#Spencer is a lesbian

[the-flower32]

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.

“Man… this place is way cleaner than the one in my home town.” Mic said as he looked at the headstones they passed.

“Oh thats sad.” Spencer said over her shoulder, a bouquet of Violets and Lilacs in her hand.

“Oh- 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 ‘spruced up’.” 

“And how’d that go?”

“Not 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.”

Spencer chuckled.

“Food is a big motivator, especially sweets.”

“I know right.” 

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.

‘Amissa Spector, Loving wife’

“I wonder who they were.” Mic thought as Spencer placed the flowers and crossed her arms against the wind. 

They wanted to ask, but hesitated. 

“No, it’d be rude.” they told themselves, so they fidgeted with their necklace. 

Mean while Spencer glanced over at them, she was old enough to recognize curiosity when she saw it, and smiled.

“Thanks for driving me out here, I really need to get fitted for glasses.” she started, Mic jumped.

“Uh… no problem.” they said. 

A moment of silence went by.

“You can ask if you want,” Spencer said, seeing Mic’s surprised face she added, “I know most people don't like talking about those the’ve lost but, I like talking about her.”

Mic glanced towards the angel on headstone.

“Ok…who was she?”

Spencers face got a reflective look on it,

“She was my best friend. We got married in a courthouse- we couldn't afford wedding dresses so we just stole our prom dresses…. Neither of our parents agreed to it.” 

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.

“In fact she had to steal this ring from her mother’s jewelry box, the only guests we had were our friends who stuck with us from highschool.” Spencer giggled fondly, “and 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.”

Spencer looked up at the cloud covered sky as she reminisce,

“We 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 Maple’s older brother.”

“Mark?”

“Yep.”

“Was he in human form?”

“Nope, but he changed back the minute he saw the gun.” Spencer laughed.

“I bet that conversation was awkward at all.” Mic smiled, remembering when they met Maple and Mark, and his surprise when he learned more than just werewolves exist. 

Spencer ran her thumb over her wedding ring, “She 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!”

“We’ll he sounded like a jerk, so I don't blame her.”

Spencer laughed.

“you’d of gotten along with her. Though- she’d probably try to talk you into a less heavy eyeliner look.”

“Yeah- that wouldn't of worked.” Mic smiled down at the headstone. Then he frowned, and started picked at a loose thread in their fingerless gloves. “… sorry you two had to live in such a crappy time.”

Spencer looked at them.

“And with such crappy families too. Neither of you deserve that.”

Spencer raised an eyebrow and smiled,

“Actually… after my dad died my mom came and found me.” she started, “she came to apologize, said she didn't want to die angry like my dad did. She’s not burred here- though- she’s with my dad.”

Mic couldn't help their expression from becoming disgruntled as Spencer talked, so they turned away. 

“I remember, when she was in the hospital, she said she’d tell my dad how wrong they were once she died. I wonder if they’ve moved on yet.”

“Heh, im glad she could get over her prejudices…” Mic mumbled, not knowing they were loud enough for Spencer to hear them. “some peoples families cant.”

Spencer looked sympathetically at him, then smiled. 

“Oh- she may have been my mom but she wasnt my family,” spencer said, Mic looked at her with a raised eyebrow. “not till after she apologized anyways.” 

“You know the phrase ‘blood is thicker than water’? It actually started as ‘the blood of the covent is thicker than the water of the womb’, 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.”

Mic looked off to the side as he thought about what she had said. Then smiled. 

Spencer rubbed and blew on her hands, 

“we 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?”

Mic nodded, “If they have hot chocolate, then sure.” 

Week 1

TipJar

[amateurvamp]

Best duos are lesbian and their weird little freak bff

[carisc4pshaw]

Spencer’s Double Shift

Dad!Spencer finishes a case only to find out he can’t go home to his wife (reader) and daughter as they have another case in New York. (fluff)

word count: 2.5k

tags: dad!spencer, mom/fem!reader, parents, parenting, New York, behavioural analysis unit, date night, early birthday dinner, halloween mention, fbi, plane ride, first plane ride, subtle sex mention, fluff, marriage, married with kid, work, fear of flying, comforting.

no warnings

notes: I don’t really like the title of this but oh well, this is the first time I’ve written with the reader so its not amazing sorry. Hope you enjoy!

——————————————————🩷—————————————————

Spencer had been away for three days working on a difficult case but there wasn’t a day he hadn’t called you before starting and ending his day. He told you he had been calling because he missed you but you know it’s really because he missed your perfect daughter.

You and Spencer had the most gorgeous daughter, Delilah Reid, she’s four years old and a total daddy’s girl, she asks you multiple times a day if she can call when Spencer is away working on a case and when you explain to her why she can’t call it makes her cry but she stops when you remind her that her daddy saves lots of people. He is her hero.

Spencer had texted you a few hours ago to let you know he was now boarding the plane to come home as well as telling you he missed both you and Delilah and couldn’t wait to kiss you so when you saw his call coming through on your phone you weren’t surprised.

“Hi Spence,” You said into the phone as you went around the house putting Delilah’s toys away, “Good flight?”

“Hi baby, yeah good flight but I have some bad news,” Spencer replied running his hand through his fluffy curls.

“You have to stay late and do reports?” You groaned into the phone.

“Worse, Hotch got another call on the flight, bad case in New York, we leave in 2 hours. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay honey, it’s not your fault,” You were glad you weren’t FaceTiming right now because the massive frown on your face would make him feel worse and he didn’t deserve that.

“Can I be the worst husband ever right now and ask a favour of you?” Spencer asked.

“You’re hardly the worst husband. Shoot.”

