#my parents love ignoring my self harm

[ceolocunt]

[kindnessoverperfection]

I've found that, when interacting with others (or myself), it's useful to consider the lessons I'd want to teach a growing child.

If a child makes a mistake, I wouldn't want them to feel shame. I wouldn't yell at them, humiliate them, or in any way indicate to them that their mistake is a reflection of their worth or of who they are as a person.

Instead, I'd want them to associate the process with love and joy. If they say something that hurts someone's feelings, or otherwise ostracizes someone in some way, I'd compassionately explain to them. Ideally, they'd walk away knowing why they said / did it in the first place, how to handle similar situations in the future, and would accept the consequences (e.g. if a friend no longer wanted to hang out with them).

While the consequences may sometimes be painful, I'd do my best to instill in them that mistakes are human and natural, and that the process of learning from these mistakes is an opportunity to improve connections with others and express love.

I have a tendency towards excessive guilt. Memories in which I've said / done something ignorant or hurtful are infused with this guilt and shame- but ideally, I'd feel a sense of love and peace, and perhaps happiness, when looking back on them. Because they were moments of growth, moments I learned how to be more compassionate (even if the actual learning came years later).

So I'll put this out into the void:

When you make a mistake, that is not a reflection of you as a person. It is a moment in time, a moment which was informed by your past experiences. Humans are not static labels, or monsters in an RPG game. We are social creatures who live and learn and react and grow and experience and love. Be gentle with yourself and move forward knowing you're doing so in accordance with your values.

[star-sim]

my love (mine all mine) ☆ jake sim

☆ non-idol! jake x fem! reader ☆ summary: after years of abuse, jake is afraid of love, so why do you have to be so warm? ☆ genre: angst, hurt/comfort, fluff, implied adult! au, very domestic ☆ warning(s)? domestic violence and abuse, poor parenting, 1 mention of self harm, implied mention of suicide, kinda indulgent sorry ☆ word count: 1.5k

The earliest memory that Jake had was the sound of porcelain plates crashing against the tiled kitchen floor, and the wails of his mother. 

For a period of time, it was all that he could remember: going home to a cold house, hand-in-hand with his older brother, his heart pounding in his chest as his young mind wondered if Dad was going to hurt Mom again, or if they'd go back to loving each other tonight. 

He couldn't have been any older than nine when he experienced the wrath of his father first-hand, when he came to school in May wearing a long-sleeve shirt and long pants as if the early-summer weather wasn't rising, the scent of citrus filling the air. Sure, the bruises, and later scars (because of course, his father just had to try to stab him with a broken beer bottle), hurt, but nothing would compare to the silence that rang through the house after a screaming match. It would pierce his ears every single time, so loud that it was deafening, yet so silent that Jake could hear every single breath that his mother took as she pulled at her hair, driving blades into her skin, ignoring the quiet rumble of her child's stomach. 

He'd gone to bed hungry many times. Too many times.

But, perhaps the worst memory that Jake had was the morning after his seventeenth birthday. Jake spent his birthday outside the house, not wanting to be suffocated by the taste of salty tears and domestic violence in the air. He came back late, much later than he should have. 

Thank god, neither of his parents were home, and his brother was already off to college by then. When they weren't screaming at each other, physically assaulting their son, or neglecting him, his parents were either off to work, or hanging out with their sketchy friends, drinking all of their responsibilities (like their children) away like nothing else mattered.

Or so he thought.

Because the next thing he knew, his mother was shrieking at him, hitting him with the same hands that should have been cradling his face. And when his bastard of a father heard the commotion, it was almost like he was excited, excited to have an excuse to put his son in a chokehold. It seemed like the only time that his parents wanted to agree with each other was when they could hurt him.

As his lungs closed in on him, his choked breaths gasping for air while Jake tried to pry his father's hands off his neck, he felt light-headed, a fuzzy feeling filling his head until his body lost all its strength.

Jake swore that he would have died that night, if it weren't for the barks of the family dog.

If his perception of family, love, and marriage wasn't already warped, that early morning of his seventeenth birthday did.

He vowed to himself then and there, that he would never get married, nor would he ever start a family. 

Yet, as you held him in your arms, enveloping him with warmth as hot tears streamed down his face, Jake could feel all his resolve slipping away.

Indeed, his vow held up. It held up all throughout college and for years into his adulthood. He became known as the "single friend," the friend that was always the designated driver because he'd rather die than consume a drop of alcohol.

But then you pranced your way into his life.

You, with your beautiful face. You, with the brightest smile that he'd ever seen. You, with the softest, most gentle touch.

When you wrapped your arms around his torso, pressing tender kisses against the nape of his neck as you giggled a soft,"I love you," Jake's heart pummeled to his stomach.

It was suffocating.

His hands were clammy, so moist with sweat that he had to wipe his palms on his jeans. His chest would pound, loud enough for it to be the only sound filling his ears. His stomach twisted, a hot coil curling in his abdomen. It was nauseating.

But the worst was what he felt in his throat.

Something wicked— Something overwhelming and painful— clambered up his throat. It wrapped itself around his neck, pulling tight like the noose his mother threatened to put around her own neck. When it crawled up to his mouth, Jake nearly threw it up. He tried to swallow it down, but he gagged.

And it was already too late.

He'd already muttered the words, "I love you, too" back.

Love was terrifying. If he loved, what would happen? Would he get married, and enter a life of pure misery? 

And what if he had kids?

When Jake was angry and he looked in the mirror, he hated the way that all he saw was his father's eyes staring back at him. His mother always told him that he looked like his father anyway. 

Jake knew he wouldn't. He would never lay a finger on another person, let alone his own kin. But as days and years passed, his voice only sounded more and more like his own father's. He couldn't help the way his expressions scarily resembled his mother's, the same ones that he'd seen contort into fear, wrath, and indifference.

But here he was.

In the dark, his face was buried in your shoulder, the same ones that he'd kissed. You patted his back as he let out sobs, wet and salty tears wetting your skin.

It was another night, where you and him would hang out and flirt in your apartment, maybe do a little kissing. 

Maybe he shouldn't have laid down with you. Maybe he shouldn't have let you put your fingers in his hair, stroking it gently as he laid on your chest. Maybe he shouldn't have listened to your every word as you traced his face, muttering to him everything about him that you loved about him. He shouldn't have, he really shouldn't have. Especially when you ended it all with a kiss to his eyelids, whispering into his ear, "I can't wait to marry you one day."

Jake always did his best to contain his emotions. After all, he'd learn to do it so well because of his home life. No one had to know about his struggles.

Yet he couldn't help the wave of emotions that crashed down on his shoulders. One moment, he was smiling in your kiss, the next his face was wet.

It didn't help when you were so warm to him. You cradled his face, kissing his tears away, hands holding him like he was a piece of glass. 

"I'm scared," was all he could say.

Because that was all he felt in that moment.

Fear.

Fear, because he couldn't figure out why he was crying. 

Fear, because now all his emotions were spilling out. 

Fear, because you said you wanted to marry him.

Fear, because he, too, wanted to marry you.

You didn't let him go that night.

You stayed there with him, letting him cry into your shoulder until the sun rose. You didn't know why exactly, but the way he gripped your waist like you'd leave him was enough to tell you.

"I know, I know," you'd whispered into his ear. "I know, Baby."

All he did in response was pull you closer, and chant your name like it was a prayer, like you were his god and he was your worshiper.

Jake's favorite memory was the sound of wailing.

Not the wailing of his mother, not the wailing of his older brother, but the wailing of the child in your arms.

He could only watch with misty eyes as the small newborn clung to your chest, loud crying filling the hospital room. 

"Jakey," you said weakly, flashing him a smile. "Look what we made."

We.

That's right. 

This child was his and yours. As he held the baby, being careful not to do anything stupid, Jake stared into its crying eyes (as if his eyes weren't crying, too). 

When Jake looked at his child, he saw his eyes. He saw the same eyes that his own father gave him. He wasn't filled with fear, or anger, or guilt— he felt love. 

This child didn't have his father's angry eyes, the eyes that Jake spent his entire life believing he inherited.

No, this child had Jake's eyes, Jake's eyes that were filled with love.

You giggled softly as you watched your husband's intent and utterly fascinated gaze at your child. He snapped his head up at you.

"I love you," he blurted. He didn't say it a lot. It felt like poison on his tongue when he did, something unnatural and not meant for him. But in that moment, it felt like his entire being was made to say it. "God, I love you so much."

Yes, Jake would run. 

He'd run, and run, and run, from love. 

He'd run as far as he could, until his legs gave out.

He'd run for eternity, because he knew that one day, he'd walk to you.

[moonastrogirl]

💘 Some important tips for each Nakshatra : Never to Do Tips 💘

DISCLAIMER The author name is at the end. I do not remember where I found it unfortunately (it was in my notes app for months fr 😭) tho I know I am supposed to share my knowledge as much as I can and not be a gatekeeper so here it is . I hope it will help you (if you know the author let me know too with the name down below) 💜

Ashwini : Never loose an opportunity to help people in your life, you will meet and learn some very important techniques from a reputed and respected person.

Bharani : Do not share your secrets with anyone. Self control is must.

Krittika : Stand by Truth. Do not entertain, liars, fakers or cheaters or not even try to possess those traits.

Rohini : Don't get too much attached with anything, attachment will cause havoc.

Mrigashira : Do not get disconnected with your parents or family.

Ardra : Learn to work under distractions and pressure. Stay calm in chaos.

Punarvasu : Never disobey Dharma (purpose), always stick to your commitments, you get divine support of universe.

Pushya : Do not ignore your family or your dear one needs while handling bigger responsibilities or social cause. Take out time for them.

Ashlesha : Never misuse your power & Never Curse anyone.

Magha : Never ignore your Pitris (your ancestors). Always do charity in their names.

Purva Phalguni : Avoid getting too much indulgent in pleasures, do your duty faithfully.

Uttara Phalguni : Never break your relationship & Be Kartavya Prayan (loyal).

Hasta : Never get carried away with failure, that's ladder of success for you.

Chitra : Never doubt your potential & don't act impulsive, else you will end up hurting with self.

Swati : Do not poke powerful authorities. Try to stay away from leg pulling.

Vishaka : Never leave the Marg of Bhakti (total faith and devotion) & Keep remembering Bhagwan (the Most High/God).

Anuradha: Never get distracted with too much darkness, sooner or later it's worth experiencing.

Jyeshta : Never misuse your authorities & power, one single mistake can ruin everything.

Mula : Don't get panic, when burdened with lots of negativity, that's the process of bringing clarity, like storm before calm.

Purva Ashadha : Not every war is to win, some are supposed to lift you up. In both victory or defeat you gonna be the same.

Uttara Ashadha : Following Dharma (career/purpose) is right but having a superiority complex can harm you in longer run.

Shravana : Tied up with lots of responsibilities & helplessness, we are born to live or die for a divine purpose, just give your best.

Dhanishta : Never boast or avoid beating the drum of success before its completion.

Shatabhisha : Never sell your soul for gains and profit. Things will turn negative for you.

Purva Bhadrapada : Never rush into conclusion cause what looks on the surface might not be real, try to see deep within. There lies solution.

Uttara Bhadrapada : Simplicity beautifies you, wear it and own it.

Revati : You are the Messenger of God & Bhakt (faith/worship/love). Showing path to directionless people is your real gem. Never sell superstition or blind faiths.

Author :

Mann ki Baat Trishna

Note from the author : Above points are just an observation with my best of understanding.

[weasleyreidstyles]

Serendipity Headcannons; Mattheo Riddle

series masterlist

A glimpse into our main boy's life leading up to sixth year (where Serendipity kicks off) – eventually going to do them for each character (the ones who are a constant in the series), except meadow since that's more reader-centric but let me know who i should do next (this is me putting off writing chapter 17 because its making me want to rip out my hair)

It actually ended up being so long (i got carried away) that i'll have to do a separate post for the nsfw😏 hcs that i also wrote down - if that's something that people want to see of course

warning(s): cannonical violence, mentions of parental death, menions of torture and abuse (tried to make this as mild as possible), allusions to self harm (literally one bullet point), mentions of blood supremacy/cannonical pureblood madness, mentions of alcohol consumption/drug use, mentions of being sick (sorry fellow emetaphobes), allusions to an ED

Obviously he's Voldemort's son (its a known fact; when his name was called shortly after Harry's during the Sorting Ceremony, people immediately began to fear him for his last name – avoided him in corridors and older students were horrible to him)

His mother died when he was born, so he never got to meet her. But she had loved Tom Riddle with all her heart, despite knowing what kind of person he was (I like the tom hughes fancast for an older version of him – TikTok editors have me influenced)

When he failed to kill baby Harry, Theodore Nott's mum took it upon herself to care for Mattheo (who was only several months older than Harry at the time) – she was close friends with Matt's mum

They may not be related by blood, but Matt considers Theo to be his brother as well as his best friend

Mattheo's childhood (up until he was eight) was relatively acquiescent, but obviously being the heir to the Dark Lord comes with its own traumas – he was plagued with nightmares he swears were real conversations with his father

When Theo's mum died, his father wasn't the nicest to either of the boys; they both grew to resent him – the man either ignored them, shouted at them or beat them senselessly (to build character)

They had a Governess in the years after Theo's mum died, so that they'd be well ahead of their peers once they got to Hogwarts - also a way to keep them out of Theo Nott Senior's way

During his sorting, the hat immediately placed him in Slytherin, but it wasn't as quick to choose, like it was with Draco or Blaise.

