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pretentious-blonde · 7 days ago

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pairing: steve harrington x reader

summary: steve's father gets in his head, and he takes it out on the one person who has only ever asked him to love her

warnings: toxic parents, arguments, crying, MEAN steve, hurt steve (i'm sorry)

a/n: im sorry (again), i wrote this on two separate five hour train journeys, so i apologise to the elderly gentleman opposite me for witnessing the five stages of grief i went through. @allergictosoup thought about you, so buckle up

welcome to pt. 7, can be read as a standalone

next part

series masterlist

Flour dusts every surface of the Harrington kitchen. Particles drifting through the air in soft swirls that settle on the counter, some even managing to make their way onto the tiled floor.

You’re not even sure how it got this out of hand. One minute, you and Steve were diligently following a cookie recipe—or, maybe it was muffins—and the next, he was downright threatening you.

It felt almost unfair how he leveraged his height to corner you, using the same relentless technique he must have honed on his high school basketball team—leaving you with no room to slip past him.

You’re cornered against the fridge, glancing for your closest escape route, your cheeks hurting from nervous laughter.

“Come on, honey,” he croons, voice dripping with mischief as he edges closer, a devilish glint in his eye. “Usually, you like my cream.”

For a split second, your brain short-circuits.

“Ugh, Steve!” you shriek, scandalised and horrified, your laughter bursting out before you can stop it. Your hands fly up, shoving at his chest as he boxes you in. “You did not just say that!”

But he only smiles wider, utterly unrepentant, eyes twinkling as he takes in your exasperated expression. He gasps in mock horror as you smear some of the flour residue on his shirt.

“Oh, that’s how we’re playing, huh?”

“It is,” you declare as you gaze up at him smugly, a fresh, white handprint marring his navy polo.

“Alright,” he bends his arms to engulf you, whipped cream at the ready. “You asked for it.”

You duck under his shoulder and dart toward the counter, squealing when his other hand snakes around your waist. “Steve Harrington, if you get that on me I—”

He smirks, hold in you tighter, leaning in like he’s about to whisper a secret.

“Too late.”

Before you know it, he swipes a small dollop of cream onto your cheek. You shriek, raising your hands as if to grab him, but he’s faster. Dodging your retaliatory swing, he nearly collides with the kitchen island, laughter echoing off the walls.

“Ok—please! You win!” You finally beg, giggling.

His grin spreads across his face, and for a moment, you think he’s going to comply. Then he arches a brow, stepping closer, feigning another attack.

“I swear to God, if you so much as—”

The phone rings, slicing through the chaos. You both freeze, breathless.

“Saved by the bell,” he says smugly, using his pinky to flick a tiny dab of cream onto the tip of your nose as a final victory.

You huff, wiping it away with the back of your hand, but you’re still smiling. He grabs a kitchen towel on his way to the wall-mounted phone, wiping his hands as he picks it up.

You watch him. Even with his disheveled appearance, he’s effortlessly stunning. There’s something boyish about him in the aftermath of his teasing, his eyes alight with mischief as he takes in your irritated expression.

He doesn’t look the least bit sorry—and if he apologised now, you wouldn’t believe him for a second.

“Harrington residence,” he answers as he tucks it against his shoulder, still slightly winded from the physical exertion.

It only takes a few seconds. A muffled voice crackles through the line, and just like that, it all drains away.

In an instant, his entire demeanor shifts—shoulders tightening, brow furrowing, the remnants of his smile vanishing without a trace.

“Oh… hey, Dad.”

He straightens as if bracing for impact, his hand raking through his hair in that telltale nervous tic you’ve come to know all too well. The motion is restless, almost absent-minded, but it betrays everything he isn’t saying.

“No, yeah, of course,” he says. “Thought you were coming back Thursday?” A pause. You hear a faint rumble of a voice from the other end, and Steve nods like his dad can see him. “Yeah… I’ll take care of it. Sure.”

He hangs up, his fingers lingering on the phone for just a second longer. When he turns around, the corner of his mouth moves in what might pass for a grin if you weren’t paying attention.

But you are.

You’d heard about his parents in passing, though any mention of them was always met with a swift change of subject. It was clear the topic was a sore spot, and you never pressed—some wounds were better left untouched. There was an unspoken understanding between you: his parents had never been his greatest supporters, but he didn’t dwell on it. He had Robin, the kids, and now you—a mismatched, unconventional family where, despite everything, he had found a place to belong.

“Steve?” you ask gently.

“Hey, honey.” He clears his throat, stuffing his hands into his pockets. “Gotta drop you home, okay?”

His voice is casual—almost too casual, the kind of forced nonchalance that immediately sets you on edge.

“Wait, what? Why?”

“My parents are coming home… in a few hours.” He gestures around the flour-strewn kitchen. “They’re, uh, back early. You know how they get about the house.”

There’s something in the way he speaks, a little too even, too measured, as if he’s trying to smooth over something. Your brows knit together, suspicion flickering in your eyes as you search his face for cracks in the façade.

“Oh,” you decide not to press. “Alright, well, I can help clean? We haven’t even started actually baking yet, so...”

No. Absolutely not.

“Nah, don’t worry about it.” He shakes his head, a hint of that lopsided grin returning. “I’ve got this. I’ll save you some, okay?”

“Are you sure?” You study his expression, noting the strain just beneath the surface. He’s definitely not as relaxed as he’s pretending to be, but he’s trying.

“Yeah, yeah, of course,” he insists, stepping closer to place a gentle hand on your shoulder. “I’ll be fine. Think I can handle a little cleaning.”

He leans in, pressing a soft kiss to the corner of your mouth, your heart gives a little flip. For a moment, it feels almost normal again, lips sugary sweet on yours.

“Come on,” he says, grabbing your coat and guiding you toward the front door. “I’ll drive. Promise I’m not a fan of this either.”

There’s a flicker of humour in his eyes as he helps you slip your arms into the sleeves. But it still feels as though he is ushering you out of the place.

“Hm, fine. But you better not eat all of them.” You tell him, trying to coax out a real smile. “They were a joint effort.”

“I won’t,” he says with a grin that’s almost genuine. “Promise.”

You can’t shake the worry in the back of your mind, but he’s doing such a good job acting like everything’s fine that you decide not to push.

He’s Steve, after all—he’s handled plenty. If he says he’s got this, he probably does.

He hurries around the living room, heart hammering in his chest. He’s in overdrive, picking up discarded socks, tossing them into a laundry basket, and wiping away streaks of flour on the table.

There’s still residue smudged on the hardwood and batter-encrusted mixing bowls cluttering the counter, but he couldn’t bring himself to ignore the muffins. You were so excited about them in the first place.

He promised he’d finish them for you, so he popped them in the oven anyway, cranking the temperature and muttering a silent prayer that they’ll actually turn out okay. It feels ridiculous, making time to bake when he knows his parents are about to walk through that door and nitpick every speck of dust they can find.

But he can’t help it. He pictures your smile, the way you’d probably tease him about being sentimental, and he clings to that for a second.

He hears tires crunch against the gravel. A breath catches in his throat.

They’re here.

The front door opens. Footsteps in the hall. He steels himself, leaning against the counter like he’s cool, collected—like he hasn't spent the last two hours in a panic.

“Steven?”

He hates that name—so formal, so stiff. Only ever used by his father, and therefore only said with coldness.

“In here.” Steve replies.

Mr. Harrington appears with a duffel bag slung over his shoulder. His eyes skim the room with mild disinterest, like he’s barely registering the baking utensils piled near the sink.

“You’ve certainly left your mark,” he remarks flatly, setting the bag on a chair. “We leave you alone for a couple weeks and this is what happens to the house?” He shakes his head. “The house you don’t pay for.”

Steve swallows, cheeks warming already. He has no rebuttal for that, and it stings.

“I was gonna clean up,” he starts, rubbing at a flour stain on his shirt. “Just... got caught up in the baking.”

His dad’s eyes flick to the mess, then settles on the oven.

“Baking?” The sarcasm is mild, but pointed. “Sounds productive.”

A defensive retort swells in his chest. He’s too worked up to let it slide.

“I was—doing it with someone.” He mutters out. His father’s gaze flicks to him, bored. “My girlfriend,” Steve adds. “The one I told you about?”

There’s no real surprise on Mr. Harrington’s face, just the slightest arch of his brows—barely a sign of acknowledgement. Steve feels a sharp sting of irritation. He’s mentioned your name before, more than once—dropped it casually in passing, threaded it into brief phone calls, even muttered it during those rare, fleeting visits.

And yet, it’s clear now that none of it stuck.

“She still around?”

The question stings more than it should.

“Yes,” Steve says, jaw tightening. “She’s still around.”

Mr. Harrington gives a dismissive shrug, dropping the bag onto a chair.

“Huh.” He glances at the flour smears on Steve’s shirt, then back to the general state of the kitchen. “I assume this girlfriend of yours is the one with the real job, right?”

“She’s a journalist at the Hawkins Post,” he clarifies as he exhales slowly. “It’s not like—”

“Right, an office job,” his dad cuts in. “Something stable. Maybe you could take a page out of her book. Instead of playing clerk at that Family Video.”

The words sink into him like tiny barbs. Sharp and painful.

“It’s a job,” he fires back, voice tight. “I’m making money.”

“Making money,” his father echoes flatly, “sure. Must be enough to keep you rolling in dough.” He glances to his son after the ill joke, eyes dull, as if he’s reading a newspaper he doesn’t care about. “Could be worse, I guess. You could be back at that ice cream place.”

A hot surge of anger flares in his chest, impossible to ignore. It burns at his father’s indifference, the way he effortlessly dismisses things that matter to him. But there’s another touch of resentment, small but undeniable, curling at the edges of his frustration.

Toward you.

He loves that you’re driven—admires it, even. The way you carve your own path, the independence you wear. Your own place, your own ambitions. It’s everything he wants for you, everything he respects.

But sometimes, it does make him feel like he’s lagging behind, stuck in some endless game of catch-up. And hearing his father throw it in his face? That’s just twisting the knife.

“Where’s Mom?” he blurts, hoping to derail the conversation.

“Meeting me in Evansville,” his father replies, running a hand through his hair. “I won’t be here long, so you can relax. You won’t have me breathing down your neck for more than a day or two.”

Relax. Yeah, right.

He shifts on his feet, hating how resentment twists in his core.

He doesn’t want his dad around, but there’s also that pang of disappointment—like he’s never worth sticking around for anyway. Mr. Harrington rolls up his sleeves, staring at his flour-stained clothes with faint distaste.

“You should probably change,” he remarks. “You look awful.”

Before Steve can speak, the oven timer goes off with a shrill beep, making him jump. He strides over, turning it off and tugging the tray of muffins from the oven. They’re a little golden around the edges—exactly how you wanted them.

For a second, he imagines you here, teasing him about his shirt or the bit of flour in his hair.

You’d probably know exactly how to handle this.

He sets them on the cooling rack, the scent of vanilla lingering in the air. Behind him, his father is already rifling through his bag, not even sparing the fresh-baked goods a glance.

Embarrassment prickles at the back of his neck, creeping in like a noose tightening around his throat. He can feel his father’s presence, the weight of his judgment making his hands tremble as he carefully decants them.

He almost regrets letting you pick the pink casings. They stand out—bright, cheerful, undeniably soft. He remembers the way you squealed in the shopping aisle, eyes alight with excitement, how you turned to him with that look—the one he could never say no to.

And so, of course, he agreed.

Because it made you happy. Because that was enough.

But now, under his father’s silent scrutiny, those same bright casings feel like a spotlight, like something he should be embarrassed about. They’re not the kind of thing his father would ever see as ‘manly.’

He hates that he thinks that.

He hates that he has to think that.

“Hope you didn’t make a huge batch,” Mr. Harrington says absently. “Seems like a waste if it’s just you.”

Steve’s grip on the rack tightens, but he forces a deep breath.

“They’re not for you,” he mutters under his breath.

He almost regrets speaking up—pushing back never gets him anywhere. It never has. But he can’t help himself.

“Hm.” His dad barely reacts. It’s the sort of non-answer that grates on his nerves more than an outright insult. “Anyway,” he continues, “go get changed. I’ve got some calls to make.”

Steve hesitates, his eyes sweeping over the kitchen. It still needs a proper cleaning, but that can wait. Right now, all he wants is to get out of there—to put as much distance between himself and this moment as possible.

There’s resentment. It’s pointed at his father for being so dismissive, but there’s a traitorous thread pointed at you, too—at how you seem to have your life figured out, while he’s still stuck in this stupid loop of disappointment.

“Fine,” he mutters. He tosses the potholder onto the counter and trudges out of the kitchen.

Climbing the stairs, he tries to ignore the storm of frustration swirling in his head. He’s so tired of feeling inadequate. So damn tired of just bored disapproval in his dad’s eyes.

And if he’s honest, it scares him how easily that frustration can twist into resentment toward you—as if you being successful somehow makes him look worse.

He stumbles into the house, shoulders heavy under the weight of a long shift. The overhead lights in the hallway feel too bright as he heads straight for the shower. His clothes reek faintly of the store—a scent he’s gotten so used to, he hardly notices it anymore.

But it’s there. And he knows his dad smells it, too.

Steve tries not to think about it, tries not to think about him, as the hot water cascades over his tired muscles. Tonight’s supposed to be his night—your night. You’d made plans to see that new movie you were buzzing about, something you’d both been looking forward to.

He’s been distant this week, but only because he doesn’t want to drag you into this—doesn’t want you to see just how bad it’s gotten with his dad living under the same roof again.