“Could you bring me some clean clothes to swap over in my overnight bag and please bring Delilah I miss her so much I feel like I’m missing everything.”

“I can do that of course, I want to see you I miss you. You aren’t missing much with Delilah except a very messy playroom and a few princess stories at night.”

“Not the princess stories they are my favourite.”

You laugh, “Alright Spence, I’ll bring one for you to read to her before you leave.”

“Deal. Don’t be too long I miss you,” You can practically see Spencer’s pout just by hearing his tone.

“You need to let me hang up then.”

“Fine, be quick, I love you and be safe,” he blew a kiss into the phone making your heart flutter.

“I love you too, extra safe I promise,” You said before hanging up and getting his things together for him.

You knocked on the door of your daughter’s bedroom lightly to see if she was still napping, after getting no sleepy response from her you opened the door quietly climbing into the bed beside her as much as you could with the little space.

“Baby,” You stroke one of the brunette strands of her hair from her face.

“Mommy? Is Daddy home?” She mumbled sleepily to you.

“No baby, we are going to visit Daddy at work. Do you want to pick a book for him to read to you?” You played with the ends of her wavy hair.

“Really? I love Daddy’s work! Yeah, I pick a book,” she says trying to scramble out the duvet.

“Daddy’s got more people to help though baby so we can’t stay too long, just until he has to leave.”

Delilah pouts, “But mommy I miss Daddy he’s been away like a million days.”

You laugh, “I know baby, he’s sorry and so am I but we can do some fun things.”

“He’ll be back for Halloween?”

“Yes he will be back before Halloween sweetie,” You kissed her head, “Get ready and we will leave.”

“Can I stay in my fluffy pyjamas? Please,” Delilah dragged out the ‘e’ at the end of please.

“If you want to,” You smiled at your daughter picking her up to help her off the bed so she could pick a book to take.

——————

You helped Delilah get out of the car and passed her the princess book before swinging Spencer’s bag onto your shoulder and carrying Delilah at the same time.

You signed in at reception, Spencer had called to tell them you were dropping by, usually, they don’t let people come in without an employee badge but you had become friends with the receptionist after the many times you had dropped by to see Spencer in the times you were dating and while you had been married.

Once you were in the elevator you put Delilah down, she couldn’t get lost going from the elevator to the bullpen since they were opposite each other and she had been there enough times to know the way.

When the doors opened you spotted Spencer waiting on the other side of the open glass door. He knew his daughter would run out once she saw him and that’s exactly what she did. The small girl let go of your hand and ran towards her Dad the book still in her hand.

“Daddy!” She squeaked, you walking not far behind watching them as they collided in a hug.

“Hi Princess,” Spencer picked her up and spun her around. Hotch, Emily and JJ were watching from across the room smiling. Emily could see how much happier Spencer was as soon as he was talking to you or back with both you and your daughter.

“You should let him bring them to New York with us and maybe give him a day off while we are there,” Emily whispered to Hotch.

“I’ll speak to him about it,” Hotch spoke while nodding.

“I missed you, Daddy, don’t go, why do you keep leaving me and Mommy?” Delilah pouted with tears in her eyes.

Spencer held Delilah’s hair out of her face placing kisses over her face, “I’m sorry baby, I don’t want to leave you.”

You sighed seeing the tears almost spilling from Delilah’s eyes, “Honey I told you Daddy saves people.”

“But what if I need him,” Delilah started crying both your and Spencer’s hearts breaking as well as the others watching.

“Reid,” Hotch called Spencer signalling for him to come over.

Spencer tried to pass Delilah over to you but the girl cried harder refusing to let go of him.

“You can all come,” Hotch said walking up the stairs towards the office.

Once you entered with your husband and daughter who had stopped crying Hotch smiled, “Emily made a point to me that you haven’t been at your best recently being apart from your wife and daughter and proposed I talk to you about bringing them to New York with us, that way we can call you when we need but you can also do some exploring and be with your family,” Hotch said.

“Really? That would be great!” Spencer said.

“That really would be, thank you, Aaron,” You said.

“We will pick you up in an hour on the way to the jet.”

“The only thing is Delilah has never flown before, I don’t want her to get upset and distract you from your case,” You added.

“She’s no bother.”

“I’m a big girl I will be fine I going to eat a big pizza,” Delilah squealed, “Let me go Daddy I need to tell Auntie Emily and Auntie JJ,” she gasped, “Can we visit Nana and Auntie Elle and her girlfriend and her kitten too!”

“Slow down baby, we need to go home and get ready before we can do anything,” You crouched down to pull Delilah into a hug.

“Kay Kay, me and Daddy make plans on the plane!”

You all laughed before Spencer ruffled her hair with his hand, “Okay little princess.”

The three of you went back to your house to get ready, you already felt a little stressed about how little time you had to pack. Packing usually took you at least a day to make sure you had a list of everything you needed and you weren’t leaving anything behind.

Spencer stood behind you rubbing your shoulders, “I can tell you’re stressed.”

“Sorry, I just don’t know what to pack. What’s the weather going to be like? What are we going to do there? Fancy or casual dinners? I guess casual because Lilah is with us,” You rambled.

“We won’t be there more than four days, the weather is the right temperature for jeans and t-shirts, pack a jumper for the mornings, maybe take a coat in case it rains one day but nothing too thick,” he helps you out.

“Thank you, Baby,” You grab his face leaving a gentle peck on his lips before returning to your suitcase to finish your packing while Spencer went to help Delilah.

——————

You sat opposite Delilah and Spencer sat beside her on the private jet. The small brunette had her small hands on either side of the window watching the takeoff and the city becoming several long fluffy clouds.

