#my brain actually goes feral for these two please do not even begin to perceive me | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

fyodorscenarios · 7 years

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Maybe a scenario where fyodor heard that there's this girl held captive and she holds a powerful ability (or maybe a witch and not an ability user) and fyodor goes and rescue her (his only motive is to use her for his plan ofc) but even if he was using her, he treats and take care of her like a partner and at some point they fall in love?

Cool idea anon, I like it! Honestly I’m not sure how true to the request this is, but I hope you like it anyway.

Also, I ended up leaving out some explanation so the reader could decide if they’re a witch or just an ability user.

You wake up to the sound of an alarm. Your wrists and ankles are still in cold chains. The sound drills through your ear canals to your brain, and for a moment you suspect that this might be another form of torture.

Your captors however, are nowhere to be found. They wouldn’t miss your suffering for much; they were sadists, after all.

You tug at your chains, they’re still as tight as ever. Taking the opportunity you believe has been presented to you, flames of your own creation start to dance lightly over your fingers. You hold them to the chain around you opposite wrist, hoping that the metal will melt quickly.

After a few moments you realize that perhaps doing this is no use. Since your captors were aware of your capabilities, it was quite likely that the metal was heavily flame resistant.

You flick your flames off, stand, and stretch your limbs. There isn’t much you can make of this situation, but you assume that someone has invaded your captors’ base. In that case, it was best to be prepared should someone enter your cell, you think.

Your eyes bore into the door, it is likely about 10 metres away, metal, locked, and heavily reinforced. If anyone came in, they would likely need the key. Part of you finds it unlikely that anyone will come. Yet the other, waits in anticipation, as if someone is approaching specifically for you.

You continue to stand, curling your hands into fists and digging your nails into your palms. A strange feeling begins to creep up on you, perhaps it is a mix of terror and excitement, though you are not sure.

Suddenly, the siren stops, and you are left in complete silence. It’s over, you think. However, you still feel on edge.

You take a deep breath then focus your eyes back on the door. It slowly creeps open, and you feel the cool draft from the hallway enter your cell room. It takes a second before the strong scent of blood hits your nose.

A man steps through the door, dragging the smell of the freshly deceased along with him. His pure white suit and pale complexion are spattered with blood.

“Hello, чародейка,” he says, approaching you.

[charodeyka — sorceress, witch, etc.]

There is something menacing about him, and it isn’t simply the blood on his clothes. The air of confidence you perceive seems as if it has a right to be there, enveloping him, as if it wouldn’t have chosen anyone else.

“Who the hell are you?” you yell, throughly agitated by his approach and how the glint in his eyes seems to excite you.

He stops, just out of arms reach, eyeing you in an almost feral manner.

“I am Fyodor Dostoevsky, and perhaps your new god. It would be wise of you to repent for your pervious actions and join my cause.” you’re shocked by how simply the words come from his throat and dance around your head, as if they’re serious. Though maybe from someone like him, they are.

“What will you do if I refuse?” you get straight to the point, and he smirks.

“Death by my hand. Or perhaps, I’ll just leave you here to starve.” Fyodor says, “and please, do choose quickly. I don’t have all day.”

Your life so far has been a struggle, to say the least. Despite the likely warped intentions of the man before you, certainly, you do not wish to give up on life now. Your choice was clear.

Three Months Later.

It wasn’t often that Fyodor contemplated things along the lines of personal relationships. They just weren’t something that he saw much value in unless they were necessary for his plans. In other words, practically anyone he kept contact with was a pawn.

Fyodor never had much trouble making people do exactly what he wanted them to. Rarely, did Fyodor see anyone as unpredictable or difficult to deal with. Even more uncommon for him, was meeting a person that actually interested him.

He doesn’t want to admit that he’s started to do what he’s been avoiding for years. He relies on people when he knows with complete certainty that they will do what they have been led to do, and even then he always has alternatives if they don’t succeed. But to trust another person, the idea seems preposterous.

Perhaps he trusts some of his subordinates to an extent, he thinks. Pushkin, who he has called his friend, is not really his friend, but he was as close to a friend Fyodor figured he would allow in his life. His butler, Ivan, is a follower wholly devoted to his master, once again, not a friend. Fyodor considers how he likely has no true companion, and then wonders why he even cares. Having a companion is irrelevant to a god after all; at least it should be.

