#if you need/want more details for the verse! | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

bumblequinn · 11 months

Text

hi @sourpatchsquids! thank you for your question.

as an artist with ADHD, i know this struggle very well. unfortunately offering advice on this kind of thing can be tricky, because what works for me may not work for you (and vice versa!). nonetheless, i can try; take whatever works for you, forget the rest, or reshape any part of it as you see fit. :)

but before i offer any actual tools, i have one caveat. i want you to take a moment to reflect and consider if you should be:

changing expectations

the timing of this question seems fated, because just the other day i had a therapy session wherein i expressed my grief and frustration over struggling to work lately due to my seasonal depression. it's not fair that i'm struggling just because it got a little darker outside! i just want the spark i had in the summer! i was so much more consistent!

my therapist's response: nothing about human beings is consistent. we get sick, we get tired, we get hungry and thirsty (and thirsty) and sad and lonely and restless and stressed and overwhelmed. this all gets amplified for folks who are atypical in some way or another.

when my therapist compared our seasonal cycles to those of plants and other animals, who wilt and slow down and hibernate, i protested aloud that i wanted to be a perennial instead. at this she said: even perennials change with the seasons. rose bushes have to be pruned, sometimes down to half their height! it was a dose of perspective i didn't particularly want, but really needed.

so when you're struggling to work through executive dysfunction, burnout, or brain fog, it can help to first check in with yourself about a few things. what do you have the capacity for right now? do you need any accommodation? and if so, what changes you might make to accommodate yourself?

with practice and self reflection, i've learned a handful of specific routines that help me when i'm struggling with creative work, which i'll detail next. note that while your question is specifically about music and i am specifically a musician, i believe that all of these suggestions can apply to most any form of digital creative work.

with that in mind:

#1: work slower

when i'm at the top of my game, i can get a LOT done in a day. but when i'm depressed, fatigued, or distracted, i just can't go full steam. sometimes i'll try to convince myself that i can if i just push harder, but what actually ends up happening is that i'm just fiddling with settings and going in circles rather than moving forward.

instead of that, when i want to work a lot but can't, i try to work slow. how slow? however slow i need to. take four hours to figure out the melody for a single verse. take all day to figure out that drum groove. yeah, i take a lot of breaks in between. who says i have to be my Absolute Most Productive Every Day Or Else? that's the puritan work ethic talking. kill it. be kind to yourself.

i'm reminded of advice i once read about some super successful and prolific author (gaiman? king? pratchett?) who said they wrote only four hundred words every weekday. that's already less than the word count of this post, and i'm only—[travels into the future to check my final word count]... 22.8% of the way through writing it!

now, i don't think i could function that way, because ADHD means some days i'm hyperfocused like crazy, and other days i just have no steam at all (more on that in #4-6). but it seems to me that if even someone highly respected in their profession can achieve what they have with only a little bit of work on a regular basis, maybe i don't have to punish myself for not pumping out a finished work every single week.

doing less work per day means you're much less likely to burn out, which does a lot for working more consistently. if that consistency still doesn't look like a five-day work week, that's okay! as long as it helps you work even a little more often when you want to, it's something worth doing.

however, if you're still feeling truly stuck, all hope isn't lost. you can still try:

#2: switch projects

sometimes the reason i'm moving slow is because of a bad brain day, but sometimes the reason is that i just cannot muster the motivation to do the specific task i'm trying to do right now. ADHD is fueled by novelty and interest, and if i'm not interested in what i'm doing, or it's feeling stale, that's a sign that i need to switch gears.

this is why first it's helpful for me to have more than one project going at a time. this might mean completely unrelated works, or it might just mean related tracks as with the music for a game like SLARPG or susan taxpayer.

the idea here is not to start a dozen different projects and bounce around them like i'm playing whac-a-mole—though i have done that. (i don't recommend it.) the idea here is to have a manageable number of different projects i can be working on so that if i get bored or stuck on something, i have fallback options.

what that number of projects is depends entirely on the week. maybe right now it's two, maybe another time it's three. i would probably be getting carried away if i tried more than that, but that's just my own limit. maybe yours is different. that's something for you to think about.

but it doesn't have to stop there.

#3: switch focus

maybe there is this one project that i just HAVE to work on, but the task i'm trying to do at this stage just isn't coming to me. okay, well, why don't i try working on a different task?

let's say i can't figure out what i want to do with the melody in one part of the song:

what if i try jumping ahead to a different part of the melody? ...no, i'm stumped on melodies today. okay, how about working on the drums instead? ...hmm no, i think i'm just completely tapped out on writing parts right now. alright, what if i organized my tracks, making sure they're all grouped and named in a way that i can work with easily? what if i did a rough volume balance for the mix?

and so on. if that's not enough to shake the off stuckness, i might consider: what can i do to make this project more interesting to me?

what happens if i try using an instrument or effect that i almost never reach for? what if i try sampling something obscure? what if i bang out the drums using my midi keyboard instead of drawing it in on the piano roll?

any approach that breaks me out of my usual habits is bound to get that feeling of novelty and fun back when i need it.

or maybe i can't do any of that right now, and so i take the time to answer a question from a fellow musician instead. i consider that part of my work, too, in a broader sense. check in with yourself and figure out what you can do right now. the rest will still be there later.

but okay, let's say you try switching gears, and switching again, and again, and nothing is moving. you try new approaches, but that wall of awful is insurmountable in this moment. it happens! the next thing you might try is:

#4: learn something new

when you aren't able to make progress on your projects, you can still make progress on your knowledge and craft. i often find this stokes a flame of inspiration in me where there wasn't one before. and even when it doesn't, it still gets my brain out of that feeling of stuckness and dread and into one of thought and action. learning also benefits in the long term because it adds to the well of knowledge from which you draw for all your future works.

for all the awfulness that exists on the internet, it remains an absolute treasure trove of teaching. there's an endless ocean of videos, blog posts, and articles from which you might learn something about your craft. (and if you sail the seven seas, plenty of book PDFs as well. 🦜🏴‍☠️)

it's true that the quality and depth of information out there can vary wildly, but in my experience most resources get at least some things right. and the more you research, practice, and figure out what works for you, the better you will learn to differentiate between the advice worth keeping, and the advice to forget. (that goes for all of what i'm saying here, too!)

that said, since our shared focus is music, a few resources i would highly recommend are:

music theory and composition music matters, 12tone, charles cornell, music with myles, 8-bit music theory, and this introduction by andrew huang

mixing and production dan worrall (especially this series for fabfilter), kush after hours, red means recording, andrew huang, alice yalcin efe, in the mix

general inspiration nahre sol, ben levin, david hilowitz, game score fanfare, posy, jerobeam fenderson, open reel ensemble, and ELECTRONICOS FANTASTICOS!

(if any readers have their own helpful resources for creating music or any other media, feel free to share in the replies & reblogs! 💓)

of course, on an especially bad day, it might be a challenge to seek out information, let alone retain it. that can feel pretty bad, but remember: be kind to yourself. the next thing you might consider trying is:

#5: consume art you love

not just music. books. shows. movies. games. illustration. animation. whatever moves and inspires you.

but do it intentionally. don't just pull up some random thing the algorithm suggested! check in with yourself about what you want (or are able) to engage with right now. choose accordingly. if you get a little way into it and realize it's not scratching that itch, hit the bricks. check in with yourself again. wash, rinse, repeat, until you find whatever it is that speaks to you right now.

and do it actively, if you can. don't just let it go in one eye and out the other! really pay attention to the work. what do you like about it? what are its themes and motifs? what makes it work so well? what are its flaws, and how much do they matter? what might you do differently? you can write notes as you do this if it helps, but even simply noticing and thinking goes a long way.

what you don't want to do is come at this with a lens of shame or envy. you're not here just to say to yourself, "ugh, if only i could do THAT." it's okay if it happens. use that thought as a springboard for curiosity: "well okay, how DID they do that? do i have the resources for it? if so, how could i apply that to my own work? if not, how can i adapt it, or what do i need to learn?" keep your mind open and approach the work with a sense of wonder.

as a creative person, it's very easy to think, "i should be making something right now, not watching a movie!" but that thought forgets something vital: your art is a response in a conversation. of course the "language" you use is your own, and maybe if you're lucky you'll invent a new word. but most of the words you use have been around long before you were born. you're just one voice in a dialogue that spans continents and generations, and that's okay. it's even the whole point.

none of us is an island. we are profoundly social animals. just as we can't live without eating, we can't make without learning. so half of making art is consuming it. consider this part of the process as well.

and finally,

#6: rest, and live your life

let's say you're in really dire straits. you've tried working slower. you tried changing focus, you tried changing projects. you want to take in new information or actively engage with your favorite art, but you're not in the headspace for it. what now?

take a nap. take a walk. take a shower. eat a nice meal, or an okay one. talk to a friend. maybe even do that chore you've been putting off (you know the one).

it's human to always crave making, but you're not a machine—and even if you were, machines need regular maintenance, too! you wouldn't drive a car that's completely out of gas, and you won't do yourself any favors treating your body that way either.

i know that when you take a break it feels as though you're not accomplishing anything, but you are: you're taking care of your animal self. and while you do that, your creative brain doesn't stop working! much like windows, it has countless background processes running at any given moment, with inscrutable names like "cbdhsvc_692da" or "Microsoft Edge Update Service." it's true, i checked.

when you're stuck on a project and you step away to rest, your brain is still chipping away at your ideas unconsciously. i like to tell people, "it's percolating." much like waiting for a pot of water to boil, that idea is still heating up, even when you take a step away. just be sure to check in on it once in a while. the time will pass, and it'll be boiling again before long. :)

before i go, i'll leave you with one last thing to keep in mind as you try all of these strategies:

be kind to yourself.

being human is just about one of the hardest things you can do. let alone being a human trying to survive capitalism while living with disabilities! the last thing you need on top of that is to overwork yourself, talk to yourself negatively, or treat yourself harshly. there are plenty of other people in the world who do that to you—don't be one of them.

i'm not saying that you shouldn't try to challenge yourself, to test your limits and go above and beyond your ambitions, if that's what you want to do. just remember that hard work and self compassion are not mutually exclusive. so be careful not to bully yourself. take pride in the progress you make, even when it seems small. encourage yourself like you would a friend who's going through a hard time. and when you challenge yourself, be your own cheerleader.

i hope you find this advice helpful! remember, this is just what helps me, so don't feel like you have to follow any of it exactly. maybe taking time to learn new information helps break you out of your rut more than working slowly, so you reach for that tool first. maybe having multiple projects going at once is too distracting for you, so you prefer to stick to one at a time. whatever your needs are, feel free to alter and adapt these ideas to fit you.

thank you for reading, and i wish you the best of luck in your creating.

with care, bee 🐦

#adhd #advice #asks #from #sourpatchsquids

2K notes · View notes

vilnmelling · 5 months

Text

NPMD Digital Ticket details!

Since not every can/can afford to/wants to buy the Digital Ticket for Nerdy Prudes Must Die (and the bonus material that comes with the purchase), for your inclusion purposes, here's a list of fun background details, funny moments and comments made in the track commentary, for you to use however you like!

Ruth doesn't actually need to wear her headgear anymore, but she wears it anyway because it makes her feel safe.

Jeff pitched a Nightmare Time episode about the problematic puppy from Steph's verse of High School Is Killing Me, meaning there is a story there.

In the line, "I learned that at the anti bullying assembly last month, fucknugget!" there's a long pause before "Fucknugget!" which really makes it sound like Max forgot to insult Richie and just threw the word out.

All of the little noises Ruth makes, she makes because she has more she wants to say, but she can't say them (presumably due to anxiety).

In the proshot, you can't see fully how low Richie goes while he and Ruth sneak up on Peter, but Jon is fully crouched down. He then uses Pete's pockets and elbows to climb up like he's climbing a mountain (he mimes using a pick or axe to get good hold).

While Steph is talking, Ruth and Richie try their best to hear through the phone by getting as close as they can to it.

The reason Max and Jason were in the Pasqualli's parking lot is that they were practicing their skateboarding. They do that at Pasqualli's instead of at school/at a skatepark because they don't want the smoke club and skater kids to make them look like noobs. (This was a cut bit from the Pasqualli's scene).

The line, "Some big... dumb... sexy... football star" is expanded. In the Digital Ticket, Grace says, "Some big... dumb... sexy... sweaty... hot... well-spoken... beautifully tall football star."

When they're in the boys bathroom, Steph jumps to see over the stalls.

Richie Naruto runs when they're going to Waylon Hall. Pete slaps his hands down, but after they pause to look at the house, Richie looks over his shoulders at Pete a couple of times before darting away from him, once again Naruto running.

Richie stops in the door at the Waylon Place, so Pete pushes him inside.

Ruth and Richie speak at the same time when they say, "I'm allergic to deodorant" and "I have overactive sweat glands."

Ruth goes straight to Richie to complain after the "pus in my pits" exchange with Steph.

When Steph suggests saying there's a party at the Waylon Place, Pete, Ruth and Richie all react negatively (mostly nervously groaning).

While Grace sings the "He's just a nerd in disguise!" line, Richie can be seen practicing the first move of the Bully the Bully dance.

After Ruth says, "We're gonna cut off his nips!" you can see Steph look confused and ask, "What?"

While Pete and Richie talk in the Waylon Place ("Am I reading as ghost or Lin Manuel Miranda" & "She came all the way out here just for you."), Ruth and Steph discuss and practice Ruth's skeleton moves.

Richie gets stuck in the dangling parts of Pete's costume when he says, "You could just hit it and quit it, bro!" He then aggressively detangles himself.

The line "He's just really fucking brave!" comes from Richie being jealous that he's not that brave.

Richie hypes Ruth up a bit after Max says her skeleton bit was really special.

Grace hides behind Ruth while Max is dying.

Richie rolls his eyes when Grace says "It was an act of god!" (Similarly, Shapiro sighs and looks away in disbelief when Grace later says "It was god's plan!")

Pete gags when Grace says "Hack all his limbs off." Richie can also be seen gagging and holding his stomach several times.

Ruth hands Max's nipples over to Grace after cutting them off.

Jeff Blim is the principal of Hatchetfield High. Not a character of Jeff's, just Jeff himself.

Brenda still seems quite judgmental after the two weeks have passed. She makes a lot of not-quite-friendly faces when the football team's talking about Richie smelling bad.

When Richie struggles to remove the Zeke the Fightin' Nighthawk costume, he accidentally removes his jacket as well, leading to Jon having to put it back on (which he also struggles with) (and which creates a funny situation, since Richie was supposed to go shower).

Richie seems to have hurt his leg by the second fall in Nerdy Prudes Must Die (the song).

After Steph tells Grace to "Leave Ruth alone!" in the principal's office, Ruth tries to grab Steph's hand.

The wig Joey wears when he plays Dan Reynolds isn't Dan's real hair. Dan Reynolds wears a toupée.

Trevor and Angela's drama student encourage each other after they finish rehearsing.

Additional line when Grace is lying to Shapiro: "Suddenly, I remembered a crucial detail that made everything make sense. A picture came flashing into my mind, like I was Enola Holmes!"

"My dad sells women shoe! Shoes!"

Angela misses the chair at Beanie's and falls on her ass, leading to her, Joey and Mariah (mostly Mariah) breaking character.

During The Summoning, Tinky focuses ONLY on Pete. The entire time, he looks like he's restricting himself from lunging out and attacking him. At one point, he points at the Bastard's Box while staring at Pete.

