#im going to be spending the weekend with the person who assaulted me | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

smutbymia · 4 years

Note

classmate jeno x reader with enemies to lovers please 🥺

There were a million and one reasons why you couldn’t stand Jeno:

1. he’s an asshole

2. he’s the student body president for the second year in a row (you lost twice)

3. he’s a popular rich kid

4. he’s smart, athletic, AND good looking (I mean seriously... who is that lucky?)

Just to list a few.

You went to school together all your lives and it somehow felt like each year he got more and more irritating. This year is your last year and you promised yourself you wouldn’t let whatever ridiculous rivalry you and Jeno had ruin it. And so far you had done a good job of keeping that promise until this very moment.

School had ended for the day, marking the completion of the first week of your senior year. You were reaching for a pen that dangled from a string next to a sign up sheet when you felt the warm skin of another hand brush against yours. You raised your head planning to mutter a quick apology to the person until you locked eyes with that bastard Jeno. The soft expression on your face immediately went icy as did his.

“What do you think you’re doing?” you spat at him, the pen lingering in your hand. Jeno plucked it from between your fingers and wrote his name on the sign up sheet. Your eyes went wide and he dropped the pen, letting it hang from its string once more before turning to you and stepping forward.

“What does it look like I’m doing?” he towered over you with his height.

You groaned, stomping your feet before whining “You’re already president, why do you have to join yearbook too?”

Jeno rolled his eyes, “Because I need more clubs for my college application.”

Your eyes shot daggers into his. You picked up the dangling pen and scribbled your name under his on the list before turning on your heels and walking into the open classroom next to you. You emerged from the room an hour later, expressionless. You pinched yourself, hoping that today was just an awful nightmare. Person after person left the room, walking past you until the hall went quiet with the exception of a few voices that lingered further down the school hall as people slowly made their way out.

Things had gotten just slightly worse. When choosing the president for the Yearbook club, you and Jeno ended up in a deadlocked vote -- thus encouraging Mr. Park, the faculty member in charge to come up with the brilliant idea of electing you both to share the presidency. As if it wasn’t bad enough that you had to be in the same club. Now the two of you would be spending basically the entire year together working on such an important project.

“Im not going to let him ruin me, I’m not going to let him ruin me, I’m not going to let him ruin me,” you repeated to yourself quietly as you slowly walked towards the nearest exit, in what felt like a daze.

“That is quite the mantra,” teased Jeno. He had left the classroom last after talking with Mr. Park and caught up to you at some point. You jumped at the sound of his voice.

“What do you want now?” you groaned.

Jeno stepped in front of you blocking your path.

“Does it look like I want to be president with you? I’m being mature about it because it’s what everyone else wanted so you should stop acting like such a brat,” he spat.

“You’re calling ME a brat? How ironic,” you scoffed, “You’re already in a ton of different clubs and hold multiple presidencies. What else could you possibly need for your college application? You could even buy your way in if you wanted to.”

Jeno froze at your final sentence. You continued the assault of words. “You know what your problem is? You can’t stand to lose,” you said, standing toe to toe with him. Jeno chuckled under his breath before bending slightly so that his face was hovering over your face.

“You know what your problem is, princess? You’re okay with losing unless it’s to me,” he began, “You may still be royalty but that doesn’t mean you are anywhere near as powerful as I am,” he said as he straightened himself back up, walking backwards as he spoke. He tapped on one of the series of pins fastened to his school uniform jacket and you dropped your gaze to see what he was gesturing to -- it was a golden line drawing of a king’s crown. You locked eyes one last time before he turned around and stormed out of the school, leaving you standing alone in the empty corridor, blood rushing through your body with your fists balled up at your sides.

That night you returned home, diving right into your study routine and getting an early start on some assignments to distract yourself from the awful day you were having. You had just gotten comfortable in bed when your phone buzzed with new notifications. You leaned over to squint at the bright screen.

JENO: It’s Jeno

JENO: School tomorrow. 5:30pm.

You groaned before reaching for the device to type out a reply.

Y/N: How did you get my number?

JENO: I’m the student body president. I can do anything I want.

JENO: Just be there we have work to do.

You rolled your eyes at his response before locking your phone and drifting off to bed.

The next day flew by the way Saturday’s typically did. You had breakfast with your family before heading out for a jog and coming home to do some workouts on youtube in your bedroom before taking some time to study and do some yearbook club work. When that evening finally rolled around you threw on some black biker shorts and a comfy oversized black graphic tee with some rock bands logo printed on the front before putting your hair up into a bun.

Your school uniform was very preppy looking and you had to keep up appearances so every other part of your appearance had to be up to the same standard everyday. This resulted in you dressing quite “girly” so you enjoyed being able to dress down on the weekends when you weren’t out socializing.

Once you were done getting ready you made your way over to the school. According to Jeno, he had both keys and permission for the both of you to get some work done despite it being a Saturday. A security guard was parked outside by the gates when you arrived and you held up your yearbook club pass before he gave you a quick nod then immediately returned to watching some sports game on his phone screen and eating a sandwich.

When you finally entered the school and got to the Yearbook/Media club lounge, you found Jeno leaning back in a computer chair as he clicked away at the mouse with his eyes glued to the monitor. He didn’t hear you when you entered because of the headphones he had covering his ears. He was dressed down too. He sported grey sweatpants, and a white t-shirt and his black hair looked slightly damp as the strands clumped together slightly and rested against his forehead. He nodded his head to music, and tapped his free fingers against the desk he was seated at.

When you stepped further into the room he spun in his chair to face you. Jeno’s eyes scanned the entirety of your body before he slipped the headphones down to his neck and spoke.

“I almost didn’t recognize you without your preppy headband, all that makeup, and those stupid earrings you always wear,” he muttered.

Okay, low blow. The downside to wearing school uniforms is that you lose a lot of your individuality, and the school rules limit what you can and cannot wear. In fact, students had to fight for the right to accessorize until the ban was lifted. You personally enjoyed wearing tons of different earrings from hoops, to waterfalls and of course you felt a nice headband would draw together your academia look. Both were your signatures and makeup was just a given at such a fancy school.

“I’d insult you back but honestly you look a lot less annoying when you’re not wearing that preppy uniform jacket filled with pins and patches,” you snapped back.

“Whatever, I never said it was meant to be an insult,” he mumbled before gesturing for you to come look at his computer screen.

“I’ve been working on the first draft for the welcome week pages. I think we should follow this layout and theme for the rest of the yearbook. I’m submitting it to Mr. Park,” said Jeno.

You looked over the screen as Jeno waited for your feedback. “I like my version better,” you said after a few minutes.

“Your version? Let’s see it then,” he urged. You took a USB keychain that hung with the rest of your keys out of your bag and connected it to the computer before leaning over Jeno and pulling up the file. He shifted his chair backwards to give you room, and sat back as he admired you from behind. It wasn’t until you spoke to him again that you realized what he was doing.

“How does it look?” you asked as the document loaded onto the screen.

“Real good...” he said as his voice dropped an octave. You turned your head to face him, catching him with his bottom lip trapped between his teeth and his eyes still set on your backside before he drew them up to meet your gaze and flashing you a cheeky smile that turned his eyes into crescent moons.

“Stop being a perv and come look,” you said sternly as you changed your position, lowering yourself to your knees by the monitor. Jeno scooted his chair forward again before looking up at your work. Within seconds he had a series of critical comments spilling from his mouth thus triggering a heated argument between the two of you.

“You know what? I’m tired of going back and forth with you. Let’s just send both to Mr. Park and see which one he likes best,” he challenged. You were both on your feet now and standing toe to toe like you did yesterday during your face off.

“Fine,” you accepted. Jeno sent the files off and the two of you drifted off into other work. You were both working in the dark room, developing some film, when you heard the faint sound of an email notification ring out from the monitor in the room next door. You and Jeno immediately looked at each other before frantically wrapping up your work and rushing to the computer.

The two of you were huddled closely by the screen when Jeno clicked on the email to reveal its contents. You both silently read the screen before you were overcome with disappointment

Mr. Park: Hey President’s. Both look great and would work perfectly with this years Yearbook but if you want my personal opinion, I think I’m leaning more towards Jeno’s! Great work so far and kudos for being so productive on a Saturday! Reach out if you need anything.

You groaned as you stood back up. Jeno chuckled next to you.

“Congratulations, you win again,” you snapped at him. He was so caught off guard by your tone that his smile fell from his face immediately and was quickly replaced by a smug expression.

“Is that all that matters to you?” he asked raising his voice, “winning?”

You were toe to toe for the third time now and it was really starting to get on your nerves because Jeno was built and tall and something about him looking down on you made this stupid position even more annoying for you.

“One thing! You couldn’t just let me have this one thing!” you yelled back.

“Oh... my... GOD. You are unbearable!” Jeno groaned as he ran his fingers through his hair in frustration.

“You want to know why I couldn’t let you have this one thing?” he started, leaning down closer to your face. He was inches from you now and his breath danced across your lips when he spoke.

“Because... you’re such a fucking brat. Every time you whine and complain all I can think about is filling up this pretty mouth so I don’t have to hear your voice anymore,” he said through gritted teeth, reaching his hand up to your chin.

“And your face... the look on your face every time i beat you at something or take something away from you... the way your eyes get big and teary, and the way you pout your lips like you’re doing right now” he continued, running his index finger across your bottom lip.

“Nothing turns me on more than taming you like this,” he whispered. Your body shivered under his touch. You were fuming on the inside at his words. They hurt. Yet you were also feeling things you had never felt before. Your eyes scanned Jeno’s face, along his lips and eyes and his jawline. Your nipples hardened underneath the cotton material of your shirt. Jeno noticed. You fought back tears of frustration as one slipped down your cheek, cursing yourself for being so turned on at a moment like this.

“Don’t cry, baby girl,” Jeno muttered as he took his free hand to wipe away at the tear as his other hand cradled your cheek. Your hands were balled into fists at your sides and you stood frozen in your spot.

“You’ve been so worried about me ruining you, but maybe that’s exactly what you need to get rid of that attitude...hmm?” he murmured.

“I-I hate you,” you sputtered out, sounding more whiney than angry. Jeno let out a breath of air as the corner of his mouth turned up into a brief smile. He stepped closer to you and you stepped back until you were trapped against a table.

“Yeah, whatever,” he mumbled as he hovered his lips dangerously close to yours, eyes searching yours for any sign of resistance. You broke eye contact with him as your gaze settled on his lips. You subconsciously licked your own as you blinked away the remainder of the dampness in your eyes.

You didn’t notice the way you gravitated towards his lips like a magnet until he leaned away from you slightly and your lips chased after his -- not letting the distance grow too much. Your eyes were still glued to his lips which had formed into a smug grin when you noticed how you had chased after his lips like a needy girl just as you felt the first wave of heat rush to your face.

“Just as I thought...” he muttered as one of his hands dropped to your waist and you felt him tighten his grip ever so slightly. Jeno ran his hand down the side of your body, trailing his fingers along your thighs before running his hands back up again -- this time gripping the bare skin of your waist underneath your graphic tee.

You sucked in air when his warm hands came in contact with your skin. His eyes were glued to your face and his expression showed a slight hint of darkness. Jeno gripped your waist with both hands firmly before suddenly lifting you off the floor to sit on the edge of the table you had been trapped against.

You let out a gasp as your butt landed on the cool surface, leaving you seated with Jeno standing between your legs. He bridged the gap between you by stepping closer and pulling you by your hips -- until every part of you was pressed against him. Your hands flew up to his chest to stop you from literally crashing into his chiseled torso.

You accidentally let out a breathy moan when your crotches met -- feeling Jeno pressed against your center, leaving only the thin material of your biker shorts and your undies between your bodies. Jeno bit his bottom lip in response and rolled his lips once more, making you whimper and sending your hands sliding from his chest down to his waist. You hesitated but your hand placement was a dead giveaway that you wanted more friction. Jeno pulled at your hips one more time as he met your center with another stroke. You felt wetness begin to pool between your legs and tightened your grip on his waist. This time it was you who pulled him forward but he froze just before your bodies could properly connect again as you desperately tried to rut yourself against him.

“Look at me,” he ordered. Your gaze immediately locked with his, eyes wide and lips pouted, a bit frustrated that he had stopped moving.

“Good girl... Didn’t think you’d listen to me so well the first time,” he said, rewarding you with another roll of his hips. You groaned at the contact.

“F-first time?” you question, rolling your hips to meet his as his breathing became more unstable.

“It’s gonna be a long year, baby,” he started, “We have to work together, so it’s my responsibility to calm you down when you get all bratty.”

There was something really sexy about the way you both managed to continuously grind against each other in pure ecstasy while having a full blown conversation, speaking between moans and grunts.

“I’m n-not a brat, you’re just an asshole,” you snapped as you crossed your legs at your ankles, pulling him against you even harder.

Jeno cursed under his breath at the friction as his hands reached down to grip at your ass before mumbling, “only person who thinks i’m an asshole is you,” he taunted, “you on the other hand are widely known for acting like a complete...”

You interrupted him with another roll of your hips, as a groan slipped from his lips. “Choose your next words carefully, Jeno,” you warned.

he chuckled before finishing his almost forgotten sentence, “princess... that’s what you’re known for. For acting like such a fucking princess,” he groaned.

Jeno wasn’t entirely wrong. You did strive for excellence when it came to your common interests in academics and extracurriculars. In fact, a pet peeve of yours was the fact that you and Jeno were always compared to each other, with most of the school being shocked that two people who were so alike seemed to always be at war with each other. In everyone else's eyes you were both one in the same.

Though you were respected, you weren’t delusional. There were definitely people who weren’t fond of you, but you had chalked it up to mere jealousy that was inevitable for a person who excelled as much as you did to experience. Jeno must have noticed your mind wandering because he lifted your chin slightly to direct your attention back to him muttering a soft “hey...” as he snaked his free hand up your shirt, hands brushing against your bare breast.

You moaned when you felt his fingers tease your sensitive nipple. “Whats wrong with being a princess? People only call me that because they’re jealous,” you questioned. You had definitely begun to soak through your shorts, as you watched a faint wet patch begin to show on Jeno’s joggers. You gripped at the collar of his shirt as he dropped his head down to your neck, leaving a trail of kisses all over the delicate skin.

“F-fuck,” you groaned at the contact, hips jerking.

“Exactly,” jeno said, lifting his head to lock his eyes with you again. “They’re jealous of how powerful you are... but that’s exactly what turns me on,” he confessed.

He ran his hands along your cheek, leaning in to a whisper. “Do you know how hard it makes me when I think about turning the most powerful girl in school into a powerless mess?” Jeno tugged at one of your nipples as he finally drew your mouth into his for a kiss. You whimpered into his mouth, overcome with pleasure.

Jeno deepened the kiss and for once you just allowed him to take control. As much as you hated him, you couldn’t deny that his energy was intoxicating and yes, maybe you were a little bit jealous of him for the same reasons as others were jealous of you.

How could you not be attracted to someone who was as driven and talented and equally, if not even more powerful than you were in that regard. As much as you butt heads there was no doubt that you were very much a good fit for each other-- if all the fighting and competition were set aside, that is. But this didn’t matter right now. All that mattered was the way he was making you feel. It was as if though all those years of tension had finally bubbled over.

Jeno’s tongue swirled against yours sloppily, just the way you liked. Even your bodies seemed to be on the same page. He pulled away from you after a few minutes of making out -- leaving a trail of spit hanging from your lips to his as he lifted you off the table and carried you over to one of the couches in the lounge area of the room.

The sun had already begun to set ages ago, and only the faint hint of the computer screens you had been working on were illuminating the room. Jeno sat on the couch with you straddling his lap as he pulled his shirt over his head. You did the same and soon enough you were both left topless. Jeno wasted no time drawing you towards him and trapping a nipple between his lips as he palmed your other breast. You arched your back into him letting his name spill from your mouth.

He kissed his way back up your chest as he pulled you in for a kiss.

“Mmm.. Need all of this gone,” he said as he pulled at your shorts. You got up from his lap, and he immediately began to peel off the remainder of your clothing, dragging the material down the length of your body.

His breath hitched as he stripped you of your shorts to reveal your white cotton thong. He brushed his fingers softly against the material before mumbling to himself, “cute...”

His fingers ran against your slit, feeling the damp material under his touch and making you grow weak in the legs.

“You’re so wet for me already... Such a good girl,” he said. Hearing words of praise fall from his lips like that made you feel so soft. For some reason, compliments hit different when they came from him. Your eyes drifted to the growing bulge in Jeno’s joggers.

Your mouth fell open with the sudden desire to be filled with as much of him as you could fit as you slowly fell to your knees. Jeno raised his eyebrows while he watched you intently. You tapped your fingers against his knee, “off, please” you said as you pulled at the strings in the waistband of his bottoms.

“Fuck, do you know how good you look on your knees for me?” he said as he lifted his hips to get rid of the rest of his clothing. Your eyes went wide when he finally settled back into his seat and began stroking his length while analyzing your expression.

For once you couldn’t blame him for the arrogant expression on his face. He had every right to be proud of what he was packing.

“Ugh, is every part of you perfect?” you complained as you scooted closer to him. You dragged your fingernails along his thighs as he drew his bottom lip between his teeth again. Your fingers danced dangerously close to his member as he slowed the movement of his hand before letting go of himself.

You wrapped your hand around him, shocked at how much bigger he looked between your fingers. He throbbed and raised his hips slightly, thrusting up into your first. “Needy...” you teased, looking up at him as you giggled softly.

“Y/n” he whimpered, a bit embarrassed at the sounds leaving his mouth now that you had momentarily gained the upper-hand. Jeno watched as you pressed your tongue to the slit of his cock before popping the head right into your mouth and sinking down around his length in one go, bottoming out.

Your lips were wrapped around the very base of his cock when you moaned around him, making your entire mouth vibrate.

“Holy shit,” he moaned loudly as he reached out a hand to draw circles on your cheeks while you worked at his length. You lifted your mouth all the way back, as his hips jerked forward again, fucking into your mouth as another whimper fell from his mouth. Your eyes were locked in his and you couldn’t believe how different he looked. His hard expression had gone soft. You had definitely managed to strip him momentarily of his power.

“So naughty - where’d you learn - to use your mouth like this- huh, princess?” he asked between thrusts. Your eyes watered but you continued to let him use your mouth as you watched him grow more desperate.

You removed him from your mouth with a pop as you pumped at his length fast. Jeno cursed under his breath before letting his head fall back on the couch for a moment.

“Gonna c-cum,” he warned.

“Look at me,” you ordered and Jeno obeyed.

You locked eyes as you delivered the final pumps, and waited with your mouth open and your tongue out as you felt him throb underneath your grip before spurts of his warmth shot up -- spilling onto your tongue and dripping from your lips down your chin. The remainder of his cum had spilled over onto your fingers, and you released him to pop them into your mouth to clean them off.

You were aimlessly licking and sucking at your fingers, caught up in your own world when you noticed Jeno staring at you, chest rising and falling with a surprised expression on his face.

“Hmm?” you hummed as you titled your head, wondering if everything was okay. Jeno, who had just cum harder than he ever had in his life was in pure disbelief at how you sat so calmly and managed to look so sweet and innocent with his cum dripping down your chin as you suckled at your own fingers. The sight alone made him start to grow hard almost instantly.

After a few seconds he snapped out of it, leaning forward and cupping your cheek in his hand like he had been all night.

“D-don’t think I’m letting you win that easily,” he muttered. He motioned for you to get off your knees, and he drew you in for a kiss as he repositioned you both on the couch so he would be on top of you. You seemed to have sparked the competitive fire within him.

Jeno hadn’t expected you to switch on him like that and he was determined to follow through on his promise of ruining you.

He trailed kisses down your body, skipping your pelvic region to drop kisses along your thighs as he peeled off your panties.

“I’m sorry but I won’t be going easy on you... not after what you just did,” he warned as he pushed apart your thighs. You could feel the warmth of his breath against your center and it drove you insane.

Jeno carried out the first lick along the length of your slit and it was enough to have you moaning and immediately roping your hands in his hair. You had been turned on for so long that even the slightest touch felt like heaven.

He flicked his tongue against your entrance, muttering to himself about how great you taste, teasing you as your clit yearned for attention. He worked at your flesh, dipping his tongue in between the folds of your center before prodding at your hole and slipping his tongue inside. You tried to move your hips against his mouth but he firmly held you in place.

“Jeno, p-please,” you pleaded. He smiled against your skin as he continued to dip his tongue into your hole, driving you closer to the edge but still not quite getting you there.

“Whats wrong, princess?” he taunted before running his tongue up the length of your slit, once again avoiding your clit. You whimpered, reaching your hand down to feel yourself before he roped his fingers in yours to stop you. He lightly flicked his tongue against your clit, just enough to send electricity running through your body but still not enough to please you entirely.

“I want to hear you beg for it,” he said as he blew air softly against your center, the sensitivity was overwhelming. He planted a soft kiss directly on top of your clit that would have melted your heart a bit if you weren’t so violently horny at this point. So instead, your hips jerked against the plushy feeling of his pursed lips. Jeno chuckled at your body’s reaction, before repeating the action -- drawing the same result.

After the third peck landed on your clit, and the third jerk of your hips sent you into a frenzy, you simply couldn’t resit any longer.

Tears pooled at the corner of your eyes, and words spilled endlessly from your mouth. “Please, Jeno.. fuck, please let me cum. I’m d-desperate,” you confessed as your hips raised off of the couch, and he pulled away teasingly watching you squirm beneath him.

“How would you like to cum, baby?” he asked.

“I need to feel you inside of me,” you pleaded before adding a soft “please” to the end of your sentence.

You watched Jeno position himself at your entrance before stopping.

“i’m on the pill, we don’t need --,” you assured him, reading his expression.

He groaned straight away, interrupting you before you could finish as his mind drifted to places he was too ashamed to admit. He ran his head along your slit, making you twitch before he entered you with a quick snap of his hips, bottoming out immediately and forcing a scream from your lips.

You weren’t sure what to expect from Jeno but it definitely wasn't this. He angled himself perfectly, propping you up so he was hitting all the right places as he pounded into you relentlessly. Within a single minute you were both racing towards your orgasms.

“I’m close,” he murmured as he planted a kiss to your lips.

“Me too,” you answered, “one last thing...” you said as he continued to thrust into you at a delicious pace.

“Hmm.. what is it, baby?” he asked. You locked eyes with him, feeling quite shy at your next words.

“F-fill me up, please. I want you to cum inside of me, really really badly,” you whimpered and with a final groan at your unexpected demand, you felt Jeno’s warmth spill all over your insides, sending you right over the edge and leaving your insides contracting against him. The two of you remained exactly how you were for awhile.

Jeno was the first to move after catching his breath. He slowly slipped out of you with a breathy moan before lowering himself towards your center and softly licking at your folds even though they were covered in his own cum.

“Shit, i’m sorry... I barely made it to the end of your sentence before letting go,” he chuckled as he lapped at your skin.

“JENO” you shrieked as an unexpected orgasm rushed through you again when he flattened his tongue against your entire slit and you found yourself moving against his mouth in seek of more pleasure. You pushed his head away as you clenched your legs together feeling a mixture of both pleasure and agony run through your body.

“Sorry, sorry, sorry... last one, i promise” he laughed as he moved to your face to plant soft kisses on your cheeks and a peck on your lips. It took you a while to come back from your high.

it was a bit late when you guys had finally cleaned up and locked the school back up. Jeno had driven you home in his new Volvo which he tried to convince you was a totally normal back to school gift, and had texted you for the remainder of the night about things like yearbook, and homework. It almost seemed as though what had happened was merely a dream.

It wasn't until you were back at school on Monday that you realized that going back to normal was going to be impossible. You and Jeno still bickered over Yearbook decisions and didn’t hesitate to challenge each other during class debates but things had changed. Every annoying exchange you had simply fuelled your desire more.

You’d get into intense match ups only to find yourselves coming up with excuses about Yearbook club to sneak out of class for quickies in Jeno’s car. He even had his way with you more times than you could count across his desk in the office he was awarded after becoming student body president. At first it was fun -- your adrenaline would pump at the thought of sneaking around so much but then things slowly started to shift again.

