#depression beauty overcome love | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

fvsm4x · 10 months

Text

#MAYBE IN ANOTHER LIFE? [Gojo Satoru]

SUMMARY: Your boyfriend, who you loved more than anything, who was your will to live, broke up with you.

— C.W: ex-boyfriend! Gojo satoru x depressed! female reader , dark themes , slightly geto suguru x female reader , no curses au.

— WORD COUNT: 5.3k+

„I think we should break up.“

Gojo’s words hung in the air, as he looked into your eyes.

Your heart skipped a beat, and you fought to keep the tears at bay. You desperately tried to maintain your composure, not wanting to show Gojo just how deeply his words had wounded you.

“Why? What happened?“ You managed to ask, your voice trembling.

Gojo’s gaze softened, but his eyes held a distant look, as if his mind was already elsewhere. “I’ve found someone else,” he admitted, his words like a dagger to your fragile heart.

A whirlwind of emotions engulfed your thoughts. Insecurity, confusion, and a deep sense of betrayal washed over you. You had always known Gojo was popular, surrounded by women who seemed to possess an otherworldly beauty that you could only dream of. But you had hoped that your connection would be strong enough to withstand any external temptations.

As tears welled up in your eyes, you couldn’t help but question your own worth. Gojo had been your beacon of light, the one who had brought joy and stability into your chaotic world. You had believed that your love was strong enough to overcome any obstacles.

But now, faced with the harsh reality of Gojo’s confession, your insecurities resurfaced with a vengeance.

How could Gojo have led you on, making you believe that your love was real, only to discard you so easily for someone else?

But despite the storm of emotions raging within you, you knew that you had to find the strength to let Gojo go. You couldn’t force someone to love you, no matter how much you wanted to.

And so, with a heavy heart and tears streaming down your face, you whispered, “If that’s what you truly want, then I won’t stand in your way.”

You wiped away your tears and caught Gojo’s gaze. His eyes were filled with regret and sadness, and you could see the pain he felt in his expression. It was as if he realized the gravity of his decision and the hurt he had caused you.

“I’m so sorry,” Gojo whispered, his voice filled with genuine remorse. “I never wanted to hurt you. It’s not about your worth or how you compare to anyone else. It’s about me and my own shortcomings.”

You looked at him, surprised by his words.

“I understand,” you replied softly, your voice filled with a mix of sadness and acceptance. “I know I can’t change your feelings or make you stay. I’ll start packing my things so you can have your apartment back.”

As you rose from the plush couch, your footsteps echoed through the spacious apartment, the sound muffled by the thick carpet beneath your feet. With a heavy heart, you made your way to the bedroom you had once shared with Gojo. The room seemed to hold its breath, as if aware of the impending change that would soon occur.

You opened the grand closet, its ornate doors revealing a collection of clothes and personal belongings. The air was filled with a bittersweet nostalgia as you carefully selected each item, their presence a testament to the love and happiness you had once shared. The room seemed to whisper your name, its walls bearing witness to the countless moments of joy and intimacy that had unfolded within its confines.

As you held each cherished possession in your hands, memories flooded your mind like a river. The soft touch of Gojo's hand, the warmth of his embrace, and the laughter that had once filled the room. Each item carried a weight of emotions, a reminder of the love you had believed to be unbreakable.

Gojo, sitting on the edge of the bed, watched you with a pained expression. The reality of the situation seemed to settle in, and he realized the depth of the connection he was severing. The room felt colder, emotions hanging thick in the air.

As you folded your clothes and placed them in a suitcase, Gojo finally spoke again, his voice carrying a tinge of regret. "I never wanted it to come to this, Y/n. You deserve happiness, and I hope you find it even if it's without me."

His words lingered, a bittersweet acknowledgment of the end. The room, once filled with shared laughter and intimate moments, now felt like a haunting memory. The pain was palpable, and you couldn't help but wonder if it would ever subside.

As you zipped up your suitcase, Gojo approached, his hand hesitating in the air as if unsure whether to touch you.

He gently brushed away a tear that rolled down your cheek.

"I'm truly sorry," he murmured,

With your suitcase in hand, you stood near the doorway, taking one last look at the place that had been your shared sanctuary. It was a goodbye to not only Gojo but also to the dreams you had woven together.

As you walked out, Gojo remained in the room, the emptiness echoing the void left by the shattered relationship. The door closed behind you, sealing the end of a chapter that had once promised forever.

In the days that followed, the task of finding a new place to call home became increasingly overwhelming. The once vibrant city, which had once been a source of shared dreams and promises, now seemed indifferent to your struggles. Each apartment viewing brought with it a fresh wave of emotions, serving as a painful reminder of the life you had envisioned with Gojo.

In the midst of this turmoil, old habits resurfaced. You found yourself reaching for cigarettes and turning to alcohol as a means of coping.

It was disheartening, as you had believed that these vices were behind you after Gojo entered your life and seemingly fixed all your problems. But now, they have reappeared, threatening to consume you once again.

What made matters worse was the lack of support you had. There were no parents to lean on, no friends to turn to for help. You were left to navigate this challenging situation all on your own, starting from scratch.

Before meeting Gojo, you had worked countless jobs to pay your bills and support your studies, scraping by with whatever little money you had.

The weight of it all was taking its toll on you. You felt yourself falling apart, the stress and uncertainty chipping away at your resolve.

But then, Gojo appeared, and your life took an unexpected turn. It was as if the universe had conspired to bring the two of you together. The first time you laid eyes on him was when you were working as a waitress at a cozy bakery. As he walked in, time seemed to stand still. Your heart skipped a beat as you took in his striking features.

His vibrant blue eyes, reminiscent of a clear summer sky, held a depth that drew you in. His snow-white hair and lashes added an ethereal touch to his already captivating appearance. And when he smiled, it was as if the whole room lit up with warmth and charm. You were instantly captivated by his presence, unable to tear your gaze away.

To your surprise, Gojo noticed your lingering glances and, with a confident stride, approached the counter where you were working. He invited you to join him, and you couldn’t resist the opportunity to spend more time with this enigmatic man. As you sat together, indulging in delectable desserts, the hours seemed to melt away in a blur of laughter and shared stories.

Days turned into weeks, and Gojo became a regular at the bakery, always seeking your company. The two of you would engage in deep conversations that spanned a wide range of topics, from the trivial to the profound. Each interaction only deepened your connection, and before you knew it, you found yourself falling for him.

However, amidst the blossoming romance, a nagging doubt lingered in the back of your mind. You couldn’t help but notice the parade of women that seemed to surround Gojo. He would visit the bakery at least twice a week, each time accompanied by a different woman. They would engage in affectionate displays, acting as if they were a couple.

As you observed these interactions, a wave of insecurity washed over you. Comparisons became inevitable, and you couldn’t help but feel inadequate in comparison to these stunning women. Their flawless skin, plump breasts, and alluring curves seemed to highlight your own perceived shortcomings. Their beauty was undeniable, and you couldn’t help but wonder if you would ever measure up.

But despite these doubts, Gojo continued to seek your company, showing genuine interest in your thoughts, dreams, and aspirations. His actions spoke louder than words, and you began to question your own self-doubt. Perhaps there was more to this connection than meets the eye.

Maybe, just maybe, Gojo saw something in you that went beyond physical appearances.

Motivated by this newfound hope, you made a conscious effort to break free from your bad habits. Weeks turned into months, and Gojo continued to visit the bakery every day just to see you.

However, one day, something special happened. Gojo waited patiently for you to finish your shift and then walked you back to the motel where you were staying. It was during this walk that he truly realized how difficult your life actually was.

Seeing you work tirelessly, with dark circles under your eyes and wearing the same clothes day after day, Gojo couldn’t bear to see you living in such difficult conditions. He noticed the presence of alcohol and cigarettes in your room and insisted that you stay with him instead. He wanted to provide you with a better life, free from the struggles you had been facing.

And so, you took up Gojo’s offer and moved in with him.

And that's when you became a couple.

But after two years of being in a relationship with Gojo, he found someone else. The person who used to hold you in his arms, whisper sweet words of love, and make you feel like the most important person in his life was now directing those affectionate gestures towards someone else.

You didn’t want to let him go. The thought of losing him was devastating. However, you also understood that you couldn’t force him to stay with you if his heart was no longer fully committed. Questions swirled in your mind. Did you do something wrong? Were you not exciting enough for him anymore? Was there something else that led him to find someone new?

Despite the heartache, one thing remained certain- your love for Gojo would never fade. The pain of knowing that he loved someone else, someone who wasn’t you, was excruciating. No one could ever replace the way Gojo had changed you, the way he had touched your heart and made you feel alive.

You sat alone in the dimly lit motel room, a bottle of liquor in hand, you sought solace in the numbing effects of alcohol. The pain in your heart seemed unbearable, and you hoped that drowning your sorrows would provide temporary relief.

The room felt suffocating. Each sip of the bitter liquid seemed to momentarily wash away the ache, but deep down, you knew it was only a temporary escape. The truth remained that Gojo had moved on, and you were left grappling with the shattered pieces of your heart.

With a heavy sigh, you placed the half-empty bottle on the grimy nightstand and slowly rose from the disheveled bed. Your footsteps carried you towards the suitcase, which stood dutifully beside a small table, as you rummaged through its contents in search of something comfortable to wear for the night. The weight of your emotions bore down on you, causing you to push up your hoodie, removing it with a forceful toss onto the nearby chair, as you attempted to regain control over your tears.

The question echoed in your mind once again, piercing through the haze of confusion and hurt. How could he do this to you? The betrayal felt like a knife twisting in your heart, leaving you gasping for air amidst the waves of anguish.

You made your way towards the mirror. Your reflection stared back at you, a vulnerable and exposed version of yourself. The longer you gazed upon your topless form, the deeper the sadness seeped into your being. Your hand instinctively reached out, fingers grazing the surface of your bare stomach, as if trying to grasp the weight.

Could it be that your weight gain was the reason behind his abandonment? Did he no longer desire to be with you because of the changes in your body? The thought gnawed at your self-esteem, fueling the belief that the girl he now chose to be with possessed a flat stomach, a flawless figure, and enviable curves. Qualities that you, in your own eyes, did not possess.

Feeling the ache in your stomach intensify, you released your grip and turned your attention back to the task at hand. Pulling out a set of comfortable pajamas from your suitcase, you quickly changed into them, hoping that the soft fabric would provide some comfort amidst the chaos of your emotions.

As you lay down on the bed, the worn-out mattress offering little respite, your mind raced with thoughts of the uncertain future that lay before you. The realization hit hard – you would have to find a job, and fast. The fear of being kicked out of the motel, with nowhere else to go, loomed over you like a dark cloud.

You lay there, staring at the ceiling, your mind began to form a plan. You closed your eyes, the weight of exhaustion finally settling upon you.

Days turned into nights, and nights into days as you tirelessly searched for a job. The motel room became a temporary refuge, a place where you could rest your weary body and gather your thoughts before facing the world again. And then, finally, your efforts paid off.

You received a call from the bakery where you had once worked, offering you a position. Excitement and relief flooded through you as you accepted the job. It was a familiar place,

The first day back at the bakery was filled with a mix of nervousness and anticipation. As you stepped through the familiar doors, the scent of freshly baked bread enveloped you. The warm smiles and greetings from your former colleagues made you feel instantly welcome, as if you had never left.

You returned to your old position as a waitress and memories of Gojo lingered in the back of your mind. It had been a while since you had seen him, and you had made peace with the fact that he no longer wanted anything to do with you.

You let out a sigh as you walked over to the table where some guests were seated. Taking their orders, you jotted them down on a small notepad and headed towards the counter to place it.

As you turned around, the door opened, and there stood Gojo Satoru, looking as charming as ever. His eyes scanned the room until they landed on you, and a smile instantly spread across his face. He waved at you, and for a moment, your heart skipped a beat.

Beside Gojo stood a breathtakingly beautiful woman, exuding confidence and radiating charm. It was clear why Gojo was drawn to her, and you couldn’t help but feel a pang of jealousy.

With a polite smile, you excused yourself and walked away, seeking solace in the different side of the bakery. Your heart raced as you tried to process the unexpected encounter. The memories of your past relationship flooded back, bringing with them a whirlwind of emotions.

In the safety of the different side, away from prying eyes, you took a deep breath, trying to calm your racing heart.

As you continued your work, serving customers and attending to their needs, you found solace in the routine. The hustle and bustle of the bakery provided a distraction, allowing you to momentarily forget the turmoil that Gojo’s presence had stirred within you.

But deep down, you knew that healing would take time. The wounds were still fresh, and seeing Gojo with someone new had reopened them. Yet, you refused to let it define you.

As you stood behind the counter, your eyes scanned the room, searching for any customer in need of your assistance. However, it seemed that everyone was content, engrossed in their conversations and meals. Your gaze involuntarily shifted towards the table where Gojo sat with his new girlfriend.

You couldn’t help but observe the way Gojo’s eyes sparkled with adoration as he looked at her. The way his face lit up with a blush whenever she smiled at him was a sight you had never witnessed before. It was as if he saw her as a goddess, someone worthy of his utmost devotion and affection.

A pang of jealousy washed over you as you compared Gojo’s current demeanor with how he had looked at you in the past. His eyes had never held that same lovesick gaze when he was with you. It was a bitter realization that he had never regarded you in the same way he now regarded this new woman.

You couldn’t help but wonder what it was about her that captivated Gojo so completely. Was it her radiant smile, her confident aura, or perhaps something deeper that you couldn’t comprehend? Whatever it was, it was clear that Gojo had found someone who made his heart race and his eyes shine with love.

As you continued to observe them from a distance, a mix of emotions swirled within you. Part of you longed for Gojo to look at you with the same intensity, to make you feel like the center of his universe. But another part of you knew that it was time to let go, to accept that Gojo had moved on and found happiness elsewhere.

With a heavy sigh, you turned your attention back to your duties, reminding yourself that your worth was not defined by Gojo’s affections.

You carefully balanced the two deserts and the cup of hot chocolate on your tray, making sure everything was secure. Lost in your thoughts, you absentmindedly glanced at the table number where this order was meant to be served. Without looking up, you started walking towards the designated table, unaware of the impending collision.

Just as you were about to lift your gaze, your body collided with someone, causing your grip on the tray to loosen. The board slipped from your hands, and the cup of hot chocolate tumbled through the air, its contents splattering onto the person you had unintentionally crashed into.

Your eyes widened in shock, and panic surged through your veins as you realized the gravity of the situation. You quickly raised your gaze, meeting the eyes of the person you had accidentally drenched with hot chocolate. And in that moment, your whole world seemed to crumble around you.

It was her. The woman for whom Gojo had left you. The same woman who had stolen his heart and shattered yours in the process. The sight of her standing before you, her face contorted in pain as tears streamed down her cheeks, was like a knife to your heart.

She hissed in pain as the scalding hot chocolate made contact with her skin, desperately trying to wipe away the sticky liquid that clung to her. Your hands trembled as you reached for tissues from a nearby table, desperately attempting to alleviate the discomfort you had caused.

But just as you were about to wipe away the hot chocolate, a forceful hand slapped yours away, taking over the task of cleaning the girl's skin. Startled, you looked up and saw Gojo, his face contorted with fury. His eyebrows knitted together as he witnessed the tears streaming down the girl's face, his protective instincts kicking in.

You stood there, next to Gojo, your voice barely audible as you muttered apologies, trying to explain that it was an accident. But Gojo's anger seemed to drown out your words. He finished wiping away the hot chocolate from the girl's skin and pulled her into his arms, shielding her from any further harm. His gaze shifted towards you, his eyes filled with a mix of disappointment and rage.

"Why would you do that?!" he shouted, his voice echoing through the air. His words pierced through your heart, intensifying the guilt that already weighed heavily upon you. You could see the hurt in his eyes, the pain of betrayal mingling with the anger. But you couldn't find the words to defend yourself, knowing deep down that there was no justification for your actions.

„It was an accident-“

He took a deep breath,"Save it, I know why you did it.“

„Just because I found someone else and that I’m happy with them doesn’t mean that you’ll get to hurt them out of jealousy!“ he spoke

„I thought you were better than that," he said. The girl, still in his arms, chimed in, her voice filled with anger. "Call your manager, you need to be fired!"

Gojo's gaze shifted back to you, his eyes searching for an explanation. The weight of his disappointment and the girl's demand for your termination bore down on you. Panic set in as you realized the implications of losing your job. You couldn't afford to be fired; you needed the money to support yourself.

Desperation filled your voice as you pleaded with Gojo, "Please, don't ask for my manager. It was just an accident. I need this job, I can't afford to lose it." Tears welled up in your eyes as you tried to convey the sincerity of your plea. You knew you had made a mistake, but it was one born out of carelessness, not malice.

You instinctively grabbed Gojos' hand,“Please-!“ you begged, but your hand only got slapped away by the woman in his arms.

„And now you go touching someone’s boyfriend? What‘s wrong with you!“ the girl shouted as she slapped you.

Your head turned to the side from the force of the slap, a surge of pain radiated through your cheek. The impact left your skin hot and flushed, a visible mark of the humiliation you felt. You fought back tears, determined not to let them see your vulnerability.

With trembling hands, you gently placed your palm against your reddened cheek, trying to soothe the pain. Your eyes flickered towards the girl, searching for any sign of remorse or understanding, but all you saw was a cold, dismissive gaze. Her arms crossed defiantly, she demanded that you call for the manager, her voice dripping with disdain.

„Call the manager.“

Desperation welled up within you, and you mustered the courage to speak, your voice quivering with a mix of fear and desperation. "Wait, please! I... I really need this job," you pleaded, hoping that she would see reason, that she would understand the dire circumstances that led you to this moment.

She cut you off, her words sharp and dismissive. "I don't care, call for your manager," she interrupted, her tone leaving no room for negotiation or empathy.

Your gaze shifted towards Gojo, silently pleading for his intervention, for him to vouch for you or at least offer some support. But as you looked into his eyes, you saw a furrowed brow and a hint of disappointment. His voice, barely above a whisper, carried a weight of disbelief and disapproval. "Can't believe you would pull something like that," he murmured, his words landing like a heavy blow to your already wounded heart.

Your hand, still trembling, fell from your cheek as you straighten your posture. With a deep breath, you mustered the strength to bow,

"I'll get t-the manager right away," you said,

With a heavy heart, you turned away from Gojo and the girl, making your way towards the counter to call for the manager.

Your hands trembled slightly as you picked up the phone, dialing the number with shaky fingers. Each ring felt like an eternity, amplifying the anxiety that coursed through your veins. Finally, a voice answered on the other end, and you took a deep breath, trying to steady your voice.

"Hello- this is Y/n L/n from [Bakery]. I... I need to speak with the manager, please," you said, your voice barely above a whisper. The person on the other end assured you that they would connect you, and you waited anxiously, your heart pounding in your chest.

As you waited, your mind raced with thoughts of the consequences that awaited you. Losing this job would mean losing your only source of income, and the financial strain it would bring was overwhelming. You couldn't bear the thought of disappointing your loved ones or struggling to make ends meet.

Finally, the manager's voice came through the line, and you mustered up the courage to explain the situation. You recounted the accident, your sincere apologies, and the girl's demand for your termination. The manager listened attentively, their voice calm and composed as they absorbed the details.

After a brief pause, the manager spoke, their tone firm yet compassionate. "I will come over to assess the situation and speak with all parties involved. Please remain calm and await my arrival."

You took a deep breath, trying to steady your nerves as you hung up the phone.

As you turned around, you noticed Gojo and the girl engaged in a hushed conversation. Their expressions were still filled with anger and disappointment, but there was also a hint of uncertainty. You approached them cautiously, your eyes downcast.

"I've c-called the manager," you said softly,"They will be here soon to address the situation. I... I'm truly sorry for what happened. It was never my intention to cause any harm or distress."

„Sure“ the girl replied.

Months had passed since that fateful encounter at the café. You had lost your job, the incident with Gojo and the girl tarnishing your reputation and leading to your dismissal. Now, you found yourself standing by the reception desk of another run-down motel, desperately seeking a place to stay for the night because you got kicked out of the last one.

As you approached the receptionist, a tired-looking man with a permanent scowl on his face, you couldn’t help but feel a pang of anxiety.

“Excuse me,” you began, your voice wavering slightly. “I was wondering if you have any available rooms for tonight?”

The receptionist glanced up from his paperwork, his eyes narrowing as he took in your disheveled appearance. His tone was curt as he replied, “We do have a few rooms left, but I’ll need payment upfront.”

Your heart sank. You had been scraping by, barely making ends meet, and the little money you had left was barely enough to cover your basic necessities.

“I… I’m sorry,” you stammered, your voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t have enough money to pay for a room.”

The receptionist’s scowl deepened, his impatience evident. “Look, we can’t just give away rooms for free. If you can’t pay, then I suggest you find somewhere else to go.”

Tears welled up in your eyes as you realized the gravity of the situation. You were alone, with nowhere to turn and no one to rely on. The weight of your mistakes and the consequences they had brought upon you felt suffocating.

With a heavy heart, you turned away from the reception desk, feeling the eyes of the other guests in the lobby on you, judging and pitying your predicament. As you walked towards the exit, a mix of shame and desperation washed over you, threatening to consume your spirit.

Outside, the cold night air greeted you, a stark reminder of your current reality. You stood on the sidewalk, feeling lost and defeated. The world seemed to blur around you as you pondered your next move, wondering how you had ended up in this dire situation.

Suddenly, a voice chimed in from behind, jolting you out of your thoughts. Startled, you turned around to find yourself face to face with Geto, your ex's best friend. His black eyes bore into yours, his raised eyebrows conveying curiosity and surprise. His gaze drifted to the suitcase clutched tightly in your hand, a silent question hanging in the air.

"Geto?" you questioned, your voice tinged with confusion.

A puff of smoke escaped his lips as he exhaled the cigarette between his fingers,"How many times do I have to tell you, you can call me Suguru," he replied,

“Why are you here?” he asked, standing before you and peering into your eyes. But before you could answer, another question slipped from his lips, catching you off guard. “Where is Satoru?”

The realization hit you like a punch to the gut. He didn’t know. How could he not know? Wasn’t he Satoru’s best friend? Shouldn’t he have been informed about the breakup that had occurred just last month? Did Gojo, your ex, not bother to share the news with him?

“Didn’t Satoru tell you?” you asked, breaking eye contact with him, unable to bear his gaze any longer.

“Tell me what?” he questioned. He removed the cigarette from his lips and threw it to the ground, crushing it under his shoe.

“That we broke up,” you replied, your voice barely above a whisper. As you watched his reaction, you noticed a flicker of surprise in his eyes before he regained his composure.

“You two broke up..?” he questioned,“Since when did you-”

“Last month we broke up,” you interrupted,

“Is there any reason why you two broke up? Everything was good, wasn’t it?” As he placed a comforting hand on your shoulder.

“He…” you hesitated, your gaze shifting to the side. “He found someone else,” you admitted, your lips trembling slightly.

“Oh,” he responded, his hand retracting from your shoulder as he crossed his arms over his chest. His eyes turned towards the night sky, lost in his own thoughts, before refocusing on you. “And why are you here in the middle of the night?” he asked, his gaze scanning you from head to toe, taking in your worn-out clothes. His eyes returned to your face.

“I got kicked out of the motel because I couldn’t pay for it anymore,” you replied,

His brows furrowed,"I'm so sorry to hear that," he said softly,"You shouldn't have to go through this alone."

Without hesitation, he reached out and gently placed a hand on your shoulder. "Listen, I have an idea," he said,"Why don't you come stay with me until you find a job and get back on your feet?"

Surprised by his offer, you looked at him,"I- I can‘t do that-!" you spoke.

A warm smile spread across his face. "Of course you can," he replied. "I have a spare room and it would be my pleasure to help you out. Sometimes, all we need is a little support to get back on track."

„But-!“

„No buts.“

"Thank you," you whispered, "I don't know what to say..."

He smiled warmly, his eyes sparkling,"No need to thank me," he insisted. "We all go through tough times, and sometimes we just need a helping hand. If there's anything else I can do, please don't hesitate to ask."

He took the suitcase from your hand and turned around, walking towards his house. "Let's go," he said, looking back at you.

You nodded and followed after him.

7K notes · View notes

leiiilaaaa · 1 month

Text

chiron through the houses

hii, i'll be going over what chiron represents in each of the houses. chiron represents the area where we tend to struggle with the most, need to heal the most, and feel most hardship with. depending on how your chiron is aspected and where it is placed can entail this to you.

(also sorry for the inactivity life's crayz)

chiron in 1st - these people will deal with insecurities from a young age. usually something regarding their appearance and overall presentation. has poor self-esteem issues, body dysmorphia, inability to recognize their full potentials. people with chiron in the 1st house struggles with maintaining their power in their environments. they view themselves as their biggest enemy. can lead to them having envy towards others, feeling the need to work twice as hard, and feeling unnoticed or recognized for all the wrong things. they feel misrepresented and fear that everything they work for and accomplish means nothing if they cannot associate the energy to the body. they are very mindful, conscious; however they can be too overly aware that they begin to become delusional and biased to their own negative thinking. these people heal through helping others, as they've been with an internal battle towards themselves since youth. these people can sympathize easier with others and bring a comfortable energy, healing energy. unfortunately for them though, their biggest demise is their inability to recognize that their flaws are normal and they are beautiful mentally, spiritually, and physically once they overcome this burden.

chiron in 2nd - these people have a hard time finding their overall aesthetic, the things that they can attach themselves to, the way they can finally represent themselves. usually, they find themselves leeching off others to fit in. they might have grown up not having what other people around them had, which can make them jealous, or overtime become stingy with their belongings. these people switch their style often according to the fashion, and might have been bullied for things they wore, their home, or their expression. chiron in 2nd can have a habit of becoming very materialistic once the comparisons worsen. this placement can make for a very good work ethic; however it can lead to their demise trying to constantly be just like everyone else. their biggest fear is exclusion and missing out from the rest of the world. the way these people can heal from this is to accept their lifestyle as is, and not to shame their upbringing. as they get older it usually becomes less of a problem, but here and there it can lead to an "over-perfectionist" attitude which will leave tension for as long as they have this habit.

chiron in 3rd - these people will have a difficult time trying to vocalize their feelings, thoughts, and emotions. often feels invisible when voicing their opinions, invisible sometimes. they feel that they are silenced and ignored far too much. can make them feel depressed, lonely, or lack a social life. might also have a hard time concentrating on tasks, or always feeling hazy about unrelated things. there's so much that goes through these people's minds, but they never communicate it because they feel like they are going to be dismissed anyway. they have a passive communication style which can result to them feeling powerless often. these people need to learn how to advocate for themselves and stand up to express it. the challenging part for these people will be the lack of confidence, get yourself out there first and then become comfortable overtime, it can help tremendously. these people learn when it is too late for them, getting speech therapy, developing new bonds, can all help this person get over this fear of being dimmed.

chiron in 4th - the biggest struggle you will face will be with your family life. at home you feel restless, damaged, and traumatized. there's a lack of foundation or love from parents, siblings, relatives, where you have felt disconnected. could have dealt with abuse- physical, mental, emotional, and changed your perception of trust and made it hard for you to find comfort in your public life. your chiron might directly oppose your midheaven, which if that is the case you will probably deal with family members that paint you to be someone you're not, or can mess with your career and future negatively. these people feel a lack of security and worries of being abandoned or sends their love to all the wrong places. lots of emotional repression will keep these people in a burden. it is important for these people to realize that to break away from this chain they need to forgive and excel. accept the damage and be extremely careful of people who might take advantage of your emotional wellbeing. do not be easily swayed by false promises, or people who move fast with you, establish long and trust worthy connections to heal from your traumas.

chiron in 5th - you had a repressing childhood, this made you feel like an off-putting kid at times, felt that you never had a chance to shine, or your talents were dismissed by others. anytime you wanted to express all your desires, they made it seem like it was unattainable, and that your imagination was far too big for the things you could achieve. probably also villainized by parents who didn't understand your need for freedom and viewed it as rebellious. felt like others could have fun apart from you. felt detached from a young age from not being able to put all your energy into something that you were genuinely interested. made fun of for your confidence, or your expression. can also represent some childhood trauma from parents, even friends. you might have looked at other kids a lot and envied them for being more "popular" than you. as these people get older, chiron in 5th people will still deal with comments that they don't have what it takes to pursue their goals, or that they are given less chances than others. to heal from these things, chiron in 5th must let go of misconceptions others have on them and go for what their heart desires most. channel your confidence through your talents and let it speak for itself.

chiron in 6th - similar to chiron in 1st, these people can deal with body dysmorphia and self-image issues. however, their biggest struggle is their health overall. they may feel overly stressed, overly unfit, overly lazy, etc. they will have a tendency to over analyze the normal things they deal with. they are perfectionists, want everything to be exactly how they plan. if somethings don't go as planned, they fear that they aren't good enough and that they've ruined everything they have worked for. can have a bad outlook on eating, exercising, and working if they let their self-esteem issues become a burden. does not take criticism lightly even if it is constructive, doesn't like to be commented on regarding their routines and work ethics. they have great determination and ambition, but this can lead to an unhealthy burn out. they are their biggest critics, and they must succumb to realize that their patterns of overly repetitive behaviors need to be minimized. physical health is important, but so is your mental health. they tend to blur these two and forget that they must feel good inside to feel good outside. shift focus onto positive things about yourself, dramatic and good changes can com from it.

