#Spencer is a lesbian
Explore tagged Tumblr posts
Text
Monsttober week 2: Angel
The Farm of Spencer Spector; Remembrance and Realizations
It was a crisp autumn day in Ashwood, the graveyard was quite save for two visitors. One was an older woman named Spencer Spector, the other was younger and named Mic.
âMan⊠this place is way cleaner than the one in my home town.â Mic said as he looked at the headstones they passed.
âOh thats sad.â Spencer said over her shoulder, a bouquet of Violets and Lilacs in her hand.
âOh- I don't mean trash- it was just over grown in a lot of places. There was even a club in highschool that petitioned to get it âspruced upâ.âÂ
âAnd howâd that go?â
âNot that well until one of them offered to buy pizza for the class who had the most signatures, she was only able to do so because her dad owned the local jewelry shop.â
Spencer chuckled.
âFood is a big motivator, especially sweets.â
âI know right.âÂ
The two approached a headstone with an angel carved into it, Spencer stopped in front of it, Mic off to the side. Mic read the name on the headstone.
âAmissa Spector, Loving wifeâ
âI wonder who they were.â Mic thought as Spencer placed the flowers and crossed her arms against the wind.Â
They wanted to ask, but hesitated.Â
âNo, itâd be rude.â they told themselves, so they fidgeted with their necklace.Â
Mean while Spencer glanced over at them, she was old enough to recognize curiosity when she saw it, and smiled.
âThanks for driving me out here, I really need to get fitted for glasses.â she started, Mic jumped.
âUh⊠no problem.â they said.Â
A moment of silence went by.
âYou can ask if you want,â Spencer said, seeing Micâs surprised face she added, âI know most people don't like talking about those theâve lost but, I like talking about her.â
Mic glanced towards the angel on headstone.
âOkâŠwho was she?â
Spencers face got a reflective look on it,
âShe was my best friend. We got married in a courthouse- we couldn't afford wedding dresses so we just stole our prom dressesâŠ. Neither of our parents agreed to it.âÂ
Mic watched the old womans face as she paused for a moment, Mic was unsure if she was fighting tears or just trying to remember.
âIn fact she had to steal this ring from her motherâs jewelry box, the only guests we had were our friends who stuck with us from highschool.â Spencer giggled fondly, âand her uncle. He owned a tattoo shop and had basically been disowned by his family- except for her. He sat at the back of the hall to make sure our parents wouldn't run in an object. He also gave us the van we lived out of for nine months.â
Spencer looked up at the cloud covered sky as she reminisce,
âWe were finally able to buy the farm I live on now, we had no idea it was such a supernatural hot spot of course. The first time we met anyone was during winter, and she greeted them with a shotgun. It was Mapleâs older brother.â
âMark?â
âYep.â
âWas he in human form?â
âNope, but he changed back the minute he saw the gun.â Spencer laughed.
âI bet that conversation was awkward at all.â Mic smiled, remembering when they met Maple and Mark, and his surprise when he learned more than just werewolves exist.Â
Spencer ran her thumb over her wedding ring, âShe was loud and brave, and would fight till the end of time if she could. You should have heard what she said to my parents when I introduced her and they freaked out. She almost punched my dad!â
âWeâll he sounded like a jerk, so I don't blame her.â
Spencer laughed.
âyouâd of gotten along with her. Though- sheâd probably try to talk you into a less heavy eyeliner look.â
âYeah- that wouldn't of worked.â Mic smiled down at the headstone. Then he frowned, and started picked at a loose thread in their fingerless gloves. â⊠sorry you two had to live in such a crappy time.â
Spencer looked at them.
âAnd with such crappy families too. Neither of you deserve that.â
Spencer raised an eyebrow and smiled,
âActually⊠after my dad died my mom came and found me.â she started, âshe came to apologize, said she didn't want to die angry like my dad did. Sheâs not burred here- though- sheâs with my dad.â
Mic couldn't help their expression from becoming disgruntled as Spencer talked, so they turned away.Â
âI remember, when she was in the hospital, she said sheâd tell my dad how wrong they were once she died. I wonder if theyâve moved on yet.â
âHeh, im glad she could get over her prejudicesâŠâ Mic mumbled, not knowing they were loud enough for Spencer to hear them. âsome peoples families cant.â
Spencer looked sympathetically at him, then smiled.Â
âOh- she may have been my mom but she wasnt my family,â spencer said, Mic looked at her with a raised eyebrow. ânot till after she apologized anyways.âÂ
âYou know the phrase âblood is thicker than waterâ? It actually started as âthe blood of the covent is thicker than the water of the wombâ, which narrows down to the fact that the family that cares about you is the one that matters, sure- your biological one made you, but the one you make yourself can be just as important.â
Mic looked off to the side as he thought about what she had said. Then smiled.Â
Spencer rubbed and blew on her hands,Â
âwe should get back to the farm before it gets colder, feel like stopping by the donut shop on the way back and getting a tea or coffee?â
Mic nodded, âIf they have hot chocolate, then sure.âÂ
Week 1
#monsttober2024#my writting#not exactly a part 2#more of a 2nd instalment#or 2nd episode#these could easily be stand alone#but i decided to have a continued narrative#nonbinary#nonbinary charicter#lesbian#sapphic#sapphic marrage#death#cw death#graveyard#Spencer is a lesbian
2 notes
·
View notes
Text
Best duos are lesbian and their weird little freak bff
#criminal minds#elle greenaway#i accept all headcannons for Elle#but my fav is that she's a lesbian#elle criminal minds#criminal minds Elle#spencer reid#spencer criminal minds#spencer reid criminal minds#reid criminal minds#reid cm#emily prentiss#emily criminal minds#prentiss criminal minds#prentiss#lesbian Emily prentiss#criminal minds headcanons#lesbian Elle greenaway
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
Watching criminal minds is a wild experience, because one minute youâre interested in the serial killer stories and then the next minute youâre a whore who has a gun kink
#criminal minds#criminal minds evolution#jemily#jennifer jareau#jj#emily prentiss#lgbt#jj jareau#aj cook#paget brewster#penelope garcia#kirsten vangsness#aaron hotchner#derek morgan#luke alvez#tara lewis#aisha tyler#lesbian#bisexual#wlw#gay#queer#my post#Spencer Reid#jill gideon#david rossi#matthew gray gubler
587 notes
·
View notes
Text
Emily Prentiss being straight is about as believable as Spencer Reid being neurotypical.
