#yellowroseswrites

Whore

Honestly you were so used to that comment. That's what everyone thought, even yourself most of the time.

Logically, you knew why you were like this. You had enough Psychology knowledge to understand the way trauma responses worked, and you knew full well that that's what this was.

But it was so much easier to just call yourself a slut and move on. You just liked it, you would tell yourself, It has nothing to do with anything they did to you.

So what if you wished you were innocent and naïve? So what if you wished you could just wear comfortable clothes? So what if you wished you weren't always thinking about sleeping with someone? So what if you wished you could erase every trace of porn from your memory? You were a whore, you couldn't change it, you couldn't excuse it.

Your roommate Spencer knew what people thought of you. He knew the rumors and he saw the glances. He didn't quite believe it all when he first moved in with you into your small shared apartment, but he quickly picked up on some of the signs.

There was that time when he offered to wash your clothes for you when you were sick. He didn't try to look, if anything he was putting them in the wash with his eyes half closed, but he couldn't help but notice that every one of your undergarments were frilly and lacey. Certainly you would get tired of wearing cute bras or own some underwear that wasn't a thong? Or maybe he just didn't know women as well as he thought? He brushed off that incident, until there were more.

Like when he looked through your bookshelf only to find every spicy scene highlighted or bookmarked. It wasn't his place to judge, and he didn't, but he could have sworn you said your favorite books were classic novels, and these certainly weren't.

Or when he found porn on your laptop. He, again, didn't judge, but he was confused. You would shutter at any sex scene on TV, and you couldn't stand the subject. Sure, people called you every name under the sun, but not Spencer. Spencer didn't think you were a slut, but he did think you were in pain. He just didn’t know how to bring it up to you, it certainly wasn’t roomate or coworker appropriate, it was barely even friend appropriate. There was a line he didn’t ever want to cross with you, in fear of making you uncomfortable, but he wanted nothing more than to help you.

I was a random friday when he somehow found the confidence, and audacity, to bring it up. You just got back from your afternoon run, in shorts that definetly showed more than you liked, and Spencer was cooking dinner for the two of you.

You untied your running shoes and placed them on the shoe rack near the door like you always do. You walked to the kitchen and basked in the lovely arauma, if their was anything you loved about being Reid’s roomate, it was definetly his cooking.

He told himself to be gentle, to not bring it up when it wasn’t the right time, but when has he ever held something important back?

“Do you like having sex?”

Woah, wow. That’s not how he meant that, but now it’s too far to go back. So he put the timer on for his water to come to a boil and he turned to face you and wait for your answer.

You were nothing less than taken aback by his question. You never discussed sex with Spencer, there was always a silent boundary on the subject. It wasn’t his business, you both knew that, so why did you want to answer honestly? You didn’t, you couldn’t. That’s a can or worms for a different day, with a therapist, who you didn’t live with. So you simply laughed it off.

“I mean, you’ve heard the rumors, I’m sure you’re smart enough to figure that out.” You said it as a joke, Spencer didn’t laugh, he simply shifted his feet a bit.

“I am smart enough to figure it out. Except the answer I came up with, is that you don’t like it.”

You laughed again, this time shifting your eyes to the ground. Two psycho-analyzers living together had it’s quirks, such as exposing each other’s darkest secrets on accident.

“Come on Spencer, I’m like, a slut. Of course I do.” You were still smiling, mostly to deflect.

“Don’t say that.” He was serious. You certainly wish he wasn’t, but fine. If he wanted to be serious, you would be serious.

“It’s true.” You were surrounded by criminals on a daily basis, lying was second nature to you.

Reid wasn’t having it, “No, y/n, it’s not. You’re not a slut, you’re not a whore, you’re not just some sex toy to be traded from person to person.”

“My sex life is none of your business. I can sleep with whoever I want to-”

“That’s the thing! You don’t want to sleep with them. You don’t want to be looked at like that. You don’t want to consume any of the content that you’ve been looking at. I know you don’t.” He kept a steady voice, but a dominate one nonetheless. He let everything just roll of his tongue, as though he didn’t just send a wrecking ball through every wall you’ve built up since you were a child.

