#i remember saying ‘i don’t know who he is’ and it felt right

[d3vdgvrlll]

trauma ig

@gorelvr and anyone else who wanted it

i’ll start from the begining because it’s the one thing that will make my story similar to others. it will have a begining and an end just like anyone else’s. i have been sexually abused since i was seven years old. my cousin joe (obv not his real name i was in israel at the time) he was considerably older than me. 13, not too bad, but at the time it felt like a worlds difference. it didn’t start slowly, not at all, and pieces of it i don’t even remember. i do remember closets tho. it wasn’t just an rape either. he wanted me to like it- either that or he was just sadistic. he would make me smile and beg for it, make me please him as a lover, told me it was right since i was his blood. in fact, he would draw this blood quite often. he would pinch me, beat me, cut me, anything to make me cry, because he had a rule. if i cried, he could come back to use me again. he would do anything to draw out a mere sound of discomfort, anything, any excuse so that he could come into my room at night and violate me. he called me his wife. he called me his girl. and in my native tongue i had to tell him i loved him as well. when i was 9, after two years of this, with no one believing me (and if you ask how it’s possible, youve clearly never heard of arabic jewish culture-) i move to america. i lived in chicago, and suddenly, i was a normal girl. sure, i couldn’t speak english but i was clean. no longer dirty. i was far away from joe and i thought maybe id be far from the pain too. i was far from the bombs that rang in my ears as i walked home, the desolate shelters littered around playgrounds, the constant whisper of “you are never safe” far behind me. i was ahead of everyone else, and when i heard that another one of my childhood friends died of an attack, it didn’t feel better, but at least it wasn’t me. at least it wasn’t me.

this is where i met a friend named lucie. she was the first female friend id ever had. my wonderful grandma, who was like a second mother to me (at the time when she was alive my mother was still kind, the lines on her face less pronounced, her words filled with less poison) signed me up for swimming classes with lucie. after swimming class, me and lucie would shower together. it’s started off because i had conditioner that she needed for her blond hair, conditioner that i was willing to give up to her because she was so much whiter than me, so much purer. she then asked me for favors. to touch her. she’s press me against the wall and kiss me, and when i resisted, she wouldn’t even react. she asked me for more. she said “if you do it well this time, you won’t have to do it again.” and “kiss me for longer this time, you only did two seconds, you promised ten” and each request, no matter how hard it was for me to do, was done. and each time, there came another. no matter how much she promised it’d be the last one, there was always more. i couldn’t get away from it. i was trapped. i was scared, and i wanted her to be my friend. she taught me that if u don’t give people ur body, they won’t stay. she taught me that im worthless besides what i can offer to others. she taught me everything i know and live by, and then she left anyways .

seventh grade- i had a very nice science teacher. i was doing very well in his class. his name i really cannot say because he is still teaching at the school in illinois, and no one has believed me, no matter what i insist happened. we were doing a bridge project. i was failing, because my grandma was dying. she was dying, and she was my everything. watching her- it was the hardest thing i’d ever done. but i couldn’t avert my eyes because it felt sinful. it felt wrong to look away because it was hard to watch- she was my grandma after all, the one who raised me, loved me, showed me the good in the world. so i watched. i watched and stayed with her and read her books she couldn’t hear me reciting while she lay in her hospice bed barely breathing. i wrote down the stories she told me through her tubes, and i tried to imagine that the wires connected to her were flowers instead, that she was somewhere were her grimace was rlly a smile. she stayed alive until my birthday, my 12th birthday, because she didn’t want to ruin it. she stayed alive, in pain, riddled with so much terror, to see me turn 12. one day, i walked into her room and spoke to her, and watching her eyes try to open, her oxygen intake spike up, her stiff limbs try to reach me- it killed me. i love her and always will. it feels awful to group her with this awful man- my science teacher, but in this story they do go together, unlike in real life where my grandma was such a big and powerful woman she always stood alone. or with me. i digress, the man- let’s call him Mr.P- he failed me. i was excelling- frankly, because im very smart and quite good with physics and such, but he still failed me. (shortly after this whole ordeal i was neurologically tested and i have an IQ of 156). i walked into his class one day, and all i can remember is him smiling, saying that he would give me an oppurtunity for extra credit, but that it had to be secret- you can tell where this is going. i had already learned from lucie that nothing is good abt me besides my body, and so when he took mine, the second person to- i could just sit and cry. at least this man let me cry- at least this one didn’t kill my hair to get a reaction, with the promise of hurting me more the less i liked it. i don’t remember much besides my face being pressed against vents on the side of the classroom. i would “wake up” (ptsd) with blood between my thighs, and cuts on my face from the metal on the vents, because of how hard he shoved my face in them. he had a daughter- she was 6 at the time. when i graduated, he told me he’d do the same to her. that was the first time i cut myself. because i knew i couldn’t stop him. i knew that i couldn’t do anything. i knew that what lucid taught me was wrong. my body wasn’t even special- it wasn’t even “worth it”, it was just available.

i moved all over the US, living in austin, chicago, colorado, and florida for the longest times. chicago was my home though, and i know the city like the back of my hand. this is not something many people can say, but i survived being homeless in chicago during the polar vortex. for those who don’t know, the polar vortex is a phenomena that happens every year. winds from the arctic pass through canada and end up in the midwest, chilling the air to roughly -58 degrees F or lower. after my grandma died, my mother became mean. angry. she scared me. she hit me. it’s too much to get into and frankly, i live with her and my dad now and i feel odd talking abt it. it’s my current reality as well, but what i learned from them is that words mean nothing. so i wont spend them here. after a week of being homeless and running to and from school, living in an underpass, someone started walking “home” with me. his name was pat. this is the man i often reference in posts. he was my best friend, not at this time tho. we walked home together for weeks, not speaking a word to each other, until one day i caught an awful case of pneumonia, the second time id fallen ill with it in the month. this time, i couldn’t walk, stand, breathe, or talk. i was passed out when he found me, at least that’s what he told me. he said he carried me to his friends house and that’s were they saved me. his friends name was biscuit, and biscuit ended up being a huge drug dealer. he kept me in his attic- it had a hole in the roof but it was better than dying in the cold. i had already lost my left foot to frostbite- i still can’t feel it but i can walk on it now, which is better than before. in the attic, and idk much abt it because rlly the memory is so hazy- sometimes i wake up in a cold sweat bc im back there, and sometimes idk if im dreaming or if its real- but rlly truly i dont know for sure what happened. all i know is that biscuit used to bring his friends up there, while i was healing (they put tons of drugs in me idek what they used to help me get better but im pretty sure it was a combo of depressants and steroids)- they would pass me around. i just get hazes- visions sort of. i dont even remember. i remeber the feeling of their hands tho, and suddenly feeling a lot colder, feeling the wind on my bare skin. i remember waking up with wind rash and scabs from cigarette burns. i don’t remeber enough o accuse anyone of anything though, so i didn’t mention it to pat. in my head, he didn’t even know. i was wrong ofcourse- he knew. he always knew.

when we got better and went back to our respective homes, we stayed very close. we formed a trauma bond. codependcy. it was wonderful while it lasted, but soon, he started to fall for me. he never raped me, but he did other things. i don’t care to specify at the moment because i fear ive already gone into prolific detail about things i never wanted to think about again. truthfully, i love pat. i do. i hold no hatred towards him, and i really don’t like to talk about all the bad things he did to me, because he was my sweet boy. i never loved him like that- he was just my best friend, but when i speak about him people don’t seem to understand. he understood me, and it’s just. hard to talk about because there’s so much to say. i can’t write it all down in this small part of a bigger story because i have so much to say about him that i’d rather just give it out in pieces. if you see something tagged with #pat or #i miss him, it’s probably about him.

idk what else to say. i’ve been manipulated many times since. used, beat, thrown away. at least pat had the decency to lie to me about it while he did. i’ve never been anyone’s first choice, and i’ve never felt as loved as i did when i had him. he was my best friend, and while this story isn’t about him, it’s hardly about me either. long story short, people used me because they could. i was available. i was around. i used to feel like a victim until i realized im just not special enough to be that. im not special enough to be anything to anyone, and my body wasn’t even “chosen” to be used because its me, it was just convenience. idk. that’s as much as im willing to share. there’s more but - for now this is enough.

[insidekatmind]

Between desire and regret-Vinicius jr.

Wearning: mention of sex, english is not my first language.

The music was beating in your timpani, vibrating in sync with your heart. The dress you wore was definitely short, more like a provocation than a dress. You felt the looks on you, but you didn’t care. The alcohol in your veins made you feel invincible, and every step on the dance floor was a cry for freedom. You laughed with your friends, their voices overpowered by the fast rhythm.

At one point, as you lost yourself in the movements of your body, a shadow approached. You recognized him immediately: Vinícius Jr., with that mischievous smile on his face and the eyes that shone with defiance.

"Have you fun?" he say over the music, getting close enough to make you smell her.

"Very much," you replied, continuing to dance without stopping staring.

"So did I," he replied with a smile that made you feel your cheeks burning. Before you knew it, his hands were on your hips, and you moved together, the rest of the world gone.

Your bodies came ever closer together. Every touch, every contact seemed to set the air on fire between you. Then it happened: his lips on yours. You let go completely, forgetting who he was, forgetting everything.

---

When you opened your eyes the next morning, everything was confused. Your head was pounding with a throbbing pain, your throat looked like sandpaper, and your legs were heavy as lead. You looked around, trying to figure out where you were. It wasn’t your room.

Then you saw him. Vinícius was lying next to you, the sheet covering his hips, his hair ruffled and that predator smile printed on his face and especially his abs in plain sight.

"Good morning," he said in a husky voice, evidently amused by your bewildered look.

"What happened?" whispers, the voice a thread broken by sore throat.

"Do you not remember?" he asked, his head tilting and staring with those damned deep eyes.

"I remember... dancing..." you replied slowly, as fragmented images flared up in your mind. His hands on your hips, his lips on yours, your skin touching... your groans... you praying to Vinicius for more

You took a hand to your forehead, mentally cursing yourself. Of all people, he!

"Ah, now remember," commented Vinícius, the smile that widened as he approached you. "You had fun last night, I can guarantee it."

"I can’t believe I did..." you mumbled, trying to cover your face with your hands.

But he was faster. He took your wrists softly, lowering his hands to look you in the eyes. "Hey," he muttered, his voice strangely sweet. She brought your hands to her lips and kissed them gently.

"You don’t have to be ashamed," he added, the tone of someone who knows that you’re in control. "You were great last night. You are amazing."

His gaze was so intense that you felt tremble. You wanted to protest, tell him it wouldn’t happen again, that he was arrogant and unbearable, but the words stuck in his throat.

"Vinícius, I can’t believe I just gave in to you," you confessed at the end, feeling your cheeks turn hot.

He laughed softly, the deep sound that made you shiver. "Are you the one who gave in to me? Or were we both victims of the same desire?"

I was speechless, my heart beating as he came closer still. " I promise not to take advantage of your regret," he said with a mischievous smile. "But know that I will not forget you easily."

And as he stared at you, you knew he was right. Neither would you.

