#my therapist: for an ego boost. me: yeah but why???

[usedtobemygirl]

my therapist keeps trying to explain that men can lie and manipulate to get what they want and i still don’t get it. like i know they do.. but like why?

[pyrodolls]

can you write sounding with one of the yan boys or ignoring them because of something?

GIVING SUPERFAN! AND STALKER! YANDERE BOYS THE COLD SHOULDER HCS

WARNINGS: obsessiveness, sfw, some slight su!c!de references, bayani is basically a servant and victor needs a therapist, just overall unhealthy behavior cuz they're yanderes. (i do not condone yanderes irl and this is for writing purposes) gender neutral reader, no use of y/n.

A/N: hey guys i just found out my best friend might be dating my ex bf (that made me hide in my house for a year) which is funny bc he told me "not to worry about her" while we were dating. and my birthday is in 2 hours so it's quite an unfortunate time to find out that they've apparently been dating for a few months. if it's true, then whatever LMFAOOO now she's gotta deal with him and it ain't my problem. also thanks for 1k followers, you guys are awesome!! sorry for not updating much, i just don't have a lot of motivation these days

if you ignored bayani...

bro do you *want* him to jump off a cliff???

he is panicking. he is having a CRISIS

bayani lives to please you. if he's talking to you and you just ignored him for whatever reason, he would be heartbroken. absolutely crushed.

he would attempt to ask what's wrong, and fix it as soon as possible. as much as he enjoys being mistreated by you, he'd hate for you to be upset with him for an extended period of time.

his first instinct is to fix whatever he did wrong. he would automatically blame himself, even if it wasn't actually his fault.

he always seeks your love and validation. if you were to ignore him, he would literally sink into the floor and die.

if you forgive him and stop ignoring him, he would be overjoyed. and he'd be less clingy, and a lot more careful around you. he wouldn't want you to get mad at him ever again. that would be his worst nightmare. if you want him to return to his old self, let him know he can be clingy again. if you don't, he'll remain cautious around you for the rest of his life. he just wants you to be happy with him. he can hold himself back from showing too much affection if it means you'll approve of him.

if you ignored victor...

yeah no he's not having it lmao

he'd be so butthurt. and unlike bayani, victor would be very annoying and start hanging around you more. usually he lets you do the talking, or follows you around from a far distance. but if you started ignoring him, he'd become more talkative just to piss you off.

he hates being ordered around, so he's not gonna let you stop him from interacting with you. he's gonna keep talking to you and hanging around you no matter what.

it'd take about a week for him to get agitated. he'd wonder what he did wrong, and try to ignore his insecurities by pushing them on you. instead of drowning in his sorrow, he'd turn it into anger and blame you. you're the one being unreasonable, he did nothing wrong. of course he doesn't believe that, but that's what he would convince himself. he would rather take his anger out on you, the love of his life, rather than admit how unhappy he is with himself and how he treats others.

he'd find ways to punish you for your behavior. as much as he loves you, he won't accept any disrespect. he takes it as a huge blow to his (very fragile) ego.

BUT if you gave up and started talking to him again, he'd get a huge ego boost. of course you'd talk to him again, he's just irresistible! this was totally expected... even though he was crying in his bedroom every night wondering why you weren't talking to him and got very insecure, wondering what he did to make you mad at him. would he ever confess this, though? nope.

he's too prideful to admit that he missed your voice and attention, but he'd show how sorry he is by helping you with chores and work. if you bring it up, he'll say something along the lines of: "i'm not doing this because i'm sorry... i just think you weren't doing it right. i know how to do it better."

this insecure and bratty ass man child would rather sit naked on a hot grill than verbally say sorry lmao

[your-local-hoemie]

Imagine our favorite gingers with a constantly sleepy s/o T-T s/o just casually falling asleep on a chair during a social event coz her social battery is non existent (this is so me)

-🐢anon

Somehow tumblr is exposing my red flags better than what my therapist did, how ya’ll outing me like this 💀

Also hELLO! Yesyesyes our favourite ginger snacks are bACK!

I legit had to do this instead of catching up with Genshin because I was doing Heizou’s hangout quest and bro had me giggling and kicking my legs istg Hoyo knew what the fuck they were doing with him and I can’t handle it.

Warnings: fluff, swearing, established relationship, gn!reader, not-proof read.

Characters: Childe, Thoma.

Childe~

Dude finds it funny

Seriously had to hold back from teasing you about it 24/7 and it’s starting to break him

Ego boost 2000

At first he was very concerned!

Thought you died again 2.0

Kept asking if you were hungry or sleeping alright since he legit thought you weren’t taking care of yourself

Which you probably wasn’t knowing ya’ll, drink some damn water.

But when you told him it was just because your social battery was akin to a decomposing gummy worm, he immediately started laughing

Him being a extrovert makes it kinda hard for him to understand why social events are exhausting for you

Even if it’s just like 30 minutes

Even so, he loves his baby and will absolutely make sure to be prepared!

Always has something on him that can double as a pillow!

If he forgets it or can’t find anything then he’ll lean you against his arm or lap

He’s so casual about it too 💀

Unless he’s feeling like a lil’ shit and decides to tease you.

If you’re embarrassed about it or feel insecure about not keeping up with his ungodly amount of energy then he’ll be quick to put your mind at ease!

There’s nothing you could do that would make this man embarrassed by you

Gets suuuper cocky and proud when people look at you snoozing away against him

Mans just like-

“Yeah, I know you wish you were me right now”

If someone complains or gets annoyed by it then well

I think we all know the drill by now

He’ll help them take a nice nap too

Permanently

Or at least make em wish they could take the forever nap

Sometimes if the event or meeting is super boring which it usually is for him he’ll get lost staring at your face and admiring all your pretty features~

Ends up feeling bad when he has to wake you up but loves seeing your groggy face change from confused to panic within seconds

Usually ends up with you hitting him because he didn’t wake you up

Which usually ends up accidentally encouraging him to take you home so you can “rest” in bed >;)

Thoma~

You’re so lucky omg you have no idea

He got so concerned when he noticed you acting kinda off during a outing during one of his days off

Boy kept a super close eye on you and made sure you all stopped to eat just because he thought you had forgot to eat ;-;

when you ended up falling asleep on his shoulder he was fROZEN

Like you know when an animal falls asleep on you and you legally can’t move?

That

He panicked

After he tried slightly nudging you he simply just accepted his fate

After this happens a couple more times he eventually figured it out!

He’s good at being social given his close relationship with the Kamisato clan but he prefers keeping to himself a lot

So he’d definitely be able to understand!!

Knows how to help you recharge quickly too!!

He also grew used to you taking naps randomly when your energy was completely used up and prepared for it~

Very similar to Childe in that aspect!

Though he’s get too flustered to let you lay on his lap in public jkfjdkdkk

When it’s time to go he’ll wake you up by softly kissing your cheek or brushing it with his finger while gentle sitting you up

Doesn’t even give you a reason to feel insecure about it!

He’s so sweet and gentle that he’s just naturally comforting to be around

Always reassures you even if he thinks there’s even a slight chance of you feeling guilty ;-;

Occasionally calls you his sleepy angel if you’re being particularly cute!

If anyone gets mad about it he’ll simply tell them that if it’s annoying then you can both just leave

Has zero patience with anyone who dares to get mad at you for things you can’t help

When you both get home after a draining day he’ll make sure you’re all nice and tucked up in bed while he makes dinner

Please show him how much you appreciate him istg this boy is so precious

Look at me being productive uwu

Seriously how do people have the energy to just be social and not pass out the first chance you get it genuinely scares me-

[fantasy-frog]

Recovery Journal Entry #3

About progress after highly traumatic event. All journal entries are tagged #recovery journal

Aim is to be record of personal growth and to provide catharsis from sharing into the void. Also: maybe be seen by someone who has gone through similar, or is going through similar, and can feel camaraderie. Disabled people are lovable. No matter how we may be treated.

Many content warnings apply, specifically disability-related trauma as an over-arching theme. Brutal honesty ahead. About the situation and my own self-perception.

It’s been a bit over a month since the “big abandonment”. The whole: ex breaks up with me morning after I experience a dislocation in my back (while bent over plating dinner for them while they sat and watched) which rendered me reliant on them for general survival and care. I had to be dragged about like a rag doll, and eventually crawled on all fours to my bed, the entire process from getting from the floor downstairs to my bed taking approximately 7 hours.

Honestly the more details i give the worse it gets. To the point I feel extreme shame. I almost pissed myself from the pain, crying on the floor. I was supposed to be on bedrest. But they broke up with me while I laid in bed the next day, naked and yeah: afraid. Literally naked and afraid. Whole family on a different continent on vacation, terrified of how I was going to feed myself. Take care of myself. They had to help me walk to the bathroom right before the breakup. Like I laid down from bathroom trip and boom. They had to literally help me sit down on the seat. Gone, and didn’t look back. And terribly afraid for my own safety, I was alone.

I blame myself. I have a long trend of being uncomfortable with people who genuinely care about me, or want to help me. As a side effect, I avoid those who show genuine selfless interest, and pursue romantic and platonic relationships with those who I feel like can be the center piece of the dynamic, while I fade into the background. I prefer taking care, not being taken care of. My family have been the only ones who know how hard I struggle. They have taken care of me so much. I have lived in terror of another person baring witness to me in that state. And it happened. And it was one of the most traumatizing experiences of my life.

It’s an ego boost, when you’ve struggled with independence your whole life, to feel like people need you, not the other way around. Honestly: it’s a form of using people. I take this accountability. I date people who want me to be their therapist, do their laundry, make them dinner, book their appointments, clean their messes, always being there, always doing, always fixing, always serving, with nothing in return. On and on and on and on.

I am more comfortable acting like someone’s mother than someone’s equal. This has been all three of my relationships. And all three breakups, were in part due to my disability. All my exes knew, by what I verbally told them, how bad it was. My diagnoses were clear and information was forthcoming. I just took great care that they never saw, as much as I could hide.

Look at how independent I am! Look how useful! Look at how little I need! You’ll be gone by the time I break, unawares, back at your place, while I crumble. So what’s it to you? At least I seem capable. At least I seem lovable. Why would you want to leave me when I’m so helpful. Maybe, I can respect myself, love myself, if I just do a little more, sacrifice a bit more.

I’m done. I’m done. Having the fear of god struck into me, partially by my own making; the flashbacks, the sobbing, the fucking depression. The sheer fucking trauma. The sleepless nights. Waking up from nightmares even over a month later. Of being left. Abandoned.

I’ve got to get my shit together.

I dated an ass who knew I was already physically disabled, and unwell, who plopped food in front of me and sat there, sitting, waiting for me to present it to them on a literal platter. Who complained I didn’t do the laundry fast enough, meanwhile my shoulder was still recovering from two previous dislocations over the past month and a half. They had already shown signs of not being there for me, not giving a shit when I asked for support. Relying on me for their needs to a severe extent but being actually cruel when asked to do so in return.

How perfect for me! Someone who can see me as strong, and capable. Maybe they’ll ignore my disability this way. Maybe they’ll respect me, this way. Sure, I asked them to be better. I expressed my discomfort. But I didn’t leave. Because in reality, I chose this. And the alternative: someone who loves me truly, and wants to be there for me equally as much as I am for them, scares the fucking shit out of me.

I’m angry. I’m angry with them, but primarily with myself. This is a huge realization I’ve made about myself, brand spanking new as of a few days ago, and I plan to rebuild my life from the foundations up accordingly.

I don’t want to be a perpetual self-enabled and self-made victim. I know I am objectively a victim of my ex’s actions, but I am also a victim of myself. My inability to love myself. Accept myself. Believe I deserve love. I’m a victim most of all of my supreme avoidance of vulnerability that isn’t concocted or planned, to make me seem vulnerable when I’m not. I am a victim of my own internalized ableism, inherited from how I was raised, which persists as a subconscious resentment and fear of abandonment to such a severe extent that I pursue people who treat me like shit to feel safe and pathologically avoid those who treat me well in return.

I still am staying up at night wondering if they’ll ever apologize, or go out of their way to even check if I’m still alive. But I need to remind myself: that isn’t the point. I deserve love. They weren’t it. But I deserve love from myself first and foremost. Not for how useful I am to other people, or how much I can prove to myself I’m not “actually disabled”. I deserve love for my humanity. Just cause I’m alive. And because I try my best.

Reminder to my future self, or even a disabled person, who might read this maybe someday. Maybe my future kid, cause I know I’ll save these journals-

You deserve love. No matter your struggles. No matter how many times someone has made you feel you don’t. No matter how many doctors have gaslit the shit out of you, how many friends and family have let you down, how many people have stared or gawked or commented. You deserve love. You will be loved. You are loved. And never give up. You know what you deserve. Deep inside. Fucking fight for it.

[megbonney]

me after remembering (again) that my only place in any kind of relationship platonic or not is to harbor everyone elses issues and be the therapist and have to mother everyone else around me but it's suddenly surprising when i don't talk about my issues because why would i want to when i should just deal with them myself right bc if i'm the motherfucka everyone wants to traumadump to then i guess i'm alright to just talk to myself right?? and that i'm just the 'funny friend' until something better comes along and i try to introduce people to each other yet i'm always the one left in the dust bc am i really as likeable as everyone says i am if i can't keep anyone? is it rlly worth having friends if i live in constant impostor syndrome because i hold onto my individuality so dear considering anyone i've had close has tried to become me in one way or another and now i can't handle the thought of losing myself all because someone else wants to be me because who even am i if so? i can't take a compliment bc i'm so average and so dumb and so talentless and i have to congratulate everyone else in my life and give them the ego boost they so desperately crave but the minute i achieve anything i get a half assed good job? but i'm smart and talented and resourceful the minute someone needs to use me? it's always 'so weird' that i don't like having anyone close to me yet no one bothers to see it from my fucking perspective do they because...why would they? no one knows what it's like for me nor do they care because i'm simply a replaceable fucking object and the minute you don't need me anymore i just go the fuck away and that's it? i got a bit distracted and went on a different tangent which will stay in the drafts but yeah me when

[jade-marie]

why don’t you like manny’s wife?

Hmmm… for a multitude of reasons, really. Her shadiness online isn’t one of them. I actually find that pretty amusing and I don’t think it was as big a deal as people make it out to be. In general, I think we have personalities that would massively clash, in a real life setting, because we have very conflicting views and approach situations differently.

One issue for me, is how she’s become since Manny’s profile has grown. It kinda reminds me of when I was a kid (I was an army brat) and you’d have officer’s wives who would “wear their husband’s rank”. Effectively, this just means that having a husband with status gives them an ego boost and they walk around acting as though it’s their achievement.

She’s got a bit of a following on Instagram, as a result of being married to an actor, and this gave her the platform to launch her business. But she acts as though this platform was something she grew, organically, through hard work and not that it was a byproduct of her husband’s fame. To me, it comes across like she tries to distance herself from being “Manny Montana’s wife” and feel like she’s got an identity outside of that, and I get it, I really do. But the way she does it irks me. Like she’ll usually mention him in a caption as “my husband” as if the majority of her audience don’t follow her because of him.

The biggest cause of my dislike is her life coaching business. People can disagree with me on this, and that’s absolutely fine. I find the whole life coaching thing incredibly unethical, especially because she’s got no formal qualifications or mental health training, yet her rates are comparable to those of a licensed therapist.

At one point, after George Floyd’s death, she started offering “donated” services to BIPOC - except they weren’t donated by her. She was having other people make donations, which she then claimed would be used to offer free services to BIPOC. There wasn’t really any accountability, she didn’t say how much she was aiming to raise or how much would go directly to those services, and there was no way to see whether the services had been donated. There was nothing charitable about it on her part, she was still making a huge profit but benefiting from this false pretence of altruism.

I could go on about it for ages but yeah, I just don’t agree with the business model and I don’t see how you can justify charging the same as a licensed psychologist for some hippy dippy “advice” via text message.

[jimilter]

what that anon means is you're not that good of a writer for people to follow but you know your way around. friends connections cliques to boost you n ur ego. vice versa. kiss their ass you kiss theirs back. it is fascinating! all the tumblr politics

Not a single doubt in my mind that you're the same anon with a different typography. Why? Because I don't believe you're useless enough to support another useless idiot's uselessness. Or...are you? Whoops. 🤡

Putting aside the illogical aspects for later, I wanna first discuss a very important question I always come back to: why the obsession with me? I mean, I'm flattered you observe me closely enough to take note of all the apparent "ass kissing" I do, but seriously. If you're not literate enough to really understand my writing (because you would fucking pee your pants before calling it "not that good" if you weren't illiterate, my guy), why come here at all, kid?

Is it perhaps... Jealousy? That no one notices you? Or wants to talk to you? Or, like, takes interest in your life? So you wanna tell me what you think are facts about me and feel good about it? Oh, my. 😔

Or maybe you're so supremely useless in life that this is the best use of your time for you. Huh. Extremely sad, but not incurable. No, I'm not judging, just observing. Will talk about a cure at the end, alright?

For now, time to move to the logic analysis of your very overconfident statements: the point made by the previous Dick Anon was that "people don't follow me for my writing." Which implies that there is another reason why they follow me. Which, by your logic, translates to wanting to be my..."friend, connection and clique," did you call it? So by your spectacular claim, you're trying to tell me my 4-digits follower count just wants to learn the ropes of ass kissing from me so that they can make friends too. Right?

Oh, wow...

Tell me honestly, anon, are you projecting, honey? Is ass kissing the only way for you to make friends in your life? Is that why you don't understand friendships?

Okay, I don't wanna psychoanalyze you, that's your therapist's job. (I hope you have one bec you need one, my guy.) I just want to pray for your sanity in the real world, kid.

Because my concern is how much important you've made Tumblr in your life. Like. It's an anonymous platform of anonymous people who write fanfiction for a group of real men they'll never meet irl. Do you realize what that sounds like in the real world? Embarrassing and delusional. Five people here know my face and three of them know my voice bec I truly want to remain inconspicuous and not be found writing smut by potential future employers, thank you. "Tumblr politics" like seriously? What are you, a third grader?

Go out and look at the world around you, kid. Real problems and real issues need resolving. Inflation is fucking insane and people still don't have a Covid-19 medicine that is fully inert. Do not let your braincells melt away by stalking me like a hawk, go to school and become a normal human. And that's the cure for your demented view of the world. Education. Honestly, it works like magic and cures everything! Try it, sometime.

After you're educated enough, maybe you'll be good enough to understand my immaculate writing? I have my doubts but I'm nothing but generous with my kindness, so I'll hold out hope for you. Yeah.

Gotta go back to studying bec I feel like I have to be literate enough for both of us, kid. Quick, stop being illiterate so I can stop worrying about you!

[sevendeadlymorons]

Hey I’m that one anon from a while back that sent those long ass paragraphs about Lilith and Simeon, remember me? Anyway I know I’m very late to the party, but some of the boys are either getting to much hate or too much love over here (in my opinion) so I made a pros and cons list for all of them, I’m sorry- (I’m warning you now this will be long but I’ll put it in bullet points so it’s a bit easier to read, just read it whenever your mentally ready lol)

Lucifer (I hate this man.)

Pros

He’d help a lot with getting your life together wether that be finding a job, choosing the right college or other shit like that

He’d make sure your working hard and getting everything done, which is both a blessing and a curse tbh

He would be the one to take the most care of you whenever your ill psychically

Cons

He would probably overwork you

Doesnt have much time to spend on you and doesn’t make a effort to find more time unless your getting really sad about it

Probably wouldn’t be the best of help through issues with mental illness (he just doesn’t strike me as that type, feel free to disagree)

His pride would cause some serious problems in relationships :/

Mammon (I love this man.)

Pros

He’s the “if your sad, I’m sad” kind of guy so he does whatever he can to put a smile on your face

Makes his affection towards you known once he’s comfortable enough, mostly through things like hugs and head pats tho

He shows off anything you make, and I mean anything (you gave him a drawing? After showing it to everyone he puts it on the fridge. You wrote something? He reads it to everyone then puts it in his notebook to reread later, I think you get where I’m going with this)

Cons

There would probably be some communication issues due to his tsundere nature and habit of ignoring you when he’s mad

He’d get super mad at you when your trying to help him financially, maybe it’s a ego thing or maybe he’s just tired of hearing it

While his possessiveness is cute at times he’d definitely get way to overbearing if you don’t force him to cool it

Levi (I kin this man.)

Pros

He’d try to set up designated hangout times (like Friday is movie night, Tuesday is for RPGs etc)

Wanna spend time with him but aren’t very into what he’s into? While it will be harder to bond with him because of this I think if you REALLY wanted to hang with him he’d at least try to meet you in the middle (like if you like sports he’ll offer to play wii sports lol)

Insecurities getting you down again? Well never fear, levi is here! He’d find characters with flaws similar to those you see in yourself to prove that they don’t really matter (and since he struggles with insecurity himself he’d know how you feel and be one of the best at helping you through them)

Cons

Even if he makes an effort to meet you in the middle if you have different interests he’d refuse to get into “normie” stuff

He’ll guilt trip you constantly, even if it’s not on purpose (“Oh your hanging out with Asmo today? I get it, of course you’d wanna hang out with somebody cool and perfect like Asmo and not a gross yucky otaku like me”)

You have to initiate almost everything Hugs? You hug first. Handholding? You reach out to him. Confessions? You seriously thought he’d be the one to confess first??

