mattress felt like heaven. Before she drifted off, she heard Jaheira scolding her companions, threatening to throw them out on their asses if they didn't stop acting like children, but the sounds were far away, as if she were hearing them from a great distance. She thought of Raphael, his smouldering stare, chocolate brown irises flecked with orange peeling away the layers of her soul.

A devil shouldn’t have such pretty eyes…

Tav was in an empty field, a clearing surrounded by impenetrable woods that bled fog and shadow. A swollen yellow moon hung low in the pitch-black canvas of sky. She was cold. Looking down, she saw her feet were bare; realised her entire body was bare. She knew she was dreaming, but she felt alert, aware in a way she normally didn’t experience when she dreamed.

She also knew she wasn’t alone. Something was in that forest, skirting the treeline. Watching her. She was nervous. Intrigued.

“Who’s there?” She called out. Her voice echoed, swallowed up by the darkness. No answer. “Come out! I know you’re there!”

“Little mouse…”

Tav spun around. That raspy, heated whisper came from somewhere behind. She knew that voice.

“Raphael?”

He chuckled. Deep, rich. This time she couldn’t tell from which direction. The sound carried everywhere.

“Show yourself, devil,” Tav snapped. “I’m not afraid of you.”

“Aren’t you?” Orange eyes blinked lazily in the dark. Tav could hear the smile in his words.

“No. This is just a dream. You can’t hurt me.”

“Just a dream? Hmm…”

The devil stepped into the clearing. Into the moonlight. He wore his true skin, shirtless, his broad chest spattered with dark hair. His huge leathery wings flexed. His serpent-like tail swayed to and fro. He dipped his head, peering at Tav through thick lashes, his crown of mighty horns. Hungrily consuming her visage with his gaze. Perhaps she should have been self-conscious, mortified that this awful creature was seeing her naked, but it wasn’t really happening. And truth be told...she didn’t mind. She liked Raphael, found him attractive. She could admit that in her own dreams, this deep little secret. No one else would ever know.

“What do you want?” Tav said. Crossed her arms beneath her breasts. She could be bold here. She wasn’t ashamed of her body. In fact she liked the way his hungry stare made her feel, and it didn’t escape her that her dream was presenting the devil in a near-identical way to the amorous encounter she’d had with Astarion at the tiefling party.

“Such an interesting question…” Raphael hummed. He sauntered closer. Circled her. “What do you want, little mouse? Love? Companionship? Or is it merely…attention you seek? Surely you could have asked for it from a better source. I doubt the little vampling’s cold, sticky hands did much to truly ignite your passions…”

“What would you know about igniting passions? Ah…” Tav’s waspish response melted into a breathy sigh when the devil loomed behind her, putting one huge warm paw on her soft belly. She let him. The heat of his touch was maddening. All her tiny hairs stood on end. The points of his cambion claws rested gently against her skin. Just a reminder.

“Plenty,” he promised, speaking right into her ear. She shuddered. At some point he’d lost his trousers, because she felt his hot, hard cock pressing against her back. Its size was intimidating. Promising. Its shape strange, ribbed. Raphael nuzzled her jaw. His other hand cupped her chin, turned her head the way he wanted. She gasped when his forked tongue licked over the faded bite marks on her neck. “The vampire’s stink is all over you. I smelled it as soon as you entered the inn. Do you enjoy the hurt, when he bites you? Do you enjoy feeling him drain your lifeblood with every pathetic, mewling gulp?”

“Maybe,” Tav breathed, allowing him to cup and knead her breast. Arched her back when he pinched her nipple, made it pebbled and puffy. “Are you jealous, devil?”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Needy little harlot that you are,” Raphael murmured. He caressed the length of her body from her chin to her navel, claws leaving thin, shallow welts spotted with tiny beads of blood in their wake. His long thick fingers teased her patch of pubic hair. “But you know as well as I do, Astarion won’t satisfy you forever. A vampire’s bite isn’t the only way to dance with death so…erotically.” He settled the tip of his own fangs into the hollow of her throat. Fire danced around the fingers he held so near her clit, fat and flush with blood and desperate for touch. The flames licked, not burning – not yet – but tempting.

Tav sucked in a harsh breath, arousal scrunching her toes in the grass. She desired dark, dangerous men. Men who’d unrepentantly hurt her and then put her back together in their own image. Astarion was perhaps one of those things, but Raphael… She felt the satisfied upwards curl of his lips against her skin, as if he’d read her mind. He wedged his thigh between hers, forced her to spread her legs. His hot, rough skin against her flushed cunt felt incredible. She’d left a smear on him, no doubt. His leaking prick squashed between their bodies had him sighing when she writhed into it. She felt its infernal ridges and barbs, whined thinking about them inside her. It would hurt so good.

“Yes…I suppose you’ll have your fun for now, sweet pet. Let him bite you. Revel in your little deaths. And when you tire of him, when you realise he can’t fulfil your every desperate need…” The devil at last slid his fingers between her mons, rubbed and squeezed her clit, pressed at her soaked, ravenous entrance. Tav moaned, rolled her hips, chasing pleasure Raphael only teased her with. He moved his hand away far too soon, held his fingers coated in her slick in front of her face. Showed her the evidence of her twisted fantasy. “That’s when you’ll come to me. But will I be merciful? Will I sate your desires? Or will I have you beg on hands and knees for me? Beg until you can speak no longer, until your arousal renders you near-senseless? Hmm…I wonder…which would you prefer?” Tav wasn’t given chance to answer. Raphael stuffed his fingers into her mouth. The musky, tart taste of her own cunt and smoky infernal magic flooded her senses. Greedily she sucked those fingers clean, feasting on the breathless groan he released.

“Filthy thing,” he hissed, derisive and debauched, pinching her tongue until she squealed. He smeared her lips with her spit, gripped her throat, claws on her pulse point. “The vampling has no idea, does he? Such a shame.”

“Then fuck me yourself, you pompous asshole,” Tav snarled in frustration. Raphael laughed, low and husky.

“Oh, no. Not yet. You’ve things to do. Choices to make. I’m simply…letting you know what else might be on offer, you see. Giving you something to think about.” The devil nudged the bulbous head of his cock along the divots of her spine, marking her with his cum. His tail snaked around her calf, the tip slowly climbing up her leg like it had a mind of its own. “And you will think about it, won’t you?”

“Raphael…”

“Time to wake up, my dear,” he purred, the moment his tail’s tip pushed itself into her cunt.

Tav jerked awake. Blinked deliriously as the world swam into focus. Her clothes clung to her body, drenched with sweat. Her cunt was slick and aching, a throbbing coil of arousal heavy in her womb. She couldn’t tell how long she’d been sleeping. Someone was snoring in a bed nearby. She pressed the heels of her hands into her eyes, clenched her thighs together. Her body burned where the devil had touched her. Stinging pain on her belly made her lift up her damp shirt. She stared in sheer disbelief at five neat lines of red scratches.

What the fuck sort of dream was that?

-x-

Within the private walls of the devil’s study, the lewd sounds of skin rubbing against skin and heavy breathing filled the stifled air. He sat at his desk with his legs spread, teeth bared, tugging on his fat cock and full balls where he’d freed them from his trousers. His fist couldn’t compare to the tight, wet heat of his mouse’s little cunt, of course, but it would have to do for now. He thought of the way she responded, her body so pliant and her moans so sweet. He thought of how she’d wake up slick and confused and desperate. He thought of how, even if she fucked the vampire again, she’d think about him whether she liked it or not. He exhaled long and hard through his nose as he climaxed, face twisted with satisfaction. Spurts of cum shot over his knuckles, dribbled through his fingers, dripped onto the floor. He sat and basked, his twitching dick softening in his messy hand.

