Shake It Off || Samerson 

sam-a-rockwell:

Sam couldn’t help but chuckle at Emerson’s comment regarding his lack of attention skills. It was funny, how he had often been the same way, but with art, his focus was so intent and unmoving. Art had taught him patience, stillness, and calm, in a way that nothing else had done before. Maybe Emerson just hadn’t found his “art” yet. 

His hunger subsided slightly, almost as if his body knew that there were more important things to focus on than food. Like the gorgeous man across the table, sipping on his drink. Way more delicious than any dinner could be. And now he had to go and talk about his last relationship… Great. It was the one question he dreaded most, and he’d avoided referencing his relationship history online for that very reason.

The man quickly decided the best way to discuss it was just to be frank and open. Better to scare this guy off sooner rather than drag him along, right? “I’ve actually never been in a serious relationship with a man,” he admitted, resisting the urge to blush. “I didn’t come out as fully gay until a few years ago, and I haven’t met anyone since then. Before that, I identified as bisexual and mostly dated women… it was a denial thing.”

Emerson smiled at Sam, clasping his hands together and resting his elbows on the table. He cocked his head, interested in nearly ever aspect of Sam. The way he moved, the way his eyes glistened, the way he smiled. Everything about him was glorious. Emerson wanted to know everything, see everything. It was kind of ironic, given that he had a secret but still. He wanted to know. Laughing softly, Emerson blushed and ran his hands over his cheeks as if the shade would disappear.

"Well, honestly? Neither have I. The…last long relationship I had was with a girl and..it didn’t end well. But I like men too. I like to keep my options open." He nodded his head and took a sip of his beer, shrugging slightly. "I’m glad you don’t hide it anymore. There’s no reason to. We all gotta figure out what we want at some point. At least, that’s what I always thought." 

Leaning forward, Emerson winked at Sam and then grinned. He looked shy to admit that about himself and Emerson had no idea why. There was no reason to be. “And now you’ve met someone. And he likes you. So I don’t think you have anything to worry about now.” Except maybe the fact that the guy who liked him was a single father. Now that was something to run away from. Emerson didn’t want to tell him about Tate yet anyway.

2 weeks ago - 15 notes - Reblog   #sam  #shake it off  

Couples Therapy || Samerson (New York) 

sam-a-rockwell:

Sam could tell the whole idea of going to work at all, especially at the very same job that had changed both of their lives forever, was really, really daunting for Emerson. He couldn’t blame him- he himself had his worries and doubts about going back. Would he get to the precinct and just stop, turn around, and run in the other direction? Could he really do this? But he wanted, needed, to try. He wouldn’t know, or start to help process what happened, until he tried.

Thinking for a moment, the blond-haired man waited until he was 100% sure of his answer before turning to his husband, locking eyes with him confidently. “I’m still as in love with you as I was before I was shot, Emerson,” he said softly, so as not to involve anyone around them in their conversation. They were in public, sure- the subway was anything but private- but this was all about them two. “I want to grow old with you. I want to have children, and see those children eventually have children. I want those same things, and I know you do, too.”

He took a breath before continuing, trying not to shed any tears. “I know I’ve been… difficult lately. Really difficult. But on the inside, underneath the moping and grumpiness, nothing is different. I promise.” Leaning down, he kissed Emerson’s forehead, holding him close for a moment.

Emerson had faith in his husband. He knew the precinct was his second home and he would never take that from him. That didn’t mean he wasn’t nervous as hell even if Sam would only be in office. That didn’t mean bad things weren’t going to happen. Emerson just had to stay calm. Sam would be safe as best he could and this would make him happy at least. 

Sighing, Emerson looked up at Sam and gulped. He nodded his head in understanding, trying to smile. “I’m still in love with you too,” he murmured, “always will be. I still want everything with you.” Sam was his forever. His home was wherever Sam was. There was no doubt in his mind that would never change. His husband still wanted a family. Emerson always wanted to see him as a father.