Water off, towel around his waist, he pads back into his bedroom and rifles through his drawers for something decent to wear. Jeans, clean shirt, maybe that jacket you said you liked. He checks himself in the mirror, fusses with his hair—he just wants to look put together.

He’s about to slip on his jacket when he hears the door open behind him. Turning, he sees his father standing in the doorway, arms crossed, scanning the room like he’s taking inventory.

“Hey,” Mr. Harrington says, clearing his throat. “I’m off.”

“Yeah… alright.” He nods, tries to keep his tone light. “Talk later.”

He goes back to checking his pockets for his keys, wallet—waiting for his dad to leave. But the older man remains planted, gaze still on him. Eventually, he stills, looking back.

What now?

“Listen.” His father sighs, pressing his lips together. “I’ve spoken to your mother, and we’ve both agreed that when we’re all back here, it would be a good idea to have a discussion. A proper discussion.”

Steve’s gut sinks. He forces a calm he doesn’t feel.

“About what?”

“Come on,” his father says, giving him a flat stare. “You’re not stupid.”

“No, about what?” Steve’s jaw clenches.

“It’s just….” He pauses. ”You have no direction.” Mr. Harrington exhales, like even speaking to Steve is a chore. “No goals, nothing you’re striving for.”

Those words dig in like glass splinters. Steve forces himself to breathe, reminding himself of all the good things in his life—you, his friends, the sense of contentment he’s so close to finding.

“Listen, Dad,” he starts, voice tight, “it’s not like I’m not happy.”

His father’s mouth twists, disbelief etched into every line of his face.

“I don’t understand how that can be true.”

“Well, lucky for you,” he swallows, holding back the flash of anger clawing at his throat, “you don’t have to understand.”

Mr. Harrington’s gaze narrows. “It’s that girl, isn’t it?”

“What about her?” Steve’s heart thumps, a little jolt of protectiveness sparking to life.

His father waves a hand dismissively. “Let me know how long that lasts.”

“Now I seriously don’t know what you’re talking about—”

“Jesus, Steven,” his father cuts him off, “wake up and think for a second. That girl is going places. You think she’s gonna stay in Hawkins forever?”

He feels something twist. He doesn’t want to consider it, but the thought’s already worming into his head, even with your prior reassurance.

You’re so damn ambitious, so ready to chase the next big thing. You moved to Hawkins on your own—who’s to say you wouldn’t move again if it meant climbing the ladder?

His silence stretches, and that seems to spur his father on.

“Girls like that always want more. They need someone who’s going to add to their life, not drag them down. And from the looks of things right now, you don’t exactly have much to offer.”

Steve’s throat tightens as he tries not to let his father’s words sink too deep. But he can’t help it—he’s suddenly thinking about all the things you love: work, reading, writing, devouring books at an alarming rate.

And him?

He can’t remember the last time he touched a novel. He’s thinking about the times you’ve told him about your articles in excited detail, and he just nodded along, telling you it sounded amazing, without any real critique to give.

What if that’s not enough?

He's had these thoughts before, but now, they seem harder to push away. Especially with his own flesh and blood repeating them back to him.

His father’s watching him, expression grim, like he’s waiting for a reaction. And finally, Steve snaps out of it, forcing his voice to remain steady.

“Dad, seriously, can we not do this right now?”

“Clearly, there’s no good time to figure this out.” Mr. Harrington’s mouth sets in a hard line. “Your mother and I want you to find a new job. A real job.”

“I’m not doing that,” Steve says, voice shaky with suppressed fury.

He likes his job, even though he moans about it non-stop. He likes that it’s easy enough to leave behind at the end of the day so he can spend time with you.

He knew that he shouldn’t have pushed back, it never works out in his favour. But nothing—nothing—could have prepared him from the words that spilled out of his father at that moment. Years of resentment leading up to one of the worst interactions he could have ever imagined.

“Just—look at yourself, Steven! You can’t stick with anything—sports, school, friends—all of it, you just quit the second it’s not convenient. Basketball, football, every damn team you tried out for—quit when it got hard. Remember that?”

“And don’t get me started on the so-called friendships you let fade. You can’t keep anyone close. You can’t even hold on to the people you claimed were so important to you back in high school. They’re all moving on, building real futures—and you’re just stuck in the past.

“And college? Jesus, don’t even try defending yourself there. Do you have any idea how humiliating it is for your mother and me to tell people our son couldn’t get the grades to even apply? Now here you are, wasting away in some run-down video store. I mean—for God’s sake–-you could’ve at least found a respectable job if you weren’t going to stick with school. But no—you’re working a job any clueless teenager could do, living here, making nothing of yourself, with no plan for the future.

“You know what that looks like to everyone else? It looks embarrassing. And I’m sick to death of explaining it to people. I’m sick of defending you when there’s nothing to defend.

“So here’s the deal. You have three months—three, Steven—to figure your life out. Find a job with some kind of respect attached to it, or at least prove you’re trying for something better than that worthless retail gig. Because if you can’t pull yourself together by then, you’re out of this house for good. I’m done watching you throw your life away.”

Then he turns on his heel and slams the bedroom door behind him, the sound reverberating in Steve’s ears long after he’s gone. Completely shattering him in the process.

For a moment, he just stands there, chest heaving.

It feels like the entire room has shrunk around him, the walls pressing closer, threatening to suffocate him. His fists clench and unclench at his sides, white-knuckled.

He thinks of you—your voice in his head telling him to breathe, that he’s got this, that he’s enough. But it’s drowned out by the echo of his father’s voice, the condemning words bouncing around his skull.

All at once, he can’t contain it. He roars in frustration, snatching up the first thing within reach—some old textbook—and hurling it across the room. It hits the wall with a dull thud, slides to the floor.

The sight of it fuels him, and in a blind rush, he tears at the piles of clothes on his bed, toppling anything and everything, yanking drawers open only to slam them shut again. He barely registers the sting in his hands when he punches the wardrobe door, the hollow crack echoing in the small space.

His breathing is ragged, tears hot behind his eyes, though he refuses to let them fall. He can’t stand the thought of crying because of that man, can’t bear the humiliation of it. But it’s all so overwhelming—the heartbreak of possibly losing you, the fear that maybe his father’s right, the suffocating knowledge that he has nowhere else to go.

After a minute—two, maybe three—he sinks to his knees in the midst of the chaos. His chest aches, his throat tight. He stares at the scattered clothes, the overturned laundry basket, the scattered tapes and magazines.

Tears threaten to rise again, and he sucks in a sharp breath, willing them back. There’s no point—no way he’ll be seeing you tonight, or maybe ever again. Not after this. Not after it had been made so clear to him.

You were never going to stick around.

He stays in his room for a long time, staring at the ceiling, listening to the hum of the house around him. Eventually, he drags himself downstairs, peeking into the hallway just to make sure his father is gone.

The silence is suffocating.

He sinks onto the couch, eyes unfocused on the flickering TV screen, and wonders how the hell he’s supposed to get through the next few months.

Steve had never been one to leave you hanging. That was the first clue something was off.

It’s Friday—your day. The one evening you both set aside, no matter what. By the end of the week, you’re both drained, desperate to shake off work and just be together.

Your schedules don’t always line up—his weekend shifts, your late nights—but Fridays are non-negotiable. You made sure of that, telling your boss it was the only evening you needed off.

You’d spent the whole afternoon daydreaming about it, picturing whispered commentary during the previews—because Steve could never quite keep his mouth shut. He always had something to say, too eager to share his thoughts, even when it earned him a few irritated shushes from strangers. He’d turn to you with that sheepish blush, murmuring an apology before inevitably doing it again. And maybe, if he’d remembered, he would’ve brought the muffins you baked earlier that week.

When he didn’t show, you lingered outside the theatre, wrapping your jacket tighter around your torso. You’d picked out a dress he’d once admitted was his favourite, fussed with your hair until it looked just right. It felt silly standing there alone, trying not to look too disappointed as other couples filed in.

But Steve was never late, much less a no-show. It just didn’t happen.

By the time you reach your car you are more concerned than frustrated. Maybe he’s with his father—he barely hid how tense it made him. It’s possible he’s sick, lying in bed refusing to call because he hates worrying you. Hell, he’s a big baby sometimes—always trying to hide his vulnerability. You tell yourself it’s something along those lines as you start the engine.

The drive to his house feels longer than usual. Every turn builds a knot in your throat, and your brain sprints through every worst-case scenario. It was a gift and a curse to have such an overactive mind.

But when you pull up, there it is: Steve’s car, parked at a slight angle like he always does. No sign of his parents’ vehicles, though. The driveway is eerily empty otherwise. You turn the key, nerves skittering through your chest.

Knocking on the door yields no response. Yet the windows glow with gentle lamplight—a habit you once teased him about. ‘Conserve energy,’ you’d nag. He’d roll his eyes but always hit the switch when leaving. The fact that they’re still on now makes your pulse spike. Peering through the window, you see no movement.

“Steve?” you call softly, tapping on the glass.

Still nothing.

Worry nudges you into action. You crouch down, lift the door mat, and fish out the spare key—the same key you’ve begged him to hide somewhere else at least a dozen times.

Your heart hammers as you open the door, the familiar creak of the hinges echoing in the silent entryway.

“Steve?” you try again, growing more confused.

You shouldn’t have to break into your own boyfriend’s place just to find him. Yet here you are, turning on your heel at every shadow, hoping to see him emerge from the corner with some sheepish grin and a perfectly reasonable explanation.

But of course, life would never be that kind.

He sits hunched on the couch, his body all stiff angles and clenched fists. Usually, you’d see him sprawled comfortably, a grin tugging at his lips, something soft in his eyes whenever he looked at you.

But tonight, there’s nothing soft about him—his posture is wound tight, like a spring ready to snap. The air crackles with a tension so thick you can practically feel it pressing on your skin.

You step deeper into the living room, heart thudding heavily in your chest. He’s always been the sweet one, the one who’d drop everything just to see you smile. But now, that warmth is nowhere to be found, replaced by something guarded. Something scary.

A word you thought would never have been possible to describe your Steve.

“Steve?” Your voice comes out quieter than you intended, thick with caution.

His gaze stays fixed on the floor for a long moment before he finally sighs.

“Yes?”

He sounded hollow, like he was done with you. Like he didn’t even have the energy for this conversation.

“Where were you?” You ask with uncertainty, hating how small your voice sounds, but you’re too unsettled to hide it. “... I waited.”

“Sorry,” he rubs his temples, though it doesn’t feel like an apology, it feels like a statement. Something he is supposed to say. “Didn’t feel like going.”

Your stomach twists, a sting of hurt blooming in your chest.

He never talks to you like this. Ever.

“Uh, okay,” you say, trying to keep your tone steady despite the ache behind your ribs. “When were you going to tell me?”

His only answer is a ragged breath, and then he drags his hands down his face, the weight of the entire week pressing on his shoulders.

“Jesus,” he mutters, “I had other things going on, okay?”

Every syllable strikes like a blow, and you can practically see the frustration rolling off him in waves. Your own pulse thrums as you struggle to navigate what is happening, feeling fully out of your depth.

“So you wasted my time because you can’t pick up the phone?” you ask, trying your best not to let your voice shake—but it does anyway.

At that, he finally looks up, his eyes meeting yours. You expect to find the tender brown gaze you know so well, but instead, you see anger there—a bitterness you barely recognise.

“Oh,” he snaps, “because your time is so important?”

His words lance right through you, and a flush of heat crawls up your neck. This isn’t the Steve who calls you pet names or who leaves little notes around your apartment just to make you smile. This person feels like a stranger, and you can’t even hide the waver in your voice as you press forward.

“Steve,” you whisper, “what is this?”

He sucks in a sharp breath, scrubbing his fingers over his scalp as though trying to ground himself. You see something flicker in his eyes—anxious, irritated.

“Can’t I have one bad day without you being on my case?”

The words punch the air from your lungs. A bad day?

Of course he can have a bad day. But that is not what this feels like. His anger is directed at you. You have not the faintest idea as of why, and that thought unsettles you as he is not letting you in to fix it.

“I’m not trying to be on your case,” you say, voice filled with a confusion that’s fast morphing into desperation. “I’m trying to get you to talk to me.”

His lips curl in a scoff. “Yeah, well, not everything needs to be talked about to death.”

A tremor of frustration flutters through your stomach. Why on earth is he acting like this?

“I’m not trying to talk it to death,” you manage, forcing each word out carefully, “I’m trying to understand.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t want you to.”

He levels you with a stare so intense it makes your heart pound. Each word is laced with a fury you can feel, and it’s so unlike the man you know that it sends your mind reeling.

Before you can reply, he shoves himself up from the couch, stalking toward the hallway like he can’t stand to be in the same room as you. You’re left in the sudden void of his absence, your pulse thrumming in your ears. You lurch forward, catching him by the arm, your grip gentle but urgent.

“Is this about your parents?” you ask, breath hitching. You know enough about his situation to deduce that fact, it would be the only logical explanation. “You know this isn’t the way —”

He twists away from your touch so violently that you stagger back, a jolt of invisible pain shooting up your arm. Alarm flares in your chest as you see his eyes—there’s a dullness in them, a coldness that makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end.

“Isn’t the way what?” he challenges, voice shaking with pent-up rage. “No, seriously—what is it? Am I not handling this in the right way?”

You want to tell him no. You want to tell him that this is not the right way to handle it. But the way he is staring at you lets you know that your pleas will fall on deaf ears.

