imaginethatneathuhpartdos

[imaginethatneathuhpartdos]

Murtagh looking at his love interest/SO like this 👀

[imaginethatneathuhpartdos]

dinosaurs

dinosaurs

dinosaurs

hehehehehehe

Hello everybody!

I updated my pridesaur list and added some respectable entries for Intersex, Abrosecxual, Greysexual, agender and butch lesbian. I am proud to say we are at 21 dinos!!!

But I am still very much open for more suggestions, so if you find any fitting dino pun, that I have not covered yet, please feel free to let me know ^.^

My goal still remains to have the most inclusive prehistoric pride dinosaur collection out there, so feel free to help me out a bit with fun ideas ;D

Happy pride to y'all!

I also got all of them as stickers on my etsy shop, so if any of you feel like supporting my silly dino art, please come by:

my prehistoric pride stickers:

[imaginethatneathuhpartdos]

Oh, I love this. So cute.

*loud coughing* what do you think about bofb bois reacting to the reader hiding op the top of a cupboard or something similar becuase of a cockroach (defo not talking about me here-)

Easy co. reacting to their s/o hiding because of a bug!

a/n: Hi sweet friend! I’m so so sorry for the late reply, this has been put on delay for a while but i’m so glad I can finally post it for you!

description: How the men of easy company would react to their s/o (you) hiding up on the kitchen counter because of a cockroach 🪳

taglist: @executethyself35 @linhkhanhcps @1waveshortofashipwreck @grumpy-liebgott @barbeygirl @samwinchesterslostshoe @ronsenthal @sweetxvanixlla @mstiemountainhop @imaginethatneathuh @goodluckbabeheffron @resting-distressed-face @bossboudicca (If you want to be on this list, let me know!! :))

BoB Masterlist

Dick Winters: When he walks into the kitchen to see you hiding on the counter, all he can do is chuckle. “Was it a spider?” Whenever you explain to him, he’s gonna look around the kitchen and inspect for you, when he finally catches the bug I feel like he’d release it outside instead of killing it, “C’mon dear let’s get you down from there.”

Lewis Nixon: I hate to break it to you, but he’s laughing in your face for a solid ten seconds before he does anything about the problem. “Really chickadee? You’re scared of a little bug?” It is a little show for you when he tries to catch the roach because the little fella is just too fast for nix. Finally once he catches him, He’s spraying raid on the little guy while trying to console you. “See, it’s dead.”

Carwood Lipton: He gets a little worried when you scream bloody murder from the kitchen. He runs out to see you, perfectly fine? And then you point to the roach and he finally understands what you were screaming about. I feel like he wouldn’t kill the roach like Dick, and take it outside. After he does that he’s checking on you to make sure you’re okay. “It’s not in here anymore honey, I handled it.”

Joe Toye: He’s getting raid (or whatever substance they used in the 1940s) and is killing the bug. Simple. Plain jane kinda stuff. “Let’s get down from the counter babydoll, I got the little fella’.” He honestly thinks your reaction is pretty cute. He’d never tell you but it makes him feel good when you call for him to kill bugs and such, it lets him know he still has some use to you lol.

Joe Liebgott: Hearing you scream honestly scares the shit outta him. He runs to you to see, what, a bug? “Doll you can’t scream like that, I thought you were being killed, and, why are you up there?” He forgets that you actually get terrified of bugs like plenty of others, “Don’t worry i’ll get him honey” I feel like Lew he’s gonna have a hard time catching him, and when he does he’s curb stomping it lmao

Bill Guarnere : He’s gonna be laughing at you until the roach starts crawling towards him, then he’s gonna be moving around yelling too. It literally looks like him and the bug are boxing up on each other. “This little fucker is going down.” After a long battle between him and the bug, he finally kills it. “Welp that was easy, sweet pea, don’t ya think” (cue in your laugh bc what?)

George Luz: Best believe he’s gonna be up there on that counter with you. He’s breaking the gender rules on this one. In his mind, the one who spots the roach has to kill it, and that person was you. (of course he’s gonna kill it for you but he has to tease you about it first.) “Baby look at it, he’s harmless, maybe we should keep him as a pet” After the teasing he’s finally going to get down and get the roach. “See honey, that was easy.”

Moe Alley : I have a feeling he’s gonna get the roach out quick and easy with no problem. He does think it’s pretty cute though when you get all scared over a little bug. “Don’t worry, sweet thing. I handled it.” Just know he’s gonna pick you up and plop you back on the floor if you stay up there for a while. Afterwhile I think he’d call an exterminator to make sure there weren’t any more where that one came from.

Eugene Roe: When he hears you yelling his name across the house he runs across the way to check on you “Woah there, what’s the matter?” He scolds you for yelling so sudden, just because it scared the crap out of him, but only for a second because he can never stay mad at you. “I got it, now everything is all good, darlin’.” He’s caring the roach with a jar and then releasing it back in the wild.

Bull Randleman: “Sweetheart what’s all this fussin’ about?” When you point to the bug all he can do is laugh, “That’s no big deal, I’ll get him for you,” This gentle giant is taking the roach and putting it outside, away from the house. Afterwards he’s gonna check on you to make sure you’re alright. “If you see any others you let me know, okay, honey?”

Floyd Talbert: A part of him freaks out when he sees a gigantic flying cockroach in the kitchen. “I never knew they could even get that big” He reluctantly tries to kill the bug, even though he is a bit scared (but at the same time trying to impress you) After he kills the bug and cleans up the mess, he gets so paranoid that there’s more out there. “ We should probably do some deep cleaning after this, don't you think?”

Skip Muck: He’s gonna freak out a bit, but he’s brave enough to get the job done (for you and you only) Catch him with the fly swatter hitting almost everything in the kitchen, missing everytime. “Okay, I almost got it!” Once he finally kills the bug he’s so relieved. “Thank God, I thought the bug was beating me for a second. He’s inspecting the house later though to make sure none of his other big buddies are still hiding out.

Don Malarkey: He’s taking the bug outside and finding it a little home somewhere out in the woods. “Let’s hope we don’t see anymore of those guys for a while.” He’s going to be so sweet when he checks up on you. Like consoling you even though the bug is long gone LOL “You okay, honey? I’m sure that gave you a big scare.”

Babe Heffron: He’s going to be yelling at the roach like it can hear him tbh. Running around the house hootin and hollerin with a broomstick trying to get the bug out the house. Once he finally kills it, He acts nonchalant after like he didn’t just give an oscar worthy performance right in front of you. “Ah it was nothing, but it is gonna cost you a kiss or two.”

Shifty Powers: He has a completely different reaction as babe haha, he’s so cute about the whole thing “Aww that’s what you’re afraid of? I got it honey.” I think like Don he’s taking the roach out and finding him a home somewhere in the woods. “It’s alright now, they’re living here just like us. Nothing to be scared of really.” (AHHHH my heart)

Frank Perconte : He’s having a panic attack when you tell him there’s a bug on the loose in the house. He starts tap dancing all over the kitchen to try and kill the bug. He’s the type of guy to spray an unnecessary amount of raid until the bug is completely dead. After that fiasco he’s calling an exterminator and making SURE there aren’t any more bugs around.

Ronald Speirs: He’s catching the bug fairly easy. I feel like he would catch it with a napkin and then squish it in his hands or something like that haha. “See honey, that was no problem at all.” He does take a kick out of seeing you up on the counter, like some of the others, I think it’s nice for him to know he’s still useful for something.

Johnny Martin: “What the hell is all that yelling about?” And then he sees the roach and totally understands your reaction. Surprisingly, I feel like he would have an extremely difficult time catching the bug. He’s knocking down whatever comes in his path to catch the little sucker. With his luck it might even fly right towards him. He’s gonna kill it just fine but it’s gonna take some elbow grease.

Chuck Grant : He’s gonna laugh at you a little bit before he actually does anything to remove the bug. “Babe, it's not gonna hurt you. I promise.” Finally he will get the job done with some raid or just one big stomp. “Are you alright sweet thing? See, it wasn't that bad at all.” He’s so sweet at reassuring you after if you were genuinely scared though.

Skinny Sisk: He’s teasing you so hard when he sees your reaction. “Are you kidding?” This little shit is catching the roach and waving it in front of your face like a jackass. “See baby, it likes you!” It’s going to take a lot for him to get on your good side after that one.

David Webster : He thinks it’s pretty cute to see you react that way over a little bug. He might be a little scared himself to get the roach and kill it but he’s not going to show that to you in the slightest. He’s probably gonna downplay the situation to calm you (and him) down. “I guess little critters aren’t so bad when you look at them like they’re rabbits, or even puppies.”

Buck Compton: He’s probably going to get up on the counter with you to try and make you laugh. He finds the whole situation hilarious. “You’re gonna protect me if the SOB comes up here right?” He’ll make himself a complete fool if it means making you less scared. Ngl, I can totally see him doing an irish jig on a cockroach to kill it LMAO

[imaginethatneathuhpartdos]

Worth it. So, so, so, so fucking worth it.

Beautifully done.

The Return

Alexei Vronsky x f!reader

Summary: "Darling, I’m sure Anna doesn’t want to monopolize our evening. Perhaps we should..." "Don’t worry," you cut in, your voice as sweet as it was sharp. "I’m just catching up. Three months is, after all, quite a long time to be away."

Warnings: angst, hurt, reconciliation, sensitive topics, mention of betrayal (not consummated), rebuilding trust, intense and emotional dialogues

A/N: anon, I hope I do justice to your request - I hope you enjoy reading <333

Masterlist

The train moved through the vast whiteness, cutting through the snow like a pioneer in unknown lands. The rhythmic sound of the wheels against the tracks filled the silence of the cabin as you gazed at the landscape through the window. Snowflakes gathered on the glass, creating ephemeral patterns that quickly disappeared with the warmth of the cabin. The winter was always harsh, but there was something poetically beautiful in the monotony of the icy horizon.

You pressed the small bundle of letters against your chest, feeling the rough paper in your hands. Alexei's words echoed in your mind, the familiar phrases you'd read and reread countless times over the past three months. "I hope the snow is gentle with you," he had written in the last letter. "Natasha misses you, and so do I. Come back to us soon."

Alexei's handwriting had always been precise, almost meticulous, but it seemed to have lost something. Perhaps a fluidity, or the warmth with which he used to end each message with affectionate declarations. Not that he had been cold; far from it. But there was a restraint in the words, as if he were trying to hide something. You shook your head, pushing the thoughts away. There was no room for doubt. Alexei was your husband, and your nearly three years together had been surprisingly harmonious for an arranged marriage. You had built something real, something that seemed unshakable.

The longing tightened like a knot in your chest. It was almost impossible to be away from Natasha, your daughter, who was under two years old and already the light of your days. You could imagine her now, perhaps playing with the blonde curls she had inherited from Alexei or dragging some toy across the floor of the hall. Alexei would surely be close by, attentive, although not the type to show excessive affection. He had a magnetic calm, a charisma that drew looks and trust from everyone around him.

You closed your eyes for a moment, remembering his face. The sharp features, the hair he always kept immaculate, but which seemed to rebel against control in the most intimate moments. His eyes, as clear as ice melting under the sun, held a depth that disarmed anyone who looked at them long enough. And yet, there was gentleness there, a softness he reserved only for you and Natasha.

The train made a turn, shaking lightly. You held your purse at your side and glanced at the clock. Only a few hours remained until you reached the station, and the thought quickened your heartbeat. What would the reunion be like? You felt your hands anxious, the words you might say to him forming and dissipating in your mind.

You opened the last letter again, your eyes following the familiar words. "The house is emptier without you. Natasha calls for you every night. I’ve been distracting myself with... events, but it’s not enough. Please come back to us soon." Something in the sentence felt hesitant, as though there was more he hadn’t said. But before you could reflect further, the train gave a final jolt, announcing the approach of the destination.

You took a deep breath, putting the letter away and straightening your posture. Soon, very soon, you would be home.

The station was alive with the sound of carriage wheels on the pavement, hurried footsteps, and voices muffled by the steam of the trains coming and going. The air was heavy with the smell of burning coal and the biting cold of winter. You gripped your suitcase tightly, your heart pounding in your chest as you stepped off the train. It had been almost three months away from home, away from him, away from Natasha.

Your gaze swept over the crowd, searching for a familiar figure. Men in top hats and heavy coats hurried past, women wrapped in shawls shielded their faces from the cold, but it wasn’t any of them you were looking for. Then, you saw him.

Alexei stood near a cast-iron column, his imposing stature setting him apart from the chaos around him. He wore a dark gray overcoat that accentuated his broad shoulders, and a black hat partially shaded his face. But it was impossible not to recognize those eyes—clear as ice in the sun, watching you with intensity, as though the world had stopped.

You paused for a moment, unable to breathe, unable to believe that you were finally here. He took a step forward, removing his hat with an elegant gesture, revealing his perfectly styled blonde hair, though a stubborn lock fell over his forehead. Time seemed to freeze around him, the bustling station blurring into an indistinct haze. All that remained was him.

"Alexei," you whispered, your voice choked with the emotion rising to the surface.

He didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he walked toward you with long, determined strides, his face controlled, but his eyes betraying a storm of feelings. When he stopped just inches from you, the silence between the two of you seemed to speak louder than any words.

"You’re back," he finally said, his deep voice heavy with something you couldn’t name. He seemed so calm, so restrained, but the way his eyes traced every line of your face, as if making sure you were real, betrayed how much he had missed you.

You let the suitcase fall to the ground and took a step toward him, unable to hold back. The distance between you vanished when you threw yourself into his arms, your fingers gripping the heavy fabric of his overcoat as you buried your face in his chest. He seemed stiff at first, as though the moment had caught him by surprise, but in seconds, his arms closed around you, strong, protective, as if he never wanted to let go.

"Alexei," you murmured again, the sound muffled against him. The words failed, but it didn’t matter. The way he held you, with an almost desperate firmness, said everything he couldn’t express.

He tilted his head, his face buried in your hair. You felt the warmth of his breath on the top of your head, the subtle touch of his lips against your strands. "I was counting the days," he murmured, his voice so low you almost didn’t hear it. "Every damn day."

You pulled away just enough to look at him, your eyes full of the tears you’d tried to hold back. "Me too. I counted them too, Alexei."

He raised one of his hands, his broad, strong fingers sliding along the side of your face, wiping away a lone tear that had escaped. "You’ve lost weight," he observed, concern evident in the softness of his voice. "But still beautiful." The corner of his lips curved into a brief smile, a shadow of the charisma you knew so well, but still devastating.

You laughed, even though the emotion still tightened your throat. "And you look... more tired. Is everything okay? And Natasha? Is she okay?"

"She misses you. We both do," he replied, the smile fading as seriousness returned to his face. "She’s at home, waiting for you. She kept looking at the door every day, asking when you’d come back."

Your heart squeezed at the words, at the image of your daughter so small and eager for your presence. "I need to see her," you said, the urgency growing.

"Let’s go home," Alexei said, effortlessly taking your suitcase and holding your hand with the other. "We’ve waited long enough."

As he guided you through the station, his hand firm on your back, you felt that despite the chaos around you, there was something solid in being next to him again. The connection between you both seemed to have withstood time and distance, but deep down in your heart, you still felt a shadow, something you couldn’t name. Something hiding in the corners of your thoughts and in the glances that Alexei, as loving as they were, couldn’t completely mask.

The carriage jolted gently as it moved through the icy streets of St. Petersburg. Outside, the sky was painted a dark gray, and the snow covered everything like a white blanket. Inside, warm and cozy, you couldn’t stop looking at Alexei. He was sitting beside you, one hand holding yours, his gaze fixed on the window as if he were lost in thought. The silence between you was only filled by the sound of the horses’ hooves on the road.

"So," you began, your voice breaking the silence, "what happened while I was gone? How is Natasha? Is she eating well? Is she sleeping properly? And you? Alexei, is everything okay?"

He turned his face slowly, his clear eyes landing on you with an intensity that almost made you shrink. "Natasha is fine," he replied, his voice low and controlled. "She missed you, but she’s strong. I... I’m fine. Don’t worry about me."

"Of course I worry," you retorted, narrowing your eyes. "Three months, Alexei. Almost three months without seeing her. Without seeing you. Don’t tell me not to worry."

He sighed, his free hand rising to loosen his tie. "It was... a busy time," he admitted, looking away. "But now you’re here. That’s what matters."

Busy. The word hung in the air, heavy and vague. You studied him in silence, noticing small details that hadn’t been there before. The stiffness in his shoulders, the subtle dark circles under his eyes that the soft light of the carriage couldn’t quite hide, and something in his eyes – a shadow, a weight that seemed to have settled in during your absence.

"Busy how?" you insisted, feeling an increasing need to understand.

"Society matters," he said, evasive. "Ball after ball, endless appointments... nothing worth mentioning now. We’re almost home. Natasha’s waiting for you."

His words were like a barrier, a calculated response to end the subject. You wanted to insist, wanted to ask what exactly had been consuming him, but something in his tone – and maybe something in you – made you pull back. It wasn’t the time, not yet.

