#and the tenderness in david's voice | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

irndad · 1 year

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in every other life- s.r.

a/n: my soul is in this mf fic. there's a lil sexual tension lol! this is a behemoth of pining. so much fucking pining. this guy needs you like air wtf!! ALSO the poem is from a book, the lover's dictionary by david levithan. summary: the love of spencer's life is also his best friend, and she goes on a few dates. he does not handle it well, internally. ft. metaphysics by our dear genius boy. wc: 3.3k (holy shit)

While he recognizes that no direct injustice has actually been done to him, he can’t help but feel that it’s so unfair.

Because Spencer had never actually wanted much of anyone, actually. He was too much of a child through his entire education, and he’d found anyone that he’d even consider had almost instantly had dismissed him. He’d grown used to a life where companionship wasn’t a desire that crossed his mind.

But he wanted her.

His lovely friend, his coworker, who was the kind of lovely that it feels unfair you’d ever have to take your eyes off of. She’s the best person he’s ever met, the sort of wonderful you read about but never convince yourself you’ll ever see. He knows the shape of her, has her form memorized from watching, waiting for her to step into the office every day.

It was only a matter of time until he wasn’t the only one with his eye on her.

She’s actually absurdly easy to want. There’s nights where they watch something, often what he picked, Doctor Who or some other science fiction which would be great if he could focus on anything but her. Her warm disposition ruminating his too-small apartment with a kind of light that follows his every movement. He’d adore her even if she wasn’t, but it’s impossible to ignore how beautiful she is- the kind of pretty that you hardly expect to see in real life.

“Hey you,” her so-sweet voice is what breaks him out of his daydreaming, and he looks up at her lovely face smiling down at him. Fondness seeps through her tone, and it’s everything he can do not to preen that her first thought at seeing him is one of pleasure.

“Hey back,” he says, greeting her with a warm grin of his own. “How was your weekend?”

It’s a calculated question.

She had canceled their weekly movie night. He’d tried not to look too disappointed, like the idea of her next to him on his couch, of her nimble fingers raking through his unkempt hair while something nice, but far less wonderful than his company played in the background wasn’t all that was keeping him going. These days, and he knows it’s likely delusion, that she sometimes seems to gaze back at him with a similar sort of desperation, hooded eyes and tenderness.

It’s a liminal space, those nights. How can people be two things at once? You cannot be both in love and not. In the low-light of his place, under his blanket- it’s like Schrodinger’s experiment. She can’t love him like a friend and more at the same time- it resists the laws of physics. She is his best friend, a fact he knows as sure as gravity and the elements, and believing anymore than that- it’s asserting an impossibility.

When they’re alone together, though. It seems like the impossible exists.

But she’d canceled it, something she hadn’t done for the months they’d been engaging in their little tradition. So there had to be a reason. She sits next to him, her desk next to his.

She looks a little disheveled, only in an adorable way- but a little like she’s been busy, like her flow is disrupted.

“It was good! I finally went out with that guy Penelope’s been begging me to let her set me up with.”

It’s all that he can do not to freeze up.

Penelope has been trying to get her to go out with her friend Ben, which Spencer thinks is a stupid name, by the way, and secretly he’d been so, so pleased when she had brushed off the invite. It’s a dangerous thing, hope. He tries not to have too much of it, tries to savor the thought of her, of more for moments of particular vulnerability. It’s treacherous, to want her the way he does. He knows he can’t let himself feel it all the way.

And logistically- romance is not a reason for a valid reason for him to be panicking the way he is, but all he can think about is the physics. Two opposite things cannot be true at the same time.

“You know, studies suggest that even now, the majority of couples are meeting in person or through friends over any other medium.”

It hurts to say. She’s part of a couple, one half a whole that he doesn’t complete.

“Seriously? I’d have thought it’d changed by now. I guess it’s safer to date someone you know.”

She’d date someone she knew? Is that what she prefers?

“How did it go?” He hears Emily ask, and this conversation is already the bane of his existence.

“Guys, it really wasn’t a big deal! We got dinner, it was just a little thing.”

Spencer isn’t experienced in dating, but he does know that dinner is a serious date. Coffee is a smaller thing, but dinner-

Dinner means she got pretty for him. Probably picked out a dress for the evening, spent time on a carefully manicured look. Spent hours of her precious, rare, time on him.

It’s not fair how much he fucking hates this guy.

“Dinner is not nothing!” Penelope squeals, and he would love to share in her excitement, except it kind of feels like a piece of his heart is being shredded.

“Dinner means coming up to my place, have coffee, oh look who doesn’t have her hair done-“

Please kill me, he thinks. Please.

“Oh, that definitely did not happen.”

Thank god.

Except he can’t miss her flush, how her expression shifts- and he has the sickening feeling he’d be hearing that guy’s name again.

When they all settle around the table, her doe eyes focused on gruesome images that were the exact antithesis of her spirit, he couldn’t help but feel that even if it hurt, there was finality.

The cat was out of the box. Two things cannot be true at once, and so only one is- she does not love him, at least not the way he does.

Ben, is not in fact, going away.

If he had more willpower or self-preservation, Spencer would keep his distance from her, but the truth of it is that as much as he wants to be the person she turns to, her smile is most of why he can stand his job anymore.

It’s a Tuesday, and everyone is grumbling about being pulled in early in the morning, but he’s just happy to have a reason to leave the house.

“Spence!” He hears her excited voice carry, the pretty sound picking his ears up at once. “I got you coffee. It’s hazelnut, and it’s like, 90% sugar. You’re gonna love it.”

She beams at him, and he takes it in his hands. Their hands brush, and he tries so hard not to notice how soft her hands are. Her name is on the cup, and an unconsenting fantasy of her name meaning that he’s hers creeps into his mind before he can bat it away.

But her cup says Ben.

“Thanks,” he says her name, tries to sound measured and friendly. “Coffee date?”

She preens, and god, if this guy doesn’t get how lucky he is it might be thing thing that actually sends him over the edge after all these years.

“Just a quick thing, we were just in the same place and he bought me a coffee, I’d already gotten yours.”

If there’s two roles he can fill and he doesn’t get to pick, if he’s stuck with friends, he’s gonna be great at it, and he’s gonna be grateful. Because knowing her is a grace in itself, the kind of thing you should could yourself so lucky to have.

“He sounds like a great guy,” he hears himself say, “I’m glad you’re doing this.”

It’s the right thing to say. He’s sure of it. The thing he’s not sure of is why the smile she offers him doesn’t reach her eyes.

The next time he notices the cracks in their relationship, it’s when they’re out. She’d suggested this bookstore-cafe kind of thing, and he’d jumped at the thought, all of his favorite things in one afternoon. He’d felt foolish spending so much time picking out his outfit out, wearing the blazer she’d once complimented-he’d actually stuttered so hard in thanks that Morgan laughed for a full minute when she left the room- but she always looked beautiful, and he knows he sometimes pales in comparison.

“Oh, I love this one!” She thumbs over the spine of a thin book of poetry. She’s wearing a forest green sweater that hugs her frame, and a bracelet hangs on her delicate wrist. He loves looking at her, though he tries to conceal it. His goal of being a supportive friend includes trying not to make it that known how gone for her he is.

“I don’t read too much poetry,” he admits, “But I’m sure you have excellent taste.”

Her keen eyes skim through the pages intently, clearly seeking out a specific passage before stopping, gaze alight with recognition.

Her tone is molasses-sweet when she begins reading, and his heart skips a beat.

“When I say be my lover,” her voice hitches, reverent of the quote and he is reverent of her, “ I don’t mean ‘let’s have an affair. I don’t mean Sleep with me. I don’t mean Be my secret. I want us to go back to that root. I want you to be the one who loves me. I want to be the one who loves you.”

It feels impossible to look away from her, doe eyes practically sparkling in the low light of the shop, and there it is. His heart’s in his throat. Of all the things you could have told Spencer he’d experience, hearing her lovely voice wrap around the words be my lover in hushed tone, in sacred sweetness, would never ever be one he’d guess.

He’s not sure how he feels about the multiverse theory, but right now, he can feel all the versions of himself pressing right up against him. Can see into lives he doesn’t get to live, lifetimes where his love isn’t a buried, worn-out tattered thing to keep his ever-frigid chest warm. Versions of himself that in this very moment can smile back at her, warm and open and kind, and kiss her perfect smile.

Because he would be her lover. He would come home to her, spend the rest of his life building a home that she could fit into. It’d be easy, actually. She’s easy to imagine- nights of laughing in a shared kitchen, evenings where her company is a fine wine, sipped at leisure with the comfort of knowing it’s never going to slip from your grasp.

“I like that,” he says, voice too vulnerable for his own good, eyes unable to tear from the eye contact. “I really like that.”

In the root of it, he already is her lover. He is the one who loves her. She’s just not his.

It comes to a head on a Friday. It’s a few weeks from he book shop, and the air feels heavier between them now. The last handful of Fridays he’s sat with the ghost of what used to be their plans, empty time lingering where in its’ place used to be her company.

He doesn’t know if she’s been with Ben. He tries not to think about it.

The sound of her voice lingers in his mind, sweet and bitter in his mind like old lemon candy, the kind his mother would save for special occasions. He’d spend any amount of money he had to hear her lovely voice say those words to him out of the context of a poem.

At work, they seem almost normal. Like one of them wasn’t desperately in love with the other; like a genius and his lovely, incredibly empathetic, kind best friend. In the field, their actions flow together seamlessly. She is always the first to listen and to understand (and god, isn’t it intoxicating to have someone meet you in understanding) and there is nothing to suspect is off.

But there’s still a cloud lingering. The poem- the soft melody of her voice curling around the words, the request of it all, the way she had sounded so wanting- and then, there’s Ben.

She doesn’t mention Ben to him, of course, but Penelope does. Penelope, all bows and bright colors and cheeriness keeps bringing the absolute worst news to Spencer with a smile on her face.

He’s taking her out for drinks! Oh, he’s reading her favorite book, do you know what it is?

This anger isn’t an emotion that he’s familiar with. A roar of possessiveness, the bite of it not tempered at all by rationality. Has he touched her?

It seems almost a tradition at this point when she shakes him out of his jealous storm of thought.

“Spence?” she muses, “You alright?” They’re alone at his desk, everyone having fled for their own evening and weekend plans. This was one of the Fridays that she had agreed to spend with him, and he wonders if he’ll be able to handle the scent of her shampoo so close after such a lapse of the sensation. Will all of his judgement go where he can’t follow?

“Yeah,” he says, tucking his papers into his bag, “I’m excited for tonight.”

His place is actually a short walk from the office. He’d been embarrassed to show her the place at first. It’s all function over fashion, and a bit cramped, but she’d looked at as though it was made of something more, something good. She didn’t even tease him. It had actually been her idea, to start these movie nights.

Ironic, really.

The walk was pleasant, the weather a little frigid but still nice, and she looks beautiful under the setting sun. It’s incredible to him, how her lashes catch the light and make her irises look like polished stained glass. His favorite color. Through the looking glass of another life, he sees a version of himself that gathers her up in his arms. In this daydream, she grants him one of her smiles that seems to carry its’ own light, and leans into his body like it’s the only thing that keeps her steady. It’s so clear. On the other side of the veil, he kisses her reddening nose, and keeps her warm himself.

In the here and now, Her coat is long, and hangs low by her ankles. It’s an elegant thing, like the woman who wears it, and Spencer would be grateful for a lifetime of just looking.They stop in front of his door, some invisible force stopping him from entering.

