cursedbycain

[cursedbycain]

Being a lover girl is a crime here

[cursedbycain]

okay so these were the og thoughts but now i'm sitting at my desk with chai so lets do this

"that not only he expected it to happen, but he also didn’t mind it at all." he knows him so well after all this time!!!

"He only watched in amusement as her eyes grew wide from excitement. Anyone else would’ve been shocked by that sight, by what it implied, even Dmitry was." i wanted to kill the hag when he said that anyways this is so cute of her

"There was nothing that could ever go unnoticed by that pair of blue eyes." their matching blue eyes oh i wonder if that ever freaks Yan and Lane out when they interact with the other one

"He is always mad at me. You know it. He doesn’t feel anything other than anger. Anything else he feels he turns into it. He’s just colder now." oh dmitry when i fucking catch you

"She had grown a lot ever since he first met her" cute

"I assumed it was the case. He was staring at me during the whole meeting." whole squad probably noticed it too

"He didn’t want to know if Dmitry had met someone in a bar and taken them home, to the bed Yan slept on." hey hey hey what if i throw up. this is mean.

"Look at our little Anechka. All grown up now with a girlfriend and now a specialist in relationships…" he's so funny

"Does Lane knows that? Because when you were bringing me here, she looked like she was going to kill me in the slowest and most painful way possible." for your sake i'll ignore the yanlane crumb in this i LOVE jealous Lane this is hilarious

"Somehow, they reminded her so much of Lane’s that she wanted to hide. But she shouldn’t. Because she knew Yan." awww theyre so sweet together

"That’s not the right question, because you already know you like her. The right question is: What are you so afraid of, Anna?" OOP clocked her

"Of ending up like him and Dmitry. Of loving someone so much and so deeply that everything around it burned and burned and burned until there was nothing left." nvm i'm not laughing anymore

"you could lose her to someone else. Wouldn’t that be even worse?" cainlane crumb yummy uh anyways it would be worse yan why do you have to be so wise

"Yan quietly got up, opening the door for her and smiling to himself when he saw the cryptographer staring at him at the end of the wall." she's such a lurker it's so funny

"The cryptographer didn’t follow the scientist, instead choosing to give Yan one last dirty look before turning around and leaving Yan alone with his thoughts." lesbian lane is really just a hater huh makes sense (she's just like agatha)

"Until a too familiar body appeared behind him and stole his lit cigarrete, making Yan smile to himself and look down to meet the bluest sea one more time." why is he always stealing his shit anyways wonderful ending just kill me now

YEAH anyways this is wonderful and perfect and i cannot believe i've been so afraid to read these (still am i got jealous at the end and i hate being jealous) and it's just characterized so wonderfully!! you have such a nice writing style it's really beautiful to read!! chefs kiss fr

Truth

Paring:Dmitry/Yan [mentioned not established relationship] Anna/Lane [mentioned not established relationship]

Word count: 1.019

Rating: T

Warning: Use of syringes, needles, mentions of blood, blood extraction.

Anechka and Anya are both Russian nicknames to Anna.

Summary: I didn't matter if someone didn't want to admit something. The truth was still the truth.

Tagging: @rc-catalog

-Dmitry told me.

-I assumed he would.

The lazy smile on the man’s lips showed that not only he expected it to happen, but he also didn’t mind it at all. It was a new room for her, but it still felt foreign to have that man in her presence after Dmitry had said so fervently that he was gone.

-He was very upset.

She didn’t ask for his consent to pull his arm closer and started to undo the gauze on his arms. He only watched in amusement as her eyes grew wide from excitement. Anyone else would’ve been shocked by that sight, by what it implied, even Dmitry was. But Anna watched as the rotten skin met with the normal one as if it was a gate to a new world. As if this was a piece of the puzzle she was trying to solve and she had no idea she even had it so close by.

-Is he ever not upset?

-With you?

-With any and everything.

She let out a small laugh before going up and grabbing a plate filled with syringes and cotton and sitting back down in front of him again.

-Is he still mad at you?

And he knew she already knew the answer. There was nothing that could ever go unnoticed by that pair of blue eyes. Yan always wondered if it was genetics or if the deceased General had trained both of them to be just like that. Still, it was amusing.

-He is always mad at me. You know it. He doesn’t feel anything other than anger. Anything else he feels he turns into it. He’s just colder now.

A cold needle pierced his healthy skin, and he could see in her eyes that she was debating whether to tell him something or not. She had grown a lot ever since he first met her, but he could still see through her if he paid enough attention. He supposed it was like that with the other one too.

-He was taking your dog tag to your room yesterday. That was why he went. I told him to give it away with the rest of the others, but he said he’d give it to you later. That’s why he saw you.

-I assumed it was the case. He was staring at me during the whole meeting.

-Perhaps he just misses you.

-He’d die before admitting it.

-Doesn’t make it any less of the truth.

