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cissyenthusiast010155 · 25 days

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Memory Case ~Rita Calhoun xFem Smart!Wife!Reader

Summary— Some at-home fluff, Rita is working on her case that’s he’s taken home, while talking with her wife. Thoughts and conversations about memory ensue.

Mommy… Master List

Requests & Prompt-List

Warnings: all fluff, some science talk, talk of trauma, kissing, happy endings, etc.

Enjoy (;

It was the evening, and you and Rita had found a comfortable routine of doing your late night work at the dining table together, that way you two felt like you were still spending some time together as your jobs ate away your free time.

As you were nose deep into some paperwork, the sound of your name on the other woman’s tongue pulled your gaze up towards her.

“Mmmmm…?” You hum.

Rita paused for a moment, paper and pen in hand, tilting her head at something she was looking at. Your brows raised in curiosity.

“What’s up, babe?” You verbally asked.

“What’s the earliest memory you have…?” The brunette asked out of the blue, obviously having a train of thought behind her words, but having not yet revealed her thinking to you.

You thought about it for a moment, leaning back in your chair.

“Ummmmm… probably my childhood home… when I was around 2 to 3 years old… I remember the street I used to live on, and all the leaves falling because it was fall.” You replied.

Rita finally meets your gaze with a curious look on her face, her contemplation running deep.

“Huh. Interesting…” she commented, before scribbling something down on her notepad.

You put your things aside for a moment, your attention now grabbed.

“Why…?”

“I’ve been thinking about memory a lot recently…” she hummed, going back to her files.

You nodded along in intrigue.

“For a case?”

Rita took a prompt breath and nodded.

“What about it…?” You asked.

The woman then stopped what she was doing to collect her thoughts and meet your gaze once more.

“It’s correlation with how we process… how we remember certain things… how trauma can block certain memories…” She paused for a moment, “I’m thinking of using it as a defense…”

You nodded along, listening to the woman, as she went back to working.

“What do you know about memory?”

Rita snorted a little. Her snorts always made you melt.

“Not much. You?”

“A good deal.”

At your words, Rita put her things down and looked at you once more.

“Really?”

“Baby, I’m a therapist. Memory is like my domain.” You chuckled with a shrug.

Her hands then came forward above the table, nonchalantly prompting you to fill her in.

“Do tell.” She said, cocking her brow in wait.

You chuckled lightly and nodded, pursing your lips and thinking of where to begin, already picking up your hands in preparation to lecture the brunette on your expertise.

“Ok so firstly, Memory can be defined as the faculty by which the mind stores and remembers information. Now there are generally four different kinds of recognized memory— those are sensory memory, short-term memory, working memory, and long-term memory.” You explain, waving your hands about in the way you always did when you were teaching.

Rita tilted her head and listened with intent, nodding along to show her understanding. Her eyes softened at the sight of your hand gestures. She found them to be the cutest rhing.

“Alright, I follow.”

“Good. So according to Baddeley and Hitch, the following is how memory works. First comes the input, this is filtered through our sensory memory, which is where the processing starts. Then with attention, the information moves to the short-term memory, this is where information can be stored for a brief period of time. Another word for this hold is the Central Executive, this is the function of working memory that delegates what information should be retained and processed and what should be forgotten. From there, the information stays in the working memory, able to go to the Visuospatial Sketchpad or the Phonological Loop, the former is for visual and spatial processing, the latter for auditory processing. Still following?”

At this point, Rita had started taking notes, and she eagerly looked up and nodded, prompting you to continue.

“Good good. So from there from the working memory, the information can go to the episodic buffer and then to long-term memory. That’s the basics, it can get more complicated easily, but that’s what I would teach anyone interested in starting to understand memory.” You explain.

Rita lets out an intriguing hum, and you can see the cogs turning in her brain behind those dazzling eyes.

“So what if someone can’t remember what they did…?” The brunette asked.

“Well sometimes it’s because you forget the exact neural pathway, the recollection to the memory. Memory goes through the episodic buffer, something that helps you recall things in episodes or in correlation. When you trigger memories near the one you’ve forgotten, you can recall the one you don’t remember.”

“Hmmmmm I see.” Rita mused aloud, “And trauma?”

You pursed your lips and nodded with a sigh.

“That’s more complicated… Trauma has a way of building blocks or obstacles let’s say for you to access the traumatic memories. It’s best to uncover those with a professional.” You explain.

