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thesparklingwriter · 3 months

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unspoken thoughts

tags: modern au, wrothesley x fem! reader, roomates to lovers, reader goes on a blind date with a karen (tm), biker! wrio!!!!

word count: 1.7k

masterlist | taglist

“Hey, Bun. How was work?”

You meet Wriothesley with a level glare, as you fumble with locking the door. Maybe rooming with him had saved you money on rent, but what you’d saved had definitely been replaced with extra stress.

“I told you to stop calling me bunny.”

“Perhaps if you didn’t blush like that when I do, I would stop.” He replies, nursing a cup of tea and a book as he relaxes on the sofa. You glare at him again but lower yourself onto the sofa beside him.

“New delivery?” You ask, referring to the tea.

“The one that was delayed,” he says. “It was worth the wait.” He raises the cup to you and you take a sip, taking stock of all the flavours you can before Wriothesley begins to talk about it. One day, you’re sure he’ll find out that you actually have no interest in his teas, and that despite the fact he drives you mad, he’s actually just nice to listen to.

“Seems it was worth the money too,” You say once he’s finished talking. “Definitely belongs in the top ten.”

“Maybe even top five,” he replies, mostly to himself as you stand up. “More work?” he asks lightly, expecting you to grumble about how you're tired of always working, and you wish your manager would stop expecting you to work overtime for free, but this time you smile coyly.

“I have a blind date,” you say quietly, trying to ignore the way he’s looking up at you. “My friend set me up. He’s apparently a very refined, classy guy from a good family, and my friend says he thinks we’d get along well.”

“I wonder what your friend defines as a good family,” Wriothesley says, sipping his tea. “Money? Influence?” He’d never truly considered what you’d look for in a partner before, in fact, he liked to try and avoid the thought if possible. He prefers to only think about the things which affect him directly. But now the topic has been brought up, he suddenly feels strange. If coming from a good family is important to you… That would immediately take him out of the running, wouldn’t it?

“I dunno.” you shrug. “Sometimes my friend just says things. Anyway, thanks for sharing your tea. I’m gonna go get ready.”

Wriothesley watches as you walk away, sighing lightly as he takes another sip of his tea. He’s lived with you for so long that he never truly thought about how his life at home would change if you got a boyfriend. Would it mean he could no longer share his teas with you? Would he have to stop letting you sleep on him when you watch movies together?

He sits with his thoughts until he hears your keys as you leave your room.

“I’m off. Don’t stay up for me.” You smile, and Wriothesley can't help but hate himself for hating how happy you seem to be leaving. He sips his now-cold tea and nods.

“Have fun.”

“You’re grumbling. What’s the matter?” you say, pulling your jacket on.

“I am not grumbling.” he shoots back, standing up to go to the kitchen. “My tea got cold. That’s all.”

“You are so grumbling right now.” you grin. Wriothelsey doesn't know if you are purposefully ignoring his bad mood or if you're so excited about your date that you simply don’t notice, but he doesn’t really like either of those answers. “See you later!”

And then Wriothesley finds himself alone again. Maybe he’d taken it for granted that you’d always be around. Maybe he isn't as okay with the silence as he’d made himself believe he was.

Even though you told him not to wait up, he finds himself unable to sleep. He tells himself it's not because he’s worried, it's just because he had a rare lie in this morning. It's natural for his body to be slightly out of sync, right? You’re perfectly capable of taking care of yourself, and today is just like every other day and–

His phone is ringing. It’s odd for him to get called by his manager so late in the day, but it's also not rare.

It's even rarer for it to be you calling.

“Wriothesley?”

“Hey, Bun. What’s going on?” He can’t help but smile a little. There you are on a date, but you’re calling him.

“Are you busy right now?”

It's only then that he notices the wavering in your voice.

“I’m not. What’s the matter?”

“Can you come and get me? I… I’m sorry, I just don’t know who else to call.”

You sound cold, he notices. Your teeth chatter together in between your words, and the wavering in your voice seems to be getting worse.

“Where are you? Why aren’t you inside?” He grabs his keys and he’s out of the door before you even have the chance to respond. His legs are moving faster than his mind can, and he’s already halfway down the stairs before he knows it.

You tell him where you are, but pointedly avoid his second question, and he supposes that’s fair. Maybe you just don’t want to share.

“I’m coming. Don’t move.”

Even despite the fact he’s glad you called him, Wriothesley wonders why you didn’t call an Uber. You’ve always been very vocal about how much you hate his motorcycle, and how you wish he’d just get a car. is the situation so dire that you don't care anymore?

When he gets to you, you’re sat outside of an upscale restaurant. He’s sure you left with a jacket, but you don’t have it on now.

“Hey,” he says, sitting next to you. “What’s the matter?”

You burst into tears when he asks you that question, and for a second, Wriothesley has no clue what to do. It’s you who buries your face into his chest, sobbing desperately.

“It was going okay at first, but the waitress got the guy’s order wrong and he went crazy. So they asked him to pay and leave, and then he said he didn’t want to because his order was wrong. He demanded that a manager come and then he said that I should pay. And I said I’d pay for my half, but as I was saying that I wasn’t going to pay for him, the manager came and picked up the wrong end of the stick, and she wouldn’t listen to the waitress who was defending me. So she asked us both to leave, and he’s screaming his head off, and they barely even gave me time to grab my phone before they marched us out. They would have left me with him while he was blowing his top if it wasn’t for the waitress who came with me until he left.” you cling onto his jacket. “I’m so embarrassed.”

“Don’t be embarrassed.” He says lowly. “It’s not your fault. It was never your fault.” He shrugs his jacket off and puts it over your shoulders. “Show me your table. I’ll get your stuff.”

“Wriothesley, please.” You can feel the anger radiating off him, and you worry about what will happen if he ends up on the wrong side of that manager.

“You shouldn’t suffer because of a guy with no manners. Let me get your things.”

You nod but insist on staying outside. The waitress that you said helped you earlier is the one that greets Wriothesley at the door, and you watch on as she brings him your things, and he settles the bill.

“You didn’t have to do that,” You tell Wriothesley as he returns.

“I did. Shall we go?” He asks, handing you a helmet. He’d bought that helmet for you when you first moved in together, just in case you ever needed to use his motorbike, but you always refused. He’s glad that it’s finally getting used at least once.

The ride home is silent, and you don’t say anything until you get back into your apartment. The feeling of the wind against your skin and your arms around Wriothesley calms you, and even though you feel humiliated by the actions of your stupid blind date, you feel that maybe things aren’t all that bad.

“You finally stopped calling me bunny,” you say, as you flop onto the sofa. Wriothesley hums in response as he fills up the kettle. In his haste, he’d left all of the lights in the apartment on.

“Does it bother you?”

“A little.”

“You’re so contrary.” He says finally. “You say you hate me calling you bunny, but here you are. You say you hate my motorbike, but you’re okay with me using it to pick you up.”

“I don’t hate your motorcycle.” You say, sitting up to look at him properly. “I think it’s cool.”

“Right, that’s why you refused to ever be near it.”

“I just hated the thought of you getting hurt on it.” You say finally. “It scared me.” He hands you a cup of tea and sits next to you. He hadn’t expected that to be your reasoning. “A part of me hoped that you wouldn’t let me go on that date, you know.”

“Why? It’s not my place to tell you what not to do. If you want to go on a blind date, I can’t stop you.” Those are the words he’d told himself as he watched you leave—you were your own person and it wasn’t his place to try and police what you do.

“You don’t understand.”

“Maybe I don’t,” he replies. “Help me understand.”

You take a deep breath. “If I kissed you, would that help you get it?”

“I don’t know. I suppose you’ll have to try.” He smiles. He barely even gets to finish his sentence when you pull him down to you and kiss him. In all the time he imagined he’d get to kiss you, he didn't think you’d be the one to initiate–-but even still, he wraps his arms around you and pulls you closer.

“Do you get it now?” you ask giddily.

“Not quite.”

So you kiss him again and again until he gets the message.

Bonus:

“You’re not the sharpest pencil in the box, really, are you?”

“Luckily for me, you’d make a great sharpener.”

notes: um ig its time to add wrio to my taglist form lol.. i really cannot get a good grip on his character so if you read this without thinking "he would not do that" then I am relieved but if you did i am also not surprised lol

#wriothesley #wriothesley x reader #wrio x reader #wriothesley genshin #genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin fluff #wriothesley fluff #genshin wriothesley

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freyito · 5 months

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Can you do the type of dates Mk1 guys will take you on?

idk if yall caught on but i absolutely love making these big ass drabbles for everyone... takes so long but its always so worth it. i got like 3 more in the drafts el oh el

cw: gn reader, juuuust fluff, bonus characters!, proofread

ᴛʏᴘᴇꜱ ᴏꜰ ᴅᴀᴛᴇꜱ ᴛʜᴇ ᴋᴏᴍʙᴀᴛ ʙᴏʏꜱ ᴛᴀᴋᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴏɴ

⎯ Liu Kang

Need I say it? I'll say it anyways. Stargazing. Liu Kang loves taking you stargazing. He'll take you absolutely anywhere in the world. It does not matter that he's lived under these stars for ages and ages. He enjoys seeing Earthrealm's natural beauty. And the stars, of course.

⎯ Bi-Han

Bi-Han prefers private moments with you, so his favorite date is simply a nice stroll. Sure, he could be lavish and drop a whole bunch of money on you, but he feels like that does not display his love properly. He just likes quality time with you, really. A nice, private dinner with you doesn't sound bad, either... or even ice skating. As cheesy as that is for someone like him.

⎯ Kuai Liang

As much as Kuai tries to be simple, he really loves taking you to festivals. As often as he can, of course that kind of amounts to like eight a year. But he loves them, he loves every single aspect of them. Mainly pampering you and buying you all the food you could want. His favorite festival is actually the Lantern Festival, he loves sending off lanterns with you.

⎯ Johnny Cage

Johnny sets up the most fancy, frivolous, and expensive dates for you, always. Truth be told, however, he really just likes a night in with you. Ordering your favorite take-out, cuddling up on the couch, watching one of his favorite movies- which, surprisingly, isn't one of his! He really loves horror movie nights, too. He chooses the corniest movies, and gets kind of disappointed if you don't AT LEAST squeeze his bicep during the scary parts.

⎯ Kenshi Takahashi

I like to think Kenshi is a good ol' fashioned lover boy. He loves extending the date through the whole day. He starts off with surprising you with flowers in the morning, maybe going on for a nice little stroll, have lunch at a quaint little café, and finish it all off with some dancing. Perhaps in the kitchen, or at a club, whichever you choose. Kenshi is actually terrifyingly good at dancing, he's just smooth like that.

⎯ Kung Lao

Madam Bo's. Breakfast, lunch, or dinner. Are you surprised? No. I know you aren't. Kung Lao loves any date that involves food, but enjoying something as simple and humble as a meal at Madam Bo's specifically has been and always will be his favorite.

⎯ Raiden

Raiden loves picnics! Somewhere in the secluded country-side, just enjoying your time with him. A myriad of home-made appetizers and what not. He believes it's one of the most intimate ways to spend time with you. He also loves to admire the way the sun compliments your figure, as well.

⎯ Zeffeero

Zeffeero seems particularly excited when it rains. Of course. It's in the job description. He urges you in the most nonchalant way for a quick stroll in the rain. Which inevitably leads to dancing in the rain. He tries to keep his composure around you, to look like that respectable wizard all the damn time. But you make him crumble, and he just can't help but giving in to breaking that façade with you.

⎯ Tomas Vrbada

Tomas also loves taking you out for dinner at Madam Bo's. Partially because he still feels guilty. But he loves the food there, and he hopes you do, too. To be honest, any time spent with you is worth it. So when it comes to dates, he doesn't exactly have a go-to or a favorite.

⎯ Baraka

Stargazing. The wastes provide a great space away from any sort of light pollution, and truth be told, Baraka prefers any time away from any populated places with you. He's afraid of the backlash you could get, as well as just the overall fear of spreading Tarkat. He knows his place, really. But those moments, deep in the night, where the stars are the brightest make up for all the worry.

⎯ Geras

Geras kind of has... no concept on dates. Like, none. He's a construct, and he doesn't really know much of the human connection. He's content simply by seeing you- which is kind of all your dates amount to. He's busy regardless, he has to watch over the hourglass.

⎯ Syzoth

Would it sound weird if I said Syzoth really liked hiking...? Aside from just cuddling up with you, he likes to explore. Especially with Earthrealm being so new to him. Being all sort of tucked away in the mountains, just with you, where he's free to transform and explore and enjoy his new-found life and freedom just... sparks something within him.

⎯ Havik

Oh boy. Havik also SUCKS at dates. Given his rowdy and anarchist nature, it's really hard for him to find a proper way to settle down and enjoy the day with you. Aside from naps, he genuinely would like you to tag along with him on all his... excursions. Extreme they may be, dismantling some sort of order with you really makes his heart burn for you.

⎯ Shao Kahn

With his status, it's kind of hard to find proper time to take you out. However, when he does, it's always a stereotypical quiet dinner. He's got some pretty damn connections, and somehow always manages to land the right table. Under the moonlight, just talking about your days. He enjoys those quiet, mundane moments.

⎯ Shang Tsung

A day AND night out shopping is really what Shang Tsung loves. He spoils you (and himself), and he's all chatty while you two walk down the market. He's very observant, actually. Any little thing you so much as spend more than 2 seconds looking at is now in your hands. He loves buying you the little things.

⎯ Reiko

Being second in command to Shao, Reiko kind of knows his way around dancing. He's a soldier, yeah, but especially when he's close to the royalty I imagine there's some sort of luxury he has to uphold. Reiko's not the best at dancing by all means, but whenever some sort of ball event starts in Sun Do, he's bringing you. And he gets better, each time.

⎯ Bonus Points! Takeda Takahashi

KARAOKE. Takeda SUCKS at singing, but it's not about that. It is so fun with him. Getting a break from the Shirai Ryu, his father, the special forces, pulling you to some dive, screaming his heart out to some white girl pop, he loves it. And he loves it when you two do those silly little duets. He could care less about how bad he sings, it's just those moments he gets to let loose with you.

⎯ Bonus Points! Hanzo Hasashi

It may come as a surprise, but Hanzo loves little pottery dates. For a man like him, it seems so unlikely. But it's quiet, and actually needs a lot of focus. That's what he likes about it. It's something calming to do, with his love. And he likes to see what you come up with, especially. He kind of sucks at painting, though. So he'll pass off the bowls or cups he makes for you to paint.

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rogueddie · 1 year

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Steve realizes that he's been spending too much time with the kids families when he gets home, realizing that he'd bought supplies for knitting. It's something that Claudia and, recently, Joyce have been getting into. They would rope Steve into joining them whenever he time there.

But it's nice. He likes knitting. He likes the repetitively and how easy it is to simply... stop. Stop worrying, stop pacing, stop thinking. Stop being so afraid.

It's hard to be scared of beasts in the walls when he looks down and finds a badly knitted sock in his lap. It looks too silly.

The longer he spends on it though, the better he gets. It's not long until he's knitting things nice enough that he feels confident enough to wear them outside the house. And no one bats an eye.

Robin even steals some of his scarves- until she learns that he knit them and then she starts making demands. Which he's happy to fulfil. Seeing her light up when he hands her the scarf and gloves, in the exactly color and pattern she'd asked for, is more than worth it.

That Christmas, his new knitting skills save the day. He had to set himself a very strict budget for the presents. He's trying to save as much as he can, with Robin and Eddie, so they can move into a little house they have their eyes on.

He blows the entire budget on the kids.

So, with the help of Robin, he tries to think of the best things to knit for the adults.

Robin asks him to make them matching scarves and gloves. She knows that Nancy, Jonathan and Argyle will want matching things too, which solves what to get them. As well as Joyce and Hopper- though, Steve isn't sure how those will go down.

The other parents are easy. He's spoken to them, been in their homes enough, to know the patterns and colors they favor.

By the time he finishes knitting everyone their things... he's still not sure what to knit for Eddie. All he has is the black yarn he got and some of the maroon and dark green left over from the other projects.

"He'll be happy you got him anything at all," Robin teases. "You know that. You just want it to be perfect because-"

"He's my friend! Ok? I just want to get him something nice for Christmas."

"And that's all there is to it?"

"Yes!"

"Mhm," Robin smirks, slowly walking backwards towards the door, raising an eyebrow at him. "I totally believe you."

Even though Robin hadn't been any help with thinking of any good ideas, he's sure that he's only thinking of worse ones without her. It doesn't help that, the longer he sits and tries to think, the more ideas they came up with together he forgets.

In the end, he settles for a gothic version of a Christmas sweater. He tries to make it as detailed as he can- knitting in snowflakes and zig zags, the hellfire devil head instead of a reindeer and little Christmas trees along the bottom hem.

He shoves it into the little Christmas bag he got for it, taping the top shut before he can doubt himself. He tucks it away, pointedly avoiding so much as glancing at it.

It's a relief when, a few days later, Christmas comes around.

Most of them bounce between the Wheelers and the Byers homes. The kids all spend most of the day at the Wheelers, gathering all their presents with them. Dustin helps Steve bring the presents from him, Robin and Claudia inside.

He stops at the Byers, where most of the adults are gathered. Joyce and Nancy both try to convince him to change his mind, to stay for dinner, as he drops their presents off. But, as he reminds them, he promised Robin he'd spend Christmas dinner with her.

She's sat on the trailer steps with Eddie when Steve pulls up.

"You're late!" Eddie yells as Steve opens the trunk, grabbing the last three presents. "Have you no consideration for the peasants?!"

"Shut up," Steve says, rolling his eyes. He gently kicks him. "Move."

Eddie throws himself off the steps, onto the floor. "Ah! Rob, he's bullying me!"

"Good." Robin stands up, opening the door and waving Steve inside. She raises an eyebrow at Eddie. "Get up, I'm hungry."

"Fine!" Eddie says, scrambling to his feet. "You're all so mean to me."

Wayne clears his throat. He's stood by the kitchen, leaning with his arms crossed, watching them with an amused grin. "You kids ready to eat now or do you want to do presents first?"

"Food," they all say in sync.

The dinner is amazing, something Steve and Robin both keep telling Wayne. Whenever the conversation pauses, they have a little kick-fight on who gets to speak up that time.

Wayne jokingly asks Eddie why he's never so complimentary about his cooking, which earns him an eye roll.

"You don't need the ego boost, old man."

Wayne gets him in a loose headlock when he stands up, ruffling his hair, before quickly grabbing the plates that Steve tries to collect.

"No, no, no. You kids get started opening your presents, I've got these."

Robin drags him along, into the living room, by the collar of his polo when he tries to offer help. Eddie helps, grabbing his forearm. Steve grumbles the whole time, folding his arms when they push him down, onto the sofa.

"Ladies first," Eddie throws a present at Robin, nearly hitting her in the face. He grins widely when she flips him off.

He insists that, once Robin opens all of her presents, Steve has to open his. Then Wayne. And, once they've all opened theirs, Eddie claps his hands together at the remaining presents.

"Perfect. All for me." He grins, grabbing Steves first. He almost rips the bag with how hard he pulls at the tape.

"We have scissors," Robin waves them at him.

He bats them away, digging the sweater out of the bag. "Oooh, gothic Christmas, very-" he stops when he turns it over, staring at the front for a moment. "Is... is this, like, custom made?"

"Yeah, sort of," Steve says, shrugging. He offers a smile when Eddie looks up at him, looking almost... awed.

"He made it himself," Robin says. "He's gotten into knitting."

"You knit this? Yourself? Stevie, what the hell! This is amazing!" He quickly shrugs off his jacket so he can put the sweater on. "I'm never taking this off. Fuck, I could kiss you."

"Save it for the bedroom," Wayne quickly says, holding a hand up. "Some of us here don't want to see all that PDA."

Robin snickers. "Yeah, have some decency for the rest of us."

"Ha ha," Eddie deadpans. "You're both hilarious."

"Seriously though, son," Wayne puts a hand on his shoulder. "You know I'll support and love you no matter what, but I'd hate to see you and a girl getting like that just as much."

"What?" Eddie frowns, confused. "What are you talking about?"

Wayne glances between him and Steve. "You and your boy."

"Holy shit," Robin whispers. "I knew it wasn't just me."

"I'm, uh..." Steve eventually speaks up, once it's clear that Eddie isn't going to say anything, simply continuing to gape at Wayne. "I'm not his boy."

"What?" Wayne turns to Eddie with narrowed eyes. "You ain't asked him out yet? How many dates have you been on and you still ain't-"

"We're not dating," Eddie hisses. "I've told you this, like, seventy times!"

