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prettyiwa · 3 years

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AO3 | NSFT 18+ | Playlist (🎵) | Event

Pairing: Matsukawa Issei x F!Reader Rating: Explicit 18+ | DARK CONTENT Content Warnings: Post-Time Skip, Yandere, Killer!Reader, Background Character Deaths, Stalking, Obsessive Behavior, Delusional Thoughts, Explicit Sexual Content, Fingering, Oral (f! receiving) , Breath Play, Praise Kink, Biting, Possessive Behavior Summary: There's something about you that has Matsukawa willing to go to extremes to know more. Word Count: 4,075

A/N: There are multiple influences for this particular piece, including a favorite fic of mine which is no longer available. The final nail in my coffin was the song "People I Don't Like". I—just.

Anyway. Tagging @izziibean & @sakuroo for some dark Matsukawa content~

The cold night air swirls around the two men as their attention flickers between the tiny glowing screen and the busy streets before them. Issei can’t find it in him to care too much about the chill, despite the harsh shiver that runs through Takahiro, despite the protests of the cold, exposed skin of his nose. His goal for the night, for this weekend, is you.

It was all planned out—an invitation to get food, maybe go to a karaoke bar. He had even gone out of his way to find out your favorite food, your favorite restaurant, just to increase the likelihood that you’d agree. All that went out the window when he caught a glimpse of the lace top of your stockings as your skirt rode up, when he heard you make a passing mention of “plans tonight” when the director asked about your weekend plans.

He didn’t mean for it to get this far, for him to have roped Makki into finding a way into one of the more exclusive clubs in the city, one with a private party and security meant to frighten away any unwanted guests. There’s just something about you that makes all rational thought and coherency leave Issei until all that’s left is an aching, wanting puddle of a man.

And he’s tired of waiting. He’s tired of not getting what he wants.

“Don’t you think you’re taking this a little too far, Mattsun?” Makki presses, not bothering to look up from his phone anymore.

“What do you mean?”

“I thought this was a small curiosity of yours—I know you like a good mystery and she… fits that description really well, but you gotta know how this looks,” Makki tries reasoning. His concern is legitimate, buried beneath the burning desire he has to make it past any locked door, but it’s also fleeting. Even if it weren’t, Issei has no intention of bringing Makki into the fold—he doesn’t need to know how deep Issei is.

“I’m not stalking her if that’s what you’re trying to get at,” he denies, hoping Makki doesn’t push the topic any further.

“C’mon. I think this goes a bit beyond ‘curiosity.’ You’re lucky that I am curious at this point, or I wouldn’t be doing this for you.”

A beat of silence falls before both men look up at the other and start laughing. “That’s a lie and we both know it. You’re more curious about what that club’s hiding than what goes on between me and my coworker.”

“Heh. Could be. Could be that I’m hoping that I help you out now and later you hook me up with one of her friends.”

“Got it. I’ll definitely make that a priority of mine,” he snickers, glancing over Makkis’ shoulder. “I’m lucky that you don’t like being told ‘no.’ Are we any closer to finding out what this party’s all about?”

Makki clicks his tongue against his teeth in mild annoyance, opting for silence rather than a definitive answer. He nudges Issei’s shoulder with his own after another minute or so, indicating with his chin that they should stand in line. “Let’s see if this works.”

They approach the line that snakes its way to the entrance of the club, watching as potential patrons are turned away with no chance of entering tonight. Perhaps two or three are granted entry by the time the line places Issei and Makki at the front and, from what the latter says, these bouncers are different from the ones that typically work Friday nights. They seem unused to dealing with the public like this, or as though they’re particularly dispassionate about this crowd.

The men are built like Iwaizumi ever since his return from Irvine, though they’re closer to Makki’s height than Hajime’s. They scowl at the two men, certain that neither belongs in the club—not that they’re wrong—though they do little more than remind Issei of Kyoutani’s grumpy demeanor whenever Oikawa tried to “give orders.” He derives a singular pleasure from watching their grimaces morph into expressions of surprise as Makki shows them something on his phone, not listening as his friend spouts nonsense combined with unfamiliar names so fluidly that even Issei would have bought it.

He tries not to look too self-satisfied when the bouncers step aside, allowing them to enter the club unimpeded. It’s pleasantly busy, just enough so that they have to weave their way through the sea of bodies but not enough that it feels as though everyone’s at risk of being deprived of oxygen. It’s hot inside, though Issei decides against checking his jacket.

Just before they cross the threshold onto the dance floor, Makki stops Issei with a hand on his shoulder. “Ah, I’m gonna find someone to dance with. Don’t do anything to stand out, yeah?”

“Don’t need to tell me twice,” Issei snorts before his friend takes his leave. Making his way to the bar, Issei can’t help the feeling of unease that settles in his gut, whether it’s because of that nervous laugh that Makki gave before leaving coupled with the fact that Makki rarely gets nervous or the simple fact that something feels off, he doesn’t really know. And it doesn’t matter. He’s too close to let this stop him.

Issei knows that this is… unhealthy. The way that he thinks about you? The amount of time spent thinking about you? Ultimately, he wants to chalk it up to the fact that he works with the dead day in and day out, that his supervisor, regardless of his recent absence, is as cold and harsh as the corpses he treats. He wants to chalk it up to some desperate need to see something beautiful and warm and full of life, but you’re not. You’re cold and beautiful and there’s something about you that has just poisoned his heart and his mind until all that’s left is you.

He doesn’t know whether he wants to court you because he seeks to recover those pieces of him that you stole, or whether he wants to court you because he seeks to give you the rest. And, fuck, if he isn’t desperate to know which it is.

Leaning against the bar top, his eyes scan the crowd, faces easily blurring together as there’s little variation in the outfits worn by the men, the hairstyles worn by the women, to the color scheme of the patrons as a whole. The bartender takes his order as he commits himself to finding your face in the crowd—surely, with how your face is permanently ingrained into his memory, he can spot you if he takes a moment to focus.

