Hello, I was wondering if you could write an Erik Destler x reader imagine? Reader is touch starved and constantly needs physical touch. Erik gets mad at her and won't touch her, so her mood and energy drop after going so long without it. (She seems sick basically) sorry if it doesn't make a lot of sense
Hi anon, thank you for the request!! I hope it’s okay that I did this as more of a headcanon and changed it just a bit (I hope you don’t mind)! I wanted to start getting some of these requests out because, to me, it feels like they’ve been on the back burner for a while and I hate doing that to y’all. Hope you enjoy it!!
Pairing: Erik Destler x fem!reader
Physical touch...not only was it something you craved from the people you loved, but it was also the way you showed those you loved that you cared.
Soft fingers caressing a cheek, a gentle squeeze of a shoulder, fingers of different hands laced together, a brush of hair away from the face, a hand grazing an arm in passing, an affectionate touch of two foreheads right before a kiss
These were the ways you showed your love, as well as the ways you wanted love shown to you.
You realize that you had never outright told Erik that. Rather, you had slowly coaxed Erik into being comfortable with physical touch, both yours to him and his to you.
He no longer flinched when you rested a hand on his forearm or pulled away right before the meeting of your lips with his. His touch was no longer feather-lite as if you were made out of glass and he was afraid of breaking you. Now he would confidently place the full weight of his hand on your hip, shoulder, neck whenever he held you. You no longer had to tell him it was alright or guide his hand back into place because he touched you of his own volition, without needing to be persuaded or reassured.
And even though he felt comfortable with the frequent physical touch, you see, looking back, that the problem was in never telling him how important touch was to you.
The two of you had gotten into a huge fight about something so inconsequential that, after it was over you had instantly regretted it. You didn’t like arguing to begin with, but whenever it happened with Erik, you hated it even more.
Because of that, you had been ready to apologize and talk with him after a short five-minute walk around the catacombs, which you had used to clear your head.
Evidently, Erik did not feel the same way. You had walked up to where he was sitting at the organ, relentlessly pounding out a dark, torturous melody on the keys, and placed a hand on his shoulder to get his attention.
He quickly shook your hand off and stood, striding away from you and to the table where his numerous musical creations sat waiting to be played.
“Erik?” You had asked quietly, following him. You started to reach for his hand when he spit out a stern, “Don’t”.
A little bit of your heart shattered at his denial and you took a step back in response. He looks you over, his dark eyes swimming with emotions before turning back to the stack of music in front of him. “Just don’t.” He murmurs before completely ignoring you.
You had thought that maybe he was still upset about the argument, not ready to reconcile as you had been, so you left him alone for the rest of the day.
When it came time for bed, you thought that he might be a little calmer after having the day to think. But that had not been the case. Instead, he had stayed up for hours playing on the organ after you had settled into bed.
He had come to bed sometime in the middle of the night, you had felt the bed dip and bend with his added weight, but he never got close. He stayed on the far edge of the bed, stiff and unmoving for the entirety of the time he was in bed.
His cold behavior continued into the next day. He barely spoke to you, let alone touch you, making you feel worse as the day progressed. You had tried again to get his attention, but he, again, pulled away from you, ignoring your pleading.
You became overrun with feelings of self-doubt, rejection, and sorrow that only grew the longer Erik’s petulant behavior continued. You couldn’t bring yourself to do the most necessary tasks, like eating and resting, or the things you enjoyed most, like practicing your music or watching the performers practice for the upcoming opera.
Your mood steadily decreased too, until, three days after the initial argument, you were so upset that you couldn’t even bring yourself to leave the small area of Erik’s cavern that had become your own and head to bed. It seemed pointless to keep up the pretense of ‘normal’ if Erik was ignoring you. You spent that night staring at a sheet of music, that Erik had written for you, in the dwindling candlelight.
Hours later, Erik appeared, wide-eyed and frantic. “Y/N?” He asked as he approached you, his hands flitting over you, yet never touching you. You didn’t have the energy, or the willpower, to move and look him in the eyes.
Finally, he rested a hand on the back of your shoulder. “Ma chérie, please look at me.” You did then, his dark glistening eyes causing your heart to clench painfully as he kneeled down, his face becoming level with yours.
“Ma chérie, I must apologize. You do not deserve to be treated the way I have treated you. I can see that it has affected you gravely.” You almost missed what he had said because you were so distracted by the way he was tracing small shapes on your upper back.
You hadn’t cared, at that moment, what the last few days had been like. All you wanted was to feel his arms around you, so you had pushed away from the hard wooden chair into him. You wrapped your arms around his neck, your face pressed into the spot where his neck met his collar bone.
His arms pulled you close, leaving you feeling whole for the first time in days. And you vowed to yourself that you would finally tell him exactly what being touched meant to you, as you did not want to go through anything like you had ever again.
