#subway boss emily

[madd-nix]

Transwomen Submas! 🏳️‍⚧️🖤🤍🏳️‍⚧️

Subway Bosses Emily and Isabelle (nickname is Izzy)

It actually started with me just wanting to explore Ingo as a trans woman cuz @hoofpeet has drawn transfem Emmet, so I had to complete the set! Then I wanted to pair her with Johanna of course cuz I love that ship. So, there they are at some formal event cuz I wanted them in pretty dresses and then kissing, cuz I love the trope of grabbing someone by the tie (especially if the tie-wearer is taller) and kissing them! It's cute and gay!

(Also, this should go without saying, but terfs and transphobes can get the fuck out. You're not welcome here.)

[keksflunsch]

Friend and I were doing genderbend versions of our oc's and we wondered what ingo and emmet (ingrid and emily) would look like in that one hehe.

So I sketched my own version of them.

Of course they gotta keep that little hair tip in this one too. With

[r0-boat]

Submas Oc Ingo and Emmet's mother

Emily Juno 

Gender: cis Female

Height: 5,6 

Age: 

 18-19 ( start of her Pokemon journey (formally)

22-24( as a mother (formally)

48+( currently)

Background: 

 she's Drayden's younger sister, on her 19th birthday, she snuck out of the house with her Pokemon to continue her own Journey. after leaving that house her parents were livid, cutting contact with her ultimately.

In her younger years, Drayden was the apple of Mom and Dad's eye; despite their favoritism, Drayden always doted on and protected his little sister as much as he could. 

unlike Drayden her parents were extremely hard on her, all she did was take music lessons and studied . Her parents wanted to molt her into an academic exceller. Even putting hundreds of thousands of dollars into her debit account only for college, to study in politics like her brother.

Because of this she has insecurities about herself

Excellent Pokemon care on care rything to the last vitamin; Pokemon should have to grow strong and healthy. Her specialty is dragon types.

Like her older brother, she is very skilled at Pokemon battles. 

Dislikes: ice types, the cold ,seafood, studying,

Likes:  Drayden, dragons, traveling, jewelry, sweets, battling, cooking, working out, reading

characteristics/ personality :

Emily has long white hair into a ponytail, her eyes are a yellow with a fit curvy frame. her clothing is similar to drayden's 

Despite any hardship, Emily always has a smile on her She can be very optimistic even in the most dire of situations. She has grace, elegance, and politeness, yet she is daring, Headstrong and can be very rash; if it isn't a Pokemon battle, she often rushes into situations without thinking.

She's extremely energetic and expressive, whether it be with her hands or her voice. And gets excited easily.

She is very gentle and sweet; even when she's mad, she has an early sweet smile on her face which arguably makes her more terrifying; she loves her children more than anything and only wants what's best for them. If it means of protecting her family she'll go full Mama dragon. The motherly instincts are strong with this one

Extra:

Her memory is either absolute dog shit or photographic there is no in between.

Her partner is a Shiny Haxorus name Axel

When she was a teenager she used to work out regularly with her brother.

Small woman but extremely strong

Probably was the start of Emmet's joltik infatuation after she let him keep his first Pokemon. (After a hiking trip a joltik was stuck to Emmet's back.)

Now she works as a "gym" teacher at a pokemon Institution/battle instructor. Sometimes she

subs for Drayden when he's either too sick or to swamped with other work.

Can't grow plants kills cactuses( overthinks and ends up watering them too much or too little)

Adores all kinds of Dragon type Pokemon but has an unique infatuation for Larvesta and Volcarona.

"There is no such thing as a weak Pokemon, every Pokemon has hidden strengths, and every one of them has its way of shining."

Drayden was a good brother he loved his sister and he adores his nephews

[hotchtits]

go on bby. talk about hotch. as much as you want ill read it all

*kisses you on the mouth sloppy style*

How I feel about this character

AAARGSHHSIDK AA AAAJDJEJ AHHHDJSJSJ

uh i mean he’s cool i guess.

no all jokes aside there are very few characters that are doing it like him.

he’s the leader of one of the most elite teams in the FBI. he’s a wet cat. he’s the epitome of traditional heterosexuality. he’s a boy kisser. he’s cold and distant. he loves his team more than anything in the world. he’s the next best profiler after gideon. he’s a massive idiot and a dork who collects coins. he’s got the skill level of a sniper/marksman. he does most of his team's paperwork so they can focus in the field. he’s no nonsense and straight laced. he seriously considered using web shooters at the FBI. he frequently catches an attitude with his boss, bigoted cops, and generally people in higher positions of power than him (and they just kind of take it). he has enough connections to get the italian government to revoke diplomatic immunity of a vatican priest. he's on a first name basis with the attorney general. he's kind of (at first) an absent father. he's a single mother of 6. he killed a man with his bare hands. he's so unbelievably gentle. he’s a white guy in a basic ass suit. he serves unprecedented levels of cunt.

what i keep coming back to is how much he cares. he cares about victims, he cares about unsubs (the ones that had justifiable reasons for being the way they are), more than anything he cares about his team.

the lengths he goes to to protect them or even just let them know he's there for them. he doesn't raise his voice, even when he's furious and when they lash out at him, he just absorbs it. aaaaaaugh. even roy, who hates his guts, he still cares about and still tries to make nice with for the sake of his son still having a grandparent in his life.

long story short i love aaron hotchner for all of his fucked up ways, big wet eyes, and self sacrificing demeanor.