chiron in 7th - this doesn't necessarily mean these people have a hard time in relationships, but they feel unfulfilled when they are in one. they are committed and devoted, until they feel their partner has betrayed them in some way- it is easy for these people to feel betrayed. might deal with excessive legal issues- many tickets, court dates, divorces/marriages, documents, identity theft, list goes on. they hate feeling forced and shaped by others. they typically feel insecure that their partner doesn't appreciate them enough, and that they must change for them. they go through relationships like it's a bump in the road- not because they don't care, but because they genuinely feel their heart deserves to be in better hands than the ones that have dealt with it. this person can either be very slow or very fast in relationships. they prefer a slower relationship where there is mutual understanding and consistent appreciation. but once this is not reciprocated or balanced, chiron will seek out some other form of love and this can strain connections. they must learn to be fair and listen equally to their partners, avoid judgement right away and emphasize being graceful even through tough times of people doing them dirty.

chiron in 8th - has a hard time connecting to their shadow self. feels they have dealt with too much, that they would rather just leave it unacknowledged. however, it lingers to them everywhere they go actually. they read people and have hypersensitivity to settings. these people have a hard time processing change, life-death, anything transformative, this person fears the unknown. they fear that if they tap too deep into themselves that they will not like the things they find. sometimes it is hard for them to connect with others on a deep level because they are scared of intimacy, there's a struggle with filling their voids and go through all their dark times alone. they carry a weight of shame because they feel that it is somehow deserved for them to feel trapped into their darkness. the biggest thing these people need to realize is that fighting their inner-self makes a bad situation already worse. do not be afraid to discover yourself, restart if you have to, life is meant for you to go above and beyond for yourself and not just others. once you start listening to yourself, you can discern your negative emotional patterns and finally stop holding it in. many of your creative blockages come from simply holding back. stop resisting the new discoveries and embrace them.

chiron in 9th house - on a spiritual/religious level, you feel that you are choosing the wrong things for yourself. this usually stems from a lack of freedom. you might have been raised into a very religious household and held on to remnants of it as you got older, but never really questioned it until you grew up. can feel that you are sometimes stuck in the same place for too long, you rely on life carrying you instead of yourself. you stop prioritizing the role you play in YOUR life, and instead expect other things to come and save you. you find yourself living in "auto-pilot" a little too much. you only play it safe because it is all you know, do not be afraid to take risks and question everything. go to different locations, travel, study philosophies, religions, learn more. be abundant in your morals. sometimes you can feel that you are a bystander in your own life or that you keep yourself in this shadow because you haven't tapped into it yet. your biggest fear is not knowing, or seeming like an "air-head," as you get older this becomes less prevalent, as you have experienced much of life, however, do not be afraid to experience things because you can heal yourself and others while trying new things. make sure you are firm in everything you believe in.

chiron in 10th - these people can be ridiculed for their professions, or in their professions. workplace might feel toxic to you, usually chiron in 10th will experience these issues later on in life. feels that they cannot properly express themselves in the field they want or aren't sure of the field they want to go into. often, they can feel misguided by people in their lives swaying them to go after something that doesn't quite click with you. can lack immense confidence in starting their own business, developing work connections, or even working at all. they might overly work to compensate for other areas of their life which they struggle with. you might clash heads with people at your job, be perceived as uncertain or unwilling. you might feel that you stick out like a sore thumb amongst the others. you notice that you do a lot for less in return. biggest thing for these people to realize is they owe nobody nothing, keeping a clean attitude and a consistent drive is enough for them to be successful. as long as you maintain good spirit with others and don't allow room for petty gossip, your career and idolized life can be just how you like it. you must learn to let go of this vision of feeling less than your peers.

chiron in 11th - feels out of place, oftentimes does not "fit in" with the crowd and doesn't bother to. this can sometimes lead to an overly isolated personality. for the chiron in 11th, this can be unhealthy and lead to an avoidant mentality. probably dealt with many problems relating their bonds all throughout their lives, and eventually stopped caring to meet others expectation. felt like the odd one out, never felt that they shared the same morals or mindset as the people around them. usually keeps a very small circle and it is probably with creative partners like through their work life. bullied for being different, being more problem-solving than drown in misery kind, and not expressing themselves the same as their fellow peers. they have an ability to understand others who feel the same exact way, they love depth and relatability, however had a hard time finding this in others. loves to question norms, loves to feel accepted by people who also come with some damage. these people need people who can take them as they are and not question their differences. they felt shamed for this while they were younger, but as they get older, they realize it doesn't matter what others think. being different is your biggest lesson that you gradually had to accept, and once you have then you will feel less insecure to take on all your goals.

chiron in 12th - spiritually wounded, hard time with understanding what you are feeling. hard to make sense of why you feel the way you do sometimes, often leads to lash outs, breakdowns, insomnia, difficulty with the unknown as well. biggest fear is feeling uncertain with their instincts. bullied for their maturity or not meeting up to expectations people had on your when you were younger. often expecting you to know everything when you don't. experience severe withdrawals when facing pressure and hides behind facades to seem like it doesn't deeply affect them. often gullible to the words of others because their own words feel faint to them. feels incapable of their power, feels that they are not enough to hold judgement that is useful. fears of being alone, usually clings onto the company of others due to the hardship they face with being alone with their thoughts. has reoccurring nightmares, envisions things that aren't happening in real-time, feels that they are suffering on the inside to the point where it leaves them in depressive cycles. the most important thing for chiron in 12th to remember is that nobody is above or below them- in terms of your power it is always with you. just because you don't see it doesn't mean it doesn't exist. trust your judgements more-even if you are wrong. you lack experimenting with the little things sometimes, do not fall into an endless cycle of self-destruct, remember that you can make your fears work for you. figure out why you default-ly feel such a lack of security in the base of your mind. you are prone to stressing about things long before they happen, be present and collected.

thank u for reading, appreciate that you have made it this far. remember, that you are beautiful in your own skin and everything about you is completely fine the way it is. if these haven't applied to you then that is totally okay and i hope ease for these aspects of your life <3.

#astrology #astro notess #astro tumblr #astrology observations #chiron #chiron astrology

1K notes · View notes

neron-12 · 2 years

Text

𝗕𝗲𝘀𝘁 𝗪𝗮𝘆𝘀 𝗢𝗳 𝗢𝘃𝗲𝗿𝗰𝗼𝗺𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗖𝗵𝗮𝗹𝗹𝗲𝗻𝗴𝗲𝘀 𝗔𝗻𝗱 𝗗𝗶𝗳𝗳𝗶𝗰𝘂𝗹𝘁𝗶𝗲𝘀?

Challenges are naturally meant to be faced by everyone in life and the type of challenges we all face differs from one person to another;the challenges A faces might be 10 folds of what B faces.

However most people don't know how to overcome some of the challenges they face or prevent some from happening in some cases and they end up going through a mixture of emotions and depression.

One of the ways challenges can be overcome is always being calm,rational and always having a positive mindset. This makes you more creative and overall makes you a better decision maker and marking out plans on how to overcome the challenges you face.

The article I'll link below highlights three great ways challenges and difficulties can be overcome

Got some ways you've used to overcome challenges in the past? Share them in the comment section

#reading #depression #challenges #difficulties #overcome #how to #article #blog #mindset #anxiety #best ways #positive #strength #lol #fashion #art #aesthetic #beautiful #love #Tumblr #medium

0 notes

mononijikayu · 2 months

Text

casual — geto suguru.

You nodded, trying to keep your expression neutral. "Yeah, it was nice. Just, you know, casual." "Right, casual. I know, doll." Suguru echoed, his gaze lingering on you a moment longer before he looked away. "No strings attached." "Exactly, yeah…." you said, forcing a smile. "We're both busy, and this doesn't have to mean anything more than... what it was." "Yeah." he said, his voice a bit quieter. "Just a one-time thing. No need to complicate things."

GENRE: Alternate Universe - Canon Convergence;

WARNING/s: Angst, Unrequited Love, Romance, Casual Friends with Benefit, Falling In Love, Lack of Communication, Hurt/Comfort, Depression, Food, Disassociation, Smut, Depiction of Sexual Intercourse, Depiction of Depression, Depiction of Food Withdrawal, Depiction of Disassociation;

WORDS: 6k words.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: this took me awhile to write and i wish it didn't but i was busy trying to help my brother heal up from his own fever and then i also felt unwell after going out and visiting my cousins. crazy week so far, but i'm glad to be writing again!!! i'll be publishing pasilyo tomorrow!!! i hope you enjoy this and see you soon <3

══════════════════

YOU HATE THIS APARTMENT. You know you picked it out. You went through the painstaking process of finding the best you could afford in all of Tokyo, sifting through countless listings, visiting countless open houses, and scrutinizing every detail with a critical eye. You even reached out to Nanami, seeking his advice on how he had found his own place, hoping his insight would guide you to something perfect.

But now, standing in the middle of the empty apartment, it just feels overwhelming. The walls seem to close in around you, their pristine surfaces a harsh reminder of the solitude that awaits you. The space, while objectively beautiful and well-chosen, feels alien and unwelcoming. The soft, neutral colors and high-end finishes that once seemed so appealing now appear cold and impersonal, like a display in a showroom rather than a home.

Each corner, every room, is meticulously arranged, yet it all feels distant, disconnected. The furniture you carefully selected—elegant, stylish pieces that should have brought comfort—now feels like mere props in a stage set, lacking the warmth and familiarity of a true home. The shelves stand empty, the walls bare, and the lack of personal touches only amplifies the feeling of displacement.

You had envisioned this place as a haven, a refuge where you could build a new chapter of your life. Yet now, it feels like a stark reminder of everything you’ve lost, of the gaping void left by Suguru’s absence and the weight of the decisions that brought you here. The reality of living alone in such a polished, empty space contrasts sharply with the vibrant, chaotic life you once had, and the dissonance is almost too much to bear.

The once-anticipated comfort of the apartment now feels like a cage, trapping you in a space that reflects the isolation and emotional distance you’re struggling to overcome. You try to imagine filling the space with personal belongings, with memories that would make it truly yours, but the task feels daunting, almost insurmountable. Each step you take feels heavy, burdened by the weight of unfulfilled expectations and the deep, pervasive sadness that lingers in every corner of this new, unwelcoming environment.

Since Haibara died and Suguru defected, the world has felt irreparably altered. Their absence has left a void not just in your life but in the very fabric of the world you once knew. Their departures were seismic shifts, upheavals that have reshaped everything—your sense of security, your understanding of your place in the world, and the very essence of who you are. The bonds you once relied on have frayed, the connections you took for granted have been severed, and you are left grappling with a reality that seems both unfamiliar and unkind.

The change is not just in the external world but within yourself. The person you were before all these events feels like a distant memory, replaced by someone who struggles to find meaning and connection in the aftermath of loss and betrayal. How could you not change when everything around you has been transformed so drastically? The world has moved on, and you are left to navigate its new contours alone.

People are worried about you. The concern is palpable, especially from Gojo Satoru, who has always been like a brother to you, a constant in a world that has become increasingly unpredictable. His worry is perhaps the most poignant, reflecting the deep bond you share and the impact of your struggles on those who care about you. His concern is a reminder that while you feel isolated, there are still people who want to help, who see the pain you’re enduring, and who are willing to support you even as you grapple with the overwhelming weight of your new reality.

He’d been trying to reach you for weeks, his calls and messages a persistent thread in the silence of your days. Each notification from Gojo felt like a distant echo, a reminder of the world outside the narrow confines of your apartment. Yet, each time you saw his name on your screen, you hesitated, unable to muster the energy to respond. The weight of the past was a constant companion, keeping you awake through endless nights.

The dreams, when they came, were a cruel mockery of the life you once knew. Each night was filled with hauntingly vivid memories of better times with Suguru—laughter shared in quiet moments, his touch, and the warmth of his presence that now felt like an elusive phantom. The contrast between those dreams and the stark reality of your waking life was almost too much to bear.

Food, once a source of comfort and nourishment, had become a meaningless necessity. The meals you prepared, though carefully chosen, lay untouched on the counter. Their taste had lost all appeal, a reflection of the emptiness that now colored every aspect of your existence. Eating had become a mere act of survival, a stark reminder of the joy that had been stripped away.

The outside world, with its bustling streets and vibrant energy, felt distant, almost foreign. Tokyo’s vibrant chaos seemed to exist in a different realm, one that you could observe but not truly engage with. The city that once felt like a living, breathing entity now felt like a backdrop to your solitary struggle, its noise and activity a harsh contrast to the silence of your own life.

It was on one of these evenings, shrouded in solitude, that Gojo finally appeared at your door. His concern was palpable, a stark reminder of how far you’d retreated from those who cared about you. When you opened the door, he stood there, his face a mixture of frustration and worry.

“I’ve been calling you for weeks.” he said, his voice heavy with concern. “Are you okay? I haven’t heard from you in ages.”

You tried to muster a smile, but it fell short, your exhaustion too profound to conceal. “Oh, Gojo. I didn’t expect you.”

He stepped inside, his eyes quickly taking in the state of your apartment. The neatness of the space did nothing to hide the emptiness that pervaded it. “You don’t look well.” he said, his cerulean gaze moving to the cold meal on the counter. “I’ve been worried. What’s going on?”

You shrugged, feeling the weight of his scrutiny. “It’s nothing. Just... struggling, I guess. Food doesn’t taste right anymore.”

Gojo moved closer to the counter, his eyes scanning the untouched food. “This isn’t just about food. You need to take care of yourself. When was the last time you had a decent meal? When was the last time you really slept?”

You looked away, your voice trembling as you tried to suppress the tears. “I don’t sleep much. When I do, it’s filled with dreams of Suguru. It’s like he’s everywhere, but also nowhere.”

His expression softened, a flicker of empathy in his eyes. “I get it. You’re missing him. But you can’t let it consume you. You need to find a way to move forward.”

You shook your head, the enormity of the situation pressing down on you. “It’s not that simple. The outside world feels so distant now, almost foreign. I’m just... lost.”

Gojo’s hand gently rested on your shoulder, his touch a grounding presence. “I know…But you can’t do this. He…he wouldn’t want this either.”

You knew that. But you felt a pang of guilt as you tried to reassure Satoru about your well-being. The effort to project a sense of normalcy, to offer him even a glimmer of hope that things might improve, weighed heavily on you. You knew that your struggles were far from over, and while you didn’t want to burden him with the full extent of your despair, the pretense felt like a delicate dance on the edge of honesty.

Because you don’t know how he does it. How he keeps himself from going insane. You wished you did. You wished you could be him. Because you’re exhausted. You wanted to move on. You wanted to be free. But still, you’re here in this cage of grief, living like this. Being in pain. Being empty.

Your graduation, which should have been a moment of triumph, was marred by his absence. The empty chair next to you was a constant reminder of what you’d lost. Now, in the stillness of your apartment, the silence is deafening. The memories of laughter and shared dreams haunt you, and the loneliness seeps into your bones.

You can’t help but wonder where he is, what he’s doing, if he ever thinks of you too. Suguru’s defection was more than just a betrayal; it was a fracture, a deep wound that hasn’t healed. And as you sit in the vast emptiness of your apartment, you wonder if it ever will.

Back when you lived in Jujutsu High's dorms, life was different. Shoko would pop by unannounced, always ready to share the latest gossip, her presence a comforting constant. Those moments of laughter and whispered secrets felt like a lifetime ago. Back then, you had Digimon show nights with Satoru, the two of you arguing over favorite characters and plot twists, the banter and camaraderie a soothing balm to the stresses of your training.

And then there were those cold nights when you needed warmth, and Suguru Geto was there. His presence was a refuge, his arms a sanctuary. The conversations you'd have, the plans you'd make for the future, they were all wrapped in a cocoon of shared understanding and affection. His departure left a gaping hole, one that you haven't been able to fill.

Now, you are all alone. Anyone is, with your one’s grief. And now you truly are, separated from everyone else. The silence is oppressive, the loneliness a constant companion. The walls of your new apartment seem to close in on you, a stark reminder of what you once had and what you've lost. The memories of Shoko's gossip, Satoru's laughter, and Suguru's warmth are ghosts that haunt you, their absence a painful reminder of the life you once knew.

In the stillness of the night, you sometimes catch yourself hoping for a knock on the door, for Suguru to walk in with that familiar smile, as if everything could go back to the way it was. But reality is harsh, and you know that those days are gone. All you have now are the memories and the lingering hope that somehow, someday, things might change.

Geto Suguru left without saying anything, that day he went on his mission. He was supposed to be back in a day or two—at least that’s what he said during the phone call you shared when he was on that train. His voice, calm and reassuring, echoed in your mind long after the call ended. But that was the last time you heard his voice. The last time he called you. It was him getting off your seesaw game, finally stepping out of your world and leaving you with nothing but a broken heart.

And yet, he was never your boyfriend. You and him kept up the pretense, a delicate dance of closeness and distance, never truly naming what you had. The word "casual" was used way too much, a shield to protect fragile hearts from the vulnerability of the word "love." You remember the nights spent together, the conversations that felt like they meant something more, but neither of you dared to cross that line.

You often think back to that call, replaying every word, every nuance in his voice. It was supposed to be just another mission, nothing out of the ordinary. But something shifted, something changed, and Suguru never came back. His departure was like a cruel twist of fate, leaving you grappling with unanswered questions and unspoken feelings.

In the aftermath, you were left to navigate the wreckage alone. The routines you shared, the subtle intimacy of your connection, all shattered. The memories of his touch, his laugh, the way he looked at you when he thought you weren’t watching—they haunt you, a bittersweet reminder of what could have been.

You’ve tried to move on, to piece together a semblance of normalcy, but the void Suguru left is vast and unrelenting. The "casual" facade you both maintained now feels like a cruel joke, the missed opportunities for something deeper, more meaningful, a constant source of regret. You wonder if he ever felt the same, if he ever wanted to bridge the gap between you, but the answers are lost to the silence he left behind.

The seesaw game you played, the delicate balance of give and take, is now a lonely ride. You’re left suspended in midair, longing for the weight of his presence to bring you back down. But all you have are memories and the lingering ache of a love that was never fully realized, a connection that was always just out of reach.

The room was quiet, the only sound was the soft hum of the city outside the window. You lay there, the sheets tangled around your legs, your mind spinning with a mix of emotions. Suguru was next to you, propped up on one elbow, his dark eyes watching you intently.

"That was... something." you finally said, breaking the silence.

Suguru chuckled softly, a sound that sent a shiver down your spine. "Yeah, it was," he agreed. "Unexpected, but not unwelcome."

You nodded, trying to keep your expression neutral. "Yeah, it was nice. Just, you know, casual."

"Right, casual. I know, doll." Suguru echoed, his gaze lingering on you a moment longer before he looked away. "No strings attached."

"Exactly, yeah…." you said, forcing a smile. "We're both busy, and this doesn't have to mean anything more than... what it was."

"Yeah." he said, his voice a bit quieter. "Just a one-time thing. No need to complicate things."

You felt a pang in your chest but ignored it, keeping your tone light. "Right, no need to complicate things. We have enough going on with our missions and training."

"Absolutely, you’re right." Suguru said, but his purple eyes told a different story. There was a flicker of something deeper, something more, but it was quickly masked by a casual smile. "We're just two friends who had a good time."

"Exactly." you repeated, wishing you could believe it. "......Just two friends."

Suguru reached out, his fingers brushing a strand of hair from your face. "I don't want this to change anything between us, doll." he said softly. "I value what we have."

You nodded, your heart pounding. "Me too. This doesn't have to change anything."

He smiled, but there was a hint of sadness in his eyes. "Good. I'm glad we agree."

You both lay there for a moment longer, the weight of unspoken words hanging between you. Finally, Suguru sighed and rolled onto his back, staring up at the ceiling. "So, breakfast?"

You laughed, the tension breaking slightly. "Yeah, breakfast sounds good."

You felt like crying again, and you hated it. You hated yourself for it. Because there was nothing between you and Suguru. You were casual. It’s been a year, and there was nothing after that. He left you. He chose his path. He chose to burn the world to free himself from torment. But now, you are in torment.

You sat on the edge of your bed, the weight of the silence pressing down on you. The memories of that night haunted you, the way he had looked at you, the way his touch had set your skin on fire. It was casual. Just a one-time thing. That’s what you told yourself, what you both agreed on. But the lie felt like a knife twisting in your gut now.

Suguru had left, and with him, he took the future you had secretly hoped for. You were in love with him. You didn’t want anything to be casual with him. You didn’t want it to be nothing. You wanted more, so much more, and now you knew you would never get anything.

The tears threatened to spill over, and you clenched your fists, trying to hold them back. You hated how weak you felt, how vulnerable. The world moved on, but you were stuck, trapped in a web of your own making. Suguru’s absence was a constant ache, a reminder of what you had lost, what you could never have.

He chose his path, and it led him away from you. It led him to destruction, to a darkness that swallowed him whole. And now, you were left to pick up the pieces of your shattered heart, alone in the vast emptiness of your new apartment. The echoes of your own thoughts were deafening, and the realization that you would never see him again, never hear his voice, never feel his touch—it was almost too much to bear.

You buried your face in your hands, the tears finally escaping, hot and bitter. The sobs wracked your body, each one a painful reminder of your unspoken feelings. You had wanted so much more, but you had been too afraid to ask, too afraid to risk the fragile balance you had. And now, it was too late.

Suguru was gone, and with him, any chance of something more. You were left with memories and regrets, with the knowledge that he had chosen his path, and you were not a part of it. The torment of unrequited love consumed you, a relentless ache that you couldn’t escape. You cried for what was, for what could have been, and for the future that would never be.

There was a strange stillness in the air, a quiet that felt almost suffocating. It felt different tonight. You sat on the edge of your bed, staring blankly at the wall, your thoughts a tangled mess of memories and regrets. The knock on your door was so soft, you almost didn't hear it. For a moment, you thought you had imagined it, but then it came again, more insistent this time.

You wiped your eyes, forcing yourself to stand. Each step toward the door felt like walking through quicksand, your heart pounding in your chest. You weren't expecting anyone. As you reached for the doorknob, a part of you wondered if you were dreaming, if the grief had finally driven you mad.

You opened the door slowly, the hinges creaking in protest. And there he was. Geto Suguru stood in the doorway, looking every bit as if you remembered him, but different somehow. His eyes held a depth of sadness, a haunted look that mirrored your own. He seemed exhausted. As much as you, you think. But you say nothing for a few moments. You just stare at him, as though trying to be sure you weren’t hallucinating.

"Suguru?" Your voice was barely a whisper, the word catching in your throat.

He gave you a small, almost hesitant smile. "Hey."

"What are you doing here?" you asked, your voice trembling with emotions. “Why—”

"I needed to see you, doll." he said softly. "I just had to see you tonight….will you let me in?”

You don’t know how he found out your address. Or how he was able to know which apartment block yours was. But you didn’t say anything. You didn’t want to force anything tonight. You nodded and stepped back, allowing him to enter. The silence between you was heavy, filled with all the words that had been left unsaid. You closed the door and turned to face him, your heart aching with a mix of hope and fear.

"Why now?" you asked, your eyes searching for him. “Why come back to me now? I….I’m not…”

He looks at you, almost longingly. “I don’t know.”

The weight of Suguru's confession hung in the air, but before you could process it, he spoke again, breaking the silence. "I know this is unexpected. I know I don't have the right to just show up here like this, but I need to talk to you.”

You stepped back, the doorway now feeling like a chasm between you. "Suguru, this is a bad idea. You shouldn’t be—”

He took a hesitant step inside, his presence filling the space. "I just want to talk. Please."

The room felt smaller, more suffocating, with him in it. The tension was palpable, a fragile thread that could snap at any moment. He glanced around the room, his eyes lingering on familiar objects—things that hadn't changed since he left. Things he wished wouldn't change. From the corner of his eye, he could see it. That uniform button he left behind. He purses his lips.

"How are you?" he asked, his voice low and careful.

You crossed your arms, trying to hold yourself together. "How do you think I am, Suguru? There's an order to kill you on the spot. If people find out you're here with me, the higher ups will get me.”

He flinched at your words, a shadow passing over his face. "I know the risks. I wouldn't have come if I didn't think it was important."

You shook your head, frustration and fear mingling in your chest. "Important? You think this is important? You left, Suguru. You choose your path, and it has nothing to do with me. Now you show up out of nowhere, and you want to talk?"

"I had to." he said, his voice almost pleading. "I've made so many mistakes, but leaving you was the worst one. I had to see you, to tell you how I feel."

Your heart ached at his words, but the reality of the situation loomed large. "And what do you expect me to do with that information? Do you want me to just forgive and forget? To pretend like everything's fine when it's not?"

He took another step closer, his eyes searching yours. "I don't expect anything. I just needed you to know. I needed to try and make things right."

You looked away, the emotions swirling inside you too much to bear. "Suguru, you don't understand. It's not just about us. If they find out you're here, they'll kill you. And I'll be branded a traitor."

He nodded slowly, understanding the gravity of your words. "I know. And I'm sorry for putting you in this position. But I couldn't stay away. Not anymore."

The room was thick with tension, the weight of everything unsaid pressing down on you both. You wanted to reach out, to bridge the gap between you, but the fear of the consequences held you back.

"I don't know what to do." you admitted, your voice breaking. "I don't know how…I don’t know how to handle this."

Suguru stepped closer, his hand hovering near yours. "You don't have to do anything. Just let me be here, even if it's just for a little while. Let me be with you."

You looked up at him, the pain and regret in his eyes mirroring your own. The risk was enormous, but the pull of your heart was stronger. For a moment, you allowed yourself to imagine that things could be different, that maybe, somehow, you could find a way through this together.

But reality crashed back down, harsh and unyielding. "Suguru, this can't last. You know that."

He nodded, his expression filled with sorrow. "I know. But for now, can we just..."

You took a deep breath, the conflict tearing you apart. "Okay. For now."

Suguru’s eyes softened at your words, relief washing over his features. The air between you was thick with unspoken emotions, the tension palpable. You could feel your resolve wavering, the walls you had built around your heart crumbling with every passing second.

He took another step closer, closing the distance between you. His hand reached out, gently brushing against yours. The touch was electric, sending a shiver down your spine. You looked up at him, your breath catching in your throat as his gaze held yours.

“For now.” he repeated softly, his voice filled with a mixture of hope and longing.

You couldn’t hold back any longer. The months of separation, the endless nights of aching for him, all came crashing down in that moment. You closed the gap between you, your lips finding his in a desperate, hungry kiss.

Suguru responded instantly, his arms wrapping around you, pulling you closer. The kiss was intense, filled with all the emotions you had both kept bottled up for so long. It was as if you were trying to make up for lost time, to pour all your love and longing into that single, searing connection.

Your hands tangled in his hair, pulling him closer, needing to feel him, to assure yourself that he was really there. Suguru’s hands roamed over your back, his touch igniting a fire within you. The kiss deepened, growing more fervent, more desperate. You broke the kiss just long enough to catch your breath, your foreheads resting against each other. The intensity of your emotions left you both breathless, but neither of you pulled away.

“Suguru.” you whispered, your voice trembling with the weight of everything you felt.

“I know.” he murmured, his breath warm against your lips. “I know.”

You kissed him again, this time even more passionately, your need for him overwhelming any lingering doubts. His hands slid under your shirt, his touch sending sparks of electricity through your body. You gasped against his lips, your body responding to him in ways you had tried to forget.

The world outside ceased to exist, the only thing that mattered was Suguru. Being here with you. The kiss grew more intense, a fierce clash of lips and tongues, as if you were both trying to make up for the lost time, for all the moments you had been apart.

Suguru’s hands moved to your waist, lifting you effortlessly and guiding you toward the bed. You didn’t resist, your body craving his touch, his closeness. As he laid you down gently, his lips never leaving yours, you felt a sense of rightness, a feeling that this was where you were meant to be.

His body pressed against yours, the heat between you growing more intense. Every touch, every kiss, was a reminder of what you had lost and found again. Your hands roamed over his back, pulling him closer, needing to feel every inch of him.

“Suguru.” you whispered, your voice filled with a mixture of need and desperation.

He responded with a soft groan, his lips trailing down your neck, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. “I’ve missed you so much, doll.” he murmured against your skin. “Too much…”

You arched into his touch, your body responding to him in ways you had almost forgotten. The intensity of your desire for him was overwhelming, a force you couldn’t control. You pulled him back up, capturing his lips in another searing kiss.

As the kiss deepened, the intensity grew, the passion between you igniting like a wildfire. And for the first time in a long time, you allowed yourself to hope, to believe that maybe, just maybe, there was a chance for something more.