The alcohol hits his tongue and he savors its taste, its weight before it goes down, before he feels that all too familiar burn, the one that will give way to that comfortable state of physical dissociation, the softening of the world’s edges. It’s not a drink he’s used to finding in a club—something that he’d likely have to go out of his way to find even out of the club—though he’s never been to this particular club to know if it’s truly an oddity.

Honestly, this entire night is an oddity, beyond his pursuit of you, but he can’t quite give it much thought when his gaze finally lands on the subject of his ruminations. Downing the remainder of his drink—not the greatest of moves, he’s sure—he’s quick to make his way through the crowd toward you.

Nothing else matters, not that it ever really did. Makki’s still around here somewhere, but he’s a big boy and can take care of himself. Issei doesn’t need to waste another thought on his friend tonight—not to say that an entire bakery may or may not be gifted to the Hanamaki residence tomorrow. Instead, he can focus entirely on you.

As though you haven’t been occupying the vast majority of his thoughts for the last three weeks.

You—you’re fucking perfect. The dress you’re wearing is a deep blood red, light catching on the silky fabric as you move through the crowd. Your hair and make-up are perfectly styled, enough to highlight the natural beauty held in your face without being overt or overpowering. Your eyes—so alive and rife with such emotion that you typically keep hidden away elsewhere.

Before he knows it, he’s standing before you, calling for you just loud enough for you to hear, and when you turn he swears he’s dead and traveled to some kind of afterlife. You’ve killed him, stopped his heart, ceased all coherent brain function. All that exists for him is the way your lips part in surprise, the way your eyes flash with recognition before settling on something just shy of happy, the way you step closer as your face is brightened with an easy and enticing smile.

Considering the man before you, the one who is little more than a stranger, a coworker, someone largely unfamiliar to you, you respond with an uneasy murmur of his family name, though he has every intention of fixing that.

The alcohol from earlier tempts him to make a move, to flirt with you until you’re back at his place while the rational part of him tells him to keep his cool, to avoid coming on too strong and frightening you. You make it impossibly hard when you step a little closer, when your touch turns casual, when your tone turns coquettish.

You… are flirting with him, right?

The rational part of him is trying to caution him, trying to get him to consider that you aren’t as inebriated as you appear. The alcohol—quickly winning out—is asking whether it even matters when Issei’s acting, too. It’s not as though you’re the only one with secrets. Either way, if you give him a chance, the two of you can explore those secrets together.

“I can honestly say that I wasn’t expecting to see you here tonight,” you admit.

Glancing towards the crowd, his gaze lands on Makki flirting with an ease that makes Issei jealous. Putting his friend out of his mind—again—he flashes you a charming smile, not missing the way your eyes follow the line of his lips. “If I had known you were interested in places like this, I would have asked you to join me. Good thing you’re here anyway.”

He can pretend it’s casual interest, pretend that it’s in the realm of normal, that he didn’t stalk you to find you here. He can pretend to be a socially acceptable version of him if it gets him you. He’ll be whatever he has to be to get you.

“Oh? And why is that?” you purr, eyes flickering across his face as though you’re seeing him for the first time. Hell, perhaps you are.

Extending his hand to you, he answers, “Because I can’t help but enjoy a good mystery. So? Whaddya say—care to join me for a dance?”

Your answering smile is blinding and he swears that you’re lighting him on fire when you slip your hand into his. “If you’re good on your feet, I’ll give you more than a dance.”

This can’t be real. He has to be dead, dreaming, drugged, something because it’s too good to be real. But if this is the start of an afterlife, if this is nothing more than the fantastical firing of neurons to send him off, then he’s absolutely okay with dying, okay with living out this dream, okay with this high he’s chasing.

Because fuck if your skin doesn’t feel like silk and your voice doesn't sound like sin as he starts to explore the landscape of your body to find out everything he can. He wants to know where to kiss to have you whine, breathy and wanton, where to bite to have you moan, salacious and shameless, where to caress to send shivers running down your spine. Fuck if he hasn’t found his new favorite pastime, his new favorite drug.

Beyond experiencing you, experiencing the taste of you, drowning in the familiar scent of white gardenia, feeling you under his fingertips, watching the expressions of pleasure that flit across your face, beyond the potency of that, you’re giving him just as much as he’s giving you. You’re just as dedicated to mapping out the lines of his body as he is yours, just as intent on leaving your mark, on leaving no part of him untouched or unloved.

Your soft moans fill his bedroom as your fingers tangle in his hair. His mouth works to unravel you, to devour you, to leave you with nothing but his name on your tongue and pleasure that courses throughout your being. He teases you, intentionally avoiding where you want him most, moving from your pretty little lips to the inside of your hip, determined to leave his mark as he sinks his teeth into the soft skin.

He cuts off the harsh cry of his family name with two fingers, instantly pleased by the obedient way you close your lips and start swirling your tongue around them. Pulling away from your drooling cunt, he props himself up to make eye contact with you, almost lost in how fucking destitute you look beneath him.

“The only name I want to hear you call is ‘Issei.’ Understood?” Even with the limited lighting provided by his shitty fucking lamp, he can see the way your pupils dilate as you nod. The corners of your lips quirk upward as you continue sucking around his fingers, causing a wicked grin of his own. “Good girl.”

You hum, increasing suction before he pulls his fingers out of your mouth with a slick pop!, shuffling back down the bed until he’s level with your pussy, until his fingers dig into your thighs, pulling them apart and leaving you wide open for him to dive in.

There isn’t a single part of him that doesn’t love this, that doesn’t relish in each noise, each whimper and gasp and breathless expletive that escapes you as he commits the taste and feel of you to memory. His cock throbs, aches for relief and he nearly cums the first time your lips shape his given name, the sinful start of a prayer to a deity unbeknownst to him. Instead, he rewards you with a low groan, with vibrations against your clit as he releases your thigh to tease your entrance with his finger before pushing in.

