#velvety burnout

[shoeboxasylum]

💊🎃ShoeBox Asylum approved Halloween crafting!~ 🎃💊

🖤🧡We need more medicinal Halloween!🧡🖤

[velvetyburnout]

Kitty doodle(s)...

[angelmush]

starting to feel my enjoyment of cooking seeping back in after a long period of intense burnout that had me really slogging along preparing meals with gritted teeth for a good month there. i credit the return of this spark to the much needed break i took on our 3 day vacation that resulted in us eating solely theme park food. while delicious, in all its greasy overpriced glory, i found myself missing the kitchen. so last night for dinner i made heavily spiced chicken wings with crushed peppercorns and garam masala that rendered slowly in its own fat while roasting in the oven, resulting in flavorful charred crisp skin and a really juicy bite. we picked them clean over steamed rice with lime and scallions. i also baked a loaf of marbled pumpkin and dark chocolate bread yesterday for my neighbor as a thank you for doing me a favor last week. it looked delicious. the crumb was tender and plush and velvety, the spiced ginger molasses pumpkin batter swirling alongside the bitter dark chocolate espresso batter, with puddles of dark chocolate bubbling across its top. it looked so lovely i whipped up a second one for us to have for ourselves that's in the oven now, i think it could be a really good breakfast pastry for us this week.

[dotieeee]

A Small Act of Kindness

A DARK one-shot

Pairing: Dark!Morpheus x you, afab reader

Warnings: dark!Morpheus, obsessive behaviour, dark!Dream won't take 'no' for an answer, disturbing themes like kidnapping, imprisonment, isolation, etc, 18+ only!!

Inspired by this ask for @roguelov See: https://www.tumblr.com/roguelov/721739134130143232/this-isnt-smut-but-dream-has-strong-miette?source=share

Summary: You were at the cusp of making a life for yourself when you bought a loaf of bread for a stranger, who seemed a little bit too taken with such a nice gesture.

When you were a kid, everybody around you seemed to think you got a great life ahead of you. You kept hearing them comment how bright you were, how talented, how lucky your parents were to have such a behaved, wonderful child - and for a time, it got to your head.

Until life proved you weren't really any of those things.

It started creeping in when you went away to college. You had a taste of freedom, of zero expectations, and a glimpse of a world suddenly leagues beyond yourself. It was one class at first, then another, until you started dropping out of every class and left college altogether.

Many therapy sessions, and a couple of therapists later, you found out what it was called: burnout. It just so happened it plagued you a little early in life.

In retrospect, perhaps you could've tried harder - if you had just snoozed your alarm off a little less; if you had just grit your teeth and stomached your way through a few more algebra periods instead of sitting alone in that little corner of the library, reading whatever, hidden from a world you barely knew - perhaps it all would've been different.

Perhaps, you wouldn't be stuck in this small, glass cage floating in a vast chasm, in a place you hadn't thought existed even in your wildest dreams.

It was a day like any other, you supposed: the day you met him. You had to go to work, to a desk job that you actually liked, writing for a local food magazine. You were quite good at it too - it's a skill you had when you were quite young and had not had a chance to cultivate until late. Sure, you were barely making ends meet and had very little time to spare, what with taking a certificate course at a nearby university and recently moving out of your parents' house to rent your own little apartment, but you were feeling optimistic for the first time in a long while. Your boss just let it slip the other day that you were due for a well-deserved promotion soon. It was a slow process, but you were finally on your way to getting your life back together. You had a future you looked forward to.

Having already established your morning routine, you were on your way early to the office and decided to stop for coffee at this corner bakeshop you had once featured in one of your articles. The smell of freshly baked bread distracted you from a mental draft you were making for an article due tonight, so on impulse, you asked the cashier for a plain butter croissant at the counter. You looked to your right where the pastries were to see whether you wanted something else (the danishes looked scrumptious). You opened your mouth to ask the other lady behind the bread counter for a cherry danish, but her attention was already on the man beside you, clad in a thick, woollen black coat, collar upturned, his chiselled jaw clenched and his eyes narrowed ever-so-slightly at the question the lady posed for him.

"Uh, sir? I asked what you'd like to have?"

He tilted his head imperceptibly and for a moment, you thought he couldn't speak, until he opened those pursed lips, and finally, came out the most velvety, alluring voice you've ever heard: "I'd like some bread, please."

"Well, we've got quite a lot of them," the lady replied slowly as if she was trying her best not to be snarky at the stranger. "Might I recommend the baguette? It's fresh out of the oven."

The man nodded curtly as the lady picked the steaming bread from the basket display using a pair of tongs and placed it inside a brown paper bag.

"That'll be one twenty-five, sir."

The man made no move to shuffle in his pockets for money. In fact, he stayed still, stiff as a board, staring at the lady behind the counter who was getting rather irritated at his dawdling, probably keeping her from attending to the growing line of other customers waiting to get their breakfast. Perhaps, he didn't have money? Perhaps, just like your first few weeks out of your parents' house, he was struggling and he had no one else to depend on?

"I-I'll pay for it."

You didn't know what it really was that compelled you to say it - maybe it was that draft you were itching to get to, maybe you found empathy in his situation, whatever it was - at that time, you had no regrets. Seemingly surprised by the gesture, the man in the black coat, with his dishevelled hair and his pale countenance, stared at you intensely through those long eyelashes of his, and for a few moments, you held his gaze.

His eyes. They were a nice shade of ocean blue. They were the most beautiful pair of eyes you had ever seen.

You would later discover they could bleed to depthless black - ruthless, vindictive, inhuman.

The cashier handed you your change and your croissant, effectively breaking the spell the stranger beside you had on you. The cherry danish all but ignored, you flashed the man a small smile and headed out of the bakeshop, going about your merry way to the office with nothing but that article in mind.

And for the next two weeks, you had already put the rather bizarre incident (man) behind you, having been assigned to another place to visit and write about.

The man, however, never forgot.

The place you had been assigned to, called the New Inn, actually belonged to a professor in your university. You've had quite a lot of fun in his classes, so this was a gig you were pretty excited about.

It was a little over five in the afternoon when you stepped inside Professor Gadling's pub. He was already there in the corner booth, grading several essays. He put them aside as you arrived and asked a waiter to bring you both coffee. You were in the process of bringing out your digital recorder for the interview when you heard a voice so familiar it sent shivers down your spine.

"Hob."

Completely taken by surprise, you dropped the recorder to the floor, and it landed just a few inches from a pair of black boots. You tried to reach for it, but a pale, bony hand picked it up and wordlessly handed it to you. You looked up, only to get lost in a pair of ocean-blue eyes focused entirely on you.

It was the stranger from the bakeshop.

You took the recorder, muttering a flustered 'thank you,' before Professor Gadling greeted him like an old friend. He then introduced you to the stranger, who oddly enough just stared at you the entire time.

"She's interviewing me for the pub. I'll be featured in a magazine, can you believe it?" Professor Gadling said to the stranger who stepped inside the booth, intending to take the empty seat directly across from you. Turning to you, he stated, "This is my friend -"

"You may call me Morpheus." The man interrupted, a ghost of a smile visible on his usually blank features. "It is a pleasure to finally meet you."

It was unnerving the way he held your gaze without blinking, but perhaps it was just your imagination - after all, you hadn't had anything to eat since that leftover Chinese noodles this morning.

“Pleasure’s all mine,” was all you could come up with.

You were grateful when the waiter arrived with two cups of coffee and a dessert platter, and the interview with the professor went well and without interruptions. You both had so much fun, you ended up having dinner and drinks at the pub, and while it struck you odd that your third, silent companion did not partake in any single morsel of the food, by the time the evening ended at half-past ten, you had enough material for your article and were in great spirits. You thanked him for being such a gracious host and politely bid your farewell, as you were anxious to get a headstart on the draft.

The three of you simultaneously got to your feet - Professor Gadling to walk you outside, and the odd man named Morpheus trailing behind.

"Do come by again, my dear, and good luck with the article. I know you'd do a fantastic job." The professor said as he waved farewell outside the pub. He turned to Morpheus, who stood just a few feet away, watching the interaction, and gestured to him inside - presumably for them to continue their conversation - but as soon as you waved goodbye, he made a beeline for you, stopping just a few inches away and towering over you.

Too close, you thought. Wait, were his eyes twinkling? It must’ve been the streetlamp, the lights outside were pretty dim.

"I would like to accompany you on your walk home."

His words threw you off because they were so unexpected. He had no reason to do so, after all. Shyly, you beamed at him and replied, "I'd appreciate it, Morpheus, but I wouldn't like to impose...weren't you meeting with the professor?"

Professor Gadling, who apparently was in earshot of your conversation, waved you away.

"No, it's fine, dear. Besides, a young lady such as yourself shouldn't be walking alone at night. I'll see you some other time, my friend," he added, winking at Morpheus, who just tilted his chin in reply.

The professor had a point. You lived nearby, that was true, but the streets weren't safe on a Friday night, especially at this hour. You chewed on the insides of your cheek, nervous at the fact that you have not had anyone walk you home in a long while.

It's just a walk home. It couldn't be that bad, could it?

"Okay."

You would come to regret your response.

***

Inwardly, Morpheus rejoiced at the thought of you lowering your guard with him. He motioned with a hand to let you lead the way, not that he needed it - in two weeks after your fateful encounter at the bakeshop he had gotten to know every little detail he needed to know about you, including where you lived, of course. He had seen the little apartment himself when you were out at work, and while it irked him that you had to live in such a humble abode, he knew through your dreams that you had filled the apartment with love and considered it your sanctuary. It wouldn't matter once he took you home to his kingdom as his lover - for you, he'd craft an entire palace carved in precious stones in the blink of an eye, and it would be your sanctuary, just as much as this tiny home.

He did a fine job, too, of luring you into the place his centuries-old friend now owned. It took him only one dream, planted during your boss’s deepest slumber, for you to get sent right where Morpheus wanted you to be. All this planning and you were right there, with him, just as the fates would have it.

He had to ask you tonight. He has waited long enough.

***

You were just a few blocks away from your apartment building when you finally gained the courage to break the awkward silence between you two.

"Thank you for walking me home," you said quietly as you eyed him sideways. Your eyes widened at the sight that greeted you: he had a genuine, warm smile on his face you'd never seen on him before, and if his demeanour is anything to go by, you knew this was a rarity.

He looked like a prince, even with his hair sticking out in all directions.

"It is I who should be thanking you for your kindness to me at that establishment," he spoke with conviction. "I have not forgotten."

