Riverthunder

      Warning: This fan fiction contains sensitive material, such as vivid suicide fantasies and attempts, bullying, and depression. If you think this has any chance of triggering you in ANY way, DO NOT READ. Thank you.    It had been a week since Hero had started texting you. And honestly, you could say that your life was becoming much better because of him.     He continually encouraged you to do your chores and homework, and when you were done, telling you that you did a good job, and praising you, even though he wasn’t physically there. He always asked how your day was, and how you were doing. Always knew when you were lying, a

       “- and if you call now, you could save big! So call this number at –“     Your hand slumped against your alarm clock, successfully turning it off. Groaning, you rubbed your eyes of any sleep, and slowly hoisted yourself out of your warm cocoon of blankets. Shivering at the sudden lack of warmth, you quickly got up, or, well, as quickly as your sluggish legs could carry you, and headed into the bathroom, shutting the door behind you, and then turning on the shower.     Once you had peeled all of your clothes off, you carefully placed yourself under the warm water, letting it fall on your exposed skin, and then to

     You gasped as a body suddenly collided with your shoulder, causing you to stumble and drop all of your books and papers. As you lifted your head from the ground and looked up, you found that no one was looking down at you, waiting for their chance to apologize. Sighing, and thinking that you should have known better than to even hope that somebody had noticed you in your vulnerable state, you started to gather your fallen things up. You winced as you reached out with your right arm, since it had been the arm that you fell on. Ignoring the pain, you clumsily picked up your remaining things and stood up, careful to not hit anyone around yo

You where now in school and the thing you hated the most about it was the other kids your age. You where now [Age between 15-18] and in high school, the other girls in your classes though that they would be funny by starting to pick on you. Only...the girls got other kids in your school to start too and soon the whole school (except the faculty cuz they just ignore it) was picking on you. Making your life once again miserable. You thought you had escaped it when Oliver took you home with him that one day when you where 4 years old, but you guess not. This has been going on for about 5 months now and it was really taking a toll on you and you

A/N:Ummm I didn't say how old you are but probably around 4 years old since you can talk. You sat at home, alone like usual, waiting for your abusive parents to get home at the same time they usually do. Around 9:30 PM they would come home either drunk or high on something and then the would proceed to beat you until either you or them fell unconscious, normally them. 8:30 PM came around and your parents where home early, the smell of freshly baked goods came wafting through the house! Your mother came in first and came into the kitchen/Dinning room where you sat on the floor shaking violently. You look up at your mother who was obviously

    “New semester, you know what that means, right Arthur?" she calls to me a bit more cheerfully than I believe necessary. She rests her small hands on top of my atrociously plump arm. "Arthur?"     "What?" I reply in a tone more bitter than I normally carry.     (y/n) looks away from me, obviously hurt by my brusque approach. "I was asking you what class you have next period. You know...since our semester classes have changed."     I blush slightly at the thought of my next class. Should I even bother telling her? She'll probably end up thinking I'm more of a fatass than she already does. But her eyes are like those of a doe: bi

Jealous!Dark!America x Shy!Reader: The Hero Always Gets the Girl It was a peaceful late morning in your house. The air was still, the only noise was your humming which seeped into every room of your home, breathing life into the calm atmosphere. You were baking pancakes on one saucepan and cooking bacon on another; multi-tasking your breakfast was always an enjoyable challenge. You continued humming a joyful tune, bouncing excitedly on your tiled floor as you flipped your first batch of pancakes. Sparing glances at each pan, you turned to collect some plates and cutlery. Today, you had an extra set. This was because America was coming over

How could he have been so stupid? How could he have lost you? Gilbert cursed himself again and again as he made his way through the city streets. You had left him the day before in a fit of tears and fury after finding him in bed with an old flame of his. Elizabeta. She meant nothing to him, whereas you meant the world. And he had thrown it away, all for one hour with an ex. How unawesome of him. He hated himself for letting you go. Your smiles, your hair, the way you danced around the kitchen while making eggs, only to screak and laugh upon realizing that you had burned them. Of course, he would laugh along with you and plant a quick, sweet

“Cuuuuuuuggggggg” You woke up on what felt like tile. Your body felt like it fell five stories from some random building. Your head wasn’t any better and it took a lot of your energy to just raise your head up. You looked down to see that your body was laying on what appeared to be a multi-colored tile of pink, blue, yellow, and neon green. You looked around even more of your surroundings to see that the walls were purple, white, and magenta. Then the next thing you noticed was a stove and countertops for cooking. ‘Woah. I must be in someone’s kitchen… but whose kitchen?’ you wondered. Wanting to