“And how do you know if it’s just forgotten or if it’s trauma…? I want to make a case for trauma but I don’t want it to bite me in the ass if he suddenly remembers it all.” Rita explained.

You nod again.

“I see. Well then I would say get him clinically evaluated. They should be able to tell you if it’s suppressed, repressed, or just forgotten.”

Rita smiled lightly at your words and nodded in agreement. She didn’t respond immediately, seemingly in thought.

“You okay, babe?” You asked, sitting up a little.

Rita nodded, standing up and making her way over to you. She came up behind you, wrapping her arms around your frame.

“I love you. You know that?” She purred.

You blushed and squirmed in your seat a little. Even to this day, your wife using the L word made you all giddy.

“I love you too, Rita” you hummed.

The woman then swiveled your head to the side and gently connected your lips together. You pressed into the light, caring kiss with a hum of contentment.

“How’d I get so lucky with a genius like you?” She chuckled into your lips.

You shrugged accompanied by a little giggle, as Rita drew you out of your seat and into her close embrace. She literally kissed your breath away. You couldn’t have asked for a more perfect partner.

~~~

Rita Calhoun Masterlist

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wittygutsy · 4 months

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That smile 😊

#elizabeth marvel #law and order svu #rita calhoun #homeland #heather dunbar #house of cards #elizabeth keane

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asolitaryrose3 · 2 years

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She's so mommy! I love her sm ajdhdhsgqb

#rita calhoun #elizabeth marvel #elizabeth keane #heather dunbar

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blackhillfilmss · 2 years

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Ms marvel, please respectfully step on me :)

#rita calhoun #elizabeth marvel #heather dunbar #house of cards #law and order svu #she’s so fucking hot

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markedbyindecision · 1 year

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House of Cards 3x11 - The first debate between presidential candidates Heather Dunbar, Jackie Sharp, and Frank Underwood

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giftedchildturns40 · 2 years

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My face when trying not to giggle at the judge telling a jail inmate that he cannot show his penis to anyone who does not ask to see it.

#baby prosecutor #use your words not your junk when you want to get out of gen pop

#criminal prosecution #misdemeanor #indecent exposure #heather dunbar

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httpjupiterbby · 2 years

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1.1𝐤 𝐜𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 || 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 || 𝐧𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐠𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬 = 𝐡𝐭𝐭𝐩: 1.1𝐤 𝐜𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

─────────────────────────

𝐁𝐥𝐮𝐫𝐛𝐬:

𝐎𝐧𝐞 (𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐚 𝐦𝐚𝐱𝐢𝐦𝐨𝐟𝐟 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫) ☽

𝐓𝐰𝐨 (𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐚 𝐦𝐚𝐱𝐢𝐦𝐨𝐟𝐟 𝐱 𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐚𝐬𝐡𝐚 𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐟𝐟 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫) ☽

𝐓𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞 (𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐚 𝐦𝐚𝐱𝐢𝐦𝐨𝐟𝐟 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫) ♡

𝐅𝐨𝐮𝐫 (𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐚 𝐦𝐚𝐱𝐢𝐦𝐨𝐟𝐟 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫) ♡

𝐅𝐢𝐯𝐞 (𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐚 𝐦𝐚𝐱𝐢𝐦𝐨𝐟𝐟 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫) ♖

𝐒𝐢𝐱 (𝐣𝐞𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐲 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫) ♡

𝐒𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 (𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐚𝐬𝐡𝐚 𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐟𝐟 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫) ♡

𝐄𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 (𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐚𝐬𝐡𝐚 𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐟𝐟 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫) ♡

𝐍𝐢𝐧𝐞 (𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐚𝐬𝐡𝐚 𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐟𝐟 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫) ♡

𝐓𝐞𝐧 (𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐚𝐬𝐡𝐚 𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐟𝐟 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫) ♖

─────────────────────────

𝐖𝐢𝐩 𝐬𝐧𝐞𝐚𝐤 𝐩𝐞𝐞𝐤 ⌛️:

𝐎𝐧𝐞 (𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞 𝐩𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫)

