Please don’t take this personally but the point of writing „x reader“ is to self insert. So why are you giving your reader defining traits like hair color etc? If it’s supposed to represent an oc, yourself etc that’s fine but please tag it appropriately
it’s not supposed to represent an oc i don’t have an oc but if you would have been on my page long enough you would know i have given my reader a hair color and eye color because well i can it’s my reader and i can make her look the way i want her to your not the one writing and i’ve seen many writers give their readers a hair color so no need to be the fun police
HEY GUYS THIS IS PT2 OF A POST THAT I MADE A FEW DAYS AGO SORRY IT TOOK ME SO LONG TO UPLOAD I WAS BUSY DRAWING BUR I’LL TAG PART ONE IF YOU HAVENT ALREADY READ IT for some reason it’s not letting me add a title so the title for this fic is The Hearth's Safe Haven
THIS IS ARLECCHINO X WIFE READER (reader is a vampire)
pt1
Warnings: Resolution of emotional distress, intense feelings of guilt and panic, physical trembling, and a transition into deep, desperate comfort, blood-drinking, and overwhelming affection.
The heavy door burst open with a resounding crash before Arlecchino could deal a lethal blow. Lyney stood at the threshold, breathing heavily, a bound and bloody Fatui informant dragged behind him.
“Father! Stop!" Lyney gasped, his voice frantic as he threw a scroll onto the floor. "The ledger is a fake! We just intercepted the real communications—it was a setup by the regicide faction to isolate you! Mother is innocent!"
The silence that followed was deafening.
The dark, crackling energy around Arlecchino’s claws didn't just fade; it shattered into dust. Her hands dropped from the wall as if the stone had turned to fire. She looked at the scroll on the floor, then down at Y/N, who had slid completely down the wall, curling into a ball on the floor, sobbing softly and clutching her own chest in pure terror.
Arlecchino had almost destroyed her own wife. Because of a lie.
"Out," Arlecchino commanded Lyney, her voice cracking in a way the young illusionist had never heard before. Lyney didn't hesitate, dragging the traitor away and slamming the heavy door shut, leaving the wives alone.
The terrifying angst in the room dissolved instantly into a frantic, desperate guilt. Arlecchino dropped to her knees on the cold floor, her regal posture completely collapsing. She reached out, her large hands shaking violently as she pulled Y/N's small frame into her lap, bundling her against her chest with a ferocity that spoke of a deep, sudden panic.
"Y/N... honey, look at me, please," Arlecchino breathed, her voice completely broken. She buried her face in Y/N’s pink hair, her chest heaving as she held her as close as physically possible. "Forgive me. My life, my soul, forgive me. I was blind. I was a fool."
Y/N let out a long, shaky sob, her brain officially short-circuiting from the whiplash of absolute terror to sudden safety. She didn't push her wife away. Instead, she buried her face in the crook of Arlecchino’s neck, her fingers clutching tightly at the fabric of her waistcoat. Between the intense fear and the stress, Y/N's vampire hunger suddenly spiked, her throat burning like dry fire. "I thought... I thought you hated me," Y/N whimpered, her body still trembling violently.
"Never. I would sooner tear my own heart out," Arlecchino whispered fiercely. She didn't care about her own pride anymore; she immediately pulled back the high collar of her shirt, exposing the pulsing line of her neck. "You're starving from the stress. Drink from me, my little bird. Take everything."
Y/N didn't hesitate. She buried her fangs into Arlecchino's skin, a sharp gasp escaping her as the rush of heat hit her system.
"Nnnngh... mmm..." Y/N grunted against her skin, her hands tightening on Arlecchino's shoulders as the terrifying chill of the confrontation finally melted away, replaced by a thick, golden bliss.
Arlecchino held her tighter, her chin resting on top of Y/N’s head, her eyes squeezed shut as she let out a long, shuddering sigh of relief. To make up for the terror she had caused, Arlecchino began a relentless, desperate mission of affection the moment Y/N pulled back.
She leaned down, pressing soft, lingering kisses to Y/N’s forehead, then to each of her eyelids, her flushed cheeks, and the tip of her nose. Her lips moved against Y/N's skin with a fierce, worshipful possessiveness, murmuring broken apologies between every single touch until Y/N’s sobbing finally slowed into soft, dazed sighs.