#poor fucker works with fbi profilers and is still somehow out here rawdogging undiagnosed autism#she is a lesbian your honor#autistic spencer reid#criminal minds#emily prentiss#spencer reid#shitpost
332 notes
·
View notes
Text
lgbt people witnessing straight peopleâs business
#this shot is so funny out of context#these gay af fbi agents#emily prentiss#jennifer jareau#spencer reid#lesbian#bisexual#lgbt#lgbtqia#lgbtq community#criminal minds#7x20
564 notes
·
View notes
Note
Here's a dialogue prompt for Emily please! Try this out pls. Love you Kam sm sm. "So why are you here?" "To make a fool of myself." ok ty lysm
even though i watched u type this, the wording makes me giggle every time i look at it.
emily prentiss x tech analyst!reader <3
warnings: fem!reader, cannon typical violence, very brief allusions to sexual assault (nothing happens!), angst and fluff! mutual pining.
word count: 5.4k
Emily is the loveliest thing you've ever seen and you can't imagine how she could ever possibly like you back. She enjoys the game, though, and teasing you is her favorite hobby.
-
Itâs a sunny day. Warmth trickles down with the scattered light through the leaves. Patterns trace your arms, throwing your skin into a collage of different shapes and shades. Leaning back on your elbows, you watch people mill about the park. You look back down at your arm after a few more minutes, this time focused on the small watch resting there. With a sigh, you stand up and dust off your pants before picking up the small blanket you laid out and tucking it into your bag.Â
You walk back to work, enjoying the sounds of the people around you. You lingered too long at the park during your break and are hoping that nobody notices your slightly late return. Maybe the team will be in a meeting, gruesome pictures you never quite learned to stomach plastered on the board, entirely oblivious to your tardiness.Â
Unlikely, but a welcome thought soothing your anxiety as you push the door open and scan your badge at the security desk.Â
âWelcome back,â the security guard says, smiling at you over his paperback. Heâs an old greying man and you vaguely recognize him. You think heâs new and send him a warm smile in return.Â
âThanks,â you glance at his name badge, âMartin!â
You walk past him and step into the elevator. âWait!â A voice calls and you reach forward to hit the hold button instinctively before you register the voice as Emilyâs.Â
She jogs into the elevator with you, smiling gratefully. âThanks, Iâm already running a little behind.â She lifts a container and shakes it a little. The label is from the Italian bistro across the street, about a ten-minute walk away and always nearly triple that in wait time.Â
âBrave of you to go there during your lunch,â you joke, returning her smile and pressing the button for your floor.Â
You hope she canât see how your hands shake as you reach forward.
âI know, I just love their Pasta Brado. Have you tried it?â
âCanât say I have. Iâm boring, I usually go for the parm.â
âYouâre not boring,â she says so earnestly that you canât help but blush. You cough as an excuse to raise your hand to your face and hopefully hide it some. âYou do have to try it, though. Here,â she offers you the plastic box.Â
âOh, I couldnât. And I already ate.â You ignore the way your chest hurts a little at how enthusiastic she is. The worst part? She doesnât even know how endearing her simple kindness, her casual enthusiasm, is to you.Â
âTomorrow, then. We can go together.â The elevator doors open as she says it and she steps out with an affirmative nod to solidify it. âDonât try to bail out on me either, I know where to find you.â
âYeah, I'm okay,â you say, feeling lame as you step out behind her. âI would love to.â Sheâs too far to hear you, though, already heading to Spencerâs desk and jumping right into his conversation with Morgan.Â
Someone says your last name and you turn on your heel to see Hotch and cringe slightly. âI was trying to find you.â Itâs a kinder way of him reminding you that youâre nearly ten minutes late back from your lunch.Â
âSorry, sir.â
âItâs fine. Do you have the reports finished from last week's trip to Huston?â
âYes, sir, theyâre at my desk. One moment.â
-
You and Emily donât go to the bistro the next day because she and the team are sent to a small town in Kansas that night.Â
âIâll owe you lunch,â she says, hand on the back of your desk chair and brushing your shoulder as the team rushes to the jet.Â
âDonât worry about it!â You reassure her.
âIâm taking you to lunch,â she calls over her shoulder, pretend-glaring, âyou will try that Brado!â
And then sheâs gone, leaving you giddy and breathless.Â
You know sheâs just being friendly â she treats Spencer, Morgan, and JJ all the same as you â but her efforts to spend one-on-one time with you outside of work still have you feeling like a schoolgirl passed a note from her crush in class.Â
You try to remind your heart to stop singing because Emily probably isnât even gay and definitely isnât interested. Instead, Garcia scares the shit out of you when she interrupts your inner monologue.Â
âLunch with Emily? Things are getting serious in your work marriage.â You hadnât seen her walk into the room and jump at her voice, hand jumping to your mouth to suppress a yelp. âSorry! Sorry!â
âItâs okay, didnât see you.â
âYour loss, I look fantastic today.â
âAs always,â you smile up at her, nose wrinkling and genuine fondness filling your senses.Â
âCareful, wouldnât want a workplace affair,â she jokes, leaning against your desk and picking up the stress ball you keep handy.Â
âStop,â you moan in good nature. âNobody else calls us work wives.â
âThatâs just because they donât have my brilliance and excellent observational skills.â
âNor do they have the same privy to my more personal thoughts,â you say, glancing up at her before returning to your paperwork. With the team leaving so quickly to tend to a missing child's case, youâre not getting home in time to cook dinner but are hoping to leave early enough to grab food instead of resorting to your freezer stash.Â
âI would hope not. You know I canât be replaced, baby.â
âDoes Morgan know you talk to all your work besties like this?â
âI most certainly do not. Youâre a regular bestie, not a work bestie.â A wink and then her expression sobers. âI do have an actual reason for visiting your humble cubical, though.â
âHm?â
âIâm going to need extra hands for this case. Itâs time-sensitive, as usual, and seems like it will be particularly tricky.â
âYes maâam,â you say, dropping your pen and standing to follow her.Â
Your position at the bureau is kind of a catch-all. Most of your time is spent logging data, building reports, and doing general research for the team. Occasionally, though, you jump in to help Garcia with real-time research. Nothing as high-stakes as her direct assignments, more background work. Calling offices to talk to managers, combing through more meticulous data, generic census material to rule out obvious dead ends.Â
Itâs stressful work that technically isnât what youâre paid for but you never complain. Your team saves lives, consistently putting themselves in the line of danger. If you have to spend a few hours a month helping Garcia call a suspect's manager at McDonald's to see if he still works there, itâs literally the least you can do.Â
âYes, so, it looks like our unsubâŠâ
You drown out Garciaâs brief about information you already have sitting in front of you and begin vetting possible suspects from the large pool her system created.