Satan

Pros

Similar to Lucifer he’d be good at helping you get your life together and putting you on the right track

Unlike Lucifer, he’d actively make time for date nights and/or hangouts multiple times a week wether your going out for dinner or reading in front of the fireplace

While he himself might not be best at helping with comfort in the moment, he’d be great to turn to if you needed a long time treatment (you need a therapist? He’s got the best three in your area that you can afford and he found some helpful things you can do in this book)

Cons

As stated previously, he’s not the best with comfort, which can be an issue if you need a friend/partner who can be your biggest source of comfort (I’m not saying he’ll do nothing, it’ll just be kinda awkward ig)

If you vent to him about something he’ll always offer advice and while that can be good, sometimes all you want is someone to listen to you and getting advice can be annoying in the moment

I feel like hanging out with him you’d rarely ever get to talk about pointless things, everything would be serious you know? And while serious and deep conversations are good for bonding, some people (myself included) need to be able to talk about dumb things without having it turn philosophical

Asmo

Pros

He’s the best at boosting your confidence, there’s no competition

He’s more into spontaneous outings (he suddenly got the urge to go shopping, your coming with right?)

You can talk about just about anything with him, no judgment and he’ll never speak a word of it to anyone else if you don’t want him to (although he may brag to his brothers that you told him your secrets)

High emotional IQ

Cons

He has set things of things he’s interested in and his idea of trying the things your into is doing whatever it is for about 5 seconds then deciding it’s not for him

He cares a lot about looks, I don’t mean he’ll hate you or insult you cause he thinks your ugly, I mean he’ll constantly try to do your makeup, hair, and nails and he’ll always say things like “Your hair is a bit messy today, did you brush it? Yes? Well not good enough, let me do it” and “your wearing that out? There’s nothing wrong with it, I just think you’d look a lot cuter in this” and if your anything like me, that’ll get on your nerves a lot

While he’s great with emotional issues, if it’s a problem with anything like school or your job he’ll have no solution to offer, all you’ll get is a “You can do it!” and a good luck kiss

Narcissistic, need I say more?

Beel

Pros

He’s the best person to vent to, no judgment and tons of hugs and comfort food

He’s a mom friend, no explanation needed

Very supportive and always concerned for your health

Your in trouble? Call beel, he’ll help you and make sure your home safe before questioning you and will only lecture you out of love (unlike a certain older brother that will lecture you because “Your tarnishing Diavlo’s reputation by acting out like this. Your an exchange student, you must abide by the rules and behave yourself.”)

Cons

Food is his answer to everything (Sad?Food. Injured? Food. School’s stressful? Food plus a little help studying) and while food can be good for comfort, sometimes you need him to provide more than a snack

He’s the opposite of Satan in the sense that he’ll almost never offer advice when you rant to him, he just assumes getting it all out is help enough and won’t offer much more then a hug and food

Not getting along with one of his brothers? “They can be a handful, but they’re great people once you learn to handle the chaos” yeah he rarely thinks what his brothers did is a big deal so he gives you advice on how to apologize and get past it and he’ll give you food

Belphie (he really does attract the mentally ill people huh-)

Cons

I feel like he’d be good for certain people with social anxiety and people who have issues with always being scared about being a bad person (“you think your a bad person and are becoming more and more toxic by the day? Well your a better person than Lucifer that’s for sure, wether or not your toxic were going to cuddle now get in bed” or “your worried everyone is constantly staring and judging you for everything you do? Well I don’t really care about what your wearing or the way you walk so I doubt they do either, can we go home now?” ((Side note, I experience both of these issues and his uncaring personality would calm me, which is why I think this one of his pros))

He just wouldn’t care about whatever type of life style you lead and as someone who’s constantly scared of being judged for their lifestyle this would be amazing (“you sleep all the time? Same let’s nap together” “You don’t eat very healthy? Whatever, it’s fine, can we sleep now?” ((although it is a double edged sword))

He gets a burst of energy and just does the most random things (you see that tree? He’s already climbed half way up it. That petting zoo? He’s already feeding the lambs. That store? He’s already spent 30 grim)

Cons

Just like his twin he thinks every problem has one solution, but instead of food he thinks the solution is sleep (your sick? Sleep is the best medicine. A lot of homework? If you sleep you don’t have to think about it.)

At some point he just doesn’t care enough, if you come to him with a serious issue he’ll half listen to you rant then pull you down to sleep

He teases you a lot, which is fine teasing is fun, but he takes it too far. Maybe he touched on something your insecure about or he was too merciless, whatever it was, he won’t apologize for it, he just thinks your being sensitive. If he brought up some bad memories he’ll consider it, but his way of apologizing is cuddling

He doesn’t wanna do something? You guys aren’t gonna do it. You don’t wanna do something? Too bad, he wants to so your gonna.

I’m sorry this is so long- I tried to shorten it I swear- but anyway if you disagree I’m with anything, I wanna hear what you think

And even tho Beel doesn’t get much screen time and more serious moments, I think his character is way more then hunger

Random but I wanna add that other then Levi I kin Tamaki from mha and Ranpo from bsd

Dude do you just like torturing poor college students? This is so much to read, I’m about to cry 😭

I agree with the Lucifer part actually! Tho I do kinda thing he’s be good emotion support in some ways, for me, anyway. I feel like he may lack empathy that is needed in a stable relationship. Yes, he may be able to tell you with shit and honestly, he’d book my doctors appointments when I’m too anxious too so yknow. But yeah

Also agree with mammon. He’s a jackass when he wants to be, and I know he may not mean it, but his words are still hurtful in a lot of ways and he just can’t convey those emotions that’re needed in a loving relationship. But he’s so sweet and will show you off so it’s all good~

As much as I love Levi, I agree. He manipulates and guilt trips you throughout the entire game. It can’t be healthy in relationships but that don’t stop me from loving that sweet otaku boy 😔🖤

I agree with Satan too. I don’t have much to say but he’s avatar of wrath for a reason, for a start, and he honestly looks like he’d prefer talking about books than that funny thing that happened in class that made you laugh earlier

Agreed with Asmo too. Sometimes he may just get overbearing and the narcissism and the constant need to make you look better and improve you may get irritating

I agree with Beel. I don’t think he can comprehend that food isn’t an answer to everything and as a person who doesn’t cope with food and relatively hates it, he won’t be any help to me emotionally. He’s so sweet but he just won’t give you that proper support

I love Belphie so so much but I absolutely agree. He’s one of the most unbothered brothers who won’t care what you look like, yes, but that also means compliments may come rarely and like his twin, “sleep is the answer to everything” I can admit I like to sleep but I have a manic side that comes with insomnia and if he’s dragging me down and not letting me move and I just cannot sleep, I’m gonna get irritated and pissed off.

This got a bit long on my end too. I just really liked how you worded this and it was fun to see pros and cons of the ‘perfect’ brothers

I think Beel is more than food too, but I just don’t particularly like him either way cuz I’m not really a foodie so I can’t relate with him lmao

[randomshenaniganery]

If I somehow got into Obey me! Shall We Date part 2

Me and Levi while videoing Solomon: I wanna be the very best like no one ever was, to catch them is my real test to train them is my caUSe. My whole life was meant for this gonna show the wORLLD!!

M: Horny bastard literally and figuratively

M: So like for science do you have complete control over that tail? The fandom deems this as important knowledge

M: BARBATOS PLEASE COSPLAY AS SEBASTIAN MICHAELIS-yeah I know I call you him a lot but like PLEASE

M: Kuya from Ayakashi Romance Reborn is just what happens if you smush Beel and Belphie into one person

M: Beel... Look at your wings... They’re tiny... If you can actually fly I will single handedly try to murder God.

M: I don’t understand why you’re mad with all these pregnant jokes, I MEAN YOU GUYS TOLD ME THIS INFORMATION and think that I won’t use it????

M: Heaven is pretty controversial not gonna lie

M: Luke you are a baby not just cause your smol but because you think like a baby

M: HEY remember what I said about racism? Knock it off

M: Why do you like me? Like honestly just WHy

M: LMAo who thought that leaving me alive was a good idea

M: Levi I blame you for making me say LMAo outloud I used to only say lol or IDK 

M: I do have a least favorite brother but I’m not telling who because it would cause the same problems saying who my favorite brother is 

M: YOU FAKE MOTHERFUCKERs 

M: Sometimes I think I’m more of a demon than you guys are

M: I made a meme I think I’m going to die after this but I’m going to be very proud about dying and then I’ll see you later cause bitches know I’m going to end up in hell anyway

M: Is this real life? or is this fantasy? 

Me and Levi still videoing Solomon but now we’re all dancing and singing: Gotta catch’em all-gotta catch’em ALL POKEMON 

M: Satan for confirmation are you or are you not a furry? wait no put that knife down-

M: Beel please be my model for this drawing I have thanksiloveyoubye

M: Beel is definitely in my top three faves list you just have to figure out WHERe he is in that list

M: Levi I fucking told you to stop GATEKEEPing

M: What the fuck are you listening to Lucifer

M: I legit can’t listen to 40% of the songs I have in my playlist because they mention demons and I’m too embarrassed to listen to them now

M: Levi please let me sleep in your tub it honest to God looks so comfy-stop making faces when I mention God you KNOW that I’m atheist

M: Asmo hi please do my nails idk self care who dat bitch

M: ugh I have feelings and I HATE It

M: Am I a kuudere or a tsundere? I can’t tell but if it’s the latter I’m going to commit sui-wait no I’ll still end up in hell FUCK

M: I would never kiss anyone oh you’ll pay me? YOu never said where bitch-

M: I’m not greedy I’m just broke

M: See mammon gets it

M: Levi if you pay me I will draw Henry for you

M: Oh my god I’m henry 

M: Diavolo please let me adopt the giant snake in your labyrinth

M: Solomon I’m going to carefully watch you while you cook so that I can understand on what level can you fuck up food so bad

M: OH MY GOD ITS ALIVE

M: If I ate that apple I’m going to kill my clone because there can only be one

M: I really think that I’m more demon than you guys are 

M: Mass murder isn’t wrong if it’s in the name of God says the bible-stop it Luke I’m making a joke

M: Simeon tell me on what level of friendship do I get to call Lucifer Lucy

M: Satan there is literally no way for me to give you a new nickname

M: the angrier you get the more like Lucifer you sound so-HEY DON”T FLIP THE TABLE MY ONION RINGS

M: Belphie if you want humanity to die just make them all so lazy no one will ever get up 

M: I swear to God that I will not wake up the demon king-okay fine mentioning God’s name doesn’t actually make it more sincere fucking-

M: if any of you look at my reddit history its either I die or you die

M: Bleach is a very powerful weapon

M: Who the fuck designed your demon clothes

M: God is kinky confirmed

M: I want humans to know the existance of demons but I also don’t want Diavolo to be exposed to the horny ones-no I did not mean that literally

M: I know he’s supposed to be the Prince of Hell but I can’t stop visualizing him as a cuddly large demon teddy bear

M: I’m so mad that there aren’t that many stray cats in devildom What’s the fuck point

M: Barbatos if I give you a recipe will you finally answer that question about being a sadist or a masochist? No? goddamit

M: I was going to say goddamn you but clearly he already has

M: I’m going to contact a family therapist

M: Beel please carry me I want to feel tall for once

M: My neck hurts from looking at all of you

M: Belphie move over or I will crush you that’s my sleeping spot-yeah I know that’s Beel’s lap THAT’s THE WHOLE POINT

M: I am constantly in a state of surppressed rage so how do I feel satan?

M: I can’t take you seriously your name is Satan

M: heh-no I do not look like Barbatos shut the fuck up

M: I totally did not draw Lucifer in a comprimising position and sold it online 

M: Hi mammon it’s pretty high up huh?

M: Beel I won’t tell anyone if you share that pizza with me

M: it’s not bribery if its not money-that doesn’t work? fuck

M: My type is literally anyone who isn’t human so ya know sorry solomon

M: god made demons and decided that evil was an aesthetic

M: I know I sang and Satan will tear you limb from limb but I swear I just forgot about the lyrics and not that I actually think nah no I think you’ll actually do that I’m not apologizing for shit

M: I’m so nice, I’m a family therapist for free. You motherfuckers better fucking pay me

M: technically I can call the cops any time since you did kidnap me 

M: Oh my god the dads are coming * after seeing lucifer and diavolo walk up *

M: Diavolo don’t avoid the question who. is. the. top??? 

M: Levi I know you know what Archive of our Own is don’t lie to me

M: Every time I see Cerberus I have the urge to climb the highest thing in the vacinity

M: I love Hades but saying that here would just incriminate me and I don’t want to boost Lucifer’s ego

M: Lucifer as an angel I feel like he would be even more obnoxious what? nO put that ROPE DOWN NO KINKY TODAY-

M: * first time seeing asmo* are you gay or european? 

M: My life is constantly referencing memes

M: Solomon’s theme song is pokemon we’ve already decided on that

M: CREEPER AW MAN-

M: I don’t want you guys to sing because I will physically combust 

[imagineaworlds]

I Love You (Part Forty-Nine) -- Aaron Hotchner

Written By: @desperately-bisexual

Request: None.

Warnings: SMUT!! Cursing. Dom/sub relationship. Sir kink. Oral (male and female (nb) receiving). Mentions and descriptions of sexual assault, child pornography, rape, wire cutting skin, PTSD, PTSD triggers, etc. IF YOU KNOW THE PIANO MAN CASE, JUST APPLY ALL OF THOSE WARNINGS TO THIS CHAPTER!

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Reader

Word Count: 14,753

Timeline: Season 7 Episode 12. Two months after part forty-eight.

A/N: Sub!Hotch is coming! :)

A couple of weeks ago, Hotch signed up for a triathlon that the FBI was holding in order to raise money to help support retired agents that needed psychiatric help. He insisted that it was important to him, and that he wanted to do it alone after I offered to sign up, too. As someone who needed help, he understood what it was like to be those on the couch in the therapist’s office. He knew better than anyone. Thankfully, we could afford to get him help—the best help that money could buy—but there were plenty of people who couldn’t afford it. Hotch loved the Bureau, and he loved making a difference in the world, so I knew exactly why this all meant so much to him, and why he was going to push himself to the very brink just to make sure he would raise as much money as possible. Not that I would tell him he couldn’t do it. I was just worried, and I didn’t want him to hurt himself since he wasn’t exactly as young as he remembers being. I just had to keep an eye on him.

When I found out that he was going to start training every morning by heading to the park to go on runs, I jumped at the opportunity. As he got up quietly that first morning to sneak around to make sure he wouldn’t wake me, and he put on his sneakers and athletic clothes, I rolled out of bed and started getting ready, too. He stopped when he came out of the bathroom to see me tying up my running shoes. Slowly, a smile started to form on his face. I smiled back at him, then patted his chest lightly as I walked around the bed and towards the stairs. Hotch chased after me to pinch my side playfully. I tried to slap his hand away because it made me giggle a little too loud, and the kids were sleeping just down the hallway, but Hotch predicted my attack, and instead grabbed my wrist and pulled me against his chest.

“Try it, baby girl, and see where it gets you.”

I bit my lip seductively. “In bed with you?” I teased.

He squinted. “In bed, sure. With me? No. With toys? Of course.”

“And… what would you do with said toys, Agent Hotchner?”

“A magician never reveals his secrets, Agent Hotchner.” He kissed my knuckles before releasing me and heading downstairs. I took a moment to catch my breath and regain my balance since my knees felt weak, then I followed him out to the car so that we could drive to the park.

We started going every single morning after that. When we started getting into the swing of things, we learned that we just didn’t have enough time between waking up and getting back on time to get the kids ready, so we started going after we would wake them up and drop them off at Jessica’s house so that she could drive them to school when it was time. At first, they hated getting up early. Like any normal kids, they hated getting up for school in the first place, but then we were insisting that they would wake up even earlier just so that Mom and Dad could go running in the park for an important race that he had coming up.

Eventually, Hotch and I turned our morning jogs into a competition. Whoever finished first always got to Dominate when we got home, no questions asked. Hotch kept fucking winning. I was sick of it. Now, I was determined more than anything in the world, to beat him at least once, just to see that devilish grin get smacked off his face, if nothing else. So, I started getting smart about it. I thought it like sex, right. Hotch liked to go slow and steady in the beginning in order to save his energy for the end. I always liked to go too fast and hard, which would wear me out by the end. So, I started playing by his rules. Slow and steady, and then sprint at the end. I wasn’t any good at it, if I were being honest, but I was working on it, and Hotch wasn’t exactly too happy to know that I was gaining on him, which boosted my ego somewhat.

But then slow and steady stopped working. The longer we raced, the better Hotch got at pacing himself and increasing his stamina, and it was getting hard to keep up with him again. So, I got smart, and I decided to play it my way. Rules were meant to be broken, right?

On Tuesday, when we got to the park, I started jogging normally. I followed closely behind Hotch at first, but the further we went, the longer the distance between us grew, and I got annoyed. But I played it cool. I waited until I could see the finish line in the distance. We always started at the car to limber up and stretch, then we would run around the park, head down a trail for a bit, then work our way back to the car. Whoever tapped the car first won. So, when I saw our car in the distance and I noticed that Hotch was kind of speeding up a bit more, I made my choice. This was it. This was my chance to finally win.

“Ow!” I cried out, coming to a halt while grabbing my leg. Hotch looked over his shoulder to see what happened. I hopped on one leg, my face cringing as I continued my act. “Aaron—” He stopped just as soon as he realized that something was wrong and started jogging back towards me. “Shit, my ankle…”

Hotch held his hands out for me, like he was ready to catch me if I needed to topple over for any reason. “What’s wrong?” His eyes tried to find mine to get a read on what was going on. “Are you alright?”

“You know I love you, right?” I asked, still looking down at my ankle to hide the smirk that was growing on my face.

“What?”

“Tonight’s gonna be fun.”

Before Hotch could put two and two together, I put my foot back down on the ground, and I ran like hell towards our car. It was just ahead, in the third spot in the parking lot, the trunk facing where we were in the park. I tapped the trunk of the car as fast as I could before spinning around, my arms raised in the air as I claimed victory finally. All that work trying to win, all those days of Hotch being so cocky because we would get home and he’d immediately claim his reward, yet I finally won just by juking him out. Sucker.

“You gotta keep up, old man!” I called to him. Hotch threw his head back and groaned. “Do you need a walker? Maybe a stretcher will suffice? Ooh— maybe one of those old-timey walking canes. Yes!” I laughed. “Oh, that’s going to be your birthday gift this year.”

Hotch squinted sourly at me as he got closer. When he was within range, I raised my arms and jumped on him. He caught me and let me kiss him suddenly. It didn’t matter that we were both still panting and sweaty, we’d continue to be until we could get home, finish my victory tour of his body, then finally take a shower. It was just something we had gotten used to recently.

“What about a blue one to match your vest?” I asked while jumping off him, still joking about the cane idea. “Or maybe red to match your favorite tie.”

“Y/N…” he warned.

I threw my hands up defensively. “You’re the one who lost.”

“Yeah, ‘cause you cheated,” he scoffed.

“I didn’t cheat. I just… abused the fact that you love and care for me so much that you had to come check on me before you crossed the finish line.” I grinned and threw my arms back around his neck to make him kiss me, but I didn’t jump up again. “That’s not cheating. That’s profiling.”

Hotch chuckled sarcastically, “Profiling? Hmmm… Interesting. Did your profile include that I don’t let cheaters get away scot free without punishment?” He was leaning in close, and he was whispering so that only I could hear the veiled threat. I gulped. “Car. Now.”

“We’re in a park, Hotch—”

“Then you better stay low.”

He grabbed my bicep and started dragging me towards the car again. He let go when I was set on my path to the front passenger’s side door. As he unlocked the car, Hotch eagerly jumped into the driver’s seat, and I slid into mine beside him. The second we were both settled in our seats, Hotch lifted his hips and pushed his shorts down to his ankles, then his underwear. Somehow, he was already hard without me even having touched him. I felt myself heat up and my thighs rubbed together when I started getting wet. I knew that it was a bad idea. Anyone could see us, and he probably wasn’t even going to fuck me, but—

Hotch grabbed the back of my head and pulled me over the arm rest between us. Before I could protest or do anything, Hotch pushed my open mouth onto his cock. I moaned around him in response to the sudden, demanding movement. He kept pushing me down until I was gagging and pushing against his thigh to find relief, but he didn’t let up.

I heard him let out a groan as his head fell back against the headrest. Knowing I wasn’t getting out of this easily, I decided to give in. When his fingers tangled in my hair, I started moving of my own volition up and down his length. His grip tightened. I moved my hands from his thigh to the base of his length, using my fingers to add stimulation.

“Baby…” he moaned lightly. I still heeded his earlier advice, keeping my head low, using my tongue to do the extra work. Usually, I took time to tease his tip because it was the most sensitive part of him, but he was holding me down, and I still didn’t want to be seen by anyone outside of the car. “I won’t last long.”

Already? Honestly, I thought to myself: the sooner the better. The faster he finished, the faster we could get home and I could finally claim my prize for winning this race. I was sure he was going to be stubborn about it, but that was part of the fun, wasn’t it? So, I hollowed my cheeks around him and took every inch of him into my mouth until he hit the back of my throat.