[inmyheaddd]

walkin out the door with your bags — grayson hawthorne x reader — part 7

⤷ “pour your glass of wine // mitchell told me i should be just fine,”

summary: you and grayson haven’t talked in a while, and things stir up in the world around you and in your mind. luckily, you have the best best friend by your side. wc: 2.0k a/n: hey siri.. play two people by gracie abrams… (said sadly) series masterlist — other parts

previously on part 6…

“he looked at you like he didn’t know what to say, his mouth opening and closing before he finally settled on just staying silent.

you still felt like there was a million unspoken words that needed to be said, but you turned and walked away. 

for once, you didn’t wait to see if he’d try again.

you willed your feet to move and not think about how he looked behind you, because if you did, even for a second, you had a feeling you’d turn right back.”

—

it had been a few weeks since you and grayson stopped talking. yeah— weeks. that was the longest you had gone without talking to him since you’ve known him. isn’t that strange?

it was driving you crazy, the amount of times you saw something that reminded you of him, or your friendship, and you wanted to send it to him, only to remember you couldn’t. you weren’t friends, and you had him blocked on basically everything.

or the amount of times you saw something only the two of you would understand, something that would’ve made you laugh, and just feel saddened by it. it felt like your memories were split between the two of you. 

there was a thing that was even stranger, though— he had started seeing someone. 

at least that’s what it looked like, with the posts she’d put on her social media. she had posted a picture of the back of a blonde head you could recognize anywhere in-front of the sunset, and one of her walking with someone holding her shopping bags— and the hand had the faintest scar on it’s thumb, it was almost impossible to notice. and it was a scar that only you knew the backstory to. 

there was that— and the countless paparazzi photos online— ‘grayson hawthorne’s possible new girlfriend? the mysterious blonde hawthorne has a new hot date! grayson and his interesting new friend ella spotted in…’ it was sickening. 

he would go to extreme lengths to never have paparazzi find you back when you hung out. always in quiet, secluded areas. you never thought much of it before, but now it looked like it had a whole new meaning.

was he embarrassed? did he not want to be seen with you? did he— you off your thoughts before you spiraled.

she was gorgeous, you couldn’t deny it.

and the worst part? she was an absolute sweetheart. there wasn’t a single reason to hate her.

you hated yourself more for even looking for a reason to. 

the thing is though, he was never yours. sure, he wiped the tears off of your cheeks when you cried, gave you the kisses you could only dream of, confided in you about things he didn’t tell his family, and he was your best friend. but he was never simply just yours.

besides, you were the one who made sure that any chance of you happening was gone permanently. he asked to talk, and you talked. then you went home crying. 

this was grayson you were talking about: if he wanted something, he found a way to get it. that being said, if he wanted to be with you, or even just still be your friend, he would’ve said something. 

he didn’t. 

if ella was what he wanted, then you just had to deal with it.

you weren’t ever like this, you promised yourself you would never be that girl. green and sick with jealousy, questioning her own self worth. 

but hey, you promised each other you’d be there for each other always, did you not? seems like promises didn’t mean all that much anymore. 

—

“you don’t get it, gigi.” you exclaimed frustratedly as you wiped your angry tears away. 

you had just stormed out of a club you were at with your friends. the bustling music and bright flashing lights stopped again as the door shut behind gigi, after she ran after you. the music could still be heard slightly, but it was muffled heavily behind the door.

your friends wanted you to go kiss random guys, drink until you couldn’t feel anything, and for a few days, you did. and it almost worked, but it just made you feel horrible now. a few of them even made crude jokes about grayson and ella.

you didn’t feel like yourself— you didn’t even like yourself. how could you ever expect grayson to?

“he just doesn’t care if i look pretty, or if i’m doing better, or any of these other things.” you pointed out exaggeratedly, knowing you were taking it out on the wrong person, but you couldn’t stop yourself. 

“you know what?” you said through a cruel chuckle. “the worst part is that he would probably be happy for me that i’m moving on, or looking better, being myself, or whatever the hell you guys say i should do.” 

you gestured to the door of the buildings where the rest of your friends sat, frustration running all the way to your fingertips.

“he wouldn’t get jealous.” you said, angry at yourself that you got jealous. “he’s a good person, and that’s why it hurts so much. that’s why i’m ‘not over it in 2 weeks like i usually am.’” you continued, almost choking on your words by now. 

you were so angry that all your friends expected you to just get over it. they don’t know what its like to feel that kind of love one day, and find out the other person didn’t even think of you like that.

to find out that he thought of someone else like that. 

and somehow, even through the pounding of your ears and burning throat, you had even more to say. 

“he’s surrounded by pretty girls every day, gigi, the only difference is he actually wants to be with one, and it’s not me. and that’s fine.” you put on your most level voice, and after a moment added, “it has to be fine.” 

you sniffled, and decided from then on you were not going to let grayson hawthorne, or more so the lack of him, dictate your life for a second longer.

gigi stood there wide eyes, her mouth opening to speak, then shutting. then opening again, then shutting. “i…” she managed, and your heart almost tore as you noticed her eyes were glossy now. 

fuck, you messed up. 

“geeg,” you took a tentative step towards her, the nickname coming out before you could even think. you held out a hand as if to stop her from moving, “wait, gigi—“

“— no, i’m sorry. i messed everything up.” she shook her head apologetically as she looked at you, her voice breaking, and in turn breaking your heart. “i— you guys were perfect friends before. and i, i— i ruined it all by trying to play matchmaker.” 

“what?” you breathed out, rapidly shaking your head. “no no no, none of this is your fault. you didn’t do anything, i was stupid, and he kissed me. those were our choices, you didn’t force anything— i didn’t mean to take it out on you. you did nothing wrong gigi,”

“stop,” she said through a forced laugh, bringing herself to smile. you knew it was a fake one, and she knew you knew. but she kept on smiling anyway. 

“it’s okay, you don’t have to say that.” she spoke through a laugh, a bleak contrast to the pained expression on her face. it was tearing your soul by the second. she wiped her eyes with the back of her hand harshly. 

“i should’ve just left everything alone.” gigi tore here eyes away from you, and to the ground. “why do i never leave anything alone?“ she exhaled through a sad laugh. you noticed she started to talk faster, and more so speaking to herself. you picked up on her hands fiddling with themselves, then she toyed with the hem of her shirt. 

“no, gigi, look at me.” you waited until her wide blue eyes locked on yours, her wet lashes clumped together. “you didn’t do anything wrong.”

“i did though, and now gray isn’t acting like himself, you’re not okay, and i’m the worst best friend and sister in the world.” 

“gigi,” you gave her a sympathetic look as your shoulders sagged. you couldn’t begin to think about how you could express how much you loved her.

you pulled her into a hug, and her arms stayed glued to her sides for a moment, before finally hugging you back 10x harder. 

you screwed your eyes shut as you felt her cry on your shoulder. 

“geeg, you have no idea how light my life got the second you entered it,” you mumbled into the hug. “and, i mean— so what if me and grayson aren’t friends anymore? that doesn’t matter, not as much as your friendship matters.”

gigis breathing slowed, and she was sniffling now. the thing that mattered was that she wasn’t crying. 

you continued, “he’s not the one i dance with late at night and watch shitty reality tv with in bed the next morning. he’s not the one who i laugh wicker the stupidest things with for hours on end. he’s not the person i text first when something happens. he’s not my best friend.” 

not anymore, and he probably never would be ever again.

you felt gigi laugh sadly through a sniffle, still on your shoulder. she was silent for a long moment. then she mumbled, “we’re pretty damn amazing, aren’t we?” she lifted her head and looked at you. 

“yeah, we sort of are.” you smiled at her, watching as she wiped her tears and took a deep breath in. 

“you know,” she mumbled, “i really really hate my brother.” she said as she straightened her clothes, exhaling a long breath as she shook her head. 

“yeah,” you sighed, lying straight through your teeth. “me and you both.” 

you more so hated him because you couldn’t really hate him. not fully hate him, anyway. 

gigi let the lie slide straight through, changing the subject with a laugh as she leaned forward and fluffed up your hair. 

“let’s get inside before we get hypothermia.” she took your hand and led you to the door, “our outfits are not built for the cold.” 

“oh, yeah. i know that’s for sure.” you laughed, faking shivering and clattering your teeth. you followed gigi into the doors of the music and bright lights.

for once, you actually looking forward to the night you had ahead of you. 

because, you knew you and gigi would grab your purses and go straight home, rewatch your favorite movies until sunrise, and then spend the day dancing to your favorite songs with your favorite person. and repeat until you ran out of baked goods and coffee. 

that was what healing was. to you at least.

—

“okay but like,” gigi said, before popping another marshmallow in her mouth. 

“have you seen yourself? it’s like, your eyes like— hold the secrets to the universe in them.” she swore solemnly, raising her eyebrows for added effect. “i could look in them forever and eveeerrrrr.”

she tilted her head, eyes widening as she dragged the last word; looking like she was in a hypnotized state.

“gigi, stop.” you laughed as you felt your face redden, pushing her shoulder away.

“sorry,” she didn’t let her act slip up for a single second. “i��m just a little mesmerized right now.” 

“you’re not funny,” the laugh threatening to break out said otherwise. 

“just give me a moment. i’m just committing this scene to memory so i’ll see you in my dreams,” her voice was all robot-like, she always knew how to cheer you up in the most ridiculous ways. “the day isn’t enough time—“

“shut up,” you giggled, hiding your face as gigi leaned back, throwing her head back in laughter.

you shook your head, rubbing your eyes as you continued to chuckle. once you’d both settled down, gigi spoke again, more serious this time.

she leaned her head back on the couch, looking at you fondly. “i’m sorry my brother is a d1 douche bag. if he had a dollar every time he was literally the worst person ever, he’d be richer than avery.” 

you managed a small laugh. “tell me about it,” you said, then after a moment of giggles, you spoke again. “i love you more, geeg. way more than you know.”

—

it was bordering between late night and early morning when you woke up. gigi’s limbs were strewn across the king-sized bed you lay on. you could hear her soft snores. 

you turned over and gave her a glance, and her hair was all over the place in the most endearing, gigi way. 

she’s going to struggle with that tomorrow, you thought. you laughed to yourself, before reaching over blindly for your phone, the notifications of which you forgot to silence, being the whole reason you were awake now. 

2:32 the time read, and you scrolled down to read your notifications. 

your smile faded faster than you could ever imagine. there was a crater in your chest, and a hole in your stomach.

earlier notifications:

**A blocked number wants to message you. Accept?**

— I’m sorry. — I’ve made many mistakes in my life. I can’t let losing you be another. 

**Tap here to delete this message, and all previous conversation.**

a/n: gigi my girl ☹️ sorry for the recent influx of angst help idk what happened taglist: @x-liv25-jamieswife @wish-i-were-heather @thecircularlibrary @whatsamongus @littlemissmentallyunstable

@anintellectualintellectual @lovethornes @maybxlle @sheisntyou @emelia07

@midiosaamor @sweetreveriee @charsoamerican @hxress23 @imaseabear 

@clarissaweasley-10  @off-to-the-r4ces @thelov3lybookworm @graysw1fe @lanterns-and-daydreams

@hermesenthusiast @moonnsstruckksworld @that-daughter-of-hephaestus @apollosmusee @hijabi-desi-bookworm 

@goldi-1-graysons-version @saigonharrington

[eternal-love]

GIRLFRIEND

Pairing: Sebastian Kydd x Female!Reader

Summary: It’s your first time being with Sebastian alone. And you never liked how Carrie treated him anyways.