Itâs going to be a long night. You think about future Brado to cheer you up.Â
-
âReid, Prentiss take the back,â Hotchâs voice fills your ears. You imagine the pair nodding and splitting off from the group.Â
This is your least favorite part of helping the team with active investigations â listening in on the calls. Itâs rare that you and Garcia join the line when theyâre approaching the unsub but, with you helping her, it isnât a risk to distract Garcia and a much quicker method of getting any new information the team needs. Itâs a new system youâve only tried thrice, unsure how having microphones on 24/7 will work, and it grants you and the team more fluid communication.
Still, adrenaline floods your veins as you listen to their coms, the sounds of Garcia typing a constant behind their voices, imagining every way this could go wrong.Â
You suspect the girl is still alive, the uncle doesnât seem to have any reason to kill her just yet, but your fear for her grows with every minute.Â
âClear!â
Your eyes fall to the receipts flooding your screen. Ammo. A new rifle and pistol. The team knows but the evidence of this unsubs ability to hurt any of your friends, your family, isnât helping your nerves.Â
âI think heâs going to the roof!â Morganâs voice, clear in the comms.Â
You click out of the documents. Two swift motions on the screen. The firm press of the button.Â
âMorgan, youâre on foot. Prentiss, follow him. Everyone else in vans, go!â
âGarcia, map out possible escape routes from the roof,â you instruct.Â
She nods, screens shifting immediately. She puts on her own headset with one hand and clicks on the call and starts to bark information to Hotch.Â
âGot her!â Reidâs voice sounds and you deflate a little. He mutes as he begins to console the small girl.Â
You know you can take off your headset now, leave the call, and go to your paperwork. There isnât much more you can do to help â youâre sure thatâs what youâre supposed to do â but you stay on anyway, listening.Â
âRight on Elmore!â Morgan calls. You find the street on Garciaâs screen, eyes tracing the path you think theyâre taking.Â
âWeâll try to cut him off,â Rossi says and you can hear tires in the background of the call. The click of a steering wheel cutting to the side too quickly. Someoneâs labored breathing â probably Morganâs as he dead sprints.Â
âStop! Put your hands up!â Emily shouts. The firmness in her voice makes you sit up straighter in your chair.Â
You hear something that sounds vaguely like, âbitch,â before a loud pop drowns anything else out.Â
âEmily!â Morganâs voice, more pops.Â
Gunfire. Thatâs gunfire, your brain recognizes.Â
Your blood has gone cold.
âWe need a medic!â Morgan shouts. Hotchâs line blinks red, going dead as he calls the ambulance. âEmily, Emily.â
Rustling. Cars. Sirens. Morganâs line goes dead after you hear a car door slam shut. Then Reidâs and Rossiâs. Emilyâs is the last to stay green, blinking.
You and Garcia stare at each other as you listen to Emily be loaded into an ambulance. Listen to Morgan tell the team, voice far away and barely tangible, that the unsub only managed to fire out one shot before he downed him.Â
Neither of you can hear where she was shot or how badly injured she is before Emilyâs line goes red as well.
-
âEmily?â You call softly, rapping your knuckles softly on the frame of the cracked hospital door.Â
Your name, faint, answers you and you take that as permission to nudge the door open. The room looked dark from the hallway but Emily has the small lamp embedded on the wall switched on, throwing her face into harsh shadow.Â
âHey, you,â you say, walking in, arms full. âI brought things.â
âYou didnât have to do that,â she says, trying to sit herself up further and wincing as the motion pulls on her stitches in her abdomen.Â
âWait, let me help you,â you say, setting your things down and reaching out a hand.Â
You wait for her nod before touching her, letting her grasp your arm and looping your other arm around the back of her waist to take most of her weight yourself.Â
âThanks,â she mumbles. You can tell she hates feeling useless, hates needing help for something as simple as sitting up, so you drop the subject with a nod and kind smile.Â
You turn around to the small rolling tray where you put your things down, pulling two black containers out from a plastic bag. You feel silly and very awkward as you turn around to show them to her.Â
âI know itâs probably not quite what you meant but,â you set the containers down on her bed and pop one open.Â
âThe Pasta Brado! Oh man, I was going to treat you.â Sheâs pouting through a smile, attempting to put on an upset facade and failing miserably.Â
Itâs so cute that you struggle with what to say next.Â
âThank you, really. You can pull up that chair, if youâre hungry now.â
You grab the chair sheâs motioned to and drag it to sit next to her. âIâm hungry if you are. It might be a little cold, though, itâs kind of a far walk.â
âYou walked here?â Emily asks, tone appalled and face comically shocked.Â
âYeah, my car broke down last week. Iâve been walking to work â itâs actually really nice out right now â and I couldnât find a cab from the bistro.â You busy yourself with the food while you talk, opening the second container, setting it on her legs, and unwrapping the plastic cutlery for her.Â
âJesus! You didnât need to come and see me if you donât have a car. You didnât need to come at all, actually. I really appreciate it,â she amends, seeing how your bashful smile freezes on your face, reaching forward as if to touch your face and brushing your shoulder instead. âItâs really sweet of you but you didnât need to walk all that way. Isnât it like a twenty-minute walk from here?â
Over thirty, but you nod anyway, knowing it wonât help your case to correct her. âItâs not a big deal. You were shot in the stomach, of course I wanted to see you.â
âAh, so you wouldn't want to see me otherwise,â she teases, nodding and pushing her pasta around with her fork. She doesnât even try to conceal her grin.Â
âHa ha, very funny,â you mumble. You take a bite of your food and your eyes widen. âOh my god.â
âI knew you would love it,â she beams, watching your expression as you taste the food. You you she meant to say it in a gloating way but you swear you can hear a sort of fondness behind the words. Something in you warms at her ability to know you so well.Â
You tell yourself youâre overreacting about both thoughts.Â
âYou were right â Emily this is unfairly good.â
âOh, I know,â she says, taking her own bite and letting out an exaggerated moan, complete with an eye roll. You giggle and she smiles at you. âThank you, this is exactly what I needed.â
âYouâre welcome,â you say, holding her eye contact.Â