The walls themselves felt like they were closing in, drawn tighter by the charged energy of the moment. The temperature seemed to rise with every movement, the warmth of your bodies pressed together creating a cocoon of intimacy and passion.

You moaned against the kiss, feeling his hand around the back of your neck, his fingers tangling in your hair. He was always so good at making you defenseless when it came to him. When it came to Suguru, you surrendered without a fight.

His lips trailed down your jawline, planting heated kisses along the sensitive skin of your neck. Each touch sent shivers down your spine, your body arching into him, craving more. His other hand roamed over your back, his touch firm yet gentle, as if he were memorizing every inch of you.

"You have no idea how much I've missed this." he whispered against your skin, his breath hot and tantalizing. “How much I missed you.”

You could barely form words, your mind clouded with desire. "S–suguru…." you breathed, your voice trembling with need.

He pulled back just enough to look into your eyes, his own gaze dark with intensity. "Say it, doll." he urged, his voice a low, husky command. “Use your words.”

"Suguru, please." you repeated, feeling the heat of his name on your lips, the weight of it in the air between you. “I need you.”

A satisfied smile curved his lips before he kissed you again, deeper this time, his tongue exploring your mouth with a fierce, possessive hunger. You responded eagerly, your hands clutching at his shoulders, pulling him closer, needing to feel him, to lose yourself in him.

His hand slid down from your neck to the small of your back, pulling you against him, your bodies fitting together perfectly. The sensation was almost overwhelming, a mix of intense pleasure and deep, unfulfilled longing. Your heart pounded in your chest, the sound echoing in your ears, drowning out any remaining doubts.

As the kiss grew more fervent, more desperate, you felt yourself melting into him, your defenses crumbling with every touch, every caress. Suguru had always had this effect on you, this ability to make you forget everything else, to make you feel like you were the only two people in the world.

"I missed you." you whispered against his lips, the confession slipping out before you could stop it.

He groaned in response, his hand sliding up under your shirt, his touch searing against your skin. "I missed you too, doll." he murmured, his voice thick with desire. "More than you know."

As he continued to kiss you, his hands exploring your body with a reverence that made your heart ache, you realized that no matter what happened next, no matter the consequences, this moment was worth it. Being with Suguru, feeling his love, his desire, his need—it was everything you had ever wanted, everything you had been missing.

And in that instant, you knew you would face any danger, any threat, just to keep him here with you, to hold onto this feeling for as long as you could. Because when it came to Suguru, you were willing to surrender without a fight.

The heat between you was almost unbearable, the intensity of your desire for Suguru consuming you. His hands continued their exploration, each touch sending waves of pleasure through your body. You could feel his need, his desperation, mirrored in your own.

"Suguru…" you whispered again, your voice a mix of longing and urgency.

He responded with a deep, passionate kiss, his tongue delving into your mouth, tasting, exploring. Your hands roamed over his back, pulling him closer, needing to feel every inch of him against you. The sensation of his body pressed against yours was intoxicating, driving you to the brink of madness.

His hand slid under your shirt, his fingers tracing a path up your spine, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. You arched into his touch, a soft moan escaping your lips as he reached the clasp of your bra, deftly undoing it. The feeling of his hands on your bare skin was electric, every nerve ending alive with sensation.

"You feel so good, doll." he murmured against your lips, his voice husky with desire.

His words sent a shiver down your spine, your body responding instinctively. You tugged at his shirt, needing to feel his skin against yours. He helped you, pulling it over his head and tossing it aside, revealing the toned muscles of his chest and abdomen.

You ran your hands over his chest, your fingers tracing the lines of his muscles, feeling the heat of his skin beneath your touch. He groaned softly, his hands moving to your hips, pulling you closer. The feel of his arousal against your thigh sent a surge of desire through you, your need for him growing more intense with every passing second.

He lifted your shirt over your head, his eyes darkened with lust as he took in the sight of you. "You're beautiful." he said, his voice filled with admiration.

You blushed under his gaze, feeling a mix of shyness and exhilaration. "Suguru." you breathed, reaching for him.

He kissed you again, hungrier than before. You could feel his hands sliding down to your jeans, unbuttoning them with practiced ease. You helped him, pushing the fabric down your hips, kicking them off along with your underwear. The cool air against your skin was a stark contrast to the heat between you, heightening your senses.

Suguru's eyes roamed over your body, his expression one of reverence and hunger. He reached for you, his hands gentle yet firm as he guided you back onto the bed. You lay there, your heart pounding, as he stripped off the rest of his clothes, revealing the full extent of his arousal.

He climbed onto the bed, his body hovering over yours, the heat of his skin radiating against you. He kissed you again, his lips trailing down your neck, your collarbone, his hands exploring every inch of you. The sensation was almost overwhelming, your body arching into his touch, craving more.

"I need you." he whispered against your skin, his voice filled with urgency.

"Then take me." you replied, your voice trembling with anticipation.

He positioned himself between your legs, his hands gripping your hips as he slowly entered you. The sensation was exquisite, a mix of pleasure and pain that left you gasping, your body adjusting to the fullness of him.

"So deep, Su…." you moaned, your hands clutching at his back, your nails digging into his skin.

He moved slowly at first, his strokes deep and measured, his eyes locked onto yours. The intensity of his gaze, the connection between you, was almost too much to bear. You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him deeper, urging him on.

He responded with a groan, his pace quickening, each thrust sending waves of pleasure through your body. You moved together in perfect rhythm, your bodies melding into one, the world outside fading away.

Every touch, every kiss, every movement—each a story of love and desire you felt for each other. The intensity built with each passing second, your moans mingling with his, the sound of your bodies coming together filling the room.

"S–suguru!" you gasped, feeling the tension building, the climax approaching. “I….I’m close!”

He kissed you deeply, his movements becoming more frantic, more desperate. "I love you, doll." he whispered against your lips, his voice raw with emotion. “More than you know.”

The words sent you over the edge, your body convulsing with pleasure, your vision blurring as the orgasm washed over you. Suguru followed moments later, releasing a powerful, shuddering wave that left him breathless, his body collapsing against yours.

You lay there together, your bodies intertwined, the aftermath of your lovemaking leaving you both spent and sated. For a moment, the world was perfect, the dangers and fears forgotten. In that moment, all that mattered was the love you shared, the connection that bound you together.

Suguru propped himself up on one elbow, his gaze tender as he looked down at you. You turned to face him, your eyes heavy with a mixture of satisfaction and lingering emotions. He stroked your hair gently, his touch soothing.

"I know I’ve been gone for a long time.”

“You have.”

“I’m sorry for leaving you without any explanation." He whispered to you. “For making you suffer.”

You sighed, closing your eyes as you listened to his words. "It’s been really hard. I didn’t know if you were ever coming back. And when you did… it was like opening old wounds all over again."

Suguru’s fingers traced patterns on your back, his touch calming. "I understand. I’ve had time to think about everything, and I realize now how much I hurt you. I didn’t mean to. But I needed to see you, to try to make things right, even if I’m not sure how."

You looked up at him, your eyes filled with a mix of sadness and hope. "What do you want from me, Suguru? What do we do now?"

He took a deep breath, his expression serious. "I don’t expect things to go back to how they were before. I just want to be honest with you.”

The sincerity in his voice touched something deep inside you. You took his hand, squeezing it gently. "You’re someone dear to me, Suguru. You always will be.”

You could see how painfully beautiful his smile was. And just as much, how easily he started to grieve this moment. “I know.”

You snuggled closer to him, your body seeking the warmth and comfort of his embrace. As the weight of the conversation and the exhaustion from the emotional rollercoaster began to take their toll, you felt yourself growing drowsy.

Suguru’s arms tightened around you, his presence a soothing balm to your restless heart. "You should get some rest," he murmured, his voice gentle. "I’ll be here until you fall asleep."

You nodded, your eyes fluttering shut as the comforting rhythm of his heartbeat lulled you into a peaceful slumber. The feeling of his body pressed against yours, the gentle caress of his hand on your back, was all you needed to drift off.

When you awoke, it was to the soft, hesitant brush of Suguru’s lips against yours. You stirred, your eyes blinking open to find him gazing at you with a mixture of sadness and affection.

“I have to go, doll,” Suguru said quietly, his voice filled with regret. “But I’ll be thinking of you. Always. Wherever I go, wherever I am. I’ll only love you. Only you.”

You didn’t know what to say to that. The weight of his words hung heavily in the air, each syllable resonating deep within you. You wanted to respond, to find the right words to express how much his declaration meant to you, but the lump in your throat made it difficult to speak.

Instead, you simply reached out, your hand finding his, holding it tightly as if trying to anchor him to this moment. His fingers intertwined with yours, and for a brief second, you found solace in the connection, the warmth of his touch providing a bittersweet comfort.

Suguru leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering as if trying to imprint the memory of your skin on his own. His eyes met yours one last time, filled with an intensity that spoke of a deep and unspoken promise.

“Take care of yourself, doll.” he whispered, his voice barely more than a breath. “Live for me.”

You nodded, your eyes misting as you tried to hold back the tears. “I will. You too, Suguru. Be safe.

He kissed you one last time, a tender, lingering kiss that seemed to hold all the words left unspoken. His lips brushed against yours with a softness that belied the intensity of the emotions swirling between you. It was a kiss that conveyed both farewell and the depth of his feelings, a final, aching promise wrapped in the warmth of his touch.

As he pulled away, his eyes searched for yours, filled with a profound sadness that matched the heaviness in your heart. There was a moment where time seemed to stand still, where every second stretched into eternity. The look he gave you was a mixture of regret and deep affection, as if he were trying to imprint this final moment into his memory, to hold onto it even as he had to let go.

With a final, loving glance, he slowly rose from the bed, the movement reluctant and heavy. The contrast between the intimacy you had shared moments before and the distance growing between you now felt like a cruel irony. He began to dress, his actions slow and methodical, each movement a reminder of the separation that loomed ahead.

You watched him, feeling a hollow ache settle in your chest. The sight of him buttoning his shirt, pulling on his jacket, seemed to magnify the reality of his departure. Each piece of clothing he put on felt like a barrier, a wall being erected between you. The warmth of his touch was replaced by the cold distance of impending goodbye.

When he finally finished dressing, he paused by the door, turning back to you with one last, lingering look. His eyes were filled with a mixture of sorrow and determination, the kind of gaze that promised he would carry you with him, even as he walked away. The sight of him standing there, so close yet so far, was almost too much to bear.

He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself, and then slowly walked toward the door. Each step he took felt like a betrayal to the moment you had shared, each creak of the floorboards a painful reminder of the separation. As he reached the door, he turned to look at you one last time, his expression a final plea for you to understand.

“Goodbye, doll.” he said softly, his voice breaking slightly with the weight of his emotions.

With those final words, he opened the door and stepped out into the hallway, leaving you alone in the room that now felt unbearably empty. The door closed behind him with a soft click, and the sound echoed in the silence that followed.

You sat there, feeling the overwhelming sense of loss, the weight of his absence pressing down on you. The room, once filled with the warmth of his presence, now felt cold and desolate. You reached out to the space he had occupied, your hand trembling as if trying to grasp at the remnants of his touch.

The tears finally came, streaming down your face in silent, aching sobs. The finality of his departure settled in, leaving you with the bittersweet memory of his touch, his kisses, and the love you had shared. As you buried your face in your hands, the pain of his absence was a stark reminder of the reality you had to face, the love that remained but was now out of reach.

You lay back down on the bed, the lingering warmth of his presence a bittersweet comfort. Yearning for what remained of him. The reality of his departure settled in, slowly. Tears kept falling and you couldn’t stop them. When you closed your eyes, all you could see was him.

You cried until you were too tired to do it. And as you drifted back to sleep, you held onto the memory of his touch, his kisses, and the promise that, despite everything, he would always be a part of your heart. He would always be your ghost. He would always haunt you, even when you’re old and gray — he would always be more than a casual memory. He’d always be the one that got away. And you knew….you were his too.

306 notes · View notes

poeticpascal · 1 year

Text

Home (Joel Miller x Barbie!Reader)

Masterlist | Request here!

Summary: When a deep sense of loneliness overcomes Cowgirl Barbie, she leaves Barbieland to find whatever poor kid it is that's making her feel that way. Of course, she could never have expected just how much light Sarah would bring to her life, and she certainly didn't expect the things her grumpy father would teach her about love.

Word count: 10.6k

Warnings: Barbie movie spoilers, angst, angry Joel (he's insecure and protective), descriptions of loneliness, lots of fluff!

A/n: this is literally my Magnum Opus. Reader is Cowgirl Barbie. I truly hope you love this as much as I do 💖

Barbieland has been very different since Stereotypical Barbie left. Good different.

The Kens have jobs now, proper jobs, not just ‘Beach’ or ‘Surf’. They’re not the most competent workers Barbieland has ever seen; they get too distracted trying on new overalls at the building site or throwing paper aeroplanes at each other in the offices. But they’re trying, and you have to admit, it’s pretty adorable seeing them so excited to head off to work each morning.

Barbieland has laughter now, true laughter, not perfect giggles but the kind that brings tears to your eyes and makes your belly hurt. It has crying, proper full-bodied sobs that rack through your chest, aching in a good way. And it has life. Fervent, overwhelming, painfully brilliant life.

It’s magnificent, even the really hard bits. Which there are a lot of.

Like losing someone you really, really love.

Stereotypical Barbie - Barbara, as she’s known now - had been your best friend. Your Dreamhouse was right next to hers, and every morning you’d float down to the streets together, where she’d hop into her little pink car and you’d mount your pony and ride into town. It was perfect, a sweet little life surrounded by pinkness and joy, and if you’re being completely honest with yourself, you miss it.

You bonded over how displaced you both felt. Neither of you really had a thing, a specific job to do. She was Stereotypical Barbie, and you’re Cowgirl Barbie. Destined to wear dusty denim and cowboy hats for all of eternity; not a doctor, not a physicist, not an astronaut and certainly not the president. Just a cowgirl.

And there aren’t even any cows.

That was what brought you and Stereotypical Barbie together; you both felt slightly unsure of the world, however perfect it may be, and you found friendship in that.

So when she left, that hurt.

Because she found purpose.

Purpose in feeling, and knowing, and living.

Purpose in things you could only dream about. And what you hate the most is that she was right.

It feels good to hurt. It feels good to have that pain in your chest, that ache in your cheeks when you’re not quite done crying yet. That emptiness that fills the space where flowers had once bloomed.

It feels like shit to miss your friend, and it feels incredible to have loved someone so much that you miss them.

And that’s the beauty she brought to your life. To all the Barbies’ lives.

But it still goddamn hurts.

About as much as the strange thoughts of loneliness have hurt the past few weeks.

You’re never alone in Barbieland; there’s always someone there, a friend, a listening ear. A million other Barbies who genuinely care.

But the feeling is so strong, so heavy in your gut, that all the Barbies and Kens and Allens in the world can’t take it away.

Which only calls for one thing.

“Your friend had the same problem, you know,” Weird Barbie says, walking round you in circles like prey. You gulp; she’s significantly less ‘weird’ now, what with her fancy job at the Capital and the whole ‘awakened Barbies’ thing, but she certainly kept some habits that set you a little bit on edge.

“How do you mean?” You stutter, trying to keep up as she continues to stalk around you and make strange gestures.

“First came the depression-” she pulls down a presentation screen from god-knows where, one decorated with the typical Barbie anatomy and annotated with the same notes Weird Barbie is now recounting. She points to the head, ‘depression’ scribbled beside it, and stops in front of you.

“And then-” she moves again, rotating to the other side of the screen and pointing to the drawing’s legs. “-came the cellulite.”

She pauses, seemingly waiting for some big reaction, but you just stare. Sure, cellulite was feared back then, but almost every Barbie has it now, and it’s really no big deal. “...okay?” you posit, slightly more concerned as Weird Barbie’s face falls at your reply.

“Damn, I guess we really are doing things differently now.” Her surprise is dropped quickly, as she continues to explain what it means to be overcome with these awful feelings so quickly.

“In the end, sweetheart, there’s only one way to fix this.” She leans in uncomfortably close, making you gulp. “You gotta go to the real world.”

You had a feeling she’d say that.

♡❀˖⁺. ༶ ⋆˙⊹❀♡

When you arrive in the real world, there’s really only one person you can go to. The one person you’ve missed more than anything.

She was your best friend, and yet standing here on the doorstep of an apartment that looks nothing like a Dreamhouse, you can’t help how nervous you feel.

She’d given all the Barbies her new address, in case any of them managed to sneak into the real world, so she mustn’t mind that you’re here. But she’ll be so different now, so human, and you’re still just a Barbie with a jaunty cowgirl outfit and a sunny disposition.

Your worries are immediately washed away when the door flings open, and before you can even see who it is, a pair of arms are tightly wrapped around your neck and you’re pulled in for a big, warm hug. But you know who it is, and you hug her back immediately, tears welling in your eyes as you finally hold your best friend again.

Barbara pulls back, holding your cheeks in her hands, almost like she didn’t think you were really there. “I can’t believe you’re here!” She grins, hugging you again with a giggle. “I missed you so much.”

“Oh, Barbara, I missed you too,” you cry, not wanting to let her go.

“What are you doing here?” She asks, and you finally relax your arms, taking in how much she’s changed. She isn’t wearing anything pink, or sparkly, but a white blouse and nude pants that look very professional. Very human. Very different.

You don’t reply to her question, unsure of what the answer even is, and that alone makes her worried. So she takes you by the hand and leads you into her apartment, one painted white with sweet pictures on the walls of her with Sasha and Gloria, and some other women you don’t recognise. It makes you a little jealous.

She leads you to the kitchen, sitting you on a bar stool and pouring tea for you both. You go to drink it, holding the cup away from your mouth and tipping it, but she quickly jumps up shouting “no!” and pulling the cup down.

She laughs, making you laugh nervously too, and explains you need to hold the cup to your lips and sip. “Are you sure?” you ask, staring down at the liquid and tentatively trying to drink it, the warmth on your tongue foreign but sweet.

“Yep! That’s how we drink here. I know it’s weird but once you get used to it, it’s so good.”

You smile, putting down the cup and looking back at your friend. “Things are pretty different here, huh?”

Barbara smiles, nodding her head and swinging her legs where they hang from the stool. “Yep! Isn’t it great?”

“Yeah, it is,” you reply, with a fraction of the excitement. You push a loose strand of hair behind your ear, knocking your hat slightly which you quickly correct into place, acutely aware of yourself in the presence of someone who’s changed so much. “Do… do you ever miss us? The Barbies?”

She grimaces, making you regret asking as soon as the words leave your lips. Her eyebrows sink into concern, and she sets her tea down beside yours, taking your hand and squeezing it tightly.

“Every single day. Of course I miss you - I even miss the Kens!” You both giggle, and you’re reminded of how things were before.

You have to admit, you almost asked your Ken to come with you, but he was having so much fun in Barbieland now that you couldn’t bring yourself to take him away from it.

“I’m so sorry I made you feel that way.” Her eyes have welled up now, and guilt hits you like a truck.

“No, no, I’m sorry. You didn’t do anything wrong. I’m so happy for you, truly.” You smile, and you know she knows you mean it. “I just… I feel so lonely. It’s like a big hole in my chest, all the time. No matter what I do, no matter how many girl’s nights and big blowout parties and days on the beach, I just feel lonely. And it’s even worse without you here.”

Barbara holds your hand tighter, and something you said seems to have caught her attention. “You mean you felt like this even before I left? Before the Kendom?”

You nod, sheepish, and her eyes squint in thought. Then, as if a lightbulb has gone off in her head, she gives you her trademark big white smile and excitedly shouts, “I know what you need to do!”

She jumps off her chair, grabbing your hand and pulling you towards the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking LA. You stand there for a moment, taking in the view, the overwhelming sights and sounds of rushing traffic below you. It’s beautiful and terrifying at the same time.

“You need to find the little girl who’s playing with you,” Barbara whispers, watching your amazement.

“Isn’t that what you did?” You ask, finally pulling your eyes away to face your friend. She nods, her smile just as bright and honest as ever, and it makes the idea of facing this big wide world seem a little less scary.

“I’ll come with you, we’ll go find her, and we’ll figure out what’s been making her feel so lonely.”

“Will you really come with me?”

You already know the answer; of course she will. She’s the kindest person you know. Of course, all the Barbies are the kindest people you know, but that’s a technicality you don’t feel like getting into right now.

“You know it,” she grins, and you can’t help but grin back as you think about what an adventure this is going to be.

“How will I know where to find her?” You ask, looking back through the window at the huge world on the other side of the glass. How could you possibly find your kid?

Barbie tugs you to face her, straightens your hat and looks directly into your eyes, making you focus. “You gotta be really calm, okay? Just close your eyes, clear your mind, and find her memories. And then try to figure out where she is. That’s how I found Sasha!’

You nod, not quite sure how this is going to work, if this is going to work. But you try anyway, squeezing your eyes shut and doing your best to shush all the noise and confusion in your head, desperately searching for anything that could help you find your kid. You get nothing, ready to give up after a few minutes of emptiness, when suddenly - there it is, the faintest hint of a memory.

“Dad, can we have a movie night tonight?” Sarah asks, watching as Joel paces the room, frantically searching for his other shoe.

“Yeah, sweetheart, course,” he replies. She smiles, heading over to the TV stand and already searching for a film to watch, giggling as her Dad begins to lift up the couch cushions.

She looks down, seeing the shoe hiding just behind the stand, and rolls her eyes as she picks it up and throws it at him. “How’d you find it?” He mutters, scoffing as she just laughs at him, though a matching grin is etching its way onto his lips.

He slides on the other shoe, grabbing his wallet and keys and heading over to give Sarah a kiss on the head. “When will you be home?” She asks, and he offers a guilty smile that doesn’t make her particularly hopeful.

“Soon as I can, Sarah. Around 8? 9 at the latest.” She nods, forcing a smile and letting him go, and Joel’s out the door in a flash with a final shout of “Love you, honey!” and a slam of the door.

The memory changes, then.

It’s nighttime, and Sarah lies alone on the couch, a movie playing that she doesn’t seem to be really watching. Her eyes flicker up to the mantlepiece, where the clock reads 10:13, and she sighs.

Then she stands, traipsing into the hallway and towards the front door, where the key hangs in the lock. She turns it, unlocking the door and leaving the key on the sidetable, then picking up a piece of mail that had been left there.

“51 Mulberry Road

Travis County

Austin, Texas

Dear Mr. Miller, we are writing to solicit your contracting services for our new development…”

Sarah groans, throwing the letter back on the table and muttering “more work, great.” She retreats upstairs, slamming the door behind her and climbing into bed…

You’re pulled out of the memory by Barbara’s voice, filled with excitement. “Can you see her? Do you know her name? Do you know where she is?”

“Sarah” you mumble, still dazed. “Sarah, her name’s Sarah.”

Barbara squeals, clapping her hands together before calming herself and urging you to continue. “And? Where is she?”

You concentrate, trying to remember what was written on the letter you saw. “Er… Texas. Yeah, she’s in Texas. Mulberry Road. Is that close?”

She pulls a face, a yeah… no kind of face, then grabs a big book from under her coffee table and flips it open. You watch in amazement as she scans the pages and pages of maps inside, until she shouts, “a-ha!”, pointing to a spot on a page titled ‘The United States of America’. “Here it is. We’ll need to fly there.”

A nervous excitement brews in your tummy, your eyes glued to the little spot on the map labelled Texas. The spot where Sarah lives, with her Dad. The place you’re destined to find.

“Oh, and don’t get freaked out… but men fly planes here.” Your head snaps up, confusion painting your face, and Barbara just nods at your reaction.

“Seriously?” You ask, wondering if she was just playing a prank. “Is… is that safe?”

She giggles, putting the book down and grabbing your hand. “Yep, there’s a lot to get used to here. You’ll see. Now come on, we need to pack our bags!”

♡❀˖⁺. ༶ ⋆˙⊹❀♡

And so here you are, on a flight to Texas, on your way to find Sarah and bring an end to her loneliness.

Barbara tells you all about the real world. How different yet wonderful it is, how much there is to do and see and feel. She’s at university now, getting qualifications to be a psychologist and work with young girls who are struggling. It’s brilliant, but strange, you think - qualifications aren’t needed in Barbieland - anyone can just do anything. Well, the Barbies can. And the Kens really do try.

The journey is filled with new and exciting things, but it’s scattered with memories of Sarah and her dad that pop up in your mind at random. You see everything; their best moments, their worst, the times they’ve laughed and cried and screamed.

You can see the first time she chose you. She was smaller, much smaller than she is in the more recent memories, and her Dad seemed friendlier, then.

“Alright, honey. Which one d’ya want?” Joel asks, smiling as Sarah’s eyes scan shelf after shelf of Barbies.

“You should get this one,” he jokes, picking up a doll labelled ‘Builder Barbie’. “She’s just like your daddy!”

Sarah giggles, shaking her head and crossing her arms. “You’re not a builder, daddy! You’re a cont-ac-er.”

Joel’s heart warms, both at how much she loves his job and won’t accept a vague similarity, and her attempted pronunciation of the word ‘contractor’.

“Well then, which one, babygirl?”

She spends a few more moments looking at each option, before her eyes widen, landing on one a little further away to the left. She stands up on her tippy-toes, grabbing the doll and admiring it, giddy.

“This one, Daddy! I want this one!” She shows him the doll, waving it in his face but not letting him take it, protective already. It’s a Cowgirl Barbie, one clothed in denim and brown leather, with cliche cowboy boots and a hat.

“She’s just like you, Daddy.”

Joel pulls a face, looking back and forth between Sarah and the doll. “How in the hell is she like me?”

Sarah scowls, pointing to the cowboy hat and explaining, “she’s a cowgirl! And you’re a cowboy!”

“I ain’t no cowboy” Joel retorts, shaking his head and leading Sarah over to the cashier’s desk. “When have you ever seen me in one of them hats, huh?”

Sarah giggles, itching to take the doll out of the box, and Joel knows she’ll do it the second he’s paid. “Maybe you can borrow hers, daddy, and be a proper cowboy.”

He rolls his eyes, though the smile hasn’t fallen from his face for even a second. He pays, watching with joy as Sarah scrambles to rip open the plastic, finally pulling out the doll and hugging it the whole way home while making up stories of ranches and horses and pistol duels - she was certainly her father’s daughter.

“Barbie? You there?” Barbara pulls you out of your thoughts, staring at you as you finally turn to look at her.

“Sorry, I’m here. Just…”

“Keep getting memories, huh?”

You nod, looking out the plane window and into the skies. She still seems concerned, but lets it go, returning to her magazine and letting you be with your thoughts.

More memories swirl in your mind; you can see Sarah’s first days of middle school and high school, her most vulnerable moments of crying in her room and talking to you like you were the only one who’d listen, her relationship with her dad and how he’s become more and more distant over the years.

Sarah slams her bedroom door behind her, falling on the bed with a sigh. She sits back up, her eyes falling on the Cowgirl sat on the shelf across from her, growing dusty as she plays with it less and less.

She’s 14 now, too old for dolls really. And yet, that Barbie had been there with her through her toughest moments, and even now, it was comforting to have her there.

“Dad’s at work. Again.” She says, half to the doll, half to herself. “It sucks.”

She dives into her backpack, pulling out a small box and opening it up, the newly-polished watch inside glistening in the light from the window.

She takes it out, delicately, and turns it around to see the engraved lettering on the back.

‘No matter what, we have each other. I love you, Dad. From Sarah x’

She smiles, quickly placing the watch back in its box, not wanting to damage it before she could even give it to her Dad. “You think he’ll like it?” She asks the doll smiling at her from the shelf.

“I just… I just want him to know I love him. And that I know he doesn’t mean to be gone all the time.”

She stands, picking the doll up from the shelf and brushing the dust away, carefully readjusting her little hat and smiling at the piece of her childhood.

“I’ll give it to him tonight. If he ever comes home,” she sighs, lying down beside the Barbie and taking a nap, knowing she had a long wait ahead.

♡❀˖⁺. ༶ ⋆˙⊹❀♡

“Alright, here we are!” Barbara chimes, pulling up to the house you’d been looking for. 51 Mulberry Road.

“Are you nervous?”

“Hell yeah I’m nervous,” you quip, the fear plainly stated in your wide eyes. What if she doesn’t like you? What if you can’t help her feel less lonely? What if this just doesn’t work?

“Look, I’ve been there,” she replies, knowing exactly how you feel. “You’ve gotta remember that you’re her Barbie. You’re her friend, and she’s yours. It’s all gonna work out. My only advice? Don’t expect her to thank you for making everything amazing for women. Trust me, it does not end well.”

You giggle, remembering the story of when she first met Sasha, and hope Sarah won’t be quite as mean. You feel a little better, and thank Barbara for her support, grateful to have your friend back.

“Alright, I’m gonna go and get a coffee. If you need anything, call me, okay?” She hands you the little flip phone she bought, having shown you how to make texts and calls on it to her iPhone. You nod, thanking her again and stepping out of the car, the nerves building up as you hear her drive away and you’re left alone in front of the house.