Already, you’re trembling, close—whether an indicator of any alcohol you may have consumed earlier or raw desire and attraction, he doesn’t know. Truly? He doesn’t give a shit. By the end of tonight, he wants for you to be marked up, wants for your only thought to be of him, wants for you to indisputably be his, ruined for anyone else. He had thought that tonight would be enough, would be a good first step, but that was before he had a taste, before he heard the siren’s call that is his name falling from those perfect lips.

He’s exceedingly, categorically, unconditionally, disgustingly yours and nothing is going to get in the way of making you his.

The first time you cum, it’s with a sharp cry, the drawn out call of his name, the plea for more, something he’s more than happy to oblige. He slips a second finger into your cunt and replaces his tongue with his thumb, wanting to watch you come unraveled by his fingers, playing you like a finely tuned instrument, creating a symphony just for him.

“Fuck, you’re so beautiful,” he murmurs, eyes trained on the furrowing of your brows, the soft puckering of your lips, the thin layer of sweat that shimmers across your chest in the low light. “I’ve waited so long for this.” Increasing the pressure he applies on your clit, he rocks his fingers against your g-spot, feeling every minute reaction you give him—the shudder that passes through your body, the quivering of your thighs, the trembling of your walls.

Leaning forward, he captures your lips in a searing kiss, one immediately deepened by you as you anchor yourself to him with both arms wrapping around his shoulders. Tears start to gather in the corners of your eyes as he breathes the command, “C’mon and cum for me, pretty girl. I’m nowhere near done with you, yet.”

His name has never sounded better than as a breathless invocation blanketed in the silk of your voice.

Issei’s body aches as consciousness starts to pull at him following the soft click of a door shutting somewhere in his apartment. His apartment is dark, though there are the reluctant beginnings of the day struggling to break through the curtains that cover his windows, telling him it’s too damn early for him to be up on a Saturday. Rolling to his side, he grabs his phone to confirm that which he already knows only to find a ragged crack that crosses his screen.

The tiny fractures of glass remind him of the night before, of the reason behind his newfound soreness, of the fact that his bed is empty, save for him. Memories from the night before come in like shattered glimpses, struggling to be pieced together to create the whole.

Finding you at the club, flirty and gregarious, eager to please him and play with him. Leaving with you, whispering all of the things he wanted to do to you, with you with your responses being much more salacious. Stumbling through the apartment building, stopping every couple of steps because he couldn’t keep his hands off of you. The frantic removal of clothes, resulting in the flinging of his phone from his jacket pocket and the distinct don’t worry about it—focus on me.

Body slow to react while his mind tries to urge him to move faster, to find you because he finally had you, he stumbles from bed like a fool, legs tangled in bedding. He’s never been so desperate, hates that there’s something indescribable about you that has him reacting like this, that has him obsessing over you worse than one of Oikawa’s high school fangirls.

It doesn’t matter, it doesn’t matter, it doesn’t matter not when you’re his, when he made you come in rapid succession, when he had you calling his name as reverently as he whispered yours, when you fit so perfectly against him. You’re his and he’s a fool for letting you go, regardless of the reason behind his preoccupation.

The corridor is empty, stairwell quiet, no trace of you in the building save for the lingering smell of you in his apartment. Anger bubbles under his skin, directed completely inward as he chucks his useless phone somewhere in his apartment, struggling to push away the remnants of sleep that tug at his mind.

It’s not as though he doesn’t know your schedule, know which cafe you’re likely to attend for lunch, not as though he can’t arrange another “accidental” run-in. He hates this, hates you, hates this glaring weakness at the mere thought of you, of losing you.

All of this—it’s disgusting and pathetic and immediately wiped from his mind upon entering the bathroom and seeing the message you left on his mirror.

Last night was fun. Thanks.

If anything, this cements the hold you have on his heart, the realization that you enjoy him as much as he does you, that you’re his.

His gaze shifts beyond your message, settling on the angry reds and purples that litter across his body. Some are accompanied by the lovely little outline of your teeth-marks still impressed upon his skin, somewhere in the process of scabbing over. Others are messy and disorganized, like you couldn’t keep yourself from wandering. Beautiful constellations mapped across his pale skin, etched together by the angry red scratches of your manicured nails. They serve as proof—proof that you were here, that you mean those words scribbled in red before him, that he’s right to pursue you.

Issei’s fingers absentmindedly trace the delicate line you left when you were grinding in his lap, only to be pulled from his reverie by steady knocking. Pulling on a dirty shirt, he’s prepared to tell whoever’s at the door to—with varying degrees of propriety—cordially fuck off.

At least, that’s the plan until he sees Takahiro darkening his doorway with a slightly alarmed expression.

His friend’s eyes flicker to Issei’s unusual state of dishevelment, to the bruises visible beyond the confines of his shirt. “What the hell happened to you? You disappeared last night without so much as a text,” Takahiro complains, pushing his way past Issei in his determination to reach the kitchen, something which speaks to his general state of unease.

“I ran into her at the club and we came back here. What’s got your panties in a bunch?”

Takahiro shoots him a baleful glare, responding with an annoyed and succinct, “Fuck you.”

“Maybe another time. Seriously, Makki,” Issei presses, watching as his friend rifles through ingredients, setting up the prep space as though it were his. Years of watching Makki stress cook almost has him feeling guilty for shrugging this off, but his attention is still caught on the memory he has of you, spread out beneath him with that blissful smile painted across your face.

“You—you haven’t seen the news, have you?” He glances behind him to where Issei’s leaning against the wall, eyes pausing at the raised eyebrow that silently urges him on. “Fuck. Eh… I guess after you guys had left, there were some guys upstairs that had heart attacks. Even the asshole bouncers out front weren’t feeling too good by the time I slipped out, but it’s all over the news. I’m surprised you haven’t heard anything about it.”

