#SORROW IS OVERFLOWING OUT OF MY HEART AND IM ABOUT TO CRY

[hacksawboy]

aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa (the name of the song im listening to rn)(yes really)(its a vocaloid song)

[come-on-shitty-boys]

//forgotten kisses. oikawa tooru//

Request: Hey!hey!hey! Im not quite sure if you write scenarios but my blood boils everytime i know that oikawa ex gf dumped him because of passion, so i was wondering if u could write a scenario where the reader interrupts the moment where this girl who is breaking up with him and telling her that she was a fake girlfriend and it was his passion what made the reader fall in love with him, right in front of oikawa as well. I rlly wanna know his reaction to this. Ofc the reader having a long crush over him. 

Warnings: self-doubt

Word Count: 1.9K

Notes: it is free coffee day at dunkin donuts and when i tell you that i’m h y p e d for this large iced vanilla coffee later 

It hurt like hell to watch him go about his everyday life, her clung onto his arm, you walking just a few steps behind, Iwaizumi next to you, mournful eyes staring at you, the forgotten girl.  It had been a trio made in heaven, one that had never strayed too far apart since middle school.  There would be sleepovers and movie nights and volleyball games with you and your boys, your own personal protectors, your best friends.  You had grown up right alongside them, battling through your awkward young teenage years filled with acne and laughing at their cracking voices, but as the time passed feelings started to bubble up in the pit of your stomach and no amount of pushing them back down could hide them.  

Oikawa Tooru was everything you could ever want in a boyfriend.  He was kind and doting, always the first person to ask you how your day was and the first person to offer you a shoulder and a pint of ice cream whenever you were upset.  His good morning and good night texts could have your heart fluttering with only a few words followed by a colon and a parenthesis.  He knew exactly how to make you laugh and there was no one who knew all of your ticklish spots quite like he did.  Your sides would be hurting as your voice strained with giggles and your lungs gasped for a desperate breath as you squirmed beneath him, his fingers wiggling over your sides in payback for making fun of him.

Iwaizumi had stood by the whole time, just rolling his eyes, but the soft smile on his face was hard to miss as he regarded a young love blossoming right before him.  The perfect middle man, Oikawa spilling all of his feelings out in long-winded paragraphs towards the ace, you carrying on during hour long phone calls, Iwaizumi had all of the information, feeding it to the other, trying his very best to make all of the dreams a reality.  

It was because of him that a kiss had been stolen outside of the gymnasium after Tooru’s very first official match.  It had been short and awkward, faces both warm to the touch as the embarrassment creeped up your cheeks.  First kisses were shared and everything seemed so perfect.  Everything should’ve fallen into place and it should’ve been the start to something beautiful between you and the prince of Aoba Johsai.  

But, constant volleyball practices and late teenage years had done wonders to your childhood friend.  He had lost the plumpness in his face and his physique had toned nicely.  He had always been popular with the girls but, this was a whole new level.  They were flocking him no matter where he went, leaving him love notes on his classroom desk, bringing his desserts and handmade bentos at lunch.  You were simply pushed to the back burner, forgotten to fade into the background while someone else caught his eye. And for the first time in your life, Iwaizumi Hajime was the first to offer you a shoulder to cry on and a pint of ice cream to soothe your sorrows.  

It had been five months since Oikawa had fully forgotten everything that the two of you had shared.  Five months since he let her into your little inner circle.  But it had two months since you had seen him willing to light up a room with his charming smile that could get everyone around him smiling in a matter of seconds.  There was a tense strain between the young couple, one that was absent to most outside onlookers but to the people who knew the beloved Seijoh captain best, there was no mistaking that tired look in his eyes and the forced smile that came with every, “I promise.  I’m fine.”  

Her lips were always pressed together in a tight line, loosening only enough to let all of those cursed sentiments flit off of her tongue.  “You don’t love me.  You only care about volleyball and that’s all you’ll ever care about.” 