You take a deep breath, your boots clicking on the path as you make your way up to the door, supported by a big wooden patio and a bench out front. It reminds you of home a little; your western-themed Dreamhouse, clad with old wooden floors and southern-style windows.

Before you can talk yourself out of it, you raise a hand and knock, waiting with baited breath before you hear footsteps on the other side and the door swings open.

And there she is. Sarah.

She’s a little older than she was in the most recent memories you saw, around 16 now. She’s tall, with a purple cardigan on and pretty blue jeans that you’re jealous of already. Her smile is bright, precious, and if you didn’t know better you’d think she was a Barbie herself.

“Can I help you?” She asks, looking you up and down with a slightly confused, but still polite expression.

You stall, the introduction you’d prepared completely forgotten, your mouth just opening and closing like a fish out of water. Sarah’s expression becomes one of concern more than anything, and she reaches out a soft hand to touch your arm, making you jump.

“Oh! I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to…” she pauses, looking you over again. “Sorry, do I… do I know you?”

You stumble again, trying to find the right words, and she must see how genuinely nervous you are because she searches behind you into the street, then pulls you inside and shuts the door. “Come on, you need something to drink.”

She leads you to the kitchen, a beautifully decorated but old fashioned room with porcelain tiles and wooden beams across the ceiling. You trace your fingers across the counter top, looking around in awe while Sarah pours you a glass of lemonade.

Your eyes fall to the corner of the room, where her school bag sits, and a familiar-looking cowboy hat pokes out. You walk towards it without thinking and pull out the doll, admiring the little plastic version of yourself.

“Oh, that’s - that’s not what it looks like. I’m not… I don’t play with dolls anymore, obviously, I just…”

Sarah’s voice trails off, and you assume she’s embarrassed, but when you turn to face her you realise it’s not that at all. She’s staring at you, then the doll, then back at you, with a cocktail of confusion and realisation on her face.

“You’re dressed… you look exactly like her. What -“ She’s cut off by the front door slamming shut, and a familiar voice shouting down the hall, “Sarah? I’m home.”

Her eyes widen, quickly looking for somewhere she to hide you, the stranger she’s invited in, panicking as her Dad’s footsteps get louder.

But it’s too late. Joel stands in the door frame, staring at you, then shooting Sarah a look that says, ‘the fuck is this?’

“Dad, I can explain-“ he cuts her off, staring you in the eye and taking a step towards you. He looks older than he did in your memories - not in the way that Sarah does, but in a tired way, like he’d worked a hundred years and counting. Grey curls wash over his head, matched by a silvery beard and sunken eyes, and for all the Kens you’ve known in your life, you don’t think you’ve met anyone as handsome as him.

“Who the fuck are you?” He asks - no, demands, one arm protectively stretched in Sarah’s direction.

“I- I’m- Barbie. I’m Barbie.” You stutter, clutching the doll a little tighter in your hand. Joel’s face scrunches angrily, and he looks at Sarah again, who just shrugs.

“You’re fuckin’ what?” He asks, clearly unimpressed.

You panic, holding up the doll to your face, showing him the obvious similarities between you. The same clothes, same hairstyle, same eyes.

“You know, Cowgirl Barbie. Sarah’s Barbie,” you explain, a little more confident now, hoping they’d accept your explanation.

Your hopes are quickly dashed as Joel asks Sarah, “do you know this clown?”

His arms are clenched, and you try not to worry about what’s coming next.

“No, Dad, but-“

He cuts her off. “So you just invited this crazy person into our home?”

He’s shouting now, and you recoil, remembering Barbara’s first experience meeting Sasha. You wonder if this is worse.

“Dad, don’t talk about her like that,” Sarah shouts back. It makes you feel at least a little better, but it’s too late. Joel’s incensed, shouting about stranger danger and how you’re probably an escapee from some mental asylum, how weird it is that you know what dolls she owns and how to dress like them.

“- and you” he looks directly at you now, pointing. “You get the hell out of my home and you don’t speak to my daughter ever again, you hear me?”

Tears stream down your face as you nod, throwing the doll onto the counter and running past Sarah and Joel and out of the house. You can barely make it out the front door, stumbling against the columns on the patio, before making it just far enough onto the grass outside to stumble to your knees and let yourself cry properly.

That same, overwhelming loneliness fills you again, tearing deep into your chest and only adding to your pain. Your shoulders shake, and you try to remind yourself of what they teach you at Barbieland; crying is good, hurting is good. It means you’re alive.

But it really doesn’t feel good right now.

You can hear the faint sound of the door opening and closing, but you don’t really register it, not until you feel a soft hand on your shoulder.

You look behind you, meeting Sarah’s apologetic eyes, and you try to wipe your own of their flood of tears.

“Oh no, I’m sorry, I must look horrible,” you laugh, though it’s forced.

Sarah smiles, sitting down in front of you, knees crossed. “I think you look beautiful.”

And that makes you really smile.

You giggle, pulling off your cowboy hat and setting it on the grass beside you. Your denim jacket feels a little hot now, too tight, but you try to ignore the feeling and focus on getting your breathing back to normal.

“Is it true? Are you really… her?”

Sarah’s question is soft, like she doesn’t know quite which answer she wants. You only nod, fiddling with your hands in your lap.

“You’re Barbie?” She asks again, and you can tell she’s expecting a reply this time.

“Cowgirl Barbie,” you answer, still only looking at your hands.

“God, you know, when Stereotypical Barbie came here, she had such a good time. Mind you, that was in LA, so -“

Sarah cuts you off with a gasp. “Wait, that was real? I heard about that! It was all over Twitter - Barbie and Ken on roller skates in LA, Barbie in a pink cowboy outfit-“

“Yes!” You exclaim, excited - “she told me all about it! She chose the cowboy outfit ‘cos it reminded her of me, you know. We’re best friends.”

You’re showing off a little now, but you don’t care - it feels good to talk, to be believed.

Sarah watches you in awe. “Wow. So this is, like, real. This is real? You’re Barbie. Where’s Ken?”

“Oh, he had to stay back at home. Well, he didn’t have to, he would’ve come if I asked him to. He’s really sweet. I just… I didn’t wanna be a burden.” You explain, grateful he hadn’t seen you crying like this now you think about it.

“But isn’t he, like, your boyfriend? I’m sure he wouldn't mind.” Sarah replies.

“Oh, he isn’t my boyfriend,” you giggle at the thought. “No, no, we don’t really do that in Barbieland. Everyone’s their own person and makes themselves happy, no need for boyfriends and girlfriends. Even the Kens!”

“Rad,” Sarah grins, liking the sound of Barbieland. “So… why are you here?”

You reply honestly, there’s no use in skirting around it anymore. “Well… I feel what you feel, Sarah. And when you’re sad, and lonely, I feel that too. That’s why I came, to help you feel better.”

“Oh.” It’s all she says.

“Why do you feel like that?” Your tears have stopped by now, your face left red and puffy. You try not to start up again as you watch her face twist at your question.

“Just… stuff. With my dad. He’s never here anymore, always at work. It used to be just me and him against the world, you know? And now it feels like… like it’s just me.”

You pout, rubbing a hand on her knee. “I’m sure he doesn’t mean it, Sarah. You always have each other, just like the watch says.”

You smile, trying to be as comforting as possible, but it’s quickly wiped away by the look of shock on her face.

You’re about to ask her what’s the matter when a southern drawl sounds from behind you, “how do you know that?”

You turn, facing Joel who stands on the steps of the porch, a hand on the railing. Your nerves set in again immediately, and you turn in on yourself, trying not to cry.

“Um, the watch, the one from Sarah. That’s what it says, right?” You can see that very watch strapped to Joel’s wrist, the glass broken, and he brings his other hand to touch it.

“No one else knows what’s written on that watch,” Sarah says, and you whip around to face her, “holy shit, this is really, really real, isn’t it? You’re her?”

You just nod, and she lets out a laugh, springing forward to hug you. You yelp in surprise but hug her back immediately, revelling in the feeling of wet grass hitting your back. Sarah pulls away, looking up at her Dad with pleading eyes, “come on Dad, you know this is real. She’s real. We have to let her stay.”

You sit up again, grabbing your hat and standing, facing Joel though your eyes stay trained on the floor. He’s silent for a long time, thinking, before he grunts and you can just about make out a whisper of “fine” as Sarah celebrates and leads you back into the house.

♡❀˖⁺. ༶ ⋆˙⊹❀♡

You stay there a few days, mostly keeping out of Joel’s way. They set you up in the spare bedroom, but Sarah comes to get you most nights, and you stay up together having sleepovers and telling stories.

You tell her all about Barbieland, about the beautiful beaches and all-woman Supreme Court, the Dreamhouses and the perfectly blue skies. She tells you about her life, the latest drama at school, about Brad the boy who won’t leave her alone and Jenny, her best friend who definitely fancies Brad. It’s incredibly exciting, and you wonder why you never left for the real world sooner.

Barbara’s ecstatic for you, of course; she’s staying in a nearby hotel for as long as you need her there, you even plan to introduce her to Sarah soon.

You wake up one morning, covered in a duvet somewhere in the corner of Sarah’s room, a host of her other old toys laid out where she’d been explaining each one to you last night. You wondered if there’s a Thomas The Tank Engine Land, too.

There are voices downstairs, and for all the rules of politeness and social expectations you’ve learned, you can’t help but tiptoe to the top of the landing and listen in to the conversation. To make sure Sarah’s okay, more than anything.

“Oh come on, Dad. It’s just one day!” Sarah almost shouts, though it’s obvious she’s trying to keep her voice down. They both are.

“Sarah, I gotta go to work. How the hell am I meant to keep a walking-talking Barbie doll entertained for 7 hours, huh? You want me to talk about makeup and glitter?” Joel’s voice is thick and annoyed, though he’s noticeably gentler when he talks to her.

Sarah scoffs, and you can’t see her, but you know she’s rolling her eyes. “She’s more than that, Dad. She’s smart, and she’s caring. Just - just do this for me, okay? And as soon as I’m back from school, I’ll take her off your hands.”

You can’t see them, but you hear their footsteps walk a little closer to the stairwell. “Fine, fine. Whatever. You better go and wake her up then, cos I gotta leave in 20,” Joel resigns.

You see the top of Sarah’s head from your view between the bannisters, and quickly hurry back to her room and under the sheets. She enters, sitting beside your spot on the floor and whispering, “Barbie? Hey Barbie, wake up!”

You feign tiredness, lifting your head and smiling at the girl. “Oh hey, Sarah, good morning.”

She giggles, and you’re quickly aware of your bedhead, something you never experienced in Barbieland. She talks as you grab a brush and fix yourself up.

“So look, I gotta go to school today. But my Dad agreed to take you with him to work so you’re not on your own… is that okay?”

She must see the slight panic in your eyes, as she quickly scrambles to reassure you.

“I know he was a bit of a hot head when you first met him, but he’s just… protective. But he’s sweet, really. Just give him a chance.”

You think about it for a moment. Barbara is still staying nearby, and you know she’d come and hang out with you while you wait for Sarah to come home if you asked. But then again, maybe it’d be good to spend some time with Joel/ It’s obvious that a lot of what brought you here comes down to their relationship, and if you can help to fix that even just a little bit, then your journey will have been worth it.

“Okay,” you answer, giving Sarah a small smile. She grins, standing up and grabbing her school bag before shouting over her shoulder as she leaves the room, “great! He’s going in 20 minutes… better get ready!”

You gasp, jumping up from your little nest on the floor and searching through the duffel bag Barbara packed for you of outfits to wear, all western-themed of course.

♡❀˖⁺. ༶ ⋆˙⊹❀♡

Car rides with Joel are… awkward, to say the least.

He drives in silence, no radio, just the slow drone of traffic outside echoing between you, whistling through the open windows.

His car is very different to the ones in Barbieland. It doesn’t have an open top, the seats are worn and rough to the touch. The smell of coffee and cigarettes hangs in the air, and though you’re not used to it, you still find it comforting. Safe.

You reach for the radio, looking for a tune to play and maybe even sing - you’re sure that’ll cheer him up. But he stops you, not hurting you at all but batting your hand away and finally taking his eyes off the road.

“Don’t touch that,” he grunts, and you shrink back in on yourself again. He recoils a little, like he’s trying to appear less aggressive, and refocuses on the road.

“Sorry,” you mutter, shy.

He shakes his head, resting his elbow on the window beside him and readjusting himself, clearly uncomfortable. Whether it’s you or just the way he’s sat, you don’t know.

“‘S fine,” he mutters, barely audible. You nod, unsure of what else to say after that. You’re not looking at him, though you can see his movements in the edge of your peripheral, and you’re certain you can see him glancing at you every couple of minutes.

He finally speaks again after a long span of silence.

“So…” he starts, tentative. “Is it hard to get here? From- from Barbieland?”

You turn, though he isn’t facing you, eyes trained on the road. You keep looking at him anyway - this is progress at least.

“It’s pretty simple. First you drive, then you cycle, then take a boat, then a rocketship, then you stay in a campervan for a little while, then a snowmobile and voila! You’re rollerskating into LA.” You grin, recounting your adventure into the real world, happy to be able to share it with him. You’re not sure what it is about him, but there’s just something inside of you that’s desperate for him to get you. To care.

Joel just grunts, rubbing his thumb and forefinger between his brows, and you’re worried for a second that he doesn’t believe you, again. But he doesn’t press, instead he seems to be thinking, and then he asks another question.

“How do you get back?”

“Gotta do all that in reverse,” you answer, giggling. You’re sure you can see the slightest pull of his lips, the hint of a smile, but it’s gone just as quickly as it appeared.

You decide to try and engage him, let him talk. “Do you like what you do? For work?”

He just grunts again, and your shoulders sink, giving up. He doesn’t want to talk to you.

You decide not to press him further, but you can see him continue to glance at you a few times out of the corner of your eye, and there must be something in the air because he sighs before talking, a vulnerability in his voice.

“I used to. My Dad did it, contracting. Used to take me and my brother out every weekend and show us the trade. And when I started my business, that was good. Things were good. Now…” he trails off with a sigh.

“Things aren’t good?” You ask, trying to be careful. Trying to encourage him.

He nods. “Things are different, now. Busy. It’s a hard business.”

You don’t reply, not because you don’t want to, but because you’re not sure how. Joel doesn’t seem to mind. After a few moments, he pulls up at a red light, switching gears and finally looking at you properly.

“What do you do? In Barbieland?”

“Cowgirl,” you reply, being the one to avoid his gaze now.

“Cowgirl?” He repeats, and you only nod, offering a small smile and waiting for his reaction.

“So is that, like, on a ranch?”

He’s switching gears again, cruising through the now green light and continuing the drive, muttering something about ‘almost there’ as you arrive in an upscale neighbourhood, lined with huge houses and cars that even the Barbies don’t have.

You shrug, self conscious, but you answer him. You owe him that. He did it for you.

“No, just… you know. I wear the hat, and the denim and the boots. And I just… cowgirl. That’s what I do.”

He nods, and for the first time since you met him, you’re not nervous about what he’ll say next. You feel comfortable with him, safe even, and you’re not sure what it is about this little drive that’s flipped that switch, but you think he might feel the same way.

“Does it pay well?” He asks, a playfulness in his tone that you haven’t seen in him before. It’s like he’s lit up over the course of your conversation.

You grin, meeting his eyes properly now, where he draws away for a moment at a time to check the road but lets his gaze fall back on you straight after.

“Better than contracting,” you sass. You’re not sure where the cockiness comes from, whether you’re matching his tone or you just feel that comfortable with him, and for a moment you’re worried you’ve offended him with the joke.

But then he laughs.

It’s not hysterics, but it isn’t an amused ‘huff’ either. It’s like a giggle, a bright, giddy laugh that spreads across his face and makes his eyes light up like stars in the sky. It’s beautiful. It’s sweet.

You tell him as much.

“You have a pretty smile.”

He slows a little, his mouth quickly reigning in its smile and his chest no longer bubbling with that sweetness it had before. But he doesn’t look angry, or offended. He looks as though he’s not quite sure what to do. Like no one’s ever told him that before.

“Thank you,” he whispers, the words quickly blowing away with the wind through the open window. You smile in reply, and he watches, neither of you seeming to notice that he’s stopped the car and you’ve reached your destination. Neither of you move.

And then he says the sweetest words you’ve ever heard.

“So do you.”

It’s gentle, mumbled so lowly you almost think he doesn’t want you to hear it, and yet it hits you in the chest like a lorry.

You’ve been told that before, of course you have. You’re a Barbie. Whether it’s the other Barbies complementing one another, or the Kens trying to flirt, or Allen just being the nice guy he is, you’ve heard those words before.

But you’ve never heard them like this, like they’re hard to say, but they need to be said anyway.

It’s powerful.

You smile again, so does he. You stay in the car a little while longer, in silence again, but it’s a silence laced with comfort and feelings you don’t know how to label. Until he finally breaks the spell, climbing out of the car and helping you out on your side.

He spends the day showing you his work, how to plan builds, how to measure up wood and mark all the right places to cut it. You learn there’s a key named after Allen, and Joel snorts when you tell him how excited you are to let him know that. He even lets you hammer a few nails, and you’d be lying if you said it didn’t make your heart flutter when he puts his arms around you to guide your movements, his breath in your ear.

And things are good after that day. Really good.

The three of you spend time together, as much as you can, almost like a family. You’ve never experienced family before, true family, but when you’re sat on the sofa with Sarah on a cushion on the floor and Joel to your side, just out of reach, you wonder if this is what it means to be home.

Of course, you quickly understand what Sarah means when she says she’s lonely. You know exactly where that feeling in your chest is coming from, because the times he’s with you are so fleeting, so far and few inbetween, that it feels like gold dust when you have him and like a black hole when you don’t.

And it’s only been a week before you realise just what it means, these feelings, and how they’re not like anything you’ve felt before.

Sarah reads you like a book, cornering you one day as you play dress up in her room.

“So, you like my Dad?” She asks, a knowing smirk already painted on her lips.

You splutter for a moment, trying to think of a rebuttal, but you give up because you know she has you nailed down. You know she knows.

“Is it that obvious?” You wince, making her grin spread even further.

“Only, like, all the time,” she laughs, and you flip down on the bed dramatically, making her laugh more. “You know he likes you too, right?”

You sit up again in a flash, eyes wide and searching hers. She raises a brow as you stare, your mind racing - she wouldn’t joke about that, would she? “How do you know?” You ask.

She rolls her eyes, taking a seat beside you on the bed. “Oh come on, man. It’s so obvious. He always talks about you, Barbie said this, Barbie did that’.” She mocks his deep southern drawl, making you giggle. “And he’s always looking at you.”

You blush - you’d be lying if you said you hadn’t noticed. You suppose a part of you just never let yourself believe he could feel the same way.

“What do you think I should do?” You’re nervous now, unsure of yourself. Unsure if this is real.

Sarah smiles, a cheeky sort of grin that doesn’t make you feel particularly at ease, and pats your knee with her hand. “Leave it with me.”

♡❀˖⁺. ༶ ⋆˙⊹❀♡

She calls you down that night, late, not long after Joel came home from work. You switch off the documentary you were watching, something about the animal kingdom, one that amazed you with all the creatures that walk the earth around you.

You tiptoe down the stairs, calling out Sarah’s name when you can’t find her in the front room, confused. You hear her again, distantly, like she’s outside, and you follow the sound through the kitchen and out the back door, where you’re greeted with the alluring smell of a sizzling barbecue.

“What is this?” You ask, stepping fully outside and taking in the scene. The backyard, usually overgrown and unkept, is littered with fairylights that wrap around the patio columns and line the fence right down to the end. The Miller’s barbecue is fired up, with an array of vegetable skewers and sausages and burgers cooking on top, Sarah proudly stood beside it in her apron while Joel watches, concerned.

Joel. He’s sat at the little table she’s put together, a round glass one with mismatched chairs on either side. He’s dressed up - his hair looks neater than usual, like he’s put extra care into styling it properly. His shirt isn’t plaid, or denim; it’s a light blue colour that matches the brown of his eyes so wonderfully. He looks nervous.

“Hi,” he says, gentle and soft. Your eyes must be wide and confused, because he doesn’t say anything else, just looks at Sarah for support. She rolls her eyes - again - and puts down the tongs she’d been using to flip the burgers.

“You two are so boring pining over each other. So, I’ve set up a date!” She grins, turning back to the food without a care in the world.

You nod, taking another step forward, looking back toward Joel and not bothering to fight the smile that spreads on your face.

He doesn’t fight his, either.

You reach out for the chair opposite him, but before you can, he’s standing up and pulling it out for you, his eyes meeting yours.

Not one of the Kens have ever pulled out a seat for you, you think, thanking Joel and sitting on the little chair. He returns to his own seat, clearing his throat and pouring you a drink; red wine, a new favourite of yours since he introduced you to it.

Sarah plates up the food, setting it down in front of you in a dramatic waiter-style fashion.

“You’re certainly my daughter, huh?” Joel asks, pride in his eyes as he looks at the food, which you have to admit looks pretty damn good.

“The student has become the master,” she quips, and your heart melts at the sweet moment between the two.

“Now, you two enjoy. I’ll be in my room. If you need anything… get it yourself. The kitchen is literally right there.”

You and Joel roll your eyes as Sarah bows out, laughing at her own jokes and giving a final wave as she heads into the house, leaving you both alone.

“So,” you begin, unsure of what to say.

“So.” Joel mimics, though you don’t think he plans to say anything after that. He’s not one to initiate conversation.

But then again, people can change.

“You look really nice,” he says, his eyes so heavy set on you that it makes you feel flush. You look down, at the old baggy top you’re wearing over grey sweats, and you’re suddenly self conscious compared to his nice shirt and carefully-put hair.

“I don’t,” you reply, embarrassed. “I look like a mess.”

He interjects immediately. “No. You don’t. How could you? I mean you’re literally - you’re -“ he can’t find his words.

You finish the sentence for him. “A Barbie.”

“Yeah.”

You’re not sure why it makes you feel the way that it does. Sad. Like you’re not quite real to him, a novelty. He sighs, and for all the time you’ve spent with him by now, you can’t read what’s going on behind the man’s eyes at all.

You sit in silence for a short while, enjoying Sarah’s food, drinking wine. There’s something hanging in the air, heavy and strange, and neither of you know how to address it.

It surprises you when Joel finally breaks the silence again. “Do you miss home?” He asks, pouring you another glass.

You think for a moment. You answer honestly. “I don’t know.” His eyebrow quirks, motioning for you to continue.

“There was a time when I’d have never even dreamed of leaving Barbieland. When I didn’t want anything to change. But things are different now, since Ster- since Barbara left. Everyone thinks differently, feels differently. It’s a very different place. And suddenly everything that made me love Barbieland doesn’t matter to me anymore. The perfect wardrobe, the perfect house, the perfect life. None of that matters. It’s the things here, in this world, that matter.”

“What things?” Joel asks, and it’s only now that you notice his hand has migrated across the table, holding your much smaller one. You wrap your fingers around his, revelling in the small squeeze he gives you, fighting back a smile.

You’re staring at your interlocked hands when you answer. “Family. Purpose.”

You look at him. “Love.”

He breathes out, like he’s letting something go, something that made him scared but doesn’t anymore. You squeeze his hand.

The rest of the night goes smoothly. It’s sweet, comfortable. It’s nice.

Until you put your foot in it.

“Do you still feel lonely?” Joel asks, the buzz of red wine making his drawl even heavier.

You smile, glossy eyes doting on him, hands still intertwined. “Well, I felt lonely because Sarah felt lonely. So… no. I feel good.”

Joel frowns, his head tilts. “Do you know why she felt like that?”

You’re not sure how to approach this with him. It’s something you’ve thought about, pondered for days, turned over and over in your mind with no good resolution.

You know exactly why she felt like that. She told you as much.

My Dad’s never here. He’s always away, working. I don’t see him.

But you also know it’s a truth he won’t accept. Not easily, at least.

“Well,” you begin, treading lightly. “I think she just… misses you, Joel. Misses her Dad.”

He’s confused. He pulls away from you, his grip on your hand loosens. “But I’m here.” It’s an assertion, challenging your suggestion.

“I know, I know. But you’re not… you’re not here. You come home from work late, you’re tired, you go to bed. You wake up and before we can even say ‘good morning’ you’re out the door again, going to work.”

His jaw flickers, in that same way it did when you first met. He’s angry.

“I do what i have to do to support my family,” he grumbles, fully retracting his hand now. You feel the loss of his touch instantly, in your heart.

That same loneliness sets in again, but it’s not Sarah’s anymore. No, it belongs solely, wholly, to you.

You try to placate him. “I know, Joel, I know. I get it. I just -”

“Just what?” He interrupts you, and you pause, scared to speak. Scared to mess this up.

“She needs you to talk to her. She needs you to listen to her. She needs you to hold her and let her know she’s not alone. She doesn’t see that right now, Joel.”

He doesn’t reply, just stares into space, arms folded. Guarded.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper.

“‘That how it works in Barbieland? Everyone gets what they want, everyone’s happy?” He asks, agitated.

You shake your head. “No, Joel, I-”

“‘Cos that’s not how the real world works, sweetheart. Everythin’ ain’t perfect. The trees ain’t made of cotton fuckin’ candy.” He sneers, mocking you, and the words pierce through you like knives.

“And I ain’t taking parenting advice from no Barbie doll.”

That really, really hurts.

And it makes you angry, because for all your faults and weaknesses, being a Barbie certainly isn’t one of them.

“Why are you being so defensive?” You ask, your tone rising to match his. “You know I'm right. All that girl wants is her Dad, not a stranger who’s barely there, not a ghost that puts food on the table but won’t even come home on time for her. She wants her Dad, Joel.”

He stands, slamming his palms on the glass with so much force you fear it’ll shatter. He doesn’t shout, but his words are sharp, pointed, and they land exactly where he intended them to.

“You have no idea what it’s like. You’re stuck in your fantasy world, where everything’s pink, but you haven’t got a clue what it’s like to live in the real world. So why don’t you head back to your special Barbieland and leave the actual living, the hard parts, to the rest of us, huh?”

Tears threaten to spill on your cheeks, your eyes burning from the strain of holding them back. “Joel, you don’t mean that-”

“Yes, I do. Just… just get out of my house.”

He walks away from the table, crossing his arms and facing away from you, staring out into the night. You nod, to yourself if no one else, breaking your strength as a sob racks through your body. You clasp a shaking hand to your mouth, not wanting him to hear you, but you see the way his shoulders clench. He heard.

He doesn’t react further, though. Doesn’t turn. Doesn’t make sure you’re okay.

So you do what he said. You leave.

You stalk past Sarah, wiping away the onslaught of tears that have taken hold now, ignoring her as she shouts between you and Joel. “Guys? What’s going on?”

She doesn't follow you upstairs, choosing to give you space and speak to her Dad instead, you think. You text Barbara, asking her to pick you up, and shove your clothes into your bag as quickly as you can in spite of your blurred vision and the messy hair that covers your face.

You’re not sure how long it’s been, you’d have only thought seconds if you didn’t know Barbara’s hotel was at least 10 minutes away, but you hear her beep the horn from outside and follows its direction.

Sarah’s waiting for you at the bottom of the stairs. You look down the hall, where Joel sits at the kitchen counter, arms still folded and head down.

“Please,” Sarah begs, “don’t go.” She’s crying, and it makes your heart hurt more.

“I have to.”

You try to move past her, but she stops you, blocking the way with her body. “Sarah, I have to,” you repeat, choking on your own sobs.

“Why?” She shouts, hot tears staining her face. “My Dad told me what happened. You’re right. He’s wrong, he’s always wrong. He’s never here, but you are, and now you’re leaving me like everyone else. Like my Mom.”

Your nose scrunches. More tears fall. Your chest hurts. “I’m not your Mom, Sarah. And your Dad… he loves you. He loves you so much. Promise me you’ll remember that, okay? He loves you. I love you.”

She doesn’t stop you when you try to leave again. You all but run out the door, the once comfortable night air now painful as it hits your wet cheeks, ice cold. Barbara looks at you with more concern than you’ve seen her with before, more than when she discovered the Mojo Dojo Casa Houses, but you say nothing as you get in the car. You just stare straight ahead, and she drives.

♡❀˖⁺. ༶ ⋆˙⊹❀♡

“I’m so sorry, Barbie. I never thought it’d end like this.”

Barbara’s holding your hands, reluctant to let go. You don’t know when you’ll see her again. “It’s not your fault,” you reply, and it’s true. It’s not her fault. It’s yours.

“And it isn’t yours, Barbie,” she retorts, like she can read your mind. You just nod, unconvincing, but she doesn’t push it.

You hug her, for the millionth time since she took you home from Joel and Sarah’s house, since she flew back to LA with you. And now here you are, at Venice Beach with your roller skates on, going back to the place you’ve always called home.

So why does it feel like you’re going anywhere but?

“Thank you for everything, Barbara. I mean it.” You pull back, wiping a tear from her cheek and smiling the best you can, your own tears rolling down your face like the skaters behind you.

