nishas-paradise

[nishas-paradise]

I don't know who made this but kudos to them because wow, this art is so beautiful 😍❤️

(where is Anna though?)

[nishas-paradise]

Unfamiliar Feelings

Pairing: Dmitry x Lane.

Content Warning (18+): This work contains mature themes, including explicit sexual content. It is intended for adult audiences only. Reader discretion is advised. By proceeding, you confirm that you are 18 years of age or older.

Summary: A restless night at the abandoned station turns into a passionate one as a worried Lane finds herself in Dmitry's room in the middle of the night, tending to his wounds.

Sometimes, silence and the quietness of the night are a blessing. After a long, noisy, and busy day, it feels like you've been running at full speed, waiting eagerly to reach the finish line. You welcome the calm with open arms, surrendering to it, allowing it to carry you away from the problems of this corrupted world, if only for a few hours.

But sometimes, that same calm and quiet become your worst nightmare. You'd rather be surrounded by crowds and noise than alone inside your own head. Alone with your thoughts—the thoughts which never shut up. The harder you try to silence them, the worse they become. It feels like your mind has become a prison, and you're trapped inside it. There’s no prison worse than your own mind, no one knows better how to torture you more than yourself. After all, your mind knows your deepest fears and weaknesses. It’s where your demons hide.

The quietness of the night was never easy on me. My nights at the base usually ended with my pillow soaked wet in tears, memories of home leaving me painfully homesick. I never thought I'd miss home. My childhood wasn't easy at home but my days at the base taught me that there are always worse days. 

And I was right. Because this night beats every single night spent at the base. I’ve never experienced anything like this before. I don’t think I’ve ever felt so many emotions at once. It’s overwhelming, and I feel like I can’t breathe. Ever since I regained some of my memories and emotions, I’ve been struggling to control them. It’s like my feelings have intensified, and I don’t know how to deal with them anymore. Especially after being numb for so long. The numbness and emptiness weren’t easy, but it was certainly easier to deal with than this.

When did I start caring so much about losing someone? When did I start worrying about someone else not being able to fall sleep? When did I start worrying about him? Why am I thinking about him at four am in the early morning? Why am I so afraid of losing him? When did I get attached?

Was it when he gave up his last breath to save me under the icy water? Or was it when we were stranded in that lost base, relying on each other to survive? Or was it when he threw himself between me and the infected, taking the bite to protect me?

I don’t know when it happened. But what I do know is that I’m awake again tonight, completely deprived of sleep because I’m terrified of waking up to my worst nightmare—staring into monstrous, empty eyes instead of his icy blue ones. The thought chills me to the bone. And suddenly, I feel so cold.

Your hand is cold, I hear his voice inside my head.

Anna and Kira slept soundly beside me, their breathing steady and rhythmic. I envied their peace, their ability to find solace even in this twisted world. I hadn’t had a full night’s sleep in days, and the exhaustion was starting to creep into my bones, making my limbs heavy and my mind foggy. But I couldn’t let myself rest, not fully. Not when the fear was so palpable, so close.

Then I heard it—a soft, almost imperceptible sound coming from the room down the hall. My body tensed, my senses sharpening. It wasn’t loud enough to wake Anna or Kira, but it was enough to rouse me from my restless thoughts. Slowly, I slipped out of bed, careful not to make a sound. I crept to the door, my heart pounding in my chest, and peeked into the dark hallway.

The sound came again, a low grunt, followed by a faint rustling. Something wasn’t right. My first thought was that something happened to Dmitry, and without hesitating, I moved toward the source, my bare feet padding silently across the cold floor. 

I reached the room where Dmitry had been staying since his recovery began. The door was slightly ajar, and as I approached, I hesitated. What if it wasn’t safe? What if something had gone wrong with Dmitry’s recovery? The thought made my heart skip a beat, but I pushed it aside. Dmitry was strong, stronger than anyone I knew. He wouldn’t go down without a fight.

Taking a deep breath, I gently pushed the door open and stepped inside.

My eyes found him immediately. Dmitry stood by the bed, his back to me. He was shirtless, his broad, scarred shoulders and back illuminated by the candlelight as he fumbled with something in his hands. As my gaze traveled down, I noticed the gauze wrapped around his arms and torso, stained with dark, dried blood.