She now tried to extract blood from under the abomination’s skin while he pressed a piece of cotton to the skin she had just poked. The silence wasn’t uncomfortable, but he didn’t want to linger on what she just said. He didn’t want to think about it. He didn’t want to wonder how Dmitry had told his little sister that he was dead. He didn’t want to wonder if Anna had ever heard him crying at night because of that. He didn’t want to know that he didn’t. He didn’t want to know if he had tried to move on. He didn’t want to know if Dmitry had met someone in a bar and taken them home, to the bed Yan slept on.

If that was the truth, he dreaded it more than death itself.

-Look at our little Anechka. All grown up now with a girlfriend and now a specialist in relationships…

She poked his arm with the needle angrily.

-I told you not to call me that. And I don’t have a girlfriend.

-Does Lane knows that? Because when you were bringing me here, she looked like she was going to kill me in the slowest and most painful way possible.

-I have no idea of what you’re talking about, Yan.

-Now, that’s not very truthful, is it Anya?

She stared at the syringes, filled to the brick with his blood before looking back at his dark eyes. Somehow, they reminded her so much of Lane’s that she wanted to hide. But she shouldn’t. Because she knew Yan.

-How did you know you liked him?

Yan simply smiled.

-That’s not the right question, because you already know you like her. The right question is: What are you so afraid of, Anna?

She simply stared back in disbelief.

Not of the fact that he knew, because of course he did. Everyone on the squad probably did as well. He had known Anna for a very long while, had basically seen her grow, so of course he would see through her very clear feelings.

What shocked her was that he seemed to genuinely not understand her fear. The fear of ending up like her parents. Of ending up like him and Dmitry. Of loving someone so much and so deeply that everything around it burned and burned and burned until there was nothing left.

Fear of losing her best friend like her father and brother did before her.

Fear of the inevitable.

Of what was probably destined for her as well.

-It’s overused for a reason, but you truly only leave once, Anya. There’s an apocalypse going on and we all can die at any moment. Or even worse, you could lose her to someone else. Wouldn’t that be even worse?

She looked into his eyes and wondered if he would ever listen to the advice he was giving.

-Let’s go. I need to put your blood into the machine.

Yan quietly got up, opening the door for her and smiling to himself when he saw the cryptographer staring at him at the end of the wall.

-Yan, talk to him. You two need to stop torturing each other.

-Right back at you, Anechka.

She simply rolled her eyes, turning around and taking the vials filled with his blood to the lab. The cryptographer didn’t follow the scientist, instead choosing to give Yan one last dirty look before turning around and leaving Yan alone with his thoughts.

Until a too familiar body appeared behind him and stole his lit cigarrete, making Yan smile to himself and look down to meet the bluest sea one more time.

[cursedbycain]

marked - Cain x Lane (18+)

tagging: @rc-catalog

synopsis: sometimes responsibilities can be put off

tw: explicit sexual content, biting, oral sex (male receiving), rated M

wc: 1.2k

And me? Can I hurt you?” The mark on Lane’s shoulder aches deliciously as Cain merely smiles at her question.

“I’m sure you’ll find a way.” He presses another kiss to her lips, pulling her closer until she’s sitting in his lap. His grip on her waist tightens and she sighs into his mouth. Cain’s long fingers slip under her shirt, thumbs stroking the skin slowly.

“Now look at who’s doing the seducing.” She mumbles with a smile as he pulls the fabric over her head. Eyes still burning scarlet, he grins ravenously.

“Are you only just now noticing my attempts?” He presses delicate kisses along her throat, soothing over the love marks he had left before. Lane shuts her eyes to revel in the feeling. He pulls her thin top off as well, leaving her bare from the waist up. Feeling uneven, she opens her eyes to grab the edge of his black shirt. He helps her take it off, adjusting his wings to fit through the torn slits.

She runs a hand along the smooth skin of his chest as Cain observes her curiously. His hands keep a firm grip on her waist as her touch descends lower. Undoing his belt with little struggle, she sits up as he pushes the fabric of his pants down and kicks them off.

“My turn.” He smirks as he unbuttons her pants. With some maneuvering, she’s left in just her panties, sitting in his lap. Her heart pounds in her ears as she becomes acutely aware of his hardness straining the fabric of his briefs. Cain shifts to lay back, wings stretching out and hair falling around him like a halo. He’s studying her intently, waiting to see what she’ll do next.

She knows what she wants to do next.

Lane shifts back, settling between his legs. He sits up with interest. If his eyes could burn brighter, she’d be scorched. Slowly tugging his briefs down, she watches his reaction as she grasps his length. His jaw clenches as if holding back. She slowly strokes him as his chest heaves, eyes nearly closing in pleasure.

She tries not to let her nerves show. This wasn’t her strong suit. It hadn’t even been something she liked doing. But oddly, she wanted to. For him. To see him come undone underneath her was something unfathomable.

His fists clench when she takes him into her mouth. He seems almost restrained, as if afraid to be too rough with her. But when she takes his hands and guides them to her hair, she can see the excitement in his eyes. He threads his fingers through the strands, gently tugging in a way that makes her moan around him. Cain shudders at the feeling, eyes shut and tossing his head back.

