#im just so sorry about what is going to happen | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

aureatelys · 3 days ago

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as soft as the rain, pretty as a vine

pairing: aaron hotchner/fem!bau!reader w.c.: 6k a/n: inspired by that one gifset of hotch desperately needing some moisturizer on his neck im so sorry. also my first time writing hotch's pov, pls be gentle. c.w.: fluff! friends to lovers, kinda sunshine/girly!reader, mutual pining, alcohol mention, author pretending like they know about skincare, hotch is whipped and touch starved af, no y/n

summary:

You think Hotch needs to take better care of himself. Hotch doesn't know what to think. Or, 5 times you teach Hotch about skincare more than he wants to and 1 time he teaches you.

read below or ao3 here

one.

When Hotch first walks into the conference room ready to go over a new case, there’s something different that he can’t quite put his finger on.

Words dying in his throat, he sweeps his eyes over the entire room and doesn’t see anything significantly out of place. Then he’s passing over everyone’s faces, mentally keeping a note on how exhausted most of them are looking, and then landing on you.

Having only joined a couple of months ago, you were still fairly new to the team. However, with your sunny disposition and eagerness to learn, you blended right in. Hotch had watched in amusement as you were able to keep up with Reid’s ramblings, Morgan’s flirting, and Garcia’s antics. You were insightful, able to give new perspectives that Hotch would never have even considered, patient with victims and their families, and Hotch admired you for that.

Today, however, you look considerably suspicious as you give him a sheepish smile and a little wave. “Morning, Hotch,” you say, eyes sparkling, followed by a round of greetings from the rest of the team.

“Morning.” And then he spots a machine on the table near the wall, shaped and designed like a cat and spouting off what looks like steam at a steady and continuous rate.

Now that he’s noticed it, he realizes the conference room feels significantly stickier, the sudden humidity a stark contrast to the dry winter air outside. He can sense the slight congestion he’s been waking up to the past several months gradually disappearing.

“It’s a humidifier,” you explain after spotting the slightly confused expression Hotch was wearing, as if he’s never seen one before. To be fair, he doesn’t think he’s seen one in years as Haley was usually the one who dug it out of storage when Jack wasn’t feeling well. “I brought it from home, I thought it was a little dry in here. Is that okay?”

“I hope so, I was worried about getting a nosebleed the other day.”

“It’s good to have it around during this time of year, Hotch. Did you hear Anderson coughing this morning?”

“It’s also beneficial to have one on while you sleep, both with the white noise and being able to clear your sinuses and breathe easier with its optimal humidity levels.”

Truthfully, Hotch doesn’t care and he’s sure there isn’t some ridiculous regulation about not allowing a small humidifier, especially when Garcia has two space heaters in her office that you’ve had to ask to borrow at least twice a week.

However, the way you’re glancing up at him now from your spot at the round table, eyes wide and fluffy pink scarf wrapped around you because you apparently run colder than the rest of the team, Hotch would probably let you get away with anything.

He immediately sets that thought aside, not wanting to dwell on exactly what that means right now. He takes the only empty seat left that just happened to be right next to you, making sure to keep a respectable distance. “It’s fine. Just make sure to turn it off and empty it before we go.”

You give him a blinding smile that momentarily distracts him from the bubbling humidifier and the clouds of mist that are nearly falling into his face. “Sure thing. Did you know that it can also help with dry skin? So technically, we’re just taking care of our bodies if they ask why we need it.”

Although it makes sense now that he thinks about it, Hotch didn’t know that. He also doesn’t remember the last time he put on lotion or moisturizer, no matter how dry his hands felt.

Just then, Garcia wobbles in with her yellow heels and coffee mug, immediately launching into the brutal details of the case and where the team will be headed out to for the next couple of days.

When Hotch gets up to grab his go-bag from the office, he tries to ignore how it feels like he can breathe a little bit easier.

two.

“God, it’s freezing in here.”

Hotch glances up from his laptop mid-report to witness you taking the seat next to his with a resounding oof. You’re wrapped up in a blanket that you had brought from home that has somehow taken permanent residence on the jet, shivering despite the heater being on full blast. The corner of it lands on his knee, soft and warm.

The team had just finished a case in rural Montana, surrounded by mountains of snow and the wilderness. You had remembered to pack warmly at least, as Hotch had witnessed you struggling to take off the several layers of sweaters every time you arrived at the precinct. He remembers frowning in the car on the way to apprehend the unsub as you shivered in the passenger seat, having had to wear only a layer or two due to the bulky Kevlar vest and needing to be quick on your feet.

“It’ll warm up here in a second,” Hotch says, already wracking around his brain to see if there was another blanket hidden in a compartment somewhere. “A cup of tea will probably help.”

You slouch down further in your seat, cocooning yourself even further under the thick blanket. “I don’t want to get up.”

Hotch is almost tempted to lock his computer and get up to make you that cup of tea himself, however he glances around the cabin and notices several knowing pairs of eyes on him. He doesn’t have to be a profiler to know what the rest of the team thinks—that he’s gone soft on you.

You with your fuzzy blue blanket wrapped around your shoulders like a cape and the thick socks that you put in your bag specifically for the plane ride home. He knows he’s not imagining the lingering glances you throw at Hotch or the way you occasionally stay late as an excuse to bother him in his office.

And he doesn’t necessarily mind. There’s a strange, innate pull that tugs in his stomach when it comes to you, causing him to watch you more carefully and seeking out your presence at almost every opportunity. The sheer grip of panic on his heart when you were shot after taking down an unsub by yourself and without backup several months ago had Hotch re-evaluating everything he knew about himself.

He’s aware of the possible repercussions, which is exactly why Hotch has learned to be patient when it comes to you, who has threatened him to forgo his patience altogether with every bubbly laugh he can hear from his office or knock of your shoulders against his in the conference room.

So he doesn’t get up to make you that cup of tea despite knowing how you take it with a splash of milk and two sugars, and instead turns back to finish the action report.

It’s only several minutes later when he notices you rummaging around in your bag out of the corner of his eye before you pull out a small and colorful lotion bottle with a triumphant noise. You pop the cap open and slather some on your hands before you’re turning to face Hotch again, the novel that Reid recommended to you untouched on the table. “Do you want some?”

The bottle in your hand looks somewhat familiar, most likely something he’s passed by at the store or on your desk, but Hotch balks at the pink flowers painted all over the bottle. He’s lucky the undoubtedly suffocating smell hasn’t hit him yet. “I’m fine, thanks.”

But you don’t put the lotion back in your bag, instead shifting in your seat until you’re fully facing him. Your blanket is nearly draped over Hotch’s thigh. “Are you sure? You know, it’s really important to make sure your hands are moisturized, especially with how cold it is here.”

He doesn’t know why you’re so adamant about this, peering up at him with bright and eager eyes and the open lotion bottle poised over his hands. He’s never liked putting on lotion, or any kind of creams, as it always made his hands feel uncomfortably greasy. He would eventually wash it off anyway.

He turns his attention back to his laptop, yet wordlessly puts a hand out towards your direction.

He thinks you’re going to pour a generous dollop and let him rub his own hands together, but instead, he nearly jumps in his seat when you’re grabbing onto his hand with both of yours and slathering whatever’s leftover on your hands into his palms and the back of his hands.

Your hands are cold, even moreso than his, but the sharp tingle that runs up his arm at your touch causes something warm to bloom in his chest.

“I didn’t want to waste it,” you respond to the confusion on his face. You’re thorough; making sure to slather the cream in between his fingers and even down to his wrists. He senses the sneaking glances the rest of the team are throwing his way, maybe even smug, but he’s painstakingly distracted by the way your hands look in his, the way he can feel both of your hands gradually warming up.

And then you’re pulling away, and Hotch suddenly misses your tender touch.

Like he expected, his palms suddenly feel gross, unpleasantly slippery like he has oil all over them. He wants to rub his palms on his pants or go wash his hands, but your watchful eyes stop him.

And then it hits him— the sudden scent of you, floral with some hints of vanilla, overwhelming his senses. It’s undeniably the same scent as your perfume, the one that seems to linger every time you stride past him at the office or when you’re leaning over Hotch to laugh at something Morgan said. Now, it causes him to sharply inhale, chest feeling unnervingly tight as he unconsciously marks it to his memory.

You’re still watching him with an expectant smile, bottle stored away in your bag for you to pull out again after you’ve gotten up to use the restroom and used the cheap hand soap that you’ve repeatedly complained about before. You look unfazed, as if your simple touch hasn’t sent Hotch’s brain reeling.

“It’s nice,” Hotch manages to say, voice only slightly strained. The smell is not as strong as he expected, but it’s still doing strange things to his heart more than he’d like to admit.

If possible, your smile widens. “Just nice?”

“Well, I don’t think it’s quite my signature scent.”

You hum and turn away, picking up your book despite Hotch knowing you’re not going to read a single page of it today, the spine already creased from where you’ve been laying it face down multiple times over the past month. “No, your signature scent already fits you.”

Hotch says nothing, not entirely sure how to respond to that, but your attention is already caught by the game of cards Reid and Emily are playing several seats away. You immediately set your novel down and scramble up and out of your seat to be their enthusiastic audience, leaving a trail of vanilla behind you.

Hotch immediately misses the warmth of your blanket.

three.

“What are you looking for now?”

You’ve been digging through your bag, your pink personal one that’s almost as big as your go bag, for the past five minutes. Hotch can hear the various items clinking around and the crinkling of multiple old receipt papers as you curse under your breath. He frowns, tempted to encourage you to clean out your bag if only to make packing more convenient for you. He couldn’t count the number of times you’ve exclaimed on the jet that you had forgotten something.

The team had gotten called to another small rural town in North Dakota for an unsub that’s been killing during the protective guise of blizzards, which is why Hotch was driving so painstakingly slow that Morgan would’ve surely had an aneurysm if he was in the same car. Despite the roads having already been salted, there was still a concerning amount of ice on the roads that had Hotch sitting ramrod straight in his seat and gripping the steering wheel so hard his knuckles were nearly turning white.

Luckily, it was only you and Hotch in the car, heater on full blast. You’re wearing at least three sweaters today with your coat draped over your legs and haven’t even complained once about it being too cold, citing how you’ve never seen this much snow before in your life. Hotch found it all extremely endearing watching you nearly jump in your seat at how the evergreen trees looked covered in snow. Like a Christmas movie, you had said.

“Found it!” You pull out a travel sized bottle of sunscreen, hurriedly twisting the cap open to squeeze and draw lines down three fingers.

Hotch glances at you out of the corner of his eye, brow furrowed in confusion at your strange method. “Sunscreen? Are we going to the beach?”

“God, I hope not. I didn’t think to pack a swimsuit.” You roll your eyes while slathering the cream on your forehead, cheeks, down your neck, and even strangely over your ears before rubbing the rest on the back of your hands.

Hands tightening on the steering wheel, Hotch clears his throat. “I didn’t expect you to be so invested in your skin health.”

“It’s called skincare, Hotch,” you tease, screwing the cap back on but suspiciously leaving it out on your lap. “And it’s important to take care of your skin. Did you know that snow reflects UV rays, so even during winter you should put on sunscreen?”

Hotch chuckles before he could stop himself. “You’re starting to sound like Reid.”

“Did you want some?” You’re twisting your body again to face Hotch, eyes sparkling despite it being horribly dreary and cloudy outside.

The only times Hotch has worn sunscreen was during especially hot summer days when he took Jack to the park or to go swimming. He’s seen you apply sunscreen in the office even when it was raining outside and the sun wasn’t forecasted to come out that day. He’s grown to learn not to ask questions.

“I’m okay, thanks.” The answer’s immediate, partly because he doesn’t need sunscreen and partly because he is concentrating on not crashing into a ditch.

“Come on, Hotch, it’s good for you!” He knows this is exactly the same thing you said on the jet several weeks ago, and since then, every time you’re putting on lotion and he’s somewhere in the near vicinity, you’re already squeezing some on his hands before he could respectfully decline. Luckily, you haven’t tried to apply it for him again.

You’re incredibly stubborn and Hotch wonders if you’re persuading the rest of the team to invest in expensive and fruity-smelling creams in an effort to have everyone properly take care of their bodies like you are with him.

“Alright.” And then he’s pulling his foot off the gas pedal just a bit to compensate for the distraction of having to put his hand out, desperately hoping you’re not going to lean over to apply it to his own face.

You luckily don’t squeal in excitement like he expected, just silently squirting the cream into careful and meticulous lines on his three fingers. Hotch can tell it’s definitely more of an expensive brand than what he was used to during the summer—lightweight and smelling like nothing.

Hotch carefully slathers it onto his face, starting at his forehead, down his nose, and then out to his cheeks and his chin. There’s still quite a lot left on his fingers and he remembers how you made sure to spread some on your neck, so Hotch does the same thing. However, he is definitely not going to put some on his ears.

Satisfied, you put the sunscreen away and twist as best as you could underneath your thick layers to put your bag in the backseat, because the floor of the car was too wet from the snow from your shoes.

“Happy?” Hotch’s face inexplicably feels greasier than he would like, but it’s not as bad as the vanilla-scented lotion or the cheap sunscreen laying forgotten in his closet. It’s already absorbed into his skin and when he rubs a hand along his jaw, he realizes that it must have had some moisturizer in it as well because his face feels softer than he was used to.

“Ecstatic,” you say, turning your face towards the window to hide the wide grin spreading across your face.

four.

The fourth time Hotch learns about skincare from you was completely and utterly by accident.

It had been a long and brutal couple of days chasing a serial in Tennessee, one that had nearly as much technological experience as Garcia. He had been two steps ahead of them until tonight, when they had finally caught a break and caught him before he could take any more women to hold hostage.

The all-consuming relief was palpable during dinner at the hotel restaurant despite the underlying knowledge that the same thing was going to happen next week. Conversation flowed, drinks were had, and Hotch was adamantly ignoring the fleeting looks you were throwing his way across the table.

Hotch and you had been dancing around each other for months, tension so tangible that the rest of the team were starting to feel uncomfortable. He’s been able to brush off Dave’s sly remarks in the privacy of his office, Morgan and Emily’s raised eyebrows tossed in his direction at every interaction he had with you, and Garcia’s elbow jabs at every possible second when you were in the room.

It's been frustrating for him, to say the least. He can’t tell them that he can’t make that choice for you, that he’s too conscious to not cross any of those professional boundaries himself. If that means that Hotch has to wait for several more months for you to make the first move, if that even happens, then so be it.

When Hotch watches the way you throw your head back in laughter at something Dave says at dinner, eyes bright and face slightly flushed from the wine, he thinks he’d be willing to wait as long as you wanted.

After being nearly kicked out of the restaurant from being too rowdy and Hotch hinting at being able to take the rest of tomorrow off once they fly back in town early, the team quietly shuffles back to their respective rooms. He knows there’s about a 50/50 chance that most of them will sneak out to a nearby bar in ten minutes, but at least he warned them ahead of time.