"babe... stop, you’re... you’re squishing me," Y/N murmured slurrily, her eyes half-lidded and blood-drunk. Her hands flopped out from her ruffles to weakly pat at her wife's face, a cheesy smile finally managing to tug at her lips.
"Good. You belong right here," Arlecchino murmured against her jaw, her grip tightening comfortably as she refused to let her go. "You are spoiled, and I have an eternity of making up to do to you."
Y/N just let out a long, contented sigh, her mind turning to absolute jelly under the sudden onslaught of warmth. Safe in the arms of her giant, she closed her eyes, perfectly content to let the lingering fear melt away into a deep, protected sleep.
Wonder what you think of Arlecchino x Clorinde aka Arlerinde
sorry it took so long to answer you i just woke up but i personally really like the ship i like the dynamics i thinks its really cute like how their personalities kind of clash because of arlecchino morally grey personality and Coraline’s psychotic and deeply caring personality so yeah i really like the ship it’s probably my favorite ship with Arlecchino after her ship with navia <3
(i’m getting an idea for a fanfic so i might write it if i’m not lazy)
HI GUYS IM BACK IM SORRY FOR NOT UPLOADING FOR SO LONG I JUST DONT REALLY HAVE ANY MOTIVATION ANYWAY HAPPY PRIDE MONTH
pt2
Arlecchino x wife reader
Warnings: High-tension emotional distress, heavy themes of perceived betrayal, physical intimidation, psychological angst, and a cliffhanger ending. Contains physical trembling, choking silence, and severe marital tension. IF YOU ARE UNCOMFORTABLE WITH ANY OF THESE WARNINGS PLEASE SCROLL
The private quarters of the Harbingers were usually a sanctuary, but tonight, they felt like a tomb. Y/N stood by the velvet curtains, her formal black ruffled blouse catching the dim crimson glow of the dying hearth. She was trembling down to her very fangs, but it wasn't from a vampire's hunger or a winter chill. It was from the sheer, suffocating weight of the aura bleeding off her wife.
Arlecchino stood by the heavy oak desk, her back to Y/N. Her hands, clawed and stained a deep abyss-black at the fingers, were gripping the edge of the wood so hard it groaned. On the blotter lay a forged ledger and a set of stolen letters—a masterclass in sabotage framed beautifully to look like Y/N had been selling secrets to a rival faction. To make it worse, the forgery explicitly implied Y/N had been doing it in the arms of another lover.
"Arlecchino... please, just look at me," Y/N whispered, her voice a fragile, broken thread in the heavy silence. "It’s a lie. I don't even know who that agent is. I swear to you, I've never—"
"Quiet."
The word dropped like a guillotine. Arlecchino turned around, and Y/N’s heart completely stopped. The Knave’s eyes—usually so cold and controlled—were completely blown out, the crimson X's in her pupils vibrating with a terrifying, jagged angst. She looked monstrous. The sheer force of this perceived betrayal had shattered her legendary composure, leaving raw, unadulterated fury in its place. Arlecchino truly believed the lies. To her, the evidence was absolute. Her wife had broken her vows.
In a blur of motion too fast for Y/N’s eyes to track, Arlecchino crossed the room. Her large, dark hand shot out, pinning Y/N against the stone wall. Her fingers pressed firmly into the stone on either side of Y/N’s neck, trapping her completely.
"Do you take me for a fool?" Arlecchino hissed, her voice trembling, laced with a dangerous, quiet venom. "I gave you everything. My name, my protection, my heart... things I swore I would never give to another living soul. And you hand them to a rat in the lower districts?"
Y/N’s eyes filled with hot, panicked tears, spilling over her pale cheeks. She reached up, her small, trembling hands clutching desperately at Arlecchino’s wrists. "I love you! I only love you! Please, Arlecchino, look at my eyes! You know when I'm lying!"
Arlecchino leaned in close, her breath hot against Y/N’s cheek, her gaze piercing deep into Y/N's soul. But the rage in Arlecchino's mind was too loud, completely blinding her to the truth. "I see nothing but a traitor," Arlecchino whispered, her voice cold as ice.