Warning: cheating, sex.

Note: for my darling @aust-een who’s also a sebastian girl. Me and my homies hate Carrie Bradshaw (i’m just like her)

You found yourself alone on the diner, Carrie, Maggie, Mouse and Walt had all told you that they would come too— turns out they lied.

You ordered a burger and sat down alone to eat it in the booth, that’s when you saw Carrie’s oh-so-gorgeous boyfriend, Sebastian. His blond and tall frame shone anywhere he went, he turned towards you and smiled, he walked towards you, you panicked but at the same time you were glad that Donna wasn’t there because she would have totally stolen his attention.

“Hey, y/l/n.” He sat down, with that awful smile of his that made you giggle like a child.

“Hey, Sebastian.” You smiled at him, pushing away your burger and fries. “I thought you’d be with Carrie.”

“I could’ve. But my father told me we could have lunch together…” Sebastian trailed off. “But he left me hanging again.”

“That’s a bummer. What a dick, no offense.” You said, he laughed and shook his head.

“And you, why aren’t you with them in New York?” Sebastian asked, confused. You were a friend group, weren’t you?

But you had no idea that the other had gone to New York with Carrie.

“I had no idea we were going to New York.” You said with a smirk as you grabbed a French fry, you were hurt, of course.

They had excluded you once again.

“Well, they left us both behind.” He laughed as he carelessly started to eat your French fries too.

This was it, it was your opportunity.

“We should hang out.” You said, like a suggestion but you really wanted him to say yes. Sebastian simply smiled and nodded.

“My house or yours?”

You were in his house, he had been kind enough to give you something to drink, albeit, you two started drinking his father’s whisky.

“So you and Carrie have been having problems?” You asked, playing with the glass in your hands.

“What? Why? I don’t,” Sebastian was cut off mid sentence by you.

“Because she’s been bad-mouthing you with us.” You said after cutting him off.

You were doing something that wasn’t in girl’s code, but Carrie hadn’t exactly followed girl’s code since you met.

“I don’t believe you.” Sebastian said, shaking his head.

Busted. You were busted. You tried to think of something, you tried to remember all the times you had to console Carrie after a fight with Sebastian and out of rage she over-talked.

“She does. She says you’re too carefree. Pampered and spoiled.” You lied again, Carrie had never said those words.

Sebastian stared at you, his mouth wide open. He couldn’t believe it, he believed you, you were a good girl and a good friend. But he had a hard time accepting it because he knew that Carrie would say those words.

“Really?” He looked up at you, his eyes glimmered with insecurity. A part of you felt bad, but then again, you really wanted Sebastian for yourself.

“I’m sorry, Seb…” You reached for his hand, squeezing it.

You were dying inside, really. Screeching really.

“I know she tries to be good to you but it never works.” You said, trying to appear comforting.

Sebastián didn’t even say anything, he just kept drinking the whisky.

“You’ve got any boyfriend?” Sebastian asked, trying to change topics.

“Not really. I’m the only single one.” You answered, you were indeed the only one in the friend group who was still single.

“Nah.” Sebastian shook his head while laughing. “You’re bluffing me. You’re gorgeous, how come?”

He called you gorgeous, this was going well.

“I haven’t found the right one yet. And I doubt I’ll ever find him.” You said, lying, of course. Because the one was sitting besides you.

“You will. He’s somewhere out there.” Sebastian said with a smile, bringing the glass to his lips one more time.

You didn’t know if to answer or not, so you stayed silent. And the silence continued, shit, you should’ve answered.

“Somehow, we always get abandoned by the guys.” You said, chuckling. The friend group always seemed to forget to tell you or him about any plan.

“Maybe it’s us against the world.” Sebastian rolled his eyes as he smiled, his hand instinctively going to your knee.

“I like how us sound.” You smiled at him once again, did you ever stop smiling at his direction?

There was a silence before your mind passed on like a train. A part of you wanted to be a good friend and be liked by Carrie and your ‘friends’ but a part of you wanted to get back at her and finally get what you want.

So you leaned in, your lips immediately finding Sebastian’s, you had seen him and Carrie kiss many times, how quickly their kisses would turn into make out sessions. And that wasn’t a reservation for Carrie’s lips, because he was quick to grab your jaw to deepen the kiss.

His tongue dancing with your as he kissed you hungrily, and so did you. You were finally getting what you had been dreaming for months. His kissed were really passionate and hot, you felt yourself getting hotter by the minute.

He pulled you into his lap so you’d straddle him, continuing the kiss. Until he pulled away, his big hand on your cheek.

“This shouldn’t be happening.” Sebastian said, your face fell, shit, was he backing up now?

“What? Why not? You know that Carrie doesn’t care about you.” You said immediately, you stumbled upon your words, your nervousness and guilt were eating you up from inside.

“This is not about Carrie.” He sighed. Your hand went to his chest.

“Then what is it about?” You looked at him with puppy eyes.

“You’re a mess, y/n, no offense. I don’t care if this will be my revenge on Carrie or whatever but I would never take advantage of a distraught girl.”

Aw, you melted completely. You had never wanted to get laid this bad before.

“I’m not drunk, I’m just nervous.” You whispered before leaning down again.

Your lips on his again and your tongue made its way inside his mouth. He moaned into your mouth as well as groaning as he grinned his hips against yours.

“Can you feel how you get me going, y/l/n?” He said as he went to kiss your neck with wet kisses. As you straddled his lap, you fell the hardness of his cock through his pants, it was pressing against your thigh.

You moan in response, his plump lips felt like heaven all over you. He could do anything to you know, you were at his disposition.

It didn’t take long before he laid you down on the couch, he crawled on top of you as he continued to kiss you, his hand went exploring your whole body, until they reached the hem of your pants, his middle finger played with it, as well as with your underwear hem.

He unbuttoned your jeans and helped you take them off, he threw them onto the floor. His attention was then again all on you, his hand teased the sides of your pelvis, drawing small circles with his fingers.

“Please…” it escaped your mouth, but you were in the clouds, you didn’t even notice.

“Good girl.” He muttered softly as his hand pulled aside your already damp underwear, his finger traced your wet slick, making your back arch. That’s how badly you wanted Sebastian.

His thumb went to rub your palpitating clog, he was gentle, he was just getting you ready! You were a moaning mess, you seemed so desperate that it was embarrassing.

“Such a desperate girl.” He didn’t even think Carrie or Donna had ever been a mess like this. But you were different. Specially because of the moans you let out once he inserted two of his long fingers. “There we go…”

He said, curling both his fingers inside of you as his thumb still rubbed your clit. You were up in space. That’s for sure.

You both ended up on his bed, he fucked made love to you and you were smiling ear to ear. Your face buried in his neck as your hand traced his torso.

“You know, Carrie-“ you placed your finger on his lips before starting to kiss his neck.

To be honest, the last thing in Sebastian’s mind right now was Carrie.

It was another day at school, it had been two weeks since you slept with Sebastian. You always saw him with Carrie. But now you knew him.

The way he looked at you, and even when he was talking with Carrie, he was thinking of you. He could do better than Carrie, better than a girl who broke up with him every time she found a slight thing wrong in him or her own life. She didn’t treat him right, he deserved someone like you.

You could be his girlfriend, because you knew he liked you and it wasn’t a secret.

You wanted Carrie to disappear, she was so whatever.

But he was getting sick of it, sick of you looking so hot all the time. With your big hair, your jeans, he hated how tempting you were. One day, he pulled you into a classroom.

“This is what you wanted?” He asked as he towered over you, looking like a total snack.

“I want you to break up with her.” You said, smiling at him.

“Only a girl like you would want their best friend’s boyfriend.” He placed his hands on your waist, playing with the hem of your shirt.

“Best friend? She’s not my best friend. She’s so stupid, I don’t know what the hell were you thinking.” You said, leaning in to kiss him, he was a few inches away still.

“Such a slut.” He whispered before kissing you.

Sebastian knew he had to break up with Carrie, he needed a new girlfriend anyways. And you were that girl, the girl he needed. It left everyone speechless when Sebastian broke up with Carrie and a week later, he was seen with you.

The friend group didn’t even take a second glance before bad mouthing you every time they hung out and saw you and Sebastian on his car. You were living the life, enjoying it while it lasted.

Because with a guy like Sebastian, you never knew.

I’ve had this is drafts since last Wednesday, because I finally finished my final projects!!

[luminousdecay]

Together forever - Illustration for a quick fiction I wrote about them

Read It on AO3

twitter / bluesky

///

A new beginning

A few moments ago everything was noises and colors, you closed your eyes and you only felt the reassuring presence in front of you, connecting from your foreheads and your hands. And then in a bursting white light, everything vanished. The nothingness is what hits you first and for a brief moment you disappear.

//

White light is piercing through your eyelids, making you get back to consciousness. You raise your hand to protect yourself from this new luminosity. You felt the grass, slightly fresh and humid against your bareback, and the sound of silence in your ears. A muffle sound of someone awaking next to you and you open your eyes. You see the hand in front of you. At first it seems it is not yours or from a distant and faded memory. Pink white skin and some iridescent volutes here and there. You quickly get out of your contemplation as another sound comes from your left. Jayce is here grumbling. You rise slowly and get on your feet, no pain, no difficulty. Your body is like your hands, pale skin and organic iridescence shapes. You take a first hesitant step before assuring your pace. You feel well, better than you've ever been, no discomfort, and you can feel much more the warmth of the sun on your skin, and the soft wind easing it.

You come closer to your partner : “Jayce ?”. He suddenly opens his eyes, a slight panic on his face. As he sees you his gaze softens and he sights : “Viktor, is that, is that you ?” There is some desperation in his look and voice. You answer, looking at your newly re acquired skin : “Yes. I guess it is me or, well, another new version of me” you smile as you are thinking about how much your appearance evolved in those past months, a true scientific case ! But him, apart from the new beard, shaggy hair and the pearlescent “crown” your hand gave him, he remains the same self, the same reassuring and glowy presence. He stands up quickly testing his bad leg, confused, but satisfied he can put weight on it.

You don’t have time to ask if everything is alright, that he is on you, embracing you. -Ah, Jayce and his constant need to touch-. You feel his warmth, it is like your new skin finally remembers what touch truly feels, and you give his hug back savouring his presence and the sensation, and he squeezes harder. After a few quiet moments he breaks the contact and takes you by the shoulders to have a better look at yourself. You felt his gaze roam over your body and as he does he smiles with disbelief in his eyes and reddish tone on his cheeks. He says, for him, in a whisper “you are beautiful” and louder “you … we are alive, in one piece and … well ?” and then proceeds to hug you once more and you can feel the laugh in his chest and your smile widening.