“Night, Hotch,” you had said, giving him a little smile and wave before your door across the hallway clicked shut.

Something warm settled in Hotch’s chest at that, so he did the most reasonable thing to cope with the unfamiliar and turned the TV on to a random news channel. With the volume on low and his laptop and files laid out on the rickety table, he got to work.

Several hours pass like that as he throws himself into the fine print, going over everyone’s action reports from last week and shuffling through old crime photos to make sure everything matched. It was a familiar process, and almost concerning with how much comfort he’s found in it—the scratch of his pen, the drone of the city several floors down, and the growing smudge of ink on his hand from his thoughts running faster than he could write.

When he gets to your report and notices it’s missing several key points of the case, as well as your loopy signature, he frowns.

The immediate thought that comes to mind would be to just put the file aside and move onto the other one. It wasn’t as if the report was due this second and he knows there were plenty of others that required more immediate attention.

The other thought that emerges, almost reluctantly, was that Hotch could easily go across the hallway and ask you to take a look at it and finish the report rather than waiting for the following morning on the jet when the rest of the team was undoubtedly going to be hungover. Prentiss was most certainly going to be cranky and demand everyone to be quiet because the hum of the jet was already grating enough. He’d just be doing the team a favor.

That’s what Hotch tells himself as he stands up from the low desk, neck and back aching, and makes his way out his room and to yours across the hall.

He briefly pauses, straining his ears as if he could hear anything through the door and over the erratic thumping of his own heart. Hotch is suddenly aware that you may be sleeping, or even out with the rest of the ladies to a sleazy bar, and he’s about to turn back around with defeat weighing heavy on his shoulders when he hears the click of the bathroom door open and your humming, faint even through the thick wooden door.

Feeling confident that he’s not disturbing you and something else Hotch can’t name at the fact that he’s going to be seeing you in the privacy of your hotel room, he raps twice against the door.

“Just a second!” And then the door swings open.

Hotch’s attention is immediately caught by the fluffy headband you’re wearing, light pink and with a comically large bow in the center. You’ve clearly just gotten out of the shower, the scent of your body wash infiltrating Hotch’s senses and causing him to tighten his grip on the files he forgot he was holding in the first place.

You’re wearing a matching set of light blue pajamas, short and clinging to your body in a way that has Hotch immediately tearing his gaze away and back to your bare face. Your lips are glossy, slicker than normal, there’s a drop of water slowly trailing down the side of your neck, and a dab of cream on your cheek that you seem to have not noticed.

“Hotch?” you ask, confused, before letting out a squeak and crossing your arms over your chest in an effort to hide your modesty. Hotch ignores the fact that it just makes everything worse. “Is everything okay? Don’t tell me there’s a case.”

The droplet of water has disappeared underneath the collar of your shirt and the scent of vanilla nearly suffocates him. “No case. Just needed to get your final touches and signature on this report.”

He hopes his voice doesn’t sound as strained to you as it does to him as he remembers why he was standing in your hotel doorway in the first place, the files in his hand suddenly weighing like a ton.

You don’t seem to notice anything wrong, if anything, a slow smile spreads across your face that has Hotch’s stomach flipping.

You look radiant, the intimacy of being near you in your pajamas when you were clearly in the middle of your nighttime routine not going unnoticed. He peers over the top of your head to notice your go bag on your bed, clothes and your personal laptop strewn all over the comforter, and the TV being tuned to what you’d call an “entertaining yet trashy show.”

“You’re still working even though you’re the one who suggested having an early night? It’s late.”

Hotch blinks at you because what else would he have done if not attempt to catch up on the seemingly never-ending pile of papers and reports? “You’re still up late too.”

You roll your eyes. “I was just about to go to bed before you knocked, so technically I have better work-life boundaries than you.”

“Do you want me to come back tomorrow?”

You study him—still wearing his suit sans the jacket, tie only slightly loosened and sleeves rolled up his forearms. He hadn’t even bothered to put his shoes back on, comfortable enough with the hotel’s reputation to be in his room and take the two steps across the carpeted hallway in his socks.

“As long as you make it fast.” And then you’re stepping aside and opening the door further, the sweetness of the vanilla nearly pulling Hotch in.

Except he’s somehow distracted by the dollop of cream still on your cheek, right underneath your eye. Witnessing first-hand the twinkling of your eyes as you glance up at him and the way your pink headband has your hair pushed back, baring the most of your face he’s ever seen, has him sidetracked.

“You have a little…” He motions to his own face, hoping that you will take the hint.

And you don’t, not exactly, because of course you don’t. You immediately swipe at your face but on the wrong cheek and stare down at your hand when you don’t catch anything. “What?”

Hotch is a problem-solver, meticulous, and always thinks things through. That’s his job, to always be two steps ahead of anyone and everyone. So he’s not sure how or why he’s suddenly reaching a hand out to swipe at the cream on your face with his thumb, his touch lingering on the warmth of your cheek.

Whatever Hotch was going to say dies in his throat at the very audible hitch of your breath, the way your eyes widen at his close proximity. Your skin is smooth, softer than anything he’s ever felt, and he ignores the way you’re staring into him as he pulls back and absentmindedly rubs the moisturizer in the palm of his other hand. If he tries hard enough, the cream on his own skin nearly replicates the feeling of yours.

He's about to clear his throat to apologize, maybe even mention something about how the report can technically wait until tomorrow and turn right on his heel back into his room to ignore the adamant weight pressing down on his chest, when your expression changes.

Something almost akin to smugness tugs at the corners of your lips, the shininess inexplicably different and more distracting than your usual lipstick. Your bright eyes dance with amusement before your arms fall from where they were crossed on your chest to your sides.

“You know, I’m wearing a lip mask right now if you want some of that too.”

“Excuse me?”

If possible, your grin widens, causing Hotch to internally deny that he was suddenly feeling breathless. “I use a lip mask every night. They just make them look so kissable, right?”

Something in Hotch snaps, because if that wasn’t a clear invitation, he doesn’t know what is.

When he finally steps into your room, closing the door behind him, you’re slowly backing up until you’re pressed up against the nearest wall with that infuriating grin on your face.

You’re playing with him, you’ve been playing with him, but he doesn’t care and can’t even think about that when you’re peering up at him with soft eyes.

When Hotch brings a hand up to cradle your cheek, he thinks his stomach nearly twists itself into a knot at the immediate way you lean into him and the way your eyes flutter shut.

When he finally kisses you, he can smell the sweetness of the raspberry lip mask before he tastes it, seamlessly blending in with your vanilla body wash and making him feel more drunk than he’s felt in a long time.

You place your hands on his chest, your warmth seeping through the fabric of his shirt, and something about touching him has you unconsciously parting your lips to deepen the kiss, causing the smell of raspberry to become stronger.

Hotch can immediately feel the stickiness of your mask on his mouth, and he’s tempted to pull away at the unfamiliarity of something on his lips, but then you’re sighing into him and his hands are suddenly on your waist where the bottom of your pajama top has barely lifted. The warmth of your skin was intoxicating.

You have to be the first one to break the kiss, and when Hotch opens his eyes, you’re staring at him, your smirk having morphed into a smile of disbelief. His eyes flit to the almost imperceptible smear of gloss at the corner of your mouth.

“You have a little…” You trail off, your eyes drifting to his own lips, your smile doing nothing to calm the erratic rhythm Hotch’s heart has taken.

Hotch wonders how much you had put on yourself because the amount that he can feel on his lips makes him immediately want to swipe at his mouth. But that would mean having to take his hands off of you and he doesn’t think he has the willpower for that.

Instead, he rubs his lips together in an effort to spread the tackiness equally over his lips before he says “I like it, but I don’t think I got enough.”

You huff a laugh at that, your fingers tightening from where they’re gripping the lapels of his dress shirt. “I think I can help you with that.”

five.

“Are you okay in there?”

“Just five more minutes, I promise!”

That’s what you had said ten minutes ago. It’s not like Hotch is impatient per se, just content that you had agreed to sleep over again after another late date night and there wasn’t a looming case coming up.

You had only slept over one other time when the team had gotten back from a case late and Hotch wasn’t going to let you drive yourself home when you could barely keep yourself standing. You had dozed off the entire car ride home, head leaning against the window which caused Hotch to adamantly avoid all the potholes and tight turns, and yet you still managed to do your skincare routine in his ensuite bathroom before coming to bed.

After that night in your hotel room, you’ve become bolder. You’re now sitting next to Hotch on the jet, you make your way up to his office when there were still plenty of people milling about in the bullpen, and the way you peer up at him through your eyelashes during case briefings has him itching for a cold shower.

Neither have you said anything to the rest of the team, but at this point, Hotch doesn’t think he has to with the way both Dave and Morgan have patted him on the back the day after you laughed at something Emily had said and leaned against him, leaving his shoulder thrumming from your warmth for the next hour.

Another five minutes pass and Hotch can still hear the clinking of your serums as you rummage through your cosmetics bag. He silently sets aside his phone to get up from his extremely comfortable spot in the bed to pad his way over to the bathroom.

The sight that greets him has Hotch’s stomach plummeting all over again.

You’re sporting that same headband with the pink bow again, however this time, you’re wearing one of his old academy shirts that had mysteriously gone missing from his dresser several weeks ago. You’re freshly showered and you’re holding onto some kind of strangely shaped metallic instrument that you’re scraping over your cheekbones and then down your neck. The way it drags over your skin has Hotch cringing sympathetically.

You immediately spot him, meeting his gaze through the mirror, and the way your eyes immediately light up has a small smile forming on Hotch’s face before he can help it. “Hey you.”

“Hey.” Hotch leans against the doorway, content to watch the clearly practiced movements of you rubbing your skin with this strange contraption. “It’s been over five minutes.”

You pout. “Sorry, I’ve been holding this off all week and I need to do it tonight.”

Hotch was sure that “need” was a strong word, but he doesn’t question it. He stopped questioning your thorough skincare routine months ago.

And then you turn to him, something mischievous tugging at your glossy lips. “Wanna try it?”

Apprehension thuds in his chest, but he takes a step forward into the glow of the bathroom anyway. “And what is it exactly?”

Detecting your hesitation a mile away, you give him a warm smile as you hold it up to him. “It’s called a gua sha. It’s supposed to help with blood flow and getting rid of toxins and all that.”

Hotch may not be a beauty or skincare expert, but he has doubts that this piece of metal can actually do all of those things. To be fair, he’s had quite a few doubts about most of the items you use and not so subtly make him try.

The delight painted clear on your face though has Hotch tucking those thoughts away. He’s sure he has no right to question one’s own method on how to relax.

“Okay.”

You immediately muffle a squeal and turn to grab some other serum you left out on the sink, a light gold swimming around in the bottle.

“I’ll only do half of your face, I promise.” You squeeze some of the mysterious liquid on your hands and reach up to pat the left side of his face.

It’s thicker than your usual products, most likely some kind of oil that smells like roses, but the heat from your hand and your close proximity has Hotch feeling inexplicably warm all over.

“Okay, now you just use this side to run up your cheekbone like this.” You demonstrate for him and he adamantly makes note of the light pressure you’re using. “And then you run it down your face and down your neck.”

When he attempts to copy your movements with the warm metal, he doesn’t notice any difference in how his skin feels or the blood flow in his face, but you’re studying him so closely that Hotch is tempted to say he does.

It’s a strange sensation, but honestly it doesn’t feel any different than if he used his own fingers to rub up against his cheekbone or jawline.

When he puts the piece of metal back in your open palm, you’re nearly teeming with excitement. “So, what do you think?”

He pauses. “I don’t think it’s for me, sweetheart.”

You pout but he can tell that you’re not offended. “Boo. Fine, I’ll meet you in bed, handsome.”

Hotch is about to turn back to go to bed before he remembers the thick oil covering half of his face, evenly dispersed but still uncomfortable and will surely stain his pillowcase. He attempts to discreetly wipe at it with his hand as best as he can before quickly rubbing it off on your arm and escaping.

The screech you let out echoes in his bathroom as you try to swat at him and narrowly miss, and the way he feels heat tinge at the tip of his ears is better than any metallic contraption’s claim to improve blood flow.

On his days off, Hotch much prefers spending as much time as he can at home, either with Jack, you, or, more recently, both. Even if Hotch technically sees you every day in the bullpen, you at work is much different than the you at home.

Or at least, he likes to think there’s a difference as you drag him to the grocery store during what was possibly the quietest afternoon he’s had in several months.

I just have to pick up a couple of things, you had said as you buckle your seatbelt in the passenger side. We’ll be back home in a jiffy.

Never mind the fact that the word home coming from your lips has Hotch’s mind reeling. You’ve been seeing each other for several months now and he’s almost sure that you haven’t stepped foot in your own apartment for at least a month. You’ve taken up half of his dresser, most of his closet space, and the entirety of the counter space in the bathroom with your multi-colored serums and skincare tools that don’t work no matter what you claim.

He follows you around the store, dutifully pushing the grocery cart, as you mentally go through your checklist on all the toiletries you’re almost out of. Which is why he finds himself in the cosmetics aisle when you exclaim “Oh, I forgot about tomatoes for taco Tuesday!” and scamper off before he could say there were plenty of tomatoes from last time in the fridge because Jack has suddenly decided he doesn’t like them anymore.

He's content to wait, maybe check his emails on his phone, when he spots the familiar label of his face wash out of the corner of his eye.

It’s a brand that Haley had recommended for him when they were in college and Hotch knew absolutely nothing about skincare then, so he just continued buying it. He’s gone through countless bottles over the years, having used it nearly every day, yet Hotch finds himself frowning as he stares at the bright orange bottle.

The large bold letters advertise the cleanser being able to effectively combat oiliness, but Hotch distinctly remembers you offhandedly mentioning how lucky he was to have dry skin and not a combination like you.

Honestly, he had no idea, but it would make sense with how you were constantly slathering him in lotions and creams any chance you got.

He browses through the available cleansers, keeping an eye out for those that treat dry skin, when you sidle up next to him with a bag of tomatoes that were undoubtedly not going to get eaten. He can hear the hesitation in your voice when you ask “What are you doing?”

“Looking for something different.”

“Oh yeah? I knew I was wearing you down, Hotchner. Soon, you’re going to be begging me to take you to Sephora.” You’re joking but Hotch can detect the underlying seriousness in your voice.

He continues as if he didn’t hear you. “I’ve been using the wrong face wash for my skin so I’m looking for a different one. I probably haven’t been doing my skin any favors all these years.”

A pause. And then, incredulously, you say “Who taught you that?”

Finding one that was a good size and affordable enough to try, Hotch grabs it and throws it into the cart. When he meets your eyes, you’re staring up at him with a disbelieving smile.