She's been in the hospital for three days, transferred back to Virginia last night; her hair is unwashed and unbrushed, and sheâs wearing no makeup and a hospital gown.Â
Sheâs still the prettiest girl youâve ever seen.Â
-
Your car is fixed by the time Emily is released from the hospital two days later and you offer to take her home.Â
âHi Sergio,â you greet the cat brushing against your legs as Emily disengages the alarm.Â
You set her things down by the door before turning to offer her your arm. Emily doesnât pretend that she doesnât need the help when itâs just you two, something youâre grateful for after watching her struggle with the team around, and lets you guide her to her bedroom.Â
You set about making her comfortable, turning down her sheets and propping the pillows up so she can sit.Â
âIâve got it,â she laughs, playfully pushing away your hands.Â
You laugh along with her, raising your hands and backing away. âIâm going to go put the rest of your stuff away and get you a drink.â
âPerfect, Iâll take an old-fashioned. Donât forget the cherry.â
You roll your eyes at her, scoffing and leaving her room.Â
You throw her clothes and go-bag in her laundry room before making her a glass of water and another glass of juice. Once youâre sure sheâs settled in her bed with her book, you return to the kitchen to make her a few dinners, ignoring her protests.Â
-
Emily is back in the field much sooner than you would have liked.Â
âI was cleared by the doctors,â she tells you, coat slung over her arm as she digs through her bag for her badge.Â
You smile at Martin, sending him a mock exasperated look, before she finds her ID and shows it to him.Â
âIt still seems too soon, Em,â you persist, reaching forward to push the elevator button and turning so you can lean back to watch her face.Â
âEm?â Emily asks, the hint of a smile pulling up the left corner of her mouth.Â
You sort of feel like you could die in that moment, just from the heat that simple gesture surges through you.Â
âIt just sort of slipped out, sorry,â you say, thoroughly embarrassed.Â
The elevator dings and the doors open, throwing you off balance for a second. This doesnât help your already flared nerves as you stumble back and drop your bag. You reach down to gather it and the files scattered across the floor.Â
Youâre kneeling to stuff everything in your bag when Emily crosses your line of sight again, wide smile on her face â teeth fully on display and nose scrunched, you are in desperate need of help â holding out your notepad.
âI think the nicknameâs sweet. I kind of like the idea of having a name only one person, only you, calls me.â
All of the air has left this godforsaken elevator, the heat must be on, you stare dumbly at her as she reaches forward to grab your bag and put the rest of your papers inside of it for you.Â
And then, realizing you look like an absolute idiot, you snap back into your body and cough slightly. The doors ding and open again, you grab your bag from her and stand slowly. Smiling at her, still crouched on the floor and looking, amused, up at you through her eyelashes, you say, âOkay. Thanks, then, Emmy.â
You walk away after that brief flash of confidence, telling yourself youâre just imagining how you swear her face flushed bright at your comment.Â
And if Morgan mentions a few minutes that Emily seems flusters, well, who can blame you for floating on that high for a few days?
Except she doesnât let it go.Â
She corners you on your break in the kitchenette. Literally. She catches you when youâre examining the coffee pot that has been making concerning gurgles for the past few days and leans on the counter behind you, effectively blocking your exit.Â
Not that you really want to leave.Â
Sheâs wearing a red tank top and dark jeans, her hair is loose around her shoulders, eyes steadily trained on your face as you work.Â
âHello,â you say, quiet in a way youâre not normally.Â
âHi.â
âWhatâre you doing?â You ask after a few more moments of her silently staring at you while you pretend to know what youâre doing with a screwdriver.Â
âEnjoying the view.â
You drop your screwdriver and relish in the sound of her laugh.Â
-
Youâd love to say that you had some suave answer to return her charm but you think you spent it all that morning with your boldness.Â
Youâre not shy but confidence doesnât run in your blood either. Youâd say youâre pretty normal â average. You donât find much wrong with that, you know you have other qualities that build you up into an interesting person. You love your friends and coworkers deeply, for one. And have an intense trust in them and their abilities.Â
That trust is always tested in your day-to-day at work but never more than now as you feel the car around you make turns at highway speeds. You think youâre on some sort of back road but itâs hard to tell from the trunk given the obvious lack of windows.Â
Youâre calmer than you thought you would be if kidnapped.Â
Groaning after one particularly rough turn that has you jostling against the sides of the trunk, you allow your head to thump back and stare at the inside of the dark car. Light breaks through the cracks of the hinges of the trunk and you wonder if water trickles through when it rains.Â
Youâve been in here too long to consider if youâre focused on the wrong things. Youâre scared shitless, of course, but the adrenaline faded about an hour into your drive and now youâre just bored.Â
Imagine that â bored as fuck in the trunk of a stranger's car, wrists burning from the rope and jaw sore from where itâs been forced open too long by the fabric tied around the back of your head.Â
Youâre just allowing yourself to reimagine your morning with Emily when the car stops and the engine cuts.Â
You snap back into the present, energy flooding your system again as your brain flicks into overdrive. You might spend your days paper-pushing behind a desk, but you passed your physical. Youâre smart, youâve heard the stories of how these victims survive captivity.Â
When the trunk pops open, you squeeze your eyes shut to prevent pain from the sudden lack of light. You donât want to be blinded and the action has the added benefit of pleasing your captor. He put a hood over your hood when he grabbed you, muttering in your ear in tense tones that you would do best to not even try to see him.Â
Say what you will, you usually do a pretty good job at following directions. This one is easy and happens to be number one on your list right now â keep him happy so he keeps you alive.Â
âGood girl,â a gruff voice says before a calloused hand gropes the back of your neck to yank you forward. Scratchy fabric envelops your head and your hot breath bounces back against you, trapped against the fabric of the hood.Â
You stand when his hands start to grab your waist, pulling yourself to your knees and allowing yourself to be lifted from the trunk.
