Fantasy
Imaginative scenarios, supernatural encounters, dream worlds
51 stories
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Could You Even Tell Which Face Was Mine?
His thumb hooked into the waistband of my slacks, a motion as deliberate as a signature on a closing document.
A Heavy Iron Gate
Malachi’s thumb was stained purple, the juice of the grape looking too much like a bruise as he pressed it against the hollow of my throat.
Friction
The way her knees pressed against the velvet of the seat, she looked like a prayer someone forgot to finish saying.
"I Suspect Your Motives Are Even Filthier Than This Champagne"
She was a walking litigation risk, draped in enough midnight-blue silk to bankroll a small revolution and smelling of cold rain.
Keep the Fire High
The wind outside was screaming like a downed elk, but inside, the only sound was the heavy, rhythmic thud of Julian’s heart against my ear.
The Back Booth at The Onyx
She looked at me like I was a ribeye and she’d been on a juice cleanse for a month. I knew better, but God, I didn't care.
Turn the Deadbolt
Her breath on my collarbone was a localized weather pattern, a warm front moving against the stagnant chill of the hallway.
Reduction
You have flour on your cheek, a smudge that looks like a thumbprint, and I’m wondering if you’d jump if I wiped it off.
Did You Really Think the Rain Would Wash Away Your Scent?
The humidity has turned his hair into a riot of damp curls, and I have never wanted to fix a man’s alignment more.
October 24th, 11:42 PM
He didn’t just occupy space in the bar; he seemed to be the reason the room was holding its breath at all.
Did You Really Think the Horns Were Part of the Act?
You were vibrating at a frequency that shouldn't exist in a city governed by the laws of thermodynamics and the MBTA.
October 14th, 9:22 PM
The mahogany desk was cold against her thighs, a stark contrast to the internal temperature spike recorded at twenty-one hundred hours.