All the people I ship romantically with this character

am i insane for saying the whole team? poly bau has a special place in my heart. i think he should get to have several boyfriends and several girlfriends. and his boyfriends are boyfriends and his girlfriends are girlfriends and they're all just happy.

hotch x happiness thats actually my favorite ship.

i mainly go for hotchgan, though, they make me want to rip my hair out. their push and pull, their similarities, hotch's head vs morgan's heart. kill me please.

i feel like him and rossi couldve also had a thing back in the preshow days. they give The Subway by chappell roan when he comes back in season three there is nothing casual about them.

hotchley before the divorce was so sweet :( i have such mixed feelings though because i can see how both of them would be frustrated with the other.

john blackwolf gets to be here as a treat because i think they would be absolutely destroy a buddy cop comedy thats actually a slowburn enemies to lovers. im aware this is just the plot of The Tribe.

My non-romantic OTP for this character

jessica brooks. im being so serious she stepped up in a way that very few others did. her offering to look after jack after hailey dies, staying with him when hotch gets called away, defending him against roy. also their banter is wonderful they r sooo siblings to me.

him and garcia are a very close second. obviously her and morgan are It but we gotta start putting some respect on him and garcia because

“i know you see the best in people, and i’d never want you to change that”

and the way she stayed with him when he collapsed in s9 aaarggh.

also hotchniss but as a wlw/bisexual friendship. they both agree that hotch has awful taste in men and that emily is a useless lesbian.

My unpopular opinion about this character

i mentioned this in someone else’s ask about unpopular HCs but i dont think he’s this #daddydom character in bed that people write him as. (disclaimer, headcanons are headcanons and im not bashing them, this is just what i think)

i can see him being dominant in bed (tho im a sub!hotch truther) but i dont think he’d go in for sadism or degrading or anything like that. given his childhood abuse, i cant imagine he’d enjoy hitting his partner or making them cry (even if it is consensual). in the show, he's very overtly gentle, especially with the people he loves.

i also dont think he’d enjoy a big age gap relationship with a subordinate either (i also see this being floated around). my man is a stickler for the rules and if theres a fraternization policy, i doubt he’d break it. im aware i sound like a massive hypocrite bc i ship him w the team but im mainly talking about x reader pairings here.

i was actually gonna put a different headcanon here but i saw a stepdad!hotch x reader fic and i,,, just,,, no. again write whatever you want but he Would Not Fucking Do That lmao.

One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon.

PISSED BEYOND BELIEF WE NEVER GOT AN “AARON” EPISODE

i guess 100 was kind of in the same vein but Reid got both “Revelations” and “Spencer” so i think we deserved an “Aaron”

for the love of god expand on his backstory. he was sent off to boarding school, he was a lawyer, a federal prosecutor, he was on SWAT, he's an accomplished sniper, he was with the BAU for something like 8 years before the show started i think. where is he finding the time for this?

[h4tchner]

Aaron Hotchner x GN!reader: busy subway

Aaron Hotchner x gn!reader

Summary: you and hotch get on a full subway. Aaron gets a little too excited about you being pressed up against him

You boarded the underground with the rest of the team. It was incredibly busy, so everyone had to be squished in. This, however, was an excuse to stand really close to Aaron, which you couldn't do often in the presence of the rest of the team. Even at home you two were careful, since Jack didn't know something was going on between you and his dad.

You took another step back, your back bumping against his chest. "Sorry," you murmured under your breath. His fingers brushed against yours for just a moment. You took this as a sign to move even closer to him, now pressing fully against him. Your heart was racing at the intimacy in such a public space, surrounded by your colleagues who had no idea about your relationship.

"Sorry," he said then, but you had no idea why he said it at first. Then you realized there was something pressing against your lower back, something that wasn't so prominent a few moments before. You felt your cheeks heating up. Your hand felt around, looking for his hand. When you found it, you took it, pressing your fingers through his. You looked around to see if anyone saw what was going on. At first no one was paying attention to you or Hotch. They were talking amongst each other, but as soon as Emily's eyes went towards you and Aaron, he pulled his hand away.

"Are you okay?" Emily asked you. "Do you have enough breathing room?"

"I'm fine," you said, but it didn't sound convincing since you were already out of breath.

"Don't worry, it won't be much longer."

You gave her a smile, while you were kind of disappointed at the thought of not being pressed up against your boss again.

[i-am-3mm3t]

Pelipper Mail for Emily!