Surprised, but overall glad that he remembered, you matched his expression as best you can and replied, "You're welcome."

Nothing was ever exchanged until you reached your apartment door, but he seemed to draw closer to you, your shoulders almost touching.

Your hand was already at the keys to the doorknob when you asked him if he wanted to come in.

"For tea, perhaps?" You added. "I couldn't help but notice you didn’t eat at dinner, so…”

It was a last-minute decision, seeing as he was kind enough to ensure you got home safely. He could do with a few biscuits, too, in your opinion, judging by his pallor and his refusal to eat anything at the pub.

There it was again - that captivating smile, but behind it, you see a flash of something else entirely. It was gone even before you could fully take it in, so you shrugged inwardly. The hallway’s lighting has always been too dark to see a damn thing.

“You need not concern yourself over me, I am much stronger than I look,” he said in a light, teasing tone. “However, your effort would be appreciated.”

“Oh, it’s no problem!” You waved him off and pushed the door open to your home. “I just hope you don’t mind tea without milk, I haven’t done any grocery shopping yet…”

Morpheus followed you inside, closing the door behind him, as you went off to your room to drop your bag on the bed and set up your laptop on your work desk. As soon as you got out of your room, you found him with his back to you, rummaging through the copies of the magazine you wrote for.

“Nothing interesting in those, I’m afraid. Still, not bad for a would-be writer, don’t you think?”

Chuckling to yourself, you made your way to the tiny kitchen to put the electric kettle to boil, then rummaged through the cupboards for a mug you were saving for when you had guests over. Not that you’ve ever had any - so far, he was the first you’ve had since you moved in.

“‘A would-be writer?’”

The proximity of his voice startled you, seeing as you thought he had still been reading back in the living room. It’s admittedly only a few steps away, but you hadn’t heard him approach. He was at the kitchen doorway, casting a long shadow in the dimly lit space. You had forgotten to turn the lights on, but it didn’t seem to bother him.

“You give yourself very little credit for such riveting work,” he said as he closed the distance between you. The kettle had just turned off by itself, so you concentrated on pouring the boiling water on the mug and dropping a Ceylon tea bag inside. Leaning on the tiled counter, you watched the tea leaves bleed into the water, turning it to a lovely amber colour.

“I don’t know about that -”

Your sentence was cut short as you felt his fingertips subtly stroke your elbow, giving you goosebumps all over your arm.

He’d gotten so close…

Scooping up the mug with both hands, you turn around to hand him the mug, only to find yourself inches away from him you almost spill the hot liquid on his woollen coat.

“Your writing has soul. I should know: I have read every word you have ever written.”

Blinking up at him, you saw him dip his head closer to yours as his pale, warm hands enclosed around yours, still holding the tea.

You were trembling, it seemed, but he stilled it.

“Th-thank you," you whispered, unable to avert your gaze from those piercing blue eyes that seemed to pin you to place, as was his tall, imposing form enclosing you between him and the kitchen counter. He was so close you could feel the heat emanating from him. "That means so much to me.”

Or was it the heat from your cheeks you felt?

Seemingly oblivious to your increasingly flustered state, Morpheus made a deliberate move to extricate the cup of tea from your grasp so he could set it back down behind you (it was probably already over-brewed, you thought), while you try to compose yourself and ignore his fingers softly grazing your knuckles. You didn't have much time, however, because the next thing you knew was those same hands cupping your cheeks and his soft lips brushing over yours in a chaste kiss that stole your breath completely.

You felt him release his hold on you, perhaps to observe your reaction. Perhaps, you could’ve pushed him away right there and then; screamed at him for touching you and thrown him out of your home; but you couldn’t summon your limbs to respond. He took your momentary lapse of judgement to crash his lips on yours once more - it was a more heated, more insistent kiss, and as if to seal you to him, his hands travelled to your back to encase you in an embrace and pushed you further into the counter.

This was wrong.

It was all your instincts could tell you. So you heeded them and pushed against the lapel of his coat with all your strength. It was like pushing against a wall, but you managed to wriggle free from his grasp, so you made an effort to put as much distance between you and him as your tiny kitchen would allow. You glanced immediately at his face to gauge his expression, and to your utter shock, his eyes had gone entirely black. One blink, and it was blue once more, maybe even a tad regretful.

It’s the lighting in this damn kitchen, you assured yourself.

“I understand I may have been too forward,” he began, “But I assure you, my intentions are pure. I have waited for this since our fateful meeting.” He took slow steps towards you, and unconsciously you backed away until your back hit the fridge. There was nowhere else to back into. He halted as soon as he sensed your guard up.

“Morpheus, it was just a loaf of bread, really…”

Morpheus’s eyes softened visibly at your words and simply continued, “And by that selfless act, you have saved me in more ways than you could ever understand. I have held you in my heart since, my precious little saviour.”

“I-I'm sure it's nothing...” you stammered.

“Allow me the honour of courting you, and in turn, you shall know of my gratitude, and my love, until the end of my days.”

Your heart sank at his declaration. Somehow, you knew in your heart he meant every word he said. You couldn’t have this, not when everything in your life was just starting to fall into place. You put on the kindest smile you could muster and spoke slowly as you chose the right words, hoping he wouldn’t be too downcast with what you were about to say to him.

“I'm sure you're a wonderful man, Morpheus. I just…I don't think I can make that commitment right now. I mean, I just met you, and all I know about you is that you’re Professor Gadling’s friend.”

“That can be rectified.”

You let out a sigh. This was going to be difficult, but you really didn’t like the idea of egging him on. “I know that, but…I don’t think I have time for that, you know?”

“How so?” he asked in a low voice, tilting his head slightly.

“It's been a struggle just to get to where I am today… I have my work, which I love, and for the first time in my life, I feel like I'm doing something right and…one wrong move could make me lose my footing. I’m sorry.”

Morpheus seemed unconvinced, taking a few steps forward to close that gap between you. “You need not worry yourself over such trivial matters. I know what you dream of. I can give you the recognition you deserve, the stability you crave and more… Come with me and I can show you.”

He offered an outstretched hand, urging you to take it. But if you were being honest, you just wanted to crawl into bed, the draft be damned. Exhaustion was starting to creep up on you.

“‘Come with you…?’ I'm sorry, please don't take this the wrong way, I'm sure you mean well…but-but-th-this isn't really a good time for this…” you stammered as you crossed your arms to make a point, which you hoped he’d finally take. “I think I'd like to be alone now, please. I-I have that…thing I want to finish, and it's getting late…I’m sorry, Morpheus. I really am.”

Morpheus’s hand lowered steadily, but all the softness he had in his expression was gone without a trace, replaced with cold, hard eyes and furrowed brows. The warmth you have loved your apartment for all but disappeared, replaced with a clammy air that seemed to come from…from him.

“You have no idea what you've just turned away…nor who I am, and what I can do,” came Morpheus’s voice, lowered to an unrecognisable timbre. “I will give you this final chance to amend your answer, my little saviour.”

“E-excuse me?” you said, fighting the urge to run away from him and hide. This was your home, you had no reason to. Who the hell was he to threaten you in your own home? “I'd like you to leave, please, or I'm calling the police…”

He was only a few feet away from you now, and the wind somehow grew stronger, you could feel its rough caress on your skin.

Sand.

The light in your kitchen turned on without a warning, and your eyes widened at the sight of the man you had so carelessly allowed into your home:

A dangerous man - now a being transforming right before you - with chilling black eyes, a heavy flurry of sand circling him, and waves of black smoke emanating from his growing form…

Paralyzed in utter fear, your heart pounding in your ears, all you could do was hold on to the fridge as you watched him approach your cowering form on the floor. Gone was that princely face you shared a gentle kiss with, replaced by a bony, skeletal mask with hollow cheekbones, his mouth contorted in a snarl that revealed razor-sharp fangs.

His voice echoed as he spoke, raspy and deafening:

“I am quite disappointed in you, my precious saviour. No matter: I am not unmerciful.” A pale hand, now with blackened, sharpened nails, made an appearance before you. “Take my hand, my beloved, and I shall forgive your error.”

In your terrified state, all you could muster was an adamant shake of your head.

This can’t be real. It couldn’t be.

“I’m dreaming, I'm-I’m dreaming this, this can’t be real, you’re no-not real…” hunched on the floor, hugging your legs, you muttered to yourself.

“Very well,” he thundered. “You have made your choice. ”

You would later discover just how real dreams could be, and that they weren’t that much different from the nightmares.

***

Morpheus released a small sigh as he watched you in your spherical compartment, deep in troubled slumber. He had not meant to frighten you that much with his nightmarish form. Admittedly, he could’ve done a much better job with reeling himself in, but the pain of your rejection felt to him like a thousand daggers being plunged into his heart. All he wanted was for you to be happy with him. He could’ve given you everything he had seen you dream of - he still could, but not before he heard from your sweet lips an admittance of your guilt, and a vow never to spurn him again. 

He held the tiny sphere that contained your form in his palm and drew it closer to his face to get a better look at you. He had fashioned you a dress that brought out the colour of your eyes and soul: you looked ravishing, even in imprisonment. In his mind, he had played the memory of the kiss you had shared with him in your home a thousand times over. You were intoxicating, and the thought of kissing you again and finally marking your skin cemented his decision of keeping you in this space he crafted in his kingdom. You needed time to consider his proposal, that was to be expected. He would allow you the time you needed. All he had to do was assure you of your safety and well-being, seeing as scaring you even further might prolong his wait.

He knew you would wake soon, and he would explain his actions when you do. You would have no reason to refuse him, then.

***

You woke with a start, rubbing the sleep off your eyes, just to sit up and think.

You had lost count of the number of days you had spent in your glass enclosure, and there was nothing much to do except to observe your surroundings - nothing but a vast space, where distant stars glittered in the black tapestry that was space, with a single source of light in sight, like the sun, only that it offered no warmth. That, and to ruminate on the events that led you to this situation.

You remembered when you first came to, locked in this glorified cage. You still thought you were dreaming then, so you did everything you could to try waking yourself up, only none of it worked. That was when he appeared.

Dream of the Endless, he had called himself. The King of Dreams and Ruler of the Nightmare Realm.

He claimed to rule the place he had taken you to, which he called the Dreaming. He had then explained that everything humanity (‘your kind,’ you recalled him saying) had ever dreamed of in its sleep was as real as everything it sees, hears, and feels in its waking hours and that he presided over them since the first living creature dreamed, and will do so until the end of all life.

He had revealed that he had watched over you, your dreams and your waking hours, since your first meeting, and that he had not meant to scare you, only that he wished for you to accept his advances.