“Fuck—” There was his tell. Hotch’s hips bucked slightly, and he pulled at my hair, earning a groan from me. The vibrations of my moans and groans around him was enough to tip him over the edge. He cursed my name as he came in my mouth. “Good girl,” he hissed, snapping his hips up as he finished. “Look at me,” he demanded lifting my head off him slowly. As he raised me up, I looked at him through my lashes. “Open.” I presented myself for him. “Swallow.” I closed my mouth and did as I was told. “My good girl.”

“You’re in for it when we get home,” I told him with a smirk, facing forward in my seat.

Hotch pulled up his pants. “I’d like to see you try.” And then his phone started ringing.

I whined. “Please, no. Don’t answer it.”

However, Hotch was already grabbing it and swiping his thumb across the screen to answer it while saying, “I’m sorry, baby girl.” I sighed and slid down in my seat, knowing that it had to do with work and that our morning plans were going to be postponed. Hotch hung up. “We have a case.” I rolled my eyes. “I’m so sorry, baby girl…” He slid his hand onto my thigh, grabbing it lightly and playfully but still sensually so as to get my attention.

I forced myself to look at him. “You still owe me.”

“I know I do.”

“I won’t forget it.”

“I wouldn’t expect you to.”

I slowly felt a smile grow on my face. “Okay.”

“Okay.”

After that, Hotch and I headed home to get showered quickly. Apparently, JJ only gave us about an hour to get home, get ready for work, then head to the office. It was plenty of time. Hotch and I raced up the stairs and to our bedroom, tearing each other’s clothes off while kissing each other sloppily and desperately as we stumbled around. There wasn’t enough time for me to claim my prize yet, but there was still time for other things. So, while we were standing in the shower, soaking under the warm water, Hotch had me pushed against the wall, my arms pinned over my head, his tongue fighting for dominance against mine. I rolled my hips around to get him all worked up, and I succeeded. He knelt down in front of me and grabbed my hips roughly to hold me steady as he pressed his tongue flat against my clit and started flicking it side to side. I almost slipped at first. If he hadn’t been holding me the way he was, I would’ve lost my footing and fell right over, crashing into the constantly draining water. But Hotch wouldn’t let that happen. He made sure that I was safe so that I could just focus on moaning out his name and begging for more while pulling at his wet hair.

Once I came, Hotch kept holding me, sliding his hands up from my hips to my waist as he stood, and then he kissed me roughly again. I moaned into his mouth as I tasted myself. It wasn’t exactly the reward I anticipated getting after our run, but it was still perfect, and I let him know it as I continued to kiss him by keeping him trapped in my arms that were flung around his neck.

“We have to…” he began before I kissed him again. “We have to actually… Fuck… We have to actually shower, baby girl.”

“We could also call in sick.”

“No…” He moved one of his hands to my neck slowly, but then he quickly grabbed on and held me still against the wall so that he could pull back and catch his breath. “We have to actually go in today.” He used his free hand to brush his hair out of his face and wipe the water out of his eyes. He looked so hot like that, though… Fuck… “Behave.” He gently released me. When I didn’t jump him again, he relaxed. “Good girl.”

“I hate you.”

“No, no, no. What do you say after what I just did for you?”

I rolled my eyes. “Thank you, Sir.”

He grinned as he grabbed the shampoo from the ledge. “Exactly.”

By the time we were actually clean, we had run out of time in our hour that JJ gave us. However, it didn’t seem to be that big of deal, considering that as we were running into the office building with our case files from home and two apples for breakfast, Rossi was meandering up to the door casually like he didn’t care that he was late, too. He opened the door for us just in time to run in. He chuckled. While we raced through security, hardly getting a chance to stop and greet the guards we were friends with, Rossi was still slowly making his way through, yet we still waited at the elevator for him. We were great friends…

In the elevator, Rossi stayed quiet as he looked between me and Hotch, then looked us both up and down respectively. I furrowed my brows, curious as to what he was looking at or for. Did Hotch leave a button undone? Was his zipper down? Did I forget to brush my hair? What the hell did Rossi find so intriguing about us just standing in the elevator?

“What?” Hotch finally asked, also uneasy with Rossi’s silent profiling and wandering eyes.

Rossi shrugged and looked forward. “Did you two work out this morning?”

Wait— What? Did we smell? Was our wet hair from the shower somehow an obvious sign? Did I not fucking brush my hair! David Rossi, I swear—

“We did. We’ve been jogging.”

“Jogging.” Rossi nodded with a small smirk. “And how was the, uh… work out.”

I rolled my eyes. There it was. Somehow Rossi knew that more than a morning jog happened. That man had a scent and an eye for that kind of thing, and I never understood how. I could shower and not have sex for a week, and he’d take notice. I could fuck Hotch ten times in a day, and he’d notice. What was our tell? We’re we really that bad at hiding it? I mean, come on, we were married, we were still… young-ish. We had stressful jobs and home life, but we loved each other, and we loved to show it as often as possible. Could Rossi really blame us?

“It’s called training,” Hotch rolled his eyes, “and it was fine.”

“Right…” Rossi agreed sarcastically. “Training. Training for… what, though.”

“Rossi!” I hissed, hitting his arm playfully.

He shrugged like he didn’t know why I had yelled at him or hit him. He was acting all innocent. “What? We’re just talking about jogging!”

“Yeah, we are!” I insisted.

“There ya go. No harm, no foul.” The elevator dinged and the doors started opening. “Next time, though, just keep in mind that I walk my dog at 7:15 in that park every morning. I go back to my car in the fifth spot around 7:45. Maybe try not doing it in the front seat of your car in the third spot at 7:45.”

My jaw dropped and my eyes shot wide at the realization. Rossi stepped out of the elevator, still grinning, but I looked up at Hotch, both of us utterly horrified. “Then you better stay low?” I echoed his words from earlier as quiet as I could as we stepped out a few seconds after Rossi was gone. “Oh, my god!” I couldn’t help the smile that was widening on my face and the laugh that was growing in my chest. Hotch was red with embarrassment, but what the hell did he have to be embarrassed about when I was the one who had been choking on his length with his hands tangled in my hair! “This is your fault.”

“You’re the one who was being a brat,” he hissed under his breath. He opened the glass door for me. “I think there’s shared blame.”

“You insisted—”

“Do you want me to punish you again?”

I squinted at him. “You’re the worst.”

“I’m counting that.”

“I still won this morning. So, technically, I should be the one counting.”

He shook his head as we kept walking to the roundtable where everyone was gathering so that JJ could present the case. “You can count, brat; but I’m still keeping score of my own. Just keep that in mind.” He ushered me into the room without another word about it, but with a devilish grin plastered to his face.

“Good morning, everyone,” JJ greeted as everyone took their seats. I was squished between Hotch and Emily. “There’s a problem in Houston that we’ve been monitoring for a while, but they’ve finally called us in so that we can handle the case with a hands-on approach.”

“Why?” Emily asked.

“Because the Piano Man is back.”

I froze in my seat. “What?”

Five months ago, Houston PD reached out to us with a serial rapist case where at least twelve survivors had come forward in the last five years, all claiming to be attacked by the same man. Police identified and connected all of the cases because of the survivors’ testimonies. His MO was to knock them out with a date rape drug, then he would bind them using piano wire. Hence, the name—which I explicitly argued against in my original profile and consultation. This had been my case to handle while Hotch was gone. However, they took my profile, and they never got back to me. I simply figured they caught the guy.

“What do we know?” Hotch asked.

I answered that. Because of the drugs, none of the survivors could remember the assault. However, because of all the missing time, we could approximate that he was keeping all of his victims for about twelve hours each after being taken or attacked in different times, locations, and ways. The twelve hours were to ensure that he had as much time with them as possible before the drugs would wear off, leaving the police with no evidence. Even rape kits turned out to be a shitty lead.

“Brittany Anderson woke up the other day in front of the diner that she had been abducted outside of,” JJ said. Wait— “And Vanessa Campbell went missing last night.” No.

“Those were victims two and five,” Reid realized.

“He’s going back and attacking his survivors a second time,” Morgan added.

JJ nodded. “Unfortunately, that didn’t save Vanessa this time around. She tried, but…”

“What do you mean ‘she tried’?”

“Vanessa tried to throw up the drugs using a salt and water mixture.”

“A homemade emetic,” Emily said, impressed. “She knew how to protect herself from ever getting drugged again, but it just didn’t do the trick. Whatever he’s drugging them with must be stronger this time around.”

“Yeah,” JJ agreed, “because everything she’s done since her first attack has been to protect herself. She got a new home security system, she stopped drinking alcohol, she doesn’t take public transportation anymore, so on. She’s been extremely cautious.”

“He’s getting off on upping the stakes,” I whispered. Everyone turned to look at me. I cleared my throat and shifted uncomfortably in my chair, trying to straighten my posture without raising any questions. “He’s getting off on knowing that no matter what, no matter how safe they feel, he can still get to them.”

“So, the question is, how did the Unsub drug her and take her in her own home?” Hotch questioned. He looked at me to say, “I want you to take the lead on this case since you did the original consultation and profile.” I nodded. “Okay. Wheels up in forty.” He immediately stood with his things in hand and headed towards his office.

Everyone began collecting their things and pushing out their chairs so that we could hurry to our desks in the bullpen and grab our go-bags. Morgan was eyeing me warily the whole time. I tried to ignore it, thinking that he had probably just caught my awkwardness in the roundtable room. Out of everyone, he probably understood most of all why.

“Y/N,” Hotch called from his office. I looked up from my go-bag on my chair and saw him curling his finger towards himself and his office.

“Ooh,” Morgan chortled, “someone’s in trouble with the principal.”

I squinted at him. “Bite me.” I stood and started walking up the ramp.

“Every day you stray further from the sweet and innocent Y/N who first walked through those doors. When do I get them back?”

“I was never sweet and innocent, Derek! Once you learn that, you’ll think of something smart to say back to me one of these days.”

“And the shots just keep coming.”

“They never stop!” I laughed.

“Hey,” Hotch greeted as I entered his office. “I just wanted to make sure that you’re alright with working on this case.”

I furrowed my brows. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

Hotch hesitated. “Well, I figured with… the nature of it…”

I rolled my eyes. “I’ll be fine.”

“Y/N, I saw you during the case presentation. I know that what happened to you in high school isn’t something you like to talk about, but it’s okay if you can’t—”

“It made me uncomfortable, Hotch, because we should have taken this guy down five months ago before he started going back to his survivors. No one should ever have to endure that twice. Ever.”

He didn’t say anything.

“I want to lead this case. I want to be there when we take him down. Okay?”

He nodded.

“Okay.” I nodded, too. While I hadn’t exactly told him the entire truth, I only told him what mattered—and, honestly, since he lied to me about Prentiss, I had some wiggle room to lie to him, too. He didn’t need to know that this was putting me on edge. Not yet at least.

“I got Prentiss’s evaluation back,” he told me quietly. I cocked a brow. “She lied to her therapist in order to pass.”

“Well, that’s okay.”

“What?”

I shrugged. “She’s just trying to move past it all. She really just wants things to go back to normal.”

“Y/N…” He hesitated. “I know that she wants things to go back to how they were…” He eyed me carefully. “But she’s still going through it. She can’t just snap her fingers and make things the same.”

I eyed him back. That was about more than just Prentiss. This was about how it had been a solid two months since he got back, and things weren’t back to how they were before he left. Honestly, I knew that I told him that they would eventually, but I wasn’t so sure. It wasn’t that things were bad. In fact, they were as good as they could get, considering all the pain he caused, but to say that it would ever be how it was… No… That was impossible. The best thing we could do now was to just look to the future and create a new normal.

Hotch shook off his thought. “I’m going to talk to her before the team gets on the jet. Think you can hold them off for me?”

“I’ve got you.”

“Thank you.”

----

On the jet, Hotch and I sat in the two seats in the very back while everyone else was huddled around the four seats—except for Emily, who was still reading the case file on her own. Hotch held my hand during takeoff. Four years into working at the BAU, and I was much better at flying than I was when I first started, but it was still nice to have him there to comfort me whenever the plane would bounce while climbing in altitude.

Then, once we were high up in the air, coasting for a few minutes like we would be for the next few hours, I nonchalantly laid my head on Hotch’s shoulder—not even realizing what it was that I was doing and where I was doing it. I just needed to rest my eyes. That was all I was thinking about. Houston was a couple hours away, and we weren’t going to keep talking about the case yet, so I could afford to just shut my eyes for a little bit… Even if it while laying on Hotch in front of everyone on the jet. Though, to be fair, we had done a lot worse on that jet while people were around.

“Why are you so exhausted, my love?” he whispered, careful not to disturb me or catch anyone’s attention.

I sighed and relaxed even more against him. “Between staying up all night with Scar, then keeping up with you while jogging, then going to work, then… you know… stuff at home…” He chuckled. “It’s all a lot.” Then I realized how that sounded. “But I’m happy!” I insisted quickly. “I’m happy, baby, I promise. I’m just tired.”

He grabbed my hand and brought my knuckles to his lips. After pressing a gentle kiss on them, he wiped his thumb gently over every bump. “Why don’t you go sleep on the couch for a bit while Emily and I catch up on the case since we weren’t here when you guys first got it a couple of months ago?”

I nodded against him. “Okay. Thank you.” I lifted my head off of his shoulder, and with half-open eyelids, I pushed myself out of my seat and slowly meandered over to the couch on the opposite side of the jet. I plopped down with a groan.

“Rough morning?” Rossi asked from his seat.

With my eyes still closed, I responded, “I will cut your tongue out if you don’t figure out how to hold it.”

I heard him chuckle, earning a smirk from me, too.

----

I jolted awake when I felt a hand on my bicep, scaring the absolute shit out of me. When I caught my breath, I realized that it was just Hotch carefully coaxing me awake on the couch. That was when I realized that there was no one else on the plane. We weren’t moving anymore. Shit.

I groaned as I sat up. “You let me sleep the whole way?!”

“Sorry,” he apologized quietly, “but we heard from the local PD as we were landing.” He handed me my go-bag when I was ready. “There were no date rape drugs found in Vanessa Campbell’s stomach contents.” I cursed under my breath as I stood and we started walking off the jet together to find that the team was already gone, leaving us with the last black SUV that we had waiting to drive us into town. “They didn’t find anything in her system, actually.”

“Wait, what?” I inquired while sliding into the backseat. That was odd, considering she would have only just been drugged, so there should have been some traces of the drug in her bile.

“That’s not even the worst part.” He settled in the seat beside me, then patted the driver’s seat to reference that we were ready to go. The chauffeur started driving. “Three more victims have come forward to admit that they had been re-assaulted.”

I didn’t even have to ask why they didn’t come forward earlier because I already knew the answer. They didn’t think it was worth it. At least once someone came forward and the story hit the news, it encouraged more women to come further. I was sure that if Reid were riding in the car with us, he would’ve given some statistic—one which I really didn’t want to hear in this case.

At the station, Emily and I went to sit in the boardroom all day, ready to ask each of the survivors the questions we had prepared. When the first girl showed up, I took the lead. I asked the questions, and Emily just sat by and took notes; but the longer we sat there, hearing the same depressing story again and again, I found that I was slowing down, and it was getting hard to keep asking the same questions while already knowing how gut wrenching the answer was going to be.

The first question was always about what they had changed in their lives since the first attack. Vanessa Campbell had changed her appearance, her home, her work, her lifestyle—everything for the sake of protecting herself. When we first started asking the question, we anticipated different answers. We thought that we would have to grasp at straws to find connections, but we were not at all prepared to hear that they all did the same things. Hair, clothes, home, work, partners, lifestyle, pets—everything. They all changed the same things.

And then there was a moment when I asked myself if I had done that, too, without realizing. After it happened, I stopped going to parties. I mean, it happened at the end of senior year at one of the last parties that our graduating class ever threw, so it didn’t really matter. But in college, I never went to one. I thought about it, but every time I did, I felt sick. So, I stayed in. I stopped wearing clothes that were revealing all the way up until I met Hotch. But I think that stood out the most was my sex life. While I never had any “boyfriends” or “girlfriends” after it happened, I certainly had my fair share of fuck buddies. BDSM parties, swinger parties, orgies, even. For some reason, I took what happened to me, and my brain made sense of it by telling me that I had to relinquish control in that part of my life—but only with people I absolutely trusted. I never, ever participated in one of those events unless I was with a friend that I trusted with my life.

Most people, on the other hand, would have never done what I did. Understandable. I took the route that said I needed more sex in order to forget about what happened to me—whereas most survivors were the opposite. But everyone was different. I handled my trauma the way that made sense to me, and each of the women we interviewed that day took the other approach.

But then they all said something that was all too true about me, as well. They didn’t tell the police because they didn’t think that anyone would believe them. I was in high school. I was underage at a party, photographed doing illegal things. If I would have gone to the police, I would have been in more trouble than the boy who took those pictures because his face was never in them. There was evidence that I had been drinking, there was evidence that I had been smoking pot, and there was evidence that I was fucking a boy. Yet, there wasn’t a single shred of evidence of what he actually did—other than my word… But knowing the statistics, what were the odds that they would have believed me over him?

“Besides, who would ever believe the slut who cries wolf?” Dana, one of the survivors, asked. I cocked a brow at her. “Can we take a break or something? I need a smoke.”

I froze while writing. After hesitating for a moment, I looked at Emily, then I looked at Dana. That was the fourth time we had heard that request from the survivors. Four out of four.

After Emily told her that she could smoke outside the building, Dana grabbed her purse and left. I spun in my chair to look at Emily. We were both thinking the same thing, I could see it in her eyes. If the victims weren’t being drugged through their drinks or food, then there was only one common link between them that made sense. Their cigarettes.

My phone started ringing with a call from Morgan. I answered to check in with him and Spencer on what they found at Vanessa Campbell’s house. Just like we had seen in the case file, there was vomit on the kitchen floor, a broken glass from the homemade emetic, the glass door had been busted in, and there was a clear sign of a struggle throughout the kitchen and living room. But what the cops failed to mention in their report before Morgan and Reid got there was that the TV was on, and that the Unsub had been playing a song that Vanessa absolutely hated, according to her husband.

“Can you try asking the other victims if there’s any song they can’t stand since their first attack?” Reid asked me. I asked why. “If there’s a pattern, he could have possibly chosen to play that exact song on purpose.”

It sounded reasonable enough, so I gave in to the idea. When Dana came back from her smoke, we asked her about the songs. She told us that there was one piano ballad specifically that she couldn’t stand anymore because it had been playing during both attacks. After we talked to her, Emily and I went back to talk to the other survivors, and they all told us the same. So, Reid had been right about a pattern.

I collected my things as Emily saw the survivors to their cars just outside of the station. Hotch, Rossi, JJ, Morgan, and Spencer headed into the boardroom and took some of the empty seats, making sure not to steal Emily’s next to mine. I watched Morgan as he sat down. I wondered if he was okay since getting back to the station from Vanessa’s house, after seeing everything that man did to her. Morgan and I had different experiences, don’t get me wrong. But assault was assault. Just because mine aligned more with the Piano Man case didn’t mean that the content didn’t still bother the great Derek Morgan.

Hotch cleared his throat, catching my attention. He made a smooth gesture my way to tell me to start leading the meeting. They all wanted to know what Emily and I had found out while talking to all of the survivors, and I wanted to know what Morgan and Reid thought of the songs and the crime scene at Vanessa Campbell’s house. With confirmation that the song was part of the Unsub’s signature, Reid started putting all of the pieces together so that Rossi and Hotch could start building an official profile off of the one I had given the local PD months ago.

Reid finished what he was saying with, “It’s possible that while they’ve lost consciousness during their attacks, the Unsub is playing each of these songs on repeat, and in the victims are retraining the information—perhaps like a Pavlovian response, which turns the songs into a trigger.”

“The question is, why these songs?” Hotch questioned.

“Well, piano ballads are usually comforting, romantic songs. He could be setting the mood while also torturing them with the fact that music will never sound the same to them,” Rossi offered.

I cleared my throat like I had something stuck that was choking me up, and I used that as an excuse to leave and grab some coffee. No one said anything as I left.

----

That night, while Hotch and I were getting ready for bed at the hotel, I got lost in thought. I was standing in front of the sink with the water running, staring into my own reflection in the mirror, remembered the photos he had taken of me and used against me just to get some fucking money… Not that he even needed it. He came from a good family that was sending him to a good school so that he had a bright future. But he just wanted to make my life a living hell. I could remember that even after the bruises on my hips faded and the hickeys on my neck and collarbone disappeared, it never felt like they were gone because they were always there in those pictures. Even though Morgan and I burned those pictures a long time ago, it still felt like they were following me around. It felt like the bruises were still on me.

“I thought you said you could handle it,” Hotch whispered from behind me. I snapped out of my trance to see him leaning against the doorframe. “This case. You said it wouldn’t be a problem.”

“It isn’t,” I insisted while shutting the water off.

“I thought we weren’t supposed to lie to each other.”

I glared at him through the mirror.

“I’m serious, Y/N,” he said, approaching me to try to hug me from behind. I dodged the attempt and stepped around him, heading for the bedroom. “It’s okay if you need to sit this one out because of what happened—”

“Like I’ve told you a thousand times, Hotch, I’m fine. I don’t need you worrying about me when I just need you to focus on helping me find this guy. Okay? Drop it.”

“I have every right and reason to worry about you!” he exclaimed while following me into the bedroom.