He had realized a little bit earlier that the closest to a companion of his was you. Somehow, you did not seem to view him with any anger, and the thought of that shocked him.

Were you just so morally corrupt that his actions never disgusted you? He had thought. No, you trusted that his actions would lead to a better world, he realized. Yet, you did not trust him like a follower would a god, you trusted him like a human would trust another human.

He’d chalk it up to naïvety, but you weren’t trusting him blindly. He had told you about the things he did, and the things he was planning on doing. At first it had been to see how you would react, then it morphed into somewhat of a sick game where he tried to see what would finally make you break down. Finally, he got bored of it, because you never broke for him. Perhaps on your own you had seen too many horrors already, and were now numb. This is what had led him to become curious about you, among other things.

The way you treated Fyodor used to irritate him. Refusing to remain even mildly afraid of him for too long, within your first week with him you began to treat him almost as if you were equal. You would attempt to make friendly conversation, and when that didn’t work beg to borrow a book or two from his library. Eventually he caved to the latter. You were quick to finish them when you had no missions, and would always rush to him to discuss the book and its themes afterwards. He’d have commended you for finding one of his weak spots if it wasn’t for how annoyed he was by that fact.

He was surprised by how interesting your interpretations of his favourite texts were. They were usually different from his own, and though he could never agree with most of it, you always said something that stood out and helped him refine his own ideas. He started recommending you novels at this point, much to your joy.

Time and time again you had disproven his judgements of you. It was a wound to his pride, but he didn’t feel too bad about it anymore.

“Fyodor!” you say, getting his attention. He hadn’t noticed you stumble through the door.

A torn shirt sleeve is wrapped around your arm, acting as a makeshift bandage. There’s blood seeping through it already.

Fyodor almost fumbles as he gets out of his chair. “Sit down, I’m getting the first aid kit.” he yells, already about half way down the hallway.

He rushes back to the room where you’re sitting. After opening the first aid kit, he slowly unties and removes the fabric from your wound.

“I’ll have to give this stitches,” he mutters after examining the gash.

“Are you sure? It’s not even that bad now that I look at it.” you say.

“Which one of us actually has any experience with this sort of thing?” he deadpans.

“You do…” you mumble.

As he cleans your wound it suddenly dawns on you. “Are you worried about me?” you smirk.

He scowls at you. “I’m concerned about loosing one of my best pieces. Can you not understand that чародейка?”

“Harsh,” you remark.

Two Months Later.

Upon meeting Fyodor, it would be obvious to most everyone that he was a significant person. One could not sort someone like him into a specific group. To you, he was always incredibly intriguing, to say the least.

When one finds someone interesting, it is natural for one to want to get to know them. So after overcoming your initial fear of approaching him regularly, you began attempting to do just that. It had been easier than you had thought, as to you it had become clear that he wouldn’t kill you over something so minor. He had gone to the effort to rescue you just for his plans, therefore he wouldn’t kill you that easily.

You knew that he was very secretive, but you had nothing better to do besides going on the occasional mission for him. When you first asked to borrow books from him it was to alleviate your boredom. However, you realized quickly that books could be a clever talking point, and it had all worked out from there.

Currently, you’re sitting on a couch reading one of his books. Fyodor is nearby in an armchair, sipping on a cup of tea.

You stare up at him. He seems relaxed; something you rarely see him express. It makes you strangely content seeing him this way.

“You seem pleased,” you mention. “Did something good happen today?”

“Not particularly,” he says, “I might just like spending time with you.”

Your eyes widen. Fyodor stares down blankly at his teacup as if he might actually be embarrassed.

“Really?” you reply.

“Don’t act so incredulous about it,” Fyodor says while attempting to recover. “You probably knew it already…”

You nod slightly, “and you’re aware that the feeling is mutual, right?”

Fyodor finally makes eye contact with you, acting as if he won’t say more. You frown slightly at this but continue. “How about we go out for coffee sometime soon? Like normal people do.”

“Sure (y/n), I’d like that.” He replies.

Neither of you would admit it at the moment, but there was a silent understanding that it was a date.

#scenario #requests #bsd #bungou stray dogs #bungou stray dogs scenario #anon #sorry for the wait

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