That was the first of his many attempts to get you to say ‘yes.’

He would ask in many ways: a long walk in this garden he called the Fiddler’s Green; a sumptuous dinner in one of his many grand halls; an adventurous tryst in one of the humans’ dreams. He had promised that if you agreed to be courted by him and be with him, he would take you out of your enclosure and release you, allow you to roam his kingdom as his lover, forever wanting nothing and lavishing in all the riches and trinkets he could offer.

From then, you knew you would never be allowed back into the life you had worked so hard to build, humble as it may have been.

At first, your response to his attempts of coaxing you into a relationship with him was a string of incoherent curses and screaming. After a while, they were plain ignored - his face would remain blank every time, if not a tad disappointed, or hurt.

You didn’t care.

But you were also lying if you said it hadn’t worn out your resolve. This day was one of them.

You missed food. Not that you were ever hungry - he had removed hunger from you in your imprisonment. He had given you the gift of dreamless sleep as well, but in your time alone with nothing to do except wake and sleep, you’d give almost anything to have dreams again. You had no other company except him and the vast, endless space beyond your cage that he had conjured for you. You being sealed away from everything was driving you closer to insanity every day, and that was his design: to make you desperate enough to submit to his will.

Without warning, your hair stood at the back of your neck, your senses on high alert.

Dream of the Endless had arrived.

“My precious little saviour,” he greeted in that deep, velvety voice you had grown to hate and find comfort in at the same time. “I have come for you.”

Your captor had a warm smile on his regal features, one that didn’t match his true intentions. You stared at him with a blank expression and let his greeting go unanswered.

“Will you join me for a walk in my garden?”

He kept his eye contact with you as he waited for your response. It unnerved you to no end, the way he held your gaze with those ocean-blue eyes of his, knowing a single ‘no’ from you would instantly turn it to the black ones you have known to fear. When you opened your mouth to speak, it actually hurt your throat - you hadn’t spoken in a long time.

“Will you be locking me up again, after?”

He grinned at you and tilted his head slightly. “If you behave and do as I say, I will not.”

Only a single tear that escaped from your eye betrayed that gnawing feeling of defeat in your gut. Finally swallowing whatever pride you had left, you made a decision.

“Yes.”

You should never have bought him that damned loaf of bread.

***

Just a little one-shot I wanted to write to get myself out of a writing rut I've been stuck with wanting Comatose to be perfect it stressed me out too much :// I will still work on it, I promise! I just need to get this out the way to get my writing mojo back :D

PART II here!!!!

Thank you for reading!!!! Please engage and all that it's really appreciate iiiit

***

[kamesama]

— eyes: william rex.

— notes + warnings: william rex x harriet crawford ( oc ). no warnings. a little something written solely to treat myself because i've almost reached a point of a burnout. yes, i am playing something by cybird again. — word count: 429

your eyes betray you, robin.

she walked erect; proud and unbeatable, a monarch with no war lost. sometimes, her lips seemed to press shut as if honouring an oath that allowed no slip-ups. something tremendously heavy lurked in-between the thick hairs of her eyebrows and appeared to warn that a step too close could be fatal. it was the mock-authority; a seal on her heart. a fortress greatly guarded.

but her eyes. oh, her eyes; the pools of warm hazel like forest grounds basked in sunlight. like ferns and moss and penny buns and tree barks. a pair of traitors overwhelmed with curiosity, clouded by wonder so profound it almost pierced a veil of reality. akin to little thieves, they stole their glances at whatever called out to them; a dress shamelessly displayed beyond the boutique's window, a handsome man made mysterious by a fedora, a steaming pastry resting underneath a generous layer of powdered sugar in the bakery, and – whenever they thought they were particularly slick – a certain villain. 

they seemed to attempt to strip him off of something; to plunge deep underneath the gloomy waves of his mind. it was a tenacious, burdensome endeavor, it seemed. the type to leave one empty handed. 

william relished in getting crumbs of such attention. bold, yet utterly shy, reeking of interest despite the best efforts to remain subtly unnoticed. it spoke volumes of a desire – dark and velvety – kept under a lock and key. he recognised it as a cry for help. a plea for attention. an unspoken prayer for him to make the walls of her fortress crumble into nothing but dust. 

and it was loud.

william heard it across the vast sea of chitter-chatter and clinks and clanks. his crimson eyes – sharp and smiling – trailed off a man who’s just bid him the most cordial farewell, and met hers. she devoured him and found him hard to digest, it appeared; a notion that made his smooth smirk deepen with an unspoken promise. she stripped him of both clothes and facade, and he remained certain that she ached to have her hands on his skin and herself beneath it. 

your eyes betray you, robin. they’re begging you to give in, tempting you to trust.

but ever so stubborn, she looked away, wholly unaware of how her thoughts leaked from out of her pores; seeping. her gaze drifted elsewhere, once more hazed by a heavy thought. a wonder. a decision in the making. 

you know what they say, my little girl – stare into the abyss, and the abyss stares back at you.

thank you for reading!

— kamesama.

[thefallenangelsgang]

Seeing as I just got tagged again in something similar by the lovely @victoriouscabaret, I probably should wrap this one up lmao. Unfortunately I'm about to show y'all how horrifically baby I am (as if the incessant Gen Z style posting and vocabulary wasn't telling enough 😭)

-------------------

Do you make your bed?

NO. The most I do is straighten the sheets (because I have yet to meet a sheet or life hack secure enough to beat my slumbering form. It's actually comical how easily I can pull a sheet off the corners) and shake out my blankets when they have more than the usual amount of cat hair on them. Sheets and pillowcases go on after wash and blankets get dumped in a pile on the foot lmao.

Favorite number?

Anything devisable by 5. Looking back on it actually a miracle no one diagnosed me with OCD sooner. I have childhood memories of compulsively counting things by fives and I have an abnormal interest in the way time breaks down by fives. The fact that you can use the analog clock face to do 5s multiplication tables is also a fun fact that still amuses me to this day. That probably only marginally has to do with OCD though.

What's your job?

I'm a student in university for History and Theater and maybe Poli Sci (except for this last semester, which I took off to reign in the burnout I've been nursing since I was way too young to be experiencing burnout on that scale). I have a summer job as a Housekeeper at a local nursing home. It is far from my first pick but the pay is very good for my area and it puts the compulsion to sterilize everything to work relatively well. When I'm on campus I work in the Theater's Costume Shop.

What I want to do is a different matter. My dream will always be to Act but the stressors are a lot and I am far from marketable to a common audience. I am aiming for a day job in Museum work (exhibit design or educator) with contract night work in Theater Tech (lighting, sound, or costume design) or even finding a way to fully do tech work in a stable manner.

Can you parallel park?

Yes but in nothing bigger than a small SUV and only in spots that are obviously much bigger than my car. I refuse to putz around with tight spots. I'll walk my disabled ass if I have to.

Do you think aliens are real?

I have no strong opinions. I am never going to say "absolutely not" cause history is full of hypotheses being disproven. This is also my rule when dealing with the concept of god and cryptids. Oral histories and folklore meets phenomena our brains have trouble comprehending and I am never going to say something is impossible just because our meaty overlords (that being the brain) fills gaps.

And also shit gets weird in the Appalachian Mountains. Between the chemical poisoning from generations of mining operations, waste sites, the dense vast forests, and unmapped cave systems, I'm never going to 100% say "that cannot happen."

Can you drive a manual car?

This is the one that babies me significantly. No. Though I am interested in learning!

What's your guilty pleasure?

I love taking pitch black showers. In the cooler months (before every day gets up to 70°F+) I like them piping hot. It drives my father up the wall because he's a 5 min shower kinda guy and I need to take 45 minutes in the sensory deprivation chamber or I am a bitch.

Tattoos?

None yet. I want some, I've got plans for at least 4, but I am weary of getting them right now. It's a pipe dream, but I filmed a short film that will be hitting major film festivals in 2025. I don't want to commit to the map of the Shire thigh piece I want or the vertebra on the back of my neck on the minuscule chance something big happens. The other 2 are smaller but I'm struggling with placement because I do want them to be hidden.

Favorite color?

Deep jewel tones. bonus points if the word "velvety" describes them. Real slut for royal blue and forest green. Also the washed out sort of khaki green color.

Favorite types of music?

Folk, both traditional and the stylized modern stuff, and Alternative, mainly from the 2000s to the 2010s. I am also into Musical Theater. Anything with a solid rhythm pattern or an emotional sound can very quickly become my favorite.

Do you like puzzles?

Logic games, yes. I don't find traditional puzzles all that relaxing. I am okay at Sudoku and word games. I have the white man hubris that i would kill at escape rooms despite never having done one.

Any phobias?

Spiders. IRL spiders I can mostly handle. They gotta be fuzzy though, those smooth bitches are not friend shaped. The reason I hate smooth spiders is because any kind of fake spider or spider-adjacent creature from any kind of visual media, but specifically very large cgi spiders in film and video games, are my main trigger. Giant painted spider in a fantasy book? no thank you. Spider in video game? Please god let there be an arachnophobia mod/setting. Spider-like creature done in CG or with practical effects? Tell me when this bit is over I feel like I'm going to be sick.

I genuinely think this stems from my childhood fear of real spiders (I was much more weary of them as a tot) and my parents showing me LotR at way too young an age. Shelob was not a suitable visual for a 7 year old to see in the dark.

Favorite childhood sport?

I played Basketball in middle school. I was not very good handling the ball outside of passing but I was very good at seeing and widening openings. I usually played one of the wings on offense and covering the wings on defense.

I was a little terror on defense but you had to be in my area. For some reason the local girls basketball scene was full of teams who fought almost ridiculously dirty. Nearly got in a fist fight with a girl on the court because she was literally two-handed shoving me while we were running a play and I gave it right back. She did not take it well. To highlight how normal that was, the Ref clapped his hands and simply said "Okay girls, fight club is on Tuesday" and didn't do ANYTHING else.

Not to mention my very first year, the girls team only had 5 people on it (that is the MINIMUM number you need). I was a 4th grader playing full games with our only breaks being the hard baked ones (half-time and the short breathers between quarters) and our Time-outs. We once had a difficult game where we were neck and neck with the other team and in the last quarter (so we were in no position to just forfeit) and the Refs saw my tiny ass and the rest of my poor teammates absolutely dying and started using their timeouts (which is a rare occurrence, refs only do that if they have a call to discuss). I think we won that game too.

I miss it from time to time but I'm no longer as spry or are there teams that play that kind of game around me.

