#i will create world after world if you leave me there for too long

[artsninspo]

Penname: Delta Wise -3- [Sinners]

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authors note: this one is longer than my usual update so I hope those of you who always ask for longer fics enjoy. Not too much on the summary - I don't want to spoil anything but I promise its a ride 🌪️ This Chapter has multiple POV's. summary: What if you make a fortune from a harrowing tale that affected your family? What if it had supernatural elements that only you and few others believed to be true? What if nearly 100 years later those truth's start finding you? This is Knotty James story, better known as Delta Wise. word-count: 5.6K

THREE

Knotty

I can't stop staring at Eli, trying to piece the puzzle together, trying to make sense of what I know. A love spell gone wrong and a night of horrors has a man that shouldn't be alive and breathing in my company. If I was a drinker I’d need a shot. I try to sew the seams of my memory together, finding pieces of the mosaic that make up the face I see now. Mississippi Eli had braids, he was slim, not so muscular and his voice was higher if memory serves me correctly. He was stern, holding back smiles for when we didn't have an audience then deep dimples would appear. I was as infatuated with Eli as I was with my grandmother's stories back then. I look down and see I have goosebumps. I blink away the reveries of the past and ground myself in the present at this event with my parents. I take a deep breath trying to be the charming daughter but it goes away when I turn and see Eli watching me from across the room. His expression is serious but his eyes soften as he raises a brow - like he’s asking me if I’m alright. I force a smile nodding curtly and he half smiles slightly before nodding. My mother’s perfume ends the moment.

“He’s handsome isn’t he?” Ma says following my line of sight over to Eli as she misinterprets my staring for the same wide eyed wonder I had for him as a child. She stands straight brimming with pride for her rediscovery of the only boy I’ve ever really gotten along with.

“That’s not why I’m staring” I mutter killing her vibe.

“Then why are you staring?” She asks.

Sighing I look into my glass. “It’s a long story”

“I have time,” Ma smiles.

“You and daddy need to stay in after dark and be very careful who you invite into your home” I tell her and she closes her eyes. 

“Not this again” she sighs. “My mother created a very vivid world and an intricate story in order to live with her mother’s abandonment of her” Ma says and it hurts me, so I know it hurts Granny.

“She never lied about anything else” I quip.

Ma sighs. “I don’t judge her for it”

“So Her mother just absconded?” I ask.

“Knotty…”

“Ma…” I respond

“So you believe her tales?” she asks with a huff.

“If I go missing out of the blue just know I didn’t abscond” I tell her.

“Knotty” she snaps as I walk away. “Knotty James” she continues reaching for me but I keep going. “Don’t make me say your name” she warns and I stop not wanting it uttered in this space.

“You’re too superstitious” she snaps, taking my hand and walking me out of the ballroom. She’s furious as am I.

“When have I been a liar?” I ask and she sighs.

“So Pearline was turned into a vampire and died at sunrise?” She asks with a mocking tone. “I’ll keep your father and I indoors and remind him not to invite anyone in the house” she relents only out of her love for me: she doesn’t believe it. Nor does she understand the conundrum Eli poses. While he’s human his mirror image is a bloodsucker.

“I’m gonna leave now” I swallow wiping my runaway tears caused by overwhelm.

“Knotty” my mom sighs, her tone turning maternal as she reaches for me.

“Is everything alright?” A concerned Eli asks with a cigarette in hand.

“Fine” I lie wiping my tears away.

“You really shouldn’t smoke,” Ma tells him.

“I know” he nods, sparing her a glance before looking at me with another raised brow.

“Let me walk you out,” Ma says, taking my hand.

“It was nice seeing you again Elijah” Ma smiles politely.

“You too Mrs. James, Knotty” he says.

“Likewise” I nod following my mother’s lead.

“Knotty please if you’re worried or scared about something tell me and we can get you help” she says trying to be supportive but it’s insulting.

“I’m not crazy” I insist.

“I don’t think you’re crazy but this time of year is always hard for you. You and mama were so close” she says and I sigh.

“I’ll be at Merin’s” I tell my mother and she tenses. She could tolerate me wanting my grandmother more than her but Mama Meringue is where she draws the line. 

“Knotty, why don’t you come home. I can leave now with you we can go home and spend some time together” Ma offers and I sigh.

“Merin knows I’m not crazy or superstitious enough. Take care” 

“Then I’m coming with you,” Ma says, opening the passenger door. She’s as stubborn as a mule.

Pearl (Knotty’s Mom)

I don't remember the last time Knotty and I spent real quality time together just because. I don't remember the last time we hung out without it being put into either of our schedules and as I watch her drive it pains me. She’s been so self sufficient these past few years that I’ve seen less and less of her. Even I was closer with Ma, in spite of our differences. I remember coming home from my first date with Knotty’s dad John with stars in my eyes and telling my mom all about it. Knotty never tells me anything aside from what she’s sure I want to hear and it’s my fault. I text John that I’m with Knotty before setting my phone down in my purse so I can be present for our not-so-little-girl.

I look her over again, wondering what’s going on in that head of hers. It was easier when Ma was still alive. Ma was a fortress and I trusted her more than anyone else with Knotty. Their bond was otherworldly and there was nothing Knotty would keep from her so I always knew when and when not to worry. Ma’s passing hit Knotty the hardest and until a few years ago she worried me. Nothing made her genuinely happy no matter how much she smiled to put us at ease. I thought at the very least Ma’s passing would make Knotty and I closer but it’s been the opposite. It’s like she needs me less and less and her patience for my skepticism has thinned into nothingness. 

“Did you tell dad to stay in after dark?” Knotty asks.

“I’ll text him right now” I tell her and she holds the steering wheel tight before letting go.

“You can tell me anything Knotty” I assure her.

“But you don’t believe me” she says with judgement absent from her tone.  She’s always been more measured with me. Ma and even Merin got the bubbly inhibited version of my child. When she was with me she wanted mani pedis and shopping. When she was with Ma she wanted to dance in the rain and pick whatever fruit was in season.

“Why don’t we make plans to go pick strawberries and raspberries before the season ends” I propose.

“Ma”

“What”

“It’s late september.” She says matter of fact.

“So how do I spend time with you? Do I book some time and help you at the shop?” I ask, trying to make the effort.

“Ma, I’m fine,” she says, sounding exasperated with me.

“You’re a grown woman, who’s alluding to vampires being real. Either you’re unwell and this is serious OR you’re perfectly sane and this is serious. Either way - I’m involved now. You’re my kid and whether it’s supernatural or psychosis I am here” I affirm. Knotty lets out a deep sigh like she could ever understand what it is to bring life into this world and love a child with every essence of your being. 

“You still don’t believe me,” she says, sounding more disappointed than anything.

“Are you telling me they are real? Not just some symbolism from southern folklore?” I ask and she grips the wheel again. She doesn’t answer me, instead she cuts the radio on. I turn it down.

“So you’re staying in, making your favorite - garlic knots, all silver everything, wooden stakes, cinnamon sweeping to keep the energy clear, staying in at night, not responding to voices calling our names in the forest” I list to show Knotty I’m right here with her and we were raised by the same woman. Her expression softens.

“Colloidal silver cream when you leave out at night, jewelry on all the accessible artery points. Garlic tea prep before nights out” She says taking Ma’s warnings very seriously. Knotty’s heart is so pure she’s always believed what people tell her.

“Did mama ever tell you who Pearline was fooling around with in the juke that night?” I ask knowing the story my mother believed to be true. Knotty looks at me and nods.

“She never told you?” Knotty asks me.

“No” I admit and she smiles.

“What do you know then?” she asks.

“That Pawpaw was hard on her, he was older and their marriage was unhappy. She would dress up and go out and sing whenever he was cheating or being neglectful. They had a fight the night before she disappeared”  I tell Knotty.

“She tried to get back home that night, she fought, not for Pawpaw but for her kids. Like any mother would” Knotty says as convinced as my mother was. “Ask yourself this, if Pearline was such a bad mother. Why was Granny such a good one? Why would she name you after her mother? Why?” Knotty asks.

“I don’t know” I tell Knotty and she takes a breath. “Enlighten me” I ask and she shakes her head like I’m a lost cause. I look up and see Merin’s house. My mother’s surrogate daughter. Knotty exits and Merin moves off the porch into the house fanning the flames of my daughter’s superstitious episode.

“Pearl, nice to see you!” She smiles from behind the screen door. “Knotty didn’t tell me you were coming, I only set the table for two”  she says.

“I’ve already eaten thanks” I force a smile heading in behind my daughter. If I believe in anything supernatural it’s that Merin’s a witch. There’s no other explanation for how she burrowed herself too deep into my mother and daughter’s affections. A trusted advisor and confident to both of them. Mama Meringue, what a fucking ridiculous moniker.

“How are you, baby?” Merin asks, taking Knottys arms. Without a word I watch my daughter remove a bangle. Something unspoken passes between them and Merin’s eyes double in size.

“I’ll set you a place Mom” Knotty says, turning to me as Merin disappears.

“What was that?” I ask Knotty.

“Merin made my favorites - I don’t think there’s anything for your diet”

“I’ll have the same fried fish as you.” I respond and Knotty serves me. Dinner is cordial and then Knotty leaves us to have a bath leaving Merin and I together.

“She needs you Pearl,” Merin says, overstepping as usual.

“Why do you think I’m here?” Impatience seeps from my tone.

“She needs you to believe her”

“She needs you to stop indulging her, She’s vulnerable right now” I snap but it has no effect on Merin.

“She’ll always be yours, she loves and trusts you more than you know. She just needs me because you don't listen” she says, working on my nerves.

“I listen, I just don’t believe in these stories. It’s nonsense!” I tell her frankly.

“Shame isn’t it? Your mother always believed in you, even when she didn’t like it. But I guess as children we choose when our parents are worth believing” she says, talking in circles.

“What’s Knotty worried about?” I ask.

“Why’d you invite Knotty to the fundraiser? Was it the boy from Mississippi?” Merin asks.

“Yes because she’d be better off if she settled down with a nice man and stopped with all this woo woo stuff”  I snap.

“Because you’re a mother and you know what’s right for Ivy” Merin says and it unsettles me. I know these lot are superstitious about the connection names have to spirit.

“Knotty” I correct, not liking the sound of her name being uttered by this charlatan. 

“She’s gonna need you P, I won’t make it thanksgiving” Merin says and it hits me. 

“What’s wrong?” I ask, wanting her alive in spite of our differences.

“My time here is coming to an end,” Merin says, talking in more circles.

“Why? There are too many doctors in the family for you not to have a second opinion on whatever it is” I tell her but she frowns shaking her head and sighing. She takes my plate heading to her kitchen.

“Knotty freaked out today because the man you hope she connects with has a brother who is dangerous and capable of bringing you harm. Harm gated communities can’t protect from. Harm Knotty would never survive. It isn’t psychosis - it’s love. You need to stay with her, especially when she’s with Carmen. Be present. I’d go if I could but outside this house it’d be clear I was sick Knotty would notice and worry. There’s no time for that” Merin says. As much as I mistrust her I know she really does genuinely love my daughter, the same way she did Ma. I see in her eyes that she is sick. Her typically bright hazel eyes are weary and she is thinner now that I focus on her frame. I hear footsteps and turn to see Knotty in a bubu ready for bed. She looks more at home here than she does at my house. 

“What are you two discussing?” She asks.

“You” Merin says, earning an eye roll from Knotty.

“My mother thinks I’m psychotic.”

“No she doesn't, she's just afraid of what believing you will mean.” Merin says I don’t correct her as Knotty gets comfortable on the couch. “I’m gonna shower, I’ll look for something for you to sleep in P. Sun is setting, so you can leave in the morning.” 

———

Eli (Elijah ‘Smoke’ Moore)

When I ran into the James' and they told me Knotty would attend this fundraiser it was the first time I felt excited in years. That summer in Mississippi was hell until she showed up and then it was a different type of headache. She was the greenest kid I’d ever seen - something about that made her precious. She had no fear or a self-conscious bone in her body. She was like a ray of sunshine bouncing around in the summer heat untouched by the weight of the history. I met her grandmother first. I was bringing her water as Knotty was drawing and singing too loud. The old woman saw the look on my face and smiled. “She’s their wildest dreams” she had said and it stuck with me. It was clear she was privileged. Two parents that loved each other, money, family, a happy child under no threat. Knotty has always been a little odd but she was never sad orr composed. 

I know people change when they grow up but something wasn’t right with Knotty, it was like she was afraid. The girl without fear. I feel the need to check up on her even though I wouldn’t do this shit for anyone else but Knotty’s always needed protection. I make the turn the GPS advises and stop in front of Bonnie’s Apothecary. I hop out and check my surroundings before heading in. The bell rings as the door opens and Knotty is rearranging items on a ladder. She waits looking me over for a moment before climbing down. The store's ambiance is clean and modern, not exactly the Knotty I remember.

“Eli?” she says but there’s a question in it.

“Who else would it be?” I ask and she nods.

“Right, what do you need?” She asks, looking around.

“This all you?” I ask and she nods. I see silver link bracelets hanging and remember the one she made with reeds of grass as kids. I chose a blue one with a silver coin. I can’t make out the coins design but it makes her smile as she comes over to me smelling divine.

“Protection”  she says taking the bracelet when her hands brush mine there’s an electric shock. She looks down at her footwear. “Sorry I’ve been dragging my feet around” she apologizes in shoes that are definitely a choice. Fur lined loafers.

“What’s wrong?” I ask like it’s my place after all this time. She smiles looking into her hands. Silver polish pops against her deep brown skin. I’ve never liked many people but Knotty was different. I watched her for a week after meeting her Granny. Knotty was always laughing, screaming and giggling like her world was new as she tried to fly kites, chase bubbles and decorate the pavement with chalk. It was silence that made me look for her. Silence and the congregation of her boy cousins. Then I found her in the river with a net searching for clams. If they weren’t patrons of my uncles business I would’ve fucked those little niggas up for playing with baby girl like that.

Knotty doesn’t respond, placing the bracelet on me and tying the  threads into a knot.

“My business isn’t failing, if that’s why you’re here” she says.

“I don’t think it would. People always need something to believe in. This is a second opinion and alternatives” I tell her looking around.

“Don’t mock me” she warns, stepping back. 

“Why are you so wound up?” I ask and she swallows, getting serious again.

“It’s more ridiculous than trying to find pearls in the river so I’ll save myself the judgement and scolding from a stranger” she says, cutting me.

“I’m not a stranger” I correct. “I listened to you talk everyday nonstop for six weeks” I remind her and she smiles. “You were gonna open one of these and find Atlantis and become a writer. Is it Atlantis?” I ask and she smirks.

“You’re mocking me again” she smiles.

“No I’m not. I came here to patronize your shop and pick up the book your pops said you wrote about natural healing … and figure out what’s wrong with you?” I ask and she walks around the island in the center of the store with tills. She picks up a book and hands it to me.

“Maybe you can put some in your gun range. In case you patronize the outdoorsy type. A lot of stuff in here can keep them alive in the wilderness” she says being the Knotty I remember. 

“How much will that run me?” I ask.

“I’d have to go home and run the numbers” she winks playfully.

“No lifesaving discounts?” I ask and she smiles for real this time. She looks at me again like she can’t believe I’m real. If I didn’t know her as well as I did for those six weeks I’d think she was checking me out like most women.

“That can be arranged” she shrugs, turning away from me and going to grab glass jars of herbs. She makes up a concoction.

“Drink this every morning” she tells me, placing a loose leaf tea bag set in front of a blend. “This at night” she says, taking a sharpie and drawing a sun and a moon on each beg instead of spelling out morning and night.

“What’s it gonna do for me?” I ask and she looks me over again.

“Make you feel better, protect you from lead exposure from your gun range” she says being sweet and the bell rings. A woman that doesn’t quite look right comes in with a smile.

“Your order is right here Mrs. Pace” Knotty says, stepping back into the center island of the store but I feel her hand slip into mine pulling me in with her as she latches it shut. She doesn’t skip a beat bending to find the order as I look at the woman who stares back at me with glassy eyes.

“Here you go,” Knotty smiles, pushing a brown paper bag across the counter.

“Good day Knotty” the woman says with a scratchy voice. 

“Good day.” knotty says and the bell rings again as she leaves. “Don’t ask,” she says, turning to face me again for a moment before getting a bag for my order.

“What if I’m allergic to something in this?” I ask.

“Call 911” she mutters sarcastically. An alarm sounds just as the bell rings again. This time a woman that is well placed walks in looking between Knotty and I.

“Hey Knotty, sorry I’m late”

“No worries Dora” Knotty smiles.

“Who’s this?” Dora asks.

“Old …. Friend” she says. Knotty puts the bag of my items against my chest stepping out from behind the  counter. 

“Look after her well, this morning was a red dawn. You know what they say” she tells me.

“I’ll be fine Dora, he’s not invited” Knotty says to the women.

“I didn’t pay” I remind Knotty.

“Lifesaver discount” she says, fanning me off. She heads into the back leaving me and her coworker. My hands tremble and I need a smoke.

“Meditation is good for those,” the woman says, pointing to my hands.

“Thanks” I tell her as Knotty emerges holding a garment bag. 

“I’ll walk you out” I say, relieving her of the bags. “What’s in here?”

“My cousin is performing tonight at a showcase. I got her a dress”

“I thought singing wasn’t safe?” I ask and she stops smiling.

“So you listened to everything I said?” She asks. “And you still remember?”

“Wilder tales have never been spun” I tell her and she smiles some more popping her trunk.

“Thanks for helping me and stopping by” she says trying to get rid of me.

“Where’s this performance happening?” I ask.

“You really have nothing better to do?” she asks.

“I figure it might be good for business” I shrug but she doesn’t buy it. 

“Do you have a nickname?” she asks.

“In the military they called me Smoke” I tell her and her eyes close. 

“That’ll do,” she says serious again.

“You really hate killing don’t you?” I ask.

“Give me your phone number. I’ll go ahead and help my cousin set up. You text me when you’re there. In the meantime khakis won’t cut it. Jeans a black tee, a watch. Whatever you have. Think rapper or actor if you want to fit in” she instructs.

“You don’t like my outfit?” I ask her.

“I care about character. Carmen cares about clothes and I don’t want to make her look bad” she explains as I hand her my phone. She sends herself a message and then tells me the time and place. 

“Send me some pictures so I can figure it out” I say before I know why. She pulls out her phone, taking screenshots and sending them to me. 

_____

Knotty

I try to shake the feeling gnawing at me, try to ground myself in the moment instead of the realm of possibilities. Carmen’s worked too hard  for me to tell her not to sing so I’m doing the next best thing - bringing her an outfit that can double as protection to put my mind at ease. Which it was before Eli came in, his larger than life aura and his protective stare. I wonder how I missed it back then, how close he was to Smoke of the Smokestack twins. His name Elijah is the same and he never seemed to smile. I learned quickly the meaner his glare was at me the more he was fighting, setting his dimples free. He was patient with me then and somehow that same patience has carried over to now. How we’re both in the same city again at this time is beyond me. The proximity of today's date to the 15th and 16th of October is another unnerving reality. Merin has answers but they aren't ready for me yet. I check my messages from her before exiting the car. I see sunsets in a little over and set a timer to be out before then.

I feel like a bag lady as I enter the venue. I’m so preoccupied I almost don’t notice the energy of this place. Thankfully security is kind enough to take the garment bag and suitcase off my hands so I can present Carmen with flowers. Her name is on the door and she answers in a moment after I knock. Her hair is pin curls and her make up is almost done by the looks of it. She’s bright today and light too with strong energy.

“Thank you” I smile as security sets down what I’ve brought. Carmen takes the flowers from me with a smile.

“You wouldn’t believe the last time someone bought me flowers,” she says.

“Aren’t you always dating?” I ask, surprised.

“Clearly I don’t date gentlemen. Speaking of - you smell like cologne” Carmen says awfully quick. “Not the expensive kind.” She frowns, making me laugh.

“My parents are trying to set me up again but I don’t think the guy knows he’s being used as a pawn”

“Knotty, you’re gorgeous. The sound engineer and producer both wanted your number. If he doesn’t know he’s still there for the same reason” Carmen says but I’ve never liked the gorgeous compliment on its own.

“Tonight’s all about you but he’s stopping by”

“Knotty bringing around a nigga. Must be special” she says, pouring herself a shot.

“It’s not like that. Do you remember the summer vacation we spent in Mississippi as a family?” I ask Carmen.

“Who could forget it, I’m not sure how Granny survived childhood with the bugs, the reptiles and the heat” she says.

“Remember the boy that saved me from the gators?”

“One with the braids?”

“Yeah”

“It’s him” I say and she smiles.

“What I remember is he didn’t play about you. He had the boys in line. It was good, they feared a country asswhoopin’” She recalls with accuracy, amusing herself in the process. “Is he fine?” She asks and I roll my eyes.

“Carmen…”

“Come on, talking about this is way better than me getting nervous about performing” she says and so I respond.

“Yes that’s being perfectly objective” I say and she grins like the Cheshire Cat.

“I thought earthy girls knock ‘em down the same as the rest of us” she asks winking as she takes up her palette but I know better. He’s someone else’s and wore that mojo bag for at least seven years straight. She’s all over him.

“I got you something for your performance” I change the subject and she giggles.

“Stop being so uptight Knotty” she turns perfecting her makeup look.

“I’m not uptight, Carmen I’m just not thinking of having sex right now”

“Or ever”

I sigh. “I have a lot on my plate.” 

“Like”

“You’re going on stage” I remind

“Like Knotty come on tell me” she says and I pull out the dress that looks like a chandelier. Her eyes bug out.

“Oh my fuck-“ she stops looking at it and covering her mouth. “It’s gorgeous, where'd you find it?” She asks.

“The earthy girl store” I tease as she takes it from me.  She holds it against her frame in the mirror and I get the slip lining options for it.

“And you matched my nude perfectly?” She asks to pick the shorts jumpsuit option that matches her skin to go under the dress.

“Sex sells” I wink.

“Knotty,” she says, hugging me tight. “Thank you for being here and going out of your way for me” she says. 

“That’s what family is for” I remind her but she scoffs.

“My parents scorn me and my brother is ashamed of me too.” She says. I squeeze her tight.

“Josh is- I don’t want to put my mouth on him” I stop myself. “You aren’t missing out on anything and your dad and my mom are from a different time. What do they know about the present they’re in their own worlds more than me. “Block out all the nerves and perform.” I smile, handing her one of my bracelets. She puts it on and there’s a knock on the door.

“You need to be backstage in five” security said and it takes exactly that to get her in the dress and to fix her hair. She looks ethereal when she opens the door. We separate and I go to find a good vantage point of her performance. The venue is one level with the exception of the stage but my heels are a helping hand. When Carmen is announced as Melo, I smile and when she starts I get goosebumps. It’s her poise and presence that’s captivating. I sway knowing the words already and see a message from Eli telling me he’s here. I don’t respond, not wanting to stop the video recording until Carmen’s finished. I get the subsequent applause and her thanks on video. I stop recording the same moment arms wrap around me from behind. My skin crawls. As alarm bells go off. The cologne is expensive and decadent.

“If it isn’t Delta Wise enjoying a griot sing” Stack says pulling my hips against his groin and whispering by my ear. I elbow him and he chuckles letting me go. I move through the crowd quickly, ceased by panic. I try to keep an eye out for Mary but it’s hard in the dark. I make it backstage as another text from Eli comes through. My heart races for his safety. My phone is snatched by a manicured hand only for it to be dropped when I look up Mary is hissing with her fangs out. I pick up my phone.

