mmmunson

[mmmunson]

[mmmunson]

Hii jade idk if this is something you would be into but ive been reading all of ur hotch fics that include a relationship with jack and reader and i was wondering if you would be interested in writing for a hotch and ex!reader fic, where reader and jack have a really really close relationship and hotch even depends on her to look after him at times if necessary. I was thinking she comes to pick up jack at the office and everyone is like we didnt know you were seeing someone???? And hes like im not but theres very obvious tension and heart eyes being shared between the two.

thank you for requesting ❤︎ fem, 2k words

You don’t see any of the BAU agents that you’d recognise in the office today, but it's alright, ‘cos you’ve spotted your boy. Jack Hotchner sits at a crowded desk that could only be Spencer’s with a glass of water held in both hands. He tips it up, drinking feverishly, a stream of it dripping down his front to wet his raglan t-shirt. 

You haven’t come by the office in a long time. Not since you and Aaron were dating, it must’ve been a year ago or more the last time you made it up for a rare lunch date. It had been quiet, then, his new agent Emily sent with Spencer to do some work with their tech girl. You’d smiled at Derek on the way in, you remember. Laughed at his joke about your ring finger looking a little light. 

You hide your hands behind your back. “Oh, hey, sweet boy,” you say, your voice carrying. You’ve no need for false cheer —it’s been too long since you saw Jack. You have no excuses. 

His head comes up at the sound of your voice. When he finds you making your way to the desks, he slides his cup down over the table and slips from his chair, unspeaking as he crosses the room to fling himself at your thighs. 

You bend down to kiss his hair. “Hi,” you say, kissing it again. Two quick ones. “Hi, Jack.” 

“Hi,” he says, matching your quiet tone. He feels trembly and strange in your arms, like he’s shaking. 

“Hi.” You loop your arms around his shoulders. He’s slender as a bird, but taller than the last time you’d hugged him. The silence drags, Jack’s hands screwed into fists in your jeans. “Sorry it’s been so long since I last saw you,” you whisper, for his ears alone, “I didn’t mean to get so busy.”

“Everyone is busy.”

“I know. But it doesn’t mean I didn’t miss you.” 

Pleased with this, Jack pulls away from you, and when he speaks he’s regained some of his volume, “Dad said I can stay with you for a sleepover only if you want me to.” 

“I want you to.” 

He beams. Offering a hand for the taking, Jack pulls you to Spencer’s desk and retrieves his blue backpack from the chair, its front a bright plastic print of SpongeBob and Patrick. He makes you take it, and you swing it over your shoulder. 

“Let’s go,” he says. 

“Wait a second, you gotta go up and say bye to your dad.” You wish you could send him up alone, dread a solid rock in your tummy that shifts to hurt with every breath. “Come on, lead the way.” 

As you’re going, Emily and Rossi catch sight of you on their way back from the kitchen. “Who’s that?” Emily asks, to which Rossi says, “How should I know?”

“You know who she looks like? Hotch has that photo on his lock screen…” 

You miss the conversation that begins between them, a step behind Jack as he enters Aaron’s office without knocking. His dad quickly looks up from his laptop and gives the phone by his ear a readjustment. “I’ll call you back,” he promises, putting it down. 

Something cruel twists around in your gut wondering who it is. Could be anybody. Just as easily a colleague as a friend as a new girl. 

“Dad, we’re going.” 

Aaron stands from his chair. “Thank you,” he says to you, so obviously stuck as to what to say next that anger pricks the back of your neck. You swallow every last bit of it down. 

“I told you whenever you need me to, didn’t I?” You get a look at him. Eyebags darker than ever, he’s skinny, tired, everything you hate to see. “Are you taking care of yourself?” 

Where you’d expected to see anger, regret colours Aaron’s stance. He holds the back of his chair and sighs. “Of course I am.” 

You cross an arm over your stomach. That morning, getting dressed, you’d decided to wear something that might make him want you back, even though you know he wants you back. Something that might make him braver, then. Or kinder, more agreeable to what you need. You’re wearing the silver chain he bought you, just so he knows you still have it, over a leather-type jacket and his favourite pair of jeans. It felt good at the time and childish now, because he’s not doing any better without you, and you miss him so much you might fold first. 

“He asked to stay the night. What time do you want me to bring him back?” you ask. 

“What time were you thinking?” 

You let Jack drift into your hip. His small nose is surprisingly pointy. “I’d keep him forever if I could.” 

The stumble in your voice doesn’t go unnoticed. He smiles weakly. “Yeah, I know. You’re good that way.” 

Jack tips his head back to force your gaze on him, “Yeah, ‘cos dad says you’re good as gold.” 

Your smile wavers. “Does he?” you ask carefully. 

Aaron used to tell you that sort of stuff all the time. He had a way of picking a turn of phrase that you miss. He loved that one especially in his softest moments, tear stained and sniffling against him or smiling at something he’d said, he’d declare it, like everybody should’ve known it too. You’re good, he’d say, caressing your cheek, you’re as good as gold, honey. 

“Why don’t we say midday, honey?” 

“Okay.” You try not to give your own sermon on the way he uses the pet name, but it’s no use. He says honey like it’s yours, doesn’t matter that the last time you saw him you told him he doesn’t get to say he loves you, what use was that, any of it, when he wouldn’t step up to the plate. 

Listen, it’s not that you need to get married. There’s a part of you that thinks marriage is special, and there’s a part of you that knows it’s a license rather than any solid proof of things, but what you needed most from Aaron was commitment. Even if he promised it once out loud that you were permanent, and that he was going to be careful. But you’d asked and he’d hesitated and your reconciliation is about as near as a lily flower is to the arctic circle. 

“Jack, can you give us two minutes?” you ask, holding up two fingers. 

Jack looks out the door. “Can I go see JJ?” 

“Sure, sweetheart,” Aaron says, “come and give me a hug, okay? We’ll say bye now.” 

Jack does his flinging thing and ends up pulled to Aaron’s stomach. Rough hands spread over a short back, dulcet murmuring of love yous and miss yous lost in blonde hair. 

Jack leaves. Aaron is glad you’ve asked for time alone, it couldn’t be more obvious, with or without his training in psychic evaluation. You decide tiredly to take a seat in front of his desk, waiting for him to sit himself before you offer any more to him. 

He grips the edge of his desk between his finger and thumb.

“I didn’t mean to ignore your call,” you confess. Calls.  

He nods. 

“I was sleeping. Then…” 

“You don’t have to explain.” 

“I don’t want you to think I don’t want  to be with you, Aaron,” you say, careful again. “I want it a lot. And I’m angry with you because you don’t want it like I do.”

“You know I want that, too.”

“You don’t, though. I told you, either you start to look after yourself, or I go. And you aren’t looking any better.” 

“Well, missing you does this to me.” 

He says it with a sincerity that has you wincing.

“Don’t say it like that, like I’m making it worse,” you say, nearly glaring, “I’m trying to fix it. You work all the time and I thought I could understand it, but it’s not about missing you, it’s literally that you expect me to sit at home watching you work yourself to death, while Jack–” You cut yourself off short. Take a deep breath. “Sorry. I know you aren’t hurting Jack. Aren’t trying to hurt Jack, but...” 

Your murmuring sets off his own, “You can be angry with me, I deserve it.”

“I don’t know how much longer I can do this. You own up to your mistakes but you don’t change. I can’t– I don’t even know what this is, but I can’t do it forever. I need you to…” You stare down at your lap. “Need you to fix this.” 

“I’m–” He bites his tongue. Then opens his mouth, speechless for a time. “I will. I’ll fix it.” 

“Will you?”

“I’ll fix it.”

You feel like you could fall to pieces in his arms, but you need him to do what he’s promising you, and crying while he rubs your back won’t help. “I’m so angry at you,” you say.

“I know.” 

You want him to say he loves you. He braces his hand on the desk.

In the bullpen, JJ holds Jack on her hip and tries to direct his attention to her, while the rest of the team turn their ears to the open door, listening. 

“Not his girlfriend, then?” Emily asks. 

Aaron moves toward you. Through the window, they watch as he chucks you gently under the chin. You move your face from his touch, speaking too quietly to hear from down here. 

“Are they fighting?” Jack mumbles. 

“No, honey, they’re not fighting, just talking.” 

“I’m going with her to sleep there,” he says. “For a sleepover. Dad said so.”

“Wow! What are you gonna do at the sleepover?” 

(It’s brave of Aaron to try and touch you when you’re divided. You’re both being brave. You’re honest with him. Anyone looking at you both can see how badly you want to give in, which makes it tough to watch as you stand and gather yourself away from him.) 

Your smile is shaky as you descend the steps from the landing, but it strengthens when Jack perks up. 

“Hi,” you say, greeting the agents that have circled around him with some renewed timidity. “Ready to go, baby?” 

“Can I say bye to dad again?” he asks. 

JJ sets him down. “As many times as you want,” you promise. 

Jack rushes back to his dads office. You watch as he trips over himself, and as Aaron comes to meet him by the door for a hug that turns meandering. 

“Be good, okay? And remember what we talked about, yeah?” He strokes his hair back to meet Jack’s eye. 