Harry had unconsciously made him public enemy number one when he found out who he was (I mean his dad did kill Harry's parents so) as well as Draco and co

Mattheo doesn't believe in the blood supremacy that is spouted around pureblood families – has never used 'mudblood' to insult anyone (draco take notes fr) – but thats only due to theo's mother and the way she raised her boys – also it would be so hypocritical because he's a halfblood (i think, idk the twisted lore of purebloods too deeply)

Professor Quirrell took a particular interest towards Mattheo (his dad was literally playing house on the back of the guys head)

He found out that Quirrell was Voldemort (?) pretty quickly when the Dark Mark was burned onto his left forearm – something that continuously happened in his nightmares so he thought he was in one when it happened

Partly why he didn't say anything – he was also weary that no one would believe him

He tried everything to get it off his skin – burning, scratching, spelling, even carving it out, but nothing worked. The Dark Mark was engraved onto his arm like it had buried itself within the very cell structure of his skin

He didn't gain as much attention as Harry did in first year. He went practically under the rader after the first couple of months, only interacting with his small group of friends (Theo, Draco, Blaise, Enzo and Pansy) and competing for the top academic spot in class – when Theo's father found out that both boys were being beaten for first place by a muggleborn (go Hermione!), he used the cruciatus curse on both of them - moreso on Theo :(

Second year was a completely different story however

When the Chamber of Secrets opened, people whispered that he could be the heir of Slytherin (because his father is literally Voldemort so technically they weren't wrong) and he didn't go as unnoticed as before

He developed a thick skin towards the insults and returned them with steely looks that sent people scurrying the other way

He began physically fighting some people when his restraint snapped at times though – he didn't have a way to relieve the tension from all the agression at this point

The only people who spoke to him with no fear were his friends

When the first student was petrified, he was brought into Dumbledore's office for questioning

During the dueling session, he watched in awe as Harry spoke to the snake but didn't dare say a word

He was the only one in his group that didn't bad mouth Harry at this time or call him the 'heir of Slytherin'

He's actually really smart (not at Ancient Runes though lol) and is among one of Professor Flitwick's favourite students

When Harry and Ron posed as Crabbe and Goyle you (Meadow) had posed as Pansy and he had thought it was strange to see her with the two of them, but she had a small crush on Draco in first and second year so he brushed it off as her trying to impress his friend

But he knew it wasn't her when Draco had mentioned Hermione (calling her a mudblood) and 'Pansy' had gone deathly still

He's been skilled at Occlimency for as long as he can remember, as has Theo. But Mattheo has a certain affinity (he calls it a curse) for hearing people thoughts without even uttering the spell – also why he's so good at preventing people like Dumbledore from using it on him

Wasn't aware of his father's diary being used to lure Harry to the Chamber of Secrets, but at one point he heard the whispers in the pipes and vehemently ignored it until it eventually stopped (big mistake, cus voldy holds grudges very well)

Once Ginny was rescued from the Chamber, he felt incredibly guilty even though he literally had no control of the situation – sent her an 'anonymous' gift basket as an apology (he knew it would never make up for what happened to her, but he hoped it would at least make her smile) – it did, she thought it was a gift from dumbledore though

One of the only times he was even a little kind to the Golden Trio and their friends

The summer after second year was hellish for him and Theo

The basilisk was obviously meant to kill Harry so Theo Nott Senior was angry that his master's big plan had failed (2 years running🤝)

Third year was more mild than the last (thank God, honestly)

Mattheo had made it onto the quidditch team now that half of them had left the year before

He's a beater and proud of it – lets out all that pent up agression on the field, which makes him one of the best in his house (dare i say whole school🤭)

Quidditch became his whole personality basically (he's a teenage boy duh – it's like the football obsessed idiots in the pub levels) and he came to love the attention it brought him – he was starting to be noticed by girls outside Slytherin and making enemies with the rival players

He decided then that he wanted to play quidditch professionally in the future – he would not be caught dead behind a desk in the Ministry (they probably wouldn't hire hom anyway, simply because he's a Riddle)

Because he was on the team, he was invited to more parties which he also enjoyed – the man can drink!

But he wasn't one to jump around like a madman like some people he saw at the parties. He and his friends (those on the team – Theo, Blaise and Draco) would sit around the sofas and play drinking games with others who were sat down – including you and some of your housemates at times – but never the Gryffindors

Sirius Black was on the loose which took the pressure of being Tom Riddle's son off his shoulders somewhat – no one actually dared to fuck with Mattheo now that he was a beater either

Buckbeak took a liking to him, surprisingly, as did the thestrals that only he, Theo and so few others could see

The dementors affected him as much as they affected Harry – he could hear his own mother's cries

During the boggart lesson, he was apprehensive of what he would see – would he see what he sees in his most horrifying nightmares? Or would it be something as trivial as a grindilow or something?

Safe to say he was glad that Professor Lupin stopped the lesson after Harry's turned into the dementor

Speaking of dementors, one of the only spells he cannot cast is the Patronus Charm – even his happiest memories are not strong enough to envoke the magic

People thought he helped Sirius into the castle at one point (absurd, i know)

He and Harry got into some arguments at times – Mattheo liked to provoke him for the fun of it, mostly so that competition on the quidditch field was filled with extra tension, but also because Harry and Ron are dickheads who like to talk shit about him and his friends (hypocrites because the Slytherins literally do the same thing lol)

This is the point where you're on his radar a bit more frequently – you, Ron and Hermione went to Hogsmeade a lot and were frequently in the same places as Mattheo and his friends

He does not like you at all, partly for the fact that you follow Harry and Dumbledore so blindly but also – you are one of the reasons he and theo get so much stick at home, along with hermione being top of the class, you are as well so he grows to resent you a little

He's always there when you're yelling at anyone who says something against your friends (usually Crabbe or Goyle – our mortal enemies fr)

When Sirius escaped the dementors people genuinely thought he helped (again, absurd i know)

Moving onto fourth year...he went to the Quidditch World Cup with Theo and Nott Senior disappeared after the match ended and festivities began

We all know what happened but when the Dark Mark appeared in the sky, Theo, Draco and Mattheo all looked at it in absolute horror, having heard the harrowing stories first hand from their families

Mattheo had a panic attack at the thought of his father returning – after the run in with him in first year, he's been certain that Voldemort isn't really dead, and this confirms it for him (because why the fuck would his father's mark appear out of nowhere?)

Because of that, the school year is off to a great start

He gets into fights left, right and centre – especially since quidditch has been cancelled in favour of hosting the Triwizard Tournament (i've obviously aged up the characters but lets pretend the age limit still exists in some capacity)

The Durmstrang students practically worshipped the ground he walked on – which was ego boosting to start with, but Mattheo quickly grew irritated by their constant infatuation with him – especially Karkaroff who always compared him to the great Tom Riddle or the 'Dark Lord' interchangeably

Whenever Professor Moody stared at him for too long, he got an odd sensation on his left forearm, where the mark sits, like spiders were scurrying and crawling around – he decides after the very first DADA lesson (unforgivable curses) that he did not like this professor.

There was just something off about him, but Mattheo couldn't quite figure out what – foolishly tried Occlimency but obviously it didn't work on the most infamous auror

Wasn't even surprised when Harry's name came out of the Goblet – he is coined 'Saint Potter' by the friendgroup (started of course by Draco)

He and Theo snuck out to the forbidden forest to see the dragons up close before the first task – almost got caught by Charlie Weasley, had Hagrid and Harry not showed up with Madame Maxine mere moments before he could spot them

He took a random girl from Beauxbatons to the Yule Ball because he did not want to deal with the hassle of Hogwarts gossip – but everyone gossiped about it anyway (busybodies)

Rumours went around about the two of them (you know like how Snape caught two people in the carriage🤭)

At this point, you were just his arch nemesis' best friend so you were not fully on his radar past sneering comments and jibes, but a small part of him can admit that you looked beautiful in your glittering dress (think Feyre starfall dress vibes)

The rest of the year went by uneventfully – he got on with his school work and remained one of the top of class except in Ancient Runes which theo tried to tutor him in....unsuccessfully

In the months leading up to the third task, Mattheo noticed Moody's skittish behaviour (also Karkaroff and weirdly...Snape) especially after Crouch was found murdered in the Forbidden Forest after the second task

On the day of the first task, he had the worst gut feeling he's ever felt – bigger than the day he found out that his surrogate mother had died

Sitting in the stands with his friends, near the back of the stadium, his arm begins to burn so painfully that he has to fight physically crying out at the crippling pain (Voldemort just got resurrected as a noseless alien)

Excuses himself to his friends' utter confusion and concern – Theo stops Pansy from running after him, letting him have space, somehow just knowing what Matt's sudden departure meant (he saw Mattheo cradle his left arm while he walked away)

Just before Mattheo walks through the exit, Harry apparates back with the trophy (portkey) and Cedric's dead body beneath him screaming that "Voldemort's back!"

He couldn't hold back the contents of his stomach at the statement because he knew it was true. He just knew it deep in his bones.

He had to hide behind the bleachers of the quidditch pitch while everyone was stampeding to leave, where he just sobbed and sobbed because he knew then what his future would be.

Theo found him an hour later and together they mourned for the future Mattheo had desperately always wanted

That summer was the worst he's ever experienced to date.

He met this snake-like version of his father, his only other memories being of a handsome man (Tom Hughes vibes) not whatever this thing was.

His father thanked Theo Nott Senior personally for taking such good care of his heir – this was such an ego boost for that horrid man

Mattheo was tortured into the perfect soldier that summer – tasked with training other Slytherins/purebloods into the regime

Its not very discernable but if his hands are still for long enough, they begin to shake unconsciously due to just how many times Voldemort used the cruciatus curse on him

His nightmares had become a reality that summer – he no longer slept, and only ate when Draco had to force him to

There was one silver lining at least

No one believed Harry Potter.

So Voldemort's army grew exponentially in secret, as did their knowledge of certain prophecies

We know that Professor Trelawney had the vision but Voldemort has a seer of his own – who made him aware of the order being in possession of a siphon but not able to say who it is (its meadow of course🤪🤪🤪)

His fifth year marked the start of the war, even if the otherside didn't know it just yet

At school, Harry started many explosive arguments with him, that he admittedly fed into a little bit out of pure amusement

His stoic facade was ever present this year. Not an expression painted his handsome face in the public eye. Rarely did anyone catch a glimmer of joy in those onyx eyes.

It was around this time, when he discovered that Harry was being taught Occlimency that you were doing some studying of your own

He heard the soft whisper of your thoughts in his head – a pleasant sound – mumbling little bits and pieces about the art, as if you were revising them over and over like a broken record

He knew you were Theo's patrol partner because Theo would not stop complaining about having to deal with one of Saint Potter's loyal followers (the two of you did not speak for 5 whole patrol sessions – lets say between September and November)

Thats when the idea sprang

Admittedly it started out as a way to satisfy his curiosity

He wanted to know why you were learning Occlimency and actually doing surprisingly well, despite not having someone to actively practice it on/with you, while Potter was not taking it seriously at all

So he asked Theo to try and befriend you – when asked why, he explained that he was curious and wanted to know if he hunch he had was right – his gut feelings are almost never wrong

Theo begins his task of slowly befriending you and relaying anything remotely important to Mattheo – no progress at first, until the two of you happen to bond over your hatred for the new DADA professor

He joins the Inquisitorial Squad because Theo's father wanted him to, and by extension said that the Dark Lord wanted his son to set an example too (lets not forget, in his prime Tom was literally the smartest in the school – was definitely head boy as well as an academic weapon)

This is how he finds out what Umbridge's detentions truly entailed

Speaking of Umbridge (she deserves her own tw actually), she had shown particular favouritism towards Mattheo and his friends, to anyone who was against Harry, really – never gave them detentions and let them off easily, even defended Mattheo's honour against Harry's 'heinous' accusations

But back to the detentions – both he and Theo found out about the blood quill around the same time

He was waiting for Theo to finish patrols so they could go smoke in the Astronomy Tower, when he overheard Umbridge talking to the two of you

Well actually she was talking to you – because apparently it was now against the rules for prefects to walk around past curfew (even though thats their literal role?) and she gave you a detention for it

When you asked why in Merlin's name Theo wasn't being treated the same, she said it's because he's on the Inquisitorial Squad and was therefore exempt from her detentions

You had detention the next day and did not show up to your next few patrols, but Mattheo saw the hints of a glamour covering your non-dominant hand (he would know because he's had a glamour over his scarred forearm for years)

Theo told him that you refused to admit that something was wrong - you hadn't even told your friends about whatever was bothering you

They found out by chance – a first year that had gotten lost was cradling their hand and the boys saw the words of the boy's own scrawl etched harshly into the flesh of his hand

When Matt was observing you in the library one day (happenstance, he's not a stalker lol), he was deducing how far along you were with Occlimency but found that you winced and held your head when he actively tried to enter your mind – not good for how long you'd been teaching yourself the art

So he gets Theo to talk to you mentally and the first time it happens is actually comical – you drop the contents of your potions incredients onto the floor out of shock before you whack Theo across the head with your hardbacked potions textbook

That's really how the two of you became friends, your friendship with Pansy following soon after

Now you're slowly building up the tolerance for Occlimency with a little help from a friend

Leading up to Christmas, the mark burns wickedly against his skin at all hours of the day

Then Arthur Weasley is attacked and Mattheo is surprised that no Weasley has come to deck him in the face for simply being Voldemort's son

Obviously no one does because everyone (barring you and Hermione) have been swept away to 12 Grimmauld Place

After Christmas he does get decked – George sends a bludger his way that most definitely had the power to break his entire arm (and definitely a few ribs); after the abysmal Christmas break he's had, he's almost tempted to let it happen – but his beater instincts kick in and he's pelting the bludger and all its momentous energy towards one of Gryffindor's chasers instead

His Dark Mark burns every time his father fails to retrieve his and Harry's prophecy

He begins to suspect that you are the siphoner when you perform wandless magic like its a second nature during breakfast one morning (you're using your magic to flip through the pages of your book, while you leisurely sip coffee, probably awaiting Granger's arrival)

His suspicions are more than confirmed when your magic seems to literally pulse like your pulling more of it from the air – it's almost indiscernible, but if he paid attention, he could see the symphonic ripple of your magic and the Great Hall's magic mingling in the air (and he knows Dumbledore can see it too)

He explains this to Theo without telling him so much that'll get him involved with what knowing this will mean for his brother

He passes all his O.W.Ls with a plethora Outstanding and Exceeds Expectations grades, except for Ancient Runes where he gets a mere Acceptable (which somehow still allows him to retake the class in his N.E.W.Ts options, funnily enough)

What's not funny is Voldemort's reaction to this anomaly of a result :(

Lets rewind to june 18th (aka battle of department of mysteries; RIP Sirius Black you icon, you legend)

The DA have just been busted (like two weeks/a week prior to the date above) and you're all in detention writing out the line "I must not disobey the Ministry" over and over again – to the point where it has become a permanent scar that you see everyday

Exams are happening and Harry has just been delivered a vision by Voldemort (he just passed out in a DADA exam🫣)

Saint Potter and his band of followers try to break into Umbrige's office and fail exponentially

The Inquisitorial Squad catch you all in the act of guarding the corridor outside her office while Harry, Ron and Hermione try and contact Sirius

You're all trapped in the office and everyone (including the Inquisitorial Squad) is shocked when she goes to cast the cruciatus on Potter – internally Matt is cringing and fighting the instinctive flinch

"You can't do that! It's illegal!" Your defence of harry is ignored as Umbridge puts Fudge picture face down – Matt swears your eyes burn a violent indigo, but it's gone in a blink

Hermione and Harry end up taking her to where 'Dumbledore's secret weapon' is and you lot are now all stuck with the Inquisitorial Squad

Theo actually only holds you loosely, and he's the same with Ginny – not forcefully holding her, but also not allowing her to break free at the same time

Crabbe and Goyle take Ron's bate and eat the Puking Pastilles from the Weasley twins' personal collection and you all escape

Then the battle eventually takes place and everyone knows that Voldemort truly has returned

Now onto the current timeline of Serendipity!!