𝐓𝐰𝐨 (𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐚𝐬𝐡𝐚 𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐟𝐟 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫)

#httpjupiterbby #http: 1.1k celebration #natasha romanoff x reader #wanda maximoff x reader #bette porter x reader #melina vostokoff x reader #emily prentiss x reader #jennifer jareau x reader #wandanat x reader #jemily x reader #carol danvers x reader #maria hill x reader #heather dunbar x reader #rita calhoun x reader #lady dimitrescu x reader #alcina dimitrescu x reader #leigh shaw x reader

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roadtonowherexx · 2 years

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I usually forget that the majority of my favourite ships from some years back (I still love them today tho) are actually canon but for some reason now I seem to only ship characters that I feel they have chemistry but that are not actually canon-compliant and I don't know what that says about me.

#Yeah i'm looking at you #buddie #harringrove #thiam #spideypool #buck x eddie #911 #evan buckley #eddie diaz #stranger things #billy hargrove #steve harrington #robin x heather #teen wolf #theo raeken #liam dunbar #peter parker #wade wilson

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storiesofsvu · 9 days

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Decadent Desires Ch 2

Future Emily Prentiss x reader Warnings: language, alcohol consumption, sexual situations alluded to. Okay y'all were super interactive on the first chapter so I figured I'd give you an early chapter as a treat. Lol.

A full week had passed, another one full of overbearing work, handling the slight squabbling from the team while also dealing with constant badgering from the higher ups and Emily was over it. She scooped the final bite of linguine out of the pan, chewing it down while she moved the dish into the dishwasher thankful at least that she didn’t have to hand wash things tonight. It had been an annoying week and the bottle of wine on the counter had been calling her name since about two in the afternoon, the thought of an orgasm to relieve some stress on her mind from the moment she got home. However it wasn’t close enough to shower or bed time yet so the wine would have to do for now.

Emily refilled her glass, picked up her phone and opened the door to the patio, figuring at the very least she could enjoy the warm evening and actually get some fresh air after being cooped up in the office all week. Settling into one of the chairs she swiped open her phone and immediately had to resist the temptation to check her email, reminding herself she wouldn’t be so frustrated if she left work at work unless it was completely urgent. So she scrolled through a couple of social media apps, wasting time looking at pictures posted by friends, which in turn made her feel even more like she was missing out on something. She closed Instagram and her thumb hovered over the screen while she tried to figure out what to doom-scroll on next, finding herself staring at the little red apps Heather had installed. She took a breath, a large sip of wine and bit the bullet, opening the first one and she was pleasantly surprised she could scroll through a handful of profiles without setting one up for herself first.

‘Caitlin. 21.’

“Okay well you’re barely legal.” Emily muttered to herself, scrolling down further.

‘Steven. 32.’

A better age, but still a step in the wrong direction.

‘Kyla. 38.’

Better. But she could only see the main picture, age and location. Pulling her lip into her mouth she flicked around through a couple of pages until she found the how to tips and realized she would have to make a profile after all, even if it was just to see more information. She let out a huff, closing the app, hesitating only a minute before she opened up her text conversation with Heather.

‘Are you SURE this is a good idea?’

Her phone buzzed only a few seconds later.

‘The apps are fine. I’m assuming you haven’t even made a profile yet and it’s just pushing out what it thinks people want to see. You can curate your own experience once you put in your preferences.’

‘And if it still sucks?’

‘Oh come on, what’s the harm in one date? At the very least it’ll keep you entertained.’

‘Who said I’m not entertained?’

‘It’s Friday night and you’re texting me instead of being out somewhere.’

‘And you’re answering.’

‘I’m waiting for Rob to pull the car around; you just caught me at a convenient time.’ ‘Make a profile. There’s no harm in seeing what’s out there. You can blame me if it’s terrible.’

‘Add on a free lunch.’

‘Tell you what, this doesn’t work, I’ll bump it up to dinner and show you a couple of the discreet clubs around the city.’

‘Mark me down as intrigued. Deal.’

Emily let out a huff, swigging back a mouthful of wine before finally reopening the first app to start to put together her own profile. Maybe there really was a chance that this could work out.

Carly. 35.