When the carriage finally stopped in front of your house, your heart raced. Alexei stepped down first, extending his hand to help you down, the gesture so natural and courteous it seemed like an extension of who he was. You accepted, stepping down carefully and looking at the familiar facade of the residence. Everything was the same, yet at the same time, something felt different.

Inside the house, the warmth of the fire in the hearth and the scent of burning wood wrapped around you in a feeling of comfort. Your eyes scanned the space, searching for her – your daughter, your Natasha. And then you saw her.

She was in the arms of a nanny, sitting near the fireplace. Her blonde hair shimmered in the warm light of the fire, and her rosy cheeks were rounder than you remembered. She turned her head when she heard your steps and blinked, as if trying to confirm that it was really you.

"Natasha," you called, your voice thick.

The little girl blinked again before a wide smile lit up her face. "Mommy!" she cried, squirming in the nanny’s arms until she was placed on the floor.

You couldn’t wait. You knelt on the rug and opened your arms, barely believing you’d finally have her in your arms again. Natasha ran towards you with hurried, awkward steps, stumbling slightly but not stopping until she threw herself into you.

"My girl," you murmured, holding her against your chest and burying your face in her soft hair. She smelled of soap and something sweet, something you could only describe as her.

Natasha began to speak excitedly, her words tumbling over each other as she told you about things that, to her, were grand adventures – the new toys, the walks in the garden, the stories her father had told her before bed. You laughed and cried at the same time, absorbing every detail, every word, as if you needed to make up for all the lost time.

"You're so big now," you said, holding her face in your hands. "My big girl. I missed you so much."

"I missed you too, Mommy," she replied, her words coming out a little jumbled, but still clear enough to warm your heart.

For a moment, you forgot everything – the station, the unanswered questions, the subtle changes in Alexei. All that mattered was the comforting weight of your daughter in your arms and the feeling of finally being where you were meant to be.

You lifted your eyes to Alexei, who was leaning against the doorframe, watching the scene with an expression that was impossible to decipher. "We're together again," you said, your voice soft and full of emotion. "Finally together."

Something passed through his eyes, something that made him look away for a brief moment before he replied. "Yes," he said, but the word seemed to carry more weight than it should have. He took a step forward, kneeling beside you.

"Natasha," he called gently, and the little girl turned to him with a radiant smile. "Are you happy now? Mommy is home."

"Happy," Natasha replied, laughing and grabbing one of his hands while still holding yours.

The moment was perfect, almost. But the way Alexei looked at you – as if there was something he wanted to say, but couldn’t – left a small shadow lingering over your heart. You pushed the thought aside, determined to enjoy the reunion. After all, you were home. With them.

Dinner went by in a mix of light conversations and moments of pure joy. Natasha, always chatty, monopolized much of the attention with her stories and childish laughter, and you could hardly contain your smile seeing her so excited. Sitting at the table with your family again felt like a balm for your heart, something you had longed for through endless weeks. Alexei, in turn, remained a bit quieter than usual, but still participated with occasional comments, always attentive, always directed to you or your daughter.

After dinner, you took on the task of putting Natasha to bed, refusing any help. It was a moment you wanted for yourself, a ritual you had missed so much during your absence. In the little one’s room, you dressed her in a soft cotton pajama, decorated with tiny flower designs, and sat by her bed while she snuggled under the covers.

"Sing to me, Mommy," Natasha asked, her sleepy eyes already blinking slowly.

"Of course, my little flower," you replied, stroking her hair before you began to sing a soft lullaby, one that your own mother used to sing to you.

When Natasha finally fell asleep, breathing softly against her pillow, you stayed for a few more minutes in the room, just watching her. Her chest rose and fell in a peaceful rhythm, and her little face, lit by the dim light of the lamp, seemed like the perfect picture of peace. Your heart filled with an almost overwhelming love, so intense that it was hard to put into words.

As you left the room, you made your way to the master bedroom. The house was quiet, and the hallways seemed bathed in a cozy dimness. When you opened the door, you found Alexei sitting in an armchair near the fireplace, a glass of wine balanced in his hand. He had changed out of his formal dinner clothes into a white linen shirt, unbuttoned at the collar, and lighter pants. His golden hair was a bit messy, as if he had run his fingers through it several times. The fire cast soft shadows on his face, highlighting his strong jawline and marked cheekbones.

You paused for a moment in the doorway, watching him without saying anything. He seemed lost in thought, his clear eyes fixed on the fire. There was something about him that always made him seem a bit younger and yet filled with a maturity that made him irresistible – a mix of vulnerability and strength that seemed uniquely his.

"You’re very thoughtful," you said, finally breaking the silence as you closed the door behind you.

Alexei lifted his eyes, and his expression softened when he saw you. "Just thinking about how much I missed you," he replied, his voice low and filled with sincerity.

You walked over to him, feeling the warmth of the fire as you drew closer. "Three months," you murmured, stopping beside the armchair. "It felt like an eternity."

He set his wine glass aside and reached out his hand, pulling you gently into his lap. You let yourself be guided, snuggling against him as his strong arms closed around you. His scent – a mix of wood and something subtly citrusy – was so familiar that it made your eyes close for a moment.

"You’ve lost weight," you said, a touch of concern in your voice as you traced your fingers along his collar. "Haven’t been eating well?"

"Do you think food tastes the same when you're not here?" Alexei replied, a slight smile curving his lips. He tilted his head, his clear eyes searching yours. "You’re the heart of this house. Nothing feels right without you."

His words, so simple and direct, made your heart race. You lifted one hand to touch his face, your fingers brushing the line of his jaw. "You have a way of saying things that completely unravels me, Alexei," you admitted, your voice barely a whisper.

He smiled, the kind of smile that seemed to carry so much affection it almost hurt. "Just being honest," he replied, leaning in to brush his lips against yours. The kiss was soft at first, almost hesitant, but it quickly deepened, becoming more intense, filled with longing and need.

When his lips finally pulled away, he rested his forehead against yours, his warmth surrounding you completely. "Promise me you’ll never stay away for so long again," he asked, his tone more vulnerable than you were used to.

"I promise," you replied, feeling a lump form in your throat. "But you have to promise me something too."

Alexei tilted his head, his clear eyes fixed on you with an intensity that made your heart race. "Anything," he said, his voice low and deep, filled with sincerity.

"If something is wrong, if something is weighing on you, I want you to tell me," you continued, holding his gaze. "We’re a team, Alexei. We always have been."

For a moment, he didn’t respond, just watched you as if trying to memorize every detail of your expression. Then he slid one of his hands to your face, holding it with a gentleness that contrasted with the evident strength in his fingers.

"I promise," he murmured, but the way he said the words – slow and measured – suggested something deeper, something he wasn’t ready to share yet.

Before you could respond, Alexei leaned in to kiss you again, and this time, there was no hesitation. The kiss was a fusion of longing and need, filled with everything that had gone unsaid during the three months you had been apart. You felt his arms wrap around your waist, pulling you closer, as if he needed to prove to himself that you were there, real and present.

"You have no idea how much I missed you," he said against your lips, his voice rough and broken.

You closed your eyes, absorbing the warmth of his confession as your fingers slid into his hair, messing up the golden strands even more. "I know," you whispered, your heart tight with the weight of lost time. "I missed you too... everything about you."

Alexei didn’t respond with words. Instead, he rose from the armchair with you still in his arms and walked toward the bed. The movement was so natural, so full of intention, that you found yourself unable to look away from him.

"Three months," he murmured as he gently laid you down on the sheets, his eyes roaming over your face as if he were trying to memorize every detail. "It was the longest three months of my life."

You reached up to touch his face, tracing the line of his strong jaw and the contour of his lips, now curved into an almost imperceptible smile. "Then let’s not waste another moment," you replied, your voice soft but filled with conviction.

He didn’t need any more encouragement. Alexei leaned down, his lips finding yours again, but this time with a passion that was both raw and controlled. His hands explored every familiar curve, as if he needed to remember every part of you.

The night unfolded in a mix of whispers, touches, and moments of pure connection. He was gentle, as always, but there was a new intensity, something that spoke of lost time and how much he had longed for you. Every gesture, every word whispered in your ear seemed to carry the weight of everything you both hadn’t been able to express during the months of separation.

In the end, you found yourself nestled against his chest, your heart still racing while his fingers traced lazy patterns on your back. His breath was deep and steady, and you closed your eyes, allowing yourself to relax completely for the first time in months.

"Promise me you won’t leave again," he whispered, breaking the silence.

"I promise," you replied, your voice thick with exhaustion and the overwhelming love you felt for him.

And while the world outside continued with its concerns and challenges, there, in Alexei’s arms, you finally found the peace you had longed for.

The following days brought a routine that you embraced with more joy than you expected. After three months apart, every detail of life at home seemed more significant. The familiar scent of the freshly tended garden, the soft laughter of your daughter echoing through the halls, the sound of Alexei talking with the servants — all of it formed a comforting mosaic, bringing back the feeling of belonging.

Still, there was something different.

Alexei remained attentive and engaged, but you noticed moments when he seemed lost in thought. His eyes, so expressive, carried a restlessness that he masked well. It wasn’t anything glaring, but you noticed. A lingering stare into nothing, slightly delayed responses, a subtle change in tone by the end of the day. It was subtle, but you could feel the difference, as only someone who knew him so deeply could. Still, you decided not to press him. The reunion was still recent; maybe time would erase any shadow that was troubling him.

It was in this context that the first big event since your return took place: a ball.

The night arrived with a light chill, which seemed to accentuate the elegance of the event. The mansion hosting the ball gleamed like a jewel under the starry sky, with torches lighting the path flanked by snow-covered trees. Carriages arrived one after another, unloading elegantly dressed guests, while servants hurried to collect coats and organize the entrance.

Inside the hall, the atmosphere was even more breathtaking. Crystal chandeliers reflected the candlelight in a sparkling display, casting golden and silver patterns on the ornate walls. A string quintet played softly, filling the air with elegant music, while the scent of fresh flowers and wine lingered in the atmosphere. Guests in luxurious dresses and impeccable suits moved gracefully through the space, their voices in animated murmurs, interspersed with restrained laughter.

You entered the ballroom alongside Alexei, his arm firmly resting on yours, a gesture that seemed natural and yet carefully displayed for society. He looked impeccable in his formal uniform, with golden details accentuating his broad shoulders and proud posture. His hair, always carefully styled, reflected the light as if it were made of golden strands, and his light eyes scanned the room with a gaze that was both warm and vigilant.

You had also prepared carefully for the occasion. Your deep blue dress contrasted with the lighter tones around you, the silver embroidery seeming to capture the light with every movement. The elegant neckline and long sleeves accentuated your silhouette, and you felt the gazes following you as you walked past him.

"Everyone’s watching you," Alexei murmured in your ear, his tone both protective and proud.

You smiled, not looking directly at him. "Maybe they’re watching you."

He tilted his head slightly, as if considering your response, but the playful gleam in his eyes revealed that he liked the idea.

However, as the evening went on, something changed.

As you conversed with some acquaintances, you noticed diverted glances, muffled whispers, and a growing discomfort began to settle in. It wasn’t paranoia; people were definitely talking about something. Their polished smiles and courteous greetings barely masked the tension on the faces of those you knew well.

It was during a pause in the music that you saw it.

Alexei was on the other side of the room, speaking to someone you immediately recognized: Anna.

She looked stunning in a red dress, her dark hair perfectly arranged, and a smile that seemed to enchant everyone around her. Alexei was slightly leaned toward her, which in itself wasn’t unusual—he had always been attentive in conversations. But there was something in the way he looked at her, an intensity you had never seen before.

Your heart tightened, and you felt the world around you slow down for a moment.

You quickly averted your gaze, pretending to be interested in a glass of champagne that a servant offered. Your face betrayed nothing; you knew how to control your emotions in public. But inside, questions began to form, each one more difficult than the last.

Alexander approached with a cordial smile, his imposing figure standing out in the already rich environment of ornaments and luxurious dresses. His suit was impeccable, a deep gray that contrasted with his brown eyes, so different from Alexei’s. Despite the physical and personality distinctions, there was something about him that inspired the same aura of confidence and power as his brother.

"Allow me to steal you for a walk, my dear sister-in-law," he said, his voice low and polite, but still carrying the warmth that always made you feel welcomed.

You accepted without hesitation, offering him a smile that didn’t reach your eyes. "It would be a pleasure."

Alexander extended his arm, and you took it, allowing him to guide you away from the conversation circle you were in. The murmurs and laughter from the ballroom seemed to grow in the background as you moved at a slow pace, wandering between the marble columns and the glow of the chandeliers.

"How has your return been so far?" he asked, the conversation casual, but his observant eyes betrayed something deeper.

"Tiring," you replied, with a practiced lightness. "But I’m relieved to finally be back."

Alexander let out a soft, almost imperceptible laugh. "I imagine it wasn’t easy to leave everything behind for so long."

"It wasn’t," you admitted, turning your face to watch the guests dancing in the center of the ballroom. "But some things can’t be ignored, as you well know."

He nodded, but didn’t say anything for a moment. Then you felt it: the looks he gave you, longer than they should’ve been, almost condescending. There was no judgment in them, but a kind of compassion that made you feel an increasing discomfort.

"Does something about my appearance seem off?" you asked, trying to hide your unease with a light joke.

"Not at all," he replied quickly. "You look stunning tonight."

You knew he wasn’t just being polite, but the weight behind his words was hard to ignore. Alexander wasn’t one to speak too much, but his ability to convey the unspoken was almost unbearable.

"Did Alexei mention anything about my absence?" you asked, finally gathering the courage to address the matter that had been on your mind since you entered the ballroom.

"Alexei..." Alexander began, but then stopped, his eyes fixed on something—or someone.

You followed his gaze. There was Alexei, still by Anna Karenina’s side. She was laughing at something Alexei had said, her head slightly tilted toward him. And Alexei… He had that look in his eyes. Something soft, something captivating. Something you rarely saw when he looked at anyone else.

The world around you seemed to slow down, every sound muffled, as if the entire ballroom had fallen silent. You felt Alexander’s arm move slightly beneath your hand, bringing your attention back to him.

"Anna is a remarkable lady," Alexander said, his voice low and controlled.

"I know who she is," you replied, almost not realizing you had spoken out loud.

"Of course you do," he murmured, but there was something in his tone that suggested more than mere confirmation.

You continued walking, but your attention kept drifting back to the sight of Alexei and Anna. The way he leaned slightly toward her, his smile—not forced, but genuine.

"Alexander," you began, your voice sounding more hesitant than you would’ve liked. "Is there something I should know?"

He hesitated, just enough for the tension in the air to rise. "You know Alexei has a restless heart. He’s like a bird who sees an open window and can’t resist the curiosity."

"That doesn’t answer my question," you retorted, your hand tightening slightly on his arm.

"Because some questions don’t need to be answered," he said, giving you a look that was both understanding and protective.

There was a latent pain in his words, as if he understood perfectly what you were feeling, but knew that no explanation could ease the weight in your chest.

You glanced at Alexei again, and this time, you met his gaze. He saw you, and for a moment, something in his expression changed. It was as if the magic of that moment with Anna had been broken, as if he were a boy caught in a forbidden act.

You adjusted your dress with an automatic gesture, while the muffled sound of the orchestra seemed like a distant soundtrack to the turmoil inside you. Alexander stepped away after a brief farewell. Each step he took toward Alexei and Anna was a decision that reverberated in your chest like the echo of a heavy bell. The distance between you seemed like an abyss, but still, you kept going. There was no turning back now.

Alexei straightened up, adjusting his suit as if that could somehow protect him from the intensity of your gaze. Beside him, Anna turned, offering a calculated smile that didn’t reach her eyes.

"Darling," Alexei began, his voice sounding controlled, but without the familiarity you so longed for. "We were just talking about—"

"Don’t worry," you interrupted softly, your tone impeccable but with a hint of ice. "I don’t want to interrupt."

Anna tilted her head, as if analyzing every word you said. "It’s always nice to meet such a courteous soul," she said, the smile remaining but with something sharp hidden in her expression. "I was just commenting to Alexei how charming this ballroom is. It’s no wonder so many important events happen here."

"Ah, yes," you replied, keeping your tone polite but feeling the lump in your throat grow. "This is the kind of place where people meet, isn’t it? But I must say, I haven’t had the pleasure of meeting your husband, Anna. Isn’t he joining you?"

Her smile faltered for a moment, but quickly recovered. "Unfortunately, he couldn’t come today. Business, you understand."

"Certainly," you murmured, letting the word hang in the air, laden with meanings that no one dared mention. "I imagine it’s difficult to keep up with all the engagements when one is so busy. I’ve felt the same since I returned. It seems there’s so much I’ve missed."

Alexei cleared his throat, his unease evident. He shot you a quick, almost pleading look, but you ignored it, keeping your eyes fixed on Anna. "But it’s good to know that Alexei has been in good company while I’ve been away," you added, a soft, almost imperceptible smile touching your lips.

Anna responded with a polite laugh, but you noticed the slight tension in her shoulders. "Ah, of course, Alexei is a gentleman. He was just telling me about some… society matters."

"He’s truly very helpful," you said, tilting your head, as if reflecting. "Always so thoughtful."

