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redhoodieone · 3 years

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You’re so Lucky!

A/N: Hey y’all! Here’s another sexy story that was a request from the amazing @jasontoddslut! Enjoy my peeps!

Warnings: Language, Bad Relationship with Ex-Boyfriend, Smut, Voyeurism, and Jason’s Goddamn Dirty Mouth!!!!!

It was bound to happen. She couldn’t deny this was going to happen sooner rather than later. If she believed they that they could get through their issues and be happy like they once were, then she’s a real fucking idiot.

Gabi still couldn’t believe it though. One minute she was trying to calm Bobby down and the next, he’s screaming at her and telling her to get the fuck out of his apartment. He was in a bad mood to begin with. He’s a mechanic and he’s always tired when he gets home. He was expecting dinner to be ready and maybe have his loving girlfriend of three years rub his back since his shoulder pain is getting worse.

But no. Gabi made the mistake of asking Bobby where he was tonight as soon as he got home.

What set him off was her telling him to calm down. She should have known though.

You should NEVER. EVER. Tell an easily angry guy to calm down.

Because that’s like telling fire to not burn people. Or telling a baby to not cry.

She should have known better though. It’s no surprise Bobby’s into some serious shady shit that the low life Gothamites meet up sometimes at night in casinos or nightclubs. She knows they do illegal shit like selling drugs, ordering weapons from other countries, and maybe even kidnapping young women and children.

And Bobby had participated in the ordering weapons category.

How Gabi found out is another story: she knows for damn sure that Bobby once brought home fifteen state of the art total militia AK-47 guns. Bobby had foolishly asked Gabi to go get some important documents from his huge safe; totally forgetting the weapons were in there about five months prior.

Why would a normal mechanic need such weapons?

Gabi had decided to never bring it up. Bobby would either deny or lie about it. His temper had been getting worse right about then and she knew better.

But he wasn’t always like this. Oh, no. Bobby was a funny, laid back, and loving type who worshipped the ground Gabi walked on before they even started dating. But after two years of living with each other, things changed.

Simple as that. Things changed.

Gabi always wondered how things could just...change. So easily. The fact that it could happen in the blink of an eye frightens her sometimes.

Just like Bobby’s hidden anger. She never knew a hilarious and sweet guy could have the rage of a bull.

Bobby never hit her though. He always made sure to slam his fist against the wall beside her head, though. He was the type to yell and belittle Gabi as if she was a little girl.

But she wasn’t a little girl. She was a 23-year-old woman who moved in with her boyfriend so fast that she began to understand why her parents and friends disapproved of her choices and relationship.

I just had to learn the hard way, Gabi thought to herself.

She doesn’t know why she’s trying to think of sayings that relate to this experience. The point is, Gabi knows she seriously fucked. With Bobby only giving her ten minutes to pack whatever truly mattered to her, she had to hurry the fuck up.

The moment she made it outside the apartment building, all Gabi could do is replay her questions that she asked Bobby.

Where were you tonight?

Were you with someone?

What did you do?

Why can’t you tell me what you did?

Are you hiding something from me?

Are you getting into dangerous things?

No wonder Bobby kicked her out. Gabi should have never put her nose in his business. And now, she’s practically homeless. She knows it would be embarrassing as hell to go back to her parents’ house because of what they told her before getting involved with Bobby. She also knows her friends would treat her horribly, with the “I told you so” stares and lectures. Gabi was certainly running out of options just as the rain began to fall.

There was one person she could go to, who would never turn her away.

However, Gabi hasn’t spoken to this person in about a year because of her relationship with Bobby as well as this person’s own relationship with their significant other.

But Gabi knew Y/N was a good person, a good friend. She was a sweet person, with a big warm heart and she would never turn her away.

With nowhere else to go, Gabi walked alone in the rain all the way down to high class side of Gotham.

By the time Gabi gets to the high-class penthouses, she has to call Y/N to let her inside. Of course, Y/N excitedly tells her to come up, and Gabi immediately starts to feel somehow relieved that Y/N hasn’t changed at all.

As Gabi finally makes it to the correct floor, she sees Y/N waiting by the door, where Gabi assumes is where Y/N lives. Y/N is wearing a red and black flannel pajama pants and a thin black tank top. Gabi also notices Y/N’s barefoot, and her hair’s in a messy bun.

She must have just woken up. I’m so sorry, Y/N, Gabi thinks to herself.

But none of that matters when Y/N meets Gabi halfway in the hall where they collide in a tight, warm-hearted embrace. Y/N smells like a woodsy, musky cologne, most likely from whoever she’s seeing with now. Maybe they were snuggling up against with each other until Gabi had called and asked if she could come over.

“Come inside. You must be freezing!” Y/N says, releasing Gabi from her hug and pulling her arm towards the front door.

Gabi follows on shaky legs, completely overwhelmed by seeing her longtime best friend. Y/N giggles and leads Gabi inside the penthouse. Gabi instantly is hit by the aroma of vanilla and musk, the smell of intimacy and seduction. Her eyes take in the red and black walls and décor, some exquisite art pieces, and the big space that is more comfortable and warmer than most homes she’s ever seen.

“Welcome, mi casa es tu casa! Seriously Gabi, babe, make yourself at home. There’s absolutely no rush to leave. You leave when you’re ready, okay?” Y/N says seriously.

“Are you absolutely sure? I really don’t want to impose or put you and your boyfriend out,” Gabi confesses.

Y/N leads Gabi to the long, cherry red couch that is facing a huge flat screen TV. Gabi sets down her duffle bag and takes a seat next to Y/N on the couch.

“Don’t be ridiculous! Jay and I insist you stay here until you figure out what you want to do, okay?” Y/N says, before she turns around to get comfortable to face Gabi.

A vanilla candle is lit on the coffee table. Gabi’s cheeks flush in embarrassment. “I didn’t...interrupt something, did I?”

“Oh, no, you didn’t! I was just setting the mood in the living room to be more...comfy,” Y/N admits, with a chuckle. “Jason just got home a few minutes ago and is taking a shower. He should be done by now.”

As if on cue, they hear someone walking down the hall and towards the living room. He stops near the couch. There in all his glory, well half-naked glory, stands Jason Todd, God’s greatest creation of man...at least that’s what both girls were thinking.

“Gabi, this is Jason, my boyfriend,” Y/N proudly introduces Jason to Gabi. “Jay, this is Gabi, my best friend in the whole wide world.”

Still dripping wet and fresh out of the shower, Jason at least has a white towel wrapped around his waist; hiding his goods that Gabi wanted to see so desperately. He’s really tall, must be 6’2 or something close to that. She takes note that Jason is all man: there’s absolutely nothing that screams “boy”. Gabi inhales hard when she watches his large hand run through his soaked dark hair. The other hand holds the towel tightly around his hips.

“Hi,” Jason smirks at Gabi. She notices his eyes are green, almost like emeralds. He smiles at her, even his white teeth are perfect. “So, you’re Gabi. Y/N’s told me a lot about you.”

“She-she has?” Gabi chokes out. Why is it so hot in here? Why can’t she speak?

Her eyes zero in on the droplets of water running down his strong as fuck built chiseled chest and perfectly sculpted abs that she really wants to lick and bite his skin.

Holy fuck...

Gabi scolds herself for thinking such inappropriate thoughts about her best friend’s boyfriend. Even though Gabi’s never fantasized Bobby this kind of way, she realizes Y/N’s lucked out. Bobby wasn’t in shape or even remotely attractive like Jason.

“Of course, she has. You’re one of her best friends, and I’m happy to finally meet you. I would go over there to shake your hand and properly greet you, but I’m uh...not exactly dressed yet,” Jason chuckles, and almost seems shy now. “I’m gonna go get dressed real quick so we can talk.”

You don’t have to. You can stay the way you are. You can even drop the towel, Gabi thinks improperly.

Y/N smiles softly at Jason as they watch him leave. True to his word, Jason returned in a pair of black sweatpants and a white t-shirt and took a seat next to Y/N. Throughout their comfortable and pleasant conversation, Gabi truly sees the way Jason cares about her best friend. Midway through their talk about what happened to Bobby, Jason clearly was paying attention and rubbed caressed Y/N’s thigh when Gabi recounted the latest scary fight with Bobby. Whenever Y/N looked shocked or worried, Jason made sure to calm her down through touches, forehead kisses, and whispers words along the lines of love, probably.

It almost makes Gabi jealous. Y/N’s life is clearly so much better than what Gabi had going on for herself. Jason seems like the perfect gentleman; always does and says the right thing. Gabi’s never seen a man pay so much attention to a woman before. Not only did he offer Gabi his advice and opinions on getting a better and more affordable apartment on their street, but Jason even voiced his hatred for Bobby, and even went on to criticize the man for treating women so poorly. He even made a joke about finding the man and breaking his legs; making Gabi and Y/N laugh their asses off and making the energy around them fun again.

But for some reason, Gabi couldn’t help but notice that Jason wasn’t laughing as hard as she and Y/N were. It almost seemed like Jason was serious about breaking Bobby’s legs, but Jason wouldn’t do that. She was sure of it.

He wouldn’t, would he?

By the time midnight came, the three of them stood up and decided to go to bed. Jason even surprised Gabi by giving her a hug and telling her that she can stay in their guest bedroom for however long as she wants and needs.

“I’m serious, kid. Don’t even worry about it. You mean so much to Y/N, and so therefore, you mean a lot to me, too,” Jason had said as he pulled back from their hug.

Gabi was speechless to say the least. She didn’t want the hug to end. He felt so good in her arms and he smelled so fucking good.

But it was bedtime now, and once Y/N and Jason had shown Gabi the guest bedroom, they went off to bed to let Gabi get comfortable. It wasn’t long for Gabi to quickly clean herself up and put on some plain pajama shorts with a tank top. As soon as she turned off the light, she was amazed by how big and comfortable the bed was. She figured it must be new and is probably the first person to sleep in here. In just a few minutes, exhaustion took over and Gabi fell into a deep sleep.

Her throat was dry. That’s what awoke Gabi at two in the morning and made her climb out of bed and go search for a bottle of water. She made sure to tiptoe out of the room and walk slowly and quietly to the kitchen.

As soon as Gabi made it to the end of the hallway, she stops dead in her tracks when she hears moaning. A woman moaning.

Her mind registers that it’s Y/N moaning. But why is she moaning in the living room?

Curiosity forces Gabi to peek out into the living room and see what’s going on, despite the logical part in her mind is screaming at her to have some respect for her best friend and her boyfriend.

But being a pervert outweighs being a prude.

Gabi is utterly shocked to her core when she sees her best friend straddling Jason’s lap. On the red couch where they sat a couple of hours ago, Gabi sees Y/N and Jason making out heavily. She couldn’t unsee it; she wants to keep watching them.

Gabi even sees the vanilla candle is lit again, after Jason had blown it out before they all went to bed.

But all Gabi could see is Jason’s fingertips digging hard into Y/N’s exposed flesh from where her tank top is pushed up above her bare tits. Y/N shamelessly moans in between the evident delicious kisses, and grinds against Jason’s apparent bulge.

Gabi quickly notices an isolated leather recliner that’s against the wall near the hallway. She throws herself down, sinks into the chair and watches the practically live porno show in front of her.

Jason pulls back from the deep kiss, revealing his red, swollen lips from where Y/N’s been biting and sucking since the beginning. He rests his head back against the couch and looks up with hazy, lustful eyes as Y/N grins down at him. She bites her bottom lip and pulls up her tank top, removing her top completely from her body.

“Fuck...what the hell are you doing to me, sweetheart?” Jason asks breathlessly. He runs his hands up Y/N’s back and moves them to her front where he reaches for both her tits.

“I’m slowly...and softly killing you,” Y/N says, closing her eyes and moans when Jason gently grabs both her tits in his hands; her breasts fill his hands perfectly.

“I’d say...” he says, before sighing contently when switches from pinching her nipples to squeezing her tits before he sits up straighter and pulls Y/N’s body closer to lick and suck her sensitive nipples.

“Oh, fuck...oh Jay...feels so good,” Y/N moans louder than before. She whimpers and continues to rub herself against him. “I need to cum...please make me cum, Jay...”

Jason pulls back from her chest and gazes into Y/N’s eyes. “You wanna cum, doll? Do you want me to make you cum?”

“Yes, please...I need you so bad!”

“No, I don’t think you need to cum,” Jason teases, before he pulls off his own t-shirt. “Now, I’m going to take off the rest of your clothes, but if you touch your pussy, I ain’t going to fuck you.”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?!” Y/N snaps. Her cheeks are flushed from being aroused.

Jason smirks at Y/N’s frustration.

“You know exactly what I’m talking about, sweetheart. I’m going to check how wet you are,” Jason explains, as he raises Y/N off his lap to pull down her pajama pants and panties; leaving her completely bare on his lap. “If you’re soaking wet, then I’m gonna fuck you so hard that you’ll be feeling me for days. But if I have to make you wet, then that means I get to do whatever I want to this pussy.”

“But-”

Jason runs his hand up Y/N’s thigh until his fingers glide over her bare pussy. His fingers gently push inside her, he can feel the wetness, but wants to see it for himself.

“Stand up and put your pussy in my face,” he demands.

“What?”

“I want to taste your delicious pussy right now. Don’t make me get up and literally put you on my shoulders to eat you out,” Jason threatens.

Y/N slowly moves to stand up carefully on the couch. Her legs are shaking, but Jason quickly grabs her to hold her steady. He doesn’t waste any time, and he dives into her pussy as if he’s a starving man.

“Oh fuck!” Y/N cries out.

Jason’s tongue on her clit is what she wants the most right now. He squeezes her thigh and flicks his tongue side to side until Y/N fears she’s either going to fall back or fall over him.

Y/N notices one of Jason’s pull up bars is above her. How convenient.

She grabs a hold of the bar to hold herself up just as he decides to slip a finger inside her. Holding herself up allows him to remove a hand from her thigh. He takes the opportunity to slip another finger inside and pumps them in and out fast.

Y/N’s body trembles when Jason curls his fingers and strokes the sensitive wall that he’s mastered so well. He can tell she’s close. She must have been excited earlier when they planned to stay in last minute. He manages to look up at her and he can see she’s barely holding on.

“You’re so close aren’t you, babe? You taste so fucking good that I want you to cum on my face. I want you to be my dirty girl tonight,” Jason says as he finger-fucks her harder and faster than before. “Are you going to be my dirty girl tonight?

“Yes! Fuck yes! Just-just make me cum, please!” Y/N cries out desperately, needing the push that Jason could only give her.

“You are my dirty girl. You love it when I make you cum with just my fingers and mouth. But I bet you want my cock right after, huh?” Jason asks, chuckling darkly when Y/N’s eyes roll back when he speeds up his fingers inside her. “You wanna ride me, don’t you?”

“Yes-yes I do...” she’s panting now.

“Okay, I want you to cum in my face and then quickly get on my lap and ride me. Fast, slow, hard, whatever, you pick. I just want to feel your warm, tight pussy around my dick, okay?” Jason says, quickly shoving his sweatpants and boxers down to his feet. “Fuck...give me your pretty, tasty pussy, sweetheart!”

And then Jason finally gives in. He pulls both her thighs to bring her pussy to his face. Y/N whimpers when he licks all around her wetness, and he hums in approval when he feels her hand stroking his scalp and pulling his hair, while she continues holding herself up with only one hand now.

The vibration from his humming helps her reach her release. He continues to thrust his fingers inside her and sucks her clit until she gushes in his face.

Y/N manages to silent most of her orgasm, but it didn’t help when Jason continued to lick and suck at her clit to swallow most of her juices. Once her body relaxes, she lets go of the pull up bar and drops down to the couch. Y/N quickly straddles Jason’s lap until her pussy is hovering above his hard cock.

“Spit on my cock, doll. Get it nice and wet,” Jason says, as he watches Y/N spit in her hand and stroke his thick cock until he’s nice and ready for her. “How are you going to ride me, sweetheart?”

Y/N slowly looks up into Jason’s dilated, misty eyes. “Deep. Hard. And fast,” she says.

Jason swallows hard but is able to quickly smirk up at Y/N before she takes full control. “Then ride me, sweetheart. Fuck yourself on my cock like the dirty girl you really are.”

Y/N finally lowers herself onto Jason’s cock, all logic and common sense flies out the window. Whenever his cock was deep inside her, they both tend to lose themselves and the world around them. Because whenever they were connected emotionally and physically in their bubble, nothing else fucking matters in the world.

When Jason fills her up completely, they both release a content sigh. They usually take their time in the beginning, mostly because of their fears whenever Jason leaves to work as Red Hood. But since they’re both so horny and want to cum sooner, they’ll have to just take their time during round two.

“Fuck me, sweetheart. Fuck yourself silly on my dick,” Jason moans, but he and Y/N laugh at the “silly” part, when he realizes that’s not very sexy.

But Y/N understands and slowly lifts herself up his lap until just the tip of Jason’s cock is inside her. She keeps a steady pace, lifting herself and lowering herself, until their rhythm flows. Within seconds, Jason helps her by holding her hips tightly and thrusting his hips in time with hers.

“Your cock is so big inside me, Jay. You fill me up so good,” Y/N moans and rides him a little faster; wanting the head of his cock to rub hard and relentlessly against her g-spot. She guides one of his hands off her waist to move towards her pussy, encouraging him to rub her clit. “I wanna cum again, Jay.”

“Yeah? You like ridin’ my big cock, you dirty girl? You want me to fill your pussy with my cum?” Jason asks, watching Y/N’s tits bounce while she rides his cock faster than before. He can’t help himself, he uses a free hand to pinch her nipple and leans in to bite and suck her breasts, until he puts his hand back to her hip to guide her thrusts. “You want me to fill you up with my cum?”

“Yes! Yes, please!” Y/N begs.

“Okay, my dirty girl. I’ll give you what you want.”

Well, Jason knows now that this is going to end fast, but he refuses to let it end without Y/N cumming hard again. He squeezes her hip with one hand and the other hand rubs her clit fast in messy circles. He begins to pull her down to meet his thrusts, fucking her harder and faster with everything he’s got. The squelching sound from his cock fucking up into her wet pussy becomes more noticeable, especially when their skin-on-skin slapping gets louder and harsher that echoes in the living room.

“Fuck...Y/N, you’re getting so tight. You feel so fucking good baby,” Jason pants hard, completely sweating and keeping his fast and erratic pace to get them to their releases. “Fuckin’ cum on my big cock, sweetheart. I wanna feel you cum so bad. Please cum for me, again.”

Y/N keeps her eyes on Jason just as her orgasm hits her hard; she squeezes and gushes around his cock, she calls out his name. Jason thrusts harder in her three more times, as he finally cums hard inside Y/N, calls out her name as quietly as he could. Y/N collapses against Jason’s chest, despite being hot and sweaty, but he doesn’t mind. He wraps both arms around her and holds her while they regain their breaths and can function normal again.

Y/N doesn’t see the loving smile Jason gives her as he kisses her forehead. “I love you,” he whispers, and hugs her tighter.

She looks up at him and smiles. “I love you, too.”

Before Y/N can lie her head against Jason’s chest again, she notices Gabi sitting and watching them. Y/N jumps up and covers her breasts with her arms, causing Jason to jump in panic and turn around to see what’s going on.

“Gabi! What-what the hell are you doing there?!” Y/N cries out in embarrassment. She can feel her cheeks are getting red again.