I gasped softly, the sound slipping out before I could stop it. Dmitry’s head snapped up, and he turned to face me, his expression a mix of surprise and something unreadable. I immediately averted my eyes, feeling heat rush to my cheeks.

“I’m sorry, I—” I stammered, stepping back toward the door. “I didn’t mean to intrude…”

“Lane” Dmitry said, his voice low and calm, but I could hear the tension beneath it. “It's alright.”.

I paused, my hand on the doorframe, my heart racing. But then I remembered the blood, and concern overrode my embarrassment. I turned back to face him, my eyes darting to the gauze. “You’re bleeding,” I said, my voice soft but filled with worry. “Are you… okay?”

Dmitry looked down at himself, then back at me, a wry smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “I’m fine,” he said, though the weariness in his voice suggested otherwise. “Just need to change the gauze. Usually, Anna helps, but she hasn’t been sleeping well because of me, so…” He shrugged as if it were no big deal, but I could see the strain in his movements, the exhaustion that mirrored my own.

“I can help,” I offered quickly, stepping further into the room. My voice was steady, but inside, I was anything but. The idea of touching him, of being so close, sent my heart into a wild, erratic rhythm, but I couldn’t ignore the need to help him. “If you want,” I added, my tone softer, more tentative.

Dmitry looked at me for a long moment, his dark eyes searching mine as if trying to gauge something. Finally, he nodded. “Alright” he said quietly, turning his back to me again. 

I swallowed hard, trying to steady my nerves as I approached him. I picked up the fresh gauze from the table, my fingers trembling slightly. As I reached out to unwind the old bandages, my eyes were drawn to the scars that marred his back—deep, ragged lines that told stories I didn’t want to imagine. I hesitated, my fingers hovering just above his skin, afraid of causing him pain.

But Dmitry didn’t flinch or pull away. “They don’t hurt,” he said, his voice soft but firm, as if he could read my thoughts. “Not anymore.”

My breath caught in my throat as I carefully touched the scars, my fingers barely brushing against his skin. The contact was light, almost reverent, as if I was afraid of breaking something fragile. But I didn’t pull away. Instead, I began to gently unwrap the old gauze, my movements slow and deliberate.

As I worked, Dmitry remained silent, his breathing steady but deep, almost as if he were holding back something. The room felt charged, every slight movement, every brush of fingers against skin, seemed to echo in the silence between us. His piercing blue eyes watching me closely whenever I found myself infront of him, causing my fingers to shake, making me feel even more nervous. 

When the old bandages were finally removed, I couldn’t help but pause, my gaze tracing the fresh wounds beneath. They weren’t as bad as I’d feared, but they were still raw, a stark reminder of how close I’d come to losing him.

I swallowed the lump in my throat and reached for the new gauze. As I began to wrap it around his torso, my fingers brushed against his skin again, and this time, I didn’t pull away as quickly. Dmitry’s body was warm beneath my touch, his muscles tense but unyielding. There was a quiet strength in him, even now, and it made my heart ache.

I found myself focusing on the rhythm of my movements, the methodical wrapping of the gauze, anything to keep my mind from spiraling. But it was impossible to ignore the intimacy of the moment, the way my fingers seemed to memorize the feel of him—each scar, each line of muscle beneath his skin.

Finally, when the gauze was secure, I allowed my hands to linger for just a moment longer, my fingers lightly tracing one of the scars on his back. The gesture was almost instinctual, an unconscious need to soothe, to comfort. But as soon as I realized what I was doing, I froze, my heart hammering in my chest.

Dmitry stiffens, and I freeze. I’ve crossed a line. But then, he turns to face me. His eyes, usually so guarded, are dark now, unreadable. I try to step back, but I bump into the closet behind me. Before I can lose my balance, his arm snakes around my waist, catching me.

The world stills. His grip tightens, pulling me closer, pressing me against the warmth of his chest. My breath catches as our eyes lock. The air between us is charged, pulsing with a tension that has been building for so long. Too long.

His smoldering eyes drop to my lips “Lane,” he whispers, his voice hoarse, rough with restraint.

My pulse races, my heart pounding as I lean in, drawn to him like gravity. His gaze darkens, and for a second, time seems to stop.

Then, as if we’ve both reached our breaking point, we collide.

His lips crash against mine with a force that sends sparks through me. The kiss is hungry, desperate, fueled by everything we’ve been holding back. His hand sliding up my back, pulling me impossibly closer. My hands tangle in his hair, gripping tightly, as if letting go would mean losing him forever. 