She smiles back, and though she doesn’t say anything, she doesn’t need to. You know she loves you. You know she’ll miss you.

And with that, you pull away, pushing on each skate until you’re rolling away from the real world and back into your own. Back where you belong, where you’re supposed to be. Where you’re actually wanted.

There are people pointing, laughing at you as you skate past them, but you don’t care. You haven’t cared about anything since last night.

You can see the snowscape ahead, the next part of your journey. Your next step towards Barbieland and a world of pink perfection.

A world that isn’t the same to you now.

You’re nearly there, about to switch skates for the snowmobile, when a familiar, desperate voice comes from behind you.

“Barbie! Barbie, wait!”

You brake, skates screeching on the ground, as you turn to search for him in the crowd.

And there he is, Joel, clinging to a ramp on the left side of the park with the most ridiculous pair of neon green roller skates you’ve ever seen.

“Joel?” You call, immediately rolling over to him when you realise how much he’s struggling. If you weren’t so filled with the joy of seeing him here, you’d laugh at the state he’s in; eyes wide and legs falling beneath him, clearly not used to roller skating. “What are you doing here?”

“I- I wanted to- jesus, if I could just stand up-” You giggle, and he shoots you a look, which just makes you laugh harder. You help him up, laying a gentle hand on his chest as he nearly falls again, your other hand clinging to his waist as he finally finds his balance.

He’s blushing, embarrassed, but there’s something else in his eyes as they finally settle on you and he sighs. “Barbie, I’m so sorry.”

You’re not sure where to look. At him, at your hands, at those ridiculous roller skates he’s wearing. Of course, you can’t pull your eyes from him, anyway.

“It’s - it’s okay. You were right anyway, I’m not-”

“No, no,” he interrupts, placing both hands on your cheeks and quickly stumbling as he loses his balance again without the support of the rail. You hold him, giggling as he almost brings you both down, though you manage to keep him upright and he laughs right there with you.

“Jesus, this is embarrassing,” he finally huffs, and your head falls against his chest. When you raise it again, he’s already looking at you, with those big brown eyes that you never want to forget.

“I wasn’t right. I was an asshole. A huge, insecure asshole.” You try to shake your head, to disagree, but he doesn’t let you. “Just let me say this,” he begs. You let him.

“You were right. I haven’t been there for her. I haven’t been the Dad she needs me to be. I’m just… I’m just scared. Of not being good enough. Of letting her down. So I work, and come home late, and leave early, and I convince myself it’s the right thing to do. But I’m hurting her. And I hurt you.”

There’s pain in his eyes, and it pains you as if they were your own.

“I haven’t seen Sarah this happy in a long time,” he continues, resting a hand on your cheek again, carefully this time. “Barbie, I haven’t been this happy in a long time.”

You don’t know what to say. You take your hand from his waist, tentative, making sure the other one is stable on his chest. You place it over his where it rests on your cheek, folding your fingers around his own, and turning to press a gentle kiss into his palm. He mumbles something, you don’t hear what, but from the look in his eyes you think you know.

“Don’t go,” he begs. “Don’t - don’t go back there. I want you here. You belong here.”

You look into his eyes. You know he means it.

And so you do the only thing that makes any sense in this moment.

You kiss him.

You’re careful to keep him upright, but he seems to have stopped caring about that; instead both hands are on you again, frantic, holding you tight like he never wants to lose you again.

When you finally break the kiss, neither of you pull away from one another, your foreheads connected and breaths intertwined.

“Okay,” you gasp, pulling on his shirt. “Okay. I’ll stay.”

Joel closes his eyes again, sighing in relief as you finally release your other hand, touching it to his neck and feeling the rapid pulse that beats against it. You’re holding one another so closely, so tightly, that there’s no way he can fall now.

“You’ll come back to Texas?” He asks, like he still doesn’t quite believe you.

You nod again, giggling at the joy that spreads on his face, though it’s quickly muffled when he kisses you again. And again, and again and again until you’re breathless and sweaty and no longer sure which of you needs help staying upright the most.

You help him turn, wrapping your arms around his waist and supporting him as you try to make your way back across the park, and only then do you see Barbara and Sarah stood to the sidelines, watching, smiling.

You realise Sarah has her phone out, pointed at her Dad, and you’re pretty sure Joel sees it too but before he can say anything, he slips again and falls flat on his bum on the floor, bringing you right down with him.

You gasp, cushioned by his chest and his protective arms around you, laughing hysterically as he groans and sits up. You watch as his face turns from pain into anger, his eyes fixated on something ahead, and you think you know what it is-

“Sarah! Delete that video right now!”

♡❀˖⁺. ༶ ⋆˙⊹❀♡

Tag list: @vickie5446 @skysmiller @none-of-this-makes-any-sense @letmehavemyfictionalmen

#joel miller x reader #joel miller fic #joel miller fluff #joel miller x yn #joel miller x you #joel miller x y/n #joel miller fanfic #joel miller x barbie!reader #poeticbarnes writes #joel miller fanfiction #tlou fic #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us fic #barbie #barbie movie

1K notes · View notes

rinhaler · 11 months

Text

You Deserve Roses and You Know This

✧˖*°࿐ : 18+ only, no minors. ✧. ┊ ex!Toji Fushiguro x f!reader

Genre: Smut & Angst Notes: reposting from my old account! Warnings: 18+, dubcon, vaginal sex, fingering, oral (f receiving), nipple play, dacryphilia, pregnancy, abortion ideation, miscarriage, depression, adultery, breeding, creampie ♡, smoking mention. Words: 4.1k

“Is it true? Did talking to Megumi make you cry today?” Toji asks you, peeling down your bra strap before sensually decorating your exposed shoulder in delicate kisses.

He didn’t notice, but as soon as the question left his tongue you had instinctively become dead behind the eyes. It was true. You’re an adult, and yet you were brought to tears by his seven-year-old son. It wasn’t that he said anything callous, quite the opposite, really. Earlier that day, Megumi had been sitting playing in your front room. You were babysitting, as you often did, while Toji and his wife were working. Your eyes hold shut as you remember his wife; his beautiful and kind wife while he continues littering your skin in adoration. You shouldn’t be doing this, but you can’t stop now.

Green sparkling eyes looked up from innocent children’s toys to pose you a question – “Why do you hate me?” he asked, genuinely. It was like a knife through your chest. You didn’t hate him. You could never hate him, Toji being partly responsible for his existence is enough reason to adore him with everything you have.

You just wish he was yours.

Toji is patient when he gets his time with you. It’s rare, after all, and he wants to make the most of it. Two large palms settle on your breasts, the straps are down but your bra is still firmly in place. He massages your flesh over the material, lips traversing the expanse of your body until he reaches your pulse point. He licks, slowly, hot eager breath contrasting your own temperature and making you shudder. This, he notices, pulling your back even closer into his chest. His left hand slowly yet forcefully moves up and down your adjacent arm, desperate to dispel the goosebumps that have formed on your skin. He suckles and licks on your ear lobe before nibbling it softly between his teeth. His breathing changes, his mouth level with your ear, he’s going to speak.

“Baby… what were you talking about?” he sighs, an even more chill inducing breath warms the shell of your ear. He pecks against it, the sound of tactile lips puckering slithers directly through your ear canal. You moan, unintentionally, and back further into your temporary lover. He holds your breasts once more; stabilising you, if only a little, as you begin to grind your core against his crotch.

“I- I can’t, Toji—”

Your attention is fixated on him as his hand encases half of your face and turns you to face him. But you both find yourselves closing your eyes as he places a kiss against your lips. It’s slow, yet heated, and you feel him smile into you when he hears you moan into his mouth pathetically. You’re well and truly at his mercy, though you aren’t embarrassed. How else should one act and behave around the love of their life?

“You can and you will,” he explains, biting your lip as he parts from the kiss. A singular string of saliva keeps you connected for a second before snapping. “you can’t have secrets with my son darlin’, you just can’t. So tell me, what were you talkin’ to him about?”

You gulp, nerves overcoming you like never before. Your eyes flutter shut yet again as he diverts his attention from your eyes to your body. The skin behind your ear is the next subject of his eroticism. And yet, he has the gall to chastise you for enjoying it. With one more repetition of tell me you realise you can’t stall anymore. Out of options. And you can’t lie.

“R-Rocco, ah—!”

“How does Megumi know about Rocco?”

“I- I told… him…”

He hikes your leg up so that you’re sitting on his lap like a little girl. The kissing has stopped and the touches have halted. Toji isn’t patient except with you. He’s never looked as furious as he does now, with you. Brows scrunched and the glimmer in his eye you love so much has ceased to exist. His scar looks as raw as it did the day he got it. A non-existent armour made you believe he wouldn’t mind you talking to his son about such a sensitive subject matter, but apparently it is not to be discussed under any terms.

“Don’t you ever talk to my son about Rocco again. D’ya hear me? Never.” he forbids, his eyes seem to soften ever so slightly when he spots that you can’t prevent the way your lip begins to wobble. “If you really wanna talk about Rocco, talk to me. Yeah? No one else, just me.”

“Y-You don’t let me—” you start, your thought isn’t completed. Thoughts are rattled from your mind as he begins manoeuvring you so that your back is flat against the mattress, jade green eyes boring into your very soul as he hovers above you. His arms dip behind your back, finally unhooking your bra and baring your chest to him.

Beautiful, he thinks.

“I’m letting you now.” he explains, his head resting on your chest, looking up with intent behind his salacious stare. He latches onto one of your protruding nipples, taking it between his cracked lips. He sucks and pecks, and it’s almost lazy, but you know it’s with purpose. It’s driving you wild, you can’t help but wriggle helplessly beneath him, desperate to gain some relief on your eager heat.

He pins one of your legs down, stopping you from continuing your movements. It’s torture, you think, he’s expecting you to broach such a heavy subject matter while you’re so desperate for his touch.

“C’mon sweetheart… talk about Rocco,” he commands. You can’t. Tears stream down your face as you do your best to experience Toji whilst thinking back to the past. Your mind spins and you feel as if you can’t breathe. He releases your nipple with an accentuated pop as he smirks up at you. “I remember how scared you were to tell me… when you realised—”

“Fuck, Toji.” you croon, a mischievous finger slithered down your abdomen down the length of your clothed slit. Feather light touches against your clit and your entrance forced your hips to buck upwards carelessly. He snickered, repeating the action again and again. “I- I remember.” you stutter.

You’d only been dating for thirteen weeks. He was yours before his wife entered the fray, before you had to battle for his time and attention. Nerves got the better of you, the thought of admitting to yourself what you already knew made you nauseous beyond any description.

Your period was late.

It was something you didn’t want to acknowledge, let alone inform Toji of. It had been so little time since you began dating. You thought he’d leave you, run away and never look back. So, there was only one thing for it. An abortion. You couldn’t keep the baby if you wanted to keep him. It was your only option. You were stressed, manic, exhausted. But at least you’d have Toji – that was all you cared about.

“You were so scared to tell me, weren’t ya?” he asks, hooking a finger beneath your panties before settling it in your inner thigh crease. He plunges a finger inside of you, chuckling when more obscenities fly from your mouth as your head falls backwards into the plush pillows. One of your hand grips the sheets below, whilst your other almost tears his hair from the roots. So little attention, and yet such a big reaction from you. “Thought so little of me, baby, ‘m sorry.” he finishes, adding a second finger to your scorching heat. It's almost as if the air in your lungs has frozen, weighing you down. It’s preventing you from speaking. From breathing. Even thinking.

It was confirmed when you finally took the plunge and decided to do a pregnancy test. Big, black, bold text told you the answer and where your future was heading. Motherhood, for certain. But you knew you had to take care of it before Toji became suspicious. It was something you didn’t even want him to know you were going through. Everything with him was perfect, it wasn’t something you wanted to ruin over something you believed could be easily taken care of.

So… why were you crying every day?

That’s what he asked you. You hadn’t been yourself, and that is what gave you away. Jokes he told that you found funny didn’t seem so funny anymore. The way he traced his fingers up and down your arms made you defensive, and paranoid. You didn’t want him to touch you in case he somehow sensed it in his fingertips. If he felt you he might just know that you’re carrying his child and he’ll skip out on you.

It all came to a head one day after you finished throwing up. You couldn’t keep your cries silent. Your body was betraying you, you felt hurt in ways you never had before and it was becoming impossible to keep it all to yourself. You didn’t dare tell a soul for fear of Toji finding out through the grapevine. But enough was enough, he thought.

“You need to tell me what’s going on with you.” he told you, but you shook your head.

“I can’t Toji, please. Trust me, I can’t.” you explained, “It’s fine… I will ruin everything if I tell you so… so I’m… I’m taking care of it—”

“Cut that shit out right now. This has been going on a fuckin’ while and I can’t stand to see you like this,” he responded, moving his head as you moved yours. You were trying to avoid his piercing glare, but he wouldn’t let you. He couldn’t. He’d never of forgiven himself if you carried on like that, unable to share your woes, and did something you might regret. “Trust me, I’m beggin’ you to trust me, baby.”

He forced you to sit down, and face him. He wiped away your tears with his thumbs and kept all of his attention focused on you as he watched you calm yourself down. Tear filled breaths that clogged your lungs fizzled into shaky exhales the longer you held eye contact with Toji. He wasn’t going anywhere, for now. If you explain you can tell him your plans. Maybe he’d support you if he knew you planned on freeing you both of the burden of parenthood, you hoped.

“I… I’m, uh—”

“Yeah? C’mon sweetheart, doin’ so good f’me just use your words.” he spoke, doing his best to tempt the truth out of you. With one final swallow of terror and closing your eyes for a moment to think, you finally found the courage to confess.

“I’m pregnant,” you blurted out quickly. “but it’s okay I’m gonna get rid of it. Okay?” you fumbled out words quicker than you could think. You just wanted him to know that there was no way you’d be keeping the baby. He was what you needed, not a kid. “Please, I promise I’m going to get rid of it, this is why I didn’t want to tell you. D-Don’t leave me, p-please. You are more important to me than a baby, I just want you. I—”

Your rambling was stifled as Toji pressed a finger to your lips. He kissed you on your forehead, a warm smile filled his features. Instantly, you were relived. It meant that your idea of an abortion was enough to convince him to stand by you. There was no reason to worry yourself sick like that, he was going to support you through it all.

“You don’t have to get rid of our baby,” he smiled.

“W-What?”

“In fact, I don’t want you to do that at all.” he warmly spoke, pulling your body into his and forcing his head between the valley of your breasts. It wasn’t sexual, it was just a comfort to him to hear your heartbeat. “Maybe… we could start our own little family, huh?”

Tears roll down your eyes as you reminisce on it all whilst Toji adds his flat tongue to the equation of his fingers in your cunt. It’s all so romantic and wonderful and intense. You don’t think you’ve ever been happier than you were in that moment. The moment you knew he really would stand by you through anything at all. And despite your assumption, he was excited to become a father. He was excited to have a baby with you.

“I love you, Toji.” you speak, softly, unsure if it was even loud enough for him to hear. Oh, but he did. He doesn’t want to stop lapping at your swollen clit, knowing it’s exactly where you need the most attention right now. But a particularly harsh suckle and pop of the bead is a silent acknowledgement, he promises he heard you. “Gonna… gonna cum. T-Toji—”

“No no, baby, not yet,” he instructs. He removes his fingers from your hole, delicately rubbing them over your sensitive bundle of nerves instead. It’s slow and tormenting, but he doesn’t want you to cum like this. “I was so happy when we found out we were havin’ a little boy, y’know? So damn happy princess.”

You remember it well. Your emotions were running high and you had the ability to blame your hormones when you discovered the gender of your unborn child. But you couldn’t quite believe it when you looked over to see Toji’s eyes, eyes that are normally so strict and stern, glossy with tears on his lash line. He couldn’t help it, he claimed.

“Look what we made.” he pointed, the scan revealing perfectly what a handsome little boy you’d made together.

And later that day, he took you shopping. Money was no object. That is what you both decided. Neither of you could believe how much stuff you ended up buying. Paints for the nursery. A crib. Other necessary pieces of furniture. Toys. Clothes. Everything you thought you needed, you bought. You were both first time parents and completely clueless. So, if a shop assistant recommended it, you bought it.

You spent so much time together painting the walls of your baby’s new room. Toji was very irritable when you kept asking what to do and how to help. The paint wasn't going on as nicely as he hoped and his temper flared, it was extremely evident in his face. What do you do when you see an angry bear? Poke it with a stick. Or in this case, flick paint from the end of your brush at him. When he noticed what you had done and he turned to face you, you swear you could read murder on his mind. But when you began to laugh, he couldn’t help the laugh that snuck out of him.

There was more paint on the two of you than on the walls by the end of it.

“That was the day we decided to call him Rocco…” Toji mused.

He began to kiss up towards your naval and back to your neck. Your fingers laced through his hair as you begged for him to deliver the same salvation he was offering your body to your lips as well. He complied, slow patience had dwindled as your tongues found each other. It was wet, heated, sloppy. You felt yourself drooling out of the corners of your mouth, Toji Fushiguro is just so intoxicating. A drug you can’t quit though you know you should.

He’s all you have.

He doesn’t break the kiss from you, though his hand eventually meets his heavy, wanting cock. He guides it to your desperate entrance, lining it up perfectly before slotting himself inside. His hips roll, bullying his cock into you inch by agonising inch until your lip begins to quiver. He hushes you, though.

You both know you want it.

“I’m s-so – fuck – I’m so sorry, baby. I am so—”

“P-Please, pleaaaase stop.” you beg. He doesn’t. You are the one who wanted to talk about it. So desperate to talk about it that you went to a seven-year-old boy to discuss it. His son. “N-No more, I can’t—”

“It was the worst day of my life, too, I promise you that darlin’.” he mumbles in your ear. The thrum of his words rushes straight to your cunt, and you clench so hard around his cock you think he might have to stay there forever.

You don’t think you’ve ever been as embarrassed as you were when you came home from the hospital. Your pristine white maxi dress, stained in bright red blood by your crotch. The atmosphere in your house was foul. Two solemn adults who had lost everything in a few menial hours. Hollowness filled you, not a single emotion ran through you until you heard Toji a few rooms away. You sat on the sofa, turned on the TV and pretended it wasn’t happening. But you could hear Toji loud and clear.

He was in the nursery.

That was the first and only time you’ve ever heard him cry. A loud thud vibrated through you and you knew he had collapsed to the ground. Melancholy overtook him as his new reality was setting in. Your little boy was no more. No fault of your own, apparently, everyone made sure to repeat that enough times for it to really take root in the depths of your brain.

It didn’t help at all.

You couldn’t bring yourself to check on Toji. That would mean going into Rocco’s room and facing the truth yourself. So, you waited. You waited hours for him to finally come out. He came to see you, resting on the balls of his feet in front of the sofa where you sat. Fresh tears replaced old ones as he noticed the drying blood on your dress.

“H-How about a bath, huh?” he suggested.

You don’t remember saying yes, or nodding. But somehow, you found yourself naked and submerged in a bubble bath. It was like you had left your own body as he did his best to clean you. You could hear him sniffling. He was desperate to talk about it with you, all he wanted was for you to help each other cope. But you couldn’t. So, he did his best to lock it away too.

It was as if you had returned to yourself when Toji took a break from washing your hair to wipe more tears from his eyes. A soft mumbling of ‘Oh, Godddddd…’ trailed from his lips as he tried to pull himself together. And finally, your lip began to jut out helplessly. Your eyes scrunched, and the tears began to flow. You were staring at your bloody dress, and listening to him try and hold it together. It was all equating to too much.

It was real, now.

“Our… baby—” you cut yourself off with a wail, Toji pulled you into his hold and sobbed into your sodden locks.

He hissed with each thrust inside of your gummy walls. A perfect home for him in the form of your bodies fitting together like perfect puzzle pieces. He doesn’t feel like this with his wife, only you. He couldn’t stay away, he’d never be able to do that.

He loves you.

Fuck, he loves you.

“’m not good enough… I’ve never been—”

“Stop it, baby. You are enough, I promise.” he tells you through gritted teeth. It’s getting harder and harder to have a normal conversation while he is fucking you so intimately. Every ounce of his love poured into every devastating thrust.

He loves you.

“Wasn’t good enough for you, or our- our baby.”

“Stop it darlin’. Please stop. I- I need—”

“I can’t live like this-!” you cry out. His hand covers your mouth entirely as his mind tries to process what he needs to say to you. Christ. What does he need to say to you? Everything and nothing all at once. He thinks he should start with I love you. But is he prepared to open that can of worms?

“I need… you. I’m gonna leave her, yeah? My wife. Let’s… try again. Me and you, hah? I won’t pull out this time, let me… let me—”

“Tojiiiii—”

“You’re good enough, baby, more than good enough. I’ll cum inside and we can try again. I need to, I need to.”

Your tears stream endlessly but silently. Is this really what you want? Do you want him to break up his family to satiate your unfulfilled desires? It doesn’t matter. You find yourself nodding anyway. Perhaps it will dull the ache inside of you. It could be the plaster to cover to puncture wound in your aching heart; it’s been bleeding since that day.

Toes begin to curl as he continuously batters the spongy centre that spells your eventual undoing with his fat cock head. He isn’t doing much better. Nobody and nothing will compare to the rush and the high he feels as when your precious cunt swallows him again and again.

“Gonna- cum, with me. Please, baby. Cum with me now.” Toji pants.

Your lips are on his again, both of you focusing on your impending climaxes. The way you break away to moan momentarily before smothering each other in kisses yet again is such a lewd, romantic, high that you can’t get enough of. He pounds you perfectly and it’s an arrangement neither of you have been able to let go of after all of these years.

“Oh God, I’m cumming- cumming baby…” he alerts you. You’re practically choking on your own orgasm as it swims through you. Nails dig into his back as you try and hold onto the feeling for as long as you can. He fills you with his warmth, heaving like a desperate animal while he breeds you to the brim.

What have you done?

Time wasn’t a healer for either of you. The days got harder and harder and you couldn’t even stomach looking at him. Each time you looked at him, you saw what could have been. What should have been. The father of your son. The man who was going to teach him everything he knew and help your little boy cause all kinds of mischief for you.

The man you thought could keep you both safe.

That’s how he found himself married to a woman he would never love as much as he loved you. There was a drift, it was aggressive and painful, yet necessary. But you found yourself brought back together a few years after Megumi was born. You were practically an aunt to his son. A second mother, even. A sordid little secret.

You don’t hate Megumi, you just wish he was yours.

The pair of you got changed after he had his post fuck cigarette, knowing you couldn’t risk dallying for fear of being caught. You didn’t doubt for a minute that if you called him in a few weeks and told him you were carrying his child, he’d kidnap Megumi and run away with you to start your new family life together. And you would love that, you’d love him. You’d love it all.

But, it isn’t right. Is it?

He grabs his car keys, readying himself to drive you home to be alone with your dark thoughts. Before you step outside, though, something plagues your mind. A question that you simply must know the answer to. He looks scared, honestly. The way you’re facing him and eyeing him up as the same words twist and circle through your mind. A heavy hand rests on your waist, the other on your cheek. He’s scared, it’s obvious, but he’s still encouraging you to talk.

“Do you ever think about Rocco?” you ask him, genuinely curious. Toji has never felt the need to bring him up, this is the first you’ve discussed him in years. It kills you to think that Toji has managed to shut out thoughts of his unborn son while you are plagued with them each and every waking moment of your pointless life.

And there it is. That warm, kind smile, that is the Toji you know and love.

“All of the time.”

Four simple words have you breaking down like you did that day in the bathtub. Your head is pulled into his chest as he holds you close and tightly, allowing you to bawl every emotion onto him. You can’t control yourself and you don’t want to stop. It’s fine, he thinks. It’s clear that you need it. At least you know something today that you didn’t know yesterday. One piece of information that might take some of the burden off your own shoulders.

At least you know you aren’t alone.

this is a repost from my old account

804 notes · View notes

jeonginsleftcheek · 6 days

Text

The sun to me

Chapter II. Water drop.

pairing: hwang hyunjin x afab!reader

word count: 5.1k

chapter summary: you could say that destiny always has a way of bringing together the souls that need each other. hyunjin meets not one but two people who will change his life for good.

warnings: tw for brief and vague mention of depression and suicide

~ Masterlist for the series

~ next part

🤍 Snowdrop - hope and the ability to overcome challenges.

Deep breath in.

Hyunjin feels like his lungs are expanding, like a flower opening up its petals to receive the warmth of the sun.

It takes him a few seconds to even register the sounds of people who were aboard the ship with him, laughing, talking, walking further away from the pier.

Someone walks towards him and for a brief moment his chest constricts as he waits to be questioned, bothered and ogled at but the man passes him by, saying hello to one of the crew members.

Hyunjin exhales and starts walking towards the road, he needs to track down the location of the room he barely managed to find on the internet.

It was a hassle, getting to the owner of the little apartment, since it wasn't summer yet and the tourists haven't even started arriving. Not that many people even come to this island, which is exactly why Hyunjin chose to hide away on it.

He knows, hopes, no one here has heard about him. He hopes he can just be a regular guy and go about his day, reset his body and his mind.

Fishing out his phone out of his pocket as he stops walking, he frowns immediately upon seeing it blowing up with messages.

Good thing he put it on silent or he might've just let his intrusive thoughts win and chucked the godforsaken device right into the sea.

Hyunjin ignores all the little bubbles and notifications, opting to just find the address on google again.

The island is so small, so unknown, so irrelevant that even after finding the address information, it seems that gps has trouble finding him on the map.

It's like he literally fell off the face of Earth and for some reason, that brings him relief.

He stuffs his phone back in his pocket, he's gonna have to find someone to ask for directions.

He looks around, noticing everyone cleared away from the pier so he just follows the first street down.

It's eerily quiet, even on such a sunny, lively day, the sound of his suitcase being dragged breaking the beautiful peace of the island. All the houses are adorned with flower pots on their windows and balconies, colorful gardens inviting you in, mesmerizing like a flower is to a bee.

Hyunjin hopes he can find some kind of shop or cafe or anything with people in it, but all he comes across are a few cats sitting on a low roof and staring at him menacingly, as if asking 'what the hell are you doing here'.

He sighs in frustration, thinking he'll actually have to knock on someone's door and disturb their Friday afternoon peace.

Just when he's mentally prepared himself to knock on a stranger's door and potentially have them yell at him, his eyes light up.

There, on the corner, is a little flower shop like an oasis in a desert, promising safety and aid. Hyunjin speeds up towards it, the suitcase almost flipping behind him as it bumps against the uneven and cracked sidewalk.

It's time for your lunch break, the old clock on the wall reminds you together with your stomach, growling embarassingly loudly.

You're behind the counter, about to grab your bag and keys, when you hear footsteps approaching and the sound of suitcase wheels scraping against the stones before they come to a stop in front of the door.

"Um, hello?"- you hear a pleasant and curious voice ring out from the outside, you almost want to curse the person out because everyone on the island knows when lunch breaks happen, but judging by the suitcase and the unknown voice it must be someone who just arrived here for the first time.

"Hello, come in!"- you sense the apprehension and you walk around the counter, coming face to face with what you would describe as a man made of dreams.

Your breath gets stuck in your throat, and his reaction seems to be similar, as his eyes widen slowly to the point where he almost looks completely bamboozled as his lips part and he just stares.

Quickly shaking it off and putting on your customer service persona, you smile at the stranger.

"How can I help you?"- you ask and he swallows, closing his lips as he seems to snap out of whatever trance he fell in.

"I- um- I'm looking for this address. I booked a room here, but I can't seem to find it on google maps."- the stranger pulls his phone out and shows you the address and you nod.

"Oh, at Isaac's. It's not too far away from here, just keep going straight until you see a blue house, then go right and up the hill a little bit, you can't miss it since it's the biggest house on that street."- you explain.

"Oh, thank you! I thought I was gonna get lost."- he smiles a little and you chuckle, shaking your head. This seems to deepen the redness of the young man's cheeks.

"You can't get lost here. The island is so small, you can circle around it three times in one day and still have some daylight left. Plus, most of the time the internet doesn't even work so you can't rely on gps. If you need to make calls or such, you'd best stand on the pier and try to catch the signal."

"Oh, thank you for the tips. I'm actually relieved that there's no internet."- the man says, running a hand through his dark hair.

You quirk an eyebrow at him, your eyes running over his frame.

"That's a first. People usually complain about that."- you say, as you take in his expensive looking jewelry, the branded shirt hugging his lean but toned frame, jeans also probably more expensive than your entire wardrobe and the fancy sneakers on his feet.

"Then they've probably come to the wrong place."- he concludes with a small smile.

"Probably."- you agree, ready to end the chat even though literal eye candy was standing in front of you, you craved a warm meal more than anything else.

There was a moment of awkward silence as the handsome stranger sucked his bottom lip between his teeth, bringing your attention to it.

"Well, it's my lunch break, so... If I can't assist you with buying some flowers, I'd like to close up shop."- you say as politely as you can.

"Oh! Sure, sorry for taking up your time."- he looks apologetic as you round your counter to grab your things.

