mimi-111

[mimi-111]

bc i feel like it was glossed over and moved away from too quickly, what if we up the angst with calebmc a little bit. in the past, mc had no problem eagerly devouring whatever plate of food caleb put in front of her without question, but now? theyre still on shaky ground and he offers to cook her dinner whenever he's in linkon, but now, there's that little whisper in the back of her mind of "what if?"

after skyhaven, she finds that she can't eat or drink anything that she didn't prepare. no takeout, no frozen dinners. she can't even bring herself to eat zayne's or sylus' cooking bc again, what if? she trusts them with her life, but she also trusted caleb and look what he ended up doing in the name of "keeping her safe"

[mimi-111]

Omg

Rockstar AU Ivantill

(I just finished this as the new ALNST comic came out too rip)

[mimi-111]

Absolute cinema

⋆.˚✮ thunderstruck 🤍 xavier 星回 ✮˚.⋆

⋆.˚✮pairing: bad boy/punk xavier x reader

⋆.˚✮word count: 6.2k

⋆.˚✮summary: popular among girls, distant and intimidating troublemaker—that’s how others saw him. gentle, charming and intelligent boy, who had no idea what personal space was—that’s how you knew him. and although the truth lied somewhere in between, one thing was certain: xavier would do anything to finally make you his. starting with asking you out, of course.

⋆.˚✮tags: bad boy xavier, punk xavier, college setting, kinda meet cute, but more like talking to each other for the first time cute, self-confident xavier, but also shy xavier, the duality of this man is insane, he has TATTOOS, and PIERCING, and he’s so djbdgdsb yess yess, i did it for myself i’m sorry, smoker xavier, but not for long hehehihi, he’s a gentleman, and totally whipped, like, absolutely whipped for the reader, sfw, yet!! if i continue it it would turn mdni for sure.

please let me know if u liked it and if u would be interested in reading more <33

“Aaaand he’s looking at you again.” Simone snapped you out of your thoughts, making your fingers stop their frantic movements over the keyboard. The two of you were sitting at the campus café, desperate to finish your assignments as quickly as you possibly could, thinking that each other’s company and your favorite sweet drinks might make the work at least a little bit more enjoyable.

And it actually worked—you were almost done with your essay, and judging by your friend’s relaxed posture and the fact that she had time to observe her surroundings, she must’ve finished hers too.

“Hmm? Who?” You asked with a small smile, noticing how the cream from her coffee sat above her upper lip, creating the illusion of a thin mustache and making her look like a cute little detective. You pulled out a napkin from the holder and brought it to her lips, muffling her next words in the process.

“Xavier, that punk guy who—oh, thank you, baby, it always makes me look like Freddie Mercury—who studies some kind of engineering.” You laughed softly at her added comment and placed the dirty napkin on your small, empty plate. “Girl, you heard what I said? Xavier. That Xavier has literally been drilling a hole in your head for the past hour or so, with those sexy—like, dangerously sexy—eyes of his. And that—that piercing—and, and, you know what? You don’t seem concerned in the slightest, what if he’s like, mad at you or something? He always looks kinda scary. Sexy-scary, but still.” The last sentence said in a whisper, and you snorted, picking up your iced drink and taking a slow sip.

“Oookay, I think I’ve heard enough.” You laughed and shook your head, one hand returning to the keyboard to save your file. “He’s not mad at me. I know him. If he’s looking our way, he probably recognized me, but is too shy to say hi.” You finished your drink with not-so-quiet slurp, your lips immediately letting go of the straw as you looked around bashfully, hoping no one had noticed.

“Too shy? Have you lost your mind? Or are there more scary-looking Xaviers around campus that I don’t know about?” She leaned forward, lowering her voice, and you closed your laptop with a sigh. You didn’t like that she called him scary, you always thought his usual pout, scowl or mask of indifference made him look kinda cute.

You checked the time on your phone and noticed that one of your electives was starting in 20 minutes—if you wanted to be there on time, you’d have to leave in a second.

“Besides, you know him? Since when?”

“Remember that one poetry elective I had to take last semester? We had a group project as the final assignment, and he was part of my group.” You watched with amusement as her mouth opened in shock, her brows furrowing. “And he’s actually really sweet. And smart, too, just not that much of a talker.” You shrugged, your eyes dropping as you remembered how the other group members had acted toward him back then.

How they talked behind his back, assuming he wouldn’t do his part of the project. How they doubted his abilities and overall academic competence as a conversation starter when he was sometimes late to meetings—and how quiet and reserved they became when he finally joined you.

You quickly got angry on his behalf, knowing that he had never been rude or disrespectful to any of you, and every single task he was assigned was sent to the group chat just a couple hours later. The fact that they treated him that way because of some rumor about him being a troublemaker, and his eye-catching, rough appearance, was what made you finally speak up.

“—He’s kind of a lost cause. He wouldn’t finish it anyway. What a guy like him can know about poetry? I’m surprised he can read at all.” One of the guys from the group commented again, taking advantage of Xavier’s absence. The meeting had just started, and you were sure he would come—just a tad bit later. You always assumed he had a class beforehand, but he never said anything when he realized that this particular hour suited the rest of you best.

He was always like this, you’d noticed it some time ago. He never wanted to cause any issues, always silently accepting and diligently working on whatever task was assigned to him. And yet, at nearly every meeting, he was dragged under the bus before he even had a chance to show up.

Their reactions surprised you a lot. You didn’t know Xavier personally before, but you knew of him, it was hard not to. He had a reputation as a reserved troublemaker and was extremely popular among girls, who seemed to try asking him out— or at least getting a good make-out session—probably every day, always without success. Ironically, that only made him a more intriguing target. He had the face of an angel, a body decorated like a fallen one, and the physique of an athlete, all on top of being seemingly unobtainable. Girls were totally head over heels for him, which actually made you pity him, knowing how much unwanted attention it probably brought.

And although he was pretty introverted and a little rough around the edges, people generally seemed to like him. He was intimidating, and he spoke his mind surely, but he didn’t seem like someone who went around looking for a fight. Within your project group, he was usually quiet and cooperative, which is why you couldn’t understand why they were suddenly being so harsh toward him.

That’s why on that day, you finally snapped.

“Oh, shut up, Matt. What do you know about poetry anyway? Most of us are here just because it fit our schedules.” You stood up from the table in the park, your designated meeting place, your hands pressing firmly against the polished wood. You couldn’t listen to Xavier being dragged anymore, judged solely on his appearance, when you knew he was actually quite engaged in the project. “And yes, maybe he’s a little late sometimes but he always shows up, and does the work perfectly. Besides, he’s never been rude to any of you, so I don’t understand why you’re always so awful to him.” Your face, and the slightly harsher edge to your voice, betrayed your annoyance, but you had finally lost the patience to care about their opinion of you.

Some of the girls who had been too afraid to speak up smiled at you encouragingly, while the main bully just shrugged, looking up at you nonchalantly with one arm draped over the back of the chair beside him.

“He looks like bad news. And gets on my nerves.” He answered simply, and if you weren’t red from anger before, you sure were now. “And he probably sells drugs or some—”

“And you look like a complete asshole right now.” You snapped, already frantically stuffing your notes into your bag. You refused to hear any more of this, not about a boy who had literally done nothing wrong to deserve such harsh words every time you met. “And you shouldn’t fucking care what he looks like. From what we know, he’s hard-working and smart, and he definitely has feelings, too. He deserves basic human respect, don’t you think?” You slung your bag over your shoulder and shot the guy another glare, completely ignoring their stares—which were definitely no longer aimed at you—and the quiet shadow that had appeared behind you some time ago. “I’ll send you the file by the end of the week. I won’t sit around, wasting time with someone who’d rather talk shit than do actual work. Now, if you’ll excuse m—”

Bump.

Your body bounced off a hard chest clad in a leather jacked, and by the time strong, tattooed hands gently grabbed your shoulders to steady you, you were already blushing.

Because Xavier was right there behind you. For God knows how long.

You snapped your head up, your panicked eyes meeting his deep blues—calm, gentle and understanding— as he continued to hold your shoulders, even though he must’ve know you had already gained your balance. You studied him for a moment: his longish hair, a mullet peeking out from the leather collar of his jacket, and ears adorned with various piercings. Your gaze drifted to his lips, drawn absentmindedly to the small silver ring on the side of his bottom lip, which he was now biting slightly.

