Тощий мужчина сидел в неоновом свете экрана. Бледное лицо, красные глаза, дрожащие как спички руки и грязные волосы. Ее сердце сжалось от боли. Руки сами обхватили Федора вокруг шеи и тихий шепот ее доброго голоса упал на его больной мозг.
- Ты болен родной мой, пойдем я тебе сделаю чай. Тебе надо поспать...
Теплые руки на его холодных запястьях, горячее дыхание живой девушки. Он отстраненно глянул на сцену со стороны; он человек безграничных возможностей, ума и бесконечного несчастья, а она, страдающая чистая душа обречённая им на вечные страдания. Измученная улыбка заиграла на его тонких сухих губах - "Не надо" его голос тих и спокоен "Лучше соседи со мной ангел мой"
Теплота прильнула к его холодному сердцу, лучше всякого чая она согрела его своими объятиями. Ловко усевшись на его коленях, она слилась с ним в одно целое и так нежно гладила пальцами его шею и губами едва дотрагиваясь до его щеки что то шептала, доброе и очень заботливое что Достоевский делался рассудка. Во мраке своего мозга где ему довольно часто доводилось бродить он задавался вопросом - "За что я любим этой женщиной?" И блестящий мозг гения не находил никого ответа.
Он спрятал холодные нос в изгиб ее шеи. От нее пахло бергамотом и апельсинами. Тягучий запах солнечных дней. Напоминания что жизнь как мимолётная искра мчится мимо. Телом Федор был ничем не лучше мертвеца и он знал это.
Тонкая рука прислонила голову девушки к плечу пропуская ее волосы через свои пальцы.
Она закрыла глаза.
Они сидели молча но души их плакали вместе. Глаза их болели одной болью и рты шептали одни и те же слова - "Я люблю тебя" И тела их гнили заживо в мире где им нет места в течных объятиях друг друга. Но зерно жестокости пустило свои черные корни в сердце нежного дьявола и с грубостью достойной презрения Федор сказал следующее слова: - "Болезнь, хоть и порок души и тела отнюдь не слабость. Не пытайся лечить меня от моего безумства - дурман для меня приятней белого света. Не жалей и не лечи меня иначе любовь твоя мутирует в опеку грешника а это худше сибирской каторги"
Девушка молча улыбнулась его словам.
- "Я давно нас не жалею Феденька" она поцеловала его в лоб и посмотрела в тусклые аметистовые глаза - "Мое сердце перенесло много потерь, я вынесла много боли. Разве это плохо что я не хочу потерять тебя?" Она снова горько улыбнулась но поступила глаза на его грудь - "Не говори что все мы смертны. Я не хочу об этом думать. Но пока мы живы, выпей со мной чаю, походи со мной по зимним холодным улицам и скажи мне глубокой ночью в полудрёме что не напрасно я изувеченное сердце свое отдала тебе"
В комнате было темно. Погасли все мониторы. Федор читал ей стихотворение в темноте о молочных берегах и темном облаке их жизни, а девушка, обняв своего любимого повторяла про себя каждое его слово, ловила каждый стук его порочного сердца и крепко держала его в объятьях своих поливая плечо солёными слезами.
Не она не Федор не знали, были ли то слезы счастья или горя, но эти слезинки, чистые как горный хрусталь капли росы как никогда наполняли их иссохшиеся сердца любовью.
На следующий день, Федор не проснулся. Немой недуг одержал вверх. Бледное лицо, тонкие руки, аметистовые глаза которые больше не увидят этот мир и тихая, едва заметная улыбка ...
Fyodor is obsessed with his cello. Change my mind.