Dmitry growls low in his throat, deepening the kiss, his lips moving with an urgency that sends my mind spinning. I can feel the raw intensity in every touch, the unspoken emotions finally breaking free, pouring into the space between us. It’s a kiss filled with all the things we haven’t said—all the fear, the need, the longing.

I lose myself in it, in him, as his hands roam my body, as if trying to memorize every curve, every inch. His mouth leaves mine, trailing down my jaw, my neck, hot and breathless. He groans taking in my scent, before returning to claim my lips again. 

His commanding possessive hands and body push me backwards as his kisses intensify, he slams me against the closet, causing a loud creak to echo throughout the whole building. We abruptly stop and stare into each other's eyes breathless as the realization of what just happened weighs in. 

I swallow hard as I stare into his dark, hungry and feral eyes pining me against the closet with their intensity. And I suddenly feel like a prey trapped between his large muscular arms. The warmth of his skin and the smell of his scent making me dizzy and lightheaded. My heart is beating so fast that I hear it ringing in my ears, and heat rushes to my cheeks as his eyes filled with unspoken longing and need drop down to my lips again. 

No man has ever stared at me like that. No man has ever wanted me like that. And no one has ever made me feel so wanted, so craved, like this before. My whole life, I always felt unwanted. It all started with my mother, followed by a long chain of failed relationships. Now this chain is broken by Dmitry as he stares at me in a way that sends chills and delicious sensations through my body. I don't know how to handle this - being wanted. But I love these unfamiliar overwhelming feelings this time.

I swallow hard and barely manage to say "I should probably go" staring deeply into his intense blue eyes "You should..." He says, moving closer again and catching my lips in a deep slow kiss, savoring me, one last time. Then, with visible effort, he pulls himself away from me. 

"Go... Before I kiss you again...". 

[nishas-paradise]

Quiet Yearning

Pairing: Dmitry & Lane.

Word Count: 1555 words.

Summary: Dmitry confronts new feelings for Lane after he wakes up as a human.

It had been a few days since Dmitry woke up. Almost two weeks since the bite, the moment he’d thrown himself between Lane and the infected without a second thought. He didn’t hesitate, not even for a second. But since then, Dmitry had kept to himself, distancing himself from the squad. No one was sure if he wouldn’t suddenly turn, becoming the very monster they all feared. He needed time—to recover, mentally and physically. He still gave them orders, though he couldn’t afford to show weakness to his squad; they looked up to him, depended on him. But deep down, Dmitry knew these weren’t the only reasons for his isolation. Something else gnawed at him, something elusive and unsettling that he hadn’t yet allowed himself to confront.

Now, as he sat on a rock in the dark, watching the squad from a distance in the relative safety of the abandoned building they had secured, Dmitry knew he couldn’t delay this confrontation any longer. Running away wasn’t his style. He had never been a coward, never avoided facing his darkest thoughts and feelings. Not even his worst and darkest demons. So he sat there, trying to understand himself, his gaze inevitably drawn to her.

Lane sat among the squad members, an unusual sight in itself. She was like him, more comfortable on the fringes, isolated most of the time. Quiet and calculating. He had nearly died three times protecting her and something inside of him told him that he would do it again and again if it comes down to it and that realization frightened him. Was he getting attached to someone again? The memory of those moments when he sacrificed himself for her still haunted him, but what disturbed him more was the unfamiliar feeling that had taken root in his chest since then. It wasn’t fear or anger, but something more complicated, more dangerous.

She was at the edge of the table now, her notebook open before her, lost in thought as she tried to solve whatever problem had captured her attention. The tip of her pen hovered above the page, and a deep frown creased her brow. Unconsciously, she bit down on her lower lip—a small, innocent gesture, but one that held him captive.

He watched her, every detail of her absorbed focus drawing him in. The way her teeth pressed into her lip, the slight furrow of her brow—it sent a familiar ache through his chest, one that he’d been trying to ignore. She was unaware of his gaze, lost in her own world, but the sight of her mouth pulled him back to a memory he could never escape.

It had only been a few days ago, but it felt like another lifetime. They had been underwater, the cold, dark depths pressing in on them as they fought to survive. He could still feel the icy water, the burn in his lungs as his air ran out. And then, there was Lane, her wide, desperate eyes locking onto his as they both realized their only chance.