"It's okay, glad I could help."- you smile as the both of you make your way towards the exit.

"I'm Hyunjin, by the way."- he reaches his hand towards you just as you close the door.

"Y/n."- your hand slots into his and he shakes it, soft but firm.

"Nice to meet you, y/n."- something about the way your name rolls from his pillowy lips melts the ice built around your heart, gentle like the first snowdrop peeking it's head through the snow.

There's something different bubbling up inside Hyunjin, something he hasn't felt in a long time.

As he makes his way up the little hill towards the biggest house with faded yellow paint, chipped at some parts of the wall, his heart skips a few beats.

Maybe it's because he's been a bit out of shape lately, or maybe it's because of you.

You with your genuine smile, you with your curious eyes and with all the pretty flowers surrounding you.

The flowers that used to bring inspiration and comfort to Hyunjin, ones he painted so happily, his hand gliding easily across the once blank canvas, the colors all bleeding into one another, kissing and loving.

The feeling he forgot. The feeling of love. The feeling of home. The nostalgia that inevitably comes with it.

Hyunjin knocks on the big wooden door, and after a few moments he hears heavy footsteps and a voice calling out.

The door swings open and a man probably in his 60s stands in the frame with a friendly smile on his face.

His grey hair is neatly pulled back, the wrinkles on his face are proof of how many years he smiled and frowned. There's a sparkle in his eyes and a bright smile on his face, showing off perfectly white teeth that he probably had done.

He's dressed in a simple black turtleneck and grey pants, the only ornament on his body in the shape of a huge silver ring, a black tourmaline stone in the middle of it.

"Welcome, welcome! You must be Hyunjin. Come in, young man."- the man smiles wide, immediately helping Hyunjin with his suitcase and stepping aside so he could come in.

"My name is Isaac. But you probably already had that figured out."- the man waves his hand as if to dismiss what he just said. "Welcome to my humble abode, I hope your stay here is as cozy as can be."- Isaac says, leading Hyunjin through the lobby and towards the big carpeted wooden stairs.

The house looks old but well taken care of, everything is wiped clean and polished, each nook and cranny devoid of any dust and neglect.

Hyunjin can't help but notice the skillfully crafted wood on the handrail, as well as a few other sculptures carved out of wood, taking the shape of people with their head in their hands who are desperately crying, lovers holding onto each other where you can't even tell where one ends and the other starts, beautiful women with big breasts and tummies lying on their side, vunerable and goddess-like.

Isaac eyes Hyunjin carefully as he seems glued to all the works of art around him, probably forgetting that he should be settling into his room and eating something.

"What do you think, young man?"- Isaac asks, making Hyunjin jolt a little as he looks up for a second before the carved sculptures grab his attention again.

"Very beautiful pieces, there's so much detail in each and every one. They must be very expensive."- Hyunjin comments making the older man chuckle deeply.

"Yes, very expensive. Cost me a lot of time and patience. And then of course, there's the material. The actual wood."- Isaac crosses his arms on his chest and Hyunjin needs a few seconds before a lightbulb appears above his head.

"Oh... Oh, you made them. That's incredible, you're an artist."- Hyunjin smiles, somewhat chuckling ironically for the fact that he can't seem to escape that which he considers brought him to the state he's in right now. "I'm kind of an artist too."- he downplays whatever life he built, suddenly feeling too dumb and embarassed do act boisterous in front of Isaac.

"Let me see your hands."- Isaac says and Hyunjin doesn't question him, just reaches his hands towards the man and Isaac leans down a little, his lips pursed as he folds his hands behind his back, a quiet hum in the back of his throat.

"You're a painter."- Isaac concludes before lifting up.

"How did you know?"- Hyunjin's eyes widen just a little, his eyebrows lifting up and Isaac lets out a laugh.

"Your skin is too pristine for anything else. But your nails are stained a little."- Hyunjin brings his hands up, closer to his face, and stares as if he sees his own hands for the first time.

He never noticed the slight staining on his fingers, almost forgetting the fact that beyond all the expensive paintbrushes and tools, an artist's work comes from his hands and his heart.

Is his heart stained too?

"Which one calls to you the most?"- Isaac brings him out of his thoughts again with his warm and patient voice and Hyunjin follows his line of sight, landing his eyes on the beautiful wooden sculptures again.

Maybe if he was younger he'd choose the woman, her breasts full and supple, inviting him to lay his head on them, wrap his lips around the tender nipples.

Maybe if he wasn't so jaded, he'd choose the lovers because love is the greatest feeling of them all, love is what makes people climb the highest mountain peak, swim the deepest ocean, reach the furthest star.

But Hyunjin can't help but stare at the man sitting in despair, fingertips digging into his own forehead as if he wants to rip his face out, take his brain out and scream at it.

Isaac sees. He sees through Hyunjin, he was once like him. Caught in the web of self-hatred and nihilism, despising everything he once held so dearly in his heart.

"You must be hungry."- Isaac never comments on Hyunjin's silent choice and he's thankful for that.

"Actually, yes."- Hyunjin feels the emptiness in his stomach as soon as food is mentioned and he realizes he hasn't eaten anything since last night.

"Why don't you get settled in and I will heat up some dinner?"- Isaac suggests and Hyunjin quickly shakes his head.

"You don't need to do that for me, I'm sure you have other business to attend to."- Hyunjin says.

"Nonsense, I don't mind at all. Honestly, it gets a little lonely here before the tourists start coming in so it would be nice to have someone to talk to. Other than my sculptures, that is."- Isaac says with a chuckle.

"Alright, if it's no bother then."- Hyunjin nods, giving a small smile to the warm man.

"Your room is the last door on the right."- Isaac points towards the staircase.

"Thank you."

Isaac smiles, quickly turning on his heel and leaving, presumably to the kitchen.

Hyunjin makes his way upstairs, his suitcase in his hands, the floorboards look too old and sensitive to drag the harsh wheels on them so he opts to just keep carrying his suitcase to his room.

Every wall is adorned with framed wooden carvings, sculptures even bigger than the ones downstairs are sitting in the corners of the hall.

Hyunjin curiously eyes every single one of them, waiting for them to suddenly come alive and move.

He shakes his head quickly, opening the last door on the right.

A loud gasp escapes his lips as soon as he walks into the room. It's bigger than he thought it would be, decorated like the rest of the house, everything is carved out of wood and the works of art made from Isaac's hands have become a staple that Hyunjin's eyes are already getting used to.

Hyunjin lays his suitcase down next to the closet and his legs first take him to the big window, the curtains pulled back and neatly tied up on the sides of the window frame.

The view is breathtaking, being up on the hill allows him to see almost everything, the sea, the shore, the main square with a church and also part of the little flower shop that he was just inside a few minutes ago.

Hyunjin needs to snap a picture. He fishes out his camera and after adjusting it, he takes a few pictures of the beautiful view, zooming in on the flower shop for a second and seeing that the door is still closed and the lights are still off.

You must be on your lunch break as you said.

He looks around the room again, the huge bed looks inviting after traveling for hours but he needs to eat something first.

The room that's warm and lived in, the smell of varnished wood and cinnamon enveloping his senses, the lively art pieces around him, make for a big contrast to Hyunjin's modern apartment, cold steel, black leather, the smell of cleanliness, the perfection of it all, the paintings that he despises from the bottom of his soul.

The ones he made in a state of delirium because Charlie was pressuring him, because people want more, because he needs to meet the deadline, because he's obligated to do them.

A metallic taste spreads inside Hyunjin's mouth and it takes him a few seconds to realize he bit his lip so hard that he drew blood.

He curses under his breath, walking into the adjoining bathroom to wash his mouth and thoughts away.

Lunch break was something you loved to spend in your favorite restaurant unless it was tourist season.

Then, it would get too crowded for your liking so you'd just go back home and eat before re-opening your shop.

Everything is 2-3 minutes of walking distance, your shop and your home, and the restaurant that a young married couple owns.

"The usual?"- Bennet peeked his head from behind the kitchen wall, and you chuckled giving the man a thumbs up.

You took your book out of your bag and looked out the window before little giggles on your left caught your attention and you turn to see Luna, the owner's 6 year old daughter, staring at you with big shiny eyes and holding a makeshift daisy bouquet in her little hands.

"Oh, is that for me?"- you ask slowly, pointing at yourself.

She stares at your lips before giving a little nod and another giggle before she reaches the flowers towards you.

Your hand is placed on your chin, then reached towards her as you mouth a 'thank you'.

She smiles happily, her chubby cheeks rosy before she runs away to play.

Catherine is quick to catch up to the little girl, gently grabbing her shoulders before signing a 'be careful' to which the girl nods and mouths an 'okay'.

"Hey, y/n."- Catherine lets out a sigh and you chuckle.

"Is she giving you a hard time today?"- you ask as she puts your lemonade down on the table.

"Try yelling at a deaf child to watch out from a distance."- she shakes her head, a bead of sweet running down her forehead. "My whole life flashed before my eyes, but luckily it was Delmar and he managed to stop his car just in time."

"Heart attack inducing stuff."- you nod. "But everything ended well and I'm sure she'll be more careful now."

"I hope so too."- Catherine nods with a smile, before turning to go check on her daughter.

You sigh quietly, looking through the window again as you sip on your lemonade when suddenly, the face of the handsome stranger called Hyunjin appears in your mind.

There's something that flickers in your chest at the thought of his smile. Then it clicks.

He's probably the celebrity that Barbara talked about, he must be an actor or a singer with a face like that, you think.

You wonder why he would come here though.

Maybe he got sick of all the glitz and glitter that being famous brings. That's something you could never be, live in the spotlight like that, to be picked at and proded at like you were some kind of test subject, looked at like you were some kind of animal in a cage, existing to entertain other people.

"Here you go, y/n."- a plate is placed on your table, snapping you out of your thoughts.

"Oh, thank you."- you smile at Bennet, as the aroma of your favorite meal fills up your space, making your stomach growl again.

It's quiet as you start eating and as always you ask Catherine and Luna to join you, which they usually happily agree to unless there are customers to attend to.

Bennet whips up their favorites quickly and excuses himself because he has a kitchen to clean, as he says, while you learn a few new words that help you communicate with Luna.

The sounds of utensils clinking against plates fill up the room as Hyunjin and Isaac sit in his dining room. It's the most lavish room yet, the table they're eating on feels too precious to even be used so Hyunjin is extra careful with his meal.

The big chandelier hangs above their heads, the sunlight shining through the huge windows that reveal a balcony, reflects in the crystal pendants decorating the chandelier, creating little rainbows scattered around the room.

"My father made this table."- Isaac notices Hyunjin looking at it, as if he's deep in thought.

"It's really exquisite. I feel a little apprehensive using it as a regular dining table."- Hyunjin says and Isaac chuckles.

"We ate on it every day. And then my wife and son too."- Isaac says, the mood shifting suddenly as a sad smile spreads on his face.

"You have a son?"- Hyunjin asks, taking another bite of the meat.

"I had a son."- Isaac nods and Hyunjin feels bad that he pried.

"I'm sorry."- he didn't want to dig into someone's wound so he looked down at his plate, feeling remorseful for asking.

"It's okay, it's been years. He was probably around your age when he left us."- Isaac reminisces.

"Was he sick?"- Hyunjin asks, seeing that Isaac wanted to talk about his son, maybe it brought him some kind of comfort to keep the memory of him alive.

"He was... sad. Very sad. We tried everything. But nothing could light the spark in his eyes."- Isaac shivers with a sad smile.

"I'm so sorry, I shouldn't have asked anything."- Hyunjin quickly says, feeling embarassed for himself and sad for the kind man sitting across from him.

"No, it's okay, you didn't know."- Isaac shakes his head. "I like talking about my son. He was also great with woodwork. I learned from my father and he learned from me. Guess it runs in the family."- he nods with a small smile.

"If you'd like, I could teach you some woodworking too."- Isaac suggests before Hyunjin can say anything.

He can see the turmoil on Hyunjin's face, the cogs turning behind his eyes as he struggles with whether to love or hate that suggestion.

"I'll be in my studio later if you want to join me."- Isaac intervenes quickly, pointing to the hall.

"What was his name, if you don't mind me asking?"- Hyunjin asks after a few moments of silence, referring to Isaac's son.

"Leo."- Isaac says with a kind of pain in his voice.

Hyunjin finds those three letters etched into the windowsill in the room he booked, his fingertips tracing the chipped wood, realizing quickly that this room once belonged to him.

Hyunjin doesn't join Isaac in his studio, he can't bear to even think about painting or woodwork at this moment, all he wants is to feel free from the confines he created for himself.

After lunch, he took a much needed nap and then an even more needed warm shower. He walks out into the room with only a towel wrapped around his waist, using another one to dry his hair.

Being up on the hill probably caught some signal on his phone as it buzzes next to the bed. Hyunjin frowns, making his way to it and grabbing it.

Charlie. Of course.

In the heat of the moment, he doesn't think, he just chucks the phone on the bed and it bounces up and smacks into the closet and then lands down on the floor with a loud thud, the battery falling out.

"That oughta do it."- he says quietly, leaving the device where it landed.

Hyunjin gets dressed quickly, grabbing his backpack and camera before he makes his way downstairs. He glances shortly at the big door leading to Isaac's studio, something heavy weighing on his chest before he turns away and walks out of the house.

There's nothing like watching the sunset while sitting on the beach. The beautiful golden rays mixing with the orange and pink hues, reflecting on the water as the sun itself drowns in it.

You're sitting with your little diary in your hands, well one of many you have, one that still has empty pages you have to fill up.

Most of them consist of dried up flowers and even a few little sketches you did, sometimes you write something you found funny in it, sometimes you pour your soul out on the pages, your tears blurring your vision and smearing the ink of your pen.

Today, the page is blank but your mind isn't.

For some reason, it's filled with Hyunjin and you wish you were better at drawing people so that your hand could capture the face that was already etched in your brain even after you only saw him once.

A twig snaps behind you, and you quickly turn around, jolting a little.

He appears in your view like he was summoned, like he was there to help you see his face again so that you could maybe try to capture the beauty on paper.

"Oh..."- he also jolts a little like he got frightened by your presence. "Y/n, right?"- he licks his lips and swallows, as his feet come to a halt.

"Yeah."- you nod.

"Sorry if I scared you. Kinda scared myself too."- Hyunjin says with a timid smile, still keeping a good distance away from you.

"It's okay. Usually, no one comes here at this time so I was surprised."- you say and he slowly makes his way to you.

"Mind if I join you?"- he asks, almost timidly and you have to wonder what kind of celebrity is shy like that.

"Sure."- you nod and he comes closer, slowly sitting down on the rock next to yours.

"I decided to explore the island a little. And you were right, I saw everything in one evening."- he chuckles as he looks at you, then at the notebook in your hands curiously.

"Are you sure you saw everything? There are a few hidden spots here that only the locals know about."- you eye the camera in his hands.

Such pretty hands.

"Oh really? Is there a guide who could show me some of those hidden spots?"- he asks and you let out a small chuckle.

"Depends on how much you pay up."- you say and he looks at you before you start chuckling, making him chuckle too.

"I'm joking, of course. I mean, I'm free tomorrow if you want me to give you the real tour of the island."- you suggest, wiggling your eyebrows.

"I would love that."- Hyunjin nods, a smile spreading on his face that makes his eyes crinkle.

When was the last time he smiled like that?

Hyunjin lifts up his camera to snap a few pictures of the sunset and you can't help but look at his features more closely while he's distracted.

Beneath the smile and the obviously expensive attire, something inside him seems sad and tired, you can feel it meandering between your bodies.

"Is that a sketchbook?"- Hyunjin asks curiously, as you play with the cover of your notebook.

"Kind of. It's a sliver of my thoughts, if you will."- you say as you stare at it.

"Can I see?"- he asks and you look up at him, genuine interest painted on his face.

"Sure, I'll show you some sketches, just not the things I write."

"Yeah, of course, I don't want to invade your privacy."- he says and you nod, finding a page where you sketched a few tulips from different angles.

"Oh, that's really pretty. I like your shading."- Hyunjin leans in closer and you get a whiff of his shampoo that gets you feeling entranced for a moment.

"Ah, thank you. I'm not the best at drawing at all, it's just that I'm good with anything that has to do with flowers."- you smile, somewhat sadly, Hyunjin notices and something pulls him to you.

He wants to know everything, he wants to tell you everything.

But he's afraid.

He's afraid of revealing the truth, afraid of bursting the little bubble appearing around the two of you, he's frightened to open his soul up, only to find it was rotten, only to see you turn away.

Hyunjin is someone who believes, well, used to believe in love at first sight but that was before he destroyed everything gentle and pure inside him, creating another person out of the broken shards, a fake person, a disgusting and cold person who fades away into other darkened souls, lost in the abyss of eternal nothingness.

"You're an expert in your field. That's admirable."- Hyunjin manages to dig up anything that feels gentle, even for a split second.

"What about you? What is your field of expertise?"- you ask and Hyunjin dreads answering and talking about that which he despises right now.

"Art, I guess. Painting to be exact. I'm a painter?"

"You say that like you're unsure of it."- you give him an inquisitive smile.

"Sometimes you forget who you are and why you even do what you do. Sometimes, something you always knew and loved gets further away from you the more you try to reach out for it."- Hyunjin talks and you giggle, putting your notebook aside.

"Are you sure you're not a poet?"- you tease and Hyunjin chuckles nervously, his cheeks becoming rosy like the cotton candy clouds in the sunset before you.

"I'm better with colors than words, or at least I was."- he says, scratching his head as he purses his lips.

"You talk so nicely so I'm sure your art is even nicer."- you conclude.

It hasn't even been a day since he first laid his eyes upon you, but Hyunjin feels like you set his mind at ease with little effort, with just a few words and a sweet smile.

"Thank you."- he smiles. "I'll show you another time. I don't have my phone on me."- he adds.

"Looking forward to that."- you say. "And what you said earlier, I relate to it. Sometimes I feel like that with my flowers. But they're all I really know."- you shrug. "I always come back to them."

"Yeah, I find myself sitting in front of a blank canvas many times without even painting anything. I guess it's etched into my bones by now."

"Like part of your DNA."- you follow up and Hyunjin agrees.

"Is it okay if I take a picture of you?"- he asks after a few moments of comfortable silence.

The sun has almost completely immersed itself into the water and the last light of the day illuminates your facial features perfectly, the sparkle prominent in your eyes.

Hyunjin wants to capture what you talked about, how you looked and how you smiled at him and keep it in his heart forever.

"Sure."- you nod, chuckling a little.

You turn towards the sea, the last of the sun's rays reflecting off of the surface and almost hypnotizing you as you hear the click of the camera.

Hyunjin thinks this is the best picture he ever took.

And as he walks back to his current home, he feels like destiny intertwined her hands into his life, bringing the two of you together, like this is a start to something he can't even begin to fathom yet, like whatever he searched for, he found in you.

Maybe he just met you, but deep inside his wounded soul Hyunjin knows, you will become the most important person that touched his heart.

✨Taglist: @moonchild9350 @janepg @velvetmoonlght @hwanghyunjinismybae @jehhskz @laylasbunbunny @porangporangmeong @jeonginslefthand @sapphirewaves @simpforleeknaur @laughatdanger @lixies-favorite-cookie @linavc @quokkacidal @thisaintredwine @m00gyu @yaorzu-blog @skzfelixlove @tajannah-price1 @puccaaak @aft2rsexs @xxkissesforchanniexx @aprilmaejune77 @lilmeowneow @stayjinnie @astrobebba @danihwang882 @kaysungshine @nchhuhi @1810cl @chartrucewhore @babigriin @jisuperboard @alisonyus @minluvly

136 notes · View notes

xxbimbobunnyxx · 11 months

Text

You’ll Never Be A Burden

(Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader)

Summary: When you can’t get out of bed, answer your phone, or shake the feeling of hopelessness your boyfriend is there to reassure you that he will always be there for you no matter what. WK: 1.6k moodboard

Warnings: Talk of mental illness, depression, feeling unloved/unworthy of love, not being able to get out of bed, insomnia, food mention, hurt/comfort, Eddie being the sweetest sweetie. Just all around this is centered around mental illness and how it feels to be too depressed to get out of bed. Please let me know if I missed any. Also I wrote this in one sitting so there’s probably typos. 18+MDNI

A/N: I don’t specifically mention a certain mental illness but for me this is how it feels when I’m having a BPD episode. So for me this symbolizes borderline depression but it can apply to any type of depression or mental low. I’ve been really going through it lately, so I just harnessed how I feel into writing this and it was very therapeutic. I wish Eddie could come hold me.

You weren’t sure how long you’ve been laying in bed in between awake and asleep at this point. A few hours? A day? Two? All you know is that the clock on your nightstand reads 2:48AM and you have been trying to force your brain to shut off since it read 8PM. You tried everything to calm the war raging inside your mind. You took so many deep breaths at this point you lost count, you pulled all the blankets over your head and tightened your body into the smallest ball you possibly could, you rocked back and forth while you repeated your mantra of “you’re okay” to yourself over and over again. But no matter what you did you couldn’t stop the negative thoughts from swimming around inside you.

You hated when you got like this. Overcome by this feeling of hopelessness. The feeling of shame. Loneliness. Not being able to shake the feeling as if you’re a burden to everyone around you. So you isolate yourself. Not wanting to drag anyone down with your negativity, not wanting to lash out at the people who are just trying to help you, not being able to bear the feeling of being alone in a room full of people.

Your friends had all texted and called you, social media notifications and voicemails piling up. Not even being able to muster up the energy to pick up the phone and respond to the one person you knew would make you feel better. So instead you thought of him. The way his beautiful eyes lit up when a smile spread across his lips. The way it felt to have his arms around you, his smell, his soothing voice. It’s what kept you going on days like this. Him.

Yet you couldn’t bring yourself to pick up the phone. To ask him to come hold you. You were embarrassed, embarrassed of the disaster your house has become, embarrassed of your unbrushed teeth and messy hair, the pajama pants that felt like they were stuck to your body. You didn’t want him to see you like this. He’s only ever seen you like this once, and he was amazing, perfect even. But to this day you beat yourself up over those days he took care of you, washed you, held you while you sobbed, read to you in exaggerated voices until you dozed off with your head in his lap and his fingers in your hair.

You know he wouldn’t mind, that he was happy to help you, be there for you. But you were so scared of him seeing you differently and changing his mind about you. You were terrified that if he saw the real you, truly, that he would leave. You’d become too much, too little, never the right amount, just like you always did.

That’s why when you heard a knock on your door your heart race picked up, you felt your skin flush, because you knew it was him. You knew he’d come, you knew he’d be worried and you can’t decide if worrying him to the point that he showed up at your door or just texting him back was worse. You heard him knock lightly on the door a few more times before you heard the key you had given him turning the lock.

“Baby? Are you here? I just came to check on you… haven’t heard from you since yesterday morning and I was starting to worry.”

His voice became louder as he talked, his footsteps padding down the hall to your bedroom door. Your head was still shoved under your blankets so you didn’t see him but you heard the knob turn and the door swing open.

“Sweetheart…”

Eddie’s heart nearly shattered when he opened your bedroom door. Your room was trashed, the black out curtains drawn blocking out the moonlight, and even your fairy lights you always had on, even in the night, were shut off. He couldn’t see you, but he could see the outline of you and hear your breathing. He walks over to your bed and sits on the side next to the lump of blankets you’ve buried yourself in. His hand comes up and runs along your side and it causes you to jump.

“Baby… please let me help you? Let me take care of you. I know you’re scared of being a burden but you’re never a burden to me.” He continued to run his hand up and down your body, the feeling already causing your body to subconsciously relax just the tiniest bit. “Can you come out? Please? I wanna see my girl.”

“I look horrible Eddie… I don’t want you to see me like this.” You pull the blanket tighter against you, shutting him out no matter how loud your body screamed at you to just throw yourself into his arms.

“I’ve seen you wasted, vomiting your guts out in Harrington’s bathtub, it can’t be much worse than that baby. Come oooonnnnn pleeeseee. I’m not above begging.”

He chuckles, his hand squeezing your hip lightly before it resumes caressing you. You sigh, pulling the blanket back just enough to peak your eyes out and him and your heart swells. He’s so beautiful, just the sight of him made butterflies erupt in your stomach. Just being near him made you feel just a little bit more alive. He pushes the blanket the rest of the way off your head, smoothing your hair out of your face.

“There’s my beautiful girl. Hi baby.”

He cups your face in his hand, running his thumb along your sweaty cheek, not caring if you think you look awful, you’re always gorgeous to him. Even like this. Especially like this. Raw and real. He wants you to feel safe with him when you’re in this low place. He wants to sink down to your level and pull you back up with his hand in yours. Eddie would do anything for you. He knows that scares you, he knows you want to believe him but it’s hard to fight the feeling that he’s going to abandon you. But he will do whatever it takes to prove you wrong. To prove that he isn’t like everyone else. To prove that he will stay.

“Hi.” Your voice comes out a scratchy and whiney and it makes you even more embarrassed than you already are. “I’m sorry.”

“For what? You have nothing to be sorry for sweetheart. I’m here for you, always. I brought your favorite snacks, bubbles, and your favorite teddy bear, me. Come here, let me hold you.”

He pushes the blanket back further and you shiver when the cool air of your room hits your body. He holds his arms out to you and your whole body tingles. He’s here for you. He wants to be here for you, and even though that terrifies you, the soft look on his face makes you feel safe. He makes you feel safe. You push yourself up and he grabs you by the forearms pulling you into his lap and cradling you like a small child.

As soon as his arms are around you the floodgates open, sobs leaving your entire body shaking while your tears soak Eddie’s t-shirt. He doesn’t say anything for a while, just holds you while you cry, running his hands through your tangled hair, caressing your skin under your oversized shirt, kissing on your tear stained cheeks. After a while your sobs turn to small cries before they finally stop.

“It’s okay baby girl, you’re okay. I’m here for you, okay? Let me run us a nice bath, afterwards you can eat something, only if you want, if not that’s okay, I just want you to drink some water for me okay?”

“Okay Eddie… thank you, I-“

“Shh, you don’t have to thank me and you don't need to apologize, I’m your boyfriend and I love you, let me be here for you.” He smiles sweetly at you, rubbing the remaining tears from your cheeks and gathering you in his arms.

Eddie spends the night making good on his promises. He pampers you in the bath, washing you and brushing your hair, even putting lotion on your skin afterwards. He puts your comfort movie on tv in the living room so you can lay on the couch while he makes your safe meal. He doesn’t push you to talk, he knows you will when you’re ready. He holds you and tells you he loves you while he makes commentary on your favorite movie. When you finally start to feel sleep creeping up on you he ushers you back to your bed, the sheets now changed because he insisted it wasn’t a big deal. He holds you tight, and kisses you over and over again. He even gets you to giggle and pulls a genuine smile out of you a few times.

As you lay there in the love of your life’s arms you feel less hopeless. You feel less alone. You feel your body start to warm inside from the tips of your toes all the way to your nose as he places a gentle kiss on it. You feel safe. You regret not calling him sooner but the fact that he came without you even asking makes it even more special to you. Your mind can tell you he doesn’t care all it wants, because he’s always there to tell you he does.

“I love you angel, get some rest, okay? I’ll be here when you wake up. I’ll always be here.”

“I love you Eddie. I know you told me not to thank you, but thank you, for being here for me. For being you.” You nuzzle your face into his neck, placing a gentle kiss there before you doze off into a peaceful sleep. In the arms of someone you know loves you.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie Munson fluff #eddie munson hurt/comfort #Eddie Munson x fem reader #Eddie Munson one shot #Eddie Munson fanfiction

560 notes · View notes

st4rbwrry · 5 months

Text

━━━ 𝑝𝑟𝑎𝑦 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑐𝑎𝑡𝑐ℎ 𝑚𝑒. a.h

warnings 𑄽𑄺 6.4k. fem reader, lowercase intended, she/her pronouns, murder mystery, aki is a chef, oral [ f + m.], sneaking away, marijuana use, praise, fingering + finger sucking, aki's tongue is pierced, sexual acts happen quick, mentions of depression, brief mention of emotional/physical abuse, reader is desperate for help/attention, parental neglect, grooming, minors aren’t allowed.

━━━ ꒰ 𝑚𝑜𝑐ℎ𝑎'𝑠 𝑝𝑟𝑒𝑡𝑡𝑦 𝑡ℎ𝑜𝑢𝑔ℎ𝑡𝑠 .ᐟ ꒱ ; another old piece of mine i never fully finished and now posting yrs later!