Weird, as far as shit goes, but maybe he’s desensitized to things such as this, dealing with the dead on a near daily basis. The whole spectacle of death has lost its meaning for Issei. Impossible not to, considering the work he does, especially after his workload has doubled since his supervisor’s prolonged absence.

“I’m fine and you’re fine, and it’s not as though cardiac arrest is contagious,” Issei shrugs, pushing away the inclination to grab his phone and peruse through the news before doing the same with his socials, a staple in his routine marred by the cracked screen.

“Eh, true, but the NIID is conducting an investigation separate from the police.” Takahiro’s voice tapers off, allowing for Issei to notice the minute tremor in his hand. “I think we should talk to the—”

“We are not going to the police,” Issei snaps, harsher than he had intended, but it doesn’t help that Makki’s anxiety is starting to feed into Issei’s worry over you. “We didn’t do anything wrong and it’s not our fault they had heart attacks. Besides, what are we going to say? We snuck into a club but didn’t do anything? We’ll just look like suspects. There’s nothing to connect us to last night.”

“Yeah, but—”

“But nothing. If we go and talk to the police, it’ll make us look like suspects, right? We weren’t on the list but we still managed to get inside. Wouldn’t that strike you as suspicious if it were your investigation?”

The sizzling of the first ingredients falling into the pan quickly fills the space between them, loud and crackling, giving both men the opportunity to retreat within themselves.

This entire situation bothers him. His broken phone, your disappearance, Makki’s anxiety, some unrelated bullshit at an overrated club. All of it is so loud and obnoxious and unnecessary, mere obstacles in the way of what he wants.

And what he wants is you, pliant and willing and calling out his name as his fingers tighten around your throat just before you cum. He wants the chance to experience more of you—all of you—here and real, more than the imprinted memory of the wolfsbane and oleander flowers so intricately inked into the inside of your thigh.

Perhaps it’s that which drives him to ignore logic, to push aside overrated concepts of morality, to start considering what had once been nothing more than an errant little thought. He won’t know for certain until after he sees you again come Monday.

Haikyuu!! Masterlist

#matsukawa issei x reader #matsukawa x reader #haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #🍁.in this together #🏐.haikyuu!!#✒.ix writes #✒.in this together

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scuttle-buttle · 3 years

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Psychopathia Sexualis - Chapter 1

Sequel to The Interpretation of Dreams

Pairing: Modern AU Professor Laszlo Kreizler x Fem!Reader

Summary: After experiencing a whirlwind enemies-turned-lovers romance with the imposing Professor Laszlo Kreizler, things have been wonderful for you. Your studies are coming along, work is enjoyable, and you are in a stable relationship with the man you believe to be the love of your life. Suddenly, everything threatens to come crashing down with the arrival of a face from the past. Will jealousy and desire consume you and destroy the love you finally found?

WC: 1116

Rated: M (will increase in later chapters)

Chapter Tags: domestic fluff, age difference, technically student/teacher relationship, mentions of daddy kinks & sugar daddies

🧠

Time passed quickly since the day you and the doctor finally admitted your feelings for each other. After that you were practically inseparable. You resumed work as his TA, only occasionally getting distracted, but the term was over after a few short weeks anyway. You had agreed to keep everything rather low key, so as not to encourage the wrath of the university. There was no actual rule against graduate students coupling with professors. Nevertheless, the practice was often frowned upon, and you didn’t want Laszlo to get in trouble. If anyone asked, you were just ‘friendly coworkers that sometimes ate meals together after work’. Most didn't pay attention to you anyway since you weren't friends with any underclassmen. Despite the fifteen year age difference you were both on the same page with the seriousness of the relationship. You knew how you felt about each other.

Sara and John found out right away. Because they had expected it to happen anyway there was no reason to hide it from them. The two were beyond happy for you. Whether Laszlo had noticed John slip a twenty dollar bill into Sara’s hand after the admission you’ll never know; at your raised brow John just shrugged and said that it was "about damn time". Bitsy was equally as delighted for you. She wouldn’t admit it, but she was also glad you would be out of the house more often so that she could spend time with her own boyfriend, Lucius.

Now, you are laying on your Laszlo’s bed scrolling through social media. The wintery weather outside his bedroom window gives you a chill despite the warmth of the fireplace he has burning. You were still not over just how nice his place was. It was in a rather upscale part of town and was roughly three times the size of your place. The townhouse style was similar in fashion to his office at the university - full of dark ornate wood and books and even a chandelier in the foyer. When you had asked how he afforded something like this in the heart of the city, he had just said a wealthy great uncle or other had left it in the family. With Laszlo being the only surviving member he inherited it.

Your love was getting himself ready in the bathroom. He had a department meeting to attend on campus in an hour. Tomorrow the new spring term would begin, and you were to resume your post as his TA. An errant thought crosses your mind as you admire the expensive looking painting hung on his wall.

“Laz?”

“Yes, Bärchen?” his response echoes in the large bathroom. You smile at the nickname, little bear. He’d given it to you because he said your presence was like that of a bear, ready to fight to protect herself and those she cared about.

“Are you my sugar daddy?” You can see his reflection in the mirror. He looks scandalized by the implications of your question.

“What would prompt you to ask that?” A blush forms on the apples of his cheeks.

“I mean think about it, I spend time with you - an older, exceedingly handsome, wealthy man - and in return I get orgasms and nice things.” Truth is, you are joking entirely, you know the relationship is conventional. You just like to watch him squirm with teasing like this.

He walks into the bedroom and picks his sweater off the bed next to you. “You're teasing me," he accuses with a grin. "I hardly think it can be considered as that sort of arrangement when you get paid because you are employed to work for me. It is merely happenstance that the other characteristics should parallel themselves to that of a…” he searches for the words, “financial benefactor.” You laugh at his unwillingness to say ‘sugar daddy’. “As for the orgasms…” he smirks and drops a kiss to your head.

He finishes dressing as you bury yourself under the duvet. “What are your plans while I’m detained?”