“Don’t you dare” I hear Stack say from behind me I freeze but when Mary’s fangs retract I realize he’s talking to her.

“Stack, why the fuck are you always flirting with women when you have crazy here out of the asylum?!” I hear Carmen say. She pulls me to her. “I perform at your spot and bring all this good business and your bitch is fucking with my people!” She continues. All the warnings I have for her are lost in my throat.

“Your people?” Stack asks and I cover her mouth.

“Carmen, we have to go now!” I snap knowing the sun has yet to set. When I turn I see Stack’s wearing gloves and full sleeves. I understand why he was able to get so close. Thinking fast I slide the bracelets down  locking them in place around my knuckles as a ball a fist. Stack’s eyes track the gesture and he steps forward like a lion who plays with their dinner. I look to my left and see a fire alarm. Before Stack can read my plans I pull it. The sprinklers start and chaos ensues. I take a clear path holding Carmen’s hand. We make it to a hall with a clear path out when I’m grabbed again. Stacks hold tight.

“Stop fighting” he snaps, growing impatient. I punch him in the face, searing his skin with the silver and making him withdraw. I make it back to Carmen who’s stopped looking confused. A man is in front of her. I know it’s Eli when he reaches for me with concern.

“Her teeth fucking grew. Her teeth!” Carmen screams at the door when I feel the three of us be yanked back. I fall hard but scramble to get my bearings and when I do Smoke and Stack are face to face for the first time in nearly a hundred years. Both of them freeze. Eli’s chest rises but he holds his arms out to keep Carmen and I behind him ever the protector as he pants. Stacks teeth retract as his eyes bug out. I open the door to see it's nearly sunset but Stack doesn’t wince as daylight scorches him, searing his russet skin. I pull Eli back outside with me as he stares at his twin. Spirit knowing what this iteration of his brain doesn’t. Stack watches closely walking towards the light to keep eyes on his brother until his skin begins to bubble. Carmen screams and I let the door go. I don’t have to check her for a bite. Her dresses links are all silver.

“We need to go quickly before the sun sets” I tell her and she nods. I catch my breath and find Eli dazed. He looks down at me.

“Go where?” He asks.

“Follow me” I tell him.

“I didn’t drive,” Carmen snaps.

“Come with me” I tell her getting in my car.

“I’m not leaving you” Eli says, opening the driver's door. I hand him my keys.

“KNOTTY WHAT THE FUCK!!!!!!” Carmen asked inside. “Smokestack twins” she says chest heaving.

“Seatbelt” Smoke says and we both obey as I turn to face her. Tears are streaming, streaking her make up ruining her day.

“How do you know Stack?” I ask and she looks dazed and confused.

“When I used to dance. He owned one of the clubs” she says. “And he’s a vampire, and vampires are real? And what the hell is he!” She screams pointing at Eli as I set our destination into the gps. 

“Knotty” he says and because I don’t have words I swallow hard connecting my phone to the car and telling them everything I know the best way I know how.

“Club Juke by Delta Wise - chapter one” the audiobook reads.

______

Authors Note: Soooooooooo this was a lot! Hope the multiple POV's weren't too much I know it's outside my norm but I think it's necessary for this story.

What do we think of the following:

Knotty's Mom?

Merin? (Mama Meringue)

Eli 'Smoke' and Knotty's relationship?

Carmen a griot?

What does Stack want?

Smoke and Stack seeing each other again?

What happens next?

Sound off in the comments. DOn't forget to reblog, comment, tag and leave a like.

_____

TAGS:

@chessteena @babymelaninn @destinio1 @kianaleani @blackpinup22 @invisiblegiurl @cardi-bre91 @dollys-world224 @childishgambinaax @iheartamora

@browngirldominion @queenofklonnie22 @tadjoa @fadingbelieverexpert @jasssdee1 @bluevenus19 @roughridah0 @cloudy-starz @heyyimmisunderstood

@hrlzy : @rolemodelshit : @marley1773 : @bendoverboo18 : @kimmiedream : @secret89sblog : @tian-monique : @lovepeacehappinessalluneed : @letsgomamas : @motheroffae

[nitewrighter]

Snow White and the Fae Co-Op

Part Four: Bravely Ran Away Away

Previous Parts: 1, 2, 3

Masterpost

CW for Animal death

---

I am gonna say that Snow gets a bit fuzzy on the details here. I don't know if it was a matter of trauma blurring stuff, or her weird fae sensory shit creating a lot of overlaps on the story, or what have you, but she only told me this part at like, chunks at a time, so this is how I can piece it together as best I can.

She managed to regroup with the prince not too long after the whole incident, but whether that was a day or three, I couldn't tell you. By the time she finds him again, though, he has a bandage over his nose. The first time they see each other again, he rushes up to her like he intends to suddenly take her up in a "Ohmygod you're not dead" hug but he manages to stop himself like a step and a half from her, and he studies her for a second, studies that worried little crinkle in her brow, and also he's forced to question, for a second, if she made him stop, or maybe that his own hesitation in this moment is a natural reflex of human will against that force that made him tear up the stairs at a single word from her.

"You made me leave," he says stiffly.

"Because it wasn't safe for you," Snow replies.

"I mean clearly, things aren't safe for you!"

"Yes, well, I know that she wants to kill me, but she can't, because if she could she would have done it already, but she doesn't register you as a threat in the slightest!"

"Thanks."

"Oh my god, you should be thankful for that!"

His shoulders stiffen and that unspoken assumption that there is nothing he can do to help her comes as a slap in the face to him this time. Humans and their masculinity, I swear. But then there's that iron in him again, and we all know about Fae and iron.

"So what are you going to do?" he asks.

Snow startles a sec because 'excuse you I am the Princess Messiah and maybe also the Evil Queen's heart kinda but either way you don't just question me.' But then she stammers, "I'm--that's--you can't expect me to immediately have a plan when she has that mirror!"

"So... you need help," the Prince concludes.

"If there was a plan, more people knowing it would make it easier to see with the mirror!" Snow snaps.

"So you're saying that you don't have a plan," the Prince follows up.

One thing about Snow is, with that freaky pasty skin, is that when she does that little rage/embarrassment flush humans do, it's crazy obvious. Also honestly really cute.

...I miss our Sentient Duck.

But Snow is still upset. Again, fucking teenager, and also there's all that nobility whatnot, so she says, "I don't owe you a plan. I don't owe you anything." Or something along those lines. Again, she kind of told this part in chunks so I'm piecing it together.

But the prince doesn't waver.

"I remember my parents' faces from before she took their kingdom," the words seep out of him like blood through a too-thin bandage being pressed down a little too hard, "Do you remember yours?"

"Shut up," Snow isn't meeting his eyes.

"I remember when they stopped tucking me in at night. I remember the way the stones of our castle were ice cold beneath my bare feet when I went to find out why. I remember them telling me to go to bed while they pored over maps with their generals."

"You don't get to bring this up now!" Snow can hear the Queen's venom in her own voice.

"You know something is rotten in this land, but you've never known a world outside what the Queen has built--"

Snow abruptly pivots away and moves to stomp off, but he catches her by the arm.

"Don't touch me," there's that Queen's venom in her again and his fingers slacken briefly but she doesn't tear away. A breath seethes between perfectly white teeth framed by full red lips.

"I'm sorry," a lank lock of dishwater hair is hanging in his face, "I know... you're frightened. I know... so much is weighing on you right now. But 'Can't do it alone' isn't the same as 'Can't do it.' You sang your song, and I'm here. I wasn't before, and I'm sorry for that, but you change the world, Princess. And you changed me. You made me wonder what more I can do. Do you wonder the same?"

And all at once there are big fat tears bubbling up in Snow's eyes, and a breath is seething between her teeth and she just tears her arm away and grabs up her skirts and hustles off.

A few days later the Evil Queen and Snow are eating dinner together.

"My dear," the Evil Queen says, cutting into her squab, "You look so pale of late."

"I have literally always looked like this," says Snow, poking at her roasted radishes.

"I think it would do you a world of good to go out into the royal wood and forage for some fresh ingredients for our stores. We could pick our practice back up, isn't that wonderful?"

"I thought you said I was hopeless."

"Oh, but you are Snow White! You are the very essence of hope!"

Snow pokes at her radishes again. "So you want me to go to the woods."

"Yes."

"Where there are very few witnesses."

"Mm."

"And do something that will require a significant amount of my concentration."

"Mm-hm!" the Evil Queen takes a bite of squab, "Unless... there's something wrong, my dear. Have I given you reason, recently, to doubt my intentions for you?"

Snow told me she thinks the Queen genuinely got a kick out of making her lie--of pitting Snow's inhumanly pure and magical nature against the survival instincts of her human flesh. I hated the way her face just kind of went blank when she told this part to me.

"No," Snow replies, "I would never doubt your intentions, my queen. I am grateful for your mercy and your wisdom every day."

"Excellent," the queen smiles, "You are such a clever thing, Snow, it would be a shame to give up on our lessons."

And Snow just stares at the radishes on her plate.

So a day or two after that Snow and the Huntsman are both riding out to the castle portcullis when the prince tears out after them yelling "HEY! HEEYYY!" And Snow's head swings around like 'Oh fuck he's going to get himself killed,' so she glanced over to the Huntsman and sweetly says, "Oh dear--he's having one of his fits again. Artists, you know. if I may have a moment?"

And the Huntsman shrugs and Snow swings off her horse and with one hard sharp look at the prince he slides to a stop and she grabs him by the arm and practically drags him by the stable out of sight.

"You can't go out there with him--" the Prince starts, "The Queen--"

"I know," Snow cuts him off.

"I'll--I'll follow you. At a distance. I can--"

"Don't." she squeezes his arm.

"But--"

"You were right," she says softly, "I don't have a plan. And I don't know what a world without the Queen looks like. And I'm scared of what I can do."

"Snow---"

"But I can change things. I don't know how, yet, but if nothing changes in here, maybe I need to go out there."

"But he's going to---"

"I changed you," she touches the side of his face, "And I'm so sorry for that. I'm so sorry everything's going to be harder for you from now on."

"I don't care about that--just tell me what to do, tell me how I can help--" the anguish in his voice is palpable.

"Prince [REDACTED] of Damp Kingdom," she says, and he stills at his name, "If I don't come back, destroy the mirror."

His jaw hangs slack. "How am I supposed to...?" he starts but then realizes he's talking to someone who's 90% sure she's riding out to her own murder, and he realizes it's not about him or her, it's about giving the world a fighting chance against the Queen's will. She's not going to let him kill himself trying to save her, but if he dies taking out that mirror...

And of course, like a dumbass, because he can't be a macho piece of shit for one second, he can't be like, 'Burr huburr I won't let that happen because I'm the hero' because he knows he's not the main character here. Because he fucking believes in her, he says, "I--I will."

Fuck. She didn't know. She didn't fucking know. Stupid fucking kid.

No, I don't want another fucking round. Can we get out of here? Can we walk? Let's just pick up the tab and go.

----

Thanks, man, sorry. Normally I'm really good with human-dense environments but--I couldn't stay in there. I hate this part of Snow's story. I know it's what brought her to us, but she came to us because she was like us, you know? She was a kid between worlds. No one comes into existence of their own free will, but it's fucked up if you come into everything on the margins like that. She should have had people. She should have had us.

What do you mean how did I do that?

Oh, [REDACTED]?

I dunno, man, I haven't been able to say his name for a really long time. I hate the new noise for it. It used to sound like a sharp note on a hurdy-gurdy, then it was radio static, and now it's been that dial-up... sound-badly-edited out of a film noise for a few decades now. Maybe one day it'll just be that dumb cheery TikTok AI voice going, "Redacted!" Can you imagine? What a fucking nightmare.

I should get back to the story.

So... Snow rides out with the Huntsman, and she spends the day picking feverfew and mushrooms. It's not a bad way to go out, all things considered. Just slit my throat nice and quick while I'm squatting over some thornapple. Except the Woodsman doesn't. For fucking hours and hours Snow is basically infodumping about plants and wondering why the hell she isn't murdered yet.

In the stories they keep saying that the woodsman saw that Snow was so pure or so beautiful that he couldn't bring himself to harm her. And maybe that happened. I've seen Snow turn that shit on and it's, you guessed it, actually scary as fuck. So, there's probably more deep-end fae versions of this where she just lights up like 'Vwooooom' and the Huntsman crumples before her like, "Forgive me! Forgive me, Princess-Messiah!" But like---here's the thing--

Snow told me she tried that. Not like, immediately, she waited for a while, knew they both kind of had to maintain this 'Tralala-wheee we're in the forest' thing, but there was a point where they were both riding, him on his destrier, she on her shaggy pony, and she glanced over at him and 'fwoooom' for all intents and purposes he should be looking at a fucking Marian Apparition. But he... didn't react to her at all. And that was when Snow saw he wasn't carrying his usual knife, and he had a box on his hip that gave her a headache and a weird ringing sensation in her teeth if she looked at it too long. So we're like, pretty sure the Queen made those objects with her jury-rigged alchemy bullshit so that, in theory, the huntsman would be able to cut out Snow's heart without it affecting the queen, and they gave him the added stat bonus of not crumpling in the face of The Miraculous Fae Weapon Princess Messiah on full-blast.

And then Snow, internally, is like, Ah. Fuck. Well, okay.

So the day drags on and on and fucking on. When's he gonna kill her? When is this piece of shit going to kill her? But he doesn't. So after about 3 hours, Snow is pretty sure this is now a fucked up psychological game from the Queen and she's like, I won't give her the satisfaction, and muscles on for another two hours, but then... she tried thinking, What can I do? I can change the world but I can't change this? I can... set bees on him? If I sing? Maybe? No--I can't explicitly ask for bees, it doesn't work if it's too specific--it answers to want--it answers to--

She told me that the image of the prince as that small child came to her mind unbidden then, then bare feet on freezing cold castle stones, his fate decided before he has any understanding of who he is, let alone what he can do, and all of a sudden she realizes that she's fae software running on human hardware and something in her snaps.

And she starts sobbing and blubbering hard. "If you're going to do it, just fucking do it already! Did she want this!? Did she want me to beg?!"

And the Huntsman flinches where he stands, and those big burly shoulders start buckling and heaving and he drops to the ground like a sack of bricks as he hyperventilates. "I can't--I--I have to--but--you're her age!"

Snow is caught mid sob then and makes a sound like "Whugh? "

"My daughter... I thought I could do this because you're--because I can see the queen in you---but I see her in you, too. I didn't think I would--god...if I don't---"

"The Queen will kill her," her voice is still phlegmmy, but the frost seems to be reforming with Snow, the steady resolve. I think this was another pure-of-heart thing--it's a lot harder for her to do something magical for herself, but if she's doing it for other people as well...

"She told me if I wanted to see her alive, I had to bring your heart back in this," the Huntsman pulls the box off of his belt and Snow winces at the full sight of it, "Sorry..."

"No--you didn't know--" Snow is pressing her fingers to her forehead, "So... a heart. You need a heart." She squeezes her eyes shut for a few seconds and then she says, "I can buy you time to run."

And she starts singing, it's a song similar to the one she was singing by the well, but there's more intent to it, now. She has the ingredients, the will, to build what she needs. There's that hook of wanting, that royal will, but layered on top of it is the plight of a father, the terror of a young lady, and the promise of immortality, of glory, in a story greater than you will ever now.

And an ancient boar comes trotting out of the woods. Snow kneels before it, strokes a hand along its coarse side, and touches her forehead to its own. Tears drip from her eyes and trickle down the sides of boar's scarred snout. A few more notes escape her, an apology, a promise of swiftness and comfort and ease, more than nature will ever grant it.

I need you to understand at this point, that Snow's ability to commune with animals is not a special trait of humanity. The boar connected with Snow because it saw something in her that most other humans had left behind.

Snow settles into a more comfortable sitting position and flairs out her skirts around herself, soft silks on the coarse grass, and the boar gently lays down on its side, setting its head in her lap. She looks up at the Huntsman and then flicks her eyelashes down at the boar in her lap. And without a word the huntsman understands.

Snow winces more than the boar when the knife is drawn, the metal seems to sing at a frequency only she can hear. She doesn't look away from the act, though. The boar doesn't struggle at all as the Huntsman draws the knife through the thick hide at its throat--there is a momentary tensing of the beast, but Snow strokes a hand across its side, breathing the words, "Thank you, thank you," and it eases and finally its old eye clouds. Both Snow and the Huntsman sit a few moments in respectful silence.

Finally the Huntsman says, "You must leave, Princess."

And Snow solemnly replies, "I know." A few seconds pass and then she says, "...I--um, I can't move my legs."

And the Huntsman goes, "Oh jeez--Sorry--" and helps haul the Boar off her legs.

She kisses the huntsman on the cheek with a soft "Thank you, sir, for everything," before taking off into the woods, her skirts soaked in blood.

Hey--I know a place nearby, it'll probably be last call by the time we get there, but we'll be out of the cold for at least a little bit. I get the vibe you'll like it better than the last bar. Come on.

[doiliedaze]

The First Taste

Warnings: vampire! sev, church singer! reader, sev was turned in 1632 & she’s permanently stuck at 35 physically, age gap (duh), reader is 27, takes place in Georgia 1932, blood, Christianity mentions but not too much, reader is a widow, mean! sev, fear play, vampire turning, Sevika masturbates to sleeping reader, Sevika touches reader while she sleeps, fingering (r! receiving), they fuck with blood on Sevika, murder, blood play, messy make out, spit swallowing (r! receiving), tribbing, I think that’s it I might’ve missed some

Genre: fluff, angst, smut

A/n: first off omggg thank you dolls for supporting me I can’t believe there’s 407 of y’all!! When I mention Sevika sinking her teeth into readers brown skin I don’t mean it in the sense that reader is a brown skin black woman just that she is a black women in general; I don’t want to be skin tone specific so any black girl can see herself 👌🏿okay so obviously I watched Sinners and there’s no female smoke so boom here we are! And although I love how the sinners vampires work I also love how TVD vampires work so due to jewelry vampires can be in the sun!

THIS IS A DARK FIC; IF THE WARNINGS MAKE YOU UNCOMFORTABLE PLEASE DONT READ YOUVE BEEN WARNED!!!

───────┈ · ·

Just. That’s how you’ve always been described. It’s a term you’ve built yourself upon. To be just is to value and upkeep fairness.

It’s something your mother called you when you were just a wee little thing.

You grew up in the church and that’s where you met your two first loves. Singing and Loretta.

Singing was natural to you. The type of voice you have isn’t something to be ignored! It landed you a spot front and center in the church choir! Singing is the only way you truly knew how to communicate…it’s also how you communicated to your Loretta outside of the stolen glances and swift hand holds.

Loretta was very business savvy and by the time she was 22, she had a booming restaurant! Of course you helped out where you could and it kept y’all close. So close y’all had your secret wedding in the basement.

Life felt almost perfect. Until she got sick. Loretta fought hard and long but after two years you lost your soulmate. The two of you lived together so you moved out to the country. The restaurant was left to be run by her brother.

Nothing felt like home anymore. When everyone suspected your friendship was more you stopped singing at the church and you couldn’t bare to be in that restaurant; it was filled with her essence.

Although you’re in a depression, you always found a way to create peace. Whether it’s making bird houses or tending to the foxes that sleep under your porch.

You headed off to sleep early when you felt a chill in the air. It wasn’t unusual considering it's September but the way your body shook was.

After a quick look around and the animals staying silent you laid down to drift asleep. If only you knew she was watching.

Sevika eyes scanned your sleeping figure. Infatuation is filling her chest and testing her impulses. How many times she’s wanted to approach you and get invited in your home but she knew that her timing has to be right.

Sevika has been traveling this world for centuries; three to be exact. Her goal at this point is to find peace, a slice of home.

You remind her of everything good in the world. Taking care of woodland creatures, donating the fruit you grow, watching you deny yourself pleasure but seeing how bad you want it!

Being a vampire especially for as long as Sevika’s been one can make you quite…eccentric!

Of course she knows right from wrong and this was teetering in being wrong—but she can’t help but let her fingers slide into her pants and play with her fat clit. Her middle and ring finger moving south to enter her dripping cunt.

She created a routine around you. Can’t even hunt until she’s touched herself. A little pathetic but she’s nothing if not devoted!

Her carnal needs to graze your heavy breast with her fangs and for her mouth to leave bites on your brown skin.

The speed of her fingers increases, and her snarls turn into pleading whimpers as she reaches her climax. Her breath fanning the window and her fingers pressing against the glass. The thought of you at her mercy, her clit rubbing against yours as she holds your face, the look you'd give her as you cum.

Her chest heaves in sharply as her climax settles. With her hunger for you somewhat satisfied she goes on a hunt.

Two days pass and you are tending to your apple tree when your ladder wobbles under you! Trying to balance yourself you fall, but you don't hit the ground?

The scream that erupted from your chest kept going even as you look at the women who saved you. Annoyed she dropped you and you groan slightly in pain.

"Who are you?" you huff

"I don't get a thank you?" she says with a small smile, "not when you are a stranger on my property!” You retort, but before you could stand up she squatted to your level.

“I wasn’t trying to scare you, you see I’m traveling and I was passing through till I could find somewhere to stay.”

Something in your gut stirs at her explanation but you push it to the side. “Traveling from where?”

“From New Hampshire, had a pal who owed me over there.” She says flatly, but there was a gleam over her eyes and all your inquiries went away.

Your mind felt a bit fuzzy after your stare down and all your questions dies on your tongue. “So is it alright if I come in? Would that bother your husband?”

The idea of you being married to a man snaps you out your daze. “I don’t have a husband.” You say quickly as her eyes look at your ringed finger, she whispers an I see.

“Then would your…partner feel an imposition with me being here?” Her lips were all your eyes could focus on as she drawls her sentence. Something about her bring up all your danger signals but it also calms you…might just be your pussy thinking.

“She wouldn’t mind, her being dead and all.” Finally you rise and so does she. Her broad built blocks the sun from pouring down on you. Softly you cease the creases in your dress as you tell her she can come in.

Your words flow to Sevika like music in her ears. Once the two of you step inside and she takes a look around she extends her hand. “The names Sevika, you?”

You stop at her introduction, “Sevika?” there was a moment in time when you swore you’d hear that name in a your dreams but never could understand why?

“Is there a problem?” She says as she rest her hand on your shoulder. The touch snaps you out your thoughts; the second time today, maybe you need some water you think.

“I’m fine I just…must be dehydrated is all.” You show her where she’d be sleeping. “My room is down the hall from yours so if you need anything I’ll be there.”

That evening you gave her space to adjust and she never came out for dinner despite you knocking on the door five times.

Little do you know she’s out hunting to make sure she doesn’t lose her control around you.

You heard her return when you went to lay your head on your pillow. Out of curiosity you slipped out of bed, your satin pink night gown slinking to you as you do.

Tip-toeing through the hall you peep down the staircase to see—nothing? Thinking you must’ve misheard the noises for her you head back to your room after you bump right into her chest.

To steady yourself, you grip her visible arm not daring to touch her poncho knowing how she is sensitive about her arm.

“Didn’t mean to scare you.” Sevika states flatly with a tinge of strain in her voice. “What were you doing?” You question as you move to stand against the opposing wall.

“Needed to feel the night air. Can’t sleep if I don’t walk.”

“Why didn’t you answer the door when I knocked?”

“You ask everyone this many questions mhm?”

“Just the avoidant ones” you quip as your breathe shutters caught under her sharpening gaze. “Wasn’t hungry, goodnight” she says curtly before heading to her room.