You want to run but know nowâs not the time.Â
âLook at how well-behaved you are!â His breath is wet against your neck. He stands too close, hands clawing under the hem of your shirt to cling to your skin.Â
He walks you forward like that, chest pressed against your back and breath slithering down the collar of your shirt to hang uncomfortably over your collarbones.Â
Itâs becoming increasingly more obvious what this sicko wants from you and your stomach is twisting at the thought. You urge the team to hurry up, knowing your absence would have been missed ages ago. They have to be looking for you by now. And, with how sloppy this dude seems to be, he must have left a plethora of clues waiting to be found.Â
You have to repeat this to yourself as you hear a door lock click.Â
âTook you long enough. This is the girl? Sheâs kind of ⊠well,â the second man kisses his teeth with a sharp sound. Youâre pushed forward again. âWhatever floats your boat man.â The door shuts and locks behind you. The second man's voice fades as he talks, disinterested.Â
You wonder if itâs wrong to feel slightly insulted right now.Â
âThis way, doll.â
You listen. Itâs saving your life to be complicit in his directions, so you listen. Still, youâre shoved harshly to the floor once you get to where he wants you, knees striking what feels like cement. Before you can recover, your cheek stings and your head is whipping to the side from a sudden slap.Â
Then, thereâs a kick to your ribs. You fall onto your side, too winded to even cry out, lips falling open in a silent scream. A boot in your belly. Your ribs again, your hip and back.Â
âWhy?â You manage to sob out. âWhy, why?â
You donât get an answer.
-
Youâre not overly religious but you thank whatever heavens or universe exists that he leaves you alone once heâs done kicking the shit out of you. Your ribs are bruised but the worst you expected hasnât happened.Â
The boredom returns as you lay with throbbing ribs. At least one is broken and every breath hurts. You canât imagine sitting up and, luckily, with your hands tied behind your back, itâs not really an option anyway.Â
It must be near an hour later when youâre fading out of consciousness â a purposeful choice on your part to save your energy â when you hear the front door burst down.Â
âFBI! Hands where I can see them!â Morgan. You nearly weep but think better when your stuttered gasp makes your side throb. âWhat the fuck?â You hear shouted in reply. âRobb, what the fuck man.â
There isnât much of a resistance from the living room. The second man is shouting at what you can only assume is the first â your initial kidnapper â but thereâs nothing else other than that.Â
âClear!â You hear Hotch call. Spencer replies and then you hear the door nearest you open.Â
His voice calls out your name. You deflate against the floor. A second, you know heâs scanning the room with his gun before holstering it. âClear! I need a medic!â
Hands, gentle, against your face, removing the hood. Swifter after that, removing your gag, and then hand binds.Â
âHey, Spence,â you say, trying to smile up at him.Â
âShh, youâre okay. Weâve got you.â He starts to support your weight behind your shoulders and the pain that brings is too intense to prevent your yelp.Â
âOh my god, is she okay?â You hear Emily ask seconds before you see her. She looks concerned, hair now in a tight ponytail and FBI vest strapped over her chest. She whispers your name once and then a second time, reaching forward to gently brush your hair out of your eyes.Â
âHey, pretty,â you say, words tumbling out of your mouth before you can catch them.
âHi beautiful,â she answers, reply just as soft as your own. Earnest.Â
It makes your heart ache and, for the first time since being yanked off the road walking to grab lunch, you start to cry.Â
âHey, hey, Iâm sorry. Iâm sorry, beautiful, itâs okay. Youâre okay.â She repeats this as youâre lifted by the paramedics and cry harder.Â
She repeats it when they stitch up where kicks burst the skin over your cheekbone open, repeats it as she trails a hand down your arm in gentle patterns while they examine your ribs and confirm that youâve broken two, maybe three.Â
She tries with you in the ambulance.Â
You canât help but think about being on the phone when you heard Emily be shot weeks earlier. You squeeze your eye shut as they insert the IV, beyond grateful that sheâs there to hold your hand while they do it. The tear that falls down your cheek has nothing to do with the pain and everything to do with the thought that you couldnât have been there for her in the same way.Â
An odd thought, you realize, but itâs the one youâre stuck with as you drift away when the pain medicine enters your system.Â
-
Youâre sent home three days later. You insist on spending the night alone, afraid to admit youâre scared because, honestly, nothing much happened to you.Â
Oh, of course, everyone tries to convince you otherwise but you know theyâve all had it worse. You were gone from the bureau for about eight hours and spent most of it bored.Â
So you force yourself to spend the night alone. You donât need help moving around or doing things for yourself so you convince yourself you donât need help.Â
Youâre cooking dinner when the doorbell rings. You wipe your hands with a dish towel and take your time walking to the door to look through the peephole. You donât know who took you yet, you havenât asked and nobody has said, but you can imagine seeing him through the door. Waiting for you, waiting to kill you this time.Â
Okay, yeah, maybe Spencer was right when he talked about PTSD and usual levels of anxiety, but youâre so tired of him being so right all of the time that you really want to prove him right.
There is no man standing on the other side of the door, though. Instead, you see Emily, holding a plate wrapped in tin foil and looking serene in your apartment hallway.Â
You open the door quickly, unlatching it and turning off your alarm with a few clicks. âEmily?â
âAh, man, I was getting used to Emmy,â she jokes, stepping inside with a smile in your direction and kicking off her shoes.Â
You canât think of an answer so you just smile at her, hoping sheâll take the lead. Youâre tired and she must see it because she offers the plate in her hands to you once the door is closed and the alarm is reengaged.Â
âRossi sent me with it with explicit instructions to not let you share it.â
You giggle and take the plate. âIâll have to tell him thank you. Itâs kind of out of your way to come all this way, though, isnât it?â
âNot out of my way at all,â she says, words dripping with meaning as she holds your eyes. âI would have come even if Rossi didnât have food for you.â
âSo why are you here?â
âTo make a fool of myself,â she says, casually, like thatâs something people say every day, âprobably. Youâve just gotten back from the hospital and I know you said you wanted to be alone, but,â she swallows and her words are becoming more rushed as she speaks, âI said the same thing and you still stayed.â
âEmily?â You ask, setting the plate down on your hallway table and clearing your throat. âAh, Emmy?â You amend when she cuts you a look. Your attempt to diffuse the tension doesnât work and she steps closer so youâre toe to toe.
âThat doesnât really answer your question, though. Youâre sweet enough that you would let it go, but,â she shrugs, reaching forward to gently loop her fingers around your wrists. âStop me if this is awful timing. Please,â she says, leaning forward and staring into your eyes.Â
You feel like youâre suffocating, but if this is death, youâll greet it gladly in the irises of Emily Prentiss. Youâre caught in the trap of the moment, heart hardly breathing, all aches and sores forgotten because Emily is leaning closer, breath fanning across your face. You feel intoxicated, ensnared.Â
Everything that has ever been exists here, now, in this moment. Every breath used to blow out birthday candles and blow away eyelashes â breaths with purpose, with wishes, with intent â exists between the two of you as she leans closer and closer. Closer, still, and how can so much distance exist between you two when youâve been standing so closely?