“I don’t know, figured I would just take it easy today. I need to be well rested for my first day at work tomorrow - I hear some pretty ruthless things about this German doctor I’m going to be working with.” You get off the bed and wrap your arms around Laszlo’s waist. “But I don't know, I think I’ll like the guy.” He leans in to give you a chaste kiss.

Checking his watch he sees that he needs to leave lest he be late for the meeting. “You’re welcome to stay here while I’m gone. It shouldn’t be more than an hour or two at most. Perhaps we will go to Delmonicos for dinner to celebrate the beginning of a new term.”

“Sounds great, daddy,” you wink. Normally you didn’t tease him this much, but you were in a playful mood.

He rolls his eyes. “Remind me why it is that I tolerate you?”

“‘Cause you love me,” you retort with a broad smile.

He brings your hand up, kissing the back of it as he turns to leave. Softly he whispers “Indeed I do.”

Laszlo fiddles with the pen in his hand. The upcoming semester was no different than previous ones. He had stopped taking ‘notes’ long ago as the head of the department continued to drone on. Laszlo would admit, the meeting had drawn on longer than anticipated and he had lost focus on the last few minutes. He would rather be at home in your company than here.

“Before we end the meeting I do have one last exciting announcement - many of you have been around long enough to remember, but we are pleased to be welcoming back Dr. Stratton as a visiting professor this semester!” the department head cheered. At the mention of a Dr. Stratton Laszlo perked up.

“Dr. Karen Stratton will be conducting outside research in the city, so I have asked that she grace us with her presence in teaching an elective on her speciality: sexual deviancy. Unfortunately, she is on a flight to the states as we speak, otherwise I know she would be here to greet you all herself.”

Karen was coming to New York?

The thought excited him, as he hadn’t seen her since he moved to the States four years ago. He and Karen had followed each other's work for years before meeting at a symposium in Vienna almost six years prior. The two remained close until he accepted the current position and fell out of touch.

Meeting over, Laszlo sent you a text to be ready for Delmonico’s when he got home. He had much to look forward to this term.

Tag list

@hardlyinteresting @lorna-d-m @livvyshmiv @somethingthatsaysbubbles @greeneyedblondie44 @unbeatablecurlgirl @apparrio @marchingicenotes7 @anteroom-of-death @bruhidaniel @lemairepstuff @thehuiabird @zemosimp05 @alindeluce @iamnotthecatladynextdoor @laura-naruto-fan1998 @trelaney @boneheadduluc @i-am-dead-inside-666 @fictionlandslanddreams @thatoneartgalsstuff @hb8301 @fandom-princess-forevermore @foggycandywitch

#Psychopathia Sexualis #the interpretation of dreams #laszlo kreizler x reader #laszlo x reader #laszlo kreizler #laszlo kreizler x reader smut #modern laszlo kreizler #professor laszlo kreizler au #the alienist #the alienist angel of darkness #daniel brühl #daniel bruhl #daniel bruhl laszlo kreizler #laszlo kreizler fanfic #scuttle-buttle

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addictedtostorytelling · 2 years

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Do you think Sara and Grissom are a lot more public with their relationship after they both left. Like with people they meet in Costa Rica, France and when out on the boat? I know they were super private with the team cause they were keeping the secret and after they went public, I imagine it was awkward being around the guys together. However they don't have to hide/ be awkward around new people.

hi, anon!

i've got some meta on this subject (or at least kind of adjacent to it) here, if you're interested.

to add on to those thoughts:

i do think that at least initially grissom and sara are more open with new acquaintances regarding their relationship than they are with their old friends. however, i also think that the longer they're together, the more comfortable they get with being a couple in front of the ol' gang.

of course, it's worth noting, just to start out, that when i use that phrase "more comfortable," i'm speaking relatively, as even at their most open, grissom and sara are still plenty private about their relationship. whether with strangers or friends, at the start of their secret dating phase or after years of marriage, they're just never going to be the kind of couple who shares a helluva lot about their private life with others.

see, for example, how vague sara's answer is when max asks her what she's been doing for the last few years in reboot episode 01x01 "legacy."

more thoughts after the "keep reading," if you're interested.

obviously, when grissom and sara first start officially dating in vegas, between 2005 and 2007, they do so in secret, so as not to incur any professional penalties for going against departmental policy.

so for the first two years they're together, even if they want to share information about their relationship with their friends, they can't—or at least not without rocking the proverbial boat.

during this time, whether or not they're open about their relationship with acquaintances, friends, or family they might have outside of work—like, say, betty or their neighbors at their condo complex—we don't know.

it's possible that they are, but it's also possible that they lead a pretty secluded life just in general, not really talking to anyone about their business.

since csi as a show is overwhelmingly focused on its characters' work lives, we don't exactly see a lot of examples of grissom and sara talking to anyone but their coworkers about their relationship at any point during the full run of the original series, whether it be during the secret dating years, their engagement between s8 and s9, or when sara returns to vegas as a married woman during the later seasons.

that said, the few examples that we do see suggest that they are perhaps more open about their relationship with strangers and new acquaintances than they are with their old friends, at least to start out with.

one illuminating example comes from episode 08x06 "who & what," when grissom is talking in his office with fbi special agent jack malone and sara appears, looking to check-in with him as she's been called into work early for her (swing) shift. though they don't necessarily discuss anything super revealing about their relationship at this time, as i talk about here,

when sara walks into grissom’s office and jack is there, she doesn’t think twice about saying that she’s taken care of her and grissom's son gotten hank to the sitter’s, even though her doing so clearly intimates that she and grissom have some kind of involvement in each other’s personal lives beyond just that of being coworkers; she’s not concerned about covering the fact that she and grissom are life partners.

likewise, when jack asks about hank and sara’s role in caring for him after sara makes her exit, grissom also doesn’t do much to obscure the fact that he and sara are together. while he stops short of actually saying, “sara is my fiancée, but she works a different shift than i do, so sometimes we have to make childcare arrangements coordinate our schedules while we’re at the lab,” he does admit to the fact that they interact outside of their jobs and doesn’t deny the existence of their relationship when jack makes his quip about “dating in the workplace.”

i mean, he’s not about to open up to jack about his and sara’s relationship status or invite the guy to their wedding or anything, but he’s also not going to dodge jack’s assumptions or try to burying the implications of his and sara’s exchange in the same way that he might have done before their relationship became public knowledge.

along similar lines, in episode 12x18 "malice in wonderland," when a person-of-interest asks sara if she's married and if so if she finds being married special, she answers in the affirmative on both counts, offering insight into her feelings to someone she's only just met.

though in both of these cases, grissom and sara are still far from effusive about their relationship with these relative strangers, they are willing to engage in a somewhat more open candor with them than they seemingly are with their work friends, at least to start out with.