“It’s pretty!” Delilah gasped.

“Yeah, it is isn’t it?” You replied.

“Daddy, do you want to see too?” Delilah asked him.

“I’ve seen it lots of times, you enjoy it,” He ran his hand over her hair before moving to sit next to you.

“Hi,” You move a little closer to him in the seat.

“Hi,” He takes your hand and laces your fingers together.

You rest your head on his shoulder your eyes fluttering closed for a second as he rubbed his thumb on the back of his hand.

“Are you okay?” He asked. You were sometimes a nervous flyer but you didn’t want to show it right now especially in front of your daughter for her first flight.

“I’m doing fine, this plane shakes less than a commercial aircraft,” You glanced up at him smiling.

“I didn’t get to give you a proper hello earlier,” Spencer leaned his head down connecting his lips with yours in a quick kiss that unfortunately didn’t go unnoticed by the young brunette girl.

“EW!” She shouted rather loudly, “You guys can’t kiss!”

“Why not? We love each other,” Spencer tells Delilah, “And you need to be a bit quieter baby. They are working,” He points to his team.

“It’s gross to kiss,” Delilah stuck her tongue out.

Spencer gave your lips one last quick peck before grinning at Delilah who was sitting with her arms folded and pouting.

Around halfway through the flight, the plane hit a small rough patch of turbulence making you panic slightly and Delilah started crying. Spencer wanted to comfort the both of you but you knew it was more important for him to look after your child and besides you always remembered the fact Spencer had told you about planes that they’re more likely to crash as you were taking off or as you are landing which made you feel a little bit better not by much but it was something.

You watched as Spencer moved Delilah onto his lap and rubbed her back trying to calm her down. When her breaths became more controlled he wiped the tears from her cheeks and placed a kiss on her nose whispering, ‘You’re okay baby I’ll always keep you safe,’ to her.

Seeing how he was with her always made your heart warm and melt in your chest, there really could be no better father for any child except maybe one that wasn’t in the FBI but you would never want anyone else as your husband or as Delilah’s father.

You left your seat to go to grab a coffee, Emily and JJ were standing by the coffee machine talking and quite obviously flirting. You were closer to JJ than you were to Emily but not for any reason other than JJ’s son Micheal and Delilah went to the same daycare.

“Hi,” You said squeezing around them to get a mug from the cupboard.

“Hi,” They replied at the same time before quickly turning their heads and smiling brightly at each other to acknowledge what they had just done.

You laughed, “Excuse me,” You directed at Emily who was standing by the coffee machine.

She moved to the side, “Is Delilah okay? We heard her crying, was it the turbulence?”

“Yeah she’s fine, she was just a little scared because she’s never experienced it before,” You answered with a small smile, “Spence calmed her down.”

“We saw, he’s an amazing dad. He was so good with Henry when he was younger too I’m so happy he has a kid of his own now,” JJ smiled.

Your smile grew hearing JJ say that. “He is an amazing dad,” You looked over at your husband, “He’s great. Spencer’s birthday is coming up and I really wanted to take him to dinner while we are in New York, Could you possibly watch Delilah tonight? It won’t be late because I know you will both have to be up early to start the case.”

“Oh yes! We’d love to look after her, she was so cute last time trying to read us her princess book,” Emily said.

“I might have to prep a few bits for the case but Em will be fine on her own with her she’s really good with the boys at home,” JJ said.

“Okay, thank you guys so much,” You took your coffee and returned to your seat.

——————

It was already 4:30 pm when the plane landed in New York and the hotel you were staying in was about 15 minutes away. Delilah had fallen asleep just before you went into the SUV, you were hoping she’d sleep until you got to the hotel so she’d be less irritable when you told her you and Spencer were going out for dinner.

You rested your head on Spencer’s shoulder, “I have a surprise for you.”

“What is it?” Spencer raised his eyebrow in curiosity.

“I’m taking you out to dinner,” You ran your hand up and down his arm.

“Thank you, How come?” He had a big smile on his face.

“Early birthday dinner, Em and JJ are going to watch Delilah while we are out.”

“Do you think they can watch her a little longer after dinner too?” Spencer whispered into your ear.

Your cheeks clouded with blush and a little laugh left your mouth, “Stop that Spence.”

“I didn’t say anything wrong,” He said with a smug smile and a little smirk.

——————

You and Spencer walked into Carmine’s Italian restaurant hand in hand.

Once you were sat down at the table waiting for your food, he reached across the table and started drawing circles with his finger on top of your hand.

“Thank you for this,” He tucked your hair behind your ear with his other hand.

“Thank you for being you, you’re such a good Dad and husband Spence I don’t tell you enough. Happy early birthday,” You leaned across the table to kiss him.

“You tell me more than enough love but I don’t think I tell you enough that you’re an amazing Mom and wife I don’t what either of us would do without you.”

Once your food arrived you ate and made small talk together until going back to the hotel to collect your beautiful daughter from JJ and Emily.

[theunholyvirginemilyprentiss]

Emily Prentiss being straight is about as believable as Spencer Reid being neurotypical.

[scarlettjemily]

Watching criminal minds is a wild experience, because one minute you’re interested in the serial killer stories and then the next minute you’re a whore who has a gun kink

[prentisscminds]

can’t help it i want her

[flaminghotjareau]

lgbt people witnessing straight people’s business

[agathasstrap]

Emily Prentiss — Icons

[leverage-ot3]

bonus:

[sincerelybubbles]

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.

-

It’s 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. 

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. 

Unlikely, but a welcome thought soothing your anxiety as you push the door open and scan your badge at the security desk. 

