#golden laced polish

[epipremnum-aureum]

if you aren't welcomed home by the discordant screams of a pom-pom headed chicken named Muffin, then what kind of life are you living???

[psikonauti]

Beth Moon (American, b. 1955)

Golden Laced Polish, c. 2018

[lokisgoodgirl]

A Prince's Release [Asgard!Loki x Reader]

A link to my Masterlist is HERE Summary: Loki takes a break from a diplomatic feast, and finds he is not alone in the hallways of Asgard. (w/c 1.9k) Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI. Smut. Oral. Loki POV. Soft dom.

Loki’s footsteps echoed away from the buzz of the feast. And as their raucous mirth grew quieter, so did his mind.

He glanced out the arched window to the side, noting the glitter of Asgard below. He had not been released from his diplomatic obligations entirely. Not officially. Not yet. But he needed this.

He dissolved the ceremonial armour adorning his shoulders, his forearms. It’s gold faded, revealing the simple earthen green of the leathers beneath. Hair that had lain nestled beneath his helmet fell free against his collar. Suddenly, a fist gathered the rear of his tunic. He adopted a battle stance without thinking, spinning with malice in his eyes. His features softened; resolve softening as his dagger hovered beneath the tip of your chin. “My Lady, you should be more careful.” he murmured darkly, running the flat of the thin blade to meet your parted lips. You kissed it.

Several guards lining the open arches sank into shadow.

Loki felt the sharp thud of polished marble flat on his back as you pushed him to the wall, the biting cool it surely held almost chilling through his leathers. You had manoeuvred him to the inside of one of the archway columns. Concealed, almost.

Audacious, this one; he mused. His mind was fire, the heavy dullness chess of diplomatic politics replaced by a haze of lust.

The leather tunic squeaked, sliding against the marble surface as you swept your tongue deeper inside his mouth like a demon. He felt your familiar digits combing through his hair. Pulling. Searching. Claiming, he thought, sliding a moist palm around the nape of your neck.

Loki liked that. He tugged the back of your evening dress sharply, pulling you away. With an inquiring smirk, he tilted his head. “What has gotten into you, little thing? To accost a Prince of Asgard so..." he tutted playfully. Loki gleefully watched as heat rose in your skin. He could feel it; warming the cool night air.

“You, obviously” you huffed, feigned annoyance losing its effect as your grappling fingers tugged at the laces of his trousers. “My prince,” you added as an after-thought.

The palace had ears everywhere. “I think not,” Loki smiled as he let his knuckles trail over your shoulder, down your bare bicep. “It has been ten long days since I’ve gotten into you. My father has seen to that.” The roll of your eyes made his stomach flip. Oh, how he loved this. How he had missed it.

He turned the smile flexing against his lips into a bite. “Loki,” you whimpered petulantly, sliding your hand down the crotch of his leathers as you tried in vain to launch at his mouth. He held you back with ease, your beautiful brow scrunched. “You have not answered my letters, your servants turn me away...they say you are entertaining the diplomats every night,”

The game, Loki smirked with deep satisfaction, is afoot. “Uh-uh-uh,” he tutted, making sure his lips stayed open. He narrowed his eyes, teasing you. His tongue rested on the ridge of his mouth, noting every microscopic shiver of arousal course across your skin.

“Show me how much you missed me during my diplomatic conclave. Missed him.” He nodded down to the weighty arousal hardening in your covert hand. “What?” you gasped, glancing around the empty hallway with a modesty unbecoming of your true nature. Starlight glittered against golden pillars, mounted flames crackling against the shouts from the feast hall beyond.

Loki shrugged innocently, a small smile curling his lip. His stomach was fizzing. He could feel the skin of his balls tightening beneath his ceremonial trappings. The inches of his mighty cock thickening with each roaring second of silence.

While he had been bound to nod and smile during peace talks and the intricacies of trade agreements over an endless ten days, all that had filled his mind was thoughts of your hot mouth wrapping around him. The glide of your tongue, the pressure of your fingertips digging hard into his flesh.

The torchlight made every vein of your irises sparkle as you slowly raised your gaze to meet his own.

There was a mischievous glint in them, an unspoken language honed between you saying all that needed to be said.

You craned upwards, pressing your lips against the shell of his ear with a licentious sigh. “Anyone could walk by,” you breathed, making Loki shudder. His thighs clenched, an unprompted groan rumbling in his throat. “Oh yes,” he gasped as your fingers toyed with the leather straps slung against his hips, “anyone.” The belts and sheath fell to the marble by his ankles with a series of thuds. It’s happening, he thought incredulously as you sank to your knees. The rustle of your skirts pooling on the ground made Loki brace. You never took your eyes off his, tugging the leather trousers down his hips.

Loki rested his head back on the marble pillar, lids fluttering closed as his hand wrapped around his cock. He jolted as the foreskin pulled back, stroking gently as you watched him. She’s actually going to-

His breath hitched, jaw clenching as your palms slid up the solid bulge of his femurs.

You squeezed.

“G-gods” Loki heard himself stammer, cringing.

Hold it together, he chided; letting his hand fall to the side. You are a Prince of Asgard. But knowing your talents, he suddenly wished he had something to hold on to.

The small puff of air that erupted from your lips made him straighten, spine pressing flat to the mirror. “I’ve missed you,” you whispered against his cock. Loki took a deep breath, choking ferociously on the exhale as you swallowed the tip. He clenched and unclenched his fists, resisting the urge to tangle his fingers in your hair like a commoner. The warmth was valhalla. No matter how many times he experienced it, the god found himself eternally unprepared. All of his senses were heightened. The rush of desire and long-held fantasies of this act, in this place, welling in his bloodstream as you swallowed him deeper. Lips made a vacuum on the girth, the feeling of your fingers circled tight around the root. Squeezing. Merciless. They tugged lightly at his public hair with every targeted pump. Wet. Your blowjobs were always so fucking wet.

He suddenly realised he was moaning. Loudly. The gnash of his teeth grinding shocked him back to reality, feeling the straining vein in his neck soften. Loki looked down, hearing the whoreish slurps and groans from your mouth as he thrust gently against your tongue. He juddered, palms slapping against the marble. “F-ffuck, darling...uh, y-yes,” he heard someone whine, “like that - just...like, like that.”

The hand pressed against one quivering thigh suddenly intertwined with his own. Loki watched, entranced as you brought it to the back of your head. “Oh, slut” he murmured in wonder, the feral rumble surprising even himself, “my slut.”

The effort not to slam his cock down your throat was inhuman. Appropriate, Loki grit; as your travelling saliva began to slosh against the crease of his thighs. With every moan-punctuated bob of your head, he guided you. Encouraged you. Yes, darling. Så jævla bra. Goddess, only you. No one fucks me like you. His pants of devotion, carnal and otherwise, filled the open promenade like incense. They wafted into the night air like smoke, each filth-soaked groan from his throat louder than the last. He could hear no buzz from the feasting hall, not anymore. All he could hear was blood thundering in his ears.

Tentatively, he let his gaze fall on the opposing pillar. Its polished surface held a mirage of you both, his towering body with your worshipping form nestled against his thighs.

Beneath the moonlight, cheekbones slashed the angles of his face in the faint reflection. Your eager body knelt between his spread legs was a tableau worthy of the masters of this realm. But not even Kvasir could capture such rapturous eros, he mused fleetingly; before pushing your head deeper against his cock.

You moaned muffled approval, both hands sliding up his obliques beneath the leather tunic. Your fingers curled around his abdomen. Loki felt his thighs begin to shake.

He raised his hands behind his head. Fingers scraped back the hair at his temples, a shuddering sigh racking his chest. Errant tendrils caught between his digits, tugging as another quaking gasp snaked from his throat. He laced the fingers behind his skull, stomach clenching as your sucking intensified. He marvelled at his image, the features blurred but no less impressive. No wonder you were insatiable. Each delve of your mouth, each drag of your hardened lips, each swipe of your talented tongue. Faster. Harder, as he watched himself come undone. He was going to explode. His ass clenched, trying to stop the wave of cum building in his loins. The one that would soon be sloshing down the back of your throat. He couldn’t take his eyes off himself. Off of you. The ceremonial leather tight against his biceps had begun to split under the skill of your mouth, the heat of your tongue and your breath and your fingers. His jaw hung open, chin pressed to his chest. It was wild. He was an animal. A king. He was- F-fuck, In the marble’s reflection, Loki could just see the slick of your drool glinting down to his knees in the lick of firelight, smeared by needy palms. Deviant, he thought as power welled in his deepest core, and she’s all mine. His grip of your ornately designed hair tightened, just for a second. The pants were deafening, broken gasps and moans of your name shaking the very stone beneath his feet as the pillar to his back crunched with each twitch of his shoulders. The responding settle of your fingers around his hips was the signal he needed. The signal he craved. With a barely tempered roar, the god’s ass clenched painfully; bucking forwards. He threw his head back against the pillar with a crack, jaw clenched to the ceiling as the world went black.

Stars burst behind his eyelids, the force of climax tearing through his body like ripping leather. All he could feel was pleasure, warmth from your heavenly mouth caressing him over the edge of sanity as his knees buckled. Your fingers tightened around his hips, rocking him gently through the final, strangled breaths.

In the way you always did in these stolen moments, you tucked his softening cock into his leathers with a kiss; fingers deftly weaving the laces together. You climbed his trunk, tucking damp hair behind his ears.

“I missed you,” he murmured breathlessly, tasting himself in every desperate catch of your lips.

Through the haze, he watched with slanted brows as you ran a thumb from the base of your chin to your mouth before inspecting it. A thick layer of white coated the curve. You sucked slowly. “Ten days, my Prince,” you chided solemnly, before the smile he loved so much began to dance.

Loki winked, his senses returning. And his lust. “I told you I would save it all,” he smouldered, winking as his armour once again materialised around his leather garments. Horns unfurled, reaching forward on either side above your head. The gold seemed brighter somehow.

“I have a mind to return to the feast, wife.” he said quietly, cocking an eyebrow as he extended his hand. You frowned. “Only temporarily,” he added, throwing a glance to the huge doors down the corridor. “We left in such haste…” You took his hand warily. “Not long, my love” you replied. It was a warning. “The feast holds nothing that will sate the hunger I have.” “I know,” Loki smirked. He traced the curve of your earlobe with his tongue, feeling you shiver with desire against him as he flicked it back and forth.

He moaned softly against the shell, your faltering grip on his cape releasing a wolfish smile. “I know.”

Tags (contd in comments) @lokischambermaid @meowmeow-motherfucker @gigglingtiggerv2 @imalovernotahater @avengersalways @littledark11 @lokikissesmyforehead @simplyholl @fictive-sl0th @thedistractedagglomeration @loopsisloops @glitchquake @jaidenhawke @silverfire475 @fandxmslxt69 @morriggannlostinfandoms @marygoddessofmischief @xorpsbane @peacefulpianist @yelkmelk @wheredafandomat @mistress-ofmagic @acidcasualties @ozymdias @your-taste-on-my-lips @lokidokieokie @kikster606 @peachyjinx @tbhiddlestan83 @trickster-maiden @skymoonandstardust @justjoanne242 @thenotoriouserg @ladyofthestayingpower @wolfmoonmusic @brittbax @smolvenger @liminalpebble @joyful-enchantress @kaleenjackson @fictional-hooman @kellatron55 @goddessofwonderland @icytrickster17 @multifandom-worlds @buttercupcookies-blog @alexakeyloveloki @kingtwhiddleston

[mermaidgirl30]

✨Take Me to Wonderland✨

A/N: Thank you so much @5oh5 for being my beta, I so appreciate it 🩷 This fic took over my mind last week and I just had to write it out. This one was super self-indulgent for me. I’ve always loved Alice in Wonderland and thought I could definitely pull Joel into the mix. I hope you enjoy going to Wonderland with Joel 🥹

Summary: You find yourself in Wonderland, but you think you’ve been here before. And the handsome stranger, Joel Miller, is someone that definitely seems familiar.

Pairing: Joel x fem! reader

Word Count: 14.7k

Rating: Explicit (18+ Only MDNI)

Tags: Soft Joel, soft dom! Joel, no outbreak, Alice in Wonderland AU, smut, creampie, unprotected p in v, oral receiving (fem), reader finds Wonderland, lots of fluff

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

 The bright lights from the lavish dinner party hall give you a blaring headache. This is the third one this week you’ve had to attend. It’s just the same routine. Another dinner, more socializing you don’t want to be a part of, putting on fake smiles to impress some higher up rich snobs just so you can make a good impression for your company. 

   You’re exhausted, so brutally tired that you could probably crawl up on one of the window sills and take a much needed cat nap with the way your body is lagging in your sparkly wedges. You drag your feet across the polished wooden floor and press your hands down firmly against your short sky blue dress, the fabric swishing around your soft thighs as you smooth the skirt out. 

   The smell of expensive wine and top brand steak lace through the air, the sound of soft classical music buzzing through your ears as you casually slide by important business men and women intermingling on the middle of the dance floor. 

   You pick up a glass of champagne and let the harsh taste slide down your parched throat, letting the liquid bubble inside you as you set it back down against the silky white table cloth. You want to go home, leave this fancy feast where talk of money and stocks fly through the air. If only there was some sort of distraction that could take you away from it all. 

   Suddenly, you see fast movements from the corner of your right eye. You shoot your head that direction and see what looks to be a white cotton tail jump through the sea of Coach shoes and fancy tailored suits. You move your head to see around a woman’s long silky coat and see flurries of hopping movements, the color of snow dancing through the crowd. 

   You take a few steps forward to see just what it is, your curiosity getting the best of you. You take one more step and stop the moment you see just what it is. A small white rabbit sits in the middle of the crowd. It has long white ears, probably as smooth as a feather, and big blue eyes that seem to look inside your soul. It holds up a golden watch and points straight at the hour hand and turns back around, running toward the long, empty hall outside of the ballroom. 

   A white rabbit? Did no one else see that? Are you just that tired that you’re hallucinating? 

   You look around to all the people in the crowd, but no one seems to notice the white rabbit that just leapt its way through the ballroom, and no one seems to notice your wide-eyed gaze. You turn to the brown wooden door and see the white rabbit point once more to its shiny watch, nodding its head as it runs outside of the room and disappears. 

   You take a step forward in the direction the rabbit went, but then stop a moment. Are you really going to chase after something that has to be an illusion? You look back to the sea of faces you don’t even know, watching as their fake laughter and imposter stances make you sick. You take one more look to the open door and nod. Hell yes you’re going to chase after a white rabbit. 

   You sprint to the door, careful not to trip over your high wedges as you chase after the rabbit. You see it at the end of the hall waiting for you, fluffy ears standing high as it holds the ticking watch in its hands as the shine of the watch reflects off the clear glass windows. It runs around the corner, not waiting for you as it keeps going. A clear game of tag as the rabbit seems amused at your clear exhaustion of trying to catch it. 

   “Wait!” you shout down the echoing halls, hoping the rabbit will hear you, but when you turn it’s disappearing yet again. This time, going through a small, dark hole in the wall as it drops the grand watch to the marble floor, not stopping to pick it up. 

   “Wait, you forgot this!” you shout frantically as you run over and bend down, picking up the watch as your fingers run idly over the golden watch. The watch strikes 7:30pm as its golden second hand spins in a cycle, the minutes ticking by as you hear the faint noise of the watch. 

   Tick, tick, tick. As the seconds pass by, the ticking seems to stir something in you as you look over to the dark hole in the wall, just big enough to crawl through. You could squeeze in, but should you? You don’t know what’s past the darkness of that wall. 

   You look back down the long hallway and hear the vacant laughs and chimes of silverware floating down the hall. You have a choice. You either go back in that loud, rambling room of rich pricks or you can go explore the darkness of the hole the white rabbit went through. 

   You only have one choice. Go chase a fantasy or walk back into a room of people you don’t care about. Your head turns quickly back toward the dark hole, and you decide then. 

   You choose the fantasy. 

   You hold tight to the golden watch and sink to your knees as you leave the crowded party down the hall and enter into a quiet, dark tunnel- like hole. The walls are hollow, damp corners filling your vision until you can see nothing but pitch black. You keep on pushing your way through, grunting with all your might as you squeeze through the narrowing walls. 

   The floor turns from marble flooring to thick, rich grass as you crawl and crawl and crawl until suddenly the opening of the room is large, towering above you. Deep green grass surrounds you, a lofty ceiling made of moss hangs freely from the darkness, and then you see a bright light. 

   You shift your way through the plushy grass and look through a little keyhole as warm light bursts through. You place your hands on the intricate pink doorway and look through the tiny hole. There, in the middle of a cobblestone path, stands the rabbit. It looks back at you, nodding its head as if to say “Come on now, you’re late.”

   You push on the heavy door, putting every ounce of strength into your arms as you can until you hear a locking sound click into place. You shove once more and then you’re falling forward as the doorway jars open. 

   You land with a thud on the concrete steps and take a minute to smooth out your dress as you stand up. Once you do, you watch the white rabbit speed off ahead of you, daring you to chase after it. You’re awfully sick of playing this game of tag, but you run after it into a sea of green as you enter into a maze of thick bushes. 

   The rabbit jumps through the green maze, zipping around tight corners as you huff to try to keep up. You nearly run straight into a tall, mangy bush as you slide amongst the slippery pebbled path. 

   “Wait!” you call out. “You’re going too fast, please!” 

