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soundcrusher · 2 years

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Dreams and other things

Honestly, I wasn't sure if I would even write this after the day I had. But, writing for this story gives me enough happiness and sometimes is the highlight of my day. Sooooo...

Yea, part 8 of season 2 from my story set in the sentient SG/LL au from @cuppajj is out.

I hope everyone is going to enjoy this. ^^

Trigger warning: none

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Rodimus hated that turbofox. Ever since he found it yesterday, it just kept on staring at him as if it saw a ghost. Kind of like those Autobots he hunted and that one Decepticon he accidentally saved. What was his name again? Fulcrum? Yes, Rodimus was pretty sure that his name was Fulcrum. But what does it matter? They were already on their way towards the next planet, and the prime made sure that there were no tracks Thrillchaser or the DJD could follow.

But that also meant he was forced to spend his time together in a room with that damned turbofox. And, apparently, the mut got over his initial shock, because now he was always growling at him whenever Rodimus would even look in his general direction. However, the worst part was that the prime couldn’t even interact with his little brother as long as the turbofox was with him. Whenever Phoenix would be sitting at their table, reading a data-pad or listening to the radio, the turbofox would fix Rodimus with a glare that the prime knew all too well. It was the same glare he had seen on mechs who were accused of treason or those who defected and were caught.

Now that Rodimus was thinking about it, wasn’t there a mech who was a traitor and had a turbofox alt-mode? But this would surely be too much of a coincidence. Then again, he has seen many things in his life. Many coincidences were among them. Which meant, there could be more than meets the eye with the turbofox his brother picked up.

The prime let out a groan at the mere thought. Of course, his luck had to run out at one point, but why did it have to end now? Why did Primus and Unicron do this to him? Was it because of the things he’s done during the war? Was it because of the Decepticons he’s burned? Was it because he was amongst the Autobots who watched Dominus Ambus being domesticated and did nothing? No matter what it was, Rodimus was sure that the two gods were laughing at him now. And he couldn’t even kill the damned mut. No, not when he swore to never kill anyone, unless there was a reason to do so. And there was no reason. Also, how would Phoenix react to him getting rid of that damned turbofox?

Not good. Rodimus was sure of it. Phoenix would probably be devastated, if he should ever try anything. Also, hasn’t he already ruined Dominus’ life enough? If this turbofox truly was Dominus Ambus, then Rodimus owed him. And if he wasn’t, his hands were bound either way. Phoenix has taken a liking to him and Rodimus didn’t have the spark to take one of the very few friends the youngling had ever made. Even if it was a defector trapped in the ody of a turbofox.

“I’m really in it now, aren’t I?” Muttered the prime, as he made sure the ship was still on the right course. “What happened to the prime who didn’t care about others? He grew a softspot for a youngspark.”

Rodimus was pulled out of his musing, as he heard the door to the bridge open and close. “Roddy? Do you think that my nightmares might be trying to tell me something?” Asked his brother, as he sat down next to the captain's chair. Holding a data-pad in his servos.

“How did you come to that conclusion?” Asked the prime as he looked up from the console in front of him and down to the youngling. “Don’t tell me you read something that got you thinking.” After saying that, Rodimus could see how Phoenix averted his optics from his. “W-well….” Muttered the youngling quietly, while his wings slightly shook from embarrassment. “I was reading something, and it says that when two of the three components of yourself are fighting, the third will try to make the wishes of one of the fighting parts true, by either giving you dreams or neuroses. So, it got me thinking. What if my nightmares and fears are my subconscious trying to lessen my fears, or show me what my fears are, so that I could try working on lessening them. But that would also mean for me to take a look at my memories to determine which ones were the cataclysm for my fears. But I don’t want to do that, because I’m scared of remembering the things that happened.”

“Phoenix… give me that data-pad.” Said Rodimus and waited for Phoenix to give him the pad. Which the youngling did, reluctantly. Mostly because he didn’t want his brother to think that he was overthinking again, and also, because that was one of the data-pads he took with him from the Lost Light. Specifically, it was one from Rung’s office. Either way, Rodimus skimmed the text, before letting out a small scoff. Of course, it was one of Froid’s works. “Just because you have nightmares about Lightlost and the Lost Light, doesn’t mean that something is wrong with you, Phoenix.” The prime said, before handing Phoenix the data-pad back. “Do we have to have this talk again? There is nothing wrong with you. You’re fine. Yes, there might be an underlying issue, but it doesn’t mean that it has to do anything with your nightmares.”

“Still…” Muttered Phoenix, which caused Rodimus to let out a soft sigh, before getting up and pulling his brother back to their living space. Pushing the youngling into their dinette and getting something to eat. Pushing one plate towards Phoenix, while sitting down with his own. Never give the turbofox even one glanze. “Eat, you haven’t had anything the whole morning, and you tend to overthink when you’re hungry.” Said the prime and waited until his brother was eating, before starting himself. After that, Rodimus made sure their conversation was stirred towards a more lighthearted topic.

Yes, he knew that avoiding the issue would only work for so long, but Rodimus was no professional. He could help Phoenix hide a body or take out a mech in many different ways, but when it came to a healthy mind? By Primus, Rodimus could need some help himself. So, pushing the issue to the back was the only thing he could do, until they visited a planet housing a psychologist or made their way back to Cybertron.

“Okay, okay, okay. Seriously, Phoenix, you shame me for my preferences in a partner, but then you come and tell me you had a crush on someone who’s alt-mode was a flower?” Asked Rodimus in between laughter, which was met with an embarrassed screech from Phoenix. “They weren’t a flower! They were a mantis!” Yelled the youngling, while he tried to hide the plush forming on his cheeks. “Their alt-mode was a really cute mantis!” That admission only made Rodimus laugh harder. “So, you’re telling me that you had a crush on an insecticon who could turn into a mantis?”

“Don’t you dare judge me for my crush! My mother liked them!” Phoenix huffed and crossed his arms over his chestplate. Giving Rodimus one of his biggest pouts, which didn’t help the prime calm down. It only added fuel to the fire that was Rodimus’ laughter.

Although, Rodimus did stop once the turbofox fixed him with a glare that said ‘Continue laughing and I will bite you’ while it jumped up on the bench and sat down next to Phoenix. Yep, he should have left the turbofox behind. Dominus, or not, he was turning out to be worse than Ultra Magnus when it comes to fun. However, once the prime took a good look at his brother, he could see how upset the youngling truly was. Maybe he was taking his teasing a little bit too far.

“Why don’t you tell me about them?” Asked Rodimus after a while. Getting a suspicious look from Phoenix, before the kid started to talk about his crush. Telling him how they had met, how nice they were and how much fun he had whenever his crush was around. Although, after a while, Phoenix grew quieter, until his words were nothing more than mutters. “But they left. Their creators found another place to live at and I never saw them again… We did keep in contact through comms and such, but they eventually stopped responding… And then I boarded my crew's ship and ended up on the Lost Light.” The youngling sighed, before shaking his head and smiling. “But in their last comm, they told me that they had met a nice mech and started going out with him. So, they are at least happy.”

“And how do you feel about that?” Asked the prime.

“I’m okay with it. I mean… I knew that they would never want me as a boyfriend. Not with how I look, not that I don’t look good, but they would have been a target for… you know…” Phoenix said with a simple shoulder shrug. “Also, I was happy just being friends with them, because we were the best of friends. And I was happy with just spending time together, because I knew that I wouldn’t be allowed to have more than that. Mother was already getting looks wherever we went together. I didn’t want my only friend to have to go through the same.” Phoenix smiled at the last sentence. “Also, they were one of the few who saw me as me and not you. So, why should I care about that, as long as I get a friend to have fun with.”

Rodimus let out a chuckle. The innocence of this youngling was sometimes just too much. “Well, should you ever find your special someone to spend the rest of your life with, they’ll be the luckiest mech or femme in the whole galaxy.”

“Is that a compliment?” Asked Phoenix with a small smirk on his face. “I didn’t know you were capable of giving them out.”

“Only for your brother, only for you.”

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sukirichi · 4 months

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𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐓𝐎𝐎 𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐄 | 𝐒. 𝐑𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐮

— in which you and your fuck buddy pretend to date, which totally won’t lead to feelings at all, right?

content / warnings. toxic college settings. explicit smut. MINORS DNI. choking. exhibitionism. fingering. making out. masturbation. voyeurism. toxic characters. reverse cowgirl riding. implied dub-con. friends with benefits. fake dating. unedited.

dedicated to @kyriaan

The sixth beep of your phone that cursed morning had you shuffling around your bag for the device, fishing it out and muting it with exasperation. To no one’s surprise, he was the sole topic again. Oikawa this and Oikawa that — how he’d be such a great boyfriend to you and your friends could also go on dates with his equally charismatic friends; you were tired of hearing the same thing over and over again.

“Funny seeing you here,” a bored voice drawled out, the scraping of a chair against the floor snapping you to your senses. “Never in my whole life did I imagine I’d find you hiding in a library of all places — are you reading Freud? His theories are shit. They’re not even scientifically proven.”

You raised a brow at Suna Rintaro, your not-so friend friend.

You and Rintaro had a strict friends with benefits relationship.

It started with meeting at a party once when you needed a release from the stress of finals, you made out on the crowded dance floor and found yourselves tangled in the sheets with barely any memory of the night before. The rest was history. Soon, you ran into him more often than you’d expected, and it wasn’t long before you added his name into speed dial.

Funnily enough, you weren’t that close to him.

You either knew everything about him or knew little to nothing. Most of the time you spent with Rintaro would be when you two were drunk out of your minds, bodies too occupied with moving against one another that ‘getting to know each other’ had never been a thing.

For some reason, however, Rintaro was someone you could trust with your whole heart. You just wouldn’t date him because you weren’t looking for a relationship, and neither was he.

Both of you loved the arrangement you had now.

“Why do you know so much about Freud? I just randomly picked up this book.”

Rintaro shrugged, “‘Hooked up with a girl in Psychology once; she was pretty hot, but you’re still my favourite,” winking, he chewed on his gum before snatching the book away from you.

A protest nearly fell from your mouth when a mop of wavy, dark hair sauntered inside the library, taking long, confident strides as he chatted with Iwaizumi. Eyes widening, you ducked your head behind Suna, desperately clutching the hoodie clad on his stiff back.

Rintaro glanced downwards at you, “You’re hiding like you murdered somebody’s pet. Should I be worried or should I help you in hiding someone’s body?”

“Literally shut up. Oikawa is right there.”

“Oikawa... Tooru?” following your line of sight, Rintaro’s back slouched at the same time his lips curled into a mischievous smile. You could tell he was stifling his laughter; the vibrations of his back spoke enough of his urge to betray you. “Oh, he’s looking here. At you, I might say — care to explain?”

“I have nothing to explain to you. We’re not even friends.”

“Ouch,” Rintaro clutched at his chest, “That hurt. Weren’t you at my dorm like five nights in a row last week? You didn’t want me to leave the bed either. I thought we had something special!”

“Suna Rintaro, I am not fucking around with you. Shut up. I swear if Oikawa walks here, I’m never talking to you again.”

As if to prove a point, you plopped until your upper body squished against his back and the chair, cheeks puffing out in frustration as Rintaro sighed. “Okay, you don’t have to explain anything to me, but come on. You’re using me as a human shield and I have zero context on what’s going on,” he tapped your thigh, head slightly tilted to the side with a wary eye out for Oikawa. “Listen, if he’s bothering you, I could deal with it. He looks like the type of guy who doesn’t know what ‘no’ means so if that’s the case, stop hiding. I can help you with it. Just tell me what’s wrong.”

Your grip on his hoodie listened. Peering up from the bottom of your lashes, you nervously licked your lips. “Wait... you mean that? You’ll really help me?”

“Yeah! You send me nudes that motivate me to ace my exams so this is the least I could do.”

“You just have to make everything sexual, don’t you?” you rolled your eyes and ignored Rintaro’s shameless smile. Scanning the room, you glared at Oikawa’s direction before sitting up and gluing yourself to Rintaro’s hip, whose brow raised but said nothing otherwise. “Okay, so the thing is... my friends may or may not have set me up with Oikawa. They kind of gave him false hope I’m really into him — which I never will be because he has a shitty personality — but he’s not having any of it. He insisted I should go with him on just one date, and if I still don’t change my mind about him, then he won’t push further. Otherwise, he really doesn’t take no for an answer. He’s everywhere that I ended up blurting out I was already dating someone.”

Rintaro rested his chin on his palm. “That’s a lot of information to take in,” he mused, “So... you need help in finding a fake boyfriend, is that it?”

“About that,” with guilt written all over your face, you scratched the back of your neck and chuckled, making sure to avoid eye contact the entire time. “You were the first one to come to mind so I told him I was dating the middle blocker from his team. The uhm, guy who stays up until three am fighting in Twitter threads.”

Rintaro’s jaw dropped. “No way,” he clicked his tongue, hands coming up to ball beside your cheeks as he fought the desire to squeeze your cheeks. Meanwhile, you blinked at him innocently, lower lip jutted out in hopes you’d appease him — which more or less worked as he slumped in his seat. “I can’t believe you dragged me into this.”

“I didn’t have a choice!”

“You did and you chose to date me!” Rintaro hissed under his breath, “Jeez, if you wanted us to be official, you could’ve said so. I would’ve thought about it,” exhaling through his nose, Rintaro pushed his hair back, his head too much of a mess to notice you getting flustered. “Fine. I’ll be your fake boyfriend, but don’t you dare fall in love with me. Our condition when we started sleeping together was that we’re limited to casual relationships only. I like our arrangement already, and you mean a lot to me as a friend so I don’t want to lose you, alright? Whatever we’re doing, it’s all going to be an act.”

“Deal,” you shook his hand, face lighting up at how it didn’t take much to convince him. “Now go to the party with me tonight. We’ll show Oikawa why he can’t have me.”

The sight of bodies grinding onto another and music blaring through the speakers weren’t new to you and Rintaro. You’d both seen the same scene a thousand times before, having been part of that crowd at one point. Yet, tonight felt different from rest. The music felt muted as you walked through the door with Rintaro’s hand down on your waist, the stench of alcohol and sex overpowered by the musky perfume your fake boyfriend wore.

You couldn’t think clear around him.

You tried to blame it on the jitters that set your nerves on fire, anxiety pooling in your stomach at the thought Oikawa made it clear he wanted to see you tonight.

Of course, you weren’t stupid. Knowing the guy infamous for his reputation for sleeping around and changing partners like they were his clothes, he wouldn’t give up once he had his eyes set on someone. It just so happened that unfortunate person had to be you.

“Relax,” Rintaro breathed into your ear, pulling you closer by the hip when you weaved through the people nearly fucking on the floor. The sudden gesture had you jolting for a split second. Blinking, Rintaro’s reassuring smile greeted you with a tinge of amusement, his gaze tracing down your nails forming crescent moons on his arm. “Do you really have to cling to me all night?”

“We’re supposed to be a couple madly in love, remember?” you reminded with a bounce of your heel, surveying the throng of people milling in and out of the frat house in search of Oikawa. “You should kiss me too as soon as we see him. Then he’ll stop bothering me and we can be over with this fiasco.”

“Asking just in case, but how should I kiss you? Like a peck?”

“Kiss me like you want the whole world to know I’m yours,” you said nonchalantly, not thinking too much of it since this was supposed to be an act. Until a horde of loud males started cheering as soon as they entered the room, the crowd welcoming Oikawa and his friends warmly when Rintaro suddenly grabbed you by the wrist, twisting you to face him. The last thing you saw before Rintaro tilted his head to the side to press his lips to yours was the look of utter horror on Oikawa’s face.

Although, honestly, who cared? Rintaro tasted like beer and strawberries, his musky scent clouding your senses that your eyes closed in response.

Knees weakening, you grabbed onto Rintaro’s shoulders to steady yourself, gasping into his greedy lips when you felt him squeeze your hip possessively. You groaned into the kiss, your hands running up to play with the ends of his hair as Rintaro’s back hit the wall, his bent leg trapped between your thighs. He quickly took the chance and nudged his knee on your clothed pussy. Your skirt grazed against your sensitive core that you attempted to pull away to breathe, but Rintaro wasn’t having any of it.

Smirking beneath you, Rintaro hooked a finger into the chains dangling from your skirt and pulled you flush against him. You had no time to react before he was pushing a tongue past your lips. Warm, wet muscles danced against each other as Rintaro memorized the taste of you the same way you did for him — not a single care about air anymore when he made those low, deep whimpers setting fire to your loins.

But just as soon as you leaned in for more, his hair tugged backward to deepen the kiss, Rintaro pulled away. “That’s how I’d kiss you if I were your boyfriend,” he declared, pads of his thumb swiping against his moist lip swollen from the little nips you gave him — the look of pleasure and satisfaction displayed all over his handsome face that told you how much he enjoyed your needy whines.