Soon, you would spend afternoons at his freaking massive mansion of a family home where you guys would go over yearbook work. When you didn’t have yearbook work to do, he began inviting you over for study sessions, and to do homework -- all of which would end in amazing sex. Soon those invites extended to regular hangouts for no particular reason but to enjoy each others company and you found yourself drifting away from casual hookups to something that felt heavier -- more serious.

The final nail in the coffin was when Jeno let your little secret slip after getting so worked up in a class discussion. You had been discussing the symbolism of a film you had just watched for an english class when you began to clash.

“Baby, that makes no sense,” he mumbled after you had shared your opinion. He was doodling aimlessly on his notebook. The entire class went wide eyed, and a few gasps were let out.

“Actually, it makes perfect s--” you began before freezing. You had just noticed his mistake, and everyone had noticed yours which was how the pet name didn’t seem to phase you at all. Luckily Mr. Park quickly moved on to another topic as you both sat cursing yourselves silently.

After the final bell rang for the day, you locked eyes with Jeno.

“Idiot,” you mouthed. He offered you a sheepish grin in return as he approached your desk.

“I’m sorry, it slipped,” he began, “but now that every knows..” Jeno, slipped his arm around you as you entered the hallway. Most students minded their business, which you were grateful for while others stared and whispered.

“I have a student body meeting for the next hour... you have debate team right?,” he said as you approached an intersecting series of hallways. You nodded.

“I’ll meet you outside then, and we can go to mine to go over the photographer schedules for this months events,” Jeno said.

“Sounds good,” you responded before turning on your heels to head in the opposite direction. Jeno’s grip on your wrist had him tugging you back towards him.

He stood above you with an annoyed expression on his face, pouting. He pulled your face close to his, mumbling about you being heartless before he planted a lingering kiss on your lips, of course drawing the attention of onlookers. Your cheeks were on fire when he pulled back, leaving you flustered and a bit embarrassed as he shot you a final wink before checking his watch and rushing off to his meeting. You turned around to head to debate club, wondering how exactly your biggest enemy had turned into the sweetest, most caring lover you could have ever asked for.

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winterscaptain · 3 years

Text

tell.

Aaron Hotchner x Gender Neutral Reader

a/n: i cannot tell yall how long i have been working on this one, so i'll save it. thanks to @ssaic-jareau for hanging in there with me as i pulled late nights to make this happen over the weekend!! i love you!! i know it's broad daylight for you while im being irresponsible, but i appreciate it nevertheless. let me know what you think, my lovelies! i cherish your thoughts!

words: 7.4k warnings: language, discussion of sex, canon-typical case events

summary: “we are not people who touch each other carelessly; every point of contact between us feels important, a rush of energy and relief.” veronica roth, allegiant. au!may 2012

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It’s always tough to spend time away from home when you aren’t on a case, but a conference kept you from your boys the last couple of days, on Strauss’s request. Aaron was none too happy about it, but as the junior-most agent in the unit (even with five years under your belt), the shitty seminars and professional development events fell on your shoulders.

Even though you landed early in the morning, flying coach all the way back from California, there was a whole day with Jack waiting for you and Aaron upon your return. A rare Saturday - no case, no paperwork, just family.

You knock on the door with a knuckle, unable to reach your keys around your bags and breakfast.

Aaron opens the door with a “Hey!” coated in laughter, kissing your cheek. He’s still in his pajamas.

You squint at him. “Am I early?”

He snorts. “Never. We’re running late.” He takes the takeout bags and coffee from your hands. “Thank you for breakfast.”

“Of course. I wanted -”

Jack runs across the apartment and slams into you full force. “You’re home!”

You curl around him, your hands on his head and shoulder as he cuddles into you. “I am! I missed you.”

“I missed you, too.”

His voice is muffled by your shirt and it makes you smile. You glance at Aaron over Jack’s head to find a smile.

“Come look at our fort!” Jack, wearing a blanket cape, takes you by the hand and brings you into the dining room, where the dining room table has been turned into a massive fort fit for a king.

Or, rather, two kings.

“Oh my goodness, Jack. This is incredible, little bug. Your architectural prowess knows no bounds.” You look up at Aaron from your place on the floor. “Where’s your cape?”

His deadpan, as usual, never fails to make you laugh. “Uh, I’m wearing it.”

Jack continues to drag you all the way under the table until you’re laying on your bellies in the little slap-dash shelter.

Aaron flops down on the floor on the other side of Jack. “We slept in here all night.”

“Really? That sounds like so much fun.”

What you mean is, What, with your bad back?

“Mmhmm,” he replies, only to really say -

Yep. I feel like shit.

“Can we sleep in here again tonight, Dad?” Jack asks, turning to Aaron. “All together?”

You exchange a glance with Aaron, who laughs.

So much for grown-up plans...

+++

You’re both scrambling to get ready for the bike ride across the mall and day at the Smithsonian when the phone call comes in.

“Hotchner,” Aaron says, still at the counter, tucking his phone under his chin as he finishes packing the rest of the picnic basket.

He freezes, hastily bagging some carrots and putting them in the basket before holding the phone in his hand and leaning heavily against the counter. “You’re kidding.”

That’s not a good tone.

Jack looks up at you, and you rest your hands on his chest over his shoulders, backing him into you as you watch Aaron with your lip between your teeth.

“Did they raise the terror alert?”

Shit.

“Okay. That’s for the best. Um…” He checks his watch. “I’ll get down there now. Yeah….Do you need the rest -”

With a huff, he meets your eyes and nods.

You let out a sigh and kiss Jack’s head. He knows the drill and runs off for your phone, still charging in the bedroom.

“Understood, ma’am. I’ll be there first. We gotta get Jack squared away but I’ll get going while -” He pauses, probably interrupted by Strauss again. “Thank you...Yes...I’ll be there as soon as I can and the rest of the team will meet at the scene.”

You know that also means you. You also can’t ignore the prick of anxiety that shoots through your belly, knowing he’ll likely be in danger without you for at least a half-hour.

Jack returns with your phone, Jessica already on the line.

+++

Aaron, of course, leaves right away while you wait for Jess.

You sit on the couch with Jack. “I’m so sorry, buddy. We’ll have to do a big day, just the three of us, another time.”

Jack shrugs. “It’s okay. Sometimes you just gotta catch the bad guys.”

The offhand nature of his understanding strikes you as instantly hilarious, and he laughs with you when you double over, wiping tears from your eyes.

“Yeah. Sometimes you just do, kiddo.”

+++

When you finally arrive at the scene, Dave’s already set up hostage negotiation. You cross the street, finding Will and JJ huddled with Emily and Derek.

“You okay?” You ask, placing your hand on Will’s shoulder. He’s not just JJ’s not-husband. He’s your friend, too, all on his own.

“Yeah, jus’ fine.” He shakes his head. “Jus’ a little rattled, is all.”

“Understandable.”

His mouth presses into a thin line as he exhales. “Thanks.” He checks his watch. “Y’all should get on back. I think Strauss just showed up.”

JJ kisses his cheek and trots off to meet the rest of the unit. After another hug for Will, you follow suit.

+++

“The media's calling them the Face Cards. Seven bank robberies in seven months. They've killed one person at each robbery.” Aaron leads the rest of you to the trailer, where the monitors are all set up.

Dave furrows his brow. “M. O.?”

“Single gunshot wound. Each of the victims has bled out.”

That doesn’t make much sense.

You jump in. “Serial killers with a 30-day cooling-off period and we're only just hearing about this now?”

“Well, headquarters has always characterized them robbers first and killers second,” Aaron replies, glancing back at you. You roll your eyes.

Of course they did.

“No one kills seven people without serious psychopathic tendencies,” Spencer notes. He’s more than right, and you thought the same thing - it’s almost like he took the words out of your mouth.

“I disagreed with the original assessment. I was overruled.” Aaron’s bland version of frustration is clear in his tone, but he knows, just as you do, that ship has sailed. All you can do now is handle what’s in front of you.

“So why are we here now?” Dave asks.

“Because crisis negotiation is overseas.”

Aaron starts to walk again as JJ asks after more information. Aaron usually rattles it off pretty quickly, but with the quick start this morning, you know he trusts the rest of you to ask the questions you need. “What more do we know about them?

“They're organized, they're efficient. Each strike lasts about two minutes.”

Derek, walking beside you, finally joins the conversation. “They gotta be scouting the banks in advance. Why haven't we been able to identify them off of surveillance footage?”

“They hack the security feed and turn off the cameras, both during the initial canvass and during the robbery, until the masks come back on, and then we're allowed to watch.” Aaron leads you all into the tactical staging truck, watching the security feeds.

+++

As you continue to watch, the scene becomes clearer, the power dynamics more tangible.

Dave sees it, too. “They're using the hostages as human shields.”

JJ, with Will beside her, studies the footage, watching the Queen run around while the King finds himself preoccupied with the Jack’s wound. “This is the first time they've been interrupted. What went wrong?”

“It's a big bank,” Emily says. “It's possible they weren't about to round everybody up before someone triggered an alarm.”

That’s a fair point, but you ask your question anyway. “Why haven't they cut the feed now that they've been cornered?”

Derek, still beside you, answers. “Letting us see inside gives up a tactical advantage. They gotta know that.”

They don't seem to care,” Aaron says, from your other side.

You’re all silent for another minute, watching to see what happens next. Even though their plans went awry, the team still looks fairly calm and collected, all things considered.

JJ’s frown only deepens. “They're overconfident. Arrogant, even.”

“The face card masks add to their narcissism.” Spencer’s voice comes from the end of the line. “Their personas are the royalty of poker.”

You nod - it’s a great point - while Aaron starts making assignments.

“JJ, Reid, and Prentiss, look at past robberies. That's gonna be our victimology. Pull another analyst if you need to.” He turns to you, then Dave, on his other side. “I want you two to handle negotiations. And, Morgan, strategize tactical options with MPD.”

You shuffle, gathering your radio and earpiece from the charger next to Penelope’s computer.

When the rest of the team leaves, you hang back with Dave, keying into the radio channels and standing by for further instruction - you know there’s more for you in the trailer at the moment.

Further instruction, though, may have to wait. Strauss climbs the steps into the rig and Aaron greets her. “Chief Strauss.”

“The Director ordered me to supervise your operation.”

Of course he did.

“Puts you right in the spotlight,” Dave says, not unkindly. It’s almost fond.

You can’t help but hold back a little bit of a smile. If the situation were reversed and it was Aaron at the helm, you’d be proud of him, too.

“Well, you've got gunmen with hostages in the Capital. The Hill's concerned.”

Aaron nods, gesturing to you and Dave. “We're about to open lines of communication.”

“What about a tactical assault?”

The three of you shake your heads as Aaron responds. “I don't think it's a good idea. There are hostages in front of the doors and windows.”

Erin, finally onboard, turns to Dave. “What's your negotiation strategy?”

“The Jack's bleeding out. They'll ask for medical attention.”

You hum, a little skeptical, and look back at the feed. “The female unsub might have something to say about that. Look at her body language.”

Dave follows your gaze. “She is cold and detached. The King seems genuinely concerned about his partner's welfare. But she couldn't give a damn.”

Your eyebrows raise. “The men probably know each other.”

Aaron, picking up on your train of thought, flags Penelope, “Garcia?”

She turns in her chair, already typing. “Shuffling my techno-fabulous deck of databases, sir.”

And so it begins.

+++

“I’ll do the talking - I’ll need to establish some rapport with them, but I’ll need you keeping the team updated and coordinating any allowances or personnel as things come up, okay?”

You nod, a little smile pulling at the side of your mouth. “You got it.”

Dave claps your shoulder. “You’ll be in this chair one day, so pay attention.”

“Yes, sir.”

He dials in and the phone starts ringing through the speaker. You’ll be able to hear everything.

“Who the hell's this?” You check the monitor. The King picked up the phone.

Obviously, the Jack can’t pick up the phone, stupid, he’s bleeding out!

“My name is David Rossi. I'm with the FBI. To whom am I speaking?”

The King doesn’t address the question, but rather looks back toward his fallen compatriot. “All right, I want a doctor sent in, and then I want out of here.”

Dave checks his watch. “Well, we certainly can discuss that. Let the hostages go and we'll give you all the medical help you need.”

You take a mental note. Your memories from Dave’s lectures at the academy are fuzzy at best, and you haven’t had very much time handling these things in the field. The last time a major hostage crisis was at hand, you were a hostage yourself.

A shot hostage, if the chronic nerve pain in your shoulder is any reminder.

“I can't do that. I need the leverage.”

“How about a sign of good faith? Send out the women and children and I'll see what I can do.”

You watch as the King takes the phone away from his mouth. You can vaguely hear him update the Queen, but she’s not having it. She pulls a child from the lineup and your lower lip disappears between your teeth.

A man, you presume the girl’s father, speaks to the Queen before she shoots him in the abdomen. The King gets back on the line.

“You better send in some more help or more people are gonna die.” He hangs up.

Shit.

+++

“You’re not seriously considering sending an agent in there?” You turn on Hotch and he sighs, pressing his fingers to the bridge of his nose.

“We don’t have much of a choice. I’m not the authority on-site and with the director pressing Strauss, there’s not much I can do.”

The two of you are alone for the time being, so you’re able to rib him for a second to lighten the tension.

“What’s the point of being unit chief if you can’t lord it over everyone all the time?”

You're rewarded with a shadow of a smile and a snort. “Don’t be ridiculous. I lord it over you plenty.”

“Not enough.” Your tone is childish, the words murmured under your breath.

When he walks away, he taps the side of your ass with the back of his hand. If you weren’t in a professional setting, you could mistake it for a promise.

But, Aaron, that would be unprofessional!

You turn to look at him and just catch his wink as he hops up the steps behind Strauss.

+++

With Garcia’s magic and Aaron’s genius, you figure out that the men are related.

While Rossi hops on the next phone call, you help Derek outfit the medic with a bug and a weapon.

“We're sending in the medic now, Chris. Tell Oliver help is on the way.”

Derek nods at the medic and he hops off, heading into the bank. You jog over to the trailer only to find a humorously horrified look on Strauss’s face.

“Is she…”

You get closer, looking up at the monitor.

“...putting on lipstick?”

You scoff. “She’s vain. Only contributes to a profile of vanity and narcissism. She likes to be seen - this is a game for her.”

You jog back out before Strauss can respond, taking your place between Aaron and Derek.

“Green. You gotta go. Green. Go,” Derek says into his mic.

The agent-turned-medic makes a move and immediately gets a shot between the eyes for his trouble. Your hand files over your mouth and Derek ducks away, taking a second.

Well, that couldn’t have been any worse.

You look at Aaron, still staring at the screen, beside you. He’s thinking the same thing.

+++

Derek walks up to you, kevlar and sunglasses firmly in place. “Tactical's been deployed, snipers are moving into position.”

At your questioning look, Strauss clarifies. “The Director's ordered a full tactical assault.”

The look doesn’t leave your face. “His last orders cost us an agent.”

Radio transmissions fly one ear and out the other, not to mention the flurry of activity around the negotiation tent. Before Strauss can reply, Will’s call shoots past you to Aaron.

“SWAT's getting itchy fingers.”

Aaron turns, covering his comm mic at his chest. “You remind SWAT that bank robberies are federal jurisdiction. No one fires until they're ordered to.”

“Right.”

Will disappears and you suppress a little pleased shudder. Aaron’s very much in control now and it is doing things to your body that are better suited for, well, anywhere else. You tighten the velcro across your chest as if to compress another rush of… nothing useful.

Aaron turns back to you, Dave, Derek, and Strauss. “All right, when the crossfire starts, what's gonna happen to the hostages caught in the middle?”

The question is a trap, and Dave doubles down. “That's the wrong call, Erin, and you know it.”

Strauss falters for a minute, leveling with the rest of you. “It's not my call.”

Aaron doesn’t let up. “You're here and you're in charge.” His tone is sharper than yours would be in the same situation, but you’re nearly fifteen years younger and a whole four steps down on the totem pole.

Not for the first time, a rush of affection and gratitude for him crests over your in a wave and you have to look away, taking a deep breath to collect yourself. When you look back, he’s watching you.

I’m okay.

He nods as Erin speaks again.

“So you want me to disobey the Director?” Erin sounds dubious, at best.

Dave responds quickly. “Yes.”

Aaron amends, and if the situation wasn’t so tense his correction would almost be funny. “No. I just want you to buy us a little time.” He pauses, wavering for a second as he rephrases. “Don't be quite so efficient.”

You’re never surprised by Aaron’s political savvy, but it is a nice reminder that he can run circles around every bureaucrat in the district if given the chance.

“Whatever you're gonna do, do it fast.”

+++

“It’s an impossible ask, Dave. You know JJ will never go for it.”

“It’s not up to JJ.” Aaron’s voice approaches from behind you. “It’s the director’s call, but mine first.”

He comes to rest beside you as Dave leaves the two of you alone.

“What are you gonna do?” You look at Aaron, finding his eyes trained on the monitor, arms crossed over his chest.

He sighs. “If it was you he asked for...”

You bump his shoulder. “What, not interested in feeding me to serial killers today?”

It’s a loaded joke, especially for the two of you, but after Emily, you’re past such things. If the situation were reversed, Haley would never stop giving you hell for getting serial-killed the way she did. It’s only fair to return the favor.

“Over my dead body, baby.” He reaches down to squeeze your hand for a second before letting you go. “Do me a favor?”

“Anything.”

“Stay here.”

+++

You can hear JJ’s anguished shouts from here, beside Dave and the phone.

Derek has a good enough hold on her, Emily and Aaron protecting him from JJ’s wild elbows. She’s beside herself but eventually breaks free and sprints back toward the trailer. You turn to follow her, just in time to hear a gunshot.

Will.

+++

You’re all gathered in the trailer as JJ asks the same questions over and over again. Garcia, just like the first time, doesn’t have any answers.

The static on the monitors is nearly deafening in its silence.

JJ looks at you for a moment and takes a shaky breath before looking at Hotch. Her eyes are red-rimmed and her voice is broken when she speaks. “Aaron.”

You know he’s never been able to deny her anything. In the entire time you’ve known him, it’s one of the few things that hasn’t changed.

His eyes don’t budge from hers. “We’re going in.”

+++

You press the heels of your hands to your eyes, trying to stem the stinging from the heat and debris. Your ears ring and you’ve got a scrape on your chin from where you face-planted into the asphalt.

Eventually, you remove your hands and open your eyes to the early summer sunshine. Your bias is clear enough - Aaron’s the first one you look for and the first one you find.

He’s looking a little dazed and more than a little ruffled, but alive.

Ignoring the whine in your ears and swiping some blood off your face, you jog over to him, taking stock of him from head to toe. “You alright?”

He doesn’t answer right away, and you realize he probably can’t hear you. An image of Kate reaching for you and the smell of blood flashes into your head, but you push it away.

His ear…

“Aaron?” You lay a hand on his shoulder and he startles a little, meeting your eyes and coming back to himself all at once.

He puts his hands on your shoulders, tipping your jaw up with one finger to examine your chin. “You’re hurt.”

“Honey, I’m fine. Your ear…” You follow a small trickle of blood up the side of his neck, rounding him to get a better look. Just as you’d feared, his bad ear is bleeding again.

He waves off your concern and taps his comm mic, calling for support in quick, clear soundbites. You snag the back of his vest before he can get too far away from you.

“As soon as you’re done with that, please get it looked at.”

With a sigh, he nods and gestures to your chin. “I will if you do.”

You roll your eyes.

“Where’s Emily?” You hear Morgan ask JJ as they get their bearings around you.

With a start, you follow them into the building, attached to a couple of SWAT agents. You know Aaron will get after you for going in before everything’s cleared by bomb squad, but you can’t keep still.

The heartache you feel for JJ supersedes anything else going on in your head. It’s something that plagues you all the time - the both of you doing this job. Losing Aaron in the field is a stark reality you can hardly consider at any point, especially when evidence of its reality is right in front of you.

+++

Aaron can’t help himself - he pulls you close after you’re both released by the paramedics, pressing a kiss to your head. It’s almost desperate as he leans back and pulls your collar from your vest, his hands smoothing over your shoulders.

“I need to debrief SWAT and first responders - can you stay with Dave and help with the media?”

“Okay. Let me know if you need any extra hands - I’ll send ‘em right over.”

He smiles at you, soft, small, and affectionate. “Thank you.”

+++

You pull your phone from your pocket.

She picks up on the second ring. “Yeah?”

“Hey, Jess.”

“Hey.” She pauses. “You okay?”

With a shaky sigh, you reply. “Yeah. I’m fine. Aaron’s fine.”

“I heard about the explosion. Is there anything I can do?”

“No, we’re fine. Just...Just stay out of the city.” After another breath. “Is Jack okay?”

She laughs a little. “Yeah. He’s fine. He’s a little anxious but I turned off the TV and we’re headed out to the park for a little while.”

“Good.” You look over at Aaron, who holds your eyes for a second before returning to his EMS strategy huddle.

“Be safe and come home to us soon, okay?”

“Yeah. We will. We love you. Tell Jack we -”

“ - Of course.”

+++

You follow Spencer through the debris once you’re done handling the media storm with Dave. Picking through the rubble, searching for something - anything - but not finding much.

Derek’s voice echoes through the ruined, cavernous space that used to be the main lobby. “Everything they've said and done was for a reason. But what doesn't make any sense is she switched the negotiation demand. Chris wanted to go to Switzerland. She changed it to Chad.”

“They also requested a private plane,” you note, “but no mention of a pilot.”

Spencer stops, and you almost run into him. Emily stops as well, looking back at the pair of you as Spencer organizes his thoughts. When he’s ready to speak, he says, “Guys, if you think about it, even the dates mean something. In 2004, while she was wreaking havoc abroad, he was dishonorably discharged. Then in 2008, they likely met in Chad. And now this in 2012.”

Good thought. But then again, when is one of Spencer’s thoughts bad?

It’s a decent enough question, and you run the gamut of all the surprising and absurd things Spencer’s said in your presence over the years. One in particular comes to mind.

Evil twin, eviler twin.

You hold back a little laugh, despite the harrowing circumstances.

Yeah, that one was pretty bad.

“Okay.” Derek grabs your attention again. “So, is it a coincidence that those are all election years and they attacked D.C.? Maybe this is a political statement.”

Emily’s eyes are stuck on something on the ground, but you’re not sure if it’s what she’s really looking at. “No. It's more personal than that. It's their story.”

Derek’s brow pinches. “What?”

“All of the details are a part of their story.”

She starts to leave through one of the shattered windows and you follow her back to the trailer, Spencer and Derek not far behind. She hops up the steps and you take your place beside Aaron once you’re all inside. It’s much cozier in here, with eight of you.

Spencer fills the rest of the team in on your conversation inside. Unsurprisingly, it’s rote - read like a cold script.

Emily picks up when he’s done. “Their timeline suggests they were both destructive before they met.”

“So we're talking about ex-military turning on their country.” Strauss looks and sounds skeptical, but you can’t blame her. In American culture, it’s rather incongruous.

Now who sounds like Spencer?

“It's rare, but soldiers become disenfranchised no matter what the nationality. And if he met someone like-minded at that time, there'd be no stopping them.”

“So you're thinking they met during the civil unrest in Chad in '08.” Aaron’s voice isn’t skeptical - more probing. You can see the wheels turning behind his eyes.

“Yeah,” Spencer says. “And one or both of them are pilots.”

“So if Garcia concentrates on that region,” Emily points to an area on a map, lit up on the monitor, “specifically weapons running in and out of Libya, there's a good chance we'll find their paths crossed.”

Penelope types furiously for a moment, her fingers flying over the keys. “Okay, multiple entries into Libya for a private pilot named Matthew Downs in '08, but I don't have her name.”

“Well, because she had aliases. It's the only way to stay a ghost.”

Looks like Emily’s Interpol knowledge is coming in handy.

She continues. “Here's the thing - they are a couple. Regardless of what we believe of them, they will celebrate themselves and their connection.” She turns to Penelope, a thought sparking behind her eyes. “Is there anything that happened on this date in Chad?”