Mattheo decides over summer that he wants to help the otherside desperately

Especially because Draco is now a Death Eater

And Enzo and Theo are set to become Death Eaters the following Christmas – punishment for what happened during the battle in June

Proposes the idea that he teach you Occlimency in exchange for you helping them get out – the group agrees and Theo and Pansy set out to persude you to help

Roll on the Serendipity plot where he slowly begins to actually care about you (scary feelings; unknown territory)

He's never felt this strongly about someone before, not in the way he feels about you

At first he enjoyed how infuriated you became with him; he also despised how many questions you would ask (but that was your nature and he grew accustomed to it)

You're the only one whose ever called him Théo, after the death of Theo's mother, the name was as good as dead to him, until you started calling him it – he never wanted you to stop

The feelings you invoke in him are what finally allow him to produce a full patronus – when the majestic form of a Hippogriff bursts from the tip of his wand, swirling and spiralling at the thought of you, he let out a genuine laugh

He's so soft for you – his persona changes in the blink of an eye at times – from cruel and brooding to gentle and compassionate

His friends have never seen him happier – admittedly were surprised to learn of your relationship, but when they watched the way the two of you interacted after you'd become a pariah to your old friends, they understood.

Mattheo is so protective of all his friends, and somehow he's even more protective of you – he had wanted to incinerate Harry and Ron on the spot for how they'd made you feel, but knew you would never forgive him for it, despite how badly they'd hurt you

He'd burn the world down if it meant you'd be safe, especially because you had the one power that his father desired to have in his ever growing arsenal

Mattheo always has to be touching you in some way (he's a physical touch kind of guy), whether that be a hand on your thigh when you're seated; an arm wrapped around you as you walk; interlocking pinkies, etc. He just loves feeling you near him.

You're such a typical Slytherin/Ravenclaw couple – your intellect amazing him all the time, and he's no longer miffed that you always beat him for a spot at the top in class – his ambitions and adamant loyalty are something that you admire dearly, and hold close to your heart

You both know without having to voice it that your love is unconditional and eternal. Its a love as rare as your magic.

~∞~

taglist:

(striked out users are ones that i couldn't tag)

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@babeylover @thejadeazalea @undercover-smutlover @adhxmoony

@dreamingofonceuponatime @thepassionatereader @urmomsgayforme5 @aphroditeisamilf

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@nromanovaswife @leeknows-wife @dracygf @wildlyobserving @ravenclawprincess33 @melllinaa @vellicora @lantsovheiress @emiliahoward @stunkbiggu @vcosette

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@rachmmb @x-kermit-x @sun-fiower-seed @cas-planet @certaindreampost

@weirdowithnobeardo @mikalovesicecream @benwadsworthsgf

@rainy-darling @faeriepigeons

@lovely-blackinnon @hiireadstuff

@gimalo135 @elsafromcabinsix @moonlightreader649 @blueshome

@nopedefe @spencerreidsthings

@navs-bhat @agent-tempest

@magimtz23 @y0urm0m12

@sbrn0905 @leona-hawthorne

@whatsupb18

[wysteria-bloom]

Hazbin Hotel but the reader is an overlord that's like Miss Argentina

Genre : Songfic

Warnings : Val. Allusions to suicide. Self harm.

A/n : yeah bro idek I thought this was a cool idea if this post flops I don't give a shit I love miss argentina and her song is the best out of the whole Beetlejuice soundtrack and I will fucking die on that hill. This is Alastor x reader focused btw.

"I was hot!" The woman exclaimed, leaning against the bar stool seductively, grinning toothily at Charlie," Went to parties a lot, yknow?" She raised her eyebrows suggestively, mimicking snorting cocaine across her forearm.

Charlie smiled nervously at the woman as she watched her spin away from the bar towards Husker gracefully," I was driving lamborghinis sippin' super dry martinis in the tiniest bikinis on a yacht," Her smile dropped and she pretended to be a damsel in distress, leaning backwards as Husk caught her in his arms with a bored expression," but I was depressed~..."

She pet Husk on the cheek good-naturedly and spun out of his arms," Oh so completely obsessed... an unhappy beauty queen who dreamed to be Miss Argentina," She gave Charlie a wink, flipping her hair before she gave her a sincere look," I had such low self-esteem, I was a mess!"

Charlie frowned in sympathy before she was pulled into a side hug very suddenly, face pressed against... a generously gifted... cleavage. Her cheeks exploded a bright colour of red and she could've sworn she heard Vaggie growl.

"So I gave it all up for the netherworld, I've been here forever, girl." She gave Charlie a wink and a ruffle of her hair," If I was more clever, girl - I would've stuck it out. Knowing what life's about."

She spun Charlie around, putting on a dramatic performance as she clutched a hand to her chest," Pain and joy and suffering," She wiped away a fake tear," Failing but recovering. I'll tell you another thing," She gestured to Charlie's ragtag group of sinners who were watching the performance with interest and amusement," Everyone here is alone!" Their faces dropped.

She cupped Charlie's face gently, grinning wryly," so if you are breathing, go home!"

She took Charlie's hands in her own, swaying her hips from side to side, engaging in a tango," If I knew then, what I know now~!" She twirled Charlie around with a joyous laugh, the princess couldn't help but laugh along with her, the woman's energy completely infectious," I would have looked within and let love in somehow~!"

She pulled Charlie back towards her, her movements sharp and jumpy," If I only knew, the truth back then," she pressed a kiss to Charlie's hand and let go, showing her wrists to Charlie with a cheeky little smile on her lips, two blatant scars across her wrists indicated to Charlie what exactly happened to (name)," I wouldn't have had my 'little accident'~"

She swayed around, ignoring the pitying look the princess sent her way," Don't be blind," She stopped in front of the painting of Charlie and her parents, gesturing to it with a disapproving frown on her painted lips," You left your whole life behind!" She then counted with her fingers as she began to list," see a shrink, call a priest, ask the recently deceased!" She pointed at Vaggie who ruffled at her uncomfortably.

She then began to push Charlie gently towards the front door of the hotel, giving Alastor an inviting grin," Death is final and you cannot press rewind~!" She cheered out with a wide grin to her voice.

The Radio Demon simply closed his eyes with a simple little smile on his lips, striding over to the woman and holding his arm out to her in a gentlemanly fashion, which made her laugh and link her arm with his.

As they walked around the town, demons chimed in to (name)'s song, following her with stars in their eyes and wide grins.

"Don't jump when the light is red!"

"Toasters should be used for bread."

"Never smoke cigars in bed..."

"Nietzsche was right, y'know, to live is to suffer, bro!"

"Don't cheat on the one you wed!!"

"Never whip a thoroughbred."

"Angry pygmys shrunk his head!"

(name) gave Charlie a gentle pat to the head with a little frown on her lips as the demons harmonised with her," Why did it take death to see that happiness was up to me?"

The woman broke from Alastor and Charlie, arms gestured out widely as if she was offering a hug to the whole of hell. She wish she could.

"If I knew then, what I know nowww~!" She spun around in a circle as demons danced around her with wide grins stretched across their faces, her energy affecting them as well," I would've laughed and danced and lanced every sacred cow!"

She turned to Alastor and Charlie, bright eyes shining at them as she waved her hands at them to follow along with her and let loose," I thought I knew, but I was wrong~!"

Alastor's grin stretched as he placed a hand on Charlie's shoulder, gesturing a hand to (name) as the two of them sang to her," 'cause life is short, but death is super long!"

Suddenly, a demon with a bomb-shaped head poked his head around (name), a mischievous little grin on his face," I exploded!" And his head did just that. But instead of brains, confetti flew around the whole of street.

It looked like a festival was happening... and with (name) it might as well have been a festival.

Demon danced and frolicked around as they cheered and chirped out, dancing in the square like no tomorrow.

Angel Dust grinned at Husk toothily and offered the cat a hand to dance which he scoffed and rolled his eyes at but took his hand anyways, a grin ghosting onto his lips.

Sir Pentious was crouched down a little as he took Niffty's little hands into his and they flailed their arms happily in an uncoordinated dance. His eggs marching around them with stupid smiles.

Vaggie offered a hand to Charlie with a shy little smile on her lips. The princess' previous grievances were forgotten as she let the happiest smile spread across her lips, pulling Vaggie close to her to begin dancing.

Alastor made his way into the middle as (name) held her hand out to him. His large claws wrapped around hers, one of his hands settled on her waist as he sang along with her.

"If I knew then, what I know now~! " She gave him a bright smile, the two of them dancing in complete sync. (name) didn't know Alastor could tango so well, that was for sure," I would've crossed every line and drank all the wine before my final bow!" At this line, Alastor dipped her, making her squeal in delight.

"If I knew, the things that now I know~!" The two of them focused on eachother's feet as they tapped and moved along to the music sharply, the demons all gaming over singing from here.

"I would ride the highs and cherish the lows! Going, it's a quick trick 'round the rodeo!"

(Name)'s arm wrapped around Alastor's neck as he lifted her up bridal style, spinning her around joyously. The woman had an arm thrown out as she sang her heart out," So before they lower the curtain, be certain to enjoy the show! That's what I knoooow~!"

He let her down as she danced herself and then gave Charlie a supportive smile," life is short but death is long," she took her hand and trailed her through the crowd to the middle of the square, standing on the stairways of the hotel," here, one minute then it's gone."

Charlie joined in the song happily," thought I knew but I was wrong," the two then harmonised," If only I knew what I know now~!!"

- 👠 -

Vox's eye twitched as he watched the screen, just about ready to explode. Vox had it frozen on the frame of (name) in Alastor's arms as they sang together with knowing smiles on their lips.

Val hummed, tapping the screen with a claw," her tits are huge, huh?"

That made the TV-man snap as he glitched out from pure adultered rage, throwing his "Fuck Alastor" mug at Val.

[ivestas]

Thank you for writing my request, I loved it!! I have another idea but it's a deeper subject so I understand not everyone is comfortable with writing about it. Could you write about a younger reader and the team see self harm wounds and scars while they were injured or while they were changing? (Something along those lines) and what they would do/ react? Xx

what is most precious to you?

Summary: The 141 discover a part of you that you’d wanted to bury.

Tags: TW s/elf harm scars + sui/cide and talk of it, please read carefully/don't read if this topic triggers you, platonic!141 x medic!fem!reader, reader implied to be mentally ill, younger!reader, descriptions of blood and injury, canon typical violence, soap + ghost focused, unedited

Word count: 1.5k

Notes: im glad u enjoyed the previous req anon! i hope I'm able to do this req justice too 🫡

You’d been a part of the 141 long enough for the others to know and trust you.

An esteemed medic that knew medicine and all things fixing like the back of her hand, despite your age—it was a natural skill, it seemed. Your hands were always so damn fast with a gauze—hell, even a dirty rag you’d make use of in an instant. 

You were just good. Reliable. Consistent. Seemingly just a normal young lady whose only eccentricity was the job she chose to be: a medic for a merc group. 

Soap often liked to joke about that normalcy that clung onto you. 

“Bet when you’re on leave you work a 9 to 5 and sleep right at 8. I’m right, aren’t I?”

You snorted. “No, I’d sleep at 9.” 

“Ohhhhh, daring! Don’t be too crazy! Ya might just lose a leg!” 

Even Ghost would sometimes jump in, adding his own joke occasionally. 

“Should I get you a planner for your birthday? A nice, minimalist one with neutral stickers to match.”

You’d scoff and jab back, whether it be at Ghost’s mask or Soap’s current and past hair-styles.

But they never gave you a tough time about it—they were glad that one of them was able to blend back to civvy life with ease. 

Price even said it was his favorite trait—”sometimes, you need the practicality and mindset of a normal lady to get shit done.”

“Thanks?” 

The guys all had a similar image of what your childhood was like: middle-class, parents all stiff-like and old-timey, your favorite hobbies probably were things like football or reading, things like that. 

However, that image shattered during a post-mission intermission. 

Things went wrong, completely askew—the enemies were clearly prepared for the attack, because landmines were everywhere and the area was crawling with hostiles.

