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gojotojis · 15 days

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Butterfly pt. 1

part two

This story will contain sexual assault, I beg you not to read if it will trigger you.

summary: you’re spiraling after a traumatic sexual experience and the only person that sees it is your neighbor.

pairing: gojo satoru x fem reader

content MDNI: mentions of sexual assault, sexual assault, alcohol abuse, depression, anxiety, drugs, ptsd, trauma, age gap, mentions of death/murder via movies

Note: this is actually so personal to me so pls be kind. this is a genuine depiction of my assault, this is me coping. I am in no way glorifying or romanticizing sexual assault, again this is my story. Writing is when I feel most safe and we are all strangers so I’m okay sharing this. Any hate, blame or criticism will be immediately blocked. Also virginity is a social construct.

April

You had been so eager to give away your virginity, and he seemed so nice. He knew all the right things to say, how to make you feel like he really liked you.

He said he was a virgin which made you feel safe and comfortable enough to sleep with him. It started out as kissing which led to more.

You couldn’t help how nervous you were, frozen until he was flipping you onto your stomach. You became terrified when you felt him nudging at your back entrance.

“No,” you breathe, your heart hammered in your chest. You swatted at him but he forced your hands down.

“Please stop” you beg as you tried to squirm away, crying as you felt him pushing into you, tearing you open. You screamed, it was painful and he pulled away.

Your fingers swiped where he hurt you and blood coated them. You crawled away from him until you were grabbing your clothes and running away.

You’re traumatized, but it only worsens when you ignore him for days and he blows your phone up calling you a slut, ugly, fat and a whore.

He spams your phone with videos of him having sex with other girls, him telling you how you don’t compare and that he lied about being a virgin.

You feel like shit, and he pushes it further when he spams your Instagram and messages your friends, flirting with them and saying awful things about you.

You finally block him but the damage is done.

You loved reading more than anything but when a sex scene comes, you’re taken back to that night and the book is ruined.

You can still feel him forcing himself inside of you, it’s like it won’t stop. You cry in the shower, scrubbing your skin till it’s red and raw, hating yourself, blaming yourself for letting this happen.

For being so desperate that you gave something so intimate away to someone so awful.

You tell no one, too ashamed and disgusted with yourself .

Beginning of August

You climb up the stairs, AirPods on full volume with a Mitski song playing. Your fingers tap against your thigh as you hum to yourself.

You’re not paying attention, letting out a small ‘hmph’ when you collide with soemthing hard and fall to the floor on your butt. You’re embarrassed as you look up at the tall man looking down at you.

His hands outstretch to you as his mouth moves but you can’t hear anything over your AirPods. You spot his phone beside you, and grab it. You don’t take his hand as you stand up on your own but you do hand him his phone.

He’s peculiar to say the least, he’s always either wearing a black flindfold or sunglasses, today he’s wearing the blindfold. You have the urge to ask him why he wears it but that’s invasive and rude.

He moved in two months ago right across from you. He’s usually gone for days on end but when he is home, he’s always asking to borrow something from you whether it’s sugar, milk or eggs.

It’s slightly annoying but you’re too scared to tell him, you wonder if he’s ever heard of a grocery store.

His lips are still moving so you pull your AirPods out. “Huh?” You ask, furrowing your brows and lips parting

“Are you okay?” He asks and you nod staring up at him. You think he must be blind, literally and feel actually awful.

“I’m sorry, I should’ve been paying attention,” you say and then it dawns on you, what if he doesn’t go to a grocery store because he can’t see. You start overthinking and guilt racks through you.

“It’s my fault really, what are you listening to?” he asks, you’re confused how he knows you’re listening to music but then again it was blasted. You hold your phone up to him and then internally slap yourself. “Mitski, it’s called I bet on losing dogs,” you explain and he nods.

“I love that song,” he says and your eyes widen, he doesn’t look like he listens to her.

“What’s your favorite song?” You ask, genuinely curious. “What’s yours?” He asks and you don’t know why that makes you laugh for the first time in months. “I bet on losing dogs,” you say.

“That’s my favorite too,” he says, and you wonder if he’s flirting with you. Part of you blushes but the other part of you panics. Does he just want to sleep with you and hurt you? You try to shove the thought down, he asked a simple question.

“I should get going” you say staring at your shoelaces.

“See you around y/n” he says before he’s walking off and you wonder how he knows your name, you never once shared it with him and he’s never shared his.

Mid August

Your head tips back, eyes rolling. The sound of music drowns out as you feel yourself nearly seizing from the red and purple strobe lights. You’ve lost count of how many times you’ve blacked out, your mouth tastes disgusting and your throat burns. The cause of it, lying in a puddle on the floor.

You lift your head up, to try and comprehend your surroundings. The girl beside you leans down, holding a rolled up dollar and snorts the thin white line off the table.

She sniffs and turns to you, offering you the dollar, you vowed to never touch that shit but part of you wonders if it’ll make you feel good, the way the alcohol does.

Your brains screaming no, begging you to leave but your fingers grasp it and she dumps more onto the table. She lines it up with a credit card and you hesitantly lean down, you choke a little as you snort it and sniff.

You slump against the sofa and slowly feel it take its effect. Your body feels so fucking heavy, it’s like you’re wearing a meat suit. You lift your fingers up and watch as they multiply when you wiggle them around, the girl pulls you up and drags you to the dance floor.

You’re like a rag doll in her arms as she makes you dance. Your head tilts back staring at the ceiling and you laugh, it’s dark and intoxicated. The music suddenly feels amplified and you’re clutching your ears, so fucking overstimulated and you panic, feeling the bodies grinding against you.

Your eyes water when you feel hands grip your waist from behind and they press against you. You’re pulling away from them and stumbling through the crowd, fighting your way to the exit.

Fresh air hits your lungs the moment you step outside and you inhale, closing your eyes.

Home, you have to go home.

You ignore the several people that ask if you’re okay as you stumble down the sidewalk, heels clicking against the pavement.

Relief fills you at the sight of your apartment building, once you reach it, you’re climbing the stairs until you miss a step and fall down. Your head smacks against the floor and little black spots cloud your vision.

“Fuck!” you hear, almost certain it’s your mind playing tricks on you until you feel large and warm hands gripping your face. Their touch is like electricity against your skin.

“Please let me die,” you mutter as a familiar blind folded face comes into view. He’s waving a finger infront of you and you go cross eyed.

“What did you take?” He tries to ask you but your hearing is muffled. His face is blurred but you can make out his lips moving.

You lift your arms up and reach for his face, your fingers graze over his lips and he stills. They’re soft and pink.

His hand gently grabs your wrist and moves your arm back down to your sides. His head tilts like he’s studying you as your vision slowly recovers along with your hearing.

“Can you hear me?” He asks and you nod weakly. He sighs before you feel his arm hook under your knees and the other around your back. He lifts you up and you shake against him.

“Please don’t hurt me,” you beg, his brows furrow but he doesn’t say anything. You’re trembling as he walks you to his apartment. He’s gonna hurt you, he’s gonna trap you and hurt you.

You squirm in his hold until you’re out of his arms and sliding down the wall. You cover your face and pull your knees to your chest. His hand touches your knee and you scoot away. He immediately retracts it.

“I’m not gonna hurt you, I promise” he says as you peek between your fingers. His expression is so genuine, and concerned but he’s a man and you don’t trust them. Your brain feels like it’s working overtime trying to think as he lifts his pinky up.

“Please let me help you,” he says, his voice is soft as he kneels infront of you. Your shaky hand reaches toward his and your pinky wraps around his.

He smiles gently, and helps you up. He unlocks the door and guides you inside. You’re too fucked up to take in his apartment.

He pours a glass of water and hands it to you, before he’s handing you two pills of advil. Your pupils are dilated and you look so out of it, your breath reeks of vomit and vodka.

He’s not use to this, any of it. He’s never been in this situation and it’s frustrating because he wants to help you, he knows there’s an underlying reason why you shake and flinch from his touch. The way your eyes survey all exits and keep distance between you two.

Everytime he’s seen you in the halls, you’re listening to music in your own little world with your head down. You’re always shy, and timid.

“You can take my bed and I’ll take the floor,” he says not wanting to leave you alone incase you have a concussion.

Your throat tightens at the idea of sleeping in his bed, at falling unconscious where he can so easily hurt you but you’re tired, so fucking tired.

You hug yourself as you attempt to walk into the only bedroom in the apartment. You slowly climb into the bed, curling into a ball. He watches you from the doorframe, trying to make sense of what his eyes can’t tell him.

When morning comes, you’re gone.

September

You sigh, sifting through your purse for your keys. You push through several empty travel bottles of vodka and tampons, coming up empty. You hear two things behind you, keys jingling and a meow.

You turn around, one hand is holding your keys while the other has a black kitten pressed against his chest. You only care about the kitten at this point, you look up at him and he’s smiling at you.

“You dropped your keys,” he says but you’re itching to touch the fur ball in his arms.

“What’s it’s name?” You whisper not wanting to scare it.

“Dunno, just found him outside,”he says and you slowly reach out, petting the baby. It’s little mouth let’s out the most broken meow but it’s fierce and you smile.

“Are you gonna keep it?” You ask and he shakes his head making you frown. He walks toward his door and starts unlocking it.

“I can’t, I work too much” he says, opening his door. He walks inside, leaving the door open. You awkwardly stand there before peeking inside. You feel embarrassed about the events from two weeks ago, you’ve avoided him since. You can’t imagine what he must think of you.

You slowly walk inside, fingers clutching the ends of your oversized sweater anxiously. He sets the little guy on the floor and you immediately shut the door not wanting him to runaway.

“He’s gonna need formula,” you say, carefully dropping to your knees. You pull your hair from its ponytail and fling the tie across the floor. You giggle watching the cat dart after it.

You feel his eyes on you as absurd as it may sound considering the blind fold but you do. His lips twitch as he watches you play with the kitten.

“What’s your name?” you ask, something that’s been on your mind lately.

“Satoru, Satoru Gojo,” he says and you hum. It’s pretty.

“Thank you, for the other night. I’m sorry I kind of lost it on you,” you say, watching the cat run at you as your hand drags across the floor like a spider before it tickles him. His little feet kick at your wrist but it’s like a feather hitting you.

“That happen often?” He asks.

“No” you lie, admittedly you usually stop before you get super fucked up and you hadn’t touched coke till then. He doesn’t push and you’re grateful for it.

“So what’s the song of the day?” He asks and your brows furrow, arms chasing after the cat who starts running sideways.

“You must have another song you like,” he says shrugging.

“K. by Cigarettes After Sex, let me guess. That’s your favorite song of theirs too,” you say and he smiles.

“It’s like you’re stalking me,” he says and you laugh, it’s the cutest thing he’s ever heard, more so than the little creature that’s clawing his way up your thighs. His claws hooking into your jeans, determined to get you.

“Favorite album?”He asks and you indulge him.

“That’s hard, there’s so many,” you say, pulling the cat off before he can claw up your sweater.

“Top five,” he says making it slightly easier for you.

“Brand new eyes by paramore, all lana del rey albums, Trilogy by The Weeknd, anything FKA twigs and Wiped out by the neighborhood. You?” You ask and he shrugs, leaning against the doorframe to his bedroom.

“I don’t listen to music,” he says and your face scrunches, musics your love language and your safety net. It speaks and conveys what you can’t.

“Not one song?” And he shakes his head. His life must be so lonely and boring, you frown.

“I did listen to that Mistki song though, depressing much?” He asks and you roll your eyes.

“Well, yes but that’s what makes it so good,” you say and he doesn’t argue. You wish you could see his eyes, eyes speak a thousand words.

“Favorite movie?” He asks, this is sadly the most anyone’s ever asked about you, you feel guilty that part of you is living for this attention.

“Bones and All, Suspiria, Django Unchained, Dune and Pearl,” you say.

“I’m seeing a pattern here,” he says and you raise a brow. “You don’t listen to music but you watch movies? And what may that be?” You ask. The little voice in the back of your head is begging you to go home, he’s only doing this to get in your pants, why else.

“Nah but one of my students seen some of them, I’ve heard all about Pearl and her axe,” he says, watching the kitten swat your hair tie around.

“She’s just a girl,”you shrug, and his lips tug into a smirk. You don’t like the feeling that takes over, the butterflies that swarm your stomach. Handsome doesn’t do him justice, he’s beautiful even when you can’t see his eyes. From his undercut to his jaw, and his tall lanky stature, he carries himself like he’s the highest predator up the food chain. It’s not threatening, it’s…sexy.

“I forgot American Psycho” you add and his eyebrows raise nearly to his hairline before he’s bursting into laughter.

“What? It’s hilarious satire and Christian Bale is…hot,” you say. He wants to ask you a question but thinks better of it, this is the most you’ve ever spoke and he doesn’t want it to end.

“Are you a teacher?” you ask, lingering on what he said moments ago.

“Yeah, you?” he asks. You dropped out of college, feeling too stupid and incompetent, in all honesty you’ve never seen a future for yourself and it feels embarrassing.

“Bookstore,” you say.

“So you like books?” he asks and you give him a look that screams ‘duh’.

“I do, I’d tell you my favorite book but you probably already know it since it’s yours too,” you say as the kitten comes running at you. You gently slide him across the floor and he runs back, loving it.

“Guilty, but you should probably tell me just incase we aren’t on the same page,” he says, you hate the smiles he keeps making appear on your face.

“Normal People”you say, you wonder why he wants to know all these things and what they matter to him.

“It’s like we’re the same person,” he says, you wonder if this works on the girls. You don’t want it to work on you.

“He looks like a Salem,” you say looking at the black cat that’s just obsessed with you.

“I think he’s found his mom,” Gojo says and you want to argue against it but you don’t because he’s right, you’re keeping him.

End of September

You sit on the couch with Salem curled in your lap and a bowl of popcorn beside you, you’re ready to start the movie until someone’s knocking on your door. You feel your anxiety fester but push it down.

You carry the kitten as you walk to the door and look through the peep hole. Your breathing hitches at the sight of Gojo in sunglasses, you swear he hasn’t been home in two weeks but like he said he’s always working.

Now that you think of it, that’s so odd. He’s a teacher who’s never home and works odd hours. You try not to overthink it as you open the door.

Gojo beams at you and the little guy in your arms. He reaches out and starts scratching underneath Salems little chin which sends him into a purring fit.

“Hi,” he says.

“Hey,” you answer, unsure of what else to say.

“What are you doing?” He asks.

“I was gonna watch a movie,” you say looking back at the lit tv screen, but you remember he can’t see.

“Pearl?” He asks and you’re slightly eager to put it on for him. Your life is lonely, you’ve stopped talking to everyone. Your bestfriend pushed you away months ago and nobodies really cared to see that you’re okay. Your mom and grandma constantly call but you can only take so much criticism.

You try to contemplate the pros and cons. Gojos been nothing but nice, he’s slightly funny and because of him you have Salem. Cons: he’s flirty and a man. Your stomach stirs, and your body tenses as you open your mouth.

“Would you like to watch it with me?” you ask, trying not to let your mind wander off to that dark place in your head.

“Okay,” he says and you step back, letting him enter your dim apartment. He takes his shoes off and looks around, taking in the hues of greens, browns and white along with the various plants that take up space.

There’s a picture of you as a little girl with two other kids that look just like you, a boy and girl on the wall, some family photos, graduation picture and baby pictures. You were so adorable, still are.

Your place is a contrast to his. His is fairly empty with a few hints of grey, white and navy.

He sits on the opposite end of the couch as you put on Pearl, Salem leaves you to cuddle in Gojos lap. Traitor.

“Song of the day?” he asks before you start the movie.

“Good to love by FKA twigs” you say and hit play.

You usually hate when someone talks during a movie but you’re desperately wanting to know his thoughts during every scene. He laughs through most of it,

“Did she really just set her mom on fire and then leave to go have sex?” He asks, you bite your lip. “She’s just a girl,” you say and he shakes his head. You reach into the bowl for popcorn and feel his fingers graze yours, his touch is like static and you get goosebumps. You pull away as subtly as possible, you hope you don’t give off the wrong message by all of this.

“She’s deranged,” he says as she stabs the projectionist with a pitchfork repeatedly.

“Christ, who gave this girl an alligator,”he says when Pearl pushes the man’s car into a pond and an alligator eats at his remains.

By the time the movies over, he’s leaving. He says he has to work in the morning but he types away at his phone before handing it to you, your names written on a contact, waiting for your number.

You try to hide your surprise and hesitantly type your number in.

October

Gojo: song?

you: Haunted by Beyonce

Gojo: starting to think you’re working for the government

you: how so

Gojo: only a fed would know all my favorite songs

you: you sound crazier than pearl

Gojo: utterly insane

You enjoy Gojo’s company, still hesitant but he hasn’t given you a reason not to trust him.

Mid October

You hum to The Party and the After Party by The Weeknd, sending a link to Gojo as you walk.

You: song of the century

Read at 8:08pm

You’ve been crafting a playlist for him, you’re embarrassed by it though, what if he thinks it’s lame. You title it ‘Peals Greatest Hits’ and make the cover a picture of pearl with a pitchfork, you think he’ll laugh at that.

It’s nice having a friend again.

You wait for Gojo to respond but he doesn’t, he’s probably busy. This time he’s been gone for three days and you don’t question it. You’ve managed to learn little things about him, he’s told you about his students Megumi, Yuji, and Nobara.