Soon, little mouse. Soon.

[peggyao3]

Pt. 21 - Monsterfucking

A/N: Just don't ask any questions and accept it as it is 🙏 I can explain… But I don't want to 😩

TAGS: she/her AFAB FMC, big monster cock, (cosmic) horror, breeding kink, NON-CON

WORD COUNT: 500

There are only two things in this fractal fever dream. The damp forest ground below and the beast above.

She breathes fir and soil, tastes the salt of her tears as screams dissolve into pleas and she no longer recognizes her own voice. Dirt burrows itself beneath her nails and twigs tear open her shirt and chest, but none of it compares to the agony between her thighs where he — it — has stuffed itself with force, making her pay the price for it in blood.

He had looked so deceptively human at first, aside from the total lack of hair and the chalk white pallor. Almost innocent, his lips full and soft and pink, the tilt of his head so alluring.

Uncanny valley is what it's called. The proportions of his face not quite right, the limbs too long, the smile too wide, the irises too black. It had been too late.

She has long ceased to beg him to stop, the sound of her own mother tongue a riddle to her ears. Her throat only cries with each drag of his cock, each rut of his hips that drive her pelvis into the forest ground, pinned down by powerful thighs and the cage of his torso.

Inky drool slips down the nape of her neck in shiny ribbons, the threat of his maws hovering over her head like a crown of teeth.

His shadow weaves across the forest ground and his skull grows horns; no— antlers. A spinal crest. If she turned around to face him, which horror would it be? All at once or none at all? Would his jaws be unhinged and filled with razor sharp teeth? Would she lose her sanity if she looked down his throat, at the color of his soul?

Is he even real? Is she even real?

"Where am I?" She moans and the soil beneath her palms is no longer soil, it's just atoms that dissolve.

He calls her Ki-áñ. He calls her perfect. He says her soul is tasty.

"Don't look up," it drawls and she obeys, face hidden in the crook of her arm as colors wash over her that the eye can't see and space folds itself into eight dimensions. Nothing will hurt her as long as he is there, filling her with purpose.

Ha calls her a poor thing and that he will make her like him.

Her womb splinters with each burst of fractal light. The Visitor purrs into her nape, his teeth wet, his breath hot, his chest smooth and hard against her spine. The end of his tail curls twice around her calf as he comes to rest and the scent of soil rises to her nose.

When her vision returns and she remembers her name, the phantom weight vanishes from her back and she is left with only the tears on her cheeks and the emptiness between her thighs and a fullness beneath her navel, swirling in colors that the eye can't see.

A/N: Hello, it's Peggysuave and Feyd-Rautha's eight-dimensional seed, inspired by Pennywise's deadlights at 4am ✌️

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[theothebogwitch]

My Thoughts on the 2024 Election Results…

How? How could he win again?!

A putrid, vile, decrepit man with no right to wield the power he has been given. A man so lacking in intelligence that he can barely form coherent sentences. A man who would see our democracy fall to ash and ruin instead of conceding to defeat. A man who insighted violence upon our nation's capital so that he might cling to his fleeting power.

How does such a man take the seat at the head of our nation once more, over an impeccably intelligent, well-spoken woman?

How?!

The outcome of this election feels like the punchline to a bad comedy. The looming fact that it is now not a matter of if my rights to live, and love freely and openly will be taken from me, but a matter of when. Rights that have been so vehemently fought for throughout decades of activism and protest, now will be dissolved before I have ever had the chance to exercise them. Where my heart not so blackened by despair, I could almost laugh at the cruel comedy of it all.

It doesn't feel real. It feels like a horrible dream. A terrible reoccurring dream that I cannot wake from. It doesn't make sense. How did he so handily win when he was so widely disliked? How did he win the popular vote? How did he win, when it was almost a universal sentiment that we needed someone younger in the Oval Office? Was I truly in such an air-tight leftist echo chamber that I couldn't fathom this outcome? Was I truly this blind to how far right our country had fallen? I am not one to fall for conspiracy easily, but it feels like there was some sort of outside influence or some underhanded business. How do we have a record-breaking voter turnout and voting lines longer than we have seen in decades... and yet nearly 18 million fewer total votes than in 2020?

Do men truly so vehemently hate women that they would rather sign the death warrant on our democracy than see a woman take the office of President?

Was the economy truly such a grand issue? Was his "concept of a plan" really so convincing? If you think a man, with 34 felony convictions, and at least 6 corporate bankruptcies, is going to fix our economy you are irreparably stupid. Was the false promise of lower gas prices so enticing that you would sign our country over to tyranny? All these economic promises are naught but illusions, and deceptions, lies told by a vile man who will do anything to maintain his chokehold on power.

And spare me the empty, condescending platitudes that masquerade as hope, for they offer no solace. The unbearable anger and despair that has come to bear upon my shoulders feels as if it could crush me under its weight. Each moment that drags on feels like an eternity, and the thought of waking to see the dawn of another day feels like an improbable miracle. Should I find the strength to draw breath as the sun rises tomorrow, it would be a testament to resilience against these shades that haunt this waking nightmare that has become our reality.

[intrepidacious]

about that night (the bugs and the dirt)

summary: You never talk about that night, and Bucky never asks. Even though he can't help but suspect something is wrong.

pairing: bucky barnes x witch!reader

word count: 1.2k

warnings: past character death and vague mentions of blood (yk, spooky stuff); there's no actual dialogue in this and the characters are worse for it 💛 please note that my blog is rated 18+. minors dni. ageless/empty blogs will be blocked without warning.

a/n: it only took me three years but i finally managed to finish a fic in time for halloween 😌🎃 i genuinely don't know how to describe the vibes of this except buffy the vampire slayer season six meets "if lisa frankenstein was a drama" meets hozier's like real people do. have fun 🫶🏼

masterlist | read on ao3

Something’s wrong.

Something’s been wrong for a while, but Bucky can’t quite put his finger on it. It’s a fragile thing, this knowledge, this certainty, lingering at the back of his mind like the dim light of a forgotten lamp, shimmering, seeping through the cracks.

Whenever he asks you, you tell him that everything is fine, and he wants to believe you, desperately. You wouldn’t lie to him, you with your luminous eyes and your soft smile. Deceptions would taste foul on your lips.

But something’s wrong.

It’s all wrong.

He’s always been too smart for his own good, and he’s going to find out, you know he will, but that’s precisely why you can’t let him. He’s going to know how far you’ve fallen, and he’s going to despise you for it.

So he forgets.

Sometimes, when he wakes up, his tongue is heavy with bile and dirt, his eyes crusted shut with something worse than bad dreams. Sometimes, when he listens closely, he can hear the air humming with lost hymns that are not from this earth.

Maybe he should’ve gotten used to that, by now; your walls have always had ears and mouths and eyes, after all. That’s the price for loving a witch, you’d say, back in the days when your smiles came easy. Wherever you are, you’re never alone.

It’s different than he remembers, though, even through the cracked and blurry pictures of his memories, his foggy mind, but he can’t put his finger on why. Darker. Colder. Damp. It’s like something has left.

Doubt follows his every waking hour, even more so when he tries to think of that night.

That night.

Oh, that night.

The taste of blood on your lips when you kissed him, desperately, like you hadn’t seen him in months. The muddy streaks on your arms when he looked at you in the pale moonlight, the scrape of dirt underneath your fingernails. It had been raining. You smelt like pain.

What had you been digging?

He needs to forget about that night and what it actually was you’d dug up, then. You’d told him you’d had to bury an animal that had gotten lost and died in the garden, and it was a half-truth even by the most generous account.

Dark, evil things happened that night, and no matter their intent, you were the sum of them.

You’d sacrificed a lamb to dig up a wolf.

