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shurislover · 9 days

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On My Mama Pt. 6

Tags: @mixedfandxms @shurislover @lppriceisright @sweetalittleselfish-honey @desswright29 @cutttteeee @onyxstones-world @katymae12344 @doramilaj233 @sweetalittleselfish-honey @6-noir @khara876 @she-is-my-unrequited-love34 @teadah18 @un-deniable-me3 @goolishh @anayaperry @undercover-introvert @delightreadsfics

“Yo, ya’ll be doing too much.” Riri grumbled to Shuri as she sat at the kitchen island; eating a bowl of cereal. She looked exhausted. Shuri chuckled, as she drank the last of the orange juice straight out of the carton.

“My bad, Ri.” Shuri clasped a hand on Riri’s shoulder. It had been two days since the diner scene and She’d finally unlocked the lab. You and Shuri had returned back to the apartment the night before and had spent the entire night fucking.

Shuri had energy that never seemed to go down whilst you were running on the power of pure pettiness. Your moans, cries and screams the work of Shuri’s talented tongue, lips, hands and strap. You didn’t have to fake shit, Shuri worked the sounds out of your throat with little effort.

“When the fuck did this even happen? How?” Riri asked, she wanted to know how you came to fuck Shuri.

“We just talked everything out and then it just happened and kept happening.” Shuri shrugs. She tossed the empty carton in the trash before grabbing some fruit. She rinsed them and started to peel and cut them before placing them into a bowl.

She’d watched you enough to know you loved fruits. Your main favorites being mangoes, pomegranates, pineapples, kiwis, peaches, grapes, tangerines, oranges, and berries.

“Why did you lock me out of the lab?” Riri asked, still pissed about that.

“Riri. I locked everyone out of the lab. Y/n and I were fucking all over the place, why would I keep the lab open to everyone including you?” Shuri raised a brow, as she stared at the smaller girl.

“You’ve never banned me from the lab before.” Riri had a look in her eye.

“I didn’t ban you. I shut the lab down for a few days. Y/n is entitled to privacy. You may like exhibitionism but she doesn’t.” Shuri’s tone was very matter of fact and the look she gave Riri, had her realizing that Y/n had told her everything that had transpired between them fully.

“I wasn’t thinking. I was angry and hurt and…” Riri bit her lip as she felt the overwhelming urge to cry. She’d never felt this out of control and lost before. She didn’t know what to do or how to fix what she’d done.

Shuri frowned. Riri had never in all the time she’d known her been so emotional. Yes, Riri had her moments where she was angry and let her temper tule her but she’d never been so sad. She wasn’t used to seeing this side of Riri.

“I hurt Y/n and it’s killing me because she didn’t deserve that. She’s so sweet and kind and full of love underneath that bitchy, tough demeanor she has going on.” Riri sighed in frustration. “I care about her, more than I thought I ever would care about anyone let alone her. She hates me and I deserve that. I fucked up.”

“I’m not going to lie to you. What you did was fucked. However, I know you. You don’t have a malicious bone in your body. You were wrong and you did hurt Y/n but you can’t wallow in pity. You want her forgiveness, earn it. Stop feeling sorry for yourself, it won’t fix anything.” Shuri insisted, before grabbing the bowl of fruits and a bottled water. She headed for her bedroom, to see you seated on the bed.

She’d heard you run from the door to the bed as she came over. You were eavesdropping. She closed the room door behind her, and walked the items over to you. You have her a small smile in thanks before placing the food on the nightstand.

What Riri had said struck you. You hated the fact you felt bad. Why should you feel bad? She’d done something so fucked up and now she was sorry? She should have thought of this before she did what she did.

You felt a pang of guilt at the thoughts that ran through your head.

The next few weeks passed with you having very few interactions with Riri. She went back to her same old song and dance of ordering you food, leaving out notes for your classes, doing your laundry and leaving notes.

Each note was heartfelt and full of remorse but you hated them. You felt torn between forgiveness and resentment. She made herself scarce whenever you were around, locking up in her room or heading to the lab. The longer you went without seeing her, the more you felt bad.

You hated how much you liked the girl who'd disrespected you in a way you'd never been disrespected. Were you a glutton for punishment?

After a while fucking Shuri got to be draining. While you loved fucking her, you had no feelings for her and it felt passionless despite her setting your body on fire each time. You needed feelings and fucking, not just one but both.

You still slept in Shuri's room despite not having sex, liking her company. You both talked and it was eye opening because you learned so much about her. She told you about her family; her father, brother and mother.

Things many people didn't know and you were shocked she was so candid with you. She told you about how she'd met Riri, and the events leading up to the loss of her mother. Why she'd bonded with Riri as much as she had and why she felt she was cursed or paying for sins she was unaware of.

The more Shuri expressed herself, the more you realized just why she was the way that she was. She'd lost so much so young and it made your heart ache. You felt like your world had ended when you lost your father but Shuri had lost her whole family, a whole support system of people that loved and cared for her no matter what.

You'd only ever had your father once your mother decided your sexuality was something she couldn't look past, the hypocritical bitch. The more you hung out and talked, the less Shuri partied, drunk or smoked. She was laser focused on her goals, whilst turning to exercising for an outlet.

You were proud of her, seeing her get herself together and let go of her demons. She'd recently enrolled in therapy virtually with a Wakandan Doctor and made plans to visit her brother's ex lover. You knew both were big steps for her as she'd never taken mental health seriously before, and she hadn't seen her brother's ex lover since shortly after the death of her mother.

Whilst the two of you formed a friendship, you were forced to watch Shuri get her shit together. You realized you no longer had a choice to wallow in self pity or be drowned with your anger, bitterness and resentment.

Shuri helped you sign up with a Wakandan Doctor separate from her own, but you'd bailed each time the appointment was set and the call came through.

You were scared. You could admit that. You didn't want to have to dive through the several layers of fuckery that plagued your mind and your heart.

"Hey..." You looked up to see Riri standing in the entry way of the kitchen as you did your homework at the kitchen island.

"Hi." You said, dryly.

"How are you?" Riri asked, her body language showing just how uncomfortable she was.

"Peachy." You responded, looking back down at your notebook before continuing your writing.

"I um... I've been meaning to talk to you--"

"To apologize?" You snorted before looking up at her. "I don't need another apology, I've had plenty. You showed me exactly who you are and what you're capable of. I'm not even mad anymore, it was my mistake to think you were someone I could trust."

"Y/n..." Riri sighed, running her hands over her freshly done marley twists.

"Is that all you needed?" You asked.

"I... yeah." She looks down before turning around, defeated. Your attention went back to your homework, frustrated at the smallest tinge of excitement you got from seeing her. It'd been weeks since you'd seen her face to face.

"No." You hear and frown as you look up. "I was wrong, I admit that. I can't say anything that could ever take away what I did, I know that but I like you and I know you like me too. I can't pretend like these feelings don't exist, I've never cared about someone the way I care about you and it's killing me knowing I hurt you the way that I have, Ma..."

Your breath hitched as you listened to what she said. Each word making you more confused.

"Tell me you don't like me, look me in the eyes right now and tell me that you don't care about me..." Riri said, her eyes locked with yours as she walked towards you.

"You don't get to---"

"Shut. Up." Riri growled, her eyes hooded as she pulled you to face her and kissed you. Her hands gripping your face as she tried to convey the way she felt in the kiss.

"Stop." You fought against her, hating how your body was melting into her touch.

"I'm sorry, Ma." She whispered against your lips. "I'm so fucking sorry."

She continued apologizing between kisses, while holding you close to her. You felt your resolve growing weak as you moaned into her mouth. This kiss was unlike any kiss you'd ever had before and it made you angry.

"Ya'll gonna fuck in the kitchen?" You hear and Riri reluctantly moves away and you both take breaths.

"And if we were?" Riri asked her, raising a brow.

"Odd considering you know me and Y/n are kicking it." Shuri huffs.

“I didn’t realize you two were exclusive.” Riri raised a brow though it was clear the statement was a dig at Shuri.

“At the very least we’re closer than the two of you.” Shuri responded, and even though she was wearing shades it was obvious she was glaring at Riri.

“Hi, Hey, Hello?!” You wave a hand at the pair. “I’m single and can very much do whatever the fuck I want.”

“And Riri, it’ll take more than an apology and some kisses to get in my good graces. I’m tolerating you, don’t get cocky.” You level her with a stare that you hope conveys how much you did NOT like her at the moment.

Shuri smirked, and you rolled your eyes. They were acting like children. You weren’t some shiny new toy they could play with and fight over. You were a human being with real needs and emotions. It was pissing you off that they seemed to think they could do whatever to you and you’d allow it.

Forgiveness didn’t mean letting either of them continue to play you for a fool. You used Shuri for sex, and she was great to talk to but that’s as far as things went in your head. Your heart was a different story, you had a soft spot for the both of them in different ways but you refused to ever become vulnerable with either of them because you had not faith or trust in them.

Sex was simple. Fun, addicting. But anything else was just not happening. You weren’t ever going there again. Love was bullshit, and while you didn’t think you ever loved anyone before you could admit Riri made you feel things that made you second think that thought. While you could admit you were growing to like their ex, she played you worse than either of them. And to add insult to injury she never even liked you. Just used you.

“If this is going to be a problem, I can easily go back to fucking the bartender.” You say to Shuri, and the both of them glare at you. You smile, turning to head to your room. “Maybe I should hit her up again.”

A hand snatches your hips quickly, stopping you in place.

“No one can compare to me, and you know that.” Shuri says as she kisses your neck. Her hands grip your hips possessively.

“True.” You agree, holding back a moan as she sucked on your spot. Out of any one you’d fucked, Shuri had been the best and you were certain of that.

Riri scoffs to herself as Shuri turned you and lifted you up with ease and you wrapped your legs around her. A small part of you relished how uncomfortable and envious Riri felt. You knew she was pissed and the mere satisfaction of her feeling some of the hurt you felt, seemed to boost your eagerness as you moaned out.

A knock sounds at the door, and you hear Riri heading for the door as Shuri bit down on your pulse point. Your clit throbbed as she pressed you tighter against her.

“Well, the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. Does it love ?” A familiar voice says and you freeze as Shuri’s head whips up to look towards the door.

“It’s like looking in a mirror….” Riri whispered to herself, as she stared at the woman that resembled an older, taller you.

You turned slowly and stared.

“Well aren’t you going to invite your mother in?” She questions, looking between you, Riri and Shuri.

🤎

Just a short little update to shake things up a bit 😉

#vees recs

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shurislover · 13 days

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no woman, no cry (chapter three)

warnings. false awakening/reoccurring dream. fluff. introduction to more oc’s. mention and description of mental breakdown. ex-girlfriend and sisters. that kind of soul connected love. two-sided personality. slight neglect. hinting towards flirting. jealous!tish. possessive!tish. angst. tense arguing. a realization and apologies

tags. @shurislover @s0lam33y @desswright29 @pocketsizedpanther @naftalyspaces @oceean @tishlvr @bbbbbbrilliantly @shurisnovia @kisskourt @blkgworlamplified @prettymrswright @sweetalittleselfish-honey @jordisblogg

notes. this chapter contains… a lot, we’re hitting ALL the emotions. i’ve been ready to write this chapter for weeks as that scene was replaying in my head over and over and now it’s finally here. i hope you all love it ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

The Milan sun dips below the horizon, casting a soft amber hue over the bustling Malpensa Airport, the first time she’s felt the sun since leaving Jamaica. Genesis stands in the economy boarding line, her dreadlocks tied into a loose bun, tucked under a knit beanie. Her eyes, a reflective pool of thought, wander across the vast terminal, watching the world around her.

Once the line moves enough, she hands over the needed documents, a subtle sigh escaping her lips as she does, fingers brushing against a leather-bound journal in her bag, a collage of sketches and musings that mirror her soul.

Boarding the aircraft, Genesis nestles into her seat, the window to her left granting her a panoramic view of the bright tarmac lights. The seat beside her remains vacant, a small luxury in the cramped quarters of economy, and ahead of her is the curtain that divides the classes. She imagines Letitia, her relaxed posture in the cocoon of first-class comforts.