Sentiments that would be chased with pleading eyes and desperate words, asking for a second chance, a promise for change, affirmation of the impossible.  Everyone who really knew Oikawa Tooru knew that volleyball was his passion and everyone who really knew Oikawa Tooru accepted that as part of who he was.  He was encouraged and praised for overcoming strife on the court only to be torn down piece by bitter piece the minute he stepped away from his safe haven.  It was painful to watch as each passing day tore the Oikawa that you had watched grow slip further and further out of your grasp, and further away from the Oikawa that had smashed his lips against yours in a fit of passion outside of this very same gymnasium two years prior.

“Tooru, I can’t do this anymore.  I’m not going to be second to some stupid sport anymore!  I deserve better and I’m tired of you telling me that you’re going to change and yet, you never do.  You are so absorbed in volleyball that you can’t even see that our relationship is falling apart,” she spits, flailing her arms in frustration as the Seijoh setter stands shocked at the sudden outburst. 

“You aren’t second and you never were.  I love you, but I don’t know what more you’re expecting me to do!  I could be something in the volleyball world, but not if y-”

“Be something?” She laughed, shaking her head in dismay.  “You are nothing but a high school third year who has slightly more talent than most.  You can’t even win this tournament and you really expect me to believe that you could go pro?  It’s time to grow up, Tooru.  Volleyball just isn’t the life that was meant for you and it’s time for you to see that.  So, you have a choice:  you can keep living out this fantasy and continue telling yourself that there’s hope and that you can play for the Japan team someday, or you can get your head out of the clouds and join me in the real world.  Those are your options.”

“What are you saying?” Oikawa’s usually strong voice falls into a shake, a quieter, meeker version of himself that you haven’t witnessed in many years.  It was as if he was sinking into himself, becoming a shell of the boy who had stolen your heart all those years ago.  

“It’s me or volleyball.”

His mouth sputtered open, incapable of finding the right words to say, unsure if the right words even existed in this situation.  Keep this girl that he loved and cared for or pursue his one true passion?  In the moment, in his love-blind youth, there was no good outcome and the sad scoff that left the girl in front of him nearly had his heart shattering into a hundred thousand pieces right there in the middle of the sidewalk as people slowed their pace as they berthed around them, ears prying to pick up any of the drama.  

“I get it.  Thanks for nothing, Oikawa.” She shakes her head, turning away from the captain who had already faced one great loss that day and now, he was left sorting through the aftermath of another. 

His head sank down to stare steadily at the concrete and for the first time that day, he let the tears sting his eyes and flow freely down his cheeks, his heart aching at a failed high school romance and an unaccomplished goal.  And for the first time in a long time, he confided in your embrace when you approached him with arms wide open.  Your hand found his hair, lacing the chestnut strands through your fingers, a comforting feeling that he never even knew he missed until then.  His arms wrapped around your midsection, face buried into the crook of your neck as if you were the safest place in the world at that moment in time.  You could hear his sniffles as he tried his best to choke back the ugly sobs of heartache, the ones that he knew you would tease him about once you knew that he was okay.  

Minutes passed before Oikawa finally pulled away from you, eyes and nose tinged red from his still very apparent sorrows.  Glistens of fresh tears still stained his cheeks and the brief hiccups of sobs would still have his voice and body quivering.  “She’s right.  I can’t even beat a stupid first year.  How the hell am I meant to play professionally if I can’t even win this bullshit high school tournament?”

Your hand rested gently against the side of his face, letting your thumb whisk a fresh tear away from his cheek.  “You don’t actually believe that, Tooru.  This is what you love and this is what you want to do for the rest of your life and she had no right to say those things to you.  I know that you can do it.  Tooru, I have been in your corner since the very first day I met you.  Even if no one else will, I’m going to support you, because I believe in you, okay?  You are so much more than some self-absorbed volleyball player.  You are Oikawa Tooru, Seijoh’s remarkable setter and captain, my best friend since junior high, my first kiss and the one that I told everything to for as long as I can remember, and more than anything you are Japan’s future professional setter.”  You take a shaky breath, every ounce of future regret coursing through your veins, but there was something almost magnetic pulling you towards him.  Maybe it was years of love that had been pushed away finally overflowing, desperate to be noticed or maybe it was just all of the heightened emotions of the day that had you gently easing his face down to yours.  