He had pressed his mouth to hers, an act born of necessity but charged with something far deeper. The shock of her lips against his, soft yet unyielding, had jolted him even as he breathed his last bit of air into her lungs. She had responded instantly, opening her mouth to him, pulling him closer as they clung to each other in that suspended moment between life and death. They had saved each other that day, their lives intertwined in a way that could never be undone.

Now, watching her bite her lip in that same unconscious way, he felt the echo of that moment ripple through him. She was so absorbed in her notes, so oblivious to his presence, but all he could think about was how those lips had felt against his—how they had clung to each other with a desperation that went beyond survival.

He forced himself to look away, the memory stirring something deep within him, something he wasn’t sure he was ready to face yet. But the image of her, biting her lip in that thoughtful way, lingered in his mind, a reminder of the connection they shared—a connection forged in the most intense of circumstances, now left unspoken in the quiet moments between them.

He’d noticed how she hesitated lately, how she seemed to want to talk to him but always held back. Dmitry had been avoiding her, too. He didn’t know how to act around her anymore, not after everything they had gone through. He wasn’t sure he could be as professional as before. He was the General, after all, and she was becoming his weakness. He had never struggled with something like this before. Being harsh and direct with others wasn't so hard before, he got used to it. It was necessary to assert his boundaries as a General and keep himself detached from people. After all, he didn't need a repeat of what happened to his old best friend Pavel. He just can't go through something like that again. He wouldn't allow it. 

His eyes sought her out again though. She was speaking with the squad members, her usual reserved demeanor firmly in place. But then, something unexpected happened—a soft, genuine smile tugged at the corners of her lips. For a moment, he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. Lane, who had always been a fortress of calm indifference, was smiling.

The sight hit him like a punch to the chest, stealing his breath. It wasn’t just any smile—it was a smile that lit up her eyes, transforming her face in a way he’d never seen before. She looked different, more alive, more a part of the living world that used to be before everything turned to dust and ashes. The squad’s laughter echoed in the distance, it seemed that they were making fun of Kira again, and for the first time, Lane was right there with them, blending in, becoming one of them.

He felt a surge of happiness, a warm rush of relief that she was finally finding her place among the others, his squad. He had always wanted this for her—to see her open up, to see her belong. But that warmth was quickly overshadowed by a sharp pang of something else, something bitter that lodged itself deep in his chest.

Jealousy. He recognized it immediately, and it left a sour taste in his mouth. He wanted that smile to be his, to be directed at him, not them. She had never smiled like that at him—never given him that glimpse of who she could be when she let her guard down. The realization gnawed at him, twisting the happiness he had felt moments before into something more complicated, more painful.

He looked away, trying to shake the feeling, but it lingered, a reminder that Lane was becoming part of the squad—a part of something he wasn’t entirely included in. His position as General kept him apart, always observing from a distance, never quite one of them. And now, seeing her smile like that, it reminded him just how far away he really was.

Still, he couldn’t help but steal another glance in her direction, hoping—just hoping—that one day, she might look at him that way. That she might smile for him, too.

He watched as she gathered her blonde curls, twisting them deftly into a ponytail. With each movement, more of her neck was exposed—a delicate curve that seemed to invite his gaze. The way her fingers brushed against her skin, almost absentmindedly, sent a quiet thrill through him. It was such a simple act, yet he found himself captivated, his pulse quickening.

There was something mesmerizing about the way her hair slipped through her hands, the tendrils that escaped framing her face like a soft halo. As she secured the ponytail, her head tilted slightly, offering him an unobstructed view of the elegant line of her neck. He couldn’t help but think of how vulnerable and graceful she looked in that moment, a mixture of strength and softness that drew him in even more.

He imagined pressing his lips to that exposed skin, feeling her warmth beneath his touch. The thought made his breath hitch, and he wondered if she had any idea just how alluring she was, even in such a simple, everyday act.

"Dmitry?"

Anna's sudden presence right next to him, jolted Dmitry back to reality. Realizing where his thoughts had led him, he shook his head in disbelief and quickly stood up facing Anna. He was hoping that his face expressions didn't give him away. After all, Anna is his sister and she can read him better than anyone else. She had a confused expression on her face as she stared at Lane and then right back at him again, as if trying to read him. 

"Is everything okay? Did Lane- " Anna tried to ask before Dmitry cut her off mid-sentence.

