#that line was intentional‚ i just know it
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Bliss
Jessie Fleming x Reader
Summary: Jessie and you are on your honeymoon. She can't keep her hands off of her new wife.
Warnings: Smut. Pool sex, facesitting, slight overstimulation, etc.. Language as well.
A/N: Okay. I'm a little out of control on this one. Buckle up because it's long. My imagination went a little crazy. Based on this request.
"Jessie, come look at the pool. It looks beautiful at night with all of the lights."
Jessie hummed as she came up behind you, gently pressing herself against your back and wrapping an arm around your waist. She tilted her head down to lay a soft kiss at the base of your neck. You chuckled lightly at how her breath tickled your skin.
"Want to take a dip?" She asked, subconsciously swaying both of you gently from side to side as you looked out the glass doors of your honeymoon suite.
You turned your head back to look at her with a quiet smile. "That sounds perfect."
You both got changed into your swimsuits and Jessie went in first. Once she was in she turned and reached up to offer you her hand. You took it and let her guide you into the private pool attached to your suite. Tall bushes and trees lined the area, ensuring privacy and freeing you from any prying eyes.
You smiled as she took a seat, the water resting just below her shoulders, and pulled you onto her lap. You readily obliged, wrapping your arms around the back of her neck as she held you.
"How is my wife liking her honeymoon so far?" She asked as she looked up to you. Your smile widened immediately at the acknowledgement of your new title. Marriage wasn't even something you necessarily knew you'd wanted growing up, but after meeting Jessie and falling in love with her, becoming her wife felt all too right.
"It's gorgeous," you told her as you leaned down to capture her lips in a kiss. "And how is my beautiful wife liking her honeymoon?" She grinned into the kiss.
"Even more amazing than I'd dreamed it would be," she told you. Even with the recessed lights around the pool, the area was fairly dark and you weren't sure if she could see your blush.
You'd been together for several years and it still warmed your heart when she spoke so romantically with you. Jessie wasn't known as an openly sentimental person, so for her to make such statements so unabashedly with you still made you feel special.
You deepened your kiss and thumbed her cheek tenderly. The past few weeks had been an absolute whirlwind with the wedding and all of the obligations and activities that went along with it. It felt like you two had been going full tilt for ages between the wedding, her competitions, and your work. You were grateful to be able to slow down and finally spend some time together, just the two of you. You knew she felt the same by how clingy she was leading up to this. Always with a hand on your back, her pinky hooked with yours, or her chin on your shoulder, with "I miss you" texts sprinkled throughout.
You loved that this composed - sometimes guarded - woman was so soft and loving with you.
"I can't believe you're finally my wife," Jessie whispered between kisses, awe in her voice.
"Took you long enough, Fleming," you teased, pulling a grumble out of her. Her fingers dug into your hips slightly as she gave you a pouting glare.
"I've been calling you my 'future wife' since year one," she protested lightly. You chuckled and kissed her placatingly.
"I know, my love. I'm just teasing. I never doubted your commitment or intentions."
"Good," she said with lingering disapproval. "Don't make me pull out years-old texts to friends and family where I told them I was going to marry you."
You pulled back and cocked your head curiously. "I don't know - I mean that sounds very appealing to me."
"Yeah, I'll bet," Jessie said as she rolled her eyes playfully and pulled you closer to her, wrapping her arms more fully around you and leaning down to kiss your collarbone.
"In the meantime," she went on, her voice now low, "I can think of some other ways to reassure you."
"Mm, you think?" You played along, letting your head fall back a bit and inviting her to kiss up your neck. "Tell me all about it." You felt her smirk against you.
"You know I'm really more of a doer than a talker."
Your body tensed up as you felt her tongue sneak out for a teasing lick before her lips closed on the sensitive skin of your neck and she sucked lightly. You rocked your hips in her lap without thought and she reached up to start massaging your breasts.
She took her time teasing you and small whimpers escaped your throat as the aching between your legs grew greater and greater for her.
"You really don't need these," she announced as she reached down to hook a couple of fingers into the band of your bikini bottoms and gave a tug. You reluctantly lifted off of her long enough for her to pull them down your legs and she discarded them on the pool deck.
When you settled back down onto her lap, she massaged your thighs with her strong fingers, her head tilted back as she watched you grind yourself down onto her lap in need. She smirked.
"God, I'm lucky. I have the most beautiful wife," she told you.
You gave a gentle laugh that was quickly cut off with a soft gasp when her hand nestled itself between your legs and her fingers began to explore between your folds.
"Oh my god," she said with a lazy smile as she looked up at you. "I can't believe this is all mine. You feel so amazing every time."
"God, baby, don't tease me. I need you," you told her as you rocked against her fingers, begging her to enter you.
You hadn't had sex since the night before your wedding. You weren't supposed to see each other - stupid superstitions and all - but you'd snuck out to meet, just to check in and because you missed each other. Well, it just so happened that your little rendezvous ended with her fingers deep inside of you, her lips on yours. Still, since then it had been longer than either of you liked because things had been so busy. You needed her badly.
She hummed and leaned up to kiss you.
"Whatever my wife wants, she gets."
A small groan of appreciation fell from Jessie's lips as she slowly sunk into you. She watched with eager eyes as your back arched and you let your head fall back in immediate pleasure.
"I love you so much," Jessie told you as she took your form in, cast in the soft glow of night. She bit her lip as you gripped her fingers. "You're so tight. I love it."
"Oh God, Jessie," you moaned softly as you slowly rode her fingers, aided by the buoyancy of the water, "I love the way you fill me."
Jessie's head rolled back against the edge of the pool as she bit her lip watching you. "Fuck, I love when you talk like that." You leaned into her, allowing your lips to brush against her ear.
"Like what?" You whispered, a smile tugging at the corner of your mouth when you felt her shoulders tense and her free hand gripped your hips harder. "Like when I tell you I'm aching for you. How incredible it feels when your thick, strong fingers fill me. Stretching me."
You continued to ride her slowly, arousal building at how you heard her breathing grow heavier and she started to rock back against you with greater emphasis.
"How when you curl your fingers inside of me the way you do, it makes me weak in the knees. The way you play with my clit sends waves of pleasure through me. And how just the sound of your voice, the way you're breathing right now, the way you're rocking your hips against me, gets me dripping wet for you."
"Fucking hell, babe," Jessie cursed, almost in a hypnotic daze from your words. "You're going to make me fucking cum and I'm the one fucking you right now."
"Is that so?" You teased as you sat back to look at her, running your fingers through her hair before leaning down and kissing her deeply, grinding down into her hand harder.
She tilted her head up, readily meeting your kiss and then some before pumping into you with firmer, faster strokes. She smiled as you whimpered into the kiss, tensing up at the new sensation. She bit your bottom lip, giving it a tug.
"I'm going to make love to you again, and again, and again tonight," she whispered as she kissed along your jawline, bringing up her free hand to run through your hair before cupping the back of your neck and kissing along the side of your neck.
A low moan escaped you and your dug your fingers into her scalp. She groaned in response and nipped at youf as she continued to thrust skillfully into and out of you, her thumb circling your clit.
"Jessie," you panted.
"You look so gorgeous in the moonlight," she said. You opened your eyes to look down to see her watching you steadily with love and affection.
"I love you so much, Jess," you told her between breaths.
She let out a shuddering breath and leaned you back slightly so she could fully appreciate your form. Her free arm gripped you tighter and she started bouncing you up and down on her, pulling you down onto her fingers with greater force and picking up the pace.
Your mouth fell open and you felt that familiar tightening begin in your core. She knew the signs.
"Cum for me, baby," she told you as she watched you - this beautiful woman she could now call her wife, start to come undone on account of her.
You dug your nails into the base of her neck and dragged your fingers down. She leaned into the touch, not breaking her gaze from you for a second. You convulsed around her fingers and she continued to curl her fingers inside of you, drawing out your orgasm.
In time, your breathing slowed once more and the tension in your shoulders, legs and back melted away and you floated fully into her arms. She held you against her, her fingers still inside of you as she continued to lay lingering kisses along your collarbone.
Eventually she chuckled. You nudged her head with yours in question, still too spent to speak.
"The private pool was worth the extra money," she told you, drawing a laugh out of you. She squeezed you in her arms. "I love you."
When you were ready, you both got out of the pool and went inside to rinse off in the shower. Your hands were all over each other the entire time and you were locked in a hungry kiss. You'd just hit your climax a few minutes ago, but as her hands roamed your body and as you ran yours along hers, appreciating the meticulously sculpted dips and curves of her defined muscles, that familiar heat between your legs returned.
You were toweling off and you couldn't break your eyes away from her. Her tanned skin brought out her freckles and you couldn't help but swallow at the sight of her muscles moving and flexing as she dried herself off. You stepped forward and she gave you a curious look as you took the towel from her and began drying her off for her.
Soon, you gently pushed her back against the bathroom counter and began kissing down her stomach. Her abs twitched as you trailed your tongue down them. You dropped the towel to the ground and brought your hands up to her sides, letting your nails graze down until they rested on her hips.
You knelt down before her on the towel and looked up at her. She unknowingly licked her lips and leaned back into the counter, her hands now gripping the edges.
"You are absolutely perfect," you told her as you moved your hands down her muscular thighs and nudged them open.
She exhaled heavily and you saw her knuckles growing white already.
A taut moan escaped Jessie's throat as you leaned up and ran your tongue along her folds. You smiled at how wet she was - and it wasn't from the shower.
"I adore the way you taste," you told her as you tilted your chin up into her and continued to lick up and down her.
You watched as her head fell back and she rolled her shoulders out. You moaned into her. She was gorgeous to begin with, but with her head thrown back like that, it accentuated the chiseled structure of her jaw and the angles of her neck.
You leaned up into her further, rising on your knees more and you brought your hands around to grip her gorgeously sculpted ass. You kneaded the muscles there and she groaned low in her chest.
She let go of the counter and placed both hands on the back of your head, her fingers digging into you. You moaned into her and she started to bend her knees and rock into you mouth.
"Baby, you make me feel so good," she told you as she intermittently gripped your hair. You wrapped your lips around her clit and sucked hard, flicking the sensitive bud with your tongue. She let out a high moan and her knees gave just slightly before she caught herself.
She bit her lip with a low chuckle and looked down at you.
"I wish I had my wedding ring on," she breathed, locking eyes with you. "I want to see the band catch the light, my hand on the back of your head while you're on your knees for me."
Your eyes fluttered shut and you groaned heavily into her, the vibration causing her legs to give again and her hands tightened in your hair once more.
"You're gonna make me cum," she told you, her voice raspy as she rolled her hips against your mouth.
You continued unwaveringly and you heard her breathing grow strained and heavy. You opened your eyes when she moved one hand back to the counter, bracing herself. Her eyes were screwed shut, her jaw clenched and her thighs began to flex around your head.
"Oh fuck. Y/N." Your name echoed off the tile walls as Jessie tensed up around you and she inhaled sharply, practically whimpering as her orgasm took her.
Seeing her like this, riding out her orgasm, never, ever got old. It astounded you that you were the one that she let take her over the edge.
When she relaxed, she released your hair and her body slumped back against the counter. Her mouth was agape as she worked to catch her breath and her eyes were momentarily unfocused before honing in on you.
"Jesus," she said as she forced herself to stand back up. You rose from the floor, wrapping your arms around her waist and she gave a breathless laugh. "I wasn't expecting that."
"It's our honeymoon, baby," you told her as you narrowed your eyes playfully. "You can't have all the fun." She let out a single breath as a laugh.
"I don't know. I'd say I have been having all the fun so far." She looked at you wordlessly for a moment, a hint of a smile of her face before she cupped your cheek. "You're the one. I hope you always know that."
You smiled and gave her a kiss. "Well, feel free to remind me now and then."
She didn't speak right away, again just taking you in before suddenly her hands were under you and lifting you up. You squealed and wrapped your arms and legs around her as she carried you over to the bed. She set you down and climbed on, moving past you so she was laying on her back.
"On me," she told you. You smirked and crawled up the bed, swinging your leg over her waist and settling yourself on her hips. Your wet core made contact with her skin and she arched an eyebrow smugly at you.
"Like this?" You asked teasingly.
"You fucking know it," she affirmed with a smirk of her own. She gripped your hips and pulled you down against her as she rocked her hips up. "You're ready for me already, baby. Did seeing me cum for you turn you on?"
"You fucking know it did," you returned playfully.
Her eyes were bright as she watched you. She reached down and you lifted your hips to make room for her hand. She dug her head back into the pillow as her fingers slipped through your folds.
"I could never get tired of this. Every time I feel how wet you are for me it's like the first time all over again. God I love you."
"Well, I guess it's a good thing you made me your wife," you said as you ground yourself against her teasing fingers.
You threw your head back, a moan flowing freely from your throat as she sunk her digits into you.
"Say it again," she commanded. You came back to the moment and brought your head back down to look at her. She gazed up at you with hooded eyes.
"I'm your wife," you told her as you rose up on her fingers to the tips and sunk back down.
"You're my wife," she repeated with a satisfied smile, her other hand roaming up your side to cup your breast.
Words ceased as you started riding her. While outside in the pool was somewhat measured and sensual, now the motions were fast and hard as you rode her and she met you with fervour. Your head was thrown back and your needy moans filled the room as she filled you repeatedly to the brim before drawing out and sparking your desire all over again.
"God, you fuck me so good, Jess," you told her as she sent sensation after sensation through you. She grunted in response, eyes transfixed on you, and quickened her movements.
You were nearing your high when she stilled and held your hips in place.
A shameless whimper escaped you and you let your head fall back forward to look down at her in question. She didn't answer, she merely bucked her hips using the momentum to push you off and she shuffled down slightly before guiding you up the bed.
"Jess," you managed to say as she held you above her face.
"I want to taste you," she told you.
"Oh my god," you said, your legs already trembling as you knelt over her.
"I've got you," she said as she braced your thighs with her hands. "Come on, baby. I can take it," she encouraged. "You look fucking amazing from here." Her hands held you and she gently, but firmly pushed you down towards her waiting mouth.
A quick gasp escaped you as she reached up with her tongue.
"Jess, I don't know if I'm going to last long," you warned her. She took this as an invitation and pulled you down into her more fully. She laid her tongue flat on you and gave a few slow, soft licks before delving in.
You gasped again and leaned forward to brace yourself on the headboard. You glanced down to see Jessie, eyes closed, rolling her head side to side as she explored you, sending delicious pulses through your core while her biceps popped as she held you in place.
"Oh my god, Jess," you panted as you began to roll your hips against her tongue. Her grip tightened as she groaned into you.
The sounds of her lapping up your juices and moaning into you were driving you wild. Never mind the sight of her between your legs as she devoured you. You brought one hand down and gripped her hair.
"Jessie," you said as you felt your climax quickly approaching. She embraced it fully as she dug her fingers into your legs and tilted her chin into you.
"Fuck," you cursed as you began to spasm around her. You braced your hand on the wall as your legs threatened to give way.
Jessie held you steadily and moaned in appreciation as your arousal started to drip down her chin. She slowed her actions and gave you some reprieve. For now. You went to move off of her, but she held you in place.
"Baby," you half-pleaded, half-warned. Instead of letting you go, Jessie laid one slow, languid lick from your entrance up to your clit. You released a shaky gasp and your whole body shuddered.
Soon she was slowly lapping at you again and a series of "Oh my god"s fell from your lips as she sent more and more waves of pleasure through you.
She continued her attention and despite how amazing it felt, your legs were shaking and your thighs burned. You were so tired you could barely hold yourself up even with her help.
"Jessie, I can't," you panted.
She relented this time, and she reached up with one hand to brace your back and she rolled you both, somehow keeping her mouth fixed between your legs as she laid you out on your back.
The burning in your thighs was immediately pushed from your mind as Jessie tucked her knees under her, pushed your legs back and leaned her head further into you. You covered your face at the sensations that were rolling through your body and she worshipped you incessantly.
You pushed your head back into the mattress and dug your fingers through your hair as you felt Jessie trace her fingers around your soaking entrance. A heady moan escaped you as she slipped easily inside.
Her strokes were slow and patient as she continued to suck on your clit. You writhed beneath her and soon she lifted her head up, her fingers not missing a beat, as she began to kiss her way up your body. When her lips reached your neck she began to tend to the skin there with slow kisses.
"I love you so much," she said as she gently added a third finger, stretching you further.
"Oh my God, Jessie." Your voice was high with need and you were short of breath as you wrapped your arms and legs around her and clutched her tightly to you. She tucked her free arm under your back and pulled you close as she continued to tenderly stroke in and out of you.
"Y/N," she whispered, her head lolling against yours now, her lips grazing your ear. "I'm going to spend every day making sure you know how much I love you." Her fingers curled inside of you with slow, steady thrusts. "You'll never have to question it."'
Your moans increased and you both tightened your grip on one another. You could feel that coiling sensation deep inside of you building already and you dug your nails into her back.
Her nails dug into you and she teeth sunk into your skin briefly. You felt her back arching over you as she stroked you deeper.
“I can’t wait to keep building my life with you,” she declared, her own body writhing against you as she made love to you.
"If it was up to me," she said, voice husky as she panted above you, "you'd be leaving here with my baby inside of you."
Your mouth fell agape and you tossed your head further back, a shameless moan filling the room.
"Jess." Her name came out of your mouth as a needy whine. "Holy fuck. I'm gonna cum again."
A cry fell from your lips as another orgasm rocked you. You screwed your eyes shut, but it still felt like your vision went hot white. You mindlessly clawed at Jessie's back and she maintained her rhythm, coaxing you through before slowing to a stop and resting inside of you.
