#emily homicidal

[horrorvillaintourney]

HORROR'S NEXT TOP GENDER, ROUND TWO MATCH EIGHTEEN: Warren/Emily (Homicidal) vs. Adam/The Monster (Frankenstein)

PROPAGANDA FOR WARREN/EMILY:

"this is basically a Psycho knock-off, complete with a """killer cross-dresser with a split personality"". what's interesting to me here, however, is how convoluted it all is, meaning Warren/Emily is simultaneously (evil) transmasc and (evil) transfem. i kind of love that"

PROPAGANDA FOR ADAM:

"Isn't their whole story about being brought into this world anew, fully formed, and then near immediately scorned by his creator because of one minute detail within, that he couldn't change? Isn't there something to be said about having to go out into the wilderness, only because of the consequences of your birth? I mean, i could go on about the inherent transgenderism of making a body in the first place but DAMN there is something to be said about the OG "making a body" story."

"While Frankenstein uses male pronouns for the creature, viewing the creature as a reflection of himself, the creature does not and the authors note from mary shelley refers to the creature with it/its. In addition, the creature is repeatedly paralleled with the female characters. Justine and the creature share similar experiences of having a same-sex creator who rejects them, neglects them, and insults them, but while Justine is able to find a home and recover the creature never is. They’re additionally tied together through Justine being blamed for William’s murder despite the creature being the real killer. Then later, the creature parallels itself to Safie. We call it the creature because that’s how it refers to itself, and while he refers to other people as “humans” to place distance between it and them, it takes a special liking to Safie and refers to it as a “creature” aswell. It takes this fascination to mean its attracted to women and should have a female companion and while that may be true i think theres a level of identification through the other it doesnt realize. Also something something base theme of the creature wants love and acceptance but cant get it because its society and creator are intolerant of it and view it as being agaisnt both nature and god. [...] TLDR I think if you brought Frankensteins monster into modern day it would choose to be some flavor of transfem or demigirl because it naturally relates to women while its masculine identity was forced upon it by its creator"

[theunholyvirginemilyprentiss]

MORGAN: *Whispering* Hey, Penelope. I wanna prank Prentiss, how do you put the cracked screen special effect over a photo?

PENELOPE: Oh, well you—

EMILY: *Appears out of nowhere, grabs his phone, launches it at the ground, and stomps on it.*

PENELOPE: …

MORGAN: …

EMILY: Like that.

[m1serylovesc0mpany]

[garvezs]

say what you will but there will always be a place in my heart for hotchniss

[disposal-blueeee]

VARGASTOBER - day 2 : johnny c.

[fr0gg13b413]

TRYING TO SOLVE MY IDENTITY LIKE A HOMICIDE, TO FIND THE MURDERER IN THE MIRROR; ON IDENTITY

portrait of fryderyk in shifting light, richard siken // @/angelcommunist // Edward hopper interior, model reading (1925) // joan didion on self-respect (via @/girlfictions) // james tate selected poems (via @/heartshop) //arturo ferrari, in the old street, vicolo san bernardino alle ossa a milano // fernando pessoa, the book of disquiet: the complete edition // memento mori by welder wings // How we Fight for our Lives by Saeed Jones (2019) // The Prisoner, Emily Brontë // Evening - Maurice Pirenne // Emily Dickinson, letter 182 // Donte Collins, Grief, Again // Mahmoud Darwish, Memory for Forgetfulness // Portrait of a Lady on Fire (2019) // Everything Everything, Nicola Yoon

my first web weave :>

[fazgoo-connoiseur-1987]

Since I've heard you're open for drawing requests at the moment -- if it's alright to ask, may I ask for a drunk William with a sober Henry trying to get him home safely? :D I love your art, btw!

This happens a lot I think

[samhainvenus]

It's "being feral about a gay bastard" hours: Henry Emily edition

[ddejavvu]

pairing: aaron hotchner x reader

summary: your BeReal for the day is, perhaps, a little too real

contents/warnings: smut (18+, minors dni)

There's no mistaking the notification that chimes on your nightstand. It's BeReal, the unique sound lets you know, and you're not in the best position right now to answer it.

You're in the best position, period. You're sprawled out against Aaron's silky bedsheets, the fabric soothing and cool against your flushed skin. You're sweaty, hot, and bothered, your cunt begging for more as Aaron drives his cock repeatedly through your sopping folds.

"Fuck," You hiss, partially at the feeling of Aaron's teeth scraping at your collarbone, and partially because you panic at the sound, "Aaron, my- gimme my phone."

"Don't you think this is a little more important?" He grunts, nearly knocking his skull into your jaw as he lunges for a kiss. He takes you by surprise, and you're nearly pulled away from your urgency to post when his tongue practically slips down your throat.

You nearly gag on it, and your nails take a break from scratching up his back to weave through the short strands of hair at the back of his neck. It's not long enough to tug, but he huffs at the feeling of your nails scraping across his scalp, and rocks his hips into yours slightly faster.

"Oh, fuck, Aaron," You pant when he finally lets you breathe, burying his head in your shoulder to bite at the skin there instead, "Aaron this is so hot, I wanna- please, I wanna post it."

"No face," He instructs, and you're more than happy to choose a different area of his body to focus on, "Don't need Garcia figuring us out."

The moans that escape your mouth, albeit muffled by Aaron's own, are so pornographic that you're paranoid they'll somehow be captured in the photo you snap. When you finally get your hands on your phone you aim it at Aaron's back, as well as the red stripes left by your newly manicured nails, and snap a photo. Then, with the front camera, your jaw that's been sucked sore by Aaron, and in the corner of the shot, his short black hair and strong jawline nestled against your skin. You keep it just as he's instructed, vague enough of a profile so that your coworkers shouldn't be able to figure out that it's him, and his post without a second thought. You feel the buzzings of replies soon after, but you're no longer capable of caring about them while they vibrate against your nightstand, much happier to focus on Aaron's relentless jackhammering into your pulsating cunt.

--

Gathering in the conference room the next day means that you get a lot of shit-eating grins. You'd expected it, what with the soft porn you'd posted, and you're surprised when even Rossi offers you his congratulations.

"Nice going, kiddo," He knocks elbows with you, and you laugh sheepishly.

"You saw?"

"Morgan filled me in," He nods, "Garcia was the first one to know, of course, but it spread very quickly."

You don't have it in you to be embarrassed in front of your team too badly. You're all adults, and they're more proud of you than anything, even if Reid's smile is extra awkward today.

"Just be glad Hotch doesn't have the app," Emily laughs, and for a moment you forget that they don't know you're together. But you play it off with a wry smile towards her as your Unit Chief walks through the door, and you're happy to let your attention drift to him as he speaks.

His tone is authoritative, like always, and you fight to stop something from stirring between your legs. You tune into what he's saying instead, something about a double homicide in Kansas, and that helps dissuade any distracting thoughts you might have had.

"-and those pictures are... not on the monitor." Aaron narrows his eyes at the black screen, and Garcia nearly breaks the remote trying to get it to respond.

"Sir, I'm trying! I'm sorry," She frets, mashing all of the buttons at once in her panic, "It's not working, I- I think the batteries might be dead?"