“What did we talk about?” 

“That she’s not mad at you, Jack. Only me. Okay?”

You wish you could hate him, but all you have is love and the urge to block his number. At least you get a night with your boy, sweet as he is.

Aaron catches your eye from above. His wan face fills with a determination that has your heart in a tumble —it feels like a promise, like the next time Jack comes to stay, he could come with him. All Aaron has to do is take a break. 

(You take Jack’s hand again and lead him out of the offices, and Aaron dials Strauss’ number. He’s not stupid enough to think that a month of vacation days can fix the things that are hurting you, nor could the simple promise ring with the pear-drop diamond that sits hiding in his desk, but he has to start somewhere, and he has to start now.)

(In the car, Jack asks if you’ll be coming home soon. You’re brave enough to tell him any day now.) 

[mmmunson]

Introduction to mmmunson

chronicle online. chronicle obsessed. fangirl4life.

I'm molly! / mmmunson / luvygrimes .

a march pisces, who's never learned to love casually <3 ( functioning tumblr addiction)

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[mmmunson]

[mmmunson]

Fatherless -S.R

Spencer Reid x Hotch’s daughter!reader

You hadn’t even wanted to stop by his office.

You were going to be late as it was—college friends already texting you asking where the hell you were, what you were wearing, if you were bringing anyone. And you'd been so damn close to skipping the good-daughter act, the polite goodbye before you threw yourself into basslines and tequila. But no. You always gave him that one last ounce of consideration.

Which made it worse.

Because you saw it—his hand on Emily’s hip, his head tipped low near her ear, the way she smiled like she had any right to. Your jaw clenched, fingers going numb around your phone.

Your chest twists painfully. She was your goddamn boss. Your dad’s subordinate. She was also kind, brilliant, and everything your mother was before years of neglect drained the life out of her.

It wasn’t even about Emily. Not really. It was about the way he touched her, softly, reverently—like he used to touch your mom.

Like he never touched you anymore. Not even in that gentle, fatherly way.

You hadn’t expected to cry in the elevator. But of course, you hadn’t expected to see your father practically pressed against Emily Prentiss’ desk either—his hand on her waist, her laugh soft and secretive, his expression the closest to affection you’d seen in months.

Maybe years.

Your heels clacked across the bullpen floor in staccato, and you swore someone called your name—but you didn’t stop. You threw open the elevator doors, jabbed the button for the lobby, and stepped inside like you were fleeing a fire. Because in a way, you were. The look on your dad’s face when you turned around, that half-step he took out of the office when he realized what you'd seen. But you were faster.

The elevator doors shut on his voice.

The elevator jolted to a stop on the next floor down, and—of course—it was him. Spencer Reid. Of fucking course. The universe has a sick sense of humor.

He stepped inside, trench coat half-draped across one arm, messenger bag slung over his shoulder. “Hey. You okay?”

You turned your head away from him, scrubbing furiously under your eyes.

“Are you stalking me now Reid?” Your voice was sharp, but it cracked halfway through.

The doors slid shut. He shifted slightly closer to you as the elevator began its slow descent. “No, but I’m observant. It’s sort of in the job description.”

You laughed bitterly and kept your gaze trained on the floor numbers lighting up above the door. “Then you already know what I saw.”

“I saw you come out of your dad’s office. Did something—” he pauses, voice turning cautious, “did he yell at you again?”

You laugh bitterly, crossing your arms. “No. Guess he was too busy with Emily’s tongue down his throat.”

Spencer’s brows lift. His body straightens.

“They were—wait. Seriously?”

You nod, eyes flicking to him with venom. “Like, actually flirting. Like touching. Like she’s not just his coworker but his new thing now.” You sniff, clenching your jaw. “And my mom’s at home alone while he’s giving someone else all that attention she begged him for.”

You slump back against the elevator wall and glance at him, your voice quieter now. “I know they’re divorced. I know. But it’s not about him moving on. It’s about him doing it while still pretending I’m not even there. Like… I remind him of her, so it’s easier to just ignore me too.”

You draw in a slow breath, steadying yourself—but your eyes still burn and your fists are clenched at your sides. The image of your dad’s hand on Emily’s waist won’t stop looping through your mind like a cruel highlight reel.

“I’m sorry you saw that,” Spencer says at last, voice low and cautious.

You let out a sharp laugh. “Why? Because I interrupted their little office romance? Or because now I know why he can’t even look me in the eye half the time?”

“No,” Spencer says instantly, stepping a little closer, his shoulder brushing yours. “Because it hurt you.”

You stiffen, throat tightening. “It shouldn’t matter this much, right? I’m an adult. I should be happy he’s—moving on. But it just makes me feel like…” You trail off, forcing the words down. You don’t want to cry in front of him. Not when it feels like the only time anyone even looks at you is when you're breaking.

Spencer hesitates. You can feel the weight of his thoughts again, the tension rolling off him. Then he speaks—softer now, like he’s afraid of how much he means it.

“You shouldn’t have to beg for attention from your own father.”

That strikes something inside you—something hot and raw and aching. You glance over at him sharply. “What would you know about fathers?”

Spencer flinches slightly, but doesn’t pull away. “More than you’d think.”

And that… that settles between you differently. There’s no pity in his voice, no condescension—just shared damage. A mirror of your own, cracked in a different place.

The elevator dings softly, pausing on a floor neither of you had requested. No one’s waiting. The doors slide closed again, giving you both a moment of suspended reality. Just you and him.

Your voice drops, hushed. “He loved my mom once. You could tell by the way he looked at her. And then he stopped. And now he looks at Emily like that. And I just—I hate it. I hate how easily he gives his affection to other people. Like I don’t even fucking exist.”

A silence stretches between you—laced with grief, “I don’t want to go home like this,” you murmur finally.

Spencer shifts slightly, eyes scanning your face. “Then don’t. Come to my place. Just for a while.”

You blink. “What?”

“You don’t have to be alone with this. You shouldn’t be.” He softens, and for the first time in weeks, someone’s looking at you like you matter. “Come over. I’ll make tea and cry if you want to.”

“I’m not going to cry,” you lie.

He doesn’t call you on it. Just offers a quiet smile and steps closer, brushing your hand with his fingers. “Then you can just sit there and tell me everything you’ve been holding in. Or we don’t talk at all. Either way—I don’t want you driving like this.”

You hesitate for one beat.

Then nod. “Okay.”

The elevator dings again, this time at the lobby.

Spencer steps out first, casting a glance back over his shoulder to make sure you’re still with him. You follow, silent, still wrapped in the anger and grief—but now something else is threaded through it.

Because when Spencer opens the car door for you, and you slide in beside him, there’s a moment where your knees touch—and neither of you moves. And when he reaches over to buckle your seatbelt, his hand lingers a fraction too long at your shoulder. And when you turn your head to thank him, his eyes are already on your lips.

This night is far from over.

His apartment was dimly lit, warm with soft yellow light and shelves upon shelves of books you could drown in. He let you in without saying much, his movements quiet and careful.

“I can make tea,” he offered, already walking toward the kitchen.

“You think I’m overreacting,” you said, turning to face him fully. “Don’t you?”

“No.” He looked at you, really looked. “I think you’re hurt. And you’re angry. And you should be.”

“I stayed with him after the divorce. I thought—God, I thought maybe if I stayed, he’d at least see me. That maybe I’d be enough to matter. But I look like her. And I think that’s why he stopped talking to me too.”

Reid didn’t speak. He just stepped forward. And when his hand touched your cheek, it was so gentle it made your heart ache.

“You matter to me.”

Spencer stepped closer, his voice low. “You’re not just angry about them. Are you?”

You turned your head slowly toward him, the venom in your gaze starting to melt into something else. Lust. Pain. Both.

“Don’t psychoanalyze me, Reid,” you said, but it lacked conviction.

He stepped closer. And closer. Until your back hit the wall and his chest was barely brushing yours.

“I’m not,” he whispered. “I just hate watching you pretend it doesn’t hurt.”

Your jaw clenched. “He left her. Left me. And now he’s… giving that to someone else? And I’m supposed to be fine with it?”

“You shouldn’t go out tonight,” he said softly.

“I’m not drunk yet.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

You tilted your head. “Then what did you mean?”

“I meant…” His voice dropped. “You’re angry. You’re vulnerable. And you’re looking for a distraction.”

You licked your lips, slow and deliberate, leaning into him. “The only distraction I’m looking for right now, is you”

“You sure?” he asked, breath shaky.

“Spencer,” you whispered, biting his lower lip, “if you don’t fuck me right now, I will go find someone else.”

You surged forward, hands grabbing fistfuls of his shirt, dragging him in like you needed his mouth just to breathe. The kiss was messy and brutal and devastatingly soft all at once—your grief bleeding into it, your rage and ache tangling in every movement.

He pushed you against the wall with more force now, mouth feverish, greedy. You didn’t realize you were moaning until he groaned in return, like the sound was some kind of trigger.

His hands slid under your dress, up your thighs, fingertips skimming higher until they found your lace panties.

“You wore these to the office?” he muttered against your throat, voice low and dark.