âJust, stop me, if you want,â she whispers against your lips, eyes falling shut.Â
Time yawns again, freezing. Your eyes open, hers closed, beats of seconds pausing. Hesitating for you to hold this moment in your hands. Youâre grateful to appreciate it because she really is so lovely. Her bangs are pushed back from her face with a headband â imagine that! Emily owns headbands! â and you can see every detail of her face. Her elegant nose, her slim eyebrows, her narrow, prominent, lips.
And then your heart finally catches up, beats loudly, cracks whatever fragile plane of glass holding the moment so perfectly still, and her lips are meeting yours.Â
You gasp into her mouth, hands breaking out of her hold to grab her face. Youâre afraid that sheâs going to pull away before this kiss can be fully real. Before you can actually taste her â lemon cake and rain and warmth. Before you can memorize the feel of her lips pressed against your own before you can drag her closer and slip your hands into her hair.Â
But she doesnât pull away. She meets your enthusiasm with a sigh and then enthusiasm tenfold. You can feel relief in the kiss, feel how she relaxes into you. She takes a step forward and you take one back half the amount to account for it.Â
A tilt of your head and itâs better, impossibly. Sheâs firm, sturdy, beautiful. Confident. Lovely, lovely, lovely.Â
And then she reaches forward to hold you to her, hands brushing your ribs to wrap around your back and you canât hold in the gasp of pain that causes you to stiffen. You want to take it back, want to ignore the pain, want to keep her near, but she wonât allow it.
âOh, Iâm so so sorry. Are you okay? Iâm sorry.â You smush the apologies against her lips, removing one hand from her hand to guide her arms around your shoulders where they wonât hurt. âOkay! Okay,â she giggles, leaning back with several short kisses that do nothing to satiate you. âI need to know youâre okay.â
She can obviously tell she hasnât hurt you too bad by your reaction, but the sweet caution in her voice has you melting further.Â
âIâm perfect.â
#criminal minds#cm#bubbs.writes#x reader#fluff#criminal minds x reader#emily x reader#emily prentiss x reader#emily prentiss fanfic#emily prentiss fanfiction#emily prentiss is a lesbian#cannon typical voilence#tw kidnapping#tw allusions to sa#tw guns#tw gunshots wounds#emily prentiss#spencer reid#aaron hotchner#derek morgan#penelope garcia#prentiss x reader#it didn't come up naturally but the security guard is the whodunnit#bad guy martin#apologies to all martins and robbs#i wanna write more with these two#so lmk if you wanna see more#i have several other asks in my inbox but I wanna give them all attention and care#so keep sending them and don't get discouraged!#i just love u all lots and wanna give everything the same attention and energy <3
332 notes
·
View notes
Text
bonus:
#reductress#humor#memes#parker#alec hardison#eliot spencer#nate ford#sophie devereaux#nate x sophie#nate x sophie x sterling#parker x hardison x eliot#leverage ot3#harry wilson#bi harry wilson#bi parker#bi eliot spencer#bi alec hardison#bi nate ford#bi sophie devereaux#bi jim sterling#breanna casey#lesbian breanna casey#lgbt headcanons#thank u google font generator you saved me from posting my shitty photoshop of editing#leverage#leverage redemption#mine#btw I know I reused the parker one but Iâm doing a Theme here
566 notes
·
View notes
Text
Emily Prentiss â Icons
#agatha all along#criminal minds emily prentiss#emily prentiss#paget brewster#emily prentiss icons#emily prentiss pfps#criminal minds#jemily#jj jareau#jennifer jareau#a.j. cook#aj cook#david rossi#jason gideon#spencer reid#mgg#matthew gray gubler#matthew grey gubler#penelope garcia#derek morgan#jj x emily#emily x jj#aaron hotchner#cat adams#cm evolution#cmedit#cm spoilers#paget brewster icons#paget brewster pfps#lesbian
162 notes
·
View notes
Text
Psych for greatest ally
I like how no one in the Psych universe is homophobic despite the show being older. Sometimes people are gay and literally nobody cares. Lassie casually mentioned his mother and her girlfriend and the show treated it like any other romantic relationship would and that's special to me. Like it's never a big deal, and if a gay joke is made, it's never in the derogatory way. Even the pilot episode had a little gay quip in it ("maybe you should date him too" "maybe I will") and it's just so. wiuenfasjkdweisfdkmc.
There's a certain kind of nuance that Psych has when talking about any issue, be it race, sexuality, gender, insecurities or anything else, and I can't really put it into words but it means the world to me. From Shawn's confession to Jules being "I've been thinking about getting a car" to Lassie's casual "my mom's girlfriend" this show continuously steals my attention and my heart and my soul. Have i made it clear that i love this show yet edit: this is also worth mentioning (psych is an unintentional sherlock adaptation)
#psych#shawn spencer#carlton lassiter#lassie's lesbian mom#queer#i would like to know if there is a singular cishet psych watcher out there#i would like to know if there is a singular cishet sherlock enjoyer out there
174 notes
·
View notes
Text
i need them.
#criminal minds#criminal minds evolution#cm evolution#cmedit#emily prentiss#law and order special victims unit#law and order svu#olivia benson#paget brewster#mariska hargitay#aaron hotchner#david rossi#derek morgan#jennifer jareau#spencer reid#penelope garcia#wlw post#sapphic#wlw#lesbian
182 notes
·
View notes
Text
i mourn the loss of canonical lesbian emily prentiss & bisexual spencer reid everyday. but they could never erase the queer energy they give off! u have to pry their queerness outta my cold. dead. hands.
#aliâs thoughts & opinions đŒ#criminal minds#emily prentiss#dr spencer reid#spencer reid#dr reid#lesbian emily prentiss#bisexual spencer reid#lesbian#bisexual
432 notes
·
View notes
Text
Emily: guys, I'm gonna need you to pretend to be impressed by what I'm about to say
Emily: I'm in love with JJ
The rest of the BAU: *sarcastically* WHAAAAAAAT
#criminal minds#emily prentiss#cm incorrect quotes#criminal minds incorrect#criminal minds incorrect quotes#jemily#jj criminal minds#lesbian#spencer reid#derek morgan#penelope garcia#bau team
321 notes
·
View notes
Text
confirmed đ
(our little chapstick lesbianâșïž)
#criminal minds#emily prentiss#paget brewster#aaron hotchner#hotchniss#david rossi#jennifer jareau#criminal minds evolution#dr spencer reid#shemar moore#community tv#nbc community#community#frankie dart community#frankie dart#jeff winger#gay dean#dean pelton#troy and abed#abed nadir#troy barnes#annie edison#britta perry#chapstick lesbian#six seasons and a movie
277 notes
·
View notes
Text
goddess | elle greenaway x famous!reader
content warning: unlabeled sexuality, SA, douchy men, self-deprecating thoughts, soft elle, google translate spanish, laufey
divider by @enchanthings
It always goes like this
Could have predicted it
Iâm so naive to think you loved me for me
It was almost humiliating how many times youâd been in this position. Heels were abandoned at the door, makeup streaked down your face, and your heart felt too heavy to even make it to your own bedroom.