Emily was almost late, one work call turning into another, turning into getting put on hold meant she didn’t have time to go change after work, arriving at Smoke and Mirrors still in her business casual. She was just in the nick of time and instantly found her date nestled into a cozy table on the patio overlooking the river, martini already in front of her.

It wasn’t necessarily that she slipped back into work mode, but her job did help her meet and interact with new people on a regular basis fairly easily. A warm smile and greeting, unsure how awkward something like a handshake would be considering the situation. A few rounds of drinks, a couple of split appetizers, and a decent enough time. While Carly could hold a perfectly good conversation and Emily could see them perhaps being friendly in the future, it wasn’t the right vibe. It certainly wasn’t helping that Emily could practically feel every set of eyes in the lounge on them throughout the night and that you didn’t have to be a profiler to put it together what kind of a situation was going on. It made Emily uncomfortable, like everyone was judging them, more specifically, her. If the two of them had been more friendly to each other right off the bat you might have been able to tell that it wasn’t a date, that they were colleagues or friends but that simply wasn’t the case. Her mind wandered to the thought that there was someone in the room that likely just assumed they were mother, daughter and that made her skin absolutely crawl and instantly ask if they could get the check. She at least felt a little bit better when Carly offered to split it, offering her a small smile that meant she was about on the same page.

Alice. 36.

This time Emily gave herself more than enough time to get home, have a glass of wine to help her relax and change into something more date appropriate. Alice had recommended Fiola and Emily had simply gone along with it, not realizing just how high end it actually was, her eyes widening at the fact that a single cocktail could set you back twenty-five to almost thirty dollars much less the food menu. At the very least, it seemed like the restaurant’s lounge was the place to be for date night on a Thursday, couples scattered throughout the place in various levels of dress. She noticed something on the menu advertising it being the place to be prior to theatre events and their server asked if they were attending a show tonight.

Emily had a little bit more faith in this one, feeling more comfortable considering the setting, actually relaxing as she laughed over her very expensive drink. It didn’t take long for the conversation to roll around to what one did when not out on the town and she let it slip that she worked for the government, a few more carefully worded questions and Alice had enough to figure out she was a fed, excusing herself to use the bathroom. When the room started to clear and Emily realized the other woman’s purse was gone from the back of her chair she let out a soft groan, realizing she was definitely stuck with the pricey cheque.

Lily 31.

Emily knew going in this one could be risky based off age alone. Lily’s profile seemed like she did this full time and she already wasn’t sure about things by the time she set foot into 1798. Her suspicions were confirmed when her phone went off with an urgent call she had to take, letting out a sigh as she returned to the table explaining that she had to leave for work and likely wouldn’t be back for a few days at least. In return Lily let out a huff and a whine like she was a toddler, crossing her arms over her chest and demanded that Emily pay for a three course dinner and send her roses each day she was going to be gone since she had wasted her time. Emily outwardly laughed, saying drinks were the only thing she’d even agreed to have, much less pay for and left as fast as she came in.

Kimberly. 39.

This one got postponed immediately as a case kept them out of town longer than anticipated. They were still only chatting back and fourth on the app and Emily was venting about being the one in charge and how her team were agents and you’d think they could handle certain things themselves but apparently not. She woke up the next morning to find a couple of messages that insinuated Kimberly might have been doing other things for money that weren’t exactly legal and thought it wasn’t a good idea to get involved with a cop. After Emily sent a reply agreeing, the match disappeared.

Emma. 34.

This one started off slow, a match, Emily shot off a message and waited a while to hear back. She was pleasantly surprised when her phone pinged with the reply she’d been hoping to get for a few days. They got along wonderfully, everything seemed to be falling right into place, their opinions, expectations, they shared a handful of the same favourite movies, foods, for once it seemed like things would be perfect. Emily opened the app when she got home from work that night to ask her out for drinks that weekend to find that she’d been completely ghosted, unmatched and no way to find Emma again.

Kori. 40.