He’s too big for her to take all the way. She takes her time adjusting, slowly bobbing her head. Every movement makes Cain come even more undone. Pressing her thighs together, she increases her pace. His grip tightens, letting out a breathy noise. When she circles the tip with her tongue, his whole body goes rigid. She can taste his desire, a salty-sweet taste that she finds oddly pleasant. Taking him as deep as her throat allows, she glances up at him.

She’s surprised to find his eyes meeting hers, though half closed and hazy. They flicker intensely in anticipation as she holds him there. He pushes her hair out of her face with one hand, making a makeshift ponytail. She holds the eye contact as she moves. His jaw clenches, and after a few more movements he tugs her hair, pulling her off.

“Not yet.” He manages to say, chest heaving. Lane nods, wiping the spit from her mouth. She’s on a high, knowing she had made him feel such a level of pleasure. He sits up quickly, pressing his mouth to hers. It’s messy and their teeth clash but neither of them care, all too eager. He rips her panties off in one fluid motion, making her gasp into the kiss.

His hand snakes between her thighs, moaning when he realizes just how excited she is. His thumb easily finds her pleasure point, rubbing tight circles that make her gasp and press her face into the crook of his neck.

“Cain…” She whispers softly against his cool skin. He slows his movements, reaching to grasp her jaw and pull her head back just enough to look into her eyes.

“I wouldn’t want to burden you.” He whispers, eyes switching to blue for a moment before flashing back to red once she shakes her head.

“Not a burden. I want to.” He nods in response, helping her getting in position.

She sinks down slowly, the feeling of him inside her just as unreal as the first time. His strong grip steadies her. He’s holding back with a slight difficulty, watching her intensely as she adjusts.

When the pleasant feeling of fullness rushes through her, they both moan softly. Cain smiles, sitting up to press himself impossibly closer. His kiss is surprisingly gentle.

“Good?” He asks. She nods, slowly rocking her hips. His fingers dig into her waist.

“Take all the time you need.” Cain presses a gentle kiss to the small mark on her shoulder left from his bite. She hums, shutting her eyes. As her desire grows, she starts to move. It takes her a few seconds to get used to the position, Cain’s grip guiding her. After a particularly quick movement, pleasure flashes through her. Chasing that sensation, she finds her rhythm. He tilts his head to capture his lips, tugging her down with him as he lays back. His hips thrust up to meet hers as their tongues touch.

She slowly breaks the kiss to hold herself up, wanting to see his face. Their eyes meet, hazy with their shared desire. Their movements begin to speed up, the knot in her stomach tightening. Cain mumbles what sound like curse words in latin as his grip tightens.

Pleasure shoots through her and she nearly melts onto him. He doesn’t let up, prolonging her pleasure as his hips snap up a few more times. His body is tense before suddenly relaxing.

For a few minutes, they both sit in silence, catching their breath. When their heart rates come back to normal, she slips off and lays down beside him. He turns to look at her, calming blue eyes looking at her so warmly it almost makes her shy.

“Are you alright?” He asks, running his fingers along her arm. She hums, moving to rest her head on his chest. His arm slips around to stroke her hair. Noticing the Book still open on her desk, she feels instantly anxious.

“What’s wrong?” Cain asks, tilting to study her expression. She sighs heavily, not even wanting to say it.

“I should get back to work.” Lane notes. He makes a noise of disappointment.

“I should have left that thing in Siberia.” His grip tightens ever so slightly. She can’t help but smile, making no move to get up.

“Maybe you shouldn’t have given it to me.” She teases. He shakes his head, pulling the blanket up and over them.

“If I had known you would get so obsessed with it maybe I wouldn’t have. Now, get some rest. You can work on it tomorrow.” He presses a barely there kiss to the top of her head. Without another word, she shuts her eyes and goes to sleep.

[cursedbycain]

marked - Cain x Lane (18+)

tagging: @rc-catalog

synopsis: sometimes responsibilities can be put off

tw: explicit sexual content, biting, oral sex (male receiving), rated M

wc: 1.2k

And me? Can I hurt you?” The mark on Lane’s shoulder aches deliciously as Cain merely smiles at her question.

“I’m sure you’ll find a way.” He presses another kiss to her lips, pulling her closer until she’s sitting in his lap. His grip on her waist tightens and she sighs into his mouth. Cain’s long fingers slip under her shirt, thumbs stroking the skin slowly.

“Now look at who’s doing the seducing.” She mumbles with a smile as he pulls the fabric over her head. Eyes still burning scarlet, he grins ravenously.

“Are you only just now noticing my attempts?” He presses delicate kisses along her throat, soothing over the love marks he had left before. Lane shuts her eyes to revel in the feeling. He pulls her thin top off as well, leaving her bare from the waist up. Feeling uneven, she opens her eyes to grab the edge of his black shirt. He helps her take it off, adjusting his wings to fit through the torn slits.

She runs a hand along the smooth skin of his chest as Cain observes her curiously. His hands keep a firm grip on her waist as her touch descends lower. Undoing his belt with little struggle, she sits up as he pushes the fabric of his pants down and kicks them off.