You threw yourself on your couch, dragging a blanket over yourself and taking your phone out apprehensively. Through your tears, you felt the hesitation of dialing that number.
The number you knew through and through.
You knew it by heart.
âShe doesnât want to hear from you,â that little devil whispered into your ear. âSheâs so sick and tired of you and your bullshit.â
A whimper escaped your lips. You wanted to throw your phone and let it shatter on impact. But you never did.
Instead you clutched it tighter and shoved yourself deeper into the cushions of your couch, the memories of that night resurfacing.
Kissed as I ran off stage
Too old to play this game
Guess youâre still growing up at thirty
You met him on a quiet Sunday morning. You were at your favorite cafe and there he was, approaching you. Calling you beautiful, unlike any other girl youâve met.
But most of all. He didnât recognize you.
You detested dating fans. You already got your heart broken there before. You swore off of that.
He showered you with so much affection, you completely missed the signs.
Red flags always seemed normal under your rose-tinted view of the world.
Were you surprised by me
When you took me home?
When the glamour wore off
Reduced to skin and bone
You should have known it was all a lie.
You should have known he was just like all the other
You donât know how long you sat there, wallowing in self-pity, but the sound of your phone ringing took you out of it for just a moment.
You pulled it away from where it was resting under the couch pillow and your eyes widened at the name.
Elle <3
Once again, you hesitated, your thumb hovering over the green button. You finally picked it up on the third ring.
âEllie, hi!â You cringed at the way your voice nearly immediately cracked as you tried to feign your usual chipper mood.
âHey lovely.â Her voice sounded so comforting. Even with just two words, you felt a twinge of warmth attempt to spread through your chest. âYou okay?â
You cleared your throat. âYeah, what makes you ask?â
âYou sound like youâve been crying. And itâs nearly midnight in LA, you arenât usually this chipper this late unless youâre faking it.â
A sigh escaped you. You never could lie to her.
âYouâve always been so observant.â Your voice dropped the octave now that the facade faded.
âI hope so,â she chuckled lightly. âItâs kind of my job. Do you want to talk about it?â
âShe doesnât mean it. Sheâs just being nice.â
âI donât want to bore you with the details.â
She hummed in disapproval. âYou know I always want the details from mi estrella.â
A sad smile slid on your face at the nickname given to you in your childhood; coined after you had gotten the solo in the choir concert.
âSuper star by day, best friend by night,â 10-year-old Elle had quipped.
You huffed out a small laugh before it all fell away as you recounted your date that night.
âYou remember Trevor right? Met him at that coffee shop on Melrose Avenue?â
You heard a pause on her end before she spoke again, her voice softer. âI do.â
âWellâŠI had a date with him tonight. Fourth one.â
âOh.â
âYeah. Oh.â
His lips pressed harshly into yours and his hands skimmed over your body as you struggled to keep up.
âI invited him to see me at a concert. My final one on my tour.â
I canât even tell
Who you want to know
âTrev,â you had tried to laugh. âSlow down.â
Your words fell upon deaf ears as he kissed down to your jaw and began attacking at your neck.
âI umâŠI thought it was a good idea to invite him backstage when it was overâŠtalk to him for a bit before I had to go out again.â
Elle listened as your tone got darker and darker, reliving your own fresh memories. She heard every bout of emotion in your voice. The pain that shone through from a broken heart.
He began lifting your skirt. You grew dizzy with nausea the more he continued.
âThis isnât right,â a tiny voice screamed at you.
âTrevâTrevor, please stop.â
Your hands found his chest, steadying yourself on it before pushing him away. âI said stop!â
ây/nâŠâ Elleâs voice was a whisper now.
âI-I told him I didnât want that. That I didnât think we were there yet. He didnât really like thatâŠâ
Iâm a goddess on stage
Human when weâre alone
âWhat do you mean weâre not there yet,â he scoffed. âIâve been waiting for basically two months for you to be ready.â
He moved in close again, placing a hand on your waist. âIâm so tired of waiting. Iâve listened to your stories, your music. Hell I even talked to that she-devil of a friend of yours, Bella.â
You couldnât decide whether or not to feel disgusted or betrayed. âItâs ElleâŠYou mean you didnât want any of that?â
âI wanted you, babyâŠisnât that enough.â
You cried freely now into the phone and Elle listened quietly, her own heart breaking for you.
âYouâd be proud of me Ellie,â you sniffed. âI stood my ground. Told him no.â
âYeah?â
You nodded, regardless if sheâd see it or not. âYeah⊠He didnât really like it though. I had to call security to escort him out.â
âDid he put his hands on you,â she asked.
You bit your lip, the line going quiet for just a moment before you spoke again. âDo you think I can visit you? Just for a week or so?â
She frowned at the sudden change in topic.
âOf course you can, lovely.â
That next day moved so painstakingly slow for Elle. It was a paperwork day which meant she got to sit around anxiously as she waited for another call from you.
You had already called twice. Once to tell her you were leaving your apartment, twice to tell her your plane was about to depart from LA.
Hours has passed and now she awaited your call telling her you were at the airport waiting.
âAlright,â Derek quipped, rocking back in his chair. âWhatâs up with you today?â
Elle looked over at the man, lifting an eyebrow at him. âWhat do you mean?â
âYouâve been staring at your phone all day,â Spencer claimed, not looking up from his paperwork.
Elleâs attention snapped between the two men before finally settling on Morgan. âSo?â
Derek grinned. âSoâŠ? You hate the phone Elle, now you look like youâre waiting for it to come to life in front of your eyes.â
The girl scoffed out a laugh, shaking her head.