It was in front of that very same gymnasium where you and Oikawa Tooru shared your second kiss.  This one is less awkward and less sloppy than the first.  The flutter of butterflies still danced in your stomachs and your ears still burned with the heat of embarrassment at such a public display, but for a brief moment, it was just you and him, locked within your own little world, sharing kisses that were long overdue for the forgotten girl and her prince of the school.

{Taglist: @moncymonce​ @nicka-nell​}

[collidewandromeda]

5/25/21

…the moments, the hours, the days-they trickle past me like so much water and now start to cumulate into years, burying me neck deep under so much sorrow- and still, pulling me down faster than quicksand. I have no right to these emotions, yet i feel them all the same. the same as they've been for 7 years. the same ache, the same longing-the same sharp pain in my chest that feels as though someone has removed my own heart from behind my ribcage without me even knowing until it was too late-until it was already gone. I cry and bargain with the air above me to take this ache out of me, to take away all this pain-but i have such a strong and definitive feeling that this is something i will carry with me for as long as i live. i had the chance, the greatest chance over and over, i held love in my hand and it stared back up at me, warm and welcoming and with a promise that it would never be scared away, that it would be there no matter what happened. that it would endure. but the warm is gone from my palm and the only thing i can feel is this huge empty place inside me where something beautiful once lived. and those times, those times where it was alive- i read back old letters and i see the words and what they say and their promises and their hope and it shatters me into a million pieces again and again and again. but no matter how much it kills me, i keep reading them...i read them again and again and i stare dumbfounded and angry and sorrowful and...confused...confused on how something with that much love and that much passion could just evaporate into the air like it never even existed. but i dont want to stop reading them. because they are full of the precious moments i will never again be able to relive-they are beautiful, overflowing with love and comfort and- excitement. i read the words that i wont ever get to hear again, i read them over and over i try to convince myself that eventually this feeling will have to go away....it has to...i have to find a way to live around it. i cant continue being this pathetic, so weak, so small...so small and powerless.

but every night- when i cry- when, into the darkness i ask someone, anyone, god? the universe? is there anyone out there? i cry out and i beg for one more chance, even knowing that its impossible i cry and i beg that maybe somehow, someway i could have even just five minutes to hold her.........it makes me tremble...so tangible a feeling is the absence of something that was once there. i know that its been so long, and i really should have been moved on by now...but my heart refuses to detach and mind wont even entertain ideas of leaving, walking away, or even being with someone else...how could i even do it? even if i wanted to? i know that a time will come when i cant answer every call or text or im with someone and i like them maybe? and i would have to chose, and i already know what the answer is-there was never a choice to begin with. her friendship is so special to me and precious- i cant lose it. and ive spent months and months trying to just be a normal person. trying to become somone that people love, someone that makes people feel loved. ive worked hard through some things, and i figured some things out on my own...because i want her to know that i was always listening when she told me the things that i needed to fix, and i wasnt strong before...i was weak and i was the very reason that everything even started falling apart. but i couldnt do it then, i kept doing the same things over and over i guess, or i would be crazy and i was blinded by emotions and too impulsive and too everything! my fucked up mind reacted to things in ways that ended up leading to so many self sabotages that i couldnt even try to count them all. i have caused all this pain on myself. i should have done better, i should have fixed the problems before it was too late, i wish that i would have been strong enough back then to be able to change the ways im all messed up. i know that i wasnt perfect at all- and honestly i do know that i can be difficult and hard to communicate with sometimes...i know that if i could go back in time i would go back and make sure that there was no pain caused by me. i have changed, ive grown...and now i get to look back and be horrified at that person, that girl i was a couple years ago. but- i have worked everyday, in small ways and in big ways. im still not perfect, i make mistakes, im scared of some things, and i really do cry so awfully easily. but im still working on myself, trying to become someone that at the very least she would be happy to see or that she would believe in me, and trust me.

she is-she is strikingly beautiful, charismatic, highly intelligent, empathic, caring, loving-she is really good at loving people-she is, clever and witty and she is most definitely--Bold.