"This is amazing," Robin whispers, eyes darting between the two as they continue arguing back and forth. "Stevie, you owe me money."

Steve groans, slouching as low as he can, covering his red face with both hands.

#stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #robin buckley #steddie #steddie fic #ficlet #christma22k

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litnerdwrites · 14 days

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Feyre betrayed Nesta in the worst way...

It's a common stance that many people, regardless of if they love or hate Nesta/Rhys/the IC, seem to have, but I don't think it is. Was Nesta complacent in keeping it from her since she found out? Yes. Was that wrong of her? Yes again. Was blurting it out the way that she did also not ideal, to put it mildly? Absolutely yes. But was it out of malice? No.

And Nesta didn't care. Couldn't think around the roaring. 'Have any of them told you, their respected High lady, that the babe in your womb will kill you?' Amren barked, 'Shut your mouth!' But her order was confirmation enough. Face paling, Feyre whispered again, 'What do you mean?' 'The wings,' Nesta seethed. 'The boy's Illyrian wings will get stuck in your Fae body during the labour, and it will kill you both.'

The idea that this was all said in malice just never sat right to me, and after scrolling through some comments on a video discussing the matter, the pieces finally clicked into place. First, let's talk about the hike, though.

Her breakdown after that hike wasn't a moment of catharsis and letting walls down. It was a weeks worth of exhaustion, dehydration and depression that resulted in Nesta giving in to the torture she was put through just to end it. It was a pivotal moment in the IC's efforts to break and then reconstruct her to their liking, or rather, to Feyre's liking. However, a vital stepping stone in reaching this point would be for them to gaslight and isolate her until she truly had no one. I mentioned before that I didn't think anyone in the NC would chose Nesta, and this is an example of why I believe that.

Nesta snarled, but Feyre stepped between them, hands raised. 'This conversation ends now. Nesta, go back to the House. Amren, you...' She hesitated, as if considering the wisdom of ordering Amren around. Feyre finished carefully, 'You stay here.'

Nesta is clearly upset and hurting and Feyre disregards that entierly, not even offering to discuss or find out why Nesta is hurt or feeling the way she is. Feyre didn't bother to try and understand Nesta before and she isn't bothering now. Either Feyre assumes she knows what Nesta is thinking/ feeling, or she just doesn't care. She dismisses her, telling her to go back to her prison, disregarding Nesta's choices, autonomy and opinions again.

If I recall right, it was Amren who informed Nesta that she was free to go where she wanted if she made it down the ten thousand steps. Feyre wouldn't order Amren, even to stand up for her sister, but happily go against Amren's own words to punish Nesta? Hypocrisy at it's finest.

All of this leads to one outcome: Nesta feeling trapped. Cornered and without a single ally in the whorld who would defend her properly. Isolated from anyone who'd be willing to treat her with decency, while believing she doesn't even deserve the basics of kindness. It leaves Nesta more prone to actually going through with committing suicide, since the behaviour of these people, mixed with her own self hatred, sets a precedent for how Nesta believe she'd be treated.

We see this when Nesta first meets Emerie, thinking to herself that 'the invitations would stop' when Emerie learned what nesta was really like. Or at least what Nesta perceived herself to be like.

Even though Nesta has Emerie and Gwyn, she has no reason to think, based on what brainwashing the IC has already done coupled with her self deprecating mindset, that they wouldn't side with the IC. This isn't to say Emerie and Gwyn are like the IC by any means. I think they're great friends to Nesta, and if that changes or not later on is more so up to SJM and her writing, rather than their characterisation. It's the reality that the IC have created for Nesta through abuse, gaslighting and borderline torture that's wound up feeding in to Nesta's already existing trauma and self worth that has lead to her becoming isolated this way.

And Nesta didn't care. Couldn't think around the roaring. 'Have any of them told you, their respected High lady, that the babe in your womb will kill you?'

The comment on the video I saw explained that, while Nesta was angry when saying this, she wasn't trying to hurt Feyre or take her anger out on anyone. Nesta was angry because she wasn't told that she made a new trove. She was angry that these people had the audacity to vote on her life, and take bodily autonomy from her. She was angry that Feyre wasn't acknowledging or even trying to understand how Nesta was feeling. She was angry that she was treated like the bad guy- or more like a petulant child in this scene, I suppose- and had her feelings dismissed again.

Dismissed the way her mother/grandmother used to when she was trained. The way her father did when he refused to hunt. The way the Mortal Queens did when Nesta merely asked them to save her people. The way Feyre did when she asked for Nesta's help again, and again, and again during the war, only for it to never be enough in the eyes of other. The way that Elain did when she got upset at Nesta time and time again for how she handled her trauma or how she wasn't over her trauma or how Nesta tried to protect her. The way Cassian dismissed her feelings when he got mad at her for having an opinion of Rhysand.

Nesta was angry. She had every right to be angry. Most people would be angry, and alone, and if they already had suicidal thoughts like Nesta, having been abandoned by everybody while gaslit into thinking it was fine, and then only called upon to be used for the benefit of others while the snickered behind her back and dismissed her again.

As the commenter put it; She was trying to find someone who would relate to her anger. Nesta wanted an ally, someone who wouldn't leave her alone. Someone to be by her side and, perhaps subconsciously, thought that Feyre, who'd hunted for them and helped look after them for years, would chose Nesta's side.

The parallels between Nesta and Feyre's situation here are clear, and I think Nesta understood that when she said what she said. I think that Feyre believing Nesta said it to hurt her was a gross misunderstanding on her part, but it's not like she ever asked Nesta how she felt. Now that I think about it, for all that Feyre talks about Nesta feeling too much, and taking everything to heart, she never once confirms with Nesta. Never asks how Nesta feels.

Since coming to the Night Court, Nesta's feelings and traumas have been twisted and spoken about only in relation to how Feyre feels.

'Do you know how embarrassed I was when we got the bill this morning and my friends-my family- had to hear all about it?'

The intervention began, not because of Nesta doing something to risk hurting herself, but because Feyre was embarrassed and started crying into her breakfast.

'All of it pains me… It pains me that Nesta has become… this. It pains me that she and Feyre are always at each other’s throats. It pains me that Feyre hurts over it, and I know Nesta does, too.'

Cassian is pained, not because Nesta is suffering so greatly that she isolated herself for her own sisters (who didn't really act like sisters between the end of ACOWAR to... well now, so it's understandable), or because Nesta felt her only reprieve from her pain was in sex and alcohol, but because Feyre hurts over it. He knows Nesta does (but he doesn't know she hates fire? Or is uncomfortable at their social gatherings, since in ACOFS he somehow hoped she wouldn't take the bribe money and say she enjoyed their solstice party??? Because...Why?) But, of course, it's Feyre's feelings on the matter that are prioritised.

'Nesta is Nesta. She does what she wants, even if it kills her sister.'

Rhysand, not that I expect much from him, honestly, is utpse, not because he can't find a way to help Nesta. Not because his court is actively cruel to Nesta, hell, he joins in. Not because Nesta is in pain, in no small part because of him and his court. Not even because Nesta is spending his money. Because she's upsetting Feyre. Because, god forbid, Nesta have trauma and handle it in a way that doesn't make his wife happy.

Feyre tells others how she thinks Nesta feels, the others go with it, or just come to their own conclusions, not sure which is worse, but nobody stops to consider how she feels. Feyre feeling like Nesta said it to hurt her, I think, is simply proof that she doesn't understand Nesta.

Let me ask you, if you found out you were lied to in a way that affects your ability to make informed decisions regarding your own body, by someone you were supposed to trust, and who should've had your back, and that your own sibling has been betrayed by the same people in a very similar, if not identical way, and yet you're the one being turned into the bad guy, and dismissed, would that not make you feel isolated and frustrated?

It's understandable that Nesta tried, either consciously or subconsciously, feel less alone by appealing to common ground to find an ally. Nesta mentions at the end of ACOSF that she believes Feyre loved her from the start, and after those years in the cabin, I think Nesta sees Feyre as someone reliable.

This scene doesn't feels like Nesta trying to hurt Feyre. It feels like Nesta trying to reach out to the one person she could rely on; Feyre. Her mother was abusive, her father was a deadbeat, Elain was her ward, and the IC hate her.

'Nesta studied me for a long moment. And then she said with equal quiet, though we could all hear, “I can’t get into a bathtub, anymore. I have to use buckets.” I hadn’t known—hadn’t even thought that bathing, submerging water…'

Amren tells Cassian to keep reaching out his hand, even though Nesta has reached out her own time and time again. Esspecially to Feyre, as she was the one Nesta relied on before. Possibly even the only person Nesta has ever relied on, and Fyre was the one she was trying to rely on now.

Nesta relied on Feyre, and needed to rely on her again. To have strength together, in a situation where they both lost their choices and autonomy to Rhysand and his (cause don't pretend it's even slightly Feyre's) IC.

It may have been wrong to say it in that way, at that time, under those circumstances, but this, to me, feels like Nesta's way of reaching out her own hand only to be misunderstood, punished, and dismissed again. And again. And again.

In a way, I think Feyre might have, unintentionally, betrayed Nesta in a worse way than Elain ever has. Elain was a ward. Almost like a child, to Nesta. They were never on equal footing. Moreover, Nesta was never punished if she upset Elain, no that she should be, or if Elain misunderstood her. Nesta never relied on Elain the way she relied on Feyre. She never trusted or had faith in Elain, the way she clearly trusted Feyre. She had thought she'd found an ally, with similar pain, in Feyre, in the moments she spilled the secret, but Feyre didn't care.

When I was reading the scene where Cassian told Feyre his idea to take Nesta on a punishment hike, she sounded all too gleeful when telling him how miserable Nesta would be. That, in my opinion, is the worst betrayal of all.

#anti ic #anti inner circle #pro nesta #anti rhysand #nesta deserves better #anti acosf #pro nesta archeron #anti amren #anti mor #anti feyre #anti cassian #anti morrigan #anti rhys

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blackshadowswriter · 1 year

Text

Kneel At The Altar┃Matt Murdock

Summary: The one in which the Devil fucks you at the altar.

Warnings: blasphemy? (because I'm pretty sure you're not supposed to fuck in church), reader (me) having very unholy thoughts about Matt in church and Matt acting on those unholy thoughts, little bit of exhibitionism, smut: dom!Matt, kinda rough p in v sex, oral sex (f receiving), teasing, edging, praying while Matt eats you out AND fingers you (???), choking kink, praise kink, spanking, some degradation, marking, multiple orgasms, some overstimulation, dirty talk (not particularly in that order)

God, if you're reading this, stop here, it isn't for you bby 😘

Words: 7,691

AN: Would you believe me if I said that this fic idea formed in my head WHILE I was in church? I'm not even kidding, I got dragged to church, and I literally thought up this fic while sitting in church, half-listening to a sermon. This fic has been sitting in my drafts for a while now, and I guess the wait was worth it because I bring you 7k words of pure sin. My content warnings have never been this long before, and that's probably not a good sign (or it's a very, very good sign)

Tagging my wonderful @farfromstrange because you also inspired me to finish this, and our horny enthusiasm for this fic kept me going, ily sm girl 🖤

As you knelt in front of the altar on your hands on knees with tears in your eyes and the Devil himself between your legs, you wondered how you had gotten yourself into this predicament.

It had started out so innocent: dear Matthew asking you to go to mass with him, swaying you with his plea of "I don't want to go alone, sweetheart, please" and that drowned puppy look in his eyes. For someone who couldn't see out of them, Matt could express a great deal of emotion in his eyes.

You agreed to accompany him to Sunday morning mass and returned the victorious grin that had spread across his face with a fond one of your own. You weren't usually one for religious settings like this, but it was worth it to see Matt in that black suit with the white dress shirt—one of your favorite outfits on Matt.

Half of the sermon fell on your deaf ears as most of your attention was on Matt, studying his gorgeous side profile and that stubbled jawline that you loved kissing when he fucked you. God, it felt even better between your legs. The thought of that sent heat flaring across your body as you squeezed your thighs together.

Besides you, Matt cleared his throat quietly, nudging you in your side, undoubtedly guessing where your thoughts had gone. A faint blush rose to your cheeks when you saw that Matt's jaw was clenched tightly, a sign you had come to know meant that he was trying to control himself. The sight of that only spurred on further thoughts of Matt losing control and fucking you right there.

Matt let out a quiet but ragged breath, and you knew he could smell the arousal between your thighs. His grip on his cane was so tense that his knuckles had turned white, his scars visible against his trembling fist. Your mouth went dry as you remembered those knuckles buried inside of you as you moaned for him just a few nights ago. Thighs clenching even tighter together, you bit back a grin at Matt's low hiss of your name.

Subtly, Matt adjusted his pants next to you, and the discomfort on his face made you stifle a laugh. The quiet growl Matt rumbled in warning did nothing to dissuade you. You could feel the heat of Matt's body pressed against yours and bit your lip, recalling how it felt against your bare skin.

Your fingers started to creep towards Matt's thigh, lightly skimming up and down the side of those muscular thighs that always caged you in when he knelt on top of you in bed. Faster than you could blink, Matt's hand flew towards you and caught your wrist in his tight grip.

"Not here, for God's sake," he hissed in your ear.

"Funny you'd phrase it like that," you murmured in amusement.

Matt turned to glare at you behind his opaque red glasses, but the way he had to fold his hands across his lap to maintain some semblance of his Good Catholic Boy image in church (which you had come to realize was a total façade) told you he wanted it as much as you did.

You should probably listen to him and stop before anything happened. What was the punishment for getting handsy in God's house again? You had a feeling you didn't want to know.

But there was the slight thrill of excitement shooting through you at the risk of doing this in pubic. A sly grin slid across your lips as you tilted your head towards Matt's ear, letting your hair fall forward in a way that would seem to onlookers as though you were merely whispering something to him. Instead, you nipped at his neck right below his ear where you knew he was sensitive. Matt's entire form, every inch of thick muscle and power stiffened at the contact, and you heard him give the smallest, tinniest groan that no one other than you would be able to hear.

Matt growled your name in warning, but there was no denying the lust burning in his dark eyes. His blank gaze had landed somewhere around your lips, and you wondered if he really was going to give into desire and kiss your right there.

But then everyone started to rise around them to sing the closing songs, and the sudden movement snapped both of you out of whatever horny haze you had been in. You stood like everyone else, shoulders pressed together, forced to ignore the blatant lust coiling in both of you.

For now.

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"I'm going out," Matt whispered to you sometime late at night as you laid curled in bed with a book in hand while the shadow of the Devil stood behind you.

At his words, you shut your book and rolled over to face him, eyes roving over the skin-tight black suit through which you could practically see every single ab. His black mask was held in one hand while the other came up to cradle your face gently. As much was you enjoyed Matt in his black lawyer suit, you decided that you enjoyed Matt even more in his black Devil suit when you could run your fingers across his broad chest and feel the almost burning heat of his skin underneath.

You tilted your head up to study Matt's face. Whenever his mask was on, cloaking so much of his face in black, he felt like a phantom shadow that could disappear if you closed your eyes for a second too long. There was something sharp and fiery and dangerous about him.

You didn't mind of course. In actuality, you enjoyed it—enjoyed the danger of dancing with the Devil.

"Okay," you said, sitting up to press a kiss to his soft lips. "Stay safe."

"I will," he murmured, brushing his calloused fingers across your temple. "Stay in the apartment. Wait for me when I get back."

You knew that voice—that low, possessive tone that dripped with promise for what was to come. A knowing smirk flitted across your lips as you hooked your legs around his waist to pull him nearer. "Yeah?" you challenged. "And what are you going to do when you get back?"

Matt chuckled softly, and even though the mask was off, that sound right there was purely the Devil speaking. "Oh sweetheart," he purred. "That's only for me to know, isn't it?"

That low, raspy voice he used rekindled that fiery want that had burned so dangerously in you hours earlier. By the time Sunday morning mass had been over, Foggy and Karen had called you both over for lunch in the office. The rest of the day had went by as normal with neither of you acknowledging what had transpired in the church outside of his promising smirks and your light, teasing touches ghosting across his body.

Now, however, with the Devil ready to be unleashed, there was nothing stopping that eager, burning desire rearing its head in both of you.

Nothing except Matt's duty to the city.

Fucking morals. You could just stay with me in bed, you thought about telling him. You might even be able to cajole him into staying if you could rile him up enough.

But no. You understood Matt's commitment to Hell's Kitchen even if you weren't too fond of the fact he got beat up every night. Still, it would be cruel to ask him to stop what he did just for you, just so he could hear the cries of those who needed him going unanswered in the merciless shadow of the night.

You weren't above asking for a little taste of his promise, however. "Tell me," you begged softly. "Tell me what you want to do to me."

That sharp grin was still on his face. "When I come back," Matt whispered in your ear, "I am going to fuck you into this mattress so hard that you won't be able to keep quiet." His fingers danced down the nape of your neck lightly, and you shivered. "And you're going to be screaming my name so loud, so everyone can hear who you belong to."

"Oh my God," you whimpered, eyes rolling back at the promise. That heat coiling in your stomach lashed out across your body, spreading through you like a wildfire. It pooled between your thighs, making you clench them tightly together with a soft moan. "Matthew."

The devilish smile that spread across his lips was absolutely sinful, a promise of the night to come. "But," he rumbled in your ear, his hand reaching down to grasp your wrist as he had in church. "You are not to touch yourself until I come back. Do you understand?"

You whimpered again.

"I said," Matt growled, "do you understand me?"

"Yes," you whined. "But God, Matt, please...I can't wait that long, Matt, please—"

"You will," he said sharply, "or you'll be punished." He released his harsh hold on your wrist and brought his hand up to trail lightly across your cheek, his tenderness a stark contrast to his rough dominance a few seconds ago. "You can do that for me, can't you, sweetheart? Can't you be a good girl for me? Can't you be a good girl and wait for me to get back to fuck you?"

Fuck, not the praise.

Your head fell backwards with a small shuddering moan, eyes falling shut as your thighs squeezed tightly together, a desperate motion to ease the ache in your core. "Matt," you whimpered. "Please."

His low laugh breezed across your cheek, and Matt's hand disappeared from your cheek. "Be good," came his stern order, and then the radiant heat from Matt's body vanished, leaving you panting and desperate.

By the time your eyes had snapped open, the Devil was gone, melting back into the shadows into the night.

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You tried.

Oh God, you truly tried.

You laid there in bed, body burning with desperate need as you tried not to think about what Matt was planning to do to you lest your predicament worsen.

You tried to read. You rolled onto your stomach and flipped your book back open, trying to pick up where you left off. It did no good—the words wouldn't permeate the fog of sinful thoughts swarming in your head that screamed Matt, Matt, Matt.

You thought about disobeying Matt and touching yourself, just to relieve some of that pressure building between your legs but quickly dismissed the idea. Matt would know if you did—he would smell the scent of your arousal on your fingers and instantly know what you had done. Even though the prospect of his punishment was excitement, tonight you didn't think you could stand his merciless teasing. You needed him desperately.

Eventually, after nearly an hour of lying there, you got out of bed and slipped your shoes on. You would go for a walk around the neighborhood, you decided. The fresh air would help clear your head and calm yourself down.

At least that's what you told yourself you would say if a certain Devil caught your scent and chased you down.

And if you were really just hoping that said Devil really would catch your scent...well, that was no one's business, was that?

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In an interesting twist of irony, you made it as far as the gates of Clinton Church before he caught up with you.

You thought you had heard him behind you several times as you walked, and you knew he must have been letting you hear his small footsteps and scuffles on purpose. If he wanted to, Matt could move like a giant Devilish cat, leaping across rooftops thought the dark in absolute silence.

But then you paused in front of the church, staring at the stained glass windows through which you could see the dark interior as you thought about that morning. You didn't even noticed the church doors slowly creeping open in front of your, too caught up in your thoughts.

Suddenly, a strong arm snaked around your waist and yanked you through the doors into the dark church. The startled gasp that flew from your lips at the quick movement was quickly stifled by a large hand over your mouth, but you weren't afraid. You could feel the familiar, broad line of muscle pressed against your back, his body heat that always burned so warm a comforting feeling after the cold New York air.

"I told you to wait for me," a low voice hissed in your ear.

You bit back a grin, the tingle of excitement in your stomach growing stronger. "I was just going out for a walk," you said innocently.

He growled behind you and dragged you towards the altar through the rows of empty pews. As your feet stumbled along, your eyes darted around the dark interior, sweeping for any sign of company. You shouldn't have been worried though—Matt had far more effectively scoped out the inside already to make sure no one else was there.