She sheds the coat inside his home. It smells like the candle she got him for his birthday, a reminder of her grace. He’s saved a bottle of wine for them, a sweet thing for the sweetest thing he’s known.

“I’m sorry,” she speaks the warmth of the beverage on her tongue, and it should feel abrupt but it doesn’t.

“What for?” He can’t imagine what she would have to apologize for.

“I know things have been…off between us,” she says carefully, considering the phrasing of each word. He watches her with a reverence, his hazel eye brimming with affection with nowhere to go. “You’ve been so great through it.”

Her legs are thrown across his own, and she’s dangerously close to sitting in his lap, but not exactly. He’s missed having her this close, the last time she’d been in his orbit was before she’d had reason to be gone. She smells floral. He fights With limited filtering through his already treacherous mind he thinks, He can’t take this from me. I still get her like this.

“I’m not entirely sure what it is.”

She slowly shuts her eyes, go for a moment to somewhere he can’t follow. Her cheeks are rosy from the cold.

“This whole Ben thing.”

“Oh.”

Logically, it always had to come back to this. Someone else had the good fortune to know her like this, to be the person she reads poetry to in deep meaning to.

He’s been stealing moments from someone who’s not his to take them from.

“I don’t even know how I wanted you to react.” she murmurs, staring at the rim of her glass.

“I just want you to be happy” His voice is something low, grit in the sound of it. His hand rests on her thigh. There’s warmth blanketing the room and he wants to kiss her. He wants to kiss her all the time.

She laughs, but it’s not her normal laugh. It’s tinny and a little bitter. He pushes his luck, and reaches out to brush the side of her face, moving the hair but still holding her face. Her breath smells like strawberry wine and temptation.

It feels different tonight. Low light and tension that could be sliced with wire. Every part of her is in reach, and something in the air makes all of this talk of relativity, of physics, moot.

Like maybe he’s not in the only world they don’t end up together.

Her face is warm and soft under his touch and he loves the sight of her. He’s never touched her like this. Every point of contact feels electric, addicting.

“What is it? The Ben thing?” He doesn’t know what he’s expecting to hear. What he wants, is for her to tell him that it doesn’t matter anymore, that she picks him-

“I only went out with him the once.”

“What?”

“I told Penelope I was still going because it made her happy and she said I couldn’t keep going to your apartment and reading you poetry and call that romance.”

Romance?

Wasn’t it romance, though?

Her eyes widen in something akin to horror.

“Shit, Spence- I’m sorry, that is so fucked of me to say-“

“You,” he tries to say calmly, “aren’t going out with Ben.”

She blinks.

“No?”

He has spent so much time living in other lives, existing in the minds of versions of himself he wasn’t lucky enough to be. Drinking coffee imagine a life colored in her presence, falling asleep yearning for the presence of something lighter than what he has to carry.

He can’t exist in two places. That was the entire basis of the experiment.

He moves his other hand to hold hers, and somehow she’s shifted to being on top of him, and he looks up at her with unwavering desire.

Spencer isn’t good at wanting people, but it comes naturally with her. Less of an action and more an urge, a course of motion to which he is at the mercy of. This is what leads him to close the gap between them, and kiss her. It’s

Her delicate fingers run through his hair, and she can’t be close enough, please, and he could spend the rest of his life kissing her, actually. He probably will spend the rest of his life thinking about the soft sigh he pulls out of her.

“I want it to be me,” he manages to say through shallow breath, still so close that his lips brush hers every other word, “I want to be the one you pick. I want it to be me.” His hazel eyes seem to shift in the moment, swirling with emotion.

She brushes a lock of his overgrown hair out of his face. He normally shaves when he sees her, but he’d been so busy that he’d forgotten, and felt embarrassed of it now. That is, until she runs her index finger along the edge of his jawline.

It’s then she leans down and kisses him again, pliant and good, his hands around her waist. He breathes a prayer into her mouth, one that hopes that she never ever comes to her senses about him.

“Spence,” she says, her voice golden silk, a kindness. “There was never anyone else to pick.”

#spencer reid #spencer Reid fluff #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x fem!reader #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #criminal minds fanfic

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joelscruff · 1 year

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one thing i'm missing (joel miller/reader) PART ONE

hi there ! i'm new to the tlou fandom but not new to fic, and watching the show over the past few months inspired me to return to fic writing. the idea for this has been milling around in my head for a good chunk of time now and i finally felt ready to put pen to paper and get this thing started. i've already posted this to ao3 if you prefer that medium, but i'll also be posting it here now. let me know what you think!

summary: you and joel accidentally end up falling asleep together, and what follows is the beginning of a quiet and tender relationship neither of you saw coming. rating: 18+ explicit (this part is not explicit but this fic will be) warnings: (for future parts) smut, age difference (reader is in her mid 20s and joel in his mid 50s), praise kink - will add more as fic progresses word count: about 2.6k

You don't, under absolutely any circumstances, talk about it.

It started about a month ago, after all the shit that happened with that monster, David. After Ellie had decided she wanted to start sleeping alone.

It hadn't really been a conscious decision on her part, but you'd noticed that first night how she'd distanced herself from you and Joel when it was time to sleep. She'd curled up against the far wall of the basement with barely a word, shutting herself off entirely while you'd tended to Joel's injury. Prior to this – ever since Joel was stabbed – Ellie had started sleeping at his side, head on his chest, listening to his heart and hoping against all hope that it kept beating. You'd slept a few feet away, hoping desperately for the same thing.

After David, she avoided physical contact entirely. You and Joel wordlessly understood, though you could tell it alarmed and concerned him. Though he'd been in and out of consciousness for the past few weeks you know he'd become accustomed to having her at his side, curled into him with that familiar daughterly affection he'd been missing for twenty years. Seeing her ultimately decide that she no longer wanted that closeness, probably feared it, distressed him greatly.

“Fuckin' bastard,” Joel had murmured to himself that first night as you cleaned his wound – you'd learned what to do from watching Ellie, “I'll fucking kill him.”

“Shhh,” you'd hushed him, keeping your voice low in case Ellie was still awake, “He's dead and gone, she took care of it.”

“Shouldn't have had to,” he'd hissed, “Fuckin' bastard.”

He'd slept poorly. You knew because every so often you'd hear him mutter something else to himself about David between short fits of sleep. You didn't sleep much either, partly because in the wake of Ellie's sudden distance it was now your job to monitor Joel's wound, but also because you felt the same way Joel did. The thought of that monster... what he'd done to Ellie and what he'd tried to do... you'd never felt so much disdain and hatred for one person in your life. Every time you closed your eyes all you could see was the look on her blood-spattered face when you'd both found her, the way she'd barely been able to speak... you could only imagine how much worse the images behind Ellie's eyelids were.

So she slept alone now, which meant Joel slept alone.

For a little while, that is.

After a few days of short spurts of travel and staying in more abandoned houses (Joel wasn't well enough to walk much, though he tried to deny it, much to the frustration of you and Ellie) you'd set up camp on the outskirts of a small community. Ellie hadn't talked much and Joel hadn't been fully in his right mind since you left that first house, so the decision-making had fallen to you for the time being. Truthfully, you were done with the mouldy mattresses and hard concrete of those suburban basements, the smell of rotting food and being bothered by mice and cockroaches while you tried – and failed – to fall asleep. Neither Joel nor Ellie argued when you suggested setting up a campsite in the woods for a change of scenery.

The snow had melted quite a bit and there hadn't been anything fresh in almost a week, the temperature rising rapidly the further you walked. The idea of sleeping underneath the stars again with fresh air in your lungs and the sound of the wind blowing through the trees was enough to keep you going that day. That night, you'd watched as Joel made a fire with the materials you'd collected, Ellie already bundled up inside her sleeping bag a few meters away.

“Hey, you sure you're not gonna be cold over there?” you'd called to her gently, already knowing the answer.

“I'm good,” she'd replied, sounding earnest enough, “If I get cold I'll move.”

You'd sighed quietly, turning back toward the fire. Joel was blowing lightly on some kindling, eyebrows furrowed in thought. You used this rare moment of him being distracted to analyze his face; the dark circles beneath his eyes had been growing more prominent over the past few days, and he'd gotten into the unconscious habit of blinking very slowly, like he was always just a few seconds from sleep. You'd never seen him look this exhausted.

“You need to sleep,” you'd murmured, and his eyes had snapped up to meet yours instantly, “I'm serious, Joel, you look...”

“I'm fine.”

“You don't look fine,” you shifted your eyesight to the fire, lifting your hands to warm your palms, “You look like you haven't slept in days, which you literally haven't, by the way.”

“I've slept,” he'd grunted, turning his attention back to the fire as well.

“Yeah, for maybe twenty minutes at a time.”

“Well, maybe if I wasn't bein' woken up every twenty minutes by you checking if I'm still breathin',” his voice was hard and cold, but you were used to it.

“Don't be dramatic,” you'd snapped back, “I check you maybe twice a night now, if even that. Sorry for wanting to make sure you're okay.” The last few words had come out shakier than you'd intended.

He'd inhaled deeply, and you could see him looking at you again in your peripheral vision, “You're right, I'm sorry. I'm being an asshole. As usual.”

“You're not an asshole,” you'd muttered, “you're tired. And so am I.”

You'd sat together in silence for a few moments before Joel had reached behind him for his pack, digging out the blanket he'd started using in lieu of his old sleeping bag. He'd decided to leave that behind; it was what you and Ellie had used to get him back to that first house, the one Callus had dragged across the icy terrain with a bloodied and near-death Joel as its only occupant. He'd pissed himself in it, which he'd attributed as the main reason for leaving it. But you knew the truth: he'd spent too long wrapped up inside of it during that period of time to ever get a good night's sleep from it again. It needed to be put out of its misery.

Both you and Ellie had offered to give him your own but he refused every time, repeatedly stating that the blanket Ellie had found was warm enough, if not even warmer than the sleeping bag had been. You honestly didn't know if he was telling the truth, but he gave you no choice but to believe him.

“You take first watch, then.” he said quietly, “We're out in the open again, gonna have to stay alert.”

“Got it,” you were a bit embarrassed by your brief moment of vulnerability, but you'd quickly busied yourself with picking up the rifle to hold it in your lap.

You'd watched as he spread out the blanket on the ground, carefully kneeling down and wincing at the pull of his stitches. He laid down on the edge of it, then reached over and pulled the other side over his body like a makeshift sleeping bag. Sighing contentedly, he'd closed his eyes.

Despite how much older than you he was, the word adorable couldn't help but cross your mind.

“Goodnight,” he mumbled quietly to you, and you'd forced yourself to look down at the rifle so he wouldn't catch you staring.

“Night, Joel.”

You'd quickly learned that Joel's new blanket was in fact not warmer than his sleeping bag. After a few hours of keeping watch, you decided to check on both Ellie and Joel to make sure they were doing alright. Ellie was fast asleep and didn't look to be shivering or experiencing a bad night's sleep; she actually looked more peaceful than you'd seen her for a long time. You'd smiled fondly, fighting back the urge to push her hair out of her eyes; she'd made things very clear and you weren't going to overstep.

You wandered over to Joel and the contrast between he and Ellie was staggering; there was no peace here. He was wide awake, shivering ferociously and hunched in on himself with his hands cupped around his mouth as he blew on them for warmth.

“Jesus Christ, Joel,” you'd immediately dropped the rifle and leaned down to him, “why the fuck didn't you tell me you were freezing?”

It actually wasn't a very cold night, but the combination of Joel's thin blanket, his injury, and the fact that he was overwhelmingly exhausted were just making everything ten times worse. He also hadn't slept outside for weeks. You immediately began to regret the decision to camp tonight.