"I changed them two weeks ago," Hotch shakes his head while taking the remote from her, stepping up towards the monitor to fiddle with the buttons beneath it, "It's alright, Garcia, it's not your fault."

He cranes his head down to peer at remote in his hand, intent on making sure no acid has leaked from the batteries, but when he does so, the back of his neck is no longer covered by his shirt collar, and it's bright red.

There's clear marks from your nails, red streaks that haven't faded in the mere hours they've been left alone and probably won't for another day. It barely takes any time for a room of profilers to connect two and two, and Penelope's position as technical analyst doesn't hinder her realization.

Your hand shoots over your mouth as the rest of your team exchanges incredulous gasps and jeers, all looking rapidly between you and Hotch. He turns to raise an eyebrow at them all and his eyes land on your bashful grin.

"Remind me to rub some aloe on the back of your neck when we get home," You mumble sheepishly, and there's only more scandalized comments made about how you two go home together.

Aaron's jaw clenches and he sighs defeatedly at the realization that you've both been caught, a hand flying up to cup the back of his neck.

Everyone waits with bated breath to hear what he has to say for himself but he can't manage to muster up anything to save the awkward situation.

"We'll look at the details on the jet," He grumbles, setting the faulty remote on the counter and snatching his bag off of the ground beside his chair, "Wheels up in thirty, and we never speak of this again."

[mcroutfits]

7/10 frank's chucky costume: he'd sneak into your closet and spit on your face while you sleep... steal your guitar if you happen to have one... homicidal chucky sized man

on flickr / by emily torres photo

[horrorvillaintourney]

HORROR'S NEXT TOP GENDER, ROUND ONE MATCH EIGHTEEN: The Bride in Black (Insidious) vs. Warren/Emily (Homicidal)

PROPAGANDA FOR THE BRIDE:

"Her outfit is just so good. I love her v[e]il and red lipstick. Problematic goth icon for real."

PROPAGANDA FOR WARREN/EMILY:

"this is basically a Psycho knock-off, complete with a """killer cross-dresser with a split personality"". what's interesting to me here, however, is how convoluted it all is, meaning Warren/Emily is simultaneously (evil) transmasc and (evil) transfem. i kind of love that"

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

hello!! i humbly ask for some price fluff… maybe sleeping on his chest or something or getting ready for bed

—Hum Me A Tune, Blue-Eyes

⇢ ˗ˏˋ 5k Drabble Masterlist ࿐ྂ

╰┈➤ ❝ [You listen to his heartbeat as he keeps you to his chest, his breath tickling your hair.] ❞

Your eyes are half closed and drooping farther by the second, a warmth so bone-deep blooming beneath the skin that it fully encapsulates your consciousness.

John keeps your head against his chest, one callused hand on the back of your skull and massaging in small circles. You hear him hum under his breath as he watches you; his own lids teetering up and down.

In the background, the gentle sound of the record player spits out Beethoven.

"You're makin' me sleepy," you whisper, nuzzling against John's chest and his shirt with a large sigh. The man grunts, and you feel his lips meet your scalp in a deep kiss. He smells like linen and beard oil.

Into your hair, John mutters, "Good." It's more a purr than anything else as you shiver at the sensation of his body grumbling from under you.

The living room is the picture of a Saturday afternoon—dishes in the kitchen sink, laundry in the basket to be put away; the couch you both lay on sinking with your combined weight. Sun streaming through the curtains.

You've forgotten how you both ended up in this position in the first place. Not that it mattered to you now.

"Like you here." The Brit huffs, the blue of his eyes dim and content. Pools of molten sapphire. It's as if whenever he holds you everything else falls away into a sheen of contentment.

There's no war here with you on his chest—no gunfire or yelling orders. Just the heat of your body and the swell of lungs as your chest bares down on him. John's lashes flutter.

"Course you do," you tease, slowly, before kissing his clothed chest. John stifles a chuckle, his lips curling along your scalp as his breath tickles your hair. His hands spread out along your back—curling as a snake would. Tight and firm. You don't mind in the slightest. "Careful, Captain...don't go sleeping on duty."

Briefly, you peek up at him through your addled haze. He lays a kiss on your forehead and his lips twitch as you continue. Such a greedy cuddler. "We still have sheets to put on the bed, y'know."

There was no way the both of you were leaving this couch. Not with John's large hands caressing your spine. Not with how you fit atop him so perfectly with your dead weight and adorable sleepy blinks.

This was fucking heavenly.

"Fuckin' hell," the brunette grumbles; he hikes you farther up as you let him drag you like a stuffed animal with a tiny grunt. John sighs, settling you. "Bloody forget about it. You're not movin' an inch."

"That a promise...or an order?"

"Both." You smile, letting his large lungs raise you up and down as if sleeping atop a grizzly bear. Maybe, you thought, you were.

"Sleep, Love," John whispers. "I'll be right here with you."

And as you close your eyes fully and slot your head under the man's chin, the gruff brunette joins not seconds later into the state of oblivion. Soft inhalations; greedy hands that anchor like steel. A scrape of beard hair against your ear.

The house settles, the music plays, and the two Lovers sleep; dead to all else except one another's arms.

TAGS:

@luuvbuzz, @emerald-valkyrie, @anna-banana27, @blueoorchid, @cryingnotcrying, @writeforfandoms, @homicidal-slvt, @jade-jax, @frazie99, @elmoees, @littlemisstrouble, @alpineswinter, @phoenixhalliwell, @idocarealot, @lavalleon, @facelessmemories, @h-leigh, @20forty9, @glitter-anon-asks, @emily-who-killed-a-man, @neelehksttr, @aeneanc, @escapefromrealitysm, @i-d-1-0-t, @pparcxysm, @hawkscanendme, @caramlizedtomatos, @konigsleftkidney, @sanfransolomitatm, @maelstrom007, @jemandderkeinenusernamenfindet, @pheobees, @glitterypirateduck, @uselsshuman, @fan-of-encouragement, @halfmoth-halfman, @ghostlythunderbird, @I-inkage, @pukbadger, @kopatych11, @0nceinabluem00n, @cocrorapop, @knightofsexyness, @abnormalgeil, @smallseastone, @jacegons, @330bpm-whiplash, @simon-rileys-housewife, @4-atsu, @tiredmetalenthusiast

[watermelongirl01]

The Tattoo

Aaron Hotchner x fem!reader

Criminal Minds x Supernatural

Summary: Your first humankind case reveals a new Hotchner´s side you didn´t know.

Content Warning: Flirty Hotch, Homicide description, Abuse, Rape, Violence, Triggering situations. (Please let me know if I let something out.)

Note: This is my version of the episode "Jones" in the early seasons, I changed a lot of the things but not all of them, It is just how I would've liked the case to be in my opinion, and obviously added a bunch of other things to fit the thread of my story, like Jason Gideon not being there. I hope you like it.

“Short stuff, are you ready?” 

“Nope”

“Come on, you’re going to be just fine.” Morgan gifted you a reassuring smile.