He even raves about his students from last year, Toge, Yuta, Maki and a student he simply calls P, you tried to ask what the P stands for and he said Pedro which you laughed, kind of an uncommon name here but you don’t push it.

He’s mentioned his family and the pressure they’ve put on him, how he’s like the golden child of his family.

He actually laughed when you asked if he was blind, your cheeks heated up as he told you he has really bad sensitivity with his eyes which still made you feel bad for him.

You reach your building and start your walk upstairs, eager to see your cat but stop when you reach the top. You’re not sure why it bothers you when you see Gojo with a woman going inside his apartment. She’s pretty, sharp features and glossy eyes. A mole under her right eye. You wait for them to go inside before you make your way to your apartment.

Maybe you’re a creep but you stare through the peephole for what feels like hours, waiting for her to leave but she never does. You wonder if Gojo has a girlfriend, wouldn’t he have mentioned it? But then again he’s a man, when do they ever.

End of October: Halloween

You try not to feel insecure in your pink tights and red bodysuit, this is the most revealing you’ve looked since before that night.

You watch as a row of lemon drop shots line up infront of you, the girls you’ve made friends with since you came in, all cheer and clap as you knock back shot after shot. You order six more courtesy of your blonde friends tab, the bar tenders hesitant but you bat your lashes and just like that you’re getting your way.

The liquor helps to take away from the insecurities, you stop worrying if your stomachs too big or your arms too bulky and relax. Several hands pull you to the dance floor and you dance with them, one of the girls hands you a blunt and you smoke it. You spend the night smoking and drinking till you’re absolutely fucking cross faded.

Once you’re at your apartment building, you’re literally crawling up the stairs. You stop when two sets of shoes come into your view, you slowly look up to Gojo and the woman from two weeks ago looking down at you.

“Should we call someone?” The woman asks.

“Nah, she’s mine,” Gojo says pulling you up off the floor. You stumble backwards but he catches you before you fall, pulling you toward him.

“I’ll see you later” the woman says, walking off and he nods. He’s scooping you up into his arms.

“What are you suppose to be?” He asks.

“Scarwit bitch” you slur and he laughs.

“Scarlett Witch?” He asks and you nod.

You’re disappointed when he takes your keys and opens your apartment door. He carries you to your bedroom.

“What did you do, rob Barbie?” he asks looking around your pink room, you’re too tired to comment as he sets you down on your bed.

He brushes your hair out of your face.

“Thanks Toru,” you whisper.

November

Gojo: you hungry?

You: yes…

Gojo: what do you want to eat?

You: pizza, meat lovers and Hawaiian.

Gojo: pineapple on pizza? we have to find a dealbreaker eventually

Gojo: in or out?

You: in

Half an hour passes and there’s a knock on your door. You open it to Gojo with two boxes of pizza, he sets them down while you grab plates.

“song?” He asks, he hasn’t missed a day and you don’t know that he’s made a playlist with each one you give him.

“Kimdracula by deftones,” he subtly adds the song to his playlist as you open up the box. Your belly rumbles as you take a slice of each.

He wastes no time, eating while you take little nibbles. You don’t like eating infront of people, not after being so degraded on your body by the only person that’s seen it naked. Your appetite sours and you set your pizza down.

“Do want to watch X? It’s the technical sequel to Pearl,” you say, he couldn’t give a shit about that deranged girl but you like her so he likes her.

He nods and you wash the pizza grease from your hands, he does the same and you both are moving to the couch. Salem jumps up, of course he picks Gojo as you shuffle through your movie selection before clicking on X.

You feel your face redden forgetting they’re literal fucking pornstars filming porn.

“She looks exactly like Pearl, what the fuck,” he says and you laugh.

You subtly look away, during the sex scenes. They aren’t unbearable but it’s just uncomfortable for you.

“Like sixty years later and she’s still creepy as shit” he says when it gets to the scene of Pearl staring over Maxine while she sleeps.

Gojo actually leans forward pushing his sunglasses up, utterly engrossed in the movie as everyone starts getting killed off one by one. He cringes at Lorraine’s death which you do too. And he cheers when Maxine runs over Pearls head.

“You can have Pearl, Maxine’s mine” he says making you roll your eyes.

“Guess you’ll be happy to know Maxine has her own movie coming out next year” you say.

“Oh we’re so seeing that,” he says and you internally smile but that little voice in the back of your head reminds you, he’s just a man.

You try to ignore it but you feel inclined to ask, “Do you have a girlfriend?”

“What?” He asks with his brows raised.

You actually feel silly asking the question, because how are you supposed to casually mention the girl you’ve seen him with without sounding like a stalker.

“Just asking,” you say innocently.

“Nah, I never have the time for that stuff. Ive been on dates but that’s about it,” he says and you can’t help that words that blurt out.

“So you’re a virgin?” you internally slap yourself once the words leave your lips.

“No” he says laughing at how hard you’re blushing.

“Sorry, I don’t mean to be invasive” you say and he shakes his head.

“It’s fine,” he’s hesitant to ask but he does.

“Are you a virgin?” he asks and tears roll down your cheeks.

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tainsan · 10 months

Text

misfits IX

⇥ pairing: ot8 ateez x fem! reader

⇥ warnings: physical fights, anxiety, depression, mentions of suicide, mentions of blood, character death, suicidal thoughts and intentions

⇥ word count: 7.2k

⇥ a/n: in this chapter it may be very triggering to those who have gone through abusive, suicidal, life threatning situations. read with care please. i love you all!

⇢ masterlist ⇠

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--- THIS IS AN 18+ FANFICTION MINORS DO NOT INTERACT ---

Making your way towards school, a sense of unease settles within you, noticing that the usually bustling entrance appears strangely vacant. Only a few faces pass by, and a heavy silence hangs in the air, contrasting starkly with the usual lively atmosphere. Your footsteps echo in the quiet corridor as you head towards your classroom, a knot of anticipation forming in your stomach. Suddenly, a group of girls rush past you, their voices filled with excitement and urgency. Initially, you try to ignore their chatter, focusing on reaching your destination. However, a particular snippet of conversation seizes your attention, causing your heart to skip a beat. The words spoken are like a thunderclap in your ears, freezing you in your tracks. Unable to resist, you strain your ears, desperate to catch any further information. Their voices carry a mix of shock and speculation, creating an unsettling tension in the air. The words they speak seem to hang in the silence, seeping into your consciousness and intensifying your growing sense of dread. Your heart pounds in your chest, a combination of fear and curiosity gripping you.

“Apparently the whole friend group was being vicious to her, her brother just found out and is going to sort that piece of shit out.”

Your world threatens to crumble around you, the words of the girl echoing in your mind, panic surges through your veins, propelling you into action. Without a second thought, you sprint in the direction where the two people vanished, your heart pounding in your chest. With each stride, your determination intensifies, fuelled by a mix of fear and concern for your dear friend's well-being. Rounding a corner, you are met with a disturbing sight—a crowd of people gathered in a tight circle, their collective energy palpable. Anxiety grips your entire being as you push your way through the throng, desperately trying to reach the centre of attention.

Amidst the sea of faces, you hear a heart-wrenching cry, instantly recognizing it as Hwa's voice. Panic tightens its grip around you, urging you to hasten your steps. Finally, at the front of the crowd, you witness the harrowing scene before you, a confrontation between Hwa and another student named Dae. Hwa lies on the ground, blood trickling from his broken lip, while Dae stands over him, seething with anger.

Protective instincts kicking in, overwhelming your senses as you attempt to break through the circle of onlookers. Determination fuels your efforts, urging you to reach Hwa, to shield him from further harm, and to remove him from this dangerous situation. But just as you're about to reach him, a restraining hand grips your shoulder, digging into your skin, effectively holding you back.

Turning to face your captor, you recognize him as one of Dae's friends, a knot of frustration and anger forming in your chest. Desperation fills your voice as you plead with him to let go, to release you so you can help your injured friend. The intensity of the moment heightens, with emotions swirling in a tumultuous mix of fear, anger, and the unwavering desire to ensure Hwa's safety.

“You are a piece of trash, Park.” Dae speaks, his voice echoing around the hallway.

“Leave me alone, please.” Hwa’s voice is broken and trembling, causing tears to fall from your eyes, still urgently trying to free yourself from the grip you are being held in.

“Did you and your friends really think you could get away with hurting my baby sister?” Dae growls, his anger evident as he grabs Hwa by the collar of his shirt, pulling him up to meet his face.

“Please, I don’t know what you are talking about.” Hwa exclaims, his voice still as soft as it has always been, tears falling from his eyes.

“Look at you playing dumb.” In a harrowing display of cruelty, Dae continues to taunt and assault Hwa, revelling in the encouragement of the cheering crowd. Horror overtakes you as you witness the repeated acts of violence, unable to bear the sight of your friend being subjected to such brutality.

A primal scream escapes your throat, a desperate plea for the torment to cease. The sound reverberates through the air, carrying with it the depth of your anguish and the plea for mercy. Every inch of your being is consumed with the need to protect Hwa, to shield him from further harm. Summoning all your strength, you manage to break free from the grip that had held you back, propelled by a surge of adrenaline. Falling to your knees at Hwa's side, you cradle his head in your trembling hands, tears streaming down your face in anguish and disbelief.

In that moment, time seems to stand still as you take in the sight before you; one of your closest friends, someone you have grown to love, now bearing the physical scars of this vicious assault. The weight of the situation settles heavily upon you, powering a mix of anger, sorrow, and an unwavering determination to protect and support Hwa in any way possible.

Gently, you caress his bruised face, your touch an offering of comfort and reassurance amidst the chaos. Your voice trembles as you speak softly, vowing to be there for him, to stand by his side through the pain and the healing process. Unconditional love and unwavering loyalty radiate from your every word and touch, as you silently vow to do whatever it takes to ensure Hwa's well-being and seek justice for the injustice inflicted upon him.

“___.” Hwa exclaims, anxious as to why you have appeared here, involving yourself in his drama, wanting you to get as far away as possible from here.

“It’s okay, I’ve got you.”

“What have we here?” Dae questions, confused as to why you of all people would come to Hwa’s rescue.

Gaze lifting towards Dae, a surge of anger courses through your veins, fuelling a fierce determination to confront the source of your friend's suffering. The sight of him, callously laughing at Hwa's pain, ignites a burning rage within you.

“Fuck off Dae.” Your voice is bitter, threatening the man to stay away.

The laughter echoing around you intensifies the flames of fury within you, driving an indignant rage that propels you forward. The collective amusement of the crowd only strengthens your resolve to shield Hwa from any further harm. With a surge of determination, you crouch down beside Hwa, carefully slipping your arms underneath his shoulders. Your touch is gentle yet firm, as you lift him off the cold ground, cradling him in your embrace. Every movement is executed with utmost care, your focus solely on safeguarding him from any additional pain. The weight of Hwa's body against yours serves as a reminder of the vulnerability and fragility of the person you hold dear. Your protective instincts surge forth, serving as a shield against the cruelty that surrounds you.

Burning with a commitment to defend and nurture, you cast a defiant glance towards those who have found amusement in Hwa's suffering. The fury in your eyes mirrors the flames of indignation that rage within your heart. With determination etched upon your face, you steadily navigate through the crowd, disregarding the laughter and jeers that continue to echo in the air. Your focus remains solely on Hwa, your every movement calculated to ensure his safety and well-being.

“So, the mute girl finally decided to speak up. It’s a shame you are such a bitch, you are actually quite pretty.” Dae taunts you, his disgusting eyes scanning you up and down as if he is checking you out, making you feel utterly gross.

“Fuck off.” You repeat, pulling Hwa with you, away from the crowd.

“You are not going anywhere, sweet cheeks.” Dae exclaims, walking behind you and pulling on your hair harshly, causing you to topple backwards, Hwa falling with you, yet he manages to keep standing.

Your body collides with the unforgiving concrete floor, a sharp pain courses through your back, causing you to wince in agony. The impact steals your breath away, leaving you momentarily stunned and vulnerable. Yet, amidst the throbbing ache, the sound of Hwa's concerned voice calling out your name breaks through the haze. His worry for you fills the air, intertwining with the growing fury that consumes his being. Ignoring the pain that reverberates through his own body, Hwa crouches down towards you, taking your body into his grip, offering support and a lifeline in this moment of despair. With a grateful nod, you reach out to accept his hold, the touch of his warm skin bringing a sense of solace and reassurance.

“I’m okay.” You manage to whisper, Hwa helping you to your feet, you groan, your back extremely painful from the impact of the flooring.

“Look at this cute couple, guys.” Dae exclaims to the crowd, causing the crowd to erupt with noise. Satisfied with the reaction, Dae turns back to you and Hwa, who is fuming with anger.

“Why do you look so angry, Hwa?” Dae mocks the nickname you so tenderly call him, causing the boy who you call your closest friend, to see fiery red.

Before one can fully grasp the unfolding events, Hwa swiftly delivers a powerful punch directly to Dae's jaw. As a result, Dae finds himself sprawled on the floor, teetering on the brink of unconsciousness, and struggling fruitlessly to regain his composure. Hwa, on the other hand, displays remarkable composure, seemingly unfazed by the barrage of punches aimed at him. However, the moment the focus shifts to even the slightest concern for someone else, an overwhelming surge of rage consumes Hwa, overpowering his entire being.

"Let's get out of here," Hwa whispers urgently, his voice barely audible amidst the chaos. His grip tightens around your hand as he swiftly navigates through the frantic crowd, leading you towards the school's exit with a determined stride. Together, you sprint relentlessly, propelled by adrenaline and the instinct to seek refuge.

The clamour gradually fades away as you finally reach the entrance of the familiar warehouse you've frequented all too often lately. Your chests heave with exertion, breaths coming in ragged gasps, as you find relief in leaning against the sturdy door. The coolness of its surface against your clammy skin provides a momentary respite, offering a soothing contrast to the intensity of your pounding heart. Caught between physical exhaustion and a whirlwind of emotions, you struggle to discern the source of your frenetic heartbeat. Is it the aftermath of the sprint, the adrenaline coursing through your veins, or the lingering fear and anxiety from the harrowing fight you just narrowly escaped? The answer eludes you, blending seamlessly into the complex tapestry of sensations enveloping your trembling body.

“Are you okay?” Hwa questions, turning towards you, extremely concerned about you, wishing you had never got involved. Yet, he is tremendously thankful for you in this moment, for saving him from the horrific situation.

Concern etches itself into your voice as you exclaim, "Are you alright, Hwa?" Your hand instinctively reaches up, cradling his face in your grasp, delicately tracing the contours of his wounded lip and cheek. The injury, crimson and inflamed, accentuates the intensity of the moment. Time momentarily halts for Hwa as your tender touch lands upon his cheek. A rush of warmth floods his face, his cheeks flushing with a mixture of embarrassment and exhilaration. His heart skips a beat, entangled in a chaotic symphony of emotions, as the focused attention from you amplifies the intensity of his feelings.

“What were you thinking, throwing yourself in there?” Hwa exclaims, getting slightly angry at you for involving yourself in something so dangerous, and getting hurt in the meantime. However, the second he sees you flinch at his tone, he relaxes a little, taking your hand in his, trying to calm the storm in his head. Gently, he pulls you towards him, resting his forehead against yours as he caresses the back of your hand, the action causing your entire body to flare up in intense heat.

“It was dangerous, ___.” Hwa sighs, disappointed in you, yet also relieved for your defensive actions.

“You’re my friend, Hwa. I would do it again just to keep you safe.” You admit, eyebrows furrowed, worrying deeply still about the cuts adorning the man’s face in front of you.

Before you can utter another word, the comforting strength of Hwa's arms envelops your waist, securing you in a protective embrace. His voice, laced with vulnerability, reaches your ears as he confesses, "I was terrified they would hurt you, angel."

The endearing nickname, coupled with the sudden intimacy of his hug, weakens your knees, and sends a surge of electricity through your veins. Your heart, already racing, defies logic by quickening its pace even further.

Reluctantly, Hwa withdraws from the embrace, his gaze locked onto yours. In the depths of his eyes, a plea resonates as he implores, "Please promise me you won't put yourself in danger like that again. I can't control myself when it involves you." Once more, Hwa pulls your body closer to his, melding you together in a warm and tender embrace that emanates comfort and security.

“Let’s get you home.”

The journey to your house unfolds in a serene tranquillity, accompanied by the gentle rhythm of footsteps. Hwa, against your repeated protests, politely takes charge of your backpack, cradling it as if it were a precious burden. You can't help but steal glances at his side profile, where the remnants of the recent altercation have left their mark. Anger courses through your veins, directed at Dae for daring to tarnish Hwa's ethereal innocence with intentional harm.

As you near your street, you inform Hwa that you can manage from here, urging him to attend to his own injuries. Reluctantly, he relinquishes the bag, his eyes brimming with concern and adoration. A radiant smile illuminates his face as he salutes you playfully, a display of unwavering loyalty and obedience. He assures you with firm determination that he will follow your instructions, his promise hanging in the air like a tender pledge. With a mixture of longing and regret, he begins to retreat, heading back towards the familiar warehouse where his trusted friends await. Your gaze remains fixed on his diminishing figure, his silhouette merging with the shadows as he disappears around a distant corner. A sense of joy lingers within you, replaying the cherished moments etched in your mind—from the embrace that enveloped you in warmth to the tender words that danced upon his lips. It leaves you feeling both exhilarated and flustered, the blush of anticipation gracing your neck and cheeks.