90% of the time during The Summoning, Pokey's staring at his own mask.

Steph facepalms after Max says "That's nasty! ... I like it!"

1K notes · View notes

mysteryshoptls · 5 months

Text

SSR Silver - Platinum Jacket Voice Lines

When Summoned: So, this is the Land of Dawning National Art Museum. This should be the perfect place to work on my imagination.

Summon Line: I am not an art aficionado, but as I have been tasked with being a supporter, I will fulfill this duty to the best of my abilities. I hope to not disappoint.

Groooovy!!: No matter the opponent, one must stand and face them undaunted... I want to become the kind of person capable of that.

Home: A 100th Anniversary, hm. How joyous.

Home Idle 1: It seems Jade also goes into the mountainside often. As I listened to his commentary on a painting of a mountain landscape, I couldn't help but recall my own training memories.

Home Idle 2: Were you able to buy a souvenir? Kalim went and purchased everything they had on display, so I'm pleased to see they were able to replenish their stock in time...

Home Idle 3: Even someone not as well-versed in art, like me, can tell how spectacular these works are. I can also feel just how much unyielding effort was required to create each one.

Home Idle - Login: The Land of Dawning National Art Museum must require a large security detail... Otherwise they wouldn't be able to eliminate all possible blind spots of such a grand venue.

Home Idle - Groovy: It is thanks to Azul that I've thought of another good way to train myself. I'll have to look into making a board game as soon as I can.

Home Tap 1: This outfit is much too dazzling. When I wear it, I become silver from head to toe... It suits me? Well, that's good then.

Home Tap 2: Sculpting not only requires a good artistic sense, but also the muscle strength and stamina to carve heavy stone or wood. I bet it would be a good training method.

Home Tap 3: Epel was telling me just how cool he found the heroes depicted in the paintings. I can empathize with his feelings.

Home Tap 4: I hear that the Lord of the Underworld was pretty loquacious. I'd like to learn how to be more like him, but I'm not sure what kind of training I should do to become a more capable speaker.

Home Tap 5: It is said that the Sea Witch could captivate people with her beautiful singing voice. It would be nice to listen to one of her songs to hear what it was like.

Home Tap - Groovy: Sorry, I just feel a little sleepy... Hm, you'll let me rest on your shoulder? No, that's not what... I need you to wake me... Zzz...

Duo: [SILVER]: Azul, I am counting on you. [AZUL]: I shall live up to the trust you've put in me, Silver-san.

Birthday Login Message: [Yuu]? You came to celebrate my birthday? Thank you. Whenever I receive such warm regards, not only do I feel the gifted kindness, but also I feel a need to hold myself straighter. I vow to continue to be someone worthy enough to be celebrated by everyone.

Requested by @dida-books.

#twisted wonderland #twst #twst silver #azul ashengrotto #twst azul #twst translation #twst birthday #mention: jade #mention: kalim #mention: azul #mention: epel

437 notes · View notes

zepskies · 5 months

Text

Wake Me Up - Part 1

Pairing: Soldier Boy/Ben x F. Reader

Summary: A few weeks after you and Ben celebrate your first Christmas together, Ben is returning from another mission with the Supe Affairs team. When he discovers that you’ve been taken, he’ll do whatever it takes to find you. And then, to help you heal.

AN: Welcome back to the BMD-verse! Let me tell you, I’ve had this mini series outlined for months, but now I thought it was finally time to get to it. If you’re not tired of the Break Me Down world yet, I very much hope you enjoy Wake Me Up.

**As a reminder, this story is set shortly after Love Actually, and will contain references from that three-part story.

Song Inspo: For this whole series it’s “I Can Read Your Mind” by the Doobie Brothers. (I pretty much listened to this on repeat.)

Word Count: 5.5K

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only. Starting off strong in this one: with mature themes, show level violence, angst, kidnapping, PTSD, mentions of torture (not too graphic), and character death.

💚 Wake Me Up Masterlist || Break Me Down Masterlist

Part 1: “Familiar Territory”

The start of a new year continued a steady rhythm for you and Ben. Namely, another successful mission for the Supe Affairs team.

While you were patched into the team’s communications line from the safety of your desk back at the S.A. headquarters in New York, your friends were a few states over in Denver, Colorado. They’d just arrested a supe that had been committing a series of bank robberies by literally slipping away from the police, thanks to his particular superpower.

“Somebody better get this shit off of me,” M.M. groused.

He wasn’t too happy about some questionable ooze this particular supe secreted as a defense mechanism. According to Frenchie’s research, it was the same shit that certain frogs could produce to repel predators.

“Need a good hose down, more like,” said Butcher. “You smell fuckin’ foul.”

“Like Satan’s ass crack,” Ben remarked.

You couldn’t hold back a snort of amusement.

“Let’s just get the fuck outta here,” M.M. said, his tone all surly, as per usual. You didn’t envy his plight.

“Good job, guys,” you said, to change the subject. “Now it’s just a short flight back to New York.”

“No layovers this time. I’m not being paid to rot in a fucking airport with a bunch of mouth-breathing assholes and their screaming brats,” Ben said.

Charming. You rolled your eyes, but a smile played on your lips when you imagined his taciturn face.

“Okay, your majesty. I’ll make sure it’s a nonstop flight,” you said. “I’ll be waiting for you at home.”

That last bit, you said with a hint of more behind your words. You drummed your nails on your desk and crossed your legs underneath it. A week was a long time for you and your boyfriend to be apart, and you’d been missing him.

“You better be,” Ben said. His voice was deep and cocky. He was smirking, you were sure, and you knew that he’d understood you perfectly well.

“Anybody else hearing this blatant foreplay?” Hughie quipped.

“I sense cheeks will be cracked tonight,” Frenchie muttered.

“Ugh!” you heard Annie shudder.

You knew she supported you and Ben, but you also knew that she didn’t want to hear about the gushy details. You laughed through your embarrassment.

“Okay, guys. I’ll see you all tomorrow,” you said, before you officially signed off.

You grabbed your purse that was stowed away in a desk drawer, fished out your cell phone, and you called Ben’s cell. He picked up on the second ring.

“Yeah?” he said.

“I love you,” you said with a smile. “Just wanted to make sure you knew that.”

“Mhmm,” he replied. “I’ll see you soon, baby doll.”

You pouted. “Come on, say it.”

“Say what?”

You sighed. You knew he was being deliberately obtuse.

“You know exactly what,” you replied.

Part of you was upset that he didn’t say it back as often as you liked. God forbid Butcher and the others hear him express his affection for you.

But you supposed you understood that any kind of vulnerability was difficult for him, especially in front of others. As much shit as you gave him, you also knew how to pick your battles with Ben.

“I told you. I’ll see you soon,” he said.

You once again tapped your nails, on your armrest this time. After a moment, you relented.

“Okay, baby. Have a safe flight,” you said, even if you were still frowning.

When Ben hung up with you, he let out a deep sigh.

An entire week with these juvenile cocksuckers was almost too much for him to fucking take. While he often felt your presence with you on the comm line during the actual mission, and the occasional phone call on long nights in between, it wasn’t the same. It wasn’t enough.

He was ready to go home.

The flight itself was fine, though dealing with civilians and the tiring experience of a long-ass flight made him even more antsy to land. Because even when they got to JFK, he still had a hired car waiting for him to drive him from the airport to get to Scarsdale, and to the apartment he shared with you. It had already been almost a year of you two living there, in a three-bedroom spanning two floors.

Ben hadn’t thought he would get used to such a small place, but it was all right. It had become his home, far more than the penthouses and party mansions ever were, at least.

When he finally got home and unlocked the front door of the apartment, he stepped into darkness. All the lights were off.

Odd, he thought. He called your name while he shut the door behind him, then flicked on the foyer light. He realized then that he hadn’t seen your car in the driveway. Were you still working? It wasn’t unlike you to get caught up with the paperwork and other logistics after a case.

After a quick look around of each room, from the kitchen to the living room, Ben knew you hadn’t come home yet. A frown marred his face.

He went upstairs and entered the bedroom next. He unclipped his wrist guards and took his gloves off first, followed by loosening the collar of his supe suit. The bed was made, untouched since this morning, he was sure.

Then he noticed the scrap of paper resting on his pillow. He picked it up, and his brows furrowed as he read.

By the time you find me, she’ll wish she was dead.

Ben called Grace Mallory first.

When she didn’t answer, he called Butcher next. Ben’s hand shook the slightest bit while holding the phone up to his ear.

“Evenin’, guv,” Butcher answered with a tired sigh. “What’s this about—”

“We have a fucking problem,” Ben growled.

Ben pushed the limits of his Mercedes Benz while driving himself to Supe Affairs.

The others met him there in a conference room, except for Grace, who was on an active case at the moment. There Hughie and Frenchie tapped into the S.A. security footage on their laptops.

They eventually found you getting into your car in the S.A. garage, about four hours ago. Then two later, the street cameras picked you up somewhere in the Village. Ben recognized the street.

You probably had dinner with your friend Yvette and her family, but you intended to make it home on time to meet Ben when you left around 9:00 p.m.

You had parallel parked at a meter on the street. According to the footage, it looked quiet and empty when you headed back to your car.

You were stopped by someone before you could get the driver’s side door open. It looked like a man’s height and build; he grabbed you by the shoulder and threw a punch you managed to dodge.

You put up a good fight, but you were eventually knocked out with what looked to be a crowbar, at first glance. When Hughie zoomed in, it was actually a black baton. Ben watched it all with a deepening frown. Anger churned in his gut and ignited his blood as he watched your unconscious body being hauled into a black SUV.

“That looks military-issued,” M.M. said, pointing at the baton that the suspect used to hit you.

Butcher nodded, and also noted the man’s fighting style. “That’s a professional.”

“He would have to be, to take her out,” M.M. said, glancing at Ben. “And the timing. They knew you were coming home. That note was personal, besides the fact that they were casing your place…they’ve probably been watching both of you, waiting for the chance to get the jump on you.”

“The question,” Butcher said, “is who the fuck would wanna tangle with Soldier Boy that badly?”

“Shit. That’s a laundry list, isn’t it?” Hughie said. M.M.’s glance told him to shut the fuck up.

Ben was silent, but his fury was mounting. His head turned sharply to Butcher.

“Get Mallory on the line. Now,” he barked. When no one moved quick enough for him, his temper snapped at its thinly held leash.

“I said right fucking now!”

Slowly you blinked your eyes open. For a moment, you were seeing in double vision. It soon cleared up to reveal dark, damp, musty surroundings.

It smelled familiar; after that mission to find and subdue Sapphire a couple of months ago, you’d recognize a New York sewer anywhere.

Fuuucking shit, you thought with a groan. Your head was aching. You felt a trickle of blood down the side of your neck, and you found yourself in a familiar position—seated on a metal chair with your hands secured behind your back. Your restraints felt like zip ties.

“You finally with us, sweetheart?” asked a man. His voice was smooth and commanding.

“Jackson, I don’t know about this,” whispered someone else. Another man, though he sounded slightly younger, reminding you of Hughie.

“Shut the fuck up, Tommy,” Jackson snapped.

At least you had a name. He stepped into the light that came from a couple of small lanterns. One was propped on top of a bucket by the wall. The other was on a plastic fold out table that you saw a few feet beside you.

The man who stepped into your line of vision was tall, maybe around Ben’s height, if just shy of his build. He was blonde, just like his skinnier friend. They shared some notable facial features and coloring, but while Jackson’s eyes were dark brown and self-assured, the younger man’s were blue and apprehensive. If you had to guess, they looked like brothers.

“Nice digs,” you remarked, gesturing with your gaze at your surroundings.

Jackson rose a brow, crossing his arms.

“You’re taking all this pretty well,” he said.

You huffed humorlessly.

“This isn’t exactly my first kidnapping,” you said.

He quirked his head and drew closer.

“All right. Well, since we’re on the clock, let me tell you why you’re here,” he said. He bent down in front of you so that his face was level with yours. “I need you, sweetheart. You’re going to tell me how to bring down Soldier Boy. How to kill him. How to end him. Then maybe, I’ll let you go without gouging out those pretty eyes.”

You stared back at Jackson with an expression that didn’t change.

Then you spat in his face.

And you expected the hard, back-handed slap that made your head whip to the side. It rattled you for a moment as you caught your breath, but you recovered enough to lean back in your seat. Your eyes met Jackson’s directly after he wiped his face with his shirt. “Tommy” stood off to the side behind his partner. He’d looked away when you were hit.

You focused on the other man, Jackson. He was wearing black cargo pants to match his boots, and a belt with a gun on his hip. He carried himself like a trained killer.

“Military, government agency, or private sector?” you asked.

His head tilted. He studied you, just like you were studying him.

“None of the above really,” he said. “Not anymore.”

He walked over to the fold out table, where he grabbed a black bag and unzipped it. A flash of silver gleamed as he pulled out one sharp instrument after the next. You had to hide your apprehension, and fear that made your insides tremble.

He glanced over at you.

“Let’s get started,” he said.

Hours later, you were teetering on the edge of consciousness.

After the last hit, you spat a wad of phlegm and blood onto Jackson’s shoes. He rotated the ache out of his hand. He looked down at you through furrowed brows.

“Damn, bitch,” he said, catching his breath. “You can take a hit. I’ll give you that.”

“My dad was a Marine, numb nuts,” you managed to reply, through labored breaths. “He used to hit harder with his open hand than all the strength in that limp-dick wrist of yours.”

Jackson smirked. “Christ. Daddy issues, huh? Why doesn’t that surprise me.”

You gave him a droll look. Again, to cover your fear, because you weren’t willing to give him the satisfaction of seeing it.

Angered and frustrated by that defiance, he reached down and grabbed your neck and jaw with one hand. You winced at the force of his grip, but when he started squeezing, this was the one thing that made you truly whimper. You tried not to think about the ghost of your father’s hand around your neck.

“Don’t you get it, asshole?” you gritted out while struggling for breath. “You can’t kill him. No one can. Stronger, smarter people than you have tried.”

Moments ticked by while Jackson contemplated your words.

Then he released you. You sucked in gulps of air and tried not to cough out a lung.

“Maybe,” he said. “But Soldier Boy’s got a weakness. If anyone knows it, I’ve got a feeling it’s you.”

You can’t say anything. You can’t, you can’t, you can’t.

That had been your mantra for every minute you had spent in this hole. You shook your head.

“Look, Jackson.” You sucked in another breath to steady yourself, and blink a drip of blood out of your eyes. “He’s going to kill you. You and your brother. Take your family and run, while you’ve still got a chance.”

“…You know what? You’re probably right,” Jackson said, scratching the back of his head with his crimson-stained hand. “But I just realized something.”

He leaned down again, until he was level with your face.

“When he finds you, drowned in your own goddamn blood…I think the look on his face might just be enough for me.”

Your eyes widened.

It took days. Three painful days to pick up the threads, which led closer to home than anyone could’ve anticipated.

Grace Mallory put pressure across the chain of command, and even reached out to the FBI for assistance. An alert email finally came to her phone, and she realized that an agent on her own payroll had been flagged for never reporting back for his debriefing on a reconnaissance mission.

That agent was Jackson Rawlins.

The further she read into his file, the worse her frown became. She immediately sent the lead to Ben, Butcher, and the rest of the team to run down. For the first time in years, Grace actually prayed.