He doesn’t remember your answer now, but it must’ve been enough for him, then. It must have been.

So he doesn’t ask again, no matter how hard uncertainty tugs on his lungs.

On that old, familiar path, he follows you home and feels like a stranger.

The blood itself was the easiest to wash off, and maybe that was the worst part. In the human world, crime rarely disappeared without a trace, but magic always left its mark.

You remember tumbling on your way back, almost tripping over your doorstep, a sudden pulse of energy pulling the breath from your lungs. These were your own four walls, the ones you’d blessed yourself, tended to and looked after for years, and they seemed to recoil.

Bucky caught your arm without even looking, catching you like he always had, and you crossed the threshold together. You looked at him, then, for the first time since the graveyard. You could feel his pulse under your grip, his heartbeat strong and loud enough to be mistaken for your own, but his gaze so uncertain, like he wasn’t sure he actually belonged here.

With you.

You made up your mind right then and there. He could never know.

You stir your tea as you always do, and you’ve set out his cup on the kitchen table. Alpine paws at it before he can pick it up, a fierce growl accompanying the sound of smashing porcelain.

She’s been angry with both of you, and he doesn’t know why. She keeps hissing at him, and she refuses to sit on your lap when you study your books next to the fireplace like she always used to. Like she’s punishing you in whatever little way she can for a crime he doesn’t understand.

You sigh, and you repair the cup with a flick of your wrist, and then you don’t reach out to pet that spot behind Alpine’s ears.

It’s little things like that.

And it’s your tired eyes.

Of course, no one else can know either; it’s not a risk you’re willing to take.

If Bucky notices the phone’s been unplugged all this time, he’s never said a word. He’s never been much for talking, anyway, but he does it even less so these days. You’ve both turned quiet around each other, but the only thing that matters is that you’re both still here.

Even now, you can feel the dark powers humming through your veins, just like you could that night. You hear the whispers calling out your name and see the shadows at the very periphery of your vision. They follow you into your dreams until you give up on them, slipping out of the warm embrace of your bed to hunch over the tome again, again, just a little more.

Perhaps you should worry about repercussions, but what for? After all, everything you did that night, you did out of love.

Everything you’ve done, you’ve done for him.

Sometimes, he doesn’t notice them for a very long time, and then it hits him all over again just how exhausted you look. When he wakes up in the middle of the night, your side of the bed is empty and the roof of his mouth tastes like ash and decay. In those moments, he thinks he might still be dreaming; his bones are heavy and cold and unyielding, and he lies there like something forgotten, and all of his thoughts revolve around you.

He’s so worried about you.

He wants to ask if it’s something he’s done. He wants to know if he can make it better, make you smile again like you always did at the sight of him, every time. But he’s afraid of the answer.

You’ve not been yourself and you know it, but at this point, you feel unable to stop it. It’s too late, anyway. The dead already walk to earth, and you’re the one to blame. You’re the one to thank.

Sometimes, the thought does hit you that there’s something a little wrong with you these days. But then he looks at you and he smiles, and you’re young and foolish and in love all over again, that weight of all those weeks of screaming and crying lifted with every glance, every touch, every kiss.

This, the uncertainty, is the worst part of it. It becomes his closest companion, and it only lifts slightly when you return to him, if only for a moment. When you do smile, when you put your hands around his neck and kiss him and he can feel real again, feel like himself again.

He barely notices that you will only look him in the eye when it’s dark, when he can lose himself in your touch, foreheads pressed together, breaths heavy and mingling, the only real creatures in the world. The sweetest thing he’s ever tasted.

Maybe you are wrong. Maybe you are wicked and evil and rotten to the core, and maybe there’ll be hell to pay for it yet.

But you’re not sorry.

hearing hozier perform "like real people do" as a duet with victoria canal changed lives y'all

thank you for reading!! if you want to see more of my writing, check out my masterlist or follow @intrepidacious-fics for update notifications!! also, comments are trick or treats that last all year long. just saying 💛

oh, before we leave, here's an extra shoutout to @brandycranby for telling me this was fun and the perfect length. i accidentally made it longer again. love u 🫶🏼

[mysteria157]

Chapter Three

Pairing: Black Fem!Reader x Hitman Toji Fushiguro

CW: Profanity, Slight Angst (mentions of death), Fluff, Comfort

Word Count: ~5k

Summary:

Suffering from haunting dreams and a raging cold, you find solce in Toji's challenging yet comforting presence.

Authors Notes: Hello! Thank you all for waiting so patiently! It took me weeks to finally get out of my perfectionist mindset and just...write so everything flows together. This chapter is shorter than my usual, but to me little moments help with character development. And this is going to be a very, very slow burn lol.

As always, reblogs, comments, and likes are always appreciated! Enjoy and thank you for your support!

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Dividers: @royallaesthetics @eloquentmoon | Header: created by myself (fanart from Pinterest)

©mysteria157, all rights reserved. DO NOT copy, plagiarize, reupload, modify, or translate (without permission) my work to other accounts and platforms.

***You***

The cold air is deceptive; it nips at your skin, raising goosebumps despite the warm inviting appearance of your surroundings. Tall trees—oaks, hickories, and basswoods—clutter densely, forming a barrier that shields the land from the outside world and cages bittersweet memories of the past. You’ve followed your father through these woods before, navigating rocky hills and leaping over thick, ingrown branches to reach another unmarked spot for exploring.

Deep purple hues of the twilight sky cast elongated, eerie shadows over the forest, and they fold over the tall grass like dark, unnatural fingers. This definitely isn’t real. Everything around you right now brings painful memories—but they’re are not as sharp as what you feel in reality.

In reality, the ache is persistent, pulsing weakly in your veins, flaring up with every fleeting memory of your father—his infectious laugh, his hands putting you on his shoulders as you walked to football games, or the early mornings spent huddled together, his hand guiding your binoculars to focus on a bird in the distance.

This is definitely a dream.

You know it also from the feel of the grassy meadow beneath your toes, the blades soft and ticklish against your ankles, the usual worry of ticks far from your mind. Vivid wildflowers—yellows, pinks, and blues—sway in a nonexistent breeze. The dirt path that once led to your father’s house has vanished, taken over by the soil and grass, erasing years of footprints.

The house he dreamt of building, a two-story structure crafted by his own hands, now stands as nothing more than a decaying skeleton. There is no roof, only stretches of drywall reaching towards the twilight sky, as if trying to reach the heavens and falling short.

As you walk further across the foundation, the environment shifts around you, the air folding in on itself and twisting like the patterns in a kaleidoscope. Your fingers trail along the phantom walls that spring up, and your feet glide over the conjured glossy finish of hardwood floors. This empty space is a blueprint nestled deep in your memory: bedrooms that will give privacy, a living room that will host family gatherings, a fireplace that is now roaring in orange and yellows.

“There you are,” a familiar voice calls to you, sending a jolt through your heart that tightens your chest as if you’re about to cough. As you turn the corner, reality morphs once again, unfolding into a meticulously designed kitchen with forest green cabinets adorned with brass knobs, a deep porcelain sink and shiny stainless-steel appliances. The surreal surroundings are dizzying, blurring and swirling in your vision. But the figure you know—his broad back turned to you, shoulders stretching and pulling as he wipes something in front of him—that grounds you, preventing you from drifting away.

“It finally came in, take a look.”

He radiates an intense warmth as you stand beside him. Even with your arms barely touching, the heat feels suffocating, instantly causing you to break into a sweat. Just being next to him makes your throat constrict, choked and searing, it’s nearly impossible to speak. But with each stroke of his hand on the new granite counter top, sweeping a fiberglass cloth, his love and comfort are palpable in the stiffing heat, settling on your skin to relax you.