The second match that had gone off without a hitch and a plan to meet at Blue Duck Tavern that coming Thursday night. Emily arrived a little bit early thanks to a complete lack of traffic and figured she would just grab a drink at the bar while waiting. You could only imagine her confusion when she was tapped on the shoulder and turned around to see an older than middle aged man with a timid smile introducing himself, apologizing that he didn’t look like his pictures.

That one earned an eye roll and a ‘yeah, right’ before Emily was heading for the door.

The week had finally come to a close and Emily had dismissed the BAU shortly after lunch, telling the team to get out of there while they still had the chance and everyone was quick to leave the building, herself included. Construction rerouted her normal commute home and when she ended up in the same neighbourhood as Heather’s office her mind wandered back to how unsuccessful her past two weeks had been and before she even really realized it, she was pulling into the parking lot.

“I’m being serious Heather, it’s fucking terrible.” She groaned, dropping down into a chair across from the other woman’s desk. “This is almost as bad as dating men was.”

“From what I heard some of them are men.” Heather replied with a tease and Emily shot her a glare.

“I just thought this would be easier.”

“Finding the right fit is the hard part, it’ll smooth over once you do.” Heather flipped the book in front of her closed, standing from her chair and crossing over to the liquor cart, filling up two glasses of scotch.

“I didn’t want to deal with the hard part though.” Emily continued to mope, thanking her for the glass.

“Drink. You’re too pent up.” She settled back at her desk, “you really do need to get laid.”

“Don’t you think I’m trying!?” She sucked back a mouthful of the liquor, stewing in her thoughts for a moment. “Please tell me you’re having more success in this than I am, how’s your bartender doing?”

“Are you kidding?” Heather laughed, “you saw her. She’s practically pathetic. She was pretty enough, but my god the level of insecurity? The constant whining and worrying? Don’t get me wrong, I love a good brat but there was no way she wouldn’t have been crying on my doorstep begging me to leave my husband in a week’s time.”

“Have you had that happen before?” Her eyes widened at the sheer thought of it as Heather nodded.

“Best piece of advice I can give you, don’t let them know where you live. Stick to hotels.”

“Noted.”

“What are you having the biggest trouble with? Maybe I can help.”

Emily sighed softly, swirling her cup as she stared into it, sorting through the string of failed dates, “honestly I don’t even know. Maybe I just need to play around with the age range…. Would probably help to bump it up a little it.”

“Anything under thirty-five does usually end up getting messy.”

“I want someone who has their life a little bit more put together; you know?”

“Mmhmm.” Heather replied over the rim of her drink, “you need to make sure that this isn’t their only source of income, that they have something else going on to fill their time and bank account up. Maybe someone who has an actual partner.”

“I don’t know about that.” Her nose crinkled, “would feel wrong. But someone who has a full time job and wouldn’t be completely dependant on me certainly would be nice. I don’t have the time or energy for that.”

“You need a gorgeous, ambitious girl who knows how to be discreet in public and likes get her brains fucked out in private.”

“Exactly.” She laughed, taking another sip of her drink as Heather tilted her phone screen towards her, hitting a couple of buttons before returning her attention to the other woman, “you know, if you ever think of changing career paths…”

“Become a matchmaker for sugar babies?” She chuckled, “there would likely be a market for that, maybe after retirement.”

Emily laughed, shaking her head as she watched the wheels start turning in the other woman’s head. She heard a brief knock on the door behind her before it swung open,

“I didn’t realize you needed this by the end of the day, sorry.” You swung through the office, coming to perch on the side of Heather’s desk as you handed her the file.

“It’s alright, it slipped my mind too.” Heather replied as she opened the file, skimming through it.

Her eyes flicked over to Emily briefly, watching the way her gaze drifted from the designer heels on your feet all the way to the necklace laying against your collarbone. You were dressed professionally yet incredibly stylish, dark pencil skirt, a peach sleeveless blouse tucked into it, blazer no doubt laying over the back of your desk chair. A delicate silver watch around one wrist, perfectly manicured nails and eyes that were suddenly set on her.

“Hi, sorry to interrupt. You’re FBI, right? Prentiss?” Your words jolted her out of her trance and she caught herself scrambling over the fact that you knew her name, wondering if she’d left her ID badge on after work.

“Well now I feel bad.” She laughed.

“Don’t.” Heather cut in, her eyes back on the file, “she just does checks on anyone that comes in here.”

“Ignore her.” You replied with a grin, sticking out your hand to introduce yourself, “y/n Walton.”

“And you’re what? Secret security?” Emily asked with a tease and you laughed as Heather tucked the file away into her desk.

