#conditional love

[yeesiine]

May the love you give to others return to you multiplied and without conditions.

[un-doubtful-feelingz]

CONDITIONAL LOVE

p!yandere roommate x gn!older sibling reader x p!yandere family

TW: implied stalking, sabotage, emotional manipulation, disassociation, unhealthy coping mechanism, mental breakdown, and toxic dynamics.

l.name = last name

f.name = first name

You weren't their first choice.

You weren't their second choice nor third– not even fourth!

You were their last choice. Ironic, no?

Well, of course it was, but it wasn't like you knew… the full extent that is. You had an inkling, but they never confirmed or denied it. Not like they would, that at least you knew for certain, but it was fine, you suppose.

---

It was by accident that their eyes finally landed on their Mignonette. You were their roommate, and at first it pissed them off. They had planned every detail, down to the dormitory to finally be with their next Aster. Honestly, the major they are in now wasn't what they enjoyed, but their Aster was going into it so–…

They had to do what they had to do or in other words, all is fair in love and war.

A snort escaped their lips before silencing themselves. You look so vulnerable when you were sleeping, and the fact it took to the second semester to finally get you to sleep soundly with them in bed. "Tut. Mignonette, you really are so cruel to me." A soft whispered voice said on top of your head as they scrolled through the security cameras. Seeing how you went by your day earlier.

However, it wasn't until they moved in that they met you. Not their Aster.

Their light.

Their fuel for life that was slowly bleeding out of them when seeing your poor get together outfit and the eye bags underneath your measly eyes. In short, they hated you. Everything about you was just downright atrocious. Your looks, your eyes, your clothes.

Everything was a poor imitation of a human being.

It isn't until later they figured out that their Aster pulled out and quickly fixed you with them. Neither of the two shared a major. There was hardly an overlaps in personality. No wonder both parties got along like oil and water.

But of course, they couldn't ask to move or anything—not yet. They needed to know what happened with their Aster. So, obviously they had to play along till they got what they wanted.

They could do that. They were patient. Patient like a predator waiting to seek their teeth on the helpless little prey.

---

Over the course of the first half of the semester they did everything in their power to get under your nerves. Small little remarks, backhanded compliments, and even moving some of your stuff.

They tried a lot of stuff to get underneath your skin, but whatever you were made of was tough shit. Who can tolerate someone breaking their favorite cup?

Who could tolerate being told that what they're doing is amazing for a person like them?

Who can tolerate their entire actions being scrutinized?

You. Apparently.

It isn't until your first midterms that cracks started showing.

That is when they got intrigued.

---

They trotted into their room, dark hair being blown away from their face, and backpack hitting the floor of a weirdly clean room.

A quiet, solemn room clean room greeted them. They paused. Usually, there's sound. Any sort of sound. Like a weirdo, you always had some sort of song or melody playing, not too loud, but not too quiet either.

It happened for two weeks straight before they accepted it as the norm for this dorm room.

Yet it was quiet.

You were in the room. They were most certain of that because of the shoes near the door. They flicked on the lights, waiting for a reaction, a sound, anything.

Nothing.

That earned a raise eyebrow, they looked to the floor, checking if the shared bathroom lights were on. Nothing either. It's when they went deeper into the room that the tone of everything shifted.

---

There you were on your desk. Catatonic. There was hardly any light in your eyes. It was like there was nothing, but a husk in front of them. It's only when a hand was put on your shoulder, the husk looked up.

A shiver went down their spine.

How could eyes with barely any light seem so- soulless?

You didn't recognize them. Didn't made an effort to greet them or anything.

"(f.name)? (f.name)..? You in there?"

.

..

…

"…(l.name?)"

---

Your eyes watered instantously, the look of anger, hurt, and betrayal. You shoved them away, muttering curses, and glaring at someone.

They knew you weren't talking to them, but it felt like it did. Every curse, every emphasize word, every gesture. You were mad.

An anger that hit like a viper, waiting for an opening, shouts were like hisses, every dig into their character was like venom. You weren't seeing them, but it felt like it did.

"You- you absolute nobody! Taking away the attention because you're nothing with no light! Just what are you? Who are you? Nobody! Nobody is what you are if your precious spotlight isn't near you-..!"

It wasn't meant for them.

It felt like it did.

Your eyes widen, your hand going over your mouth, and suddenly- suddenly, those eyes with no light became the brightest. The sun hit them just right, and the Aster they sought after was pale compared to when you realized just where you are.

"I-I-I'm so sorry, I didn't mean- I!"

The tears that fell were like diamonds and you fell under an invisible weight that was abrading your eyes from shining to their fullest. It's probably not the healthiest way to fall in love, but they did.

For you.

Love came in many flavors and the ones they sought after before you were nothing more than the ones read in fairytales and media. The one they sought from you however, was more innocent, ironically.

They wanted those eyes to shine, but not through the pain that was constantly prohibiting it and endorsing it when it became too much.

There was never an urge to care for someone. To see them in their brightest. They wanted a partner for the longest time to stay with them. Be with them. To have them only in their minds.

You didn't have to because the moment, they met you on your lowest, you've already fallen. Holding their sweater tightly and breaking apart. Shards that poked, but never drew blood.

The moment they wrapped you in their arms, shoved the rolling chair away and had their back facing the wall whilst murmuring soft affirmations. You were puddy. Not wanting to let go, but too terrified to let go because you never had this before.

Never felt the hands of another person that didn't want anything in return.

---

You would feel embarrassed, later on.

You would continue to apologize when you cried, when you shouted, when you couldn't endure anything anymore.

Every shove, every word, every remark was followed by an apology unless there wasn't an ill intent behind.