“Hold on,” you'd said quickly, scrambling back up to grab your own sleeping bag. You unzipped it so it was wide, then draped it over Joel's shivering form, “I'm gonna give you some body heat, okay? Don't make it weird.” You'd only said the last part because you knew he would protest.

You'd crawled underneath both layers of material and without any hesitation wrapped your arms around Joel, ignoring his shaky mutterings of “I'm okay” and “you don't need to”. He'd surrendered very quickly, relaxing into your embrace as you ran your hands up and down his arms at the fastest pace you could muster. You alternated between his arms and hands, taking them in yours and rubbing your palms against them like you were trying to start a fire, huffing hot breath against his skin. Beneath the blanket, you entwined your legs with his, pulling his socked feet against your ankles and trapping them there to warm them up.

It only took a few moments for the heavy shakes to stop and for Joel's breath to even out again. Despite this, you stayed where you were and kept doing what you could to keep his temperature stable. As he warmed up, he began to feel more like himself; he was no longer a cold statue but the warm and solid man you'd come to recognize, and you were hyper-aware of the fact that despite spending so much time with each other you'd never actually been this close to him. His arms, strong and steady beneath his coat, the same arms that carried around that heavy pack all day, the arms that cradled the rifle, they now laid loose and tender under your touch. His hands, calloused and rough around the edges but soft at the palms, the same hands that set the fire still burning a few feet away, the hands that once held his daughter and had learned to hold Ellie's – and now yours, feeling like in some way they belonged there.

You'd known you felt something for Joel, but you'd never realized how strong and real that something was until it was literally in your embrace.

Without speaking you'd laid your head on his chest, closing your eyes and doing your damnedest to fight back the sudden tears that were threatening to well up. Holy shit, was all you could think, a warmth you'd never felt in your entire life radiating in your chest and somehow extending toward him. Holy fucking shit. It was like time had stopped and all you could feel was him.

You'd looked up at his face, needing to see if he felt it too, felt you the way you felt him, but your eyes widened slightly when you saw that his were closed, mouth slightly agape. There it was, that peace you'd seen on Ellie's face, now transferred to Joel's. For a brief second you felt panic, but it was immediately interrupted by the light snore that emitted from his open mouth. He'd fallen asleep.

And a few moments later, so had you.

That was the first night you'd slept solid without waking up even once. Not just since Joel had been stabbed, but since the pandemic had started to begin with. You can't recall ever having such a peaceful, dreamless, absolutely soul-refreshing sleep. And neither had Joel; when you woke the next morning he was still fast asleep in your embrace, that peaceful expression still sculpted on his face like he was a living Michelangelo. In the night you'd only gotten closer to him, legs still entwined and head still on his chest. The only difference was that your arms had obviously stopped their rapid movements to keep him warm, and they'd ended up snaked around his torso, the palm of your left hand laying flat against the hot skin of his waist, just above where his stitches were.

Maybe you should have pulled away when you realized, gotten up and pretended it didn't happen. The thought did cross your mind, but then Joel had shuffled a bit in his sleep and you'd become aware of the fact that his arms were around you, hand pressed flush against your bare back underneath your jacket and shirt, holding you to him. And that was enough to make you stay.

About fifteen minutes later, he'd woken up.

He didn't flinch or yank himself away when he realized the position you were in. He'd blinked slowly at you, and you'd peered up at him just as quietly. His lips had parted and then closed again, as if he was going to say something but then thought better of it. Instead, he just kept staring at you, and you started to feel his hand on your back slowly and tenderly stroke the skin there. In return, you gently brushed your thumb against the bare skin of his waist. It was a moment that felt like it went on forever, both of you touching those small intimate parts of each other without saying so much as one word.

You felt butterflies in your belly when the hint of a smile twitched at his mouth, and you smiled back, sleepy and soft. You never wanted to leave this small piece of existence. You just wanted him to keep looking at you like that, his gaze holding yours with an expression you could only describe as contentedness. You'd never seen him look so relaxed; the dark circles had faded and even the lines on his face had receded into his skin. He looked younger, healthier, like all the bad things that had happened to him had vanished in one good sleep.

“Uggghhhh,” Ellie moaned a few meters away, and both your heads snapped in her direction. She was sitting up in her sleeping bag, back facing you. You could see her arms stretching above her head as she began her typical morning wake-up routine: stretch, groan, flop, repeat.

Without saying anything you'd both untangled yourselves simultaneously before she could see the sleeping arrangement you'd found yourselves in. The loss of warmth and familiarity was palpable as you quickly stood up and grabbed the rifle, walking over to the now completely burnt out fire. Joel silently folded up his blanket and your sleeping bag behind you, then muttered something about needing to look for more shit to burn.

That's how it started.

And you don't, under absolutely any circumstances, talk about it.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller #joel miller fic #tlou fic #*#fic: one thing i'm missing

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slasherscream · 3 days

Note

the absolute INSANITY of the pushing your s/o away thing with the crazy ass boy gang… it’s like triggering a dog’s prey drive but for serial killers w abandonment issues

CRAZY ASS BOYS GANG + PUSHING THEIR HAND AWAY/REJECTING AFFECTION

❥ who gets pissed the fuck off ❥

Billy Loomis - Is irritated off rip. Billy plays it cool but he needs physical affection from you. He’s casual about it so he flies under the radar, but this is a stage five clinger. He’s always doing something small. Touching your fingers. A hand on your back. Neck. Sitting behind you instead of putting you directly in his lap. It’s little stuff. Hovering. Smack his hand away one of these times and his jaw clenches right away. “What the hell is your problem?” Please snuggle up to him and don’t start world war 3. It’s not worth the joke.

Kevin Khatchadourian - Quick question, why do this to yourself? Kevin does not need, nor does he particularly enjoy, physical contact. Period. He is gracious enough to give you physical contact because he knows you’re built different (pathetic). For you to then turn around and spit in the face of him being kind enough to meet your needs? …. Quite crazy of you. The look he gives you is pure confusion because he’s honest to God baffled. What do you want to accomplish here? Go ahead and start begging now, because he’s not touching you for a long while.

Sparrow!Ben Hargreeves - Swings wildly between damn near dodging any physical affection you attempt to give him to hanging off you like a squid on a ship. No in-between. For you to have the audacity to reject him when he’s feeling clingy? How dare you. He doesn’t have to beg anyone for attention! Did you forget who you’re dating? Doesn’t even care if you did it with obvious playfulness. He’s sensitive. He’s tender. He’s a bitch. He goes to get up and leave entirely and you have to grab him and beg him to cuddle so this doesn’t become a week long cold war. Happy ego stroking!

Stu Macher - What you’re not about to do is ruin his mood. Baby, he’s about to ruin yours. How about that? If you push his hands off you once he enjoys a little playful bitchiness. Playing hard to get. He likes to chase, it’s cool. Twice? Okay…. We’re irritating him. Three times? He’s gonna grab your hand, stop smiling, and stare at you. When he places his hand back where it belongs, on your thigh, don’t act up again. He could make your whole week go to shit. Don’t start wars you won’t win. He’s the king of playing stupid games and winning stupid prizes.

Nathan Prescott - Has to bluster and get visibly pissed off because he is rejection sensitive to a degree that is astounding, frankly. Let you see him upset after he tried to be affectionate and you said no? Hah! Not fucking likely. Being physically affectionate in the first place doesn’t come easy to him. Quality time is more his speed. Even worse if it wasn’t a sexual advance he was making. He tried to wrap an arm around you and you shrug him off? You’ll be lucky to get a hello out of him for the next week. Good luck soldier.

David Mccall - Outwardly, he pretends to be despondent and sheepish when you bat his hand away. He’s using sadness as a shield. If he’s sad then you might feel bad and give in. He’ll use any tool in his arsenal to get his way. One of his greatest skills is speaking in a soft voice, just shy of how you’d speak to a toddler, and telling you: “I didn’t mean to upset you, sweetheart. I’m sorry.” This is all to hide the fact that you rejecting him in any way, shape, or form makes him so angry he can barely think. You might be able to catch the rage hidden behind the veil. If you’re quick enough. David puts on a convincing show, but his gentle smile is twitching at the edges.

❥ who gets sad and mopey ❥

Jordan Li - Oh you pushed them away? No, that’s cool, it’s totally fine. You can want space. Everyone’s entitled to their own space bubble. Of course. Are you having a bad day? Are you mad at them? Did they do something wrong? Did they piss you off? These are the types of questions Jordan is going to “casually” ask for the next ten minutes while they sit really close to you. They’re not touching you! They always sit with their legs spread so wide. Their arm isn’t around you, it’s on the back of the couch. You’re nitpicking here, babe. They’re staring at you with their big brown eyes. No, they didn’t get any closer while you weren’t looking.

Josh Washington - Why would you do this to him? Don’t push his hand off you unless you mean it or you’re being obviously playful about it. If you pretend to be mad at him while you do it, no matter how unconvincing of an actor you are, he will believe you. Sensitive king. He also won’t go to touch you again until you initiate the contact. Physical touch is reassuring and comforting to him but even he (category five clinger) gets touch aversion at times. As observant as he is, he knows some people are uncomfortable asserting their boundaries, so they’ll try to soften the blow of saying no by being “playful”. He cannot take the risk! You could mean it but don’t want to hurt his feelings. Josh interprets many playful no’s as real ones. Better safe than sorry.

❥ secret third worse thing ❥

Sebastian Valmont - Doesn’t take it for anything more than what it is. If you’re being playful he recognizes it. If you’re seriously not wanting to be touched at any given moment he understands that as well. However, in the case of being playful, you’ve started a war you can’t win. Because, as much as Sebastian enjoys chasing you… Sebastian also likes to be chased. Ten minutes from now you’ll go to give Sebastian’s cheek a kiss and he’s going to dodge you. Hard. To such an extent it’s bordering on insult. He’ll be wearing a cat that got the canary grin all the while.

Jason Dean/JD - Doesn’t take you seriously even if you are dead serious. I’m sorry, you’ve discovered his worst character trait by far. Most boundaries are a joke to him. He always wants to touch you. He loves you! He craves you like a drug. You should feel the same for him, in equal measure and desperation. So why wouldn’t you want him touching you? Holding you close. He’s so gentle with you (usually). His arms should feel like home. No matter how long a day you’ve had. No matter how overwhelmed you might be with sound, sight, touch. In JD’s eyes you’re one soul in two bodies. He always wants you near. He knows you want the same. You’re just a little dramatic sometimes.

#crazy ass boys gang #this was SOOOOO fucking fun to write nonny #i remembered how scary some of these fucking attack dogs are midway through writing #billy loomis x reader #stu macher x reader #jordan li x reader #josh washington x reader #kevin khatchadourian x reader #black!reader #jd x reader #sebastian valmont x reader #nathan prescott x reader #david mccall x reader #ben hargreeves x reader #umbrella academy imagine #jordan li imagine #gender neutral reader

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apollyonsdarksecrets · 4 months

Text

The Fall

Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five, Part Six, Part Seven

Summery: She’s reserved, emotionally cut off, and spiraling down a dark path; one she can’t get out of on her own. Aaron Hotchner may be her only help, but at what cost? When he shows up to her hotel room, contact in hand, she realizes it may be more than what she bargained for.