Cello is the most human-like instrument, its perfect curvy shape craved out of wood is always likened to that of an average woman. Maybe that's why Fyodor fell in love with this instrument? He found himself fixated on the cello's perfect form at first, it was wonderful to hold in his slender hands, but as soon as his cold thin fingers stroked and pressed the strings while the other hand guided the lewd bow over her body and she moaned the notes of pleasure in the darkened hall only for him to hear... Fyodor fell in love with his cello. The sensation of holding something so fragile yet extraordinary in his hands, resting with one side on his thigh while his hands shamelessly roam her body in constant exploration of a new sound she can make for him, gave Fyodor an unbelievable sense of satisfaction which corrupted his entire soul, that is of course if this man even had a soul. His passions are only known to the fellow listener of his melodies who happened to be the curious moon which often peeked through the windows into the darkened hall to watch Fyodor torture his cello with his diabolic passion, the mere mortals are not allowed to witness this side of him. Maybe on the occasion he would borrow someone else's instrument and show off his skills at the splendid banquet... But although his technique remained perfect, there was no passion in his touch. His skillful, tender strokes were reserved for his cello alone, the one too dear to him, the one he keeps locked in the darkness and that waits for him to return back every single night.
He is attentive to her 'health', a very minor change in the sound of the thinnest string leads to a close examination of her entire body to ensure that she, his wonderful cello, will stay with him for many many years. Why does he care so much for the curvy piece of wood with a hollow space inside it?
Fyodor couldn't help it. Addicted to his instrument he would come to her with fever and insomnia, rest his slender form on her shoulders and tap the strings mindlessly, long black hair sometimes getting tangled but it only made him happy... As of she is playing with my hair...
The music he played with his cello followed the rhythm of his heart.
But time is merciless. Even if you take great care of an instrument, sometimes you must let it go. Did he press the strings too hard or too often? Or was it because she was locked in the dark? Was it because he killed her with love? Or was it simply the end of her tune?
With a grieving heart of stone and expressionless eyes, the sorrowful musician walked in the night, guided by dim street lights when in the dark he heard a melodic laugh... Purple eyes pierced through the dark.
It was a girl with (e/c) eyes and (h/c) hair, with the gentle smile upon her rosy lips. As she walked passed Fyodor looked at her shape... She has the shape of my cello. It only took a spark in your eyes, a melody in your voice to set the musician's heart on fire. His lilac orbs glistened with hope as he watched (y/n) go past him with a mischievous smile.
↳ It was your idea to have a date in a recently opened Haunted House... Despite being scared of everything skskdjdj
↳WARNINGS: mild gore description, corpse, bones, blood mentions
You didn't tell Fyodor about the new place you picked to spend the evening with him at... Until you led him to the house, above which hanged a wooden sign with craved screaming letters: 'HAUNTED HOUSE'
Not that Fyodor didn't figure it out already, but he was slightly amused, he knew just how much you got scared watching horror movies. Although now that his lilac orbs focused on you, he saw no sign of worry in your beautiful face but pure excitement. Your (e/c) eyes sparkled with joy. It really made Fyodor's cold heart beat faster, something only you made him feel, but he could not miss an opportunity to tease you a little, hiding that mischievous smile of his.
"Will my darling not be scared to go in there?" His gentle voice soothes you immediately.
"Maybe a little bit" you confess grabbing onto his arm like a little child, "but you will be with me, so it's going to be fun"
Your innocent smile, childish behavior suddenly made Fyodor feel overprotective. A burning urge awakened in him, to drive you away and put you under a lock so only he could see this amazing excitement and childishness of yours... But he knew that without light, the flowers are doomed to die, and so repressing his emotions Fyodor follows you in through the old heavy doors that are immediately shut behind your backs with a loud noise that made you jump.
He gives you a side eye, "Not even a second in and you're already terrified"
"No I'm not!" You pouted pushing him forwards "If you are so brave, why don't you lead the way Fyodor?"
"That is not a logical move to make" he says walking further into darkness of a spooky corridor "the last one, always gets attacked first"
Fyodor was already out of sight so you immediately rushed after him and glued yourself to his side, clinging on ever so slightly to his dark cape.
There was mist all around you, bones and skeletons hanging from the walls, doors creaking and birds shrieking... You couldn't believe you were inside a building since you could smell the damp soil after rain on the graveyard you stopped by.