“Looks good huh?” He’s proud, and even though you don’t have the strength to look up at his face, you know he’s beaming. “Once it all comes together, it’s gonna look beautiful.”

His words stir a deep-seated guilt within you, so fierce it makes you want to scratch at your own skin, as if to physically scrape away the emotional turmoil the festers beneath the layer of your dermis. You press your toes into the hardwood, cross your arms and dig your fingernails into your arms. It’s hotter now—god you’re burning up. Your body prickles with beads of moisture as you watch him tirelessly wipe over an already clean surface.

It’s incessant, and with each swipe the guilt rises further, urging you to flee from a conversation that will never happen. You don’t really know about an afterlife but if there is one, does he know what happened? Is he rooted in the present, watching you occasionally to see what you’ve failed to do? Is he disappointed in you?

Maybe if you focus on his steady motions, close your eyes, and just breathe, you might find yourself back in your room when you open them again. After all, none of this is real—it will never be real. This kitchen, these rooms, the wooden floorboards, and the beautiful roaring fireplace. The remnants of all of this are written on a blueprint somewhere, collecting dust for the last two decades.

He calls out to you again, his voice oddly distant though he stands right beside you. He sounds weary, as if he’s struggling to breathe, and when you glance at his hand moving across the counter, it’s no longer vibrant and almond-brown but ashen, marked by blown-out veins. Lifting your eyes, you meet not the father you remember, but his final, frail image—his sunken skin, his life slipping away too soon, anchored to the world only by the fragile thread of a nasal cannula.

“You okay, honey?” he croaks, concern etched in every syllable.

You open your mouth to speak, but fear grips your entire being, squeezing you like you’re a piece of fruit to be juiced. The terror is paralyzing, and you find yourself unable to face him any longer without crumbling into tears. A deep, ragged breath cuts through the silence, rasping painfully in your throat as you stammer, “I’m sorry, I couldn’t—“

Your eyes snap open, sticky and heavy with exhaustion, wincing against the harsh glare of sunlight that peaks through your maroon curtains. The embers of your dream fade into nothingness and unforgiving reality slides into place with ease. The heat of the dream is replaced by a chilling dampness; the sheets cling to your sweaty skin, and the fiery soreness in your throat reminds you of your still raging cold. When you swallow, it feels like sandpaper across raw flesh.

It’s been almost a year since you’ve dreamt of your father. It’s not that you don’t like to dream about him; actually, you cherish every memory, even the painful ones. But dreaming of him in the house—his house that has remained untouched since his death—it consumes you with regret for the role you’ve been unable to fulfill. You don’t have the time. You don’t have the money. All things that are out of your control but still hold you by the throat.

It’s too much for your mother, and you don’t blame her. The love she has for your father never really left. It lingered in her second marriage and came back full force in her divorce. So she stays away from all things related to him when she can.

Your eyes wander to the corner of your office desk where the old property deed lies, rolled up and bound by a simple rubber band. The edges are brown and dusty, much like the blueprints in your dream.

Why do you even keep it there?

Maybe it’s a reminder of him, just something physical you can glance at every day even if it hurts. Maybe it’s there to spur you to make that thousandth trip to city hall—the one that always ends in tears. Maybe, with these next few days off, you can try again. You’ll be stronger this time, more aggressive with the bald-headed piece of shit that always gives you trouble.

Or maybe not.

The flare of your throat is harsh enough to push away any other thoughts. There’s a frustration that always comes with getting sick, it makes simple things extreme when there is no need for it. Your body is too hot and also too cold, your throat burns with every swallow no matter how many throat drops you take, your lungs spasm with the tiniest breath to cough, your nose is so congested that it makes you regret taking breathing for granted. It’s overstimulating as hell.

You wince against the harsh sun again, turning your head further into your pillow before your eyes fall on your nightstand. There’s a tall glass of water and two pills. You don’t remember setting them there, but you sit up to throw them back anyway and down the water quickly. The coolness soothes your throat and with each swallow, the haze of last night lifts.

You know Toji brought you home because your car is out of commission and he refused to let you take the bus. He helped you out last night—literally carrying you up to your apartment because you were so achy and exhausted you could hardly stand. You remember him leaning casually against the brick wall of your complex, that insufferably charming smirk playing on his lips as he watched you go through every stage of defiance for help.

“I’m not getting any younger, princess.”

That name. You hate that name.

It was a taunt that made you eventually give up, too damn tired to snap at him. You gave in to the warmth of strong muscles and the scent of detergent, cologne, and something that’s just Toji. You remember the lack of strain in his neck, the ease in which he breathed as he took step after step like you weighed nothing, and the analytical gaze of jade irises beaming in the night as he took in his surroundings. It almost felt like he was assessing the area, checking every corner when he hit another flight of steps to make sure no one was lurking nearby.

As you think back, your hands automatically press against your cheeks, warmed by the flush of memory as your blood pumps faster in your veins from the rising shock. Toji had drawn you an Epsom salt bath to soak your muscles, rolling his eyes as you feverishly barked at him for privacy to undress. That gruff attentiveness continued as he watched you like a hawk as you slurped down the bowl of canned soup he warmed, and then gently nudging you to bed with a press to the small of your back. Even his firm grip on your arm as he wielded a syringe of cough syrup—which you tried to refuse—is clear in your mind.

“You’re burning up, stop fucking fighting me! What kind of doctor won’t take medicine?”

“This doctor. I would rather lick the floor than taste cough syrup. It’s just a cold. Go away,” you remember protesting, delirious with a stubbornness that has only gotten worse with age.

He had pressed the tip of the syringe to the side of your mouth, eyes narrowed and annoyed. “Open your mouth and—OW, why are you biting people! Girl, what the hell?!”

“Fuck,” you groan now, your hands digging into your eye sockets as the memory plays like a broken record behind your eyelids. You bit him like a fucking maniac. Who does that?! You remember giving in because you felt bad but still…

As a kid, you were the same—so against the taste of medicine that your mother had to pin you down.

But now? At the ripe age of too damn grown? You’re mortified.

Your hands slide down your face as you sigh in the silence, which feels heavier than before. Did he leave last night? You can’t remember anything beyond smacking your lips to get rid of the cherry taste of cough medicine and rolling over to pass out.

Your body isn’t as achy as last night as you climb out of bed. You slip into dry clothes and throw off your bonnet, ruffling the curls loose before you snatch up your phone and leave the room in search of him. The air in your apartment, usually so familiar, now carries a subtle disturbance—a reminder of his increasing presence. Only the distant chirps of cardinals outside punctuate the silence. As you enter the living room, you notice Toji’s black jacket casually draped over a kitchen stool and his car keys abandoned on the counter.

Your fuzzy socks muffle your steps as you approach the counter, where a covered glass bowl sits alongside a small note. You hate the lurch of your heart skipping as you snatch it up, your movements fueled by a mix of dread and anticipation.

Make sure you eat it all.

You can practically hear his gruff voice through the words, rough and serious, a subtle layer of care that’s unique to him. The thought makes you snort softly, relief washing over you with the distant thought that…he didn’t leave. But that relief is a push and pull, it’s frustrating to you because you’re unsure of what you want, even though you want more and moreof it. More of him.

As you pop open the lid of the container, the steam hitting your nose, your phone rings, your eyes rolling on reflex as you look at the caller ID. It’s a work day for your cousin, you can tell by the sleek reading glasses she only wears to comb over legal documents. Her shiny kinky hair is pulled up into a neat bun with not a strand out of place, edges laid to perfection, dark lip liner with a clear gloss on full lips, and she looks professional and uniquely Rene. Dark brown eyes narrow at you, the corners pointed in a cat’s eye with fresh black eyeliner, her expression tightening. Your mind automatically conjures the phrase you know she’s about to say.