You gaped at him, your skin burning from being edged.

Rintaro flicked you on the forehead. “Don’t look at me like that. You asked me to kiss like I wanted to let the world know your mine, and he was looking. Besides, we need to show someone who you belong to, right?” pushing his weight off the wall, Rintaro lightly bit your earlobe as you breathed hard, his sharp, cold gaze focused on a flushed red Oikawa standing across the room. “I have a better idea if you’re up for it.”

Arms crossed against your chest, you wrapped your arms around his waist in faux affection, when in reality you only needed to hear what he said through the loud music. “What do you have in mind?” The smirk on Rintaro’s face was as loud as a warning siren.

“Turn around.”

Even if you didn’t want to, Rintaro wasn’t asking. He spun you around by the shoulders, your back flushed against his chest when you felt his knee nudge between your legs once more. His fingers calloused from playing volleyball snaked past your thigh and dangerously close to your heated pussy. “This is what I had in mind,” he whispered, his voice sending tingles straight down your spine. “Let’s burn that pretty face of yours into his head. Show him what he can’t have.”

Your dignity told you to say no. To be fingered in public like this was less than ideal, even more so when your lace panties dangerously flashed into view. Yet, you found yourself arching your back to retaliate.

Ass nudging against Rintaro’s hardening cock, you smirked upon hearing his low groans. One palm cupped your ass as a warning before he playfully snapped your underwear against your thigh, a wince painting your half fucked out features from the sting. Glancing at him from the side, you sneered, about to protest when he wiggled his free hand and cupped your pussy.

Your mouth hung open.

Oikawa’s drink fell from his hands. No longer was he paying any attention to his friends, rather on the way you keened and your tongue threatening to loll out your lips the moment Rintaro’s thumb flicked your clit.

“You’re such a naughty slut. Who knew you were into this?”

“He’s watching, Rintaro,” you whimpered, gripping at his wrist like he wasn’t knuckle deep in your pants already. “Someone could see and think we’re—”

“That’s the point,” lowering his mouth onto your neck, you gasped at his teeth sinking down on the skin. Behind you, you could hear the hand on your ass disappear at the sounds of a belt unbuckling, fuelling your imagination to both the best and worst scenarios. Rintaro wasn’t far behind in his surprise as were you; you never expected you’d enjoy giving someone a show either, much less cum on the spot the second Rintaro’s cock slipped inside you. “Aw, fuck, did you just come undone for me? I haven’t even done anything yet.”

You shook your head, palms slippery with sweat as you held onto his slick hands squeezing your waist. The music was no longer audible from the pounding of your heart. Hell, you could barely feel your legs when Rintaro mumbled something incoherent around you before he guided your connected bodies onto a nearby couch.

Plopping down with your weight on top of him, you held onto his knees for dear life. Rintaro settled on the leather couch occupied by a stoned student laughing by himself, the latter’s chuckles halting when he was greeted by the sight of your hazy eyes and pants falling from your mouth. Meanwhile, Rintaro rested his arms on the back of his head. He didn’t have to lift a finger, much less give a command for you to know he wanted you to ride him right here — if you looked straight across, Oikawa would be right before you a few feet away, his frown deeply engraved into his face.

“Rin, I...”

He sat up in a flash at the hesitance in your voice, warm hands wrapping around your waist protectively. It took you a second to realize he hid his nestled cock from everyone’s prying eyes in case you weren’t comfortable, but the gesture did nothing but make you clench around him harder — both from the anxiety and anticipation.

You’d never admit it out loud, but you wanted people to watch. You wanted him to see Rintaro had total control over your body, no matter how humiliating the situation might be.

“Do you want us to stop? Should we go somewhere else?”

You didn’t answer with words. Instead, you bent your legs to rest beside his thighs, fingers looping around the ones hooked under your breast to steady yourself before you lifted your hips, then slammed back down. Again and again, until sweat dripped from your head to your jaw, you kept eye contact with a red-faced Oikawa. All the while as you bounced on Rintaro’s dick and threw your head back, laughing with your whole chest at the lights spinning from the ceiling since it reminded you of the seventh heaven you were in.

Rintaro let you go at your own pace, his grunts and garbled utterances of your name blending with the party wilding from the background. You could feel him twitching inside of you. His cock bumped and grazed your walls until the tip kissed a particular sensitive spot that had you losing your balance for a moment, nails digging into his ripped jeans to catch your breath.

“Goddamn,” Rintaro cursed, stealing away your ability to breathe with his hand snaking into your neck. “You dirty fucking slut, getting off to acting like a whore in front of the whole campus, huh? Go on. Show them how you’re such a whore for my cock.”

You couldn’t swallow down your words.

Rintaro’s grip on your neck had you on a literal chokehold, strong enough to deprive you of air and tighten around him, but not to a point you felt lightheaded. If anything, the power he displayed only fuelled you to ride him harder. Drawing figure eights with your hip, you could feel drool smearing your lipstick as the red stains smudged against Rintaro’s palm, the sound of slick and skin slapping against skin like music to your ears.

Only Rintaro could ever make you feel this way.

From the night you’d met him, each time you fucked would be the best experience of your life. Not once had he failed in bringing you over the edge or experimenting with the most absurd positions you’d never thought of before, and now you were returning the favour.

You rode his cock like it was your last mission. ‘Death by cock’ didn’t sound like such an unfavourable thing either, not when it meant losing yourself in his thick girth spreading you wide and the lewd sight of your cum sticking to his thighs. His jeans were a mess, but Rintaro never complained. He didn’t care then, and he wouldn’t care now. Seeing you dirty his clothes, your sweat dampening his shirt and your own cum coating his cock like a rewarding trophy of what felt like the best night of his life — Rintaro didn’t give a single fuck about the mess.

“F-Fuck, Rin, I’m coming!”

Rintaro held your waist, taking over with complete control as he slammed your hips up and down his twitching cock, curses falling back and forth from his mouth. “Cum on me,” he ordered. Resting his chin on your shoulders, Rintaro’s other hand twisted your jaw in the direction of Oikawa biting his lip, his hand suspiciously following your movements from under the luminescent lights. “Look at that dirty fucker. Let’s show him what he missed out on, yeah?”

A burst of warmth exploded inside you. You were too stunned to move, thighs burning from the ache that you accepted it with delight before falling back into Rintaro’s chest. “That was the best fuck of my life,” you admitted through lidded eyes, “But we’re fucked tomorrow. The whole campus is going to talk about us.”

“Let them.”

Post-nut clarity hit you hard like a truck.

Albeit expecting the rumours and looks you’d be getting the next day, the blatant impressed stares mixed with some envious ones never got easier by the end of classes. Everywhere you went, people would be whispering. But like Rintaro always used to say each time you cried to him, there’d be light at the end of the tunnel, because the best part of it all that made everything worth it?

Oikawa avoided you like the plague. Not because he was appalled of what he’d witnessed and what he’d done, but rather word spread out how he’d been rejected.

For the first time in his life, Oikawa Tooru felt humiliation, at the hands of his own teammate, no less — something Rintaro took pride in when you crashed by his room that night.

“You should’ve seen the look on his face. It was priceless,” he snickered while scrolling through the phone, about to comment when the door swung open, revealing a carbon copy replica of Rintaro. In female version.

Rintaro quickly shot out of bed and threw a blanket over your head, stalking to the girl standing with her mouth hanging ajar at the door. “What are you doing here? I thought you guys wouldn’t be home until the weekend. Plus, how’d the fuck you get inside the dorms? You’re not supposed to be here, Remi.”

Remi ignored him. “Are you hiding your girlfriend? Mom needs to know about this, she’d love to meet her!”

That was how you found yourself stuck to Rintaro in a cramped booth with his family not an hour later. You awkwardly picked at your food, stealing glances at an equally silent Rintaro while his younger sister, Remi, kept babbling about how her brother hid a girlfriend this whole time. His family went out of town for business for a while, but since they got home earlier, they decided to surprise Rintaro with a visit.

He sure was surprised, and so were you since they hadn’t stopped calling you ‘dear’ ever since.

His parents were nice — they warmly welcomed you and even invited you to have dinner with them sometime at their house. Mrs. Suna would whip up a meal to welcome you as part of their family, saying that you should consider it a thanks for making their son smile. Remi was the most excited out of all them. She’d been wanting an older sister for a while now, and she hadn’t stopped clinging onto your arm the whole time until her parents forcefully snatched her away when it was time go back home.

The entire walk back to the dorms felt suffocating.

None of you spoke a word, not until you arrived at your building and Rintaro shoved his hands down his pockets, swinging back and forth on his feet. “So... are you free this Friday? You should come have dinner with us.”

“You’re seriously asking me that?”

“Why not? You’re invited. Don’t be rude and not go.”

“It’s not being rude, Rintaro, you’re asking me to lie to your parents,” you snapped, halting in your tracks to stare at him in disbelief. “They adored me all because they think I’m dating you, but we’re not the least bit close to that. We just fuck and call it day, maybe hang out when we’re bored, but we don’t know each other at all. And weren’t you the one who told me that we can’t be more than just fuck buddies?”

Rintaro rolled his eyes. “You’re right, but I agreed to pretend to be your boyfriend to push Oikawa away. Now do me a favour and keep up with the fake girlfriend thing. My parents will be devastated if I tell them we’re not real.”

“I don’t want to lie to them!”

“It’s not a big deal! Why’re you making a mountain out of everything? So because the deal on my side doesn’t require fucking, you’ll back out just like that?”

Your mouth hung open in shock. “It’s because I don’t want to be your fake girlfriend, Rintaro, I want to date you for real!” you blurted out, eyes widening at the same time Rintaro’s cheeks flushed. Realizing what you just said, you inwardly regretted it with a grimace. “I’m sorry. You said we can’t be more than that and I know I just ruined our friendship, but I’m really sorry. I can’t bring myself to lie to your family like that, and I don’t want to lie about my feelings either,” hanging your head down low, you bit the insides of your cheeks. No matter what you said, you couldn’t take it back anymore.

“Rintaro, I like you. You make me happy and I want to do the same for you, but I understand if we’re done now. It was nice to have met you.”

Without waiting for his response, you ran back into the building when a hand wrapped around your wrist. You stared at the long fingers and to the arm connected to it, heart sinking into your chest when you came face to face with Rintaro’s handsome face.

“You didn’t even give me a chance to speak.”

“I’m sure you don’t want to be near me, Rintaro.”

Rintaro sniffed, averting the intensity of your gaze and shrugging his shoulders shly. “On the contrary... I’d like to spend every waking minute with you,” he mumbled so soft that you wouldn’t have heard it if you didn’t listen hard enough, but you did, and you were left gaping at him with warmth spreading through your skin. You stood there, watching as Rintaro laughed nervously and scratched the back of his head. “Sorry if I said that a little too late, but yes. I’d like to be your real boyfriend. Then I can fuck you exclusively because I don’t think I like the idea of you riding other people like that.”

You swatted his arm away with a laugh. “That’s the reason you want to date me?”

“There’s other reasons too like how I love talking to you and I want to get to know you more,” he cupped your face, grinning when his palms felt the warmth emanating from your skin. “And also, I want to do this more with you.”

Leaning down, Rintaro kissed you under the flickering lights of your hallway, the both of your lips stretching into a smile. In a way, you were thankful your friends tried setting you up with someone else, because if you’d known it would lead you to realizing your feelings for Rintaro, you would’ve asked him to date you a little earlier.

#suna x reader #suna rintaro x reader #suna x reader fluff #suna x reader smut #suna rintaro smut #suna rintaro x reader smut #suna x you #suna x you fluff #suna x you smut #rintaro suna x reader #suna x reader romance #suna rintaro x you #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu smut #haikyuu!! smut #suna rintarou smut #suna rintarou x reader smut #rintaro x reader smut #🖤. after dark

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augustinewrites · 1 year

Text

“just leave me alone!”

megumi storms off towards his room as gojo’s easygoing expression falls away instantly, leaving you conflicted as to who you should check on first. (which is difficult to do when you remember that thirteen year old boys hate talking about their emotions almost as much as twenty-five year old ones do.)

you decide that megumi needs a few minutes to cool down, so you step into the kitchen first, where your fiancé is tearing open a new bag of candy a little more harshly than necessary. you lean your hip against the counter as he murmurs a greeting.

“what was that about?” you ask.

“he hates me,” he shrugs.

“he’s a thirteen year old boy. he hates everybody,” you point out, but it fails to make him laugh like you’d intended. instead, his frown only deepens and he mutters,

“he doesn’t hate you.”

you tilt your head slightly. “is that what this is about? me being his favourite?”

“i don’t know,” he sighs. “i…i just can’t seem to connect with him the way you’ve always been able to.”

“that’s not true,” you say quickly, unsure of what exactly you can say to make him feel better. it’s not like him to be so insecure. “you guys have had your moments.”

“not lately. i just keep pissing him off,” he huffs, unwrapping and popping a piece of candy into his mouth. “did i do something?”

you open up the fridge to pull some ingredients for lunch, sighing. “i don’t think so, but nanami, shoko, and i were texting about it the other day—”

“wait, you’re in a group chat with nanami and shoko?”

“oh yeah,” you nod, setting your vegetables on the counter. “it’s mostly memes, but sometimes we talk about how messed up you are.”

he blinks at you a few times before muttering that you’d get back to that later. “what’d they say?”

“they quoted a lot of freud, but the gist of it was that it’s normal for fathers and sons to butt heads.”

he frowns deeply at that. “so what should i do?”

“be patient. he’ll come around eventually.”

“easy for you to say,” he huffs. “you’re the only mother figure he’s ever known. he’s already had a dad.”

“satoru, he’s thirteen. he’s officially been with us longer than he was with toji.”

you study his conflicted expression as he turns that information over in his mind. “okay, how about this? i was going to take him to the mall to buy new clothes after lunch, but why don’t you go with him instead?”

“that’s a great idea!” he exclaims, pressing his hands together excitedly. “i’ll take him to the bookstore too! can you find out what’s on his reading list?”

“he’s not a little kid anymore,” you remind him. “you can’t just buy his affection with a new book.”

“i’ll buy him two, then.”

“i love where your heart is at,” you start slowly. “but you just…have to give him space to let him come to you.”

he groans loudly, coming up behind you to press his forehead into the crook of your neck. you smile, tilting your head to the side and reaching up to pat his hair.

“i guess this is good practice for when we have our own kid,” he mutters, stiffening when he feels your hand still in his hair.

“our own kid, huh? so does that mean you’re done bringing home strays?”

“you three are all i need,” he tells you, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “whatever happens next…is just a bonus.”

BONUS:

[you] [1 attachment]

[nanami] Why is he dressed like Gojo?

[shoko]: like father like son huh

[you] satoru had a quarter-life crisis yesterday. just a small one.

[shoko] i’m not surprised. his life is like a shakespearean tragedy.

[nanami] That is accurate.

[you] he’s trying to bond with megumi.

[shoko] by dressing him like he’s emotionally unavailable?

[you] what does that even mean?

[shoko] the sunglasses

[you] ?

[nanami] Elaborate further, please.

[shoko] eyes are the windows to the soul.

[nanami] (the more you know gif)

#gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #jjk x reader #jjk fluff #jjk drabbles #keeping up with the fushigojos

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girlgenius1111 · 5 months

Text

wise beyond her years

sol meets someone, and it's doomed from the start. everyone can see it, except her. ingrid tries to balance being supportive and being... a parent?

based [ish] on the manuscript by taylor swift... mostly the lyrics "afterwards she only ate kids cereal and couldn't sleep unless it was in her mother's bed"

------

You met her at one of Ingrid’s games. Mapi had gone down to the locker room at halftime, and you’d been content to sit in your seat and scroll through your phone until the team made their way back out. That was, until she slid into the seat next to you and introduced herself.

Camila. She was a bit taller than you, the epitome of Spanish beauty. She spoke English with an adorable accent, and when you looked into her eyes for the first time, you were almost speechless. She looked to be a bit older than you. Maybe around Ingrid’s age.

You should have known better. You should have thought about how odd it was that she’d been sitting a few rows up and only came to talk to you when you were alone. How those first few dates she took you on always ended with her getting you to invite her to the next Barça game.

It was so easy for her. You were… healing. That didn't mean that you were healed. Freud would have rolled in his grave at how oblivious you were. Dating an older woman. Only a month or so after a huge fallout with your mother. Letting her talk you into things you weren’t quite sure about. Let her talk her way into your heart, making promises and declarations of love that came much too soon.

She said that she loved you. And it wasn’t that you believed her, not really. You just thought that if you tried hard enough to be perfect, one day she would love you.

------

Ingrid had made her displeasure with Camila known to you from the beginning. She knew exactly what the woman was up to, it was obvious to everyone but you. She was using you because you were an easy target, and you were vulnerable and young and excited that someone was paying attention to you.