Curiosity was vibrating through your whole body but you kept it to yourself, for now at least.

You left all your questions in the back of your mind for a month. Sevika started to warm up to you. Help you in the garden, even cooked with you once but left when you cut your wrist by accident. Funny thinking a woman like that is squeamish!

The two of you would enjoy solitude together, a nice day reading a book on the porch. However it was the same every night. She wouldn’t eat dinner with you, go on her walk then straight to her room before telling you a soft goodnight and gracing you with a gaze.

Her moments of being hot and cold didn’t help the numerous dreams you had of her. The more time pass the more lewd the dreams are. Tonight your brain wonders how it would feel to be ravished by her. Her tongue on yours, her fingers thrusting in and out of your needy cunt. For her to leave bruises in areas only she’d see, to moan her name and it brand the walls.

As you stir in your sleep you whimper her name. Sevika's ear twitches as she picks up your subconscious calls. Sevika paces in her room before mindlessly walking to the door. She’s been so patient and she’s this close to taking what’s hers.

Fuck it. Sticking with her pattern of bad decisions, she walks into your room quietly.

Her eyes rake over your figure as you stir in bed. Forehead light with sweat, bonnet lost in your pillows, nipples harden and legs tangled in your sheets. The most beautiful thing she’s seen in her 300 years.

Softly she spreads your legs, lifts your gown to your hips and stares at your exposed pussy. She has come to learn you love the semi-nude, as you’ve expressed it to her when the two of you looked over your sketches.

The sweetest bush is staring at her and it’s begging to be taken care of! At least that’s what she’s telling herself.

Her knee softly indents your bed as she settles inbetween your thighs. Her lips press a soft kiss against your clit and she can feel it twitch against her and she let out a snarl.

Her tongue twist around your pearl as her middle finger submerges into your pussy. Quickly Sevika looked up to see if she’s stirred you and she hadn’t. As she pushed in her ring finger your pussy squelch and your breathe hicks.

Her tongue catches a dribble of your wetness before it falls onto your bed. The slightest taste of you turned her brain off.

Holding in her moans she slowly thrust her fingers as she could feel your senses elevate. Her tongue slides into your pussy, a still figure to contrast her moving fingers.

Your heart races in your sleep and your body stirs as your breathing hitches. You’re waking up.

Sevika moans a fuck against you and pulls away. Quickly she fixes your dress and in an moment she’s in her bed.

Her chest heaves as her mind races. Your perfection and she craves more. Her fingers find their way to her sticky underwear, and they slide underneath them to tend to her throbbing clit. The thought of your juices mixing with her creamy pussy sent her into overdrive.

That morning was awkward to say the least. You’re praying she doesn’t find out you had a wet dream about her and she praying you didn’t realize she was there.

The awkwardness led to clumsiness and you two bumping into each other as y’all set the table. When she catches you, her instinct was to hold you close alas all she allows herself to do is to relish in your scent.

"Could you sleep?" you whisper looking at her lips. There was nothing shy about your gaze.

"Don't look at me like that" was the hardest sentence Sevika ever muttered. "Like what?" you tease looking up at her batting those pretty lashes.

The dreams, hearing her name before, the way you met all of it had to be a sign for something? Love became a distant notion after Loretta died, maybe this could be your second shot at it!

She's the one who's been telling you that if you want something go after it! Why not apply it to her?

"I'm not someone you play with." "Who said I'm play Sev?" Frustrated she sighs and sits down for breakfast, "eat" she orders.

"What if I don't want to?"

"Eat your fucking food and stop being a brat." Her glare was sharp and struck some fear into your chest but some heat to your cunt.

Quickly and silently, you sat down and ate your food.

The leading days have been a test of both of y'all restraint. The sly touches or the comments that could mean something else starting to drive Sevika insane and the fight she has to not engage in your seduction.

She wants you; there's no denying that, but she wants you her way.

For you to know what she is but she has to know it won't scare you away. Sevika has seen you deal with dead things and can gauge it doesn't bother you in the sense of fear. However it makes you cry, she wouldn't know what to do with herself if you cried because of her.

As November is coming to an end the town was throwing a fall festival. The two of you haven't gone into a town in a while you were going to ask her if she wants to go to the markets!

You knock on her door, and she didn't answer. Odd? Sure, its late but this isn't her hours of solitude? So, you move and you search for her outside already knowing she isn't downstairs.

Something in the air feels off as you start to get frantic. Sevika has only been around for almost four months, but those months of company have felt like a new lifetime compared to those five years of isolation.

Slowly you enter your backyard and there you see her. The moonlight was shining on her as she was feasting on your nearest neighbor's wife. Her back was hunched, and she was snarling as she was draining her. Your breath was lost in your throat and your stomach twists.

Backing away you accidently step on a twig. It's naive to think she didn't already know you were there. She could smell your sweet perfume in the howling wind.

Her large figure rises from the sunken corpse and slowly turns to you. Hair was falling onto her face and her sad eyes widen. Although your far she reaches her hand out. "Listen it's not what you think" she pleads as she slowly approaches you. The blood stained her from her chin to her waist. If you weren't riddle with the urge to run you would've vomited.

Anything grounding you relinquished as your feet lifted underneath you. The movements of your hands resemble a tornado as you scurry for a knife. When looking out the window, she's nowhere to be seen. However, you hear her taunt, "it's not nice to run from your friends y/n."

The voice is like an echo in your head with no real placement. The tears were starting to brim your eyes, but you fought them as you tip toed through the house. When you felt like you were in the clear you went back outside. Sure, she's some freak of nature vampire but you've learned these woods for the past five years!

For ten whole minutes nothing happen as you waited deep in the woods. The burn in your ears stopped as you realize you hear nothing—not one animal. Fear settles in your stomach once more as it dawns on you; it's 2 am, animals have left the woods, you're an hour on foot from your home and you're in heels.

"Can we talk please?" she whispers in your ear. Your body viscerally shakes when her hand snakes around your waist. Immediately you take off and when you look back at her she looks so disappointed.

Instantly you find yourself on the ground and the wind knocked outta ya. Her boot meets your chest to keep you still and from reaching the knife two inches away from your fingertips.

"Listen doll I was gonna tell ya, but how do you bring this up?" She emphasizes pointing at the blood. "We can have this conversation here or we can be civil and go back ho-"

You cut her off by stretching your arm out and gripping the knife. With all your strength you wedge it into her ankle and take it out to lodge it into her knee!

Sevika lets out a monstrous howl of pain and moves her leg away from you to take out the knife.

Scrambling to your feet, you take off and don't look back. Home is too far but you know a short cut from here to town!

Not even two minutes pass before she grabs you by your hair and slings you to the ground. You roll in pain holding your aching scalp that you don't realize your cheek has a cut on it.

She leans over you, any sadness and remorse she had gone. Her thumb rubs your cut, and she moans at the taste of your blood. "Please don't kill me" you whimper as you weakly put your hand against her shoulder.

"I'd never could...I didn't even want to hurt you, but you ran." Your stomach burns at the sight of her. Hair sticking to her forehead, eyebrows tense, blood smeared on her face; she's never looked more beautiful to you.

She doesn’t say a word and wipes tears you didn't know were falling.

Would it be just to assume she was some sort of horrible creature because she's a vampire? Do these moments negate the months you've gotten to know her? You have showed her some things you never showed Loretta! That has to mean something. If you never saw what you saw, you'd be at the festival with her, something you haven't partook in for three years.

Love comes in many forms and maybe this is yours...

Shakily your hands find her face and you whisper a barely audible okay.

"You'll let me have you?"

"For eternity"

That's all she needs to hear before her lips found yours. The kiss is slow and pathetic. Hands not knowing where to stay.

Her lips were cold, until now it never dawned on you how cold she is. Sevika was melting against you not remembering something so warm. It almost felt wrong to know she won't feel it again.

The kiss hastens as you let her tongue in your mouth. Some of the blood on her chin smearing onto you. The cold blood drips down your chin to the valley of your breast. Her tongue leaves your mouth to lick up the blood. Before she could swallow you whisper "share."

Who is she to deny her woman? She lets the blood drip off her tongue and fall onto yours. She stares deep into your eyes as she watches you swallow the mixture of her spit and the blood.

Without another thought Sevika rips your clothes off you, the coldness immediately hitting your nipples. Sevika kept up with every mental promise she made herself. Her teeth grazing your bountiful breast as her finger move quickly to curl in your pussy.

The night sky is filled with your whines and whimpers. Your abused pussy squeezing around her thick fingers chasing your fifth climax. She can't help but torture you, the faces and noises you make are hypnotic.

"Need to feel you" you cry out in a way that makes her clit throb. Sevika's fingers leave you gaping and dripping. Hurriedly she takes her pants and underwear off and places her creamy pussy against yours.

Her clit rubs on your puffy pearl. The moans mindlessly flow out of your raw throats. The mixture of y'all cum drip onto the floor of the woods and the moon leaves the two of you in your shared darkness.

It didn't take long for your hips to stagger and needing her hands to hold your shaking hips. It almost hurts to rub your clit against hers but it's a pain you'll take if it makes you feel like this.

Sevika straightens her back to get a better grip on your hips, angling them upwards. You gasp for air as you feel her cunt slam against yours.

The veil of darkness is cut but the glow in Sevika's eyes. Maybe it's the need to be wanted forever or maybe it's the ecstasy but you tell her, "Take me, change me please!"

Her hand drops from her hip, and she presses her body on top of yours, her thrust staggering as she's close.

Sevika seeps her fangs into your inviting neck. Her eyes shine a sickening crimson red, and she climaxes against you.

The pain and pleasure are overwhelming as you climax alongside her. You could feel your body shake with fever as the venom seeps into your bloodstream. Quickly Sevika gets off of you and holds your hand as you grow cold.

Just. That's how you've always been described. You value fairness and making the best choices despite how hard things can be. This time around your soul is free to be in love and that feels fair enough to you.

───────┈ · ·

A/n: might be my favorite one yet ٩( ᐛ )و I really loved sinners it was a gorgeous movie and I hope y’all enjoy this fic as much as I did! I really missed making super detailed stories so my next couple post will be surrounding that, probably more supernatural/fantasy ones too! Love you dolls! Recently a couple blogs I follow on my main blog have been interacting with my stories and I get so giddy seeing it໒꒰ྀི ˃ ᵕ ˂ ꒱ྀི১

Taglist: @manfuckthisimout @bambishaven @femme-historian @furrytaesss @milanyas @highnfemme @5seos @artemisdreamfairie @ellabswife

Dividers- @notaorbital

[xechu]

Black Scripture

pairing: phantom!suguru x scriptwriter!reader wc: 1.9k cw: 18+ / MDNI. Please read my blog rules before interacting. Dark romantasy themes. Sensuality & symbolic smut. Emotional detachment/lack of will to live (from reader), emotional death/rebirth imagery. Vampiric undertones (fangs, mentions of blood). Religious/godlike undertones but purely fictional. Read at your discretion. tag: one-shot, dark romantasy, dark divinity au summary: He was your muse. Your phantom. Your final chapter. a/n: been inspired by a lot of dark fantasy and gothic themes lately. Still slightly in a writing stump, but these one-shots have been a nice breather for me. This is a work of fiction and does not reflect real-life values or relationship standards. Thank you for reading and enjoy. x

There was a phantom in your mirror. 

He dwelled behind the curtains, and in the words between your scripts.

Everyone had thought you’d gone mad—some even secretly rejoiced in your mental decay. Your rise to fame and fortune came too fast, too effortlessly, which could only mean one thing: the devil.

A deal inked in blood.

A soul traded for brilliance.

Because surely, it wasn’t natural talent. After all, nature takes its time to bear fruit.

They say that every great artist eventually descends into madness—a gateway to becoming legendary. Their names forever etched in history, but their minds long since burned to ash. Take Van Gogh, Schumann, Poe. They created beauty from nothing, and lost themselves to the very muses that immortalized them.

And it seems that you, too, were teetering on the brink. One misstep, and you will lose yourself to him—the phantom. Your muse. 

Was he truly a man, or just a figment of imagination? 

Either way, you owed him your success. 

You sat alone in your change room. Everyone had long since gone. It was a usual routine. Despite your fame, you never had an assistant—there was no need. 

It was better to be alone. 

Perhaps that was why some prayed for your downfall. To them, you were everything but a prodigy—a diva, a snob, an arrogant young woman who let fame get to her head.

A heartless, meritless witch.

In truth, you were neither heartless nor arrogant—only misunderstood.

Yet, you had come to realize that it was futile to dispel every rumor. People always gravitated toward scandal and fantastical stories, like moths drawn to a flame. At first, you believed as long as you still had the talent, no one could deny you. 

But you were naive. 

Among the scattered papers, you quietly scribbled away as you sat in front of your vanity. Only the scratch of nib on parchment filled the silence. It was almost complete—your final masterpiece: Black Scripture.

Final, because you have decided that this will be your parting gift to the world. Your legacy. 

You required no standing ovation. No applause. 

Only a quiet leave.

Even as your change room was surrounded by vibrant blooms and lavish gifts—a token from yet another successful play you had written—you had never felt lonelier. The chasm in your chest never felt darker, deeper. It felt as though at any moment, it would consume you, like a black hole.

Perhaps you were going mad. 

And just as you were about to surrender yourself completely—he appeared.

Consistent. Predictable. Like clockwork, he never came a second too soon, nor a second too late. Always right when you were a breath away from breaking.

Was he an angel? Or truly the devil?

You wanted to ask. But he never spoke.

He stood there—a shadowy figure in the corner of your mirror.

“You have come to visit again,” you said with a faint smile. Your fountain pen gently clacking on top of the wooden surface.

No answer. 

“Perhaps you have sensed it?” You continued softly. “That my final script is almost complete.”

There was a tinge of melancholy in the air. No one knew that it would soon be your final act.

“It is thanks to you, that I have been able to bring life to my stories—to see the world of art, theatrics, and music. It was all that I have dreamed of since a child.” You reminisced. 

Your gaze continue to fix on the shadowy form. But tonight, there was an inexplicable tension in the air. Did your phantom muse know, too? That the end was near. That when the sun rises, you will no longer be here.

“Will you not speak to me? Grant an old friend one last wish?” 

You turned around to meet him where he would be, but nothing was there. 

A disappointed sigh escaped your lips. It had always been the same—he remained wordless and always confined within the mirror. A quiet guardian, observing you, anchoring you.

Yet, if he was truly a friend and not foe, why did he keep you at arm’s length?

You had always wanted to hear his voice—to ascertain that this was all real. Alas, he was only a myth. But as you turned back to your mirror, something unimaginable happened.

He stood before you.

Shadow became man. 

He looked at you with piercing eyes. Dark and mysterious. He emitted a cold aura, and yet, you had never felt so comforted.

“You had written me to this world—breathed life into me. And now you wish to depart?” His voice like velvet. Smooth, calming, and warm.

Your breath hitched. You had always wished for him to be real, and now, as he stood before you, you found yourself unable to comprehend the situation. 

“Is it truly you?” you whispered, awestruck.

A small smile graced his lips as he nodded.

Slowly, you rose from the plush seat. Your hand reached out, trembling slightly, to touch his face. You caressed the warmth of his skin beneath your fingertips—committing every inch of your long-awaited muse to memory.

He didn’t reject your touch. In fact, he leaned into it—inhaling the soft scent that lingered at your wrist. He looked at you with a yearning so intense it scorched you from the inside out. His gaze alone could set your soul ablaze.

“I’ve always wished you were real,” you breathed. “And now…you’re here.”

Your hands continued to trace his form, as if still trying to convince yourself he wouldn’t vanish.

“Yes,” he murmured. “I am here now. So why must you go?”

There was a sadness in his eyes. He already knew. He knew what you were planning to do.

“There is nothing left for me,” you shook your head. But there was no bitterness in your voice—only acceptance. “I’ve written all I can for the world.”

He caressed your face and caught a stray tear—a tiny drop that betrayed the vast expanse of your emotions.

“Yet, the world has returned you nothing but false gossip and superficial praises.” There was a hint of displeasure in his voice.

You softly chuckled—a melody to his ears. “It’s fine. I shouldn’t ask for any more. Their shallow praise and admiration put food on the table. It gave me comfort. Luxury. A beautiful life, really.”

“Then why leave if you are comfortable and content?” 

You shook your head again. “Because the flame within me had died. Passion lost. Purpose long forgotten.”

He studied you for a long moment, then turned his gaze toward the script on your desk. With careful hands, he picked it up—handling it like a sacred treasure.

“You say passion is lost…yet, you still wrote something so brilliant?” he mused, eyes scanning the pages.

“It is my final piece, after all. I would like to leave a legacy behind.” 

He hummed thoughtfully, then stepped closer. His hand ghosted behind your waist, drawing you gently into him.

“Then stay,” he whispered. His breath tenderly kissed your ear. “Allow me to rewrite you.”

“Black Scripture” - Final Act She found herself at a crossroad, both paths unclear. One illuminated, while the other was shrouded in an opaque darkness. A darkness that consumed even the brightest light. Yet, she found salvation in the dark—there was something about her that always went against the grain of nature.  And so she slowly trekked the path to oblivion. But what she did not know was that beyond the sea of black, something laid after it. Something that she had always yearned for. A hand stretched out beyond the darkness— His voice whispered, “Take my hand. And thine shall be the eyes that see the light. For true salvation was never obvious, but cloaked in disguise—to deter false believers.” 

Your fingers interlocked with his as the two of you stood together on stage, facing the empty audience. Though you had memorized every word, every expression, and every emotion by heart—you had never once performed under the spotlight. You were content to remain behind the curtains, watching your stories come to life through others.

But now, standing here—beside the very one who had been the core of every award-winning script you had ever written—there was a flicker of something new.

Exhilaration.

“So tell me,” he asked, lifting your hand into his, “what happens after she takes his hand?”

“She asks for her savior’s name,” you breathed.

“And what is the savior’s name?” he softly chuckled, eyes glinting with mischief.

“Yours.” The thought slipped out of your tongue before you could stop it.

The air shifted between the two of you. His eyes became unreadable. 

“I am no savior though,” he said. The words felt like a dark confession wrapped in silk. 

It was…alluring. 

“May I still know your name?” 

“Suguru,” he said very simply. 

You repeated it, as if a sacred name. The syllables rolled from your lips, like sweet honey, sending heat throughout his veins. 

“Suguru’s voice whispered,” you said, voice hushed as you recited your own script. “Take my hand. And thine shall be the eyes that see the light. For true salvation was never obvious, but cloaked in disguise—to deter false believers.”

“And so, she takes his hand,” Suguru continued in a reverent whisper, tightening his grasp as he pulled you in—your face now mere inches from his.

“And willingly submits herself to him. Born anew through dark baptism—her soul now, forever intertwined with his.”

A pang struck through your heart as Suguru spoke the words. As though you have felt your script turning into prophecy. 

“Is this a dream?” Your voice quivered with uncertainty. Because if it was, you never wanted to wake from it. 

He didn’t answer with words. Instead, he presses his lips into yours. 

Kisses became hungry—and soon, not enough to satiate.

How does one quell the many years of silent yearning?

Watching. Waiting. The ache of being so close, yet worlds apart.

To watch you be admired by so many—yet their praises fell hollow, and their envy-laced compliments, blasphemous.

What you deserved was not meager words—you deserved worship.

Perfect devotion, inked in flesh.

A need only he could satisfy.

So then—came surrender.

Clothes rustled upon the grand stage, the phantom audience poised to bear witness to the consummation.

The air was thick with impatience and anticipation, as bare skin revealed itself.

Beauty in its rawest form.

No painting. No theatre. No song. No script—could ever capture its truth.

Bodies begin to join, initial pain morphs to eventual pleasure with every movement, every gaze, and every whisper. Cries of euphoria echoed through the theatre—like an opera that sang of pure love and devotion.

Warmth spilled through your body in the height of crescendo, every inch of you set ablaze as he marked you. A dark possession overcame you as you watched him tremble—yet still, ensuring that every last drop was taken.

Two souls, inexplicably bound forevermore. Witnessed by a silent audience.

“Take me,” you murmured. While he was still joined with you. “Take it all, if it means that I could be with you.” 

Who was he to deny his soulmate?

“Then bear with me, angel,” he said. Voice still hoarse from the intense climax. “This pain will be temporary, but our happiness shall be forever.”

And so, he sank his fangs into your pulse. Your blood like crimson honey on his tongue—a taste he would never forget. 

As life faded from your eyes, you were born anew. 

Emerged as his soul-bound.

Beyond the veil of darkness, you had indeed found light. 

You his eternal goddess, and he, your everlasting scripture. 

Writing © xechu - please do not redistribute, translate, or repost any of my works.

Graphic divider source: here via @/troublesomesnitch

[catras-breakup-song]

catradora's canon status turns 5 today. i also turn 20 today. 🪅

i've spent an entire quarter of my life, a whopping 25% of it now, loving the center focus of she-ra and what this show teaches us...

it's actually pretty wild for me to think too deeply about. truly, it can't not mean something absolutely special (if i love myself, of course) when that much of a coincidence is actually reality.

this story isn't just a hyperfixation, it's a permanent part of who i am. it's shaped my later teenage years and helped me through hard times consisting of confusion and loneliness. i resonated better with catra & glimmer than any other fictional characters i had known before or would ever know since then. i found the art style soothing to stare at all the time. i appreciated the words of comfort we're supposed to internalize. it's been a consistent source of familiarity when i needed nothing more than to rewatch the same scenes repeatedly.

the online community surrounding western queer animation, and particularly this piece of media, kickstarted my hobby of collecting video edits, up to the thousands, that many talented creators have made, on an external drive. unfortunately i lost that project over the summer last year and it devastated me deeply, however i never stopped keeping track of my favorites and supporting the works i loved as i continued coming across them, such as this one to "the great war" by @somanypetals, which i will never stop recommending to others here ─ you can also go through my tag for this topic if you'd like! in fact, i also got back into video editing myself for the first time since 2021 last month!

additionally, it wouldn't be an authentic CBS post of mine if i didn't highlight how beautiful five by five takes' analysis videos on youtube are to me. their writing is a top-tier heart-wrenching gold mine and i've lost count of how many times i've rewatched through that playlist again and again. if you love this masterpiece as much as i do, you'll do so tenfold here. i still remember watching the first part of the series, "how she-ra gives us hope", when it was brand new, and i love bragging to fellow friends about being one of 5X5T's earliest subscribers from this fandom!

i (sort of but not really, which is a long complicated story on its own), came from the traumatized wave of angry voltron/KL fans. thankfully i didn't struggle with trusting the writers to follow through on the groundwork they laid down because it had only been my first fandom and therefore i hadn't been hurt by queerbaiting multiple times, but i say this because it was a big deal when she-ra's finale showed something on screen that could not be taken away or undone. catra & adora's romance helped me find peace & pride in my lesbian attraction. although i ended up not being homosexual despite failing to realize it for another year, i am still very much sapphic and wouldn't trade that gift for the world!

speaking of which, one of the best things you can find in a partner is the relatability of a common interest that brings out the emotional connection between you. i've seen @bluedandylyon around before, but i got to know xim more closely on the SPOP creative flex discord server after i jumped in activity there about a month and a half ago (and i only started being active on this blog again after creating it in 2022 back in august last year, it's amazing what that did for me). the two of us genuinely could not have clicked better with anyone else and i believe we were always destined to stumble into each other eventually. i don't know why the universe decided that time was to be so recent, but after spending half a decade single it's been very exciting to finally leave that break behind. because of SPOP, i asked them if they wanted to date on lesbian visibility day (april 26) and something within me renewed to make me the happiest i've ever been! 💟

my thoughts are too scattered and unorganized for this to feel like a proper essay of some sort, but i know i needed to get this done in time and i enjoyed it. i can't appreciate enough how much my identity, the core essence of who i am inside, has been shaped by this 50-episode cartoon. a simple love letter could never cover how important this reboot means to so many people, even if mattel still refuses to acknowledge it. ⚔️🌈💖

[namelessmoons-corner]

Paeonia officinalis - Tender love ☆ OP81

From the series petals unfolding, forever anew

Pairing: Oscar Piastri x Mirabelle Desmarais (OC) Summary: Mirabelle is a Monaco-based florist and Oscar is a Formula 1 driver. They're trying to soft launch their relationship, but the world might decide otherwise. Wordcount: 1.8k AO3 link

☆: .｡.o.｡.:☆

Taken from a Instagram Live (23/07/2024)

Mirabelle is seen standing behind a table with a multitude of flowers in front of her. While she talks, she slowly chooses flowers to add to the bouquet in her hand, stripping them of their leaves. 