Your chest heaved up and down as you struggled to catch your breath. You didn't even realize she was laying soft, faint kisses along your shoulders as she waited for you to come around.
You weren't sure how much time passed before you were able to open your eyes and look at her. There had been other times where she'd pushed you to the absolute brink and you expected her to wear the same cocky look she normally would, but instead she was watching you with pure adoration.
"You're my favourite person in this whole world," she told you with a warm smile. You managed a small laugh.
"And you're mine."
She kissed your cheek and gave you a smirk. "You better get some rest. This is only day one, after all."
#jessie fleming#jessie fleming x reader#woso#woso x reader#jflem#woso community#woso imagine#canwnt x reader#smut fic
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Office Hours — R.C
request: Hi!! Can you write like a CEO rafe and his wife who comes to visit him at the office and he fucks her on his desk where everybody can hear her moaning his name and then he walks out all smug, leaving for the day to continue pleasing his wife at home (from anon)
CW: CEO!Rafe, wife!reader, semi public sex(?), unprotected sex, choking, slapping, degrading, breeding kink. and i think that’s it.
likes, comments and reblogs are very appreciated<3
note: CEO Rafe is so sexy to me, and this is an NYC AU, not in the OBX💞
Rafe always loved when you came to visit him at work. Your husband had a very busy schedule, multiple meetings, business trips, and visiting location sites for new businesses he wanted to open up.
It was a rarity that you caught him in the office, alone and with some time to spare for you.
So when he called you today, asking you to come in to the office to see him, you jumped on the opportunity.
“Mrs. Cameron, he’s in his office waiting on you.”
You smile at Rafe’s assistant, nodding your head as you make your way down the long hallway of the building. Reaching the end of the hall, you stand in front of his office door, Rafe Cameron, CEO, is in big bold letters across the middle.
You push the door open, — not bothering to knock since he knows you’re coming — and find him sitting behind his desk, his office phone tucked between his shoulder and ear as he spoke sternly to whoever was on the other end.
He looks up, bright blue eyes finding yours as he smiles softly, “I gotta call you back.” he says to whoever was on the other end of the line, hanging up before they can even respond.
“Hi beautiful.” he says, smiling and standing from behind his desk, making his way toward you.
You smile widely, shutting the door behind you and meeting his steps, wrapping your arms around his neck and lifting on your toes to kiss his lips. “Hi handsome, I’ve missed you.”
Rafe melts against your lips, his tongue pushing its way into your mouth as he deepens the kiss. His hands slide down your body, wrapping around your waist, large hands gripping your ass firmly through your tight black leggings.
He breaks the kiss, resting his forehead on yours and smiling. “I’ve missed you baby, I promise, I’ll take some time off soon and we’ll go to the house in the Bahamas, spend some real time together, okay?”
You smile up at him, your bottom lip between your teeth as you nod your head in agreement. Rafe dips his head down, his lips finding yours again and slowly kissing you.
His tongue makes its way into your mouth again, brushing with yours as his hands begin roaming the expanse of your body. You moan softly into his mouth when his fingertips rub against your clothed thighs. It’d been a few days since you’d had your husband, and you were craving him, in more ways than one.
“Rafe, I need you.”
He smiles against your lips, backing the two of you up until your back hits a wall. He presses his hips into you, the feel of his already hard cock pressed against your clothed core making your breath catch in your throat.
“Yeah? My wife wanna be fucked in my office? Let everyone hear how good I make her feel?”
You suck in a sharp breath, mumbling a one word response, “Yes.”
His eyes darken and he places his hands on the underside of your ass, lifting you up and forcing you to wrap your legs around his waist. He carries you over to his desk, setting your ass down on the sleek wood surface. You watch him intently as he undoes the buttons of his shirt, pulling it off and leaving his broad, tanned chest and abdomen on display.
You reach out to run your fingers down his abs, but he slaps your hands away. “Nuh uh, baby. No touching.”
You frown, letting out a frustrated sigh that makes Rafe smirk. “You gonna be a fuckin’ brat? Huh? Just let me know, I can make you wait if that’s what you want..”
Your eyes go wide, shaking your head fast as you say, “No no no, ‘m sorry baby, I just… I need to feel you.”
He smirks, popping the button on his black dress slacks before working the zipper and shoving them down his legs, letting the material pool at his feet. Your eyes trail from his face down to his tight black boxer briefs, the hard, thick outline of his cock pressed firmly against the thin material.
“See something you want baby?” he teases, placing his right hand over his hard-on, squeezing himself lightly, a low, raspy groan escaping him.
Your thighs squeeze together, your eyes glued on his hard dick. “Yes. Want your cock, need to feel you stretch me, please.”
Rafe growls, taking one long step toward you. His fingers dig into the waistband of your leggings, ripping them down your legs. He hisses in a breath when he sees you’d opted for no panties today.
“Fuck, you plan this? To come in here and seduce me during office hours?” 
You can’t contain the mischievous smirk that spreads across your lips. “Maybeeee.”
“Mhm, my wife is such a fucking slut. I love it.”
You open your mouth to respond, but Rafe slapping your cheek has you gasping instead. The sting from his hand has more arousal pooling between your legs, and you whine, your clit throbbing with need.
“Rafe, please. Fuck me. I need to feel you inside me, it’s been four days, I-”
Rafe shuts you up, his lips aggressively finding yours. He wraps his fingers into the back of your hair, pulling your head back to allow him better access to your mouth. His tongue finds yours, fighting for dominance while his free hand slides its way under your ass, lifting you up just enough so your soaked cunt is level with his hard dick.
He tightens his grip in your hair, pulling your lips from his as his darkened over eyes find yours. “Ready for me baby?”
You whimper out a small “yes” and he removes his hand from your hair, using the now free hand to grip his cock in his hands. He strokes himself softly, spitting down onto the base and spreading it around his length with his hand.
He scoots your ass further down the desk, running his swollen head through your arousal slick entrance before he slowly pushes into you. You hiss in a breath, squeezing your eyes shut as he continues to push into you agonizingly slow.
“Fuck sweet girl, you’re so fucking tight and wet.”
A loud moan slips past your lips, the feel of his thick cock stretching you out making your brain short circuit.
“F-ffffuck, Rafe. Please move, need to- need to feel you move..”
A low growl rumbles in Rafe’s chest, and he slowly pulls out, slamming himself back inside of your warm, wet cunt. You gasp loudly, screaming his name as you wrap your arms around his neck, your nails digging into the soft skin of his back.
Rafe begins to roughly pound himself into you, his left hand under your ass and keeping you pressed into him while he right hands makes it’s way around your throat, squeezing hard and forcing your eyes on him.
“This what you wanted? Huh? Wanted me to fuck you like a slut in my office, let all my employees hear you fucking scream for me?” He pauses, removing his right hand from your throat and smacking at your face again, a deep, red handprint left burning on your cheek. “Go on, fucking scream baby, let everyone in this goddamn place know who the fuck owns this sweet pussy.”
You’re a whimpering, moaning mess. Your brain is so foggy from how good his cock feels buried deep inside you, how his filthy words and aggressive actions on your body turn you on even more. You can’t form a coherent response, and this only pushes Rafe to be meaner, and fuck you harder.
He slowly pulls himself from you, making you whine at how empty you feel without him filling you. His large hands grip at your hips, lifting your ass from the desk and flipping you so your stomach lay flat on the surface now. He slaps at your ass harshly, making you scream in pain and pleasure. “Answer me! Who the fuck is making you feel this good? Hmm? Who owns this fucking pussy, baby?”
He slams back into you, his hands firmly planted on your hips so he can pull you back to meet each of his thrusts.
Screaming his name, you answer his question. “You! You, Rafe. Feel so fucking good! You own my pussy, all for you!”
He slaps your ass again, a dark chuckle falling from him, “That’s right baby, I fucking own you and this sweet fucking pussy. Never forget that, aight?”
Tears fill your eyes, your pussy clenching tightly around your husband’s thick cock as he repeatedly pushes in and out of you at a fast and rough pace. “Y-yes sir. Never gonna forget it, fuck!”
The first few tears spill past your eyes as Rafe continues to brutally fuck himself into you from behind. Your walls clench around him tightly, strings of curses and moans slipping past your lips. “Fuck, Rafe. Ah ah, s’close baby, fuck!”
Rafe leans forward, the weight of his body on your back as his lips hungrily kiss at your neck, nipping and sucking at the soft skin. “Go on baby, make a fucking mess on my cock and desk, let go f’me.”
That was all it took, Rafe kissing harshly at your neck and his permission to let go sent you tumbling over the edge, your pussy tightening once more as you came undone around him.
He fucks you through your high, his teeth sinking into your shoulder as he curses under his breath. “Gonna cum baby, gonna fill this pretty little pussy up, make you a mama. You want that? Wanna have my babies?”
“Y-yes! P-please! Want your cum, Rafe! Wanna have all your babies, fuck, please please.”
Rafe’s thrusts grow sloppy, his hips stuttering as he pushes into you a few more times. You let out a loud moan when you feel his hot cum spill inside you, painting your inner walls white.
“Fuck!” Rafe shouts as his hips slow, burying himself to the hilt and stilling inside you.
Your body collapses onto the desk, the cool surface feeling good against your hot, sweat slick skin. You wince when Rafe pulls his softening cock from inside you, pulling up his boxers and slacks before grabbing his white button up off the floor.
You hear him disappear into his private bathroom that’s in his office, the sound of the sink turning on making you lift your head from the desk.
He walks behind you, gently laying your head back down as he brings the warm, wet hand towel between your legs and cleaning you up. Once finished, he tosses the damp towel to the side, pulling your leggings back up your legs and lifting you into his arms. You wrap your arms around his neck, your head resting against his firm chest. “I’ve missed you, thank you for that.” you say softly.
Rafe dips his head down, pressing a soft kiss to your tangled hair before whispering, “You’re welcome, baby. ‘M yours for the rest of the day.”
You lift your head, brows furrowed in confusion when you hear his office door open, multiple sets of eyes on the two of you before they all avert their eyes to the ground. You hide your flushed face in his neck, not wanting the attention on you when you know everyone knows what just took place in your husbands office.
You hear Rafe speak, “Angie, forward all my calls for the rest of the day. I’m going home for the day, I’ll see you all tomorrow.”
His assistant clears her throat awkwardly, letting out a quiet “Yes, Mr. Cameron.” before Rafe begins walking the two of you out of his work building and to his car.
rafe taglist: @thelomlisrafecameron @rafegirly @f4ll-for-you @drewstarkeyslut @dilvcv @thewitchesofart @rafesgfxo @unsaidjaelinrose @abbybarnesstuff @itsmytimetoodream @thatsthewaythechrissycrumbles @r1vrsefx @moremaybank @rafetopia @rafemotherfuckingcameron @jade-is-jaded @lexasaurs634 @anqeliclust @presleyanswrites @carma-fanficaddict @rafescokenostril @madzzz0797 @slytherhoes @jscameron @jjsmarijuana @ijustwanttoreadlols @luversgirl @sugarcoatedstarkey @skyesthebomb @nirvanaissogood @vhour @rafeinterlude @superlegend216 @mannstarkey @spideysimpossiblegirl @redhead1180 @crgirlsworld @atorturedpoetx @carolinaxvz @maybankslover @cantstoptherecs @pradabambie @biggesthat3r @wearemadeofstardust0 @sylverdragon @the-sylver-dragon @ditzyzombiesblog @romaescapes @urfavpersonality @stupidbxnny
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About the lines in "No Longer You" that go
Tiresias: I see your wife with a man... with a trail of bodies.
Odysseus: WHO!?
*half-beat*
The wording here and the half-beat are VERY INTENTIONAL, I think. The half-beat gives you JUST enough time for your brain to auto-fill an answer, and the word "who" rhymes with "you" (plus the fact that the word "you" has already been lingered on once or twice by this point in the song). All this comes together so that, when you hear this line, you instinctively want to shout back "You!" because you KNOW the answer and it's SO OBVIOUS, but Odysseus can't see it!
10/10 amazing artistry
(Also, most of us have seen this before. I won't explain it, but...)
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transfems can be women but you are not, you're an agp
(i actually blocked the original person who sent this and then resent it to myself on anon to keep the presentation fitting since i would like to share my perspective on this anyhow. here's what i would have said to this straw-man argument-haver if they weren't already blocked!)
TL;DR:
you're wrong with both of the things you asserted in your statement. 1) i am not an AGP which is because 2) AGP's are exactly as much of a woman as i am.
what meaningful categorization could you put on someone to fit the description of "autogynophile" that precludes them from womanhood without inherently being contradictorily transphobic? "it turns them on to think about being vaginally penetrated" yeah i bet a lot of cishet woman fantasize about that too. "they only changed their identity because they like being a lady so much it helps them get off" okay? and? this is not a categorization which is inherently predatory, so who cares? gender is, irrevocably, an invention. it's a farce. it's nothing, we made it up, that's the whole point of agreeing that people can change it if they say they want to.
drawing a social line by the physical distinctions of "do they have penis or the other one" is as arbitrary as separating people by right handedness and left handedness or the eye color they were born with. the social expectations, behaviors, and woes are a consequence of the fact that everyone has been taught "this is just how it is, and it makes you different in every way, and this is how it's always been, and this is how it'll always be", same as the way people keep using fiat currencies (the US dollar for example), despite them being backed up by no singular tangible thing in any way that matters, aside from the word of the person who controls it.
and sometimes going along with that stuff is fine! i mean not the money, but the other one. the gender one. i like to be called a woman, while also knowing that "woman" is an invention. "pretty" is also an invention, and i love to be called that. "sonic the hedgehog" is an invention that people talk about using the same verbiage they use when describing real, tangible, breathing creatures, despite the fact that sonic the hedgehog exists conceptually and not physically (not including physical representations, which are not the same thing).
i think agp's are also women. if i could read someone's mind and they said "hi im a woman" but i knew they were thinking "im actually a man" i would still say "hello woman" because they might as well have given me their name for all the difference it makes in how we interact moving forward. if someone has no intention or probability to harm themselves or anyone else, i couldn't care less.
all that being said, you're wrong with both of the things you asserted in your statement. 1) i am not an AGP because 2) AGP are exactly as much of a woman as i am. it is a meaningless category coined by bigots and only given credibility by people with bigoted views.
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What do you see as the practical point of the student protests? What Israel is doing in Gaza is a moral horror, but the actual demands being made at e.g. Columbia seem so unlikely to affect it in any way (school sells small amount of stock in companies with some connection to Israel -> ??? -> ??? -> fewer children die) that it's hard to wholeheartedly support the protests escalating.
Unless the theory is "make demands that the college won't meet" -> "cause attention-catching disruption" -> "Biden admin finds it embarrassing" -> "Biden maybe pressures Netanyahu", in which case the specific demands are completely arbitrary?
one of the primary demands is disclose: the financial investments are not transparent information, thus the demand for the administration to reveal what they are. second, as i've mentioned before, university divestment is an established practice dating back to apartheid. there's nothing crazy, controversial, or quixotic about the demand. students are not making the demand with the idea that it will be the final straw that will finally crush the war effort, but with the understanding that it's their money, their community, and that a boycott of israel is the morally correct choice in line with the BDS movement. would you be comfortable attending a school that was investing in russian assets? i wouldn't. even if it's not a ton of money (we don't know how much) it's still likely to be significant given columbia's $14 billion endowment (and i find your phrasing unnecessarily condescending here.) harvard, where an encampment has been set up, is worth $50 billion. some of the ivies, like cornell, invest in raytheon—setting aside israel, why should any university have investments in the military industrial complex to begin with?
here is the preamble to the most recent currently available columbia divestment resolution:
not exactly pie-in-the-sky stuff here. the apartheid protests resulted in successful divestment, and even the 1968 protests resulted in all demands met by the admin. it's a very practical goal. it's also one that happens to be morally righteous and just.
furthermore, i don't know where you have been for the past week, but who have you seen escalate the protests? the reason why there is now a worldwide protest movement is because, for the thousandth time, minouche shafik called the cops to arrest 108 students. the NYPD itself said the students were peaceful and offered no resistance whatsoever, even as police also arrested legal observers. it was not the intention of the protesters to get national or international attention. "hard wholeheartedly support the protests" is an exceedingly strange comment to make that i, frankly, have a hard time understanding. i find it extraordinarily easy to wholeheartedly support fellow graduate students and professors i personally know at multiple universities who are meeting the ire of a lying media, lying administration, and lying government in the form of a police baton for the crime of sitting on some university's lawn.
at this point, given the sheer level of violence the police has unleashed on students and faculty across the country for showing up to said lawns, a portion of the protest support for them stems from the defense of free speech.
additional demands in light of the arrests and suspensions include the reinstatement of SJP and SJVP and amnesty for all arrested. again, not absurd, not without precedent.
lastly, i invite you to go to a protest and see what's happening for yourself. at this point, there's bound to be one near you.