Approaching your house, the remnants of your elation dissipate, usurped by a sudden shift in atmosphere. The front door, usually a barrier between the outside world and your home, reveals itself to be slightly ajar. A sense of unease settles deep within you, coiling around your heart. Despite the flicker of apprehension, you summon courage, attributing the cracked entrance to your mother's recent onset forgetfulness. The familiarity of the surroundings tries to lull your concerns, offering a fragile shield against the encroaching shadows. With cautious steps, you enter the threshold, the weight of uncertainty bearing down upon your shoulders, overshadowing the comfort of the familiar walls.

Traversing the long hallway, flashes of bittersweet memories dart through your consciousness, stirring a whirlwind of emotions that have always remained disturbing. These fragments of the past merge with the present, clouding your thoughts and leaving you in a state of introspection. With a determined stride, you make your way towards the living room, driven by the anticipation of reuniting with your mother, who likely seeks solace within those walls.

Her absence from the world, outside her locked bedroom has persisted for weeks, a sorrow-laden isolation that followed the tragic loss of your younger brother a few months ago. The weight of grief has clung to her spirit, rending her heart and soul, leaving her shattered and desolate. It's with a mix of excitement and trepidation that you approach the living room, knowing that beyond its threshold, you might find your mother, either silently engrossed in the flickering glow of the television or consumed by tears as she clings to a photograph of your departed sibling.

A sense of hope swells within you, lifted by the faint sound of her cherished soap opera resonating through the closed door. It reverberates louder than usual, yet its amplified volume fails to stir any concern within you. Instead, a profound contentment washes over you, your heart brimming with the simple joy of being able to witness your mother's face once more. With a smile adorning your features and an unmistakable sense of anticipation fuelling your every movement, your hand reaches for the cool touch of the metal doorknob. You turn it, unlocking the gateway to a reunion that holds the promise of comfort and the potential for healing.

“Mom, I missed you…” You voice trails off as you take in the scene in front of you, falling to your knees, your life feeling like it’s being ripped out of your body, a shriek ripples from your throat as you crawl towards the body of you mother, hot tears starting to stream out of your eyes like a waterfall.

“Mom, this isn’t funny, wake up. Please, I need you.”

---

On the day of your mother’s funeral, you barely make it out of bed, let alone to the shower where you spend almost an hour in, just sitting on the cold tiles, your knees brought to your chest as you let the scorching hot water cascade down your body, not even paying attention to the way it tingles and pains your soft skin.

Looking into the mirror in front of you, you see how pale and lean you have gotten, your cheekbones starting to become prominent on your features, your eyebags incredibly noticeable due to the extreme lack of sleep. Nothing some concealer cannot fix.

The ceremony is long and tedious, your heart heavy with grief and your spirit fractured by loss. It's your mother's funeral, a day that should have been filled with support and unity, yet you find yourself standing alone, abandoned by the one person who should have been there. The one person who should have shared this painful moment with you, gone. Anger wells up inside, a flood of emotions threatening to spill over. How could your own father not bother to show up? The absence feels like a betrayal, a harsh reminder of the fractured relationships that have haunted your life the past few months. With each passing minute, your anger intensifies, fuelled by the profound disappointment that you carry in your heart. Yet, amidst the rage, a quiet determination takes hold, a vow to honour your mother's memory. Even if it means doing it without your father.

Standing there, your eyes transfixed on the sight of your mother's coffin being slowly lowered into the earth, a numbness envelops you, seeping into the depths of your being. The world around you begins to blur, as if a fog has descended, obscuring everything except the weight of loss that hangs heavily upon your shoulders. It feels as though the ground beneath your feet has vanished, leaving you suspended in a void of sorrow. Every ounce of energy seems to have been drained from your body, leaving you devoid of purpose.

The thought of attending school, completing exams, once a mundane routine, now feels impossible. The weight of grief renders you incapable of leaving your bed, the covers becoming a reserve for your shattered spirit. The outside world seems too vibrant, too demanding, as you struggle to find the strength to face each day.

The days blur together, spent in the quiet solitude of your room, where tears mingle with memories, and sorrow becomes the only companion that seems to understand your pain. You feel your entire body, soul, spirit breaking into thousands of pieces as reality truly dawns on you. You are alone. No matter how hard you try, she cannot escape the haunting image etched into your mind, the lifeless body of your mother, forever frozen in time. It lingers in the depths of your thoughts, an unwelcome presence that refuses to leave.

Every blink of your eyes replays the scene, as if you are trapped in an endless loop of agony. The image haunts her waking hours and infiltrates her dreams. Each time you close your eyes, the vivid details resurface, the stillness of your mother's form, the paleness of her skin, the emptiness in her eyes. The weight of this image, like an anchor to your soul, threatens to drown you in a sea of despair.

You have not seen your eight friends since the fateful day of the fight in school. In the midst of uncertainty, you find yourself hovering on the edge of anxiety, not knowing if your new friends are thoroughly searching for you. Your mind becomes a whirlwind of questions and doubts, each thought spinning faster than the next. Are they frantically combing the city streets, calling out your name in desperation? Or have they been caught up in their own lives, oblivious to your absence? You yearn for a sign, a glimmer of reassurance that they are actively searching for you, that they haven't forgotten you amidst the chaos of their daily lives, the rumours starting to claw at their backs. The nagging uncertainty tugs at your heart, and you begin to wonder if you truly hold a place in their thoughts, or if you are slowly fading into the backdrop of their existence, just how it always seems to happen.

After hearing nothing from you for almost two weeks, it’s then when they conclude that you must have heard the horrendous rumours and for some reason, believed them. It broke them harder than it did when the rumours first came out. You are leaving them, even though you promised to stay by their side, crushing their entire souls. Not being able to come up with any other solution, they decide it must be because of the deadly rumours. The conversation Yunho had with you the night it all started, rings like an anthem in the tall boy’s head, “We will get this sorted, Yuyu.” As Yunho stands in the empty warehouse, his heart shatters into countless pieces, and he struggles to comprehend the sudden disappearance of the person who had captured his soul. The pain bites at him, seeping through every fibre of his skin.

In the wake of your absence, his once soft heart transforms into a frigid block of ice, encased in an impenetrable wall. The warmth and tenderness that once explained him now give way to walls that rise, brick by brick, shielding him from the pain of vulnerability. He retreats into himself, wary of letting anyone come close enough to inflict further wounds upon his already battered spirit. The echoes of your absence reverberate within, as he navigates through the world with a guarded heart, vowing never to allow himself to be hurt in such a profound way again. You are not who you said you were.

----

In the hushed darkness of the night, the city streets unfold before you as an uncharted path. Grief etches deep lines of sorrow on your face, your footsteps heavy with the weight of loss. Fresh from your mother's funeral, the ache in your heart resonates with every breath you take. You walk aimlessly, your tear-filled eyes fixed on the cold pavement, a sudden movement catches your attention. A young child, full of innocence and joy, frolics, and giggles in carefree abandon. But life's capricious nature intervenes, the child stumbles, tumbling to the ground with a startled cry. From the shadows emerges his mother, her arms outstretched in swift reflex. She cradles the fallen child, comforting him with gentle whispers and soothing caresses. The tenderness of the moment pierces your already fragile heart, intensifying your grief as you realise you no longer have anyone to rely on when you fall. A wave of anguish crashes over you, overwhelming you in a storm of sorrow. The stark contrast between the warmth of a mother's love and the void that now engulfs your existence feels unbearable. It magnifies your loss, leaving you feeling adrift in a world that once held such a vibrant life.

Darkness cloaks your spirit as you continue your solitary journey through the city. Each step deepens the ache within, a constant reminder of the irreparable void that has fractured your world. Within the twinkling city lights, tears blend with the shadows. Carrying the weight of your mourning soul, longing for comfort in the midst of the deep emptiness that envelops you. The city becomes a silent witness to your pain, as you navigate the night, seeking relief in a world that seems barren of such comfort.

Finding yourself walking up the endless flights of stairs, there is determination in your steps. Of course, the elevators are out of service, you grumble under your breath, but not finding it in yourself to get angry. It’s when you reach the top floor that your true intentions dawn on you, and for some reason, you aren’t even upset at your decision. Opening the door, you are met with the cold winter air of the outside, tickling and numbing your nose. Snuggling deeper into your coat, you slowly trudge your way onto the large rooftop, the view showing the entirety of the city. If you weren’t so emotionless, perhaps you would find the view beautiful.

You know your intentions. You intend to carry out the raging thoughts in your head. However, you let your mind be silent at this moment. Allowing your mind to truly see the view. At least your last view is a beautiful one. The lights of the city and surrounding buildings illuminates the rooftop in many colours, almost making rainbows around you. Strolling closer to the ledge, you rest your hands on the railing, it being icy to the touch, letting it cool down your burning hands.

This is it. This is all it took. Finally, the endless torment from the universe got to you. You thought you were stronger than this, truly, yet you must have overestimated yourself.

Just as you lift your leg to climb past the railing, you hear a sob sound from your left. Whipping your head to the left, your gaze locks onto a man standing perilously close to the ledge, a mere twenty metres away. Panic courses through your veins, electrifying your senses as you witness the man lift his leg, poised to climb over the railing. Instinct takes hold, overriding rational thought, propelling you into action.

With an adrenaline-fueled burst of speed, you sprint towards him, your footsteps resounding with urgency. Each stride is propelled by a desperate determination to reach him in time. As you draw closer, your hand reaches out, gripping his arm with a fierce strength, forcefully pulling him away from the ledge. The intensity of the moment disrupts your balance, and you both tumble to the ground with a resounding thud. As you gather your bearings, you cast a worried glance at the man beside you, relieved to see him on his knees, away from the precipice. A heavy sigh escapes your lips, momentarily easing the grip of fear that had held your heart captive. However, as your gaze settles upon his face, a chill of dread sweeps over you, causing fresh tears to spill from your eyes. In that heart-wrenching moment, a torrent of emotions crashes over you as you recognise the boy in front of you.

“Hwa? What the hell are you doing up here?”

Hwa's emotions ripple across his face, a spectrum of fury, realisation, and hurt unfolds before you, each expression chipping away at the innocence that once defined him. Your heart shatters, the pieces scattering like fragile glass, as you witness the profound transformation that has gripped him. The radiant glow that drew you so close to him has disappeared, leaving only fragments of its former shine. His features, usually animated and vibrant, now resemble a mask of emptiness. His gaze, locked on you, conveys disbelief and disbelief, struggling to comprehend that you stand before him, having just witnessed his desperate attempt to end his own life. Tears stain his face, tracing trails on his reddened cheeks, while his eyes remain bloodshot and swollen from the storm of emotions within him. It is a devastating sight, one that pierces your very core.

In that moment, the strength that once buoyed you crumbles, reducing you to a sobbing mess. The weight of the situation bears down upon you, threatening to drown you in a sea of sorrow. Your heart aches with a fierce empathy, as you see the depths of Hwa's pain laid bare before you.

Recognizing the anguish in his eyes, you wrap your arms around him, pulling him into a tight embrace. The tremors coursing through his body reverberates through your own, a testament to the intensity of his suffering.

“Leave me alone,”

“I’m not leaving you, never.”

“You already have ___.” Hwa cries out, his heart searing even more from the pain of having you next to him, seeing him so vulnerable.

“I never left you, I am here Hwa. Please tell me what is going on.”

“It was my dad. He paid Ryu to tell everyone that we hurt her. Because of me, my friends are going through hell, this is all my fault.” Hwa’s voice is muffled by the skin of your neck, his tone choppy and fast, stuttering on his words, the air not able to reach his lungs. Trembling, Hwa attempts to speak once again, his voice quivering with raw emotion as he strives to articulate the depths of his devastation. However, the weight of his suffering proves overwhelming, constricting his throat and stifling his words. He gasps for air, a desperate, guttural wail escaping from deep within him. You find no room for anger, for your attention is wholly devoted to your friend, cradling his fragile form within your embrace.

“Why would he do that, Hwa?” You pry him for answers, anything so you are able to comfort him, to know what has his entire soul breaking down.

“Because I chose my mom over him. I hate the way he treated my mother and he can't bear that his only son, the heir to his dumb company, refused to take his position. All because of me, he is ruining our lives.”

The mere thought that Hwa's own father could inflict such cruelty and depravity upon his own child sears through your consciousness. It awakens a violent stream of rage, yet you suppress it, knowing that your immediate priority lies in comforting and supporting Hwa in this extremely vulnerable moment. With unwavering determination, you hold him close, his body seemingly devoid of strength as you envelop him in the warmth of your presence.

“Shh,” you stroke the back of the man’s head, trying all you can to calm him down, knowing all too well how extreme and messy his emotions are right now, the smallest things being able to set him off into another fit of sobs.

“I’m sorry, ___, I should have never involved you with us.” The grip Hwa has on your clothes is strong, as if he is trying to ground himself.

“Hwa, it’s okay. You have given me a family; you have made me the happiest I have felt in a while.”

“Please don’t leave me. I thought, we thought you had left us.”

“I’m sorry, Hwa. I won’t leave you ever again, I promise.” Your embrace around the man tightens as you bring him closer to your own body, needing the comfort just as much as he does. Gently pulling away, you look Hwa in the eyes once again, “please don’t leave me, you cannot die Hwa. You have so many people here who care so much about you. You have so much to live for.”

Reluctantly, Hwa nods his head, tears still falling down his swollen, red cheeks. Again, you pull him towards you, this time he is able to fully reciprocate the hug, his arms wrapping strongly around your waist, resting his head onto your shoulder, silent cries falling from his drained lips. For what feels like hours, you allow Hwa to weep into you, allowing him to let all his emotions out, the bitter winter air freezing the two of you, yet your body feels like it is on fire. The thoughts of your own demise, slowly seeping from your mind, your focus only able to be on the person held in your tender embrace. As you speak, you notice the subtle change in Hwa's demeanour. The tension in his shoulders easing, and his breathing becoming less laboured. You can see a flicker of light, a glimmer of hope, begin to illuminate his tear-stained face.

Time seems to stand still as the two of you remain locked in the intimate bubble, shielded from the outside world. In that sacred space, you vow to be his anchor, his sanctuary amidst the chaos. Gently wiping away his tears, you brush away the remnants of sorrow that cling to Hwa’s cheeks. With every touch, every caress, you intend to fill his brokenness with warmth and tenderness. Slowly but surely, Hwa begins to respond to your affection. His grip on despair loosens, and a twinkle of gratitude dances in his eyes. Sitting together, enveloped in a cocoon of shared vulnerability, your hearts beating in sync, amidst the shattered fragments of Hwa's anguish, you feel your bond growing stronger than ever before.

The situation feels almost surreal, like a poignant twist of fate. Here you are, providing comfort and solace to someone who was on the brink of ending their own life, even though you yourself had come to the rooftop with the same haunting intention. The irony isn't lost on you, and in this juxtaposition of emotions, you find a glimmer of understanding.

You offer your words and support, a profound realisation washes over you, a sense that perhaps the universe has a hand in this moment. It's as if it's gently nudging you, reminding you of the value of your own existence. With this realisation comes a newfound determination to embrace life, regardless of the hardships it may present.

You make a promise to yourself right then and there, a vow to keep living, to persevere through even the darkest of times. The weight of your decisions becomes palpable, and you internalise the significance of taking control over your own life. This is your journey, your path to navigate, and you're resolved to make choices that reflect your will to live.

Amidst the gravity of the situation, the exchange of comfort and support takes on a profound meaning. The connection you share with the person you're comforting underscores the intricate web of human experiences, reminding you of the complex nature of life's struggles and triumphs. As you extend a lifeline to someone else, you inadvertently extend it to yourself as well, reaffirming the powerful impact of compassion and empathy in the face of life's challenges.

---

The next day, you went to the warehouse, knowing the group would be there around this time. Desperately needing to clarify to the eight why it is you suddenly disappeared. They deserve an explanation, you know it wasn’t right of you to suddenly vanish, but you have a feeling they would understand if you gave them the true reason for your childish behaviour. Chuckling slightly, you know the captain of the group would scold you for calling your actions immature, knowing he will tell you that people can deal with anguish in many bizarre, different ways.

With a mix of curiosity and hope, you gingerly push against the creaky, metal door, revealing a dimly lit interior that holds countless secrets. A flickering ray of sunlight pierces through the cracks in the worn-out roof, rays of light to beam onto the dusty concrete floor. The air carries a faint scent of aged wood and memories.

Your eyes adjust to the gloom, you expect to find the familiar sight of your companions gathered in their usual meeting spot. But as you step deeper into the vast space, your eager smile begins to fade. The echoes of your own footsteps being the only sounds that reach your ears, creating an eerie backdrop to your growing unease. The once vibrant walls, now marked by time and neglect, stood as silent witnesses to the absence that fills the room.

Darting your gaze around, searching for any trace of your friends. The chairs and couch where you had shared heartfelt conversations and wild laughter stood empty, their positions untouched since the last encounter. The remnants of forgotten games and unfinished projects lay scattered across the floor, a bittersweet reminder of your bond. Yet, your friends are nowhere to be found.