"Kneel," Matt ordered when they reached the altar.

You obeyed, dropping to your knees in front of the wooden table. The cloth that usually draped across it was absent tonight—perhaps being cleaned or for some other reason. It didn't matter. All that mattered right now was the man pressed against your back.

"You've been a bad girl tonight," Matt mused, his chest vibrating against your back when he spoke.

"Well, you were taking so long, so I thought I'd come find you," you replied sweetly, unable to keep the grin off your face this time.

Matt hadn't told you that you could move, so you kept still in the position he had ordered you in—kneeling in front of the altar facing forward away from the warm frame of muscle and power at your back. Your eyes turned, almost automatically, up towards the massive statue of Jesus hanging from the cross as you silently wondered if Matt really was planning on taking your right in front of that statue. You decided you wouldn't mind if he did.

Behind you, you could hear Matt pacing quietly, purposefully keeping out of your line of sight. He made a tsking noise. "So impatient," he tutted. "Perhaps I need to teach you the virtue of patience, don't you think, sweetheart?"

You licked your lips slowly. "What does this lesson on patience include, sir?" you asked, emphasizing the last word with a smirk.

His sharp inhale carried to your ears, and your grin widened. Your goal tonight was to rile Matt up enough that he would either forget about your disobedience or not care. So far, the plan was going great.

Then, his hand fisted in your hair and yanked your head back. Matt's burning form reappeared, pressed flushed against your back. His hot breath was in your ear suddenly, growling, "I want you to take these off—" his finger curled in the waistband of your pants and snapped them against your waist "—and get on your hands and knees."

When you didn't move at first, he landed a sharp hit to your clothed ass. You yelped, and his hand darted up to cover your mouth.

"Move, sweetheart," he ordered lowly. "And keep quiet. We don't want anyone hearing us here, do we?"

"No," you panted even though you weren't sure if you were telling the truth. His hand released your hair, and you scrambled to obey him, peeling off your jeans and tossing them aside before kneeling how he told you to. The position felt oddly exposed—you could feel cold air breezing across your naked legs and shivered.

"That's better," Matt murmured behind you. His bare hand—when had he taken off the gloves?—brushed against the back of your thigh, and you whimpered, instinctively pressing back against him. This time, when his hand came down your ass, you didn't have the denim of your jeans to protect you. The sound of his hand against the thin material of your panties echoed with a sharp crack through the church. You had to bring a hand up to fist in your mouth to keep quiet from the sting.

"So." He trailed a finger across the back of your thighs lazily, occasionally dipping them down to slide along the soaked fabric of your panties, taking pleasure in each of your hitched breathes. "You want to explain what that was about earlier?"

"I was just going for a walk," you whimpered, desperately arching back into him, but his fingers disappeared the moment you did. The next second, another sharp smack landed on your ass, jolting you forward with a small gasp.

"That's not what I was asking, and you know it," Matt said calmly. "I was talking about this morning."

A feeling of something—you didn't know what that was—ran down your spine, and you shivered, heart rate picking up at the memory of your little dalliance during mass.

"I don't know," you breathed.

Your heart skipped. Lie.

Another harsh strike landed on your ass. "You do."

"Fuck, Matt," you nearly cried, "please!"

"What are you asking for, hm?" Matt murmured, running a large palm over your stinging ass. "Tell me, sweetheart."

"Touch me, fuck me, anything," you begged. "Please, Matt, I've waited so long."

"Then you can wait a little more, can't you?"

"No," you panted, trying not to move, your body on fire. "Matt, please!"

He gave a thoughtful hum, fingers teasing you lightly through the thin fabric of your panties. Your hips bucked back instantly, a sharp whine leaving your throat at the touch. You tried to grind against his hand, but he yanked it away with a low, almost mocking chuckle.

"You've been naughty today, sweetheart," Matt purred. "Having such unholy thoughts in church—don't think I didn't know what you were thinking about. Tell me what were you imagining, hmm?"

Heat rose to your face, melting right along with the fire raging across the rest of your body. "I don't know," you stammered.

"Lie," Matt said, his voice darkly amused. His hand slid underneath your jaw and tilted your head back, so he could press his lips to the shell of your ear. "Were you thinking about me fucking you, sweetheart?"

A ragged moan fell from your mouth, a pulse of heat running across your spine. You let your head fall back against Matt's shoulder, arching back against him. The hand gripping your jaw stroked your cheek gently, a glimpse of softness underneath his dominating exterior.

"Please," you begged quietly. "I need it, Matt. I'll do anything, please..."

"Anything?"

"Anything."

He let out a quiet, considering noise, his fingers absently stroking your jaw with a gentleness that you had come to know precede the roughness. You whimpered quietly, begging him in your head to hurry up and do whatever the fuck he wanted to do so he could just fuck you already. Your body was aching with need, that fire in your raging to be satisfied.

"How well do you remember the Lord's Prayer?" Matt asked you abruptly.

You blinked in surprise. "T-the Lord's Prayer?"

"Yes."

"Um...kind of?" you said uncertainly. "Haven't done it since middle school." You felt the breath from his quiet laughter skate across your earlobe and twitched in anticipation of whatever he had planned.

"Here's what's going to happen," he said slowly, his tone dipping back down into the low timber of his Devil voice, the one that always sent shivers down your spine. "You're going to recite it for me as penance for your sins."

"I didn't—"

"Thinking about the Devil fucking you in church is a sin, sweetheart," Matt cooed. "You're going to need to repent if you want to get what you want."

"Y-you want me to pray."

"Yes."

"Right here. Kneeling in my panties. With you at my back, half grinding on my ass."

A sharp swat landed on your ass. "Hmm, it seems more like you were the one grinding on me," he chuckled lowly, dragging his finger along the seam of your underwear. "As for the panties, God might mind, but I don't think the Devil does. In fact, he prefers you praying like this. Go on, sweetheart. Say your prayer, and maybe I'll think about giving you what you want."

You drew in a shaky breath, trying to clear your head away from thoughts of Matt, fuck me already and remember the words of the prayer. This actually wasn't so bad, you decided. It was a bit of a weird request to pray, kneeling at the altar in soaked panties, but it was fine. All you had to do was recite the prayer, and then hopefully, Matt would be satisfied and finally give in to you.

Oh, how wrong you were.

"Okay," you started to say, the vaguely remembered words coming to the tip of your tongue. "Um...Our Father...who art in heaven...hallowed be...thy name?"

"Keep going," Matt purred in your ear, his hands sliding down from your face to lightly grip your throat for a brief moment, enjoying your shaky groan at the contact. He pushed you back down onto your hands and knees, hand running down to your waist and dragging sensually across your hips.

Whimpering at the touch, you bit your lip and forced the next words out. "Y-your kingdom come....and, um....your will be done—Matt, what are you—?"

For he had just hooked his fingers in the waistband of your panties and started to slide them down your hips. Your breath caught in your throat at the way the fabric slid against your most sensitive areas. "Don't worry about me," he murmured. "Just lift your legs up for me—there you go. Continue."

What the actual fuck? Did he honestly expect you to be even close to okay after that? He slid your panties completely free of your legs, leaving your soaked heat bare to him. You whimpered at the barely there brush of his fingers against your inner thigh, just a few inches away from where you ached for him most.

"Continue, sweetheart," Matt ordered.

You tried to take another deep breath and continue where you'd left off. "Okay, um...will be done...on—on Earth as it is in Heaven. Uh...give us this day our—fucking hell, Matthew—oh my God, fuck!"

You lurched forward, a strangled cry falling from your lips when you felt Matt's mouth suddenly close around your dripping cunt, tongue lashing mercilessly against your clit so fast and so sharp it nearly hurt. He kept up the torturous pace for a few seconds while you writhed and moaned, pleasure striking like lightning between your legs and arcing up to your back and across your legs. His mouth on you was both a remedy and fuel to the desperate need that had been kindling there all night. Your hands clawed at the carpet underneath you, fire burning across every nerve in your body as you shuddered and cried out for him.

Then, as suddenly as it came, his mouth vanished from your cunt in a heartbeat, and you were left just as empty and desperate as you were a few seconds ago.

"No!" you choked out, voice thick with fading pleasure and need as you tried to grind back against him uselessly. "Matt, please!"

He didn't answer your plea for a few moments, instead dragging his tongue across his lips and moaning softly as the taste of you. God, you were perfection to him, you always were. Matt wanted nothing more than to dive back between your legs and drink from you until you had nothing left to give him.

But half the enjoyment of the catch was the chase, and Matt was not done teasing you yet. He laughed darkly, landing another slap to your ass, gentler this time but no less firm. "I told you to pray, sweetheart," he reminded you. "I told you to pray and repent for your sins. And what do you do? Be a filthy little girl and start moaning for me? In God's house? What a dirty little girl you are."

Your mouth fell open at the sheer audacity of this man to accuse you of such a thing when he just fucking ate you out right in front of the altar. Still, there was no hiding the shudder that rolled through you at his words, and Matt gripped your hips firmer.

"You're going to finish your prayer," Matt ordered. "No matter what happens, and then we'll see if you deserve to get fucked."

"'No matter what happens?'" you repeated in a choked whisper. "Are you—you're not actually going to—"

Another hard hit landed on your ass, the sting only feeding the fire threatening to consume you. "Pray, sweetheart," Matt ordered. "Can't you follow a simple command?"

You swallowed thickly. "Y-yes, I can."

"Good. Then continue."

You whimpered softly, squeezing your eyes shut as you tried to ignore the burning, aching need for him between your legs. Where had you even left off on the prayer?

"Give us this day our daily bread," you stammered out. "And—um—forgive us our— oh God!"

Because fuck, his mouth was on you again, hungrily lapping at your cunt as you bucked against him desperately. His hot tongue dragged across your clit, and burning pleasure was scorching every inch of your skin. You threw back your head with a wanton moan when Matt circled the sensitive bud with a quick swipe of tongue that had you writhing in his firm grip.

"Matt!" you cried, molten heat rolling across every nerve in your body. Your hands curled against the carpet, desperately grasping for something to hold on to, to brace you against the raging fire licking at your insides.

Matt paused in his motions, pulling his mouth away for a second, but his finger came to replace his tongue, drawing languid circles on your clit that had you rolling your hips in desperation.

"I told you to pray," he told you again, quiet warning in his voice. "Don't make me remind you again."

A strangled noise fell from your lips. "Y-you keep eating me out, and you want me to pray?" you squeaked.

You didn't have to look back to know he had that feral grin on his lips, the one that always drove you insane. "Oh sweetheart, that was the plan from the beginning."

And his deliciously thick finger plunged into you with a sinfully slick noise that seemed to echo through the empty church like a reminder of the blasphemy taking place at the altar, and then you were writhing, whining, whimpering as Matt fucked you slowly with his middle finger. His purposefully slow, deliberate strokes had you moaning so loud, you thought anyone passing by the church might hear you. Each thrust of his finger inside of you stoked that deep, festering pleasure that burned in your very core, making you arch and cry out to a God too ashamed to answer you.

That was okay, you thought through a thick haze of pleasure. You didn't need God to answer you. You needed the Devil to fuck you.

Matt groaned, his eyes rolling back at the smell of your arousal. He dragged his tongue over his lips, bringing the delicious taste of you from the air into his mouth, heat rippling through him at that new sensation. Painfully hard and throbbing in his pants, Matt panted, desperately drawing another breath in just to drag more of your taste into him. You were exquisite. You were perfect, his good little girl, making such pretty noises for him. You were everything he needed and so much more.

His thumb dragged across your sensitive clit, sending jolts of fiery pleasure stabbing through you as that pressure started to build in your lower abdomen, fire coiling into a tight rope, ready to snap. And oh, there it was, sweet orgasm dancing within reach, so close but so far away. Half sobbing, you arched against him, desperately trying to get him to fuck you faster.

But then Matt's fingers withdrew suddenly, leaving you empty and aching, slick dripping down your thighs as a harsh sob left your chest. The burning edge of orgasm was already fading away. "Matt," you cried, "please! Please, Matt, please, you've been teasing me for so long—"

"Isn't that what you wanted?" he snarled, his hand fisting in your hair to yank your head back, so his lips were right against your ear. "Don't act like you didn't want this, you dirty little girl."

A wanton moan slipped from your mouth before you could stop it, before you could register the embarrassment. "I wanted you to fuck me," you groaned. "I need it, Matt, please."

Abruptly, he released his grip on your hair but not before delivering another harsh swat to your ass. "You want me to fuck you? Then do as I say," he commanded. "I gave you an order, sweetheart, and you still haven't followed it. You better finish that prayer before I decide to give you another punishment for not listening."

"I—I don't—"

Another hit to your ass. "Did you not hear me?" Matt growled, his voice all rough edges and heated ash drifting across your skin. "Or do you just enjoy being a brat?"

This, you thought vaguely, this should be embarrassing. The way he degraded you, the way he called you his dirty little girl, his brat—if it had been any other man, you would've beat the shit out of him. But oh, it was him, it was your Matt, it was your Devil whispering filthy words to you, and every single syllable sent another pulse of heat rolling through you like molten lava.

"This is your last warning," Matt said lowly. "Finish your prayer now, or I'll give you another punishment."

Your brain scrambled to comprehend what he was saying, or at least some part of your brain that hadn't shut down, that wasn't giving in to primal instinct to beg Matt to fuck you. Where the fuck had you even left off?

"...F-forgive us our trespasses as we forgive...our—no, uh, those who trespass against us. And, um, lead us not into temptatio—ah, Matt!"

God, this time it was two of his wonderfully thick fingers pushing into you abruptly, thick heat pulsing through you. Your hips bucked against him instinctively, seeking moremoremore. The words of the prayer died on your tongue, replaced by shameless whimpers and moans as Matt dragged them out slowly and then shoved them back in a harsh thrust, the tips of his fingers barely grazing that spot, deep inside of you. Desperate, keening cries tumbled from your mouth as you threw your head back, gasping and whining.

You—oh God—you needed more. Hot pleasure wormed its way through your body, consuming every other thought until you were left with nothing but primal, wanton need. Your arms trembled as you barely held yourself up, cunt throbbing around Matt's fingers achingly.

This time, when Matt pulled your hair back and snarled in your ear, his fingers didn't leave you. Instead, they continued their torturously slow pace even as he purred, "Finish the goddamn prayer, sweetheart, and don't make me ask again."

You knew better than to protest the unfairness of him making you recite a prayer while he fucked you on his fingers in front of the altar. You could barely summon a thought that wasn't fuck me, Matt, please, but you managed to choke out the next line.

"Deliver us from evil," you sobbed even as Matt brushed his thumb across your clit again, making you jolt at the sharp pleasure racing along the bud of sensitive nerves. "I—ah!—don't know the rest—" you stammered, desperate to reach the end.

"Lie," he chuckled in your ear. "Lie one more time, and that prayer is going to be the least of your problems, sweetheart."

Your head fell back against his hand, eyes falling shut as your needy whimpers echoed along the church walls. His fingers had picked up pace, and now Matt pressed them deep enough to just ever so slightly brush against your g-spot. Even that brief, barely there contact was enough to have you dripping and throbbing on his fingers.

"Finish it," Matt cooed in your ear. "Come on, honey, you're so close."

In both ways, you thought distantly in your muddled mind. "Please!" you cried.

"Finish the last bit, and you can come," he promised.

Well, that changed things. Spurred on by his vow, you blinked harshly, trying to put aside the scorching pleasure arcing through your body for a second.

"For the—the kingdom and—uh something about power and glory—is yours, uh, nowandforeveramen," you rushed out, squeezing your eyes shut, and begging, begging that it was good enough for Matt.

"Hmm," he hummed, considering. Should he make you redo that last bit? Technically it wasn't correct, and how he would love to hear you cry for him if he made you repeat it. But then you ground your hips back, trying to fuck yourself on his fingers with a strangled cry of "please, sir!" And oh, how he could deny that?

Matt didn't reply, but you heard him shifting behind you, the rhythm of his fingers pausing for a second. A half sobbed plea was forming on your lips, but it was chased away in a heartbeat when the glorious wet heat of Matt's mouth closed around your cunt again.

Sinfully loud moans and gasps tore from your throat, your head falling forward. Fiery pleasure almost too much to handle burned between your legs, coursing up through your entire body until your toes were curling and your hands gripping the carpet. Matt lapped at your clit like a man starved, all while his fingers resumed their motions, finally picking up pace, settling into a fast rhythm you so desperately needed.

You were racing towards your climax at a speed that would've been embarrassing if Matt hadn't been edging you all night. "Please," you choked out, tears streaming down your face from the sheer intensity of it all. "Please, Matt, you said I could come, I need it, please—"

And his hand that was holding on to you squeezed your hip, and that was all the confirmation you needed. Wrapping his lips around your clit and sucking, Matt curled his fingers inside of you just right, pressing down on that spot, and then you just fell. Off that high cliff you had been dancing to and from for the entire night.

The plummet was truly something else: your back arched, and a ragged cry—almost scream—was falling from your mouth, incoherent noises and words reaching Matt's ears as orgasm surged over you like a tidal wave, knocking you off your feet and dragging you under into a blanket of blissful oblivion. You swore you saw stars popping in the corners of your blurry vision, so much white-hot pleasure burning through you, it was almost incomprehensible.

Matt slowed the drag of his fingers but kept up soft little kitten licks on your clit as you came down until you were twitching and whimpering from the oversensitivity. But he didn't wait for you to fully recover before continuing.

In one swift move, he flipped you over into your back, and you got a glimpse of his powerful form leaning over you, his flushed face, his straining bulge in his pants, his lust-filled eyes burning into you before his mouth crashed against yours in a fiery kiss.

You could practically feel his hunger devouring you from that kiss from the way he claimed your lips, hot tongue pressing into your mouth the second you opened to him. His teeth lightly nipped your bottom lip, and your moan was swallowed by his tongue sliding against yours. Matt groaned into your mouth, his hips grinding down against you.

"Matt," you whined when he broke the kiss to let you come up for air. "Please, I need you."

He growled, the hungry sound nothing short of feral as he dipped his head to suck at your neck. The hot embrace of his mouth at your throat had you keening, tilting your head back for more, which he gave you, his teeth grazed the delicate, vulnerable skin. A low hum rippled through his form before he suddenly sank his teeth into your neck, nipping you hard enough to leave a mark. You gasped, body involuntarily arching up into him as Matt dragged his tongue over the spot he had bit as if soothing it.

"Wanna mark you, sweetheart," he moaned into your neck. "So they know who you belong to."

Jesus fucking Christ. This man was going to be the death of you.

"Fuck me," you begged. "I want it, Matt, please. Mark me, fuck me, make me yours."

Another feral snarl rumbled deep in his chest, and then suddenly, you were lifted up into the air before your back hit a cold, stone table.

Did he just put you on the fucking altar?

You didn't have time to think about that, however, because Matt was hurriedly unbuckling his pants, and the only thought left in your head was finally. Eagerly, you helped him shove those goddamn pants off his hips, licking your lips at the sight of his straining cock in his boxers before you yanked those down too, reveling in Matt's soft whimper. His cock was painfully hard, the tip bright red and slick with his precum that dripped down his throbbing length. The mere sight of his gorgeous cock had you clenching your thighs together as you wrapped your hand around his thigh girth, stroking him softly. The throaty moan of your name he let out sent shivers racing down your spine.

"Sweetheart," he groaned, eyes falling shut.

"Please," you whined, "I need you, Matt. I need you inside me."

"Fuck," he breathed, and his fingers curled around your hips, yanking you forward suddenly. With a gasp, you were dragged across the altar until your legs could wrap around Matt, who was standing right between between thighs, all that thick, powerful muscle cradled between your legs. Matt lined his cock up with your entrance and brought his hand out to cradle your face. "I want to hear you scream for me," he ordered. "I want everyone to hear who you belong to."

You whimpered, nodding frantically. "I—yes, Matt, yes, just please—just fuck me, Matt."

Even like this, flushed, panting, and as obviously needy as you were, he could still manage that cocky smirk as his finger brushed across your lips. "You asked for it," he chuckled and finally, finally pushed himself into you, inch by burning inch.

Your eyes rolled back into your head, your mouth falling open as slowly, he slid his thick length into you, the stretch of him in your cunt welcome after the emptiness of so long. "Matt," you moaned when he finally bottomed out, his ragged groan matching your own. God, he was so big, so thick, seated deep inside of you. His burning body molded perfectly against you, the endless expanse of lean muscle and soft skin glorious underneath your roaming hands.

"You feel so good, sweetheart," he panted, dragging his cock out slowly and sliding back in, his leisure pace driving you mad. "Ah!—fuck—you're so tight, baby."