“My turn.” He smirks as he unbuttons her pants. With some maneuvering, she’s left in just her panties, sitting in his lap. Her heart pounds in her ears as she becomes acutely aware of his hardness straining the fabric of his briefs. Cain shifts to lay back, wings stretching out and hair falling around him like a halo. He’s studying her intently, waiting to see what she’ll do next.

She knows what she wants to do next.

Lane shifts back, settling between his legs. He sits up with interest. If his eyes could burn brighter, she’d be scorched. Slowly tugging his briefs down, she watches his reaction as she grasps his length. His jaw clenches as if holding back. She slowly strokes him as his chest heaves, eyes nearly closing in pleasure.

She tries not to let her nerves show. This wasn’t her strong suit. It hadn’t even been something she liked doing. But oddly, she wanted to. For him. To see him come undone underneath her was something unfathomable.

His fists clench when she takes him into her mouth. He seems almost restrained, as if afraid to be too rough with her. But when she takes his hands and guides them to her hair, she can see the excitement in his eyes. He threads his fingers through the strands, gently tugging in a way that makes her moan around him. Cain shudders at the feeling, eyes shut and tossing his head back.

He’s too big for her to take all the way. She takes her time adjusting, slowly bobbing her head. Every movement makes Cain come even more undone. Pressing her thighs together, she increases her pace. His grip tightens, letting out a breathy noise. When she circles the tip with her tongue, his whole body goes rigid. She can taste his desire, a salty-sweet taste that she finds oddly pleasant. Taking him as deep as her throat allows, she glances up at him.

She’s surprised to find his eyes meeting hers, though half closed and hazy. They flicker intensely in anticipation as she holds him there. He pushes her hair out of her face with one hand, making a makeshift ponytail. She holds the eye contact as she moves. His jaw clenches, and after a few more movements he tugs her hair, pulling her off.

“Not yet.” He manages to say, chest heaving. Lane nods, wiping the spit from her mouth. She’s on a high, knowing she had made him feel such a level of pleasure. He sits up quickly, pressing his mouth to hers. It’s messy and their teeth clash but neither of them care, all too eager. He rips her panties off in one fluid motion, making her gasp into the kiss.

His hand snakes between her thighs, moaning when he realizes just how excited she is. His thumb easily finds her pleasure point, rubbing tight circles that make her gasp and press her face into the crook of his neck.

“Cain…” She whispers softly against his cool skin. He slows his movements, reaching to grasp her jaw and pull her head back just enough to look into her eyes.

“I wouldn’t want to burden you.” He whispers, eyes switching to blue for a moment before flashing back to red once she shakes her head.

“Not a burden. I want to.” He nods in response, helping her getting in position.

She sinks down slowly, the feeling of him inside her just as unreal as the first time. His strong grip steadies her. He’s holding back with a slight difficulty, watching her intensely as she adjusts.

When the pleasant feeling of fullness rushes through her, they both moan softly. Cain smiles, sitting up to press himself impossibly closer. His kiss is surprisingly gentle.

“Good?” He asks. She nods, slowly rocking her hips. His fingers dig into her waist.

“Take all the time you need.” Cain presses a gentle kiss to the small mark on her shoulder left from his bite. She hums, shutting her eyes. As her desire grows, she starts to move. It takes her a few seconds to get used to the position, Cain’s grip guiding her. After a particularly quick movement, pleasure flashes through her. Chasing that sensation, she finds her rhythm. He tilts his head to capture his lips, tugging her down with him as he lays back. His hips thrust up to meet hers as their tongues touch.

She slowly breaks the kiss to hold herself up, wanting to see his face. Their eyes meet, hazy with their shared desire. Their movements begin to speed up, the knot in her stomach tightening. Cain mumbles what sound like curse words in latin as his grip tightens.

Pleasure shoots through her and she nearly melts onto him. He doesn’t let up, prolonging her pleasure as his hips snap up a few more times. His body is tense before suddenly relaxing.

For a few minutes, they both sit in silence, catching their breath. When their heart rates come back to normal, she slips off and lays down beside him. He turns to look at her, calming blue eyes looking at her so warmly it almost makes her shy.

“Are you alright?” He asks, running his fingers along her arm. She hums, moving to rest her head on his chest. His arm slips around to stroke her hair. Noticing the Book still open on her desk, she feels instantly anxious.

“What’s wrong?” Cain asks, tilting to study her expression. She sighs heavily, not even wanting to say it.

“I should get back to work.” Lane notes. He makes a noise of disappointment.

“I should have left that thing in Siberia.” His grip tightens ever so slightly. She can’t help but smile, making no move to get up.

“Maybe you shouldn’t have given it to me.” She teases. He shakes his head, pulling the blanket up and over them.

“If I had known you would get so obsessed with it maybe I wouldn’t have. Now, get some rest. You can work on it tomorrow.” He presses a barely there kiss to the top of her head. Without another word, she shuts her eyes and goes to sleep.