Do you talk to yourself?

All the time. Too much probably and some of it barely makes sense lmao. I'm sure it drives my family up the wall.

What movies do you adore?

Oh boy. I don't even know where to begin. The Sound of Music has been a favorite since I was a child and my eyes just recently been opened to the majesty of The Birdcage and To Wong Foo. The LotR movies are up there. Rocky Horror, A League of Their Own, It's A Wonderful Life, and White Christmas.

Essentially anything that celebrates something that society tries to ignore for various reasons (Dumplin' is another example), or is nostalgic to me (Bedknobs and Broomsticks! I can't believe I forgot that movie!), or is made with so much love it bleeds out of the screen. I have a soft spot for old Hollywood films that feature some of the greats of dancing at the time.

Coffee or Tea?

Tea. I despise the taste of coffee. I'll drink espresso on occasion and have suffered through a heavily doctored cup of joe when I need the kick of caffeine but I am a tea person through and through.

I don't like anything particularly bitter and prefer fruity and herbal flavors. I REALLY like mint tea.

First thing you wanted to be growing up?

Labor and Delivery Nurse like my mother. We would visit her before bed when she was on night shift and I remember the nurses station of that unit like it was yesterday. Those are some of the only pleasant memories of a hospital ward I have and I've been in a LOT of hospitals and a LOT of different units over the years.

-------------------

Tagging some people I want to know more about <3 (no pressure though!)

@helena-bug (shhhh I know we've known each other over a decade stfu lmao)

@fablewritesnonsense

@just-another-wasteland-merc

@tcustodis

[witchcraftandburialdirt]

"robin! hey, how's the number one secretary doing today?" akali stands in front of him, grinning as she holds an unopened bottle of wine, wrapped in ribbons and a greeting card stuck to it. "sorry we couldn't stop by in time for your birthday. based on what eve tells me, i heard you got some pretty good tastes in drinks. must have some crazy times, yeah? so here, we got you something!"

── 𝐁𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐇𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝐖𝐈𝐒𝐇𝐄𝐒 ── 𝙼𝙾𝙳𝙴𝚁𝙽 𝚅𝙴𝚁𝚂𝙴

"Mm ━ ?"

Robin's office was filled with the soft hum of computers and the click-clack of keyboards, but amidst the mechanical symphony, Akali's bright voice cut through the air like a sharp knife. She stood by his desk, her presence a mere interruption in his sea of work. Robin, with his eyes fixed on the glowing screen, spared her a fleeting glance before diving back into the depths of his tasks. The exhaustion etched into his features was unmistakable; the heavy bags under his eyes painted in shades of violet and maroon a vivid portrait of sleepless nights and endless deadlines. His bowtie now sat askew, a small detail amidst the chaos of papers and files that surrounded him. As Akali rambled on, Robin's fingers danced across the keyboard, each keystroke a silent plea for respite. The throbbing ache in his temples matched the rhythm of his typing, the rumble of burnout.

After she finished speaking, he rose from his seat with a subtle nod in her direction, his gaze momentarily flickering down to methodically arrange his papers into a neat stack before securing them within his sleek briefcase. The cadence of his footsteps, though brisk, exuded a sense of purpose and efficiency that belied any hint of haste. Meanwhile, Robin nonchalantly shrugged, ambling over to the coffee pot to refill his cup with a casual grace, pouring himself another cup of steaming brew.

"It wasn't as though you missed much," Robin said curtly, helping himself to a spot of cream in his roast before turning to face her again. "I didn't have a party or celebrate, I'm not sure I even will this year … I just can't find the time and it isn't as though its a special day to waste precious, more important, time over."

As he raised the ceramic mug to his lips, the rich aroma of the roast brought a smile to his lips. With a gentle tilt of the cup, the velvety liquid caressed his tongue, releasing a burst of flavor that danced across his taste buds. A soft sigh escaped his lips, carrying with it a wave of contentment as the caffeine worked its magic, awakening his senses and infusing him with a renewed sense of energy. Slowly, he closed his eyes, savoring the moment.

"I appreciate the gift nonetheless, Miss Akali. Thank you."

[peach-cloudz]

Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: Free People Velvety Burnout Floral Skater Dress.

[smbhdwalter]

Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: Anthropologie Susanna Velvet Burnout Flowy and Lacy Top.

[elaappleseed]

Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: Johnny Was Sierra Burnout Darlyn Top. Size M.

[iljewelrylover]

Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: Citron Santa Monica Silk Burnout Floral Button Front Blouse Small.

[angelatsumu]

for firefighter!hq.... Iwaizumi Hajime?? 😳👉👈

hello! i apologize for the late response. I've been so burnout from working + paramedicine, but I am back!!

Firefighter!Iwaizumi is an engine boy at heart <3 he’s the prettiest when he’s pulling a 300ft 2in line, kneeling on it to get his respirator on <3 he’s grinning the entire time, boyish and happy to be fighting some roarin’ fire.

I would argue that engineboi!Iwaizumi’s strongsuit is just fast attack…like he’s just one of the fastest Charlie-seat riders to ever walk the earth. he’s like the flash when he shows up on a fire, immediately moving to pull his fire attack line to the door, flaking his line all pretty, then masking up before his officer completes the 360 walk around. he’s ready to make that push, get the knock, and ultimately come out with the biggest grin on his face. swoon

now, i firmly believe in the lost art of the charlie seat rider who isn't an engine operator, but unfortunately modern departments aren't quite like this. lucky for us, iwaizumi is a skilled man at many things, and being an engine operator--one pump chump as his crew calls him--is one of those skills.

picture this, iwaizumi hajime with his helmet strap hanging low, eyes focused on the levers in front of him as he shuffles about his engine, huffing and puffing and slinging lines about preparing to charge them for some action. he secretly loves a good car fire, deploying the bumper line like a pro.

engine boys are whores! mark my words. now, you lucked up getting iwaizumi into a monogamous relationship during his prime engineboi years. congrats, you hit the jackpot on this one.

because he doesn't have any technical specialty, I can see engineboy!Haji as a bit of a service!dom with no particular bondage or incorporation of his craft into the bedroom. that doesn't mean he's boring, by any means.

Engine boys have stamina and tact; they hit it hard from the yard. engine boys know how to hit that spot in a fire, and boy can Haji hit that spot for you <3

Iwaizumi eases his tiredness and aches from a long, hard-fought 72hr banger by bullying his hardened cock into your tight cunt, shuttering at the sheer feel of your slick encasing him. he's impatient with himself, something that started so sweet and gentle quickly became deep, tactful, and merciless thrusts against your velvety spot that had your toes curling, name falling off his tongue like a prayer.

if you've been particularly impatient with a rowdy little engine!Haji, expect to be teased and prodded for hours on end. he's at the end of the bed, your cunt at eye-level with his face as he watches your dainty fingers fail to reach the spots he knew he could in moments. he'd tried to warn you about your "smartass mouth", but you had insisted on saying he didn't truly love you if he kept picking up overtime. now, you lay in front of him with three fingers stuffed into your tight little hole, begging for any type of attention from your gorgeous man. his eyes are like little diamonds the way they glimmer and glisten at the sight before him. "please haji~" you whimper for the nth time, and he spits on your cunt before delivering a slap to your needy clit. "keep fuckin' going" he gruffs, a cheeky grin as his eyes float up to meet yours.

this is complete debauchery, and I am sorry.

[hantaslittlearsonist]

Iron Dagger on Silk Sheets

You're a hit-person for hire. You've been paid to kill the elf-prince. Unfortunately he's very pretty and you get distracted. 

Porn for the sake of porn really ;)

This took me ages to write so please enjoy ^-^

Warnings: Alternate Universe - Fantasy; Elf Prince!Cheslock; Hit-person!Y/N; gender neutral reader; same as Purple Burnout; no gendered words are used for Y/N; Shameless Smut; Enemies to Lovers; Knifeplay; Light Bondage (Ches pins Y/N down by the wrists); Fingering (Y/N receiving); Hickeys; Hair-pulling; Cheslock has a Daddy Kink; Cheslock has way too many piercings (Ear; tongue; nipple; belly-button; genital); since it's a fantasy AU Cheslock has storm powers (he's a storm elf); Erotic Electrostimulation because lightning ya kno; oral (both giving & receiving); Overstimulation; oh and attempted murder lol

5.8k

He was sleeping. Perfect. 

The moonlight shone silver through the gap in the heavy magenta curtains highlighting the rich mahogany wood of the bed he lay in. Your target. His long snowy hair was fanned out like a halo on the purple silk-covered pillows his head rested on. Only a glimpse of his black undercut was visible from the way he was positioned. His ears, long and pointed, confirmed his identity as they were bejewelled with glittering studs, chains and gems. Only Elven royalty were allowed to wear such jewellery. 

You sighed and turned to lean against the wall by his window, the person who had hired you really wanted him dead. Prince Cheslock of Eglarest Ithilien was your most famous target yet and thus your most expensive. You had answered the coded letter your employer had sent you with one of your own, detailing your price and insisting that you wanted to be paid 70% before you did the job. Once you had received your money you had started scouting. Looking for cracks in the castle security and learning the guard’s schedules. 

And now you were here, standing on Prince Cheslock’s balcony, your back against the wall and a dagger in your hand, basking in the moonlight. The sky was clear and the air warm, a crisp breeze blew your cape out to the side gently. You shook your head and let the wind push the hood that shrouded your face in shadow off. The city sprawled out below, mostly asleep though a few taverns remained open, their lights cutting sharply into the velvety darkness. What a beautiful night to commit high treason. 

Silent like the graves of your previous victims you slid your dagger between the vertical mullions of the Prince’s glass door, flicking your wrist to undo the latch that kept it closed. You froze as the two halves swung open with ease, too fast, anxious they might bang into something and wake your target. Nothing of the such happened, the doors trajectory was cushioned by the thick curtains that hung half-open in front of them.  Wondering why rich people didn’t let their windows and doors creak, just in case someone like you was… after them, as you padded into the room. You moved noiselessly to the side of his bed taking in the unusual smell of rain that hung in the air. 