This was your first time filling in for a member of the group. Normally it wasn’t necessary, but the team was reduced to four. Emily was on mandatory vacation and JJ stayed at home to take care of a sick Henry, so now your presence was requested.

“It’s not what I’m used to.”

“No it’s not, but you are a great agent and will do just fine.” He said gently squeezing your arm. “You will charm them all.” 

“Of course I will, there is no doubt.” You smiled back.

“Let’s go then.” 

You both walked to the briefing room where the rest of the team was waiting, Morgan quickly walked to the empty chair In front of you, slightly pushing you to the side, leaving you with no option but to sit next to Hotch, not that you minded but lately all the members of the team have been acting a little weird.

You looked at Morgan with a questioning look but he completely ignored you and lowered his gaze to read the case files.

“We have a serial killer in New Orleans. Two men’s dead bodies were found over the last month, and a third body was found last night, the same MO, male, throat slashed, they were all found in semi-public places in the French Quarter.” You heard Penelope explain.  “The local police have no leads and no suspects so far, Mike Weller, the head detective is waiting for you.”

Hotch nodded and looked at everyone in the room. “Wheels up in thirty.” He said before disappearing out the door. 

—

When arriving, Hotch sent you and Reid to the forensic lab to examine the body.

“No hesitation marks.” You said pointing to the terrible wounds.

Spencer nodded. “Cuts are methodical and almost procedural.”

The forensic doctor looked at both of you. “The person who did this definitely had medical training, there’s no other way he could have done this.”

“He?” You glaze up to the doctor.

“No defensive wounds and took out pretty big men.” You frowned. “Although all the toxicology tests showed signs of alcohol.” 

“Any relatives came to claim the body?” Spencer asked.

The doctor nodded. “His wife came with his former colleague.” Both of you looked at him with a confused expression. “He was a retired officer.”

“The lead detective didn’t say anything about that.”

“I’m not surprised, he wasn’t popular at all, he had a reputation for being a dirty cop.” 

“I’ll call Garcia.” You said getting your phone out.

But suddenly Spencer’s phone began to ring and he immediately answered. “Where? Okay, we’ll be there.”  He looked at you as he got off the phone. “Another body was found, call her on the way there.” 

—

“Same MO.” Morgan informed. “Some people saw him leave the bar down the street.” 

“So, he was drunk just like the other victim.” You said while eyeing the Weller. “Do we know his profession?”

“Does it matter?” He asked with a hint of annoyance in his voice.

You step aside standing closer to him and shrugging your shoulders. “Humor me, detective.”

Detective Weller side-eyed you but nodded. “He was a well-known lawyer.”

“I see.” You crossed your arms while raising an eyebrow. “You forgot to mention that the fourth victim was a cop who used to work at your police station.”

“I don’t think it is relevant to the case.” Weller huffed.

“Well, we don’t know that yet.” You insisted. “Do we?”

The BAU men were looking at your disagreement with confusion, and suddenly a strong back wearing a gray and elegant suit got in between, blocking your vision. It took only a few seconds to recognize that it belonged to Hotchner.

“We would like to have access to all of the information available, it’s vital to be able to get the unsub’s profile.“ You heard Aaron talking to the detective.

“Sure, Agent Hotchner.” After Weller left the crime scene, Hotch turned around to see you.

“You are riding with me.” Hotch left the place hurriedly making you roll your eyes and toss your keys at Spencer.

You manage to keep up with Hotch’s pace and climb up on the SUV, some minutes passed and neither of you talked, but you got tired of the unbearable silence.

“If you’re going to scold me, just do it now.”

“I’m not.”

“Hotch he was in the wrong, you know that, right?”

“I’m aware.” You shot him a puzzled look.

“Then why get in the middle of my conversation?”

”Because that wasn’t a conversation, he was starting to raise his voice.”

“I can take it, Hotchner.”

“I know you can, doesn’t mean I want you to.” You felt how your facial expression softened at his comment. “Listen, some of these detectives think we are here to make them look bad, they feel threatened.”

You rolled your eyes. “How are their insecurities my fault?”

Hotch chuckled a bit. “They are not, just go easy on them so we can keep the case.”

—

You, Hotch, and Spencer stayed at the precinct to read all the new information about the victims while Rossi and Morgan left to talk with the new possible witnesses. Currently, you are on your third cup of coffee and your fifth case file.

“I can’t believe we were missing all this information.” You hissed.

“Simmer down.” Hotch murmured.

You looked at the evidence board leaning against the table, focusing on the victim's photos, and frowning when looking closer.

“Oh.”

“You found something new?” Spencer asked.

“Hmm, have you seen that all the victims have tattoos?” Both men got closer to look at the photos. 

“Well actually, in some religions tattoos are forbidden because they think of the body as a temple.” Spencer babbled and immediately stood up from his chair. “Some other religions even think that if you get a tattoo, you’re not allowed in heaven.”

“Really?” A look of confusion crossed your face.

Spencer quickly nodded while pointing up with his finger. “You shall not make any cuttings in your flesh for the dead, nor tattoo any marks on you: I am the Lord. Leviticus 19:28.” He added.

“So, we think this is a religious matter?” You asked.

“It could be a coincidence. Let’s ask Garcia if she can find something about it.” Spencer took his phone and left the room, leaving you and Hotch alone, looking at the board side to side.

“Well, that’s concerning. You know, some tattoos are meant to protect you.”

Hotch turned his head towards you. “What do you mean?”

“There’s this kind of tattoos that are protection symbols, usually hunters get them.”

“You have one?” Hotch’s upright posture was visibly shaken.

“I'm no hunter.” You said before walking back to the table, Hotch following you. “But yes, I do have one.”

“I’ve never seen a tattoo on you.” Hotch frowns

“That´s because it’s not in a visible spot.” You giggled while turning your back on Hotch to take out another stack of files.

Hotch’s eyes were found unconsciously roaming over your body. He had seen you in the summer, in short skirts and tiny tops, or with risky cleavages, hell he even had seen you in your pajamas when you shared a hotel room once or twice, but he never noticed any tattoos. That can only mean one last place. 

Hotch knew you were busy getting the files so his eyes ended up going down your back to your ass, He was positive your tattoo was on your hip or ass. 

You could feel Hotch’s eyes going down and up your body, You even turned your back on him longer than needed, so he could linger his sight on you even longer. Anyone could’ve said it was just Hotch’s curiosity but you saw that tiny shade of lust, sparkle in his eyes for a brief moment when you mentioned you having a tattoo.

You turned your body in a slow move and caught him still hypnotized by your body. “Looking for something Hotch?”

“Hips or ass, agent?” He asked with a straight face but his voice showed a hint of playfulness. He was teasing you.

The question made you smirk. “You’re not gonna hear it from me, you’re going to need to find out in another way, Sir.”

But before he could open his mouth to speak, Spencer came back to the room with bad news.

“Another body appeared, no tattoo.”

–

“Body number five, we can barely keep up with this guy.” you heard in the distance.

“Do we know who he is?” Hotch asked.

“Since it matters so much, His friend says he is a salesman.” Weller said, sending a nasty look at you. “No connection.”

“Detective Weller, I would appreciate it if your answer were directed at me. When I ask a question.” Hotch replied.