Alexei intervened, his voice low but firm. "Darling, I’m sure Anna doesn’t want to monopolize our evening. Perhaps we should..."

"Don’t worry," you cut in, your voice as sweet as it was sharp. "I’m just catching up. Three months is, after all, quite a long time to be away."

The words fell like stones on a glass surface. The ballroom around you seemed to grow quieter, or perhaps it was just your perception, distorted by the growing pain inside you. Your fingers trembled slightly, but you hid them between the folds of your dress, struggling to maintain the flawless appearance.

Anna smiled, but this time the gesture seemed more like a mask than anything else. "Well, I won’t steal any more of your time. It was a pleasure, as always."

"Certainly," you replied, nodding your head in farewell, but the look you cast at Alexei was not one of farewell. It was something deeper, something you knew he would understand.

As she walked away, the silence between you was deafening. Alexei reached out to touch your arm, but you took a step back, keeping your gaze fixed on him.

"Not here," you murmured, your voice low and controlled, though the tremor in your hands betrayed the chaos inside you.

He hesitated, as if wanting to argue, but the weariness in his eyes seemed to silence him. You turned on your heel, head held high, and began to walk away, but the weight in your chest was overwhelming.

As you moved through the ballroom, the noise around you slowly returned, but it felt distant, as if it came from a world you no longer belonged to. With each step, you felt the pieces of the puzzle falling into place, and each one pierced your soul like a sharp blade.

As you walked between the guests, your dress impeccably adjusted and your smile carefully positioned, the emptiness in your chest seemed to expand with each passing moment. The conversation with Alexei and Anna had revealed more than words could express; it was as if a veil had been torn, exposing something you had suspected, but refused to accept.

The glances that always seemed to last a second longer than necessary, the muffled whispers when you passed... now it all clicked. It wasn’t just your imagination, it wasn’t just the insecurities of a wife who had been away too long. It was something tangible, something that everyone there knew and that you were just beginning to understand.

You moved between the groups, smiling and waving mechanically, refusing to stop long enough for anyone to notice the crack growing in your mask. Alexei, for his part, kept his distance, respecting the space you clearly required, but still, you felt his gaze on you, heavy and silent, as if each time your eyes met, he was trying to say something.

The dinner table was a lavish sight, filled with delicacies that would have been irresistible on any other occasion. But now, just looking at the dishes made you feel nauseous. The last thing you could bear was pretending to have an appetite. You grabbed a glass of wine, more out of a need for something to hold than a desire to drink.

You tried to engage in the conversations, but the words of the others reached you like indistinct echoes. It was as if everyone in the room spoke a language you no longer understood. When someone mentioned Alexei, even casually, you felt the weight of the words, as if they were stones thrown at you.

The night seemed to drag on endlessly, each minute a silent torture. You deliberately avoided Alexei, moving from group to group.

When the moment to leave finally arrived, relief mixed with anguish, as if leaving the ballroom could ease the pain, even if only for a moment. Alexei waited for you by the entrance, as he always did, but this time there was something different about him. He didn’t try to touch your hand, didn’t make any casual remarks to break the silence. He simply opened the carriage door, and you stepped in without looking at him.

The ride back home was enveloped in an almost unbearable silence. The carriage swayed gently along the road, but every movement seemed to intensify the tension in the air. You kept your eyes fixed on the window, watching the passing lights and trying, in vain, to find some sense of normalcy in what had once been so familiar.

Alexei tried to speak once. "I..." he started, but his voice died the moment you turned to him, your gaze firm yet silent, saying everything that needed to be said. He sighed, leaning back in his seat, and didn’t try anything further.

The ride home was a blur, and when the door to the bedroom clicked shut behind you, echoing in the heavy silence of the house, it felt like an inevitable trigger. What had once been carefully controlled—the expressionless face, the calculated steps, the impeccable posture—crumbled as soon as you found yourself alone.

The first tear slipped silently down your cheek, warm and heavy, followed by another, then another. You tried desperately to stifle the sound rising in your throat, but the sob came, breaking the silence like a desperate wail.

Your legs gave way, and you leaned against the edge of the bed, your hands trembling as they gripped the fabric of your dress. All the weight of what you felt seemed to collapse at once—the pain of betrayal, the humiliation of the glances in the ballroom, the emptiness growing inside you.

Then, without warning, you heard footsteps behind you. Alexei. He must have heard the muffled sound of your crying or simply knew he couldn't leave you alone in that moment. He entered the room, and upon seeing you like this, his eyes filled with something impossible to describe — regret, pain, perhaps even desperation.

"No," you managed to say, your voice choked, your teary eyes meeting his. "Don't come closer."

But he didn’t stop. He ignored the warning in your voice, the protests in your expression. His large, firm hands gently landed on yours, which were still trembling, trying to push him away, but he didn’t give in.

"Don’t do this, Alexei," you whispered, your voice breaking. "No... I can’t..."

He didn’t respond with words. He simply pulled you close, wrapping you in his arms, the firmness of his touch contrasting with the gentleness with which he held you, as though you were something precious and fragile he feared breaking even more.

"Why?" you asked, your voice desperate, almost a muffled scream against his chest. "Why wasn’t I enough? Why, Alexei? I tried... I always tried..."

Your hands pushed against him, or at least tried to, but he remained still, his own hands holding you tighter, as if fearing you would escape. You struggled, but it was futile. He was stronger, and you didn’t have the energy to fight against his grip or the storm of emotions consuming you.

"I loved you," you continued, the words coming out in broken sobs. "I still love... And that wasn’t enough, was it? I gave up everything for you, and you... you..."

But the words were lost in the crying. Your voice disappeared, but the tears kept coming, hot and relentless, soaking the fabric of his shirt as you collapsed. Alexei still hadn’t said anything. He didn’t try to explain, didn’t try to justify. He just held you, pressing your face against the top of your head, his lips touching your forehead in a gesture that seemed desperate.

"Why don’t you say anything?" you murmured, your voice weak and hesitant, mixed with the sobs. "Say something, Alexei... Please..."

But he couldn’t. His hands held you as if he could keep you whole with just his touch. His breathing was irregular, almost as frantic as yours. He seemed as lost as you, as incapable of dealing with what was happening as you were.

Eventually, his strength gave out. The crying subsided, the sobs becoming more spaced out until exhaustion overtook you. You stopped trying to pull away, stopped fighting against his grip. Your body went limp in his arms, exhausted, defeated.

Alexei remained there, holding you as if he could rebuild everything with the strength of his embrace, as if he could erase the pain with his closeness. But the space between you, invisible and overwhelming, seemed to grow with each passing second. Your breath, once broken by crying, was now just a tired whisper against his chest.

He finally loosened his grip, just enough to look at you. His eyes, so familiar, were now filled with a weight you had never seen before — something almost unbearable to face. He raised one hand, hesitantly, to touch your face, but you turned away slightly, pulling back in a way almost imperceptible. It was enough for him to freeze.

"Please," you whispered, your voice hoarse and broken, barely more than a thread of sound. "Please, Alexei, go away."

His eyes widened slightly, as if your words had hit him hard. He opened his mouth, perhaps to say something, to protest, but the silence in the room seemed to swallow any attempt.

"I can't..." He stopped, his voice faltering. "I can't leave you like this."

You turned your gaze away, unable to bear the way he looked so desperate, so lost. "I can't sleep with you here tonight. Not like this," you admitted, feeling each word tear at you like glass as it left your mouth. "Please, Alexei. Just... just go."

He took a step back, as if the words had physically pushed him away. The pain on his face was evident, as if you had taken something essential from him. He looked at you with a mix of disbelief and anguish, before slowly shaking his head.

"You can't push me away like this," he murmured, his eyes shining with torment he couldn’t hide. "We never... we never sleep apart."

You closed your eyes tightly, trying to ignore the tremor in his voice, the weight of the memories those words brought. "I know," you replied, your voice barely audible. "But tonight... I need it. I need space, Alexei."

For a moment, he seemed about to argue, to take another step toward you. But then he saw something in your eyes — something that made him stop. The pain you were feeling was there, raw and open, impossible to ignore. And seeing it, something inside him seemed to break.

He stepped closer one last time, hesitantly, as if each movement was a battle. "I..." His voice faltered, and he swallowed hard. "I never meant to hurt you. Never."

You didn’t respond. Not because you had nothing to say, but because you were too broken to find the words.

When he raised his hand, this time to touch your cheek, you instinctively pulled back. It was subtle, but enough for him to notice. The pain in his eyes turned into something deeper — pure despair, as if that small gesture had taken away any ground he still had left.

"I will," he finally said, his voice low and rough, each word weighed down with something that felt like a ton. "But that doesn’t mean I’m not here. I... I’m not going anywhere, understood?"

You just nodded, not meeting his eyes, your body still tense with the weight of everything that had happened that night.

Alexei stood still for another moment, as if trying to memorize the moment, or perhaps gathering the courage to leave. When he finally turned, the sound of the door opening and closing behind him was both a relief and a final blow.

You stayed there, alone in the room, the silence once again filled only by the sound of your irregular breathing. And for the first time in a long time, the bed felt immense, cold, and empty.

The night was an endless torment. The silence of the room felt larger than any physical space, filled only by the echo of what had happened. You stayed sitting at the edge of the bed, staring into the emptiness, unable to lie down on the surface that still held his warmth. The feeling of Alexei’s absence was suffocating, but the thought of sharing the same space with him again so soon was even more unbearable.

The minutes dragged on until they became hours. Every sound in the house seemed amplified: the distant creaking of wood, the rustling of the wind against the windows, the occasional footsteps of someone downstairs.

When morning finally began to break the sky, painting the room with a gray, hesitant light, you heard the unmistakable sound of footsteps in the hallway. Slowly, almost hesitantly, they approached the door. The knock was soft, almost restrained, but still it echoed like thunder in your chest.

"I'm leaving," his voice came through the wood, low and hoarse, carrying a weight that seemed to suffocate every word. "Please... take care of yourself."

You remained silent. Every part of you screamed to respond, to open the door, but the pain weighed heavier. Silence became your only answer. On the other side, you heard a nearly imperceptible sigh, and then the footsteps receded. When the front door closed, the sound reverberated through the house like a final warning, leaving everything even emptier.

When you finally found the strength to leave the room, the sun was higher, casting a soft glow over the halls of the house, but you didn’t feel any warmth. The cold seemed to have settled inside you, a constant weight that made each movement feel like a Herculean task.

Little Natasha was in the living room, playing with a set of dolls, her face illuminated by the innocence you knew you should protect at all costs. But at that moment, even before she looked up at you, something changed in her expression.

"Good morning, Mommy," she said, her sweet, hesitant little voice.

You forced a smile, but it felt as if every muscle in your face was being pulled against your will. "Good morning, my love."

She put down the dolls and ran to you, her small arms wrapping around your legs. It was such a simple, genuine gesture that it made something inside you break again. You bent down and held her, squeezing her to your chest as if she were your anchor.

"Are you sad?" Natasha asked, her voice muffled against your shoulder.

"No, my angel," you replied, but the hoarseness in your voice was deceitful. "Mommy is just a little tired."

Natasha pulled away slightly, her blue eyes — so incredibly similar to Alexei’s — locking onto yours. They were curious, deep in a way that seemed impossible for someone so small.

"You look sad," she insisted, her little fingers reaching up to touch your face, as if she could wipe away a tear that hadn’t even fallen yet.

You held her tiny hand, squeezing it gently. "Mommy is fine, I promise," you said, but the lie was so fragile that it felt like it could shatter at any moment.

She didn’t respond, only nestling back into your arms. You closed your eyes, inhaling the soft scent of her hair, and allowed yourself to simply feel the moment. But even in that tenderness, there was a throbbing pain.

Natasha was a living reminder of Alexei. Every feature of hers — the eyes, the soft hair, the curious expression — was a painful reflection of the man you loved, but who now seemed so distant. With each glance at her, you were reminded of what was at risk, of what seemed to be crumbling beneath your feet.

You held your daughter a little tighter, trying to find comfort in that closeness. But the pain was there, persistent and unbearable, like a shadow you couldn’t shake off.

The attraction to Anna had been as unexpected as it was unsettling. It wasn’t something Alexei had sought or even desired, but there was something about her that seemed to challenge every fiber of his sensibility. She was enigmatic in a way that eluded him, a vibrant presence amid the salons and social gatherings that otherwise seemed so monotonous. Her beauty was undeniable, but that wasn’t what fascinated him. It was the way she seemed to exist in her own world, as if she were always one step ahead of the expectations society imposed on them.

In the early casual encounters, he had thought it was just a passing curiosity, an innocuous distraction. But as the months dragged on and the absence of his wife was felt more acutely, Anna became a beacon of something undefinable, something he couldn’t ignore. They never crossed any lines. Not a touch, not a kiss. But the long conversations, the glances that lasted a second longer than allowed, were enough to create a chasm of doubt within him.

Now, looking back, Alexei hated himself for letting it happen. It was a betrayal not only to his wife but to everything they had built together. He couldn’t deny that the distance between them during her absence had fed something dark. With her gone, the days had become unbearably empty. Her absence was a constant echo that resonated in every corner of the house, and he, in his weakness, had sought comfort in a presence that should have meant nothing.

But Anna wasn’t his wife. She wasn’t the woman who had shared his fears, his dreams, his life. She wasn’t the mother of his daughter, the companion he had sworn to protect above all. And now, in the present, the price of that weakness was almost unbearable.

The days since the ball had been torture. She avoided him with an almost supernatural skill, and he couldn’t blame her for that. All he knew about her came from the servants, who neutrally mentioned the places she was or the hours she spent with Natasha. He didn’t see her, and it was killing him.

That morning, while holding his daughter in his arms, Alexei felt an almost suffocating despair. Natasha, with her silky hair and eyes so incredibly like his, was a reminder of everything he could lose. She nestled against his chest with unwavering trust, her small fingers clutching his collar as she murmured something about playing in the garden. He ran his fingers through her hair, trying to find some peace in that moment, but the guilt was overwhelming.

“How could I do this?” he whispered, more to himself than to anyone else. His wife’s face came to mind, not the hardened look from the ball, but the way she used to smile at him when she thought no one was watching. The memory was so painful it almost made him lose his balance.

His mother had warned him countless times, her words as sharp as they were precise. He still remembered her stern tone during a recent argument, one of the few moments when she had truly lost her patience with him.

“Anna is not for you, Alexei,” she had said, her eyes flashing with something bordering on disdain. “Your wife deserves more. Your daughter deserves more. And you... you should be ashamed.”

He had stormed out of that conversation furious, but now he understood the weight of her words. He was ashamed. Deeply. And the worst part was knowing that, no matter how hard he tried, there was no way to go back in time and undo the damage he had caused.

Natasha, sensing the tension in his body, lifted her face to look at him, and her innocent gaze completely disarmed him. She was so small, so confident that her father was the best man in the world. He felt a sharp pang of desperation as he realized that, if he continued like this, he might lose that too.

Alexei couldn’t take it anymore. The silence that once was an almost invisible wall between you two now felt like an impenetrable barrier. He saw the servants walking through the halls, casting furtive glances of pity and caution, bringing scarce news about you. “She’s still in the room, sir,” they would say. “She hasn’t eaten anything again today.” Every word was a stab, and that morning was no different. When the maid returned with the untouched tray, Alexei felt something inside him break.

Without a word, he took the tray from her hands and climbed the stairs, his heavy footsteps echoing through the house. The door to the room you used to share was closed, and for a moment, he hesitated. Since that night, he hadn’t crossed that threshold. He hadn’t dared. But now, he had no choice.

Pushing the door open, he found you sitting in front of the vanity, impeccable as always, but so different. The dress perfectly aligned, your hair styled with perfection. Not a strand out of place. But what hit him the most was the absence. The absence of color in your face. The absence of the sparkle in your eyes. And the absence of any trace of the love he used to feel, even without you needing to say it.

“You need to eat.” His voice came out harsher than he intended. He placed the tray on the small table next to the bed, watching you through the reflection in the mirror. “If you keep going like this, you’ll end up sick.”

You didn’t respond, your fingers busy with a small brooch pinning your collar. The silence that followed was suffocating, until your voice cut through the air like a blade: “Alexei, I want a divorce.”

“Please,” he said, his voice hoarse, almost inaudible at first. Then, stronger, more desperate. “Please, don’t do this. Don’t say that. No…”

You remained firm, your eyes fixed on him, but the trembling line of your lips betrayed the colossal effort you were making to keep your composure.

“Alexei…” your voice was low, almost a whisper, but the weight of what you said was like a direct blow. “I can’t anymore… I just can’t.”

“But you love me.” He said it like a prayer, as if repeating those words could undo everything that was happening. He stepped forward, his eyes pleading, shining with a desperation he could barely contain. “You said you loved me. You still love me.”

“I love you.” Your confession came quickly, but as harsh as a blade. “And you know that. But it wasn’t enough, Alexei. It was never enough.”