Your form cast a shadow across his pillows as you stilled. Just to make sure it was him, you told yourself, you detailed him.  His hair shimmered, almost glowing, even without the moonlight to shine on it, long and smooth and light, the way the hair of royalty should be. Your fingers twitched around the hilt of your dagger, wanting to reach out and stroke it, wondering if it was as soft as it looked.  Your eyes shifted from the Prince’s hair to his forehead, youthful and unblemished by age though you knew he was over 100 years old. That was the thing with Elves, they aged slowly, only reaching true adulthood at 90.  Prince Cheslock’s long, graceful eyelashes cast a feathery shadow over his cheeks. It was a shame really, that you were about to slit his throat, the rumours were true, he was beautiful. You almost wanted to slip into the room next-door, where his older brother, Crown Prince Violet, slumbered to investigate the whispers about his inhuman perfection.  The slightly raised white scar that crossed his cheek only added to how stunning he was. You wondered how he had received it. Surely no Prince fought the way commoners had to. Right? 

You slid onto Prince Cheslock’s bed, the mattress depressing imperceptibly under your knee. You held your breath and in one move, you dropped your full weight against his body and pressed your dagger against his neck. It sparkled on his skin like the most expensive of necklaces.  He jolted awake, his surprised jump jostling you and almost making you lose your footing. His eyes were startling as they stared into yours in shock. Beautiful like the rest of him and glittering with intelligence. His irises were citrine peppered with gold flecks that drew you in, making you question why your employer wanted him killed. The prince’s eyes flashed with something incomprehensible and the crisp smell of rain intensified. If you weren’t certain he was mortal you would have bowed down to him as a god.  You shook your head to rid yourself of the thought, damn Elf magic. 

‘Any last words, my liege?’ A cruel smirk curled its way onto your lips as you pressed the sharp edge of your dagger against his skin. This was always your favourite part of your job, feeling your victims tremble under you. It gave you a sense of power nothing else ever could. Prince Cheslock’s eyes widened in what you were sure was fear. So sure. 

But then he smiled, cat-like. 

In a split second you were flipped on your back, your dagger was jerked out of your hand and suddenly you were on the other side of your weapon.  ‘How about… “Who sent you?”?’ Prince Cheslock’s tone was filled with reminders of his position, he pronounced his words perfectly, slowly, unafraid. His voice was sleep-addled, yes, but it was deep and caramel-soft. It made something in you melt, you blamed Elf magic again. Against your better judgement you answered the Prince’s question.  ‘I never know who my contractors are. Sorry, my liege.’ 

He pressed your dagger into your throat, threatening to cut. Your breath hitched and you tried to burrow into the bed to get away from it, your hands up by your head to try and seem less threatening.  ‘How do I find them, then?’ Prince Cheslock questioned.  ‘That, I can answer.’ Some sass had ebbed into your tone. ‘They sent coded letters to the spot everyone sends coded messages to and I picked them up. You could probably trace the line back to them.’ 

He huffed in annoyance. It seemed you had been too cryptic, on purpose, of course. ‘And I have to keep you alive so you can take me to “the spot everyone sends coded messages to”. Correct?’  ‘Correct.’ A small smile cracked your lips.  ‘Unfortunate.’ He said, irritated. Even with anger etched across his face the Elven Prince was still so handsome. His earrings caught the light as they hung from the cartilage of his ears, glittering in the moonlight and swaying slightly. His hair was swiped all to one side, over his shoulder. It shone in a strange silver-white curtain, blocking off your view of half the room. 

Something shifted. The crisp atmosphere started to turn slightly stuffy, filling with electric anticipation as he leaned in close. ‘I suppose you will have to stay here then.’ His breath fanned, hot, over your face. You shivered against his silk sheets.  ‘The door’s locked.’ He informed, dropping the overformality from his words.  ‘Why-’ You started, confused.  ‘I can see your blush, you know?’ Prince Cheslock teased.  ‘What? My liege, I don’t know what you’re talking about!’ You tried to deny, but you knew you were wrong. You could feel the blood rushing in your cheeks, heating up the skin.  ‘Don’t lie.’ He chuckled, leaning back and sitting over your waist so he could take weight off the arm that was supporting him above you, keeping the dagger against your skin. You flinched as he brought his now free hand to brush the outside of his ring and pinky finger over your cheek. ‘The proof is right here.’ 

You wondered why Prince Cheslock was being so gentle. You had tried to murder him minutes ago. He could easily hurt you and still “keep you alive” like he had said. So why..? 

‘I like your outfit.’ He commented out of the blue. You didn’t answer, too surprised to even react. ‘It looks comfy and practical, easy to move in. Am I right?’ He probed. ‘I- Yes. I suppose it is comfortable, my liege.’  ‘Drop the “my liege” will you? There’s no-one here to reprimand you for not being polite.’  ‘Yes, my-’ You cut yourself off before you repeated the word again.  ‘Good.’ He said, firm. The dagger was just held there now, no longer pressing into your skin. ‘What’s it made of?’  You blanched. ‘Come again?’  ‘Your outfit!’ He insisted.  ‘Oh. It’s a mix of black cotton and Fae silk.’ 

Prince Cheslock made a strange little noise of understanding. ‘The Fae silk, it makes it stretchy.’ He announced, sure of himself. He was right. You nodded.  His free hand, the one not holding the dagger, came to stroke along the hem of your tight tunic, right over the side of your rib-cage. Even though you were certain he was just inspecting the fabric, a curl of sticky arousal wrapped itself around your abdomen, making you pull your legs together and inhale shakily. 

‘You’re so-’ You started, the words tumbling out of your mouth before you could stop them. ‘Yes?’ the elf egged you on. You pressed your lips into a thin line so you wouldn’t say anything stupid or inapropriate to the man who’se life you had just threatened.  ‘So weird? Different from what you expected? Come on, out with it, little criminal.’ He prodded, his voice teasing, a smile tugging at his lips.  ‘Pretty.’ You breathed.  ‘Pretty?’ He repeated, a laugh in his voice.  ‘Yeah.’ 

Prince Cheslock leaned down, balancing his weight back onto his free arm. His face was an inch away from yours when he stopped, his head tilted to the side and his eyes twinkling with amusement.  ‘You’re pretty too, Y/N.’ You took in a sharp breath, surprise and arousal battling in your mind. How? How did he know your name? Had he known you were coming?  You started panicking, wriggling and trying to get out from under him, your heart racing. 

‘Hey, it’s okay, little criminal. I saw one of your wanted posters just yesterday in the next city. Seems you’ve been stealing jewellery. Haven’t you?’ His voice was soft and purposefully calm.  You relaxed a little. Wait- He had called you pretty? You looked around the dark room, to try and find the audience that was privy to Prince Cheslock’s joke but found only moonbeams and furniture. 

He watched the realisation that you were attracted to each-other dawn in your eyes with a half-smirk. You took a shaky breath, trying to force your brain to plan an escape but all it would focus on was the prince’s slightly parted chapped lips. 

You shouldn’t. 

You couldn’t.

Fuck it. You would. 

You leaned up, putting your weight on your elbows, until your lips were so close to Prince Cheslock’s that you could feel the warmth of his skin. ‘Kiss me?’ You whispered. 

There was a heartbeat where neither of you moved. His pupils expanded, hiding most of his citrine irises and then suddenly you were shoved against the cool silk sheets with his mouth on yours.  Your heart raced, no-longer from fear, his lips were unusually staticky as he kissed you, sending painless jolts of electricity through your skin. Though the elf still held your dagger against your neck you arched up into his warmth. You hummed quietly as he nibbled on your bottom lip, his hair tickling your ear. 

‘Please touch me.’ His voice was desperate as he pulled away barely long enough to speak. How could you refuse him, he was the prince after all.  One of your hands found purchase on his lithe waist, rinckling his grey satin tunic, the other crawled up his back to stroke at the nape of his neck. He moaned quietly against your lips as your fingertips ghosted up his spine to take purchase in his incredibly soft hair. 

Without breaking the kiss or dropping the dagger Prince Cheslock freed his legs from the plush duvet that was tangled around them. He ran his free hand up your shin, making you shiver and adding to the knot of arousal that was building in your core. Not giving it a second thought you let your legs fall open, making space for him. He rolled his silk-clad hips into yours with a muffled moan. You could feel the swell of his arousal against you, pressing into the apex of your thighs and making the last few sensible thoughts you had left burst into smoke.

The hand you had at his waist stroked over his abdomen, pushing his tunic up so you could feel his skin. It was deliciously smooth against your palm as you explored the light valleys his toned muscles created. Prince Cheslock dipped his head to the side and parted his lips to swipe his tongue against your lip as the pads of your fingers met metal. You sucked in a surprised breath at the realisation he had jewellery pierced through his belly button. He used your temporary distraction to lick into your mouth, pressing a warm metal ball against your tongue. 

Your brain wondered vaguely how many piercings the prince had as you stroked the tip of your tongue against the metal in his mouth. Your hand ventured down past his belly button, following his faint happy-trail to the hem of his trousers. His hips stuttered against your touch and he pulled back from your kiss, a line of spit connecting you for a few seconds before it broke and dripped onto your chin. Without thinking, you licked it off. 

Prince Cheslock gathered your hands with his dagger-free hand and, holding your wrists in his long fingers, pressed them into the pillows above your head.  ‘Can’t have you touching me there, little criminal.’ He said, his voice breathy. ‘I don’t want to cum just yet.’ 

He kissed you again, his lips more bruising than before. If your previous kisses had been leisurely, kissing for the sake of kissing, this was kissing with a purpose. It felt like he was trying to mould your lips to his, so you could never kiss anyone else without wishing it had been him. Your arms twitched, wanting to wrap around him and tug at his hair but he pressed down against your wrists so you couldn’t wriggle free. 

He dragged the dagger down your neck and over your collarbone. You were torn between trying to get away, knowing how sharp it was, and angling your head so the blade had more access. 

‘I have clothes you can wear. I’m going to cut yours off.’ He informed.  Your stomach twisted in anticipation as he brought the blade under the collar of your tunic. You really should have thought about the consequences of leaving the castle in the youngest prince’s clothes but at the time you couldn’t have cared less. The idea of letting Prince Cheslock rip the fabric you were wearing was just too enticing. 

The cotton and silk mix stretched at first as he pulled the dagger towards him. Then with a ripping noise it fell away and he sliced through the rest of the tunic, all the way down to the bottom. The blade finished its trip just above the cincture of your tight pants. 

As he cut through your waistband he tugged against the fabric and in turn it added pressure to your core. A moan was forced out of your mouth as he went to kiss you again.  ‘Hmh- Prince Cheslock-’  The elf stayed half an inch away, teasing.  ‘Drop the formalities, little criminal. I won’t add it to your record.’  You didn’t answer, simply arching up into him, trying to connect your lips as he tore your dagger through the fabric of your pants. He leaned back with a smirk, just enough to stop you from kissing him.  ‘You can kiss me when you call me Ches.’ He paused, glowing eyes watching you consider whether it was a good idea to indulge him. ‘Or Daddy. That works too.’ 