↬  So pretty! ↬  What kind of flowers are there? ↬  Who are the flowers for? ↬  How much do you charge for a bouquet? ↬  what if i’m allergic to flowers? ↬  Why aren’t you wearing gloves? ↬  Is that Oscar’s WAG? ↬  Why are u using insta live when twitch is available? ↬  the live is so soothing!

A woman’s voice, heavily accented,  cuts through Mirabelle’s humming. 

“So Mimi, I have a question from the viewers! How much does a bouquet cost?”

“Well it really depends! This one is made with peonies, and the budget of the client was 30 euros, so I’m putting 8 of them and agrementing it with some smaller flowers, like some heather and here I'm adding some achillées… I can't remember the name in english…” She frowns, clearly trying to remember the name of the flower. “I know! It’s milfoil! Yep, I'm adding some milfoil!”

↬  what do peonies mean? ↬  Please make me a bouquet! ↬  Why weren’t you at the Hungarian GP? ↬  That’s too much! ↬  I would never pay 30€ for a bouquet! ↬  please raise your prices ↬  Why is this girl so famous ↬  Can you answer? ↬  would you use twitch or ur lives? ↬  Please say hi Lily!

“Someone is asking if you can say hi Lily! and what peonies mean. They didn’t specify but I would guess that it’s about the language of flowers.” the same voice from before asks, coming from behind the camera.

“Well, hi Lily! I hope you’re doing well today! and peonies can mean a lot of different things, often associated with love. I have pink peonies here, and they represent tender love. I think for this bouquet, the client wants to show their admiration for the person they’ll give this to.”

↬  Are you a real florist? ↬  Where are you based? ↬  Do you know Oscar? ↬  Do you have a website? ↬ Insta is a mess; pls use Twitch ↬  I’d love to buy a bouquet from you ↬  What’s your favorite flower? ↬  Do you like f1?

“Mimi, someone is asking if you know Oscar!” The voice is amused, as if the woman knows something the viewers don’t. “And also if you like f1?”

Mirabelle blushes, her hair doing nothing to hide the red on her cheeks. “I know a lot of Oscars. And I do like F1, so I try to watch the Grand Prix when I have time.” After this intervention, Mirabelle focuses on the bouquet, adding the finishing touches before wrapping it carefully and stapling her business card to the paper sheet. She puts the bouquet aside then and says goodbye to the viewers before the live ends.

Monaco (23/07/2024)

After a long day of standing in her flower shop, plucking the leaves of flowers and creating bouquets, Mirabelle only wants to lie on her couch and take a nap. But her boyfriend and her have a dinner planned at the restaurant. Maybe she can still take a small nap. Less than an hour, she thinks. Her watch shows that it’s a bit after seven, and they’d decided to go out for nine thirty, so this means she still has some time before she needs to leave her flat for the small hole in the wall. But to leave her flat, she still needs to get to it. She’ll reach it in two minutes, but her feet are killing her.

Fortunately, she wore her dirty sneakers today and she doesn’t live far from her place of work. The perks of living in Monaco, she thinks. Maybe the only perk, aside from the beautiful view she has from her flat. She’s not here for the taxes, that’s for sure. And even if she wanted to pay less taxes, it’s not like the French government would let her.

Finally home, she removes her shoes and stretches her feet. The apartment is quite warm, hotter than the outside weather; but Mirabelle knows that it’s because she lives on the highest floor and that the building is quite old.

The fan is still where she left it this morning before leaving, so she puts a wet cloth on it before turning it on and opening the windows. Fresh air will be good.

As she goes to sit on the couch, the front door opens, keys jingling as Oscar lets himself into her flat. She’d given him the keys a few months ago, when she’d had time to make a copy of her own. At first, he’d tried to argue that he wouldn’t need them and that him having the keys to her home would be overstepping, but she’d reminded him that he still didn’t have a place in Monaco and what if he needed to put away his suitcase when she was working?

Against a logical argument that her boyfriend didn’t even try to counter, he’d just taken the keys with a sigh before adding them to his own key ring.

Mirabelle smiles at Oscar, happy to see him. He’s dragging a black suitcase into the flat, and she can see from her seat on the couch the eyebags underneath his eyes. She knows this wasn’t how her boyfriend had wanted to win his first Grand Prix, but McLaren shouldn't spoil what should have been a great day for her boyfriend.

She got up from the couch and crossed the distance separating them in three long strides, hugging him and holding on, the two of them alone, drawing comfort from the presence of the other.

Taken from Twitter (July 2024)

@/flowersandf1 Has anyone seen how @/mirabelledesmarais blushed after her friend mentioned Oscar?? I sense something is afoot ↬ @/oscatpastry I feel like there are some pics on twt floating around of them talking ↬ @/f14ever Obvi she knows Oscar, he’s super famous. She’s a nobody tho so imo she’s not even on his radar ↬ @/81futurewag And she’s boring and basic, isn’t she? she wouldn’t deserve him anywayssss

@/iddieformirabelle OMG @/mirabelledesmarais is so pretty, i’d die for her (writing this tweet in english because i’ve realised that she has 2 fandoms and i need them to interact) ↬ @/mimisflowers That’s so true!! i know that ive been a fan of hers for a few months now but i watch her english content because i don’t speak french except for oui oui baguette ↬ @/mirabellelaqueen i’ve met her once and she was so nice!! i have a picture with her now and i remember she was so surprised that i recognized her

@/oscarpiastriloml honestly whos this mirabelle and why are we hearing about her on f1 twt?? go back to your fcking flowers ↬ @/mimidefender4life btch who do u think u are? at least mirabelle is famous, go back to crying in ur moms skirts ↬ @/desfleurspourmirabelle jvous jure les fans de f1 ils sont desesperants vraiment des enfants (istg f1 fans are hopeless really they’re children)

@/op81wdc i have no idea who @/mirabelledesmarais is because i hyperfixate on f1 but could we please, the f1 fandom as a whole, leave her alone? like chill guys we don’t even if know they know each other but even if they did, it’s really not our business ↬ @/papayaforthewin hear hear ↬ @/hereforlandoscar i have no idea how i got to this side of twt, as im usually deep into landoscar land but i agree, lets leave this girl alone? are u people children ↬ @/orangepapaya EVEN IF THEYRE TOGETHER THEYRE BOTH CONSENTING ADULTS OMG

Monaco (still 23/07/2024, later in the day)

After an hour resting on the couch and looking at the white ceiling in all of its bareness, Mirabelle groans and gets up from her position, cracking the bones of her spine in a satisfying sound. Then come her shoulders, her elbows, her wrists and finally her fingers. Once she has finished sounding like wood creaking; she goes to her bedroom and slides open the door of her closet. What to wear? The restaurant is not high end, probably on the other side of the spectrum, and they’ve both been there multiple times.The sky is still clear from clouds; but the temperature has definitely dropped. When she puts her arm out of the window, she can feel the breeze of the sea moving her arm hairs, and she gets goosebumps.

She’s on the last floor of the building, so she knows that on the street, the air will be hotter. She wants to wear one of Oscar’s hoodies anyways, so she’ll probably steal it from his suitcase when he’s showering. She grins thinking about it. Oscar thinks he hides his emotions well but she can see  that he loves when she’s wearing his clothes. He’s got a possessive streak in him. 

After her shower, she decides to let her skin breath and only puts her serum before going back to the small living room and letting him know that the bathroom is free. He smiles at her gratefully and gets up to go shower. 

Once they're both ready, with her in a bright orange hoodie (it’s papaya, Oscar tells her, but honestly papaya is just a shade of orange), they put on their shoes and go out on the streets of Monaco, hand in hand.

The night is theirs to do as they please, and do as they please they shall do.

Instagram post (24/07/2024)

@/mirabelledesmarais

[Image of a strawberry blonde woman in her twenties holding more and thirty flowers in front of her. The flowers are not arranged in a bouquet, and they are all in shades of pinks and creams. Mirabelle is smiling wide, her hair in disarray]

🖤 💬 

20k Likes

mirabelledesmarais merci à tous d’être venu.e.s regarder le live, ça m’a fait plaisir de pouvoir échanger avec vous! (A thank you to everyone for watching the live, I was so happy to talk with you!)

And I listened to your suggestion, so the next live will be on my brand new Twitch channel @/mirabelletalksflowers (with a small surprise)

photographer: the wonderful @/celia_guillaume

Comments

@/celia_guillaume: OMG but who took that pic!! they must be so talented :) and now i need a bouquet from you ma star (my star)

@/autistic.s0up: obsessed with you! 💜

@/lilyofthevalley: Quand est ce qu’on te voit dans une formule 4 🫣😘(when will we see you in a formula 4 car 🫣😘)

@/fleurtoujours: so pretty i’m on my knees

@/minaregardelaformule1: notre reine à toutes (our queen)

☆: .｡.o.｡.:☆

And here it is!! I'm happy that my writer's block finally lifted long enough this afternoon and tonight for me to get this out of my head ahaha! I'll probably write other installments in this series, so if you want to be on the taglist, don't hesitate to tell me :)

See you ★,°:.☆(￣▽￣)/$:.°★ 。

☽ Moon ☾

[murasakilady]

Oh, boy, I hope I can do this right…

🐵 - Probably my first attempt at a novel that ended up being a Shining fanfic. No, seriously, I copied half of the story and the rest was taken from horror movies that I liked at that time. And, of course, I couldn't think of anything better than writing about a teenage girl having sex. It goes without saying that this will never see the light of day.

🐶 - My closest friend. Since I was twelve she has known that I like to make up stories.

🐺 - Maybe villains… I'm not really sure. I don't like making heroes perfect; I always add a bit of evil to their actions.

🦊 - You see, in Spanish we have all these spelling rules that go beyond writing a word correctly. You have to add accents: Razón, tentación, etc. After spending months writing, a friend wrote down all the accents I'd missed. Nothing about the story. Now I check what I write up to three times since then. I think that forgetting to hit a key at a certain time is not going to help you create a better story and although grammar is important, it is not the center of everything.

🦝 - It depends, with some I can see a good relationship. The others would get punched in the face.

🐱 - Aside from the accents, make the story clearer. It seems clear enough to me and I don't write for children. Try the brain.

🦁 - I'm not even officially a writer, I don't think I'm better than anyone.

🐴 - ¿Por qué no los dos?

🐷 - Well I like horror stories and I could make a list. In one of my first short stories, the villain attacks the protagonists with an arm he just ripped off a corpse. In another, the protagonist's chest is opened and her blood serves to fill a blank canvas, which the villain uses to draw the scene.

🦄 - Depends on context. If strong magic means being able to destroy the world by snapping your fingers, that might seem a bit exaggerated to me. I guess I prefer softer, more focused on what is possible.

🐭 - I'm an orphan, but my parents knew I loved writing, and my mother even read one of my short stories before she passed away.

🦔 - I have tried, although I prefer to create my characters and my world, I have touched other artists' works. Not AO3 type, more like an update of classic works.

🐥 - Well, the first novel that I mentioned before was when I was 14, although I was already writing nonsense before… About 12 or 13 years old? I think I started taking it seriously around 18, although I have never finished anything I started. Up to now.

🐸 - When I can. I live alone, and although I'm currently unemployed, I have places to go. I also need peace of mind, which is sometimes difficult to get where I live.

🦀 - Do I like torturing beings that don't exist? My characters may go through tough situations, but it is part of the story not for my pleasure.

🐞 - Not really. I always write in the same format, with the same font and the same size for the titles. That's more my obsessive nature than anything else.

🪱 - Put the accents. Nah, just kidding. Possibly something I remember Stephen King saying about writing at least one page a day. Not everyone can do it, either because of work or other situations. Basically, don't leave something too long or you'll notice that you've lost track, no matter how many outlines or notes you've created.

🐌 - Again, it depends. If you have a clear story, it shouldn't be too difficult; if not, everything can be made longer. Plus rewriting parts you don't like… A lot of things can either speed up the process or slow it down.

🐠 - Yes, that way I can make the list shorter. It depends on the character. I have been sad to see some of them disappear.

🐬 - Only create stories. Perhaps try to say something at the same time.

WRITER - ASK GAME - ANIMAL

🐵 - What's the weirdest thing you've written and why did you write it?

🐶 - Who knows the most about your writing/stories?

🐺 - Do you prefer crrating heroic characters or villainous characters?

🦊 - What is your dumbest piece of writing advice?

🦝 - Would you get along with your fave original character if there were real?

🐱 - Which piece of writing advice do you always ignore?

🦁 - Are you a better writer than most?

🐴 - Fantasy or Sci-Fi?

🐷 - What's the grossest scene you've ever written?

🦄 - Soft magic or hard magic systems?

🐭 - Does your family know much about your writing?

🦔 - Do you write fanfiction?

🐥 - When did you start writing?

🐸 - What time of day do you write?

🦀 - Do you enjoy torturing your ocs?

🐞 - Do you have any writing lucky charms or superstitions?

🪱 - What is your dumbest piece of writing advice that actually works?

🐌 - Slow or quick writer?

🐠 - Do you enjoy killing characters?

🐬 - What is your goal?

[basketobread]

the way you play Lotus is a level of RP dedication that I simply could never achieve but I’m glad someone’s out there doing it good job

this is exactly what everyone has told me ever DBSJJSNSKS i swear im not as annoying in rp game things with other people but when its solo?? anything can happen. anything.

[xyywrites]

Tips for writing flawed but lovable characters.

Flawed characters are the ones we root for, cry over, and remember long after the story ends. But creating a character who’s both imperfect and likable can feel like a tightrope walk. 

1. Flaws That Stem From Their Strengths

When a character’s greatest strength is also their Achilles' heel, it creates depth.

Strength: Fiercely loyal.

Flaw: Blind to betrayal or willing to go to dangerous extremes for loved ones.

“She’d burn the whole world down to save her sister—even if it killed her.”

2. Let Their Flaws Cause Problems

Flaws should have consequences—messy, believable ones.

Flaw: Impatience.

Result: They rush into action, ruining carefully laid plans.

“I thought I could handle it myself,” he muttered, staring at the smoking wreckage. “Guess not.”

3. Show Self-Awareness—or Lack Thereof

Characters who know they’re flawed (but struggle to change) are relatable. Characters who don’t realize their flaws can create dramatic tension.

A self-aware flaw: “I know I talk too much. It’s just… silence makes me feel like I’m disappearing.” A blind spot: “What do you mean I always have to be right? I’m just better at solving problems than most people!”

4. Give Them Redeeming Traits

A mix of good and bad keeps characters balanced.

Flaw: They’re manipulative.

Redeeming Trait: They use it to protect vulnerable people.

“Yes, I lied to get him to trust me. But he would’ve died otherwise.”

Readers are more forgiving of flaws when they see the bigger picture.

5. Let Them Grow—But Slowly

Instant redemption feels cheap. Characters should stumble, fail, and backslide before they change.

Early in the story: “I don’t need anyone. I’ve got this.”

Midpoint: “Okay, fine. Maybe I could use some help. But don’t get used to it.”

End: “Thank you. For everything.”

The gradual arc makes their growth feel earned.

6. Make Them Relatable, Not Perfect

Readers connect with characters who feel human—messy emotions, bad decisions, and all.

A bad decision: Skipping their best friend’s wedding because they’re jealous of their happiness.

A messy emotion: Feeling guilty afterward but doubling down to justify their actions.

A vulnerable moment: Finally apologizing, unsure if they’ll be forgiven.

7. Use Humor as a Balancing Act

Humor softens even the most prickly characters.

Flaw: Cynicism.

Humorous side: Making snarky, self-deprecating remarks that reveal their softer side.

“Love? No thanks. I’m allergic to heartbreak—and flowers.”

8. Avoid Overdoing the Flaws

Too many flaws can make a character feel unlikable or overburdened.

Instead of: A character who’s selfish, cruel, cowardly, and rude.

Try: A character who’s selfish but occasionally shows surprising generosity.

“Don’t tell anyone I helped you. I have a reputation to maintain.”

9. Let Them Be Vulnerable

Vulnerability adds layers and makes flaws understandable.

Flaw: They’re cold and distant.

Vulnerability: They’ve been hurt before and are terrified of getting close to anyone again.

��It’s easier this way. If I don’t care about you, then you can’t leave me.”

10. Make Their Flaws Integral to the Plot

When flaws directly impact the story, they feel purposeful rather than tacked on.

Flaw: Their arrogance alienates the people they need.

Plot Impact: When their plan fails, they’re left scrambling because no one will help them.

Flawed but lovable characters are the backbone of compelling stories. They remind us that imperfection is human—and that growth is possible.

[kitimeq]

ੈ✩‧₊˚we can’t be friends 🤍 xavier 星回 ੈ✩‧₊˚

RE-UPLOAD! The original post didn’t show up in the tags, sorry for the confusion :c

pairing ੈ✩: xavier x reader

summary ੈ✩: you and xavier had been best friends for years, nearly inseparable since the moment you met. But after one slightly drunken night, everything shifted: you became friends with benefits. You told yourself you could handle it, but as time went on, your heart began to ache. You had to end it, for your own sake. You were in love with him, but you couldn't shake the painful truth: you believed he’d never feel the same. Still, what if, all this time, while you were trying to push him away, he was quietly hoping to show you how perfect you two were together?

word count ੈ✩: 12k. omg. it’s LONG, long. grab some snacks and let me entertain you for a while!!

tropes ੈ✩: 18+, smut, best friends with benefits, miscommunication, unrequited love, not really tho, angst, angst with happy ending, plot with porn, love confessions, needy xavier, obsessed xavier, domestic xavier, i suck at giving tropes i swear i will get better someday, desperate xavier, everything is consensual, the consumption of alcohol mentioned, pet names, xavier was once in love with mc but the myths are not canon in this one!!

author’s note ੈ✩: GUYS this one’s IT. This idea was blooming slowly in my mind for quite some time. I really hope you’ll like it 🥹 also, please be gentle with me, i’m not a native speaker of english and I’m definitely not a writer. I like to think that everything i create is just fueled by my passionate delulu. please let me know if you liked it and if maybe you’d like to read part 2!! ♡ enjoy your reading!!

!!do NOT read if you’re not 18+!!

ੈ✩‧₊˚ 

It all started with the simplest of touches.

Your hands grazed, as if by accident. Then your eyes met. He grabbed you by your forearm, or maybe you grabbed him, everything was so blurry in your mind. A touch on a waist, a hand on a chest, and a sudden clash of your lips. You saw fireworks exploding in your mind, sending pleasant thrumming throughout your whole body.

Desperate touches. Rapid breaths. A whisper, maybe two. He said something. What did he say? The sound of your heart was the only thing you could hear.

Your dress came off. You felt lips. Lips marking every part of your body, leaving behind wet paths that made the exposed skin shiver due to the coolness of the air. He went down. Down. Down, and looked at you expectantly. Your head never nodded that quickly and it probably never will again. You saw stars. Millions and millions of them, shimmering under your closed eyelids. He grabbed your hand and put it into his hair. You caressed it gently, savoring the softness of it.

Then, you saw his eyes. Beautiful, deep blues that looked far too innocent for what he did and what he was about to do with you next. He kissed you again and again, and again, and he held you close throughout the whole night, making you shiver, moan, cry, beg — until you fell asleep from exhaustion right in the safety of his arms. He turned your world upside down.

And then came the next morning, when you began to question the entire ordeal. You panicked, thinking about your friendship that you valued the most and Xavier, whom you just couldn’t bear to lose. However, when you wanted to put it past you, to blame the alcohol consumed that night, act as if it was just a slip of your judgment, a mistake, a reaction caused by the need of intimacy after being single for a long time, he wasn’t having it. He said that he couldn’t forget about it, that it changed things, and you blurted out the first thing that came into your mind. You proposed the whole arrangement.

And that’s how, after several months, your relationship with Xavier stayed clear and technically uncomplicated. Friends with benefits. You thought that even if that night did change things, then in this way you could act as if it wasn’t a big deal to you. In this way, you wouldn’t have to lose him, wouldn’t make things awkward. You still acted normally in front of each other, you continued to spend time in almost the same way you were before that faithful night, but with one drastic change.

Almost every encounter since that night ended with you in his bed or the other way around. Hours and hours spent in each other’s embrace, touching and feeling too much, all at once.

And said feelings were what made you finally decide that you couldn’t do this anymore. You couldn’t continue sharing with him this intimacy, pretending that everything between you remained unchanged. You couldn’t do this anymore, knowing that it was all that you’ll ever get from him, despite being in love with him for so long.

You knew that he would never reciprocate your feelings. You knew that from the beginning, from the very first touch of your fingertips that night, but you foolishly thought that having him close for as long as he wanted you, would be enough for you. Even if he wanted you only for your body, because you were the easiest choice.

However, your heart was breaking every time you were reminded of one significant fact, a harsh reality that felt like a bucket of cold water in your face.

He will never love you. Because you were not her.

And you will never be.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

You already had a strategy to end the arrangement. You wanted to take it slow, step by step, with just a bit of pain on your side. You knew it wasn't your best plan, but it was a plan nonetheless. You wanted to end the friends-with-benefits arrangement in a way that would make you both slowly, almost naturally, drift apart—so subtly that he wouldn't even notice the change. As for you, you were ready to bear the painful consequences of your actions, if it saved you from the excruciating pain of a broken heart later.

You started with avoiding his kisses.

And it turned out to be a tough job to do, because you didn’t realize before how much of a kisser Xavier became during your friends-with-benefits situation. It never really bothered you before, you always accepted every single kiss with content. However, during your last meeting, you were trying so hard to avoid his lips, and noticed that he made it into an almost impossible task.

When you went out one night, he wanted to kiss you three times during hot pot, even though you were sitting across from each other. You thought that the sitting situation was enough of an obstacle, but you quickly learned that he always somehow managed to find a chance to try to steal a kiss. That not only bewildered you, but also made you blush so hard that you had to blame the spicy food for it to not look suspicious. Yet, you managed to stay your ground and ignored his needy attempts at capturing your lips.

You also avoided his lips while you were later watching a movie in his apartment, by pretending that you didn’t see or feel his constant gaze on you. You thought that maybe if he saw that the movie engaged you so much, he would finally drop the attempts. Unfortunately, your plan failed the moment his patience thinned, when he started kissing your neck while cradling your body to his. He was grabbing at you almost desperately and you really couldn’t escape from every single kiss he was giving you, no matter how much you tried to. And you really tried to.