Panic mingles with confusion as you comb through the deserted warehouse, your heart sinking with each unanswered question. Did they leave in a hurry? Was there something you had missed? Your mind races, questions bounding around your head, desperately trying to work out the mystery that lies before you. Examining every corner, every shadow, desperately hoping to catch even a glimpse of your friends, to hear their familiar voices or see a glimmer of their presence.

However, the emptiness persists, only amplifying your loneliness. It feels as though time has frozen within these walls, leaving you suspended in a world that has suddenly grown cold and desolate. The warehouse, once a beacon of friendship and shared adventures, now serves as a persistent reminder of her friends' mysterious disappearance.

Just like that, they disappeared without a trace. You searched everywhere you could for them, the skatepark you heard Woo talk about, the record store their captain had bragged about almost every day, the specific part of the park with white flowers that Yeo liked to bring you to, the ice cream shop which they all went to almost every single day. There was not a single trace of them. The only memory being the beaten-up brown couch in the abandoned warehouse, which now appears to be officially abandoned.

---

After a long and tiring day at school, you wearily walk through the bustling streets, your mind preoccupied with the usual worries and trivial concerns.

Since the boys mysteriously disappeared from your life, the torment you endured at school escalated to vast heights. The once-familiar hallways transformed into a battleground of constant jeering and merciless bullying. Day after day, the piercing insults and hurtful taunts relentlessly rained down upon you, leaving wounds that ran deeper than you ever imagined possible. Each cutting remark, every malicious laugh, further numbed your spirit, suffocating any remaining ember of joy within you. The weight of the cruelty you faced settled upon your shoulders like an unbearable burden, crushing your spirit and leaving you questioning your worth. As the days turned into weeks, the pain only grew, carving a ravine within your heart that seemed impossible to bridge. The constant onslaught of humiliation chipped away at your resilience, leaving you more vulnerable and isolated than ever before. The vibrant colours of life dulled as you retreated into a shell of self-preservation, shielded from the outside world by a thick armour of numbness.

In the midst of this relentless storm, you found yourself sinking deeper into the depths of despair, your emotions gradually numbed by the unending cruelty. The once-bright spark of hope that had illuminated your days dimmed, overshadowed by the darkness of your daily torment. Yet you remember the promise you made yourself.

Lost in your thoughts, you are suddenly jolted from your trance as a stranger appears before you, an unexpected intrusion into your world. Instantly, a primal instinct surge within you, gripping your heart with fear. Taking an instinctual step back, your eyes narrow warily, as your body tenses in self-defence.

But as your gaze scrutinises the stranger, a peculiar realisation washes over you. There is an undeniable gentleness emanating from him, a warmth that belies his unfamiliar presence. His eyes, though unfamiliar, carry a glimmer of understanding, as if he holds some secret knowledge. Cautiously intrigued, you find yourself leaning in, allowing curiosity to momentarily overshadow your initial apprehension.

“It’s ___, right?” The stranger's voice, when it finally reaches your ears, bears an uncanny familiarity and you find yourself wondering as to how he knows your name.

“My name is Bumjoong, I know your friends…”He speaks of your eight friends, their tender nicknames rolling off his tongue with an intimate familiarity that sends shivers cascading down your spine. A chill dances along your skin as the realisation dawns upon you – this stranger knows them, knows the depth of your connection, and knows your place within their intertwined lives.

With a mixture of trepidation and longing, you listen intently as the stranger, now revealing himself as a relative of ‘Captain’, begins to unfold a heart-wrenching truth.

“I am not quite sure how to break this to you, but they have passed away.” He delicately confesses that your friends have passed away, their spirits departing from this earthly realm.

A surge of desperation engulfs you, as you plead with the stranger, your voice laced with a mixture of hope and despair, yearning for answers that might provide solace or healing.

“What? What do you mean? What happened?” your voice is desperate as you plead for one answer, anything.

However, the stranger, though understanding the turmoil within you, stands resolute in his silence. Your pleas fall upon closed lips, his reasons for withholding the details shrouded in mystery.

“I’m sorry ___, truly. You’re going to be okay.” Is all he says before slowly fading from your presence, leaving you alone with the weight of his revelation, a tempest of emotions rages within you.

“It's not true.” You say to yourself, over and over, tears falling freely from your face.

For months on end, you wage a war against the harrowing news you received. Denial becomes your refuge, a desperate attempt to cling to the belief that your friends are still alive, that their laughter and shared moments have not been extinguished. It becomes a battle fought within the depths of your own mind, as you fiercely defend the hope that they will one day return, that this cruel reality can somehow be undone.

Yet, as the relentless passage of time weaves its threads, your resistance begins to fray. The fortress of denial that you have so painstakingly built crumbles, unable to withstand the unyielding weight of truth. Slowly, hesitantly, you open yourself up to the possibility that your beloved friends have truly departed from this world. The bittersweet tendrils of acceptance seep into your consciousness, searing your heart with an indescribable ache, as you embark on a gruelling journey through the depths of grief. With each passing day, you learn to navigate the relentless waves of sorrow, gradually embracing the harsh reality that your cherished friends are no longer with you, their presence forever etched in your memories and the ache of their absence ever present in your soul.

They are gone.

⇢ taglist: @lilactangerine @plutoneu @abby-grace @sunkissed725 @lixiel0ver @acciocriativity @hyukssunflower @sunukissed @khjcoo @stopeatread @meginthebuilding27 @mychickentendou @sunnyhokyu @rxnexxi @croa-yevon @arabelleum @randomness7198 @dysftopia @lucymultistan @sookacc @starillusion13 @daceydeath @theamazinggrace-000 @smilingtokki @hasgalore @pytssamworld @just-a-really-bored-kpop-fan @satsuri3su

@theonesoldtoonedirection @wooya1224 @deadpoetsandhoney @skztrophy @kunhengie @tinyelfperson @l0vetiny @simplyalfie @doggopepper @seungily @dino-teezerr @silentcry329 @formulateez @senpai-of-doom @aaaaajonghooooo @ijwsbdinp @liniiiaa @channiespup @heyitstacy @eightmakesonebraincell @araknoid @itsmeregan @rynmlk @kazuhateez @galaxypox @chermonroe @babyhailey819 @euphoricdeni @wooya1224 @matzbear @h-nji @tunaasan @send-me-places @llynx7 @solstramaii @mlink64 @purple-bell @punkhazardlaw

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sturniolopepsi · 8 months

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‘tis the season…for seasonal depression (C.S)

cw: talks seasonal depression/anxiety/ED (LIGHTLY) (read at own risk please!) use of y/n ¿ANGST i think¿

req: no i was listening to “Can’t catch me now” by Olivia Rodrigo and we got here. enjoy!

A/N: please don’t read if your triggered by the topic! your mental health is more important and this fic will always be here to come back to when you’re in a better headspace love! MY DM’S ARE ALWAYS OPEN!

~what i write is completely fictional, these are just ideas in my head. i understand the people i write about do not and may not act like this in these situations ITS FICTIONAL BABES!~

NOT PROOF READ. AND JUST A JUMBLE OF THOUGHTS

***

y/n’s phone buzzes on the night stand, she debates answering it but taking the covers off her head to face the world around her seems to be to big of a daunting task at the moment. it buzzes again but she chooses to ignore it, snuggling deeper in her safe place under the covers.

she hasn’t actually spoken to anyone in about two days… but this depression episode started about a week ago, y/n slowly started to drift away. her boyfriend and his brothers busy with meetings and their lives hardly noticing her absence.

***

the triplets getting home from their meeting, chris tries calling and texting y/n. with no successful attempts he goes downstairs into the kitchen where his brothers are sitting planning the next wednesday baking video.

“has anyone heard from y/n?” chris asks his brothers both of them having a confused look on their faces. “no actually not for a few days.” matt responds, “not since the day we brought her mcdonalds. which was monday i think” it was now Thursday. “last time i heard from her was tuesday she put a short response in the girls group chat but that was itttt.” nick adds now matching chris’ horrified expression.

chris knew of her seasonal depression but it only being november he didn’t expect it to hit this early and this fast. “yeah, i didn’t get to message her yesterday i passed out before i could” he starts walking out of the kitchen. the boys could hear his voice breaking knowing he’s blaming this all on himself. before chris knows it he has his beanie on and shoes on.

“chris, where are you going?” nick asks standing in the hallway looking out towards the door. matt starts to grab his keys knowing his brother is about to ask for a ride to y/n’s house.

“too her”

chris opens the door disappearing out into the cold winter boston night.

***

hearing the front door open and closing downstairs startles the poor girl awake. before the panic attack can start she hears his voice. “y/n where are you?” she would answer him. but she doesn’t want him to see her like this. so if she pretends she’s not here maybe he will think she’s at her parents house. though, knowing him he’d try there too if he didn’t find her here. causing her parents to then worry about her whereabouts and well being as well as chris. she hears his footsteps coming up the stairs.

“in here chris… i’m okay just not feeling good i wouldn’t come in” her voice cracking after not being used in a while. she hears his pace picking up over the stairs and a little knock on the bedroom door before he slowly opening it to the dark room. seeing her poke her head out of the covers tears instantly threatening to fall at the sight of him “i’m sorry” her voice breaks. “oh baby” is all he can whisper walking over to the edge of her bed.

that’s when the tears start, she can’t control them and she doesn’t even know why she’s crying every doubt every fear RUNNING to her head at once. he climbs in bed with her instantly pulling her into his arms. whispering, “i’m sorry baby… it’s okay… shhh… i’m here… i’m here pretty girl… you’re not alone anymore…” softly kissing her on the top of the head. her face shoved into his chest and her body rattling with each sob, which only makes him hold her a little closer and keep whispering sweet things to her.

after some time she calms, chris still holding her as close as before. “i’m sorry… i’m so sorry chris” she states again her voice stuffy from the crying. “don’t apologize, pretty girl. don’t ever apologize for this.” she looks towards him, her face red from the crying, her eyes soft and tired, hair a mess from being in her bed. that’s when he hears her stomach growl. “baby when was the last time you had something to eat?” he asks looking at her, her face going from this soft sad to a confused state. the fact she’s trying to remember when her last meal was let’s chris know it’s been to long. “umm mcdonald’s, with you” she responds. his face drops… “y/n… that was monday night kid, it’s thursday.” her face looks confused clearly not realizing what day it was. “oh my sweet girl… am i able to go and get you a bath ready or a shower depending on what one you feel comfortable with. if you want i’ll call matt once you’re done he can come get us we can get something to eat, stop and get some snacks, and you come back to our house? i want you to be close to me so i can make sure you’re okay” he understands that he can’t just 1. force her to leave her bed if she’s not ready yet hence why he asked if she was comfortable with that. and 2. he knows he can’t just tell her everything will be okay and she will be perfect and happy again. he knows depression works on its own time but, at least if she’s with him he will be able to keep an eye on her.

she slowly nods processing the information and making her decision. she also really doesn’t want to be alone so, it seems like a good idea. “yeah. that sounds okay… just will you sit in the bathroom with me please?” laying her head back down on his chest seeming silly asking him if that request. “of course. anything you need sweetheart. you just tell me when you’re ready to get up okay?” giving her a light squeeze kissing the top of her head once more.

“we will get through this y/n… no matter when, no matter where… i love you.”

“i know… i love you too chris”

A/N: IM SOBBING IM SO SORRY

#chris sturniolo #chris sturniolo x reader #christopher sturniolo #sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #christopher owen sturniolo #chris sturniolo headcanons #chris sturniolo fluff #chris sturniolo fanfic #chris sturniolo imagine #chris sturniolo x you #matt sturniolo headcanons #matt sturniolo x you #matt sturniolo fluff #matt sturniolo imagine #matt sturniolo x reader #matthew sturniolo #matt sturniolo

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invpulse · 7 months

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I haven't seen a lot of discussion about RSD when it comes to ADHD discussions, so I thought I would do the honors since it's been affecting me for many years and I'd like people to know more about it!

I have had a diagnosis for ADHD but was never told- instead learning I had autism through therapy but still having some behaviors that I could never explain that just Happened.

I learned I had ADHD over the summer, and with that, severe rejection sensitive dysphoria.

before reading, please keep in mind that this is mostly talking from personal experience and some skimmed research! not experiencing RSD doesn't mean you do/don't have ADHD, and it may not appear like how it appeared for me. I don't only have autism + adhd either, so those may also contribute to any differences! ^^

RSD is the immense emotional pain after being criticized, rejected, or even teased (ignore my misspell in the panel). This rejection can be real or perceived, and we react like this because it hurts.

The pain can manifest as aggression, bringing on symptoms of depression (thoughts of s/h, isolation, demotivation, etc) and anxiety/panic attacks.

it can cause physical aliments like the above. For me, it causes my heartrate to skyrocket, heart palpitations, the feeling of being in a crisis, and extreme shaking to occur along with stomach pain.

(In fact, right now I'm going through it because making a post talking about this, despite having & dealing with it, makes me scared of other's opinions on it.)

RSD can also take the form of avoiding situations, people, or conversations where rejection or criticism is very possible.

Like other types of dysphoria, it is out of our control and hard to manage. It can last from days to weeks to months, all depending on both the trigger* and the individual.

I had a RSD episode that was on-and-off for a little over a year or two; getting more tame and bearable as it slowly drifted and stopped haunting my mind with the incident.

Compared to the other times my RSD was set off, this moment was a rather big moment in my life and ended up permanently changing me moving forward - which can be the reason why it lasted so long.

Despite how unbearable it can get, there are some ways to cope with it & lessen the effect it has.

Communicate - If you need time to process something that's told to you, you should say so (as difficult as it is). Tell the person(s) involved about your RSD, how you need time to digest information like this and take some time to relax. Trying to respond to the information while going through the head of the dysphoria will be very rough and might not be what you truly want to say.

Distract - This is really useful for me personally! Do something that grabs your attention or occupies your mind. One of RSD's main symptoms is rumination, thinking of something over and over again. I usually listen to music, draw, or play a game that won't frustrate me - like minecraft! (i'd say rain world but some of you would call me a maniac /lhj)

Perspective - This may require some communication, but it can really help and connect with others. See what the involved people thought / perceived, explain, talk. This doesn't always have the chance to end in rainbows and rekindling but at least you understand. Sometimes simply hearing the person explain their own side is enough to ease my RSD, being able to have someone explain themselves to me so i can understand them better.

I also wanna point out the "don't take it personally" thing that people try to use to deal with it isn't something i agree with since we're going to take it personally at first regardless. Later on, not really, but you're trying to cope with the symptoms... telling someone (or yourself) that they're too sensitive & over-reacting is the worse thing you could do.

With time, you can even begin to build up your 'armor' and be able to sustain yourself in situations you might get hurt in. Of course, some things may be able to sneak past and hurt you more than you expect, but at the end of the day, you're trying your best to go about it the best you can while taking so many blows. you're doing great.

OK i dont have a lot more to add so if anyone else would like to talk about their experiences, please feel free! Character showcased here was my beloved fursona Shiki! i'm just a little neurodivergent + black artist from new york :]

hope you enjoyed it! sorry for the long post </3

#long post #rsd #adhd rsd #rejection sensitive dysphoria #neurodiversity #digital art #digital illustration #sfw furry #furry art #digital drawing #furry character #furry oc #furry artist #procreate #furry

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musingsofalovelymillenial · 4 months

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Non and Kru Keng!

Dead Friend Forever Ep 7 - extended opinion ( long-ish post)

Trigger Warnings : Sexual abuse, sexual coercion, grooming, etc.

Since episode 7 aired I have been appalled at the number of posts I have seen regarding Non and Keng and Non’s behavior. Before I dive into ( and yes this is me letting out my anger regarding things I have seen) I want to provide some background that is also a basis for my personal opinion. I also want to state that while I truly believe everyone is titled to their own opinion there are certain things that are wrong and should not be romanticized/glossed over.

My professional background is in psychology, social work and human service ( dealing with abuse and domestic violence)

My personal background also makes what is happening to Non even harder to watch. Episodes 5, 6 and 7 took me a while to get through and resulted honestly in needing to detach for a while. I grew up attending middle school and high school in an area where most of the students attending my schools were wealthy. During that time I and my friends experienced severe bullying for being poor and for not living the way everyone else did. For context we lived 20 minutes away from our school where almost everyone lived surrounding the school and we lived in a trailer park and even though our bus was overcrowded all the trailer park children rode one bus. We as a group were constantly in trouble even when we did nothing wrong, our vice principal called us trailer trash to our faces on our bus and the kids at school were cruel and treated us like we were disgusting and not good enough. When we were “lucky” enough to be invited to their houses we were watched more than the other kids and we were not treated the same way by the parents compared to their fellow friends from the same income level. We were taught by everyone around us that we should be and were inferior ( we were not!). During this time there was also one of my bullies who everyday would not only verbally harass me but sexually harass me at my locker and the worst part at the time was that there were either the kids that ignored that it was happening or the kids who laughed. I can't speak for my few friends at the time but what made all this worse was because school was not the only place I had problems. At home my father was an alcoholic and on any given day my house was a cocktail mixture of verbal abuse, emotional abuse, and domestic violence. After a while I not only started feeling sick a lot but I eventually stopped going to school and would stay home “sick” to avoid school ( both my parents worked so I would be alone during the day). Around this time was really when I developed anxiety, depression and for the first time battled with suicidal thoughts. This went on for a long time. When things finally had their culminating point of me finally opening up at least about what was happening at school. My mom was the first person to ask me and later as an adult in therapy my therapist also asked why did I never tell anyone what was happening to me? The answer was truly simple, complex but simple. I did not want to burden anyone. I told my mom she already dealt with so much because of my father and how he treated us that I did not want to add one more burden to her already full plate. I felt that if I could just handle it on my own it would be fine, eventually it would stop or these people who were cruel would just give up. I also felt ashamed and disgusted by what was happening. I also told my therapist (as an adult looking back on that time) that why would I tell anyone when the kids in the hallway made it clear they did not care and the adults ( teachers and office staff) who I should have been able to trust made it clear they did not like us either simply because of where we live and our income level.