“You did.” And it’s true—Hotch would’ve never thought about the long-term benefits of having a humidifier in the bedroom or the importance of sunscreen everyday if it weren’t for you. Taking care of your appearance was clearly important to you, which meant it was now important to him.

You stare at him, lips parted as if you’re at a loss for words. Your skin is glowing even under the harsh fluorescent grocery store lighting. “You’re such a sweet talker, you know that?”

You toss the tomatoes in the cart, making him wince, and loop your arm through his to tug him along the aisle. You smell sugary sweet with maybe a hint of his cologne from where you had slept in one of his old shirts last night. Hotch remembers how he had felt lightheaded, fondness flooding his chest, when he woke to you laying on his chest this morning. He tugs you closer into his side.

“Does this mean that you’ll try that new light therapy mask that I bought?”

“One step at a time, honey.”

taglist <3 @kiwriteswords @solardrop @knitmeatardis @mggslover @maeintree @pastelpinkflowerlife @storiesofsvu @actualdeemon

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x reader fluff #aaron hotchner x y/n #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner fanfic #hotch x reader #aaron hotchner imagine #mine #aaron hotchner

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cyber333angel · 2 days ago

Text

TOXIC-EX!ABBY ANDERSON X SWEETHEART!READER

a/n : there is plot to this but we lose it very quickly due to smutty yap i fear, soo much longer than usual, abby is very much of a meanie in this, some manipulation and a dash of hair pulling.. enjoy!

it was was time to get over her. you decided after weeks of crying over your now ex girlfriend it was time to move on, you knew abby wasn’t sitting around crying over the relationship so why should you? you saw peoples stories, abby drinking at parties and already flirting with a bunch of other girls so it was no use to cry over someone who wasn’t even thinking about you.

a friend of yours had invited you out to go to some frat house that lived near your campus to cheer you up but all you could think about was abby. abby always took you to parties that her hockey jock friends threw, abby was the one who had you sat on her lap while she made you take long swigs of her beer that she knew you didn’t like and abby was always teasing you in front of her friends with all her comments about how she had you screaming just last night. but you were going there to get your mind off her not to think of her, so you shoo’ed those thoughts away as you made it to the party with a plastered smile on your face.

so far it had been going good, you had a drink in your hand as you swayed faintly to the rowdy music playing on the speakers and you talked to a friend you knew, having the most fun you’d had in weeks.

all to be ruined when your eyes turn to see the woman you were trying to heal from this whole time, walking in with her arms on the shoulders of some girl. laughing as someone hands her a cup of beer, you really didn’t want to ruin the vibe, didn’t want to get upset. so your eyes flicker away from the scene, hiding amongst the crowd of your friends and talking to take your mind off of it.

but even for such a large house the place felt so small, everywhere you went abby was there, being obnoxious and showing off. it’s something you always complained about when the two of you were together and she would always wave it off, taking your mind off of it in a random bathroom with her fingers stuffed up your dress and her hands clasped at your mouth. you needed some space to breath so you walked up the stairs of the house to find a bathroom or just a empty space to breathe in. you found a room that’s decorated and fitted for a frat guy but it will do. you go to sit down on the bed, sitting with your cup as you played with the fabric of your dress. just breathing as you listen to the sound of the music and the bustling conversations of the people below you.

you were just sobering up when abby saw you sitting there on the bed, still cute as ever with the same sheepish behavior. she sees you before you see her, and she missed teasing you oh so much. you sigh when your eyes connect to hers and the woman of the hour is already looking at you with a conniving grin.

you roll your eyes as you get up to leave when abby finishes talking to whoever she was entertaining and walks into the bedroom, closing the door behind her. “you’ve been avoiding me all night baby what happened?” that nickname was all that was needed to piss your off further, “im not your baby, don’t call me that. please move i need to leave.” referring to the door that abby was currently blocking and not making any effort to move from.

“you know I miss you..been thinking about you ever since you left, you know im sorry.” this was not what you needed to hear tonight, not right now while only on the verge of sobering up and getting over her. you knew exactly what she was up to, abby would always talk to you in that sweet tone when she wanted something from you and you would fall for it every time. it’s exactly why you found the courage to finally leave when you did. “that’s what you always say abby, I left because I was tired of forgiving you over and over.” you say shaking your head, stepping back when you hear abby walk closer to you, all the space in the seemingly large room running away from you as you bump into the bed and abby holds you close.

“just one more chance hm? promise ill be good for you sweet girl.” her body guards you fully, she must have started working out even more since you left, her arms were so massive looking. the proximity was forcing you to take in her intoxicating scent and become drunk all over again. even though you wont admit it, you missed the scent of abby, it was always what you needed after hard day and coming home to lay on her was all you needed. “abby..” you use your last (but weak) attempt to not give in, pushing your head away from her with a whine. “missed this pretty face.. give me one kiss yeah?” she says hooking a finger under your jaw, making you look up at her, smiling when you meet her eyes. “there she is, i know you missed this too mama..” she says, her hands finding the globes of your ass as she lowers her head down to yours.

she kisses you so softly at first, sucking at fat of your lips keenly and with gentle hesitation, but it was clearly an act when she starts kissing you more and more roughly. sliding her tongue deeper down your throat and moving her hand to your waist with the other hand to your neck just to taste you deeper. you automatically melt into abbys hold, months of trying to forget her all down the drain while you take in what you missed so much. “let’s move to the bed kay?” and you nod slightly into her chest, smiling when she lifts you and has you sitting on her lap while she sits on the bed. “arms up.” you don’t falter to raise your arms up, letting abby lift up your shirt and leave you in your bra, letting her take control.

she kisses the skin of your breast that’s spilling out of your bra, warm hands holding your waist close to hers. “missed these too..” and she manages to make you laugh like she used to, “abby!” you say as she bounces her right leg under you. “i can try something else right angel? wanna make you feel good..” and at this point you can’t even think of denying her so you nod, letting abby handle you and move you to the spot in between the pillows of the bed. laying you down with her body in front of your closed legs, peeling them open with her arms as you attempt to hide in the fabric of your shirt, watching her from above. she just handles you so naturally that everything was done without words, tapping your hips with her fingers meaning for you to lift your hips so she could slide your panties off, not so subtlety putting them in her pocket.

now your all spread out for her, already damp from the kissing as your legs fidget over the bed. “anyone else been between these legs since I was gone, try to please you like I can?” you wouldn’t do that t’me would you baby?” she’s acting possessive already and you only just went back to her, but you could care less with how good you knew you were about to feel. you shake your head no quickly as you look at her with needy eyes, “didnt see anyone else abs..only you.” you were completely under her spell and she hadn’t even touched you yet, placing her hand under your chin to smooth her thumb over your cheek, smiling down at you.

“yeah i know you’re my good girl, could never find someone to make this pretty pussy feel good like I do huh?” she whispers, tilting her head to the side as her hand travels down to your cunt, sliding them over your glossy bud slowly. in this moment you wouldn’t think abby could ever be mean, she had the most beautiful smile looking down at you while she pushed the tip of her fingers into your hole, teasing them in and out as your stomach tensed. “you know you have to be quiet right? walls aren’t that thick here and you know how you get..”

but there it was, the mean girl you had forgotten about suddenly making your mind all anxious, because you do know how you get when abby has her hands on you. you let her lay you down with her sweet words and promises without thinking. when your with abby you could never keep your voice down, weather it was your broken moans or pants her hands could never hold them in. and there was a whole crowd of people below you maybe you should take a pause on this, “mm wait abs..” you whine, a nervous croak leaving your throat.

her fingers slide in deeper into you as you writhe, back arching off the bed a bit as you feel her two large fingers stretching at your hole. “you know it’s too late for that, look at how wet you are..” her whispers getting quieter as she dips her head to your lips, kissing you with her fingers prodding so snuggly at your walls. her other hand trails along your body, pinching at your nipples all the way to the back of your head, supporting it so you could reach closer to her.

mewling when you feel a harsh pull at the back of your head, whining into abbys mouth as you hands fly to hers. of course she wasn’t pulling your hair that hard, just enough to alarm you and make you pay attention to what she had to say. “you love me right baby? hm, need you to say it for me..” she sounded desperate almost, a pouted look on her face as her fingers sped up. a third finger prodding at the two already twisting and turning inside you, you could almost cry. “mn lo-love..” you really couldn’t focus with her pressuring you like this, every immanent thing in the room zeroing into your mind. the darkness of the room along with the blue led lights that lit it up, the perfect scene with the music bumping below you and of course abby.

you get pulled back when abby stops kissing at your skin, her breast stop resting against yours as she props herself up. feeling a harsher pull on your hair and the loss of her soaked fingers in your needy cunt. “need you to speak up mama. you love what? love my fingers or my tongue, what is it?” demanding you to speak, and making you so needy for her fingers to be back inside you it’s like you could almost say you did love her fingers. “no i love you abby! love you s-so much..”

god could she get inside your head, you were too busy cumming all over fingers to even notice the smile on her face. “i know you do baby..missed this pretty pussy too..” your hips shook against the bed, grabbing at anything you could get your hands on in the moment. the comforter, the pillows, abbys biceps, she was still thrusting her fingers into you with her thumb circling at your sensitive clit. “oh i know, my good girl is feeling so good huh?”

abby had pulled a good two other orgasms out of you that night, one with her rubbing her pussy against yours and the other with her mouth. she probably could have got more if the two of you weren’t interrupted by a knock on the door, apparently the party was about to be over and you had made such a mess all over a bed that wasn’t even yours, you were mortified to say the least. she teased you about it for a whole week and it made you so embarrassed everytime, always bringing up the look on your face when you heard the bang on the door while she was snickering. though the mission of getting over abby failed, you got your girlfriend back and you couldn’t be happier.

#abby x reader <3 #abby tlou smut #abby smut #abby x fem!reader #abby the last of us #tlou smut #abby tlou #abby x reader #abby anderson #tlou part 2 #this fuckass ending #I do nawt like how this came out

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ask-postcrash-curly · 3 days ago

Note

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0E4haJHYUJw

sorry can s.omeone please helpme please and quicker this time its worse sorry thankyou justneed it to stop fast please, i am quite afraid its fucking fireworks isnt even thesaem thing that happened to me,and itsnot real why does ithurt that s so pointless im sick of it im nevergoing to be able to be a person again if i have a panic ove r eveyrthing i nwant to go home soon now

pleasmake it turn off fast thank you love you help im scared

supposed to be strong this isso stupid hahaha. ow ow ow ow

cananyone haer me. pleas em ake it turn off cant do this one forso long its makingme panic every time oneofthem goes off haha it doesnt even soundthe same it was muchlouder when iitreally happened

what if the asteroid goes into a star a sun and idont die because im not allowed ever and i ahve to beo nfire forever!! that would be bad i don t want that . oh my god what the fuck am i talking about. maybe i shoudl just scream really loud and then jimmy will come and maybe he'll hit me hard enough to make itstop

no hah okay nope im not goingt o do that . thatss not a good plam at all! then iwould probably cry and he owudl hitme more!! cheers!!!!!!!! hahaha

are any of you there i want it to stop fast please. please can the time delay things not work this time idont want to wait that long .

nooo no it's fine i mean cmon the only reason that it took so long last time's because oft hhe dleays and then all the good videos came at once and it was good theyll . theyre not going to ignore me its okay that will not happen. oh god but i cant wait that long not again pleasecan you break the itme delya this time i dont want to i dont want to do this anymore

i migth start screming by accdint . i dont want to do that i t will make anya upset and jhimmy wuill be angyr and. i dont want him to be angry he might . be agnry. whyis eveyrone angyr with me all thetime i dont try to be frustrating i dont i reallydont . i dont want to be by myself anymore can you please. the rescueline disconnceted and no one can do anything to helpme please acn soemhone help me befroe i make it worse and scream haha oh mygod no i was wrong its the same its the same the sound is different but the way the colors burst across youreyelids when you shut themisthe same and tehn you cant shut them anymore and it hurts it hurts andeverything is white and then its red and youcant even scream youcant move and its just burnign and it takestoo long to pass out why did it take so long i felt evyrting it ev en when iw asnt awake i oculd feel it burnign

and i think i think he left me in there on purpose i think hewanted to make sure i coldnt get better i think he wanted to hurt me i htink he was angyr stilll about the firing an waht i sadi in the cockpit afterhis eval i think maybe thats why he hates me now i didnt i didnt know jimmy i wouldnthave said that if iknew why are you angry i wanted. to help why would you hurther jim she didnt do anytihng to you why would you why would you hurt her why would you hurt me wgy do you keep hurting me. idont ressist anymore so youdont have to push so hard dont have to reach sofar why do you . you want to hurt me yeah? you want to and itsnot because ofanything but you and me. jimmy anya soembdoy cann you make the fireworks go away for me please i will be better

please can aynoe hear me im sc ared im so scared i dont want to beon fire agian it hurt so much and wheni. woke up i couldnt stop screaming . i ocudnt stop im going tos cream aagain and hes going to hit me but nope he wont kill me he wont knock me out because i have to feel it i have to feel veyrthing all the time i cant even sleep!!! that woudl be too peaceful and i dont get to have it peaceful no no no!!!!!!! not allowed for curlly to hvave peaceful i have to be feleing all of it

i onyl had two days i only had two days iwanted to help but i was scared ishouldntmake excuses im sorry nevermind nevermind im sorry anyaimsory shoudnthave been you never you never anybody else i shoudlvedonesomething i shoudlve let us both die whenwe werekids ojgod no no i cantwant him todie hewas. my firned no no no he hurtssherbieng selfish why did i tell them why did i let her tell him why did i let him go in there why did i go in there

i wish it had killed me then it woudlnt stil hurt its been so so so so long forever humanbody isnt supposed to fele this way for so long icant do it anymore iwish they ddint all ahte me s omuch i dindt crash thesip i didnt do it i didnt i neverwouldve done it whyd theybleve you so easilyi am i thiat easy to, did anyoen ever likeme or did they all feel the same as you jimmy is that why. deado pixels everywehr theye all dead pixels and i ahve to bealive its not fair no no haha it is fair this is this is what happens when you dont do anythign now you dont get to!!!!!!cant fix anythuing no matere how muchyou want toooo

cant do anything ever and iut always hurts and shes aways crying andhe doesnt smile anymore and i dont seehim naymore hes drinnkinghismelf to death and none fo them aluagh they used to laugh i miss mmy parents i miss closing my eyes i miss when thinsgs were soft andpeople hugged me evenif it was just pretend and they didnt care i could believe it sometimes and it didnthurt

i wanna go home

i wnana go to sleep

im reallyscared that im going to scream soon not onpurpose

can anybody hear or amitalkingto nothing . can anyeone hear me? icanrt. see anything exceot, the

hah ha am i tlaking too much . i think i am . why would you give this to me. youknow it would hurt me . why does eveyrone liek to hurt me am i that awful or is it that fun . ah hahaha. it jus. it kepe s on going. ahahahaahaha. and anotheranotther anohter another another!!!! is htis because i c omplaiend about the fireare youmad at me because iwouldnt stop saying it overand over wouldnt shut up god it's so annoyign haha right thats it yeah? youask ove and over and nothing chagnes so you have to stop before you get hurt because therse a reaseono they dont listen and if you keep asking againanda again and again forever theyll make you pay.