Gabi slowly gets up from the chair and makes her wave into the kitchen. She finds bottled water in the refrigerator, takes one, and goes back into the living room where Jason and Y/N are still frozen in fear.

“I-I was thirsty,” Gabi answers, even though she knows it sounds like a lame answer. She walks backwards until she reaches the hall. “And-and then I saw you guys, and then I couldn’t stop watching. I’m sorry, Y/N...Jason...”

But before Gabi leaves, she points a finger at Jason and smiles. She even chuckles. “But-but in my defense...he’s really sexy! He’s fucking gorgeous, Y/N, and you’re one lucky bitch! You’re so lucky!”

But Gabi is right about that.

Y/N is lucky...because she has Jason.

#dc comics #dc comics batman #jason todd #jason todd smut #jason todd x reader #jason todd x y/n #jason todd x reader smut #jason todd x y/n smut #red hood #red hood smut #dc comics red hood #dc comics jason todd

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lady-of-lyon · 3 years

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So, I made one post a while back about how awesomely feminist the show Wild Kratts was, with how its two main female characters were women of color in engineering and deserving roles of power, female villains who weren’t motivated by spite or quest for youth, etc, but today I wanted to talk about something slightly different, that I’ve wanted to cover for a while now, because I also think it’s very good - and that’s how the show portrays masculinity, in a way that’s really positive!

First, we have our two main characters, Chris and Martin Kratt. Keep in mind these two are basically self-inserts - and there are plenty of creators, especially males, who have used self-insert characters in really scummy ways - all I have to say is Powerpuff Girls reboot and you know exactly what I’m talking about. Even if they weren’t literal self-inserts, male characters, superheroes especially, oftentimes serve the male power fantasy, being just the strong, stoic, all-powerful person so many boys are told they’re supposed to be. I could get into a whole discussion about how the male power fantasy is present even when males are not (ever look through a fashion magazine and wonder why there are so few men? Sure, part of it is that the industry thrives off exploiting women’s insecurities, and men aren’t as concerned for their appearance, but another part of it is so that the guy, looking through it, can feel like he has no competition for these women - there’s a reason so many comedians have jokes about fashion magazines being their sexual awakening as kids. It’s really scummy) but that’s not what this is about. So, the bros had every opportunity to do just that - make themselves these traditional heroes who aren’t actually really good role models, like batman or what have you. It’s certainly not uncommon for celebrity cartoons to do stuff like that. But Martin and Chris chose a different approach. They’re pretty strong standouts for positive masculinity. They’re openly affectionate - both with eachother as brothers, and with their friends. They cry, sometimes over little things - most of the time when big superheroes cry, it’s ‘cause they lost the girl they loved or their mentor or something like that, only in the big, most agonizing moments do they shed a tear. But here, Chris or Martin will cry just because they’ve had a bad day, or because they’re overwhelmed and overjoyed that someone named a mantis after them! In a lot of shows or movies when a guy cries over something little, it’s usually played for laughs, or to emasculate him, but here it’s casual without being unreasonable or overdone. The brothers cry just ad much, maybe even more (haven’t gone back and counted or anything) as the girls do. Not to mention, it’s a very nice depiction of a loving, healthy sibling relationship. As the youngest sibling myself, it’s refreshing to see a pair who don’t abuse eachother with noogies or cruel and snarky remarks. When they do fight, it’s never a screaming match, and also because they had a conflict of interest or disagreed over a fact, not because, say, one of them stole the other’s shirt or is neglecting the other’s feelings. Kids, being very impressionable, get exposed to a lot of abusive sibling relationships played as normal in media, and start thinking this is how siblings are and should act. For instance, my sister (who is now my best friend and has gotten over all these bad habits over time) when she was younger watched a lot of Kim Possible, a show that is great, but has a bad family dynamic with Kim and her little siblings. The “tweebs” as she calls them are always irresponsible, destructive, and making Kim annoyed to no end. My older brother was one of the most polite, reserved, kind little kids, but she still treated him like he was a brat and a nuisance, because that’s what shows like Kim Possible taught her little brothers were. Additionally, I was always treated like a spoiled crybaby who just wanted attention and got away with everything - I was not any of those things, ever, but that’s what shows teach you little sisters are. Sure, Wild Kratts has a smidge of that, with Chris seemingly being the stereotype of the know-it-all little sibling, but instead of being constantly looked town upon for being too “perfect” like with Hailey Long in American Dragon, Martin often praises his brother for his abilities. Sure, Martin gets annoyed when Chris tries to correct him on things, like in the episode Wolf Hawks, but everyone else does too, so it feels more like a take-down of mansplaining than a sibling spat.

I talked too in the feminist post about how refreshing it is that Chris and Martin more or less willingly put themselves under the authority of Koki and Aviva, two women of color. I don’t think it’s possible to say any one character is the “leader,” they all work as a evenly balanced team, but it’s safe to say that Koki and Aviva make the more responsible decisions. The bros try to get out of their calls a few times, but the show plays it more like they’re being irresponsible, and less like they’re renegade cool dudes who don’t take nothing from nobody, especially not two girls. They are pretty much always punished via karma for their reckless choices, most especially in To Touch a Hummingbird, where their arrogant attitudes blow up in their faces rather spectacularly. We also never see the narrative most present in sitcoms, where the male leads mess up and go out of their way to cover it up and ultimately gets away with it - after all, you have to root for them, right, because sure they messed up and had no consequences, but aren’t they just so lovable? No, here Martin and Chris always have to fix their wrongdoing, and it’s always deserved when they get comeuppance. Another aspect of the show I like is that, many times, when the bros get captured or are in peril, they are saved by the women - and most refreshing of all, there’s never a moment of “wink wink nudge nudge wow I can’t believe I had to be rescued by a GIRL” or even “wow you saved me you’re pretty good honey guess I shouldn’t have underestimated you, you go girl!” No, when the girls save them, it’s just - you know, relief? Because they were saved? It’s never a scenario played as an exception, or any more dire than when the bros need to rescue eachother. The bros are genuinely happy to have them as teammates. The show even did the standard “boys vs girls” episode in the form of When Fish Fly - but instead of being actually girls vs. boys, it’s engineers vs. adventurers. There’s nothing really gendered about it - the girls happen to be engineers, and the boys happen to be adventurers. And the episode doesn’t end with the boys being “wow gosh darn I shouldn’t have doubted you girls are better at everything,” it’s a mutual agreement that both parties have hard jobs. Basically, the bros are very naturally respectful of women. That plays more into their feminist narrative too, but either way, it’s refreshing.

Then, we have Jimmy! Jimmy, the lovable gamerboy pizza man. At first glance Jimmy seems like the stereotypical cowardly, pathetic, emasculated loser. He’s frightened of most things, as of yet has no power suit, and he BAKES for crying out loud! But none of these things are framed as terribly bad traits. Sure, we laugh when he screams and runs from an animal, but though it happens over and over, the crew doesn’t get sick of it. They don’t berate him or belittle him because he’s so gosh darn cowardly. There’s a great scene in Rattlesnake Crystal where Jimmy has to deliver something to the bros alone, in the middle of a spooky desert. He is terrified the whole time, sprinting off after he delivers the goods. When Martin and Chris run into him, they don’t laugh at him for being spooked, they just greet and then bid fair well to their friend. To them, this is just Jimmy, and there’s nothing wrong with it. Jimmy isn’t coddled, but he is reassured many times that he’s a valuable member of the team. I love that little message, that you’re just as important of a person even if you can’t do as much or have greater limits. When his friends do try to get him over his fears, it’s not because they have to, that the day will somehow be ruined by Jimmy’s incompetence p, but because they’re his friends, and want him to experience fun and wonderful things that he would otherwise miss out on. But what Jimmy CAN do is just as important! Jimmy is a gamer, which in a lot of shows, is portrayed as a lazy, useless, mindless hobby. But here, because he plays video games, it makes him essential for piloting the ship and teleporting important items. There’s always the joke that video games improves your hand/eye coordination, but recent studies have shown it has much better effects. It can make you much better at keeping track of multiple moving objects and processing technical but variable information- two traits which, fittingly enough, are really really important for air traffic controllers and airplane pilots! He also demonstrates a lot more courage behind the wheel of the Tortuga, which makes sense - in an impersonal setting, he would have more sense of calm and control and courage, because it’s so similar to a video game world. It’s not all too different with how I feel more emboldened to pick fights with people on the internet, but get crazy anxious if a real person so much as looks at me. So Jimmy’s love of video games isn’t because he’s irresponsible, it has real benefits. A quick last point - Jimmy also eats a lot, but they thankfully don’t make him fat or greedy or anything like that. He never takes food from people, he actually bakes, and shares it with others! Having the baker be a boy is a lovely touch.

I might do another post about the toxic masculinity of the two villains, (or four villains, I guess, if I wanna discuss the minions) but I’ve got other work to do, and this post is long enough already, so I’ll get around to it later. I’ll sum it up with this - Wild Kratts is a show that teaches boys it’s not only ok to be kind, but essential. The brothers protect defenseless animals, advocate for things “icky” and “weird,” like bugs or snakes or worms - not because they’re boys, and boys like icky things, but because they genuinely see the beauty in all life, and are encouraging us to slow down and do the same. The Wild Kratts are heroes who save the world not by being the strongest or smartest or coolest, but by looking after those who are exploited and vulnerable, who are essential to the world, even if they can’t always do everything. In Wild Kratts the only weaknesses a man can have isn’t what he can’t do, but what he does do that he shouldn’t have. Sure, it’s a cute show about two funny guys who have cool powers, but it’s also a show about accountability, compassion, respect and trust. The show says “boys will be boys” in all the right ways - Martin is a lovable goof with a heart of gold, but he still has to get his act together when he messes up, and he’s still creative and smart and openly sensitive. Chris is a bit of a know-it-all show-off, but he can also mess up as much as his brother, and is still bold, brave, adventurous, and can put his money where his mouth is. Jimmy is a cowardly, napping, eating machine video-gamer, but he’s still a valued member of the team, has incredible skills and talents, and will always help his friends, even if he is really, really scared. It is so important to have role models like these, in a world dominated by unhealthy machismo. The Wild Kratts are heroes who save the world - both animated, and real.

All they need now is a canon queer character, and I’ll stan them forever! My money’s on Aviva!!

#wild kratts #chris kratt #martin kratt #long post #hottake #feminism #meninism #positive masculinity #toxic masculinity #jimmy z #wk jimmy #kratt brothers

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watcherinwater · 3 years

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FYI-In no way am I calling out all shippers who ship the ships I will mention-just the militant ones who invade tags and harass people for not shipping their ship or who harass people for saying it’s not canon.

I’m getting really tired of all the stupid ship wars over the Loki show. I don’t care if you ship whatever you want but stop invading other peoples tags just to belittle what they ship . I can’t even filter them out because some you guys are invading the mainstream tags without even tagging it as ships. And just because your ship is the most popular doesn’t give you the right to harass people and to try to force them to say it’s canon. Newsflash-none of these ships are canon. Will they be? Possibly-though I don’t think so-especially since the head writer has already said that the most popular ship won’t be although it’s true that he could be lying. They are all controversial in some way-even though a queer relationship shouldn’t be; at least not for being queer. But guess what guys-not everybody sees chemistry of a romantic type among all these characters and I really wish some you all would stop acting like everyone is supposed to feel the way about it that you do.

Yeah some people ship some controversial and sometimes distasteful stuff-like self-love, incest and other weird shit has been available in many fandoms for some time. And no it doesn’t automatically mean people do it in real life. It’s also a pretty small corner of fandom-you’re literally giving it attention by even talking about it so much. You don’t have to like it but you do need to accept that it exists. I guarantee you there’s all kinds of stuff that’s a lot worse than what I just mentioned in many fandoms and it’s usually not that hard to ignore that part of fandom-especially on social media-just filter out the tags and don’t go looking for them. That some of you bitch about it but literally go looking for it in the tags says a lot. I see several people who do this who have no problem with rape, torture, clone f******, and even underage stuff in the fandom so quit moralizing. There are profiles that invade tags that go around talking about ships that they feel are morally wrong-dude seriously keep it on your profile all you want but quit invading tags. If you have a problem with stuff that’s “morally wrong” I hate to break it to you but it’s all over the world and all over fandom. And those of you complaining about incest type ships-how many of you were fine with Jamie and Cersei in Game of Thrones because it was canon? How many of you are fine with writing about the weird romantic situations Loki gets into in both the myths and the comics (more on the below).

On the other hand-those of you who ship controversial ships that the majority find distasteful need to understand that most mainstream fans aren’t going to like them. People don’t or at least aren’t supposed to do this stuff in the real world and if you want to write in in your corner of fandom that’s fine. But most people aren’t going to like it and you need to stay in your lane and tag your stuff and not say it’s canon. To be fair until recently most of you did do this.

People ship Loki with a lot of weird ships. We’re talking about the guy/girl who in the myths and some parts of the comics turned into a mare and gave birth to a horse! And who in both the comics and the myths has monster children. Who ate a witch’s heart and gave birth to monsters. Many of you are fine with this because it’s canonical in most media. I doubt you’d be okay with it in real life-or that you assume that everybody who writes fan fiction (and there’s a lot of it) about it is okay with it in real life. Some people literally ship him with the Tesseract (SpaceFrost). Some people ship him with his clones (LokiCest). Some people ship him with Tom (FrostPudding). Yeah sometimes it’s crack ships-but sometimes it isn’t. I quite enjoy the SpaceFrost one and find it amusing-as well as FrostPudding-is some asshole going to come after for me for that? They’re actually popular ships although people usually turn the Tesseract into a person. 😁

Personally, I don’t ship any of the new ships (I’d rather see Loki with someone who doesn’t threaten his life or automatically want something from him; I’m kind of worn out on the enemies to lovers thing) but I really don’t care as long as people aren’t trying to force it on me or force me to say it’s canon. This is literally FrostMaster all over again-which isn’t canon but because it was a popular ship you had militants trying to harass people who said it wasn’t canon. Not everybody ships Loki with an older man who is supposed to control him in some way. If you do that’s fine and if you don’t that’s fine too.

I know a lot of people don’t like the Thorki ship-but I’ll say one thing for those shippers-at least most of the time they stay in their lane, understand that many people don’t appreciate their ship, don’t harass people over it, and tag their stuff. Several of you could stand to learn to do the same. And FYI, even if your ship does become canon that still doesn’t give you the right to harass people who don’t ship it or ship other ships. I’ve seen people saying racist stuff to people who ship Loki and Casey, and Mobius and Renslayer. Like, these are tiny ships and you’re threatened by them?? Your ships are the majority-isn’t that enough? I’ve also seen the some people trying to say that if you don’t ship Lokius you’re homophobic. Of course while there are some asshole homo/biphobes-there’s plenty of other queer people and others who aren’t homo/biphobic and who don’t ship them and some of you need to get that through your heads and stop using our queer identity to prop up your ship. It’s not always about canon though-it’s usually about what’s most popular. Bruce and Natasha was actual canon and I remember people who shipped them getting all kinds of shit from people who shipped a much more popular ship.

In no way am I calling out all shippers who ship these ships-just the militant ones who invade tags and harass people for not shipping their ship or for saying it’s not canon. Y’all getting ridiculous over fictional characters. Seriously, mind your own business and stay in your lane and stop messing with mainstream tags while not including your specific ship tags. I don’t want to look through the Loki series tag and see shippers fighting without these posts being tagged appropriately. It comes across that there’s no reason for you to do this other than spite. You can also tag stuff as “x negative” or “x critical”.

TLDR: Militant shippers (and only those) please stop invading each other‘s tags and stop invading mainstream tags. Tag your stuff and stay in your lane. And remember none of your ships are canon (although that may change but even then don’t harass people) so stop trying to push people into saying they are. Also people are going to ship Loki with all kinds of weird ships- considering his history in both mythology and the comics. If you don’t like it then stay out of the tags and also those of you that ship these ships please tag your stuff. And don’t use things like racism and queerphobia to either support or disparage ships.

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t-lostinworlds · 4 years

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Blurb #4: Scaredy Spidey (T.H.)

a/n: this idea has been sitting in my drafts since the first time i found out that Tom is actually scared of spiders...so along time ago asdfghjkl and just got around to finishing it a few weeks ago. i don’t mind spiders and have handled quite a few but anyway, hope you enjoy this one <3

pairing: tom holland x female!reader summary: There's a big spider on the bed and Tom is scared shitless to go near it so you're the one who has to get it out. He livestreams the whole thing for fun, so, you also chase him with it for fun. warnings: fluffy funny stuff, a spider, a person who’s scared of spiders, and a person who’s not. word count: 1.3k+

masterlist in bio & pinned post

-:-:-:-:-

"Shit!"

You hear your boyfriend scream, followed by thundering footsteps down the stairs that had you off the couch and on your feet in seconds.

"Tom? Are you alright?" you called out as you peeked in the hallway, the lad mentioned coming into view not long after. Your confusion and concern only heightened when Tom went to latch onto you immediately. His strong arms wrapped around your body, face buried on the crook of your neck as he lets out a soft groan of dismay. "What's up bubba?" you asked, rubbing his back comfortingly.

"There's a spider on the bed, like a really, really big spider," Tom muttered, pulling away to look at you with an adorable pout. You couldn't stop the laugh that's escaped your lips, Tom's pout turning more prominent as he looked at you with a look of utter betrayal on his face.

"Don't make fun," he whined.

"I'm not! I'm laughing because you're just too damn adorable when you're scared," you giggled, giving his jutted out lip a kiss. "And I thought you had broken a foot or something with how you screamed. You had me worried you goof, turns out it's just a spider."

"A very big spider," Tom corrected.

You shook your head with a playful roll of your eyes. "Okay, okay, let's get that very big spider out then."

***

Once in the bedroom, you shot Tom a pointed look after you had laid eyes on the creature that was staying still on his side of the bed. The spider was barely even the size of your palm and here you were expecting something really big. You should've known though since Tom likes to exaggerate sometimes.

"It's big for me!" he defended, both hands up in surrender.

You shook your head at him with a sigh. "Go get me a clear cup and a piece of paper. I'll keep an eye on it."

Tom nodded at that, leaving the bedroom in a jiffy and coming back not long after, the cup and paper on one hand while he had his phone on the other. "Hey guys, so, there's this really big spider on the bed—"

"Average-sized spider," you corrected, Tom rolling his eyes with a scoff before he flipped the camera so he could show the spider to the people.

"Big? Average? You guys decide," he said before turning the camera towards you. "But the lovely and amazing Y/N is here to save the day as always"—you waved at the camera before Tom turned it back on himself—"and I thought it'd be funny to do a live in case something happens also known as me dying."

You rolled your eyes at your overreacting boyfriend. "Can you hand me the stuff please before it gets away?" you pointed out, Tom chuckling as he made his way over to you. Once he gave you the things you asked for, you went over to where the spider was sat, getting ready to cover it with the cup. As you got closer—

"Oh my god it's going to get away!" Tom yelled the moment the spider moved in the slightest, already by the door in an instant with both hands holding his phone that was still aimed at you.

"You're not helping!" You jumped at the sudden shrill of his voice. "And you're just exposing yourself, you dork," you added with a laugh, referring to the live.

"Sorry! Sorry," he chuckled, placing a finger over his lip to silence himself. "Everyone already knows how I hate spiders. So, I'm not really exposing anything aside from who's the braver one in this house."

You successfully caught the spider after a minute or two—with Tom letting out noises every time it moves—sliding the paper under the cup to seal it before flipping it over, your palm flat against the opening with the paper in between. "You're still filming?" you asked, eyeing the tiny creature inside the cup before you met your boyfriend's gaze.

