Summary: A ruined wedding, a stranger in the night, and a love that defies the world.
TW: kidnapping
The night should have been filled with music and candlelight.
Instead, it was the sound of thunder that followed you into your bridal chamber.
The storm had begun as the ceremony ended, as though the heavens themselves refused to bless the vows that had been spoken.
You had seen it then, in your husband’s eyes.
The truth. Cruelty. It cut you like a blade. The smile he gave you had not reached his eyes.
Sent a shiver down your back.
You sat in front of the mirror in complete silence, your wedding gown heavy on your shoulders.
Your reflection looked frightened and small.
You were so lost in your thoughts, you did not hear the door open at first, only felt the faint rush of cold air that followed.
When you turned, he was there.
He was not a man of your world.
His figure filled the room, his face half in shadow, his clothes soaked through with rain. For one moment, you thought he was a ghost. Then his eyes met yours, and you knew he was alive.
“Do not scream,” he said softly. His voice was deep and rough. “I will not hurt you.”
You could not move.
He took a step closer, hands open at his sides.
“You do not belong here. He would have hurt you.”
You swallowed hard.
“Who are you?”
“A friend,” he answered. “Of sorts.”
Before you could speak again, the window shattered in the wind, and everything went black.
When you woke, the air smelled of pine and smoke.
You were lying in a bed softer than any you had known, wrapped in blankets that smelled faintly of earth.
You sat up.
The room was small, rustic, yet clean. A single fire burned in the hearth.
The door creaked open, and the man, the creature, entered. He carried a wooden tray.
“I thought you might wake hungry,” he said quietly. “There is bread, and broth.”
You stared at him.
“Where am I?”
“Safe,” he said simply.
You looked down, your heart racing.
“You took me from my home.”
“His home... I took you from a prison,” he corrected, his voice low but steady. “I saw what he was. What he would do. I could not stand by.”
You trembled, unsure whether to believe him.
“And if I wish to leave?”
“Then you may. When you are ready. The woods are wide and unkind, but I will not chain you.” he hesitated for a moment.
He left you then, as if he was afraid to breathe around you.
Days passed. You learned that the cottage stood deep within the forest, far from any village or road.
At first, you wanted nothing more than escape. But as you stood outside, in the harsh weather, you had to realise that if you left, you would die in those woods.
Yet as the days passed, you began to notice the small things about him.
For example, how carefully he moved, as if afraid of breaking the world. Or how gently he spoke, even when you did not answer. Or how he worked to repair the roof, or light the fire, or mend your torn dress.
He did not touch you. He barely looked at you.
But his presence filled every corner of that little house.
One evening, when the rain returned, you found him sitting by the fire, mending a chair.
His hands were large, scarred, and marked by old stitches, yet his touch was precise and delicate.
“Why do you live alone?” you asked, surprising yourself.
He looked up slowly.
“Because I am what the world fears. I was made by man’s hands and cursed by his hatred.”
You frowned.
“Cursed?”
He nodded.
“I was born without love. I could never deserve it.”
You said nothing for a long time. The fire cracked softly between you.
“I do not believe that,” you said.
His EYES lifted to yours.
“You should.”
“I do not,” you whispered.
That was the first night you stayed by the fire together.
The next day, you spoke again.
You told him of your childhood, your mother’s garden, the way you used to paint the sea from memory.
In turn, he told you of the mountains, the snow, the loneliness that shaped him. The more he spoke, the less monstrous he seemed.
During the evenings, you began to feel something that frightened you even more than his strength, something tender.
He brought you wildflowers, awkwardly arranged.
He repaired your shoes.
Once, when you burned your hand on the pot, he caught your wrist and pressed it to his lips in an instinctive gesture of care.
His touch was cold, but his voice shook as he spoke.
“Forgive me. I should have warned you.”
"It's... okay."
You looked at him then, truly looked. The scars no longer frightened you. They told a story of pain and endurance, not horror.
Weeks passed.
The fear that had first taken root in your heart slowly disappeared, replaced by something deeper and stronger.
One evening, you stood outside together, the night air cold around you.
The stars were bright above the trees. He watched them.
“I used to think they were souls,” he murmured. “The ones I lost. The ones who could never love me.”
You turned to him.
“And now?”
He looked at you.
“Now I think they are eyes. Watching me to see if I will ruin this, too.”
You stepped closer, your hand trembling as it reached for his.
“You will not.”
He caught your hand as if he were afraid you might vanish.
“You do not understand. I took you from your world. I do not deserve your kindness.”
You shook your head.
“You saved me from a life of cruelty and pain. Perhaps that was the only way I could ever be free.”
His breath shuddered. “You should hate me.”
“But I do not.”
When you kissed him, he went still.
His hands hovered near your face, uncertain, until at last they rested against your skin, you could feel that he was shaking.
The kiss was slow.
Afterwards, he drew back just enough to look at you. His voice was soft.
“If I hurt you, even by accident, I could not live.”
“You will not,” you said.
He lowered his forehead to yours, closing his eyes.
“Then I will spend my life proving it.”
And he did.
The days turned to months.
The forest bloomed around you, the house becoming a home built not from captivity, but from choice. His love remained fierce, protective, and at times overwhelming, but it was never cruel.
You learned to calm his storms with a touch, to remind him that he was not made for destruction, but for devotion.
Edward was excited to wear matching outfits with Bella. He was amazed that he could dazzle her. He recited Romeo's lines in her ear. He left notes on her pillow. He was so desperate for her hand in marriage, he allowed her to add a condition to his condition.
Edward is a lovesick dork first and an awkward loser second.
I’ve had a lotta bad days. I’ve had bad days with you, too. But I’ve had… more good days with you than with anyone else.
Up (2009) // The last of us (2023 - )
jacobvanloon
yousharknotpass
titsay
dailybridgerton
janainaart
areudirty