Oh, God. Oh, God, oh, God, oh, God, oh, God—

“S—Sorry, I was just—leaving—” You said quickly, your eyes suddenly finding the grass fascinating. You could still feel the warmth of his hands lingering on your shoulders, along with the fresh, calming scent of a fabric softener mixed with something so uniquely comforting—

“I’ll walk you home, then.” His hands traveled slowly down your arms before he let go, your cheeks burning as you avoided his gaze at all costs. It was probably the first time he had spoken to you directly, spoken to any of you directly, really. His soft voice was usually directed at no one in particular, offering sparse but meaningful comments during your brainstorming sessions.

How much had he heard? Was he angry? He didn’t look angry. Why did he want to walk you home? He never walked any of you home.

“No! I mean, no—no, thank you, that’s so nice of you, Xavier, really, but I live pretty close by. You shouldn’t bother.” He adjusted the strap of his bag on his shoulder, and you noticed him turning his head toward the others.

“I could never be bothered by—Did you just fucking roll your eyes at her?” His calm voice suddenly turned cold, the tone not raised, but much sharper. Your head turned to the person he was now staring at, and you saw Matt’s eyes widen. “I asked you a fucking question. Did you roll your eyes at her?”

“And if I did then what are you going to do? Beat me up?”

“Wow, really Matt? You’re such a child.” You turned to him fully, but an arm blocked your way, an intricate tattoo depicting the moon cycle peeking from one rolled up sleeve.

“Apologize to her and you won’t have to find out.” You looked up at Xavier and almost smiled, noticing how the role of protector had flipped. But the intense stare he used to size up the annoying colleague made the hairs on the back of your nape stand on end. He sure looked intimidating when he wanted to. “I said, apologize.”

And when the silence began to stretch, and Xavier took a deliberate step forward, you grabbed his bicep, surprisingly firm and muscular, oh wow, and started to lead him away, afraid the conversation would turn sour in a matter of seconds.

Letting him walk you home wasn’t such a bad idea after all, you decided, feeling the sweat nearly drip from your temple.

“Wait, he didn’t apologize to you yet, and I won’t let him get away until he does.” You heard Xavier’s voice a step behind you but decided to continue your path, until you reached a safer distance.

“It’s okay. I’m not accepting apologies from ignorant jerks, anyway.” You heard a soft huff of laughter from him, and your lips curved into a small smile. Your steps slowed a moment later, and you took a deep breath, watching the clouds drift slowly across the sky while the gentle wind eased the burn of your cheeks. “Were you really planning to fight him?”

He was walking beside you now, your hand no longer holding his arm, and when you finally looked his way, you were startled to find him already watching you.

You could understand why people were wary of him—when he was right there beside you, his overall size was pretty intimidating. He towered over you an impressive amount of inches, and his body type, which you used to think was rather lanky, turned out to be more on the athletic side. With his lip and ear piercings, and now, clearly, an eyebrow piercing too, two small dots on either side of his eyebrow, paired with several tattoos on his hands and his rather muted wardrobe choice, he could raise some concerns.

Could, but didn’t have to. Not when his eyes were so gentle and kind, looking at you as if you had hung all the stars in the sky. To you, he looked like a prince: gentle features, silky-soft hair and a graceful stance that made him, ironically, the least intimidating person you’d met. It actually struck you how handsome he was, too. Much more handsome up close than from the distance, your heart fluttered nervously.

“Hmm. He disrespected you so, yes. Probably. It’s better to let him think I would. I usually don’t start fights.” Was his answer, his steps matching your pace, heavy, black combat boots stepping silently beside your white sneakers. You felt a tug at your arm, and before you could protest, he started carrying your handbag along his. All your protests died in your throat the moment he looked at you and shook his head. Message received. “I only end them.” Xavier added like an afterthought, and it didn’t sound like bragging but more like stating a fact. You laughed quietly and nodded, unsure what to say as your mind drifted back to the events from moments ago.

“I’m sorry for—”

“Thank you—”

You both started to speak at the same time and quickly stopped, a nervous laugh escaping from you. You looked at him again and noticed that his eyes were crinkled at the corners too. He adjusted his handbag on his shoulder and cleared his throat.

“Forgive me, but I’ll start. Because you have nothing to apologize for.” A sigh left your lips, and you started playing with your fingers, his answer easing your worries. He looked straight ahead when he spoke again. “I heard what you said to them. How you protected me. You didn’t have to do that.”

“No, I did. It wasn’t the first time they said such things and I should’ve spoken my mind much, much sooner.” You started speaking, annoyed again, the nearly forgotten rage rising inside you once more. “You were nothing short of helpful and kind to us and it was a pleasure to work with you! I just couldn’t listen to him spouting nonsense anymore.”

And when you tried to meet his eyes again, you noticed the tips of his ears were red.

“It was a pleasure to work with you, too.” His voice like a balm to your irritation, every single second spent in his presence confirming your beliefs about him being a secret sweetheart. “But I’m used to people taking shit about me, actually. And I really don’t care what they think.”

“Well, it’s good. You shouldn’t.” His lip piercing caught your eye again, and you decided it suit him very well. You also noticed that you had slowed down, but this time you were matching the pace he set. “But it doesn’t make it fine. So next time, stand up for yourself too, okay? You were quick to do that for me, so it shouldn’t be much of a problem to treat yourself with the same kindness, right?”

Xavier’s eyes suddenly met yours, his mouth opening and closing slightly as if he couldn’t find the right words to say. The tips of his ears were red, and he put a hand behind his back, stroking at the skin lightly, nervously.

“Mhm. Right.” His eyes drifted to your face, studying it intently. You found his gaze extremely intense, peeking from behind his silver strands, but you didn’t mind. His presence was actually very calming, both his voice and body language relaxed and almost dreamy-like.

Xavier stopped suddenly, making you wonder if he had forgotten something, or if your conversation was over, and he was about to return your bag and head his own way. Instead, he leaned toward you, took your hand in his—his touch feather-light, your fingers cradled gently in his—and he brought it up to his lips.

A kiss. Gentle one, but lingering, pressed just below your knuckles. You felt the warmth of his lips and the cool touch of the metal ring against your skin, and you swallowed hard the moment he opened his eyes and looked straight at you.

And it was a look you would reminisce about for weeks to come, because of how seen you felt right in that very moment. The clouds continued their never-ending journey across the sky, and the birds chirped a melody to which you were usually unaware. A look resembling a full conversation. A look holding meaning, one that you weren’t sure you were able to grasp yet.

“Thank you, my sweet little knight.” He whispered against your skin, and you gulped, your heart racing, mind blanking for a short while. “It seems I gained my own guardian angel today.” And when you saw how genuine he was, your body melted into his touch completely, your chest swelling with the quiet pride of knowing you did something good today.

“Anytime, princess.”

And when your ears caught his sudden, bubbly laugh, short canines on full display, that seemed to surprise even him, you didn’t let it become forgotten for the months to come, keeping the sound close to your heart.

You remembered the first day you actually talked to each other other and smiled softly; the walk home filled with interesting stories and shared laughter, the intimidating bubble he’d once seemed trapped in popped the moment you spent real time with him, leaving only the image of a sweet gentleman behind.

It wasn’t the only time you talked either, although after the elective course had ended your ways parted completely: your interactions scarce and happening usually when you were in a rush, or already late, to your classes.

A smile on your lips, followed by a happy wave of your hand met with the surprised, gentle spark in his eyes, and you were already gone.

There were only a handful of times you’d managed to exchange a word or two—usually while waiting in line at the coffee machine, with him asking about your major and interests, or when you were passing by him in the library, where you’d quickly complimented his new tattoo: a constellation on his forearm, still covered by a piece of second skin.

Quick, fleeting interactions; nothing more.

However, you found yourself thinking about him sometimes. About his melodic voice, a gentleness serving a sharp contrast to how rough he could’ve seemed to others. His soft hair, how you wondered what it would feel like to bury your fingers in it and stroke the strands gently. His lean but muscular build, his strong arms adorned with ink—art so majestic you found it hard to look away sometimes, your mind wandering, wondering if he had more tattoos on other parts of his body, and if so, where would they be hidden? And what would they depict?

His lips, soft pink hue, decorated with a silver ring, the coolness of which you already felt when he kissed your hand that day. And on the most desperate of nights, you let your mind imagine how it would feel pressed against your lips.