im soryr ill. be quiet

youdont have to make it go away this time , i can. deal with itthis time until it ends if you dont do it agian. could we make that deal, is that all right can we

amibeing punished

i think i am

or maybe not . only persons get punished im not a perosn im a toy i think . thats it thats all it is anymore and hwen a toy breaks you break it moreandmoreandmore and thneyou throw itawya into the incinerator to burn forever yeah?

everyneos going to go away. whoeven cares right? got thier own lives. own worlds other worlds better worlds. better world where im gone!!! got real friends haha got reaaal families real sons. and the firworks keeo going and eveyrone goes away!!! boom boom boom thats anotehr oen gone. jsut me just me all by mysefl in th empty

oh no no no

no no nonoonnononononono im cryingnow i need to stop no ones in here and if he hears me he might

please imsorry if anyones still there please hlep i acnt stop hes going to hear me pleaseimscared

#mouthwashing #captain curly #curly mouthwashing #curlyposting #'hey so why did you do this' i dont even know. it happened. now its here.#jimmy mouthwashing #anya mouthwashing

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spencessocks · 1 day ago

Note

bucky AND spencer??!!! are you my brain? my brain has a tumblr? but seriously im so happy you exist.

i was originally coming to say how in ‘through the silence’ the theme and the conversation could be the same (okay maybe just similar) with post prison spencer x reader and how he is trying to get back to reality and leave prison behind

love you xx

a/n: omfg what... im literally going to eat ur face... this sort of got a little longer than i intended and it took me a while because i was busy with work so im sorry!😭😭 but thank u so much omg i was reeling from this ask, ur so sweet and ilysm!!!

what remains

summary: after spencer returns from prison, the trauma he endured drives a wedge between him and the one person who loves him most.

pairing: postprison!spencer reid x reader

wordcount: 6.8k

warnings: sad spencer, sad reader, everyones sad, reader drinks like a sip of wine

the apartment is quiet when spencer walks in. it’s late—again. you don’t know where he goes, but he never offers, and you’ve stopped asking.

he drops his keys onto the counter with a dull clink, his shoulders heavy with exhaustion, and you watch from your place on the couch, heart aching at the sight of him. he looks different now. he's been home for months, but the man who walked through your door after prison isn’t the same one who left.

“hey,” you say gently, closing your book and setting it aside.

he glances at you but doesn’t hold your gaze for long. “hey.”

you swallow down the lump in your throat. “did you eat?”

“i'm not hungry.” his answer is clipped, automatic, the same response he’s given you almost every night since he’s been back.

you knew it wouldn’t be easy. that things would be different and he wouldn’t be the same. you had told yourself that over and over in the days leading up to his return, had braced yourself for the changes.

but you'd had hope—hope that, with time, things would settle. that he would come back to you—not just physically, but in the ways that mattered. that he would find his way back to the man he used to be, the man who used to curl up beside you on the couch, rambling about his latest case or a book he was reading. the man who used to laugh, used to smile, used to pull you into his arms like you were the safest place in the world.

but you had underestimated the impression this whole ordeal would leave on him.

it wasn't just in the way he carried himself, the way exhaustion clung to his frame or how the light in his eyes had dimmed. it was deeper than that. it was in the way he recoiled from touch when he used to seek it, in the way his voice lacked the excitement and curiosity it once held. in the distance that stretched between you, widening a little more each day, despite your best efforts to close it.

prison had carved something out of him, something you weren’t sure could ever be replaced. he had been home for months, but a harsh reality was starting to settle in you—that some wounds don’t heal the way you expect them to. some stay raw, lingering beneath the surface, invisible until they make themselves known in quiet moments—in the silence at the dinner table, in the way he avoids your gaze, in the way he flinches at your touch, in the walls he keeps building no matter how hard you try to tear them down.

he didn’t talk about what happened in there, and you didn’t press—even if sometimes curiosity clawed at you. but every laconic response, every empty stare, every night he disappeared without explanation told you more than words ever could. he was still there, trapped in a place you couldn’t seem to reach, and no matter how badly you wanted to, you weren’t sure you ever would.

you exhale slowly, measuring your words before speaking. "spencer, you know what i'm going to say." your voice is soft, careful, but it still makes him flinch, just barely.

"i'm fine," he mutters, turning away from you.

you hesitate, just for a moment, before the words slip out. a quiet, almost embarrassed whisper in the stillness of the room.

"will you at least sit with me for a little while?"

you regret the question the second it leaves your mouth, second-guessing yourself as soon as the vulnerability hits you. it sounds so small, so simple—sit with me, like it’s not asking for much, but in a way, it feels like you’re begging. you feel humiliation crawl up your neck.

"we don't have to talk," you add quickly, trying to soften the weight of your words. "we can just—"

"i'm tired," he interrupts, voice hollow. he’s already moving toward the bedroom, like he can't get away fast enough.

you stare blanky at him, his back already turned to you. you don't say anything. you can't. the words get stuck somewhere in your throat, tangled up with the shock and the sting of his dismissal. you just sit there, still as stone, the weight of his words settling over you like a thick, suffocating fog.

it shouldn't surprise you—this response, this distance, the way he shuts you out without a second thought. it’s been happening for weeks now, a slow unraveling of something that once felt unbreakable. and yet, it does surprise you.

because you still hoped—that he would just sit with you. that it couldn't possibly be that bad that your own husband couldn't sit on the the same goddamn couch as you.

you don’t know if your lack of response matters. maybe it does. maybe that’s why he hesitates in the doorway, fingers gripping the frame as if he's weighing his options. for a second, you think he might turn around, might give you something—anything. but then, just as quickly, he lets go and disappears into the darkness of the bedroom.

you sit there, motionless, as the door to the bedroom clicks shut behind him. the sound feels final, sharp.

the interaction plays in your head. "i'm tired."

the look on his face—or the lack of one. there’s nothing there. no fight, no frustration, not even the faintest trace of a desire to make things right.

you blink, once, twice, trying to shake the fog from your brain, but the shock is still there, thick in your chest. it’s like a pulse, steady and unrelenting, buzzing through your veins. you don’t know what to do with it. how to process it.

at this point, you can hardly recognize yourself. the person you used to be—before all this. you would have never let spencer walk away from that. you would’ve confronted him, spoken your truth, demanded that he listen. you were an opinionated person, it wasn't like you to let someone walk over you—spencer liked that about you. you would’ve never felt embarrassed by something so simple, so vulnerable, said to the man you loved.

the anger bubbles up, creeping through the shock like a slow poison, and suddenly, your skin feels tight. it feels wrong. how dare he? how can he just walk away, leave you in this empty room, in this awful, suffocating silence, after everything you’ve been through together?

surely, you wouldn't do this to him. that thought had crossed your mind before, only to be quickly pushed away by the reminder that you couldn't possibly know what he was going through—what he felt in that place.

but now, the thought clung to you, insistent, refusing to be ignored and with it came another. maybe he didn’t know how to let go of you—maybe he was too afraid to say the words, so instead, he kept hurting you without even realizing it. maybe he thought pulling away was easier than facing the truth. if the roles were reversed, you'd seek him out, wanting his comfort, his presence. so why wasn't he doing the same for you? why was he so unwilling to lean on you—when he had done it a million times before?

the pulse in your neck quickens, blood rushing, and you grip the edge of the couch, knuckles white. you don't even realize you're standing now, the instinct to do something, anything, pushing you forward. your breath comes quick and shallow as frustration and disbelief twist inside you like a knot that you can't untangle.

what are you supposed to do with this? what are you supposed to do when your own husband looks at you like you’re nothing—like you’re some kind of inconvenience he just can’t deal with tonight?

your body moves on its own, your legs carrying you to the door as if they have a will of their own—pyjamas and slippers be damned—the front door slams shut behind you with an almost violent finality. the apartment feels suffocating now, the weight of his absence, of his rejection, too much to bear. you need to leave.

you don’t bother to grab your phone. what would be the point? there’s nothing to say to him anymore—if he would even call. not when you’re standing on the edge of something you can’t even explain to yourself, a frustration and sadness mixing into something unrecognizable.

you walk fast, too fast, the cold air biting at your skin, and it helps. the briskness of the night, the sting of it, gives you a sense of purpose, something to focus on other than the gnawing emptiness inside you. you don’t want to sit in that silence any longer, don’t want to stew in your thoughts, trapped in that apartment where the echoes of your broken attempts at connection are suffocating.

jj’s place isn’t far—just a few blocks—but it might as well be a world away. the walk feels like an eternity, but it’s the only thing you can control right now. you don't have to think about spencer. you don’t have to think about him.

you find yourself at jj’s door, your breath coming out in white clouds, and for the first time tonight, you feel a brief flicker of something approaching relief. you knock twice, hard, before pulling back and pressing your forehead against the doorframe, closing your eyes, letting the coolness of it ground you. what the hell am i doing?

when she opens the door, her eyes widen at the sight of you, but she doesn’t ask. she doesn’t need to. she just steps aside, pulling you in with a soft, understanding smile.

“you okay?” she asks gently, though you know she already knows the answer.

you nod, but only because you don't trust your voice not to break if you speak. she doesn’t push, just closes the door behind you and leads you to the couch. you sit without a word, leaning back against the cushions, closing your eyes, and for the first time in what feels like months, you let yourself breathe.

jj moves toward the kitchen without a word, and you hear the familiar sound of glasses clinking, followed by the admittedly soothing pour of wine. she returns with a glass in each hand, her expression knowing. she hands you one and sits down beside you, settling into the cushions with the kind of ease that makes you wish you could do the same.

"talk to me,” she says, her voice quiet, but firm enough to break the silence that’s settled between you. it’s not a question, really—more like a gentle command, the kind that only someone who knows you can give.

you let out a breath, leaning back into the couch, staring at the ceiling for a moment, unsure where to even begin. everything feels like a mess. but her presence, her calm, makes you feel like you might find the strength to sort it out.

“spencer—" you stop yourself, the words catching in your throat. you shake your head, a laugh escaping your lips at the disbelief of your situation. "i don’t even know what to say anymore. i don’t know how we got here. it’s like i don’t even know who he is anymore.”

jj listens, her eyes steady, her hands wrapped around her own glass, but her gaze never wavers. she’s waiting. you know she won’t interrupt.

“i thought... i thought he’d come back to me, you know?” the words slip out before you can stop them, and the sadness that follows hits you harder than anything before. “i thought, with time, things would get better. that i could get him back, the way he was. but... it’s like he’s not even here anymore. i don’t know how to reach him. and when i try, it feels like he just shuts me out more.”

you swallow hard, feeling a sharp sting behind your eyes. it feels pathetic, but you can’t stop it now. you can’t stop the flood of everything that’s been building up, everything you’ve been trying to ignore.

“he’s gone, jj. and i don’t know how to be with someone who’s... not really here,” you say, your voice breaking on the last word.

jj doesn’t say anything at first, just lets you breathe, lets you sit with it for a moment. “i know it doesn’t feel like it right now, but he’s not gone. he’s just... changed. and change is hard. for both of you.”

you scoff softly, shaking your head. “i feel like i'm going crazy."

jj watches you carefully, her gaze unwavering as she processes your words. you feel exhausted—physically, emotionally—like the weight of the past few months has finally settled on your shoulders all at once.

jj studies you for a long moment, her expression unreadable. then, she exhales, setting her wine glass down on the coffee table. “you’re not crazy,” she says simply. “you’re grieving.”

that catches you off guard. you blink at her. “grieving?”

she nods. “yeah. you’re grieving the life you had before. the spencer you had before.” she pauses. “and maybe... the version of yourself that existed before all this.”

you open your mouth, but no words come out. you want to argue, to tell her it’s not that simple, that you’re not mourning spencer like he’s some lost cause, but—god—doesn’t it feel like that sometimes? doesn’t it feel like the person you knew, the person you loved, is slipping further and further away?

jj sighs, leaning forward, resting her elbows on her knees. “i know what it’s like to watch someone you love disappear into themselves. to feel helpless while they struggle with something you can’t fix.” her voice is softer now, careful, like she’s walking a tightrope. “it’s terrifying.”

your fingers tighten around your wine glass. “so what do i do?” the question comes out more fragile than you want it to, barely above a whisper.

she’s quiet for a moment, thinking. “you—" her words are interrupted by an abrupt sound. jj’s phone is ringing, sharp and sudden in the quiet of the room. you flinch, your heart leaping into your throat before you even see the name on the screen. but you already know.

spencer.

panic grips you, fast and unrelenting, and before you can think, the words spill out. “don’t answer it.”

jj hesitates, glancing at the phone on the coffee table. the screen glows with his name, the sound vibrating between you like a living thing. “he’s your husband,” she says gently, but her fingers hover over the screen instead of answering.

“i don’t care,” you whisper, shaking your head. “please, jj. don’t.”

she studies you, eyes flicking over your face like she’s trying to gauge just how serious you are. if she picks up, you’ll have to hear him—his voice, his clipped tone, his inevitable question: where are you? and what then? you don’t have an answer.

jj sighs, silencing the call but not declining it. the ringing stops, but the silence that follows is almost worse.

“you know he’s worried,” she says carefully. “you left without your phone. you think he’s just going to let that go?”

you squeeze your eyes shut, gripping your glass like it’s the only thing tethering you to the moment. “i don’t know,” you admit. “i just—I can’t do this right now. fuck.”

jj shifts closer, her voice calm but firm. “running won’t fix this.”

you let out a short, bitter laugh. “staying hasn't."

she doesn’t have an answer for that.

jj watches you carefully, then sighs. “stay here as long as you need. but at some point, you have to decide—are you going home? or are you walking away?”

your arm is moving suddenly, the wine glass at your lips. her words settle over you like a weight. and for the first time, you realize—you don’t know.

jj's phone buzzes again, and you flinch at the sight of spencer’s name lighting up the screen. the call goes to voicemail, and for a few seconds, there’s nothing but silence.

the phone rings a second time. you can almost hear spencer’s voice in your head, the exact tone he always takes when he doesn’t know what to say.

“I’ll answer it,” jj says softly, but the words feel like a concession rather than a promise. she picks up the phone, and her thumb hovers over the screen.

you don’t stop her, but you wish you could. you wish you could shut everything down, turn it all off.

“spencer?” jj says, her voice calm, controlled.

you close your eyes, hearing his voice crackle through the speaker.