"Yeah..." Tom trailed off, lowering the phone slightly as he narrowed his eyes at you. You grinned, sauntering towards him with the cup containing the spider. Tom slowly backed away once he saw the mischief in your eyes. "Darling, don't you even dare—no!" he shrieked as he ran full sprint and out of the bedroom with you hot on his tail, your laughter echoing around the house along with the sounds Tom was making, which was somewhat a hybrid between a scream and a laugh.

"You're supposed to be the superhero in this house!" you joked, slowly going down the stairs before taking on a dash again to catch up with your boyfriend. He's quite a runner that lad.

"We've already established that I'm a fraud when it comes to spiders a long time ago!" he yelled back, phone still in hand as he tries his best to document the whole thing all while running like his life depended on it.

His fans are going to have a field day with this content.

You shook your head with a hearty laugh as you kept at him, Tom finding his way into the living room and behind the couch, taking one of the pillows on hand and getting ready to aim at you.

"No, don't throw that pillow!" you warned, shooting Tom a playful glare with giggles still coming out of you. "It's going to make me drop the cup and we're going to have a harder time finding it when it runs away."

"Just get it out please sweetheart?" Tom asked—more like begged—with the most adorable puppy dog eyes he can muster, pout back on his lips as he tilted his head to the side adorably.

"Okay, okay, I'm going." You shook your head with a giggle, seeing Tom turn his phone off before you turned towards the backyard door and sliding it open. "I'm so sorry for that bumpy ride little guy or girl," you said to the tiny creature, before letting the spider out of the cup and onto the nearby bush.

"Babe?" Tom called out once the door opened and you slipped back inside. "Is it gone?" he asked from his place in the kitchen as he hid behind the counter, completely at the ready in case you suddenly chase him with it again.

You can't help but laugh at his cuteness, showing him both your hands to prove that it was empty. Although he saw that it was, in fact, empty, Tom stayed put and looked at you skeptically.

"Tom, it's gone. I promise," you laughed, walking over to him with both palms open. "Come here bub."

Tom finally went over to you with a sigh of relief, wrapping his arms around your form before he dipped his head for a sweet, loving kiss. "Thank you for being my hero," Tom hummed against your lips. "Even though you quickly turned into a villain," he added, earning a sweet laugh from you.

Keeping him distracted with your kisses, you crawled your fingers discreetly under his shirt with a smirk, Tom pulling away abruptly at the sudden tickle expecting that it was the spider. You let out another laugh at that, the lad burying his face on the crook of your neck as he tightened his arms around you.

"Darling," he groaned against your skin, giving it soft kisses in the process despite his slight annoyance.

"I'll stop," you giggled, turning your head to give his crown a loving peck. "I'll stop."

You tease him about it but you don't go to the point of belittling his fear or making him feel weak for having said fear. A fear is a fear after all, no matter how small or big, rational or irrational it is. You adore Tom with all your heart, imperfection, flaws, and his fear of spiders included.

"I love you, you wuss."

"I love you too, you meanie."

-:-:-:-:-

like, reblog & leave a comment if you liked it and tell me your thoughts <3

♛ Overall/Everything Taglist: @theunwantedomega @vinylmendes @fallinfortom @disneysamara @avengersficwriter @musicalkeys @apatheticanvas67482 @camimndess @tom-hlover ♛ Tom H. Taglist: @hollandfanficlove @averyfosterthoughts @2018shawn @darlingspidey @namoreno @spacebitch2 @hollanddolanfangirl @keepingupwiththehollands @in-a-lot-of-fandoms-tbh @unbelievableholland @kittenruby @sunkisseddreamer @worldoftom @quaksonhehe @big-galaxy-chaos @clara-licht @dummiesshort @imanativeofswlondondahling @sonofabitchstyles @perspectiveparker @chloecreatesfictions @tombob2005 @arivera-30 @rebekkah4766

just let me know if you want to be removed from the taglist hun! <3

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vidalinav · 3 years

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This is going to sound like an anti post but it’s not exactly... It’s a what could have been post, which annoys me more than anything, because it’s so easy to change how people are viewed. But can you imagine if ACOSF was written with just a tiny daresay normal amount of empathy, caring, goodwill, kindness, understanding, general acceptance, anger, regret, and sense of humor? I will show you why.

We could have had Rhys and Nesta being more annoying with each other gradually. Have those scenes where they are clearly petty, but there is no I will murder you in actuality, but I will murder you, jokingly probably, as in that is a line I won’t cross and will never but my gods do I hate you right now. The fake smiles. The tense moments. But never an I can command you and you have no freewill. That is a line both of them will not cross no matter how much power they have because both of them have been in a position where they lost control and freewill. Imagine Feyre and Cassian watching like a tennis match, because both of them are fast talkers and they are crazy insulting. What do we do? Feyre asks. Let’s see where it goes, Cassian replies. They hate each other, but... they respect each other sort of and that’s good enough. Sometimes they admire each other and Cassian and Feyre think hmmm progress.

Think Mor being annoying asf, jealous a little, protective sure, but more petty than anything. And then maybe she is just drastically mean, she’s taking her anger out on Nesta, but Nesta cares nothing for her disdain in fact she’s like f** off, she’s just as insulting. But then we have moments where Nesta sees Mor’s treatment and will undoubtedly think “well that’s f’d up” and Mor’s like THANK YOu! I think so too. Because Nesta, even in her general disdain, knows right from wrong and cannot stand for social injustice. And here she is seeing Mor belittled on a constant, and though Mor is not “good” to her, she cannot stand anyone to be treated that bad. Mor gains mutual respect for her and that is that, maybe starts seeing how disadvantaged Nesta really is. Frenemies like I really wanted.

Feyre and Nesta gradually coming to an understanding. The “I don’t understand you, but I have to accept you anyways” understanding, the “I want to accept you however you are.” The “Both of us are annoying to each other” bond but “I don’t mind you all the time and you’re a good sister in theory and I do want to spend more time with you against my better judgement.” The “I’m sorry but I won’t say it, but we both know--for the times you took care of us, and the time you went looking for me and then helped in a war you had no part in before. I will hold onto to those small moments and believe they’re the whole of what you feel,” because believe it or not Feyre did something f’d up by calling her embarrassing and forcing her into a house after months of not at all trying when she’s on death’s doorstep basically. Sorry not sorry. If characters are suppose to be morally grey, ALL characters are morally grey, and you don’t need a skewed sense of morals to know both wrongs can exist at the same time. I wanted the banding together of two sisters who are powerful asf, who are like hell no. We hurt each other occasionally, but don’t you dare hurt my sister. The sisters who don’t understand, but learn to accept and in accepting grow.

Cassian and Nesta. My word. It could have been beautiful. The person who tries and who understands or tries to understand and doesn’t give up once, because he loves this girl. Cassian who is not written as never having tried at all, but Cassian who is written as never having given up and just has so far not been successful. Nesta who ends up wanting to try because she’s never been loved and here is this guy offering love on a silver platter even though she turns it away time and time again, but who’s scared even so, because she ruins things and she doesn’t want to ruin this, and yet still there is Cassian, actually waiting a thousand years for her. The relationship of two insecure people who find SECURITY in each others arms (not more insecurity), who learn that they want to get better for themselves, because that means loving each other better, rather than the “I’m going to try and deserve you.” The idea of let’s learn and grow together, and if we mess up, we’re not going to be alone when we do, we’re not going to be left behind.

I have never read a book where I came out hating almost all of the characters, when I previously didn’t care about them. No ill will and then all of a sudden, smack in the face, I can’t stand these people. It’s amazing, and... I don’t feel it’s going to have any follow through. I will forever be bitter at the potential that was lost, especially because it is so hard to write fics after acosf, when I feel that the entirety of acosf (minus the house being alive and the valkyries and maybe the subplot of the prison) needs to change. And for what reason did this occur??? Absolutely nothing. Making each one of them kinder, funnier, more empathetic, even VARIED in their response to Nesta would not have cost a thing.

#I decided to re-read it that's why I'm hating this book again #I stopped by the way so this should be the only long one #anti acosf #I can't #I need to burn that book #delete it off of my app #I've gotten so good at pretending it doesn't exist but then BAM #I exlude amren and elain because you know sometimes you just have to have antagonistic people #I just argue that they shouldn't ALL be antagonistic #nesta archeron

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misslilli · 3 years

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Thank you guys, for going on this adventure with me 🥰 I'm having such a blast reading your comments!

Felix Felicis

MSR. AU. PG-13. | tagging @today-in-fic | AO3

Chapter 13 - Fantastic Mulders And Where To Find Them

[ DS ]

“Well, little lady, you’re pretty young and inexperienced, you’ll learn to distinguish when it’s appropriate to call in parents and when it’s clearly not necessary.” Stunned, I stare at the father of a girl in my class sitting across from me, trying to control my flaring temper. ‘What a misogynistic, condescending asshole!’

“I can assure you, sir, when a child comes to me with a concerning story from home, I will always want to clear it up with the parents. Now that we’ve cleared it up, I think we’re done here. Thank you for coming.” I get up and hold out my hand, hoping to end this nightmare of a conversation on a positive note.

Once he left, I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding, anger boiling in the pit of my stomach. There’s not much that I hate more than being belittled and I yank my book bag off my table angrily, spilling the cup of pencils in the process, scattering them everywhere. I want to scream. Okay, now I’m Pissed. Royally.

I pick up the pencils and shove them back into the cup before turning off the lights and leaving for today. As I head outside, I notice a small gathering of women down the front steps and they’re giggling and laughing at something Fox Mulder had said. At the sight of him, my heart skips a few beats. ‘Oh that’s just great. I’ll keep my head down and walk by quickly, I’m in no mood to be dragged into a conversation with the PTA brigade.’

I try to pass them by inconspicuously, walking briskly down the stairs and keeping my head down, but I’m stopped with a hand on my arm and a “Miss Scully, do you have a moment?” I turn to him trying to hide my exasperation. ‘Ugh, why do you have to be so damn handsome. And please, get your hand off my arm before I burst into flames. Victim: Dana Scully, cause of death: Spontaneous human combustion from being touched by Fox Freakin’ Mulder. Try and put that on a headstone.’

My mask of professionalism only slips for a brief moment, though, and I smooth out the frown on my face. “Yes, Mr. Mulder?” ‘Why is your hand still there? And why is it so hot all of a sudden, it’s freakin’ September.’

“I was hoping you could give me another opinion on something.” He leans into my personal space conspiratorially and I raise my eyebrow in a silent question. ‘Mmmh he smells really good too. Why, God, why? Ugh, that low tone of voice is driving me insane.’

“Do you believe in the existence of extraterrestrials?” The women around me giggle and I blink at him slowly. ‘What the fuck kind of question is that?’ I draw myself up to full height - don’t you dare laugh - thankful that I wore my heels today and gather the few braincells I have left that are not occupied with wondering how that broad chest would feel under my fingers.

“Logically, I would have to say No. Given the distances needed to travel from the far reaches of space, the energy requirements would exceed a spacecraft’s capabilities.” I can tell that my answer somewhat surprises him but he’s not done yet.

“But there are obviously unexplained phenomena out there, now when convention and science offer us no answers might we not finally turn to the fantastic as a plausibility?”

‘What I find fantastic is your ass in those jeans…’. “What I find fantastic is any notion that there are answers beyond the realm of science. The answers are there, you just have to know where to look!” The other moms watch our argument as if they’re watching a tennis game.

He flashes me a wry grin. “That’s why they put the ‘I’ in FBI.” ‘Huh, so he’s with the Feds? I wonder where he keeps his gun. Well, I know where I’d check first but… Okay that’s enough. I wonder how many Hail Mary’s Father George will make me say for what’s going on inside my head.

Felix comes running down the stairs at this moment and wraps his arms around his dad’s legs. “Well thank you for this fantastic point of view, I’ll see you tomorrow ladies. Miss Scully.” He tips his imaginary hat to us and walks Felix back to the car. The little boy turns and waves at me, briefly. I smile and wave back.

My mood has miraculously improved during this odd bit of conversation and I bid the PTA moms goodbye as well, walking over to my bike to head home.

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[Felix]

“Hey dad, what did you and Miss Scully talk about back there?” I need to know. Please don’t let it be something embarrassing. Dad smiles at me in the rear view mirror.

“I asked her if she believed in aliens!”

“Noooo DAD, please tell me you didn’t!” ‘This is even worse than I thought. Can I give him up for adoption?’Dad shrugs his shoulders.

“She was having a pretty bad day, I just wanted to cheer her up. I think I did a pretty good job, too, she did smile at the end didn’t she?” Okay that is kind of sweet and yes she did, maybe I’ll keep him after all. I decide to change the subject.

“Dad, can we go to a soccer game sometime?” I just found out at recess today that our school has a soccer team and I really want to see that game. There’s another reason, too, but I keep this bit of information to myself.

“Sure, just tell me when!”

----------

[ FM ]

During the week, I’m treated to various stories from Felix’s school day on the car ride home, but his favorite daily segment of the Felix Show is “Dad, Do You Know What Miss Scully Did Or Said Today?” I’m bat-shit crazy about her too, so I get where he’s coming from, but he’s downright obsessed and I worry that this kind of attachment is not healthy for a kid.

I talk this over with our therapist on Thursday, in a one-on-one session and she thinks that maybe because he lacks an emotionally available mother, he looked for a suitable substitute and found it in his teacher. I shouldn’t worry too much about it, she’s sure when it’s too much, that the teacher is capable of handling the situation. She also promised to talk to Felix next time, to maybe tone it down just a little.

Our time is up before I can tell her about my own concerns about this situation. How I’d like to ask her out on a date but I don’t know if I should because I don’t want my son to get hurt in the process. I’m too inexperienced in dating to know the proper ways to handle this and frankly, the thought of getting back into dating terrifies me a little too. Okay maybe a lot. Felix is not the only one who has been scarred by the divorce.

----------

[ Felix ]

“Dad! Do we have any glitter glue in the house?”

It’s Thursday night and I’ve been working on my project for hours, wanting to get it just right. I had asked dad to write out a text for an invitation for me and I copied it onto the paper carefully. Pleased, I look at the two invitations I made, I can’t wait to hand them out. I really really hope they’ll accept the invite. My dad’s voice is getting louder while he talks, he’s coming upstairs. He enters my room and looks over my shoulder.

“Yeah, it’s in one of the drawers in the office. Tell me again why you’re making extra invitations when we had official ones made this week?” For someone who spends the whole day at work getting into other people’s heads, he’s not very good at understanding people.

“Because I reallywant them to come, dad! They’re my special guests!”

“Well, if there’s glitter glue, they won’t be able to say no! You did a really good job, Felix.”

“I hope so, dad. I’m pretty sad that mom’s out of the country and grandma can’t make it either.” He strokes a hand over my head.

“I know, son. I’m sorry!”

Chapter 14 - Last Chance For Spotting A Rainbow

Notes:

I stole some lines from the pilot. Please don’t sue. They’re just too good. Asdldlgdf

Also, the scene in the beginning is not entirely made up, a version of it happened to me last year.

#xf #the x files #xf fanfic #msr #felix felicis

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babbushka · 4 years

Text

Hide Your Smile

Flip Zimmerman x Reader

11.5k ; Warnings for: Dark!fic (graphic depictions of violence [drunken violent outbursts, domestic violence, domestic abuse {physical and verbal}], blood and gore, graphic brutal murder, mild stalking, possessive behavior), & NSFW content (Car sex/fingering)

Also available on AO3!

(this fic was written in collaboration with my amazing friends and followers here. Thank you all so much for voting in the polls to determine this oneshot, I hope you enjoy it!)

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You don't own me I'm not just one of your many toys You don't own me Don't say I can't go with other boys

And don't tell me what to do Don't tell me what to say And please, when I go out with you Don't put me on display 'cause

You don't own me...

Darkness, all around.

Nothing but hot wet earth, mud sinking under your feet, swallowing you whole.

Rain, thudding against the ground, against your back as you are chased by a monster in the night, bitter breath haunting the back of your neck, the hair rising on your arms only to be drenched down by the torrential downpour flooding your lungs.

The world blurs around you, and you can’t tell, can’t tell which way is up, which way is forward. Things feel slow, thick, you blink but the spots only multiply. There’s a rush in your ears, a gruesome thud thud thudding – is that your pulse? You don’t know.

Blood stings your eyes, dirt caked into the backs of your molars. You can’t see, you can’t hear, you don’t know what’s going on, you see lights in the distance but when you run towards them they seem farther and farther away. Claws and teeth nip at your heels, you can’t stop running, can’t stop no matter how badly your legs ache, because if you stop even for just a moment, he’ll get you, and who knows what will become of you then.

Somewhere far away, a million miles away, Leslie Gore sings and your friends dance in a cookie cutter house in a cookie cutter town. But there in the woods, as something closes around your arm and drags you down to the ground,

you scream.

The party had been going well enough, hadn’t it? Josh hadn’t taken his hand off of you all evening, and wasn’t that something just dandy. Things had been getting tense between the two of you lately, you try not to think about all those heated arguments and cold shoulders that your boyfriend had dropped atop your head. You could ignore all of that now, he didn’t mean it, you knew that.

Maybe he did mean it, but he wasn’t meaning it now, as he dances with you in the dimly lit living room. You weren’t so sure what time it even was, gosh the rain was coming down so hard and making the skies nearly pitch black; why, it coulda been two in the morning for all you knew!

You give a strained smile to Josh for a brief moment, before laying your head back down on his chest. You think he looks relatively dashing tonight, dressed up for the party. New Year’s Eve 1962, could you believe it? Or well, it’d be 1962 in a couple minutes, but still.

You wore a mini-dress with the grooviest pattern you could find, some bright purple tights and white block heels, and you’d done your hair up so high you were sure you could feel it swaying on top of your head. It was very on trend these days, this sort of hairstyle. From what you could tell, anyway. You knew that this party was important for Josh, was important that he show up and make a good appearance with his football buddies, there were guys here that knew NFL draft scouts and he needed to impress them so he could get on their good side.

You wanted to look nice. He looked nice too, in his letterman jacket and jeans. Maybe he could have dressed up a little more, put a little more effort in. It was alright, it was fine. He gelled his hair down, that was more than you were expecting.

Thunder cracks across the sky and you involuntarily press yourself closer to him – he’ll hold you, won’t he? You wait for his arms to tighten around you, but they never do. Disappointed, but not surprised, you think.

“What’s your problem babe?” He asks, his voice slurred. You realize you’ve stopped dancing, stopped the short back and forth of your feet and he’d picked up on that.

“Nothing Josh. Just you know, the thunder and all.” You shrug, but he only scoffs and rolls his eyes.

“It’s not even real, it can’t hurt you, get a grip.” Josh steps away from you, away from the dance floor.

There are prying eyes there in the dark, and you’re embarrassed by the volume in his voice. He doesn’t realize how loud he can be sometimes, you know that, especially when he’s a little more buzzed than normal. He’s been getting more and more buzzed these days, you didn’t think it was good, was healthy. Just because he was of legal drinking age didn’t mean that you should dump alcohol into your body, not the way he did anyway.

“Right, of course Josh, sorry.” You grit your teeth, clench your jaw.

“Why don’t you go get me another beer, make yourself useful.” He dismisses you, turning towards his group of friends on the football team, towards bigger and stronger boys than he is, an attempt to weasel his way inside their group.