Weller huffed with irritation and you thought you heard him grumble something, but you’re not sure if he was agreeing with Hotch or cursing you under his breath. “We have five bodies, Agent Hotchner, and no correlation.”

“Okay, all victims were partying late at night with their friends and killed in the alley with no one noticing, how did the unsub manage to get them alone?” Hotch looked at his team, they were all lost in thoughts.

“A woman.” Detective Weller's mocking laughter echoed in the room.

“Let her finish.” It only took the look on Hotch’s eyes to harden, to force Weller to shut up.

“What is the only temptation for a straight man that’s going to lure him away from his friends and make him leave the bar?” Your expecting eyes were moving around glancing at your team’s faces.

“A woman.” Rossi repeated while nodding his head.

Hotch turned on his heels and looked at the detective. “Gather your men, we are ready to give a profile.” 

—

“Ready?” Hotch whispered in your ear, making the baby hairs on the back of your neck stand at the sound of his voice.

“What?” You whispered back feeling numb by his closeness.

“Ready to give the profile?” 

“Hotch, I’ve never gi-.” Your voice trails off. “I don’t think it is a good idea.”

“It is.” He assured you pushing you to the side and walking to the room full of cops.

Lost in your thoughts you barely felt two hands holding your arms from behind, giving you a light squeeze. “You got this, Kid.” Rossi left your side and followed Hotch in the other precinct's room.

You sighed and took a deep breath. This was your first time profiling a human case, not covering up supernatural events or rehearsing made-up stories. This felt different, good different.

You walked confidently and stood in the middle of the room surrounded by your team.

“We are looking for a woman between 30 and 35, she’s friendly, she’ll lure with charm but kill with rage.” You began your speech, feeling every pair of eyes looking at you with attention. “We believe she kills men to reclaim her power.” 

“She probably suffers from low self-esteem but covers it well.” You heard Morgan's voice.

“We believe this woman went through a catastrophic event, that’s when the killing started.” Rossi pointed.

“She has medical training, you should consider EMTs, doctors, or veterinarians.” 

“It’s more likely we are dealing with the Aileen Wournos archetype, motivated by paranoia and fear, luring men with sex.” Spencer added.

“She certainly knows the terrain, so be careful out there.” Hotch remarked.

A couple of hours later after the profile, Detective Weller came in a hurry with a piece of paper in an evidence bag.

“Forensics found a letter on the victim's body.” He said handing it over to Hotch. “She’s mocking us.”

“Dear boss, he wanted it. With that sharp tongue and vulgar hand. I thought you’d like to know that another will soon get what he deserves.

Yours truly.”  

“That 's weird.” All eyes searched Spencer’s voice. “Typically offenders write letters to be heard. Jack the Ripper bragged about not being caught yet this Unsub isn’t using correspondence to flaunt her latest kill. Only to explain why she did it.” He explained while moving his hands around.

“It’s possible that she considers herself a vigilante. That the man she’s killing deserves to die.” Rossi blurted.

“Then, every kill she’s acting out is a fantasy of revenge or a real revenge?” Everyone in the room returned to their thoughts wondering at Morgan’s question.

You shifted in your place with uncertainty. “Maybe she is contacting us not because we are on the case, but because she believes we understand.” With fingers tapping against the wood, you began to unravel the tiny hints in the letter. “The Unsub wrote, He wanted it as she couldn’t help herself. What if she’s mirroring the man who raped her?”

”Where are the files stored from your Sex Crimes Division?” Hotch looked at Weller’s direction.

The detective stepped out of the room momentarily and returned with a medium-sized carton box with a few files that barely stuck out of the box. “Here they are.”

“That 's it?” You let out with a surprised tone of voice.

After several hours of trying to match your profile with any file in the box, you were exhausted. You decided to take a quick break and enter the bathroom, You locked yourself inside one of the bathroom booths and sighed while your hands held your head.

The sound of the door being opened ripped you out of your pessimistic thoughts. Suddenly a hand left a piece of paper report at your feet, leaving you uncertain on what to do. You tried to thank the person but, you were answered with fast footsteps leaving the place.

You took the paper and read in a whispered voice, Disturbance at Jones.

~~

“Care to tell us what happened then, detective?” Hotch asked.

Detective Weller shifted in his seat with discomfort. “How did you know about this incident?”

“It was in the box you gave us, Weller.” Morgan said while leaning against the wall, looking directly at Weller.

“I don’t think so.”

“Maybe you misplaced it, who cares?” You argued. 

He looked at you with disdain. Aaron couldn’t help himself and stepped closer to you showing protection. “This happened when the head detective before me was in charge, I took some of the declarations but that’s it.”

You smirked with satisfaction Knowing you were right all along. “The detective before you as our third victim?” He nodded.

“What happened there, detective?” 

“One of the boys asked her if she wanted to play pool. Witnesses claim she was up for anything. His friend, not far behind.“ All the eyes were on him. “He claims she knew he was there, She said she claimed for help but not a single person claimed that they heard her.”

You shook your head in disbelief. 

He continued, “That’s why it was registered as a disturbance. She wanted to press charges. But the head detective back then told her it was a waste of time.”

“How is this just a disturbance?” Rossi asked, frowning at Weller.

“As far as I was concerned, no such rape ever took place, and the boy was a colleague’s son, he is a good boy.”

Something in your stomach twisted and anger started to build up.

“We are trying to know her name; she could be our Unsub.” Morgan pointed out. Weller sighed when this realization dawned on him, but he slightly shook his head as he was ashamed of not knowing the answer. 

But you were sure shame wasn’t a feeling men like that could understand.

“You don’t remember her name?“ Morgan asked with incredulity.

“It was nine years ago.” 

“What about the name of the good kid that raped her?” You bickered.

~~

“Mr. Tibideaux, we need you to answer a few questions about a disturbance you were involved with.“ Hotch’s voice resonated inside the four walls of the interrogation room.

“I don’t know what you are talking about.”

Disgust appeared in your face, but you hid it by biting your tongue. You didn’t know why Hotch asked you to be there, but you hated every minute of it.

“At a bar called Jones, It was Mardi Gras.” Hotch reminded him.

“You know, then I must’ve been drinking or something. Cause I don’t remember a thing.”

With your feet tapping the floor, you were counting the seconds to be able to leave the room and be away from the so-called good boy.

“We just need to know the name of your accuser.” Hotch demanded. If he was annoyed there was no way to know.

“Look, I told you. I don’t know what you are talking about”

You roughly massaged your right temple, fuming.

”The statute of limitations is up, we just need a name.” He added calmly.

“Someone accuses me of rape, I’m gonna remember her name.” You taunted.

“Well, what can I tell you, Cher? I guess she didn’t make that good of an impression.“

Your eyes narrowed dismissively.

”Unlike yourself right now.” You retorted.

“You know. I’m guessing if someone did do something to that girl that night then she was probably asking for it. Maybe even liked it.”

You controlled the urge to smash his head against the table and abruptly took the file out of Hotch’s hands, you opened it and began to display all the victim's photos in front of him.