“okay, i'm out!" aki is shouting as he tosses his white chef coat over his shoulder, book bag on the other, the cool breeze of spring blowing through his raven hair the minute he opened the tall glass door that led to the front of the restaurant. his friend, also a coworker, is busy, in the mix of gathering dirty dishes and clearing trash bins but still sends him a farewell, a quick, 'see ya tomorrow. good job today!' till he's off to his bus stop. he was thankful he got out early, just before five in the afternoon meaning the sun hadn't set yet.

he sighs, extremely worn out, in dire need of a steamy hot shower and a greasy pizza while laying in the comfort of, finally, his own apartment he worked entirely too hard to gain. the commute to his place in brooklyn, new york became rather annoying due to rush hour traffic at this time. having to take the bus then switch to the 'n' train, hopping off and walking fifteen minutes until he finally reaches his destination. his second goal was to afford a vehicle to save him money instead of wasting it on expensive monthly metro cards.

aki's lived here his entire life, growing up in the bronx, not much different. he loved new york, but not their uppity expenses. the fact that he's paying nearly two grand for a 600 square-foot apartment with no in-unit laundry nor a gym at that, was nonsensical. did he want to reside here forever? yes. he'd feel homesick if he ever were to leave. having the opportunity to travel seemed like a much better alternative, that way he'd still have his home but be anywhere in the world doing what he loved, and that was cooking. aki hayakawa was twenty-six years old, earning his master's in culinary arts at the culinary institute of america, also known as the C.I.A.

his ultimate dream was to open his restaurant, which he would name after his tragically deceased mother. a terrible accident in which he dreads the memory of. falling endlessly into a black hole, hearing nothing but the sound of his own fear, the breaking of his bones when it interacted with brick interior, the feeling of his heart thumping excessively against his chest as he continued to drop deeper like a rock that was chucked down an empty well. this emotion he knew all too well; failure. when he lost his mother, it felt as if the world crumbled beneath him, malicious dark vines slithering up to grab him by his ankles and pull him down a bottomless pit of nothingness.

he tasted the agony, the anger, the sadness, and even the hate from the fact that she was gone and never coming back. countless tantrums, anxiety attacks, and depression summed up the apathy of it all. it took him six years to realize that drowning in pain would never help him gain the strength that he knew she wanted him to have. by letting her witness the pain he was going through from above, he was hurting not only her . . but himself. so to overcome the tragedy, he kept himself busy with cooking. going to school, earning his degree, and the current job he had with his best friend since middle school.

school was probably the greatest thing he'd ever done to reinvent who he was as a person. cooking is a delicate yet challenging obstacle to undertake, yet, it's so therapeutic to him. the nature of it all, being able to witness what he can do for many people, bring laughter and happiness—it's a beautiful thing. when aki was small, he and his mother would give back to people all the time. whether they were donating clothes to the homeless, or feeding small pigeons pieces of bread on a sunny day as they flew to the gray pavement, awaiting a feast. they always cared about others. they would experiment a lot, going to food markets just to come home and whip up a good meal which they would then donate to the less fortunate. that's when he learned how humble he felt to give back to those in need.

he wanted to show his mother his achievements, to push himself and become a world-renowned chef, just like gordon ramsey—without the aggression. he wanted his name plastered on articles for his extraordinary talent, talked about on tv, in fact, given his own cooking show on foodnetwork. aki grew up watching that channel, an obsessive enticement his mother could never break the young boy from. he was making recipes at the age of twelve, and learned how to cook at eight. eggs were the first thing, usually everyone's first, then as time progressed, he grew from simple pasta dishes to revitalizing gourmet meats, and anything french. just recently he schooled himself on how to create wine. every day he learned something new, and that was the beauty of culinary.

"hayakawa! come here!" star yells as soon as she sees the tall man emerge through the front door, ready to start his morning shift, raspy voice laced with slight panic, instantly making the man run to her out of worry.

"what's wrong?" he furrows his brows.

"look who just fucking walked in," she grabs his bicep, pulling him closer to the front counter. aki curiously follows where her finger points, seeing a slim man with black curly hair dressed properly in a white and black suit. silver and sapphire rolex on his wrist, his pale green eyes scanning through the lens of his glasses at the menu while he sips his water. expensive.

"i have no idea who that is," aki blinks, making star gasp.

"he's alexander bodari, one of my favorite authors of all time. remember the novel i told you i was reading, about this girl who was kept in this lunatics basement and almost murdered?"

aki's eyebrows raise. "the book dylan bought you for your birthday, right?"

"yeah! that's him. oh my fucking god, i'm so nervous, whew," star begins to fan herself, nearly having a breakdown. aki grabs her shoulder and chuckles.

"chill out, star. you don't have to serve him if you don't want to."

"of course i do! i just. . . can't," she frowns.

"you can, you've done it many times before. this isn't the first celebrity we've come across."

star sighs, nodding. "you're right, i can do it."

"good girl," aki smiles, patting the top of her head. star catches his wrist and scowls.

"fuck off."

"aki," another voice calls to him, this time it's the head chef, also known as his boss. aki greets him with a small, 'good morning, chef' before waiting for his response.

"i'm guessing you know that alexander bodari is here," lane says, arms crossed over his broad chest. aki nods. "i want you to cook for him."

aki and star share a glance of shock.

"uh, why me. where's dylan?"

"he's not feeling well so i gave him the day off. you're the only one here that's near his level, and he's a higher-up man, so i want you to cook for him. star will cater to his needs. we're kinda short-staffed today, and i trust you two will handle it properly."

"yes, chef," they say in unison.

star was only a waiter, working here for four years while aki earned his position two years into her time. the last thing the woman could do was cook, ironic since she worked in a restaurant with very talented people. lane would've asked her in a heartbeat if she was as skilled as aki. aki was known for making dishes at the top of his head, so if anyone asked for a special, he was the one to ask. before they began to serve anyone inside, aki gave star a small prep talk before sending her out. eventually, she got through with taking his order without stuttering or sweating. when she walked back into the kitchen, actually shoved the doors open with a joker smile on her face, aki cocks his head at her.

"you—"

"he wants your special!" she screams, doing a goofy dance, and skipping in her spot.

aki's face drops. "are you deadass?"

"yes! when he was looking at the menu, he saw your four courses on the back and chose your mom's stew! fucking a, man!"

aki is still frozen, weakly giving star their signature handshake, smile slowly easing onto his face. "my mom's stew? seriously?"

"yeah. chop chop, get to it."

aki was persistent. no one's ever ordered his mother's stew, which made this day very special for him. even if the dish was only on the menu for a month, it still meant a lot to him. he made sure there were no distractions, taking a tender chuck roast and cutting them into cubes, seasoning them well while throwing in worcester sauce, balsamic vinegar, garlic cloves, bay leaves, and beef broth. making a slurry with flour and water to thicken the stew. adding onions and potatoes. it was a simple yet fulfilling dish he looked forward to every sunday.

"deep breaths," star whispered as she carried the steaming tray of stew plated professionally on a porcelain oval-shaped bowl. in a way, it felt like she was telling not only herself but him. it's a rarity that people order his courses, and serving this to an author, a bestseller, a man worth millions, made him giddy. he was cheesing like an idiot, pushing star out the double doors to the dining area.

although as soon as she walked out, that's when doubt clouded his gut. did he put too many seasonings? is the meat tender enough? what if he doesn't like it? will he write about it on his author blog? god, he hoped the potatoes weren't hard. he had only tasted the broth, it tasted just like his mother's. what if. . .

"aki," star walks back in, an even wider grin on her a-symmetrical face this time. he blinks, realizing that he's been standing here for three minutes now. "he wants to see the chef."

he's dumbfounded. "me?"

"no, lane. yes, you!" she's squealing like a girl, and sometimes he forgets she is one, even underneath her blunt features and boyish sense of style.

he's clearing his throat now, strolling mindlessly towards alexander bodari's table, greeting himself and waiting for his constructive criticism.

"you're aki hayakawa?" the man questioned, lifting his glasses back onto his face.

"yes, sir."

"i just have to say," alexander chuckles, softly clapping his hands. "this may be one of the best stews i've ever had."

the tenseness in aki's shoulders relaxes, and he's sighing with relief, alexander noticing and laughing. "i'm really glad to hear that, sir."

"did you create this on your own?"

"it's actually my mother's recipe. it's my favorite. every time i make it, it reminds me of her."

"that's really ironic because this reminds me of the stew my mother used to make," he grins. "yours is the first that i haven't seen carrots in."

aki laughs. "my mom hated cooked carrots."

"mine did too," he fixes his collar. "is this your restaurant?"

"no, no. i'm just a cook here. i plan on opening my own soon. i already have my master's."

his brows raise. "wow, that's amazing. wow old are you?"

"twenty-six, sir."

"well, you're definitely going places," he compliments and aki feels even more satisfied. "say what, i'm having this pre-book release, about a hundred guests. i was wondering if you would like to cater the party. i'll pay you however much you want."

it's like the whole world collapsed on his chest. he'd never gotten an opportunity like this, especially this big. to cook for so many famous people at once was a blessing. he could really show off his skills if he took this offer . . . and did. after thanking him, exchanging contacts, and then handshakes, aki lets the man finish his meal before jogging back into the kitchen to scream about it to aki, lane, and the rest of the crew. alexander offered star to come along to serve, but unfortunately she couldn't, seeming as she'd be out of town for family matters that day.

alexander, of course, knowing she was a big fan signed a copy of his book she already had in her bag and letting her know she could help the next time he had an event. that made her happy enough. the two of them couldn't wait to finish their shifts today, taking the train to star's place and planning dishes all night, even cooking them to get them just right. alexander was hosting the party at his penthouse down soho. and aki had a week to prepare himself.

୨♡୧

cashmere sweaters, silk gowns, and jewelry that most likely cost more than his savings account roamed the lovely terrace of alexander bodari's home. every inch of it screamed filthy rich. rows of tables were set outside, the dark night sky making the moon shun brightly amongst the glass centerpieces filled with calla lilies and moss. white cloths, sterling silverware, and porcelain dinnerware. the terrace itself was elegant; freshly cut bushes trimmed as squares, a marble three-tiered italian water fountain placed in the middle. roses, dandelions, tall plants ranging from bamboo, snake plants, and pothos. alexander was very in touch with nature and his spirit. it's crazy he writes about the things he does.

speaking of, the book he was presenting that would be released in august was titled, 'to riven a magnolia.' he wouldn't quite reveal what it was about yet, wanting it to be a surprise, but did read an excerpt from the novel. aki only paid half attention, big words throwing him off plus he wanted to set the food table properly so guests could take what they wanted after his reading. aki didn't go all out since only seventy-two people were available to make it, and he didn't want any meals that would make anyone too full to converse, so he kept it simple yet exquisite. each guest received a slice of japanese fluffy cheesecake with a side of strawberry and mandarin orange tanghulu. beef wellington, and a six-sided cream garlic bread.

he received praise all night long. people gasping and thanking him for the food, giving him all sorts of compliments making the man blush like a child. at one point he held both sides of his face in his palms when a woman and her husband approached him to talk, way too shy, and the woman flirting with him didn't make it go away. eventually, her husband dragged her out of his sight. the night went on, classical music played as people sipped their champagne and talked about their wealth, their yoga classes, their thousand dollar dogs, golf, marketing . . . aki hopes he never becomes this way.

as he's pouring an elderly lady a glass as she rambles about baking, he notices a woman he's barely seen all night. he's disoriented, eyeing this girl leaning up against a vintage roman painting reaching the ceiling once the lady departs. brown eyes; the first captivating part of her body he captured. they appeared lonely, bored perhaps as they scanned through the crowd of people, soon landing on another pair, his own. the godly woman stared at him longingly. aki had no business nearly losing his shit under her gaze. wow. she was truly stunning.

one feature that stood out the most were the freckles scattered from the bridge of her nose to the swell of her cheekbones. pretty. her black hair styled protectively in butterfly locs that grazed her collarbones, seeing the industrial piercing hiding behind a piece. her lashes were long, naturally extended. heart-shaped lips were full and pouty, the upper lip brown while the lower, salmon pigmented. an emerald satin mini dress loosely clung to her alluring brown skin. cowl neckline, ruched waist, and an open back partially revealing the red dragon tattoo painted on the side of her hip. black suede gucci heels strapped prettily around her ankles, showcasing her white painted toenails. a three layered gold necklace on her chest. this woman, you, were the rationale of celestial.

it was the moment you smiled at him, tilting your head slightly to the side while tapping your ombré acrylic nail amongst the glass of your champagne, calling to him while he thoughtlessly followed, that aki would realize he had made one of the worst mistakes in his life.

"you're pretty."

it's the first thing you say when he walks towards you, offering a piece of cheesecake with a cheeky smile. aki is taken aback, chuckling nervously, palms already clammy the minute he approached you.

"pretty?" he's perplexed.

"that's what i said," you say, taking the gold fork from his palm and cutting a slice to taste, widening your mouth while maintaining eye contact. the man swallows.

"uh, i've never gotten that before. thank you."

you're too busy eyeing him to say a thing. even if he dressed in simple black skinny jeans and same color tee, a silver necklace tucked beneath his shirt, sable combat boots, and a white apron around his waist . . he looked damn good. his eyes were blue, somewhat smoke gray, dark hair long and straight, the top half tucked into a small messy bun on the back of his head. a few loose strands swaying around his cheekbones. he was tall, shoulders broad, forearms and hands slightly veiny. you gazed at his hands holding the plate for you, wide and rough, fingers long.

"you don't seem to be enjoying the party," he says, knocking you out of your daydream.

you hum with displeasure. "he's a fake."

aki furrows his brows. "sorry?"

"alex, he's unoriginal. most of his novels are stolen by people he pays to keep quiet," you side-eye him while downing the last drop of your champagne, slowly licking your lips. his eyes flicker there for a split moment.

"how do you know?"

the question makes you quiet, tapping your glass. "think of it like this; everyone starts off as a cocoon. eventually as time goes by, we evolve into butterflies. the cocoon represents our innocence; the purity and unawareness of what's to come in life. once we sprout into butterflies, we become tarnished, facing the real world and learning to adapt to its cruelty. life can be beautiful, but it's always painful no matter how happy or dismal we are. it's our choice to fly in the direction we want for ourselves even when the harshness of life beats us down. butterflies only live for so long. we disintegrate after inhumane amounts of stress, loneliness, or tragic events that take a toll on us, removing the power of staying beautiful. we show beauty to the public but don't feel it when everything around us is falling apart. but we can't make life harder on ourselves by dwelling on what we can't have rather than pushing for what we can have."

aki is speechless, half-understanding what you meant. "are you saying alexander is a butterfly that can't fly?"

"he's more like a mosquito, latching onto those who want to sprout into a butterfly but sucks the nutrients from them for his pleasure. he's a fraud. he'll never be a butterfly because he simply can't."

"did he steal from you? is that why you resent him?"

"no," you bluntly state, although aki doesn't believe you.

he takes the fork from you, cutting you another slice before holding it towards your lips, waiting for you to bite. you looked like you needed it. the drowsiness in your eyes may have indicated that you were tipsy. you giggle, shaking your head before he feeds you, your big eyes captivating him more. "is there something you want?"

"you."

aki nearly chokes and he's not even the one eating, your bluntness throwing him in a spiral of emotions.

"am i beautiful to you?" you lean closer, aki swallowing, scanning his surroundings. most of everyone remained in the living area, the two of you far behind a wall near the glass door of the terrace. he could smell your scent better, a sweet smell of caramel. soft skin shimmering with glitter.

"very."

"so what's stopping you? you got a girlfriend or somethin'?"

"n-no, it's just. i barely know you."

"that's part of the thrill," he watches as your small wrist turns and your palm is flat outward. "come upstairs with me."

like any man would, his feet walked on their own, stupidly following behind you up the black marble staircase, hand in yours as his eyes watched your hips switch.

"what's your name?" that should've been the first thing you asked, idiot.

"[♡]."

"i'm aki."

"i know who you are."

that's right, alexander introduced him to everyone after his reading right before supper. things felt like they went too quickly. aki didn't know who he was at this moment, completely floating out of his body and letting you take over like a spell. he was entranced. one thing leads to another, you're locking the door to one of the four bedrooms here. aki's sitting on the bed while you walk around, talking to him more about anything. his age, his aspirations in life. nonsense, basically. until he notices something.

a room with an open bay window revealing the late-night city of new york, stars in the sky, skyscrapers high. the breeze is warm, the air making the fabric of your dress rise just enough for him to catch a glimpse of the pink thong you wore. he's gulping, your legs shifting and a grin coming on your face as you see the tint of red blush across his cheeks. you're leaned against the window, toes pressing into your other foot, a gold anklet with the first letter of your name clasped on your skin. your shoes were off, and in between your two fingers sat a blunt, maybe about three inches now since you were too busy talking, letting it burn away.

once you flick it out the window, you fully turn to face him, sharp nails skidding up your thighs teasingly slow until the hem of your dress rises fully, and he's staring at the belly button piercing you have. your thick thighs, your curves, and your nipple when you moan and lift your arms to stretch and one of the straps falls down your shoulders.

"oops," you're pouting, and aki's had enough. he got it now. he understood why you wanted him to come up here. the liquor buzzing in your veins, and going straight to your clit like a drug. you wanted him the moment you saw him. you needed him, for more reasons than one.

aki was always one to put a woman's pleasure before his own. so when he saw you drop to your knees to crawl towards him, dainty hands trailing up his clothed thighs until you're undoing his belt and he's biting his lip. . . he was drawn in further. pulling him out of the confinement of his jeans, holding his pulsating dick in your hand, darting your tongue out, and pressing it flat to the aching head. he's squeezing his eyes shut when he's deep in your throat after a while, moaning around him and twisting your hand along as your mouth glides. his hand is in your hair, gathering some of it in his large fist while leaning back a bit to see those gorgeous eyes of yours stare into his, slightly watery. he liked that. he liked you.

"nnn, baby. like that," he's throwing his head back, jaw slacked as he tried to keep his voice down, not daring to let too much slip out regarding the guests below them. eyes back on you, he's watching as your hips gyrate in the air, desperately needing to be touched.

it's so foreign, this level of intimacy. it's been so long since he's had his dick buried deep in anything. sure, he masturbates like any other human being, but it's a rarity. he's so consumed in work that by the time he goes home he's knocked out in slumber, not even thinking about grabbing his fleshlight to fulfill his pleasure. the last time he had sex was at the beginning of his freshman year of college. it was some girl in his cutlery class who invited him over for late-night drinks, leading to more than just that. it was frequent until he realized he was failing courses because of the distraction and had to get back on track, so, he called it quits.

now he's pulling you up, feverishly pressing his lips to yours in a messy kiss, lips smacking, tongues bumping. you're keening when his thick fingers clasp around your throat as you straddle his waist, clinging to his shirt you eventually pull over his head. it's as if the both of you forgot that people were here and might hear you, but neither of you cared. aki's not even scolding you when you're moaning too loud the second he has you beneath him, your clothing still on, barely, and his jeans and briefs clinging to his ankles, your knees to your chest as his hot mouth latches around your puffy clit, back arching off the plush mattress.

the metal from his pierced tongue rushing against you as he holds the back of one of your thighs to keep them up, grunting and swallowing your arousal. you're whining so much it has his dick twitching, pulling on his hair not helping either. you're rocking your hips with urgency, legs twitching after he lifts his head to spit, collecting his saliva with two fingers before curling them into you, holding your stomach down while he shakes his fingers. that alone has you convulsing around him, tears in your eyes as you whimper his name and squirm helplessly, his lips kissing your inner thighs.

coming down from your high, aki's already propping himself behind you, turning you on your side while he laid on his, leveraging your head with his forearm underneath your neck, fingers in your mouth you suck while glaring at him. he curses, monotoned voice rasping, "don't do that."

"do what?" you hum, wrapping your lips around them again and moaning.

aki clenches his jaw, lifting your right leg to open you up before slipping inside, hearing you gasp as you adjust to the stretch. both of you groan in unison, turning your face to the side to kiss him while your nails clawed at his hip, then his ass as he rolls into you, too horny to be gentle and snapping his hips hard against your ass, grunting, "i heard you, girl," and drilling faster. your eyes scroll to the back of your head, aki swallowing the breath out of you as he sucks on your bottom lip and chokes you, the two of you whining in each other's mouth, muffling the noise although the skin interaction didn't cease.

he's brutal, a different person when in this form of bond. dropping your leg and reaching between to rub at your clit, heavy breaths on your neck as he hides his face there. you can easily smell the citrus scent of his shampoo, his scent overall a main attraction when he stepped toward you. . . like lavender. when he's nearing his climax, he gropes your chest, slurring, "be a good girl and cum all over me, baby. can i feel it this time?" and you nod, doing just as he says, his taunts and praises making your gut swim with butterflies.

you try not to scream as he licks and bites your neck sloppily, dazed. instead, you grab a pillow nearby and stuff part of it in your mouth, aki's face hovering over you as tears leak from your eyes and you cum hard, harder than you ever had. aki holds you close by your waist, taking a few more pumps before he furrows his brows and slowly pulls out, cumming on your flush skin with a hiss. by this time, his hair had fallen down his face completely, and even in your fucked out state, you reach up to rake through it with a lazy smile. aki chuckles, kissing your forehead before building the strength to find a cloth to clean you up. luckily, there's an en-suite bathroom, giving him access to warm water and toiletries.

fixing his posture in the mirror, he's rubbing his face and adjusting his clothes to appear as he did when he arrived; neat and professional. although what he just did wasn't so classy of him. he fucked some woman he barely knew at a millionaires home. work, he was working. not here for personal pleasure. he wanted to slap himself for being so easily enraptured. no one had to know about it. he only hoped not a soul downstairs heard what went on.

he's good to go, done scolding himself and turning off the bathroom light before stepping out. he finds you perched up, sipping a miniature bottle of crown royal you found in the bedside mini-fridge, sniffling your nose and blankly staring out the window. aki comes forward, gently grasping your thigh and gliding the wet cloth over your skin, the silence awkward.

"dandelions.”

aki's eyes slowly drift to your face, staring in confusion. "what?"

he notices how eerily slow tears built up in your eyes, gripping the bottle harder before exhaling. "dandelions," now you're finally looking at him, the coldness on your face making him anxious. "that's where his body is."

your voice is like vanilla. it's one thing about you that he grew infatuated with. it's one of the many reasons he was captured by you, brought to where he was now. standing at the bedside as he watched tears pool down your broken face. body? what body? he grew cold, nervously eyeing you as you sniffled, standing to fix your hair, dress, and walking around the bed to slip back into your heels.

“wait," he goes to grab your arm when you try to walk out the door. "what the fuck are you talking about?"

the deadness in your eyes scares him even more, and he's panicking when you say, "alex."

“alexander?!" he shouts, dragging you away from the exit, hands on either side of your shoulders as he eyes you, his own wide. heart pumping drastically. "what did you do? where is he?"

"by the dandelions on the terrace," blunt, again. as if you aren't phased at all by his reaction. "follow me."

he's stunned, unable to fully process what you were telling him. he already assumed the worst when the term 'body' came to light. though his heart raced heavily in his chest, his feet blindly dragged in your direction. cautiously watching your every move in case he had to protect himself. fuck, he didn't have any weapon. then again, he's sure he could easily handle you, knock you out if he needed to. lock you in a closet and alert the hundreds of guest just below their feet. that's right, there are still people here. and if you mentioned alexander, how the fuck and when the fuck did you have the time to . . . kill him?

"[♡]," he began to speak your name, but your head was in the clouds, ignoring anything that came out of his mouth as you cut into a passageway that led to a grand master bedroom, then facing the terrace you spoke of. he was nervous, your neck turning to eye him as you step onto the gravel, blankly staring down at something. he couldn't see from where he stood, matter of fact, he didn't want to see.

"he's here," you say. "he's here."

aki has no choice but to advance forward, wanting to squeeze his eyes shut from the upcoming scare of a human’s body. and not just any human, the alexander bodari. a flaccid arm sticks out from beside a bush, palm facing the sky, details of a struggle bruised into his hand as the skin in the area seemed peeled. aki’s heart drops the closer he gets, hand covering his mouth as he stares down at the lifeless body laying in a pool of blood. the aluminum wire draped around his neck stained with blood gave aki the answer he needed when it came to the cause. you strangled him to death. the question remains; who are you and how were you affiliated with alexander? most importantly, why’d you kill him?

“i don’t understand,” is all he can get out.

“the proof is in his first novel,” you utter, and he’s still confused. “the story about the woman who’s trapped in the psychopaths basement? it was about me.”

aki couldn’t grasp the thought of you being the woman from the novel star always talked about. that you had been the victim of his story. that it was a real life phenomena. that he met you, slept with you, and now you want him to, what . . . cover up a murder in a house filled with two hundred guests?

“he painted this image as if he was the most prestigious man on the planet. he made money off of real events. events that played out by torturing me, and using me to get his ‘creative juices flowing.’ he needed a test subject. he was a sick man who deserved to die,” tears pour down your face, the anger in your tone thick and pent up from years of pain and sorrow. “he was my father’s partner. my father despised me simply because of my resemblance of my mother and my rebellion against him. when he died from heart failure, in his will, he married me to alex.”

“that’s fucking. . . sick. i didn’t think that was possible in this day and age.”

you scoff with agreement. “yeah. he watched me grow from a preteen to making me his wife. sick bastard for sure.”

aki wants to vomit from this information. still unable to wrap his head around any of it. his hands sit on his hips as he stares up at the sky and blows a raspberry, try to keep his nerves together. you watch him with sadness, and maybe regret. you weren’t intentionally planning for this to happen. though part of you wanted someone to save you. to see the real you and rescue you from this torment.

“i know this is probably the last thing you expected to happen. i apologize for dragging you into this. i just didn’t know what else to do. i felt hopeless. and i refused to let his popularity run by making another fortune of a sick novel.”

“did he attack you?” he asks.

“he didn’t,” you clarify. “i think i just finally snapped. granted, tonight of all nights wasn’t the correct setting.”

aki makes a face that reads ‘fucking clearly’ as he rubs both palms down his face. he doesn’t know whether to run and call you insane or feel sympathy for a victim. but, murder is murder. and now, standing here with you, that’d make him an accomplice. as scary as that was, he couldn’t risk his future career. but he was stuck in a pickle. he wanted to help you.

“there are clear signs of struggle, so we have to make it look like an accident,” aki suggests, but immediately, you shake your head in disagreement.

“they won’t believe that. he’s one of the wealthiest men in new york. it’ll be a huge investigation.”

“then the only answer would be to tell the truth,” he finalized.

“the . . truth?”

aki nods, pulling you toward him and stepping away from the body, chills still going up his spin and goosebumps on his arms. “listen to me, you can tell the world exactly who you are and what he’s done to you. you have proof. transactions, marriage certificate, i’m sure there’s documents for days in his computer that can prove what he’s put you through. there’s evidence somewhere.”

“and if i tell the world, who’s to say they’ll believe me?”

“i believe you,” aki says. your eyes fill with hope, and thankfulness. “people will have their opinions, but we know the truth. do you have anyone else that can be your alibi?”

you think long and hard, until it hits you. “the maid. she’s been working for him ever since i moved in after my father died. she’s fed me, helped me heal wounds . . even get rid of his unborn child i lost after too much stress.”

“jesus christ,” he bows his head in disbelief. “where is she now?”

“luckily, the kitchen. the woman with the braided red hair. she promised me she’d always protect me. after his book succeeded he became nicer to me, gave me a ‘real’ marriage. she was like his mother, always scolding him when he raised his voice at me or wouldn’t let me live my life. it’s all so depressing.”

“okay. it’s okay, you’re going to be okay,” aki comforts you as you begin to sob once again, cradling your head in his chest.

the night ends in the blink of an eye. aki takes you into another room and wraps a blanket around you as you sit on the edge of the bed and wait for the police. he finds the woman you spoke of, pulls her to the side and informs her of the tragedy above. she herself looks relieved. not at all shocked by what played out, as if she knew you’d go through with it. aki guesses he truly was a horrible man. and to think he would’ve worked for him in the future. the police arrive shortly after the woman goes to check on you, insuring that everything would be okay, and that she’d stick to the full story. the police instructs everyone the leave the premises, aki being questioned for a full hour, this home becoming a crime scene, and all of their faces full of black ink on the daily news the next morning.

aki will never forget the chilling smirk on your face as they removed alexander’s body from the terrace. it was . . haunting.

#aki hayakawa smut #aki smut #aki x reader #aki hayakawa #aki x you #aki x y/n #aki hayakawa x reader #aki hayakawa x you #aki hayakawa x y/n #csm smut #csm #chainsaw man #aki csm #𝜗ৎ ˚⋅ 𝖘𝖙𝖗𝖆𝖜𝖇𝖊𝖗𝖗𝖞 𝖈𝖆𝖛𝖊𝖗𝖓 𝖔𝖋 𝖉𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖒𝖘.

236 notes · View notes

art · 2 years

Photo

Creator Spotlight: @velinxi

Hello! I’m Xiao Tong Kong, better known as “Velinxi.” I’m the creator of the webcomic Countdown to Countdown and have been doing freelance artwork since I was a teenager. I love telling stories with my illustrations! Tumblr was where I first got my start as an artist, specifically a small fandom artist as a hobby… and now I’m somehow here! When I’m not trying my best to stay awake in front of my tablets, I’m usually cooking, gaming, or sleeping. Sometimes all three, in my dreams.

Check out our interview with Velinxi below!