Now back to Dead Friend Forever

Here are the definitions for Abuse of Power, Sexual Coercion and Grooming.

Abuse of power is when someone misuses their authority or higher position in a hierarchy to take advantage of, coerce or harm other people. And it can lead to different types of abuse, such as psychological, physical, financial and sexual abuse.

Sexual coercion is using pressure or influence to get someone to agree to sex. People can knowingly coerce others into sex, such as learning manipulative pick-up artist strategies, or unknowingly, such as assuming the other person is OK when they're not.

Grooming is a tactic where someone methodically builds a trusting relationship with a child or young adult, their family, and community to manipulate, coerce, or force the child or young adult to engage in sexual activities.

More information about grooming:

Because they were groomed, children and teens who were abused often feel that they were in some way responsible for the abuse. This is especially true for teens who feel that they went into the situation willingly and thus in some way it was their fault. This shame and guilt then prevents them from reporting, as they fear that no one will believe them. In fact, many teens who have been groomed are confused as to whether what happened to them actually constituted abuse as it didn’t follow the stereotypical pattern of a violent rape. In many cases this confusion can prevent or delay reporting for many years.

Non was groomed and then sexually assaulted regardless whether it seemed like he consented. Let me say it louder for the people in the back!

Kru Keng sexually assaulted Non! He did not ”cheat” on Phee. Did he lie to Phee yes, but he did not cheat in the stereotypically what we as a society view cheating.

the signs or steps of grooming with examples from the episode:

Make you feel like you owe them. Because you are in a relationship, because you’ve had sex before or because they give/spend money on you or because you go home with them they are owed for these behaviors.

We see Keng offer Non a ride home and he then offers him money to get out of his situation. We don’t see him doing these things with other students.

Victim Selection: abusers often observe possible victims and select them based on ease of access to them or their perceived vulnerability.

Keng clocks that Non is vulnerable the first time he is in the study class and even looks back at him after scolding Top and asking Non for his name. We see this through the several times he brings up how Non is having friend problems or how he doesn't want to work with Tee, and Non unfortunately mentions how just knowing someone cares makes him feel better which makes Keng even more aware of how alone Non seems to be.

Gaining access and isolating the victim: abusers will attempt to physically or emotionally separate a victim from those protecting them and often seek out positions in which they have contact with minors.

Keng has perfect access as a math tutor/teacher to have contact with minors. Also he always has Non come to his office or meet him alone despite the fact that his office is in a seemingly more isolated place than the classrooms.

Trust development and keeping secrets: abusers attempt to gain trust of victims through gifts, sharing secrets, etc.

Keng not only praises Non as a student but also then tells him things like I want to help you anyway I can, I noticed that you are sad, I can give you money to help you because I view you like a brother, I now know your secret regarding Tee and the money so I am someone you can trust.

Desensitization to touch : abusers will often start to touch a victim in ways that appear harmless and later escalate to increasingly more sexual contact.

Keng touches Non’s shoulder seemingly to comfort him, the next time he is holding his hand, then he is holding his hand on his knee and rubbing the back of his hand. All these on their own could be innocent and seem like comfort or being friendly. Until Keng kisses Non crossing that line and leading directly to assaulting him.

Attempt by abusers to make their behavior seem natural: to avoid raising suspicions. For teens who may be particularly close in age to the abuser it can be hard to recognize grooming tactics.

I feel for Non because we see how he is not happy and is actually crying when he hugs Phee the first time when Keng kisses him and then we see him come down to meet Phee. Also Non is trapped in a situation where he is being manipulated and being taken advantage of and sees little to no way out of this financial mess with the money laundering. We, as an audience, saw the fight with his family after where his mother says she is embarrassed because of him and says to Non’s father that if he weren’t a loser then Non wouldn’t be one too. Non very much is receiving a message whether she meant it or not because emotions were high is irrelevant. Non is receiving the message that he is a burden and an embarrassment. Non is aware of his family's financial situation as well. We see him say it to Phee several times about how he wants to solve his own problems and he does not want to burden people. I do not think Non lied to Phee because he wanted to, I think he did it because not only would it put another thing on Phee’s shoulders after he already went to his dad once for Non but also puts Non in a vulnerable position. I personally was asked many times by people oh are you okay? Are you sure everything is good because you look upset? And everytime I lied because I didn't want to be a burden but I also never wanted to look at myself as a victim or admit that I was a victim because that bit of fragile control on my life was one of the only things I could control. And as an adult I have had the chance to talk to some people I knew at the time and they all told me they knew I was lying about being okay or even though I cried and then would say I was fine, I wasn’t. But they all felt like if they pushed me to talk I would never tell them and my one friend said point blank at least I could make you forget about it for a while even if I didn’t really know what you wanted a distraction from. I 100% feel this is exactly what is Non’s perspective. He cannot control how Por, Tee, Top, Fluke and even Jin treat him. He cannot control how his parents view him. He cannot control Phee or Phee’s decisions to love or help him. He cannot control Keng. He cannot take back getting involved with Tee and the money laundering or the consequences of that. What Non can control is how he feels or what he takes control of. Non can control whether he views himself as a victim. He can also control whether he finishes the movie that he wrote the script for. The movie and script are something he did, they come from him and are something at the end of the day regardless of anyone else he Non can be proud of. I think while we may not view his staying with the group healthy and it's not, or his lying to Phee about things that are happening good cause it’s not; it makes sense to Non. Because again he is a teenager who is vulnerable and easily exploitable and has very little control and teenagers whose brains are not fully developed are making not only decisions they think are best or worst at the time but also making decisions based on what they know at that moment. Seeing people who are watching this show and who are hating on Non or do not understand what happened between Non and Keng infuriate me. Should we all feel bad for Phee? Yes. He wants to be there for Non, he loves him and wants to care , on top of knowing that Non is being bullied and seeing what Keng did has to be heartbreaking and frustrating. Also without context to their conversations Phee as a fellow teenager may not be aware or understand fully what Keng did to Non is not on Non.

You can feel bad for Phee without victim blaming Non.

Non made poor choices regarding his trust with Phee or his ability to trust Phee but none of those things mean that he deserved what happened or that because it seems like he consented that it is all just fine and he cheated on Phee and had sex with Keng.

Thank you for coming to my Ted Talk!!

#dead friend forever #dff the series #barcode tinnasit #be on cloud #copper phuriwat #dff spoilers #fuaiz thanawat #jj chalach #jjay patiphan #mio athens #bl series #ta nannakun #bump pawat #jet jetsadakorn #us nititorn #pheenon #dead friend forever the series #dff

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wandering-winchesters · 1 year

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Please don’t shut me out.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader Word Count: 2,607

Requested Anonymously: Could you write something using the prompt, “I know you always push people away, I just never thought you’d do it to me.” With a Dean x Reader pairing? I love your writing!! xx

Summary: The reader struggles with anxiety and depression, especially after a hunt doesn't go the way she hoped it would.

Trigger Warning: Mentions of anxiety, depression and coping mechanisms.

Note: Everyone handles anxiety & depression in different ways, I by no means think that there is a cure all. The things that I mentioned are simply things that bring me comfort. If you are struggling, please reach out.

Masterlist

—

Since I was ten years old, anxiety and depression had been my closest unwelcome friend. Although, at the time I did not know it by that name. It was the nightly stomach ache at eight o’clock sharp every night. The insomnia when my parents sent to bed at nine o’clock. My brain keeping me awake after everyone else had fallen asleep, every night. I never had many friends as a child, I kept to myself. Social anxiety not allowing me to think anyone cared enough about me to want to get to know me.

Now, as an adult, I have managed to cope with my anxiety a bit better. However, when my depression gets bad, it is still an uphill climb. A battle that I internalize as much as I can, not wanting anyone else to see the darkness within. Especially when it comes to Sam and Dean, they have enough on their plates they don’t need to worry about me on top of all of that. They don’t need to know that every hunt that I go on with them haunts me in my sleep almost every night. The boys are an escape on their own, just being around them helps with any anxiety while I am awake. They calm me, their presence alone surrounds me with the feeling of love and protection. Not having to worry about if I am safe, when I am with them.

I had started hunting a few years back, I was unwilling at first, dragged into it by my late father. We had run into Sam and Dean while on a witch hunt, the very same hunt that claimed my fathers life. The boys took me in after that, ignoring my refusals of their help. Insisting, that they just needed my help with one more hunt, that turned into 2, which turned into 30. Until it just became the norm. I moved into the bunker with them and took it upon myself to keep the place cleaned and stocked with food. Not something they ever asked for or expected me to do, it is just how I show my love and appreciation for the two of them.

Today has been a difficult day, I had just gotten back from a solo hunt that I insisted on taking. Much to Sam and Dean's dismay and strong objections. However, I didn’t give them much choice, getting up early while they were still asleep and leaving in my truck. Sending them a quick text to explain where I was off to, with instructions not to worry or try to come after me. I regretted my choice, I should have brought them along. It would have made it easier to handle, made the loss a little bit easier to manage. I can still see the face of the woman I was seconds too late to save. Her eyes slowly closing, her hand gripping my arm, tears slowly running down her cheeks. I blink, bringing myself back to reality. I was parked in front of the bunker, back from the hunt. I reach up and wipe away the tears that had unknowingly fallen from my own eyes, as I was lost in my thoughts.

I open the drivers door, stepping down onto the gravel. Making quick work of grabbing my backpack and duffle from the back seat. I turn and walk towards the door, steeling myself before I walk into the bunker. Not wanting the boys to catch on to the fact that I am not doing well. I precariously balance my duffle bag on my knee as I try to unlock the door to the bunker, but instead I drop my keys.

“Christ,” I mumble, lightly kicking my foot against the door in frustration and blowing a strand of hair out of my eyes. The door jerks open, Dean grinning at me from the other side.

“Wow, thanks sweetheart. I knew I was great, but didn’t realize you thought I was Christ like!” He winks, reaching to take my bags from my hands.

“I got ‘em, thanks though.” I say, rolling my eyes and pushing past him to drop my bags on the floor in front of my room. His joke, that would normally make me laugh, striking the wrong nerve. Dean still stands by the door, confusion spreading across his face. Sam glances up from his seat at the table and gives me a smile, closing the book he was reading and setting it down on the wooden surface in front of him.

“How did the hunt go, Y/N?” Dean asks, closing the door and turning to look at me. His eyes scanning my face for any explanation for the way I had snapped at him. I sigh, and roll my shoulders out, releasing some of the tension I had been carrying between them.

“It went fine Dean, I am just tired and hungry.” I shrug, walking over to the fridge and pulling out a cold bottle of water, taking a few sips.

“Did something happen that you need to talk about?” Sam asks, turning his attention towards Dean and myself, his eyebrows raised in concern.

“Nope, nothing happened. Just tired.” I say, my tone growing more annoyed at having to repeat myself. I turn my back to the boys and walk towards my room, well aware of the looks that the they were giving each other. I am sure that this is not the last I will hear of this conversation.

—

Once I got to my room and shut the door, I could feel depression creeping over me, like a storm cloud, heavy, dark and looming. I took off my jeans and t-shirt and grabbed a pair of sweats and a sweatshirt that I had stolen from Sam, it was one of the ones he had gotten while he was in college. It was warm and comforting, so I always wore it on days like today.

I turned and headed towards my bathroom, deciding a shower was the best thing to do next. I turned the water on, as hot as I could stand it and climbed in. I stood under the water at first, working my fingers through the knots in my hair that had occured over the last few days of stressful hunting. I finished washing my hair within the first few minutes of the shower, but didn't get out. I slid down onto the tile and let my head rest against the wall. I embraced the emptiness I felt, letting the hot water overwhelm my senses. I lost track of time, only getting out of the shower when the water started to turn cold. I shut it off and grabbed my towel to dry off. I ran a brush through my hair before dressing myself in the clothes that I had brought in with me.

I walked out of the bathroom and surveyed my room, messy and cluttered, but mine. I flicked the light off and shuffled across the room before flopping onto my bed, not bothering to get under the covers.

I could hear the low tones of the boys talking in a nearby room, not enough to understand their words, but enough to know they were there. Knowing they were close by was comforting, but at this moment I just wanted to be alone.

The familiar ache in my stomach creeps in, anxiety at its finest. The horrors of the hunt washing back over me, like a tsunami I can't outrun. I scowl, a puff of air escaping my lips as I sigh, rolling onto my side. I pick up my phone, glancing at the unread messages on the screen.

Sam

8:07 P.M. : Hey, I don’t know if something is bothering you or not, but we're here if you need anything. Just yell.

9:45 P.M. : Dean is getting really worried, antsy even. I would at least text him back if you want to be left alone.

Dean-

8:33 P.M.: You said you were hungry, want a burger?

9:17 P.M. : You have been in the shower for over an hour, are you alive in there?

I shut off the screen, setting my phone on the table beside my bed. I close my eyes and try to sleep. However, sleep does not come. I toss and turn, the only thing I can see is her face as she takes her last breath. I can feel tears burning at the corners of my eyes, but I blink them away. Stupid. I was stupid to think I could have managed this on my own. It's all my fault that she's dead.

I am jerked from my thoughts by a knock on my door. I keep quiet, hoping that whoever it is they will go away. The knock sounds again, this time my door creaking open a couple of inches, enough for Dean to look through into my dark room. "If you don't want people to know you are ignoring them, you should turn your read receipts off. I know you are awake Y/N." I can hear the worry in his voice, his tone soft. As if he is speaking to a frightened animal, trying to reassure it that he isn't a threat.

"Go away Dean, I just want to be alone." I say, the unsteadiness in my voice way more evident than I wanted it to be. I bite my lip, hoping he won't notice how close to tears I really am.

"I knew you always push people away, I just never thought you’d do it to me." He says, stepping into my room and shutting the door behind him. It's dark, so I can hear him carefully making his way towards me. He chuckles as he trips over something on my floor, probably the jeans I had discarded earlier. He settles himself next to me on the other side of the bed, resting his back on the head board. I pull myself into a sitting position, hugging my legs to my chest and resting my chin on my knees. His weight shifts, and I can't tell what he is doing until the light on the bedside table clicks on. I protest, but am quickly silenced by the look that he gives me. I look away, hoping that he doesn't notice my red rimmed eyes.

"Now, you wanna tell me what happened? Or should I drag it out of you, like you know I will eventually." He asks, his hand coming to rest gently on my spine, tracing soft patterns on my skin.

I sit silent, except for the sniffles that I can't seem to stop. The tears starting to flow again. I sigh, before starting from the beginning. How I had left, the werewolves that I had encountered, the moment where I realized that I had fucked up. How scared I had felt, but that I didn't think I could call him, because I didn't want him to be mad at me. I pause after my last admission, taking a breath and clearing my throat.

"All of this, was bad enough. But then... Dean... I couldn't save her, she was too far gone by the time I got to her. If I had just been better, worked faster, If I hadn't hesitated because of fear then, she would still be here. It's all my fault, I-" The tears are streaming even harder now, leaving a trail, but quickly being replaced by another, a sob escapes me and I quickly try to cover it up, but he knows.

"Hey," He sighs, his hand squeezing the back of my neck to get my attention. When I don't look at him, his tactics change. He shifts his body around so he is sitting in front of me, he cups my chin in his hand tilting my face so his eyes can meet mine. "Stop that, right now. That thinking, is how we end up with another dead hunter. You are not at fault here, from what you told me, there was nothing anyone could have done by that point Y/N. You did your best, and that is something to stand behind." He gently tucks my hair behind my ear, his thumb brushing over my chin before bringing his hand back to his side.

My whole body is trembling at this point, my breathing shaky, muscles tense from trying to stop the unwanted movement making its way through my body. I look away from Dean once again, to wipe my tears on the sleeve of my shirt.

"I never wanted you to know this side of me Dean, that is why I pushed you away. I would've been fine in the morning." I mumble, barely loud enough for him to hear, I look at him once again, to find he's still staring back at me. His green eyes soft, yet concern is etched across his face. His brows pulled together in that all too familiar look of sympathy that I hate.

“Sweetheart, I’ve known this side of you since I first met you. I have it, Sam has it. Matter of fact if you didn’t have it, then I’d be concerned. You can’t do this line of work, without dealing with those things you mentioned. It’s normal, Y/N. You and Sam are the only things that get me out of bed some mornings, most mornings if I’m being honest.” He changes position again, moving back to my side, his arm snaking around my waist and pulling me into his side. I give in and lean against him, tucking my head under his chin. I relish this moment, the scent of his cologne hanging heavy in the air around me. The sound of his heartbeat and the steady rise and fall of his chest grounding me in ways I didn’t think possible. Dean holds me for awhile, not breaking the silence. I just need him to hold me and even though I never asked, he knew.