[cursedbycain]

[cursedbycain]

Lane: The man exudes sex Cain: *covered in blood*

[cursedbycain]

It's SO funny to me that Devil's Whisper Lane can control the abominations and the infected with her mind but God's Voice Lane is literally Xena the Warrior Princess lol

[cursedbycain]

Hi I was wondering if you posted on ao3 or something similar bc your fics are actually beyond amazing and I really want to download them on my kindle/phone so I have access to them ‘forever’ but I can’t do that on tumblr 😭

hello love! i do have two of my fics posted on Ao3 under the same username cursedbycain! I'll definitely sit down and post them all at some point since I know a lot of people prefer ao3. But just so you know, I have no intention of ever deactivating this account, even if I do stop writing! So they'll always be here too <3

[cursedbycain]

[cursedbycain]

its a race. call me usain bolt

two kind of besties @cursedbycain @agattthaa

[cursedbycain]

Everytime I think Aleksandra can’t kill Dmitryan more, she finds a way

[cursedbycain]

melody - Cain x Lane

tagging: @rc-catalog and of course @kazu-naito who inspired this because she finally wants her doll to have a piece of joy

synopsis: learning something new is always fun

tw: none! rated G

wc: 2k

Being back in Rotkov is unsettling, to say the least. Lane once again sits in the church to work on the translation, her fingers tracing the pages as dust dances in the slanted beams of light filtering through the stained glass windows. It's odd, being back where it had all started. So much had changed and yet everything had remained untouched, preserved in the amber of time like a perfect, haunting memory.

“Are you cold?” Cain doesn’t wait for an answer, gently draping his jacket over her shoulders. The worn fabric carries his distinctive scent, frosty fresh and mixed something ancient that she could never quite identify but that reminded her of starlight on a winter's night. She tears her eyes away from the Book to look at him for a moment, catching the way the cathedral's ethereal light haloes his tousled blonde hair and casts intriguing shadows across the sculpted planes of his face.

They had left Abel at the estate, under the General's reluctant watch. A weight had seemingly been lifted from Cain's chest, his shoulders no longer bearing the invisible but crushing burden of his brother's presence. The tension that had coiled around him like a serpent had loosened its grip, leaving behind a man slightly more at peace with the cacophony of his eternal existence. She wanted to touch on the subject, suggest reconciliation, but she knew the immortal would come to his own decisions. He was still angry, which didn't help his already tense demeanor, the centuries of resentment etched into the very cells of his body. Something was coming. She could feel it, and Cain could as well, a premonition that hung in the air like the metallic tang before a thunderstorm. Still, they attempted to bury their heads in the sands of whatever was between them, this fragile, unnamed thing that bloomed like spring flowers.

"I'll be right up there." He gestures to the organ, its bronze pipes gleaming in the diffused light. Lane knew he had missed playing while they were at Adam, his fingers often drumming absentmindedly on any available surface, repeating silent symphonies only he could hear. It was the reason he had been so eager to visit the church in Rotkov the second the wheels of the plane hit asphalt.

"I'll come with you." She doesn't want to be too far from Cain. It always left her feeling unsettled when he wasn't around, like a compass needle separated from true north, spinning aimlessly in search of direction. As if something terrible was going to happen and they wouldn't be together for it, left to face the darkness alone in a world already shrouded in shadows.

He picks up the stack of books she had been leafing through, walking next to her as they head over to the organ. Their footsteps create a gentle rhythm against the worn stone floor, polished smooth by countless faithful feet over centuries. She almost feels like she's back in university, making her boyfriend carry her books for her, a slice of normalcy in their extraordinary lives that warms her from within like honey-sweetened tea on a bitter winter morning.

Boyfriend?

She isn't sure what to call Cain. It's not like getting married in the apocalypse was at all possible, with civilization crumbling around them. There was also the issue of his immortality, a river of endless time separating them. But he had told her that out of everyone, out of all the souls he had encountered in his endless existence, he had liked her. So, maybe that was all she needed to know, a confession more precious than any vow spoken.

Cain sets the books on the end of the bench, sitting down to play. He pats the empty space next to him and she sits down. His leg is warm against hers, a steadying presence in the cool air of the cathedral where their breath forms clouds in the chilly atmosphere. Opening the Book, she attempts to focus on the words as Cain begins to play. The ancient text swims before her eyes, each symbol a mystery waiting to be unraveled. She peaks around the cover to watch his nimble fingers dance along the keys, each motion precise and practiced, like a hummingbird darting between flowers.

His eyes are shut so she watches him unashamedly, studying the thick sweep of his eyelashes against his cheeks and the peaceful expression that softens his usually guarded features. The angel was always beautiful. That was obvious, his otherworldly perfection both intimidating and mesmerizing. But he was especially nice to look at when he was at peace, the weight of eternity temporarily lifted from his shoulders. His face transformed in these moments, the hard lines melting into something almost mortal, vulnerability peeking through the cracks of his immortal facade. Something twisted in her heart seeing the way he relaxed as he played his favourite melody, the notes rising to the vaulted ceiling like prayers.

She doesn't notice when his eyes open, too focused on the way his hands move, creating magic from ivory and air. When she glances up to admire his face once more, his bemused expression makes her press her lips together, caught in the act like a child with their hand in the cookie jar, a blush warming her cheeks.