He reached up and cupped Sam’s cheek gently, stroking his cheek softly. “That…that’s good to hear, Sam.” He didn’t want to say he had been unsure, but with the lack of intimacy they’d been showing it was difficult to find the warmth. It made Emerson feel better knowing Sam was still there for this. “I understand why you’ve been like this. I’m not holding it against you, babe.” Wrapping his arms around Sam’s waist, Emerson shut his eyes when he felt his lips on his forehead. He ran his fingers down his spine and back up, grinning. It was nice to get everything out. “I can’t wait to see what you have in store for today, husband.” 

2 weeks ago - 15 notes - Reblog   #sam  #couples therapy  

sam-a-rockwell:

God, my husband is just too hot for words.

and I’m alllllll yours ;)

(Source: bornintogreatness)

2 weeks ago - 29 notes - Reblog   #photos  

(Source: definitelynotlow / Crywolf)

3 weeks ago - 4 notes - Reblog   #playlist  

(Source: hot-and-gifted)

3 weeks ago - 20 notes - Reblog   #get out of here  #sam  #photos  

Silence Is Screaming || Sam & Emerson 

Emerson typically didn’t have to go into his office. The agreement he had with his work was that either he worked out of the house or out of the office, and so long as he got his tasks done he was okay. It’d been a while since he decided to go to the office. There’s the museum I’m still working on and I think I need a change of environment…hopefully it’ll help me buckle down. He’d told Sam that. Although Emerson had lived in New York for a while, he still wasn’t that confident with the subway. Sure, the dyslexia thing was an issue, but it was just overall confusing to him. He’d ended up on the other side of the city far too many times to count. Going into the office always made him a little nervous. Sam always worried, too. Be careful, babe. Text me when you get there. It felt good to have a husband who cared so much for him. 

Sam was used to the subways. Usually, all Emerson had to do was give him a small clue as the where he was and Sam could tell him where to go as if he were standing in front of the sign. Emerson grinned to himself and rolled his eyes as he thought about Sam. Cops, he thought; they always knew the city like the back of their hand. It’s what made Emerson feel safe most of the time. 

Today wasn’t different than any other day. Though, Emerson had actually gotten to work correctly. It was coming home in the dark that fucked with him afterwards. He shot Sam a text, angrily grumbling to himself. “On the wrong subway again, I’ll be home soon. Don’t wait to eat, love you.”

When the subway came to a stop, Emerson got off and glanced around for a sign that would help him. He didn’t want Sam to think he was completely dependent. He could read a damn sign, he was going to do this himself tonight. He could. But the next subway wasn’t coming back a while now and Emerson felt his stomach sink. This was going to be a long night. Sighing, Emerson looked around for some place to get a snack. He was already so hungry. Knowing he could find a McDonalds or something, he began searching. It was getting dark now and he scolded himself for leaving later than usual. Being in someplace he wasn’t comfortable with was making him nervous.

He walked passed a few darker spots, sighing when the light above him flickered, and rolled his eyes. “Like some damn horror movie,” he muttered to himself. Emerson wasn’t that scared, but he could feel his hands shaking. That is, until he felt someone grab him and yank him into an ally. “Don’t scream,” the voice whispered in his ear, covering Emerson’s mouth just in time, “I’ve got you, shh, it’s okay. I’ll keep you safe.” 

Safe?! What was safe to this man?! He was much larger than Emerson and could hold his body from wiggling as he tried breaking free. Emerson grasped at the man’s arms, trying to get some leeway out of his arms. He was being dragged farther and farther from the main street and he could feel the panic rising. Where was he being taken? Who was this? Suddenly feeling sick, Emerson tried screaming through the man’s hand, only to have him squeeze tighter. “I told you not to scream,” the voice hissed, shoving his smaller body up against the brick wall. “I didn’t want to do this, but you’re leaving me no choice. Why do they always have to fight? At least you’re not as tough as the last one.” Emerson couldn’t make out the man’s features as he pulled out a syringe and pressed the needle into Emerson’s neck. He whimpered from the sting, feeling his body go numb almost immediately once the man let go and watched with success as he sunk down to the grown. 