You shook your head, the thoughts unwanted and totally unnecessary, knowing that it was just a fleeting acquaintance. You couldn’t like him that way, because you knew that you surely weren’t his type at all. You weren’t even sure why your mind started thinking about him in such a way, your type being usually the complete opposite. But you guessed that it was just because of how charming he was, how clever and funny, how awkward at times. How kind to you. And how absolutely gorgeous his eyes were—always looking at you with patience and an interesting kind of wonder.

It didn’t matter. You were only colleagues, and he was too popular and too different from you to actually be interested. So, you stopped thinking about it some time ago.

“‘Not that much of a talker,’ she says. I never—never!—heard him talk. And I had few electives with him, mind you.” The voice of your friend brought you back from wonderland. You decided not to answer anything to that, thinking that if you told her that he was the one who usually initiated conversations with you, she would probably have a stroke. “You are one lucky girl. You have your own guard dog now.”

“Yeah. Maybe.” You answered absentmindedly, not liking that label. “Or the other way around. I can be feisty.” You imitated shooting from your finger guns, and she laughed, raising her almost empty cup.

“Cheers to that!” You raised your empty cup too while throwing your laptop into your bag. “He’s still staring by the way. Hasn’t really stopped since I noticed. It would be really creepy if he wasn’t that handsome.” You snorted, zipping up your bag and looking down at your phone.

“I told you, he probably just wants to say—Oh, shit! Gotta go! The classes start in 10 and I mixed up the buildings again!”

“Oh, shoot, is that the one at the end of—?” You nodded frantically and she waved her hand dismissively. “Go! I’ll take care of your cup, see you later!” You quickly went to her and hugged her, pressing a quick kiss to her cheek before practically flying out of the café, completely forgetting to send Xavier a small wave on your way out, if he really was sitting somewhere behind you.

That’s why you also missed how abruptly he stood the moment you bolted for the door—wanting to chase after you, but stoping himself when he realized you didn’t even have time for a small talk. He should’ve approached you sooner, should’ve spoken to you the moment he saw you, instead of just sitting there, desperately trying to catch a glimpse of your angelic smile.

He wondered when did he loose his balls, when even the simple idea of talking to you made his heart flutter nervously, his hands automatically reaching to scratch at the ink submerged in his skin. He was pathetic, and it was really starting to get on his nerves.

And at that moment his eyes locked with those of your friend, her lips slowly curling into a knowing smile as she caught him almost running after you. She wiggled her eyebrows at him, and in that instant he finally decided to stop being a coward.

He couldn’t bear the thought of not seeing you everyday anymore.

He grabbed his bag and started walking purposely to the place which you occupied only moments before. He needed information and he would get it, even if he would have to beg for it.

“Oho. I knew it.” Your friend said, seconds before he even managed to introduce himself.

And he realized that he’d known it too. Almost from the moment he first saw you.

You were exhausted to say the least.

Your classes dragged on, making your head hurt from staring at the constantly changing slides. Your whole body felt sore, and you stretched the moment you reached the lockers—arms raised, back arched, a moan almost escaping your lips.

Your poor legs practically begged for the short trip back to your apartment, if the slight numbness in them wasn’t already enough of a sign of stagnation.

You opened your eyes lazily and turned the key in your locker, wanting to gather your things as quickly as possible and finally see the light of day.

“Hey.” A low greeting from right behind you made you spin around too quickly, your back bumping against the locker. It startled you when you noticed how close he was standing, towering over you.

Xavier.

In all his tattooed glory, hair unruly as always, and his pretty eyes boring straight into yours. He hissed when you made contact with the locker, his large hand immediately coming to rest on the back of your head, gently caressing it, afraid you had taken the hit. You blushed, the contact sudden and unexpected, his body possibly closer to yours than ever before.

“Are you okay?” The hand on the back of your head slid down slightly, now resting on the nape of your neck. The hold was gentle, intimate. You wondered if he realized it. “I didn’t mean to scare you, I’m sorry.” His thumb stroked the skin on your neck, and your cheeks caught fire.

You gulped and shook your head, sighing as the tension in your shoulders eased when you saw his familiar face.

“It’s okay. I’m not hurt, and I didn’t hit my head, so don’t worry.” His expression visibly shifted, relief written all over his face. But his hand didn’t leave your neck. “Sorry, hi. Hi. I just didn’t expect you here.” You didn’t expect anyone really, it was already late for classes and if any were to take place, everyone would already be inside classrooms.

His presence was especially puzzling, it wasn’t even his faculty, did he had another elective here?

“I wanted to see you.” Straightforward answer, as usual. You send him a small smile, thinking back to earlier when you almost met at the café; if it hadn’t been for you being in such a hurry. He must’ve felt bad for not coming up to you, especially since he probably waited for you to finish your classes. But why did he care so much? “And I was actually thinking… Hoping that…” His hand slid away from the back of your neck and began playing absentmindedly with a strand of your hair, while you struggled to keep the blush from darkening your cheeks even further.

He was so close. Too close. You could almost feel his breath warming up your face and see your reflection staring back from the little silver dots in his eyebrow. An inch or two more, and you were sure his hair would brush your forehead, given how much he was leaning into your space.

But he was always like this whenever you two crossed paths—his body leaning in too close to be just friendly, paying no mind to your personal space. His hands were also always reaching out for you as if he couldn’t help it: fixing the hair that fell into your face, stroking your arm, or even occasionally brushing your nose with his knuckle when you said something that made him chuckle.

You thought this was his way of being friendly and you enjoyed it, ignoring the fact that it only seemed to fuel your silly little crush. Besides, you found it very endearing that he was so distant and cold with others, yet so touchy-feely with the ones he liked. It made you feel special, if not a little hopeful.

And that’s when the sharp smell hit you, a cigarette smoke mixed with his pleasant, soft cologne. You scrunched up your nose and pressed a hand against his chest to create some more distance between you.

“Oof, you smoked again.” You couldn’t help but comment, seeing his brows furrowing in confusion upon your slight push of his chest.

“You can still smell it? I even got some gum.” To prove his point, he blew a small bubble from his lips, a minty scent reaching your nose when he popped it a second later, the corners of his lips lifting in a small, proud smirk.

“It’s all over your clothes, Xavier. The smoke seeped right into them. You need a bath, not a gum.” Quiet, unserious little “ouch” left his lips, and you tugged at his black sweatshirt, only now noticing a small cat plushie hanging from one of his sleeves.

So cute. You loved that accent, your finger going to poke at the accessory with an exaggerated sigh. “How could you do it to this adorable little thing?”

“It’ll live. Always does.” His eyes followed your finger still gently touching the plushie, “He’s a tough guy, can handle a bit of smoke. He’d take a drag too if he could, probably.” You sent him a half-serious glare and pulled your hand away from his arm, signaling defeat. You noticed he was still standing right where you had pushed him back to, more mindful of your space.

You turned your back to him to open your locker again, and pulled out your bag, along with your light jacket. However, before you could even sling the bag over your shoulder, he already grabbed hold of it, his fingers brushing against yours in the process.

“Does it bother you?” Xavier asked, his voice unsure, your bag already on his arm. The pastel-colored plushies hanging from it were a sharp contrast to his appearance. You looked at him again after making sure you had closed the locker. “The smell of smoke, I mean.” His beautiful blues bore into your eyes, his teeth biting at the lip ring nervously.

“Well, I can’t say I like it. I don’t think anyone really does.” He looked at you like a scolded puppy, his hair falling into his eyes when he turned his head to the side. “But it’s your choice, really, I can’t tell you how you should live. It’s just… really sad to know that you’re destroying your lungs daily.”

“Hmm, yeah. It is pretty sad.” Although a pout marked Xavier’s face now, you noticed a slight playfulness in his voice. Then, a sudden spark appeared in his eyes, as if an idea had just formed in his mind. “I could die. You wouldn’t want that to happen, am I right?” He leaned toward you again, one hand placed beside your head, his body almost trapping you against the lockers, your back pressed to the cool metal again. His fingers stroked your wrist, then trailed up to your forearm, his stormy blue eyes following the movement attentively.

“Y—You’re acting weird.” You commented weakly, your heart increasing its beating against your chest. He was so close, too close, his body towering over yours, making you see only him. You nervously looked around, hoping no one saw you, but you already knew you were alone. “Of course I wouldn’t, but—” You wanted to comment on his unusual boldness, ask a question to why was he suddenly acting like this, but he cut you off before you could say another word.