   Just as the rabbit disappears around another corner and you follow after it, you wind up in a massive open area. You stop and gasp as you take in the tall, colorful wildflowers, the rush of the lilac scented breeze, the mist of a flowing river as a rushing waterfall tumbles into the clear, blue water. 

   What is this place?

   The rabbit hops up to you and grabs the golden watch from your hand, stealing it back as its furry paw flexes around it.   

   “You’re late.” The voice comes out deep, the sound of a male’s voice as he hops off into a thick, green forest. Before he disappears completely, he sticks his furry ears out behind a tree and curls a paw his way. “Well, don’t just stand there. Come on! He’s waiting,” he calls as he disappears behind a sea of thick trees. 

   He’s waiting? Who is waiting? And did that rabbit just talk? You must be losing your mind.

   You shake your head clear as you walk past a patch of colorful wildflowers. Lilies, tulips, and flowers you don’t know the names of all sprawl out in a thick patch of colors. Vibrant purples, blues, pinks, greens, yellows, and reds collide together in a row of lavish intricacy. 

   As you look across the patch of lush green grass you see white roses that drip red, mixing the colors together as if blood stains the pure white roses. You find it kind of odd to have a field of untouched, beautiful wildflowers and then a row of rose bushes that seem to be tainted by paint. 

   “Odd. This place is so odd,” you murmur as you move along the straight trail that will lead you to the trees where the rabbit disappeared. “Silly rabbit, what am I possibly late for? Who was he talking about when he said he’s waiting? Who is he?” 

   The questions swirl through your head as you pass through the flower field. You hear whispers, quiet and meek as they dance through the large, colorful field. She’s here. She’s finally here! Oh, finally. He’s been waiting for so long. 

   Are the flowers talking about you? Is that what you’re hearing? No. It can’t possibly be. This is too much. You have to be hallucinating or asleep. This isn’t real. None of this is real. 

   You push yourself further up the path, passing painted butterflies of orange, blue, and white colors as they flutter above your head. The area is so green, lush grass and vibrant plants every which way you look. Glowing mushrooms the color of hot pink line the way through the thick trees, and you follow. 

   You end up on a winding path, a soft, salmon colored dust path that splits off into four different directions. You turn to the left, to the right, looking all four ways as your mind races like a ticking clock. 

   A large white wooden sign sits to the left of the path, arrows pointing in all different directions as the signs read This Way, That Way, Up Here, Wrong Way, Down Here. There’s no rhyme or reason to any of this madness. How the fuck were you going to get out of this mess if the signs couldn’t even be read?!

   You stomp one of your shoes into the dirt and kick some pink dust up, feeling yourself losing your patience as this place isn’t making any sense. First, there was a white rabbit with a golden watch, then you crawled through a small hole that led you to some sort of fantasy land, then the rabbit accused you of being late, and now this. 

   You kick the edge of the wooden sign with your foot aggressively and let out a deep huff. “How do I get out of here?” you sigh as you cross your arms and furrow your eyebrows together. 

   “You want to get out of here? But you only just got here!” A slithery, deep voice slips down from one of the jacaranda trees and startles you as you jump back from the voice.

   “Who’s there?” you ask shakily as you look up into the big purple leaves of the massive trees. You search and search until a large cat comes out of the shadows and shows its face. You stop in your tracks and look up as a pair of big green eyes appear on a low hanging branch. Its body materializes next as thick lines of purple and pink paint its long-haired fur. 

   “Who is there is a good question, isn’t it? I know who you are, but you don’t know me. How intriguing,” he smiles as he hangs off the branch and twists his body to where his face is right in front of yours. His green eyes glow like fairy lanterns and his pearly white sharp incisors seem to go on for miles. 

   “How do you know who I am?” you ask nervously as you stare back into eyes that lock on yours. His smile widens as he drops his body further, seeming to float in space as he places his sharp paws underneath his chin. 

   “Oh, my dear. Everyone knows who you are here. It’s no secret. We’ve been waiting. Mostly he’s been waiting. And what a treat that’ll be. You’re even prettier than I imagined,” he chuckles deeply as he spins his body around yours, floating in thin air. 

   “Who is he that everyone seems to be talking about?” you ask annoyed as you cross your bare arms over your chest and turn to follow his floating body. You want answers and you want them now. 

   “You’ll find out soon, very soon,” he laughs as his fanned out tail glides against your shoulder, leaving a feather-like touch to your skin. 

   “Fine, if you won’t tell me then just tell me which way I’ll find him,” you demand as you place your hands on your hips, letting the soft material of your blue dress sink through you. 

   “This way,” he points to the left, his claws sharp like knives as he switches directions and points to the right. “No, this way. Actually, maybe it’s north of here,” he smiles as he points up from where he floats. 

   You purse your lips to try to keep yourself calm. “Please, just tell me where to go,” you plead, eyes burning red as you try to keep your composure together, but it’s slowly breaking the more this cat plays with you. 

   “You’re exactly where you need to be, my dear. Just hold tight,” he smiles as he disappears into thin air, his voice carrying through the wind as it slowly slips away. Vanishing just like that. 

   You look every which way while fisting your hands to your side and turn back toward the direction you first came, looking out into the wildflower fields that paint the ground a sea of rainbow colors. You close your eyes and take a deep breath, letting the cool breeze hit your skin as you inhale scents of fresh roses and lilty daisies. 

   “Home, I need to get back home,” you whisper silently. 

   Just as you take another deep breath, you hear the deep sound of a throat being cleared and then a rugged, gravelly voice break you free of your thoughts of home. 

   “You lost there, darlin?” 

   You turn back around, as quick as a bolt of crisp lightning, and you’re about to chew the cat back out until you realize it’s not him. It’s a man. Him. It has to be the one they were all talking about. 

   You watch as he leans up against the rough bark of a winding tree, his arms crossed over his broad chest as he leans and watches you closely, eyes trailing down your body as he takes you in nice and slow. Suddenly you’re completely nervous and forgetting your words as you take him in. 

   Tall. He’s so tall, a little over six feet if you had to guess. His eyes are like pools of honey. Deep, brown eyes that seem to have flecks of warmth sprinkled all around them. And his arms. God, his arms. Large, muscular as his biceps pull at the blue flannel button-up that wraps tightly around him. His sleeves are rolled up to his elbows, exposing large veins that seem to thread and skate down his arms as they end in massive hands. Hands that probably feel warm, safe. 

   His blue jeans cling to his thick thighs as clean leather boots lace up over his large feet. He smirks over at you, a flirtatious, playful look that says he’s trouble written all over that gorgeous face. A smooth, patchy beard and mustache cover his face with silver lining the edges. And his hair. Dark tousled curls that spill over the edges of his forehead, and you think they look soft to the touch, maybe even like velvet. 

   He looks like trouble to you. Warm, inviting, fun trouble. 

   God, he’s so handsome. 

   “Well?” he asks again, waiting for you to answer. 

   “I…I…” you stutter out, unable to even form a comprehensive sentence. What the fuck is wrong with you? 

   “Cat got your tongue?” he chuckles as the deep sound from his chest seems to reverberate right off the hollow tree barks, landing right into your own chest. It’s like you can feel his laugh. Warm, syrupy, infectious. He’s like a dream. A dream that doesn’t seem to be quite real.

   You shake your head, clearing the fog as you find your words again. “I was just looking for my way out of here. Back home,” you answer as you take a step forward and lace your fingers together as you hold them nervously behind your back. 

   “Back home? You already want to leave so soon?” he laughs as he pushes himself off the tree and takes a few steps forward, crunching his leather boots over the salmon colored dirt of the road. 

   “Of course she doesn’t. She hasn’t even seen all of Wonderland yet,” the cat replies as he comes out of thin air and rests on the handsome man’s shoulders, his lined purple tail curling around his long neck. “I think she wants you to show her Wonderland,” he says with mischief written all over those glowing green cat eyes. 

   “Wonderland?” you ask with your eyebrows knit together in concentration. “What’s Wonderland?” 

   The cat twists its flexible body over the man’s arm, floating off to his side as he smiles brightly up at him. “I’ll let you lead the way. Good luck,” he grins as a loud laugh carries through every path of the massive forest. “Goodbye, pretty girl,” he calls as he vanishes once again into thin air, only the glow of his jagged smile staying in the cotton clouds, high above the trees. 

   You shake your head and laugh under your breath. This place isn’t real. It can’t be. “Who was that?” you ask the man as he crosses his arms and looks over at you with a gleam in his shiny brown eyes.

  “That’s the Cheshire Cat. You can just call him Ches for short. That’s what we all call him,” he replies as he takes another step toward you, getting so close that you can smell him. Rich mahogany and the scent of deep pine needles. Intoxicating. 

   “And you? Who are you?” you ask as you flick your eyes over him, seeing just how large in stature he is. 

   “The name’s Joel. Joel Miller,” he nods as he sticks a large hand out to you, edging you to take it as he shoves it closer to you after you do nothing but stare at it. 

   You finally get the courage to reach your hand out and place it in his. You gasp as soon as he closes his strong grip on yours. His fingers are thick, calloused, warm as you slowly shake his hand. 

   His eyes lock on yours and it’s like you’re frozen in time, flecks of golden brown staring back at you as you quickly come back to reality. You drop his hand and take a step back, breaking the soft introduction as you stare at the small crevices in the ground. 

   “I know who you are.” He says your name softly as if he’s known you for years. And it sounds so good coming off his tongue, like a melody that sweeps past the breeze and lands right into a large bed of wildflowers. Gentle. He says your name so gently, soft. But how does he know your name? This doesn’t make any sense. 

   “How do you know my name?” you ask suspiciously as you watch him shift his weight back and forth against the firm ground. 

   He chuckles like this is all a game to him, like you know him already when in reality he’s a complete stranger. Someone you’ve never met. You would’ve remembered if you met someone like him before. 

   “There’s a lot I know about you, sweetheart,” he smirks, a devastatingly handsome smile that you can’t help but melt over.

   Sweetheart? Something shifts inside you as you take in his handsome face, his warm eyes that seem to drip like flowing honey. A gleam in his eye that tells you you do know him. But how? You want to stare into those entrancing eyes, want to walk over and trace your fingers against the starry flecks of warmth, but there’s no time for that. You need answers, now. 

   “What is this place? Wonderland is what Ches said. What’s Wonderland?” 

   Joel just laughs and shakes his head. “Wonderland has been here for a very long time. It’s been here waiting for you. It’s been so long, darlin’. So very long. We didn’t think you’d ever come,” he says quietly as he huffs a sigh of relief that you’re actually standing here in front of him. 

   “You’ve been waiting? What? I don’t understand. I’ve never been here before. This has got to be some sick fantasy. I must’ve fallen and bumped my head. None of this is real.” 

   “You sure about that, sweetheart?” he asks as one of his dark eyebrows raises high on his forehead, eyes staring at you as if he’s waiting for you to say something else. 

   You question his stance but quickly shake your head out of the daze. “Yes, this isn’t real. Now I’m going to close my eyes and pinch myself and then I’ll wake up back in the real world,” you confirm as you close your eyes tightly and dream of home. 

   Home. You mean back to your overwhelming, overworked life as you engage in endless meetings and parties with people that don’t matter. Is that what you really want to go back to? Is that what you want?

   You keep your eyes sealed closed as you grit your teeth together and think of home. Home. Back to your warm bed and back to your cat, Duchess. You feel a pinch sting your arm as you squeeze your fingertips together, but to no avail. It doesn’t seem to work.

   You hear the sounds of a deep chuckle rumbling in front of you, and then you peel your eyes open to see Joel standing a few paces away as he crosses his strong arms and shakes his head in dismissal. He’s laughing at you. 

   “What’s so funny?” you ask annoyed, huffing out as you see you’re still in Wonderland. It didn’t work. 

   “Didn’t work, did it?” he smirks, his large hand dragging  down his coarse beard as his penetrating gaze keeps you in place. 

   You gulp, catching your own breath as you answer quietly. “No. I guess it didn’t…”

   “That’s because this is real,” he confirms as he takes another step closer to you, boots scuffing against the dirt as he takes another and another and another until he’s standing right in front of you, wild brown eyes sinking down into yours. 

   You shake your head, unwilling to accept that this may very well be real. “This isn’t real. You’re not real.”

   “Not real, huh? Reach out and touch the trunk of the tree,” he instructs as his gentle voice carries through the crisp air. 

   “Why?”

   “Just do it, will ya?” he asks with more force in his rugged voice, the sound making you stand up straighter as it reverberates down your spine. 

   “You’re a stubborn one, ain’t ya?” he chuckles, a Southern drawl carrying through the wind as it lands straight through your ringing eardrums. 

   “Guess so,” you laugh. 

   You reach your arm out timidly and stroke the dark bark of the tree, feeling the rough edges snag against the palm of your hand. 

   “There ya go, just like that,” he praises as you feel his hot breath breathing down your neck, your skin suddenly boiling alive as you breathe in the scent of fresh bark and wood as it seems to cloud your racing mind. 

   You take a step back out of his reach and look nervously around you. It sure felt real, but it still didn’t explain how you were here. 

   As if he sees the wavering expression on your face, he speaks again. Low and gruff sounds falling off the tip of his tongue. “This place is real. Just as much as I am. Here, close your eyes for a second,” he says nicely as he takes another step forward. 

   You take a step back, and he holds his hands up to say he’s not going to hurt you. “Please, just for a second. Close ‘em. Need you to trust me, sweetheart.”

   As your mind caves to his request, you find yourself obeying. You close your eyes and twist your fingers around the hem of your dress, letting the nerves drift away as you try to relax. 

   “Now, take a deep breath. Focus on the sounds of the rushing water, the trees gently blowing through the wind, the air around you as it blows through your hair. Just listen, get lost in the sounds, in yourself,” he instructs with a lilty voice, the sounds instantly calming you as you follow his instructions. 

   You slow your breathing down, taking nice, deep breaths as you lose yourself to your surroundings. You hear the faint hum of honey bees dancing through the wildflowers, feel the rush of spring air as it blows gently through your flowing hair, hear the trickle of the river as the distant waterfall clashes against rocks and smooth water. 

   Focus. Deep breaths. This is real, this is real. 

   Before you can take another breath, a large palm slides against your cheek, and you almost jolt at the electric spark it ignites in your body. 

   “Does this feel real to you?” he asks quietly, the volume of his words coming off as composed, soft, warm. 

   You carefully place your hand over his as you feel the opposite textures of his skin. The back of his hand is soft, smooth as your fingers timidly graze along his tanned skin. His palm is rough, calloused fingers hovering over your jawline as his thick fingers stay right there on your face. 

   It feels strange how warm and inviting he feels, how vaguely familiar he seems as you breathe in the taste of mahogany and pinewood, letting the scent coat your lungs as you drink it down. You want to box it up, wrap it tightly in a jar so you can fill your surroundings with the smell of him. 

   “Open your eyes,” he whispers, his hand still grazing your jawline as you flutter your eyelids open. 

   Your eyes grow wide as you see him standing right in front of you, boots meeting the edges of your open wedge shoes as you see just how clear and coated his glossy brown eyes are now. 

   “This real enough for you?” he asks quietly as he slides his calloused thumb across your cheek once more, filling your insides with warmth and peace. A peace you’ve been craving for months. 

   “Yes,” you whisper out, voice deceiving you as he drops his hand and chuckles, taking a step back as he digs his fingers into the pocket of his dark jeans. You’re suddenly  aware that the warmth is gone from your face. It left the moment he dropped his fingers from your jawline. 

   You take a moment to breathe, letting the warm sunlight wash over your fair skin as you let the scent of lilies and forest scents bring you back to earth. You take one more deep breath and ask the question that haunts your mind.

   “What am I doing here, Joel? How am I? I just… I just don’t understand.” Your right hand grabs the edge of the satiny material of your light blue dress as your eyes wander back over to the man with broad shoulders and beautiful eyes. 

   He shrugs a little, but smiles underneath the hoods of his brown eyes. “You needed an escape, darlin’. You opened the door to Wonderland. You found it, with a little help from the white rabbit,” he responds with a deep chuckle. “But, ultimately, you found it on your own. It’s your fantasy land.”

   “My fantasy land? But I… I’ve never been here before. How could it be mine if I didn’t even know about it? And you. How could you possibly know I was coming?” you ask with your voice raised, endless questions brewing as if this was all impossible in the first place. 

   Impossible. This place is impossible. 

   “I wasn’t sure you would come. I only hoped you would,” he says softly as warm brown eyes look down into yours, feelings stirring inside you that you can’t quite decipher. Too twisted, too tied in knots, too risky to untangle. 

   “Why do I feel like I’ve known you for years? I only just met you…” you whisper vacantly, your voice hollowing out on the last syllable as something snaps inside you. A feeling of… tranquility. 

   “A funny feelin’, ain’t it? Those feelings are never really wrong though, are they?”

   His pondering questions make you feel crazy, mind boggling as you slowly shake your head. No. That can’t be true. Or is he just twisting your mind to make you believe whatever he says? But somehow you know he’s not lying to you. He wouldn’t. Somehow you know he’s not playing tricks on you. Deep down you know, he’s telling the truth.

   You run your fingers through your hair and let them fall back down to your sides unfaltering. “Am I mad? Have I lost my mind?” you ask distraughtly as you bite your lower lip and knit your eyebrows together in deep thought. 

   He takes a step forward, golden eyes shining in the sunlight as he laughs and shakes his head. “We’re all a little mad here, darlin’.” 