Slowly, the black, shadow-like energy began to crackle around Arlecchino's claws. She raised her hand, her expression hardening into that of a merciless executioner. Y/N squeezed her eyes shut, sobbing as she braced for the end.
Suddenly, a loud, frantic pounding echoed on the heavy oak doors from the hallway outside, but Arlecchino didn't drop her gaze. She loomed over her wife, her hand poised to strike, completely convinced of Y/N's guilt.
SORRY THAT I HAVENT BEEN POSTING FANFICS I’VE JUST BEEN SO BUSY T-T EDIT: I JUST REALIZED I DIDNT ADD A GIFT BTW THIS IS ARLECCHINO X SICK WIFE READER BTW oh and guys please ASK ME TO WRITE THINGS I DONT KNOW WHAT TO WRITE ABOUT
Plot: When a severe winter fever leaves Y/N bedridden and trembling within the cold walls of the House of the Hearth, Arlecchino sets aside her mantle as "The Knave" to become a devoted wife. Seeing her usually vibrant partner reduced to a fragile state sparks a rare, protective fire in Arlecchino, leading to a quiet night of healing and unyielding tenderness.
Warnings: Descriptions of high fever, physical weakness, trembling, and heavy caretaking themes. Contains soft physical affection, forehead kisses, and a transition from illness-induced distress to a comforted, dazed state of rest.
The blizzard outside the House of the Hearth howled like a wounded beast, but inside Arlecchino’s private quarters, the silence was thick and stifling. Y/N lay buried beneath a mountain of heavy furs, her pink hair fanned out across the pillows in a messy, damp tangle. Her skin, usually pale and pristine, was flushed a deep, worrying crimson, and her breath came in shallow, ragged hitches. Every bone in her body felt as though it had been replaced by lead, and the simple act of keeping her eyes open felt like a battle she was losing.
The door creaked open, admitting a sliver of light from the hallway before the silhouette of the Father eclipsed it. Arlecchino stepped into the room, her movements devoid of their usual sharp, military precision. She had discarded her heavy coat, standing only in her dark waistcoat, her dual-toned hair catching the dim glow of the embers in the hearth.
She moved to the bedside, her gaze softening into an expression that no one in Fontaine—save for the woman in the bed—would ever be permitted to see.
"You're still burning up, my life," Arlecchino murmured, her voice a low, smooth vibration that cut through Y/N's feverish haze.
She sat on the edge of the mattress, the frame groaning under her weight. Her hand, cold and steady, reached out to rest against Y/N’s forehead. Y/N let out a pathetic, broken whine at the contact, her eyes fluttering open just enough to see the cross-shaped pupils of her wife's eyes.
"Arlecchino..." Y/N rasped, her voice cracking painfully. "Everything... everything is too loud."
"Shhh. I am here. The world is quiet now," Arlecchino whispered. She reached for a basin of cool water on the nightstand, dipping a soft cloth into it and wringing it out with one hand. She began to gently dab at Y/N’s face, wiping away the sweat from her temples and the bridge of her nose.
Y/N’s hands, trembling and weak, reached out from beneath the furs, clutching blindly at the silk of Arlecchino’s sleeve. "Don't... don't go back to the children yet. Stay."
Arlecchino’s jaw tightened—not in annoyance, but in a fierce, protective surge of devotion. She set the cloth aside and leaned down, pressing her cool forehead against Y/N’s burning one. "I am not going anywhere. The House can stand without me for a night. You, however, seem to be malfunctioning without my supervision."
She shifted, hoisting Y/N up into a sitting position as if she weighed nothing at all. She settled her back against the headboard and began to guide a glass of water to her lips. Y/N drank greedily, her hands shaking so much that Arlecchino had to steady the glass with her own gloved fingers.
When the glass was empty, Y/N slumped back against her wife’s chest, her brain officially turning into a fog of warmth and exhaustion. She nuzzled her face into the crook of Arlecchino’s neck, the familiar scent of cedar and cold air acting as a grounding wire for her delirium.
"Better?" Arlecchino asked, her thumb tracing the line of Y/N’s jaw.
"Mmm... cold," Y/N whimpered, her fingers tangling in the lace of Arlecchino's shirt.