You can see just how worn down he is. That expression—something’s building into a storm inside him. But his voice is sharp, slicing through the empathy you’re trying to offer. He hurls more words at you, each one stinging deeper than the last.

“You want me to cry on your shoulder?” he hisses, sarcasm dripping from every syllable. “Let you tell me how I should feel? You’re always right, after all.”

It’s like a punch to the gut. You reel back, tears prickling at your eyes. He’s never spoken to you like this—like you’re the enemy. You were supposed to be a team. A unit that supported each other—talked to each other—not whatever this was.

This was scary.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” you say, your voice cracking.

His laugh is hollow, painful to hear. Almost mocking in tone, like you were too dumb to figure it out already.

“Oh, you know exactly what I mean, sweetheart. Always gotta be the smartest person in the room, right? Always got the perfect words, the perfect answer… like you’ve got life all figured out.”

You feel raw, exposed, like he’s peeling back layer after layer just to wound you.

And the worst part?

He doesn’t even seem to care about the words falling out of his mouth.

“Where is this coming from?” you plead, practically choking on your words. Inside, your heart is tearing.

This is the same man who used to beg to spend every moment with you. The same man who waited for you after your shift with candy in the glove box. The same man who showed up to your apartment whenever he got the slightest inkling that something was wrong.

Now, there’s nothing but resentment in his eyes. Nothing recognisable as yours.

“You think I don’t see how you look at me sometimes?” He swallows hard, his throat bobbing, anger carving lines into his features. “Like I’m some fucking idiot—some dumbass wasting his time working minimum wage while you’re off playing reporter, living on your own like you’re so fucking independent.”

Your breath stutters, and a stinging heat blooms behind your eyes, tears threatening to spill. You’ve fought so hard for your career, your home—and he’s always been proud of you. Always your number one supporter, even when it got too tough for you to carry on your own.

At least, you thought he was.

“You know how hard I worked for that, Steve,” you manage to say, your voice trembling.

“Oh yeah, and you make sure everyone knows it, don’t you?” He barks a harsh, humourless laugh, shaking his head. “Perfect job, perfect apartment. Well, congratulations, sweetheart—you did it. You’re better than the rest of us.”

His words feel like a knife twisting. This bitterness, this rage—it’s as if he has been pushed so far that he desperately needs an outlet, and you’re the only one here.

You’re the scapegoat.

You’re the collateral damage.

“Is that what you think?” you ask in disbelief. “That I—what? Look down on you?”

He meets your gaze, and for just a second, you see the flicker of something else—pain, exhaustion, maybe even fear. Then his jaw sets, and he spits out the words like their poison.

“I think you pity me.”

A silence runs through the room, lingering in the air after his words.

For a moment, you see the fragile boy beneath his anger: the same kid who once prowled the halls of Hawkins High with a chip on his shoulder, always desperate for approval but never sure how to earn it.

You remember how he confessed, quietly one night, that he’d been bad in high school. But you never imagined this—the cruel sneer, the razor-sharp tone, the venom in his stare. Willing to risk it all in the heat of the moment.

“Steve, if you feel that way, maybe we can—”

“Don’t fucking analyse me!” he snarls, the word cracking across the room. “I’m not one of your leads for you to pick apart.”

The accusation stings, but before you can gather yourself, he lashes out, swinging a kick toward the coffee table. The impact jolts the furniture with a dull thud, sending it skidding a few inches across the floor. It’s not aimed at you, but the fury in the motion makes your stomach lurch.

You flinch—an involuntary reaction, your hands instinctively shifting, breath catching in your throat.

Everything seems to stop for him in that instant.

His anger halts, mid-flow, eyes widening at the sight of your trembling form. You can practically see the realisation crash over him.

You’re scared. Of him.

He’s never seen that kind of fear on your face before—and it hits him like a freight train, knocking the breath from his lungs. For the first time in his life, he truly understands what it means to have someone be afraid of him, and the realisation sinks in his stomach like lead.

“Wait,” he breathes, voice shifting from explosive rage to desperate remorse. “Angel, wait—”

Your eyes sting with tears you refuse to let fall, but the shock and hurt are already etched across your features. You take an unsteady step back, and he tries to reach for you, fingers twitching with regret.

“Please don’t be scared— I didn’t—” His words tumbled over each other, pleading, panicked. He moves closer again, arm half-extended.

“Don’t,” you repeat, your voice thicker this time, harsher. “Don’t you dare touch me after that.”

The words cut through him like broken glass. You can see it in the way he staggers a little, anguish flickering across his face as he tries to gather himself.

“Listen,” he starts, voice trembling, “I—”

“No,” you say firmly, turning away, each step feeling like it’s taking every ounce of will you have left. He follows, heart thudding, panic rising.

“Please—” he calls, voice strangled. “You said you wanted to talk—let’s talk. We can talk for however long—just—”

You’re already at the door, blinking back tears. Your hand is on the knob, and you glance over your shoulder, voice shaking with anger and hurt.

“I’m going home, Steve. I’m leaving.”

“No, don’t—” He begs, chest tight, desperation thrumming like a live wire under his skin. “Please don’t go.”

But it’s too late. You slip out the door, and his heart seizes. He charges after you, no shoes on his feet, stumbling into the cool night air. The gravel bites at his soles, but he barely feels it, his voice cracked and hollow as he calls after you.

“Come on, sweetheart—we never fight like this,” he pleads, each word drenched in remorse. “Please—we don’t do this.”

You grip your car door, shooting him a look brimming with hurt, tears still shimmering in your eyes.

“You know what else we don’t do?” you manage, voice raw, unsteady.

His face crumples. He already knows what you’re about to say. Knows it’s true.

“We don’t use each other as punching bags when our feelings get hurt,” you continue, anger and betrayal bleeding through every word. “Grow the fuck up, Steve.”

You slide into your car, turning the key as he watches, frozen in the driveway, his heart pounding so hard it drowns out everything else. The engine roars to life. He wants to scream, wants to beg you not to leave, but the words stick in his throat.

The tires crunch against the asphalt, and then you’re gone—taillights disappearing around the corner, leaving him standing there in the silent darkness, a chill sinking through his bones.

His father was right in some aspects—that you would leave. But Steve never thought that he would be the one to make you go.

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington #stranger things #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fluff #stranger things x reader #steve harrington fanfic #stranger things imagine #steve harrington angst #stranger things fic #stranger things x you

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cheriecoke · 1 year ago

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I loooveee the way u write nanami 🥺🥺 was wondering if u could do a mini fic on nanami x reader but when they were in high school :O I feel reader would constantly flirt with him but he stays unbothered until she stops 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫 thank uuuu

౨ৎ ˖ ࣪⊹ HIGH SCHOOL SWEETHEARTS — nanami kento

omg thank u so so much, you're very sweet <3 i think i was taking requests when you asked this, so im so so so sorry i took forever to answer :( this isn't exactly what you said but i hope it's close to what you had in mind <3

contents: sfw, high school nanami & reader, mutual pining, silly teenage emotions, fluff, it's not even really romantic but they're best friends that won't admit they have a crush on each other, reader is shorter than him, gn!reader — 1.2k

“you can’t stay mad at me forever, kento.”

your best friend — or so you thought — stayed silent as you walked through the abandoned warehouse, searching for the curses that needed exorcising. so far, they’d evaded you, just as kento had all of your questions.

he glanced over at you, mouth drawn into its usual line. “i can if i want.”

“oh really?” you huffed, crossing your arms over your chest as you continued forward, following him through the building. “are you fifteen or five? you’re supposed to be the mature one!”

kento rolled his eyes, but didn’t dignify that with a verbal response, letting his blade dangle loosely at his side. an odd sound echoed through the hallways, but it wasn’t quite menacing enough to be a curse.

you groaned. “don’t you know everyone will just keep pairing us up on missions until we work this out?” if kento was going to continue to be a pain, you wouldn’t allow him the silence he wanted so desperately. he’d been ignoring you for over a week. “haibara’s lucky. he gets to go with the second years.”

nanami glanced over his shoulder, raising his eyebrow, before looking ahead once more. “you mean he’s lucky he gets to go with gojo.”

though you weren’t sure if it was supposed to be an insult to you or not, you laughed. “maybe.”

“yeah,” kento scoffed. “i thought so.”

the tone was flatter than usual, even for someone like kento, and you raised your eyebrows, letting the words settle between you.

“you’re being so sour. you know, you never even told me what i did wrong. you’re so mad at me, kento, and i don’t even really know why.”

kento watched his feet take one step, then another, the opposite ones moving ahead. he’d grown a lot over the summer — a fact you’d somehow only realized. since when had he been that much taller than you?

“i’m not mad,” he finally settled on. a weak argument as to why he’d been ignoring you for the duration of your mission, and the week before.

you frowned, chewing the inside of your mouth. although kento had a kind heart, you knew how nasty he could be to people he didn’t like. you didn’t want to be one of those on the list. “kento… i really am sorry. if i’ve done something wrong.”

the tension drained from his shoulders. he sighed. “you haven’t.”

despite wanting to push the issue further, you let it die, deciding to listen to the silence in case of any curses. though, it had been nearly half an hour, and you hadn’t found any yet. you were beginning to think that maybe your teacher had led you astray.

“can i ask you something?” kento, after ten minutes, finally interrupted the quiet again. and though that sort of phrase was never a good sign, you would’ve taken anything to get him talking to you again.

“of course, kento.”

he sucked his bottom lip into his mouth, seeming shy, almost. had it not been so dark, you would have seen the slight tint of pink on his cheeks, that you only assumed was there to begin with.

“what is it about gojo that you like so much?”

you blinked. “what do you mean?”

“you’re… interested in him, aren’t you? like that?” kento shifted awkwardly, holding his body as if it wasn’t quite his own. “i mean, i just assumed…”

all over, you great hot, your cheeks burning with embarrassment, a wave of dread heaping onto your stomach. “you think i have a crush on gojo?”

“don’t you?”

you thought about it for a moment, staring at the ceiling. “i don’t know. maybe.”

“maybe?” kento pinched his eyebrows together. “what the hell kind of answer is that? you either do or you don’t.”

“i think he’s...” you stumbled over the words, not really sure when you’d started talking to nanami kento about these sorts of things. the words tasted sour in your mouth. “well, i suppose he’s attractive, isn’t he? he’s certainly charming. he makes me laugh.”

“you’re always flirting with him," kento said skeptically.

you shrugged. "i'm just teasing. if you consider that flirting, then i guess i am."

“hm. you sound like you think you’re supposed to be interested in him, just because he’s gojo.”

that raised a small laugh out of you. “maybe you’re right. i think i might just be interested in people i know won’t ever like me back.” kento’s eyes flashed, and before he could say anything, lips parted, you continued. “but what do i know about anything, anyway? teenagers are supposed to be dumb like that, aren’t they?”

kento frowned, brown eyes softer than you’d seen in awhile. “i don’t think you’re dumb.”

“thanks.” for some reason, that made you bashful, darting your eyes away as you smiled at the ground. “have you ever had a crush on anyone, kento?”

he gave you a tiny little smile, poking you in the temple, before repeating your words from earlier. “i don’t know. maybe.”

“you’re so stupid.”

kento laughed, then, a light noise that was more familiar to you than it was to a lot of others. “you know, if it makes you feel better, i think gojo likes you. really, i do. he thinks you’re pretty. he likes when you laugh at his jokes. geto told us. he talks about you to him all the time.”

and though you’d expected the words to send a wave of glee over you, the sort of silly emotion that came with a teenage crush, you didn’t feel excited as you should've. perhaps because satoru had never been the one you wanted.

“gojo just likes to be admired. besides, everyone likes when people laugh at their jokes. that's not special.” you kicked at the floor. “anyway, geto’s probably just telling you all that so you’ll tell me and i’ll make a fool of myself in front of them. that would really make them laugh.”

kento frowned, contemplative. “i don’t think he would do that.”

he wouldn’t. it just seemed the only good way to diverge the conversation.

you threw your hands up, expelling a loud sigh. “well… whatever. honestly, it doesn't matter. i don’t think i even want a boyfriend.”

kento gawked at you for a moment, lips slightly parted, before he shook his head, another snort of a laugh leaving him. “you’re so confusing.”

“you should be relieved. wouldn’t you be miserable if i started dating gojo?” you were only teasing him, bumping his shoulder with your own, a playful grin on your face.

but kento’s voice was gentle when he returned his answer, and the relief was evident on his face. “i would.”

whether you knew it then, or not, that little confession had changed the course of your life. you brushed it off easily, gripping your cursed tool tightly as you turned the corner again.

“hey kento?”

“what? the curses are going to sneak up on us if—”

“you’re my best friend, by the way. even if i was dating gojo, you’d still be my best friend. you’ll always be my best friend.” you stopped him, serious now. “no matter what happens.”

kento smiled softly, barely there at all. he squeezed your hand in return. “i hope so.”

#kento nanami x reader #jjk x reader #nanami fluff #nanami kento x reader #nanami kento x you #nanami kento x y/n #kento nanami x you #nanami x reader #jjk x fem!reader #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #xoxo rylie 💌 ୧⋆ ˚｡⋆#xoxo rylie 💌 ⋆ ˚｡⋆

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bgomtori · 1 month ago

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☆ softcore - c.yj

synopsis - you were tired of yeonjun using you as someone he could just go to whenever he had a problem, but you can't seem to leave him.