   You stifle a small laugh and shake your head knowingly. “Mmm,” you hum as you take in the madness of the words. 

   We’re all mad here. 

   He nods his head as a curl falls down against his forehead, leaning toward the winding path that’ll take you north into a forest of wonders. “C’mon. Follow me.”

   Follow me. The words twist off his tongue as they echo through your mind. Follow me. What will happen if you do follow him? 

   You turn back toward the way you came, eyes searching for a hidden door you can’t see anymore. Covered by twisting vines and a sea of green mazes that snake around the overflowing garden. No turning back now. 

   You feel Joel’s large presence behind you, drawing closer and closer until he’s right behind you as his dark shadow falls across the salmon colored pathway. You inhale a deep breath, but all you smell is pine needles and fresh wood and maybe a hint of fresh cut grass. You smell him. 

   “You’ve gotta stop lookin’ back from the way you came, sweetheart. I know that’s the last place you want to be right now. You want to be away from the noise, the stress, the fake smiles.” 

   His voice slides against the shell of your ear, reverberating down to your chest as his words sting your insides. Of course you don’t want to go back to that. So why are you looking back? 

   “What are you so scared of, sweetheart? Hmm?” he asks quietly, his fingertips grazing the edge of your arm as goosebumps form over the sensitive areas he touches. Wildfire burning in the thick brush of trees is what it feels like. Fiery, tempting, smoldering. You can almost taste the flames. Those stirring, enticing flames. 

   “Everything,” you whisper, pulling all the courage in your gut to answer his question. What are you so scared of? 

   “Everything, huh? Darlin’, you don’t have to be scared of me. You don’t have to fear this place. This is your safe haven, your sanctuary. Take a leap of faith. Come join me. Follow me through the trees. There’s nothin’ to fear. The only thing you should fear is time itself. So relax. Can you do that for me?” he asks, his hot breath blowing down your exposed neck as you feel his large hand slip down to your waist, barely grazing your light blue dress as his lips sit dangerously close to your jawline. 

   You don’t have to be scared of me. Relax. This is your safe haven. The words simmer in your mind as your heartbeat races in your blood. The only thing you should fear is time itself.

   “The only thing you should fear is time?” you repeat, the words leaving your lips as you feel his calloused fingers trace a flyaway hair behind your ear, tucking it back neatly as he lines his soft lips up to your earlobe and whispers. 

   “Time, darlin’. You can’t escape it, can’t run from it. But you can run with the madness, let your mind unwind just a little as you slip away into wonder. Let me show you the way,” he coaxes, a sweet melody that enchants your very soul, pulling you toward him, away from all the noise of the outside world, away from normalcy. 

   You feel him slip from your grasp as you open your eyes up and turn slowly in his direction, seeking his soft brown eyes and deft fingers again. He smirks over at you, a mischievous grin as he nods his head and holds out his hand. 

   “Follow me through Wonderland, sweetheart. Let me show you exactly what I’m talking about.”

   You look at his outstretched hand and look back behind you, back to the way you came in. No going back. This is your chance. Take a leap of faith. Follow him through Wonderland. 

   You turn once more and see him nod his head, a gentle smile curling up against the sides of his mouth as his warm eyes wade into yours. It’s like you hear his calming drawl as you look at his outstretched hand, calloused fingers reaching your way, convincing you to take it. 

   Follow me through Wonderland. Let me show you. 

   You lift your hand, curling your fingers as you think twice about it. His soft brown eyes relax, the crow’s feet pulling at the edges of his tanned skin as his crinkled eyes tell you it’s okay. You can take his hand. 

   “C’mon, sweetheart. You can trust me,” he says softly, his large palm reaching out a little more, coaxing you to take it. 

   It’s like you hear the swaying whispers of the wild flowers in the fields, their small trills of voices as they carry through the wind. Take his hand. He’s safe. He’s been waiting so long for you. Let him take you to Wonderland.

    You feel it inside your chest, the building breaths and  aching longing that leads you to him. Just one more glance at those brown flecks of warmth and that’s all it takes to convince you.

    You reach your hand out and press it slowly into his palm, letting his calloused fingers lace through yours as you gasp at the warmth that simmers there. Safe, he’s safe. 

    He leads you forward through the thick trees, passing peculiar species of birds and plants you’ve never seen before. All shades of the rainbow laid out like a colorful map for you to take in. As you look around in awe, Joel turns his head back and smiles at you. A warm, gentle smile that makes your insides melt with affection. 

   He continues leading you through this beautiful, strange world. Further, further, further until you’re almost to the end of the pink road, following Joel as he takes the lead. 

His hand presses into yours more, calloused fingers brushing over yours as comfort embeds your entire skin.    

   Familiar, he seems so familiar like you’ve been here before, like you’ve held his hand before, like you’ve known him for so long. And it’s strange, such a strange feeling that encompasses your whole being. 

   You reach the end of the path and then end up in a wide open space that looks like an enchanted forest. Rows of colorful tulips, marigolds, and lillies cover the area. Green hills in the far distance tower high in the sky, lush grass covers the ground, and a running river crashes lightly to the left of a cobblestone path.

   As you walk through the path of vivid flowers, you swear you hear them whispering, calling your name as your bare legs brush past them. And it sounds like they’re talking about you. 

   Joel chuckles quietly in front of you as he shakes his head, ruffling his tousled curls as he turns and looks back at you. 

   “Did I hear the flowers whisper my name? Or am I hearing things?” you ask as he looks at you with sun kissed lips and brown flecked eyes.

   “They uh… they were definitely talkin’ ‘bout ya. Don’t mind them. They like to gossip to each other,” he laughs, the infectious sound flowing through your ears as you can’t help but smile shyly back up at him. 

   He really is handsome. 

   “What are they saying?” you ask as he continues to lead you through the glowing sunshine of the glittering forest. 

   “They think you’re pretty,” he blushes as if he’s hiding something else, but you don’t push for more answers. 

   “Pretty, huh? That’s what they think?”

   “Mhm. Beautiful…” he whispers under his breath, making your cheeks blush crimson as you fight a growing smile on your glossy lips. 

   As you continue walking through patches of soft grass, past more whispering tulip fields, you can’t help but wonder if this is all a trick of the eye. Everything is so beautiful, so surreal like that it��s hard to wrap your head around this place. 

   Joel looks back your way and squeezes your hand, assessing your wandering gaze as you watch a bright blue butterfly land on Joel’s shoulder, the butterfly seeming to stare up at him as Joel smiles down and nods. “Hello, Absolem.”

   “Absolem?” you ask as the butterfly turns your way and crawls on the back of your hand, looking up at you as if he’s trying to talk to you. No words come out of his mouth, but you swear you see a tiny speck of a smile on his lips as he flies away and leaves you standing there watching in awe. 

   “Absolem,” Joel confirms. 

   “You talk to butterflies in your spare time?” you laugh as you casually tease him. He squeezes his hand around you and shakes his head. 

   “We’re in Wonderland, remember? You can pretty much talk to anything, even the trees. They’ll eventually answer you.”

   “Strange, this is so strange.”

   “Just wait till you see the mad tea party up ahead,” he responds as he pulls you deeper into a shaded area covered by big, purple leaves that fill the trees. 

   “Mad tea party?” you ask with a raised brow. 

   “You’ll see,” he smirks as he pulls you along. 

   You walk around a big, shaded tree and come to stand a few feet from a long, narrow table that has tall wooden chairs surrounding it. A lacy white table cloth hangs low over the edges as various icing topped cakes, intricate tea pots, fine china, and pastries litter the table in a heap.  

   You gasp as you see a mangy rabbit with discombobulated ears yelling about unbirthdays and tea sitting about the table. The white rabbit sits on the opposite side assessing his golden watch while arguing with the other rabbit, and the Cheshire Cat floats above the table as he curls his striped tail around his neck. But what wracks your brain a little is the tall, peculiar man that sits at the head of the table. 

   He has a large green top hat with a decorative pink ribbon around the rim of the hat. His clothes are odd. A red velvet jacket sits atop a purple frilly shirt with a large multicolored bow around his neck. His pants sit pressed against his legs as stripes fill the cotton material. 

   When he looks up, a large white smile fills his face as bright red hair sticks out underneath his top hat and flashy green eyes stare wildly your way. He drops his cup of tea and sprints over to you in a hurry, wide eyes staring your way in shock. 

   “It’s you! You finally found your way,” he says out of breath, voice elated with excitement as he looks over at Joel. “Joel, you found her. You brought her back!” he shouts as he jumps up and down in a crazed manner. 

   “Brought me back?” you ask confused. But you haven’t been here before. Have you?

   “She found Wonderland herself, hatter. I didn’t bring her here. She found it on her own.” He looks over at you, and you swear you see pride in his eyes, a fondness that could only be explained by looking into his eyes. 

   Safe. He’s safe. 

   “Darlin’, this is the mad hatter.” 

   The mad hatter takes your hand as he says your name and bows his head as he tips his oversized hat to you, making you feel like you belong here. Like you’re not a stranger to this world. 

   “Nice to meet you,” you say as you give him a courteous greeting. 

   He smiles up at you with a big Cheshire grin and asks you the most curious question you’ve ever heard before. “Why is a raven like a writing desk?” he asks with big green eyes as he leans forward with his hands clapping together in anticipation. 

   “Umm I’m not sure…” you say quizzically, eyebrows knit together as Joel just shakes his head. 

   “Hatter, she doesn’t have time for questions like that. Let her be. Her and Joel have places to go,” the white rabbit says as he holds up his ticking watch, the other rabbit just pointing and laughing at nothing in particular. 

   “Oh, right. Well you must come back for tea! We can celebrate your unbirthday and have lots of tea and cake,” he shouts loudly as he bows and skips back over to the table, joining the madness of the tea party again. 

   “Go on now,” the Cheshire Cat says as he waves you off with the flick of his purple paw. “Have fun with Joel.” He smiles a wide, bright smile at you as it curls into a devious smirk, pure trouble behind those blinding green eyes. 

   Joel chuckles under his breath and shakes his head. “C’mon, darlin’. Got a lot more to show you.” He grabs your wrist and pulls you the opposite way of the tea party as you hear the faint shouts and laughs from the ridiculousness of it all. 

   As you walk through a trail of wispy willows and white rose bushes, you ask him another question as you follow his lead. “You live here? In Wonderland?”

   “Mhm. Got a house right up that winding path.” He points to a cobblestone path that leads into a valley of tall, green trees that overlook the side of a flowing waterfall. 

   “It’s just you?” you ask, eyes fixed on the large veins in his neck as he purses his lips together and nods his head.

   “Jus’ me, darlin’.”

   “It must get lonely here. By yourself, I mean,” you say as you nip at your bottom lip, hoping you’re not overstretching your questions. 

   “It can be, I suppose.” At those words, his thick fingers wrap tighter around your wrist, almost as if he’s latching on to you, hoping you won’t leave too soon. You can almost hear the wallowing of his words as if he speaks them out loud to you. 

   Don't go away. Stay here with me. 

   You continue walking, the green grass catching on your shoes as you come across a large, glistening pond. Massive green lily pads with pink flowers that sit atop them wade in the water as they float gently in the breeze. Joel nods his head and takes a step forward, but you take a step back, fear coursing through you. 

   “You want me to cross that?” you ask all wide-eyed and mouth falling open as you see no other way across. “Wouldn’t the lily pads just sink?”

   “They’re solid, made for crossing by foot. It’s alright. I do it all the time.”

   He holds his hand out, his large palm facing up as he nods for you to take it. You weigh your options carefully. Either turn back to the mad tea party or take your chances here with Joel. You know which one you want to choose. 

   His brown eyes become warmer, golden flecks dancing in his irises as he spreads his fingers wider, taking a step in your direction as he asks you once more to put a little faith in him. 

   “C’mon, sweetheart. You trust me?” he asks as his eyebrows knit together in a tight line, his eyes searching yours as he waits for an answer. There’s that look again, the one you saw back at the entrance from where you came. You hear the words so carefully. 

   You can trust me. 

   “Yes,” you breathe, putting your hand in his as a smile curls up on his lips that forms a dimple against his cheek. 

   He’s so fucking handsome. 

   “Well, c’mon then, sweetheart. This way,” he responds as he carefully leads you across the floating lily pads. 

   Glowing coy fish glide under the water as sparkling dragonflies hover over the surface of the crystal clear water and dance around the green lily pads. The smell of spring and rose bushes fill the air as the glowing sun warms your soft skin. This place is so magical. 

   When you finally cross over to the other side of the pond, Joel leads you over to a sea of giant mushrooms. Pastel pinks, dark blues, violet purples, and shades of ember reds fill the area. And they look so soft to the touch, like velvet beds you can crawl up and take a cat nap on. 

   Joel turns you around, his eyes softening as those flecks of warmth sink deep into yours. He stands so close to you, so close that you can smell the pine wood and mahogany scent that drip off his very being. You want to inhale that scent, drown in it as it coats your insides, bottle it up so you remember exactly what he smells like. 

   And then he smiles. That deep, warm smile that seems to pull everything into place. It’s so warm, so calming, so soothing. You’ve seen it before, you know you have. But where? When? You don’t even know. All you know is you have seen him before. You must have. 

   You gulp and twist your fingers nervously through your skirt that blows gently in the wind, your lips parting open as you find your words. “Why do I feel like this isn’t the first time I’ve met you? I feel… I feel like I’ve known you for so long,” you murmur out carefully as your gears grind together in your brain. 

   He chuckles, a deep, sated sound that seems to fill your body up with a splash of warmth. “You think you’ve been here before?” he asks curiously, eyebrows raising as he places all his attention on you. 

   “I don’t… I don’t think so. I would’ve remembered this place. I would’ve remembered you,” you stammer out, your brain cells firing off as you try to remember. 

   Remember, remember, remember. But you can’t. You can’t. 

   Your brain starts to go foggy, all memories of this place nonexistent. If you’ve never been here before then why do you feel this way about Joel? Why is he clouding your entire mind with his warm eyes and gentle smile? 

   “Why do you think you’re here, darlin’? Why do you think you opened up that locked door to Wonderland?” he asks with a tilted head, eyebrows knitting together as he concentrates solely on you. 

   You gulp as his intense stare lingers on you. Your fingers grip the hem of your dress as you stutter out nonsense. “I… ummm I don’t know…”

   “No?” he asks as he crooks his head, a hand sitting deep in the pocket of his jeans as his eyebrows mold together in a tight line. “I think you do, sweetheart.”

   You take another breath as you blow it out through your mouth, letting it fall through the wind as you swallow back nerves. “You seem to know, Joel. So tell me. Tell me why I’m here.”

   He smirks before he starts to move forward, his broad form coming closer and closer until he’s standing right in front of you. Joel circles you slowly, calloused fingers trailing up your bare arms as he slides behind your tense shoulders. He drags his index finger along your collarbone gently, making you squeak as nerves pull through the pit of your stomach.

   “This is why you came here, remember? To let go, to lose yourself in this fantasy,” he purrs as his lips slide against the shell of your ear, breathing hot air down your neck as your body seems to still against the lull of his deep voice.

   His thick fingers trace your jawline, your chin, your neck as he courses down to the strap of your delicate sky blue dress and lingers there, slowly hooking a finger under as he whispers seductively into your ear, “So let go.”

   Your breath hitches as his sloped nose brushes against yours, his lips hanging inches above yours as you stare at them. Big, plush, enticing lips. Soft. They look so soft, like they’d fit perfectly over yours. 

   His forehead drops down to yours as you breathe him in deep. Pine trees, wood, sunlight, ecstasy. It’s all you smell, all you feel as his calloused fingers brush over your jawline, lingering under your chin as he brings your face up, up, up. Just enough to be able to brush his lips against yours as you feel hot warmth flood through your insides. Anticipation builds as you nearly moan his name out, your lips parting slightly as you gaze into his warm, starry eyes. And in that moment you want him, badly. 

   “Is this what you want, sweetheart? Wanna let go and lose yourself in me?” he blows over your lips, his fingers brushing a curl behind your ear as they tease your jawline, making you arch up more as your fingers dig into the soft material of his flannel. “Say yes, let me show you how to let go,” he coaxes. 

   Without thinking, you let your body take control as you slur the words out effortlessly. “Yes, show me. Show me how to let go,” you whisper. 

   He wastes no time and crashes into your lips, his large hands cupping your face as he presses deeper against your mouth. Soft. His lips are so fucking soft as they ravish yours deftly. 

   You part your lips for him, letting him slot his tongue inside your mouth as he glides the tip of it against yours. He dances around your mouth, meticulous circles as you breathe him in, tasting the honeysuckle flavor of his large tongue. You run your fingers through his tousled curls and feel the moan that catches in his mouth, making you burn like wildfire against the sound. 

   He starts pushing you back and you walk backwards and feel yourself stop as something hits the back of your thighs. He doesn’t let up, doesn’t stop as he takes and takes and takes. Continuing to twist his savory tongue around your mouth. 

   After a few more seconds of intense kissing and fingers twisting in hair, he breaks the kiss and leans his forehead against yours as his large hands run down your sides, landing on your hips as he starts to hike your dress slowly up. Your breathing is ragged, desperate as you want more. 

   Give me more, please.

   It’s like he senses your need as he asks, “You gonna let go for me, sweetheart? Let me give you what you need?”

   “Yes, yes,” you whisper rapidly as you hear him chuckle under his breath. 