"You play beautifully." She notes, her voice barely audible above the continuing melody that fills the space between them like liquid gold. His playing slows as he regards her curiously, his gaze caressing her face with the same tenderness his fingers show the keys.

"I had a lot of practice." He says casually, the understatement of hundreds of years hanging in the air between them. Taking the Book from her hands, he shuts it and sets it aside, the ancient binding creaking softly.

"Do you want me to teach you?" He offers and excitement at the prospect of learning something new runs through her.

"Depends. Will you smack my hands if I mess up?" She teases lightly and he grins, a rare full smile that transforms his face like sunlight breaking through storm clouds.

"No. Sit here." His arm snakes around her waist, easily pulling her into his lap as if she weighs nothing. She twists to look him in the eyes, raising an eyebrow in silent question. He answers the unasked question with a shrug, the movement rippling through the muscles beneath his thin shirt.

"It's easier this way." His toned chest is pressed against her back, radiating heat like a fire on a winter's night. Lane starts to wonder if she'll be able to retain a single thing he teaches her if they stay in this position, her thoughts scattered like autumn leaves in a gust of wind.

"Relax," He whispers, his breath warm against her skin, sending a shiver down her spine like melting ice, "Just follow my voice." His lips brush against the shell of her ear, soft as butterfly wings.

"It's hard to focus when you're distracting me." She can feel his quiet chuckle from the vibrations against her back, the sound rumbling through his chest and into her own.

"I'm not distracting you. I'm helping you." His hands gently cover hers as he adjusts her fingers against the keys, his touch cool and assured. He brings her index to the middle of the board, gently pressing on a key, the note ringing clear and true in the sacred space.

"This is middle C. You base everything around this key." His voice is low and melodic, a teacher's patience wrapped in velvet tones. Swallowing thickly, she manages a hum in acknowledgement, her throat suddenly as dry as sand.

He goes through D, E, F, G, and back to A and B slowly enough, each note distinct and pure, hanging in the air like crystal ornaments. His cool hands never leave hers as she begins to memorize the movements, the weight and resistance of each key becoming familiar beneath her fingertips. She manages to mostly tune out the feelings his body pressed against hers inspires, focusing instead on the melody, though her heartbeat provides an erratic counterpoint to the structured music.

"You're a natural." He mumbles, pressing a soft kiss to her shoulder that burns through the fabric of her shirt. She smiles, grateful for the fact he can't see how the compliment has affected her, warmth blooming on her cheeks.

"I have a good teacher." She turns slightly to look at him. He's smirking, eyes blood red like crushed rubies. The look used to make her nervous, but now it makes excitement twist in her gut, wild and primal as a storm-tossed sea.

"Let's keep going." He comments. Quickly turning her face away, she rests her fingers on the ivory keys once more, cool and smooth beneath her touch.

"Teach me something else?" Her voice is surprisingly steady, betraying none of the chaos whirling within her. His hands cover hers once again, chin hooking over her shoulder to look at the keys as he positions her fingers.

"This is C major." He presses her fingers down. The chord rings out in the quiet church, harmonious notes blending together and rising to the rafters where ancient beams cradle the sound. He goes through a few more chords before pulling his hands away to rest on her thighs, the weight and warmth of them seeping through her jeans like a promise.

"Now you try." Oddly, she doesn't feel the urge to play without his hands covering hers, missing the gentle guidance of his touch. Half heartedly, she taps out a few chords, the sound hollow and incomplete compared to the music they created together. He taps her waist, leaning in to look at her face, brows drawn together like storm clouds.

"Are you alright?" He looks almost concerned, vulnerability flashing across his features. For a moment, she feels bad for worrying him all because she missed his touch, his constant presence her anchor in the storm of their chaotic world. She nods, sighing tiredly. A heavy weight had settled on her chest, an odd feeling of stress that she just wanted to get rid of in any way possible, like fog pressing down on a valley at dawn.

"Will you play now?" Lane rests against his chest, hands falling to his thighs. He doesn't say anything in response, leaning impossibly closer to her, enveloping her in his presence like a protective cloak. His mouth is pressed to the back of her shoulder, tip of his nose barely peeking over, his breath warm and steady against her skin like a metronome. The immortal looks painfully focused as he plays a slow melody, each note deliberate and meaningful. It's wonderfully calming, like watching snow fall in silence or waves lapping gently at a moonlit shore. She shuts her eyes, letting the music envelop her, wrap around her like a cocoon of sound, sheltering her from the harsh realities that wait beyond the church doors.

She's not sure how much time passes. Maybe hours, the minutes stretching and blending like watercolors on wet paper. But eventually, Cain ceases playing and very gently nudges her, the silence following the music almost tangible in its emptiness.

"We should get back to the estate. Before the others worry we've flown off." He smirks as if the thought had crossed his mind, his eyes glinting with uncharacteristic mischief. In all honesty, she had considered it as well, the temptation to escape with him to some forgotten corner of the world where they could exist in their own bubble of time, outside the constraints of duty and destiny.

"We'll come back tomorrow. Maybe you can teach me more chords?" She suggests, tucking the Book into her jacket, the weight of it against her side a constant reminder of their mission, the burden she carries.