You wouldn’t listen to Ingrid, though. Not when she warned you nicely about Camila, or when she warned you much more seriously. You ignored her words completely, dismissed them. And Ingrid didn’t want to fight with you, but she couldn’t hold back her feelings about this woman that had slipped into your life, so poor Mapi bore the brunt of the Norwegian’s rants about how Camila was not good enough for her Solstråle.

This was the case today. You were off with Camila, and Ingrid was going crazy back home. It had been weeks, and this was still going on. The worry and concern your sister had for you was at a high, it was all she could think about. Mapi felt similarly, but she tried to keep her cool because she knew very well that telling you not to date the woman would only make you want to date her more.

“She’s going to get hurt.” Ingrid said.

“She might. That’s how she learns, though, mi amor. We have to let her make her own mistakes.”

“Did you read that in your parenting book?” Ingrid asked with a slight smirk.

Mapi flushed red, avoiding her girlfriend’s gaze. “It is not a parenting book. It is a… helping sad teens book.” She argued.

Ingrid softened. “María, don’t be embarrassed. Getting a book to learn how to help Solstråle better… that is sweet and thoughtful. Just like you.”

Now, Mapi was blushing again, but this time a small smile adorned her features, though worry was still clouding her eyes. “Are you sure it’s okay? I know she’s your sister, and I do not want to overstep.”

Ingrid just shook her head. “No, you are not overstepping. I couldn’t do this without you, María, and I mean that. You balance me out. I was worried, for a while, about being too much like my mother. You’d never let that happen, though, and it’s like a safety net. I don’t need to worry as much about making a mistake because you’re always there to tell me when I’m not doing the right thing. And you don’t have to be, but you are. I don’t thank you enough for that, my love. I don’t tell you enough, how incredible you are, for being so full of love, and so happy to share it with everyone you meet.”

“I love you.” María whispered back. “I love you, and I love mi sol, and I tolerate her dog, but I love our family. Sol is a special kid and… I don’t know. I just want you both to be happy. I want you both to feel loved and worthy of love because you are.”

Ingrid isn’t quite sure how this conversation about your ‘girlfriend’ had led to this incredibly mushy conversation, but she pulled Mapi into her and squeezed tightly. “ Don’t make me cry, Solstråle will be home soon and she’ll make fun of me.”

Mapi laughed loudly, quickly wiping a tear off Ingrid’s cheek as the front door opened, announcing your arrival home. When you walked into the living room, it was to see Mapi and Ingrid curled up together on the couch, which wasn’t an unusual sight. Nor was the way they were looking at each other unusual, either. Like seeing the other person smile could sustain the other for days. Ingrid and Mapi loved each other so deeply, and so easily, it was clear for anyone to see.

You wanted that, you really did. And you thought you had it where you definitely didn’t. You’d have it one day, though. Something told you that.

-------

You weren’t sitting with Mapi at the match today. Camila had wanted it to be a real date, and not be supervised by your sister’s girlfriend, though she still wanted to attend the match. You’d been excited about it, even though you’d spent most of your free time with her in the past couple weeks. Well, excited until she’d disappeared right before kick off to get you both waters, and had been gone for 20 minutes.

You were really just worried that something had happened to slow her down, so you got up when an opposing player went down and headed off in search of her.

You found her pretty easily, leaning against a wall by the bathroom, talking to a girl. A girl that looked to be about your age, that looked just like you in fact. You tried not to jump to conclusions as you froze, watching carefully from a few meters away. It was obvious, though, what was going on. Even more obvious when Camila reached out and tucked a piece of the girl’s hair behind her ear.

It wasn’t immediately clear to you what to do. You knew you should be angry, but really all you felt was hurt. Before Camila could spot you, you headed back to your seat, and when Camila returned a few minutes later, you did what you were used to. You shut down. You answered her questions with shrugs or nods, even when she started to get annoyed that you weren’t speaking.

You wanted to talk to Frido. Not Ingrid or Mapi, because they’d freak out. Mapi would get all weirdly protective and huffy, and Ingrid would just be furious that you hadn’t listened to her. Frido would listen to you, and tell you what to do. You couldn’t get to the Swede, though, not without seeing your sister and her girlfriend. And by the time the final whistle blew, Camila’s anger was simmering under the surface, and she practically dragged you from the stadium. You quickly texted Mapi, telling her you were leaving with Camila, before your girlfriend pushed you into the car and all but slammed the door. You winced at the sound, knowing that you shouldn’t feel guilty for how you were acting. Camila should be the one feeling bad, but you couldn’t help the nagging feeling to just apologize and let it go.

It was like the old version of you and the newer version were fighting. Was this how you deserved to be treated? Had Camila really done anything wrong? Your brain was a mess, and as Camila pulled the car out of the parking spot, and began to drive, you decided that you just needed some space to think.

“Can you take me home?” You asked quietly, looking at your girlfriend out of the corner of your eye. She seemed to relax a bit, now that you’d spoken. Camila didn’t look as angry anymore. Just worried.

“Is everything okay? You’ve gone silent on me.” Camila asked gently. Or, at least, it sounded gentle. She was giving you a kind, concerned smile but there was a look in her eyes that made you kind of uneasy. You ignored it, focusing on the softness, letting yourself be lulled into a false sense of security. You told yourself to be honest, that it was probably just a misunderstanding. That Camila would make you feel better about it, explain it all away. And everything would go back to normal.

“I just… I saw you talking to that girl by the bathroom. It looked kind of cozy.” You said cautiously. The car came upon an intersection, a red light, and Camila came to a stop before she looked over at you. The concern was gone from her face. The softness nowhere to be found. She just looked furious at you.

“Did you follow me to the bathroom for a reason?” She asked venomously.

You shook your head, surprised at the turn this conversation had taken. “No, no, you were gone for a while, and I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

Camila rolled her eyes as the light turned green, looking away from you and at the road. “Sure. I was just saying hi to an old friend. There’s no need to get all jealous.”

“I’m not jealous.” You replied, sitting up straighter in your seat, a bit of anger flaring in you. Anger you hadn’t felt in a while, but a feeling that still filled your veins with fire. “I just wanted to know why you were flirting with someone while we were on a date.”

Camila scoffed. “I was not flirting. I told you it was an old friend. I barely talked to her, what are you being so dramatic about?”

“I really don’t think I’m being dramatic. I just asked you a question.” You said, trying to remain calm even as your girlfriend got angrier and angrier next to you.

“No, you acted like a child. Going completely silent and ruining our date? I know you’re young, but I expected you to act like an adult and be more mature than that. It’s honestly embarrassing.”

You felt your cheeks burn, and you chewed on your lip for a minute, trying not to say anything you’d regret. “I asked you a question, and you just keep deflecting. I don’t think I am being the childish one.”

“Is this the mommy issues or something?” Camila asked, a cruel smile playing on her lips. You sat silent for a moment, not completely sure you’d heard her correctly.

“Excuse me?”

“The jealousy, the insecurity? I know your mom fucked you up, but this is ridiculous. We’ve only been together for a few weeks, why are you being so clingy? It’s fucking annoying, and I’ll tell you right now, no one on earth is going to want to put up with this. Especially not from you, it’s not worth it.”

You blinked, completely shocked. You hadn’t expected her to get so angry when you’d been honest about your insecurity and worry. And you hadn’t expected her to throw things that you’d told her in a moment of vulnerability in your face either. “Are you serious?” You asked, voice cracking slightly.

Camila let out a humorless laugh, parking the car in front of the cafe you were supposed to be going to. “Are you going to cry now?” She asked mockingly. “Christ, you really are too young. I don’t want to date someone this immature.”

You stared at her, feeling like you had whiplash from the turn this conversation had taken. It seemed like she was breaking up with you. Which was probably for the best, if this was how she reacted to you bringing up an issue with her. Still, it was like you were seeing a side of her you’d never seen before. Cold. Cruel. She looked completely unbothered as she unlocked the car doors and gave you a pointed look, one that clearly told you that this conversation was over.

She looked unbothered, and you felt your heart shatter as your biggest fear was coming true. You were too much. It had only taken Camila weeks to get tired of you. Hot tears fell down your cheeks, ones you desperately tried to hide. You were sad and embarrassed, but most of all. You just felt so hopeless.

As you got out of the car, without another word said to your now ex-girlfriend, you wondered how you could have been so naive to think that someone would want you. Camila was right. You were too screwed up for anyone to choose you.

You walked right into the cafe, making a beeline for the bathroom. Locking and shutting the door behind you, the last of your resolve broke, and you worked hard to quiet the broken sobs falling from your lips.

Stupid. You’d been so stupid. It wasn’t the first time someone had broken your trust, or said something awful to you. But it was the first time since… things had changed. And somehow, you’d forgotten how much it hurt, feeling unwanted. You had been used to it, before, numb to it. Now, though, it burned sharp in your chest. Shame and sadness and anger and frustration. And still. That persistent feeling of hopelessness. How was anyone ever supposed to want you?

-------

Mapi had a weird feeling when you called. Your text after the match had sounded odd, and you were supposed to be getting coffee with Camila. She didn’t really have any other reason to be worried, but for some reason, she was.

“Maps?” You greeted quietly. You called Mapi on purpose. She worried less than Ingrid, and while she disapproved of Camila, she had been pretending that she didn’t. Mapi was more likely to be willing to come and get you. Ingrid, on the other hand, you assumed would be too angry that you hadn’t listened to her. Too vindicated, and too caught up in being right to comfort you.

“Hey, nena. What’s up?” Mapi asked.

“Can you come get me?” You mumbled, the embarrassment of the situation really hitting you full force.

“Send me your location, I’m on my way.” Mapi replied instantly, and you really appreciated that she didn’t try to get any details out of you, was just focused on getting to you as fast as possible.

“Can you bring Scout?” You asked after a moment’s hesitation, knowing how Mapi felt about bringing the dog in the car with her. The simple question sent another wave of worry through the Spaniard’s body, knowing you really only asked for something you needed when… you really needed it.

“Of course. Do you want to stay on the phone with me?” Mapi asked, rushing to grab her keys, ignoring the questioning look Ingrid was giving her from the couch, having woken up from a nap.

“No, it’s okay. I’ll see you soon.”

“Okay, mi sol. I love you.”

“Love you too.” You whispered, choking back a sob as you hung up.

“What is it? Where is she? Is she okay? Did something happen?” Ingrid asked rapidly, moving to get up from the couch.

“Scout! Ven aqui!” Mapi called, rolling her eyes when the dog appeared instantly, as if he knew the reason for being summoned. “I don’t know, she just asked me to come get her. Don’t get up. Stay here, rest. I’ll get pequeña.”

“But-”

“No buts, princesa. Stay here. I’ve got this covered, we’ll be back soon. Don’t move from this couch, I mean it.” Mapi insisted, never one to take Ingrid’s recovery casually.

Ingrid frowned but sat back down on the couch, watching as her girlfriend and your dog disappeared out the front door, both of them moving like they were on a mission. If there was one thing Mapi could agree with Scout on, it was that you were very important.

-------

When Mapi pulled up in front of the cafe, she saw you sitting with a to-go cup of coffee at a little table, staring at the ground. She parked quickly, finding a spot just around the corner, before she got out to walk over to you, bringing Scout with her. Scout pulled harshly on his leash, and for once, Mapi didn’t mind.

“Solstråle?” Mapi called when she got close enough, seeing your head whip up to look in the direction of your name. In a flash, you were abandoning your coffee and all but launching yourself towards Mapi. The Spaniard didn’t say anything, not quite sure what had happened but able to infer that it wasn’t good.

“Thanks for coming so fast.” You said quietly, feeling just marginally better now that Mapi had pulled you into a tight hug. Scout nudged your leg with his nose rather insistently, until you pulled away from the hug and crouched down to pet him.

“Of course, mi sol. I’ll always come for you. Did something happen?” Mapi asked, never not amazed by the way Scout instantly brought a small smile to your face, even if your eyes were still slightly wet with tears.

“We broke up.” You said simply, though your voice cracked over the last word.

“Oh, nena. I’m so sorry.” Mapi sighed. “Let's get you home, yeah?”

“Okay.” You agreed, although you really weren’t looking forward to it. You wanted to go home, curl up into a ball and cry, by yourself. At the same time, you desperately wanted a hug from your sister. You were just completely convinced that she wouldn’t be willing to do that.

-------

You walked into the house just behind Mapi, trying to take deep, steadying breaths. You were close to breaking down, and you didn’t really need to hear all the reasons that Ingrid had known this would happen. You didn’t need an ‘I told you so.’

Your sister was waiting for you in the entrance hall, pacing nervously, when you walked in.

“Solstråle! What happened? Are you okay?” Ingrid asked as soon as you were through the door, ignoring Mapi’s look that was clearly telling her to be cool.

“It’s fine, I’m fine. I want to be alone.” You said, pushing past her to head for the stairs. You heard Ingrid begin to go after you, but Mapi stopped her, telling her to give you a minute.

-------

You collapsed onto your bed, Scout jumping up next to you like he thought it was a game. You just wished it would just swallow you up. It was only a few minutes later that you heard footsteps approaching your door, like you knew they would. A soft knock on your door interrupted your crying, and you hastily wiped at your eyes. “Yeah?”

Ingrid peaked her head in. “I know you said you want to be alone, but I just wanted to check…” she said, trailing off when she saw you valiantly fighting your tears.

“I’m okay.” You mumbled, focusing on petting Scout, as opposed to looking at your sister.

“Honey, you aren’t.” Ingrid sighed, moving in closer to take a seat on the edge of your bed. “You’re upset, that’s okay. You don’t need to be embarrassed.”

“Well, I am. You were right. Is that what you wanted to hear?” You asked bitingly, not really intending to snap so harshly at your sister, but not quite sure you felt like you could trust her at the moment.

“No, sweetheart, that is not what I wanted to hear. I wanted to be wrong about her, solstråle, more than anything. I am so sorry things didn’t end well.”

“You aren’t glad that you’re right?” You asked, astonished. It didn't really make sense to you; all of this could have been avoided if you’d just listened to your sister. How could she be sorry for you when you’d blatantly ignored her advice?

Ingrid shook her head, her face painfully full of pity and sympathy. “No, not if it means that you’re hurting.”

“Oh.” You weren’t quite sure what to do with that. You’d been prepared to deal with this yourself. To be completely honest, you didn’t really feel like you deserved Ingrid’s support. You’d been so stupid not to listen to her. This was all your fault, really, and Ingrid shouldn’t have to deal with implications of something that was ultimately your mistake. “I’m sorry, I should have listened.” You said quietly, looking down, refusing to make eye contact with your sister.

“Don’t be sorry, solstråle.” Ingrid sighed. You looked so distraught, but you were leaning slightly away from your sister, like you were afraid to accept any comfort from her. Like suddenly, you weren’t sure you trusted her anymore. And though that hurt, Ingrid really couldn’t blame you. Not when the universe seemed so dead set on making you miserable. “What can I do?”

“I just want to be alone.” You mumbled, wrapping your arms around yourself, completely invalidating your statement.

“No, you don’t. Look at me.” Ingrid instructed, waiting until you raised your head to look at her, very cautiously. “You’re allowed to be sad about this. No matter what happened, no matter what I said about her before. I never want to see you hurting. You don’t have to deal with this alone just because you made a mistake. Okay?”

You held your sister’s gaze for a few moments, before you slowly nodded your head. “I really liked her.” You whispered after a minute, leaning almost imperceptibly towards your sister.

“I know. Come here, honey,” Ingrid said, opening her arms for you to all but collapse into them. It was familiar, at this point, being held tightly in Ingrid’s arms. It never failed to make you feel better. And while Ingrid wished that things would just be easier for you, a very critical part of herself settled when you relaxed against her. The brunette was never quite sure she was doing a good enough job with you, but when you went to her when you were upset, allowed her to help you, even if it was rather hesitantly, it felt reassuring to her. It wasn’t full trust, but you were getting there. She must be doing something right if you were making progress.

“What would make you feel better?” Ingrid asked after a minute, smiling to herself at how Scout had settled himself with half his upper body draped across your legs.

“Nothing.” You replied pathetically. It wasn’t the first relationship you’d had, but it felt so much more significant than any of the others had. In just a few weeks, Camila had made herself one of the most important things in your life. You weren’t really sure how she managed it, but somehow, she’d gotten you to confess things you’d told very few people, learned more about you than many people did. And as soon as things had started to not go her way, she’d used all those things against you. It was the first time in a while that you’d really let yourself be fully vulnerable with someone, and it had backfired so horrifically. You were hurt, and you were embarrassed, but most of all, you were just sad.

You thought this was going to be a turning point for you, but you didn’t realize you’d given Camila all of the ammunition she’d needed to make sure it was the biggest setback you’d face. Not until you were lying in your bed, wanting nothing more than to disappear. You’d been nothing to her. That was a familiar feeling, something that made every cell in your body squirm with anxiety. It was happening again.