Arlecchino didn't hesitate. She pulled the furs up around both of them, shielding Y/N with her own body. "Then sleep. I will hold the fever at bay."
She began her mission of quiet affection, her lips moving relentlessly against Y/N’s face—pressing soft, lingering kisses to her temple, the corner of her swollen eyes, and the tip of her nose. Each touch earned a soft, happy hum from Y/N, the girl’s muscles finally beginning to turn to jelly as the tension of the illness broke.
"You’re so spoiled," Arlecchino teased quietly, her breath warm against Y/N’s ear. "Turning the Knave into a common nursemaid."
Y/N didn't respond with words, only a cheesy, dazed smile that pulled at her lips as she drifted off. She let out one last, shaky sigh, her eyes closing as she felt Arlecchino’s arms tighten around her, a solid and unshakable fortress against the storm outside.
guys i’m so fucking horny right now my cock is throbbing and i don’t know what to do let me tell you guys how this happened so you know i was scrolling through reddit and i saw that this girl named jade posted a new asmr vid and i decided to listen to it and that was not the best idea because now i’m super fucking hard and i know i should prob get rid of it myself but i hate just jerking off it doesn’t feel as good as being told what to do or being used like the slut i am i just need someone to use me until they are satisfied
sub g!p Arlecchino x fem reader this is my first time writing smut so it might be bad so i’m sorry if it is <3
The tension in the air was thick enough to choke on, the kind that made your pulse quicken and your skin prickle with anticipation. y/n lounged on the bed, her lithe body draped in nothing but the sheerest lace lingerie, the delicate fabric doing little to conceal the hard peaks of her nipples or the way her thighs glistened with arousal. Her ash-pink hair was a mess of tangled curls, framing a face that was all sharp angles and smoldering red eyes. A smirk played on her lips as she watched Arlecchino standing stiffly before her, that damnable white coat hugging every inch of her authoritative frame.
Arlecchino’s fingers twitched at her sides, her cold, calculating gaze locked onto y/n with a mix of irritation and something far more dangerous. The white coat accented the dark gradient of her forearms, those intricate cross-shaped markings stark against her pale skin, her blood-red nails tapping in a rhythm that betrayed her restraint.
"You’ve been teasing me all night, Arlecchino," y/n purred, her voice dripping with amusement as she stretched her legs lazily, one foot slipping between the rigid tails of Arlecchino’s coat. The heel of her stiletto pressed against the thick bulge straining against the fabric of Arlecchino’s pants, already dark with the evidence of her arousal. "And now it’s time to pay up."
Arlecchino’s jaw clenched, but she didn’t move. Didn’t protest. Didn’t say a fucking word. That was all y/n needed.
With a slow, deliberate roll of her ankle, y/n pressed down, her heel grinding into the swollen, leaking shape beneath the thin fabric. Arlecchino’s breath hitched, a sharp inhale that sent a shiver through her body. The sound was intoxicating—proof that even this icy, unyielding woman could be undone by a little pressure, a little force.
"Ohhh, look at you," y/n cooed, her voice thick with satisfaction as she rocked her foot harder, feeling the way Arlecchino’s cock throbbed beneath her. "Such a good little toy for me to play with."
Arlecchino’s nails dug into her palms, her knuckles white with the effort to stay still. But y/n wasn’t interested in her restraint. She wanted to break it. Wanted to watch those cold, calculating eyes water with need.
So she pressed down harder.
Arlecchino’s breath came out in a broken whine, her hips jerking involuntarily against the pressure. A shudder ran through her, her back arching as she bit back a moan. "Fuck—!" The curse tore from her lips before she could stop it, raw and needy, and y/n grinned like a predator who’d just cornered her prey.
"Such a filthy mouth," y/n taunted, her heel circling the leaking tip, smearing the damp fabric over the sensitive head. "I bet you’ve been imagining this all night, haven’t you? Me, stepping all over your pretty little cock until you’re nothing but a trembling, whining mess."
Arlecchino’s eyes burned with fury, but her body gave her away—her thighs trembling, her breath coming in shallow gasps as y/n increased the pressure, her heel pressing down until Arlecchino’s knees nearly buckled.