She prayed that they would reach you in time. It wasn’t until then that she realized it; she hadn’t thought of you as a cog in her system for some time now—not even as leverage against Soldier Boy. She was genuinely concerned about you.

Grace worried that she was setting herself up for disappointment…if it was too late. However, she also worried about what would happen if you didn’t survive. She considered how Ben might react, with that nuclear power within him that he was still learning to control. The consequences of this mission could very well be catastrophic.

You were losing track of time in this windowless pit. You knew it had been days, but you didn’t remember how many. The cellar was cold, and the way sound and air traveled, it felt like you were underground. It certainly smelled like it—damp and gross. It made you certain this was a sewer.

Now this is Satan’s ass crack, you thought. You winced at the pain that radiated…pretty much everywhere. Blood had dried from various lacerations across your face, neck, chest, and arms, and bruises were dark against your skin.

Your blouse was in tatters, and your jeans had bleeding rips as well, though at least he’d kept your ankle boots on. You were too weak even for hunger. And a large, heavy chain attached to manacles on your wrists had replaced the zip ties. One end of the chain was fastened between the wall and a line of plumbing.

Footsteps echoed down the hall behind you. You closed your eyes and steeled yourself.

“Are we actually gonna have a conversation today?” Jackson asked.

“Depends,” you replied, your voice dry and coarse. “Are you going to tell me why you hate Ben so much?”

An angry sigh escaped Jackson’s lips. He pointed up in frustration.

“Ben.” Jackson rolled and cracked his neck, like just the mention of your boyfriend’s real name was disgusting to this man.

“You talk about him like he’s a real fucking person. Not like the animal supe he is,” he said.

“He is a person,” you said, both in exhaustion, and in pain. “And he’s trying to be better. Look, he’s done terrible things. I’m not saying he hasn’t. I don’t know what he’s done to you in the past, but—”

Jackson shut you up with a sharp backhand. It made black spots encroach on your vision as you caught your breath.

You noticed his brother Tom come in the room as well, to watch and worry. He didn’t seem comfortable with this way of things. He looked like a civilian. Maybe you could use that to your advantage…

But you lost track of thought after that, when Jackson started in on you with either his hands, or the creativity of the instruments on the table nearby.

You tried to block out the pain, along with his questions about Ben. If you couldn’t talk about him, you couldn’t let yourself think about him. So you couldn’t say anything.

Not about the Novichok nerve agent, one of the few things that had been found to incapacitate him. Not his imprisonment by Vought or the S.A.—nothing that your captor could one day use against Ben.

You can’t. You can’t. You can’t.

Even though all you wanted right now was him.

Ben, please…

You zoned in and out of consciousness from there.

When you next registered being awake, mercifully, you were left alone. You raised your head when Tom came to blot at least some of your wounds and give you water. You’d only eaten small pieces of protein bars for days.

“I’m sorry,” Tom whispered.

“Why does he want Ben?” you wheezed. “Why are you going along with this if you’re so damn sorry?”

Tom looked up at you with pain and grief in his blue eyes. He sighed and dragged a nearby chair from the table. He sat beside you while he fed you half a protein bar. It was a struggle to even get the pieces down.

“Last year,” said Tom, clearing his throat. “I lived in the building that Soldier Boy blew up when he got back from…wherever the Russians had him.”

Your eyes widened as you processed that. “You…but you made it out. Why—”

“I wasn’t home. I was at work,” Tom said. His voice was pained as his eyes became red and glassy. “Our mom wasn’t so lucky.”

You sighed, closing your eyes.

“She was retired, and I was taking care of her,” Tom said. He wiped at his eyes and sniffed. “Jackson wasn’t here. He was on a mission in Colombia. Told me he was cleaning up some cartel shit.”

At that, you had a sneaking suspicion that coiled in your gut. Ben had left a bit of a mess when he peaced out of Colombia, with an entire plane filled with drugs and weapons from whatever cartel he’d infiltrated. (In his words, he’d cut the head off the snake.)

Grace told you she’d sent a team in to handle that mess…

“Your brother—who does he work for?” you asked. Though you had a feeling you knew the answer.

Tom seemed to read your understanding, and his face turned grim.

“The CIA,” he said.

Fuck, you grimaced. So not only had Ben been responsible for their mother’s death, but Jackson had been part of the team that cleaned up his mess in South America. It explained why Jackson was somehow able to find your information; Supe Affairs had become a subsect of the CIA, thanks to Grace.

“I didn’t know he was planning this. I swear to God. All he said was that he had a way to get at Soldier Boy,” Tom said. You let out a deep breath.

“I’m sorry for your loss. I really am,” you said. Tears welled up hot in your eyes. “But you need to let me go. For your own safety, believe me.”

You saw the guilt, the sadness, the regret on Tom’s face. The brief indecision was overtaken when he glanced down the hall. You knew then that he was more afraid of his own brother than he was willing to do the right thing.

Your tears spilled over, though you tried to breathe through it. You’d tried to save them for when you were alone, those seldom few, cold hours, but you were reaching your breaking point.

“Okay, before I go, do you have to use the bathroom?” Tom asked. There was a bucket in the corner, and Jackson preferred it away from the chair. It was the only time Tom was allowed to unchain you from the wall and let you stretch your legs.

Letting out an exhausted sigh, you nodded in agreement. It was humiliating to know you were going to have to do this yet again, in a bucket, with company. With the manacles still on your wrists, he brought you over to the “special” corner.

Tom sighed and looked away to give you some semblance of privacy.

That was when you used every scrap of energy you had left in you.

You grabbed the chain and yanked it out of his hands long enough to wrap it around his neck from behind. You cut off his sounds of strain and kicked out his knees, so he was forced to kneel on the ground.

You wrapped the rest of the chain around your thigh, giving you the leverage you needed to tighten your grip and choke him out, until he was unconscious. His body fell to the side, and you heaved for breath. Once again, there were black spots in your vision, but you did your best to blink them away.

Now set with determination, you made your way to the plastic table and searched for the key to your chains. After the manacles were unlocked, you rubbed at your raw wrists and rapidly scanned the room. Adrenaline pumped through your veins as you calculated which way you should go to try and escape.

There were three possibilities in this clearing under the sewer: left, right, or straight ahead. Every time Tom or Jackson emerged, it sounded like it was behind you. The chair was facing to the east, which meant you had to take the left tunnel.

You ran in that direction and tried to find a metal ladder that would take you to whatever manhole cover these guys had detached. Someone couldn’t just open up any of those iron plates without the right tools, from the inside or the outside.

You walked as fast as you could manage, even though your entire body protested in pain. Then finally, you saw a black duffel bag lying on the ground, against the wall. Next to it was a metal ladder that went all the way up to the top.

“Jackson, don’t!”

You heard Tom’s voice, but you felt the presence behind you too late. Jackson hit you in the back of the head with that damn baton, so hard that even he grimaced at how the sound echoed on the walls. You crumpled to the ground.

Jackson stood over you with a grim set to his face. He turned to his brother with a shake of his head.

“She’s a walking welt, and you couldn’t handle her?” he said.

“This is too much,” Tom said in worry. He bent down and held two fingers to your neck. He still felt a pulse, at least, but when he felt behind your head, he found blood. His hand shook as he stared at it.

“If you didn’t want in on this, you should’ve said so from the beginning,” said Jackson. He spun the baton in his hand and clipped the hilt to his belt, from a small metal loop on the end of it.

“You didn’t say anything about…about this!” Tom argued. He cleaned your blood off on his jacket.

Jackson regarded his brother with disappointment, and he hefted you up into his arms. Tom followed him back to their setup with your makeshift prison. There Jackson left you lying on the ground, and chained you back up by your wrists for good measure. He then literally and figuratively wiped his hands of you.

“Come on, we’re leaving,” he said. “For good this time.”

Tom looked at you, then his brother in shock. There was even emotion in his eyes.

“We’re leaving her to die,” he said, his voice unsteady. He knew then, that their mother wouldn't have wanted this in her name. If she saw both of them now, she wouldn't recognize them.

Jackson grabbed his younger brother where his neck met his shoulder. An iron grip.

“And what do you think Soldier Boy is going to do if he finds us?” Jackson asked. His gaze encouraged Tom to explore that reality for a moment.

Jackson nodded at your unconscious form. “Trust me, that bitch was never going to talk. But this is almost better.”

It wasn’t right, Tom thought. He knew it, deep in his heart, but he wasn’t strong like his brother, or even like you.

That was when they heard it. The rumble of engines dying and tires rolling overhead, dislodging a few stray pebbles and dust from the ceiling. Jackson’s eyes widened.

“Fuck!” he muttered. “All right, let’s go.”

Jackson forced his younger brother to leave the sewer with him, and leave you chained up on the floor.

Ben, Butcher, M.M., and Frenchie had done much of the legwork in tracking down Jackson Rawlins and his brother Tom (with help from Annie, Kimiko, and Hughie of course). Frenchie had found your likely location with a powerful thermal scanner, courtesy of Grace.

Now, they’d driven up to the wide alley in the city and blocked off all the exits on the block. Ben was the first to get his boots on the ground and stride toward the point of entry, where according to Frenchie’s scanners, more than one body was holed up in the sewer. He held his shield at his side and at the ready when the manhole cover loosened, and slid open.

A small gas bomb rolled out towards his feet, but it was just tear gas, not the kind of thing that could actually affect him. Ben picked up the little round ball of metal and crushed it in his hand. While the rest of the team dove for the oxygen masks stored in the car, Ben stalked forward.

Seeing the silhouette of a man, Ben threw his shield hard enough to rattle a supe.

Jackson Rawlins was thrown clean onto his back with a force that stole the breath from his lungs, even through his gas mask. It also broke half a dozen ribs. Ben was soon bearing on top of him and ripping off the mask.

Jackson cried out as remnants of the tear gas seared his eyes.

“Got us a runner!” Butcher shouted. He intercepted and grabbed up a second man who tried to escape. Tom Rawlins wasn’t the threat, but he still wasn’t going free. M.M. and Frenchie also dove down into the sewer to try and find you after they got their gas masks on.

Meanwhile, Ben hauled Jackson up by his neck and walked him back until he hit the brick wall beside a nail salon. Jackson grunted in pain. Every breath he took was now agonizing, thanks to his now battered and broken ribs.

“Where is she?” Ben demanded.

Jackson actually laughed in his face, despite his now bloodshot eyes.

“All you fucking supes are the same,” he said. “But you…you’re the worst. Quite literally, the original asshole. And what does the government do? What does the world do? Gives you a pass on decades of indiscretions, fuck ups, and straight up murder.”

Ben didn’t outwardly react, but he knew what Jackson’s problem was. He knew he killed the man’s family. Collateral damage—something that had caused Ben more than one argument with you in the past.

But he didn’t care.

He didn’t care, because all he could see in his mind’s eye was a metal bat hitting the back of your head and knocking you clean out. He saw you being taken against your will. Taken from him. And that, he couldn’t abide.

“Where. Is she?” Ben said, as his grip flexed around the other man’s neck. It would be easy. Easier than snapping a toothpick. And he warned, “Don’t make me fucking repeat myself.”

“Dead, probably,” Jackson spat, despite his red and bleary eyes. “Real tough bitch. I see why you’re fucking her…I had me a little taste myself.”

In that moment, Ben couldn’t compute.

His green eyes widened. His breath stilled.

Then his jaw clenched so tight that his teeth were grinding. A fire in his blood and behind his eyes, and fury that burned hot in his chest, almost giving it that nuclear glow.

His hand tightened and choked any salacious words Jackson might’ve spewed out next.

“He didn’t!” Tom shouted out. He was being restrained by Butcher. Ben glanced at them out of the corner of his eye.

“He didn’t touch her. Not like that,” Tom said. He looked sincere.

“Shut the fuck up, Tommy,” said his older brother.

It earned Ben’s attention back. Jackson had the look of a man who knew he was going to die either way.

Ben’s lips curled into a sneer. He took the man’s head with both hands, and slowly crushed his skull. The scream echoed between Ben’s ears, but he was only satisfied when Jackson’s lifeless body dropped at his feet.

He turned to the other Rawlins next.

Tom had screamed as well to watch his brother’s life ended before his eyes. He now stared straight into Soldier Boy’s, pleading wordlessly for his own life. Ben started toward him.

“Please,” Tom said. He tried twisting away from Butcher, who held firm to the man’s arm. The Brit knew all too well, the rage that Ben had in his blood.

“Ben,” Annie tried, and she even stepped forward. Butcher held a hand out against her with a knowing look. It wouldn’t be wise to stand in the way.

“Hey!” M.M. shouted up from down the open hatch of the sewer. “We found her! Need help getting her loose.”

Ben paused in his steps. Tom was shaking, lips trembling, petrified.

Tilting his head, Ben let out a subtle breath through his nose. He began to turn back toward the sewer.

At the last moment, however, he drew his gun and shot Tom Rawlins between the eyes. The man was dead before he hit the ground.

Annie and Hughie flinched, but Butcher and Kimiko weren’t surprised in the least.

Meanwhile, Ben made his way back towards M.M.’s voice, and into the sewer. He heard M.M. and Frenchie arguing about first aid and head wounds, the further in he went. Ben’s dark mood blackened even more along the way.

Once he reached them, he also reached you, held in M.M.’s arms as he cradled your head.

You were unconscious with your wrists locked into heavy chains. The furrow between Ben’s brows deepened, but he got down to his knees beside you and first, broke your chains. He guided you out of M.M.’s arms and into his own, making sure to support your head. Blood was already staining his half-glove and fingers.

It was then that he noticed the small crimson pool lying where your body had been, likely from the wound he could feel at the back of your head. Ben’s mouth trembled the slightest bit, mostly in anger as he drew himself back onto his feet. Your body was littered with bruises, cuts both shallow and deep made by what looked like a blade, and God knew what else.

“I had me a little taste myself,” Jackson had taunted.

No, Ben internally shook that thought from his mind. No, you hadn’t been touched like that, at least, according to the sniveling, cock-sucking brother.

But can you trust that little cunt’s word?

Ben briefly closed his eyes, pressing his lips to your forehead. He continued walking down the hall and towards the light and fresh air of the world above.

You’re gonna be just fine, he promised you, if just within the safety of his mind.

Yeah, you would be all right.

He was going to make sure of it.

AN: 🫣 I'm sorry...BUT, I can promise it will get better (eventually). First, it's going to get worse.

Next Time:

It was a slow process, and it hurt, but you managed to turn your head. You saw a man sitting in the corner with a laptop balanced on his lap. He typed with two fingers at a time, which reminded you of your grandfather. His brown hair fell over his furrowed brows, but his beard was well trimmed.

His head soon raised, possibly feeling the weight of your gaze. His eyes widened a fraction, and he hastily closed the laptop and set it down on his seat before he went to you. You frowned when he came to sit at your bedside, and even touched your cheek with a gentle hand.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he said. His voice was deep and smooth. “How’re you feeling?”

You didn’t have the energy to lean away from his hand, but you did give him a look of weary confusion.

“I…I don’t…who are you?” you asked.