“You know Hotch, maybe we are not too late, she murdered these men and I’m guessing it’s only a matter of time before she works her way back to the one she really wants to kill.” You tilted your head to look at him but he was busy looking at the pictures with a horrified look. “Is she making an impression now?

Your words suggested you were talking to Hotch but your sight was set on the other man in the room.

“You don’t want to tell us, fine.” You snickered. “Cause Daddy can’t make this go away, and I have no problem waiting for your dead body to give me a new hint.”  

You leaned closer, you didn’t have to talk anymore, you knew your eyes were saying enough. But you continued.

“In fact, I wouldn’t like anything else, so I’m gonna go ahead and set my alarm for tomorrow morning when I get the call from the police.” You ranted.  “Cause, believe me, I’m going to sleep better knowing there is one less offender out of the streets.”

After hearing the name you needed, you stormed out of the room leaving everyone behind without looking back until you heard a voice calling for you.

“That was out of line, agent.” You abruptly stopped and turned on your heels to look at Weller. 

“The only thing out of line is how pathetic you are at doing your job, Weller.” You turned back at him one more time and kept waking till reaching a quiet corner to make a phone call.

“Work me.” You hear Penelope’s voice on your phone.

“We have a name. Sarah Danlin. I need an address.”

“1141 Sherman Avenue. It looks like she was a med student at Tulane but she dropped out.”

“Let me guess, February nine years ago.”

“Yeah.”

“Thanks.” 

~~

You returned to the hotel room by Hotchner’s request, and you knew he was in the right to send you back, you got carried away by your emotions. 

You were a mess. Closing your room door, you let your emotions overpower you once more. Tears were falling down your face. You weren’t sure what you were feeling. No one ever prepared you for this kind of case, you felt powerless, empty, and lost. And finally, rage possessed your emotions.

You tossed glasses and trails of empty dishes, and your luggage and clothes flew around the room until your energy and strength gave up and tiredness reached you.

You are sure the hotel staff let Hotch know, cause he kept checking with you constantly. He let you know when they arrested her and how she told them she killed every man who helped cover up her abuse.

You heard your door being open and looked at Hotchner with a questioning look when you saw him standing there.

“How did you open my door?” 

He showed you his key. “We are sharing.”

You frowned. “Since when?”

“Since now, there has been an unexpected cut in the budget.” You nodded knowing it was a lie and he probably wanted to check on you. But you said nothing.

“Some things fall by themselves, I think there’s a ghost.” You said when you caught him looking at the mess on the floor.

“I think you can manage that.” 

He left his duffel bag on the floor and sat next to you on the bed. 

“Are you okay?” He asked.

That simple question was enough to break your strong façade. It was a question you normally have no problem answering with a lie, and you didn’t know if it was the situation or just because Hotch was the one asking. But it brought you down to tears. 

He took you in his arms and hugged you tight.

“I’m sorry.” 

“It 's okay.” He softly mumbled on your head reassuring you. “You said what you needed to say.”

You quickly shook your head.

“I meant it.” You sniffled. “I was willing to wait.”

“I know.” He said while caressing your back with soothing movements. 

“So, normally you have to deal with these detectives making your job impossible?”

“Yeah, all the time.” He chuckled. 

“God, it’s exhausting.” You laugh a little 

“You don’t?”

“No, they basically beg me to take the case out of their hands.” 

Hotch sighed. “You need to learn new methods for the interrogation.” He searched for your eyes. “I mean, only if you want to keep coming to these cases with us, you want to?”

“Yeah.” You smiled at him.

“You are a profiler now, welcome to the team.”

~~

Back in Quantico, you were getting ready to leave your office when you got a call from an unknown number. You hesitated but finally answered after letting it ring for a couple of seconds.

“Hello?”

“Hey, sweetheart.”

“Dean?” You frowned looking back at the number.

“We need a little bit of help.” Reality sank on you.

“Tell me you are not calling from where I think you are calling.” 

“Agent Henriksen got to us.”

“Damn it, Dean, How the heck did he manage to do that?”

“Bella Talbot.”

“That bitch again?” You sighed. “Where are you?”

“Colorado.”

“I’m on my way.”

[chaoticace2005]

Then there’s Niffty- homicidal heterosexual and Adam- heterosexually homicidal

With the next information from @onesidedradiostatic that Vox literally GLITCHED OUT IN BISEXUAL (cause we knew about the gay, but the bi? Cmon) I felt the urge to make this.

(“Canon” based on show confirmation or confirmation by writers)

Gay: Angel (canon), Arackniss (HC), Stolas (canon)

Lesbian: Velvette (HC), Carmilla (HC), Vaggie (canon)

Bi: Cherri (canon), Charlie (canon), Vox (canon)(Other canon bisexuals: Sir Pentious (?), Millie, Moxxie)

Pan: Valentino (canon), Husk (canon), Blitzø (canon)

Ace: Alastor (canon), Zestial (HC), Emily (HC)

Queer: Fizzarolli (canon), Ozzie (canon), Sir Pentious (Viv said possibly bi)

[oneshotnewbie]

𝐵𝑒𝑡𝑤𝑒𝑒𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑙𝑖𝑛𝑒𝑠 𝑜𝑓 𝑤𝑎𝑖𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑔

𝘌𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘺 𝘗𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘴𝘴 𝘹 𝘙𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

𝐴𝑢𝑡ℎ𝑜𝑟𝑠 𝑛𝑜𝑡𝑒: 𝐼 𝑓𝑒𝑙𝑡 𝑙𝑖𝑘𝑒 𝑏𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑘𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑠𝑜𝑚𝑒 ℎ𝑒𝑎𝑟𝑡𝑠 𝑠𝑜 ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒'𝑠 𝑎 𝑠𝑡𝑜𝑟𝑦 𝐼 𝑤𝑟𝑜𝑡𝑒 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑦𝑜𝑢. 𝑇𝑢𝑚𝑏𝑙𝑟 𝑖𝑠 𝑝𝑟𝑒𝑡𝑡𝑦 𝑑𝑒𝑎𝑑 𝑟𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡 𝑛𝑜𝑤 𝑏𝑢𝑡 ℎ𝑒𝑦, 𝐼 𝑤𝑜𝑛'𝑡 𝑠𝑡𝑜𝑝 𝑝𝑢𝑏𝑙𝑖𝑠ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑚𝑦 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑑𝑠. 𝑀𝑒𝑟𝑟𝑦 𝐶ℎ𝑟𝑖𝑠𝑡𝑚𝑎𝑠 𝑡𝑜 𝑦'𝑎𝑙𝑙!