"You—" Arlecchino’s voice was strained, her words barely coherent. "You’re—"
"Insolent?" y/n finished for her, pressing down just a little more, just enough to make Arlecchino’s legs shake. "Yes, I am. And you love it."
Arlecchino’s resolve shattered. With a broken cry, she grabbed y/n’s ankle, her grip bruising as she tried to push back—but y/n was relentless. She twisted her foot, grinding her heel into the throbbing length with a slow, punishing rhythm.
"P-please—" Arlecchino’s voice broke, her thighs slick with arousal, her cock leaking in thick, desperate pulses against the fabric. "Please, y/n—"
"Please what?" y/n taunted, her free hand sliding down her own body, fingers teasing the waistband of her lingerie before slipping beneath. She groaned at the first touch of her own fingers, her back arching as she circled her clit with slow, maddening strokes. "Do you want to come, Arlecchino? Do you want to ruin these pretty pants with your filthy little mess?"
Arlecchino’s breath hitched, her hips stuttering against the pressure as y/n rode her heel harder, faster. The room was thick with the sounds of wet fabric, of desperate moans, of y/n’s own filthy gasps as she pleasured herself against the tormented woman beneath her.
"Y-yes—" Arlecchino’s voice was a broken whisper, her body trembling as she finally gave in. "Fuck, y/n—!"
"Good girl," y/n purred, her voice dripping with approval as she watched Arlecchino’s control crumble. The first spurt of cum darkened the fabric beneath y/n’s foot, thick and hot, and she moaned at the sight, her fingers working faster as she chased her own release.
Arlecchino’s cries turned keening, her body jerking as wave after wave of pleasure wracked her, her cock pulsing against the relentless pressure of y/n’s heel. When she finally sagged against the bed, trembling and breathless, y/n didn’t let up—she kept grinding, kept tormenting, until Arlecchino was a whining, broken mess beneath her.
Only then did y/n finally pull her foot away, smirking as she admired her handiwork—the ruined pants, the sticky mess seeping through the fabric, the way Arlecchino lay there, gasping like a fish out of water.
Plot: Amidst a high-stakes investigation in a rain-drenched city, Y/N’s vampire hunger finally catches up to her, threatening to blow her cover. Her wife, Ada Wong, notices her staggering steps and pulls her into the shadows of a narrow alley, offering herself as the only cure to the desperation in a moment that is as lethal as it is tender.
Warnings: Descriptions of starvation and blood-drinking, themes of espionage and danger, physical trembling, and heavy romantic affection. Contains a "blood-drunk" dazed state and smudged lipstick.
The neon signs of the district bled into the puddles like spilled ink, casting long, jagged streaks of violet and crimson across the asphalt. Y/N leaned against the cold brick of a narrow alleyway, her breath hitching in a way that had nothing to do with the humidity. Her favorite black ruffled blouse was damp, the heavy silk clinging to her frame as she tried to suppress the shaking in her hands. It had been weeks since she’d had a proper meal; the high-stakes chase through the city had burned through her reserves, leaving her throat feeling like it was lined with rusted wire. Her vision was starting to fracture, the bright city lights turning into dizzying, painful strobes.
She was supposed to be Ada’s backup, the shadow in the rafters, but the hunger was turning her into a liability.
"You’re breathing too loud, darling. The mark is going to hear you before I even get in range."
The voice was cool, sharp, and carried the faint scent of expensive perfume and gunpowder. Ada Wong stepped out of the shadows, her red dress a vibrant slash against the grey concrete. She didn't look bothered by the rain; she looked like a predator who had already won the game. But as she moved closer, her dark eyes scanned Y/N’s trembling form, and her expression shifted from professional detachment to that soft, private adoration she saved only for her wife.
"Look at you," Ada murmured, reaching out with a gloved hand to tilt Y/N’s chin up. "You’re practically translucent. Did you think you could play the hero on an empty stomach?"
Y/N’s mouth opened and closed, her red eyes dilated as she caught the scent of Ada’s pulse—vivid, steady, and tantalizingly close. "I... I had it under control," she rasped, her voice breaking. "I just need... a minute."