I rolled my eyes and turned to face him. “Aaron.” He stopped to stare at me, fear in his eyes, an obvious debate running through his mind about what the hell I could be so serious about all of a sudden. “Do you remember when I told you that I’d ask you to lay out all of the lies for me one day, when I was ready to talk about Emily and everything?” He nodded warily. “I need you to tell me or I’m going to go crazy during this case. I can’t be battling knowing that you’re still hiding things from me and also swallowing the fact that every time I hear someone on the team call those girls ‘victims’, I want to throw up. So, I need you to just… lay it all out for me. Right now.”

“Baby, are you sure—”

“Yes, I’m sure. You promised me. This was the deal that if I stayed, if we were going to work through this, then you had to fess up. No matter how bad, no matter how stupid, I need to know, Hotch. I don’t keep things from you, and all I ask is that you share the same courtesy.” I huffed and sat on the edge of the bed. “Please.”

Hotch took a moment to himself, standing there in front of me, watching as I stared at anything on or around him in order to avoid his gaze. It was humiliating to ask my husband to be honest with me. I knew that there was no way he had cheated on me, and I knew that there was no way that he stopped loving me, so I didn’t fear that something like that would come up, but I was still terrified that he would admit something that would break my heart, and maybe make things worse. But, honestly, nothing could have been worse than him lying about Emily’s death and letting me name our daughter after her.

He finally gave in. Slowly, he sat beside me, keeping his hands to himself, and he followed my lead by just staring at the wall opposite us. “Okay,” he croaked. He cleared his throat to reiterate, “Okay.” He shifted uncomfortably on the bed. “I lied to you about Kate.”

Oh, my fucking—

“When I was working with her in England, there was one night when we slept together. We had both been drinking, and one thing led to another, as they usually do, and it happened before I could stop myself. I regretted it the next morning… I told her that it could never happen again, and it didn’t.”

“Did Haley know?”

Hotch shook his head. “She would’ve left me if I told her. And it didn’t even mean anything, Y/N. Kate was one of my best friends. It’s like if you slept with Morgan—”

“Don’t be vulgar.”

“I’m serious!” He chuckled. “There would be feelings, sure, but it wouldn’t ultimately mean anything—” He suddenly stopped himself. “Or. Well. Would it?”

I punched his arm lightly. “No, it wouldn’t.”

He rubbed the spot where I hit him while still smiling, but then he started thinking about other lies he had told or secrets he kept from me, and his smile faded. “I don’t think I ever stopped loving Haley…” he whispered. “And I don’t think I ever will.”

I grabbed his hand and intertwined our fingers. “That’s not a secret, Aaron Christopher Hotchner.”

He looked at me. “It’s not?”

I looked at him. “No.” The temptation to run my fingers through his hair overthrew me, so I gave in. He nuzzled into my touch as I did so. “Someone once told me that we’re capable of loving more than one person in our lifetime. They never really believed in soulmates, and I don’t think I do either. I think that there are just a string of people in our lives that we meet and we fall in love with them as hard as we can, and there’s no stopping it. Sometimes it’s just one person, and that’s enough to last a lifetime. But there are other times when it takes a few ‘soulmates’ before finding the one you don’t ever want to move on from.” I brushed his hair off his forehead. “I’ve only ever loved one other person the way I love you. Only one. Even now, years later, having not seen them in a long time, I’m still in love with them. Does that mean I love you any less? No. You are my forever love, Aaron Hotchner.” I cupped my palm on his cheek. “Haley was your soulmate—one of them, at least. You grew up loving her, and you dedicated your life to her for as long as you could. You had a family with her. That doesn’t wash away just because you’re not legally married anymore or because she isn’t around. It’s okay to love her, Aaron. It’s okay to miss her. I would never, ever judge you for that because I know that you still love me, and that I’m one of your soulmates—”

“You’re my forever love, Y/N,” he whispered while pressing his forehead against mine.

“Then, you don’t have to worry about me getting jealous over Kate or Haley. You don’t have to be scared that I’m going to run off because you’re still in love with your first soulmate. I’m not going anywhere.”

He slid his hand around the back of my neck, bracing me because the next thing I knew, he was kissing me deeply. I exhaled through my nose as I kissed back. I knew that he hadn’t gotten all of the lies and the secrets out yet, but I was honestly content with what he had said. I knew how hard it was for him to be truthful. I knew that him and Haley had a relationship that sorely lacked communication, and that was why they ultimately failed. So, I couldn’t push him too hard, and I couldn’t make him start piecing together all of the lies and the secrets of his life in one night. I thought that was what I wanted, but now that we were in the moment, I realized that it was too much. Too much for him, and too much for me. It was okay to just leave it where it was.

Hotch pulled from me shortly to catch his breath. “I’ve got another one.”

I smiled and ran a finger over his bottom lip. “Okay.”

“I used to sell pot in high school.”

I let out a laugh. Shaking my head at how stupid and silly he was, I pulled him in for another kiss, moving so that I was laying down and he was towering over me, his legs straddling my hips, his hands holding my face for balance, my fingers still tangled in his hair to keep him close. He must have run out of actual lies and secrets if he pulled that one out of his ass.

----

The next morning, we got the worst news possible. Just as we were settling in at the precinct to get to work on the profile, the cops got a call about a body in a river that ran through downtown. The detective who called us in for the case let us know that he was heading down there just to see if it had anything to do with our case or not, and I decided to send Morgan and Reid with him. Only, at the time, I didn’t think anything would come of it. But then my phone started ringing with a call from Morgan, which I eagerly answered, only to feel my heart drop to my stomach.

“Hey, peanut,” Morgan greeted. “We just found Vanessa Campbell’s body.”

I let out a sigh as I braced my elbow on the desk in front of me and hid my face in my hand. “You’re sure?”

“She matches the description, and her body is covered in cuts from piano wires that were restraining her.”

“Can you guys tell if she was…” I hesitated.

Morgan knew what I meant, though. “We won’t know for sure until the coroner runs a complete autopsy. But, listen, Reid found something that might help.” I cocked a brow and put the call on speaker so that the rest of the team could listen in. “We found pieces of surgical gloves in her mouth, like she bit it off the Piano Man’s hand or something.”

“Okay? So what?” JJ questioned.

“These gloves aren’t latex— and they’re expensive ones, too. He couldn’t just get these anywhere. Our Unsub has an allergy to latex, and Reid and I are betting on the fact that he works at a hospital.”

“He could have been one of the doctors that treated all of the survivors when they went in for their rape kits,” Emily said.

“Stay with the coroner for now, Morgan,” I said into the phone, “and I’ll let you guys know if there are any updates later.”

“Sounds good.”

I hung up on him and leaned back in my chair, looking at the team as they all stared at me. The glove changed some things, but not much. I mean, it was a solid lead, and JJ was already getting in contact with Garcia to start looking for the doctors that treated all of the survivors and had a latex allergy—but in terms of the profile… Things changed a bit. The gloves were just a counter measure. He was evolving because he knew that we were hunting him, and when Vanessa fought back, he got rid of her.

“Garcia couldn’t find any record that any of the surgeons or doctors that treated some or all of the survivors have a latex allergy,” JJ said. But then her phone started ringing. “Penelope?” After a moment, she put the call on speaker.

“I found something,” Garcia immediately said. “I couldn’t find a connection with the surgeons or doctors, but I did find one link with an orderly named Herman Scobie. According to hospital computer records, he accessed each of the victims’ medical and insurance records after they came in for a rape kit the first time.”

“That’s how he’s been finding their addresses after they moved,” I realized.

“Y/N, Dana’s back,” Emily said from beside me. We all turned around in our seats to see one of the survivors, Dana, standing in the middle of the precinct, aimlessly looking around for us.

“Everyone, clear the room, please,” I told the team. They all stood and began filing out of the room. Emily and I followed behind them, but we walked towards Dana instead of staying with the herd.

“He killed Vanessa?” she asked instantly.

Emily nodded. “Yes.”

“He could be after any one of us now, right?”

She hesitated. “Yes.”

Dana sucked in a shaky breath while clearly contemplating something. After a long moment, she relaxed and looked at us. “I remember some things about that night. I… I lied when I told you guys that I completely blacked out.”

“Would you be willing to tell us now?”

“If it’ll save us… yeah…”

Emily smiled lightly. “Okay. Let’s head to the boardroom again.” She gestured across the office, and Dana turned to head there. Emily started following, but I stayed still. She waited up for me, taking a step back when she realized that my gaze was glued to the wall. “Y/N?” She put a comforting hand on my bicep. “Are you alright?”

I looked at her. “I can’t listen to it.”

Emily looked like she wanted to ask why, but I could tell that she also understood that there was no point in prying. “I’ll handle it, then. Why don’t you go with the team to the Unsub’s house, get some fresh air, clear your head a bit.” I nodded obediently. “It’ll be okay.”

“Yeah,” I croaked. “Yeah, I know. Thanks.” I put a friendly hand on her shoulder as I walked around and past her, meeting up with the team as they were gearing up to head to Scobie’s house.

On our way there, Hotch and I sat together in the front seat of one of the SUVs with Morgan and Reid in the back. Every so often, Hotch would glance over at me, his eyes trying to get a read on if I was any better since last night when I somewhat admitted that I was struggling—at least specifically with the fact that no one was showing the survivors the respect they deserved. Even Morgan was still referring to them as “victims”. But I felt somewhat better, especially since Emily said she could handle questioning Dana on her own. I knew that I would feel a thousand times better, at least, when we would catch this son of a bitch, and it meant that one less predator was out on the streets.

“Y/N, we have a plan to stick to,” Hotch whispered. He must have seen the hungry look in my eye for revenge. I tried to shake it off. “I don’t want you to be the one—”

“It’s going to be me,” I insisted.

He hesitated. I wasn’t like my sister, he had to know that, right? Elle wasn’t able to control her emotions, so she arrested Lee before we had enough evidence, so we had to release him, and then he attacked her. I wasn’t going to let that happen again. We were going to do this the right way and we were going to make every single goddamn charge stick.

But even as we were pulling up to the house, I could still see that Hotch was unsure about letting me out of the car, so I just had to make sure that I was the first out, and that I was assigning orders to everyone as fast as possible. The plan was that Hotch and I were going to take the front door, Rossi and Morgan were going to take the back door, and Reid and JJ were going to search the van that was parked out front. I couldn’t wait to serve the search warrant to this asshole.

As Hotch and I approached the front door, I pinched my comm on my shoulder to ask if everyone was in position. When I got confirmation, I nodded to Hotch. He steadied his stance before roughly knocking on the door and exclaiming, “FBI, open up!” But there was no response. We had reasonable cause, so Hotch stepped back, then kicked the door in. Together, we rushed into the house, searching the living room, but that was when I saw Scobie, dressed in his work scrubs, dash through the hallway, heading straight for the back of the house.

“Morgan, he’s headed your way!” I yelled into the comm.

Within the next few moments, I heard a loud thud outside, followed by Scobie’s quick protests to be released. Seemed like Morgan got him.

“Y/N!” Rossi called through the comms. “We got him. There’s boxes and boxes of Neoprene gloves in his van.”

Hotch was watching me as I smirked and started heading towards the backyard to get a good look at the Piano Man.

----

When we were back at the office, Emily was already done talking to Dana, but asked her to stick around so that we could get a positive ID on Scobie being the Piano Man. She accepted. So, after we got him in the interrogation room, we led Dana to the mirror room where we told her that she would watch with Hotch and JJ while Emily and I went in there to talk to him. We made it clear that we would have to play his game. We were going to say things that we didn’t really mean, but Dana just had to trust us. She nodded nervously.

“You okay to go in there after earlier?” Emily questioned me.

“I’ll be fine.”

“Okay, then. I’ll take the lead, then. Be the strong, dominant personality or whatever.”

“I’ll follow,” I said with a smile.

It was a good interrogation tactic. Two women going in to confront a serial rapist. One of the women fit the dominant role to a T, while the other was submissive and shy to whatever he wanted. The conflicting responses to him would fuck with his head.

So, Emily and I headed into the interrogation room, letting the door to the mirror room close before Scobie could see Hotch, JJ, or Dana standing behind the glass.

“Where’s my lawyer?” he asked.

“We called him,” Emily answered. Not true. He technically hadn’t invoked yet, so we were just waiting for him to actually say that he wanted counsel. “He’s on his way. Actually—You know what, Y/N?” I cocked a brow. “Maybe we should just let him tell his client about the Piano Man investigation. What do you think?” I shrugged. “Yeah. Okay. We’ll do that. Sorry to bother you.” Emily moved to the door, holding it open for me.

“The what?”

“The Piano Man. You might have read about him in the paper.”

“You think I’m him?”

There was our in. Emily slowly ushered me back into the interrogation room, closing the door again behind us. As she said, “No, I don’t,” she pulled out a chair for me to sit in, and I did so obediently. “Well, we don’t,” she clarified while sitting next to me. “The problem is that there are other people out there who think that the way you treat your dates is a little similar to this guy. Some guys like it rough. In fact—” Emily stopped herself with a chuckle. “No… Never mind…” I blushed as part of the game, and hid my face away from him and her, earning a playful chuckle from her. “I shouldn’t have said anything. I’m sorry.”

“No, go ahead,” he insisted.

“No, we can’t.”

I bit my lip and continued to blush.

“Maybe you already did,” he said. “I can tell that you’re like me… You know… Rough.”

“Aren’t we all?”

“Well, maybe the three of us. But out there, people don’t understand.”

“I agree,” Emily said. “They just don’t get it. But I do. I know that it’s easy and fun to lose control. So… did you? You know, did you ever get a little too rough?”

“Never.”

“Never?”

My blush faded.

“Never.”

“What about those naughty girls that came back for seconds?”

“What about them?”

“They’re the ones making the most noise. What I need from you is a reason to kick them to the curb, because we just want to help get you out of here, to prove that you did nothing wrong.”

He leaned forward in his seat. “Look at the notches on their bedposts. You think they’re innocent?” He eyed me up and down. “Are any of you ever innocent?”

Emily leaned back, slyly keeping her distance from him, and she casually chuckled. “Good one.”

“Besides… Nobody ever believes a slut who cries wolf. Right?�� He continued to stare at me. “You would’ve liked being rough, too.” I didn’t say anything to give into his fantasy. “I know you like it. Don’t deny it.”

What the fuck? That motherfucker!

“What did you just say to me?” I questioned sternly. “You son of a—”

The door opened to reveal Hotch who was there to say, “Out. This is over.”

Something within me snapped. I felt this sudden urge to start crying, but I couldn’t let myself break in front of him. Not when we had come so far. So, I swallowed every overwhelming feeling that was crashing through me long enough to push my seat back and calmly hurry out of the room without saying another word or giving Emily a heads up.

When we broke into the mirror room, the door slamming behind us, I saw Dana crying in JJ’s arms while hyperventilating. Through cracked words that just couldn’t seem to leave my lips, I asked what happened. JJ explained the wolf comment triggered her. Hotch ordered JJ to take Dana back to the boardroom and to get her some water to help her calm down.

When they were gone, that was when Hotch grabbed my shoulders and turned me to face him. I sucked in a shallow breath and screwed my eyes shut.

“What is it?”

“How does he know?” I asked quietly. A sob was building in my chest even though I didn’t know how or why.

“What?”

“How— How does he know all of the right songs to play and the right things to say?”

“What are you talking about?”

He knew that playing all of those songs while attacking his victims again was a perfect way to retraumatize them all over again, and now they all had mantras—which he proved came from him during that interview. But what I didn’t expect was that last part. I didn’t expect that he would turn to me and know exactly what to say to make me relive that night all over again. It had been years since that night in high school. Sure, there were times when I would have a nightmare, or I’d see flashes of his face, or feel like he was whispering in my ear… But every time that happened, I was able to turn to Hotch, hold him in my arms, and relax. I could forget because I had the love of my life. And then that man looked me in the eye and said: “I know you like it. Don’t deny it.” Something suddenly snapped inside of me. It was an involuntary response. Again, I wasn’t sure how or why, but I knew that him repeating those same words spoken to me years ago somehow managed to break me.

I shivered against Hotch’s touch. “I think I lied.”

“Y/N, what are you talking about?”

“I don’t think I can do this.” I buried my face in his chest. “I didn’t think it would get to me—but he did. He got to me, Aaron. I’m so sorry. I thought I could handle it.”

“It’s okay, baby. It’s okay.” He winged his arms around me, holding me close as I started to cry against him. “Just breathe.” But I couldn’t, though, so I just grabbed onto his suit jacket and held on for dear life as I kept crying. “We’ve got a positive I.D. It’s over. We can go home, and we can talk about this, forget about this, whatever. It’s going to be okay. You caught him, just like you said you would.”

Yeah, after I was a fucking mess the whole case and couldn’t even listen to the survivor’s testimonial when she came back in to admit she remembered more than she originally let on. I technically failed at my job. Hotch assigned me to lead this case, and instead of stepping up to the plate like I had done every single day while he was halfway across the world, I slowly fell apart until there was nothing left of me except that scared high schooler who felt entirely trapped and alone that summer after it happened.

“Why don’t you go take a breather outside while we wrap up the case officially and I reach out to the D.A. to help them build an airtight case.”

I sucked in a deep and shaky breath. “Okay.”

Hotch kissed the top of my head. “You’re here with me, and I love you more than anything in the world. You’re here with me, and I will protect you from anything and anyone who would ever want to harm you again. Do you know that?”

“I know.”

He hugged me as tight as he could for a short second, then he let me go entirely. As he took a step back, he lifted my chin with his thumb, and using his other hand, he carefully wiped my tears away. “I. Love. You.”

I kissed his fingers as they drifted to my other cheek. “I love you, too.”

“Go catch your breath. I’ll be here when you’re ready.”

I nodded and began stepping around him, heading towards the door with my head lowered so that no one could see my red and puffy face. When I stepped outside, I took in a deep breath of fresh air, letting the wind blow past me and through my hair. I let out a heavy sigh.

And then the door opened again. I looked up, half expecting Hotch to be there, but I was shocked to see that it was Emily. I didn’t say anything to her. I looked down at the concrete and slumped against the wall. After taking a moment to watch me from a distance, Prentiss decided to lean against the wall with me, too. No one said anything for a bit. We just stood there in silence, listening to the different cars as they drove by, and how the birds were chirping on a seemingly normal day. And then the silence broke.

“Hey, why’d you freak out like that?”

I quickly glanced at her, shocked that she was so forward. But then I realized just how off I was, and that if I were in her shoes, I would have been worried, too. So, I answered. Kinda. “It’s nothing, Em. It just got intense in there.”

Honestly, there were only a handful of people who knew the truth about what happened to me. Before joining the BAU, I was the only person who knew. But since joining and since the Fisher King practically ruined the secret, I had to fess up to Morgan. Once Morgan found out, he spent forever trying to convince me that telling Hotch the truth was the right thing to do, and I eventually believed him. When I went to Hotch, he told me that he already knew the truth because Garcia went digging. So, at least three people on the team knew the whole truth. As for everyone else… Well, Elle, Reid, JJ, and Gideon were only told that the photos were just images of me topless at a party. That was it. But Rossi and Emily hadn’t been around at the time, so they didn’t know any of it, and I was completely fine with keeping it that way.

But Emily could still sense that something was wrong. “Y/N, I don’t want to live with regret for not knowing you or for making you feel like you can’t be open with me. This second chance we have should be to recognize that it’s okay to talk to each other.” She shuffled on the balls of her feet. “I think that I have a clue as to what’s going on, but I think that it’s important if you’re just honest with me.”

“So, do you think it’s important to be more honest with your therapist, too, then?” I snipped.

She backed down, even though regret was immediately washing over me, and I was trying to find a way to apologize. “Okay… I, um… Well, I’ll be here if you’re ever ready to talk about—”

“Em, I’m sorry. I just—It’s not you, I swear. It’s just hard to tell people the truth and to explain it. At least with the others on the team, they know part of the story, so it would be somewhat easy to explain, but you don’t know any of it, which means that the truth is going to hit you like a train, and I don’t want to do that to you.”

“I can take it, Y/N.”

I searched her eyes for a moment. Even though I knew that it was true, I was still hesitant to unload all of this on her. But Emily Prentiss was just stubborn as I was. I knew that she wasn’t going to let this go, even if she insisted. So, I decided to tell her the truth. The whole truth.

Afterwards, while she turned and calmly pulled me into an embrace and I hid my face in her shoulder, the door opened again and Hotch stepped out to tell us that there was a problem. Reid, JJ, and Morgan found out that Scobie was too young to be the Piano Man, which meant that he was being set up. Scobie was just a copycat.

“Shit,” I cursed under my breath. I quickly pushed past both of them and hurried into the boardroom to ask Rossi what we knew now that changed the whole fucking profile.

“His music taste,” he explained to me.

I squinted at him. “His music taste? What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“Reid, Morgan, and JJ have been tearing his house apart for evidence proving that he’s the Piano Man—maybe trophies, or even the piano wire he used to hurt them. While they were there, they noticed that all of his music taste is heavy metal. He doesn’t own a single piano ballad.”