"Want you," you moaned, arching into him. "Want you to fuck me. Fuck me the way I know you want to, Matt, please."

He let out another ragged groan, the hand cradling your cheek moving down to wrap around your throat, not squeezing but just holding for the time being. "Y-yeah?" he stuttered, trying to sound rough and in control but failing as he swallowed down another eager moan. You loved watching him like this, watching the way he fell apart in front of you, all because of you. "And what's that?"

You wrapped your legs around Matt's hips to let him grind deeper into your cunt, matching his heady pant with a needy whimper of your own. "Y-you wanna fuck me hard," you moaned out. "Could feel it, Matt, could feel the way you want it. Please, I—I can take it, I need you to—oh fuck!—fuck me rough. Take me, Matt, please."

His growl rumbled deep in his throat, and the large hand gripping your throat squeezed just once. Matt dipped his head down to place a kiss on your lips, sweet and gentle one last time as he purred against your mouth.

Then, he braced his other hand next to your head on the altar, and when he dragged his hips back, this time he returned to you with a vicious snap of his hips, slamming his cock back into you. A strangled gasp flew from your mouth as your hands scrambled against the altar surface beneath you, trying to find something to hold onto.

But there was nothing, nothing other than you and Matt and the fast, rough, almost brutal pace he set as he drove himself into you again and again. This pleasure was so much deeper and stronger than before, each delicious drag of his cock against your slick cunt sending sparks careening through your body until your brain felt overloaded with bliss. The sounds you two were making were nothing short of downright filthy: the slap of skin on skin as Matt's hips collided with your thighs, the slick noise of his cock gliding through your obscene wet cunt, the sinfully loud moans falling from both of your lips.

Matt's grip on your throat tightened when you clenched around his cock, and he growled, the sound thick and hazy with lust and need. He picked up his pace even more, fucking you so hard you knew you were going to feel it tomorrow, but you didn't give a shit. Worth it, in your opinion, if it came from Matt Murdock railing you like this.

"Matt," you slurred, half drunk on the pleasure he gave you. He stroked your jaw with his thumb, his blank eyes, dark with arousal and lust, focused somewhere around your lips.

"Fuck, sweetheart," he panted, his hips driving into you with animal-like need. "Y-you feel so good. So wet, so tight just for me. You sound so—fucking pretty getting fucked on my cock."

You whined, writhing beneath him even as his hand not gripping your throat pressed against your waist to hold you down. Every goddamn nerve in your body was screaming, burning, scorching with the pleasure that rolled across your body in throbbing waves. Matt adjusted his grip on your waist, lifting you up every so slightly but oh at that perfect angle that let him hit your g-spot with each thrust of his hips.

Your high moan, pitched almost at a scream, was the result as mind numbing pleasure sparked between your thighs with each harsh thrust. You clenched tighter around Matt, spurring his frantic thrusts on until he was pounding into you at a pace close to brutal, the obscene squelch of his cock diving into your soaked cunt echoing around you like an unholy melody, the chorus being your screams.

Matt leaned over you, panting roughly. You could smell the sweet scent of musk and sex in the air and see the way his pink mouth parted with each heavy breath against your throat. He lowered his head to drag along your cheek until his lips were pressed against your ear.

"Come for me, sweetheart," he groaned. "I can feel you, you're almost there." And you were for the second time that night, you could feel the cloud of your orgasm hovering right above you, pushed closer and closer by each brutal stroke of his cock inside of you.

"Come on, honey, come on my cock," Matt ordered, and you whined. "You're taking my cock so well, all you have to do is come for me. Be my good little girl and come all over my fucking cock."

That was all you needed. Your back arched off the altar, your hands shot out to grab desperately at Matt, your eyes squeezed shut, and your head was thrown back in absolute bliss. This time, orgasm rolled over you slower than the first time but even more intense. It scorched its way through every nerve ending in your body, consuming you like a blanket of fiery heat, making your vision go white. Distantly, you heard yourself scream—actually scream—as you descended into a blank state of pure, utter pleasure.

You could feel Matt's pace growing sloppy and frantic, short, desperate thrusts as he panted and groaned louder and louder until his hips stuttered against yours, and the most beautiful moan you had ever heard left his lips. He emptied himself into you, and you felt his hot seed spilling deep inside of your cunt even as Matt continued to grind into your tightness until every last drop of his spent was buried inside of you. He slumped over your body on the altar, both of your chests heaving in sync as you came down from your highs together.

Finally, Matt lifted his head from your chest and peered at you with his lovely dark eyes. "Are you okay?" he asked uncertainly. "Was that too much?"

You cradled his face in your hands, marveling how this wonderful, wonderful man was yours. "It was perfect," you promised, kissing him sweetly. "It's never too much. I love you, Matt."

"Hmm," he hummed contently into your mouth. "I love you so much, sweetheart. You're sure you're okay?"

"Oh I am absolutely glowing, Matthew. If I had known this is what you meant when you said you wanted me to come to church with you, I would've came ages ago."

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AN: It's been a hot second since I've written full blown smut, so forgive me if it's kinda rusty. Although I feel like I should be asking forgiveness for this whole fic soooo 🤷‍♀️ I wanna say I need to go to church after writing this, but the last time I was in church, I came up with the most unholy smut fic idea ever, so maybe not a good idea (maybe it'll inspire another one though)

If you enjoyed, please remember to like, comment, and reblog! 🖤

My Matt Murdock Masterlist

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bonny-kookoo · 7 months

Text

Jungkook

ℍ𝕠𝕨 𝕋𝕠: Notice

Jungkook knows the effect he has on people. So why won't you look at him the same?

Main Tags/Warnings: Model!Jungkook, Actor!Jungkook, Stylist!Reader, strangers/enemies to lovers, mentions of toxic beauty standards

Length: ~4k words

There is no taglist for this fic.

-> Masterlist

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Jeon Jungkook.

He's not really what you see every day visually in the modeling industry, and from what you've heard, he's also quite the charmer. Clearly he has to have something going on if his constantly changing partners are anything to go by- one google search of his name giving you several articles about different names he's allegedly participating in the sensual bedroom tango with. Not that you're surprised- most male models tend to make use of their name in order to get what they desire.

Kill or be killed- you can't really blame anybody for using what they have.

"Did you know he apparently has a yacht?" Lea wonders, eating her sandwich your brought her this morning, as she sits on a table close to you. "I've never even been on a fucking yacht before. Apparently those things are like, 500 thousand coins! Imagine!" She sighs, making you laugh along with her. "I can't believe someone just spends that much money on a boat of all things." She mumbles, trying not to get her new acrylics dirty with the sauce.

"Maybe once you have too much, you just don't care?" Haru wonders, setting up his camera equipment close by. "I've heard that money loses it's worth to those who have a lot of it." He offers, shrugging his shoulders as he adjusts some cables.

"I mean, probably." Lea agrees. "With all the brand deals he has, he's got to have his bank account packed with doubloons." She huffs. "Can't he spare us a million each? He won't miss it, I'm sure.." She whines, finishing her breakfast while you shake your head, laughing.

You're all joking around, but at the end of the day, you'll all probably stay where you are financially and career wise until the end of your days. And you yourself are fine with that- you've accepted the fact that the life Jeon Jungkook for example is living isn't something you yourself would want. That man get's snapped by paparazzi almost daily, he's got no privacy from what you can tell, and he can't even say his opinion without being destroyed for it.

No thank you, you rather stay a nobody than have your entire life displayed for the world to judge.

"What's the concept anyways?" You mumble, looking at Lea who shrugs.

"They said he wants to play director today." She jokes. "So I brought a little of everything, really. We'll see what he wants to do."

You frown. You don't like being so unable to prepare anything- to be put on the spot like that. What if he wants something from you you can't pull off? You don't want to be shit-talked by someone with a name as big as his- that would be absolute career-ending for sure, and you can't have that. You've got nothing else than this.

"I heard he's kinda difficult." Lea sighs, picking up her coffee. "They always only look nice.." She huffs disappointed, before she takes a sip.

You just stay quiet. It's all the same anyways.

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Jeon Jungkook is, indeed, difficult.

Not only is he way too tall for you, but he also moves around constantly, talks over your head as if you're not there, and most of all seems to love making fun of you for no apparent reason other than to piss you off. You're not sure why exactly it has to be you- but it seems like he's chosen his victim, and he won't let go anytime soon.

Just do your job, you tell yourself.

His jokes about your height honestly suck, but no one's brave enough to say it, clearly. Everyone laughs at them and praises his good looks and professionalism while you're just trying to get through this whole ordeal. "A bit tired, huh?" The model looks up at you as he sits on the chair provided, your hands fixing his hair in place just the way he wanted it to. You're glad he's sitting. You hate when he's standing upright, not even trying to bend down a little to offer some help. "And not much of a talker." He chuckles, boldly letting his eyes roam over your face and body while you work.

If he's as observant as he wants to make himself to be, then he won't be too surprised if you don't answer now, either.

And he isn't- he just laughs softly to himself, nothing more than that, and you honestly don't want to know what he's thinking. He's probably judging your no-name branded clothes, ripped tights from having gotten your keys caught on them earlier, and your clear lack of makeup.

You're not the model here, so why bother?

You leave him quickly after finishing up, letting Haru and the others guide the model on where to look and how to pose- though honestly, Jungkook seems rather shit at following directions, always doing somewhat of what he wants instead of what's being suggested.

Why even bring a director when you're gonna do what you want anyways?

"I hate how good he looks." lea hisses at you from where she's standing right next to where you are. "He's so mean! Like, childish-mean!" She whines towards you, and you can't help but snort to yourself because that's hitting the nail on the head for you.

He does act like a spoiled child rather than an adult man on the road towards his thirties.

"Jungkook-ssi, please look at the camera!" One of the directors ask, and only now do you notice that the model looked your way- probably having heard you laugh. Does he think you were laughing about him? Hopefully not, even if it's somewhat true.

You can't have him yap about you to other magazines or whatnot.

So you instantly wipe that smile off your face and go back towards professionalism, and at that, he alerts his gaze as well, going back to what he's been hired to do.

"Do you think there's guys out there who look like him but are nice too?" Lea wonders now that you've both walked a bit morenout of hearing range, avoiding his radar as you hide amongst the other staff and equipment. "Like, I want a hot dude with piercings and tattoos too. But with the old-guy gentleman flavor, you know?" She dreams, stealing a snack from you.

"Dont think so." You huff out, stretching your arms high up to arch your back and legs, even going onto tip-toes as your muscles release all the tension you've been accumulating already. You sigh out in bliss after finishing, your body seemingly reset-

A smirking Jungkook walking right past you, probably having seen you throughout the entire ordeal.

What's that stupid half-smile for, though?

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You shrug. "He looks the same in every photo to me." You tell Haru, who looks at you a bit lost.

He sighs as he clicks through the photos himself, unsure. You know he knows you're right- but at the end of the day, people like those sultry eyes and that cocky expression that man makes in every picture. You're not sure what exactly makes it so appealing- but you're just here to make him look as good as possible. And his hair looks perfect in almost every shot- so that's good enough for you.

That's your job. Nothing more, nothing less.

"It's his signature look." Haru tries to justify, his soft voice unsure, however, as if he needs to tell it mostly to himself to be convinced of it. He's never been a fan of shootings like these- he's good at them, sure, but he doesn't enjoy shooting those pictures. He's too soft to say it, but you know he finds them boring and uninteresting. It's basics, nothing exciting, nothing new. But he's being paid for this- so he doesn't complain.

That's his job- nothing more, nothing less.

"Well, then his signature look is boring." You say, leaning back against the table behind you, sipping your can of sugary caffeinated soda- the energy drink by now the only thing keeping you somewhat concentrated. Hopefully Jungkook stops complaining so much so you can all go home soon- he's got the whole week anyways, so why is he so whiny?

Brat. It's only the first day and he's already getting on your nerves- acting like someone pissed in his breakfast, rolling his eyes and staring people down just for the fun of it. And women actually fuck that guy? Nepotism must be crazy.

He probably has sex in front of a mirror just to watch himself.

"Boring, huh." Jungkook's voice chimes up, and you spot him walking closer, now wearing a new set of clothes. The leather pants look awfully tight, especially in his private region- that can't be comfortable, can it?

You frown at him. He got his hair all chaotic again- but it's fine. It fits the theme. You won't retouch it for now.

"She didn't mean it like that-" Haru instantly tries to defend you, the young man intimidated by the model as always. You wonder how he can even operate the camera when he constantly shies away from him so much. Maybe when he looks at him through the lens he can detach the person from the picture? It would make sense. After all, you do the same.

You don't see Jungkook. You see Jeon Jungkook, brand ambassador and model- and it should stay that way.

"I did." You disagree with him, however, before you look back at Jungkook. You don't need to be protected- not for your own opinion. It doesn't have any weight anyway, you doubt that someone like you can hurt this man's ego either. It's at least as big as himself, if not taller, which is a lot, considering that he towers over you despite not even reaching the standard 1.80m height usually desired. Then again, there's quite a few things you could count as not being the standard of beauty. But he makes up for it in confidence- even if he seems to have a little too much of it for your taste. "I did mean it like that."

"What am I supposed to do instead then?" Jungkook challenges, crossing his arms next to you.

The hell were you supposed to tell him? You're neither a model, nor very fashionable. He should ask Lea about that, not you. He's trying to argue for no good reason, and that attitude is starting to piss you off.

"Nothing. It's good like that." You shrug, keeping your cool for now at least visually.

"You said it's boring." He bites back almost immediately. Your distaste grows.

"I did, because to me, it is." You respond calmly. Is he trying to pick a fight with you right now? He really is acting like a child beneath all that fake politeness and forced friendly tone he puts on. "But that's my personal opinion. I'm sure people will like those pictures despite that." You explain.

He plays around with his piercings, and gives you that odd look that you can't distinguish from hatred or being offended.

Unbeknownst to you, he's been trying to figure you out for the entire shoot- wondering what you're really like. Do you like softer guys like Haru more? You seem to have some edge to you, if the glimpse of your bellybutton piercing and the few lines of a tattoo poking out the waistband of your pants would be anything to go by. Maybe you're just someone who likes to be in charge.

He can't offer that, at least not sexually.

He's opening his mouth to say something, before he moves when the director claps, and tells everyone to get back to their respective spots-

Jungkook sitting in front of the camera once more, woth the same signature look, because that is his job.

Nothing more, nothing less.

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If it wasn't for Lea and Haru, you wouldn't even be here.

Sitting in a restaurant, special VIP part that's secluded for the rest of the people here, eating together with stupid Jeon Jungkook, who's busy crawling up your boss's ass. He's sitting right next to you too, which is just as ridiculous- it makes it impossible to have a proper conversation with either of your friends. So you just eat, casually, mostly whatever Lea puts on your plate for you.

You really hate social settings like this. You don't like being reminded that you can't even hold a proper conversation for longer than two sentences.

The moment he puts a piece of meat on your plate instead of Lea, your chopsticks stutter. You don't like this. He just tries to appear friendly- probably because everyone else is watching. You know how this goes, after all, you've been through shit like this before. He'll lure you in, be all nice and sweet, use you as his dirty little secret before he leaves you behind for someone that looks better at his side. Someone of his own profession, most likely- or maybe a singer, or an actress. Someone pretty, tall and famous, someone useful for his career. Someone beneficial.

Someone that's not you.

"You're really not much of a talker, hm?" He asks, sitting next to you with his head on his hand, elbow perched up on the table. He honestly looks a little tired without all the makeup Lea had put on for the shoot today- eyes a bit dull, darkness underneath them shadowing the glimmer they had during work today quite a bit. His skin is also not really as clear as it looked in the pictures taken. He's got a few beauty marks, a noticeable little scar, and some redness around his nose.

He looks like a person from this angle. Not like a model.

"…what am I supposed to say." You shrug, eating what he's offered, because why not? He hums a reply, everyone else at the table conversing with one another, Lea currently seemingly in a heated debate about the height of heels with another staff member across the table.

"Why do you work this job when you hate models so much?" Jungkook asks, catching you off guard as you look at him again. "Or is it just me that's your issue?" He challenges, and you sigh, shaking your head before you occupy yourself with your food once more.

"Was my work okay?" You ask him instead, not looking at him but rather his hands, because you can't stand those eyes he has.

"More than okay- it was just what I wanted." He replies a bit caught off guard, and you shrug.

"Then there's nothing to talk about." You simply reply. Because that's the way you need to keep things, that's how you'll protect yourself and have been for the last few years. You're there to work, not make friends, and especially nothing more than that.

"Oh I think there is." Jungkook chuckles next to you. "I heard you and Kim Yongsun had something going on a few years back when he was shooting for Dazed." He says, and suddenly, you put your chopsticks down, even Lea looing over at you, an expression of both anger and worry on her face. You get up and leave with a respectful bow to your seniors, leaving the restaurant and Jeon Jungkook behind, who's looking at Lea next to him as if to ask what's suddenly wrong with you-

but even she shakes her head, turning back towards Haru next to her, no longer interested in talking to him.

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Kim Yongsun is, at the moment, a very successful actor. Having starred as a leading role in several dramas, he's right now shooting for a full length movie, though the news aren't really as interested in his career-

but more so in his love life, and the baby on the way.

Articles about this perfect and untainted lovestory are all over the place whenever you search up his name- this picture-perfect dream he's created about how he only ever loved his now wife Jane, how he's never looked at anyone before.

Such a liar, but then again- he's an actor, and that's what he's pretty talented at.

Having all of those memories revived made you nauseous yesterday, and it also made you dread coming to work today. But this is your job, nothing more, nothing less.

"There's my pretty bestie!" Lea instantly hugs you the next morning, swaying you around a little childishly, pressing her cheek against yours. With her tall body and a few years above your age, she feels like an older sister that you can trust, years of working together having glued your souls to one another it feels like. "Did you get home safe yesterday?" She wonders, and you nod.

"Went to bed right away." You explain, getting out your breakfast, another one for her as well. She tends to get up late, so you always buy her something on the way- otherwise she would constantly forget to eat.

"I'm gonna have to try so hard not to poke an eye out of that guy today.." The makeup artist growls, pouting as she picks up her sandwich.

"It's natural that he knows though.." Haru softly buts in. "It's not really his fault?" He attempts to justify.

"Yeah maybe, but ever heard of being tactful? I don't tell everyone that you had a crush on Alice either even though that was hella' weird." She bites back, causing Haru's cheeks to flush red. Though she's right- even if Jungkook knows about it, there was no reason to bring that up, especially if he knows the full story of it all. Is he really that mean?

Could be. After all, he's not been exactly kind up until now.

The moment he enters the workplace, he seems almost surprised to see you there as well- greeting everyone on set with a nod. He's here early this time, and you're not sure why he'd do that. He's got almost two more hours until you're supposed to be shooting- so why is he here already?

"I'll protect you." Lea threatens, suddenly pulling you close to sit you on her lap, glaring at Jungkook.

"Lea!" You hiss at her, worried she might get into trouble. She can be a little too 'out there' for her own good- and someone like that guy is not one to mess with. One bad article about your company, and she'll be blacklisted from ever working in the industry ever again.

It's how it works, beneath the surface. Most agencies don't want staff that are not loyal dogs.

"Good morning." Jungkook offers, walking closer with a slight saunter you've come to realize he has almost all the time he walks around. "Can I talk to you for a second?" He asks, and Lea buts in before you can say anything at all.

"No, I'm sorry, Jungkook-ssi." She snarls almost. "We have to start working soon. Please talk to the directors if you have any questions." She says, making Jungkook eye her a little, before he sighs.

"Alright, then I'll do it like this instead." He tilts his head a bit irritated, crossing his arms in front of him. "I'm sorry for speaking out of line yesterday. I didn't mean to upset you." He offers. Lea scoffs.

"Well, you still did." She mumbles, and it seems like now the beast shows it's real face as he looks at her.

"I don't think I've talked to you at all yesterday, so I'm not sure why you're barking right now." He challenges, making the makeup artist visibly surprised at the way he addresses her. "I believe she's old enough to talk for herself." The model argues, and you can practically feel Lea's rage beginning to buzz inside of her, and to avoid any sort of crime soon about to happen, you stand up, and push at Jungkook's shoulder to lead him towards the restroom area where you're a bit more secluded.

"I don't care about your apology." You tell him right away. "Neither do I care if you're truly sorry or just trying to appear that way. We're both here to work, and that's it." You say, while he stands in front of you listening with his hands in the pockets of his jeans. "Please do not invite me to anything you might want to do for the staff. I'm not interested." You finish your small rant.