-> yeonjun x reader

-> one-sided love, friends to lovers, angst(?), fluff

-> WARNING! slightly toxic friendship, yeonjun doesn't realise his feelings, kinda slowburn, yeonjun's a slight player and is kinda possessive, mentions of wooyoung from ateez + yuqi from gidle

-> NOTES! hi guys! i'm back? for a while hehe, im so sorry for not updating much, i've been losing motivation to write ever since last year :(

"she's ignoring me again yn, what should i do?" yeonjun groaned, burying his face into your shoulder as you tried to console him. you couldn't ignore the burning feeling you had in your heart, why were you still trying to reassure yeonjun even though he has made it obvious that he'd rather date other girls than you.

"shouldn't you just like drop her? she's been doing this for months and you're still trying to chase after her." you advised, pulling yeonjun away from your shoulder causing him to whine. your eyes met his, fuck you could feel your heart thumping against your chest. you hated yourself for constantly giving in, but you couldn't help it that he always show you affection through physical touch. yeonjun was confusing, you hated that he would always go to you whenever he wanted to, he barely even interacts with you in school, it felt as if you were just there in his life, nothing significant, just his little relationship therapist.

"i don't know, she's just so confusing.." yeonjun sighed, his head back onto your shoulder for comfort, you rubbed his back gently, staring blankly at the wall. "wait, why are you here again?" you asked, the words falling out of your mouth before you could even think. yeonjun looked at you shocked, "wait fuck no, i didn't mean it like that.. i, uhm." you meant exactly what you said, he was only at your apartment because he wanted girl advice, he's only cuddling you in bed because he needed relationship advice.

"i came to see you?" bullshit, if he wanted to see you he would have placed some time aside to hang with you in school, but he's always around entertaining other girl's needs. you were the other woman, nothing more, nothing less. "is there.. something wrong?" yeonjun asked, his hands laying on top of yours. you wanted to say that he was the root problem of what you were feeling, but at the same time it was your fault for falling for him.

"no, i'm fine, don't worry." you smiled at him, carressing his cheek. yeonjun leaned into your touch, nuzzling into your chest, hugging your waist tightly. you noticed that his breathing became more stable, soft snores escaping his mouth, he fell asleep. you stared at the wall behind him, why do you love torturing yourself like this.

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁

"you're literally insane, look at him. last night he was literally sleeping in bed with you, then now he's hugging a new girl." yuqi, your best friend, glared in yeonjun's direction. you followed her eyes to where yeonjun was, you sighed into the palm of your hand. you felt so tired of his antics, it was a constant loop of giving yourself hope and breaking it almost immediately.

"you should give up honestly, it hurts me seeing you get played like that." yuqi suggested, sipping on the juice carton in her hand. you nibbled on your bread, you can't, if you gave up on him, you'd honestly break. he was like the sun, he brings light into your life, but he also drains your energy so much. you know that it was unhealthy, but he needed you as much as you needed him, you know that. however, yuqi was right, you're only hurting yourself more if you stayed by his side.

"i'll try to avoid him." you muttered out, you're going to regret it, but it's for the better.

"don't try, you have to." yuqi kicked your feet as you giggled, yea you will. you turned to your side, making eye contact with yeonjun, your eyes widened, quickly turning away, your face heating up almost instantly. this was going to be so tough.

after that conversation with yuqi, you distanced yourself from yeonjun, giving him excuses when he wants to hang out with you, you even started talking to wooyoung, one of the guys yuqi introduced you to. you told him about the thing you had with yeonjun, and he told you what anyone would have said. it was extremely toxic. you laughed it off awkwardly, pulling out your phone as you ate a fry you stole fron yuqi's tray.

yeonjun : today? can you hang? i miss you.

yn : can't today, i'm hanging out with my friends.

yeonjun : oh, ok.

you felt bad, but you had to follow through your plan, giving in to him will make you look weak.

on the other hand, yeonjun noticed that you've been avoiding him, he couldn't help but feel slightly jealous over the fact that you're getting closer to everyone else but him. he feels like you're disappearing from his grasp, he doesn't want that to happen, he doesn't want to lose you as well, he could lose anyone but you. he didn't even realise his feeling for you until recently when you started drifting from him.

"you actually like yn? like LOVE?" beomgyu gasped, yeonjun has never confessed any true feelings to him before, all of yeonjun's past relationships were half assed. yeonjun nodded his head, covering his face to save him the embarrassment beomgyu was about to give him.

"that's crazy, i saw this coming but you were too stupid fucking around other girls." beomgyu cupped his face, sipping on his americano, looking at yeonjun dead in the eye.

"shut up, i'll try talking to her later." yeonjun rolled his eyes at beomgyu, leaving the cafe without him. yeonjun tapped onto your chat, comtemplating on whether he should text you or not, it was getting late, knowing you, you were probably home already.

yeonjun : you home right now?

yn : yea why?

yeonjun : cool, see you at the park nearby in 10.

yn : what?

he left you on read, he didn't want to explain further, it was better if he told you in real life. he sat on one of the benches at the park, waiting for you.

"what do you want?" you voice suddenly sounded beside yeonjun, causing him to jump in surprise. yeonjun immediately placed his phone back into his pocket, patting the seat next to him. you sat next to him, you couldn't ignore the way your heart was racing either due to how close you were to him, or how nervous you were.

"why have you been avoiding me?" yeonjun asked, his eyes fixed on your face. "huh?" you stuttered, your hands getting clammy, you didn't expect this meeting to be a confrontation.

"did i do something wrong? i can fix myself, just tell me what i did wrong." you scoffed at his statement, was he really asking you this question right now?

"am i a fucking joke to you?"

"what?"

"is our friendship a joke to you? you only find me relevent in your life when some girl gives you an issue. one second you're all clingy to me, and the next you're all distant, talking to multiple girls like i'm a toy." you snapped, tears forming in your eyes, you were done with him, did he think that you were stupid?

"yn–" you pushed yourself off the bench, looking at yeonjun who looked like a kicked puppy, "if you don't have anything else to say, i'm leaving." you quickly walked away, wiping away the tears you finally let loose, you were sobbing. it hurts, you hated this, you hated yeonjun for making you feel like this, you felt humiliated for suddenly bursting like that.

unexpectedly, you felt someone tug on your wrist, pulling you into a warm embrace. your eyes widened, immediately pulling yourself away from yeonjun's grasp. "what are you doing?" you grumbled, pushing him away as you sniffled.

"i'm sorry." yeonjun apologised, his eyes on the ground, not batting you an eye.

"are you serious?" you pursed your lips, not buying into his apology.

"yes i am, i'm really sorry, i can't forgive myself for making you cry, i'll stop, i'll improve myself for you. just, don't leave me, i can't lose you too." yeonjun apologised sincerely, his eyes never leaving yours. you stood rooted to the ground before his arms engulfed you, giving you a bone-crushing hug. the tight hug you've always wanted from him, it felt so comforting, his scent was home to you, sobs escaped from your mouth, unable to respond to yeonjun's statement.

"can we restart? i'll treat you better, trust me." yeonjun rubbed the back of your hair, in hopes of getting a response from you.

"i hate you." you said in between sobs, peeling yourself away from yeonjun's grip, wiping the tears you had on your face. yeonjun laughed at your words, grabbing your hand as he pulled you towards your apartment.

"i'm staying over tonight, you don't mind right?" yeonjun asked, his thumb grazing over your knuckles every now and then. "no.." you mumbled, butterflies filling your stomach while following yeonjun closely. yeonjun smiled to himself before he started running, dragging you behind him. maybe staying by his side forever won't be a bad thing anymore.

#bgomtori ✰#txt scenarios #txt imagines #txt fanfic #yeonjun imagines #txt fluff #txt thoughts #txt #txt yeonjun #txt ff #txt imagine #yeonjun x reader #txt x reader #yeonjun soft hours #yeonjun fluff #yeonjun

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prettieinpink · 1 year ago

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Being that girl once again- back to school!

It’s back to school season everyone, and my favourite times of the year. In this post im going to give you stuff to do for back to school + advice in specific areas of your school life! I hope everyone can take away something from this post <3

THINGS TO DO BEFORE BACK TO SCHOOL <3

Revise your past term content in your core subjects, ensure there’s nothing you do not understand(it’s better to understand now than have to understand later)

Review what you are going to be learning for this current term in your core subject, you don’t have to study it, just familiarise yourself.

Catch up with your friends- hang out, call or text before the new school term. My favourite thing is to create predictions of drama, couples etc in the upcoming term w my girlies!

Create SMART goals for you to achieve that term, in any aspect you want. I say; 1 goal for academics, 1 goal for social and 1 goal for extracurriculars/sports.

Clean your room !! do a deep clean and declutter. E.g wipe down all surfaces, hover pillows, vacuum floor, clean mirrors, take out any clothes you dislike

Do an everything shower + face masks!!

ACADEMICALLY

Everyday afterschool, revise everything that you’ve learnt today + the things that you struggle on

Anytime you get homework, complete it as soon as possible. Most of the time, it’s easy and non time consuming.

Create study guides for exams/tests while actually learning instead of when the assessments are actually coming up. It saves you a lot of time, which you can use for studying effectively.

If you don’t already, have a specific learning/studying style that works for you. E.g flashcards, blurting, mind map, spaced repetition, the feynman technique. (ofc you can have multiple). Just know the pros and cons of each studying technique.

Or, what I do is that I assign specific studying techniques to different subjects e.g science - blurting, HASS - flashcards, maths - the feynman technique. This may be different to what you have the most success learning.

Have a place, time every day or at least most days, where you can study without distractions. I like to study at the library afterschool, it’s chill and literally void of any distractions.

The only advice in which i’ll say is not optional– do practise questions under the said test conditions. Stop using websites, listening to music, being on your phone etc. Get in the zone and transfer the environment.

SOCIALLY

Make an effort to say hi or goodbye to some people, even if you do not know them that well. If you’re up for it, ask them how they are going or how their day has been.

Start remembering names and birthdays. This will literally make people like you so much more, it’s so simple but people swoon over this. Process names in your mind and write down birthdays in your calendar.

Don’t be afraid to talk to others. Most people do not care if you talk to them, and some are glad that you talk to them. This is how people become well-known or well-liked.

Watch videos on how to converse with people you do not know well effectively and become close with them. TED x has a lot of videos on this, and are usually helpful.

Don’t try to fit in with the crowd. It’s so draining, and even if you think they do, they most likely dislike you(sorry!) . Instead, find/be with your people.

Join a club/extracurricular. You meet so many like-minded people this way, while still developing your own skills. I say everyone should at least have one solid extracurricular.

If you are in a talking stage, three weeks is enough time for him or you to decide if you’re willing to date them. It’s not the 1920s anymore, we have imessages, facetime, skype and others to communicate and get to know each other without contact

Call out your friends if you notice them doing something toxic or generally anything they shouldn’t do. E.g gossiping, getting mad at others, bullying someone. If they continue, it will influence you in the long run.

MENTALLY

Reframe your mindset. I know most of us do not favour school, but do not dwell on negativity and find ways to be positive/neutral about your circumstances. You’ll feel so much better.

Detach. Detachment is literally essential in highschool, there’s so much drama and most likely you will somehow get tied up in it. Stop absorbing what happens and let it influence you, observe what happens and learn from it. I have a post on this here.

Start saying affirmations everyday. I know affs are usually viewed as a manifestation thing, but it doesn’t have to be. It can be a simple one minute way to cultivate a neutral/positive perspective of yourself.

Journal. Things will happen, so journaling is a great way to discuss your circumstances, feelings, trauma, relationships etc and develop a sense of identity at the same time. I have a post on this here.

Meditate. It can be go-go-go constantly, but just take a break and gain some mental clarity and see how much better you feel decluttering your mind.

Embrace a change and growth mindset, especially in an environment where we are constantly required to adapt.

PHYSICALLY

Start stretching.. seriously. You sit at a desk for like 5 hours a day excluding lunch and recess, everyday, which is of course going to do a number on your body. It can relieve pain in many different areas.

Have at least 1 form of exercise you do everyday. I know being students, we have to sit at a desk constantly. But, do not give up on practising good exercise habits. Not only can it help with results, it’s good for you.

Get the recommended sleep of 6-8 hours per night, which is good quality sleep without disruptions. It helps with long term memory and you’ll feel better.

Start packing healthy but tasty lunches to school instead of buying. You’ll save so much money in the long run, and it’s better for your body.

BEAUTY

Get your uniforms tailored just a bit. Not too noticeable, but enough that it fits better on your body. Especially for button formal shirts, as they make you look 10 times as bulky than what you actually are.

Buy new jewellery, earrings, necklaces or whatever you’re allowed. Subtle but noticeable jewellery makes girls look so pretty.

Learn new hairstyles!! Don’t just wear the same hair everyday, mix it up, it’s fun and makes you look attractive.

Get a good eyebrow gel + clear mascara. Legit life changer, I look so much better everyday because I look put together without make up.

apply vaseline on areas you would apply highlight, but avoid your eye area.

Have a good skincare regime!! Being a student is stressful, getting pimples is a sign of stress.

Okay that's it. Happy back to school everyone! Here’s an affirmation for you <3

I am intelligent and capable. I am skilled and confident in my abilities. I am perceived well by others. I am healthy. I am wealthy. I am looking for this term to be full of good grades, vibes, friends, growth and fun.