“What are you thinking?” Ingrid asked, interrupting your rapid stream of thoughts.

“Is it me? Do I just… make people want to treat me badly?” You asked. It wasn’t the first time you’d considered it, but that particular fear had been dormant since everything had happened in the last few weeks. Since Ingrid and Mapi had made it clear that they wanted you here with them. It was confusing and completely contradictory, your brain couldn’t really make sense of it. Your sister and her girlfriend must just be the exception.

“No.” Ingrid said firmly. “No. It isn’t you. You just have… bad luck. You make me and Mapi want to be better, Solstråle. Better for you, so that we can take care of you in the way that you deserve. You are good, Solstråle, and you deserve good, even when you don’t feel like it.”

For some reason, Ingrid’s words brought tears to your eyes. Good tears. “Well, I can’t have all bad luck. I get to be here with you two, and I don’t know if I would still be…” you trailed off, trying to figure out what you wanted to say. “You both saved my life, I think. The two of you wanting me here, and taking me in, that’s good luck.” You managed, sitting up and shifting so you were facing your sister, who looked one word away from bursting into tears herself.

“It’s not good luck, mi sol. It’s what you deserve. It’s what you should have had this whole time.” Mapi chimed in from the doorway, looking fondly at the two of you. Ingrid smiled at her in thanks, humming quietly in agreement with her girlfriend’s statement. The Spaniard wandered in closer, flopping onto the free space on your bed, causing a disgruntled Scout to shift, kicking Mapi lightly in the side. “That girl did not deserve you. And you’ll find someone who wants to treat you the way you deserve. You just can’t rush stuff like that, sí? It will come to you when it does.”

It was potentially the most frustrating advice to receive, but it made you feel better nonetheless.

“And she was kind of ugly.” Mapi said as an afterthought.

“Mapi!” You laughed, smiling a real smile. Both girls’ faces lit up at the sight of the smile on your face, and both of them were desperate for you to keep smiling, for your face not to fall into the sad frown it had been in for the past hour. The conversation lulled, and Ingrid’s mind raced, trying to think of what people liked to do after breakups. She’d been with Mapi for so long, she wasn’t sure she remembered.

“Do you want to lay in bed alone for the rest of your night, or do you want to watch a movie? Or we could go get ice cream. Or we could go shopping. Or on a run. Or-” Ingrid listed, only stopping when you cut her off.

“Sister movie night sounds good.” You said softly, unable to express in that moment how much you appreciated how hard she was trying. You knew ingrid probably wanted to talk, to hear everything that had happened, but she was learning to respect that you really only liked to talk when you felt like it. Which wasn’t often.

“Sister movie night, cool.” Ingrid said, trying to act like she wasn’t thrilled that you’d decided to be with her instead of requesting to be alone. “Go pick a movie, I’ll make popcorn.”

You all dragged yourselves off your soft comforter, having grown rather comfortable, and headed for your bedroom door.

“I’ll be in the garage.” Mapi said, smiling at both of you as she tried to wordlessly communicate that she knew you both wanted sister time, and it was okay that it didn’t include her. Both you and Ingrid froze, though, turning slightly to stare at her like she’d said something absurd.

“Don’t be stupid.” You said, rolling your eyes. “‘Sister movie night’ obviously means ‘sister and her live-in girlfriend’ movie night.”

Mapi looked a bit surprised, though she shouldn’t have been. There were very few times that you just wanted to be with Ingrid, and those times were becoming less and less frequent as you began to depend on Mapi more and more. “You want me to watch with you?”

“Sí.” You said, almost exasperated. “Why wouldn’t I want you to hangout with us?”

“I just thought it was Engen sister time…” Mapi trailed off, looking uncharacteristically insecure.

“Engen León family time.” Ingrid amended, looking at you for approval. You nodded.

“Who else is going to talk the entire length of the film?” You asked, smirking and sprinting off down the stairs when Mapi gave you an offended look, Scout hot on your heels.

------

The movie had been a good distraction, not that Mapi or Ingrid really paid much attention to it. Instead, they kept glancing over at where you were curled up on the couch. Scout had taken his place next to you, one of his legs stretching out every now and then to kick in Mapi’s direction.

The conversation with them had obviously made you feel better, but they were still rather uneasy. You were acting completely normally, all of a sudden. And they didn’t buy it, not for a second. They weren’t sure what had happened, because you hadn’t said, but they knew that it wasn’t good. You’d been infatuated with Camila, and now you were reluctant to speak her name. Whatever had gone on had hurt you, deeply, but in the span of a few hours, you were acting like you were completely fine.

To you, it just felt like there was no use in thinking about it anymore. Crying over what happened, being sad or angry with Camila wouldn’t help you. It wouldn’t make you feel better. You’d very logically taken stock of your emotions, before deciding that they were completely useless. You were fine.

Well, maybe not, but you would be fine. Especially if you acted like nothing was wrong. Like you weren’t questioning every choice you’d made with Camila. Like you didn’t hate yourself. Emotions only had power if you gave it to them, you decided. Before, you might have been angry. Now, though, you just… forced it all off, far away. No feeling anything until it hurt less to think about what had happened.

It seemed like a good plan to you, and you stuck to it. Even when you couldn’t fall asleep that night, your mind swirling with horrible thoughts as you tried to push them away. Eventually, you gave up, putting on a show and forcing yourself to focus on that, instead.

It was obvious that you hadn’t slept the next morning, walking down to the kitchen like a zombie. Ingrid and Mapi were hoping you’d be a little more forthcoming with what had occurred today, but all hopes of that went out the window when you avoided eye contact with them, a hood pulled over your head, dark bags under your eyes. At least you there was no school, as you had the day off, but they had training, training they couldn’t miss. Neither of them felt very good about leaving you home alone, with no idea what was going on in your head.

You were blankly shoveling cereal into your mouth when Ingrid got your attention.

“Solstråle!” She said rather loudly. You jumped slightly, looking across the table at her in confusion. “I said your name 5 times. Did you not hear me?”

Ingrid didn’t sound mad, just worried, and you felt your throat tighten.

No. No. No tears. No sadness. That wouldn’t help. Self pity wouldn’t help. The only thing to do was to move forward.

“Sorry. I’m just tired. Had coffee too late yesterday, couldn't sleep.” You mumbled, turning your attention back to the ceramic bowl in front of you. Your thoughts wandered, briefly, to the fact that since you’d moved in, there hadn’t been a single day where there wasn’t a box of your favorite cereal in the pantry. You really must have been feeling the complete lack of sleep, because that thought alone almost had you tearing up.

“Come to training today. María is out on the grass, again, you can watch.” Ingrid suggested softly.

You shook your head though, swallowing the lump in your throat. You didn’t want to be far from them, but you also knew that if they kept being so nice to you, you weren’t going to be able to keep it together.

“I’m really tired, I just want to stay here.” You replied. Ingrid looked like she wanted to argue, but Mapi nodded from where she stood at the fridge, filling her water.

“That’s okay. Stay here, have a chill day. We’ll be back after lunch.” She walked over to you, squeezing your shoulder kindly. The Spaniard said goodbye, before exiting the kitchen. Ingrid hung back, not really caring at all that she might make them late.

Your sister stood from her spot at the table, and you mumbled a quiet goodbye, only looking up when she came to stand right next to you. Her hand pulled your hood down, her fingers tilting your chin up to look at her. Her face was pinched with concern, and you felt a pang of guilt that you were doing this again. Making them worry about you.

“Try to sleep or something? You looked exhausted, sweetheart. No runs or hikes or climbs, please. Just stay here?” Ingrid asked, making sure to frame her request as a question, and not a command.

“Okay.” You agreed, far too tired to even think about any of those things. You knew Ingrid just wanted you to stay where she knew you were, which was fine. You were honestly just surprised she hadn’t dragged you to training with her.

She lightly patted your cheek, leaning down to kiss your forehead. “Be good. I love you.”

“Love you too. Play safe.”

You were wide awake, completely wired. Even as everything inside of you told you that you should be tired, you felt like you might never sleep again. You kept your promise to your sister, though, collapsing onto the couch and putting a show on. Scout came to lay with you, falling asleep easily in your lap. You were jealous of your dog, you realized. It was an amusing thought, but all you felt was… Empty. Nothing. Because if you let yourself laugh, you were sure it would turn into sobs, and you couldn’t do that.

You just had to be strong.

-------

You got into bed early that night, hoping that the added time laying down would help you fall asleep. You were so exhausted, truly, but as you laid in bed at 8pm, you knew instinctively that you wouldn’t be able to sleep again. Everytime you drifted off, your thoughts drifted too, and you’d jerk awake, struck with a reminder of what Camila had said. Her words were haunting you. Everytime you closed your eyes, you could see the sneer on her face as she spoke, and hear the cruel words she’d spoken.

You were beginning to think she was right about you. How were you so screwed up after a relationship ended that had only lasted a few weeks to begin with? You thought you loved her, yes, but you were being dramatic. You shouldn’t be this devastated, and in your head, this only reinforced that idea that Camila had been right. You were too immature. You were too messed up. No one was ever going to want to deal with you.

A soft knock on your door dragged you out of your thoughts, thankfully.

“Come in,” you called. Mapi pushed the door open, taking in the rather unnaturally clean room around her. You’d gone crazy cleaning the night before, putting away all the clothes strewn across the floor. It was neat and clutter free in there now, and Mapi’s heart melted at the sight of the framed photo on your nightstand. It was of the three of you, a candid that Frido had taken after a match. It was little things like this that made Mapi deeply happy, and deeply sad all at once. For six months you’d lived here, and they’d given you the space they thought you needed. It was so far from what you actually needed, though, and Mapi couldn’t help the guilt that filled her at the thought. All she and Ingrid could do now, though, was do better.

So, she entered your room, holding out a mug towards you. It was the one she’d picked out at Ikea, the one with the map and the sun. You knew for a fact that you’d used it this morning for your coffee, which meant Mapi must have pulled it out of the dishwasher and hand washed it herself, so she could bring it up to you.

“I made you tea.” She said, taking a seat on the edge of your bed as you grabbed the mug from her.

“Did you think caffeine would help me sleep?” You asked skeptically.

She rolled her eyes. “No, idiota, it is sleepytime tea. There’s no caffeine.”

You took a cautious sip, smiling a bit when you liked the taste.

“My mami always made it for me when I couldn’t sleep.” Mapi said quietly. “Thought it might help tonight since you decided to become nocturnal yesterday.”

Ingrid and Mapi really toed the line of parent vs. sister / guardian. It was often a sisterly relationship, you thought, with both of them. When you would tease each other, or argue about borrowing their clothes. Other times, it felt completely parent-y. When they’d make you go to bed early, or annoy you about studying for a test.

This situation definitely fell into the latter category, and you found that you minded it less and less.

“It’s good.” You told her, taking another sip. “And I didn’t decide to become nocturnal. It just kind of happened.”

Mapi hummed, looking around the room again. You just had the string lights above your bed on, the room lit also by the soft glow of the TV, as your favorite sitcom played. You’d lit a candle, and you were bundled up under the covers of your bed, clearly trying hard to be comfortable. Clearly trying very hard to sleep.

You looked so tired, it made her heart ache, and she knew Ingrid felt the same. Ingrid, who Mapi was absolutely sure was hovering outside the door, not wanting to overwhelm you. You seemed… fragile. Like you were one step away from breaking at any given moment, and neither of them wanted that to happen before you were ready. Ingrid was just as worried about you, though, and she’d only agreed not to go in if Mapi promised to make you promise something.

“Can you promise to wake us up tonight if you can’t sleep?” Mapi said finally, looking intently at you.

With a sigh, you shrugged. “What good would that do?”

“You wouldn’t have to be alone.” Mapi said simply, watching as a flicker of emotion flashed across your face. You didn’t have to be alone anymore. Sometimes you forgot. “If you don’t promise, Ingrid is probably going to come in here every hour or something and check on you.”

With a roll of your eyes, and a big sigh that you didn’t really mean, you nodded. “Fine.”

“Good.” Mapi grinned. “Goodnight, mi sol. Te quiero.”

“Goodnight.” You replied. “Tell Ingrid in the hall goodnight too.”

The Spaniard chuckled. “I will. Sleep tight.”

With that, she leaned down, pressing a kiss onto your forehead, before she slipped out of the room. Hushed whispers came from the hall and you smiled to yourself, just a bit. Ingrid was such a weirdo sometimes.

-------

It was around 2am when you broke. You’d tried everything you could think of to fall asleep, and nothing had worked. Worse, the lack of sleep was really getting to you and you were feeling ridiculously emotional. When you promised Mapi you’d wake them up if you couldn’t sleep again, you hadn’t meant it. Now, though, as you lay awake in your bed, tears threatening to fall, you really didn’t want to be alone. You weren’t sure how they could help, or even if you wanted help, but you knew that the indisputably healthy choice to make here would be to go to them. And you were trying to be better for yourself.

Even as Camila’s words rattled around in your head, and you were half convinced you were an awful person, about to become even worse by waking Ingrid and Mapi up, you got up from your bed, and walked down the hall.

There were a lot of notable moments in your time in Spain. A lot of them consisted of long, emotional talks with Ingrid and Mapi. And you knew that this was likely what you were headed for. It was naive to think you could hold everything that had happened in, keep it all to yourself. Especially when you’d kind of gotten used to sharing things with them, as horrifying as that thought was. You weren’t nervous, like usual, though. You just wanted them to tell you that everything she’d said was wrong.

Scout followed you down the hall, slightly annoyed that you’d woken him up when you got up. He liked to sleep with some part of him touching you, so it was inevitable that when you woke, Scout did too. Your sister’s bedroom door was open, and you peeked in, half second guessing yourself. Both of them were asleep. It was a cool night, by Barcelona’s standards, which was obvious by Mapi’s sweatshirt and sweatpants that she’d worn to bed, as well as the extra blanket pulled over her. Ingrid, on the other hand, had kicked the comforter off of her, sleeping in just a tshirt and shorts. They were laying facing each other, their hands tangled together, like they’d fallen asleep talking.

They were sleeping. They’d had a long week. They had training the following day. You shouldn’t wake them. They looked comfortable and peaceful, and you shouldn’t ruin that. You turned to go back to your room, biting your lip to stop yourself from crying at how utterly alone you suddenly felt.

You were sure you hadn’t made any noise, but still, a whispered voice stopped you in your tracks.

“Solstråle?” Ingrid asked quietly, sitting up and rubbing the sleep out of her eyes. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, go back to sleep.” You said, trying to keep your voice steady. It evidently didn’t work, because not a second later, Ingrid was flicking the lamp on, looking at you with a sympathetic expression on her face. Next to your sister, her girlfriend huffed in annoyance, still practically asleep, pulling the covers up and over her head. Ingrid rolled her eyes, before fixing her attention back on you.

“Come here.” Ingrid instructed, gesturing you closer to the bed. You walked over, feeling ridiculously like a small child waking their parents up after a bad dream. “You can’t sleep?”

“No.” You said miserably, roughly wiping away a stray tear.

“How can I help? Do you want to talk?” She asked worriedly, brutally kicking Mapi in the shin as she did so, thinking that her girlfriend would be somewhat helpful in this situation, even if she was half asleep. The Spaniard grumbled unhappily, but emerged from under the covers just as you responded.

“I don’t know, I just can’t stop thinking about her.” You whispered, truly not confident that anything could make you feel better in that moment.

Mapi sat up, patting the middle of the bed invitingly. It was a king, and there was plenty of room, but you looked between her and Ingrid skeptically.

“I’m not a child.” You said a bit harshly, thinking of Camila calling you immature. If only she could see you now.

“We know. You just broke up with your girlfriend, though, and you haven’t slept in over a day. You are sad and exhausted, and it isn’t childish to need help.” Mapi said kindly, very dramatically scooching over so there was more room for you.

You floundered for a minute, not quite sure what to do. You were an adult. An adult. And Ingrid and Mapi were not your parents. The appeal was there, though, to climb into the bed and tell them everything. To let yourself break when you knew they’d keep track of all the pieces, and put you back together. “Can I have more tea?” You blurted out, looking at Mapi. You weren’t really sure where that came from, but she nodded enthusiastically, rising from the bed, practically taking off for the kitchen in a sprint.

“I’ll go make some!”

You turned back to Ingrid, chewing aggressively on your lip. She rolled her eyes at you, teasingly, before she pointendly looked between you and the bed.

“Get in the damn bed.” Ingrid sighed. It was easier, when she was telling you exactly what to do, because you didn’t have to worry about picking the wrong answer. You settled on the bed, right in the middle, and Ingrid threw an arm around your shoulders, pulling you to lean your head on her shoulder.

“Ingrid?” You said after a minute, so quietly, your sister almost missed it.

“Hmm?”

“Do you think I’m immature?” You asked.

Ingrid thought for a moment. “No. I think you’ve had to grow up really fast, and you’ve had to make a lot of big adjustments. You are more mature because of all of that. Why?”