Genesis blacks out most of takeoff, having done it many times before, and though she doesn’t sleep well normally, there’s times where her body’s just so tired that she doesn’t even realize she falls into it.

And this time, when her eyes droop closed, an image floods her sight. It’s a field, a vast expanse of green that seems to stretch infinitely. And there’s a small child, maybe no older than nine. It’s her, a child with braids, her clothes a couple sizes too large on her skinny frame, billowing around her as she runs. But it isn’t joyous, there’s no laughter, only fear clear on her face, set by the sudden harsh crackle of incoming flames.

She doesn’t say a word, doesn’t scream for help, only her ragged breathes are heard as she runs towards her view of the scene, an intuitive understanding that to turn would be to acknowledge the fear gnawing at her heels. And she’s never been one for that.

She hears the gallop of hooves suddenly, a man on the horse a persistent shadow in her periphery. His presence is ominous as he rides after her, yet there’s something strangely familiar, like a forgotten verse of a once-loved song.

And then she hears the hum.

The tune’s a constant, melodic notes, deep and experienced, echoing a timelessness that feels both foreign and familiar, seemingly etched into her very soul. Yet its origin remains a mystery, obscured like a half-remembered lullaby.

The dream dissolves as the Captain’s voice announces their descent into Heathrow, and Genesis stirs, her eyes opening to the sterile light of the cabin, causing her eyebrows to furrow.

Still in a sleepy haze, she stows her journal, making an internal commitment to try and decipher the dream’s meaning later, wether be in sketch or writing, and she checks the seat pocket and the floor before zipping up her carry-on, knowing she has everything, now ready for landing, ready for the return back to urban life in its entirety. And the humming retreats into the recesses of her mind, where it will wait, patient and steadfast, for the night’s sleep, or a moment of meditation, or even revelation, when she’ll finally be able to recognize it for what it is.

Once she’s able to get off the plane, she steps into limited space of the tunnel, and she’s not sure she’s excited or even relieved of the arrival. But then she sees her, Letitia, standing in the slightly more open space next to some workers, a soft smile turning her lips up slightly. Her presence is a balm to the fatigue and anxiety that clings to Genesis like a second skin.

“Hey,” Letitia says quietly, reaching out to intertwine their fingers, her palm providing gentle warmth against Genesis’ almost chronically cold skin.

“Hey,” Genesis mirrors her, voice a little raspy, tinged with the remnants of sleep.

Together, they navigate the throngs of passengers, moving in silent harmony towards the assigned baggage claim, the carousel churning out suitcases in a rhythmic clunk. And Genesis watches as Letitia grabs hers with easy grace, seemingly a contrast to the tension she feels in her own limbs, happy she only traveled with her crossbody bag.

Suddenly, a whistle, sharp and clear, cuts through the murmurs around them and Genesis’ head turns instinctively towards the sound, her heart recognizing it before her mind even can, her eyes instantly falling on the form that made it.

Julian, a head above the crowd, his dreadlocks a cascade over his shoulders, his smile seeming to reach his eyes, igniting a furry of emotions within Genesis, a mixture of joy, nostalgia, and an unspoken trepidation.

“Gen!” He calls out her name and the sound brings with it a flood of memories. Sun-drenched afternoons and the smell of rain hitting the earth.

“Julian…” She breathes out, her voice quiet, yet there’s the smallest smile forming on her lips.

His arms wrap around her easily, his six foot frame towering over Genesis’ five-four one, an invitation back to the days of their youth where a hug would fix all the scrapes on knees and hearts alike. The familiarity of the embrace envelopes Genesis like a blanket, the kind of hug that doesn’t shy away from the past.

“God, I’ve missed you.” Julian murmurs, his voice a low rumble that reverberates through their joined bodies, and Genesis breathes in the scent that’s unmistakably Julian, the faint trace of sandalwood and the crispness of open air that always seems to cling to him.

They pull away slowly, reluctance threaded in Julian’s movements, his hands lingering on her shoulders for a moment longer, eyes searching her green ones, for the friend he knew, the one that climbed trees to their highest branch and dreamt as big as the sky.

“Yuh alright?”

“I think so…” Genesis nods, voice steady, and Julian can’t help but chuckle, pulling back fully now. And in that moment, she feels Letitia’s hand take hers again, a gentle squeeze felt, and Julian notices the subtle entwining, looking between them before his eyes fall on their hands.

“Letitia, yeah?” He questions, looking at her with a slightly narrowed expression. Letitia nods, extending a hand to his, feeling his tight grip as he shakes. “Nice to see you again.”

“You too.” Letitia replies, voice steady.

With the luggage secured and the hustle of the airport now behind them after walking out, Genesis and Letitia stand on the curb, the cool London air wrapping around them. Julian, having gone to retrieve the car, pulls up on their place by the sidewalk, his presence a reminder of the incoming departure.

“I always dreaded this part.” Genesis looks at Letitia, eyes softening as she remembers back to the moments of goodbyes between them, after months together for filming and press.

“Only for the night. Tomorrow we can grab coffee or tea at that little place you love. What is it… Exmouth Coffee?”

“You remembered?” Genesis cant stop the smile from appearing on her lips. She maybe only mentioned that fact once, at least five years ago now.

“Of course,” Letitia says, a playful rebuke in her tone. “I remember everything when it comes to you.”

And they move closer, a hug enveloping them with a deep warmth, one that fills Genesis’ heart, and Letitia’s whisper fills her ear.

“Nine tomorrow? Meet you there?”

Genesis nods as they pull away, but not too far, pressing a soft peck against Letitia’s lips before they finally step apart fully, Letitia opening the passenger side door for her before closing it again, leaning down to look at Julian through the window.

“Take care of her, yeah?”

“Always.” Julian nods with reassurance from the driver’s seat, and she straightens, about to step back, when she hears his voice again. “Oh, and Letitia?”

Her eyes meet his in curious question.

“Thank you for bringing her home.”

A warmth fills Letitia’s heart, nodding, sharing one last glance with Genesis, the finality of the moment hanging heavy in the air before she finally steps back onto the curb, watching as Julian pulls away, soon disappearing around the corner.

The ride to Tottenham is shrouded in the kind of silence that allows the soul to speak. She sits there, her gaze fixed on the world racing by the window as the city transitions from the polished streets of London to the more rugged, lived-in spaces of Tottenham. She always thought of Tottenham as London’s Trench Town, in ways, those who grew up normally try and get out.

Letitia did… but Genesis isn’t there yet.

Yet, Chronixx’s soulful voice plays through the speakers, the lyrics of his version of “Smile Jamaica”, a balm to the scenes she sees. The soft hum of the music is a reminder of Jamaica, of the days spent looking for peace within herself.

As Julian’s car turns onto their street, the familiarity of the terraced apartments, each baring scars and stories of so many generations, cause Genesis’ heartbeat to pick up, just slightly. Soon, Julian parks and the engine’s cessation marks their arrival, but they just sit for a moment, neither of them making a move to leave, letting the silence between them stretch comfortably.

“Yuh sure you okay?” Julian questions quietly, finally, his voice soft, yet carrying in the small space of the car.

“Yeah.” Genesis’ reply is simple, only a short pause from the question, turning her head to offer a sheepish, closed-lipped, smile.

She then steps out of the car first, the night air flowing against her and Julian follows, leading her up to the door before unlocking it with his key and letting her in.

Ziggy was there to greet them as they enter, his presence almost a larger-than-life force in the modest entry-way. His dreadlocks are tucked into a natural toned beanie, almost framing his head, and his eyes light up when he sees Genesis.

“Gen,” He smiles gently, his arms already open for a hug.

“Zig…” Genesis replies, mustering a small smile as she walks into his embrace, his hug enveloping her easily.

They stay like that for a moment, no words said, just remaining the same, but eventually Ziggy pulls back and he steps out the way for Genesis to get to the stairs, watching as she walks past and she hears his voice say something about going out tonight, though she’s not sure if it’s directed towards her or Julian, or both, but she just keeps walking up.

Her room sits at the sharp turn right from the stairs, finding her door creaked open, and she pushes on it to reveal the chaos that awaits her. She takes in a sharp breath as she steps in, standing in the middle of the mess as she looks around, rubbing the back of her neck in annoyance with herself as she remembers the events coming back to her mind.

She was mad, pissed. She remembers turning to go walk out the room before her anger just took over, slamming her hands into the closet on her right before slamming her shoulder into it and turning to walk back into the middle of the room.

She remembers pulling down the curtains and blinds, the ones that still aren’t there, and she remembers grabbing the broom, because she was using it earlier that day to actually clean, and she just started hitting it into the window, intent on breaking it. When it wasn’t working she swung it like a bat and broke off the tail-end, but she kept going until she did manage to break the window, leaving broken glass all over her carpet.

She threw so much stuff after that, leaving it haphazardly on the floor before turning and kicking at the wall because she was still so uncontrollably mad. She had raised her leg like during knee-ups and just shoved her foot down, stumbling back slightly after the impact, but that didn’t stop her, not even when she paced a little, she continued to kick the same place repeatedly until there was a shoe sized hole there.

And that’s when she dropped to the floor, knees to her chest as she sat against her bed, arms leaning on her knees as her head dropped into her hands, and she broke down into tears, sobbing.

“We repaired the window and the wall.”

Genesis jumps, her heart skipping a beat literally as she’s harshly pulled from her memories, whirling around to find Ragga in the doorway, his presence as grounding as earth itself. He’s always had a way of moving silently, a gentle giant with eyes that seem to see through everyone’s soul.

“Me and Junior…” He continues as Genesis’ hand goes to her heart, taking in a deep breath that almost hurts, and she can’t help but chuckle slightly, turning and looking towards both objects, finding them surely fixed.

“Thank you…” She says after a moment, her voice quiet, carrying the vulnerability she normally doesn’t show out to the world.

“We’re family, Gen. We look out for each other, yeah?”

Genesis gives him a nod of understanding, watching as Ragga leaves, heading towards the stairs and Genesis turns back to the mess, glancing around the space once more, taking in all of her past before starting to clean up.

It’s not until close to midnight that things are back in place, organized, or thrown away. And exhausted from the journey and the emotional toll of the day, Genesis lets herself fall backwards onto her bed. The ceiling above is a blank canvas, stark and unyielding in its simplicity, so different from the complex tapestry of her mind. For a moment, she just lays there, breathing deeply with her eyes closed, grounding, feeling the rise and fall of her chest and listening to the hush of her room.

But soon she opens her eyes, turning her head to the right, her gaze settles on a picture that’s frame is propped up against the soft glow of her crystal lamp. The photograph— black and white, its edges worn from touch before she was able to frame it— is of a man with a joyous smile, dreads tucked under a knit beanie that lays very loosely on his head. His eyes are crinkled with genuine delight as he holds a baby close to his chest. The infant, secured in the safety of her father’s embrace, is oblivious to the depth of the moment now captured forever in time.

And Genesis whispers, a greeting that carries weight of years passed and words unspoken.

“Hi, Baba.”

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

It’s grey and windy in London, as Genesis makes her way to Exmouth Coffee. The city’s waking, the air filled with the familiar cacophony of distant traffic and the talkings from early risers. The smell of coffee from the coffee shops that seem to litter every corner fill her nose, mingling with the city’s exhaust, an urban scene that Genesis has come to associate as home.

As she nears her destination, her pace slows just a little, allowing her to take in the sights and sounds of the city more. It’s so different to her now, how she sees it.

Her eyes also catch sight of Letitia waiting ahead, her silhouette unmistakable against the classical facade of the cafe. Dressed casual, she seems absorbed in her phone, a thumb moving swiftly across her screen, but the soft sound of Genesis’ footsteps on the pavement reach her ears and she looks up, her expression softening, eyes lighting up with a gentle smile.

“Morning.” Letitia murmurs as Genesis gets close, their greeting culminating in a small, affectionate, peck of lips that feel like the final piece of Genesis’ morning clicking into place.

“Morning.” Genesis repeats, her voice low but infused with warmth.