It was a resounding loss—many casualties, wounded, etc. 

You could hardly keep up, trying to patch up as many as possible, even when the sky rained of bullets and the air tasted thickly of gunpowder and death. It was like a place between purgatory and hell, a constant flow of shouts, screams, explosions.

It was too late for you to noticed a bullet grazed your arm; it was deep enough to be visible, but luckily it wasn’t aimed low enough for it to shoot into your arm. 

You had ignored the wound—in your mind, it only made sense to focus on the soldiers who were fighting for their lives and riddled with bullet wounds. 

So you just did that: focus on them. 

But, due to the constant movement and strain, the graze only worsened, almost tearing. The adrenaline numbed the pain, but you knew it was gonna hurt like a bitch soon enough. 

Luckily though, Ghost shouted in your ear through the comms. 

“Bravo-1, retreat!—fuckin’ hell—everyone, retreat!”  

You did just that—retreat. 

Huffing and puffing, you were quick to run to the distant chopper you recognized as the 141′s. A haze of sand was the only saving grace as it covered you from the enemies direct line of sight.

Soap pulled you into the helicopter with a quick grab of your wrist, completely unaware of the graze that arm sustained. You let out a sharp hiss of pain, feeling the skin tear just a little more. 

The entrance of the helicopter shut, and with both of you heaving, the plane finally shot back into the air, rocking back and forth the slightest bit. The sound of bullets slowly melted away into harsh whirring and mechanical buzz. 

You took a moment to collect yourself, inhaling sharply before you got up, arm still bleeding. 

But, strangely, you felt it drip along your arm and into your hand, running along your finger—ah, it should’ve been obvious, the sleeve of your wounded arm had completely torn. 

You lifted the arm, examining the wound. 

Scars of varying sizes, textures, and freshness—some having strange bubbly dots, others consisting of messy lines. Some of the fresher scars had torn a little, causing thin lines or red to rise. 

Your blood ran cold. You glance up, hoping—praying—that Soap didn’t see, or even understand the implications. 

But you could see he was staring, the cogs in his mind slowly snapping together. 

You put your arm away to your side, hiding it from his view. 

“Lass—“

“I need a medkit. We have one on the plane?” 

You loathed the look of sadness, of pity that shone in his eyes, pulled at the muscles of his face. 

Don’t. Stop.

I’m not weak. Don’t—I’m not weak! 

A chorus of words, feelings, of palpable dark was what filled your mind now. Insecurity, self-hatred, all of it—you’d been working on it, trying to regulate, to reason with the miasma that had taken ahold of your consciousness.

But, fuck, you’ve revealed it to Soap of all people—he felt bad, didn’t he? Disgusted? Worried? He was gonna tell Price, wasn’t he? That your unfit for the 141, that—

A hand rested on the top of your shoulder.

“Can I patch you up?” Soap asked softly. 

You grit your teeth. Moving away from his hand, you shook your head, glaring at the floor. A small splatter of blood was there. “I can fix it myself.” 

You expected—wanted—him to berate you. 

But he didn’t. He was kind. 

“Sure, kid. I’ll just get ya the med kit—stay put.” 

Another wave of shame rocked you. You sat on one of the small seats connected to the walls of the heli, rubbing away the small bits of dried blood. 

Consumed by your thoughts, you didn’t hear Soap murmuring to Ghost. 

“The kid—she, ah...” He ran a finger along his wrist. “Catch my drift?” 

“Cutting herself?” Ghost said bluntly. 

“Sometimes I wish you had a little more tact, L.T.” 

Ghost ignored him. “They fresh or old?”

“Both,” he sighed, grabbing a med kit from one of the plane’s various compartments. “What’re we supposed to do? Don’t wanna scare off the kid, but don’t wanna leave her on her own devices hacking away at ‘erself!” 

Ghost grabbed the kit from his hands. “I’ll handle this. You sit down—go near the Captain. Try to leave us some privacy.” 

Hesitantly, Soap nodded. “Work your magic, sir.” 

Ghost made his way to the other end of the helicopter where you were. You were hunched over your wound, a deep frown on your face. It’s uncharacteristic, but he knew it was a part of yourself you’d prefer to be shrouded in dark. Suffering wasn’t a nice look, was it?

But it was human. Denying your own right to feel it—it made Ghost frown too.

He sat beside you, kit in his hand. You had finally looked up then, alarmed. 

“Gimme your arm, kid.” 

You opened your mouth.

“Not leavin’ till I patch your arm up, so don’t even try.” 

Shamefully, you lifted your arm slowly. 

He took it with gentle but firm hands, a thumb running along a faint scar. 

Ghost opened the kit haphazardly with another hand. 

“When I was your age—maybe a little younger—couldn’t find much meaning in everything.”

He lifted his hand from your arm and grabbed alcohol and a small cotton rag. Dampening the rag with alcohol, he drew it to your arm, rubbing away the excess blood and cleaning the wounds. You didn’t make any noise, only breathing raggedly. 

“The suffering was pointless, in my eyes; thought, ‘this isn’t bloody fair’. Born in a shitty house with a shitter father, food hardly ever on the table, my mind deteriorating, and the world cast in deep gray.”

You nodded. 

Ghost grabbed a bandage gauze, unravelling it and wrapping it gently around the graze and the scars. It was calming, watching him work away, even if the wrapping was a little clumsy. 

“The harsh reality came a little while later, and it’s that people like me—us—we gotta work hard for shit to change. That this weight forced upon us, it’s only we that can shed it off. It’s still not fair—frankly, suicide is easier. Thought of doing it for the longest time... But...” 

He shook his head. “In my eyes, it’s a coward’s way out. We should never die by our own hands—there’s always something to live for.”

“What are you living for?” 

“Mmmm.... For tomorrow’s pint.” 

You laughed. 

He grabbed a safety pin and pinned the end of the gauze. “...now, I know it’s ‘silly’ to say, but you know we’re here for you?—the 141′s got your back, kid—how about this, let’s make a deal.”

“Yeah?” 

“You ever have the urge to cut yer arm, you come straight to me, or the others. They’ll listen. They care.”

They care.  

It’s weird, but hearing the words said out loud, it hit you. 

They really care. 

You took in a shaky breath. “Thank... you.” 

“It’s no problem at all, kid. Stay strong.”

AO3

Masterlist

Requests are open

[specialagentlokitty]

Hannibal x teen!reader - i would notice

Hi 👋, i absolutely loved your Hannibal lecter fic so I was wondering if you could do a Hannibal × teen reader with angst or where he maybe saves them from someone or from themselves? If not that's totally fine. - Anon💜

TW: mentions of self harm and suicidal thoughts and neglectful parents

Therapy.

According to everybody that was the solution to everything, all your problems would be solved if you just sat in a room with a stranger supposedly telling them everything about you.

Things you didn’t want anybody else to know.

You didn’t want to attend your sessions, but your parents were paying a lot of money for you to see this therapist, so you went to your sessions.

Though you never really said much, which was something Hannibal picked up on.

“Sometimes I do have to wonder why it is you insist on coming to your sessions if you’re just going to sit here to do homework instead.”

You shrugged a little bit, looking up from where you were sat on the floor.

“I’ve gotta do it somewhere, plus my parents pay for these sessions, it’ll be a waste of money I guess.”

“Do you not think you need it?”

“Everybody has problems I just don’t see the point in talking about it, it won’t change anything.”

“It could make it easier for you.”

You shrugged again and stood up, bringing a work book over to his desk and set it down.

Hannibal took the book so he could look at it while you dragged a chair over to sit next to him while he read through your work.

“Have you finished everything else?” He asked.

“Yeah, it’s just this. I don’t really get it so I thought I’d leave it until last.”

Hannibal nodded his head, taking one of his many notebooks, and he found one with your name on it and opened it.

Over the sessions he had become used to you using the time for your homework, asking him yo help you with whatever it was you didn’t understand.

It actually helped him learn a lot about you, about your possible home life since you didn’t seem interested in talking about whatever problems you were having.

Hannibal explained the problem to you, and he gave you a brief demonstration on how to solve it before giving you the notebook so you could try it for yourself.

“How is school going? Are you still having problems with some of the other students?”

“A little, but I think I solved most of them.”

He hummed a little bit, slowly nodding his head.

“How did you manage that? Did you take my advance and ignore them?”

“Nope.”

You grinned a little bit at your therapist and went back to your homework.

“Shoved a whole bunch of shaving cream and feathers into their lockers.”

“You do realise retaliation in such a way could could make this a lot more complicated for you. They could also possibly get you into trouble as well.”

“Maybe yeah I guess.”

“What did your parents have to say?”

“The usual nothing.”

Hannibal wrote that down in another notebook and he studied you for a moment.

Usually it was obvious why people were in therapy, usually he knew before they came to the sessions or they would have told him by now but you didn’t.

He was having to rely on everything he saw, everything you did and the very few things that you had said.

Your sessions were routine, going the same way nearly all of the of the time.

So he began to notice the change in your behaviour as time went on, it was slight, only tiny changes but he noticed.

You didn’t bring your homework anymore, you would just tell him about your day, the changes in your clothing, you seemed more withdrawn.

Then you began to miss sessions, the first he didn’t think about it, the second he was a little suspicious but when it came to the third and forth he knew there was something more.

So, when he opened his door to see that you weren’t sat in the waiting room he sighed, making his way to the phone to dial your number.

He waited as it rang, and eventually it rang off into voicemail.

Hannibal went through all his files until he found yours and he grabbed his keys and jacket as he left the office.

You were usually the last appointment of the day since you liked to hang around and just spend time with him, which he never added extra costs for.

Making his way to your listed address, Hannibal looked at the large house, very expensive looking and extremely well kept.

He parked in the drive and made his way to the door, knocking a few times, waiting.

The door was opened and you blinked a few times, stepping aside and gestured to the house so you could let him in.

“What brings you by doctor lector?” You asked.

You closed the door.

“Can I take your coat?”

“Ah, yes. Thank you.”

Hannibal handed you his jacket so you could hang it up next to yours by the door, and you led him through to the kitchen where you were before he knocked.

He watched as you carried on cooking your dinner.

“I didn’t know you were coming but you can still have some of you want.”

“No, I’m alright. But thank you. I’m actually here because you haven’t attended your sessions for the past three weeks.”

You nodded your head, setting the spoon down, and you sat on a bar stool.

“Sorry, I keep forgetting to cancel them. I know you have a policy about cancelling and whatever the fee is for not cancelling my parents can cover it.”

“That’s not why I’m here (Y/N), I’m not here about fees for cancelling.”

You seemed a little confused.

“I’m here because it isn’t like you to not turn up to your sessions, I am also aware that you haven’t been attending school recently.”

“How’d you know?”

“I called them.”

“Are you even legally allowed to do that? Can they even tell you that information?”

You were defensive.

You weren’t happy that he had called your school and you were looking for a reason to pin something on him, anything.

“I work rather closely with the FBI, I asked for favour as this behaviour is concerning.”

You nodded your head, going back to whatever your were making and you set it all aside before sitting down on the stool again.

Hannibal was stood on the other side of the counter, flicking through the recipe pages that you had left laying around.

“Can I cancel my sessions?”

Hannibal glanced up at you.

“You can, but I’d still very much like to check up on you at least once or twice a week.”

“Why? I won’t be your patient anymore.”

“Because I know you’re harming yourself, I would like to understand why. What makes you think you need to do that to yourself?”

You froze, and you tugged at your sleeves a little bit, pulling them even further.

“I’ve know for a while, I was hoping you would bring up the subject but you seem to have no interest in talking about what you’re going through.”

Hannibal walked to your cooker, and he took over making your dinner for you while you just sat there staring at the counter.

“What’s the point, it won’t change anything.”

“It can help, but people can’t help you if you won’t let them (Y/N), in order to be helped you must be willing to accept the hand that is offered to you.”

“I can’t be helped.”

You pushed yourself away from the counter you were sat at and left the kitchen, making your way into the lounge instead where you just sat down.

You turned on the TV, putting on some random show and you kicked your feet up on the table.

Hannibal followed you, setting your plate on the dining table, and he walked over, tapping your feet away from the table.

“You can be helped, nobody is beyond help.”

“I am.”

“No you’re not, now come eat and we can discuss whatever it is you’re going through.”

You didn’t bother to argue, you went to eat your dinner while Hannibal left you to eat in peace.

He came back and he set a few tubs down on the table in front of you.

“All of these are prescribed to patients who suffer from depression. How long have you been taking your medication for?” He asked.

“About a year or two, I don’t know.”

He hummed, nodding his head.

“How long have you not been taking them?”

You glanced up.

“You have been filling out your scripts, but you have a whole collection of unopened bottles.”

“About half a year I guess… I don’t know…”

“Do you plan on doing anything with those bottles?”

“No.”

“So I can take them away from you and only leave the one you’re supposed to have?”

You nodded your head.

You didn’t have any use for the old ones that you never took, you just kept filling in the scripts to keep everybody happy.

That wasn’t how you wanted to go out.

No.

You had thought about this night after night after night, and you knew exactly what you wanted to do.

“Are you here alone often?”

“My parents work a lot, they’re usually away most of the year.”

He nodded his head, taking your mostly empty plate away when you pushed it away from you.

You followed the therapist to your kitchen, climbing back up on the bar stool as you looked at him.

“Can I take a look at your arm, I would like to ensue that you don’t need any further medical attention.”

You moved your arm closer to yourself.

“Alright, that’s okay. You don’t need to show me, but I do need to know if you’re taking care to prevent infection.”

“Yeah, I know about all that stuff.”

“Good, now since you refuse to come to our sessions I will come here. A few times a week to ensure that you’re taking care of yourself.”

He did.

He kept coming by, he would talk to you, try encourage you to open up to him.

The one thing he noticed is how lonely the house seemed to be, the lack of family photos, the lack of friends around to the lack calls from your parents.