“jj... is she there?” spencer’s voice sounds worn, tight with something just beneath the surface. you can hear the familiar threads of guilt and concern tangled in his words. “i—i don’t know where she went. she just… she left without saying anything.”

jj looks at you, her expression unreadable. you can feel the heat of her stare on you.

“yeah, she's here.” jj finally responds, her words careful. “but she's not ready to talk to you right now, spencer.”

a long pause follows. you can hear spencer’s breath, shallow, like he’s holding something back.

“i just... i just need to know she's okay,” he says, the frustration and desperation clear in his voice. “please.”

you wince at the pleading in his words. it cuts through you in a way you hadn’t expected.

jj looks at you, her expression unreadable, before she glances down at the phone again. you can feel the heat of her stare on you.

“she’s fine,” jj says, with a note of finality. “but I think you need to give her some time. she’s been through a lot, spencer. you both have.”

“time?” Spencer’s voice cracks. “jj, i don’t—“

but she cuts him off. “i’m not getting in the middle of this. just... take care of yourself for now, okay? you’ll talk when she’s ready. she’ll come back when she’s ready.”

the phone goes silent for a moment, and then the faint click of the line disconnecting. jj pulls the phone away from her ear and sets it down on the coffee table with a soft sigh.

jj sits back, her gaze still trained on you, like she’s waiting for something.

the silence in the room feels heavier now. It presses against your chest, and the weight of it makes your thoughts swirl faster than they should. spencer’s voice still echoes in your mind—i just need to know she's okay. you don’t want to admit it, but the desperation in his words cuts deeper than you anticipated. you don’t want to feel guilty. but it settles over you, thick and unavoidable, as you sit on jj’s couch, the comfort of her presence fading into the background.

“he sounded worried,” you murmur, more to yourself than to jj.

she nods, watching you carefully. “of course he’s worried.”

you press your lips together, exhaling slowly. “i didn’t think he’d care that much.” the words taste bitter on your tongue, because the truth is, you had wanted him to care. you had wanted him to call, to ask where you were, to prove—at least to himself—that there was still something left between you worth saving.

and he did.

he did.

but now, sitting here, away from him, away from that apartment, the weight of your actions starts creeping in, cold and insidious.

you left.

you walked out without a word.

you knew what it was like to feel abandoned, to reach for someone and find nothing but empty space. and now you’ve done the same to him.

the realization makes your chest tighten, and suddenly, the fight, the frustration, the resentment—it all feels distant, overshadowed by something heavier. something closer to shame.

jj shifts beside you, her voice quiet but knowing. “you’re thinking about going back.”

you shake your head quickly. “i don’t know.” but it’s a lie. you do know.

you inhale sharply, pressing your palm to your forehead, trying to ground yourself. “god, what am I doing, jj?”

“you’re allowed to feel this, you know,” she says simply. “you’re allowed to be angry. to be hurt. to need space.”

you swallow hard, blinking down at your hands. they feel foreign to you, like they belong to someone else. “i just—” you hesitate, voice cracking slightly. “i just got so mad. he was so dismissive of me, and i couldn't be there anymore.”

“i know.”

you stare down at your lap, your fingers tightening around the fabric of your sweater.

you shake your head, guilt curling in your chest. “but that’s not me, jj. that’s not who I am. i don’t just… walk away. i got angry and i overreacted.”

she sighs. “one moment doesn't define you. things are different now. you've never been in a situation like this before,” she pauses. “sometimes you have to walk away, to get your thoughts in order."

"it would've been worse if you blew up at him." she added.

"i think i still might." you said with a dry laugh.

jj smiled slightly, her gaze softening as she leaned back, “you’ve always been the one to hold things together,” she said, her voice gentle but firm, as if trying to remind you that it was okay to break sometimes. “but you can’t hold it all in forever. and sometimes… sometimes you need space to breathe, to think. you don’t always have to be the strong one.”

you let out a breath, unsure of what to say next. jj was always good at cutting through the noise, but the guilt still sat heavily in your chest. you couldn’t escape the feeling that walking away—no matter how much you needed to—had been the wrong choice.

jj watches you for a moment, then leans forward, resting her elbows on her knees. “listen, i know it feels like you did something wrong by leaving, but you didn’t. you needed space. that’s not the same as giving up.”

you nod slowly, staring down at your hands, but you don’t respond.

jj sighs, then reaches over and squeezes your arm. "look, if there’s anyone who understands why you did what you did, it’s spencer. he has spent his life studying human behavior—figuring out how they think and why they do what they do. spencer knows exactly why you walked out, even if he won't admit it. he knows it was about needing space, about trying to make sense of everything that’s been building up between you.”

she pauses, giving you a reassuring look. “this isn’t the end. this is just a bump in the road—you'll go back when you're ready, and you'll start working through it all."

spencer knows why you left.

the thought lingers, easing the guilt that’s been clawing at you since you walked out. maybe that’s why he didn’t come after you. maybe, in his own way, he understood that you needed this moment to step back, to breathe, to process.

you hope—no, you need—to believe that he’s coming to his own realization. that in the quiet of your absence, in the stillness of an apartment that no longer holds your presence, he’s starting to understand. that maybe, just maybe, he’s replaying every word, every moment, and seeing where it all went wrong.

you want him to recognize that pushing you away was a mistake. that shutting you out, closing himself off instead of letting you in, only built more distance between you. and most of all, you hope he understands now—truly understands—that love isn’t about shutting doors, but about keeping them open, even when it’s hard.

the irony of the situation dawns on you. sitting here, hoping he comes to the right conclusion on his own, won’t change anything. no matter how hurt or frustrated you are, you know one thing for certain—you aren’t going to push him away the way he did to you.

you glance at jj, her eyes soft with understanding, and suddenly, you don’t feel as lost as you did before.

“i have to go back,” you murmur, the words feeling right the moment they leave your lips.

jj studies you for a moment before nodding. “yeah, i figured.” there’s no judgment in her voice, only quiet support.

you stand, but before you can say anything, jj speaks again. “i’m driving you.”

you blink at her. “jj, i can—”

"it’s late, and it’s cold,” she interrupts, crossing her arms. “and i know you. you’ll spend the entire walk overthinking, or worse, you’ll turn around and come right back here.”

you open your mouth to argue, but she raises an eyebrow, daring you to fight her on this. you sigh, giving in. “fine. i'll still overthink in the car though.”

jj smirks as she grabs her keys. "yeah, but at least this way, you’ll be overthinking with heated seats and no risk of getting hit by a rogue cyclist."

you roll your eyes, but there's a small smile tugging at the corner of your lips. "alright, alright. guess I’ll overthink in comfort then." you step outside, the weight of everything that’s about to unfold on your back.

the ride back is quiet, the streets nearly empty as jj navigates the familiar roads. you stare out the window, your finger spinning your wedding band, mind racing with all the possibilities of what comes next.

you wonder how it will be when you walk through that door. will he be surprised to see you? will he be angry? will he apologize? the questions swirl in your mind, but you push them aside—you'll find out in a few minutes either way.

jj pulls up in front of the apartment building and turns to you, her expression gentle. “you don’t have to fix everything tonight,” she reminds you. “just… put all your cards on the table. don't sugarcoat anything.”

you nod, feeling a mix of gratitude and nervous anticipation. "thank you, jj," you say softly, giving her a small smile. "i don’t know what i would’ve done without you tonight."

she smiles back, her eyes warm with understanding. "you’ll be fine. just be honest, that’s all you can do."

with a final nod, you push the door open, the cold air immediately hitting you as you step out onto the sidewalk. your heart is pounding in your chest, each step towards the apartment feeling heavier than the last.

you twist the handle, it's unlocked, but you hesitate before pushing the door open, gathering your courage in the silent hallway. when you finally step inside, the apartment is quiet—but not empty. a single lamp illuminates the living room, casting long shadows across the walls.

and there's spencer, sitting on the couch hunched over with his elbows on his knees, head in his hands.

he looks up at the sound of the door, and for a brief moment, his face is completely unguarded. relief washes over his features, followed quickly by something that looks almost like fear. he stands immediately, his movements stiff and uncertain.

"you came back," he says, his voice hoarse.

you close the door behind you, still standing near the threshold. "i started feeling guilty." you sighed, jj's voice in the back of your head—just be honest.

spencer swallows, his gaze flickering to the floor for a moment before meeting yours again. "guilty?" he repeats, his voice quieter now, almost hesitant.

spencer exhales sharply, rubbing a hand over his face. “you shouldn't feel guilty," he murmurs, then shakes his head. "i mean, it makes sense,” he says quickly, his words picking up speed.

“studies show that guilt is often a response to perceived moral transgressions rather than actual wrongdoing. it’s the brain’s way of enforcing social cohesion—an evolutionary mechanism designed to maintain interpersonal relationships by making us feel responsible for potential harm, even when no actual harm has been inflicted.”

you couldn’t help but feel a strange mix of disbelief and amusement as he rambled on. it was as if, in the middle of all this, the man you once knew had momentarily resurfaced. even if what he was saying wasn’t at all what you needed to hear right now, a part of you couldn't help but recognize the familiarity in it—the way he always got lost in his thoughts, trying to explain things when he didn’t quite know how to connect.

he shifts on his feet, his words picking up speed. “and in this case, your reaction makes perfect sense. you removed yourself from a heightened emotional situation in order to regulate your response, which, psychologically speaking, is a far healthier alternative to reactive conflict. but then, the cognitive dissonance sets in—the part where your brain tells you that leaving contradicts your usual patterns of behavior, and that discrepancy triggers guilt, even if logically—”

“spencer,” you interrupt gently.

his mouth snaps shut, and for a second, there’s just silence. a flicker of something vulnerable crosses his face, and you realize—he’s rambling because he doesn’t know what else to say. because this is easier for him than actually talking about what matters.

you step forward, closing a bit of the distance between you. “i don’t need an analysis,” you tell him gently. "i just want you to tell me what's going on."

spencer’s gaze flickers for a moment, like he’s trying to find the words, trying to make sense of the situation. "i never wanted you to feel like you needed to leave," he says, his voice quieter now, more vulnerable. “but i didn’t exactly make it easy for you to stay.”

you lean against the doorframe, arms crossed, the weight of everything you haven’t said pressing heavily on your chest. "no, you didn’t," you admit, your voice just above a whisper.

his expression tightens, a flash of something—guilt, maybe—crossing his face before he looks away.

"i've been trying," he says quietly. "i have."

"have you?" the question comes out sharper than you intended, but you don't soften it. "because from where i'm standing, it feels like you've been doing everything possible to push me away."

spencer's gaze snaps back to you, a hint of defensiveness in his eyes. "that's not fair."

"isn't it?" you take another step forward, emboldened by the surge of emotions you've held back for too long. "you won't talk to me. you won't look at me. you won't even sit next to me on the couch. what am i supposed to think, spencer?"

he runs a hand through his hair, frustration evident in every movement. "it's not that simple," he says, his voice strained. "i want to be the person you remember, but i don't know if i can be that man anymore."

the admission hits you like a physical blow. "i'm not asking you to be exactly who you were before," you say softly. "i know that's not possible. i just... i need you to be present. to talk to me. to not shut me out completely."

spencer is quiet for a long moment, his gaze fixed on some point beyond you. when he finally speaks, his voice is barely audible. "i don't know how to explain what it was like in there."

your breath catches. this is the closest he's come to talking about prison since he's been home. you don't know if you should say something. you hold your breath, afraid that if you move or speak, he'll retreat again.

his eyes are distant, far away, and for a moment, you wonder if he’s even aware of how much you’re hanging on his every word. finally, he exhales slowly, his gaze dropping to the floor as if the weight of it all is too much to bear.

“being in there… it broke something inside of me,” he says, voice low and strained. “i kept thinking about what it would be like to come back, to be here, with you. and then i just—" he paused for a moment. "i had to do something really bad. i had to do things in there that… things i never thought i would do."

"i hate myself for it. every second of it." his voice breaks on the last word, he shakes his head, hands shaking slightly as he runs them through his hair, frustration and guilt radiating from him.

"i wasn't just a victim in there—i became someone i don't even recognize anymore. i did things that went against everything i ever believed in, everything i told myself i would never do."

he looks at you now, and you can see the turmoil in his eyes—the deep-rooted shame and the self-loathing that’s consumed him. "and now i’m back here, with you, and i don’t even know who i am anymore. i’ve become this person who did unforgivable things. you don't deserve someone like me, someone who’s capable of—of that." he gestures vaguely, as if trying to encompass everything that’s happened to him.

"is that why you've been pushing me away?" you ask softly. "because you think i won't love who you are now?"

he doesn't answer, but the way he avoids your gaze tells you everything.

"baby," you whisper, shifting closer to him. "nothing could change how I see you."

you take a slow, unsteady breath, searching for the right words—any words—but everything feels inadequate. how do you explain something that goes beyond language?

"god, spencer," you exhale, shaking your head. "i wish i was better at this. i wish i had the right words, i wish i was some kind of poet, and that i could say the right things to make you understand, but i'm not."

you finally close the gap between you two and take his hands, gripping them tightly, pressing them against your chest as if somehow, if he just feels the way your heart beats for him, he’ll finally understand.

"it’s frustrating," you continue, voice thick with emotion. "because what i feel for you—it’s bigger than me. it’s bigger than words. i can’t explain it, and i hate that, because i need you to know. i need you to understand that this isn’t something breakable, something you can ruin, something you can chase away just because you think you should."

he swallows hard, his fingers curling around yours, but he doesn’t speak. maybe he can’t.

"i swear, spencer, if there was a way to pull this feeling out of me and give it to you, i would. if i could make you see yourself the way i see you, make you understand that what you did—what you had to do—doesn’t make you unworthy of love, i would do it in a heartbeat." your voice breaks slightly, tears now lining your eyes. "because i don’t just love you. it’s not that simple. it’s not just some feeling, some thing i could ever put into words. it’s more. it doesn’t begin or end with what you’ve done, or what’s happened to you, or who you think you’ve become. it just is."

he lets out a shaky breath, his eye are now wet, shining under the dim apartment light, his lips parted slightly like he wants to argue but can’t find the strength to. because maybe, just maybe, for the first time—he’s starting to believe you.