“Oh, you are good, Emily Prentiss.” Penelope types for a moment and you lean forward, watching her work. “But this news is not. Yes, there were multiple explosions on this date in '08.”

Aaron speaks from beside you. He’s a little closer than you thought, and it startles you a little.

In fairness, you’re still jumpy from the explosion.

“Where were the most casualties?”

“At a church-- no, no, a train. Yep.”

Morgan squints at the photos of the hulled-out building. “Semtex and C-4?”

Penelope nods while Aaron turns toward Strauss. “Are trains still arriving at Union Station?”

“Yes, but only the authorities are allowed in.” There’s a moment where she almost looks panicked, but collects herself as the rest of you gear up to leave.

Emily exhales down her nose. “That’s why they needed Will.”

+++

Aaron drives impossibly fast through the district. You sit in the back seat with Emily, holding onto the handles above the door for dear life.

You’ve never flashed your badge so many times in such a short period. Aaron tucked his badge into a strap of his vest, just to save time, but still has his credentials locked between his fingers as he drives. If you didn’t trust him so much, it would freak you out a little.

+++

The comm in your ear crackles as Emily speaks. “I found Will.”

“Is he mobile?” Aaron’s voice comes both from beside you and your comm - it’s a little disorienting, but you push through.

“Negative. He's got 6 transmitters on him and this whole place is gonna blow.”

There’s hardly a hesitation in Aaron’s steps as he processes the information. “All right, where are you? I'm on my way.”

He’d like to think he’s made of steel.

Sometimes he is.

“No,” Emily asserts. “You gotta get everyone out. Is the bomb squad here yet?”

“They're 3 minutes away.”

“Copy.” She sounds a little disappointed, or maybe frustrated, but doesn’t say anything else.

He turns back to you, holding you by the shoulders. “I want you leading evacuation. Get out of here.”

Tears prick at your eyes and honestly, this is the first moment you’ve really been afraid. Existentially afraid. Afraid of walking out of this train station and leaving Aaron and Emily and Will to blow up. “I’ll see you later?”

“Yep. Go.” He tries to push you away, but you resist.

“Promise?”

His brown eyes soften as his mouth presses into a thin line. “Can’t. I love you. Get outta here.”

You bounce on your toes for a second, acutely aware you’re wasting valuable time, before yanking him forward to kiss his cheek before you sprint away from him, shouting instructions to the panicked crowd as you go.

+++

You catch up with Derek, racing to catch your suspect. He corners him in an alley but can’t quite overpower him. You reach for your sidearm, but by the time you take aim, Downs is already on the ground, a gunshot ringing through the air.

Startled, you turn over your shoulder to find Aaron still staring down the sight of his Glock.

Could take an eye out, with that thing.

You sigh and holster your weapon. Derek looks plenty dazed and you don’t blame him. It’s not often he’s on the receiving end of a near-miss in close combat. He looks over your shoulder and you can see something pass between him and Aaron.

Maybe one day, Derek will know how much Aaron loves and respects him.

You watch Derek shake it off and stumble as he attempts to rise to his feet.

Today is not that day.

Coming to your senses, you trot forward and help him to his feet, brushing wayward asphalt off of him. You turn back to Aaron. “Everything alright?”

He ignores you, pressing the mic at his chest as he begins to run back toward the station. “Prentiss, what’s your status?”

+++

Seeing Will and Emily leave the building in one piece is a relief. You meet Aaron’s gaze and his eyes are exhausted. The gears in his head still whir. He’s still in game-mode, and it’s a good thing.

With the logistical nightmare of two bomb threats in one day, there’s a lot of work ahead of you.

+++

You swing back and forth in your desk chair, brain completely numb from the paperwork. It’s been a long day, and you’ve been up since three this morning, what with your flight back from California. You’re certain you’ve had longer days than this one, but you’re approaching twenty-one hours without sleep and it feels worse than you remember.

What were we planning to do today?

A bike ride and museum day with Jack seems impossibly long ago. Last week, maybe.

Derek and Emily sit on their desks, attempting to keep a conversation going without much luck.

They were house-hunting this morning.

Penelope slowly descends the stairs as Spencer turns in his seat. “The convention’s still happening tomorrow if you want to go.”

They were at a convention this morning.

Everyone had lives this morning. Weird.

She makes an uncertain noise. “That whole city-on-the-brink-of-destruction thing kinda took the wind out of my sails, you know?”

You look up at her as she takes her place beside Spencer. “It’ll get you every time.”

“You gotta watch out for that,” Emily adds. It makes you smile a little.

Derek looks a little less amused, reminding Emily they’ll have to finish the inspection another time. Between Spencer and Penelope, Emily cops to a crack in the foundation of her almost-home.

“That does not sound good,” Penelope says. You can’t help but agree.

There’s a weird look on Derek’s face, but you ignore it in favor of Strauss’s descent on the stairs.

“Our unsub,” she says, “is Izzy Rogers. She'll be charged with multiple counts domestically, and our international counterparts will have their turn with her. She will never see the light of day.” A little smile graces her lips.

You realize with the tiniest of laughs (really - it’s a one on the Aaron Hotchner scale of laugher, which means it’s hardly noticeable to the naked eye) that you don’t hate her or even dislike her as much as you used to. Maybe, you even want her around.

Don’t push it.

“I just thought you'd like to know that.”

The five of you murmur something that sounds like, “Thank you, ma’am.”

She pulls Derek, probably to kick his ass for something or another and send herself back on your shit list.

That’s a problem for another time.

You take Izzy Rogers’s file from Emily, looking over an impressive rap sheet. You’re happy for a few things.

The first - that Aaron’s not a federal prosecutor anymore. This’ll be a case for the ages.

The second - you’ll never have to think about her again.

The third - you’re not sure. You’re sleep-deprived. It’ll come to you.

She cost me my precious eight hours and I’ll never forgive her.

Out of the corner of your eye, you see Aaron leave his office. You set the file down and look up at him, halfway-hoping for once he’ll tell you to go home without him.

“Dave wants to know if everyone is free tomorrow night.”

Without any inflection at all, you reply. “We better not be doing anything tomorrow night.”

“Well,” Derek says, interrupting Emily’s snort. “If he’s buying, then I’m definitely in.”

Emily, Spencer, and Penelope jump onto Derek’s conditional acceptance and a rare smile pulls at Aaron’s face, his dimples on full display.

“Hear that? We’re in.”

+++

When you get home, Aaron all-but carries you to bed. With the tenderest of hands, he removes your shoes and socks, unbuttons your pants, slides them down your legs, and throws them in the laundry basket.

You’re practically wilting where you sit, feeling more and more like a sleepy toddler by the minute.

Aaron unbuttons your shirt and slips it off your shoulders, kissing each cheek in turn. “I’ll start a shower.”

You move to protest, but he strips and that mostly shuts you up. He starts the water before he returns to your side.

“I just want to sleep, Aar. Please.”

“Baby,” he says, a fond little pleading note in his tone. “We just changed the sheets. Do you really want to get semtex all over them?”

With a huff - “No.”

He smiles and helps you to your feet. “Didn’t think so.”

You’re so tired, it doesn't even cross your mind to take advantage of the shared shower or his lack of clothes. By the time he dries you off, tucks you in, and locks the bedroom door to ward off the over-eager six-year-old down the hall, you’re asleep.

His own exhaustion pulling at him, he doesn’t have the time or energy to cherish how peaceful, safe, and warm you look. He just draws you close to him until he can feel your heartbeat.

Sleep takes him rapidly after that.

+++

As Will and JJ exchange their vows, you tuck further into Aaron’s arms. His whisper floats past your ear, barely audible. “Wanna do that sometime?”

“What? Get married?” Your voice is just as quiet.

“Mhmm.”

“Only if it’s you.”

There’s a kiss pressed to your temple with a smile behind it. “I think I can make that happen.”

You turn your head to the side to keep your snark from carrying. “Please don’t propose to me right now. This weekend’s been long enough.”

Derek kicks the side of your foot from where he stands beside you, unable to hear the conversation but knowing you both well enough to keep you from tumbling down the rabbit hole of distraction.

Aaron presses another kiss to your temple. “I love you.” You feel it rather than hear it.

You pick up one of his hands and kiss the back of it. You don’t need to say anything.

+++

Aaron holds you close as you dance together, surrounded by your family. JJ and Will sway back and forth nearby, wrapped entirely in each other. Erin and Dave have been surprisingly brave, dancing and laughing quietly together throughout the evening.

As nice as it was to just have something for the two of you, sharing your love with your family has its own set of perks. You don’t have to hide anymore or justify your pigheaded protection of the other.

You can just… be.

+++

Eventually, Dave calls all the “...fortunately unmarried individuals to the dance floor,” and refuses to let anyone slip through the cracks.

When Aaron hangs back, drink in-hand and a little smile on his face, Dave calls him out. “Divorcés and widowers, too, c’mon.” He pauses, finding another tactic when Aaron doesn’t move. “If you’re both, you get extra points!”

Aaron rolls his eyes and you look around, finding an inappropriate amount of humor in JJ’s confused relatives. You can’t help but bark a loud laugh when you see how hard Derek’s trying to keep his mirth at bay.

Too soon for the dead wife jokes? He seems to ask. Can I laugh?

Something in your eyes gives him tacit permission and he nearly blinds you with his smile.

When Dave’s tricks fall short, you do your best to pull Aaron from the sideline with your best set of bedroom eyes. He courageously resists, so you give up and settle next to Anderson. “What do you think Dave’s come up with, this time?”

“God only knows.”

Anderson, like the rest of you, knows that Dave’s hosting abilities know no bounds.

“Because so many of you are joyfully unmarried, the newlyweds wanted to make sure there was someone else to suffer the slings and arrows of matrimony with them in the near future. Thus,” he opens his arm to JJ, who appears with her bouquet and a smile, “the bouquet toss will be an equal-opportunity event.”

With a laugh and a shake of your head, you prepare to duck out of the way.

You look over at Aaron. This is ridiculous.

He only shakes his head, hiding his smile behind his drink. And yet…

He leaves the rest of the implication unsaid, but you flip him off for good measure. Your exchange must have taken longer than you thought because before you know it, you have a face full of white roses. It’s over.

You pull the flowers from your face and level JJ with a glare across the dance floor. “Really?”

She raises her eyebrows and shrugs. “I turned my back and everything.”

There are whoops and hollers from your team and you can only roll your eyes. Derek and Will strong-arm Aaron onto the dance floor (you know he let them - if he really wanted to avoid you, they wouldn’t be able to move him an inch), where you’re both cajoled into a kiss and a photo. Penelope’s on the other side of the camera, grinning from ear to ear.

She waves at Aaron over the camera. “Smile for real, damn you!”

She amends, adding, “Sir,” for good measure. It has its intended effect and she’s rewarded with a rare, bright laugh from her unit chief.

Absurd traditions aside, you’d be lying if said you stopped smiling even once.

+++

As the party settles, some couples stay out on the dance floor, sedately twirling and swaying to the music that continues to play across the yard.

You and Aaron have relaxed significantly since the Great Bouquet Debacle, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, the top two buttons of his shirt undone. You’re sitting across his lap, playing with the hair at the nape of his neck, with one of his arms wrapped around your middle and the other draped over your knees - the picture of relaxation.

Penelope, Derek, Emily, and Will have taken up residence on the other side of the dance floor, their heads close together and voices low.

Aaron’s eyes slide over them as he watches the room, scanning out of habit. “What do you think they’re talking about?”

You lean further into him as four pairs of eyes flicker over to you before returning to their huddle. “Us, probably.”

He hums, understanding and pensive. “Probably our sex life, right?”

“Probably,” you sigh, playing at boredom. He covers your hand with one of his and you play with his fingers - lacing, unlacing, kissing his knuckles.

It’s nice to feel safe, comfortable enough to love each other where curious eyes can see you.

You can feel his smile against your forehead as he presses a kiss between your brows.

“I mean,” you continue, “there is a lot to talk about.”

He shrugs, adjusting his arm where it lays across your legs to keep you both comfortable in the seat you share. “That’s true enough. Though, I can’t imagine any of their projections being right.”

+++

“I bet they’re into like…tantric sex. Like hours and hours and hours you know?” Penelope says, conspiracy the top note in her tone.

Derek looks at her and she backtracks, only a little on the defensive.

“What? Spencer’s talked to me about it before and I...read.”

He rolls his eyes, but Emily spares Penelope from any further interrogation.

“I could see that.” She watches the way your fingers wander over Aaron’s bare forearm, playing with the ridges of his watch, the way his thumb absent-mindedly draws small circles on your outer thigh. “Yeah, actually I think that’s exactly what happens.”

+++

“What do you think they’ve got so far?”

He plays at boredom. “They’re probably trying to take a guess at anything they can reach - with both of our profiles in Derek’s pocket, he’s going to have the most luck, I think.”

“Really?” You ask. “Not Emily?”

He snorts. “No. She has her mind on other things.”

That holds you up for a second, and you’re not sure if he’s still playing into the bit. “Wait, what do you mean?”

He shakes his head. “I’ll tell you later.”

“She’s resigning, isn’t she?” You give up the fun and lay your head in the crook between his neck and shoulder.

Without thinking, his hand rises to your cheek, affectionately brushing over your cheekbone before dropping back down. “She might be.”

“Did she do that thing where she sighs really big and then looks off to the upper right middle distance?”

“Yeah.”

“Shit.”

You’re both quiet for a moment, just enjoying the low lull of the music and the lights and the sights and smiles of your family.

“Hey.”

You lean back a little and meet Aaron’s eyes. “Yeah?”

“What’s my tell?”

The concern drops out of your face all at once. “You think I’m gonna spill just like that so you can go and change it on me? Not a chance.”

He sighs and his chin tips up in defeat. “So I have one?”

“Of course you do, stupid.” You flick his chest and a laugh rumbles through him. “Everyone does. You know mine, I know yours. You’re gonna have to get over it.”

“So you’ve caught me in lies before?” He asks, not without humor.

“Duh. I’m pretty sure I’ve caught every lie you’ve ever told, but you seemed so proud of yourself that I just let you have it.”

You can almost feel the eye roll. “Really?” He sounds skeptical. “Name one lie you’ve caught me in.”

“Alright.” You count off on your fingers. “You dinged my car door a couple of weeks ago, you definitely didn’t drop the bags at Goodwill, you do know it wasn’t Jack who finished the ice cream in the freezer, you -”

“Okay.” He covers your hands with his and kisses your fingers. “That’s enough. I get it.”

You kiss his cheek. “I’m sure you’ve caught me in every single lie I’ve ever told, too, huh?”

“Only every once since the day we met. Yours is obvious.”

It’s a trap. You don’t take it. “Hmm. That’s convenient.”

“Isn’t it?”

You lean back to look at him. “You’re a shit, you know that?”

He nods and raises his eyebrows, a cheeky, close-mouthed smile slowly creeping across his face.

You playfully smack his chest with the back of your hand. “Fucker.”

He says something under his breath and you level him with a look that has him repeating himself.

“I said, you wish.”

You roll your eyes and tuck back into his neck, kissing the skin above his collar. You can feel him shiver and you know you’ve got him. “Not just wish, honey. Know.”

+++

tagging: @writefasttalkevenfaster @arganfics @quillvine @stxrryspencer @hurricanejjareau @ughitsbaby @rousethemouse @criminalsmarts @genevievedarcygranger @ssaic-jareau @davidrossi-ismydad @angelsbabey @hotchsflower @hotchslatte @risenfox @mrs-dr-reid @captain-christopher-pike @dwellingsofrosie @pan-pride-12 @sunshine-em @word-scribbless @jdougl-love @dreila03 @forgottenword @aaronhotchnerr @ssa-morgan @sana-li @tegggeeee @abschaffer2 @ssacandice-ray @ellyhotchner @lotties-journey-abroad @mrs-joel-pimentel-23-25 @mooneylupinblack @ssareidbby @bwbatta @wakatoshislover @capricorngf @missdowntonabbey @averyhotchner @mandylove1000 @qvid-pro-qvo @jeor @spencers-hoodrat @popped-weasels @evee87 @nuvoleincielo @this-broken-band-girl @reidtomestyles @hotch-meeeeeuppppp @winqhster @arthurmorrgans @the-falling-in-the-danger @iconicc @mangoberry43 @andreasworlsboring101 @mac99martin @itsalwaysb33nyou @baumarvel @kerrswriting @messyhairday-me @ssworldofsw @deagibs @crazyshannonigans @moonshinerbynight @jhiddles03 @teamhappyme @mendesmelodies @starsandasteroids @unicorn-bitch @ambicaos @bispences @thebivirgin

#aaron hotchner x reader #hotch x reader #aaron hotchner imagine #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fanfiction #aaron hotchner #criminal minds #hotch #tali writes fanfiction #tali talks cm #a joyful future #a joyful future fanfic

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haztory · 3 years

Text

𝐨𝐟 𝐟𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐤 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝. (2)

-chapter two: the story of us; warnings for this chapter include a brief discussion and mentioning of sexual assault. it is not described in detail nor does it happen to anyone in this fic. i will not ever be using sexual assault as a plot device as i think that’s unnecessary. however, because it is prevalent in female culture, or at least the discussion of it is, it is briefly mentioned.

if this makes anyone uncomfortable, please skip over! i will not be offended at all!

-summary: His eyes are a sea of green that you can't seem to stop drowning in.

a/n: this chapter is a doozy yall, im so sorry. this is mainly to serve as complete exposition of reader and iwa, so it’s hella long. i had an original idea of how i wanted this to go and then i started writing and this happened. lmfao. thank you all for being patient and loving and your comments are so wonderful! i had midterms all last week and all i could think about was writing this! so thank you all and i hope you all enjoy! next chapter will be pure chaos and fun!

i was listening to “cloud 9″ by beach bunny for this chapter! so that might help you understand how i see reader and iwa <33

(w.c.: 8,662 words)

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You’re ten years old when you meet Iwaizumi Hajime for the first time.

He’s an inch shorter than you, skinny, hair set in an unorganized mess of spikes, and he smells of sweat. It’s the least enticing first impression you’ve ever encountered, wondering briefly if this is what all of Miyagi Prefecture has to offer.

Because if so, you’re not looking forward to it.

He’s blocking the entrance to the neighborhood park with his bike, back facing towards you and an arm stretched outward-pointing at something across the park. The same park that your mother has forced you to attend, kicking you out of your new home filled with moving boxes, a warm smile on her face and a simple request to “go have fun”.

A request that was starting to seem like more of a problem than you anticipated.

You’re halted in front of the gates to the area for a solid minute, the boy in front of you being less than aware of your presence as he continues to shout from across the park.

“Grab all of them, Oikawa!”

There’s another boy roughly the same age holding several items that look to be action figures close to his chest. His face is scrunched up and his shoulders slouched as he takes exaggerated sluggish steps while crossing the courtyard. He’s sweaty too, just like the boy in front of you.

“But there’s so many, Iwaaa. Can’t you help me?”

“You’re such a baby, Oikawa.”

The one named Oikawa is about to respond when he stops his movements altogether. He merely points his finger, eyes fixated on something behind his black-haired friend.

You realize a bit too late that he’s pointing at you.

The friend, Iwa as he was called, turns his head with a questioning hum, green eyes meeting yours. A sea of emerald.

“Oh,” he breathes out, voice high in timber and flooded in awkwardness, raising his hand in a shy greeting, “Uh, hi.”

“Hi,” you respond in equal awkwardness, the kind that only a new kid can embody. Uneasiness has been settled into your bones ever since the move was announced, and now, as you stand before two physical embodiments of your displacement in this area, the feeling seems to sink even deeper into your stomach. “You’re blocking the entrance.”

“Huh? Oh! Sorry ‘bout that.” He begins a cumbersome shuffle of pushing the bike he was sitting on backward, small grunts escaping his mouth as he tries to make space for you to enter. It’s a slow process, considering he teeters from side to side and struggles to smoothly retreat from the space. Oikawa snickers in the background, some teasing words being aired that you are too far to hear, but they must be irking enough considering Iwa mutters a “shut up, idiot” in response.

The friendship is formidable, you don’t need to know them for long to see that. Envy and all its bitter acid coat your tongue.

“Are you the one that just moved in?” Oikawa speaks up.

You nod.

“How old are you? Are you going to Kitagawa Elementary? Have you already—”

Iwa interrupts the ferociously excited boy with a gentle scoff, “Calm down, Oikawa. Give her some air. Geez.”

“I just want to know more about the new girl, Iwa-chan!”

“Yeah, well you’re doing it wrong.”

Oikawa rolls his eyes and clutches the toys in his arms tighter, “You do it then!”

“Do what?”

“Introduce us! Make friends!”

“I think you blew it already.”

“Ugh, you’re no fun. If she’s going to the same place as us, she might as well join us! What do you say, new girl?”

You’re shaken from the brief exclusion of the conversation— realizing they’re including you this time— when Iwa tears his eyes away from his friend and meets yours once again. Upon connection with the emeralds, your throat constricts your throat and the relief of ease washes over. The hesitancy that was bubbling in your stomach starts to dissipate when he looks at you— almost comforted by his dark yet steady stare— but the sense is quickly replaced by something else that shakes you. Your skin prickles, like fire ants marching up the pattern of your skin, and your palms start to sweat despite the cooling temperatures and the light breeze blowing against your skin.

You’d have to tell your mom about this, just to make sure you weren’t getting sick.

“Would you like to join us?” Iwa asks. There’s no trace of a smile on his face but the invitation isn’t lacking in warmth. It’s a subtle kind, almost imperceptible if it weren’t for the look of curiosity residing upon his features. He speaks gently, like there wasn’t a distance between you two and another person listening in on the conversation, pointing his question and attention solely at you. There was a center of his gravitational pull and it was in your direction.

He’s waiting for your answer, and not the kind that results after courteously asking someone a question; You can tell he is really waiting, wanting to know what you say because his eyes hold onto yours in a way that is much more mature than a boy at the tender age of ten should be looking at someone.

He’s sincere. He doesn’t even know you and yet he waits upon you as though your response were one he was to weigh considerably with his agenda. He’s a stranger, only said two things directly to you, and yet you feel weightless in the most minute of his attention.

The rocks of anxiety that were sitting heavily in your stomach for the past month have disappeared and the answer that he waits so intensely for comes rather naturally. It’s the surest you’ve felt in a while. You don't know them at all, aren't even sure if you'll like them, but what would you be other than a fool to not follow the path of certain safety laid out in front of you, disguised as a black-haired boy with the spiky hair? How can you be sure unless you don't see for yourself?

“Yeah,” you sigh out, burdensome weight lifting off your shoulders at the answer, “Can I?”

“Yeah. You can.” He affirms with a nod, the corner of his lips quirking upward. Oikawa, rather befittingly, shouts a cheer, resuming his incessant chatter in throwing an onslaught of questions your way but you’re not listening. Pulled elsewhere you find your gaze being drawn back to the calm and steady boy, with the sea of emerald in his eyes.

“I’m Iwaizumi Hajime, by the way. And that’s Oikawa Tooru.”

“I’m (Y/N).”

“Cool.”

You spend the whole day with them, quickly finding a natural place in their relationship, serving as the happy in-between of the flamboyant nature of Oikawa and the pillar of stone that is Iwaizumi. It’s fun, the most fun you’ve had in the entirety of your move that you find yourself trying to make some kind of excuse to extend the day when the sun starts to set.

But Oikawa has to go home, and so does Iwa, and the disappointment is more than apparent on your face. There’s the unmistakable promise of seeing one another again, that of which was affirmed when Oikawa held out his pinky for you to take and solidify the statement on.

“I can walk you home if you want.” Iwaizumi tells you after you both wave your goodbyes to the other brunet. It’s a godsend, a miracle from the heavens who heard your building plight and decided to spare your jilted mind with some form of comfort.

“Oh, you don’t have to,” you tell him, purely as a formality. Your mother’s lessons of never burdening others kicking into gear at his offer, but you plead, secretly in the deep recesses of your brain that he disagrees. Hope desperately that he’ll take the initiative and stay with you just a moment longer.