He fell to his knees in front of you, his chin trembling, his hands outstretched toward you as if begging for his very life. “Then what do I do?” He asked, his voice breaking. “Tell me what to do. Tell me how to fix this. I’ll do anything, anything you ask. But don’t ask me to let you go. Please, I can’t…”

You turned your gaze away, but he saw the tears threatening to spill, even as you held them back with all your might. “I don’t know if there’s anything to fix.” Your voice faltered, but you quickly regained composure, lifting your chin. “I don’t know who we are anymore, Alexei.”

“We are us.” He almost shouted, desperation taking over him. “We are us! No matter what happens, we are us. I can’t... I can’t imagine my life without you. Without Natasha. I can’t bear that.”

“And I can’t bear being with someone who destroyed me like this.” Your tone was firm, but the pain you felt was as evident as his. You saw him close his eyes tightly, as if trying to push away the weight of your words, but they had already lodged themselves in him like splinters.

"Please." He reached out again, this time gently holding your arm, his touch trembling, almost reverent. "Please, don't do this. Tell me what I need to do to fix this. Tell me... anything."

You finally looked at him, and his eyes were so full of desperation that for a moment, something inside you wavered. "I need time." Your voice broke, and you hated how much saying that hurt. "I need time, Alexei. I can't even think straight with you like this. With us like this."

He slowly shook his head, as if he didn’t want to accept it. "Time?" He asked, the word coming out like a sentence. "I can give you time, but... what if you decide you don’t want to come back to me? What if you decide that... it's over?"

You took a deep breath, the tears you were trying to hold back finally streaming silently down your face. "I don’t know, Alexei. I don’t know."

The room fell into unbearable silence, broken only by the uneven sound of his breathing and your stifled sobs. Finally, he stood up, his hands trembling, his eyes red. "I’ll wait." His declaration was low, but carried a firmness that seemed impossible given his state. "I’ll wait as long as it takes. But don’t give up on us."

You didn’t answer, unable to find the words. And as he left the room, the door closing softly behind him, you collapsed to the floor, feeling as if every part of you was falling apart.

In the days that followed, Alexei’s absence in the room was like a constant shadow, a gap you didn’t know how to fill. He had respected your decision for space, yes, but he wasn’t truly absent. It was impossible to ignore the small gestures that betrayed him: a tray of tea and biscuits appearing on your table, accompanied by a short but warm note. “At least this,” the latest one said, with slanted handwriting and a palpable care.

The servants didn’t comment, but you knew. You knew he asked about your meals, about your health, about anything that could ease the guilt he carried. He was present in a discreet way, almost invisible, but so tangible that you couldn’t shake the feeling that he was always near, still caring, still watching.

Alexei’s mother’s visit came without warning, on a gray morning, when the heavy clouds outside mirrored the weight you carried in your chest. The maid announced her presence, and you felt your stomach churn. Though there was respect between you two, Mrs. Vronskaya had always been an imposing figure, surrounded by a natural authority that seemed to demand reverence.

You hesitated before going downstairs to meet her, but you didn’t have the strength to refuse. Deep down, you knew this conversation was inevitable.

When you entered the room, Alexei’s mother was already there, sitting impeccably in one of the armchairs, her heavy coat carefully folded beside her. She raised her gaze as soon as you entered, and for a moment, something in her eyes seemed to soften.

“You’re so thin,” was the first thing she said, instead of a greeting, her tone direct but filled with concern.

“I’m fine,” you replied, your voice soft but firm.

“No, you’re not.” Her response was immediate, with no room for debate. She gestured for you to sit, and when you did, the silence that followed was as thick as the cold morning air.

Mrs. Vronskaya wasn’t a woman who minced words, and you knew she was there for a reason. Still, it was you who broke the silence. “Why are you here?”

“For you,” she said simply, her eyes fixed on yours. “And for Alexei.”

You clenched your hands in your lap, trying to maintain composure. “If you came to defend him, know that you don’t have to. He’s already done that on his own.”

His mother slightly tilted her head, as if weighing her words before responding. “I didn’t come to defend him. I came to listen to you. Do you think I don’t know what’s going on in this house? That I don’t see the pain in both of your eyes?”

The mention of pain stung like a sharp needle. You looked away, staring at the floor, but her voice continued, firm and soft. “I never supported Alexei’s involvement with Anna. I made that clear from the start. Not because she’s married, but because I knew something like this wouldn’t end well. My son has always had this weakness... this tendency to be captivated by the new, the different. It’s part of who he is. But I also know he’s a man who loves deeply. When he loves, he gives himself completely.”

You raised your eyes to her, and there was something there, a mixture of hope and desperation that you couldn’t hide. “And what guarantees me that this love will be enough?”

“I can’t guarantee,” she admitted, her words direct but without cruelty. “But I can say that, since you entered his life, Alexei has changed. He found balance in you. I saw it with my own eyes. And I know that, even with the mistakes he’s made, the love he feels for you is real. I know that you still love him.”

Your heart tightened, and for a moment, you almost wanted to deny it. But what would be the point? “Loving doesn’t seem like enough,” you murmured, more to yourself than to her.

“Maybe it’s not,” Alexei’s mother replied, leaning slightly forward, her hands resting on her knees. “But sometimes, love is what gives you the strength to find a way, even if it’s painful. I’m not here to ask you to forgive my son. I’m here to tell you that, whatever your decision is, you won’t be alone.”

The sincerity in her words hit you like an unexpected blow, and you felt your eyes burn. But no tear fell. “I don’t know if I can get over this. Sometimes, it feels like the distance between us is insurmountable.”

“The distance is great,” she agreed. “But you’re speaking as if he’s on the other side of an abyss. He’s not. Alexei is trying to reach you, even if awkwardly. Don’t you see that?”

You closed your eyes for a moment, trying to control the emotions threatening to overflow. “I see. But every gesture of his just reminds me of everything that’s been lost.”

Alexei’s mother nodded, her gaze softer than you’d ever seen. “That’s natural. But I also want you to know that you’re important to me. Not just as my son’s wife, but as the woman who made his life better. If you decide that you can’t continue, I’ll understand. And even then, you’ll still be part of my family. Always.”

Those words broke something inside you, but they also brought a small relief. You stood up, and she did the same, holding your hand firmly for a moment before letting it go.

“Thank you,” was all you could say.

“Take care of yourself,” she replied, her voice carrying an unexpected gentleness.

Later, as you walked down the hallway, you heard Natasha’s laughter echoing through the house. Peeking through the slightly open door, you saw Alexei sitting on the floor, holding the little one in his arms, her golden hair shining in the light coming through the window. Your chest tightened painfully. It was impossible to deny how much Natasha looked like her father — in her features, her smile, even in the way she seemed to light up the room.

You stayed there for a few seconds, watching. Alexei could hardly believe it when he lifted his eyes and saw you standing there, at the door, your gaze fixed on him and little Natasha. For a moment, he froze, as if any movement could shatter that fragile moment. The weight in your eyes hit him like a punch, and for a second, he wondered if he should call you, ask you to join them.

But before he could even open his mouth, you looked away and disappeared, leaving the door slightly ajar. The absence was an immediate emptiness, a cold that spread through him even with Natasha still nestled in his arms.

“Daddy?” The sweet, small voice of his daughter broke the silence. Natasha tilted her head to look at him, her golden curls falling over her forehead. “Who was there? Was it Mommy?”

Alexei swallowed hard, trying to hide the tightness in his chest. He adjusted Natasha in his arms, snuggling her close. “It was, my little one. But... Mommy had to go.”

“Doesn’t she want to play with us?” Natasha asked, her big, bright eyes searching for an explanation.

Alexei closed his eyes for a moment, trying to gather his strength. How could he explain something that he himself didn’t fully understand? How could he justify the choices that had led them to this point?

“It’s not that, sweetheart. Mommy is... tired. And sometimes, when we’re tired, we need some time to rest alone.”

Natasha furrowed her brow, clearly thinking about the answer. “But Mommy told me she loves us. She still loves you, doesn’t she?”

Those words, so simple and direct, pierced Alexei. He took a deep breath, feeling the weight of it all on his shoulders. “Yes,” he finally replied, his voice low and hoarse. “Mommy loves you very much. And I’m sure she still loves Daddy too.”

“Then why don’t you stay together? Grandma said that love makes everything better.”

He felt his stomach twist when he heard the mention of his mother. Her visit was still fresh in his mind, a reminder of how much he had failed — not just with you, but with himself. She hadn’t spared any words, and the silent disapproval in her gaze still burned in his memory.

“Because Daddy made a mistake,” Alexei finally said, choosing his words carefully. “And sometimes, even when you love someone, you need to show that you can get better before things get better.”

“Will you get better, Daddy?” Natasha asked, her little fingers touching his face as if she wanted to make sure he was paying attention.

“I will,” Alexei replied, his tone now firm. “I promise you, Natasha, that I will fix things. I’ll do everything I can to bring Mommy back to us.”

“Can I help?” Natasha smiled, as if the simple thought of being helpful could solve any problem.

Alexei chuckled softly, kissing her forehead. “Your help already means everything to me, little one. Just having you here with me gives me strength.”

He hugged her tighter, letting that moment between father and daughter carve itself into his memory. Meanwhile, behind the affection he shared with Natasha, Alexei felt the weight of a decision solidifying. He knew he couldn’t allow himself to fail again. He couldn’t disappoint you, or himself, or that little creature who looked at him with so much love and trust.

When Natasha finally got distracted with one of her toys, Alexei stayed there, silently watching her. His conversation with his mother echoed in his mind, every word heavy with meaning. He felt ashamed, crushed by the realization that he had ignored advice and gut feelings that could have prevented all this pain.

But the shame wasn’t enough to paralyze him. It was a flame, something he would use to fuel his determination. Alexei knew the road to you would be difficult, painful. But looking at Natasha, so much like you and so full of life, he found a new resolution.

He didn’t just want to fix things — he needed to. And he would do it, no matter how much time or effort it took.

The change didn’t happen all at once, but it was like spring after a long winter. Alexei didn’t let a single day pass without trying, without showing how much he was willing to repair the mistakes that had brought so much pain.

He started with simple gestures. A fresh rose picked from the garden, carefully placed in your room. He would stop in front of closed doors, hesitating, but not knocking, respecting the space you had asked for, yet unable to stop leaving something, no matter how small, to let you know he was there.

Over time, he began to include Natasha in his attempts, inviting both of you to join him for a walk in the garden or for a special snack. And although you still didn’t join him, he noticed that the coldness from before was fading, replaced by something more neutral. More human.

The maids would mention that you were starting to eat normally again, that the pallor that marked your face had begun to give way to its natural color. Alexei saw this too, in brief glimpses — a soft curve at the corner of your lips when Natasha said something funny, a distant look, but less painful, when you thought no one was watching.

And then, that night, fate brought the opportunity he had been waiting for.

The storm had started earlier, with thunder echoing in the distance and gusts of wind blowing through the windows. Alexei was in the living room when he heard the door open, and before he even turned around, he knew it was you.

You entered the hall, your hair drenched and stuck to your face, the dress weighed down with water. He immediately got up, his heart racing at the sight of you like that.

"My God, you're completely soaked." His voice was low but full of urgency as he approached. You hesitated for a moment, as if considering pulling back, but eventually allowed him to come closer.

Alexei grabbed a wool shawl from a nearby chair and gently wrapped it around your shoulders. "Come. Let’s get these clothes off before you get sick."

His tone was practical, almost automatic, but there was something in his movements — the way his fingers trembled slightly as he adjusted the fabric over you, the care he took to avoid looking directly into your eyes — that betrayed the depth of his feelings.

You followed him to the bedroom, your steps light and almost silent on the carpet. The tension was palpable, an almost visible thread between you both. He gestured for you to sit in the chair near the fireplace. You did, your eyes fixed on the flames as he moved around the room, grabbing clean towels.

Without saying a word, he knelt before you, gently removing the pins that held your hair with firm, yet tender fingers. Each pin made a soft metallic sound as it fell onto the towel he had spread across his lap. You didn’t pull away.

Alexei then stood up, hesitating for a moment before reaching for the ties on your dress. He paused, looking at you for permission. You nodded slightly, enough for him to continue.

The knots loosened slowly, and the sound of the wet fabric coming undone seemed to fill the room. He helped you stand and wrapped a dry robe around your shoulders before stepping back, giving you space to sit again.

When he finally spoke, his voice was almost a whisper. "I’m so sorry."

You lifted your eyes to him, something shining there that he couldn’t decipher. “What about her?”

Alexei froze. For a moment, it seemed as if all the air had been sucked out of the room. “Anna?”

You nodded, your expression still unshaken, but the tension in your shoulders betrayed the effort you were making to stay strong.

“It was nothing,” he said finally, his eyes searching yours as if he wanted to beg you to believe him. “Nothing that justified... nothing that was worth this.”

“And why?” Your voice was soft, but cutting, like a blade piercing straight through his heart. “Why her? What did she have that I didn’t?”

Alexei ran a hand through his hair, clearly distressed. “I don’t know. She was... different. Something new, something I had never known. But it wasn’t love, it wasn’t... you.” He knelt in front of you again, his hands gripping yours tightly, but without hurting you. “Nothing ever came close to you. I was a fool for letting this come so close.”

You looked at him, your face still unreadable, but your eyes starting to shine. “What if I had stayed away longer? What if it were someone else, Alexei? How can I trust that this won’t happen again?”

Alexei remained kneeling in front of you, his eyes glowing with a desperation that seemed to suck the air out of the room. He didn’t move, neither closer nor farther, as if even the slightest shift could break the fragile connection that still existed between you.

“You are everything to me,” he repeated, his voice heavy with raw vulnerability. “But I know that just saying that isn’t enough. I know I can’t erase what I did, the pain I caused.”

You didn’t answer immediately. Your mind was in turmoil, each of his words crashing against the walls of your own pain, echoing. Finally, almost in a whisper, you asked, “Did you... did you two ever...”

Your voice faltered before you could finish the sentence, but the meaning was clear. Alexei’s eyes widened, as if the question had cut deeper than anything else. He shook his head quickly, almost frantic.

“No,” he said firmly, his voice a little louder, but still choked. “Never. I never did that. I never even kissed her.” He swallowed hard, lowering his gaze for a moment before meeting your eyes again. “I was a fool, a complete idiot for letting her occupy so much space in my head, but it wasn’t... physical. It wasn’t love. It was... it was a weakness of mine, a fascination with something I didn’t even know I was seeking. And I hate myself for it. I hate myself for hurting you this way.”

You felt the weight of every word, the warmth of his sincerity reaching something deep within you, but the pain was still there, alive and pulsing.

Alexei leaned in slightly, his hands still holding yours, but loosely, as if preparing for the inevitable moment when you would pull away. “I’d give anything to go back in time, to make the right choices from the start. To never have allowed anything to come between us. But all I can do now is this. Ask, beg for a chance to be better for you.”

His eyes shone, tears threatening to fall, but he didn’t look away, as if he couldn’t allow himself to hide anything from you. When he finally moved, it was to wrap his arms around your waist, a hesitant, almost fearful gesture.

“Please,” he whispered against the fabric of the robe you were wearing. “Please, tell me there’s still something in your heart that will let me fix this.”

You stood still, your body rigid as if you were trying to decide what to do. He didn’t dare move any further, his face hidden against you, breathing deeply as if it were the last time he could do so.

And then, almost imperceptibly, you raised your hand, your fingers hesitantly touching his hair. It was a small gesture, but to Alexei, it felt as though the whole world had stopped. He lifted his face, surprised, but didn’t say anything.

Your fingers threaded through his blonde hair, the touch soft, but steady, and something in him gave way. He closed his eyes, resting his forehead against your stomach as he let out a sigh that sounded almost like a sob.

“I don’t know what to do,” you admitted, your voice low but filled with emotion. “I don’t know how to get past this, Alexei. But... I can’t stop loving you.”

He lifted his gaze to you, his eyes misty, but with a spark of hope. “I don’t need you to know right now,” he said, his voice trembling. “I just need you to let me try. Let me prove that I will never disappoint you again.”

The silence that followed was thick, but not empty. It was full of all the unspoken things, all the emotions that still needed room to exist between you.

Finally, you nodded slightly, the gesture almost imperceptible, but enough for him to understand. He didn’t smile, as if he knew there was still no room for joy, but the tension in his shoulders eased, and he held you more firmly in his arms without hurting you.

“Thank you,” he murmured, so softly that you almost didn’t hear it, but the weight of that word hung in the air between you, carrying all the love, regret, and promise he had to offer.

The night was calm, wrapped in a stillness broken only by the soft sound of rain against the windows. You were in Natasha’s room, the little one’s hair illuminated by the warm light of the lamp. She was lying on the bed, hugging the battered teddy bear she insisted on carrying everywhere.

“Now close your eyes, my love,” you said, your voice low and gentle as you adjusted the blanket around her small body. “It’s time to sleep.”

“Will you sing for me?” she asked, her eyes, identical to Alexei’s, shining with expectation.

You smiled, a small but genuine smile, as you began to hum a melody your mother used to sing to you. Her little hand held yours, as if that gesture were essential to the moment.

The door creaked softly as it opened, and Alexei stopped in the doorway, his tall figure illuminated by the hallway light. He hesitated when he saw her there, his eyes resting on the scene with an expression of tenderness so raw that it seemed to contradict the strength of his presence.