...well, i think maybe writing this out and seeing the words come together has made me think a lot about her, our friendship and everything and from every way its manifested into our lives, a coworker, a friend, a best-friend, a lover, soulmates, sisters...i hope she knows how much she is loved, and how that love is worth enduring anything to find it.

[thetravelerwrites]

Daughters (A Stranger Things Drabble)

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Fandom: Stranger Things Words: 1855

One of my few non-terato related stories, about a year and a half old. This is a stand alone fic about Hopper showing Eleven the birth certificate from Dr. Owens and explaining what it means. Hopper opens up about his lost daughter, Sara. Feedback is appreciated.

Eleven sat on the couch covered in a thick blanket, watching a particularly old western that made very little sense to her, when she heard the special knock on the door.

Without taking her eyes off of the T.V., she reached out mentally and snapped open the four slide locks and the deadbolt with little effort. She heard Hopper enter the cabin, tap his boots against the door frame, and shut the door, though she didn’t turn to look at him. He had gone on his off-day without telling her why, and that, in her experience, was never a good thing. She was a little apprehensive to learn what exactly he’d been up to while he was away.

He stepped around the couch to turn the T.V. off and then sat down beside her, laying two envelopes on the coffee table. One was slim and white, and the second was big, brown, and overflowing.

“What’s that?” Eleven asked, nodding her head at them.

He didn’t answer right away. He sat hunched forward with his elbows on his knees, rubbing his mustache with his right hand, looking down at the brown envelope.

“I went to see Dr. Owens today,” Hopper mumbled from behind his hand.

Eleven’s heart rate accelerated in alarm.

“Bad man,” Eleven said in a nervous whisper.

“Nah, he ain’t all bad,” Hopper said. “He had something for me. Well, it’s for both of us, actually.” He reached for the white envelope and handed it to her. She took it gingerly.

Opening it, she pulled out a blue paper with writing she didn’t understand. “‘Cert…certificate of birth?’ What does that mean?”

“It’s a paper the parents get when a baby is born. Then when that baby gets old enough, they keep it. It’s proof.”

“Proof of what?”

“Life. Existence.” Hopper turned to her. “It shows who your parents are, where you came from.“ He pointed. “It’s also got a social security number.”

“What’s that for?”

“In American, you have to have a social security number to do just about anything. Go to school, get a job, etc. That number is your whole life.”

She frowned at the digits on the page, then the ones on her arm. “Another number.”

“Yeah,” Hopper laughed. “We all got ‘em, kid. I guess most of us are lucky that it’s not our name, too.” He jerked his chin at the paper. “Keep reading.”

“‘This certifies that in the state of Indiana, Jane Hop…’” She looked up at him. “Hopper?”

He nodded solemnly.

“‘Was born in Hawkins, child of Teresa Ives, Mother, and James Hopper… Father.” She looked back at him and lowered the paper, though still clutched it in her fingers. “I don’t understand. What does this mean?”

“Means it’s official,” Hopper said. “We’re family. You’re kinda stuck with me now. Sorry ‘bout that.”

She shook her head, but didn’t say anything. She was feeling a lot of things she hadn’t experienced before and couldn’t properly name, and was having difficulty sorting through them. She stared hard at the paper for a few minutes. Hopper watched her quietly; he seemed to be giving her space to process all this and room to react. Perhaps preparing for a storm, if she wasn’t happy about the arrangement.

After a few minutes, she folded the paper again and gave it back, which he placed on the table next to the large brown envelope.

“What is that?” She asked.

Again, he didn’t answer immediately, and when he did, it was with a very heavy sigh.

“Well... since we’re family now, I figured I should introduce you two.”

He reached into the brown envelope and pulling out everything that was inside it. There were drawings, old elementary work sheets, coloring pages, but most of it was pictures. Sifting through, he extracted a photograph of a small, blonde-haired, blue-eyed child, wearing a frilly blue dress, smiling widely. Her curly hair was pulled up into two pigtails with aqua blue bands.