Suddenly he steps away looking unsure. “Well, first you probably feel the need to be a bit more … cover up ?” It is right, you are bare skin except where your blanket is attached on your shoulder. You caress it, it feels reassuring, “ I do appreciate the new sensations, or more precisely the old ones” You look at him “but yes some decency could do no harm, would you help me tie it up ?”. As you begin to unfold the fabric to put it around yourself like you did all these months before he approaches and helps you out. His touch is less confident than before and he moves delicately his hands around you. “You know Jayce, I will not break if you touch me, my condition since a few moments ago didn’t change” you say with amusement in your voice. “I know it is just that … I am still processing, and you were basically dead a few days ago and then … everything”. You catch his eyes “And who’s fault ?” your tone is mocking. He looks a bit embarrassed “Touché, but it was on your order, or another and hairier version of yourself”. You smile “I don’t think I meant to kill myself, you know talking could have been a solution”. He answers, still amused “ hey, am I the man of the action or not ?”. You both laugh, it feels good.

Elegantly covered up you look around yourself “ It is so strange, it seems that I have been there before, I have the same feeling from when I was in the arcane” you are watching at the almost endless grassy and wavy field, you spot some forest afar “but as you can see it is far more consistent” you look at your bare feet firmly grounded in the grass. Jayce is also looking around himself with a slight worry in his brows. You step forward and after a brief moment of hesitation you touch him on the shoulder. He looks at you surprised as your hand slides along his arm and your hands are joining. “Let’s go explore the world” you said facing the wilderness, and you look at him in the eyes “I can’t wait to see and experience what the possibilities in front of me have to offer” and you proceed to walk. He doesn’t immediately follow, forcing you to turn back : “Viktor I will never abandon you again” and on that you answer “I know, and you never did”. A brief moment passes and he joins you at your side, eyes glistening and a smile on his face, your hands are still firmly bonded, he adds: “Then go and I will follow”. And you both walk into this new intimidating but beautiful and quiet place.

[petalsonmoon]

one touch but you felt enough... you are in love.

(writing so i don’t think about the manga. for the wellness of my mental health. thank you for reading <3)

there's this thing shouto does

it's all too fresh. you can't even tell what you guys are.

shoto is a very sincere yet blank person. you can't read in his expression what he's feeling nor can you interpret his little actions. but if you ask him what he thinks about something he’ll express his opinion in the most clear and gentle way possible.

the course to what you both are now it's werdly cute. you noticed this little something he did because, well, who didn't notice the presence of shouto todoroki? he's the personification of kindness and quietude and tranquility. turns out these definitions created the most beautiful person you've ever seen.

and by noticing the details you noticed the overall and by doing that you two ended up getting closer and closer. you could rely on him to come to your dorm to tell you dinner was ready and be right there by your side during it and you would find him during his training or studing sessions to give him a water bottle. you would’ve thought that with a quirk like that he'd remember to drink it, right? he didn't.

you two would find easement in each others patience and honesty. it's actually being there for each other and not jumping any steps and boundaries that made you two unintentionally friends.

so on third year todoroki, being his straghforwardly serene person that he was, appeared in your dorm and cofessed to you how he had an affection for you for quite some time now, how much your time together was heightening to being the most comfortable he's been with someone and asked you if you wanted to stay by his side from now on.

those were his words. like, c'mon.

so you said yes. that you very much feel much calmer in his presence and would be absolutely happy to be by his side.

that was 2 weeks ago.

since then you noticed this little thing he did.

which is funny, to perceive a slight action from someone whose words were his main character.

and you wait for it to happen at least three times before saying anything.

right now you were in the communal space, sitting in the sofa while your remaining colleagues were still stretching after a 2 hour movie and chatting the plot away,

it was summer so the air conditioner was on. a few glasses with only ice could be found on the coffee table.

you were next to shoto, by his right, smuggled between him and furniture’s arm. you turn to look at him and gets irritated how his profile is so fucking powerful.

“do you like fantasy movies?” you whisper to him. he thinks about it for a moment.

“i like them” he replies, gazing down at his hands. “but they’re not my preference.”

“and what would that be?” you start fidgeting with your fingers, very slighly.

he takes a deep breath and squint his eyes for a second. he turns his eyes to you and you have to seriously fight your lungs to not hold it’s breath just because your heat leaped a beat.

“romcoms.” he says under his breath, expression clearly blank.

you pinched your lips trying not to let the chuckle escape. it makes sense, actually.

“can i ask why?”

“they’re very entertaning.” he comteplates softly “not too much going on but you can always have a great time and even a good laugh.”

he finishes his thought and looks away, satisfied. you can’t help but feel your body sink in fondness.

“that’s true. they’re always nice.” you reply.

“what about you?”

“my favorite genre?”

he nods and looks at you again.

“i would say...” you look down and think how you’d already know the answer. would he think less of you for being too different from his likes? “drama? with a bit of suspense in it?”

he nods in response and you don’t feel his eyes on your face anymore. you’re both looking at your hands.

“it makes sense.” he concludes after a moment and you look up at him, intrigued. “they’re always very interesting.”

tou let the little smile in your mouth win and checks around discretely, after seeing only a few people far in the kitchen you leave a gentle kiss on his shoulder.

the little smile also make an appearance on his face for a millisecond.

 “i also really like animation.” You say.

his eyebrows go up for a second. “yes, some of them are really impressive.”

“they have a way to make hugs so beautiful and comforting...” you let it out before even thinking. that’s just how comforting it was being with him.

“oh. the studio ghibli embraces, isn’t it?” he completes.

“yes! it’s really profound somehow and sometimes a hug like that is all you need.” you look away and shiver. it is hot but you did not go well with air conditioners. the temperature people tend to feel content at usually was the same one where you needed to be in a hoodie. but that was a unimportant fact that would die with you.

“hm” he replies “i think princess mononoke is my favorite one...”

“it makes sense.”

he turns to you once again, expressionless. “does it?”

“uhum.” you feel your body shivering again “it’s very humane and important...”

“what else?” he whisper.

“and emotional and romantic... it’s perfect, really.” you hold his gaze, already wanting to stay there forever.

and then he does it.

right when you conclude your description you feel his fingertips slowly touching yours with such tenderness and delicacy you’d almost miss it, if you didn’t also automatically felt your body warming up to the exact condition for you to feel perfectly comfortable.

“oh, shouto...” you let it espace, feeling like you could cry. you didn’t say a word about your issue but he noticed. he noticed you.

he interlocks your fingers and takes your knuckles to his mouth, placing a warm and short kiss there.

“it seems to me that it’s your favorite movie too.”

you move your free hand and position it in the back of his head, your fingers starts moving sweetly and he closes his eyes.

you take the opportunity to kiss him. he immediately responds and kisses you completely. his kiss is slow and patient and sure and you feel yourself melting in your feelings for him. your hand on his head makes sure to intensify the kiss and shoto lets a delicious and lovely sound escape his throat.

you pull back for a second. “i’m feeling a bit lightheaded.”

his eyebrowls furrowing and his eyes sparkling.

“like i’m in a romcom.”

[heartsandstars46]

Comfort part 2

Still lots of fluffy comfort and connection, but this part got a tiny bit spicy… 🔥 (brief nudity, nothing graphic) 

fem reader x bf tasm!Peter 🩷

Word count: under 1k

Part 1

“How do you do this? Like, you come home with someone else’s blood on you, and that’s just ‘another day at the office’. How is that not unnerving?”

You were sitting on the counter in the bathroom, gently wiping the dirt and blood off Peter’s face, neck, chest with a warm washcloth… and also rambling a bit because he still seemed withdrawn.

“Or maybe I’m just not cut out for life as a superhero.” When he didn’t respond, you poked him in the shoulder. “Hey.”

“Huh?”

“Where are you right now?”

He smiled. “Here with you,” but even he didn’t seem convinced. You knew he was replaying the whole night in his head, trying to pinpoint his failures, the way he did with Gwen's death. (Not that he’d told you as much; that had been revealed by the things he said in his nightmares.)

“Okay, then can you do me a favor? Can you stay here with me?” You squeezed his hand. “Don’t make me go all ‘five things you can see, four things you can touch," because I will.”

He smirked. “Well, here’s one thing I can see.” He tugged at the now-filthy collar of the Ramones shirt you were wearing. “At least I ruined my own shirt and not yours.”

“Who’s to say it’s ruined? I am capable of getting a stain out, you know—as well as not turning everything in the wash red and blue.”

“Yeah, yeah, rub it in,” he said, but you were both laughing. “Let me get you something clean to wear.”

“Not blood-stained is really all I’m looking for—it’s a low bar.”

“Whew, thank god for that.”

When Peter returned, he did have a shirt in his hands, but he stopped short.

“What’s wrong?”

He smiled, studying you. “I just like that you wear my clothes when I’m not here.”

You were surprised by how much that comment fluttered your stomach. “Even though I can name more Ramones songs than you?”

“That was one time! And ‘Don’t Worry about Me’ is solo Joey, so that shouldn’t even count!”

“Why not? It might as well be the Peter Parker anthem.” You raised an eyebrow at him. “You always carry the weight of the world on your shoulders and are just like, ‘No thanks, I got it,’ even when it’s about to crush you.” You normally wouldn’t have teased him on such a rough night, but it seemed to be distracting him.

“That sass is gonna get you in trouble, girl. I could tickle you at any time.”

“Nooo!” You were laughing as you batted away his hands. “Well, for the record, I like it too—wearing your shirts, I mean. It makes it feel like you’re here when you’re not.”

He smiled. “Good. I’m glad.” He took the washcloth from you. “Okay, your turn.”

He gently began to wipe clean your neck and chin. Then he stopped and laughed nervously.

“What’s wrong?”

“The dirt and stuff kind of goes under your collar. Like, and I swear this is not a ploy, it would be easier….”

You stared at him. Then the lightbulb lit and you found yourself tripping over your words. “Oh! It would be easier if I took off my shirt. Or, technically, your shirt, I guess.”

“Yeah. I swear I’m not just trying to get you naked.”

You touched his cheek and gave your own nervous laugh. “I would hope not, given the horrific fluorescent lighting in here .”

“First of all, you are exquisite in any lighting—or no lighting.”

You blushed, remembering his heightened vision.

“What if I worked quick and kept you covered up?”

You had no idea how he was going to accomplish that, but you agreed nonetheless. You trusted him to take care of you. He gently lifted the shirt over your head and you shivered. You felt incredibly shy. There was something so much easier about being naked and vulnerable in the dark. You hoped you looked okay; that your body wasn’t disappointing when bathed in all this light.

Though he quickly averted his eyes, you did catch Peter looking, somewhat awestruck, at your naked breasts for a second, and you felt your heart beat faster. 

“Okay,” he softly, wrapping one arm around your back and pulling you against him so that you were “covered up” by his body. Your bare skin pressed against his. “Be honest. Is this okay?” He looked into your eyes.

It was okay, and you said so.

As you were skin-to-skin with the man you loved, everything all at once was intoxicating--his physical warmth and his heartbeat and his hands tenderly pulling your hair back and cleaning off your neck and collarbone....

“Still doing okay? Do I need to ask you for five things you can see?”

You laughed and, heart pounding, impulsively kissed him.

“What was that for?” He asked, amused.

You just kind of shrug/laughed. You couldn’t have put it into words anyway. He chuckled, drying off your neck and collarbone.

“Okay, much better. Sorry again for getting you all dirty. Ready?”