   “Good, let me take care of you, baby. Sit back for me.”

   He pushes you back further as you land sitting on top of a dark blue mushroom. It’s big, soft, almost velvety as you lay your palms flat against it. It almost feels like a bed made of feathers. How strange. He puts a hand on your shoulder and gently shoves you back until you’re laying flat against the mushroom, the softness of it all taking over as your heart pounds in your chest. 

   You look up and see him stalking toward you like a starved dog, his smirk widening as his eyes darken and hound you. When he reaches the edge of the mushroom, he grabs your legs and slides you forward as you hear a small yelp escape your vocal cords. 

   “What are you… what are you doing?” you ask nervously as he slowly starts to part your legs while dragging his thick fingers up and down your thighs languidly. 

   “What’s it look like I’m doin’, hmm?” he asks, smirking as he cocks an eyebrow up and digs his nail beds into your flesh, making a coat of slick fall against your now sticky panties. 

   He moves up, up, up until he’s hovering over your clothed folds, brushing ever so gently against the damp material. Oh, fuck. He teases the waistband of the material and skims over the soft skin underneath, making you bite your bottom lip as you practically beg him with your needy eyes to keep going. 

   “You want me to keep goin’, baby? You gotta tell me what you want. Use your words, c’mon.”

   “I… yes, I…” you stutter out, unable to say anything else as he barely slides the waistband down, just enough to where you feel the gentle breeze blow against your nearly exposed pussy. 

   Oh, fuck. 

   “You want me to make you feel good? Want me to take all that stress and pent up energy away?” he asks as his eyes start to pulse into dark pits. “Hmm?” he hums as he brushes the heel of his palm into your dripping center, making you jump at the jolt of electricity. 

   “Please. Fuck, Joel. Please,” you beg as he hikes your light blue skirt over your hips and presses his thumb into your clothed folds that are already soaking for him. 

   “Goddamn, darlin’. Already so fuckin’ wet for me,” he hisses as he slips his thumb inside the lace material and brushes his thumb against your soft folds. 

   He groans as he feels just how wet you are for him. “You have no idea how good I’m gonna make you feel, baby. Just lay back and let me take care of this pretty pussy,” he smirks. 

   He grabs the edges of the material and slides them fluidly down your legs as he throws them to the ground. He stands back and rakes his hand painfully through his scruff as he knits his eyebrows together and groans at the sight of you. 

   “Goddamn it, you’re so pretty, baby. Fuck,” he groans as he pushes your knees apart and stares at your pulsing core, a look of pure pain crossing his tan face. 

   He falls to his knees on the bed of grass as he slowly starts to trail kisses up your legs. He starts at your ankle, slowly working his way up the side of your knee, then pressing sweet kisses to the inside of your thighs as he works you up nice and slow. 

   He slowly blows a wave of air across your exposed center and lavishly runs his hands up and down your thighs as you feel more slick start to form between your thighs. 

   “Oh, baby. Fuckin’ drippin’ for me. You look so sweet, just wanna eat you up,” he groans as he places a tender kiss into the crease of your thigh and then slowly, slowly reaches your center, right where you want him. 

   “Oh,” you breathe out, forgetting how to take even breaths as your body starts to shake. 

   “Eyes on me, darlin’. Want you to watch,” he purrs, his eyes dark pits as he hooks his meaty hands around your thighs and smirks up at you. “Eyes. On. Me.”

   He slowly licks a thick stripe from your dripping hole and glides it up against your soft folds as he repeats the action two more times. You let out a breathy moan as his tongue makes all your nerve endings come alive. Wildfire burning through your body, begging him to give you more. 

   “Joel,” you moan as he teases the tops of your folds with his large tongue, smirking as his drool runs down your pussy. 

   “You taste so fuckin’ sweet, darlin’,” he coos out. “Just hang on.”    

   He lifts his mouth and slowly lets saliva that’s pooling in his mouth drip over your throbbing pussy, letting the warm sensation cover you in bliss. He breathes in deep and then spits on you as he meticulously rubs the fluid around and around and around, rubbing his thumb in tight circles around your aching clit. 

   You writhe against him and part your lips open, knitting your eyebrows together as the sensation makes your head feel dizzy and light. You choke on another moan as he stares deeply into your eyes as he circles and circles and circles. Rubbing just the right areas as more slick drips down his calloused fingers. 

   “Joel,” you whine as his calloused thumb presses deeper against your clit. 

   “That’s right, baby. I’ve got you. Hang on, sweetheart. Not gonna stop till I have you coming on my tongue,” he growls.”

   He plunges his soft lips down on you as he parts your folds with his fingers and laps soft circles against your puffy clit. You moan as he devours you and tilt your head back in pure bliss as you stare up at the fluffy cotton candy clouds. 

   You flutter your eyelashes as you tilt your head to look down at him, his blown out pupils staring up at you wide-eyed as he feasts on you nice and slow. He pulls your throbbing bundle of nerves into his warm mouth, and it takes everything in you to keep from coming in that instant. 

   He slips two fingers inside your dripping hole as he plunges deep inside you, curling his fingers up to hit that spot that makes you see stars in your blurry vision. You twist your fingers into his tousled curls as he moans against you, pulling your clit back into his mouth as he sucks you down, down, down. 

   You hear the squelching noises of his fingers plunging in and out of you, feel the pressure building in your spine as he licks and sucks your glistening clit. You feel like you’re on cloud nine, feel as if it’s just you and Joel in this fantasy land, feel as if you could come undone at any moment as the wet noises seem to echo through the blowing breeze. 

   You feel your walls start to clench up as he quickens his pace of his fingers inside you, licking long stripes up your core as you moan out his name again and again and again. You’re so close, so close to spilling yourself all over him as you tighten your fingers through his curls and arch your back off the matte blue mushroom. 

   “C’mon, baby. Come for me. Let me see you let go,” he coaxes as he presses against your spongy walls and pulls your clit into his mouth as he sucks you deep. That’s what does it for you. 

   “Fuck, Joel. I… I’m coming,” you moan as you feel your walls clench up one more time and then release, white hot liquid spilling down as he laps you up nice and slow. 

   Your vision goes black as you tilt your head to the sky and let your body ease into a relaxed state as you come down from your orgasm. You feel your breath come in rapid waves as you fight for air to build back in your lungs, your core still on fire for Joel as he laps up all your slick in between your legs. 

   He stands tall as his large body leans over you, your legs straddling around him as he stands in between your thighs. Your slick glistens on his patchy scruff and mustache, and it makes you that much wetter as your eyes trail over his ravenous features. 

   “Did so good, baby. So good,” he praises as he brings one hand to caress your cheek affectionately, making you tingle all over at the fondness of the touch. 

   “That was… that was incredible,” you gasp out as he smirks down at you, the warm flecks of his eyes shining down on you like a golden ray of sunshine. 

   Warm. He’s so warm. 

   “Glad I could indulge in your fantasies,” he chuckles as he brings his hand back down your side, his fingers tracing delicately down your hip as he makes his way over your thigh, slowly trailing up and down in slow motions. 

   “You’re gonna give me another one,” he smirks, his pupils expanding into black pits as he brushes against your sensitive folds.

   “Another one? But I’m so sensitive, Joel. I don’t know if I can…” you whine, panting between breaths as you think about him giving you another mind blowing orgasm. 

   “Oh, trust me. You can and you will,” he growls between his teeth as he starts to move his fingers up and down your folds again, starting a fire down in the pits of your core. “Tell me yes, sweetheart. Tell me it’s okay.”

   Your mind fogs over as you nod your head and whisper out, “Okay. Okay.”

   “You trust me?” he asks with a cocked brow, his fingers slowly gliding up and down your center, already building slick against his thick fingers. 

   “I trust you,” you nod, biting your lip as you hold back a moan. 

   “Yeah ya do,” he smirks. “Don’t hold back now, baby. Wanna hear those loud moans.”

   He presses his calloused fingers deeper against your center, spreading your folds as he starts to circle his slick coated fingers against your puffy clit. He spits down again on your pussy and gathers the spit on his fingers, making you more soaked as you hear the sticky, wet sounds of thick fingers against drenched skin. 

   He hovers over you, leaning against his arm as he stares intensely down at you with those big black pits of his. Your mouth drops open as he flicks against your clit faster, faster, faster until your eyes start to roll back as you feel the blood rushing between your legs. 

   “That’s a good girl,” he praises as you moan at the sweet words, nearly blacking out as the intense sensations wash over your entire body. You grab onto his flannel shirt as you fight for your life, your second orgasm so close to breaking that you feel like you’re about to lose control. 

   “C’mon, give it to me. Let me see you come again, baby,” he coos as he presses down harder onto your throbbing clit, his hand moving side to side faster and faster as you feel your back arch off the velvet mushroom. 

   It all happens so fast. You let the vibrations buzz through your body, starting at your head that slips slowly down your body as you curl your toes and roll your eyes back. You feel the hot heat start to slide out of you as you release for him, more come pouring out than last time as you feel the ecstasy encase your entire body. 

   “Oh, that’s a good fuckin’ girl. Goddamn,” he moans as he slows his fingers to gentle strokes and makes sure he works you through your orgasm entirely. 

   You lay there with half hooded eyes, your fingers still curled around his flannel as you slowly release and drop them down next to you. You feel satiated, satisfied, but yet you still want more. 

   When he starts to back away, you grab his wrist and prevent him from moving out of your range. “Wait, Joel. I need… want more,” you gasp out, your breath winded and tired as you fight to stay completely in one piece. 

   He knits his eyebrows together and turns your head to face him, his large fingers cupping your chin as he stares down at you with intense eyes. “You want more?” he asks softly. 

   “Yes, yes,” you whine out, almost embarrassed by how needy you sound. 

   He chuckles and shakes his head back and forth. “Think you can handle it, sweetheart? Not too tired?” he asks with a sly smirk as the crow’s feet pull at the corners of his eyes. 

   He’s so fucking perfect. 

   “Mm-mm,” you shake your head, your hand reaching for his flannel as he lets you grasp on to him. 

   “Alright, but you asked for it, darlin’. Gonna give ya what you need,” he smirks as he slowly unbuckles his leather belt, unzipping the zipper of his denim jeans as he slides them and his black briefs down, letting his leaking cock press against his soft tummy. 

   You gasp at how massive he is, the precum spilling over as you wonder what it tastes like, what it feels like inside you.

   He crawls on top of your body, crowding your space as you feel overwhelmed by the smell of his woodsy, pine scent. It intoxicates you, drives you mad as you fist at his flannel shirt, desperate to get him as close as humanly possible without completely jumping into your skin. 

   “Joel,” you whine, pawing at the flannel material as you beg him to take you. 

   He cups your chin in his large palm and looks you deep in the eyes. “Relax, sweetheart. Let me give you what you need,” he coos. 

   He lines up with your entrance as he teases you, sliding the tip of his cock up and down your folds as he collects your slick and his spit, already starting a fire in your core as he brushes past your sensitive clit. 

   “Fuck,” you hiss as his teasing torments you. 

   “Mmm, that’s right, gorgeous. Gonna take ya now, gonna make all your worries disappear,” he whispers as he hooks your legs over his shoulders and slides his slippery cock inside you. 

   Your mind goes numb, your brain stilling as the air seems to shift colorfully around you. It’s like the clouds turn pink, misty blue as colors swirl around your vision, making it look like you’re inside a make believe dream. Ecstasy, blinding pleasure erupts through your body every time he ruts up deeper inside you. His cock thrusting, thrusting, thrusting, so deep that it hits that spot that has your ears ringing with white noise. 

   He gives, gives, gives himself to you, making you cry out with blissful moans as he bends your knees to your chest and fucks into you deeper, harder than before. The sensation builds, your third orgasm right on the edge every time he gives more of himself to you, ravaging you until you can barely take it anymore. 

   “You’re so fucking beautiful moaning my name, sweetheart. Squeezin’ me so tight,” he breathes out raggedly as sweat builds against his forehead, making his curls stick together as he breaks the distance and crashes his lips down on top of yours. 

   The kiss is hungry, needy, starving as your tongue collides with his; his hips rocking back and forth between yours. You taste yourself on him, let the salty, sweet flavor run down your glossy lips as your moans twist together in unison. A sweet melody that fills the air as you get lost in each other’s ecstasy. 

   He bottoms out in you, thrusting faster and faster until you’re on the verge of tears. You’re so sensitive, your body on the edge of spilling again as you hear the slick slap of skin on skin through the air. 

   “Joel, I’m gonna… I’m about to…” you cry out as a tear licks at the corner of your eye. You’re not going to last any longer. 

   “Come for me, baby. Let me feel you,” he coaxes against your lips, his forehead leaning on yours as he speeds up his thrusts. He hits your spongy spot one more time, and that has you clawing the back of his neck as your hands tangle in the hair at the scruff of his neck. 

   You clench up around his thick cock and then spill all over him, milky hot come leaking down your thighs as he groans against your lips as you echo a low moan back to him. 

   “Fuck, that’s a good girl,” he praises as he thrusts deeper, deeper, deeper until he’s bottom out time and time again. You’re on cloud nine as you feel his cock drive into you, feel your body go numb against his hold on you as you feel him start to lose control. 

   “Gonna-fuck, I’m gonna come. I’m gonna-” His mouth drops open and his eyebrows furrow together as he moans out your name, thick ropes of come painting your insides as your eyes roll back at the warm sensation. 

   He ruts up once more in you, spilling his entire seed as you both breathe in foggy, dense air. Arousal and the smell of sex envelop the wind, blowing down your body as you smell nothing but you and him mixing together to paint the skies red. He takes a minute of just keeping his cock inside you as he runs a hand down your cheek affectionately, warm eyes sinking into yours as his lips curl into the most beautiful smile you’ve ever seen. 

   “Did so good for me, my girl. So good,” he praises as he cups your cheek and plants a gentle kiss across your lips. You drink him down, wanting to remember how he tastes like honeysuckle and sugar cookies. He tastes like something you want to imprint in your memory. 

   When he releases, he slowly slides out of you. You moan at the loss of him, but he scoops you up in his arms when he lays flat on his back. He feels warm, secure, safe. He feels like someplace you want to stay forever. Your eyelids start to flutter closed, your body unable to stay awake any longer. You’re so tired, so worn out from the sex. You just need to rest a little, let your mind enter into the thick fog. 

   “Joel, I’m so tired,” you slur as your words start mixing together, your eyelids growing heavy against your eyes.

   “Go to sleep, baby. I’ve got you. I’ve got you,” he hums out, his strong arms pulling you closer into his chest as you let your mind fade into the darkness. Your vision goes black as you fall asleep instantly, knowing you’re safe in Joel’s arms. 

-

   When you start to wake up from your nap, you smell the scent of fresh roses lingering in the air and hear the sounds of cheerful birds chirping in the distance. As you start to shift your body and start to flutter your eyes open, you feel movement underneath you. You feel the broad chest underneath you as he slowly breathes in and out, feeling how warm he is with your fingers tangled in his soft flannel. 

   When your eyes finally open, he smiles up as you as his fingers rake down your scalp. “There you are, darlin’. Was starting to wonder when you’d wake up. You were out for a couple hours,” he says with a deep, sleepy edge to his voice. He must’ve fallen asleep at some point, too. 

   You hum out against his chest, your chin laying on his chest as you look up at his warm eyes, those eyes that make you melt with longing. “You just wore me out so much that I couldn’t stay awake any longer. You really know how to get a girl to fall asleep, huh?” you ask with a smile widening on your face. 

   He laughs and hugs you tighter to him. “Just givin’ ya what you needed, sweetheart. Happy to oblige anytime,” he smirks as you laugh again and shake your head. 

   You relax against his body as his hand runs gently up and down your scalp, sending you into a trance-like state as you rest your hands under your chin and stare up at him. His eyes are so warm, the smile that’s curled at the corners of his mouth sending sparks down your body. He feels so familiar, like you’ve known him for much longer than a day. 

   Your eyebrows knit together as you study his features, tracing the lines on his forehead with your eyes as you look deep into those golden brown irises. And something like a flash of lightning hits your mind, a distant memory flashing before your eyes as you go wide-eyed. You do know him. You’ve seen him before. You’ve been here before. 

   “You… this isn’t the first time I’ve seen you before, is it?” you whisper as your throat runs dry. “I’ve been here before, haven’t I?” You know him. You know him. 

   He sighs, a held in breath leaving his lips as he smiles affectionately at you. “Yes. You’ve been here before, sweetheart. This isn’t the first time.” It’s like all the weight is emptied from his body as his face relaxes and his chest feels less tense now. 

   “I knew you all along…” you whisper out incredulously. 

   “You did, baby. Welcome back. Didn’t know if you’d ever find your way again,” he says sadly as his eye color changes to a somber brown. 

   “But how did I… how did I even get here?” 

   “You were drowning, sweetheart. You needed an escape. You unlocked the door. You found us again. We’ve been waiting so long, so very long,” he whispers as he hooks a loose curl behind your ear, his eyes slipping into yours as he rests his forehead on yours, a form of intimacy that feels like home. He feels like home. 

   You lay there breathing each other’s air like oxygen, your lips tangling against each other as you lap up his honeysuckle taste, burning the taste into your memory as if it’s the most important thing in the world. 

   After a few minutes of getting lost in each other, he helps you up as you stand firm against the lush green grass. He helps you slide the lace panties back into place, covering your sticky center as you fall back into his chest, wrapping your arms around his broad back. 