𝑆𝑢𝑚𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑦: 𝑇𝑤𝑜 𝑒𝑥-𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒𝑟𝑠 𝑤ℎ𝑜 ℎ𝑎𝑣𝑒𝑛'𝑡 𝑠𝑝𝑜𝑘𝑒𝑛 𝑖𝑛 𝑦𝑒𝑎𝑟𝑠 𝑢𝑛𝑒𝑥𝑝𝑒𝑐𝑡𝑒𝑑𝑙𝑦 𝑟𝑢𝑛 𝑖𝑛𝑡𝑜 𝑒𝑎𝑐ℎ 𝑜𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑑𝑢𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑎 𝑑𝑒𝑙𝑎𝑦𝑒𝑑 𝑓𝑙𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡. 𝐵𝑜𝑡ℎ ℎ𝑎𝑣𝑒 𝑔𝑟𝑜𝑤𝑛 𝑖𝑛 𝑑𝑖𝑓𝑓𝑒𝑟𝑒𝑛𝑡 𝑑𝑖𝑟𝑒𝑐𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛𝑠, 𝑏𝑢𝑡 𝑜𝑙𝑑 𝑓𝑒𝑒𝑙𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠 𝑟𝑒𝑠𝑢𝑟𝑓𝑎𝑐𝑒. 𝐹𝑜𝑟𝑐𝑒𝑑 𝑡𝑜 𝑠𝑝𝑒𝑛𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑛𝑒𝑥𝑡 ℎ𝑜𝑢𝑟𝑠 𝑡𝑜𝑔𝑒𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑎𝑡 𝑎𝑛 𝑎𝑖𝑟𝑝𝑜𝑟𝑡, 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑦 𝑏𝑒𝑔𝑖𝑛 𝑢𝑛𝑟𝑎𝑣𝑒𝑙𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑠𝑡𝑜𝑟𝑦 𝑜𝑓 𝑤ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑤𝑒𝑛𝑡 𝑤𝑟𝑜𝑛𝑔 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑤ℎ𝑒𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑦 𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑙𝑑 𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑟 ℎ𝑎𝑣𝑒 𝑎 𝑓𝑢𝑡𝑢𝑟𝑒 𝑎𝑔𝑎𝑖𝑛.

ᕚ---ᕘ

It was one of those nights that seem dull and tedious, time stretching and fatigue weighing heavily on her shoulders. Emily Prentiss sat in a worn-out leather chair at the gate, and the airport lay in a strange silence that only happened at midnight. She felt the weight of fatigue in her bones, and it was not a pleasant, peaceful exhaustion.

The flight was delayed - something that normally didn't bother her much. She was used to the constant waiting, juggling unpredictable schedules and long nights. It was the everyday life she had chosen. Homicides, investigations, unforeseen trips. The hectic pace of the FBI had consumed her completely, and she had learned that every minute of waiting was just another opportunity to think - or not to think, if she did it right. Normally she was good at distracting herself, but today her head was spinning in circles and her thoughts were restless.

Tonight everything felt different. The delay of her flight seemed like an endless ordeal. There was something in the air that she could recognize but couldn't describe. Maybe the combination of the dim neon lights and the quiet, dull hum of the airport that made her melancholy. She looked at her watch - just after midnight. Emily pulled the collar of her jacket tighter around herself. The cold had reached her muscles and she wished the damn flight home would finally be called.

The fluorescent lights above her flickered and the muted hum of the terminal was the only accompaniment. She reached for the cold paper cup in her hand, the stale aroma of the old coffee rising to her nose. She could have gotten up and gotten a fresh one, but something held her back. Emily took a sip of the bitter, lukewarm coffee and leaned back as her gaze wandered over the individual people who were also stranded here like her.

It was late, and the few people left seemed just as exhausted as she was. Most people were either curled up in their seats or waiting for their flights with their eyes closed. Her gaze continued to wander through the terminal, lost in thought, when it stopped on a figure. A woman, just a few feet away, leaned over a water bottle that she was trying to stuff into her bag. The fragile statue, the familiar movements - her chest suddenly tightened.

She paused, her eyes widened, her tiredness gone as she took in the silhouette more clearly. Even after all these years, she would have recognized this woman anywhere.

You.

For a moment, Emily's breath stopped, her heart rate increased. An unexpected wave of emotion ran through her, and she felt her stomach suddenly tighten. She hadn't seen you in years, but she would have recognized you anywhere. The immaculately cut hair, a little shorter than before, the simple but elegant black blazer, the way you sat confidently in your chair - nothing about you had really changed. You were still an unmistakable woman. Once her lover, risen to become an aspiring and brilliant lawyer who had long since earned a reputation in the city as a tireless fighter for justice, despite her young and tender age.

You seemed a little absent, perhaps just as tired as she was. Emily felt an old, familiar warmth that she thought she had long forgotten rising up inside her, mixed with a slight pang of regret. The years that lay between them, the painful memories and the sudden end of your relationship - all of that suddenly seemed to be present again.

She hadn't expected to see you here. But at the same time, it somehow felt inevitable that you would run into each other again at some point. You had lived in the same city, after all, but your paths had never crossed after the breakup - until now.

Why now? Why here?

Her fingers tightened around the cold paper cup. She tried to turn away, but your eyes met hers as you looked up, and for a moment the world around you both seemed to disappear. Emily saw you pause, your brow furrowing briefly, as if you weren't sure you really recognized her. But then your eyes widened, and the expression on your face changed to a mixture of surprise and something she couldn't quite read - maybe pain, maybe just a deeply buried memory.

"Emily?" your voice, a soft whisper, but it broke the silence between you like a clap of thunder. It had been so long since she had heard that sound - rough and gentle at the same time, familiar and yet strange. Emily couldn't help but smile, although the memories of your time together left a bittersweet note.

Emily nodded slightly, her hands tightening around the coffee cup. Her throat was suddenly dry. "Hi," she answered quietly, the uncertain smile lingering on her lips. It was a simple word, but it felt like the beginning of an avalanche.

You got up and took your place in the armchair next to her, and for a moment you just sat there, next to each other, without exchanging another word. The closeness was almost unbearable, so familiar and yet so strange. The years that lay between them had changed her, and yet she couldn't deny that the attraction to you was still there, like an echo of days gone by. Emily felt her heart pounding in her chest, the old memories continuing to overwhelm her despite her efforts to block them out.

It was as if an invisible bond held you both together, and the years that lay between you could not be ignored. But also the fact that you both were sitting here, two people who had once shared everything together, were now strangers. The changes were obvious. You had both been through a lot, your lives had taken you in completely different directions - and yet, here you were, back at a point that almost seemed like a repeat of your last goodbye.

"It's been... a long time," you finally said, your voice quiet and a little shaky. Emily nodded slowly, unable to fight the flood of emotions that rose within her. "Yes, yes."

Her voice sounded calmer than she felt. Silence fell again. A heavy, uncomfortable silence, filled with all the words you had never said. Emily could feel the weight of your gaze as you studied her, searching for answers she couldn't give you.

You let your gaze wander around the room, as if you could somehow scatter the memories that had built up between you into the vastness of the terminal while she watched you out of the corner of her eye, noticing the way your jaw muscles tensed as you opened and closed your mouth, unsure of what to say. Emily felt the familiar tension return between you that she had once loved so much.

It was you who finally broke the silence. You turned your upper body to Emily, your eyes searching for an answer in her expression, for a thread that could tie together the loose ends of your past. "How are you?" you asked, and although it was a simple question, it sounded like the beginning of a much deeper conversation in that moment.

"Good, I guess," Emily replied, the smile fading from her face. She knew that neither of you were here to talk about small talk, but it felt like you were both slowly approaching the edge of real conversation, unsure if you were ready to take the plunge. "And you?"