You’ve had quite enough of being dismissed, pushed aside. You’ve had enough. You’d been thinking of leaving him for a while, thinking about telling him what for, for once and for all. It never felt like the right time, something about him always made you feel like something bad would happen if you tried. But you’re at a point where you’re not being given any other choice.

You watch him laugh with his friends, with these college seniors, big boys on campus, and your heart races in your chest. A very small part of your brain fantasizes late at night about killing him, pushing him off some cliff or into traffic, an accident. Always an accident.

You’d never do it of course – of course not. Good girls didn’t kill their star athlete boyfriends.

But.

But maybe…maybe if something were to happen to him, you wouldn’t be so upset, would you?

“Don’t you think you’ve had enough to drink?” The words tumble past your lips without much thought, and you don’t really even register it until the whole group of jocks go silent and Josh turns around slowly, menacingly, to stare you down.

“…What the fuck did you just say?” His voice is low, angry.

“You’re supposed to drive me back home after this, I just want to make sure you’ll be alright to drive.” You’re unrelenting, shoulders square and jaw tight. If he thought he was going to be a jackass to win brownie points, then he had another thing coming.

The jocks only sip their beers, carefully watching. You wonder if any of them would come to your defense, but their silence is telling. You decide you hate them.

“I didn’t ask for your fucking opinion, I asked you to get me a fucking beer.” Josh shoves his red cup into your hand and you decide you hate him too.

Without another word, you accept the cup and with a forced smile, make your way to the kitchen where people are crowded by kegs and bottles.

You give a small sigh while you pour a cup of whatever shitty draft they’d gotten for the party. Part of you wishes you hadn’t come at all, you knew it could have only ended like this, being ignored and belittled all evening.

You wish that Flip were there, and you sigh again.

Philip ‘Flip’ Zimmerman, your best friend. The handsome basketball player, the guy who’s got his life together. A good job at the lumbermill, probably going to be a manager or something, the CEO one day. Smart, so smart! You can’t help but think of how many nights he tutored you for math with gentle eyes. And funny, and kind, and nice to you. He’s a couple years older than you and probably doesn’t think of you as anything other than a friend, but…but for a moment, you imagine what it might be like to call Flip your man.

You wonder if Flip would hold you tight when the thunder cracks across the sky, and a small smile threatens to creep up on your face. He definitely would, he’s done it before, hasn’t he? Given you his jacket to keep you dry from the rain, strong arms around your shoulders. Your cheeks begin to warm at the thought, at the way you can practically smell the cologne he wears whenever you’d rest your head on his shoulder.

You wish Flip were here. Or maybe no, maybe you just wish you were with him alone, were with him anywhere that wasn’t here. You wish you were cozied up on the couch in his Ma’s house, watching some scary movie and tucking yourself under his chin while you share a bowl of stove-top popcorn.

Lightning splinters across the clouds through the window in the kitchen, and you sigh again.

You had asked him to come, you really did try. But he said he was busy with work stuff, and he couldn’t. You admired that about him, his work ethic. He was so dedicated to everything he did, and even though you wanted to be selfish and whine and complain about needing his attention, you respected when he put his foot down.

Watching the froth begin to fade from the top of the beer cup, you think to yourself that tonight’s it, the last night you’d deal with Josh. You decide that you’ll go over, give him his beer, and then as soon as he drops you home whenever this party is supposed to end, you’ll tell him not to bother calling you ever again.

Something inside of you lightens up at the thought, like a weight slowly slipping off your shoulders. You can’t help but smile a little bit, at the thought of no longer being with him. Maybe…maybe if Flip saw you were single, he’d make a move of his own. Your head is in the clouds thinking about Flip, when you accidentally bump into someone on your way back to the living room.

A little bit of beer sloshes onto a boy’s shirt, and you recognize him as one of Josh’s new pals.

Before you can even open your mouth to apologize for the mess, he grabs you by the arm. His grip is harsh, and he yanks you around for a second, the beer spilling everywhere, all over the floor, onto your new white shoes.

“Hey J, are you gonna control your woman or what?” The guy – was his name Tommy? – sneers down at you. He’s tall, and he’s strong, you can start to feel a dull ping of pain on your arm where his fingers are digging in deep.

“I’m not his to control.” You wrench yourself out of the guy’s hold, stumbling backwards a few feet from the force of it.

Josh is up off the couch in an instant, infuriated with you.

He’s drunk, eyes glassed over like some shark, dark and empty. He backhands you across the jaw, sends you falling to the floor despite your best efforts, the crack of your skull against the wooden panels calling spots to your vision.

“Don’t ever speak back to someone like that, are you out of your fucking mind?” He wrangles you back up off the floor, grabs you by the front of your dress and hauls you up roughly, unkindly.

“Don’t touch me!” You shout, your nails scratching at his face, teeth bared in a rage of your own, pent-up anger that you’ve been swallowing for six months as you smack him across the face back in retaliation, angry and spitting, “Get off of me!”

Josh doesn’t let up, in fact he doubles down, kicks at your ankles so your knees cave in to try and support yourself as his hand shoots up from the collar of your blouse to wrapping around your throat. He drags you like that through the party, and you can’t help but wonder why no one is saying anything, doing anything? Do they not hear you? Do they not care?

“I’ll make you regret that – I’ll make you regret everything.” Josh hisses lowly in your ear as he forces you through the house by the scruff of your neck, sour breath of a drunken stupor stinging like a brand across your cheek.

“I already do.” You choke, struggling against his hold, against his hands.

You manage to elbow him in the stomach, hard, hard enough that he doubles over from the wind knocked out of his lungs, and you run.

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Don't try to change me in any way You don't own me Don't tie me down 'cause I'd never stay

I don't tell you what to say I don't tell you what to do So just let me be myself That's all I ask of you

Shoving through the crowd of people, a hundred faces you don’t recognize, smiles fading into confused glares, you run.

Thunder, rain, lightning, music deafens in your ears as you look for the door. Why is it so dark at this party? Where in the house are you? Hallways lead to doors that lead to nowhere, and you can hear his footsteps, can hear him running running running after you.

Didn’t you pass through this room before? Where was a telephone, surely whoever’s house this was, surely they had a telephone. But who would you call? You couldn’t call your parents, couldn’t let them know you snuck out of the house. You could call Flip, yes, that was it! You’d call Flip, if only you could find a phone.

They laugh at you, the people at the party. Laugh with their drug addled eyes, high off mushrooms and LSD, acid trips going wrong wrong wrong. They dance and laugh and laugh and dance, chugging spiked drinks with wild abandon, lights flashing red yellow purple green blue, a cacophony of psychedelics.

He’s there, somewhere among them, he’s there, you know he is. The smack of your footsteps sound like gunshots against the wood, your head throbs. You want to sob and scream and shout and cry cry cry but you can’t do that until you are safe, and if you stay in this house, there’s no telling where you’ll find safety again.

Or at all.

You try every door, locked ones, unlocked ones, looking for a way out. Eventually you lock yourself in a bathroom, lucky that there’s a window. It’s a single story house, the jump isn’t far.

You abandon your shoes, they don’t stay on your feet that well anyway, and you don’t have the time to groan about the frigid mud that squeaks between your toes as you splash down onto the ground from the window.

“Help!” You cup your mouth and shout, hearing something, a twig snapping not too far away. You see him, he’s coming after you through a side-door, and you have to run, you have to go. “Oh fuck – ”

You bolt, freezing rain soaking your clothes.

You don’t know where you are, don’t recognize this part of town.

Josh knew the area, not you, not you. These were his friends, not yours, not yours.

You just run, hoping your legs carry you to safety, carry you away. There’s woods, in the distance. You whip your head around, try looking for a road, any road. Where’s the driveway? It must be on the other side of the house, it must be –

Josh is gaining on you, athletic legs more powerful than your own.

“You can’t outrun me, don’t even try, don’t bother, get the fuck over here!” He hollers at you, voice guttural and deep, primal in a way that strikes fear into your heart.

You wish you had something, a weapon of some kind, any kind, to fight him with, but you don’t.

So you run.

“Shitshitshitshitshit – someone help!” You toss your voice to the wind, the howling wind which carries sheets of rain, pounds it down sideways against your back, your face, hair sopping wet and sticking to your eyes, nose, getting in your mouth as you pant pant pant, sobs of terror spiking through your chest, salty tears whisked away by the rain.

You don’t know how far you’ve gotten, you don’t know if anyone can hear you, don’t know if anyone would even come if they did. You need to form a plan, need to put enough distance between you and this monster of a man, need to catch your breath.

Your adrenaline pounds in your ear as the earth slips and slides underneath your feet, your nylon stockings not doing anything to help gain traction. You skid your knees on rocks and trip over gnarled roots, but every time you get up, each and every time you have to get up, otherwise he’ll get you.

You can feel how close he is, his hands reaching out to tear away at your clothes, can feel the ghost of his fingers trying to hook around your dress, and you can’t help but let out a high-pitched scream, something that pierces into the blackness of night, something that sends the birds from their branches.

“How dare you! How dare you embarrass me like that!” Josh manages to snatch you, the both of you tumbling down to the ground from the momentum, rolling in the mud. It’s in your eyes, mouth, a sharp hot pain at your temple makes you think you’ve hit your head, maybe on a rock? You don’t know, you taste copper in your mouth. You feel hands, no, fists, hard against your jaw. “I’ll kill you, you whore, I’ll fucking kill you for embarrassing me.”

“Don’t touch me – !” You scream, searching the ground for something, for anything, relief flooding through your body when your hand closes around a rock large enough to do some damage.

“Quiet, just be quiet!” He’s annoyed with you, annoyed with how loud you’re being, as if you’re inconveniencing him by not taking a beating politely. You take in a deep breath and muster all the strength you possibly can, to slam the rock against his face, making him knock backwards with a loud, “Fuck!”

“Someone – please!” You cough and sputter as blood streams down your face, washed away by the heavy rain which does not relent.

In an instant, the hands are yanked away from you, and you scramble to get away as fast as you can to catch your breath. You cough and hack up blood, dirt, mud which grinds between your teeth, the pounding against your temple making you dizzy, making you sick. You feel like you’re going to be sick, the adrenaline rising up up up your throat.

“Who the fuck are you – ” You hear Josh start, before the sound of punches and grunts cuts through the air again, and you squint in the dark to see who came to your rescue, who heard your calls.

“Flip?” You nearly can’t believe it, can’t believe your widened eyes, but there he is – you’d recognize those broad shoulders and the pattern of his breathing anywhere. Despite all better judgement, you rush back to his side, slipping and sliding on mud as rain beats down with such fury as your best friend’s fists, “Flip!”

“You don’t get to touch her, ever again.” Flip does not yell, he does not scream.

He does not raise his voice, he is calm, eerily calm, unnervingly calm.

You almost don’t hear him speaking at all, from how softly his voice comes out as he kicks the shit out of Josh, as he holds his head in place and knees him so hard in the face once, twice, three times, hard enough that the sick crunch of bone and cartilage echoes the thunder all around you, and he goes limp.

But Flip doesn’t stop, he doesn’t stop beating Josh’s face in with his fist until the man is a mess of blood, teeth coming loose, broken nose and busted lip bubbling hot, steaming in the freezing cold air. He doesn’t stop still, and you watch in awe, in twisted admiration as Flip hauls the ragdoll of your former boyfriend up enough to get him in a chokehold and snap his neck.

Only then, does Flip drop him, face down into the mud.

You look at the lifeless body, and then up at Flip, who you find is already looking back at you. His chest is heaving, he’s panting, out of breath and exhausted. The rain has soaked him through too, but he’s not shivering, not the way you are. He must have ran too, had to have ran to catch up with you. You don’t know how deep in the woods you are, how deep he had to go to find you.

But he did, he did.

You’re numb, standing there. Numb from the cold, from the shock, you don’t know. You want to comfort Flip – and isn’t that fucked up? You wanting to comfort someone else right now? But you do.

Everything feels like it’s going to be okay now, now that Flip’s here.

“Oh my god.” You say, because you don’t really know what else to say, don’t really know what else to do other than stand there. You’re frightened, you can feel the fear bubbling up in your stomach, but there’s calm now too, a calm that’s got you more afraid than anything. You look at Josh, then back to Flip once again. “Do you think…”

“Are you okay?” Flip pushes the hair out of his face with a bloody hand and takes a cautious step towards you.

“Me? Yeah – yes I’m…Do you think you killed him?” You ask, holding a hand out to Flip.

You know he’s worried about scaring you, and warmth cuts through some of the chill in your bones at the thought. You extend a hand and encourage him to take it, smearing blood between your palms which the rain washes away, carries down into the wood in thick muddy rivers.

You’re not afraid of Flip, could never be afraid of Flip.

“Look at me,” He’s hung up on it, presses his forehead against yours and goes nearly cross-eyed in the dark to peer into your eyes, your soul, “Are you okay?”

“I don’t know.” You finally answer truthfully, taking another step closer to him, trying to get as close to him as possible. You feel safe, your brain screams safety with this man, with your friend, your Flip. “But I’m better now that you’re here. What are you doing here? I thought you had work.”

Confusion dawns on you, and you frown a little bit, just because it doesn’t make sense for him to be here right now, it doesn’t make sense for him to be here at all. Flip’s eyes widen a little, and even in the scant moonlight you can tell he’s blushing. He tries pulling away, but you don’t release your grip on his hand, warm and solid and real against your own.

“I just – I’m sorry I – well I got off early and I wanted to make sure that you would be okay so I came over and just kind of watched from the car in case you needed me for anything.” He rushes out in one big breath, winces, waits for you to berate him.

“Do you do that? Watch me from a distance.” You ask him, the both of you standing there in the rain.

You know it’s absurd, somewhere in the back of your head a small voice tells you it’s absurd to have a conversation like this while standing over a body in the middle of the woods, but you push it away, push it away and step closer to Flip. You’re not accusatory when you ask, you’re not condemning him – you’re just curious.

“No – I – well yes, sometimes, but only when you’re out with him.” He admits, nudging Josh’s back with the toe of his boot. His voice is dark, low, gritty in the back of his throat but he doesn’t yell, you sigh against him, your heart breaks for the anger in his voice, the sadness. You wish you never started dating this schmuck, wish you never said yes to him, wished that it had been Flip who asked instead. “I don’t trust him, (Y/N), I don’t like how he treats you. I worry, and I know that it’s creepy I know, I’m sorry, I’m not a creep I swear, I just. I care about you.”

You’re quiet for a little while, and then you move away from him only far enough to plant your stocking-clad foot onto the back of Josh’s head, push him deeper into the earth, the mud. The body gives no resistance, and a sick satisfaction makes your vision go blurry.

“Have…have you done this before?” You ask, that numbness starting to fade, the tremble of shock at what you witnessed, experienced setting in.

Flip looks like he would fall to his knees before you in that moment, as he blinks water out of his eyes, as he trembles too.

“No, I swear. I don’t even know what came over me, but I heard you screaming and begging and I couldn’t stop, I had to help you somehow.” His voice breaks, and all you want is to be close to him, so you go, go rushing into his arms, and he holds you tight.

He holds you and you hold him back, two people under the moonlight as lightning illuminates the body with picture-perfect clarity for a split second. He’s face down in the earth but you can tell, you can just tell he’s brutally mangled by the damage Flip did to him, and as you shove your face into Flip’s chest, for the briefest of moments, you smile.

“We have to get rid of him.” You say softly, trying to think of a plan, trying to think of what to do.

Flip gently pushes on your shoulders to separate the two of you, and shakes his head with a frown.

“We? No (Y/N), you can’t be involved at all, you can’t, just please go to the car and get dry and warm, I can handle this.” He’s sweet, so sweet with the way there’s sincerity in his eyes, but you’re not having any of it.

“I’m already involved, Flip, I’m not going to let you do this alone. Whatever it is, we’re in this together now. We can’t go to the police, they wouldn’t understand, they wouldn’t believe us. I’m with you.” You squeeze his hand lovingly in your own, and you can’t help but think how good it feels, how right it feels, to hold his hand.

“I think I have an idea, but first, we need to get him to the car.” Flip chews the inside of his cheek, a nervous tick of his that you always scold him for.

You don’t scold him now, there’s no time, that’s not what’s important now.

What’s important is hauling dead weight down the woods without a trace, without any evidence other than what will be washed away.

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I'm young and I love to be young I'm free and I love to be free To live my life the way I want To say and do whatever I please

And don't tell me what to do Oh, don't tell me what to say And please, when I go out with you Don't put me on display

The body rolls around slightly, in the trunk. You’re in Flip’s dad’s '58 oldsmobile, the heat is blasting, and you hug your knees in the passenger seat, as Flip maneuvers through the winding Colorado roads. It had taken quite some time to get back through the car, out of the woods.

He had been parked out front, only a few feet from the driveway the whole time. All evening, sitting, watching, waiting. Hoping you wouldn’t need him, but prepared to do anything for you if you did. He’s silent on the drive to wherever it is you’re going, the radio is playing softly. The music helps calm your nerves, and you’re thankful for it, you try not to freak out.

The little clock on the dashboard says it’s only about midnight, but you feel like it’s way later than that. The rain fucks everything up, you think, the rain’s been pouring for hours and hours now, but it feels like days.

Every time the car makes a sharp turn, or goes up and down a hill, the body thuds against the walls of the trunk, and you just hug your knees tighter.

“Where are we going?” You ask eventually, voice soft. You’re afraid if you raise it, you’ll scream. Your throat hurts, you’ve done enough screaming already.

“Hospital.” Flip replies easily, not taking his eyes off the road, his hands at perfect ten-and-two. You wonder if he’s afraid of screaming too.

The thought of the hospital sends a spike of fear through your blood, makes all the hairs on the back of your neck stand up.

“What? Why?” You demand immediately, confused, scared.

“You still haven’t stopped bleeding and I need to make sure you’re okay.” Flip says evenly. You can tell he wants a cigarette, you can tell. But this is his dad’s car, and he can’t smoke in it. You wonder what his dad would say to knowing that there’s a dead body in it, wonder if smoke would be more of an issue.

“No!” You shake your head, turning yourself towards him fully, a hand on his arm. “No, Flip please, they’ll call my parents and they don’t know I’m out this late, please just – let’s just get rid of him, and then take me home, Flip I’m begging.”

“But what if you’re seriously hurt? What if he did something severe?” Flip’s grip on the steering wheel is white-knuckled, and your stomach flutters as the windshield wipers beat back and forth, whisking the rain away.

“I’m okay, I promise I’m okay, I’ll be fine.” You don’t know if that’s the truth, but you have to believe that it is, you have to. “Philip, please.”

The use of his full first name convinces him, you don’t think you’ve ever said it before, not out loud anyway, not like this. He chews on his lip and sighs, nods his head to your supreme relief.

“Thank you.” You want to kiss him, want to embrace him desperately, but now isn’t the time. He’s driving, there are more important things right now, more important things to deal with. “What are we going to do with him? We can’t bury him in the woods, the rain’s logged all the dirt.”

“Logged – we can go to the mill.” Flip snaps his fingers, and it’s like a light bulb has gone off inside his head.

You just sit back and press a bundled up wad of wet napkins against the wound on your temple, hugging your knees, knowing that you’ll be okay, as long as you’re with Flip.

---------------------------

The lumbermill is a family-owned and operated affair. Flip’s grandfather had founded it sixty-two years ago way back during the turn of the century in 1900, and it had remained in the Zimmerman hands ever since. Once a small business, now stood a proud industrial center for logging and clearing away trees to produce more logs and square away neat pockets of land. Where there used to be only hand-held tools and traditions, now there were the highest-end types of machinery.