He shakes his head, bearing a toothy smile that is missing one of his canines. “I don’t mind. My mom always tells me to make sure girls get home safe.”

Calm, steady, comforting. You selfishly agree before you have half a mind to say otherwise, “Okay. I live this way.”

And as he trails beside you, holding his bike in his hands as he walks at the pace you set, telling you the details about his favorite monster movie, you find yourself incredibly enamored with the short, sweaty boy that hates green tea and loves summertime.

And not for the first time.

You’re thirteen when you realize that you have a terribly, horribly, deeply incessant crush on Iwaizumi Hajime.

It’s lunchtime and while you’re usually quick to eat with the resident bickering duo of Sendai, they’ve ditched you for volleyball practice— and not for the first time. So you sit with your other group of close friends, the ones you made through the conventional school setting, and not because they impulsively adopted you into their routine. They’re the necessary and equal balance to the growing testosterone you religiously spend your weekends with, so ultimately you’re not too upset at being left behind for a sport.

Besides, it’s nice to be surrounded by girls who talk about normal things instead of sweaty violent boys that only talk about volleyball and occasionally the things you like.

Mai, a girl with a short bob that frames her round face, shakes the table with her loud laughter, the curtain of her hair swaying in tune to her joyful movement. She was the first friend you made in this group, and easily the one you’re closest to. The complete opposite of Hajime if her unabashed, frantic excitement is anything to go by. But much like the spaces in this Miyagi heart of yours that’s dedicated to Tooru and Hajime, there’s one for her too. She grabs onto one of your arms and holds it tightly, seeking stability as her melodic laughter rings through your table.

It’s hard not to laugh alongside her.

“Please!” She begs Yua, a blonde girl in the year above you, and wipes her eyes free from the laughter-induced tears, “No more! I’m gonna pee!”

Yua huffs, shrugging her shoulders to say that Mai’s inability to hold her urine was beyond her control, “I’m serious! That’s how I found out Kaito had a crush on me!”

“And what did you do?” You ask, laughter lacing your own words at the tale Yua expertly weaved, describing in excruciating detail how Kaito from your third period wrote a love letter comparing Yua’s lips to that of a whale as if that was somehow a compliment.

“I ran away! What else was I supposed to do?!”

Mai howls with laughter, her body being thrown against yours and her arms flailing with the movements, unable to contain herself. You’re almost identical, finding that you follow Mai’s gesticulation in perfect countering. Where she pushes you left, you move in sync, allowing her to lean her weight on you as you both lose yourself in the story.

For as much seriousness as she tries to implement in her words, the quirking of her lips betray Yua, “Laugh all you want, but wait ‘til this happens to you! Then you’ll get it!”

“I don’t think Mai and I have to worry about that,” you tell her, the remainder of your laughter dying out of your words. Mai snaps upward, her body no longer slumped against yours, and instead of facing you with furrowed brows and an offended expression.

The two friends speak simultaneously, one with indignation and the other with confusion “Why not?”

The pointedness of the question makes it seem as though your words were wrong, a misstep in a direction that you have to apologize for. Regardless of whether or not you know why. “Uh, ‘cause no one likes us like that?”

Mai scoffs, crossing her arms and tilting her nose upwards, “Speak for yourself.”

“Sorry, no one likes me like that. So I don’t have to worry.” You say with a smile punctuating the statement with a scoop of rice into your mouth. It wasn’t a statement meant to be considered deeply, it was a simple fact. There were hardly any thirteen-year-olds looking your way, and even if there were, it wasn’t like your attention was focused on them either. All the boys in school were either too annoying or too stupid.

Except for Hajime. He was the only tolerable one. Oikawa fell into the “too annoying” category. But you still loved him—sometimes.

Yua and Mai share a glance, a fleeting look before they look back at you, “You’re joking, right?”

You look up from your food to meet their furrowed stares, “What?”

They share another glance, Mai answering Yua’s silent question with a shrug of her shoulders. You’re completely left in the dark. “Wait, what’s going on?”

“Okay, so what if,” Yua begins, the familiar teasing lilt that you’ve widely associated with the blonde returning, stressing on the ‘if’, “someone did like you. What would you do?”

They both look at you with waggling eyebrows, like they’ve cornered you into the exact hypothetical they want you to be in. While this isn’t necessarily an unfamiliar place to be in, it is a weird one, considering you and boys have never really been the topic of conversation unless Iwa and Oikawa were somehow brought up. But your friendship with them was well known and not exactly hidden at all. It wasn’t sensational, nor was it the topic of gossip. Neither was the fact that you aren’t exactly the kind of girl the boys of Kitagawa First were looking at if they were even looking at girls.

“But no one likes me like that.”

“Answer the question.”

You gesture in exasperation, “I don’t know! I’m not really into anyone like that, so I guess I’d say no?”

The two girls pause again, sharing another look.

“Okay, can you two stop that?”

Mai speaks up this time, almost disbelieving, “You really don’t like anyone?”

“Am I supposed to?”

Yua sings, “Not even Iwaizumiii?”

The chopsticks that you held deftly in your hands go limp and a straight shot of shock runs down your spine. Time stands still in this cramped cafeteria and it feels like your head has been dunked into a bucket of cold water, halting the train of thought and highlighting every possible exit in this building.

The red lights of panic have turned on in your brain and they’re screaming at you to run.

“I— I don’t— what are you guys talking about?”

Your two best friends, who now resemble Satan’s assistants more than anything remotely positive to you, share their third unspoken glance, and you’re about to lose it.

“So,” Yua starts again, tearing her sly eyes from Mai’s excited ones, “You do like him?”

Code red. Abandon ship. Abort. R-U-N.

“No! He— I— We’re just friends!”

“Oh my god!” Mai slams her hands on the surface of the table, her brown eyes boring into your widened ones as she leans over to invade your personal space and poke your chest.

“You like him!”

The brain that is usually so quick with an excuse, trained to be sharp-witted and smart from years of intense teasing from Tooru and Hajime, suddenly feels like mush in your head. Ooey, gooey mush that can’t come up with anything but stuttering, “N-No” at the idea of having some romantic inclination towards Hajime. The best friend you hang out with every weekend; The boy that always walks you home and always makes sure your comments are heard; The spiky-haired idiot with a sea of emerald in his eyes that you always seem to drown in.

But, that’s not— that doesn’t mean— No.

You don’t like Hajime like that. He’s just a really really good friend. That you enjoy spending time with. That makes you feel comfortable with just a single look. The friend that you always want around, regardless of the kind of day. Yeah. That’s it.

Hajime is just that kind of person.

Yua gives an unconvinced hum and taps her bright pink nails on the table surface, “When you think about another girl liking him, do you get jealous?”

Mai backs up from your face to give a wide smile at the blonde, pointing at her wickedly and almost shouting, “Ooh! Good question!”

“Thanks, I read it in my sister’s magazine.”

Mai turns back, almost touching your nose with hers, “Well? Do you?”

The “no” is on the tip of your tongue as an instinctual defense against this personal interrogation, but it doesn’t come out. Partly because of the mush of your brain but also because you know any denial of that question just simply isn’t true; Because when Saran followed Hajime around all day in grade six, you distinctly remember being in a foul mood for a while.

A mood that could only be fixed when Hajime indirectly affirmed that he did not like her.

Oh god.

You like Hajime.

You like his stupid face and his stupid laugh and the stupid way he teases you and the stupid way he makes you feel.

Your friends laugh in your face for a solid minute while you hang your head in your hands, certain that your life was completely over with the new revelation. Yua is the instigator, teasing you relentlessly over the silent confession while Mai asserts that this is the beginning of a fairytale.

She says it with such conviction that you’re almost inclined to believe her until reason kicks in, and the shamefulness of the situation kicks in. You push it down, fine with keeping the acknowledgment exactly where it is, right under your thumb. That is until Oikawa finds out about it and then suddenly, it’s no longer in your control.

You’re fourteen when he corners you after school. He’s walking you home, taking Hajime’s usual role when said boy and subject of your plight had to stay home with the sick.

You don’t think he’s going to bring it up, hardly aware he even knows about it, but he does making you choke on your spit and trip over a crack in the sidewalk. He clutches his stomach in a guffaw.

“Did you really think you could hide it from me?” Tooru teases, his finger poking at your heated cheek that you quickly swat away.

“I’m not hiding anything, Tooru,” you mutter, keeping your head turned downwards. If Oikawa even sees a smidgen of embarrassment he would never let you live it down.

“Oh, please. You’re so easy to read, especially when Iwa-chan is around. You’re all, ‘oh Iwa, you’re so smart and funny. I want to be with you forever. Mwah, mwah, mwah!’” His hands are interwoven beside his head and he attempts a poor, high-pitched imitation of your voice. Again, Oikawa Tooru belongs in the “too annoying” category that most eighth-grade boys find themselves in.

You lift your left leg, thrusting your shin outward to kick the taller boy in his behind, a move all too familiar. Really, Oikawa should have seen it coming, having had it done to him so often by Iwaizumi. He’s too swept up in the antics of teasing, though, that it surprises him and the pain in his bottom is sharp. His hands cover the stinging area.

“Ow, (Y/N)!”

“That’s what you get for being stupid.”

“See! You even act him like him!”

You raise your fist upward and he raises his hands in defense, cowering at the threat of more pain, “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

He lowers his hands, one eye closed and the other peeking from behind his lowering fingers, “Gosh, so violent. I’m only trying to help!”

“I don’t need help.” You grumble.

You continue your trek onward, desperate to put as much distance between yourself and this nightmare of a conversation. But it’s not that simple. There are now three people that have realized the truth of your crush in less than a year— all of which are your closest friends. It’s only a matter of time before the friend above them all realizes it too.

Worst off, only a matter of time before someone tells him.

You turn towards Tooru with a speed that has him flinching and thrusting his hands upward for protection again. A yelp echoes around the empty street and was it not for the intensity behind your desperation, you probably would have laughed.

“Tooru.” There’s a rasp in your voice, one that you aren’t exaggerating. It makes Oikawa uncomfortable hearing such a serious depth to your previously annoyed cadence. In his continuously growing height, he stares down at you, fear crumpling his face.

“Don’t say my name like that—”

“You cannot tell Hajime.”

He straightens his posture out, hand rubbing the back of his neck. A brow is raised quizzically, “Isn’t that the whole point of having a crush? So that you can eventually tell that person about it?”

It’s not like you expect him to understand, hell, you don’t even understand it yourself. All you know is that Hajime cannot know about it; There are too many factors, too many problems that can happen. Besides, you’re sure it’s just a tiny crush, one that will go away after a couple of months.

And even if it didn’t, you still wouldn’t be able to tell him. Because you’ve been best friends for four years now, and if there was anything remotely remarkable about you, you’re sure something would’ve happened already. Because Hajime is strong, decisive, and steady. If he wants something, he goes for it; And if he wanted you, in any capacity like the way you want him, he would’ve said something.

But he doesn’t because you’re his best friend. Nothing is outstanding about you, nothing that would make you more than just the girl he’s friends with. Nothing that would make you any different from “just one of the guys”.

He would never see you as anything but.

So, it’s just easier to have Hajime as a friend than to risk it all for a likely rejection. You could swallow the feelings, bury them deep inside of you for the rest of time. It would be significantly easier than never talking to him again because you couldn’t be a big girl and not make things awkward.

You try to tell Oikawa as much, “It’s— I just— It would be easier if he didn’t know. It’ll go away soon.”

The brunet tilts his head to the side, kind of like a pouty puppy. When he’s not being a teasing butthead, he’s rather gentle with you, considerate of your emotions, and above all, eager to understand.

“Do you want it to go away?”

“Like I said, it would just be easier.”

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

A quiet settles between the two of you and it feels like it’s oceans wide. You, stranded out at sea in the terrorizing waves of emotions, and he, the lighthouse built on the rocks. Tall and fixed, beckoning you towards his stable ground of reason. It’s a brief reminder that when Oikawa tries, he’s not that annoying. He’s rather kind and empathetic.

“Do you want Hajime to like you?”

The deep cocoa eyes dig into you and the waves crash even more ferociously around you.

Cotton dries up your mouth, and the ache that always pains your heart whenever you think about Hajime returns in full force, “He never will.”

Oikawa huffs out a breath, back becoming imperceptibly straighter while he crosses his arms. It’s hard to imagine him as anything but that sweaty boy you met on the playground, but he stands before you a giant, body filling out from all the volleyball practice and the baby features of his face evening out to become the handsome boy girls were starting to see him as. He radiates his kind of steadiness, one different from Hajime, but equally as comforting.

It’s admirable— he’s admirable— when it's not pinned against you.

“And how do you know?”

“Tooru,” you sigh, exhaustion suddenly creeping up your shoulders along with the overwhelming urge to cry, “Please.”

You don’t feel like explaining all the intricacies of your perceived inadequacy and thank the gods above he’s a good enough friend to know when to stop prying, “Fine, fine. I’ll leave it alone. For now.”

You stare up at him, searching his face for any notion of deceit or subterfuge, “You promise you won’t say anything?”

“Yeah, yeah,” He waves his hand in dismissal, rolling his eyes in that way that portrays annoyance but the love is there. He understands you, at least.

You hold out your pinky for him, ��Pinky promise?”

“What are we, ten?”

You hold your finger out further, almost waving it in his face. It’s the staple of trust in your friendship, instituted early on between you and him, and only you and him. He can’t back out now.

He takes it with a sigh of his own, huffing out his breath, and twisting his long, slender finger with yours. You shake his hand in affirmation, letting go only when you feel comfortable in the validity of his promise and resuming your walk home.

He throws an arm over your shoulder, squeezing you tightly to his body, “Eventually you’re going to have to say something.”

“I know.”

“I hope you know I’m never letting you live this down.”

“It’s like you want me to hit you again.”

Maybe he’s right. Maybe in the future, when you’re more comfortable with the fact that it’s your best friend of all people that gives you butterflies in your stomach, you’ll do something about it. But not right now, not when he spends all his time in volleyball and especially not when you were barely confident in yourself. Or maybe, it’ll go away, and you can look back on this as a funny memory rather than anything serious.

You’re fifteen when you finally accept the circumstances and become resigned to it. Finally understanding that your crush is more than just a crush, but knowing full well that that’s all you can let it be.

Hajime sits on the floor, surrounded by your regular friends plus a couple of others at Oikawa’s birthday party when he says it. You’re not supposed to hear it from your place in the kitchen, but you do and it’s a dagger to both heart and confidence. He’s confirmed everything you knew and quelled any potential rebuttal of thoughts Mai or Tooru have planted in your head.

You were stupid to think Hajime could ever see you as anything more than the girl he’s just friends with.

Your appetite quickly dissipates and you have to work extra hard to make sure pure despair doesn’t show on your face. Especially when Oikawa hears it too and he makes that face that looks like he wants to give you a hug, which makes everything ten times harder.

A kid named Matsukawa is the one that asks. You don’t blame him. He’s only fifteen, after all, asking what normal fifteen-year-olds normally talk about.

“What about (Y/N)? Would you date her?”

Hajime scoffs, a laugh on his lips as though it were the weirdest question he’s ever heard.

“She’s my best friend. That would be like dating my sister. I don’t like her like that.”

You’re fifteen and you’ve become resigned to it all, because it’s better to have Hajime as a friend, than to never have him at all. Because you would never have him; At least not in the way you want.

You don’t blame him for that either.

You cry about it later on, after the party is over and after you deny Hajime’s insistence to walk you home. He has a weird look on his face when you tell him you’ll be fine, your house is only a few blocks away. He wants to fight you on it, can see the argument forming it in that storm of green. It’s a shitty feeling to deny him so blatantly, but you really can’t stomach being around him at the moment. Not when your heart pangs longingly for him and your insecurities increase tenfold at the confirmation of your inadequacy.

Not when all of this is happening at once, showing as clear as day on your face, and he sees it. Worst of all, not when he wants to solve it, hardly understanding that he’s the cause of it.

His eyes narrow, staring intently as he studies your features. The scrutiny is uncomfortable and if he does stares a second longer the tears will fall.

“Did… something happen during the party?” Hajime asks hesitantly. There’s a whirlwind of possibilities crossing his mind, all indicating rather unsavory and horrifying ideas that have his worry bubbling beneath his skin. You’re barely meeting his gaze, hands clasped tightly before you and body way too stiff. The complete opposite of your normal demeanor, especially around him.

Usually so open, so vibrant. And here you stand before him, the dark of night surrounding you and the fluorescent glow of the streetlamps casting a ghoulish light on your face, exaggerating your dejected features more prominently.

He’s heard of worst-case scenarios when girls and boys get together, something mentioned in passing when his mother was on the phone with his aunt. He never really thought much about it, considering he would never do something like that and he doesn’t hang around many girls, to begin with for something like that to be an immediate concern..

In this stark contrast of a moment, however, he’s briefly reminded of the fact that he so often tends to forget. You’re a girl; A living, breathing, pretty girl. Everyone likes you, would be fools not to. And while he would never allow himself or anyone else to force themselves upon you, you weren’t with him for the whole party. Disappearing for a brief moment after he saw you enter the kitchen. The idea of something like that— something that horrible— happening to you under his nose has all of his instincts on fight mode, forget the flight. A shattering of the innocence he was so previously impervious to.

The implication is clear in his voice accompanied with the fear-stricken features, so you can hardly miss what he means.

“Did— Did anyone…?” His voice cracks and he hurriedly tries to clear it up with the clearing of his throat, but you heard it. It happens often when he’s wrestling with an onslaught of emotions, trying his hardest to remain calm and clear-headed and focused that sometimes his voice just gives out. Also, puberty.

The act doesn’t matter though, not when he’s silently amping himself up to fight someone if you were touched inappropriately. He would win; He’s been in a couple of fights before, usually off school property, he doesn’t mind getting into another one. Not if it was for you. And he would win; Would make sure of that.

The tussle for calm is transparent on his face. Lips struggling to stay in a closed, neutral line rather than the frown he has to hold back. His fists clench, blunt nails digging into the skin of his palms to alleviate the growing anger, only to prove futile. He so badly wants to grab you by the shoulders, shake you furiously, ask what the hell is going on because you’re never like this—

He doesn’t. He knows better. Even if the suspense is driving him up the wall and the tension that encapsulates the empty street is thick and choking him.

Finally, you say something.

“No, Haji,” you say softly, “No one did anything to me.”

It’s what Iwaizumi wants to hear; Should be ecstatic to know that you are physically unharmed, free from the taint that comes with a foreign touch, the one he’s intent to protect you from. Your voice is too quiet though, and the smile you give him is too small for him to feel any modicum of ease. You're lying. Someone did something.

“I’m fine, really!” You try again, amping up the energy to convince him. It falls flat.

“(Y/N).” That spiky head of hair tips forward, pushing himself in your averting line of sight, refusing to let you hide from him. He’s taller now, finally taller than you. While his hair is still that fluff of mess on his head, his eyes are still that piercing green that can always read you like a book and his favorite season is still summer, only this time he no longer enjoys going to the park, but instead the beach.

He’s the same Hajime you fell in love with and the remainder is enough to cause a lump swell in your throat.

“What are you hidi—”

“Iwa-chan!”

The familiar melodious voice rings out in the empty street, its owner sauntering his way over to your departing figures. There’s that recognizable air of flowering confidence rolling off of him like a humid heat and the sly shining of his pearly whites that serves as a buffer from the thick air of tension between you and Haj— Iwaizumi.

Just, Iwaizumi. No added affection.

There's magic in Oikawa’s stroll, you’re sure of it. It looks perfectly coincidental, like he just so happened to stumble upon a tense scene, instead of the very much needed and purposeful intervention for his emotionally crushed best friend and worry-fueled other best friend.

And they call him the idiot.

He sighs that flowery breath of his, throwing his arm around Iwa’s shoulders and watching the desperation that filled your gaze wash away with relief at his intrusion. Iwa’s confusion only seems to increase, but truthfully, Oikawa isn’t too concerned with his hard-headed friend. He’s really only keen on getting you out of there— out to safety and away from the source of your heartbreak.

“Iwa-chan, you have to go set up the movie player. I have no idea how to work it.”

“I’ve shown you how to do it four times, Tooru.”

“But it’s so much easier when you do it. Don’t worry, I’ll walk our precious flower home while you set up for our sleepover.”

Iwaizumi hesitates, his eyes bouncing from the self-assured smile of Oikawa to your downturned gaze. There’s something wrong, he knows it. But it’s obviously a secret he isn’t allowed into.

He won’t pry, he’s never been one to beg for secrets— never been one to want secrets told to him at all. However, there’s a particular sting at knowing that it’s you who’s hiding something and refusing to tell him. That there’s something Oikawa is aware about, that he isn’t allowed to know.

It’s not his business, he surmises. You’re not his business. He swallows that bitter pill, accepting Oikawa’s offer with a brief nod. He’s not happy, that’s plain to see, but he knows better than to insert himself where he’s not wanted.

Calm, steady, comfortable. Iwaizumi will fight for what he wants, but not when it hurts you in the process.

He bids you a brief goodbye, voice tight and rigid, clearly displaying his dissatisfaction but accepting it nonetheless. He doesn’t even look back at you. It’s what you want, you suppose. Some distance from him for your benefit, so you can at least try and forget about how you feel; Save yourself from the devastation of falling even deeper in love with him.

He enters Oikawa’s house. It’s a place you’ve been many times, slept over on many occasions yet, when Iwaizumi crosses the threshold with a strain on his shoulders and a grimace on his face, you can’t help but wonder if he’s finally going someplace that you can’t follow. If you’ve spent all these years pining over him, wondering if you would ever be enough for him, only to push him away into an area of no return.

Oikawa doesn’t give you a moment to think long about it before he’s ushering you away from the crime scene where your uncontrollable and childish feelings have brutally injured a fraying friendship and guiding you home. He talks the entire time, about everything and nothing, and you’re rather grateful for the background noise. To finally think about something other than your broken heart and Iwaizumi’s betrayed face.

He leaves you at your door with the promise that things will get better, that it won’t hurt so much, and that he’s always there for you. He places a sweet kiss on the crown of your head, turning his back with a final wave and leaving you alone with your thoughts. The promise of meeting one another again is unspoken, instinctive. You know deep down, though, it’ll be different from here on out. You’ll have to be more careful, more guarded with the things you say and do.

You wonder if Iwaizumi has as much trouble sleeping that night as you do.

(He does. He doesn’t sleep at all.)

Things do get better, which is a blessed curse. The tension eventually resolves after a couple of weeks of tiptoeing around each other. Normality returns in full-swing and you’re able to talk to Hajime without the overwhelming feeling of guilt and need to explain everything; If he holds any issues about what happened that night, he doesn’t mention it, following your lead and letting the friendship return to normal.

The problem lies in the fact that Oikawa was ultimately right, and he makes a point to show that he’s right. That things did get better, and the fragmentation of your splintering relationship with the boy you love eventually gets patched up.

Life moves on.

The feelings don’t go away, but you get better at managing them. It’s significantly easier to push the pining down and not think too much about any passing romantic comments in school that pair you and Iwaizumi together; Nor do you think twice about the harmless flirting that occasionally comes your way. You dish it back, continuing the joking nature of the friendship and after a while, it doesn’t hurt so bad. You exit the stages of puberty and things don’t feel as hectic as they once were.

The turbulent waves of emotions finally die down to a steady roll, and for a while, you’re able to float. It’s safe, peaceful, exactly how you want it to stay.

That is until you’re seventeen, almost eighteen, and Iwaizumi asks you to be his fake girlfriend. The waves pick up steam and you’re drowning again. You have the girls of Aoba Johsai to thank for that.

This time though, you’re determined to protect yourself. The anxiety of it all starts to settle in between your shoulders and instead of falling victim to the whims of an unsuspecting Iwaizumi once again, the urge to protect yourself and your pathetic emotions takes precedence. You will not be reduced down to the unconfident, love-sick girl you once were; You’ve worked too hard to do that. You matter more than Iwaizumi’s stupid girl problem.

It’s why you don’t think twice when you blurt it out after agreeing to help.

“We need a contract.”