"Everything is fine. I'll be inside preparing for our departure." He said, making his way back inside immediately, feeling someone’s gaze on his back, the memory of her smile and the warmth of her skin haunting him every step of the way.

[nishas-paradise]

☆ David x Audrey

"How does he look at me?"

"Like he never wants to look away."

[nishas-paradise]

And so, it's not the best job I've ever had, but again, it was totally unplanned. I was totally immersed in the orders and I was so tired of doing them that I just decided to doodle… and that's how this came about. After a few lines, I thought, why not give it a shot and try some new painting techniques and gradient maps at the same time…

and I did. I loved it.

Will I keep using these techniques? Yeah, for sure.

Do I love the drawing? Nah, not really.

And, gosh, I hate drawing people in profile.

[nishas-paradise]

[nishas-paradise]

[nishas-paradise]

[nishas-paradise]

[nishas-paradise]

Their characters' development is chef's kiss... 💋🥺😍❤️🔥

[nishas-paradise]

you were meant to be our salvation and we were meant to be yours

[nishas-paradise]

[nishas-paradise]

[nishas-paradise]

Pretenses

It's time for Dmitry x Lane #4! Part 1 is here, Part 2 here, and Part 3 here.

Title: "Pretenses"

Summary: Called into the General's office to bandage the wounds she gave him the night before, Lane wonders—has the madness that gripped them last night passed, or will it take new form in the light of a new day?

Pairing: Lane x Dmitry [Heaven’s Secret: Requiem]

Word Count: 2,036

Rating: T

TW: None

Taglist: @rc-catalog

Pretenses

The walk from the training field to the building that housed Dmitry’s office was quick, but it could have taken an eternity. Lane spent the entire time carefully schooling her features into what she hoped was an impassive façade as an unpleasant fear of being exposed gnawed at the edges of her mind.

She wanted, needed, this to appear to be nothing but two colleagues, a squad member and her superior officer, walking together.

Every time she stole a glance at Dmitry, it appeared that that was what he wanted, too—he walked slowly, matching her pace, but he didn’t look at her. The calm, detached look she had gotten used to never left his face, every inch the untouchable General leading his subordinate through ordinary operations.

To an outside observer, nothing would seem amiss. A veteran of a childhood spent hiding her true feelings and play-acting at perfection while the truth rotted in the lonely corners of her family home, Lane considered herself an expert at revealing only what she wanted to. But she couldn’t stop herself from wondering—if he were to look at her, would he see something she didn’t know how to hide?

She suspected that he, the only one in the squad who had managed to pull genuine reactions, genuine feelings, from recesses of her soul she thought she’d lost, just might. But what she couldn’t grasp, the question driving her mad, was what that something might be.

As they drew near the building, he opened the door and gestured for her to precede him into the lobby and up the stairs. She had climbed these stairs many times before, but never like this—every other time she had been called to the General’s office, there had been a professional pretense. She had entered his office as a squad member delivering progress reports or, as was the case last night, as a suspect in Noah’s disappearance. There had always been defensible reasons for her presence.

Today was different. Today, she was entering his office as a woman who had attacked him last night. A woman who had thrown herself at him and kissed him. And now, she had been explicitly invited to his office to bandage the wound she’d given him.

The door of his office closed behind them, and, steeling herself, she turned to face him.

Remember why you’re here.

Answers. The Book. Not for him.

*****

The training session hadn’t gone how he’d planned. He’d had every intention of treating this like any other training session he would have planned with any other new recruit, and those certainly didn’t involve orchestrating situations where he would have to touch them. Fall into the snow with them. Hold them against his body.

Reveal personal information about himself.

There was something about the way she looked at him with a carefully impassive face, but a question always lurking in her eyes. She needed something from him. What that was, he wasn’t sure, but a nagging desire to find out hadn’t left his thoughts in days.

Dmitry was no stranger to people needing things from him—as the squad’s leader, people needed things from him all day, every day. Orders, information, assurance. He gave it all, as easy as breathing. It was one of few things that made sense in his life nowadays.

With Lane, it was different. The only thing she had asked him for was information he didn’t have, and the only thing she had given him were more questions. She left him wanting, wondering, in ways he hadn’t experienced since before the apocalypse had begun to chip away at his humanity.

None of his painstakingly honed coping mechanisms worked with her—it was impossible to respond to her with the rote discipline that was enough for every other member of the squad. Even now, trying and failing not to watch her as he followed her up the stairs, he was reminded of that fact.