“What do I have to do—”

“—to make sure you’re not dead,” she finishes in real time, her voice a blend of concern and familiar exasperation. “I was texting you all night.”

This is a well-worn interaction between you both; you work for days on end and disappear from the world, Rene reels you back in with stern care that rivals your own mother.

Your fingernail idly traces Toji’s handwriting from his note. “It was a rough night. My car wouldn’t start, I had to catch the bus and it made me late, and then work was just a nightmare. I’m sick, everything hurts, and Toji had to pick me up—”

“Why don’t we back up a little bit,” she interjects, elegant eyebrows arching up in wicked surprise, your well-being entirely forgotten because your cousin is a nosy bitch. “Toji was there? Where is he?” You shoot her a glare, irritation flaring because you refuse to give in to her curiosity. She holds up her hands in defense, her full lips curving into a smile. “Damn, a bestie can’t ask a question these days? That’s tough.”

Your gaze holds firm, challenging her. She meets it in a well-known game you both play, her eyes widening comically and it’s enough to break you both, laughter filling the kitchen.

“This is why I don’t tell you things,” you lie, coughing into your elbow. “We are just taking it slow. Nothing crazy. I didn’t need his help anyway. I could have taken the bus and taken care of myself. It’s just a cold.”

She laughs again at your bullshit and you sigh in defeat. There’s no point in trying to sugarcoat things with her. Nothing crazy, you say even though can’t even get your thoughts together when it comes to him. You could easily hang up the phone, but annoying or not, you haven’t talked to Rene in days. It’s nice to hear her voice again. Your mother is overseas often for work so calls aren’t as frequent. As for the rest of your family? You’re just…not as close to them.

Rene’s still running cackling keeps your mind from wandering again.

“Alright, it’s not funny anymore,” you snap as you grab a spoon from a kitchen drawer, turning back to Toji’s leftover food with a frown.

“I’m sorry! Really! But come on, it’s just classic you—the baddest bitch I know, but here you are, refusing any chance of help even though you want it so bad. Hard-headed as hell,” she chuckles, her voice warming with the years of friendship between you.

You pause, spoon in hand over the steaming bowl of soup, struck by the truth in her words. Stubbornness is your armor and you rarely let it slip, only few know what’s behind it. Even though she teases, it hurts. It hurts because it carries history—reminders of every instance you’ve pushed help away. It wraps around those jabs from your family, from the men you’ve been with.

Mean because you demand respect so you can weed out those who aren’t worth your time.

Defensive because you’ve been hurt too often.

Uncompromising and fierce, and that’s anyone who tries to get too close—never stays.

You clench your teeth together. “Rene, I’m not—” you start to protest, but the latch of the front door opening makes you raise the spoon in alarm.

It's Toji.

He walks into your home as if he owns the place, his presence so commanding it seems to fill every corner, snuffing the lights and sucking the air from the room. His gaze sweeps through the space, and when his emerald eyes finally settle on you, you feel the weight of his attention.

His shirt is stained with grease, and raven locks, messy from the July humidity, sticks to his forehead and sides of his neck.

“You won’t get far if you’re trying to stab me with that,” he teases, nodding towards the spoon in your hand. Though his tone is light, the underlying seriousness suggests he’s not entirely joking. He’s strong enough to disarm you and you wouldn’t mind a big man like him trying to—

The spoon clatters against the granite counter top as you slap it down and force your mind to shut the hell up.

He takes only two steps before he’s standing in front of you, analytical eyes scanning you in seconds—a look so intense that it feels like he’s trying to memorize you and understand hidden layers you’d rather keep concealed. Alarmingly thorough and you’re still trying to process him being this close, his proximity bringing an electricity you feel even before his lips press a soft, almost possessive kiss on your cheek, like he’s been waiting—itching for contact.

Rene’s startled cough cracks through the phone, mirroring your own internal shock. Toji is making your fever worse because it’s hot as hell now, the hairs rising on your neck as you gape like a fish.

“W-what are you doing…” you begin to ask, but the words die in your dry mouth when he pulls back. His eyes linger close to yours—too close and sliding across your nose, your cheeks, your lips. He still smells like cologne, but now there’s sweat and a muskiness of exertion and outdoors that makes your head swim with dread and desire.

“Where’s your toolbox?” he asks, putting a leash on your thoughts before they run away from you.

You clear your throat and step back, trying to reclaim your space, to fortify your defenses, do anything so you don’t fall apart. “Um, coat closet down the hall. Top shelf.” Your tone is steadier than you feel, pointing mechanically to your hallway.

You look down at your phone when he walks away, exhaling a breath you don’t realize you’re holding. Rene’s watching you with an amused, knowing look, eyebrows rising and falling suggestively. You can’t stand her because you want to laugh and groan at the same time.

“Girl,” Rene chimes, voice dripping with insinuation and not low enough because she doesn’t care who hears her. “I’m sure if you take him for a ride again, you’ll feel a little better.”

“When she’s not sick,” Toji calls from the hallway, your eyes widening at the implication of him listening in. “That kind of ride takes a little work.”

You gawk at the empty space of your hallway. Rene hollers and you hope to god she gets written up for being too loud.

“I know that’s right, Toj—”

You hang up and slam the phone down with more force than necessary.

Toji returns with the toolbox, smirking and completely unphased by his remark and just how unsettled you look by it. He motions with his head to the bowl of soup in front of you.

“Eat.”

It’s a command, gentle but firm, and you bristle not just at the directive, but at your own conflicting impulses—to bare your teeth and snap at his attempt of care or to melt under his attention.

Toji doesn’t wait for an answer, just studies you a moment longer, seemingly satisfied with what he sees, and disappears out the front door. The quiet buzz of the cardinals outside fills the silence he leaves behind.

You’re left standing there, a hand squeezing your phone on the counter like a vice, your mind struggling to remain upright in a storm of emotions that he stirs up within you. Unsettling and soothing, your chest fluttering like butterflies wings against your rib cage. Maybe it’s just a heart palpitation, this intensity—this feeling. Nanami can do an EKG when you return to work in a few days. And he better be there, because he’s the very reason why you had to pick up so many shifts in the first place.

Rene’s giggles still echo in your ears as you exhale a shaky breath and grip the metal spoon in your hand again.

***

“What are you doing?”

Your question cuts through the ambient city hum and the rustle of trees surrounding the parking lot of your complex. Toji is hunched over the hood of your car, hands deep in it’s guts, his eyebrows furrowed in concentration.

The summer sun beats down on you both, yet you’re wrapped in Toji’s jacket to cover your exposed legs. It was the first thing you grabbed when you rushed out of the apartment but it’s too big, the hem brushes against your knees, the sleeves dangling past your hands. You push them up again, feeling simultaneously protected and vulnerable under his gaze as he turns to face you. The jacket feels like a shield, but also a reminder of how much space he’s beginning to occupy in your life.

“Your starter is bad,” he grunts, showing you a car part smeared with oil. It looks expensive, way more than an oil change, and panic flares in your belly briefly as the numbers fluctuate in your mind. If it’s too much, it’ll probably be weeks before you can take your car to the shop.

You’re a doctor, but doctors don’t start making good money for…awhile.

“How much do you think it will be for a new one?” You sigh, mentally calculating the number of zeros the mechanic is going to throw at you. At least Toji saved you some money for a diagnostics test.

“I already ordered the part.”

The admission hits you like a truck.

You gape at him, fumbling and overwhelmed. “You didn’t—I could have done all of this myself. I don’t need your help, Toji.”