Fyodor pointed towards a small path that lead to one of the graves. Amongst the mouldy tombstones this one seemed to be the oldest, but the grave was freshly digged before it in a perfect rectangular shape with a closed coffin resting at the bottom.
"How wonderful..." You say, letting the mood settle in your bones as you came closer to the coffin to have a look. There was an inscription, craved with a shaky hand that read... DoNt sTaNd ToO cLoSe
You leaned in a little closer to have a better read but suddenly the door of the coffin opened with a loud thud revealing a man, cut in two halves, blood and guts are spread artistically all around the walls... however the upper part proceeded to crawl and husky voice cried out to you: 'Run... This is not a... A haunted.. house... It's a ... Murder... House...He will kill... You!'
The man dropped dead before your feet, red substance oozed out of his mouth.
You screamed in terror, jumping away a few meters from the graveyard. You desperately looked around only to realize that Fyodor wasn't there.
"Fyodor?" You call out to him in a shaky voice fearing to be too loud.
There was no answer.
An overwhelming fear took over your body, your eyes filled with tears as you kept on turning your head around and around at the slightest of the sounds too afraid to walk any further. Your limbs felt paralyzed as you tried to comprehend what the dead man has told you... If it's true... You and Fyodor have to get out of here... Sure he has the ability but ...
BOO!
You screamed and tears fell from your eyes as you shut them, too scared to face the monster you thought was attacking you.
But in fact, it was no monster, at least he wasn't a monster to you. It was your Fyodor, trying to be playful but ending up making you cry... He didn't regret it. He watched your fragile shaking figure and felt a sense of pleasure from seeing you so desperate to be protected.
Fyodor leaned down to you cupping your face, making you finally look up at him. His face was so close to yours you felt the tips of his messy locks of hair tingle your cheek slightly. He spoke softly and soothingly, asking for your forgiveness: "I didn't mean to scare you that much, darling..."
But you cut him of by throwing your delicate ha ds around his neck and holding him right in your embrace, face buried in the crock of his neck. "Thank God you're okay! I was so worried! That man, that corpse from the grave! He... He said awful things, he said that he would kill me.. that it's a murder house! Fyodor I was so scared you..."
You were unable to finish the ranting because Fyodor placed a gentle kiss upon you forehead.
"It is okay now my dear, no one will hurt you as long as I'm here"
And so Fyodor wrapped his cape around your shoulders and holding you by the hand lead you out from the scary house. On your way you saw more scary things, like eyeballs in a jar, bloody chainsaws and cut off fingers... But you only tightened your grip around Fyodor hand and felt protected as ever.
As you walked out from the haunted house, you looked up into his lilac orbs and with the brightest most charming smile of yours said: "I love you, Fyodor"
The slender russian man just smiled but in his mind made a little note... 'Never again will I let you feel scared'
Extra:
Later that night, Fyodor meeting up with Gogol.
"Hey Dos-kun, Dos-kun! Guess what? I opened my very own Haunted House! How cool is that! Although I did have a number of complains about using real corpses... Erm... Fedya? What are you doing?"
*Fyodor slowly activates his ability with a malicious spark in his eyes*
|| this edit took ages to make since I couldn't find a pic of fyodor in/with the car :(
🍎 He is at the wheel. No questions. If you want to drive around he'll smirk and say "No princess, I will take care of this"
🍎 Opens the door for you. Always. Because he is a gentleman and you are his princess.
🍎 He keeps the destination to himself and would play a game where you have to guess where he is taking you.
"I give up" you pout looking at the innocently smiling man at the wheel.
"Hm. You can do better than this, darling" Fyodor says in a soothing manner while his sharp lilac eyes concentrate on the road. "I will give you a hint: it has italian cuisine"
You blink twice in disbelief.
"We are getting pizza!?!?"
This is unusual because he thinks it is his duty to feed you exquisite food instead of fast food... But he can't resist treating you once in a while.