Hannibal arrived at your house like always, the first thing he noticed this time was that there was two other cars in the driveway.

Making his way up to the door he knocked, and a man answered.

“Hello, is (Y/N) home.”

“Who are you?” The man asked.

“My apologies, I’m doctor lector, their therapist. (Y/N) didn’t want to come to the office anymore so we’ve been continuing sessions here, I assume you are their father?”

“Yes, and I don’t know where they are. Look, I’m busy, go check their room or something I have meeting.”

Your dad left the door open and Hannibal walked in, making his way up the stairs to your room and he knocked on the door.

When you didn’t respond he knocked again.

“I’m opening the door.” He announced.

He pushed your door open and looked around to see that you weren’t there either.

Sighing, he made his way back to his car and tried to call your phone once more, but you never picked up.

He decided to head back to the office, deciding that he’d try and find you again tomorrow.

Hannibal didn’t know about your hideouts, where you liked to go or even have a slight idea on where you would go.

And that’s where he found you, sitting in the waiting room, and he walked over, crouching down in the front of you.

“I’ve been trying to find you.” He said gently.

You looked up, and you sniffled a little bit.

“Why do my own parents hate me…?” You asked.

Your voice cracked, and you leant back, tilting your head back to try and fight the tears that were burning your eyes.

“Let’s talk inside.”

He stood up, opening his door and you walked inside, taking a seat in one of the chairs.

Hannibal sat in the chair in front of you, offering you a few tissues which you took.

“What makes you think your parents hate you?”

“They’ve been home for two days… haven’t even spoken to me… haven’t even looked at me… it’s like I don’t exist…”

He nodded his head.

“I.. I.. it’s like if I died they wouldn’t even care… you know? They wouldn’t even notice…”

That was enough to catch his attention.

“Do you think about dying?”

“Sometimes… I know nobody would really notice.. life would carry on…”

“That’s not true.”

You looked up at him.

“I would certainly notice, life would be very different without you in it.”

You scoffed a little bit.

“You have to say that, it’s your job.”

“If you recall you left my services, it’s not my job to say that.”

Hannibal smiled slightly at you.

“I say it because I mean it, I do worry for you, I would notice your absence if you were to die, which is why I have to ask if you plan on acting upon this urge you have.”

“Sometimes but I.. I just can’t… you know?”

He nodded his head.

“I will admit this is rather concerning, I do have to wonder if for your own safety I have you placed in psychiatric care for a few days.”

“No! Please don’t…”

Hannibal thought for a moment, wondering what to do.

“If that’s the case then perhaps we can think of something else, in order to ensure your safety and a plan to help you through these feelings and urges that you are having.”

You nodded, agreeing with this.

The first step was for you to tell him everything you had been avoiding telling anybody this whole time, then he would come up with a care plan for you to help with your recovery and show you that you were important to this world

[youredreamingofroo]

On Repeat

// Click for HQ

Whew,,, I finally finished these! Thank you @elderwisp / @elksun / @living-undead / @dejasenti99 AND @yukikocloud FOR THE TAGS!!!! Holy wow :0

Tagging :

@circusjuney / @butteredfrogs / @mmonetsims / @flovoid

@birdietrait / @venriliz / @retrotrait / @mattodore

plus anyone else who wants to do this! Also feel free to ignore esp if you've alr done this, idk who has and hasn't im sorry 😭😭

// Extras under the cut - below is very long, so open w/ caution if you don't wanna scroll a lot 😭

This has taken the piss outta me (albeit fun), so i'm kinda just gonna explain how I think the featured line in particular is akin to the OC/Ship and not the entire song... as much as I'd love to 😭 Also it's just SUPER hard (for me) to find songs that I relate to my OCs, lyrics as well so skdjhnsjk

Roo's Song Oil & Water by Origami Button "When did I become like the ones I never thought I'd welcome in my home"

The above line in particular is quite literally Roo in the current story/character arc- He's looking at himself from a third person view and going "Oh. I am what I hate." He's looking at his old self, in college, and how he treated Leo, to now, looking at his present self and seeing the way he creeps on Leo, how he clings to him despite being several states over. Roo looks at the progression of his stalker-ish behavior, his obsession, how it went from just general clinginess that Leo could bear, to something completely unbearable after 7 years of no contact, it saddens him. So taking it quite literally, if he was at his own door and he knew how awful he was, he would slam the door on himself. A painful self reflection for him :')

Leo's Song Truth or Dare by Ricky Montgomery "Hiding in the closet, trying not to vomit, didn't even want it"

The entire first verse for this song can be applicable to Leo. As a teenager (15-16), Leo went HEAVY on drugs as a form of escapism from his parents, of course they'd always find him and get on his ass HARD for doing that shit. After a while of being sober, Leo started going to house parties, great idea- Flash forward to his third house party, and he finally cut his year long sober streak for drugs. as many as he could fit in his body. He had terrible influences around him so they encouraged him to do this shit, it didn't take long for his body to feel the god awful effects of taking so many drugs, so he ended up in the bathroom for a while- He tried to hold back the vomit because he was,,, partially enjoying his high, but he couldn't hold it back for long and ended up passing out, but not before nearly gutting himself from vomiting so much. Cut forward in time, and people got worried, bashed open the bathroom door and found Leo's unconscious body slumped over the toilet 🙃 Obv he came out fine, but it's a major moment in his life, because looking back on it, he realizes that wasn't what he wanted, he just wanted attention, he wanted to be cool, he wanted to be rebellious, but he didn't want to (nearly) kill himself. The render isn't one-to-one with the situation, but the lyrics are accurate so :3

Onia's Song Bloodstream by Soccer Mommy Scene used in render "Now a river runs red from my knuckles into the sink and there's a pale girl staring through the mirror at me"

Overall, the song talks about how the artist (Soccer Mommy) has lost her childhood innocence and how she wants to go back to her childhood and putting Onia's Sheep in Wolf's clothing motif aside, Onia misses being a child, and misses not knowing the pain and burden of being the complete opposite of what her parents wanted, so she spirals over this a lot, and like the lyrics say, "a river runs red from my knuckles into the sink," She tends to lean towards harming herself, in this case, her hands, and her knuckles- I can't draw or simulate blood in either blender or GIMP, so the red light is supposed to simulate the blood-sodden sink that she's standing over, and of course, "pale girl," is Onia, she's staring at herself, but additionally I like to think she's staring past the mirror, or staring through it (wink wink), she's spacing out and thinking about who she should've been, or who she could've been.

Hero's Song Following Eyes by Soccer Mommy "An awful feeling started creeping over me and what I saw was like no horror I had seen"

I'm keeping this short and sweet. It's not easy to find a song (that I like) that's about being haunted or cursed so. I had to re-use her song from her intro post, which isn't bad, but I did hope to find a new song kdsjhnsjk Anyways. Hero's cursed, pretty much anywhere she goes, she is forced to perceive ~the horrors~, sometimes she's forced into a blank space, a void (SOMETIMES,,, not a lot,,, rarely moreso), where she'll be tormented for who even knows how long, this moment in particular, she was walking along this catwalk in the dark, she eventually felt something that felt similar to someone dragging their fingers up your spine, in a moment of fear, she turned around and just. saw. She looked onto this,,, being, what she saw was "like no horror I had seen,,," Although to be fair, the creature isn't all that horrifying (which in my defense.. I'm a blender novice so </333)

The Hiraeth Song Nomu by Good Kid "Four eyes entwined draw four separate lines and none of them point to you"

I think this song overall is a perfect example of Roo and Leo's relationship both after Leo's confession and after Roo tried to reconnect with Leo. After Leo confessed, he tried to keep their relationship going, but it didn't work out, so he gave up (Roo didn't realize Leo was pulling such a weight and he just let their friendship fall out) After Roo tried to reconnect (aka the CURRENT storyline), Roo has been trying to keep things together and has been trying to make things work, but Leo has long-since given up on their friendship as a whole. Now in terms of the lyric above; Post-Confession, every conversation they had together would not be the same, they couldn't look each other in the eyes, their eyes would connect momentarily and separate almost immediately; Nowadays, if they WERE to be living together or near each other, they just would NOT be able to talk to each other, because Leo would be fed up with Roo and trying to avoid as much eye contact and general verbal+physical contact as possible with him. Roo, on the other hand, is just terrible with eye contact so he would have a terrible time trying to engage in eye contact with Leo.

The Ithanel / It's All Wrong Song From Eden by Hozier "Babe there's something broken about this but I might be hoping about this oh what a sin"

Ithuriel and Nanel's entire relationship is inherently toxic, they are not toxic to each other, but the underlying (or moreso, the OVERWHELMING OVERLYING) dangers of this relationship makes it toxic, broken in a way. Nanel risks her life going to see Ithuriel outside of work-related interactions and Ithuriel risks her life by just. seeing, talking to and loving Nanel. Whether they know (they do) or care (they dont) about these dangers, they still want this relationship, they live on, literal, prayers that they are not caught and that they can continue to love each other in peace, but overall, their relationship, in the eyes of the heavenly council (ehhh W.I.P term for IAW lore stuff), is a sin, and nothing but a sin.

Ithuriel's Song What You Mean by Rome Hero Foxes "Cause every little god damn thing you do makes me wanna get close to you"

The lyrics speak for themselves... Ithuriel is very dedicated to Nanel, and literally every waking moment of seeing and knowing Nanel drives Ithuriel up the walls because she loves her so much.

Nanel's Song Future Me Hates Me by The Beths "It's getting dangerous, I could get hurt, I know, I've counted up the cons, they far outweight the pros."

This is semi-foreshadowing, but Nanel knows that her and Ithuriel's relationship is forbidden, wrong (not cuz its gay necessarily,, 😭), and the way Ithuriel's heavenly role works means that their relationship status and every interaction outside of a required interaction is a risky game of one or both of them being punished and sentenced to death. But ! Nanel loves Ithuriel wayyyy too much to let how insanely dangerous their relationship is to get in the way of them loving and being with e/o.

Nirvana's Song 1999 by Beabadoobee "And I'm not wasting time again, closure instead of s^x, and I'm not wasting time again" Idk if I need to censor s^x but i am justttt in case...

Oof, Nirvana... Nirvana has always been sxually active, she's always had one-night-stands with other men, she's tried to continue things after that ONS, but it never works, she's tried to have relationships with women, but they just use her for s^x. She's tired of wasting time with people who just want her for her body, she's tired of s^x, she just wants, well, closure, she wants someone who will love her for her, she wants a relationship without s^x, or at least isn't s^x-focused, she just wants to know someone will love her past her body. Although aforementioned is all just a habit so she will unfortunately end up right back where she started and continue this uncomfortable and sad spiral.

[illdowhatiwantthanks]

Hii! Could you possible write something more with Emily and her partner self harming? You write it so incredibly well and I find so much comfort in it, it’s insane. Maybe Emily finding out for the very first time when her partner is actively doing it? <333

Hi, anon! I'm always happy to write hurt/comfort about self-harm. :) It's my genuine hope that it brings people comfort and helps them feel less alone. Much love to you! –illdowhatiwantthanks

Doxxed

Emily Prentiss x fem!reader Warnings: BIG self-harm warning!!!, cutting, blood, mentions of past familial abuse, homophobia, bigotry, use of slurs, explicit language (please let me know if I've missed anything!) Word count: 2.2k

One comment. One stupid, stupid comment. That’s all it had taken.

Don’t listen to the haters! Happy Pride! 🏳️‍🌈 Thanks for the support!

You’d left it thoughtlessly, carelessly even, on the Washington Nationals Instagram post for Pride. Frustrated by all the hate and homophobia in the comments, you’d left one of support. You wanted the other queer fans to know they weren’t alone, and for the social media team to know that their post meant something.

You hadn’t expected it to blow up. You hadn’t expected to be the sole target of the Nationals’ conservative fan base. The first few comments, you’d ignored:

WTH is a they?

bro, what is “they” 🙏💀😭

your an npc you cannot be talking

not a fan

I think you mean IT

the Support your dad never gave you huh?

you need to read your bible

by haters you mean 95% of the population?

So, they’d found your profile. They’d seen your pronouns listed as she/they. Your page was private, they shouldn’t have access to anything else. You took deep breaths, turning off your Instagram notifications, trying your best to ignore the red notification alerts climbing into the hundreds, then the thousands.

But the first phone call? That had taken you off guard. It was an unknown number. You shouldn’t even have picked up.

“Hello?” you’d said, so innocent, so unprepared.

“Is this Y/N Y/L/N?”

“Yes, this is she…”

“Do you mean they!? You fucking dyke. Bet your daddy diddled you when you were little, huh? That’s why you’re so fucked up now!? I could fix that real quick. You just need a real dick shoved in you. Where do you live, baby? We can arrange that! You’re disgusting. You need some real cock in your life.”

It was so aggressive, so vulgar, so quick and angry. You couldn’t have gotten a word in if you’d tried. You hung up, shocked, silent. You were used to homophobia. You were used to hate and bigotry. You’d grown up in a place where people had called you a dyke on the streets, where churchgoers pulled you aside in the grocery store to pray over your “lifestyle.” Your parents had hated you long before you came out of the closet, so their revulsion wasn’t a surprise and it didn’t hurt, not any more than they’d already hurt you.

But you were so far away from where you’d come from, and you were so used to feeling safe here. You had Emily and you had the BAU and you were, generally speaking, free to walk around and live your life as your full, truest self without fear. The fact that this phone call, the hatred that came with it, had invaded your home, your safe space–it shook you. You were physically shaken.

But the calls kept coming. Again and again. Nonstop. So many they overlapped one another. So many that your voicemail box was full. And then the emails started. You knew you shouldn’t read them, shouldn’t listen to the voicemails, shouldn’t open up Instagram and scroll through the hateful comments. But you couldn’t stop yourself. And everything you read made you feel lower. You could handle a lot of hate, but this was past your threshold. It was the comments about your family that got to you the most. How did they know!? How did they know where to hit you the hardest? Where you were already weak and wounded and it wouldn’t take much to break you?