“Welcome back,” the security guard says, smiling at you over his paperback. He’s an old greying man and you vaguely recognize him. You think he’s new and send him a warm smile in return. 

“Thanks,” you glance at his name badge, “Martin!”

You walk past him and step into the elevator. “Wait!” A voice calls and you reach forward to hit the hold button instinctively before you register the voice as Emily’s. 

She jogs into the elevator with you, smiling gratefully. “Thanks, I’m already running a little behind.” 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. 

“Brave of you to go there during your lunch,” you joke, returning her smile and pressing the button for your floor. 

You hope she can’t see how your hands shake as you reach forward.

“I know, I just love their Pasta Brado. Have you tried it?”

“Can’t say I have. I’m boring, I usually go for the parm.”

“You’re not boring,” she says so earnestly that you can’t help but blush. You cough as an excuse to raise your hand to your face and hopefully hide it some. “You do have to try it, though. Here,” she offers you the plastic box. 

“Oh, I couldn’t. And I already ate.” You ignore the way your chest hurts a little at how enthusiastic she is. The worst part? She doesn’t even know how endearing her simple kindness, her casual enthusiasm, is to you. 

“Tomorrow, then. We can go together.” The elevator doors open as she says it and she steps out with an affirmative nod to solidify it. “Don’t try to bail out on me either, I know where to find you.”

“Yeah, I'm okay,” you say, feeling lame as you step out behind her. “I would love to.” She’s too far to hear you, though, already heading to Spencer’s desk and jumping right into his conversation with Morgan. 

Someone says your last name and you turn on your heel to see Hotch and cringe slightly. “I was trying to find you.” It’s a kinder way of him reminding you that you’re nearly ten minutes late back from your lunch. 

“Sorry, sir.”

“It’s fine. Do you have the reports finished from last week's trip to Huston?”

“Yes, sir, they’re at my desk. One moment.”

-

You and Emily don’t go to the bistro the next day because she and the team are sent to a small town in Kansas that night. 

“I’ll owe you lunch,” she says, hand on the back of your desk chair and brushing your shoulder as the team rushes to the jet. 

“Don’t worry about it!” You reassure her.

“I’m taking you to lunch,” she calls over her shoulder, pretend-glaring, “you will try that Brado!”

And then she’s gone, leaving you giddy and breathless. 

You know she’s just being friendly – she treats Spencer, Morgan, and JJ all the same as you – 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. 

You try to remind your heart to stop singing because Emily probably isn’t even gay and definitely isn’t interested. Instead, Garcia scares the shit out of you when she interrupts your inner monologue. 

“Lunch with Emily? Things are getting serious in your work marriage.” You hadn’t seen her walk into the room and jump at her voice, hand jumping to your mouth to suppress a yelp. “Sorry! Sorry!”

“It’s okay, didn’t see you.”

“Your loss, I look fantastic today.”

“As always,” you smile up at her, nose wrinkling and genuine fondness filling your senses. 

“Careful, wouldn’t want a workplace affair,” she jokes, leaning against your desk and picking up the stress ball you keep handy. 

“Stop,” you moan in good nature. “Nobody else calls us work wives.”

“That’s just because they don’t have my brilliance and excellent observational skills.”

“Nor do they have the same privy to my more personal thoughts,” 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, you’re 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. 

“I would hope not. You know I can’t be replaced, baby.”

“Does Morgan know you talk to all your work besties like this?”

“I most certainly do not. You’re a regular bestie, not a work bestie.” A wink and then her expression sobers. “I do have an actual reason for visiting your humble cubical, though.”

“Hm?”

“I’m going to need extra hands for this case. It’s time-sensitive, as usual, and seems like it will be particularly tricky.”

“Yes ma’am,” you say, dropping your pen and standing to follow her. 

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. 

It’s stressful work that technically isn’t what you’re 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, it’s literally the least you can do. 

“Yes, so, it looks like our unsub…”

You drown out Garcia’s brief about information you already have sitting in front of you and begin vetting possible suspects from the large pool her system created.

It’s going to be a long night. You think about future Brado to cheer you up. 

-

“Reid, Prentiss take the back,” Hotch’s voice fills your ears. You imagine the pair nodding and splitting off from the group. 

This is your least favorite part of helping the team with active investigations – listening in on the calls. It’s rare that you and Garcia join the line when they’re approaching the unsub but, with you helping her, it isn’t a risk to distract Garcia and a much quicker method of getting any new information the team needs. It’s a new system you’ve 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. 

You suspect the girl is still alive, the uncle doesn’t seem to have any reason to kill her just yet, but your fear for her grows with every minute. 

“Clear!”

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, isn’t helping your nerves. 

“I think he’s going to the roof!” Morgan’s voice, clear in the comms. 

You click out of the documents. Two swift motions on the screen. The firm press of the button. 

“Morgan, you’re on foot. Prentiss, follow him. Everyone else in vans, go!”

“Garcia, map out possible escape routes from the roof,” you instruct. 

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. 

“Got her!” Reid’s voice sounds and you deflate a little. He mutes as he begins to console the small girl. 

You know you can take off your headset now, leave the call, and go to your paperwork. There isn’t much more you can do to help – you’re sure that’s what you’re supposed to do – but you stay on anyway, listening. 

“Right on Elmore!” Morgan calls. You find the street on Garcia’s screen, eyes tracing the path you think they’re taking. 

“We’ll try to cut him off,” 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. Someone’s labored breathing – probably Morgan’s as he dead sprints. 

“Stop! Put your hands up!” Emily shouts. The firmness in her voice makes you sit up straighter in your chair. 

You hear something that sounds vaguely like, “bitch,” before a loud pop drowns anything else out. 