You thought Flip was brilliant, absolutely brilliant – you knew exactly what he was thinking.

Just last month, Flip’s dad had been bragging about the new woodchipper that had finally been ordered. You remember sitting at Flip’s Ma’s shabbat table and listening to him go on and on about the new sharp blades, how much more efficient it would make everything, not to mention how little waste they would have, considering the wood chips could be sold for all kinds of uses.

At the time, you had thought it was a little annoying how he wouldn’t let anyone else at the table get in a word, but now you’re thanking your lucky stars that you had been paying attention.

It’s strange, being here this late, being here at all. You’ve visited before of course, Flip has always been eager to show you around. It never felt like you were sneaking about or anything, not considering his family owned it, considering he’d own it one day too.

But it’s strange, with the flood lights filling the night sky with a brilliant white, the usually bustling lumbermill quiet, nothing but the sound of harsh rain clanging on machinery and metal roofs. Flip parks the car in the lot, reaches into the glove compartment and pulls out a key-ring. There must be a dozen keys on the little circle, but Flip seems to know exactly which ones are for what.

“Emergency backups of all the gates,” he explains, jingling it on his index finger for a second, “No one will suspect anything.”

You nod, chew on your cheeks. The thought of going back out into the rain is unpleasant, but you suck it up and open the car door, bracing yourself for a minute before the icy water plunges down the back of your dress once again, body already shivering.

He meets you at the trunk, pops it open. With the flood lights, you can see the extent of the damage to Josh’s face – if you could even call it a face anymore. It was nearly caved in completely, soaked with blood and mud, all the planes of a face that should push out were indented inwards. You manage a glance at Flip’s knuckles, and you see they’re busted wide open, and you suck in a sharp breath.

“Follow me.” Flip says, hoisting the body over his shoulder like a fireman would rescue someone from a burning building, and his boots splash in the mud towards where he knows the woodchipper is set up.

You regret not going back for your shoes now, as more freezing mud stains your tights. You regret dressing up at all, dressing for fashion instead of comfort. Flip is in a flannel and jeans, and normally you tease him for being like a cartoon character always wearing the same thing, you wish that you weren’t in a fucking miniskirt and tights in the dead of winter.

Lightning backs the machine dramatically, after a few minutes of trudging. The ground here is much more substantial than the woods, and you push your legs across a developed terrain instead of through the wilderness of the mountains. It stands tall, proud, the woodchipper, and you swallow a lump around your throat.

“Is that it?” You ask, close enough to Flip that you only have to raise your voice a little bit to compete with the sound of the rain.

Flip dumps the body onto the ground, goes over to the woodchipper and turns it on. You can tell that using it in the rain is a poor decision, but it’s the only option you have. Flip adjusts some settings, and the thing roars to life, metal blades whirring whirring whirring.

“Yeah but it – he’s too fucking big he can’t go in all in one piece, it’ll get jammed.” Flip runs a hand through his hair as he comes half-jogging back over to you, and you just blink for a moment.

“Okay then we cut him up.” You say matter of factly, your heart pounding in your chest, aware that time is not on your side, that you have to get this done and get out, have to get this done and go as quickly as possible, in case someone comes, in case someone sees.

“(Y/N), are you sure you want to do this?” Flip asks you seriously, puts his hands gently on your shoulders and looks into your eyes.

“I’ve never been more sure of anything in my entire life.” You whisper, eyes wide, feeling more liberated and free, feeling so light, determined. Maybe it’s the shock, maybe you’ve lost your fucking mind, you don’t know. But you can’t stop now, you’ve done this much, you can’t stop now. “It can’t be too hard, like breaking down a chicken, right? Split at the joints.”

The analogy is lost on Flip, because as much as you love your friend, he cannot cook to save his life. Flip isn’t one to smile, and he doesn’t smile then, but you know he’s agreed with you because he looks around, tries to find something.

“Hold on.” He runs across the yard, finds one of the sheds that’s tucked against the back wall of one of the main buildings.

You stand there and wait, arms crossed, staring down at Josh. While Flip searches for whatever it is he’s looking for, you just grow more and more angry, watching rain flood the spaces in the dips of his shoulders.

“Fuck you.” You say to his lifeless body, “You say I embarrassed you? You tormented me. I wish I could have killed you myself. You’re lucky Flip did it, I wouldn’t have been so merciful.”

You don’t know what’s come over you, but the words sound like the most truthful ones you’ve ever told this boy, this husk of a monster, a wolf in sheep’s clothing. You can’t help yourself, spitting onto the ground in his direction, sneering through the rain, blinking it and the shocked fury out of your eyes.

Flip returns with an axe, brand new from the looks of it. The blade glints in the floodlight, freshly polished metal dripping with silver rivers of water as Flip swings it lightly in his hand.

“This should work, fuck, okay. Okay. Okay alright okay, you come over here, stand over here I don’t want you getting hurt accidentally.” He’s steeling himself, psyching himself up for this, and you put a hand on his back to calm him.

“Want me to do it?” You offer, not knowing the first fucking things about even how to hold an axe, let alone swing one.

“No, no let me.” Flip huffs out a laugh, shakes his head. You can’t help but feel silly for asking, you know there’s no way you’d have the upper body strength to cut through a person. You’d never even chopped wood before, and well, Flip was an actual lumberjack.

“Okay, I can count to three?” You acquiesce with a tremor in your voice.

“Please.” Flip whispers, getting the body into position.

You stand where Flip tells you, a little ways away, as he raises the axe high above his head.

“One…”

There’s a ringing in your ears, a pounding in your chest. You’re doing this, you’re really doing this, you can’t help but think. Flip plants his feet firmly on the ground, takes in a deep breath. You can see his hands flex and grip the handle, as he liens himself up.

“Two…”

Your face shakes, teeth rattling in your skull from where your jaw chatters, shivers in the cold. It’s so bright, so bright with all the floodlights, you feel like you’re being watched, you feel like you can hear the whispers, the murmurs of ghosts all around you, the ghost of this monster you’ve killed.

“Three!”

Hot blood sprays from Josh’s shoulder as the axe swings down, cleaves into his shoulder. The blade is bran new, terribly sharp, and it nearly goes all the way through. The bone splinters, you can hear it, can hear it slicing into pieces. Flip pries the blade out and lines himself up again, does not wait this time for your count before taking aim and slamming it into the body again.

Blood hot and thick bubbles up, gurgles around the wound, and when Flip tosses a severed arm away from the rest of the body, despite yourself, you turn around, brace your hands on your knees and throw up. Everything you ate and drank at the party comes back up in an acrid stinging cough that has you nearly choking, but you wipe your mouth with the back of your hand and get yourself together.

You don’t know how Flip has the stomach for this, for it, but he has a steady hand as he works on the other arm, separating it from the body.

The machine is still on, the machine is hungry.

You want to give it what it wants, you want to see the spray out the other end. Without waiting for his instruction, you pick up the arm, grab it by the wrist. You make sure there’s no jewelry, no watches or anything that could get jammed, and you rush it over to the woodchipper, drop it into the basin.

The sound it makes is horrific, the sick squelch and crunch of bone, the shredding shredding shredding of the blades. Mincemeat blasts out the other end, and even as some of it sprays back against the wind, even as some of it lands on your face, speckles of blood and guts and shards of crushed bone, you find that you’re grinning, because it worked.

“Another one, give me another one.” You say eagerly, holding a hand out to Flip.

He smiles too, eyes too bright, as he gives you Josh’s other arm, hacked away in nice clean segments. He watches as you dump the second arm into the machine, gets to see as it eats up the flesh, grinds and slashes it into nothingness, watches as the bits of this man land in wet smacks on the dirt.

Piece by piece, you obliterate the monster that had tormented you for months.

Piece by piece, you free yourself of the hurt and pain, the lies and manipulation he shackled you with.

Piece by piece, you destroy the evidence, watch as it washes away, watch as the rain carries it down the drain, into the sewers where he’ll rot among the rats like he deserves.

The rain absolves you and Flip of the muck and grime of the deed, and now that it’s over, now that he’s gone, you close your eyes and tilt your head up towards the sky, letting the rain patter down onto your cheeks, your forehead. You feel clean, though you are cold, so so so cold, the only thing you can focus on is the cleanliness, the relief.

“You never should have fucked with her.” You hear Flip say, and that makes you open your eyes, makes your turn towards him.

Flip looks down to the drain, and you smile, because he looks lighter too.

---------------------------

You’re leaving the lumbermill, when it hits.

You’d been so caught up in the euphoria of getting rid of him, of this man who had made your life a living nightmare for far too long – that you hadn’t stopped once to think of the consequences of these actions.

“I – holy shit I can’t believe we did that.” It slams into your chest, the realization that you’re a murderer, you’re both murderers, you’re going to go to prison for this, they’ll send you to the chair for this, they’ll kill you for this the same way you killed Josh. Your heart races, pounds pounds pounds as dread and terror and fear all come rushing back, all come slamming down inside your brain. “What the fuck did we just do? Flip what did we do?”

Flip must have willpower of steel, because he doesn’t even blink when you whip around to face him, when you immediately freak the fuck out, when you start to hyperventilate, holding the sides of your head.

“It’s okay, it’s fine. Things like this happen. It was an accident that spiraled out of control, it wasn’t your fault, you didn’t do anything wrong.” Flip is calm, so calm, and that almost freaks you out more, maybe you were going to scream, maybe you were already screaming, you don’t know, you don’t know anything except you just murdered a man.

“Oh my god what are they going to say when he doesn’t come back to the party? Or go home?” You panic, shifting around too much in your seat, legs bouncing, back aching from the way you keep twisting and turning, “What’ll they do if they find the pieces of him?”

“You have to breathe it’s going to be okay, we’ll be okay – fuck, what was that?” Flip is cut off by a loud thud, the car coming to a complete stop.

Your eyes begin to well up with tears as you hiccup out terror, hands shaking. You want to slam your fists against the window, want to throw yourself onto the street and beg for forgiveness, you want to be sick, you want to tell Flip to drive and never look back.

“Oh no, oh no no no this is it, this is the karma catching up to us already.” You can feel the tethers of reality start to slip, black splotches dancing in front of your vision – will you pass out? Are you at your limit? You don’t know, you don’t know but the car isn’t moving, it’s not going anywhere no matter how hard Flip pushes on the gas pedal.

“Stay here.” He says, and you’re in no mood, no state to defy the instructions now.

Flip puts the car in park, gets out and shuts the door so water doesn’t come pouring in. You watch him through the warped view of rain on the windows as he walks around the car, his hands on his hips, trying to figure out what the fuck happened.

It doesn’t take him too long to find the problem, and he comes back into the car with a sigh, soaking wet and unsure of what to do.

“We’re stuck.” He tells you, and that’s the last thing you want to hear. A flat tire you knew he could change, even in the rain like this, but being stuck left nothing to do except wait for someone to come un-stick you.

“So we’re stranded out here?” Your voice creeps up higher and higher in octave as the consequences of that stab you through the chest.

You never should have snuck out of home, you lament, hot tears finally stinging the rims of your eyes. You never should have left home through your window, never should have agreed to the party. You never should have agreed to date this fucking guy, you think, because if you hadn’t maybe you’d be safe and warm somewhere, maybe you’d be asleep soundly in your bed and not stranded in the pouring rain, in the middle of you don’t even know where.

“Yes but – but this is good. This is good, this is our alibi. We don’t know anything, because we were stranded in the middle of fucking nowhere in a ditch.” Flip knows you’re freaking out, he knows, he can feel it, can see it, it’s happening right in front of him.

“Wh—what will we say that we were even doing out here? What if someone asks why we’re here in the first place?” Your whole body wracks through with terrified sobs. “They’re going to kill us for this, Flip if they catch us they’re going to kill us – I don’t want to die, I don’t --”

He collects you in his arms and holds you tightly against his chest, rocks you to soothe you, calms you. The rain is unrelenting, and you wonder how much water the sky can hold, how many clouds are up there to maintain such a downpour. Flip’s arms are so warm around your shoulders, and his neck is blazing hot where you tuck your face against it.

“You called me to pick you up from the party, I came, we got lost, wound up here. It’s dark and raining, that’s all the truth.” Flip whispers, “We don’t know anything, we’ve been here, waiting for someone to pass by.”

You nod, because it’s all you can do right now. You had almost forgotten how cold you were, the stark comparison of your own body temperature compared to Flip’s making you feel even colder.

“I’m f-f-freezing.” You say, because you don’t have anything else to say, and Flip hums in the back of his throat.

“I don’t have any spare clothes, I’m sorry.” He frowns, but then you pull away for a moment, begin stripping off your dress. You peel away the layers until you’re in your bra and underwear, just wanting the wet cold fabric off of your skin. Flip’s hands drop from your body, and he nervously looks away with a very gentlemanly, “What are you doing?”

“I’m sorry – I just – I figured maybe if we use body heat – ” You explained, suddenly feeling stupid, feeling unwanted, feeling --

“Don’t stop, I’ll do it too, if you want. I’ll keep you warm.” Flip nods, understands what you’re doing now, what you mean. He looks at you cautiously, not ever wanting to be imposing, not wanting to make you comfortable. “Only if you want.”

You lick your lips and nod, and in mere moments, he’s shedding his clothes too, until he’s just in his underwear.

Flip climbs over the bench seat and lands in the back, laying down on his back and spreading out. There’s significantly more room in the back seat, and without another thought, you unclip the straps of your bra, letting your breasts breathe, before arranging all the clothes in the direct line of the heater so they might have a chance to dry, before climbing over too.

Flip welcomes you with open arms, and as you settle against him, body flush with his, your heart pounds. He rubs your back, warms you with his palms, palms which feel like the most comforting iron brand, heating you through.

“You know…” You whisper, listening to the sound of his breathing and the rain that pitter-patters onto the roof of the car, “I’ve been thinking about doing something like that to him for a long time.”

“Yeah?” Flip asks, voice thick.

You’re nuzzled against his chest, feeling the most safe that you ever have. The panic has subsided for now, for now at the very least.

“Yeah. It was never a real idea that I had, at least not in the beginning. But more and more lately, I’ve been thinking about how good it would feel if he were gone forever. I don’t know what I ever saw in him. I guess I just…I liked that someone liked me, wanted me. It felt good to be wanted, for a minute there.” You’re honest with Flip. Sometimes it feels like Flip is the only person you can ever be honest with.

“Just a minute?” He asks softly, teasing and playful in a way that makes you want to cry.

“Yeah, just a minute.” You whisper back, propping your head up onto your hands, looking at him.

“There are…other people, you know. Who are out there, who like you. Want you.” He looks back at you, eyes filled with apprehension, but hope.

“People like you?” You ask, hope in your own lungs, in your heart.

“Yeah, people like me.” Flip nods, caresses the back of your head with his strong, capable hand.

“You know, the entire time I’ve been with him, I wished I were with you.” You confess, because now feels like as good a time to confess something as any, doesn’t it? What’s this admittance, compared to the thing you have just done together?

“This isn’t the shock talking, is it?” Flip’s hand smooths around to hold your cheek, pinch at the apple of your smile, because you are smiling now, smiling how he hasn’t rejected you, how he never would have, now you know.

“No, no I promise. This is me talking.” You turn your face into his palm and press a light kiss to the creases in his hand, those hands, the hands which have only ever protected you, defended you, loved you.

“Why are you crying?” Flip frowns, confused, worried, but you shake your head, unable to stop, unable to quit the smile, the tears.

“Because I’ve dreamt about being in your arms like this for what feels like forever, and I – I kept thinking that there’s no way you could ever want me, I thought I was just delusional for thinking maybe we could be something. And here you are, coming to my rescue, the way you always do, and we’ve just killed a man but all I want to do is kiss you.” You huff out a laugh, a laugh that’s tinged with regret for the past, all the time that could have been.

“Can I?” Flip asks suddenly then, innocent and gentle, “Can I kiss you?”

“Oh Flip, yes, please.” You nod, pushing yourself up a few more inches so that your lips can meet.

They press together in the softest, sweetest of kisses, and all at once it feels like the gates of your heart have been unlocked, and all the love you feel flows out with wild abandon.

Flip deepens the kiss when your mouth opens in a small gasp, and you let yourself be rolled underneath him. The car rocks a little from the effort, but you don’t care. A kiss or two becomes making out, and you feel your head fill with the thick perfume of lust, your whole body warm now, on fire almost. His mouth is hot, tongue thick and heavy against yours, but he tastes delicious, tastes like home.

He kisses you until your breathing begins to quicken, until the smallest noises start to moan and hum in the back of your throat. Your nipples are stiff, so hard from where they’re brushing against his chest, your arms looping around his shoulders, legs parting so he can settle between them.

“Did…did you two ever…?” He pulls away, lips kiss-slick and flushed, and you blink, forgetting all about your boyfriend, or one you used to have.

“No, no I didn’t want to, it didn’t feel right. Not with him.” You tell him honestly, suddenly feeling inexperienced, feeling self-conscious, “Have you?”

“No, I’ve been waiting for the right person.” Flip shocks you by blushing out his own truth. Your eyebrows shoot up, you really would have pegged him for a womanizer type, he was certainly handsome enough for it. But thinking back, you realize in all the time you’ve known him, he’s never once mentioned a girlfriend or even a fling, nothing. It’s always just been you, and him. Flip blushes deeper when you don’t say anything right away, stammers out, “I know it’s cheesy.”

“It’s not cheesy.” You shake your head quickly, dismissing the idea that you’d make fun of him for something like that. You’re relived, it means you can be together for the first time truly together.

You kiss him, invigorated, no longer feeling shy or inadequate. He kisses you back, and when your eyes close there’s nothing but the welcoming embrace of his warmth and affection to pull you in. Your mouths and tongues slide against one another, and your hips raise up, your underwear rubbing against his, wishing there were no barrier between you.

“We don’t have to if you don’t want to, I don’t ever want to pressure you or – ” Flip shakes his head, so caring, worried, nipping at the corners of your mouth.

“Maybe, maybe you could just touch me? Just for now, touch me and then, then we can see where we go.” You’re desperate for him though, desperate for him in every way.

He smiles against your mouth, and you smile too, his hands sliding down your body. He shuffles back a little, straddling your hips, knees digging into the upholstery as his hands roam your body, touch where he didn’t have permission to touch before.

He’s drawn to your breasts immediately, kneads them. He licks his lips and rolls your nipples between his fingers, and your back only arches for him, pushes your chest up into his hands further. His breathing is heavy, and you decide that you’re tired of holding yourself back from the things that you want – after this, after tonight, you won’t deny yourself anything ever again, you’ve spent so much time bending to the will of other people, from now on you are going to ask for what you want.

You cup the back of Flip’s head and push him down, gently nudge him. He takes the hint, immediately nuzzles his face into your cleavage, rubs against your breasts. His mouth latches around one of your nipples and he kisses and licks and sucks, and you moan, the pleasure going straight to your pussy.

So does his hand, tentatively skimming over your panties until your legs spread enough to give him permission. He tugs the cotton aside and you hiccup out a little cry of pleasure when he reverently pushes his fingers through your folds, pushes his way through into the tight wet heat of your cunt.

“Oh, oh, that feels good.” Your eyes fly open, hand tangling in his hair where he makes out with your breasts, grunting and groaning with need that the praise spurs in him. His fingers are more insistent, more purposeful, and his thumb swirls over your clit making your hips lift up up up against his hand. “Yes, yes! Flip – do that again, please do that again.”