You couldn’t find words, you couldn’t come up with a lie or excuse, you couldn’t figure out how to let out the truth, you simply stood in your astonished silence. 

Spencer looked at your face, searching for any sign of emotion, but you stood still as a statue. 

“Look, y/n, I didn’t mean to-”

“I’m a slut.” Your voice cracked when you spoke, almost like Reid’s heart when he heard it.

“No, no my love you aren’t.”

“No. That’s what I am. That’s what I do, that’s what I’m good at. I-It’s what I’m good at. I’m good for sex, that’s what I’m good at.” Your gaze fell back to the floor as you spoke, your words quickly becoming muddled and rambled. Your body started shaking as you spoke, causing Spencer to quickly make his way to your side.

“Slut, I’m a slut Spence, it’s what I’m good at. It’s okay, I’m okay with it, I promise. I know, I know I am. It doesn’t bother me-”

“Shhh, Breathe honey. Come on, deep breath in-” Spencer breathed with you until you steadied yourself. You gathered your thoughts and your feelings. You tried to gather the pieces of the wall Reid broke, desperate to put it back together, but when you looked back up at Spencer, you let it all go again. He made you feel safe, that’s all that you wanted.

“I can’t stop it Spence.” Your voice was soft. You were letting go of something you held onto for so long. Soemthing you hid behind, something you felt comfort in, you just placed it down in front of him. You felt bare, naked, and yet somehow felt more comfortable than you ever have before. You could breathe easier. Someone knew now, someone knew you.

“We’re gonna get you some help. Okay?” You replied with a nod before wrapping your arms around him. He placed a kiss on your head before speaking again, 

You were stressed. You were always stressed, but today was especially bad. You weren't even quite sure why. The only thing you wanted was to lay in your boyfriends arms, and well, maybe smoke a little. He would let you, of course. He loves you, he wouldn't tell you no, would he?

You got home to a lovely Remus sitting on the couch waiting patiently for you. You quickly made your way over to him, your body finding its way to his as you wrapped your arms around him.

"Remy," You whined, "Can you roll me one of those things." You couldn't even think of the terminology, you just knew that you needed something to distract yourself with.

Remus looked down at you and sat you down on the couch that he was on. He turned his head slightly, "And why do you need that dove?" He was genuinely confused, you never had much interest in smoking before.

"I dont know," you admitted, "I just need something."

Remus started to get concerned, "How about we get you something to eat instead?"

Your faced scrunched up as you shook your head, "Please?"

"No," Remus said, "Not tonight okay?"

You knew he was doing the right thing. You knew you shouldn't, but man, his no made you mad. It was too much, you had a long day and now your boyfriend wants to control you. He wants to make decisions for you. He can't do that. He can't tell you what not to do, he isn't the boss of you. You can do whatever you want, you can make your own decisions.

"Hey, hey, hey," Remus' hand was on your shoulder, "Breathe Dove"

You blinked once, twice, three times and looked into his eyes.

"It's okay love just breathe. How about we get some rest yea?"

You didn't even answer before he grabbed your hand and led you to his bed. He grabbed a ponytail from the nightstand and gently tied your hair up. He pulled the blankets over you after you made yourself comfortable. He turned the lights off and laid down, placing a quick kiss on your cheek before finally relaxing next to you.

“I’m not hungry.”

God, it sounded so sad on your tongue. You wished you could just eat, you really did. You weren’t like you used to be, you didn’t want to be like this. You just wanted to eat.

Spencer’s face fell, but only a bit. He was used to this by now to, your body working against you. Your body craved things that would destroy it, but it refused to accept the things it needed, like food. It was scary for you, and it was positively horrifying for Spencer. He was watching you fight back, but wither away anyway, and he hated it.

"I know you aren't, but it's important that you eat it."

You groaned in annoyance. You knew Spencer was helping, but it was the same thing you've heard over and over again.

Reid seemed to think a bit before moving again, this time pouring milk into his own bowl before putting away the milk and the cereals, (fruit loops for you and raisin bran for him, which he insists helps him remember things during cases).

He came back to his bowl and started eating in front of you, "You like Tarantino movies right?"

"Uh, some of them, why?"