“I’ll quit, then.” His face so close you could smell the mint of the gum and feel the coldness of his breath on your cheek. You trembled unconsciously. “I don’t want you to be worried. But, I think I would like to ask for something in exchange.”

“Ah, so that’s what it’s all about, you’re cozying up to me because you want someth—”

“A date.” Your mouth closed instantly, eyes meeting his in shock. “There’s this gig that I would love to take you to, this weekend. Open-air, starts at midnight. We could—we could grab a bite too right before it starts? If you’d want to, of course.” You watched as his confidence slowly melted as he was speaking, voice trembling nervously at times, the tips of his ears turning red.

It was probably the longest reply he ever gave you, his sentences usually short and precise. And as you stared at him in disbelief, at his red ears and lip that he was now nervously biting despite acting so tough moments before, your chest filled with a warm, fuzzy feeling of your affections being reciprocated.

He was asking you out on a date.

Xavier, that Xavier: hot, intimidating, unbothered, extremely popular and seemingly unapproachable in the eyes of others.

Xavier, an intelligent, soft, socially awkward and extremely sweet little crush of yours was asking you out on a date.

You had to force yourself not to squeal, the idea that he found you attractive too making you nearly melt right into his chest, that seemed to be getting closer and closer with every second. You were both so different from each other, how could you predict that you actually had a chance with him? You thought that your quick, daily encounters was only him being nice, maybe excited to have a new friend.

Your lips curled into a smile, eyes sparkling with excitement you couldn’t contain.

“Is it that band you were talking about last week?” The memory of catching him staring excitedly at his phone right before you approached him during one of your short class breaks was still fresh in your mind. His fingers had been fidgeting with the cap he wore that day, turning it around as he leaned in to show you the newly added dates—one of which was very close to Linkon.

“Yeah. My favorite one.” He was getting more and more nervous, his hand was touching the nape of his neck now. “And I know these things can be loud and stuffy but I would protect you. You’d be safe with me, I swear, I wouldn’t let anyone else—”

“Okay.”

“Okay?” His head lowered even closer, the tips of your noses nearly touching. His eyes half-lidded, gazing down at you, his heart skipping a beat.

“Mhm. I would love to go with you.” Afraid to stumble over your words, your answer a gentle whisper. “Even without you quitting smoking. Buuut, it’s a really nice bonus.” Xavier chuckled, his head dropping to bring his lips closer to your ear.

“That so?” You had no idea, but he hid his head from your gaze for the widest of smiles to appear on his face. He closed his eyes and let himself bask in your closeness and sweet scent, mentally thankful for his burst of confidence earlier. “Then maybe the whole quitting thing isn’t really necessary?”

“Ah-ah. No takesies backsies—”

“No wha—”

“A promise is a promise.” You stated surely, your finger pressing on his chest as a warning. If he said he’ll quit, he better have to quit. Especially since now the possibility of him being closer to you daily has increased immensely. “If you want to reach for a cigarette now, you better pop in some gum. Or some candy, or ask for a—”

“Kiss?”

Your head turned his way just as his forehead rested on your shoulder. One eye opened, staring at you, a smirk lingering on his lips, the piercing there once again catching your attention.

Would you feel it when his mouth finally pressed to yours? Would it be forceful and bruising, or would he take his time, easing you into it with soft patience? He was a walking enigma, shy and gentle one moment, confident and quick the next. What side of him would you uncover if you let yourself get closer?

“Don’t overthink it or I might actually take your silence as a yes.” You breath hitched the moment he turned his head and you felt his lips touching the skin below your ear. Not a kiss, just a fleeting warmth of his mouth, the coolness of the ring causing goosebumps to appear on your skin. He took a step back, taking all the warmth away and you nearly chased after him to bring it back.

What was he doing to you?

His knuckles brushed your flushed cheek, and your eyelashes fluttered, the touch once again unexpected.

“First, you have to keep your end of the deal. Then we’ll see.” You learned that you were a literal, freaking master at feigning confidence, given how weak your legs felt and how much you wanted to pass out while meeting his affectionate gaze.

His face was slightly flushed too. Clearly affected, despite his confident demeanor. Maybe you weren’t that different from each other, after all.

“We will.” Xavier wet his lips, the tip of his pink tongue barely peeking out before his teeth sank into the plush skin— like he was already imagining how it would feel like. Maybe holding himself back from satisfying his curiosity right then and there. “I’ll make sure we will. Wouldn’t dare to miss the chance, angel.”

And when he walked you home that day, your bag swinging from his broad shoulder and your fingers brushing from time to time, sending pleasant sparks between you—you realized that, despite your differences, you’d never felt such a connection with anyone before. Talking with him was so easy, the way the walk home felt too short not to miss the comforting presence of his for hours after. And you were sure he felt the same, from the way he joked about not giving your bag back, to the goodbye hug you initiated, but he prolonged, his strong arms wrapping gently around your waist, reluctant to let go. And then there was the longing glance he gave you, just seconds before you closed the door.

A sharp ping of a new message cut through the air not long after, a string of new numbers followed by a simple sentences, ones that made your heart beat faster again.

keep thinking that I shouldve made up some lame excuse just to spend more time with U. The cat plushie said he misses U. I didn’t know he could read my mind — Xavier

And with a chuckle and a blush, you already knew that you were slowly falling in love—and you just hoped that when it fully bloomed, he would be there to help you care for it.

As for the kiss—the weekend couldn’t come soon enough.

🤍 if you liked it, you can support me here! https://ko-fi.com/kitimeq <3

every single one counts, it helps me grow and makes me feel that writing is not a waste of time!! <3

please like, reblog and COMMENT if u liked it!! i would love to know if i should continue it—i wrote it as a quick, cute bad boy xavier story. i would love to make it mdni ofc skdhshdg <33

[mimi-111]

wolves among the flock

It'd be easier to realize you were a wolf in sheep's clothing, clinging to the loyal dog that tended to the flock.

pairing: Caleb x Fem!Reader/MC wc: 4.5k tw/tags: codependency, obsession, possessiveness, self-doubt/insecurity. MC frequently described as unsettling. judgment/gossip from outside characters about MC. brief mention of violence (caleb towards side character). angst. brief suggestive themes. a/n: this is really a character study of MC and her relationship with caleb while growing up alongside him. I'm fascinated by the idea of her being seen as unsettling, based on anecdotes on how she used to be a blank slate in the lab. this fic digs into dark themes and explores MC's doubt around her place in Caleb's life, so be warned if those things may upset you <3 cross-posted on ao3 || masterlist

Something has always been wrong with you.

You feel it. Deep in your soul, coiling through the blood in your veins, thrumming under your skin. You hope it doesn't show in the unblinking nature of your watchful eyes, in the way your teeth bare a little too much when you try to smile like the other kids do.

But they see through it. They all do.

The whispers follow your steps down the school hallways. You hear that something's missing in the hushed cadence of Grandma whispering into the phone's receiver.

You sit on the top of the stairs, hidden in the shadows, knees pulled to your chest as you wonder what weight those soft words carry. What silent statements are being exchanged when looks are shared between your teacher and your guardian at school conferences.

"She has some of the top scores in her class. She's a smart kid," they say, and hesitate. "Just…quiet."

Gran nods, and smiles down at you. A tight-lipped smile, with almost enough reassurance in her eyes to outshine that assessment, that disappointment. Trying to figure out what was wrong. How to fix it.

On the playground, you draw circles in the sand with a stick. The kids take wider circles around you. A large berth to evade that vacant look in your eyes, in case it was contagious.

Maybe it was.

Who knows? Maybe they'd catch it if they got too close.

If one of them touched you, maybe they'd be like you. All empty eyes and unsettling smile.

Or maybe you'd just suck all the life out of them. Maybe—

"Pipsqueak!"

Your head lifts, eyes finding your sun.

There he stands, at the center of everything, with scraped knees and a band-aid across a lightly freckled nose. His hair is in desperate need of a trim, a smudge of dirt on his cheek from roughhousing with the other kids, the ones closer to his age. The ones who Gran encourages him to spend more time with.

So he does. Because if he doesn't, he'll have scheduled playdates. He'll be taken away from you for an afternoon, or a whole day.

Instead, he gives it ten minutes of playtime. You feel listless, floating in empty space, but you wait. You try not to count the seconds in your head until he returns, tugging you gently back into his orbit.

His fingers wiggle out towards you, and your eyes—too expressionless, too empty, too wrong—flash down to his hand, extended to you this whole time.

Waiting for you to drain his life too.

You hesitate.