“Why—why are you turning your face away? A-Ah… Let me look at y-you—mmm.” He said between his moans, and he never once stopped thrusting inside you. It was the day when he took you on a sofa between his soft, plushy pillows with the movie still playing in the background. Your legs were laying on his shoulder, his both hands holding onto them tightly while his hips thrust deep inside you, making you gasp in pleasure. When you didn’t respond and kept your head away, hoping that he would finally stop with his relentless kisses, his hand gently grabbed your face and turned it towards his so that your eyes met. He smiled softly, his cheeks pink and face damp. “Yes, there you are. You feel good? You wanna break?” He almost slurred and you adored how quickly he was loosing himself with you, how much he was losing his composure. When you squeezed your eyes, moaning at a harder thrust and shook your head no, he whimpered. Next thing you knew, he lowered your legs onto the sofa and lay between them, bringing his body closer to yours. Your chests touched and you could feel his rapid heartbeat, mirroring the rhythm of your own. He nudged your head, which was still turned to the side, with his nose.

“Give me a kiss, c’mon, starlight.” He kissed your cheek, slowing down his thrusts to a lazy, delicate ones. “I couldn’t get a kiss all day, I need it. Let me.” And when you saw his eyes, full of desperation and something that reminded you of adoration, you couldn’t keep denying him. Your lips touched his and he didn’t let go of them until you came, and later when he began growling straight into your mouth, chasing his own undoing.

It was the last time you met up, and after that you decided that you had to cut it off completely. You couldn’t continue being with him like this, not when you knew that he already loved someone else. Being with him this close messed with your head. You didn’t want to feel like a convenient second choice and you couldn’t help but feel that your meetings were slowly becoming more and more intimate. You had to constantly remind yourself that you weren’t together. You made sure to label the change in your relationship properly at the start of the arrangement — still on friendly terms, with occasional mutual pleasure. But the close proximity and constant intimacy started to make the lines blurry in your mind.

And your heart couldn’t take it anymore, it hurt every time you reminded yourself that he didn’t reciprocate your feelings, and that he never will.

After that movie night you decided that the next step to your goal would be to stop engaging in small talk with him, especially the one that occurred at work.

You worked together at the Hunter’s Association, he was one of the best Hunters out there, and you specialized in weapon modification from the safety of your own desk. You wanted to be a hunter once, but with your Evol involving micromodification you guessed that you could be needed in a position that involved working with weaponry. After working there for years, you were passionate about your work and elated to have a job you loved and where you thrived while helping others to the best of your abilities.

Thus, because of the shared place of employment, you saw Xavier almost every day. He was often near your desk, passing by it, putting snacks before you or teasing you with that soft smile of his. So, cutting the contact out there was one of the toughest jobs for you, but it had to be done.

When you knew that he would be free, you found a task that needed completion in other departments, so that you will not cross paths. Often, instead of others coming to you to fix their weapons, you proposed to make the trip instead. In this way you were always quick on your feet, going from department to department, back to the workshop and again to the others’ desks. You didn’t mind the extra activity, it made you think less about your breaking heart.

And when Xavier managed to catch you from time to time, because he always somehow would, you were trying to appear too busy even for a small conversation.

“Where are you rushing off to again? I didn’t manage to talk to you these past few days.” He said one day when he caught you by your elbow while you were going out of the bathroom. He must’ve seen you go in there and wait for you to come out. He brought you a little closer to himself and looked at your face so intently, that you got scared he could see right through you.

“Sorry Xai, I’m just really busy lately.” You answered, maybe too quickly, and were trying to calm your beating heart upon seeing him so close again. Too close. It didn’t help that he was in his hunter’s uniform, that made him look twice as dreamy. You were so close that you could also smell his comforting scent and see the small scar on his cheek that he got last year after you two tried ice skating for the first time.

The first and the last, for it appeared that you were much better at it than he would ever be, and you wanted to avoid him getting hurt again. It was also before your friends-with-benefits situation, when your friendship was pure and healthy. Your heart squeezed remembering how he grabbed your hand then, and how tightly he used to hold it throughout the whole activity.

“Xavier, are you sure you don’t want to go back home already? I’m afraid that your cut will scar if we leave it like that.” You said, looking at the band aid on his cheek, the only remedy for his small injury that you could provide at that time.

He squeezed your hand and still appeared sheepish after his fall. You secretly found him adorable, you never saw him doing something in which he didn’t excel in. It was as if he let you see a part of himself that no one had ever seen before. That thought made your chest warmer.

“No. I won’t let the ice defeat me.” He said surely and you knew that he won’t give up, even if his legs already visibly trembled from exhaustion. You let out a sigh. “Besides, you’re holding my hand now, so I feel much safer.” He looked at you, his voice soft and cheeks red, most likely from the cold air. Seeing him in such a vulnerable state made you completely overcome by the feeling of tenderness, and you send him a huge smile, thinking that it was the first time he relied on your protection, and not the other way around.

Little did you know that this smile would catch him by surprise so much that he slipped backwards, this time pulling you down with him. However, your reflexes slightly worked, because you managed to put your hand behind his head, shielding it from the impact with ice. You landed on him with a groan as his hands moved to pull your body closer.

“Oh god, Xai, are you okay? How did that happen?” You asked him, trying to lift yourself off of him. You felt him relax his head further into your hand, and when you raised yourself enough to face him directly, he sent you a wide smile, his eyes crinkling at the corners. This sight made your heart melt.

“See, I knew you would protect me.” He replied, clearly referring to your hand behind his head. “My little savior.” He called you, and when you puffed the air out, annoyed that he could have hurt himself for real this time, his smile turned into a full laugh, his body shaking under yours. He looked so angelic, covered in snow, laughing in a way that was so scarce that you couldn’t help but join him in his moment of happiness.

And thanks to your mittens, your hand was left with only a purple bruise from the impact. Still, Xavier couldn’t let you forget about it up to the day it disappeared completely, expressing guilt for the minor injury, his sight chasing your hand every time it appeared in his line of vision. He often caressed it softly with his fingers, looking at it with a mysteriously thoughtful expression, whispering “My little savior.” under his breath. It made you wish that the bruise would never disappear.

You took a step back, suddenly overwhelmed by the memories and the closeness between you. He always invaded your personal space, stood so close that you could almost feel his breath on your face. This time, you had had to cut it out for your own good.

“S’okay. You’re always busy but I guess I just got used to meeting you near your desk. Just text me after work? Maybe we could meet up for our book club today.” He said and you swallowed the awful feeling of longing in your chest. Book club was the term you came up with when you both just wanted to sit and read together for hours. Unfortunately, you knew how book club sessions looked like since the beginning of your friends-with-benefits arrangement.

You were sitting together in silence, reading for hours, then talked about your books until you both lost your breaths. A wonderful experience, you adored your little reading sessions, but you knew that recently they always ended with his lips on yours, and with your clothes scattered around his bedroom.

You couldn’t let this go on forever. You couldn’t go back to being just friends now, and you couldn’t keep him so close, knowing that he will never fully be yours. You pitied your poor heart.

“Sure, will do. See you around!” You were aware how awkward you sounded, but before he could stop you, you were already off to another task of the day.

You didn’t text him after work, and neither did you reply to his message in time. The next day you send him an excuse that you were tired and fell asleep quickly, and you hoped that he believed it or didn’t care enough to question you further.

If the distance hurt you this bad now, you couldn’t even imagine how would it feel when he eventually would’ve left you for her.

ੈ✩‧₊˚

The next stage of your plan involved not answering his texts at all. You allowed yourself small replies from time to time, most often very brief, if the situation called for it. Replying excuses from left to right. Then, you incorporated not picking up his calls, especially on weekends, when he appeared to want to see you the most, because you were absent from the Association building and he couldn’t catch even a glimpse of you.

The distance you yourself put between you broke your heart, and you were getting more and more depressed by the day. Ignoring the person you loved wasn’t easy, when he was the one with whom you wanted to spend your time the most.

To distract yourself from the situation, you were trying to pass your time differently. You were meeting up with your family and friends, or you started doing things that you were putting off for ages. Everything and anything to fill the void in your heart caused by the absence of the one you loved. The absence forced by you.

It had to be done, you reminded yourself daily. You had to end this somehow, no matter how it hurt you. You had to move on. You couldn’t still be in love with him the day he would end up with MC. You knew it would ruin you.

Three weeks passed since your last meeting at the Association and you could feel that Xavier was getting impatient. His calls were more frequent. His messages longer. Sometimes while running away from him at work, you could catch how he was scanning the room in search of you. How frustrated he seemed to be. How upset.

You understood it. You were best friends after all, and he also probably needed someone near him to help him get his head clear of MC. You knew that it must’ve been hard for him. But you were sure you were doing the right thing, that’s why you kept avoiding him during the past month, and not only it was the longest period you’ve been away from each other since the start of your complicated arrangement, but also the longest time since the start of your friendship. Even when the times were rough, you managed to see each other at least once or twice a week.

You felt the pain of the distance too. Missing him almost every second of the day. But you had your reasons. You didn’t want to try to satiate the hunger he felt for another woman anymore.

So every time his name appeared on your phone screen, along with the picture of him shoving two muffins into his mouth at the same time, you closed your eyes, took a deep breath, and waited out the signal, simultaneously praying for and dreading the silence.

ੈ✩‧₊˚

On a quiet rainy day, after a month of ignoring almost every attempt to make contact from Xavier, you heard your phone ping thrice. You sighed and put the book you were reading down, deciding that it was a good moment to reply something short to him in order to slightly ease his worries, and make him feel less alarmed. You wanted distance, but you still sticked to responding from time to time, to appear casual. To let the connection break off less abruptly.

xavier: why cant I see U at all recently.

xavier: why are U not picking up my calls and not replying to my texts.

xavier: are U hiding from me?

you: Of course not, just busy.

xavier: busy for me but not busy for others I know U are going out all the time.

xavier: are U mad at me? did I do something wrong.

you: No, you didn’t, don’t worry. It’s just me. I have a lot of things on my mind recently.

xavier: could U please have me on Ur mind too? I miss U.

xavier: so bad it hurts

You let out a rugged breath, and decided to stop responding, but then another text came. This time, making your blood run cold.

xavier: going back from a rough mission right now i think i need help.

you: Oh my god, are you okay? Are you injured?

xavier: cant tell U why dont you come and see me for Urself.

you: Fine, I need to see if you’re okay. Do you need anything? Food? Medicine? I will pick something up on my way there.

xavier: i just need U

You closed your eyes and hid your face in your palms, then swore it would be the last time. You will go in, treat his wounds and go out. It had to be the last time you allowed yourself to be this close to him, and then you had to cut him off completely. A month wasn’t enough to heal your broken heart, and these small sightings won’t make your heart feel any less burdened.

It had to end today.

ੈ✩‧₊˚

When the door opened, he managed to take your breath away once more.

First, only figuratively. His beauty always managed to amaze you. He looked so handsome no matter the circumstances, his hair so fluffy and shiny, his face like that of an angel, with sharp jawline and soft, pink lips almost screaming at you to be kissed. When you met his eyes, you almost gasped at the intensity of his deep blue gaze. There wasn’t a thing about him you didn’t miss terribly after so much time apart.

Then, literally, when the first thing he did was grabbing your hand and hugging you tightly to his chest, that was still clothed in his hunter uniform. He pressed his face into the crown of your hair and touched the nape of your neck, holding it gently with his cold hand.

“Was the mission that difficult?” You asked, thinking that his reaction to you was mostly due to his need for someone else’s closeness. The need for security. “Were you in danger?” You asked quietly, fear bubbling in your mind.

“No. I lied.” He murmured and you felt him squeezing you even harder, inhaling your scent with content. His hand started stroking your back, slowly making its way under your thin coat. “Didn’t know what else to say to make you come see me.” He said and you hoped that he couldn’t hear, nor feel the sound of your erratic heartbeat.

He shouldn’t say things like these, it made you feel too hopeful. You tried to push that feeling down, knowing that’s how he normally acted with you, his best friend. You knew that he didn’t have a lot of people beside him, thus he treasured the ones that stayed. And that thought made you so incredibly apologetic that you had to swallow the tension in your throat. You hated that you fell for him so hard. You hated that you had to leave him because of it. You hated that you knew, that he would blame himself when you’ll leave.

And you started to hate yourself the most because of all of it.

“Did you miss me that much?” You teased, trying to calm yourself with a friendly banter.

“Yes.” The answer was immediate. The kiss he placed on your temple as natural as breathing. “Everything and everyone seems to be taking you away from me these days.” He said and you could hear him sulking. Your heart squeezed again, but you knew that you were doing the right thing. The distance was necessary.

Necessary for you to avoid breaking. You had to protect yourself first, you decided. You couldn’t remain in love with him forever. You had to move on and in order to do that you had to keep the distance. Which was impossible with him around, when he craved physical touch so badly.

You started to be so mad at yourself for breaking your streak today. You didn’t realize how touchy he will be after some time apart and it was getting to your head. You were so conflicted. You felt too much, and that was always the case when you were around him.

He was in love with someone else. Your head was screaming loudly, trying to calm the wave of unwanted emotions.

“I’m sorry.” You whispered. I love you, you thought. “But now I’m here, so maybe I can inspect you for any injuries? You always seem to neglect them as long as they don’t make you bleed out.” You managed to free yourself from his hold and missed how his hands went after you for a second. He didn’t want you to put distance between you two. Not yet, not ever.

He looked into your beautiful, shiny eyes and nodded without a thought. He couldn’t say no to you, not when he saw the still remaining hint of worry in them. Besides, checking for injuries always came with physical contact, and he was so starved. He needed to feel your body close to his. Your hands on him, somewhere, anywhere, everywhere. He felt addicted and craved some kind of relief. He looked after you like a lost puppy, following your footsteps closely, touching the familiar material of your coat that you left on a counter. The distance this past month made him feral, every part of his body screamed to hold you and don’t let go.

You sat down on his couch, and patted the place next to you, hinting at him to sit beside you. He was trying not to appear too eager while doing so, and also when he started taking off the upper part of his uniform. He was almost shaking with excitement knowing that you really came to see him. That you were worried about him. The distance was making him sick. Furious. Desperate. Hurt.

He suppressed a shudder when you touched his shoulder and peeled away the material off his back completely. Your hands were pleasantly warm, as always. He bit his lip trying not to gasp from the contact.

He needed more.

“Xavier.” He hummed, giddy inside upon finally hearing his name from your lips. He was bracing for your outburst. Couldn’t wait for it. “You said you lied about the mission being hard, while having a fucking gash on your back? I-I can’t believe you...” He heard your angry, shaky voice and smirked unintentionally. You were worried about him and he liked that. He liked the attention, when it was coming from you.

Yet, you didn’t know that.

You cursed under your breath and went to grab the first aid kit from one of his drawers, and proceeded to patch the man back up, having no idea that he allowed the Wanderer to injure him, to have an excuse to see you. To keep you with him for a minute longer, even if it was only under the pretense of tending to his injuries. He was ready to do anything at this point to keep you from slipping away from his grasp.

If you knew that, you wouldn’t be so adamant on distancing yourself.

But because you didn’t know, you also didn’t predict that after patching him up, he would propose you to eat dinner with him, making up an excuse that he didn’t want to be alone with his pain. Later, when you wanted to come back to your place, he mentioned he wanted to play kitty cards, the game you adored. You couldn’t refuse him.

During the next hours you spent at his place you both talked in the same way you always used to - about everything and anything, exchanging opinions, stories and everyday thoughts. You laughed together for the first time in weeks, and your cheeks hurt from how much he was able to make you smile. You always had so much fun with him; he was your favorite person in the whole world. You missed him so bad, despite knowing that you couldn’t back out from your plan fully. Yet, you allowed yourself a little break, telling yourself that it was in order for your distancing to not look suspicious. In addition, he was injured, and you felt the need to comfort him in any way you could. The gash on his back wasn’t that deep, but it worried you regardless.

The atmosphere changed drastically only when he managed to win the next round of kitty cards. You jokingly frowned at him, forging displeasure, and he looked directly at your pouting lips. The time seemed to stop when you noticed that look. He raised his hand to touch your collarbone, caressing it with his fingers, up to your neck and over your cheek. He looked deeply into your eyes, and you noticed how dark his became. You found it fascinating that his soft gaze could change so drastically in a matter of seconds.

His hand reached out to grab your chin and brought your face closer to his. And when he whispered: “Could I ask for a reward?” with that dangerous, needy voice of his, you knew that you couldn’t deny him anything.

When your lips touched, you decided that it will be the last time you let it happen. It would be your goodbye, before losing the feel of his touch. You thought that you could at least make the best of it, get lost in the artificial feeling of being treasured for the last time, before you started the last phase of your plan.

After that, you had to cut off the ties with him completely. No matter the measures. No matter the pain.

ੈ✩‧₊˚

“Xavier, m-maybe not today?” You asked when you realized how low he was going with his kisses. You knew what he was about to do, and you hated how much you couldn’t contain the sounds that were coming out of your mouth when he was doing it. Besides, it didn’t feel like a mutual pleasure anymore, it felt like an act of service and you were not sure you wanted him to pleasure only you.

He looked at you, having already dropped to his knees. He looked ruined, his hair already a mess from the touch of your fingers, lips wet and swollen, shirt off displaying his toned chest, bandaged in the center with caution. He was practically heaving. The sight made you blush.

“Why not?” His voice sounded whiny, his lips already kissing the inside of your thigh as if he couldn’t restrain himself. Every kiss sent electricity to your already wet core and you found it hard to think clearly. His hands were grabbing your tights possessively, relishing in their softness. “Please, let me eat you out. I’ll make you feel good, I promise.” The pleading in his eyes was so apparent. So unfiltered.

“Don’t you want to get to the point already?” You offered shyly and he huffed out a laugh.

“Where are you trying to run off to this time?” It sounded like a joke, but he appeared annoyed. “Relax, starlight and let me take care of you. Please.” You still hesitated. It made him pout. “I need it, please, star. I want to taste you so bad. I didn’t manage to last time.” He kissed your knee and put his head on it, looking for the answer in your unsure eyes. “Will you let me?” His pleading tone, along with his desperate gaze was what made you break. You whispered a soft confirmation and it was all it took before he quickly put his mouth on your core, licking vigorously, devouring you like the most delicious thing on the planet.

“Mmmm.” You heard him humming, before your own cries, along with the constant tremble of your legs, drowned out any other sound.

He was elated.

ੈ✩‧₊˚

“Mmmh— Yes. Yes. H—holy—” He whimpered at the same time with his thrusts and squeezed your waist harder, moving his hands up and down your back, caressing it affectionately. “You are s-so warm, so beautiful, fuck—” He moaned when you tightened on him. You stiffed a whimper and tried to commit to memory the touch of his strong hands.

He was taking you slowly from behind and the pace was almost unbearable for you. You needed more, and you couldn’t stand how romantic it felt when he was this gentle with you. However, at the same time you didn’t want him to strain himself, you were aware that the slow pace was reasonable due to the injury on his back. The slow pace did surprise you either way, you thought that after so much time apart he would be quick and rough, chasing his pleasure faster than he normally would. Instead, he acted even more passionately than usual.

The slow pace brought you so much pleasure that you couldn’t contain the sounds escaping from your lips. He kept pressing your most sensitive spots, his thrusts slow, deep and precise. His forehead rest on the back of your shoulder, and you could feel his hot, labored breath pressing against your damp skin.

He made you feel so appreciated, and so cared for, and that made you uneasy. More so, with the accompaniment of the things he was constantly saying to you, from the moment you allowed him to touch you today.

“Can you turn around now? Please, my star, I want to see you.” He half-whispered and started kissing your neck, then moving his mouth to every patch of your skin he could reach: your shoulders, back, arms. No place was left unkissed under his relentless lips. You shook your head no; you didn’t want to let this become even more passionate than it already was. You positioned yourself facing the headboard of the bed from the very beginning, and you were adamant to keep your stance up until the end. You feared that your eyes would betray you, displaying your feelings for him and that was what made you not lose your composure.

Upon hearing your refusal for the third time this night, he proceeded to voice his frustrations by grunting, and thrust into you a little harder. You moaned loudly, surprised at the sudden change of tempo.

“Please, starlight.” He begged; his voice achingly earnest. He picked up the pace and you almost choked with how deep he reached inside of you now. You thought that you could never get used to how big he was, his girth filling you up to the brim. “Turn around. T-turn around for me.”

“X-xavier slow down, I don’t want you to get hurt—” You managed to choke out, grasping sheets with your hands for some kind of stability. You closed your eyes when they were turning upwards, biting your lip in the process. He felt otherworldly, but you couldn’t help but think about the gash on his back. He shouldn’t strain himself.

“Then turn around and look at me.” He repeated and you shook your head again.

“I-I can’t, I—Ah—”

“W-why do you keep—Mmh—denying me?” His voice came out like a growl and he kept up the fast tempo. Then, he grabbed your shoulder and put his other hand on your lower back, making you bend over more. His thrusts got even faster, making you moan louder. “Like that. Yes.” You breathed quietly. So good. He was so, so good. “I just want to see your face. I need to kiss y—A—Ah—Kiss you so bad, so, so, so bad.” He thrust more deeply, making you involuntarily back out from the stimulation, your body almost collapsing, but he quickly grabbed you with his strong arms, and brought you even closer to him. You saw stars and touched one of the arms that held your whole body — from your waist, between your breasts, to your neck. His arm was so hard, so strong. He was huge compared to you. “No, n-no, don’t run away, star. You feel so good—G-God how I missed this—” He held you closer by the second, pressing more kisses to your shoulders, his thrusts becoming quicker, less deep. You were holding back your tears from how good he felt inside you. “I missed you. I missed you. I miss you.” He started babbling and that’s how you knew he was close.

To your surprise, he suddenly pulled out of you completely and grabbed you by your shoulders, turning you around to finally face him. Before you could show any signs of protest, he lowered himself onto his forearms, caging your head between his biceps so that he could have a perfect view of your face. He took his cock in one of his hands and he slipped himself into you again with ease. You shuddered and cried out softly with astonishment.

“Xavier—!”

“Yes. Yes, that’s my name.” He started thrusting into you again, this time much slower and more attentive, and looked deep into your eyes. You had nowhere to run, the only thing you could do was to close your eyes, but the sight of him so close made you want to never look away. “Say it one more time. Just once.” He looked ethereal, his silver hair wet from the perspiration that gathered on his forehead, and his cheeks painted a pretty shade of red. You could see how blissful he felt. “So p-pretty.” He finally kissed your lips softly. “So sweet.” He licked into your mouth, deepening the kiss. It made your toes curl, you loved when he kissed you this sloppily. When he released your already swollen lips, there was a string of saliva connecting you. It was all so intense.

“Why were you denying my kisses?” He kissed you again deeply, sucking on your tongue. His slow thrusts made you go insane. “You don’t like kissing me like this?” He sucked on your lips until they were red and swollen. There was so much saliva. He licked them and kissed them again. “I could come from this feeling alone. So soft.” You were shocked at how much he talked. Was he always this talkative? Or were you realizing it only now, when you knew that the closeness with him would soon come to an end?

“Am I making you feel good? Yeah?” You decided to nod at him truthfully, your moans short, resembling small hiccups. You were lost in the pleasure; you could feel the end approaching. He put his forehead against yours, breathing heavily. “W—wow, you—you sound so adorable, I won’t last long—” He moaned and grabbed your face in his hands, kissing your nose first, then softly your lips.