Ada let out a soft, humored breath that wasn't quite a laugh. She didn't say a word; instead, she stepped into Y/N’s space, her body a slender, grounding weight that blocked out the rest of the city. She hooked an arm around Y/N’s waist, pulling her flush against her. "You’re a terrible liar. Lucky for you, I’m an expert at spotting them."
Ada shifted, her movements fluid and deliberate as she turned her head, exposing the pale, elegant line of her neck. She brushed her dark hair aside, her eyes locking onto Y/N’s with a challenging, devoted intensity. "Consider this a tactical necessity. I can’t have my wife fainting in the middle of a mission."
The invitation was all it took. Y/N’s brain officially short-circuited as she buried her face in the crook of Ada’s neck. The first taste was an explosion of heat—Ada’s blood was like the woman herself: sharp, sophisticated, and utterly overwhelming.
"Nnnngh... mmm..." Y/N grunted against her skin, her fingers clutching the silk of Ada’s dress as the needles in her throat finally vanished, replaced by a heavy, golden bliss.
Ada didn't flinch. She simply held Y/N steady, her free hand coming up to tangle in Y/N’s pink hair, her thumb tracing the shell of her ear. "There," Ada whispered, her voice a low, soothing vibration. "Take what you need, little bird."
When Y/N finally pulled away, she was a total wreck. Her face was flushed, her lips stained a deep, bruised red from the meal and Ada's own lipstick, and her eyes were half-lidded with pure satisfaction. She slumped against Ada’s chest, her head resting on her shoulder as the neon world started to feel soft and far away.
"I feel... dizzy," Y/N slurred, a cheesy, blood-drunk smile spreading across her lips. "The lights are... pretty."
Ada smiled, a rare, genuine expression. She reached out, using a thumb to wipe a stray crimson smudge from Y/N’s lip, before leaning down to press a soft, lingering kiss to her cheek. "You’re absolutely ruined. Completely malfunctioning."
When Y/N didn't respond with words, only a series of happy, alien-like noises and a clumsy attempt to nuzzle back into Ada’s neck, the spy’s amusement grew. She began to relentlessly attack Y/N’s face with soft kisses—the forehead, the nose, the other cheek—until the vampire was giggling and squirming in her hold.
"Ada... stop... we have... a mission," Y/N protested weakly, her hands flopping out from her ruffles to blindly pat Ada’s face.
"The mission can wait ten minutes," Ada murmured against her jaw, her grip tightening possessively. "You're spoiled, and I'm the only one allowed to do it. Now, be quiet and let me finish."
Y/N just let out a long, shaky sigh, her eyes fluttering shut as she melted into the warmth of her wife’s embrace, the rain and the neon city fading into nothing but a beautiful, lipstick-stained blur.
Lady D x vampire wife reader THIS IS ANOTHER DRAFT THAT I MADE A LONG TIME AGO SO IT MIGHT BE BAD IM SORRY IF IT IS
Plot: After a reckless excursion that left her severely wounded and separated from the castle for days, Y/N finally limps back into the shadow of the estate. Fearing Alcina’s legendary temper for her carelessness, Y/N is met instead with the crushing weight of her wife’s grief-stricken terror—a cold, sharp angst that only melts when the hunger and the hurt are finally soothed by Alcina’s own hand.
Warnings: Graphic descriptions of starvation and blood-drinking, physical injuries (open wounds, bruising), intense themes of grief and separation anxiety, and a high-tension emotional confrontation. Contains elements of desperation, physical trembling, and a heavy, dazed "blood-drunk" state. Use caution for themes of predatory hunger and domestic angst.
The grand foyer of Castle Dimitrescu was an ice box, the marble floors reflecting the flickering, dying light of the candelabras. Y/N leaned heavily against the heavy oak door she had just managed to latch, her breath coming in ragged, shallow whistles. Her favorite black ruffled blouse was a disaster—torn at the shoulder and damp with a dark, sluggish warmth that wasn't hers. She was starving, her throat screaming with a dry, parched fire that made her vision swim in sickening loops of grey and red.
She had been gone three days too long. She had been reckless, cornered by hunters in the lower pass, and now the silence of the castle felt like a physical blow. She was terrified. Not of the hunters, but of the look she knew she would see on Alcina’s face.