—which probably makes sense, given that for a long time, they are obliged to not only passively "keep quiet" about their relationship to said work friends but to be actively deceiving to them about it.

for as much as they hate to lie (see episode 07x13 "redrum"), in order to prevent the truth about their relationship from coming out at work, they have to take active measures to dupe their coworkers and superiors, staggering their arrivals and departures to and from the lab, not having anyone over to their place for social calls, in all likelihood maintaining the lease on sara's old apartment even though they're living together in the condo (so as to have an alternative address for her they can feed to hr), etc., etc.

their "secret dating" arrangement takes work on their parts.

it's something they have to really commit to in order to make it viable.

given how ingrained some of these habits likely become for them, it's little surprise that though their relationship is made public knowledge at the lab at the end of s7, they still don't necessarily become "open books" to their friends after that point.

the only real changes between how they comport themselves when they are secretly dating and how they comport themselves once they're "out" are that sara starts calling grissom "gil" at work (see episode 08x06 "who & what"), they sometimes check in on each other during times when their shifts happen to overlap (see episodes 08x06 "who & what" and 08x07 "goodbye & good luck"), they occasionally pick each other up or drop each other off from their scenes (see episode 08x03 "go to hell"), and they will sometimes attend social events "as a couple" (see episode 08x02 "a la cart").

however, those changes are mostly to their visible behavior, not to their level of disclosure to the people around them with regards to their relationship—which remains as minimal as it had ever been, even though they have no more official reason to remain so tight-lipped.

as we see throughout s8, both grissom and sara still tend to dodge questions about the particulars of how and when they first got together (see, for example, their respective interviews with ecklie in episode 08x02 "a la cart" and the deleted catherine and grissom scene from episode 08x12 "grissom's divine comedy"), avoid engaging in overt pda, and generally don't act markedly different in each other's presence around their coworkers than what we'd seen from them in the past. they still keep their home life together generally private. in fact, they don't even announce their engagement to their friends and work family after it happens (see episode 08x04 "the case of the cross-dressing carp").

this discretion on their parts may somewhat just be habit—because, after all, they have spend the entirety of their vegas relationship prior to s8 trying to conceal their relationship from a bunch of trained observers—but i think a lot of it is also just them.

they both seem to feel that their relationship is really nobody's business but their own, to the extent where they keep private even the genuinely banal parts of their dynamic—including the kinds of things that most other longtime couples see no issue talking about in any kind of company.

it's not just that they don't broadcast the details of their sex life; they also won't mention when their anniversary is or explain how they divide up the household chores or tell the story of how they fell asleep in front of the tv watching roy rogers reruns on their last shared night off together.

when it comes to the economy of information surrounding their relationship, just about all they are comfortable with the people around them knowing is the fact that they are together in itself.

beyond that, they really don't fill in any blanks.

of course, even beyond old habits and their personal inclinations, i also think there is, as you alluded to in your ask, anon, another factor in why they don't talk about their relationship with their coworkers: i.e., just because of the sheer fucking awkwardness of it.

for one thing, they lied about their relationship for so long that there would be a lot to unpack—probably too much to unpack, really—if they opened the door to those kinds of conversations.

while the show never gives us any indication that any of the members of team graveyard are actually upset about grissom and sara having deceived them all for so long, that's not to say that there aren't any hard feelings about it overall, much less that grissom and sara aren't scared that there could be.

after all, in the months leading up to sara's abduction, both nick and warrick express sentiments to her that would suggest that being lied to by their coworkers over a period of years is something that would upset them (see episode 07x13 "redrum"), and catherine has long been vocal about disapproving of "fishing off of the company pier" (see episode 06x03 "bite me"). that so, though the show never presents anyone as actually being upset with grissom and sara after their relationship becomes known, it's not a foregone conclusion that nobody was or at least that nobody could've been.

honestly, both the nature of their "coming out" and the timeline after they do so probably shield them from some potentially negative reactions from their friends.

when grissom first makes the revelation that sara is the only person he's ever loved in episode 07x24 "living doll," there's no time for anybody to be angry with him because they're all worried about sara and trying to save her from almost certain death. then, even in the aftermath of her rescue, there's still not a particularly opportune time to sit down and air grievances because sara is in the hospital and then she and grissom are just gone for four and half months as she recovers from her injuries and he cares for her at home.

based on comments they make in episode 08x02 "a la cart," it seems like no one on the team has much contact with either grissom or sara while they're away from the lvpd—and even if they do, it's still not like they're going to berate them at that point, considering that only a few months have passed since sara almost died (and she still has the cuts all over her face and a broken arm to prove as much) and also that they'd have to seek them out at home to even have that kind of conversation.

not until october would team graveyard really have the chance to even see grissom and sara in a more natural setting—and by then, the moment's already passed. they're all just kind of glad to see sara up and about and have grissom back at the lab with them, so if there are still any bruised feelings, they just get buried; nobody dares to bring them up.

and grissom and sara know better than to mess with that outcome, so they're not about to raise the issue if nobody else does.

moreover, for another thing, they're also inclined to stay quiet because they're not interested in inviting the kinds of awkward questions and comments they'd inevitably be faced with if they gave people permission to start broaching the subject with them.