“She’s the head of my PR team, does incredible work.”

“I should hope so, you practically groomed me into the assistant you needed.”

“I did not—” Heather scoffed, “you’re a horrible tease.”

“I do my job and then some, and I do it phenomenally.” You showboated for a second, grinning over at Emily before looking up at your boss, “which is why I’m double checking it’s still okay to duck out early tonight?”

“Why?” The other woman asked with a smirk, “you have a hot date or something?”

“Heather, please.” You barked out a laugh, “you’re a slave driver! You know I don’t have time to properly date with my schedule.”

“So why the need to play hooky?”

“A new Netflix special drops at six and I have a frozen pizza, a pint of ice cream and that bottle of Bordeaux screaming my name.” You slipped off the side of her desk, “besides, you still owe me the OT for putting together the gift baskets and flower arrangements for Senator Reeves. You do remember you have an assistant for that kind of shit, right?”

“Oh but sweetheart you’re so much better than them.”

“I know.” You grinned at her, “which is why I’m leaving early.”

She laughed, shaking her head, “keep your phone on.”

“Of course.” You turned, smiling across at Emily, “nice to meet you Agent Prentiss.”

Emily couldn’t help the way her eyes followed you out of the room before she finally turned back to Heather who was grinning like the cheshire cat over the rim of her drink.

“What?” She asked, feigning confusion and Heather chuckled.

“You liked what you saw.”

“Hard not to.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you drool like that over someone before.”

“I—I was not drooling!”

“Maybe not from your mouth.”

“Heather!” Emily felt her cheeks begin to burn, attempting to hide behind her glass as the brunette let out a dark laugh.

“Here, at least take her phone number.” Picking up a pen she scrawled the digits out onto a post it note, handing it to Emily.

“I don’t have time to date, you know this.”

“And you heard her.” She gestured toward the door, “she doesn’t either. You wanted someone with their head on straight who is comfortable occupying themselves when you’re working. I make her schedule; I guarantee she works as many hours as you do. Besides… she’s done this a couple of times before.”

That caught Emily’s attention, looking up from the yellow paper in her hand with her brow furrowed, “really?”

“Yes.”

“With women?”

“She needed some help through college, I was bored.” Heather shrugged, “worked out for both of us and now she’s on my actual payroll.”

“She’s been working for you that long?”

“Mmhm.” Heather nodded.

“So you really did groom her?” Emily teased and it was Heather’s turn to scoff, rolling her eyes.

“Just call her.” She half glared, “god knows she could use a night out, and one where she doesn’t have to rub elbows with politicians the entire time. She deserves a break and likely needs a good fuck, both of which I’m sure you can give to her.”

“We really don’t need to have that conversation.” She laughed, tucking the post it into her pocket, “but thank you. I will think about it.”

“Don’t think too long.” Heather smiled as Emily got up from her chair, scooping up her jacket from the back of it. “If you come back here in two weeks complaining about the shitty apps and you haven’t called her yet I’ll start feeding her lies about how much you suck.”

“Okay, okay.” She laughed, “I’ll call. And I’ll see you later.”

_________________

@mickey-gomez @momlifebehard @daddy-heather-dunbar @maybe-a-humanbean @rustyzebra @leftoverenvy @kades95 @dextur @supercriminalbean @emilyprentisssluvr @lex13cm @zizzlekwum @emobabeyy @riveramorylunar @scorpsik @onmykneesformarvel @inlovewithemilyprentiss @regalmilfs4me @ara-a-bird @five-bi-five-mind @inlovewithmiddleagewomen @hotchs-bitch @ollysmulti @kmc1989 @irishavengersassemble @hopedoesntknow @venromanova @waitaminuteashh @noahrex @imlike-so-gaydude @wittygutsy @cx-emerald-cx @momily @nilaues @borinxnovak @soverign @v3nusxsky @blackbird-brewster @mccdreamys-writes @l4yne @obsessedwjill @supercorpstan97 @asolitaryrose3 @honeyycatt @trauma-factory @lisqueen

#emily prentiss #emily prentiss x reader #criminal minds #decadent desires #criminal minds fanfic #emily prentiss fanfiction #heather dunbar

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cissyenthusiast010155 · 21 days

Text

Walls Broken Down ~Broken!Rita Calhoun xFem Younger!Reader

Summary— AU where Rita is friends with a young Reader (thinking 20s, whereas Rita’s in her mid to late 40’s). Rita has a past that haunts her, and one day it just all becomes too much. Reader is there for Rita as much as she can be.

Mommy… Master List

Requests & Prompt-List

Warnings: angst, implied anxiety attack, past trauma, implied small mental breakdown, fluff, age gap (all legal), comforting, physical comforting, happy ending fluff, etc.

Enjoy (;

She knew you hadn’t meant to. All you had done was brush her shoulder as she had walked past Rita to grab some utensils. But now Rita could feel herself trembling in her own kitchen. She could feel her knees wobbling and her lip trembling. Before she knew it, she was collapsing back against the pristine marble top counter, falling to the accented floor with her back to the dark walnut cabinets.