Emily was away on a case with the BAU. You wished she was here. You’d feel better if she was with you. More solid, less affected. Somehow, the bigotry never got to Emily, not like it got to you. You knew if she was here, she’d hold you, she’d set up some sort of fancy FBI phone trace and figure out who was calling you, she’d shut down your Instagram or take your phone from you so that you wouldn't be able to read the comments. She’d tell you she loved you, that you were beautiful, perfect, exceptional. She’d tell you that what these people said about you, how they made you feel, was not real, was not who you were. She’d remind you that who your dad thought you were, how he’d treated you, what he’d done to you–that wasn’t you either. That you were hers and you were your own. You were brave and strong and beautiful. But she wasn’t here to tell you any of that, and somehow telling yourself those things didn’t carry the same weight. By the time you fell asleep that night, you were in a spiral of such self-hatred, such hopelessness, such unending anxiety at each buzz of your phone–you hadn’t felt this low since college.

When you woke up the next morning–a Saturday–you turned off your phone, determined not to let the haters get to you, to take control of the day, of your emotions. You meditated. You listened to your favorite music. You made yourself some breakfast.

You stepped outside to go on a walk, knowing that fresh air and movement would do you good, keep you from spiraling further. But you stopped dead in your tracks when you turned to shut the door behind you. Spray-painted in angry red over the door frame of your townhouse was FAGS BURN IN HELL.

You went back inside and slammed the door behind you, trying not to cry. Too much. It was all too much. They had your socials. They had your email. They had your phone number. And now they knew where you lived. Every bit of safety and security you’d worked so hard to build here seemed to be crumbling around you, and there was nothing you could do about it.

And you knew then, like you were watching a film of yourself, watching something that had already happened, that you would go to the bathroom. You would take out a fresh razor blade, and you would drag it across the skin of your forearm. That you would bleed, and the blood would be the tears you didn’t let yourself cry. Just like it had been all those years ago, when you hid from your dad in the bathroom. Like it was in college when you figured out you were gay and hated yourself for it. Like it had been when your dad had died and you’d gone to his funeral and you’d lied and told Emily the wounds were from the barn cat scratching you.

It was magnetic, inevitable almost. The more you fought, the more you hated yourself for not being able to resist, which only made you crave the sharpness more. You looked at yourself in the bathroom mirror and wondered at how easy it was for everything to fall apart around you. The self-confidence, the security, the life you’d spent years, decades even, building, it all seemed to be crumbling. From one stupid comment.

You held the blade to your arm, a little shaky, knowing that once you did it, you wouldn’t be able to take it back. The line of blood was familiar, almost a relief, the pain an old friend, one that you’d kept away for so, so long. You hated yourself for doing it. You hated yourself for enjoying it. But you enjoyed the hating, too.

So focused were you on the lines, the series of parallels and perpendiculars you were carving lightly into yourself, that you didn’t hear the front door open, didn’t hear Emily call your name, voice dripping with concern having seen the angry message. You didn’t notice her at all until she was at the bathroom door, eyes wide and panicked, frozen. Before you could react, she’d lunged forward, grabbed your hand, and squeezed, forcing you to drop the razor blade. Her voice came to you as if through water, blurry and hazed and distant, as she wrapped your bloody arm in a towel.

“Honey, stop, stop!!” she called, frantic and shaky. “What are you doing!?”

The moment you made eye contact with her–and saw how scared you’d made her–you broke. Tears streamed down your face and you choked back sobs, sinking to the bathroom floor. Emily lowered herself with you, making sure to keep your arm tightly wrapped, caressing your face with her free hand.

“Hey,” she cooed. “It’s okay. What’s going on? Can you tell me? Please talk to me, baby. Please.”

You didn’t answer, couldn’t seem to catch your breath or find your voice. You simply buried your head in the crook of her neck, trying to regain some semblance of security.

Emily rubbed your back, resting her chin on your head. “Is it about the writing on the door?”

You nodded, sucking in a shaky breath.

“I’ll get someone to take care of it, okay? But… honey, why did that make you… why did you want to… hurt yourself?”

“It’s not just the door,” you confided, sniffling. “It’s the phone calls and the emails and the fucking Instagram comments.”

“Wh–?” Emily sounded deeply confused, even as she ran her fingers through your hair, placed kisses at the top of your head.

“I left one comment, Em, on some stupid fucking baseball Pride post to say, like, Happy Pride! Thanks for not being bigots! And all the fucking bigots in DC came out of the woodwork to dox me.”

Emily exhaled, mind racing. First, she had to keep you safe from yourself. Then she needed to keep you and her and your home physically safe. Then she needed to get your digital safety under control. Emily was a fixer at heart. And she was determined to make you feel safe again.

“And why the fuck do they keep bringing up my dad!?” You choked out another sob.

Understanding flooded through Emily, and she held you a little tighter, a little closer. It was your dad. That’s what had really triggered you. You were used to homophobia. But you hated being reminded of your dad. Emily rubbed her thumb along the bloodied towel around your forearm, a realization sinking in, one that broke her heart.

“This isn’t the first time you’ve hurt yourself,” she whispered, more to herself than to you. It devastated her. How could she protect you from yourself? From your past? She couldn’t go back and change it, no matter how desperately she wanted to.

You could hear the heartbreak in her voice, and guilt flooded into all the hurt places inside you, all the places the blood had left empty. You buried your face in your hands.

“I’m sorry, Em,” you cried, shrinking into yourself. “I’m so sorry.”

But the more you tried to squirm away, the harder she held you. “Hey,” she soothed. “It’s okay. I’m sorry. I’m sorry you’ve been through things that make you want to hurt yourself.”

Her voice broke, and you wrapped your arms around her waist, your instinct to comfort her kicking in. She was shaking, you realized. She was scared.

“But, baby, please don’t shut me out,” she continued. “I’ll do whatever it takes, okay? Just… I don’t… I don’t know how to protect you from you.”

You sat up and looked at Emily, her eyes now swimming with tears. “Emily,” you said softly, wiping her eyes with your thumbs. “That’s not your job.”

“It is my job,” she insisted. “It’s always my job to keep you safe.”

You exhaled shakily, lifting your arm to wet a rag at the sink, and handing it to Emily, uncovering the angry red cuts on your arm. You pulled gauze and medical tape out of the bottom cabinet drawer and set those next to you.

“Here,” you said, extending your arm, knowing that Emily would feel better with something tangible to do to help you.

She dabbed at your arm with the rag, her fingers gentle and cool against your skin.

“It’s not something you can fix, Em,” you told her, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear as she focused on your wounds, eyes swimming. “I need to go back to therapy.”

She nodded, deep in thought, smoothing the gauze over your wound, and carefully taping it in place.

“But you could get Penelope to shut down the internet trolls?” you suggested, venturing a smile. Your heart wasn’t in it yet, but you knew that with Emily here, it would be soon.

Emily ran her fingers over your arm, placing a small kiss on the bandages. She smiled at you, sad and determined and angry and scared, and squeezed your hand. “Oh, I will fucking end the trolls. Starting with the asshole who fucked up our door. Bet that idiot’s not expecting the FBI to come knocking.”

You giggled, and she pressed her forehead to yours and, for just a moment, everything was okay.

You knew that Emily couldn’t make you better. She wasn’t magic. And even the best relationships couldn’t take away all the hurt of the past. But Emily made it easier for you to make yourself better. She made you want to do the work. And, for that–and for so many other reasons–you’d love her forever.

[hiaon]

First time asking, can I ask for a nsfw of m!reader bunny w the biggg baddd werewolf. Old trope ik but I eat it up every time. It's okay if you don't wanna, I love your works btw!

Werewolf oc x Bunny male reader 

Dw I also eat this sht up like cake, also. Thank you for liking my workss!! I also thought about this yesterday! I had 2 Ideas for this, either an going auction male bunny reader. Or just in the woods, so I took the safer option. (Definitely not because I have no idea what to do next in the auction one orrr should I make that one too??)

Took forever right? 💀

Disclaimer: Size difference, BIMBO, mating, & a Soft giant.

Ever since your parents left you in your now home, you never saw another bunny as such for yourself. You always have to find food for your self, your diet usually just flowers. Especially dandelions.

Dandelions are your favorite! So the result of your dandelion addiction, you couldn't find anymore in your area. It's probably because you ate all of it, or something..

After days, even a week without dandelions. You started to lose yourself and wanted to go to the forbidden place where your parents forbidd you to go in part of the woods, ever since you got into that part of the forest your started to feel very hot.

At this point of your life, you didn't even know what a heat was. So you didn't think anything of it. But even you felt uncomfortable and weird at the time, but you saw a field of dandelions! You we're so excited, you though that it can last you for months with this much food. You really thought you hit the jackpot.

But with all this excitement and food. You didn't notice a werewolf watching your every move at his territory.

After losing count on how many dandelions you ate, it was already the afternoon and since the view was amazing and you haven't felt this good in a while, aside the hot and weird feeling in your stomach. It was already the afternoon and you still can't get rid that hot feeling, in fact it's getting worst by the minute you wanted to do something but don't know how. So you just laid there feeling feverish, till you fall asleep in the field of dandelions.

Though the werewolf was contemplating when to strike at the bunny, but he couldn't get himstto do so. There was just something about the bunny that made him stop thinking, so he just watched the whole thing until the bunny slept.

The werewolf thought there was something wrong with the bunny, was the bunny in heat?.

It's not safe to leave a poor bunny in heat outside like this. A lot of hybrid animals will eventually take advantage of the sleeping bunny, so he took the chance to take to bunny to his house.

--

When you woke up you felt horrible, your sweating all over the place and have tho urge to do something, but you can't put your finger into it.

You didn't even noticed the werewolf a little bit 5 feet away for you, you finally noticed when you heard that he heard the werewolf snort at a bug near his nose.

You were terrified, you had a million questions per second. As you froze for a moment, you had the courage to bolt into a random room. You just have to get away, is this the reason why your parents forbid you to go to the forest that you're currently in??

But suddenly you ran into a dead end, as if feeling fire is one with your body wasn't enough. The running you did definitely made it worst, something in your stomach started to burn. It made everything worst with the current situation.

"Woah there lil bunny, I don't intend to harm you." The werewolf said while still being on his hairy form. Since survival skill is a bitch and didn't know who he was of course he was going to try to run away from him.

"W-why did you bring me h-here.." Your trying and hard as you can to ignore the now heat-that-you-don't-even-know-a-thing-about.

The werewolf knows that you're in pain because of the heat.

"Look, I'm trying my best to hold on here. How about you just go to my bed and rest till that heat of yours wears down a little bit." The werewolf really really is trying to not go ballistic like a wild animal and pounce on you like there's no tomorrow, and you sensed that he is sincere and honest to his words.

So you gave in, if you didn't you would have think you'll pass out twice today.

"E- excuse me uhm-"

"The names Riot, sweetheart."

You blushed at the nickname, since it's been years of talking to an actual living being. Not some doll you made when you we're bored.

"Uhm.. Riot, how do you get rid of this heat?" Riot explained some to you briefly earlier, so.. you kind know what it is.

"You have to make love with someone, here's tea. To get you to calm down a little bit on your heat." Riot is the different type of werewolf that your parents always say that was wild and ballistic to everyone, it was refreshing for you some how.

"How?"

"Uh, how do I say this. You need a person to help it calm down it for you." Riot seems flustered.

"Then, can we do it?" With curiosity in your eyes and eagerness to get this heat gone once and for all. You hated this feeling.

"What.. Look sweetheart, heat isn't that light to be taken up so easily. You need a person you actually trust to do it with-" You cut him off because, your heat is getting more intense by the minute.

"P-please! Help m-me get rid of my heat for me.. Please.?" Honestly, how could anyone would refuse those eyes.

---

Let's just say that you won't be able to do anything tomorrow. 

[a-sip-of-milo]

Nobody ever understands the affects of reactive abuse until they've experienced it themselves.

It shows particularly well when people would rather blame a child for reacting rather than the adult for abusing them in the first place.

When I was fourteen, my parents held me down to my bed, locked my window so I couldn't escape, took everything they knew I loved away from me (including contact with my grandmother, all my books, my music, all my diaries, etc.) and my step dad threatened to sit in the corner of my room and watch me for the entire night if I tried to escape. All while my three younger siblings watched me.

As a result, I had my first panic attack. It led me to attempting to break my window, smashing my mirror, becoming physically violent towards either of my parents when they attempted to come into my room, and nearly overdosing later that night after everyone had gone to bed.

For years, people ignored what I had gone through to get to that point. My parents had crafted such an elaborate story that painted themselves as the victims of my terrible abuse that nobody thought to question how I reached that point. Not the police. Not my school. Not even over half of my own family believed me. The extent of my suicidal ideations nearly put me in hospital multiple times over the following years, even succeeding once.

Reacting to abuse in this way is a cry for help. It's the equivalent of self-harm in my book, except directed towards others. That's not to say that it's okay, but more people seriously need to start looking at the bigger picture before making assumptions.

This blog is safe for people with NPD, BPD, HPD and ASPD.