#it's exhausting seeing everyone learn about them exclusively through twitter videos GO TO ONE!#free palestine and free the university
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𓆩 ♡ 𓆪 ┊ 𝐏𝐒𝐘𝐂𝐇𝐎 𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐄
( tomorrow / either i will murder you / or you will rinse the knife in water )
chara : arlecchino
fandom : genshin impact
quote cr : garous abdolmalekian ; ashwarya
a/n : i haven't played genshin in forever, this is all based off her character trailer + wiki
act one : BUT THE STAIN OF A CURSED EXISTENCE IS A TREACHEROUS BEING : HIDEOUS , HORRIFYING , HUMANIZING.
the first time you witness the black that adorns her skin is the first time your heart beats in vast terror. a battle gone wrong, tattered clothes and gloves, and then the reveal of the truest & highest self of a harbinger.
you do not know what to do, what to think. you are unsure if it is the adrenaline of survival that makes the life in your chest ache violently so, or if it is the fear and wanting of the unknown.
arlecchino stands before you, yet you do not dare cast your gaze upon her. you swallow hard, eyes following the drips of sanguine that fall from wretched claws. oh, dearest, how they sink into the hollows of the world, forever fragmented into existence in remnant of death. the blood is too much. it's too much-- the way it splatters across her skin, nearly drenching all black until it is an ocean of madness and crimsons and massacres.
your hands tremble. your stomach churns. you look elsewhere, searching for refuge, but the blood follows, and somewhere in its meaning is the death of those it once belonged to, and that makes your heart beat faster and faster until you feel your mind on the verge of break.
"stand."
the blood is too much.
you listen, but still, you do not look. you are afraid, but you are unsure of what.
a sharpness digs into your face, sudden. harsh. her claws press into your skin-- not light, but seldom hard enough to draw blood. you know very well that she could harm you if she desired, yet she doesn't. she jerks your chin up, forces you to meet her gaze.
"it's ill-mannered to not look your savior in the eye."
your mouth runs dry. something unfamiliar gnaws at your humanity.
"i... am thankful that the blood on your hands is not mine."
and in the abyss of black and red, there's just the faintest trace of amusement in the echoes of apathy.
"a simple thank you would have sufficed."
act two : BUT THE STAIN OF A CURSED EXISTENCE IS A TREACHEROUS BEING : FRIGHTENING , FOREIGN , FATED.
you do not know what draws you to her, this harbinger. it has been a long while since your first encounter, and still, you have remained by her side. you do not know why. you do not know why she agrees to your companionship. you question it more often than you'd like.
she is a complexity of things you have yet to unravel, and truth be told, you doubt you will ever understand her, her past, or who she truly is, and maybe it's better that way. that's what you'll tell yourself, anyway, even if it might hurt.
because she is both safety and danger to you, and you wish that frightened you, but it doesn't. you wish that it would drive you away, but it doesn't. she is no sanctuary, no haven, and though she is lined with cruelty, there is not always a coldness in her heart. you know this.
"i did not save you with the intention of keeping your presence." she tells you one day, and you cannot help but smile.
she washes the crimson off her hands. an all too common sight you have grown to adore. you watch in fascination every time, searching the bright red that fades into an everlasting black.
"yet you do not push me away, arlecchino."
she does not respond. she stares at the bloodied waters, the hazy red a familiarity. in her muddled reflection, there is nothing but vacancy.
"no, i don't."
( she doesn't. she should. you both know this. )
act three : BUT THE STAIN OF A CURSED EXISTENCE IS A TREACHEROUS BEING : ADORED , ADMIRED , ANTAGONIZED.
the world is not meant to be viewed in good and evil, but how it is deeply desired so. it would make things simpler, wouldn't it? the truth would be so easy, the war between logic and emotion dissipated into black and white and seldom gray.
that's what you'd like to imagine, anyway. because even in a world full of good and evil, you do not know where you stand, nor do you know where arlecchino stands. your heart beats dearly for her, but you do not know whether it is with love or infatuation or with warning of the end to come.
perhaps it will be a happy ending. perhaps you will not be in it, whether in death or other means.
you are unsure.
you sit before her, staring at the translucent water in the basin. it has yet to be disturbed by another, pure. your reflection is curious, though you are unable to study it for long. your gaze shifts elsewhere as she grabs your jaw; it is a familiar feeling, the way she forces you to look at her.
it's a dark nostalgia, you think. the blood on her claws, the digging sensation in your face, though much gentler than before. you aren't afraid this time. she stares at you, visage empty. she waits.
your lips curve, subtle. there is a strange exhilaration in the mourning of it all, and one day, you will understand it.
"i wonder," you begin, hand wrapping around her wrist, "when it will be my blood on your hands one day."
something in her expression changes. you barely catch it, but even then, you cannot read it. she leans forward, closes the distance between you, her lips just inches away from yours.
"will you be thankful, even then?"
her grip on your jaw tightens, but still, the claws do not draw blood. you wish it did. you grin.
"of course." you answer, and slowly, you press your lips against hers. "i will always be thankful."
#genshin impact x reader#arlecchino x reader#genshin impact#arlecchino#gi x reader#this was supposed to be a fluff/comfort fic but then i was like . so what if there was blood. what if they were insane. wh#.: writing
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𝓣𝓱𝓮𝓼𝓮 𝓗𝓸𝓵𝓵𝓸𝔀 𝓗𝓪𝓵𝓵𝓼
𝒫𝒶𝒾𝓇𝒾𝓃𝑔: 𝒩𝑜𝓋𝑒𝓁𝒾𝓈𝓉 𝐹𝓎𝑜𝒹𝑜𝓇 𝓍 𝒜𝓈𝓈𝒾𝓈𝓉𝒶𝓃𝓉 𝑅𝑒𝒶𝒹𝑒𝓇
𝒢𝑒𝓃𝓇𝑒: Slow burn romance, female reader, small age gap (Fyodor is thirty, the reader is in her early twenties.) No Abilities AU, angst, fluff, eventual smut, multipart story.
𝒮𝓊𝓂𝓂𝒶𝓇𝓎: “Eyeing his new assistant from across the table, Fyodor’s heart twists in some cold form of rebellion–” “His eyes scan you, watching as your pen glides across the paper, translating his words carefully. A smug smirk rises onto his lips, noting how many times you stop and start. You were already struggling.”
𝒲𝑜𝓇𝒹 𝒸𝑜𝓊𝓃𝓉: 6.5k or so
(A/N: First of all, I’m giving the biggest shoutout to a very close friend of mine for helping with the Russian written in this chapter, you’re the best and I owe you for this ❤
Second of all, I know, strange to write an author AU when the characters are based on authors but here we are.
I want to say Novelist AU Fyodor may have a few similar traits to IRL Dostoyevsky but he is not supposed to be a complete one-for-one in every sense of the word. They’re supposed to just be minor nods to the real Dostoyevsky.)
❤ Reblogs are appreciated ❤
𝐻𝑜𝓌 𝓁𝑜𝓃𝑔 𝒽𝒶𝓈 𝒾𝓉 𝒷𝑒𝑒𝓃 𝓈𝒾𝓃𝒸𝑒 𝐼 𝓁𝒶𝓈𝓉 𝓈𝒶𝓌 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝒻𝒶𝒸𝑒? 𝒮𝒾𝓃𝒸𝑒 𝐼 𝓌𝒶𝓉𝒸𝒽𝑒𝒹 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓌𝒾𝓈𝓅𝓈 𝑜𝒻 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝒽𝒶𝒾𝓇 𝒸𝒶𝓇𝑒𝓈𝓈 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝒸𝒽𝑒𝑒𝓀𝓈 𝒾𝓃 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓌𝒾𝓃𝒹?
𝒲𝒽𝑒𝓃 𝓌𝒶𝓈 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓁𝒶𝓈𝓉 𝓉𝒾𝓂𝑒 𝐼 𝓈𝒶𝓌 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒷𝒾𝓉𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒾𝓃𝓈𝒾𝒹𝑒 𝑜𝒻 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝒸𝒽𝑒𝑒𝓀 𝒾𝓃 𝒾𝓇𝓇𝒾𝓉𝒶𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃, 𝑜𝓇 𝓈𝒶𝓌 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝓃𝑜𝓈𝑒 𝓈𝒸𝓇𝓊𝓃𝒸𝒽 𝓌𝒽𝑒𝓃 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓁𝒶𝓊𝑔𝒽𝑒𝒹?
𝒪𝒽...𝒽𝑜𝓌 𝐼'𝒹 𝑔𝒾𝓋𝑒 𝓉𝑜 𝒽𝑒𝒶𝓇 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝓁𝒶𝓊𝑔𝒽𝓉𝑒𝓇 𝒶𝑔𝒶𝒾𝓃. 𝒯𝑜 𝓈𝑒𝑒 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝓈𝓂𝒾𝓁𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝓈𝒽𝒾𝓃𝑒𝓈 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒷𝓇𝒾𝑔𝒽𝓉𝓃𝑒𝓈𝓈 𝑜𝒻 𝒶 𝓉𝒽𝑜𝓊𝓈𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓈𝓉𝒶𝓇𝓈 𝒸𝒶𝓊𝑔𝒽𝓉 𝒾𝓃 𝒶 𝒸𝓊𝓅𝓅𝑒𝒹 𝓅𝒶𝒾𝓇 𝑜𝒻 𝒽𝒶𝓃𝒹𝓈....
︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵
The lake always looks mystical early in the morning at this time of year. A faint mist rolls over the mirrored surface as dancers in orange and yellow descend from their places in the comforting embrace of timber and bark. Soldiers of fading green, browns and oranges line the lake, swaying in the soft, chilly breeze.
Bird song and the gentle scurrying of the forest’s dwellers is the perfect symphony to this backdrop. Yes. This was why Fyodor always sat outside to write.
He felt a peace unlike anything else when he sat at his small outdoor table, the earth claiming the furniture by wrapping tendrils of green around its leg. He doesn’t mind. He never had any intentions of moving it after all.
A single page sat at his hands, one hand elegantly moving across it as he writes in Russian, his mother tongue. The sound of his pen scratching against the white sheet tickles his brain pleasantly, each stroke deliberate and careful.
Fyodor would only write the drafts of his novels on paper. He would never touch a keyboard. Even when conversing with his agent he would only use his phone. With his long distant friend and fellow author, he opted for letters.
Technology was something Fyodor wasn’t fond of.
His deep, purple eyes rise from the page, tired eyes scanning the horizon before him. He notices a few russet sparrows flying over the lake.
For a moment, he even thinks he can see a fox on the other side of the lake, disappearing into the treeline. Yes. This view was far more enjoyable than some television or computer screen.
He breathes deeply, taking in the rich, earthy air around him. It wouldn’t be long until this view would be painted in white, the frigid air forcing him to stay indoors far more than he would have liked to be there. The novelist was a homebody, that much was true. But he spent most of his time outdoors when he wrote his stories.
Or rather, attempted to.
His current novel had been giving him a bit of grief as of late.
“Romance novels are popular right now!” He could still hear his agent’s voice insisting. “With the works you’re already known for, I bet the world is dying to see your take on one! Plus, if we partner with this company and make it an international release, the revenue would tie you over so you can focus on a novel you actually want to write!”
Fyodor scoffs. He wouldn’t have even considered writing such a novel, were it not for the fact that his funds were looking a bit depressed as of late, due to a few recent large expenses that needed to be paid.
His eyes scanned over to his wristwatch; it was still a few hours yet until his guest would arrive. Another matter his agent had been too insistent on that Fyodor had begrudgingly accepted.
He didn’t understand why she had been so pushy about the matter of an assistant. He had managed so far on his own. He didn’t need any help. These were his stories to tell.
Sighing, Fyodor rises from his chair. He moves towards his small, cozy dwelling, his raven hair ruffled by the Autumn breeze. Perhaps a nice pot of tea would get those creative juices flowing again.
︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵
A soft breeze teases your hair and scarf as you walk up the winding stone path, heading deeper into the heart of the forest, an eerie fog cast across the sky.
The trees sway their branches in the wind as if greeting you as sunlight filters through the thick branches, showers of yellow and orange descending on your path as you walk.
You see an old, rough-looking tabby cat that gives a low mewl before disappearing over the fence like an elegant shadow.
You notice a few small cottages scattered around the area. One is at the top of a flight of narrow cobblestone steps. Another is nestled near some thick bushes and trees, almost devouring the structure in its natural embrace.
The thin fence lining the pathway is overgrown with thick vines and small flowers here and there, with tall trees and other flora about, creating an almost fairytale-like appearance. Everything here is quiet and still, aside from the chirps of a few insects and the whistling of birds.
You clutch your orange coat closer to your body, the fabric blending in with your environment as excitement runs through every inch of your veins.
This was the opportunity you had been searching for! What were the chances that you’d run into a literary agent while heading to the unemployment centre to ask for help? It was as though God himself had lifted an olive branch for you.
The agent, Vivian, had looked at you with such joy when you explained that you were looking for experience helping authors get their works published.
You wanted to help however you could, whether that be as an editor, a translator or even a beta reader! You just wanted a way to step into this field finally. You had grown up with a love for books and stories. You wanted to be part of the process to get these books created.
“Well, I have just the guy for you,” Vivian had replied, a small smirk on her lips as she handed you her business card with a name written on the back. The name of the novelist she had been helping for the past decade.
Fyodor Dostoyevsky.
You had never heard of the man before. Walking along the quiet stone path, heading towards a large archway overgrown with blossoming flowers, you wonder if he wrote under a pen name.
You were so excited to meet him! Oh, but you needed to calm down and relax. Don’t make this weird!
You walk through the archway, the gentle aroma of the blossoming flowers filling your senses as your eyes fall on the crystal-clear lake before you.
The water was a calm, almost mystical blue, with nothing disturbing its perfect surface. It looked like it could have been the subject of an oil painting. You blink, the trance broken as you notice movement.
An older gentleman sits at a small outdoor table, a small porcelain teacup in hand. You notice a few strands of grey in his otherwise dark hair, along with the dark crescent moons under his mystifying yet cold purple eyes. You wondered if they were from late nights of writing stories or brainstorming.
He looked more frail than you were expecting. Quite lithe. He reminded you of a scarecrow. He was almost swimming in the dark coat covering his shoulders, even his white scarf seemed to be looped multiple times more around his throat.
You tense as his eyes flicker up, meeting yours. The teacup moves back towards the saucer, resting upon it with a soft clink. He lifts one of his hands, beckoning you closer.
You come to stand before him, your heart pounding out of nervousness and excitement. This was it. The first day of the rest of your life! Things would only be looking up from here!
Before you can speak, the gentleman interrupts you. His thick Russian accent sends a slight shiver down your spine, “You’re the assistant Vivian sent.” He looks you up and down slowly.
You can feel the judging look in his eyes as he scans you carefully, “You have no experience in this field and yet you agreed to be my assistant. Fascinating…”
You swallow, trying to calm yourself. You almost burst into excited rambles as you begin to speak in a rather rapid tone, your giddiness getting the better of you, “Y-yes sir! You see, it’s always been a dream of–”
“Enough.” He says suddenly, shaking his head. Those dark eyes of his stare coldly into yours, your excited heartbeat being frozen still in your chest as he adds, “I do not wish to hear your life story. You are here to do a job. And I expect you to do it well.”
You try and speak up, “Shouldn’t we go inside–”
“No. You will work out here,” he cuts you off as he reaches down to a leather bag by the side of his chair, hidden from view. He lifts it, passing it over to you as he speaks, “Within this is the first three chapters of my latest novel. I need you to proofread, edit and translate it into English by the end of the week.”
You tense; the end of the week? You supposed you could handle that. What’s the most he could have done? Really? Maybe ten thousand words total? You take out the first group of papers. It looks like he’s stapled each chapter together. There’s no title page yet, so it starts straight on the prologue.
One issue becomes apparent very quickly. One big, glaring issue. Fyodor’s handwriting. He had written in fluent Russian from what you could tell.
But his handwriting was quite…well, it was cursive? It was hard for you to put into words. The best way you could describe it was like a doctor’s handwriting.
“Excuse me, Mr. Dostoyevsky?” You look up from the first page. Fyodor is gazing across the lake, sipping on his tea once more. He doesn’t spare you a glance as you continue, your tone soft and polite, “I’m having some trouble reading your handwriting. I don’t suppose you have a typed version I could reference instead?”
His dark eyes slowly turn over to you. You swear you feel the cold of a hundred Winters rush through your body at once, “If you can’t translate it, then I shall call Vivian right now and inform her that sending someone illiterate does not help me in the slightest.”
‘Illiterate??’ You quietly think, feeling both offended and furious. ‘At least my writing doesn’t look like a chicken walked all over my page!’ Biting your tongue, you nod.
You would make this work, just to spite this guy. ‘Just think about the end goal. Someone out there is going to love this book. You just need to focus on your goal..’
It’s a daunting task, one you weren’t sure you could achieve. But you were going to put your damnest into this job more so than ever now.
✩
Eyeing his new assistant from across the table, Fyodor’s heart twists in some cold form of rebellion and anger. Vivian didn’t mention that she was sending someone like you.
Had he known that, he would have called his overseas friend to go and stay with him while working on this novel that he didn’t even want to write.
His eyes scan you, watching as your pen glides across the paper, translating his words carefully. A smug smirk rises onto his lips, noting how many times you stop and start. He notices the way your brows furrow in irritation. You were already struggling.
It was only a matter of time before you gave up and admitted defeat, running away from his little piece of heaven with tears in your eyes and a white flag in your hands.
He liked that thought. That thought brought him peace.
“You’re going to have to work faster than that,” he suddenly says, sounding very proud of himself. You don’t look up, your hands and eyes continuing to move as he adds, “Vivian wants the book by the end of the year. If you can’t handle getting three chapters done by the end of the week, you’re useless to me and any other author.”
He notices your jaw clenching. He sees the way you swallow down whatever response you keep to yourself, instead replying with a soft “Yes, Mr. Dostoyevsky.”
If he breaks you down enough, will you submit faster? Will that get you away from him faster? He’s silent for a long while, his gaze slowly returning to the scenic view before him.