“Was going out after,” you gasped, rocking into his touch. “Didn’t know I’d end up here.”

You moaned as his hands slid up your legs, under your skirt, gripping your ass with bruising force as he hoisted you. You wrapped your legs around him without thinking, your back pressing hard to the wall as he carried you toward his bedroom like he was possessed.

He hooked a hand behind your knee and pulled your leg over his shoulder, dipping his head down between your thighs with zero hesitation. His tongue was hot and wet and filthy, and when he groaned against you like this was what he needed too, your head hit the pillow and your fingers dug into his hair like you were holding on for dear life.

He licked and sucked and devoured you, hands pinning your hips down so you couldn’t escape even if you wanted to. You came with a choked sound, thighs trembling, and he didn’t stop—just slowed, gentled, let you ride it out with his name on your lips and his mouth buried in your body.

When he finally rose, face slick, eyes dark, you grabbed him by the waistband of his pants and tugged. “Now. I need you now.”

He kissed his way back up your body, his lips swollen, his hair a mess. You barely had time to catch your breath before you reached down, hand wrapping around him—hard, thick, twitching against your palm.

His breath stuttered. “Jesus Christ—”

You grinned, rolling him onto his back, straddling his hips. “You said tonight was about me, right?”

He groaned, head falling back against the pillows. “You’re going to kill me.”

You leaned down and kissed him, slow and filthy. “Good.”

You sank down onto him in one smooth motion—and the sound he made was primal.

You rocked against him slowly, hips grinding as you set the pace—deep and delicious and possessive. Spencer’s hands gripped your waist, trying to control himself, but it was useless. You felt too good, too perfect, too right.

He thrust up to meet you, rhythm building, the room filled with panting breaths and broken curses.

“You feel—fuck—so good,” he rasped, hands roaming your back, your thighs. “I should’ve done this a long time ago.”

Your breath left your lungs in a rush, head tilting back with a whimper. He swore under his breath, gripping your hips like a lifeline.

“You feel like heaven,” he groaned.

You clenched around him involuntarily, a needy noise escaping your throat. “Don’t be sweet to me. Not tonight.”

You gasped, arms wrapping around his neck as he started to move—deliberate, punishing thrusts that hit every broken place in you and filled them with heat instead of grief. His mouth found your collarbone, your throat, your jaw. He was everywhere.

“You’re not invisible,” Spencer gasped, as if reading your thoughts. “You’re not replaceable. Not to me. Not ever.”

Your breath caught, and then your second orgasm hit, you clung to him, your nails raking his back, and his rhythm faltered as he groaned low in your ear.

“I’m close,” he rasped. “Tell me—tell me where.”

“Inside,” you whispered, dazed and wrecked. “I don’t care, just—fuck, just do it.”

His restraint crumbled. He came, hips stuttering, arms shaking as he buried himself deep and spilled into you. It was rough, messy, desperate—the kind of climax that felt more like a breakdown. Like a release you’d both been craving for far too long.

Your body trembled as you collapsed against him, chest pressed to his, skin hot and flushed and damp with sweat. For a long, breathless moment, neither of you moved—just your heartbeats thudding against one another

You swallowed the lump in your throat. Your voice was raw. “I didn’t mean for this to happen.”

“I know.”

“I just—” Your breath hitched. “I didn’t want to feel invisible tonight.”

“You weren’t.” He reached up, thumb stroking the skin just beneath your eye. “Not to me.”

That did it. A single tear slipped free before you could stop it. You moved to pull away, to hide your face, but Spencer sat up with you, arms still wrapped around your waist.

He caught your chin gently, guiding your eyes back to his. “Hey. Look at me.”

You did. And you wished you hadn’t. Because there was something devastatingly tender in his expression—like he’d seen you fractured and bleeding and still wanted every sharp piece.

“You don’t have to do that,” you whispered.

“Do what?”

“Make me feel better after fucking me.”

Spencer shook his head, eyes locked on yours. “I’m not doing this because I feel sorry for you. I’m doing it because I care about you. Because this…” His voice dropped, rough and weighted. “This wasn’t just about sex. Not for me, I care so much for you.”

You closed your eyes, his words settling into your bones.

Then you pulled the comforter up over both of you, his arms wrapping around you again as your head came to rest on his chest. His fingers found your spine and traced it lazily, grounding you with every pass.

The weight of the day didn’t vanish. The ache of your father’s distance, the sting of seeing him with someone else—it didn’t magically go away.

But here, in Spencer’s bed, wrapped up in the only person who’d made you feel real in weeks—it didn’t matter quite as much.

The digital clock on Spencer’s kitchen wall blinked 2:13 AM in quiet mockery.

You blinked back at it, mind spinning, the warmth of his hands still lingering on your skin like a second pulse. You didn’t mean to stay that long. You didn’t mean to stay at all. But he’d looked at you like you were worth hearing. Like you were worth touching.

Now the silence afterward buzzed loud in your ears, a different kind of adrenaline creeping in—because the fog was lifting and your dad was expecting you home. Hours ago.

“Shit,” you whispered, bolting upright and tugging your top back into place. Spencer’s arm moved lazily across the bed, fingers curling around your wrist like a silent stay—but you shook your head with a half-laugh.

“He’s gonna fucking kill me,” you muttered, sliding off the bed and grabbing your phone from the nightstand.

Spencer sat up slowly, still bare from the waist up, his hair tousled like sin and sleep. “Want me to call you a car?”

You nodded, trying not to stare at the light bruises blooming along your hips where his mouth had lingered like he meant it.

He smiled faintly, slipping from the bed to walk you out. “Text me when you get in?”

You paused in the doorway, heart pounding again—but this time for a different reason. You looked back at him, eyes scanning the way his lips were still kiss-bitten and red. “You’re not going to pretend this didn’t happen, are you?”

Spencer’s eyes sharpened, his voice low. “Not a chance.”

You didn’t trust yourself to answer that—so you just left.

The air was cooler than you expected when you stepped out of the car, the soft click of your heels echoing against the driveway. You tilted your head back toward the night sky and groaned, the stars overhead mocking you with their indifference.

Of course the kitchen light was still on.

Because why wouldn’t it be?

“Oh come on,” you hissed, dragging a hand down your face. You tossed a glare skyward like the universe might answer for its crimes. “Why do you hate me?” you muttered under your breath. “Was I a dictator in a past life?”, dragging your fingers through your hair as you yanked your keys from the depths of your bag.

You were already hours late. Technically, you weren’t supposed to be out at all—not on a weekday, not when you were living under your father’s roof again for the semester and interning at the BAU. You weren’t even supposed to be drinking, let alone fucking one of his agents.

Oops.

You opened the door with a practiced silence, the kind you’d perfected years ago as a teenager—before parties, sneaking in from dates, trying not to wake him when he was fresh off a case. The door clicked softly behind you, and you set your bag down with practiced ease.

You freeze, fingers tightening on the strap of your bag. One voice is his. Low. Familiar. Controlled in the way only someone like him can be while still audibly enjoying himself.

The other? High. Feminine. Smooth. Emily fucking Prentiss.

Your spine straightened.

Oh, fuck that.

Your feet carried you forward before your brain could stop them, steps slow and deliberate as you crossed the living room and padded toward the kitchen. The light pooled out into the hallway like a spotlight waiting for you to walk into it.

You rounded the corner. And there they were.

Aaron Hotchner and Emily Prentiss, sitting side-by-side at the kitchen island with drinks in hand, paperwork spread between them like some domestic goddamn dream. He was leaning just close enough to count as familiar, smiling at something she’d said. Emily’s legs were crossed elegantly, her fingers curled around the stem of her wine glass, laughter still dancing in her eyes.

Your father’s head turned at the sound of your steps.

Emily’s did too.

You didn’t stop walking until you stood just inside the threshold.

You didn’t look at her.

You looked straight at your father.

And then you said it.

“I had sex with Spencer,” you said calmly.

A full beat of silence.

“I thought you should know,” you add, voice cold and surgical. “Since we’re sharing things now.”

Your dad blinked once. Then twice. The blood drained from his face, replaced by an unreadable tension that locked his jaw tight and froze his shoulders in place like he’d just taken a bullet to the chest.

Emily choked on nothing.

Her eyes went wide, darting between you and your father like she was waiting for the punchline to a joke that never came. Her wine glass clinked as she set it down on the counter too quickly. “I—excuse me—” she began, then stopped herself, clearly realizing there was no safe place to go next.

Your father stood slowly, his knuckles whitening against the edge of the countertop.

“What did you just say?”

You lifted your chin, ignoring the tremble in your spine, the way your heart was thrashing in your chest like it wanted out. “You heard me.”

He exhaled slowly. “That’s completely inappropriate—”

You smiled then, sharp and satisfied. “Oh! You mean like how you weren’t just pressed against Emily in your office three hours ago?”

That hit. Hard.

Emily just stared at you with wide, stunned eyes like she wanted to disappear. You ignored her entirely. You didn’t even look at her. This wasn’t about her.

You and your father stood in the silence that followed, the weight of everything unsaid pressing in between you like a loaded gun.

He finally spoke, voice hoarse with disbelief. “You slept with Spencer?”