âYou know what I think it it,â Derek continued. âI think youâve got Mr. Mystery youâre waiting on.â
Her smile halted for just a second at his words. She twirling the pen in between her fingers once then twice. âYouâre delusional Morgan.â
Almost right on cue, her phone rang and Derek let out a laugh seeing the usually preserved woman scramble for it.
âAgent Greenaway.â
âSo professional,â you mused, a sly grin sliding on your lips.
A smile eased onto her expression as she turned away from Morganâs prying eyes. âHola amorcito. ÂżCĂłmo estuvo tu vuelo?â
âIt was good, I slept the whole way here.â
âEso es bueno. Lo necesita.â
âRude,â you fake gasped. âAre you calling me grouchy?â
âSabes lo que quise decir y/n.â
Morgan and Reid looked at each other as they listened to Elleâs end of the conversation, completely clueless as to what you were saying.
âEstarĂ© allĂ en veinte. Estar segura. Te amo.â
Reid furrowed his brows curiously. He might not have been a whiz in Spanish, but he definitely caught those last words.
âAlright boys, you better behave.â
Spencer frowned. âWhere are you going?â
âWouldnât you like to know.â
The two of you had spent the rest of the day together.
You didnât want to go out, so she took you straight to your apartment and there you had the time of your life. You two binged movies, played board games, and now you were cooking together.
It was pure bliss and you couldnât as for more.
âI missed this,â Elle mused.
You sat perched on the counter, your head laid comfortably on the cabinet behind you and you passed ingredients to the cooking woman.
âCooking,â you asked with a giggle.
She looked over at you with a laugh. âPass me the oregano would you. And no I donât mean cooking. I mean being with you. Phone calls donât feel like enough anymore.â
You twisted your body around as you shuffled through her spice cabinet. âYeah,â you mused. âHearing your voice is definitely what keeps me sane though.â
Elleâs heart stuttered at those words. The cooking spoon in her hand slowed it stirring and she looked up at you.
âI canât find the oregano,â you mumbled, your attention now fully on the cabinet.
ââŠitâs on the second shelf,â she cleared her throat, pointing up to where it should be.
âIâm looking on the second shelf,â you whined playfully.
âHere,â she moved away from the hot stove and in front of you, leaving over your head to reach it. âIt was rightâŠthere.â
She didnât even realize what position she had put herself in until it was much too late. Either one of your thighs laid beside her hips. You looked down at her and you could feel her breath on you. You could smell her addicting perfume that you found yourself missing every time you two were apart.
It was like an invisible magnet between you two, beckoning the both of you closer and closer. So close that you felt her lips brush against yours.
It was like an epiphany to you. Everything clicked in your head.
The pauses over the phone.
The nicknames.
Hiding your phone calls from her team.
But just as the fireworks began to rise, they sizzled out before ever going off.
She pulled away, clearing her throat awkwardly.
âYouâre so delusional,â that ugly voice hissed to you. âSheâs seen the real you. The ugly you. Why would she want that?â
You swallowed hard and blinked away your tears. âElle.â
She didnât look over to you. Just focused on finishing the meal. âYeah?â
You released a dying sigh. âDo youâŠdo you think Iâm unlovable?â
She had never looked up so fast. You would have thought the spoon burned her from how quickly she dropped it.
âWhat?â
You felt like the question was a plot for attention, but it wasnât. It was probably one of the most genuine questions you asked in a long time.
âI- never mind. Iâm sorry.â
Elle looked at you as if you grew a second head right in front of her. ây/n,â she moved back to that same position she had just run from. Except this time, her hands fell to your cheeks, caressing them oh-so gently. âHow could you ask that question?â
You frowned. âHow could I not?â It came out as a whisper. A moment of pure vulnerability. The first of its kind since that phone call last night.
âIâm not that impossibly perfect, beautiful super star they all expect me to be. Iâm justâŠme. No one wants that.â
Elle shook her head, eyes scanning all over your face before finally settling on your eyes once more. âI want that.â
She felt you freeze under her grasp, but she continued on. âEvery single failed date and false expectation was never your fault. You areâŠso incredibly talented, beautiful, and utterly amazing. In more ways than people give you credit for. If all these other people canât love you the way I do, for you, then they donât deserve you.â
Your breath stopped in your chest. Stuck. Unable to move in or out. âYou love me? Or do you love me?â
You put that emphasis on your final words. There was no other way it could have been interpreted other than
ây/n, I am so utterly in love with you. I have been for a long time.â
Your hands found her wrists where you stabled yourself onto her. A smile broke free from your shocked expression. With a broken laugh, you surged forward, pressing your lips onto herâs in a kiss.
âI love you too.â
Translations:
âhi lovely how was your flight.â
âThatâs good, you needed itâ
âYou know what I mean y/nâ
âIâll be there in twenty. Stay safe. I love you.â
@mackannkees
AN: I canât believe I wrote that all in one night. Itâs officially 3am as of posting, Iâm not expecting this to get much attention, this was more self-indulgence if anything. I hope u guys like it tho
#Spotify#criminal minds#elle greenaway#elle greenaway x reader#greenaway x reader#elle#greenaway#lesbians#lgbtq#pansexual#bisexual#queer#wlw#x reader#elle greenaway criminal minds#spencer reid#derek morgan#criminal minds x reader#criminal minds x you#criminal minds elle
164 notes
·
View notes
Text
Emily: Make her pussy wet not her eyes.
Derek: Make his dick hard not his life.
Reid: Break his bed not his heart.
JJ: Play with her boobs not her feelings.
Penelope: Get on their dick not their nerves.
Rossi: Always salt your pasta while boiling it.
#chaoticbau#jemily rights#jemily#lesbian Emily Prentiss#bisexual Jennifer Jareau#pansexual Penelope Garcia#gay Derek Morgan#bisexual Spencer Reid#criminal minds#emily prentiss#jennifer jareau#cm#incorrect criminal minds#incorrect cm#incorrect criminal minds quotes#spencer reid#derek morgan#penelope garcia#david rossi#spaghetti grandpa#funny#lgbt nsft
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
i love WOMAN
#criminal minds#criminal minds evolution#emily prentiss#olivia benson#law and order svu#law and order special victims unit#law and order organized crime#law and order oc#cm evolution#cmedit#paget brewster#mariska hargitay#elliot stabler#aaron hotchner#david rossi#derek morgan#jennifer jareau#spencer reid#penelope garcia#wlw post#wlw#lesbian#sapphic#celeb crush#lgbt pride
206 notes
·
View notes