For a moment, he considered turning back, letting that moment belong only to the two of you. But then Natasha turned her head, her sleep-messy hair spreading across the pillow.

“Daddy,” she called, a sleepy smile lighting up her face. “Are you going to put me to sleep too?”

Her request was an unexpected bridge between the two of you. Alexei looked at you, a silent question in his clear eyes, the same ones Natasha had inherited. There was something so vulnerable in his gaze that the air seemed to grow a little heavier.

You nodded almost imperceptibly, making space beside the bed. He stepped into the room, each movement carrying a rare hesitation from him. When he approached, Natasha reached out her arms, and he leaned in to kiss her forehead before sitting beside the bed, opposite you.

“Now we’re all here,” she said, content, holding both of your hands.

“Does that mean you’re going to sleep for real now?” Alexei asked, his tone soft but tinged with amusement.

She shook her head, a mischievous smile appearing. “But I like when you’re both here with me. Daddy, mommy...”

The sound of that word hit him like a sweet blow. Mommy. It was simple, but hearing it from his daughter’s lips, in the context of that intimate scene, felt like a reminder of everything he was trying to protect.

Natasha shifted between you, her eyes slowly closing as she mumbled random words about the day. “I want a brother,” she murmured suddenly, her eyes blinking lazily before closing again.

Alexei let out a soft laugh, surprised, and looked at you. “A brother, huh?”

“Yes,” Natasha answered with a yawn, her eyes already closed. “To play with me.”

You and Alexei exchanged a glance, his expression softening in a way that rarely happened. When she finally fell asleep, her breath light and steady, he carefully adjusted her in the bed, leaving a kiss on the top of her head before standing up.

He moved closer to you, extending his hand to help you rise. You accepted, and he didn’t immediately release your hand, holding it between his as if afraid that the moment might slip away.

“She’s just like you,” you commented, your voice low as you looked at Natasha.

“No,” he replied, his eyes fixed on the small, sleeping face. “She’s the best of both of us.”

There was a comfortable silence between you, the usual tension replaced by something softer, more hopeful. He looked at you, his clear eyes carrying a tenderness that seemed almost shy.

“About what she said…” he started, hesitating for a moment.

“Alexei,” you interrupted, your tone almost exasperated but with a small smile.

“I know, I know,” he said, raising his hands in surrender, but his smile was back, something rare and so genuine that it made your heart ache.

The door to Natasha’s room closed softly, muffling the sound of her calm breathing. You and Alexei stayed in the hallway for a moment, as if the moment required silence, a reverence for the scene you had just shared. He seemed to hesitate, his hands sliding into the pockets of his suit jacket, a nervous gesture you knew well.

“She’s always known how to disarm us,” you commented, breaking the silence, your voice low but full of tenderness.

He looked at you, the corners of his lips curving into a nearly shy smile. “It’s an innate talent. I don’t think she got that from me.”

“Maybe from me, then,” you replied, your tone playful, something he hadn’t heard in a long time.

His smile widened, but there was something deeper in his eyes, something that kept him quiet for too long. You were about to ask what he was thinking when he turned slightly, his body leaning as though about to leave.

“Alexei.”

He stopped immediately, turning to face you again. You took a deep breath, gathering the words you wanted to say.

“You don’t have to go back to the other room,” you said, your voice soft but carrying something more. “If you want... you can come back to our room.”

The words came out before you could reconsider, and for a moment, the silence in the hallway seemed absolute. Alexei blinked, disbelief written on his face, as if he wasn’t sure he’d heard you correctly.

“Is that what you want?” he asked, his voice so low it was barely a whisper.

You looked at him for a moment, your eyes searching his, which seemed to scan every nuance of your expression. “It’s a step, Alexei,” you replied, sincere. “I think we’re ready to take a step.”

He let out a breath that seemed to have been held for a long time, his shoulders relaxing a bit. “I...” He stopped, shaking his head as if the words were too difficult.

“And besides,” you continued, your voice light but carrying something almost mischievous, “if we really want to give Natasha a sibling, I think it makes more sense for us to be in the same room, don’t you think?”

His eyes widened, surprised, and for a moment, he stood completely still, as if the words had been a shock he hadn’t expected.

“You...” He started but didn’t finish, his gaze fixed on your face as if trying to process the subtle, but significant change.

You raised an eyebrow, the playful look returning to your expression, something he immediately recognized. “It’s just a practical matter,” you finished, your voice slightly provocative.

He stepped forward, the hesitation giving way to something more determined, his gaze intense and fixed on yours. “Practical,” he repeated, as if testing the word.

The air around you seemed to carry a familiar tension, something that had always been there but now felt more tangible, more urgent. You saw the shadow of a smile play at the corners of his lips, and you couldn’t resist.

“You’re taking this very seriously, Alexei,” you teased, your voice lower now, only to be interrupted.

He leaned in, his lips meeting yours with an intensity that made your heart race. The kiss was both tender and desperate, as if he were pouring everything he couldn’t say into words. Your hands went to his shoulders, a gesture to steady yourself, but instead of pushing him away, you pulled him closer, allowing yourself to finally give in to the moment.

When you pulled apart, your breaths were shallow, and Alexei kept his forehead pressed to yours. “You have no idea how long I’ve waited for this,” he murmured, his voice hoarse, full of emotion.

The night seemed silent, the kind of silence that embraced the house like a heavy blanket, protecting the sounds that belonged only to that space. The room you once shared was almost exactly as before, but something felt different now. It was the same space, but it carried the weight of everything you had lived through—and survived.

Alexei was sitting at the edge of the bed, his elbows resting on his knees, watching you as you took off your robe and prepared to lie down. His gaze was intense, but not unsettling. It was a gaze of reverence, as if he couldn’t believe he was here again.

“It’s strange, isn’t it?” you asked, breaking the silence, your voice soft but full of emotion.

He looked up at you, a small smile appearing on his lips. “Strange... and familiar at the same time.”

You moved closer slowly, feeling the warmth radiating from him even before you sat down beside him. For a moment, you stayed there, side by side, your hands almost touching. The small space between you seemed heavy, but also filled with something new—hope.

“I thought about this so much,” he murmured, turning slightly to face you. “About what it would be like... having you here again. Being with you like this.”

“And how is it?” you asked, your playful tone trying to mask the vulnerability behind the question.

He chuckled softly, but there was a gleam in his eyes, something deeply sincere. “It’s better than I allowed myself to imagine.”

You felt your heart tighten, but it was a different kind of tightness now, something less painful and closer to healing. You reached out to him, your fingers touching his gently. He intertwined his fingers with yours, the gesture so familiar it brought tears to your eyes.

“Alexei...” you started, but he interrupted you, his eyes fixed on yours.

“I know,” he said, his voice soft but firm. “I know it will take time. That this is just the beginning. But please, tell me there’s a beginning.”

You nodded, feeling your throat tighten with emotion. “There’s a beginning,” you replied, your voice almost a whisper.

He leaned forward, his forehead touching yours, and the world seemed to shrink to that moment, to that touch. “I won’t fail you again,” he promised, his voice heavy with something so deep that it made your eyes well up with tears.

“I know,” you said, the sincerity of your voice making him close his eyes for a moment, as if he were absorbing it.

You both moved together to lie down, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. When Alexei pulled the covers over you, he did it with the same care as always, as if every small gesture had meaning. You curled up next to him, his body fitting to yours as if it had never stopped being like that.

He ran his fingers through your hair, untangling the strands that had come loose throughout the day, the movements slow and almost reverent. “I feel like I’m holding a piece of the future in my hands,” he murmured, almost to himself.

“And what do you see in that future, Alexei?” you asked, lifting your gaze to meet his.

He smiled, the kind of smile that made your heart tighten with both longing and hope at the same time. “I see us. Natasha... maybe a little brother for her, if you still want,” he added, his tone lightly teasing, but his eyes shining with tenderness.

You laughed, a light and almost new sound. “Maybe,” you replied, teasing. “But one step at a time, right?”

He leaned in, his lips brushing your forehead in a gesture that seemed to carry all the promises in the world. “Right,” he agreed, his voice soft and full of emotion.

Silence fell again, but it was a different silence now. It was a silence of peace, of new beginnings. And as you curled even closer, your hearts beating in a slow, synchronized rhythm, you knew you were finally finding your way back to each other.

[imaginethatneathuhpartdos]

Aw, this is so sweet.

Murtagh Realizing You're Not Doing Well & Taking Care of You Headcanons

Murtagh is a very attentive, observant person and clocks that something is off with you immediately. Of course he worries, but also doesn’t want to pry or make you feel smothered, so just silently observes you for a while.

When it’s clear this is more than just a bad day, he starts keeping a more watchful eye on you, doing little things silently here and there to make your life easier. Any chores you were dreading are already done by the time you arrive, any items you need are suddenly waiting on your bed, little trinkets and your favorite foods are appearing here and there, etc.

He starts checking in with you to make sure you’re eating, drinking, and sleeping enough while gently reminding you that you’ve more than earned time to rest. If there are any tasks that are stressing you out, he offers to help or even take care of them for you with no hesitation.

Eventually, when things don’t improve and it’s clear you’re pushing yourself past your limits, he sits the two of you down and opens up about he felt after the battle in the throne room. How exhausted, angry, burned out, and completely drained both he and Thorn were and how it would’ve ended very badly for everyone involved if he didn’t take a break—all this to say, he doesn’t want to see you push yourself so hard that you lose yourself in the process and thinks a break might be a good idea, and why don’t you let him talk to Eragon about it on your behalf?

Eragon of course understands and tells you to take as much time as you need. You’re welcome to continue hanging around the academy without worrying about tasks or to take a trip elsewhere. If you feel you need to get away, Murtagh offers to show you all the cool places he found in his travels with Thorn.

If you opt to stay around the academy, Murtagh says his out of the way cottage is open to you whenever, and he even makes sure his spare bedroom is always prepared if you’re not together yet (or if your relationship is still new). If you are, of course you’re welcome in his room. He gets you all the things you need to relax, saying his book collection is all open to you, and takes care of everything—including cooking you meals that have all the nutrients you need to heal and loves making you tea.

If you need some time away and agree to accompany Murtagh and Thorn on a trip, he’s ecstatic to show you all his favorite places he found. He somehow even makes camping out in the open by the fire relaxing and secretly enjoys having you all to himself.

He seeks Eragon’s help out in learning meditation strategies, breathing techniques, and ways to cope and heal that he learned from the elves. As he’s teaching them to you, it inspires him to take better care of himself as well and it becomes a tradition for the two of you to do many of these things together.

He’s constantly bringing you little gifts, such as flowers he found in a field, your favorite snacks, or even hand-making you little wooden carvings. If he really wants to impress you, he acquires the elves’ help to learn how to make jewelry. The designs are always simple, but you can feel the love and care he put into them and never take them off.

Of course, night flights on Thorn with him are a must (or flying together on your own dragon, if you’re a Rider), usually followed by landing in an out of the way, remote location to just chat, stargaze (he loves astronomy and is pointing out all the constellations to you), snuggle, etc.

He becomes a bit more touchy feely during this time, regardless of where you are in your relationship. If you’re not together yet, they’re very shy, gentle touches to your arm, back, hand, etc. here and there. If it’s early, the touches are a little more frequent and he’s not as afraid to do things like smooth your hair, kiss your knuckles, or pull you into a hug. If you’ve been together for a while, he’s practically attached to you at all times, holding your hand, holding you against him, all the random kisses, lifting you off the ground when he hugs you, etc.

He’ll do whatever it takes to make you feel better, is constantly trying to make you laugh and smile, and always reminding you about how much better his life is with you in it.

[imaginethatneathuhpartdos]

George 'Digger' Harkness aka Captain Boomerang fics by @sserpente

Literally, an entire Google doc she made for the man. Gotta love it.

https://docs.google.com/document/d/1AqJw_Y5G3JjQ4CM9-IA6L4JhkZWzqslkhuuqNijJRNA/edit?tab=t.0

[imaginethatneathuhpartdos]

So cute.

Hey Mac! I was wondering for an ask if you could do where the BoB men would take someone on a first date? Thank you!

Where Easy co. would take you on a first date!

a/n: Of course sweet friend! I’m sorry this took so long but as you know, life has been 🫠, but i hope you enjoy! ❤️

genre: Romance/comedy

warnings: cursing?(maybe idk i forgot); my brutal honest opinion

description: Where the men of easy company would take you for a first date and why!

taglist: @executethyself35 @linhkhanhcps @1waveshortofashipwreck @grumpy-liebgott @barbeygirl @samwinchesterslostshoe @ronsenthal @sweetxvanixlla @mstiemountainhop @imaginethatneathuh @goodluckbabeheffron @resting-distressed-face @bossboudicca (If you want to be on this list, let me know!! :))

BoB masterlist

Dick Winters: He's a simple man, might I add also a very romantic man. I think he would go for a classic candlelight dinner. Probably to some fancy Italian restaurant with amazing alfredo. He would pick you up, or meet you but either way he’s showing up with red roses. During the meal he’d be down for some nice conversation and overall he’s very charming. After dinner he’s paying and tipping the waiter generously.

Lewis Nixon: A sophisticated man like himself who occasionally enjoys history is definitely taking you to a museum for your first date. Thankfully he would pay for the both of you. I think it would go pretty well overall. Only somewhat bad thing about the whole date is the fact that he would talk so much about himself and interrupt. I don’t think he would do it on purpose, he really just loves talking any chance he gets lmao.

Carwood Lipton: He’s probably going to take you out to eat for your first date. Instead of a dinner date though, I see him taking you to a really cute cafe for brunch or something like that. He would be so polite the entire time, using his manners and being attentive to you. He’s kind of the opposite of Nix, instead of talking about himself, he can’t stop asking you questions and getting to know you more. “I didn’t know if you were allergic so I decided not to get you some, but I would love to give you a bouquet next time we meet.

Joe Toye: I feel like he’d be the type of guy to invite you to a bar on the first date. Not exactly like a bar but a nice seclusive brewery that isn't super overwhelming to get to, so I guess a pub? He's a fan of getting a couple drinks, relaxing, and talking about whatever is going on at the moment. He’s paying for all the drinks you get. Did I also mention that he’s so damn charismatic during the entire time? Afterward he would be more than welcome to walking or driving you home.

Joe Liebgott: This hottie would probably try to pick a nice dinner restaurant to eat at for your first date but then settle for something a bit more simple, like an ice cream date. You guys could sit, relax, and chit chat while enjoying a nice scoop of goodness (Sounds like an amazing date tbh.) He would of course pay for your ice cream and even take you out to another cool place afterwards (aka his room) if the date goes well.

Bill Guarnere: I feel like he’d definitely be the one to take you out to a nightclub on the first date. He’s all about having fun, and having fun with you, so why not go out and dance while getting to know eachother better? You definitely have to stop him a couple times for trying to grab your ass while dancing. You guys would have good conversation and fun and he’d definitely ask you to come to his place after.

George Luz: George would totally take you to an arcade on your first date together. I feel like that perfectly gives off his vibe. Fun and playful while still getting to know each other better. I'm not getting a Dave and Busters kinda vibe but maybe a cute place downtown that has fun games. (notice how you guys would probably be the only two adults there lol) Ughh it would be totally perfect. (George is so “Boyfriend” yk?) He would of course pay and afterwards maybe a cute kiss?

Moe Alley: I think he would invite you somewhere pretty random for a first date. Maybe wine tasting? It's giving middle aged mom but trust me it would be a total vibe lmao. Both of you would probably be a little tipsy afterwards (Ugh imagine flustered and tipsy Moe) and need an uber home. If he really liked the date I feel like he’d be the type to text you non stop until you guys go out for another date lmao.

Eugene Roe: I fear we’re going to find a common theme here. As much as I love Roe, I think he would settle for a nice dinner date like a good bit of the others. He would probably take you out to a steakhouse with really pretty decor. He would be such a cute gentleman the entire time. A little shy at first but he warms up to you as the night goes on. He's one of those guys that doesn’t want to make it awkward so he tries not to keep too quiet. (Also he would tip the waiter a lot which is a plus.)

Bull Randleman: Okay here me out: An at home dinner prepared by him. I know it’s kinda giving serial killer vibes when a man invites you to his house on a first date but lets go ahead and assume that you two already know each other pretty well beforehand. He gives such a homey vibe I feel like it would be out of his character to go out and spend a 100 dollars on a dinner that he “has all at home” But don’t worry because he can cook a pretty good steak.

Floyd Talbert: I think the first date with Tab HAS to be mini golf. The cute banter between you two while he’s slighting winning, the fake pouting once you take the lead. The flirting between holes and casual chit-chat while playing, he’s the perfect guy for a date like this. He’s so charismatic it's kind of hard not to fall for him after the first date. “We should come back here next week, then you might actually be able to beat me then, sweets.”

Skip Muck: To me I feel like he would want to take you somewhere a little seclusive where both of you can just relax and enjoy yourselves without there being crowds of people there. I could definitely see you and him going to a nice comedy show in town that has some nice drinks and food. It would be so fun for a little date night. Maybe afterwards you guys could stop by an ice cream shop and get some dessert?