▶️ Keep Reading: PART 2

Ko-Fi Me ☕

Break Me Down Masterlist

Soldier Boy Masterlist

Main Masterlist

BMD/Series Tag List (Part 1):

@deans-spinster-witch @this-is-me19 @waynes-multiverse @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @spalady26

@spnwoman @syrma-sensei @wirdbeimaufhebengebunden @muhahaha303 @123passwort

@mrsjenniferwinchester @lyarr24 @xoxovienna @lollag0w0 @globetrotter28

@nancymcl @ashbatz @secretdreamlandmentality @kristophalis @wonderland2022

@emily-winchester @shelh93 @sl33pylilbunny @spoonmynoodle @chernayawidow

@buckybarnes-1917 @asgardprincess97 @sometimes-i-sing @itsyellow @theonlymaninthesky

@kimberleymjw @is-this-a-febreze-commercial @iamsapphine @sanscas @se-fucking-hun

@lassie-bird @jessjad @yepimthatperson @fromcaintodean @stoneyggirl2

@spnfamily-j2 @im-a-slut-for-fluff @lacilou @venicesem @mimaria420

@tearsfortheyouth @agalliasi @chriszgirl92 @kazsrm67 @deansbbyx

406 notes · View notes

hiitsm · 4 months

Text

Transient Connection: A Meeting of Worlds

You meet a beautiful woman at your workplace, who isn't a professional actress like you.

Fluff

Note: I'm not very well-versed in the acting world, so it's not described in great detail.

Request here

You just stepped out of the small makeup trailer, ready to shoot a brief scene. However, you didn't know who you would be acting with. You were aware that a character would be making a cameo, but no one had informed you which character or which actor or actress would be playing the role. This lack of information left you feeling annoyed, as you needed to know for your preparations.

You practically sprint to your manager’s trailer and burst inside. "Valentina, I love you, but please tell me how I’m supposed to prepare without knowing some important key information," you say, your voice a bit raised, though unintentionally.

You’re just a little nervous. This is your first big movie, your first major role, and hopefully, your first big breakthrough. While you’re not entirely unknown as an actress, having played roles in small series, you've never been the lead. This is different, and you want everything to be perfect.

"It wasn’t finalized until just a little while ago. She almost got cold feet and didn’t want to do it anymore," your manager Valentina says, her attention focused on her managerial tasks. Valentina is more like a best friend to you, and her multitasking nature is something you've grown accustomed to.

"That's just great," you say, rolling your eyes sarcastically. The last thing you want is to play this role with an unprofessional actress who would rather not be there. You believe that someone who is fully committed deserves the role. But maybe that's just your selfishness talking.

"I think she’s a professional football player. Everyone on this set loves her, really," Valentina says, wiggling her eyebrows at you.

You walk over and playfully smack her arm. "Why would they hire a professional football player? Doesn’t she just want to play football?" you sigh heavily, worried. The last thing you want is for this to go badly because they chose a football player instead of an actual actress.

"Just have some faith in the writers and everyone else who thought this was a good idea. And be nice and kind, just like your mother taught you," Valentina says, pointing at you accusingly.

"I’m always nice and kind. And since when do you talk about my mother? You don’t like her," you retort, taking a bite of your banana to fill your stomach before heading on set for a few hours.

"We both don’t like your mother," Valentina adds, raising her eyebrows. "But she did teach you manners, so use them." With that, Valentina hops out of the van, and you follow right behind her.

"We will first have a reading with her and her manager, getting to meet them now," Valentina tells you, almost running, which is unusual for her. You think maybe the two of you will be late, because Valentina never runs.

"I did hear that she’s very pretty," Valentina turns her head towards you, waggling her eyebrows even more.

"Of course she is, Val. She's a professional football player," you reply, shrugging your shoulders a little. "Maybe she has a nice manager," you tease, and before you can add anything else, Valentina shoves you while you're running, almost causing you to trip.

"Ah, there are the two of you. We were already wondering where you were," you hear a man's voice say.

You find yourself staring into a pair of beautifully greenish eyes.

That's not a man, you think.

Momentarily lost in their captivating gaze.

Where did the man's voice go?

Her eyes are stunning, and you can't seem to look away. Lost in your thoughts and dreams, you only snap back to reality when the man's voice returns.

"Hello, my name is Joseph, and this is Alexia," he says, indicating the woman with the enchanting eyes.

Ah, there's the man. Her manager.

Valentine nudges you slightly, bringing you out of your trance. You extend your hand for Alexia to shake, then Joseph's. "Hi, my name is y/n," you say a little sheepishly, feeling completely out of character. But as soon as you notice, you push the feeling aside, eager to make a good impression.

Valentine talks all three of your heads off, explaining a little bit to each of you as you walk to get the reading done. Alexia is walking beside you, and when you glance down at her hands, you notice they shake a little. You assume it's from nerves, and an urge to help her feel more at ease washes over you.

"Have you ever done something like this before?" you ask her softly. She blushes a little, quickly becoming shy. "No, this is all new for me," she says, with a hint of irritation.

You realize she probably doesn't want to be here, she just wants to play football. "You want to be back on the football field again soon?" you inquire quietly, careful not to overstep.

"Si, but we're in America right now, and my favorite football field is in Barcelona," she replies, her confidence growing at the mention of Barcelona.

"I love Barcelona. When I'm off, I love to go there," you share with a smile, watching as her eyes light up. You decide quickly that you want to see her eyes like that more often.

"Barcelona is great. I'm glad you like it already," she responds, wearing a huge smile, visibly more at ease.

"We both flew in only a few hours ago, so we are both a little bit jet-lagged. We have a strict schedule, in four hours, we need to get on the plane again because she has an important match in two days," Joseph tells Valentine.

You almost feel sad hearing this. You only have a few hours with her. But you can't dwell on it, right? You're a professional actress playing a scene with a professional football player who is now dabbling in acting. It's only professional to play the scene and part ways again after.

"The two of you can prepare for you seen there" Valentine's points to the secluded beach. It was be a beach scene anyway. Just a small talk scene. But you still notice that Alexia is appearing very anxious so you will still try and do you best to ease her nerves.

"The two of you can prepare for your scene over there," Valentine says, pointing to the secluded beach. It was going to be a beach scene anyway, just a small talk scene. However, you still notice that Alexia appears very anxious, so you resolve to do your best to ease her nerves.

The two of you walk over to the beach and start a small conversation. "So, if you're a professional footballer, what brings you to acting today?" you ask, hoping your tone sounds as kind as you intend.

"Just for the brand," she replies curtly, but you sense there's more she wants to say, though the words don't come out.

"That's nice," you respond, unsure of what else to add.

"I just want to play football, but this is part of it too," she says, her gaze shifting to the waves crashing onto the shore.

"I understand that a little bit. I love to act, but I don't love the interviews and all the promotion stuff that comes with it," you admit a bit shyly. This woman makes you feel shy, which is unusual for you.

"Yeah, I feel the same," she says, finally meeting your eyes again and giving you a big smile.

As you arrive at the beach, you initially wanted to offer her some acting tips, but you realize she's doing really well. The only issue is that she's a bit shy and awkward. However, with the preparation time you have, you know it's going to be okay.

The two of you were feeling at ease in each other's company, chatting about everything and nothing, and laughing a lot. She made you feel special, a different kind of special. After a while, Alexia received a phone call. You could only see a lion emoji as the caller ID, no name.

"Lo siento, that's my best friend," she said as she picked up the FaceTime call.

"Hola Ale, have you made a move on her yet?" you heard through the phone, and Alexia's cheeks turned bright red. "I mean, you love that show and you always tell me how good she looks," her best friend added, unaware that you were sitting right beside her.

"No, sí, no, ella está sentada a mi lado, idiota," she responded, switching to Spanish in her embarrassment.

"Well, just to let you know, she just picked up all her stuff from your apartment. I just wanted to tell you. Have fun!" And with that, the phone call ended abruptly.

There was a moment of silence between you two—comfortable for you, but maybe not for Alexia. You tried to break the silence without crossing any boundaries. "So, who picked up stuff from your apartment?" you asked quietly, hoping not to be too direct.

"My ex-girlfriend," she replied softly, and you noticed she wasn't ready to discuss it further. The silence settled in again. After a little while, you saw a tear streaming down the right side of her face. "Is this okay?" you asked, moving your finger toward her cheek to wipe it away.

"Sí," she said, looking out toward the shore. "Lo siento, she just hurt me a lot," she whispered, barely audible.

"It's okay to let yourself feel your feelings," you said gently.

"But I don't want to feel so sad anymore," she whispered again.

"You know what usually helps me feel a bit better?" you asked, and she shook her head softly. "Dancing on the beach. Come on."

You put a random song on your phone and started to dance. Alexia looked up at you with wide eyes, then a bright smile spread across her face as she watched you dancing so silly, so freely, so uncaring of what anyone might think.

"Come on," you encouraged, holding out your hand for her to grab. She finally took it, and both of you ignored the tingling sensation that passed between you. But you both felt it.

You didn't let go of her hand, and the two of you danced freely to the music. You were laughing and smiling, feeling an unburdened joy. It was wonderful to see her eyes light up and her smile brighten the world around you. Hearing her laugh was like music itself, a melody of pure happiness. Watching her, so beautiful and full of life, you felt an incredible connection growing between you.

"Are you guys done?" you hear behind you. It's Valentina, and you give her an annoyed look. She smirks at you, clearly aware that you've caught feelings for the blonde professional footballer rather quickly.

"Just a second, we'll be right there," you say, gently pushing her away from the beach.

"Hurry up!" she playfully screams back at you. You roll your eyes, but when you turn around again, you're greeted by a breathtaking sunset you hadn't noticed before due to your dancing.

Alexia stands there, bathed in the warm glow, looking stunning. You wish you could do something, wish you had the courage to ask her to spend more time together. But you also know she's heartbroken, so you decide to give her the space she probably needs.

"The sunset looks beautiful," she tells you.

"Yes, it does. Do you want a picture?" you ask, and she nods excitedly.

It's a beautiful moment, and you secretly hope she'll share it on social media so you can see it again, maybe a thousand times more.

"Gracias," she says, grateful for the offer.

"Now, we should go shoot our scene." She grabs your arm and pulls you with her, and you follow, feeling a mix of excitement and nervousness.

Maybe a part 2 in the works if y'all want to?

#woso x reader #woso #woso community #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso one shot #mapi leon #mapi leon x reader #alexia putellas fanfic #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas #alexia putellas imagine #alexia putellas one shot

362 notes · View notes

indecisive-capricorn · 7 months

Text

Headcanons to Miguel O'Hara x Pregnant Reader:

WARNINGS: There will be a bit of angst, grief, mentions of child loss, but loads of fluff.

SUMMARY: Getting pregnant is one thing, but how will your beloved partner, Miguel O'Hara, react to it when he finds out? And how will he be like throughout your pregnancy?

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I have been noticing that for the last few months, the Miguel O'Hara imagines are decreasing and I am still very high in my reader phase for him, so in an attempt to feed my fellow still on high Miguel O'Hara lovers, I'll be posting several imagines or headcanons for him. Apologies if it's a little rough, been some time since I made a headcanon.

MASTERLIST: Feel free to check out my other works! :)

When you first found out you were pregnant, you were quite unsure what to do. It wasn't as if you were afraid that Miguel might abandon you or anything, but because of what had happened with Gabriella, you knew children was a very sensitive topic for him.

You had talked with Miguel in the past about children and he considered the possibility of having children with you in the future but he didn't feel as if he was ready for kids yet. He was still grieving over Gabriella and you didn't blame him. She was his kid and no parent should ever have to endure the feeling of losing their child, but he has to and it was a scar that he would bring along with him throughout his life.

That was the reason why you are quite nervous to tell Miguel the news and you actually tried to keep it hidden from him for some time. You managed to do a good job at it but it also made you accidentally distant yourself from Miguel too.

Miguel was quick to catch on that something was wrong. Look, you can be the greatest liar in the world and he will still manage to find out your deepest secrets without needing you to tell him any of them. But even before you distant yourself from him, Miguel was able to sense the changes your body was going through. He wasn't precisely sure what it was but he knew something was different and you could blame it on his spider senses for giving him the ability to know that.

Miguel thought you were on your period at first and needed space, but he grew suspicious when your behaviour still had't changed after a few weeks.

And that was when he decided to confront you about your behaviour. He missed your light touches, your cuddles and your daily kisses, especially the cheek kisses you usually give him every morning before going to work or before going on a long mission. He missed pulling you into his arms while sleeping in bed with you, only to have you scooting to the far side of the bed the last few weeks. He missed you so much and he was hurt by your actions as well.

Even with how nervous you were, you didn't want to hide the truth from Miguel any longer, so you told him about your pregnancy.

Shock was an absolute understandment to describe Miguel's reaction to the news. Like, all the signs of your pregnancy the past few weeks came up to him in large capital letters. He should've known from it all but then again, even if you were already displaying a small baby bump, Miguel would only believe it once you actually said it to him.

Miguel would be happy next and he'll be kissing your cheek. He'll say that it is a wonderful news and would ask you for more details about the pregnancy and the baby's health. He'll be quite joyful about it but you knew that there was more to it than that.

You knew your partner better than anyone in the multi-verse and you knew for a fact that while Miguel was more than happy and excited about the news, you also knew that Miguel felt very scared. He was scared that he might fail to protect you and the baby the same way he failed to protect Gabriella. He would swear to you on that day that no harm would ever come to you or the baby as long as he's alive, but it still didn't vanish the fear inside him.

It is something Miguel can't control. Ever since Gabriella died, Miguel had closed off almost everyone in order to protect himself from losing more loved ones. It changed when he met you. You had slowly but surely began to tear down his walls, and encourage him to fight his fears.

His fears continues to stay in him, but you are always there to assure and remind him that you and the baby will be with him for a very, very long time.

After he has gotten over his initial worries and fears, Miguel will be celebrating the news with you. It could be going to your favourite restaurant for dinner or even something as simple as going to the park for a walk and get ice cream. It didn't matter how they celebrate it as long as his beautiful baby mama is happy.

Miguel is the type of person who reads every pregnancy book he can get his hands on. He'll also be taking notes of every word the doctor says during your pregnancy and Miguel will be the one to ask the doctor lots of questions in each appointment. The doctor might think you love to chat and talk about the baby but boy, Miguel could be bringing a whole damn book filled with questions about the baby and your pregnancy, and that wouldn't even be enough to stop him from asking. Miguel is actually tempted to get a personal doctor for you. The guy is filthy rich after all, but you protested against the idea and he decided not to. Of course, he'll secretly have a personal doctor in his contacts and if you ever found out about it, he'll just say it's a precaution.

Speaking of being filthy rich, when it comes to buying things for you and the baby, there is no budget. Before you were pregnant, you still somehow managed to convince him to give a limit when it comes to spending his money, but after he finds out you're pregnant? Yeah no, Miguel will be spending a shit ton of money because it's the love of his life and the mother of his child we're talking about here! He's not paying attention to the price tags, just paying attention to the quality because Miguel only wants the best of the best for his family.

One of the things Miguel knows is really important is quality time and throughout your pregnancy, he tries to be less at work. Miguel can't be out of work completely since the multi-verse needs him, but he can find people to cover his work while he's away to spend time with you.

Miguel is overprotective of you. He has always been protective and perhaps a tad possessive before, especially when there are other guys around, but he is much more protective when you're pregnant. Miguel knows you're not fragile. Hell, he worked with Jessica while she was heavily pregnant and she could have still easily beaten his ass. But there's this instinct that keeps on urging him to just be on guard all the time and because of it, Miguel is always on guard, unless you two are at home alone together.