for as much as they don't want to have to explain all the ways in which they were dishonest, they also don't want to have to talk about the things they consider truly private.

before people knew they were dating, everyone had these conceptions of them, but once they come out, those conceptions are challenged in ways that they know will inevitably make folks curious.

most of their friends either viewed grissom as entirely sexless or a closeted kinkster, so the fact that he has a girlfriend at all is going to be surprising to some of them, and the fact that that girlfriend isn't heather is going to be surprising to others, and the fact that that girlfriend is sara is going to be surprising to everyone.

meanwhile, sara's spent the last few years as the quintessential "girl at the office." plenty of the fellas at the lab have themselves nursed crushes on her (e.g., greg, super dave, detective evans from s1), and even those who haven't (e.g., nick and warrick) know that she has many peer-aged guys lined up, interested in dating her. everyone is aware of hank peddigrew and figures that he must be her type—hunky, all-american, outgoing. sure, she's been "hot for teacher" with grissom the whole time she's been in vegas, but nobody really expected her to end up dating him. they all just figured it was a schoolgirl crush on her part, and probably unrequited. that she actually chose him over someone more her own age and more of the "traditional boyfriend" model is, frankly, shocking.

looking at grissom and sara, their peers are going to wonder all sorts of things, like what they see in each other and how much their working dynamic figures into their romantic dynamic (or doesn't). they're going to be curious about how they met and the circumstances under which they first got together* and what their living situation is like and how serious they are.

* and of course since grissom and sara's getting-together story is very much entwined with sara's backstory, that's something grissom and sara would be especially loath to talk about openly.

they're also, of course, going to have questions about the sex, which is the last thing in the world that grissom and sara would actually want to discuss with anyone besides each other.

that so, grissom and sara are going to do everything in their power to keep from encouraging people's curiosity—to make it clear that not only is what happens in their bedroom off-limits, but so is everything that happens between them outside of the professional activities they take part in together at work.

so they don't talk about their relationship with their friends, even once doing so is no longer verboten to them.

—at least not initially.

not in s8 and not in s9.

only come s10, when sara returns to the lab after she and grissom are married, do things ever-so-slowly start to change in that regard.

as i talk about in the post linked at the beginning of this meta,

when sara shows up in vegas at the start of s10, she finds herself in a position she’s never been in before, which is that not only is her relationship known but it’s also more “forward-facing” than it’s ever been.

she’s been spending every day for the last nine+ months with grissom, and everything that’s going on with her is tied up in him. whereas she used to have two connected but ultimately partitioned identities—one professional and one private, only the former of which was ever fully visible to her teammates—now her identities have merged.

[she's mrs. grissom, and everyone knows as much.

that so,] the part of her life which had always, even after she and grissom initially “came out,” been hidden from her coworkers—the part where she and grissom are stupidly in love with each other and much softer and more attached than anyone could imagine—is now something they have at least partial access to, much more so than they ever have before.

while sara still isn't 100% open about her and grissom's private life even once they're married, she is much more willing to talk about it than she ever has been to this point.

marriage is a public declaration by its nature, and so she seems to understand that trying to completely conceal all information about her and grissom's marriage from their friends is an exercise in futility. whether she says anything or not, people are going to know that her and grissom's lives are merged in particular ways—so she might as well just cop to the stuff she's willing to discuss.

to that end, she'll admit to catherine that she and grissom watch baseball together (see episode 10x01 "family affair") and joke with brass about taking grissom's last name (see episode 10x02 "ghost town") and even hassle nick, in her capacity as grissom's wife, about whether or not he's allowed to refer to grissom by his first name (see episode 11x03 "blood moon"), all of which things are the kinds of "windows in" that she never would have given her teammates with regards to her and grissom's home life previously.

of course, she's still not comfortable talking about the most private parts of their relationship—see how horrified she is when hodges starts wildly speculating about her and grissom's sex life in episode 11x13 "the two mrs. grissoms”—or being super forthcoming with specifics on how she and grissom spend their time together.

she's also definitely not—under any circumstances!—going to talk about any marital problems she and grissom encounter.

—which is how she eventually ends up getting a whole-ass divorce without any of her coworkers knowing that she's done so until several weeks after the fact.

even once the divorce becomes public knowledge during the events of episode 13x15 "forget me not," her mo is not say more than she absolutely has to about it—not to her old friends like nick and greg (whom she doesn't want to put in the position of "having to choose sides" between her and grissom), and not to her new friends like finn and morgan (whom she couldn't bear to unburden her soul to in the way she'd need to to really explain what happened).

she then subsequently stays quiet about her lingering feelings for grissom (even in the wake of the divorce) and her desire to reconcile with him for another two and a half years before he returns to vegas during the events of "immortality."

at this point, neither one of them talks openly to their work friends about their situation—which is that they're both still madly in love with each other, even after everything, and want to get back together, though they each fear that the other person doesn't want the same—but grissom does disclose to heather his continued love for sara and his sense of loss at not being with her, which opens the door for his and sara's reunion at the end of the original series.

when next we see grissom and sara at the start of the reboot, their level of disclosure with their old friends has seemingly undergone another degree of evolution.

as we see from their in-person interactions with brass and hodges and their text message interactions with catherine, they are, now that they're remarried and living in the same place together, more forthcoming with their found family than they've ever been regarding their relationship before.

at this point, they do everything as a couple, and they do it openly. they're comfortable talking to hodges about their "garage" and game-planning with brass about the case while talking in terms of "we" and letting catherine put them up as a couple in her luxury hotel. it's just a given that they're together, and they don't seem to have any special qualms about acting like the couple they are in public, even in front of their oldest friends.

there's really no noticeable difference, in terms of how they perform their couple-yness, between how they engage with old friends like brass, hodges, and catherine versus how they do so with new acquaintances like max, allie, folsom, and hugo. they're just as likely to refer directly to their marriage, just as likely to acknowledge elements of their shared life, just as likely to be affectionate, etc. between either social group.