Warning: 18+ Only MDNI SMUT. Language, BDSM, Dom Aaron, emotionally detached reader, typical CM violence, childhood trauma, abusive father figure, age gap (reader 25 Aaron 40) doesn’t line up with a specific time line, use of Y/n because story is set in 3rd person for the first half then switches POV, last name for reader is Smith,

Specific Chapter Warnings: David being a tease(?), blood, dog attack, robbery, Typical CM violence. Hospitals, (let me know if there is something I missed)

A/N: so these next two chapters are long because I had to take a SUPER long chapter and split it in two. So be thankful I could have just kept it all in one part 😂.

Present Day

The first few things you notice, as your conscious slowly pieces itself together, is that your face is unbearably cold. The AC unit under the window is humming loudly as it pushes the air around, chilling the room like you’ve left the window open. The next thing you gather is that every other part of your body is warm, almost burning. But with the soft pillow under your head, the weight at your back, and how your body has shaped into the mattress, you could care less. This is the most comfortable you have been in years, every ounce of tension smothered away by the heaviness above you.

Then that heaviness moves.

Your eyes snap open with the flood of last nights events, overly aware of who exactly lays behind you. Aaron’s head is pressed against the back of your neck, little puffs of warm air skimming your shoulder, his heavy arm wrapped around your waist and a thick thigh pressed in between your own. His breath is even and deep, seemingly still asleep, and you silently thank whoever is out there for the moment to collect yourself and figure out what you should do next.

What you should do is get up.

What you should do is get the hell out of this room with your tail between your legs.

What you should do is call everything off, the embarrassment you’ve endured enough to last you two life times.

You close your eyes, sucking in a deep breath, because as much as you should move you can’t force your body to do so. The smell of Aaron’s cologne is filling your nose with each breath, then just underneath is a hint of musk that is undeniably all him. It’s intoxicating, it makes you want to bury your face into the pillow and never leave.

“You’re doing a terrible job of pretending to be asleep.” Your entire body jumps at the sound of his deep voice, making Aaron chuckle behind you, a chaff kiss pressing to your shoulder. “I’m sorry.” He mutters warmly.

“It’s-it’s fine… I was just-.” You push the covers down, starting to get up when Aaron’s arm tightens around your middle, holding you in place as his lips find the smooth skin of your throat, right where your shoulder meets.

“Aaron…”

He nips at your skin and you suck in a breath, his hot tongue soothing over the tender spot before he repeats the process further up your neck. Aaron sucks at the soft skin just above your necklace, just where your pulse is and you whimper at the sensation, your eyes fluttering closed. “We-We need to get up… it’s probably time to-.” Your words are swallowed by a thick moan, your head falling back as he finally finds that sensitive spot just bellow your ear. Aaron takes advantage of this new discovery, sucking and nibbling gently as he rolls you onto your back. His large frame settles between your thighs, trapping you in.

Your hands find his arms, squeezing the tense muscles as his weight presses you down into the mattress, your mouth opens in a silent moan, your eyes fluttering against the pleasure clouding over your mind. “Aaron… we can’t do this.” Your words are half hearted, contradicting your actions as your palms travel up to his shoulders, pulling him in as his plush lips pepper the underside of your jaw.

“Why can’t we?” He mumbles, resting his weight on his forearm, his other hand finding your hip. His fingers dig into your skin, his palm pressing into your bone angling your hips to his liking. Aaron lifts his head at your lack of response to find your lips parted in a quiet pant, your eyes closed as you drink in the feeling of him. “Hmm?”

“We could… so much trouble if we keep doing this…”

Your breath catches in your throat as his hand slips under your shirt, smoothing up your side and spreading wide along your ribs. Aarons thumb just barely brushes along the bottom of your breast, all of your senses zeroed in on the small area as the digit rubs back and forth.

“Then stop me.” His voice is laced with a growl, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that can only be described as feral. Your front teeth clicking together, noses bumping, moans filling each other’s mouths as your hands find home in his hair, tugging at the short locks desperately. Clauses smooth over the hard peak of your nipple, sharp hips grinding down into your own, and his erection presses firmly into your mound.

Aaron groans loudly, the noise reverberating through his ribs and into your own. Your thighs squeeze his hips with each slow canter, dragging himself along your soaked core. Every sensation is building into a frenzy under your skin to the point you feel like you will burst into a million little pieces.

The shrill ring of a phone sends everything to an abrupt halt. Aaron is off of you and picking up his phone before you can even take your next breath. “Hotchner.” You blink drizzly up at him, the sudden change in everything leaving you with whip lash. Aaron stays seated between your thighs, one hand kneading and squeezing the soft fat, stroking your leg as he speaks. His voice nor his face give anything away of what just transpired, leaving you astounded as you’re left trying to catch your breath. The way he flips script so easily almost a little unsettling.

You can faintly make out David’s voice on the other end on the line, a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding blowing through your nose. You draw your leg up with the intention of leaving the bed but Aaron squeezes your thigh and he shoots you a glare, silently telling you to stay where you are.

Reluctantly you drop your leg back against his pajama clad thigh, tuning out most of his conversation with the older man as you fix your shirt, pulling it back down over your stomach where it had ridden up. “Right. We’ll be there in an hour.” He ends the call, tossing his cell onto the bed leaving his hands free to explore the outside of your thighs with a gentle touch.

“We need to get up.” Your voice is soft, low and thick, your eyes darting down to where his hands have come to a stop.

“Who did this?” His eyes, unusually dark, catch you by surprise when you look up at him in confusion. You’re about to ask him what he means when you feel his thumb rubbing back and forth around the jagged raised scars on your thigh.

Aaron watches how you mentally shut down, your features once soft and dopey now are stony, your gaze turning sharp as your eyes narrow. “No one.” You force yourself to sit up and move away, your back pressing into the cold, wooden headboard.

“You don’t fit the profile of someone who would have hurt themselves.”

You roll your eyes, your nose scrunching with disgruntled anger. “How would you know? Besides, Derek says we aren’t supposed to profile each other. So don’t.”

Aaron moves closer, the bed dipping in making you slip towards him as his hands land on your knees, balancing himself with a soft squeeze. “Those are Derek’s rules, not mine. You don’t seem like someone who would have hurt themselves because you continuously push through your problems, you tuck them away so that they don’t affect what you have set your mind to.” His hand slips down your thigh again, going for the scars that plague you endlessly. “So, I will ask you again. Who did this?”

Your pulse picks up, your breath sticking in your throat like a candy you forgot to chew, as his fingers brush your numb skin once again. “I don’t want to talk about it.” You push his hands away, and Aaron sits back on his heels as you scoot to the edge of the bed with a wince. The memories of last night aren’t the only reminder of what happened, a deep seated soreness is there too.

Aaron sighs, a bit of annoyance latching onto his words as he speaks. “How is any of what we are doing supposed to help if you won’t open up to me? It’s not a sin to show vulnerability, or emotion.” His fingers brush your wrist but you jerk away, spinning on your heel to level him with a rough glare.

“Yes it is. Showing those things, when you are a person like me who came from nothing, gets you no where in life. My emotions are not the reason I pulled my life around in high school, they are not the reason I received valedictorian in college. No amount of tears earned me my work ethic. That was done by me without any of those things. I was fine keeping my mouth shut, my emotions locked away, and going about my life as I should. It was you who decided otherwise!”

Suddenly your voice isn’t your own, it’s hauntingly familiar, piercing the back of your mind like talons from a bird who has caught its prey. You don’t see the room around you anymore, just the never ending darkness that suffocates relentlessly.

The brackets around Aaron’s mouth soften, his eyes turning pitiful and you think that’s the worst part of it all. “Baby…”

“I want to go home, Aaron.” It takes great effort to not let your voice crack as pressure bears down on your chest, making it hard to breath. You’re sure if you keep standing here it will all be for nothing.

“Okay.”

*~*~*~*~*~*

You’re the first to board the jet, the cabin is only a few degrees warmer that the air outside, making you pull the sleeves of your purple turtle neck down to cover your hands. Despite hardly saying anything else to each other Aaron still made it a point to pick out the clothes he wanted you to wear, then helping you carry your bags to the car. The ride had been silent and uncomfortable, the boundaries that you thought were in place are now blurred, and a new type of nervousness has burrowed into your bones.

You pick the couch at the far end of the plane, pulling out one of the blankets JJ keeps in storage for weather like this. You ease into your seat, a long sigh escaping as you drop your head back against the wall, mentally and physically exhausted.

“Well, good morning.” David’s chipper voice fills the cabin and you force yourself to lift your head and meet him with a smile. Aaron is on his heels with a new folder in hand. His work never finished.

“Morning, how was seeing your friend?”

“It was good.” David nods his head, stopping in front of you, smiling crookedly. “We had just enough time to catch up on life until the next time I am in town.”

“That’s great.” You say genuinely, your head tilting slightly. Your smile falters as his brown eyes narrow, your back stiffening as David reaches out, gripping your chin between warm fingers. He tilts your head up and hums softly, his grin returning at full force as his eyes gleam with knowing.

“Well, now isn’t that a pretty sight. Make sure not to get that snagged on anything, gattina.”

Unbridled embarrassment fills your stomach, spreading to the top of your head and down to the bottom of your feet. Your jaw slackens in David’s grip and he chuckles, squeezing your chin before stepping back. Aaron looks up his eyes darting between the two of you. “It took her a minute to agree to wear it. I think she likes it though.”

Your head snaps in his direction, your cheeks reddening with rage but David speaks first. “Oh I’m sure it did. The feisty ones always put up a little fight.”

The fact that they both are speaking as if you aren’t sitting feet from them has you seeing red. You jam the necklace under the collar of your shirt, pulling the blanket up to your chest with a huff. Your narrow eyes bore into Aaron’s who holds your challenging stare, an eyebrow cocking in question. You curse yourself repeatedly as you drop his stare, refusing to acknowledge him or David again for the rest of the trip.

When David sends Aaron a smirk he finds the raven haired man staring at you with a mixture of amusement and possessiveness.

*~*~*~*~*~*

Two and a half uncomfortable hours later you are finally dredging your way back into the bullpen. Your extra bags are packed into your small silver car, refusing the help of the two men, and as you surround yourself with the familiar sounds of rustling papers, ringing phones, and jumbled chatter; you finally feel some tension ease away.

Dropping into your chair at your desk you stretch out your arms, noticing the stack of folders on the corner by your computer. No matter how much you do, there is always more paper work.

“Hey, sweet cheeks.” Derek Morgan drops into his own seat across from you, dressed in a too tight white t-shirt and an impish grin on his face. He rests his elbows on the desk, his muscles flexing as he watches you drag your eyes from him to the folder in front of you. There was no denying he was a very handsome man.

“Good morning.” You singsong back, flipping through the manilla folder, eyebrows creasing as you scan the text.

“How was Jenny after we left?”

You take a second to respond, carefully choosing your words. “She was really good. She was open and talkative, I don’t believe there will be any psychological impact that will affect her life. I’m sure as she grows older and understands more and more of what happened she will seek someone to talk with but for now… she is doing very well.” You prop your head on your fist, your eyes rolling up to meet his. Morgan nods thoughtfully, rolling a pen between his fingers as he leans back in his chair, rocking slightly.

“That’s good. I couldn’t stop thinking about her after we had left.” Right there. That was what made Morgan such a good profiler to you. Not only was he the power of the team, no door standing a chance around him, but he also held a big heart which overflowed with compassion.

You nod, dropping your attention back to your folder when another voice joins in. “That’s new.” Garcia suddenly appears behind you, her bright red fingers plucking at the arm of your sweater. Everything in you stills for a moment, before you force yourself to react, licking your lips and turning to the bubbling blond with a smile.