Don Malarkey: I think like some of the other guys he would take you out to eat for a first date, but instead out to dinner maybe a lunch date at a diner? One with hamburgers and milkshakes that are to die for. There’s definitely a moment within the date where he’s trying to chug his milkshake and ends up getting a horrible brain freeze lol. Afterwards he would take you to a sweet drive-in movie theater to watch a classic movie. (He’s just the sweetest)

Babe Heffron: This first date has to be at an amusement park of some sort. I mean an amusement park kinda sums up his personality as a whole . Fun, wild, and if you’re there just know you’re having a good time 9 times out of 10. He would dare to go on all of the scariest rides with him. (Cue to him screaming at the top of his lungs right next to your ear. ) He definitely gets a stomach ache from eating all the junk at the park. By the end of the date he's making you take super cute pics in a photobooth

Shifty Powers: I’m really thinking that he would love to take you on a super duper cute picnic! He would set up a picnic table at the park and you guys could hangout there once the weather is nice during the day. He’s such a gentleman the entire time, it's certain that you guys are gonna have an amazing date together. Also his attempt at making a bunch of homemade foods is actually really good, I have a feeling he’s secretly an amazing cook!

Frank Perconte: He’s just gotta take you to a drive-in movie. He knows it won’t be too awkward because the movie will be playing, and if you guys run out of things to talk about then you guys could just focus on the movie. (Major overthinker here) he’s definitely one of those guys who sit there and stare at you intensely while you watch the movie and you can just feel his gaze on you lmao. “I had a fun time tonight, maybe we can go get dinner sometime again next week?”

Ronald Speirs: Again, (like a lot of the other guys) I'm sensing that he would take you on an amazing dinner date. He would probably take you to one of those fancy hibachi restaurants that make volcanoes out of onions and whatnot. I think he would be such a charming person you can’t tell if he’s going to be the love of your life or make you wish you were never born. He’s the type to pull up to the date with one singular rose to impress you lmao.

Johnny Martin: This old head is taking you bowling. (arguably one of the worst date options in my opinion) It’s a little awkward at first, just because the walking back from it being your turn and seeing him staring at you is so funny lmao. Also i can’t forget to mention the fact that he’s oddly super good at bowling?? I mean this man is practically getting a strike every time. “Maybe we should play again sometime, unless you don’t wanna get beat again.”

Chuck Grant: Okay here me out, this guy loves cars and motorcycles and just driving in general, so what would be better than a first date then go-kart racing?? It would be really fun and not too awkward for a first date. Maybe afterwards he could take you to a burger joint where you guys could get to know each other a bit better. But go-karting would originally take the awkwardness out of the first date.

Skinny Sisk : Axe throwing!! He wants to put your skills to the test (and his) with some fun knife throwing (i can’t tell if imagining him throwing an axe is hot or scary. ) Hopefully with a place that also serves food and drinks as well! The entire time he would try to make you laugh with a bunch of corny jokes of his (you can tell off the bat he’s kind of a terrible flirt lol) Afterwards he’d take you home and maybe finish the night off with a kiss?

David Webster: Knowing this guy, of course he just has to take you to an art gallery. He would sit there and try telling you all about some of the art pieces up for show. And after he would take you somewhere that has some really good tasting wine. I think the date would be very lax but also interesting. The more you talk to him all you can think is, “What else has this guy been through?” (I think he’s the type to trauma dump on the first date but can’t hate bc relatable tbh)

Buck Compton: I’m not trying to stereotype but I REALLY would want him to take you to a baseball game for a first date. He would be so excited to tell you all about the sport, he also desperately tries to catch a ball for you to take home. He probably buys you guys a ton of junk to snack on throughout the game and is so easy to talk to while the game is going on. “I know they lost but, wanna try and go out again sometime next weekend?”

Thank you all for reading so much! If you enjoyed, please help a writer out and like or reblog!! 🩷💖💕💝

[imaginethatneathuhpartdos]

someone I follow on the bird app just announced they’re starting a very exclusive private fic server because they and a bunch of other people want to talk about how much they love the fics they’re reading, and as an author can I just say that a really great place to talk about a fic you love is in the comments for that fic

I understand that people are trying to create safe spaces, but as the number of comments that I get on my fics dwindles with each passing year, knowing these spaces exist where my fics are being discussed, places that I am excluded from, makes me want to write fic LESS

I mean I guess who cares, right, because if I stop writing, there’s 10,000 other people that will continue…but if you participate in a fic “book club” server and you say nice things there about a fic you loved, maybe copy and paste that into a comment on AO3?

the only thing fanfic writers are asking for in return for hours of hard work is attention. please don’t rob us of the one thing that we hope for when we hit “post”

[imaginethatneathuhpartdos]

I find the whole scenario pretty funny. I liked Toye's and Guarnere's a lot.

Hey love your bob stuff! Inspired by something I’m fiddling with, can I request how the boys would react to their s/o’s being time travelers? Like from our era and they somehow ended up in the 1940s? They’ve fallen in love by this point or have a really big crush, but then they find out that their love is from, like 80 or so years in the future. They’re a little or let’s be honest, a lot freaked out and have a million questions. They love their s/o’s and stay with them, but the s/o is technically much younger than they are. Just thought of something wacky. Thanks!

a/n: yes thank you for requesting! I hope you enjoy 🧡

Easy co. reacting to their s/o being from the future!

genre: romance, comedy (sci-fi?)

warnings: cursing

description: the men of easy co, reacting to you being from present day.

taglist: @executethyself35 @linhkhanhcps @1waveshortofashipwreck @grumpy-liebgott @barbeygirl @samwinchesterslostshoe @ronsenthal @sweetxvanixlla @mstiemountainhop @imaginethatneathuh @goodluckbabeheffron @resting-distressed-face @bossboudicca (If you want to be on this list, let me know!! :))

BoB masterlist

Dick Winters: He doesn’t believe you for a second. You would probably have to give him some piece of concrete evidence to show him that you are in fact, from the future. Once he is certain that you have time traveled from the future, he gets really stressed (Mental breakdown incoming) The first thing he’s going to be thinking of is how to get you back home to your time safely. He would hate the idea of you leaving him for good, but he knows you deserve to be in your time, not in his. I don’t think he would be too curious about what the future is like, mostly because he likes to stay in the moment as much as possible. I think the older he is to you, the more protective he feels. He doesn’t really see it as an age difference though because you guys are around the same age when you guys meet?

Lewis Nixon: He is very confused.. Like Dick, His logical brain cannot wrap around the fact that you came from the future, 80 years ahead of 1944. Once you do finally convince him that you are a time traveler, he starts fearing the worst: When will you leave him to go back home? “If you aren’t from here, that means you have to go back at some point, right?” He sounds pitiful until you tell him that there isn’t anything to worry about because you aren’t leaving. He does have a few questions. Some about his future self and then just society itself. If you guys met during the war he’d definitely want to know all about the outcome of that too. About the age difference, I think he’d more get a kick out of it then feel weirded out by it, as long as you’re somewhat around his age he doesn’t care.

Carwood Lipton : This man feels SO guilty for no reason. He’s so patient and kind to you whenever you’re having a hard time adjusting to the time period and society norms. “Is it selfish to say that I don’t want you to leave?” He’s sure that you must miss your family, friends, or even just life how it is nowadays. He wouldn’t really ask you a whole lot of questions, it’s more of mostly asking you for stories of your life before you left that time period. The more he’d ask, he would try to get an idea on what life might have been there, If you ever get homesick he’ll try his best making you feel comfortable as possible, For the age difference, I won’t lie, it weighed on his conscious for a good minute, just because he actually is a whole life older than you, also the fact that you technically haven't even been born yet. As long as you aren’t super younger than him once you get to the 40s, he wouldn’t care that much.

Joe Toye : For the longest time he really thinks you're just trying to mess with him. Like the others, once you do give Joe some concrete evidence to show that you are from the future, he feels so confused. I think he would ask you a good bit of questions like, “How did you get here?” or “Why’d you pick the forties?” I think he would also ask a good bit of questions about the future and what it's like there “So how'd this whole war thing turnout? We win right?” He thinks the whole thing is crazy but he loves you too much to care. “Maybe you could take me to the future with you one day.” This guy loves you so much he would drop everything in his time to be with you in yours. For the age difference I don't think he would feel too weirded out. He would find it kind of funny though.

Joe Liebgott: “You’re joking right?” He almost flips his shit when he figures out you aren’t from the forties. “So how the hell did you get here?” You've got him questioning everything now. If time travel is real, so are extraterrestrials and other habitable planets. “So be real with me, Does earth get taken over by robots? Is this why you came here instead?” (if you can tell this guy is a sci-fi baddie) He gets worried for a second that you will have to leave him eventually, he gets so in his head about it that you have to remind him that you aren’t going anywhere. “So you’re from the future, what year were you born then?” Once you tell him this man is SHOCKED. “What a panther, you know I could be your grandpa right?” Even then he’s still gonna be with you so don’t worry.

Bill Guarnere: “What the fuck are you talking about?” He thinks either two things: One you're drunk, or two you've lost your damn mind. “Honey why don’t you just lay down for a minute, I think you’re pretty tired.” You would wait until the next morning to continue the conversation, trying not to freak him out. Once you’re awake the first thing he says to you is, “Doll you were really drunk last night. You were talking about being from the future!” Let's just say he has a hard time adjusting to the whole “from the future” thing. I think he would ask a few questions, how you got here and how different things are there but doesnt wanna know too much. Knowing him, I don’t think he would really care about the age difference, you’re here with him now so why’s it matter?

George Luz: “Oh honey you’re getting good with the pranks now are ya?” He cannot comprehend the fact that you’re from the future. Once he does start believing you he immediately starts thinking of the worst. “ So if you’re from the future, that means you have to go back at some point right?” *Cue the sad puppy dog eyes* You’re gonna have to remind this guy that you aren’t leaving MULTIPLE times. “So how’s it like over there, you guys drive on air or somethin’?” It would be best to not tell this guy too much about this future because he might just try to take Steve jobs spot on the creation of the iphone. He’s going to constantly tease you about the age difference. “So you like older guys huh? Well you’re in luck” He also loves bringing up the fact that he is technically old enough to be your great grandpa.

Moe Alley: I think he would be the easiest to convince on this kinda thing. What he can’t understand is why you would pick the forties out of all places. “So you just decided you’d want to come back in time during the biggest war the world has seen? I’m starting to question your judgment doll.” Once you tell him that you aren’t going anywhere and hope to stay with him in that time period, he starts getting worried for you. “Won’t you miss your family? I can’t be that special hon.” Like lip, I think he would ask you a lot of questions about your loved ones or what you miss most about your life 80 years in the future. “If you ever wanna go home, just know I wouldn’t be mad at you for it, not for a second.” He doesn’t find the age difference too odd but he would remind you, “If you ever go back, look for me, yeah?”

Eugene Roe: “C’mon now you know that stuff aint real cherie.” He can’t believe it for the longest time. He doesn’t logically or spiritually understand it. Eventually when he's certain that you are from the future, he’s waiting whenever you will have to leave. He can’t bear the thought of watching you go so I think he’d give you the cold shoulder until you reassure him that you aren’t going anywhere. “So did something bad happen there, is that why you left?” He’s very patient with you and is always willing to learn more about how you got here and your adjustments to the time change. He’s a total sweetheart. I could see him trying to find your biological family during the time period so that you could at least have family that you might or might not know there.

Bull Randleman: At first when you tell him he kinda just laughs it off, thinking you’re trying to joke around with him. It’s gonna take a lot of convincing for him to truly believe that you are from the future. “If you’re from the future, why would you decide to come here of all places?” He might have a couple questions about what the futures like, but I think most of his questions would be about the outcome of the war or what the next couple years into the future might look like for him. As long as you’re happy with him in that time period, that’s all that matters to him. The only thing is that he wishes you were able to go back some and see your loved ones occasionally. A part of him feels guilty because he knows that he’s the only thing keeping you in the forties. When he thinks about the age difference, he kinda thinks it’s weird, but he also knows that you and him are the same age when you guys meet, so it doesn’t matter too much to him.

Floyd Talbert: “You’re kidding.. Right?” He’s s gonna ask you that same question just about a hundred times until you swear to him that you wouldn’t kid around like that. “So you’re telling me you came from the year 2024? So what kind of spaceship do you drive, pretty?” Lol you have to give him the anti-climatic truth that we do not in fact drive around in spaceships, and that the future isn’t as different as he thinks. “So does all this mean you might take me to the future with you one day?” Cue in that sly smirk of his. He’d ask a good bit of questions, “How are the babes in the future?” and “How fast do the cars go?” He’s very interested in how things work in modern times. The age difference wouldn’t mind him much, you’re the same age as him in his time period so it doesn’t matter to him.

Skip Muck: He’s very very shocked. It’s gonna take him at least 3-4 business days to process the information you just gave him. Of course he’s going to accept you and accept the fact that you actually aren’t from this time period, but it’s going to take him some time. His curiosity would get the best of him and he would ask you all kinds of questions. You have to remind him that even though you’re eighty years from the future it’s not super different from life in the forties. I think it also helps him gain a lot of new perspectives because of being with you. “So I'm dating someone from the future? That sounds pretty hot.” Like some of the others I feel like he would be the type to tease you on the age difference. “Dang babe I didn’t know you were into guys so much older. I’m sure the guys your age couldn’t compete anyway.”

Don Malarkey: It takes him a good second to process all of the information that you told him. I think instead of asking a bunch of questions about the future he would more so ask questions about the whole time travel thing. How did it happen? Was it an accident? Is there a way to get back home? He tries to be really understanding of the whole situation, how he would feel if he stepped into a hole and ended up in the 1800’s or something like that. He feels really bad about the whole thing, like he’s keeping you back in the forties. You have to remind this guy a lot that you chose to be there with him, not the other way around. Trying to explain what an iphone is to him would be SO funny, “So you can call, and see the other person's face when you do it?” He would tease you about the age difference only a little bit but other than that he wouldn't care much.

Babe Heffron: “Quit lying, There sure as hell isn't any pretty girl like you from the future, they probably all look like aliens!” It takes him forever to actually take the whole thing seriously lmao. Once he does finally start to wrap his head around the whole time travel thing he is so confused as to why you would want to stay once you figured out you were in the middle of a war haha. “A pretty thing like you definitely shouldn't be here, and especially because of me.” At first he would try talking you into going back home, just because he would hate for you to stay somewhere you don’t want, even though it would kill him to watch you go, but he knows you deserve to be back with your people. He’s so sweet about the whole thing. He doesn’t really care about the age difference much, he's one of those, “IF you’re happy, I’m happy” Kind of boyfriends.

Shifty Powers: I think like all of the others (of course) he would have a really hard time trying to comprehend the whole time travel thing. “You’re gonna have to go back home soon, right? I’m sure you miss your folks from back home.” He’s so kind about it all, he might not completely understand the whole thing, but he loves you so he’s down to accept it 100%. Also like some of the other guys he would ask you about the whole outcome of the war. IF they win or not and other questions like that. I don’t think he would ask about anytime farther than 1960. “So you’re telling me they put a man on the moon? No way.” For the age difference he might find it a little silly but he tries not to bring it up, he's not embarrassed or anything, he just doesn't want you to get shy about it.

Frank Perconte: “Stop with the jokes, I know damn well you aint from the 2020’s.” He gives you a “Really?” Look that only a disappointed parent could give when you tell him that you're from the future. Once he’s finally convinced that you’re actually from the future he’s ready for you to go back, get him some cool gadgets, and bring them back to him once you've got them. He is also baffled by the amount of inflation since the 40s “So you’re telling me that a candy bar is 2 dollars? Ain’t no way.” He would ask a couple questions about the future but mostly things about politics, and the war. Maybe about cars and some of his other interests too. For the age difference I think he’s pretty shameless in that aspect. “As long as you’re 18 I could care less.”

Ronald Speirs: The oddest thing about it all is the fact that he isn’t even really surprised when you tell him. “I knew something was up with you honey, just couldn’t figure out what it was.” He’s gonna ask you questions but only in an insanely hot way that makes you feel like you’re being pursued big time (if that makes sense) “So tell me, doll, what’s it like over there? Do you like it? Think maybe I could join you on one of your next little trips” He thinks you must have exceptional taste if you chose to place yourself in the forties of all other time periods. “Maybe I can take you dancing sometime. I think you’d like the change of pace.” For the age difference he doesn’t see it as odd per say, more as really random. If someone thinks it's weird his defense is, “it just happened.”

Johnny Martin: “The hell are you talking about? You hit your head or somethin’?” *Cue in the judgemental auntie look* He’s very confused. While you’re explaining to him how you got here, he’s gonna stop you like 5 times and ask you to explain it all over again for him. “So did it hurt, when you just..got here?” He’s very spooked out by the whole thing but he tries his hardest to understand. Please don’t show him a movie from the present time, if you do, he’ll become obsessed immediately. Literally begging to watch another movie any chance you get. When it comes to the age difference, he would kinda base his opinion on how you feel about it. If you find it funny, then he finds it funny, if you don’t like talking about it, then he won’t talk about it.