It's an envelope containing a Battle Subway post card - one of the ones with the Multi Train on it. Inside is a doodle of a joltik with "you can do it!" on the left side. It's done with a black ballpoint pen and bright yellow highlighter.

The right side has a photo taped to it. The quality is dubious, at best, probably taken with a phone, and printed on normal paper. It's of the break room at the Battle Subway. There's a few depot agents watching on as Emmet - without his coat at the moment, but wearing the hat - gestures widely. Past his flailing arm is Ingo, with a beard and also without a coat but with his hat, looking quietly amused. For Ingo, anyway.

There's another piece of paper in the envelope. "I... Couldn't think of anything else? Sorry if this is too weird or something. I didn't take this photo, it's from Gym Leader Elesa's socials. Taken a couple days after Boss Ingo came back -Miyo"

Oh. Not what I expected. But... appreciated. It's nice to see him smiling again. I have to succeed.

[kawaiilovedreamer]

Miraculous ladybug and pokemon characters crossover collage.

[apoemaday]

More of This, Please

by Emily Senaker

In grad school I had a writing teacher who’d completely cream my essays. Cross-outs and tracked changes. He took me at my word When I said I wanted to get better. But when he liked something, he’d point to what was working: More of this, please. Did I mention he was British? This is important because lately, whenever something is really working, I tend to think to myself, in a British accent: More of this, please. A lunch date turned dinner date with a dreamboat who is slightly embarrassed his eyes water in cold weather. Him looking like he’s tearing up at Shake Shack. More of this, please. A toddler turning to me at the park holding her hair tie, asking me to fix her ponytail. Her grandmother nodding to go right ahead, my hands collecting wisps of yellow. More of this, please. Any time my family is honest about mental health, what my grandparents were up against. This. Cough-drop wrappers that say, Bet on yourself. Pop-up concerts in the city. Stevie Wonder playing Songs in the Key of Life at 10am on a Monday, hundreds of people stopping midcommute in button-ups and blazers belting out every word to “Sir Duke” and “Isn’t She Lovely,” saying, “My boss is just going to have to understand!” The subway tiles under Carnegie Hall with names of performers who played there: Lena Horne, September 29, 1947. The Beatles, February 12, 1964. Dance classes with live drummers. An editor saying, “I’ll pass this on,” instead of, “I’ll pass on this.” A stranger falling asleep on my shoulder for several stops. Staring at dates in authors’ bios: Ruth Stone, 1915-2011. Larry Levis, 1946-1996. Recommitting to living as much as I can. Realizing the dash between the year you’re born and the year you die is smaller than your smallest fingernail. It’s smaller than a strand of saffron in a bottle the size of a thimble in a spice shop across the street.

[rcksmith]

Spring breeze — Spencer Reid

Sumarry: Spencer never thought about falling in love with someone, but he certainly didn't expect that he would fall in love with Gideon's daughter. — season 3 —

Part.2 Part.3 Part.4

A/N: I am marathoning Criminal Minds again and I can not express how much I loved the interaction of Gideon and Spencer!! So this idea came as an epiphany, and I love the conception of love at first sight. Maybe this becomes a serie...

English is not my first language, so I so sorry if have a mistake.

Requests are open. Love you ❤️

Couple:Spencer Reid/Gideon's daughter!reader.

Warnings: nothing, just very fluff.

— — — — —

Something was different. Maybe it was the way the sun's rays cascaded down in an atypical way, maybe it was the breeze that carried a more lyrical intonation on its back, or maybe it was just the Earth that was adorned by an ethereal veil. Spencer didn't know how to point out what was really different, but he felt in his soul that something in the hemisphere had changed.

At first, when he took the subway to work, Spencer thought it was just an ephemeral sensation, just like those seconds when you feel the breath of the breeze more cold. But it didn't. The sensation accompanied him to work, to the plane, to the case, it stuck to him like a tattoo and Reid found himself looking around for answers that did not exist physically.

He considered all the theories that were possible to explain that destabilization in his subtly balanced world. But he found none.

“Are you feeling anything different today?” That's what he asked Morgan.

Derek shrugged, finishing packing up at the police station so they could go back to Quantico.

“No.” Then he looked Reid whit his obsidian eyes “Is something bothering you? Is the Genie feeling any peturbation in the Force? ”

Spencer chuckled through his nose at the Star Wars joke, but just shook his head in a 'No'. And the conversation died there. How could he explain something that even he didn't understand?

Trying to ignore the way his heart was beating fast, for no reason, in anticipation of something Spencer himself was unaware of, he wondered how long he was going to have that sensation. The feeling of euphoria, the taste of something, there was something exciting in the air, almost angelic.

But how long was that going to accompany him? One day? One week? Whole life? For the first time, Spencer didn't have the answer. And that was disconcerting.