“A contract?” Hajime parrots back, broad arms crossed over his equally broad chest and the intense training you’ve instilled in yourself to not stare at him meets its limitations, lest you stoop down to the level of the girls he’s so desperate to evade. He’s grown so much, physically and personally, that it's hard to not look at him. You force yourself to glance around the crowded cafe, look anywhere but his veiny arms, and instead replace your view with the small restaurant you two frequent every Monday— the only day he has off from volleyball practice.

It’s a small establishment that sells teas and noodles, a pleasant find to make one day when the both of you were hungry pre-teens and full of time on your hands. It’s usually rather empty during this time as it’s just out of the line of sight to avoid the after-school rush of students, but today the line extends outside of the door, all attendees eager to have a taste of miso ramen and pushing against bodies to do so. The people behind you are respectful enough to give you as much space as one can afford in the cramped venue, but you end up still having to press yourself into the stiff body of the boy— no, man— beside you.

You have the decency to look at least a little uncomfortable in the tightness of the situation, but Hajime shows nothing. Whether it’s because he doesn’t even care that your chest is bracing against his arm or he’s too distracted with the complicatedness of his “girl” problem, his face betrays no embarrassment at the closeness. No frustration, no discomfort, not even annoyance. He merely exists, dealing with your body pressed against his as if this were a regular occurrence and not an awkward preemption to the farce that you’ve stupidly agreed to. This would surely haunt you for the rest of your years.

This man of steel, this monolith of lean, corded muscle, was going to be your “boyfriend” for the next couple of weeks. You would be lucky if this arrangement even lasted for that long considering the confession of pure unadulterated adoration is crawling up the canal of your throat and tearing the fabric of your skin, sticking a middle finger at the rational parts of your brain trying desperately to hold it back.

Your fate is signed, knowing full and well that in your inability to deny Hajime— especially when he’s so desperate, which is a rarity in and of itself— you’ve willingly agreed to have your dignity and confidence stripped from your person and your feelings thrown in a loop for the sake of his sanity.

It’s annoying. Every potential hypothetical plays itself in high definition across the theatre of your mind and each one ends with you being brutally rejected once again. There’s no way you could handle something like that again, no matter how much you’ve matured.

This is a bad idea, and you need to tell him that.

But then the sight of pleading jades enters your vision and you distinctly remember the permanent frown that etched itself on Hajime’s face these past three months. Remember how the feelings of deep discomfort forced him to confide in you on a late-night phone call when sleep evaded him and he detailed the dread he felt at the prospect of going to school the next school day.

If your mouth even opened a fraction to breathe, you’re sure the “I’m in love with you and have been since sixth grade” will come tumbling out, but even the fear of that happening doesn’t overpower the overwhelming desire to help the man you’re madly in love with.

There’s a limit to what would be forsaken in the name of Iwaizumi Hajime’s happiness, but your sanity isn’t it.

The situation worsens when the subtle shifting of the patrons behind you throws you off balance and forces you impossibly closer to him. The shuffling of feet knocks into your own, tilting you off balance despite your leaning against Hajime. A rebuttal is on the tip of your tongue ready to be released in rapid-fire when Hajime beats you to it.

He quickly wraps his arm around your waist, allowing your unsteady feet to find balance against his lean body of stone, clutching you tightly to his side as if the accidental push against you were a personal offense.

The protective nature that so often lies dormant in his personality rears its head forward and you swear your heart stops beating altogether.

“Easy,” he mutters, a layer of strict dismay interweaving in his words as he casts a pointed side glare at the two boys standing behind you. You hardly hear it, much too occupied with trying not to drown in the sudden flooding of his cologne in your nostrils.

Musk and spice. His usual scent, but even more addicting when it’s this close.

This is a bad idea. This is a horrible, bad, awful idea. Bad, bad, bad idea.

You have to end this. You won’t survive this.

“C-contract.” You, somehow, manage to spit out, shaking your head free from the waft of his scent and the strength of his arm across your back.

Okay, not necessarily ending this but protecting yourself. Yeah, that’s it. Because there is no way you want him to keep acting like this, no. You’re just doing this to help and totally not to selfishly indulge in the delight of being his, even if it is fake.

He tears his narrowed eyes away from the boys behind you to glance at you, the remnants of disapproval flickering in the sea of green that you swear only evens out when he looks at you, “Right. What’s in this contract?”

“The, uh, basics,” you begin, voice slowly finding its footing after the intense whiplash you just experienced. You're surprised you can even form words that aren’t resembling proclamations of desire, “What we can and can’t do, how long this is for, and so on.”

“That’s a good idea,” He breathes out. The line shifts forward, and the cashier finally enters the field of view. With a quick recoil, as though his skin were burned by the action, he removes his hand from around your waist. The warmth of his arm rescinds with it, and that thirteen-year-old girl that has fantasized for years about this, whines in desperation. You quickly tell her to shut up.

He clears his throat, awkwardness filling the cramped and stale air, “Uh, sorry. About that.”

He avoids your eyes and you quickly look around too, “It’s fine.”

A silence ensues. It’s not uncomfortable, per se, but it’s a far cry from the brief pauses in conversation that usually occur between the two of you. The comfortable silences that occur naturally between friends of five years. You wonder if you should address it, address the fact that if you two were to pull this off— and pull it off well— there were going to be more moments when he was going to have to touch you like that.

He was going to have to hold your hand and give you frequent hugs and actually act like he was in love with you. Act.

You swallow at the prospect. Not like that would be hard for you to do, you think rather pitifully.

There are two more couples in front of you when you say, “I’d like to institute the first provision.”

Hajime quirks an eyebrow, his lips lifting upward, an obvious sign of gratefulness at being able to brush over that weird moment of physicality. He doesn’t know why it was instinctual, or why he even thought that placing his hand that low around your waist would be a good idea. But, he did it; And it’s quite the revelation when he realizes he didn’t mind it.

At all.

“Oh yeah? And what’s that?” He glances at you to his right, the teasing smile gracing your features and the recognizable glint of mischief in your eyes.

“You have to buy all of the food we eat together.”

He scoffs out a laugh, shaking his head, “I already buy all of our food.”

“I always pay you back!”

“You owe me at least three-thousand yen.”

“Okay, an addendum to provision one.”

“Shoot.”

“You buy all of our food and forgive my debts.”

He laughs louder tilting his head back as his teeth peek from his pink lips. It’s the bark of laughter that swells your beating heart with confidence. You may not have him romantically, but there’s no denial of the fact that he likes you in his life, especially when you can make him laugh like that, “I’m starting to think this contract is only beneficial to you.”

It’s your turn to raise an eyebrow at him, the body still tucked tightly beside his as feet shuffle forward in the line, “In case you’ve forgotten, I’m doing you a huge favor.”

“Trust me, I haven’t forgotten.” A silence befalls again, this one not as tense as before. A small smile plays on his lips and there’s a sincerity behind his gaze that reminds you of how appreciative he really is for this. Hajime isn’t sure he’ll ever be able to repay you for stepping in and helping him in the most intimate of ways that you most likely would rather not do. There wasn’t ever an expressed interest in the dating scene from you, always denying the occasional confession that came your way and never thinking twice about the romantic holidays that come and go.

He wonders why because if you tried, you’d have every guy within a ten-foot radius begging for your attention. Surely one of them would be worthy of your love. (He doesn’t agree though. There’s no one in this world who could ever be worthy of you. Not when you smile so brightly and tease so enticingly. No one would ever deserve that part of you. No one that he would ever approve of, anyway..) He’s not dumb in realizing that your willingness to engage in a romantic relationship with him— even if it is a fake one— is a large deviation from the norm. It’s not something to be taken lightly.

So, he owes you. Big time. Whatever you want, whatever you put in this contract, he’ll do. He’ll be the best boyfriend you’ve ever had.

(Fake boyfriend, he has to remind himself. He swallows down the disappointment.)

“Thank you.” he breaks the silence, rubbing the back of his heating neck, “Again. For doing this for me. I don’t—”

“Ah, ah!” You interrupt, holding your hand upwards and wagging a finger at him, “I haven’t done anything yet, so don’t start thanking me so soon. Who knows? I might sabotage this whole thing, be the worst girlfriend you could ever imagine.”

The couple in front of you finishes their order, stepping to the side to allow the both of you forward. You step up, dragging him with you but you don’t miss the low throaty chuckle he emits when he says, “You like me too much to do that.”

He pats the top of your head, smoothing the fly-away hairs with a wink and a sly smile, and then, like nothing even happened, he steps up to the counter, taking the initiative and placing your usual orders. There’s both too much nuance and not enough to his statement to determine if you should be scared at his words. Does he know? Did Oikawa tell him?

You don’t even notice when he puts both food items on one bill.

It’s then that you remember, with little humor like someone who’s forgotten a necessary step to an important project, that while you’ve done a lot of growing and building these past four years to fortify the walls of your heart, so has he. He’s stronger, more confident, more sturdy.

Fourteen-year-old you built the walls for a fourteen-year-old Iwaizume Hajime. She didn’t even think to consider the damage eighteen-year-old Ace and Vice-Captain of the Seijoh Volleyball Team could do. Not with a spike those strong arms could make and a sea of green that you still drown in.

The first large crack in the barriers has been made.

He turns to face you upon finishing the order, stepping to the side and bracing his body against the far wall of the restaurant to allow the next customers to the counter. That damn sly smile is still on his face, and it’s then you realize that he has to know. He has to know what he’s doing, or at least know that it’s doing something to you.

“So,” he tucks his hands into the pockets of his uniform pants, biceps bulging at the action “tell me about this contract, sweet girlfriend of mine.”

end notes: god damn glad that’s over. what did yall think?? too much? not enough? lemme know! i love reading all of your tags and comments, it fills me with such happiness :))))

tag list: @bruh-kill-me @owlnymph @airybnb @yukiilu-personal @cathwritestragediesnotsins @berna-dette

#haikyuu iwazumi #iwaizumi x reader #iwaizumi hajime x reader #iwaizumi x you #iwaizumi hajime x you #my writing #haikyuu!!#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x you

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myunknownsource · 5 years

Text

Parental Alienation

Hello,

I am sure you're curious what this would bring you to. And I would love to get right to the point. TLDR at the bottom.

Ronee (candle-jacked) told you all a bunch of lies. The first one being that her ex had abandoned them in October. We had their son for Christmas 2 months after he supposedly abandoned them. We didn't even start dating until December.. And then she told you that he called her on new years eve to tell her they needed to break up even though they had been broken up for many many months at this point. Trust me he was extremely occupied new years eve. The only reason I can think she thought they were together was because at some point before we started dating his roomates girlfriend at the time was thinking about leaving and getting her own place and he wanted to see if Ronee would be open to the idea of him, her, their son, and his other roommate in getting a place. He only wanted to do that so it was easier for him to see his son. He ultimately changed his mind when he was skeptical of her getting a job and pulling her weight evenly, which had never really happened well in the past, the only time it did money was held over his head while he watched and took care of their son. Justin and I started dating at the beginning of December after dating for 2-3 weeks in November. We hit it off extremely well and seeing that we have been together for 4 years says a lot. I’m sure you all know and support someone who started their relationship extremely quickly and if you're ok with that it would be very hypocritical of you not to be ok with this. Which is exactly why I didn't quite understand why Ronee herself freaked out when her entire relationship with justin not only started while she still had a boyfriend but it became a sexual relationship before they were ever bf and gf. Not that I would ever care or judge something like that. I think the next lie we can talk about would be the “paramour”a lover, especially the illicit partner of a married person” shit. Justin and Ronee weren't married, they were not engaged, they weren't even dating. Its just yet another spiteful name she felt the need to call me, alongside bashing my sexual history (which seems pretty anti feminist to me) as well as telling people I sold my body for money (i wouldn't have even been 18 so lets thank god thats not true) and that i frequently fist fought my mother and my brother, also not true you can literally ask them lol. I have an amazing relationship with my mother who i was actually just visiting in AL where they moved and my brother who just got back from fighting for your freedom just left my house like 2 hours ago. SO yeah.

Another lie she told me herself when she was trying to get me to turn on Justin was that they were engaged when we started dating. Did she tell you guys about that or just me? Apparently because she didn't like traditional rings she didn't have one to prove it to me because he was designing one specifically for her.. Im sorry guys and no offence to justin but he doesn't care about stuff like that, its weird for him and I have come to accept that. Now on the other hand if she had told me that he asked her to design it I would have maybe believe her because thats more his style. She also told you guys his own family disowned him, that isnt even close to true. She even tried to say it was because I assaulted his sister? Whos was a minor at the time and still is now. SOO lets poke some holes in this story shall we? Justins mother and I are arguing about who knows what, I really cant remember and her daughter is behind her on the stairs (im in the basement with justin) the argument is getting heated and Donna (justins mother) decides to come about 15ft forward until there's about 3ft between us. (his sister is still on the stairs) but apparently mid argument I freak out and punch his sister? Whos 20ft away from me, past his mother? Maybe Ronee can clear that up for us. On top of that if I assaulted a minor that would have been an easy instant phone call to the police and I would have a very easy to find record in Missouri. Yet I dont. Because that didn't happen. Also why did we move back in with Donna when we had to abruptly move to missouri per instructions from our GAL (mareks lawyer from the courts) because otherwise Ronee would get the visitation she wanted which was supervised (though she had no evidence to be granted that) for 4 hours a few times a month. Despite the fact that we lived 4 hours away. Anyways, where were we? Ahh yes. Donna welcomed us into her home because at the time we were her chance at seeing their son (her grandson). I got a semi sincere apology from her for punching me in the face that night and we moved on from it, becasue im a good person. Ronee still says his family hates him but lets do a headcount. Justin, his brother, his mother and his sister, also 2 cousins. WHo doesnt like Donna? Justin, his brother, and his 2 cousins because they all also know what their parents told them about their shitty aunt. Even Ronee herself said she was a shitty mother and that Diane was there for justin more than his mom.

Now its time for court. Ronees lawyer approached us. We found out that had we not shown up the judge would have granted what Ronee wanted (the 4 hours supervised a few times a month) which is funny because when justin called Diane (Ronees mother) she boasted how she wouldn't let Ronee take Marek away if justin couldn't make it and wouldn't let Ronee do the supervised visits because she knew he was a good dad. BULLSHIT lol. He also specifically asked us to not talk to her about what we wanted in the visitation plan because when we did she would call him crying about how she didnt want Justin apart of anything…. HE TOLD US HE DIDNT WANT TO DEAL WITH HER BS TOO! Eventually we hired a cheap lawyer who we were told wasn't the best but at this point her lawyer won't communicate with Justin even though he was representing himself and we needed someone who could file these documents when we couldn't. We had to explain to the GAL that justin hadn't seen his son in over a year and we had to show him the texts we had from a prepaid phone to Ronee where she REFUSED to let Justin talk to his son for unknown reason (jk we all know why) and he ordered that we get him that day and would start an every other weekend schedule until things got worked out with the courts. She sent her mother to bring hsia son that day and this woman has the audacity to tell Justin that this all could have been avoided.

But I think one of the most important pieces of information I can give you is that Justin has tried to pay her support for the last 9mo-12mo after he had to quite the job where his money was being garnished. We have the venmo receipts after it took her 5 months to finally agree to accept payment from, then he was laid off for 3 months per his work contract which we also have on file and he sent her about ⅓ of what he was ordered to pay (he had no job and he sent her most of the spending money he got that I budgeted for each of us from my paychecks) about half way through his lay off he asked her something about how he thought it would be a good idea if she reported the CS payments every 6 months to the CS office. It would have been free but she was the only one who could do it. It wasn't even a demand but a suggestion that could have been talked about, we legitimately thought we had finally rounded a curve and we all could start co parenting together, but apparently he wasn't aloud to give her suggestions because she blocked him on venmo, went off on him on talking parents (the app she forced him into using despite the fact that shes in contempt of court for doing that) and specifically told him she would never report the money. We also have snips of that convo if you guys want it. Justin hasnt talked to his son in about 6 months. The few times he “has” it doesnt sound like a 9 yo and its demeaning things that Ronee herself has said in the past. About a month ago he got a call from Marek and was actually getting somewhere after he started to explain things to him. He even told his son about how in June he was parked in front of his house to get him for his 2 week summer vacation and Ronee hadnt let him get him and his son told him in a very said voice that he never knew that. Then the line went dead. Ronee texted from his sons phone saying this isn't the time to talk about that and hes been blocked ever since.

TLDR; Ronee Halsey (candle-jacked) is abusing her power as a co parent with my fiance and abusing their child through parental abuse.

P.S. I know I will receive backlash from her closest friends who think they know the story and thats ok because I cant sit here for one more minute while she gets away with this(I will block you though). I would be more than happy to supply everyone with any and all evidence I have.

P.P.S OMG I almost forgot the worst part. Ronee decided one day she was going to accuse Justin of abusing their son. I knew it was going to end up happening (i grew up with a dad who had a high conflict ex wife) so every single time we picked up and dropped off their son i would discretely ask him to pose for pictures either by himself or with me or his dad. Not even Justin knew I was doing this but thank the lord I did. Because Ronee Halsey crossed that line you should never cross and accused someone of actual physical child abuse. But because shes a mother in the state of MO nothing came of it. Despite the pictures I sent to her lawyer and the GAL he supposedly met with their son and he came to the conclusion that he did infact have a black eye and busted lip but he got it while wrestling his dad. DESPITE THE FACT THAT MY PICTURES OF HIM WITHIN MINUTES OF GETTING IN AND OUT OF M Y CAR FOR THAT WEEKEND SHOWED HE DIDNT HAVE A SINGLE MARK ON HIM. The saddest part is that when I recorded the conversation Justin had with Marek the next weekend he told Justin that he never saw or felt pain from them, he said his mother told him they weren't the kind he could see. I will gladly send snips from those emails to you guys.

@chewybitart @notlemha @karygurl @sushichan24 @eagleoverlord @thementalwayfarer @angelsdoexist @saltwaterhermit @candle-jacked

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lala-baby · 4 years

Text

just to keep track of this

verbal

insulting things she knew I liked or was insecure about as a “joke”, especially my body

constantly insulting my intelligence and saying that she’s never met anyone as stupid as me, including saying that nobody else did things I did (e.g choking on spit occasionally)

speaking to me in a demeaning way (“go be a good little bitch and do X” “you can give me £xx for that since you’re using it” “know your place, bitch”)

Angrily criticizing me for things that weren’t my fault (and in a lot of cases were actually her fault)

telling me she doesn’t want control of me despite her actions completely contradicting that

calling me a nympho if i showed any kind of sexual interest, and occasionally telling other people that i was to try to embarrass me (like veda/stacey)

yelling at me for petty things like if I got water on the worktop after washing up

calling me a man or saying I was manly to me/others, or referring to me as a troll or a hog

saying i was too sensitive if i said i didnt like her shouting at me/calling me names etc and she was just being “brutally honest” because i wouldnt listen to her otherwise

calling me a narcissist

calling me arrogant if i didnt listen/disagreed with her

saying i had selective hearing when i genuinely didnt hear her say something (she may not even have said it and just been fucking with me)

bringing up ancient grievances at every opportunity (e.g when i gently tried to suggest that she might be a hypochondriac because its not normal to constantly want to go to the hospital)

making threats about hitting me if i did something she didnt like

shouting at me for crying if she’d upset me

deliberately saying nonsensical shit to win arguments since it cant be argued with (word salad)

having to win at absolutely everything and generally being adversarial

telling me that i can do things/that she wont stop me but then getting jealous and angry making it too difficult to continue

calling me arrogant and saying i was deliberately ignoring her if i didnt hear her because i was concentrating on something on my phone, usually followed by threatening to smash it

Telling me I was a cunt

Being deliberately transphobic to try and upset me

Saying my haircut made me look like I had downes syndrome

physical

hitting me for fun and then telling me it didn’t hurt and I was a pussy, even if bruises formed afterwards and were pointed out to her (she just continued to deny doing it or laughed at me)

holding me down and forcing medication into my mouth, giving me a panic attack so severe she thought i was having an anaphalactic reaction and called 999

Forcing me to drink herbal cough medicine that tasted vile because she said it was the only one that worked for me, even when I didn't really have a cough

using her security training to restrain me for no good reason other than to demonstrate her strength, while telling me I was weak

not allowing me to, or making it too difficult for me to make my own food choices leading to me putting on a huge amount of weight

controlling my medication/using it as an excuse to gaslight me (“these meds are making you act like a cunt, im taking you to get them changed” if I said no or disagreed with her, dictating when i took them/what dose i took, telling me certain medications wouldnt work for me because they didnt work for her and that the prescriber didnt know what they were talking about)

picking her stank-ass belly button and holding me down and forcing her fingers up my nose (what the fuck)

biting me hard enough to leave marks

controlling when i was allowed to sleep and getting angry and calling me lazy if i was tired, but also often waking me up throughout the night insisting that i was snoring and had to turn over /go sleep on the couch

forcing me to sleep under a duvet even though i sleep badly with them and making a big fuss if i refused

“jokingly” burning me with a lighter (though not inflicting actual burns)