You almost laughed at the prince’s strange request but the coil of arousal in your abdomen tightened when the title left his lips. He had said it so casually yet you could hear a demand laced in his low voice.  He guided one of your legs to fold up towards his blade as he sliced the fabric, leaving you with only one pant-leg left, otherwise completely exposed. Prince- No. Ches. Ches tossed the dagger down on the pillow near your head, it made a muffled thump as it landed and tightened his fingers around your wrists.  ‘Say it.’ He insisted, his eyes shining pleadingly. 

‘Ches…’ You whispered.  ‘No.’  You swallowed your pride.  ‘Daddy.’ The word rolled off your tongue almost like a prayer. Like a wish. Ches’s eyes sparked with an electric desire as he smashed his lips into yours. The hand not wrapped around your wrists coming to grip the now bare skin of your waist, his blunt but pointed nails digging into your skin almost painfully. 

As Ches’s hand explored your skin the smell of rain became more obvious and you came to the realisation it was coming from him. His mouth left yours and strayed down your neck, leaving stinging kisses on your skin.  Your lips free, you managed to whisper;  ‘You’re a Storm Elf.’  Ches chuckled, the vibrations of his laugh against your throat making your eyes flutter.  ‘What gave me away? The hair, the eyes or the grey-tipped nails?’ He dug his sharp teeth into the crook of your neck, sucking hard. 

‘The smell. You smell like thunder and rain.’ You gasped, your voice cracking.  Ches hummed against your skin.  ‘I suppose it does make it obvious. But…’ He trailed off seemingly concentrating.  The air buzzed with static and suddenly an arch of electricity connected his hands, shocking into your skin in lightning-like patterns. It didn’t hurt, per-say. The electricity stung, yes, but in a way that made you arch into it more, rather than try to get away. ‘This. Is the biggest giveaway.’ 

You lay in stunned arousal for a few seconds, long enough to make Ches second-guess himself.  ‘You didn’t like that did you? Sorry.’ He hurried to apologise. ‘No. I didn’t like it.’ You smiled, teasing. It wasn’t every day you would see a prince being insecure. ‘I loved it. Do it again. Please… Daddy.’ You moaned and leaned up to connect your lips with his, licking into his mouth in search of his piercing. 

His lungs swelled with a proud breath. Ches brought his free hand up to run his charged fingers over your chest. You twitched with the stinging pleasure the sharp zaps of electricity forced through your skin. He pulled away from the kiss to watch as he ghosted his thumb over your nipple, you looked too. Small arches of blue-white lightning connected his digit and your skin prettily. 

‘Wow.’ You breathed. Ches grinned and added power to one final zap, making you jerk and moan before training his hand down between your legs.  He hovered his fingers over your underwear and locked his citrine eyes with yours.  ‘Can I?’ He checked. You nodded immediately, wanting nothing more.

Ches’s fingertips pressed into you just right through your underwear. The fabric pushed against your sensitive spots forcing all the air out of your lungs at once in a drawn out whimper. You couldn’t help but roll your hips into his hand, chasing the pleasure of his touch. His fingers flickered with electricity again and it arched straight through your nerves making your body try to jerk away but his hand was firm against you and it followed as you squirmed and moaned.  A few more of those and I’ll be cumming on the spot. You thought, your mind almost blank with desire.

You struggled against the hand pinning your wrists down, wanting to touch him. He gave a mean grin and pressed your hands further into the pillow before kissing you bruisingly. He slid his tongue between your lips, pressing the ball of his piercing against the inside of your mouth languidly. You gave a muffled moan and he pulled back. 

‘You want something, little criminal?’  ‘Please…’ You begged, ‘Let me touch you.’ ‘Like you won’t take the opportunity to stab me.’ He smirked. ‘I won’t! I swear!’ Your voice cracked as you pulled desperately at his hold on your wrists.  Ches sighed. ‘Fine. But only one hand.’ He freed your right hand, the one the furthest from the dagger that still lay on his pillow, and threaded his fingers through those of your left, pressing it into the silk below. 

Your now free hand grabbed the front of his tunic and pulled him down for another kiss as you rolled your hips into his palm, getting close. Static buzzed around you again as Ches charged his fingers. The zap was enough to hurtle you off the edge. Your body tensed for a second and suddenly you were chanting “Daddy” into the prince’s mouth.  ‘There you go…’ Ches praised. You’re so good for me aren’t you?’ 

You didn’t answer the question as you panted, your hand tangled in his hair at the nape of his neck tugging to expose his neck. There was a red line where you had pressed the dagger, you licked it apologetically. He tasted like metal and petrichor and whatever expensive soap he used. He hummed at the feeling of your tongue against his skin.  ‘You can mark me, if you want. Just not anywhere obvious.’ He murmured as you dragged your lips down the column of his neck. 

An idea formed in your head. You used your left foot to push against the sheets and leverage yourself on top of Ches. He looked so beautiful under you. His tunic was pushed up around his rib-cage, exposing his silver belly-button piercing, a pretty green stone glittered where it was set into the ball of the piercing. You kept your fingers interlocked with his as you shuffled down so you were sitting between his shins. 

Keeping eye-contact you leaned down, your bottom lip trapped between your teeth as you shot him a teasing smile. As your mouth approached the expanse of skin just under Ches’s belly-button your lips parted so your tongue could precede them. He shuddered as you made contact, licking slowly up his faint happy-trail. You latched your lips onto his skin, just to the side of his piercing and sucked. By the time you were done Ches was squirming, his fingers tugging at your hair and breathy little whimpers leaving his mouth. 

‘Is that hidden enough?’ You drawled, breath fanning over his skin and making him shiver.  ‘Yeah.’ He breathed, using his purchase in your hair to make you come up to kiss him.  You straddled his hips and pushed down a little, pressing your ass into his arousal. Ches let out a sweet “ah” and his hips jerked up to meet yours, the fabric of his pyjamas silky-soft on your skin.  You rolled your pelvis slowly against his, teasing as you kissed. 

The elf seemed to get tired of you tormenting him after a little bit and flipped you onto your back again, his hips nestled between your thighs.  ‘You really want this?’ He murmured against your collarbone.  ‘Yes.’ You breathed. ‘Please.’ 

Ches sat up with a smirk letting go of your hand so he could push your thighs further apart. He slid down, kissing your skin as he went, the silk sheets made a waterfall-esque noise as he moved. He pressed a teasing open-mouthed kiss just above the band of your underwear. You squirmed, trying to get him to touch lower. He grinned up at you, wrapped his long fingers around your hips and pressed you further into the mattress. A silent order to not move.  The prince tugged at your underwear and you lifted your ass so he could pull it off. Once it was free of your legs he dropped it off the side of the bed. 

‘Try not to be too loud, yeah? We don’t want my brother to wake up and alert the guards.’ Ches requested, his voice deep with arousal. You nodded in reply and threaded your fingers through his silky hair as he brought his head to the apex of your thighs.  He licked a strip up your inner thigh leaving a chilled sensation in his wake. You pulled on his hair, trying to make him touch you where you needed him. He gave in and pressed the ball of his tongue piercing into your sensitive spot. Your back arched at the sharp pleasure, sliding easily against the silky sheets. 

Ches pulled away for a second to spit on two of his fingers then smoothed them against your hole. The pressure was nice, but not enough, you rolled your hips, trying to get him to push inside. The elf chuckled lowly and finally slipped his fingers past your entrance. You moaned at the burning pressure, locking eyes with him.  His irises glinted and grinning he shot an arch of electricity through the digits inside you. You threw your head back against the prince’s plush pillows from the mush of pleasure and pain coursing through you like lightning. Ches sucked at your sensitive spot, curling his fingers and making the knot in your abdomen tighten. You tugged at his hair almost in an attempt to pull him away. You were going to cum again and fast. 

Ches moaned, the vibrations of his voice making your legs twitch. You thought it was from your hold on his hair but then noticed that his hips were humping into the mattress. You shot towards your high as the elf curled his fingers aiming electricity purposefully at the spot that had you seeing stars.  Your hole fluttered around his digits as you balanced on the edge of release. His lips pulled into a smirk against your skin before they gave a hard suck, forcing you to cum. One of your hands slapped against your mouth to muffle the moans of “Daddy” that you couldn’t help from tumbling from your lips. He lapped up your release with a happy hum, still pressing the pads of his fingers into your walls. You whimpered and tugged his hair so he would stop. But he kept licking you through pleasure and straight into overstimulation. 

‘Hah- Ches~ Too much!’ You whined. Finally he pulled away, his lips glistening with your release.  ‘You okay, little criminal?’ He leaned over you with a smile, his hands pressed into the mattress by your hips.  You took a deep breath in an attempt to stop panting. ‘Yeah.’ You used your purchase in his hair to reel him in for a kiss. You could taste yourself on his lips and feel his satisfied smile.  ‘I almost came in my pants.’ His voice was high with amusement and surprise. ‘Wanna keep going?’ He murmured against the corner of your mouth.  ‘Yeah.’ You gave a nod and kissed his jaw before he sat back on his heels. 

Ches made you lift your hips so he could stuff a plush pillow under your ass. The dagger that had been resting on it slid off the side of the bed and landed against the rich carpet with a muffled thud. The prince’s earrings glittered in his ears as he pulled his pyjamas off. You let your eyes roam his smooth skin taking a sharp breath when you caught sight of the metal pierced through not only his belly-button but his nipples and his cock.  He caught you staring. 

‘I have 23 in total.’ Ches said, running the tip of his finger over the jewellery in his dick. The hoop at his tip was decorated with what you were almost certain was a tiny ruby set into the ball. You almost wanted to steal it. It would fetch astronomically high prices, especially considering where it had come from. The elf had three parallel bars through the skin in the middle of his shaft; they looked like the rungs of a silver ladder as they glinted in the moonlight.  You reached out and wrapped your fingers around the prince’s bejewelled cock. Ches sighed out a sweet “ah” at the contact. For some reason you had expected the piercings to be cold but they were just as warm as the rest of him. 

Wrapping your legs around his waist you guided his tip to your hole. His hand replaced yours and he tapped his piercing against your skin before pressing it inside. The stretch burned so much you winced. Ches leaned down to kiss along your collarbone, sinking his cock until his thighs were flush against your ass.  ‘Tell me when to move.’ He whispered, his breath warm against your throat. 