“I did,” you said, still calm. “In his apartment. After you drove me to lose my goddamn mind tonight.”

His eyes closed. Just for a second. Like he was holding in an explosion.

You dropped your purse on the table and turned for the stairs, voice icy as you added over your shoulder, “But don’t worry, Dad. I’ll be sure to keep it professional in the office. Just like you do.”

“I’m your father,” Hotch snapped, stepping forward now, his voice low but sharp enough to cut glass. “This is not acceptable.”

“Oh, now you’re my father?” Your voice rose, just slightly. “Funny how that only comes out when it’s your feelings on the line. Not when I’m crying in the elevator or begging for scraps of your attention.”

“You don’t get to stand there and pretend like this is the same,” he hissed, pointing between you and the counter, between you and Emily. “You’re my daughter. And he’s—”

You watched the blood drain from his face, his jaw tightening, the muscles in his neck straining like he was fighting not to throw the glass against the wall. Slowly, his eyes met yours, and the expression behind them—shock, betrayal, fury—nearly made you grin.

Oh, that’s the version of him you remembered.

The one that got like this when you missed curfew. When you got suspended that one time for fighting a boy who tried to grab your ass. When you told him to fuck off at fourteen because he refused to come to your recital. That familiar, righteous, controlling rage that made you feel like you were still just a little girl breaking his rules in the only ways that made him notice you.

Only now you weren’t a little girl.

You were a grown woman. And you’d just fucked his best profiler.

“Get out.”

You blinked, feigning confusion. “I live here.”

“I don’t give a damn,” he snapped. “Get out.”

You didn’t move. You weren’t going to.

“You really think you get to act shocked?” you said softly, dangerously. “You’re here playing house with her like we’re not all pretending it’s fine that you forgot how to love the first family you had. You’re the one who stopped showing up, Dad. Don’t get pissed at me for finally finding someone who did.”

His jaw ticked. Emily touched his arm gently, a silent plea.

“Don’t,” you said instantly, your eyes cutting to her. “You don’t get to make him soft. Not when he couldn’t be bothered to remember my birthday last year.”

Emily flinched. You didn’t care. This wasn’t for her. It was for him.

You turned toward the stairs. “You wanted me to be an adult, right?” you tossed over your shoulder. “Welcome to the consequences.”

a/n: so many daddy issues like what the hell

⋆•★⋆ MASTERLIST ⋆★•⋆

[mmmunson]

one thing I will always be a fan of is a wet Miller

[mmmunson]

THE LAST OF US 1x08: When We Are In Need | 2x07: Convergence

[mmmunson]

guys....can I be honest.......what a disappointing SEASON FINALE!?!? Remember the days when finales where that bit longer!!! It wasn't a bad episode, just as a FINALE!??!?!? I dont really know how else they could've ended it, but they should've kept the season 3 announcement until after the season was done! can't believe we're probably gonna be waiting another 1.5+ years for season 3 🥲

[mmmunson]

THE LAST OF US — 2.06: “The Price"

[mmmunson]

Can you please do a Jesse x Miller Reader smut where Joel and Tommy catch them and Ellie comes in like 😨 then starts mocking them THANK YOUUU🫶

the thing

omg i’ve had this request in my inbox for like two years :’(( so sorry but i’ve been really digging the actor for jesse in the show so here we are! it’s not specific to the show so you can imagine it as live action or game jesse! i also went kinda off track from the request but has similar vibes only it's tommy teasing them and not ellie. also there's no real smut but i would def be open to doing a part two with some!

pairing: jesse (tlou) x fem!miller!reader

description: jackson was not a very big place, so why did it take so long for them to connect?

warnings: slightly nsfw towards the end but no smut, swearing, slight au but it doesn’t really change anything (joel and ellie don’t interact in this but in my mind it’s important that they have made up), reader is referenced to not fit into jesse’s clothes but there’s no indication of whether its too big or too small so that’s up to your imagination, alcohol and weed use, mentions of violence and r’s shitty ex but neither actually appear.

words: 4.8K

date posted: 6/5/25

Jesse found himself tapping his foot repeatedly against the pavement, eyes flickering down to check the faltering watch on his wrist, always a minute behind no matter how many times he rewound it. Oh well, he was one of the few in Jackson who had the luxury of owning a watch while everyone else relied on wall clocks alone. Still, no matter how slow the moving hands of his watch were, the girl was now at least ten minutes late.

“Good afternoon,” her voice chirped as she rounded the corner with an easy grin on her face and her preferred horse following in tow, expression betraying absolutely no remorse for her tardiness, “you ready?”

“I was ready ten minutes ago,” he told her, rolling his eyes, “you know, when we were supposed to head out? What’s your excuse this time?”

The girl scoffed, “I was in the bakery all morning, you know how Penny gets–you don’t leave ‘til she says so.”

His head tilted to the side for a moment; as far as her past excuses went, this was probably the most believable, especially since he caught a whiff of warm cinnamon as she came to stand next to him. 

“Alright,” he nodded, “I’ll let you off this time. Let’s just get moving, we’re already behind schedule.”

“Sir, yes sir,” she saluted him, turning to climb atop her horse with ease. 

Until recently, the girl was not someone that Jesse would have considered a friend. He knew her from around town, of course, and they generally ran in the same circle (which was basically just a group of people within a three year age range), but they had only spoken a handful of times prior to being assigned to patrol together. He’d actually been the first to make her feel welcome within the younger crowd in Jackson when she’d first arrived, but she soon started dating a boy named Keegan, who Jesse particularly did not like, while he had started hanging out with Ellie and Dina more once he and Dina had started dating. 

Now that they had been spending more time together a few times per week, Jesse wondered how they hadn’t hit it off from the beginning. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t initially attracted to her, as he’d always thought she was very pretty, and she was impossibly easy to talk to. His only flaw was the fact that he had given her space after she had arrived bruised and battered and clearly so clearly mentally drained by whatever she had faced out in the wild, though it had been for that very reason that she became so easily attached to Keegan. He was the first one that she had felt personally close to when she arrived in town, which had translated to a lingering sense of protection, even when he wasn’t always the nicest to her. 

The patrol had gone relatively easily, coming across only a small handful of infected along the way, which the pair of them were able to take out within seconds of spotting them, and they had been able to make up for lost time. Conversation flowed easily between the pair–random questions, town gossip, and just about anything that either of them could think of. 

“Are you going to the thing tomorrow night?” 

“The thing?” Jesse hummed teasingly, “Which thing?”

“I mean, it is the only thing going on tomorrow night,” she joked, “you know, the thing!”

“Oh, that thing,” Jesse snorted, “the one at the Bison? Tomorrow night at seven o’clock sharp?”

She giggled, “Yes, that thing at that specific time and place. Are you going?”

Jesse shrugged, “Dunno. I was gonna go, but I think Dina is and we haven’t really been on the best terms lately. I feel like I’d just be looking for trouble.”

“Oh shit, I feel like every time I hear about you two it’s something different.”

Jesse watched her from the corner of his eye for a moment, eyes following the sunlit glow as it traced her features. He sighed, “Yeah, well…I don’t even know what to say about that. I care about Dina, a lot, but I don’t know if I see this going on for much longer. I feel like I need someone a little more mature, less prone to drama, and she needs someone that…”

“Doesn’t have a stick up their ass 24/7?”

His head whirled to the side, catching her beaming face as she fought back a laugh at his own shocked expression, “Excuse me? Don’t make me report you to Tommy for insubordination.”

She scoffed, “Oh please, like he’s gonna do anything.”

“You’re right about that,” Jesse rolled his eyes, “I’d probably get in more trouble for it than you would, kiss ass.”

“I am not a kiss ass!” She argued, “He just loves me more than he loves you. Maybe you just need to try harder.”

“Maybe I just need to be related to him. That worked out easily enough for you, didn’t it?”

Those who had any sort of personal connection with Tommy Miller had heard tell of his older brother, the one who hadn’t been the same since the end of civilization and had been his inspiration to branch out from the QZ and seek some sort of better life, whether that would be with the Fireflies or not. The last he’d seen him was back in the Boston QZ months before he had even arrived in Jackson. No one would have expected him to ever hear of him again, let alone for the older Miller to turn up at Jackson’s gates with two young girls at his side. 

They had all made their own impacts on the community. Joel had become a trusted councilmember and quickly became someone that people saw as a strong leader, while Ellie had become known for her fiery temper and headstrong attitude. The third member of their party, however, had become a central figure in Jackson’s social scene, quickly becoming popular among the younger crowd while also making an effort to maintain familiarity with as many other members of the community as possible. She was often responsible for the parties that took place and seasonal celebrations, often being seen as a goody-two-shoes to most while also having a tendency to party with her inner circle. Jesse often wondered how she had the energy to do it all, and he was not the only one who found it so surprising to discover that the girl made of sunshine was the daughter of Jackson’s resident grump himself, Joel Miller. 

She didn’t answer him, huffing quietly as she rolled her eyes. She was not angry with him, not truly, but it was difficult to not feel irked by his comment considering that some around town often criticized her father and uncle for giving her and Ellie special treatment. Of course, they felt more of an attachment to the two young girls, as would anyone else for their own children, but she did not feel that either of them let her off any easier than anyone else when she landed herself into trouble. 