“I can sleep on the couch in here tonight, keep you company.” He offers, beginning to pull away from me. I immediately feel the lack of warmth his body was providing.

“No,” I say hurriedly, watching as confusion flashes over his features. “Can you sleep here? In bed with me?” I ask, bracing myself for his refusal. What was I thinking? Of course he wouldn’t say yes, why would he want to share a bed with me? But instead of refusal, he nods, a small smile spreading across his face. He sheds his flannel, t-shirt, and pants. Before pulling the covers back on my bed and sliding under them, laying on his side facing me.

“Hurry up and get under here, Y/N.” He says, but I don’t move fast enough for his liking. Because before I can blink, he’s pulling me towards his chest and throwing the blankets on top of me. It makes me laugh, small and short, but a laugh none the less. I can feel him smiling against my neck, his lips twitching up at the corners. I turn to face him, wrapping my arms around him in a hug that I was so unknowingly desperate for. We stay like that for quite a while, in silence. His breathing evening out, I assume he’s sleeping, so when he speaks I jump ever so slightly. His grip around me tightening.

“Promise you won’t shut me out again, sweetheart? I just want to be here for you. Just like you do for me.” He whispers, pressing the lightest kiss to my forehead. I nod, raising my chin too look up at him.

“I promise.”

A/N: Requests are open! Please send them to me. If you’d like to be added to my tag list, please let me know!

#deanwinchesterxreader #dean winchester #supernatural dean #deanwinchesterblurb #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester fic #dean winchester fluff #deanwinchesterfluff #sam and dean #sam winchester #spn #dean winchester angst #dean winchester comfort #wanderingwinchesters #supernatural #supernatural fic

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goldenbuckyyy · 1 year

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PARALYZED

Summary: Your mind is making you believe things you shouldn’t.

Pairings: Harry Styles x fem!Reader, Fem!Reader x OC, Mentions of HS x OC

Word Count: 4kish

Warnings: DOMESTIC VIOLENCE AGAINST PARTNER, mentions of blood, slapping, tugging, and previous events of D.V. Also being gaslit, believing something you shouldn’t, allures to depression, anxiety, PTSD from D.V events.

PLEASE DO NOT CONTINUE IF ANY OF THE ABOVE WARNINGS ARE TRIGGERING FOR YOU.

A/N: First off, I am so sorry I’m barely posting part 4! I know it’s been a long time since I posted part 3, but I was in a funk about this short series and I had no idea what to do with it! I’m thinking since it’s such a heavy topic, it felt almost draining, but.. here it is! And I hope you all enjoy it. 🫶🏻 thank you for supporting me and loving my work!! I’m also tagging the people that commented on the last part! Song Inspo: “Paralyzed” by NF

All my mistakes are my own. Please do not repost or translate my fics on any other site nor this one.

I appreciate any likes, reblogs, messages, and interactions. Please message me your thoughts!!! It fuels me!

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Two weeks.

It’s been two weeks since you’ve been home since your accident.

Accident.

The word felt weird in your brain. It felt weird in your mouth. It felt weird even thinking about it.

Because the more you thought about it… the more your brain tried to remember the events that had happened to you and the more pain it caused you.

You had spent the entire time locked up in your home.

Absolutely terrified to go outside. To see your friends. To see your family.

You hadn’t even seen Harry and it wasn’t for his lack of trying. He called. He texted. He even came to the house when he knew Asher would be at work. He’d stay outside for hours in his Range Rover and you’d secretly watch him from the window upstairs that he didn’t know had the perfect view of him.

And he looked just as rough as you felt.

But you couldn’t find it in yourself to speak to him. Let alone see him.

Sometimes.. sometimes you’d cry sitting against the front door as you listened to Harry talking to you from behind it.

But you would simply just text him to leave you alone and that you couldn’t speak to him anymore.

He sent you so many messages daily and it made you feel guilty. Guilty for shutting him out after he was there for you. Ashamed for what you had done to Asher. And terrified because you didn’t want anything to happen to Harry. The more you thought about what had happened to you… the more it made you afraid of Harry getting hurt because of you.

You just felt so horrible. So ashamed. So guilty. So gross.

You couldn’t even bring yourself to record anything for your socials.

You had been posting old drafts that you had saved for a rainy day and you feared that your followers were slowly realizing something was going on. But you ignored the feeling and persisted with your day to day life.

Well, you were trying.

Your body still aches. You still felt incredibly sore, but it was slowly getting better.

The swelling around your face had gone down and the bruising was now a greenish/yellowing color. You still felt horrible. You felt hideous and ashamed.

You didn’t know why, but you felt so ashamed of yourself.

And you were terrified of Asher.

You couldn’t even look at him. He had gone on with his day to day life after you had been released from the hospital. He tried to be there for you, but he could tell something was wrong because you wouldn’t let him touch you.

You were so scared of him and you didn’t know why. You kept having nightmares of ‘the accident’ and the more and more you dreamt of it… the more the person resembled Asher. The more you saw the figure in your mind… the more their features twisted into Asher’s.

Those dark eyes turned into angry blue ones. The messy black hair in your dreams turned into bright blonde. The blurry jaw turned sharp and all the features soon morphed into Asher. And it terrified you.

Had it been Asher who had done this to you?

The more you thought about it… the more those muffled words the person yelled turned into words yelled at you by Asher.

The more you think about it the more your breathing starts feeling restricted because you can almost feel the way his strong hand was pressed against the base of your neck. The way he was physically choking you against the wall and how you cried to him, begging him to let you go, but he never did.

Silent tears fall down your cheeks as the memories pile into your thoughts. You didn’t want to believe it.

You couldn’t believe it.

You grip onto your shoulders as you hug your knees to your chest and the cold bathtub feels good on your naked skin. But you feel hollow inside.. almost empty.

The water surrounding your naked body is cold and your skin is breaking out into goosebumps. But you can’t find it in yourself to get out of it.

You feel as if you’re drowning in all of your emotions with your heart pounding in your ears. Trying to find the meaning of why he did this to you.

Why would he leave you with these scars inside of you that will never heal?

You know what you did was wrong. So wrong. That’s why you hadn’t spoken to Harry in two weeks, but did you honestly deserve all of this?

Maybe you did.

Maybe you did deserve this.

You did this. You cheated on him. You hurt him first. You destroyed him first. He just got even.

The annoying little voice in your head kept repeating those sentences to you and you were starting to believe it.

You let out a shaky breath as your body shakes with it. You slowly start to get out of the bathtub, your body feeling weak, and you know you look like shit.

You had been feeling so nauseated and disgusting. You couldn’t keep anything down, but you kept trying.

You obviously haven't been eating right and your body is showing it, but you avoid yourself in the mirror and dry yourself off in the dark closet. You pull on an oversized jumper and matching bottoms. You braid your wet hair into a braid and let out a deep sigh. Your chest feels heavy.

You sit for a second, letting your eyes slowly go up, and you catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror. Your dark under eyes and hollow cheeks are enough to make you instantly look away. The bruises you still hold make your eyes sting. The fading handprint marks on your neck make you cringe. You close your eyes quickly and curse at yourself.

You slowly make your way to your bed, putting your phone to charge, and slipping under the covers.

And at that moment, Asher walks into the room in his work suit. His eyes immediately find you and you freeze in the bed.

You wonder if he knows that you know it was him.

Was it him?

It was.

His eyes never leave you as he bends down in front of you. You grip onto the covers around you and hold your breath when his fingers caress your face.

“How are you feeling?” He asks with sincerity in his voice and warmth in his eyes. And you wonder how he could have ever laid a hand on you.

“I’m okay,” you reply in a whisper and try to not shake underneath his touch.

Why are you afraid of him? He was upset and you deserved it.

“I’m glad,” he says as he quickly kisses your forehead and then goes into the bathroom. He shuts the door behind him and you let out a shaky breath that you were holding in. You wipe the wet kiss he left on your skin and then when you hear the shower start, your body relaxes into the bed.

Then your phone vibrates on your nightstand.

Your entire body runs cold and you quickly get it, jogging out of the room, and running downstairs.

You step outside into your patio and answer your phone. The cold air hitting your face and making you instantly shiver.

“You have to stop calling me,” you whisper immediately when you put the phone to your ear. Your heart thumps rapidly inside of your chest.

You hear a small sniffle from the other side of the call and your heart tightens.

“Sun..”

You clench your eyes tightly and try to even out your breathing, “Harry. I’ve told you to stop calling me. You.. you can’t call me anymore. Whatever we had, it’s done. It-it’s over.”

Even if your heart is screaming at you to let him back in. To ask him to come save you. To save you from Asher. To save you from yourself.

“Just please tell me why you’re still there! He hurt you! He did this to you. Why don’t you believe me?!” His voice is filled with anguish, disbelief, and he sounds absolutely devastated.

Because you can't admit that he did this to you. Because you deserve everything he did. Because you made the biggest mistake when you slept with Harry again. Harry doesn’t want you anymore.

You pinch the bridge of your nose as an uneasiness settles into the pit of your stomach. “What am I supposed to do, Harry? I-I don’t even know if it was him! I feel crazy! I feel insane! I-I feel insane for the way my brain is slowly making images of him doing this to me! How could—he didn’t,” you start pacing your backyard, wet grass tickling your feet, “How could he have done this to me?” You silently beg him for an answer.

You weep silently as he asks, “You remember?”

You silently groan and wipe your tears away in a rush.

“I don’t know what I remember! I-I don’t know what’s real or what’s fake. I just know that you need to stop calling me,” you demand as you quickly end the call and sit down on your patio chair. Trying to relax your heart rate as the ugly images rush in your brain.

You clench your eyes tightly together, your hands grasping at the roots of your hair, and you let out a little whimper.

Stop crying. You deserved it.

You slowly start to work on your breathing, your entire body shaking with feelings of anxiety and desperation, and you lean back onto the chair. Letting yourself inhale deeply and calmly. Your eyes are still closed as you try to relax.

“Y/N?”

Asher’s voice startles you which makes you flinch, which causes you to jump in the chair, your hands gripping onto the arm rests in a panic, and gasping deeply. Your eyes go wide in fright and you see Asher standing in front of you in only his pajama pants. His blonde hair is wet and messy.

“Hey, it’s just me.” He coos at you, leaning down to watch you, his cold hands covering your own, and you try not to snatch them back.

He notices your hesitation and he frowns.

“Why are you outside?” His voice suddenly turned cold.

“I just needed some fresh air,” you lie as you try to speak clearly and without any shakiness.

Because your mind won’t stop trying to tell you about what happened.

His eyebrows furr and his lips go tight.

“You need to come inside before you catch a cold,” he demands. His hand tightens around your wrist and he basically tugs you onto your feet and drag you inside.

You yelp loudly, “Asher, what are you doing? Let go of me!”

He loves you. He wouldn’t hurt you. Would he?

He already did.

His hand only grips tighter around you as he drags you into the kitchen.

The only place you had been avoiding since the accident. Your heart rate immediately goes sky high, confusion runs through you, and you beg, “Asher.. wh-what are you doing? Let me go, please.”

Fear runs through your body when he shoves you into the kitchen stool and he stands in front of you.

“Since when do you remember?”

Your mouth goes dry as your eyes go wide, “Remember what?”

He rolls his eyes, crossing his arms across his chest, and his dark eyes turn to you. “Let’s just stop this game where you pretend you don’t remember what I did to you and why I did it to you.”

“I…I don��t—I don’t know…”

You look down to try to avoid his hard stare and start fumbling with your fingers. A feeling of uneasiness surrounds you.

His hand slams onto the countertop, the loud bang making you jump, and tears fill your eyes. Because you’re terrified. Your lip quivers in fright.

“Stop fucking lying to me!! You’ve been lying to me for years! Saying you and Harry are over! That-that nothing was going on between you guys! That it was over! It was never fucking over!! You kept fucking him behind my back and I want to know why!”

His hands grip your arms tightly, tears falling down your cheeks as you try to avoid his eyes, and he grabs your chin in his hand.

“Stop fucking crying and tell me why you kept fucking him!!” He roars at you as angry tears run down his face, chest heaving in rage, and he looks terrifying.

You cry into his palm, “I-I d-don't know why! It-it just happened, I s-swear!! Please, Asher! Please believe me! It only h-happened a couple times and—-“ you whine as his grip tightens around your chin and pain shoots all over your body from it.

“So, who’s the father?”

What?

His question makes your tears halt, you suck in a deep breath, and your hands immediately go into his wrist to try and pull him off of you. Your eyes staring into his own in shock, “What are you t-talking about?!”

Father?

He shoves you off his palm and you steady yourself in the chair again, watching him, and trying to stop more tears from falling. He walks around the kitchen, shaking his head, and he lets out a chuckle in disbelief.

“Asher!” You cry out, standing up this time even though you are shaking from head to toe, and you feel completely afraid of him. You have to know what he meant.

“What are you talking about?!”

He turns to look down at you, his eyes roaming your body, and he stops at your belly. You flinch under his attention, wrapping your arms around yourself as if you’re trying to protect your body from him, and he moves closer to you.

“I told the nurse from the hospital that I’m your fiancée and she told me that you’re pregnant.” You gasp loudly, covering your mouth as sobs break through you, “The only reason why they told me was because they were about to tell you after they checked your blood work again to make sure, but I begged them not to say anything. Saying something about how it would be too much for you too soon.” He rolls his eyes at your sobs and continues, “I had to practically beg on my knees for them not to tell you, but you were beaten up so bad that they felt bad for you.”

He leans down to look into your eyes as you try to back away.

“Little did they know it was me who did it to you,” he whispers, “but then I found out you’re pregnant. And I admit.. I did feel a little bit guilty. But then I felt pissed. Because I don’t even know if the baby is mine. Do you?”

You whimper as he gets closer to you, your arms wrapping tighter around your body, and you look down to your feet.

“You did this to me,” you sob out in a whisper, finally admitting it out loud, and you feel your shoulders start to shake.

He suddenly grabs your neck and in an instant without even hesitation, you react by slapping his face hard. The loud smack startles him as an angry groan rages out of his chest and you instantly retract backwards, fumbling and tripping on your feet to the floor.

Why would you hit the man who loves you?

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I’m sorry! Don’t touch me, I’m sorry! Please don’t hit me!” The words fly out of your mouth at a rapid speed as you quickly scatter into the corner of the room into a ball, trying to shield yourself from him with your arms, and your breathing picks up instantly.

Asher’s quick steps allow him to reach you in an instant, his big hands swallow your wrist, and he pulls you to your feet. You stumble into his embrace as he holds you tightly against his body.

His free hand tugs into your hair, pulling at it by the roots and he laughs when you let out a pained whine, and tears spring out in the corner of your eyes, and you’re frozen in his hold.

He’s pulling your hair down so that you’re looking up at him, his tight hold doesn’t let you move an inch, and his white teeth are covered in his own blood from the hard hit you gave him.

“Are you scared of me?” He questions as he slowly caresses your face.

You let out a low whimper as you watch him, scared to even breathe.

“Why would I ever hit you? You’re my fiancé and I love you,” his voice is steady and cynical. You gulp down the lump in your throat as your lips quiver.

Your body is aching already from his tight hold and you wish you were braver.

“I would never hurt you again. Don’t you trust me?” he whispers into your neck as he starts kissing down your jaw. You shiver at his touch and don’t move.

“Isn’t that right? I would never hurt you again. I’m sorry I ever touched you like I did before. I was only upset. You forgive me, right?,” he whispers into your mouth as his lips hover over yours and he slowly kisses you. Fear is etched into every single fiber of your body and you don’t close your eyes as you watch him kiss your lips.

You let out a shaky breath as you move your lips against his as you try and think of what to do. How would you even get out of this situation?

He’s taller than you. He’s stronger and faster than you’ll ever be. You don’t think you’d be able to make it far. You don’t think you’d make it out the door without him catching you.

“And now you’re carrying my baby. I’m not ever going to hurt you again,” he whispers into your mouth as you cry silently.

What are you going to do now?

Harry couldn’t live with you.

He couldn’t eat. He couldn’t sleep. He couldn’t fucking think without you.

He couldn’t even fucking breathe without you.

His chest hurt from your absence in his life and he was trying so fucking hard to help you. But you wouldn’t let him in.

He tried calling, he tried texting, he tried staying outside of your house to get you to talk to him, but you just wouldn’t. He didn’t want to force you to remember and he didn’t want to physically take you away from your home.

He couldn’t do that to you. But he was terrified every single second of the day. He didn’t know what to do.

He tried talking to your family and seeing if they had spoken to you or seen you, but they said they hadn’t. They said you messaged them every day, but only simple worlds that you were okay and that you were recovering. And that you were tired and needed to be alone.

It was killing Harry. Physically, mentally, and emotionally.

He was torn about what to do. Because he didn’t know what the fuck to do. How was he supposed to just take you away from your home? It would be basically kidnapping.

But he was scared that Asher was going to hurt you again. How was he supposed to know if he didn’t already?

He just wanted you to be okay. He just needed to see you. He just wanted to be with you.

He’d protect you. He’d love you. He’d keep you safe.

If only you’d let him.

And now you weren’t even speaking to him. You kept telling him to leave you alone and that everything that had happened between you two was a mistake.