It soothes him and assures him he will soon have his space and peace returned to him. He lifts his teacup, sipping the warm liquid slowly. He just had to bide his time and wait. You would crack eventually. He would make sure of it.
︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵
Even though Fyodor treated you coldly and barely even spoke to you, you were intrigued by his writing. It felt like his words had a grip on you, filling you with the urge, that desperate need to know what happens next.
The novel was about a young man. From what you had read, he was an extremely lonely man. No matter how Fyodor wrote him, or what scenes he was in, he was always alone, even when surrounded by people. But there was one thing you wouldn’t understand.
“If this is supposed to be a romance novel,” you say slowly. “Then where is the other lead? What’s this guy going to romance, himself in the mirror?”
“Oh come on now, cut him some slack,” the warm voice of your best friend chimes over the phone. “This is just the first three chapters, right? He’s probably just laying down the groundwork for now. I mean..”
She pauses, hesitating before adding in a teasing tone, “The main female lead in that story you read didn’t get a proper romantic interest till like, what, book four?”
“Hey, you say that like I wanted her to have one!” You joke, giggling as you walk up the winding stone path on your way to Fyodor’s.
It was almost week’s end and despite having a handful of paragraphs left, you were almost done translating the first three chapters. Though it wasn’t an easy task.
You had learnt that Fyodor had a habit of rambling in his stories. Sometimes, this made parts more fleshed out. More interesting and intriguing to you. But you didn’t need to know the full backstory of some random man sitting by a lake if he wasn’t going to be important to the story later on.
“I want to give him some advice,” you say into the phone, your voice suddenly more serious. You notice the pair of village cats nearby as you pause in place.
The younger orange tabby cat attempts to play with the old tabby, the older of the pair growling as he backs away, “But is it my place to give him advice? I mean…he is the author. It’s his story. I have no right to tell him how to write it.”
You hear a hum on the other end of the line as you start moving again, approaching the familiar archway. Then, “You could always try it. But this Fyodor guy doesn’t sound like the type who would take your advice onboard. You’re still so new to this field, your ears are still green!”
You chew on your inner cheek, sighing. The chances that Fyodor would listen to you were slim to none. You understood that already. It didn’t take a genius to know where you stood in his regard.
But you wanted to help Fyodor make improvements to his book. You look up at the archway, a gentle breeze pushing against your back as you sigh in defeat.
“I’ll call you tonight and let you know how badly he chews me out.” You end the call, hiding your phone in your pocket, walking through the archway and into the lush clearing. You were already expecting to be greeted with the typical iciness from the author as you approach his table.
“Ah, you’re finally here,” he greets you. His tone isn’t exactly friendly, but it’s not as frosty as you were expecting. There’s a faint hint of hibiscus in the air as the soft breeze draws the scent of his tea of the day to you.
Yesterday was ginger. The day before was turmeric. He always had a fresh pot every morning when you arrived.
But he never offered you a cup.
Regardless, you come to sit at his table, your chair creaking faintly as you reach into your messenger bag, pulling out the last few pages of the first three chapters of his novel before speaking, “I’ve almost finished with these chapters,” you let him know, a flame of warmth in your voice.
“I only have a few more paragraphs to go. Though I have to say–”
You rummage around your bag, searching for your lucky pen as you continue, “--I quite enjoy your writing. It's captivating. Sometimes I feel like I’m hanging on the end of your every word–”
“Flattery will get you nowhere,” Fyodor quickly interjects, deep eyes narrowing at you, the dark hoops under his eyes making him look more menacing. A shiver runs down your spine as he nods at the paper before you, “Get to work and stop wasting your time with idle chatter.”
‘Oh, so I can’t even compliment you?’ You quietly think, your hand wrapping around your lucky pen.
You pull the gold and black ballpoint pen out, clicking it to life as you begin working, huffing and puffing in annoyance in your mind, ‘Fine then. Maybe I just won’t speak to you again. God, I hope all writers aren’t this entitled.’
You catch yourself, your fingers caressing the side of the ballpoint pen as the gold edge shines in the early sun. No…you knew all writers weren’t like Fyodor. He was a rotten apple surrounded by batches of bright, red fruit.
He wasn’t going to stop you from reaching your dream.
He would not stomp that flame out.
A silence falls over you and Fyodor. It’s not an uncomfortable silence, but it’s not quite pleasant either. It just simply is. You glance up now and then to see Fyodor sipping on his tea, his eyes always drawn to the distance.
You scan his expression for a few moments, your pen stopping its movements.
He doesn’t notice you looking at him as he stares almost longingly into the distance, his dark eyes shrouded with depths of emotion you struggle to comprehend.
But there is one emotion there that is most obvious to you. It’s a look of deep, suffocating loneliness.
He stares, as if seeing something in the distance you cannot. He is silent and still. You barely even see his chest rising and falling with his breaths as a gentle breeze tousles his raven hair, as though an invisible hand would be combing through each lock with a careful, almost affectionate touch.
Then, as if returning to reality, he blinks, his gaze slowly shifting to meet yours. You stare at one another, frozen in time for just a heartbeat. There is no coldness, no scolding. Just you and him and his sad, lonely eyes. For a moment, you almost decide to ask if he’s okay.
Almost.
But as quickly as you see this side of Fyodor, it disappears under frozen blinds and walls of ice. His dark eyes glare at you, hiding the emotions you saw behind a careful shield as he scolds, “Why are you wasting time staring into space? Get back to work.”
You shake your head, snapping out of your trance, eyes gliding back to the paper at your hands. You don’t speak a word and merely focus on those last few paragraphs.
You knew what you saw. That cold facade cracked for just a moment to reveal something more to this man than you originally thought.
There was more to Fyodor than the cold wall you kept smashing again.
Your pen glides across the paper, finishing the last few translated lines. You smile to yourself, placing the ballpoint pen down on the garden table before looking up at Fyodor, pride glittering in your eyes.
You’d completed the first obstacle he’d put in your way, “I’m done, Mr. Dostoyevsky.”
His eyes graze over your smile, the proud glimmer in your eyes, then move down towards the sheet of paper at your fingertips. He turns his body, sitting at the table properly now as he nods at you, “Let me check.”
Taking the rest of the pages out of your bag, you slide each completed chapter over to him, your hands carefully caressing the top sheet before passing it over.
You were hoping this would prove your value to Fyodor and get him to start treating you…well, like someone trying to help him. Like a proper translator. Like someone actually trying to get his book published.
He’s silent for a long while as he flips through the translated chapters. He murmurs to himself every now and then in Russian; sometimes he sounds almost fascinated. Other times, he sounds annoyed.
Then, at last, when he’s midway through the second chapter, “This is precisely why I didn’t want to do an international release. My words simply do not translate well into English.”
“We could work together to find a suitable substitute for your words in English,” you suggest. The moment his dark eyes pierce into yours, you gulp. “If you wanted to. It won’t be exactly the same but I’m sure we could find a nice middle ground.”
He’s silent for a while as if thinking over your words. Then his eyes travel back to the page, murmuring, “We can try. But I assure you, you won’t be able to translate it perfectly. The English language is incapable of properly translating what I’m attempting to convey–”
‘There he goes again, acting all high and–,’ your grumpy thoughts are interrupted as a thought strikes you like a bolt from the blue. You resist the urge to gasp.
Wait…was this the first proper, positive reaction you’ve gotten from Fyodor? He accepted you reaching out a hand to him?
Then maybe now was your chance! You gasp a little, suddenly standing up, much to both yours and Fyodor’s surprise.
He looks up at you, taken off guard as you suddenly blurt out, “Um! In that case, I had some other advice I wanted to give to! It’s in regards to that man you focus the second chapter on!”
“I don’t know if he has any significance to the plot or not, but is it really necessary to have the last twenty pages focused just on his backstory?"
"Because it seems like you could use these pages to develop the male lead further or even bring in the female lead! Are you intending for him to have a larger role or–”
“You dare to have the audacity to lecture me on how to write my novel?” Fyodor’s cold voice cuts you off, his eyes narrowing at you dangerously.
You can almost feel your voice being stolen by his anger, as he continues you glare daggers at you so sharp, that you feel that little shred of confidence and pride you’d finally gained being ripped to shreds before you.
“You translate three chapters and that’s it? You’re suddenly an expert in the writing world, are you?” He scoffs, laughing at you mockingly. He tosses the translated pages onto the table, his eyes continuing to stare into your own shocked eyes.
His voice grows harsher as he suddenly begins to speak in his native tongue.
“Сверхуважаемая госпожа, я хочу напомнить вам, что ваше право на собственное мнение не обязывает меня слушать этот бред. Молчание - великий талант. Мой совет вам: если у вас будут мысли, держите их при себе; в наше время умные люди молчат, а не разговаривают. Я вас здесь не нанял для авторского выступления, так что будьте любезны, работайте и не стройте из себя Александром Сергеевичем Пушкиным.” *
He stands suddenly, leaving you stunned in place, unable to find your voice. You watch in stunned horror as he storms towards his cottage, tucked and hidden within the wilderness of the trees and shrubbery.
He enters it, slamming the door behind him before you can utter another word. You feel both stunned and horrified. You had no idea what he had just said to you but why did it feel like you just lost your job?
︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵
“You should have cut him some slack.”
“Do you really think I need to hear that right now?”
“You know it wasn’t your place to criticize him like that–”
“I know…I don’t know what came over me…” You sigh heavily, sinking into the thick duvet on your bed as your heart aches within the tight confines of your chest.
The sound of the city beyond your apartment blares outside. The distant siren of an ambulance. The loud yells of passerbys. A dog’s loud barks as the scent of cigarette smoke and fumes waft through your apartment window.
It wasn’t the classiest apartment, very far from it, but it was the only place you could afford right now with the allowance you were receiving from the government, along with what little savings you had left.
You sigh, running a hand through your messy hair, “I genuinely didn’t mean to do it. I just got so excited. I felt like he was finally accepting me into his world…” You lower your voice, sounding more upset. “But now I’ve gone and ruined it all…not even a week in...”
You lift your other hand, holding up your gold and black ballpoint pen once more. You twirl it between your fingers, Fyodor’s harsh expression still vivid in the back of your mind. You felt like you really offended him. You hadn’t meant to. You just wanted to help.
But you understood how your words had come across as hurtful. You didn’t know the story Fyodor was plotting out. You didn't know if this man was going to play a pivotal role and yet you–
You hear a loud crunch on the other end of the line, causing you to wince and yelp in surprise, your thoughts broken through instantly, “Ack! Trixie! Hold the phone away next time!”
“Mrm! Sorry girl, but look-” Trixie goes silent for a few moments while she finishes chewing whatever she’s eating.
Then, she speaks again, sounding quite calm as she gives you her advice, “--I think you owe him an apology. This guy is not only your senior career wise, but he’s the literal author of the book you’re translating.”
You frown as she goes on, your eyes glued to your ballpoint pen as the streetlight outside touches it, making the golden parts gleam, “What kind of things does he like? You know, besides sitting and staring at the lake all day.”
You think over Trixie’s words, eyes sparkling with the golden hue coming from your pen. Fyodor hadn’t spoken to you much these past few days since you began working as his translator.
He greeted you, scolded you to start work and then sat in silence until the day’s end. Did he like anything besides staring at the lake and–
Suddenly, you sit up in your bed, and your loose, white nightgown drops over your frame, the old springs of the bed squeaking softly. That was what you could get him to apologize!
You would need to get some research in tonight and wake up early to head to the store tomorrow. You were sure there was a speciality store for this type of thing on the other side of town.
Moments before you’re about to hang up, you get a second call. Your eyes widen as you read the name on the screen; Vivian. Your heart leaps into your throat.
“Sorry Trix, I have to go,” you quickly say, rising from your bed to move over to your kitchen counter where your laptop was sitting, charging. “I’ll call you when I can.”
“Keep me updated on your situation with your author man!” Trixie manages to chime back before you end the call, picking up Vivian’s seconds later.
“Yes? Hello, Vivian?” You quickly answer, holding your phone with your cheek while typing into your laptop’s keyboard, searching through the specific results you had pulled up.“I’m surprised you’re still up. I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised; all those involved in the literary world seem to be night owls.” She chuckles, before clearing her throat.
You scroll through the results page as Fyodor’s agent keeps speaking to you, “I presume you know why I’m calling. I just got off the phone to Fyodor regarding the…incident.”
The incident…
You cringe at it being referred to like that. Your heartbeat picks up as you stand up straight, a deeply apologetic tone in your voice, “I know, I know, I was in the wrong. It’s Mr. Dostoyevsky’s book and he’s free to write however he pleases. I just got a little head of myself and–!”
“Easy,” Vivian whispers soothingly. It almost feels like she’s there with you, patting your shoulder and assuring you it's okay. “Fyodor is still a tad…appalled at your behaviour, but I have managed to convince him to give you another chance due to how efficiently and well you translated his first chapters.”
A gasp escapes your throat; before your hopes can get too high, she quickly adds in a tone that reminds you of a stern teacher, “But this is your last chance. He’s said if you step out of line again, you’re out.”
“No…no, I understand perfectly!” You run a hand through your messy hair, resisting the urge to jump and dance around in glee. Oh thank God, you didn’t lose this chance!
Your gaze flickers back towards the laptop screen, the results still silently waiting for you. You knew you still had to apologize properly for what you had done.
“I promise, neither of you will regret this.” You begin writing down an address frantically on a sticky note, looking up the coordinates to the location on the other side of town.
You click your tongue, planning everything out in your head. Yes, if you wake up earlier, you will have the time to swing by and get everything ready before visiting Fyodor tomorrow morning without being late.
Suddenly, Vivian’s voice breaks through the silence, cutting you out of your thoughts, “I shouldn’t be saying this but do me a favour, would you?” She pauses for a moment. You focus more on her as she adds, “Cut Fyodor some slack.”
“Wh-what?” Is all you manage to breathe out. Everyone keeps telling you to do that. Were you in an echo chamber? Or did everyone else just see something you couldn't?
She continues, sighing heavily and you swear you hear a pen being placed down, judging from the gentle tap you hear on her side of the call.
“It isn’t my tale to tell, but I will inform you that Fyodor has been through a lot as of late.” You frown deeply as you hear this.
“This is his returning novel after taking some time away from his career, so all I ask is that you show him the same patience you would want to be shown.”
Your mind stews those words over silently as you chew the inside of your cheek.
The novelist you were working with was an enigma. He was more mysterious than the deepest pits of the ocean, and more closed off than a crime scene. You only had his name. His career. And the gift of being able to read his captivating story. Well, part of it.
Just who was Fyodor exactly? And what had he gone through to make him the way he is now?
︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵
The sky was overcast and angry as you began to make your trek towards Fyodor’s quaint cottage. You sprint along the stone path as the sky rumbles like a beast, growling as the clouds light up, warning you of the upcoming downpour that is about to begin.
Clutching the bouquet you’d bought close, along with the small gift bag, you run through the archway.
The usual clear, mirror-like surface of the lake was black and menacing, nowhere near as picturesque as it had been for the entire week.
No birds were singing. Branches waved violently in the strong winds that buffeted against them, sending spirals of leaves cascading around, like mini tornados of color.
You barely manage to hold onto your bouquet and gift, grimacing as you notice Fyodor isn’t sitting at the usual spot today. You look towards his cottage, the trees and shrubbery around it rustling violently against the strong gusts as well.
They almost look like they’re clinging onto the cottage to keep themselves rooted. You catch a glimpse of that old tabby cat sprinting up to the door, his paws reaching up and scratching at the timber desperately and at once, it opens.
You see Fyodor, wrapped in a thicker cloak than normal along with what seems to be an old ushanka on his head, keeping his face warm. He opens the door to let the feline inside, cloak dragging on the floor behind him like a cape.
Rubbing against the Russian’s legs, the tabby darts inside, away from the rough weather. But he doesn’t follow the feline; his dark eyes lift, meeting yours across the way.
He watches as the wind tousles your long hair as though playing with the elegant strands, your bright, vibrant coat of orange a stark contrast against the blackening sky but matching perfectly with the leaves falling from rustling trees around you.
He sees the way your brown scarf aggressively sways in the violent breeze as the sky growls a final warning. He says nothing as he watches you. Is he waiting for you? His eyes scan you once, twice…it’s like he’s taking you in for the first time.
Like this, you look like a single glowing ember in the darkness of the world, seconds away from being snuffed out and devoured by the shadows.
Not wanting to be left out in this downpour, you sprint towards Fyodor, a loud crack echoing across the sky as it lights up, lighting striking somewhere in the distance as you pick up the pace.
Without a word still, he steps aside, letting you run in just as it begins to storm. Cold droplets pour from the sky as it roars, another loud crack is heard in the distance. Rain begins to patter loudly on the roof of Fyodor's humble home, almost cleansing the land.
You hear the door close, along with a lock being turned, clicking into place. You turn to face Fyodor, noticing that the room is not illuminated by the bulbs hanging overhead but by candlelight. There are candleholders along the wall, lighting the hallway in a warm, welcoming light.
Flickers of yellow dance across Fyodor’s face, his dark purple eyes practically invisible in the dark of the cottage.
Gripping the bouquet tighter, you hesitate to hand it over. Then, at last, you do, presenting the brilliant bouquet with a gentle hand. “Here,” you say softly, almost silently. “These are for you.”
You watch as his calculating eyes trace along each chosen flower; the blue hyacinths to the white orchids, to the few lilies of the Valley. He hesitates to accept them as his eyes turn back to you.