And they continued to offer a shoulder, run their fingers up your scalp, and whispering sweet poison to you because they wanted you.

They were the first person to ever choose you, no matter how much venom they sink into your bloodstream because they at least didn't dug their nails into your skin.

They didn't ask for anything physical or a favor. Just attention. Just your companionship.

They didn't nitpick your choices or pointed out mistake. They encouraged it, even apologized for their earlier behavior and continued to apologize through other methods.

They remembered little facts about yourself, but sometimes they were a little too accurate-.

---

They were the first person to choose you first.

Your eyes opened, you didn't want to wake up, but the fingers massaging your scalp helped a little. "Now, now go back to sleep, Mignonette." A little noise escaped your lips, the blanket was tucked up higher, stopped by your nose, and suddenly the body agreed. "Go to sleep… soon…."

A soft chuckled escaped their lips, they gave a hum as a response, but it didn't reach your ears. Your body evened out, soft in-takes of breath, and your face was relax. They caress the parts that were exposed; soft and lazy. "I will do so, soon Mignonette. I just want to see your beautiful face a little longer in this state before I do so."

They know that now.

So, they'll make sure you remember this feeling continuously so, that you will never find a reason to find it in another because they are enough. They should be enough.

If it takes a bit for you to finally realized that, then so be it. Now, if only your kin knew when to stop… that'll be great. Fantastic even.

I tried to challenge all the edits of Radiohead into this because the choir version of Let Down is continuously playing in my FYP on Insta and I'm downright wanting to sob because of the pain I feel.

Yes, I'm fine! So, no need to worry, it's just I'm kinda- emotional constipation? If you know what I mean? Writing and art are my outlets and seeing the Artemis edits, dinosaurs, and the other ones using the Let Down - Choir Version by Radiohead, really know when to draw the string.

So, hopefully I played with the emotions, correctly! Hopefully. Sorry for any pain I caused. I try to hold some punches when it comes to writing angst/emotional stuff.

Tell me if I miss any tags or warnings, again posting toward while I'm somewhat tired, still tired. So, changes may or may not happen!

[nova-moon13]

[concreteroses]

Casual

Choke me.

Rip through skin and tell me that I've earned it.

Turn romance into a dirty secret that secretes mutual disfiguration.

A warm smile that asks to bare teeth to chew through innocence.

And when we're done

Entangled in fluid, regret, and each other

The Holy Trinity

Consensual emotional ruin

Because mutual exclusivity isn't needed in war

[gingermcl]

Emotionally immature parents often do not treat love as something freely given away. Instead love is something that is earned, maintained, or withdrawn based on how well their child complies with expectations and the parents emotional needs. Immature individuals lack a stable inner sense of self, so they regulate their emotions through other people, especially their children. This quietly turns the relationship into a transaction or contract: you get closeness and approval only if you keep me comfortable.

In these situations, affection appears and disappears based on obedience. When the child agrees, performs, or stays in line, the parent is warm and approving. When the child disagrees, shows independence, or behaves in a way the parent doesn’t approve of the warmth turns into coldness, negative comments or insults, withdrawal, or sulking. The child learns love is not stable and safety depends on staying in the parent’s good graces.

Guilt is a common tool. Phrases like, “After everything I’ve done for you,” or “If you loved me, you wouldn’t do this,” teach the child that autonomy is betrayal and that love is measured by self-sacrifice. loyalty slowly becomes synonymous with self-erasure.

Love is also often tied to roles rather than to the child as a person. The “good” child is the one who complies, helps, and doesn’t challenge the parent’s emotional comfort. The “difficult” child is the one who separates, questions, or grows. Warmth and approval go to the role, not to the real person.

Instead of addressing conflict directly, these parents often use emotional punishment: withdrawing affection, creating tension, or acting hurt until the child gives in. Over time, the child learns a damaging equation: love equals compliance. The deeper problem is that the parent cannot tolerate a relationship with a separate individual. For an emotionally immature parent, love is not about mutual respect, but about maintaining comfort and control through the child’s behavior.

[somewhere-dreaming-her1]

My parents love me so much.

I know they would do anything for me.

I know how much they’ve sacrificed

and tolerated just for me.

And I feel guilty. almost ashamed.

that I will never be the child

they wanted me to be.

How sad it is

to love the idea of your children

but not truly your children.

There are no words to soothe the pain

of our sheer differences.

The stark contrast is evident.

There are no words in the world

to explain to them

that I might be a mistake.

a born devil

for their demise.

[valorsou1]

love should not cost a thing and if its conditional, then its not love. Love is being gentle and careful

[boutiquetraveltravelboutique]

On the subject of monetising hobbies, hustle culture really feeds into the commodification of friendships.

I meet someone at a cooking class, we bond over a metal band and 19th c. literature, and we become friends. Even when we don't share in a particular hobby, both of us are happy to listen to the other talk about it.

Then they publish a self-help book, or start selling dog treats or essential oils for extra income. Our dynamic changes from friends on equal terms to include seller and potential consumer.

Our nonmonetised hobbies, shared or otherwise, the very things that brought us together, are affected, too. Common interests were enough when we were bonding over a free activity, but now there's a price attached, the expectation is that a good friend, someone who cares, will pay it.

Is it enough to buy the ebook instead of the paperback? Do I get a pass on buying dog treats if I don't have a dog? If I have no money but I tell five or ten or thirty people about their essential oil range, am I being supportive? If I buy a similar product elsewhere, even if I'd been doing so for years before we even met, am I actively sabotaging their livelihood?

Am I a good enough friend? Am I a good enough consumer?