“You’re going with Keegan, I assume?” Jesse asked, suddenly self conscious by her silence, “To the thing, I mean.”

She snorted a laugh, “You assumed wrong. We broke up two weeks ago.”

“Oh,” he swallowed, unsure of how to proceed. He’d never heard her sound so annoyed in the entire time that he had known her, “Sorry to hear.”

“It’s fine. I just realized one day that he treated me like shit. I’m over it. Though, I’m surprised you didn’t already know. Last I heard he’s been spreading it around town faster than the clap.”

Jesse choked out a laugh, “Don’t tell me…”

“A rumour I heard after we broke up,” she chuckled, “but he’s apparently shacked up with Emily, Theresa, and Melissa since then, so it’s not out of the question. Honestly, doc says I didn’t show any signs so I don’t really care.”

“Fair,” he nodded, “so are you still going?”

“Dunno, I guess I am the one who planned it…” she thought for a moment before a small smirk appeared on her face, “I’ll go if you do. We can drink and endure the presence of our exes together.”

Jesse sighed, “That’s a hard bargain you’re driving.”

“Some call me a businesswoman by heart,” she shrugged, “what do you say?”

He turned his gaze back to her, feeling a small stutter in his chest as their eyes met. She offered him a soft smile, melting his weak attempt at playing cool away until he found himself relenting, agreeing to attend the thing together despite his innate desire to avoid his ex-girlfriend at all costs. The grin that split her face made his limbs feel like jelly and brought a scarlet flush up the nape of his neck and across his cheeks. They continued on in silence, only sharing a few more words throughout the rest of their patrol route until the gates of Jackson came back into view. 

He dismounted his horse once they were inside, offering a hand up to the girl as she did the same. He was glad that the weather had been warmer that day, meaning that he had gone without gloves for patrol and he was able to feel the warmth of her hand against his own calloused flesh. They walked side by side as they led their horses back to the stables, occasionally bumping shoulders and sharing small smiles before they met Tommy and Maria at the gate of the stables. 

“Hey kiddos,” Tommy greeted them both, leaning against the stable door as they filed in one-by-one, “how’d things go?”

Jesse began a review of their patrol, what they saw, what they didn’t see, how many infected they’d taken out, what sort of changes in the landscape they might have noticed, while Maria moved over to help the younger woman unsaddle and brush her horse. He could overhear a few words and giggles from the next stall over where the two women discussed the event taking place later that evening. Finally, she appeared next to Tommy to interrupt his report.

“I gotta head to help set up for tonight, but did you want to just meet at my place and go together? I was gonna go a bit early if that’s okay.”

Jesse’s ears burned at the look of surprise on Tommy’s face, his large brown eyes flickering between the young man and his niece, “Uh, yeah sounds good.”

“Great! See you later, then.”

Maria took her place as she disappeared out of the stables, sharing a look of amusement with her husband as they turned their attention back to the young man before them who seemed to wish he could shrink into the floor beneath him. 

“Something you wanna tell us?” Maria asked with a grin. She was a no nonsense woman for the most part, but she couldn’t help the entertainment she found in the love lives of Jackson’s young people. 

“Uh,” Jesse hesitated, “no. We–uh, we’re just going to the thing tonight.”

Tommy let out a deep chuckle at the discomfort on the younger man’s face, “I see. And I assume you asked Joel’s permission before you asked his daughter to the thing?”

“She asked me,” Jesse argued, “I wasn’t really expecting it.”

“So you’re telling me you only accepted because you didn’t wanna hurt her feelings?” The older man crossed his arms over his chest with mock aggression. 

“No!” Jesse blurted, “I just didn’t know she saw me like that.”

“Mhm,” Tommy hummed, stifling a laugh, “Well I suggest you head over and have a conversation with Joel about this before he finds out through someone else, AKA me.”

Maria swatted his arm, “Give him a break, Tommy. She’s a big girl now, she can take care of herself.”

“Oh I don’t doubt that, I’m looking out for Jesse here. Not sure if he’ll be able to take care of himself if Joel walks into the party tonight and catches this one pawing at his daughter.”

Jesse sputtered in response, his usually cool facade completely broken under the pressure placed by the girl’s uncle, especially now when he considered that the pressure would be applied tenfold when Joel found out that he was now pursuing his daughter. He and Joel had been close ever since he had arrived in Jackson, and especially since he had started hanging out with Ellie, but his relationship with Dina had been famously unstable and he didn’t want Joel to suspect that it might be the same way if Jesse were to start dating his daughter. So, as soon as he was able to escape the clutches of Tommy Miller, he set out in the direction of Joel’s “office”, which was one of the older and uninhabited homes in town that he used as a headquarters for the construction crew he and Tommy had assembled. 

Joel seemed surprised when Jesse began his speel, explaining how he genuinely cared about the girl, and that it may seem soon after their respective breakups but it felt right in the moment, and finally ending it by giving Joel his permission to hurt him if he did anything wrong. Joel was silent for a few beats, watching Jesse through narrowed eyes before he took into a roaring laugh, fist slamming down on the table as he took in the nervous state of the normally confident young man. 

“Well,” Joel cleared his throat as he composed himself, “I can tell you I wasn’t expecting that today.”

“So…” Jesse shifted uncomfortably, “is this a good sign or…”

“Listen,” Joel sighed, “I’ve come to learn that she’s not gonna listen to me when it comes to these things, but I do appreciate this. You’ve already got a step up from that ass-hat Keegan, but that’s not saying much. Oh, and if you hurt her, I’m not gonna be asking permission before I lay hands on you. Understood?”

Jesse gulped, but his nerves began to lessen, “Yes, sir.”

That night, Jesse found himself climbing the front steps to Joel Miller’s house at six-thirty on the dot, a small smile finding its way onto his face as he found his date seated on a patio chair with a book in her lap. She turned her face up to offer him a similar expression as he greeted her, sliding a piece of folded paper between the pages of her book to save her place before setting it aside.

“Hey,” she greeted in return, standing up to meet him halfway, “you’re right on time. You trying to impress me, or something?”

“Something like that,” he shrugged, eyes taking in her patch-work sundress and dark brown boots, “you look nice–pretty, I mean.”

She glanced down at her dress, smiling bashfully, “thanks. Hey, can I ask you something before we go?”

He nodded, “Yeah, sure.”

“Is this a date?” She blurted, wringing her fingers together nervously, “I mean, I didn’t mean for it to be, but then my dad said you came to ask his permission to take me out, and then I realized that I sort of want it to be, but I didn’t want to assume anything because I’m the one who asked you, and–”

Jesse wanted the earth to swallow him whole. This entire time, he’d been shocked but elated that she had asked him out, especially considering that he didn’t think it was likely that he was going to muster up the courage to ask her on his own, only to discover that she had only asked him as friends?

“Oh god,” Jesse groaned, “oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make things weird between us. I just thought, since we were talking about Keegan and Dina and then you asked me that maybe–holy shit, I’m an idiot.”

The girl grasped his forearm tightly, regaining his attention from the physical touch, “No, no, I just… I didn’t know you saw me that way. I do like you, Jesse, I just think I didn’t want to admit it until I knew you liked me too.”

His heart continued to race, only now for an entirely different reason, “Well, I do. A lot.”

She grinned at him, leaning up to press a gentle kiss to his cheek, “Well I like you too. A lot.”

The pair stepped closer to one another, his eyes falling to her lips as his cheek burned from the affection. She tilted her face upward, an invitation for him to invade her space even further, which he had no issue in obliging as he dipped down to meet her in a soft, curious kiss. It was only a peck, and then another, and then another before their lips met in a solid, proper embrace, each of them gaining familiarity with one another as his hands slid around her back, bunching in the fabric of her dress as he pulling her even closer, her own running through his silky black hair. 

The sound of a throat being cleared forced them apart, their hands flying off of one another in seconds as they turned to find the source of the noise, finding both Miller brothers at the foot of the stairs, one wearing a deep frown while the other could barely contain his laughter behind a shit-eating grin. 

“Jesse,” Joel grumbled, climbing up the step slowly before he turned to square himself up to the younger man, “glad to see you found your way. Now if you don’t mind taking this off of my porch–and never let me see that again.”

“Dad.”

Joel turned his stern stare to his daughter, raising his eyebrows at her before pressing a kiss to her temple, “I mean it. Don’t need to see this meathead pawing at you all the time.”

“Leave ‘em alone, Joel,” Tommy chortled, “we’ve just gotta get you set up now. Lots of single ladies around Jackson.”

Joel snorted, turning on his heel and entering his home without another word. Leave it to him to flee at the first mention of his dating life. Tommy patted Jesse on the back, pausing to kiss his niece on the head as well before he followed his brother inside with a teasing farewell to the young couple.

They stood there for a moment, each of them bathing in the embarrassment of being caught making out by her father and uncle before she turned back to him, breaking the silence.

“He doesn’t think you’re a meathead, if it’s any consolation. He really likes you.”