How was he supposed to believe that? You are the love of his life.

He couldn’t give two fucks about Vivian and Asher.

Matter of fact, he called off his engagement with Vivian the second he got home from the hospital and she was out of his home the next day. She said she knew it was too good to be true and apparently fucked off to Paris.

Harry couldn’t bring himself to care because he was too worried about you. And he knew what he was doing wasn’t healthy. But what else is he supposed to do?

Kidnap you?

Take you away from your home and keep you in his?

Keep you in his home until you remember what Asher did to you? And make you leave him?

Maybe he should.

Harry’s eyes started burning as tears filled the brim of his eyes and he stumbles out a loud, frustrated sigh, because he’s so tired. He’s so fucking tired of crying!

He’s so upset at himself for not doing anything. He’s pissed off at the world. He’s pissed at himself. He’s pissed off at Asher for ever touching you and he’s pissed off at your brain for making you forget.

He wants to kill Asher. He wants to beat him to a pulp. He wants to make him hurt the way you hurt.

But how is he supposed to do that when you still believe he’s the golden boy you used to love?

Harry knows he’s not supposed to call you. He knows you probably won’t answer. You never do. Well, usually. But he misses your voice. He needs to hear your voice. He begs god that you remember and that you ask him to come for you. Please. He needs this.

He clicks on the first contact in his favorites list and his breathing almost hitches when he hears your voice.

“You have to stop calling me,” he hears your sweet voice whisper into the phone. His heart tightens in his chest.

He sniffles as he feels his lips quiver and he frowns, “Sun…”

“Harry. I’ve told you to stop calling me. You.. you can’t call me anymore. Whatever we had, it’s done. It-it’s over.”

He can hear your strangled breathing on the other side of the phone. His heart is thumping rapidly at your words. He pinches the bridge of his nose.

“Just please tell me why you’re still there! He hurt you! He did this to you. Why don’t you believe me?!” He yells into the phone trying not to get too upset. But he feels so much pain right now. He feels devastated. He just needs you to believe him. Why don’t you believe him?

He clutches his own chest as if he’s trying to console his own heart from the pain he’s feeling.

“What am I supposed to do, Harry? I-I don’t even know if it was him! I feel crazy! I feel insane! I-I feel insane for the way my brain is slowly making images of him doing this to me! How could—he didn’t.. How could he have done this to me?”

Harry listens to your rapid words and he aches for you. All he wants to do is take away everything you’re feeling. He wants to take away all your pain.

He begs god to give it to him instead. He can handle it. He can take it.

You can’t. He doesn’t know if he can save you from this. He wants to save you. And then it clicks.

He silently gasps when your words click in his own brain.

“You remember?”

He hears you groan into the phone before you speak again, “I don’t know what I remember! I-I don’t know what’s real or what’s fake. I just know that you need to stop calling me.”

Then, the line goes dead.

Harry stares at the phone in shock. His mind reels a million thoughts every second. What should he do?

He doesn’t even think before he shoves on some shoes and goes into his Range Rover.

He’s going to save you. Even if it kills him. He’s going to take you away from Asher.

And he hopes you forgive him for not coming sooner.

Tag list: @yellowtrain28 @sarcas-latte @st-ev-ie @ingrid-ingrid-ingrid @cherry01 @writinghost @that-daydream-look @marzhshaim

#harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x you #harry styles x female reader #harry styles x fem!reader #harry styles x influencer!reader #harry styles writing #harry styles angst #harry styles au #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fan fic #harry styles #harry styles imagine #illicitaffairsau #harry styles cheating #harry styles smut #harry styles x y/n smut

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warabidakihime · 11 months

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A Glimpse Beyond Grief: Prologue

Characters: Toji Fushiguro x Reader | Office AU | Both characters are in their early 30s | toji is good daddy in this uwu Synopsis: galactically intertwined journey of two souls: one navigating the depths of loss, the other offering a beacon of healing. through witty banter and unspoken connections, they find solace in unexpected places, uncovering the resilience of the human spirit and the power of love to mend even the most shattered hearts. Content warning: profanity, (eventual) smut, highkey adult themed, can be psychologically and emotionally triggering for some so read with caution.

Toji's voice echoed through the house, a sense of urgency coloring each word. "Megumi! Tsumiki! Hurry up!" His eyes darted to the clock, ticking away the precious minutes before his crucial job interview.

From the upper floor, Megumi's small, hurried voice floated down. "Wait! I'm still tying my shoes!"

"Hurry up! I can't be late for my interview!" Toji called back, the weight of the day pressing on him.

"Be there in a second, Dad!" Tsumiki's reassuring response reached him, a small comfort in the chaos.

Toji sighed, standing in the foyer, anxiety gnawing at him. Today was no ordinary day; it was his final interview for a job he desperately needed. The past year had been a relentless struggle since his wife's tragic death, a wound that refused to heal. But today, he needed to be more than just a grieving widower; he needed to be a father, a provider.

Exactly a year had passed since the accident that shattered his world. His wife's life was cut short by a drunk driver, leaving Toji to navigate the overwhelming responsibilities of single parenthood. The pain lingered, an ever-present companion in his daily life.

Months of grief and depression had followed, a period where Toji lost himself in a haze of despair. He isolated himself, succumbing to the numbing embrace of alcohol and neglecting his basic needs. The memories of that time were a blur, a testament to the severity of his trauma.

Megumi, at seven years old, and Tsumiki, at eight, sought refuge with their grandparents during those dark days, visiting their father cautiously, ensuring he was in a state to be seen. It seemed as though everyone had given up on Toji, convinced he was a lost cause.

But one night, in the midst of his self-destructive routine, Toji's gaze landed on a family photo. His wife's smile and the innocent joy radiating from his children's faces pierced through his numbness. In that moment, a spark of clarity emerged, an epiphany that whispered of a responsibility he could not ignore.

Today, as he waited for his young children to join him in the rushed chaos of their morning routine, Toji carried the weight of the past year on his shoulders. The interview was not just about a job; it was a chance for redemption, a step towards reclaiming his role as a father and provider.

Toji needed to wake up from his stupor and get his life together. If not for himself, at least for Megumi and Tsumiki, who relied on him to be there for them. If their mother were still alive, she would have given him a good smack for neglecting their well-being. And so, fast forward to the present, and here he is, doing his darndest for them. Though despite his eagerness to start anew, job hunting hasn't been a very pleasant journey for Toji.

He has been going from interview to interview for five months, but luck hasn't been on his side until a week ago, when a company reached out to him, offering a possible job position. Of course, Toji immediately accepted and went through the application process almost right away, and so far, it's been going well. He passed the initial interview and panel interview, and even though the company is an hour away from his home address, they were more than willing to grant his preferred salary, and their company benefits weren't too shabby either.

It'll do for now.

Toji slows down the car as the kids’ school finally comes into view; he then turns to them for a second before focusing on the road again, “I won’t be able to pick you up later, okay? The interview I’ll be going to is fairly far from here so I might take a while considering the distance and traffic later. Grandma will come and fetch you. You can spend the night with them if you want too.”

Megumi nodded while his face was perpetually glued to his phone, “Okay.”

Tsumiki, on the other hand, flashes his dad an encouraging smile, “Best of luck, Dad!”

Toji softened at his daughter’s words of affirmation, “If I score this job, I will take you both out for dinner. You can choose whatever you want to eat.”

Upon hearing this, Megumi finally looked away from his phone and turned to his father with an expectant look on his face, “Really?”

Toji couldn’t help but snicker at his son’s reaction; he then reached out to him to gently tap his fist on his son’s chest, “A man never goes back on his words.”

After bidding his kids farewell, he set out for the neighboring city to attend his final interview. As he journeyed there, Toji couldn't help but feel a surge of nervousness. Uncharacteristically agitated, he found himself being snappy on the road, even verbally shouting at a car that changed lanes abruptly. The profanities he spewed might have left anyone who heard them scared for life, as Toji appeared scarier than he had ever been before.

However, another part of him was also angry at drivers in general, given what happened to his wife. If only they had been a little more responsible, she would still be by his side, reproaching him for losing his temper on the road.

To prevent any further thoughts of his late wife from plaguing his mind, Toji shook his head and directed all his attention and concentration towards the upcoming interview. He knew he couldn't erase memories of her forever, but for now, if he wanted to move forward and flourish, he needed to push any distracting thoughts to the back of his mind. For the sake of Megumi and Tsumiki, he was more than willing to compartmentalize the memories of their mother and focus solely on his new path ahead.

After an hour of driving, he finally arrived at his destination. Toji stood before the imposing building, his heart pounding wildly in his chest from nervousness. The rejections from his previous job applications had taken a toll on his self-esteem, despite having an impressive degree and a colorful, praiseworthy career.

Taking a deep, heavy sigh, Toji gathered his courage and pushed himself to enter the building, determined to give his best shot at acing the final interview.

"Mr. Toji Fushiguro? Ms. L/N, Y/N is ready to see you now. You may proceed to her office."

Toji acknowledged the secretary with a nod and a brisk "Got it," then rose from his seat to attend the final interview. The position at stake was Executive Assistant, a role that would place him directly under your supervision, offering a perfect opportunity to gauge compatibility.

"Good morning, Mr. Fushiguro," you greeted with a warm handshake, guiding him towards the chair near your desk. As you observed him, you detected a momentary blankness in his gaze, swiftly replaced by an intense focus as your eyes met. It was as if he had shifted gears, honing in on the upcoming interaction. His greeting, delivered in a husky tone, was accompanied by a faint smile, creating an intriguing dynamic in the room.

"Good morning to you too, Ms. L/N, Y/N. Nice to meet you," he responded.

You reciprocated with a polite smile. "Likewise. Please, make yourself comfortable. Let me know when you're ready, and we can begin."

Toji settled into the chair with ease, projecting an air of confidence that hinted at a dominant personality.

'Clearly the type who commands attention when entering a room,' you thought.

"Let's get started. I'm all set," Toji declared, prompting you to open his resume and delve into his credentials. As you scanned through his work history, your amazement grew evident. "It says here that you were the CEO of your own business. Can you shed some light on what happened there?"

His response was accompanied by an enigmatic expression, a blend of dread and detachment. Yet, as he began to speak, his voice resonated with confidence. "My wife passed away last year, and I wasn't in a position to sustain my business. I'd rather not delve into the details, if that's alright."

"Absolutely. We can keep it professional. My sincerest condolences," you replied, offering a genuine note of sympathy.

Toji met your gaze, a faint, crooked smile on his lips. "Thank you."

"Moving on, you have an impressive background in banking. What led you to shift to the HR sector?"

Toji leaned back, his eloquence shining through. "I wanted to explore new opportunities. Despite my extensive experience in banking, I'm no stranger to HR. I worked for a consulting firm, catering to financial clients. Later, I ran my own business. The shift seemed natural."

Your smile widened. "Your insights are invaluable, Mr. Fushiguro."

Toji responded with a charming smile. "The pleasure's mine, Y/N."

'Already on a first-name basis, huh?' you mused, managing to suppress a smirk.

As the final interview with Mr. Toji Fushiguro unfolded, you posed standard questions, delving into topics such as his availability and adaptability to a hybrid work setup, considering his role as a single father. Reassured by his commitment, he affirmed his ability to be onsite twice a week. Discussions extended to compensation and company benefits, both monetary and non-monetary, and concluded with a firm handshake, officially welcoming him to the company.

"Truthfully, you were practically a shoo-in for the job. Our final interviews are more of a formality, a gauge for compatibility with the supervisor and company culture. As you've proven, you passed with flying colors. Congratulations and welcome to JJK Holdings. Looking forward to working with you, Mr. Fushiguro."

Toji reciprocated the handshake with confidence, his smile widening. "Likewise. Thank you, Y/N."

With a final exchange of handshakes, you bid each other farewell. As Toji exited your office and disappeared from view, you glanced at your hand that had just shaken his. A faint blush crept across your cheeks, quickly dismissed as you refocused on the captivating city view outside your window.

"Looks like we've got a new face in the company," you joked aloud, addressing no one in particular. A chuckle escaped your lips at the lighthearted thought, keeping the atmosphere light.

'Focus, Y/N,' you reminded yourself, shaking off the momentary distraction.

Taking a deep breath, you let the welcomed intrigue of having Mr. Toji Hotshot Fushiguro on board settle in. He promised to be a valuable addition to the team, and optimism filled you as you considered the fresh perspective he would bring.

Throughout the day, as you managed various tasks and attended meetings, Toji's name kept surfacing in your thoughts. Beyond his impressive background and confidence during the interview, there was an underlying curiosity about the man behind the resume. At times, you felt a twinge of guilt, knowing he was still navigating grief and had other pressing priorities.

'Keep it professional,' you reminded yourself sternly, pushing aside personal musings. Nevertheless, a subtle anticipation lingered as you looked forward to working with Toji, eager to discover the dynamic he would introduce to the company.

After the successful interview, Toji headed home with a newfound sense of accomplishment that had eluded him for quite some time. Driving, he couldn't help but replay the conversation with you, his new boss. Your initial surprise at his former CEO position, the genuine condolences you offered, and the subtle interest you displayed in his career choices had all left him curious about the future interactions he might have with you.

From the moment Toji stepped into your office, he couldn't help but take notice. A commanding figure, you radiated a presence that demanded attention—confident, capable, and unyielding. It was a subtlety that impressed him, and as your eyes met, he caught a glint of curiosity that sparked something within him, a sensation he struggled to articulate.

During the interview, your insightful questions caught him off guard. Anticipating formality, he found himself letting his guard down as you delved into his past experiences. The subtle nods and genuine interest in your expressions were a rare quality, making him feel at ease and prompting him to open up in ways he hadn't in a long time.

Playful banter found its way into the conversation—an unexpected cheeky remark here and a witty response there. You weren't the typical stiff and formal interviewer, and Toji couldn't help but match your energy. The interview, meant to be serious business, transformed into something far more enjoyable. The interaction felt refreshing, like a breath of fresh air that swept away the heaviness he had carried for too long.

As the final handshake concluded and you bid each other farewell, Toji found himself lingering for a moment longer. There was a spark, a connection that transcended the professional setting. Whether it was the shared sense of humor or the way you seemed to understand him with gentle insight, he felt a thrill in the air—a glimmer of hope that had been dormant for too long.

'Well, well, Ms. Y/N, you've certainly piqued my interest,' Toji thought mischievously, a hint of a smile playing at the corners of his lips. 'Looks like this new job is going to be a whole lot more interesting than I thought.'

At home, Toji decided to channel his energy into some productive spring cleaning. It proved to be therapeutic, providing a welcome distraction to tidy up the house and clear his mind of the lingering stress from the whirlwind of emotions that accompanied the interview process. Polishing furniture, dusting shelves, and meticulously organizing the kids' rooms allowed him a sense of control he sorely needed.

Once the house felt fresh and inviting, Toji picked up Megumi and Tsumiki from their grandparents' house. The kids animatedly chatted about their day, but Toji's thoughts lingered on his new job and the memory of their late mother. Despite this, he made a conscious effort to engage in their conversation, injecting humor to elicit their laughter.

True to his promise, Toji treated them to a well-deserved pizza night at their favorite family restaurant. Settling into a cozy booth, he watched with softened eyes as his children eagerly selected their favorite toppings. Their happiness was infectious, bringing a genuine smile to his face.

Throughout dinner, playful banter flowed between Toji and the kids. He teased them, allowing them to reciprocate, creating a light-hearted atmosphere. As the pizza night concluded, they drove back home with contented hearts. Toji tucked his kids into bed, kissing their foreheads—a ritual he had embraced more religiously since his wife's passing. Though he might not express it verbally, his actions spoke volumes of his deep affection for them.

Stepping out of their room, he reflected on the new chapter awaiting him at JJK Holdings. His heart swelled with hope for a fresh start and an even brighter future, not just for himself but for Megumi and Tsumiki as well.

'Challenge accepted,' he thought with determination.

Tomorrow marked the beginning of his new journey, and he embraced it with open arms as he settled into his own bed. Thoughts buzzed with possibilities, eagerly anticipating what the future held for him and his children.

In the haze of drowsiness, his thoughts drifted to you.

"Will you haunt my dreams and slap me if I say my new boss is a feast for the eyes?" he blurted out, half-hoping the ghost of his late wife would hear him.

A soft chuckle escaped his lips, and moments later, sleep finally claimed him.

#warabidakihime #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #jjk smut #toji smut #toji x you #toji x reader #toji fushiguro smut #toji fushiguro x you #toji fushiguro x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk headcanons #jjk imagine #jujutsu kaisen headcanons #jujutsu kaisen imagine

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kimetsu-chan · 23 days

Note

hi, so it says that all requests are closed, and I’m assuming that means emergency requests too..? Because it’s ‘ALL’

But when they open could you write a Muichiro comfort fic for me…? So basically what’s happening is that I’ve been feeling extremely suicidal, and depressed. I came out as a therian to my mom, she’s been very unsupportive and called me mentally unstable and not developed, a Therian/otherkin is a person who identifies as a non-human animal on a psychological or spiritual level based on animilastic urges and/or behaviours…. And I’ve just been having really bad dreams and thinking a lot about my past how my father abused and almost killed my mom, got her into a coma, and I would think of running away and thought it was my fault. My father sexually harassed me. I have anxiety, think I’m annoying, hate myself stuff like that.

so why I’m in need of a Muichiro comfort fic is bc every night I draw marks on my wrist ok, and so every night I try cutting it, each night trying to go deeper or hold down the knife longer…

so that’s why maybe when requests open I was wondering if you could write one for me…

Thankyou for reading this all… have a nice day☺️ and feel free to ignore me I’m used to it! <3

~Not Tonight~

A/N: first of all, I am incredibly sorry for the miscommunication, emergency requests are open, I should’ve conveyed that better. Secondly, I am extremely saddened to hear of what has happened to you :( it’s not something you should deal with. I hope that this could be the comfort you need, and I apologize if it is not on par with what you require right now. Please take care of yourself <3

TWs ⚠️: sh will be heavily implied in this fic, along with thoughts of suicide being mildly implied, please do not read if such topics are uncomfortable or triggering.