“Emily!” Morgan’s voice, more pops. 

Gunfire. That’s gunfire, your brain recognizes. 

Your blood has gone cold.

“We need a medic!” Morgan shouts. Hotch’s line blinks red, going dead as he calls the ambulance. “Emily, Emily.”

Rustling. Cars. Sirens. Morgan’s line goes dead after you hear a car door slam shut. Then Reid’s and Rossi’s. Emily’s 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. 

Neither of you can hear where she was shot or how badly injured she is before Emily’s line goes red as well.

-

“Emily?” You call softly, rapping your knuckles softly on the frame of the cracked hospital door. 

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. 

“Hey, you,” you say, walking in, arms full. “I brought things.”

“You didn’t have to do that,” she says, trying to sit herself up further and wincing as the motion pulls on her stitches in her abdomen. 

“Wait, let me help you,” you say, setting your things down and reaching out a hand. 

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. 

“Thanks,” 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. 

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. 

“I know it’s probably not quite what you meant but,” you set the containers down on her bed and pop one open. 

“The Pasta Brado! Oh man, I was going to treat you.” She’s pouting through a smile, attempting to put on an upset facade and failing miserably. 

It’s so cute that you struggle with what to say next. 

“Thank you, really. You can pull up that chair, if you’re hungry now.”

You grab the chair she’s motioned to and drag it to sit next to her. “I’m hungry if you are. It might be a little cold, though, it’s kind of a far walk.”

“You walked here?” Emily asks, tone appalled and face comically shocked. 

“Yeah, my car broke down last week. I’ve been walking to work – it’s actually really nice out right now – and I couldn’t find a cab from the bistro.” 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. 

“Jesus! You didn’t need to come and see me if you don’t have a car. You didn’t need to come at all, actually. I really appreciate it,” she amends, seeing how your bashful smile freezes on your face, reaching forward as if to touch your face and brushing your shoulder instead. “It’s really sweet of you but you didn’t need to walk all that way. Isn’t it like a twenty-minute walk from here?”

Over thirty, but you nod anyway, knowing it won’t help your case to correct her. “It’s not a big deal. You were shot in the stomach, of course I wanted to see you.”

“Ah, so you wouldn't want to see me otherwise,” she teases, nodding and pushing her pasta around with her fork. She doesn’t even try to conceal her grin. 

“Ha ha, very funny,” you mumble. You take a bite of your food and your eyes widen. “Oh my god.”

“I knew you would love it,” 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. 

You tell yourself you’re overreacting about both thoughts. 

“You were right – Emily this is unfairly good.”

“Oh, I know,” she says, taking her own bite and letting out an exaggerated moan, complete with an eye roll. You giggle and she smiles at you. “Thank you, this is exactly what I needed.”

“You’re welcome,” you say, holding her eye contact. 

She's been in the hospital for three days, transferred back to Virginia last night; her hair is unwashed and unbrushed, and she’s wearing no makeup and a hospital gown. 

She’s still the prettiest girl you’ve ever seen. 

-

Your car is fixed by the time Emily is released from the hospital two days later and you offer to take her home. 

“Hi Sergio,” you greet the cat brushing against your legs as Emily disengages the alarm. 

You set her things down by the door before turning to offer her your arm. Emily doesn’t pretend that she doesn’t need the help when it’s just you two, something you’re grateful for after watching her struggle with the team around, and lets you guide her to her bedroom. 

You set about making her comfortable, turning down her sheets and propping the pillows up so she can sit. 

“I’ve got it,” she laughs, playfully pushing away your hands. 

You laugh along with her, raising your hands and backing away. “I’m going to go put the rest of your stuff away and get you a drink.”

“Perfect, I’ll take an old-fashioned. Don’t forget the cherry.”

You roll your eyes at her, scoffing and leaving her room. 

You throw her clothes and go-bag in her laundry room before making her a glass of water and another glass of juice. Once you’re sure she’s settled in her bed with her book, you return to the kitchen to make her a few dinners, ignoring her protests. 

-

Emily is back in the field much sooner than you would have liked. 

“I was cleared by the doctors,” she tells you, coat slung over her arm as she digs through her bag for her badge. 

You smile at Martin, sending him a mock exasperated look, before she finds her ID and shows it to him. 

“It still seems too soon, Em,” you persist, reaching forward to push the elevator button and turning so you can lean back to watch her face. 

“Em?” Emily asks, the hint of a smile pulling up the left corner of her mouth. 

You sort of feel like you could die in that moment, just from the heat that simple gesture surges through you. 

“It just sort of slipped out, sorry,” you say, thoroughly embarrassed. 

The elevator dings and the doors open, throwing you off balance for a second. This doesn’t 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. 

You’re kneeling to stuff everything in your bag when Emily crosses your line of sight again, wide smile on her face – teeth fully on display and nose scrunched, you are in desperate need of help – holding out your notepad.

“I think the nickname’s sweet. I kind of like the idea of having a name only one person, only you, calls me.”

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. 

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, “Okay. Thanks, then, Emmy.”

You walk away after that brief flash of confidence, telling yourself you’re just imagining how you swear her face flushed bright at your comment. 

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 doesn’t let it go. 

She corners you on your break in the kitchenette. Literally. She catches you when you’re 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. 

Not that you really want to leave. 

She’s wearing a red tank top and dark jeans, her hair is loose around her shoulders, eyes steadily trained on your face as you work. 

“Hello,” you say, quiet in a way you’re not normally. 

“Hi.”

“What’re you doing?” You ask after a few more moments of her silently staring at you while you pretend to know what you’re doing with a screwdriver. 