When BAU's glass doors opened for agents to settle on their desks and Hotch and Gideon go to their respective offeces, a wave of icy breeze from the DC air reverberated through the enclosure. Spencer can see that Morgan shrugged in the wind, Emily looke for a coat in the black suitcase, but his own body didn't seem to be hit by the same breeze. For Reid, it had been a caustic, lyrical, almost spring, wave that carried the promise of something extraordinary on back. Almost divine.

In that split second, in a time as short as a blink, the feeling that his life would never be the same made him losing his breath. Spencer does not know what attracted his gaze to the BAU door, nor what made his whole body turn in that direction, like a magnet, like a wanderer in the desert who finds his Oasis. But he had been attracted, and as soon as a female hand pushed through the glass door and her figure came into view, Spencer understood the extraordinary thing that him heart was beating for in anticipation.

You.

It was as if the universe had been preparing him all day for that moment. As if the body itself tried to prepare it. Because if Spencer hadn't fell those feelings of euphoria all day, he would have drowned in his own reactions to seeing you.

In a burst, like a violin string popping, Reid understood what was different about the hemisphere, because why the air was ethereal, because why the night felt like poetry, and why the moon whispered swears of love. In that moment, Spencer understood the mysteries of the world, unraveled the riddles of life, drank from the wisdom of The Oracle of ancient Greece. In an instant, watching you enter, Spencer understood the reason for his life.

In an instant.

The world shuddered in slow motion, capturing all your movements, all your graceful gait, all your glory. An elegant black dress with thin straps modeled your body in an arcane, almost divine way, your legs were supported on black high heels, making your walk seem like a glide of honey.

You were not beautiful. You are gorgeous. You shone. Sparkled.

And, like an atrocious wave that broke over Reid and pulled him into the sea, that whole feeling that stuck with him all day came to accompany the female figure. Following in your footsteps like the tail of a long dress.

Spencer was sure that his life would never be the same.

They hadn't even sat at their tables when you showed up. Like the muse that came out of an action movie. And when you got close enough to attract the attention of Emily and Morgan, whose Derek opened his mouth when he noticed the female figure that was the personification of Female Fatal, Spencer felt himself letting out the breath he didn't even know he was holding. He knew that anyone with eyes and a little common sense would notice how overwhelmingly beautiful you were, so when Morgan turned his body fully towards you, Reid was not surprised.

“Hi." Your voice, to Reid, had a floral intonation “Do you guys know where I can find Jason?”

When his eyes met yours, Spencer felt his breath being stolen from him once again. Usually, girls like you didn't look twice at guys like him, Spencer knew that. Girls like you liked men like Morgan. Athletes, strong, Alpha Male. And because of that, it was an explosion in Reid's system when you took a few seconds longer in that eye contact and a delightful smile appeared on yours lips. As if you appreciate what you were seeing.

That was a shock. Was it true or was he misinterpreting the signs? Was him mind playing tricks on him, like the flickering shadows of furniture under the darkness and the flame of a candle? Spencer would not be able to say a word without stuttering at that moment even that him life depended on it. In fact, he was already starting to feel cheeks heating up. So he thanked any deities that might exist when Morgan and Emily responded to you and broke the eye contact between the two of you.

“Jason Gideon?” Morgan frowned slightly.

“He's in the office but...” But Emily couldn't finish the sentence before Gideon's voice came out over everyone's:

“Y/n?” It was in a tone that no one there had ever heard in Gideon. A sweet, loving intonation... paternal.

None of the three agents present there had time to express their thoughts in facial expressions before you said:

“Dad!”

Then the whole world took a turn and seemed to be terrified, making them feel as if they had been thrown out of the tenth-floor window. This time, Reid's eyes widened at the two friends, who also had puzzled expressions. Everyone knew that Gideon had a past, probably with divorces and children, a life he had left behind, but no one expected...that.

Perhaps Gideon's vision of a family was something that was only in the imagination, never something tangible. Until that moment. Until the most beautiful girl Reid had ever seen was the daughter of one of the men he respected most. Until him heart soared at alarming levels for him boss's daughter. Spencer had been in trouble before when it came to matters of the heart, but the trouble gained a position in the top 3.

“What are you doing here?” A rare smile appeared on Gideon's face, his brow slightly furrowed.

“We were going to dinner today, remember? In that new Japanese restaurant.” Your tone of voice was not resentful or hurt by the situation that was explicit there.

The life of a BAU agent take many things, some with a more atrocious force than others, and one of them was the availability of hours. commitments that count on presence.

“I totally forgot, I'm sorry.” Gideon's voice was always calm and controlled, he managed to speak from the most tender emotions to the most heinous crimes with a peaceful intonation. But to perceive traces of parental love was new. “The case was very complicated, my cell phone died and...”

“It's okay, Dad.” You smiled, making a casual gesture with your hand “I thought this happened, but I thinking it best to come here to see if everything was okay instead of waiting until tomorrow.”

Your smile, despite being the simple one, was the brightest for Spencer.

Gideon still had a fatherly look and a chaste and grateful smile when he turned to the other agents who were still puzzled.

