#moonwoken

[evermxre-a]

@moonwoken​ said :  ❛   i want you. and the thought of anyone else having you is like a knife twist in my dark soul.   ❜ (Also from Francis if you're interested, being dramatic with words like 'dark soul')

the words that fall from francis’ lips have the prince’s chest TIGHTENING with a NEED that he has tried his damnedest to ignore. fate is a cruel mistress, toying with him— with THEM— in such a way. francis is so rarely corporeal, so rarely in this flesh and blood form that adam can TOUCH— and, god, how he wants to touch him. how he wants to feel the former prince ; how he wants to feel him, hands on his skin and in his hair. it’s like an ACHE that has settled over him, a cruel one that insists on sinking into every fibre of his being, but at least it distracts.                  “ is it? ”  he manages to ask, and his voice is ROUGH and GRAVELLY, a sign of just how much those POSSESSIVE words affect him. there is color on francis’ face, just as there is color on adam’s. how dare he be so HUMAN, yet so out of reach? it is a CRUEL TRICK. the prince steps forward, glancing over his shoulder only briefly to make sure that no one else is inside the library right now ; they would think he a madman, whispering things to someone that no one else but him can see. hand reaches for francis’ shirt, a silent prayer of relief being sent up when he can TOUCH him without his hand going straight through him ; he is corporeal for now, something that has adam thanking whatever gods are up there.                                        against the bookshelf does he push the former prince, hand still clutching that fabric. he will not let go until he has to ; he will hang onto this for as long as he can. at what point did everything that he wanted, everything that he HUNGERS for, turn into francis? he does not know, and he does not care. not right now. he does not have TIME to care. each moment must be cherished ; each moment must be used to its fullest.  “ tell me, your highness, ”  adam leans in and whispers into his ear,  “ how often do you wish it were you that i hold in my arms at these insufferable parties i have to attend? because, you see... ”  words trail off, lips moving to brush against francis’s skin : against the curve of his jawline, against his neck. please don’t fade away on him now.  “ ... i find myself wishing it were you almost every single time— rather silly ,is it not? i find myself wishing YOU were the young woman that i spend the night with, in more ways than one. i find myself CRAVING you. that poisoned knife is embedded within both of us, darling, and i have no bloody clue how to get it out. ”

[olivierperrier]

things you said with my lips on your neck

Olivier is not a man of many words.

Or rather, he is, but you have to be patient enough for them. See vulnerability enough for them. And with Francis? Oh, Olivier was everything in the world to vulnerable.

A quiet man unfolds to someone else under Francis's touch, fingers coaxing unintelligible syllables as they skate bare skin and undo every defense as deftly as they had been constructed. Relentless enough attention has even led to volume unimaginable from Olivier as the bed rocks hard against the wall and he becomes everything held back.

He says so many things, rushed and slurred and clear and slow. Things like "please" , and "fuck, god..." and his favorite of all: "Francis". Tonight, they are spooled around each other in an armchair that really should be moved to private quarters - but it never matters as the velvet storefront curtains are drawn thick and soft. Olivier is at Francis's mercy as he always is, his own teasing turned back on him so easily to gain the upper hand and melt the book keeper like ice on a hot day. Today, the murmurs are "yes" and "darling" and "cheri" as fingers tangle in the curls at the nape of Francis's neck to urge him impossibly closer. They already know how this ends: devouring and attentive and merciless in adoration. Eventually feet trip up the stairs and clothes drop behind them in a deja vu of their first time. Eventually Francis's lips are pressed to Olivier's soft neck again and again between cool sheets and heaving chests in the warm aftermath of it all. White neck bared so willingly as if to offer his life, pulse jumping even after all the work it has already done that night. The simplest part to tear out and end sound forever, the show of surrender, the parley of trust. Olivier holds Francis close with all of this around them and nothing between them and says the best of all when lips breathe sensitive, again and again and again.

" i love you. i do, i do, i do. "

[thecoldremembers]

@moonwoken asked for a short starter!

“Lady, you might wanna clear out. Things are about to get real ugly around here in a sec.”

[oldblog-amor]

@moonwoken​  .  random starter for narcissa  &  francis

      ‘  you know how much you mean to me  ,  right  ?  ‘  she asks softly  ,  shifting so she could look at him with a lily in her hands  ,  playing with the petals  .  ‘  this arrangement is difficult  ,  francis  &  waiting for an answer back from the King on the amendment of the contract  ---  ‘  she stops talking once she realizes that she is pulling out the petals and sighs  .  of course there is general frustration from the original arrangement falling through but both of theit wedding days were quickly approaching  &  she didn’t want to watch him walk down the isle with Olivia any more than he wanted to watch her with Lucius  .  ‘  i just want you to know that no matter what happens you are my life  ,  Francis  .  you are ever constellation in the sky to me  &  every beat of my heart  .  ‘  the flower is gone now as she leans in to kiss him softly on the corner of the mouth  ,  waiting to see if he wants her to stop  .  ‘  you’re still mine no matter what happens  .  ‘

[hatilead]

❝  you look different in sleep, beautiful but cold as moonlight.  ❞      @moonwoken​    +     dean   