They head inside, the air thick with the aroma of roasted coffee beans and sweet pastries. They both order hot chocolate, rich and decadent, a comforting switch from the usual morning caffeine, though Genesis has never been a coffee person at all.

Sitting at a small, intimate, table, their hot chocolates steam before them as Genesis recounts the previous evening, the homecoming. Letitia listens intently, her hand over Genesis’, offering silent comfort with a gentle rub of her thumb against Genesis’ wrist.

“…I don’t know, it just felt… different.” Genesis continues, her gaze flickering to their intertwined hands.

“A lot’s changed,” Letitia nods slightly, offering the smallest closed-lipped smile.

Genesis nods, a silent agreement, eyes moving to her untouched hot chocolate, a little steam still coming off of it, by surely drinkable by now. Yet, she doesn’t take a sip. And after a moment, Letitia’s grip on Genesis’ hand tightens slightly.

“There’s something I need to ask you.” Letitia begins tentatively, breaking the silence.

Genesis meets Letitia’s gaze, her brows furrowing slightly in curiosity.

“Would you want to come to Portugal with me?”

Genesis’ eyebrows furrow even more at her question, at the randomness of it. She doesn’t understand why she would have to be there, but before she can question it, Letitia continues.

“It’s only for a couple days with a few friends.” Letitia’s voice is hesitant, a touch quieter now. “And… Fidji’s going to be-“

“Your ex?” Genesis cuts her off in question.

“Yes, but-“

“I and I…” Genesis mutters, hanging her head slightly in annoyance, causing Letitia to lean closer.

“Hey, hey, hey, it’s not like that, I promise. This trip was planned months before.” Letitia attempts to plead her case quickly, keeping her tone as calm as possible. “I just… need you there, Gens.”

Letitia’s thumb had paused in its motion, her hand now squeezing Genesis’ gently and Genesis lifts her head, eyes searching Letitia’s worried expression, searching her eyes, looking at her.

She takes a deep breath after a moment, heavy, the weight of the decision weighing down on her chest, yet she still trusts Letitia, just enough.

“I’ll go with you.” Genesis says quietly, but firm, watching as Letitia’s face lights up. “But, to make sure yuh head stays on straight.”

“Nothing about me is straight.” Letitia murmurs in a playful tone, causing Genesis to playfully roll her eyes as Letitia chuckles giddily at herself before Genesis looks to her phone, a reminder that she has therapy in half an hour.

“‘Ight… I gotta go.” Genesis pushes herself up, her and Letitia’s hands finally separating as she grabs her hot chocolate, already in a to-go cup, slinging her bag back across her body. “See you tomorrow, yeah?”

Letitia catches the reluctance in Genesis’ voice and there’s a pang of sadness in her heart, a mixture of her overthinking their conversation and the overall emotion of not wanting Genesis to leave so soon. But she nods, and Genesis leans down slightly, kissing the top of Letitia’s head, on her cornrows before she moves towards the door, and Letitia’s head turns, watching her as she walks outside, turning right, heading opposite of Letitia’s position, the cold air greeting her quickly.

The days leading up to the trip slipped by like sand through an hourglass, each grain a moment of contemplation. Genesis stands before her open crossbody bag, its contents sparse but essential. She’s never been one to overpack, not that she’s ever had too much to work with, a few items of clothing, necessary toiletries, her sketchbook, and her camera.

As the day of departure dawns bright and early, still a grey sky filling the expanse, Genesis feels a flutter of nerves as she walks into the busy airport. Letitia had texted her the meeting point, past security, and after an hour of slow lines, she’s finally able to walk towards the space, her eyes landing on the familiar figure quickly.

Letitia’s presence is a beacon, her excitement palpable even from a distance with a big smile, and as their eyes meet, her eyes light up even more as she quickly closes the gap between them, hugging her tightly.

“I missed you.” Letitia whispers, words muffled by Genesis’ shoulder.

“You just saw me.”

But Letitia just shakes her head and they hold each other a moment longer before Letitia pulls back, taking Genesis’ hand gently, intertwining their fingers, and leading her to where the rest of the group sits, a small circle of mostly unfamiliar faces, yet Letitia doesn’t push any introductions or small talk, just leading Genesis to sit, staying close, her world seemingly shrinking to just the two of them.

The whispers they exchange are soft and intimate, gentle musings, reminiscent of actors sharing a secret joke between takes, a moment of genuine connection in midst of a scripted world. Letitia’s laughter is quiet, a sound that seems reserved just for Genesis in this last week together, her eyes crinkling with genuine happiness. Their shoulders brush together occasionally, a subtle contact that speaks of a mutual desire to remain connected.

And Genesis leans in closer, just a little, her face the same as it was when she arrived, calm, collected, yet her whisper brings a small knowing smile to Letitia’s lips. It’s a dance of dialogue, tender and loving.

Across from them, Fidji observes the scene unfold. The quiet exchanges don’t escape her notice, nor does the gentle way Genesis’ fingers reach up to gently run against Letitia’s cornrows. There’s a familiarity in these gestures, a language of touch and glance that speaks volumes.

Fidji’s glance is sharp, analytical, as if she’s trying to read this new and sudden dynamic. The way Letitia’s head tilts towards Genesis, the soft glow in her eyes. It wasn’t like that when Fidji was the one on her left side. Her lips press into a thin line, and she takes a slow sip of her drink, ice clinking against the glass like a punctuation to her unspoken thoughts. There’s an unmistakeable hint of distaste in her expression that reveals more than any words can, and she looks away before either of them notice, looking back to her sisters as they still continue to converse.

The boarding call for their flight eventually breaks the cocoon around Genesis and Letitia, the group gathering their belongings, the transition from the lounge shifting the energy surrounding them. Letitia stands, her hand slipping into Genesis’ with ease once more.

They join the line, the group’s dynamic subtly shifting at the reality of the departure setting in. Letitia’s hand gently squeezes Genesis’ as she leans in close to her ear, whispering.

“You okay?”

Genesis only nods and soon they finally cross the threshold into the bridge, the tight space bringing them even closer together, their quiet whispers seeming to funnel back to them, a reflection of their words and Letitia’s laughter remains quiet but heartfelt, an affectionate sound that seeps into Genesis’ heart.

Fidji walks several paces ahead, her posture perfect and stride confident, yet there’s a tightness around her eyes, acutely aware of Genesis and Letitia’s closeness from behind her. But she doesn’t look back, her grip on her boarding pass tightening, betraying her seemingly cool exterior, but they don’t notice.

The group files onto the plane, the seats of first-class wide and inviting, something Genesis has never experienced, a promise of comfort and isolation away from others.

They find their seats, beside one another, sinking into them, and Genesis looks around at all that’s available in this small space, and her eyes fall to Letitia, who gives her an almost teasing smile. But Genesis just slowly raises the cover between them, chuckling at Letitia’s playfully offended voice, before stopping, lowering it again, only doing it originally to mess with her.

As the plane eventually begins to taxi, Genesis slouches back in her seat, head resting back, allowing the engine to be her lullaby as her eyes start to fall closed, body still recovering from jet lag, and everything around her fades into darkness.

Suddenly, she sees the expansive field in Guyana, in the distance a fire roaring, casting the sky in an ominous glow. Yet, there’s nothing more.

But a single sound pierces through— the hum. A melody that seems to emerge from the very depths of her mind, the sound leaving the same effect it always does.

It’s a tune laden with emotion and history, yet she still doesn’t recognize it, she doesn’t see it as a thread connecting her to her past, calling to her. It’s just simply there, a calming vibration in the expanse of her subconscious, pulling her gently, leading her deeper in sleep.

As Genesis fades further into the dream, the landscape of which she sees begins to dissolve into shadow and the hum becomes everything, a soothing lullaby carrying her away and into the darkness. And soon, there’s only stillness.

Just the hum and the dark

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

Morning in Lisbon greets Genesis with a subtle shift, one she been observing silently since the night prior, Letitia’s generosity in paying for the suite, now seemingly fostering a sense of entitlement among the sisters, the ease in which they take her kindness as due.

They spent the morning exploring the city’s streets, walking as a group, but Letitia, who was a constant at Genesis’ side the day before, now moves with fluidity ahead, and Genesis’ eyes are on her back as she walks slightly behind Fidji, talking with her quietly and Genesis hears her laugh.

She lags behind, letting the distance grow, a small experiment to test if her absence from the constellation is noticed. But the movement and conversation just continues to move forward without pause, laughter and playful musings rising over the quiet-ish streets.

And Genesis only sighs, maintaining her pace as the pieces in her mind start to connect.

As the day trails on, Genesis notices the same things over and over, Letitia’s personality shifting to a person she’s not even sure she recognizes. It’s been her fear since that night in Milan, maybe even a little before that, and she knew she was going to have to keep an eye on it, and it’s what she expected.

They’re at a club in the night, a little separation in the group, maybe needed. Letitia and her friends are kind of gathered, drinking wine or whatever thing of alcohol is desired at the time, but Genesis remains in her quiet corner.

Letitia’s gaze lingers on Genesis from across the room, watching as she’s engaged in easy conversation with a girl who’s a stranger to them both. There’s an unmistakable tightness that grips Letitia’s heart, an unbidden discomfort at the sight of Genesis’ gentle laughter, even tentative, being shared with someone else. When the girl departs, leaving Genesis in her peace against the wall, Letitia feels the pull towards her, discarding her half-finished drink on the bar, weaving through the crowd towards Genesis.

“Who was that?” Letitia questions, standing close enough now to notice the subtle shift in Genesis’ demeanor.

“Nobody you need to be worried of,” Genesis replies, her voice light, almost teasing, chuckling slightly as she relaxes further against the cool wall.

“And you’re laughing?” Letitia can’t help but add, the tightness in her chest now manifesting in her words.

A beat of silence falls between them, heavy with unspoken thoughts, and Genesis pushes off from the wall and edged toward the exit after a moment.

“I need some air.” She mutters, eyes remaining away from Letitia and heading outside. Yet, she doesn’t get far before she hears Letitia’s footsteps behind her, followed by her voice.

“Where are you going?” Letitia asks, following after her quickly, yet Genesis continues forward. But Letitia soon catches her, moving her body in front of hers, blocking her path.

“Move!” She calls out to her, but Letitia doesn’t budge, and Genesis pushes her back lightly, freezing in her steps. “Move, Tish!”

The reaction causes for Letitia to look at her, eyebrows slightly furrowed towards her, but Genesis’ expression is firm.

“Why you acting like some jealous teenage boy? Now you notice me, eh?”

“You think things changed suddenly? To make you go do that?” She motions to the club.

“Some things definitely changed.” Genesis says bitterly, eyes remaining on Letitia’s. “Whenever you used to do all this, the parties, the clubs, go with all types of people from who knows where doing who knows what. I know why yuh friends leave-“

“They left cause them didn’t like the life.” Letitia’s very adamant, speaking with her hands, but Genesis shakes her head. “What do you want me to do? Just suffer and suffer-“

“We are suffering, I done suffer and you didn’t even know!“ Genesis raises her voice. “Yuh used to come and go, I had to watch you with all those women-“

“And you’re any different?”

In that moment, a sound falls off of Genesis’ lips, a slight sucking sound, audible of distaste and annoyance as she attempts to walk past her again, only to have her bicep grabbed and Genesis swings, her hand coming into contact with Letitia’s cheek, the sound not too harsh, but audible enough to turn Letitia’s head, her hand flying to her cheek as she turns her head back towards her, yet it’s not from pain, but from the surprise of Genesis’ action. A rare break in her always steady composure both of them staring at each other in the tension.

“Who really care for you, Tish? Your ‘friends’… spending all your money, using your likeness…”

In the aftermath of the unexpected contact, a shock runs through both women, an electric current of reality jarring them from the night’s indulgent fantasy.

“You swim in pollution, you get polluted,” Genesis continues, pressing her finger to her chest with conviction, her gesture punctuating her plea. It’s a reminder of their shared values, of conversations that had previously woven the fabric of their bond—conversations about authenticity, integrity, and the seductive danger of losing oneself to a world that takes more than it gives.