“Y/n, these are agents Derek Morgan, Emily Prentiss and Dr. Spencer Reid.” Jason introduced them to you “Guys, this is my daughter, Y/n.”

“Is a pleasure.” You smiled genuinely at them.

“I had no idea that you had a daughter!” Emily gave a low, slightly bewildered laugh that also made you laugh.

“Everybody says that.” You looked at your father again, having fun.

“I'm just going to go over some reports with Hotcher before I leave.” Gideon kept a chaste smile. “Why don't you wait here and then let's go get something to eat?”

“Of course, no problem, Dad.” You agreed, adjusting the thin shoulder bag that was on your shoulder.

As Jason went up to Hotcher's office, you turned to the agents again, with a gentle smile on your face.

“My dad said great things about you.” Emily smiled at your statement.

"I'm still chocked ." She laughed, and Morgan added:

“ I really need to know...” he looked around, in a playful suspense “Is Gideon really that serious outside the FBI?”

You laughed “Oh no! Definitely not.”

So you reached for your phone in the litlle bag, hunting for a photo on it and showing it to the three agents. It was a recent photograph where you and Gideon had their faces painted in easy ink. You had a skeleton mouth made with white and black paint, and Jason had a pink glitter butterfly covering his left cheek. You two were laughing in the photo.

Morgan was the one who let out a loud, dripping laugh, with a few tears accumulating in the corners of his eyes.

“How is this possible?” Morgan was trying to catch the air.

“It was at the last Halloween, he and I bet that whoever lost in the snooker that day would have to paint a butterfly on their face.” You laughed.

“And did he lose?” Spencer found a voice for it, his mind failing to process the image of Gideon losing any game.

“I have my suspicions that he let me win” You joked “But I enjoyed the victory just the same.”

The conversation was light after that, Spencer refrained from much of the dialogue, a little fearful that you could hear him heart beating loudly whenever you smile in his direction. As the minutes passed, Derek and Emily had to go back to their duties and finish their reports, while you were sitting in one of the chairs at an empty table.

It was one of those moments when Reid tried to focus on the files in front of him to exorcise what was going on around him. Paperwork had always brought the lull needed to make Spencer meditate. It was almost like relaxation. But in moments like this, when something in the environment around him pulled his attention so much, he stayed on the same page for long minutes.

That must be why he didn't hear the wheels on your chair approach, and he didn't even notice that you were so close until you said:

“Are you really a doctor?” Your voice was low, soft, as if you didn't want to disturb the other agents who were working.

Spencer turned his head towards you, only to find the modern personification of what would be the Athena de Troia. You were close, not close enough to touch, but close enough that he could smell your perfume. You smelled like the night, the excitement of nights and the brightness of the stars. And if Spencer looked deeper into yours eyes, he would sure they contained shine moonlight.

He swallowed, the mania for blinking compulsively returning a little.

“A-ahm yes. Not really a doctor, but m-my 3 Phd’s make me a doctor.”

He might be mistaken, but the smile that spread across your face was not just friendly, it wasn't curious, it was… delighted. As if the roles were reversed and he was the most fascinating thing in that room, not you.

The glow that was adorned in yours eyes had something lyrical, ethereal, wonderful. As if the brightness of all the galaxies were inhabiting your irises, moving in your orbit. At that moment, Spencer was deeply grateful to have eidetic memory, because 10 years from now he could still remember how you looked like a muse over there. DC night came in through the big glass windows, and if Reid had to describe that moment with the five senses, he would say that the world had turned the light down to a rose tone, the smell was heaven and your smile promised to contain wonders of the world.

Holy Mother of God, you are so, so beautiful!

“My dad said there was a genius on the team.” You said, your attention on him is always tender, adoreble. “Do you mind if I ask you something?”

Your perfume invaded him sense of smell once again, and he felt his heart beat faster once more. Spencer would have told you all the secrets in the world if you asked. He would have told all own secrets.

“No way.” He sat back in his chair to look at you better, oblivious to the exchange of looks that Emily and Morgan gave.

You rested your arms on Spencer's table, the chair next to his.

“You never thought of being like... the wizard Doctor Strange?” You hoped that Spencer knew Marvel “Before he was a magician, of course. But why didn't you want to be a surgeon or something?” You laughed “There is a phrase him says: I have a photographic memory and this is what made me ..."

“ ‘Get my diploma and doctorate at the same time’ " Spencer completed you, laughing softly “I know the HQs. Did you know that the Doctor Strange character was created during the Silver Age of American comics to bring a different type of character and mystical themes to Marvel Comics? It him has an intellectual coefficient close to 177 points and I have… ”

The more he rambled, the more a stunning smile spread across your face. As if you were enchanted with him. And you were. Everyone was noticing the way Spencer seemed to have you curled up on his finger, your eyes sparkling and a silly smile twinkling on your face, paying attention to every word he said. It was an overwhelmingly lovely sight to behold.

But just as everything had a time, an hourglass, your time had reached the last grain of sand.