Angrily, I turned and threw some of the papers on the desk at the wall. “Fuck!” I kicked the wall, then bit my lip to ignore the wince that left me when it hurt like a bitch. “Fuck,” I whispered under my breath, defeated. “Fuck.” I looked up at him just as Hotch and Emily came in. “How can he not be the Piano Man? We found the gloves, we know he pulled their medical record after the first attacks, and he even repeated Dana’s mantra after she was attacked the second time—” I froze. God fucking dammit. How did we miss that? “Fuck,” I whispered again. “He’s not the Piano Man.” I looked at Hotch. He obviously knew that, so he just shrugged, trying to see where I was going with this. “He’s not a copycat. He’s a doppelganger.” He shrugged again. “He has to know who the Piano Man is if he was able to mimic the attacks.”

That was when it dawned on Hotch. “Prentiss and I will handle it.”

“His lawyer just got here, Aaron, you’re not going to get anything out of him,” Rossi said.

“He’ll talk when he finds out that he’s being set up by the Piano Man. Just like Mill Creek. Right?”

This time, it was my turn to shrug. So, with nothing else to be said, Hotch and Emily left the boardroom again to go talk to Scobie, but this time I followed. I knew that I couldn’t go back into the interrogation room, but I could at least watch from the mirror room. That wasn’t so bad. It was like watching a dangerous animal from behind glass at the zoo.

Scobie’s lawyer groaned when he saw two federal agents coming back into the room. “My client has nothing to say.”

“Good,” Hotch said. “We’d rather he just listen, anyway.”

Sometimes I really wondered what Hotch was like as a prosecutor; but then there were moments like this, or in court for the Matloff trial a couple of years ago, and I realized that if I would have known him then, we would have never gone to work because he would have been too busy keeping my hands off of him. Not that he didn’t already struggle with that. The two of us were incredibly handsy people—our love language was clearly touch—but we at least had enough restraint to save it for when we weren’t working.

“You’re going away for rape, there’s no doubt about it. The question is whether you’ll let your competition hang Vanessa Campbell’s murder on you, too.”

“I didn’t kill her,” Scobie defended calmly. “I didn’t even touch her.”

“From what you’ve told us, we know exactly what you think of women—especially survivors.”

That caught my attention. That was the first time throughout this whole case that I had heard him use the word “survivors” instead of “victims”. He had heard me last night. Even though I was a mess, and we had a long night after talking, he heard that one complaint, and he fixed it. All I could think about was to thank him. Just a defeated, simple “thank you” to let him know that I appreciated that small gesture. It probably didn’t mean anything to him, but it meant the world to me.

“But we know that you don’t think that they’re worth killing. You would rather that they live with what you’ve done to them. So, you didn’t kill Vanessa. In fact, we don’t even think you raped her. But if you don’t want to go away for her murder, you need to tell us who he is or how to find him.”

Scobie didn’t say anything.

Emily jumped in this time. “How do you think we found you? Just like you, he’s going back to his old victims. Only, with Vanessa, he wanted it to make it look like it was you and not him, so he shoved a piece of Neoprene down her throat. That’s how we got you. He’s not on your side, Herman, and he’s not going to protect you. He’s going to make sure you go away for all twelve assault counts and the single murder count. But if you help us right now, you’ll only have four counts of rape.”

“I need to discuss this with my client,” the lawyer insisted.

Hotch shook his head. “No. He talks to us now, or he takes his chances with a jury.”

“I don’t know who he is,” Scobie immediately said. “I just read about what he did in the hospital and insurance records. The weird thing, though, was that I had two chicks picked out to do next. I was going to start with Vanessa, but he got to her first.”

“Who was the other one?”

“Regina Lampert.”

I immediately grabbed my phone and dialed Garcia’s number to have her get in touch with Regina Lampert. We needed to get to her before the Piano Man. So, while Garcia started calling every number Regina had, Hotch and Emily came out of the interrogation room. Garcia let out an annoyed groan in my ear.

“What is it?” I asked, putting the call on speaker.

“She’s not picking up,” she said.

“Keep trying.”

“I am.”

“Garcia, we need a home address or workplace,” Hotch ordered.

“Well, she only works nights at a bar…” She drifted her words as she got lost in thought, then hesitated. “Oh?”

“Oh?” I questioned.

“I found something. I’m sending it to your phone right now.”

Just as the notification buzzed, I opened it. There was security footage from Regina’s work the other night where she went to go confront the man playing the piano.

“He’s taunting her,” Emily said.

“And she knows it, too. Look at her behavior around her versus otherwise,” Hotch said.

We watched as Regina kept her posture strong and tall when she was around him, but the second she was away, her face towards the camera, we saw her break down somewhat. She knew that it was him. He had probably been playing her trigger song at the time, which was why she confronted him, and now it was all coming back to her. Then, come closing time, she actually left with him—but she didn’t look scared anymore. In fact, she was smirking.

“She set herself up as bait,” I whispered.

“His name’s Hamilton Bartholomew,” Garcia began, “and… his wife reported him missing yesterday.”

“Regina knows that he’s her attacker, so she took him before he could take her.”

Hotch looked through the glass to watch as Scobie panicked in his own skin, then he looked back at the security footage on my phone. “Garcia, pull Regina’s rape kit. They found a fingerprint on her glasses after her attack. Compare the fingerprint to Bartholomew’s, please.” Hotch looked at me. “You sure you want to go with us?”

I rolled my eyes at him while thanking Garcia for her help and turned to leave the mirror room. Reid, Morgan, and JJ were back, already pulling their vests off, but I stopped them and let them know that we were headed to Regina Lampert’s house. In the case that the Piano Man was really there, we needed to be prepared. Otherwise, we would just bring her into protective custody. The three of them re-strapped their vests, then Morgan threw mine at me.

I didn’t ride with Hotch this time around. After my meltdown earlier, I didn’t need him to coddle me or ask a thousand questions about whether or not I was alright. I wasn’t alright. But I would be.

Emily got the call from Garcia in the car while I was driving her and Morgan. We got a hit on Hamilton’s DNA matching the Piano Man’s on Regina’s glasses. I started going faster.

At Regina’s house, while I was assigning positions again, just like at Scobie’s house, we heard a gunshot rang. Hotch made the call before I could. Everyone started racing inside behind SWAT, trying to figure out where the shot came from and who shot it. Hotch stepped in my way every time I rushed into another room with my weapon raised, and every time I tried to clear a corner. I groaned at him before turning around and running away from him. He tried to catch up, but by the time he did, he crashed into me in the kitchen where I found Regina standing over Hamilton, pointing a gun at his forehead.

“I got him! I caught him!” she cheered. “This is the Piano Man!”

“No, I’m not! This woman’s crazy!” he cried on the floor. “Please, you’ve gotta help me!”

“Regina, look at me,” I pleaded with her. “Please. Look at me.” When she did, I said, “Drop the gun.”

“I can’t,” she answered while looking back down at him. “I’ve waited five years for this.”

“I know. I know, Regina. I know what that feels like.”

Her gaze snapped back to me.

“Try eleven years, Regina. Eleven. But you don’t see me waving a gun in his face because there are better ways to go about this. I promise.”

The rest of the team came running in, ruining the rapport I had been building with her while she was focused on me and not Hamilton. I cursed under my breath. Hotch should’ve held them back, but he was too concerned about me to just fucking—I’d be mad about it later.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, moving her finger for the trigger.

“Regina!” Emily exclaimed. “Regina, we ran the rape kit to match his DNA, and it’s not him.”

She froze. “What?”

“He’s not the Piano Man. You have the wrong guy.”

“That’s impossible. That’s him. I know it is.”

“If you pull that trigger, you’re gonna kill an innocent man. Drop the gun.”

Regina whimpered as she realized what she had done, and she quickly elected to drop the weapon like we asked her to. Morgan hurried over to pick it up. While he moved out of the way and Emily went to restrain Regina for the next part, I leaned over to help Hamilton to his feet. Hotch held out his cuffs for me. For a moment, I hesitated. I had my own cuffs, and I was capable of making the arrest on my own… Why was he… And then I saw the plea on his face. He wanted me to make the arrest, but he wanted it to be an apology, too. He was sorry for being overprotective when I clearly didn’t need it, he was sorry for all of the lies, he was sorry for what happened to me long before he met me, and he was sorry for acting weird during this case. So, I took the cuffs and silently thanked him.

“Hamilton Bartholomew, you’re under the arrest for the rapes of twelve women and the murder of Vanessa Campbell,” I said while cuffing him. His face immediately dropped as his entire world flipped on its head. I made sure to tighten the cuffs until they hurt. “Asshole.” And then I started reading him his Miranda Rights.

----

When we got back to Virginia, the team headed back to the office to grab some work that had been left around before we left, and to make sure that they had everything from their go-bags so that they could replace them tomorrow. While everyone packed up, I sat down at my desk when I saw that Hotch was just sitting in his office, already nose deep in paperwork. He didn’t seem to be in any rush. I checked my watch to look at the time. It was too late to go anywhere fancy, but there was still time to head to our favorite diner… Or maybe we could just go home and eat something there. Since it was so late, Jack and Scarlet were still at Jessica’s house, which meant that we had the whole house to ourselves. I thought Hotch would’ve been jumping at the chance. He must have forgotten. It was Valentine’s Day, and he forgot. Great.

“Hey. I know that Hotch looks busy up there… on Valentine’s Day… Us loners on the team are heading out for drinks, if you want to come. Hang out with the cool kings like old times,” he teased. I smiled lightly at him before looking back at Hotch. “Hey, sunshine,” Morgan caught my attention again, “I’m sure he didn’t forget. Just come drink with us for a bit.”

“I don’t think—”

“Come on, your three children can afford to not see you for a couple more hours.”

“Three?” I raised a brow. Either he miscalculated or I forgot something very important about myself.

Morgan chuckled and nodded. “You know; Jack, Scar, and Hotch. Three.”

I chuckled with him, “Touché.” My face fell flat again as I turned back to Hotch’s office windows to gauge what he was doing. He seemed so distracted with work, not at all in a rush to sweep me off to somewhere secret and romantic. He really did forget. “Alright,” I answered Morgan’s offer. “Just a few drinks.”

I stood with my things. As we started walking out of the bullpen, Morgan threw his arms across my shoulders, pulling me in for a friendly, reassuring hug. I needed it. While I was putting on a brave face and was trying to feign excitement about going out with the team, I really thought that Hotch and I were going to do something special for Valentine’s. I knew that we had been too tangled up in the case for a reservation somewhere nice. I knew that he was still worried about my reaction after interrogating Scobie, but… I would’ve subbed for him. I trusted him and loved him. I would have done that for our fifth Valentine’s together.

I tried to forget about it all when we stepped into the bar. Rossi had insisted on paying for everyone, so Morgan and I started competing to see who could drink more—which was a helpful way to forget about how sad I was that my own fucking husband forgot what day it was. At least it wasn’t my birthday. Or maybe even our anniversary. But still… It was Valentine’s… How could he forget that?

I drank again.

Emily joined in once she heard about our little competition, but Rossi and Reid stayed out of it. Rossi was gently sipping on a scotch while eyeing a group of women across the bar, probably searching for the fourth Mrs. Rossi. Reid, on the other hand, wasn’t drinking. Well, kinda. He didn’t exactly “drink” like we did, but Rossi got him a soda.

“So, Y/N, it’s Valentine’s Day,” Rossi began. I nodded while picking up my drink. “Why are you here with us instead of ‘training’ with Hotch?”

“Training?” Prentiss inquired before downing another shot.

“Oh, yeah.” Rossi smirked. “They call it jogging; I call it catching them doing it in the car after they’ve jogged all morning.” I nearly spit out my drink. Everyone else laughed along with Rossi. “I’m never going back to that park, I swear it,” he said through his laughs.

I kicked Morgan’s shin under the table to make him stop laughing, but that only seemed to encourage it more.

Suddenly, the door of the bar flew open, letting in the cold winter air, making me shiver. I silently cursed which ever asshole it was that was just standing there. But then the door still didn’t close. I rolled my eyes and sat up straight to look around the back of the booth and yell at whoever it was, but then I stopped when I realized. Hotch. He was standing there, wet and freezing from the rain, holding a bouquet of roses while anxiously glancing around the bar in search of me. Holy shit.

I stood on the seat of the booth, then jumped over the back. Everyone at the table stopped talking to watch what I was doing. Hotch only noticed me when I was running at him, my arms open wide for a hug, and he finally let the door close behind him so that he could catch me. I jumped into his arms. Hotch immediately started kissing me, towering over me when I fell back with the passion he gave me. My back nearly fucking broke before he let up.

“I am… so, so, so, so, so, so—”

“Aaron,” I interrupted his ramble before he could keep going all night.

“I’m so sorry, baby. I’m such a freakin’ idiot.”

“No, you’re not.” I shook my head.

“I swear, I’m going to make it up to you.”

“Mmm…” I slid my hands up his chest. “Well, I still haven’t claimed my prize for winning our jog yesterday…”

Hotch smirked and held my chin up with his fingers. “You’re right. You wanna cash in the win?”

I nodded and bit my lip. “More than anything.”

He leaned down slowly and kissed me. “Okay.” He kissed me again. “I love you.”

“I love you, too…” I flung my arms around his neck and let him hold me close for a moment as we continued to kiss passionately, hardly pulling back for air.

The team, still sitting at the table behind us, started whistling and cheering us on. Hotch and I finally parted completely, separating and turning so that we could look at the team, both of us glowing a bright pink with a blush. Rossi raised his cup at us.

“Go train, you two!” Emily teased. Morgan held her bicep as he almost toppled over with laughter. “Happy Valentine’s, or whatever. Don’t make it a free show next time.”

“She’s got a point,” Garcia added.

Hotch spun me around and gently pushed me towards the door. “Goodnight, you guys. Don’t get too drunk.”

“You are three drinks too late, my friend,” Rossi replied.

Hotch caught my waist as I pushed on the doors of the bar and stepped out into the cold Virginian winter air. I laughed as I fell against him. He lifted me slightly and pulled me close before spinning us around in a circle. I laughed harder and started hitting gently at his hands to force him to let go of me, but he did no such thing. It wasn’t until someone else came out of the bar that he relented. I stumbled on my feet, then turned to face him. I held his face in my hands, staring at how handsome he was in the moonlight, and how I loved him more than anything in the world, and that I would literally die for him if I had to. I never felt like that with anyone else before. I mean, there was one person that I had loved before him, but this was… real… This was infinite. It felt like being at home and being endlessly safe when I was in his arms and looking at him. How did I get so lucky?

“Are you going to stare all night or are we going to head home?” he whispered.

“Little bit of both.”

He chuckled. “I love you, Y/N Hotchner.”

I tangled my fingers in his hair. “I love you, Aaron Hotchner.”

And then we kissed again.

-----------

criminal minds family: @gorgeousdarkangel @peggy1999 @alex--awesome--22 @oceaneblu @brithedemonspawn @absolutemarveltrash @bshelley322 @rousethemouse @sunshinepower17 @weexinling @pettttyyyc​ @Braty-angel

[alyasgf]

Reveals?

Part 5 of Everything’s Gonna Be Okay || Masterlist

Word Count- 2615

AO3

Notes- Crazy how I’ve had this chapter drafted for the longest. I went through a spout of hating all of my writing so I wasn’t really motivated. I pretty much just wrote Alyanette until I felt confident enough to continue this so,, yay here we are a couple months later, sorry for the wait.

Begin

She’d never say it aloud, but she adored her partner. She admired him for his optimism, loyalty, and how stupidly brave he could be during battles.

As she detransformed on her bed her mind also wandered to Adrien. It did that a lot recently, flipping back and forth between both blonde boys. It confused her heart, but still she knew it belonged to Adrien, as it always had, as it always would. With his soft laughs and softer smiles, Marinette couldn’t believe she was lucky enough to have him.

She laid there, staring up dreamily toward the night sky and holding her hands to her heart until a shadow obscured her view.

She heard a small knock and smiled. Did this stray ever go home?

She opened her sky light and stuck her head out.

“To what do I owe the pleasure savior of Paris?”

In the dim moonlight she could see Chat’s eyes crinkle as he smiled.

“I request your company, and perhaps some sustenance?” He said in an overly formal tone as he kneeled before her.

She laughed before inviting him in.

As he climbed down into her room she could see the glow in his eyes. Something about him was different, he seemed happier.

Most of the times that he would come Marinette could see a lonely sad look break through when he thought she wasn’t looking. It’s not that she minded of course, if she could be a form of comfort for Chat like he was for her she’d take it in a heartbeat.

“I have some chocolate pastries here, although they aren’t too fresh.” She offered him as he crossed the room over to her desktop. She didn’t normally make a habit of keeping food in her room, but Tikki had been snacking. Hopefully she wouldn’t mind too much if Chat stole a few.

“Sounds great Marinette.” He called over his shoulder as he sat in her desk chair and sat in front of her computer.

“What do you say we find some two player game on here and- oh.” Chat stopped mid-sentence and Marinette turned around from grabbing a pastry to see what had happened.

Apparently she forgot to close out the folder of Adrien’s ad photos she had saved on her computer.

She turned bright red as she ran over to the computer and quickly closed it out.

“That’s uh... research! Yeah research on some Gabriel designs!” She lied, facing her back towards Chat so he wouldn’t notice the blush now spreading down her neck.

“Right, well if it were research on Gabriel designs, why only have pictures of Adrien? Other models wear Gabriel brand clothes.” She could practically hear the teasing smirk on his face.

She turned to wack him softly on the shoulder. “Keep on this topic and I’ll make you watch me eat the pastries right here!” She threatened.

Chat held his hands up in mock surrender. “Woah so sorry Adrien Agreste fan #1.” He teased again.

In response Marinette took a large bite out of the pastry she had planned to give him. She made sure to make a show of it, with accompanying sound effects and an exaggerated sigh after she finished chewing.

“Marinette you wound me!” Chat whined, crossing his arms in a dramatic childlike fashion.

Marinette stopped to think about how adorable his pout was before she laughed and went to grab the second pastry.

“Test me again and there will be no more sweets when you come over.” She bluffed.

Chat practically snatched the snack from her hands.

“Then I’d have no reason to come back.” He said through a stuffed mouth.

“No, I think you enjoy my company too much.” She gloated before pulling up a chair beside him. “Now what game did you want to play?”

They spent the next two hours playing fireboy and watergirl, where Marinette was shocked to find they made an incredible team.

——————————————

The akuma was hard, there was no denying that. The akuma called itself Obedience. Anyone struck with its ray was forced to do what ever it said, as though playing a game of simon says with dire stakes.

Marinette regretted staying up so late with Chat the night before. How he managed to have the amount of energy he did was astounding.

Chat had already used his cataclysm and Ladybug had used her lucky charm to set up a trap, all they had to do was lead Obedience into it.

Unfortunately, they needed to charge up before that, seeing as the beeping of their miraculous was giving its final warning before it was going to give up.

They landed on a distant building and de-transformed behind opposite sides of a pillar.

“M’lady do you have any extra snacks? Plagg ate up all his cheese before the battle and I didn’t have time to restock.” Chat called from the other side of the stone divider.

Ladybug giggled. “Looks like you need to learn how to control your friend Chaton. Here.” She reached out with a macaroon for Chat to take.

Her curiosity got the best of her and she couldn’t help but admire his hand as he reached over to take the sweet.

Soft and flawless, other than the messy blue nail polish that glowed in the sunlight. At first she didn’t think anything of it.

“Going for a new look kitty?” She asked lightheartedly as Tikki refueled.

“What? Oh you mean my nails. Well, I had someone paint them for me yesterday and I guess I distracted them too much and they made a mess.” He replied absentmindedly.

Wheels began to turn in Marinette’s brain, but unsure as to why, she didn’t try to make them stop.

“Oh, someone painted them? They look cute, did someone finally take in this alley cat?”

“For someone who hates puns, you really do use a lot of cat related metaphors toward me bug. And as a matter of fact I do, and she’s my girlfriend.” He bragged. “Plagg claws out!”

Ladybug transformed as well and was going to make a joke before a few dot connected before her. Messy blue nails. A girlfriend who painted them the day before. That nail polish looked all too familiar. She tried to push it down, but the dots were already connected.

Suddenly she flashed back to Chat Noir seeing her folder of Adrien photos last night and she felt sick to her stomach.

“Hey bug? You ready to kick this akuma Chat style?”

Ladybug snapped out of her trance. Even if everything that she just thought of was true, there was still an enemy to defeat. She could fully panic later.

“I think you mean Ladybug style. Now let’s go.”

They only just managed to get to the Eiffel Tower before they heard her again.

“Where are you Ladybug and Chat Noir? Don’t you know good children come when they’re called?” Obedience sang from a few streets over.

Chat strode over to lure her to the trap.

“Well maybe this kitty needs to be put in time out.” He replied leaning on his baton juvenilely.

“Oh no sweet boy, bad children must be taught better!” She pointed cane at him and an array of vegetables began to shoot out at him.

“Oh no! I’m afraid already perfectly healthy ma’am!” He leapt and dodged as he lead her straight to Ladybug.

As he turned the corner, there she stood, hands defiantly on her hips a couple of feet away. He scampered around a very large pool of a certain substance that was hardly noticeable unless you knew what you were looking for.

He took his side beside his lady as Obedience followed behind him.

“I’ve got you now tomcat!” Obedience turned the corner too fast and slipped straight into the street filled with a ridiculous amount of oil.

She screamed as she slid, and in her fall her cane flew from her fingers. It’s momentum led it straight toward them. Ladybug stopped it with the bottom of her shoe, and stomped on it with a satisfied grin.