The words taste bitter as they drip from your tongue, a defensive reflex from years of self-reliance. Of course you’re grateful, but the frustration that he’s seen a need you hadn’t voiced, that he’s filled it without asking, that’s what stirs the deep discomfort. It’s not just the help—it’s the intimacy of it, the presumption that he can anticipate your needs.

The weight of his jacket on your shoulders no longer feels comforting.

His reaction is immediate, a flash of annoyance flickering over his features, the scar on the side of his lips twisting as he frowns and snatches a rag from the hood of the car.

“So, what, you were going to trust some corner-shop mechanic to rip you off?”

His accusation is justified, and almost instantly, that phrase parrots in your mind.

Let me be nice to you. Let me be nice to you.

“Yep, that was the plan,” you retort, your voice lacks conviction, weak and drowned out by the steady thump of your own heart as he walks closer. He drags the rag between his knuckles, collecting the dirt in the seams.

“You want me to let some old fuck tear your shit up? Even though I know what I’m doing? Not happening.”

His assurance should be overwhelming, but you find yourself irresistibly drawn to it. He moves closer, and instinctively, your muscles tense, your toes curling inside your fuzzy socks and blue Crocs. With every inch that disappears between you both, your mind fires with mixed signals: go back to the safety of your apartment or surrender to the magnetic pull of him. God, you’ve only been awake for two hours, but the emotional whiplash just might knock you back out.

“You told me to earn you, so I am. You need to let me.”

His directness, unyielding and raw, hits you harder than you expect. It’s not just his physical presence that’s imposing—it’s the sheer force of his will, loud and insisting that you realize he’s not leaving anytime soon.

Your reactions and reflexes are not completely intentional, but it isn’t easy to just change who you are. The defenses around you are lined with hard-learned lessons. Your armor and shields to keep yourself safe are all you know. Letting go is like disarming a trap designed to protect you—it requires careful, gentle hands. And you’re terrified that Toji’s large, scarred hands will be too rough.

But you recognize that you can’t tell him to try, and you not do the same. That’s not fair to him, or to whatever this dance is that you are both trying to learn the steps to.

As Toji wipes the sweat from his brow, he unwittingly smears a streak of grease across his forehead, drawing your attention. “If you really feel like you need to repay me, then I don’t know—spend a day with me.”

You lift an eyebrow, surprised at his suggestion. “A whole day?”

Toji nods. “When the part comes in and you’re feeling better. No long ass shifts. No PI cases. Just you and me.” He offers a half-smile, white teeth glimmering in the sun and the look is as disarming as it is dangerous.

Your interactions with Toji, even limited, have always been charged with an intensity you’ve avoided and craved. The meaning behind the car repairs and taking care of you, it’s not just surface level. There’s more to it…he’s trying. So now it’s your turn.

You sniff through a congested nose and clear your rough throat, grabbing the rag from his hands and standing on your toes to reach his forehead. You don’t get very far, but Toji leans down so his forehead is closer to you, holding back a snicker at the height difference. You wipe the grease away, locked on the task because you can feel his stare.

“An entire day with you sounds…ominous.”

“I’ll make sure to feed you,” Toji responds, a comforting rumble that unexpectedly makes you laugh. A small smile blooms across your face and the tension in your stomach eases. You feel a little better, still on a tightrope but you can see the other side. With the grease now gone, you sink back to your slightly achy heels, unable to look away now that you’re both eye-level. “I’ll throw in a thirty-minute lunch break.”

“Make it an hour. Don’t try to short change me,” you challenge, playfully. His eyes, emerald and sharp, scan your face with open curiosity, and you wonder if you’ll ever get used to his intense focus. You press the rag into his white shirt, deliberately looking to the dirt on the fabric to ground your thoughts. “How’s your finger?”

His laughter vibrates through him, a melodic bark that makes you bite the inside of your cheek, and you watch his abdomen tighten under his shirt from the motion. Toji’s fingers brush against yours as he takes the rag from your hand, his touch making your heart jump. The scars on his knuckles catch the sunlight, and you’re struck again with the curiosity of how they got there.

“I’ve had worse.”

You can’t tell if that’s a joke…or if he’s serious, but you don’t have time to ask because his lips press against your cheek, stealing another unasked kiss that leaves you momentarily off-balance. You swat at him in reflex as if he’s a fly in your ears, swallowing a stuttering response that you’re glad doesn’t filter into the air.

“You’re burning up. Go lay down,” he murmurs, almost gentle now. “I’ll finish up here and head out.”

You can stay.

It’s what you want to say. The words are on the tip of your tongue, pressing against the back of your teeth, but you curl the muscle back and purse your lips, offering a tight nod before you turn and walk away.

Your Crocs squeak against the concrete, your pace quickening because you can feel Toji’s eyes on your back, watching you. You’re burning up from the summer air and the jacket that’s around you. But there’s an underlying, electrifying warmth that pulls a small smile on your face, your hands rising to your cheeks to quell the heat flush that you know is not from your fever.

Thanks for reading!

[idkyetxoxo]

Daeron Targaryen || Masterlist

This masterlist is solely focused on Daeron Targaryen, all written as xreader pieces without any specific physical descriptions.

All works have warnings stated before but please read at your own risk!

— ALL ONESHOTS BELOW ->

Fan favourites: 🌟 My favourites: 💓

Doomed 🌟 💓

• Violence, injury

Star-crossed lovers, the only daughter of Rhaenyra and the youngest son of Alicent, destined to be together but doomed from the start, bound by love and fate to an end neither of them could escape.

Flawless

• None

A commoner and a prince defy societal norms but as their secret affair is exposed, they grapple with intense emotions and the fear of their love being destroyed. They must choose whether to defy the world for their love or succumb to the pressures tearing them apart.

Ashes of Betrayal 🌟

• Violence

Secrets unravel and tensions ignite between brothers, Daeron's forbidden love for her puts them all at risk. With loyalty and betrayal hanging in the balance, her fate is sealed by forces beyond her control, leading to a devastating clash between love and cruelty.

The Last Flames 🌟

• None

In the ruins of their shattered families, the last Targaryen and Velaryon are forced into a marriage. As they navigate grief and guilt, they discover unexpected tenderness and feelings as they grapple with the ghosts of their pasts and the burgeoning love between them.

Pleasure 💓

• Sexual content (oral f!receiving)

What begins with years of contempt and resentment ignites into a surprising, passionate confrontation that blurs the lines between hatred and desire, challenging their darkest secrets and unspoken yearnings.

Cruel Games

• Violence (slap)

Trapped in a dangerous web of deception, she once admired Daeron, but now faces the brutal truth—she was never more than a pawn in his heartless play. As betrayal cuts deep, she must confront the cold emptiness left behind and the shattered pieces of her heart.

Secrets

• None

A Targaryen prince and a Velaryon princess grapple with a forbidden love that defies their families. When their secret is discovered, tensions soar, forcing them to confront the risks of their passion and the cost of loyalty. Will love prevail, or will family ties shatter their dreams?

Remember Me

• Injury

Caught in an arranged marriage, she finds her loyalties tested when a figure from her past returns. After a tragic confrontation erases her memories of him, she must navigate the echoes of lost love and uncover the truth of her heart amidst the shadows of her past.

For works involving other characters from House of the Dragon, please check out my House of the Dragon General Masterlist.