I should have gone first.

But he hadn’t, and so he watched her. The way her long hair swayed gently against her back, the way her hands brushed against her thighs, the way her muscles tensed and released as she climbed. And as the door shut behind them and she turned to face him, he realized, in a fatalistic sort of way, this isn’t going to go according to plan, either.

*****

Lane held her breath, feeling her heart skip a beat as her eyes met his. He was watching her—looked like he had already been watching her—with an odd expression on his face. Still alert, still cautious, but almost...curious. Like he had accepted something, and wanted to know what would happen next.

She wanted to know, too.

“There’s gauze and medical scissors in my desk,” he said, crossing the office to sit down tiredly on the old green couch. “Top left. Don’t go rummaging around, and don’t think of trying anything. They’re not sharp enough.”

She shot him a quick, searching look—did he really let me in here thinking I might attack him again?—but he looked relaxed, one corner of his mouth lifted in a small smile. So she nodded, returning the smile, and went to his desk, where she quickly found what she needed. Unspooling the gauze, she cut off a length, then made a show of returning the scissors to the desk, loudly closing the drawer, and displaying her hands to him.

The playfulness of the moment quickly vanished, swallowed up by a strange, swooping sensation that flowed through her entire body, when she was rewarded with an indulgent look that almost thawed the ice in his eyes.

What is this feeling?

 Taking a deep, steadying breath, she approached him. She would have to get close to him, very close, to do this, and touch him in ways she hadn’t before. Softly, gently. Trying not to consider the implications of what she was about to do, the professional barriers she was about to consciously cross, she reached for him and tentatively touched the bandages.

Her fingers were icy against his neck, and he flinched, small tremors racing across his skin. She drew back slightly, watching his reaction to her, before whispering, “I’m sorry.”

“It’s nothing,” he said quietly, shifting back to where he was before.

Whatever it is, I’m not the only one feeling it.

She rubbed her hands together, trying to warm them, before reaching out again and gently unwinding the bandage from his neck. There it was—the wound she had left last night. Her resolve crumbled as she stared at it, remembering—

Moving as one, lips crashing together—

Her back, pressed against the cool window—

A sharp bite, a jolt of life running through her—

Warmth, connection, understanding—

She bit her lip, searching for a distraction, then cursed herself as she realized that she couldn’t have possibly found a worse thing to take her mind off of last night. “I—” she fumbled, looking for something, anything. “Does it hurt?”

With an effort that looked almost palpable, he looked away from her lips and sighed. “No,” he said, a hand stealing towards the jagged scar on his left elbow. “I’ve had worse.”

She nodded mutely, wondering if she already knew the story behind that scar and who had given it to him, as she carefully wrapped a length of fresh gauze around his neck. Her fingers brushed against his skin often, and he didn’t lean away, didn’t stop her. He was just still, breathing evenly, allowing her to touch him.

Her task finished, she stepped back and cautiously met his eyes again. Almost immediately, another small jolt ran through her body—he was watching her again, his gaze calculating, as if he were trying to figure something out. Something about her. And as she returned his gaze, she realized, I don’t want to leave. I want answers, too.

Last night had brought nothing but more questions, questions she had turned over and over in her mind all day. Why had she kissed him? Why had warmth spread through her entire body every time he touched her? Why had he, so cold and detached, kissed her back, as if the distraction of the shattered lamp had been the only thing stopping him from ripping her clothes off right then and there?

Would I have let him?

Her eyes trained on him, waiting for a response, she moved slowly, carefully. First from his side to in front of him, then bolder—forward, in between his legs. He didn’t stop her, just tracked her movements with his intent gaze. She needed to know—will it be the same today? Or has this strange madness passed in the light of a new day?

He still wasn’t stopping her. Instead, his hands found her waist, touching her lightly. There was no strength in his grip, just a gentle touch that would have allowed her to step back at any moment if she wanted. But I don’t want that, she realized with sudden clarity. I want to know.

With her heart in her throat and vitality racing through her veins, she reached out tentative hands, one to his face and the other to his neck as she leaned down. There would be no going back after this—there would be no adrenaline, no pretense, to blame this on. There was only a conscious decision that she had made, and that he supported.

She kissed him softly, gently, slowly. He answered in kind, accepting this for what it was: a question, an exploration.

Can you help me feel? Can you help me understand what I’ve lost?