“All right, Y/n.” Gideon went down the stairs, cutting the end of Reid's sentence “Ready?”

You stood up, agreeing with your father and smoothing the dress. When you put your hands on the chair, ready to take it back to place, you turned to Spencer once again:

“I'm going to bring my dad to BAU tomorrow, do you think me and you can meting and you give me the answer to the question tomorrow?” Your smile was able to light up the whole of Washington.

“S-sure!” Spencer's voice went up more high notes than he would like to admit.

And, even when you left, even when Morgan and Emily jokes him about it, and even when he finally lay down on his own bed, you were still the only thing that occupied Spencer's mind.

[prentissinred]

Life in Pink

Rated T (mild suggestive content) Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Emily Prentiss Word Count: 2.5k AO3

Hi friends! Guess what? This past weekend marked one year since I posted my first story! How crazy is that?!

I’m so utterly grateful to this community for being such a bright spot in a difficult year. To everyone who’s taken the time to read something I’ve written, thank you for being so kind and supportive. It means more to me than I can express in words. To the brilliant, lovely, talented people I now get to call my friends, I love you all so very much.

To commemorate the occasion, I wrote a little something. This is set in the world of The Wonder of You, which was the first story I’ve ever written – but you don't need to have read that to understand this :)

I hope you like it <3

--

“I mean it, JJ. Whatever happens, do not call us.”

“Yes, Emily. For the hundredth time, I promise not to call you.”

Aaron slipped his free hand into his wife’s and squeezed. “Sweetheart, it’ll be fine. Strauss knows we’re away, and our backlog is miraculously clear. We’ll be okay.”

He returned to packing up his things on his desk while Emily huffed and quietly muttered something unflattering about their superior under her breath. JJ chuckled and embraced her friend. “Go. Have a fabulous time and make us all incredibly jealous. We’ll see you in a week.”

After another round of goodbyes and poorly-veiled suggestive comments from Morgan and Dave, Aaron and Emily were in their car and on their way to Dulles, suitcases already packed and in the trunk.

It had been her idea. A holiday in Greece to commemorate their first wedding anniversary. There hadn’t been time to plan a honeymoon, their wedding in Dave’s backyard coming together with relative expediency. They had spent the weekend after the ceremony in a hotel, indulging in champagne and room service for 48 hours before returning to work the following Monday.

Neither of them thought much of it after that, swept up in both work and newlywed life. They moved into a new home, a classic Colonial in Arlington with extra bedrooms and a white wrap-around porch, and adopted a dog at Jack’s insistence.

And before either of them had realized it, it had been a year. Aaron had remembered the upcoming date over Saturday breakfast as he cut bacon into little pieces for Jack, which were then promptly fed to Boo who waited patiently under the table next to Jack’s chair. Emily and Aaron shared a look of bemused surprise as they came to the realization that neither of them had planned anything to celebrate the occasion.

“We could take a trip,” Emily suggested casually. “We haven’t been away before, just the two of us.”

He’d been doubtful at first, unsure if they could really manage to get the time away with such short notice. But it was clear how enthused Emily was by the prospect, though she hid it well under masked nonchalance. Though she always insisted she was more than happy to spend her time at home, appreciative of the roots they had cultivated after all the travel and displacement of her past, Aaron knew there was still a part of her that missed that heady thrill of exploring an unfamiliar place for the first time. And truthfully, he could think of little else that he would enjoy more than having his wife all to himself for a few days.

So they settled on Greece, a place new to them both, and, with some luck, managed to clear a full week on both of their calendars.

They had nearly reached the parking lot at Dulles — having already checked in with Jessica, Jack and Boo over the phone — when Emily’s phone pinged with a text message from JJ, “I’m so sorry.”

“Shit,” she muttered under her breath.

Before Aaron could question her, his phone rang, Chief Strauss’s number on the front screen. Panic flashed across both their faces before he reluctantly answered. Emily could hear brief snippets of the conversation as the pit in her stomach steadily widened.

“...apologize...New York...fourth suicide bomber in three weeks...escalating...need everyone…”

Once he hung up the phone, Aaron took the next exit off the highway, pulling up to the curb once it was safe to do so. They both sat in silence for an extended minute, disappointment heavy in the air. Finally, Emily attempted to break the tension, “Aren’t you glad I convinced you to get the refundable tickets?”

Aaron let out a weak, sad chuckle and leaned over the center console to kiss her, “I’ll make it up to you, I promise,” before starting the car up again to head to the airstrip.

When they walked onto the plane, the team was uncharacteristically silent, looking on at their boss and colleague with poorly concealed apology, as though they were personally at fault for this unfortunate turn of events.

It took five days for the case to come to an end, the team finding the next bomber with minutes to spare, leading them to the ringleader of the group orchestrating the attacks. The date of their anniversary came and went, with nothing to mark the day except a quickie in the shower before they left their shared room. Objectively, both Aaron and Emily knew they had made the right decision, compulsory or not. Lives were saved, and the team functioned at their best when they were a complete set.