“Good?” Flip lifts his head from where he’s been smothering himself in your tits, eyes so big and brown, eager to please.

“So good! Phil, it’s so good, I’ve wanted this for so – ah!—long.” Your head tips back against the seat as your toes curl, his fingers moving faster, your stomach expanding with each deep breath you take, trying to suck down the air, trying to lose yourself in the bright white hot light of pleasure.

“This doesn’t count as our first time, okay?” Flip bites a mark around the bottom of your ribs.

“Okay.” You grin, elated that this means maybe maybe maybe he’ll want to have sex with you again, maybe he’ll fuck you with his cock. Maybe he’ll want you forever, maybe he’ll ask you out and take you on dates and do all the things that you’ve always hoped but never dared to dream for.

“I want our first time to be sweet and good and gentle, and not in the back-seat of this car.” He fingers you faster and faster, and you struggle to pay attention to his words because his fingers are so thick and so full and they know just where to touch you to get your feet searching for purchase as you moan and whine and gasp. “I’m going to take you out to dinner and then a movie, and then I’m going to make love to you on a big bed with rose petals like you deserve.”

“Oh fuck – I’m – I’m gonna – ” You gasp out, hips rolling, undulating against his palm, grinding your pussy against the warmth of his hand to chase your orgasm, your body thick with pleasure, sweet and sticky like molasses in your veins.

“Come on my fingers, it’s okay, you’re okay.” Flip encourages you, presses a little harder, moves a little faster, the car shaking shaking shaking from the way your body trembles, rain thudding against the roof as your orgasm crashes through you, a wave of nothing but good, nothing but love.

“Fl-Flip!” You shout, eyes shut tight, the first couple hints of tears clinging to your lashes.

“You’re so beautiful, holy shit.” Flip strokes your pussy through it, coaxes out come that shines on his palm, shimmers on your inner thighs. He kisses your neck, your chest, bites and sucks and marks you so thoroughly, marks you as his, you’re his you’re his and he’s yours and, “(Y/N) you’re – you’re so beautiful.”

“Can I, I want you to come too, I want you to feel good too.” You try, you offer, but he’s still sliding his fingers through your pussy, two – no, three? -- stretching you wide, stretching you for him, for his cock. You want it, you want it so badly, want to be filled, but an aftershock of pleasure builds builds builds and you’re not sure it’s just an aftershock anymore, as your toes curl again, knees shaking, bones aching to come again, “Flip I’m, I think I’m – oh!”

“No, it’s okay, you don’t have to do anything for me, this is more than enough, you’re more than enough, thankyouthankyouthankyou.” He smudges the words into your chest, your throat, litters you with sweet nothings and gratitude, and you want to ask for his dick right then and there –

But there’s a sound, coming from the window.

A knock on the window.

Someone is there, knocking.

“Wait – what was that?” You freeze, the rose-tinted glasses ripped off.

Flip carefully pulls his hand away from your pulsing cunt, sucks your come off of his fingers until they’re clean. He reaches for something, anything, to cover you with, to cover himself with.

“Cop.” Flip says quietly, and you want to panic but he shakes his head, “Don’t, it’s okay, follow my lead.”

You are suddenly very very aware, of what you both look like. Flip with his torn up fists, you with the split lip and wound on your temple. You’ve both finally stopped bleeding, but you know – you just know – that this officer is going to question you on it, normal people don’t go driving around in the rain with head wounds and split knuckles.

Fuck, you think, you haven’t even cleaned the car yet, there’s bound to be blood in the trunk from where the body had been stashed, what if the officer decided to search the car? There were no weapons in the car, but there didn’t need to be. Your stomach does little flutters of panic as the impending anxiety drips cold down your spine, and just hide yourself behind Flip’s denim jacket, cover up as much as you can, cover your face.

Flip rolls down the window, and a flashlight peers inside the car for a few moments, before you hear a resigned sigh.

“Alright you kids, come on, break it up.” The cop says, tapping his flashlight on the roof of the car. “The middle of the road isn’t the place for this kind of shit, let’s go.”

“Our car is stuck, we’ve been waiting for someone to drive past to ask for help. Could you help give us a push?” Flip asks, and the officer looks at him like he’s crazy.

“No.” The man scoffs, before sighing again, realizing that he can’t just leave the two of you out here. “But I’ll call someone. Then off you go, okay? It’s late.”

“Thank you.” Flip says, and then, like some miracle, the cop goes back to his car, radios for a tow, and leaves.

---------------------------

You both are dressed by the time the tow arrives and pulls you out of the mud. Leaving the clothes in front of the heater did wonders, and though your dress is still fucking filthy and caked in mud, it’s not freezing, or soaked. You feel awful, Flip’s dad is going to be pissed when he sees the car like this, but Flip assures you that he’ll have Jimmy help deep clean the whole thing before his parents come home after the weekend.

The tow truck driver doesn’t ask any questions, doesn’t really talk to you at all. By the time he arrives, the rain has stopped, slowed enough as the storms moved across the mountains. You don’t say anything, just sit there and wait for the wheels to come free, holding your breath until the tow driver leaves too.

The radio is soft and gentle, the time on the little clock reads just past three. Flip drove all the way to your house with a hand on your knee, reassuring, comforting. You can’t help but think it feels so different from Josh’s hand, how gentle Flip’s hold is on you. You wonder if he’s trying to ground himself, or keep you calm. Maybe it’s both.

He shuts the lights off and the radio when he rounds the corner. Puts the car in park, and the two of you walk the last few yards to your house. It’s not raining anymore, not at all. That feels like a good sign, somehow.

“Will you come in?” You ask him softly, standing under the streetlamps, careful not to step on cracks in the sidewalk.

“If you want me.” Flip nods, and you smile, and he smiles, because you both know that you always will.

The climb up through the window is a little difficult because of how wet everything is from the rain, but you both manage easily. Your bedroom is warm, and you both shed your clothes in the tub of your private bathroom, knowing your parents wouldn’t ever look in there. You want to shower desperately, but doing so this late would raise suspicion, so you don’t, you’ll have to wait until morning.

But that’s alright, because for now it’s enough to be in clean clothes. Sheepishly, you offer Flip some of his own clothes, clothes that you’ve accumulated over all the time you’ve known him; jackets accidentally forgotten on your couch, sleep shirts and pajama pants he let you borrow that you never returned.

Flip doesn’t tease you for them, he only accepts them gratefully, and the two of you lay down on your bed in the dark. You face one another, so close that your noses almost touch. He’s so handsome, you think. You’ve always thought it, but up close, this close, it’s like the thought consumes your whole mind.

“We can’t ever tell anyone about this, ever. Not even when we’re old. This is something we take to the grave.” You whisper, rubbing the tip of your nose against his.

“Agreed.” He breathes, tucking some of your hair behind your ear. You lean into the touch, lean into him.

“I don’t want to think what would have happened if you didn’t show up.” You confess, and in the silence of the room, the thought of what might have been is more terrifying than anything you two had done together. Flip is quiet, but his jaw clenches as he gently touches the closed wound on your temple. You don’t know what prompts it, but suddenly you’re asking, “Do you believe in alternate universes?”

“Hm?” Flip frowns, and you shrug in the dark.

“You know, like, a different version of our world, existing in some other dimension out in space.” You explain, shuffling close to him, tucking yourself under his chin.

“I never thought about it.” He admits with a shrug of his own and you close your eyes against his throat, warming yourself with his heat as his arms wrap around you.

“Maybe there’s a world where this never happened.” You whisper, “Maybe there’s a version of us out there that never had to do this. Maybe there’s a universe where we’ve always been together.”

“We can be together now, here in this one. If you want.” Flip whispers back, and you can feel the rabbit of his pulse jump jump jumping in his chest, and you smile.

“Phil?” You ask, not opening your eyes, not moving, barely breathing, “I love you.”

“I love you too.” He responds right away, with enough feeling behind the words to make you think that maybe he’s loved you just as long as you have loved him, maybe even longer.

A grin spreads across your face as you snuggle up closer to him, impossibly close, suppressing a thrilled little bubble of laughter as he cards his fingers through your hair.

“You’re stuck with me now, you know that? Forever.” You tease with a smile in your voice – but you both know there’s some truth to it. No matter what happens, you’re bonded by this, this nightmare of an evening.

“Happy New Year, (Y/N).” Flip teases right back, kissing the top of your head, before you reach up to kiss him properly.

---------------------------

When the sun rises the next morning and you find him gone from your bedroom, tub empty of soiled clothing and the car driven away to the cleaners, you aren’t afraid, because there’s a note on your nightstand written in the most incomprehensible handwriting that could only be Flip’s, asking you on a date, and a brand new pair of heels to wear for it.

And when they ask about Josh you’ll say you don’t know, and when they launch the investigation you’ll testify lies, and when you attend his funeral you might shed a tear, but only only only if Flip’s there by your side, so you can stand behind him, and hide your smile.

You don't own me

I'm not just one of your many toys

You don't own me

Don't say I can't go with other boys

You don't own me

You don’t own me

You don’t own me.

---------------------------

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imaginesandinserts · 3 years

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Irreverent Pt. 38 - Miss Me

Title: Irreverent Pt. 38 - Miss Me Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Reader Rating: M Words: 7380

Irreverent Series Masterlist

Working with another team was weird and uncomfortable. You'd never quite realized how many men there were in the Bureau. The BAU had always been almost fifty-fifty so you'd never really felt like the only woman save for the few months JJ and Emily had been away. Even then you'd had Garcia in your ear most times and it wasn't as though Hotch, Derek, Rossi, and Reid had ever once felt threatening or belittled you.

McKinney had put you on a local taskforce for the week while Hotch and the team went off to a case in Nevada. There was an embezzlement ring being conducted out of the back of various DC gentlemen's clubs and you had been asked to tag along and create a profile for the ring leader. From the second you'd arrived at the location where the taskforce members were set up, you'd been questioned at every turn. Every single thing you said, ignored. Every suggestion you made, brushed off. It had been like that all week. The only thing that made it bearable was being able to go home every night and hang out with Jack.

You have to call Mrs. Avery Thursday afternoon and tell her that you won't be making it home in time for dinner. You'd been at work since seven in the morning and all signs pointed to you being able to close in on the suspect. The team had been able to use a paper trail and using the details of the profile you'd created (not that you got any credit for it) had managed to tighten the noose. The arrest was quick but the interrogation lasted till late that night. Every single time you asked to be let into the interrogation room, your request was denied.

By the time you walked through the door, you had been on your feet for hours and couldn't wait to just crawl into bed. The house was dimly lit and you knew Jack would be long asleep. You'd have to apologize to Mrs. Avery for keeping her so late.

"You're home," Aaron's voice startles you as you closed the door. He's sitting on the couch wearing his pajamas, a case file in one hand and a glass of scotch in the other, reading by the single light in the corner of the room.

You can feel the tension leaving your body as he smiles at you, his eyes crinkling at the corners. Dropping your bag and toeing off your shoes you walk over to him, grabbing both the file and the scotch away and placing them on the coffee table, before climbing into his lap facing him and wrapping yourself around him.

He's a little surprised, but quickly folds his legs up to hold you closer, bringing his arms around you. "Rough week?" he asks his voice low and calm, as you burrow your head into the crook of his neck.

Later, you'd tell him all about the case and Agent Jones being an asshole and how much working without him sucked. Later you'd tell him that you weren't sure about what Jones was going to tell McKinney about your performance and that you're worried. He would remind you that not everyone knew how capable you were and that sometimes you have to get in people's faces a bit, even if they intimidate you. Jones trusted men more than women, but would respect you more if you stood up to him and called him out. He would remind you that you still had the best interview he'd ever seen and ask you where that girl was, the one that had left them all speechless. Later, he'd tell you how proud he was of you for venturing out and doing all of this on your own.

However right then, you only nod, so he lets you be, holding you tighter.

*------------*

You'd become friendly with McKinney's assistant, Gladys Prince, who liked her coffee to be a white mocha, thank you kindly. It was because of her, that the next day you arrived at work wearing a dress, red lips, and five inch heels which resulted in Emily asking if you and Hotch were about to do some boss secretary roleplay after everyone else left. You chose not to dignify that with an answer.

You had a feeling you were about to be pulled into a case today, based on Penelope being in and out of Hotch's office, and that was making you anxious. You were annoying Spencer with how erratically your fingers moved across your keyboard. He glared at you from across the way and opened his mouth to say something snarky, when Hotch called everyone up to be briefed on the case. Crap.

The words "Wheels up in 30" had never annoyed you quite so much. He couldn't have pushed this by an hour? You return to your desk to gather your stuff and you're just about to accept defeat, when there's a voice right next to your ear.

"Hello love."

You have to bite back your smirk before you turn around. "Clyde!" You quickly stand to greet him with a hug and a kiss on the cheek. You can see the slight surprise on his face as he takes you in, before he greets Reid, Derek, and Emily behind you.

"Clyde," Emily stands to meet him, "what're you doing here?"

"Oh just in the neighborhood. Thought I'd pop by and say hello to my favorite FBI agents," he smirks and winks in your direction, resulting in you giggling and tucking your hair behind your hair.

Derek comes over as well to shake his hand while Spencer waves and walks off to fetch JJ for the drive over to the airport.

"It's a shame you just got here," you say, placing a delicate hand to his arm. "We're about to fly out for a case. How long are you in town for?"

"I'll be here a week. Wrap up quick and let's grab drinks when you're back?" he asks, quirking an eyebrow in your direction.

You smile, biting your lip. "Definitely."

You all said your goodbyes to him and you walked up the stairs to grab Hotch and Rossi for the ride over to the airport.

You're sat next to Hotch in your usual seat as he wraps up the preliminary profile discussion on the plane, when Derek and Emily finally turn to you.

"So, what was that earlier with you and Easter?" Derek asks, with a glance in Hotch's direction as if to gauge whether or not he's listening.

You have to suppress an eyeroll. They'd been so very obvious with their curiosity ever since they'd watched you talking to Clyde. However, you didn't really feel like telling them quite so easily. Sometimes it's fun to keep people guessing. "What do you mean?" you ask, forcing your voice to be as neutral as possible.

"Oh come on, Y/N," Emily says from across you, "what was with the flirting?"

Wow Em, not like my boyfriend is seated right next to me. But sure, call me out for flirting with someone else.

You have to suppress a smirk at that, knowing Aaron's listening now even though his eyes are on the file in his hand. "Nothing wrong with a little healthy competition," you smirk, nudging Aaron with your elbow.

You can feel Aaron's internal groan at you dragging him into it. "Stop."

"What?" you ask him, thoroughly amused.

He looks up then, not at you but at Emily and Derek. "Easter's leading a joint taskforce between Interpol and the Bureau," he explains in his no nonsense voice that no longer works on you. All you have to do is call him Agent Hotchner and it changes instantly into the deeper, darker tone he reserves just for you. "She," he continues, "wants in."

What a spoilsport.

"You're okay with that?" Derek asks him.

You'd talked to him about Easter earlier - of course you had. He'd even helped pick out the outfit. He had been surprisingly alright with the tactic, which you hadn't quite anticipated. If anything you'd expected some sort of weird jealousy when you'd explained that you and Clyde had gotten to know one another during the time he was away. But of course, Aaron Hotchner was above such base emotions such as jealousy.

He has a small smile on his face as he finally looks in your direction. "I don't control her."

Yeah, okay. Tell that to the guy that practically ordered me to join him in the shower this morning.

Emily scoffs as though she doesn't believe that for even a second. "Bet you'd feel different if you'd seen her. Oh Clyde you're here! Of course we should get drinks."

You narrow your eyes at her. "I don't sound like that."

Derek and Emily exchange looks saying that they think you sound exactly like that.

"Is that really how you want to get the spot though?" JJ asks, apparently having been listening the whole time. Why any of you thought plane conversations were private was a mystery.

You look at her, seated across from Rossi, and scoff. "Please, people already think far worse about me. I might as well have it work in my favor for once." Which was definitely true. You'd been in the bathroom the other day and overheard some very defamatory things about yourself and Director McKinney. The man was married. As if! People needed to get lives.

Aaron tenses a bit at that. He knew your relationship becoming public had definitely been harder on you. The rumor mill was constant and even a professional environment like the Bureau wasn't immune to petty gossip.

"Do you think it'll actually work?" Spencer asks, flipping shut his novel. Apparently this was more interesting for everyone, even him.

Before you can respond, however, Rossi decides to put his two cents in. "Of course it'll work. Look at her with the dress and the fuck-me-heels. You really think any man in his right mind would deny her anything?"

You cringe and color at that. Rossi was basically the closest thing to a father figure you had at this point. A Hugh Hefner shaped father figure, sure, but still. The heels weren't even that bad.

"Gee, thanks Rossi."

Aaron shakes his head in disapproval, turning back to his files, indicating to everyone that this conversation was definitely over.

He feels your hand against his arm and he turns to look at your concerned face. Are you okay?

He nods, but still tucks your hand into the crook of his arm before turning back to his files. He was content with the knowledge that the only man who actually got to see you in nothing but the fuck-me-heels was him.

*------------*

Rossi had been right. Who could deny you anything? Clyde had offered you the spot on the taskforce the second you landed back in DC. Which was great, because it had been the only assignment that you'd actually wanted. It employed your language skills, was interesting, and had the exact amount of visibility to help you move ahead afterwards. Plus, it didn't hurt that you felt very comfortable with Clyde despite his flirty attitude.

Once you'd actually gotten the job, you'd immediately told him you were with Hotch. Fortunately, he'd already known from his conversation with McKinney and had chosen you anyways. You could rest assured that he hadn't chosen you just because he thought he had a shot.

You'd spent three weeks away from the team, only flying back midway so you could be there for Jack's school play. You called Jack and Aaron nightly but it wasn't quite the same. Once this taskforce was over, you'd have to find something more local because otherwise, between you and the BAU team's cases, you and Aaron could easily go months without seeing one another and you didn't really like the thought of that. It felt too close to how things had gone bad with him and Haley.

When you landed back in DC, it was early morning but you knew that by the time you got home, Aaron would be at work and Jack at school. Deciding to surprise him and take advantage of having time off from the assignment with Interpol, you walked into work later in the morning.

"Hey, you're here!" Emily gets up to greet you, placing a quick kiss to your cheek, and the first thing you notice is her hair.

"Hey, you got bangs."

Misconstruing the surprised look on your face, she immediately asks, "Is it that bad?"

"No, sorry. Just surprised. It looks really good," you reassure her, reaching out and touching her shorter hair.

"Sugar, you're back!" You hear Penelope come up from behind you, tablet in hand.

"Hi Pen, long time no see." You'd missed her and the two of you had some tv shows to catch up on once you settled in.

"Come along my little defenders of the earth. We have a case," she says, drawing you all upstairs.

You walk into the briefing room and see everyone else already upstairs around the table. You quickly greet everyone hello and take a seat across from Aaron. He's wearing his grey suit that you love on him and the black tie which happens to match the black top you're wearing but you always tell him black is a cop out - and yet it's nice to see that some things don't change. He has a cup of coffee in front of him that you know is his third of the morning.

He smiles, pleasantly surprised, when he sees you. "Welcome back," he says, his voice warm and inviting and everything you'd missed while you were gone. Hearing his voice on the phone really wasn't good enough.

"Hey," you smile back, before noticing the new face at the table seated next to him. "Hi, I don't think we've met."