"I always wondered what really went down, you know?" Jungkook says. "With you and Yongsun, I mean. He said that you hooked up with him, but honestly, looking at you, I can hardly believe that. No offense-" He waves off any potential anger you might have over the hidden message in that sentence. "-but you don't look like someone who fucks around." He shrugs.

"What do I look like then?" You challenge, now your arms crossed in defense. You don't like this situation in general. You just want him to leave you alone.

"I'm not sure." He admits. "But just between us-" He leans in a bit closer. "Yongsun is a cunt anyways. He drinks straight up coffee creamer- I mean, who the fuck does that?" he says, and at that, you actually have to laugh.

You remember that, years back.

"Listen-" Jungkook sighs. "-I know you probably have trust issues now, I'd have them too if I had to be with someone like that-" He tries to joke, "-but let's try and at least be civil with one another, okay?" He offers.

"You talk as if I was the one constantly picking fights." You bite back, a little annoyed again at the prospect of him victimizing himself right now.

"Yeah- it's a bad habit, sorry." He rubs the back of his neck. "I try and make jokes whenever I get awkward- and they don't land sometimes."

"You mean most of the time." you say, and he presses his lips together.

"Touché." He clicks his tongue, before he sways a bit on his feet. "Anyways, let's work well together, alright?" He offers his hand, and you shake it-

though you feel like this could be a terrible mistake.

#bts imagine #bts fanfic #bts fic #jungkook imagine #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook imagine #bts jungkook imagine #jungkook x reader #bts jungkook fanfic #bts jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook fanfic

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melodic-haze · 20 days

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☆ — DEMO TRACK: bottom!Robin (HSR) x top!Reader

☆ — GENRE: NSFW

☆ — CONTENT WARNINGS: Semi-public sex (it's in a venue green room), reader has a cock/strap

Can't believe that my first post is Robin thirst (I say that when my acc theme is literally her 💀) but I REALLY can't stop thinking about fucking her in her private dressing room LOL

Like imagine she calls you in or smth as a form of "distraction" from "pre-performance jitters" with both of you knowing FULL WELL that she isn't nervous in the least. She's even acting the part: her eyebrows furrowed, a hand lightly tugging on the fabric of your clothes as she's asking you to stay with her

"I don't think I'd be able to get out there and sing without your help." Her eyes look at you as if she were pleading, though you've spent enough time with the singer that you easily spot the tiniest glimmer in that alluring sea of green, "Won't you care to stay a little while longer..?"

Doesn't really take long for it to go from simply talking and hanging out to bending her over on the table. All it took was a squeeze here, a graze there, and suddenly neither of you can keep your hands off each other

Could be that she's laying down on her back, legs spread and on your shoulders as you move your fingers in her to find that sweet spot that has her singing your favourite song made just for you on the fly. Could be that she's facing down as you use her wings as handlebars to keep her upright and she can see herself and her perfect image get absolutely RUINED and railed by none other than you on the mirror and her insides just clench at the sight

Her appearance is absolutely MESSED THE FUCK UP right now (the hair and makeup people are Stressing) but Robin really can't bring herself to care. Not when her brain's gone to who knows where. All that's important right now is chasing that high until she--

You hear a somewhat urgent knock on the door, your efforts stuttering at your moment's intrusion, "Miss Robin? We need to set you up in five."

You don't see or hear your pretty little angel respond, though judging by the dazed-out look on her face it's clear that.. well, it's not as if she's so dazed out that she can't begin to process the current events—it's more like she doesn't want to process it.

Apparently whoever it was didn't take the hint because the staff's voice rang past the door once again, "Miss Robin? Are you there?"

You eventually see her sigh resignedly, her eyebrows furrowed genuinely this time as she cleared her throat and answered awkwardly, putting all her strength into making sure she doesn't sound like some fucked-out mess.

"Yes, I'm fine! I'll be there on time," she let out a seemingly good-natured laugh to sell the charade, though the corners of her mouth twitched the slightest bit.. before she bit her lip as she slowly grinded herself on you. "Though careful there—worry like that and-- mm.. I might think you like me."

You hear the staff member stutter past the door before footsteps begin to scurry away. With the way your lover was just moving, you'd have thought that she wanted to continue.. but she pushes herself off of you and pulls up her panties with a small apologetic smile.

She tells you that as much as she really wanted to continue, she shouldn't. She has a job to do, and being late or skipping on a show just wouldn't do! She promises to finish things with you when she's done, and that promise comes in the form of cleaning her slick off of you and leaving a lingering kiss.. before asking you to help her with getting her appearance back to looking AT LEAST presentable LMAOOOO

It takes you both more than five minutes and the staff are baffled but it's not like you can explain it 😭😭 so have fun with the scrutinising stares 🫶

Robin's got better self-control than me I would've died if I had to perform while bricked the fuck up LOL. But trust me when I say that it's worth it when she gets off the stage and she pounces at you and begs you to finish what you started bc she deserves it as a reward after a hard day of work, right?

#hazy explicits!#hazy demos!#surprise haze!#hsr robin #sub robin #bottom robin #sub honkai star rail #robin x reader #honkai star rail smut #hsr smut #sub hsr #honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #dom reader #top reader #gn reader #honkai star rail women #honkai star rail

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ghouljams · 6 months

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Gaz and birdie ahhhhhhhhh we love to see it good for him good for her I love it love it love it. Are they the couple who invited everyone over for dinner and then surprise this is our wedding? I mean I can’t see any of the boys having a big wedding. But also just Gaz holding Bug while they’re signing papers and all that?????? My fucking heart.

They are!! They have a small surprise wedding. I think people forget Gaz is as much an agent of chaos as Soap is. So when Birdie suggests they invite everyone over and just spring the wedding on them he's 100% on board. Besides a big wedding doesn't suit either of them, but they also want a little more than just going to the courthouse. I'm gonna write a little bit of both their weddings, because they're both important.

It must be a slow day at the courthouse because you barely have time to sit down before your name is called. Kyle bounces Bug on his hip, keeping the baby entertained while you sort through your documents. It's been a little tricky figuring out the whole dual citizenship thing for the both of you, but hopefully worth it in the end. This isn't the most romantic thing in the world, it sort of makes you rethink your stance on weddings. You glance at Kyle, the way he grins while he talks to your child, you suppose you'd be here eventually anyway.

Kyle grabs your hand when you stand to make sure you're truly alright with just this, and you nod. Reassure him you are. You're not sure if he believes you, but he doesn't have time to ask. You're both taken back into a notary's office, and they drone about legality and consent, while you and Kyle check boxes. It's quick, both of you signing your name on the paper then watching the notary do the same.

"Alright if you go through those doors the judge will finish up," The notary directs. You nod and turn to go, but Kyle grabs your hand.

"You think we could do a two-fer?" He asks. The notary gives him a once over, not amused by his wasting time. Gaz tugs a bundle of papers from his back pocket and sets them on the desk. You see Bug's name neatly penned in at the top and blink up at Gaz. "I'm adopting too, may as well squeeze it in right?" He smiles at you.

"You're adopting your wife's child?" The notary raises her brows, looks over the rim of her glasses at you, "Seems like news to her."

You quickly school the surprise on your face, feeling your smile overtake it. Gaz seems to falter a little, unsure even in the face of your growing excitement.

"I know we haven't really talked about it, but-"

"No," You stop him, and fan your face with your hand to try and stop the happy tears forming on your lash line, "I didn't think you wanted-"

"Didn't think I-" Gaz balks, and pokes Bug's tummy, "This is my kid! Of course I want- Watch." He boosts Bug up a little higher, holds them with both hands to properly look in their face. "Dada, Bug, tell your mum."

Bug reaches out with grabbing hands, gurgling excitedly as Kyle tries not to laugh at them. You know Bug's been making sounds around the house, doing their best with words, but you can't believe Kyle's been coaching them. Well, maybe you can. You feel your whole face scrunch with your smile hearing the babbling "da da da" from your child. Kyle lights up, and turns them back to you proudly. You hear the click of the notary's stamp behind you.

"Sign here please," She tells you, with a sort of bored fondness.

Standing in front of the judge holding Kyle's hand you change your mind. You think this is perfect. Even if you were having a big wedding you'd end up here, the only difference would be a white dress. You'd still kiss your new husband, and you'd still be surprised when he tells you,

"You know, I had an idea for our wedding."

"I'm so happy you all could make it to this engagement party," You tell your guests. There's only about 15 people, but they all smile warmly at you. "Unfortunately there has been a slight miscommunication," a murmur goes through the crowd, "because this is actually our wedding."

To say chaos ensues is an understatement. Kyle tugs you out of the way of the excited guests, and settles a hand on your stomach. He's been doing that a lot since you told him you were pregnant. He gives you a quick kiss on your forehead before Goose is dragging you off to get changed.

"The caterers are gonna be here in an hour," He yells over the noise, "My mum's passin' out envelopes with your role, so quit panickin' and do what she says."

Your wedding is chaotic and spontaneous. Your guests set up tables and chairs, and put out decorations while your best friend does your hair and makeup. Your mother is thrilled and appalled in equal measure at the fact she was given no prior notice. No one has gifts, and at least three people are in jeans. It's perfectly imperfect in every way that counts. It's yours.

When you walk down the makeshift aisle towards the man that's already your husband in every way that counts, you don't think you ever could have asked for anything better.

#cod x reader #x reader #cod x oc #x oc #kyle garrick mw2 #kyle garrick x oc #kyle garrick x reader #kyle garrick #kyle gaz garrick #gaz x reader #gaz mw2 #gaz x oc #oc: birdie #oc: bug #I guess!!!#Jamie “Bug” Garrick once all the papers go through #Birdie and Gaz power couple forreal #they're so good together

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nyoomiin · 1 month

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roommates: part four.

your new roommate is... odd, and recently, so are your dreams. still, despite the secrecy, the mystery, and his ice cold exterior, you have the feeling you'd waltz right into love with him. (maybe you already have before.)

pairing. scaramouche x gn!reader

tags. no warnings, slice of life, fluff, slowburn, friends to lovers, reincarnation au, post irminsul erasure

prev. masterlist. next.

Your roommate had changed.

It was a change so minute that you had barely noticed, yet it was there. It was in the way he looked at you, you think. In the way he no longer avoided your eye, and in the way he’d respond to your smile. Well, honestly, he always had that little frown on his face, and his words were always sharp, but still, it was a start.

This was… certainly an interesting development.

See, when you had posted that commission in search of someone who'd loan you some aid, you did not expect that person to be the Traveller. As in the guy who’s taken Teyvat by storm, solving crisis over crisis from nation to nation. As in the guy who's got a title in just about every nation he's visited. That guy.

“Thank you for accepting my commission!” you tell him brightly, because what else were you supposed to say? At the very least, you were sure the job would be well done. “I'll make sure the compensation is worth your while.”

Paimon brightens immediately. “What do you need us for?”

You hand the Traveller the list of fabrics and other materials you need. “Could you get me everything on the list? These aren't the materials I usually buy, so I have no idea which ones are of good quality. Or even how or where to get them.”

“All these are… Inazuman?” Paimon says, curious. “What do you need them for?”

You nod, grinning. “My roommate's from Inazuma — well, he looks like he does… I wanted to make a traditional set of Inazuman clothes for him.”

It would match the shawl you had made for him perfectly. He'd look angelic, you muse, dressed in white and blue.

You'd pay to see the sight, really. You hadn't spent all that time designing and researching and sewing just to see his pretty face be wasted on those boring ass clothes he had on. Seriously, was that the only set of clothes he had or what?

“That's so sweet!” she gushes.

The Traveller pockets the list. “I'll be back by the end of today.”

“Damn, that's really quick. Thank you!”

You have to tell Alhaitham about this.

“He was so pretty, I swear, why aren’t isn't there anyone talking about how insanely gorgeous the Traveller is?”

Both his hair and eyes were of shimmering gold, not to mention his lean build and rosy skin… You hadn't registered it then, with the legendary Traveller in front of your very eyes, but thinking back on the encounter… damn. You want to make something for him too. Or maybe a little cape and dress for Paimon?

Alhaitham sighs. “Please, try not to get too far ahead of yourself.”

“Easy for you to say. Hmph.” You cross your arms in faux anger, turning your nose up at him. “I can't believe you didn't tell me the Traveller looked like that.”

“You seem quite taken with the Traveller. Does this indicate that you have finally gotten over your infatuation with your roommate?”

You squawk, gasping in indignation and utter betrayal. “Never! Do you think so little of me?”

… He just stares.

“And I don't have a crush on him,” you finish, protesting weakly. “He just seems interesting.”

Even you find it hard to believe yourself.

(He's walking down the streets when a particular store catches his eye.

Little trinkets are laid out on the tables, from keychains to bracelets and the like — but it's the wood carvings that he narrows in on. They're tiny, no bigger than the palm of his hand, and no heavier than a small stone. He picks up the carving of a bunny, inspecting it.

You had always liked bunnies, he remembers. Especially the ones white as snow, and the ones black as night. He wonders if you like them still.

“Would you like that one? It's a thousand and three hundred mora,” the shopkeeper says. “Very cheap for a handmade carving.”

He pauses. Just what was he doing?

Nothing good would come out of being involved with you yet again, that he knew. No, nothing good ever came out of associating with mortals in general — and that had been a harsh lesson learnt.

… But ‘Scaramouche’ was no more, and gone was everything that had happened with him too. He was, by right, no one at all.

Him interacting with you — a human who had never known ‘Scaramouche’, a stranger of a person he had simply come to share an apartment with — surely that was alright?

Oh how far has he fallen, to be bargaining with himself like this. He tosses a bag full of mora onto the counter.

“Keep the change.”)

taglist. (send an ask to be added.)

@franaby @dragontammerz @ainnofinway @sketcheeee @briluvspnk @bunniicantsleep @featuredtofu @tragedy-of-commons @parkjayssi @xiaosantenna @idontevenknow129

#—stellaronhvnters.#scaramouche x reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact #genshin #i swear they become friends next chapter #NGL THIS IS PROGRESSING SLOWER THAN I THOUGHT CUZ THEY WERE SUPPOSED TO BE FRIENDS A CHAPTER AGO 👹👹👹😭😭😭

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 8 months

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Carpe Noctem 15

Warnings: dark elements, noncon, age gap, gaslighting, manipulation, other dark elements. Proceed with caution. (short!reader)

Note: Please let me know what you think as it helps me a lot with ideas and I love interacting with you all.

Part of The Club AU

Your alarm wakes you at the usual time. You're still achy but functioning. At first, you're disoriented, still unused to your new, albeit, temporary home. You rub your hips and stand, groaning as you find the muscles in your back looser than usual.

You sift through the bag of clothes Lloyd got for you and pull on the thin blue robe with white lilies. The hallway is silent as you listen through the door, unsure what to do next. You need to start your day, you can't miss any more work.

You emerge quietly and tiptoe downstairs. You make your way to the kitchen, its high ceiling making it feel even larger. You near the silver coffee machine on the sleek white counter and examine the many buttons

You find a bag of coffee in the cupboards and measure out the overpriced grinds. You'll have to do some shopping on your way home, you'd hate to take what isn't yours. It won't hurt to keep a list of what you owe.

You set the machine to grind and leave it. The coffee will be enough to get you out the door. You go back upstairs and find an outfit to wear to work; a pair of burgundy capris and a fluttery sleeved tee shirt with a watermelon print.

You take your time in the bathroom cleaning up. The odds and ends Lloyd gathered for you don't really help much, you at least have a tooth brush and your comb. You finish up and wonder if you might not be able to barter a few more things from Johnny. Just the thought of seeing him makes you nervous. Maybe not, probably best to just start over.

You still can't believe it's over. There's a gnawing in your chest that says it doesn't have to be. That sore spot in your cheek quickly chases it away. No, he hit you. You always said you wouldn't stay with any man who would do that.

You return to the kitchen, the aroma of coffee luring you back. Lloyd surprises you as he stands at the counter, pouring a cup as a satin robe hangs from his shoulders. He turns and you gasp at the open front. He's shamelessly half-hard as he faces you and takes a deep gulp.

"Uh, morning," you keep your eyes on his face.

"Mmm, good coffee," he grits through his dry throat.

"Good to hear," you chime and cross to the counter, taking down a mug of your own and filling it. "I'll buy you more to make up for what I used--"

"Don't bother," he grumbles as he rubs his eye socket, "we have our arrangement."

You hesitate and wet your mouth with a taste of the coffee. You look across the kitchen rather than at him. You swallow, "is that... I don't know if--"

"Look around, hot stuff, I don't need money or an extra bag off coffee," he scoffs, "and what I want, you can give me."

"Mm," you clamp your lips together, "well, I'm just going to finish this and go to work," you lift your mug, "I'll have to figure out how long the commute is so I can get back into it."

"Right. So responsible," he sneers, "I somehow respect it and despise it."

You look at him as he turns to you. His robe ripples as you see him bobbing at the bottom of your vision. You put your mug down and grab his robe, closing it and tying the belt snugly.

"Chilly in here," you say.

"Really?" He arches a brow.

"Like I said, work."

"What time?"

"Should be there for eight--"

"No, what time are you getting back?"

"I... probably five or--"

"Right, you walk in and I want you naked before you get to your room."

"Hmm?" You blanch.

"I'm gonna be carrying around these blue balls all day waiting so don't fuck around," he points at you, "now say 'thank you.'"

"Thank you? For?"

"For not bending you over right now," he says as if it's obvious, "I'm not a patient man, but damn if the pussy isn't worth the wait."

You squint and step back, picking your cup up again, "do you always have to be so... crass?"

"Well, honey cunt, that's who I am. The double L is for Long and loud. I'm sure you can confirm the veracity of that," he winks.

You have to keep from letting out a disgusted noise, instead draining half your cup. You are entirely unprepared for any of this, most of all him. Somehow, you know the day isn't going to go any faster knowing he's waiting on you to get back.

🍑

The normalcy of work welcomes you back. The little problems of the kids and the demands of finicky parents at drop-off keeps you on your toes. It's almost enough to make you forget all the turmoil of your after hours existence.

You sit with the kids for pick up and see them off one by one. Carol helps tidy up the play area as you go through the closing list. Naptime and the end of the day are the only quiet moments you get in this place.

You say goodbye to your coworkers and break off from Nina as you go to your own car. You throw your bagbin the passenger's seat and start the engine, reversing out and slowly pulling onto the street. You steer out onto the adjoining avenue but have to keep from taking your usual route.

You grab your phone and look at your trip to work and hit reverse. You still need the extra help finding your way. You ignore the notifications from the unknown number in your inbox. Not hard to guess who.

You turn onto the next street and hear a woop as a siren flashes red in your rearview. Shit.

You pull over and stare in the side mirror. You know it's him before he even steps out. Fuck, fuck, fuck. What do you do? You see a few parents walking with wagons and kids on foot… witnesses.

You hit your messages and cringe at the sight that pop up with the first chat. Lloyd's recognizable even with his head out of frame. Alright, that's the last thing you're thinking of.

You hit the little phone icon in the corner and let it dial as you lock the screen. You drop it on the seat and roll down your window as Johnny approaches. You reach over to find your insurance and license.

"You know why I pulled you over?" He bends to sneer above the window.

"N-no, officer," you murmur and hold out your license.

He wraps his hand around yours and squeezes until you whimper. You try to pull away but he clings to you, "this isn't fucking over."

You gulp, fighting to wriggle free. He's too strong. You whine, "please, Johnny–"

"That's Officer Storm," he snarls as he lets you go, "saw you on your phone. That's a fine." He checks out your license and insurance, "let me run this."

"You know you don't have to do that–"

"Shut the fuck up," he barks and puts his hand on the handle of his nightstick, "don't start resisting. That's obstruction."

You snap your mouth shut and sit back, "okay, sir."

You lower your head as he struts away with a laugh. You cautiously tilt your phone a light up the screen, you see the call time ticking. You hope Lloyd is listening, and if he is, you pray he'll do something.

#lloyd hansen #dark lloyd hansen #dark!lloyd hansen #lloyd hansen x reader #drabble #series #au #the club #carpe noctem #the gray man

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thrilling-oneway · 10 months

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Let’s talk about Shiraishi An can I talk to you about Shiraishi An? I want to talk about Shiraishi An.

I want to talk about An because her character arc is genuinely amazing. It completely subverts how she’s set up in the main story. An is set up as someone who (almost) has it all. She has a great relationship with her family, she’s talented and never had to work for it, her father is a renowned musician so she’s had so many opportunities and connections that people wouldn’t normally have. The only thing she didn’t have was a partner. So the story gives her one, and then slowly starts to chip away at everything else.