"W-what are you…doing?" Emerson slurred, attempting to lift his head up and watch the guy. Fingers dipped into his back pocket, pulling out his phone. "You won’t be needing this," the man mused, turning Emerson’s phone off and throwing it against the wall where it shattered to his satisfaction. His heart began to slow and he felt tears sting his eyes. What was happening? "Please," he whispered, "p-please don’t….don’t do this." What would Sam do? Would he know? "M-my husband.." he tried explaining; my husband is part of the NYPD, he’ll come for you. 

The man squatted next to Emerson, petting his hair out of his face and brushing his thumb down his jaw. “Shh, you have me now.” Emerson let out a small cry as his eyes grew heavier. Please, no, please make this a dream. This has to be a dream. Eyes sliding shut, Emerson didn’t feel the man pick him up bridal style, didn’t feel him lay him down in the backseat of his truck. 

He didn’t wake up until the next morning, in a room made a concrete, in nothing but a shirt and sweats; no remnants of yesterday left.

Couples Therapy || Samerson (New York) 

sam-a-rockwell:

Sam watched as Emerson’s face turned a bit paler than normal, his eyes widened, and his expression fell. He’d known it was going to be a tough sell, and it was just to go back to the office to do paperwork. Emerson was the kind of husband that worried, and being shot gave him a fully legitimate reason to worry. But Sam was miserable cooped up at home, and he had to find something to do. And if it made them some money and weaned them off his disability checks, even better.

"No, I won’t be back out for a while," he assured Emerson, using the muscles he had left in his bad arm to hold his husband’s hand tight. "I made sure that the contract details exactly how long I’ll be retraining, and that it will almost entirely be training within the walls of the precinct. I’ll mostly be doing the in-office work- computers, phone calls, traces, things like that." 

He looked into Emerson’s eyes. Baby steps. That was what they needed right now, for both of their sakes. “I have it at home, right next to the adoption paperwork.” He’d been waiting for the right time to bring that up again, too. He’d told Emerson from his hospital bed that they were eligible, but Sam’s moodiness and physical therapy had caused their plans to start a family to take a backseat. And now that he felt love and light in his life again, he thought he might just be ready.

Emerson nodded his head as he chewed his lip nervously. He would gulp back his fears for Sam, knowing his husband needed to do something fulfilling rather than sit at home on the couch. It was just hard to do when Sam had been shot. He was worried, concerned, and just scared. “A-alright,” Emerson agreed warily, looking at Sam’s blue eyes and trying to find a smile. “I think…it’ll be good for you.” What were the chances of that happening again anyway? Emerson hoped they weren’t large.

He felt himself blush at the mention of their adoption papers. It wasn’t something they’d entirely talked about since Sam had been in the hospital. Though, they hadn’t really been in the position lately, anyway. “So…look over the contact,” he murmured, glancing down. Sam still wanted a baby together, right? It just wasn’t something they seemed to talk about anymore. Emerson understood that things had been hectic but he always was good at over thinking to the worst case scenario. 

Glancing back up at his husband, Emerson licked his lips. “You still wanna look over the adoption stuff, too?” he asked, inwardly preparing for whatever Sam told him. There was no doubt in Emerson’s mind he wanted a child with Sam. They had jobs, their dog, a place. They were married! It felt like…to complete everything they needed a baby, too. Theirs. 

1 month ago - 15 notes - Reblog   #sam  #couples therapy  

Blackout || Emerson & Sam 

sam-a-rockwell:

shmitt-emerson:

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1 month ago - 77 notes - Reblog   #sam  #blackout  

Friends & Lovers

where we belong

Emerson Philip Shmitt.

Forgetful. Hyper. Confused. Curious. Happy. In love.

[1x1 roleplay blog, get off my back, I own nothing]
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