While you spoke he took a bite of his food, signaling with his spoon for you to do the same. Once you grabbed your spoon, he spoke again.

"Did you know that almost every clock in Pulp fiction is set to 4:20? Some people have said that they only have 2 scenes where they are set differently, but to be honest I've never seen it so I wouldn't know."

"Wait a minute," You said, "You have never seen Pulp Fiction?"

"That's what you got from that?"

"Who hasn't seen Pulp Fiction? It's a classic!" You took another bite of the cereal.

"That's what you said about Dead Poets Society." Spencer replied.

To be fair, he had read the book. He knew everything that would happen, it was definitely not your fault he spent the whole time pointing out things they got wrong. You simply nodded your head at his reply, messing with the fruit loops left spinning in your bowl.

"Wanna take one more bite for me?" 

There was barely any left in the bowl, half of you wanted to fight back, and half knew it was stupid and that Reid wanted the same thing you did. You took the bite and slid the bowl over to him, which he quickly took with his to the sink. 

"Ok," You stood up from your seat at the table, "We are totally going to watch it now."

Spencer giggled at your excitement, walking over to you and kissing your forehead. "Uh-hu. Go turn it on, I'll be in in a second."

You turned to walk over to the couch when Reid stopped you again, 

"And hey, I'm proud of you."

There was no one in this world that you loved more than Jonathan Byers. He meant everything to you. He accepted you for who you were, and that mattered more to you than anything else.

You can remember clearly how it felt when he realized there was something off about you. You can remember how you were certain he would leave you. You remember telling him about your ADHD and being scared that he would think differently of you. You remember describing what it was like to live the way you live, with feeling nervous and fidgety for no apparent reason. You thought you were too much for him, you had too many things wrong with you.

And you can remember the indescribable peace you felt when he held your hands and told you he loved you. Even with your faults, though he would never see them as such. It was all you. He promised himself that he would never let you think less of yourself for things you couldn’t control. 

That’s not to say it was easy, because it wasn’t. It still isn’t. But Jonathan’s effort to help will always have you falling for him all over again. He spends his time watching and noticing, picking up on ways he can help you.

Sometimes it’s small things, one’s that you don’t even pick up on. He’ll buy you new rings and bracelets, ones with beads and charms that you can fidget with. He’ll place rubber pieces to the ends of your pencils for you to chew on to keep your pretty little nails intact. He rubs his hand along your back when bouncing your knee, keeping you calm but never making you stay still. He lets you run your fingers through his hair when you need to do something with your hands. He keeps the temperature cooler when he knows you’re coming over, afraid you’ll overthink and overheat. 

Sometimes it’s bigger things, things that make you feel like a burden. He’ll stay over at your place when you can’t fall asleep, or drive you around until your eyes flutter closed. He’ll leave with you if you get overwhelmed, anytime and anywhere. He always asks you before inviting someone else to hang out with yall, you’re always his first priority. He would shut someone up immediately if they said anything bad about you or the way you were acting.

You had only told a few of your friends. You tended to avoid the subject, you didn’t like the way people would view you differently or the way they would treat you. You didn’t want to hear about how you should ‘take a deep breath’ or ‘just sit still’. Many people just didn’t understand, but Jonathan did.

Today was a particularly bad day. You woke up and the temperature was too hot in your room. When you wake up warm, your day is wrong, that’s how it works. You don’t know why and you always try to get past it, but your bad day usually continues to persist.

You didn’t want to brush your teeth. You weren’t too tired, or too lazy, you just felt like you couldn’t. You saw the toothbrush, and you saw the toothpaste, and you couldn’t. So, you went to your kitchen to grab something for breakfast, maybe something to kickstart your day, but nothing seemed appealing.

Finally, you simply settled in your bed. You laid down and stared at your ceiling while you let your thoughts run freely. You heard the phone ring but you couldn’t get up to get it. You couldn’t do anything but stare and think and run your hands along your blankets. You weren’t aware of how much time had passed before you heard a small knock at your door.

“Come in”

The door creaked slightly and you heard a familiar set of footsteps approach you.

“Bad day sweetheart?” Jonathan asked as he sat down on your bed, weighing down the left side and causing you to roll a little bit.