   You hear a faint buzzing a few feet away from you, the sound like white noise in your ears. When you turn, you see an open doorway as painted red roses spill over the dark entryway. Your eyebrows crease together as you look at it carefully. It’s calling to you, almost like it wants you to follow. 

   Joel sighs, a defeated sound rasping from his throat as he looks at you with sad eyes. “Think it’s time for you to go back, sweetheart,” he huffs, his calloused fingers twisting around yours as he holds you close. 

   “Go back? But I just got here,” you say with wide eyes, feeling your stomach drop as you take in the meaning of his words. 

   “I know, darlin’, I know.” His face contorts with agony, his eyes on the verge of falling apart, but he puts himself back together as he cups your chin. “You’re needed back at the party. They’re waiting for you,” he says as you hear the distant noise of champagne glasses and classic music floating through the air. The party, it was still happening?

   “But I’ve been here for hours, how is it still going on?” you ask with your nose scrunched up in question. 

   “Time is different here, it moves slower, much slower than the outside world,” he says as his honey eyes flick to the open door. “Wonderland moves on its own time. Funny thing isn’t it? How time works.”

   “Yeah, very strange,” you say with your words drifting off as you stare at the door. The door that’ll take you back to reality, to a place you don’t want to go back to. 

   He sees your distant glance and pulls your face back to him as he looks distinctly into your glistening eyes. “You need to go back, baby. Go finish the party.” He’s telling you that you need to go, but his hollow words are drifting into the void. He doesn’t want you to go, not really. 

   “But what if I don’t want to go back…” you say quietly with a locked jaw, tears pricking at the backs of your eyes. 

   Let me stay. Please, let me stay. 

   “The door is open, sweetheart. It won’t close again till you go through,” he says with a pained expression, his calloused fingers burning your skin as he glides his fingers over your jawline delicately. 

   You nod your head slowly, telling him you understand. Your eyes wade into the painted door, but your eyes snap back up to his. “What if I want to come back? How do I come back?”

   He smiles down at you as he pulls a chain out of his back pocket, a glistening necklace shining brightly in the sun as he opens up your palm and closes your fingers over it. “With this. This is the key that opens Wonderland. It’s yours now. Anytime you want to come back, all you have to do is ask. Think of me, think of Wonderland and hold the key. The door will open for you. All you have to do is ask.”

   You open your palm and trace the edges of the golden key with your fingers, letting the cool metal stain your skin as you see the intricate letters carved into the gold. Wonderland is written in cursive letters on the side as they reflect against the sunlight. Wonderland. The key that’ll take you back to wildflowers, twisting paths, and Joel. 

   He takes the necklace from your open palm and unlatches it as he circles behind you and places the necklace against your chest. “Hair up for me, sweetheart,” he asks as you quickly oblige. You lift your hair and let him latch the necklace into place as the cool metal key sears into your skin. You lift the key and smile, your whole world now in your hands. 

   He steps in front of you and cups your chin, letting his thumb trace your bottom lip as his eyes sink deep into your own. “Well, I guess this is goodbye, for now,” you say sadly as you let your hand linger on his flannel, hoping you can stay like this forever instead of going back to your boring dinner party. 

   “Hey,” he says as he brings your face closer to his, leveling his eyes with yours, “this isn’t goodbye, sweetheart. Not even close.” He leans down and kisses you deeply as you latch onto his flannel, promising yourself that you’ll be back. This isn’t goodbye, it couldn’t be. 

   He releases your lips and walks you to the door. As you look in, you see the long, lit up hallway that you came from earlier. You can hear the music, hear the muffled voices down the hall as you see fluorescent lights from the ballroom. This was it, you had to go. 

   Before you step through, Joel grabs your wrist and turns you around to face him. “I had the most perfect day with you, sweetheart. I can’t wait to see those beautiful eyes of yours again,” he says with a curled smile on his lips. 

   “Yeah?” 

   “Yeah.”

   You run your fingers through his tousled curls and hold his gaze just a little longer, memorizing every single golden fleck in his irises as you take in his chocolate eyes. “Thank you for showing me Wonderland again. I can’t believe I forgot. How could I have forgotten you,” you say wide-eyed. You’d never forget him, how did you forget in the first place when he was your favorite thing in the entire world. 

   “Guess you got lost in the outside world. I’m so glad you found your way back to me, my love.”

   My love. The words crash into you like a colliding car crash, hitting your insides with those familiar words that sound like music to your ears. My love. 

   Before you can question his words, he kisses you gently on the forehead and shoves you through the door as it closes behind you. You end up back in the long hallway as the sound of faded music seeps down the corridor. When you turn back around, there’s no door, only the painted white wall that burns into your eyes. You sigh and turn back around. 

   When you turn, your breath hitches. In the center of the hanging mirror with gold coated around the winding edges, you see Joel staring back at you. Your eyes widen as you walk up to the clear mirror. He looks like he’s standing right there, as if you can reach him with your mind.

   You reach your arm up and place your palm flat against the glass, his hand mirroring yours as you wish with all your might you could just feel his calloused fingers again pressed against your skin. You can’t feel him through the mirror though, he’s only a reflection in the glass that you so want to slip into. 

   He gives you a small smile as nods his head in the direction of the party. You turn toward the end of the hall, your eyes flicking toward the crowded room as you hear laughs and loud voices carry down the corridor. When you look back to the mirror, you only see your reflection. Joel’s gone. You hold back a tear as you sigh out heavily and turn back around. You guess you have to go back in there. 

   When you turn from the mirror and start to head down the hall, you gasp as you see a small blue butterfly fluttering its wings on the back of your hand. You take a closer look and go wide-eyed. 

   “Absolem?” you ask. You see what looks to be a gleam in his eye as he suddenly flies off and disappears into a dark corner of the room. You smile, feeling your insides calm down a bit as a piece of Wonderland slips into the real world. It’s a sign, a promise that you will be back to Wonderland. 

   You head down the long hallway as your click of your heels echo down the corridor, keeping your wide grin stretched across your face. When you turn into the sea of jewel cladded necks and pressed suits, you can’t help but think of painted roses and honey brown eyes. And it’s then you know you can get through the rest of the evening because you went to Wonderland. Your escape, your dream, your sanctuary. 

   Wonderland. You’d be back, you just know it. 

   

When you walk back into your cozy apartment and shut the door, you flick on the dim lights and start to walk to your room. You play with the golden key that’s latched around your neck, tracing the smooth edges as your thumb glides across the word Wonderland. 

   Wonderland. God, you wish you could go back right now. You want to, you need to. 

   Suddenly, a thousand feelings crash into you all at once. It’s like you get struck by lightning, zapping your brain into a dense fog as if you suddenly wake up from a deep sleep. You remember, you remember it all. 

   You close your eyes and the vivid pictures paint your mind. You can see you and Joel back in Wonderland painting pictures by the pond, can see yourself tumbling in the wildflowers with him, can taste his sugar coated lips after he fed you a piece of cake, can smell the rose scented air as he told you he loved you that first time in a bed of white and crimson red roses. It wasn’t all a dream. It was real, he is real. 

   Joel, your love. How could you forget?

   When you open your eyes, you jump as you see exactly what you were pining for all evening. Joel. Joel’s leaning against your cream colored walls, his arms crossed over his chest as he smirks up at you with those honey glazed eyes that you can’t get enough of. 

   “Joel?” you breathe out, your voice cracking as you can’t believe he’s in your room at this very moment. 

   “Miss me already, darlin’?” he chuckles, his lips coated in warmth as the door to Wonderland stands wide open behind him, different shades of roses and flying butterflies leaking into your dimly lit bedroom. 

   “How are you here?” you ask amazed as your eyes go wide. 

   He’s here. He’s here. 

   “You were calling to me,” he says as he nods to your key hooked around your neck that your finger is still sliding against. “You haven’t even been gone a couple of hours, baby. You missed me that much?” he teases as his laugh fills the room. 

   “Yes.” You let the key fall back against your chest and run over to him, slamming your body against him as you wrap your arms around him. 

   “I remember, Joel. I remember it all,” you say out of breath as a tear falls down your cheek. “How could I forget. How could I fucking forget?” you ask wildly as another hot tear runs down your face. You feel his calloused thumb wipe the tears away as he lifts your face up to his. 

   “It’s alright, baby. It’s all okay now. You just got lost inside the chaos of the outside world. I’m so happy you made it back, my love. I’ve missed you so so much,” he coos as he pulls you into his chest and runs a hand soothingly up and down your back, calming the storm that swirled inside you just seconds ago. 

   “Take me home,” you beg as you run your fingers through the edge of his scruff, causing him to groan in response. 

   “C’mon, sweetheart. Let’s go home.” He grabs your hand and pulls you through the wide open door, watching it close tightly behind you as it locks in place and disappears behind a bed of painted white roses. 

   Joel smiles and pulls you to his chest as he hooks his hands around your hips. “Sweetheart,” he coos as he gently cups the sides of your face and brings his forehead down against yours, “please tell me you’re never leaving again. Stay, stay with me. Stay in Wonderland where you belong. We’ve all missed you so much, but especially me. I’ve waited for your return for so long. I can’t bear to lose you again.”

   You smile up at him as you brush your lips over his, breathing in his honeysuckle taste as you nod your head slowly. “I’m never leaving again. Never ever. I’m staying here with the white rabbit, with the Cheshire Cat, with everyone. But most importantly I’m staying with you, my love.” You echo his words of my love back to him as he smiles down at you. 

   “Welcome home, my love. I’m never letting you go again.”

   He crashes his lips down to yours as you melt into his touch, his taste, his scent. You feel the warm air encase you as you get lost in him, in all of him. And you know now that this is where you belong. You belong in Wonderland with Joel. 

   And so you begin your lifetime full of adventures with the best way you know possible, getting lost in Joel, in your favorite Wonderland.   

Tags in case you want to read 🩷: @littlevenicebitch69 @lotusbxtch @keylimebeag @blueseastorm @akah565 @r3dheadedwitch @laurrrra @burntheedges @msjarvis @dugiioh @pedrostories @vee-bees-blog @forgetmenotsexy @copiasghoulfriend @vividispunk @strawberri-blonde @thischarmingmandalorian @sawymredfox @reddedmiller @tuquoquebrute @joelalorian @ozarkthedog @casa-boiardi @morallyinept @kirsteng42 @amyispxnk

[tteokdoroki]

𑊡˚+₊🍼✦ — pretty hands + katsuki bakugou.

૮ ͈>◡< ͈ა warnings — fluff, gn!reader, you paint his nails + some bakugou appreciation tbh.

every part of bakugou is pretty— it would take a fool not to notice how gorgeous he is.

with his lopsided grin and hooded ruby eyes, his golden skin that shimmers under golden hour. his rounded cheeks with sunspoted freckles so faint you might think the gods smudged them while creating him, not to mention the shape to his body— as if he was carved from the finest stone, made by those very same gods. your boyfriend is the epitome of perfect, you know that.

but his hands have always been your favourite part of him.

they’re burned, rough to the touch especially on his palms— callous when they cascade over the curve of your hips and the expanse of your skin. but katsuki’s hands are beautiful. warm when you hold them even though he thinks that they’re sweaty, gentle when he tilts your chin up to kiss you or guides you in public to make sure that you don’t get hurt.

katsuki’s hands…so capable of destroying are also able to mend your heart, touch your soul and make you feel alive. his hands work so hard to provide you with a life of comfort— you can’t help but love them and admire them as if they’re a work of art.

so when you bring his hands up to your lips to blow on the nail varnish you’ve done for him— you can’t help but let praise slip from between your lips. “you have pretty hands, kats,” you mumble quietly as you reach for the bottle of black polish you’d been using on him.

“hah? you’re just sayin’ that cause you did my nails all pretty,” the blonde smirks at you, looking up from his phone he’d been scrolling through with his free hand. “can you use the chrome powder on some? i like it when there’s a bit’a silver.” bakugou almost pouts like a puppy when be asks and you giggle while reaching for it— decorating his nails some more.

“not because i’ve done your nails, but because they’re loving—“ you take the phone from his grip and lace your fingers together— your chest bristling at the connection and the warmth of bakugou’s hand against yours. “they’re soft, they protect me and hold me so gently. i love your hands,” pausing, you lean over the mess of scattered nail polish bottles and chrome powders— steady hand between your boyfriend’s crossed legs. “i love you, katsuki bakugou.”

“oi! don’t smudge my nails.” bakugou grunts lowly in disapproval though he tilts his head upwards to close the gap between you both— meeting your anticipating lips halfway. the kiss is slow, thoughtful and loving, a physical manifestation of everything you feel for one another. “would hate to ruin all the hard work y’put into makin’ my hands look even prettier.”

you know that bakugou is teasing, but you can tell by the way he admires the patterns you’ve done on his nails; that he appreciates the compliments.

[x-uno]

Stolen Glances and Culinary Charms. PT3

notes : DREAMY SIGH FOLLOWED BY AGONIZING SOB. this took me awhile to write oml ( had writers block ;v; ) butttt I managed to finish it tonight !! sooo yay me!!

<< 𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚟𝚒𝚘𝚞𝚜 | 𝚗𝚎𝚡𝚝 >> | 𝙼𝙰𝚂𝚃𝙴𝚁𝙻𝙸𝚂𝚃

THE GOING MERRY WAS CURRENTLY DOCKED AT A QUAINT ISLAND'S HARBOR, the scent of adventure lingered in the salty sea breeze, and the air was filled with the tantalizing aroma of food wafting from the nearby restaurant. It was a sight for sore eyes after days at sea. 

The crew disembarked, their eyes wide with wonder at the charming coastal town. A Restaurant was perched on a cliff overlooking the bay, and its soft, golden lights beckoned like stars in the night. 

Nami gathered everyone around and issued a gentle reminder, ''Everyone meet back here by 6, okay? - And please, try not to get into fights.'' she added with a pointed look at the male members of the crew, eliciting a soft chuckle from you as you stood by her side.

The boys nodded in agreement, with some grinning sheepishly at Nami's warning about avoiding fights. With that, the group dispersed to explore the town, leaving you and Nami to head off together.

She had insisted on helping you get ready for the evening, promising that the right outfit would make a lasting impression on Sanji. 

The sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in hues of orange and pink as you followed Nami through the winding streets of the coastal town. The soft glow of lanterns illuminated the cobblestone pathways, casting dancing shadows on the walls of charming shops and cafes.

Nami led you to a small, elegant boutique tucked away in a quiet corner. It was a treasure trove of beautiful dresses and accessories. She combed through the racks with the precision of a skilled treasure hunter, her fingers occasionally stopping on a particular dress, considering it before moving on.

You couldn't help but admire Nami's expertise. Her discerning eye seemed to pick up on every detail, and her sense of style was unparalleled. 

After some deliberation, Nami pulled out a dress that seemed to capture the essence of the coastal town itself. It was a flowing, pristine white dress adorned with delicate lace that mimicked the frothy waves of the sea. The fabric felt cool and luxurious to the touch, and you couldn't help but smile at the choice.

''This is the one,'' Nami declared with a satisfied grin. ''It's perfect for tonight. Just wait until Sanji sees you in this.''

With Nami's guidance, you selected a pair of elegant sandals and a necklace that complemented the dress beautifully. The transformation was remarkable, and as you looked at yourself in the boutique's mirror, you felt a newfound confidence.

Upon returning to the ship, you were met with admiration and awe from your fellow crewmates. Luffy gave a thumbs-up, Usopp praised your elegance, and even Zoro managed a rare, appreciative nod. But it was Sanji's reaction that left the deepest impression.

Sanji's eyes were widened, his cigarette nearly slipping from his lips when he caught sight of you. He was known for his impeccable taste, but he seemed genuinely captivated by your appearance. “You look absolutely breathtaking,” he said in a voice that was almost a whisper, a hint of awe in his eyes.

Your heart fluttered at his words. ''Thanks, you don’t look bad yourself.''

As the crew entered the restaurant, the scent of freshly prepared seafood filled the air, and the evening was filled with laughter, delicious food, and shared adventures. The restaurant's interior was just as enchanting as its exterior, with dimmed lights casting a warm, intimate glow over the wooden beams and nautical decor.

You couldn't help but feel a sense of excitement and gratitude as you settled in at the long, polished table with them. Nami regaled everyone with tales of the island's history and culture, her eyes occasionally meeting yours with a knowing twinkle.

As the night continued at the restaurant, you found yourself drawn to the bar, its soft, warm lights casting a gentle glow on the polished wooden surface. It beckoned you like a siren, promising a moment of solitude and reflection amidst the lively atmosphere.

Leaving the laughter and conversations of your fellow crewmates you excused yourself from the table with a polite smile, before making your way through the bustling restaurant toward the inviting glow of the bar area.

Taking a seat on one of the cushioned stools, you found yourself lost in thought, gazing at the array of colorful bottles lining the shelves. The bartender, a friendly and experienced soul, approached with a warm smile.

''What can I get you tonight?''

You contemplated your choice for a moment before deciding on a signature cocktail of the house. The bartender nodded appreciatively and set to work, expertly mixing the drink. As he worked, you couldn't help but feel a sense of peace settle over you, as if the world outside had momentarily ceased to exist.

Sanji, ever watchful, couldn't help but notice your departure from the table. His concern for your well-being overcame his hesitation, and he decided to join you at the bar. With a quick excuse, he left the table and made his way toward you.