You knew she would hate what you were going to say. “Camila said I was.”

Ingrid grew tense next to you. “That’s because she was a 26 year old woman dating an 18 year old. What was she fucking expecting?” Ingrid said venomously.

Mapi walked back into the room, taking care to be quiet, as it looked like you were deep in thought. She placed the mug of tea on her nightstand before she sat on the bed next to you, turning so she could see your face.

“Did she say anything else?” Ingrid asked cautiously.

You opened your mouth to tell her that, no, Camila hadn’t said anything else. Instead, words flowed out of your mouth that you hadn’t decided to say, but you were unable to contain them. “She called me jealous and immature. She said the ‘mommy issues’ were really obvious, that I was insecure and clingy, and that I wasn’t worth it. That no one would want to put up with me.”

You said it so forlornly, so resigned to what this awful woman had told you, Ingrid felt an anger she’d never experienced before rise within her. Neither she nor Mapi knew what to say right away, collecting their thoughts. You broke the silence again, though, after only a few seconds.

“I think she’s right.” You said, your voice breaking clearly. You pressed your hands to your face, body shaking with silent sobs.

“No, mi sol, no,” Mapi said softly, scooting closer to rest a hand on your knee.

Ingrid took a breath, trying to swallow her anger, rubbing your arm with her hand comfortingly. “Solstråle, you are none of those things. That awful woman has no idea who you are, not really. You are not immature, you are 18. There is a huge difference. And you are so much more than what happened with mom. You are so many good things despite mom, sweetheart, and Camila doesn’t know what she’s talking about. She just wanted to hurt you, none of that is true.” Ingrid said insistently.

“Why would she want to hurt me? I thought she liked me. I don’t understand.” You replied, still keeping your face hidden away in your hands.

“Because she isn’t a good person, and she doesn’t deserve you. And you don’t understand because you are good, mi sol. So good.”

“Then why do such horrible things keep happening?” You asked, voice raised slightly in frustration. You pulled your hands away from your face, looking between your sister and her girlfriend with a tearstained, bewildered face. “I’m trying to be good, I’m trying so hard, why is this so hard?”

Both girls felt their hearts break a little at your words. Ingrid wrapped both her arms around you, pulling you into her chest as you cried. “I know, Solstråle, it’s not fair. It’s going to get better. I promise you, it is.”

“I’m tired of everything being so hard.” You cried, shutting your eyes tightly as you spoke. You felt a soft hand brushing your hair away from your forehead, felt Ingrid leave a kiss on your forehead. “I’m tired.”

You meant it figuratively, and literally, and Mapi and Ingrid knew that very well. The best thing they could do for you now, would be to get you calm enough to sleep. It was happening without them trying very hard, honestly. You could barely keep your eyes open, even as soft sobs fell from your mouth.

“It’s not going to be hard forever. I promise you, mi sol.” Mapi said, looking intently at you, though you didn’t look back at her.

“I’m so tired.” You repeated, barely making sense. You were almost delirious with exhaustion, your emotional outburst only making it worse.

“Sleep, solstråle. We are right here. Everything will feel better in the morning. You aren’t going to feel like this forever. Just relax, and sleep. We love you so much.”

And even as you nodded, all the fight and worry of being too much for them flooding from your body, you wondered if they were right. If everything would feel better.

If anyone would ever really want you.

You drifted off ridiculously easily, curled up next to your sister, your brain going quiet for the first time in days. Once Ingrid was sure you were asleep, she turned to her girlfriend, who was tucking the blankets around you nice and tight.

“I am going to kill that girl.” Ingrid murmured, feeling absurdly protective over you.

“I will kill her first.” Mapi vowed.

“She isn’t allowed to date again until she’s 50.” Ingrid said, a frown etched on her face.

Mapi cracked a smile. “Good luck with that, mi amor.”

Ingrid shook her head. “I can’t stand to see her like this.”

The Spaniard turned serious again, nodding her agreement. “It’s gonna get better, Ingrid. It’s not going to be perfect, but she’s already better. She just needs time.”

“I wish I could take it from her, so she could just be happy all the time.” Ingrid admitted, flicking the lamp off, her voice barely more than a whisper.

“I do too.” Mapi whispered back. She and Ingrid looked at each other over your slumbering form, each seeing their exact feelings reflected in the other’s face, even with their features obscured by darkness. They just wanted things to be better for you. Easier and lighter and happier. They’d do anything, get you the moon if you wanted it. They didn’t consider if they were giving you all they could, that maybe you needed something else. They just promised themselves that they wouldn’t rest until you were happier, whatever it took. Whatever it took for you, because you were their sol, and nothing on earth was more important to them than your happiness.

-------

my name is girlgenius1111 and i like to make my fictional kid suffer give me all your thoughts on this installment of sol ☀️

#woso imagine #woso x reader #ingrid engen x mapí leon #ingrid engen x reader #mapi leon x reader #engen!reader #platonic reader #🍓☀️#woso one shot #woso fanfics

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cameronspecial · 6 months

Note

good morning, good afternoon or good night depending on the time you see this . Excuse my English, I'm using the translator.I wanted to ask for an imagine about dad Rafe, where his son (Theo/Luca or whatever name you prefer) besides being jealous of his mother (not letting Rafe give him kisses, pushing him so they don't hug, etc.) at his young age He starts calling Rafe "Rafe" instead of "Papa", I think it would be a nice imagine

Oedipus Rex

Pairing: Dad! Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings: Jealous Rafe.

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 0.6K

A/N: This is a great idea and don't worry, your English is great!

Masterlist

Theo is the love and entire world of Rafe’s life, along with Y/N of course. However, right now, all Rafe wants to do is force his son to stay in his room. Not because his son is being bad, but because Rafe is jealous of the child. Y/N’s eyes are on the TV while Theo is snuggled under her arm. For the past three minutes, Rafe has been trying to sit on her other side so he can watch with her, but every time he steps closer, Theo’s eyes narrow at his dad. Deciding to ignore his son’s judgment, he plops down beside his wife and leans over to kiss her. Theo has other plans though, leaving Rafe’s lips to fall on his hand. Rafe’s eyebrows knot together and he groans, sitting back up to continue watching.

———

Y/N has just returned home from work and Rafe goes to greet her. Before he can kiss his wife, tiny footsteps patter past him and Theo throws himself into his mom’s arms. She leans down to pick him up in her arms. Theo peppers his mom's cheek with kisses. The boy pulls back and Rafe goes in to try to kiss his wife; however, Theo’s tiny hand places itself on his dad’s shoulder and pushes him away. “No, my mommy,” he protests, wrapping his arms around his mom’s neck. Rafe looks to her for back up and she only shrugs, “I think he is probably just hangry. Why don’t we get him something to eat?” “Okay. I just think it is unfair that he gets all of your cuddles,” he grumbles, following his family to the kitchen.

———

Rafe has to set his foot down at some point and it is definitely going to be now. When he got out of the bathroom after he finished getting ready from bed, he found Theo in bed with his wife. His son is pressed up against Y/N, cuddling at her side. “I thought he was supposed to be sleeping in his own room now. He’s six. That’s old enough to be sleeping by himself,” Rafe complains. He gets into bed and tries to bring his wife to his side, yet Theo stops him. “No, Rafe. I can only cuddle Mommy.” Hearing his son say his legal name crosses his line. “My name is Papa to you, Theo. I’m your dad, not your friend,” he criticizes, crossing his arms over his chest. Theo ignores his father and falls asleep instead. Once he is sure his son is sleeping, Rafe leans over to whisper in Y/N’s ear, “I don’t like how possessive he is of you.” She giggles with a shake of her head, her fingers lacing through Theo’s hair. “I can think of two reasons why he is acting like this. One. He is going through the phallic stage of Freud’s psychosexual stages, which means he is experiencing the Oedipus complex. He sees you as a threat and wants to replace you. But I think that one is creepy, so my favourite is number two. He is just modelling your possessive behaviour. I told you it was going to bite you in the ass one day,” she rattles off, reminding Rafe of the fact that she has a doctorate in psychology. Annoyance flashes on his face, “Ugh, why does my amazing wife have to be so smart? You did tell me so and I didn’t listen to you, so I’m sorry. If I had known I was teaching him to be a little asshole, then I would’ve listened to you.” She giggles with a shake of her head. “You didn’t just call our son an asshole,” she baffles. Rafe shrugs, “Act like an asshole, get called an asshole. It’s okay though. I’m going to stop being possessive and he’ll stop acting like an asshole. I promise.” She rolls her eyes. “I highly doubt that is going to happen, but whatever you say,” she says, turning to turn the lights off. Rafe copies her actions and lies against his pillow. “Goodnight, I love you,” he bids her. “I love you too, goodnight.”

Taglist: @winterrrnight @loves0phelia @thelomlisrafecameron @wickedlovely121 @thepatriarchykeychain @drewsmusee @starkowswife @maybankslover @forstarkey @loving-and-dreaming @magicalyoura

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rey-129-fan · 4 months

Text

Gotham-Amity Co-op AU Part 3

Part 1 | Previous | Next

“Hola beauties, and welcome back to Fashionable History, I’m Paulina,”

“And I’m Star, and on this channel, we teach you how to be at the height of fashion, no matter what time period you find yourself in.”

“Now for our long-time viewers who missed our community posts, you might be wondering about the change in location. Well, we are moving up in the world. That’s right, fam, we are officially-

“College girlies!” The two shouted into the camera.

“Ah, such a big step,” ‘Star’ sighed.

“Indeed it is. And to celebrate, let us dress up like we’re going to meet the queen of fashion herself: Marie Antoinette!”

***

“So you would think it would be hard to demonstrate Amity Park’s weirdness while no longer living there, but you would be wrong,” a black man said into the camera while walking down a hallway, his glasses fallen ever so slightly down his nose. There were voices in the background progressively getting louder. “You see, Danny’s mentor popped by this morning, and apparently, he decided that the perfect way to tutor Danny and piss off his bosses at the same time was to allow a bunch of college kids to summon a historical figure of their choosing to discuss their area of expertise. Once a week.

“Jazz got to go first.”

The black man stopped in a doorway. Much clearer in the background was a woman’s even voice. “And Jazz, being the future psychologist that she is, picked the most sex-obsessed man in history.”

The camera flipped to show a young red-head sitting across an older man with a white beard in a blue three piece suit. In the background was a younger man, his blue eyes glazed over as he sat there sipping from his mug, his head of black hair bobbing as he fought to stay awake. Really, it wouldn’t gather a second glance, except for the tiny detail that the older man’s skin was as green as a sunburnt person’s was red.

“-indeed homosexuality is not an illness, and in fact the only link between it and mental health has been observed to be caused by familial and community reactions.”

“That is good to hear. Indeed, many people throughout history were homosexual, and a lot of them did not show any other signs of mental illnesses.”

“It is. However, with the recent pushes for public acceptance of those not heterosexual, many have come forward with sexual orientations beyond just hetero and homosexuality, including those that are attracted to both men and women at the same time, as well as those who experience no sexual attraction or are completely repulsed by the idea of anything sexual.”

The camera flipped back to the first man. “She is explaining how psychology has developed in the last 100 years without trying to rip apart Freud’s work.

“This isn’t even the first time something like this has happened. Occasionally, we’d get guest speakers that would turn out to be some famous author or pioneer in their field. It’s how our English teacher got his copy of the Tempest signed by the original author. I think this might be the first one that won’t end in a raid by government idiots in white, though.

“So yeah, we occasionally get to talk to dead celebrities and don’t bat an eye at it. Amity Park is very weird.”

***

“Danny! You left your cups in the sink again!”

“How can you tell it’s mine?”

“They’re glowing green and you’re the only one that drinks ectoplasm! Now take care of them before you bring the food to life again!”

“Fine…”

The camera pans over to a goth woman giving the camera a flat look. On screen, there’s some text that reads: ‘When your boyfriend forgets to clean off his dishes after his mildly radioactive smoothies.’

***

“Urgh!” Just die you stupid, lazy skeleton!”

“How long is this attack going to be!”

“I don’t care, because when it’s finally my turn, I am going to stab the dust out of this depressed sack of bones!”

On screen was a couch, and on that couch sat 3 young adults, two women and one man. One of the women was Valarie Gray, US National Taekwondo Silver Medalist, was jabbing her thumb down on the d-pad of her controller, lips pulled back in a snarl. The other was Samantha Manson, more known for the TikTok channel Our Strange Lives. The man was a muscular blond. All three were focusing on the screen, their eyes emitting faint light and Valarie’s teeth seemed to be getting sharper.

Quietly a blond woman walked on screen, a backpack slung over her shoulder. The woman was Star Strong from Fashionable History.

“You guys are still streaming?”

“This boss is stupid difficult and Manson and Gray are the only ones willing to play.”

“What happened to the guys?”

“Fowley, Wes, Singh all had work. Fenton got to the first boss and then lost it because ‘Goat Mom just wanted to protect us’ before getting a call from his lil sis asking for help. Kwan is working on a lab with a guy from his chem class, and Kyle passed out a couple hours ago.”

“Stop dodging!”

“Wanna play?”

“Can’t. Going to the library to study for a calc exam I have coming up. See you guys later.”

“Later.”

“FUC-”

***

“And so, with this polaroid image, we have evidence to prove that-”

“Hey, Wes, do you have something I can use for a collage? Oh sweet, thanks bro!”

“What? No! Kyle! Get back with that! That was the proof I was going to use to prove the existence of Yetis!”

“Oh damn. This is some nice creature work! Danny, your friend has an incredible costume, man!”

“Thanks, Kyle! I’ll pass it on!”

***

Tim paused the video right as Wesley Weston stood to chase his older brother.

There.

The red-head’s eyes had a slight glow to them. Tim clicked over to the other images he had gathered of the Amity Park teens, all with their eyes glowing or other signs of something inhuman.

Tim had been introduced to this group by Stephanie when she found a martial arts demonstration Gray did that involved breaking multiple boards, all several feet above her head. Stephanie had meant it as a ‘check out his cool person doing what we’re doing,’ but Tim noticed something. All the boards were being held by seemingly the same person- or at least people dressed very similarly. And not in a way where they’re sitting on a ledge above Gray and are switching out the board each time she broke one. More that there were multiple companies of the same white glove all holding a board and all floating several feet above where they should have been. That was already a little weird, but it could’ve been some special effects or just a uniform.

No, what caught Tim’s attention was the quick glimpse of the face of one of the board holders. It was youthful- late teens- but with paper white hair that showed no signs of bleaching. Now these features would have been a thing to cement the mysterious person in Tim’s mind. But it wasn’t that.

No, what got Tim to do some digging to find out about a previously unknown supposed hero from a small town that has been blacked-out by the US government, was his eyes.

His calm, glowing Lazarus green eyes.

***

So we finally get a taste for the shenanigans our liminals are up to. Sam, Tucker, and Danny all share a TikTok where they show off how weird the other two are and how weird their town is. Wes is trying to prove cryptids exist, which Kyle ruins. Dash has a gaming stream that most often Kwan joins in on, and Paulina and Star do dress history. Oh, and Valarie is a national taekwondo because karate has only been an event for one Olympic games, but taekwondo has been an event since 2000 and Val seems more like a kicker than a thrower. Plus, I actually took taekwondo when I was younger.

We do get another Bat showing up at the end. There is absolutely no plot, however, so who knows where this is going. Certainly not me!

I'm still looking for names (please, I need them). As for majors:

Jazz-Psych (obviously)

Kyle- Liberal Arts (I wanna put him in accounting, but Liberal Arts works for now)

Tuck- Comp Sci

Danny- Poly Sci, minor in Astronomy

Sam- Double Poly Sci and Environmental Science

Val- Criminal Justice

Dash- Undecided (both me and him)

Kwan- Pre-Med for now, though he wants to do Child Development/Education

Paulina- Fashion Marketing

Star- Sports Science

Mikey- Music

Wes- Journalism

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talonabraxas · 4 months

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The Archetypes and the Collective Unconscious (1968) Carl Jung

Why did primitive man go to such lengths to describe and interpret the happenings in the natural world, for example the rising and setting of the sun, the phases of the moon, the seasons? Carl Jung believed that the events of nature were not simply put into fairytales and myths as a way of explaining them physically. Rather, the outer world was used to make sense of the inner.

In our time, Jung noted, this rich well of symbols – art, religion, mythology – which for thousands of years helped people understand the mysteries of life, had been filled in and replaced by the science of psychology. What psychology lacked, ironically given its borrowing of the ancient Greek term, was an understanding of the psyche, or the self in its broadest terms.

For Jung, the goal of life was to see the 'individuation' of this self, a sort of uniting of a person's conscious and unconscious minds so that their original unique promise might be fulfilled. This larger conception of the self was also based on the idea that humans are expressions of a deeper layer of universal consciousness. To grasp the uniqueness of each person, paradoxically we had to go beyond the personal self to understand the workings of this deeper collective wisdom.