He catches it, the slight shift of your smaller body away from him, and he frowns. His other hand rests on his knee, leaning towards you, hand thrust right in front of your eyes. He keeps waving it right there each time you try to turn away.

"Pips, c'mon," he encourages, poking you in your round, freckled cheek.

A smile catches on his face when you huff, and your lips feel like they're tugged up by gravity in return. You think about blaming him for using his Evol, but it's not that. It's just him.

Your Caleb, easing that baring of teeth into something softer. Something less wrong.

He'll catch it, you think when you lift your hand. You stop. He'll catch all that wrong if you're not careful.

That's what all the other kids say. They talk about it when you're in the back of the class, not noticing you in the dark, waiting for your sun to return.

Poor Caleb, they say. All that light with the shadow trailing behind. His brilliant galaxy eyes mirrored by the wide, unblinking stare peering around from behind him. Couldn't get rid of her if he tried.

The gentle call of your name has you looking up again to see him crouched in front of you. He's frowning, so you're frowning, because you don't like it when his smile goes away. You don't like it at all when clouds try to make him a bit less bright. You want him to shine, always, and you want to always be the one to see it.

His hand is still there, inches from yours. His fingers are a bit longer; always have been, and always would be.

He could just take yours if he wanted. He could tug you after him, make you play. It's not like you would complain. You would do whatever he wanted.

But your Caleb was always like this. He always wanted you to choose.

And you always wanted to choose him.

He'll catch it.

One day, your golden boy would catch all the darkness curled up inside you.

You hesitate again. Then you look up and oh, no.

Now his eyes are big and wet, the purple shining all glossy like the gazes of those puppies in the sad commercials on TV, the ones that make you run from the living room when they play. It reminds you of something else, something you can't name, and it makes your skin crawl and you hate it.

Seeing it on Caleb was even worse. Too real, too much like that unnameable thing.

It hurt.

Your fingers land in his, and his despair at you not wanting to play with him anymore evaporates like puffy clouds. You relish in the sunshine of his gaze fully focused on you, feeling the warmth of it in your chest when he holds onto you tight, pulling you up after him, and away.

Away from the kids who sneer, the adults who whisper. Away from what you know you should be but can't, have never been able to be.

Each step away, and you feel a bit lighter, a bit warmer. Each time he squeezes your hand and smiles back at you, you feel less wrong.

He'll catch it.

You feel bad, because you feel good. Because he makes you happy, he makes you forget, he makes you normal.

You feel bad, because you know he's taking the darkness from inside your heart to give you his sunlight. You know he'll succumb to that emptiness, that darkness, too.

You don't want him to lose his light.

You just want to be as much a part of him as he's a part of you.

It's not as bad once you're a bit older, a few years down the line.

The feeling is still there, that unnameable yawning chasm in your chest, along with the heart that flutters and struggles to beat.

But you've buried enough of what's unsettling that your smiles aren't all sharp teeth, ready to tear into flesh. Your lips are shut tight to hide them, and the smiles are small, but it's better.

Even better when Caleb's gravity pulled them from you.

Those smiles were real. Those ones had you fighting to keep the points of your teeth hidden, had you smiling wider when he poked and tugged at your cheeks until the points of your canines showed.

He never looked scared. Never looked like he would do anything but offer his own skin to your lips and say, here. Bite down. I'm not afraid.

Caleb never did say it, but you saw it. It was in the gentleness of his gaze, the way his palm always found yours when he walked you home after school.

It was there in the way he pinched your cheeks, poked each freckle to count them instead of counting the stars when you stayed up too late, gazing out his window. So close to your sharp bite, and never flinching.

He would let you bite if you wanted to. He'd let you do it until you had enough, or until you got tired. He wouldn't shake you off, even then.

You knew. He knew you knew.

And you did bite, a few times. It got worse in those years when he started going to a different school than you.

You'd look at the marks left on his hand, and you wouldn't feel bad. He'd look at them too, and wouldn't hide it.

He'd just smile, ruffle your hair, and buy you candy from the corner-store with the money he'd earned with the little jobs he did around the neighborhood. He could do that now (older, bigger, one step ahead), and he'd always spend it on you. For your happiness, for your smile.

You wondered if it was an obligation. You wondered if it was just habit.

But your smile would make him smile, too, and it was so bright. So, so bright, and all for you.

And sometimes you think that maybe, just maybe, he revolves around you too.

Kids don't shun you as much, once you and Caleb are in the same school again. But you're still weird.

Your eyes aren't as wide and empty, but there's something just a little bit off. Practice doesn't quite make perfect after all.

So they still don't really like you—but they don't hate you, at least.

And of course, Caleb does help. Because if he likes you so much, if he truly adores you, then there must be something about you to like.

So some of them try and talk to you. Except you don't really know how to talk. Not to them, not to anybody that's not your Caleb.

You know very well, at this point, you're way too old for this. You've grown too much, your body changing and shaping in the places that tell you that you need to be your own person. You need to stop being his shadow.

Gran said he wouldn't want you to tag along forever.

It made Caleb mad when she said it.

He hid it well, with a smile as charming as ever. But you saw the flash in his eyes, the tension in his jaw. The twitch of his fingers around his fork, holding on too tight.

Anger looked wrong on him, like how a smile used to look wrong on you.

You liked how it looked.

You felt wrong again, for liking it.

You felt worse, knowing that you liked him not just angry, but angry for you.

Like you were really part of the flock. Like he was really made to look after you, to guard you from harm.

To protect you from the wolf, from yourself.

"No one's gonna take me away from you," he tells you when you sneak into his room late that night.

Both your backs rest against the foot of the bed, knees bumping together. Your head finds his shoulder, and his head rests on yours. You always fit like this. Comfortable. Right.

The well-loved apple plushie rests between your arms, his longer fingers idly picking at a small hole worn into the red fabric.

"How do you know?" you ask, and he frowns deeper, brows pulled together.

You like the anger less when you know something you said brought it back.

"I just do," he mutters, and looks back at you. His irritation is gone so fast with one look at you, replaced by a bright smile. "It's gravity, Pipsqueak. We don't gotta worry about it."

Smiling back is a new, happy habit now.

You find that you like it more than the anger, when your smile makes his own just a bit brighter.

You keep growing older, and so does he. You're tall, but he's taller. He's bigger, stronger. Pretty growing up, and even prettier now, in a way that makes your throat tight and your heart hurt, more than it usually does. Different than it usually does.

He's always just a bit ahead of you. Always reaching back with a smile.

When he walks you home after school, on the days he doesn't have practice for some sports team or another, the other girls giggle when he passes them.

Sometimes you want to giggle, too.

When he looks for you after scoring a point in a game, eyes lighting up when he finds you cheering for him in the crowd. Fingers even longer now, rougher, pushing back the hair from his sweaty forehead before waving with a grin.

Your classmates sigh around you, and you feel the same flutter in your heart that they must when you get to be the one who waves back.

One of them leans over to you, daring to steal your attention after Caleb scores another point. You frown when you have to look away from Caleb's searching gaze again, denying you the rush of it meeting yours.

"We're all heading out to the lake this weekend." The girl in your class, whose name you don't even know, smiles at you. Even as she glances towards where you were supposed to be looking right now. "You should totally come!"

"I—"

The buzzer sounds, cutting you off. You frown, glancing around the gym as people start to rise. Caleb must still be on the court, and your gaze cuts through the busy crowd, searching for him as surely as he searches for you.

"Bring Caleb!"

You flinch as the words land next to your ear, a command more than a question, with another giggle that makes your stomach turn.

Why would she want Caleb?

You stand, pushing your way out of the bleachers, following that familiar instinct, that tug of gravity to him.

You find him with all the others pulled into his gravity, helpless but to be drawn to him. His friends slap him on the back in approval of his winning point—the one you'd missed, your nails biting into your palms at the realization.

Girls are there, too. Pretty girls, older than you. They smile up at him, and bat their eyelashes and giggle the way that you want to giggle, and you dig into your palms even tighter.

Why do they all want Caleb?

It's a stupid question, really. Of course they want the sun to shine down on them, to warm their skin, to light up their days.

Your sun.

"Caleb!"

It's selfish to call out to him.

You know it is, when his universe is bigger than yours, when he deserves to explore all it has to offer.

When you know he'll come running right back anyway just at the first call of your voice.

And here he comes. Running, bright-eyed and eager, smile splitting across his face so wide it looks like it hurts.