Did you originally have a background in art? If not, how did you start?

Yeah! I’ve basically been on track to become an artist since I was a child. I went to a middle school with an emphasis on arts and a high school specializing in it. I went to SVA briefly for computer arts but dropped out to pursue freelance and webcomics after my first year.

Over the years as an artist, what or who were your biggest inspirations behind your creativity?

My biggest inspirations growing up were Yuumei and Shilin Huang, two titans on DeviantArt back in the day. They still inspire me today, but the list of inspirations has grown exponentially over the years, including artists, movies, entire art movements, etc.

What was your thought process behind the creation of your webcomic, Countdown to Countdown?

Well, Countdown to Countdown started as a passion project back when I was 15, in high school, and pretty depressed. I just wanted to draw whatever story I thought was cool, inspired by my favorite media at the time. There was a very loose beginning and outline, but I was truly just writing as I drew the story. That’s why I had to stop the comic in 2018 and restart from scratch the year after. Now, the story has a set story and a clear outline. It still has similar roots, characters, and themes of neglect, abuse, and escape—but I think the story is a lot easier to follow now. It’s got an artstyle I can actually keep up with in the long run. The origin of why CTC exists also remains the same: I simply wanted to make a story I wanted to read for myself. Which happens to be about two dumb boys with superpowers navigating a hostile world that wants them dead or caged—together.

Have you ever had an art block? If so, how did you overcome it?

Oh, all the time. It’s part of the process. Personally, though—I just have to draw through it. Every month on my Patreon, I have my patrons vote on a theme I have to draw by the end of the month, and I try my best to make it as interesting as possible. I draw quite a few—tens even, of doodles or compositions for each of these themes to try to make something that tells a story while still being aesthetically pleasing and clear. I think pushing myself like this helps with art block, really. I also do remember to take breaks and simply consume other media I like! It gets the inspiration juices flowing.

Advice you would give to an aspiring creator?

If you do one—your first webcomic should be a short, fun, messy thing. It’s not often you can get it right the first time, but you’ll certainly learn a lot through sheer experience. This goes for a lot of things in art, to be honest.

What is a medium that you have always been intrigued by but would never use yourself?

3D Animation. I briefly learned it at SVA, and I think that’s enough of that tech for me. I accept that there are some things that are truly beautiful if done right, and I am too simple and lazy for it.

What is your goal for the rest of this year?

Get Countdown to Countdown book 2 finished! And live HAHA

Who on Tumblr inspires you and why?

@yuumei-art on Tumblr, still! They’ve been a huge inspiration for digital artists and storytellers online for years. I have no doubt that many digital artists of my generation have been influenced by them, and they’re still here, making beautiful art and stories. It’s a thing to behold.

Thanks for stopping by, Velinxi! If you haven’t seen her Meet the Artist piece, be sure to check it out here. You can also follow her for more amazing art over at her Tumblr, @velinxi!

#creator spotlight #artists on tumblr #velinxi #xiao tong kong #countdown to countdown

4K notes · View notes

casually-eat-my-soul · 1 day

Text

I keep thinking about jealous pining desperate Stiles and Derek

But like specifically Stiles Seeing Derek kiss someone else.

Stiles goes to visit Derek at his loft and he walks into a scene from a hallmark movie. Derek is kissing some random women under fairy lights to the back drop of a sunset. Stiles feels like someone plunged their hand through his heart and infected with body with ice. He genuinely feels sick to his stomach.

Derek looks down at said person with a soft smile, thinking that this time he can be safe. Before turning and seeing Stiles. They lock eyes and stiles is so visibly distraught. Like in the “where’s my dad scene”. One tear sliding down his face, hands clenched, grasping at his chest as if to rip his heart out.

And Derek knows he fucked up, but he doesn’t know how. All he sees is Stiles in distress and he needs to fix it. Stiles base scent has changed in a split second, now deeply intertwined with misery. He immediately moves from his love interest towards Stiles. But Stiles won’t let Derek comfort him. When Derek grasps his wrists, He tries to pull away.

Stiles is inconsolable at this point, choking on his sobs, barely able to breathe, barely able to see. This only makes Derek more desperate, he’s trying to pull stiles into a hug but Stiles keeps fighting him. Derek’s mind is racing with an explain on why stiles is falling apart in front of him. He thinks of Scott and the sheriff, praying that they are both still alive. He’s now genuinely begging stiles to let him help, to tell him what’s wrong, but stiles keeps pushing Derek away.

Derek’s love interest moves to help but stiles screams when she touches him. In his shock Derek stumbles away from Stiles, but not before ripping her arm off of Stiles.

The room freezes as the both of them are just staring at each other, stiles still sobbing, Derek shaking with adrenaline or fear he doesn’t know. Before Stiles turns and runs out of his loft.

And then nothing is like it used to be. Not like the summer they spent together, not even like the days of when they first met. Stiles is so different with him. Derek can’t remember the last time he saw stiles smile, or his eyes. All he can see is the eyebags that match his own and bitten bloody lips. He barely speaks to Derek and when he does is tone is soft and flat. They no longer banter back and forth with each other exchanging friendly insults. He is a ghost of the stiles that Derek knew.

Stiles doesn’t reach out and touch him anymore, not in camaraderie or comfort. Derek’s skin is devoid of stiles scent. His scent hasn’t changed from that night, now overcome with depression, pain, and tears. But even so Derek would still prefer to carry it with him. Derek feels like he is watching stiles die.

And Derek is ripping his hair out of his skull. He going insane. He has tried to talk to stiles but at meetings Stiles wouldn’t even look at him, and the Stilinski house has been lined with wolfsbane.

He goes to Scott and Lydia for advice, or understanding, fuck at this point he’d even take a stupid riddle. But scott just twists his lips in disappointment while Lydia glares at him with more hatred than she does Peter. Which is really saying something.

Derek is getting more frantic as days pass and nothing changes. It’s starting to affect the pack. The betas are more snappy and uncomfortable. Derek, himself is having a had time keeping his shift under control. Anger isn’t helping, if only it’s making it worse, more feral.

This costs Derek.

One night when the pack is fighting the next big bad. Derek’s sleepless nights and being distracted nearly gets him killed. He only wishes he could go back to that day, he would spend it, from sunrise to sunset with Stiles. Just making him laugh and smile.

The last thing he sees before he collapses is Stiles eyes in the moonlight, glistening with tears, same as that night. Beautiful all the same. But still Derek smiles. He is at peace knowing that this will be the last thing he sees.

But he wakes up, and all he has of stiles is traces of his scent on his skin. Derek roars in anguish. He can feel his betas trying to hold him down, he can hear them screaming but it all fades to white noise. He understands nothing at this current moment but loss. His wolf won’t stop howling.

He doesn’t fight the pull of the wolf, as he falls under his instincts. At the back of his head he knows that the people he is fighting are his pack mate, his own betas. The smell of blood affronts his senses. But nothing can be felt but violent grief.

The wolves in his den are wary and hesitant to fight him, as they should be. He can hear more wolves coming, and the deafening heartbeat of prey. He snarls at the prey that moves closer to him, fulling intending the go for the kill. As he pounces on the prey pressing him to the ground, teeth reaching to sink into his neck, he feels Stiles hands on his chest and he stops. The scent of Stiles is all around him, and Derek presses his face to his neck. Keeping Stiles pinned to the ground.

Thus way stiles cannot escape, cannot leave Derek grappling with the thought of losing him. Another wolf tries to get closer, reaching for stiles but Derek snarls at him. Stiles talks to the wolf, —

“Don’t worry about it Scotty, I got it from here”

“You sure dude?”

“Yeah, take the wonder trio and get out of here. We’re good.”

— as Derek pulls him into his lap, face still pressed into the junction between neck and shoulder. Not even willing to miss even the vibrations of Stiles voice. The wolves leave and Derek can finally relax and enjoy the presence of Stiles.

Derek feels overwhelmed, after weeks of not interacting with Stiles he is now surrounded by him. His hands run through Derek’s hair, his voice floats in the air, his scent finally intermingling with his own. This idea of losing the heat of stiles body pressed against his, makes Derek pull stiles even closer.

He doesn’t know how long they sit together but when he comes out of the fog. Derek breaks. A complete reversal of the night he lost stiles. Derek is crying in ernest, pleading and apologizing over and over again. Stiles is hesitant when he places his hands on Derek cheek. But when Derek leans into it Stiles begins to wipe the tears from his face.

They both face each other with open expressions. Stiles struggles to finds words to explain to Derek but all he can get out is a broken repeat of Derek’s own apology.

Derek felt as if his heart couldn’t know anymore pain, but as Stiles choked out an apology he could feel another piece break. Derek was just relived that stiles was finally letting him comfort him. Derek pressed their foreheads together and took a deep breath. Waiting for stiles to following along with his breathing. When they both calmed down stiles Slumped exhausted into his chest. With a heavy limbs Derek picked him up and carried him to the bed. Derek’s bed.

Neither of them need to speak durning this time. Derek was reluctant to set Stiles down, to let go for even a second. Instead he settled for watching Stiles as they both undressed and fell into the bed. Finally after weeks of sleepless nights, unrest and nightmares, they both full asleep wrapped in each others arms.

Derek refuse to open his eyes when he awakes. Afraid that when he does, Stiles will be gone and this would be a cruel dream. So he keeps them closed even when he hear Stiles breathe hitch. Even as he hears his heartbeat pick up. Even as stiles trails his fingers over Derek’s face. But he does open them as stiles presses a kiss to his lips.

Derek kisses him back just as fiercely. And this leads to teary confessions — “Don’t fucking lie to me Derek please, I can’t take it, don’t fucking kiss me out of pity.”

“Never out of pity, Mi Vida, I never wish to part from you even again, I love you, Mieczyslaw, truly. I can finally breathe again.” — They spend the day in bed, only leaving to eat. Even then they are always touching the other in some way.

After this Scott and Lydia pull Derek aside and threaten him with extreme violence. Peter joyfully welcomes stiles to the family.

(Honestly this was a whole train wreck. I also had another idea/version where this was happening during the nogistune. Where Stiles goes over to Derek’s loft as the darkness around his heart fills heavier that day and he sees Derek kiss someone else. The this is what finally pushes stiles over and allows the nogistune to fully take over. And Derek is forced to listen to the fox gleefully tell him that this action nearly broke Stiles. That while turning feral Derek has to learn that his actions cost him another person he loves. That because of this stiles and Derek are turning into twisted version of themselves. But honestly a fox should have never underestimated how far a wolf would go for their mate)

My bad for the long post but if you made it to the end, welcome to the trenches and suffering in the misery with me.

#sterek #stiles stilinski #derek hale #stiles x derek #when stiles pines for Derek it’s in such a gut wrenching way #I don’t know how to explain it but like bratty depressed stiles #Derek went three hours without stiles and his brain broke and went insane #the betas were genuinely considering putting him in Eichen House #man was genuinely tweaking #they both were so miserable #Derek was so close to either ripping out his own heart or kidnapping stiles to get him to talk to him #derek x stiles #derek hale is obsessed with him #teen wolf #the way I frantically write this all out in one go and couldn’t stop until I finished #wtf #freak4freak

118 notes · View notes

tonysbed · 4 months

Text

Pink skies | MV1

Max verstappen x fem!reader

Summary: Max comforts you during grief

warnings: mention of death, angst, depression?

a/n: I’m putting this into the mental health masterlist because grief definitely brought me to my limits in that part. Just remember, grief is proof of love:)

Also writing a Charles Grief comfort rn :))

(listened to pink skies by zach bryan while writing)

mental health masterlist | main masterlist

Max knew they were dying. You had told him. He knew how much it would break you so he tried his best to be there. He hoped it would happen while he was there for you.

You were sitting on the couch, leaning against Max’s shoulder when your phone rang. You looked over and left out a sigh. You knew why that call was coming in.

You picked up and Max watched you. He watched your eyes tear up, hands shaking and your lower lip trembling. The moment you hung up he pulled you into his lap.

He rocked you in his arms, trying to soothe you at least a bit. He knew he couldn’t do much, Grief being something that not even he could defeat.

You just clung to his sweater, crying and hurting. His fingers gently combed your hair while the other hand was strocking your back.

“It’s gonna be okay” He whispered, knowing it will take time but it will be alright. You will be alright.

The funeral wasn’t any better for you. They always hurt but front rows change everything. Your hand was tightly wrapped in max’s. You bit back tears, not wanting to cry the whole time.

It felt like everything was ripped away from you, leaving you falling down a black hole that never ended. The funeral was beautiful but hurtful. But it made the start of grief. This was the point you would truly realise they were gone.

You stayed at their grave after everyone went home, Max standing shortly behind you, patiently waiting for you to be ready to leave.

Cause in the end, he’d catch you in that black hole. He’ll give you strength to overcome all the pain and gives you a place to store all that overflowing love that comes with grief. And he’d gladly take it.

A/n: I really don’t like this. Tried to write down my experience but yeah..Also tried to keep it natural on the person who died. My heart is with everyone grieving rn. I know it hurts and it will forever but we’ll be okay.

This is also so short i’m sorry.

#max verstappen x reader #max verstappen angst #max verstappen fluff #formula one imagine #dealing with grief #grief

174 notes · View notes

whateverisbeautiful · 2 months

Text

♥️Reveling in Richonne - TOWL

#8: The Last Letter (1.01)

gif cred: @vidco

Rick's 'last' letter to Michonne made my heart break into a million pieces. It was beautiful and devastating and also a major testament to the way Richonne’s love was the pulse of Rick’s life and without Michonne, that pulse essentially came to a stop 😢...

But backtracking a bit, after that powerfully acted scene between Rick and Okafor, Rick sits alone in his apartment with a drink as he stares out the window and again looks like he loathes the window's constant reminder that he’s stuck far from home.

I just know whenever Rick comes back to that cold bare apartment he would so rather come home to a home with toys on the ground, paintings on the fridge, his wife’s cat statue on the mantle - any signs that his home is the home of his family. The apartment reflects his emptiness and it’s clear he resents being here stripped of being a husband and father which is what he loved being more than anything.

This scene also always makes me think perhaps on this very night, an adorable little boy with Rick’s good kind heart is sitting at a dinner table asking the love of Rick’s life for more tomatoes, while Rick is forced to sit in this apartment alone, looking fine and depressed with just a drink to nurse his woes. He should be at those family dinners right now with Michonne, RJ, and Judith. The CRM has to burn for taking this from him. 😞

Rick, clearly a little buzzed from his drink is about to get up when Pearl urgently enters. And she enters without knocking to which I was like Thorne, ma'am…

She tells Rick to turn on the TV and they see that Omaha has been destroyed. Pearl is understandably overcome by this news.

She then expresses a lot of belief in the CRM and their secrets and how the CRM is the answer to creating a future and Rick looks up at her sorta just checked out. You can tell it's difficult for him to be present at this moment after his whole hope of going home has been completely crushed by the previous Okafor exchange.

gif cred: @clonecaptains

Pearl gives him more info about the little girl that he saved and then she says, “You and me and that girl…we all want to be somewhere else with someone else” and Rick again has a quiet emotional reaction as he turns away from her with tears in his eyes. Bringing up Michonne & Judith with these CRM people is always a sensitive thing for him.

Pearl adds, “But we got stuck in the right place” and Rick doesn’t look at her but tilts his head and reacts like he clearly disagrees with that assessment. If this place doesn’t have Michonne and Judith it can never be the right place.

She then says Rick is gonna see that this was for the best someday and she says she’s not sorry she stopped him, stating, “I’m not sorry I saved your life, even when you didn’t want it to be saved.”

gif cred: @twdfranchise

And the way Rick looks at her. He has this weary smile as he lets her know point blank, “You didn’t save my life.” First, he’s like don’t be taking credit for Michonne’s work lol. Michonne truly saved his life and every one of his kids' lives. She's the one who brought Rick back time and time again.

Also I think Rick feels like if I can’t go home then I don’t have a life to live really, let alone a life to save.

gif cred: @twdfranchise

It seems the way Rick sees it, Pearl just helped play a part in keeping him stuck here permanently.

And it’s super interesting how he delivers all this with a drained smile because I think he knows what he’s contemplating right now and is pretty resolved to go through with it. Almost like he’s coming to terms with the fact that he doesn’t plan on living much longer so Pearl didn’t save his life because he’s seriously considering taking it after enduring such painful hopeless circumstances.

But Pearl begs to differ saying, “Yes I did.” She takes a sip of Rick’s drink without asking and then breaks the glass on his floor which again…imma need her to chill throwing glasses around Rick. Idc if it’s your schtick, Pearl, it’s a hazard.

gif cred: @twdfranchise

Before leaving Pearl says, “At least there’s one more good man in the world, hmm? One more good man to try and save the world…whether he wants to or not.” This was Rick getting yet another reminder that even though he doesn't want power, power wants him.

gif cred: @twdfranchise

Pearl leaves and we’re brought back to the teaser moment as Rick sits alone and nears ending it all by his own hand. Which I’ve discussed this scene in the first TOWL post, but just to add - now knowing the exact circumstances that led him to this point, when he looks out the window and at the drawing of Michonne it just feels like he’s thinking 'I really won’t ever see her again outside of these sketches.' 🥺

Like he had probably fought so hard to never even entertain the idea of not seeing Michonne again because, like his wife, he too tries to not fantasize about failing. But now, that very possible reality of never seeing her again has sunk in and it's killing him.

gif cred: @vidco

And as he stares out the window at the view of the city that he hates, he seems to be accepting that this might be the last view he has.

This city that’s supposed to promise its residents a new life is the very reason Rick wants to take his. 😞

With the glass shard from the cup Pearl threw placed to his neck, Rick then has flashes of memories from his childhood home burning and, while we don’t know it at this time, it becomes clear these memories popped into his head at this moment because it’s a reminder of the sacrifice his dad made for their family.

And now Rick is going to make the ultimate sacrifice for his family. Deciding to stay alive to save the world for his girls all while feeling dead inside without them.

source: myobsessionsspace

So then begins Rick’s last soul-crushing letter to Michonne. 💔

The scene cuts to Rick waking up alone in bed for his first official day as the walking dead. It says a lot about Rick’s resilience that it took five years before he ever became this broken.

But he’s only human and can only take so much (especially without the family that fuels him) and so now he’s arrived at what he believes is the point of no return, no returning home that is. And as he wakes in this bed, you just know he’d give anything to return to the mornings when he’d wake up to his arms wrapped around Michonne.

Rick says, “I thought about ending it. Just stopping it all.” And I think it’s moving how he even wanted Michonne to know the darkest places he went to. Like she gets access to even his suicidal thoughts. He says, “But then…then it would all just be for nothing, wouldn’t it?” I like that he poses it as a question, even if rhetorical. He knows Michonne would say the answer is yes and would be so glad he didn’t go through with it.

gif cred: @nobleriver

Also, the survivor and protector in him wouldn’t let him go through with it because if he can in someway still save his girls from afar he’s going to try.

He says, “All of it for nothing. I couldn’t do it” and Rick’s face and the vulnerable delivery and breathing within this letter is so well executed and just makes my heart ache.

We see him writing the letter and I really like the detail of him having a ton of pages ripped out of the notebook. It goes to show he’s been writing a whole bunch to Michonne over the years.

Then we enter the depths of despair with Rick as he says, “But I still decided to die. I’ve been writing you letters the whole time. Reaching out to feel something. Writing just to imagine you could read them.” Ok I’m crying. 😭 Like that’s so beautiful and painful and I appreciate that Rick is so aware that connecting with Michonne in any way possible is the only way he can feel alive here.

gif cred: @taiturner

Seeing him write in that chair with his hand missing, just knowing he’s been through so much hardship and pain alone...y’all it’s too much. 😭

When Rick says, “This is my last one, the last letter I write to you that you’ll never see” the first time I heard it and every time after my heart just drops. I was shattered because this was him feeling forced to close the door on her and him in a way I’d never want to see. 🥺 Had me fully like...

After that Okafor exchange, Rick has finally accepted that all his hope of telling Michonne all this in person one day might be futile.

It’s also very poignant to have this letter occur over a montage of Rick restoring an office and moving up the ranks. As he declutters the conference room and becomes more involved in the CRM machine, he’s building things for them and bringing their vision to life while he himself dies inside. It’s a tragic and impactful contrast.

Then Rick says what he’ll say a total of three times throughout this one letter - “I love you.” 🥺

I adore hearing him tell her 'I love you,' especially while under these sorrowful circumstances. He says it so certain, like it’s something he knows will never change nor fade even if he has to be dead now and give up on seeing her.

gif cred: @candiedblue

Something I’ve said in many of my posts is all versions of Rick love Michonne. It’s just the truth. And even Dead Rick - the Rick who has had to shut himself off and feel nothing to survive as the walking dead - even he still loves Michonne. In fact, it’s like now all he is is love for her and their daughter and there’s no other part of his humanity he entertains or recognizes anymore.

By saying 'I love you' at this moment it’s him saying even tho this is the last letter, it’s not at all because he doesn’t love her. In actuality, it’s the last letter because he loves her so passionately that if he doesn’t kill the parts of himself that long to escape and be with her then he knows he’ll always try to get to her and he believes that will only put her in danger. So in a way, like Okafor, he too had to kill the idea of being with his wife. But even so, he still wants Michonne to know over and over that he still loves her.

Rick says, “I don’t see the dead anymore or the ones I lost.” This will come into play big time in the immaculate fourth episode. And it’s such a traumatizing thing to realize you don’t see anyone you love anymore. That would make you lose yourself entirely. 😞 So Rick's super forlorn, I'm super verklempt, it's a lot. And the letter only grows more devastating as it goes on.

The most painful part of this letter for me is when Rick devastatingly says he also doesn’t see the sun, the sky, or the water and “I don’t see you anymore.” 😭😭😭😭

The way he says that. 😥 The way his voice breaks just a bit saying 'anymore,' knowing that it was seeing Michonne that was keeping him going before this. 🥺

So many of us have always said that when Rick looks at Michonne he sees the sun, the moon, and the stars, and his whole universe. And sure enough, Rick confirms that here by saying if he can’t see her anymore he literally can’t see anything anymore - no sunlight to lead the way, no sky to reach new horizons, no water to cleanse the pain.

He can’t see any of those things in nature because it was Michonne who lit his path like the sun, who made him rise up higher than the sky, who washed away his fears and pain and replaced it with hope and joy. Their love was an electrifying life source and without her, he can't live and the whole world goes dark.

And I firmly believe that this is such an accurate in-character response from Rick. Like this isn’t something he’s saying because TOWL is an epic love story so they have to dramatically play up their romance and yearning - no this is truly how deep Richonne’s love goes and has always gone, to the point that Rick could see his entire world fade to black without the hope of having her in it.

gif cred: @perryabbott

Rick says, “I just see what’s ahead” and when his voice breaks as he says this it feels like his heart is breaking finally accepting that being with her is no longer what’s ahead. Now what’s ahead is far more cold and bleak as he says, “metal rotors, and gun oil and blood.” The beauty of nature replaced with the dark lifeless things of this apocalypse.

It’s interesting because you’d think when the world ended and turned into an apocalypse all those years ago, that’s when all you’d see ahead is blood and guns. But Richonne and their family managed to carve out such a beautiful life that it wasn’t until Rick lost them that he stopped seeing the good and beauty in the apocalyptic world.

And my heart melts over how this implies that part of why Rick could still see the sun, sky, water, and beauty in the world all those years ago was because he was with Michonne.

Rick goes on saying that all he sees is “What I have to do, what I can do to help save the world even if you never know I did that.” An ultimate act of sacrifice.

And then the greatest loverboy to ever walk the earth says, “I love you so much. I love you so so much.” And what I love so so much is the way he has to tell her this and emphasize it. 😭 Like you can just feel that as Rick writes this last letter he’s still so overcome with love for her and all he wants is to let Michonne know she still has his entire heart. Even the dead version of his heart is hers.

I'll forever adore hearing this. It made me think about how we went from being so eager to hear Rick say I love you just once in TWD to now hearing him say it three times in one letter in the first ep of this miniseries. TOWL is a blessing in every way. And the way he repeats it in this letter it really feels like he could say 'i love you' 100 times and he wouldn’t feel like it was enough to convey all the love he has for her.

Rick burns the phones and letters as he tells Michonne he loves her so much. And seeing him burn those, I was like...

One; I wanted Rick to still be able to keep those phones just to have some bit of his girls with him. And two; I was like Rick, your wife is on her way to save you and I want her to have the chance to read all your letters like you hoped she would. Like I really wanted Michonne to be able to read those letters one day - especially because, while she'll later say it in a moment of tension, Rick really is a great writer. 😊

This last letter right here would have Shakespeare applauding Rick. Even tho maybe it's good Michonne never got this letter because it would be absolutely heartbreaking for her to read. But I just love that Rick earnestly and honestly pours his heart out to Michonne so romantically in words. This was yearning at its strongest.

But Rick burns these items because he believes he has to burn this hope of being with them for their sake. Plus, these phones and letters are essentially what got him “caught” by Okafor in a way so he’s getting rid of the rest to not risk any more exposure again. But also, these phones are what got Michonne to realize Rick is alive so they did more good than damage.

gif cred: @nerd4music

As he burns the phones and letters it’s Rick following his dad and grandpa's footsteps and adopting the mindset that sometimes it's for the best to die and live and it’s an act of protection to let things burn, no matter how painful the sacrifice. And honestly, this is a huge act of love from Rick because he’s literally dying for his wife and daughter. Ending his life to save theirs - something he's always been willing to do as evidenced by the bridge sacrifice.

And as fire is one of the most prominent motifs in TOWL, I really like the theme of it for its duality. Fire both cleanses and destroys and Rick will wrestle with figuring out which one he does on this TOWL journey.

The most heartbreaking letter in history then concludes with Rick saying, “I tried. Please just know I tried.” as he stares into the fire, watching the flames burn away the last few parts of the Rick he once knew.

He so longs for Michonne to know just two things: 1) he loves her with everything in him and 2) he tried as hard as he could for her.

But as hard as he tried, things just haven’t worked out so he ends the letter saying one more time in a broken whisper “I tried…but I failed.” And well if TOWL wanted to shatter my heart then mission accomplished because this letter never fails to break me. By the end of this letter Rick and I were in the same boat because I was watching like...

It’s hard enough to know Rick decided to die while still alive. Like that’s such a painful choice. Especially because choosing to die is different than choosing to become numb imo. You can still technically 'feel' numbness, but when you decide to live but die, you stop feeling anything, not even numbness. You shut off your humanness just to get through the pain.

And since our humanness switch is never meant to be turned off it’s no easy feat to turn it back on. Speaking from experience, once you shut off that switch, sure you stop feeling the pain but you stop feeling everything else too and it takes time and a lot of love to turn it back on. Like even love almost becomes a 'concept' more than a feeling because you're so alienated from having love in your life.

Fortunately, the woman who loves Rick more than he’s ever been loved is on her way to love him back to life. And thank goodness, because Rick needs Michonne desperately.

But then on top of all this, the aspect that makes this last line of the letter so heartrending is Rick didn’t just die but feels he died a failure.

Every day that Rick struggled to break free and had to live knowing his wife and daughter were out there and he couldn’t hold them, protect them, or love them added such a painful layer to his sense of failure. And it’s heartbreaking to hear his final letter conclude not by saying he tried but just couldn’t escape the oppressive CRM, but rather “I tried, but I failed.” It gives us insight into how much Rick’s mindset is that he is the cause of the failure.

He thinks this is on him and feels he’s let them down. He didn’t just ‘die’ disappointed, he thinks he ‘died’ a failure even despite really being a victim of his circumstances. And when I tell you that breaks my heart. It really really does. 💔

And now Rick just has to live dead and thinking he fell short of the one thing he thought he’d never fall short of which is finding his way back to his family.

That has to change him on a foundational level -thinking he’s failed and let his family down by not being able to overcome the CRM and get to them. I hate that he had to carry that false thought that he’s a failure for so long.

This letter also shows that Rick is the literal embodiment of loving his wife more than life itself. He feels there is no version of him that can be alive without her so he has to die. And even dead, he knows he'll still always love Michonne which makes this outcome a punishment worse than death because at least in death you don't have to be aware of your loss. 😞

But let me stop here because...

I'll conclude by saying - Rick's last letter was painfully beautiful and tragically romantic. I love that his love for Michonne makes him want to write poetry and prose about how he feels about her and how much she means. I get it because Richonne’s love has me writing for days too. 😇

After this letter, I so needed a reminder of the light at the end of this super dark tunnel and once again, Rick’s dreams came to the rescue to deliver in all ways. 🙌🏽

I mean this next scene delivered Richonne, it delivered gorgeous chemistry, and also it delivered pizza and a ‘proposal’ so naturally it’s my favorite scene of the episode. 😊👌🏽

#richonne #towl #reveling in richonne #1.01 #RIR (8)#the ones who live #twd towl #michonne grimes #rick grimes #rick x michonne #twol #michonne #rick and michonne #twd: the ones who live #twd #richonnefandom

81 notes · View notes