The collective unconscious

Jung admitted that the idea of the collective unconscious “belongs to the class of ideas that people at first find strange but soon come to possess and use as familiar conceptions.” He had to defend it against the charge of mysticism. Yet he also noted that the idea of the unconscious on its own was thought fanciful until Freud pointed to its existence, and it became part of our understanding of why people think and act the way as they do. Freud had assumed the unconscious to be a personal thing contained within an individual. Jung, on the other hand, saw the personal unconscious mind as sitting atop a much deeper universal layer of consciousness, the collective unconscious – the inherited part of the human psyche not developed from personal experience.

The collective unconscious was expressed through 'archetypes', universal thought-forms or mental images that influenced an individual's feelings and action. The experience of archetypes often paid little heed to tradition or cultural rules, which suggests that they are innate projections. A newborn baby is not a blank slate but comes wired ready to perceive certain archetypal patterns and symbols. This is why children fantasize so much, Jung believed: they have not experienced enough of reality to cancel out their mind's enjoyment of archetypal imagery.

Archetypes have been expressed as myths and fairytales, and at a personal level in dreams and visions. In mythology they are called 'motifs', in anthropology 'représentations collectives'. German ethnologist Adolf Bastian referred to them as 'elementary' or 'primordial' thoughts that he saw expressed again and again in the cultures of tribal and folk peoples. But they are not simply of anthropological interest; usually without knowing it, archetypes shape the relationships that matter in our lives.

Archetypes and complexes

Jung highlighted a number of archetypes, including the 'anima', the 'mother', the 'shadow', the 'child', the 'wise old man', the 'spirits' of fairytales, and the 'trickster' figure found in myths and history. We look at two below.

The Anima

Anima means soul with a female form. In mythology it is expressed as a siren, a mermaid, a wood-nymph, or any form which 'infatuates young men and sucks the life out of them'. In ancient times, the anima came represented either as a goddess or a witch – that is, aspects of the female which were out of men's control.

When a man 'projects' the feminine aspect within his psyche onto an actual woman, that woman takes on magnified importance. The archetype makes itself present in a man's life either by infatuation, idealization or fascination with women. The woman herself does not really justify these reactions, but acts as the target to which his anima is transferred. This is why the loss of a relationship can be so devastating to a man. It is the loss of a side of him that he has kept external.

Every time there is an extreme love or fantasy or entanglement, the anima is at work in both sexes. She does not care for an orderly life, but wants intensity of experience - life, in whatever form. The anima, like all archetypes, may come upon us like fate. She can enter our life either as something wonderful or as something terrible – either way her aim is to wake us up. To recognize the anima means throwing away our rational ideas of how life should be lived, and instead admitting, as Jung puts it, that “Life is crazy and meaningful at once”.

The anima is profoundly irrational – and yet she carries great wisdom. When she comes into your life it may seem like chaos, but it is only later that we are able to divine her purpose.

The Mother

The Mother archetype takes the form of personal mother, grandmother, stepmother, mother in law, nurse, governess. It can be fulfilled in figurative Mothers such as Mary Mother of God, Sophia, or the Mother who becomes a maiden again in the myth of Demeter and Kore. Other Mother symbols include the Church, country, the Earth, the woods, the sea, a garden, a ploughed field, a spring or well. The positive aspect of the archetype is Motherly love and warmth, so celebrated in art and poetry, which gives us our first identity in the world. Yet it can have negative meaning – the loving mother or the terrible mother or goddess of fate. Jung considered the Mother the most important archetype because it seemed to contain all else.

When there is an imbalance of the archetype in a person, we see the Mother 'complex'. In men, the complex may give rise to 'Don Juanism', which can make a man fixated on pleasing all women. Yet a man with a mother complex may also have a revolutionary spirit: tough, persevering, extremely ambitious.

In women, the complex can result in an exaggeration of the maternal instinct, with a woman living for her children, sacrificing her individuality. Her husband becomes just part of the furniture. Men may be initially attracted to women with a mother complex because they are the picture of femininity and innocence. Yet they are also screens onto which a man can project or externalize his anima, and he only later discovers the real woman he has married.

In other forms of the archetype, a woman will go to any lengths to not be like her biological mother. She may carve out a sphere of her own, for example becoming an intellectual to show up her mother's lack of education. A choice of marriage partner may be to antagonize and move away from the mother. Other women in the hold of the archetype may have an unconscious incestuous relationship with the biological father and jealousy of the mother. They may become interested in married men or having romantic adventures.

* * * *

Jung noted that in evolutionary terms the unconscious came well before the development conscious thought. Yet in its youthful enthusiasm the conscious mind feels it can defy or deny its deeper counterpart; it is all-powerful while the unconscious seems a murky irrelevance. Yet he believed that “Man's worst sin is unconsciousness”. We project everything we internally don't like or can't accept onto the world, so that we wage war instead of studying ourselves. It is a case of 'anything but self-knowledge' – but in the end we pay the price, whether as individuals or collectively.

Spiritual archetypes

Why is psychology as a science so young? Jung suggests it was because for most of human history it simply wasn't necessary. The wonderful imagery and mythology of religions was able to express the eternal archetypes perfectly. People feel a need to dwell upon ideas and images relating to rebirth and transformation, and religions supply these in abundance for every aspect of the psyche. The Catholic Church's strange ideas of the Virgin Birth and the Trinity are not fanciful images but packed with meaning, Jung wrote, archetypes of protection and healing that administered to any ruptures in the minds of the faithful.

The Protestant Reformation reacted against all this. The rich Catholic imagery and dogma became nothing but 'superstition', and in Jung's view this attitude made way for the barrenness of contemporary life. Genuine spirituality must engage both the unconscious and the conscious mind, the depths as well as the heights.

Jung observed the trend of people in the West flocking to Eastern spirituality, but felt this was hardly necessary given the depth of meaning embedded in the Christian tradition. Another result was that that people are attracted to political and social ideas that were “distinguished by their spiritual bleakness”.

Humans have a religious instinct, Jung believed, whether it is a belief in God or in some secular faith like communism or atheism. “No one can escape the prejudice of being human” he observed.

Individuation

'Individuation' was Jung's term for the point when a person is finally able to integrate the opposites within them - their conscious and unconscious minds. Individuation simply means to become what you always were in potentia, to fulfil your unique promise. The result is an individual in the real sense of the word, a whole and indestructible self that can no longer be hijacked by splintered aspects or complexes.

But this reintegration does not happen by thinking about it rationally. It is a journey with unexpected twists and turns. Many myths show how we need to follow a path that transcends reason in order to fulfill ourselves in life. Jung went to some length to define the self. He understood it to be something different from the ego; in fact the self incorporated the ego, “just as a large circle encloses a smaller one”. While the ego relates to the conscious mind, the self belongs to the personal and collective unconscious.

The healing mandala

Jung included in Archetypes and the Collective Unconscious many reproductions of mandalas, abstract patterned images whose name in Sanskrit means 'circle'. He believed that when a person draws or paints a mandala, unconscious leanings or wants are expressed in its patterns, symbols and shapes.

In his therapeutic practice, Jung found mandalas to have a 'magical' effect, reducing confusion in the psyche to order, and often affecting a person in ways that only became apparent later. They worked because the unconscious is allowed free reign; what has been swept under comes to the surface. Motifs such as egg shapes, a lotus flower, a star or sun, a snake, castles, cities, eyes, etc. are produced for no obvious reason, yet reflect or draw out processes that are going on deep below that person's conscious thinking. When a person became able to make a meaningful interpretation of the images, Jung observed that it was usually the beginning of psychological healing. It was one step taken in the individuation process.

Final comments

We think we are modern and civilized with all our technology and knowledge, but inside, Jung says, we are still 'primitives'. He once observed in Switzerland a Strudel, a local witch-doctor, remove a spell from a stable – in the shadow of a railway line on which several trans-European expresses roared by.

Modernity does not do away with the need for us to attend to our unconscious minds. If we do neglect this side of us, the archetypes simply look for new forms of expression, in the process derailing our carefully made plans. Usually the unconscious supports our conscious decisions, but when a gap appears the archetypes are expressed in strange and powerful ways; we can be ambushed by lack of self-knowledge.

The universe of ancient symbols we once used for deciphering life's changes and larger meaning has been replaced by a science – psychology - that was never designed to understand the soul and cater to it. Writing of the scientific mindset in general, Jung wrote: “Heaven has become for us the cosmic space of the physicists...But 'the heart glows,' and a secret unrest gnaws at the roots of our being.” Modern man or woman lives with a spiritual emptiness that was once easily filled by religion or mythology. Only a new type of psychology that actually recognized the depth of the psyche would be able to quell this secret unrest.

When it seems you are helpless in the face of problems, it should be remembered that this deeper mind carries the totality of human experience, a vast store of objective wisdom and perfect solutions. It only has to be recognized and accessed. The archetypal vortex. From the Journal of Borderland Research, Vol XLV. Super Quantum Speed in No Time

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 3 months

Text

The Man 14

Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: mob!Lloyd Hansen

Summary: a demanding customer complicates more than your work life.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

Lloyd wheezes and rubs his chest. You look down at him from the other side of chaise. You have to fight to keep the grin from your face. Your eyes slowly drift to the door.

“Don’t even fucking think—of it,” he huffs as he kicks the chaise into your leg. You wince and let out an ow, “you’re in big fucking trouble now, baby face.” He rolls onto his shoulder and presses his hand to the floor, “fuck.”

“Sir, I didn’t do anything--”

“You know what the fuck you did,” he snarls as he sits up.

“I did nothing. I’m sorry I’m weak,” you pout, “I couldn’t hold on--”

“Oh my piss!” He pushes himself up to his feet, standing straight with effort, “you don’t stop. You’re going to drive me fucking nuts.”

You’re quiet as you watch him. Is he not already there? He kidnapped you pretty much and hates you but won’t let you leave. It really seems insane to you.

“Sir, with all due respect, I have offered to leave you alone.”

“You just need to learn to shut your mouth,” he stomps around the chaise.

You scramble into action and back away from him, making a circle around the piece of furniture as he advances, “now, sir,” you put your hands up, “I thought we were having fun. Playing a little game and you know when you play games, you can get hurt.”

“Stop, come here,” he snarls as he gets closer and you hop backwards to evade his reach.

“That seems like a bad idea.”

“I said stop!”

“You say stop but your eyes say run,” you babble.

“This is your problem. You just don’t get who’s in charge. Me. I am!” His voice rises to a roar.

Your eyes round, “I get it, F—Lloyd, I truly understand it. My dad too was a strict man.”

“Dad? What the fuck are you talking about?”

You continue your circles around the chaise, dizzy as you stagger on your heels.

“I’m saying that I have known men like you--”

“You’re comparing me to your dad?”

“Well, I’m no fan of Freud by any means--”

“Jesus!”

He lunges and you dodge out of his way. He hits the square side table and you yipe. You don’t think you just go. You spin on your feet and race for the door. You let your adrenaline do the thinking as you rip it open and stumble into the hall.

You won’t get far. You’re not stupid. You’re naked as sin and if you leave the house, you see a quick trip in a cruiser for indecent exposure. Still, you might find somewhere to wait out his rage. Just like with your dad.

Alright, let’s cool it on the daddy issues here.

You pump your arms as your feet slap on the floor. He’s following you. You can hear him. Like a charging bull. You can’t look back. You won’t.

You veer around the corner and don’t have time to think. You don’t know where the heck you’re going. Far away from him is the only option you have. You barrel down the next hall, chest burning, head spinning. You keep going as your puffing fills your head and smothers out his pursuit.

You can’t go any further. You have to stop. You have to hide!

You open a door. Shit. It’s a closet but hey, there’s blankets. No time to think, just get in. You climb in an pulled down one of the folded waffle blankets. You shut the door, closing yourself into darkness and wrap yourself in the coveted warmth of the cotton.

You hear him catch up. He’s just on the other side of the door. He growls and his heel squeaks on the floor. He paces back and forth, opening this door and that. He might think you’re smart enough not to choose the linen closet but that means he’s learned nothing.

You wait until he’s gone. You shake your head. Having a big house is such a hassle. You can’t imagine cleaning a place like this, although he is the type to hire a cleaner so he probably doesn’t either. Still, what if you lost your phone in here?

You let the tension flow out and lean back against the wall, keeping your neck bent under the shelf. You sit, folded up in the cramped space, and resign yourself to the tight purgatory. He just needs a minute. He’ll exhaust himself with his tantrum and then you’ll be okay.

Besides, it seems pretty easy to distract. A few strokes and he’s compliant. Just like a cat. Not to mention he has the whiskers too.

👄

Despite the uncomfortable circumstance you’ve stuffed yourself into, you fall asleep. There’s something about a traumatic experience that really takes it out of you. You don’t realise you’ve dozed off until the world falls out from under you and you sprawl out on the floor outside the closet.

Your shoulder hits the cold wood and a woman lets out an exclamation, “Mr. Hansen! Mr. Hansen! There’s--” She sputters as she stares down at your dopey eyes, blinking up at her as reality slowly seeps back in, “there’s a woman!”

She flutters off and you watch after her. That must be the cleaner. How’d you call it?

As you sit up, you hear the echoing footsteps. It’s too late. You’re a goner. You clear your throat and cling to the blanket as you stand to face the music, rather, the mustache.

Lloyd charges down the hall with long strides. You peer around, realising the windows are rather bright, also noting his change of clothes. Either you slept through the night or that closet has time traveling capabilities.

“There the fuck you are,” he sneers.

“Hello, sir, fine morning--”

“Don’t,” he stops in front of you and points in your face, “here’s the deal, alright? We start over.”

“So if we’re going back to the beginning, can I go home--”

“Zip. It.” He chops the air with his hand. “You’re not leaving, let’s get that clear. Now, you are not here to talk or do whatever it is you do. You are here to serve me. You are here because you need to learn a thing or two about authority. About who the fuck I am.”

“Lloyd Jansen,” you mumble and his face pales as the vein in his forehead throbs. “Hansen!” You say louder, “understood, sir.”

“Why are you like this?” He asks.

You stare at him. You’re going to try. The olive branch he extends is brittle and thin but it’s something.

“I will be good, sir,” you put your chin, “I’ll try. I accept. Start again.” You keep yourself from saluting and instead, extend your hand to him, “deal?”

He stares you in the face then looks down at your hand. He exhales and his cheek twitches. He reaches to shake your hand firmly. He grips tightly until your bones ache. You whimper and wilt.

“Please, for the love of god,” he begs as he holds onto you, “stop talking for five minutes.”

You can’t agree. Not aloud. So, you seal your lips emphatically and nod. He lets you go and you look at your wrist but there’s no watch there. You glance at him and shrug, holding up five fingers. He sighs and pinches his nose.

“Just don’t talk unless I tell you too.”

#lloyd hansen #dark lloyd hansen #dark!lloyd hansen #lloyd hansen x reader #series #drabble #mob au #au #the man #the gray man

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fredwkong · 7 months

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Man, all of these finals just before Christmas are the worst! It makes me wonder what life would have been like if I dropped out of highschool? I wish I never went to uni, and had found another way to make money!

Unfortunately, there was some problem with the wishing system, but the genies are on the case just in time for midterms ;)

You stumble into your faculty adviser meeting, and a genie in a beanie and a tank top smirks up at you. You could have sworn your adviser looked more…buttoned-up, the last time you saw him. “Bro,” he drawls, “what’s with the threads?”

You open your mouth to protest. This isn’t your adviser, and you take pride in your button-ups and slacks! “Eh, y’know, bro,” you say, the words slurred and raspy, “just rolled out of bed.”

“That hole’s perfect, bro,” says the genie, gesturing to your armpit. “I can smell you from here.” He takes a sniff and bites his lip, fondling his crotch in his sweats.

You’re horrified, but when you look down, you see a threadbare T-shirt, a massive hole worn in the armpit with your thick pit hair spilling out. Suddenly, you’re a thick-chested tan hunk, dressed like a total bro!

But…isn’t that you? You remember dropping out of high school, instead of graduating with honours. You just wanted to chill out and get swole. Sure, you’ve never read any Freud, but you’re pretty sure you have a handle on anal retention from all the dicks you’ve ridden to make weed money.

Yeah, you remember now. College kids pay big bucks to have a dumb, musky dropout come take their loads, and you’re happy to oblige. You can’t really do the math, but you’re pretty sure being a slut makes you more money than any of these eggheads.

You raise your arms behind your head to show off your sweaty pit to your next client, who’s already pulled his cock out of his pants. “Wassup, bro,” you grunt, flexing.

Another wish fulfilled.

Got a wish you need twisted? Send an ask! Remember to say “I wish” so the genie hears exactly what you’re wishing for.