Sitting on me to the point of restricting my airways

Pulling my hair

sexual

holding me down and sucking/biting my neck painfully hard even when I was yelling at her to get off of me and had warned her beforehand not to do that because i hated it and it hurt me (and insisting that it wasn’t hurting me, then mocking me/being angry afterwards)

deliberately giving me love bites against my will in places i couldn’t hide them, especially if i was due to see my family to try to embarrass me

telling me that it was my own fault for not being relaxed enough if I wanted to stop penetration because it was hurting and continuing despite my discomfort; getting angry/frustrated if I continued to say no/still didnt enjoy it to the point where i had to wait until I couldn't take it any more to get her to stop

saying that the reason I couldn’t orgasm from sex with her was because I masturbated too much and “banning” me from it for months at a time, then accusing me of not following orders and lying to her if i still couldnt orgasm

putting me on a “sex ban” if I didn’t do what she wanted in day to day life

saying inappropriate things to others, including my parents, alluding to our sex life

having inappropriate conversations about my body with the elderly man we were caring for in front of me, despite knowing that he had sexually assaulted me in the past

angrily insisting that she knew what she was doing and I didn’t have to tell her if I tried to communicate about how things felt

insisting that she had brought me to orgasm when she hadn’t, and that she knew because she could “taste the difference” and I must just not have felt it because my body didn’t work right, to the point that I believed her and thought there was just something wrong with me

insisting that “all /none of the other girls I’ve been with were like that” to try and guilt me about things I had no control over (genital appearance etc)

financial

making me spend the weekends (friday to monday) with her but complaining that I used all her electric/water/etc. when challenged about how much it was actually costing she said i didn’t know anything about how much things cost because “mummy and daddy had always paid everything for me”, and wouldn’t stop being nasty/aggressive until I gave in

making me buy her food shopping with my savings /using my savings as a free resource to be dipped in to at any time when she had spent her own money

making me buy her things or contribute towards buying things for her flat (hundreds regularly) through guilt /empty promises of repayment/getting me stuff when i moved out

telling me that I only give a shit about money and that I’m obsessed with it if I tried to say no to any financial demands

pressuring me to pay for holidays for us on the understanding that she would provide the spending money, but using her benefits payment instead of saving up for it so I ended up having to give her more money after the holiday so she could still eat/pay bills

not bothering to pay her bills/debts, knowing that it would worry me and that i would end up paying them off for her

buying me presents I didn’t want or need as a way to control me (either through guilt or just buying me things like tracksuits that she knew i didnt want to wear but would feel obligated to because she wanted to control how i dressed), but then getting the money off of me for them to pay for her bills etc as she had run out

becoming angry if I tried to donate anything she had bought for me, including things like children’s toys that she insisted I needed for my “autism”

pressuring me to buy ostentatious gifts (e.g nintendo switch, televisions) for her niece and nephew, usually in the range of hundred of pounds, and then taking credit for it as if she had spent her own money (her justification for this was that she had already spent all of her own money on presents /food /etc for me)

refusing to save/claiming she couldnt save and was “happy as long as she had a fiver in her pocket” because money didnt matter to her, to the point that she had no savings and my family and i had to help her buy furniture etc for her flat

psychological/emotional

being nasty about aspects of my appearance until I gave in and changed it (e.g piercings, hair)

pretending that she had no control over her temper, to the point that she claimed to have “blackouts” of rage where she would come round having seriously injured someone but have no memory of it

telling me it was creepy that I kept my pets ashes and threatening to get rid of them/saying i wasnt bringing them with me when i moved in with her

accusing me off loving my pets more than I loved her, despite causing me to be unable to bond with them properly due to the constant stress I was under

telling other people embarrassing /personal things about me that she found funny, usually in front of me, to try and embarrass me

smugly telling me “I know you better than you know yourself” at every opportunity and generally eroding my sense of self

belittling my likes /interests and replacing them with what she wanted me to like /be interested in - everything from clothes to food to shower gel to music to who I was friends with

trying to convince me to use sperm donated from a fucking facebook page like some kind of insane person

planning to use me to have a child and then send me off to work so she could stay at home on her arse for the rest of her life but framing it as “you can go have a career and ill take care of the baby :)”

accusing me of cheating on her constantly with anyone she perceived as a threat to my obedience (e.g regan, sophie), despite her being the one constantly texting her exes (which i never had a problem with because i trusted her for some goddamn reason)

not allowing me to make friends with anyone she didn’t like and lying to me about them/their motivations to turn me off of them (she claimed to be a good judge of character) - again, regan and sophie

lying constantly in general but making it so that disagreeing with her or calling bullshit would make my life hell and it would get brought up weeks or months down the line

constantly telling me my breath stank (nobody else has ever said that and my dentist literally said my teeth are perfect last time i went), claiming it was because i only drank water and that wouldnt hydrate me (????) and constantly forcing me to drink tea or lucozade (neither of which i would drink given the choice) in large quantities

constantly talking about her work history and forensic history with a sense of pride(assault with intent, gbh, abh, criminal damage, etc etc) and about how badly she’d hurt people in the past, I think to leave me in no doubt as to her capabilities

warping my perception of reality by aggressively denying that things had/hadn’t happened, to the point that I didn’t know what was real and became dependent on her to tell me

using love as a means of control (“you’re meant to love me, I’m your girlfriend” if I tried to assert boundaries/did anything she perceived as insubordinate etc)

bagging up any belongings (except the stuff she wanted to keep for herself) I had at her flat and saying we were over and to come get my shit if I wasn’t obeying her enough

getting suspicious/irritated if I tried to take a bath or use the toilet with the door closed

constantly accusing me of hiding things from her

forcing me to strip naked to allow her to check my body for evidence of self harm

making me use her dirty bath water if I needed one, to “save water” (despite already taking money from me for the water bill)

trying to make me suspicious of the mental health professionals in charge of my care and make them seem untrustworthy or that their opinion was worthless (e.g saying they were wrong about my Dx, therapy won’t work for me, “you don’t have to do every little thing your care coordinator tell you to do it’s just SUGGESTIONS, they’re just trying to control you” etc)

insisting on coming to all my appointments with me so i didnt get to speak to anyone on my own

trying to control my family relationships, e.g making me phone my parents but ensuring that she was there to witness whatever was said, to the point that my family were afraid to voice their concerns about the relationship in case i cut contact with them

constantly posting cringey “romantic” bullshit on Facebook, including buying flowers etc for the sole purpose of showing off what a great girlfriend she was, and becoming angry if I didn’t respond in exactly the right way (not enough kisses etc) for “making her look a cunt ”

getting her niece and nephew to call me auntie lauren and constantly referring to me as her wife from only a few months into the relationship so that i would feel more committed than i was and less able to leave

blaming me and getting angry if the flowers she bought me died too early

getting angry if I didn’t sleep with the multitude of teddies she’d brought me/have them on display at all times and angrily demanding to know why she had wasted her money

constantly telling me that I was doing the things she had to me to do like an idiot, e. g hanging up washing, and taking it down and redoing it in a way that was not discernibly different

always threatening to break up with me if I didn’t toe the line, saying there was no point in us being together and that she didnt need me and wouldnt miss me, and that shed finally have less stress and a tidy flat

saying i was hard work and belittling my intelligence if i asked her how she wanted me to do one of the really specific chores she would make me do

badly neglecting her fish by not performing water changes or removing dead fish to the point that they would literally all die before going out and getting a load more, but not letting me care for them instead despite me pleading her and buying things to make it easier for her to do (e.g an expensive water testing kit that would have lasted her years); getting angry at me if i went behind her back to try to care for them by waking up early to do a water change etc and accusing me of being a smartarse for thinking i knew more about fish than she did when i literally studied animal management at college and actually did know more than her

using me like a slave to clean up her flat/do her washing up/take her mountains of rubbish out by angrily telling me that I had made the mess the previous weekend so she had left it waiting for me (this eventually lead to her having nearly 30 bags of months old rain soaked waste on her balcony one winter that she made me take down myself because “the rubbish is YOUR job and it’s your rubbish too, Ive only ever asked you to do one thing for me and you’re so lazy you won’t even do that blah blah blah”)

telling me to do important things “later” in a way that was framed as her being nice but was actually just more convenient for her /she knew would result in the thing not getting done because she didnt want me doing it

repeatedly breaking my toilet in Nelson House by insisting on flushing her tampons down sand saying that thats what you’re supposed to do, to the point that the toilet was eventually removed, then telling everyone I broke it by having a big shit. as sharing toilets was a mental health difficulty for me I had to suffer for months before being able to move rooms because of this

washing one of my outfits in with her own washing, acting all nice and then later saying that because she had done that for me I had to do a mountain of housework for her

making me go to a&e with her constantly (multiple times a week sometimes) and getting very angry at me if I tried to point out that she didn’t need to go; expecting me to go along with whatever lies she told people about what happened (e.g saying her blood pressure was extremely high and dangerous when it had come back completely normal)

forcing me to spend the weekends at her flat whether I wanted to or not, to the extent that my housing benefit and tenancy at nelson house was put at risk

alternately praising and demeaning my support worker depending on what she had advised me about our relationship (she was leas friend/flying monkey and would switch between saying lea was abusing me and that she was good for me)

making false accusations to the police and sanctuary about me “watching videos of babies being raped” on the darkweb in an attempt to get me to kill myself because i was starting to break away from her control

breaking up with me because i sent someone she didnt like a text after being banned from talking to her all weekend

banning me from talking to people and constantly checking to see if i was or not

taking an “overdose” (it was 25mg of diazepam lol) to try and get me to go crawling back to her

saying that I snored and forcing me to use all kinds of expensive and extremely uncomfortable anti snoring medication /devices, and then usually waking me up in the middle of the night and kicking me out anyway (but getting offended if i suggested sleeping separately from the start)

acting indifferent to my presence and alternating between saying she loved me and that she didn’t need me and wouldn’t miss me if i was gone

forcing me to disclose traumatic things even if I said i wasn’t comfortable speaking to her about it (guilt trips), and then using those things against me/miraculously having the same thing happen to her but ten times worse

gossiping about me with one of my support workers and using that support workers opinion to give legitimacy to her attempts to control my decisions

making me sleep next to the open bedroom door (in her usual spot) when i was unwell despite knowing it terrified me

blaming my behavior on diagnosis she had given me herself (“it’s your autism/bipolar” etc) and insisting i didnt have bpd because “thats just what they diagnose you with when they dont know what to do with you”

making me give her massages/wash her hair and body/squeeze her back spots/shave her legs /cut her toenails for her more or less every night and getting aggressive/sulking if i didnt want to

blaming physical ailments (that she demonstrably didn’t have and who’s severity /presentation changed on a very convenient basis) as an excuse to make me do things for her

putting me under huge amounts of pressure to perform “correctly” for her at all times or be harshly berated, ultimately driving me to attempt suicide several times because there was no escape from her nastiness

telling me that her family didn’t like me /disapproved of our relationship if she couldn’t get her own way and saying they wanted her to leave me because I was x y or z

Repeatedly telling a story about her dad (who has a violent history and had been in prison for attempted murder) threatening to burn down an ex girlfriends workplace and finding it hilarious that her ex was too scared to go to work for weeks

dismissing my concerns about anything as not a big deal or getting angry about me bringing them up, even serious things (e.g a sexual assault)

deliberately provoking me when I had told her to stop because my mental health was bad and i didnt feel able to control my reactions, because she enjoyed the drama /going to the hospital /getting attention from playing the long suffering loyal girlfriend role

only ever treating me with kindness if I had made a suicide attempt/done something dangerous to myself, and then using that against me later (”you put me through hell and im still always there for you so why cant you x y or z”)

blaming her being “in crisis” on me/my poor mental health (and not even being in crisis to begin with)

never saying sorry for hurting me, ever, even when proven “wrong” about something in front of impartial third party who insisted she should apologize for it

getting angry at me for googling any of the ridiculous things she said if I wasn’t sure it was accurate

making me go to a&e/doctors /mental health team when I didn’t want or need to be there because she enjoyed the attention she received as my partner

being angry at me for bring “constantly” on my phone and accusing me of texting other people instead of paying attention to her/whatever was on tv

getting angry if I didn’t want to watch whatever she was watching on tv (she would still be watching it but would get angry if I didn’t pay enough attention)

constantly trying to one-up me with her mental health/dismiss my concerns about how i was feeling and calling me self-centered because she had everything so much worse but was still “getting on with it”

demanding that i always answer the phone to her, and calling multiple times a day to keep tabs on me, usually keeping me talking for 2-3 hours daily whenever i wasnt staying at hers. it got to the point that it was pointless for me to try to do anything because i would start and then she would interrupt. if i didnt answer she would continually call the office claiming to be worried about me

trying to stop me from drinking, going to the extent of telling my parents she thought i had a drinking problem (i objectively didnt) because she didnt want me to spend time with a housemate she was jealous of because we actually had fun

expecting me to drop everything even when I was unwell to help care for an elderly man (who at one point sexually assaulted me), including regularly cleaning up urine/feces from the walls/floor because she didnt want to do that part, despite me saying that we werent trained and didnt have the correct ppe, and if we kept going above and beyond for him social services werent going to put a proper care plan in place for him. includes countless hours at hospital etc

buying me a shirt with a a swear word printed prominently on it and getting angry when I said it would be inappropriate to wear to a care home in case they kicked me out, and forcing me to do it anyway because she wanted brian (old man) to see it

lying about the value of gifts she’d brought me as a means of control/guilt (e.g earrings that she’d told me were £60, getting angry when i accidentally damaged one but when i went to get one fixed the guy said they weren’t worth more than £10 and would cost more to repair than replace)

insisting she couldn’t wait to rehome our cats (and taking the money for them despite the fact that i paid for them and their stuff) and giving them to a stranger despite knowing it would be a matter of weeks before i would be in a position to take them myself, because she couldn’t be bothered to look after them

deciding that we were getting guinea pigs (i wanted something else) and saying that caring for them would be split equally with one belonging to her and one to me, and that she would take them with her when she moved out, but only ever cleaning them once and then leaving me to care for them exclusively

complaining and calling me needy whenever i tried to show any kind of affection

accusing me of not trusting her when i did implicitly like an idiot

blaming all the problems in the relationship on me and whenever i brought up something that was upsetting me telling me that i did it to her too but worse

taking credit for me “getting gobby”/becoming less introverted and saying she was a good influence on me, despite having nothing to do with it (and that not being true, I was just settling in to the house)

having to sit in darkness because she wouldn’t let me open the blinds because she said having them open would damage her tv

if i was ever angry/irritated saying i was “hangry” and taking the piss, encouraging me to comfort eat and then acting smug when it calmed me down

saying that she hopes my friend dies and that she deserves to die when she was in a coma

trying to turn a mutual friend against me after she broke up with me, to the point that the friend refused to repeat what she'd said but told me she was dangerous and to stay away from her

expecting me to drop everything and make her cups of tea whenever she wanted, and making me remake them if they weren’t perfect /getting angry if I said i was busy

particularly saying i had to remake tea because it tasted like soap because i hadnt washed her cup up properly (she would use the same mugs continually until they were absolutely filthy and then leave me to wash them when i was there), often after I definitely had washed them properly but she just wanted to keep me in my place

playing on my fears (of guilt, abandonment etc)

convincing me to change my mind about what i wanted through compliments etc (e.g saying i looked much better wearing whatever she wanted me to wear)

expecting me to know what she wanted at all times without being asked and generally to be able to read her mind, and getting angry and claiming that i should know what she wanted because i was her girlfriend and that she always knew what i wanted and did everything for me blah blah blah

getting angry when i suggested couples therapy and saying it would be pointless because i would just blame everything on her

accusing me of “thundering around” and having heavy footsteps when i was just walking normally so I got so paranoid i had to tiptoe everywhere

refusing to clean up to the point that she got cockroaches, then refusing to acknowledge that it was because she kept leaving dirty dishes etc out and blaming it on her neighbours or on me, and then refusing to do anything about it so i had to pay for the poison and put it out repeatedly etc and make sure I cleaned up after her every time I came over so they wouldn't keep coming back

getting extremely frustrated when trying to accomplish simple tasks (usually diy related) but getting really angry and me when i offered help and accusing me of thinking she was an idiot (she was being an idiot a lot of the time, not reading instructions/using powertools in dangerous ways etc). it was scary and she would sometimes break things that i had bought out of frustration if she couldnt get them to work right (the cat cage & ball track toy for example)

refusing to prepare at all for when she moved out of nelson house so i had to do it, and then refusing to unpack her stuff at the other end in the hope that i would do that too

refusing to let me report an incidence of child abuse that happened in a neighbouring flat to hers because she was friends with the father and said the child deserved it

refusing to let me take the bus at times (she did pay for taxis for me but given the amount of money she took from me i might as well have been paying for them) even when i wanted to and acting like by not giving me a choice she was doing me a favour. in retrospect i think she wanted to know that i was going straight home

always asking me where i was, who i was with and sometimes accusing me of lying about it, either way trying to make my life hell

trying to encourage me to stay on my own and ignore my housemates but phrasing it in a cutesy way (just make a cup of tea and shut your door and have a nice night to yourself without any drama) so it sounded less like she was trying to be controlling

ringing me every night to confirm that i was in bed when i said i would be and making me video call her if she didnt believe me

telling me gossip about mutual friends that wasnt even true because she loved the drama (e.g saying venetias children had died because they had been born deformed)

constantly slagging off her exes and telling fantastical stories about how they broke up/stalked her/abandoned her/abused her and about the triumphant ways she got back at them

generally always telling incredibly unbelievable stories that made her look either “good” (e.g “taking down a squaddie in front of his mates”, sleeping with a nurse while both on duty) or made her out to be the illest (claiming to have had a psychotic break, coughing up a kidney stone)

virtue signalling with brian while also being controlling towards him/explaining things to him in a way that he would do what she wanted/saying “oh he won’t mind, he’d tell us to do it if he were here” when she used his card to buy us lunch etc (yeah he probably would have but that isnt the point)

getting angry if i ever discussed our relationship with anyone else, saying it was none of their business/i was trying to make her look like a cunt; telling me not to tell anyone after she did horrible things

promising things about the future and then never delivering any of it

saying that she wouldnt be the one carrying our children, trying to tell me that getting sperm from facebook was safe and generally treating me like a walking uterus

ending lies/false promises with “you know i will/do/am” to try and enforce to me that she was telling the truth

telling me to cancel holidays id paid for/not come over/generally throwing her toys out of the pram when she couldnt get her own way

forcing me to watch murder documentaries, usually about women being murdered by their partners, and getting way too in to it in a way that was a bit creepy

telling me my menstrual cup was disgusting and trying to force me to use tampons instead

making a big fuss about how she used to ~be an alcoholic~ and that she cant drink because it makes her a nasty person, and then buying a load of beer and vodka when the relationship wasnt going well and saying shed fallen off of the wagon because of me

constantly telling me i had BO to the point i was really paranoid (nobody else has ever said anything about it)

bullying me into letting her smoke in my room

throwing her rubbish on to my floor constantly because she was too lazy to pick it up, so i had to

constantly talking about how against domestic violence she was, saying she'd never hit a woman and how she had been a victim of it to make me think what she was doing wasnt abuse

doing small things for me that I found difficult because of my mental health (e. g phone calls) and then holding it over my head

telling me that i was incapable of love, and that the only person i loved was myself because of how selfish i am

deliberately killing two bees that I was enjoying watching by stomping them into the pavement then laughing at me when I was upset about it

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miniwixoide · 6 years

Text

survey :)

Who was the last person to call you baby/babe? pirate.... or maybe sophie

Anyone crushing on you? yes :)

What is your relationship status? seeing someone....

Has anyone ever sang to you? yes :)

Has anyone ever given you roses? yes !!! zofia has... and a guy i used to date

Who do you text the most? my roommate and zof

First person to text today? sophie

What color are your eyes? brown

What is a compliment you receive often? that im beautiful and hot :)

Who was the last person to say they loved you and when? pirate last night

Do you like your parents? yes

Do you secretly like someone? yes

Why did your last relationship end? problems

Who was the last person you said you loved on the phone? pirate

Who was the last person you kissed? pirate

Do you like funny people or serious people? funny :)

What are you listening to? coworkers talking

Is the last person you kissed older than you? yes laughing crying emoji

Are you happy right now? i have an annoying booger in my nose

If you could have one thing right now what would it be? a million dollars xD

Who makes you happiest right now? my self

Do you want to get married & have children one day? idk

Would you kiss the last person you kissed again? yeah

How many girlfriends/ boyfriends have told you they love you? idk like uhhh 5-6?

Have you ever thought that you were going to marry a person? no

Are you crushing on someone? yea

Have you ever loved someone so much that it hurt? yea

Have you ever made a boyfriend or girlfriend cry? yes

Are you happier single or in a relationship? idk

Have you ever told someone you loved them and didn’t mean it? no

Have you ever had your heart broken? yes

Have you ever broken someone’s heart? yes

If you could go back in time and change things, would you? yes

Think any of your ex’s feel the same? idk but they should :p

Do you believe that you are a good boyfriend or girlfriend? yes

Have you dated people who were not good to you? lol yes

Do you believe everyone deserves a second chance? no

Do you believe in love at first sight? no

Ever been given an engagement ring? yes lol

Do you want to get married? idk

Has anyone ever told you they wanted to marry you? yes

Ever liked someone else’s boyfriend or girlfriend? yes but never acted on it or anything

Does heartbreak really feel as bad as it sounds? yep

Have any of your ex’s told you they regret breaking up with you? no

Would you believe your ex if he said they love you? no

Would you ever date your best male friend? no

If your best friend of the opposite sex went out with someone you knew was wrong for them would you speak up? yes and i have lol

Do you regret any of your relationships? not really cuz i learned but like. i feel a little bit ashamed

Would you date an ex? no except maybe one

Where were you at 9 o’clock this morning? passed out

When was the last time you saw your best friend? this weekend

Do you tend to update your Facebook status a lot? no never

Is there someone you feel you can talk to about absolutely anything? not really lol

What subject were you best at in school? french / literature

The last conversation you had with the opposite sex, what was it about? occupation double

When was the last time you charged your phone? overnight

Do you have anyone on your Facebook friends list that you’ve never even talked to? yeah

List 5 things you’re afraid of: people i love dying, getting sick, being assaulted, fire, traumatizing stuff

Have you forgotten anything important recently? i forgot to wake up this morning

Would you say you’re an honest person? idk

The last Facebook message you received from the opposite sex, what did it say? jmen va dans la douche jre

What does the nicest message in your Facebook inbox say? damn idk LOL

Is your best friend single? no

What colour was the ink of the last pen you wrote with? black

What does your pencil-case look like? holographic astro boy black pencil case :)

Where was the last place you went that was totally new to you, as in, it was the first time you’d been there? good question :|

When was the last time you used someone else’s computer? right now technically

Who do you dislike the most? Explain what you dislike about that person. idk..... i dislike mysogynist creeps

Tell me 5 random facts about your sibling(s). (Or your best friend, if you’re an only child): he is four years old, a gemini, loves ultraman, favorite color is red, talks to ghosts

What’s the longest you’ve liked someone without doing anything about it? like 6 years LOL

Do you use straightening irons on your hair? What brand? yes, tresemmé i think

What’s the relationship status of the last person you talked to? coworkers

Is there anything you would like to complain about? yeah :p

What’s the first line of the last song you listened to? in the magazines, on the movie screens

Think of the person from your past that hurt you the most. Is there anything you would like to say to that person? die :p

Does your mom like the last person you kissed? she doesn't know him

Now your cell phone, what color is it? black

Last text? Who was it from? 'encore?' from sophie

Do you use your speed dials? no

What was so special about today? umm i made peace with someone :)

If somebody tried to steal your best friend’s boyfriend/girlfriend, what would you do? warn her or something

What was the last thing you said to your mother? i don't remember :(

When was the last time you cried? i don't remember.. like 2 weeks ago

Has anyone made you upset lately? yes

What are you looking forward to? my next date, getting high, playing mario, working with my friend

Does anyone completely understand you? no

Ever stayed up all night on the phone? yes

Do you miss your past? not really no but parts of it sometimes

Do you have a reason to smile right now? yes always :)

Are you a forgiving person? too forgiving yeah but less than i used to be

Do you say sorry first? depends

Do you like cats? yes

Has someone promised you something and broke it? yes lol

Did you kiss or hug anyone today? just hug

Does your phone ring in the middle of the night? rarely

Is there anybody you’re really disappointed in right now? no

Have you ever lost someone you wish you didn’t? yes :(

Are you anything like you were a year ago? yeah but im VERY different and for the better :)

Have you ever felt like you hit rock bottom? yes

Would you rather spend a day outside with friends or inside alone? outside with friends :)

Think back to this time last year, were you happy? absolutely not

Has anyone upset you in the last week? kind of but not for long

What should you be doing? im doing it

Describe how you feel right now in one word. hungry!