"i just wish—i wish you could feel it," you murmur, voice breaking. "i wish you could step into my skin, into my heart, and know how much i love you."

you don’t realize you’re crying until he reaches up, hesitantly, brushing his fingers against your cheek like he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he touches you. his hand is shaking, but he doesn’t pull away.

spencer’s expression falters, something breaking inside of him, and when he finally—finally—pulls you into his arms, it’s not desperate or frantic. his arms wrap around you slowly, almost reverently, as though he's trying to let the feeling of your love wash over him, to understand it the way you do.

at first, it’s just the slightest tremble in his shoulders, so faint you almost miss it. but then you feel it—the shaky exhale against your neck, the way his fingers clutch at the fabric of your shirt like he’s afraid to let go. and then, slowly, silently, he starts to break.

his breath hitches, and before he can stop it, a quiet sob escapes him, muffled against your shoulder. his body shakes, all the pain and guilt unraveling all at once, and all you can do is hold him through it. his hands grasp at you like you’re the only thing tethering him to the present, like if he lets go, he’ll disappear into everything he’s been trying so hard to contain.

you don’t say anything. you don’t tell him it’s okay, because you know he wouldn’t believe it. or maybe because it isn't. but it will be. you'll make sure of that.

your fingers thread through his hair, your lips press against his temple, and you whisper the same words over and over, a promise and a lifeline: "i love you. i love you. i love you."

you stay like that for a while, wrapped in each other, the weight of everything that’s happened still lingering in the air between you. but it’s different now. lighter, somehow. not because everything is fixed—there are still conversations to have, wounds to tend to, pieces of him he hasn’t shown you yet.

but for the first time in a long while, you feel like you’re on the same side again. you’re not standing in separate corners, silently blaming each other for things you can’t control.

the weight in your chest, the anxiety that has gnawed at you since that day you got the call about him being detained, begins to fade. you don’t need to fix everything tonight. you don’t need to have all the answers.

his breathing begins to steady, the tears slowing, but he doesn’t pull away. instead, he rests his forehead against yours, his voice a raw whisper as he says the only thing he can in this moment. “i’m sorry.”

you close your eyes for a moment, exhaling softly. “i know,” you whisper.

there's a beat of silence. "i've been having nightmares," he says, his voice so low you have to strain to hear him. "almost every night. that's where i go sometimes—i walk before going to bed. i walk so that i'm exhausted enough that my mind shuts down."

the sudden admission breaks your heart—but there's also a part of you that feels relief. relief that he wasn't turning to something worse or someone else to numb the pain.

"spencer, you could have told me." you said, fingers rubbings patterns into his back.

"i didn't want to burden you more than i already have," he says, shaking his head. "you've already been through so much because of me."

"that's not how this works," you say, squeezing his hand. "just forget all of that, okay? things will be different now. you not talking to me hurts more than that ever could."

he leans into you, his eyes closing for a brief moment. "i'm sorry," he whispers. "for pushing you away. for making you feel like you weren't enough. you've always been enough."

you lift a hand to his face, your thumb brushing against his cheek as you take in the exhaustion lining his features—the weight he’s been carrying alone for too long. slowly, carefully, you lean in, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to his lips. just a warm, quiet reassurance that you’re here, that you’re staying.

when you finally pull away, his forehead rests against yours, and he lets out a quiet sigh, his breath warm against your skin. he looks at you, his eyes filled with a mixture of hope and uncertainty. "do you want to go to bed?" he asks, voice low.

you pause for a moment, you hadn’t realized just how exhausted you were until his mention of sleep. your shoulders feel heavy, and your body aches from the emotional toll it’s taken.

a deep, almost instinctual sigh escapes your lips, and you nod softly, “yeah."

spencer squeezes your hand gently and leads you toward the bedroom. the moment the covers are pulled back, you slip under the soft sheets, the cool fabric against your skin offering the smallest comfort after everything you've been through. spencer follows you in, his body warm and reassuring as he settles beside you.

he moves closer, carefully wrapping his arms around you, pulling you into him with a tenderness that makes your chest tighten. you rest your head on his chest, the steady beat of his heart grounding you. his presence, steady and constant, washes over you like a balm, soothing the frantic, scattered thoughts in your mind.

his hand moves slowly up and down your back, the rhythm soothing, and you realize just how much you've missed this—missed him.

you close your eyes, letting the weight of everything melt away as you drift closer to sleep. spencer’s voice is soft, a comforting murmur as he presses a kiss to the top of your head.

"i love you."

#spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #matthew gray gubler #prison reid #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid angst #postprison!spencer

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altschmerzes · 3 days ago

Text

i need to stop shadowboxing the concept of romance when i write. i need to make my brain go to a world where romance doesn’t exist when i write because feeling its constant presence and people’s expectations of its presence and reading in of its presence is making me a worse writer.

like. thinking a lot about that post that’s going around rn about Books That Are Clearly Afraid Of The Reader. been thinking about how fear of being interpreted or perceived or whatever permeates a Lot of what i do and always has, creatively, and frankly compromises it, especially in terms of fear of people reading romance into my stuff because of how much i write about interpersonal relationships and intimacy and reliance and vulnerability and intense emotional situations.

i need to stop trying to build a boat with my main priority being ‘i dont want people to insist to me that this is a car or make people feel tricked into seeing a car etc etc’ when there is actually no part of this boat that needs to be made with cars in mind at all i could just Build The Damn Boat. this metaphor got lost.

point is i need to stop letting romance take up space in my stories at all. even if it's just as something i'm doing backflips over and around. i need to just start writing about platonic relationships - friendships, queerplatonic relationships, familial relationships, etc - without feeling like i need to first disprove romance as an automated and inherent assumption. romance should have no quarter here, even in feeling forced to deny it.

#gav gab #thinking aloud #sorry if youre in a server with me where you have to see this twice in a row #im just thinking a lot about it #this is definitely um. Influenced. by ocd.#but it's like...#the duelling desires to both have my work understood as being deliberately joyfully and unambiguously #about platonic relationships #while not wanting to put myself in a situation of constantly having to be like #“i love you As A Friend” says character A #character B wanted to hug character C but not in a romantic way or anything #characters D and F didn't have a romantic relationship but it was deeply intimate and committed and Real anyway #i want to just. yknow. have those things exist without having to give space and deference to romance even in denial #yknow?#i just dont know how to have both things at once #'what about ambiguity though gav' i dont want ambiguity.#i dont want Fuck Labels Who Cares What The Type Of Relationship Is! Fuck Platonic And Romantic!#It's Just Love!#i want platonic. period. end of.#good for people who find joy and value in ambiguity and unlabelled dynamics for real im happy for you #that's not where my joy and my sense of being seen lies #anyway. i just feel like im constantly shadowboxing romance yknow #and i want to stop. bc not only does that suck ass it just #i think it makes me a worse writer. i really do think that.#im just so SO aware of how people are going to interpret things most likely #as it has happened to me and in front of me Constantly #since i started sharing my creative work in any capacity #im just sick of it yknow. im sick of constantly having to be so hyperaware of fucking romance #in my writing

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dearestzaychik · 2 days ago

Text

Our Forsakened Destiny.

This Fanfic is for those starving Forsaken Fans out there by the way!!

(( same here ngl... ))

[ Forsaken x Isekai'd Reader ]

[ Gender Neutral Reader ]

TW : Cursing, Touching Jokes ( only mentioned once ), DoubleFedora Mentioned but It's not something that will happen during the actual story.

[ PROLOGUE ]

READER’S POV.

Clouds up in the skies, in a bustling city during the afternoon as they woke up to the sound of ringing.

“..What time is it already?”

Stated the individual, picking their phone up from the stand as they glanced at the upcoming discord notifications and a call from their friends. Their messages flickering in the channel as the Voice channel looked to be active as well. Looks like Peanut is the most active in the channel as of late.

MENTAL ASYLUM

The NUT :

@Loser101

Join.

Naps :

They might be asleep nut..

The NUT :

at 2 in the afternoon

I don’t think so

Their waking up bc

I said so!

Loser101 :

Boo

Hobo :

Oh my goodness me

Toilet

Menoes :

WAITT THEIR BOTH ALIVE

Hobo :

Im pooping rn

Loser101 :

Hold your horses I jst woke up..

The NUT :

Did you

stay up late..

again

Loser101 :

Yeah…

Menoes :

I think we might have gotten [ Y/N ] addicted to Forsaken..

The NUT :

GOOD

Now join us!!

@Loser101

Naps :

Don’t forget to join VC as well!

Stupid Idiot :

[ Sent an Attachment. ]

Loser101 :

Hold on I still need to get up dawg..

The NUT :

well be quicker

Menoes :

Veen I’m gonna touch you.

Stupid Idiot :

Yeahhh I’m switching out of 07..

Menoes :

WAITT NO I'M SORRY—

Naps :

Oh my days, Just play the game already the match is starting!

[ Message #general ]

Right, Your dear friends. A few days ago, they seemed to pull you into a game called Forsaken on Roblox. Usually, you don't play games such as Roblox, preferring Identity V over games like that. But they somehow pulled you into a Roblox Game that had somewhat of the same mechanics as Identity V, hence the heavy persuasion from Peanut especially.

“Impatient as always.”

You quoted, knowing how impatient Peanut can be. They already seemed to have started before you, but nevertheless they can wait a little longer. After all, you just woke up and you at least needed to get ready for the day.

THIRD PERSON POV.

Getting up from the bed, slipping into your bunny slippers as you walked to the Kitchen. Turning on the Coffee Machine.. It was just a normal day like always, Thankfully there was a Holiday during Friday meant it was gonna be a Long Weekend. You didn’t need to worry about going to work for now, that’s for sure.

Peanut and the others are still waiting, but they wouldn’t mind waiting for a little while longer. Even though you played the game, you didn't know much compared to how the group knew the Techniques and Story for each character. Maybe the basics of the gameplay you definitely grasped, but the Story behind the characters? Not so much. Maybe the simplified version, but even so it's still limited knowledge about the game itself.

Maybe one day you’ll finally find the time to actually start reading and looking into the story itself.

Ding! Seems like the coffee machine is done making your coffee, you can actually start going through your day.

READER’S POV.

As you were about to take a sip of your freshly brewed coffee, a notification rang in the air once more.. Right, Peanut and the others were still waiting for you. As you opened Discord, you didn’t bother to read the messages in the channel as you immediately joined the VC.

“Oh my god… The whole entire server is targeting us at this point!”

Stated Naps, seemingly frustrated at the current situation she had at hand.

“We’re healers, of course they would target us because we are practically a whole healing buffet for the survivors if we keep surviving!”

Meos replied to Naps, At this point not taking everything seriously as he laughed it off.

“Finally, [ Y/N ] joined the vc... Join us right now in Forsaken or else I’m gonna fucking loose it.. I’m about to be killer right now and may Zeus strike me down if I’m lying, I’M GONNA MURDER THIS FUCKING GUEST-”

Peanut suddenly shot out, before muting her mic. She doesn’t usually open her mic unless it's to call something out or rant about a player, either way Peanut is just.. being Peanut.

“Alright, alright.. Just give me a moment to open my PC then I’ll join.”

You, along with Meos and Naps continued to chat in the call as you joined the server. Looks like Veen was in here too, but he didn’t have his mic opened. Either way, you managed to join in time as the Round loaded in, With Peanut being the Killer as Mafioso.. While you played Chance, unable to switch characters either way since you joined as soon as the round started.

“WAIT OH MY GOD THERE’S A 007N7 IN THE ROUND–”

“Meos, No.”

Surprisingly after that whole thing as well as Peanut killing off the Toxic Guest she wanted to kill, The round was a friendly round as Peanut didn’t seem to want to kill anybody else.. Other than the fact that she was approaching you slowly of course.. She shipped DoubleFedora, but was very open to other ships of course. The pinnacle of being a Multishipper..

“No, no, no. Stop being gay...”

Naps stated, trying to body block Peanut away from you, definitely done from Peanut’s shenanigans.. You couldn’t help but stifle a laugh, this was the usual events that happened during your gameplays with your dear friends. Sadly, Caleb and Debt didn’t seem to be able to play today, but there were still plenty of times to play with them either way.

“Sorry guys, I prefer 1x1x1x1 x Sonic the Hedgehog as my OTP..”

Veen suddenly stated, jumpscaring everybody with how randomly timed he opened his mic. Earning a questionable silence in the voice call before the collection of sudden screams replied..

“..WHAT-”

After the round ended, A Message popped up onto your screen. It quoted..

[ team c00lkidd join today! ]

- [ YES ]

- [ NO ] [ YES. ]

“..Guys, do you know what this message is?”

Although it seemed to be somewhat in themed of what you’re playing, considering there was a Killer that was themed around c00lkidd, but you couldn’t help but feel wary about the message. After all, none of your friends ever mentioned a message like this.

“What do you mean by a message? Did someone message you?”

Meos asked, seemingly clueless about the message you received. His tone feigned concern, earning you Naps and the other’s attention as well.

“..No, it's a message box that popped up in the game. It says `team c00lkidd join today`.”

Before you could even get a reply from any of your friends, your PC started crashing as multiple errors seemed to come out while everything else was becoming glitchy and distorted. Your friends tried reaching out, feigning even more concern when you didn’t respond.

“..[ Y/N ]? A��-re yo[] there?—”

“Can yo[] 6ear u—”

The voices of your friends glitching out before an uncomfortable silence lingered in the air, their voices long gone as the only thing you seemed to be able to hear was a static noise coming from your PC. Suddenly, there was a force pulling you in specifically from the Monitor itself. No matter how hard you tried to pull yourself away from it, the harder it was to get out of this predicament. Eventually, the force overpowered your feeble strength as a human, getting sucked inside the Monitor as everything around you seemed to crumble apart and glitch out even more.

You were scared, frightened to say the least. After all, You still had so much to live for. Looking at your hands as you fell into a black abyss, you can see yourself glitching out as well. Although it was painless, it sent a wave of sickness through you. As the further you fell, the more it was a struggle to even open your eyes. The last thing you could see before you passed out was a pop up in red stating..

[ Welcome to your new home. ]

Whether that message was meant to comfort you or not, It definitely didn’t help. Whatever was happening to you, it was far from normal against Human standards if it weren’t so obvious enough. Cursing yourself as you couldn’t open your eyes any longer, succumbing to the abyss that pulled you further and further as your little life was about to take a turn.

[ ACHIEVEMENT UNLOCKED. ]

Chapter 1 :

Welcome to Hell.

Onto the next chapter..

I'm starving so I decided to cook food myself.. It might look like a bit of a joke first but we can take some jokes then and there! Especially since this is just the prologue :3

NOTES

Right now, this is a small introduction to a series so do hope in mind that everything might not stay the same!

#forsaken x reader #forsaken #roblox forsaken x reader #forsaken roblox x reader

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simonsrileyhusband · 3 days ago

Note

Would you be willing to write angst?

Like MReader who is with Ghost in the military but not in the same unit? Taskforce?

So they don't see each other a lot and have to worry about one another on every mission the other is on. Then MR got hurt and Simon doesn't find out until he's back too?

Hope you have a wonderful day💝 Sorry if it's a bit scrambled, a lot of noise around me right now

(im not the best at writting angs, but i tried. also dont apologize! <3)

simon looked at the floor of the compacted van, to his right gaz was asleep, snooring and drooling all over himself. he tries to keep his mind busy, but its hard now that he isnt running from bullets and shooting at enemies.

now his mind can only wander to one thing, one person. usually you two dont go on missions at the same time, but that week was different. simom had to leave a day after you went into the field, he couldnt wait home, he couldnt be st base monitoring the mission, no. he was in the middle of nowhere without a clue on how are you.

and he cant stop himself from thinking the worse, he tries to breath. he remembers the way you would touch his chest and ask him to take deep breaths with you. the van stops, everyone gets down, he rushes to your barrack, empty.

he walks to search for your coronel, your captain, your medics, someone of your unit, anyone who can tell him where you are.

