Stalked
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- Words:
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- Works:
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- Bookmarks:
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Bookmarked by Stalked
13 May 2026
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Summary
Orpheus's eyes were comparable to that of a deer—helpless and small, almost as if it was impossible he could hurt anyone with that silent vulnerability of his.
So who would think that such an innocent gaze could harbor that much reserved hatred, for a man that loathed him with eyes of a bottomless pit? He didn't know, for he had never looked into his direction, for he refused to be engulfed in the abyss it extended to.
But when he did, Orpheus finds that those eyes held nothing but anguish and sorrow—that beyond the disgust and coldness it always brought, was the look of unrequited longing for the novelist, and it concerned him when he felt a tug on his heartstrings.
Because the night the prospector's confession was spoken, came the change he didn't expect between them.
Bookmarked by Stalked
03 May 2026
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When waiting becomes a show of trust and looking back is a betrayal, who will stay and who will move forward?
Bookmarked by Stalked
29 Apr 2026
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There was something different about the man. Despite his youthful look, there was a heaviness to his shoulders that said he had hardened through prolonged suffering. His smile, his laugh, the way his eyes crinkled in the corner, it was definitely a slipping mask. The way Orpheus held himself was too rigid, too perfected, and he noticed the rise and fall of the brunet's chest was too long between his conversations and rest.
The man was peculiar. Yet, no matter what, his eyes always found the other's, and he gazed at him like he was a meal to be devoured, yet there was an odd reverence that was mixed within the hunger.
Fredrick didn't want to admit it intrigued him, even less that he wanted to tread that danger willingly, even if it meant falling into the maw of the novelist.
Bookmarked by Stalked
29 Apr 2026
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Summary
Do you dream of hands around your throat because you want to die, or because you want someone to make it matter?
Bookmarked by Stalked
27 Apr 2026