No, you were never ready to give up that level of closeness. But you two could only ever be entwined for so long. You always had to go back to separate bodies and beings.

“Yep.”

Just before helping you into his shirt, he leaned  in and whispered, “You are exquisite in fluorescent lighting too.” He kissed the top of your head, then pulled his clean t-shirt over it.

“Thanks for taking care of me,” you whispered, grasping his hand and interlacing your fingers.

He tilted his head with a smile. “Who do you think I learned it from?” He squeezed your hand. “Only the best.”

[ibijau]

Daemon AU / On A03 An AU never dies, it just goes on artificial comma until I'm reading to pick it up again. And so does this particular one return to life, three years after it last updated. Including this, I now have three chapters ready to post, so they'll put shared whenever I remember to do it A note on it: in this AU, cultivators are like witches and can be apart from their daemons (...in most cases anyway)(previous chapters dealt with Nie Huaisang and his botched separation from his daemon). Unlike witches, cultivator's daemons can take a number of forms. Jiang Cheng's daemon is a black dog called Fengyu. Wei Wuxian's daemon is a black swan called Pashou.

The pile of papers on Jiang Cheng's desk refused to get any lower no matter how many hours he wasted on it. Cries for help, bills, a staggering number of marriage offers, a less surprising quantity of veiled threats against his weakened sect, and a bunch of other bullshit that Jiang Cheng disliked having to deal with. It shouldn’t even have been his to deal with. If his sect were properly run, then his first disciple would be handling most of that correspondence, leaving him to deal only with important messages and with training the disciples, like his parents used to do.

Wei Wuxian used to be the first disciple of Yunmeng Jiang back then, just as he was now. But while he had respected Jiang Fengmian enough to actually do the tasks asked of him, he mostly ignored Jiang Cheng’s orders and fucked off to get drunk all day long. Apparently his contribution in the Sunshot Campaign meant he never had to help anyone ever again. At least, so Fengyu and Jiang Cheng thought, when they talked about it late at night, bitter and lonely.

Inspecting a letter, Jiang Cheng nonchalantly dropped his free hand to pet Fengyu, as he often did when he was upset. He wasn’t particularly paying attention to her, just needing the reminder that he was fully alone to deal with this, even if Wei Wuxian had all but abandoned him. Of course he had his sister, and he had his disciples who were all fiercely loyal in spite of being recent recruits, but it wasn’t the same. Jiang Yanli couldn’t help with anything relating to martial art, even if she helped run other aspects of the sect, and the new disciples didn’t know about Yunmeng Jiang’s traditions, unlike Wei Wuxian who should have been teaching them, or giving Jiang Cheng the time to teach them.

Feeling his anger rise higher, Jiang Cheng started scratching Fengyu’s back, only for it to feel off. The sensation was all wrong, nothing at all like the usual coarseness of her dog fur. It felt more like…

Jiang Cheng froze, terrified to move his hand or to let himself finish that thought. He did not dare look down at the daemon laying down on a little seat next to his.

He didn’t have to look, because right then Wei Wuxian returned, Fengyu trailing behind him. It was something she did sometimes. Someone had to look after him, she’d say, and Pashou simply wasn’t the same since the Sunshot Campaign, always falling asleep somewhere. It was a disgrace really, just as annoying as Wei Wuxian’s new habit of going around without a sword.

Jiang Cheng didn’t remember Fengyu saying she would be following him that day, but he wouldn’t have stopped her anyway. Someone really did need to take care of Wei Wuxian.

Only, if it hadn’t been Fengyu next to him all afternoon, then…

“Did you even move from that desk today?” Wei Wuxian teased as he came closer, swaying on his feet, a sure sign that he’d drank far too much again. “Jiang Cheng, don’t you have disciples to train?”

“Whose fault is it if I can’t train them?” Jiang Cheng snapped, loud enough that it startled the daemon next to him.

Pashou’s head rose, blinking sleepily and looking around. She seemed almost surprised to find herself in Jiang Cheng’s office, and looked up at him as if he might explain to her what she was doing there.

“Look at your daemon!” Jiang Cheng snarled, while he absolutely refused to meet Pashou’s eyes. “How much have you had to drink for her to be in that state?”

“Not much,” Wei Wuxian protested.

“A lot,” Fengyu muttered at the same time, trotting toward Jiang Cheng.

Fengyu headbutted Pashou to make her leave her seat, but poor Pashou was in such a daze that she started falling to the side. Jiang Cheng moved to grab her, only barely stopping himself from actually touching her. Pashou fell to the floor with a dull thud, while Fengyu shot Jiang Cheng a puzzled look.

Jiang Cheng straightened his back and ignored both daemons, bringing his attention back to Wei Wuxian who was so drunk it didn’t seem to shock him that Jiang Cheng had nearly touched his daemon, something even a baby wouldn’t have done.

He was so drunk he probably hadn’t even felt that all afternoon, Jiang Cheng had been mindlessly petting Pashou as if she were his.

It made no sense.

Wei Wuxian had the excuse of wine, but Jiang Cheng didn’t. He should have noticed at the first brush of his fingers against black feathers. It wasn’t just that petting a dog and a bird should have felt different, it was the fact that he should have been shocked at the contact with someone else’s soul.

Jiang Cheng wondered, not for the first time, how much Baoshan Sanren had changed him when she had given him a new golden core, how inhuman she had made him that day.

And he had to be less human than he used to be. Only a monster could touch someone else’s daemon and feel nothing.

“You’re a disgrace,” Jiang Cheng exclaimed, unsure if he meant Pashou, Wei Wuxian, or himself. “How long are you going to continue shaming our sect this way?”

Somewhere on the floor, Pashou muttered a weak ‘sorry’, while Wei Wuxian came closer and picked her up with a laugh, as if none of this mattered to him.

“She’s just a little tired,” Wei Wuxian claimed, struggling to hold her, as if her weight were almost too much for him. She was a large swan after all. “Jiang Cheng, don’t be so grumpy. Drop your work and let’s go have wine by the lake.”

“Some of us have responsibilities,” Jiang Cheng retorted, glaring at his first disciple, annoyed that for some reason, it felt wrong to see Wei Wuxian holding Pashou like this. Refusing to dwell on this, Jiang Cheng looked for something else to focus on. He easily found it. “Where’s your sword?”

Wei Wuxian rolled his eyes and tried to ignore the question, which only encouraged Jiang Cheng to insist until they fell into a full blown argument. He only stopped shouting at Wei Wuxian when Jiang Yanli, alerted by the noise, came to reconcile them as she always did, offering affection and soup for both of them.

It usually worked, because in spite of his temper Jiang Cheng desperately wanted to be happy with his sister and Wei Wuxian. That night though, the soup tasted of nothing. And every time his eyes fell again on Pashou, Jiang Cheng was reminded that for all that he criticised Wei Wuxian’s behaviour since the end of the war, he too had returned changed.

[ofthemorningstars]

Cruel-Hearted Beasts

TerzOmega ~ Family Fic ~ Hurt/Comfort ~ Resurrection AU

3.8k words AO3 Version

" 'Now listen here, donna malvagia, I will not stand for my girls being treated like criminals, like second-class citizens! They have just as much of a right to stand up for themselves as anyone else!' Terzo roared.

'If you didn’t want your children to be treated like second-class citizens, perhaps you shouldn’t have laid down with a ghoul,' Ms. Voss sneered. "

Terzo and Omega's daughters (8 and 5) learn an unfortunate lesson about discrimination against ghouls within the ministry. CW: discrimination, vague depiction of light violence ---

Starlight stood over the rat-faced boy in the dirt, fist clenched and chest heaving. Her eyes were wide, full of anger and adrenaline and disbelief. 

She didn't know what happened. When she had heard her baby sister scream, had felt her calling out for help with her quintessence, she began blindly sprinting for the source of her plea. As she approached the scene and saw Astrid on the ground shielding her face against the older boy’s foot, ready to kick the helpless five year old, she lost it. She tackled him, sitting on his stomach and punching him repeatedly in the face, seeing red. 

The assault only ended when a Sister pulled her off of him, setting her down on her feet in front of Astrid. A young teenager stepped in to play referee, keeping the two offending parties apart until the Sister returned from wherever she had run off to. Starlight took Astrid by the hand and pulled her to her feet, dusting her off and examining her. Luckily she didn’t appear to be hurt physically, but her face was stained with tears and snot. Starlight wiped her little sister’s nose with her sleeve. “What did that boy do to you?” Starlight growled through gritted teeth, baring her fangs. Astrid only looked away, eyes fixed on her shoes as they filled with fresh tears. Starlight hugged her tightly, letting her sister cry into her shirt. When the Sister returned, it was with the director of their little makeshift school in tow, who glowered at them as she approached. As she helped the boy to his feet with what Starlight considered to be a little too much kindness, the girl growled again, a low rumble in her chest. The director shot her a look out of the corner of her eye, scrunching her nose up in what she could’ve sworn was disgust. “In my office, now! Both of you!” Her voice was just barely below a shout. Astrid whimpered, clinging to her sister. Starlight puffed out her chest in defiant outrage. 

“What?! But Astrid didn’t do anything, Ms. Voss! Avery was the one who–” “Enough! Save it, I don’t want to hear another word.” Ms. Voss marched them inside from the courtyard, down the ministry’s long hallways and into a cramped, dimly lit office. She motioned for them to sit down when Starlight stood there rubbing her arm uncomfortably. 

“Hitting another of the ministry’s children is absolutely unacceptable! We’ll call your parents and see what they have to say about all of this.” She spat the word “parents” in a way that made Starlight’s anger bubble up again, wondering why she said it like that. “I’m sure they won’t be pleased to hear about their daughter bloodying another child.” Starlight stiffened; she didn’t remember seeing any blood. She couldn’t tell if the woman was bluffing. 

They sat in uncomfortable silence, the girls holding hands, Starlight occasionally giving her sister a reassuring squeeze. She tried silently reaching out to Astrid with her quintessence, but to her dismay found herself being blocked out. The older girl’s heart began pounding in her chest as she heard footsteps racing down the hallway and the murmuring of voices, voices that she’d recognize anywhere. Their Papa burst through the door first, eyes wild and searching. When they landed on his daughters, he swiftly crossed the room to them, kneeling on the cold marble floor and placing a hand on each of their faces. “Oh, le mie dolci ragazze, are you alright? What happened, tell me what–” Terzo started before being rudely cut off by the sound of Ms. Voss aggressively clearing her throat. Starlight’s gaze flicked up to her as she rose to her feet, leaning forward on her desk with a grave look on her face. “Your daughters–,” there was that tone again, “--have disrupted class yet again, this time beating up a fellow child! Their behavior is disgraceful, especially in a place of unholy worship! We have rules, standards that must be followed!” She was beginning to look maroon, strands of her normally neat hair falling in her face. It was Omega’s turn to clear his throat. Starlight hadn’t even seen him come in. He looked uncharacteristically angry, his normally placid features masking barely concealed fury. “ Our daughters would never strike someone unless they were defending themselves,” Omega hissed through clenched teeth. His jaw was tight, his fists balled at his sides. Foolishly, Ms. Voss didn’t back down at this; if she was intimidated at all, she didn’t show it. “I’m afraid if they cannot behave in a civilized manner, they will no longer be allowed to mingle with the other children. We cannot have their influence rubbing off on the rest of them. We have allowed them to poison the flock long enough!” The vein in her forehead was popping out. Terzo shot to his feet, outraged. 