Their eyes lock then, two forces of nature caught in a moment of raw honesty. Genesis’ words hanging in the air between them, a stark truth that strips away the veneer of the evening’s glamour.

“We used to talk of this and everything else when you only had a few fancy shirts!” Genesis’s fingers grip the material of Letitia’s jacket, a tactile echo of her words. “It’s time to wake up. Wake up, Tish!”

The air around them is charged with the intensity of the moment. Letitia’s eyes, previously hardened by defensiveness, are now more gentle, the layers of realization and vulnerability blending into a look of awakening. She can see Genesis— not just the woman before her, but the essence of the person she knows, the one who has always dared to speak the truth, no matter how uncomfortable. The one who’s always been there to catch her.

And she can finally see the reality of the life she’s brought onto herself

Increasing overwhelmed and overstimulated, Genesis attempts to pull away, a well of emotions churning inside her, starting to walk off, but Letitia’s instincts kick in quickly. She catches up, reaching out swiftly, her fingers wrapping around Genesis’s forearm, an unspoken plea for her to not react like she did a moment ago. Genesis’ muscles tense in response, her instinct to flee momentarily overwhelming her desire to reconcile, something Letitia can feel.

“Genesis, wait,” Letitia implores, her voice tinged with desperation.

Genesis’s movement doesn’t halt much, though her body language speaks of her inner turmoil. She continues to try and step forward, to extricate herself from the situation, but Letitia isn’t letting her slip away, not now, not like this.

In a fluid motion born out of urgency, Letitia steps closer, her arms encircling Genesis in a firm yet gentle hold.

“I’m sorry,” she repeats, her voice a whisper against the night. “Please.”

Genesis’ natural instinct is to resist, to shake off the hold and find refuge in the quiet streets of Lisbon. She still tries to pull away, her movements born of a reflex to escape confrontation and vulnerability. But Letitia, driven by a sudden clarity of what’s at stake, refuses to let her go again.

“I’m sorry…” Letitia murmurs again, a mantra of reconciliation. “I’m sorry…”

The words reverberate through the small space they occupy, weaving a spell that seems to slow the world around them. Genesis can hear the genuine regret in Letitia’s tone, the vibration of her voice repeating the words over and over in her ear, resonating with a truth that’s impossible to ignore.

And something in Genesis yields, a wall within her crumbling, allowing the sincerity of the moment to seep through the cracks. Her body relaxes against Letitia’s, the fight to pull away diminishing with each shared breath, each whispered word.

In the cocoon of Letitia’s arms, Genesis allows the silence to envelop them, a sanctuary from the night’s earlier chaos, now filled only with the sound of their breathing and the distant melody from the club’s interior.

The embrace becomes their entire world, a haven amidst uncertainty. Letitia’s apologies still continue, even more hushed, hanging in the air, her breath warm on Genesis’s ear, a silent testament to the intensity of the moment.

Genesis soon shifts ever so slightly, her movements delicate but intentional, gently pulling Letitia back enough to see her face, and without a word, Genesis closes the small distance between them, pressing her lips to Letitia’s, shutting up her quiet ramble, grounding her.

The kiss lingers, a slow and gentle mingling that speaks volumes, each soft brush of their lips a reaffirmation of connection and care. And when they finally pull away, there’s a breathless quality to the space between them, as if the air itself is charged with the intensity and tension radiating off of them.

Letitia’s eyes remain closed for a moment longer, savoring the feeling. Genesis’ does as well, brushing a thumb across Letitia’s cheek, tracing the line where her own hand had made contact earlier, erasing any remnants of the night’s earlier tension.

“Don’t lose yourself… yuh hear?” Genesis voices quietly, voice still breathless. “And you do all that again and I’m gone.”

There’s silence between them even as Letitia nods in understanding, relaxing under Genesis’ touch.

Letitia’s eyes flutter open, her gaze looking upon Genesis with a vulnerability that only the raw honesty of love can elicit, the threat hanging in the air between them is a revelation, a crystallizing moment that anchors Letitia to the spot.

They head back to the hotel with fingers entwined, Letitia leading the way to a newly acquired room, a decision made in silent understanding that they need isolation from the sisters, from everything that can intrude on the sanctity of the newfound understanding. She procurers them their own space, a quiet sanctuary where the outside world can be kept at bay, allowing them to be alone with each other and their thoughts.

The room’s dimly lit, the soft glow of bedside lamps casting gentle shadows across the walls, creating a cocoon of warmth and privacy. They lay side by side on the bed, their bodies close but not touching, enveloped in a shared silence that’s as comforting as it is communicative. The tumultuous emotions of the night have given way to a calm understanding, a quiet acknowledgment of the depth of their connection.

As they lay there, the noise of the city seems distant, irrelevant even. The quiet between them, a healing space, a soft fabric woven from threads of tension and tender realization. Letitia soon turns her head to look at Genesis, her eyes conveying the emotions that words can scarcely capture.

“Thank you,” She whispered, her voice barely audible yet clear in the stillness of the room. “Thank you for finding me.”

It’s a simple statement, but laden with meaning—recognition of how Genesis has seen through the facade, has reached past the surface and pulled Letitia back from the brink of losing herself. It’s an acknowledgment of Genesis’s strength, her unwillingness to let Letitia drift away, and her courage in confronting the painful truths.

Genesis turns to face Letitia, their eyes meeting in the semi-darkness, a silent conversation passing between them. She reaches out then, her hand gently brushing Letitia’s cheek once more, a mirror of the earlier gesture that had marked the beginning of their night’s emotional journey.

Her gaze is full of emotion and in the semi-darkness, their eyes lock, communicating more than words ever can. The air around them seems charged with the intensity of their connection, each breath a shared rhythm.

Slowly, almost hesitantly, Genesis leans in, pressing her lips to Letitia’s in a kiss.

And she can feel it. How the woman she knew had returned to her.

#vees recs

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shurislover · 20 days

Text

not a thing in my name.

a/n: everybody and they mama was in shambles. It’s not my fault YEW chose Tori mane 😭 (I’m just kidding plz don’t get me) so I made this part 2 🙏🏽 I’m personally not the biggest fan of this part 2, but Ik you all have been waiting for it. I was conflicted on how to end this piece and I’m scared that it shows 💀

Here’s part 1

🎶: @pvnks0ul @fentibeauty @onyxstones-world @kissvamps @shurislover @eringranola @elyxiir @oceean @teadah18 @ririshotgf @blushyrawrz @imnotb

A part of you has begun to hate fame. At the same time, you’re grateful for everything, for everyone. You’ve started to hate how invasive everyone has become. There’s a camera in your face every single time you step into your home. There’s always some sort of hateful tweet or Instagram comment which is mostly due to your lack of management. The only person that you know that was ever good with hooking you on to others was Riri.

She’s barely in your life so things aren’t the same. You have a whole group of people with you at all times. Especially on your tour. It’s so close to ending with LA as its last location.

You finally make it to your hotel room with Tori trailing behind you. She seems to be enjoying the fame, she’s gained quite a bit since your relationship is now public. Now it’s broadcasted, and everyone’s wondering who she is. And since you’re with her all the time, you decided that she might as well be a part of your team, as a manager. She manages your schedule, and what time everything happens.

The real reason is so she can communicate with anyone that needs to reach you. Riri included. Not that you can’t speak to her but you wouldn’t be able to handle interacting with her after what happened four months ago. So you have Tori handle it.

“Damn, New York! I did not miss this,” She chuckles as you chuck your heels off. You’re exhausted but you offer a curt smile anyway.

“Yeah, same.” You agree. You rush into the lush bathroom, ripping off your lashes, and wiping off your makeup. You slip into the shower quickly and head out in a fluffy robe to hear Tori on the phone. She’s sitting on the edge of the California-sized Bed, tightly gripping the phone. She catches you at the door frame and visibly relaxes.

“Yeah but you know she got early mornings tomorrow, I don’t think you should come.” She says with some edge to her voice. You approach her, watching her eyes trail over your frame before you cup her cheek. You’d like to think that your relationship is fixing itself. You’re starting to feel like the boredom is stability.

“Who was that?”

“No one.” She promises while wrapping her arms around your waist.

…

You can’t spend your mornings admiring the beautiful city or taking walks like you used to. There’s something nostalgic about being in New York again. It’s like being home again. Despite how irritating it can get, and ending up at the 125th by accident, you’ve missed the chaos of it all.

But, you can’t have everything. You can’t stand still and admire anything either. So you get ready in the morning while it’s still dark. While rubbing cream into your face, you notice the deep bags that have begun to form beneath your eyes after a hot shower.

Sleep has been difficult lately. Not only do you get six hours at best, the quality of it sucks. The mattress in the hotel is barely comfortable to you, too soft. You find yourself sinking in silk sheets at night. And it doesn’t help that you get super cold, Tori likes to keep to her side of the bed and nine times out of ten her back is facing your own so warmth from her isn’t even an option.

You step out of the bathroom, dressed in dark sweats and a gray hoodie to match. You barely look done up, but that’s not anything you're concerned about right now.

You sit at the foot of the bed, reaching for Tori to pull her out of sleep.

“Tori, c’mon, wake up.” You breathe out. She wakes up with a jolt, looking around and forcing a chuckle out of your lips.

…

“That was gorgeous! Y/N!” A manager speaks, hollering from the empty crowd. A thin layer of sweat covers your body as you finally take in a needed deep breath. You don’t remember this hurting so bad during your last performance. You see hundreds of seats in front of you, but they aren’t filled just yet. You’re sure they will be in less than 13 hours. You had to go over your entire routine, it’s a lot. More than you’ve ever done but you’ve worked through it and that’s all that matters. A manager of the venue wanted to watch you rehearse and seems to have enjoyed it. You smile at him in thanks and sit on the edge of the stage, reaching for the water bottle next to you.

After a while, you go backstage to find Tori on the phone. She notices you and smiles.

“Alright, I’ll call you back.” She says, quickly stuffing her phone in her pockets.

“I heard you, you sounded good, babe.” She smiles as her hand grazes your arm. She takes a step closer to you and lowers just a bit to whisper into your ear.

“After this event, we could-“ You begin.

Her phone rings again. She takes a step back, smiling at you before walking away. You’ve been trying your best to fix everything. To bring you back to the way things were before. She’s been on the phone more often than usual lately. You’re sure it’s just to manage your schedule and whatnot so you don’t question it.

…

By the time the performance is broadcast all over social media, you’re already on a plane to LA for your next location. Tori decided to linger in the last tour location, saying she had things to wrap up.

You blast some Sade up into your headphones and lean back into your seat. First class seats weren’t anything that you were able to experience back then so you take advantage of it now and do your best to relax despite the headache beginning to form. You close your eyes, the aches in your body finally releasing.

Before you can truly relax, you blink your eyes open, looking around to see a familiar head. A woman is sitting across the other isle right next to you, facing the window but with gorgeous braids and spare curls gracefully falling next to them. She’s not sitting normally, instead, she has one foot perched up on the seat and low-hanging sweats. She turns around and meets your gaze.

Riri.

You blink again and do your best to shake the thought out of your head. When your vision clears you realize that it’s just a woman that you’ve never seen, dressed in regular clothing at that.

You’ve been trying not to think about her. The guilt is beginning to chew at you again. She was one of the realest people you will ever meet in this industry. The way you ended was messy but you wished she was at least still a friend. But you can’t have that. You can’t have her and Tori at the same time, she told you herself.

“I want nothing less. I don't want to be the other woman.”

She couldn’t ever possibly be the other woman.

…

“Thank you! Los Angeles!” You yell out onstage. This is your second to last show and you went all out. Your adrenaline is at an all-time high like it always is when you’re on stage but all you can focus on is how much these platform heels are killing your ankles. The crowd is so loud you can’t hear yourself and the beat of your music is just as loud if not louder than they are.

The song You were originally supposed to end with was the last one you made with Riri but it was somehow scrapped from the list. You don’t know how or why but right before you got up on stage, Tori had told you to not bother performing It.

You get backstage, relieved that you’re finally done with All the performing and exhaustion. You don’t see Tori backstage like you expected.