"I'll definitely be teaching you more chords." He smirks, resting his arm on her shoulder and pulling her close, his presence solid and reassuring as the ancient stones beneath their feet.

Maybe being back in Rotkov had its perks.

[cursedbycain]

The squad as Tumblr posts from my For You page

[cursedbycain]

melody - Cain x Lane

tagging: @rc-catalog and of course @kazu-naito who inspired this because she finally wants her doll to have a piece of joy

synopsis: learning something new is always fun

tw: none! rated G

wc: 2k

Being back in Rotkov is unsettling, to say the least. Lane once again sits in the church to work on the translation, her fingers tracing the pages as dust dances in the slanted beams of light filtering through the stained glass windows. It's odd, being back where it had all started. So much had changed and yet everything had remained untouched, preserved in the amber of time like a perfect, haunting memory.

“Are you cold?” Cain doesn’t wait for an answer, gently draping his jacket over her shoulders. The worn fabric carries his distinctive scent, frosty fresh and mixed something ancient that she could never quite identify but that reminded her of starlight on a winter's night. She tears her eyes away from the Book to look at him for a moment, catching the way the cathedral's ethereal light haloes his tousled blonde hair and casts intriguing shadows across the sculpted planes of his face.

They had left Abel at the estate, under the General's reluctant watch. A weight had seemingly been lifted from Cain's chest, his shoulders no longer bearing the invisible but crushing burden of his brother's presence. The tension that had coiled around him like a serpent had loosened its grip, leaving behind a man slightly more at peace with the cacophony of his eternal existence. She wanted to touch on the subject, suggest reconciliation, but she knew the immortal would come to his own decisions. He was still angry, which didn't help his already tense demeanor, the centuries of resentment etched into the very cells of his body. Something was coming. She could feel it, and Cain could as well, a premonition that hung in the air like the metallic tang before a thunderstorm. Still, they attempted to bury their heads in the sands of whatever was between them, this fragile, unnamed thing that bloomed like spring flowers.

"I'll be right up there." He gestures to the organ, its bronze pipes gleaming in the diffused light. Lane knew he had missed playing while they were at Adam, his fingers often drumming absentmindedly on any available surface, repeating silent symphonies only he could hear. It was the reason he had been so eager to visit the church in Rotkov the second the wheels of the plane hit asphalt.

"I'll come with you." She doesn't want to be too far from Cain. It always left her feeling unsettled when he wasn't around, like a compass needle separated from true north, spinning aimlessly in search of direction. As if something terrible was going to happen and they wouldn't be together for it, left to face the darkness alone in a world already shrouded in shadows.

He picks up the stack of books she had been leafing through, walking next to her as they head over to the organ. Their footsteps create a gentle rhythm against the worn stone floor, polished smooth by countless faithful feet over centuries. She almost feels like she's back in university, making her boyfriend carry her books for her, a slice of normalcy in their extraordinary lives that warms her from within like honey-sweetened tea on a bitter winter morning.

Boyfriend?

She isn't sure what to call Cain. It's not like getting married in the apocalypse was at all possible, with civilization crumbling around them. There was also the issue of his immortality, a river of endless time separating them. But he had told her that out of everyone, out of all the souls he had encountered in his endless existence, he had liked her. So, maybe that was all she needed to know, a confession more precious than any vow spoken.

Cain sets the books on the end of the bench, sitting down to play. He pats the empty space next to him and she sits down. His leg is warm against hers, a steadying presence in the cool air of the cathedral where their breath forms clouds in the chilly atmosphere. Opening the Book, she attempts to focus on the words as Cain begins to play. The ancient text swims before her eyes, each symbol a mystery waiting to be unraveled. She peaks around the cover to watch his nimble fingers dance along the keys, each motion precise and practiced, like a hummingbird darting between flowers.

His eyes are shut so she watches him unashamedly, studying the thick sweep of his eyelashes against his cheeks and the peaceful expression that softens his usually guarded features. The angel was always beautiful. That was obvious, his otherworldly perfection both intimidating and mesmerizing. But he was especially nice to look at when he was at peace, the weight of eternity temporarily lifted from his shoulders. His face transformed in these moments, the hard lines melting into something almost mortal, vulnerability peeking through the cracks of his immortal facade. Something twisted in her heart seeing the way he relaxed as he played his favourite melody, the notes rising to the vaulted ceiling like prayers.

She doesn't notice when his eyes open, too focused on the way his hands move, creating magic from ivory and air. When she glances up to admire his face once more, his bemused expression makes her press her lips together, caught in the act like a child with their hand in the cookie jar, a blush warming her cheeks.

"You play beautifully." She notes, her voice barely audible above the continuing melody that fills the space between them like liquid gold. His playing slows as he regards her curiously, his gaze caressing her face with the same tenderness his fingers show the keys.

"I had a lot of practice." He says casually, the understatement of hundreds of years hanging in the air between them. Taking the Book from her hands, he shuts it and sets it aside, the ancient binding creaking softly.