“I think that was before I was dating his daughter.”

She tilted her head in confusion, “Do I have a sister I don’t know about?”

“Uh…” Jesse stammered, “not dating, I just meant–”

She laughed, punching him on the arm as she pushed past him and slipped down the steps. She glanced over her shoulder as she called back to him, “I’m messing with you. You don’t gotta ask me anything just yet, but don’t let me catch you looking at other girls.”

Jesse breathed out a laugh. The Miller family would be the death of him, that much he was sure of. He jogged to catch up with her, allowing her to slip her fingers through his own as she dragged him off in the direction of the Tipsy Bison.

Just over an hour later, the bar was filled to the brim, laughter and chatter echoing around the building over the sound of the folk music being played by the small ensemble off to the side. Jesse leaned against the bar, eyes scanning the crowd in search of his date. He’d gotten sucked into helping Seth with loading crates of liquor into the building, reluctantly leaving her side for only twenty minutes and now he had completely lost sight of her in the crowd. 

“Looking for someone?” 

Jesse turned his head to the side, finding his ex-girlfriend leaning onto the bar next to him with a glass of whiskey in her hand, “Oh, hey.”

“Hey,” she narrowed her eyes at him, “so, are you looking for someone?”

He shrugged, “and what if I am?”

“Then I would like to hear it from you,” she stated, “look, I get it, we’re broken up. Just be honest with me.”

He sighed, but nodded his head as he finally spoke the girl's name, “We’re here together.”

Her eyebrows rose instinctively, but quickly dropped into their natural position, “Can’t say I’m that surprised. I always knew you liked her.”

“Dina,” he groaned, but she cut him off.

“I’m not looking to start anything,” she told him, “at first, I figured we’d get back together, we always do. But, we honestly should have broken up a long time ago. I’ll always care about you, but I’m happy that you’re happy.”

He was surprised by this, considering that his ex-girlfriend had always taken rejection poorly and usually found a way to turn situations in her favour, but she would have had to have been blind to ignore the glaring issues that they had endured in their relationship, “Thanks, Dina. It means a lot. But maybe now that we’re over, you could give Ellie a chance. She’s been into you for as long as I can remember.”

Dina turned her attention to where Ellie was laughing with Maria across the bar, a small smile growing on her lips, “You think so?”

“God, she’s definitely considered killing me just to get to you,” he joked, “don’t rush into it if you’re not ready, but keep it in mind.”

She flushed, nodding her head as she placed her hand over his on the bar for a moment, squeezing it one final time before she pushed away from the bar and headed off in the direction of Ellie, eagerly pulling her away from Maria and onto the dancefloor. 

“What did she want?” 

He turned his gaze back to where Dina had previously stood, finding the narrowed gaze of the girl he’d previously been in search of, “Nothing, she was just asking about you.”

“Really?” She crossed her arms, “That’s it?”

“Why?” He smirked, turning his body to face her, “You jealous?”

She shrugged, “Should I be?”

“No,” he leaned closer, taking her hand in his, “she said she was happy for me, and I told her to go talk to Ellie.”

She glanced over, finding the two smiling girls on the dancefloor as her expression softened, “Oh. Yeah, Els has been mooning over her for years.”

“I know,” he laughed, “just like you have been for me.”

She turned to him with a growing grin on her face, “Oh please, you’re the one who asked my dad for permission to take me to a public function.”

“Oh don’t remind me,” he dropped his forehead to her shoulder to hide his embarrassment, “I thought he was gonna mount my head on his wall.”

“He still might,” she shrugged, “just depends on how long it takes you to get me a drink.”

He stood back to his full height, an easy smile finding its way across his features, “Yes, ma’am.”

After three drinks and a quick trip outside to take advantage of Jesse’s harvest from Eugene’s stash, the pair found themselves twirling around the dancefloor for hours on end before they finally bid their farewells, giggling their way down the torch-lit streets of Jackson hand-in-hand. His heart thrummed in his chest everytime he glanced over at her, already finding her wide, glossy eyes staring up at him as they walked. 

“Can I stay with you tonight?” she asked, a soft twinkle in her eyes as she rested her head onto his shoulder. He maneuvered his arm to wrap around her shoulders without ever letting go of her hand, now interlocked and resting against her collarbone. “I’d say we could go to my place, but I think it’s too early on for my dad to catch you sneaking out.”

He laughed as he pivoted their direction to head towards his own lodgings, a small apartment above the seamstress’s place, “Yeah, I’d like to keep my head for a little longer.”

“I would like you to, too.”

Jesse’s apartment was fairly bare, furnished with just the basics, but decorated just enough to make it feel like his. He shared it, of course, with another guy a few years younger than them, but he had yet to return from the party and if things went well with the girl he’d been dancing with all night, Jesse was hopeful that he wouldn’t be back until morning. 

“Wanna watch a movie?” Jesse nodded to the small box TV in the corner, then to the small shelf containing a handful of VHS tapes, “choices are limited but I think we have a little bit of everything. I think we even have a chick-flick around here somewhere.”

She nodded silently as he guided her to his room, fishing around for a baggy t-shirt and shorts for her to change into before leaving her to change. He set the movie up, selecting one that was just interesting enough that it was watchable, but just boring enough that neither of them would be opposed to missing out on parts of it. He popped one of the windows near the ratty old couch open, digging out a bag of hastily rolled joints and his trusty lighter, leaning back on the couch as he waited for her to emerge from his room.

She looked cute in his shirt, though he was surprised when his eyes were met with her bare legs up to her thighs, having foregone the shorts that he had set aside for her. She smiled bashfully as she settled into the couch next to him, “The shorts didn’t fit. This is okay, though, I think it covers enough.”

He shrugged, taking a slow drag from the joint, “You look cute in my clothes.”

She snuggled into his side, accepting the joint as he offered it to her and turned her gaze to the TV, “what’d you pick?”

He held the VHS sleeve up, “Dude, Where’s My Car?. It’s alright, I’ve seen it a few times.”

“Never heard of it,” she spoke as a puff of smoke escaped her lips, handing the joint back over to him, “but sounds okay to me. At this point I just keep watching Star Wars over and over. We have two of them, and they’re set like twenty years apart so I have no idea what’s actually going on.”

The movie was easily forgotten. At first, they had sat in silence while passing the joint back and forth before dazed conversations took over. She laughed at almost everything he said, snuggling closer and closer until he was entirely reclined against the armrest with her curled into his chest. Her chin rested against his pec as they spoke, giggling at one another as an easy silence took over, their eyes meeting as the mood in the room shifted. 

Her eyes flickered from his down to his round lips, watching in anticipation as he ran his tongue across his bottom lip nervously before she scooched herself forward until she could comfortably press her lips to his. It wasn’t rushed or heated in the beginning, instead falling into a slow, but slightly messy rhythm as her hands came up to take hold of his dark hair while his own slid across the expanse of her back, one settling on the curve of her spine while the other gripped the back of her thigh to hike it further up against his waist. 

She let out a small whine against his lips, pulling away for a moment to focus her attention to trailing her lips across his cheek, over his jaw, and down his neck. A low grumble rolled through his chest at this, her name falling from his lips with a quiet moan.

“We don’t have to–” his hands gripped her waist tighter as he struggled to keep his composure.

She returned to his lips, pressing one more long kiss to them before pulling back with a wicked grin splitting her face.

“Take me to bed, Jesse,” she whispered.

And who was he to deny her?

[mmmunson]

Soft Rebellion

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Cheerleader!Reader

Word Count: 2.3k

Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Secret Relationship, Subtle Angst, Tender Fluff

Summary: you find yourself in between worlds, while Eddie defends your honor

🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍

You were the only girl in the squad who listened to Bauhaus on your Walkman during warm-ups.

That alone made you weird. Add the fact that you didn’t worship the captain, wore thrifted leather jackets over your cheer uniform, and fishnets under your skirt? You were practically asking for it.

They were never outright cruel, just… quiet enough to be cruel. Offhand comments, lingering stares, laughter that stopped when you walked in. You’d grown used to it. You told yourself you didn’t care. You were on the squad for college applications. For scholarships.

You had your reasons.

And you had Eddie.

You kept him to yourself.

The late-night drives, the motel mixtapes, the way he touched your face like he couldn’t believe you were real—it was all yours. Not theirs. He didn’t understand why you were on the squad and didn’t pretend to. Every time he saw you in that green-and-gold uniform, he’d frown like it hurt him.

Eddie didn’t understand the cheerleader thing, not even a little.

“Why the hell do you do this to yourself?” he’d ask, rubbing your thigh while you pulled bobby pins out of your hair in his van. “They treat you like a roach.”

“Because I need the scholarship.”

“There are other scholarships.”

“I like not having to pick an outfit every morning.”

He’d stare at you for a beat. “You’re the strangest girl I’ve ever met.”

You’d grin and steal his cigarette. “Thanks.”

“You know they don’t deserve you,” he’d mutter into your neck. “Hawkins doesn’t deserve you.”

⸻

You weren’t even sure why you came. Maybe some small part of you wanted to be included. Maybe you just wanted to prove to yourself that you could exist in both worlds.

That was your mistake.