This takes place after he regains his memories

It was extremely odd, the way you wore the longest sleeves even in the hottest weather, it perplexed Muichiro.

He didn’t understand why, but then again, he had trouble understanding the purpose of most things.

At first, he didn’t pay much mind to it, maybe it was a sense of comfort? But he saw the way you were always on the edge of passing out from the heat, and how… unsettlingly empty your eyes were.

He watched as you trained, standing idly in the shade. He had been taking a water break and decided to watch you tiredly swing your training sword.

His chest tightened painfully, and he looked down at it with confusion. He immediately associated the uncomfortable feeling with looking at you in your exhausted state. Was he concerned? Surely no, you were a subordinate. But you were his subordinate, and he used that to justify why he was worried.

Muichiro kept a steady eye on you for the next week or so, the borderline painful feeling of concern popping up at least twice a day.

You looked exceptionally worse today, more so than normal. You had collapsed due to your body not being able to withstand the unbearable heat any longer. Of course, in a fit of worry, he rushed to your side, quickly checking for a concussion or any other injuries.

The boy frowned down at you as he held your head up, and that was the most expressive you’d seen him in a while.

“[Name], I told you this would happen, you need to dress appropriately for training..!”

He reached to roll your skin-tight sleeves up but was halted by a sharp “no” from you.

Needless to say, he did not listen, proclaiming your safety was far more important, so of course he saw. He found out, and you were worried if he’d be disgusted with you.

But when he looked in your eyes once more, his gaze was devoid of disgust or disappointment. His eyes stared at you with worry and guilt and confusion.

You could see it in his eyes, the silent ask of “why” of why you felt the need to do such things to yourself.

Without thinking, you provided a short explanation, you told him when you did it, why you did it, and how bad the thoughts were getting.

It only aided in the shattering of his heart.

How could he have been so oblivious…? Could he have provided help if he had noticed sooner?

No, there was no use in beating himself up for what he didn’t do, he needed to make sure that you stopped. He vowed to you that day, that he’d pay better attention, stay with you when you needed it, help you whenever you relapsed, and anything more you could possibly need.

As he spoke, his eyes began to tear up against his will. He held you closer, trying to appear strong for you because you needed the comfort.

He didn’t want to lose you, especially not to yourself, he needed you…. So with a shaky voice, he uttered a few words as he wrapped his arms around you.

“Not-… not tonight, please…”

A/N: I urge and encourage you to seek advise and help from a therapist if you have the comfort and means to do so, once again, I am so sorry for everything that has happened to you. I sincerely hope this can bring you even the slightest sliver of comfort, and I hope you recover from any and all thoughts quickly :( <3

No taglist for this fic

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sokkadora · 2 years

Note

hey i saw your requests are open and was wondering if you could write a fluff/comfort thingy with hunter from owl house? my brain's just been really stupid so maybe the reader is feeling really anxious and hunter notices (because of course he would, poor boi has anxiety too) and helps them through a panic attack or smth? idk, i'd just really like it because like i said, my brain's been stupid so i'd just like it… but no pressure of course if it makes you uncomfortable. 💜

stress reliever — hunter (gg) x park!reader

summary: hey i saw your requests are open and was wondering if you could write a fluff/comfort thingy with hunter from owl house? my brain's just been really stupid so maybe the reader is feeling really anxious and hunter notices (because of course he would, poor boi has anxiety too) and helps them through a panic attack or smth? idk, i'd just really like it because like i said, my brain's been stupid so i'd just like it… but no pressure of course if it makes you uncomfortable. 💜

a/n: i am FINALLY getting to these requests after months of writers block and severe depression WOOHOO FOR ME :DD I HOPE YOU ENJOY THIS LOVELIES — also no panic attacks in this only because!! i’m feeling particularly anxious right now and don’t need to trigger one

wc: 601

warning(s): stress, anxiety, etc

To put it quite plainly, the last few weeks have been… a lot.

As Willow’s (adopted/biological) older sister, and being involved with the Owl Lady and Luz Noceda, the Day of Unity has been on your mind a lot recently.

You, Eda, and Lilith were still trying to brainstorm a plan in your heads within the last week you have left.

Your boyfriend wasn’t oblivious to this; you’ve been more and more distant, spacey, and your appearances at the hangouts been Willow, Gus, and him have become less frequent. He’s worried.

You knew that, even now, while you’re hunched over a desk, pencil in hand and crumpled up papers on your floor, bed, desk, and spilling out of your trash can. Your back aches to be straightened, and the hunched position is becoming so uncomfortable that your stomach hurts and is urging your to get more comfortable or take a break.

You hear muffled speaking from downstairs, you figured it was your dads having another chat over coffee and decided to ignore it.

Your palisman, a frog, who you adopted from the Bat Queen, hopped onto your lap and stuck his tongue to the bottom of your jaw. You sighed, plucking it off and placing him back on the ground.

You dropped your head onto the desk and groaned, the chair you’re sitting in rolling back as you lean forward. You stare at the scribbled out words on the paper in front of you, and your vision began to blur with tears as your throat tightened up.

“Why am I like this?” You grumbled, sitting up and wiping your eyes.

“Like what?”

You jumped, placing a hand on your chest as you turned to see who it was.

“Hunter, you scared the crap out of me!” You breathed out in relief, turning your head back and wiping your nose on your shoulder.

“Sorry, I just… I, uh, wanted to check on you.” He nervously tugged at his gloved fingers, leaving the door a crack open as he entered the room.

“Look, Hunter, I appreciate it but I really don’t have time to hang out with anyone right now,” You sighed, standing to face him as he started to clear your bed of the papers.

“We don’t have to hang out, but at least take a break. Even a short nap would be fine.” He sighs, dropping them in the trash next to your desk. He walks up behind you and places his hands on your shoulders, rubbing them firmly, but with enough softness that you sank into it. “Please? I’ll try and figure out something with (P/N) while you get some shut eye. Your parents said you were up all night.”

He guides you to your bed and sits you down, and as much as you want to argue, your bed feels so comfortable and enticing right now, that you just flop back on it. You hear Hunter chuckle faintly, mumbling about how stupid you are, and oh, how you love the tone he’s speaking in.

He grabs your legs and turns you the right way on the bed, tossing the comforter over you and positioning your head on the pillow just the way you like to.

He cards his hands through your hair, staring down at you softly, “Get some rest, sweetheart. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

Grumbling, you crack your eyes open as he caressed your cheek with the back of his knuckles.

“You don’t have to.”

“I want to. Now sleep, you idiot.” He leans down and kisses your forehead, and sleep washes over you peacefully.

#golden guard x reader #hunter x reader #toh hunter x reader #hunter toh x reader #the owl house x reader #toh x reader #the owl house imagines #zoe's works

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olderthannetfic · 10 months

Note

u have a no nonsense perspective i appriciate. am i being overly sensitive if i'm kinda triggered by those adhd comics where the protagonist gets diagnosed/accepts themselves and says something along the lines of "i get to forgive myself?!"? because my brain automatically injects "unlike those other people who don't have a reason to fail and cant/shouldnt forgive themselves". im neurotypical so im not the target audience but my friends keep putting that stuff on my dash and idk how to deal

A lot of "my minority is so great" art is kind of implicitly saying so at the expense of others. Dwelling on it is oversensitive, but I think you're right that there's a bit of weird subtext sometimes. (My personal most hated flavor on tumblr is Smug Asexuality Comics, but there are many versions.)

Lots of people can run into Executive Function, What Executive Function? problems, both from other neurodivergence and from things like situational depression, anxiety directly caused by stress, etc. If life throws a lot at you at once, you won't necessarily escape all these symptoms just because you don't happen to have a specific diagnosis of neurodivergence or chronic mental illness.

A lot of shit overlaps and so do a lot of coping mechanisms that can handle it. The named problems are just a specific constellation of symptoms that are particularly long-term, particularly intense, and that don't relate as much to changes in environment. So perhaps some people deserve extra help coping and extra understanding, but the building blocks of all these problems are things that everybody could use a helping hand with.

I doubt most of these comics are trying to say "nobody else deserves nice things", but one does sometimes come away with that impression.

What you should do next depends on whether your problem is that your friends are posting things you find annoying or whether you feel like you are not allowed leeway and forgiveness (by your own brain, by your friends, by your family).

One of these should be ignored. The other...

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cheegu3 · 10 months

Note

Hey can I request a yandere juyeon (the boyz)

By the way I don’t really know how to write request (this is actually my first time!!) and don’t worry if you don’t want to write this request you can ignore this

Wishing you a nice day

hi, your request was perfect don’t worry. I was actually really happy to receive this even tho it took some time bc tbz is one of the groups I really like rn ! c:

tw / trigger warning; yandere themes, abusive relationships, stalking, creepy behavior, murder, blood, cursing, kidnapping

wc; 1.8k

note; u didn’t write a prompt so I came up with one myself, I hope u like it 🖤🖤

Juyeon - 02:04

You could hear his footsteps behind you and the occasional pants, echoing against the walls of the alleys and tunnels you passed by. But he sounded nowhere near as tired as you did, which was a terrifying realisation.

Despite lungs and legs burning, screaming for you to stop and give up, give into the predator chasing you - you kept running.

Time felt like it had been moving incredible slow ever since you first noticed a figure following you on your way home from work. So you weren’t even sure how long had passed.

'' Y/n? ''

You almost stopped mid-step as the person called out your name. They knew you? Was it maybe someone from work who didn't have any bad intentions?

You shook your head at your own overly optimistic and naive assumptions. No person with pure intentions would chase someone down when they noticed they'd scared them.

So when rounding yet another corner in the small alleyway you'd been forced into; instead of stopping and turning around, you dove into a small gap between two food stands and crouched down, pressing a hand over your mouth.

The running footsteps came to a halt momentarily, as the owner of them must've been confused on which way you went. But not long after, they returned again - right towards the direction of your hiding spot.

You weren't sure what had caused him to happen to choose the exact way you went, perhaps it was luck for him and karma for something for you.

Laying down on the wet ground below, you crawled on the ground to get cover behind a sign standing in front. It was pretty much useless anyway, if he went down all the way and passed by the stands, just turning his head would make him look down right at you.

Feeling anxiety increasing when you heard him continue walking down it, your nails almost dug into the flesh of your cheeks.

'' Y/n? '' he shouted again.

Your blood froze in your veins. That sounded a lot closer than last time. Slowly, as if you were scared any movement at all would alert him of you, you turned your head upwards. He was right there, a meter away from your stand and he was only getting closer.

You held your breath, despite knowing it was over. Confirming your depressing thoughts, you were dragged out just a second later by your arm and a scream of terror ripped from your throat.

'' Ju...Juyeon? '' you blinked up at the attacker, struggling to make him out under the lack of light.

He moved closer, just under a light and you shuddered, shaking your head and trying to back away on the ground, the soles of your shoes digging into it.

It was Juyeon. He was a colleague who had just started working at your job. Being very shy, he rarely spoke to anyone and you hadn't talked to him except for when the introductions took place.

'' Why did you follow me? ''

He flashed a broad smile that made his eyes crinkle, quite inappropriate for the situation. Either he was terrible at reading the room and had no social skills or he had bad intentions, the latter you felt was more credible.

'' I'm in love with you. ''

'' What? ''

'' I'm in love with you, y/n. '' he sheepishly repeated, going back to looking shy again.

You were too stunned to say anything, just watching him closely to see if he'd continue.

'' I didn't really know how to talk to you so...''

'' So you followed me like a creep? ''

He nodded eagerly.

'' I want to go home now. ''

Your eyebrows furrowed and you tilted your head. '' Okay? ''

It seemed you two had completely different ideas of what that meant. You were caught off guard when your colleague suddenly pulled your leg towards him, making you get dragged on your back and then you were heaved over his shoulders.

'' What the fuck are you doing? Put me down! ''

'' I want you to live with me. ''

Juyeon started moving out of the alley, back the same way you'd come from.

You screamed, trying your best to grab ahold of the walls of the buildings. However, nails struggling to grab anything but air left you hanging limp against his back in no time.

'' Stop screaming. '' he hissed under his breath. '' I don't want to hurt you. ''

The world started moving a lot faster, just as the sounds of people's laughs echoed to where you were. You kicked and wriggled as a spark of hope was ignited inside.

Maybe if you somehow managed to fall over his shoulder, you could land in a non-injuring way and sprint with all you had with the help of the adrenaline pumping through your veins.

He stopped, but when you tried to move around and turn your head, his hold around your legs became harder, almost digging into your skin.

'' What are you doing? ''

You stilled, it was a voice you didn't recognize. Did he stop because someone saw the two of you in the dark?

'' Help me! '' you cried out, taking your chance.

The voice didn't respond again. It was deadly silent until you heard what sounded like a person running, getting closer to where you were.

Without warning, Juyeon threw you right into the wall to his side, causing you to land on top of some trashcans. You groaned out in pain, head pounding wildly as you had hit it on the way down.

Rolling on the cold ground, you craned your neck to the best of your abilities to see if you could see the person that had come to help.

It was a woman. She stood in front of your colleague, immobile with mouth opening and closing continuously as if her whole system was malfunctioning.

Juyeon had his arms out, standing a few meters away from where you were.

'' What do you want? '' he said in a low tone, taking a step towards the poor woman.

You tried to slowly make your way to standing, but it was very hard. Your muscles felt stiff and several places ached, others probably had scrapes with blood dripping out of them.

'' I-I just...'' she swallowed thickly and grimaced, looking like she was regretting the whole thing. '' I came to help. ''

'' There's no one who needs help here. ''

The woman stepped to the side so she could get a clear view of you. Juyeon was quicker. He turned around and blocked her again by approaching you and crouching down.

You looked confused. Not sure what he was trying to do, you analyzed his face. But nothing was there, he didn't have any emotions whatsoever on his face.

That's why you almost gasped in horror when you saw his hand move, instinctively your eyes darted towards it and you saw something shiny - a knife.

He twisted it in his fingers to make sure you saw it. It was hidden under his sleeve, the handle touching his palm while only a small fraction of the blade was visible.

You were about to say something and he could sense it. Without uttering a single word he said a lot by merely turning his face a bit to the side, to the direction of the woman. You knew what he was insinuating.

'' Please don't hurt her. '' you whispered, only loud enough for him to hear.

'' Then say what I want you to say. ''

You looked at each other for a few seconds in silence. Your pleas went ignored, so with a heavy sigh you said to the woman, '' I'm sorry, I don't need help. ''

She didn't look convinced. Slowly she crept closer to where you where. Your eyes called out to Juyeon again, despite knowing it was already too late.

He got on his feet immediately and turning around he managed to quickly get the knife out fully before plunging it into her in one swift movement.

You felt your stomach flip as you saw his large hand come up to muffle her screams of agony, while the other continued twisting the knife deeper into her abdomen. Blood oozed out of the wound.

When her hands stopped trying to push his away and you saw the light slowly start to go out, you had to turn on your side. It was already too much to bear, seeing a dead body would send you into a full mental breakdown.

When Juyeon was done, he hurried over to you and he smiled sympathetically, giving you a few paths on the back upon realising you were hyperventilating.

'' It'll pass. '' was all he said before turning back again, presumably getting rid of the body.

You weren't sure what he did, because you didn't want to look. Your eyes were squeezed shut while you pressed your shoulder into the rough brick-wall on the left.

'' Let's go. ''

He helped you up when you didn't move from your spot. Then you let yourself be lead all the way over to a car that was parked far away, near the tunnel you initially started getting chased from.

You had many chances to run or ask for help when people passed by. But you were almost in a trance from having witnessed a murder. So your eyes were staring down at the ground the whole way.

It was pretty safe to say that even if you did those things, there was a silent threat in the air - I'll do it to you too.

However, despite the situation he kept glancing at you, a look of worry adorning his features. The hand that was placed firmly at your waist occasionally gave you soothing rubs.

'' Please get in without a fight. '' he begged under his breath after opening the door.

You got into the backseat, although you could see he was a bit disappointed by that. Before going to the driver's seat he quickly locked the car, being paranoid you'd run anyway.

When he got in and started driving, you felt more like yourself again, and even had the energy to look out of the window; wondering what the future held for you. Would you never go out again? Never go to work again? Would he kill you, or torture you?

'' I've loved you for a very long time. ''

You shook your head, an unamused laugh escaping your lips.

'' You've never talked to me before. ''

'' That doesn't matter. ''

'' That's not love, Juyeon. '' A single tear finally escaped from your tired eyes. '' You're sick. ''

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