“Yes, yeah, let go. Let go my little star. My starlight, my treasure.” He whispered into your ear, feeling you clench down on him as you came with his name on your lips. You felt him reaching the end quickly after you, he shuddered, his mouth opened, and he released into the condom with a low moan. Still cumming, he took your face into his hands and kissed your forehead gently. When you both were still coming down from the high, breathing heavily, he began stroking your hair, pushing it out of your face, and kissing your cheeks.

What in the world was all that?

God, you couldn’t do this anymore. You couldn’t let this keep up, it felt too real, too romantic, and your heart really couldn’t take it. Not when every time you were together like this you keep thinking that he would like you to be someone else instead. Did he imagine her under him this time? You trembled, scared because of that thought, but the things he was saying made you feel that it really could be the case.

Your breath came out shakily and you took his muscular forearms in your palms and grazed them gently with your thumbs. You let yourself feel for the last time how warm his body was, how pleasurable his weight on top of you. You kept your eyes closed to not let him see your tears, but you couldn’t stop one from going down your cheek.

And of course, he saw it as soon as it appeared. He seemed to always look at you when you wanted him to ignore you the most.

He kissed it off, swiped the wetness with his thumb and proceeded to kiss your temple.

“Why are you crying?” He asked softly, his eyebrows furrowed. “Did I hurt you?” He appeared so concerned, and you felt the shivers going down your spine.

Yes, you wanted to scream.

“No, of course not.” You said instead. Because it was your fault for feeling too much. “I’m okay, just tired.” You lied straight to his face. He sent you a small smile and kissed your closed eyelids gently.

And when he shifted and pulled out from you slowly with a little hiss, you let out a sigh and knew that your time with him had to end now.

But before you could lift yourself up, he hugged you from the side and put his head on your chest. He was listening to the sound of your heartbeat, and you already knew that it had a soothing effect on him. His hand started caressing one side of your waist, his hair touching your chin, his scent overlapping you. You could feel his heartbeat on you, fast but steady. Another tear escaped from your eyes. You had to run away. You couldn’t take the closeness anymore. It was too painful.

“Xavier, I—” You swallowed the sob forming in your throat. Your voice came out rusty. “I really need to go.”

“Already? Stay with me for a little while longer.” He squeezed you harder to himself, showing no intention of releasing you from his hold. You hated that you needed to cut short such a vulnerable moment with him. “The night is still young. I thought we could maybe watch something together? Or bake these cinnamon cookies you like? I practiced, they taste and look almost perfect now.” You closed your eyes hard, moved by his thoughtfulness, and you almost sobbed audibly if it wasn’t for your hand quickly covering your mouth.

But he felt it, and it made all the muscles in his body tighten, as if he was struck.

“Star?” He loosened his hold on you and quickly studied your face. “What’s wrong?” His eyes became huge, filled with worry. And that concern on his features was what finally made you run.

You raised gently and pushed yourself from him, starting to pick up your scattered pieces of clothing. Your hands shakily put the panties and your sweater on your trembling body, not once looking Xavier’s way. He was waiting patiently for your answer.

“I can’t do this anymore, Xavier.” You replied, feeling more comfortable now that you had some clothes on. You couldn’t meet his eyes, but you heard him standing up from the bed.

“Do what?” He sounded puzzled. You heard him grabbing and putting on some pants hastily, clicking his belt in place. As if he was preparing to run after you. “Did I do something wrong? You didn’t like it today? Was I too intense?” You had never heard him speak so quickly, and the panic in his tone was a rare occurrence too.

“No, it’s— I am at fault here.” You answered truthfully, and you took a couple steps away from him. You wanted to run as fast as you could but for the love of God, you couldn’t locate any other pieces of your clothing. Your eyesight was clouded by unleashed tears. No, not now, you couldn’t let them fall until you were in the safety of your home.

“But you were perfect.” His voice carried more panic by the second. “We could change some things. You could tell me what to do differently, everything works with me as long as I do it with you.”

You suddenly remembered the beginning of your night, and rushed to his living room, were you finally found your pants.

“No. No, and please stop trying to persuade me. This—this friends with benefits thing, it ends now.” You uttered surely, now fully clothed. You turned around and finally laid your eyes on him, and saw him wearing only black jeans and a miserable expression on his face. God, he still looked perfect. He almost shined, the workout clearly visible on his face, his hair, his lips. Your resolution almost wavered.

“Okay. Okay, of course, I—I understand.” He answered quickly, and you felt a slight pang in your chest at how easily he took the news. This whole time you were so easily disposable. “But please stay. I want to spend some time with you, I haven’t seen you in such a long time.” He took a careful step towards you, and you wanted to bolt then and there. “Please, stay.”

“No, Xai, I—” You paused to take a breath, trying not to crumble in front of him. His worried expression felt like a knife to your chest. You were his best friend, yet here you were, clearly wanting to run away from him—how could you expect him to feel anything but hurt upon such a sight? You felt incredibly cruel. “I really can’t. I think I need a break from all—all of this.”

“You mean from me?” He didn’t wait for your answer, the thoughts in his head seemed to go quicker than lightning. “No, please, I swear that if you don’t like it then I won’t touch you anymore. I swear.” You hated how upset he sounded. You closed your eyes for a second and fresh tears slipped away. You couldn’t keep them from falling anymore. “You know how much you mean to me. Don’t make me stay away.” He looked as if you were tearing his heart out, his posture slumped, hands shaking. How you wished you could take them into your own and warm them up.

“I have to.” Your voice came out whiny. He stepped closer to you, keeping his arms in front of himself.

“But why?” His question was quiet, nearly a whisper. He couldn’t help but wonder, if you really wanted a break from him, then why were you crying as if you didn’t want to go?

“I—” You stopped yourself before going as far as to utter a confession. He couldn’t know. Not now. Not ever. “This— This situation, and how our friendship looks like right now it’s—it’s so wrong.” You opted for a response that was the closest to the truth.

“It’s not.” He replied immediately. “Not for me.”

“Well it is for me. Friends don’t sleep with each other, Xavier! We messed up so bad this time and I’m afraid we can’t let this past us.”

“Do you regret it that much?” His voice was losing its’ strength, and he seemed so utterly hurt. Meanwhile, you were just trying to protect yourself from feeling even more pain. How could you make him understand without confessing to him? You didn’t really know because you were always honest with him before. He was your safe place.

And to think that everything could be avoided, your friendship left unscratched if only you could control your feelings better. But you had no idea how to stop loving him so deeply, when he was everything that you’ve ever dreamed of.

“I should. I know that I should, it was never going to end well, I—”

“Stay. Please, starlight, stay. At least for one more night, let me hold you just for one more—” His arms went out to grab you and you flinched, taking a few steps back. His jaw tightened.

He was always afraid that he will see you run away from his touch. He felt as if his nightmare became reality - the thought of losing you too much for him to bear.

“Xavier, I can’t!” You trembled all over. Why did he make this so hard for you? “I can’t do this with you anymore, can’t you understand how much it hurts me?” The truth was at the tip of your tongue, craving to be spoken out loud.

“Why? Why does it hurt you? The only one who has a good reason to be hurt is me, you avoided me, ignored me, and for what? If you just talked to me honestly one time—”

“You are in love with someone else!”

The silence that followed was unbearable and seemed to last ages. Slow ticking of the clock was the only thing cutting through the tension, reminding you that the time didn’t stop, even if your heart seemed to do so.

You turned to him, the tears falling from your eyes in cascades now and your chest was coming up and down rapidly with how fast you were breathing.

The tears run down your cheeks quickly, making your vision less blurry. How you wished that they stayed in place, if that meant that you wouldn’t have to see Xavier’s pained expression, that quickly changed into one of utter confusion. You were shaking with how much you were feeling, your frustration pooling out of you in a form of shaking hands and bitten lips.

“I can’t continue being like this with you when I know that you’re in love with her! And I get it! I really do. She’s so wonderful, and so, so lovable. And I could never be her, no matter how much you would want me to be. I just don’t want to be a replacement anymore.” You continued, the desperation in your voice almost making you wince. You sounded pathetic and felt so embarrassed for it. You felt as if you were losing the ground beneath your feet.

“What?” He said completely stunned. He wasn’t moving a single muscle. “What on earth are you talking about?” He hissed, and took a step towards you, and when you shook your head and wanted to bolt through the door, he quickly grabbed you by your wrist and pressed your body close to his. You gasped at the contact, so sudden and forced. “No, stop running away from me!” He raised his voice, still holding your wrist tightly. You’ve never heard him sound so irritated. “Speak.” You kept your head low, when he was desperately trying to catch eye contact, but you couldn’t look at him right now. Not when your true feelings were basically flowing to the surface.

“About what? You really thought I didn’t know about your feelings for her?” You struggled to keep your voice from shaking. “Xavier, I know, and I knew from the very beginning, and you really don’t have to explain yourself to me. I really understand.” You tried to free your wrist from his grasp, but he held it too tightly. You needed to run, this conversation wasn’t supposed to happen, you didn’t even have a reason to be mad at him. You couldn’t blame him for not loving you romantically, nor for feeling this way towards someone else. You were only friends, and friends should be happy for each other when they find someone dear to them, not sick of the idea of losing the other to someone else.

“I’m afraid you actually don’t understand anything.” He sounded almost defeated. His voice back to its soft tone, but his hold on you unrelenting.

“It’s really okay, I—”

“No.” He scoffed. You finally gained enough courage to let your eyes meet his and you were instantly appalled at how furious he appeared to be. “It’s truly NOT.” He released your wrist and put his hands up to stroke his hair back. He breathed out loudly. “Who the fuck are you talking about?” He asked, confusion and irritation taking over his features completely. You never saw him wear that expression while talking with you.

“Oh, don’t make me—” You cut off, seeing his furious glare. You took a deep breath, stepped back from him and touched your cheek, trying to swipe the wetness caused by your tears. You failed, they were still coming down, one by one, making your efforts futile. “MC. You know that I mean MC.”

“You have to be fucking kidding me.” He groaned and let his head fall back. He covered his face with his hands for a second, and when he looked at you again, you couldn’t read his expression correctly. “Who told you about it? Where did you get it from?”

“Jeremiah.” That’s all he needed to know. And apparently it was enough for him to grasp the situation. He laughed humorlessly and shook his head, his hands squeezed tightly into fists by his sides.

“I will strangle him this time. I swear, I will—”

“Oh, please, Xavier, stop! What’s so wrong about me knowing? I was glad that someone finally enlightened me!” You couldn’t believe that he was so angry at you for knowing such an important thing. Not when from the moment Jeremiah said that he had a thing for MC for a long time, you wondered why he kept that a secret from you. “You never even said a word about it even though I thought we were best friends. I had to learn from someone else and that already hurt.” You wanted this conversation to be over. You wanted him to admit to it already and let you go away, with a broken, but at least free heart.

But he had different plans.

“Have you maybe thought that I never said a word about it simply because it wasn’t true?” He asked carefully, his voice still angry. “I just can’t believe you thought that I loved someone else—”

“What?” Your mind went blank. You needed a moment to collect your thoughts. “What do you mean it’s not true?” You sniffed quietly, confusion taking over your face.“B-But Jeremiah said that you had a past with her and—”

“I did. I had feelings for her once, but that was literal lifetimes ago!” His irritation didn’t ease in the slightest. “I had feelings for someone who looked similar to her. But she’s not the same person anymore, and even if she was, I couldn’t possibly fall in love with her. Not now, not ever.” You stopped in your tracks, trying to analyze everything he was saying to you and failing miserably at it. You looked at his face, your expression puzzled, searching for an answer there, hidden between his beautiful, soft features. It shocked you to see that now he started to calm himself down, gaze genuine, an image of complete transparency.

You couldn’t wrap your head around the idea that you were mistaken. All this time, when you thought you never stood a chance, when you thought that he loved another, when you wanted to let him go—

“You’re not in love with MC.” It wasn’t a question anymore, your voice quiet while you were trying to process that thought. He must’ve seen how you fought with the thoughts inside your head, because he released a groan and took a step towards you. You unintentionally took one step back. He frowned.

“Of course I’m not.” Voice sweet like honey, stance sure, his eyes searched desperately for yours. He looked at your face, covered in tears and his eyebrows furrowed deeper, hating how upset you seemed and didn’t know how to reverse it. “How could I ever be, when your face is all I can see, every time I close my eyes?” He uttered looking at you with such devotion that it almost made your knees buckle.

Complete silence took over your thoughts after his confession. You didn’t know what was happening.

But fortunately, his mind finally started to piece everything together in a picture, that although was beyond frustrating to think about, was giving him so much hope for something he thought he already lost.

He allowed himself to relax, took a deep breath and finally decided to drop his inner shackles, letting his emotions flow out of him without restraint.

“You are the one that I love.” He said clearly, not moving a muscle. He wondered if you could see the quick movement of his chest, with how hard his heart was trying to escape through it to reach you. Whereas, you felt as if yours stopped moving completely, along with the time around you, not ready to believe that this was truly happening. “It was you from the very beginning. I adored you since the day I first saw you.” He continued, his gaze piercing into your face, slight confusion visible on his features. “And I thought that was obvious? I wasn’t exactly the best at hiding my feelings, especially after I told you about them the first night we spend together.”

You blinked slowly. Once, then twice.

Your head hurt. You couldn’t wrap it around everything he was saying. Xavier was in love with you? And he already told you about it? You were so confused that the only way you knew how to react was with denial.

“You—You didn’t. I didn’t know, you are not being serious.” He shook his head in disbelief.

“I did. You really don’t remember?” His tone softened, and he waited a short second for your answer, but couldn’t contain his nerves. “It was the night I kissed you for the first time, thinking that would be the last. But you reciprocated.” His eyes gleamed in the moonlight, and you found yourself holding your breath, afraid even the slightest sound might interrupt the flow of his confession.

“You—You kissed me back, and let me do things to you I only ever dared to dream about before.” He took another step your way, a small smile grazing his handsome face. “And the confession slipped out of me so naturally before we even reached the bed.” He briefly recalled that fateful night, describing the conversations you forgot, but longed to remember since that very moment.

“You didn’t reply, but you responded nicely to my touch, so I thought that meant that you wanted me too, that maybe you’d accept me. As your beloved. Your soulmate.” You brought your hand to cover your mouth. You couldn’t believe it. “But then in the morning when you woke up, you were panicking. I tried to reassure you, but you weren’t listening to me.”

That part of the story you knew by heart, him telling you that he couldn’t forget, didn’t want to forget. Back then you didn’t connect it with anything close to confession, but more with the change in your relationship. You really didn’t want to jump to any conclusions, you didn’t even dream about him loving you, when you thought that he loved MC. Insecurities and false assumptions completely clouded your vision.

“And when you proposed staying friends, with the bonus of intimacy, of course I took the chance. I thought you remembered my confession and didn’t reciprocate my feelings, but I was so desperate that I would take anything you were willing to give me, even if it didn’t involve your love. I—” he cut off, blush flushed over his cheeks, up to the tips of his ears. He took a shaky breath. “I was clinging to the hope that maybe through the new shared intimacy I could show you how much you meant to me. And maybe, maybe someday you would start feeling the same, when you realized how good we are together and how good I can be for you.”

“Xavier—Oh my god.” You breathed, your hand still covering your mouth, your eyes never leaving his face. His beautiful, starstruck face, now so full of confusion and unspoken hurt. “Bunny, I’m so, so, so sorry. I had no idea, I—” Your voice practically a whisper, you were still coming to terms with the fact that your feelings were reciprocated. And that you were the one who complicated things between you. “I don’t remember anything you said to me that night. I couldn’t even hear you through the sound of my own blood thrumming in my ears, that’s how drunk I felt. How overwhelmed after our first kiss.”

The alcohol consumed that night also wasn’t of big help. You were a lightweight and you drunk only occasionally, so the few drinks you had already made you feel dizzy. Mixed with the intensity of your emotions, it overwhelmed you so intensely that his touch was all you could remember from that night. But now you could make it all alright.

“I only remember your touch, the things we did, and our conversation the next morning. I remember touching your hand and initiating the kiss, and my tipsy brain just thought that you went with it to forget about MC.” You said truthfully, letting it all pour out of you. Your cheeks burned with the embarrassment of admitting how desperate you were for him, that the thought he loved another didn’t stop you from having sex with him.

Then the blush deepened from the realization that from the very beginning the only one he was thinking about was you.

This thought made your head spin, the happiness slowly bubbling in your chest. Your whole body trembled.

“That’s— Fuck. You really don’t remember.” He shook his head again, realizing how deep the misunderstanding reached. “You didn’t initiate anything. I was the one who kissed you first.”

“No, I—”

“Yes. You touched my hand, smiled at me contentedly and said some things and I—I just couldn’t restrain myself any longer.” This time you were the one who started approaching him slowly. You needed him close. Always. And you realized that now you didn’t have any reasons to deny yourself that lack of distance. “You looked so soft, so open and kissable, and I just went for it. And then you reciprocated.” The light in his eyes started sparkling when he noticed that you were finally coming closer to him. He reached out his hand for you and you took it gently, still shaking from the unspoken emotions.

“I can’t believe it. All this time I thought that you were in love with someone else.” His hand was warm, the touch electrifying. You squeezed his hand and intertwined your fingers together. You saw how between your clasped hands, his Evol started shining brightly, shading soft light upon your features. It was a sign that he was excited. “I tried to put a distance between us, end this intimacy because I thought that I was just a second best for you. An easy distraction.”

“How could you think that? Almost from the moment I met you, I have loved you passionately—” He brought you even closer together, pulling you by your intertwined hands, and put his other hand on your cheek. He swiped the reminder of your tears with his fingers, looking into your eyes with a devotion so apparent that it took your ability to form coherent thoughts. How did you manage to miss the way he was always looking your way?

“X-Xavier.”

“I couldn’t even think about anyone else even if I tried to. You occupy my every thought. How could I ever find a place for somebody else in my heart when you fill the space out completely?” Everything that came out of his mouth was laced with impatience. He was trying so hard to make you understand him, and the intensity of his emotions. He couldn’t psychically hold it inside anymore, he restrained himself for so long that he felt as if all of his walls finally crumbled. He needed you to know everything.

“I love you, starlight. I’m so in love with you that I couldn’t contain that feeling inside anymore. I couldn’t even spend five minutes in your presence without trying to touch you, to kiss you, to hold you. My whole body longs for you constantly.” He said, thinking about the months after you started being friends with benefits. How at first, he wasn’t sure how much he could take from you, and then, when he noticed that you didn’t mind the affection outside the bedroom, he couldn’t contain himself. He kissed you every time he had a chance, he touched you everywhere he could, he was trying to stay away from you as little as possible. Despite thinking that you did not reciprocate his feelings fully, his love for you flowed out of him naturally, every look and every touch laced with unconditional devotion.

During the period of your silence and avoiding him, he thought that it was because he finally crossed a line. He let his feelings out too much, he finally made you uncomfortable. He was starting to act as you lover, not as your friend and it wasn’t what you agreed to. He thought you still didn’t love him and maybe that was a sign that you never will. And even if that could be the case, he still couldn’t let you go.

And it appeared that he didn’t have to.

That you were not uncomfortable, but unsure.

That it was all a huge misunderstanding.

And the words that came out of your pretty, little mouth next, almost brought him to his knees.

“Xavier. Xavier me too, I—” You stuttered, completely overwhelmed by how much you were feeling. You squeezed his wrists, and looked deep into his beautiful, hopeful eyes. “I love you too. And I fell in love with you long before our first night together. I just thought that it was wishful thinking, because your heart was already taken by someone else. And that I could just stay beside you as your friend and that would be enough. And then share your bed from time to time, if that meant that I could hold you close, be on the receiving end of your affection.” You said and raised on your feet to place a quick kiss on his lips. He chased after you instantly, despite appearing stunned. You noticed his hands were shaking.

“You really mean it?” He asked, leaning towards you, kissing your lips again, this time for longer. He had trouble keeping his mouth away from yours, especially now, that he knew that every one of your kisses was filled with love. “Am I not dreaming this time?” You smiled and stroked his hair affectionately, petting his head, wanting to convey your feelings in every way possible.

“Xavier, I love you.” You repeated, grabbing his head in your palms and looking deep into his eyes. Your voice was strong, leaving no room for uncertainty. “I love you so mu—” He didn’t let you finish that sentence, because he quickly picked you up and spun you around, holding you in his arms. You giggled and put your arms around his neck, holding him tightly, his face buried in your neck. When he stopped, he quickly found your lips again and that kiss felt groundbreaking.

He held you close to him, one hand squeezing you by your waist, and the other holding your jaw gently. His brows furrowed in desperation and his kisses were slow, sensual, sending pleasant shocks throughout your whole body. His tongue made an appearance, and he tasted you in a way that made your legs feel like jelly. He licked into your mouth, grunting lowly, his fingers placing a strand of your hair behind your ear, then tracing patterns on your warm cheek. When you opened your eyes for a second, you could see that the tips of his ears were red. The blush spread through his cheeks too, making him look so adorable.

“It does feel like a dream.” He breathed between kisses. “And sounds too good to be true.” He captured your lips again and you smiled into his mouth. Your heart was about to burst.

“I love you.” You repeated, basking in the feeling of finally being able to say it out loud, be open with your emotions. He released your lips and kissed your forehead. You looked up, and he placed his forehead against yours, his eyes closed, a wide smile adorning his face.

“Don’t stop saying that. You make me so happy.” He said quietly, and you whispered the confession once again, making him sigh shakily.

“I was so stupid. I should’ve asked you right from the start if what Jeremiah said was true.” You said and hugged him more tightly. “I should’ve told you sooner.” You placed your head on his strong chest, your ear touching his bare body, listening to his fast heartbeat. Your hands were hugging his waist, mindful not to touch his bandaged back.

“No, I foolishly thought that telling you once would suffice. I forgot that you drank that night and that could’ve clouded your memory.” He squeezed you harder to himself and started back away with you in his arms, until the back of his legs touched his couch. He fell into it, holding you close, making you sit on his lap. “To think that I could have you sooner—” He looked into your eyes, as if searching for something.

“You had me before, and you have me now. My heart, my body, my soul.” You positioned yourself more comfortably, placing your legs on both sides of his waist, and took his face into your hands. He closed his eyes at the contact, and started to caress your body, from your waist, down to your legs. He squeezed the plush of your tights and let his head fall against the couch pillows.

He couldn’t believe that this was happening. He prayed that this wasn’t a dream, that all of the things you were telling him were true. His chest vibrated pleasurably, incredible warmth spreading through it. His heart beat so quickly, and so loudly that he thought it was the first time he felt its’ beat so intensely himself. Your words made him feel drunk with emotion.

He opened his eyes to look at your face.

He almost choked with how beautiful you were. How divine, sitting on him, caressing his shoulders, smiling at him with the stars in your eyes. He looked at your lips, full and swollen, bearing the signs of his kisses. He looked at your neck, delicate and unmarked, and he stroked it with the back of his hand, wanting to change that fact immediately, knowing that now he was allowed to do that. He switched his gaze to your eyes again and drank them in, basking in their light, wishing that this moment could never end. Or maybe it should, so it could become your new beginning.

You were his treasure. His star, his light, guiding him through life, making his existence worth pursuing. You showed him that the world can be beautiful, despite its overbearing cruelty. You were his salvation, his safe place, his one and only, showing him every single day that he mattered, that he was not a lost cause, or a villain in disguise. You taught him that he was capable of loving so intensely and now, that he was loved as passionately in return.