Once she let the akuma go and threw the now empty bottle of oil to reverse the effects of the akuma, she turned to Chat.

“Pound it!” She said it with her usual confidence, but Chat could see something else lingering in her eyes.

But he was supposed to be practicing piano at the moment so he didn’t exactly have too much time to question her about it.

“Pound it.” He replied, touching his fist to hers.

————————-

“Tikki spots off.”

Ladybug de-transformed in her room and immediately began pacing.

“Crap crap crap crap! Tikki I accidentally figured out his identity! How could I be so careless as to look at his hands? Why did I care that much.”

Tikki sighed as she sat on Marinette’s desk. Sometimes it was best to let her get it all out.

“Well obviously I cared that much because Chat Noir is my recently established boyfriend! God he’s going to get such an ego boost when he finds out we’re dating.” Marinette threw herself face first into her chaise.

“So you’re going to tell him?” Tikki zipped over to hove beside her holder’s head.

There was a muffled response from the chair.

“What was that Marinette?”

“No, not yet. First I want to see how much he knows, if he knows anything at all.” Marinette rolled over on the chaise, laying as though she were at a therapists appointment.

“Tikki do you think this will effect our relationship? Will it put us in danger?”

Tikki’s little heart warmed.

“Marinette, you guys will be fine. If anything I think this would bring you closer together. If it puts you in any more danger you’ll handle it together, like you always do.” Tikki flew closer to hug Marinette’s cheek and Marinette let out a deep sigh as she brought a hand up to hug Tikki back.

“Thanks Tikki. You’re the best kwamii anyone could ask for.” Marinette said as the stress melted off of her.

“And you’re the best Ladybug I’ve ever known.” She replied warmly.

Of course things would work out. This was Chat she was talking about, Adrien. There wasn’t a problem he couldn’t help her solve, with or without the masks.

————————-

After going over Tikki’s advice for what felt like hours, Marinette came to a conclusion.

She would tell Chat Noir (Adrien?) who she was. It was only fair, considering she knew his identity. She wouldn’t have came to this on her own, so for the millionth time in her life she thanked Tikki.

But first, she needed to have a little fun. She noticed how Adrien would tease her lately for how flustered she got around him, so she figured the least she could do was use this moment to get revenge.

Too excited to sit still, she transformed to confront her boyfriend.

———————

Adrien was laying in bed reading manga when he heard a tapping at his window. He looked over in shock to see his lady waiting outside.

“Ladybug?” He nearly stuttered out.

She was glowing in the moonlight, backlit in all her glory. She had a playful grin in her lips that made Adrien uneasy.

“Hey pretty boy, mind if I pop in?” She asked casually, as if it were totally normal for Adrien Agreste to have a spotted heroine outside of his window.

He calmed his heart, remembering this was his dorky girlfriend and invited her in. He had to remember to act friendly, not like he would with Marinette, nor like he would as Chat Noir. This wouldn’t be easy.

“Your nails look cute.” She offered casually as she sauntered over to sit in his desk chair.

Adrien froze. Ladybug had noticed Chat Noir’s earlier too.

He quickly pushed that thought away. Marinette had been oblivious of his identity up until this point, even after the thousands of clues he’d managed to drop. He wasn’t exactly concerned anymore.

He decided to take advantage of the chance to compliment his girlfriend without her being able to completely reject it.

“Yeah my girlfriend painted them! She’s so cute and sweet and pretty.” He replied dreamily.

He could see Ladybug’s eyes widen and her blush grow. This was going great.

“Did you need something?” He asked innocently.

“I- uh-“ Adrien laughed, his girlfriend really wasn’t too different outside of the suit. Flustered and flushed, she was still Marinette.

Suddenly something in her eyes changed. One second they were wide and almost panicked, the next they were full of suspicion.

“You know don’t you!” She accused more than asked. She stalked over and jabbed a finger lightly into his chest.

Now it was Adrien’s turn to panic.

“Know what?” He asked, hoping to play dumb.

“You do!”

So much for feigning innocence. Instead he opted for begging for forgiveness.

“Marinette, i’m so sorry! It’s just I knew you’d panic if I told you when I found out and it’s not like I tried to figure out your identity! It’s just that you put so much effort into the whole kwamiibuster scheme-“

“You’ve known since kwamiibuster?!” She practically shouted.

“-and you looked so cute.” Adrien added still trying to lighten the blow. “I didn’t tell anyone and I’ve known for a while and nothing bad happened so I figured-“

Ladybug cut off his rambling with a kiss.

Adrien was stunned at first but then ultimately sighed into the kiss as he leaned into her touch. His arms looped around her waist as he pulled her close, hands tracing patterns into her spandex covered back.

He pulled pack slightly, noses still touching. He could feel her breath ghost his lips.

“So we’re okay?” He asked hopefully, eyes looking deep into hers as they caught their breath.

“Of course, minou. I just wish you would’ve told me before you saw that embarrassing folder on my computer.” She blushed.

“Oh? But then I wouldn’t be able to tease you about it. Tell me, which one was your favorite? Do you think the greens really brought out my eyes?”

“You’re the worst!” She exclaimed, attempting to pull from his embrace. Adrien’s arms held her fast in place.

“You love me!” He announced proudly as he pulled her into a tight hug. “Ladybug is dating Chat Noir!”

“Would you be quiet! I don’t want to have to explain to Nathalie why Paris’ superhero is standing in your room.” She giggled into Adrien’s shoulder.

“Ladybug is dating Chat Noir” He whispered, this time softer as he nuzzled her neck.

“Yes she is.” Ladybug sighed, resigning to Adrien’s touch.

“Now,” He released the girl as he turned and clasped his hands together. “de-transform. We’ve had plenty of date night in your room-“

“Those weren’t technically dates” She interjected.

“-And not enough in mine.” He gave her a pointed look as he continued. “Of course, since it’s my room, I have full say in what we watch.” He could hear Marinette’s pout as she de-transformed. “But I’ll take suggestions.”

Marinette crossed over to where Adrien was pacing in anticipation and threw her arms around his shoulders from behind. She placed a quick kiss on the base of his neck.

“New Girl again!” She said excitedly.

“No.”

[retvenkos]

Congrats on 2.5k!! You're an amazing artist, and have no idea on how many times I've read your fics 😂 even tho I'm kinda shy to comment... sorry, I'll try to work on that 😅 Can I get a 🔥 for Narnia, Newsies and Harry Potter Next-Generation?

I'm a straight girl, INFP, Hufflepuff, Daughter of Athena (in Percy Jackson universe 😂). I really like to read, and watch movies or TV series, theater or... anything that tells a story, I really don't care about the media as long as they have a good story to tell. I also really like writing, I really write a lot about what I think, or some poems, or even have tried writing songs, but I have no music knowledge so... lol. I really love music, I've loved music since I can remember, and I'm currently trying to learn how to play guitar.

To me, the most important thing that I have are my friends, I appreciate them more that anything in this life and would give my life for them. But I'm not an affectionate person, it's kind of rare when I'm openly about how much I love them, and only with real close friends I tell them a little more often how much they mean to me, and I'm not really into physical touch either, just with really close people.

I love long talks where I can talk about... anything. I have so many thoughts about so many things, and I'd really like to share them with someone, and that person to tell me what they think too. I'm open minded, and if someone doesn't agree with me it's ok, but I really like to debate and be able to see everyone's point of view.

I don't tend to say when I'm feeling down, and I'm kind of good at hiding it, (I hide my feelings with humor lol) so... I have to be really sad to let people know about it (and just really close ones). I don't feel comfortable letting other people know when I'm not feeling well, and even if they know it's still rare that they could help me so... I just feel with it on my own (even tho it would be nice to have someone there sometimes). On the contrary, I'm always there to help everyone. Most my friends come to me for advice and I help them the best I can. So... I'm kind of the therapist friend that no one check how is doing lol

You could say I'm kind of a geek? Nerd? Whatever xD but I like to have fun (like... it's easier to get out of trouble when you're one of the "good kids" in class 👀 I still follow most of the rules tho, just know how to have my ways sometimes). I'm kind of the stereotype for Ravenclaw, but I'm a Hufflepuff xD so yeah... I really like music, and musical theater, and lots of reading. Love to spend time with my friends, but really enjoy time with myself. I spend most of my day daydreaming, and don't like to follow rules lol (But I'm the voice of reason with my friends. I don't like rules, but follow them... if it's necessary) . I hate people who are selfish, or that don't care about others. Also hate people who manipulate others or that get into "friendships" just to get something out of it (those are fake friends so).

So... yeah, that's it. I'm sorry if it's a lot, and no problem if you can't do it 😅 (also, I would love some rivals-to-lovers? If it's possible). Really love your work 💕

Pd. Sorry for my bad English 😅

HP Next Gen:

I ship you with James Sirius Potter!

so first of all, james sirius is one of those dorky jocks who is made up of lame jokes, poorly timed finger-guns, an inexplicable talent in school (despite rarely studying), and persuasion skills that somehow work on even the strictest of teachers.

it is from this that the rivalry between you is born. james sirius potter doesn’t have to do anything! he can run a hand through his god awful hair, give a teacher a grin, and his entire year is set. he can skip lessons for quidditch, where you get extra work when you were sick with dragon pox! it’s not fair that james sirius potter gets to waltz through this school like he’s all that, and the rest of you have to suffer.

at first, the rivalry wasn’t that bad, you just rolled your eyes in class whenever his obnoxious “thanks, professor” was heard over the din, or whenever you went to quidditch matches and he showed off on his broom, instead of doing his job as seeker (at which he was pretty good, not that you’d admit it).

BUT THEN,,,,, you become herbology partners, and things get bad. fast.

you get that harry potter is friends with neville but really? neville, head of gryffindor house, the most just of gryffindors, is letting james sirius potter leave class 20 minutes early because he has quidditch practice? practice that, mind you, doesn’t start until AFTER class has ended? your professor leaves you to do the work of two people all on your own because james sirius potter said it was cool that neville cut the head off of nagini? come on! everyone says that!

so you end up having to do extra work, which leaves less time for your other classes, and you have to do it in herbology - a class that has the potential to be deadly when difficult. 

it’s not a week until you march up to gryffindor tower (which is a pain on the legs, especially since your common room is in the basement) and wait for james sirius to show his sorry face. he doesn’t come down until lunch time, and then you have to follow him down to the great hall, because he “didn’t have breakfast” and he needs to eat “for quidditch.” it’s annoying, and yet he’s smiling the whole time?

you tell him he can’t leave class early - you almost had your finger bitten off the other day because no one else was there to hold down the plant while you tried to pick off it’s petals.

he says he can’t, but he’ll do your essays or whatever. “that’s plagiarism, you realize that?” “alright, then i’ll give you my notes.” “you don’t take notes.” “then i’ll start.”

and this is clearly going nowhere, so you sigh and leave.

it’s probably not even two weeks later when you are going to neville. he’s the head of gryffindor house and the one who made this arrangement. can’t he do something? the professor tells you that he chose you to team up with james sirius because he knows you can handle it on your own - and then he gave you some lame excuse about why james sirius needed the extra time, something about him about to be promoted to team captain at the end of the year or whatever.

and next class, for the little time that james sirius is working with you, he teases you about how you went to the professor. it annoys you to no end.

about a week later, you come down with a cold - madam pomfrey says a lot of it is due to stress, and while she gives you a potion to help you out, your still sick for two days. the day you get better, it’s the weekend and you get up early with the plan to get to the teachers before the quidditch game starts and ask beg them for less homework, or at the very least pick up what you missed. it’s early - almost everyone is still asleep, and when you walk out of the common room, you see..... james sirius potter? he asks if you’re alright - he heard you were sick for a couple days. you’re a little too tired for this, so you just answer his questions, no complaining. he then hands you a stack of parchment. “what is this?” “notes, for the classes you missed.” “oh.” “and i know how you feel about the rules, so i didn’t actually write you a herbology essay, but i did give you a good outline.” “oh.... thanks.” “’course.” and he gives you one of his awkward smiles and a solitary finger gun. you roll your eyes, but wish him luck in the game. he’s a little shocked, but you say it’s against ravenclaw, and their egos need to be taken down a peg.

and from there you are a little softer toward james sirius, but he’s still annoying as hell.

i have a very vivid idea of you having gone to a quidditch game, and gryffindor, of course, won. you decide to wait in the stands until everyone clears out, because it’s easier that way, and you want to finish your popcorn, anyway. james sirius has lingered on the pitch with the current quidditch captain, and when he sees that you’re one of the few still lingering, he goes up to meet you. he sits down next to you and steals a bit of you popcorn, which makes you roll your eyes, and he says something like “i didn’t expect you to wait for me.” “i wasn’t.” “sure.” and the two of you sit there for a moment, james coming down from the high of winning, sharing the remnants of your popcorn. it starts to drizzle and james uses his wand to make an umbrella, and the two of you start up a conversation about whatever - definitely not school related, and not even quidditch related, just something out of the blue. it’s not until all of the popcorn is gone and it’s raining in earnest that the two of you walk to the castle, james laughing at his own jokes and you smiling despite yourself.

i also imagine that, when the two of you become better friends, james sirius has a quidditch accident where he maybe breaks his arm or something. you get to go into mom mode, and james sirius teases you, saying that he “didn’t know you cared.” and it’s reminiscent of the dialogue above, but instead of denying it, you say “of course i do, you idiot.”

alright i went off (and now i want to write a fic about this) but i think the two of you would be really cute together because james sirius would love to talk with you about everything. he has a whole lot of siblings, and as the oldest is great at keeping conversation and he’s also actually really good at reading a room, despite what he may pretend. he would know when you’re feeling bad, and he’s also really good at accurately finding your insecurities and then boosting your self-esteem in exact ways.

and i also think that you and james sirius are music enthusiasts. if you are a pureblood, he introduces you to the wonders of muggle music, and if you are a half-blood or muggle born, you bond over your favorite muggle artists.

also, i have this headcanon that james sirius learns the guitar so he can be a certified heartthrob™ and no doubt he got the idea from you - you were in the hufflepuff common room just messing around, and he notices your guitar. maybe you learn together?

and while james sirius isn’t much of a reader, he loves movies more than anything else, so the two of you definitely have marathons.

Narnia:

I ship you with Peter Pevensie!

alright, the two of you would have the sweetest, most supportive relationship I’ve ever had the pleasure of writing

this one is a certified friends to lovers because from day one, the two of you get along really well together. even though peter is a little more extroverted, he’s the older brother and has a lot of introverted tendencies because he’s tired™

there is nothing that peter would love more than going on a walk through the gardens with you, talking about your interests - he likes to steer the topics to what you like to do because (1) he likes the way your eyes light up when you talk about what you love, and (2) he is tired of talking about himself. as king, he’s only ever talking about the problems he’s facing, or big problems that cover all of narnia. the smaller interests you have are his respite, his chance to have a bit of normalcy, as a high king.

you are also both hufflepuffs, so you’re fiercely loyal to those you love, and you’re both hard workers - stopping at nothing to do what needs to be done. you are both there to bolster the other in their efforts, but also get them to relax at the end of the day, since caring as much as you do and working as much as you do is the definition of exhausting.

you’re also the parent couple! we have peter, the dad friend (complete with the worst dad jokes you have ever heard. they’re even worse when they’re “king” jokes which are like dad jokes 2.0) and you, the mom friend! together, you make sure that your friends (and subjects) are well taken care of. and you act like stand in parents for edmund and lucy, which is not only exhausting but rewarding.

now, even though peter is a very affectionate person, more than that he’s thoughtful and the moment he realizes you don’t like that, he’ll stop. he’s more than happy to just be near you - reading books or pouring over documents with your input (because he definitely gets your input on issues of state). 

he also becomes big on getting you flowers or making you food (because headcanon that peter learns to cook in the cair paravel kitchens!). peter just has a lot of feelings, and as long as he has a way to express them, he’s good. 

he loves it when you give him praise, so whenever the two of you are stargazing and you compliment him, he blushes deeply. use this power wisely, because he will blush a deep red, and it’s a little awkward when he’s the definition of heart eyes in the middle of a privy council.

Newsies:

I ship you with Crutchie!

alright, so you and crutchie are, once again, a really sweet couple.

crutchie loves your way with words - you have a tiny notebook that he got you as a present, one year, and you are constantly writing poetry in them. you will often show him your work, and he’s astounded with your level of craftsmanship. he’s told you on multiple occasions that you should write one of those poetry books that he sees well-to-do men buy for those they love, and you get al bashful, one of his favorite looks.

also, both of you are dreamers. you definitely have lots of talks together, usually when you’re doing something absent minded like mending clothes or selling on the same corner, and you talk at length about what you want for this world, and what you hope to do in it. crutchie has a big imagination, and so do you. sometimes, the two of you see who can make up the best, most random story.

also! in a high school! au the two of you are the sweetest, most unsuspecting rule breakers ever. i mean, you’re friends with race and albert, after all, there has to be a chaotic streak in you somewhere. everyone is genuinely surprised when they realize that you and crutchie have snuck out of class and pulled the fire alarm before.

the two of you are also big readers. i imagine that crutchie likes mystery novels a lot. idk why, exactly, but he loves sherlock holmes, so the two of you not only read books together, but rate the different versions of sherlock holmes adaptations. (modern! au, of course, unless benedict cumberbatch is making tv series in 1899)

you debate over which of you is watson and which one of you is holmes. you’re both really smart, so it’s hard to say which one of you gets sherlock rights.

also, both of you are really good at hiding when you are hurting or in pain. and yet, both of you are also really good at spotting it in the other, seeing as you know the tells of hiding. i think you are both really empathetic and would be good with each other - leaning on each other when necessary and always being attentive of the other. all around, you’re a great match.

also, in a modern! au crutchie would love the percy jackson series. the two of you would riot over the terrible live-action movie and be very excited when the disney+ series comes out (here’s to hoping they don’t botch it)

[uncloseted]

1/2

1/2

1/2 Hi. I think I could use some help, I'll try to make this short. When I was 14yo (I'm 20 now) I dated a 18yo guy, thank God we were taking it slow and never made things official. Now that I'm older I can see that relash was rlly wrong. He was manipulating, used me to boost his ego, forced me to do things I wasn't comfortable doing and I think although we weren't official, he cheated on me? (more on that later). After a few months of fooling around, I found out something about him that I didn't like and confronted him about it, with the intention of ending that relash. He started begging me not to leave him, asking me tricky questions about the things I had heard of him with the intention of "making me realize" he did nothing wrong, and he even became violent with the person who told me those things, to the point I couldn't break up with him because I was scared. I just stopped answering his texts and calls because I was afraid of even talking to him and eventually he took the hint and suggested we broke up. We decided to stay friends, but that only lasted a few days, because one day, via Facebook Messenger, he suggested we got back together and I rejected him, so he blocked me. Months later, I had to close my Facebook due to harassment (not related to him) and opened a new one. Facebook showed me his profile in 'people you may know' and I decided to peek out of curiosity. Turns out, the moment we broke up, he started uploading photos with his new girlfriend. The descriptions of those pics said the exact same things he used to tell me, and I ain't good a math but I did some calcs and he had to be with her while still being with me lmao. I really didn't care, I was just happy I got rid of him, and I moved on with my life. Some time later I fell head over heels for a guy from my workplace, who I still hold close to my heart. I have trust issues and I am a very private person, especially with my relashs, so I didn't tell anyone about this guy except from like 3 friends. One of them was a girl (that we'll call Anne) who was like a sister to me, and was also friends with my ex. Over the next 2 years I had a relash with this guy, everytime I talked to Anne I used to tell her more details about my relash. Then, one day, I got a text from my ex. He texted me like we were besties and nothing had ever happened between us, like he didn't block me TWICE (yeah, he blocked me from my new Facebook too even though I never tried to reach out to him). I was angry at his nerve and told him so, he realized I was upset and changed his persona from confident and tough as nails to regretful and soft, telling me he was sorry for being so immature all those years before, but excusing his shitty behavior by saying he always "kept an eye on me". Um, wtf? He told me he was always asking stuff about me to Anne, looking out for me. I wanted to know what exactly he knew, but, trying to manipulate me again, he said he would only tell me if I accepted to play a game with him: I could ask him one question if he would ask me one in exchange and so on, and we had to be ttly honest with each other. I really didn't wanna get into his shenanigans but I only had one question (wtf do u exactly know about me, creep?) so I accepted. He asked his question first (dID u fEeL sAd wHeN i bLoCkEd U?) and I asked mine. I thought he maybe knew something about my school stuff and MAYBE that I had been dating someone else. Turns out he knew every. single. detail about my personal life. Not only he KNEW I was with other guy...