Hey, thanks for sharing your Haley/Hotch thoughts! Mine are rather strongly negative but on the lines of what you said. Hotch headcannon: Hotch absolutely loves dancing in the kitchen with his S/O in the early hours of the morning, listening to Frank Sinatra and Elvis love songs.
oh yessss, i love this.
just warm virginia mornings, with the windows thrown open, and the sunlight barely streaming in, warming the cold floors. your hand on his shoulder, making him set down the paper as you pull him into your arms. His strong arms around your waist, his chin nestled on your shoulder, as you both slowly sway to the sweet songs playing in the morning. enjoying each other’s company before the craziness of the day.
Hi, hi, HI darling! I hope all is well with you! How are things going with Oliver? Have you been able to get him out for any riding, or walks (I know he has a few chiropractor things going on) this winter? Do you have anything exciting planned for the two of you this coming year? Are there any horse related activities you are looking forward to this year? (Sorry about all the questions but I love talking horses)
i LOVE the questions, don’t worry about it!
i’ve been lunging oliver when i have the time (my work schedule is crazy) and taking him for walks on other days. i’m hoping to get him back into a training program somewhere this year so that’s exciting because then he and i can get back to being an unstoppable dressage pair.
hm. there is an eventing show i attend every year that got cancelled last year because of covid. it’s later in the fall, so i’m HOPING they can open it back up to public spectators again this year.
YES! Okay, here it goes! (And thank you for the request darling!! <3)
He didn’t say anything when one of the uniformed officers had gotten you your favorite coffee order, first thing in the morning.
He didn’t do anything when that same officer had leaned into you to look at something you had pointed out in the case file.
And he hadn’t reached for his gun when that officer had, conveniently, grabbed the open seat next to you and continued to invade your space throughout the entire debriefing.
But he hadn’t been able to stand and watch when the officer had felt the need to brush a strand of hair out of his face.
“Officer Dugan.”
Hotch’s voice snaps you out of the awkward moment with Officer Dugan.
You watch as Hotch strides towards you, his open suit jacket accentuating his well-muscled chest. His face is steely as he stares down the officer.
“Your CO would like to speak to you.” His voice is stern and his face is set in one of his unmoving glares.
Officer Dugan nods nervously, giving you a shy smile before hurrying away.
Hotch then turns his attention to you.
“Agent Y/L/N, I need to speak to you privately.”
He rapidly stalks away, leaving you to quickly follow after him.
Once the two of you are in the conference room, he spins around to face you.
“I just can’t watch Officer Dugan flirt with you like that.” He gruffs out.
You blink at him in confusion. “What?”
“All Officer Dugan has done since you got here is flirt relentlessly with you.”
A sly smile comes on your face. “Hotch, are you jealous?”
He scuffs. “No.”
You are still smiling as you say, “Okay, then you wouldn’t mind if I went back out and found Officer Dugan.” You move towards the door, reaching for the doorknob.
“No.” He almost shouts, causing you to spin around. “I’ll admit it, I am jealous. I like you Y/F/N.”
His admission causes you to smile. “And I like you, Agent Hotchner.”
How would Rossi (criminal minds ) react to reader who doesn't like to sleep because they have nightmares? Then like one night they fall asleep standing up and he takes them to bed and comforts them when they have a nightmare. Thank you so much I really enjoy and love your writing. 🤍
Hi! Thank you so much for the request! I chose to do a headcanon (I hope that is all right). And thank you for the super sweet compliment! You are amazing!
I tried to make this gender-neutral as you didn’t specify, which I hope is okay. And if I messed up somewhere, let me know. I hope it is what you wanted! :)
Warnings: mentions of insomnia, nightmares and death
You hadn't been able to sleep more than three hours a night in the last two weeks because of the nightmares plaguing you.
In fact, the nightmares were so bad, you had started doing everything you could to not fall asleep.
Caffeine, lots of caffeine.
Cold showers.
Loud music, all the time
Turning on lights in every room.
And you had even taken up running, which you hated, to try and keep the adrenaline pumping through you to keep you awake.
Not only had this started affecting you at work (you couldn’t pay attention to a word your supervisor had said at work all week and had spent almost the whole week staring listlessly at your computer), but it had started affecting you at home. You had made Rossi homemade macaroni and cheese, one of your favorite recipes to make, and had forgotten the cheese. And while doing the laundry, you had accidentally thrown the dirty clothes straight into the dryer. You had even started dozing off while you were waiting in the kitchen for your water to boil for tea.
Dave, of course, had noticed. And he tried to subtly get you to come to bed early, with offers of massages and promises of sleep and sweet dreams.
You had gotten so tired that you had fallen asleep, standing up, in the shower as the warm water lulled you into darkness.
It was half an hour later when Dave had barged in, after politely knocking a few times.
Seeing you sleeping in the shower had him worried. He brought you into the bedroom, and as you drowsily roused, had helped you get dressed in a pair of sweats.
He then brought you back to bed and tucked you in. You had tried to stay awake but the tendrils of sleep had pulled you in.
Your sleep was overcome by dark images of Dave lying hurt in an abandoned warehouse, the members of his team trying desperately to save him. Every night, the nightmare was different, but it always ended with Dave getting hurt, and eventually dying. The intense feeling of loss and sadness that followed was so overbearing that you woke up gasping for breath, tears cascading down your face.