#male transformation #mental change #answered ask #male tf #muscle tf #reality change #dumber tf #musk tf #all fwkong

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enlitment · 1 month

Text

The Voltaire-Rousseau Beef aka V v. JJ part III.

for @stars-in-the-night , @headsinsand and other great (and amazingly patient) readers

part 1 ; part 2 ; part 3 ; part 4

7. THE ORPHANAGE (to be read in Eliza Hamilton's voice)

The one thing from his personal life that Rousseau is probably best remembered for is the fact that he gave up all five children he had with his long-term partner, Thérèse, to a Parisian orphanage. One after the other, in what could be called a rapid succession, a simple case of salut and adieu.

The reasons he gave for his behaviour differ from ‘I have fallen with a bad crowd in Paris and this is just what people around me did’ and ‘I basically had no other option anyway’ (not true, he could have married Thérèse and try to make it work. Sure, money was tight, and someone could make a few snarky remarks about the first baby looking surprisingly big for a six-month old or whatever, but these things happened quite regularly. Also, Diderot married his working-class mistress despite his father’s stern disapproval. Just saying) to – now this comes up somewhat later in the Confessions and is significantly darker – ‘I really hated Thérèse’s family and thought it would be better to let my kids be raised by the state than be around them’.

If this was him trying to break a cycle of generational trauma though – perhaps one of the side of his own family as well – I’d argue there were far better ways of going about it. There’s also potentially one even darker, quasi-psychoanalytical reason for this now infamous choice, but it’s probably best to steer clear of Freud. Nothing good usually comes out of it.

Of course, doing something like this would make anyone seem like a douchebag, but a guy famous for writing a treatise on how to best raise children?* Guy who repeatedly argued that the single purpose of a woman’s life is to be a mother? Now that’s a hypocrisy so deliciously juicy that one simply cannot resist sharing it with the world!

*interestingly enough, he insists in the Confessions that he wanted to reveal this information in his On Education (aka Emile), and that in one of the book's passages, he alluded to this episode in such a way that he ‘basically confessed to it already’. I haven’t found that part yet, and I remain somewhat sceptical about whether this is truly the case.

8. SECOND INTERMEZZO: VOLTAIRE THE AVID HATE-READER

V on Julie, or the New Heloise: „silly, middle-class, dirty-minded and boring“

V on Profession of Faith of a Savoyard Vicar: „I read his On Education. These are reasonings of a stupid nurse in four volumes, of which forty pages directed against Christianity. They are among the most daring that have ever been written, [but] by virtue of inconsistency worthy of this head without a brain and this Diogenes* with no heart, he uttered as much abuse against the philosophers, as against Jesus Christ.“ (letter to Damilaville, 1762)

*calling JJ ‘Diogenes’ was definitely a trend in the 1700s, and what seems like V’s go-to insult for him. Calling him a ‘lackey of Diogenes’ does potentially get a bit kink-shame-y though...

9. A MOUNTAIN AND AN AVALENCHE

The last post featured an earthquake in Portugal, now get ready for a distinctly Swiss natural disaster!

To be perfectly fair to Voltaire, although he was certainly not a person who was above spreading gossip, he did have a good reason to publish what he knew about Rousseau and let all hell break loose, since...

in Rousseau’s Letters Written from the Mountain published in 1763, JJ had exposed Voltaire as the author of the infamous Sermon of the Fifty, an anti-christian work that had the potential to get its author into serious trouble. Voltaire could not and would not let this slide – especially when he had the perfect weapon on his hands. Payback time!

Voltaire therefore went on to publish a short anonymous pamphlet titled Sentiments des Citoyens (aka How Citizens Feel – since JJ proudly called himself ‘citizen of Geneva’ in his works and he championed sentiments over reason – see, it’s all very clever!) in which he exposed details from Rousseau’s personal life. This of course included the most shocking, most hypocritical, and most memorable detail of all: Rousseau, Mr. Family First, Mr. Let’s-raise-precious-children-in-a-way-that-won’t-corrupt-their-natural-godness had dumped all of his offspring into a Parisian orphanage! Not so virtuous now, is it?

Interestingly, Rousseau never put two and two together and realised Voltaire was the real author of the fateful pamphlet. It would be interesting to see how he would react had he known.

That said, much like d’Alembert’s article on Geneva a couple of years earlier, the Sentiments des Citoyens led JJ to pick up a pen once again to do what he did best: to defend the poorest and most oppressed souls against the cruel and unjust world. Which usually just happened to be himself.

And thus, as Roger Pearson, an author of one of Voltaire's many biographies concludes:

“we have Voltaire to thank for (…) being the catalyst of Rousseau’s Confessions” which he calls “one of the world’s great autobiographies”

(no, not like that @chaotic-history. Though now I cannot unsee it every time I read the quote)

Tune in next time for the (mis)adventure in Britain which will feature:

another philosopher - David Hume - dragged into the mess

a fake letter from Frederick the Great (that was actually penned by the most messy gossip of a person in the 18th century)

a genuinely funny statue story with an appearance from d'Alembert

#voltaire #rousseau #long post #essay #jean jacques rousseau #tw: jj #philosophy #history #french history #18th century #1700s #age of enlightenment #v #thanks for everyone's patience! part four is just a day or two of reading + writing away #enlightenment #18th century drama #french philosophy

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maxwellatoms · 11 months

Note

Do you have a favorite of your own characters? Or certain ones that you feel particularly connected to? I feel like creators tend to put bits of themselves into their characters--are any of them like that for you? Just wanna say your work is a huge inspiration to me and really helped shape my art and taste in media growing up, thanks for putting your work out into the world!!!

Theoretically, I love them all.

They're all a part of me in some way.

I've discovered over the years that I just can't handle characters I can't relate to. Most specifically, Billy, Mandy, and Grim are major facets of my personality. I purposefully related them to Freud's Id, Ego, and Superego, but they're all very specifically also a part of who I am. Billy is my fun-loving lust for freedom from schedules and consequences. Mandy is the part of me that realizes that Billy will destroy us all, so there must be structure. Grim is just trying to live his life. He wants to watch TV and pet cats, but life (unlife?) just won't give him a break. He's the viewpoint character to my Asperger's.

Irwin is the sad-sack/misguided hero redeemed, which is always a trope I love.

Eris is specifically the Discordian Eris, but also the extreme end of that Billy lust for freedom and the will of the RNG gods. (Good gravy -- my current BG3 playthrough)

Nergal is my love for Lovecraftian/Howardian Mesopotamian deities as has-beens.

Jeff the Spider (quite literally me at the time of his inception) was Too Nice, and therefore a sucker.

Hoss Delgado is the knowledge that if you gaze too long into the abyss... you end up with a chainsaw for a leg.

Then (because this is a collaboration) you've got characters who are primarily created by and representative of other people. For example, Fred Fredburger was created by C.H. Greenblatt. Sperg was created by Gord Zajac (as was Hoss, really). Boogey was created by Spencer Laudiero. All of these artists infused some piece of themselves into the character.

This is (IMO) where it gets fun. It's the ultimate Role Playing Game. It's childhood play made manifest. I've got my Luke Skywalker figure and you've got your Darth Vader figure and we've got two COBRA H.I.S.S. tanks and a Muffy from Battlestar Galactica and we're gonna hash this shit out.

Ideally, I think I'd want a "Simpsons World". A world where there are zero (or as close as possible) extraneous characters. Everyone represents something and everyone matters. I was so close with B&M. Fingers crossed I get there one day.

#the grim adventures of billy and mandy #billy & mandy #maxwell atoms #characters #development

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astaroth1357 · 1 year

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Showing the OM Cast Trashy Reality TV Shows

We all have our weaknesses. Mine is called "Watching People Who Watch Reality Shows Talk About Reality Shows I'll Never Actually Watch."

Contents: Well I mean. Reality TV if that spooks you.

~♡♡♡~

Lucifer

You cannot convince me this isn't a guilty pleasure of his. I can absolutely see him pulling on some sweatpants and watching Love Island with MC on lazy day.

Sometimes, when your life is stressful, you just want to sit down and watch the DUMBEST thing possible. Pure junk food for the gray matter, you know? Can't get enough of the trashy romance shows in particular.

He gets pretty invested, even if he denies it. He'll usually pick out a favorite person or favorite couple and gets PISSED if anything happens to them. Everyone else, he couldn’t care less about.

If he misses a week, he'll get a text from MC asking if his favorite person/couple is still doing okay and nothing more. If something big happened though, he'll secretly clear his schedule so he has time to watch it with them as soon as possible.

Very "husband who says he doesn't care but the second you mention the name of a person he doesn't like, he'll go on a 20 minute tirade" sorta vibe.

Mammon

A very enthusiastic enjoyer of these kinds of shows. He loves the drama!

Definitely has one of the long running-types (like Vanderpump Rules) like a comfort show, though he mostly sticks to Demon RTV. MC isn't going to have a CLUE what 2nd Circle Beats or Devildom Dynasty is all about...

Mammon strikes me as someone who either has been on or auditioned for a reality show in the past. Just... look at him. Tell me he hasn't!

His modeling agent probably told him to so he could get better shoots... But I'll guess he was pretty popular on whatever he showed up on. Fan favorite for sure!

Would definitely show MC some of his favorite shows if they're into that short of thing. Demon RTV is.... edgier (the violence gets pretty heated) but the causes are all the same. They should be in for a good time!

Leviathan

Reality TV is for normies!! Why would he want to watch that???

The very thought of watching attractive people go on and on about their love lives makes him physically ill... Like he doesn't get enough of that stuff from Asmo and Mammon already!!

If MC is going to try and get him to watch ANY of them, it has to be a show that's almost guaranteed to be a mess from the outset like Love After Lockup or MILF Manor (which is a crime against humanity, btw. Sigmund Freud haunts us all.)

Make him sit through a second of Too Hot to Handle or F-Boy Island and he may straight up dump them. Or melt into a smoldering pile of envious goo.

If easy-watching is what they want, why can't they watch something else? Like a cuddly Slice-of-Life or some dumb card game anime?? There's even sports anime FAR more worth their investment with a billion times the substance!!

Not a reality TV fan. Keep it away from him. He'll whine, mope, or go ballistic if he has to see it.

Satan

Approaches human reality shows kind of like he's watching a nature documentary... but still laughs at the stupid bits.

Watching a trashy reality show with Satan can be pretty entertaining because he'll spend the whole time trying to grasp "human culture" from all the chaos. Or try to deconstruct why anyone would want to what these shows AS one is playing.

What's even funnier is when he makes comparisons between how things happen in the show and how they would play out in Devildom instead. Like, if a succubus catches their SO cheating, they'll either add the new partner into the relationship or behead them both. Depends on the day.

Particularly fond of one's that follow around bombastic families because then he also gets to pick apart human family dynamics in the process.

MC has to constantly remind him that a lot of it is staged and not EVERYTHING he sees to true to human life.... but it is true to human entertainment.

Asmodeus

Keeps up with both human AND demon reality shows and has even hosted a couple in the past!

He LIVES for the tea! He BREATHES in the drama! Man can't get enough!! He'll even skim through the tabloids and keeps up with any feuds like he's following genuine war updates.

Since Asmo is such a popular figure in Devildom public life, it isn't even surprising for the paparazzi to stop HIM to get a few photos and ask him his opinions on any fights or scandals.

Unlike Mammon, he's never been in one himself (MC has no idea how bloody Demon RTV can get and does he want to ruin his skin like that?? Hell no!). He doew hang out with the stars of shows he likes all of the time, though.

He sometimes has watch parties with Mammon and MC gets invited along now. Being in the middle of those two is insane because it's like getting to know ALL of the dirty laundry of the kingdom's elite at every get together. Gossipy bitches be chattin' fr.

Beelzebub

Man will watch anything as long as they supply the snacks.

Does Beel care about reality shows? No. Not even a little bit. Will he watch all 16 seasons of Married at First Sight as long as MC refills his popcorn bowl? Absolutely!

Honestly, poor Beel can hardly keep up with the drama anyway... If a show has too many love triangles, he'll lose track of who's dating who and sit there lost for an excruciating amount of time.

Was even more confused about why anyone would watch these shows after MC told them they were staged. All that shouting is over nothing...?? This is a really weird genre...

MC would have an easier time getting him invested in like... I dunno a cooking game show than anything having to do with relationship drama. Though they would run the risk of soaking the couch in drool if they try...

Belphegor

Not super into them or super against them. He'll watch one in the background until he inevitably falls asleep.

Belphie is probably one of the brothers most likely to agree to watch any reality show MC wants with them, but with the understanding that's he's only using it as an excuse for cuddle time.

Belphie weirdly has both zero emotional investment in anything happening on the screen but also a frighteningly good memory for what actually happens per episode... MC could quiz him on actor personalities, timelines, scandals, or relationships and he'll somehow always get it right.

He can tell you that Vassago and Sitri from 2nd Circle Beats are having a feud over who sent the succubus to crash Baal's birthday party, but seriously don't expect him to care. He wants soft blankets and warm bodies to nap to. Give him that and he's happy.

Part of it is just learned behavior. Belphie was Asmo's go-to watch buddy for the longest time. Whatever part of his brain that soaks up class lessons in his sleep seems to work just as well for the dramatic minutiae of a reality show, so he's like a walking DVR.

Diavolo

Thinks that all reality shows are so quaint and amusing, but they definitely skew his impression on everyday human life...

After being exposed to some of the longer running shows, he was really surprised that MC and Solomon are so... chill with each other?

I mean. They weren't throwing drinks, talking shit, or stabbing each other in the back every second of day, right? Obviously they must be quite close!

He even comments on how truly well they must get along as Master and Apprentice! Such a beautiful bond... Stronger than their natural human impulse for complete social and emotional disorder!!

(Please educate him on actual human dynamics and NOT just the ones that get dramatized for TV. We're not that bad, Dia, promise.)

Barbatos

Doesn't exactly like the shows, nor does he have time for them, but if MC likes them then he'll swallow his distain.

Honestly, Barbs looks down on the humans in reality shows even more than he does most of humanity in general. The things some of them would do to chase fame is simply... Well. He looks forward to seeing certain individuals among damned one day.

He probably busies himself by giving MC a foot rub or caring for their nails while they watch their shows. Anything that can keep his eyes off the screen.

Occasionally, something OUTRAGEOUS will happen and MC will hear him make a small scoff of disapproval, but that's about it.

He's well aware that a portion of what is presented is fake or at least staged to some degree, so he doesn't let it paint his perception of human culture. That said, he thinks that anyone who's willing to make a spectacle of themselves for a public audience speaks quite enough on its own. (And seriously don't get him started on the demon variety of these shows unless you want to seem him get grouchy).

Simeon

Also not the biggest fan, but he does enjoy getting to guiltlessly throw shade from time to time.

At some level, Simeon thinks it's a little impolite to gawk at total strangers and judge how they handle their relationships... butvon the other hand, they ARE the ones who agreed to the cameras so...

Has a strict policy to never watch reality shows in front of Luke so he doesn't get a bad influence. But also, so the little angel doesn't end up hearing the absolute INFERNO that Simeon roasts the actors with.

"Ah... So naturally gifted in all but wits!" "I do believe that young man is quite familiar... I think I once saw something much like him at the bottom of my shoe." "Mm? MC? Are you sitting on the remote? I think you may have changed the channel to Devildom TV... No? Oh. My mistake. They just seemed so heartless that I thought they'd fit in well here..."

Tearing. Scathing. His contempt cannot be contained. It is, however, a good outlet for him so please let him roast away!

Solomon

Guy is so out of touch with the modern era that watching these shows is just as bizarre to him as watching a viewing screen into a Victorian ballroom would be to us. Who keeps creating these strange words every other month...?

Reality dating shows give him whiplash. People get married now after 90 days? Or at first sight?? Or before they even SEE each other at all??? The last time he ever thought of courtship, it was still mostly arranged by the couple's families... Things have really sped up.

Not that he's complaining too much, because that gives him all the more reason to go through with his fantasy of proposing to then marry the MC in less than 12 hours (or however long before the brothers notice he's attempting to steal them away).

He feels like he has a leg up on the angels and demons around them for once because at least MC doesn't have to stop and explain human customs to him every five seconds. ... Just the modern ones.

I feel like watching Reality TV with Solomon is a very, "Let's get a little drunk and laugh at the screen" sort of affair. Very loose with a lot of jokes flying at the actors expense. He may or may not remember what all happens in the show, but hey, it's good fun!

#obey me #obey me shall we date #shall-we-date-obey-me #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me headcanons #obey me diavolo #obey me barbatos #obey me simeon #obey me solomon #obey me scenarios #obey me crack

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astroyongie · 5 months

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Why Am I This Way - Psychology Answers

Note: Another one <3 Hope this one is informative

“How Am I” Section

“I Daydream a Lot.. Is That a Problem?”

What happens in the unconscious brain:

Day dreaming has a lot to do with our unconsciousness and with the way we used to play when we were a child.