We’re introduced to her “aunt and uncle”, who are also renowned musicians, and helped to coach her as a kid. However now her uncle Taiga wants to train her partner. She’s always looked up to RADder, particularly Nagi, she’s always wanted to be trained by them and follow in their footsteps, and Taiga picked her partner. Her partner with far more natural talent, more potential. An who had always been gifted and on an easy path to doing what she loved, got surpassed like it was nothing.

We also learn at this point that her aunt Nagi, whom she loves dearly and is her main inspiration, left the country three years ago and hasn't spoken to her since. An still loves her and looks up to her of course, but it's annoying that she left without saying goodbye.

She gets punched in the gut again when Kohane gets a solo gig. Kohane's talent surpasses hers to the point that Nagi's legacy, the one An was meant to carry, the one An had worked for, is now in the hands of Kohane. Her partner that loves and supports but she can't help but feel insecure. Kohane who has only a few months worth of experience has worked up enough skill to be on the same level as a renowned musician. An worked her whole life to get there, and was beaten to the finish line by someone she had a lifetime's headstart on. What if Kohane becomes too good for her? What if Kohane leaves? She searched so long for a partner, one that she could trust and grow to love, and losing that would crush her. It scares her.

And it turns out that legacy that she lost was all she had left. And now it's gone. Nagi didn't leave the country without saying goodbye. Nagi is just gone. She's dead and she never told An. An never had that chance to talk to her again, never got to say goodbye, never got to introduce her aunt, her childhood idol, to Kohane and her other friends. Her father, her uncle, the entire community, everyone kept it a secret from her. She trusted them and they lied. Even if it's what Nagi wanted, even if it was for her own good, they lied. It's like everything has been taken from her, someone who had it so easy.

To make it even worse, her uncle crushes everyone's dreams out of his own anger and grief. His sister never wanted that, Nagi wanted there to be a new generation who would continue the legacy that RADder left behind. But Taiga won't let them get there because he doesn't want to let Nagi go either. Even if An won't be the next Nagi, there was a chance for her to still uphold everything that she lived for and believed in but all she got was the brutal revelation that her aunt has been gone for years and that her uncle won't let her get close to the light Nagi left behind.

An is a character that is struck with the reality that life isn't easy. A life swimming in the shallow end and getting thrown in the deep end and having to keep fighting and keep swimming back towards that light she once saw. I wonder what waits for her in the light.

#shiraishi an #project sekai #rambles #mine #this has been rotating in my brain for days

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misscammiedawn · 4 months

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Dissociative Identity Disorder in Mr. Robot

So I have been writing little essays about Mr. Robot recently.

Dom's Sexuality, Gay Marriage and Whiterose

Back to the Future and Brainwashing

Today I wish to talk about the DID representation in Mr. Robot.

Actually I want to talk about the DID representation in the Hulk comics but there are 40 years worth of storylines involving it and it would require me to write about clinical understandings from the 1980s when it was called MPD (admitedly Mr. Robot's stumbles at the finish line with some of these same outdated treatment models) and that would take a while. Suffice to say it will happen eventually*. I shall make a new tag "Media Myself and I" and post it under that when I have more time to do it justice. Maybe I'll do others. I am uncertain. I believe I want to focus on positive depictions where there are no murder alters. The goal is to get people to want to enjoy things, not to steer them away. I have a few shows and games in mind at the very least.

Regardless… Mr. Robot is an easier topic to cover and is my hyperfocus of the moment.

So Mr. Robot is a show about isolation in the modern world. It's a show about socioeconomic stress, late-stage capitalism and what it means to enact meaningful change on a broken world.

But above all it is about the healing journey of Elliot Alderson, a man with dissociative identity disorder.

I say that at the start because Elliot's condition is never named until the final episode. In many ways a realistic depiction of a real world disorder was an afterthought noted in the final hour of the journey as a means of justifying the split personality trope and hiding a final twist. In spite of that the roadmap for the show was always leading to this destination and along the way they managed to get some fairly good representation out of the mix.

Season 2 even involves the only time I have ever seen a piece of fiction depict "blending" on screen. Blending isn't a symptom listed in either DSM or ICD manuals. It is, however, something one would hear about if they had a conversation with someone who had DID. I have used that scene to depict what it feels like to my partners.

I'm getting ahead of myself.

I love Mr. Robot. It is currently my favorite show of all time. If you have never seen it then please give it a shot. This post will be spoiler heavy and I'd hate to rob anyone the opportunity to watch S4E7 and have a pure emotional reaction to it. The show is on Amazon Prime and the full box set is available for $35-50 depending on format and vendor.

Go with my blessing.

The first season of the show begins with Elliot Alderson (Rami Malek) living a double life. By day a cyber security expert and by night he spends his time at his computer hacking people's accounts and satisfying a "little itch in the back of his head" that guides him to uncover the murky facts about people. The first scene of the show has him take down a cafe owner who hosts an illegal and deeply unpleasant website. I have seen individuals walk away from the first episode thinking that the show is "Dexter but with computers" but it is more lulsec activism with a Fight Club aesthetic.

The show has 4 seasons and each season depicts a different stage of Elliot's healing journey and with it completely different rules and depictions of his condition. I'll break down each season for what they do right and what they do wrong.

Season 1: Discovery

Elliot's system in season one is undiscovered but he has overt symptoms, meaning he is unaware that he has any alters but he suffers from clean breaks in his consciousness and drastically altered behavior patterns both which are a detriment to the "hidden" nature of the condition.

Commonly most people do not discover their condition until their 30s. I was 37/38 when our therapist started guiding us towards accepting our condition.

DID manifests in childhood but it's a hidden illness that does its best to go undetected. The point of the condition is to remain hidden. The internet and the educational resources it offers are helping younger individuals to recognize their symptoms and advocate for themselves at an earlier age but the standard medical understanding is that most people are developed adults before they are diagnosed.

Published statistics for DID indicate the global population of those with the condition is about 1.5% (some organizations argue the number should be higher due to how difficult it is to receive an accurate diagnosis, but 1.5% is the most consistent figure) which is rare but not to the point of never encountering it. For comparison, according to a 2023 census 1.0% of people in the USA identify as transgender. There are no tested classifications for Covert vs Overt display of symptoms but it is widely agreed that an overwhelming majority of cases within the 1.5% are covert.

We learn that Elliot is desperately lonely, abuses morphine and has paranoid delusions about men in black stalking his every move. Whenever Elliot is on screen we can never be sure what is real and what isn't, so there are times when men wearing black suits are on screen and we cannot be sure if Elliot is paranoid or delusional.

The show takes place through his perspective after all and we are a character in the show.

See… the narrative device of the show involves Elliot speaking to "friend", us. The audience. "Hello, friend." is a common refrain spoken throughout the show. The narrative begins a short while after Elliot had a complete mental breakdown and smashed up a server room, he is seeing a court appointed therapist, is socially paralyzed to the point of which we see him linger outside a birthday party and retreat home to cry in loneliness.

The entire first season Mr. Robot is depicted as another character, akin to Tyler Durden, a wild revolutionary who wants to encrypt the data of the world's largest bank in order to seal the debt records and reset everything back to 0. He starts off appearing in scenes involving the men in black stalking Elliot to mingle him in with the paranoid delusions and eventually begins interacting with him in earnest. Though the reveal is treated as a twist 8 episodes into the show Elliot does accuse the audience of knowing the entire time and he refuses to speak to us for some time, even going as far as to keep secrets from us because he cannot trust us any longer.

It's at this point that I will note that media depictions of DID tend to lean heavily on the phrase "it's a visual medium" and depict ways that characters can see, interact with and communicate with alters/parts in a dramatic setting. Off the top of my head Hulk is about the only form of fiction I've seen where the temptation to do this doesn't take over and even then the old "other face in the mirror" trope shows up there.

So for what it's worth the paranoid thinking and hallucinations are not DID symptoms and typically a person with the condition cannot see or hear their alters. In fact a testing criteria included in the MID exam is to rule out schizophrenia by eliminating the possibility that the voices heard are external or that any hallucinations exist. In Mr. Robot they are likely caused by Elliot's morphine addiction, but he gets clean after season 1 and Mr. Robot is always there.

There are some plot elements which I want to talk about but they do spoil the final "twist" of the show. So I want to warn again that anyone in the process of watching should be warned we are getting into entire show spoiler territory.

The Elliot we see in the show is the result of the stress fueled breakdown that Mr. Alderson had 6 months prior to the show starting. The timeline is fuzzy in my head but there were two triggers which set him off and began his condition flaring up (and/or caused him to lean harder into his drug addiction which in turn fueled his condition). The one we know about is that he was locked in a server room and forced to work long into the night on an issue and the already upset and stressed Elliot snapped and had a black-out.

We come to learn that he has had these his whole life but this is the first time such an incident occurred that he couldn't self-justify what had happened. He smashed up a server room, something he felt himself not capable of.

But the second trigger is the more important one.

His sister, Darlene, moved to NYC and started visiting him.

The bigger and better twist of season 1 is that Elliot and Darlene are siblings. This is hidden from Elliot and the audience for the first 7 episodes and her presence is treated much like Marla Singer from Fight Club, of whom she likely contains some inspiration, where she keeps showing up in Elliot's apartment and acting overly familiar with him.

In the earliest episodes when we are learning about Elliot's lonely life he looks at a photograph of himself and his mother at Coney Island. Due to some hallucinations we know that Magda is an abusive mother and screamed at/hit Elliot a lot. We learn more about her in future episodes and she is a truly horrible parent. Likely more than was ever depicted in the show.

The photo is actually of the full Alderson family including Darlene and Edward but is not shown as such until the reveals that Darlene is Elliot's sister and Mr. Robot is modeled after Elliot's father. The photograph is a reference to Back to the Future.

But it also is a fairly good visual representation of self-filtering information, even when it is contradictory in nature. This is common not just in DID but in all forms of CPTSD.

Complex Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder is a condition that develops during prolonged exposure to trauma and makes radical changes to the nervous system. CPTSD is considered a root of DID and it is universal for those diagnosed with DID to have a CPTSD diagnosis also.

One of the ways CPTSD symptoms manifest is "Emotional Avoidance". The nervous system is activated when triggers related to the trauma exist within the person's life. In order to function their brains push away these reminders and naturally avoid interacting with them. This causes those with the condition to become withdrawn, to isolate and to have distorted and often contradicting patterns of thought. For instance Elliot needs connection and safety that he associates with family but his family were his primary abusers and so he edits his memories to focus on positive associations such as a family trip to Coney Island that has become an obsession to him in adulthood. We later learn that Elliot's obsession with movies was born from it being his primary way of connecting with his father... which is fairly relatable.

His positive memories of his parents are held in high regard even though we know that his father "pushed him out of a window" and his mother used to put out cigarette butts on Darlene, tried to force her to commit animal cruelty and is often depicted in hallucinations as beating and screaming at Elliot.

In a case where it is impossible to avoid the traumatic trigger, for instance the return of relative who is a living reminder of his abusive childhood, the individual may begin to dissociate. Dissociation being where a person, overwhelmed by what they are experiencing has a separation from their normal state leading to a disconnect from emotions, sense of self and reality.

Episode 8 in particular contains a visual depiction of it when Elliot is having a quiet meltdown over finding out he has a 2 day deadline and his boss at work has known about the server exploit he installed all along.

(the show often uses the camera in ways to emphasize emotional walls, dissociation and isolation like this. This sequence does so by having hard cuts, shaky cam and frantic pace melt into a gliding slow lull where the background noise filters out and we can share in Elliot's distance from his situation for a moment)

Elliot's form of blocking out is extreme but has half a foot in reality (and half a foot in the logic born from the "twist" ending) in that in order to continue interacting with Darlene he views her as a member of Fsociety and edits out their connection until it is revealed in episode 7.

A small brilliancy about Fsociety is that the entire group is formed around Elliot and Darlene's need for childhood safety. The hacking elements of the show undoubtedly born from 9 year old Elliot spending time at Mr. Robot computer repair with a smile. The anon-mask that the show uses comes from an in-universe movie that Darlene and Elliot watched every Halloween and their base of operations is Coney Island. A place that both siblings seem to associate with safety and happiness...

Which is extra messed up when you factor Season 2's revelation that Darlene was kidnapped while on a family trip to Coney Island.

Darlene's panic attacks, need to feel special and her abusive upbringing are not the topic for this essay, but I wanted to make mention that Magda was such a horrible mother that a 4/5 year old Darlene thinks of being kidnapped from a family trip to Coney Island as one of her most precious childhood memories.

The desire to reach into the past and change things to create an ideal future is a heavy theme of the show and I feel it's important to note that though the Alderson siblings reject Whiterose and her scheme, they are both living in an almost literal fun house distortion of the few unambiguously GOOD childhood memories that they each have and have wrapped them around themselves like a protective blanket.

The plot of season 1 gets a lot more uncomfortable when you realize how much of Fsociety is two traumatized kids recreating positive elements of their childhood and trying to live inside of those memories while lashing out at those who took their father away from them. The entire plan is centered around events from 1995. The show takes place in 2015.

Mr. Robot himself is, of course, the ultimate symbol of that take on events.

Edward Alderson was a monster. He's referred to as such overtly in Elliot's detox fever dream. Everyone asks him who his "monster" is while handing him the key that we learn was to his childhood bedroom. A key that he hid to prevent Edward from entering his room late at night.

Yet throughout the first 3 seasons of the show we are only shown him in context of the positive memories that he and Elliot shared. Elliot was 9 years old when Edward passed away from leukemia.

At a point, Elliot is picked up from school. He has a bruise on his cheek and the scene begins with Edward asking "If I had to guess, you didn't tell Principal Howard your side.", assuring him it's okay to share his side of the story. Because Edward is convincing him to tell his side I am going to assume Elliot got into a fight but it's not impossible to assume that the school pulled Edward in to discuss the signs of physical abuse on the child. Edward would never tell Elliot to tell his side of that story so I assume it was a fight.

It's unclear if Mr. Robot is the one who participated in those fights (we only have 2 confirmed instances of Elliot's alters showing up in childhood. The window incident and the day Edward died) but Edward picks him up and protects him from his mother's wrath and bonds with him during that drive, he reveals his diagnosis to Elliot before inviting him to work with him at the computer repair store. Likely this is what leads to Elliot's hacker skills being born.

A hauntingly similar event in my own life is why I am a photographer.

Given that the majority of Season 1 has Elliot in the dark about his condition we are only given context as to why he is the way he is and see the display of dissociative symptoms which manifest from CPTSD. Mr. Robot existing at all is actually not required for this to be a good depiction of adults who grew up in abusive environments and the way they maladaptively cope.

I also want to give a little praise to the "itch at the back of [Elliot's] head" that shows up when he feels the desire to hack someone or dig deeper and the way he pushes forward with his own will until he calms down enough to let a creeping hesitation overcome him and prevent him from acting.

Passive Influence is part of DID. It's a situation where a "fronting" (that is to say part that is in control at a time) performs an unthinking action or is emotionally swayed by the influence of another part/alter that is not presently conscious. These are one of the biggest ways that the condition flies under the radar for many. When they are close to discovering proof of their condition they will often feel an unconscious push away from it. The phenomenon is fairly easily brushed aside internally as "a gut feeling" or an "impulse" but it's observable under the right conditions.

An instance I can think of in my own life is when our survival part is trying to push people away and our emotional part desperately tries to reach out. I will often find my hand grabbing a person's wrist and clinging tightly to it without even noticing that I've done it.

In the show Elliot is compelled by Mr. Robot when he feels someone is a danger or has a weakness that can be exploited. Part of him knows he needs to do something about it and so he lets himself be guided.

The season ends with The 5/9 Hack succeeding, all the financial data being encrypted and Elliot sent to prison for (minor) hacking charges.

He knows who Mr. Robot is now and he fears him as his enemy.

Season 2 (and the book): Exploration

The first 8 episodes of Season 2 are a filter for those watching the show, many drop off. Personally I love it but I can see why it's not for everyone. Season 2 is much slower than the first and Elliot is in prison for those 8 episodes. He's also imagining that prison is his mother's house.

That daydreaming coping mechanism is largely there to add a fairly unearned sense of mystery to a character development season and make things a little more visually interesting. For the most part I don't really want to focus too much on it or the way Elliot treats "us"/"friend".

The fact is that for this season Mr. Robot and Elliot are in direct conflict but they are feeling out their landscape and trying to find common ground. They are pulling in different directions but they are reacting and responding to one another. The show uses a chess match as a visual symbol of this and in such they are keeping one another in a constant state of check. They are opposed to one another but they are communicating and working things out.

So let's start by looking at the book. The book is a recreation of the in-universe journal that Elliot keeps while he is in prison. We see him writing in it during the show and the entire thing is available, it even includes little ARG elements to let you decode the messages Mr. Robot is receiving from The Dark Army.

The book is detailed like this and it's possible to note when Elliot's handwriting turns into Mr. Robot's handwriting. There are even points where there is "blended" handwriting. It's easy to spot in the above image because Mr. Robot writes with a heavy hand and in all caps where Elliot is soft and uses lower case, in the top line of the second page "you NeeD atteNtioN aNd aRe Willing to pay a lotta MoNey to get it." you can see Elliot slipping from one headspace to another while becoming upset at society.

Even still if you look above the FUCK SOCIETY image you see Elliot's calmer handwriting as clear and flowing.

When we were in denial of our condition we poured through journal after journal and chatlog after chatlog hunting for evidence to prove or disprove the theory.

It was when I looked at our old gaming journals (we took notes in pen/pencil live during TTRPG sessions because memory issues are gonna memory issues) that we noticed similar. Cursive used in some phrases, individual letters separate on another, the letters g and y getting curled at times and not at other times.

Subtler than what is displayed above but no less real.

Season 2 introduces us to Ray the warden brilliantly played by Craig Robinson. He empathizes with Elliot because he speaks to his dead wife as a means of coping with grief and assumes that Elliot is the same.

He offers Elliot guidance by asking him to play chess "against himself" and this leads to Elliot and Mr. Robot playing endless games of stalemate against one another with deletion on the line for the loser. It's the same brain and neither side wants to lose (nor do they truly want to win, Elliot admits as much in Season 3 that he likes having Mr. Robot and misses him when he's not around) and as noted above with passive influence, the games are always guided to end in a stalemate because no matter how opposed they are as forces, they both want the same things.

So... how about the Sitcom episode?

Elliot breaks his promise to Ray and looks at the website that he is tasked with doing tech support on. It's--- not good.

Ray uses a combination of crooked cops and convicted Neo-Nazis to have Elliot beaten into submission so he won't report what he saw. Elliot cannot handle this and has a mental break and wakes up in a 90s 4 camera sitcom world.

Alf is there. Because old episodes of Alf are playing in the medical ward at the time Elliot is being treated for his wounds.

The entire time he is taking a beating Mr. Robot is protecting Elliot by fronting and forcing him into an inner-world fantasy.

Okay... so Inner-Worlds.

In the show we actually had one of these in Season 1 during the detox trip but I want to talk about it now and round back and talk more in Season 4.

Inner-Worlds are a thing within DID treatment. Emphasis on the word treatment. It's one of the more commonly misunderstood things within discussion on the condition because it's regularly reported as part of the experiences within those who are diagnosed with DID but it's important to know that the existence of the diagnosis indicates the existence of treatment.

During any adapted 3 or 4 phase trauma treatment program that includes parts work, whether this be Internal Family Systems model which is used for individuals who do not have DID or system mapping and stabilization for those who do, the patient must work on creating a "meeting" space to visualize (or sense out emotionally for those with aphantasia) and much of the work of developing safety and structure within comes from filling that space with comforts and generating communication between parts.

I'll talk more on the "conference table" in Season 4.

It is possible for those not going through therapy to create one outside of the context of a therapeutic alliance but the creation of one is an intentional act. Not something that comes free with your childhood trauma.

Elliot's trip to the inner-world keeps him from experiencing any of the beating that the body is receiving and at the end Mr. Robot earnestly says he only wanted to take the punches for Elliot, nothing more. Elliot falls against him, tearful and whimpers out "Thank you" before we are given the flashback of the day Edward picked up 9 year old Elliot from school after the fight and confesses his leukemia.

For the record, my heart swells every time I see Mr. Robot acting as a protector.

So, let's talk S2E9 and the "blending" incident.

Blending is what happens when two parts/alters are co-conscious and are present enough that they are sharing control of the body. It's an uncomfortable experience. Co-Consciousness means that more than one part/alter is actively perceiving the world at any given time.