He must be waiting to hear her apology out loud, “I’d like to say I’m sorry for overstepping.” The plastic around the bouquet crinkles as you grip it tighter.
“I am both your junior and not an author,” you begin, fighting back down every inch of your pride to make sure your apology comes across as genuine.
“I had no right to tell you how to write your story. I’m only here to translate it into English so I’m sorry. It will not happen again.” You also present your other hand, holding the gift bag out to Fyodor.
“I hope you can forgive me and we can start fresh.”
He eyes the gift bag, reaching for it first. He peers inside, hiding his surprise behind his cold eyes as he notices the variety of tea leaves you’ve purchased for him.
These are all high-quality leaves from a teashop on the other side of town. Passionfruit drop. Cream black tea. Autumn spice. He looks up at you, raising a brow curiously.
You squirm under his gaze, anxiously waiting for a reply. Would he accept the apology? Would he not? It felt like time was frozen as you and Fyodor stared at one another, his deep, purple eyes peering into the very depths of your soul as if trying to see if you were truly sorry in the very pit of your heart.
Then he moves past you. You feel your heartbeat freeze in your chest and then–
“Come along. I will brew some tea while you begin work translating chapter four.”
Warmth spreads across your chest instantly, your heart fluttering in your chest, a smile breaking out on your face as you turn, following Fyodor through the candlelit hall towards what you presumed to be the kitchen, your apology bouquet in hand.
You wouldn’t admit it out loud, but you were both glad Fyodor had seemingly accepted your apology…and excited to read the fourth chapter of his novel. Even if he rambled on for the next forty pages and didn’t progress the plot.
Your ankle boots click against the old wooden flooring as you hurry after the author.
✩
You were an enigma to Fyodor. Despite the cold walls he had placed securely around himself and the distance he had tried to keep from you, you kept coming back.
Did this job really mean that much to you or were you just that desperate for money?
Or perhaps you were here for other reasons.
The kettle’s loud whistle shakes Fyodor from his web of thoughts.
He takes it off the stove, bringing it over to his preferred ceramic teapot, decorated with painted pink carnations, filling it with the boiling water before moving on to inserting the mesh tea infuser, full of some of the new leaves you brought him.
As the aromatic smell of spices fills the air, he turns his thoughtful eyes to where you sit at his dining table, reading over the fourth chapter of his novel.
He sees your smile behind the pages. The way your eyes gleam as you read and reread paragraphs. It even looked like you were no longer struggling to read his handwriting.
He felt warmth stirring in his heart. Fyodor had seen from reviews and heard from Vivian that his works were well-beloved, but seeing you smile and the joy in your eyes was something else entirely. It stirred something deep within his soul.
You actually did enjoy his story. You weren’t just going along with the crowd or agreeing with a friend because it was a popular piece. You were genuinely enjoying his work. He feels his heart pound for just a second before he turns away, focusing on the tea.
With slender hands, he pours the rich, orange liquid into the prepared porcelain teacups, the fragrance growing even stronger in the room.
Between the sound and smell of the pouring rain and terrifying thunder and the earthy, aromatic smell of the Autumn spice tea, Fyodor felt his shoulders relaxing as he brought the two teacups over to the dining table, just in time to hear you gasp quietly.
Ah, you must’ve gotten to the part where the female lead is fleetingly introduced. For a moment, Fyodor finds himself smiling.
Dividers: @/saradika
* Translation: Dear Madam, I want to remind you that your right to your own opinion does not oblige me to listen to this nonsense. Silence is a great talent. My advice to you: if you have thoughts, keep them to yourself; Nowadays, smart people are silent, not talking. I didn’t hire you here for an author’s speech, so be kind, work and don’t pretend to be Alexander Sergeevich Pushkin.
#bungou stray dogs#fyodor x reader#fyodor dostoyevsky x reader#bsd x reader#bungou stray dogs x reader
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now playing…FORTNIGHT (spencer reid)
-“ˈfɔːtnaɪt: a period of two weeks”-
summary: in which your unlawful affair with fbi agent spencer reid must come to an end
genre: angst, flashback of fluff
cw!: allusions to cheating, kissing, inappropriate innuendos
a/n: this is acc so long but i promise its worth the read, first of many to come!
you watched as spencer methodically fiddled with his tie, a sign that no matter how loose he’d get it to be, it felt like he was choking. you grinned reminiscent, this had brought back to your mind the memory of your first date with him. except he had shorter, neater hair and a less bitter smile.
“how’s your wife” you said, pettiness laced in your words. your arms crossed over your chest, putting up invisible walls, distancing yourself mentally from him. pretending you weren’t thinking about how pretty he’d look under you.
“she’s…well.” he had given you a short, wary response. his eyes studied your face, landing on your lips, he licks his. most likely, he was trying to memorize everything, as if you were a fleeting moment. but you were. you were uncertain about his intents when his eyes wandered for a few seconds.
“how’s dan?” the word ‘dan’ came out with a petulant smile, and sour tone. flourishing the little likeness he had toward him.
the conversation bored you out of your mind. he was holding back. he could’ve said about a million things by now but he chose to keep silent, neglecting your tortured heart even more.
“i think he’s cheating on me, though im still not sure. but i have strong points on the subject, good reasoning” you say dismissively, looking down at your nails. the issue didn’t seem to faze you. after all, some could say you had committed certain behaviors that could allude as cheating.
spencer tried to bite back the grin that was forming on his face, he looked down to try and conceal it.
“i’m sorry about that…” his tone seemed untruthful. he wasn’t sorry about it, because he knew the things he’d done with you while both of you had a ring on your fingers.
you gnawed on your bottom lip. thinking of an ingenious comment that would make him laugh. a quip to start some friendly fire. something that could break through the crushing tension that lingered between the both of you, like thick vines wrapped around your neck, making you unable to speak.
‘i love you, it’s ruining my life’ was all that your brain could come up with, but of course, this wasn’t exactly the best thing to say given the setting and circumstances. but it was how you felt. you treasured every touch and every word, hanging onto every detail desperately. every fortnight that his wife would be out of town. it was unlawful, but, who were you to neglect an invitation with spencer reid? until then, your mornings are all mondays. stuck in an endless february. unable to move on from what should be yours.
you meet his gaze, regretting it almost immediately. knowing the lethal effects he had on you, like some sort of drunkenness that had turned you into a barely functioning alcoholic. his eyes change, his smile differs. he swallows, clearing his throat.
“we can’t do this anymore.” he speaks, his voice sounds brittle and unsure. you don’t break eye contact. you listen intently to his words.
“my wife…my wife knows that i don’t stay late at the BAU as much as i say i do.”
“im a profiler, i can lie but- it doesn’t take away from the fact that this can’t happen anymore.”
“i mean you know how i feel about you, i just- i just can’t keep up with the ruse. i love you and it’s ruining my life.”
your eyes widen at the last sentence, appalled. you tried to decipher spencer’s words. reading between the lines, seeking for some sort of clue that hinted towards the truth. if he loves you, why can’t he stay?
“okay…can we at least stay friends?” you ask him cautiously. even if it meant no more sneaking around, his eyes would at least stay in your life.
spencer swallowed harshly, your eyes lingering over his adam’s apple as he does so. he looks uncertain. you figure maybe his wife was the one with the real issue, not him. you wanted to kill her.
“sure” his voice was slightly above a whisper. he looked away. almost as if, if he continued to hold your gaze he’d had no choice but to give in. that’s what you wanted him to do, to cave in, like always. you wondered if this would be the last fortnight spent with him, and suddenly, realization hit you like a 10 ton truck. you looked down as well, confidence derailing.
“but you’re still my best friend, spence” your voice was nearly a whimper, sounding like a wounded dog. you look up at him with glassy eyes. tilting you head to the side slightly, eyebrows furrowed as you try to control your emotions. you look down, hands fidgeting nervously.
“yes, of course…we just can’t have those benefits anymore” he wants to do nothing more than to grab you and hold you in his arms. to say sorry for everything he had put your through. instead he looks to the waiter.
“check, please” he clears his throat and hopes the sound of his tearing heart isn’t too loud as you look up to look at him with tear rimmed eyes. you bite your bottom lip to stop it from trembling. spencer pays the tab, leaving a generous tip. you get up from your seat, incapable to look at spencer in the eye.
you don’t notice him stepping towards you. your breath hitches as you stare up at him, the closest you’ve been to him all night. his calloused hand cups your cheek, fingers tracing your face, to your under eye. you blink, cursing yourself internally as a tear slips. you look away. he sighs, wiping the tears carefully with his thumb.
“im sorry, you know what i’d do if i could…if things were different” his words are just more salt to fresh cuts. even if he sounded regretful, even if he was sorry, you still had the right to be sad.
“it’s fine, you aren’t mine, i shouldn’t be this sad” you harshly take a step back, wiping your eyes with the back of your hand. his mouth stays slightly agape at your sudden movement. he bites down at his lip, sighing, admitting defeat. you were right, he was never yours and you were never his. two parallel lines who never got the chance to see what could’ve been if the circumstances were different.
he had corrupted you, nights that belonged to only you would fade into a memory. the touches that lasted a fortnight. the feeling of his hands in your hair, your clothes on his bedroom floor.
you loved him, and it was ruining your life.
“goodbye, reid” you tone was purposefully cruel, and the choice of using his last name. you looked at him for a second, fighting the instinct of kissing him as a goodbye. he stared with pitiful eyes as you walked away, bell chiming as you opened and closed the door. for a moment he regretted everything said, wishing to just run away and live in the mountains, to follow through on that quiet life you had both talked about when the night passed 3am. tangled in bedsheets. he curses his eidetic memory for remembering your tearful expression, comparing it to the soft, sweet smile you had on every time you left him. can he erase every curve, every dimple he knew you had, every tiny change in your expression he could read like a book, over and over? no, he will be cursed with the gift of knowing, just like you’ll be cursed with the sound of his voice. soft and tender, the sound of his whispers of foreign words against your ear.
“Я тебя обожаю.” his voice is quiet, nose brushing against your neck as he places soft kisses against it. you giggle at the ticklish feeling, grabbing his face delicately to stop him.
“what does that mean?” you ask with a smile, pressing gentle kisses to the bridge of his nose, his face heating up in your hands.
“i adore you” he grins, leaning against your hand and kissing it.
“i know that but what does the sentence mean?” he rolls his eyes as you break out laughing, throwing your head over his shoulder, giggling as if it was the funniest joke you had ever told. you look up at him, both of you grinning widely as he places a proper kiss against your lips.
he loved you, it was ruining his life.
#spencer reid x you#spencer reid#spencer reid x reader#criminal minds#spencer reid fluff#spencer reid angst#spencer reid imagine#spencer reid fic#criminal minds imagine#criminal minds fic
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Character Analysis on Chip Revvington, the Chainsaw Consultant.
Genuine Long Post Warning, as well as a LOT of images. This is going to cover literally everything we know about Chip and my take on what's provided In Canon (being his Cogs Ink profile, his Interview, the 1.3 News Article, and In-Game). This is my first try at an In-depth Character Analysis. Screenshots used are from the official Wiki.gg, In-Game, and from the Corporate Clash News Archive.
Prior to being brought on to lead the Deforester Force, it's shown he's clearly a confident Suit, and has a genuine passion for his line of work as a consultant. With his personal statement alone this can be seen on full display with how he writes about himself, including noting how he's not swayed by bribery in any manner. (also the fact he outright pokes fun at one of the bribes will never not be funny to me)
Not to mention his lack of discipline records throughout his 19 months having already worked for C.O.G.S. with his usual job as an external consultant, this plus the fact he has "positive remarks" from his previous places of work shows he's probably in very high demand and really does excel at his job.
This is also shown in his interview, where he also equally shows a lot of passion for his job and genuine interest with answering questions relating to it. Before we get into that though, I feel like it's important to also point out a couple other things that I think about a lot with his profile.
This, being referred to as the "Temperamental Terminator" in the 1.3 trailer, and considering the average age of a Consultant is ~40+ years (and I personally hc him as 48), I think it's safe to say Chip just always was a quick-tempered individual throughout his life. It's one of his less favorable traits that I personally find charming.
And these read to me like Chip's always been considered "scary" among other suits. His behavior isn't the issue (yet) though, he's just a massive guy who happens to have a chainsaw for a snout.
Which. Makes this very interesting. Jennifer, stated something similar above, but I feel as if her intentions are more... unaware than the actual company's. Jennifer sees a guy with a big Chainsaw and thinks "Oh! He can cut down trees with that!" Jennifer ily. The company on the other hand probably has had this idea of what Chip could be a candidate for. They hired him to lead the Deforester Force. His job consists of him sitting in an office. Nothing relating to physical labor in cutting down trees, he just oversees the process. "Chainsaw apparatus will be helpful [...]" suddenly takes on a much darker meaning, in my mind.
Which is how we get here. Chip being modified with a clearly experimental hardware which we all know as the Personality Override. The fact that it was only "partially successful" is a very fun thing to consider.
Note the fact that from a canon standpoint the Override was implemented "2 weeks ago". This will be important later.
(The toon who got the above screenshots is not mine!)
Another fun side-note is the fact that the Override is experimental. It's experimental hardware. Chip is the only one with it. They are using him like a guinea pig. And not to mention "Dealing with Toons far more efficiently" paired with the above company-sourced "Chainsaw Apparatus will be useful [...]", you can't make this stuff up. They turned this guy into a living weapon likely without him knowing the full scope of what would happen if he did get this position in the first place.
Okay. Now we can talk about his Interview. Which even through glancing at it you can see just how passionate he is regarding his work. He is driven and confident that his plans for the Deforester Force will work. He wants to believe that he'll set an example for the rest of the departments to execute a similar plan.
And then this question comes up.
And then I have to remind you it's probably been only a couple days since he's modified.
And he already has rumors circulating about him.
And the moment the subject is changed, he perks right back up into being passionate about his work.
I also feel like it's worth mentioning the fact he's been actively requesting and wanting Spruce (who recommended him to begin with!!!) to join him in the Deforester Force and keeps being turned down on it. The way this and something else I'm about to touch on are written feels like he's barely been able to see him. These two have a brotherly bond and they're being separated. He misses his brother, man.
That's not even getting into this. Even as I'm writing this I just realized the implications of something at the end of this and I'm going to have to pace around my house thinking about it. But also you can see that even though just the slightest amount of time has canonically passed since the interview, you can already see the toll the Override's been taking on Chip's behavior. While he was once passionate, he's now actively complaining about his job. It's not even about the job itself, it's about what's happened to him.
Not to mention, I feel it also displays his temper in full swing once again- even if he's justified in this sense.
I also need to pay special mind to this ending bit right here because the implication of this with everything else surrounding it fucking broke me. uugghhhhh.
Now this is something I feel is so, so, so important to his character. He actively does not like toons. He clearly shows a certain disgust for them and views them like Animals. Pests. He doesn't hesitate to proudly state his opinion on them. And then you see him in-game.
He hasn't changed his mind about toons at all. Ignoring the fact that "you critters again" insinuates this isn't even his first contact with toons (will get to this later), he's... Restrained. I don't know, this reads to me like he's actively restraining himself from blowing up. "You don't want to see what happens when I get angry." is a warning to just comply and leave.
And then because he doesn't remember he fired the rest of the Deforester Force (another thing I want to touch on), he actively gets upset and angry at the remaining flunky because of course someone as high-rank as himself wouldn't want a Flunky on such an important team. Once again, additionally showing his active temper. His active temper he just tried to restrain and bottle up.
And that's what breaks the camel's back. The Override most likely activates from excessive anger/distress, something that Chip Actively Struggles With. He has to bottle himself up because if he tries to be his usual hot-tempered self, which is who he naturally is, he's just going to lose himself. Lose himself to cog knows how long as being a lifeless machine that perfectly and efficiently complies with the commands its given.
He begs for help when he's able to partially regain control (emphasis on partially, considering the most he can do is speak and prevent Deadwood from happening), but like. Again, to me this reads as the fact he is currently Incredibly Fucking Terrified because he's completely aware the whole time the Override is active. He can see himself acting against his will. It's mortifying. He's willing to beg anyone for help because the Override is genuinely traumatizing for him.
Which makes this all the more harrowing. He can't keep the Override at bay forever (likely the only reason why he partially regained control is from the sheer amount of pain he put himself in by ripping out one of his bulbs. You can see him brace himself and wince when that happens). Once again, "save yourselves" in this context feels more like he's scared. He's terrified. Because the Override sucks. And the implication of "ALL RAM CLEARED" doesn't leave much room to assume anything other than the Override likely clears out Chip's memories in order to make more processing room for this janky hardware to run at a constant overclocked state. I wonder how much of Chip's memories have been removed because of that thing, honestly.
By the way did you know that a normal chainsaw runs an average of 12,000 RPM. Do you think about how the little RPM icon is his saw smoking as if it's overheating. What the hell is the Override doing to him internally.
Another added touch I think about a lot is how his battle as a whole is, for the most part, very predictable. You control what cheats he does. Even in technical battle terms, everything is out of Chip's control. As long as every gag hits, you're really just manipulating an enemy's AI to to make the most optimal choices to your benefit. The Override perceives "X", and responds with "Y". You're not fighting an actual individual, just a program.
Clearly, whatever it's doing to him, it's painful (not mentioning the agonizing scream he lets out during this). And thank Cog he was able to regain control at the last second because it's way too obvious that the Override's "final fallback procedure" likely involved some kind of lethal force when it lunges at the toons. (The Chainsaw Apparatus will be helpful.)