Still, while Aaron wrapped things up at the precinct after sending Emily back to the hotel, he couldn’t help but feel sorry that the first year of his marriage had passed in such a benign manner. As he drove back to the hotel, watching people shuffle and hustle about their weekend, an inkling of a plan formed and he picked up the phone to call JJ.

He found Emily in their room, her back turned to him as she hunched over the bed in the final stages of packing. He leaned against the wall, taking a moment to admire her before asking, "What are you doing, sweetheart?"

She jumped a little, the close of the door too quiet for her to hear him walk in, then raised a brow at him. "Packing? Don't we have to be at the airport in an hour?"

"Change of plans." Aaron sauntered up to his wife, pulling her in by the waist so he could kiss her. "We're leaving tomorrow."

“Since when?”

"Since I decided that you and I deserve a night to ourselves." He chuckled softly at her confused expression, tucking an errant strand of hair behind her ears. "I'm sorry we couldn't get our time away. I thought we could spend the night out here instead. Celebrate the best year of my life with my beautiful wife."

She softened in his arms, molding herself to him as she pushed up on her toes and threaded her hands in his hair, kissing him breathless. “What about everyone else?” she asked, mouthing along his jaw, nosing the length of his neck.

The blood promptly rushed south from his head, a familiar occurrence anytime Emily’s hands ran over him as they were doing now. He swallowed, breathing in deeply to ensure he retained some semblance of control. "I told them to leave tonight; we could fly on our own tomorrow. But they offered to stay the night.”

She laughed against his throat, hot and ticklish on his skin, feeling almost giddy by this unforeseen development, “Okay then.” The hands on her hips tightened as she began kissing down to his chest, and she grinned up at him, lightly palming the front of his black slacks. “Are you sure you want to go out? We could just lock ourselves in here for the night.”

He narrowed his eyes, playfully pinching her cheek, “Cheeky, Mrs. Hotchner. But I have a plan and, tempting as you are, you will not sway me from it.” Knowing her go-bag always contained a nicer dress in case their work called for it, he added, “Now, get dressed,” swatting her ass lightly for good measure.

“Aaron, it’s Saturday night in New York City. You realize we’re not getting in anywhere halfway decent,” Emily pointed out while she unbuttoned her blouse.

“Ye of little faith, my dear wife. I told you, I have a plan.” Aaron also rid himself of his jacket and tie, replacing his shirt with a fresh white button-down and rolling up the sleeves. He went to clean himself up in the bathroom, and when he returned, he found his magnificent wife attempting to zip up a one-shoulder red dress. The same dress he’d slid off her shoulders in his bedroom after dinner on their first date. “Is that…”

"Would you believe I didn't plan this?" she grinned, turning her back to him. "Help me?"

Instead of doing as she asked, Aaron nudged the zipper, skating a knuckle up the length of her bare back and planting a kiss at the top of her spine.

“Aaron..." she breathed, tilting her head back against his, "if you don't cut that out, we're not leaving this room." He groaned into her neck, reluctantly admitting she was right, finally zipping her up and smoothing her hair back over her shoulder.

When they emerged outside their hotel ten minutes later onto the bustling streets of Midtown Manhattan, they walked the few blocks to Grand Central Station, just barely catching the subway headed downtown. Despite her initial doubts, Emily’s smile hadn’t left her, cheeks flushed with excitement.

Aaron led her by hand out of the subway when they reached their destination, climbing the stairs onto the southwest corner of Washington Square Park. The air was hot and muggy, New York in August, even as the last rays of the sun dipped below the horizon. Music filtered through from the park, mixing with the din of the crowds enjoying the first stage of their evening.

“Do I get to know what we’re doing now?”

“Not yet. Come on, this way.”

They crossed the street, turned the corner, and Aaron finally stopped outside a red awning.

“Pizza?” Emily looked up at him, eyes wide with surprise as she took in the pizzeria.

“Or hot dogs, or Indian, or Greek, Italian, Vietnamese...We can go anywhere you want in the world in the next 10 blocks.”

She beamed up at him, catching onto his plan, and her grin was infectious. “Can we do them all?”

He laughed, “Lead the way.”

They started with pizza at Joe’s — a pepperoni slice for him and a Sicilian slice for her. Then a stuffed pita filled to the brim with fresh falafel, tomatoes, and hummus. A chicken tikka kati roll. And finally a shared plate of chicken and rice drizzled in white sauce from the halal food cart next to the park.

Their hands never strayed far from the other, the blissful anonymity of the city prompting more affectionate displays from both of them. Aaron stood behind her, hands on her hips or around her waist, as they waited in line. Emily ran her fingers through his hair as they sat on barstools, so smushed together from the crowd that she was practically sitting in his lap. They stood on the sidewalk waiting for their food to be prepared, their arms wrapped around each other and their lips moving together in languid kisses as if they had all the time in the world. To any stranger who could be bothered to look their way, they looked like any other couple smitten and blissfully in love, hiding every scar, hurdle, and hardship they had overcome to reach this point. Two figures floating amongst a sea of millions.