What would you do if you found out one of your friends was going for the person you liked? LOL..... i'd laugh

Do you prefer drinking water from a bottle or a sink? filtered water sink :p

Will you ever run away and get married in Las Vegas with no notifications to either of your families? nah

Have you ever thrown your ipod in anger? nooo

Who did you last have a heart-to-heart conversation with? idk

Do you believe that there’s good in everybody? yeah

Has anything happened to you within the past month that has made you mad? probably but i cant remember right now

Would you ever get a tattoo? yes i have two

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possibilistfanfiction · 7 years

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hiya! i notice you tag a lot of your posts with 'nora, sloane, etc.' i understand these are characters for a story you're doing. i'm curious: what's the story about?

ok ! well @turnandchasethewind (olivia) & i have been working on the sketches for this show for like. a Long time lmao it has as most projects do grown & changed & become something entirely its own & i think it’s really awesome & lovely & am rly rly jazzed for it to move forward one day

anyway the working title for it is called views, & it basically follows sloane & nora, best friends who live & work in toronto. they met when they were 18/19 at a catering gig (terrible) & theyre the kind of love that is this epic soft quiet fun powerful love between female friends. they’re young & they’re a little lost always, & the world hurts, but like. they’re Good. the current storyline begins when they’re in their early/mid-twenties & nora meets ridley, who becomes her girlfriend. ridley is rly rly lovely & beautiful & whip smart & v kind & sloane hates her which is altogether mostly funny but a little sad

sloane ideally would be played by maia mitchell just for a visual but like. a grungier cooler hot mess version of maia bc like. sloane is a trash kid she’s our absolute fav she has tons of stick n pokes & her hair is a mess or buzzed (or both) & she will wear vans until they r literally falling off. she shops mostly at black market & she got this bike off kijiji that’s like 800% terrifying. she was diagnosed with bipolar I when she was 18 & shes on meds but its obviously still smth she deals with every day. shes from vancouver & she dropped out of mcgill after An Episode but mostly bc she hated it & she moved to toronto a few months after that (which is p much immediately when she met nora). shes like our token white character shes funny everyone drags her constantly abt so many things but they Love sloane. she eats Shit food unless nora’s parents buy her groceries & she drinks a lot & sometimes she has lil spirals but she has a dog named carly rae who helps a lot. she also has a big brother named whit he’s trans & he lives in brooklyn & she Adores him. shes a tremendously talented musician but ofc being a musician is v difficult so she also works a bunch of weird jobs between music gigs. she lives in a funky apartment in kensington w like six rotating roommates. she plays sets at the beaver all the time. if sloane was gonna write a song it would be ‘young’ by vallis alps but if sloane had a themesong its a tie between i wanna get better by bleachers & control by halsey & buzzcut season by lorde & then a rly rly sad cover of i rly like you by carly rae

nora is laura harrier bc like Hot & also biracial so thats dope. shes a baker & she works at a rly cute lil bakery on queen west & she always looks so pretty & put together & she rides this beautiful linus bike everywhere w a fucking basket & everything she wears so much birds of north america & oak + fort & rly just anything from victoire & she has like 12 pairs of blundstones. shes from etobicoke & her parents are both immigrants so nora is first generation canadian shes v v invested in how that all interacts shes a smart cool kid. she’s bisexual she came out when she was 16 bc she Literally got drunk in a closet & she has a history of dating Truly shitty ppl so sloane is like v v Hesitant when she falls for ridley. she has some beautiful tattoos & some silly stick n pokes, mostly w sloane. she has a rly cool little sister named kennedy who goes to ryerson & nora went to george brown. shes rly passionate abt intersectional feminism & she volunteers w a few different organizations around the city that help lgbtq+ youth shes like. a Good person & also sloane ADORES her & nora is in a v real kinda love w sloane theyre the v best pals. also girl can Drink. once a month regardless of how cold it is she & sloane make rly good pot brownies & go to trinity bellwoods & eat them & they end up Laughing a lot. nora also fosters w save our scruff bc she & sloane adopted carly rae together but carly rae is like an emotional support animal for sloane so she spends most of her time at sloane’s apartment so bc of that nora likes to foster dogs its rly cute. she has a beautiful lil tiny studio off euclid & queen. if nora had a themesong its like some dope gay (bi) ass mix of company by tinashe & feelin myself by nicki but then she meets ridley so shes like all night by bey

pls know that nora & sloane sometimes get Rly drunk at the greenroom in the annex mostly bc they love smoking in the lil alleyway its like. their trash special place. & their songs r like. california by grimes & love gang by whethan ft charli xcx & ribs by lorde

ok in our heads ridley is played by aj but mostly bc its hot & we love her lol, ideally ridley is quebecois metis. she has a degree in physics but her parents just both died so shes kinda taking a break from everything & rn shes a florist in the shop next to noras bakery on queen west. shes from montreal but she went to school in the states & she has a longtime ex named ash. theyre non binary & ridley & ash are still rly good friends which sloane is like Suspicious abt but nora is like sloane jfc. ridley is rly smart she wears a Lot of stay home club & j brands & she & nora have a lot of shoes n boots that look almost identical. shes queer & shes kinda just been queer forever? her parents were scientists so it was always a v inclusive educated lil home she grew up in. she was named after ridley scott & everyone always jokes that she was conceived during alien lol & honestly she probably was. shes rly funny & she has beautiful tattoos & pretty pretty eyes & nora falls for her rly fast. she has a lil quebecois accent & sometimes she forgets words in english when shes drunk or tired. she & nora first kiss outside of the beaver in the snow theyre in the alley behind the gladstone w rly beautiful street art they were smoking cigarettes & its just. soft. so queer. ridleys lil songs r hold by vera blue & 21 moon water by bon iver & Mostly corbeau by coeur de pirate

sloane has a plot twist & falls in love w jack who is half-japanese & hes rly good friends w ridley which is the plot twist part a little but the BIG plot twist part is that she falls in love at all bc she is Convinced no one can handle her & she isnt stable enough for romantic love etc etc. but jack is so good hes so smart & hes a music therapist for kids on the spectrum its like Absurd how good a person he is. hes trans & hes abt to have top surgery like a few months after he meets sloane & she goes for a while & is like blah blah im not in love w him whatever its just sex but then shes So worried abt him being ok during & after surgery & she cares abt him so much & she gets Rly drunk & cries abt it to nora its funny. one day sloane is having a rly rly bad lil depressive episode & nora has been outta town all weekend w her parents & kennedy at their cottage in muskoka & so nora texts jack like. yo sloane has bipolar i she shouldve told u this but like i gotta tell u now bc shes havin a meltdown so pls go over & bring her food from fresh get the falafel tacos & like all the pressed juice ill venmo you & Pls make her shower if she buzzed her hair try to find the scalp treatment i got her from lush its in her dresser top drawer. also shes gonna wanna drink just let her do that & make sure she takes her meds she’ll be ok itll take a day or two & hes like ok. a lot but ok. & he goes & he brings sloane food & a tshirt of his & he gets her into the shower & out to the couch & puts on superstore & she curls up into him on one side & carly rae on the other & she cries a little but honestly its not so bad & like. hes so in love w her its wild she never thought that would happen its a fun plot twist even olivia & i didnt plan on

so anyway the whole show is kinda an ode to toronto & an ode to being young & in love w your friends in a rly profound way & also what its like to fall in love w ppl u might wanna spend ur life with, a kinda love thats v new. its abt queerness & gender & race in a way thats v much present but all of the main characters r rly informed & rly like passionate abt intersectional feminism & thats a cool aspect we r both v excited abt. also sloane deals v realistically w a balance between being stable w bipolar I & also being v creative & v connected to making music which is smth thats v important to me esp. nora was sexually assaulted before she met ridley (HATE!) but we delve into that as well.

mostly like. its just ‘we’re never done w killing time/ can i kill it w you/ i’d like it if you stayed’

#views #Anonymous #sloane #ridley #nora #if u want u can hmu for my spotify bc there are a lot of playlists for views

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theonion · 7 years

Photo

The lockup is a bleak place. You’re surrounded on all sides by reinforced cement and barbed wire, staring eye to eye with some of the most dangerous people you’ll ever meet. An environment like that really gets to you after a while. In fact, sometimes I feel like I’m in prison, too.

But then my shift ends, and I go back to my own house where I enjoy a nice, hot meal with my family and fall asleep in my own bed.

I spend day after day with men convicted of robbery, assault, murder. I’m cursed at and spit on. I have my life threatened on a daily basis. You take enough abuse like that, and you soon find yourself wondering, “Who’s the real prisoner here?” It’s a question that never, ever leaves my mind until around 6:30, when I walk right past security, head out the front gate, and drive three towns over to get a beer with some buddies.

Still, you patrol these cell blocks long enough with nothing but your baton and your wits to keep you safe, and you feel like you’re starting to lose your sense of self. After 15 years of doing this job, it feels at times like I’m just another inmate caged in this hellhole, powerless to escape, excluding my lunch break, which I typically take at the nearby Panera around noon. Also excluding dentist’s appointments, weekends, and a personal day I might schedule when I want to catch a ballgame with some friends visiting from out of town.

Then I don’t feel like I’m an inmate at all, if I’m being perfectly honest.

God, I’ll never forget the first time I walked into Attica and heard the gates slam shut behind me. It felt like they’d never open again. Of course, then I remembered I have an ID badge that lets me come and go as I please, which cheered me right up. See, in this line of work, you learn real quick that the abundant freedom you have to live your life pretty much as you please is the only thing keeping you from feeling like you’re the one with the life sentence.

Staring out of these bar-covered windows at the end of another long shift, I sometimes wonder if I’m ever going to breathe fresh air or feel the warmth of the sun on my back again. Thankfully, we have a decent amount of paid vacation, so anytime I feel overwhelmed, I’ll just spend the day strolling around the park downtown and getting all the sun and fresh air I could ever want.

But if I ever really start to lose myself, I can always just beat the shit out of one of the prisoners. That usually clears up who’s the guard and who’s the inmate right away.

#The Onion

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ispyamoose · 7 years

Text

I was labeled the “psycho ex-girlfriend” by two different guys. Here’s my side.

For the sake of transparency, names used will be altered.

I dated Guy #1 on and off from 2005 to 2007. We’ll call him Andrew. We’d been friends since 2000 because we were in band together. Middle school brought us together as friends and then high school we still hung out regularly. My teen years were hell and he was a great friend through all of it, though very detached as a person. I was sexually assaulted by two different people, when I was 12 and then at 14. I’d had a thing for Andrew on and off for probably about 3 years before we actually started dating. I was honest about it and he was not comfortable with the idea of dating anyone. For the longest time he was very uncomfortable with sexuality in any way. I respected his wishes and we remained friends, since we still had a ton in common.

At some point he matured more and either became more knowledgeable or just grew up. He asked me out in August 2005 and I was thrilled. We were together for a few months but he broke it off. He thought we were too different romantically and had baggage he didn’t feel I should deal with. A couple months later, beginning of 2006, he asked me back, he felt that things were unfinished, and so did I. Things were going really well, but I developed feelings for someone else and so this time I broke it off. It wasn’t fair to him at all and I’m not a cheater. This was April 2006.

Fast forward 8 months, to the end of 2006. We were very close again, and we spent a great New Year’s Eve together. We hooked up (minus sex) and we talked nonstop when I went back to college. Spring break in 2007 I was back home, and we started dating again. I took his virginity and we were together. He couldn’t take the distance though, despite being a detached person who enjoyed his personal space. So he broke it off.

I came home from school in May 2007 and we hooked up, this time with a LOT of sex. We were back together for maybe 3 months and finally, in the beginning of August 2007, we were done for good. We talked here and there, hung out once or twice, but we were better not together. I had body image issues and major self-esteem issues, and I’m sure I projected that onto him. He felt it was his duty to make me feel good about myself, but I never wanted that to be his responsibility. It was my job, but I had a terrible home environment so I had very few supportive people in my life to surround myself with. Nevertheless, I’m sure it became a burden for him.

Now we’re in 2008, and I’d had some heavy shit happen. I was dating a guy since the end of August 2007, and he happens to be Guy #2. We’ll call him Ernest. Through the end of 2007 and into 2008, things got really bad at home. It became a toxic, abusive environment and I wanted to be out of there as much as possible. I spent nearly all my time with Ernest.

Despite using condoms and birth control, I became pregnant twice in 2008, and miscarried twice. The first one was because my stepmom pushed me. The second was because someone fell on me at a concert. My relationship became really controlling and abusive. Ernest would verbally abuse me, threaten to kill himself when I wanted to spend time with other people, and micromanage my every move. He never hit me, but anytime I tried to leave because he was scaring me or I felt my “fight or flight” instinct kick in, he would grab me by the wrist tightly and keep me there. He’d guilt trip me into keeping me there, saying I didn’t love him, that I was going to leave him. He was always paranoid that I was going to leave him. He hated the time I spent with friends without him and would threaten to hurt himself unless he could come or I could come see him.

Throughout all this, I was still friends with Andrew, and Ernest knew it and was okay with it because we rarely hung out. Andrew and I still confided in each other, and I thought he could still be a confidant. So I told him about all the abuse at home and in my relationship, told him about my miscarriages, and I also had one of the men who sexually assaulted me following me around and threatening me, because he worked up the street from my father’s house and knew where I lived. So I told Andrew about these things, and he was very encouraging and kind. I know it may have been weird to discuss these things with an ex, but it was a mutual separation and we’d been friends for 8 years by that point. He’d discussed his home life and personal issues as well, that it didn’t matter at all. Or so I thought.

One day in June 2008, I Googled my AIM screen name because I was looking for my old AOL Hometown page from like 2001, because I had pictures on there I wanted and I was hoping it still existed. Instead, I found a website titled, “Rachel, or as I prefer to call it, ‘Conversations With A Psycho Ex-Girlfriend’”. On this website is pages, FOLDERS of these private conversations we had. My AIM screen name was readily available and my identity was revealed to mutual friends we had, that I still associated with. These conversations detailed the abuse I was dealing with between my home life and relationship, miscarriages, and other deeply personal information. In between these lines of IM conversation, he narrated bits of information about how I lied about everything, and how I was so overly dramatic. He cut down every line of text I had written, and made me out to be a pathological liar. By the time I found it and called him requesting he take it down, it had apparently been up for months and he just kept adding to it. He took it down and sent me the archive, laughing and sneering the entire time. I removed him from all social media and cut him off completely.

Now back to Ernest. I was smack dab in the middle of an abusive relationship and I had no idea. All I knew at the time was I was growing more and more depressed and felt trapped in my situation. I loved him and didn’t want to make him upset. I was so blind to the abuse at the time, but I had friends questioning the fact that I was spending every minute with him and ditching them for him, though they didn’t know why. I was back to self-harm and tried to take my own life but nobody knew. He experienced my self-harm but he didn’t know I tried killing myself. The relationship had gotten that bad and I knew if I’d let on he would be triggered. When he saw I was self-harming, he was self-harming too out of “guilt”. I saw what was happening to myself and put myself in check. I didn’t want to die, I didn’t want to keep hurting.

I was out of school at this point, he made me come back home to Jersey from New Hampshire where I’d been going to school in the middle of the spring semester in 2008. So I left that school and enrolled in a state school. I began again September 2008, and our relationship was finally much better. My mental health was in check, his was as well because he was back in school also, and there was distance but not much since I was only an hour away. He was still micro-managing me, however. He demanded all of my time, even if I was in class and he was as well. But he finally wasn’t self-harming or threatening suicide.

Then, for Halloween weekend, my best friend drove to visit me at school. She came of her own accord, made all the plans, was paying for everything for me since I was broke, and was driving herself down. Ernest wanted to come too, but my best friend messaged him explaining it was going to be a girls’ weekend. She hadn’t seen me since I left for school, whereas he’d seen me a few weeks prior when he was visiting potential colleges. He was pissed at first because he was insisting on riding with her, but then his parents wouldn’t let him go. Then he backed up from the situation and agreed he was being unreasonable, and things were fine. Then, however, on Halloween itself, he broke up with me. Ernest said that Toni was controlling me and my every decision and it was interfering with our relationship. He turned around and made me out to be psychotic.

Did I have issues? Yes, absolutely. But I got help, put myself in check, and learned from my relationship with Andrew to not project that onto him. It was not his job to fix me. Not to mention Ernest caused most of the issues I was having! I was so happy to be rid of him. I did so much better after that.

#relationships #abuse #psycho #rant #dating

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askjennie · 7 years

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Its long, I'm sorry. You dont have to read if you dont want, I just needed to talk and possible advice.

I can’t make this anon but please dont post it. I’m really glad I found an advice blog. I feel like I can’t talk to anyone anymore. Its just the same shit everyday with me and I know its getting old. I just haven’t tried to talk to anyone in a few years and I feel like I’m getting bad again. I needed to talk to someone but I promise I won’t bug you all the time. You dont even have to respond but I had to get it out and hopefully you might have a little support. I’ve been with my bf for almost 6 years. I know the obvious answer to what I’m about to say but its harder then it seems to leave someone you’ve spent so much time with. It started out amazing or seemed amazing like any new relationships do. He hasn’t done anything for me in the entire relationship. He waits for me to come on weekends so he can use my car and spend my money. I’m 25 btw and he’s 28. He does have his own problems and I’ve respected that. Hes bi polar and has bad anxiety and depression. Since I’ve been with him, I’ve now gone through bad depression and have anxiety. I’ve worked hard our entire relationship and all he does is ask for the money and never says thank you. Just expects it. He never feels bad or tells me he feels bad about not working to help or anything. We have gone through a lot together and one pretty traumatic experience. I do love him with all my heart. I just dont think I’m in love with him anymore. I dont want to lose him or be without him but I really dont know why. When I stay with him on the weekends, he barely even looks at me. He’s on his phone all the time. I really do know that at least when im there, he isn’t talking to girls. He’s just obsessed with football and is in a lot of different chat groups and leagues and shit like that. I can’t speak for what he does when I’m not there but I know he doesn’t when I’m there and I’m like 80% sure he’s not cheating on me. It still really hurts that I love him so much and he really doesn’t care if I’m there at all as long as I bring the money and car every weekend. We have sex about once every 3 months and even then it lasts like 5 mins and it wasn’t intimate. And yes he does take care of himself during the 3 month off time. I think what is making me need to talk so bad today is something that happened yesterday. Yesterday was Easter and I was getting ready for my family gathering and I had food in the oven and I was getting dressed and had about 15mins before I needed to leave. He decided he wanted to have sex randomly and I told him I wanted to wait until later when we didnt have to rush and I could enjoy it. We haven’t had sex since Feb and I wanted to be able to enjoy it. He kept saying we wouldn’t rush and it would be good. I kept telling him to wait until later and that I didnt have time but he kept trying to turn me around until finally I just gave up and let him do it. it was kinda like I just knew he wouldn’t stop but also I didn’t want him to get mad if I really didnt let him. So after a few times of pushing him away I just let him do it. I feel so stupid sometimes. I always feel used, whether it be sex or money or transportation. I dont know if he truly loves me or if he really does just take advantage of me. I feel like he does love me but doesn’t realize how much he is taking advantage of me. Every time I confront him, he will somehow turn it around and make me feel stupid for thinking it or point out how he fixes my food or something stupid. “Or how at least he isn’t cheating on me, could be a lot worse” and somehow I lose all my words and just can’t fight back. I still know its not right but he always makes me feel bad for thinking it. We got a dog together 2 years ago. she stays with him all the time and I go on weekends. You know how dogs (especially chihuahuas) pick their person that they seem to go to and love most? She picked me. Every time I go there, she doesn’t leave my lap, she follows me everywhere. I love that dog more then anything. And thats my problem. Its so stupid. How can I leave him and more then likely never see her again? How can I do that to her? She’s not going to understand why I’m not coming anymore. What happened to me? I feel like I am completely stuck. I know how to get out but I feel like it will kill me if I try. But its killing me to stay. Killing me slowly but still hurts so much every day. I’ve lost the person I was before I met him. I built another person after depression (which never truly goes away) and now I’m losing that person. I can’t be with him anymore but I dont think I can be without him. I sound pathetic, I know.

Thank you for being here so I could write that. like I said, you dont have to answer or anything but it would be nice. itd just be nice to get a different kind of answer or advice on how to make it all easier. Or advice on an easier way out or how to cushion the fall. Idk. Just something other then “girl, leave him… You can get another dog”. thats not an answer to me.

Thank you again!

Jennie: This is what you’ve told me about this relationship:

He expects your car and money from you and isn’t grateful for it.

He doesn’t say thank you when you do things for him.

He barely looks at you when you’re together.

He cares more about talking about football online than he does about talking to his girlfriend.

You say that you’re 80% sure he isn’t cheating on you, as though it’s okay or healthy to be 20% unsure.

You’re not in love with him any more.

He’s raped you. If someone pressures you and coerces you into having sex, until you ‘give up and let them do it’, that is rape. If you have sex with someone because you’re worried that they’ll get mad if you don’t, that is rape.

It’s clear that this is an unhealthy situation for you to be in. This guy clearly doesn’t care about you. He cares about himself, and he sees you as a way to get things that he wants. That might hurt, and it might be difficult to accept, because you’ve invested so much time and energy into this relationship, and you care about him. But this isn’t going to get any better. He’s not going to suddenly, magically turn around and say “actually, I’m going to start treating my girlfriend with respect”. If you care about your safety, your health and your future, then you need to end this relationship.

Tell someone you trust about what’s going on (a friend, or a family member), and ask for their support in helping you to leave him. If you’re worried about how he might react, break up in a public place, with witnesses, or even over the phone if you have to.

Is it possible for you to get custody of the dog? That might be something worth fighting for, if it’s the only thing keeping you tied to him. But if he treats her well, then you may have to let her go. That is a tough situation to be in, but you need to put your own safety above everything else. It’s not a good choice to have to make, but the best choice you can make is to stay away from the man who sexually assaulted you.

For more information, advice and support, I recommend you contact RAINN or the National Domestic Violence hotline in the US, or Rape Crisis UK or Women’s Aid in the UK.

#advice #ask me anything #rape #unhealthy relationships #dog #relationships #advice blog #advice column #askjennie

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v-ent · 7 years

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idk what my friend would do if i told him who it was. he can be kinda violent. hes also been through pretty severe abuse. we both have did. i dont want to say who did it though. i can make sure im not near my abuser on the anniversary but i dont think the same person would assault me on the 5 year mark because thats not how it happened last time. im not sure who to be afraid of. - 5 years anon

Hmm, you are safe in the friendship though right? Just concerned about you angel. That is understandable and I would not advise telling him either then, unless you are sure he will not have the opportunity to be act in violence. I’m sorry, it’s scary to not know who to trust or who to fear. I am glad that we have at least established that the previous abuser won’t do this again. Do you have anyone else in your life that you truly trust? If so, you do not even need to tell them about the 5 year mark, but on the day or week or weekend that the mark falls on maybe you can spend time with them! Like do something dun to distract yourself, like go to the movies together or watch movies at their place! Something that both keeps you safe from anything happening, but also keeps you distracted! Is the anniversary soon? I hope you are okay angel.

-Em

#answered #anonymous

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yespoetry · 6 years

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Aaron Pinnix on Non-Spaces & Magic Realism in Poetry

Q & A with Aaron Pinnix and editor Joanna C. Valente

JV: Let’s forget poetry for a second. What else are you obsessed with? What would be a perfect day for you? AP: My perfect day (cue Reed) starts with a latte, reading my most recent S.P.D. purchase, packing book and Adventure Beer in my bag, and setting off on a bike ride toward the various forts and forgotten places of NYC. This city is so layered with simultaneous histories and experiences, this neat abandonment, recycling and reoccupation of spaces. - Floyd Bennett Field, Staten Island and Sandy Hook, NJ are personal favorites.

My obsession? I’m really interested in interstitial or “non”-spaces. Places where use value is ambiguous or varied. For instance cemeteries: In the Victorian era cemeteries were romanticized and used as a place where families would have weekend picnics. Now they are generally ignored, many falling into a disrepair which only adds to their beauty. They still operate though as a sort of pastoral environment and sanctuary for birds and animals, thus are full of life. Kara Walker’s “A Subtlety” is another good example of re-utilizing an abandoned space, here in order to make important claims about race, capitalist production, even gentrification. Of course one could argue that an interest in interstitial spaces, or spaces with ambiguous or complicated use value, also relates to poetry, which often operates within and between ambiguities.

How do you think magical realism lends itself to poetry? I think magical realism (and science fiction, and utopic and dystopic literatures) point towards already existent latent, yet excised, alternatives within our own experiences. This ability to envision something in addition to (not infrequently capitalist based) models of reality allows for an ingression of new possibilities. As Derrida claims “The im- of the im-possible is indeed radical, implacable, undeniable. But it is not simply negative or dialectical: it introduces the possible.” (Within Such Limits, 361). Again, getting back to the ambiguities of poetry, poetry has this unique ability to introduce the possible. Magical realism is but one word/path for this.

Who are some of your favorite writers right now? Heriberto Yépez’s The Empire of Neomemory is my jam right now. I’ve also been enjoying Lila Zemborain’s mauve sea-orchids, the work of Nicole Brossard, Bei Dao, Maggie Nelson’s Bluets, and Ladelle McWhorter’s Racism and Sexual Oppression in Anglo-America. Also, and always, the work of my friends, for instance Sarah Cook’s writing has been blowing me away lately.

What makes you uncomfortable? Actually misogyny: I see so much gender based prejudice directed towards women here in New York City, at all levels- It’s pretty gross. Publicly (or privately) objectifying half the population, and then subjecting them to your fantasy, is a demeaning move for all involved. Uncomfortable may not be the right word. Disappointed in ourselves as a species may be more correct.

You’ve lived in so many different places. What were the poetry communities like? Do you prefer living in New York City? It’s funny to me, as poets, many of us choose to live in one of the roughest cities. Poets tend to be much more sensitive, and yet we put ourselves in a place unfit for us. Why is this? I have complicated feelings about NYC, which is, I think, apt. I can say Frank O’Hara’s “Meditations in an Emergency” makes a lot more sense since moving here. Personally, while spending a lot of time in it, I often travel to some of the quieter places surrounding it (and within it). So NYC maybe means something different to me than to others. For me, it means taking the subway down to Jamaica Bay to see horseshoe crabs, or biking along the Staten Island seashore, as much as it does going to the MET or Broadway or poetry readings. And while poets may be “sensitive,” I think we’re also very curious. This means that a space as complicated and multivalent as NYC offers infinite possibilities for exploration and incursions, incursions which in turn prompt our own ruminations and writing. Like all people, poets crave stimulus, and NYC offers that in excess. We only must be sure to provide ourselves with the space and time to write (a required luxury).