“Enjoying the view.”

You drop your screwdriver and relish in the sound of her laugh. 

-

You’d 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. 

You’re not shy but confidence doesn’t run in your blood either. You’d say you’re pretty normal – average. You don’t 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. 

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 you’re on some sort of back road but it’s hard to tell from the trunk given the obvious lack of windows. 

You’re calmer than you thought you would be if kidnapped. 

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. 

You’ve been in here too long to consider if you’re focused on the wrong things. You’re scared shitless, of course, but the adrenaline faded about an hour into your drive and now you’re just bored. 

Imagine that – bored as fuck in the trunk of a stranger's car, wrists burning from the rope and jaw sore from where it’s been forced open too long by the fabric tied around the back of your head. 

You’re just allowing yourself to reimagine your morning with Emily when the car stops and the engine cuts. 

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. You’re smart, you’ve heard the stories of how these victims survive captivity. 

When the trunk pops open, you squeeze your eyes shut to prevent pain from the sudden lack of light. You don’t 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. 

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 – keep him happy so he keeps you alive. 

“Good girl,” 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. 

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 now’s not the time. 

“Look at how well-behaved you are!” His breath is wet against your neck. He stands too close, hands clawing under the hem of your shirt to cling to your skin. 

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. 

It’s 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. 

You have to repeat this to yourself as you hear a door lock click. 

“Took you long enough. This is the girl? She’s kind of … well,” the second man kisses his teeth with a sharp sound. You’re pushed forward again. “Whatever floats your boat man.” The door shuts and locks behind you. The second man's voice fades as he talks, disinterested. 

You wonder if it’s wrong to feel slightly insulted right now. 

“This way, doll.”

You listen. It’s saving your life to be complicit in his directions, so you listen. Still, you’re 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. 

Then, there’s 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. 

“Why?” You manage to sob out. “Why, why?”

You don’t get an answer.

-

You’re not overly religious but you thank whatever heavens or universe exists that he leaves you alone once he’s done kicking the shit out of you. Your ribs are bruised but the worst you expected hasn’t happened. 

The boredom returns as you lay with throbbing ribs. At least one is broken and every breath hurts. You can’t imagine sitting up and, luckily, with your hands tied behind your back, it’s not really an option anyway. 

It must be near an hour later when you’re fading out of consciousness – a purposeful choice on your part to save your energy – when you hear the front door burst down. 

“FBI! Hands where I can see them!” Morgan. You nearly weep but think better when your stuttered gasp makes your side throb. “What the fuck?” You hear shouted in reply. “Robb, what the fuck man.”

There isn’t much of a resistance from the living room. The second man is shouting at what you can only assume is the first – your initial kidnapper – but there’s nothing else other than that. 

“Clear!” You hear Hotch call. Spencer replies and then you hear the door nearest you open. 

His voice calls out your name. You deflate against the floor. A second, you know he’s scanning the room with his gun before holstering it. “Clear! I need a medic!”

Hands, gentle, against your face, removing the hood. Swifter after that, removing your gag, and then hand binds. 

“Hey, Spence,” you say, trying to smile up at him. 

“Shh, you’re okay. We’ve got you.” He starts to support your weight behind your shoulders and the pain that brings is too intense to prevent your yelp. 

“Oh my god, is she okay?” 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. 

“Hey, pretty,” you say, words tumbling out of your mouth before you can catch them.

“Hi beautiful,” she answers, reply just as soft as your own. Earnest. 

It makes your heart ache and, for the first time since being yanked off the road walking to grab lunch, you start to cry. 

“Hey, hey, I’m sorry. I’m sorry, beautiful, it’s okay. You’re okay.” She repeats this as you’re lifted by the paramedics and cry harder. 

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 you’ve broken two, maybe three. 

She tries with you in the ambulance. 

You can’t 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 she’s 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 couldn’t have been there for her in the same way. 

An odd thought, you realize, but it’s the one you’re stuck with as you drift away when the pain medicine enters your system. 

-

You’re sent home three days later. You insist on spending the night alone, afraid to admit you’re scared because, honestly, nothing much happened to you. 

Oh, of course, everyone tries to convince you otherwise but you know they’ve all had it worse. You were gone from the bureau for about eight hours and spent most of it bored. 

So you force yourself to spend the night alone. You don’t need help moving around or doing things for yourself so you convince yourself you don’t need help. 

You’re 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 don’t know who took you yet, you haven’t asked and nobody has said, but you can imagine seeing him through the door. Waiting for you, waiting to kill you this time. 

Okay, yeah, maybe Spencer was right when he talked about PTSD and usual levels of anxiety, but you’re 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. 

You open the door quickly, unlatching it and turning off your alarm with a few clicks. “Emily?”

“Ah, man, I was getting used to Emmy,” she jokes, stepping inside with a smile in your direction and kicking off her shoes. 

You can’t think of an answer so you just smile at her, hoping she’ll take the lead. You’re 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. 

“Rossi sent me with it with explicit instructions to not let you share it.”

You giggle and take the plate. “I’ll have to tell him thank you. It’s kind of out of your way to come all this way, though, isn’t it?”

“Not out of my way at all,” she says, words dripping with meaning as she holds your eyes. “I would have come even if Rossi didn’t have food for you.”

“So why are you here?”

“To make a fool of myself,” she says, casually, like that’s something people say every day, “probably. You’ve just gotten back from the hospital and I know you said you wanted to be alone, but,” she swallows and her words are becoming more rushed as she speaks, “I said the same thing and you still stayed.”