Aaron turns to the young blonde girl seated to his right, as if he'd forgotten she even existed. "Y/N, this is the new intern, Natalie Scott. Natalie, this is Agent L/N. She's also part of the team but has been away on another consult."

You rise and reach across the table to shake her hand. Natalie was model pretty with her long blonde hair, giant eyes, and sharp cheekbones with a skirt that reached mid thigh. That definitely is not regulation.

After the briefing, you were hoping to sneak a moment alone with Aaron, however Emily and JJ ask you to drive to the airport with them, insisting that they had some major catching up to do. You shoot Aaron an apologetic smile, conveying that you'd catch him later, before following the two of them and Morgan to the parking garage.

"Alright, so catch me up, what's going on?" you ask as Derek pulls out of the garage, expecting some news from Emily on a new guy.

JJ however is the one to speak first. "What'd you think of Natalie?"

You hadn't been expecting that question to say the least, so you simply shrug. "I don't know enough to think one way or the other," you reply, curious as to why she'd even ask.

"You should watch her," Emily says, leaning around from the front seat.

Your brow furrows as you look at her and JJ and then Derek. Derek is firmly keeping his hands on the steering wheel and looking straight ahead as though he wants nothing to do with whatever is going on.

"Why?" you ask, but you already have a bad feeling about this.

You watch as JJ and Emily exchange a look and have a silent fight about which one of them was going to speak. Emily loses, so she turns back to you to reply. "She's a little…friendly with Hotch."

"What do you mean by friendly?" you ask, now completely confused.

Emily and JJ together explain how Natalie would always bring Hotch coffee. How Natalie always sat next to Hotch, how she angled herself towards him all the time. How she'd reach across the table just to make sure that he got an eyeful of her if he looked up. With each example of Natalie's friendliness you can feel your eyebrows rising slightly higher.

You can tell they were looking out for you, however as you pause and really think it through, you realize that you're not overly concerned. It sounded like Natalie had a little crush on Hotch, which can happen of course. Of all people, you could understand someone having a thing for him. As long as she didn't actually act on it, it was harmless.

"I'm sure it's fine, you guys. Thanks for telling me, but I trust Aaron," you tell them.

You know they're not as unconcerned as you are but they let it go as you all pull into the airplane hangar. You grab your bag and climb the steps, eager to sit down next to Aaron and tell him all about your time away (the parts of it that weren't classified at least). When you get on the plane, you see that Aaron was sat in his usual spot across from Rossi. However, your seat is conspicuously occupied by the leggy blonde intern. You catch Emily throwing a look your way as if to say I told you so. Suppressing your eyeroll, you take a seat on the couch next to Derek instead - you didn't want to sit across from Emily and suffer through her looks the entire plane ride.

"His loss," Derek leans in to whisper to you, throwing a quick wink in your direction.

You shake your head, a smile finally breaking out on your face.

It was a relatively short plane ride to Orlando during which the team spoke through the case details and explored the preliminary profile. You found yourself a little distracted by the way Natalie seemed to always lean across Hotch to grab the files from someone, or the way she brought back a water bottle for him when she sauntered her way to the back of the plane. Now, she was asking him if he wanted a snack - apparently he'd love some pretzels if she was going to be grabbing them. You meet Emily's gaze, knowing she also saw that interaction, and you quickly look away, annoyed that you had let their words get to you. Shifting your focus back to the case, you read through the Medical Examiner's report on the two bodies that had been found, in an attempt to avoid staring at the two people who were now sharing a bag of pretzels. Apparently there was a pretzel shortage.

You volunteered yourself and Derek to go talk to the witnesses once you'd landed, knowing Hotch would want to keep Reid for the geographic profile and you didn't want to risk jumping the gun and asking Rossi what was up with Natalie. Emily and JJ were simply out of the question as they kept throwing looks at you, not at all subtly. Derek really was your best option. This way you could spend the majority of the day driving around and not have to watch as Natalie's long and shapely legs strutted around as if she was walking a runway. Who was that tall?

Derek - bless him - had picked up on your mood and very kindly changed the subject to your assignment and how you'd liked Paris. You'd spent a summer in Paris during college so you had spent your time off visiting old haunts and discovering new pastry shops. You'd managed to squeeze in a cooking lesson with a renowned pastry chef known for her pistachio croissants and were planning on making them when you return for the whole team. Derek was definitely excited about that.

The two of you had called in your findings throughout the day and met up with the rest of the team at the hotel lobby in the evening. You walk in to find everyone congregated together while Hotch is on a call. It looked like Natalie had been sent to fetch the room keys as you could see her speaking with the front clerk.

"I can't wait to take a shower. What's taking so long?" JJ was standing, leaning against Emily, the two of them looking worse for wear.

"What happened to you two?" Derek asks, handing you your bag that he'd carried over from the parking garage.

The two of them glance at one another and you can tell that whatever happened had to be embarrassing for at least one of them. JJ is the one to explain how they'd had to literally chase down a lead through downtown and that Emily had ended up tripping down a fire escape and falling into a compost dumpster. It seemed she hadn't taken well to JJ's teasing, as JJ was just as trash-covered and smelly as her. Your face scrunches up as you get a waft, and you quickly shift to stand across instead of next to them.

It appeared that Hotch had finished up his call as he was walking towards you, when he's intercepted by Natalie. "Sir, it seems the hotel booked us one room short and they're all out of extra space. But it should be fine. I won't mind sharing with you, if that's alright."

You are so incredibly grateful that you'd turned away from them and had only heard what she said to him. Your eyebrows are fully in your hairline and your jaw drops open. Both JJ and Emily's faces are a mirror of yours. You have to really force yourself to not turn around and react impulsively - telling her to go back to Whoresville would probably be crossing a giant professional boundary. However you might be warranted because who else would proposition their boss in that manner? If she'd wanted to simply be helpful and accommodating, why not offer to bunk with one of the girls? Her voice had been far too sultry to be even remotely professional. Your teeth are quite literally biting into your tongue and you know that you'll have angry crescent shaped marks in your palms from how tightly clenched your fists have become. The sheer audacity!

"Ms. Scott," Hotch's voice is cool, professional, detached, "will you please step aside with me for a moment?"

You can hear the sound of her heels against the marble floor as her and Hotch walk slightly away from the rest of the group. Everyone is quiet and they're either watching you or Hotch and Natalie's interaction, which you refuse to turn and be a spectator to. It felt like giving away some power, for her to see you watching her in this moment. It was better to be entirely disengaged. You quickly schooled your face and relaxed your posture into one of unbothered indifference. They might all see through it, but so what? At least a stranger wouldn't be able to read what had happened just by the expression on your face.

"Here are everyone's room keys." Hotch arrives back with Natalie trudging behind him, and hands out keys to everyone but you. He has the key to your room in his hand. You don't look in Natalie's direction as you square your shoulders and follow Hotch's long strides down the hallway to your room. He'd kept the first floor one for the two of you, making it an easy central location for the rest of the team if need be.

"You can take first shower," you tell him, as he opens the door to your room and lets you in. They're the first words you've spoken directly to him that haven't been about the case since the briefing that morning. You can hear the slight edge in your tone and you know he can tell something is off as well.

Hotch only nods at you, before setting his bag down and heading off to the bathroom. As you hear the sound of the shower turning on, you force yourself to breathe in and out to help relax your mind and body. You're upset. You know you are. You're not sure how you feel about Natalie at the moment, aside from thinking her to be incredibly unprofessional. However you are still upset, and you come to the realization that its Hotch whom you're upset with. Hotch who had spent the past three weeks ignoring the signs of this girl's crush until it culminated in him being literally asked to bed her. Did he really ignore it though? Or did he enjoy the attention? Attention he wasn't getting from you, that's for sure. Hard to give your boyfriend attention when you're working in an entirely different country…

Aaron had watched you all day - from the moment you'd shown up back at work till the second you'd walked through the hotel room ahead of him. When you'd arrived that morning you'd been happy, cheerful, the promise of things to share radiating behind your gaze. He'd been happily surprised that you'd landed back ahead of schedule and even decided to hop onto the case with them. It would be nice to have you back - he'd spent the past three weeks really coming to terms with the fact that you were not on the team anymore. Sure you helped when you're around but he knew that if you got pulled into your other assignment, that would take precedence now. He didn't begrudge you that, despite how much both him and Jack missed you while you were away.

However, on the plane, you'd barely looked his way. Of course the intern girl had taken the seat next to him, and he couldn't be rude and ask his twenty one year old new employee to go sit somewhere else. Once you'd all landed, instead of sticking around the precinct you'd been away all day and he couldn't help but feel that something was off. Something had happened between the time the team had received the case and the plane ride to Florida and he couldn't possibly imagine what.

Then, of course, the intern had stepped out of line. She'd asked him to share a hotel room with her as though he wasn't her superior and it wouldn't be entirely inappropriate. Though, he had to admit, based on her body language she wouldn't mind him being inappropriate with her. He had had her step aside and explained to her that the hotel hadn't been one room short - that you and him were in a relationship and would be sharing. That what she'd said was inappropriate, however he would ignore it and pretend it didn't happen. The girl had been barely apologetic, not meeting his eyes. Instead, she had looked over at the group - at you - as though you had personally wronged her. There wasn't much to be done about that. If she continued to be this way, he'd have to ask Strauss to place her on a different team.

However, it was really you who his mind was invaded by as the two of you walked down the hallway and to the room. He hadn't had you to himself all day and he was looking forward to catching up, saying hello properly. However, the edge in your voice when you spoke gave him pause. Something was still wrong and he couldn't for the life of him imagine what it could be. Maybe something was going on with JJ or Prentiss. They had wanted to talk to you about something urgently after all.

He'd gone to take a shower, hoping that maybe all you needed was a moment to yourself, however when he exited you'd quickly brushed by him and shut the door to the bathroom behind you. He changed and got into bed, carrying the files from his bag with him. He'd made it through a reread of the Medical Examiner's report when you exited the bathroom, your towel wrapped around you. He watched, a little apprehensively, as you pulled out clothes from your bag and then unwrapped the towel from around you. Your skin was pinked all over from how much you'd scrubbed it, your hair still dripping wet. He found his eyes watching a single drop of water as it fell from your hair, trailed its way down the side of your neck, over the swell of your breasts, only to be covered by the little blush nightie that you slipped on. He hadn't seen you in three weeks and he could feel himself get uncomfortably aroused as his eyes followed the sway of your hips when you went to grab a bottle of water and then pushed yourself up onto the desk, facing him. Your face was composed as you took a small sip, your eyes unwavering in their appraisal of him.

"How long has she been flirting with you?" you finally ask, setting down the bottle of water and looking directly at him.

Aaron's face betrays his puzzlement at the question. You were undoubtedly asking about the intern but he couldn't imagine why that would even matter. "A while," he answers hesitantly. Were you jealous? He couldn't imagine that to be the case - not with you and especially not over the intern.

"Why did you let it go on for so long?" Your words are accusing and yet your voice doesn't change from its even cadence.

He's unsure of what to say and ends up blurting out the first words that come to mind. "Are you jealous?" He immediately regrets even voicing the thought as your eyes flash with the promise of a reckoning.

"No. I'm upset." You take a small leap down from the desk and walk over to him, standing at the edge of the bed. "I am upset, because instead of shutting her down immediately when you noticed her behavior, you allowed it to continue to the point at which she quite literally asked you to fuck her in front of the entire team." Your voice trembles ever so slightly and your jaw is locked into place. "She must have been given quite some leeway if she felt it was alright to do that."

Aaron's not sure what to say. He had let it go on too long, but it wasn't because he enjoyed the attention. He had never been on the receiving end of such blatant advances from a relative stranger and he'd felt uncomfortable assuming anything untoward, even though he'd known. How could he not? The intern was utterly transparent.

He's quiet for a moment as he watches your hands start to fidget with the fabric of your nightgown. Had he known how upset you'd be by this, he'd have shut her down immediately. He could hear the hurt in your voice and understood the betrayal you must have felt, thinking he was somehow enjoying the attention of some young girl. That was hardly the case.

However, before he can reassure you of this, he sees you place a knee on the bed and quickly straddle him, hands on his shoulders for support. He conceals his surprise incredibly poorly. He's half hard and he knows you felt him as your eyes lock on his and you grind yourself against him torturously teasing him. Your lips meet his in a bruising, punishing kiss, teeth biting his lower lip and drawing open a moan, making way for your tongue to harshly explore him.

He instinctively moves his hands to your waist to draw you in closer, and that's when you finally move away, your eyes swirling with fury, hurt, and something else that makes a knot start to coil in his stomach.

"No." You reach down and move his hands away from your waist and up towards the headboard. "You obviously didn't miss me. You don't get to touch."

How could you possibly think he hadn't missed you? He was half hard from just a look at you. He opens his mouth to contradict you, but you cover his mouth with yours again, drawing a groan from him. Pulling back, you fix him with a firm gaze. "I don't want to hear what you have to say, either."

Aaron is now impossibly hard, his pants tenting uncomfortably as his hips rut up into you. He nods, agreeing to follow your rules - for now at least. He tries to keep his hands away, focusing instead on the pleasant weight of you on top of him. The way your breasts press against him and the way the silk of your nightie feels against his stomach, causing a flurry of butterflies to explode there. Your touch tonight had been sharp, demanding, focused only on getting to whatever end you have in mind.

Your lips trailed down from his lips to his neck, biting and sucking in a way that tests every amount of self control he has. He knows you're leaving marks and is grateful that you still have the presence of mind to focus your attention to parts of him that will be covered by his shirt collar. Your hands brush his arms, his chest, his stomach - causing every muscle to tense and flex under your agonizing touch. You're slow and deliberate with your attentions, as if each kiss, each lick, each bite is designed to drive him insane.

Your hands reach the top of his waistband and he tilts up, helping you push the garment down his hips, revealing his weeping cock at full mast. You don't give him a moment's respite as you move to position yourself over him, using his shoulders as leverage. You lower yourself on him excruciatingly slow - the warm, wet, velvety feel of you encompassing him entirely. He groans, loud and deep, unable to contain himself, as you bottom out completely. You hadn't been as wet as usual and he can tell the stretch is just this side of painful for you from the wince on your face as you settle onto his lap and the way your short nails dig into his skin.

He looks down and sees how your nightgown flows around your hips, draping over his lap and covering where the two of you are connected in a manner he finds incredibly erotic. He finds himself focusing on the movement of the fabric as you push yourself up, your lips attaching themselves to a spot right on his collarbone. The need to touch you is overwhelming and he finds himself forming fists with his hands, his nails making crescent shaped marks in the skin of his palms, to keep himself from reaching out.

You're breathing heavily against his ear as you ride him and he can tell you're stifling every natural sound that's begging to be released. You didn't want to give him the satisfaction. You were only interested in chasing yours.

It won't be long for him now, not with how tight you are and how your walls have fluttered around him every time. He can feel your growing need based on the pace you're setting for yourself - you're furiously chasing your high and he can tell you won't reach it. Not without some help.

He surprises you by grabbing your face and forcing you to look at him. There are unshed tears in your eyes and the frustration is clear in your face. You open your mouth to say something - likely to tell him off for touching you. He doesn't care anymore. Fuck the rules.

"Sweetheart, let me help, please." His voice is unbearably gentle as he speaks, his hand warm against your cheek. But no. He didn't get to do this. He didn't get to - the thought dies in your head as he kisses you - soft, gentle - a complete contrast to how you'd started the night.

You pull away, still determined to simply use him. Punish him by not letting him touch you.

He can feel the fight in your body and see the stubbornness in your posture. But he couldn't let you not finish. Not when he was so achingly close. Not when it was so desperately what you wanted. So Aaron decides to try something he never has before.

"Sweetheart, let Daddy help you."

The result is instantaneous. You still entirely. Your breath stutters. He feels your hands tremble against him. Your eyes - your eyes widen and look at him. You blink and for a second he has no idea what you're thinking. Then they open agonizingly slowly and he can see that your warm, welcoming eyes are entirely glazed over. Gone are the unshed tears, replaced by something that seems entirely, wantonly, lost.

"Daddy's going to take care of you," he repeats himself, moving his hands to circle your waist. There's no fight, no resistance. He lifts you easily and lays you down on the bed, before rolling over on top and positioning himself at your entrance. You look so pretty - soft and small under him - your eyes trained only on him and your pink lips forming a small circle. His mouth meets yours as he pushes in, drawing the first audible moan from you all night. It is like music to his ears. He reaches down on the right and finds your thigh, grabbing it to wrap around him. You instinctively mirror yourself on the other, both legs wrapped loosely around his hips as he thrusts into you.

"You take me so well, sweetheart. So good for me." His voice is like syrup, sweetly dripping down through you.

His hand reaches between your bodies and finds your clit, his thumb circling it and drawing sounds from you that he'd only had in his dreams the past three weeks.

"Such a good girl."

His other hand finds your breasts, working your nipples into tight peaks, pointing through the silk of your clothing. He can't help himself from taking one into his mouth, the fabric cool against his tongue as he licks and bites you through it. He sees your eyes roll backwards before your head tilts away from him.

You're entirely mindless, floating on a cloud ever since Aaron took control. The drag of him inside you is painfully euphoric. Every touch ignites a fire and you can feel your orgasm growing - a crescendo in your body that completely takes over as your toes curl and your back arches, pushing your breasts even more into his mouth.

You're far too sensitive as your arms cling to him, every nerve entirely aflame as he finishes within you not a moment later. His hand never lets up against your clit and as he takes your other nipple into his mouth, even through his own orgasm, you feel yourself clench once again, overwhelmed by him. Owned by him.

He collapses on top of you, his weight pleasant and welcome against your boneless body. You can feel his seed spilling out of you and you can only guess at how entirely depraved you must look. He slowly rolls off of you, pulling you with him.

Later, when you're both clean and tucked back into bed, his hands playing with your hair and your legs entangled with his, he asks softly, "Was that alright?"

You can feel his hesitancy and uncertainty, and you have to keep yourself from falling asleep against his warmth. You want to be honest with him. "It was," you say slowly. "I'm not sure if I'll ever say it, but I didn't mind you saying it." Actually saying it felt too close to admitting the very real trauma from your father's reign of terror.

He nods understandingly.

"You know that the intern doesn't mean anything, right?" he confirms. You should know that. He knows you know that.

"I do. I just, got scared for a minute. Being away is harder than I thought it would be," you admit.

He hums, pressing a kiss to the palm of your hand. The two of you fell asleep properly for the first time in days.

The next morning, Aaron was on a phone call with the local lead detective when you finished getting ready, so you indicated that you were headed to the breakfast bar, hoping to secure coffees and a muffin for you both. He nods and waves you off, knowing you'll fight off whomever to secure the last blueberry muffin for him.

You quickly grab two coffees and the last two blueberry muffins, before making your way to the table where the rest of the team - save for Rossi and the intern - were already sat.

"Someone had a good night." Only Emily could see through the layers of concealer on your neck.

You shake your head disapprovingly, but the large smile on your face gives you away, as both JJ and Derek join Emily in her teasing. Even Spencer joins in, if only for a moment.

You all quiet down quickly, however, as you see the intern approaching. You'd already resolved to be nothing but polite to her. She hadn't known you and Aaron were together - the two of you were relatively lowkey about the entire thing. Maybe her approach had worked for her before.

That resolve quickly crumbles as she comes to speak to you, however.

"You're not better than me, you know," Natalie spits out as she stands across from you on the other side of the table.

You have to force yourself to stay calm and not react, however your lack of an immediate reaction appears to encourage her.