It’s Riri in the flesh. Or at least you think it is so blink once, really hard to focus. She can’t be here but you’ll take your chances.

You wrap your arms around her shoulders, tightening so you’re pressed against each other.

“I missed you.” You smile as she rubs your back. She looks the same for the most part, her style is still on point.

You pull away to get a good look at her, she’s in a white oversized tee and some baggy jeans. You notice some concealer but only because it’s covering the pretty marks on her skin that you’d love to see. Gold on the bottom row of her teeth and her chain glimmers in the dim light but you don’t mention it.

“You look good, ma, damn. I saw you up there and I was like, damn.” She praises you. You missed her voice too. So much that you feel like it’ll bring you to tears. You’ve needed some sort of good thing to happen to you lately.

This is wearing you down and you feel like you’ve finally found comfort.

“How are you here?” You question while her hand rests on your waist.

“I ordered the tickets a long ass time ago, I talked to yo girl and she was cool wimme being backstage, I know it’s your second last.” She remembers. Of course, she does. You do your best to memorize the feel of her hands on your skin, the calloused slightly fingertips and soft palms. You feel her hands slowly leave you and the energy shifts once she begins to look at the floor and then at you, like she’s somehow anxious. That’s new. “I wanted to see you one last time. I’m moving away from Chicago…I need something new, calmer. I found some cabin in Montana which is weird, but…I think I need to go somewhere quiet.” She says. You swear you stop breathing. Her hand rubs against the skin of your hip as comfort. This is good for her. “You’ve always been on that spiritual shit, anyway.” You smile while feeling the prick of tears in the back of your eyes and the gentle shaking in your voice. You watch her chuckle, the biggest smile forming on her face. Oh, how you’ve missed her. And now she’s leaving. “Good luck with your tour, baby.” She doesn’t attempt to kiss you on the cheek. Instead, she brings your hand to her lips, kissing them the same way she did at that party and staining you with her touch. You pull her into a hug one more time. You want to tell her that you love her. That you don’t want to be in the music industry without her. That you so badly want to drop everything to go in the middle of nowhere with her. You want to tell her that you wish you weren’t so scared. She hugs you back, securing her arms around your frame. “You were never the other woman.” You admit despite the lump in your throat. “I know, baby.” And with that, she’s gone.

…

Chicago feels weird when you’re back. You should be ecstatic. Your last show is in your hometown. Your career is taking off, you’re becoming a household name. Artists are blowing up your phone and begging to collaborate with you. Labels want to sign you. Fans recognize you when you walk out of the house. It’s amazing but so suffocating.

“You've been off lately,” Tori says from the shower. You continue to do your mascara in the mirror. She’s humming the song that you had made with Riri. It makes you think back to why she had cut it out of the list. “Why’d you take the song out?” You suddenly ask, hearing the hot water cut out. “Ion need everybody listening to it, You made it for me.” She says before beginning to go on and on about your love for her, which you would be paying attention to if there wasn’t constant buzzing in your ear. You look down and hear the buzz in her sweats on the floor. It’s not her usual phone, it’s a different color with a different case. You stand upright and before you can see a contact name, you feel steam right behind you and watch her grasp the phone. “Work phone, Let me answer it.” She insists, barely giving you room to answer before leaving. ..

That phone call turned into some sort of meeting that she dressed too well for. She for some reason wore her best cologne and made sure her hair looked right. Tori left you with a kiss on your forehead before heading out of the house. She’s been gone for five hours. The same way she knows you, the same way you know her. You ain’t fucking dumb. You’ve spent the last five hours on the couch, zoning out and coming back to reality. You saw this coming, especially with her constantly taking too many calls, staying in tour locations without you, her quickly hanging up when you came around. You wait for her to step back into your shared apartment. She has a grin on her face. You feel stupid for not having seen this coming. She tosses her two phones and car keys on the glass coffee table in front of you. “Where were you?” You question while she sits next to you on the couch. She scoots closer and you let her. She looks flushed and all you can think about is how much you used to love her. Her eyes grow wide and you’re sure the look on your face is enough for her to know that you know. “Babe-” “How long?” You ask, it’s not fair. You knew she was insecure about Riri but you never pinned her as the type. “What the fuck are you on?” She curses, damn near yelling before standing up. A loud repeated buzzing turns her quiet. She looks at you like you’ve slapped her. “Pick up and put it on speaker.” You order. She takes in a deep breath before doing as asked. You keep your eyes on her own before she taps the screen. “Hey baby-” A feminine voice greets her through the phone, she sounds so fucking irritating.

She knows it’s the end of your relationship. …

“Thank you, Chicago…truly. I’m honored to finish my tour here.” You watch the video of you ending your tour. It was amazing, the fans were perfect, the energy was everything. Now you sit in a cab on your way to your apartment.

You figured that Tori cheated on you because of Riri. She had been with the mystery girl for a year and a half. If it was after Riri maybe you would’ve given her some chance. Even before Riri, she had been with someone, perhaps that’s why she was so tolerant for so long. You didn’t ask for many details just for how long. She tried to make excuses about how she didn’t feel cared for and how she always felt like you saw her as some sort of pawn. As far as you know, Right now she’s packing her bags and making her way out of your apartment. You won’t know until you get back home. “We’re here, Ma’am.” The cab driver, you leave him with a generous tip before quickly making it home. You need to be home, your bones are beginning to ache and so are your joints.

As you approach your apartment you swear you hear shifting and a voice. The closer you get, the more distinct it becomes. It’s not Tori for sure, It’s some woman with a grating moan that you hear sounds too fake to be true. You quietly walk through the door only to find a naked body on top of your ex. You stand there in silence, crossing your arms. You already thought it was crazy for her to have been cheating on you for months. But for her to fuck in your apartment, that’s another level of disrespect. You knock on the doorframe, watching both of them jump like they’ve got blood on their hands. She’s riding your ex like there’s no tomorrow. “What the—Y/N, You..” Tori starts breathlessly.

“Be out in ten minutes.” …

Your finger hovers over Riri’s contact name. Her photo is cute, it’s a selfie of the two of you in her studio. You’re sitting on your washer, cleaning the fucking fluids off your couch cover while a tall glass of wine sits in your palm.

You miss her. So much. This breakup should hurt. You’ve known Tori for so long but for some reason, it doesn’t hurt. You feel relieved instead.

“I’m not gonna be your second choice, Y/N. I refuse to be an option, okay?”

Riri was never the second choice. And all you’ve thought about since your career has taken off is her. She should have her arm wrapped around your waist at events. She should be the one driving you home.

You would hate to see her again and have her feel like she was the last option. So you decide that maybe it’s about time you fix that.

….

Turns out she really went to fucking Montana. You double check her location which she gave you ages ago. You’re close, right next to each other almost. It’s bright out, after a rough night at your apartment. You abruptly decided that there was no use in waiting to not go see her. So you chose to book an early flight.

It’s beautiful, there are mountains everywhere and it looks like she’s alone. You walk up the steps of the cabin’s porch. Maybe this is a horrible idea. Maybe she’s moved on. She could very well have already moved on.

There’s a light chill this morning. You raise your hand and knock at the door, waiting for a response.

“How’d you find me, y/n?” She questions. She doesn’t make a single sound of irritation. There’s a small smile on her face and her toned frame is showcased because of the sleeveless top she has on.

She doesn’t look like the Riri you know but she does. She doesn’t have any makeup on, no lashes done, she’s barefaced with her hair slicked back in a neat bun. She’s still so beautiful. She looks happy. Less stressed.

You can’t help but smile at the sight of her. She looks all the same for the most part, so carefree, with a small smile on her face and blissed eyes.

You smell her vanilla perfume that brings you home every time. It reminds you of a home that you don’t recognize. It just feels right. She feels right.

“A lot happened and I missed you.” You admit, still a little afraid of her reaction.

“Just say you still got my location…Come here.” She laughs before grabbing your hand and pulling you into her arms. You don’t hug her back immediately. But then eventually you settle into her touch for a while. She pulls away to get a good look at you.

Her eyes are dilated, more than you’ve ever seen them. You’ve never had the privilege of admiring her up close. She’s so beautiful, you knew that already but watching her from a distance is different. Her hand is gentle against your cheekbone. Her sweet eyes scan over your makeup that’s somehow still dewy although it’s been hours since you put it on.

“You hate red lipstick,” She points out at your stained lips. You’re confused before thinking back to what she’s talking about. In your last performance in Chicago, your lips were a vibrant shade that you hate. She’s not wrong, you hate how much attention it draws but you’re glad she’s seen it. She’s been keeping up with you.

“That hasn’t changed.” You murmur, watching her reach her thumb to your skin to wipe at your lip as if the lipstick is still there.

“Come in,”

….

“Oh damn, so she has been fuckin’ somebody else,” Riri says with raised brows and a hushed tone. A sour taste grows in your mouth even though you know it shouldn’t.

“I guess.” You murmur while looking around Riri’s place. Most of the interior is just the old warm decor she had at her old place. Her guitar sits up against the wooden wall next to the fireplace. You see why she moved here. It’s gorgeous and all you hear is birds chirping outside.

You take a sip of the hot chocolate she’s made for you before leaning back onto the couch.

“I’m sorry ‘bout that, baby.” She comforts you while inching closer to you and rubbing your knee. The pet name makes you melt all over again. She leans back, watching the fire pit.

“You going back to the city soon?” You wonder.

“Mhm…in a couple of months. I can’t let down my artists. I’ve been working from home for the most part.” She comments.

“I’ve missed you.” You admit. You haven’t felt this calm and centered in a long time. It’s just so quiet. It’s just you and her.

“Me too.” She agrees while both of you look at each other. She’s always been good with eye contact but this is something different. You wonder if she’s always looked at you like this.

You know she won’t take the initiative to lean in so you do and eventually she follows, the hand she had on her knee moves up to your waist and you’re so close you could count the cute little freckles by her eyes.

Your lips ghost over each other and you almost taste the mango-flavored chapstick on her lips before her face tenses.

“I can’t be your rebound either, Y-“

You ignore the sheer irritation brewing in you before leaning in to kiss her. You pull away to gauge her reaction, her chest is rising and falling at a pace you don’t think you’ve ever seen before.

“You can’t be a rebound when you were never the other woman, And I’m sorry that it took so long for me to realize that,” You blurt and for the first time, you can’t tell what she’s feeling. Her hands wrap around your face as she speaks.

“Took you long enough.”

She kisses you again and she doesn’t stop until your lips go numb.

#vees recs

74 notes · View notes

shurislover · 22 days

Text

no woman, no cry (chapter two)

warnings. false awakening dreams. memories. bob marley face claim. tension. fluff. awkward relationships. unease. self-love. body dysmorphia. insecurity. another oc. alcohol. hand-holding. anxiety. disconnection. gentle touches. reoccurring dream

notes. a little early release… i was going to post this tomorrow afternoon but my day became busy from start to finish, and i’m too excited to keep this from you until monday. and we’re jumping right into it ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

The sound of rain resonates in the air as her vision comes slowly, blearily. She finds herself gazing towards a window in her slouched state, her eyes squinting slightly as she tries to make sense of what she sees. The window pane is stippled with raindrops, tinting the view of the outside world. Beyond the rain-covered glass, the landscape seems to move at a mild pace, a dreamlike blur of muted colors and softened edges.

Inside the car, the steady hum of the engine melts into the sound of tires moving across the wet road and the water it holds, creating a constant, soothing, undertone to the rain’s heavy drumming. But amidst these sounds, there’s one that stands out, a human sound.

The humming of a man’s voice.

The voice is rich, each note vibrating with years of experience and a comfort in its own steady rhythm. It’s the kind of hum that wraps itself around her, a sound that soothes her troubled soul, resonating with an almost paternal calm.

She lets her eyes droop closed again in their heavy state, allowing the auditory tapestry to wash over her, the humming voice drowning out both the soundscape of the moving car and the drumming of the rain, and it’s then that a flash hits her from behind her eyes.