There's no sorrow in Chip's words, that's what I think. Everything here is bitter. It's numb, to me.
He's clearly been through this song and dance multiple times by now.
He's pissed at the toons, at the company, and at himself. But he can't properly let it out. You know what will happen if he does. The most he can do is throw a chair and scream into the air. (which that line gets its own custom voice clip, fun fact!)
It's clear he's been isolated ever since he's been upgraded, and it seems like he's bitterly accepted it. The only thing he has left to lose is Spruce, which is why he tells the toons not to tell him. If he loses Spruce...
I don't think he'd have much left. It'd make sense why he's grown so restrained and numb and stilted in his speech. He's quickly grown to learn that he can't let himself express anymore, all because of the override.
The fact that everyone else around him views him poorly doesn't help. His employees fear him. Most of them probably don't realize something is wrong, spread rumors about him, or outright attack him through hatemail. Written in Cipher.
"Chip has some anger issues. I would be careful around him. Don't worry about the Cogs though, I'm sure they'll be fine. Might get demoted back to their initial tier, but that's what happens when you work with Chip. Good thing that Toons can't get fired-- or wait, they can, can't they? Do Toons LIKE getting fired? I will never understand those animals. And you seen Spruce around lately? I haven't. I wonder how his deforesting expedition is going. There is a secret message up ahead in Chip's room. Can you find it? If you are stuck, have you considered looking around your surroundings?"
"I can't stand Chip anymore. I know I'm a Yesman, but I have to say NO. He used to be cool up until his sensors flared off. After what he did to my fellow coworker, I don't know if I can continue working under him. Sure, he's one of the most organized managers I've ever worked with, not to mention the flowing passion he has for the Deforester Force. His personality issues can single-handedly cause all of our projects to collapse. One of my former coworkers had raised concerns about Toons taking over our buildings and ultimately undoing all work that was done on our end. That poor Pencil Pusher overstepped his boundaries with Chip when he admitted his failure to secure "our" project from the Toons. Up until this point, I have never seen a Cog fire another Cog. With a cannon."
"It grinded my gears when I saw that happen. Him and I worked nonstop for days straight, while this pile of bolts just sat there doing his paperwork. I wouldn't be surprised if he was just doing crossword puzzles or writing letters to his little buddy. If you are reading this Mr. Revvington, you are the reason for our decline. We are running out of Deforester Force members because of you. As someone who has gone through close-call battles with the Toons, I hope you experience what it's like to have boulders and anvils fall from above you. You can try to fire me with that shoddy cannon of yours, but you would have to track me down first. I've already left the area and was recruited to a new organization far more stable than you will ever be."
------
...I genuinely love Mr. Revvington. He's a Suit who's been dealt the worst hand he could possibly ever get in life. He was just like anyone else, and then everything happened ever since joining C.O.G.S.. He's isolated, he's temperamental, he's pissy, he'd genuinely be someone hard to get along with because of the fact he's struggling with all sorts of issues and would be incredibly difficult and annoying to even start talking to and forming a bond with unless you're both stubborn and have patience. He's awful, and I love him for it.
I genuinely believe he's one of the most complex, beautifully written, and depressing characters in Corporate Clash. Maybe I dive way too deep into things about him, maybe he's not that deep at all. But I like to think about him. He makes me emotional, but he also makes me happy. Thank you for making him exist.
#toontown#toontown corporate clash#corporate clash#chip revvington#corporateclash#ttcc#toontowncorporateclash#chainsaw consultant#character analysis#long post#image heavy#headcanons
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La Cosa Nostra- pt 13
(co-written with @schemmentis): Part 1. Part 2. Part 3. Part 4. Part 5. Part 6. Part 7. Part 8. Part 9. Part 10. Part 11. Part 12.
Summary: You and your wife spend some much needed time together, only for it to go up in flames.
WC: ~2.5k
When Melissa comes in, she finds you with both arms wrapped around your girls, them curled into your sides. She sees the tracks of the tears that had been pouring down your face earlier in the night, the pout of your bottom lip, the way that even in sleep and holding your girls you seem to be in distress.
Melissa quietly gets ready for bed before slipping in between the sheets. Rosie gladly curls up to her when she gently shifts her to her chest so she can shuffle closer to you. The hand not resting on a small back reaches, the backs of her fingers lightly caressing your cheek, imagining she can wipe the now dried tears away from you. “Ti amo, vita mia.” She whispers in the dark of the bedroom.
You blink awake in the dark a few hours later. Your girls are still softly sleeping. You roll over and nearly start crying again when you see your wife asleep and holding Rosie. You knew she would be home, eventually. Still, seeing her is a relief. You curl in closer to her as you close your eyes again. Maybe you can get an hour or two of actual good sleep now that Melissa is here. Before your girls try to pry your eyes open again.
You somehow manage to wake before either of your girls, or your wife. You convince half awake twins to settle for kissing Melissa's cheek and whispering good morning before you get up and get them breakfast. You don't even have to remind them to be quiet when they go back to do the same to say goodbye before taking them to school. You know they miss her, even after only one late night. You do too. But you'd hate to take any more rest from her.
You hug the girls goodbye at school and are walking across the lot back to your car when your phone rings. Your brow furrows. Your phone hasn't rung since you were taken off the salon. You tug it from your pocket, your confusion growing at Tony's name on the screen.
“Hello?”
“Hey, Y/N. Could you come down to the salon? It's kind of important.”
“Isn't all that your job now, Tony?” You all but sneer.
“Look, we gotta talk about some of the financials. So I need you to help me sort it out, alright?”
You roll your eyes. “I'll be there in a minute.” You reluctantly agree, hanging up before Tony can say anything else.
Despite you not being a part of the operation anymore, you still step through the back entrance of the salon. Tony wants to call you in? Then you're going to come in at the business end of it.
You stop halfway down the hall at the door of the back office being open. When it was you; you never left it open and unlocked. Too many important things were kept there. You glance inside, raising an eyebrow at the near emptiness of the office. The file cabinets are gone, and so is everything from on top of the desk. The room is empty aside from that desk in the middle of it.
“There you are.” Tony says as he turns down the hall. “C’mon.” He tugs you lightly by the arm into the office, shutting the door behind him.
“Quite the rearrangement, Tony.” You comment, putting your hands in your pockets as you pace around the desk. “What's goin’ on, huh? What'd you suddenly need me for?”
“The ledger.” Tony says, cutting to the chase. “We need the ledger for the other business.”
You look at Tony, head turning to the side. We? You think to yourself as you study him. Suddenly it's we. And you're not a part of that we. “No.” You finally say.
“What?? What d’you mean no? Look, Y/N, my ass is on the line now, and we need that ledger that you have to have.”
“Oh, I have it.” You say. For all intents and purposes, you do. Only you and your wife know where it is. “I just ain't giving it to you. Tell whoever you're answerin’ to that if they want it; they better talk to me directly. ‘Cause I ain't trustin’ it with you, Tony. I wouldn't have trusted you to balance the cash register drawer.”
He goes to argue, but your phone ringing interrupts him. You roll your eyes at him as you leave, answering it.
“Hello?”
“Babe, where are you? Why didn’t you wake me?” your wife nearly shouts into the phone. “I just woke up!”
“Honey, you needed the sleep,” you tell her softly.
“What I needed was to see my girls off to school and to check on my wife before heading into work- on time!”
Her shouting at you makes you tear up all over again as you slam the door to your car. “I’m sorry. I’ll come pick you-”
“Don’t even bother,” Melissa huffs. “I’ll walk the few blocks.” And then she hangs up on you.
Your heart nearly shatters in your chest, and your eyes instantly well up with more tears that threaten to spill over. “Mel,” you whisper out softly.
You do still drive the way to her work, and when you get there, she’s just storming in. It’s clear she’s on a warpath as she slams the back door and throws her bag on the chair in the office. You step in a few seconds later, sending a sympathetic look at Valentina; she looks horrified.
“Mel,” you whisper as you wrap your arms around her waist, trying to stop her anger. She just shrugs you off. “Mel, please.” Your voice breaks as your heart actually does shatter this time.
She turns around at the hiccup in your voice, and there’s a fire in her eyes that dies out as soon as she sees the redness in your eyes and the tears that are there.
“Mi amore,” she whispers as she pulls you in.
“Mel, I- I’m sorry,” you whisper. “I’m so sorry I didn’t wake you this-”
“Hey,” she hushes you gently. “Don’t worry about it. I’m sorry I got so frustrated and yelled. I just… this all has me stressed to the max, and I took it out on you. I’m sorry.”
You cry into her shoulder, and your wife is quick to kick the door shut with her heeled foot. You cry just as harshly and abrasively as you did last night, although this time you don’t have to stifle the sobs that come bubbling out of your body.
“Honey,” she whispers as she rubs your back soothingly. “Baby.”
“I- I don’t even know,” you continue to shake with the sobs that rack through your body.
It takes you much longer to calm down than she hopes. But eventually she does, and after checking her progress on the ledger, she ushers you out of the building. She shouts to Valentina that she’s in charge, at least for this morning, and if someone comes in with an envelope full of money to just leave it on her desk.
“Melissa, you can stay,” you whisper as you wipe at your nose with your sleeve. “I’ll be- I’ll be fine.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” Melissa answers, leading you to the passenger side of your car. “If anything big goes on; Val will call me. Right now, you’re more important, amore.” She squeezes the hand she’s been leading you out by lightly, her head nodding for you to get in.
It’s only once you do that she closes the door for you before rounding the car and sliding into the driver’s seat. She reclaims your hand once you’ve buckled your seatbelt, kissing your knuckles as she pulls out of the parking lot.
“You really could have stayed.” You say quietly.
She squeezes your hand again, glancing away from the road just long enough to raise an eyebrow at you before looking back. “I’m not gonna leave ya when you’re clearly not okay. And don’t go saying you’re fine. I know when you’re lyin’, remember?”
You sigh, leaning back in your seat for the short drive back to your home. “I’m just…over emotional with all the changes. It’ll pass. I’ll be fine.”
“You’ll be fine, that much is true.” Mel agrees though she keeps a hold of your hand held in her lap. “But I’m not going to just expect this to pass. It’s been a lot lately, yeah. But it ain’t like you to just…” She sighs, without finishing. “You’re gonna tell me ya weren’t this way last night, too? Before I got home?” She asks softly instead, her thumb gently passing repeatedly over your knuckles.
“It doesn’t matter.”
Melissa nods, with a half grin on her face. “Which just means yes.” She says. “This is more than just everythin’ goin’ on- even if it has been a lot lately. For right now, stop tryin’ to fight me on stayin’ home, and consider talkin’ to me and lettin’ me help instead, huh?”
You don’t say anything else on the rest of the short drive. Instead, you consider everything over in your mind. As if you haven’t already a hundred times. By the time you’re following Melissa into the house, you could have another anxiety breakdown without much push.
You gladly slip into her side on your couch, her arms that had been held out in invitation instantly wrap around you. You sigh, though you don’t begin crying again. You return your wife’s embrace equally, clinging to her as much as you’re curling up to her side.
“Talk to me, tesoro.” Melissa repeats quietly, kissing your temple as she holds you close.
“Did Sammy tell you I almost turned myself in the other week? When they had you in the station?” You can guess her answer before she gives it based on how you feel her briefly freeze against you.
“No.” Melissa finally answers, one of her hands gently rubbing across your shoulders. “He didn’t. Probably ‘cause he already knew I was seconds away from tearin’ somebody to shreds that day. You really almost did?”
You nod, sniffling slightly. “I just…didn’t know what else to do. All this pressure on us and then gettin’ you so involved….them tearing apart Twelve Tables… God, that was as bad as watching somebody beat you, Mel. It’s like the same thing. You worked so hard for it and they ruined it because of me and—”
“Shh,” Melissa murmurs, tugging you into her lap to hug you even tighter. “None of it’s because of you, amore. We talked about all this plenty before we got serious, didn’t we? Then all over again before we got married? Don’t go actin’ like I’m some innocent little housewife over here, huh? You treat me better than that. You treat me like your partner, your equal, in everything. Includin’ all this. I knew what we were gettin’ into when we started, baby. We both did.”
“I know,” you mumble into her side. “But now... it’s so much more than just us and the business. We have your restaurant now. We have the girls now. The only thing that stopped me from turning myself in was the girls. I- I couldn't turn myself in and miss everything for the next ten to twenty years... the teen years, graduating and sending them off to college, high school boy or girl drama... potential grandbabies.”
“If either of them has a baby before they’re twenty, we are going to have problems,” Melissa chuckles lightly.
“Well... if I wasn’t there, you know that data shows kids with one absent parent statistically are more likely to fall into...”
“Not our girls,” your wife states firmly. “If anything happens to one of us, I have full faith that those girls will stay on the right track because of whoever is left with them.”
You just sigh into her, inhaling the scent of the perfume that she has on. You take a few shaky breaths, tears threatening to spill over again. They don’t though. You have your anchor right now.
“What do you need right now?” your wife asks you gently, once your breathing becomes more regulated. “Comfort, a solution, or to just... sit in the shit together?”
You shrug against her, and she only kisses your head as a response. You end up falling asleep, and when you wake up, Melissa is no longer next to you. In fact, the only reason you wake up is because your two tiny terrors are jumping on the couch next to you despite your wife’s quiet protests.
“Girls, let Mam sleep,” you can hear the redhead sigh as she drops their backpacks at the door.
“We are!” Rosie protests. “We just want to cuddle her and make her feel better after last night!”
Your response is to pull them both close to your chest with a soft sigh as you keep your eyes closed. “Mam needs some Cat and Rosie snuggles.”
“‘See?” Cat tells your wife pointedly. “Mam needs us!”
You hear Melissa’s low chuckle before she exhales quietly. “Is Mam going to be okay if I head to the restaurant?”
“Can we come with you?!” Rosie asks. “I miss Auntie Val.”
“Stay with Mam,” you tell them gently as you pull them further into your lap. “Cuddles, some pizza, and-”
“I only like the Pizza that Vince makes at the restaurant,” Cat tells you.
“We can order takeout from Mommy’s restaurant then,” you try to placate.
“Why can’t we just go there?” Rosie whines out as she tries to break free from your hold. For such a small little thing, she sure is strong. She ends up getting out of your restraint, and she’s quick to put her shoes on and grab her backpack before taking hold of Melissa’s hand.
“Girls, why don’t you... go grab some coloring sheets and crayons from the basement?” your wife suggests. They run off.
“They are not going to the restaurant now that it’s the front,” you tell her.
When you expect your wife to agree, she merely shrugs. “There are usually other kids with their parents, and the guys drop off in the back.”
“Melissa!” you say sternly. “My girls are not going to a front!”
“They are our girls,” she tells you firmly. “And I think... I think that if they’re at the restaurant, and the Feds show up, having the girls there will help fool them into thinking we aren’t up to anything.”
“Melissa.”
She just shrugs. “You want them off our backs? I think this is the best way to get them off our backs.”
You go to protest her idea again, but the girls come running back with new boxes of crayons and a multitude of coloring sheets in their hands.
“Come on, sweet things,” she says softly. “We can all go to Twelve Tables.” The redhead takes both of their hands, grabs their backpacks, and leads them out the door. You fume as you follow behind her. You can’t believe she would go against your wishes and make such a big decision on her own.
Tags: @thesapphictimelady @marvel210 @itisdoctortoyousir @morgana-larkin @thesamesweetie @doesthatsuggestanythingtoyou @marvels--slut @gwennybriggs @megamultifandomtrashposts @lemz378 @http-sam @melissaschemmentisbranzino @imaginesmultifandoms @sexysapphicshopowner @lilfartbox1 @maybe-a-humanbean @imlike-so-gaydude @sapphicxrat @a-queen-and-her-throne @sunsol-22 @notinmyvocab @melanielaufeyson @dvrkhcld
#melissa schemmenti fanfiction#melissa schemmenti fanfic#melissa schemmenti x you#melissa schemmenti x reader#melissa schemmenti#abbott elementary fanfic#abbott elementary#abbott elementary fanfiction
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Somethin' Stupid - A.A.
Pairings: Astarion x Fem!Tav/Reader (Bard)
Warnings: BG3 Act 3 Spoilers! Fluff! Use of Frank Sinatra’s “Somethin’ Stupid” lyrics, Tav gives off Disney Princess Energy, Astarion is stuck in a rut but you help him out, Insecure!Astarion, Spawn!Astarion
Wordcount: 1,182
Summary: You’ve had your eyes on Astarion for a while, but lately he seems distant. You take it upon yourself to brighten his day, with the use of what you know and love. Music. And of course, a goofy smile.
A/N: Thank you @ditzdreamweaver for this prompt for Y/N serenading Astarion! I think it was an absolutely adorable idea, I definitely went a bit angstier with it but there's still a bunch of fluff/cuteness.
Ever since the party had defeated Cazador, Astarion seemed down. He chose to free the thousands of spawn that were kept in captivity into the Underdark. And yet, he struggled. He slightly regretted his decision not to ascend. He felt that he could have been a much more powerful asset to the team. In short, his insecurities were eating at him, and he couldn’t stand being around the rest of the group. Not for long, anyways. He could only uphold his confident aura for so long. Especially with you. You would never judge him, you had seen him covered in blood after stabbing Cazador, and you were the one who took a damp towel to wipe off the blood he should see or reach.
You and Astarion had grown fairly close, even with the heartache everyone in the party suffered. But lately, he felt distant. Typically, he would spend most nights chatting with the party, then you two would continue conversing into the late hours of the night. Astarion, was of course, a vampire elf, and you were a bard who was a natural night owl from the late nights playing in the taverns. Despite this, and the pull he felt to continue those late nights with you, something within him inhibited him from doing so.