Miguel adores your growing baby bump. It could still be a small one and Miguel would already be in love with it. He is always touching your stomach, either caressing it gently or leaving several kisses, and this continues on as it grows over time. Miguel's eyes will shine brightly whenever he feels the baby kick.

With that being said, every wish you make is Miguel's command. He will do anything and everything to make you as comfortable and relaxed as you can be. Swollen feets? Miguel's there to massage them. Late night cravings? Miguel's already on the way to the grocery store to buy the ingredients. Suddenly bursting into tears because of your hormones? Miguel's immediately there to comfort you.

Miguel doesn't usually like to take pictures but he tries to take some pictures of you throughout your pregnancy and put them all in a single photo album. He'll also put in the pictures that he had kept of each ultrasound appointment into the album. He does this so that one day when the baby is finally born and has grown much older, Miguel wants to be able to remember all the times of your pregnancy. The photo album is definitely one of his most cherished things and he'll be adding more pictures to it once the baby is born.

Overall, Miguel will be a little scared at first but he will always be very supportive of you throughout your pregnancy and try to be the best partner he can be to you and be the best father to your baby.

750 notes · View notes

lovelybluebirdie · 9 months

Text

The pale chef

Astarion x f!Reader

Summary: Astarion attempts to cook for you, but things don’t go as planned.

Word Count: 1,7k

A/N: I got the idea that Astarion naturally struggles with preparing food, so I had to write some fluff about it! Hope you enjoy :)

[ AO3 ]

Astarion stirred the pot in concentration, holding a wooden spoon in his hand and wondering what exactly he was doing here.

This whole endeavour resulted from your constant need to be nice to him, he thought with a sigh – apparently it made him want to be nice as well.

It started the other day when you mentioned how you would kill for a mushroom soup. At first he thought nothing of it, but for some reason the idea stuck to his head, so Astarion decided to roam the forest and gather some mushrooms. Unfortunately it turned out rather quickly that he lacked essential knowledge on the matter, so he had to consult Gale of all people.

Putting his pride aside, he asked through gritted teeth which ones were edible and which to avoid, since he had no desire to poison you by accident. Due to Gale being Gale, the wizard not only lectured him on different kinds of fungi, he had also given a detailed instruction on the soup’s recipe.

Astarion chuckled at the absurdity of the scene. He had never thought that one day he'd voluntarily prepare food for another person – and yet he found himself bending over the hearth and mixing different ingredients, hoping for the best.

He even wore an apron borrowed from said wizard, therefore he was more than glad that his companions had left for a supply run, while you were waiting in your shared tent so he could attempt this little surprise in solitude.

Gale's voice echoed in his mind: Chop the mushrooms, add them to the broth, stir until thickened, season with salt and pepper and sprinkle a few herbs on top – that’s it! Absolutely foolproof, even for someone who prefers to appease their hunger solely with blood.

The mushrooms had been the easiest part. His dexterous fingers cut them into perfectly bite-sized pieces, but Astarion bloody forgot how long the meal should rest on the fire.

Suddenly a burning smell lingered in the air, and he sensed in horror that the soup was boiling over.

“Fuck!” He grabbed the pot with haste and put it away from the heat.

Well, he thought as he gazed at the bubbling mass, that probably meant it was done.

With utmost care not to spill more of his precious loot, he grabbed a ladle and filled a large portion for you. If he already took the effort for such a novelty, you should at least get your belly full.

Astarion slipped out of the apron and made his way back to you. He assumed you were already growing impatient, as this entire affair had consumed far more time than he had anticipated.

“Hello, darling,” he purred when entering your tent, skilfully balancing the bowl in his hand.

“Finally! I thought you'd kept me waiting all night – wait, what's that?” You put the book you were reading aside and eyed the dish in his hands.

“I’m not quite sure myself, but according to Gale's recipe it should resemble a mushroom soup.”

Your eyes lit up. “Hold on – you prepared this for me? You know that’s my favourite, right?”

“I suppose I do.” Astarion offered you the soup with a coy smile. “Although you should remember that I’m not particularly versed in the culinary arts, so it might be best to treat this with caution.”

You took the bowl from his slender fingers. “Hah, let me be the judge of that! Besides, it was about damn time you returned the favour of feeding me for once, hm?”

“I couldn’t try it myself for obvious reasons, but I doubt that this could compete with your delicious blood,” Astarion replied jokingly and sat next to you, curiously watching as you sniffed the soup.

“Smells not bad…” you affirmed while blowing on the steaming broth resting on your spoon. “Now comes the delicate part – the taste test.”

The spoon disappeared in your mouth, and suddenly your face twisted into a grimace. You swallowed hard, a cough forcing its way through your pressed lips.

Astarion couldn’t help but snort over your clumsy attempt to keep the soup inside. “So – I sense I failed you miserably?”

“What? No – I mean, it’s not… terrible,” you stuttered. “It’s… Well – did you let it burn by chance?”

“Maybe.” He dragged out the syllables dramatically and shrugged. “Be honest, my dead heart surely can take it – shall we save this mess for Scratch and the owlbear?”

“Of course not!” you exclaimed with widened eyes. “I’m not hesitant to share, but not something you specially made for me. Also, some things tend to get better once you get used to the flavour, you know.”

Before Astarion could intervene, you put another spoon to your mouth and eagerly gulped it down, followed by a second and a third.

“There’s certainly room for improvement,” you eventually muttered with full cheeks, “but it’s not that bad.”

“I’m afraid you’re a poor liar, my love.” Astarion gently grasped your wrist to prevent you from taking another mouthful. “So please let me stop you right there, before you seriously upset your gut. I’m sure we can get you something more nutritious for the evening.” Then he took the spoon from your hand and put the bowl aside.

“If you insist,” you said with fondness in your eyes while wiping soup from the corner of your mouth. “But honestly – thank you, Astarion. This was… unexpectedly sweet.”

Heat rose to his ears as he rested his hand on your stomach, starting to draw circles. “Well, let's just hope my failed culinary attempt won't kill you tonight.”

“I guess in that case Lae’zel would avenge me, so you’d better start preparing yourself.”

“Mh… You think she’d stake me?” Astarion questioned and continued to caress your belly.

“Who knows what her creativity will lead to in the end. Knowing Lae’zel, she’d probably come up with something worse,” you pondered while tapping your chin. “But I guess you wouldn't let your preferred blood supply die that easily after all, would you?”

“Oh, don't sell yourself so short,” Astarion countered in feigned bewilderment. “You know that you mean way more to me than that.”

“Is that so?”

“Well, you also keep me warm at night, sparing me the coin for a thicker blanket. You know how expensive those things can get.”

You playfully raised an eyebrow, clearly not satisfied with his response. “And if you had to give a genuine answer this time?”

Astarion clicked his tongue and rolled his eyes. “I thought my sentiments were rather obvious by now.”

“And yet I don't seem to tire of hearing your appreciation for me,” you teased.

“Getting greedy now, aren’t we? Fine, you're ... quite decent. Despite your constant need to do something heroic, of course.”

You poked his shoulder and turned away with an exaggerated pout.

Astarion chuckled, before he cleared his throat. “Alright – perhaps you’re more than that.”

He drew you in his arms and breathed against your cheek. “One might also say you're the first person I truly came to care about. Deeply.”

Your lips brushed over his contours, searching for his own until you kissed him tenderly. “See? Wasn’t that hard, was it?”

Astarion rested a peck on your forehead and embraced you closer, a pleasant flutter spreading in his chest.

You were right, he thought as his lips curled into an affectionate smile – with you, everything seemed surprisingly easy these days.

The next morning Astarion woke to a rumbling. He opened his eyes and could only make out your silhouette as you hastily rushed outside, leaving the flap of your tent wide open.

“Love, are you alright?” he asked in concern and immediately got up to follow you.

“Don't worry, I’m fine,” you huffed under your breath.

Astarion knelt beside you in the grass and frowned. “Are you sure?”

“I said… it’s alright…” You gagged between your words. “But perhaps the soup… Ugh–”

“Don’t be stubborn,” Astarion said softly, when he noticed that you were still wearing his shirt from the other night. “And for the love of the gods – please be careful not to stain my clothes.”

“That's what you’re most concerned about right now?”

“No, of course not! But – That’s my favourite,” Astarion mumbled while he reached for your hair, smoothing it back over your shoulders.

“FANGS, what did you do to her?!” Karlach’s voice erupted like a thunderstorm from the other side of the camp as she spotted the two of you.

“Nothing – I only prepared some soup for her last night!”

“Shadowheart! Hurry up, we need you – Astarion poisoned our leader!” Karlach was already marching in the cleric's direction.

“What – no!” You both spoke almost simultaneously, causing you to laugh.

“I seem to have a sensible stomach,” you managed to add before retching again.

Astarion turned serious as he rested his hand on your back. “I'm terribly sorry, my love. That wasn’t meant to happen at all.”

You offered a weak smirk. “I know, and I appreciate the thought. Besides, that means your next dish can only improve.”

Astarion gazed at you in disbelief. “You’d consider letting me cook again after this entire debacle? Those mushrooms must have gone to your beautiful head.”

“Well, on second thought–” You couldn't finish your sentence as your stomach’s content finally emptied onto the grass.

Astarion felt a twist at his ribcage seeing you like this. “We’d better make sure I haven’t actually poisoned you, shall we? – SHADOWHEART! Get yourself over here – now!”

“I'M ON MY WAY!” Shadowheart shouted from afar.

“I think the worst is already over–” you began to explain, when another voice cut you off.

“Tsk’va! What is going on?” Lae’zel poked her head from her tent, obviously annoyed by the sudden tumult.

“Please, don’t let her stake me,” Astarion whispered and continued to stroke your back.

“Be glad that I love you, otherwise I’d probably let her get away with it this time,” you replied mischievously.

Astarion’s chest filled with warmth as he grasped for your hand. “My sweet, I truly am.” Then he bowed his head to place a kiss on your hair. “And I love you too. So much in fact, that I might consider forgiving you for ruining my shirt.”

You squeezed his hand and grinned. “Prick.”

Astarion returned your grin before his expression turned soft. “But honestly, I promise I’ll make this up to you.”

Next time he would surprise you with something less nauseating, he thought as his fingers entwined with yours – a safe choice like bringing another stray to your camp, or a nice perfume perhaps.

Masterlist

574 notes · View notes

chuunai · 9 months

Note

Hi hi! Would love to participate in your event if that’s cool

I was wondering if we could hav a Fyodor with scenario 2 and prompt 14

Idk if you want more details but I discovered your blog and I kinda got baby fever too sooooooo

Fire away friend

I’m sorry for making you sick : (

✧˚ · . my days are yours, yours - fyodor dostoevsky

how can a baby control his heart?

summary ⋆ ★ comfort, fluff, established relationship (marriage with reader), babies, babies and babies, SFW → minor mentions of death and overall fyodor trying to be a daddy while juggling killing the entire world. Spoilers for the last episode of BSD season five and the latest chapters of the manga.

Lord, she looked so much like him.

Rounded purple eyes and thick strands of black hair, she was his copy. Of course, genetically speaking, she was half his. And half yours. But Fyodor had a greater influence on your baby daughter. A squirming seven month old named Avdotya Fyodorovna Dostoevskya. Ironic, wasn’t it? That his child’s name meant good while he was evil?

It made sense, though. Yin and yang.

Putting down his pen, Fyodor looked over at the small makeshift crib that was next to his desk. In it was the sleeping Avdotya—Dunya, for short—wrapped up in cozy blankets and stuffed animals.

He’d worked enough for today.

Carefully picking up the newborn, his pale anemic hands cradled her, supporting her head as he held her to his chest. His heart sped up a bit when Dunya stirred a bit, but she ultimately didn’t wake up. She looked so calm and content in the moment. Fyodor shared the same feelings. Besides awe, of course.

For all of his planning and manipulation, he had never planned for a baby.

Sure, you were his wife, but he’d always use protection. An infant wouldn’t work with his current dangerous plans. Yet he somehow managed to knock you up. A completely unplanned variable in his plans. Yet it seemed so right. As a man of god, Fyodor couldn��t deny the blessing that God gave him.

His study door soon freaked open by your arrival as you quietly walked behind him, arms sliding around his neck in a tired way as your cheek pressed against the fluffy material of his ushanka.

“She’s doing okay?”

As if his little angel would ever be harmed.

“Of course, дорогой.”

He replied in an equally hushed tone. He turned his head slightly to the left, placing a gentle peck on your arm affectionately. For someone who regularly manipulated people who trusted him (albeit in a scared way), he could never find himself using you or his newfound family for his plans. God would disapprove of a man who hurt his family.

“You should rest. I’ll watch over her.”

It was only fair.

You had been watching Dunya constantly—babysitters and nannies couldn’t be hired due to his prolific crime record—while he was gone setting up his plans and relations. Fyodor had seen you cry over the stress multiple times. Each time he reassured you all would be better in due time. And it would be. When all the sinners of the world were gone, angels like you and Avdotya would be safe.

In the meantime though, he’d make you as happy as he could.

Feeling a gentle kiss on his cheek, Fyodor faintly smiled as you left for some much needed relaxation and sleep. Tucking his baby’s hair behind her tiny ears, he hummed a small lullaby.

He remembered that as a child his mother would sing some to him. It was one of the few comforting memories he had.

And his Avdotya should have the same experience.

Reaching the second verse of the lullaby, his deep voice quietly filled the room. He slowly rocked his baby, warmth flooding through his usually cold body. A peck on her perfect head.

He’d have to teach you these sorts of lullabies and cradle songs. While you knew a bit of Russian—limited to affectionate nicknames and general greetings—, you could do better. Perhaps you two could study together when Avdotya would nap. Him struggling with kanji, and you resting your head on his shoulder as you stared at Russian characters and committed them to memory.

Fyodor relaxed back into his chair, content with the familial moment.

The finale soon came.

He sat there for minutes afterwards, just taking in the sight of the life he created. Dazai was wrong. Fyodor was no demon, no, he was a god. He had created life, and so had God. And while others may point out the billions of other parents in the world, he’d merely dismiss their claims. They had birthed normal children.

Not an angel like his Dunya.

Could other children have such awe-inspiring eyes? Or the affinity she had for music just like her father—how she babbled and cooed in your lap while he played cello for the two of you. He knew she’d grow up to be something great like him. A firstborn always took after their father, in his opinion.

Standing up with little Avdotya in his arms, he walked to the nursery, passing by your shared bedroom where you were sleeping by now. Creaking open the door, he carefully navigated the dark room, lowering his daughter into her crib before carefully covering her with a warm blanket and her favorite stuffed toy.

A fuzzy penguin gifted by Sigma.

A lot of the nursery’s decorations were bought by Fyodor, but there were a few given by his fellow DOA members. Sadly, a majority of Nikolai’s gifts had to be scrapped. Dunya couldn’t use clown makeup or the miniature cherry bombs. A pity, really.

Fatherhood suited Fyodor rather well.

Flicking on a small nightlight, he soon left after a goodbye to his daughter. His footsteps pattered on the wooden floor, making his way to your bedroom to finally sleep off the day’s events.

Once again, the door slowly creaked open as he walked in. He already had his pajamas on—a baggy long black shirt and some black pants—, sliding into bed next to you as one hand found itself on your stomach, the other already playing with your hair. Fyodor admired your body. It grew his angel, and now it nourished her.