🍎 Holds your hand but never your thigh. Thinks it is too vulgar. You are a royalty and he is... Simply a rat... He enjoys holding your hand in his, fingers interwoven together.
If you move your hand he will get upset but won't say anything.
🍎 Drives carefully when you're with him... But when alone... Accidentally drives over people. He will race someone if challenged on the road.
🍎 What is the red light again???? (But when you are in the car he is a cute obedient boy because he doesn't want to hurt you)
🍎 Deliberately picks the longest routes because spending time with you makes him happy.
🍎 Definitely is the type to think a lot when driving. Fyodor drives instinctively while elaborating further in his mind the next world-annihilation step of his plan and then suddenly be like 'oh shit I am driving'
🍎He drives a retro car. All the modern innovations do not interest him.
🍎 Probably is patriotic about russian cars so expect him to pick you up in a vintage Lada Kalina :)
🍎 Classical radio in the car and he is definitely the type to recognize every fucking melody as if he is shazam (except faster)
🍎 He loves the way you look out of the window when he drives you around.
🍎 And you love to watch his thin pale hands grip the wheel.
🍎 His car is neat. You won't find any rubbish in the salon.
🍎 Stores all kind of weapons in the boot despite having the killing ability.
Policeman: "Sir, please open your boot"
Fyodor: "If you wish"
*the boot has 2 axes, 5 daggers, ropes, 3 guns and a box full of bullets, bin bags etc*
Policeman: "You are under arrest..."
Fyodor: *smirks in russian*
🍎 Probably has russian dolls as a hanging little decor
🍎 Will get candy for you whenever he's picking you up and have a bottle of water in case you forgot to drink or smth.
🍎 N E V E R gets lost. His memory is amazing. Every single road is committed to his memory.
🍎 Loves driving around at night with windows rolled down while Vivaldi is blasting at full volume.
🍎 Surprisingly never crashed a car before...
🍎 Able to drive perfectly well while being extremely drunk - but you, as a caring girlfriend/boyfriend will insist on driving them home
🍎 He can't help but tease you about falling asleep in the car and will probably tell you all sorts of amusing stories that happened while you took a nap.
🍎 Doesn't want you to drive your own car. Ever. If you are a teen he'd say it ie too early for you and that he will be CONSTANTLY worried about you. If you're older he will insist on driving you everywhere you want. He just wants to be in control :')
My heart is devoted to the one I shouldn’t love...
Fyodor x Fem!Reader
Warnings: Trying to keep it fluff.
"... A demon you say?" You question with hesitation, pale face bearing a frown as you try to put all the puzzles together. "That man is the super ability user and a terrorist that Yokohama is so desperate to catch? The very man, I spent countless evenings going to museums and libraries with? The very man with his astonishing diamond brain had helped me solve several murder cases?"
Silence settled between you and other Special Division Forces agents who glared at you with fear or utter confusion.
Nobody knew of your accidental connection with Fyodor Dostoevsky, or simply known as Demon Fyodor, and it sure was a surprise to you when your (e/c) eyes noticed a familiar face on all the screens and papers in the office with a screaming title: 'Wanted Criminal. Terrorist. Fyodor Dostoevsky. Highest rank ability user. Ability unknown.'
You honestly had no idea who the mysterious slender man was when you first met him at the museum. He looked charmingly tired, sharp purple eyes looked deeply into your soul while you both stood, rather awkwardly, near a woodblock painting that depicted the suffering of young children and women. Their weak bodies engulfed by flames, others were drowning in the peaceful veil of water. Despite the horrible scenario the colours united in harmony making you both stare at it for longer than you should have.
"The choice of the colour pallet... It mocks their suffering" you stated after a while, rather talking to yourself but hoping, subconsciously, that a curious stranger with a funny white hat would respond to your comment. To your amusement he did.