You shrugged slightly, an almost familiar smile crossing your lips. "Different. The last few years have been... challenging. Lots of cases, lots of travel. It's not getting any calmer."

Emily nodded, not sure how to answer that. Her gaze wandered to the window, where she saw the flashing lights of the planes taking off, as if she could find an escape in the distance. But she knew there was no escape, not from this conversation, not from your past.

She understood your answer all too well. Even back when you were a student, you had the ambition and determination that made you one of the most sought-after lawyers in the city. Your daily work consisted of tireless commitment to your clients, traveling to hearings in different cities, and endless hours in courtrooms. Her life was no different. Murder cases, investigations, interrogations - the work at the FBI had never let up. Your jobs had swallowed you up until there was hardly any room left for anything else.

"God, it's been so long," you murmured, and Emily felt you move closer, as if you wanted to reduce the distance between you - not just physically, but emotionally too. "Yes," she said quietly, without looking at you. "Too long. But it's always been like that, hasn't it?" she continued, her eyes fixed on the cold coffee in her hands. "We never really had time for ourselves."

You looked at her for a long time before nodding. "No, we didn't."

That was the bitter truth that had always been unspoken between you. Both had built great careers, celebrated successes that many people your age didn't even dare to dream of. But that had its price. You were always on the move, always on the move to the next case, the next negotiation. And at some point the relationship simply broke under the weight of time and expectations.

"I've often thought about it. About you," she confessed after a while, as if the words were difficult to say. "Whether it could have been different if we'd had more time. If our jobs hadn't demanded so much of us."

You closed your eyes, letting the words sink in. You, too, had often thought about this possibility - about the version of your relationship that might have worked if you'd both been less busy and had taken more time together. But life couldn't just be rewound, and the decisions you'd made were irreversible.

"Me too," you finally answered. "But we were both too ambitious, too young, too... focused on our careers."

You had never properly said goodbye, never properly explained what had happened, why you lost each other. And now, in the middle of the night, in an almost deserted airport, this unspoken truth was suddenly everywhere, crushing you both under its weight. You had loved each other, that had never been the question. But it had been the love of two people who had both pushed themselves to the limit, who lived in different worlds, and in those worlds there hadn't been enough room for a stable relationship.

"Emily.." you hesitated, your hands nervously clasped together. "Why didn't you say anything back then?" your question hung in the air, like a gaping wound you had ignored for years. She felt her heart clench painfully, but she tried to keep up the facade. "I don't know," she answered quietly, even though she knew better. "It was.. complicated."

You looked at her painfully honestly, your eyes piercing, as if you wanted to force the truth out. "Complicated? Emily, you just.. gave up. You let me go. From one day to the next, even though we could have done it. And I never really understood why."

That was the moment she felt the lump in her throat grow. "It wasn't that easy," she answered, her voice breaking. "I just didn't... understand how we could become so estranged. And then it was like it was too late and I had to leave you before I could cause you more pain."

You stood up, unable to bear the tension any longer. You walked a few steps, then turned around, your face a mask of anger and pain. "Too late? It was never too late! You just gave up!"

She stood up, stepped closer to you, her eyes desperately searching for yours. "Do you think it was easy for me? I suffered, y/n! But we were... we were so far apart. I didn't know how to get through to you anymore," she began to speak, taking a deep breath. She had avoided thinking about it for so long, let alone talking about it. But now, here, facing you, she could no longer hide from it. "I was scared," she finally confessed, her voice shaking. "Fear that it's not enough. That I'm not good enough."

Her words cut deep, but you saw the truth in them. You both had lost yourselves in the hustle and bustle of life, in your careers, in your own insecurities. But it was easier to blame her than to accept the truth that you both had a part in it.

"Not enough? For what?" your face changed, your brow furrowed and you tilted your head slightly to the side as you processed her words.

Emily closed her eyes and took a deep breath before continuing. "For you. For us. I had this responsibility, my job at the FBI was getting more and more intense, and... I felt like I had to choose between you and my career."

The confession hung between you, and Emily felt a burden that had been on her shoulders for years lift from her shoulders - but at the same time she felt the weight of the consequences. You ran your hands through your hair and took a deep breath. "You decided what was best for us without asking me. You took away my choice."

"I know." Her voice was quiet and she lowered her gaze. "I was stupid. I loved you more than anything, but I was afraid I wouldn't be able to do you justice."

You frowned and she saw something flash in your eyes - confusion, maybe even disappointment. "You never asked me. You never talked about it. I would have always had my back, Emily. You know that."

"I know," she whispered, feeling shame rising in her. "But I didn't see it. I was so caught up in my own insecurity, in my fear, that at some point I just ran away. I thought it would be easier to let you go before I really lost you."

Your lips pressed into a thin line, and for a moment you said nothing. She could now clearly see the disappointment in your eyes, the misunderstood suffering that she had caused you. And in that moment she realized that she had never really given you the chance to fight for her.

You swallowed hard. Would you have really made it, would you have fought for your relationship? Would you still be together today, maybe even married?

"So you just let me go," you finally said, your voice cold and heavy. "I thought I was protecting you," she whispered back. "But I only hurt both of us."

"It hurt so much," you finally whispered, your voice barely audible. "I tried to reach you, but you kept getting further away from me until you were suddenly so far away."

Emily took another step closer, and this time she gently placed a hand on your forearm. "I know. And I'm sorry. I'm really sorry, y/n."

You felt the warmth of her hand through the fabric of your blazer. It was a small gesture, but it felt like the distance that had separated you for years was getting a little smaller in that moment.

"It was nobody's fault, but..." you finally said, your eyes moving from the floor back to hers. "Would you change anything if you could?" Emily looked at you, her gaze holding yours as she waited for your answer.

"Yes, everything," you said honestly. "But I don't know if we can ever be what we were again," you said quietly, the tears in your eyes fighting to not fall.

"Maybe not," she replied, her voice rough with suppressed emotions and tears. She looked at you for a long time, her gaze soft but at the same time infinitely sad. "But maybe we could find out who we are now."

She stepped closer and you raise your head, looking at her. For a split second you saw hope in her eyes. Was it possible that you could find a way back? Or was this simply the inevitable negotiation with the past?

The hours passed more slowly, dragging on, and as morning gradually dawned through the large windows of the terminal, you had said everything you had carried inside you for years. You had talked, been silent, looked at each other, until the past felt less like a barrier and more like a bridge that you could cross.

The airport slowly came to life, the announcements over the loudspeakers becoming more frequent, and the silence you had kept to yourself was gradually replaced by the sounds of other travelers. But it felt strangely liberating, like you had finally laid the burden aside.

You had continued your lives separately, but here you had begun to realize that your past would always remain a part of you. And maybe, just maybe, you could find a new path - a path that didn't have to lead in the same direction, but maybe next to each other again.

When the flight was finally called, you stood up together, side by side, and Emily reached for your hand, squeezing it lightly. "Maybe we can see this delayed flight home as a sign," she said with a gentle smile.

You smiled back, feeling light for the first time in years. "Maybe," you answered, exhausted. "Maybe it's time to do things differently this time."