"You were just like me - trying to sleep with the boss. So you don't get to sit there and think you're somehow better."

You could tell she'd spent the night researching you and Aaron - digging up any and all dirt she could on the two of you and your relationship. You look at her and there is a part of you that wants to be upset and go off on her - really put her in her place. However, you'd once been her age and in a place where you thought that was the only way to move ahead. While that might work sometimes, it had to come with boundaries. She'd crossed them.

You let out a deep breathe, knowing that the rest of them are just itching to take her down a peg but they know you'd prefer to fight your own battles.

"Natalie, you're young and impulsive. What you did yesterday was stupid. No man is worth ruining your reputation over - especially not a man who's a stranger to you."

She's quiet, surprised by what you've said and the lack of swearing and name calling involved.

"Yesterday you propositioned your boss in front of people who will all one day soon be running the Bureau. You will need their help and their support in moving ahead. In their eyes, you are the intern who asked her boss to sleep with her in front of witnesses. What exactly do you think they think of you?"

You see her shrivel at your words, her posture slacking as the truth of what you're saying resonates with her.

"Now," you continue, "I will do my best to forget everything that transpired here. The day you knock on my door, it will be as though it never happened. However, I can't make promises for anyone else."

With that, you've spotted Aaron walking over, so you quickly rise and grab your drinks and muffins to meet him halfway.

Aaron sees you walk over, and takes in the quiet at the team table. The intern was standing incredibly still. He sees the her walk off to grab coffee and the team return to normal. He had a feeling Natalie Scott would have to go. He'd give her a good recommendation to any other team, but he could tell - especially going off of the daggers Prentiss was glaring in the young girl's direction - that this wasn't quite the right fit for her.

You approached him, blueberry muffin successfully in hand, your face glowing. Taking the muffin and coffee from you, he presses a quick kiss to your hairline, warmth blooming in his chest.

#Criminal Minds #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds reader insert #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotchner x you #hotch #hotchner x you #hotchner x y/n #hotch x reader #hotch x you #hotch x y/n #daddy hotch #irreverentseries

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3d-wifey · 3 years

Text

Toxic Headcanons

Pairing: Eijiro Kirishima x Reader, Tenya Iida x Reader, Shoto Todoroki x Reader, Denki Kaminari x Reader, Katsuki Bakugou x Reader

Warnings: Nothing really, just some angst

A/N: It's been a while since I posted anything, sorry y'all.🤚🏾😓

Iida is a total prude — You knew this going into the relationship, in fact, you thought it was kind of cute. However, Iida proved to be exceedingly strict. Being his girlfriend made you exempt from some of his rules, but he never shied away from reprimanding you in front of others.

He would completely disapprove of you wearing anything that might be considered dishonorable. Shorts, dresses that end above the knee, shirts that show cleavage or your abdomen. Honestly, just anything that shows more skin than he considers necessary and he wouldn't hesitate to tell you.

No PDA — You want to hold his hand, he'll rip it away and lecture you about how it might make your fellow classmates uncomfortable. You kiss his cheek, he'll go bright red and shout about keeping such things in the privacy of your dorms. The fact that your boyfriend won't even touch you, even non-sexually, is a different type of embarrassment.

It honestly feels more like he's babysitting you than dating you. He'll find fault in everything you do. From your academic work to your hero studies, whatever you're doing could be done better.

"I understand that since we entered a relationship there are certain displays of affection that you would like to participate in. However, I refuse to partake in anything that might tarnish the Iida name. I would suggest you reevaluate your behavior. I would hate to chastise you in front of our peers again."

He's insecure — Normally, there'd be nothing wrong with having self-doubts or self-esteem issues, but Eijiro takes it to a new level. He hangs around people with pretty powerful quirks. Quirks that he believes are far more flashy and manly than his. Since he hangs out with these people, you hang out with these people. And that introduces another aspect to his insecurities.

If you spend time with literally anyone, he'll go on a rant about how he understands how much better they are than him and he'll accept it if you want to break up with him. Try to reassure him all you want, there's already a seed of doubt planted in his mind and the roots only grow. Trying to prove you love him gets exhausting.

He's Possessive — This builds off of his insecurity. He claims that he just wants to spend time with his girl, and the clinginess was cute in the beginning. But, then he started to ask all these questions. Where were you going? Who were you going with? When were you going? Did you like hanging out with them more than him? Why not just stay and cuddle in his dorm with him, babe? He's all you need anyway, right?

Again, it's kind of cute at the beginning, but once you realize he's the only friend you have left, it's too late.

He always guilt trips you — Whenever you argue (probably about him ending all of your friendships), Kiri never owns up to his part in it. At least, not in the way it counts. Once he sees that it's a serious disagreement, he'll start apologizing and talking down on himself. It'll get so bad that you have to comfort him even if he's in the wrong.

"I'm so sorry, babe. I'm a horrible boyfriend. You have every right to be mad at me, and I totally get it if you want to break up with me. Why would you ever want to stay with someone like me anyways? I have no right to call myself a hero, let alone a man."

Horrible Communication — This really shouldn't be surprising considering what kind of environment he grew up in. If he ever has any type of problem, you'll never know. It's not that he's actively trying to keep things from you, but he'll have no way of knowing that he should be sharing certain things with you. You'll go days without talking to each other; honestly, he could break a bone and you would probably be the last person to know.

He's manipulative — It comes down to the fact that Shoto is more like his father than he cares to admit. He has been bathed in constant attention since he was born, and that kind of undivided attention is something he'll want from you too. He knows he'll get his desired reaction from you if he just ignores you. It constantly makes you think you did something wrong. It has to be your fault, right? You'll try to make it up to him, unknowingly falling right into his trap. He's also not above using his past as an excuse. After hearing how he grew up, how could you stay mad at him?

He's oblivious — He's not stupid, obviously, but he'll fall short on some things you would think were common sense. You're gonna be held at arm's length, for starters. You would think being his girlfriend would make you two pretty close, but it'll feel like he confides in his friends more than you. He doesn't have a good example of what a healthy relationship is supposed to look like, so don't expect him to do anything romantic unless you tell him so. He also doesn't have a filter, meaning he's brutally honest. Don't be surprised if he hurts your feelings in his monotonous voice.

"I don't understand why you're upset. I'm sorry that you feel that way, but I wasn't really taught how to properly handle this situation. Could you forgive me?"

He somehow has a superiority and an inferiority complex — This will cause a huge power imbalance in your relationship. If he thinks your quirk is weaker than his, you'll never hear the end of it. He'll make little joking comments about you being "weaker", but there's a little venom behind them that makes you wonder if he actually thinks of you like that.

Belittling remarks here and there. If you ever get hurt in training or in a fight, he'll blame it on your quirk not being good enough to protect you. God forbid your quirk is stronger than his; he'll deny it to his last breath, but there will be a shadow of jealously that's always drifting over your relationship. He'll constantly challenge you to fights and you better not go easy on him or he'll think you're pitying him. He would kind of see you as more of a rival than a girlfriend and it'll be tiring toeing the line of stroking his ego and not coddling him.

He's pretty set in his ways — It might not seem like it, but Katsuki is very organized. He has a very set routine that he follows and if you want to date him, you'll have to squeeze your way in. He'll expect you to be accommodating towards his schedule and he isn't willing to meet you halfway. Getting him to try anything new is like pulling out teeth.

He's possessive — This obviously goes hand in hand with his arrogance and low self-esteem. He's smothering. Why hang around with other people when you can hang out with him? Why do you need space? You love him, don't you? If you really loved him, you wouldn't want to be apart from him.

He'll never like any of your friends. He's always finding something wrong with them or something about them that irritates him, and he isn't afraid to tell them that to their faces. It'll get to the point that your friends won't invite you to hang out if Bakugou's with you, and he's always with you.

"Tch, the hell are you crying for? You wouldn't be in this situation if you had just listened to me, idiot. What do you want extras like that for anyways? I'm all you need."

He doesn't take anything seriously — He's a total class clown and his sense of humor is one of the things that drew you to him, but this comes with a drawback. He's pretty insensitive, so he'll never think he's in the wrong, in any situation. He won't be taking your feelings into account. He's not the type of guy you would go to if you need a shoulder to cry on or if you want to be comforted, which is disappointing since that's kind of what partners do.

He'll crack jokes about you, which is fine at first, but he doesn't know where to draw the line. If you try to tell him that the jokes are getting out of hand he'll stop saying them in front of you, but you never said anything about saying them when you weren't there. He's also got a thing about taking about other girls with his friends despite dating you. If you tell him it hurts your feelings, he'll say you're just overreacting and it must be that time of the month again. You can throw out the idea of having any important conversations with him.

"Okay, okay. I'll stop. Are you happy now? I swear sometimes you can be such a drama queen, babe. You need to grow some thicker skin."

#boku no hero academia #mha #my hero academia #tenya iida #tenya x reader #iida x reader #eijiro kirishima #kirishima x reader #eijiro x reader #shoto torodoki #todoroki x reader #katsuki bakugou #katsuki x reader #bakugou x reader #shoto x reader #denki kaminari #denki x reader #kaminari x reader

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a-shakespearean-in-paris · 3 years

Text

I was in a toxic friendship

I want to preface this by saying I am so much happier right now and I am no longer friends with this person. Haven’t seen or heard from her in over a year. I also want to be clear this was a friendship I had in real life, not tumblr. I think however this story’s lessons can be applicable across the board to online friendships and even relationships with family members. Please, if you ever feel belittled by your “friends,” and you bring it up to them and they brush it aside and think you’re overreacting, it’s not a friendship.

I was friends with this person, let’s call her Stacy, for about ten years before I realized I no longer wanted to speak to her or be her friend. I met her in the ninth grade and we bonded over Disney World and other things and I could talk to her about anything, including this huge crush I had on a twelfth grade boy. She came over to my house sometimes, though not a lot, and as high school wore on we started going to the mall together, stuff like that. I went to college in a different city and she came to visit me sometimes, and we even worked at the same theme park, though different departments. For all intents and purposes this was my best friend, though Stacey got upset when I also called my cousin my best friend, even though she spoke of her sister as her best friend.

She got a boyfriend when we were both around 21/22 or so, I think we were both juniors in college, though she took a semester off because she hated school and thought it was weird I was a double major. She told me her boyfriend was thirty and she met him at work. I thought the age gap was a little big, but I wasn’t one to judge. Later on I found out he was 36 and she told me she lied because she was worried how I would react. I met him and I thought he was nice, but when she got engaged when we were both around 23, I had only met him that one time for a birthday dinner she had, and my mom and dad told me they thought it was kind of strange. They also said it was weird to them whenever I hung out with Stacey it was only for like an hour, two at most, especially since my cousin and I could spend days and day together at sleepovers, chilling and being ourselves, interpretative dancing, lol. Privately I also found it odd I could talk to Stacey about anything, but when I asked questions about her life and her thoughts she’d barely talk. Her grandma passed away, she loved visiting my grandma because she could have one through me. One day I broke down and admitted my grandmother is a narcissist, and she is different behind closed doors. she berates me, used to call me fat, berated me. Stacey didn’t believe me. I can’t say when she started not being such a good presence in my life, but these were some seeds, and it got worse--slow at once and then all at once as they say.

Anyway, I was a bridesmaid of hers and her sister was the maid of honor--a mutual friend was another bridesmaid and there was one more (super sweet girl and I don’t even think Stacy talks with her much anymore either LMAO) and at this point in my life I was really into my first fanfic IWD. I was consumed with it, to put it bluntly. This is another story entirely but I spent so much of my college career as an English major writing for academia, and when I was finally writing something for me, I bloomed. I talked to her about it and she kind of laughed about this Cullen person but she liked to read fanfic herself so was whatever about me doing it. I shared with her my first piece of commissioned art and she laughed at Lydia thinking Lydia was just me, and I told her, no, she wasn’t, she’s based off of several old hollywood ladies and I actually made her avatar in game, but she wouldn’t believe it. I actually ended up saying “would you think this if I were white and she were white as well” and she laughed and didn’t understand. Needless to say the whole incident rubbed me the wrong way. I ignored it. Her wedding happened, her sister made a good speech, then when all the groomsmen did a speech for the groom the other Bridesmaids and I thought we had to do something, so we got up there and made an impromptu speech. I called her my sister and I told her I loved her. I didn’t know it then, but I didn’t believe her when she said “love you too.”

I wanted to go back to school, and I ended up in a Masters program after the wedding. My summer semester, my first, went well, starting in June and ending in July. I finished IWD and went to another fic, Stacey making fun of Sophie, my OC for that fic too, because I just straight up made her part Hawaiian like I am. When I told her I had little representation growing up other than like Lilo and Stitch and now Moana, (which I don’t like TBH but another story lol.) she asked me what the big deal was about that. Why did it matter that no main character ever looked as I looked? I couldn’t explain to her how much writing a character who was like me in a fanfic mattered. We planned on going to Disney World, me, her, her sister, and the other bridesmaid, but don’t post anything on facebook because she didn’t want to invite the other other bridesmaid. I wanted to go to a nightclub with her for my birthday but she didn’t want to go because her sister couldn’t enter, so after my whole family, plus her and her husband ate at my favorite restaurant, she went home even after I begged her to come with my and my cousin. She said it was stupid. Also, her husband was a huge ass to wait staff. Alarm bells went off for all of us.

But I was looking forward to Disney in December that year. (2018) I didn’t have a job at the time but was actively looking. Well, I got a job after interview after interview at restaurants that wouldn’t hire me, my dream job researching Shakespeare. It fell through. (I was promised to actively help the professor research, it fell through.) She paid for the trip without me knowing and I had to pay her back 800 dollars on writing commissions which I severely underpriced. because I was worried no one would pay otherwise. School wasn’t going well. Put it simply I felt really dumb and stupid and like I didn’t belong, (we were reading Ulysses!!!) which I later learned was a common sentiment with my classmates who began the same time as I. I will admit my relationship with academia is rocky at the moment, but I genuinely do love to write, love to research, love to make discoveries about new texts. Stacey saw how stressed I was and sad and got angry I was so sad, and asked why was I in school anyway Am I going to be on my deathbed and wished I studied harder? I didn’t have the energy to tell her it wasn’t about “studying harder,” it was that I loved writing and reading and wanted to be a part of academia. Learning makes me happy, expanding my mind. She belittled me anyway, thinking getting a Masters was dumb and I wouldn’t get a good job.

At Disney World I was so happy. I hadn’t been there since I was a child. She made fun of me for wanting to meet Ariel, for wanting to ride Soaring and being afraid to check grades when a classmate said they were up. I got so stressed I cried at the Japan pavilion at Epcot and stress ate sauerbraten at the Germany pavilion (Amazing by the way, I love German food.) She basically dictated the entire trip--we went to Universal for Harry Potter World at her request and refused to ride the spider man ride with me (it was fucking fun too-girl missed out.) All she wanted to do was stand around in Harry Potter world all day, (LOL now right?) I wasn’t that big of a Potter fan anymore, even at that point, and she told me I was going to stay there anyway and like it. She dictated the entire trip and when I questioned her about it she said I wasn’t listening to to her--we were following the agenda. Our last day there we went to a “Hawaiian” restaurant and made a comment about my “Hawaiian privileges.” I just didn’t have the heart to tell her that the crap we ate didn’t hold a candle to real Hawaiian luau food.

When we got back I was mentally drained and melancholic because I wondered why Stacey was so cruel to me. She always had a biting wit, but before it seemed playful. Now it was cruel, mocking. She made me feel so incredibly stupid. At this point my cousin got engaged and I cried because I wanted so badly to be in love with someone and get married. I was angry and I lashed out at people I shouldn’t have. I was later diagnosed as depressed. I felt like my life was at a standstill and matters with Stacey didn’t help. I also had a huge writing crisis--I told Stacey something I will always remember and always regret because she doesn’t deserve to know: I write the romances I want because no man wants me. At this point, Stacy turned me into her project. She didn’t like how sad I was at Disney World, it put a bummer on her trip, and when I told her she seemed off she brushed it off. Her plan was to get me on dating apps and basically settle for anyone, even though I had used apps before and don’t like them, but when I got back on Bumble she basically patronized me and told me she was proud of me and “small steps.” On bumble, I wanted to vomit. (for the record, I am not against dating apps, I know success stories, but at that time I was not emotionally ready to date.) Also, she would teach me to drive so I could go on dates, but only in my Dad’s truck.

I wish I could say I broke it off, that I told her not to talk to me again, but Stacey stopped talking to me first. However. the day she stopped was when I told her she was wrong and I wouldn’t listen to this anymore. What happened? I mentioned I was demisexual. She said it wasn’t real. I said it was real to me--I don’t experience sexual attraction unless I have bonded with someone. Sure there are people I like to look at, but it’s not a sexual attraction. She asked about my crush on Tom Hiddleston, Cullen, “that robot guy” and was like yeah you’re sure demi, and lol it’s not real. It wasn’t just her words, it was the mocking indifference.

I went off. I told her she didn’t have the right to tell me what was in my brain or how I felt. I knew who I was and who I am. I should have also told her I wasn’t her project, but I left her that day and it was the last time I saw her.

I talked to my dad that night and mentioned it to him, being demi, and you know what he told me? I think I’m the same way. I think I almost cried.

I tried to talk to her again but she didn’t want to see me. She had “personal issues and was busy” I pissed her off. Good, I say now. But after this happened in March of 2019 I thought I had no friends. She was my only friend, and I lost another mutual friend (one we went to Disney with) because she knew Stacey longer than she knew me. But you know what happened in April? My cousin asked me to be her maid of honor and I fucking wept, because there was my best friend--my sister all along. Just because she lives in another city and we are growing up and it took me longer to figure out my career than her doesn’t change the fact that we have a bond that can’t be broken. My cousin is one of my favorite people and if you know her you love her--it is impossible not to. And when I told her about my fanfic and about being demi she wanted to know, wanted to listen. School got better too--I started chatting in class more and come to find out, one of my classmates also broke up with a toxic friend. God I love her and I miss her--wish I could see her. (thanks COVID)

There was more, but this was a lot, and I spent more time writing this than I thought I would. I wanted to write it because seeing a few posts float around made me remember, and I want ya’ll to know, leaving a friendship is scary. Sometimes it can be worse than leaving a lover. But it is a brave thing to do. Part of me that knew I should have left at the first racist comment (oh yeah, she called me a pineapple one day before the Disney trip, did I mention it’s a slur for Hawaiian people? If my grandma were there she would have clobbed her.) but I stayed because I didn’t think I had any other friends. Well, I did and I do, and I know now friends lift each other up, not belittle or talk behind your back. They listen to me when I talk about how important my writing and my characters are to me.

Sometimes I still miss her--but mostly the high school her that I knew before she met her husband. I don’t know if he changed her or this was her all along, perhaps both. I got fired from a job in November 2019 (which now I’d like to thank them because I got a better and more fulfilling job with a boss that respects me.) and when I cried outside the place, humiliated, I wanted to call her and vent like I used to. I didn’t. Now I don’t want to call her anymore or talk to her. I’d rather spend time with people who care, people who don’t kick me when I’m down. Since then I am so much stronger, in so many ways. The worst times in my life yielded the greatest lessons I have ever learned.

If you made it this far, thank you. I did tear up a little writing this, but please know: it can be hard to walk a new path, but it is brave. You are brave. You don’t deserve to be belittled *hugs*

#personal #toxic friend #ok to reblog #tw: depression #tw: racism #yep she was that bad and I was blind for a long time

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