Tonight was no different, except this time you awoke to Dave’s gently concerned face staring back at you.
“Y/N, it’s alright. You’re safe.” He whispered, pulling you close. “We both are here, together, and nothing can get you.” He pressed a soft kiss to your forehead as he started singing an Italian lullaby.
You couldn't speak past the tears that had started to choke you up. Instead, you just hugged him back tightly, grateful that for once you were able to wake up and immediately be brought into his arms. His soothing song lulled you into a state of relaxation.
He was your sole comfort and love in this world, and seeing him alive, and well, did wonders to banish the dark thoughts that had started filling your nights.
And being in his arms did wonders for helping you fall back into a dreamless sleep.
whenever you have the time, maybe some hcs for Erik and an artist reader?? 👉👈 And they like to draw him but he doesn’t find out until he comes across their sketches one day?? Sorry that’s super specific fhdhdhhd I love your writing ;w;
Of course darling! Thank you so much for the request!! And the compliment! I love that I can make something y’all enjoy! <3 <3
Alright, here it goes.
You had been drawing him, or at least what you thought he looked like, for months.
It had started when he had appeared, almost out of thin air, during one of the dress rehearsals, demanding that Christine take the lead soprano role.
After all, as he put it, “This is my opera house, and you fools will listen to me.”
Ever since then, you had been consumed with thoughts of him.
Of his mysterious nature, black flowing cape, deep, dark voice, and the bright white mask adorning his face.
These thoughts carried over into your art.
It started with one small, crudely drawn ‘Phantom’ figure and had become pages upon pages of sketches and drawings that focused on every little detail of his appearance.
You drew him as you saw him in your mind.
Flawless
Dark
Full of mystery
Obsessed with the music
Furiously composing
Dramatically playing the organ
Looming in the shadows
But also...
Tender
Human
A man
Everything you knew and everything you had heard about him converged together, creating an image of him that you believed to be true.
You soon had a book full of the art you had created of him. Once it was complete, you had placed the book on the small, rickety shelf you had next to your bed at the opera house.
Because you saw that book on your shelf every day, it didn’t take you long to realize it had gone missing.
After wildly searching for days, you had to give up hope that you would ever find it. You just hoped that it hadn’t gotten into the wrong hands, the hands of someone who would use those drawing against you.
What you didn’t know, was that the Phantom, Erik, had seen you ferociously drawing in it many times and his curiosity had gotten the best of him.
He had taken it, from your room, in the middle of the day, like a common thief.
Something he hadn’t been proud of when he had done it, but seeing those drawings had made him forget all about having stolen your drawings
At first, he had been angry. Unbelievably so.
The thought that someone had watched him and thought they knew who he was, had infuriated him.
But then, he was filled with adoration, pride, intrigue, inspiration, and a feeling he hadn’t felt in a long time.
Happiness
He was happy. So much so that he wanted to know the artist behind the work.
You.
He returned the book to its spot on your shelf and waited for you one evening.
You had just spent the entire day working and seeing the Phantom melt out of the shadows of your room, had been a lot to handle.
Once you had gotten over your shock of having the Phantom in your room, you had sat down and listened as he had told you, in very little words, that he had taken the drawings.
He told you how much your creative ability had intrigued and inspired him.
And he had told you that he wanted to know you, the true you, as you had discovered the truest version of himself.
omg imagine hotch's girlfriend being a defense attorney, it's like opposites attract! 🥵
Oh my GOSH!! YES! I am totally going to write a headcanon for this right now! I did alter it a bit, as the reader is not Hotch’s girlfriend right away.
I hope you like this Anon! Thanks for sending the ask!
The first time he met you he didn’t realize that you were a defense attorney.
Not just any defense attorney, but one of the best ones in the area.
He was immediately drawn in by your confidence and your breathtaking beauty.
You had bumped into him at your favorite downtown coffee shop, not once, not twice, but three times.
The two of you exchanged names and numbers the third time.
That same day you just happened to run into him a second time.
In court.
The two of you hadn’t yet discussed your professions and seeing him, in ‘your’ courtroom, being a witness for the prosecution, was a surprise.
Yet you hadn’t let that stop you from coming in and dominating the case.
After the case, you had run into him in the courthouse lobby.
Well, maybe no run into, as it seemed he was waiting for you.
“Well, Ms. Y/L/N. A defense attorney. Who would have thought?” He may have said it in jest, but his face was set in a stony expression you hadn’t seen on him before.
“What, can’t you handle a defense attorney Agent Hotchner?” You sniped back.
He stepped forward, getting very close to you.
“Why don’t you find out?” He asked, a small smirk coming over his face.
“Maybe I will.” Completely out of character, you had pressed a kiss to his cheek and continued out of the courthouse.
He had called you that evening and the two of you had talked for hours.
Within the week, the two of you were dating.
A weird tension existed in your relationship though.
The two of you never talked about work, but when you managed to run into each other in the courthouse, he returned to his stony-faced exterior.
You became fiesty in response, giving him snide remarks when he greeted you in the lobby.
It was very clear that the two of you were opposites, but somehow it worked.