You were on the edge of the living room, drink in hand, shifting from foot to foot while trying not to breathe in the thick cloud of cheap cologne and beer fumes. The other girls had disappeared into a circle of jocks, laughing too loudly, gesturing with their cups. You saw Trish lean in to whisper something to Heather, eyes flicking toward you, and then—laughter. Sharp, synchronized.

You didn’t hear the words. You didn’t need to.You looked down at your outfit. The cheer uniform, sure, but you’d pulled a black fishnet top under it and swapped the usual Keds for your scuffed boots. A mix of who you had to be and who you really were.

Apparently, it was hilarious.

You turned toward the kitchen, meaning to get some air, when a body slid in front of you. Tall. Letterman jacket. Brad. Or maybe Chad. They all looked the same—square jaw, empty eyes.

“Well, well,” he drawled, looking you up and down like you were inventory. “Didn’t know goth girls came in pom-poms.”

You rolled your eyes and tried to step around him. He moved with you.

“Relax,” he said, chuckling. “Just saying hey.”

“Hey,” you said flatly. “Bye.”

But his hand landed on your thigh, fingers pressing into the exposed skin between your skirt and boot. You froze.

You shifted away, trying to be polite, brushing him off aggressively and mumbled something about needing to make a call.

⸻

You dialed Eddie’s number from the first phone you could find, heart racing, hoping he wasn’t at band practice, hoping he’d answer—

“Hey, sweetheart,” his voice came through, warm and scratchy. “Everything okay?”

You almost cried right then.

“Can you come get me?” you whispered. “Please?”

There was a pause. Then: “Where are you?”

⸻

Fifteen minutes later, you were standing outside under a flickering porch light, arms wrapped around yourself in the cold.

Then headlights cut across the lawn.

Eddie’s van pulled up like something out of a dream—loud, unapologetic, just like him. He didn’t park on the curb. He drove straight up the grass, bumping over the edge with zero care for whoever’s lawn it was.

The door opened, and there he was—curls wild, Metallica shirt stretched over his chest, flannel tied around his waist, looking like rebellion personified.

He moved fast. Straight to you. His eyes scanned your face, then your body, checking for damage like he didn’t trust your silence.

“Hey, baby,” he said gently, brushing a piece of hair from your cheek. “You okay?”

You nodded, but it was shaky.

He opened the passenger door for you like it was second nature. Like you were something precious. “Get in. I’ll be right back.”

“Eddie—don’t—”

But he was already walking.

⸻

You watched from the van, fingers clenched around your thighs.

Inside, the music dipped and then spiked. Voices rose. Someone shouted. You saw shadows move, someone stumbling back into a wall. A glass hit the ground and shattered. Trish peeked out the front door, saw the van, and narrowed her eyes.

Then Eddie was back, jaw tight, a small red scrape on one knuckle.

He slammed the driver’s side door and didn’t speak for a minute. Just sat there, gripping the wheel like it was the only thing tethering him to Earth.

Finally, he exhaled.

“He won’t be touching anyone for a while,” he said, voice low. “Might be limping. Might be seeing double. But he got the message.”

You didn’t know what to say. Your heart hurt with the way he was looking at the windshield like it had betrayed him.

“I didn’t kill him,” he added dryly. “In case you were wondering.”

You reached over and took his hand.

His eyes finally met yours, and softened immediately.

“You hungry?” he asked.

⸻

He took you to the diner on the edge of town. The one that was never full but never empty either. Vinyl booths, checkered floors, a jukebox that only half-worked. It smelled like syrup and grease and safety.

Eddie ordered two milkshakes—strawberry, with extra whipped cream on yours—and a plate of fries to split. The waitress, an older woman with a kind smile and a teased perm, didn’t blink twice at your mismatched looks.

You sat in the far booth by the window. Outside, Hawkins felt far away. Just neon lights and darkness.

“I don’t belong there,” you said finally.

He looked up.

“I never did. I thought maybe… if I tried hard enough. If I wore the skirt and tied my hair and smiled like they do. But I’m just a paper doll in the wrong set.”

Eddie didn’t say anything right away. He let that sit.

Then, softly: “You’re not a paper doll. You’re a fucking firecracker. And they hate that they can’t snuff you out.”

You blinked hard. Swallowed.

“You know,” he said after a minute, “you don’t have to keep doing this.”

You looked up.

“Cheer. The squad. All of it. You don’t owe anyone anything.”

You smiled, small and tired. “It’s for college.”

“You’ll get into college just fine without pretending to be like them.”

He reached across the table and ran his thumb over your knuckles, slow and careful like he thought you might flinch.

“I’d tell everyone,” he said after a beat. “About us. Right now. I don’t care who knows.”

“I know.”

“You’re not hiding me, are you?”

You looked at him. At the mess of curls and soft brown eyes, his smile that started slow and crooked. The way he always leaned in like he couldn’t help himself. At the boy who opened car doors and punched jocks for you.

“No,” you said. “I’m just… keeping you mine.”

His eyes flickered. Like maybe he wasn’t expecting that. Like maybe it cracked something open in him.

He lifted your hand to his mouth and kissed the back of it. Soft. Reverent.

⸻

Later, he drove you home with your hand on his thigh and your head against the window. He kissed you like he had all the time in the world, like he wasn’t afraid of being seen.

And for the first time, you kind of didn’t care if anyone did see.

⸻

[mmmunson]

what is with this new wave of short ass drabbles with porn and zero plot what happened to yearning?? what happened to build up?? what happened to the character being absolutely down bad for reader?? what happened to the 10k words fics?? screaming crying and throwing up i miss it

[mmmunson]

Yeah gimme both

[mmmunson]

A HELLO AND A KISS

pairing: aaron hotchner x lawyer!reader summary: aaron hotchner survives serial killers and endless paperwork—but apparently not you breezing past him without a hello, based on this request. (im so sorry, i got carried away and did not include the part of r meeting the team!!! pls dont hate me) warnings | an: jealous hotch, protective hotch, simp hotch, hotch is just down bad for his girl, one bj joke word count: 2.4k

✧ masterlist

You hadn’t come home last night.

Aaron had simply received a brief text: Don’t wait up. A case fell into my lap last minute. It wasn’t unusual—not in your line of work, and certainly not in his. You’d both sent that message before, more times than either of you could count. It came with the territory.

You and Aaron had always kept your professional lives separate. A clean, white, necessary line in the sand. It helped keep the bloodstained parts from crossing over and kept your dinner conversations from becoming post-mortems or courtroom recaps. After all, it was easier not to talk about the men Aaron arrested when you were the one prosecuting them.

He didn’t put it together right away.

But all five of his senses were attuned to you. Honestly? his sixth sense was you. He didn’t need to see you to know you were there—he could feel you, hear you, even smell you before he ever caught a glimpse.  It didn’t take much. Sometimes, it was just the sound of heels—your heels—that gave you away.

It was that click-clack rhythm that he had grown accustomed to over the months, filtering through early mornings when you forgot your keys, then your case notes, then your coffee. It trailed after you in the hallway, embedded in every corner where you’d left pieces of yourself scattered around his home.

And now, that same sound echoed from behind him, followed by the heavy thud of the courtroom door swinging shut.

“Can’t believe he’s actually trying to weasel out of this,” Prentiss muttered under her breath, just as you swept past their row.

The unsub’s public defender had filed a not-guilty plea days earlier—citing supposed evidence mishandling, mistaken identity, even floating some half-baked theory about a setup. It was desperate. Flimsy. But just credible enough to stall the trial, to buy time he didn’t deserve.

You didn’t look Aaron’s way. Didn’t slow your pace. You gave no reaction at all, just glided by, slipping into the prosecution’s chair like it was your usual seat at the office.

“New face,” Prentiss noted, leaning toward Hotch. “She wasn’t at the prelims was she?”

Hotch finally cleared his throat. “No.”

He meant to say more—something neutral, something about new counsel, something properly professional, something more him—but the words got stuck somewhere behind his ribs. Especially when the most him thing in the world was standing right there, only meters away from a man he’d gladly kill with his bare hands if he so much as looked at you the wrong way.

Though, truthfully, he knew you’d get to him quicker with words, with strategy, with that cool, calculated tone that could cut deeper than any punch Hotch could throw.

You still hadn’t looked at him. Fully locked into that little world of yours, where the second you stepped into a courtroom, you grew fins and dermal denticles, transforming into a shark in couture and four-inch heels.

It stung. Just a little. But he knew why you were doing it. He just couldn’t begin to imagine what it must feel like to sit in a room and watch you give someone like that—worst of the worst—your full, undivided attention.

He’d only had the pleasure (and slight terror) of watching you in court twice before—neither case connected to the BAU and already, he was starting to sweat. Just a little. Maybe.

Aaron clamped his jaw tight, trying to keep his expression neutral, but the effort must’ve been visible because he caught Rossi huffing a laugh under his breath.

Of course Rossi knew. Rossi was the only one who’d actually met you off-duty. And the last thing Hotch needed was Rossi even hinting at the tiny, minuscule, barely-worth-mentioning fact that you wore Aaron’s old college t-shirt to bed, or that just a few hours ago, he’d been ogling your bare legs as you stumbled out of the shower, mumbling at him to go back to sleep.