It seemed the answer was yes, as her body warmed and strange sensations swam through her head, too foreign for her to name but too tantalizing for her to walk away from. His lips were soft against hers, his hands tightening—don’t stop—around her waist. She sighed against his lips as a deep desire, more, rose in her, and she moved forward again, into his lap with one knee on each side of his body.

One of his arms looped around her back, pulling her in closer, as he raised his other hand to her hair, wrapping it around his fist. A soft “oh!” escaped her mouth, and he took the opportunity to deepen the kiss as she sighed into him.

As she touched him, explored him, tasted him, she realized—it’s not just the kiss. It’s him. His hands exploring her body, his tongue teasing hers, his lips warming her from the inside out—everything she thought she had lost began to coalesce, and for once, she felt hope that maybe, just maybe, she would be able to find what she was missing. To recognize herself again in the ruins of this strange new world.

To understand him and what drove him, and unravel her feelings for him.

She drew back at last, nearly holding her breath. She had begun to answer her own questions in his arms, but she had to see him—to know if he would regret having crossed this line with her.

His gaze was inscrutable as he looked up at her. He was still so close to her, his chest warm and firm against hers, his hands still resting on her back, his eyes searching hers. The only thing she was sure of was that there was no regret. She had seen that expression darkening his eyes before and didn’t recognize it now. There were traces of something else, something wild and fleeting that she couldn’t identify, but no regret.

“Lane...” he said quietly, her name falling from his lips like a secret. Then he fell silent, looking away.

Maybe he doesn’t know what to do next?

“We don’t have to,” she murmured. “Not now.”

He looked at her again, relieved. “All right. Later.”

No, the madness hadn’t passed. It still gripped her, and him as well—and maybe, just maybe, it wasn’t actually madness at all, but something she had never truly felt before, something with new depths to explore. A mystery just as tempting as the Book, and perhaps just as dangerous, too—but one that she wanted to decipher just as badly.

With him.

[nishas-paradise]

Burn

Paring: Cassiel/Audrey

Word count: 1.110

Rating: T

Summary: Because Cassiel touch burned.

Tagging: @rc-catalog

Her waist burned.

She could feel the exact point where the shirt had climbed a bit and his fingers had touched her bare skin. She could feel her hands inching from the way she had rested them against his chest. Her hands were still slightly shaken as if she could still feel his heartbeat under her fingertips.

Her face burned.

As soon as she realized what was going on, where she was sitting. As soon as she noticed his gaze upon her, filled with mysterious desires and emotions that she desperately wanted to decipher, but without letting him do the same to her. As soon as she noticed in his gaze that he was already trying to.

Her hands burned.

She could still feel his body all under her skin. The way her hands touched his chest, abdomen, thighs, and… She could still feel how hot his clothed body fell against hers. Her hands, usually so cold, were still warm, and she stopped herself before she imagined how much hotter it would be if it was directly touching her.

She could feel his eyes watching her even when she was not looking at him. In any other situation, she would now be making jokes over his embarrassment. About the fact that he almost dropped a vase and himself simply trying to get out of her bed.

But she didn’t, and he noticed.

It was like the four steps they were apart were an entire sea that both refused to cross. Too scared of what they would find in its waters, too scared of what they would find on the other side.

They didn’t get shy with each other.

Their entire relationship, that’s it, if their strange dynamics could be called that, was never based on shyness, in shame, or embarrassment.

He bit, she bit back. She would joke around, making fun of him, and he would pretend to be annoyed and then soon enough smile. He would hold her in his arms, breathing her in for as long as he could, pretending that it was for her own safety, and for probably longer than he should, and she would hold anywhere she could reach, his arm, his neck, his shoulder, and smiling after, completely devoid of shame. She would shamelessly watch his body, and he wouldn’t say anything, he couldn’t really, because he did the same, his eyes lingering on her just enough so she wouldn’t notice. She always did.

He could leave her room right now. He probably should. He should walk out and pretend that nothing happened. That everything was as usual with them. He would make a joke about her having a wolf and being scared by a tiny bat, and she would probably roll her eyes and joke about his lack of desire to help a damsel in distress, or maybe she would joke about his lack of grace as he almost fell from her bed, and maybe she shouldn’t joke about it.

And maybe he shouldn’t leave.