“Oh uh yeah, it is.”

“And so are those pants! They look good on you.” Garcia’s smile has always been the most infectious thing, despite what comes across her many monitors daily, she always a is a ray of sunshine. Her quick wit and humor making it impossible to dislike her in the slightest. The cheerleader you all need.

You nod again, feeling your cheeks heat under both of their intense gazes. “I kinda did a little shopping after the case was finally wrapped up.”

Morgan makes a noise and Garcia shoots him a leveling glare behind her pink glasses. The color being the main theme of today’s outfit, from her pink 50’s styled dress to her pink heels and makeup.

“What? I’m surprised is all. But good for you, Y/n. You needed to treat yourself.” He holds up his hands in surrender, waving them slightly.

"Y-Yeah you aren't wrong." You amend, glancing up to the landing behind him as movement catches your eyes. Arron is watching the three of you with a slight smile.

*~*~*~*~*~*

The day felt as though it had dragged on and on, more and more profiles of children and young adults to sort through. Deeming who is top priority for therapy based on the severity of their cases. Finally you are able to close out your computer, leaning back in your chair with a groan. The office is shrouded in darkness, a few emergency lights humming lightly and the amber glow of the offices above you the only lighting.

You can’t help finding Aaron’s office, the door is open and so are his blinds, but there’s no way of seeing him from where you sit. You bite the inside of your cheek, wondering if you should just leave or if you should go to him. You had never discussed how things were supposed to be in the office asides from being discreet. Nothing can be more discreet than just leaving as usual.

Your cellphone suddenly vibrates on your desk, and you aren’t left to wonder any longer. A text from Aaron pops up on the small screen and you find yourself hesitating to answer, your eyes darting around the office to ensure your privacy.

Aaron Hotchner: “How was your day?”

You roll your lips together before typing back a quick reply, something fluttering in your chest.

Y/n Smith: “Same as always when we are in the office. Just paperwork.”

It’s not a forward answer and you find yourself chewing at your cheek again.

Aaron Hotchner: “Did you eat lunch?”

Fuck. Y/n Smith: “I didn’t … but I was planning on having a big dinner when I get home from picking up Bruce.”

You swallow thickly, your eyes flickering to his windows where you can practically see the pinched set to his dark eyebrows, his eyes narrowing as he reads your message.

Aaron Hotchner: “Make sure that you do. Remember some of our rules extend to the work space and that includes eating three means a day if you are able to. Now, are you going straight home?”

Your face flames with heat, again glancing around to make sure no one can see your mild embarrassment from being reprimanded.

Y/n Smith: “No, I’m going to go pick up Bruce first.”

Aaron Hotchner: “Call me when you get home.”

You take a breath, one you didn’t know you were holding and begin to gather your things.

*~*~*~*~*~*

Nearly two hours later you are finally pulling into the driveway of your small one story home, your car shaking with the force of Bruce’s excitement. You laugh as he whines, his tail wreaking havoc on the seat back behind him. You grab your keys and phone, leaving everything else for later. “You ready? Who’s ready to be home?” The high pitched toddler talk you reserve souly for your over grown puppy makes Bruce bark, the car shaking more as he shifts on his paws. “Let’s go then!”

You step out and he instantly follows, circling you before going ahead and running back, like he’s asking you to go faster. You both make your way to the front door, bantering one-sidedly as you unlock the door as you debate dinner.

“Chicken noodle?” He whines as you push the door open, letting him go in first. “No? Well then how about a pasta bake?” You toss your things onto the door side table, closing and bolting the door behind you. Bruce yips, his tongue lulling out the corner of his wide mouth, almost grinning as you lead him into the living room. “Ooo what about fish sti-.”

You stop abruptly, halting in the middle of your living room, as your focus lands on a man lumbering at the entrance to your kitchen. He’s shrouded in the darkness of the small area, his clothes different shades of grey and his face is obscured from a ski mask. In one hand he holds a large trash bag, in the other what appears to be your silverware.

Bruce’s growl snaps you from the impromptu staring contest you’re having with the man, the hairs on his body standing on end as his posture shifts. His stance widens, shoulders dropping , ready to protect. Though fear sizzles through your blood like acid you react before the intruder does, your hand snapping for the gun at your hip only to fumble over air. The realization that you have left it in your car knocking the air from your lungs. The man steps forward and Bruce’s growl intensifies, placing himself in between the two of you.

“FBI. You need to vacate before you do something you will regret.” You force the words out, your voice loud and stern, even as your tongue stick to the roof of your dry mouth. You hover your hand over your bare hip, hopping it will psych the man out as his eyes flicker between you and the dog.

He takes a step forward and you fall back one, Bruce retreating with you, the knowledge that you know he will attack on command giving you courage you don’t have. The giant holds up his full hands, his eyes darting behind you as he speaks. “We aren’t here to hurt you lady.”

“We?”

You don’t have the luxury to ponder what he means when something crashes over the back of your head. The sound of glass shattering fills the room, your knees hitting the hard wood floor soon follow. Black swims over your vision as you fall forward, barely catching yourself on your hands, the sting of glass cutting into your palms making your cry out.

A hair raising snarl rips through the room, Bruce launching himself at the man who just ambushed you from behind. Your ears start to ring and you gasp, trying to clear your vision as you sway on your hands a knees, you bloody palms slipping on the floor. A gut wrenching noise fills the air, teeth shredding through fabric and meat and a scream that makes you flinch.

Rough hands grab at your arms, hauling you up and the world around you swims and tilts, your head falling limply against your chest. There’s a thud and a whine that makes bile rise into your throat as you’re dragged towards your linen closet, mumbling negatives as you try to fight back.

“Shut the fuck up.” The man holding you shakes you by your shoulders, rattling you and your consciousness slips farther away. “Get the fucking door Mac.”

Mac. Mac. Mac.

Your sluggish brain chants the word as you’re hauled over to the dark closet, your body dragging across the floor. “Don’t… please…” With a loud sneer you’re stuffed in, unsure if the darkness surrounding you is from the door slamming shut or the last of your consciousness slipping away.

*~*~*~*~*~*

Aaron stares down at his phone where it sits on his desk, silently willing the screen to light up as he taps an uneven tempo with his pen against his thigh. The final folder he needs to go through is laying untouched in the small metal basket, his attention fixated on the out of date cell Garcia is constantly hounding him over.

It’s nearing three hours since you left the office, and an anxious feeling is bubbling in his chest, squeezing his lungs and heart. You should have called by now, the text he sent an hour ago never answered. Were you ignoring him? Had something happened on your way home? A million different outcomes are ricocheting off of each other inside his skull.

“Hotch?” David’s voice makes him jump, spinning around in his chair to face David leaning in his doorway. “Everything alright?”

Aaron rubs his thumb across his fingers, a comforting tic he developed many years ago when he still lived with his father. Sighing Aaron drops his gave back to his phone. “I think something is wrong.”

David’s eyebrows inch up and he takes a few steps into the blandly decorated office. The only personal touches are the awards lining the dark walls and a few pictures of Jack. “What do you mean?”

Aaron takes a deep breath, “Y/n… She hasn’t called and I’ve already messaged her once…” Aaron bites his lip, shaking his head. “My gut tells me there is something wrong and I can’t get rid of the feeling.”

David only takes a moment to contemplate, nodding his head as he grabs the door. “Then we need to go.”

*~*~*~*~*~*

"HELP!" Your fists pound into the door, desperation and fear cracking your already strained voice.

How long has it been? Minutes? Hours? The darkness surrounding you gives no answers away, and no matter how hard you push and pound on the door, there is no give.

It's all of those lonely dark years all over again, suffocating, hindering, debilitating. You scream for Bruce but there is no answer on the other side, no noises to let you know he is okay.

You’re cramped in the small space, the shelves above you preventing you from standing, the space becoming more and more claustrophobic. Tears choke your labored breathing, curling into yourself, deflating into sobs.

"Please... Please help me..."

*~*~*~*~*~*

It didn't take long for the two men to find your small white home, the faded numbers on your teal mail box still visible in the dying light of the setting sun. Aaron is overly aware of how the large black SUV stands out among the lower class suburb, but there doesn't seem to be a soul around to notice as he and David step out into the cold air. The house is dark on the inside, the front porch illuminated by the single strand of soft glowing Christmas lights that wrap the banister.

Aaron had called you once before leaving the building then again when they pulled onto your street, that creeping feeling of dreed now worming its way through the deepest parts of his guts. David glances to Aaron before leading the way to your door. It's painted the same sun-kissed color as your mailbox, but when David knocks it swings inward under his heavy fist.

Both men automatically draw their weapons, David glancing to Aaron who gives a curt nod before he pushes the door open all the way. In front of them is a long hallway, three doors on the wall to their left, an archway at the very end and another to the right. David gestures to the doors and Aaron veres to the right, noticing the small table with your cellphone on top. He turns the corner sharply, gun level and narrowed eyes scanning the dim room, the only light filtering in through sheer drapes.

The living room had been turned over, furniture pushed around or completely toppled over, once neatly placed books now litter the floor. There’s a pile of glass at his feet that looks like it had once been a vase, everything in his immediate vicinity is speckled with blood. A broken lamp lays on its side, the bulb flickering hauntingly, casting shadows about the room. Aaron can hear David on the other side of the wall, his steps just as measured and cautious in case someone is still lurking.

He makes it across the room, the trail of blood growing in volume, right at the entrance to your kitchen. It’s staining the walls and checkered linoleum floors, and Aaron can smell the copper tone in the air. His heart beats unsteadily, fear gripping him as he scans the trashed room spotting the blood soaked door. Making his way over he peaks out the window, finding a small, dark back yard.

“Clear!” He tells to David, who parrots the word back. Aaron’s heart is thumping wildly, his thoughts crescendoing, but as he is about to move away from the door a soft whine reaches his ears. He pears out the glass once more, this time a dog comes into view. He’s large, black and brown and Aaron can see blood covering the dog’s muzzle as he paces back and forth on the small patio, staring at Aaron expectantly.

Swallowing thickly Aaron looks around, grabbing a dish towel off of the counter and using it to turn the sticky door nob. The dog bursts through the door before Aaron can fully open it, bolting into the living room, David comes around the corner in time to see Aaron following the furry beast, his phone in hand ready to call the police.

The dog leads Aaron to a door tucked in the corner of the room, where he is pawing and whining at the white wood. There’s a china cabinet pushed tight against the door, bloody handprints smeared across the side and Aaron’s stomach drops with the realization. “Dave!”

The two men rush to the piece of furniture, heaving it away, Aaron’s hands slipping against the side of it. Once there is enough room Aaron throws open the door, his gaze meeting stacks of blankets and towels until his eyes drop to the ground.

You’re curled into the small space at the bottom, your arms thrown over your head, your shoulders shaking with each heaving sob. Instantly Aaron is taken back to just a few days ago when they found Jenny tucked into the crawl space. Bruce makes a gruff noise behind Aaron and the man drops to his knees in the doorway, relief and anger pooling in his soul as he takes in the state of you.

He reaches out, his fingers barely brushing your shoulder making your entire body jerk with a startled scream. Your head snaps up, eyes wild and unfocused as you press yourself further into the wall. Aaron holds up his hands, his voice taking on a soothing whisper. “It’s me, baby. It’s just me and David.” Tears relentlessly spill down your ruby cheeks, your chest rising and falling so fast and uneven that Aaron is afraid you are are going to hyperventilate.