Chuck Grant: He’s in absolute awe that the future could be that advanced. Once you tell him you’re from the future he starts to wonder if other people he is close with are also from the future or past. He’s also just a tiny bit bummed out that you didn’t tell him beforehand. “How long were you gonna wait to tell me?” He does worry quite a bit that maybe the differences between the forties and now are too big for you. He just hates for you to get homesick and stay just because of him. “Tell me all about it. What’d ya miss most about the future?” He’s so up for listening to you tell him stories about your life before moving to his time period. “Do you ever want to go back? Maybe take me with you?” For the age difference, I don’t even think it crosses his mind in the first place, he doesn’t comprehend the fact that he’s technically 80 something years older than you.

Skinny Sisk: “Sure and I’m the president of the United States.” I’ll be honest with you, he thinks you're full of shit. When you say time travel all his mind can think of is Alice in Wonderland when she falls down the rabbit hole and ends up in a whole new world. It takes some convincing but he eventually tries to make sense of the whole thing. (please for me show him a sexy red music video and see his reaction.) He really tries to know more about your time just so that you guys will have things to talk about and there won’t be such a cultural barrier between you two. I think he’d really like the fashion for guys in the 2020s, like please go back and get him those chunky sneakers and colorful graphic tees please. Let’s be honest, i doubt that man is going to give any fucks on the age difference, the guy is already unhinged as it is.

David Webster: I feel like he’s definitely one of the guys that believe you right when you tell them; no convincing needed. He’s gonna ask you a ton of questions about everything. How you got here and all that jazz. Definitely gonna interview about it all too, the writer in him just HAS to. He wants to know all about the main differences from then and now. He has such a strong interest in learning about all of this stuff from the 2000’s. “So honey, do you know how to get back? Is there a way you can get there?” He tries to see if you and him could somehow go back in time even farther together to the 1800s or something like that because he’s all about learning.

Buck Compton: Once you tell him all about you being from the future he has to hit you with a corny little joke like, “Did it hurt when you fell from heaven?” or something along the lines of that. He finds it really interesting but he’s still a bit skeptical about it all. What if you randomly have to leave and don’t exactly get a choice to stay? He finds it all a bit crazy but it opens up his mind a bit to time travel and other spiritual stuff in general! I don’t think he would ask too many questions about the future (because he’s simply just too focused on his time) but he enjoys whenever you tell him stories about the 2000s and anything having to do with the future.

Sorry for the late post folks! I apologize! I hope you all have an amazing holiday! 🤎🧡

[imaginethatneathuhpartdos]

Hello! Can you please write Headcannons with Chato Santana with a reader who struggles with metal health?

Here ya go. Hope you like it. https://www.tumblr.com/imaginethatneathuh/768613022459674624/chato-santanael-diablo-with-a-mentally-ill-reader?source=share

[imaginethatneathuhpartdos]

I love this. Michael refusing to speak or give much, just being his usual self, while the reader fills in the blanks but does it well because they know Michael. I love it.

Keep up the good work.

michael myers x reader? like they’re together and they just live together lol. id love to know what your take on just living with michael is

through the mask

WARNING: None

PAIRING: Michael Myers x Reader

NOTE: Hi!! This idea immediately got my brain going, so thank you! Hope you enjoy, and sending you all the love in the world! Take care of yourself <333

SUMMARY: In a quiet moment at home, you and Michael Myers share an evening together that’s both unsettling and strangely tender.

There was something oddly calming about having Michael Myers in your living room.

Sure, most people would have screamed or fainted or bolted out of the nearest window if they saw him standing in their house. The Shape. The Boogeyman. The man who sent babysitters running for their lives and whose mask still haunted countless urban legends.

But for you? This was just… Thursday.

Michael sat on the couch in his usual blue coveralls, mask in place, and his massive frame somehow managing to look both relaxed and entirely alert. He had his nasty, dirty boots on the carpet—something you’d scolded him for a hundred times but had long since given up on.

“Y’know,” you said, standing in the doorway with a mug of tea in hand, “it wouldn’t kill you to try a hobby that doesn’t involve blades. Maybe knitting? Painting?”

Michael didn’t respond. Not that you expected him to. He just turned his head slightly in your direction, the empty black eyes of his mask fixing on you.

“Right,” you muttered, taking a sip of your tea. “Why paint when you can just… silently judge me? Very on-brand.”

You could’ve sworn his shoulders twitched.

Living with Michael was… an experience.

It was quiet. Uneasy, yes, but oddly mundane at times. The tension always lingered in the air, but you’d learned to live with it, much like someone might live with a perpetually creaky floorboard or a neighbor who mowed their lawn at 6 a.m.

Except, instead of a floorboard or an annoying neighbor, it was Michael.

Your relationship wasn’t normal by any stretch of the imagination. You weren’t even sure how it had started, exactly. One day, he just… didn’t kill you. And then he came back. Again and again, until eventually, you just sort of… accepted his presence.

And somewhere along the way, things shifted. He started staying longer. Watching TV. Sitting at your kitchen table while you cooked dinner.

The fact that you weren’t dead yet still baffled you sometimes. But here you were, alive and kicking, sharing your house with the literal embodiment of fear.

You plopped down on the other end of the couch, careful to leave some space between you and Michael. Not that you thought he’d mind if you sat closer, but you’d learned early on that he valued his personal space.

“What are you watching?” you asked, glancing at the TV.

The screen was paused on some old horror movie, one of those cheesy slasher flicks where the killer was about as subtle as a neon sign.

“Really?” you said, raising an eyebrow. “You’re watching that? Isn’t that, like, a little too meta?”

Michael didn’t answer. He just leaned forward and unpaused the movie.

You sighed, settling back into the cushions. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

The movie played on, the room quiet except for the occasional scream from the TV. Michael stayed still for most of it, but every now and then, you’d catch him tilting his head slightly, like he was analyzing the killer’s methods.

“You’re judging them, aren’t you?” you said, smirking.

He didn’t move.

“You think you could do better.”

Still no response.

“You know you could do better,” you added with a laugh.

At that, he turned his head toward you, the blank eyes of his mask locking onto yours. The silence stretched, thick and heavy, until finally, he reached over and tapped his knife against the arm of the couch. Once. Twice.

“Point taken,” you said, holding up your hands in mock surrender. “You’re the expert.”

As the credits rolled, you stretched and got up, heading toward the kitchen. “Want anything?” you called over your shoulder.

Silence.

Right. Dumb question.

You grabbed a bag of chips and wandered back into the living room to find Michael still sitting there, his knife resting on the coffee table now. He looked… calmer, somehow. Less like a predator waiting to pounce and more like someone who’d just finished a long day at work.

“Hey,” you said softly, sitting back down beside him. “You okay?”

He didn’t move for a moment, but then he turned his head ever so slightly, just enough to let you know he’d heard you.

“You don’t have to say anything,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “I just… I hope you’re… happy.. here. With me.”

You weren’t sure if he understood—Michael was an enigma, a puzzle you’d long since stopped trying to solve. But for a moment, you thought you saw his shoulders relax, just the tiniest bit.

And then, in a move that shocked you more than anything else he’d ever done, he reached out and placed a hand on your knee.

It was brief—barely a second before he pulled back—but it was enough to send your heart racing.

You smiled, warmth blooming in your chest despite the ever-present fear that came with loving someone like him.

“Yeah,” you said softly, leaning back against the couch. “Me too.”

[imaginethatneathuhpartdos]

Oof. Right in the feels.

This is so sweet. I love how gentle you write Thomas.

hiii, i hope you’re doing well 🤍 may i please request a hurt comfort with thomas hewitt? it’s up to you what’s the context going to be, i just want a little bit of angst with happy ending of course! much love, anon <333

roots run deep

WARNING: Mild descriptions of injury, emotional hurt/comfort, dark themes

PAIRING: Thomas Hewitt x Reader

NOTE: Hi anon <3 Thank you for such a gentle request, and I’m so glad you’re here! please don’t hesitate to send more like these—they mean so much. sending all my love back to you, take care of yourself <333

SUMMARY: When an accident leaves you broken and feeling like a burden, Thomas’s quiet strength becomes your unexpected salvation.

There’s a peculiar peace in pain—one that swallows the world whole, silencing every other thought, reducing everything to that sharp, all-consuming sensation. But today, even in the agony threading through your limbs, there’s no peace, only a hollow ache of shame and something you’re not sure you can face. You feel like a burden. An inconvenience. And with every second that Thomas tends to you, patching your wounds with hands too large and too gentle for this world, that feeling deepens.

It was a stupid mistake—a misstep on uneven ground, sending you crashing down hard enough that you could feel the sickening crunch echo through your bones. You’d always thought you were sturdy, that nothing could break you, but lying here, helpless beneath the careful hands of a man like Thomas, you feel as fragile as glass.

He works in silence, as he always does. The only sounds are the creak of the floorboards beneath his weight, the soft shuffling as he moves around, gathering whatever he thinks will help ease your pain. You can barely look at him, your gaze fixed on the rough, weathered ceiling above as he wraps your ankle in a makeshift bandage, his fingers brushing against your skin with a softness you didn’t know he had.

“Thomas…” Your voice is weak, barely more than a whisper. You want to tell him to stop. To tell him he doesn’t have to go through the trouble, that you’re not worth it. But the words catch in your throat, thick and choking, and you can only lie there, your breaths coming in shallow, trembling gasps.

He pauses, his gaze flickering up to meet yours. You can see the concern in his eyes—a deep, wordless worry that tugs at something inside you, something you’ve tried so hard to bury. He doesn’t say anything; he never does, but there’s an understanding there, a quiet reassurance that fills the silence between you.

He nods once, a slight, almost imperceptible motion, and resumes his work. His hands are steady, unwavering, as if he’s done this a thousand times before. Maybe he has. Maybe he’s patched up wounds far worse than yours. Or maybe he just knows what it feels like to hurt, to be broken in ways no one else can see.

You want to say something, to break the silence hanging heavy between you, but you can’t find the words. They tangle and knot in your throat, a mess of emotions you don’t know how to unravel. So you lie there, letting him work, feeling the warmth of his hands seep into your skin, grounding you, tethering you to something solid, something real.

As he finishes, he pulls back, his gaze lingering on you for a moment longer than necessary. There’s something in his eyes—a softness, a tenderness that catches you off guard. It’s a look you’ve seen only once before, in a moment so fleeting you’d thought you’d imagined it. But now, seeing it here, with his hands still hovering over you, you know it’s real.

And it terrifies you.

You’re not used to kindness. Not the kind that comes without strings attached, without expectations. It feels foreign, strange, like a language you’ve forgotten how to speak. But Thomas… he doesn’t need words. He never has. His actions speak louder than any words ever could, a silent promise that he’ll be there, that he’ll stay, even when you can’t stand on your own.

“Thank you,” you whisper, the words barely audible, but he hears you. You know he does, because his gaze softens, his hand hovering over yours for a heartbeat before he pulls away, as if he’s afraid to break you further.

There’s a part of you that wants to reach out, to take his hand in yours, to let him know that you’re here, that you see him too. But you don’t. You can’t. The weight of your own shame, your own self-doubt, holds you back, rooting you to the spot.

But Thomas doesn’t push. He doesn’t ask for anything more than you can give. He simply stands, his hulking figure casting a shadow over you, a silent guardian in the dim light of the room. You feel safe here, in his presence, in the steady rhythm of his breathing, in the quiet strength he radiates.

As he turns to leave, you feel a pang of something you can’t quite name—a longing, a need for him to stay, to keep that silence filled with his presence. You don’t want to be alone, not tonight. Not when the weight of your own thoughts threaten to pull you under.

“Thomas,” you call out, your voice barely above a whisper. He stops, turning to look at you, and for a moment, you see something in his eyes—something soft, something vulnerable, something you’ve never seen before.

“Will you… stay?” The words slip out before you can stop them, and you feel your face flush with embarrassment, but he doesn’t laugh, doesn’t look at you with pity. He simply nods, a silent agreement, and settles down beside you, his massive form filling the space, grounding you in a way nothing else can.

You sit in silence, the room filled with the soft sounds of our breathing, and for the first time in a long time, you feel a sense of peace. A sense of belonging. Thomas doesn’t need words to make you feel safe, to make you feel understood. His presence alone is enough, a silent promise that you’re not alone, that you don’t have to carry this weight on your own.

In the quiet, you feel his hand brush against yours, a tentative, hesitant touch, as if he’s afraid to break the fragile peace between you. But you don’t pull away. You let him take your hand, let his warmth seep into you, filling the empty spaces inside you with something you can’t quite name.

It’s love. Something you haven’t felt in a long time.

[imaginethatneathuhpartdos]

Aw. Poor baby feels so bad. It's cute.

And I could really feel how bad he felt for it and how much he wanted to fix it.

Hey! 💕 I was wondering if you could write some headcanons for Thomas Hewitt accidentally hurting his S/O in his sleep? Like, maybe he's having a nightmare or just moves too roughly? And how he reacts when he wakes up and realizes what he's done? Thanks so much! 🖤

thomas hewitt accidentally hurting his s/o in his sleep: headcanons

WARNING: Nightmare-related violence

PAIRING: Thomas Hewitt x Reader

NOTE: Thank you SO much oh my god I love him so much. I hope you like these!

Thomas is a large man with a lot of strength, and even when he’s resting, he doesn’t always have full control over his movements.

When he’s having a nightmare (which is often) his body tends to thrash, fists clenching tightly as his mind struggles to escape the horrors.

It’s during one of these restless nights that his hand comes down too hard, unintentionally hitting you.

It’s not meant to be violent, just a reflex from whatever he’s fighting in his dream, but given his size and strength, the impact is enough to hurt.

The moment he wakes up and realizes what’s happened, Thomas is absolutely horrified.

His eyes go wide, and there’s a deep sense of panic in them.

He’s normally so careful around you, always conscious of his strength and size, and the thought of hurting you—even unintentionally—breaks his heart.

Thomas can't voice his regret. But his actions say more than enough.

His hands tremble as he reaches out to check if you’re okay, gently cradling the part of you he hurt.

He’ll pull you close if you let him, as if holding you might erase the damage.

He can’t stop blaming himself, and it’s clear in the way his shoulders sag, his head bowed in shame.

You’ll likely have to reassure him, letting him know it was an accident, that you understand he’d never hurt you on purpose.

But even with your reassurances, Thomas will still feel a deep guilt for days afterward.

From then on, he becomes even more cautious when sleeping next to you.

He might hold you a little looser, or avoid resting his full weight against you, constantly mindful of your safety.

He loves you so much, and the idea of hurting you, even accidentally, weighs heavily on him.

In the following days, Thomas becomes even more attentive and gentle.

He’ll find ways to show you how much he cares, from holding your hand softly to tending to any injury he might have caused, even if it’s just a small bruise.

He’s constantly checking in on you, his eyes filled with concern every time he catches your gaze.

Thomas will occasionally need comfort too.

He’ll rest his head against you, waiting for any sign that you still feel safe with him.

Your touch is the only thing that calms him, that reassures him he hasn’t ruined the trust you share.

Even after the incident, Thomas will have a lingering fear of hurting you again.

You might catch him staring at his hands sometimes, as if he’s questioning their purpose—whether they were made to protect or harm.

It’s up to you to remind him that you’re safe with him and that his strength, when controlled, is something that makes you feel loved and secure.

Thomas is already incredibly protective of you, but after this, it intensifies.

He watches over you even more closely, determined to never let anything—or himself—hurt you again.

[imaginethatneathuhpartdos]

Oh, I thought this was really cute. I especially liked the Scream Boys' and the Sinclairs'.

I was the one who made reader have a you her sibling they take care of, just saying, it was so amazing. I love it:D. I have another request. This one was a bit weird and rushed cause like I'm a sleepover with two of my cousins so

Billy Loomis, Bubba Sawyer, Art the Clown, Stu Matcher, Thomas Hewitt, Jason, Michael, Billy Lenz, Pinhead, Tiffany (if you write for her) Charles/Chucky, Bo, Vincent, Lester, Brahms. If you want to add more or get rid of some it's okay. But you can either have it platonic of them being a younger sibling or child (adopted or not) going to a sleepover. Maybe sneaking out to it. They go to find out where they are and find them in a house and they are being loud, laughing, and just being kids

If you don't do platonic (cause I can't remember if you do or don't) then do it romantically and just like the same thing. You can change things if you that helps and sorry about this. But, the request I first made and you did, it was a great and made me smile cause I didn't expect it so thanks for that

slashers reactions to their younger sibling reader sneaking out to a sleepover ; headcanons

WARNING: None

PAIRING: Billy Loomis & Sibling! Reader, Bubba Sawyer & Sibling! Reader, Art the Clown & Sibling! Reader, Stu Macher & Sibling! Reader, Thomas Hewitt & Sibling! Reader, Jason Voorhees & Sibling! Reader, Michael Myers & Sibling! Reader, Billy Lenz & Sibling! Reader, Pinhead & Sibling! Reader, Tiffany Valentine & Sibling! Reader, Charles Lee Ray/Chucky & Sibling! Reader, Bo Sinclair & Sibling! Reader, Vincent Sinclair & Sibling! Reader, Lester Sinclair & Sibling! Reader, Brahms Heelshire & Sibling! Reader

NOTE: Hope you enjoyed this! I could imagine so many of them struggling to hold back but ultimately wanting to let you just be a kid and have fun. Thank you so much for this request; it was a blast to write!

