* ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐒𝐈𝐀.

damn your rules . i'm a woman of power , i can do whatever i want , and i'll still be at the top .

ᅠᅠ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ perhaps, it’d be best if you /didn’t/ think about me. ᅠᅠ

ᅠᅠ tiredness seeped out of his bones, through his lax posture. it sat rigidly on his shoulders, for they stiffened at the sound of her voice. and his eyes? sharp as lasers, locked onto her. no word was spoken, he simply watched the rain drench them both, laden with a chilly shower. ᅠᅠ

i can see through the scars inside you.

my first and last thought had always been you.

please touch me. please hold me. please want me.

⠀ ⠀⠀⠀© ΠΛΑΣΜΑ ΤΟΥ ΦΩΤΟΣ. ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ 𝟔𝐭𝐡 𝐥𝐢, love&deepspace. ⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀

ᅠᅠ ⠀ screams, ever heard of ’em? the kind filled with terror, then there’s the other kind, the kind that are dead silent but soaked in hell and chaos. they reek of blood, born from getting caught in the midst of a crossfire, from losing either your sanity.. or worse, your life. demons. mortals called ’em demons, wearing the skin of mankind, living as death did, quietly, in the mundane world like any other. caleb felt the sting of it. thunder cracked above, signaling rain. hell, he’d tasted the first raindrop the moment he’d set foot into enemy territory. rurik had been right all along. he’d be damned if he didn’t heed the reaper’s words. the house of horrors was not for the faint of heart, least of all for an ordinary human. but he’d taken his chances. to peek into his past. to glimpse the life of a man whose name alone could stir fear and trembling. now, hell was on his tail. and with stolen files tucked beneath his black leather jacket, the repercussions followed just as fast. anastasia’s closeness and her veering words snapped him out of his stupor. but it was never the thoughts that threw caleb into that slow world of numbness and dizzying loopholes. it was the scent of blood. the blur of movement. his fingers locked so tight around the bike handles, the knuckles on his right hand had turned white. heat burned across his right shoulder, crawling from the blade down to the rest of his muscle. his breath hitched, sharp, erratic, drawn like blades through clenched teeth. her voice was distant, barely a murmur in the chaos. it wasn’t her fault. it was the pain, or was it even pain anymore? his nervous system couldn’t decide. it spiraled, relapsing into memories. buried ones. forgotten ones. the kind that jarred his chest into shallow, breaking gasps. sweat began to streak from his temples, sliding sleek against his cheeks in a downhill slope. “wouldn’t even dream of it,” he chuckled, tightening his grip. and then he revved. the tires screeched against wet asphalt, wind howling through his jacket like a living thing. rain sheeted sideways, cold and violent. bullets seared past, and those screams, both of frustration and death, faded into nothing but dying echoes behind him. ᅠᅠ