He doubted his worth, but the only way he knew to prove his love for you was by protecting you with his very life. You had no idea, but his sword, now a symbol of your bond, was yours to command—and you were the only reason he continued to wield it.

“What are you thinking about?” Your voice was not more than a whisper, your eyes still looking into his starry ones, losing yourself in the deep blue. You loved them, how magnificent and expressive they were, and you swore to yourself to tell him about it every day.

He seemed to get out of the trace he was in, and his eyes softened, still taking you in. He smiled and took your hands into his, and kissed your knuckles, his kisses gentle and long-lasting.

“You.” He replied shortly, his voice gentle and reassuring. He put your hands on his shoulders, making you hug his neck with them. You complied and put your whole arms around his neck, bringing your bodies closer. One of his hands touched your waist, caressing it delicately, and the other one stroked your hair, admiring its’ softness. His eyes never left yours. “Always you, my starlight. Then, now, and till the end of my days. I will always carry you in my mind, and in my heart, to be able to reach you, no matter the distance.” You could feel his breath on your face with how close you were to each other, and he gazed at your open lips, which were already waiting to be kissed senselessly. “I love you, as I never loved anyone else in my life, and I never will again.” His lips captured yours in a kiss so soft, yet so desperate, and full of adoration, that you felt a single, happy tear escape from your eye. He deepened the kiss and held you throughout the night, kissing you and touching you, never wanting the moment to end, the warmth of your skin to become a memory.

It all started with the simplest of touches, and it never truly ended. The spark you ignited that first night has never faded. Since the moment you met, it has burned brightly between you both, a light so powerful that it could be seen across the vastness of deep space. Everlasting and exquisite, just like the different lifetimes you both had ahead of you, always finding each other, as if guided by its warmth.

ੈ✩‧₊˚

thank you for your time and please let me know if you liked it!! i was thinking of writing more for this au, maybe from xavier’s perspective? how they met and how he fell in love + how their first night really played out ♡

if u liked it, u can buy me a coffee here!: https://buycoffee.to/mochiwrites

[hrrtshape]

read this if you're confused about persistence, if you've been affirming for months and nothing's shown up, if you're wondering whether you're doing something wrong but can't figure out what. not a method post. not a technique post. just what’s actually going on when it's not working yet.

ok. so. hi. this is going to be messy and probably upsetting. not because it's dramatic. don't flatter it. but because it's honest. and honesty gets weird when you're dealing with a field that's still so underexamined. we're all just poking the edge of the simulation with a biro. and maybe i should leave it alone. maybe i'm overcomplicating again. maybe this is one of those moments where i should just shut up and script and go to bed. but. no. i can't. i don't know how to shut up about this. and maybe this isn't even the truth. maybe this is just one lens. but fine. whatever. here it is.

context: someone asked me today. "how do i force myself to shift in a short amount of time?" (@srcerers this is your fault....affectionately) and i was writing the usual. the "correct" answer. if you decide it, it's done. if you say you shift instantly, you do. period. PERIOD. done and done, tried and true. the golden assumption + confidence = success formula.

and then i spiralled. because i've been saying that for months. and yes, i've shifted. yes, i've seen results. but before that???????? i spent ages deciding. persisting. affirming. knowing. and still. nothing. and no, this isn't about pedestals. this isn't about wanting it too much. this isn't a fucking disney villain song about obsession. this isn't "just let go babe." no one here is pacing the astral gates with mascara running. this isn't longing. this is clarity. this is when you know it's yours and reality still has the audacity to play pretend.

you're not begging. you're not desperate. you're just wondering why the algorithm is lagging. and you're allowed to. you're god, and the lights are flickering. you're allowed to knock on the wall and ask why.

and sure. someone might read this and say "you were overthinking." or "you were still checking the 3d." but it's not that. this isn't panic. it's not frantic. it's the calm after the calibration. this is what happens after you stop checking. after you stabilise. after you fully assume. when you don't need results to believe. but they still don't come. and so you ask. not because you're doubting. because you're refining. it's not sabotage. it's devotion. it's wanting to understand the edge of your own dominion.

and the thing is. in the past, i wasn't hoping. i wasn't tiptoeing. i was in. all in. clearly, absolutely. no checking. no waiting. i wasn't treating the assumption like a wish. i was living like it was already law. so i continued in this spiral. because if you're god. if your thoughts create. if you say "i am in my dr" now and you mean it, like actually mean it, shouldn't that be enough?? i say this confidently, because after shifting so much, yes, that is indeed what happens. but. for people who haven't experienced that privilege. like. confidence plus assumption equals done. right??? so then why not. where does the decision go. does it just evaporate. does it fall behind the couch cushions of the multiverse. in what fucking universe do you decide something every day with conviction and it still doesn't root. how does that not calcify into fact.

so let me give you a scenario. maybe it's you. it was definitely me.

you're affirming day and night. not hoping. not wishing. knowing. you've decided you are in your dr. period. you walk like it. talk like it. feel it. you're not checking for results. not looking over your shoulder. not waiting for it to kick in. because it already did. your inner world is loud. it's screaming this is it. i'm there. not even zeus could knock me off the road because as god is my witness, i am in my goddamn dr.

and, nothing. no hogwarts. no mansion. no parisian cigarette moment with my boo in the rain. just your room. your walls. your body. again. again. again.

and it doesn't make sense. because the law is the law. you're god. your thoughts create. shifting is instant. so what the fuck is happening.

and look, i used to think there were only two ways to persist. either you're in power mode, clean, cold certainty. emotionally detached, i've already shifted, i'm just reinforcing it. or you're in panic mode, still affirming, still assuming, but there's this silent grip underneath. if i stop deciding this, it'll fall apart. and yeah, on the surface those feel like two different planets. one feels sovereign. the other feels shaky.

but if you strip the tone out of it, if you stop obsessing over how it sounds and just look at the architecture, both are assumptions. both are decisions. both count. because the law doesn't care if you're cool about it or crying about it. it only cares that you're doing it. that it's declared. that it's held. so if both modes are valid, then why do they sometimes fail????????

and this is where it started to come apart for me. because both 'i've already shifted' and 'i need to keep deciding' are still assumptions. one just feels better. it's smoother. but structurally, they're the same. and if the panic one isn't checking, if it's clean panic, if it's quiet panic, it should still land. it should still work. but sometimes it doesn't. and that's what broke the seal. because if it's not about hope, not about doubt, not about waiting, not about checking, and you're affirming like a master shifter, what the fuck is it? and i'll be using me as a poster child of examples and say that, hey, although shifting is now easy for me - i still struggle with manifestations. so. why???

and that question is the reason i'm even writing this at all.

so now maybe you're thinking (if i hopefully have not fully gutted your brain as i have with mine while writing this):

maybe it's because i'm doing it from panic, not power. maybe i'm secretly doubting. maybe i haven't let go. maybe i'm still in the waiting room. maybe that's because i keep looking at the 3d.

no. stop. cut it out. that's noise.

you can be in panic. you can be in power. it doesn't matter. if you are persisting. assuming. deciding. then it should work. that's the rule. that's the contract. it's not a myth. it's not a loophole. it's not some cult-coded trick line you chant and hope it lands. it's the structure. it's the law.

i kept trying to find a reason. maybe it's density. maybe it's linear cause and effect, like flipping a light switch and expecting the bulb. but loa doesn't work like that. and shifting definitely doesn't. it's not circuitry. it's not push-button response.

if you are the light, then the switch shouldn't matter. you're not triggering something, you are the trigger. you're the source. the mechanism. the whole #&*!$%@ circuit board. so what's jamming the signal. if it's not doubt. not timing. not belief. then what.

and here's the closest thing to an answer i've got (half consolation, half theory, fully an attempt to keep myself from throwing my laptop across the room):

you've already shifted. you just haven't caught up to yourself yet.

i know. i hate how that sounds too. it's vague. it's annoying. it feels like spiritual scaffolding. but it's not. or i at least hope it's not.

when we say shifting is instant, we don't mean the wallpaper peels itself off and your mom turns into dumbledore. we mean the moment you decide, the reality activates. the coordinates reroute. the entire grid adjusts.

it's as if you are rerouting a train track mid-motion. you're still moving. but you're not on the same line anymore.

the problem is, we expect the scenery to change with the switch. and sometimes it does. but sometimes it doesn't. and that's because the 3d isn't a flatscreen. it's not theatre. it's not performance. it's a mirror. and mirrors don't update because you want them to. they update because you've changed so deeply that they literally can't reflect the old you anymore.

so when you say "i am in my dr" and it doesn't look like your dr, that's not proof it failed. it's just a delay. you're already in the new field, but the particles haven't aligned. and yeah, that's maddening. because your body feels the shift. your head knows it. but your eyes won't show it. and then you start to doubt. not openly. but subtly. in the quiet. in the repetition.

so. what can i sum up. persistence is not about time. it's about saturation.

it's not about hours logged or how many affirmations you can fire off in a spiral notebook. it's about how deep it goes. how thick it sticks. and no, that doesn't mean screaming it louder. doesn't mean performing it. it means not needing to say it at all. not because you gave up. not because you're done trying. but because it's default now. baseline. unconscious. it is. not a spell. not a statement. just identity.

shifting isn't something you win. it's not a trophy for spiritual discipline. it's a symptom. a side effect of self-recognition so total, so absolute, that there's no room left for contradiction.

so yeah. both "i've already shifted" and "i need to keep deciding" can work. panic or power doesn't matter if the persistence is clean. if you're not checking. not looping. not measuring the silence. but if you're still waiting, even subtly, even spiritually, it's not saturation. it's performance.

and that doesn't mean you're doing it wrong. it just means you're still becoming. still burning off the part of you that thinks shifting is something to win, not something you already are.

and yes, some people shift instantly. some people shift after six months of saying "i'm already there." and they're not better than you. they're not more "aligned."

they just hit saturation faster. their idea of "this is true" had less gunk to burn off.

you say: but i'm god. i decide. why hasn't it happened yet?

and i say: it has. if it feels like it hasn't, you're still relating to it like something outside you. you're still watching for it.

reality isn’t late. reality isn't anything. it just reflects. it doesn't show up when you're ready, it has to show up when you're being. not when you want. not when you wait. when you are.

if it's not visible yet, it's not because it's in transit. it's because you're still checking. you're still measuring. you’re not failing. you're not early. you're just still treating truth like a method.

and truth isn’t a process. it’s a position. a posture. you don't need to persist for six months. you don't need to reach peak saturation like it’s a score. you just need to stop making realness conditional.

stop affirming like you're earning it. start assuming like it's breath. like it’s done and there’s nothing to explain.

because shifting isn't slow. it's not cumulative. it’s not linear. it’s identity. the second you say: i am - it's done.

not "on its way." not "almost here." and certainly not "it's glitching."

done. and if you're still asking when, then you haven't decided. not really. so stop trying to time it. just be it.

and look. i still believe shifting is easy. because it is. i've done it. i know it's not in charge. but sometimes it's not about method. it's about the silence in between. and that doesn't make the law wrong. it just makes the process actual. i'm not saying shifting or manifesting is hard. i'm saying that staying loyal to the truth when it hasn't shown its face yet takes a different kind of strength.

you don't have to overanalyse it.

but you're allowed to want to understand it.

that doesn't undo the truth.

it just lets you live inside it better.

[dunmesh]

this panel from the world guide of falin being surrounded by other girls while laios is all alone kills me because. that's it. that's the key difference in their journeys.

as laios states himself, he left the village in order to create a home for him and falin elsewhere. a home that won't collapse due to others' hatred and fears like their old home did, a home where they are loved and accepted unconditionally. but as he soon found out, even before earning money, or having walls surrounding him and a roof above his head- what he so earnestly desired was to meet other people who will accept him for who he is as well. instead, he kept being tormented by those around him, shunned and sneered at. his loneliness quickly became all-consuming until he truly had nothing left except for the monsters in the pages of his book, but even that became a target of mockery and destroyed. that's why ever since the day he left the village, he never felt that he truly made the right choice. so he kept running away: unable to resist and unable to accpet.

and an ocean away from him there was his sister, who never managed to fully fit in herself. but unlike him, she met a person who became a home to her and learned what a true friendship was for the first time in her life. and laios clearly realizes that too when he finally sees falin and marcille together, he can tell his sister obtained the greatest treasure there is on her own- the exact thing he never managed to find anywhere himself, thus coming back empty-handed to the sister he left the village for.

but when you read this part of the manga, laios's focus is on falin's loneliness, not his own. he talks about how it hurts thinking about all those moments she had to spend alone because he wasn't there for her, so it almost sounds like he's the one who couldn't bear her suffering and therefore decided to not let her go again. but we do get a glimpse of their first meeting after that almost-decade long separation in the manga, and then we see more of that in the world guide and daydream hour- and it becomes abundantly clear that it was falin who was trying to protect and save him from this pit of loneliness and depression he was in.

so instead of just doing his best to atone for leaving her behind in the village and making sure she is never lonely again, it might also be that laios was desperately clinging to the one person in the world he felt that accepted and loved him unconditionally. those words he used to describe his motivation to stay by falin's side are the exact words she would've used as well; she couldn't bear leaving him behind in this state. in a sense, they were each other's shackles.

but then she did. she died for him and their friends, and ironically enough, it was by leaving him alone like this that he was finally able to stand on his own and put his full trust in others. to have the courage to reveal who he is and give others the opportunity to accept him after such a long time of hiding. it was a long journey, but his hiding finally came to an end when he faced the others after shedding his monster form. and i love that the person who was falin's "home" all those years away from laios, marcille, became just as meaningful to him during their time separated from falin- the first one to find him and show him that he isn't alone anymore. just as he did for her.

so at the end of the story when falin talks about all the places she would like to go, it's not just that she wants to pursue her own dreams- but that she actually feels free to do so and go anywhere she desires. and one of the main reasons for that is that her brother finally found new people he wants to be with; his own home.

[ssahotchnerr]

hi!!! could you write aaron x bau! reader, where jack accidentally finds a positive pregnancy test in the bathroom or somewhere in a drawer before reader gets a chance to tell aaron)))🫶🏻

tells

omg omg i could cry 🫶🏻🥹 cw; pregnant bau!reader, mentions of pregnancy symptoms, a ton of fluff <3 wc; 1k

"Hi sweetheart."

Aaron's eyes rose as you entered his office, before returning to the files laid atop his desktop, a paper in his right hand. His stare had lingered momentarily, so he noticed the bag in your hand. "Heading out?"

"Yup, gotta pick up Jack." You replied, hoping you sounded somewhat normal, given your current circumstances. You felt as if your voice was borderline squeaky, in that attempt to remain normal, while also resisting the urge to bounce on your toes. "You coming with?"

On another note, you were so incredibly thankful to be leaving early; overwhelmed with nausea, back pain, fatigue. Ginger ale had been within arm's reach all day, an achingly long day. Laying in bed had never sounded more appealing.

"No, I wish I could. There's a few consults I need to look over before tomorrow. It shouldn't take too long, though." He got up, inching towards you, "I can, however, spare some time for you."

Your nose scrunched in amusement, leaning up to peck his lips, "You're too good to me."

He chased your lips, murmuring into the kiss with a soft smirk and teasing you right back, "I do try."

After the two of you pulled away (and a whistle echoed outside from a passing Derek Morgan), you toyed with his tie, smoothing it cleanly against his torso. "Don't stay too late, okay?"

"I won't." Aaron kissed you once, twice more before retreating back to his desk. He held onto your hand for as long as possible, causing it to fall gracefully to your side. "I'll be home before dinner, I promise."

Instead of leaving, all you could do was stand there; staring at him, completely giddy. The secret you held, it made you feel a whole new kind of love when you looked at him. The father of your unborn child, the perfect addition to your family. A new love you had created together.

Aaron's gaze lifted, catching you ogling him, a confused smile forming on his face. "What?"

"Oh, nothing. Nothing at all." You shrugged, forcing your feet towards the door. "I'll see you at home."

His eyes narrowed suspiciously, playfully. He absolutely didn't buy it. "Okay, drive safe."

-

"Hi." Jack greeted, climbing into the backseat and shutting the door behind him. He struggled the smallest amount, his backpack weighing him down.

"Hey Jackers," You twisted behind, offering a warm smile, "have a good day?"

"Yeah." He verified, and left it at that. He simply settled in, buckling up.

While you had thought you were the one being strange, he was definitely more so. As you took the route home, he remained quiet in the back, rather than being his usual talkative, wanting-to-tell-you-everything-about-his-day self. You peered at him in the rearview, observing him.

He didn't look pale, so hopefully he wasn't coming down with something. He didn't seem upset - his eyebrows always pinched together in worry when he was. Even this morning during breakfast for instance, he seemed far away, off in his own world. If you didn't know any better, he looked on edge, but in a jittery, seemingly excited way. Antsy, and oddly familiar.

"You okay?"

Jack nodded, keeping his eyes out the window. His absorbed expression indicated the gears continuing to turn in his mind.

"Did something happen today? You're awfully quiet."

"I have a question."

You stopped the car, arriving home, turning around in your seat again to fully look at him. "You know you can ask me anything. Whatever's on your mind, nothing's off limit."

His eyes lit up, hopeful yet quizzical. He quietly and timidly asked, "Am I getting a baby brother or sister?"

You blinked at him, surprised, as that was the last thing you expected to come out of his mouth. But you couldn't stop the small smile tugging its way onto your face. Not only because you were happy, of course, but you also didn't want him thinking he had done something wrong. "What makes you ask that?"

"I wasn't snooping, I promise. I went into your bathroom to look for some floss - Dad said I could, said it was in the top left drawer - and I saw it, it said pregnant. But I didn't mean to see, I swear."

Your expression softened sweetly, a gentle laugh escaping you too, "It's okay buddy, that's completely on me. I didn't do a very good job of concealing it at all."

An adorable, boyish smile pulled at his lips, the words leaving him shyly. He could infer the answer, but he needed the actual confirmation. "So... am I?"

After a moment's silence, letting the suspense linger, you confirmed, your heart bursting as you did. "You are."

"Yes!" He nearly shouted, immediately unbuckling his seatbelt and throwing his arms around you, as much as he could with the obstacle of the driver's seat. His arms mainly reached around your neck.

You laughed gleefully, your hands raising to his arms, squeezing them gently - a makeshift hug for the meantime. Tears dared to spill down your cheeks, overwhelmed with emotion.

He released the embrace, sobering for a moment and the realization beginning to fully set in. "I'm really getting a sister?"

"It could be a boy too." You arched a brow, grinning.

"Yeah," he matched your smile, buzzing with happiness. "And I'd love that too. But, I think it's gonna be a girl."

"Well, we'll just have to wait and see." You shrugged coyly, "It's still quite early, so we won't be able to find out for a couple weeks."

"Weeks?" He whined painfully, but it faded as fast as it had appeared. "I'm so excited. I can't wait."

"You wanna know something else?" He nodded profusely. "You're the only one who knows."

Jack's eyes brightened more if it were possible, in both exhilaration and shock. "Seriously?!"

For the meantime, it was a special secret, shared just between the two of you. You could've sobbed right there, between his genuine sweetness and excitement. And the hormones.

Regardless, he was going to be the best big brother.

"Dad doesn't know?"

"Not yet. I was brainstorming how to tell him, how to tell you, but you were just too quick for me." You flashed him a teasing grin. "That means you have to help me come up with a fun way to tell him, and quick, because I think he's onto me. Deal?"

Jack held out his pinky, interlocking it with yours. "Deal."

[evergumi]

megumi loves showering with you, but it's not even in a sexual way. it was just the way you massaged your slender fingers into his raven locks so lovingly, the scent of your sweet-smelling shampoo filling his nostrils as your fingertips scraped his scalp that made him want to shed tears; the way he finds comfort in the warm water cascading around the two of you, steam rising and enveloping the small space like a gentle hug.

soft music plays from outside the shower, overlapping the constant sound of the water running. the gentle notes of glue song by beabadoobee fill the air, your soft hums mixing with the words as you wash his hair, creating a soothing melody and drowning out the world outside. the way you tenderly rinse out the lather, eyes occasionally meeting with that playful spark, makes him feel secure, almost cherished as he tries to fight back the small twitch of his lips.

"close your eyes," you say softly. "let me wash it out." the warm water from the showerhead runs through his hair, and the feeling of your hands in his hair makes him rest a gentle hand on your shoulder. the soft melody of the song playing adds to the calm atmosphere. as you finish rinsing out the shampoo, megumi smiles at you, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead.

“my turn,” he murmurs as he turns you around, giving your arm a gentle caress as he squeezes a generous amount of shampoo onto his calloused palm, combing through your dark locks with his other hand as you giggle. the pale pink liquid forms suds in your hair, and he gently massages it into your head as you sing along to the music, a smile on your face. bringing the showerhead to your head as you did for him and turning it on, he cups your cheek and tells you to close your eyes. he runs his rough fingertips through your silky hair, watching in awe as the soap suds clear out. “your hair…” he mumbles. “this is why it smells so good…”

you chuckle softly, squeezing your eyes shut as shampooey water runs over your eyes.

“you say that every time.”

“that’s because it smells too good not to say anything, y/n.”

he cups your cheeks, murmuring softly to relax your eyes as you close them so that he can squeeze out the water, just in case it hurt them; he uses the pads of his thumbs to gently press against your eyelids, trying to hide the slight twitch of his lips as you scrunch your nose.

the moments stretch into a quiet intimacy as water drips rhythmically around you, each drop a soft reminder of the bond you share. he leans into your touch, eyes fluttering closed as he relishes the feeling of being cared for. sometimes, you share stories, laughter intertwining with the sound of water, and his heart swells at the joy of these simple, yet profound moments. it's a retreat from everything else, a sanctuary built on trust and warmth, where the chaos of life fades away, leaving only the sweet solace of companionship. and in those fleeting moments, he realizes that it’s not just a shower—it’s a little piece of heaven, a small escape that he longs for, more and more each day.

“guess what i’m drawing on your back,” you giggle. “draw what you feel on the fog.”

tracing your slender finger over his back, megumi frowns in concentration as he uses his calloused fingertip to draw what he feels on his back onto the fogged-up glass door, making you laugh yet again.

“what is that, gumi?”

“i don’t know. what is that, y/n?”

“the doggies, nutmeg.”

“don’t call me that.”

your laughter bounces softly off the bathroom walls, and megumi lets out a quiet grumble. after a moment of silence, he clears his throat and turns to trace his own finger along the glass door again, this time more deliberate.

you tilt your head curiously as you watch him. “what’re you drawing now?”

he doesn’t answer, focused on the small shapes forming beneath his fingertip. when he steps aside, you see it—a little family of stick figures, one noticeably smaller than the other two, with scribbly “dogs” beside them.

“megumi,” you whisper softly, feeling your heart squeeze.

he shrugs, his tone casual but his expression soft. “just thinking it’d be nice, you know. you, me, the dogs… and maybe a little girl.”

your chest tightens with warmth as you stare at the little drawing. you can almost hear the giggles of a child blending into the sound of the water, a soft addition to these peaceful moments.

megumi doesn’t say anything more, but the way his hand lingers over yours and the small upward tug of his lips tells you enough. and in that moment, he can imagine these showers, but with a small, giggling girl in the mix, her laughter filling the space with a kind of joy he never knew he needed.

a/n ⋆ megumi would def be a girl dad and im gonna say this till the day i die guys i need him to carry my child hes too wholesome my adorable husband :((((

thank you for reading, ily ! lmk if you wanna be tagged and remember, reqs are always open loves !