"mate... you dont know? he is on the medic wing..." one of the sargents of your unit mumbles nervously, simon feels like he was shot, no, worse, he has been shot a lot of times, this felt a thousand times worse.

his mind was lost, images of you in pain flashing before his eyes, were you awake? how bad was it? were you shoot? who did it? are they dead? were you alone? is it a cut? did you fall? and then he is in your room, three nurses trying to hold him back.

"what happened?" he whispers, walking to you, who laid on the bed a weak smile on yout face.

"hi handsome..."

simon sighs, walking besides your bed and kneeling om the floor, taking your hand in both of his, kissing your knuckles.

"wha-... are you okay?"

"im fine... im okay" he nods, closing his eyes as you grab his face genlty, rubbing his cheek. "im here, see?" he nod, nuzzling into your palm.

"i know, i just-... i panicked" he opens his eyes, looking at your eyes.

"i have been worse... bastard shot me on the thigh, lucky me he had bad aim and it didnt hit properly." you speak softly, simon hums.

"si... ill be fine"

"i know... i just..." he sighs "i cant do it without you"

#ghost x male reader #ghost x reader #simon riley x male reader #simon riley x reader #ghost fluff #simon riley fluff #cod fluff

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xwinterwidowx · 16 hours ago

Text

this is based on my personal hc that whenever Shadow gets angry or sad, he curls up into a ball and doesn't talk to or be around anyone. if you enjoyed this please comment/repost and like i love reading what you guys have to say!! i still have more fics coming up i just have to finish writing them hopefully i can do that tn <3

Shadow had been a lot of places. Hence, he had picked up some things along the way. One thing was that when he was sad, he would curl up into a ball and not speak or eat. He would stay like that until he felt better. Unfortunately, Sonic didn't know about this because he had never seen it happen, and Shadow hadn't told him. So when he walked in and saw Shadow like that, he started teasing him.

"Shadow? What'cha doing? Looks like fun." Sonic sits down next to the black ball of hedgehog quills. "C'mon, Shads, you can't be that mad, can you?" When Sonic gets no response, he starts being even more annoying than usual. "Faker, Im bored! Lets do something, please." After a few minutes of this, Shadow just mumbles a few words that takes Sonic a few seconds to comprehend.

"Go away, Sonic."

"Go away? Why?" Sonic looks confused, and if Shadow wasn't mad, he would've found it adorable.

"Im not in the mood for this."

"When are you ever? Come on, Shadow!" Sonic groans out of boredom.

"Sonic, stop!" Shadow yells as he rolls out of his ball. Sonic takes a small step back.

"Shadow? Are you okay?" He tries stepping forward but Shadow just steps back again.

"Yes, I'm fine," he growls. "Just go away. I'm not in the mood."

"Shadow, if somethings wrong, you can just tell m-"

"Nothing's wrong! Can't you just leave me alone? You're pissing me off!" Sonic feels his heart ache at how angry Shadow looks but he doesn't say anything. He just leaves, and it only takes Shadow a few mere seconds to realize what he did. He immediately starts walking after Sonic. "Sonic," he murmurs when he catches him. "I'm sorry. I-I'm sorry."

"Shadow, its fine... you don't have to say that, its okay to be mad."

"Not at you. Not when you didn't do anything wrong. I just... I can't control my anger sometimes. You didn't do anything wrong, sun-sun."

"I was annoying you," Sonic mumbles and buries his face in Shadow's white fur.

"You didn't know I wasn't in a good mood." Shadow scratches behind his boyfriend's ears and smiles when he hears a soft purr from him.

"I still shouldn't have done that. Are you okay?" he murmurs.

"I've just had a long day. A long week, actually. I haven't been able to relax properly."

"Do you wanna go relax now?" Sonic grabs Shadow's hand and starts walking back towards their room. Shadow just nods and lets Sonic drag him to their room. They get on the bed and Sonic lays on top of Shadow. "Tell me what happened this week."

"Are you sure you want to listen to it?" Shadow questions.

"Of course I do. As long as you-"

"Scratch your ears?" Shadow snorts and starts doing exactly that.

"I'm listening to whatever you have to say," Sonic smiles.

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solarismoons · 2 days ago

Text

SPOILERS FOR S2 EP7 OF SCHOOL SPIRITS

Mr. Martin rowing away with Janet is so ominous…

His acting is SO great. His mannerisms and the way he speaks is so perfect. “We deserve this.”

“It makes me sad.. That we couldn’t have gone to any of these places together.” NO one can tell me Maddie doesn’t like Wally as much as he likes her. That girl is in love.

I genuinely didn’t expect everyone to be right about Yuri and Charley! They recreated that pottery making scene!! I did not expect them to get freaky, but i’m NOT complaining.

IM GONNA SCREAM. The way Wally hooked his finger in her bra strap??? My heart is actually beating so fast..I know i’ve said this before, but the tongue is INSANE.

I love how the ghosts are having sex with each other while the living kids are literally crashing out.

I really wish we saw Quinn going into her scar for the first time… I really wonder what it would’ve looked like.

IM ACTUALLY CRYING. I did NOT expect to see Milo’s bare ass today, but DAMN… My jaw dropped to the FLOOR.

“It’s kind of hard not to think about everything that’s waiting for me here.” Ugh, don’t make me cry today PLEASE.

I’m a little surprised there was no talk of Maddie begin a virgin, since that seemed fairly important to her in the first season. I’m not complaining at all though, because WOW..

“Oh, god! I’m gonna need to guys to peel yourselves off each other and come down to the library stat.” The way Maddie nor Wally didn’t even TRY to cover up is killing me. They genuinely don’t GAF.

They were planning on torturing the other ghosts?? This just keeps getting worse and worse the more we learn.

“I’m glad it was you, too.” Please don’t make me like these two together…

‘Notice of suspension’??? God, i feel so awful for Simon. I never even thought of how this affected him. He’s missed so many classes countless times.. What about his future? He flunked that one college admission interview, too. If anything bad happens to Simon, i’m throwing a tantrum.

Oh my god… Poor Rhonda. I love her so much. Knowing she was alone with Janet and Mr. Martin for so long is just so horrifying.

I didn’t expect Dawn to be so involved! I love how she’s really not stupid or airheaded. She’s just a little eccentric. I’m so glad we got another scene with her.

This show is honestly a horror movie at this point… ‘Mr. Anderson’ being soaking wet, covered in mud with his head gushing blood walking around with a fireplace poker is terrifying. My heart is beating so fast.

Mr. Martins manipulating Janet is infuriating. I don’t even have the words to express how much I hate him.

Poor Quinn! I feel so bad. “I died knowing that everyone was mad at me.” My baby 😞💔💔.

“You can’t just leave me now.” STOP. I love them so much it hurts so bad.

I really didn’t expect Simon and Maddie to argue but it was bound to happen.

“Is this because of Wally?” I called it. I fucking called it. I KNEW this was going to come up. Kristian’s acting always gets me. I love Simon so much.

Patrick Gilmores acting is amazing. He somehow even sounds like Mr. Martin and it’s terrifying. Also, he’s lowkey hot and i’m not sorry for saying that.

Mr. Martin forcing Janet into the hellscape made me sick to my stomach.

This fandom is so smart it blows my mind. Everyone said Mr. South must know more about the scars than we had thought. I kind of thought he was just being melodramatic, but the more we saw the scars I changed my mind.

Everyone was right about the scar being Mr. Martin’s. This makes a whole lot more sense. The woman could’ve been his finance, considering the fact that we haven’t seen her before.

This episode was genuinely insane. I still haven’t even fully processed anything.

#i’m still reeling #from that ass shot #school spirits #milo manheim #school spirits season 2 #wally clark #maddie nears #split river high #peyton list #charley school spirits #mally #spoilers #rhonda school spirits #quinn school spirits #yuri school spirits #patrick gilmore

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ryuucam · 2 days ago

Note

Hii im the person w the previous Mizuki ask, im not rlly good at asks but could I request Mizuki + hot spring sex and praise? Im seriously obsessed with her

PERFECT STRANGER

˓𓄹 ࣪˖ it’s scientifically proven that regular hot springs visit can make your body healthier - the benefits seemingly increase when the main shareholder for the bath house you visit the most keeps you company.

tw implied ill reader (projecting much..) even if nothing is specified, sickly sex hear me out… dubcon-ish, first meeting hook ups, porn WITH plot (i love writing wlw..) very condescending dom!mizuki (sub mizu here), slight exhibitionism, yandere tendencies if u squint. 1.6k words

a/n she’s so cutesy why does her kit have to suck </3 also just noticed that in one of her voice lines she talks abt how awkward it is to have conversation with a stranger .. queen sorry for making u ooc .. this is so long and the ending’s a bit messy </3

spring can’t come fast enough. you’re sick of the constant rain and snow in inazuma - your body’s not reacting positively either. the pumping headache you’ve had the last couple days doesn’t seem to go away, your nose is still stuffy, and your cheeks are flushed. you’re not too worried though, this has happened before: every winter, to be fair. you figured long ago that your probably have a shitty immune system, and you’ve acted accordingly: regular check ups, health treatments, massages and countless evenings spent at the local bath house.

growing up in inazuma, visits to the hot springs were never a surprise, so much so that the current owner of aisa bath house knows your name by heart, even making small conversation as you deposit your mora for their services. “still sick?” aikawa, the owner, asks. you sniffle in reply, murmuring something about how it’s just the usual winter fever. he chuckles, before handing you a soft towel and speaking up once more. “y’know, miss mizuki is visiting today. she’s back from natlan, came here to check up on how the baths are doing.” “mizuki?”, your eyes perk up in curiosity. “haha, yes! miss mizuki, one of your best investors. be careful, yeah? she can be a bit peculiar at times.” you just nod - your head’s killing you and you feel like passing out any second by now.

once you undress and prepare your body accordingly to the bath house instructions - which you know by heart by now, you wrap a towel around your body. before noticing it, you find yourself checking out your reflection in the mirror, wondering about this miss mizuki, how’s she like, and what did aikawa even mean by peculiar? you sigh, moving your attention to fixing up the towel, which is, as always, short, maybe too short this time. well, whatever, it must be one of the new changes implemented by the shareholders.

as you slowly walk over the main bath you feel your skin heat up once more, head growing dizzy in seconds. when you manage to sit down in the bath you let out a sigh you didn’t know you were holding - your eyes close in relaxation while the foggy atmosphere entrances your mind. it’s so warm, so peaceful and - "oh, didn’t know someone was here already.” a calm, peaceful voice interrupts your pensive state. you lethargically turn around, not recognizing your interlocutor.

a girl stands in front of you, blue-ish hair tucked into a bun, deep, spiraling eyes staring back at you. her skin is of a milky, ghostly even, white, smooth and soft, wrapped in the same towel you’re using. despite your feverish mind you can still figure that it’s a bit too short on her too, hugging her dreamy figure in all the right places. “ah, uhm, don’t worry about it.” you stammer - maybe you’ve been staring at her a bit too long. you move away slightly, giving her space as she sits next to you. “you don’t look well.” her voice interrupts your train of thought - again. “my health is quite feeble. my doctor recommended i visit hot springs regularly.” your reply is curt, dry, a poor attempt to cover your irritation.

“my, that doesn’t sound good, miss.”, the lady replies. “you seem tense. would you like a massage? don’t worry, i hardly ever get sick.” her honeyed words go straight to your head, and, against your better judgment, you nod. she seems so sure of herself, so comforting, but at the same time so eerie and distant. as you turn around, back facing her, you feel her cold breath hitting the back of your neck, leaving goosebumps over your skin. suddenly, a pair of cold hands grabs your shoulders, and begins working on knots and tight muscles. your head slumps forward - a mixture of pleasure from her massage and the fever acting up once again. her cold fingers are magic against your burning skin, a greatly appreciated sense of relief.

“i’ve - ah!.. never seen you around here.” you speak up after a few seconds. an amused chuckle hits the back of your neck. “i was on a business trip in natlan, i returned here a few days ago.” her hands slide down your shoulder, gently grabbing your arms. "it’s a shame, really”, the lady continues, “that we haven’t met sooner.”she leans forward, placing her chin on your shoulder. her eyes scan your figure, then go back to look at your flushed face. her hazy, dreamy eyes meet yours, and you find yourself lost in the deep purple hue. “mizuki’s my name.” you almost don’t register the newfound information, almost don’t recognize her as the esteemed benefactor that keeps the bath house open, too mesmerized by something you just can’t figure out. mizuki giggles again, her smile soon replaced by a grin. her hands start moving again, up and down your upper arms, warming up your body even more. your breath becomes heavier, almost panting, and your eyes flutter shut, letting her do her thing.

her fingers start tracing the outline of your shoulders, then drop down to your back, where you’ve messily wrapped your towel. in a swift motion, the piece of fabric falls, leaving you exposed. she presses herself further onto your back, before reaching out to untie her own towel. a flimsly piece of satin now shields your back from her breasts, but you can still feel her plush skin with no issue. mizuki’s hands move back to your shoulders, keeping up the slow, sensual strokes. then, they drop down to your chest, feeling the weight of your own mounds with her very own hands. it takes a few moments for mizuki to grow bolder with her touches, now squeezing the fat of your tits with little to no regard for the whines you started letting out. her cool fingers are torture against your nipples, throbbing and swollen because of the sensation play. your back arches, and you throw your head back, getting dizzier with every move.

with one final squeeze, mizuki stops groping you for a second, just enough to hear you whine and plead to just keep touching you. “oh my, you’re so cute. i’ll make you feel all better, ‘kay? let me take care of you.” she litters small kisses all over your shoulder blades, as one hand starts rubbing your nipple again, and the other slowly makes way to your cunt. her fingers poke your soft cunny, feeling the sticky sensation of your juices even under the water. her pointer finger nudges closer and closer to your clit, rubbing agonizingly slow circles onto it, mirroring the motion of her other hand circling around your nipple. you can’t think straight - you don’t know if it’s the fever or mizuki’s fault, though. her middle finger moves too, pressing itself against your hole. when you give her a meek nod, she enters you, immediately feeling your tight walls flutter around her finger.

she begins pumping her finger in and out of you, gradually going faster and eventually adding another digit. you’re panting, everything’s spinning and you feel so dizzy, but oh, mizuki feels so good. her tongue is licking long stripes across your neck, her nipples pressed snugly against the arch of your back. this is too much - she is too much - and you squirm out of her grasp, turning around to meet her face to face. she thinks you’re so cute. your hair’s all messy, sticking to your forehead, pupils dilated and saliva staining your lips. she knows what you need. and she’ll give it to you.

she lounges forward, throwing the satin towel away and exposing her full body to you, before gently pressing you to the ground. as soon as you’re sprawled across the floor, she climbs on top of you, lips engulfing yours, muffling your sniffles and whines. your chests are pressed together, her soft tits moving against yours, lubricated with both sweat and steam. mizuki chuckles when she feels your nipples poking hers, amused by how much you’re affected by this. she separates from you, letting you catch your breath for a second. “you doin’ okay, cutie?”, she speaks. her voice is even softer, lower, just a whisper meant to be heard only by you. you’re not focusing on her, too overwhelmed by your heightened, feverish senses. mizuki’s nice, too nice, she won’t even reprimand you for not answering. she just lowers her pussy onto yours, both of your sticky folds squelching against one another. “hehe, don’t worry, angel, i’ll make you feel all better.”

she starts moving, riding your poor cunny to oblivion, taking delight in your moans. you’re going dumb, so overwhelmed, unable to do anything but be still and let mizuki fuck you. the more her clit bumps into yours the louder and dumber you get - uncaring about how the door’s so thin, and anyone could walk in at any moment. “cutie, are you going to cum? ‘m not going anywhere.” her voice is honey for your poor, sick brain, stimuli going straight to your cunt. you nod, tears spilling out of your eyes. “shh, it’s okay, you’ll get all better soon, do you trust me?” she gets closer to you, tongue licking your tears away. she feels your pussy twitch against her, your own fluids squirting on her tummy. she cums quickly after, feeding on your own orgasm.

before mizuki can even say anything, though, you’re passed out, the fever taking its toll on you. she just smiles, and wipes the sweat off of you with a stray towel. she’s a psychologist after all, she knows this is much needed rest for you, so waking you up is out of the question. she slowly dresses you up again, and calls over one of the female employees working at the moment. mizuki just gives her instructions to leave you to rest at your house before discharging her. she hopes you’ll remember her, and not dismiss her as just a character in your dreams.

well, even if you do, she’ll come to visit you. again and again, no matter how much it takes.