Before he can say anything else though, you are scrambling towards him, throwing yourself against his chest with so much force you knock him backwards. His arms wrap around you and you let out the loudest sob he had ever heard, your fingers digging into his shirt, clinging to him like a lifeline and you were stuck in an endless dark sea. Bruce tries to nudge his head between your bodies, his tail wagging slowly, as David takes a few steps back dialing 911.

Aaron gently strokes your hair, his eyes close as relief washes over him. “You’re safe, everything will be okay. We’ve got you.”

A strangled noise leaves your throat as you press your face in closer, your fingers shaking around the fistfuls of his shirt. “I-I… I got jumped.”

“Shh, it’s okay, you don’t have to talk right now.” Aaron whispers, Bruce moving around to the other side, laying his head on Aaron’s thigh. Aaron drops a hand to the dog’s head, scratching him softly. “Good boy, you’re a good dog.”

*~*~*~*~*~*

The neighbors began to a merge when the police lights filled the night sky, whispering amongst themselves and speculating what could have happened to their most quiet neighbor. Inside, the house is consumed with near chaotic energy. Bright flashes of lights from cameras, men yelling back and forth to each other across the house. People getting samples of the blood left, picking up pieces of your home, your life, to place into evidence baggies.

And in the center of it all sits you. You’re curled up on the couch, Aaron’s arm wrapped around your shoulders as Bruce lays on your feet, a middle aged EMT checking your blood pressure in front of you. You hadn’t stopped shaking since you left the closet, the adrenaline pumping through your system making it impossible to sit still.

The woman in front of you, her black hair slicked back into a small pony tail, her flawless dark face scrunched in concern; shines a small light into each of your eyes. “Your pupils are dilating like normal, but I would feel more comfortable if we loaded you up and took you to the hospital for further evaluation.”

You stare at her blankly for a moment, trying to focus on her words as the rest of the officers clatter around behind you. Aaron squeezes your hand, making you look up into his pinched face. “Oh… yeah, yes.” You mange, looking back to the woman. She gives you a gentle smile, a smile she has probably perfected with her job.

“Alright hun, let’s get you up.”

*~*~*~*~*~*

It’s no secret that the entirety of the team hates hospitals. The fact that they are walking into the unknown of a sterilized building, with its overly bright lights and white walls, sets their nerves on edge. Everyone had gotten the same phone call from David, explaining that you had been attacked and were being taken to the hospital for further examination. Every single member of the team dropped what they were doing to get there, to get to you.

Morgan and Garcia are the first to arrive, having been just a few streets over at a local dive bar. The clicking of Garcia’s heels is loud in the otherwise quiet atmosphere. Morgan’s large hand rests on the small of her back as they follow the directions of the receptionist, the instant relief they felt learning that you were in a common room like a flood of cold water on a hot day.

As they round the next corner Morgan’s eyes land on an open door just down the short hallway. He drags Garcia to a stop, his mouth falling open in stunned silence. “What?” Garcia’s snaps, the incredulous look she gives him wiped away when he points.

Just ahead they can see you perched on the edge of a hospital bed, a white sheet pulled across your lap, your forehead resting against Aaron Hotchner’s sternum. He’s rubbing slow circles against your back with one large palm, and they are able to make out the slight movement of his lips as he speaks with you in a hushed voice. Your arms are thrown around his waist, bobbing your head to whatever is being said before you lean back to look up at the older man. Aaron leans down and presses a gentle kiss to your forehead and Garcia nearly collapses on the spot, her hand flying to her mouth to keep any noise from escaping.

“What in the…” David steps out of the room before Morgan can finish, pulling the heavy wooden door closed behind him as he spots his coworkers. A small smile tugs at his lips as he ambled over to them, meeting them halfway in the hall.

“What was that?” Garcia hisses, rushing up to the older man as fast as her heels will allow.

“That… was none of your business.” David says nonchalantly, shoving his hands into the pockets of his dark jeans.

Morgan scoffs, keeping his voice low in case either of you were to open the door. “That was most definitely something. How long has this been a thing? And with Hotch of all people?”

David finds it difficult to hold in his chuckle at the incredulous look the male gives him, even harder still when Garcia slaps Morgan on the arm. “Be nice.”

“Look. It isn’t my place to say anything, but,” He pauses to gage their faces. “It’s quite new. Now, coffee anyone?”

David strolls away without letting them get another word in, whistling a tune from an old opera. Garcia turns to Morgan with a bright smile, her excitement barely contained making her shoulders and hands shake. Morgan rolls his eyes and gestures to the door.

After Garcia is able to calm herself down Morgan pushes the door open with a soft knock. Aaron is now seated across the room, and you’re slouched on the bed with an ice pack pressed to the back of your head. You look up as they enter, your normally clear eyes red and puffy, your hair disheveled and your nice new clothes wrinkled. You looked shocked to see them, glancing back and forth between the pair.

Garcia rushes you, dropping her bag on the bed and swallowing you in a tight hug. The discomfort you would have felt just this morning at the sudden embrace isn’t there as you hug her back just as tight. “Oh my gosh… are you okay?” You nod as she pulls back, her eyes scanning your face.

“Yeah… just a slight concussion. They are bringing me my discharge papers soon.” You smile weakly up at Garcia, your eyes jumping to Morgan.

“Heya, sweet cheeks.” He says softly, Garcia moving to the side as Morgan takes a seat on the edge of your bed by your legs. He reaches up and touches your chin softly as he scans your face, looking for whatever it is he needs to be reassured you’re okay. “What happened?”

You fiddle with your ice pack for a moment, a knife of embarrassment slashing through you as your shoulders slump forward. “I got home and there was a man robbing my home. I… I left my gun in the car and since I was so focused on the man in front of me I didn’t see the other guy come up from behind. He knocked me over the head and…”

Aaron watches as you shift in your spot, your throat working as you swallow, trying to force the memories and emotions down. “I passed out. I know Bruce got one of them though, my house is covered in blood.”

“Bruce?” Asks Garcia.

“My dog.”

“That means he will be headed to one of the hospitals, a dog bite can be nasty and they might not be skilled enough to take care of it on their own depending on where he got bite.” Morgan nods his head thoughtfully, turning to look at Aaron.

“I already have the local police canvassing the nearest hospital and urgent care phacillities. We will have a blood match if he goes anywhere.” Aaron’s face is lined with worry and anger, a mutual feeling growing in Morgan’s chest.

“Good. Do you remember anything at all about the two men?” Morgan turns back to you, watching as you pick at the itchy blanket in your lap. It’s unnerving seeing your normal stoic persona cracked in half, and yet he’s relieved to know that there is some emotion underneath.

“I only saw one of them, and even then he was wearing a ski mask. His hands were white, his voice plain, he was very tall though, took up most of my foray into the kitchen… one of their names was Mac.”

“We can work with that.” Garcia reassures you, her hand rubbing your back. You nod, the door to your room opening at the same time to reveal a worried looking Reid, JJ, and Prentiss.

As well as they can, they try not to swarm you; each of the women giving you tight hugs and words of relief. When Reid finally makes his way to you, you pull him in for a hug, the shock on his face enough to make most everyone chuckle.

By the time the nurse comes to discharge you, she’s met with a room full of FBI agents. She smiles a little nervously at everyone as she makes her way to you.

“Here you go. Now, get a lot of rest, that means both mentally and physically. Come back immediately if there is any sudden change in your condition, vomiting, dizziness, strong fatigue.” Everyone is nodding along to the nurses instructions, as if they will be the ones making sure you follow doctors orders.

“Thank you.” You take the papers flipping through them as she leaves. Aaron watches you, your body still taught, despite the defeated set of your shoulders. He wants nothing more than to get you alone and finally talk about everything that had happened. To see if you will open up to him.

“Do you need a ride?” Garcia asks, standing up from her chair.

“Oh um no thank you. Hotch and Rossi drove me here, they said they’d take me back to my neighbors house who offered to let me and Bruce spend the night.” The lie that rolls off of your tongue is so believable even Aaron is questioning if that’s what you think will really happen once you’re out of here.

Garcia only nods, throwing an arm around your shoulders and hugging you once again.

*~*~*~*~*~*

ONE LAST CHAPER YOU GUYS 😭😭😭 it’s coming very soon. Like probably tomorrow or the day after I’m crying. 😭😭😭

Tag List: @kneelforloki @hmett20 @axionn @ncis0mrs0gibbs @morgthemagpie @zaddyhotch @little-miss-cherry-cola @fandomawesomness @heart-breaker8 @aad1993 @obsessed-oops @supercriminalbean @lex13cm @rosiehale23 @emptybagofchips77 @icarusgloom @imr0nni3 @cashtons-wife @mojo366 @mrsgweasley @hotchners-wifey @lelevs @normaltuesdaynight @tgskitten @char-jlhewitt @shinebrightlikeafanbase @emobabeyy @bunbunbl0gs @turtleshavesoulmates @mrs-ssa-hotch @balariie @eveyez-exe @nachofriess @aangell333 @wisdomcrys

#smut #apollyonsdarksecrets #aaron hotch fanfiction #aaron hotch fic #aaron hotch imagine #aaron hotch smut #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner smut #aaron hotchner x y/n #criminal minds smut #criminal minds aaron hotchner #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fic

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makeyoumine69 · 7 months

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Degration kink, choking. Pet name, doll face. Noncon.

Know Your Place

PAIRING: Patrick Bateman x Fem!Reader

SUMMARY: If you can't admit you're a slut, Bateman will make you.

CONTAINS: Non-con smut, unprotected vaginal and anal sex, choking, spanking, creampie, mild overstimulation, manhandling, Degradation Kink, pet names, dirty talk, and maybe something else.

WORDS: Less than 1k🥴

A/N: Thank you so much for your request, I hope you like it! 💕

LINKS: [MASTERLIST]; [2k CELEBRATION MASTERLIST]

"Where's Bateman?" Timothy Bryce asked another yuppie, shaking the ash from his cigar and eyeing the club — the endless number of blonde bimbos was fucking unbelievable.

"I think he decided to get some privacy with that hot chick," Craig McDermott remarked before taking a drink. "The one we met when we first got here."

Tim, Craig and David exchanged eloquent glances, the haughty smirks never leaving their faces. After all, what could be better than having fun with a pretty girl like you.

A heavy beat of electronic music rippled through the bodies of the dancing crowd, making them look like a perfectly functioning mechanism. Thanks to the club's noisy atmosphere, no one could hear the obscene sounds you two were making behind the doors of the VIP area.

"How many times... do I have to tell you that I hate to see you... argh... flirting with other guys?" Patrick grunted, thrusting brutally into your supple body from behind, almost fucking you into the wall.

"I...I wasn't flirting with anyone," you wriggled desperately in his strong arms, your beautiful cocktail dress crumpled into folds at your waist. "Aww, please ... stop, i-it hurts!"

"Shut up, you liar," he husked into your ear, grabbing your throat and pulling you back a little. "I saw the way you smiled at Paul…" a quick, hard slap fell on your ass, forcing you to whimper and stop twitching for a moment, surrendering to his dominance. "That bastard was eating you up with his hungry eyes!"

Without saying anything in reply, you clung to his solid hips, wrinkling the soft fabric of his loosened pants as the pace became even more violent, your soaked pussy struggling to accommodate his beefy girth that mercilessly ripped you open more and more with each hard stroke.

"Pat-Patrick..." you mewled in a shaky voice as his grip on your neck tightened — the mild asphyxiation almost causing you to pass out, but as soon as Bateman saw your rolling eyes, he pinned you flat against the wall, causing your engorged nipples to rub harshly against the raw surface. "This...this is too much, please...ahhh!"