She then comes to see the face of an elderly man, the features on his dark melanin skin creased with the passage of time, but his eyes kind and alive with a spark of youthful energy, and he stands before her, his presence commanding gentle respect. In his hands, he holds a Bible, its dark cover worn from years of use, and with a motion of tenderness, he extends the book towards her, his voice resonant with firm affection.

“Take care on the road, Genesis.” He says, his words simple but heavy with meaning, carrying the weight that is both of a warning and a blessing with the accent that’s woven into her.

Then the flash fades, almost as quick as it came, and with it, the humming slowly ceases, leaving only the sound of rain to fill the silence.

And she stirs, her eyes fluttering open slowly. For a moment, she lingers on the edge of consciousness, her mind a haze of both her dream-state and reality intertwining, threads of memory weaving through the fabrics of her awakening thoughts. The sound of the rain still resonates in her ears, a reminder of the world outside, yet a sound that still draws a bridge between now and the dream.

She lays there, the remnants of her dream clinging to her like a gentle mist, the elderly man and his parting words vivid in her mind’s eye. And she remembers, it’s an actual memory.

Her senses gradually sharpen, pulling her further from the realm of sleep, her ears becoming more acutely aware of the rain, how it falls softer now, compared to last night. And with a deep, steadying, breath, Genesis allows her awareness to expands the initial disorientation of her waking fading as she sets herself in the now. The hotel room’s still dimly lit from last night, and the air feels cool, a refreshing contrast to the warmth of her own body, bundled under the oversized hoodie and sweats.

Turning her head to the left, slowly, Genesis’ gaze finds Letitia lying asleep peacefully, breathing even and undisturbed. Her features are relaxed, the kind of deep, untroubled, sleep that comes from exhaustion or even just peace of a now unburdened mind. She forgot to cover her cornrows before they laid down, and Genesis knows she’ll have to redo them, but in the moment of the night, that was the last thing either of them were worried about.

Despite the calmness exuding from Letitia’s peaceful sleep, a residual unease from Genesis’ dream lingers. Her mind can’t help but start to race, trying to search for any reasoning to its significance in the moment, as well as her and Letitia’s current situation, cause quiet turmoil within her.

Genesis carefully begins to maneuver out of the bed. Every slow shift and lift of her limbs is calculated to avoid any uncontrolled movements or sudden shifts that might pull Letitia from her own sleep. Her feet touch the floor with a softness, barely making a sound, her weight shifting as she eases herself up and out of the embrace of the bedding.

The distance to the bathroom seems long given the moment, but her steps remain silent. It’s something she’s been good at since she was a child, being able to not make a sound like that. And as Genesis reaches the bathroom, she pauses momentarily at the entrance, hand resting lightly on the frame, looking back to Letitia for a moment, savoring the sight of her like this before she steps inside the space, flicking the lights on.

She rubs her eyes with her fingertips as she approaches the mirror, her reflection greeting her, gazing back. It’s a silent, expectant, tableau, half of it her own features, the other seemingly morphing into the image of her father. He has a striking resemblance to Bob Marley, but with darker melanin skin. His features are a ghostly overlay of her own, his eyes so like hers, carrying stories of joy and struggle, wisdom and warmth, echoing a past that is both cherished and painful.

The convergence is too poignant, too laden with unresolved feelings. She feels a tightening in her chest from the surge of emotions that she’s not ready to confront right now. With a sudden, jerking, movement, she looks away, her gaze dropping to the sink below. She turns on the faucet, cold water coming forth, cascading down with a clarity that seems at odds with the morning turmoil inside her.

Cupping her hands, Genesis collects the icy water, splashing it onto her face in an attempt to wash away the thoughts of her racing mind, to erase the bridge between memory and reality for even just a moment. The water’s chill is a shock, a tactile counterpoint to her inner turmoil, droplets careening down her skin, each one a tiny shock of awakening on its own. She repeats the action for a longer escape.

But after, she ceases her actions, the last of the water dripping from her skin as she reaches for a towel. With a deep, steadying, breath, she rubs the fabric on her face, absorbing whatever wetness is left. But as she lowers it, her gaze catches the reflection in the mirror.

There, in the dim lighting of the bathroom reflecting against the outside area, she finds Letitia, her presence silent as she leans against the doorframe. Her gaze is heavy, fixed on Genesis with an intensity that pierces through the distance between them.

Her eyes meet hers in the mirror, and Genesis feels how her heartbeat picks up in her chest. But she tries to push the feeling back, or tries to, for now. There’s things they have to do.

“You wanna keep the braids?” She asks, her voice steady, her emotional turmoil set aside, referring to Letitia’s styled cornrows.

Letitia’s eyebrows furrow slightly as she looks at her, eyes searching for something beneath the surface of her causal question. The memory of the previous night’s vulnerability, confessions of love and small acts of it shown raw, and a promise, just before her eyes closed, seemingly weaved them into a new dynamic, now hanging in the air between them. Letitia’s mind can’t help but race, juxtaposing the intensity and rawness of the emotional exposure of last night with the present, where Genesis appears to be glossing over it.

“Um… yeah- yes…” She manages a response finally, hesitant words stuttering off her lips as she tries to read her, trying to understand if this sudden shift from the night before is a defense mechanism, the one they spoke of, the one Genesis has always had trouble with. It’s a way for Genesis to protect herself.

She watches as Genesis steps forward, moving past her, out of the bathroom. Letitia’s eyebrows furrow a little more, turning and trailing behind her, watching as she reaches for the bag she had on her yesterday, pulling out a smaller, clear, bag. The contents of the bag—a variety of tools and small bottles filled with water and what has to be leave in conditioner, and hair oil—speaks to her years doing things as such.

Genesis then moves towards the bed, grabbing one of the pillows and places it on the floor, in front of the full-length mirror that’s situated by the end of the bed before positioning herself, sitting on the edge of the bed, feet at either side of the pillow. Turning her head slightly, she offers Letitia the smallest, most gentle, smile, and a nod, a silent ask for her to join.

Letitia moves to sit on the pillow between Genesis’ legs, carefully positioning herself, adjusting her body slightly to find the right angle of comfort and the closeness necessary for Genesis to work on her hair. The room, filled with the dim lighting and what’s now only a slight drizzle of rain echoing quietly in the space.

Genesis reaches for one of the small spray bottles, holding it a few inches away from Letitia’s hair, and pressing down, a fine mist of what begins to cascade down onto Letitia’s hair. The droplets are light and cool, refreshing and soothing as she sprays all around her head, making sure every inch is covered with enough water before she grabs the other small bottle, a leave-in conditioner that she sprays on as well before Letitia feels her stop, undoing the small tie in the back of the style. She sprays some of the conditioner into her hand before using it on the ends of the braids, Letitia’s ears picking up every sound.

She then moves her hands to begin the process of unbraiding each cornrow. With every row she unbraids, Genesis fingers move with a care that conveys not just her skill but also the respect for the hair she’s tending to. Letitia, for her part, sits calmly, her body relaxed, fully immersed in the tranquility of the moment. The intimacy of the act, coupled with the quiet of the room, creates a blissful bubble around them.

As Genesis finishes releasing the last of the braids, Letitia’s hair falling to her cheekbones, more curls than coils in the moment, Genesis takes out the tail-end comb, drawing it back with a smooth motion to create a new center part for the foundation of the new rows.

She then proceeds to start braiding in sections, mindful of the tension created by the braiding being tight, thinking of Letitia’s ever so present scalp sensitivity. Beginning at the scalp, tight enough to be secure, she weaves the strands, following the natural contours of Letitia’s head.

Letitia relaxes into it, the feeling soothing compared to how others do it. Genesis’ approach is meticulous, assuring that the tension across Letitia’s scalp is evenly distributed, preventing any unnecessary pulling that could lead to discomfort.

As Genesis continues her work, she suddenly feels a gentle pressure against her left calf, knowing it’s Letitia’s arm, wrapping around her in a gesture so natural. The contact’s unassuming, yet intimate, an expression of trust and connection that doesn’t need words to validate its sincerity. Genesis takes a quick glance up to the mirror, taken slightly aback by the gesture, catching Letitia’s reflection.

She finds her looking down at her phone, her posture relaxed, her left arm around Genesis’ calf seeming like an effortless extension of her being. It’s like a quiet testament to both the comfort, the familiarity, between them, and the natural intimacy that’s woven its way between them. There’s a casualness to Letitia’s actions, like it’s something she’s been doing forever. In a way it’s true, just not like this.

“I want you to come with me.” Letitia says suddenly, her voice soft yet clear, cutting through the silence.

Genesis pauses, her hands frozen in their movements at the unexpected request. Her eyebrows knit together, both confusion and surprise consuming her whole being.

A light chuckle leaves Letitia’s lips as she glances up from her phone, her eyes meeting Genesis’ in the mirror.

“I mean it.” She reaffirms her statement, her gaze steady, conveying the sincerity of her request and a brief moment of silence consumes the space between them, charged with unspoken emotions and thoughts, and Letitia begins to worry she’s overstepped as Genesis remains quiet. “I-I don’t want to make you feel like you have to if you’re not comfortable…”

Letitia’s request and her quick reassurance acknowledges the complexities of their individual personalities, a soothing blanket over Genesis’ initial anxiety.

“I… I don’t have anything to wear.”

“There’s an extra outfit.” Letitia admits, almost sheepishly. “It was, um…”

Genesis doesn’t need her to finish to know, causing her eyes to narrow slightly, something that Letitia quickly takes note of.

“It’s not like that, I promise you.”

Her tone is vulnerable slightly, and raw, settling into Genesis’ heart, her gaze softening when she can’t find any other intent behind her eyes.

“Hopeful wanderer…” Genesis finally says, trailing off, and Letitia’s eyebrows furrow in the slightest at her words, only Genesis understanding her words are symbolism for her ask.

But she nods and Letitia’s eyes light up a little, a smile turning her lips up brightly, almost giddy as she looks back down at her phone. Genesis’ eyes linger on the reflection for a second, a gentle smile turning her lips upward, feeling a flutter in her chest as she looks back down to her hair, her fingertips still working through Letitia’s hair.

When she finishes, starting to put her tools back in the small, clear, bag, and Letitia looks up, turning her head to either side, examining the refreshed look in the mirror. Genesis watches as Letitia’s eyes light up with a playful spark of vanity, gently running a hand softly over the braids, feeling the texture.

“Okay, okay, I see you…” She says teasingly, her voice deep, still a little raspy from sleep. “Look at my beautiful face!”

Genesis can’t help but roll her eyes at her playful manner, a slight smirk turning up her lips as she softly hits the side of her head, leaving Letitia to duck into herself slightly, only out of reflex, chuckling.

But the moment’s short lived, suddenly interrupted by a series of knocks on the door. Letitia stands from her place on the floor, and walks to the door, opening it to reveal Shiona, her main stylist for events, who steps into the room with a whirlwind of energy.

“I hope that rain holds off cause it was like the skies opened up last night.” Shiona begins, walking in with a bag, as well as a couple clothing pieces in covers, sighing as she places the dress on the hanger in the open closet space. “And have you seen Genesis? Your team called her in but she never checked into the hotel and we were starting to think she-“

Letitia’s lips part to speak but she pauses as Shiona’s gaze travels into the room, landing on Genesis, who’s awkwardly standing from her place on the edge of the bed, quietly observing. Catching sight of her had caused Shiona to pause mid-sentence, lips parting slightly in surprise.

She doesn’t say a word, but looking between both Genesis and Letitia, as if she’s trying to piece what she unexpectedly walked into all together.

And then her gaze locks on Genesis, her eyebrows remaining furrowed.

“When’d you get here?”

Genesis feels her chest tighten slightly at her question, the feeling only heightened by the older woman’s gaze.

Genesis feels the familiar tightness in her chest, the tone of Shiona’s voice heightening her discomfort. Her posture becomes guarded, yet her expressions remain stoic, hiding the inner turmoil. As her lips part to weave an explanation, or even deflect, Shiona continues.

“I mean, it’s not like you to not…”

Genesis knows where she was leading, the unfinished sentence hanging in the air, heavy with implication.

“We were all starting to think you weren’t going to show, again.” The words strike a chord, and though Genesis maintains her composure, her internal reaction is gnawing away at her insides.