[mistydeyes]

𝓶𝓸𝓭𝓮𝓻𝓷 𝔀𝓪𝓻𝓯𝓪𝓻𝓮 𝓶𝓪𝓼𝓽𝓮𝓻𝓵𝓲𝓼𝓽

𝓲𝓶𝓪𝓰𝓲𝓷𝓮𝓼

𝓂𝓌 𝒾𝒾 𝑔𝑒𝓃𝑒𝓇𝒶𝓁

💌 if you want to peek at all of my writings

S E R I E S

"your prescription is ready for pick-up" - 141 x pharmacist!reader❤️

all of my works and our pharmacist reader

a panacea - 141 meets the cure to all their ailments

141 medical file - what the pharmacist sees when looking at 141′s files, accompanies “a panacea”

medically included dream - after a heroic action lands you on an operating table, your morphine drip has you experiencing some interesting dreams

sick day visit - you prided yourself on never getting sick but the day has finally come. as you’re resting in your quarters, a certain group pays you a visit :)

there is no cure for jealousy - what happens when a new recruit gets a little to flirtatious with the 141's favorite pharmacist?

first line treatments - before the sick days, counseling, and lunches together, you were only known as the newest pharmacist on base

pharmacist hcs!

keep your weapons hot and bodies hotter (18+) - stripper!141 x fem!reader (codename: Phoenix)❤️

hunk-o-mania 141 edition - feast your eyes on Delilah's Den's newest male dancers

playboy bunny phoenix edition - an unforeseen guest complicates the mission, now you have to get ready to act as the distraction on stage

the joys of civilian life - 141 x civilian!fem!reader

opposite occupations❤️ - while on leave, the boys each meet a civilian that makes their time deployed and defending their country worth it

take a walk in my shoes - the boys are home again! unfortunately, their significant other has to work but that doesn't mean they won't spend every moment in their presence

extra! the almost military wives gc - what the gf's talk about when the 141 isn't home

"the glance is often deceptive, not the nose" - 141, los vaqueros, könig, graves, laswell x reader what fragrances i think the boys would like on a significant other

part i (141 + alejandro)

part ii (rudy, könig, graves, laswell)

dancing with the enemy - 141 x undercover!fem!reader 141 is playing with fire when you are revealed to be an undercover enemy that's out to get them

family moments - 141 x fem!reader

little moments and little voices - precious moments you spend in your home with your husband and children :)

oh, darling, don’t you ever grow up - your husband leaves this world too early and now you have to pick up the pieces with your children

secrets and pointed fingers (requested!)❤️ - simon "ghost" riley

behind locked doors - when the 141 thinks you're the mole, they make sure to extract the information in whatever way possible

hollow apologies and avoiding glances - when you return back to base, everything is far from normal

half empty glasses and unchanging perspectives - you try to run away from the trauma at the pub but with a glass in hand, simon finds you

suppressed feelings of hatred - despite the 141 being gone from your sight, you still cannot cope with the past

miss americana - 141 x reader small relationship moments between the 141 and their american significant other

kyle "gaz" garrick edition

simon “ghost” riley edition

O N E - S H O T S

eyes for the stars - 141 x reader "hey siri, what do i do if my partner has a crush on a celebrity?" uh oh, see what happens when the boys get a little jealous of your celeb crush!

odd hobbies - 141 x reader everyone has their own hobbies, yours are just unique to 141’s perspective

have a drink - platonic! 141, los vaqueros x reader (codename: Brandy) everyone needs a break sometimes and you decide to treat the 141 and los vaqueros with your bartending skills

butterfly effect❤️ - 141 x fem!reader they say "a butterfly flaps its wings in the amazonian jungle, and subsequently a storm ravages half of europe." what once was a silly quote now has implications as one action leads to your death.

opposite of a meet cute❤️ - 141 x civilian!reader most people have a cute story as to how they met their significant other but yours is a little more eccentric

cold coffee and sloppy notes❤️ - 141 x student!reader the 141 helps you through the nuances of student life

V I S U A L S + R A N D O M

matching tattoos - 141 x reader what matching tattoos would you and the 141 get together?

high thoughts - you enjoy your time in amsterdam a little too well and make sure everyone knows it

bachelorettes parties and weddings - 141 x fem!fiancee!reader what would your bachelorette party and wedding be with the 141?

random things in pockets and bags❤️ SERIES - what does the 141 carry on them when they’re on leave?

pt i- kyle “gaz” garrick

pt ii - simon "ghost" riley

pt iii - johnny "soap" mactavish

pt iv - john price

P R O J E C T S

you are a work of fiction - 141 x reader what literary heroes would the 141 be

in a past life - it’s said everyone reincarnates after death, what life did the mw2 characters have before their current one?

E X P L A I N S my series of explaining the various timeline's of the games and characters

simon "ghost" riley's backstory

which modern warfare game should i play first?

𝓈𝒾𝓂𝑜𝓃 "𝑔𝒽𝑜𝓈𝓉" 𝓇𝒾𝓁𝑒𝓎

"your prescription is ready for pick-up" - ghost x pharmacist!reader

fake hypochondriac (sequel to “a panacea”) - ghost goes to extreme lengths to see his favorite pharmacist

tuberose and rose tinted glasses - ghost meets a perfumer in grasse, france - the capital of fragrance

simon riley’s backstory (a request) - simon’s tragic backstory with his family

r e q u e s t s 

a scarlet red dress - ghost x oc! ghost and riot share an intimate moment, all started when riot decides to dig out a red dress from her closet

ghost’s doppelgänger❤️ - 141, los vaqueros x fem!reader how does the 141 and los vaqueros react to you joining the team? their reactions are even better when you share an uncanny resemblance with ghost

an invasion of the scots❤️ - ghost x fem!reader worlds collide when you visit the base and you realize your dating the teammate of your cousin, johnny mactavish

tamer of dogs and ghost- ghost x fem!reader ghost has fallen in love with you, the army’s resident veterinarian and dog handler

a fiery love story - ghost x gn!reader simon thinks he has everything under control but it's actually you and your secret ability to control fire 

brazilian heat - ghost x fem!reader when the 141 finds themselves in brazil, you make a lasting impression on simon in a bar

a child's eye of the tiger - ghost x fem!reader simon comes home just in time to see your daughter kick ass at a jiu jitsu competition!

𝒿𝑜𝒽𝓃 𝓅𝓇𝒾𝒸𝑒

"your prescription is ready for pick-up" - price x pharmacist!reader

pain-killer fueled thoughts (sequel to “a panacea”) - price landed himself in the medic tent and his pain killers are making him tell the pharmacist his feelings.

𝒿𝑜𝒽𝓃𝓃𝓎 "𝓈𝑜𝒶𝓅" 𝓂𝒶𝒸𝓉𝒶𝓋𝒾𝓈𝒽

undercover and undiscovered feelings - soap x fem!reader it's bad enough your mission puts you under the spotlight, now you have to deal with your feelings for the scotsman too?

𝓀𝓎𝓁𝑒 "𝑔𝒶𝓏" 𝑔𝒶𝓇𝓇𝒾𝒸𝓀

choose your flowers, carefully - gaz x childhood love!reader

faint whispers of flowers SERIES - as you bundled the wild array of periwinkles, daffodils, yellow tulips, marigolds, zinnias, and phlox, you couldn’t help but think how something so beautiful can also has its own language.

follow gaz and his childhood friend through life as they tell you their story with flowers.

part I - periwinkles and daffodils

part II - yellow tulips

part III - marigolds and zinnias

part IV - phlox

extra content

building blocks and alphabet letters - gaz x fem!reader (established relationship) you never would’ve thought you would be married and have a daughter with the boy who was eating toy blocks in daycare. but here you are, reassuring your toddler that going to school isn’t the end of the world.

an undercover beach episode - gaz x fem!reader (codename: genesis) you're always paired with gaz for undercover missions but this time your uniform is a pair of bathing suits

r e q u e s t s

modern day nightingale - gaz x gn!nurse!reader an injury lands gaz in your care but despite the unfortunate meeting, you find yourself in a budding relationship. however this isn’t a fairytale romance and ends when he’s discharged without a word :(

dumb and in love - gaz x gn!civ!reader kyle may be the smartest one on the field, he’s a little dense when it comes to realizing you’re in love with him

we're the widows - kyle "gaz" garrick x reader kyle's secret girlfriend has an undercover alias: the major of a secret task force of women soldiers  

𝒶𝓁𝑒𝒿𝒶𝓃𝒹𝓇𝑜 𝓋𝒶𝓇𝑔𝒶𝓈

just the way you look tonight WIP - alejandro x afab!reader everyone thought you and alejandro would be married by now but alas you still don’t have a ring on your finger. however, after attending simon’s wedding, something changes for alejandro.