“Is that Sara?” Eleven asked tentatively.

Hopper nodded. “This was her first grade class photo. Just a month or two before everything went to shit.” He found another photo, in this one, Hopper was sitting with Sara and a blonde haired, blue-eyed woman who strongly resembled Sara. Hopper was clean-shaven in the picture, and they were all smiling.

Eleven pointed to the woman.

“That’s Diane,” Hopper said. “We were married. Then Sara died. Then we weren’t married anymore.”

“Why?”

“My fault mostly,” Hopper said, staring at the picture. “She wanted to move on, try and get her life back, but I couldn’t let go. I started drinkin’, lost my job because I stopped showing up, all kinds of things that she quite understandably didn’t want to deal with. I wouldn’t have wanted to deal with me, either.”

“Where is she?”

“Philadelphia. She got remarried a few years ago, had herself a new little baby boy. She’s doing good. She’s happy.”

He reached into the pile of papers and drew out another certificate, like the one Hopper got from Owens, but from a different state. The name on the top line was “Sara.”

“She’d be your sister,” He said, staring at the type font as though he couldn’t see anything else. “She’d have loved a sister.”

The emotions that had been swirling in Eleven’s body had settled, and of the remaining ones, the most prominent was sorrow. “What was she like?”

Hopper’s chin shook, and she thought he might not be able to talk about it, but he said, “She was so smart. Smarter than me. Got it from her mom, I guess. She’s so interested in science and space and all that stuff.” He plucked at the aqua blue bracelet around his wrist. A tear fell from his eye and disappeared into his beard.

“She was gonna grow up to be a paleontologist and also an astronaut doctor. Not an astronaut that was also a doctor, a doctor that only treated astronauts.“ He smiled. “She was gonna have thirty kids, but she wasn’t gonna get married cause boys were gross. She was going to do so many things.” More tears fell, and he wiped his nose on his sleeve. “She never got the chance to do anything.”

Emotions can be infectious, especially when the person exhibiting them was so stoic and self-contained ordinarily. Eleven could feel tears on her own cheeks as Hopper spoke.

“Her birthday was April 17th,” He said. “She would have been seven if she had made it that long. She nearly made it.” The tears were falling freely now. He didn’t even attempt to wipe them away. Eleven wondered if he had ever said these things to anyone. She knew vaguely that most people in town didn’t even know he had had a daughter.

“A few months after, I came home and Diane was packing up Sara’s room. Just pulling down everything and stuffing it into boxes. I asked what she was doing… and she said she was donating it. That she couldn’t stand looking at it all every day. And I got so… angry. It was like she was just throwing her away and I couldn’t believe she could do that. I over-did it a little; I yelled a lot, started throwing things. That’s when she kicked me out for the last time. That,” He pointed to the pile. “Was all I managed to save. That’s all that’s left of Sara.

“Well,” He said, “That and this.” He pulled the bracelet off of his wrist and toyed with it a little. ”She used to wear these stretchy blue hair bands, like, every day. She had all kinds of different bows and hair things she could’ve worn, but she always wanted these.

“One day, while she was on chemo, she pulled them out so she could take a bath, and all her hair came with them. After that, she couldn’t wear them anymore. I was going to throw them away, but she made them into a little bracelet and had me wear it. She said she wanted to save them for when her hair grew back.”

His face crumpled. Holding the little blue bracelet in both hands, he pressed it against his forehead and wept.

Eleven pulled herself up to her knees and hugged Hopper around the shoulders, crying into his neck. They stayed that way for some time.

When Eleven drew back, inexplicably, the blue bracelet was now circling her wrist. She looked at Hopper questioningly as she reached to pull it off.

He stopped her. “No, you should have it,” He said. “She’d want you to have it. I want you to have it, too. We’re family now.”

She smiled and her lip quivered. She nodded and looked at the bracelet. A tenuous connection to a sister she’d never meet. She looked at the two certificated on the table.

“Sara was your daughter,” Eleven said slowly, carefully. “Does this mean that I am, too?”