Letitia, watching the exchange intently, noticed the subtle falter in Genesis. Her familiarity to Genesis’ body language and knowing how her mind works allows her to read the undercurrents of discomfort and defense that others most likely will miss. She’s gotten better at it, Letitia notices. Hiding reactions. Yet, she can still see the conflict, she can still see her.

“Anyways, you’ve still got your touch.” Shiona attempts to shift the conversation, yet somehow, even that feels dismissive and it causes Genesis to turn away slightly, sighing heavily as she rubs the back of her neck, a self-soothing gesture.

“Gens is going to be attending with me today, Shi.” Letitia’s voice is clear and calm, the statement simple yet loaded with unspoken context, unbeknownst to Shiona.

“Oh?” It’s immediate and audible as her gaze snaps back towards Genesis, who catches the tone of what seems like passive-aggressive surprise. She recognizes the implicit judgement easily. “Well, we need to get you in this outfit then.”

Her words, directed at Letitia, carry an attempt to normalize the situation, trying to just move past the moment. She gestures for Letitia to follow her into the bathroom to assist with the outfit change, grabbing one of the covered clothing items, leaving Genesis somewhat isolated in the room by herself as Shiona speaks about the pieces.

Genesis moves to the desk, finding the makeup kit that’s buried in her crossbody bag sitting on the desk chair. She begins to lay the tools and products onto the desk itself, the familiar routine coming back to her so easily.

Suddenly, room’s calm is abruptly shattered by the aggressive beats of rap music coming through the B

bluetooth speaker that sits on the counter of the sink. The sudden onslaught of sound feels like a physical intrusion, jarring Genesis out of her focused state. She grimaces, the music clashing harshly with her ears.

She pauses, rummaging through her bag, her fingers closing around her AirPods and she fits them into her ears quickly, a barrier she creates between herself and the intrusive noise. With a few quick taps on her phone, she pulls up her own playlist, the familiar sounds of the calming beat of the drums filling her ears.

The soothing beat cocoons Genesis, allowing her to take a deep, steadying, breath as she begins to gather her thoughts. She finds herself reflecting of the past, a tapestry of simpler times, even when Letitia was gaining more fame, now it all seems distant compared to the present’s, high-profile, high-pressure environment.

She’s an outsider to this world, one she’s not entirely comfortable with.

Everything’s changed.

But Genesis pushes it back for now, focusing her attention back to preparing what she needs to do Letitia’s makeup, but she makes a mental note to keep an eye on how Letitia moves.

She has a feeling.

Eventually, Genesis hears Shiona call out to her, her cue to overtake, and she gathers what she needs, only a small amount of things and heads towards the bathroom. The door’s ajar, and Genesis pushes it open carefully to find Letitia transformed as Shiona steps out, past Genesis as she steps in, effectively swapping places.

The leather outfit Letitia wears is an assemblage of artistry; a jacket with an oversized, boxy, cut drapes over her shoulders, its design creating a tapestry of dark, interwoven, panels. Beneath it, she wears a matching skirt, paired with a white turtleneck that shoes past the folded collar of the jacket, a balance of chic, ending high on her thighs, barely below the jacket, accenting the length of her long legs, now toned, slightly.

Looking at her through the mirror, Genesis feels her breath catch in her throat, taking in all of Letitia, yet she continues on naturally, as if it doesn’t affect her as much as it does.

“Shiona knows her stuff.” Genesis notes, her eyes analytical as she assesses Letitia’s appearance, considering how to complement it with the makeup like it’s an equation.

“Yeah… she does, doesn’t she?” Letitia replies, a small smile turning her lips upward, but Genesis notices the hesitation.

Her eyebrows furrow slightly, something Letitia doesn’t notice as Genesis sets the items down on the countertop, moving on to the task at hand.

“Think we’ll keep it natural, let the outfit do the talking.” Genesis murmurs, more to herself than Letitia as she starts with foundation, applying it to the brush.

But Letitia nods, head remaining straight ahead, trusting her, and the room’s silent despite the music, Genesis working around her face with the occasional sound of a brush or templet being set down.

Letitia glances at her face as she works in front of her, watching her movements while Genesis doesn’t need her eyes closed, noticing her AirPod in her ear.

“What’re you listening to?”

Genesis pauses in her movements, glancing to Letitia’s eyes and gently moving the brush to her other hand, taking one of her AirPods out and carefully bringing it to Letitia’s ear, setting it in.

As the music flows into her ear, the music on the outside seems to fade away, enveloped almost instantly into the song’s soulful embrace, listening, her body stilling as the chorus fills her senses.

“Is this love, is this love, is this love

Is this love that I’m feelin’?

Is this love, is this love, is this love

Is this love that I’m feelin?”

The lyrics resonate within her and she can’t help but glance back at Genesis, back to working, sucking in her bottom lip in a gesture of concentration, something she’s always done, something Letitia’s always found adorable. The intensity of her focus, combining with the tender lyrics, creates a poignant moment that feels suspended in time.

Before Letitia can reflect further, Genesis’ touch draws her back, fingertips gentle, yet firm, guiding Letitia’s chin down.

“Stay still for me.” She whispers, her voice a soft murmur that carries the words with tender command. And after a short pause, allowing instruction to sink in, she continues. “Close your eyes…”

Letitia obeys, the combination of Genesis’ touch and her voice sending a shiver cascading through her skin, feeling Genesis’ fingertips still against her skin as the brush presses against the area, creating an atmosphere that’s intimate as the lyrics continue in her ear.

The moment Genesis withdraws her fingers from Letitia’s skin, and the soft sound of the pallets closing, Letitia knows she’s finished without her even saying a word. Her eyes open slowly, meeting her reflection in the mirror, the subtlety of the makeup enchanting her features without overshadowing her natural allure. A smile, gentle and approving, appears on her lips as she takes the AirPod out of her ear, extending it back to Genesis.

“I like it.” Her voice is hushed, yet content, speaking of both the makeup and her music and in the mirror, Letitia catches a hint of a smile on Genesis’ lips.

“That’s good, it means you’re comfortable…” Genesis replies, her words trailing off as she turns to fully face Letitia, taking the AirPod from her open palm, eyes scanning over the outfit once more. “Are you?”

The question lingers in the air, Letitia’s response not coming as readily as expected, her hesitation’s a pause Genesis doesn’t miss. Letitia’s eyes flicker between her’s and the mirror with uncertainty, her vibrant confidence seemingly dimmed.

“I’m…” Letitia starts, her voice trailing off as she searches for the words, yet she’s unsure of what to say. She glances down at the clothes that adorn her, her eyes focusing on the lower layer.

Genesis watches her intently, eyes trailing with her, an understanding washing over her.

“You don’t like the skirt.” Genesis notes quietly.

“It’s… it’s not…” Letitia takes a small but heavy breath, her eyes finally looking back to Genesis. “It’s not me.”

“Then change it.” Her statement comes natural to her.

“It doesn’t always work like that. They have the contract, they send the clothes, that’s how things work here.”

Genesis stays silent, nodding her head as if she understands. In reality, she doesn’t.

This world is an enigma in ways to her. She’s been apart of it lightly, yet not enough to know the ins and outs, yet she has perspective.

London, with its own fashion week is different, Letitia thrives amidst the rich tapestry, feeling as if she can wear whatever she’s feeling that day, themed to the show attending. Milan, and even Paris, hold a similar charm, yet it’s a tad more sophisticated in ways.

Hollywood’s spectacle is unlike anything Genesis has seen, a much greater celebrity presence is usually seen in these events such as Milan and Paris, where as in London, it’s more attune to celebrities in the area, whereas these big brands such as Prada sign every big name they can.

It’s never made sense, and it probably never will.

“But I’m going to change before dinner.” Letitia states after the moment of silence passes between them.

Genesis, pulled from the depths of her thoughts, nods gently, not sure what she can really say in response, but the momentary quietude is broken by a knock at the door, a timely interruption that seems to cut the slight tension.

“Genesis, this is for you to put on.” She announces with an obliviousness to the undercurrents swirling in the room as she opens the door.

Genesis eyes look to Shiona, Letitia turning her head as well, watching as she steps in, unzipping the cover just enough to reveal the dress within, handing the hanger over to Genesis, and the sight of it makes Genesis’ heart drop.

“You can’t be serious…” Genesis murmurs, her eyes glancing to Letitia in disbelief.

But she only responds with a chuckle, a sheepish expression all over her face, an awkward acknowledgment of the predicament.

“I’ll just… let you get changed.” She says, backing towards the door, closing it as she steps out.

“Tish-“

“Love you too!” Letitia calls out from the other side, a teasing hint in her tone, ever so playful, leaving Genesis alone.

“Great.” Genesis mutters under her breath, a heavy sigh following, Genesis rubs the back of her neck, the usual soothing gesture a now testament to her irritation.

Reluctantly, she looks to the dress in her hand, it’s fabric now a symbol of the day’s impending challenge. It’s beautiful, she can’t lie, despite being so simple, but to Genesis it feels like a costume for something she never auditioned for.

Not to mention how she hates dresses most of the time.

Her fingers trace the soft material, and with a resigned breath, she begins to change, slipping out of the comfort of Letitia’s clothes into the dress that in a way, signifies more than just an outfit for the evening.

When she’s changed over, Genesis stands before the mirror, the dress cascading along her body. It’s a stark black, form-fitting, piece that flares subtly at the hem, creating a silhouette that’s classic. Yet, she runs her hands over the fabric, tracing the contours of her small chest and the flat plane of her abdomen and stomach, a familiar insecurity whispering to her. The dress, while elegant, feels like an amplifier to her deepest insecurities that she tries so hard to bury and her sigh’s heavy as she reaches for her phone.

With a few taps, she’s FaceTiming help, propping her phone up against the wall, set on the countertop of the sink, and on the third ring, his image shifts into view—walking through the bustling streets of London, his dreads tucked up in his knit beanie, his attire a shield against the London chill.

“Yo, Gen.” Julian greets with a smile, still not looking down as he continues walking, his British-Jamaican mix of an accent warm through her speaker.

Genesis steps back to reveal the full extent of her attire, the dress embracing her every line and curve, and at hearing the movement, Julian’s gaze dips to take in the view of his friend, and laughter bursts from his lips, a reaction as unfiltered as it is immediate.

Genesis’ eyebrows furrow with annoyance as she rubs the middle of her brow in a grimace as Julian tries to calm down from his laughter.

“Yuh dress up like on real uptown gyal now, eh?” There’s affection and teasing mixing into his sudden shift to his native patios.

“Don’t start with me. I look like a mess.”

Julian dips his head again, taking a closer look at the dress. “What if you cut the sides, by yuh ribs? Some flare to it-“

“I can’t cut the sides of no dress, this is Prada!” Genesis whisper yells at Julian.

“Okay, okay, quit shouting.” Julian teases, looking back up again. “Uh, what about, your lion ring, and your cross earring?”

Genesis face shows the realization as he says it, understanding why he mentioned those pieces.

“That… could work.”

It’s silent for a moment, and Genesis watches as Julian’s expression furrows in thought, eyes squinting as he mentally shifts through his stylist mind.

“Yuh have a wrap or something there?” He asks, his voice glitching slightly from the digital connection.

Genesis nods, recalling the one she carries in her crossbody.

“Wrap it ‘round your head, keep di locks down,” Julian instructs, the stylist within him surfacing. “Give yuh a look of elegance, but also make yuh stand out… in a good way, yuh feel?”

“Right…” Genesis’ voice trails off, nodding to herself. “Yeah, okay… I can do that.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Julian smiles a little, another moment of silence hitting them before he speaks again, this time his tone more playful. “So… you goin’ in heels with that?”

Genesis raises her eyebrows slightly in question, her voice laced with unsureness as to why he’s asking.

“Why wouldn’t I?”

But Julian just chuckles, the sound warm and teasing.

“I ain’t ever seen you in a dress, but you in heels too, I-“

“Bai, you-“ Genesis cuts him off, feigning annoyance. “Bye, Julian.”