BILLY LOOMIS

You’ve managed to sneak out quietly, thinking Billy won’t notice because he’s engrossed in a movie marathon.

But within half an hour, he realizes you’re gone and his “big sibling” instincts kick in.

He shows up at the house with that intense, unblinking stare that could stop anyone mid-laugh.

Who do you think you are, sneaking out like this?

He’s relieved (and slightly embarrassed) to see you just goofing off with friends.

Pretends to be unimpressed when you’re caught off guard.

He’ll let you stay—for now—

With the most deadpan expression, muttering,

“You could’ve just told me.”

But he’s not about to let you get away with it.

Once you’re back home, he’s the silent-but-deadly type. Just know you’re grounded.

BUBBA SAWYER

Bubba panics the minute he realizes you’re gone, running through the house and making distressed sounds as he searches for you.

He's going to family members and pointing to where your things should be.

The whole family tries to calm him down, but he’s inconsolable until he finds a clue leading him to the sleepover house.

When he tracks you down, he’s so relieved he doesn’t know what to do.

Seeing you safe and having fun brings tears to his eyes.

He’ll probably sit outside the house, just quietly waiting for you to finish.

If you notice him, he might wave shyly or even try to make himself “invisible.”

ART THE CLOWN

Oh, Art knows you’ve snuck out, and he’s amused.

He’s both delighted to have a reason to check in and irritated that you thought you could get away with this.

Appears at the sleepover out of nowhere, scaring the life out of anyone who notices him lurking outside.

Watches silently, only making himself known to you with that twisted grin of his, waving as if to say, “Caught you!”

Doesn't stop you from having fun but does make it clear that he knows—and will remember.

Expect creepy antics as payback when you get home.

STU MACHER

Stu probably wasn’t paying enough attention to notice you sneaking out right away, but once he does..

He's MAD.

Once he finds the house, he’s too tempted not to sneak around and scare the shit out of all of you.

Might throw a pebble at the window to get your attention and then give you a dramatic pout, mouthing,

“How could you leave me out?”

When you get home, he’ll give you a long (and playful) guilt trip about how you left him to "suffer".

THOMAS HEWITT

Notices you’re missing right away.

Thomas doesn’t like you out of his sight, so he feels uneasy, imagining the worst.

He follows you quietly, not wanting to interrupt.

When he spots you through the window, safe and laughing, he stops, taking a deep breath of relief.

Watches you with a slight smile, just relieved to see you having fun.

He’s happy that you’re being a normal kid and knows better than to interrupt that.

Will probably leave you alone and probably won't bring it up, ever.

He would definitely prefer if you let him know though.

JASON VOORHEES

Jason’s heart drops when he notices you’re not in your usual spot, and he’s anxious as he starts tracking you down.

He’s relieved to see you laughing and safe with friends.

Stays outside or hidden, keeping a protective eye.

He doesn’t want to interrupt but also doesn’t want anything sneaking up on you.

Plus, who knows if these kids don't mean any harm?

Might leave little signs outside (like stacked stones) to let you know he was there, just to make sure you’re safe.

MICHAEL MYERS

He’s annoyed.

Why would you leave his protection?

Michael doesn’t even try to blend in; he’s the shadow at the window.

Once you see his white mask peeking in, you know the jig is up.

He won’t cause a scene, but he just stares until you get the message.

When you sneak out to meet him, he’ll give you a tiny “you-know-better” look, but he’s not mad—he just wants you safe.

Doesn’t reveal himself to anyone else, but he’ll stay there the entire time.

When you get home, expect a long, silent stare, reminding you that you’re not as sneaky as you think.

BILLY LENZ

He notices right away.

Billy has a keen eye for your whereabouts, and he’s instantly on the move, tracking you down.

Peers through the window, watching you play with a pout.

He feels oddly betrayed but finds your happiness too endearing to be angry.

He won’t disrupt the fun, but you might catch a glimpse of him outside, holding his hands up in an “I’m watching you” gesture.

When you get home, he’ll tease you nonstop about “abandoning him.”

PINHEAD

This is completely out of the ordinary, and he is both confused and a bit annoyed that you snuck out without informing him.

Appears in his signature, intimidating way, silently observing from outside.

He finds the concept of a “sleepover” curious.

He’s more contemplative about it, watching as if studying some strange new human ritual.

He waits until you’re ready to return and then accompanies you back without a word.

You can expect a very stern lecture when you get home about the importance of communication…

TIFFANY VALENTINE

She realizes quickly that you’re gone and storms out to find you, though her anger’s more worried than anything.

When she spots you through the window, laughing and having fun, her irritation fades into a soft smile.

She won’t interrupt, just stands outside and watches for a bit.

She loves seeing you like this, happy and unbothered.

When you get back, she’ll playfully scold you but then pull you into a hug, reminding you to tell her next time.

CHUCKY (CHARLES LEE RAY)

Chucky’s annoyed at first, muttering to himself,

“What does this kid think they’re doing?”

He’s irritated you’d sneak off, especially without his “permission,” and tracks you down, grumbling the entire way.

When he finds you, he feels an odd mix of pride and annoyance.

He likes your independence but also doesn’t like feeling “left out.”

Gives you a wicked grin through the window, mouthing, “We’re talking later.”

He’ll grumble that “next time, you should let him know,” but he’s proud you managed to sneak out without him noticing.

BO SINCLAIR

Bo is mad and lets you know it.

He’s worried you’re in danger, and when he finds you, he’s that overprotective brother with his arms crossed.

He pulls you aside, lecturing you on safety and probably embarrassing you in front of your friends.

But once he knows you’re okay, he lets up a bit and waits outside for you, a little softer.

At home, he pretends he’s still mad but lets you off the hook pretty easily.

VINCENT SINCLAIR

Vincent’s used to you being close by, so when you’re not there, he’s unnerved and worried.

Tracks you down and watches quietly, almost touched to see you carefree with your friends.

Leaves a little note or sketch somewhere you’ll find it later, a reminder of his presence even when you’re far away.

He’s quiet when you get home, but there’s a warmth to his gaze.

You should him next time..

LESTER SINCLAIR

Lester’s both amused and concerned when he finds you missing.

He tracks you down quickly, not one for letting you go unguarded.

When he finds you through the window, he watches with a fond smile, chuckling at your carefree attitude.

Might knock on the door and make up an excuse to check on you if you notice him, but he’ll mostly just let you have your fun.

Gives you a playful nudge and a “don’t think you’re getting away that easy next time” when you get back.

BRAHMS HEELSHIRE

Brahms does not take this well, feeling abandoned and maybe a bit betrayed.

When he tracks you down, he watches from the shadows, arms crossed, grumpy but protective.

Might stare until you feel his gaze and look over at him, just so you know he found you.

When you return, expect a big fuss, with Brahms grumbling about how much he “suffered” in your absence.

[imaginethatneathuhpartdos]

Oh my god. This is so sweet.

I love all of them so much. I don't think I can choose a favorite. I really liked Jason's, though. And Vincent's...

Hiiiii so if you want to ignore this you can, but I just got a dog, His name is bubba, (yes, TCM ref.), and it got me thinkin, "hey, what would the slasher's reaction be to the reader having a pet that shared the same name as them?" I'd like this maybe with Bubba, Thomas, Jason, Michael, the Sinclairs, and whatever other slasher you wanna add (luv ur work btw :3)

slashers with a reader who has a pet that shares a name with them ; headcanons

WARNING: None

PAIRING: Bubba Sawyer x Reader, Thomas Hewitt x Reader, Jason Voorhees x Reader, Michael Myers x Reader, Lester Sinclair x Reader, Vincent Sinclair x Reader, Bo Sinclair x Reader

NOTE: Thank you for the kind words! :) This is such a cute idea and I loved writing these. Also this was mostly aimed towards cats and dogs because I literally couldn't think of anything for like.. any other variety 😭😭

BUBBA SAWYER

When you introduced your pet as "Bubba," you fully expected Bubba himself to tilt his head like a confused puppy.

The second he realized the two of them had the same name was priceless.

He started pointing at himself, then at your pet, as if to confirm he was hearing things right.

After the initial shock, Bubba became incredibly attached to your pet.

He'd follow Bubba Jr. (LOL) around the house, and you'd catch him feeding stuff to your pet that he shouldn't be when he thought you weren’t looking.

It was strangely sweet how proud he seemed to share a name with your pet, even if it did get a little confusing at times when you called for one of them.

If anything, Bubba grew a bit possessive.

He wanted to be your favorite Bubba, after all, and you could swear he would get jealous if you gave the pet too much attention!

THOMAS HEWITT

Thomas was initially quiet about the whole name-sharing situation.

He didn’t show any particular reaction when you introduced your pet as "Tommy" (or "Thomas"), but you could tell something was on his mind by the way he kept glancing between you and your pet.

At first, he just gave an amused huff and shrugged it off, figuring it was a funny coincidence.

But deep down, he was secretly touched.

Not that he’d admit it, of course.

Over time, though, you’d notice him sneaking affectionate looks to your pet when no one was around.

Thomas actually liked the idea of having a namesake—even if it was a animal—because it made him feel a little more connected to you.

It was something small, but it gave him a sense of belonging, which was rare for him.

JASON VOORHEES

When you told Jason you had a pet named "Jason," he froze for a solid minute, staring at you with that blank hockey mask of his.

He didn’t really know how to process it at first.

On the one hand, it was strange hearing his name on your lips when you weren’t talking to him.

But on the other hand, there was something oddly endearing about it.

Jason grew protective of your pet in his own silent way.

He’d keep a close eye on them, ensuring they were always safe and sound.

Whenever you called for "Jason," he’d appear too—just to make sure you didn’t need him for anything important.

The fact that he shared a name with your pet didn’t bother him too much, especially since you never mixed up the two of them (though there were a few amusing moments when both Jasons turned their heads at the same time).

Ultimately, he found a sense of kinship with your pet, almost like they were a little duo.

Two Jasons, both devoted to you.

MICHAEL MYERS

Michael’s reaction to hearing your pet’s name?

Pure silence.

As usual..

He just stood there, staring at you with that emotionless mask.

You couldn’t tell if he found it funny, annoying, or if he simply didn’t care.

But in classic Michael fashion, he wasn’t about to make a big deal out of it.

Over time, though, you’d start to notice little things—like how Michael would give your pet long, lingering looks whenever you weren’t paying attention, or how he’d mysteriously disappear and reappear at the same time as your pet's walks.

It was as if he was silently competing for your attention.

Not that he’d admit it.

He wasn’t jealous exactly, but Michael didn’t like sharing.

Especially not his name.

That being said, he tolerated your pet because it made you happy..

LESTER SINCLAIR

“Oh, wow! You’ve got a dog named Lester? Ain’t that somethin’!”

Lester burst out laughing when you introduced your pet, finding it genuinely hilarious that your pet had the same name as him.

He didn’t take it seriously at all—if anything, he was proud.

"Now we’re like a little team, huh?"

he joked, ruffling your pet's fur and making fast friends with them.

Lester thought it was funny whenever you called for "Lester" and both of them turned to look at you, and he’d laugh every time.

He didn’t mind sharing the name at all—in fact, he loved it.

Your pet quickly became his partner in crime during his rounds through Ambrose.

He’d always bring treats for them and refer to the two of them as "the Lesters," thinking the whole situation was a blast.

VINCENT SINCLAIR

Vincent was intrigued, to say the least.

He didn’t talk much, but when you introduced your pet as "Vincent," you could see the curiosity in his eyes behind the mask.

He wasn’t used to hearing his name spoken aloud, so it was a little strange at first, but he didn’t dislike it.

He found it almost poetic that your pet shared his name.

Vincent wasn’t one for words, but the quiet moments when he watched you with your pet made him feel a strange warmth in his chest.

Your pet often sat in his art studio while he worked, and over time, Vincent would even carve small figurines resembling your pet.

While it was a bit odd at first, Vincent enjoyed the quiet companionship.

Your pet’s presence wasn’t invasive, and sharing a name felt more like sharing a piece of himself with you.

BO SINCLAIR

Bo wasn’t exactly thrilled when he found out you had a pet named after him.

"Bo?"

he’d ask, raising an eyebrow.

"You named a damn animal after me?"

At first, he acted annoyed, but it didn’t take long for that classic Bo charm to kick in.

"Well, I guess it’s fitting. Both of us handsome devils, huh?"

He’d joke about it, brushing off the initial surprise, but there was always a part of him that felt a little smug about it.

Bo liked the idea of you having a constant reminder of him, even if it was in the form of a pet.

And while he’d never admit it, he found himself getting a little jealous when you called your pet's name, and he didn’t get the attention.

You’d catch him grumbling, muttering under his breath,

"Don’t forget who the real Bo is, sweetheart."

He’d eventually warm up to the pet, though, and you’d see him giving them sneaky pets when he thought you weren’t looking.

[imaginethatneathuhpartdos]

Love the progression and tension-building.

Hey there! I love your writing. I was wondering if you could write something where Michael Myers is super possessive and protective of the reader. The reader is normally really independent and tough, but they get into a situation where they actually need help—maybe they’re being stalked or harassed by someone, and Michael steps in?

silent guardian

WARNING: Possessiveness, stalking/harassment, violence, gore, toxic protectiveness, mention of murder.

PAIRING: Michael Myers x Reader

NOTE: Take you for your request! Enjoy!

SUMMARY: You're used to handling things on your own. You've always been independent and strong, never needing anyone’s help—until someone starts stalking you. At first, you think you can deal with it, but the situation escalates beyond your control. Michael Myers, lurking in the shadows, has always kept a watchful eye on you, and now, when you truly need help, he's more than ready to step in.

You had always prided yourself on your independence, on being the kind of person who could handle whatever came their way. You never needed anyone to protect you, and you certainly didn’t need anyone watching over you like some fragile thing. Life had thrown its fair share of challenges your way, but you'd learned to fight through them on your own terms.

That was before the stalking started.

At first, it was just unnerving—someone watching you too closely, lingering in places you couldn’t see, leaving a trail of anxiety wherever you went. But lately, things had escalated. You’d started noticing small signs, messages left behind, your name scrawled on your car window in the condensation, items in your home moved just slightly out of place.

You tried to brush it off, convincing yourself you could handle it. After all, you weren’t one to be scared so easily. But the weight of someone constantly lurking in the background was starting to wear on you, making you jump at shadows and lock every door twice.

It was only when the situation came to a head that you realized just how far out of control things had gotten.

You were on your way home late one night, cutting through a dark alley you had taken a hundred times before, when you heard the footsteps behind you. They weren’t subtle. Whoever was following you wanted you to know they were there.

Your heart raced, your breath catching in your throat as you quickened your pace, trying to lose whoever it was. But no matter how fast you walked, the footsteps stayed right behind you, the presence growing closer with each second.

Fear gnawed at you, a feeling you hadn’t experienced in a long time. You turned a corner, hoping to lose them in the winding streets, but they were relentless. Panic set in as you reached a dead-end, and for the first time in a long while, you felt trapped.

Before you could react, the figure appeared at the mouth of the alley, stepping out of the darkness.

Your instincts screamed at you to run, but there was nowhere to go. Just as the shadow moved toward you, something else stirred in the darkness—something much larger, much more dangerous.

Michael. Though, you didn't know it yet.

He stepped out from the shadows like a force of nature, his massive form blocking the alleyway. The stalking figure stopped dead in their tracks, fear flickering in their eyes as they realized who and what they were up against.

Michael didn’t speak. He didn’t need to. The air around him was thick with menace, his silent fury directed entirely at the person who had dared to follow you.

Without warning, Michael lunged, grabbing the stalker by the throat with one hand and slamming them against the wall. The sound of the impact echoed through the narrow alley, but Michael didn’t stop there. His grip tightened, cutting off any chance of escape for the unfortunate soul who had crossed his path.

You watched, frozen in place, your heart pounding in your chest. Michael’s eyes, under the mask, cold and empty, locked onto the stalker with a single-minded intensity, as if this person’s fate had already been decided.

In a matter of seconds, the threat was neutralized, the stalker left gasping for air on the ground, barely conscious. Michael didn’t spare them a second glance.

He turned to you then. The intensity was still there, but now it was different—possessive, protective. He stepped closer, and despite everything, despite knowing the monster he was, you felt a sense of relief wash over you.

You weren’t alone.

For a moment, the two of you just stood there in the darkness, the weight of the situation settling in. You had always been the strong one, the independent one, but here, in the shadow of someone who lived for violence, you realized that even you needed help sometimes. And Michael—whether out of obsession, possessiveness, or something darker—had always been watching, always ready to step in when you needed him most.

He didn’t speak, didn’t ask if you were okay. That wasn’t his way. Instead, he reached out, his hand roughly grabbing your arm.

A strange comfort settled over you. In his twisted way, Michael had become your protector.

And in that moment, you didn’t mind being his.