“Emily?” You ask, setting the plate down on your hallway table and clearing your throat. “Ah, Emmy?” You amend when she cuts you a look. Your attempt to diffuse the tension doesn’t work and she steps closer so you’re toe to toe.

“That doesn’t really answer your question, though. You’re sweet enough that you would let it go, but,” she shrugs, reaching forward to gently loop her fingers around your wrists. “Stop me if this is awful timing. Please,” she says, leaning forward and staring into your eyes. 

You feel like you’re suffocating, but if this is death, you’ll greet it gladly in the irises of Emily Prentiss. You’re 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. 

Everything that has ever been exists here, now, in this moment. Every breath used to blow out birthday candles and blow away eyelashes – breaths with purpose, with wishes, with intent – 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 you’ve been standing so closely?

“Just, stop me, if you want,” she whispers against your lips, eyes falling shut. 

Time yawns again, freezing. Your eyes open, hers closed, beats of seconds pausing. Hesitating for you to hold this moment in your hands. You’re grateful to appreciate it because she really is so lovely. Her bangs are pushed back from her face with a headband – imagine that! Emily owns headbands! – 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. 

You gasp into her mouth, hands breaking out of her hold to grab her face. You’re afraid that she’s going to pull away before this kiss can be fully real. Before you can actually taste her – 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. 

But she doesn’t 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. 

A tilt of your head and it’s better, impossibly. She’s firm, sturdy, beautiful. Confident. Lovely, lovely, lovely. 

And then she reaches forward to hold you to her, hands brushing your ribs to wrap around your back and you can’t 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 won’t allow it.

“Oh, I’m so so sorry. Are you okay? I’m sorry.” You smush the apologies against her lips, removing one hand from her hand to guide her arms around your shoulders where they won’t hurt. “Okay! Okay,” she giggles, leaning back with several short kisses that do nothing to satiate you. “I need to know you’re okay.”

She can obviously tell she hasn’t hurt you too bad by your reaction, but the sweet caution in her voice has you melting further. 

“I’m perfect.”

[moonbugs9058]

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)

[rebelliousstories]

The One That Got Away

Relationship: Emily Prentiss x Reader

Fandom: Criminal Minds

Request: No

Warnings: Fluff, Angst, Mentions of a Crime Scene, Blood, and Firearms, Vague Mentions of a Serial Killer

Word Count: 1,698

Main Masterlist: Here

Criminal Minds Masterlist: Here

Summary: After leaving Interpol after an operation gone wrong, Emily thought that she would never see her ex-girlfriend again. That is until the case resurfaces, but on US soil.

Part Two: Would You Go With Me?

Consider Donating: Here

“The past is a very determined ghost, haunting every chance it gets.” Laura Miller

March 7th, 2005

In the back of an ambulance, a woman was staring straight ahead. She was unable to respond to the EMTs surrounding her. All she could replay in her head was the massacre that had just unfolded inside their safe house. A safe house that was now comprised.

She could barely comprehend that her girlfriend was in front of her, calling her name. Screams echoed in her head. Blood was actively drying on her face, hands, clothing, really just.. everywhere. There was a ringing ever present in her ears. Vaguely, she registered that she was being loaded into the ambulance, with other people climbing in with her.

Her girlfriend was holding her hand, trying to stay out of the way for the medics to work on the lady on the gurney. Everything was jut a blur. No sound loud enough, but not quite quiet enough. No image stood out to her. What the woman did not realize, was that this singular event would forever change her life.

Present Day…

“What have we got?” Emily asked, strutting in with Morgan and Rossi right next to her.

Aaron stood around the round table with JJ to his left. Garcia had shuffled in from the other entrance to the room with Reid close behind her. The unit chief held a harsh look on his face, harsher than he usually did. And he was looking straight at Emily.

“What,” came her hesitant ask, eyeing Hotch equally as hard.

“We’ve gotten a request to help with an Interpol case.” He stated.

“Okay, what’s so different about it? We’ve been asked to assist other teams before.” The rest of the team followed after Prentiss, also confused as to how cryptic this whole thing was.

“Imitirovat.”

“The Mimic?” While everyone remained confused, Emily felt like a cold rush of water came over her.

“‘The Mimic?’ Who’s that?” Garcia piped up, not liking the silence.

Before Hotchner could speak, the dark haired woman did so first. “He was an old case. A cold case back from my days with Interpol. Why are we being brought in?”

“It seems that he’s made his way to American soil, and he’s killing again. Agent Liam Shelby has asked us to join the FBI joint task force with the Salt Lake City police.” He continued, passing her a file.

“Shelby? He’s on this still?” Flipping through the pages, she scanned them to refresh herself on all the information.

“He is. And there is an additional agent that we need to find.” A highlighted name pointed her out, but that only made her groan.

“Jesus Christ.” A hand scrubbed over Emily’s face to try rub her bias away.

“I’m aware. Wheels up in twenty.”

~

On the plane, the conversation was not much better. While her teammates wanted to talk about the original case, Emily wanted to not be in this situation. If certain information got out, personal information, about this case, there could be repercussions both personally and professionally. But if Shelby was specifically calling the team that she was on to help now that this man had come back.

“So, what can you tell us about this guy, Emily?” Rossi asked, toying with the file in front of him.

Sucking in a depth breath, she readjusted in her seat, feeling the weight of everyone’s stares on her. “Um…well, no one knows The Mimic’s real name. But we do know that he comes from Russia, hence the name “Imitirovat”. It means “imitate” or “simulate.” White male, at the time he was approximately late twenties to early thirties. Sandy blonde hair, brown eyes, attractive-”

“Attractive?” JJ’s brows scrunched as she tilted her head.