It took you a few minutes of Ches kissing your neck for you to get used to the feeling of him inside of you. Once you were you started whining quietly and trying to press his cock deeper. He caught on and started gently rolling his hips into yours. Sparks of pleasure shot up your spine with each thrust. You weren’t sure if he was using his electricity or not at this point but you really didn’t care. It just felt so good. 

‘More-’  ‘Yeah?’ Ches’s voice was teasing and held an undertone of pride as he adjusted his thrusts to be a bit harder. They jostled you up the slippery sheets, almost making you hit your head against the carved hardwood bedstead. Lightning arched between his hands where he held your hips steady. You wanted to watch but every thrust was forcing your eyes to roll back. 

The prince pulled your legs up over his shoulder and let go of your hips so he could lean over your body effectively folding you in half. From this angle the piercing at his tip hit your soft spot straight on.  In an attempt to muffle the lewd noises that were leaving your lips without your permission you bit into the flesh of your hand. Ches made you stop almost instantly. He kissed you, his tongue stroking gently against yours in a stark contrast to how hard he was thrusting into you. Regretfully you broke the kiss so you could pant for air. 

A sudden zap of energy coursed inside you, forcing all your muscles to tense. Your hole clenched around Ches’s dick and he let out a sweet broken moan that really didn’t help. How were you already this close again? A nimble lightning-covered hand came to stroke at your core. Your body arched up into Ches’s, pressing your chest into his in a way where you could feel his nipple piercings. That was all it took. 

You came with a drawn out moan, spasming around the prince’s dick. Hyper-aware of the piercing at his tip that was pressed into your sweet spot. He kept thrusting slowly, helping you ride out your high as you panted and squirmed under him. After a few thrusts the pleasure coursing through you became too much. Your core ached from the overstimulating friction of Ches’s cock. With guilt tangled in the curls of pleasure still messy in your brain you grasped the prince’s shoulders. 

‘Ches- Hurts.’ You whimpered.  ‘Sorry..’ His voice was breathy as he pulled out.  You felt bad about leaving him without making him orgasm.  ‘Can I- Can I give you head?’ You struggled.  Ches shook his head, his sleek hair catching the moonlight. ‘You don’t have to. I’m a big boy, I can take care of myself.’  ‘I want to.’ You defended. He gave a soft smile and let you guide him to lie on his back. 

You slid down the bed to position yourself in a mirror to what he had done earlier. Sitting between his calves you took a second to admire him. The elven prince's hair fanned out on the pillows his head was propped up on making it look like he had a halo. His hands were up by the sides of his head, palms up. It would be so easy to reach for your dagger. So easy. But you didn’t. Instead you admired his soft, milky skin glittering with piercings and covered in a thin sheen of sweat.

You took Ches’s dick in your hands. One gripping the bottom of the shaft and one coming to rub over his tip. He hummed a high little moan when you pressed your thumb nail gently into his slit.  ‘So pretty.’ He almost missed your whispered praise. His cock twitched in your hands.  You leaned down and licked the prince’s inner thigh making him shudder. One of his hands found your hair and tugged it so you would lick him where you needed. 

You took his dick into your mouth, tasting the salty sourness of his pre on your tongue. You licked the piercing at his tip and his hand tightened in your hair. Smiling as best you could with a cock in your mouth you sank your head down until his head bit into the back of your pallet. Ches’s back arched and he pressed down on your head, trying to force you down further. You let him thrust up with a sweet moan. His other hand came to join his first, fingers tangling in your hair and pulling almost painfully. The elven prince’s high-pitched whines filled the room as he essentially fucked your face. His fingers sparked with electricity shooting numb pain down your spine.

His cock kicked against the back of your throat. He let out a broken moan, his fingers tightening in your hair and suddenly your mouth was filled with a warm sticky tangy liquid.  ‘Don’t- Don’t swallow!’ Ches pleaded, pulling your mouth away from his dick. You did as he asked and he sat up, drawing your lips to his parted ones. He licked into your mouth, his pierced tongue searching out the flavour of his release. You snowballed with him until some dripped down your chin and onto his stomach. He gave a saccharine smile as he swallowed the mix of saliva and cum.  ‘Thank you, Y/N.’ He whispered as he brought his mouth to yours again, pressing a sweet kiss against your lips. 

The prince lay back down into his silk sheets, a pretty peach-ish glow decorating his skin. He reached out a hand to invite you to lay with him. You hesitated, tomorrow would be messy if you didn’t leave before the sun came up.  Seeing your reluctance, Ches's face morphed into a child-like pout. You gave in, flopping against the mattress and he grinned. You didn’t dare think about the morning as you drifted off, wrapped in soft satin and warm arms, the pads of your fingers mindlessly playing with the piercings in the elf prince’s ear. The moon was forgiving of what you had just done but you doubted the sun would be.

[onceuponamirror]

ghosts

Faintly, Nancy can hear the waves crashing into the shoreline down the road. A buoy rings against the water. She takes a breath. “So…you don’t regret not leaving?”

“Do you?” He counters, as if knowing she wasn’t just talking about him anymore.

[set between 2x05-2x06] [read on ao3!]

“What’re you thinking about?”

Nancy turns to look over her shoulder, surprised to see Ace standing there, hands in the pockets of his puffer. He has a smile emerging from the corner of his mouth, which broadens slightly after a moment. “You look super serious. Am I interrupting something heavy?”

“What? No,” she says, clearing her thoughts, and echoes his grin. “I just thinking about…ghosts.”

“Ghosts,” Ace repeats, and drops into the seat beside her. She’s sitting on the table, whereas he’s planted on the bench, and yet they’re still at eye-level.

She blows out a breath and shakes her head slightly. “Yeah, ghosts. With everything happening so fast last month, I feel like…I didn’t fully process…” She pauses, and waves her hands for exaggeration, “Ghosts. They’re real.”

He furrows his brow, as if waiting for her to continue, or to finish her thought.

Nancy falls back on her palms, glancing up briefly at the darkened sky. “It’s just—I’m supposed to be this…Hero of Horseshoe Bay, or whatever they want to call me in the papers. I don’t really care about that but—solving mysteries is the only thing I’ve been good at, and…”

Ace passes her a slightly mischievous smile. “Is this about me coming for your title? I’m a ‘Hero’ too.”

She rolls her eyes and bumps his shoulder with her own. “No, it’s…I make logical leaps. That’s all it is. How can you make logical leaps with supernatural stuff?”

“Ah,” Ace says.

“If ghosts are real, what else is? And what won’t I be able to solve because I didn’t think to consider…Bigfoot, or something? I don’t know if I’ll be any good at this when the rules of physics don’t apply.”

“Nancy,” Ace says slowly, “all due respect, but that’s super dumb. You’ve already solved like, three ghosts mysteries by now.” She opens her mouth with mock offense, but he just grins at her, and she’s unable to stop herself from matching it again. “You’re good at this. Dead or undead. Besides—people always say stuff about physics as if it just relates to gravity. It’s a lot more flexible than that.”

She cocks her neck. “What do you mean?”

Ace shrugs. “Like, I went down a Wikipedia rabbit hole one night. A lot of physics is about theorizing about other dimensions and energy, and matter. Like—there’s that rule, that matter can neither be created nor destroyed. I think it’s mostly about decay or whatever, like how when we die we go back to the ground, but maybe there’s another part, like with our soul, that sticks around. Who’s to say that doesn’t encompass ghosts?”

Nancy just stares at him, dumbfounded. When she first met Ace, he’d struck her as a quiet slacker; another fellow high school burnout. It’s almost upsetting how much she’d misjudged him. “How the hell do you know that?”

As if slightly embarrassed, Ace ducks his face down, but she can still see his smile. He shrugs again. “Like I said, I love a good Wikipedia black hole. Which, coincidentally, has a great article on black holes.” They meet each other’s eyes, and Nancy feels something sputter against her chest, suddenly deeply aware of their proximity. She wonders if he feels it too, because he clears his throat. “Anyway, I don’t sleep super well. So it gives me a lot of time to collect increasingly random knowledge.” He taps his temple. “It’s a steel trap of trivia.”

She raises her eyebrows, still taking him in. He never seems to stop surprising her. “How did we not know each other in high school? You would’ve been super helpful on some of my earlier cases, you know.”

“I thought you worked alone then,” he says, somewhat teasingly, but like he’s avoiding her question. After a moment, he sighs. “I knew you, you just didn’t know me. We actually had art together, I think.”

“No way,” she says at once, before she can think on it. “I would’ve noticed you.”

It’s his turn for his eyebrows to jump on his forehead. Her neck flushes hotly, but mercifully, he looks away from her. “Nah. I was barely there. I was kind of a big stoner in high school.”

“I’m shocked,” she says dully, and he laughs. At the sound, her chest tightens again.

“I know. It really plays against type,” he counters, smirking.

She laughs, and a silence falls over them gently. She’s still surprised they had a class together and she didn’t even know him—even if they didn’t run in the same circles, he was still Ace. If she wracks her brain, she has a vague memory of a skinny kid in a backwards baseball cap and an oversized plaid shirt, but it’s hard to reckon that with the long-haired, soft-eyed, much more muscled boy who sits beside her.

When her thoughts finally return to the present, she finds him watching her. She turns slowly to face him, breath catching against her chest. Her eyes dart down to his mouth, and he does the same. Anxiously, she pushes her hair behind her ears, unwilling to let this moment last. This is Ace. Get it together.

“What?” He asks, his tone something low and velvety.

She laces her fingers together and tips her chin up, wistfully watching a faint star. “What are you still doing here?” She asks, and he meets her eye again, confused this time. “I mean, you’re smart. You never wanted to get out of Horseshoe Bay? Go to college?”

Ace leans back on his elbows. “Nah,” he says, but something in his voice betrays his attempt at casualness. “I didn’t have the grades, even if I wanted to.” Nancy purses her lips, not sure she believes him. He shifts uncomfortably, like he can tell. “Pothead,” he adds, impishly. “I took a couple of classes at the community college, but…I dunno, I got bored. I’ve had pretty much every job in town, at this point. Never really held anything down, ‘til now.”

“Yeah?” She asks, breathily.

“Worked on a lobster fishing boat for a summer. That was really hard,” he supplies, and Nancy wonders if that was the cause of his transformation from skinny kid in art class to the surprisingly toned boy beside her. “Worked at the video store, until they went out of business. Worked at the library for a bit. That didn’t work out, for obvious reasons.”

“Obviously,” she echoes, grinning at him. He rolls his eyes playfully.

“Last year I even worked at the yacht club,” he adds, glancing away from her. “That’s where I met Laura Tandy.”