                    𝐂𝐎𝐑𝐏𝐒𝐄 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐄𝐃 𝐓𝐎 𝐑𝐎𝐓 𝐃𝐎𝐄𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐈𝐍𝐃𝐔𝐋𝐆𝐄          often on the pleasure of sleep .       watches time pass without a sweet interlude .       does no longer dream behind closed yes ,        does no longer rest when head finds the comfort of a pillow .       hammock sways to gentle rhythm of the sea beneath .      reminds man of maw of beast .        𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐋𝐘 ,       𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐈𝐒 𝐍𝐎 𝐋𝐎𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐑 𝐋𝐎𝐍𝐆𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐈𝐓𝐒 𝐉𝐀𝐖𝐒 𝐓𝐎 𝐓𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐄𝐍 𝐀𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃 𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐅𝐑𝐀𝐌𝐄   .           loneliness has been a companion .        a friend underneath both sun and moon .       but the ache of it now becomes an unmarked grave             /             for how bitter it does taste when there has been something sweeter added to it .     

tongue refuses to admit the fact that he has laid curled up on other man’s floor .     it has been his cabin which had been offered ,      after all .       a fools deal .       to think of himself as unchanged back when man had first stepped foot on board .      now ,      when moon taunts him with silver light ,      there is nothing for him to gnaw on except his own heartstrings .       𝐓𝐎 𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐒 𝐒𝐏𝐎𝐊𝐄𝐍 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐖𝐇𝐎 𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐑𝐄𝐌𝐀𝐈𝐍 𝐀𝐖𝐀𝐊𝐄 𝐀𝐓 𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄     .        for the first time in many years ,       sleep ,      an easy escape to pass the agonizingly slow ticking of time ,       had seemed like a better solution .    

❝  beautiful .  ❞       captain tries the word for size between his teeth ,       let’s it rest ‘pon tongue as if he is almost tasting it .        memory of food long forgotten too ,      but he can pretend .   small chuckle dares to burst out from between his lips .      𝐒𝐈𝐓𝐒 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐀𝐑𝐌𝐒 𝐖𝐑𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐄𝐃 𝐀𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃 𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐊𝐍𝐄𝐄𝐒    ,         looks up at the only person who has ever made life bearable as if it is simply his     right     to sit ‘pon wooden floor .        ❝  you must be mistaken .  ❞        there is no longer a tease about spying ,      about looking in the moments one should cast their eyes towards the sky .       both of them have looked enough in days passed  .          ❝  i fear it could not compare to you ,     if you were able to see what i have seen ,      you would rethink your words  .  ❞   

teeth nearly clamp down on his own tongue at spoken words .       casts away his gaze as to escape from the look of judgement he is sure to see in companion’s eyes .        𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐋𝐋 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐒𝐔𝐑𝐄 𝐇𝐎𝐖 𝐅𝐑𝐄𝐄𝐋𝐘 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐋𝐈𝐕𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐀𝐊   .    

[hatilead]

            𝐔𝐍𝐅𝐀𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐈𝐀𝐑 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐄 𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐁𝐒 𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐀𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐍𝐎 𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑        has ever done before .        pink converse firmly planted ‘pon welcoming gravel ,     sound of her steps swallowed up by the halls and rooms nearly abandoned except for the passing of people eager to catch a glimpse of bygone days .      dreamers child is no exception .       𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐊𝐒 𝐀𝐓 𝐂𝐄𝐈𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐀𝐒 𝐈𝐅 𝐈𝐓 𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐖𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐊𝐘 𝐀𝐁𝐎𝐕𝐄   .        marvels at the experience of standing in the midst of history .      attention is no longer focused on the group of people she is supposed to follow ,      caught by the marvel of painted flowers ‘pon canvas .    

she can imagine many days in a place like this ,       feel the summers’ breeze drifting through windows          /           imagine the glow of candles beckoning fireflies .     she does not notice the group passing ,      does not notice the stillness that comes over the room as soon as beating hearts and mumbling voices slip ‘round the corner .       𝐒𝐔𝐃𝐃𝐄𝐍𝐋𝐘 ,       𝐒𝐇𝐄 𝐈𝐒 𝐀𝐋𝐎𝐍𝐄 .       𝐘𝐄𝐓 𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐋𝐋 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝐀 𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐋𝐃    .         attention is grabbed by force as she looks up from delicate painted petals ,       held like silver thread in the hands of the divine .      surely ,     she could not be blamed if she chose to wander at this point ,     could she now    ?      

it is easy to get lost in a place as vast as this .      too many rooms holding their breath ,       waiting for something      (      what ,     she does not know .     )         𝐋𝐎𝐍𝐆𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐀𝐘 𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐆𝐎𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 𝐎𝐅𝐓𝐄𝐍 𝐃𝐎   .         ❝  excuse me   !   ❞      a little wave of her hand in the direction of the man standing around ,     odd ,     surely ,    but so is getting lost in a castle .      ❝  i love your outfit .  ❞      smile is beaming as distance is closed .      stands before him with only a slight shuffle of her feet .     ❝  i’m assuming you work here   ?       you do look familiar ,     i might have seen you at the beginning of the tour .      but yes ,    see ,     the tour ...   i might have lost them .  ❞

        @moonwoken​    /    baby fool gets to meet a ghost ! 

[hatilead]

      𝐇𝐎𝐖𝐋   &   𝐉𝐀𝐂𝐊𝐒𝐎𝐍     @moonwoken 

                                                   how foolish of us to believe that we could be stronger than the sky,    more beautiful than the sea.    except it was never foolish        ;        not when you made me believe that i could be all those things    -      and even more.   

[hatilead]

    @moonwoken     /     because flirting has never really gone smooth with these two and that isn’t going to change anytime soon .