© evergumi

[celestie0]

gojo satoru x reader | oneshot angst [18+]

title. let me be free of you

He would live in this lifetime of hell over and over again if it meant that in some other one, there exists a world where he never hurts you.

ᰔ pairing. friends to strangers au - best friend!gojo x reader (f)

ᰔ summary. gojo satoru, your love of a lifetime, tells you he’s engaged to another woman. inspired by the novel & netflix series “one day” created by david nicholls

ᰔ warnings/tags. 18+, fem!reader, angst, mentions of sex/explicit content, coming of age themes, reader & gojo are in their 30s, mentions of pregnancy, mentions of alcohol, cheating, lots of mutual pining & longing, bittersweet ending

ᰔ word count. 4.8k

a/n. hellooo! i've had this finished in my wips folder for a long time but never got around to posting it sooo just wanted to let it see the light of day haha. hope you enjoyyy <33

➸ masterlist

“I’m engaged.”

The words leave Gojo’s lips as much less of a confession and more like a blabber, like a toddler desperate to keep conversation going in the face of a disinterested adult. Wasn’t how he expected to share the news of a lifetime to the love of his lifetime, but he hopes it breaks your heart to hear it. 

He watches your eyebrows flatten from the crease that was bothering them before, and then slowly raise into soft arches above your eyes–those damn beautiful eyes that, even when they twinkle with hurt, still make his heart skip a beat in his chest.

He recalls for a moment the night the two of you met, drunk and dizzy from drinking out of a shared bottle of Prosecco, which only had half of the liquor left in it to start when he had first found it bleeding out to dry on the grassy lawn at the front of your university. It was graduation night, the last day to celebrate finishing four years of hell, and he had nothing to his name other than a rolled up diploma shoved in the pocket of his suit pants and the charm left in the youth of his smile. He wanted to spend the night with Aiko Rei, which was not a unique desire as most men on campus did, and he had a fair shot of getting into bed with her just like all those times before. But instead he was sitting at the top of a staircase inside the campus’s English literature building, making history in the crisp year of 1986 by being the first man of the robust age of twenty-three to pass up sex with the school’s lady heartthrob for–well, conversation with a sort of ditsy girl that he just met a half hour ago.

“What do you plan to do with your life?” he heard you ask him, a hard enough question to stomach when one is sober, and an impossible question to stomach when one is already trying not to puke flat Prosecco.

“Pardon?” he asked, in hopes to dissuade you from the question. In hopes that you’d get the hint. But you don’t. And he’d soon learn throughout the years of your friendship to come that you never did.

“Your life!” you exclaim, “we’re graduates now! What do you want to do with it?” You pat harshly at his thigh, closer to his groin than to his pocket, most likely because you’re tipsy too, but he realizes you’re referring to the rolled up paper protruding at the pocket. 

Truthfully, Gojo had never thought much about what he wanted to do after graduation. Hell, he didn’t even think he’d make it this far. Not once since he got here, not once since he flunked out of first-year history, not once since his father passed away during his third-year final examinations, and most certainly not after he got caught having “unethical affairs” with his communications professor just two months ago. And yet the esteemed board of scholars decided he was fit for a diploma anyway, and now he’s answering to, effectively, a stranger what he plans to do with said piece of paper.

“I don’t know,” he says to you, “I’ll do whatever.” 

Gojo Satoru could get by with doing whatever. He was good at everything he did. But his teachers and mentors and his own father would always warn him– son, it’s better to be an expert at one than a half-assed show-off in all. Well, they wouldn’t use the expletives, but that’s what it had sounded like in his head.

His dad would’ve liked you. He was always telling him to find a girl that challenges him, asks him the right questions, and pushes him to become a better man, the kind of woman his mother was to his father. Much opposed to the airheaded girls of Gojo’s college campus he would sneak into the house and forget to shoo off before sunrise, an occurrence that happened enough times for the respect in his father’s eyes to dwindle with each woman he’d watch his son dispel from their residence. Until eventually, Gojo started paying rent as punishment.

So, twenty-three year old Gojo, what do you plan to do with your life? Or do you have no idea of anything that extends beyond where you are right now, sitting across this strange girl you’ve just met on the death of your educational youth, at the top of a stairwell lined with passed out, drunk newly grads at nearly 4 in the morning? Right now, he’s eyeing the hem of your dress, the way it’s ridden up slightly but the mesh overskirt still tickles the skin of your thigh. He’s certainly able to picture what’s beyond that fabric, and maybe imagine the color of your panties, but what’s to come for his life? No. As previously mentioned, he never thought he’d get this far.

Gojo is thirty-four now, eleven years since that night the two of you met. And he sits next to you on a garden bench under a pitch black sky with stars speckled across, but only dimly visible. 

It’s been years since he’s seen you. You two had a “falling out” at the cusp of thirty, almost a decade of friendship fizzled away, because of his selfish actions. He couldn’t let you go, but he couldn’t want you the way you wanted him either. He didn’t feel like he deserved to have you. You were too good for him, and he knew it. So he wasted a decade chasing after other women, and in return, he lost the one he knew he was supposed to spend the rest of his life with.

It’s the night of your college roommate‘s wedding, all gathered here today to celebrate their love, and he knew he’d run into you here. You were the bride’s maiden of honor, and you looked beautiful. With your hair half tied up, a pretty clip twinkling with every movement of your head, and with strands falling down over the smooth curve of your neck, bare skin of your chest tightly covered by the nude fabric of your dress. He was fully lusting after you, and he has been all night, the picture of beauty and grace, and it was wrong. Because, again, he’s–

“You’re engaged?” you finally break through his thoughts, break through the trance that he was lost in by the sea of your eyes. Forever pulling him in like you were a wicked siren for his soul, when all you’ve ever wanted from him was his love.

He shifts a little, the thick fabric of his navy blue suit stretching with the movement as he fidgets with his hands in his lap. He’s sitting close to you, his shoulder brushing against yours, the contrast of his broad masculinity so evident against the feminine curve of your bare arm, the thin strap holding up your dress threatening to fall down the hill. His thumb twitches, because he wants to pull it back up into place for you like a gentleman, but he’s not sure if that’s what his hand would actually do. Because all he really wants to do is peel the dress off of you. 

“Yes,” he says, still tantalized by the glow of your skin under pale moonlight, “engaged.”

“To be married?”

“Well, what other kind of engaged is there?”

“You’re not allowed to get married.”

He snorts. “Says who?”

“Says me!” you exclaim, sitting up straighter, "I turn my back for one moment, and you've gone an got engaged? You're awful!" The strap of your dress falls down over your shoulder, his eyes immediately darting to it. He sees you pull the strap up back into place, and a flit of his eyes to your face reveals to him the slight dusting of an embarrassed pink to your cheeks. 

There’s a silence that settles between the two of you. Distant commotion is heard, likely from the wedding venue as people engage in reception activities and dances and cheers, while the two of you remain in this garden escape, the wall of primly trimmed bushes sheltering you two from having to pretend to be people you’re not amongst a crowd.

“Aiko…” he hears you say beside him, and although the name of the woman that has rolled off your tongue is the name of the woman he’s supposed to love, it only makes him feel sick to his stomach to hear you say her name. “She seems lovely.”

“She is,” is all he can manage to say. And he also knows this seemingly lovely woman is probably drunk off her face back at the reception hall, giggling at all the men that approach her from the sight of her flushed face, and he should feel some sort of jealousy or possessiveness over that, but he can’t seem to muster any. Unlike the grit he had to his jaw an hour ago when he saw you dancing with a man he heard you introduce to your friends as just an “old friend” of yours from college. He felt more anger in that moment than he’d ever felt watching his soon-to-be-wife getting talked up to by the sleazy men twice her age. 

“She must be very rich,” you say. “She looks it.”

“Oh. Yeah. Her family’s very well off,” Gojo says.

“So will you become rich too?” you ask him, “when you marry her.”

His eyes flit to the sky briefly. “Doubt it.”

“How come?”

“The old man doesn’t like me very much. I imagine he’ll cut ties after the wedding.”

“Her father?”

“Yes.”

“And why is that?”

“Well. I guess it’s not every father’s dream to find out his prim and proper daughter’s been knocked up by the good-for-nothing boyfriend he’s been threatening her to say good riddance to for months now.”

The silence finds the two of you again, but this time haunting and gutting. That was a blabber, if anything. So nonchalantly said, with no emotion or spirit, to the one person in this world who he’s always felt like he can be himself around.

“She’s pregnant?” you say beside him, voice breaking slightly at the end, and he can’t bear to look at you for some reason. Some sort of admission of guilt, but what for? What exactly was he repenting for?

He lets out a small laugh, like the absurdity of the situation finds him all the same. “Yeah.” 

“That–” you start, stiff next to him, before he feels the tension relax but only rigidly, “that’s wonderful, Satoru. I’m–...I’m really happy for you.” You turn your torso to wrap your arms around him, and his lips brush the sweet skin on your forehead as you bury your face in the crook of his neck. He wraps one arm around you, a sort of friendly hug as he rubs the skin of your arm soothingly, and his heart aches from the emptiness when you release him. 

“Wow…” you say, looking up at him with pretty eyes, eyelashes fluttering as you blink rapidly to process the information, and he wonders if you really are happy for him. He doesn’t want you to be. He wants you to be furious, to tell him off for getting another woman pregnant after leading you on for so many years, maybe he wants you to slap him, or grab him by the collar of his shirt and shake him until all he sees is a million of you through dizzy vision like some paradise. He wants you to be mad, because it’d mean that you still care. It’d mean that you still think there’s something here to salvage between the two of you. 

But he’s engaged. And he’s having a baby. What was more final than that?

“So…are you marrying her because of–”

“The wedding is in four weeks,” he cuts you off, but he knows the statement answers your question regardless.

“Satoru…”

He leans off to the side a little to reach into the pocket of his suit pants, and he pulls out what is now a slightly bent envelope and he hands it to you. You take it from him gently, holding it weakly like it was something beyond you. Like something distant and foreign and strange. When all it was, is a wedding invitation. 

“Listen…” he starts.

He sees your eyes dazed as you stare at the lettering on the outside of the envelope.

“We’ve been friends for a long time, y/n. And I know the last time we saw each other was–” Hostile. Angry. Disappointing. Ended with you cussing him out on the street and then saying you never want to see him again. “...not ideal, but I still care a lot about you, and, uh, so, it would mean a lot to me if you came to the wedding.” For fucks sake, even on the brink of losing you forever, he still can’t find the right words to say. “Aiko, she–” He tastes bitter in his mouth, “well, I’ve told her a lot about you, and she’d really love it if you came as well.”

You’re silent as you gently peel back the opening of the letter and then pull out the small card stock invitation. The gold printed letters shine as you inspect it, fingers tracing the patterns of words that profess the Rei family’s intent to wed their daughter to Gojo Satoru. Your Gojo Satoru. Your best friend in this whole wide world. He watches your eyes carefully, but he can’t discern what he finds in them.

“Gojo Satoru…” you drone off, “to be wed. And to be a father.” Years of late night talks of the future, of kids and Christmas and love, with reality seemingly sly on the horizon only to have crept up so abruptly. It was pinched between your fingers right now. That reality.

His shoulders sulk slightly. And when you look up at him again, there’s a sheen of tears in your eyes.

“I can’t come to this,” you whisper, “and you know that, Satoru.”

His heart breaks. A physical pain that twists in his chest so tight at just the sight of seeing you sad. Sad again over the actions of his own. They say you always hurt the one you love, and he had always wondered what sort of evil person would do such a thing, only to find out he’s only ever hurt you this entire time. 

He should’ve kissed you that night the two of you met at graduation. Should’ve shut you up and all your existential questions by pinning you to a wall and pressing his lips against yours. He should’ve taken you to bed and fucked you, and then held you in his arms until you woke up in the morning. Should’ve listened to you talk his ear off about how he’s just like all the other guys, who pretend to care, but only want to have sex and then never to speak to the girl ever again. And he should’ve laid there in bed, nose nuzzled in your hair, taking all the scolding despite having no intent to ever leave you.

Instead, he wasted so much time. Sure, he had your friendship. His best friend for years, but the two of you could’ve been something more. Could’ve spent the years together, instead of writing stained letters or leaving messages on answering machines while the two of you were miles away. He could’ve been waking up with you every morning with the scent of your shampoo on his sheets, instead of clinging to pillows in foreign motel rooms. He could’ve been engaged to you, and he could be whispering sweet nothings in your ear of how much he wishes the baby will have your eyes. 

But his thoughts are lost in fantasy. He is what he’s done, nothing more and nothing less. His eyes fall to your lap, the invitation still held loosely in your hand, and then a droplet of water falls onto it.

“I–” you stutter, wiping at the tears spilling down your cheeks with a hesitant swipe of your hand, “I need to go.”

You stand up off the bench and he quickly stands up with you, grabbing your wrist to keep you here with him, and you halt but only with you facing away from him. He yanks at your wrist harshly, pulling you into him so his chest is flush to your back, his arms wrapping strongly around you and his nose nuzzling into your hair, breathing you in greedily like it’s the last time he’ll ever get the chance.

“Satoru–” you gasp, your hands immediately grabbing at his forearms that are tightly crossed across your collarbone. “What are you doing–” 

“Say it,” he whispers, gruff and impatient, “tell me to do it, and I will.”

“T-Tell you to do what?” you stutter, struggling a little in his hold but he only holds you tighter.

“Tell me to leave her, and I will,” he says, his lips brushing at your ear now, the scent of your perfume maddening to his senses, and one of his hands slowly trails down and the knuckle of his thumb presses into the softness of your breast.

You squirm, a small and soft moan leaving your lips.

“T–” you breathe in harshly, “this is wrong.” 

“I don’t care,” he growls, arms sliding lower to hold you under your breasts, so tightly that your heels lift off the ground. “Just say the word, and I’ll leave everything behind for you. I promise,” he breathes in deep, the desperation making his head hazy, “that I’ll do things right this time. Just you and me–” 

“You’re going to be a father,” you remind him, and he shuts his eyes closed tightly, the responsibility of the word bearing on his shoulders but his desire for you overshadows every shred of sense or dignity or integrity he has left in him, because he felt like he was losing his mind after wanting you for years just to never have you. 

He turns you around in his hold so that you face him, and he crashes his lips to yours, muffling the surprised mmf! that dies in your throat in surprise as his hands hold your waist, relishing in the feeling of satin fabric pulled taut over your curves.

Forbidden, yet a taste that he’ll risk because there was no curse that was worse than the fate of having to pine after you for years.

Ah.

But.

But it was all fantasy, this moment in his head, where he takes you on the freshly cut grass of this garden. 

Something that only briefly flashes through his mind as his warm hand wraps around your wrist, from where he was still seated on the stone bench, and not on his feet holding you like he dreamed for. Like he longed for.

He feels the weight of his arm so heavily, as if it weren’t his own, and he slowly lets go of your wrist.

When he looks up at you, there’s longing in your eyes. A hurt that he didn’t even know he was capable of causing, just for him to realize that you’ve always looked at him that way, and he’s never been keen enough to know it until now. He grew up too late. He took too long.

His phone starts buzzing in his pocket, and he reaches in for it, then flips it open and sees his soon-to-be-wife’s name on it. He feels nothing at the sight.

“Hello?” he speaks into the device when he holds it to his ear, and he sees you take a couple steps away, rubbing anxiously at your elbow as you pretend to busy yourself with the study of the lamp. “Yes, I’ll be there soon. I, uh, I’m just with a friend. A couple of friends, actually. We’re having drinks by the pond. Mhm. Yes. I will. Okay, see you soon. I—…I love you too. Bye.” And then he snaps the phone shut. 

“Heading back?” he hears you ask.

He stands. “I’ve got to.”

“Okay.” 

You two walk down the shrubbery of the garden that was arranged like a maze, him a few paces behind you, and he watches the delicate line of your posture as your hand brushes against the green walls of foliage that encase the two of you, the feeling of wanting to touch you and hold you almost suffocating. 

“Hey,” he calls out to you, and he shoves his hands in his suit pockets. You turn around immediately to face him, like his voice was permission to do so.

“Yes?” you ask.

He blinks up at the starry sky, and then looks at you again. The soft cast of distant warm lighting falls over your face, making you appear like a renaissance painting, similar to those that you would point out to him at museums when you two would see each other on holiday back in your early twenties. He could never understand the charm of those paintings, no matter how many times you tried to explain it to him, but seeing you in this light right now, he finally understands the beauty that you saw. 

“I’m, uh,” he rubs at the back of his neck, and then scoffs out a small laugh, “I’m a little drunk right now, but–” He stops himself. What was he trying to say? And was it of conscious mind? “I just need to tell you that…I really regret…not speaking to you. I mean, for letting the silence drag on for years. You’re my–...my best friend. We’re a pair, you know? The two of us. For years, people would ask me where you were. And why they haven’t seen us together at all recently. And it was hard to admit that we hadn’t spoken in years.”

You take the smallest of steps towards him, and look up at him with empty eyes. 

“What I’m trying to say is, is that, well,” he finds himself tripping over his words, “I miss you. And I miss our friendship. And–...I miss having you around.” He glances down at his shoes, polished and reflecting off the moonlight directly above him. He rocks back and forth on his heels ever so slightly. “I know you said that I piss you off to lengths unimaginable to my tiny pea-sized brain, but I can’t help myself, y/n,” he admits, “I think you and I, we’re just meant to always be. In some how, or some way…”

You purse your lips together, gaze shifting lower to eye at the silk of his tie. 

“Can we be friends again?” he asks, the words feeling juvenile on his tongue. Like whispered apologies between children on a playground after shoving one another onto wooden chips, except the wounds he’s left on you run much deeper than a superficial scrape. 

You blink slowly, tilting your head up at him. “Friends?”

“Friends.”

You wipe your palm off on the satin of your dress. “I missed you too, you know.”

His eyes widened slightly.

Your hand finds its way up your arm, until you weakly cup your elbow with your palm and look off to the side, avoiding eye contact with him. “There were so many years where I thought that there was something between us. And maybe I was foolish for thinking that way, that you would ever see me that way–”

“y/n,” he tries to interrupt you. 

“But…the pain of not having you the way I wanted to was much less worse than the pain of not having you at all,” you say, your gaze finally shifting towards him. “But, the thing is, I needed to feel that pain to get over you. I had to.”

His heart stills at those words.

You glance down at the ground now. “I missed being able to tell you things. To laugh, and cry, and argue. I miss humbling your stupid ego. I miss being able to call you at any time, knowing you’d pick up when I needed you.”

His heart aches so much he wants to reach into his chest and hold it.

“The thing is,” you continue, “you would’ve been the first person I would’ve run to to tell them that I lost my best friend.” There were tears shining in your eyes. “But what could I do when you were the one that I had lost? Who could I have turned to then?”

He lets out a shaky breath, and in a swift motion, his arm wraps around your waist and he pulls you to him in an embrace.

You’re stiff in his hold, mechanical and rigid, so contrary to the soft tears you leave behind on the fabric of his sleeve, but slowly and surely, you warm and thaw. Your hands slide up past his shoulders, linking behind his neck. And his head drops to the curve of your neck, swaying you with him slowly as if it were a first dance.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, “for hurting you.”

You breathe out slowly. “Just let me go, Satoru. Let me be free. Let me be free of you.”

He feels the air knock out of his lungs, and the two of you slowly pull your heads away from the embrace to look at one another, although your hands still find a place on his shoulders, and he still holds you close to him by a delicate hold of your waist. 

He wonders if in another life, you two were happy. He wonders if he could ever take back all the decisions he made, and start all over again. On that day the two of you met on that staircase in the west wing of the literature building, he would make a different choice. If he could, he would live in this lifetime of hell over and over again if it meant that in some other one, there exists a world where he never hurts you. 

“It’s time for me to go,” you whisper, eyes darting across the features of his face, studying them but with a familiarity that only you know, because you held his entire life in your palm. Your gaze meets his again, faces just inches apart, and the sweet curl of your eyelashes makes him weak in the knees. “It’s time.”

He nods slowly, his own eyes studying your face as well, except it looks foreign to him now. 

It’s all been said and done. There was nothing he could do to right the wrongs, or undo all the pain. He was to be a father now, and his duties were now towards his wife and unborn child. And no longer to the woman he holds in his arms, one he’s sure he will never stop loving for as long as he lives. 

It’s a sweet moment, the two of you gazing at one another. You look so pretty from this angle, looking up at him with the smallest tilt to your head and round searching eyes. His head subconsciously dips down towards yours in the second that he glances at your lips, but he stops himself. And when you make no move to create distance, he finds himself closing it again, until his lips brush against yours ever so softly. And then he captures them in a kiss, firm and unmistaken, finding solace in the way your lips move against his too, unsure yet passionately at the same time. Your fingers ever so slightly dig into his shoulders while his thumbs soothe at the skin of your waist, the two of you savoring the last moments of a kiss that’ll be the sweetest one you’ll ever know.

You pull away first, a small puff of air leaving your lips as you glance downwards. He rests his forehead against yours, never once looking away from your face. And you both breathe slowly, the soul of the chaste kiss entirely vanishing into the air along with all the hope that the two of you had left to make anything of the way you feel about one another. It was a kiss that almost disqualified any level of sin or guilt or wrong, because it was like one you two owed each other, after years of familiarity and longing. It was the goodbye that the two of you deserved.

His hands slowly let go of your waist, and he takes a step back away from you, softly clearing his throat. The distance feels like a galaxy away, and he briefly runs his thumb along his bottom lip, because the ghostly feeling of your lips on his still remains. 

“Shall we head back?” you ask him, prim and proper in posture and eyes widened in a formal gaze.

His lips are parted, and he finds that he’s panting slightly. And then he slowly nods his head. “Yes.”

.

.

.

[the end] 

a/n. i am sooooo freaking obsessed w "one day" by david nicholls and really wanted to write something inspired by it!! the book literally ripped my heart out and stomped on it like there were so many scenes where i just longingly stared out the window because of how shattering it was but dear god i really enjoyed it, and the show was also so dfkjhsfkhs i had sm feels watching it. so yea this was fun to write!! i hope you enjoyedd n thanks so much for reading :)

➸ masterlist

[flagellant]

For the past few years I've been enchanted by the idea of the divine as intrinsically horrific and dehumanizing, but not in the usual assumption (pun intended), where the intrinsic dehumanization and horror comes from something like "A god looked at me and I turned into stone" or "I, a mortal, looked at a god and got turned into a laurel tree".

I've been thinking about it in the opposite direction. Where being a god is intrinsically horrific and dehumanizing.

To put it another way: I've been writing a lot from the perspective of divinity where the god experiences godhood in the way a haunted house experiences househood. You were created by mortals for comfort, for condolence, for safety, for sympathy. You were built with all the care and special attention to ensure that you would last a long time--longer than your inhabitants would live, but that's fine, because they'll leave you descendants.

Except you, unlike the average house, have a brain. Have hands. Have a stomach which can hunger but never starve. You cannot die, but you know what death is. You see humans and raccoons and spiders and trees and rocks and everything else in this whole world die all the time, but it will not touch you.

How many years do you think it takes before your mouth starts to salivate like your gut's gone sour? How many endings do you have to witness before you begin to stop caring when things you paid attention to die? How many times do you hear your name contort and twist under the weight of different empires' languages before you stop recognizing it as yours anymore, and cease answering when they call?

How long does it take before you stop being capable of interacting with the rest of the world in a way that a person can understand, can safely comprehend, would ever want to experience?

And how much of that, do you think, do you let happen on purpose, because the alternatives were all too much to even begin to imagine after one too many mountains turned to sand before your eyes?