She has to keep back the laugh that’s threatening the edges of her nonchalant expression, and she leans forward, ending the call, chuckling as she steps back, and gets herself into the heels, the ones Shiona left on the floor for her as well. It’s a sleek pair, delicate strapping wrapping around her ankles, elevating her five-four structure.

Genesis emerges from the bathroom without even sparing the mirror another glance, grabbing her phone, clutching onto it like a lifeline as she steps out and into the main part of the room.

In midst of a conversation with Shiona, Letitia catches sight of Genesis and cuts herself off mid-sentance. Her eyes widen slightly, tracking Genesis as she moves across the room.

She’s oblivious to the effect she has on Letitia, reaching her bag and shifting through it as she sets her phone down on the desk, seeking the black, patterned, head wrap and the couple pieces of jewelry, and upon finding the items, she walks to the full-length mirror, setting the jewelry down on top of the drawers, by where the television sits.

Letitia keeps her eyes set on her, the conversation with Shiona forgotten. She finds herself observing the smooth fabric of the dress that clings to Genesis’ slim form. And she watches how Genesis wraps the fabric a round her head, tying it in the front before knotting what’s left of the length of the fabric before wrapping it around the initial tie and tucking it into the middle of it, creating a wrap around her head, locks hanging low beautifully.

“Too much?” Genesis murmurs quietly, a hint of vulnerability there, feeling Letitia’s heavy and hot gaze on her without even really needing to see her reflection in the mirror.

“No, no, you look…” Letitia begins, trailing off as her usual charisma is lost by the image Genesis is presenting, words failing as she watches her affix an earring to her left ear, a small golden cross, a striking contrast from the dark colors all over.

Next, she grabs a ring, a thick band, that’s all Letitia notices in the moment as she slides it onto her right ring finger with care and she turns her head to look at Letitia, who feels her breath catch in her throat, she green eyes standing out so beautifully.

Leitita can’t help her eyes roaming over the entirety of Genesis’ form again. But meeting Genesis’ eyes once more, she collects herself against the emotions she’s feeling.

“You look beautiful.”

There’s a small smile appears on Genesis’ lips, a warmth filling in her chest at Letitia’s simple words, yet holding deeper meaning, and she feels good.

“I hate to break up whatever this is,” Shiona moves her hand bwtween them, breaking the attention affectively. “but if we want any chance of being on time, you need to get, now.”

With quiet urgency, they all gather their things and Letitia leads Genesis to the awaiting limousine, falling behind Shiona. As the two of them settle in, the door shutting behind, and the drive starts, Letitia pulls out her phone, taking both a video and a photo for her socials stories.

But Genesis looks around, quietly, taking in the details of the luxury vehicle—the subtle shine of the leather seats, the soft carpet heath their feet, and out of the corner of her eye, Genesis noticed a small pint of vodka nestled in an ice bucket. Its presence is an unspoken invitation to take the edge off. She picks it up, examining the label, her curiosity focusing more on its presence than any actual desire to indulge.

Letitia catches sight of her doing this, glancing up from her phone and watching, eyes tracking Genesis’ movements.

“You can have it if you want.”

Genesis shakes her head, a quick, definitive, gesture that speaks volumes, setting it back down with the same nonchalance in which she picked it up. Letitia can’t really hide the quiet surprise and intrigue that’s written all over her face, the small rejection being a divergence from the normal that she’s used to handling, her ex was known for indulging far too early and sometimes went too far.

Soon, the limousine eases to a stop and the door swings open to reveal a man in an all black suit, umbrella in hand, set to shield them from the drizzle that lays on the city in the early evening. Letitia exits first, naturally, and Genesis follows, moving to the edge of the car carefully. The cool air that’s tinged with rain greets her before she even sets foot outside.

She looks down to find Letitia offering a hand, like a lifeline, and Genesis takes it, a silent ‘thank you’ passing between them, and she feels the reassuring squeeze, a silent grounding.

As she begins to get out, Genesis tentatively glances up, the cacophony of the voices of the paparazzi and the sounds of the camera clicks are momentarily overwhelming, they always are for her. She quickly averts her eyes almost as soon as she looked up, refocusing on the task of stepping out this car in heels.

Once she safely does so, Letitia begins to turn towards the commotion, the entrance of the event, but she doesn’t let go of Genesis. Instead, their fingers entwine as they move down naturally, a gesture that speaks volumes in its quiet intimacy. Letitia leads with a smile that only wavers slightly under the weight of the public’s eye, and Genesis offering a small smile, but mostly avoiding looking in the lens of the camera.

Her gratitude for the entwining of their fingers is immense. It grounds her in the moment as her heart feels like it’s going to beat out her chest.

At the steps up, Letitia pauses, her hand still clasping Genesis’ as she steps onto the first riser, another woman taking her place, offering Genesis a nimble support to step up the steps, and halfway up, Genesis pauses, looking back, focusing on Letitia’s presence.

The moment of her getting into place is nearly marred when her heel catches, and Genesis feels her heart lurch, a grimace on her face, yet Letitia regains herself too quickly, as if the smallest slip didn’t even happen, her smile returning with only a flash of awkwardness as she poses briefly before the photographers before proceeding, taking Genesis’ hand again and leading her up herself.

She leads her through all the people, towards the main event, where they’re guided to their seats in the front row. Genesis can’t help but feel out of her element. She’s done a couple of these before, but not like this. It shows in a subconscious betrayal of her unease, her left knee bouncing as her legs are crossed over. But Letitia, perceptive as ever, lays a gentle hand upon her kneecap, squeezing with just enough pressure to have her feel calmer within seconds.

A silent promise.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

They had gone back to the sanctuary of the hotel room, just for a moment, after the show, they change out of the show attire, into items more comfortable, yet still aligning with the dinner’s upscale measures.

Letitia opts for an elegant, chic, ensemble, her outfit more to her personal flair, still all by Prada, loose suit pants, loafers, a white, rubbed, tank that’s tucked into the pants, and the same jacket from the earlier event, now left unzipped. But Genesis, on the other hand, finds herself in a struggle to assemble an outfit from her own clothing. She decides on a white, long-sleeve, shirt, it’s fabric soft and comforting against her skin, which she tucks it meticulously into some black, loose-fit, suit pants. Over the shirt lays a black, long-sleeve, button-down, left unzipped. The combination is understated yet sleek, paired with polished loafers that add the touch of formality she hopes is enough. She forego’s the head scarf this time, allowing her locks to remain flowing down, framing her thin face and sharp jawline.

Now in the back of the limousine once more, the quiet hum of the engine is a stark contrast to this evening’s fanfare. And once they arrive, it seems mirrored to just hours earlier, Letitia exiting the car first, under the shield of an umbrella, and Genesis follows, taking Letitia’s hand as she steps out into the light rain. The touch, like earlier, is grounding, silent reassurance admits chaos.

Her hand remains firm in Letitia’s grip on her, their fingers entwined as they walk up to the restaurant. Letitia offers a semi-polite smile and wave to the onlookers, a practiced gesture of acknowledgement and Genesis only follows her lead, feeling the firm grip guiding her through the unfamiliar terrain into the restaurant, following one of the worker’s lead.

Turning the corner eventually, there’s a long table surrounded by a constellation of celebrities from different fields, all sponsored under Prada, and Genesis takes it in as she sits down beside Letitia.

The dinner itself unfolds like a symphony, each person here seemingly contributing to the evening’s scene. Yet, for Genesis, it all fades into the background, her thoughts drifting to a quieter, more introspective, corner of her mind. The scene surrounding her, the causal exchanges of the people, holding fame and accolades, all seemingly foreign things to her despite spending years surrounded by it.

From her vantage point, Genesis takes in the tableau of celebrities surrounding her. She takes notice of the seemingly effortless way they carry themselves, designer fabrics draped over their forms, the sparkle of expensive jewelry catching the light with turns of their heads or movement of their hands. Laughter rings out, easy, a speaking of their comfort within this space and lifestyle, which is a severe contrast to her own.

She’s roused from these observations, by a feeling, pulling her back into the present moment, her gaze shifting down to the hand that gently encircles her forearm, the warm touch grounding her. Her eyes then trail over, finding Letitia’s eyes searching her own, concern making itself known with the furrowing of her brow.

“You okay?” Her voice is quiet against the sounds of conversation surrounding them.

Genesis is about to nod, to reassure her, when another voice carries over unlike the others.

“Genesis, what is it you do again?”

She leans forward slightly, eyes moving from Letitia’s to find Hunter Schafer sitting a couple seats past Letitia.

“I’m a hair and makeup artist.”

“Right, I remember now.” Hunter leans forward as Genesis did. “Anything exciting coming up for you with the boycott done?”

The question, meant to be light, feels heavy to Genesis, something she wasn’t expecting. But she still manages a stiff chuckle, a mask of professionalism over the slight discomfort.

“No,” she sakes her head simply, looking down slightly, swirling the wine a little. “not right now.”

Letitia, attune to Genesis’ tone, senses the subtle undercurrents, more so fatigue than what others may think of as shame, and she leans forward slightly, head still turned to her.

“After I get a second cap we can leave.” She says quietly.

Genesis responds not with words but with an action, pushing her untouched wineglass towards Letitia.

“I don’t drink.” She nods to her, words quiet.

The moment hangs between them, Letitia tentatively accepting the glass, her mind racing over if this has always been true, if she’d slipped and forgotten, or if this is new. All her memories make her remember her joining in at least one glass.

“Alright,” Letitia nods, gently. “we can leave on your cue.”

Genesis gives her a small smile, watching as she takes a sip before answering another question that fell from Hunter’s lips.

They leave not long after, Letitia taking her hand as they walk down the steps of the restaurant, flashes from cameras shining against the darkness of the night, only stopping and pulling her hand away when they get close to the car, signing an autograph for someone, and taking a picture, Genesis stopping and waiting for her. But just as she turns to step forward towards the car again, there’s this woman, one who had waited outside the belt, getting into her space, and Genesis can see discomfort wash clear over her face, yet still managing to muster the smallest smile, still trying to walk forward regardless.

She apologizes politely to the people surrounding for needing to leave so quick, the rain being a bother, and Genesis follows behind her, placing a hand on her back, both to let her know she’s behind her and to help ground her.

Letitia looks back at the motion for only a second, physically checking that Genesis is behind her before looking forward again, stepping into the limousine, and turning before she sits, a hand out for Genesis to take, helping her in before looking up, speaking to those who were helping them.

“Thank you, bye-bye.”

Within the car ride back to the hotel, the hum of the engine melds with the patting of the rain against the car as it moves through the rain coated streets, creating a lullaby that tugs at the fringes of Genesis’ consciousness. The fatigue of a long day, compounded by the jet lag that’s heavy on her, pulling her into darkness.

And what she finds, behind her eyes, is what she hears against the sounds melting into her sphere. The humming of a man’s voice. The voice rich, vibrating with experience and a calmness, wrapping around her warmly. The notes settling within her heart, speaking to her soul.

She recognizes it, she feels it calling to her.

In her sleep, unbeknownst to her, Genesis’ eyebrows furrow, the stirring of emotions clear on her face, not even stirring even at the sound of her name.

“Gens-“

Letitia, her attention shifting from the soft glow of her phone’s screen, catches herself as her eyes fall on the sight of her, realizing she had given into her evident exhaustion, discomfort clear on her face, her neck slightly craned in an uncomfortable position, her gaze softens. She gently and carefully guides Genesis’ head to rest on her shoulder, providing a pillow of support.

In that instant, deeper in her dreams, Genesis sees something different, an adult, face unseen, almost cut-off like in a movie scene, but there’s a child, eyes closed, head on their shoulder, asleep admits the falling rain. She recognizes it as a younger version of her, her child-like form.

Suddenly, she hears the elderly voice echo amongst the atmosphere, its timbre warmth and familiarity wrapping around her similar to the humming of the notes, still a distant background heard.

The same benediction.

And with a featherweight touch, Letitia places a kiss on Genesis’ head, a gesture as protective as it is affectionate, and Genesis hears the man’s words echo within.

“Take care on the road, Genesis.”

#vees recs

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