Because as soon as Prentiss or Morgan—who already looked half-asleep in his seat—caught wind of it, it wouldn’t be a murder trial they were interested in anymore. No, it would turn into entertainment, something far more exciting than sitting at their desks, pretending to work through paperwork they never submitted on time anyway.

He shifted in his seat. No engagement was the best engagement, he figured.

Instead, he forced his eyes off you and onto the defendant, who was fiddling with his tie like that would suddenly make him more credible. Like anyone in the room would forget what he’d done just because he shaved and tucked in his damn shirt.

But the second you stood, rising slowly from your chair, Aaron’s gaze snapped right back to you, so fast it nearly gave him whiplash. Still, you didn’t look his way. Of course you didn’t. You were here to do a job. And right now, that job was dismantling a man with nothing but your voice.

He swallowed hard.

Yeah. He was definitely sweating now.

By the time the trial hit the halfway mark, he could tell your energy had changed—or was about to—with the unsub being called to the stand.

Hotch sat stiffly, watching you shuffle your notes with little effort. Morgan had finally roused enough to start paying attention, and Prentiss was scribbling away in the margins of her legal pad—none of which, Hotch would bet good money, had anything to do with the actual trial.

You stood once more, brushing that stubborn piece of hair away from your face—the one that always seemed to fall whenever you were reading something from above. He wished he could push it away for you, wished he could pull you out of this courtroom entirely, shield you from every ugly, broken thing the world could throw at you.

But then your voice cut through the room, reminding him that this was your job.

"Alright," you began, voice crisp but bored, like you were already three steps ahead. That’s what anyone else might think. But Aaron knew you were ahead five.

"Let’s go back to March 5th," you said, pausing just for a second. "You said you didn’t know Jessica Harlan."

"I didn’t," Tanner snapped back, so fast it almost made Hotch smile.

That kind of panic was never a good sign—and he knew it was one of your favourite tells. The second someone cracked like that, it was like flipping a switch, like flashing a green light across the battlefield. Go get him.

"Right," you hummed, nodding like you were humouring a stubborn child throwing a tantrum. "Right."

Another pause.

You were good at that—giving the poor soul on the receiving end (victim, really) of your arguing capabilities enough time to think. To second-guess themselves. Hotch had picked up on it early on, and when he’d once asked you about it, you gave him a dry, matter-of-fact answer: it gave people enough time to realise how stupid they sounded.

"And yet, a witness places your car parked across the street from her apartment two nights in a row. Same make, same model, same license plate."

Tanner shifted in the witness chair, but you didn’t rush him. You stood there, cool and composed, giving him just enough rope to hang himself.

“I –”

"Parked there?" you cut in, tilting your head like you were offering him an easy out. The trap was already set.

You reached for the remote, clicking the TV monitor on.

"Okay, that’s completely understandable," you considered with a polite nod toward the jury. "Though I’m not quite sure what your explanation is for getting out of the vehicle on the second night and standing in front of Jessica Harlan’s apartment for—" you glanced down at your watch, "—thirty-seven minutes."

You glanced back up, eyebrows raised just enough to look curious but not confrontational. Just a lawyer looking for answers.

Tanner opened his mouth, closed it, then looked down at his hands like maybe they’d have a better explanation than he did.

Aaron recognised the footage immediately, thanks to Garcia’s handiwork. The screen showed Tanner stepping out of his car, glancing around, and then just…standing there. Across the street from Jessica’s apartment building.

Doing absolutely nothing.

For thirty-seven minutes.

The same number of stab wounds Jessica and every other victim had endured.

You didn’t even glance at the screen. Your focus stayed fixed on Tanner like a blade against his throat.

“Maybe you were just out getting some fresh air. Though I’m not sure stalking is generally recommended for cardio.”

"Objection, Your Honour—" the defence attorney barked, already on his feet.

You raised a hand, before the judge even had time to respond. “Withdrawn.”

"I wasn’t watching her,” Tanner argued, drawing the attention back to himself.

"No?” you echoed, cocking your head to the side. “Then what were you doing, Mr Tanner? Practicing your standing endurance?"

He huffed out a weak laugh with no real humour behind it. It was the kind that people made when they realised they were cornered and didn’t have the tools to dig their way out.

“I just... needed some air,” he repeated, but even he didn’t sound convinced.

"I get it, I do," you agreed in faux sweetness. "We all need fresh air. Though it’s odd, don’t you think?"

“I’m sorry?”

“Jessica Harlan was stabbed thirty-seven times…" You took a step closer to Tanner, and Aaron had to physically stop himself from moving. Remind himself that you knew exactly what you were doing. That this was all part of the strategy. Even if, deep down, he wanted nothing more than to stand between you and every monster you faced.

"Which," you continued, "happens to be the exact number of minutes you spent outside her apartment."

Tanner swallowed, but that didn’t seem to faze you.

"Just like you spent thirty-seven minutes outside Eliza Horne’s place of work," you listed off, each word tightening the noose around Tanner’s neck. "Thirty-seven minutes outside the gym where Marissa Cole trained. Thirty-seven minutes at the café Danielle Ruiz visited every Thursday—”

Aaron felt Prentiss lean in beside him. “She’s good.”

He didn’t look away from you long enough to answer.

Good didn’t even begin to cover it.

You were extraordinary. And somehow—somehow—you were his.

He didn’t know what he’d done to deserve you, what twist of fate had put you in his path, but he would be grateful for it for the rest of his life.

Grateful that you had let him in.

Grateful that he got to see you whole.

Whether it was in a courtroom, where you left your smile and affection at the door to tear the truth out of some of the worst people, or in the way your eyes crinkled when you laughed—the way you teased him for how he pronounced pecan—he had seen it all. And he wouldn’t trade a second of it.

A nudge from Rossi pulled Aaron out of what felt like a permanent trance—the one you had managed to put him in with no effort whatsoever.

“Everything okay?”

He nodded, absently rubbing a hand over his jaw.

"Got you reminiscing about your prosecutor days?"

Aaron let out a breath that almost passed for a laugh. "I think if I’d stayed," he said, glancing back toward you, "she would’ve put me to shame."

"Would’ve been one hell of a show,” Rossi murmured. “Don’t let her get away.”

Aaron’s mouth tipped into the barest hint of a smile. He wasn’t planning on it. Hell would have to freeze over before he let even the smallest possibility of that happen.

His eyes found you again—right where they belonged—just as you finished with Tanner.

The day wound down eventually, and Aaron doubted the trial would drag on much longer, not after what you’d done to Tanner and his defence team. There wasn’t much left of them by the time you were finished.

He lingered just outside the courtroom, waiting. He’d managed to come up with a half-convincing excuse to stay behind, though neither Morgan nor Prentiss seemed to question it. They were too busy arguing over whether they could convince Penelope to hack into your trial schedule just so they could sit in on another one.

Not that Aaron could blame them.

The courthouse entrance doors swung open again, and you finally stepped through, files tucked under your arm, eyes fixed on your phone as you breezed past.

You didn’t even glance his way.

Again.

Aaron blinked. Really?

"So I don't even get a hello?" he asked, stepping lightly into your path with a raised brow. “Twice in one day. Must be losing my edge.”

You looked up, startled for half a second before your entire face lit up at the sight of him.

"I’m so sorry!" you blurted, already smiling. "You know how much I hate it when things fall into my lap last minute. I've been running around all day just trying to catch up—”

"No, no," he interjected, keeping his face painfully neutral, though the corners of his mouth twitched, just a little. "It’s fine. I’m obviously not that memorable."

"And I thought I was the needy one." You shook your head, still laughing under your breath as you tucked your phone away and shifted your files into one arm.

“Come here,” you cooed, hooking two fingers into the front of Aaron’s jacket, tugging him down.

He went willingly—no surprise there.

You pressed a kiss to his cheek first, soft and easy, before leaning in for a slower one on his lips. The kind that made him forget you were still technically in public.

"Better?" you asked, pulling back just enough to see the answer written all over his face.

"Only a little," he murmured, and before you could so much as blink, he reached out and took the files and your briefcase from your arms like it was second nature, like he’d been carrying your things for years.

“You carrying my stuff now, too?”

“Maybe I’m just trying to earn my next hello.”

You laughed, the sound unwinding every knot in Aaron’s chest, loosening him in ways only you ever could.

“Keep this up and you’ll have my mouth doing a lot more than just saying hello.”

Yeah.

He was completely gone.

tags - @fandomscombine @pastelpinkflowerlife @hazzyking @bernelflo @risenqueen1521 @jazzimac1967 @camihotchner @abschaffer2 @ill-be-okay-soon-enough @pacmillo-blog-blog @stilestotherescue @kiwriteswords @anvdala @supersanelyromantic @yourallaround-simp @percysley

[mmmunson]

not now sweetie mommy’s scrolling past all the joel fics in the tommy x reader tag

[mmmunson]

oh to be loved, to be adored, to be obsessed over, to be noticed, to be heard, to be touched, to be desired

[mmmunson]

Ellie and Joel <3