"Did you see that last one, Pipsqueak?" He asks as he leans down towards you, another clump of sweaty hair falling in front of his eyes.

Surrounded by all that approval, that praise and worship, and he only sought yours.

You smile and push the stubborn strands of hair back from his sunset eyes before he has to.

You realize belatedly, when his lips twitch higher at the brush of your fingertips against his forehead, that he didn't even try to fix it himself. He knew you would.

And then you remember the answer to his question.

You remember you're not the only one circling him. And that maybe you're just the one that he's used to.

Obligation? You remember those questions that used to linger, like the indentation of your teeth in his skin, back when you both were smaller. Habit?

And there it is again: your name, falling softly from his lips. Like he was never meant to say anything else.

No matter what he called you, you'd look. You loved whatever he did call you, whichever nickname he latched onto, the affection that laced through each syllable.

But your actual name, any slight variation of it—that's what always brought you right back, with an inexplicable force that nearly had you crashing into him.

Or wanting to.

Your mouth opens, and closes. You struggle in resisting his gravity, in knowing you were just another speck of cosmic dust floating around in it. Knowing you shouldn't be selfish.

Knowing how selfish you'd always be.

Why did they all want your Caleb?

"Hey." There's a gentle tug on your chin when your gaze wanders again, callused thumb turning your face back to him. Clouds cover the rays of sun in his gaze again. Because of you. He'd catch your wrong. He'd lose his light. "What's up?"

You suck in a breath, feel it piercing your lungs, and the words rushing out feel like knives in your tongue.

"Want to go to the lake this weekend?"

You hated the lake.

Watching as they all flock to him, tugging his precious attention away every time it barely started to drift back to you.

You hated this.

They laugh at something he said, and he smiles at them.

You hated them.

In one of the longer lulls where he can't glance back at you—somebody clinging to his arm and taking all the attention that was your birthright, with another two giggling—you sulk off to the little public bathroom nearby. You pull your legs up on the closed toilet seat in the stall, staring at the graffiti on the door, words spelling out crushes and curses alike.

They all had crushes on Caleb, didn't they?

And you—

"Did you see that look in her eyes?" Laughter between a couple girls echoes into the empty bathroom with the bang of the opening door, and you hug your legs tighter. "It's scary."

"Haven't you heard about when she was younger?" You watch their shadows pass on the ground, stopping at the sinks. "She's always looked like that, but it used to be worse."

"Worse?" A sharp laugh, and your skin crawls, because you know. You know what they laugh about. You've always known. "How could it be worse?"

"She looked soulless. And when she smiled, she just showed her teeth—like this!" More laughter, and you hug your knees tighter. Nails digging into your skin, chills down your spine. "We thought she'd bite us."

"Did she?"

"No, but Jake said she bit Caleb."

"What?"

"I mean, we don't know if she did. But he saw the marks once."

"Ugh, poor Caleb." You don't like how they say his name. Don't like how they draw it out, how they sigh the string of letters meant for your mouth. "He's stuck with her. Couldn't get rid of her if he wants to."

You feel it again.

"Do you think he wants to?"

Laughter echoes.

You feel the wrong under your skin, thrumming. Coiling. Aching.

He's your Caleb.

"Wouldn't you? She's like a ghost! God, could you imagine living with that?"

He's your Caleb.

"Oh, man! Waking up in the middle of the night and seeing her in the mirror—"

Your feet slap against the floor, the world burning too bright when you slam the stall door open.

The screams that echo when you glower into the reflection they're vainly gazing into is far too satisfying.

They stare, petrified, as you walk up between them to wash your hands.

It doesn't make you feel better. Doesn't wash away the feeling of wanting to rip their throats out any less.

You shake the water off your fingers, feeling the points of your teeth grate together when they yelp and jump back at the flying droplets.

You don't remember walking out. You don't remember how far you got from the lake before he was there; arms around you, voice urging next to your ear.

"Pipsqueak?" You don't stop moving, not even at the press of his warm palm against your heated cheek. He pokes gently at the freckles that didn't fade as much as his, the ones he used to count like stars. "Pips, hey. Hey. Slow down."

You do, because he doesn't make you. Because he always gives you the choice.

Is it because he's always known what your choice will be?

Your head shakes.

It doesn't matter. It doesn't matter if he knows. It couldn't change the truth that he's your world, that he's all you've ever wanted.

Your hand isn't even halfway reaching for him when he's already taken it.

"Let's go home, yeah?" Caleb murmurs, brows knit together in concern. It warms that hollow feeling in your chest, and you sink into it.

It's only when you nod that you feel the streak of tears dripping off your chin.

What you hate most about the lake is how it changes things.

How it changes you.

Suddenly you're much too aware of Caleb's place in the universe. How he has wings untested, never stretched to fly, because he's stuck on the ground with you.

You are selfish, and he lets you be. He loves you so much that he lets you take and take, and you love him so much that you don't want to. You don't want to be that selfish. Not anymore, not when he can have everything.

So you try to grow some distance between you, even as it tears you apart.

It's easier when he graduates high school. Easier to tell yourself he's got that whole wide world, that he deserves for it to all be all his.

Easier to realize you were a wolf in sheep's clothing, clinging to the loyal dog that tended to the flock.

You learn better, how to pretend to be normal. You get so good at smiles and burying the thrumming and aching so deep below your skin that you start to feel normal.

The wolf still adores what it cannot be, what it cannot have. You still adore your Caleb. Still bask in the sun when it returns home.

You still have your moments when you want to sink your teeth in until he stays, until he forgets about ever leaving again.

But you get better at being better.

Or just better at pretending, you think whenever you feel his absence again. Readjusting to it, aching with it so deeply that you think you might die.

Eventually, you're so good at what you've become that you start to really believe it.

You get your own life, you make your own friends. There's a dream you've always had stirrings of, one you start to believe in.

You throw yourself into college, then a career, and you find purpose within it until you're circling farther and farther out of his orbit. Until you feel like you're finally what they've all always wanted you to be.

And your Caleb flies higher, and higher, until he doesn't come home.

Until you realize he wasn't the sun, but had gotten so close to it that he came crashing and burning back down.

Darkness returns.

It is all you know.

And when he comes crashing back into your own orbit, he doesn't bring the light back with him.

There's a look in his eyes that you don't recognize. The face you had memorized like the back of your hand twists in ways that make your heart stutter, make your mind spin, your stomach turn.

He says the things you used to feel, things that you realize you still feel. It's easier to accept, when your obsession and desperation are reflected back at you. When it's even darker and hungrier in him than it had ever been in you.

You sink deeper into it. You sink your teeth into that longing, drunk off every taste you get of being his center of gravity.

You don't know what's changed, exactly.

You don't even know if anything had changed at all. The longer you circle each other, the more times you come dangerously close to crashing together. And the more you wonder how it couldn't have always been this way.

And it's addictive, when you finally fall apart, to fall back together.

The touch of his lips against your aching skin; the sweet, desperate call of your name from them.

To sink your teeth into your entire world; to feel him do the same to his.

To feel him be the same. To know you had always been the same.

One night, tangled up in the sheets and in him, you hear his quiet whisper of confession. One of many sins committed in your name, finally revealed into the dark.

"Remember when you had just started high school?" Caleb's fingers trail up and down your spine with the words, tracing each notch, reverent in how it made you. "And that kid asked you out as a prank?"

You rifle through your memories, thoughts sluggish under the warm comfort of his touch.

"Mm," you hum in acknowledgment when you've found the mental image. "I didn't know you had come up behind me until he and his friends ran away. Must've been some glare you sent them, but you were just smiling at me when I turned around."

"Yeah," it's a deep sigh, still husky in the evidence of how you'd come together. His arm wraps around your waist, dull nails gently scratching at your soft skin, and you shiver when they dig in. "I broke his nose."

You freeze, fingers pausing where they trace circles over the rapid beat of his heart through his heated skin. "You...what?"

"It was so easy," he mumbles, voice taking on that new shade of darkness. Emptiness so familiar in yourself that it makes you shiver in pleasure you'd never voice out loud. "All it took was an extra twist of gravity when he tripped during a track meet. Fell forward just a bit too hard, enough for it to snap."

You swallow thickly, wrapping your arms around him tight. Pressing your skin to his until you could never be apart again.

Caleb's eyes meet yours in the night, searching for fear.

He smiles, hesitant; then sinking into relief, adoration, when he never sees it.