"Mhm," he nodded at first, pinching his chin like philosophers do while thinking and then slowly added: "Maybe the painter wanted to tell us that not all sufferings are recognizable at first glance. I noticed when walking up to the painting, the bright colours made me think of happiness and kindness, however, now that we stand closer to it we see that their very souls are in terrible agony" Fyodor's voice was soft like moonlight rays with a gentle touch of a foreign accent.
"I suppose... It depicts life itself. We never know how much one suffers due to the façade they’re putting" you said with a sad smile. At this very moment you looked delightful, Fyodor found a strange pleasure in watching your serious face merging into a saddened frown. And oh, he did it on purpose. He could've chosen a less explicit interpretation of the absurd painting but in his calculated mind he knew that this version would strike you the most... And he was right.
You still didn't move from the tiny painting, twirling a strand of your silky, (h/c) hair around your finger, beautiful eyes glued to the painting but your thoughts wandered far away.
It took one glance from Fyodor to understand your entire being, no matter how complicated you think of yourself - to him you are an open book, and he could not resist the urge to live the faint mark on one of those innocent, white pages.
“I apologize if my interpretations upset you, miss...” started Fyodor with a polite smile curving upon his frail face, but was interrupted by your sudden enthusiastic reply:
“Oh, please don’t apologize. One is a fool if they are not moved or hurt by art” your voice was gentle and soft and Fyodor couldn’t help but love your words.
Perhaps you two were more similar than he thought at first. In any case, enchanted by your watchful careful eyes, your smile and graceful movements of your hands, your speech and voice - he couldn’t just let you go like that, out of his sight.
A man tilted his head sideways a little, looking pleasantly amused, letting his dark locks fall upon his cheek, gently. “It seems that I found a charming lady who shares a similar view on things with me” something bittersweet hid in his words but it didn’t matter to you.
With a small, delightful laugh you move your right hand forward: “My name is, (y/n). A pleasure to meet you”
Expecting a handshake you watched as the man in a long dark cape came closer, gently grabbed your pale small hand and softly kissed the back of your hand;
“A beautiful name for a beautiful lady” he murmured watching how your pupils dilate. “My name is Fyodor. Would you agree to spend the rest of the evening in my company?”
Walking around with a stranger whom you’ve just met seemed like a ridiculous idea... But you felt safe around him, although his eyes were dark as a bottomless well, you agreed but made a promise to yourself to stay on guard. However, he cast away all your suspicions in just a few hours.
You became good friends, discussing ancient Myths and modern poetry embarked on philosophical journeys sitting in the dim corner of the library simply enjoying the presence of each other. He even played his cello for you under the mocking bright moon. His words and the depths of thought sometimes caught you off guard however, you were able to track his line of thoughts and in return challenged him with your endless and charming affection.
Fyodor never learnt what the word love truly meant. He could explain its psychological and physiological effect but never experienced it himself. He was in absolute control over his feelings and that is why he felt confused when you would meet him with a bright, loving smile that changed into a slightly concerned frown when you noticed dark eye-bags on his face. Why did you notice it? Why did you care? Who gave you the power to capture his heart so suddenly and so... wrongly?
For the first time in a long while, Dostoevsky felt as if he made a dreadful mistake. At first, he thought of you as a pawn. Easy to move and easy to get rid of. But you reminded him of himself... yet you were so much better! Despite your intellect and wittiness, you had a warm, loving heart, that even accepted a demon like him. It all changed when you finally opened up to him about your placement of work. That’s when he realised how forbidden your relationship would be. Soon you would find out anyway about his identity, his goals and... it would wound you. Deeply.
Soon he stopped coming to the museum where you two would usually meet. You remember that day. You took his favourite tea from the shop and held it in your cold hands while the hot drink burnt your fingers.
‘He will never come again’
You felt as if you lost a piece of your heart. But you never cried about it and kept all the memories of the mysterious man named Fyodor close to your heart, or rather what was left of your heart.
But now it all makes sense. The puzzle is complete. You stand in the room full of your colleagues who proceed to glare at you in silent amusement and your heart leapt in ecstasy. The adrenaline rushed through your blood as your cheeks turned red - you felt like the main character of your own story, engaged in a forbidden relationship with the demon himself.