While you were adamant that you looked worse after birth, he could only say the opposite. All of the Renaissance paintings and sculptures had been wrong in their depictions of goddesses and heavenly figures. He could only see you as a true goddess who fell for a sinner like him.

Would such a goddess permit him to have another child with her?

Fyodor had grown up in a small family back in St. Petersburg. Just him and his mother. His father had left him long ago.

He didn’t want Avdotya to feel the same. Lonely.

Siblings would prevent that. Maybe two? Even three, if you felt up for it. He hadn’t said anything about it since you were still recovering and getting used to being a mother just to one child, but he oh so badly wanted a bigger family. More look a-likes of him and you.

“My goddess.”

His lips nuzzled against your hair, murmuring sweet affections and praise. Even he couldn’t have predicted such a thing like this. A wife. A daughter. A family of his own.

And even when weeks later he was stuck in Meursault with four other men playing Nikolai’s twisted game of escape, he thought about you. The plan would work, and he’d see you again after he faked his death. Sure, it might take weeks or months, but he’d come back. He’d made sure of it—having thought of the betrayal of his subordinates a while ago.

And when Dazai would later tug his severed arm out of the helicopter’s crash site, it wouldn’t have a ring on the ring finger.

That ring would be snugly set on his other hand.

They could take his body, his wealth, his intelligence.

But they couldn’t take him away from you and the vow you two had made. Until death do you part.

Tags: @twst-om-lover, @sinfulthoughtsposts, @xxcandlelightxx

Help this took so long

#bungou stray dogs #bungou gay dogs #aspiring writer #bsd x reader #bungo stray dogs x reader #chuunai #fanfic #fem reader #baby fever #baby fic #fyodor x reader #bsd fyodor #fyodor dostoyevsky bsd #bungou stray dogs fyodor #fyodor dostoevsky #bsd tag #bsd imagines #bsd fluff #bsd spoilers

476 notes · View notes

tinytennisskirt · 2 months

Text

small list of boyfriend art! who knows you like the back of his hand headcanons

- he can tell when you’re upset by something and if it’s not him, it’s usually easy to tell what did it. he pulls strings when he can to make sure you don’t run into anything you wouldn’t like. and if the problem is him he’s politely asking what he did wrong and ACTUALLY works on whatever it is you found upsetting.

he’s memorized all your regular food orders he knows what you like from where so if you say you’re craving something he usually heads out to get it for you, no questions asked or needed.

- he cooks for you. mostly pasta but it’s always really good. he knows that when you say you’re not in the mood for one thing that it means you’re in the mood for anything and there’s usually clues as to what means what. he knows them all and he’ll search up recipes if he needs to

- yeah he knows the movie you just watched back at your dorm room made you horny that’s why after a simple phone call you’re at the door to his room and he’s more than happy to help you ease frustrations, just tell him what to do. he knows how to everything just the way you need it, just ask.

- he knows when your time of the month is coming around and of course he’s the best about it. doesn’t mention it, just knows and just… has your favourite snacks lying around and there’s mysteriously a chocolate bar in your purse. he’s cute like that.

- he’s also ready with open arms when he knows you need it. he’s got all the blankets all the pillows and he knows when you’re going to want to come back to his dorm and crash into him. he’s more than ready to kiss the top of your head as you fall asleep on his chest.

- he knows your coffee order down to the last detail. or your drink order. basically every drink you could order he knows what it is and when you want it.

- he knows everyone you don’t like by face and name and he doesn’t like them either. just how it is.

- he knows your favourite everything. song, movie, book, food, drink, celebrity, ice cream flavour, etc. he’s good at remembering all of the small stuff- your favourite crystal, what kind of metal you prefer in jewelry, your minor allergies, the allergies of your family members as well as their birthdays.

- he knows your mom’s favourite flower and your dad’ favourite golf club. he knows the snacks your siblings like and what games they like to play.

- he knows when you need silence. he’ll be wordless and easy. bring you a cup of water or whatever drink he knows you’re feeling and sit beside you while you’re doing whatever task you’re doing. and he knows when you need music and dancing and laughter. he’ll bring that to you if it’s that kind of day. he just knows you.

to be loved is to be known and he knows you so well. he is fluent in your body language, he is well-versed in reading you. he is your best friend and he’s so in love with you, so of course he knows it all. remembers it all.

#challengers #art donaldson #art donaldson headcanons #boyfriend! art donaldson #boyfriend material #art donaldson fluff #challengers x reader #art donaldson x reader

228 notes · View notes

rwrbficrecs · 3 months

Text

The Monarch Haven by @redlightsandicedtea (book-verse)

@na-dineee: I found this fic through @lieselsart's wonderful illustration. Alex isn't the First Son, but his parents are high-ranking politicians. Due to serious mental health issues, he lives secluded in Texas, where he runs a mental health refuge for teens— the Monarch Haven. Secluded, until a real prince seeks refuge there. Alex isn't thrilled but still wants to help. What follows is 76k words of slow burn and domesticity! It's beautifully angsty, with a gradual and moving development. A total comfort read !!

Whiteout by HarmonyWhitlock (book-verse)

@na-dineee: Snowboarder Alex and skier Henry almost collide on the slopes, followed by a heated exchange of words. At the end of the day though, they meet at the bar and, well... This story is part of a series which is all about the CMQ-influenced trope 'In every universe'. I got all giddy with every beautiful story I read: So carefully composed and very well crafted, the emotions and attraction swept me away. Hopefully many more to come !!

I Want Candy by @vanillahigh00 (book-verse)

@suseagull04: Alex as a dad and Henry's house being his daughter's first stop on her quest for Halloween candy are the ingredients to this very sweet fic!

Tiempo de Vals by @14carrotghoul (book-verse)

@suseagull04: Authentic Hispanic details (that are always one of my favorite things about this author's writing), a high school AU, and firstprince dancing- what's not to love?

Workin' On My Fitness by bananamilks (book-verse)

@na-dineee: After gushing to Pez about how hot fitness trainer Alex on Instagram is, he is actually indignant when Pez gives him a gift certificate for a training package to reach his (decidedly not) fitness goal: to be able to lift hot men onto countertops. As always, these two have the hots for each other. And the story around it is really sweet, two seconds angsty, also funny, and just delightful.

If U Seek Amy by @14carrotghoul (book-verse)

@dot524: Such a cute and meaningful 5+1 centering on Amy Chen and how she views the different members of the First Family. Love an outsider PoV and the sweet moments in this one.

Adrift by @milowren29 (book-verse)

@read-and-write-: An addicting pacific rim AU. I don't even go here and I fully enjoyed it, packed with action, life-threatening monsters and alex-and-henry typical obliviousness and refusal to talk about their feelings which is y'know, canon. Everyone needs to give an opportunity to this one.

In Plain Sight You Hid by @nontoxic-writes (movie-verse)

@dot524: Ever reflect deeply on why everyone hates Miguel? This story fleshes out what he did to Alex and expands on what happened during that hookup and what it had to do with Henry. This is also a study of Alex’s relationship with Henry and what made it special. An insightful and angsty (and sexy) addition to the movie canon.

the beagle, the ghost, and the wardrobe by @dumbpeachjuice (book-verse)

@suseagull04: I was immediately intrigued by this fic title's Chronicles of Narnia inspiration, and the fic itself didn't disappoint! Ghost Alex, star-crossed lovers- what more could you ask for?

Jump in with your heart first by @dumbpeachjuice (book-verse)

@suseagull04: This is a blind date that, despite a hiccup or two along the way, will make you believe in soulmates!

Foxden Park by @myheartalivewrites (book-verse)

@dot524: Really enjoyed the slow burn of this one as the story unfolded. So many fun scenes - horse riding, canoeing, sneaky rendezvous in the library. An addicting, enjoyable read!

check out our past Monthly Faves here ❤️

#monthly faves #rwrb fic recs #firstprince #firstprince fic recs #red white and royal blue

179 notes · View notes

seokjinsonlyone · 2 years

Text

this how i think bts would be if you both knew you liked each other but you weren’t dating yet

a/n: you guys been looking forward to this one hope it lives up to your expectations 🥹👉👈 and you should like totally lemme know what you thought about it after you're done

namjoon:

calls you on the phone every night; asks about your day and genuinely wants to know every little detail no matter how insignificant; gets shy when you ask about his

always extends an invite to you to join him at a museum; he goes to so many so often so he understands if you can’t go every time but he really likes it when you can go; likes hearing your thoughts on different pieces no matter how ridiculous bc you’re really not that well versed in art and architecture; he also likes the look in your eye and how intently you listen to him when he actually explains the intent behind the art

wraps his arms all the way around you, completely engulfing you when you hug; gives you an extra squeeze and rubs circles on your lower back before letting go

pet names start slipping out willy nilly; beautiful, princess, pretty girl, lovely; like the more and longer he likes you the less your name come out his mouth

he got mad rizz dog; like everyone once in a while he's gonna hit you with a pick up line that catches you off guard; gon have you giggling and blushing; but he also will be giggling and blushing afterward bc he gets shy after being cute

lowkey wants your approval for everything; doesn’t NEED it but he’d like it tho for sure; like would let you listen to his unreleased music and wait with bated breath while you listened until you gushed about how good it all was

if someone came up to him while y’all were hanging out and started flirting with him he would not notice at all; you’d wait until he was done carrying on the conversation and (semi)jokingly be like “so when’s the date” and he’d be soooo confused; “huh?” “they were totally flirting with you!” “really?” “if they smiled any harder they cheeks would’ve split open and did you see how hard they were laughing? you not that funny joon 🙄” “i’m sorry i didn’t notice. i promise i wasn’t flirting back tho. the only person i wanna flirt with is you.”

seokjin:

turns red whenever you’re around; like just constantly feels called out even if no one said anything bc it’s like he knows how he feels, all his friends know how he feels, and most importantly you know how he feels; embarazzing

becomes your local fruit dealer; like whenever his family or friends give him a bunch of produce from their various farms you’re definitely on the list of people he gifts them too; he gives you a bigger share than his members too <3

sends you pictures of the food he cooks and always saves you a plate after hearing you talk about how good it looks

asks for your switch code and invites you to play games with him whenever he has down time; like will stay up to 4am playing mario strikers or nintendo switch sports with you

gets really good at origami bc one time you met up and he felt awkward not having anything to get you so he used the gum wrapper in his pocket to make you a paper airplane; now every time you meet up he has a new paper sculpture; like you end up with a whole drawer of paper hats, planes, cups, flowers, frogs, ninja stars; has a cute little message written inside that makes you smile each time you unfold them

overly helpful; like he tryna do whatever he can for you; he’s holding your bag, opening doors for you, at one point he even goes so far as to lay his jacket on the bench y’all sitting on so your butt won’t be cold 💀

his number one goal when y’all are around each other is to make you laugh; like it doesn’t really matter if you’re laughing with him or at him as long as he hears that cackle he considers the interaction a success

yoongi:

not used to initiating any kind of interaction (outside of work) with people so he just lingers around you and hopes something happens; takes you a while to realize that’s his way of asking for attention

pretty much willing to go along with whatever to make you happy; like if you were complaining about never having anyone to go to the store with he’d offer himself up so fast and that’s how you’d end up with him in ulta helping you pick out lashes

has to get scolded by seokjin repeatedly bc the one text he sent him in the past month was left on read but he replies to you almost immediately every time you message him

silently takes care of you; like if you were eating together and got choked up on something he's just gonna get up and get you a bottle of water then slide it over without ever looking you in the eye; or if you complained about your hands being cold he'd start carrying around those hand warmer pouch thingies waiting for the next time you said something then he'd just put them in your pocket

starts opening up to you 🥺

it may not last for long but when you’re speaking with him he’ll look directly into your eyes

his hands flinch a lot when you're around; sometimes he's just hit with the inexplicable urge to hold your hand or touch you in some sort of way but he hasn't quite figured out y'all's dynamic yet so he's afraid to go for it

hoseok:

becomes zendayafied; like if you think it’s bad with jimin… you ain’t seen the worst of it; you might as well be richard pryor at the apollo the way he be cracking up over any and every little thing you do; his laugh can be heard halfway across the world

he stalks your ig page and replies to all your stories with a series of emojis; shows them to his friends and goes on and on about how cute you are

sends you a bouquet of flowers and texts you a little later on asking if you got them so you send him a picture of you holding them and he responds “☹️ i was hoping you’d be in the pic but all i see are flowers”

notices the little things about you; like he’s the type to compliment your earrings or your nail color

thinks everything you do is like super great; like if you drew a little doodle on a post it note or something he's gonna keep it and in his phone case; like 100% the type to actually display a painting you did in his house even if you feel like it looks like an 8 year old did it

has a special hyper focus on you; i just imagine y'all being at a party and you're in a group and he's being hobi ya know chopping it up with everyone kekeing and the like and you could be there next to him but not really actively participating in the conversation but if you tried to slip away to like get a drink or whatever he would grab your wrist and licherally stop mid sentence to ask you where you were going; would leave the group to go do whatever you wanted to do as well

adds a bunch of heart emojis to your contact in his phone; [yn ❤️😍💜🥰💞😘💖🤩💓😚💘]

jimin:

buys you a scarf when it gets chilly bc he notices you never have one on and he doesn’t want you to catch a cold; personally wraps it around your neck himself before you go outside

perpetual flirt; like there's some kind of innuendo to everything he says to you

is able to pick up on your moods scary easily so he knows when you’re a bit off and lets you know he’s willing to listen if u wanna talk; whether you choose to take him up on his offer or not he gives a really big, tight, long hug which helps you out more than you’re willing to admit

is easily flustered by you; like if you told him you liked his hair or his sweater or something he's gonna do that thing he does where he looks down, smiles, and then hides his face

always trying to impress you; like if you told him you admired people who were good at art he finna brush up on his skills a little and then next time you see him he gon have a sketch pad in fron t of him doing some crazy doodles; or if you told him you liked his voice when you're around he'll be acting like he's being nonchalant playing it cool but be putting in mad effort humming one of your favorite songs adding in some jazmine sullivan type runs

tries to meet up with you as much as possible; like your presence is addicting to him and he wants to take in all that he can; definitely calls you at some point if he can't see you that day even if it's like 1am and you're definitely asleep he's gonna chance it and call you; "are you awake?" "no" "oh i'm sorry i'm sorry i just missed you today" "missed you too mini" "i bet you looked pretty" "thank you but you have to let me get back to sleep" "alright alright imma let you go but one more question" "what's up?" *starts giggling* "what are you wearing right now?😏" "😐 i'm hanging up" *giggles even harder* "okay okay i'm done i'm sorry for waking you sleep tight beautiful" "night mini"; and then he's awake for another hour and a half staring at the ceiling with a big smile on his face thinking about how much he likes you

always walks you to your door when he's dropping you off home and won't leave until you inside with the door closed even if you insist on seeing him off as well so you just gotta watch him walk off from the window

taehyung:

gets shy after complimenting you; the “you look really pretty today” to tata mic face pipeline is strong

goes out of his way to find out when you'll be at certain places and then acts like it's a coincidence when y'all run into each other

feels all tingly inside when you like something he recommended; like if he recommended you a song and you listened to it later and then texted him about how much you loved it you would not be able to wipe the grin off his face

he fishes for compliments from you; like will get all dolled up in his 3 piece suit, hair slicked back just bc he knows you’ll be around and wants you to tell him he looks nice; if you don’t initiate it he will; will stand next to you and be like “ahh i just felt like wearing this today, it’s my favorite one. i think it looks nice. doesn’t it?”