She nodded, knowing that nothing would ever be the same again and that she would do everything she could to prevent you from going your separate ways again. Maybe you could build a new future - different from the one you had once lost.

And so you walked to the gate together, your steps in unison, your arm hooked under hers, and although the future was uncertain, you knew that you had finally faced the past.

[cxrrodedcoffin]

Is It Casual Now? (Part 1) - Jennifer Jareau

Likes are always appreciated but reblogs and feedback keep artists going!

Summary: Reader overhears a conversation between JJ and Morgan and wonders what she is to JJ.

Word Count: 1.5k

A/N: I’ve been listening to Casual by Chappell Roan too much lately and this is what happens when I do that. This is an AU where JJ and and Will are divorced, no cheating occurs.

TW: established relationship, angst, fem reader, typical cm case description, proposal

Rating: PG

——

“Yeah it’s nothing serious, we’re just keeping things casual.” It slipped so easily off her tongue, like there were never truer words said.

“I think I might be rubbing off on you JJ.” Morgan shot her an approving smirk.

Static filled your ears, completely muffling whatever crossword hint Spencer had been going on about.

“Sorry, I’ll be right back.” You mumbled, standing from your desk and walking quickly to the bathroom as you fought back tears. You know she wanted to keep things between the two of you quiet but you still couldn’t believe what you had just heard.

The door shut loudly behind you and the dam broke, tears rolling down your red cheeks.

You held your face in your hands for a moment, drawing deep breaths in an attempt to calm yourself down, but the mix of anger and sadness grew into a pit in your stomach.

After a few minutes you pulled yourself together, wiping your tears before looking in the mirror, bloodshot eyes staring back.

How could she say something like that? You knew when you started this that Jennifer wasn’t the most open to commitment, and you was okay with that in the beginning, but month after month she invited you deeper and deeper into her life. You know things that she’s never told anyone else, she built that trust between you without you asking for it.

You did what you could to touch up your makeup before returning to the bullpen, just as Garcia called the team in to brief you on the new case. You trailed behind the group, nervously straightening your skirt to distract yourself until JJ took her seat. You took one on the opposite side of the table, across from your usual spot next to her. She glanced at you, her puzzled look turning to one of concern when she presumably noticed the redness around your eyes. You broke eye contact, turning to face Penelope as she started introducing the details of the case. Truthfully you hadn’t been able to pay too much attention, you caught something about a double homicide, unsub targeting unmarried couples, staging their bodies as if in an embrace. It all felt a little too on the nose.

“Wheels up in 30.” Hotch repeated his usual mantra, dismissing the group to get ready for our flight.

You walked quickly out of the room, focusing on not tripping in your heels while hoping to avoid having to discuss anything with JJ right now. Her hand met your shoulder and you knew your escape plan had failed.

“What is up with you?” She asked, just above a whisper. You could hear the stress in her voice but you were having a hard time cutting her slack right now.

“Nothing, I’m fine.”

“Y/N, I know you, what’s wrong?” She grew slightly more agitated, eyes scanning yours. She could read you like a book, but you were not going to discuss this here.

“I’ll tell you when we land.” You were short with her, abruptly turning to break from her grasp, leaving to grab your go bag out of your car.

20 minutes later the team boarded the jet, and you took a seat at the table with Emily and Derek.

“Listen sugar, you know I like to see your pretty face anytime I can, but I have to know, what is going on between you and J?” Morgan joked, getting straight to his point.

“Nothing, we’re good.” You tried to lie, but with a team full of profilers, that’s not exactly easy.

“Really? The two of you are usually attached at the hip.” Emily added, her and Morgan exchanging a glance.

“Yeah, I just wanted a change of pace.” You smiled at the two of them reassuringly, pulling out the book you were reading before settling further into my seat and losing yourself in the pages.

When we landed you felt yourself shift into autopilot, going through the motions of setting up at the local precinct and pairing up with Prentiss to interview the witnesses and family members.

When the day was through the team headed to the hotel, Hotch handing out the room assignments. You knew this was coming, JJ and you always roomed together even before you started seeing each other, you were best friends before all of this and it was just routine at this point. You unlocked the door to the room, dropping your bag on the dresser and hurrying to undress and get in the shower as quickly as possible, partially to wash the grime of the day off, and partially to avoid JJ who you knew was only a couple minutes behind you.

As the warm water rushed over your skin you heard the door open and shut, followed by her footsteps nearing the bathroom door. Knock knock.

“You can’t avoid me forever.” Her voice rang from the other side of the door. You ignored her, taking your time scrubbing yourself down before rinsing off and wrapping a towel around your frame. You braced yourself for a moment before finally exiting the bathroom. Your footsteps stopped right outside the door, leaving ample space between the two of you. JJ sat on the edge of her bed, sending a text before tossing the phone onto the nightstand beside her.

“You said you’d tell me what was wrong when we landed, you’ve avoided me the whole day. Please tell me what is going on.” She seemed genuinely concerned, that gloss over her eyes that only appeared when she was on the verge of tears starting to form. Seeing her like that had you choked up before you could even open your mouth. You thought you wanted to give her a taste of her own medicine, but now you were regretting that more than ever. You never wanted to hurt her, even if the uncertainty was killing you.

“I can’t do this anymore.” You blurted out, the words catching in your throat as tears threatened your waterline.

“What do you mean?” She questioned, panic in her voice.

“I know we agreed to keep things casual but I can’t do it anymore, I’m in love with you.” Your voice cracked, a tear slipping down your cheek as your hands anxiously gripped at the edge of the towel wrapped around you.

“Babe, where is this coming from?” Your confession caught her off guard but not for the reasons you thought.

“The conversation you had with Derek this morning, you told him what we have was just casual.” You choked out, your body practically vibrating with emotion.

“That’s what this is about? You have to know I wasn’t serious, I was just trying to stop Morgan from prying any further.” She stood, taking quick steps to close the space between you two.

“I didn’t know if you’d want the rest of the team to know about us, I didn’t even know if you’d want there to be an official ‘us’ considering how this started, this is my fault.” Her tone grew more frantic, you rarely saw her this panicked.

“Stop.” Your voice was still shaky but you tried to be as firm as possible to snap her out of it. It worked, her expression going blank as she waited for you to speak.

“I need to know if you’re serious.” You finally calmed yourself, the rational part of your brain taking over.

“I am, I promise. This whole time I thought I’d never be able to commit to one person, but you have changed everything I thought I knew about myself. I love you.” She slowly wrapped her arms around your waist, pulling you flush against her.

“I want to spend the rest of my life with you.” Her tone was soft, almost breathy as she brought her face closer to yours, your lips almost brushing.

Your heart felt like it was about to burst out of your chest, you’d waited years to hear her say those words whether you were conscious of it or not, and now that it was happening you felt love-drunk.

“Marry Me.” You whispered, almost too afraid to say it.

“You mean it?” She asked, searching your eyes for any hint of doubt.

“Yes.” You were never more sure of anything you’d ever said in your life.

“Of course I will.” Her lips crashed into yours in a blur of passion and pain and years of built up tension finally being released. You could hardly breathe, having to remind yourself to do so in the heat of the moment.

——

Part 2 can be found here

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