You laughed as you sat up and motioned for Jonathan to lie down. He laid back against your lap, your hands soon finding their way to his hair. 

“I’m fine.”

Even with his face being upside down for you, you could tell he didn’t believe you. He hummed before he responded,

“You sure? You didn’t answer my call and you didn’t eat breakfast.”

“How do you even know that?”

“When you eat breakfast, you have a snack right after, or chew gum. You have to keep chewing.” He replied casually, as though he didn’t just call out a specific detail a normal person would never take notice of.

It scared you a bit, and yet it didn’t surprise you at all. He always noticed things that you thought people would try to ignore. He never once judged you or tried to ‘save’ you, he only asked how he could help, and sometimes he knew you better than you knew yourself.

You were quiet while you thought, though your hands were still brushing through the boy's hair. You sighed before you spoke, “Don’t you ever get tired of me?”

Jonathan sat up at that and turned to face you, “Why would you think that?” His hands found yours before you could bring your nails to your mouth.

“I just, I don’t know, I’m a very tiring person I guess. It wouldn’t hurt my feelings if you ever thought I was too much.” It most certainly would hurt your feelings, but you wouldn’t say that.

He took in a breath, you could see in his eyes he was a little hurt.

Of course, you thought, he is tired of me. I gave him an out and he’s going to take it.

“Oh honey,” here it is, “I could never get tired of you.”

Oh

“Nothing you do is ‘too much’. You mean everything to me, I could never think of you like that.”

It’s moments like this that make you wonder how you were so lucky as to have Jonathan in your life. You don’t say anything back, you just allow his words to fill your mind. You take a moment to believe them. Even if you don’t feel that way about yourself, you know he wouldn’t lie to you. 

Jonathan seems to know that that’s all you needed to hear. He also knows he’ll have to tell you again, and again, and again, but he doesn’t mind. He’ll tell you forever if you needed him to.

It had been four hours. Four full hours of you scrolling through tiktok only to find every girl who was prettier, skinnier, and better than you. You had tears in your eyes, but you couldn't find it in you to stop scrolling. You had to figure out how they did it, you need to know how to make yourself look like they did and talk like they did and smile like they did and walk like they did and move like they did. You had to make yourself be like them.

James knocked gently on the bathroom door, "Baby," he started, "It's been awhile, are you okay?"

Of course you weren't okay. They were pretty. They were skinny. They has straight teeth. They weren't sitting alone on the cold bathroom floor praying that they could fall asleep and wake up in a different body.

"Love?"

And James, poor James. He's so perfect, so correct. He deserved a pretty girlfriend, He deserved someone who could make him feel good. Someone who wouldn't hurt him when they sat on him, someone who knew what they were doing and could do anything they set their mind to.

"I'm coming in okay?" 

The door knob clicked as it opened. You didn't hear it. You couldn't see the concerned look on James' face through your tears. You couldn't feel his hands on your shoulder, in fact, the only thing you could feel was the bile raising in your throat. You felt weird, you felt gross. You felt so full of hatred towards yourself and you didn't know where to put it. You didn't know what to do with it.

"Hey, look at me. What's wrong?"

You looked at him, but it only made you feel worse. He was so pretty. You focused on the feeling of his hand on your shoulder. It was a nice hand, a great hand even. You didn't deserve that hand.

All of a sudden all that you could think of was to get away from him. You were going to contaminate him with your grossness. You couldn't do that. You pulled your shoulder closer toward yourself and pulled your knees up into a ball. When James tried to move closed you swatted at him with your arms,

"No, no, no, g- go away."

You could barely get words out. You didn't want to speak. You didn't have a good enough voice to speak. You wanted to be gone, you wished more than anything that you could disappear. You put your head against your knees and cried. You cried and you cried and you cried and you didn't stop.

James didn't try to touch you again. He sat back against the wall opposite of you and cried with you. He didn't cry because he didn't want you. He didn't cry because you swatted him away. He cried because you were in pain and he didn't know how to make it stop.

Mental health, Depression, SH, etc.

Mental health helpline directory

International helplines

Where to get help for SH

Depression hotline numbers

Helplines for panic and anxiety

Telling someone about your mental health 

Telling someone you’re engaging in SH

Discrimination, Bullying, Racism, etc.