Another night beckons another confession. Another moment where gravity bent so easily under his fingertips, just for you. Even if you never knew.

What nearly drives you crazy is that you were never supposed to know. He would've kept himself as your sun forever, leaving you happily oblivious of the black hole he'd created as a buffer around you.

He slowly combs back through your memories. Happy memories with him, overshadowing the things he did in the dark. All in your name, all to protect you.

Sometimes you trace the familiar lines of his face, the crinkle of his eyes when he smiles, and wonder, was it really always there? His darkness always lurking, always lingering, just as sure as yours.

Or perhaps his obsession ran even deeper than yours. Sinking into the marrow of his bones, as crucial to his bloodstream as his love for you, rushing through his veins to keep his heart beating.

Were you truly too dazzled by the radiance of his smile to notice his teeth were as sharp as yours?

What if I told you I was always like this?

Maybe you had just been too blind from gazing into your own sun to see all the darkness the light cast on his own.

Too in love with one side of him to see both, to see that you were never the only wolf hiding among the flock.

[mimi-111]

What it left behind.

Caleb never misses the way your hand trembles when touching his.

The way your eyes squeeze shut when embracing him, and the way hesitation keeps you hostage whenever you have to decide between holding his gaze like it's the last thing you'll ever do, or avoid it like it never existed in the first place. It breaks him every time.

It seems that no depth of proximity could ever be enough; the only way that you both could be secure in your reality- that you're both alive and safe- is if you could crawl into each other's skin. But even then you hesitate and even then, although he understands your position, he wishes he could once and for all convince you.

Caleb doesn't want to be the moon to your sun, he wants to be the sky to your sun; he needs you two to be inseparable and dependent on each other- stuck to each other for all of eternity. But the explosion seemed to have left both physical and mental scars on you- it made you feel weak, too reliant on the boy you grew up with.

But Caleb begged to differ. You are strong, he knows that and despite your trauma, a thought buries itself deep in a twisted, unpure part of his mind. Something he wishes he could forever purge or repent for. Somewhere deep down, a small, contorted voice confesses that as much as Caleb hates what he had to do to you, he's glad for it. The voice in his head is still his, and it whispers: 'She relied on me, she relies on me.'

It felt almost perverted, and Caleb often slapped himself awake from the thought. No feeling could override the guilt that he felt for what he had done, but feelings were rarely simple. You relied on him enough that his death left you barely functioning, and to an extent, your horrors were a comfort to him.

He didn't want to do what he did, he wishes he hadn't needed to. He never wanted to make you break that way- he wants to keep you perfect, untouched, uncracked. However despite all of those feelings, a small part of him found your condition after his death reassuring: a job well done.

He yearned to be all you need in the same way you were all he ever needed, all he could ever want. And the confirmation that you felt for him even a fraction of what he felt for you was a comfort that he was ashamed to admit was necessary.

He would never hurt you that way again, you just had to give him the opportunity to prove himself.

Do not repost (to other websites), translate, plagiarize or feed my work into ai.

a small little something from my drafts because I need to post something...

[mimi-111]

This is random and ik I dont have much followers rn, but if any of you read any of my future works and realise I described reader in a way that alludes to her being a certain race, PLEASE dont be afraid to tell me! I want to make my writing as inclusive as possible, and although I usually manage to, i wouldnt be surprised if some things slipped past me

So for years black girls have had to read fanfics where y/n was automatically described as being paled skinned with long flowing hair and blue eyes. We couldn’t relate to it exactly, it excluded us, it ignored us. But we read it cause it was all that was out there. Now when we start writing fanfics for other black girls to feel included and represented, now you all are saying that you ‘‘can’t relate to it” therefore don’t support black writers when we were supporting your work all those years even though you were acting like we don’t exist within these fandoms. 

[mimi-111]

working on an angst one shot w caleb, about halfway done :D

[mimi-111]

Strangely specific Caleb x Reader headcanons

genre: fluff

pairing: caleb x reader, reader IS mc

notes: teeny Zayne mention, I like to imagine that they're all friends & still close / I've thought of these over the past 2 days and they're pretty self indulgent but I hope others can relate/enjoy it too :D

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ He LOVES when you tear stuff open with your nails. He doesn't know why, it's just so... attractive to him? Perhaps it's just seeing you effortlessly do it (even though it's easy anyway) or the fact that it seems (in the most liberal term of the word...) more animalistic- he's just obsessed with it. For example you getting a package and instead of grabbing scissors, you tear through the sticker with your nail -> Especially if you have your nails done or they are particularly pointy/long.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ If you indulge in asmr, you guys will watch it together and analyse it (for the sake of giggles of course).

╰➤ ❝That isn't even realistic, doctors don't do that!" "Might have to ask Zayne about this, pips.❞

BUT if he realises you like certain phrases in asmr that give you tingles, or you like certain types of asmr (backscratching, head scratching, affirmations) he'll do it for you no questions asked- even if you never brought it up to him! You'll return the favour any time though.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ If you're a musical person: he loves when you sing to him, especially if he's laying on your chest after a tough day and you're both just basking in each other's presence. If you play any instruments or tend to sing to yourself, he'll sometimes sneak a video without you knowing and listen to it when he's in Skyhaven- especially if he's in his private plane or on a mission.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ If you like a specific flavour of whatever you two are eating, he’ll often pretend he doesn't like that flavour just so you can have more of it.

╰➤ ❝I don't like these pips, you can have 'em :D❞

Similarly if you're both going out to eat and he sees you're still hungry (or he realises you don't like what you ordered) he’ll smoothly suggest that he doesn't like his either, and ask if u want to try each other's and switch (he did like his, but he likes seeing your smile more). You think you hit the jackpot with how your tastes align so perfectly- but it's just him and his insane devotion.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ He’s got big hands and they're warm - if you ever use your own hands to warm your stomach when on your period (like me- I swear they're inbuilt heating pads) then he’ll start doing it for you, placing his palm on your lower stomach and letting his heat melt away your pain. You can immediately feel the effects and the relaxation starts to easily slip you into a gentle sleep.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ Whenever you lay together, his limbs are entwined around you like the vines and roots of a tree. His arms? Caging you against him firmly. His leg? If its not thrown over you, its in some way touching you- at the very least your feet are touching. His hands? Playing with any jewellery you may be wearing, twirling any small strand of hair he can find at your nape or simply caressing your skin. His face? Awfully close to you, his lips are either delicately ghosting over your skin, peppering soft kisses or even softer words and his nose is buried in the crook of your neck- breathing in your scent.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ Half of this is already canon but he frequently uses your body wash whenever he misses you, but when you use his shampoo? It’s game over. Prepare to be wrapped in his arms and guided to the sofa, he needs to bask in your perfect presence uninterrupted- everything else can wait the same way he’s been waiting for you all these years. His hands are all over you, holding you as close as the physical realm will allow him and he's tucking your head under his chin- letting himself inhale the scent of himself on you. And honestly? You're no different, holding onto his shirt like its your lifeline and feeling yourself be gently enveloped by the smell of your delicate, floral bodywash on the man you love.

excuse any mistakes, this is my first time posting :PP hope you all enjoy!!

[mimi-111]

ׂ╰┈➤ Hello! You can call me Mimin, I plan on writing here ✎

She/her, enjoy anime + videogames + shows

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ I'm guessing I'll mostly be writing fanfiction (I'm unpredictable even to myself :P) buttt, originally I wrote lots of OC scenarios/ scenarios with unspecified characters.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ I have phases where I'm obsessed with certain media - I can't promise that I'll be consistently active, let alone consistently writing for a specific fandom, but I'll try my best :D

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ I'll hopefully create a masterlist... eventually

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ I currently want to write for Love and Deepspace → Caleb is my main

╰┈➤ ❝ [HOWEVER...] ❞

┊ ˚➶ ｡˚ Fandoms I engage in & might write for:

⋆ Jujutsu Kaisen

⋆ Honkai Star Rail

⋆ Resident Evil

⋆ One Piece

⋆ more i cant think of right now

dividers by seylesie & oathem

do not translate, feed to ai, plagiarize or post my work anywhere

[mimi-111]

　 𝜗୧⠀⠀⠀𓈒⠀⠀⠀dividers by me ۪ㅤ🐏◞ ྀ

　　 　 　 ⠀˖　⠀˙⠀　｡　⠀rb to use/save

credit to @abyslita for using one of his dividers:3!! vv sorry, forgot to credit so mb <3

[mimi-111]

he lived, served cunt, died, got resurrected, served even more cunt

[mimi-111]

MC: I love that you make little snowmen with your evol. You're so cute, Zaynie.