“I’m heading to bed” Astarion muttered, before puttering off towards his tent. It was merely a few moments following your return to camp, and the sun had not yet set. Gale had begun to prepare a meal for the rest of the group, the glistening fire flickering below a large pot, which he intended to fill with a stew of sorts.
As Astarion’s tent completely secluded him from the rest of the group, you finally decided you had had enough. You would not let him suffer alone. You trotted over to your own tent happily, grabbing your lute from the corner. It had been a while since you played for an audience, but you needn’t worry about your abilities.
“I know I stand in line” You sang. “until you think you have the time” Astarion listened intently to your melodic voice, which easily had the capacity to draw him in. He hadn’t heard it since the very beginning of your journey together, but the strength of your voice hadn’t faltered. In fact, it sounded even more powerful than before. “to spend an evening with me…” You continued singing, dancing around the camp, with your typical goofball smile along your lips. The others reciprocated your happiness. Wyll, Karlach, Shadowheart, and even Lae’zel danced along the perimeter of the camp with you, Scratch and the owlbear cub clearly enjoying the music as well. Gale swayed as he was cooking, his feet pitter-pattering to the sound of the beat coming from your lute.
“Then afterwards we drop into a quiet little place and have a drink or two” you sang, dancing towards Astarion’s tent. Your voice radiated outside of the tent, steadily ushering him towards you. He wondered if you were a siren in your past life. “And then I go and spoil it all by saying somethin’ stupid like” with that, Astarion approached the edge of the tent, his fingers pulling the flap of his tent so he could view you just as you sang “I love you.” He watched as your pupils dilated as he came into your visibility, and he felt like you truly meant the words you were singing. The goofy smile plastered on your face was enhanced even more, and Astarion was able to smile for the first time in several weeks.
“I love you too, darling.” In all honesty, Astarion couldn’t remember the last time he spoke those words truthfully. You continued strumming as you ushered him to follow you over to sit on a log with you under the shade, a little further from camp. The rest of the group had disbanded to allow you your time together. As you began to slow the song down, some of Astarion’s insecurities began to plague him once more, but you tugged him past them. “Talk to me, Star” you prompted, pulling your lute off of your lap and opting to place it up against the tree next to you.
You turned towards Astarion, granting him your full attention. He looked at you with saddened eyes but couldn’t bring himself to look away. “I should have done it, Y/N.” He stated simply. A puzzled look came upon your face, and you reached for his hands to place in yours. He granted you them, then shuttered with pleasure as you softly ran your thumbs up and down the back of his hands. “What should you have done, Astarion?”
“I should have ascended.” Instead of acting flabbergasted, you remained calm, looking at him with gentle eyes. “Why do you say that my love?”
Gods, Astarion could barely take when you spoke those words to him. You were so gentle with him, which he was grateful for, but on the other hand it made him feel weak. He didn’t want to need to be taken care of.
“I want to be stronger for you. To protect you. To protect the party. To have the power to ensure that none of you ever get hurt again.” He spoke, and you felt your heart palpate against your chest. “Star…” You spoke, gentle eyes looking at him yet again.
“Do you realize how strong you are?” You questioned, with little response from him, merely a glance from his glossy eyes. “You have traveled far and wide for all of us here. You defeated your sadistic master, you helped us through the Gauntlet of Shar, through the Creche, through Grymforge, through Moonrise Tower! You learned how to stand up for yourself and what you wanted! We’ve saved people, and brought others to their demise, deservingly so!” You exclaimed, nearly standing up and lecturing him. “You’ve learned more about yourself in these past few months than you have in the rest of your lifetime, Astarion. Do you know how much you have to be proud of? I’m glad you didn’t ascend, Astarion. You wouldn’t be you if you didn’t. Ascending would have been the easy choice. The easy way out. A way for you to continue Cazador’s pattern of torture. But you decided to do better for yourself! You are one hundred percent the strongest man I’ve ever met, Astarion. And I’m not going to sit here, and let you tell yourself other-” with that, Astarion placed the gentlest kiss upon your soft lips.
Your eyes widened upon impact, surprised by the pale elf’s action. After a moment, you pulled away, simply stating “uhm- wow. That was really nice.” Next, you felt Astarion’s arms wrap around you, nuzzling into your neck. You allowed one of your hands to trace on his back, while the other played in his hair. “Thank you, darling.” He mumbled into your skin. “Of course” you responded, closing your eyes and allowing yourself to just be there with him for a while. It was what he needed, after all.
#astarion#astarion ancunin#astarion bg3#astarion fluff#astarion vampire#baldur's gate 3#bg3 astarion#astarion fanfiction#bg3 fandom#astarion x reader#astarion x tav#astarion x you#astarion x y/n#astarion romance#baldurs gate astarion#tav x astarion#astarion angst
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Insatiable Hunger
Hannibal Lecter × patient!reader
Warnings: unhealthy dynamics, obssesive relationship, slight stalking, Hannibal bring emotionally manipulative dunno
(first time writing about hannibal, kinda nervous be aware)
At first you were just another patient, a potential pawn or a future extravagant dinner he would enjoy some Friday night. Another lost and troubled soul that was unfortunate enough to find him.
However his interest grew like a forest fire, a burning insatiable hunger consumed him more and more with each one of your sessions.
There was something about you that caught his eye. The way you talked, the way you carried yourself.
He started taking notes of every little detail of your life and with some research of his own he soon knew every aspect of your life. Where you live, where you work, who your friends are, which cafe you spend your Saturday morning everything in.
He knew that he should feel bad for crossing such a line between a therapist and a patient but he didn’t really. After all, it wasn't that hard. With your social media your life was practically an open book for everyone to read and enjoy and if he didn’t then he was sure someone else did.
Only the thought made him angry. It wasn’t about your safety but more about his hurt ego. He had his eye on you, no one else should change that and he should make it known.
Of course he had always been a fan of traditional courting so don’t be confused when you start bumping into him in the most random places at some point with the excuse of cheering you up even being invited to one of his glamorous dinner parties. All of those situations you tried to avoid and refuse gracefully, not because of being aware of his true intentions but rather because you knew there was a thin line you shouldn’t cross.
So you didn't leave him any other way. He truly wanted to be gentle and kind with you and treat you like the precious, vulnerable creature you were in his mind but you just won’t have it the easy way, will you?
The thought of being patient- one of the tarits he awlways took pride on- now felt like a real torture. He wanted to consume you whole. There was something about you that reflected some part of him, an unknown familiarity of your pain. He wanted to break you down, then pick up your parts and build you up. Then do it all over again.
Your sessions were heavy at least. Raw honesty from your part and emotional manipulation from his all to serve the creation of an intense bond, a codependent relationship.
Your wellbeing and mental health had turned into a chess game and the game was anything but fair. In less than two months your whole well being was hanging from a thread and only he could help you or tear you apart.
One can only imagine the sadistic pleasure he took from your vulnerability and pain. Comfortably he sat at his armchair watching as you fell apart in front of him each week feeling worse and worse. All he had to do was just watch and enjoy, proud of his creation.
In his free time he recalled how beautifully you cried, so broken and desperate for him to fix you but all he wanted was lick your tears and take you in. He imagined you being under him, crying - from pleasure - his name rolling off your tongue over and over again.
Soon he had you feeling as if the whole world had turned against you. You couldn’t even trust your own judgement, you had cut ties with most of your friends -Dr Lecter advised you that none of them were genuine-you had become more and more isolated, you felt like you’re turning paranoid.
And then the final act of his play
“I’m really sorry I didn’t know where else to go” and like clockwork you deliberately walked onto his trap, basically sealing your own fate. All he had to do now is hold his door wide open for you to come in.
And then checkmate. That eventful evening standing on the doorstep of the only person you thought truly cared about you. He let you in and like a wounded bird he took you into his arms with such generosity and kindness in contrast to everyone else in your life. The irony.
“It will all be alright”
You wrap your arms around him, holding onto him for dear life, holding onto the only person that seems to understand you and actually wants to help you. As you cry on his shoulder he rests his chin on your head and gently caresses your hair.
Despite your persistence to resist him you are finally giving in. He kisses the crown of your head and though you know it is wrong you let him. You would let him do anything to keep him and he knows it.
Frozen in place you close your eyes as he kisses your forehead, then your eyes and cheek. You know what comes next yet you do not pull away, you don't resist what’s inevitable. A second passes and he doesn’t move, you open your eyes to see him staring at your lips. Now you know you want it, you feel his hunger as your own and you’re starving for it.
Grabbing him by his expensive tie you kiss him, not gently as he did but with desperation and need to be seen and understood.
Pleased he lets you have control just this once for the rest of your time together. He knew you would soon come to realise it’s only him you ever needed.
#hannibal lecter x reader#hannibal x reader#hannibal#yandare hannibal#mads mikkelsen#hannibal imagine
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Liar pt.8
Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8
Pairing: Gojo x fem!eader
Warnings: ANGSTTTT, but fluff at the end, cussing, drinking, grinding, NOT PROOFRED, i don't think there's anything else but as always lmk if there is.
Note- the italics is a flashback, actually, Satoru's entire section is a flashback from pt 7.
Word Count: 1.3K
A/N: VFYVKD. Guys, I think this might be the last part to this series😭😭😔😔 This has been a journey, thank you so much for everyone who has read this far, I truly and deeply appreciate every single one of you❤️❤️ I don't want it to endddd, so lmk if you would like me to keep writing for this au bc I would LOOVE to.
(Requests open)
Satoru
He was beginning to feel like he was slipping. He hadn’t had a glass since the shot he took before Kaito came to spend the night with him. Although it was now night and hours since his son had left, he naively thought that he had overcome his addiction since he hadn’t felt the urge to drink the whole time he was with Kaito.
Oh how wrong he was. He needed to get a drink and fast. He jumped into his car and began speeding to the nearest liquor store, only to find it with an eight-person line. He didn’t have the patience to wait that long and made his way to a bar. Any bar, honestly speaking, he had no idea where he even was.
He quickly went over, ordered, and chugged five tequila shots consecutively. Once the alcohol finally kicked in, he finally began to feel like himself again.
‘He was is disgusting. What kind of pathetic, sorry excuse of a man can’t survive without drowning himself in alcohol? How was he supposed to win you back and be a father for Kaito in such a state?’
These were the thoughts that ran rampant through his mind as he ordered a glass of whiskey, this time much more relaxed, seated on his stool, staring lifelessly into the endless abyss.
He was slowly sipping his drink when he felt a pair of hands clutch his shoulders before slowly gliding down his arms. Because of his inebriated state, he wasn’t able to sense them approaching, however, he just chose to ignore, only seeming to amuse the stranger. He slowly turned his seat to face them.
He was completely unamused when his eyes landed on a young woman clearly intent on getting into his pants. She clearly thought that she was the most beautiful girl in the room, therefore disarming a chance at him, but all he could think of was how ugly she looked in comparison to you. He just rolled his eyes, trying to go back to wallowing in self-pity. The lady just wouldn’t let up, turning around before she began grinding against him to the beat of the music. Foul, Satoru thought, feeling his patience run out.
“Get away from me you fucking slut,” he hissed, venom lacing his words as he placed his hand on her waist, trying to push her away when next thing he knows, a palm is making contact with his cheek, landing a harsh slap across his face. It was only then that he finally sensed your cursed energy. He quickly turned to face you, heart plummeting when he saw tears streaming through your face.
Shit, he can only imagine what this looked like to you. He tried to reach out to you but you just screamed at him and ran away from him.
He began to panic.
His heart was racing.
The world around him was spinning and despite how hard he tried, he couldn’t move a single inch. His vision was getting spotty and all he could hear was the ringing in his ears. He felt like he was going to vomit.
WHY! WHY HIM, WHY NOW! WHY COULDN’T HEJUST CONTROL HIMSELF AND STOP FUCKING DRINKING! He was absolutely torturing himself in his head as he spiraled.
He finally mustered the strength to run after you, leaving the unnamed girl where she stood, utterly confused.
He ran as fast as his legs could take him but you were nowhere to be found.
He leapt into his car and drove as fast as the vehicle could go. He was at Jujutsu tech in about five minutes but that was the longest five minutes of his entire life. He had to get to you. He needed to explain, he needed to make sure you know that it wasn't what it looked like.
Y/N
After crying your heart out on the sidewalk, you eventually made your way back to Jujutsu Tech. You texted Shoko and asked her if she could take care of Kaito for the rest of the night. You felt so guilty for staying away from him for two nights in a row but you just couldn’t bear to have him see you like this.
Just as you were about to close the dorm door behind you, you heard running and frantic breathing approach. You didn’t even bother trying to fight Gojo as he forced his way through the door you were trying to shut.
“Y/N p-please” he took a pause, slightly hunched over as he attempted to catch his breath, “I pro- I promise it wasn’t what you looked like!” he tried to explain, clearly panicked.
“What the fuck do you mean it’s not what it looked like, Gojo.” you questioned, putting emphasis on how you said his name. It felt like you were continuously stabbing him with a jagged dagger and he felt his knees getting weak but he couldn’t let you go, not now.
“My love please! I swear on my life it wasn’t! I wasn’t trying to do anything with her fuck! I don’t even know her name!”
“Then what was it Gojo! She was grinding on you and you were FUCKING ENJOYING IT, DON’T YOU DARE LIE TO ME! I KNOW WHAT I SAW!!” You yelled your throat raw.
“I was trying to get her away from me! Please, believe me, I promise,” He dropped on his knees, reaching for your hands with his own shaking ones. Tears began to trickle down his face as his breathing grew heavy.
A small part of you wanted to believe it, but you were struggling. Deep down, you were telling yourself that he was telling the truth. But that was a part of you you hadn’t seen since Gojo was sealed. You survived this long without listening to it, so why start now?
“Gojo…let’s get a divorce-”
“NO! NO! BABY PLEASE! Don’t do this to me! I LOVE YOU! I LOVE YOU MORE THAN LIFE, MORE THAN BREATHING, MORE THAN MYSELF MORE THAN ANYTHING! DON’T LEAVE ME-”
“Gojo you were gone for years! I LIVED WITHOUT A HUSBAND FOR YEARS! And from what it looks like, you CLEARLY didn’t feel my or Kaito’s absence! And from what it looks like, you’ve moved on-”
“BUT I HAVEN’T! I HAVEN’T! I GO TO BED HOLDING A PICTURE OF YOU CLOSE TO MY CHEST EVERY SINGLE NIGHT! I HAVE NEVER TAKEN OFF YOUR RING SINCE THE DAY I GOT BACK AND FOUND YOU GONE!” He cried, showing you your ring, which laid on his fingers. You would be lying if you said you didn’t notice it, but you just assumed that was due to how expensive it was. It would’ve been a waste to let it collect dust in a drawer.
“Y/N, you and out baby boy are the only fucking reason I wake up every day. You two are the light of my life and when I lost you. I was so distraught I even started drinking and you know better than anyone how much I hate that shit but it’s the only thing that takes my mind off of everything!”
You were now crying too, touched by what he was saying. You could see in his eyes that he meant every word and it shook you to your core.
You stayed anchored where you stood, sobbing now as Satoru got up off his knees and took you into his arms. Hugging you as tightly as he could without breaking your ribs.
You couldn't even move. You just stood there and cried with him, feeling the weight of everything that had transpired over the past couple of years wash away.
All that grief, suffering, and pain over the past few years was washing away in your tears.
You love him.
You had pushed down your feelings for him so deep that for a moment, you forgot they were even there. But you love him, and he you, and you knew that there was know way either of you could live without each other any longer.
You love him, and he loves you, and nothing was going to change that.
Not now, not ever.
Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8
The End...?
@porridgesblog , @giannitaa , @c0pkiller , @havens-not-here, @starlightanyaaa
© gojos-fr-bae
#gojo satoru#gojo#jujutsu gojo#gojo x reader#gojo saturo#gojo x you#gojou satoru x reader#jjk gojo#gojo imagine#jujustu kaisen#gojo satoru x reader#gojo angst#gojo fluff#gojou satoru x you#satoru gojo#satoru gojo x reader#jujutsu kaisen gojo#jujutsu kaisen#jujutsu sorcerer#jujutsu kaisen fluff#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen x you#jjk anime#Liar
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There was that bit in ARR where you return from a quest, the scions had prepared a feast for you but then ate it all before you could arrive, right? I cant for the life of me remember WHEN/which quest that happened in and I'd appreciate your help in reminding me.
I can no longer find part of it either; it seems Garland Tools has cleared out a lot of incidental/side dialogue, nor did the FFXIV Game Script seem to capture it.
I know there was a "WoL's mindset in ARR patches" post recently mentioning it in a reblog comment, and I do think the analysis has merit with the lore backing mentioned, but to call it a "prepared feast the Scions ate without WoL" or that "everyone else was more important" (as the reblog addition puts it) is honestly, I feel, a gross overstatement of what happens in optional dialogue between quests.
In very old screenshots, as WoL returns to the Rising Stones, I found a line where F'lhaminn apologizes to WoL as she thought she made enough food for everyone, but everyone else coming in from their own adventures and assignments were also really hungry.
There's the dialogue with Nanamo praying just before this in the screenshot log, so I want to say it's right after "Let Us Cling Together" when Eline Roaille escaped and then had to be recaptured in a solo instance, while the other Scions are investigating the ways to make white auracite work to defeat the Ascians. WoL hasn't even been in Mor Dhona for a bit (a day or several, depending how one decides to run one's timelines and teleporting travel), but in Thanalan dealing with Roaille's escape.