As mentioned in my first post of this series, Freud explained that the “playing” (as in child playing) were the symbolism of our subconscious and mental structure through the (Ego, Superego and the ID).

To find more about these three components you can read this post:

In his case, Winnicot explains that playing allows us to create a middle world between the reality and the unconscious which in adulthood is translated through daydreaming or creating fake scenarios

While developing the theory, Winnicott also explains that playing/daydreaming isn’t intentional and it helps people to enter a state of relaxation while lowering our inner defenses.

Daydreaming help us lowering our anxiety, our stress and the negative emotions that often pushed us into a overwhelming burnout and outbursts

Healthy daydreaming isn’t dangerous. It is helpful because one is able to lose their identities for a short instance and become something they are not in order to smooth themselves from the reality they live in.

Although some daydreams can be a reflection of inner traumas, of fears and emotions, it is done through a way that provides comfort amidst the chaos.

Although this is a short period of time, this moment of relaxation is actually beneficial and it allows our subconscious to breathe in and out before pushing our defenses back up. It help us not being constantly on edge

Daydreaming is all about finding an interesting balance between the chaotic worry associated with many of life's challenges and the boredom of doing nothing

if you are interested in more of this topics you can check the works of Winnicott and Csikszentmihalyi

So what can we do?

One thing I think is important to yell, is that NO, daydreaming doesn't male you mentally sick and doesn't mean you are suffering from mental illnesses.

Daydreaming is a natural process, the same way playing is in children. it only becomes maladaptive and underlying a serious mental condition when it is affecting your daily life and impacting your health directly or your dissociations.

What is incredible is that Csikszentmihalyi explains that daydreaming can be the key to having a happy healthy life in some way

Because daydreaming doesn’t only provide a moment of relaxation, but also a moment were our creativity can run while, where we can absorb ideas and thoughts of something positive and most importantly, a way to detach ourselves from our own human condition to find some inner peace

So what can we do? Nothing really! If anything, daydreaming is a good coping mechanism as long as it reminds you of the neutral field and doesn't directly impact your daily life.

Allow yourself to push through that creativity, to bring yourself confort. If the daydreaming is too painful to remove yourself from or if it impacts your routines and plunges you into states of dissociation then that's the moment you should seek professional help because you balanced on the negative side of daydreaming

Now, you know where to work to become a better version of yourself

#psychology #psychology facts #psychology notes #psychology appointment #mental health #therapy #maladaptive daydreaming #daydreaming #obsessive daydreaming

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spacesapphic770 · 1 year

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I'm high key obsessed with the ways Armored Core 6 gives us multiple characters that are a mirrors to 621 and/or you as a player

What follows will be spoilers that include stuff all the way up to the New Game++ ending. Don't click if you're not okay with spoilers:

There are a couple that immediately jumped out to me.

The first is V.I Freud. The first sign you get that he is a mirror to the player is that he is ranked number 1 in the arena, and his bio says people speculate that he is heavily augmented and gets unethical "updates" like snail does. But the truth is that he's not augmented and he's just someone who really fucking loves being an AC pilot. Like us as players, he's just here for the love of the experience. This is further displayed by the fact that even though he is technically commander of the Vespers, he's absent from the story until it's time to fight him. Because he has no interest in doing what Snail does, engaging in logistics and command and subterfuge. He just wants to pilot his mech. And then you finally meet him in the Fires of Raven ending... and his first action is to kill Chatty and complain about the lack of challenge. And you get this chilling mirror into what your devastation across Rubicon has been like. Every AC pilot you've taken on was loved by someone. The way Carla loved Chatty (the way I loved Chatty too). And the rest of the fight is filled with great moments, like Freud silencing Snail on the radio and him revelling in your fight... but the tone has been irreversibly changed by his cold blooded killing of Chatty. To Freud, I'm sure Chatty felt like just another side objective or Loghunt. Freud's fight is an amazing way to make the player reflect in my opinion.

THIS IS YOUR LAST CHANCE TO AVOID NG++ SPOILERS

The next one is more of a reflection to 621 in world than the player. Gun 5 Iguazu. I loved this dude and his shitty attitude from the moment I met him. He was such a perfect dickhead. Just a sassy dude. And then you read his arena bio and you realise he sasses you because he gets shit from the other redguns all the time and is scraping for any control in his life. It doesn't make him less of an ass, but you get it on some level.

Then the NG+ missions start happening, and you keep having these fights with Iguazu. It's almost funny how mad he gets and how relentless he is in trying to kill you. And he might take you down once or twice, but you can reload saves and he can't so he's doomed to fail. And he just gets angrier. He even sends a full on assassin to kill you, just to feel in control. In another world the game would be about Iguazu trying to finally beat his rival 621.

He gets more and more desperate. As you take the Coral Release ending he shows up when you ambush Snail, and he's more desparate. A few times he's mentioned a noise in his head he can't get rid of. It's a little unsettling. You continue down the path, get to the final boss, and... it's Iguazu. Sort of. He's joined with Allmind and is serving as its pilot to take you down. It's funny at first, at least I found it so. "No way! Iguazu is the final boss? Hilarious!"

Then you hear his dialogue. I had forgotten by this point that his arena bio says he's also a gen 4 augmented human. And it clicks.

In another world he really *could* have been the protagonist. He's a gen 4 like you. That noise he's been hearing? It was Allmind (And in the same way Iguazu is your reflection, Allmind is Ayre's reflection. Listen to the way Allmind talks to Iguazu. It's more manipulative than Ayre, but when Iguazu overloads your ACS Allmind tells him to take advantage of it the same way Ayre tells you to take advantage when Iguazu's ACS is overloaded). He wants to have the agency 621 has, he wants to have the skills 621 has, when he hears voices he doesn't want it to be painful... he wants a friend like 621 has. Walter says gen 4's can have trouble with their augmentations and we don't really see that with 621, but I get the impression Iguazu DOES struggle and he looks at 621 and says "Why? Why do they get to be free while I suffer?" Which becomes even more painful when you pick a fight with him at the Galia Dam.

As he says with his dying breath... he was envious of 621. And if you're anything like me it makes you reflect on things. Look into the mirror that Iguazu is and was. Think about the life 621 might have led if they weren't the chosen one who gets to be player character. This is not to say 621 does not suffer throughout AC6, because they are often treated like an object, a tool, or an animal. But it does make you think about how things would be if they weren't such a good pilot.

Anyway, yeah AC6 is good.

#armored core 6 #armored core #armored core 6 spoilers #armored core spoilers #This game makes me feel a lot of things

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hwere · 5 months

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SydCarmy | T | 2k words.

Tags: established relationship, dialogue heavy, tomfoolery.

“So, we’ve been secretly dating for three months now. I-I think we should tell the staff. For transparency’s sake, y’know? What d’you think?” Sydney’s pacing in the kitchen. She took off her shirt after spilling coffee all over it and has yet to go grab a new one. Carmy’s very much enjoying the view of his girlfriend only dressed in a burgundy bra and jeans.

It takes a minute for him to peel off his eyes from her torso and meet her gaze. “You were the one that suggested for us to take it slow, so it’s your decision. ‘m cool with whatever, Syd.” His eyes drifted down back to her smooth exposed skin.

“God, you're such an unhelpful perv,” she throws her dirty shirt at his face, he catches just in time, grinning. “I’m being serious, Carm. We’re their boss and-and our relationship could make things, like, awkward or impact the business, alright? We have to be careful.”

“We’re being careful, Syd. As careful as a relationship between two chefs who run a restaurant together can go,” he shrugs. “We don’t have to tell them, if you’re feeling so pressured about it. We can keep things low and wait for a better opportunity.”

She sighs, halting the pacing. “I know that our private life is our business only and all that, but I don’t know,” it’s her time to shrug, coming closer. Carmy immediately pushes his chair back, beckoning her to sit on his lap; she gladly complies. “I really feel like we owe them transparency about the change in our relationship.”

Carmy hums, occupied kissing and biting her neck.

“God, you are a perv,” she’s giggling, squirming in his arms. “C’mon, Carm. Or we’re gonna be late again.”

“Oh, here’s something that I learned in therapy,” he stops his ministrations on her neck, leaning back on the chair to look at her. “It’s okay to care and worry about things, but you can’t let that dictate how you live your life.”

“Oh, yeah? Please say more, Doctor Freud.” Sydney is grinning; returning his lustful gaze through her thick, long lashes. Makes a show of biting her bottom lip.

“Be a little shit about it, Syd.” He rolls his eyes, manhandling Sydney on his lap. He tightens his hold of her, stands up; carrying her bridal style. “I’m gonna show you something real Freudian.”

They’re late for work, again.

A ‘better opportunity’ ends up presenting itself a few days later on the biweekly original staff’s meeting. Something that Richie, of all people, suggested to improve their communication and teamwork; a safe space—except for Fak, as Richie proclaimed as the self-proclaimed HR—to throw ideas and voice your complaints. It proved to be a success so far.

“Does anyone have anything else to add?” Carmy asks, looking up from his clipboard. They’re on the front of the house, an hour after closing. “Alright. Sydney.” He doesn’t elaborate, just waits. She’s sitting beside Natalie, laughing about something.

“Yeah?”

“Didn’t you have something to say?”

She’s momentarily lost, chuckles nervously when she realizes what he’s referencing. “Oh. You wanna do this right now?”

“Now’s as good a time as any,” he nods. Only under torture would Carmy ever admit out loud that putting Sydney on the spot like that was his way to get payback from her not shutting down immediately a customer’s repeatedly attempts to flirt with her earlier. The man really had the audacity to come to their restaurant to flirt with his girl.

“Carm…” She stands up, comes close. “Are you sure?”

“You were the one that suggested, Syd. Are you sure?” He’s slightly aware that he’s probably being shitty right now, but Sydney only gives him a pointed look, shakes her head and turns around to face the staff.

“Fucking spill it already, Syd. We all wanna go home,” Richie urges, nonchalantly dusting his lapels. The rest of the staff makes noises of agreement.

“We, uhh. I-I mean, me and Carmy, we’re… uhh,” she looks around the room, scratching her brow. Her eyes land on his and she takes a deep breath, facing the crew once again. “We’re dating.” Her voice comes out firm. “We’ve been dating for about three months now and we just thought to, like, tell you about it for transparency’s sake. Yeah.” She finishes, nodding.

The room is silent for some uncomfortable seconds.

“Kinda late for an April’s Fool joke, no?” As always, Richie’s the first one to voice his thoughts.

“Three months?” Natalie says, stunned.

“Mami, what about the guy you were seeing?” Tina asks, scrunching her eyebrows. “What’s his name? Alex?” Carmy turns to Sydney, who absolutely refuses to look at him.

“Who’s Alex, Syd?” He inquires.

“It was, like, two dates, T.” She ignores him. “And Richie, you’re always calling us mom and dad. What do you mean by April’s Fool joke?”

“Yeah. As a joke, Syd. You’re not even his type,” Richie sniffs.

“I’m sorry?” Sydney barks at the same time Carmy goes “Richie. Shut the fuck up!” The older man puts his hands up in mocked surrender. “Sydney. Who the fuck is Alex?”

“Yo, Syd. Weren’t you the one saying that dating in the workplace was weird and inappropriate?” Marcus asks and there’s something in his voice that forces Carmy to look between the two of them. Sydney seems mortified, scratching her brows again.

“Y-Yeah. I, hm, did say that.”

“What about Claire, Carmy? I thought you were trying to get back with her.” Of course Fak would feel the need to mention his ex in the conversation, as if the whole thing wasn’t uncomfortable enough as it was.

“We broke up months ago, Fak. I haven’t seen her since.”

“I think it was more than two dates with the Alex guy, Syd. I ran into you guys once and there were at least two times that you showed up late,” Gary offers, resting his chin on his hand.

“That was a, hm, a different guy, Sweeps.” Carmy almost has a whiplash due to how fast he whips his head around to look at her. So, at some point she saw two different guys and there was something between her and Marcus? And he didn’t know about it?

“Everybody, shut the fuck up,” Natalie demands and the room goes quiet. “So, you’re actually dating each other? Dating as in dating? Not an elaborate prank or something?” She inquires, looking suspiciously between the two of them.

“Yes!” They answer at the same time.

“Okay… I have questions. How did that happen?” Natalie crosses her arms.

“That’s none of your business, Sugar,” Carmy says, starts to blush.

“Which sounds like a code to we were fucking this whole time. Wait a min—holy shit. They’ve been using the working on the menu thing excuse to fuck around!” Richie puts his fist in front of his mouth, laughing. When Carmy and Sydney stutter a retort at the same time, his laughter grows louder. “I can’t fucking believe it!”

“That’s an HR violation, Richie.” Marcus offers, seemingly taking pity on them.

“Well, Syd and Cousin over here walked themselves into this one.”

“Oh, just like you walked into my knife, Richie?”

“Point taken.” Once again, he puts his hands up in mocked surrender.

“Richie, are you allergic to shutting the fuck up or something?” Natalie groans. “I still have questions! How did no one find out? Like, none of you were not even remotely suspicious about these two?” She looks around, all the staff shaking their heads.

“We decided to take things slow, y’know?” Sydney finally manages to say, looking at Carmy for support; he nods. “We wanted to keep our personal life, well, personal, but also keep things professional. This, hm, conversation was supposed to be for transparency and to assure all of you that nothing changes.”

“I feel like a lot has changed, to be honest.” Marcus mutters and Carmy need this conversation to be over so he can inquire Sydney about whatever the fuck happened between them. She’s currently sending guilty looks towards Marcus.

Angel clasps his hands together, “alright, just to get this straight and wrap this up. You guys are dating, right?”

“Oh my god, yes!” Sydney sounds almost exasperated now.

“Congratulations?” Ebraheim offers.

“Can we go now?” Manny points towards the door.

“Hold on! I’m still not buying it.” Richie opens his mouth one more time and Carmy deems that he had enough. He puts his clipboard down, walks to Sydney, holds her face with both hands and kisses her.

He doesn’t care how out of character the public display of affection is from them. This was supposed to be a ‘just crossing some things out of our list’ kind of conversation, but of course they turned into a full circus. So now, he was going to give them a proper show.

“That is an HR violation,” Richie proclaims when the couple are breaking apart. “Expect to hear from me tomorrow.” With that, the staff starts gathering their things to leave.

“Just so you know, I’m not done with you two.” Natalie faux threatens with a smile.

“You have yet to answer me who’s Alex.” They’re back at their kitchen. Sydney’s sitting at the counter wearing her favorite faded Snoopy t-shirt, no bra this time, and a black sweatpants she stole from him, while Carmy is shirtless, his only item of clothing being a gray sweatpants hanging low on his hips; fixing supper for them.

“Christ! He’s just some guy, Carm. I met him twice – it didn’t go anywhere,” she groans. “Before you ask, the guy Sweeps was talking about is Mike. He’s an old colleague from CIA. We had a date, hooked up once and that was it.” Carmy’s left eye twitches with Sydney being so dismissive of this information. He’s trying so hard to not let his jealousy take over him. “And both of them happened way before you confessed your feelings for me.”

He nods, he knows that. When he finally got the courage to ask Sydney out on a real date and be honest about his feelings, things moved pretty quickly between them and they’ve been together ever since. “What about Marcus?”

“Oh!” He looks back, catches her fidgeting with a loose thread of the sweatpants and biting her lip. “He… sorta asked me out before the opening on Friends and Family,” she says all at once, taking a steadying breath after. “That’s why he, hm, kinda snapped at me.” Whatever she sees on his face when she looks up has her putting her hands up and shaking her head, adding quickly, “but we’re good now! It’s water under the bridge, y’know?”

Carmy only nods again, moving to set down the table.

“Are you mad?”

“Not with you, but mostly jealous,” he mutters, avoiding her eyes.

“What if I told you that you look real hot right now, all bothered and jealous?” She murmurs against his left shoulder blade, both of her hands resting against his pecs.

“Sydney.”

“Carmen.” She plants a kiss on his nape, still holding his pecs. “I didn’t tell you about it for the same reason you don’t talk about Claire – there’s no point. It’s in the past.” Sydney moves her hands to hug his waist properly, resting her head on his back. He covers her hands, where they’re laying against his stomach, with his own.

“Next time a customer flirts with you, you better tell them to fuck off ‘cause you have a boyfriend.” Carmy not only hears, but feels the tremble of Sydney’s laughter.

“Oh, so that’s what that was about.” She untangles herself from him and he immediately misses the comfort of her warmth; turns around to grab her hips, keeping her close. “I was wondering why you were being so distant during service and then decided, out of the blue, to tell the staff about us. So, you’re both jealous and possessive, huh?”

“You shouldn’t play with fire, Sydney.”

“I’m not afraid of getting myself burned, Carmen.”

#the bear #carmy x sydney #sydcarmy #sydney adamu #carmy berzatto #fanfiction #y writes

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