However, just as he was about to reach your side, he paused abruptly. His heart sank as he noticed you engaged in lively conversation with a stranger. You were laughing, sharing stories, and seemed entirely engrossed in the conversation.

As he stood at a distance, watching you engage in conversation with a stranger at the bar, a mixture of emotions washed over him. Concern for your well-being had driven him to follow you, but now he found himself feeling a bit uneasy. He didn't want to intrude on your moment of solitude, but the sight of you enjoying yourself with someone he didn't know raised questions in his mind.

He decided to give you some space and waited nearby, keeping a watchful eye on the situation. As the minutes passed, he observed your body language and the interaction between you and the stranger. Sanji knew you could handle yourself, but he couldn't help but feel protective.

As Sanji continued to keep an eye on you from a distance, he suddenly felt a gentle tap on his shoulder. Turning around, he was met with the sight of a young woman standing before him, a warm and inviting smile on her face. She looked to be about his age, and her presence was both confident and charming.

"Hey there, I couldn't help but notice you standing here all alone. Would you like to dance?"

Sanji, who had been focused on watching over you, was taken aback for a moment. However, he couldn't deny the allure of the moment, and he appreciated the girl's courage in approaching him. With a suave smile and a slight bow, he replied, "Well, it would be my pleasure."

You took another sip of your cocktail, your gaze lingering on the dance floor. Sanji's graceful moves and the easy chemistry between him and the girl were impossible to ignore. You found yourself torn between wanting to see him happy and feeling a pang of envy at the connection he was forging with someone else.

The woman’s laughter and Sanji's charismatic charm only intensified your conflicting emotions. You tried to push the jealousy aside - After all, you were having your own engaging conversation at the bar, and there was no reason for you to feel this way.

However, despite your best efforts, the jealousy lingered, gnawing at the edges of your thoughts. 

"You really should slow down with that," Dos, the kind stranger you had been talking to, spoke in a gentle but firm tone.  "It's a strong drink, and you don't want to overdo it."

You waved off his advice with a carefree gesture, taking another swig of your drink ''Let’s dance!''

The effects of the cocktails you had consumed began to take hold. Your movements became a bit unsteady, and your laughter grew louder and more exuberant. 

As you danced, the world around you seemed to blur, and the music's infectious rhythm took hold of your senses. You twirled and swayed, laughter spilling from your lips.

Sanji watched you and Dos from a distance, concern etched on his face as he observed your intoxicated state. He couldn't help but worry about your well-being, and when he saw you stumble slightly while dancing, he decided it was time to step in.

With a determined stride, he approached the pair, his voice polite but laced with a hint of concern. "Hey," he said, addressing Dos with a friendly smile, "Mind if I steal her from you for a moment? She's had a bit too much to drink, and I'd like to make sure she's okay."

Dos, understanding the situation, nodded with a kind and understanding expression. "Of course," he replied. "Take care of your friend. She's a great dancer, by the way." He gave you a nod and a pat on the shoulder before stepping back, allowing Sanji to take over.

Sanji's eye twitched in irritation before turning his attention to you, offering a supportive arm. "Come on, darling," he said gently, "let's get you back to the ship. We wouldn't want you feeling too rough in the morning."

“What? No!”

Sanji sighed inwardly, recognizing that your intoxicated state might make you a bit stubborn. He maintained his composure, trying to reason with you in a patient tone. "I know you're having a good time, but you've had enough to drink, and I don't want you to wake up with a terrible hangover," he explained, his concern still evident in his eyes.

You pouted and swayed a bit on your feet, clearly not in the mood to leave the lively atmosphere of the restaurant. "But the music is so fun, and Dos is a great dance partner!" you protested, clinging to the bar for support.

Sanji visibly frowned at your response, continuing to try to convince you to leave the restaurant and head back to the ship for your own well-being. He couldn't help but feel a bit envious of the attention you were giving Dos and the time you were spending together, especially in your drunken state.

However, just as he was about to insist more, you surprised him by wrapping your arms around him. The sudden embrace caught him off guard, and he blinked in surprise, his irritation now forgotten.

You looked up at him with a playful glint in your eye, your smile a bit mischievous. "Sanji," you said, your voice warm and inviting, "Why don't we dance together for a little while? I promise to go back to the ship after this dance."

Sanji's heart skipped a beat at your unexpected invitation. He couldn't resist your charm and the genuine affection he saw in your eyes. His irritation and jealousy melted away as he reciprocated your embrace, holding you close.

A smile graced his lips as he nodded in agreement. "Of course, my dear," he replied, his voice softening. "I'd be delighted to dance with you."

As Sanji led you in graceful twirls and elegant steps, it was clear that his skill as a dancer was remarkable, even in his slightly tipsy state. His movements were fluid and precise, his confidence shining through as he guided you across the dance floor.

"You know, Sanji," you began. "if we ever get tired of the pirate life, we could always become a dance duo. We'd make a fortune!"

Sanji couldn't help but play along with your mischievous idea. He flashed a grin and replied, "Well, my dear, I've heard rumors of the Grand Line hosting various dance competitions. Perhaps we could establish a reputation as the most stylish pirate dance duo to ever grace those waters."

You both chuckled, the idea of swaying and twirling your way to fame in the pirate world sounding both ridiculous and enticing.

You continued, "And just think, our crewmates can be our backup dancers. We'll be unstoppable!"

Sanji nodded with enthusiasm. "Exactly! Nami could handle the finances, Zoro could... well, maybe not Zoro. But we'll figure something out."

Your head tilted back, and the room was filled with the sound of your laughter.

Sanji, in the midst of his actions, came to a gradual halt, his eyes locked onto yours. You, in response, blinked and offered a soft smile in his direction. The feel of your skin against his, the warmth of your gaze, it all etched itself into his memory like a haunting melody that grew louder and more insistent with each attempt he made to forget it. 

There was nothing in the world as beautiful as the sound of your laughter, he realized.

"Sanji?" Your voice, a soft and affectionate whisper, flowed effortlessly from your lips, reaching his ears like a melody he couldn't resist.

His name on your tongue was a sweet symphony, a cherished melody that he longed to hear over and over.

He leaned closer, his fingers gently entangling in your hair, savoring the intoxicating sensation of being close to you. In this moment, nothing else mattered but the warmth of your presence, the tenderness in your voice.

...and just as he was about to close the distance between your lips, the world around you seemed to blur.

In that suspended moment something inexplicable happened. It was as if time itself had taken a sudden twist, and reality slipped through your fingers like grains of sand. Everything became fragmented, and your consciousness spiraled into darkness.

@narutoskz @honnelander @browneyedhufflepuff

taglist: reply to be added !

© 2023 x-uno ── all rights reserved. do not copy, translate, edit, alter, or redistribute my work. 

[halfmoth-halfman]

a designer dress from heaven and your dirty wedding ring - prologue

Pairing: Mob Boss!Price x F!Reader Word Count: 1.4k Warnings: none Disclaimer: I do not own modern warfare or any of the modern warfare characters. A/N: it's finally here, the mob boss!price series! before we start, i want to give a special thanks to the fabulous @mvtthewmurdvck for letting me rant and rave about peaky blinders while i work on this series, to the amazing @valkyriesregalia and @bubble-dream-inc for reading and giving me feedback, and of course to @uselsshuman's discord girlies for hyping me up and giving me inspiration, i love you guys 💜!! || next

You’ve never been inside the famous club, The 141.

Your father had mentioned it to you a few times when you were a child; you remember the admiration— and jealousy— that laced his voice as he weaved tales of smoky backroom poker games and men who’d skin you alive for looking at them wrong.

You hadn’t believed him then, assuming it to be like all the other fairytales and war stories he told from that worn leather armchair— exaggerated tales meant to teach you lessons he himself never followed.

Now that you’re here, though…

You’d expected better security.

It’s almost laughable how easy it is to get inside. With no one at the front and the doors left unlocked, you waltz into a vision straight from your father’s imagination— all deep red velvet and hazy air carrying the scent of cigar smoke and danger.

It’s surprisingly modern with a vintage feel to it. You should’ve expected as much, but you still find yourself impressed. You weave through the round tables and plush chairs— elegantly decorated with brilliant red flower centerpieces sitting atop white silk tablecloths— making your way to the center of the spacious room.

You have the perfect view of the stage from here— directly in the center. It’s gorgeous: hardwood polished to perfection and bordered by thick, velvet curtains— even in the bright white of the blaring house lights, it’s a sight to behold.

“Um, you can’t be in here— we’re closed!”

The voice startles you, but you maintain your composure, turning slowly—non-threateningly— on your heels with a wide, unassuming smile. A long, half-circle bar stretches across the wall opposite the stage, just up a small set of stairs and past the various game tables, lined with golden railings. The wall behind it is completely covered in shelves of alcohol— some you’re well-acquainted with, some you recognize from your father’s private collection.

And there, gathered at the far right end of the black-quartz bar, are three men dressed in black, staring back at you.

“No one told me,” you smile, gesturing towards the front of the club, “and the doors were open.” The men groan to themselves, then mumble to each other. They glance back at you occasionally; you keep your polite smile taking in the rest of the club as they speak.

“Well,” one of the men— the American one behind the bar with a colorful sleeve tattoo and impressive facial hair— clears his throat. “We’re still closed regardless. One of the boys can see you out.”

The other two stand, the handsome one with light eyes and a brown mohawk making his way toward you.

“I have an interview-” all three pause, shooting glances at one another in silent conversation. You dig through the pockets of your denim jacket, pulling out the folded paper and holding it out to Mohawk. The room lapses into silence, so you add, “S’posed to meet with the owner about a singing gig?”

That takes the man behind the bar by surprise.

Mohawk takes the paper from you, unfolding it to read it over. His brows shoot up, eyes scanning the worn words. He turns, holding the page to the third man—the one with short, curly black hair and a scar on his left cheek— who takes it and skims over it. He glances between the paper and you, between you and the paper.

“I’ve got this,” he addresses the other two.

British, huh?

Not what you’d expected.

“This way,” he smiles at you, all charm and politeness as he folds the paper back up and leads you toward a section of booths tucked against the wall off the right side of the bar. You follow, smiling at Mohawk and Bartender as you go.

You slide in across from your interviewer, taking him in as he settles with his hands folded atop the table. He seems young, maybe a few years younger than yourself, with dark skin and kind, brown eyes.

But you can see the sharpness behind those kind eyes.

You know better than to trust a friendly gaze— your left shoulder aching at the reminder.

“Not gonna lie…I thought you’d be older,” you joke. He arches a brow, curiously narrowing his eyes. “You just seem a little young to own a club.”

“Ah, you caught me,” he laughs. “The owner’s my father, but I handle most of the staffing.”

“Oh! Well—” you extend your hand out to him, “—pleasure to meet you, Mr…?”

“Garrick, but you can just call me Kyle.” He shakes your hand, firm but not too strong—clearly practiced. You retract your hand, letting it fall into your lap. Kyle stares at you expectantly, and you give him your best smile.

It’s only a few seconds, but the silence is almost unbearably awkward.

“And you are?”

“Oh, shit. Right.” Heat floods your cheeks; you hope you haven’t fucked this up already.

“Canary.”

“Canary?” He sounds like he doesn’t believe you; you don’t blame him— you wouldn’t either.

“Yeah, like the bird.”

“I’m familiar.”

“It’s…it was an inside joke between my parents that they ended up liking a little too much,” you explain.

“That’s…sweet,” he smiles, a little less taunting now. “Is there a…last name too, Ms. Canary?”

“No,” you reply immediately, “just Canary.”

“Okay then, Ms. Canary-like-the-bird, do you…have a resumé?”

“Yes, I do.” You dig through your bag, pulling out your resumé and handing it to him. Kyle gives a hum of thanks, reading through it with those sharp eyes.

You hope it’ll do; it took you three whole hours to get it done last night.

“No references?” he asks, briefly glancing up at you.

Shit. You knew you forgot something.

“I…mostly worked solo,” you lie, “but I have a couple cards for people I’ve collaborated with.” You reach for your bag like you’re ready to dig through its contents. There are some cards in there; you’re prepared to give him those, but you’re not prepared to explain why a singer would’ve previously collaborated with a real estate agent and a tattoo parlor that’s been closed for years.

“That’s alright,” Kyle says.

Thank god.

“Have you worked in other clubs before?”

“Just one.”

He looks up, waiting for you to elaborate, but you stay silent, smiling back and adding a few bats of your lashes for good measure. He laughs, quiet and to himself, looking back at your resumé.

“I’ll have to run this by my dad—” He sets the paper down, eyes skimming over it once more, “—is there a number we can reach you at?”

“I don’t have a phone…not yet, anyway.”

Kyle looks up at you, surprise evident, but he masks it with impressive speed.

“Alright, Ms. Canary, one more question for you.” He leans back in the booth, arms crossed over his chest as he looks you over— taking in your appearance bit by bit and committing it to memory.

“What are you running from?”

“I— what?” The smile falters slightly, but you see his eyes dip down to your lips, and you know you’ve been caught.

“No last name, no references, no phone…”

“That doesn’t mean-”

“And we haven’t used these—” he holds up the flyer you’d brought with you, “—since I was a child.”

You drop the smile, hands slowly clenching into fists in your lap— your nails drag across the ripped denim of your jeans to dig into the meat of your palms.

“I’m not running, just…” you pause, searching your mind for the right words. ”Starting over.”

Kyle keeps his eyes trained on you, not moving a muscle. You can tell he wants more information.

If you weren’t so desperate…

“My ex was super shitty, and the divorce got real ugly—real fast,” you sigh. “In the end, I let him have whatever he wanted just for the chance to get out, and, as it turns out, he wanted everything. So…here I am.”

There’s a beat of silence before Kyle lets out a low whistle. “My condolences.”

You can’t help but laugh, a small weight easing off your shoulders.

“Well, the bad news is this flyer’s ancient, and we aren’t looking to hire entertainment at the moment. But the good news: we are in need of a cleaner.”

“You pay in cash?” you ask, noticing the twitch of the corner of his mouth as he bites back a smirk.

“We can keep it off the books, no problem. When can you start?”

“Tomorrow.”

“Perfect.”

[yandere-daydreams]

Thinking about how different genshin yanderes would dress you up or which ones would have complete control over everything you wear

tw - unhealthy relationships, slight dehumanization, implied captivity.

there are a lot of yanderes in genshin who'd definitely have keep some control over what you wear and, more importantly, how they mark you through what you wear (diluc always dressing you up like something sweet and delicate, ayato parading you around in his colors, childe buying you an endless stream of wedding bands for when you inevitably find a way to ""lose"" your current ring, etc.), but ei would definitely be the worse offender.

it's something about the combination of her rank and her immortality. she's not one to exploit her place at the head of her nation, but she's used to fineries, to silk and pearls and lace in excess, and while she's more of a warrior than a socialite, she still enjoyed taking a little time aside each day to dress up the lovely little darling she always keeps so close to her side. her immortality warps her perception - makes it difficult to view a mortal being like yourself as something capable of making every choice for yourself, lest you waste what little time you have deciding between violet ribbons and silver hairpins. you might pout and sulk and throw your tantrums, but there's nothing you can do to stop her from limiting your movement with golden rings and bracelets, from stealing your breath with bone-plated corsets and obi belts pulled taut against your skin, from marking you with the mitsudome and, when she can afford to be so self-indulgent, her own bruised-over lovebites. you carry evidence of her love for you, and that love is what keeps you tied to her, unable to leave her side or look for comfort in anyone aside from your captor, if only because no one would dare to touch a delicacy that the shogun's so clearly put aside for herself.

you belong to her, and it's in her best interest to keep her favorite precious gem well-polished <3

[just-jordie-things]

need ino to be the golden retriever boyfriend to my black cat girlfriend soooo bad ughhh i could just eat him

-🫧

(might've self projected too much but my god i love this)

omfg going out with ino when he's in his baggy clothes and a beanie (lowkey loser bf fit but in a cute way!!)

and you're decked out in layers of black, heavy makeup and platform docs... the two of you definitely turn some heads but my god you both love it

ino WORSHIPS his black cat gf. he's always finding a new trinket for you- spider decor... blood red pendants... dark colored nail polishes... if you have piercings he loves to pick out new jewelry for them!! he laces up your boots/corsets, handles all the little clasps of your necklaces and bracelets, and is eager to tell you that your eyeliner is perfectly even!!

(although, your lipstick might be a little messed up because he can't help but kiss the pretty color until it stains his mouth too hehe)

and oh my do you love your golden retriever bf. you love the bright colors he mixes and matches, the familiarity of his worn converse that he'll refuse to replace until the holes render them unwearable, the bright smile and dorky but fun atmosphere he brings to every space he steps into.

you're always grabbing his beanie and pulling it over his face when his staring gets you feeling too bashful- but you sort of like the way he takes it off to tousle his hair before covering it up again, so sometimes you might mess with the hat just to witness the sight. you love his skater boy sense of style and think no one pulls it off quite like him!! that said... you might convince him to get piercing or two... ino with an eyebrow piercing or snake bites.... yum

you're an iconic duo and everyone who sees you together knows it!!