[0vergrowngraveyard]

the sky is being noisy (thunderstorm directly over my house) so i’m gonna talk about my villain au boys because they need therapy like right now 🫶

tw: abusive behavior

sonic:

sonic was taken in by eggman when he was young (eggdad moment) and didn’t realize that the doctor was just using him for his own gains. when sonic did find out, instead of having a battle of morals, sonic just straight up said that he would be better than eggman ever was and ran away

being around tails has changed his life both for better and for worse. for better because, well, it’s tails! a sonic will always need a tails! they’re a cosmic truth, after all! …right?

unfortunately, being around tails has also caused some harm. he does consider tails to be his little brother, but subconsciously the thought of family scares him after figuring out that eggman had been using him. he’s terrified of rejection and getting attached

is tails just using him too? what if the kit leaves him alone as well? he doesn’t deal with thoughts like these very well, frequently spiraling into extreme highs and lows where he’ll either guilt trip tails into staying by his side or passive aggressively pushes him away

he hates that he does it, he’s very self aware and knows he’s hurting the kid, but he can’t bring himself to either change for the better for leave the kit somewhere he’ll be safe

tails:

tails was not abandoned by his parents in this au, but they were very abusive towards the kit. the prower name is a pretty big one so he’d frequently make public appearance where he was forced to hide his mutation. at home, his parents basically ignore him yet get mad at him for not being the perfect child they wanted

when tails met sonic, he’d been kicked out of the house for the day. he was six years old. sonic found him sitting outside and just started talking to the kit, eventually convincing him to run away with the hedgehog

while being around sonic has helped him feel protected, he can’t help but crave that parental affection he was never shown by his own parents. he’ll go above and beyond just for a simple “good job” or fur ruffle (he does not swat sonic’s hand away). he’s also still very insecure about his namesakes and rarely ever flies

despite craving sonic’s attention so much, he’s also kinda scared of him. he never knows when the hedgehog will snap next and is walking on eggshells almost 24/7

the brothers love each other, they genuinely do, they’re just damaged. nothing about their bond is healthy. it’s very codependent, both of them relying on the other to be their source of happiness. it’s ruining them both

they’ll never leave each other’s side, tho. they’re all each other have and neither of them wants to be alone

[alostlittleriverlotus]

Oh yeah make sure neglected people get love until that neglected person is a fucking narcissist. Cause all narcissists are bad. Everything I do is intentionally manipulative or maybe they'll say I'm not actually a narcissist and are just confused or supporting them cause I've been made to feel guilty. I've been on both sides. People will believe I'm a narcissist and so therefore I'm abusive or people will not believe I'm a narcissist cause I'm too nice and just getting caught up in narcissists manipulating me to support them.

I hate the idea that my self image is not by my choice. I will always be what OTHERS perceive me as. I have always been that and it will continue to be that. People will either see someone that can't do any wrong or someone that can only do wrong. Like stfu I am a person! I can do good and bad! I have a past of being toxic and harmful esp as a teenager cause I was a fucking mentally fucked teen still in an abusive situation.

I just. I dunno. Im waiting on food so I'm very like just ranty about everything and anything. But like. Stfu. Stfu stfu stfu stfu stfu. If anyone else is needy and needs attention or reassurance then it's fine. But I have had it demonized since my fucking childhood and had my fucking meltdowns demonized as being intentionally manipulative!!! I WAS A FIVE YEAR OLD AUTISTIC CHILD STFU!!!!!

And people praising empathy as being good piss me off. Cause you know what else can also have hypoempathy? AUTISM. Low empathy is not just an "evil" personality disorder thing. Anyone can be anywhere on the scale of empathy. And it doesn't fucking matter. And anyone can be capable of good or bad. It has literally nothing to do with narcissism or any disorder.

Like wtf are anti narcissists gonna fucking do when they realize theyve done harm??? Cause you know what being someone believing in narc abuse did to me?! It made me believe that i was justified as a victim of narcissists so therefore I couldn't be wrong in my trauma responses.

Yeah. Accepting im a narcissist did way more for helping my relationships by allowing me to understand and communicate my needs than believing in narc abuse and calling my parents narcissists ever fucking did. Wtf are they gonna do when they're told about the harm they've done??? Not even related to narc abuse. I would have horrible episodes and defended myself cause I wasn't like my abusive "narcissistic" parents. And all it did was lead to more fights and more episodes and my friend couldn't help cause they were dealing with trauma responses too (people pleasing, believing it was okay what I did or that she deserved it even when I told her not to say or believe that, it's a very lengthy explanation required thing.)

Anyone and everyone is capable of good and bad and is capable of harming others. Whether it's full on abuse, even worse things, or just being insensitive and thoughtless. Focusing so much on the big bad narcissists will only continue to focus on this "us vs them" mentality that completely negates any sort of nuance and ignores the fact that harmful people, abusers, and even the worst of humanity is ALLOWED by society. It isn't a prevalence of narcissists, it is fucking bigotry. And it is everywhere. And it allows abuse to be normalized.

Big list of things I been thinking on. Fuck fuck fuck. I'm already fucking stressed and my parents won't stfu so I can think and type. Disorganized speech, semiverbal, can't thinky think.

[rayshippouuchiha]

(tw: abuse, self-harm, suicide)

to child-free anon: you are absolutely valid. my mom has a similar problem. she's great to anyone who could enact consequences on her, but she made my and my siblings' childhood a living hell. it was an incredibly toxic environment to grow up in. i was regularly hit, yelled at, and manipulated by suicide threats, etc., all because a single thing ticked off my mom. the first time i contemplated suicide, i was 9. the first time i considered about killing her, i was 13.

as a child, i was convinced that she had two separate people in her brain, and i only wanted the "nice one". overall, she was an good mom. she took me on walks, baked with me, helped me with homework, and all the things a parent would normally do. sometimes she would be giddy and playful like a kid, and other times she would beat me for writing too hard in my notebook. i was deathly scared of the other half, constantly on edge for when it would come out.

she fucked me up so bad, and i loved her the entire time, because she was the only person who ever stayed with me. i craved her approval so viscerally in everything i did, but nothing was ever enough. she wanted everything from me, and i could only give so much.

i'm absolutely terrified of turning out like her because i can recognize so many of her behaviors in me too. i get auditory overloads easily, i bottle my anger up, and i have graphic intrusive thoughts that i can't always push away or ignore. my mom used to get severe light migraines and would scream for hours on end when she had them. i always think of them whenever i get panic attacks from an overload, and how much worse i would be if i had to deal with a kid during my migraines.

i adore children, but i would break any child i had myself. my peace and quiet is one of the few things i value above all else, and if someone breaks it, i wouldn't be able to restrain myself no matter how much i loved them. i know my mom despised herself for how she treated us, but she still did it.

you're saving someone by not having kids, and you're saving yourself too. never let anyone try to convince you otherwise.

Trauma is absolutely a completely valid reason to not want children, no matter the source. Just, I think it's so much more responsible to see these kinds of things in oneself and choose to take steps to contain any possible damage that could spill over onto others than to just ignore it or think it doesn't matter.

[maknaesdancersrappers]

devoted 2.

part 16.

Overall warning/s: kinkier smut (eg. voyeurism, exhibitionism, etc.) character death, dark themes

Chapter warning/s: vulgar language, violence, self harm, stalking, kidnapping

Just how devoted is Jaehyun to you?

prev: part 15

wc: 4.8k

The night air was cold — winter should be around the corner now. You don’t know how you could get your winter clothing from the house now, though. But that’s something you can worry about later, for now you walked away into the night.

There was a small restaurant that had a nice selection of comfort food near the bus stop that you could stop by. You’re famished, you had forgotten about food the entire time you were up there.

Your mind is still on Jaehyun, what could he be doing right now? Your steps faltered as the possibilities in your head grew worse one after the other.

“Jaehyun, if Ms. [Y/N] had left that night, what would you have done?”

“I would have picked up a shard from that broken mirror and slit my wrists.”

Your mouth fell into a soundless gasp, he couldn’t have… but your legs were already turning on your heels and made a step forward to go back to the apartment.

“[Y/N].”

You jumped, hugging your bag to your chest and ducking your head down.

“Woah— calm down. It’s just me.”

Looking up, you feel relaxed when you see Yuta in workout clothes. “Oh, Yuta. I’m sorry. I’m just… a little jumpy.”

He laughed, “I can tell. I’m just as surprised to see you here.”

“Ah well,” You nervously said, “Just thought it would be nice to take a walk. How about you? Were you jogging?”

Yuta tilted his chin up at the building the two of you were standing by and you followed his gaze to the brightly lit gym. “I work out here. I don’t like the one at my apartment. Do you need a ride home? I heard Jaehyun’s abroad at the moment.”

At the mention of his name, your face fell and you moved your attention to your feet. “Ah, no. It’s okay. Thanks for the offer, I was going to get dinner before heading home. Would you… like to join me?”

He smiled, “I would love to, but maybe some other time.”

“Alright.” You nodded, a little relieved that he declined your offer. “Well, have a good evening.”

“You, too.” Yuta waved, “Stay safe.”

This made you feel uneasy. You had been so caught up with Jaehyun and the past that you forgot someone is out to get him. Did they know you left him? Would they still be after you? Maybe hitching a ride home with Yuta wasn’t so bad—

You turned around and found he was long gone and you cussed under your breath. You’ve decided to have dinner at home instead, that was the safer option. As you hurriedly walked off to the bus stop, you thought about how you could possibly keep yourself — and your parents, now that you’re back to living with them — safe. Would it be too much to ask Soojung for help even though you broke up with her cousin? You would have to wait to get back to the house to contact her through email on your laptop to do so.

If you were right, the bus that drops you off near your parent’s place should be the next one in a few minutes as indicated by the timer on the bus stop. You sat yourself, wary of your surroundings but felt thankful for it to be well lit and a lot of pedestrians were around. Surely, you were safe here.

Your mind kept going back to Jaehyun, hoping he hadn’t done anything drastic. Maybe you should contact his mom first when you get home.

It’s a 45-minute bus ride back to your parent’s place so you made yourself as comfortable as you can on the bus seat when it finally arrived. 

Leaning against the window, you stared at the seat in front of you. Some things you overlooked and ignored in the past about Jaehyun started to make sense now. Like how he knew where your dorm was back in college before you even told him or how he seemingly knew things you liked. You felt stupid now for assuming he was just some good guesser or was really lucky at assuming things about you. You couldn’t wrap your head around how he was able to pretend that he didn’t know anything, how he was able to look you in the eye and tell you how he fell in love that day you “met” in class, how he could present himself as the perfect man in front of your parents, how he could straight up lie to your face when you asked if he had anymore skeletons in his closet when he was finally opening up to you. 

Your eyes started to sting again at the rush of emotions coming over you. 

Jaehyun claimed he was going to tell you eventually but when was that? After the wedding? After your first child? That image of the future with him you had constantly dreamt of was shattered now, broken and scattered, unsalvageable. And if it came to that point, you wouldn’t know how to react. It’ll hurt a lot more, you bet. Would you still be able to leave? File for divorce? If not, you’d be estranged from him. 

You took a long, deep breath to keep your tears at bay. This could have all been avoided, you thought. If he had just approached you that day, why couldn’t he have just done that?

You were just staring off into space for a few minutes and when you blinked, you saw landmarks that notified you that you were near your stop. You nearly jumped in your seat. Luckily, it wasn’t as crowded and there were only a handful of passengers with you who were all preoccupied to see your reaction.

When the bus came to a stop and you alighted, you let out a heavy sigh. It’s like you were visiting home during school breaks when you were attending university. As you started walking, you stared at your feet. A part of you is hoping this was all just a dream. You’ll get home, lay your head on your pillow, and you’ll wake up from this nightmare.

A car revving from the main street made you jump, looking back with an angered expression. You never understood why people did that especially if it’s near family homes at night. As you were about to return to trekking down the pathway, you caught something in the shadow from your periphery. Something moved and you flinched, but noticing that it was small, you excused it as a stray ducking into the darkness. You resumed your little journey, footsteps a little faster after being spooked.

There was a shortcut that went through the small forest that would take you straight to the street of your parent’s house and cut your walk in half, the only downside is that it wasn’t well lit like the streets and had a lamppost every few meters. You thought about taking it, but with the current situation, you knew it wasn’t the smartest idea.

The entrance to the shortcut was coming into view and you looked over your shoulder to see if someone else was walking down the path with you. 

There was someone there. It didn’t register when you saw them, but when it clicked in your head, you stopped walking. You looked back again and the silhouette of the person was still approaching you.

Maybe it’s another homeowner, you convinced yourself. But the closer they got, the faster and harder your heart thumped in your chest.

When they were just a couple feet away, you could make out that this person was a tall, slim man. He stopped all of a sudden, probably taking notice that you were watching him. The street lamp was behind him so you couldn’t see his face well, but you could make out that he had long fringes covering his eyes and a black face mask.

“Is something wrong?” His voice was deep… but strained, and it’s not brought by his mouth being covered by a mask. It was like… he was speaking in this tone on purpose.

“Oh,” You shook your head, “Sorry, no. I, uh, I thought you were someone I know.”

The stranger laughed, “Oh, I see.”

“I’m sorry again. Have a nice evening.” You bowed your head and started to walk forward again but froze when the stranger spoke up again.

“This is boring.”

“I… I beg your pardon?” You looked back at him. 

He had his arms crossed now, head cocked to the side. “This will be more fun if you run.”

His voice had changed; it sounded natural now — and familiar. But you couldn’t bring yourself to figure out who it was because you were focused on what he had said.

Run?

The stranger dropped his arms to the side, both hands brandishing items that were too distinct to mistake to be anything else. One hand held some cloth while the other…

“I said, it will be more fun, if you run.” Something metallic clicked and the other item in his hands extended by a couple inches, glinting in the light. “Go on, run.”

So you did.

You smiled at the girl manning the booth, handing over exact change as you told her your order: the coldest bottle of cider they had. You felt a little bad that she made the effort to stick almost her entire arm into the cooler to get to the bottles at the very bottom. You sensed someone beside you and you figured they wanted to buy something as well so you stepped to the side to give them space.

The girl handed you your drink, but she was not looking at you anymore. She had a big, flirty grin on her face as she greeted the person you had made way for. You took the drink and thanked her, a little amused at her expression. You started to make your way back when you felt someone touch your arm.

“Hey, excuse me—”

“[Y/N]! There you are! I’ve been trying to find you everywhere!”