It's more complicated than binary yes/no. Every one of these experiences exists on a spectrum and no two people with the condition experience it quite the same way but there are levels of presence that one has.

The following is me talking more from anecdotes and personal experience than textbooks. I like to be clear when I'm not being academic because I do not want to spread misinformation in my arbitrary analysis of TV shows that will get 20 notes on Tumblr Dot Com.

Front is to be driving the body, to have your inner monologue playing (if you have one, most people do, but it's not a given) and have your emotions interact with the nervous system if you are grounded enough to feel your experiences. As I said, it's a spectrum. Everyone gets dissociated at times and can just go into auto-pilot or a trance. That all still counts as being in front.

To be conscious but not front is to exist in an emotionally reactive state. If Fronting is driving then co-consciousness is to be in the passenger seat.

It's truly difficult to describe and my therapist doesn't even fully comprehend it despite her being the one who educates me on these topics. Presently as I type this I can only feel one of our system (5 parts) active and "with" me right now. She's not speaking but she's reacting. I can feel her apprehension to us typing this much about our personal life, little flits of paranoid thinking that we'll get anon-hate or that people from our former life will see this and judge us. It's a presence and exists on a gradient. She's "awake" right now but I do not consider her fully "co-con" because if I asked her to tell me what she thinks about this sentence I can feel an emotional reaction (apprehension) but not a direct answer akin to "I think you should edit out references to our journal and focus on talking about the show" (which is what I imagine she would say right now). That's the spectrum.

Closer to the front a part/alter is the more direct communication happens.

There's also "asleep" and "dormant" when they are unresponsive. Pretty self explanatory. Elliot's system has 5 parts(plus "friend") and until Season 4 we only really see Mr. Robot and the main character version of Elliot. Magda and Young Elliot show up in hallucinations in Season 1 and Young Elliot is co-con in Season 4. Magda never shows up outside of emotional flashbacks and the inner-world.

So after Elliot and Mr. Robot combine forces (though Mr. Robot is still working with the Dark Army and is trying to move in secret) they have moments where they rapidly switch and cannot keep straight who is fronting at any given time.

There's a scene where Elliot is in another room thinking to "friend" when he hears an argument in the next room and realizes Mr. Robot is in the argument. As he walks in, Mr. Robot is surprised to see that Elliot is aware when he is fronting and he trails off and they switch.

Mr. Robot says that something feels off about how they are acting and that they feel like they're overheating.

A later scene depicts Elliot phasing out mid-conversation on the subway and picturing himself in the next car observing Mr. Robot talking to Cisco while a passenger plays erratic music on a keyboard.

That is such a horrifyingly accurate depiction of something we live with that I was stunned to see it on screen. I've included it in some of my stories that go over living with these experiences but the idea is when we are stressed out, can't keep our head straight and are blended like this we tend to have snippets of music playing over and over in our head. We also get what I refer to as "static" and that seems to be relatable in support groups.

A++ for the show depicting something about the DID experience that simply does not get spoken about outside of the spaces of people dealing with it. It was the moment I knew they actually spoke to people who experience this stuff and did proper research that wasn't just media depictions and medical textbooks.

The final part of Season 2's wild ride I want to talk about is the "lucid dreaming" bit.

Mind awake. Body asleep. Mind awake. Body asleep.

This again goes into Overt DID which I cannot comment on as much as covert depictions but the idea is that Elliot trains himself to remain awake when Mr. Robot takes over. We have seen from the blending experience that he is starting to remain when Mr. Robot is active and so he tries to force himself to stay when Mr. Robot is active.

In therapy this would be achieved through trust, communication and awareness. It's said in communities that systems tend to become more overt as they go through treatment as they are able to identify lines, parts can advocate for themselves and there's better understanding of what "self" means for every alter.

In my experience there's also an element of trying to pretend to be consistent and whole. We were coming out transgender when our therapist guided us towards DID diagnosis and there was a lot of tearing ourselves apart because we needed to act in a certain way for our safety and inability to do so put us at risk of being targeted. In accepting our system we have stopped trying to be the same individual and that has lead to a more overt presentation. As I tell my therapist "we need to act out our gender expression anyway. Every action we take is a performance."

That is to say, Mr. Robot has never attempted to maintain the illusion that he is Elliot Alderson (albeit he never identifies himself. He's even surprised to learn that Elliot calls him that) and Elliot doesn't even know he is "The Mastermind".

In opting to remain hidden and conscious he gains a greater degree of control and agency in his situation.

These things get easier as you learn your condition, build system trust and allow yourself to experience that which you feel comfortable experiencing. With the example of the beating earlier, Mr. Robot shut Elliot out and took the beating for him and Elliot resisted but ultimately did not want to be present. In this episode he learns that if he wishes he could have pushed through and been there and experienced everything, albeit as a passenger rather than the driver.

Therapy also teaches how to "go into the back room" to maintain stability. A technique that lets you volunteer to not be involved in a situation. My system all use this whenever I (Dawn) perform erotic intimacy of any kind. They cannot handle the thought of associating with those acts and prior to treatment it would emotionally disregulate our nervous system if parts that couldn't handle the concept were to be present during those moments because parts of me would be trying to dissociate while I am trying to act. It would either trigger a switch, cause blending or make a part shut down and become unresponsive for a large period of time- one of our partners actually discovered our system this way. She saw us shut down during a scene and realized it wasn't just a "mood swing" as we had insisted.

Elliot learns how to intentionally open up and be present when Mr. Robot is active and because Plot happens he is shot and decides to use this skill to close himself off and create a stronger divide between parts.

Season 3: Rejection

If Season 2 was the pair working things out on a chess match where they keep one another in check then Season 3 is after Elliot has tossed the board and decided to shut Mr. Robot out completely.

The arc words are "battling in our own voids", in Season 1 Mr. Robot was always aware of what Elliot was doing but Elliot was unaware of Mr. Robot's actions and in Season 2 they were fairly co-conscious to the point of overheating. Season 3 the connection is shut down. Mr. Robot has no concept of what Elliot is doing and Elliot no concept of what Mr. Robot is doing.

This goes back to the Overt/Covert thing mentioned at the start. It's a rare thing even within a rare disorder to have that level of amnesia barriers between parts and so I can't really comment on accuracy. It's a frustrating season for me in that regard because Season 2 was doing so well at depicting something that I have lived through that going back to Fight Club tropes was fairly disappointing to me.

Season 3 is great by the way. It's a debate on if 3 or 4 is the best but it's close enough that there is a debate.

The real meat of the discussion, spare for the events of the final episode where they reconcile, is in how other people treat them and talk about their condition.

Angela Moss is Elliot's childhood best friend and also lost a parent to the disaster that claimed Edward Alderson's life. She discovered Elliot's condition during his breakdown in S1E8 and was brainwashed by the show villain Whiterose in S2E11 (I have a write-up of the psychological principals at play with the brainwashing here).

In Season 3 she acts as Elliot/Mr. Robot's handler and is responsible for helping Mr. Robot continue his hacktivist terrorism without Elliot finding out. She betrays Elliot and exploits his condition. She also tells people about it without his knowledge or consent, which is pretty fucking monstrous in my eyes.

Don't out a person. Just don't do it.

When Mr. Robot asks how she can tell who she's talking to she responds "Your eyes. You're never trying to look away." which is accurate enough that I messaged my girlfriend to be sappy and grateful towards her as the first time she noticed our condition she told me it was our eyes.

From a 2022 IM chat, shared with permission:

"it's ... well, it's [...] your eyes soften, kind of, when going to Cammie. Dawn has this piercing gaze, like she's looking right into my heart and soul. Camden is just very alert, noticing so many things but not the level of piercing. Cammie... her gaze is softer. More focused, but in a ... drinking everything in, rather than seeking it out sort of way"

and added today when I asked for permission to share the quote:

"(for the record, Craig draws his eyebrows down in a particular way that makes his gaze intense in a good way)"

The show works as hard as it can to never let the audience wonder who they are seeing on screen at any time. Most scenes where Rami Malek is depicting Mr. Robot it is a brief perspective view to remind us what the other characters are seeing before switching back to Christian Slater playing the character. There are a few scenes which involve Rami playing the character for a full sequence. One is the context for a flashback where we see a scene Slater performed through another character's eyes where they see Malek.

The others usually involve us being in Darlene's perspective to highlight her unease and uncertainty of what is happening with her brother.

The only scene where it is ever treated as a surprise is when Darlene plants a bug on Elliot's computer while staying overnight and is roughly interrogated by "Elliot", only to realize midway through the conversation "Jesus. It's you".

The camera cuts back to reveal it has been Mr. Robot the entire scene. They avoid that trick throughout the show so it has large impact when it actually happens.

I feel like that scene (as well as the scene where Elliot wears the real Mr. Robot jacket and gives birth to the 2 Stage plan to take down Evil Corp) are important for reminding that no matter how differently Malek and Slater play their roles, to an outside observer they are the same person and when he acts "out of character" it could easily just be an emotional outburst.

Incidentally you can see the physicality of the acting if you go back and watch it again.

The end of the season has Elliot, betrayed, alone and terrified for the safety of his sister; finally reach out to Mr. Robot and open a dialogue.

He even goes out of his way to have this discussion on the Ferris Wheel at Coney Island both as a Season 1 callback and as a sign of trust. Elliot admits in this conversation that he missed Mr. Robot while he shut him out and wants him to be part of his life and in the season finale Mr. Robot says that he wants the two of them to keep talking.

Elliot also finds out that the window incident wasn't his dad pushing him out of a window. They jumped. Elliot asks in a kind and soft way to Mr. Robot, representing both his protector and an element of the loving father he wished he had, "did you know?"

Mr. Robot, the one who jumped. The one who wanted to protect Elliot from Edward says nothing. But he finally feels an alliance form with Elliot.

The road to healing finally has opened.

Season 4: Integration and Fusion

So let's address the elephant in the room right away. The show uses the word "real" to describe the Elliot who existed before the show started and considers him to be the only legitimate alter. There is enough wiggle room within the show to think that is in-universe ignorance but the show does nothing to prevent the fumble at the finish line.

I want to say upfront and before I start dissecting this season that outdated models of DID believed that there was a crack formed in a person's sense of self and that healing involved restoring the identity prior to the crack.

This is 100% UNTRUE and it upsets me that people once believed it. DID is formed in childhood during a time of a person's life (between ages 4-9) where the child is taking in data from their surroundings and integrating it into their socialized survival mechanics to form a personality. The child is working out what traits it can exhibit to receive nurture, care and protection from other humans and will adapt to those processes. Attachment Theory goes into greater detail about how this relates to the formation of psychological disorders, especially personality disorders.

For a traumatized child they will find that their environments do not offer consistent and reliable safety and thus they are unable to adapt to a version of their reality where they are able to maintain stable safety. This may be horrifying forms of physical, emotional and sexual abuse placed upon a child and is often depicted as such but it can also be a confused child trying to get affection from a cold and distant parent or having a parent who abuses alcohol and becomes inconsistent in their ability to give affection and care. Child psychology is a heavy and depressing field, sadly.

The result is that the child never forms a permanent sense of identity. This is a large factor in the formation of Borderline Personality Disorder and is why DID and BPD are so often thrown together within medical treatment and diagnosis. It's at the point of which when my therapist gave me our diagnosis she presented a clinical list of "myths" regarding DID and "BPD is the same thing as DID" was 5 on the list of 6.

The point of this detour is to say that there is no original self. A person who has DID never managed to form a stable sense of identity in childhood and thus they find themselves acting as chameleons in their day-to-day life, adapting to what they feel they need to become in order to receive the things they need from their surroundings. It's why there is a stigma in the BPD community over the concept of being "manipulative". In reality people with that condition are unconsciously adapting to their environment as a survival mechanism. With DID the added layer of dissociation is there to help the self function even when they are forced to interact with materials that are incompatible with their ability to function.

Pre-show Elliot was living a fairly comfortable life but his emotional needs were not met and at the time he was alienated from his sister. He was miserable and lived in a society that he felt was crumbling. His daydreaming gave birth to "The Mastermind" to remove the threats from his reality and Mr. Robot who had been there all along went into Protective Sicko Mode and decided to expedite the process in a way only a protector's morality could.

We'll get into system roles a little later.

The point is that day-to-day life Elliot (Janina Fisher's book "Healing the Fragmented Self" refers to the part untouched by trauma as the "going about daily life" part) is not Real. He is not The Original. Those terms do not exist and are meaningless in this space.

True/Real/Orignal-Elliot is as much a construct as Mr. Robot. He's a version of Elliot who does not have to think about the trauma, he can just live a happy normal life. The kind that Elliot speaks often and derisively about in Season 1.

With that out of the way, I'm going to ignore the bad use of language and talk only about what is depicted on the screen and not said out loud. Because if you remove the misconception about real/original from the mixture, this is a perfect depiction of final fusion model healing.

Season 4 introduces us to the conference table in the inner world. A conference table is a therapeutic technique used in trauma therapy where you bring the alters/parts to a conference. The idea is that it needs to be a neutral ground where everyone is comfortable and able to share their thoughts and ideas. With practice it can be a space one can close their eyes and imagine, seeing their system and allowing communication to happen between parts.

Mine is based on the Minerals Gallery in the Natural History Museum in London. I refer to it as The Library. You didn't need to know that but I didn't want to discuss this section without mentioning it.

Elliot's is the conference room in Evil Corp where he and Tyrell spoke in the first episode.

Interestingly enough there are only 4 seats in this set. I'm not sure what the implication is here as in the scene depicted above Magda (Persecutor Alter) is scolding Young Elliot (Child Alter) for sitting in a chair that isn't his. They mention all 3 alters who are not present (Elliot, Mr. Robot and The Other One).

My thought is that this is the show going all in on the idea that Elliot ("Real") is not an alter and does not take a seat at the table. Which I have issues with.

I'll note as I did with the inner-world that this is a therapy technique and not something Elliot would just have in his mind. It's an accurate depiction of DID treatment but Elliot isn't being treated for DID. Krista is no way near close enough to be able to help Elliot. She's wonderful and deserves the world and more for how she handles things in this season but she's in the pre-stabilization phase of therapy where she knows more than Elliot is willing to accept and needs to wait for him to come around.

Speaking of Krista. Episode 7 is the greatest hour of television rivaled only by Ozymandias from Breaking Bad and the M*A*S*H finale. At present it has a 9.9 on IMDB.

The episode is structured as a bottle episode in way of a 5 act play depicting the stages of grief. This is the episode where Elliot peels back to dissociative layers and understands the truth. The truth of what his father did.

I won't type it.

I don't need to.

The next episode involves Elliot seeing Young Elliot and following him to a museum exhibit with a model of Manhattan. In Season 1 when Elliot had his psychotic break after realizing Darlene is his sister Darlene and Angela checked this location stating it was a place he used to go in times of crisis.

It turns out when he was young Elliot hid the key to his bedroom here to prevent Edward from getting in. All these years later adult Elliot (or "The Mastermind" if you prefer, which I do not) discovers it and has a heart-to-heart with his younger self, screaming into the emptiness that he's sorry for not protecting him. Sorry for letting him get hurt.

The scene is lit in the golden hues that symbolize safety in this show. The final season also takes place during Christmas in New York so it gets to show off that color palette more often which is great for symbolism and aesthetic.

Young Elliot shows that the act of hiding the key from their father was protecting him. It was fighting back. Sometimes surviving is the best you can do and you need to forgive yourself for not being able to do more.

God I love this show so much.

That episode ends with the scene I most want to just overtly show off to an audience.

youtube

I already loved the show. The final episode may have broken my heart a little with its talk of "Real" but this scene? This scene gets it.

Prior to the above video clip Mr. Robot cautiously approaches and says "Hey, kiddo". Something he always says. It's who he is. Regardless of anything else he, Mr. Robot, is designed from the father Elliot wishes he had and when he hears Mr. Robot-- no Edward's voice he tenses up in terror, allowing the above scene to take place with Mr. Robot so scared that he has failed as a protector by allowing Elliot to remember and that he cannot be there for him any longer because of who he is based off of.

Those with the condition commonly create alters who are based on the traits of those in the child's life at the time the symptoms developed. I... have experience.

The lines I want to focus on the most are:

Mr Robot: If I could go back in time and change everything that happened to you... just make it all go away...

Elliot: Then I wouldn't be me... *He turns to finally look at Mr. Robot* ...and I wouldn't have you.

The final arc of the show is where the "Mastermind" twist takes center stage and Elliot enters his inner-world and finds out that he created a peaceful reality for "Real" Elliot to exist in so that he is unharmed by the horrors of the world that is crumbling in reality. Mr. Robot, as a protector, wanted to expedite the whole hack and destruction of capitalism in order to rescue "Real" Elliot from the inner-world prison. In time he came to accept "Mastermind" as a part of the whole and not a rogue alter who was endangering the body and their "Host".

S4E13 lays it all down. An imagined version of Krista speaks directly to Elliot and explains the system and their functions. Mr. Robot a father and protector who could prevent Elliot from intolerable situations. Magda, a persecutor who blamed Elliot for the abuse. Young Elliot, who Elliot could push the traumatic situations on, a common thing that many do unconsciously in CPTSD situations, dissociating from the person the trauma happened to, disconnecting until they are just another version of self.

Elliot then says "I guess she doesn't know about you." referring to us, the audience.

Krista(*) looks into the camera and addresses us directly, calling us the voyeurs who pretend we're not a part of it even though we have been here for it all. She even claims we are on her side in getting "Mastermind" to accept he is a constructed personality who was there to lash out at the society that caused him so much pain.

"You loved him so much you wanted to keep him safe, no matter the cost."

The episode ends with "Mastermind" Elliot waking up in a hospital and reuniting with Darlene only to realize that she has known the entire time that the person we have been following throughout the show wasn't her "real" brother.

...and god damn it I hate this element of the show so much.

I'll accept that they had very little time to clean things up and needed to get a way to have Mastermind agree to the fusion. I'll even demonize Darlene and say she was being selfish and ignorant in saying something hurtful because she missed the version of her brother that existed before Fsociety.

But Our version of Elliot says that he loves her and she doesn't reply. Her disappointment and resignation causes Our Elliot to go back inside and agree to the fusion.

The show ends in a first person perspective of Darlene seeing her "real" brother wake up and that's it. I'm glad we never actually see "Real" Elliot, that feels fitting.

Here's the thing about that last minute fumble though.

Let's talk about Integration and Fusion. They are different things.

Integration is when dissociative barriers come down. The system is stabilized to the point of which the alters are capable of communicating openly, sharing thoughts, memories and experiences and every part has the ability to opt in or out as life goes on.

"Functional Multiplicity" is what happens when a system is in harmony, no memories are being withheld and the system is able to go about everyday life with minimal disruption or disregulation. It is a valid goal for trauma therapy and there's a decent amount of medical stigma around it being used as the goal and not a step towards the goal. Many clinicians prioritize the appearance of normalcy over the function of the individual(s).

Fusion is when you go the extra step and take this communication and sharing of memory and experience and as you tore down the dissociative barriers you tear away the division between parts.

A system is made up of parts that make up a whole person and Fusion is the process of all parts uniting to "become" that whole person. It is a valid and normal goal for treatment. It shouldn't be held up as the only legitimate method of healing but it shouldn't be demonized for being an option. I say this because I have seen some people in support communities get real upset when the topic comes up.

The final sequence of the show, prior to Elliot opening his eyes, involves the system at the inner-world conference table agreeing to go through with it and walking towards a cinema screen. Elliot says this will only work if we go too.

The family (and audience) sit down in the movie theatre and memories flood onto the screen and pour out until all experiences and emotions are shared in one pool and Elliot Alderson opens his eyes with all 5(+audience) alters fused into one.

It was almost perfect if only Darlene hadn't have rejected the "not real" brother.

The cinema screen projecting memories, all the thoughts and experiences being shared as the Alderson System accept their parts in the whole and agree to the process? It was a beautiful visualization of a healing journey.

There are imperfect moments here and there. There are great moments I skipped over such as S3E8 (I'm not up for talking about Self-Deletion today) but all in all it's the best depiction of DID for a main character we'll likely get on TV. It's a whole and complete narrative and I love it so much. It makes me feel seen.