You didn’t care about the consequences but on entering the Special Prison for the restrained Ability Users, shadows of doubt crept within your heart.
“Please wait here, ma’am. You sure you want to interrogate him?”
“Yes”
“In terms of emergency, we won’t be able to assist you immediately... ”
“I understand”
The heavy door was shut behind you, a metal desk was drilled into the floor and so were the chairs. No windows - just solid rock walls that reminded you of a medieval dungeon, except there were no cracks at all. Finally, you heard footsteps and another door before you was opened.
“Good afternoon, Fyodor,” you said in a strict tone trying to hide your excitement as much as you could.
His lilac eyes widened in surprise, thin lips parted as he watched you right there before him. In his head, he tried to process why you came out of your way to see him? Did he not abandon you back then? Did you not realise what a hateful creature he was?
“(Y/n)... Why are you here?” he questioned curiously.
You were now completely alone in the interrogation - underground cell. He watched you come closer to him with a soft smile looking with kindness into his soulless eyes...
“Why, you ask? Because I love you. That is the only concept you failed to fully understand. Monsters have hearts as well, they just need to learn how to love” words fell softly from your rosy lips while Fyodor closed his eyes and chuckled to himself.
“Talking to you is pure joy (y/n)! Love is the ultimate atonement of all human sins. Even a Devil needs someone to love him at the end of his immortal life...“
“... Angels did fight for Faust’s soul at the end, despite all his reckless deeds” you added referencing the work of a German poet, Goethe.
Fyodor sighed. He reached his slender cold hand towards you and you grabbed it without hesitation.
“Will you be... my angel, (y/n)?”
You nodded raising your bright eyes at him. A soft kiss was placed upon your forehead before he hugged you letting you bury your face in his shoulder. You were like a blooming flower in his deadly grip... but he would never hurt you. Ever.
People say the forbidden fruit is sweet... But is it so for the forbidden love that burns like fire?
lmao part 2 is gonna be saddddd (if I get the motivation to even write it)
GRRR YOUR WRITING IS SO GOOD THE WAY YOU PORTRAY FYODOR IS ✨IMMACULATE ✨ I STAN YOU SM!!!! PLEASE STAY HYDRATED AND REST WELL!!!
SHKJKJKJ YOU SOUND LIKE MY BEST FRIEND WAH 💕💕 Also thank you so muchhh I’m glad someone likes my incoherent writing! and lmao I wish it was that easy to do... being anaemic is my LIFESTYLE 🥀 but omg you are the sweetest person thank you so much ah 😭
It wasn't rare for Yokohama to throw a massive celebrating event where all the posh and rich people would gather to drink champagne and waltz across the shining floor. And for all you know you got invited to such a luxurious event by someone you've met few days ago.
A demon himself waited for your arrival in the grand hall with a polished floor and golden chandeliers hanging down from the high ceilings. The hall was too large for Fyodor's liking and the amount of noise and people made him feel rather uneasy but nothing he couldn't handle. He was a frail man wearing a dark suit like all the gentlemen did in the hall but with a red tie that stood out among all the black ones. Dostoevsky kept his eyes on the main doors from where the guests kept coming from. Meanwhile he stayed near the great tables filled with exotic snacks and countless amount of champagne. Before his tired eyes flashed many women, dressed in sparkly puffy dresses with glitter and flowers, with patterns and import fabric which only hurt his eyes. Being a lover of true beauty Fyodor thought all this farce was rather unnecessary... He saw beauty in simplicity and graceful movements not fancy dresses. Hence why he remained unfazed by all the curious women who would circle around him on occasion trying to get his attention. But the demon Fyodor was eyeing the entrance awaiting for no other than you...