At the mention of his ex, Nancy straightens. She tries not to put too much thought into the strange reaction her body has, deciding instead to dig at the larger thought that still nags. “Do you ever wish you’d gone with her? To Paris, I mean. Had adventures…left Maine?”

“Nance, I’m pretty sure adventure isn’t geography-specific at this point,” he sighs, throwing her a knowing look. There’s a slight thrill at him calling her ‘Nance’, and she tries to push it down. “But no,” he sighs. “My dad…I still think he needs me. He keeps trying to go back to work, as if he doesn’t remember why he left in the first place. Someone has to remind him.”

A soft hum escapes from the back of her throat. Privately, she thinks there’s something loaded there, something buried. A lie to himself, maybe. From her observation, Ace and his father are very much alike, but she doesn’t think he’d want to hear that.

Faintly, Nancy can hear the waves crashing into the shoreline down the road. A buoy rings against the water. She takes a breath. “So…you don’t regret not leaving?”

“Do you?” He counters, as if knowing she wasn’t just talking about him anymore. She levels him with a warning look, but he doesn’t back down, just piques an eyebrow.

“I don’t know,” she says, honestly. “Right now, no.” She bumps him with her shoulder again. “Look at us. A couple of townie burnouts.”

He grins. “Somebody’s gotta do it.”

Another blanket of silence settles between them, but gentle this time. Again, the waves lap against the shore.

“I still can’t believe I didn’t know you,” she says quietly, perhaps not meaning to say it aloud. Somewhere along the way, he became such a fixture. But she supposes that goes for all of her friends—she was so different in high school. She’s not sure she’s someone she would’ve liked now. She realizes Ace is looking at her again. “I just mean, it’s such a small town. Like, I don’t even know your last name,” she adds.

He still hasn’t budged, soft smile and all. “Oh, it’s—”

“Yo! Lazy Drew! Are we gonna Boggle or what?” George’s voice floats across The Claw’s back deck, and they both turn around to see her at the back exit, her hands on her hips, lit warmly from behind. “Ace, you said you were gonna go get her and come right back.”

“My bad,” he says, getting to his feet. He offers her his hand down, even though it’s barely a jump to the ground. She takes it anyway, but it hits her with a shock of static so strong that she drops it like a hot potato. His eyes are anywhere but on her.

“Game night waits for no man,” George says drolly, holding the door open for them.

“Fine, fine,” she mutters, passing through the doorway. She spins around and points at George. “Tonight, we Boggle, but tomorrow—trivia night. Teams.”

“I’m game,” Ace pips up, as George only rolls her eyes and nods as she struts past them, towards the booth where Bess and Nick wait.

“Tomorrow, you’re on my team, Mr. Steel Trap,” Nancy whispers to him, leaning in conspiratorially. His body heat warms against her skin, even through her light sweater.

His smile is soft. “Any time.”

[cupsofsuga]

Hello! This is the anon from before (the dolt who sent in a request not knowing they were closed), if it's okay, can I please ask the yanderes when or what moment did they know that YN was destined to be with them? Or rather, when did they fall obsessively in love with them?

send me an ask! - X

gif creds - X

thank you for sending me an ask, wildflower!

𝐊𝐈𝐌 𝐒𝐄𝐎𝐊𝐉𝐈𝐍

━━━ Just shy of 15! As the horrors of high school advanced in ridden leaves and hot apple cider, Jin found himself longing for a lost lover. His sublime-drowned blossom; his honey-infused summer. Y/N L/N, the beauty whose face adorned every love song to cease to exist. You had drifted apart from the beginning of middle school and had left Jin to long for infinity and your breathless romance. God, he just misses you so much. So much, he has truly forgotten what it means to feel anything. He can't pray violence on those who stole you away, he can't beg to the stars for his flowerchild to return home. He must sit and welter within this eternal, empty ache. And as the school bell sings its song, he feels it. There you were, blowing bubblegum with your California heart, just on the corner of the sidewalk. There you were, so feverish and real. Therein, Jin feels his heart bloom under the early September sky. With you, he can finally feel.

❝ Jesus, what are you doing to me? It’s like you’re in my veins and I can’t escape you! ❞

𝐌𝐈𝐍 𝐘𝐎𝐎𝐍𝐆𝐈

━━━ At the café! Vulgar poison stains Yoongi's throat as hours pass by like Autumn winds. There are no words to explain this loneliness— dependent like bloodstains and velvet silence, but before the silence of eternal nights swallows him whole, you in your pink moonlight, effervescent glow catch the young boy off guard. Yoongi chokes on his cherry bubblegum, feeling his heart elate with the blood of June. He is flustered, fascinated, in every means enthralled with a single stranger. Yoongi couldn’t put his finger on what was just so… captivating about you. Eye-to-eye contact is ethereal enough, but he pleads for these neon feelings to be mutual. He wants to reciprocate all the delight, euphoria, and sunlight you have so generously gifted him. Whether that’s by slaughtering this planet till we are nothing but dust or littering his studio apartment with crumbled sheets of failed poetry, he’ll do it in a heartbeat. Yoongi would do anything and everything for you.

❝ Oh, my Y/N, I swear… If stars could speak, you’re name would be whispered throughout this entire galaxy… ❞

𝐉𝐔𝐍𝐆 𝐇𝐎𝐒𝐄𝐎𝐊

━━━ Walking home from school! As the boy jumps into rain puddles with his damp, yellow converse, an alleyway stripped on sunlight stands before him. Hoseok then ventures into the darkness, right before the finding you, a black sheep who laughs in amusement at his fear. Now, he had presumed you to steal his lunch money or force him to do your homework, just like the rest of the junkies, but he had been greatly mistaken. You offer him a seat, as well as a swig of the cheap whiskey you kept at your knee. With that smile— oh, that laughter. Hoseok had found warmth in the silver-stained, cold moon. You, the blossoming of delicate lilies, robbed him of his heart with that sultry smile and rough voice. He is stunned into adoring silence, for there is no way someone this beautiful is talking to him, let alone acknowledging his existence. Life is no longer saturated and instead filled to a brim with hallucinations and nymphs. Life is now bold.

❝ You’re so… pretty… Gosh, I really want to kiss those bruises all over your knuckles. ❞

𝐊𝐈𝐌 𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐉𝐎𝐎𝐍

━━━ In the library! Namjoon visited the estate frequently in hopes of catching sight of the purple swan who somehow possessed the strength to soothe the cracks and clots of sorrow that bathe within his heart. There was always that alluring essence you possessed, but god, finally talking to you? It’s like lullabies against whispered starlight; melodies of unspoken folklore in the light of Summer. Oh, it is everything to drown in you. This dull life Namjoon has endured has finally been given light. And this man is willing to bleed himself dry if it means keeping the loss of twilight within his possession. He longs to be the one that can see the roots of your smile, to taste the tears of your eyes in July, to find just how far the depths of your soul may reach. It is endless, this battering heart of his. As you speak words of petals and angel’s feathers, his heart faints for what seems like the millionth time since he had first laid eyes on you. You have gifted him berries in winter’s embrace, gifted him meaning in a sea of soul’s dust. At last, you have given Namjoon life.

❝ I am still stunned into silence by just how special you truly are… How do you do it? Be so incredibly beautiful in a world like this? ❞

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐊 𝐉𝐈𝐌𝐈𝐍

━━━ At his father’s meeting! You sparked up a conversation, complimenting Jimin on his judgment of books with daylight within your irises. Just with that small act of kindness, so much joy grows within him at once, he fears his bones may shatter under the weight of it all. He has found an enchanted garden as he gets drunk off the hazy pink skies and nymph’s songs. He tastes cotton candy within your expression, manifested cupid’s kiss within the depths of your soul. Jimin has found the pure heart of an angel within you, a single stranger whose fate has been declared by a single compliment. From staying up till 4AM crafting a scrapbook littered with polaroids, loving messages to his lover and souvenirs from previous dates moments (including a single strand of your hair he found on his shoulder once) to redoing a batch of brownies 13 times in a single day all because you said they were your favorite, this boy is desperate to feel his heart elate when you speak your honeyed validation. Jimin loves you and that shall be the end of it.

❝ My sugarplum, your voice itself could make flowers grow! It certainly makes my heart grow, heh! ❞

𝐊𝐈𝐌 𝐓𝐀𝐄𝐇𝐘𝐔𝐍𝐆

━━━ The night of the theatre play! Taehyung gazes into your eyes for the sum of the movie and perceives himself enchanted with the war zone of your mind. How you tilt your head like a puppy when you're pondering over a scene or how your lip gently curls when a specific line or shot grips your liking. Oh, you are heaven beneath the mystic moon! As the evening drenched in honey nectar comes to an end, Taehyung trails after you back to your estate. And this was merely a pinprick of the blooming that will occur after. Little did he know of just how sweet this grey life can blossom into. An infatuation, like the first sunrise in the meadow after a heavy winter, flutters through his ribcage. Taehyung is willing to mold and shape himself to become the perfect boyfriend for someone as captivating as you. This may sound generic as every cliche fairytale you’d find etched into golden pages, but every time he looks at you, it’s just - fuck - he can’t imagine living a single second without you. You are addictive and Taehyung cannot seem to let you go.

❝ If someday the moon calls you by your name, don’t be surprised, because every night I talk to her about you. ❞

𝐉𝐄𝐎𝐍 𝐉𝐔𝐍𝐆𝐊𝐎𝐎𝐊

━━━ Town’s sweetheart meets the burnout! It was only supposed to be some stupid school-project, not a star-stained stroll through the ethereal trails of Versailles. You were only supposed to be a fleeting stranger, not a reminiscence of a summer morning’s moonflower in its complete bloom. But, you’re just so warm. Those would be a fool not to fall for such a seraphic soul like yours. The personification of sunshine, the manifestation of Venus. Oh, you are such a dream! This idea plagues Jungkook’s mind with paradisiacal intentions through the depths of midnight. He dreams of the melody of birds and the velvety sound of your voice as he rocks himself into an empty slumber, ignoring the burden of his father and the rodents at school. Although the revelation that he’d wake up alone in his cold sheets lingers within the back of his mind, the idea of awakening to your illuminating face melts any form of negativity. Such a fate engrossed with charm and an angel’s battering heartbeat to wake up with you every morning. Oh, one day. Maybe one day…

❝ I don’t care who calls me greedy, I am a selfish lover. I want you all to myself. Mine, mine, mine! Mine only… ❞

[peach-cloudz]

Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: Free People Velvety Burnout Floral Skater Dress.