Racial Equity Support Line

Stop Bullying

What is ableism?

The Six started out as a blues-rock band called the Dunne Brothers in the mid-sixties out of Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. Billy, Graham, and Y/n Dunne were raised by single mother, Marlene Dunne, after their father, William Dunne Sr., left in 1954.

Billy Dunne: I was seven when Dad left, Graham and Y/n were five. All he left was an old Silvertone guitar and Graham and I would fight over who got to play it. Playing that thing was about all we did. Nobody taught us, we taught ourselves, and Mom made us teach Y/n. Once I got older, I would hang around after school and mess around with the piano in the chorus room. 

Eventually, when I was about fifteen or so, Mom saved up and bought us an old Strat for Christmas. The twins fought over that one, so I left it in their hands. I kept the Silvertone.

Graham Dunne: Once Billy and I each had a guitar, we started writing songs. Me and Y/n shared the Strat technically, but once she got into writing she didn’t play it anymore. When Billy wasn’t home, she would play his Silvertone. She always loved that guitar.

Y/n Dunne: I suppose every little sister steals her brother’s things. I really don’t know why  I liked that guitar so much. Billy used to say I just liked having things that weren’t mine. I think I just wanted to be like him back then.

Graham: Billy got really into songwriting. All he would talk about was Bob Dylan. He would come to our room with notebooks filled with lyrics he had written.

Billy: Just like everything else I did, Y/n started doing the same. 

Y/n: Just like everything else I did, Billy took the credit.

Graham: I never got in the way of Billy and Y/n, but the older we got, the more they would fight. I never fought with either of them, but me and Billy were brothers and me and Y/n were twins, so I guess there was always more of a connection with me than with each other.

In 1967 they brought on drummer Warren Rojas and bassist Eddie Roundtree.

Warren Rojas: A drummer needs a band. It’s not like a singer or a guitarist, you can’t play by yourself. I lived in the same neighborhood as the Dunne’s and they heard me play from my dad’s garage a few times, so they asked me if I wanted in.

Billy: Warren kind of fell into our laps, he was easy and he was good. I knew we needed a bassist, and the twins knew a guy. I don’t remember why I trusted them. Y/n: Eddie was a friend of ours from school. Well, technically he was a friend of Graham at school. 

Graham: Me and Eddie were close, closer than him and Y/n appeared to be.

Billy: We started practicing as a band, day in and day out. We were always in our garage playing songs over and over again.

Graham: I mean, what else were we gonna do? None of the guys had been dating anyone except Billy, and he never cared about his girlfriends back then, practically had a new one each week.

Billy: At some point Y/n started missing practices to hangout with some guy, I don’t remember his name. I certainly remember when they broke up though.

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“You son of a bitch!” Y/n’s yell stopped the boys in their tracks. She had missed a rehearsal again to hangout with her boyfriend, though it didn’t take long for her to come back. She made a beeline for the garage where the boys were practicing. Billy went to reply, assuming she was yelling at him, but before he could say anything Y/n stormed past him, only stopping when she cornered Eddie.

“Who the fuck do you think you are? You wanna go around pretending like you own me?” She rambled. Graham grabbed her and pulled her back, “Calm down! What are you going on about?” 

“Eddie threatened my boyfriend! Said if he didn’t leave me alone that my brothers and their friends were gonna do something about it.” She pulled herself out of Graham’s hold after he loosened it. The rest of the group looked at Eddie, mostly in confusion. It was no secret that Eddie liked Y/n, it seemed everyone knew it except Eddie himself. He just had a terrible way of showing it.

“He was a total dickhead, I was doing you a favor.” Eddie spoke, far too casually for Y/n’s liking. “That was my choice to make, not yours! It’s my life Eddie!” She screamed back, tears rimmed her eyes as she bordered a breakdown. Graham gently pulled her aside, helping her inside of the house before he came back out.

“What were you thinking man?” Warren turned to Eddie, “I know you like her but that was so not cool.” Before Eddie could reply, Billy spoke up as well, “I hated the guy too, but even I’ll admit that was idiotic.”