2/2 Not only he KNEW I was with other guy. He knew his entire name, the school he attended and every little detail from our relationship and other stuff about my personal life. Every single thing I told Anne, opening my heart to her, she told him. I felt terribly violated. I felt like a dissected frog, open for anyone to see my most inner parts. I felt ashamed, unprotected, sad and angry, all at the same time. I told him what he did was disgusting, to never reach me again or try to "keep an eye on me", and that I would make that job easier for him by getting Anne out of my life. He apologized, said he understood the situation, would respect my wishes, and wished me a happy life. I thought that was it. It took me a while but I got to heal, to feel safe again, although I still have a hard time trusting my friends. But I was wrong. Months later he sent me a Friend Resquest. I was a lil afraid, but tried to calm myself saying he probably just was checking if I was still upset, so I rejected the request and again convinced myself that was really it. But then he sent some girls to take pictures of me during my high school graduation ceremony and recently, his cousin (who was my friend when we were 14 but haven't talked since) texted me. I know that sometimes nostalgia makes you reach out to old friends, but we weren't close at all. Besides, he acted super weird, didn't even try to make small talk or let the convo flow naturally, but went straight for super specific and weird questions: are you studying college? what are you doing with your life? are you in a relationship? I was really weirded out and considered the possibility he may have been asking all those things because my ex asked him to do so, so I kept my answers short and vague, not giving him the info he wanted, and although I def came out as cutting, he kept asking. I tried to still be friendly because I didn't wanna seem paranoid, but I think he realized I wasn't telling him anything over texts, so he asked me to meet again over some beers with his friends on October 27th and that's when I stopped answering. I thought about that strange invitation for a few days until it hit me: October 27th is my ex's birthday. So much about respecting my wishes. I spent the rest of that month really nervous that cousing would try to reach out again, but nothing happened and I started to feel calmed again. Until, in November, he wrote me again, this time asking me if I wanted to go to the beach with his friends. I haven't even bother to open that text. Since them, I've been super paranoid. I know my ex's attacks aren't that consecutive (more like every two years: he contacted me and sent me that friend request when I was 16, hijacked my graduation at 18 and now sends his cousin at 20) but I can't help but think he's always there "keeping an eye on me" and planning his next move. I stopped accepting any friend requests because I'm afraid he will send someone for me, and if someone I already have on my friend list but idk texts me and after some small talks asks me about my life, I get paranoid and ask them why they wanna know and if they have some hidden intentions. Also, there's a mall near his house, and everytime I have to go there to buy something, I feel like crying because I'm afraid I'll stumble with him. I probably sound crazy. Some people may think I'm exaggerating and I should just let my ex stalk me and act all obsessed, but I feel dirty everytime I think about him knowing my personal stuff. It was just so traumatizing the first time. Do you get me? I feel like nobody gets me. Please help me, what can I do? I don't know how to make him stop, I'm tired of living in fear.

Not to start this off with an unrelated thought, but when did Tumblr get rid of its character limit on asks? I don’t think I’ve ever seen it let someone send in a message this long in one ask.

To get to your situation, I can definitely see why this would be a stressful and uncomfortable situation for you.  The first thing I would do is to stop interacting with your ex and people related to your ex.  You don’t owe his cousin anything.  Block both of their numbers, block their social media accounts, etc., and do that for everyone else who’s friends with your ex (or put them on limited profile/create a “close friends” list on social media).  Tell all of your friends in no uncertain terms that you don’t want them talking about you to your ex, even if it’s stuff that seems harmless, and cut those people off if they do talk to your ex about you.  

The other action you could take is to file a restraining order.  If you go down that route, you’ll have to fill out some forms and file them with the court, and then have a hearing with a judge where you explain your situation.  Then, you’ll have a second appearance in court where the stalker is present, and you both get the opportunity to explain the situation.  The judge will then determine the final order and the conditions of that order.  It can be a bit of an involved process, but it may give you some peace of mind.

The last thing I would suggest is going to therapy.  It seems like you’ve been through something traumatic, and a mental health professional can help you to work through that and move on from it.  There are many options for therapy, both online and in-person.  If you have health insurance, your insurance should cover at least some therapy sessions.  If not, some therapists provide services on a sliding-scale, and online services like BetterHelp can be less expensive than traditional therapy. 

[collecting-stories]

PT 5 | Modern!Ivar

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5

There was nothing that could have possibly made this visit worse. Since moving out to go to college Ivar had taken full control of his medical needs. He took himself to his own doctor’s appointments, physical therapy, and anything else that he required. It wasn’t something he had really considered important until he moved out and had some level of freedom. Now he couldn’t imagine not being able to navigate his own medical care, though he didn’t have to imagine it for too long. With Aslaug visiting before the holiday he was forced to bring her to the last of his doctor’s appointments before he was able to go home for Christmas.  

“You don’t need to be here,” Ivar stated for the hundredth time as he sat in the exam room waiting for the first of the onslaught to come through the door. Clinic visits were the worst in his opinion, only because it was a barrage of nurses, therapists, doctors, social workers, and nutritionists. All with the best intention and all determined to get Ivar to do things he didn’t want to do. Like join support groups or consider learning more everyday skills like cooking.  

“I haven’t been to a doctor’s appointment with you in almost a year Ivar, indulge me just this once.” Aslaug requested, setting her bag down on the chair beside her and pulling out her notepad and pen. His mother was nothing if not obsessed with taking notes during these appointments, in case she needed to dig up some obscure suggestion from years prior to nag him about. If only he’d learned to peddle that stupid hand bike when he was eleven, then he would be more social surely.  

Before he could argue further with her a knock came at the closed door. It opened a crack and Ivar felt his stomach flip in anxiousness as you appeared in the entryway. “Hey, just thought I’d come in first before the parade begins.” As you walked fully into the exam room you caught sight of Ivar’s mother, sitting there appraising you. “Hi, you must be Mrs. Ragnarsson, I’m Ivar’s physical therapist.”  

“Nice to meet you. I told my husband that everyone just keeps getting younger and younger when I go to the doctor’s.” She noted, jotting down your name in her notepad.

“That’s true,” you brushed off the jab, “I actually shadowed Ivar’s old therapist last year, so we’re a bit familiar with each other.”  

“Oh I so loved her, she was a wonderful lady.”

“She was.” You nodded and turned your attention to your boyfriend, who looked very much like he wanted to sink into the floor. “So, I’m just going to do basic measurements. I’d usually stay longer but I’ve got a few other patients in before the holiday.”

“So no goals to discuss for after break?” Aslaug asked. She watched as you sat down on the stool and rolled it over to her son’s chair.  

“Well I just had Ivar in yesterday for therapy, I can email you my chart if you’d like to see what gameplan we made for the coming year. As Ivar knows I’m stepping into a more pediatric position after the end of next year. I’ll be taking on more cases that focus on younger kids and some of the older patients will be transitioning into the adult hospital.” You replied, trying to focus on your work as you spoke.  

It had been over chinese food, after Ivar told you he loved you and he wanted you to spend the holiday with him that you broke the news about your shift in job positions. It was a blessing really, and though he wasn’t thrilled with the idea of getting used to a new therapist in a years time he knew that you not being his PT anymore meant that you could openly date him. Something you reassured him you had taken into consideration when you accepted the job offer. You also didn’t miss the opportunity to point out that working with kids would mean working with people who were actually nice to you and did what you asked.  

“I always do what you ask.”

“Rarely.” You pointed out, “Almost only on Fridays.”

“Last Wednesday I did that stupid leg exercise and practiced transitioning myself down on the floor and back into my chair.” He pointed out.

“Yeah but you only agreed to the last one to show off.” You retorted.

“Maybe.” Ivar grinned, knowing it was true. He couldn’t deny that knowing you were physically attracted to him was always a massive ego boost and he definitely enjoyed the little grin you always had watching him doing anything physical.  

The exam room door opened to let in both the social worker and the nutritionist, breaking Ivar’s train of thought. You stood up and moved over to the computer, typing some notes into his chart before reading back his measurements to Aslaug so she could track them herself. The nutritionist started in on him immediately, commenting on his weight from the morning.  

Ivar watched you typing as he spoke, annoyed that his mom had insisted on coming with him this morning. You had done measurements yesterday during therapy and he knew you had come in first in hopes of spending a little bit of time with him before the two of you left for the holiday in a couple of days. Now that had been interrupted by his mother and he wouldn’t get any time alone with you aside from the drive to and from his family home. Until then you and he were both busy and once the holiday started it would be a crammed house of relatives for one long and tortuous weekend that Ivar was growing to regret more and more.  

“Well I’m all done, I’ll get out of your hair.” You announced, patting Ivar’s arm as you walked passed him to the door. “It was nice to meet you Mrs. Ragnarsson.”  

“You as well.” Ivar’s mother said, offering you less than a glance as you left the room.  

Ivar slumped a bit in his chair, leaning against the backrest more than he usually would as he listened to his mother discuss diet options that would be healthy while he was living in a dorm. He wouldn’t have minded wheeling out after you and spending the rest of the day anywhere but here. Or better yet if he could rewind to last night when he was over your apartment for dinner and he didn’t have to worry about stupid diets or how far his leg could unbend.  

His phone buzzed in his sweatshirt pocket. A message from you, that one of your patients had canceled and you could leave early if he wanted to do something for dinner. Ivar quickly texted back.  

-What would be for dinner?-

-Greek? Why are you gonna out with your other girlfriend if you don’t like the food?-

-I don’t have another girlfriend-  

-I bet you say that to all your girlfriends-

-😒-

-So I guess you haven’t mentioned the dating to your mom-

-Not yet. I will-

-Before I arrive at her house for Christmas?-

“Ivar are you paying attention?” Aslaug asked, leaning forward to nudge her son’s elbow.  

“There isn’t anything to pay attention to, we’re just sitting here waiting for the doctor to come in.” Ivar replied, “and once he does it’ll be the same thing it always is. He’ll read all the stuff the nurse already asked and noted and then tell me I’m looking good and to keep up the good work and then we’ll leave.”  

“This is very important Ivar. Your health is something you should take seriously.”

“I am.” He argued.

“Not when I’m doing all the talking and you’re texting away on your phone. That might’ve been fine when you were a kid but you’re an adult now Ivar. You need to pay attention and listen and respond.” She commented, leaning back in her chair.  

“Yes mother.” Ivar grumbled, knowing he would get nowhere with her. He sent one last text to you, promising he would talk to his mom. He wanted to but she was already getting on his last nerve with her nitpicking and he couldn’t imagine how she would take the news of him dating. Especially him dating his physical therapist. He could already picture how that conversation would go.  

“When the doctor is in I want to talk to him about you getting involved in more social activities. I worry about you being all alone.” Aslaug mentioned, picking up right where she had left off that morning when she told him that he needed more friends.  

Taglist: @breathlesssouls @lif3snotouttogetyou @demonhunter1616 @flowers-in-your-hayr @alwaysadreamingoptimist @ms-allenbrown  @arses21434 @glopsifum @aelfenpath @moose-squirrel-asstiel @vikingalexthedane @another-life-addict @born-in-19-96 @naaladareia @mysticthinking @artanakin @thats-so-rhyan  @spotted-possibilities @wallabiewisher @thinkingsofamadwoman @mixedwiththemoon @titty-teetee  @queenmissfit @marvelismylifffe @iluvmesomemarvelndc @filthyshieldmaiden @mblaqgi @glopsifum @ilvebeenabad @artanakin @noaor @hanbinwsrt 

[lostinfic]

Dissonance and Harmony | 5

Pairing: Roderick Peterson (Nativity 2) x Alison Crosby (The Canterbury Tales).

*You don’t need to have seen either film.*

Summary: Alison wants to boost her pop music career whereas Roderick needs to restore his reputation in the world of classical music. Neither of them is above using “irregular” means to get what they want, so when she joins his choir, they are in a unique position to help each other… if only they could get along.

A/N: Apparently, turtlenecks are called polo necks in the UK. Here’s a link to the bells video Roderick shows her.

Rating: M  |  Word count: 5,4k

Part 1 and 2   |   Part 3 and 4  |  Ao3

♪ ♪ ♪

Today, when Alison arrives at the theatre earlier, it’s not in the hopes of time alone with Roderick, but for a job interview with Vera, his associate.

Vera asks her a few questions, but she’s a no-nonsense type of woman who quickly sees that Alison has all the requirements both in terms of job experience and people skills.

“I can see why Roderick recommended you for the job,” Vera says as they shake hands.

“I can see why you two are business partners.”

Alison will work at the ticket booth during the day and show performers around when they arrive ahead of their concert. Some nights, she will guide people to their seats and bartend during intermission. The pay is average, but it will compensate for the hours she can’t work at the pub anymore. And there’s a tiny chance she’ll meet interesting people in the business. Still nowhere near the 7000‎£ her ex-husband is suing her for.

There’s an hour left before the beginning of choir practice, enough time to call her friend in Canterbury. Lisa is an old friend, and, more importantly, a terrible gossip. If anyone in Canterbury knows the reasons behind John’s lawsuit, it will be her.

Alison sits in the staircase, and tells her friend the little she knows.

“He’s suing you?” Lisa exclaims. “I can’t believe it. You know, even after you left him, he kept defending you. He was clearly in denial.”

“Aaww. What’s made him change his mind, then?”

“I’ll give you the straight tip: he’s dating the new solicitor in town.”

Lisa has a lot to say about this woman, but Alison focuses on only one thing: with every party emotionally involved, there will be no easy way out.

“If I could talk directly to John, I’m sure I could convince him to drop this,” Alison says.

“Use your loaf, Crosby: he thinks you manipulated him once, he’s not gonna talk to you again.”

“Fuck.”

“Besides, you’re famous now, so what’s the problem?”

“I’m famous?”

“We all saw you on the telly this summer with Robbie William.”

“That was once! I replaced a backup singer at the last minute and never saw him again. I work in a pub and sing in a choir. That’s it.”

When Alison hangs up, she heaves a long sigh. She has some answers now, but not the ones she wanted. If John thinks she’s rich and his new girlfriend convinced him to take advantage of this, she has to prove them wrong. But how if they won’t even talk to her?

Footsteps echo in the staircase, and she springs to her feet. It’s Roderick, shaking rain off his black trench coat as he walks up to his office. Butterflies erupt in her stomach. The man she insulted then impulsively hugged. The two days off they’ve had since that event haven’t decreased her embarrassment in any way.

He stops two steps lower than her. For once, they’re at eye-level.

“Are you alright?” he asks when he sees her.

She smooths her hair self-consciously. “Erm, yeah. Yeah. So, have you heard back from the investors?”

“Yes, we were lucky, Vera told me they couldn’t stay to watch after all. So they didn’t see that disastrous performance.”

“Oh, good. Whew.” She mimes wiping sweat off her forehead. “Unless they left because they’re not interested in sponsoring us after all.”

“No, they’ll be back next Friday… They said they liked the choristers they met in the lobby.”

“That’d be me and Marcus. Guess choosing me for my good looks is already paying off,” she says it good-humouredly, not an accusation, just banter. She tilts her head to the side with a mischievous smile. “My, what a fetching polo neck you’re wearing today.”

“Pardon?”

“I’m practicing.” She flutters her eyelashes exaggeratedly.

“You might not want to sound so sarcastic.”

“Noted. You really do give the best advice, Mr Peterson.”

“Thank you.” He puffs up his chest slightly. “It comes from my extensive experience as a teacher and mentor.”

“See what I did there? Not so sarcastic this time, was I?”

She smiles smugly, and Roderick rolls his eyes, but there is a certain fondness to the way he shakes his head.

“Well played, miss Crosby, well played.”

“I’ve got it covered. So, we have till Friday to improve and dazzle the investors?”

“Not the word I would’ve used, but, in essence, yes,” he says. “Are you going to the coffee shop?”

“Nah, brought my own tea today. Gotta save money.”

“Ok. I will see you in eighteen minutes.”

Alison skips down the stairs, whistling a show tune.

There’s nothing she can do about the lawsuit now, but there is something she can do about the investors.

They had two days off after the last practice session. She’d spent the better part of them reflecting on Roderick’s words and her behaviour towards the choir. He was right, she was making it all about herself and acting like a brat. She still plans on using the choir to boost her own career, but in order to do so, the choir must perform well and win, and that can only happen if they work together. So last night, carried along by a surge of generosity and fondness towards her fellow choristers, she baked a whole lot of cookies.

In the basement, where they’ll practice today, she folds out a table to display the three batches of cookies (chocolate, double chocolate and shortbread) with cute napkins.

As she waits for the others to arrive, she sings “Tiny Dancer” to herself and explores the room with improvised dance steps.

She spends so much time at the Lux Aeterna theatre now, it feels like a second home. She calls it simply “Lux”, like an old friend. “I’ll be at Lux all day,” she’ll say sometimes. Lux. Light. Even the basement is luminous somehow. Cold November sun streams through small stained glass windows and creates a colourful pattern over the exposed stone wall.

She grew up in places like these: church basements, school auditoriums, community centres. Cupboards full of old costumes and stage props, mismatched chair, yellowing paper on bulletin boards. The scent of dust and incense lingers decades after. Her love of the stage, and backstage, started young, at 4, when a speech therapist suggested she tried singing to overcome a light stutter, and suddenly she could express herself so fluently. These spaces she associates with freedom now.

“Nice choreography,” Marcus says as he rolls down the back entrance access ramp.

Cold wind rushes in with him, and Alison gathers the cowl neck of her sweater dress over her cheeks.

Marcus helps himself to four cookies and, after some small talk about their weekends, cuts to the chase and asks what happened backstage with Roderick last time.

“We had a row. He called me a brat. I called him selfish,” Alison sums up.

“And yet you’re still in the choir?”

“Yeah, it’s all fine now.” She waves dismissively. “I guess he kind of needs me.”

“How so?”

She sits down next to him, leaning forward to confide in him.

“You know how on the first day you asked why he’d chosen me. Well, he told me. It’s for my… sex appeal.”

Marcus removes his cap to run a hand through his light hair. “Whoa. Makes sense, I suppose. Some people think you’re sleeping with him.”

“What? Who? No! They thought we were off shagging backstage or something?” An image flashes through her mind: shutting Roderick up with a kiss mid-argument and being lifted against the wall, amongst the ropes and pulleys, nibbling on the skin under his turtleneck to leave a hickey— she wipes out the thought. “It’s not like that. He’s soooo not into me. That’s just ridiculous. He wants me to, I don’t know, seduce the judges or attract a male audience.”

“Will you? How do you feel about that?”

“There’s no harm in that, is there? I wear something nice, stroke their ego a bit, brighten their day. That’s what I’m best at.” Alison shrugs and smiles, but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “I just feel… daft for thinking he’d chosen me for my voice.”

“Don’t say that. You’re a good singer Alison. Bit of a diva, but nothing that can’t be fixed.” He pats her knee playfully. “It’s like I said that day. He must’ve thought you have a great voice too. He wouldn’t have chosen you for your looks alone.”

“I suppose, yeah. Has he mentioned using your disability?”

“No, but I noticed that whenever there’s a more plaintive part in a song, he always gives it to me. But, hey, I get to sing more than the other blokes. More exposure for me if a talent scout comes to the concert.”

More people come in, and Alison quickly offers them cookies. Some are wary of her sudden generosity, but no one refuses a freshly-baked cookie.

Janet and Abel in particular are grateful for the pick-me-up after what they saw in the lobby: new posters advertising their concert in December. It features a blurry photo taken, unbeknownst to them, during one of their practices and a large close-up of their conductor, with “Roderick Peterson’s choir” written in bold letters. The information spreads as more people arrive, and pictures taken with mobiles circulate.

“We didn’t even get to choose the choir’s name.”

“I reckon we won’t get a say in the setlist either.”

The poster bother Alison too, but mostly because it’s derailing her plan to become everyone’s friend and lead them to victory. Hoping to change the mood, she tells them about the potential sponsorship. “Mr Peterson and I talked, and we agreed that we must impress these investors,” she says. She might be exaggerating her part, and that won’t help with the rumours, but it’s worth it to see Clarissa seethe. Except she’s not the only seething one, the fact that Roderick himself didn’t inform them of this, adds fuel to the fire.

Annoyance rises in Alison, she sighs heavily and crosses her arms. You don’t understand, he cares about us, she wants to say, but bites her bottom lip to stay on their side.

“Why didn’t he tell us last week? We would’ve sang better,” Janet says.

“Because the quality of your performance should not be contingent upon the presence of investors,” says Roderick from the doorway. They all startle and turn around to him. “I expect you to be at your best. Every. Time. Is that clear?” No one dares speak. The threat of eviction from the choir still hangs above their heads. “Besides, you should not concern yourselves with administrative matters.”

Marcus breaks the silence by clearing his throat, everyone watches intently as he rolls up to Roderick. “With all due respect, Mr Peterson, you’re not teaching children anymore. You can consult us.”

Roderick clasps his hands behind his ram rod-straight back. Only a slight contraction around his jaw indicates his annoyance. “Thank you for your opinion, Mr Bailey. Now, let’s begin.”

They take their places in the middle of the room, Roderick at the piano, and sing through the usual warm-ups. Inhale for four beats, and hum the breath out on the same note for another four. Chests lifted, shoulders straight. Their abdomens widen and flatten simultaneously, each of them an alveoli of the same lung. Dissatisfactions are forgotten. Music prevails. “Lauda Mater Ecclesia”, “Saint Nicolas, Op. 42”, “Thou, my love, art fair”.

Alison fights her instinct to draw attention to herself. It’s not easy, just as it isn’t easy for Roderick to give compliments, but he manages to do so. In as much as “adequate” and “reasonable” said looking like he just threw up a little in his mouth can be considered compliments. She likes to think she was instrumental in that change of attitude. It no less surprises her when, at the end of the next practice, he asks, “Which song would you like to work on this week?”

Glances are exchanged, but no titles offered. Alison can’t think of any song what would not cause him to scoff.

“Well?”