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cremedensada · 11 months ago

Note

I’m gonna need general hcs on interactions with the boy next door… like what if we just moved to town and we first meet him as we’re moving in… Also can they be in like highschool? I don’t know if that’s already the gist but yeah. She’s moving in with her mom and he’s there…

Yandere Boy Next Door

sorry anon i think i went way to far away from what you wanted shdhdh also theyre senior high school students (grade 11 - 12) which is like, two preparatory years for college. so theyre adults bc im much more comfortable with that :33

btw his name is lukas !! he's named now

male yandere + gender neutral darling/reader

lukas is easily approachable - he's got that warmth about him that just draws people in. it's all practiced to maintain his popularity though.

he's also a huge people-pleaser, despite the fact he easily gets burnt out and has his social battery drained.

so when his mom asked him to be a dear and help the new neighbor's kid on their way around the school + neighborhood, he just couldn't say no

sure he's tired, possibly close to having another breakdown just thinking about being pestered by fellow students for answers to homeworks and other menial stuff, but he still manages to say yes and give her another perfectly practiced smile

when he goes over to the house next to theirs - the ones you moved in to, you had no lasting impression on him

now, don't be mistaken, he does think you're good looking but at the end of the day he'd much rather curl up in bed and sleep

so he puts up that perfectly crafted persona and invites you to head to school with him. a new environment is much easier to deal with when you're not dealing with it by yourself! (or something like that)

he tries not to be overbearing, trying to get you to open up while also making sure he's respecting your boundaries and comfort as you made your way inside the school gates

you don't share the same classes, so he asks you for your time table so he knows your schedule

he hopes he's not being creepy or anything, he's just making sure your first day transferring here goes well

sure he's known for being a caring person in general but he does feel like it's his responsibility to make sure you're doing well you know? you're neighbors now, you guys should get along!

it's smooth sailing until it's time you guys finally went home

like that morning, he waits for you and invites you to walk home with him to familiarize with the shortcuts and local lounging spots for students

all the while he tries to get you to talk about your experience today

it must be due to the amount of stress piled up on his plate that lead him to feel... nervous.

his perfect persona cracking as his calm demeanour and collected way of talking slowly devolved into nervous tangents talking about anything at all

were you displeased? his perfection was practiced and polished since he was a kid, was it still not enough for you?

he could handle disappointing people a lot better now but paired with his currently leaning towards unstable, your displeasure is something that's slowly tearing him from the inside

he's jolted out of his thoughts when you suddenly speak up.

"thanks for showing me around. i thought i was going to struggle getting used to things all by myself."

you smiled up at him. "so... yeah. you're... okay."

his heart thumped.

everywhere all around him feels a ton of degrees warmer.

"...okay." lukas was tongue tied.

on the remainder of the journey back home, he walked you to your house, ensuring you got inside safely before making a beeline towards their house and into his room.

normally at this hour he'd be passed out in bed, tired after a whole day of pretending and smiling. today was perhaps the first time he didn't go to bed with his cheeks hurting and aching from smiling so much.

laying in bed, making an excuse as to why he's not going to be joining for dinner, just thinking about you and your words.

lukas grew up living to the standards of being perfect. a perfect son. a perfect student. a perfect friend.

anything less is... unacceptable to say the least. when you do or think of something so often in your day to day life, it becomes a habit. and lukas' habit is perfection.

but you thought he was okay.

okay.

suddenly 'okay' sounds much better than being perfect.

suddenly your opinion towards him becomes much more important than anyone else's.

lukas is a people pleaser, and onwards from that moment, the only 'people' he will ever want to please is you.

i hope this is sufficient? i'm actually v sleepy rn lol but thank you for the idea!

#sub yandere #sub character #yandere oc #yandere x darling #yandere x reader #yandere imagines #yandere headcanons #yandere #yandere scenarios #tw yandere #gender neutral reader #gn reader #yandere boy next door #oc: lukas

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moneymartin · 11 months ago

Note

OKOK SO I JUST SAW THE NOTIF!!

so hear me out…maybe reader is like a fam friend of Kate’s. They were best friends and played together all the time. They went to Iowa together, and are roommates. Reader plays volleyball, soccer, softball, wtv you want. And like a slow burn friends to lovers!!?? (i’m a whore for friends to lovers) i’m talking mutual pining, years of attraction and feelings…literally brewing for 22 years (kate’s going to be 24 soon, so like they’re moms were bestfriends so Kate and readers friendship started when they were like 2?)

PLSPLSPLSPLS IF U CAN!?😋

・❥・- no hard feelings.

summary: basically the req lol. r plays soccer at uoi and kate is a nervous wreck 😭

warnings: none rlly… just the use of y/n if that even counts as one??? 💀

rpf!!! don’t read it if ur uncomfortable 😣

wc: 2.25k

a/n: not my usual stuff, i know. i’ve just been itching to write something about kate :( plz don’t unfollow me guys and don’t leave me mooties </3 🤧 i swear i’m going back on my yjs grind once school ends. every divider is a timeskip btw cuz this is lowk long and im layz asfk… also kind of messy i’m so sorry

NOT PROOFREAD!!!!

22 years. you and kate have been friends for 22 fucking years, and she hasn’t picked up yet. your very obvious feelings for her are starting to fade the more she’s been avoiding them. it sucks so fucking much.

these stupid feelings started when both of you ended up at the same university and the same dorm. you never saw kate in that light. she was your mom’s best friend’s kid, and the rest was history. you played tackle football with her when she had nobody else to play with, practiced basketball with her. you two were practically attached to the hip. the same elementary, middle school, highschool, and the same damn college.

it wasn’t like you could just leave too. the scholarship you were offered for soccer was totally worth the taking, and you couldn’t leave behind the team either. the first few times you gained feelings for kate was when you were in middle school. ‘experimenting’ with your feelings. well, that was your guys’ excuse after you two losers got caught by her mom. after that it was just dating stupid boys to get your head out of it and your head off of kate. thankfully, she was trying to do the same exact solution. you knew a lot about her.

but the one thing you didn’t know was that she felt the exact same. she was just too scared to say it. its not like she wants to lose a 22 year friendship over her uncontrollable feelings. first thing she did was go to caitlin, and she was practically freaking the hell out over it. cait was definitely the anchor between the both of you. helping you with accidental arguments so you didn’t lose kate, helping you out with what to say when she was upset. it was good having someone like that, but it was so incredibly stressful having to consistently ask for some sort of advice.

eventually you were tired of it. tired of waiting for something to happen. waiting for a move to be made by kate or maybe just a few little hints that kept you going. although you couldn’t anymore. it was draining, like someone who didn’t realize what you felt about them. you told caitlin everything after that reality set in for you. it was the blinding of your feelings that let everything slip through your mind and basically fly over your head. how could you be so naive to believe that she did and you were just trying hard for nothing in return. it was dumb, and you knew that much.

one night after a long day of testing and practice, you stumble your way into your dorm, the door locked and a frown crossing your face. the keys were in your stupid locker. “open the door, please..” you murmur, voice tired and confused. you bring your fist up to the door and knock softly, the sound of the lock clicking and the door creaking open. “jeez. soccer must’ve been a pain in the ass. you look like shit.” kate laughs, grabbing your arm gently to stable your body. letting out a heavy huff of breath, you lean slightly into her and drop your arms to your sides. “tell me about it.” she smiles and hoists you up carefully, locking the door and bringing you to the living room.

the moment your butt hits the couch cushion you let out a soft sigh and look at kate, her big stupid and soft eyes locking onto yours. the corners of your lips curl up slightly and you snicker, raising your eyebrows. “do you really wanna know? cause its a stupid story.” you exaggerate and rub the back of your neck. kate takes the spot next to you and nods continuously, her head leaning onto your shoulder. “trust me, dude. i wanna hear it.”

“kay, well… coach dilanni was being a total douche about what i wanted to practice. i mean, its fucking practice for a reason. i’m supposed to practice what i need to practice! not what he wants me to practice.” your voice gets a little low and you start to slur out your words. the repeated words and slow murmurs make her laugh a little, her arm hooking around your neck and bringing your head towards hers. “and he gave me so much attitude. like, the more i tried to defend myself the more he spoke over me. the old head was thinking about benching me during the champ game!!!” you blurt out and let out a groan.

she starts to realize just how tired you are and pouts, her head moving away, and her hands cupping your face. your head involuntarily moves to stare at hers, your eyes half open, your lips pursed slightly, and your head dropped down a little. “he looks like a nice old guy but deep down that man has some serious problems,” you grumble. “and don’t even get me started on the tests i had to take.” kate’s eyebrows raise and her face stills for a moment when you bury your face deep into her neck. your breath tickles at her skin and she feels shivers running up and down her back. you’re so tired you don’t even realize what you’re doing.

“y/n…” she breathes out heavily and you hear her swallow down whatever she needs to say. your head pulls out and you look at her with big eyes too, just like how she did earlier. water forms in your ducts as you try to fight off the sleepiness, but the way kate is looking at you makes it hard to get off of her. “hm?” you hum and drop your head against her shoulder. “never mind, okay.” her voice drops too and softens a bit, a familiar heat rushing up to your face when she runs her fingers up and down your back.

the warmth of her body and the relief you feel when you hear her voice makes your head spin like crazy. its like she knows what you feel about her and is just doing this to mess with you. the second your eyes shut, kate sucks in a sharp breath in through her teeth and practically manhandles you. gently, of course. but shes picked you up like a damn baby and you don’t have the slightest intention of stopping her from doing it.

your stomach spins and churns awkwardly from the contact. you’ve known kate all your life, but right now it feels like you just saw her on campus for the first time. after you got that news you guys shared a room together. you suddenly get the reminder of your feelings for her, like a shit ton of fireworks igniting in your stomach. more so reigniting. she brushes her fingers up against your face to move a few strands of hair from it.

kate likes you. she really fucking does, and its just the fact that she can’t spit it out no matter how much she wants to. no matter how much she wants to scream it from the rooftop and tell the whole world about how she feels. she thinks you’re the prettiest girl she’s ever seen and she has that gut feeling where she believes that you feel the same way. she isn’t stupid but shes smitten and that’s blinding her as well. just like how it did to you.

“y’know how we’ve been friends for like.. a bajillion years?” she laughs nervously and curls her lips downwards a bit. you know that shes nervous and its starting to make you nervous too. you’re starting to sweat a little underneath your shirt and you can somehow feel it under your skin. “yeah, why?” you ask and open your eyes to look at her face. its all red, her eyes open wide with anxiety, and her mouth slightly parted.

“okay, listen to me and don’t freak out… please.” kate squeaks out and moves her hands away from you. her reactions and jitters cause you to sit up and watch her every move just to make sure she really doesn’t start to freak. theres a feeling in your stomach that can’t really be put into words. it’s that feeling where you wanna throw up because of your nerves and the wanna jump off a bridge before you hear what she says. “i won’t go crazy, you idiot. what’s wrong with you?” you ask with a little chuckle but it quickly fades away when you realize what she’s about to say.

you’re not feeling this because you’re embarrassed of what she’s feeling. you’re just nervous and not used to it. at least thats what you’re telling yourself. there’s a little voice in your head repeatedly telling you to “calm the fuck down!” and it isn’t really helping. your brain is fried from the tiredness you feel too, but this seems really important. “nothing is wrong with me, i just dunno.. need to tell you something before its too late.” she whispers and tilts her head to the side a little, figuring out how she has to say it and if she really should let you know. now that she’s declared that she needs to say this little thing before its ‘too late’ confirms everything you need to know.

“this probably sounds stupid and dumb and i’m going to sound like the biggest loser in the world,” she starts, her voice cracking and her face contorting in different ways you’ve never seen before. in all the years you’ve know kate, shes never been so anxious and nervous about something like this before. its kinda scary. “but i think i’m like.. really in love with you.” she stumbles over her words and buries her face into her hands. it takes you a moment to process what she says as the sleepiness corrupts your mind. “i’m sorry, what?” you mutter.

“i said i like you!!!” kate blurts out and you watch her face turn the reddest you’ve ever seen it. you’ve been with her for almost all of her relationships and this is the first time her face has ever looked like that. her previous partners have never had her like this, they’ve never had her the way you have, and you’re realizing that just now. “oh.” you gulp. the words you’ve been waiting to hear for more than half of your life have finally been said, and it is the greatest relief you’ve ever felt in your life. and everything makes sense now.

the way kate brushes up against you in the halls, the fact she always walks you to your classes no matter how far hers is from it, her taking you to soccer practice, her watching your games like how you watch her, and the fact that you are the reason she blushes like she’s embarrassed herself. although she hasn’t, she’s just so into you, and nothing is gonna change the way she feels. “‘oh?’ is that it?” kate spits out and starts to panic a little. after she’s just admitted, she’s expected something different from you. maybe the same thing? she doesn’t know what she was expecting, it just wasn’t that.

your eyes widen and your face grows redder the longer you stare at her and when your tiny tired peabrain registers that she reciprocates what you feel. “no! that’s not it, stupid, i like you too!” you blurt out as well and push her shoulders. kate has a look of something on her face. you can’t tell what it is but she seems happy about what you said, and that makes your emotions explode. “okay, you know what? i love you, actually! i love you, i love you, i love you!!!!!!!!” you stutter out a bunch of times. years and years of hoping and waiting that she’ll finally do something comes to a stop. “i have my whole damn life.” you murmur, catching your breath slightly from the continuous shouting of your feelings at her. the burning and churning in your stomach goes away and is replaced with a certain sense of relief. a relief that you haven’t felt in ages.

“oh so, you’re serious, serious?”

“yes, okay. i’m not joking, like i meant everything.”

“say you swear or i won’t believe one word you say.”