#dawn posting #mr robot #dissociative identity disorder #elliot alderson #did #plurality #domo arigato mr alderson #media myself and i #watch me post my trauma in public #Youtube #media essays

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gffa · 6 months

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I finished Rise of the Red Blade this morning and I think I genuinely liked it, to the point that I started mentally composing essays about the main character's journey and the parallels she had with other Star Wars characters and how so much of this book supported everything I've been saying about the dark side and what it does to people, as well as unreliable narrators, and even things where I thought they might be swerving into unfair critical territory on the part of the narrative wound up ultimately being almost delivered to me on a silver platter for how I was fucking right. But I don't think I would recommend it and would even anti-rec it to fellow Jedi fans who have had their nerves scraped raw, unless you are into sharp-edged female characters as much as I am. This book is for all the fans who want a hot mess of a female character who is allowed to be cruel and mean and wrong and all up in her head and unreliable and have moments of absolute yearning that made my heart ache for her and moments of awesome and that she gets to fail and be consumed by the dark and her story is worth telling. If I can love Anakin Skywalker through his descent into the dark, I can love Iskat Akaris through her descent into the same place. This is a book about what it's like to choose the dark side, to believe she's right and that she's free and that she'll get everything she wants--except it's all just kind of nothing in the end. She believes so strongly that the Jedi wronged her, that they never cared about her, that their beliefs were empty, but she says this deep in the dark side and everything we can see outside of her perspective shows that they were trying to help her, she just isn't allowed to go around embracing anger and violence. And it's a book about how mental illness makes it hard to see things clearly. As someone who has struggled with it for my entire life, who only really began to make progress once I accepted that my brain lies to me when it tells me that my friends and family find me to be a burden and would hate me if they knew the real me--ohhhh, do I see a lot of myself in Iskat Akaris. And it's a book about how it doesn't half-ass that descent. She gets to be genuinely cruel. She gets to be genuinely whole-hearted about her beliefs in the dark side have set her free and is good. She gets to be genuinely a giant ball of uncontrolled emotional thorns that she uses to hurt herself as much as other people. This is a book that's not afraid of making its main character unlikeable and, through that, making her beloved to me. If you're not into a book with sharp edges and hissing lies about the Jedi, then skip this one, just don't even read this review, because it's not going to change your mind. But if you're like me and love drama and love when a narrative doesn't actually spell things out for you, but provides all the context you need if you actually watch what the Jedi say and do, not what Iskat says they say and do, it delivers a story that I think supports my view of the Jedi pretty well. This is a story about choosing the dark and all the darkness that comes with that. It's not nice, it's not gentle. I mean, it's still a Star Wars book, but if you like awful women getting to actually be awful in ways that you can sympathize with, the ways that male characters so often get to be, then I genuinely enjoyed this book for that.

#lumi.txt #star wars #novels #novels: rise of the red blade #<--blacklist that if you're not into this kind of book

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mirageofadesert · 4 months

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Looking back on my first year as a c-drama fan!

This year I fell - first down a flight of stairs - and then (because I couldn't walk properly for a few weeks) down a rabbit hole of cdramas!

In total, I have watched 28 dramas since May. I actually finished 17 of them. I re-watched 8 of them at least once. My most rewatched show is Till The End Of The Moon, followed by Love Is Sweet and The Untamed!

Shows I loved

Till The End of The Moon: This drama triggered my hyperfixation, and I still love it so much. Tantai Jin became my new obsession.

Love is Sweet: This one surprised me because I don't usually care for romantic dramas. It made me more open to different genres.

The Untamed: I watched this for the first time in 2019, and now I can appreciate it even more.

The Sleuth of Ming Dynasties: It took me several tries to get into the drama because the political setting was too complicated. I'm glad I didn't give up. Wang Zhi became one of my favorites!

New Life Begins: I was just looking for something light in between and was quite surprised how much I liked the show.

Things I learned as a newbie:

Cdramas are an acquired taste. Sometimes it's worth going back to a drama that you initially gave up on.

To avoid spoilers, it's best to skip the intro and especially the outro.

I love my characters unhinged.

Apparently it is okay to share leaks from filming.

Never believe anything that comes from yxh accounts.

Shippers are toxic in any fandom.

C-drama fans are a bit older than K-pop fans, but they can be just as unhinged and have trouble distinguishing between how to treat actors and the fictional characters they play.

My ADHD is better regulated when I watch shows in a foreign language while reading the subtitles. I don't get bored watching TV, which is rare!

Shows I dropped, and what I learned from it:

Hidden Love: I still don't like romances that have no significant plot beyond the relationship. Especially if I don't care about the characters at all.

Back from the Brink: Sometimes dramas that start well become an unwatchable, rage-inducing mess halfway through, and it's not worth sticking it out to the end.

Beauty of Resilience: I'm a character-driven audience. If the characters aren't compelling and the story isn't interesting, I don't care about the show.

Ashes of Love: I hate childish FL with baby voices and naive personalities. I need better written female characters. I'm on my 3rd attempt to watch this show and I only have a handful of episodes left, so I'll actually make it to the end (eventually).

I've dropped a lot more shows and actually watched some to the end that I didn't like very much in the end, but those are the ones I learned the most from.

What will stay with me:

Tantai Jin: I'm still obsessed with this character. He is everything I need in a fictional character.

Luo Yunxi: This will come as no surprise to anyone who follows me, but my obsession with TTJ soon extended to Luo Yunxi.

Bai Lu & Sun Zhenni: While I appreciate both of them as actors, it's their fun and uninhibited personalities that made me fall in love with them!!

Costumes: I adore the detailed costumes and hanfu styles, and do prefer costume dramas to modern ones.

Food & drinks: I'm now looking into more Chinese foot now and how to cook vegetables in more interesting ways. I also bought "moon cake stamps"... so wish me luck!

New online acquaintances: I have made some new friends online who I can fangirl with to my heart's content!

What I'm looking forward to in 2024:

I'm really looking forward to Luo Yunxi's upcoming dramas, Follow You Heart, Shui Long Yin and Immortality (🤡). I'm also looking forward to Sun Zhenni's first leading role!

There are still many dramas I want to watch, but haven't found the time for. Like A Journey to Love, Goodbye, My Princess, Nirvana in Fire, Then Miles of Peach Blossoms and The Blood of Youth.

I'm not sure what else I'll post here next year. Probably more reviews and content related to my favourite actors. Let's see if something triggers my hyperfixation soon!

Happy New Year!

#cdrama

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demigodickrider · 5 months

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indefinitely, forever ☆ okkotsu yuuta! [2/3]

okkotsu yuuta (post shibuya) x fem!reader click here for: part one | part two | part three - no spoilers from the manga, dwdw ;) - alternative universe where yuuta is an SCP? - [18+] three-part series, 10k+ words in total

(note: not proofread, expect grammar mistakes) warning: contains descriptions of blood, yuuta is a bit OOC/has that gojo satoru influence, romance, happy ending but contains slight angst and comfort, 2nd person pov, reader swears like a sailor

Nanami and Maki were nowhere to be seen, probably being told to retreat back into their offices for further discussion.

All eyes were on you however, being flailed around like a ragdoll in Rika's hand as she continues her slaughter. You could tell just how much the pair were enjoying this; the bloodshed had the walls painted in complete red. A stark contrast to the bland whiteness of the facility. You couldn't bear to watch as screams erupted all around you, silenced once Rika descends her attack on them, which had somehow grown more destructive over time.

"Where now?"

You point weakly at the hall to the left. Fuck the Foundation for designing their buildings akin to mazes. It left you bedridden and sick the first night you had to memorize their layout. But it felt worth it now, the three of you trudging forward and towards the exit with no difficulty.

"Elevator. Push the down button."

"Not up?"

"That's a secret alert button," Secrets spew out of your mouth like a waterfall. Nothing really mattered now that you're siding with evil. "Don't press that or we're fucked."

Yuta does as you told him to.

Now's a matter of defending yourselves before it arrives.

Rika sets you down on the ground, a low rumble emitting from her throat. Your knees felt weak like jelly, but you manage. Rika disappears back into Yuta's body without a trace, leaving the two of you alone. Now you both look human more than ever, but the blood tainting your clothing had a lot of convincing to do if you were to try and prove so.

Your ears pick up on the hurried footsteps approaching near, and Yuta readies his katana. The figures come closer, light behind them casting a familiar silhouette over two individuals holstering weapons-

"Wait! Those are my friends."

Yuta lowers the weapon slightly.

They slow down, coming to a stop.

Maki's eyes were practically bulging out of their sockets, seeing that you were in the hands of Rika. Nanami looked beyond frustrated. "Let her go, or we'll have no choice but to neutralize you."

"Wait, you guys. This isn't-"

Yuta cuts you, "I don't want to."

"Can't you at least let me talk to them?"

"What's going on?" Maki's gaze drifts between the two of you, suspicion lingering in the air. "Are you two working together? Seriously, get your head out of the gutter! If you're working with him just because you almost saw him naked-"

"Huh-"

"That has nothing to do with this!" You protest, your ears burning from the sudden accusation. "Listen to me, alright?"

"I'm listening." Nanami's spectacles glint under the light menacingly, weapon in hand. You've worked with him long enough to know that he'd most likely believe in reason than what's shown up front. Yet you were at a loss for words to even explain the absurdity of your situation: how would you tell them that you were coerced into this? The blood on their hands was as much the same as on yours; you lead them out all the way here. Despite wanting to do what's right, you chose to be selfish and instead helped the pair of anomalies.

You were the one who chose to betray the Foundation.

You're just as guilty as Yuta is. No less, no more.

"I... He broke out of his cell and..." Before you could finish, the elevator has reached your level. The metal doors open. "Nanami, Maki, I-"

Yuta pats your shoulder, "We need to go. Now."

"But-"

"Now." And there's that same dead-eyed look again, replacing any friendliness you had shared. You swallowed thickly, nodding at his command, knowing very well that the only two people you cared for are now no longer trusting of you.

Your nails dig deep into the palm of your hands when you had to turn your back on them. Yuta waits for you to enter then presses it close, noting how your friends stood aghast without firing their weapons.

It seems that they, too, have chosen to be just as guilty as you are.

...

"Are you okay?" Yuta's soft voice brought you back to reality. You were no longer back at the facility but rather in the comfort of your own home. Yuta had no clue about the city, finding himself displaced from the hometown he had been used to. You were lucky enough that you had just moved into a new residential area no one knew, an hour away from the underground base.

You had no energy to fight with the criminal sitting in front of you. He sat with both legs crossed, watching the snow trickle outside. He's wearing an oversized sweater of yours that had somehow fit perfectly on him. Droplets of water cascade down the side of his cheeks from his damp hair, no longer retaining its slicked down shape.

"Obviously not." You reply snarkily.

Yuta shifts away from the magical sight and onto your tired face. Your cheeks flush red and your pants were loose. Somehow you've lost even more weight prior to getting the job. You put your head in your hands, wanting to cry, yet finding the energy to do so was futile.

He shifted in his seat, uncomfortable at your sorrow.

"I'm sorry."

Hearing him apologize drove you mad.

"Say sorry one more time and I'm kicking you out."

He zips his lips shut, choosing to avert his focus on the falling snow again. It's December this time around, mid-winter. He'd lost count of the days he spent in the military looking up at high ceilings made of concrete at night, with little to no light. They had always treated him so unkindly; so inhumanely; leaving him to sleep on the floor like an animal and locking him up until it was time to leave for a mission. At least he had a bed during his time in the facility.

He hears a sniffle from you and scoots closer. There's this instinct he has that tells him to hold you close- maybe even give you a reassuring hug- but he's not so sure. He knows, clearly, that he's the cause of your demise and that he had just screwed your life over completely; but the Foundation would keep things discreet about the damage and betrayal you've caused. There's a benefit to working in secrecy, he supposes. So he does the next best thing he could think of:

"Are you hungry?"

His words made your stomach complain. All day you were merely surviving off coffee and stale breadsticks from the staff kitchen; some days you even forgot to eat from how tired you were.

You glare at him between the cracks of your fingers.

"Okay." Yuta gets up and walks over to the kitchen. Despite his isolation from the outside world, he had gotten pretty skilled in cooking. Having Rika around was tenacious as she always preferred eating meat raw; but tendencies are simply tendencies and when Rika isn't around, Yuta preferred cooking for himself.

You wiped your tears off with the paws of your sweater. It's December, just a little over two weeks left before Christmas. Just yesterday you were planning with Maki to go on a trip, but now...

Now you can't even use your phone in case you were tracked.

Hot tears spill from the corners of your eyes as you broke down once again, this time in a fit. Whatever exhaustion that had piled up pushed you to the very edge. For weeks you've been dreading going to work, only staying for the paycheck and for your friends. Hell, you had to convince yourself that you had a crush on one of the guys in the lounge just so you could continue going.

Maybe this was a sign that you should've quitted earlier.

Your logic battles with your conscience.

It's clearly Yuta's fault, so why are you beating yourself up?

Grief turns to anger as you stood from your seat and stomp angrily towards the man poking around in your fridge. There's an array of wilted vegetables across the counter. The thought of grocery shopping crossed your mind for a brief while; then it was overpowered by the sheer emotion of wanting to strangle the source of your troubles: fucking Yuta Okkotsu and his damned pet monster.

"Dinner's not ready yet- urhmp!"

You take him by the collar and slam him onto the counter. You earn a high-pitched yelp from the man once you punch him, this time not missing; right in his fucking face. Yuta groans in pain, a purple bruise forming on his cheek. The imprints of your knuckles fade slowly from his pale skin, and he winces as you pulled him back up by the collar. Your left hand takes the win yet again as you slap him hard across his face- so hard that stars burst within his vision. You were surprised to find that Rika hadn't come out and attacked you yet for what you did to him.

"Aren't you sorry for what you did to me?"

His eyebrows knit together, arms limp on his sides. "I'm sorry."

"You think that's fucking enough?" Your words come out harsh through gritted teeth. Yuta exhales, both hands coming up to grip your wrists firmly and forcing them off his collar.

"No, it isn't. I know that."

"I'll fucking kill you one day."

"No, you can't. You know that."

You try to budge your hands away from his grip to no avail. His hands are just as cold as you remember them. His eyes fail to mask his worry when he saw your bruised knuckles and the cuts on your arm. He had forgotten just how fragile you were compared to him, a supernatural human with a stupidly OP alien slash monster slash creature by his side to almost always heal him without actively seeking for it. You were human; as dainty as a dandelion; a single blow by his hand and you'd be crushed in an instant.

Despite being roughed up, Yuta made sure to be extra gentle handling you. To make sure you wouldn't break at his touch.

"Are you hurt anywhere else?"

"Fuck off. Don't pretend like you give a shit about me."

He says nothing, hands moving up to cover over yours in spite of what you said. While you may not be physically strong, you've formulated your vocabulary enough to hurt like shards of broken glass. The room falls into temporary solace as he heals you.

"Listen. I'm really sorry."

The purple on your knuckles slowly started to fade, and the stinging subsided. "I don't give a shit, Yuta. You ruined my life and I'm not forgiving you for as long as you live."

"Then can I show you just how sorry I am?"

"And how would you do that? You think you're gonna win my heart over by some cooking?" You grit your teeth in pain when he massages over the sore knuckles that were just healed.

"I'll earn it however you want me to."

"Huh?"

Yuta's fingers glide over the cuts and bruises on your arm, counting them. "Whatever it takes for you to forgive me, I'll do it. I don't want to become estranged to you."

There's this weird feeling in your chest that's telling you to slap him again. But you hold back, mulling his words over and over. Whatever it takes, he says? You could practically use him however you wanted to for your own personal gain. With those looks of his, you could turn him into a runaway model and have all the money for yourself. The gears of business turned into your head. You could have him clean your house everyday, tell him to get a job, and live burden-free for the rest of your life. Having Rika would be an extra plus for security.

But wait a damn minute; estranged? You've just met him today and you're both acting like lovers living underneath the same roof.

He must've caught this realization of yours with the odd way he looks down at your hand, then at his, then back to your face. Yuta feels a little self-conscious, "Um, what? Is there something on my face?"

Hey hey, wait. Doesn't he look a little cute?

You raise a hand and slap yourself.

"Huh- are you okay?!"

"If I don't kill you, then I'll kill myself."

"Oh heavens, no. Please don't do that." Yuta slips his fingers in yours without much thought, pulling you closer to him. "Just breathe. Breathe in slowly, then out. This... this isn't worth that much to die for, alright? I'll help you find another job. I won't be much of a burden to you anymore since I'll move out soon, so please don't-"

He smells so much like the vanilla shampoo you love.

"Yuta." You cut his rambling off.

The poor boy is shaking with anxiety. Whatever deadly facade he had on just a few hours ago had evaporated along with your sadness, "Y-Yeah?"

"Do you realize just how absurd we are right now?"

"What do you mean?" He blinks innocently.

"This... whatever you're doing to me."

He rakes his eyes on you- head to toe, then back up to you. "The healing? It's Rika's powers and not mine."

"No. I mean, the situation that we're in right now."

"...That I killed people and that we're on the run?"

"No. It's how close we are together."

Yuta's face turns pink at the realization, "Oh, uh. Sorry, I..." Your hands and his untangle. It's hard to believe that this was the same man that hunted you down akin a predator to its prey; his eyes that once held no regard for human life are now shaking from your intense query. He deftly looks away from you to the side instead, putting his arms behind his back. He wants to curl into a ball and melt into a puddle; his very own innocence had chipped away the walls he had once built to keep emotions at an arm's length away.

Yuta's heart stutters, like a teenage boy with a crush.

"You know... if you like touching me so much all you gotta do is ask." Something else swells within you seeing him vulnerable like that. A deadly man with a deadly SCP no doubt; but worked up just because you reminded him of his proximity? It was your turn to tease him.

"I... Why do you say it like that?"

"Then why do you keep touching me?"

His eyes meet yours, "Because I need to heal you?"

"I don't believe you."

"Would you rather I touch you in a different way, then?" Yuta asks, dipping his head closer to you. The air changes in a split second, and you feel hotter than you should be in early December.

"...Huh?"

He mimics your words with a befitting smile, "If you want me to touch you so much, all you gotta do is ask..."

You felt like you were going to explode.

From tension or embarrassment, you don't know.

"Fuck you, Yuta."

You mock him.

Yuta chuckles,

"Sure."

Your eyes widen when he puts a hand behind your head, leaning closer to kiss you softly on the lips.

Time had somehow stopped for the two of you, the snow outside halting in their descent. His usually cold fingers had turned warm, resting nicely on the crook of your neck. His lips were plush soft against yours. His other hand cups your face, thumb stroking your cheek slowly with the kind of affection you've never felt before.

This was personal.

This was intimate.

This has got to be some kind of fucked up love.

He pulls back abruptly, guilt pooling in his eyes. "I'm sorry-"

Yeah, it has to be.

It must be with the way you responded back to him just as hungrily when he tore apart from you. Your hands grasp desperately at the clothing you lent to him, smelling so sweetly of your strawberry scented fabric softener, as if he was going to crumble to dust in your arms. It must be in the way your eyes flutter to a close, devoting all trust in a man you barely knew. It must be in the way his touches kindle a fire in you, raising the hair on your arms and back, how your body eases into the warmth his body emits. It must be how you yearn for his touch despite knowing him so briefly; as if you had known each other forever. It must be in the way his lips fit so perfectly on yours, cherry red on Merlot wine, drunken in each other.

It must be, it must be, it must be.

It must be some kind of fucked up destiny.

His hands travel down to your waist, holding you in place. Yuta loved touching; but especially touching you now, after having just realized how devoid of love he truly was. Regarded as viler than human all his years, pent-up frustration had him abandoning his emotions; his only saving grace of ever being considered human.

But in your arms, he felt human.

Each kiss lasted longer than the last. Outside, the world had turned a shade of dark only the moon can light up. You both finally break apart, catching your breaths. You notice the pinkish hue dusting his bruised cheeks and he notices the shy smile on your lips.

"Yuta... my legs."

"I got you," Yuta mumbles softly, carefully switching your positions and placing you on top of the counter. Now he's the one looking up at you, his lips a shade redder than before and the most lovesick gaze in his eyes you've ever seen. "You look so pretty when you smile."

You blush, "See, that's my first kiss you took."

"I thought the floor took your first?"

You smack him lightly, "Don't bring that up!"

He chuckles at the memory.

"I'm sorry that I punched you. Does it still hurt?" In the back of your mind you shot yourself for casting your pride aside, but you had to. He had kissed all the hatred you had for him away.

"Don't be." He rubs his cheeks, "I can heal myself, I deserved it."

"Yeah you know what, you're right. You do."

--------------------------------------------------------------> part 3 (smut)

#jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk #jjk x reader smut #jjk yuuta #yuuta okkotsu #yuuta x you #okkotsu yuta #okkotsu yuuta #yuta okkotsu #how many fucking tags does yuta have #i had to redo tags imma kms #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #x reader #fanfiction #jjk fanfic

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