"Do you want me to teach you?" He offers and excitement at the prospect of learning something new runs through her.

"Depends. Will you smack my hands if I mess up?" She teases lightly and he grins, a rare full smile that transforms his face like sunlight breaking through storm clouds.

"No. Sit here." His arm snakes around her waist, easily pulling her into his lap as if she weighs nothing. She twists to look him in the eyes, raising an eyebrow in silent question. He answers the unasked question with a shrug, the movement rippling through the muscles beneath his thin shirt.

"It's easier this way." His toned chest is pressed against her back, radiating heat like a fire on a winter's night. Lane starts to wonder if she'll be able to retain a single thing he teaches her if they stay in this position, her thoughts scattered like autumn leaves in a gust of wind.

"Relax," He whispers, his breath warm against her skin, sending a shiver down her spine like melting ice, "Just follow my voice." His lips brush against the shell of her ear, soft as butterfly wings.

"It's hard to focus when you're distracting me." She can feel his quiet chuckle from the vibrations against her back, the sound rumbling through his chest and into her own.

"I'm not distracting you. I'm helping you." His hands gently cover hers as he adjusts her fingers against the keys, his touch cool and assured. He brings her index to the middle of the board, gently pressing on a key, the note ringing clear and true in the sacred space.

"This is middle C. You base everything around this key." His voice is low and melodic, a teacher's patience wrapped in velvet tones. Swallowing thickly, she manages a hum in acknowledgement, her throat suddenly as dry as sand.

He goes through D, E, F, G, and back to A and B slowly enough, each note distinct and pure, hanging in the air like crystal ornaments. His cool hands never leave hers as she begins to memorize the movements, the weight and resistance of each key becoming familiar beneath her fingertips. She manages to mostly tune out the feelings his body pressed against hers inspires, focusing instead on the melody, though her heartbeat provides an erratic counterpoint to the structured music.

"You're a natural." He mumbles, pressing a soft kiss to her shoulder that burns through the fabric of her shirt. She smiles, grateful for the fact he can't see how the compliment has affected her, warmth blooming on her cheeks.

"I have a good teacher." She turns slightly to look at him. He's smirking, eyes blood red like crushed rubies. The look used to make her nervous, but now it makes excitement twist in her gut, wild and primal as a storm-tossed sea.

"Let's keep going." He comments. Quickly turning her face away, she rests her fingers on the ivory keys once more, cool and smooth beneath her touch.

"Teach me something else?" Her voice is surprisingly steady, betraying none of the chaos whirling within her. His hands cover hers once again, chin hooking over her shoulder to look at the keys as he positions her fingers.

"This is C major." He presses her fingers down. The chord rings out in the quiet church, harmonious notes blending together and rising to the rafters where ancient beams cradle the sound. He goes through a few more chords before pulling his hands away to rest on her thighs, the weight and warmth of them seeping through her jeans like a promise.

"Now you try." Oddly, she doesn't feel the urge to play without his hands covering hers, missing the gentle guidance of his touch. Half heartedly, she taps out a few chords, the sound hollow and incomplete compared to the music they created together. He taps her waist, leaning in to look at her face, brows drawn together like storm clouds.

"Are you alright?" He looks almost concerned, vulnerability flashing across his features. For a moment, she feels bad for worrying him all because she missed his touch, his constant presence her anchor in the storm of their chaotic world. She nods, sighing tiredly. A heavy weight had settled on her chest, an odd feeling of stress that she just wanted to get rid of in any way possible, like fog pressing down on a valley at dawn.

"Will you play now?" Lane rests against his chest, hands falling to his thighs. He doesn't say anything in response, leaning impossibly closer to her, enveloping her in his presence like a protective cloak. His mouth is pressed to the back of her shoulder, tip of his nose barely peeking over, his breath warm and steady against her skin like a metronome. The immortal looks painfully focused as he plays a slow melody, each note deliberate and meaningful. It's wonderfully calming, like watching snow fall in silence or waves lapping gently at a moonlit shore. She shuts her eyes, letting the music envelop her, wrap around her like a cocoon of sound, sheltering her from the harsh realities that wait beyond the church doors.

She's not sure how much time passes. Maybe hours, the minutes stretching and blending like watercolors on wet paper. But eventually, Cain ceases playing and very gently nudges her, the silence following the music almost tangible in its emptiness.

"We should get back to the estate. Before the others worry we've flown off." He smirks as if the thought had crossed his mind, his eyes glinting with uncharacteristic mischief. In all honesty, she had considered it as well, the temptation to escape with him to some forgotten corner of the world where they could exist in their own bubble of time, outside the constraints of duty and destiny.

"We'll come back tomorrow. Maybe you can teach me more chords?" She suggests, tucking the Book into her jacket, the weight of it against her side a constant reminder of their mission, the burden she carries.

"I'll definitely be teaching you more chords." He smirks, resting his arm on her shoulder and pulling her close, his presence solid and reassuring as the ancient stones beneath their feet.

Maybe being back in Rotkov had its perks.

[cursedbycain]

They’ve kissed once btw

[cursedbycain]

She’s so funny