“i swear on coach dilanni’s life.” you giggle, fingers threading through kate’s blonde strands. her head is propped up on your chest and her eyes are slightly open. you two have been sitting there for about ten minutes, talking about why or how you even got these stupid little feelings for each other. but none of you are complaining. matter of fact, you’re both on the verge of falling asleep but the presence from each other makes you both wanna stay up all damn night if you could.

“he’s not gonna like that...” she murmurs, voice soft and slurring a bit. kate wraps her arms tight around your waist, her head moving into a more comfortable position. your hands are all over the place and you’re basically just messing up her hair, one of her eyes closing when a few strands get in her face. “you have no idea what you’re doing, huh?” her lips turn into that smile you know all too well now, and her eyes closing completely. a yawn escapes from in between your lips and she hears it, snapping her head upwards, that smile turning into a smirk.

“kiss me.”

and you do.

#kate martin #kate martin x reader #mine #wcbb x reader #wcbb x you #rpf #this is so bad #coach dilanni im sorry ur probably a good man 😞

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adoregojo · 1 year ago

Text

valentines - sae itoshi x reader

yayyyyy I finished it, im free :3 im so freaking sleepy rn warnings: angst, very happy ending the chap before: one

2017

it's been years since you last saw sae.

those 3 years without the elder itoshi felt unfilled, missing it familiar spark. visiting the sea doesn't feel the same without the reddish-brown boy alongside with you. his endless grumbles about how luck keeps running the opposite direction and it's always loss in the in of his road were now just a remains echoing inside your head.

it's not that his face wasn't rememberable anymore, in fact, his face was glued on every bug screen around japan. under the name of the japan prodigy himself. however his face was blurry and those big-screens always do him unjustifiably. pictures were good, but sae grew. oh how you wished you could have grew together again.

you missed his actual face, when he would reveal his rare unseen smile to you. even when he didn't smile, there was something there, your grandma always said that his eyes would go soft under the mention of your name. when actual emotions were still swirling in his heartland. now you looking at his face, his slime teal eyes were so..bleary.. sae looked like he lost all his colours.

you wished you could embrace him, just like you used to when you two were kids after he flunked his math test and the first thing he does is let you hug him and play with his hair, sae told you that he would never let someone else do that to him yet the word shameless was unfound beside you.

but now you were helpless. thinking about the great distance itself between you two was crushing.

you kept writing, and sae promised to write back. at least he did at first, within the next months his letters and calls were fading, draining each day, they were getting awfully dry to the point you felt he was just saying anything to make shut you down. but in the end he stopped completely. no matter how much you texted or called they were never answered.

yet you kept on writing, even when he didn't reply. you sent him birthday cards on his, remained him of yours as well. however he never responded. you write and send, write and send, write and send damn letters nonstop. at some stage you didn't know where to send them anymore. they were never replied to, never seen nor read.

soon your texts became green. and it felt like a door was slammed on your face.

you felt desperate, like a dog waiting for it owner returned. and you could feel the pity glimpses in everyone's faces, in school, neighbourhood, sometimes even your own grandma, except that she held more sympathy with it.

perhaps, the younger itoshi was the only one who didn't change much. just like you, sae stopped his communication with him as well. but he handled it way better than you did, the letters 'big brother will come back, he's just busy' fell out rin's mouth every time he senses you unhidden soreness.

you should believe in what he says, it's literally his brother. his own flesh and blood, his family. yet you didn't ease up under his words, if anything it worried you even more. you felt it, the wave screaming back at you that something bad will happen, something that'll change everything forever.

and you knew you were right when opened the door revealing rin with tears running down his reddened cheeks.

2018

rin never told you what happened that tragic snowy night.

all you could remember was him shedding tears like there was no tomorrow, they were silent yet so painful that you felt sorry for the boy. you always took rin as an unbending person, he was like sae but much more chill and dare you say more friendly?

you warped a blanket around him when he slept in the guest room, you never pressured him. never pushed him, thinking about it now, you should probably have. because you woke up to that bed soothed back all clean and empty the next morning.

and it felt like rin last strike of humanity was left dead under your roof.

rin changed, and everything changed with him. maybe you didn't, perhaps you grew doleful, dejected. waiting was hard, pouring down your soul. it felt like the sky was telling you that you were waiting for nothing, but to be truthful, not only the sky was implying that.

you saw how the younger itoshi would look at you when he saw you writing letters to sae. he said nothing and stood silent, yet his eyes were pleading with you to stop, to give up on his brother before he curses you for good. however, you were already cursed by sae a long time ago.

even when he left for that project, deep inside. he wanted to say something, to speak up. the words were on the tip of his tongue yet he kept on opening his mouth and closing it like a lost fish. then rin left without a word, leaving you to face the truth by yourself.

you found it strange when every time you were present in the tv room, the first thing your grandmother dose is close the tv or change the channel. it was weird, you never remembered her being a big fan of national animals shows. she always liked the news which was what she kept avoiding for a while for some reason. her protection wouldn't last forever.

a secret kept swimming around you, just walking around in the hallways was enough for everyone to either laugh or look at you with such pity. even the teachers? what was going on, what kind of secret could it be to impair you this much?

you wished to stay curious, to stay lost in your little circle of agony but not to witness the man that planted dead hopes within you was now cutting your roots of holden on faith.

you saw a picture of sae kissing another girl, and you felt your soul getting toured up by him.

like the world itself was laughing at you naiveness, how stupid you were. you felt used, the wasted years you spent waiting on someone who didn't even care felt like a pure burning betrayal. you got that light message, sae was basically telling you to get off his back, you were no longer needed.

you meant nothing that anyone could possibly overshadow you. you got tossed aside, a dusty memory that was never worth holding in the first place.

you stopped writing letters after that day.

2021

"nice having you back in japan, genius boy."

aiku laughed, but the man ahead of him didn't even spare a smile at him. instead he found the glass of drink in front of him more interested. the black head let out a sigh, he guessed that sae isn't exactly a man of change, he needs to stop letting his hopes up for nothing.

it's an understatement to say that aiku was surprised that the elder itoshi would even acknowledge his invitation for a night out at what he called a fancy bar. hell, sae probably didn't even like wine in the first place. yet he was here, looking around with his boredom eyes that never opened fully.

"soo, you finally opened your heart for your dear home?." aiku asked, taking a sip of his own drink. through the transparent glass, he could see the slim teal eyes peeking at him.

"what's up with that interview question? don't say you invited me for this." sae spat out, the place was awfully packed despite it being the middle of the night. and he would lie if he said he wanted to spend another second here.

"haha, once a stiff always a stiff. thought i would get a thank you for getting you out of your forlorn shell for awhile. i mean, look at those chicks, you sure you don't wanna catch yourself a little fun? heard you were left out on valentines eve."

the elder itoshi frown a brow, "you think you're my wingman or some shit? don't get too high of yourself just 'cause i went out here with you." scoffing, the reddish head crossed his arms.

before aiku could get a chance to reply, a sultry voice called. "you boys would like a refill?" the suffocating smell of her perfume was pocking sae's nose, which made him hard grimace in disgust. while on the other hand, the shaggy head threw a sly smile at him for some reason, he better not do anything stupid.

"not me, hun. but my friend over there would definitely like to. right, sae?" he should've knew better. he knew this fucker was trying to set him up with some, it didn't even need a rethink when his glass wasn't even half way empty.

sae could feel a vine running through his head when the high heels sound was lifted to his side. his personal space was getting tackled when the woman bend over with her breath that reeked of unhidden smoke and alcohol was tickling his ear.

"Oh? you must be a new one. we got specials for those." she breath out, her hand running down sae's arm. he had to stop himself from getting defensive at her sharp nails stabbing him through the fabric of his clothes. "you can request anything you please, even these lewd things going on your head."

her flirting was on death ears, he didn't even take a glimpse at her. nudging that man was like trying to punch a wall. sae told himself to ignore and she'll get the message and leave him alone already.

"c'mon now, whatever little sweetheart you clinging onto doesn't have to know."

and that hits a nerve, "anything you say? than I request you to step the fuck back you good for nothing tart creature." as soon as these harsh words come out, a loud gasp was heard. and sae couldn't find it in himself to stop the next words of coming out. "I came here for someone, not some harlot woman wiggling over me. go throw yourself on some pimp maybe you'll find a purpose inside their pants or something."

soon, it turns into a crying mess. and sae remains stiff. the only reaction he could give was sipping on his drink, he saw aiku trying to stop the women from running before stroking the bridge of his nose is disbelief.

"what the hell man.. you could've just told her to leave you alone."

"I don't like pushy people."

he hears a scoff, then aiku swaying after the other woman. sae could feel the eyes of strangers staring him down, not that he cares, not even about that woman who he sent crying, she can collect what's left from her dignity, if there was any in the first place. he was too busy rethinking why did he speak those words.

and why did was your face the first thing to pop up his mind when he said that.

it's been years, and he couldn't believe that he agreed to aiku's request, yet he'll never admit that he wanted any reason to step here again. any reason to see you again, he never thought he still had it in his heart to miss you. to be eager for you, he found himself bubbling with excitement like a little kid again.

sae can't figure why are you suddenly so heavy on his mind, was it the years of pushing you to the corner of his mind was paying off? even the tiniest things were enough to makeshift you in a way. it felt like he couldn't escape you, you were in everything and everyone. in the side planted flowers, in the little kids laughs, in the bright colours of the sun.

he wondered if you still think of him, if you still hold on him after seven years of being absent in every way possible. you turned eighteen without him, you probably had much more friends by now, maybe even changed your haircut, he remembers you rambling about how your grandma wouldn't let you change the same haircut for years now. sae himself doesn't notice the smile forming on his lips.

"wash that sappy face off, doesn't suit you." a firm voice stated, he didn't even have to turn around and see when he knew this tone like the back of his hand. lo and behold, his younger brother standing there.

"rin."

"shitty brother."

rin walked up to the table, his hands deep in his pockets. standing in such a filthy place made shift disgustingly. not even trying to hide his displeasure staring at both his brother and whoever walks by like a walking foul trash bags. or maybe that's just his natural face.

he didn't take the obvious abandon seat, instead he stood like he just needed a minute before taking his leave. "didn't expect you to be back, though you called this place unworthy of your presence." said rin, his eyes doesn't held them loathing anymore. but still a hint of unbearableness was there, that'll take some time to wash away.

"i have my reasons." he simply replied, he was never releasing his feelings.

"plus, what the hell are you doing here? and don't lie to me when you look like seconds away from throwing up." sae question,

"you need to get a assertive manager next time." rin shrugged, he wasn't planning on lying. the guy almost shat himself at the sight of rin alone. maybe he should work in his face expression.

"well, I know you aren't here for a heartwarming family reunion. so spit it out already." rude as ever, but the younger itoshi learned to not raise his hopes too much when it came to his brother.

rin doesn't reply to that, instead he reaches for his black coat pocket. lifting out some designed letter, leaned it carefully over the table for him to take. so sae does, playing around with the object, he sided eye his brother.

"a wedding invitation." rin answered before he could question.

"yours?" he asked in disbelief, that was not a face of a man getting married.

his younger brother started at him like he grew another head, "no?" he almost gagged, narrowing his eyes.

"then i have no interest in wasting my time."

"just read it you damn slacker." rin demand, he did not come all the way here for his older brother to act like a spoiled brat. he swore he's gonna shove that letter down his throat if don't stop yapping.

finally sae let out a dramatic sigh before opening the letter, whatever name it was, it better be worth it. and part of him wished he never opened it.

because his eyes uncontrollably traveled to your name, not even that he read the start nor the beginning. he wished it was a mistake, maybe someone else's name and it was all pure coincidence. his eyelids flicker open, he read it once, twice, and the world felt like it stopped.

"..it's in two days by the way.. and stop looking at the letter like that, your gonna burn it." rin words went from ear to ear. but sae managed to catch something in the lines 'in two days'

"two days?.. why am i getting an invitation now?" words came out mindlessly, he wanted to ask more, who, how and when. his mind was on track. sae never wished for something to be a sick joke like now.

"are you serious? be grateful you were even in the list." nevertheless, rin didn't like his question. is that really what he asked? not even about you? however, his brother colourless face spoke more.

sae didn't reply, he looked at the letter in his hand like it was his worst enemy. rin wished his brother wasn't a damn block headed maybe then he'll get his fingers on what's running inside his mind. so rin takes his leave, letting his brother handle the news by himself.

"woah, man. that girl just wouldn't stop crying. I'm starting to believe you're truly heartless." aiku let out breathlessly, but he was met of a new face of sae, it was the first time he say any other expression on his face. especially something..this emotional..

"dude, you okay? looks like you've seen a ghost."

maybe even someone as cold as sae could carry a fragile heart.

2021 February 18

it felt like the universe was laughing at him.

fate was truly the cruelest, out of any other day. it had to day, the day that was meant for you and him, just fir another guy to snatch his place like a piece of candy. he wished it was him, he wished he didn't come here in the first place. yet he was, surrounded with unfamiliar faces chit chatting around.

sae regrets stepping in here, he wanted to leave. to runaway. he doesn't want to face it, to face you walking down with another man that is not him. but he wanted to see you so bad, why did this feel like this is his only chance to see you ever again?

he felt aimless, and the people talking wasn't helping him either.

"did you hear? they're gonna rent a house on a beach!"

"oh my, they're so lucky. wished mine would have the same mindset."

fucking kill him.

"you actually came? thought you'd leave like the spineless coward you are." the voice of rin was merciless. and most of all brutally honest.