Another smack landed on your hip, leaving a searing sensation on the sensitive skin. "Pathetic little whore...you can't even take your punishment," Patrick snarled into the crook of your neck, lifting your leg and pulling out with a loud pop. "You wanted to test me," he drew you closer, encircling your throat again as he slid his throbbing dick along your swollen folds, teasing your overstimulated clit and making you squirm along his massive body. "Just admit it ... admit that you're a fucking slut who likes to be fucked senseless," he squeezed your neck, forcing you to look up at him, your wet eyes only eliciting a devilish chuckle from his smirking lips. "Say it!"

"I —" you hiccupped from the relentless friction between your legs as his cock rubbed intensely against your tender flesh. "I'm such a slut...for y-you."

"Louder, doll face," Bateman demanded, poking several times at your swollen pussy, leaving sticky ropes of his warm cum as he slowly pumped himself. "Make me believe you."

"Mmhm ... please use me like your fucktoy," you begged, almost choking from the lack of air and heavy cramps in your womb from the approaching orgasm. "Do...whatever you want to me!"

Bateman couldn't help but snicker at how miserable you sounded. "Whatever I want?"

Biting his lower lip, he aligned his beefy shaft with your tight asshole and before you knew it, he began to sheathe himself into your most intimate area.

"Pat-Patrick, a-awww—" your loud cry of pain was muffled by his ravenous mouth, consuming all of your wanton sounds as he continued to ram into your tight channel, alternating between squishing your throat and fondling it ever so gently. "So big ... It's s-so big!"

Shaking erratically from the crazy mix of pain and pleasure, you clawed at his hand on your neck and arched your back without even noticing while his large palm sneaked down your hip to stimulate your feverish little bud as Patrick sensed your impending climax.

"Uh, my doll face loves to be fucked really hard," Bateman taunted with an arrogant smile, speeding up so that his heavy balls slapped against your ass. "Look at you, so ruined and overwhelmed ... Falling apart from the way I fuck your pretty, tight ass!"

His perfect dirty talk became the final detail of the sinful puzzle, pushing you over the edge and leaving you nothing more than a trembling, wet mess beneath his strong, broad figure as Patrick never ceased to hammer his firm hips into yours, until he had spent himself inside your ass, plugging it with his pulsating dick, but even so, you could feel his warm cum running down between your quivering legs, marking you in the dirtiest and most intimate way.

Slut.

P.S. Thank you for reading until the end! I don’t have a taglist. You can follow my side blog @makeyoumineagain and turn on notifications to know when I update!

#american psycho #patrick bateman x reader #patrick bateman imagine #patrick bateman #patrick bateman x female reader #patrick bateman x you #slasher x reader #slashers x reader #slasher x you #slasher smut #patrick bateman smut #patrick bateman headcanon #christian bale smut #christian bale x reader #patrick bateman reader #christian bale #patrick bateman imagines

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penny-anna · 2 months

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@snaitf recommended i check out this production of JSC on youtube so i gave it a watch & had a really good time!!

i found Judas a little underwhelming (sadly) but every else very on point. really great vocal performances. will probably listen to this one through again.

soo let's rank it:

How do they style Simon Zealotes?

costuming very minimal throughout so taking that into account yeah this is a good look ✔️

How camp do they play Herod?

ok uh. due to the above mentioned minimal costuming i wasn't expecting much from this but uh

the fuck?

this is where the entire costuming budget went huh dghfdkjghjk

anyway. she was a delight & the whole number was mesmerisingly weird & jarring in a way i've only seen before in the 2000 production. no notes 10/10 ✔️✔️✔️

How’s the high note?

ok this production as a whole has a very heavy emphasis on vocal performances BUT he actually acted the hell out of this number. big tick. ✔️

How do they stage Judas taking the money?

boo 👎i realise this is a very minimal production but they couldn't spring for 1 prop for this scene. c'mon. nothing wrong w the performances we just don't actually see him take the money!! ❌

How’s Judas’s Superstar outfit?

ok i don't actually love this as a look but in keeping w the rest of the production i think it's appropriate so i'll give that a ✔️

How gay is the betrayal with a kiss?

so at first i was like boooo bcos Jesus said the line but they didn't actually kiss??

but no turns out they'd just made the intriguing decision to switch the order on the line & the kiss. anyway this whole production is pretty firmly platonic (which is fine) but the kiss is very soft & tender so i'm giving it a pass ✔️

anyway some other things i enjoyed:

this is a tiny detail but one i don't recall seeing before, they had the line 'come on god, this is not like you' in the arrest scene delivered by Simon?? i love that actually.

Mary Magdalene is so so beautiful & has the voice of an angel im in love with her

Pilate played by a woman is a new one on me. im VERY into it. took me a little while to click w her bcos she started out playing it very villainous but by the end im like actually that was all pitch-perfect. loved it.

Mary fully scream-crying through the crucifixion was another choice i haven't seen before and honestly. harrowing to watch.

#jesus christ superstar

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criminalmindswhore · 8 months

Text

Starry Night

You finally pop the question.

The whole team was at David's for a dinner party in the most casual sense. You were all joined around a fire cracking jokes and telling stories about JJ's kids, Penelope's cats, and Hotch's brother.

Emily watched as you wandered away from the group, your curiosity piqued by something in the distance. A fond smile graced Emily's lips as she recognized your endless thirst for exploration and discovery. She excused herself from the conversation, gracefully making her way through the crowd, following your trail.

Outside, the night air was crisp, carrying a hint of the approaching fall. Emily's gaze fell upon you, who stood near the edge of David's property, your eyes fixed on the starlit sky. The moon casts gentle rays of light, illuminating your face and adding a touch of ethereal beauty to the moment.

Emily approached softly, not wanting to break your reverie. As she drew closer, her voice was hushed, filled with both intrigue and adoration. "What has caught your attention, love?" Emily asked her words a mere whisper. You turned towards Emily with a warm smile, her brown eyes shining with wonder. "Look, Emily," you said, gently pointing upwards. "The stars... They're so beautiful."

Emily's heart swelled at the sight of your awe and appreciation for the simple beauty of nature. Joining you, she looked up at the night sky, taking in the vast expanse of twinkling lights above them. "Yes, they are," Emily replied softly. "It's amazing how something so infinitely distant can touch our hearts and fill us with wonder." You leaned into Emily's side, their shoulders brushing as they stood together under the starry sky. Your connection, both physical and emotional, offered comfort and strength in the stillness of that moment.

Emily's voice turned softer, a warmth emanating from her words. "You know, Y/n, one of the things I love most about you is your ability to find beauty and fascination in the simplest of things," she confessed. "It's like you bring a sense of magic to every moment we share."

Your gaze captured Emily's, a tender smile gracing your lips. "And you, Emily, have a way of grounding me, of anchoring me to the present," you replied, your voice filled with love and admiration. "It's like you see right through me, and I feel so fortunate to have you by my side."

Time seemed to stand still as you and Emily immersed yourselves in the beauty of the night sky, your connection deepening with each passing moment. It was in these shared experiences, these stolen moments of tranquility and affection, that your love flourished.

As you eventually made your way back to the gathering, hand in hand, the warmth and love between you two continued to radiate, unseen but felt by those who knew you two best.

You felt like this was the right moment, the right night to pop the question. You fiddled with the ring box in your pocket and looked to David who nodded. Almost like he knew what you were planning. You slipped it from your pocket, stood and cleared your throat catching the attention of everyone including Emily. You spoke, "Emily, the day I met you I became the person I wanted to be. You have done nothing to help me grow over the past 4 years. I want every single moment with you, the good and bad. I want to grow old with you and drink coffee on the porch. I want to point out the stars to you every night for the rest of our lives. Emily Elizabeth Prentiss," You got on one knee, "Will you do the highest honor and be my wife?" Your heart felt like it was going to stop, you knew she would say yes but this was still horrifying.

Emily's heart skipped a beat as your words echoed through the quiet night, filling the air with a mixture of anticipation and love. Time seemed to stand still as all eyes turned to her, their gazes filled with anticipation and warmth.

The gravity of your heartfelt words struck Emily deeply, her brown eyes glistening with emotion. It was in that moment, surrounded by the people who meant the most to you two, that she realized this was the culmination of your journey, the pinnacle of your love.

As you knelt before her, presenting the ring box, Emily's breath caught in her throat. The weight of the question hung in the air, and she could feel her heart racing with both excitement and a touch of vulnerability. A surge of pure, unadulterated love washed over Emily, drowning any doubts or fears that may have lingered in her mind. She gazed deeply into Rylee's eyes, her voice filled with a blend of certainty and emotion.

"Yes, Y/n," Emily replied, her voice steady but filled with the depth of her feelings. "A thousand times yes. I want nothing more than to spend the rest of my life with you, to cherish every moment, and to be your wife." The relief and joy that filled your eyes was a sight to behold. A collective gasp of happiness and congratulations rippled through the gathered group, their love and support palpable in the air.

You slipped the ring onto Emily's finger, a symbol of your love and commitment to her. It sparkled in the soft glow of the fire, reflecting the love that radiated between you two.

With tears of joy glistening in her eyes, Emily reached out to cup your face, her voice filled with profound love and gratitude. "Thank you, Y/n/n," she whispered. "Thank you for choosing me, for loving me so deeply, and for giving us this incredible future together. I would be honored to be your wife.” As cheers and applause erupted around them, Emily pulled you into a tender embrace, sealing your love in a moment of sheer bliss.

"Emily I love you." You whispered before pressing a passionate kiss to Emily's lips which earned hoots and hollers from the group. Your hands grabbing her waist to pull Emily impossibly closer to you. Emily's heart soared at your whispered confession, your words wrapping around her like a warm embrace.The fervent kiss, igniting a passionate fire that seemed to consume you both. Caught up in the intensity of the moment, Emily felt an electric jolt surge through her body. The cheers and hoots from your friends only served to heighten the rush of emotions coursing through her veins. “It’s about damn time.” Derek said before chuckling. Penelope was a mess, tears running down her face as she recorded the whole thing.

For a blissful moment, the world around you faded into the background as your lips moved in sync, your love and desire pouring into the passionate kiss. As the kiss lingered, Emily's fingers found their way to the back of your neck, lightly treading through your hair, deepening the connection. In that tender touch, you conveyed your love and passion, cherishing every moment of the intimate exchange.

When you finally drew apart, your breaths mingling, Emily's voice was laced with love and desire. "I love you too, Y/n," she whispered, her voice husky with emotion. "With everything that I am." The words carried the weight of a thousand promises, an unwavering commitment that forever bound their hearts.

The cheers and hollers from your friends continued, blending with the crackling of the fire and the distant melody of the night. In that moment, surrounded by love, you and Emily knew that your shared affection and desire for each other would only grow.

In the midst of laughter and kisses stolen in passing glances, you and Emily embraced the love that surrounded you two. Your phone pinged and you glanced at it seeing a video attachment from ‘Penny Girl <3’. You smiled and glanced at her, mouthing a thank you. She nodded in your direction, in all honesty getting to witness that moment was enough thanks for her. Your heart felt as if it could burst from excitement, love, and happiness, and it all happened under a starry night.

#criminal minds #emily prentiss fanfic #emily prentiss x reader #emily prentiss #emily prentiss imagine #emily prentiss fluff

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jerzwriter · 1 month

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The Big ONE

Happy Birthday to little Samantha, who turned one on April 20th!

I asked @/artbyainna (IG) to help create artwork to commemorate the special occasion, and I'm simply squealing at the results! While Tobias and Casey are captivated with their little angel, Pietro is all too happy to jump in and get a bit of that cake he's been eyeing all afternoon! I'm just blown away by this!