and how open they are just in general!

almost every other word they say is "my husband" this or "my wife" that. they're constantly talking about each other, even sharing insight into their relationship dynamics with total strangers.

while in previous stages of their relationship (like during s8-s9 and s10-13 of the original show), their relationship was something that they mostly kept "between the lines," now it's main text, all the way.

so.

all of the above is to say that while i think it's a good bet that grissom and sara are much more open about their relationship with strangers and new acquaintances who've only ever known them as a couple—like the people they meet in costa rica and france and on their seafaring adventures—to start out with, by the time of their remarriage, they're also equally open with everyone about their relationship, including their dear old friends from whom they previously concealed so much.

certainly, learning to be open with their old friends is a process and something that very much does not come naturally to them at first, but i believe that especially in the wake of sara walking off of her job to follow grissom to california and them getting remarried*, they largely leave whatever hang-ups they had before about being themselves in front of their friends behind them.

* for all we know, team graveyard may have even been at the wedding.

while they’ll never become a fountain of information about themselves to anyone because to do so wouldn’t be their style, from the point of this last reunion forward, they are generally unapologetic about being together.

thanks for the question! please feel welcome to send another at any time.

#answered #anon #asks: csi #**#my meta #meta: csi #meta: gsr #let's talk shop #csiverse

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frogsandfries · 4 years

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Our society is so myopic

Which is ironic because I wear glasses.

But what I mean is, I can't stop thinking about the conversation I had on my lunch. My coworker asked if I got the job at the one place, and I said, no, I think my uncertainty got in my way. She said she interviewed there to cashier and they said she wasn't qualified for the job, when that's all she's done since she's been working. She said (at least a little bitterly) that she wouldn't work there anyway because one of the people who interviewed her was trans, and extra, y'know? I mentioned I think gender transitioning is the lobotomy of this century, and that people only feel like they need to entirely, visually change their gender so they can be the right gender, but if there was less emphasis on genitals, and more on you as an individual, and more acceptance of things like men being carers and nurturers.

She said, it's not right, that she'd rather a woman looked after her son. I mentioned that women can be just as creepy as men--think those female teachers who "seduce" their high school or middle school male students. She mentioned priests, that you don't hear of a lot of girls being messed with by priests.

An opportunity opened up for me to bring up my favourite bible fact, the oft abused "thou shalt not lie with man". I'm strongly camp "the bible in its most original form doesn't give a shit about homosexuality".

And this is what I'm here for tonight:

The greater context

The ancient Greeks were so gay, their society failed. Yes, I know I'm greatly, massively exaggerating. But the Greeks were equally, massively gay. Unless I'm conflating them with the Romans, who were also So Gay ™. But seriously, the Greeks were so gay, they had standards for a beautiful penis, see the Adonis or any other nude, male, ancient Greek sculpture. They slathered athletes in oil and collected and treasured that sweaty oil. Only men could be athletes.

Beyond that, there are more cultures than just Christianity, and they have different opinions than Christians. I literally cannot cite my sources because when I Google "bum boy" all I get are rants about baggy pants and when I Google "silk road" all I get are articles about that scam that happened and I do not know how to use Google better. Edit: Nor, apparently, DDG. My point is, I remember reading somewhere that they would take "boys", whether that meant slaves or actually pre/pubescent boys, on ships or voyages so that men could still have, y'know, a warm hole. I swear I remember reading this.

Anyway, we all know the bible is just a book. Christianity, we forget, is a very young religion, relatively speaking. It branched off from Judaism and only took off with the Roman empire. It's easy to imagine that outside of the confines of "society", such as on the Silk Road, or other such mercenary expeditions, it would've been easy to be who you really were--perhaps a pagan, or somebody who could care less about the Sabbath or what the bible said about mixing textiles.

Also, we should all remember that traditionally, for centuries, women were property and marriage was a business transaction. No one married for love, and the more I learn about history, the more realistic it seems to believe that a) pre-industrial revolution humans had more freetime, which means b) if they found love as we think of it, they would just pursue it because that's just what you do. Additionally, for centuries, women have been going to war, men have been dressing up as women; men have been fucking men and women have been sexually satisfying each other because men just cannot be bothered.

Instead, we just lazily want to throw our hands in the air and blame Those Damn Liberals ™, because things used to be so much easier In the Olden Days™. We can't understand why the first generations to get married "for love" couldn't stay married. We can't understand why men want to fuck men and we can't accept that men have emotions and we can't accept that some men think they want to be women and some women think they want to be men. What's next, conservatives despair, humans wanting to be accepted for fucking children and animals?! Um, no. Those things are not acceptable in a world where we know children are not small adults, but rather developing brains inside of tiny bodies. And it's never really anywhere in the world been acceptable to fuck animals.

I'm losing all track of my thoughts.

Another point I want to bring up is that manufactured beds as we think of them are also a modern convenience, and historically, the bed might have been entirely "manufactured" by the woman--from harvesting and spinning the fibers, to weaving the cloth, harvesting the filling, and maintaining the tension. That was her bed, insofar as it was the place for conceiving children. Not fucking your neighbor Bob.

The more things change, the more they stay the same. The institutional inferiority of black people was invented and exacerbated by the slave culture of the United States, but we're slowly fighting to change that. The United States was the birth place of marriage for love, for the sake of selling diamonds, but that's some bullshit that only took the internet to crumble. Speaking of the internet, the internet is how we know there are centuries of records of men dressing like women, women dressing like women, men loving men and women loving women.

But our culture is so myopic, we don't want to fully imagine history. We don't want to imagine real people; we want to imagine a vignette that looks how we imagine it should. History is so intangible to people who are incurious and want to be spoonfed only what they want to hear and nothing more.

So instead of working on my patterns, I've spent half an hour of my life attempting to research this post and an hour of my life writing it to complain that no one wants to imagine for a second that the social issues that are out in the open today aren't new.

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