𝓅𝒽𝒾𝓁𝓁𝒾𝓅 𝑔𝓇𝒶𝓋𝑒𝓈

graves headcanons - phillip graves is two things 1. an asshole and 2. very american, here's some headcanons for this problematic man

r e q u e s t s

graves returns - graves x fem!reader you thought your husband was dead but now he's at your apartment after you were suppose to be off-the-grid

𝓇𝑒𝓆𝓊𝑒𝓈𝓉𝓈

medication mixup - 141 x reader the medic unknowingly prescribing you a penicillin has disastrous results due to your allergy

141’s dossier❤️ - see what the dossiers laswell gets at the end of mw 2019 looks like! + template

the scene life - 141 x fem!scene!reader with your eccentric style and love for raves, you show the 141 a peek into your life

running mascara PART I and PART II❤️ - 141 x fem!reader harsh words are said and you try your best to run away from the cause. however, everyone needs to face the issue eventually and now the 141 is left to pick up the pieces. initially part of my 1k celebration but i added a sequel as it was highly requested!

horror movie protagonist - 141, könig x gn!platonic!reader a common hazing ritual is to watch a gruesome horror movie but the 141 is a little put off when you watch it with a smile on your face

vidcon but uk edition - 141 x reader what would your life be with the 141 if you were a YouTuber?

tamer of dogs and men❤️ - simon "ghost" riley x vet!reader simon finds his heart in the army's vet captain

cabin fever - simon "ghost" riley x reader after a mission goes wrong, you and ghost are left to find warmth in a snowed out cabin

science and pheromones - simon "ghost" riley x male!reader the bunsen burner isn't the only thing that's heating up when you and ghost, your body guard, are left alone in the lab

a spice girl extra - 141 x reader when you show up at the pub, the boys are surprised at your choice of attire. it's like you walked out of the 2000's or something! PT II - when you take the boys to the club

an artist’s touch - 141 x platonic!reader how does the 141 react to you being an artist in your free time?

last name: riley❤️ - 141 (except ghost) x fem!reader flirtations and chaos ensues when you arrive on base and the 141 realizes your ghost’s cousin!

the final girl trope - 141 x gn!reader you have a past you keep hidden but once it comes to the surface, you entertain the 141 with your own horror movie plot

shutting down the patriarchy❤️ - 141 x gn!fem!reader after a long day, all you want to do is unwind but when two certain sergeants get in the way, you’re sure to shut them up

migraines and forehead kisses - 141 x fem!reader the 141 is willing to do the most for you when you come down with your frequent migraines

fear of small things - 141 x platonic!reader despite being a badass soldier, you have one enemy: insects

fit for a magazine cover - 141 x fem!reader all the eyes and cameras are on you when you walk the victoria secret fashion show runway

she's a rich girl - 141 x fem!reader you love to spoil the 141 and show them the more extravagant things in life

small bundle of fluff and joy❤️ - 141 x platonic!reader the 141 meets your tiny, furry companion

teratogenic injury❤️ - 141 x platonic!fem!reader when an injury takes you out, you're surprised to hear that you can no longer have children. the 141 is more surprised when you tell them it's a blessing in disguise

hacking with a grey hat - 141 x platonic!reader the 141 is at odds when they meet one of the most infamous hackers to date

a double life - 141 x fem!reader what happens when the 141 becomes a bit more patriotic in dating their CIA secret agent significant other?

mw2 x reader - my ongoing series of pairing y'all up and writing a short lil blurb about how you met and your relationship

P R O J E C T S

[goober1475]

An Odyssey in Time (pt.1)

On a boiling night in late June I woke up in a cold sweat and sporting a parched throat. Water, I needed some water. Reaching for the metal flask I swore in frustration when I found it empty. I would have to get up at...01:03 A.M. in the morning...in the dark, to get water. Great.

Sauntering into the kitchen with a sleepy look on my face, I moved to turn on the countertop lights. Flickering, buzzing and then growing silent, a warm glow which barely shed light on a quarter of the room illuminated my face. A gaunt pale visage stared back at me from my window. After surveying my appearance for a moment, I moved to the fridge.

Knowing the heat I wouldn't be able to sleep for a while, so I searched for a snack like a blind mole. Focaccia and hummus would do.

After refilling my bottle and taking a sip I cringed in disgust.Although fresh, the water tasted rancid. Even my dehydrated organs churned in discomfort. I had consistently forgotten to wash my water bottle, causing the contents itself to go bad. Screwing my face up in displeasure, I poured the water out and let the bottle soak in some soapy water for a while.

I busied my hands while waiting by refilling the water filter, watching the liquid slowly drip into the second compartment.

Leaning back on the counter, I barely registered the pain digging into my hip caused by a corner of the work top. Staring at the water dripping and focusing on the gentle hum of the lights, I closed my eyes in thought.

Exams for the year were finished, projects complete, extracurriculars over and all but one of my papers for the year published.

For some unexplainable reason it still felt like I hadn't done enough. I had started slacking with my art, was that it? It didn't feel like it. Oh well. It was only the end of my first year in University and considering everyone else I had done rather well.

There was a sinfully pleasurable feeling to learning. It was as if I was Eve accepting the apple of knowledge from Lucifer. His deceptive promises and great praises luring me further and further away from others. The act of displaying my prowess in a multitude of areas felt better than any alcohol. The congratulations I received from my professors after winning an academic prize or reading my own work in a journal could be beaten by no high. I was sure of this. The water had stopped dripping from the filter's first compartment.

Slowly walking back to my room, I precariously balanced my snack and water bottle with one hand an opened my bedroom door with the other. I stumbled over my latest paper strewn over the floor. I hoped to have it published in a medieval journal but was yet to proofread.

Might as well reread it now.

I gathered the papers together and sidled over to my already cramped desk. A half finished set of watercolours, stacks of paper and a few piles of books were neatly stacked in any available spaces. Settling down into my chair, I started to work through the essay.

It was on King Baldwin IV and his ruling of Jerusalem, discussing whether or not his rule was successful or not.

It was 02:00 A.M. by the time I had finished reading and I fell back onto my bed exhausted. I stayed on top of the covers and basked in the momentary cool breeze coming from my window as I drifted off.

Dreams of crusades and beautiful walled cities dominated my dreams. I was a knight and was travelling to Jerusalem on a dirt road. A great battle was to take place and I had been called to fight.

Sword secured at my hip, I quietly surveyed the landscape. A warm blue sky inhabited by a swelteringly hot sun which burned the back of my exposed neck contained not a cloud. Great hills as barren as the sky above loomed over me. The only manmade object was a sign pointing my way. My horse trudged on and I gave her a pat in sympathy. she snorted unimpressed.

The great city finally came into view, its presence seemed to swallow up the previously intimidating land in its shadow. it truly looked like the seat of God.

I woke up before reaching the gates but had gotten close enough to catch sight of a figure swathed in pure whites robes watching me from the battlements. Just as I bowed my head in respect to the person who looked too holy to be human, the edges of my vision blurred. A bright sun creeped in through my eyelids as I creased my brow in frustration.