“Now listen here, donna malvagia, I will not stand for my girls being treated like criminals, like second-class citizens! They have just as much of a right to stand up for themselves as anyone else!” Terzo roared. 

“If you didn’t want your children to be treated like second-class citizens, perhaps you shouldn’t have laid down with a ghoul,” Ms. Voss sneered. 

Starlight’s dusky grey skin flushed dark purple, and Astrid began to sob, cowering against her sister. Omega had to drag all of them out of the room before things could escalate further, Terzo screaming and spitting all the way down the hall.

When they got back to their quarters, Terzo slammed the door behind him, leaning on it heavily and looking like he was trying not to let angry tears escape. Omega scooped up a still-crying Astrid, rubbing her back and shushing her as she buried her face in his shirt. Starlight took one of Terzo’s shaking hands in hers, looking up at him with eyes full of shame and sadness. Terzo did shed a tear then, lifting her hand to his mouth and kissing the back of it. “La mia coraggiosa bambina. Please. What happened today? Do not listen to a word that vile woman said.” When Starlight hesitated, Terzo led them all to the kitchen table. Astrid sat in Omega’s lap, holding onto him for dear life and hiding her face. Terzo gave his oldest daughter a patient touch on the arm, and she swallowed hard. “I don't… know, Papa. Astrid called out for me, and then I was hitting him, I–” Starlight choked up, losing her battle against her tears. “She was on the ground, I saw Avery ab-about to kick her in the face and I just went crazy…” She bit her lip against a sob. “I didn’t know what to do. She’s my baby sister…” she trailed off in a whisper. Omega growled low beside her, losing the battle against his rage. Terzo stared at her slack-jawed. “Kick her… in the face…” Terzo repeated, as though unable to believe what he was hearing. His eyes shot to his youngest daughter, his features etched with sorrow. He got up to kneel beside Omega, brushing the hair out of Astrid’s face when she turned to look at him. She leaned into his touch, her mismatched eyes red and puffy. “What did he do to you, il mio piccolo amore?” “He pushed me d-down, Papa. He called me a-a ‘filthy ghoul’. He s-said that you were a disgrace to the name Emeritus for… for…” Astrid broke down into a fresh round of tears. Omega shushed her, running a hand through her hair. Starlight was stunned, unable to comprehend why someone would say something like that, especially to such a young child. As Terzo returned to his seat, Starlight could tell that their Papa had more questions, but was unwilling to push the already distraught girl any further. 

“Papa. Daddy. Why would someone say that to her? What’s wrong with being a ghoul?” Starlight asked, pain evident in her voice. She saw her parents exchange a long, agonized look as they sat in uncomfortable silence. Omega was the first to speak up, pulling Astrid closer to his chest. 

“My sweet girls… We were hoping that this conversation could wait until you were a little older.” Omega pinched the bridge of his nose. “I don’t really know how to say this...” 

“Within the ministry, ghouls have been looked down on and treated as servants for centuries. For as long as the ministry has been around, really. Things didn’t change until a few years before you were born, after your Papa d–” Omega cut himself off, quickly looking for a way to rephrase whatever it was that he had been about to say. “After your Papa was taken out of power. But then Uncle Copia became the one in charge and brought him back. When Papa agreed to work for the ministry again, his only condition was that the ghouls were freed from their servitude and were to be treated as equals.” She saw her Papa nod out of the corner of her eye

“But a lot of the people who have been in the clergy for a long time got used to them being regarded poorly.” Terzo took over. “They don’t respect ghouls, they still expect them to be subservient.” He was beginning to get worked up. “They are ignorant, they have hatred in their hearts. It is why Daddy and I waited so long to have you. We had to keep our relationship a secret.” 

“I don’t understand why they don’t like us, Papa!” Starlight’s voice broke, her vision becoming blurry with tears. “We’re people too!” She heard her Daddy sniffle, turning around to see him wiping at his eyes. She had rarely seen him cry before, and it left her shaken. “I don’t understand it either, la mia bellissima principessa,” Terzo said softly as he smoothed Starlight’s hair. “There are many wicked, cruel-hearted beasts that live within the ministry’s halls, and none of them are ghouls.” 

“You are not, and will never be, lesser than any human. You are incredibly special, and so very loved. We will never stop fighting for you. For all of us.” There was an air of finality in Omega’s voice that stressed the sincerity of his words. He meant it. “I do not think that we should send you back there. Clearly, it is not a safe or nurturing environment. Daddy is home nearly every day, he will do an excellent job of educating you.” Terzo didn’t sound like he was giving them a choice. “But Papa, we have friends there! Not everyone is like that, some of the kids are really nice!” Starlight pleaded, but Terzo’s face was set. “Papa…” Astrid’s voice was timid at first as she looked up from Omega’s chest. “I don’t want to leave my friends,” she sniffled. “It’s not fair, I d-don’t understand what I did wrong!” She began to hyperventilate, little claws digging into the fabric of Omega’s shirt, threatening to tear it. “I'm s-sorry, Papa! Please don’t make me leave!” she gasped between breaths. Terzo’s expression softened. Omega looked broken, rocking Astrid cradled in his arms as though she were a baby again. 

“I–” Terzo hesitated, interrupted by Astrid’s heart-wrenching cries. He appeared to think for a long minute, clumsily running his hands through his own hair. “Look. I will call Uncle Copia in the morning and tell him about everything that has happened. I do not want to take you away from your friends,” he assured them both gently. “You cannot go back with things being the way that they are now. But maybe he can pull some strings and… help fix this. Tomorrow you will stay home so that we can get things sorted out. Ok?” Starlight nodded. It took Astrid a little while to calm down again, but once her breathing returned to normal, she nodded as well. They sat with their parents at the table for a while, being comforted until they were settled enough to go on with their night as a family. When they were able to handle parting, Omega cooked everyone dinner while the girls sat curled up with their Papa on the sofa, going through family photo albums and baby books. Their parents had worked hard to meticulously document their lives together since being able to live in the open as a couple. They wanted to hold onto all of their cherished memories, preserving them for both themselves and their children. Maybe for their grandchildren as well, someday, if they were lucky. “Papa,” Astrid asked, sounding more like herself than she had all day. “Are there any pictures of when you and Daddy got married?” Terzo made a face like he’d just sucked on a lemon. “Ah… Unfortunately not. We got married a very long time ago, alone and in secret.” He didn’t need to say why their wedding happened under such circumstances. It lingered heavily in the air, darkening the atmosphere again. “When did you get married?” Starlight asked, trying to lift the mood. Terzo chuckled brightly. “Over thirty years ago now.” His expression was wistful. “Wow, that’s a long time!” Astrid said in awe. “You’re old, Papa.” Terzo winced. “I know, my darling. I know.” 

When Omega called them for dinner, Starlight and Astrid raced each other to the kitchen, quickly cleaning their plates and asking for seconds. Starlight hadn’t realized how hungry she had been; they had been pulled out of class before their afternoon snack, but the horrors of the day had numbed them both to the passage of time. 

Omega decided that they would be turning in early that night when an exhausted Astrid nearly fell asleep in her ice cream. They quickly took baths and got ready for bed. Astrid was out the second her head hit the pillow. Starlight was wide awake, but skipped her nightly bedtime story. She wasn’t feeling up to it. She was still deeply affected by the things she had heard. By the agony she had felt radiating off of her baby sister, and later, her Daddy. Omega didn’t need his quintessence to pick up on her distress, but he could use it to ease it away. He sat down on the edge of her bed and took her hand in his, squeezing. Leaning down, he pressed their foreheads together, an unnecessary but comforting step for them when they connected. Her mind was flooded with tranquil waves of warmth and peace, their bond overflowing with unconditional love. Soon her eyelids began to feel heavy. The last thing she remembered before the world went dark was the feeling of her Daddy kissing her cheek.

—

Terzo was perched on the edge of their bed, anxiously biting his nails nearly down to the beds while he waited for Omega to return from getting Starlight to sleep. He hadn’t intended to leave before both of his girls were asleep, but he knew the energy he was giving off wasn’t conducive to helping sensitive little quintessence ghouls rest. He felt sick to his stomach with worry. He hurt for his children, for his husband. None of them deserved any of this. Guilt consumed him, his inability to protect his family making him feel like a failure. Suddenly he felt a hand on his shoulder, making him jump. He had been so wrapped up in his thoughts that he hadn’t noticed Omega approaching. He peered up at his husband, trying to give him his most convincing smile. Omega wasn’t buying it. “Tesoro mio, I can feel you down the hallway. I don’t know why you bother trying to hide from me, after all these years.” Omega pressed a kiss to the top of Terzo’s head before sitting down beside him. Terzo leaned on him heavily, trying not to break under the weight of everything that had transpired within the last few hours. “What are we going to do?” Terzo whispered, closing his eyes against tears. Omega thought for a moment. “It’s only eight-thirty, we can still call Copia. I’m not sure what he can do about it this late, but I know you well enough to know that this will eat at you until you do something about it.” It only took Terzo a few moments to agree, quickly pulling out his phone and dialing his brother. 

To say that Copia was outraged would, blessedly, be an understatement. When he’d gotten the whole retelling out, Terzo had to hold the phone away from his ear to preserve his hearing against the volume of his brother’s tirade. It felt validating to have someone else feel a fraction of the anger that he felt over the situation, even if it didn’t make it better. 

They were stuck on where to go from here, the situation complicated by alliances and bullshit ministry politics. When Terzo bitterly suggested sending her to the pit, Copia calmed, beginning to back-peddle the conversation. Killing her was not an option, Copia insisted, making Terzo roll his eyes. In his anger for his daughters, he was tempted to call Copia a coward, but he knew that was unfair. He knew from firsthand experience how hard it was to balance the demands of so many forces pulling you in warring directions. “What if I fire her, so to speak? Have her moved somewhere like kitchen duty, eh?” Copia sounded pleased with himself. Terzo clenched his jaw. 

“That could be even worse, you idiot! What if she started messing with the food?! She could poison the girls!” Terzo was getting worked up again. He was fighting hard to keep his voice down.

“Ok ok, maybe not the kitchens, but you get my point!” Copia conceded. “No.” He wasn’t budging on this. “No, fratello, after all the shit that we have been through, that you have put us through, you owe me. Excommunicate her at the very least.” “Terzo, you know that wasn’t my fault! Do you know how much shit I’ll get for–” “ I don’t care,” Terzo hissed. “The girls will be going back to class next week, and there will be a different administration in place, or so help me I will make you regret the day you were born.” His tone was final. There was a long pause, followed by a weary sigh. “Ok. Fine. I’ll see what I can do.” With that, Terzo hung up the phone, too frazzled and pissed off to bother with a goodbye. He flopped back on the bed and was quickly joined by Omega, who was equally as done with this wretched day. They lay there for what felt like an hour, but in reality was probably closer to ten minutes. Terzo was beginning to drift off when he felt a tendril of his husband’s quintessence reach out to softly brush against his mind, asking to be let in. Terzo could feel the lingering hurt and insecurity in the request and eagerly accepted, flinging the doors to his emotional world wide open. Before either of them knew what was happening, they were both overcome with the torment that Omega had been barely suppressing all day. Terzo felt Omega’s overwhelming, aching guilt at having passed the curse of his ghoulish nature on to his daughters. His sense of failure for not having been able to protect them, to not have gotten them out of such a hostile environment, to not have set them up for a brighter future somehow. He shared that he sometimes wondered if Terzo would have been better off if they had never met. A ragged gasp tore through Terzo, feeling like a hole was being ripped in his heart by the depths of Omega’s suffering.

