Atma234
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Summary
⋆⁺₊⋆ 𓃹 ⋆⁺₊⋆
A dark, hooded figure emerged from the dense snowstorm, growing far too tall as it approached. You shuffled back weakly in the bloodstained snow and winced as you jostled the trap clamped on your boot.
“What is this?” the man’s voice rumbled, muffled behind his mask. “You are…not what I expected to catch today.” He crouched and cupped your cheek reverently, as if you were a tiny creature whose delicate bones would snap at a too-rough touch.
You flinched at first — but he was warm, so warm.
“You are very far from home, aren’t you, Kleines Häschen?” he mused, honeyed words drawn out slowly as you relaxed into his palm. “Come, let me tend to your wound. Rest by my fire, just for a little while.”
The man scooped you up from the snow, unresisting. Sleep whispered sweet temptation as you were cradled to his chest, lulled by the blood loss and his steady steps. You gave in to the beckoning darkness, and allowed your heavy lids to close, like he said—
just for a little while.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 306,706
- Chapters:
- 24/30
- Comments:
- 7,301
- Kudos:
- 15,227
- Bookmarks:
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Bookmarked by Atma234
15 Mar 2024
Bookmarker's Notes
mi primera historia de ao3. lastima que sigue incompleta
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Summary
There's someone outside the spacecraft. You don't remember them being part of the crew.
Or: the scifi horror au
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 41,463
- Chapters:
- 14/15
- Comments:
- 473
- Kudos:
- 2,142
- Bookmarks:
- 432
- Hits:
- 40,444
Bookmarked by Atma234
15 Feb 2025
Bookmarker's Notes
No tengo palabras, ni se que expresión poner. Me gusto leer el fic la primera vez cuando no se había terminado de escribir y todavía falta un capitulo para concluir. Es raro pero la autora te sabe prender a sus historias.
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“I believe I asked you to call me Kyle, once,” he says, giving you an amused smile.
You don’t frown but it’s a close thing. “I don’t think that would be - appropriate,” you manage. The same response you had given him back then as well, you think.
He frowns instead, and you feel guilt curdle like lukewarm tea in your belly. You shuffle, taking note of how he leans back. You want him back in your space, want the heat of his attention.
“I’m sorry,” you add, desperate for him to not look sad again. You think about his face, searching in the dark of your stairway. It’s impossible to reconcile that he had proposed to spend his life with you. And you cannot even extend the kindness of his name towards him. “Kyle,” you add, before you can stop yourself.
//
or: the world ends, and it's only you and the man you barely know who wants to marry you. VICTORIAN, ZOMBIE APOCALYPSE!AU
Bookmarked by Atma234
11 May 2026
Bookmarker's Notes
Wow, con eso digo todo.
Él tomó la oportunidad que el destino le ofreció y yo digo bofiti bofiti bofitiiii -
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“You asking if I have a cock, sweetheart?” John asks, steps closer. Slippery hands clench around glass. He looks like he’s scented blood, like he wants to dart forward and finally catch you in this elaborate game that you’ve been playing that only he knows the rules to.
“Why would you? What purpose would that have?” you return, frowning at him. Disapproving, a familiar role for you, even if it is relatively passive compared to how you feel now. You feel the absurd urge to hiss at him, poison in your mouth. Feel how it burns your gums.
“Most likely a function for bored housewives,” he drawls, dark eyes intent on you.
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or: Your husband gets an android to look after you while he's away. Things spiral from there. Android!AU
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Summary
The first thing he says to you is:
if you were mine, you'd be tucked in bed already instead of drinking alone in a goddamn bar—
Despite it being the most ostentatious thing anyone has ever said to you, it's full of mockery, too—an infantilising barb drenched in ownership, possession. As if you're a trinket to be kept; a child in need of supervision. A firmer hand, perhaps.
(and those gruff words cause two problems for you: the first is that you're not sure if he means it in a parental way—an innocuous sentiment from an overbearing, but well-intentioned, father angry on your behalf—or a bald, albeit gruff, pickup line from a man with stress lines older than you.
the second is that you're not entirely sure which one you want it to be more.)