squishes your cheeks between his hands when he deems you as being too cute

takes an active interest in your interests; like if you were really into some group and you told him about it he'd go and listen to their songs and send you his favorites and if they ever toured he's definitely getting y'all tickets to their show; or if you really liked to do paper mache or something he's gonna set aside a day for you to show him how to do it

has his arm around the back of your chair when y’all sit next to each other bc he can’t work up the nerve to actually put his arm around you

jungkook:

walks so close to you that your hand bumps together with every step; takes about five minutes of contemplation and hand flinching before he takes your hand in his; probably puts your conjoined hands in his pocket; looks down at you for about five seconds to gauge your reaction but quickly looks away when you make eye contact; tips of his ears are red the whole time

invites you over to play with his dogs, literally; no funny business is happening; he can’t be with you like that when he likes you as much as he does not until y’all are official just so he has confirmation that you’re on the same page

he be staring at you; like whenever you not looking at him he’s looking at you; watching, observing, admiring, mentally cataloguing all your little quirks, stockpiling them for a rainy day (re: waiting for the right time he can jokingly imitate you)

sometimes it feels like it’s one step forward two steps back with him bc every time he reaches what he feels is “the next level” he has to stop and reevaluate his feelings so he gets distant; but when he’s sure of how he feels again he goes back to following behind you like a lil puppy

his crush on you gets fatter whenever y’all are in a group conversation bc you always notice when he’s trying to say something but can’t find the right timing and create an opening for him to speak

always sits next to you; like there could be 10 empty seats in a room and he's always gonna jam himself as close to you as possible even if he doesn't plan on saying anything

y'all would have a couple late night convenience store dates; like y'all would be on the phone at like midnight talking about how you're craving ramen and snacks and next thing you know he's offering to pick you up and then you sitting next to him in da local 7/11 wit a cup ramen, a diet coke, and some sour gummy worms; he'd lightly gasp and go stiff for a second before relaxing a bit if you randomly laid your head on his shoulder after you finished your food complaining about how full and tired you were; would go back and forth with himself over whether he should just wrap his arm around you but ultimately just decides on leaning his head against yours in return

#bts #bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #kim namjoon fic #jungkook fanfic #jeon jungkook x reader #namjoon x reader #taehyung fanfic #seokjin fanfiction #kim seokjin x reader #yoongi x y/n #yoongi fanfic #yoongi fluff #hobi fic #j hope fanfic #hoseok x you #jimin fanfic #jimin x reader #kim taehyung x reader

3K notes · View notes

dwonfilm · 7 months

Text

There’s no life after you. | Dean Winchester x Reader (one-shot)

Summary: Dean felt like he had no other option than to push [Y/N] out of his life completely. When he and Sam find a case in her hometown, he’s hit with all of the emotions he’d tried for so long to bury.

Warnings: swearing, mild-angst, mostly sadness and ending with fluff.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Flashbacks are in bold.

Dean and Sam had found a case in Reno, Nevada—a city that had a lot of memories particularly for the older Winchester. Sure they’d worked a dozen or more cases around here over the years but that wasn’t the type of memories that kept playing on his mind. He only wished it was that simple. Sam had opted to take the backseat, needing some extra rest on the drive and Dean usually drove his precious ‘67 impala anyway. Ever since they’d found this case, the eldest Winchester was uneasy. Not because it was anything special, from the details online it seemed like it was just another vamps nest—maybe even just a handful travelling together.

No, what began to plague his mind was something that cut much deeper than that. All he could think about was you.

It had been roughly two years since he’d last seen you. Every other second of the last year and half had been him fighting the urge to reach out, knowing two things for certain. One: you’d be far better off without him holding you down. Two: even if that wasn’t the case, he’d really hurt you the last time you spoke and despite how much he missed you.. you’d likely never speak to him again—but that’s what he’d wanted right? You to move on, you to live a life that wasn’t plagued by the dangers of all things supernatural. Find a good man, a normal man, settle down.. get married and have kids. Not have to worry about tending to someone who had spent his entire life broken. Shaking his head to try and rid himself of these thoughts, it seemed the universe had other plans.

It seemed at some point in the drive his playlist had changed and delved into the ‘divorced dad rock’ side of things—the first few notes of what he recognized as a Daughtry song began to play. Seemingly just as they’d finally crossed the state lines into Nevada, the lyrics began..

“Ten miles from town and I just broke down, spitting out smoke on the side of the road. I’m out here alone, just trying to get home to tell you I was wrong but you already know. Believe me I won’t stop at nothing to see you so I’ve started running.”

Now Dean knew exactly what song this was and it damn sure wasn’t helping with his desperate need to stop thinking about you. He reached out to change the song but when the chorus hit, he stopped and his finger merely hovered above the button.

“All that I’m after is a life full of laughter, as long as I’m laughing with you—and I think that all that still matters is love ever after, after the life we’ve been through. ‘Cause I know there’s no life after you.”

It was as if the song was delivered down by the hand of God himself, which only made the ache in Dean’s heart that much worse. He’d been in pain ever since he left two years prior, but he had no right to be—he knew that. After all, the reason he didn’t have you by his side was because he left. It was because he walked away. Deeply he’d sigh as the next verse again would line up with the exact thought in his head.

“Last time we talked, the night that I walked burns like an iron in the back of my mind. I must have been high, to say you and I, weren’t meant to be and just wasting my time. Oh why did I ever doubt you? You know I would die here without you.”

Death had truly paled in comparison to how he felt seeing the look in your eyes. All of the pain, the hurt as he watched you break in front of his very eyes. You’d been together three years in total, but what you didn’t know—what he refused to tell you is that his worst fear was becoming a reality. Lucifer had threatened you in order to make Dean comply with his demand. He’d figured out the only way to get to the elder Winchester was through you, seeing as Lucifer himself needed Sam for his own personal vendettas. It wasn’t long after this that Dean knew he had to get as far away from you as possible. All the pain and suffering he’d endured in his lifetime would be nothing if your death was due to him. He couldn’t live with that and more importantly, you deserved more than that out of this life.

Sam began to stir in the backseat, which he’s caught sight of through the rear view mirror and so Dean quickly changed the station. He’d use Metallica specifically to shift the mood before his brother woke up and started asking too many questions. Questions that Dean wouldn’t have the answers to and he was already battling his mind to keep it all at bay.

Gripping Baby’s wheel tightly in his hands, he’d continue to path to Reno. About fifteen minutes later was when Sam’s eyes actually opened. “Mornin’ sleeping beauty.” Dean said with a (fake) smile on his face. “Ha-ha, very funny. Wait.. how long was I out? Are we in Nevada already?” He asked, rubbing the sleep from his eyes and noting their desert-like surroundings. “I don’t know, hours Sammy. Yeah we’re in Nevada—about an hour or two ‘til Reno.” Just saying the name of the city was enough to have him nervous again. There was a brief bit of silence between the brothers, Sam had a thought on the tip of his tongue but he didn’t know whether he should say it. Dean’s eyes had fixated on the road ahead and he sensed that his younger brother was gonna bring it up—bring you up, he’d always really liked you. Besides that, he could always seem to tell when things were troubling Dean despite his best efforts to hide it. “You know you could-“ Sam started but knowing it was coming, the elder brother immediately shut it down. “Sam, don’t. Please. I can’t and you know that.” Dean’s voice was shaky and that let him know that he’d already been thinking about things far too long. “You’ve been thinking about it. I know you, man. You think I didn’t see the look on your face when I told you we had something in Reno?” He sighed, knowing that his older brother was struggling with this didn’t make him feel good but he also knew it was making Dean feel worse. “Sammy, please.. I don’t wanna talk about it anymore.”

Sam would shake his head but he let it go, rehashing this with Dean while he was attempting to drive wasn’t gonna end well for either of them. Not to mention an hour and a half of odd tension in such a small place wasn’t ideal either. Instead, the younger brother’s eyes averted from the front of the car altogether as he turned to gaze out the window next to him. Sighing partially in relief and partially from the lingering thoughts, Dean would fully place his attention on the road and on the directions to this particular motel. They needed to get in, solve this case and get out before he did something he’d been trying for quite some time not to do.

Surprisingly this case was a little more difficult to follow through on, these vampires were incredibly elusive and their nest wasn’t the easiest to find. However, after a couple days lingering around they finally located the nest and were able to kill the three vamps that had been killing the locals. As it had become part of the job, Sam and Dean went out to a local dive bar to celebrate the victory—but Dean was trying to do more than that. He was trying to drown the lingering thoughts of you with whiskey, swallowing the liquid and letting it gently burn his throat. This would end up having the opposite effect and only made him think of you more. Over the first hour and change the brothers spent at the bar, three separate girls tried to hit on Dean but he didn’t really pay them any mind. Around the two hour mark the elder of the brothers decided he needed some air, getting up and walking outside. Dragging his dominant hand over his face he was doing anything to cling to that last bit of pride that he had. You were better off and he knew that, but every day that had been lost it was eating at him slowly. He needed a distraction and so he walked over to his precious car, getting into the driver’s seat and sighing. One flick of the wrist and the lights would come on, the radio coming in clear as day: it was that goddamn song again.

“You and I, right or wrong, there’s no other one. After this time spent alone it’s hard to believe that a man with sight could be so blind, thinking about the better times.. must’ve been out of my mind. So I’m running back to tell you.”

Again it seemed like the universe had intervened and Dean Winchester was far too drunk to fight it. Tears threatened to spill from his eyes and right now, all that he needed was you. He opened up the driver’s side door and got out just to come face to face with Sam, who had been worried when he couldn’t locate his brother in the bar. “What is it Dean?” He asked, noting the emotional state it was clear he was in—confused but not entirely. It wasn’t like him to be so open with his emotions, but you’d helped him with that. “I need to see her, Sammy. I can’t do this anymore.” There was enough emotion in his voice for his younger brother to know what he meant. Nodding Sam would approach the driver’s side door. “I’m driving, we’re not risking it with you.” Dean normally would protest but right now? All he needed to do was get to you. It didn’t matter how, he just needed to fill the void that he’d put there himself.

“All that I’m after is a life full of laughter, without you god knows what I’d do.”

Dean’s eyes were technically gazing out the window, but that’s not what he saw. His mind was flashing different images in rotation—one happy memory with you followed up by something he’d done to chase your memory away after he’d run away.

“All that I’m after is a life full of laughter, as long as I’m laughing with you and I think that all that still matters is love ever after—after the life we’ve been through. I know there’s no life after you.”

It seemed fast, but it had probably been about thirty minutes of time that had passed. Not that you lived very far at all, if you were even still at the last address the Winchesters had for you—Sam took a longer route hoping that Dean would sober up a little more before talking with you. Anyone would be able to smell the whiskey on him at this moment, but his words needed to be coherent if there was any chance of you hearing him out. It seemed that he had sort of the same idea because even when the impala had pulled into the driveway, he just sat there. “What if she doesn’t wanna talk?” Dean asked, somber tone to his voice as his eyes remained fixated on the front door of what he hoped was still your home. Mind racing almost as fast as his heart. “Dean, if I know anything about [Y/N], she’ll at least listen—even if she’s incredibly pissed and still hurt.” Sam reassured his older brother. Dean sighed again, not wanting to waste another second and also wanting to see have some alcohol in his system for this conversation. Slowly he opened the passenger side door and stepped out onto the asphalt driveway. Gently closing the door, it had still alerted a dog inside the home who was barking just a little bit every couple of seconds. He carried himself up the few cement steps, turning to see the front door closer than ever. Now more memories of the last time he was here were coming back.

“Dean, please.. why are you doing this? You can’t possibly just have stopped loving me, that’s not..” Her sobs were breaking his heart but he knew this was something he had to do. “Why are you walking away from this? From us? After everything we’ve been through.. after the life we’ve built from the ground up.. you’re just throwing it all away.” She felt as if there was a fire in your chest, she’d been sobbing so intensely for what seemed like forever. Mascara and eyeliner were smudged and made a mess of the space underneath her eyes. “Say something, Dean—please.. why are you pushing me away? What did I do?!” Every word became far more intense and the actual words were hard to discern from the sobs. Dean had just been staring at the floor since the words left his mouth. Three years next to her and he never imagined this day would come, but if you died just so Lucifer could get one up on him? He’d never survive. He’d never be able to carry the weight of your death or your blood on his hands—so this was the only way you got to live a long and happy life without him putting you in harm’s way. “[Y/N/N] I.. I just don’t think we were meant to work out. I’m sorry, I just-“ he was cut off by her intense sobs hearing him saying it again. “Please Dean.. don’t do this.. whatever I did wrong, whatever’s not working we can fix it. Please..” She pleaded, voice already hoarse from the crying and the wailing. “Sweetheart you didn’t do anything wrong. It’s me, I’m just, not made out for this relationship stuff.” He’d barely lifted his gaze again to meet her own, but only for a second. Seeing her like that was too hard for his heart to bare. “Why Dean.. please.. it’s been three years. Three years of this and we can talk about it. Whatever it is we can move past it together, don’t you love me anymore?” She sobbed out, arms wrapped around her own chest as Dean looked up to her face and met her gaze one last time. “Honey, I’ll love you ‘til the day I die.” Sighing he turned to walk out the front door, closing it and never looking back. He couldn’t look—his heart had already shattered.

Now here he was again, roughly two years later, taking the last few steps to fully stand at your front door. Lifting his hand which had formed a loose fist, he’d knock three times upon the wooden material of the door. There was no answer and no sign that anyone was home other than the dog barking that he’d heard moments prior. Dean was about to turn and walk back down the pathway when he heard the doorknob turning after the lock clicked out of position. “Do you know how late it is, what do you nee—“ her eyes widened when she realized who had just knocked at her door. “D-Dean.. what are you..” she felt her bottom lip quivering. Dean could tell this was the last thing she’d ever thought would happen. “Hi, sweetheart. I-“ before he could get another word out of his mouth, he was met with a harsh slap to the side of his face. His eyes fell as he collected his thoughts, waiting before speaking again. “I deserve that. I deserve that and so much more. [Y/N/N] I’m so sorry.. I’m so fucking sorry.” He got out, not being able to look back up at her just yet. “You’ve got some kind of nerve showing up here, this late at night.. Dean you broke my heart and you stomped on it to boot. Why do you think after two whole years that I’d listen to whatever the hell you have to say?” It was obvious that there was sadness and hurt laced within her voice, more so than the anger she’s trying to push forward. Slowly his head tilted back into its usual position and his eyes found hers again. “I know there’s no life after you.” It was all he could say in that second and her expression softened, before she’d built the wall back up. “You came all the way to quote a Daughtry song?”