"shut up. I don't wanna hear it." sae waved him off, he didn't wanna hear it. especially his little brother berating him senselessly. deep down, he knew he deserved it. he was the one that stepped over your heart when he promised to take care of it. maybe he is a coward.

after he followed after rin, which took to long for his liking, he had to complain. "fuck you taking me to?" he spat out.

"be patient, don't you wanna talk to them?"

that somehow shuts down any chance of any other objection, it felt like ages before they got to the meant room. and for some reason, sae doesn't enter yet, he doesn't find the guts to.

"why did you even invite me to this?"

"me? invite you? you wish." rin jeered, his brother was definitely not in the right mindset to think such thing. "they invited you, if anything i thought it was better not to."

"I didn't even think you'd come, looks like you still got something in that frigid heart of yours. but it's already too late to come over your fears."

a ghost smile form on sae's face, at his own stupidity, at rin's truthful manner. at himself,

"i know that."

he closed the door behind, and slowly walked into the room. his steps were heavy they kept on echoing through the walls. announcing to the world what he was doing. it was a miracle he didn't fumble his feet on the way, and more of a miracle when he didn't faint at how beautifully you shone.

you quickly stood up, the white dress mimicking your movements. he was right, you did change your hairstyle after all, and oh, how you good you made it look.

"sae? you actually came.." you exclaimed. examining him from head to toe, he did change, more like he grew. he wasn't the same height as you anymore, his bangs were long gone. and he refused to meet your eyes. looking at everything but your gaze.

"yeah." he pushed out his lips.

it was strange, seeing the one he promised to marry get married to another one. his first crush, first crush, his first heartbreak, the first heart he shattered. all the memories of childhood came like a rush wave of air, and what lingered was your face at the airport, the day you said goodbye. the day he heard you sniffing behind him, yet he didn't turn.

perhaps because he knew out everyone, he would've gave up everything just to not see you a tear run down your face. or it would be him crying with and be a couple of crying mess. yes you got him warped your finger like that.

sae only knew a world with you, and he knew his soul stayed with you the day he left.

"it's been a while,"

"seven years, it's been seven years." the male corrected

"i know." you giggle bitterly. he knew you knew. you both knew but none spoke or mentioned anything.

"how have you been?" he had now idea of what to say or ask of you, that was your fucking weeding of course you're happy. damn, even his younger self wasn't that clueless.

"I'm good. you?"

I'm missing you terribly.

"good."

"that's good.." you shifted awkwardly, like you wanted to hide from him. was he making you that uncomfortable?

"can i?" stretching out his arms slightly, he was ready for you reject it, to punch him, to scream at him. but you nodded instead.

you lean right on his chest, his hesitate arm on the small of your back. when was the last he hugged someone? it was much easier when you two were kids. it sure felt warm, your cologne taking over his senses. he just didn't feel like fits the puzzle anymore. and it fucking hurt.

it didn't last long sadly, taking yourself out of his embrace. he doesn't want to let go, if he let go, you'll disappear. despite that he looked into your eyes, and suddenly he doesn't feel only half alive. you still got him warped around your finger like that.

"i need to go, it was nice seeing you again, sae."

he could only nodded, every step he took away from you felt like the world was draining it colors again, the universe was punishing him, because seeing you not sparing a glance back was truly painful.

the evening felt timeless, it skips to where he sat looking heedlessly at the ground. he didn't want to meant anyone's face nor attention. he bet that his was gloomy enough to scare off anyone who walks by.

one's begs to differ.

"well, well. if that ain't a face I haven't seen in a long time." an elderly woman said, the same old sly smile still glued to her face. she takes a seat beside sae, fearlessly nudging him to look at her.

"it's you."

"it's me, that old granny you used to call a hag." your grandma said.

"That was one time, and you spanked me for it."

"i sure did, always been a badass." she laughed, and sae found the invisible beam draw in it way to her face.

"look at you, you grew to a fine young man." he hissed when she pinched his cheek, almost as if she meant for it to hurt. he had rub the spot with a grunt.

"despite that, it's sad to say you disappointed me, itoshi sae." she spoke in a straightforward manner. almost like she was scolding him. and when say nothing she continues.

"I would've given you another spank but my grandchild would be mad, they still cares for you. always been." the lady sighed, "they never gave up on you, four years is a real challenge. every day they kept on writing to you, did you perhaps read them."

"every singer night."

"but you didn't respond to a single one?"

he doesn't replay to that.

"don't prove me wrong again. that girl you put your mouth on, why?"

sae's hand travel down his neck, trying to find the right answer. as if there was one. "i wanted them to give up on me. i just felt pushing them and everyone away was the right thing."

"so you became a selfish bastard that kills everything he touches? i knew you were dumb but not that dumb." she shook her head, he had concerned her swinging her cane over his head.

"it doesn't matter, it was already done." lies sliding down his throat. and he knew even a strong face wasn't enough to hide the truth. she could see him bare.

"maybe if you weren't that stupid, you'd have managed to keep the only person that could handle you. but I'm never wrong so i guess you two did end up together in another lifetime."

"but i wanted them in this one."

"too bad, too late." it felt like a sucker punch, he wished for her to actually beat him with that cane at least it'd be less hurtful and heavy. again the urge to leave was strong. and it was getting stronger when that man stood there, and when you walked he couldn't take his eyes off, he couldn't even blink. you never looked so breathtaking. and there he knew that his place didn't get stolen, but earned by someone else. someone better than him. someone that could make you happy and wouldn't make you hold on to a forsaken promise.

yesterday it was him proposing to you with his dead grandparents ring, today it was another one warping it around your finger. the image will hunt him to his death.

the him that promised, the him who kisses you injures, the him who saw you in sunset above the sea. was still there, that version was still swirling within him somehow. and it only shon with your light only. the light that will never be his anymore.

to sae you'll forever be his everlasting one in the stars.

"goodbye." he hopped he chose you in another life.

lmao this is trash mb yall

#blue lock x reader #bllk x reader #blue lock #sae itoshi x you #itoshi sae x you #sae x reader #sae x you #itoshi sae x reader

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leaentries · 1 year ago

Text

out of line | nico hischier

summary: when his girl finds the ring, it doesn’t end like he had hoped.

warnings: mostly angst, swearing, this does have a happy ending (im sorry i couldnt leave my babies in dispair)

wc: 1.9k+

a/n: i’m sorry in advance, i feel like i don’t write angst that well…but i hope you enjoy regardless

the captain’s girl masterlist

Heaviness lay in thick blankets around the room, almost like the inches of sand that covered the expanse of beach outside. Your throat felt tight at the intense gaze Nico was blazing at you. It wasn’t often the two of you fought, but it sure hurt like hell when you did.

Shuddered breaths heaved in your chest, hands pricking at your nails. It all felt like a nightmare. Except, you weren’t waking up.

Tension had been rising for days, emotions only growing as you and Nico danced around each other. You had refused to acknowledge the elephant in the room, or rather, the ring.

You loved Nico, with everything in your being, but you weren’t ready for marriage. Not yet anyway. Nico had always seemed so understanding about you choosing to wait a few more years before doing anything rash. Yet now, you weren’t so sure.

With Nico inviting you to come along for the trip during bye-week, you couldn’t have been more ecstatic. The thought of being able to spend an entire week with your boyfriend was like a breath of much needed fresh air. And it was, for the first few days.

At least until Wednesday.

❥.

Nico had gone out with some of the guys, promising to be back by 4 at the latest. Not that you minded much, getting the very nice and very expensive villa to yourself for a while was enticing.

After an hour or so in the sun, you decided to take a little break and use the giant bathtub that had been screaming your name since you had arrived. Grabbing your bag and some clothes, you made your way to the en-suite, making sure to leave the door slightly cracked, just in case Nico got home.

You turned on the faucet, making sure the water temperature was just right, before stripping yourself and sinking into the welcoming space. Closing your eyes, you sunk your body lower into the water, until it brushed against your chin with any movement. The motion of the slight waves was like a massage to your sore, sun-burnt skin.

You remained in the tub until the water ran cold and your skin began to get pruny. You pulled the drain, before carefully getting out and wrapping yourself in the closest towel. Walking over to the counter, you rummaged through your bag, trying to find your face wash, yet coming up empty handed.

You rolled your eyes, realizing you must have left it somewhere. Although, it was just a minor inconvenience, since you and Nico both used the same brand, so you weren’t worrying too much.

Squatting down to open the cabinet under the sink, you pulled out Nico’s black bag, quickly opening it to find the familiar bottle. You began to pull stuff out, before a little velvet box fell onto the tile beneath you.

Your breath caught in your throat, hoping it isn’t what you think it is. Nico knew you wanted to marry him, but not now, not during the peak of his career and your schooling. It just wasn’t what you saw for yourself. Shakily reaching down to grab the box, you stood up, scared to open it.

You almost opted to put it back, knowing that if it was an engagement ring, your relationship would never go back to the way it was. This would bring up a new wave of emotions and obstacles. It would open up a door you didn’t know if you could close.

Bracing yourself against the counter, you slowly opened the box. Gleaming back at you, in all its glory, was the most beautiful ring you could have imagined. It was the perfect ring. But this only made it hurt worse. Just picturing Nico picking out a the cut of diamond you had always wanted, or the band color, had your heart clenching with sadness.

You knew you were gonna have to talk to him about it, before he did something that neither of you would be able to walk away from unscathed.

It was the only option to save your relationship. To save Nico.

Sighing, you swiftly get dressed, placing the box back on the counter, hoping that Nico would realize you had found it. Now this may seem cowardly, but it was truly what you thought would be best. At least then, the blow would be softer than a straight out rejection.

You figured that if you prompted him to bring up the ring, the conversation would be easier. Only, he never brought it up. You could tell he knew, by the way he was so cautious with anything he did around you past 48 hours. This only caused your heartache to worsen.

Eventually, the tension came to a boiling point. Having just got home from a private dinner, you can’t help but feel as though Nico had originally planned for more to come from that picture perfect beachfront sunset. Deep down, you didn’t need to guess, you knew.

This was the night Nico was supposed to propose.

You felt conflicted as you entered the living room in silence. On one hand, you felt relieved he didn’t get down on one knee, yet on the other, you felt guilty for hoping the man you loved wouldn’t confess his undying loyalty to you. Your chest tightened with emotion.

“Can we not do this anymore?”

Nico’s voice rang out, interrupting your battling thoughts. Your brows furrowed in confusion.

“Not do what, Neeks?”

“Not sit here and pretend you didn’t find the ring, or that I wasn’t gonna propose to you.”

There it was. The bomb finally dropped. With those few words, the harsh truth of the situation became real. All of it did. No matter how hard you tried to remain in denial, or refuse to acknowledge it, reality always finds a way to bite back.

You bit your lip, contemplating on how to begin voicing your side, “Nico, what you need to understand is-”

He cut you off, “I do understand, Y/n. But you told me about your whole “plan” 2 years ago when we first got together.” His chest heaved with despair, “I thought you’d change your mind by now.”

“My plan? My plan was never going to change. You can’t be upset with me, when you were the one who assumed I’d say yes.”

Nico felt his heart shatter at your words, anger quickly began to boil through his veins, “Of course I’d assume you’d say yes,” He ran a frustrated hand through his hair, “I mean, fuck, we live together. We do everything with each other. I’m sorry for wanting to take that step with you, truly I am.”

His sarcasm didn't get lost on you. Scoffing, you turned away from him.

“Nico, you’re not listening to me-“

“What’s there to hear?” He cut you off once more, arms flaring into the air, “That you don’t want to marry me? God forbid someone actually wants to love you.”

You spin back around, tears springing to your eyes, “You are so out of line right now, Nico.”

Yet, your shaky tone did nothing to calm him.

“How am I out of line? For loving you?”

Disbelief was written all over your face. You couldn’t even begin to comprehend the intensity of it all. Nico’s harsh comments pelted through any sort of resolve you had left. Never once did you think Nico would say something like that. Especially knowing your past. It stung worse than any pain you could imagine.

“T-That’s not fair,” You quivered, “And you know it.”

Nico’s tense form deflated at your meek voice. The anger that once flowed through him like hot lava, has now receded, leaving nothing but spiky coldness and depression. He felt lost, plagued by the possibility of not spending the rest of his life with you.

He gingerly walked across the room, now standing directly parallel to you, “Why?” His voice was distant and cracking under the weight of his emotions, “Why won’t you marry me, schatzi?”

The use of the familiar nickname was enough to break you. Sobs wracked through your body, knees becoming shaky. Nico immediately engulfed you in his arms, cradling you against his chest like it was the last time he’d ever feel you. You felt Nico’s own tears fall freely, the hurt grasping you both. Heavy cries left Nico’s chest, only furthering your guilt.

“I’m so sorry, Nico!” You blubbered hopelessly, “I love you so m-much, I just,” Your sentence was cut short by the rapid hiccups in your breath.

Nico’s hands moved to gently hold your face, pulling it to meet his bloodshot eyes. His cheeks were red and puffy, wet tracks trailing down to his chin, but you knew you didn't look much better. He tried his best to calm your breathing, even through his own unsteady gasps. After a few minutes, you found yourself composed enough to continue.

“I don’t know,” You admitted weakly, “I don’t know why I don’t want to marry you, Neeks. I’m just not ready, yet.”

Nico took a second to mull over your words. He dropped his hands from your face, leaving you distraught at the possibility of him being even more upset. He quickly turned, retreating to your shared bedroom. You felt your throat squeeze, a new wave of anxiety washing over you.