Terzo drew Omega’s trembling form into his arms, doing his best to console the ghoul who made up the other half of his soul. He told him how much he loved him, how much their girls loved him, how proud he was of him. He reminded him of how highly he regarded ghouls, of how much respect and dignity he knew them to be owed. Terzo assured him that he wouldn’t change a single thing about him or their beautiful children, that he wouldn’t even think about it for a second. Their circumstances had always been so unfair… He tried to stay strong for Omega, but soon they were crying in each other’s arms, clinging tightly. Unsure of what else to do to ease his partner’s suffering, Terzo concentrated on focusing and amplifying the love he had for his husband and for their family, making sure it infiltrated every cell of Omega’s body. Gradually Omega’s breath steadied, evened out, and soon they were still. Terzo looked at him, relieved to see something resembling peace on his face. 

“Omega?” Terzo called feebly, worn out from the effort. Omega opened his eyes and hummed in response. Terzo cupped Omega’s face in his hands, stealing a tender kiss. “Nothing that happened today is your fault, mio caro. Please. I need you to know this. You are the most wonderful father and husband we could have ever asked for. We love you. We need you...” Omega closed his eyes again, taking a deep breath before hesitantly nodding. Terzo kissed him again, and when they broke apart they kept their lips pressed together, basking in the presence and warmth of the other. They both needed to be close, were craving skin to skin contact. “C’mon, mio amato, let’s go take a shower. Let the heat melt some of the stress away,” Omega proposed. Terzo thought that sounded like a great idea, if only he could find the strength to stand. Omega got up first, carefully pulling Terzo to his feet and steadying him as he wobbled. Omega began to lead him towards the ensuite, but Terzo resisted. “Wait. Let me go check on the girls first, amore,” Terzo requested. Omega nodded, giving his hand a firm squeeze before he let go. Omega started the water while Terzo crept down the hall, careful not to wake their children. The creak of the door rang out in the quiet darkness, amplified by his own lingering anxiety. He cursed the squeaky hinges, wondering why they never got around to fixing them. 

When Terzo peeked his head around the corner, he found Astrid’s bed empty. Looking around the room with momentary concern, he spied his youngest child in her older sister’s bed, their hands clasped on top of the covers. Astrid’s other hand clutched her baby blanket tightly to her chest, the one her Daddy knitted for her before she was born. Terzo’s heart warmed at the sight. He couldn’t help the smile that followed him all the way back to the shower. That night, as they did every other night, Terzo and Omega fell asleep safe and warm in each other's arms.

[emotinalsupportturtle]

Just more random stuff I felt compelled to note down whilst listening to the rest of the Putting it Together podcast (decided to put it all in one post to spare everyone of the spam)

Love the image of David Tennant struggling to name footballers to look cool in front of his Macbeth cast mates

David when asked about what sports he watches initially saying none then suddenly remembering he’s been photographed there - “I like a bit of Wimbledon”. also who actually watches darts (David tenant apparently)

he cannot take a compliment it’s so funny, the dude simply said “you seem fit” in response to DT worrying about his age and David nearly melted in to the ground. You could hear him blush

I forgot he’s actually funny even in serious talk mode

Brian O’Sullivan (the host) saying David has a way with interpreting Shakespearean text. that’s so real of him

I think I just really like listening to theatre people talking about and geeking over shit they’ve done

I know way too much about Shinda the magic ape (is that how you spell it? Idk). no complaints though

“he was VERY handsome” David, was that necessary?

David IS doing the old actor telling anecdotes thing, as he himself points out but who cares I’m eating this shit up

Both fascinated and horrified listening to him recount bad reviews early on

David talking about getting advice from another actor early in his career about not milking it and then going “look he wasn’t wrong but he was doing it too lol” - this is interesting to me cause I’ve always felt he knows exactly the right balance to get always, without overplaying or underplaying, I guess it’s something he learnt

DT’s revenge on Taggart “I’m going to reboot that shit that’ll show them”

you know he’s good friends with someone when he just starts dissing them

DT with his costars (almost every one of them, including the host) is one of my favourite genres actually

Brian O’Sullivan is a cool podcast host (maybe Ive had bad experiences so far but I find most podcasts by actors really insufferable and annoying - excluding dt, and now this guy)

Bad puddingbowl haircuts and hitler-esque moustaches are not uncommon mistakes among young actors

newsflash! David Tennant has toyed with the idea of writing but gets put off every time he sees a good script

We need your writing David, please

Help not them talking about famous actors having egos and the host says “I mean that is something potentially accessible to you” and dt being like “god I can’t imagine.. maybe I should, but I just couldn’t” and Brian going “nah man we love you don’t change”. Wholesome moment

[wordsofelie]

Chapter 1

🎋The footprints he etched on the earth

Bokuto x f!reader

Part I : 🌌The stars he left in the sky (can be read as a standalone)

Summary : The stars he left in the sky are nothing compared to the footprints he etched on the earth.

or when you meet bokuto koutarou and wonder if you’ve ever truly known beauty before him.

Context warning: time skip setting, ex!oikawa, alcohol consumption, swearing, a lot of french words sorry

Words count: 3.1k

You’re grateful for the life you’ve been given. You’re healthy, you have a loving family with supportive parents and a funny little brother. You’ve worked hard to become a pâtissière and had great opportunities in Europe. But right now, as your boss argues that a Tatin tart and a Normande tart are essentially the same thing, you can’t help but think the gods are conspiring against you.

“Huh? What’s the problem? They both have apples in them,” he dares insisting.

You’ve studied in Paris. Paris, France. Alongside the best chefs in the world. And yet, here you are, being contradicted by a fifty-something man on something so basic. You’re not just being told you’re wrong, but in front of colleagues and even a few customers.

So, yes, you’re grateful for your life. But you’d be even more grateful if you could punch that man in the face. Of course, you won’t. You can’t. You need this job to pay your bills, your rent (because Tokyo is expensive), and to save for building the pâtisserie you’ve dreamed of for years. You know exactly what it’ll look like—where the counter will be, what colour the walls will be. Everything is planned, except for one detail: how and where you’ll actually get the place.

You force out an apology. It’s painfully obvious that it isn’t sincere, but you bow anyway, hoping it hides your annoyed expression. Then, you retreat to the back room because the croissants are ready and even though you hate your boss, you hate letting food burn in the oven more.

Days have felt repetitive since you arrived in Tokyo six months ago. Your routine begins at 4 a.m., with a quick breakfast. Most mornings, your roommate, Umi, is still awake, surrounded by her mountain of medical textbooks. You don’t know how she manages to decipher the words in her books because the light from her desk is dim (well, that might be the reason why she’s using glasses now).

“I’ll be back around five,” you say, even though she knows your schedule by heart.

“Got it. Have a good day!”

“And have a good night,” you reply with a smile.

The walk to the bakery is usually pleasant. You love seeing the sunrise over Tokyo—except now it’s May, and the weather is horrible. Still, you’ve never regretted moving here. You remember your professor in Paris warning you about how tough and unfair the culinary world can be, especially for women. It didn’t deter you. You’ve never wanted fame; you just want to open a pâtisserie and make people happy with your creations. For now, though, gaining more experience is your priority, so you work at a well-known bakery in Shibuya.

It’s only temporary, it’s only temporary, you often need to remind yourself—especially on tough days like today.

You don’t think you’re gaining a lot of practical skills but at least, you’ve learned a bit of humility here (no matter how forced and unfair it feels).

When you return home that evening, you’re not expecting much. When Umi comes home later, she often brings groceries or takeout. For someone who bakes, you’re surprisingly terrible at cooking savoury dishes. Umi discovered this shortly after you moved in, watching you struggle to roast vegetables or boil an egg.

Weeks of your culinary disasters led her to casually take over dinner duties. Ever since then, she’s been the one in charge and seems satisfied with it. You don’t mind—it’s a fair trade, especially since she’s a great cook.

“My dad was awful in the kitchen, so I had to take over cooking for me and my siblings,” she once explained. “I also had two neighbours who played sports. I made bentos for them all the time. I mean, I used to help their mother make them, she’s the one who taught me everything about cooking. One of the twins would help, but the other was a total ungrateful bastard who just ate everything.”

In return, you sneak pastries home from your workplace (a small rebellion against your boss) and make pancakes on the weekends.

Tonight, you’ve just stepped out of the shower when Umi bursts through the door.

“Hiii!” she exclaims brightly. “How was your day?”

“Fine,” you reply, keeping it short.

You’re usually good at hiding negative emotions—your teachers in Paris were brutally harsh at times, and showing weakness only invited more criticism (maybe even exclusion) . But with Umi, it’s different. She has an uncanny ability to read people’s feelings and make you feel comfortable with those feelings.

“I grew up with two younger siblings, an introverted best friend, and childhood friends who were all boys,” she told you. “I’ve basically seen every version of emotional repression there is.”

So, it doesn’t take her long to figure out you’re upset.

“Bad day?” she asks. “Wanna talk about it?”

“It’s just… my boss,” you mutter.

“What did that old geezer do this time?”

You sigh. “He was wrong about something, I tried to explain that he made a mistake but he just looked down on me. But I’m not surprised, he would rather die than admit that a girl like me is right… But honestly, it’s not just him. It’s the industry. It’s always like this.”

“Yeah, but it’s weird how everyone just accepts it and nothing changes.” She lets out a dramatic groan. “You know what the problem is? Men.”

You chuckle at that, it’s her usual response to every issue (not that you would deny it though).

You slump into the chair and press your face against the palm of your hand, when she suddenly pulls out a bottle of red wine from her bag.

You raise an eyebrow.

“You know I’m not that desperate to the point where I need to drink to deal with a bad day, right?”

“This isn’t about your bad day,” she grins. “It’s about celebrating.”

“Celebrating what? My shitty boss?”

“Let me explain!” she says, rushing to the kitchen to grab glasses. “You know my childhood friend, the one with the restaurant in Osaka?”

“The twin who isn’t an ungrateful bastard?”

“Yes, but his name is Osamu, I already told you. Anyway, a shop next to his restaurant just closed, and the landlady is looking to sell. Osamu knows her and I mentioned you’re looking for a place to open your bakery.”

You open your mouth to correct her (it’s a pâtisserie not a bakery!) but decide to you let her finish instead.

“He said he could arrange a meeting for you. Interested?”

Osaka. You’ve never been there, but the idea intrigues you. People from Kansai are known for their warmth and humour—so different from the quiet of your hometown in Miyagi. Change might be good, you find yourself thinking.