Another thing I really like about NYC is its polyvocality. There are so many different modes and forms of expression.

This is not to gloss over NYC’s issues. For instance it’s so dirty! But I also enjoy watching rats on the subway tracks. Urban Pastoralism.

Various places all have their own issues. For instance, I am in some ways “unfit” for living in Alabama. Maine, while beautiful, is sparse (Oh! to have a coffee shop nearby). Ultimately though, my preference for where I abode is in direct relation to sharing space and time with my partner.

Listen to Aaron read :

Editor's Note: This appeared in a previous issue.

Aaron Pinnix is a graduate student of Fordham University’s English PhD program. Originally of Alabama, formerly of Montreal & Maine, he now hangs his hat in NYC. As a writer who’s fond of dystopias and magical realism, NYC is an ideal location for inspiration. His writing can be found in various places such as Horse Less Press’s special issue on typewritten poetry, ‘Carriage Return,’ the journal ‘Radical Philosophy Review,’ ‘The New Quarterly,’ and ‘Stolen Island.’

Joanna C. Valente is a human who lives in Brooklyn, New York. They are the author of Sirs & Madams (Aldrich Press, 2014), The Gods Are Dead (Deadly Chaps Press, 2015), Marys of the Sea (Operating System, 2017), Sexting Ghosts (Unknown Press, 2018), Xenos (Agape Editions, 2016), and is the editor of A Shadow Map: Writing by Survivors of Sexual Assault (CCM, 2017). They received their MFA in writing at Sarah Lawrence College. Joanna is the founder of Yes, Poetry and the managing editor for Civil Coping Mechanisms and Luna Luna Magazine. Some of their writing has appeared, or is forthcoming, in Brooklyn Magazine, Prelude, BUST, Spork Press, and elsewhere. Joanna also leads workshops at Brooklyn Poets. joannavalente.com / Twitter: @joannasaid / IG: joannacvalente

#Aaron Pinnix #interview #reading

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somedaypast-thesunset · 7 years

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i spoke it out loud.

i spend like.. alot of time in my head now. no one cares to hear things without giving their dumbass opinion. sometimes i just need to say it out loud and today i opened up to a friend ive bonded very close with but havent been in alot of contact with which meant i had to explain scenarios from start to finish - not brief blips of anxiety fueled thoughts about details.

today i felt publically embarassed. it really, really bothered me that for all ive heard and listened to from him he bailed on my show that he volunteered to be apart of two fucking months ago. it wasnt like i forced him to be involved. i didnt even ask him like i wanted him to do it. it was very casual do you want to be apart of it - sure.

i dont think you understand. under all the shitty men ive stuck it out with being treated like a lesser human while building a reputation and skill in my field FROM FUCKING NOTHING while people fucking died and break ups i id nothing but GET FUCKING BETTER. not a god damn thing stopped me because i kept my personal life seperate.

but this didnt start seperate. and like i think he sees this as nothing when its fucking everything to me and im fucking tired of people seeing it as some junk hobby i do because im “unemployed”. and look - even i can see how fucked up it can be sometimes but people enjoy what i do. i give back to MY community which is compromised of atleast 100+ more people and giving back to a community is not defined in lare fucking numbers like i have to contribute to the whole of society. maybe i fucking am.

and i am really... im angry. im just straight up fucking angry and these things never even came up. none of this is questioned. he didnt insult me. he fucking BAILED which is probably the biggest insult of them all. like... i even brought up the fact he coul be about to cheat on me and i’m more pissed that he insulted me in such a way. do i have a fucking degree? do i pull a paycheck? no. but this is fucking valuable. i see it everytime my miserable piece of shit ass pulls together a gathering or event. the fucking city approached me because i created a product they wanted and for the fucking INTEGRITY of the community i stood up and offered my professional reputation on the line to do better. and you cant show up to a fucking 16 person event and read a god damn story? really? that is an embarassment on my behalf to my personal colleagues and god damnit i fucking live here and i have no choice but to work with this because i want better now not 5 years down the road when im all settled and everything is just a thing i do on the weekends. why cant i contribute now. why cant i build myself this way.

so even if you thin these colleagues are unworthy - you stepped into my fucking realm and you so deeply disrespect something i have built from nothing. my professional reputation is associated with your piece of shit fly by night ass and you know what? my fucking bad. i would never in a million years put up with this shit from anyone not puttin gtheir dick in me so this is absolutely ridiculous. i cant even tolerate this in myself any longer and i hope - honestly - i fucking hope you used this as a leaping point into your big break up because this is what’ll make it stick. right. because you “cant fuck someone else” to solidify an ending but you can assault me in multiple ways.

and we both fucking know. we both legitimately fucking know what happened and thats why were not fucking and thats why youre not trying. this - this is all just natural now. and when they ask me ill have to act dumb - oh i have no idea why hes just this crazy guy its what he does when we both know and this sick twisted brain turned to fucking shit. who rehashes such shit. i was with a guy for way fucking longer than almost any of my current peers and i am not fucking with him but you dont think we didnt grow up together? we ha a whole fucking lifetime together, really. i shared an entire thing that no one else fucking knows about but us but you think i ned to rehash that shit with him? fuck no.

ironic right. i wanted to say how toxic it is to be addicted to the past but i would know. i would fucking know the most and we’re all matthew mccougnhey in dazed nd confused addicted to the past to the nostalgia care free late teens early 20s but we’re fucking old and everyone else has grown up but us and we’re here in the ghettos of the wasted suburbs, drinking and smoking weed to numb the fact that we hit our peaks at 16.

do i even give a fuck? like i give A fuck. clearly. im thiining about it. but not in the sense that im hurt. like its some deep offense that he would do such things. i have never believed a word he has said about our relationship. i believe any mention of long term past next week is a fucking joke. but he’s also incredibly kind to me. an i dont think at all that he would carry on some “affair” in private - THATS not our deal.

i dont care that hes talking to her. the grief process is hard and this is a fucked up situation. that doesnt bother me. i think its super wrong to carry on a relationship with this person in close measures but finding a path through grief - whether 2,3,5 years; i get it. does he need to fuck her? nope. and i have had a strange enough relationship - i am not interested in carrying on one tht is knowingly false.

he told me he didnt love me a few weeks ago. before that in another major blow up he mentioned how that particular fight woul lead to a “scar” that woul sit on the relationship. not that it woud be brought up again but acknowledging that he was and is creating real scars emotionally and mentally. it’s not manipulative - i’m here of my own freewill, i deal of my own free will. and this happens not often enough to be a malicious attempt at control. and we dont talk about things. ever. an entire year where we have never spoken about the details of these things we both COMPLEteLY KNOW ABOUT. like we both know he kind of sexually assaulted me for real. and isay for real because of the nature of our relationship but we both strayed from the necessary things for such a relationship that wouldve led to this not even happening and i dont “blame” myself. i absolutely did not want to have sex with him. absolutely did not. i said i did not want to have sex with him. i said no. i did not physically stop him in any way because of the nature of our relationship and the disrespect of my own body as well as maybe a need for approval from him because i associate sex in an intimate romantic relationship as an expression of love from a sexual person. and its hard because i do legitimately feel asexual; i have no interest. i have actual no interest and i feign interest or find ways to be interested to a degree but i dont care. so i am in a position where i am frequently disconnectin from the physical act happening to my body because i may not even be necessarily enjoying it on that sexual level. to me its an appendage inserted in a hole and it’s kind of invasive and a really od experience with someone. like its just odd to do that with a person and share eachother like that - TO ME. but this is like fighting homosexuality. i cant argue a sexual persons desires.

so i enter a relationship already essentially to a technical definition being assaulted. im never truly having consensual sex because i have no desire but i guess i do consent to the invasion of my body. i dont disagree with it happening because if i love you i dont really care if thats your thing. its not that big of a deal. brushing your teeth, taking a shower. all just things you do. this is what a majority of eople do.

but we both fucking know. no matter how many times we had sex where it started with a playful no we both know i absolutely did not want this. my body did not even want it and he still kept going and i was not even making noise and he still kept going and the air was not right when it was over because he STILL KEPT GOING. i was not upset. i did not cry. i didnt lament for hours on it. i turned over and went to sleep because he didnt hurt me. he broke my trust. i’m not traumatized by the experience, i wont put him on the “bad boyfriend” list and make him out to be a predator because hes not. i dont know why he did this. maybe he thought it was okay and he convinced himself it was okay when it wasnt.

we didnt talk about this. we didnt mention it at all but when he heard no next time he immediately stopped. when he heard it again, he immediately stopped. and everytime after, his hands immediately dropped from my body. we both know. can he apologize? we both know. i know he knows. there is zero reason for this change in behavior.

the last time i saw him he drove me to his house so i could smoke weed because of period cramps. and then he dropped out. hes too far in the dog house now and hes not even going to try to get out. this is tooooooo far. on top of everything else when im literally doing nothing but existing in my own shit life. i already look at him now and i dont see the same thing and i want to. but i keep asking myself what the fuck is this where are we going. and ive asked it for an entire year. i asked it so much his face changed and im still the same because i have a need to not give up even when its time.

and you know. had he called me and said im tired/got home late/too much traffic /tried & failed on story and made a genuine effort to seem apologetic on a personal level to me id probably be okay. but instead he just said “sorry. not going.” and ignored all further calls and texts. thats disgusting and like im trying and have been trying really hard to mentally be a better person and this was one of those times he had an opportunity to not do this and he did exactly what i would expect him to do following a stupid message like that.

now what? now hes created a thing. now i gotta wait the fucking 2 - 3 days for him to think i forgot about it or am not as angry so we can sit in the same room, not talk about it and carry on as normal.

but you know what? i was pissed. and i ruminated. but i didnt act. i sent a succinct few messages less than 160 characters asking him to call me and asking if there was any way to get a ride and moved on because all i know is that he’s never goingt o be involved in any of my professional shit ever again. hes totally disbarred from this project and even though hes been a big supporter in the past i dont need this emotional drama involved. totally ot worth it an not valuable to anyone so i dont need a long message because im just going to do whatever i want an not involve him. he doesnt need a big dramatic thing about it. and fuck you that i cant even get a ride. why even waste the energy involved in the dramatic message. thats my message this time. my message is the time he absolutely 100% expects me to send the ramatic message.

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bibianarealizacion · 7 years

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Jane’s Story

Jane, 24, is a survivor of a very violent sexual assault that required urgent medical attention. She since then developed PTSD, severe depression and spent a week in a psychiatric ward because of a suicide attempt. Jane was privileged enough to have had access to medical attention and psychiatric attention under Medicaid. Unfortunately, this is not always the case for victims and the Trump administration threatens the little available healthcare even more. It’s been four years now since the assault and Jane is doing her best to continue to heal although she can’t afford therapy anymore her after having lost her Medicaid and the defunding of Planned Parenthood (which offers group therapy to rape survivors and counselling). Rape may not be something we are able to prevent, but we can improve the way we approach it by understanding and recognizing how heavily it impacts a person both physically and psychologically.

Jane places a mirror on the floor as she prepares to talk about her experience. Jane carefully takes two tiny steps as she steps onto a mirror on the floor. She lifts up her black dress exposing her bare legs as she crouches down to stare at the rectangular mirror below her. She shifts her weight and moves her head as she intently searches the mirror’s reflection between her legs.

I can’t see it. I’ve never been able to see it, and I think that’s fucking crazy

Jane says with a sheepish smile, nodding her head, as she pulls down her dress and takes a sit on the floor next to a pile of laundry.

I think it might not be visible anymore, but I remember looking for it a few days after it happened and I couldn’t find the scar then either.

On the second Saturday of May 2013, Jane got on a plane heading to southern California, where she would be violently raped that night. She had planned a surprise visit for her mother that weekend months in advanced.

It was the first flight I ever booked and I felt so excited and in control. My mom had offered to fly me down for mothers day a few months earlier and was disappointed when I told her I wasn’t going to be able to make it. She didn’t know I had already been saving up my tips and had enough money for a round trip and as decent of a gift as my minimum wage job could afford.

Jane’s eyes gleam with joy as she describes her mother’s excitement when she surprised her that Saturday evening. She picks up a stray shoe lace from the floor and starts wrapping it around her finger as she describes her family’s background with the same joy but now with a hint of longing and nostalgia.

Jane’s father stepped out economically a few years back and declared bankruptcy after some terrible business decisions. Jane’s mother had been unemployed for over a decade but still managed to get a job at a department store and has been making ends meet for Jane and her two younger brothers ever since. Although the cost of living in southern California is astronomical, Jane and her brothers managed to be accepted into one of the districts best schools in the wealthier part of town. The family of three share a one bed room apartment and the kids partake in an hour and a half commute every morning in order to receive a superb education. Jane graduated in 2011 with a high enough GPA to land her a full ride at a University in northern California.

My parents worried that we would be bullied for being latino in a predominantly white school or that it would be hard on us to be surrounded by kids with a beach house, snow cabin and a lake house (these kids were really at the pinnacle of wealth, Im not exaggerating) But I was lucky, and just sort of understood that although it wasn’t my time yet, I could still aspire to the same things those kids did, we were talking the same AP classes after all. Not only did I not feel inferior but I had a really nice high school experience to be honest and built some pretty strong friendships.

The gleam in Jane’s eyes seems to dissipate and her look becomes somber as she talks about her best friend. She continues to wrap the shoelace around her finger, pulling it and making it tighter.

Adriana was my best friend. She lived in a huge house that faced the ocean, but her father was in jail for embezzlement in Mexico City. So her family would hide out in a mansion with an expired visa. I told her I was visiting my mom and she begged me to spend the night at her house that Saturday. My mom reluctantly agreed but asked me to be home early next Sunday so we could celebrate Mothers day. Mothers day.

Jane’s finger has turned purple after being constricted by the shoelace for so long. She stares at it and puts the shoe lace aside. She’s uneasy and opens her mouth as if to say something but immediately closes it afterwards. She looks at the ceiling and takes a deep breath.

This is for sure anonymous right? The names, my voice and everything will be altered so it can’t be traced to me right? Just call me Jane Doe.

I nod but before I can answer Jane claps her hands in front of her chin and takes another deep breath. She quickly wipes her lower eyelid with her finger.

I’m sorry, I’m just not ready or strong enough to feel so exposed you know? I wanna be able to consent and to decide who can approach me about this and when. And I also think it shouldn’t matter who this story belongs to, it’s real and it speaks about a very tragic reality that I think we need to be aware of.

Adriana’s cousin raped Jane that Saturday night, it was the first and only time they met. He entered the room she was sleeping in and violently forced himself on her. The next morning Jane’s bed was drenched in blood.

I woke up disoriented, like I had woken up inside a reality I was not equipped to deal with. I felt a pulsating pain in my core and didn’t want to move but the bed suddenly felt cold and moist when I shifted my weight. I reached down between my legs and felt an alarming amount of warm blood that made me bolt up.

I didn’t know what to do, I didn’t know how to tell anyone and now there was a giant stain of blood in my best friends bed. In that moment I wasn’t even aware of the gravity of the predicament I was in. I found a pad in one of her drawers and tried putting it on until I realized my panties were gone. My immediate concern still remained taking care of the stain because how was I going to explain it? I planned on pulling out the sheets and flipping the mattress but the second I stood up from the bed I felt extremely light headed and realized I needed to be concerned about the bleeding, about myself.

I put on my pants and stuck the pad in there since my underwear was nowhere to be found. I couldn’t process everything that was happening so I just decided I was going to walk to CVS, buy tampons and go home to spend the day with my mom. I wanted to believe that maybe even though I had had sex before, my hymen hadn’t ruptured and this was just that, and it would be fine.

Jane left Adriana’s house at around 6 am without talking to anyone. She walked for an hour down the hill of wealthy abodes in an attempt to reach a pharmacy, but the bleeding was so severe that she had to stop herself and wait for a cab to take her to the hospital.

Things did not get better when I walked out of Adriana’s house like I thought they would. This was before uber and there were no cabs running that early so I had a long walk ahead of me. As I was walking I googled “heavy vaginal bleeding after intercourse”and the results shook me. Menorrhagia. STDS. Miscarriage. Cancer. UTERINE ARTERY RUPTURE. I felt the tears and the fear simultaneously build up inside me. I slowly put my hand between my thighs and became horrified at the amount of blood I found. The pad that I had put on minutes ago was completely saturated. I picked up a newspaper and shoved it down hoping that it would absorb some of the blood. I couldn’t call my mom but I realized I needed help. None of my friends from the area picked up and so I called my college roommate and told the first, of a series of lies I would later tell about that night.

Jane avoids eye contact as she talks about covering up the rape and saying it was consented. She explains that at the time she was too afraid of the reaction she would yield by telling the truth and how she thought things would get resolved in a smoother way if she abstained from telling the whole story.

It is very common for rape victims to feel shame and in some cases to even blame themselves for what happened to them. This is a direct result of the social construction that surrounds rape culture in which victims are often questioned about their behavior or appearance prior to the rape. These types of questions imply that the victim could have done something different to avoid the sexual assault and thus create feelings of guilt and shame. Some victims even have testimonies of people close to them asking, “Why didn’t you scream or fight?” and again unknowingly placing some of the blame on the victims lap.

I would later find out that my roommate never believed me when I said it was consented sex, but at the time it didn’t matter since she just wanted me to get medical attention ASAP. She found me a cab and I told him I urgently needed to get to the nearest hospital. The driver didn’t say much and avoided eye contact. My eyes had become extremely swollen after all the crying and I was sure I was going to leave a blood stain on his seat. I did but he didn’t say anything, I don’t think he knew how to deal with me.

I didn’t realize that the hospital he dropped me off was for Veterans only, which meant that they would not help me. I realized the cab driver never gave me back my card so this hospital had to be IT. I didn’t have the means nor the time to get to another one but the receptionist didn’t care and asked me to go stand outside.

Jane curses as she talks about the people at the hospital, who could see her blood drenched pants and frantic face but still decided not to help her. Her voice breaks as she describes the feeling of doom and helplessness that she felt in that moment. She takes a deep breath and wipes off her tear stained cheeks.

A doctor saw me crying on the floor and said the single most perfect sentence I could have heard in that moment “Im going to help you, what do you need?” He didn’t ask what had happened, or if I was ok. Questions I didn’t want to answer and questions that wouldn’t resolve anything. He gave me a ride on his truck and took me to a hospital nearby in which his wife was the head nurse. He spoke to her on the phone and promised me I would be in good hands. I stained his truck seat and when I tried to apologize he said, “Sweetie, don’t worry about anything else but yourself from now on, promise?”I wanted to hug him, I wanted to tell him that he might have just saved my life. I wanted to say so much to this stranger that had shown me a kindness I’d forgotten could exist, but I was only able to slur a “thank you” in between sobs.

Jane walked into the second hospital at 8 am and passed out minutes later because of the blood loss. She was admitted regardless of the paperwork she wasn’t able to fill out. The doctors gave her fluids and something to stop the bleeding until she woke up an hour later.

I lied again to the people in the hospital and said I consented and that I didn’t want to call anyone. The nurse frowned and asked if I authorized them to collect a rape kit before they did anything else. I said ok.

A rape kit is a recollection of samples from the body that may contain the abusers DNA or show signs of physical violence. The procedure also includes a pregnancy test, pelvic exam and ultrasound. The procedure must be done as close to the incident as possible in order to be able to preserve the evidence. A rape kit is preserved by the hospital and should aid a victim who decides to press charges. Jane’s rape kit maintains preserved at the hospital she was admitted into even after 4 years. Jane refuses to press charges and doesn’t think the rape kit with the evidence can stand up to a powerful family and an easily persuaded judge.

I mean I’m sure you heard about what happened with Brock Turner, there were witnesses, evidence and a good part of the country watching that demanded justice for the victim. And yet, he still got off with a slap on the wrist because he was a white, privileged athlete. It’s fucking tragic.

I’ll be at a party and at least 5 of the girls in the room will be survivors of sexual assault, that I know of. Yet, I’m never at a party or in a group of people where I can identify someone as an assaulter and it’s because society makes it really hard to prosecute your rapist. It’s not an easy process and legal help is not easily accessible. It’s not something people want to hear and for a while I felt like it was better to remain quiet.

It took me month to talk about, years to tell my parents. Sometimes I ended up feeling worst after I told my story. Many, after hearing about the rape kit, urged me to prosecute because otherwise my rapist would rape again. That type of comments made me feel guilty for not pressing charges and made me feel responsible for all the horrible things my rapist could be doing because of me. It’s taken me a long time to feel at peace with my decision not to prosecute. It’s not up to me to grant anyone justice and specially with a system that values it’s individuals because of their monetary value or the color of their skin.

After Jane underwent all the medical procedures, the source of the bleeding was identified as a severe uterine laceration that required a surgical procedure. Jane’s operation was successful without any complications but she would later face an enormous financial burden because the medicals bills were not covered by her insurance and now with the diminishing Obama care, Jane is struggling to find healthcare that doesn’t label her mental illnesses as pre existing conditions.

My heart really did break when the doctors told me they needed to stitch me up from the inside. I don’t know, I just thought wow, this person literally tore me in half. There’s a very tangible before and after because of that night. I continue to discover ways in which something I thought I could just lie about and make go away continues to affect me. Even now, in a loving relationship and with a partner I trust, my vagina closes up during sex sometimes. The doctor’s say it’s a result from the trauma and muscle memory. I feel out of control a lot of the time because I’m easily triggered into a panic attack or an anger outburst and I hate that I don’t feel like a person that can function normally. For a while I was always crying or angry or numb, and who the fuck wants to be around that all the time?

The people that have been supportive and understanding have really made all the difference but I still think we as a society are not equipped to deal with rape and it’s because we don’t talk about it enough and in enough depth.

Jane stands up and crouches on top of the mirror once again. She pulls up her skirt and lowers her head.

That’s why it blows my mind that I can’t see the scar. I don’t know if the doctors did a great job and it doesn’t even exist or maybe it’s way too deep inside me. I search and think about the scar in an almost obsessive way, it’s weird. I did read somewhere that your skin completely renews every 7 years, and who knows if it’s even true. But maybe in 3 years all traces of him will be gone from my life and I’ll accept that the scar has healed and I’ll stop looking for it.

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grupoaxo · 7 years

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Jane’s Story

Jane, 24, is a survivor of a very violent sexual assault that required urgent medical attention. She since then developed PTSD, severe depression and spent a week in a psychiatric ward because of a suicide attempt. Jane was privileged enough to have had access to medical attention and psychiatric attention under Medicaid, but unfortunately this is not always the case for victims and the Trump administration threatens the little available healthcare even more. It’s been four years now since the assault and Jane is doing her best to continue to heal although she can’t afford therapy anymore because she lost her Medicaid and the defunding of Planned Parenthood (which offers group therapy to rape survivors and counseling). Rape may not be something we are able to prevent, but we can improve the way we approach it by understanding and recognizing how heavily it impacts a person both physically and psychologically.

I can’t see it. I’ve never been able to see it, and I think that’s fucking crazy

Jane says with a sheepish smile, nodding her head, as she pulls down her dress and takes a sit on the floor next to a pile of laundry.

I think it might not be visible anymore, but I remember looking for it a few days after it happened and I couldn’t find the scar then either.

The gleam in Jane’s eyes seems to dissipate and her look becomes somber as she talks about her best friend. She continues to wrap the shoelace around her finger, pulling it and making it tighter.

This is for sure anonymous right? The names, my voice and everything will be altered so it can’t be traced to me right? Just call me Jane Doe.

I nod but before I can answer Jane claps her hands in front of her chin and takes another deep breath. She quickly wipes her lower eyelid with her finger.

Jane stands up and crouches on top of the mirror once again. She pulls up her skirt and lowers her head.

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