#writing #x reader #smut #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin x you #genshin smut #genshin impact smut #genshin thirst #yumemizuki mizuki x reader #mizuki x reader #mizuki smut #mizuki thirst #sapphic nsft #wlw nsft #tw dubcon #cw dubcon

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criminallyvenomous · 2 days ago

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Anytime, Always - Spencer Reid X Reader (part four)

part three story masterlist

•Plot - When Dr. Reid came to speak at your University, you were thrilled. A big-time F.B.I. agent at your own school, how could you resist? Soon, that wasn’t the only thing you couldn’t resist. Random meet ups and nights together were fun at first, but when he started guest lecturing on a regular? That was a whole new experience.

•Ship - Spencer Reid X Reader

•Fandom - Criminal Minds

•Warnings - Age gap (legal consenting adults), Alcohol, Fluff, Eventual smut, Pining, and of course a warning you might fall for Spence even harder post reading)

•Word Count - 569

•A/N - ik its short im sorry!!! it was hard to find a stopping point. still working on the longer next chapter but second session classes started this week at my uni and im still catching up on midterms so im swamped lmao. its also hard bc im debating smut or not in that chapter. six will be the start of prof! spence tho..

This was all new to Spencer. He hadn’t ever done something so ‘casual’. He hadn’t even ever had sex with someone who he didn’t really care for, not that he wasn’t starting to care for you. It’s just that drinking and sleeping together was more of a Derek Morgan thing, not a Spencer Reid thing. He’s beginning to think he’s in over his head. Maybe he should just call up the ‘ladykiller’ while you’re getting the Chinese.

“What’s up, playa?”

“Hey, Morgan. I think I’m a little out of my depth here.” Spencer admitted.

“What do you mean? You’re just visiting a ‘friend’, aren’t you?” He teased.

“I, um, may have-“

“I know, kid. What’s the problem?” Derek interrupted.

“I’ve never done something like this before.” Spencer confessed.

“Oh come on, you’ve had sex before, Spence.”

“I meant doing something so ‘relax’, something so casual.”

“Well, how did it happen the first time?”

“A good amount of alcohol.” Spencer said, making Derek chuckle.

“That’s called liquid courage, my friend. Well, do you like her?”

“Yeah, she’s great. It’s just that she’s young and we’re not like a couple or anything.” All Derek heard was the age comment.

“How young?” Derek pry-ed, Spencer could basically see his face right now.

“Don’t worry about it. I’m just gonna go.” Spencer was defeated, unsure of what to do.

“Hey, don’t put so much pressure on it. Just feel it out and do what feels right.”

“I have no idea how to do that.” Spencer chuckled and Derek did too.

“I know, kid. Just try. I mean, the date’s been going well, right?”

“Yeah, it’s been great.”

“Then don’t change anything. You’re great as you are, Reid.”

With the boost of confidence from his much more experienced friend, Spencer tried to swallow his pride. Plus, he was definitely going to seriously consider the ‘liquid courage’ that helped him out last time.

“Garlic tofu with rice for two and as many spring rolls we could get.” You did a little ‘ta-da’ motion as you approached the doctor.

“It smells amazing, it’s interesting though. This restaurant is supposed to be Chinese but has Vietnamese and Japanese options on the menu, like Pho and Ramen.” Spencer analyzed.

“You’re right. I guess most Americans don’t really notice the difference.”

“Awh, is this for me?” You asked as you took off your shoes along with Spencer.

The two of you went up to his hotel room on the third floor, upon entering you saw two stemmed glasses and a nice bottle of white wine on the nightstand.

“I asked room service for it. I figured it would be a step-up from the mini-fridge screw top.” He stated, walking up to pour the wine. You put your hand on his back.

“You’re the best, Spence.” You smiled, then realized. “Sorry, I meant Spencer. It just slipped out.”

“Don’t apologize. My friends call me that, too. Have to say, though, it sounds better coming from you.” He turned to hand you your glass.

God, he was sweet, funny, smart, and downright gorgeous. You didn’t care if you’d be stuck with meeting up every few months for a day or night together, it’d be worth it. You took a drink from your glass and looked over to Spencer.

“That’s so much better.” You both laughed and set the glass down on the nightstand closest to you.

#spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid imagines #spencer reid smut #spencer reid criminal minds #doctor spencer reid #spencer reid #spencer reid x you #criminal minds fic #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds imagine #Spotify

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stardustedseas · 2 days ago

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someday ill be able to write when and what i want and not randomly at 2 am but today is not that day ig im so sorry

nsfw 18+

cw: hybrids, dub con, afab genitals but no pronouns, slight overstimulation, shitty writing lmao

dog hybrid jayce

imagine jayce being your big, dumb doggy hybrid pet who is the most cuddly affectionate being youve ever met, always wanting to cuddle you, lay on you, have ypu pet him, just be near you in general. he is like those saint benards who think theyre lap dogs lmao its next to impossible to be alone with him around or stop him once he's decided he needs to spawl out on your lap. you did get him for how loving he is though, its nice to have someone who loves you so much, but there are still times it can be Very frustrating. sometimes you just need to be alone, have a moment to yourself without your overgrown puppy clinging to you 24/7.

although hes whiney about it, you can usually get a couple hours alone by locking yourself in the bedroom, its an at least once a week thing at this point, but jayce still sits outside the door for half of it whining and clawing at the wood before he goes to pout on the couch. youve gotten good at ignoring him honestly, as mean as that sounds. you know he is just being dramatic and its good for both of you to have some time apart, even if just for the fact it keeps you from getting too overwhelmed and lashing out at him.

usually you lock the door, spend thirty minutes to an hour ignoring his pathetic whimpering until he finally gives up and you can truly have some peace and quiet. you often take those times to destress as well, getting comfortable under the covers and letting your hands wander instead of his for once. usually you wait until hes left before starting, but god youve just had such a long, shitty day and you really need to get this pent up frustration out before you explode. jayce is still outside your door begging to be let in like always when you give in and slip your hand below the waist band of your pants. honestly, you were worried the sound of jayce outside would keep you from actually being able to actually get off, but the way his voice hightens to that needy, raspy whine he always gets when you shut him out, just does something to you this time. you do feel guilty for using his voice without him knowing, but its surprisingly getting you there faster than any porn has, and the sooner you finish, the sooner you can go back to letting him curl up on you.

this only goes on for so long though. jayce is a very big, very strong man and theres only so much a door can take. his insistant wiggling of the handle is too much and the abused metal finally gives way, allowing him to swing the door open and bound into the room, throwing himself on you before you even know whats happening. you try yelling at him to get out, squirming around and shove at his broat chest but your bear of a puppy ignores your commands and instead clings to you, wrapping his burly arms around you from over the covers and pressing you into the mattress with his weight. this must be some kind of fucked up karmic justice.

eventually you give up your struggles, embarrassed he basically caught you masterbating and frustrated from accidentally edging yourself, but decide it's best to just let him get his hugs in before trying to escape again. you sigh and try to relax, hands laying by your sides on the blacket. its not much, but you feel some satisfaction that even if he ruined your alone time, you don't have to fully give in and pretty him to. not getting to cum must not have been punishment enough though because soon jayce is back to whining, grippinhg your wrist and trying to force you to let his fluffy ears. even worse still, he had grabbed your dominant hand, the one that was just knuckle deep inside your slick walls moments ago. that spurs you into action again, trying to yank your arm back from where it was dangerously close to his hair.

this obviously upsets poor jayce though, why are you being so cruel to him? he just wants pats from his beloved owner :( he counters your movements, instead moving his head down to your hand so its cupping his cheek. he has just begun another tantrum when all of a sudden he freezes, the grip on your wrist getting a fraction tighter. you also stop for a moment, confused at his sudden change before hes yanking your hand to his nose with much more force than youre used to from him and taking in a deep, shaky inhale. you let out an admittedly indignafied squack and feel your cheeks heat up, now using your other hand to try tugging him back by his hair. this unfortunately does not help at all.

his eyes snap up to meet yours at that, gaze much darker and headier than expected and youre taken aback by how much his pupils have dilated to almost overtake the usual golden hue. you dont feel unsafe, but you do feel like youve just been spotted by a predator right before being eaten. which isnt completely untrue. neither of you move for a second, just staring, before jayce tilts his head into your hand, this time instead of to his nose, he brings your fingers to his mouth, wet tongue laving over the smaller digits. the groan he lets out the second they touch his pink muscle is downright sinful, deep and almost animalistic. he once again looks up at you, voice now a breathy rasp as he asks what was all over your hand.

youre honestly not sure what to say to that, just staring at him with your mouth slightly ajar in shock, but jayce doesn't seem to notice how mortified you are and goes back to licking at your hand. your brain finally catches up to the moment and you are able to rip yourself free from his grasp and sit up, forcing him to move as well, now just kneeling above you. that was definitely a mistake though, because he caught another whiff of that addictive scent and he's pretty sure he found the source. before you're able to get out of bed, jayce has the plush fat of your thighs in a tight grip and is yanking them apart, quickly shuffling down so his face is much closer to where you want him least in the moment.

you try to leave again, snapping a harsh no! bad boy! but this only makes him flinch a little, too entranced to really take in what you're saying besides the tone. this doesn't stop him though, moving to nuzzle his nose into your damp underwear and taking in a deep breath, his tongue lolling out of his mouth into a pant. it doesnt seem like jayce is even paying attention more, because despite your yelp and now free hands tugging his hair and pushing at his forehead, he continues his exploration. it really hits you just how strong he is, you are putting your entire being into trying to shove him away but he doesnt budge an inch, big hands still holding your legs apart despite how hard youre trying to close them.

it feels like despite your best efforts, your body is a filthy betrayer because as jayce continues to shove his nose deeper between your folds from over your underwear, you can feel them getting wetter and not just from his saliva. its when you let out a strained moan does your beloved hybrid move again, his hips bucking forward into the mattress so hard it shakes the bed. that first thrust broke the flood gates because he is now continuously rocking into the mattress, desperately humping as he licks and slobers all over your already ruined panties. youre greatful they werent one of your nicer ones when he snags the fabric between his teeth as he yanks his head back, tearing right through the slimsy fabric with a loud rip!

you yelp out his name, hands tightening in his hair again as he dives back in, your poor cunt no longer protected by the thin cloth. even though jayce has no rhythm or technique, his enthusiasm definitely makes up for it with the way he is desperately lapping all over, going from licking all around your outer lips before moving to burying his tongue deep into your hole, his nose bumping into your clit with each turn of his head as he tries to get deeper, lapping up as much slick as he can. god this is so fucked up, youre letting your hybrid pet eat you out when he obviously doesnt really know what hes doing, just chasing something that tastes good. you cant find it in yourself to really try to make him stop though, not with how good he feels as your pathetic moans harmonize with how hes whining and growling into you, his fingers definitely leaving bruisess from how hard hes gripping your thighs but you still dont care much.

maybe it's from how pent up you were, how you had unwillingly edged yourself earlier, or just from how hot jayce looks fucking into the blankets, his fluffy tail swiftly wagging behind him, but its not long before youre crying out, tugging on the soft ears atop his head as your whole body stiffness before you relax into a mess of trembles. you cumming still doesn't stop jayce though, he is still sucking and slurping away with just as much abandon as before, maybe even more so after having seen the way your back arched and you gushed more slick into his waiting mouth. you try to once more push him away, shakily gasping that its too much, youre too sensitive, but he still doenst halt.

it feels like your whole body is on fire now, unable to stop the way you keep jerking fowards and wriggling as tears prick the corner of your eyes. the way his tongue is caressing your insides and his nose continues to rub the bundle of nerves quickly turns from a slightly unpleasant pleasure to an agonizing overstimulation. you are about to try kicking him when jayce suddenly stops and lets out a strained whine, his hips stuttering to a more stiff roll before stopping, his body now shaking slightly as well. the room is now almost silent besides the hushed sound of both of your heavy panting, jayces breath fanning against your heated flesh and cooling mess between your thighs. he takes one last huff of your scent and nuzzle into the now damp curls on your mound before he is crawling back up your body and popping down over you again.

part of you wants to slap him upside the head and kick him out of your room for doing all of that, but the second his eyes lock with yours and you see his softened gaze and dopey smile, cheeks a mess of slick and spit, you decided the intense reprimanding hes gonna get can wait until later

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~♡

im so sorry idk why the only thing i can actually complete is smut despite sucking balls at smut lawkjejdhf was working on the michael nsfw but got blasted with doggy jayce so here we are

#jayce talis x reader #arcane x reader #if you followed me for gravity falls im genuinely so sorry aiwojwhehf #i do not control the speed at which i jump hyperfixations 😔#tma still going strong but got the occasional arcane brainrot #what i post next is a mystery to me too

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