I wrote a fic highlighting a few moments during Sammy's big day below. I hope you enjoy the sugary sweetness as much as I do!

Book: Open Heart Pairing: Tobias Carrick x Casey Carrick (F!MC) Characters: Vivian Carrick (F!OC), Jordan Carrick (M!OC), Rose and David MacTavish (OCs), the OH gang, and of course, Pietro - the original cat. Rating: Teen Words: 1,700 A/N: @choicesaprilchallenge24 / Kitchen Table

Standing at her kitchen sink didn't typically usher in so much joy, but then, today wasn't any ordinary day. Casey's heart was full as she peered out the kitchen window into her backyard. It was tiny by suburban standards, but in Boston, it may as well have been an acre. The storms that had been forecasted earlier in the week held off, and the bright sun and azure blue skies provided the perfect canopy for their guests who came to celebrate.

The telltale rattle of the backdoor handle interrupted the silence, and Casey turned to find her husband coming inside. He looked so gorgeous in the fitted pink shirt he bought just for this occasion that she didn't initially catch his expression. Was it bewilderment? Vexation? She couldn't quite make it out.

He reached into the refrigerator and grabbed a bottle of Sam Adams. Popping the cap off, he leaned against the counter and shook his head.

"I can't believe there's a freaking petting zoo in my yard."

Casey chuckled as she closed the distance between them, her head coming to rest on his shoulder as her arms encircled his waist.

"It’s not like you weren’t warned... albeit inadvertently.”

“Still...” he sighed.

“You know, from what I’ve heard, this place was a perpetual petting zoo in the past. Of course, it wasn’t the G-rated type, but even so... this shouldn't be so foreign to you.”

She closed her eyes and pressed closer against him, relishing the way his chest reverberated against her as he laughed.

“While the stories of my past can be a bit on the wild side, they tend to be overexaggerated, my dear.”

Casey squeezed him tighter. “I can’t believe our baby girl is a year old already.”

“I know,” Tobias replied with amazement. “It all went by in a flash.”

“It did,” Casey agreed. “Although, some of the nights felt like they lasted an eternity. Especially in the beginning. God, sometimes I didn’t think I’d survive.”

“You?” Tobias marveled. “No way! You had the whole motherhood thing down pat from the start. You're a natural, babe.”

“A natural?” She laughed. “Are you kidding me? From the moment I found out I was pregnant, I was a hyperventilating mess!" Her hands rubbed along the silky fabric covering his chest, and her voice filled with emotion. “If not for your bright outlook and constant support, I wouldn’t have been able to do it. You’re my rock, T.”

The tender moment was interrupted when the door handle rattled again, and several of their friends stepped inside.

“Jesus!” Jackie groaned. “Do you two ever stop with that lovey-dovey shit?”

“Aw! Leave them alone!” Sienna smiled. “I think they’re adorable.”

“I might be more accepting of that adorable title if it was any random day,” Bryce interjected. “But what the hell are you doing inside with this kissy face crap when you have a freaking petting zoo and bouncy house in your yard?”

“Yeah,” Tobias chuckled. “Ma didn’t read the memo when we said we wanted a simple party with our friends."

“She also didn’t get that none of our friends have children, and Sammy’s too young for friends of her own... I don’t know that we needed all this.”

“Are you kidding?” Bryce gasped in horror. Vivian is a goddess! I’ve been in the bouncy house for the past hour, and that little wallaby out there is now my best friend. You two really need to come out.”

“Oh, I will so be in the bouncy house before this day is over!” Casey enthused.

“And I’ll be there to gleefully record every second,” Tobias winked. “But we’re going to set up to have the cake in here now.”

A peal of laughter wafted in through the open window, and everyone looked outside to see Sammy flying through the air—her face aglow as she giggled with abandon.

“Give her back to me!” Tobias’s brother, Jordan, insisted as Ethan swung the little one around again.

“Sorry,” Ethan responded. “She’s made her position clear. I’m her favorite uncle. You’ll just have to acclimate to being number two, Jordan.”

“Number two,” Bryce blurted as he was about to stick his hand into the nacho dip. “He’s not number two! And Ethan’s not number one! Sorry guys, I have to get out there and reclaim my ground!”

Jackie heaved out a sigh. “I suppose I should go supervise the children.”

“And I’ll make sure she doesn’t hurt anyone,” Sienna said, quick on her friend's heels.

Tobias slid behind Casey, wrapping his strong arms around her as they watched the joyful scene unfolding outside.

“Oh, no! Our parents are getting in on this now,” Casey observed as Tobias kissed her shoulder. “We better go retrieve Sammy before she's more spoiled than she is already."

"Nah," Tobias declined. "She's in very good hands, and I want just one more moment alone with my beautiful wife."

Casey turned around in Tobias's arms and gently kissed him, but he turned that little kiss into one with decidedly more passion.

"Keep that up, and we'll end up with baby number two," she giggled.

"Damn, she's on to my plan," he winked.

~~~~

A short time later, the circus had moved inside as the guests crowded into the family's living room to open gifts.

“I was told we were coming inside for cake,” Bryce pouted.

Vivian, seated next to him, promptly slapped his knee.

“OW!”

“It’s presents before cake, Lahela. Everyone knows that.”

“I don’t think Sammy would mind either way,” he replied but acquiesced when he saw how happy the little girl was ripping into the gift wrap on her presents.

“Look!” Sienna said, tapping Casey’s Mom, Rose, on the shoulder. “She loves the stuffed pony you got her!”

“She does,” Rose beamed. “Although Grandma Vivian supplied the real pony in the yard!”

“Yeah,” Casey’s father, David, laughed. “We’ll have to up our game next year, hon. Vivian here is stealing our thunder.”

“NO!” Tobias and Casey yelled in unison.

“Don’t worry,” Tobias insisted. “My mother is going to be banished from next year’s celebration! We can have some normalcy.”

“Like hell I will be!” she spat as Jordan roared with laughter.

“Please, you have a better chance of Derek Jeter being elected mayor of Boston than you do of Ma missing any of Sammy’s birthdays.”

“That’s right! This fool made me wait almost four decades to be a grandma, I'm not missing any of it now!"

Tobias wrapped his arm around his mother’s shoulders and squeezed her close. “I know you wouldn’t, Ma. And we wouldn't want you to, but... can we celebrate without so many animals next year?”

“I don’t know,” Vivian smirked. “I think it would be wrong not to include your friends.”

~~~~~

A pile of opened gifts sat stacked neatly in the corner as little Pietro played happily with the bits of colorful gift wrap that remained taped to the boxes. But the cat wasn’t the only one excited; after all, it was finally time for CAKE!

“Casey, you look great!” Jordan stated. “But, Tobias, I need you to move a bit to the right.”

“For God's sake,” Tobias groused. “Can you just take the picture already?"

“Can we start singing?” Vivian asked. "I want to sing to my grandbaby."

“As soon as I get this picture,” Jordan replied. “All right! Casey, Tobias... perfect! Now, everyone, help me get Sammy to look this way.”

Everyone gathered behind Jordan, making faces, clapping their hands, and doing all they could to get the precious little girl to look their way. But Sammy only had eyes for one thing... the fluffy pink birthday cake that was just outside of her reach. That is until her feline best friend hopped on the table, stealing her attention and leaving her squealing with delight.

Casey lifted him, placing him gently back on the floor. “Not on the table, Pietro.”

“Yeah!” Jackie replied smugly. “No cake for you.”

The cat hissed at his nemesis as the clamoring to get Sammy to look at the camera continued.

“Oh, for the love of God,” Tobias bewailed. “Can you just take the picture!”

“I sure can,” Jordan nodded. “On the count of three! One... two... three!”

But just as her uncle snapped the photo, Sammy lurched forward and grabbed a fistful of the cotton candy colored icing, and when Tobias attempted to intervene, he ended up with a tiny fistful of sticky, sugary goodness splattered onto his face. A family photo that would be celebrated for generations to come was born.

Beaming, Tobias lifted Sammy off Casey’s lap as her chubby little hands mashed the icing deeper into her father’s beard.

Laughing, Casey pulled her phone out of her pocket to snap some shots of her own. “Our little girl has you wrapped around her finger, T!”

Tobias reached over and pulled Casey close; the sticky icing became a family affair when he kissed her cheek. “She sure does. Just like her, Momma!”

Amidst all the chaos, Pietro saw an opportunity, and he took it! Leaping onto the table, he stuck his paws into the cake and delighted in his sugary bonanza until Casey spotted him out of the corner of her eye.

“Pietro! No!” she hollered as Jackie, the only one who had seen the cat on the table, broke out laughing.

“You saw him and didn’t rat him out?” Casey teased. "What's happened to you?"

Jackie merely shrugged. “You have to admire him. He wanted something, saw an opening, and took it. I’m not about to turn him in for that.”

"Are you and that cat... bonding?" Casey asked.

"I guess Sammy's birthday is capable of miracles."

~~~~~

Hours later, after the final guest had gone home, Casey and Tobias snuggled together on the couch. Sammy slept in her playpen just feet away while Pierto kept a protective watch over her. Despite being exhausted, the proud parents couldn’t wipe the grins off their faces.

“This was such a great day,” Casey smiled. “I knew it would be, but it exceeded all expectations.”

“It was a really great day,” Tobias agreed. “And I think Ma only violated three town ordinances by insisting a wallaby was included in the petting zoo."

“She didn’t break any ordinances,” Casey laughed, her eyes suddenly going wide. “At least, not any that we know of.”

“Well, if she did, we successfully evaded charges, and that's all I can ask for."

“Mmmm,” Casey hummed, snuggling closer to him. “So, do you still want to add another Carrick to all this craziness?”

Tobias sat up, his interest piqued. “Damn straight, I do. Honestly, I want our girls to be close together. Jordan and I had a big age difference, and I’d like Sammy to grow up with her sister, you know?”

“Tobias,” Casey chuckled. “You know we have no way of knowing if we'd have another girl!”

His eyes lit up, and that little dimple Casey found so irresistible took center stage. “Oh, yes, I do. Now the big question... are you ready to have bambina number two?”

Casey sunk back into the fluffy couch cushions with a smile. “Soon? Maybe we can start trying around the end of summer. You know, it might not happen right away, but if we start then, maybe Sammy can have a little sister... or brother... by the end of next year. What do you say?"

“First, sister,” Tobias grinned. “And it will happen right away. Look at how fast it happened with Sammy.”

“Babe, we weren’t planning on Sammy.”

“Exactly,” Tobias grinned, holding Casey close. "I work that damn well when we weren't even trying... you just wait until we are."

Sammy made a funny little noise, and when Mom and Dad realized she was just having a happy dream, they returned to holding each other close.

"Well, I feel a lot better right now than I did a year ago at this time," Casey stated. "I mean, a day of family and friends is a cakewalk next to labor and delivery."

"Yet, you're willing to do it again," Tobias chuckled.

"Yeah, I think I'll make it through," she smiled. "I love our little family, T."

"So do I," he said with a kiss on her forehead. "And I love you."

~~~~~

That's some serious sweetness here, my friends! I hope you enjoyed it... Pietro sure did!

@choicesficwriterscreations @choicesaprilchallenge24 @openheartfanfics

Tagging others separately.

#choices fanfic #choices fanart #open heart #open heart fanfic #open heart fanart #tobias carrick #tobias carrick x f!mc #samantha carrick #open heart choices #choices open heart #choices stories you play #playchoices

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