Because ever since she arrived, she had been basically a puzzle, waiting to be resolved. And although he used to be called brawns no brain by David constantly, he wanted to solve the puzzle that she was. He wanted to listen to all her jokes, he wanted to be the one she ran to when she cried and he wanted to know every expression and microexpression that she could ever do and to understand what each and every single one of them meant.

And this one right now was completely new.

She looked anywhere but to him, her lips were in a shy smile and the red in her cheeks and nose made her eyes even more blue, and she left him completely breathless without even touching him.

He took one step forward before his brain could even understand what was happening. She became redder, but she didn’t step back.

-I really am very afraid of bats.

-I really could tell.

One small laugh and he gave another step closer to her. She still didn’t back away.

-Did he bite you? Those things can really bring diseases.

One silent shake from his head and one step closer to her. She still didn’t back away.

Her eyes were now on his face again, searching for god knows what, and still, she didn’t back away when he stepped close enough for them to be almost touching. Her mouth was tinted red with the lipstick she wore daily and her lips were slightly parted. Her eyes looked deeply into his, as if she was trying to find out every single secret his soul could ever hide. She didn’t act surprised when both his hands touched her face, instead, it appeared that it was something that she already expected. Like people don’t get surprised when the sun rises, people don’t get surprised when the sun sets, and Audrey doesn’t get surprised by Cassiel’s touch.

-See? Not a single bite.

-I can’t really see your hands if they are holding my face, Cassiel

-That didn’t sound like an order to let go of you.

-So you finally admit that I give you orders?

He rolled his eyes and she laughed. Like every single time they bickered. And she laughed still, until he pulled her close by her face.

-I’m gonna kiss you now, Audrey. If you want me to stop, you can slap me.

-I don’t want you to stop.

His lips were immediately on hers, claiming all with that kiss, claiming her all with his lips. Trying his hardest to make a statement. Trying his hardest to tell her that no one would ever kiss her like that. That no one could leave her breathless like he was doing. Like he wanted to ruin her chance to ever look for anything like what only the two of them had in anyone else.

She hugged his back, her nails digging into his skin even though the shirt that was in the way. He devoured her lips just as he devoured the sighs and sounds that could come out of her mouth and as her hands explored his back and as his own traveled to her waist, squeezing it as softly as he could. Any shame that they felt before was completely forgotten. When they parted for air, he immediately pulled back, desiring to find another piece of the puzzle that she was, surprised to just find her regular smile

-...What?

-You look very good with red lipstick.

He rolled his eyes and she laughed. Like every single time they bickered. And as his lips found hers again, he knew it was worth it.

[nishas-paradise]

on mikael and audrey | ₊˚ 𓍢ִ໋🌹

Mikael and Audrey: “Koi No Yokan” 🌹🌹 🌹🌹 🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹 🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹 🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹 Λ 🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹 ( ˘ ᵕ ˘ 🌹🌹🌹 ヽ つ＼ ／ UU / 🎀 \ for @mikaelsrose and her Adeline 🌹

[nishas-paradise]

romance club | astrea's broken heart | adeline x mikael

And there he was, looking at her while a soft smile played on his lips and his eyes gleamed with an emotion neither of them dared to name. Bathed in the early morning light, Mikael looked... Soft. Inviting. Adeline tiled her head slightly, taking in the sight in front of her. How she wished to feel his gentle hands on her face again, how much she would sacrifice to be in his arms, safe, hidden, revered. Mikael set his coffee cup aside and covered her hand with his, cold and soft, never breaking the eye contact. The morning gloom veiled the crimson blush that bloomed on their cheeks, and Adeline thought that nature was incredibly kind to the pair this morning. With her heart pounding in her ears, she dared to intertwine their fingers, revealing her anxiousness by biting her lower lip. Mikael's smile widened slightly.

There was no need for words. Adeline learned early on that Mikael's love language was physical touch and that the touch of his hands conveyed more than his words ever could. On her cheeks, calming, wiping her tears when she woke up from a nightmare. On her hand, encouraging, welcoming her to the newfound family. On her lower back, supportive and intimate, leading her in the dance. And on her cheeks again, this time curiously exploring her reaction, experiencing the softness of her skin as he tried to wake her up. Adeline smiled, feeling the long forgotten fluttering in her stomach. She was falling for him, like a teenager, hard, fast, desperately.

It was always about his hands. Thin, long fingers, soft skin, and cold to the touch. She could feel his hand warm up from her touch and his steely facade seemed to unveil for a moment. Just for her.