To be honest he questioned if you'd actually come. After all you met him in the local library when he was returning the book back to the shelf near where you stood and it so happened you recognised the cover and with a mesmerising smile exclaimed what a 'wonderful masterpiece' it is. That's how you came to have a conversation with Fyodor about the act of killing, leaving him to think about you days on end. He couldn't stop thinking about your (h/c) locks that smelled of lavender or your endless (e/c) eyes so he made a move, leaving a handwritten note in the current book you were reading asking you to attend the ball.
However, despite him being attracted to your delicate and beautiful features he was also intrigued because unlike others he had trouble reading your thoughts. Sometimes your eyes would meet his own and God, he would be lost trying to read what you are thinking about... Of course he wasn't in love. That would get in the way of his plans, but a little cat and mouse game wouldn't hurt... him at least. (Y/n) appeared as a rather naive young girl to him who's heart aches to find a true love, however she was also smart and witty and now Fyodor feared she was smart enough not to come.
The orchestra strated tuning in, inviting guests to dance. Gentlemen left their groups of friends and stopped the political discussions, women separated as well and stood in a large circle ready to waltz the night away. The sound of the live music made Fyodor turn away from the main doors and he watched as men and women gracefully danced across the polished floor.
A bitter feeling settled in his chest. 'Perhaps I underestimated her' he thought to himself while finishing his champagne. When suddenly he felt a gentle hand landing on his shoulder. Fyodor turned his head to see no other than (y/n)...
You stood close next to him, your (h/c) locks put neatly on top of your head revealing your delicate neck and shoulders. Your dress was of a (f/c) colour that showed all the right curves of your splendid figure. Oh you looked absolutely glorious.
"Sorry I'm late" you said with a soft smile, your voice could barely be heard.
Fyodor smiled sadistically. 'A delicate flower falling right into my hands...' thought Fyodor to himself. He grabbed your pale hand in his a bowing slightly kissed your knuckles. "My lady, you made it just in time" he spoke in a soothing voice leaning closer to your ear so you could hear him. He offered you a glass of champagne that you happily took since being this close to him made your heart race.
You took a sip and had a look around. The glitter and the fancy dresses flooded the hall, mixing and merging that it almost made your head go dizzy when you heard a soft voice whisper in your ear: "Would my lady fancy a little dance?"
You looked at Fyodor in awe seeing as he offered you his hand. A sudden blush rised to your cheeks and you had to look away.
"Hmm?" the Russian man tilted his head slightly trying to understand why you are not eager to dance. "What's wrong?" he questioned, slight accent slipping in his words.
"I..." you stuttered a bit "I don't know how to dance, Fyodor" you finally admitted. It felt a bit embarrassing but at least you weren't the only people standing aside, other couples didn't participate in the dancing, but you genuinely wanted to... it just that you didn't know what to do. To your surprise, Fyodor only chuckled and grabbing your tiny wrist gently pulled you away from the bright and crowded hall.
You followed him onto the large balcony. It was dark but the stars above and the moon illuminated the area just enough for you to see your friend.
His sharp pure eyes looked at the sky for a moment than turned back to meet your glowing ones... Slowly he said:
"She walks in beauty, like the night
Of cloudless climes and starry skies;
And all that’s best of dark and bright
Meet in her aspect and her eyes;
Thus mellowed to that tender light
Which heaven to gaudy day denies."
Gently he placed his right hand on your hip pulling you closer into his embrace and grabbing your other hand in his. You felt your head go dizzy as you let Fyodor control your movements. He leaned closer to you whispering to your ear where you should place your feet... It wasn't too hard and soon you got the hang of it.
The two of you waltz on the balcony under the stars looking in each other eyes not thinking about anything but feeling each others presence. He watched your every move, your happy smile, the way your eyelashes flattered and the way your chest rised and fell with every breath you took.
When the waltz was over. Fyodor let go of you and bowed. He knew that now you belonged to him. He knew that no matter how smart you were your adorable naive heart was now beating for him. He saw it clearly in your (e/c) eyes... you fell in love with him. There is no way back.
How long can a picked flower last in the darkness untill it loses it's beauty?