Zayne: Like the little seals you mistook as snowballs?

MC: So I have to bear this cross forever.

[mimi-111]

Weve ALL felt this before

what a beautiful man but☝️he could be beautifuller... guards! cover that man in blood

[mimi-111]

[mimi-111]

Emotional Walls Your Character Has Built (And What Might Finally Break Them)

(How your character defends their soft core and what could shatter it) Because protection becomes prison real fast.

✶ Sarcasm as armor. (Break it with someone who laughs gently, not mockingly.) ✶ Hyper-independence. (Break it with someone who shows up even when they’re told not to.) ✶ Stoicism. (Break it with a safe space to fall apart.) ✶ Flirting to avoid intimacy. (Break it with real vulnerability they didn’t see coming.) ✶ Ghosting everyone. (Break it with someone who won’t take silence as an answer.) ✶ Lying for convenience. (Break it with someone who sees through them but stays anyway.) ✶ Avoiding touch. (Break it with accidental, gentle contact that feels like home.) ✶ Oversharing meaningless things to hide real depth. (Break it with someone who asks the second question.) ✶ Overworking. (Break it with forced stillness and the terrifying sound of their own thoughts.) ✶ Pretending not to care. (Break it with a loss they can’t fake their way through.) ✶ Avoiding mirrors. (Break it with a quiet compliment that hits too hard.) ✶ Turning every conversation into a joke. (Break it with someone who doesn’t laugh.) ✶ Being everyone’s helper. (Break it when someone asks what they need, and waits for an answer.) ✶ Constantly saying “I’m fine.” (Break it when they finally scream that they’re not.) ✶ Running. Always running. (Break it with someone who doesn’t chase, but doesn’t leave, either.) ✶ Intellectualizing every feeling. (Break it with raw, messy emotion they can’t logic away.) ✶ Trying to be the strong one. (Break it when someone sees the weight they’re carrying, and offers to help.) ✶ Hiding behind success. (Break it when they succeed and still feel empty.) ✶ Avoiding conflict at all costs. (Break it when silence causes more pain than the truth.) ✶ Focusing on everyone else’s healing but their own. (Break it when they hit emotional burnout.)

[mimi-111]

Love Bites

Your love language is biting

Let’s get one thing straight he loves you but you got to stop the biting. Before you go to work, before dinner, before bed. He’s losing it here. He was just trying to kiss you goodbye before he went to work. He hugged you and you bit his arm, not hard of course never hard. It was just enough a love bite.

You were laying down indulging in a video game on your phone before bed when Zayne got out the shower. The smell of his soap activating that itch you had. He slides into bed before slowly taking your phone, pulling you from your engrossed gaming. He just wants some of your attention before bed. He holds you close and you let him until you got a whiff of his soap smelling skin. He smelled so delicious so you just took a bite right on his pectoral.

“What is with you and biting lately?” He questions, taken back by your sharp teeth. You shrug hugging him tighter.

“I just love you.” You sigh in content, he shakes his head tiredly. “Please find another way to express your emotions.”

Please don’t get him started, okay? He enjoys you biting him. He thinks of it as you marking your territory. He looks good in his colonel uniform? Bite. He does his hair differently? Bite. His ass looks fatter than usual? Bite. It was never ending and he didn’t mind until today.

You got cuteness aggression and bit him too hard. You couldn’t help it! It was his fault for buying a new outfit and changing his hair! It started off with sweet kisses until it felt like it wasn’t enough. Then you bit him right on his cheek. He yelped and just stared at you like you lost every piece of your mind.

“Don’t bite me so hard pips.” He whined rubbing his cheek but you couldn’t help it. He was just too cute!

“Sorry I couldn’t help it.” You mumbled kissing the spot you bit before biting him once more.

“PIPSQUEAK!”

He’s so close to spitting bubbles at you. He was getting dressed for his art exhibit tonight. He wanted to sell his paintings and go home. You couldn’t get enough of how good he looked as you watched from behind the door. He could sense you a mile away. His eyes shifted towards the door holding his stare. You dashed towards him making him dodge you and dash out of the room.

He jumps over the jars of paint trying to avoid you. He’s begging you to stop chasing him. You catch him around a corner and tackle him down and Rafayel being as dramatic as he is, screams. He’s thrashing but thanks to all the training you do at work, you were just as strong. He swallowed nervously as he watched you smile at him.

“You look so biteable today.” You smile mischievously at him. He wanted to pray to someone, anyone who would listen! He didn’t want to be bit!

“Have I ever told you that you look so beautiful when you…don’t bite me?” He tries to shrink away as you move closer.

“No but too bad that wouldn’t stop me anyway.” You tell him as you bite his arm making him help for help. Sadly for him he’s the only one who lives on this beach.

Oh he bites back. He doesn’t care that you bite him he sees you as a kitten anyway. It doesn’t hurt him in the slightest. He gets the same cuteness aggression that you do it’s just up to whoever gets to who first. You just got him last night when he came back from business. Something about him loosening his tie did it for you.

You were getting ready to do some undercover work. You left the bathroom fully dressed and just adding your earrings only to see him lying on the bed. You froze hands on earring as he just stares at you. His eyes the size of boba but neither of you move. Maybe if you don’t move he won’t see you. Wrong.

One try of locking him out the bathroom later and you’re between his legs on the edge of the bed as he showers you in kisses. Occasionally he’d sniff you to get a whiff of that floral perfume you had on. He couldn’t get enough it was like he was charging up. What could you do other than let him?

“You smell so good…and look divine.” He mumbles into your neck. You knew it was coming. “Sylus don’t you dare—“ Before you could finish that sentence he bit your cheek causing you to yelp. It was only payback.

He was snuggled on your stomach holding you tight. You guys were watching a movie when he began dozing off. He looked so freaking cute and puffy you couldn’t help yourself. You bent down to softly bite his cheek which just caused his eyes to open. He side eyed you, blinking three times.

“What are you doing?” He asked while you were still in position. You didn’t move, you were frozen. You didn’t care for being in trouble either.

“Biting.” You answer through your teeth. You kept nibbling on his cheek which ended up putting him back to sleep somehow.

The link is the funniest part I fear

I got too excited and wanted to show you guys this one 😔

[mimi-111]

big fan of the trope where caleb cries because he's frustrated. i like to imagine it's some time after his body neutralizes the toring chip, and he's still getting used to fully feeling his emotions — but you do something reckless during your hunter job that lands you in the hospital.

caleb's notified of it. he sees you lying in that dreadful hospital bed, your eyes closed, and looking so much more vulnerable. afraid to hold your hand, to touch you, out of fear of breaking you — and he feels so powerless. no amount of control and strength he holds as the fleet's colonel can change the fact that you're on a hospital bed, with only the faint beep of your heart monitor serving as a reminder that you're still alive.

when you wake up and see him at your bedside, you squeeze his hand and flash him a weak smile.

"just a scratch, you know," comes out as a whisper, your voice still hoarse.

and caleb knows you.

he knows that you're just trying to comfort him, to let him know you're okay. he's fully aware of your personality, how you try to put on a brave face most of the time with him, and how you try not to ask for help anymore. 

somehow, that little comment, meant as reassurance, just makes the frustration bubble in his chest. a star about to explode, to turn into a purple sunset supernova.

he wants to yell at you for being careless with yourself. he wants to hold onto your shoulders and shake you. he wants to question you — "do you even know what could've happened? you could've died," he would say.

however, seeing you so frail in front of him makes him incapable of doing that. and you end up staring at something you didn't think was possible.

caleb's shoulders sag.

a sigh of relief, quickly followed by hiccuped breathing.

a wet drop on your hand.

a sob.

caleb, the man who always put on a brave face in front of you, the man who you never saw crying, was sobbing in front of your very eyes. years of boxed feelings, compartmentalized emotions, facades put on bravely, all came shattering down at once. 

then in between sobs, you hear caleb speak, his eyes still glossy, his freckled cheeks dusted pink and streaked with tears.

“i thought i'd lose you today.”

and in the quiet of the hospital room, you see in front of you the same boy who'd been experimented on, who suffered more than most — and yet he cries, not for himself but for you.

it'll all be okay eventually. for now, though? you simply hold his hand and brush your thumb over it softly, all while whispering apologies and promises of never scaring him like this again.