"Do you have any idea," a voice dropped from the darkness above like a guillotine blade, "the depths of the silence I have endured since you vanished?"
Y/N flinched, her knees finally hitting the cold marble with a sharp crack. She looked up, her pink hair matted with dried mud and copper. Alcina stood at the top of the stairs, her silhouette blocking out the moon. She didn't look regal; she looked monstrous. Her golden eyes were blown wide, her chest heaving with a rage so potent it felt like the very walls were trembling.
"Alcina... I—" Y/N’s voice broke, a pathetic, dry rasp. "The passes... they were blocked. I tried."
Alcina was down the stairs in a blur of white silk, her movements too fast for Y/N’s blurred eyes to follow. She didn't strike; instead, she loomed, her shadow swallowing Y/N whole. Her large, gloved hand shot out, gripping Y/N’s jaw with a force that was just shy of painful.
"You didn't try hard enough to stay alive," Alcina hissed, her voice trembling with a terrifying, jagged angst. "I thought you were dead. I thought someone had finally taken the only thing in this world I care to keep."
Y/N’s eyes filled with hot, frustrated tears. She was so small, so broken in the grip of her giant wife. "I'm sorry," she sobbed, her hands feebly clutching at Alcina’s wrists. "I'm so hungry, Alcina. Please... everything hurts."
The rage in Alcina’s eyes didn't vanish—it shattered. It broke apart into a raw, frantic desperation. She saw the tear in the ruffles, the way Y/N was trembling like a leaf in a storm. The angst of the last three days seemed to pour out of her in a single, shaky breath.
"Oh, my little bird," Alcina whispered, her voice cracking. "My stubborn, foolish life."
She didn't wait for another word. She hoisted Y/N up, tucking her against her chest with a ferocity that spoke of a fear she would never admit to. She carried her up the stairs, kicking the bedroom doors open and settling onto the velvet chaise. Y/N was a mess, her brain officially short-circuiting as the safety of Alcina’s scent finally hit her. She buried her face in Alcina’s neck, her breath hitching as she felt the Lady’s heart hammering just as fast as her own.
"I have you. I have you," Alcina murmured, her large hand tangling in Y/N’s messy pink hair, pulling her head back with a desperate gentleness. She didn't even hesitate, ripping the lace at her own collar to expose the pulse beneath. "Drink. Before I lose my mind entirely."
The first taste was a violent rush of heat, a surge of life that made Y/N’s entire body go rigid. The dry needles in her throat vanished, replaced by a thick, golden bliss that made her toes curl in her boots.
"Nnnngh... mmm..." Y/N grunted against her skin, her hands clutching the white silk of Alcina's dress as if she were afraid she might drift away if she let go.
Alcina didn't stop her. She held her closer, her chin resting on top of Y/N’s head, her eyes squeezed shut as she let out a long, shuddering sigh of relief. The cold angst of the night was finally starting to thaw, replaced by a heavy, protective warmth.
When Y/N finally pulled back, she was dazed, her face flushed and her eyes glassy. She looked up at Alcina, a cheesy, blood-drunk smile spreading across her lips despite the dried tears on her cheeks.
"You're... you're really mad, aren't you?" Y/N slurred, her head lolling back against Alcina’s arm.
Alcina let out a soft, huffing laugh, her thumb dabbing at the crimson smudge on Y/N’s chin. "I am furious. I am incandescent with rage." She leaned down, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to Y/N’s forehead, then her nose, then each of her rosy cheeks. "And I am never letting you out of my sight again."
Y/N giggled, a soft, bubbly sound that filled the quiet room. "Good. I like it better here anyway." She reached up, her shaky hand flopping onto Alcina’s cheek, pushing the Lady’s face back down for more. "More kisses. To make up for the three days."
"You are spoiled beyond repair," Alcina whispered, but she didn't stop. She showered Y/N’s face in kisses, her mission relentless until the girl was sighing and melting into a puddle of pure, lipstick-stained bliss.
The storm outside didn't matter. Y/N was home, tucked securely in the arms of her giant, drifting off into a sleep where the only thing she could feel was the steady, grounding rhythm of her wife’s heart.