“Yeah, he’s always been able to charm victims into going with him before he kills them.” Prentiss continued, “and when I was with Interpol, I chased him around Europe as he went on killing. We almost had him in London.”

“Were there any suspects?” Morgan quipped.

“We had some persons of interest, but nothing panned out.” Prentiss shook her head.

“When we land, Morgan and Reid, go to the latest crime scene. The rest of us will set up in the station.” Aaron ordered.

Soon after, everyone dived into their own thing. Pretty much everyone else was jumping into the information in the folders. Meanwhile, Emily was staring out of her window. What was she going to do if they found her? She had not seen the woman in almost a decade.

Making it to the Salt Lake City field office, Prentiss began to pick at her fingernails as they went further into the office.

“Emily!” A smooth, French-accented voice called out amongst the cacophony of the office.

“Liam, bonjour.” She replied, hugging him close.

“Bonjour. I hate to have called you here, but we need help.” Liam had jumped to near frantic as he introduced himself briefly to the rest of the team.

“I know. The Mimic is back. We’re gonna try to catch him but we need-”

Shaking his head and hands, Liam cut her off. “No, no, no, no, no. I need your help specifically.”

“Anything.” He passed her a piece of paper.

“We haven’t been able to get into contact with her. It is possible that this is why he came here. She lives in the city.”

A gasp tore from her throat. “She’s here?”

Liam just nodded. Scanning the paper she was given, Prentiss committed her address and number to heart. ”I’ll see what I can do.”

She decided on bringing Rossi with her to track down the final piece of the puzzle. Partially because there was no way Emily was going to play twenty questions with JJ, nor deal with the curious stare of Hotch. No, she brought David because he was a constant, fatherly anchor; that was what she needed. Anxiety was already rearing its ugly head at her, and she needed someone that could remain objective.

The place she now lived was far different than what she had in London. A run down apartment building that looked like it had not been updated since the 80’s. This was where she lived? When she stepped out, Prentiss smoothed her shirt and slacks, before rounding the SUV to cross the street to get to the door. However, when she went to knock on the door, it flew open with ease.

Immediately, the two agents drew their weapons, trigger discipline in place, and then they breached the ground level apartment. The first objective was to clear the apartment, make sure that no one, dead or alive, was in there. Prentiss took the west side, while Rossi took the east. She was traversing over broken glass, destroyed furniture. There were swipes of blood on the walls, dents, and bullet holes. All in all, it looked horrible.

“Clear.” Emily called, walking back into the living room.

“Clear,” came Rossi’s reply, also joining her in the living room. They holstered their weapons, and took in the damage. But as she looked around, a pool of something dark caught her eyes.

“Rossi…” she hesitantly drew his attention. Stepping quietly over to it, Emily’s stomach dropped. It was a pool of blood. One that had already begun to dry. There was an outline of a body in the middle of it, and bloody drags around the edges.

Rushing out the front door, Emily needed fresh air before she threw up. Shaking breathes sucked it in, but the thought alone was near enough to cripple her. Vaguely, Prentiss heard the front door open and close as Rossi came outside with her.

“I’m fine. I’m fine.” Her words were rushed, not wanting him to even ask the question to begin with.

“Sure you are, kid.” Dave chuckled at her glare. “I’m gonna call this in. You go back to the station.”

“Rossi, I’m fi-”

“That wasn’t a request. Go.” Chucking the keys at her, he already had his phone pressed against his ear as he alerted the SLC police to their crime scene. Reluctantly, Emily drove all the way back, and her thoughts were racing the speedometer.

It did not even fully process to her that she had returned until Liam stepped outside to her window. “Emily? Emily, mon ami, are you alright?”

On shaking legs, and an even unsteadier heart, Prentiss tried to speak, but nothing came out. When she said nothing, the Frenchman ushered her inside, brought her to their little section of the office, and sat her down. While Liam went to get her a cup of coffee, Hotch and JJ came over. But their voices were not able to penetrate her ears. She could not follow their questions.

“She’s dead.” Emily finally muttered, still staring at the table ahead of her.

“What do you mean?”

“Who’s dead?”

“That can’t be.”

Overlapping voices, overlapping questions, each with the same answer. “She’s dead, Liam. There was no body, but you know what The Mimic does to his victims.”

There was a new fury in her dark brown eyes as she stared at her former partner.

“There was no way she could have survived from that much blood loss. And her place… it was destroyed. If you had seen what I did. I just- we’re going to find her body in a day or two.” Emily went on with her explanation.

Everyone was silent. While her new team had no idea what the women meant to each other, Liam did. And he knew that if he had found his past lover in that state, even without a body, he would be distraught.

“Thought you had more faith in me, Emmy. You should know me better than that.”

The new voice made the agent freeze. But as soon as that was gone, she shot from her chair like lightning to whip around to face the voice. She looked just as beautiful as she did all those years ago, just with a new line or two on her face, and a long natural blonde wig on. Emily knew her well enough to know that she would never actually dye her hair to that color.

“Ya amar…”

[confusionmeisss]

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.

[theunholyvirginemilyprentiss]

JEMILY PSA ‼️

GUYS, Paramount + just posted a romantic Jeid edit like foreshadowing the new season, I feel SICK. And they did it with a PAGET VOICEOVER, which is just diabolical.

Listen, absolutely ZERO hate if you are a Jeid shipper, but IMO they missed their chance back in like season 2, I mean he’s not even in the show anymore??? That ship has sailed. Give me Jemily or give me death.

Like, what did I just step in?:

I don’t want this 👆 I want this 👇

[myanxietydemonaretootired]

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

[prentisscminds]

let's take a look and admire this beautiful shiny smile 🥺🩵