“Sure, I’d be interested,” you say cautiously (in case it doesn't work, don't get your hopes up).

“Great! Osaka is the best, and I know people there who can help you settle in. I’d recommend looking at apartments in—”

“Umi, I haven’t even seen the place yet.”

“Don’t worry,” she says confidently. “Just make them try your strawberry and cream tart. No one can say no to that!”

You laugh. “You mean the fraisier?”

“Gods, yes. Just use that sexy French accent of yours, and they’ll agree in no time.”

“Whatever you say,” you can’t help but laugh a little. “The wine is French, huh?”

She pours a generous amount into your glass, “of course. Last time I brought Californian you almost killed me.”

You take a look at the bottle to check if she’s telling the truth. You nod proudly and she smiles back.

“To your bakery!” She raises her glass and so do you.

A few days later, after pretending to be bedridden by a sudden and debilitating cold to take a fews days off from work (to which your boss complains), you find yourself standing at the station ready to leave for Osaka.

Umi had given you everything you needed: Miya Osamu's number, his address, and an enthusiastic list of typical Kansai expressions.

When you arrive there, you immediately search for “Onigiri Miya” on your phone. When you check it you are nothing but impressed by the 5 stars behind the name and the hundred and hundred of good comments.

Will you also get that someday?

Will your pâtisserie gather many people and be a place of happiness?

You try not to think too much about it, because with the flicker of hope comes fear, and you don’t have time to be negative. You have to move forward and put on a brave face, that’s what you’ve been taught.

As you step off the train and start to look for the right bus, a voice calls out behind you.

“Yer Umi’s roommate, right?”

You turn around to see a man with short brown hair. There’s a relaxed air about him that makes you feel comfortable.

“Miya-san?” you assume.

“The good one, yeah,” he replies with a boyish smile. You think his Kansai accent adds an easy charm to his voice.

“I wasn’t expecting you to come. I could have taken the bus, I don’t want to be a bother.”

“Nah, yer not. Follow me.”

He offers to carry your bag and leads you to his car, parked just outside the station.

The ride is mostly food-related, he tells you about his business. How he started as the employee of an old man who had a ramen restaurant, which eventually became his. How he transformed it into an onigiri restaurant before opening a second shop recently in Tokyo.

“Why onigiri?” you ask, genuinely curious.

He thinks for a moment. “I guess… it reminds me of home. My Ma’ used to make ’em all the time when we were kids. And I love makin’ ’em myself. Like, physically usin’ my hands. Does that make sense?”

“It does,” you say with a small smile. “I’ve heard a lot of good things about your mother’s cooking.”

“It’s the best,” he says, and his tone turns soft. “Though, she didn’t really teach me much about baking. That’s why I’m impressed by what ya do.”

His compliment takes you by surprise, you restrain yourself from smiling with all your teeth.

You meet the landlady the minute you step out of the car. She listens to you carefully and even though you try not to overthink it, she seems more than happy at the idea of opening a French pâtisserie in the neighbourhood.

Osamu mentions after the meeting how you definitely “won her over with how detailed and motivated ya were.”

You don’t tell him that it only makes sense because you’ve dreamed of owning a place for years. You’ve imagined everything, thought about it during sleepless nights and overworked days. It is the lighthouse that guided you through heartbreaks and homesickness. So when the opportunity presents itself, there’s no way you wouldn’t give your all.

“I hope she’ll accept my project,” you simply answer.

“D’ya want onigiri?” The man offers.

You obviously accept (Umi dragged about how delicious they were, you need to find out whether that is true or not) and thank him again. He brushes it off with a “Umi’s friends are my friends and I’m always happy to feed people.”

His shop is warm and welcoming, and his food is delightful. You might yourself add a five-star review on Google.

“I never thought a rice ball could be that good,” you say with a mouth full of food.

“Rice balls? Ya don’t know how much time it took me to master that.”

Right, you don’t know, but you can only imagine. The culinary world isn’t only competitive and cruel. It’s sweat and tears, years of making to perfect a simple recipe. It’s giving your entire being into your crafts only to hear people say “well, that mustn’t be too difficult to make.”

But it’s also pride and art. Not a day goes by when you aren’t excited to try a new combination: replace wheat flour with almond flour for the brioches, add a spoonful of orange blossom to your cream puffs, and the list is long. And if you make someone happy, if they ask to have a second piece of your cake, that’s when you know the sweat and the tears aren’t that important.

You crave to build your pâtisserie, the same way Osamu built his restaurant (with warmth and love), and taste what it’s like to pour your heart into something tangible and undeniably yours.

Things move faster than you’d anticipated. The landlady approves your proposal, the bank grants your loan, and within the span of a week, you exchange your resignation letter with a lease and a pair of keys.

You’re sad to leave Umi, she is too.

“I’ll come whenever I can.” She says with a sad smile.

“I’ll sneak pastries for you,” you wink in return and when you hug, she congratulates you and tells you (for the tenth time) that you deserve it. You think a tear escapes your eyes.

Your newfound property is empty and cold. And when you open the door for the first time you realise that it might require a lot of work.

But Osamu is there every step of the way. He kindly offers advice and helps you with renovations. You’re a bit embarrassed by how much he’s done so far and at the same time, you know you have to take everything there is to make that place great. So it becomes a routine for him to cross the road from his shop to yours at the end of his shift to give you a hand.

“Yer makin’ the right choice,” he says one evening as you both sit outside Onigiri Miya, sharing a quick meal after a day of painting walls and changing seals. “That place is gonna bring in plenty of tourists and locals.”

You glance at him, there are nerves swirling in your chest. “I hope so.”

“Ya are. Trust me. Yer gonna have queues and queues of people.”

You hide your nerves with sarcasm, “And if they’re tired of waiting, I’ll tell them that there's a not-too-bad onigiri restaurant in front of my shop. Just so you know, time passes faster.”

He sneers at that, “’Not too bad’, ya sound like my brother.”

“Don’t know the guy but that didn’t seem to be a compliment.”

“That wasn’t.”

You roll your eyes and he laughs in return.

The hardest part of the renovation happens to be the most important one: the kitchen. You’re knee-deep in setting up the oven when you realise that maybe, you might need more people to assemble to equipment.

“I can find two or three more biceps to help,” Osamu tells you when he finds you trying to lift the 250-pound fridge by yourself.

“Yeah, I guess that would be useful,” you say breathlessly.

The next morning, you arrive early. Not as early as Osamu it seems since you see him standing outside your shop, hands in his pockets and wearing a sports suit (the clothes are unusual on him, you think). The closer you get, the blonder his hair looks. The sun has barely rise, and you blame the light for it.

You immediately call out, “Miya-san?”

He turns around, “Oh, hey!”

“You could have come later, you know. I was planning on cleaning a little bit before you arrived.”

“Don’t worry," he shakes his head, “’Samu would have killed me if I had been late.”

��Samu?”

And then, just as quickly, Osamu (the real one) shows up and for a second, you’re confused.

“Good morning,” he says before pointing to the other man, “seems like ya just met my brother.”

“I’m Atsumu.” The blond guy extends his hand to you and your knitted brows probably gives away your confusion. “Don’t tell me ya thought I was ‘Samu?”

Of course that’s his brother, you idiot. You curse yourself.

“Sorry. You guys look similar,” you say, but it’s not quite an excuse for your mistake.

They both share a glance before laughing and you think you just sounded stupid because obviously, they look alike, they’re fucking twins. You reason yourself by thinking that it’s very much early and that you’re not fully awake.

“We’re very different. I mean, our bodies aren’t built the same since I’m a professional athlete and ‘Samu’s not. I’ve always been the smartest one too.” He crosses his arms to his chest.

Osamu rolls his eyes. “Don’t listen to him. You’ll learn the difference soon enough. I’m the serious one.” He gestures to his brother. “He’s the disaster.”

Atsumu shrugs dramatically. “Hey, the world needs a little chaos, ya shithead!”

You can’t help but laugh despite the tension between them.

“Where’s the fridge?”

“I think we should wait for him; it will be easier if we’re four,” Osamu tells his brother. You didn’t know another person would come, you want to ask about them but Atsumu interferes before you can open your mouth.

“I’m pretty sure I can manage on my own, I’m a-”

“Professional athlete. I think we got it ‘Tsumu so can ya shut the fuck up now?”

You fear Atsumu will jump his brother if you don’t stop them.

“What sport?” You ask hurriedly before he can take a step towards Osamu.

“Volleyball. I’m the starting setter of the National Team.”

“Thought Tobio-kun was.”

The older twin glowers at the younger one.

“I’m impressed Atsumu-san, I actually know a professional setter.”

“Who?” The man’s eyes widen, and you decipher not only curiosity but competition on his face (typical man behaviour).

“He’s not in Japan though. But maybe you’ve heard of him, his name is Oika-”

“My bad Sam-sam, I walked past that place.”

A man enters the room. He is a bit sweaty and his hair, grey and raven, is falling on his forehead. 

“Did ya run to come here?” Osamu raises an eyebrow at him.

He grins and scratches the back of his neck nervously, “I took the wrong street.”

“But it’s the same as Onigiri Miya.”

“But it’s always Omi-Omi who guides us here. I never came on my own,” he pouts.

“Thank you for coming,” you hear yourself say and that’s when he finally sees you. His pout immediately disappears.

You think he is handsome. He and his golden eyes. But it’s only a sample of his beauty because when he replies “of course,” with his smile all bright and warm, you’re mesmerised.

It’s almost instinctive, the way you can’t look away. It’s like an effortless intake of air. Like your eyes seem to be glued to his features, and soon enough, to his arms and the way the muscles contract slightly when he offers his hand for you to shake it.

“I'm Bokuto,” he grins. “Nice to meet you.”

“Bokkun, yer hands are all dirty. She’s a lady.”

“Oops, Tsum-Tsum is right. Where can I wash them?” He asks you and hides his hands behind his back.

You open your mouth to speak but nothing comes out. The room is filled with silence for a very long minute before Osamu finally decides to show him the way.

Why are you disappointed? Why did you want so badly to shake his hand?

Perhaps because it’s too early for your mind to function properly.

Your brain tries to go for that answer (your beating heart whispers something else).

“Should we start workin’”? Atsumu proposes and you nod.

Well, it seems like you’re stuck with two bickering brothers and this god-like man named Bokuto.

(This is going to be a good day, you think discretely).

author notes: okay so this was supposed to be a one-shot but it will be a 3 or 4 chapters story haha

(writing this made me very hungry btw)

[zaddyazula]

for the last 6 months i’ve been suffering the repercussions of separating myself from femininity since i was 6 years old

[valewritessss]

I’ve seen someone say that Sally was selfish and inconsiderate for telling Percy they need his room for Estelle???

[queer-reader-07]

something about finding the people who sit through your info dumps with joy on their face and enthusiasm for your passions. something about finding the people who info dump right back at you because they know you love hearing about their passions. something about finding the people who manage to sum up your being in one niche, oddly specific sentence that lives in your mind rent free for the rest of time. something about finding the people who not only accept you for who you are but embrace you for who you are. who not only tolerate your quirks and differences but love and cherish them.

[bravevolunteer]

thinking about michael between pizza sim and security breach having a conversation with old man consequences…

[voulezloux]

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