“No, I’m quoting that damn song because for the three days Sam and I have been in Reno I’ve heard it everywhere. My car, in a store, hell in my head—[Y/N] I’ve been trying every day since I left to push your memory from my mind. I wanted so badly to forget about you and know that you were free to have a normal life. I also know that I’ve got no right to stand on your doorstep telling you how much pain I’ve been in since the second I walked out this door two years ago when this whole fucking thing is my fault.” He paused, tears slowly falling as he tried to blink them away. “[Y/N] I was afraid. I was so afraid.. I couldn’t lose you like that-“ Again he was cut off but just by her words this time. “Dean you did lose me, you pushed me away—fuck you pushed me out of your life altogether. You’re absolutely correct, you don’t have any right to stand here talking about your pain. I didn’t eat, I barely slept, for weeks after you left. All I did was lay on that couch and sob. Endlessly. After I couldn’t physically sob any more I thought, there has to be some kind of monster or witch doing this and so I researched for weeks and still barely ate and slept only a fraction more. All I came up with was dead end after dead end and so I finally had to realize the truth.” She sobbed out, pausing to try and steady her own voice. “You chose to leave on your own.” She’d opened her mouth to continue talking but now it was his turn to sob out, which caught her completely off guard. “He made me feel like I had no other choice..”

Now you stood with a perplexed look on your face as tears were streaming down your cheeks. “What.. who-“ before the question could even fully leave her lips, the man she loved began to speak again. “Lucifer. He needed Sammy, you know all that one true vessel shit, so he couldn’t hurt me that way. He knew any threat he put to Sam wouldn’t stick because deep down I knew that Lucifer needed Sam alive and well to complete whatever sick and twisted plan he had thought out.” She felt both her heart and her stomach drop, figuring out exactly where this was going. “[Y/N] he said he’d kill you and not think twice. I couldn’t.. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if you died all because I love you. I wouldn’t be able to breathe knowing that your death was my fault and I’d never get your blood off my hands.” His confidence had wavered, the alcohol mostly wearing off. You sighed, a silence falling over the two of you as you attempted to process what he’d just said. “Dean.. why didn’t you just talk to me? Tell me what he said and we could’ve talked about it.” She asked, the venom gone from her words and a sadness settling over them. “I was scared. I didn’t know how to admit that I was scared especially to you, I’m the one that was supposed to keep you safe. I know that’s not an excuse and I’m not trying to excuse me hurting you like I did—that image of you hugging yourself and crying the hardest I’d ever seen someone cry has haunted me all this time. I never wanna hurt anyone but I damn sure never wanted to hurt you.. at all—let alone like that..”

Again a silence fell between them, it felt like a lifetime between their words and the action she’d finally take. Stepping forward she used both of her hands to cup his face, both having glassy hues due to all the tears. “I forgive you, Dean.” She said almost in a whisper. He felt his heart racing and he eyes searched hers for any sign that this might not be true. Seconds felt like hours but he couldn’t find any sign of deception and instinctively, he plunged forward to connect his lips with her own. It had caught her off guard but she was returning the kiss with an explosion of passion. They chased the other’s lips in a back and forth motion until they both couldn’t breathe. After pushing the limit a little further they’d separate but remain forehead-to-forehead. “I know there’s no life after you.” She spoke in a soft tone before pulling Dean inside of her home and re-locking the door.

#dean winchester #dean x reader #fanfic #supernatural #dean winchester imagines #spn #spn imagines #dean winchester x reader #fanfics

261 notes · View notes

z3rinn · 11 months

Text

# #. I WANT YOU MORE.

in which link has secretly been pining for the new librarian, and when he finds out you like someone he goes a bit batshit. warning : theres some blood and yandere content ahead !!

this took so long omg T_T testing and everything was hectic, but i hope you guys like it! this was written with botw or totk link in mind !! is it weird that I love Zelda so much but I haven't written much for it?? yes. but uh. LINK !!!

Link had been blessed. That's what everyone told him. He was a hero. Someone who saved this land for more than a millenia. He weilded the legendary sword, the one said to seal the darkness. He was blessed by the Triforce of Courage, given to him by the gods themselves.

Link had many titles in life, many burdens he had to carry. It was his job, his duty as a citizen of Hyrule. His duty as the hero.

He had almost everything in life. An outstanding reputation, a good job that kept him steady and afloat. A big house, secluded from others but close enough to not be considered an outcast. Good cooking skills that could impress anyone. Girls flocking and cooing over him. Link was the perfect man for anyone. He had it all.

Except for you of course.

The cute castle librarian.

He first noticed you in the old, rundown, library. A place that definitely needed to be renovated. The hylian glanced around as he stepped into the room. Cracks and shatters littered the room, bookshelves were close to falling, and the roof just seemed to barely be holding up. Books were piled everywhere and anywhere the eye could see.

It was an impressive library, he had to admit. Just a bit outdated. Perhaps that's what gave the building its beauty though.

Link glanced over to the small door near the end of the library, noticing a person coming out of it. You must’ve been the librarian, he quickly realized. He sized you up and down, you looked… done, oddly enough.

Zelda was the one to first talk to you of course. You were the head of the library, so kind and soft-spoken. Links eyes stayed fixated on your form as you greeted him and Zelda, showing them around. It was obvious you were trying to impress the princess while still being as kind as you could.

However, Link watched closely, scrutinizing your form with his piercing gaze. He noticed the way you talked about the different books and architecture of the building in great detail. Usually people spoke about the details with great pride, flaunting how they were so well versed in the subject.

Yet Link could tell you were tired. Tired of your duties and being stuck in this library. The way you spoke sounded energetic, and the smile on your face could fool anyone.

Yet he noticed the way you deflated after speaking with the princess. As if you had said these words a hundred times over. It was all calculated. A prepared speech. You were tired. That much he could tell.

He was tired too.

☆

Link found himself gravitating to the library after his first visit. There was something about it that called to him. Perhaps the want to know of his ancestors and their accomplishments. Thats what he kept telling himself.

He wouldn't do much while there however, other than picking up a book ot two before taking a seat at the table closest to your desk.

He tried reading the books of course, and at first succeeded without much distraction. However from the corner of his eyes he watched as you worked. Placing books onto their shelves, helping out customers, and tidying up as best you could.

Link’s eyes followed your form wholly. Although he could still notice ths small details, like your walking being sluggish, the knight couldn’t help but gawk. You were just so captivating. So fluid with your movements.

The way you moved around so swiftly yet carefully, aware of what you were doing while still being carefree. You could balance various books in your hands, all in different sizes. You maneuvered across the children running around, being steady to not harm them.

A light laugh escaped your lips as you told them to be careful, this was a library after all.

Link could tell that laugh was genuine at the least.

The heroes gaze fell to his hands. He wondered how you could act so engaged while still hating your job. The book he held felt as if it weighed just as much as his sword now.

"Oh, if it isn't the princesses guard! Uhm, Link... right?"

Link’s head snapped up, his gaze meeting your own. He was quick to note that the library had become silent. He hadn't realized it, but it seemed as if it was only you two left in the library now.

"What brings you here?" You spoke with a soft smile on your face. A costumer service smile it seemed. You were probably just waiting for him to get up and leave so you could close shop.

You shimmied over next to him, eyes focussing on the book in his hands. "Ah, a book on the master sword. You must be reading about your ancestors, correct?"

Link nodded, as you came to sit besides him. "I can help if you'd like? I’ve been researching the master sword ever since I was young. I’ve always been fascinated by the legends and heroes that fought with it.”

You turned to him, “It’d be nice to learn from someone who actually wields it as well.”

You spoke with a smile on your face, it was bright and real. He noticed the way you glanced at the sword on the table. Awe and admiration in your shimmering eyes. It looked as if you wanted to learn about it for a while now.

Hm. A small smile grazed his face. Blue eyes shining down at you.

Perhaps this could blossom into a nice friendship.

☆

It seemed as if Sir Link was visiting your library more and more often as of late.

You couldn’t help but smile as you noticed him outside office window, seeing the familiar blonde hylian sitting at the desk closest to you. He always sat there, eyes glancing around for you before just sitting and silently waiting. You giggled, placing the book back on your desk before walking out of the small room.

Walking towards him, you reminisced, recallinghow much time had passed. It had been around a month since you first met the hero, asking him to collaborate with you.

It started off simple, researching the master sword while talking about the heroes of past. There wasn’t much meaning to it, in fact it was just pointless chatter.

I mean the both of you knew the same exact things anyways.

However, you couldn’t help but think of Link as some sort of idol. It was a practically a dream come true, being the wielder of the legendary sword. Almost every kid that had heard of it wanted to become the great hero.

It was an honor and a sign of courage.

But also a sign of power.

You sighed, well if you couldn’t keep the sword, you could at least be friends with the person that did.

So it was only obvious to propose your grand idea.

And ever since then, Link would visit whenever he was off.

Sure, you didn’t expect him to show up every other day, but Its not like you were complaining. Link was basically unreal. He had a pretty face, and great hair. He was quiet and mysterious, yet soft and kindhearted. Plus he could cook. Practically everything you could want in a man.

You tapped your fingers against the table, another sigh escaping your lips.

Hm. Too bad you were already engaged.

Sure it was a forced marriage, but you wouldn’t cheat. You couldn’t deal with that guilt on your conciseness. You had to do it for your parents.

Your soon to be partner wasn't a bad person. He just wasn't the right one for you.

You didn't like him.

If only you could make someone get rid of him.

Your eyes shifted to Link’s form, staring at him intently. A smile was on his face as he rambled on about his first time seeing the sword. There was a childlike joy on his face as he spoke.

He was experiencing an old memory. A vivid scene from his past.

You noticed Link seemed to be opening up to you more, speaking incessantly and happily. You couldn't help but smile too. He was just perfect.

Someone that was already wrapped around your fingers.

Link was opening up more and more to you throughout your time together. At first he was silent, just watching you speak. You were the one to hold most of the conversations, with him just humming or intensly nodding along. He was so serious it was kind of funny.

You knew he had gone through a lot, so you'd let him take his time. He could become closer to you as time passed.

It didnt take as long as you assumed however, as the shell he hid behind had begun to crack. He started to smile and laugh when you told him a dumb joke. He was relaxed around you, his stiff posture loosening with a soft look on his face.

He started speaking on his own as well. That was probably the biggest improvement. The first time you heard his voice you practically swooned.

Link opened up conversations now, speaking about his experiences and abilities.

Someone that was already yours.

“So Link,” you suddenly started, staring at the wooden table before you while placing your head on your palm. Might as well as do it. “Have you ever had a lover?”

You were nervous to look at him. It was an odd question for sure, and you weren’t certian if you were close enough to ask him. A moment passed. And then another. Sweat ran down your back. Perhaps you were right for being concerned, as Link was silent.

You couldn’t help but glance up at him, gazing into his eyes fearfully. However, instead of the disgusted and judging look you expected, you were met by red.

Links face was flushed scarlet, hot and warm. His eyes were wide and darting to every corner of the room, so obviously avoiding you. Their pretty blue color was accentuated by his reddened face. Magically, his pretty hair became disheveled, adding to the almost comical scene before you.

A small smile played on your face, mischievous and sly. You couldn’t help but giggle, "Have I struck a nerve?"

He looked away from you, albeit, while shaking his head. It surprised you honestly. He was oddly embarrassed for such a simple question...

A laugh escaped your lips, a joking tone laying on your tounge. "Really? I would've assumed the hero of hyrule would have a partner..."

You paused, watching his expression closely. He was just sitting there, listening to you intently. The blush on his face had slightly subsided, yet was still present on his pale face.

Was it right to say this now?

A smile grew on your face, elegant and sweet. Hiding your intent. "Especially since even I have one."

You looked closer.

It was subtle, but you could tell Link’s expression changed. His face fell, even if it was just slight. You could see his eyes grew wide, mouth slightly falling agape.

But as quickly as the shock arrived, it left.

A soft smile grew on Link's face, gentle and calm. It would've captured your heart if you didnt know him that well. It was so obviously sad it kind of hurt.

Eh. No. No it didnt.

"I'm surprised, you don't seem all that shocked...," you leaned forward against the table, placing your head in your chin.

The hylian simply shrugged, lip twitching as if he wanted to say something.

Suddenly Link stood up, stammering something about Zelda needing his help. It almost gave you whiplash with how quickly he tried to leave. What an obvious lie. You tried to hide the smirk peeking up on your face.

You didn't expect him to loose his cool that fast.

Instead, you mirrored Link's sad expression, standing up to place a hand on his shoulder.

"Ah, I'm sorry to have taken your time away from the princess..." You flashed him a smile, patting his shoulder while trying to convey a solemn expression. "I guess I'll see you later?"

He nodded, taking your hand off his shoulder and keeping it in his. You noticed that he hesitated for a moment, eyes fixated on your softer hand.

He brought your hand to his face, gently kissing your finger tips and knuckles before turning away. You gaped, holding your hand close to your chest. Subconsciously, it seemed, that Link did the motion.

And he left you in the dust, just like that. With your heart beating and your mind racing. A smirk grew on your face, shining brightly as you giggled.

Link was the right choice.

☆

Link was sure he knew everything about you. From your favorite book to how many fruits grew in your backyard; despite never being formally invited.

It wasn't unwarranted for him to... conduct experiments per say.

You always told him to research if he was ever curious about something. And doing it hands on was one of the best ways to get good information.

So he researched, learning practically everything there was to learn about you.

Including your lover.

He just hoped you'd forget about them. Hoping you realized you didn’t need them. Link was so much better, he could love and care for you more than they ever would. He could protect you better then they ever could.

Your lover wasnt even there half the time. They didn't care for you. They didn't love you. They weren't right for you—

crash

Link stepped back, startled. He reached for his sword, before a light sigh escaped his lips, relaxing. A pretty vase sat in front of him. Now broken and shattered. He was getting carried away it seemed.

But Link cared for you. He was capable of everything. He could protect you. He would always be there for you.

He would love you.

Link would always love you.

Although. Sometimes he couldn't figure out why.

Perhaps it was because you spoke to him as if he was normal. Being the head librarian led you to learning heavily about Link's ancestors, and of course, their legacies.

They were all courageous hylians, heroes that were blessed by the gods themselves. Heroes that held the triforce.

Heroes he had to live up to.

But you didn't treat him like that.

While yes, you commented on him being a hero, and how he was lucky enough to have everything, you still treated him like a regular hylian.

You didn't judge him for his mistakes. Nor his skills. You laughed with him as you would a friend, jabbing and joking with him. No matter what he did, you accepted with a smile. Speaking to him as a friend would.

With you, he was like he was any other person.

He was so glad to have you.

It could've also been your mannerisms. You were gentle and soft-spoken, helping others with no compensation needed.

You were a model to many. The embodiment of a worthy citizen.

Yet there was also an air of mystery surrounding you. As if you knew more than you let on. It made you oddly compelling.

He noticed how you payed close attention to things. Just by the way he would speak, you could tell how he was feeling. Just by glancing over at someone's expression, you could tell what they wanted.

Link especially noticed how you looked at him. How you paid so much attention to him.

And only him.

Or maybe it was the way you slept with all the light's off. In pitch dark, no light whatsoever. It made it absolutely perfect for him to just stand over you in the night, breathing heavily over your gorgeous face. His hot breath mixing with yours—

Link blinked, glancing down at the broken shard from the vase in his hand. He had clutched it too hard it semed, as blood coated his hand.

It steadily dripped to the floor. A small pool of blood seeping into your wooden floors. It was red. Deep and scarlet like.

So different from the blood of monsters he'd slain countless times before.

He wondered how scarlet red blood would look pooling out of your lover.

While looking up at the clock on your bedroom wall he smiled.

Right.

You should've been home soon.

And he was right here waiting for you. :)

#link #the legend of zelda #legend of zelda x reader #loz #loz x reader #loz link #linked universe #yandere linked universe #linked universe x reader #link x reader #legend of zelda #zelda #botw #totk #yandere x reader

523 notes · View notes