You waved at your best friend, who picked you up for a bear hug that made you shy and laugh.

“You were amazing! Congrats on the win, [Y/N].” Doyoung settled you back on the ground and you shook your head.

“I don’t know,” You playfully sang, “I think I owe it all to my cheerleaders in the crowd.”

He smugly crossed his arms over his chest, “That’s right, because I made sure everyone out cheered the others.”

“Whatever! Hey, wanna join the team for some snacks? Ji Ah bought too much again.” You hooked your arm around his like how you always would, reeling him along as you walked back to the table.

“Who am I to deny food, [Y/N]?”

You giggled at him, shaking your head. You looked back at the booth, remembering someone had tapped your arm. But no one was there anymore. There were a couple of students walking away, but you really couldn’t tell who it was. Did you drop something? You only brought over the exact amount of money you needed to pay.

“Hey, you okay? Are you looking for someone?”

You squinted, attention darting from one person to the other. “No…” But then you saw a familiar mop of hair — the back of someone’s head you knew well that you could pinpoint it from a mile away. 

“Jaehyun?”

He was wearing basketball shorts and a similar colored jacket that had ‘JUNG’ printed on the back in a collegiate font and large ‘94’ below it. 

You ran towards his retreating form, not noticing your environment blurring past you as you tried to reach out your hand to him. “Jaehyun!” You cried, it seemed like he was getting further and further away. You tripped on your own feet, falling forward and catching yourself by putting your arms in front of you to break your fall.

“Are you okay?”

A pair of clean, expensive looking sneakers appeared in front of you and you gasped, snapping your head upwards to see the owner of the shoes.

Jaehyun… looked young. He was wearing something different now; a tailored dress shirt with an emblem on the front chest pocket and black slacks that you vaguely remembered as Kyeonggi’s uniform.

Jaehyun— You opened your mouth but nothing came out.

There were items scattered around the ground that weren’t there before. He had bent down and started to gather some of them up into his hands.

Jae, you screamed in your head, but the words that left your lips were different.

“I’m sorry.”

“Geez, watch where you’re going, bitch.” An unfamiliar voice snickered and you suddenly couldn’t move your head, as if it was perpetually bowed down.

“Shut up, Choi.” That was Jaehyun’s voice.

Their voices started to muffle afterwards. You kept your head down, but your eyes are straining to look around. This… felt familiar. This place… this situation…

This was… a memory.

Did you run into Jaehyun before college?

“Ignore him. Here.” Jaehyun handed you the items that had fallen from your shopping bag. His fingers gently ran across the side of your palms as he slowly retracted his hands.

“No, it’s okay.” You said, unknowingly.

You were grocery shopping and you had tripped over something — no, someone had tripped you. And then a boisterous chorus of laughter followed afterwards as your groceries spilled from your arms. You were embarrassed, refusing to look up at the strangers who decided to pick on you for some reason. You remembered rushing to gather everything up to leave while they kept laughing at you. But one of them got on his knee and helped you. You were too scared to look up back then, but if you had… would it have been Jaehyun in front of you that day?

You gasped, regaining your ability to move your head and quickly turning around when you felt a tap on your shoulder.

Jaehyun winced as your ponytail slapped him across the face, a little shocked and amused as he stifled his reaction as to not disturb the professor speaking in front of the class.

“I am so sorry.” You apologized immediately, holding down your hair to the side as if it could move on its own. You held your breath as you stared at Jaehyun.

You remembered this day like it was the back of your hand. You didn’t mean to sit at the back and you were straining yourself to focus on the professor’s voice as he introduced the subject but then you felt something on your shoulder and you were more focused on keeping your voice down to care about your hair possibly being a form of assault.

You thought he was cute… no, you distinctly recall brandishing your seatmate as the hottest boy you’ve ever laid your eyes on, but of course he’ll never know that and it’s not like you had a chance with him (as you thought so at the time).

He sheepishly smiled back at you, a palm resting on his cheek from where your hair had hit him.

Your lips started to drop down into a frown and Jaehyun mirrored this with his expression.

The world had stopped around you by now, it was dead silent — almost deafening.

“So even us meeting back here was all part of your plan?” You whispered, eyes watering at the memories of the records you had read off the files. “If we had already crossed paths way back, why didn’t you start there?”

When you blinked to let the tears fall, the college student Jaehyun you were seated beside was now present time Jaehyun, dressed in his usual black suit and tie. The fine lines he had accumulated as grew up weren’t visible, but they were there. 

You were now standing in front of each other, both of you crying. God, you thought, he owned your heart. You loved his very being and it hurts to know you need to learn how to stop from now on.

“I love you.” was all he said, voice soft like when you left him on the floor at the apartment. “And you love me, too, right?”

Your lips parted but nothing came out.

The Jaehyun in front of you made an expression of pure hurt and anguish, “You don’t love me anymore?”

You couldn’t even react properly because in a split second, you’re both back in his old college room as he spun around and punched the mirror on his bathroom door. 

“Stop!” You screamed, not wanting to relive this moment. As he winded back to take another swing, you reached for his arm to stop him but your hands phased right through him like a ghost. You could feel yourself panicking as your breath quickened.

Jaehyun punched the mirror once more and you could see the blood again — the ones staining the cracked glass, the drops on the floor, the fresh spill from his knuckles. Your stomach churned, “Jaehyun, stop!”

For a moment, you thought he had listened but then he bent down to grab a shard off the floor and placed it over his wrist. In a fluid motion, he swiped the sharp glass over his skin and you let out a shriek.

You gasped for air, eyes snapping open and a hand flying to your chest to grip your shirt.

It was just a dream, you reminded yourself. A horrible dream.

It took a few seconds to recollect yourself, placing the hand that was on your chest over to your face. You rolled to your side and sat up, hoping to see that you were at your parent’s house but the room didn’t look familiar.

It was a simple bedroom; it had a bed, a TV on the wall, and a small matching table and chair. No decorations, not even curtains. But then you took notice of the floor and the walls; it was bare. It was all concrete — not even brutalist.

Where were you? What happened last night—

Anxiety crept over you as you recalled your previous situation; you were running from a man — from someone you knew. Who was it? He had eventually caught up to you when you were barely halfway down the shortcut path, grabbing a handful of your hair. You had tried screaming the entire time but you were so out of breath that it barely came out. The last thing you could remember was a cloth coming over your mouth and something sweet yet medicinal invading both your sense of taste and smell.

You felt woozy, slumping your body back against the masked man, who stepped away to let you fall back on the dirt. You groaned, vision blurring as your eyelids felt heavier with every second. The man hovered over you, seeming to enjoy you losing consciousness.

He had removed his mask and even in the darkness, you could see him smile at you.

You knew that smile…

One of the doors in the room opened and you scooted further up the bed, eyes narrowing at the newcomer.

“Oh, you’re awake.” He had that same smile last night. He had a tray with a bowl and glass of water that he set on the small table. He glanced back at you and laughed, “Don’t worry, it’s not poisoned if that’s what you’re thinking. If I wanted to kill you, I could’ve done that a long time ago.”

His words haunted you — a long time ago? Like from the moment you met him?

“Why?” You asked, low and soft but enough for him to hear.

“Surely, you’re hungry, no? It didn’t seem like you had a bite to eat from yesterday—”

“No.” You interrupted him, although he was right. The scent of the food had finally reached you and caused your stomach to quietly growl, but you shook your head at him, “Why… are you doing this, Yuta?”

He flashed that shit-eating grin at you again and you’re learning to get annoyed at it more than fear it. He pulled the chair from under the table, swiveled it around so it faced you, and sat down. “Why not?”

His answer filled you with rage and it was evident on your face, “So you’re doing this for your own entertainment? For fun?”

Yuta pouted at you, “Hey, I saved you from marrying your stalker, [Y/N]. I think I deserve a ‘Thank you’ for that.”

“You don’t deserve shit.” You spat, “Answer the question: why are you doing this?”

He sighed, “He’s such a fascinating person, your fiance — oops, I mean… your ex-fiance.”

Tears welled up in your eyes at the truth but you held your ground.

Amused at your expression, Yuta continued, “He seemed so perfect — to the public eye. He’s young, wealthy, the sole heir to a multi billion company, and of course, in a long, loving relationship with his college sweetheart, his first love, [Y/N] [L/N].”

He stood up and walked to the window, peering outside. The smile on his face was long gone, he looked cold and stoic.

“Do you wanna know why I was chosen to be a representative of my company? It wasn’t because I already learned Korean. My father caught wind of the news about the CEO of Korea’s top casino stepping down soon to let his son take over. In our world,” He said this in a way that ostracized you, “that meant that someone inheriting a billion dollar company at such a young age — he had to be some sort of genius. So when an invitation was sent out to introduce Jaehyun to partners, stakeholders, stockholders, and the likes, my father immediately reserved his seat. He had to meet him.”

You knew about that event. Jaehyun initially wanted to invite you as his date but thought it best to forego the idea, you were still a bit shell shocked to know of his family background and business, let alone he was inheriting it. He also wanted to keep you and your relationship out of the public eye for the time being.

“And to say my father was impressed by him is an understatement. That man was absolutely smitten — so much so that all I heard for the following weeks is how he wished I was like him. How Jung Jaehyun was the son he always wanted.”

“So you came here to ruin his life?”

Yuta raised a brow at you, clearly annoyed. He strode over to the foot of the bed and leaned his torso towards you, “Shut the fuck up and let me finish, okay?”

You swallowed your saliva, pressing your lips together, and warily watched him erect his back before he continued to speak.

“My father sent me here, not only to do business and act as representative, but also befriend Jaehyun and quote-unquote learn a thing or two from him.” He shrugged his shoulders, “But Jaehyun’s so uptight — we’ve had this conversation before — he practically didn’t have a social life. So I quite literally took my father’s advice and decided to learn from Jaehyun — my way.”

The grin was back on Yuta’s face and this time it sent shivers down your spine.

“It was quite hard finding a private investigator willing to work against the Jungs, but you can buy anything these days, including loyalty. 30 million USD was all I needed. Go could retire early and provide for his grandkid’s grandkids. It’s a lot funnier because I only got in contact with Go because of Jaehyun.” He snickered, “So I had him investigated, like he did with you~”

This made you scowl but your reaction only made him laugh harder.

“Oh, if only you had seen my reaction when I went through his files. I was so… fascinated. Do you know that feeling when you find out about someone’s dirty little secret? How you could just gauge how much power you have over this person because of it? When you find out someone perceived as the epitome of being perfect — isn’t perfect at all? I wanted to laugh, too, because this is the guy my own father wanted to have as a son?” Yuta hollered, clapping his hands. “Oh, I wish I could see his face when I tell him Jaehyun and I are equally sick in the head.”

“What?” You asked before you could stop yourself.

Expecting him to get mad, you braced yourself in case he snapped at you but instead he hummed.

Yuta looked down at his pocket and fished out his phone, tapping away as if you weren’t there. Unsure of what to do, you sat in silence and waited for him to finish whatever he was focused on.

After a while, he made a sound of a mix of surprise and awe. He peers up at you through his lashes, that devious grin reappearing on his face. He cocked his head towards the television that opened all of a sudden and you guessed that it was connected to his phone. 

What came on screen didn’t make sense to you at first until you realized it was a camera feed and that it was in real time based off the emboldened ‘LIVE’ beside the red dot in the corner. It took another second for you to realize that it was coming from the CCTV of your old apartment’s living room.

Your stomach churned at the awareness of Yuta using his own business to spy on you and Jaehyun.

Something in the corner of the screen moved and you instantly recognized Jaehyun getting up from the dining table. He was still there? All the files were on the table as well. After a few seconds, he trudged away. 

Yuta tapped his phone and the scene changed: it was the common bathroom near the entrance of the apartment. You wanted to throw up, how was he even able to have that installed there when all of the bathrooms shouldn’t have a camera when they had him over?

Jaehyun appeared at the door of the bathroom, lazily flipping the lights on and standing in front of the mirror.

You had a horrible feeling stirring in your gut and in just a second, your fears were confirmed. “Stop!” You cried as if he could hear you as he punched the mirror. Your hand covered your mouth as the nightmare you just had unfolded on the screen in front of you. When Jaehyun held the glass to his wrist, you hated how vivid and high definition the video was that you had to bury your face in your palms.

You sobbed into your hands, not caring if Yuta would get annoyed. You’re scared to look up and to see the blood all over Jaehyun.

“Oh, don’t be so dramatic,” Yuta scoffed, “You act like you don’t know Jaehyun at all — oh, right. You don’t.”

Rage overcame you and you pulled your hands away from your face to glare at him. You wanted to say a lot of things that could potentially put your life at risk than it already was, but then you noticed Jaehyun was still standing in front of the broken mirror and the shard that was in his hand is with the rest in the sink.

“He’s not going to kill himself.” Yuta spoke up, “He’s going to figure out who sent you his shit and then find out you’re missing and eventually, look for you himself.”

You stared at him, allowing his words to repeat in your head over and over again.

“You’re… you’re using me as bait…”

Yuta clapped his hands, smiling like a child, “You’re so smart, [Y/N]. I almost thought Jaehyun kept you for the sex — which, by the way, is great porn materi—”

You hurled yourself at him, screaming and reaching for him with your hands ready to claw at his face, but he simply slapped you with the back of his hand. You fell back on the bed, pressing your cheek as it stung from the impact.

“I just said you were smart, [Y/N]. And what you did wasn’t so smart.” He said in a matter-of-fact tone. “It would be a lot better if he finds you alive so please don’t force my hand and attempt to kill you before that.”

The way he suggested killing you so coolly and nonchalant terrified you.

Peeking at him through your hair, you softly muttered, “He’s going to kill you. You’ve seen the files. When he figures out you did it… when he finds you… he’s going to kill you.”

He just simply smiled at you. “And I just can’t wait.”

a/n: are we all mentally ready for the last leg of devoted 2??

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next: part 17