Waves of raw pain crashed over the woman. She could feel the tears already surfacing as the memories punched her in the gut, one after the other relentlessly. Memories of him. A past too terrifying to reconcile. Him invading her senses once more. Him taking advantage of her once more. Him, the man who had ruined her for anyone else. She felt so numb. She felt so violated. She felt so used. Rita’s mind replayed painful memory after painful memory, not able to stop. That one singular touch had sent her mind into a spiral.

As Rita came crashing down to the floor, you had dropped what you were doing and had rapidly approached the shaking brunette. But as you kneeled down to comfort and check in with her, you had extended your hand to the women’s back. Rita instinctively withdrew with sharp skill, a horrifying instinct drilled into her. She sucked in a breath as she avoided your touch, like it was a hot, scalding iron rod, curling up with her arms around her retracted knees.

Rita closed her eyes, and a tear escaped her left eye as she recalled all the haunting memories of her past, the ones that she had thought had surely been buried long ago. Seemingly not. Her limp, curled up form floated back to that day. All those years ago, she had been so young. She had been so innocent, kind of like you. Your touch hadn’t even been that bad, hadn’t even been intentional. But it didn’t matter. A flood of sadness came over the woman next, filling every sense of her being in a depressive state.

Rita couldn’t stop the following downpour of tears that emerged from her form. She curled even tighter into herself, shaking violently on the ground. In the back of her mind, she could vaguely hear you calling out her name in appropriate concern. But the ringing pain in her head was louder. The brunette sat on her kitchen floor; her tears ran down her body and pool on the ground. She managed to peek out of her cocoon, but she couldn’t look at you. Instead, her reeling mind tried to grasp the surroundings around her. From her position, She could see the heights of her living room, where her Bloomingdale curtains had once hung, but now with her remodel, all there remains are the new, empty gold drapery rods waiting for new, luxurious drapes to cover the glass wall. She tried to focus on those, the drapery rods.

Her mind was an abyss. Her life was a failure. Why did she even try? It was useless. She was useless. Part of Rita knew that was not true, but that part was currently tied up, duck-taped, and thrown in a closet, door locked and key lost. The new and improved part of her that she had spent curating was thrown aside. The new coats of platinum white on her walls were stripped to reveal the mundane beige of her college youth. This wasn’t your fault. It was her own. She deserved this. She deserved all of this. She cringed internally at how pathetic she was behaving, at how pathetic she was.

After a god awful amount of time of sobbing on the tile floor, Rita eventually could produce no more tears. She sniffled and slowly raised her head from her defensive curl towards you. And she was immediately met by your eyes dazzling with concern and naivety. You looked up to her like a mentor and here she was breaking down in the middle of her kitchen. How pathetic. Rita felt a pang of guilt ripple through her as you attempted to speak to her once more.

“Hey, Rita…Are you okay…?”

But Rita was in no state for verbal coherence. She nodded, as her lip trembled. She felt so small. Even though she was taller than you, even though her build was stronger than you, even though she was decades older than you, Rita still felt small. She felt like she was small enough for the world to swallow her whole without anyone noticing. She felt like she was small enough for him to come back and for her to not be able to fight back.

Your eyes softened as you nodded and cautiously extended a hand to the brunette. Rita couldn’t help the small gasp that escaped her lips at the kind gesture. That alone made her want to cry again. She slowly reached out and gingerly took your hand. With your help, the woman stood up on her wobbly legs. She took a deep breath as she stood. You didn’t know what happened, what was happening. But you were determined to be there for Rita.

Rita’s thoughts were still swimming, but now she had an anchor. Now, your consenting touch was keeping her tethered to reality. As you guided her to sit down by the kitchen island, Rita took deep breath after deep breath. She now knew that she couldn’t continue to ignore her past like this. No matter how many properties she owned, no matter how many times she remodeled and tried to cover it all up, no matter how many times she rebought her entire wardrobe, it would never go away. No, she had to properly heal. And as she squeezed your hand in gratitude and reassurance, she knew that she would be alright.

~~~

Rita Calhoun Masterlist

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