[epipremnum-aureum]

Muffin has things to say about snow

[anantaru]

i miss the girls :(( will you write something about them soon ?

kokomi and her endearing incapability to keep her pretty mouth silent while you‘re thirstily riding her warm tongue— gravelly desirous to shatter the expanding curl in your stomach.

your secured legs were rigidity and affecting your power to breathe in an unbroken, round manner. You liked how she did it and how she prioritized your pleasure— always, when she gathered all the spit in her mouth to latch it on your glissaded folds afterwards. kokomi couldn't stop herself— most importantly did she not want to as she continuously moaned into your core, her spongy muscle was tunneling past your folds and rounded itself on your slicked opening, delving your liquids and swilling them down because she wanted it, to still her unswerving greed, to have your scent ingrained on her entire skin.

ningguang, who secretly honeys to spoil you— in many more ways than exclusively purchasing you glittery jewelry of the highest quality, to a greater degree does she become so ravenous for you when she‘s going down on your sex while you‘re polished in the unequalled golden choker with her name minted on it. the 'ning' right above your bubbling throat was brilliantly shining with illuminated diamonds and when she further crates her face grander into your sweltering pussy, your body quivers up, your breasts messily spilling out of the tight lace lingerie ningguang of course, needed you to wear for this sweet, special occasion.

[moriartsy]

beyond gilded chains

pairing: jim moriarty x fem!reader

warnings: toxic parents, anxiety attack, sexual tension

summary: what is the lesser of two evils? your father and his world of elites he wants to trap you in? or the overt yet unspoken reality of moriarty's darkness?

w/c: 1.7K

a/n: okay, i know this is kind of cliché, but i have an idea for a jim moriarty story and i have to warm up before i get into it. so i wrote this. i plan on writing a second part and possibly making it a series of oneshots / drabbles. but we'll see how it goes...you can send in requests if you want (and if there are any moriarty enthusiasts still)! thank you for reading !! <3

The grand ballroom of the opulent Ravenscroft Hall shimmered with a golden hue as crystal chandeliers bathed the room in a soft, ambient glow. A symphony of murmurs filled the air, blending seamlessly with the soothing melodies of a string quartet playing in the background. Lavish floral arrangements adorned each table, their fragrances intermingling with the scent of expensive perfumes a polished mahogany.

You stood at the periphery of the extravagant scene, your eyes wandering over the sea of elegantly dressed attendees, each adorned in designer gowns and tailored suits. You fidgeted with the hem of your own exquisite dress, a creation of silk and lace that clung to your figure with the same precision as the couturier's careful stitching.

Despite the expensive fabric enveloping your body, your mood was in a poor state. Honestly, you’d rather be at home, rewatching The Office for the millionth time, but your parents will never let you not attend these events. It's like a chore.

Your parents were proponents of social grace and high society and they had meticulously trained you to navigate such events with poise, concealing any trace of your true feelings beneath a veneer of practiced smiles and genteel conversation.

You sighed.

Suddenly, you felt a new presence at your side. Following the sound of slow footsteps, you found one of your father's associates wearing a smirk that mirrored the self-assured glint in his eyes, sauntering towards you with his hand in the pocket of his dark pants as the other held the fragile flute, a fizzy liquid swirling inside.

"I can see attending these social shindigs brings you such a genuine pleasure. A sheer joy is just radiating from your every pore.“ he said, his words dripping with sarcasm.

You forced a tight smile. "That would be an understatement, Moriarty."

You took a sip of your Dom Pérignon, the liquid gold sliding down your throat as Jim chuckled, unfazed by your icy demeanor.

"Is there something you want, Moriarty, or are you just here to grace me with your charming company?"

Moriarty grinned, "I'm just marveling at the spectacle, my dear. Your enthusiasm is truly contagious."

Rolling your eyes, you retorted, "If that's all, then kindly go and marvel elsewhere. Go strangle someone just because they looked at you the wrong way."

Moriarty feigned offense, placing a hand over his heart as his lips formed an 'O' and his brown eyes widened.

"Oh, (Y/N), don't be like that. I thought we were bonding over our shared love for wealth and excess this boring bunch put on display oh so exquisitely," he said as his hand, still occupied by the glass, swept over the room before facing you again with a knowing smile. "But just so you know. I just did." He added with mischief.

You honestly didn't know if he was joking just to entertain you or maybe intimidate you. Moriarty was capable of bringing all of those people to their knees right in that instance. Including you.

"Do you really want my father to come after you that much? He won't stand for anyone bothering his precious daughter, you know," you sassed with an ironic smile, bluffing your way through.

"Ah, the protective father card, awfully clever.“ He murmured, his eyebrows knitted together before his expression became serious again as he leaned in. His scent invaded your nostrils as you fought to maintain your composure. "But you and I both know, (Y/N), your dear father is at my beck and call. He wouldn't dare lift a finger against me, no matter how many threats you throw around."

You held his gaze, but as much as you tried to hide the signs of the turmoil he stirred within you, you cou+ldn’t help but grind your teeth together. You knew there was no point in attempting to deceive him. He was remarkably good at reading people and you couldn’t be more of an open book to him.

His eyes fell to your lips just for a millisecond before they bored into yours once again.

Suddenly, a clink of the glasses between your bodies made you jump and he smirked at that.

"Cheers," he said with his psychotically soft voice, taking a sip of his drink. With that, Jim turned around a walked away, disappearing into the sea of the richest.

You exhaled a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. He seems to always find you at these events, making your blood boil every time.

Your solitude was short-lived, though, because soon enough, your father appeared at your side. He observed you with a scrutinizing gaze.

"(Y/N), my dear, what was that all about? What did that spider want?"

Always adept at concealing the complexities of your emotions, you responded with a nonchalant smile.

"Oh, nothing. Just a brief exchange of pleasantries."

He probed further. "Pleasantries? You seemed rather tense. Did he say anything about me? Any threats, perhaps?“

Your father was a man driven by self-interest and the desire to maintain his social standing. Moriarty was right, your father would be willing to sell you in pieces if it meant saving his own ass.

You shook your head, your expression composed. "No, Dad, nothing like that. Just some small talk."

Satisfied but still slightly suspicious, your father linked his arm with yours. "Well, let's not dwell on such matters. We're here to enjoy the evening, aren't we?"

He guided you through the lavish crowd, engaging you in conversations that held little interest for you. Stock portfolios, luxury vacations, and exclusive club memberships. You hear it all the time.

It didn't take long for your father to notice your disinterest, though, and it didn't make him happy.

"You should really take more interest in these matters. People talk, you know. It's essential for your future, especially in our circle.“ He hissed at you when he made sure nobody was paying attention, his words dripping with toxicity that echoed the unspoken expectations of your privileged world.

In that moment, you fought an overwhelming urge to snap back, to unleash the resentment that had long been bubbling beneath the surface. You just bit your lip, resisting the impulse.

"I'm sorry, I'm just tired is all," you said with a tight-lipped smile before putting on the aristocratic mask and this time truly engaging in the conversation.

But the air started to feel thick and your eyes started stinging. You couldn’t take a nice deep breath and your joints started to tingle. You quickly put the flute on the tray the passing hostess was holding to hide the slight tremor in your hands.

Fuck. Here we go again.

5 things I can see: chandeliers, flowers, couples dancing, gilded mirrors, candles.

4 things I can touch: my dress, the Champagne glass, smooth marble surfaces, my silver necklace.

3 things I can hear: string quartet melodies, hushed conversations, footsteps.

2 things I can smell: rich perfume, and leather shoes.

1 thing I can taste: bitter Champagne.

You'd fought this anxiety battle right in the middle of a circle of elites many times before and you'd always pushed through. And you always will.

As you finally managed to take a breath and your tears dissolved, you took a quick scan of the room, catching the sight of Moriarty as he watched you.

Great. I’ll never hear the end of this.

The circle of riches finally broke not long after your crisis, and you took that opportunity to excuse yourself from the suffocating atmosphere. The sound of your high heels echoed through your personal space as you headed toward the exit. Unbeknownst to you, on the other side of the room, Moriarty discreetly signaled to his bodyguard it was time to leave, making his exit too.

As he stepped into the darkness of the night, he unbuttoned his midnight blue suit jacket, his eyes scanning the grandiose driveway. He started descending down the grand staircase and as soon as he reached the bottom, he spotted you leaning against the newel post of the steps, your eyes closed and arms crossed over your rising chest.

Jim jerked his head at his bodyguard, who nodded and rushed away, leaving you and Jim alone.

"It's a shame for such a magnificent creature to be hiding out here." You opened your eyes, slightly turning your head to follow his nearing form. "I mean, can they even call themselves 'crème de la crème' when you're not around?" he asked with a furrowed brow as if it was a serious question.

"You're disgusting," you said and let your eyelids fall again, rolling your head back into its original position, the sturdy structure of the stone scratching the back of your head.

He was now right in front of you, and even though you couldn’t see him, you could feel the warmth radiating from his body.

„Your father certainly knows how to orchestrate an impressive show. How long are you planning to dance to his tune?“

You opened your eyes again, the cool darkness giving way to the silhouette of Jim Moriarty standing before you. As your gaze locked with his dark brown eyes, you felt a complex mix of emotions swirling within.

Everything about him was dark, a demon steeped in shadows, but as your eyes lingered on his, you couldn't shake the feeling that, in some inexplicable way, he appeared lighter than the suffocating life you led with your parents.

"Well, you know. It's a waltz I've mastered"

„Sure, sure. But I also know you can only twirl around the predictable steps for so long before the music changes.“

You studied each other in silence before your forms were illuminated by the headlights of a black SUV. He turned on his heels and headed towards the awaiting car, pulling a gum out of his pocket and popping it into his mouth. Once he reached the vehicle, he opened the back door and turned to you, tilting his head as he waited for you to make a decision.

There was no point in stalling, he knew what you were going to decide anyway. You pushed yourself off the hardness of the pillar and walked towards the car. Moriarty smirked as the two of you locked eyes, watching as you got in.

Before he followed your suit, he took a glance at the doors leading inside the manor, spotting your father as he watched the situation unfold with terror on his face. Jim’s smirk widened as his jaw worked the gum, savoring the flavor. Then he disappeared into the luxury of his SUV, and your father only watched as the car sped away, the tires screeching against the rubble of the driveway.

tbc.

oop👀

a/n2: thank you for making it this far! sorry for the pineapples.

[kinoshita-asuka]

happy holidays, from THE FATUI HARBINGERS

winter time is here, and is tradition, time to exchange gifts with people they hold dear. what would the feared (warranted) fatui harbingers give their loved one?

harbingers x reader (minus pierro, la signora, and scaramouche) pulcinella is platonic 1.25k words; yandere undertones for some (they are harbingers) i do not condone yandere behavior

author's note: oh please let me remember to publish it on time.

pierro, no. 1

pierro is off at the moment, but he will send you one soon (aka i don't know how to write for him)

il dottore, no.2

the doctor would give you an invention of his. if you wanted to, he'll even gift a segment of him to you, they would appreciate it. but the gift he would most want to give you is an immortal body, so you could stay with him. he is an expert at biological matters, like his segments and collei… he would modify your body to never die, he would even make more bodies for you. if you die, you could just have another body. that would be his definition of staying with him forever and his solution to your mortality. on the other hand, the segments would gift you different things based on various periods of dottore's life. one might give you a mechanical bird while another might gift you a mindless servant, a former fatui member you've seen around.

columbina no. 3

columbina's gifts would be quite sincere and innocent. she'll give you a pretty white dove in a golden gilded cage and say, "look at this! it's so pretty, right my dove?" you should love her gifts, they're so pretty and she picked them out, all for you. she'll give you the same accessories as her own, such as her trademark lace blindfold and the feathers behind her head. or she gifts you things that she thinks resemble you, like the dove, or maybe a cute cat with a nice collar on it. she'll cuddle you and sing songs as you sleep, her eyes tracing the collar on your neck, matching your beloved cat's, with bell and all.

il capitano no. 4

the captain's gifts are clumsy, but sincere. he would pick whatever best he can think of for you (from his side). what would you get from him? a weapon, of course. for a non-combatant. he'll spend hours contemplating, observing you, to see which weapon would be better for you, can you use a bow or do you have the strength to swing a sword around. hey, maybe not the best gift for the holidays, but it's sincere from his side. his mindset is very combat-oriented. of course, he is one of the most effective combatants for the tsaritsa. he thinks that you should be prepared to battle, no matter when or where. better to be ready. he tries to teach you how to fight, to protect yourself. who knows who would come after you..

pulcinella, no. 5

pulcinella, the mayor of the nation. he would have the most heartfelt gifts, after childe. he has experience with gifts, as he always gives them to tartaglia's family and takes care of them, even if childe is too oblivious to realize the very obvious hostage situation. pulcinella would treat you like his granddaughter, he would gift you a scarf to keep you warm and money to keep you afloat. his financial support has helped you a lot. all he asks of you is to keep in close contact with him, which is an easy request for you. his old age and experience in the fatui have caused him to want someone close to him and someone he can spoil. just don't worry about a few fatui soldiers cruising across your small town, looking for a few "threats" that have tried to harm you..

scaramouche, no. 6

this seat has been left vacant for centuries. how could somebody give a gift to you if they didn't exist?

"hmm? there used to be one? i can't seem to remember."

sandrone, no. 7

this girl only works on her puppets and machines most of the time, so don't expect much gifting-wise. she wouldn't give you food or clothes, she would give you a mechanical invention of hers, but not her unfinished works. no, her most polished puppet, made with the best materials and tuned to perfection, will be given to you. like dottore, don't expect heartfelt gifts. these two run purely on logic and what is most practical to gift to you, which for sandrone, is her specialty field. as a plus for sandrone, this was a good time to test the puppet she made to see if it needed any improvements or if it works well. Her gift is programmed to watch you and report your movements at all times. it is a test run of a new surveillance robot she's been working on…

la signora, no. 8

"the fair lady? she should be deceased, so she can't give out presents unlesss.. you have a way to manifest her back into the world."

pantalone, no. 9

known as the richest man in snezhnaya, so of course, he would only have the most decadent gifts picked out for you. he might be the living incarnation of "i'll buy everything from here to here" and point from the start of the shelf to the very edge. there'll be the biggest diamond you've ever seen, inlaid on an indent in the center of a gorgeous silver necklace. he'll have the entire collection of famous designers from liyue, mondstadt, or any other nation. or you'll find yourself with a little coat, made of what seems to be the fur of a white fox, only for pantalone to inform you it's a mythical beast, and it is like the one stolen that was to be gifted to the tsaritsa. money is best spent on the most valuable individuals, whether to cherish them, chain them down, or both. he's spent so much on you, so stay with him.

arlecchino, no. 10

this woman is quite the piece of work. described as "there isn't a sane bone in her body", she is surprisingly… sweet to you? you don't know what you did, but you somehow fell in love. she wouldn't know much about gift-giving, but she does have some experience picking out gifts for the children of the "house of the hearth". the knave would give out sentimental but practical gifts, something like a comb or a hairpin, something of very high value, emotionally and materially. she would pick something you could use in everyday life or wear on yourself that she could see. like pantalone, she likes seeing you in things she's bought, but with a different motive for it. it signals that you are hers. you'll be the only one that allows her to show her darker side, so in exchange, you should stay hers, right? you'll be the only one to not disappear when you see her dark side.

tartaglia, no. 11

tartaglia would get you warm and heartfelt gifts. whether it be a batch of cookies made by his family or a warm scarf personally knitted by his mother or even himself (he would learn to knit for you). if childe did not get you some kind of gift like the above, he would use his saved-up mora to buy you something luxurious or comfortable, like nice coats and delicacies imported from other nations. he can do at least that much. while not as wealthy as pantalone, he is still immensely wealthy. he is very empathetic and would know what to gift you, it's a skill you acquire when you have to get gifts for a whole family. that extends to you, you are his second home, and he'll be damned if he doesn't spoil you. he shall cherish you, just like how he cherished his family after his near-death experience in the abyss. another little gift, he'll protect you with everything he's got, just like the icy grave of a certain aggressor buried in the thick snow who thought that he could fell the battle-hungry childe with his beloved.

worked on for 2 days

[alivingfire]

he'll see i'm not so tough

a @steddiebang fic

author: alivingfire artist: @knitsforthetrail betas: hibiscus & @hamiltonsteele

150k | explicit | tags: steve as kas the betrayer; secret relationship since s2 planned posting dates: november 21-december 2

When Steve gets trapped in the Upside Down, Vecna offers him a deal: become lieutenant of the monster armies and gain some of Vecna’s power, in exchange for being the bait to lure his friends back to rescue him. Steve takes the deal, believing wholeheartedly in the Party’s ability to save him and finally kill Vecna, but discovers quickly that his power to infiltrate the memories and dreams of people in the real world is very limited; in fact, he can only visit one person in his new monster form. 

Thus begins Steve’s haunting of Eddie Munson, who, coincidentally, has been in love with Steve since they started secretly hooking up after a Halloween party in 1984.

“Something wrong, Munson?” says a voice, and Eddie yelps and rolls out of bed. 

When he pops up on the other side, he sees a very alive Steve Harrington perched on his own bedroom windowsill. His face is exaggeratedly wild and sharp, and his hair is windswept. His skin is silvery-blue in the moonlight. His fingernails are dark and long and curved like claws. He’s in a Hawkins Swim t-shirt and light wash Levi’s, and there’s dried blood on his bare arms.  

He’s like the film negative of a boy Eddie knows by heart, like a cover version of his favorite song.  

And then he smiles, and his teeth are sharp.   

“Hey, babe,” Steve says. “Did you miss me?” 

Eddie, bravely, faints. 

longer excerpt under the cut:

The vine around his left wrist uncurls, and Steve lifts that arm automatically to see his palm glowing like a lantern, and more than a dozen strings of light shooting straight up at the sky. The strings are golden-hot and hard to look at, too much on Steve’s overloaded senses.