Abel hesitantly raises his hand. “Maybe something by Eric Whitacre?”

“Whitacre? Seriously?” The choristers hold their breaths. “Okay, I suppose we can try that.”

The next day, Roderick hands them new scores. “Who wants to sing the solo? Everyone is welcome to try.” He has never asked before.

Alison starts raising her hand, but lowers it. He’s said “the more you try to make it about you, the less it will be”.

“Miss Crosby?” he asks.

“I— I don’t know.”

“This isn’t some test designed to torture you.” He sounds impatient, but there is something encouraging in the way he nods at her.

“Okay.”

“Take 15 to study the score. I’ll see the soloist individually.”

Alison goes into one of the small, soundproof booths that line the basement. As she studies and hums the notes, she realizes how differently she’s approaching this part. Unlike she would have three months ago, she immediately thinks of it in terms of its place in the whole of the song. She wonders how to complement the others rather than stand out.

“I wasn’t ready before,” she remarks when Roderick joins her in the room.

“Show me what you understand now.”

Her pulse quickens. This is her chance. She can’t let him down. She strikes the pose, relaxes her jaw, and sings the first lines.

Roderick interrupts her with a cluck of his tongue. “The notes are perfect. But you must put your guts into it.” He stretches his hand over her stomach and presses it into her flesh.

The contact jolts through her, and she gasps.

“Again,” he commands.

She holds his gaze and leans into his hand. This time, her voice is infused with determination. It erupts from her core until she’s completely out of breath.

“That was better.”

He swiftly leaves the room, leaving Alison to lean against the wall, bewildered.

♪

When Roderick arrives at work the next day, Alison is working in the ticket booth by the entrance of the theatre. It’s not a demanding job— answering phone calls, printing out tickets, selling to the occasional walk-in client— so he knows she has time to talk with him.

He’s just come back from their coffee shop, one black coffee in hand, and a beverage for her too. It’s some awful seasonal concoction. He thought of her when he saw it advertised in the window, and he needed something to smooth things over. His conduct yesterday, touching her like that, was inappropriate. He knew he could get so much more depth out of her. He’d wanted to rouse that boldness she has, and it worked. But she has to learn to engage it by herself.

He places the clear plastic cup in front of her, glad to put the artificial scent of peppermint and vanilla away from him. Her eyes widen at the sight of the indecent amount of whipped cream, but she expresses none of the enthusiasm he expected.

“I didn’t get the solo,” she says.

For a moment, he fails to see the connection. “Oh, miss Crosby, you’ve known me for some time now, have I ever cajoled someone when I was displeased with their performance?”

She giggles and grabs the drink. “Not quite your style, no.” She sips noisily through the straw. “Mmmm. It’s the one called Elf Brew, innit? Want a sip?”

“No. I’m a vegetarian so no elf meat smoothie for me.”

“You’re funny.”

He finds he doesn’t mind this new habit of hers of flirting with him. It’s all a laugh, of course, she doesn’t mean any of it. But it lets him know she’s not upset about what happened.

“So, I didn’t not get the solo?”

“I’m still considering my options. Luisa did very well too.”

“Right, yeah.” She shrugs and swirls the straw around her drink. “I mean, Whitacre's her favourite composer. It’s more her thing than mine. She should probably get it.”

Roderick arches an eyebrow in surprise.

“We’ll find something else that’s a better fit for me, yeah?” she adds.

“That’s more like it.”

She offers a smile that fades quickly. He pretends to take an interest in the brochures around her booth.

“But I’m trying, though,” she says. “I’m making an effort to really be a part of the choir.”

“I noticed.”

He wonders how long that will last, but it seems his words had an effect on her. Just like her words had one on him. She was right, he had been making the choir all about himself. And Marcus was right too, he isn’t teaching children anymore. It’s all getting in the way of his success.

“I decided to make changes to the posters that created such a stir,” Roderick announces.

“Really? That’s very cool of you. ”

“Today in fact. Can you do something about your face?” He gestures vaguely in front of her.

Her smile vanishes. “What’s wrong with my face?”

He could kick himself for phrasing his request like that. He explains that a photographer will arrive shortly to take new photos for the promotional material. She rushes to the bathroom with her handbag. Ten minutes later, Alison comes out with a fresh coat of pink lipstick, loose hair and, somehow, glitter on her eyelids.

In the auditorium, the photographer asks her to sing while he snaps photos around her. Then she smiles and poses with a binder of music sheets. He’s efficient, he’s worked with Roderick before and knows what he wants, but he’s taking more pictures than necessary and getting too friendly with Alison. She, of course, is enjoying every minute of it. Roderick should be annoyed with this kind of vain attitude, but she remains professional and focused.

“Beautiful. You’re a natural, luv. Lean over. Okay, cross your arms. Yes. Look at me.”

“Okay, I think that’s enough,” Roderick intervenes.

“But we’re only getting started,” the photographer retorts. “I think we need her in a skirt. No? Okay, you’re the boss. Alison, here’s my card if you’re interested in modelling—”

“She already works for me,” Roderick insists, shoving the photographer’s bag in his arms.

After he’s gone, Alison asks, “D’you want me to tell the others there’s gonna be a photoshoot when they come in? I can text them right now.”

“No, we’re not taking pictures of the others, your face will suffice.”

“It’ll be only me? Outside on the marquee of the theatre? On a busy street in central London? Whoa.” She smiles brightly.

“Well, there will be my face too, and then you underneath me— I mean, under the title. Anyway.”

“I see. I suppose it’s like I’m representing the choir. The others— I just… Okay. No. That’s for the best.”

♪

By Friday, the new posters aren’t up on the marquee yet. Good. Alison doesn’t want them to distract her colleagues on this important day when the investors are coming to hear them sing.

She joins everyone in the auditorium. They all scrubbed up well.

“Nice shirt, Marcus,” she says. “Love your scarf, Janet. Luisa, new haircut? Beautiful. Abel you shaved!” There’s a thickness in her throat that isn’t from stress. She’s overcompensating. She should have insisted her friends be in the promotional photos too. She argues with herself that she let Luisa have the solo. And if her pretty face helps sell more tickets for the December concert, than she’s helping everyone. In a way. Being pretty is her thing, and if that’s all she is, then she bloody well deserves her face on a poster. But the guilt doesn’t go away.

She redirects her thoughts to the present when Roderick walks on stage. He greets the investors who are standing at the back of the room. They haven’t introduced themselves to the choir so as not to raise their hopes. They prefer to watch from a distance to better assess their performance. Love of music isn’t their only motivation, they need this association to reflect well on their business, and their logo on the program to pay off.

Roderick’s gaze sweeps across the choristers, and Alison smiles at him. No vein throbs on his forehead, and the movements of his hands and arms are more fluid; they have his back, and he knows it now.

They run through warm-ups and the song they know best. Nervousness strains their voices a little bit, but they cover up each other’s misses. Luisa sings the solo beautifully, and Clarissa is perfect, of course. Alison simply can’t be mad at either of them.

After the first hour, Vera walks on stage to introduce “your new sponsors.” Alison is the first to shake their hands with a warm smile.

“You have great potential, and our bank always believed in encouraging young talent,” they say in a speech that sounds like a marketing pitch.

True to her nature, after the rehearsal, Alison invites everyone to the Blue Bear pub’s Open Mic night to celebrate. Marcus accepts right away, and convinces others to do the same. Even Roderick agrees after they beg him in chorus. “Only for one drink.”

In the theatre’s lobby, a handyman is putting the new posters for the concert. The ones that feature Alison prominently. She doesn’t usually shy away from attention, but when her friends notice it, she wants the floor to swallow her. She sputters some excuses. Thankfully, Marcus smooths things over. “I’m too happy to be pissed right now, let’s not spoil our mood.” No other complaint is voiced, but Alison knows they’re all still thinking about it.

At the Blue Bear, Javier is surprised to see her. “Your shift only starts in an hour.”

“I know, I brought some friends to hang out and sing. You don’t mind, do you?”

“No, of course, I don’t mind customers.”

“I’ll just grab a few things.” She passes behind the bar and picks up a bottle of whiskey along with glasses.

“Paying customers, yeah?” Javier says.

Elife is there too, with her bandmates. “You didn’t have time to go out for my birthday, but you have time for your new friends?” she accuses Alison.

“I’m sorry. We got the sponsorship! It’s like a team-building activity, it’s work.” She hugs her friend. “I’ll introduce you to Marcus, you can thank me later.”

They push tables together to sit the dozen choristers who came. Roderick sits at the head of the table, he raises his glass to them.

“As Bach once said: ‘I was obliged to be industrious. Whoever is equally industrious will succeed equally well.’”

“That’s it?” Marcus whispers. “Alright. Cheers!”

Janet is the first to go on stage to sing “Back to Black”. Alison’s focus shifts to Roderick. Does he even know Amy Winehouse? She’s a genius just as much as Beethoven. Even sitting at the same table as them, he’s distant. This pub, with its hunting ephemera on the walls and hanging lamps made out of beer bottles, is a far cry from his modern theatre. She’s sure he thinks it’s not good enough for him. Nothing is good enough for him.

She grows annoyed, but she doesn’t know where it’s coming from. Maybe because he called her self-absorbed yet encouraged it by having her pose alone for the photographer. He should have asked the others too or at least explained his decision to them. She’s not the only guilty one. It’s infuriating that he can he be so caring one minute— bringing her tea, finding a solution to her problems, saying she’s sexy, hugging her, smelling good, and that little smile he has sometimes— yet so distant and annoying the next.

Why didn’t he give her a solo? She improved. She worked hard. Why does he want only her face and not her voice? How is she supposed to sing with her guts when all the songs he chooses are hymns to a deity she’s not sure she believes in? Singing with the others is uplifting, but the lyrics are meaningless to her.

“I’ll show him,” she mutters to herself as she makes her way to the stage. Impulsively, she chooses a song by Carly Simon.

Alison keeps the microphone on its stand but puts her two hands over it, she undulates her hips to the first guitar notes.

“You walked into the party. Like you were walking on a yacht,” she sings with a voice deeper than usual.

Her friends cheer when they recognize the song and sing along to the chorus.

“You're so vain. You probably think this song is about you. You're so vain. I'll bet you think this song is about you. Don't you? Don't you?”

She presses her hand to her stomach as she belts out the last lines. It’s cathartic. Her frustration dissolves. She bows to the applause. Feeling better, she saunters off stage.

She crosses Roderick’s path as he’s walking to the exit, putting on his coat.

“You’re going already? It’s not ‘cause of the song, is it?”

“I thought it wasn’t about me,” he says with a playful tone. “I liked it.”

She wishes his approval didn’t make her feel so warm inside.

“Thank you for coming, it means a lot. To everyone.”

“Thank you, Alison. Good night.”

As he walks away, she considers insisting he stays, but Javier calls her to begin her shift.

Alison dons her apron and goes around the tables whiles her friends keep singing on stage. They’re absolutely killing it. Marcus’s rendition of “I Believe I Can Fly” has the crowd cackling, and a few minutes later, he and Elife are snogging like their lives depend on it. Janet and Luisa sing a duet, and are soon joined by a tipsy Abel. And the night wouldn’t be complete without “Bohemian Rhapsody” which she has time to join between two orders.

They stay until closing time, at 11. Alison takes the booze away from them, and goes around wiping tables while they discuss the choir.

“We should sing more songs like we did tonight.”

“We were so good.”

“More people would come to the show.”

“I’ve had enough of bloody hymns.”

“Do you know what we should do? Mash-ups!” Luisa says.

This suggestion is followed by a chorus of enthusiastic agreement.

“Mr Peterson will never let, though,” Janet complains.

“I don’t know,” Alison says. “I mean, he’s been making an effort to talk to us more like we’re actual humans. He’s trying, no?”

“That’s right, he has been making an effort,” Luisa agrees, “since you talked to him.”

They all turn to Alison with intent stares and mischievous smiles.

“Why are you all looking at me like that?”

“Because you’re going to ask him to change the setlist.”

“Oh, no, no.”

“Oh, yes, yes,” Janet replies.

“We’ll forgive you for the poster,” Luisa adds.

“Fuck.”

♪

Roderick starts every day by swimming laps in the pool on the first floor of his building. The cool water stimulates his body and mind. He loves to feel the stretch in every muscle from forearm to calf as he crawls and kicks his legs. A musician must stay in shape, but he never liked sports.

When he was 13, his mother (who worried about his social skills and the effect of them of practicing piano alone for so many hours) asked him to join either a sport team or the school choir. He chose music, of course. In no time, he’d surpassed the choir director and was doing the arrangements himself both for the choir and the school band. And thus was born his love of choral music because, for the first time, he was part of a group, of something bigger than himself and free of his father’s shadow. And yet, it’s that feeling of belonging he wanted to run away from today.

He reaches the end of the pool and hangs on to the edge, panting. He hasn’t completed his usual thirty laps yet and he’s already out of breath. The whiskey and late night are affecting his performance. What was he thinking? Fraternizing and drinking with them. The frontier between conductor and choristers must never be crossed. If he gets too close to them, he will lose his objectivity and authority. It will affect his decisions and won’t be good for the choir. Hell, he’d almost given Alison the solo right after she sang for him even if he hadn’t heard the others yet. He had to keep his distance and a cool head.

Of course, keeping his distance would be easier if he hadn’t given her a job at his theatre.

“Hey, Mr Peterson. Here’s your mail,” Alison says, entering his office.

“Thank you.”

No fraternizing. Not crossing the line. He keeps his eyes on the computer and sees a file he saved yesterday, a video that reminded him of her. Bloody hell.

“Wait. There’s something I want to show you, come here.”

She joins him behind the desk, and he plays. It’s woman with bells sewn onto her clothes, each makes a different note, and she plays a medley of Christmas songs by tapping them all over her body.

He watches Alison rather than the video, praying she will think it’s funny. She laughs and he reclines in his chair.

“Oh, this is brilliant.”

“I was thinking we could get you one of those seeing as how you like to draw attention.”

“Oi! Cheeky.” She bumps him with her hip. “I don’t think the others would like that, though.”

Her sharp tone tells him there’s more to her statement, but she changes subject before he can ask.

“Mr Peterson, can I talk to you about something?” She wrings her hands. “Last night, we had an idea.”

“We?”

“Yeah, the whole gang, well, those who were at the pub. We were saying we’d love to sing more popular songs. Maybe do mash-ups? You know, when you take two or three songs and blend them together.”

“Like a quodlibet?”

“Maybe.”

“Darling Alison, the only reason mash-ups work is because there are too many bland, interchangeable songs out there. If a song isn’t interesting enough to perform in its entirety, we should be ignoring it. And if it uses excellent songs, it’s even worse, it completely ruins the integrity of the piece.”

“So you do think pop music has integrity.”

“You missed my point.”

“We could mix them with classical music. Like Steve Hackman did. Coldplay with Beethoven, Drake with Tchaikovski…”

“That little punk.”

“Tchaikovski?”

“Hackman. It’s derivative.”

She crosses her arms and looks at him seriously. He mirrors her pose.

“Alright. If you agree, I’ll do the thing you want me to, you know, be sexy for the judges or whatever.”

“Was refusing ever an option?”

“Well, you can’t force me to be sexy.”

“So far, I haven’t even had to ask you to do it. You charmed the investors of your own accord.”

“I can be ugly.”

“I doubt it,” he replies without thinking.

She smiles and her determination wavers, but not for long. “Flattery won’t work.”

“I doubt that even more.”

“Roderick, please,” she whines.

“We’re not throwing away the songs we’ve already worked hard on. We’re doing a traditional choral concert. That’s it.” He strikes the air with his hand to underline his words.

She sits on the edge of his desk, in front of him. Oh, she’s a stubborn one, but her perseverance doesn’t displease him.

“Can you honestly say the ‘traditional’ way has worked out for you?” she asks.

“Yes! I’m one of the tops in my field.”

“Lately, I mean.”She taps her knee against his. “C’mon, it’d be fun!”

“Alison, this is my livelihood. My life. Fun is not enough.”

Her shoulders slope. He’s getting through to her.

“Okay. I understand. I really do, but—”

“Miss Crosby.”

“No, listen to me.” She leans forward and braces herself on the arms of his chair. “We can do it better than it’s ever been done before. Because of you. Because you’re one of the tops. I trust your judgement and your talent to make the most amazing… quodlibets.”

“If this is another one of your flirting jokes…”

“It’s not.”

It’s hard to think with her so close. Her floral perfume. Her front teeth digging into her lower lip. Her hand so close to his arm, he can feel her warmth. He looks up to the ceiling and sighs.

“Can you come to my home tomorrow?” he asks her.

“Your home?”

“I can hardly carry my whole album collection here. Bring your music, we’ll look through it.”

She squeals and claps her hands, and for a moment he thinks she’s going to hug him again. “Okay, I’ll be there.”

So much for keeping his distance.

[only-sunday]

Im going to try and start positive. Honestly I've tried to start a blog of some sort so many different times and its never really worked out but I'm all for some positive affirmations and my therapist is always saying that I should stop always focusing on the things I do wrong so I'm going to think of all my other blog starting posts as practices for this really amazing and cool new one that I'm starting right now. So let me start again and give an intro real quick.. 

Hello! welcome to my BRAND NEW blog! Okay, great, done. 

This is one of the few non-work/university related hobbies I'm testing out in an attempt to give my mental health a little boost and keep my brain functioning semi normally. One of the ways I keep my brain from totally exploding is writing its entire contents onto paper or into a computer journal. I find this helps calm the noise inside my busy, chemically imbalanced brain and acts as a relief system. It also creates a  good ‘user manual’ to take into my therapy sessions instead of paying hundreds of dollars to sit in uncomfortable silence and, on a more positive note I guess, it helps me keep memories. Remembering certain days, certain feelings or life stages, even tracking well-being & general mental health improvement is something I find easy when I'm writing it all down. Now obviously I'm not going to be sharing all of those journal entires on a super public internet forum for the entire world to see because I don't really think that leaking my naked vulnerability is going to give me the same success in return as it did for Kim K and Ray J so I'm going to stick the the rules of “some things are better left unsaid.. or just not leaked on porn sights specifically for riches and world domination”. No judgment Kimmy.  Instead this is where I'll post my more PG stream of consciousness along with some pictures of things I like, videos of things I've done and thoughts I wish to share. I want to document my other de-depression-ing hobbies that I'm trying to include into my life as well as finally fulfilling my dreams of being a real life blogger and posting my outfits, my outings and my reviews of things. All while simultaneously improving my astonishingly low self-confidence (because to-be-fucking-honest I'm getting a little sick of not doing all the things I reeeeeeally wanna do thanks to that bullshit little dude named “self-esteem”. fuck that guy he SUCKS).  My girlfriend and I recently started a youtube channel, thanks to her beautiful friend Hannah, which started out as a joke but has actually turned into a fun little hobby for us. I like the process of filming for memory-keeping purposes but the actual editing and fine tuning of the video itself is what's most fun for me. I have no idea what I'm doing the whole time, so the challenge combined with creative energy required is a really good source of good timey feels for me- thus the basis of this blog. With working almost full-time and studying 2 degrees at university, its hard to have full days of film worthy content, which means my new and beloved vlogging hobby is now taking weeks to have a video worth posting. So I thought why not get back into blogging where I can post texts and some pictures that require a little less time, a little less editing and can help my general well-being in the process. Great idea right?! yeah duh of course!  Now here's the thing. I, just like my split in-half bi-polar brain, like to split my year into two different seasons. The first half- the shit half- is January through July (more mid July-ish I guess, depending on the whole mercury/retrograde thing) is when I'm experiencing what I call my “growing pains”. Its the part of the year that I feel moves the quickest and is usually filled with lost of sadness and tears and not a whole lot to look forward to. I hate this part of the year. But then come Leo Season. Now I'm not super into/knowledgeable of astrology etc but I do absolutely, without a doubt feel a change when Leo Season hits. And it hits hard. My self confidence is suddenly through the roof, I feel so much happier and more excited and I start to get really excited for all the good events coming up for the rest of the year. Now I'm not trying to totally discount my mental health here. I still have my MASSIVE downs and up, I still need to go to therapy and do all my other things I do to stay alive but there is a general change in who I am. My super confident, all-pink-everything, 80s loving alter ego comes out and she tends to sick around for the rest of the year while really kicking my years 2nd season off with a bang. Then following that comes, Halloween (a real favourite of mine), my anniversaries, thanksgiving (big celebration in my house hold), end of year uni celebrations, the almightily Christmas which tbh I love so much I can't even get into it in this post and then finally New Years. And as much as I really prefer winter over summer, there really is something about summer holidays that a love so much. Everyone is always getting together with other people to have fun and celebrate something, there's always lots of laughing, lots of alcohol, and pretty much no-one wants to do nothing every cause we’re all just on one big summer vacation despite all still going to our full time jobs everyday. This 2nd season of the year truly is the best. So all pf these feel good things to look forward to are something that's most definitely going to contribute to my postings.  Along with all of this I'm going to post some food recipes, some currently reading & book reviews, my YouTube videos, my outfits, my attempts to create a more eco-sustainable household, my little garden that I'm going to start soon, some photos that make me happy and my thoughts that I need to get off my chest. 

So I’m going to try and stay positive because honestly I've tried to start a blog of some sort so many different times and its never really worked out but I really feel that maybe this time could be a little bit different. I guess we’ll just have to see what happens.