Finding the courage to follow him, you found him sitting on the edge of the bed with his face in his hands. His shoulders shook with the force of his sobs.

You made your way over to him, perching on your knees in front of his legs. He lifted his head, pain written all over his handsome features. Your body physically ached at the amount of hurt swimming in his doe eyes. You cursed yourself for being the cause of it. Nico reached out to slowly like he’d spook you if he moved too quickly. He pulled you to stadle his waist, big eyes drilling into yours.

He dropped his head in shame, “I’m sorry, schatzi.”

You swallowed thickly, having not expected an apology.

“I should have talked to you about it first. I-I just got excited when we finally started talking about the future, I thought you had changed your mind.”

You relaxed slightly, realizing he wasn’t gonna end things, “Don’t be sorry,” You rasped, voice hoarse from crying, “I should have made it clearer.”

Lifting his face, you forced him to look at you, “But that doesn’t mean I don’t want to get married eventually, Neeks. I promise, I do. Just-,” You looked at his hopeful gaze, “Just not right now.”

He nodded slightly, understanding your words.

Your eye flickered from his eyes to his lips, before carefully placing a delicate kiss. Nico responded almost immediately, hands pulling you deeper. The kiss was slow and passionate. The days of bottled-up emotions pouring into each other's mouths. You slipped your hands into the back of his hair, making sure he wasn’t going anywhere.

You eventually pulled away for air, chests panting. You sat for a moment, just taking in the other’s body. Nico was the first to break the silence.

“Can you promise me something, schatzi?” Nico begged.

You nodded quickly, “Anything.”

“Promise you’ll marry me someday.” He swallowed, face falling into a serious expression.

You smiled slightly at his lingering worry. You kissed him once more as reassurance, before pulling away just enough to speak.

“I promise I’ll marry you someday, Neeks.”

#the captain’s girl au!#nico hischier #nico hischier x reader #nico hischier imagine #nico hischier angst #njd #new jersey devils #leawrites💋

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carlarosenakilah · 27 days ago

Text

I'm taking a break from The Osix Family and Wilted Ivory

Hi, you've read that right. I'll proceed to go into detail undercut

Warning that the following will be containing very sensitive topics such as su***idal thoughts, mental health issues, and whatever the fuck I went through to get me here and I don't know how to describe nor name them but overall its not pretty.

Getting straight to the point- im drained. I'm in a horrible place right now and I need to take a step back before it might escalate into something worse.

The Osix Family is always something that I will forever dedicate to. It has comforted me, carried me, and saved me from killing myself three years ago.

I asked myself, "If I'm not here, who will tell the story of The Osix Family?"

That made me stay alive, and im greatful for that because if not, I wouldn't have been where I am today standing with the coolest people I have ever met and my amazing partner in crime @alexusespido-dod.

I love Wilted Ivory too, and that's where it gets tricky.

My only plan for Wilted Ivory is to simply tell a story about growth expressed as a musical au. Hence why the art is so simple– not just to match the original Casino Cups style, but just to tell a story that I hope would inspire and comfort others. Of course, I'm happy it gained lota of love.

The Osix Family though is a different story.

Like I said, it means a lot to me, so I put so much time and energy into this series. I sacrifice time that could've been used to study for the next exam, but instead im working on the next few panels or planning the music and etc. Blood sweat and tears (literally) into making sure the art looks good, story is properly conveyed, scenes carefully picked. Even if it gained me bad scores in my exams that made me stress over about, in the end it was worth it to me. I didn't care if I'd be sick an unable to move, as long as I could at least think about it, then I would be happy.

Episode 3 was my worst.

I overworked myself for that episode. I was always in front of my tablet, I never moved out of my seat, I was just there, working on it even if it was 1 in the morning and that I should be sleeping. I told myself: "Everything will pay off! Sure you're in so much pain right now, but eventually it will all pay off! Episode 3 is looking good and interesting! This will FINALLY gain the audience and love the story deserves!"

I was proud.

Until I wasn't.

Reality hit me like a saw. The moment the episode was released I was hopeful. But nothing happened. It was all the same.

And it just hurt how something as simple as Wilted Ivory can easily gain attention and love because it was Cuphead related something well known. Meanwhile, The Osix Family–despite everything–is just barely seen.

I started to doubt myself. To question myself. Was I not doing enough. What more can I do. What should I do. Am I not good enough?

Is the story just not good enough?

That broke me. I began to have thoughts I shouldn't have. I wanted to end it all. I wanted to quit and disappear from the world. Because what was the point in pouring so much love into something only for it to dismissed.

Its not like I simply began having these thoughts.

I've had them over and over again.

As much as I hated involving him, my partner, Alex, had to deal with the many times I nearly ended it. To the point where even if he was in school, he'd go out of his way to stop me, I still feel guilty, even if he said it was fine.

I don't understand myself anymore.

Why do I even have such an attachment to this series? Its just a stupid silly series for funsies isn't it? Why does my life to depend on it?

Unfortunately, it just does.

It sucks. Pushing away my needs for the sake of this passion, only for it to just not go as I hoped it would go. Did I mention I'm also losing followers on the osix family blog? Thats so silly and coquette.

I'm so sorry if im coming off as guilt-trippy, please I don't want it to sound that way, I just want to express how deeply troubled I am because to me it actually DOES HURT.

I envy people who couldn't give a flying fuck about whether or not their stuff goes famous or gets love, I don't even understand why I am so dependent or hungry on whatever attention it gets. I hate that im like this. I want to be free from it but I just crave it.

So, for the sake of my mental health and whatever is left of my sanity, im taking a break, for good.

I will not be updating The Osix Family or Wilted Ivory at this very moment. For how long? It depends on how fucked up I have actually turned out to be today.

I might still post, keyword: MIGHT, its not any update but to just simply draw for myself, but the chances of me posting anything is horribly low.

I'm going to focus on myself, my needs, and whatever makes me happy or have fun with.

To those who supported The Osix Family or even bothered to check it out: Thank you, from the bottom of my heart.

It means a lot to me, you have NO idea. Every single like, reblog, comment, hype or even the silliest amounts of theories or thoughts, they make me so happy, it actually heals me.

I can't remember names im sorry, but there was a time someone expressed how they were invested in the lore and loved the world building, it really made my day. Or when someone pointed out some small details on my waiting in a miracle animatic, it warmed my heart.

I have troubles expressing it, but im so, SO greatful.

Especially when some of my mutuals started making OCS FOR THE SERIES?? Like– it felt like a HUGE compliment.

I cant believe im tearing up as im typing this haha im so stupid lmao, but

Thank you. A lot.

And to those who weren't really into The Osix Family, its okay, don't feel bad, sometimes things are just not our cup of tea, I just needed to express my grief, cause honestly bottling it up isn't going to end well for me (and it really didn't multiple times).

I apologize for any false hope or let down your hype as Wilted Ivory was just starting and The Osix Family was finally coming back– but this treatment is overwhelming me that I need to take a step back.

That's all for now.

Thank you for... actually reading, you listening means a lot to me too.

Goodbye.

#vent #tw vent #tw sui talk #tw sui attempt #cddwtd #casino cups #cuphead #cddwtd wilted ivory #the osix family #original ocs

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mikareo · 1 year ago

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“ ࣭⸰ ★ WHEN SPRING COMES . . . ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀呪術廻戦 ; megumi fushiguro x fem reader

⊹ ⠀⠀ your love for megumi can be compared to a snowflake; delicate and beautiful, stunning and unique. however, spring is coming— and eventually, all snowflakes have to melt. (1.2k)

contains; hanahaki au, rejection, angst, implied death author's note; this is 2 years old pls forgive me,, n hanahaki used to be my favorite trope IM SORRY I POST IT SM ajskl

it’s been over a decade, fifteen years really, of the never-ending winter that you’ve grown so accustomed to. the settled snow has been your comfort zone, a weighted blanket tying you down to his presence since primary school, freezing the ribbon that tied your heart to his for eternity— though only now, you realize that ribbon is a chain, shackling you to a hopeless series of unrequited feelings that could never be returned. you’ve imprisoned yourself to an idea of love that never was. love that you viewed as your personal one-of-a kind snowflake between the two of you; something special and passionate with no barriers or boundaries, which softly flurried around you for your entire lives...

...but snowflakes melt when they touch the ground.

the soft powder is nothing but water now; dirtied water on the blood-ridden pavement, speckled with pink petals of a flower that you used to love. the snowflake is dying. it’s dead. and spring has come.

“tilt your head up,” megumi murmurs with the softest, most lovely voice you’ve ever heard. “you’ve still got some on your chin.”

he’s being generous with his words. you know your skin is stained red, dripping with blood and broken leaves that refuse to be wiped away. luckily for you, he tells you that red is his favorite color— that the scarlet shade compliments your complexion and makes you look beautiful— but you know he’s lying.

the deep clots and black chunks would send anyone into a nauseous fit, he’s too kind to you.

you wish he would be horrible. that he’d hurdle insulting comments, awful remarks, and unforgivable curses— but he’d never.

— and you love him for that.

it’s too bad that he doesn’t feel the same.

he never has.

he never will.

“does that feel alright?” his washcloth is cold and damp. it’s a muddied mahogany after previously being a gorgeous forrest green. “it’s still warm, right?”

you nod, believing that one more lie won’t hurt your already dreadful situation. “i think you’ve got it all,” the reflection before you is one you recognize, a person of the past that you can’t seem to let go of no matter how many hours you spend wishing them away. “thank you, really.”

despite the normal appearance you now display, with rose-tinted cheeks and swollen eyes, there’s a garden growing in the sink. vines slithering their way down the drain as the water stream attempts to rid them from view. torn tulip petals are strewn across the bathroom floor, and in another life perhaps it would have been romantic to see a flower petal pathway leading towards the bedroom— that’s not your life though. you’ve been left with emptiness and a void of feelings with no return.

“i’m always here to hold your hair back, i hope you know that.” he smiles with kindness, a genuine goodness that can only be portrayed by him. he’s the best person you know. there’s no mystery as to why you fell for him all those years ago, and why that love has followed you through adulthood. “it’s almost pretty…y’know, in a morbid way.”

hm, funny. morbidly beautiful.

“yeah,” you reply in a snap. “maybe they can be my funeral flowers.”

you've made him angry.

“don’t even joke about that, what the hell?” megumi always gets upset when you say those type of things. his vision turns red and he’s blinded by his own sadness that he forgets that he’s the cause— he’s the calamity that uprooted your formally blissful life. he’s the one who fell in love with someone new.

winter could’ve lasted forever had he not gone to class that day.

it could raged onwards had he not met her.

you could’ve been hand-in-hand dancing beneath the moonlight on a snowy eve if she hadn’t asked for directions to the library. his kisses could’ve been peppering your face rather than hers if only you’d been more fun, more outgoing, more persuasive, more everything, then maybe he would’ve stayed.

but megumi didn’t stay...

...he left.

he left as the leaves grew on the barren trees and pollen drifted through the breeze. he said his brief goodbyes to your heart while his chased her’s in yearning. he didn’t so much as glance your way as the hanahaki roots planted themselves in your heart— only choosing to show concern after they’d already grown terminal. he disappeared from your point of view before you could even acknowledge his absence— which was and continues to be unfair.

megumi was yours and now he isn’t. it’s as simple as that. as awful and simple as that.

“we both know i’m dying.” you murmur, hands folded together as if they're the only things you have left to hang onto. you wish one of those hands could find their place in his warm palm, but the black marker ink etched onto his skin in the shapes of mini hearts and smiley faces are more than enough to drive you away. “there’s no point in denying it anymore. i can barely breathe.”

he shakes his head, backing away from you despite your obvious need for physical comfort.

you thought he knew you better than that. you thought he’d know exactly how to ease your pain, but he doesn’t. he’s very clearly not your soulmate, but for some reason your heart tells you otherwise.

“you’d be able to if you’d just get the surgery,” he says. “please.”

he's begging for something he could solve.

megumi's eyes look dark under the overhead light. “please don’t make me have to see you in a casket.”

the surgery in which the roots are removed from your heart is a tricky one. a procedure that many endure and survive, where they get to continue living their lives healthy and happy— though, are they truly living if they’re void of the love that once consumed them?

“i wouldn’t be able to live with myself, you know that.” your voice is firm, after having had this conversation many times before, “i’d know a part of me was missing. you’re too important for me to just…erase.”

if you’re being completely honest with yourself, you’d rather remain in your eternal winter for the rest of your soul’s existence. yes, it’s cold and dreary, with little to no sunlight and hope of a new love or progression in your relationship with him— but it’s familiar. you find it comfortable and there’s no fear in the feelings that you’re already so accustomed to living with everyday. the thought of spring is terrifying. the season following your beloved winter that represents rebirth and new blossoming love is one that you’ll never come to know— which is completely by choice. there’s no point in limping yourself towards spring when there’s no one you’d rather love than megumi.

these hanahaki tulips won’t see the sunshine they yearn for when the grass regains its color. they’ll simply wither away with you and the lock that refuses to fall, holding your feelings for him in an eternal slumber that will never be woken.

“i love you.” you say, whilst knowing that that’s the last thing he wants to hear. “i love you so much.”

your confessions of love are a reminder of your little time left, and he hates it.

he wishes it would all stop; but it can’t and it won’t.

perhaps he should’ve given you a chance when the opportunity arose. then you may have been happy. however, he knows that there’s no forcing love.

you’ve been doomed since the moment you’d laid eyes on him.

love isn't your happiness.

“i’ve only ever loved you.”

it's your demise.

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