“Look at that,” Vecna says, moving that large clawed hand from Steve’s face to wrap around Steve’s free wrist. “That’s a power I never gained, try as I might. All that love and affection you have for your friends has connected you securely to them. Even as a dead man, you have ties to the world above. Eleven did not plan for that. Could not plan for that.”  

Steve stares at the lights, too, and the more he looks, he feels like he can see differences between them. One seems weaker than the others and looks like wood smoke and has a ruddy red tinge that, for some reason, Steve knows is the string tying him to Will Byers. One is pinkish and looks wrapped in lace: Nancy. Robin’s looks like water dripped with nail polish, swirls of navy blue. He can pick out Dustin’s, then Lucas, El, Max, Jon, Erica, even Mike. Eddie.

He can’t think about this. He rips his gaze away. 

“Why are you showing me this?”  

“I can teach you how to visit them. How to talk to them,” Vecna says. “Through dreams and hallucinations, yes, but you could see them, and they could see you. See that you’re alive.” 

“But trapped.” 

“Yes,” Vecna says. “The only way either of us could ever truly leave this place is if Eleven opens the gates back up, or if Max dies to finish the ritual I began. And I’m assuming you’re not willing to do that second option.” 

“Fuck you.” 

“As I thought. So, here is my deal: if I give you my powers, it would not be for free. You will act as my lieutenant here in this realm. You will control the beasts in my stead, and do as I command. If you are convincing enough, your friends will come to rescue you, and when they do I won’t make you fight them, but I will be there to welcome them, and this will finally be finished.” 

“Then why would I do this?” Steve laughs, incredulous. “Why would I draw them here, if they’re just going to die for it?” 

“Because you doubt me when I say that I would win against them,” Vecna says. He lays it out like a winning poker hand. “You believe in your friends. You believe they could beat me. And if they do, you could be saved.” 

“And if I say no?” Steve asks. 

Immediately, the pain comes pouring back, his vision going blurry, the colors fading from the world, his mouth filling once again with blood. His thoughts are slow and dripping. He groans and slumps forward, barely held up by the vines around him. 

“Then I leave you like this,” Vecna says. “It won’t take long for you to die. Your friends will never know what happened to you, and I will spend as long as I need to working to get back to the other world without you. And I’ll have help, because your friends cannot keep the government from meddling once more. Every crack they make in the barrier between worlds is one I can exploit. I will get through some day. At least this way, you have a chance to stop me. You have a chance to live again.” 

Steve breathes unsteadily and looks back down at his palm. He thinks about those tiny connections to people that he loves, and thinks about leaving them to fight this fight without him. 

It’s stupid. He isn’t the person who should be making this deal. He knows that Vecna manipulates and twists to get what he wants. But his logic makes sense, too. 

Steve doesn’t know what to do. He’s not the planner. He’s not the right one to choose this. He’s- 

Two weeks. Robin, Dustin, Eddie, Erica, Max, Lucas, Eddie, Jon, Will, Mike, Eddie, Joyce, Claudia, Wayne, Tommy, Carol, his parents, Eddie- they all think he’s gone. He remembers how he felt when Hopper died. He can’t- 

His jaw creaks when he opens his mouth. 

“Fine,” he says, pain cracking his voice into something horrible, weak, pathetic. He sucks in another breath. “It’s a deal.”

[cozymoko]

I seen your anime list and found out you do vampire knight can you do yandere platonic with kuran family? With dimension hopping darling ? She haven't seen the series and just think of them as random cosplayee stuck in snow?

YANDERE PLATONIC KANAME KURAN

Synopsis: Isekai child reader relives a day inside the yandere Kuran household. But thinks it's all a dream.

P.S — sorry if this is all over the place, I started losing my mind mid thing.

Pairing: Kuran family x fem! child reader

Format: Mini scenario, 2nd person

Word count: 1.9k

WARNING(S): Yandere themes

This was not your home.

It couldn't be. 

No, not here. 

You were sitting on a long leather couch, one of many that were placed evenly across the room. A chandelier dangled above you, emitting a soft, golden light upon your seated figure. 

It was clear this was someone else's memory, even so, your ability to move surprised you. 

You started at the warm cup of tea resting in your hands, dazed and bits of fatigue flickering across your expression. Your polished shoes just barely reached the marble flooring which just didn't seem right. 

Instinctively, you take one hand from the cup, examining yourself further. Your hands were small, much smaller than you'd remembered. And so were your legs; short and just barely reaching the floor. Who's goddamn legs were these? 

“[Name], are you alright?” You jumped at the deep, sultry voice, lifting your eyes to meet the concerned gaze of the man towering over you. 

You thanked the gods for it being your mother tongue, but even so, his words proved to be a bit foreign. They weren't exactly modern or anything like the dramas that consumed the media of your world. It reminded you of the nobles that filled the old books back in Tokyo, but even their speech wasn't this strange.

You nod your head, slowly, as though you were unsure. The man didn't look too convinced before he took a seat at your side. His chocolate hair was brushed neatly to the back though just barely passing his ears. He adorned a blue silk button-up with a beige trench coat draped over his broad shoulders. 

He didn't seem convinced. 

“Father, what's the matter? Why're you watching her so closely?”

A lean figure emerged from the shadows as though he was a part of them. He was a replica of the man whom he called "father", but mildly shorter with hair that reached the back of his neck. 

" Kaname," He started, his gaze not once leaving you. "I'm afraid that [Name] may be Ill, it's not like her to just stare off into space like this.“

" I see..."

Am I not here? Can I not speak for myself? 

You parted your lips in hopes of saying your piece, hit alas you were interrupted by the loud patters of feet coming your way. 

A young girl sprinted to your side, successfully beating what you assumed to be her older brother to the couch. She clung to your arm, snuggling into the thick fabric of your sweater. Jovial giggles bubbled in her throat as she held you unbelievably tight. 

“Now, Yuki, if [Name] truly does feel unwell you mustn't smother them.” Kaname scolded, gently tugging the young girl from your side. A deep look of displeasure flashed across his eyes but only for a moment as he reached to adjust your wrinkled clothes. 

Yuki pouted rather childishly, yet her shame was evident in her round eyes. “Sorry big sister! Please don't be upset.”

Upset? You nearly snorted, just what was there to be upset over? It was as though your questions were answered when you met his gaze, laced with envy and slight disappointment.  Oh, so this guy's a jealous one, huh? 

If you had to guess, he'd rather be him bruh in your arms than her.

Pfft, just how old was this guy anyways?

You were hardly given the time to marvel over your thoughts before a decently tall woman emerged from a cracked door to your right.

"My poor baby!” She cried out. “You hardly get sick, what's the matter?”

God damn, did you even have models this beautiful in your world? You doubt it. Her long hair descended her back with a few strands framing her slim face. She reached out and gently touched your cheek, her fingers as light as a feather. 

“Mother I'm fine, I promise.”

The words slipped through your lips before you knew it, almost like second nature as you gently removed the woman's hand from your unnaturally cold skin. 

“May I get some fresh air? Maybe that'll help me.”

The troubled looks on their faces rendered you silent — guilty even. 

Your lips shut as fast as they had opened, your body shifting uncomfortably under their prying eyes. Something about their looks made you feel off, as though they wanted to tear you limb by limb to keep you from escaping. 

“Sorry...” You whispered, wishing desperately to get out of this situation. “I'll just go to sleep early I suppose. Ka...name, can you take me?”

That's right, you didn't know where your room was, and seeing as you were somewhat in control of this body it was much-needed information. That man's name felt bitter on your tongue like forbidden fruit hanging from a sacred tree, you had almost forgotten it, thankfully you had not. 

Nonetheless, he looked more than just a little happy to escort you. Maybe a bit too much for your liking. His eyes glistened in mild admiration and he reminded you of a prince in an eerie sense. 

How fucking old are you anyway? I mean, he hadn't suspected a thing! 

“Follow me closely, you seem to enjoy getting lost in these halls.” He chuckled. 

Welp, that answers your question. 

You tailed him like a lost puppy, just barely standing inches from his feet. You touch your lips, feeling the sharp fang nearly poking from them. So I must be one of them too? What kind of sick joke is this? 

You look up at the concealed back of your "brother", listening to the soft clicks of your shoes as they mingled in the halls. His eyes glanced behind him ever so often to make sure you were still there. And you were sure he noticed you staring. 

So are all of these people into cosplaying? 

“Rest well,” He whispered, his warm breath faintly grazing your forehead before giving it a tender kiss. “You gave us quite the scare.”

Kaname ushered you into the room, not the slightest bit put off by your quietness. You weren't tired, you had just woken up. And yet a wave of fatigue has washed over you like a raging tsunami, your body staggered its way to the shelter mattress almost instinctively before you collapsed. 

The darkness was short-lived. 

Your fatigue is gone. 

Your eyes shoot open, but not as your doing. 

The scene changed. 

Your clothes were different. 

You were drawn to believe you were in another cliche as your clothes had indicated. Still formal with a Victorian touch. You could hardly collect your thoughts before they were (rudely) interrupted once more. 

“My child, please forgive me for I love you dearly...” A voice lamented. 

The woman this body called "mom" had kneeled before you. Her face was saturated in deep rogue, its tempting, metallic aroma wafting at your nose. She trembled, holding you tightly in your arms as though she was afraid to let you go. 

You felt restricted and scared. 

Your breathing was delayed. 

Your heart hammered against your ribcage. 

You wanted out of this situation now and there was no denying it. 

“Mother, w...what are you doing?” That wasn't you, but you were no less curious than the child who said it. 

Her lightly chapped lips made contact with your forehead. A chaste yet tender kiss goodbye to what it seemed to be. She gripped your shoulders in a possessive manner as though she didn't want to let go. 

An aching pain drummed against your head. If not for your mother's presence you were sure you would collapse. It felt like you were being torn limb from limb — bit by bit — piece by piece. Your vision blurred significantly, causing you to lean on her chest. 

Her crazed eyes stared back at you, sad and yet confident. She wished to care for you even after death but she knew it'd be selfish of her. 

“I love you so much.” She smiled. “Even if you don't remember me.”

All you could see is black. 

The warmth is gone. 

You're cold, so terribly cold. 

It was biting. 

And you had begun to feel numb. 

What was happening now? 

Drowning you in a thick blanket of ice. Pale white butterflies descended from above before disappearing in the snow. You would have found them beautiful if not for the circumstances. 

The shitty, unlikely circumstances. 

You hugged your short legs to your chest in a pitiful attempt to regain warmth. You had still inhabited the body of a child. Yet your lack of mobility proved to be a greater nuisance than the cold itself. The jade puffer coat draped over your shoulders had already deemed itself useless.

You were hopeless. 

Lost. 

Confused. 

Scared. 

Hopeless. 

Hopeless. 

Hopeless—! 

Amidst the unforgiving blizzard stood a man. Flecks of snow zipped across your vision so much that you could not see. 

“You smell delicious...“ The man slurred, slowly staggering towards you. “Give me...your blood...”

It hadn't registered at first. You had merely thought he was drunk out of his mind and nothing more. You shook your head, pushing your body further from the deranged man. Another action that wasn't of your doing. 

You involuntarily shivered under his deranged expression. You swore at the circumstances, the feelings you were experiencing. The atmosphere no longer felt light and airy as it did in the manor, you felt more alive. You could practically feel the blood coursing through your veins and it scared you even more than you could've imagined. 

“I said...give me your blood—Ack!”

Right, you'd almost forgotten about him. 

In one blink his body had met the ground. Streams of blood-forming an unruly puddle beneath him. You scoffed; served him right. But fear has swelled within you once more in such unforeseen circumstances. 

Who killed him?

Your strangely heightened senses no longer surprised you as you peer up to greet your savior. His eyes were all too familiar beside the rouge that swam through them. The warm chocolate color was no more as his eyes mimicked the blood dripping at his fingertips. 

“[Name],” The man sighed in great relief. “must you always worry me so much?”

The previous events left your mind hazy and even blurred. As you soon recognized this man to be your brother, Kaname. You run your tongue across your lips, jumping at the absence of the pointed fangs you'd once had. 

“Oh my, you must be terrified right now. My mistake, I didn't want things to happen this way.” He reached out, gently caressing your cheek with his clean hand. His slender fingers felt like needles against your numb skin. 

“If only I'd made it earlier. Perhaps I could have saved you from such unnecessary trauma.”

You snorted. Yeah, maybe. 

“Come now. I'll take you to somewhere safe." He whispered, reaching a hand out to you. “I won't allow anyone to hurt you again.”

You grab his hand, stubby fingers tangled within his own. You despised that warmth it brought you; the solace, the security. But what choice did you have? You were lost with nowhere to go. 

Your "life" had just flashed before your eyes. Those memories were not anyone else's but your own. They were vampires, all of them including yourself. And it was evident that the man immersed in the snow had wanted you dead. 

The pain you experienced with your "mom."

The crazed looks in their eyes. 

The excessive isolation. 

The blood staining his pale fingers. 

It was all too real. 

That's when you realized...

This wasn't a fucking joke.

[talesoftheunimagined]

[Mistaken Identity] Chapter 1

Rating: General

Fandom: Good Omens (Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett)

Relationships: Aziraphale x Crowley, Aziraphale/Crowley

Tags: Angst, Fluff, Heartbreak, Love, Georgian Era

Summary:

The year is 1797. King George has just gotten over a bout of illness and a member of the English royal family had just gotten married to a Duchess of Holland, so why not throw a masquerade ball to celebrate the occasion and invite all the noblemen and women of The United Kingdom and surrounding areas?

Crowley and Aziraphale meet at the ball. Crowley, though, mistakes some identities.

Chapter 2 is now up! Here

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ENGLAND 1797

Candlelight flickered over segments of intricate and boundless tiling, almost making it twinkle beneath the frilled edges of gowns and waltzing heeled shoes, lavishly gilded marble pillars adorned with various flowers joined the flooring to gilded balconies and up again to a florally carved and a gloriously painted plaster ceiling that supported the vast weight of what could well have been solid gold chandeliers that gleamed dully next to the candles that burnt in their arms amongst an abundance of crystal and diamond. Portraits of members of the English aristocracy adorned the walls and appeared with colorful landscapes and shining bright frames of bowls of fruits; apples, grapes, and bananas. A light summer breeze blew in through open windows which divulged any passers-by of the grandeur that the ballroom's event held.

Indeed. That night, at its very core, would be defined by the words grandeur and affluent.

George William Frederick, otherwise known as Mad King George in this modern day and had thrown a masquerade ball after marriage in the family and recovery a long bout of illness (although, his absence at the ball had arisen suspicions of deceit).

"I just absolutely knew that I'd see you here."

"Oh, 'course. Wouldn't miss something like this." He looked at is companion briefly.

Two men stood by a pillar. One clad in deep wine knickerbockers, white high socks and a matching wine tailcoat with shiny new obsidian buttons the colour of crows down; had his hair in neat copper rolls fastened just above his ears and a low ponytail fastened with a black ribbon hung over the back of his collar. Over his face, he wore a finely crafted mask of mahogany red. Gold rimmed the dramatically flicked eye holes that were shaded with black glass so that his eyes weren't visible. Two golden snakes seemed to search curiously for his eyes at the sides of the mask that was tied neatly with a black lace bow. The other was dressed quite similarly, except his knickerbockers were a nice magnolia that matched his hair and he wore a waistcoat of sky blue. He wore his hair naturally short and took pride in the sheen of his polished and buckled shoes in the candlelight. His mask was made of white porcelain rimmed with thick silver swirls and ornate curves. Blue gems nestled themselves amongst the curls and caught the light in a way that looked almost like a halo at the top of his mask. It wasn't quite clear how he kept such a mask from falling off of his face without a fastening, but he was doing it.

Aziraphale took a small sip from his glass (he was drinking honey spirits) and smiled at his surroundings and the people. Maybe even at nothing in particular. He was just happy to be in the presence of fine people, fine food and Crowley. His eyes creased at the sides and his cheeks glowed. It had been the first time since Paris 1793 that the pair had seen each other.

"It's really rather lovely, isn't it? All these people here, together. Having a wonderful time." The music swelled

"Yesss, well," Crowley mused. "with all that going on out in France, they all need it." The corners of his mouth turned down, but he wasn't frowning, or upset. It was just a Crowley thing.

The pair of them spotted a young woman bashfully approaching Crowley from across the other side of the room amidst the flurry of dress fabric and petticoats. She was wearing a swan mask, made of the same porcelain is Aziraphale's. She had a pretty face, her deep blue eyes peered out of her mask with shy curiosity and her dark hair was the nest for a large swan feather.

"Excuse me for being so bold, Count Crowley, but if you aren't occupied at the moment, I was wondering if you would like to dance?" Crowley turned to Aziraphale ever so slightly. "With...me." She clarified although both men (well, men shaped ethereal and occult beings) knew what she meant. Crowley accepted the invitation. It wouldn't do any harm to do some tempting tonight.

"I suppose I'll see you later then, eh?" He shot a small smirk at Aziraphale before disappearing into the sea of expensive fabrics leaving Aziraphale alone with his drink.

The angel watched with content at the couples that swirled and waltzed and box stepped. It wasn't long before he himself was asked to dance by a young woman. He smiled, asked a butler to kindly hold his drink, adjusted his waistcoat and set off to dance under the twinkling candles.

The night was still young.