So it's really just a case of the folks in the kitchen not having enough meals readily on hand, and F'lhaminn kinda feels bad about it as 1) it's her entire self-determined job and 2) IIRC, she did mention something about having a meal ready for WoL when they got home, but by the time the quest is over, it's clear she underestimated.
Also, after the quest shifts to the next one ("Good Intentions"), talking to Tataru has her say this:
So it's not that the Scions are being intentional jerks to the WoL--it was entirely an aside in optional click dialogue, and mostly an honest mistake (and perhaps meant to be a bit comedic, but falls somewhat flat) of kitchen staff underestimating their adventurer colleagues' appetites and not preparing enough.
#final fantasy xiv#A Realm Reborn#F'lhaminn Qesh#Warrior of Light#Scions of the Seventh Dawn#Screenshots#chatlogs#Alt text
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I've definitely lost all faith in Quackity Studios actually doing the right thing here. I don't even know if they could at this point: I don't think they have the organization or budget that is required to properly pay their former workers and rebuild any semblance of trust with the people they have ostracized, abused, and disappointed. I would love to be wrong but I just don't see this happening.
It was an ambitious project that went too far too soon: without a clear way to financially support itself it still continued to bring on new people that it had no intention of paying despite promising that they would eventually be compensated for their time. They focused too much on making things new, exciting, bigger than ever before, when they easily could have (and imo should have) stepped back and let the extremely talented ccs and admins they already had take the reins and steer the servers story in a much more organic way.
I'll always love the positive things the qsmp was able to accomplish: the connections made by ccs and by fans that would have never happened without it, the amazing story lines that the ccs developed, the proof of concept that real time in-game translation can break down so many language barriers in an incredible way. But knowing that all of this stood on the backs of under and unpaid workers, pushed to work hard with unrealistic demands and unfair, hypocritical rules and restrictions, has definitely tainted the server.
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A Not-So-Disastrous Romance (Book 1) Chapter Four
Kusuo Saiki x Reader
Chapter Four: Safety Drills and Clairvoyants
Summary: (Y/N) and Saiki perform a safety drill, and Saiki has to make sure his friends don't get tricked by a fake psychic.
“Listen up, everyone! There’ll be an evacuation drill today!” announced Hairo.
“Evacuation drill, huh?”
“Ha! I’ll be fine. I don’t need to rehearse,” said Nendou.
“Yes, he does,” whispered (Y/N), leaning over to Saiki. “Yesterday, he walked into the first-year hall and thought it was ours.” They grinned cheekily.
Saiki sighed. “Of course, he did.”
“Nendou, you shouldn’t take the drill so lightly,” warned Hairo. “Take a fire, for example! You’re surrounded by hot flames. The smoke makes it hard to see. You have trouble breathing! Now, what’re you gonna do in such a hot and hostile environment?! Can you make a level-headed decision in that situation when you didn’t even bother to participate in the drill?! Preparedness always pays off!”
“You’re as hot and suffocating as a fire,” said Saiki.
“Fires are great for making s’mores on a summer night,” said (Y/N), thinking aloud.
They wouldn’t survive a fire, either, would they? The psychic sighed. For all (Y/N)’s good sense, they lacked it at some critical moments. Yare yare. They’re all so troublesome.
“Anyway, when the fire alarm goes off, follow the instructions and evacuate to the schoolyard,” said Hairo. He was acting much calmer than he had been a few seconds ago. “This is a mnemonic created by using the initials for the important considerations during an evacuation. ‘SOS.’ ”
If I remember correctly, it stands for “Slow, Orderly, and Silent.”
(Y/N) brightened. “I was right earlier! ‘S’mores On Summer nights.’ ”
Saiki deadpanned even more than usual. That’s not even close.
“Oh, I get it!” piped up Nendou. “ ‘Save Our Selves!’ ”
“That can’t be right!” protested (Y/N).
Do they remember what it actually means?
“We should Save Others before Snacks!”
Well, at least they have good intentions…
“Well, I suppose, but…” said Hairo.
“Then, it must be ‘Someone! Over here! Save me!’ ” said Nendou.
“Do it yourself,” said Saiki.
Kaidou laughed derisively (acting dramatic as usual). “You’re stupid as ever.”
“What?! Do you know what it means?” questioned Nendou.
“Hmph, of course, I do,” declared Kaidou confidently.
“What? Is it ‘Save Others with Superpowers?’ ” laughed (Y/N), obviously joking.
Nendou laughed. “Good one, pinky.”
“No! It’s ‘Scorching Oblivion Smackdown!’ ” said Kaidou.
Everyone was silent.
“I was just kidding,” said Kaidou, backpedaling quickly. “It stands for ‘Slow, Orderly, and Silent.’ ”
“Yes, that’s right,” said Hairo. “So everyone, please remember SOS when you are participating in the drill.”
The PA system turned on. “A fire broke out in the science room on the first floor. Please evacuate.” The fire alarm began to ring.
“The sound of fire alarms makes me panic,” said Teruhashi.
“This is important. We should pay attention,” said Saiki.
“Fire, you need to Stay calm. Open your bag and take out your safety hood, then Stand in line in order of your student number,” explained Hairo.
(Y/N) walked over and picked their hood up. Since the buttons were directly under their chin, they fumbled with them. Sighing, Saiki walked over and buttoned it correctly. (Well, really he held his hands up and the buttons did themselves, but it was still Saiki making them do so. It counted).
“Thanks, Saiki!” chirped (Y/N). Their heart fluttered at his help, and they smiled widely.
“Yare yare. It’s just for helping at the sports festival,” said Saiki, looking away. He didn’t like being in debt to anyone, so helping with buttons would even out the food thing. That was all.
“Oh, no,” said Teruhashi, frowning down at her hood. “I can’t figure out my buttons.” Saiki will see me in trouble and help! Then I’ll thank him, and he’ll say “Oh, wow!”
Not happening.
A swarm of boys jumped to Teruhashi’s side. “We’ll help you, Teruhashi!”
“We shouldn’t wait around here! The fire could spread,” warned Hairo.
“If you spend too much time helping me, you guys will…” Teruhashi gasped dramatically and softened her eyes thankfully.
“She’s right! What is your guys’ plan?” asked Hairo.
“Sacrifice Ourselves to Save her,” declared the boys.
“I-I see,” said Hairo.
Saying nary a word they’d Offer me their help. They’re my love Slaves. Teehee, thought Teruhashi.
Class 3 lined up by the door and began exiting.
“Okay! Let’s start evacuating,” ordered Hairo.
“Oh, shoot, I left my phone in class,” said Tadashi. He began to turn around, but Hairo interceded.
“Stop, Tadashi! You’re Out of line, Stay in place,” commanded the class rep.
“He’s trying too hard.”
“Mhm,” hummed (Y/N), chewing on a snack.
Saiki almost deadpanned more than usual. They had marshmallows with them. No wonder they kept thinking about s’mores. “I feel like I’m hearing SOS in almost everything now.”
“That’s a Strange Occurrence, Saiki,” said (Y/N).
“See? What did I tell you?”
(Y/N) blinked before smiling. “Whoa, you’re So Observant, Saiki.”
“Stop it, guys. Obviously a fire drill doesn’t have time for Stupid quarrels,” said Kaidou to Hairo and Tadashi.
“Right! Great call, Kaidou!” said Hairo. “Let’s continue down the stairs! We’re almost there!” He stopped at the first floor. “What?!” The way was blocked. “Stop! The path leading Outside has been Shuttered?!”
“Seriously? Come On. We’d be Screwed if this wasn’t a drill,” muttered the discontent students.
“I wonder if the shutter was closed by mistake,” said Teruhashi.
“I think it’s because this goes by the science room,” pointed out (Y/N), still munching marshmallows.
Saiki nodded. How do they manage to be so observant and clueless at the same time?
“Stay calm. Obviously, there’s gotta be a Solution,” said Hairo. “A solution?” He became serious and introspective. “I see…I now understand the point of this shutter!”
“I think he finally figured it out, too,” said Saiki.
“We’re being tested! This is an obstacle!” declared the redhead. “During a fire, Sometimes Obstacles Stance in our way! In other words, to move forward, we must break through this shutter!”
“Isn’t it made to be tough to break?” asked (Y/N), tilting their head.
Excepting Saiki, the boys weren’t listening. “Alright then! Let’s break that shuttle!” The grabbed a fire extinguisher and a desk to throw at the barrier.
“In a real fire, they’d be the first to go,” said Saiki. He glanced over at (Y/N) and their marshmallows. “You might be next.”
They were blissfully unaware of his comment and just held out a sweet treat to him. “Want one?”
“…Yes.” Coffee jelly may be his favorite snack, but he liked other sweets, too. Alright, so maybe I’d save you since you bring me dessert.
Finally, Hairo, Nendou, and Kaidou managed to open a corner of the shutter and let the students pass through. Mr. Matsuzaki was waiting on the other side.
“So…You wrenched open the shutter and escaped through the front entrance,” observed the gym teacher. “I see…Who would break a shutter?! We just installed it! Are you Simpletons Out of your minds? Do you know what it costs to repair a Shutter?!”
“We’re sorry!” apologized the boys.
Geez…This is why I told them…Ah, I guess I didn’t tell them directly. Well, this school doesn’t need an evacuation drill to start with, though. Because…So long as I’m around, Ordeals such as fire Simply will not happen.
Yare yare. Now I’m doing it.
l
Throughout the town, the news of the House of Fortune Telling was spreading like wildfire. Apparently, a skilled clairvoyant worked there. People were loving what she said. Whether or not she was correct in her predictions was still unknown, but people kept on going to her, especially curious teenagers.
“Hmph. How stupid. Fortune-telling is just an illusion created by a bunch of people who pretend to be prophets,” said Kaidou.
“Wow, it’s pretty rare that you and I agree on something,” said Saiki.
(Y/N) nodded. “I find it hard to believe someone who can actually see the future isn’t being sought out by governments.” They grinned. “But I’m going this afternoon, anyways. I’m curious about what she’ll say, even if it is totally made up. It’ll be fun.”
“Well, forget that,” said Kaidou, “I have something more important to discuss with you two. Come with me after school today. Have you noticed? I sense a strange aura being given off in this town. I think Dark Reunion is behind it.”
“Whatever floats your boat,” said (Y/N), “And I already have plans.”
“That’s just an illusion you created,” said Saiki to Kaidou.
Saddened, Kaidou walked away. Nendou popped up beside Saiki and (Y/N).
“Pal, pinky! Have you heard? There’s a fortune-telling shop nearby,” said Nendou.
“It’s ‘House of Fortune Telling.’ I’m tired of hearing about it already.”
“Yeah, I know!” chirped (Y/N). “I’m going to check it out later today, ya know, for curiosity’s sake!”
Looks like I’ll be making sure my friends bothers don’t make bad decisions today.
If Saiki was being at all observant of his own actions, he’d notice that as soon as (Y/N) was involved, he was way more willing to wade into irritating situations to keep track of his friends. Acquaintances. (Friends).
l
Saiki, invisible to all, sighed and followed (Y/N) inside the House of Fortune Telling. Kaidou was with them because they had spotted him “in disguise” in line. The inside was made to look like a stereotypical psychic’s shop with a crystal ball, shimmery drapes, lows lights, the whole nine yards.
“Welcome to the House of Fortune. Please have a seat,” said the fortune teller.
“O-Okay,” said Kaidou.
“Alright,” said (Y/N).
They both sat down.
“I’m Mikiko Clairvoyance. Nice to meet you,” said the lady.
(Y/N) tilted their head in confusion at her name. That feels way too on the nose. Like a stage name.
“On what matter would you like advice today?” asked Mikiko.
“Umm,” said Kaidou.
I see. They seem half in doubt, too.
“Oh, my…I sense a very unusual aura from you, young man!” said Mikiko.
“What?!” gasped Kaidou.
“You’re no ordinary person, are you,” asked Mikiko slyly. “Do you have special gifts?”
(Y/N) watched the proceedings in amusement.
“And you!” Mikiko turned to the teenager.
“Me?” (Y/N) pointed to themself.
“Yes! You’re quite important to someone with gifts, aren’t you?!” questioned the clairvoyant dramatically.
(Y/N) shrugged and laughed. “Sorry, ma’am, you got the wrong person.” They brushed her off without a second thought. There weren’t many people they wanted to be important to, and having gifts didn’t go into it. Plus, the list wasn’t that long. Their friends, family, Saiki.
But Saiki’s a friend, so there we go, thought (Y/N) decidedly, brushing the way their mind separated him from everyone else away.
Wait…important to someone with gifts?! thought Kaidou. Does that mean…me?! A sudden blush overtook his cheeks as he looked at (Y/N).
Oh, wow. Saiki frowned slightly. He was more annoyed than usual as he saw Kaidou, even though he was just confused, get all flustered because of (Y/N). It just felt so…troublesome
“Ah…well, perhaps you’re just not aware of it!” covered Mikiko expertly. Not a good target. I should focus on the boy. She turned quickly to Kaidou. “You’re troubled by something! Am I wrong?!”
“How did you know that?!” gasped Kaidou.
People without troubles wouldn’t come to a place like this.
“Let me tell you what it is…” Mikiko carefully gaged what her predictions should be by watching Kaidou’s reactions. “A problem with romance…is not what it is, so an issue with your future and schoolwork…isn’t what’s troubling you, either. So it’s something to do with your friends and relationships!” She nailed it on the third try. “Yes! Your source of trouble is one friends and relationships!”
“H-How do you know that?!” stammered Kaidou.
You make it too easy.
“Most teenagers have that problem,” whispered (Y/N) to Kaidou, but he paid them no mind.
“Yeah, you’re right. That is the source of my troubles,” said the blue-haired boy. “I’m an assassin known as the Jet-Black Wings who came from a parallel world.”
(Y/N) sweat-dropped.
What is he talking about? thought Mikiko.
I ask myself that question every day.
“But after I learned the truth about the organization…” rambled Kaidou.
Mikiko nodded. “I understand.”
“I’m used to fighting.” Kaidou clenched his fist. “But sometimes I think about my life…I live in solitude…I don’t have anything I can call frie—I mean, comrade.”
“Aww, I’ll be your friend!” chirped (Y/N), leaning affectionately towards him.
“A-Ah!” Kaidou squeaked and blushed.
Saiki’s eyebrow twitched. (Y/N) was too nice for their own good, and Saiki didn’t need Kaidou having any misguided feelings for them. That would be complicated. That was the trouble. Obviously.
In an attempt to keep his attention, Mikiko said, “But he needs someone to completely understand him! You need a new approach. You should try to understand others.”
Oh, so she says some decent things, too. Maybe I misjudged her.
“Also, this will help.” She opened a box which held necklace. “You’ll be fine if you wear this necklace.
“What’s that?” asked (Y/N).
“If you wear this, you’ll be able to make friends with one hundred people and with Kento Yamazaki!” explained Mikiko. “If you buy now, I’m willing to offer you the low price of thirty-thousand yen.”
(Y/N)’s eyes widened, and their jaw dropped open.
“Thirty-thousand yen?!” cried Kaidou. “I-I’ll buy it! But I want to know one thing first. Will this make me friends with Saiki?!”
A soft smile spread across (Y/N)’s face. “Aww, Kaidou…”
“If you wear it, that Saiki guy will follow you around saying, ‘Hey, pal,’ ” said Mikiko.
(Y/N) blanked. “Huh?” There was no way that was happening. Plus, that was Nendou’s line.
“I-I’ll buy it!” declared Kaidou. He paid without hesitation.
“Well, well, good luck, now I must see other customers!” Mikiko rushed them out the door to the street. “Next person! Please come in.”
Kaidou regarded the necklace happily as he walked down the street with (Y/N).
“If nothing else, it’s…pretty,” said (Y/N). They weren’t sure it would work.
“Kaidou!”
Both teens turned around. Kaidou was excited to have his first friend while (Y/N) was just surprised that the necklace might actually do something. They were both let down because it was just Mikiko.
“I’m giving this back! I had no idea what you were saying was true!” she cried. She shoved Kaidou’s money back into his hands.
“What? Then what about the necklace?” asked Kaidou.
“You can have it! I bought it at a street stall for five-hundred yen!” she shouted as she ran.
“What?!” cried Kaidou, realizing the necklace wasn’t magical.
(Y/N) patted his back. “Sorry. At least you got your money back. And don’t worry, you’ve already got one friend. Me!” They beamed radiantly.
“Oh!”
The pair turned after hearing Nendou’s voice. He had just run into Saiki.
“Oh, hey, pal! Oh, and you, too, runt, pinky?” asked Nendou.
Kaidou’s eyes widened. Three of the people he was closest to were suddenly all around him. He gazed in wonder at the trinket in his hands. “So this necklace really is…”
Saiki sighed.
(Y/N) grinned. “No, no, Kaidou. Can’t you see? We’re already your friends!”
Kaidou blushed. “A-Ah! R-Right!”
Saiki was torn between being annoyed at Kaidou’s flustered state and enjoying how kind (Y/N) was. Those two annoy me, but you—he looked at (Y/N)—I can tolerate you.
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#a not so disastrous romance#x reader#gn reader#nb reader#x gn reader#x nb reader#the disaster of psi kusuo saiki#saiki kusuo#saiki kusou no psi nan#saiki#kusuo saiki#saiki x reader#saiki k#saiki no psi nan#kusuo x reader#kus#kusuo saiki x reader
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