“Yeah,” He said, regaining composure. “That’s exactly what that paper means. You’re my daughter. I’m your dad. Officially.”

“Just officially?” Eleven said.

Hopper shook his head. “No, not just officially. If you want, it could be for real.”

“For real,” Eleven repeated. “Not like Papa.”

“No, not like Papa,” Hopper said seriously. “I know he wanted you to call him that, but was there ever a time when he called you his daughter? Treated you like a dad is supposed to?”

Eleven shook her head emphatically.

“No, because he doesn’t even know what it means. I doubt he’s ever really loved anything. Certainly not you.” Hopper looked down at the two certificates. “I loved Sara. And I love you, too, kid.”

Eleven had never once in her entire life heard those words. The swirl of emotions was back, but this time, the most out-standing one was joy. Incapable of speech, all she could do was smile and cry.

Hopper reached out an arm and Eleven hugged him around the middle, resting her head on his chest. He squeezed her tight with both arms and planted a peck on the top of her head. After some time had passed, they let go of each other, but she took his hand and held it. They both needed the comfort of touch right then.

Eleven dared to picked up a drawing and asked Hopper what it meant. He told her it was supposed to be a dog-velociraptor, laughing. It went on like this for several hours: Eleven would choose something from the pile, and Hopper would explain what it was; tell little, loving stories about Sara’s brief life, and then he would put it back into the envelope.

When they had gone through the entirety of the pictures and papers, all that was left were the two certificates sitting side by side on the table. The only thing they had in common was the line, “James Hopper: Father.” He folded them and put them both in the brown envelope and sealed it. This wasn’t just old memories anymore. It was proof, just like Hopper had said. The love of a man for his daughters.

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Thanks for reading!

My Masterlist

The Exophilia Creator’s Masterlist

[leegyuaeri]

Park Chanyeol attended the funeral, the wake of his one and only best friend in the world. The thought made his heart weak, knees losing their strength and hands uncapable of balling into fists. As much as his existence screamed to live, all of his fiber in every inch of his body bellowed weak. His presence at that time of the day clearly made everything more dim, cloudy, and sorrowful. Everyone knew of what they have, of what they have gone through. Just a clean 13 years ago theyd be stealing candies from momma Park's candy jar and a few weeks ago, theyd stole a much bigger thing. But they did not regret that at all. Park Chanyeol and Byun Baekhyun confrontations about stealing each others hearts was nothing short of overflowing fulfillment and joy. But the time they spent together kissing, making out while they bathe, or making love every night was awfully shortlived that Chanyeol badly wished they had been more stupid earlier. The moment he steps in for the first time at the wake, tears ran down his face when a crestfallen expression greeted him. The woman he loved so dearly next to Byun Baekhyun and his family. Mrs. Byun So Hyun, the mother of his partner, of his lover, of his childhood bestfriend. He was unable to keep up with his sanity, losing all hold he has on his emotions and approaching the woman, who had her arms stretched widely and ready to welcome him in her arms. Tear stricken faces was never forgotten that day, nor did the traces disappeared. "Im so sorry mum." Chanyeol said through his sobs, enveloping the woman in a tighter hug and feeling the tears of her "mum" stain and soak his shirt. "It was never your fault dear, its an accident. No one ever wanted this to happen." She says soothingly in return, her voice steady as if she was not crying her hearts out. Pulling away, she cups Chanyeols face in her frail hands, the striking resemblance of Baekhyuns fingers awfully evident and something about it made Chanyeols heart tug. They stared, eye to eye and Mrs Byun smiled at him, although solemnly there is still a trace of happiness, only clouded temporarily by the spur of emotions. "My child, thank you for being strong. But please don't cry." She says and for the first time that day, she lets a sob stray on her voice, frown etching her features and tears spilling harder than ever. "Baekhyun would never want to see us like this. Especially you, Yeol-ah." But who could they fool that day? The more they said it, the more they could not convince themselves not to let the tears flow. As if telling them that they had already come in terms about it so fast. That their ray of sunshine had disappeared between the raging storms. That Baekhyun would never return.