“I’m so full,” Emily moaned, clutching her stomach dramatically as they wandered hand-in-hand down Houston St. “I think you’ve killed me.”

“Not yet, sweetheart. We haven’t gotten to dessert.”

Two spoons and one cup of salted chocolate ice cream later, they made it back to the park, still lively as if the night had only just started. The marble archway was lit up, the Empire State Building in the distance peeking through the gap. People sat around the edge of the fountain, dipping their feet into the cool water.

Aaron and Emily walked through the students and artists and skateboarders and tourists, dipping intermittently into their shared dessert absorbing the infectious energy. They reached the other end of the park, stopping for a moment to watch a street performer, and turned down a new street, neither of them wanting the evening to come to an end.

The unmistakable sound of a piano floated out of a bar as two patrons exited, catching Emily by surprise as they walked past. She jerked to a stop, captivated, then tugged Aaron's hand to the door. He followed her lead, descending down a narrow flight of stairs that led into a darkened lounge. Tufted couches and armchairs in jewel-toned velvets lined the walls, dimly lit by rounded art deco sconces. Two bartenders seamlessly crafted elegant cocktails behind a lavish bar that took up the back wall. And in the center, a jazz quartet illuminated by a spotlight as couples swayed around them on a dance floor. Even in the dark, Aaron could see the way Emily's eyes lit up, entranced by this unexpected discovery, and he discreetly asked a waitress if they could be seated.

They nestled into the corner of an empty couch, Aaron's hand resting on Emily's knee as they both sipped their respective cocktails. Truthfully, he spent very little time watching the band, his eyes trained on his wife. He took in every secret smile, every small part of her lips when the melody soared to a peak. She was breathtaking, and she was his, and not for the first time in his life did he wonder how he had ever gotten quite so lucky.

The song shifted into something he recognized, a string of notes from the saxophone eliciting an audible gasp from Emily. He grasped her hand and tugged her up from the chair, smiling at the delight on her face. He pulled her in close, one hand low on her back, his cheek resting against hers, as they began to gently shift amongst the other couples.

After a minute, Emily’s voice came in whispers in his ear, her tongue curling beautifully over the French he couldn’t understand.

Quand il me prend dans ses bras Qu'il me parle tout bas Je vois la vie en rose

Il me dit des mots d'amour Des mots de tous les jours Et ça m'fait quelque chose

Il est entré dans mon cœur Une part de bonheur Dont je connais la cause C'est lui pour moi, moi pour lui dans la vie Il me l'a dit, l'a juré, pour la vie

She pulled back in his arms, her gaze locking on his. A droplet tipped over her lash and onto her cheek. Her love for the man who held her — her husband, hers — bubbled and popped and diffused in her chest, filling her until she felt like she was floating. Aaron brought his hand up from her waist to her cheek, his thumb wiping away the errant drop on her skin with enough tenderness and adoration to warrant a fresh bout of tears.

Emily shakily rose to press her lips to his, tightening her hold of him, just as the song trailed to its conclusion. Applause erupted, but at that moment, the world around them didn’t exist.

“I love you, Aaron Hotchner.”

“And I love you.”

--

Song: La Vie en Rose by Edith Piaf

Translation (thank you Google):

When he holds me in his arms He speaks to me softly I see life through rose-colored glasses

He speaks words of love to me Everyday words And that does something to me

He has entered into my heart A piece of happiness The cause of which I know It’s only him for me, and me for him, for life He said that to me, swore it forever

[madd-nix]

Trans icons Joshua the contest coordinator and Izzy the Subway Boss! 💚🏳️‍⚧️🖤

Joshua is trans masc Johanna and Izzy/Isabelle is trans femme Ingo. I was having some gender feelings so I thought I'd transfer some of those feelings into a drawing. I also wanted to redraw some of their fanciest outfits so they can be fancy together. (The anime really gave Johanna some cute looks for her contest coordinating!)

[spencers-renaissance]

Mayhem

Summary: Imagine that scene in S4E1 when Derek is driving the ambulance loaded with a bomb about to explode, except it's Spencer on the other end of the phone and they finally get their shit together. 

Tags: canon divergence, spencer is the tech analyst, death-bed love confessions, getting together, mutual pining, insecure spencer, angst with a happy ending, fluff

Pairing: Derek Morgan x Spencer Reid

Word Count: 4.2k

Masterlist // Read on AO3

A Gift For: @habs252117 — anybody can request fics in my ask box :)

A quick recap as this follows S4E1 which is technically a follow-on from the last ep of S3:

The BAU was called to the NY field office to investigate a series of random shootings in the city, often on subways and shit. They realise that this is actually a terror cell practicing for their big attack, and as this fic starts, they believe that the shootings were all in locations they planned to bomb in order to test 911 response times. Kate Joyner is Hotch's old friend, the blonde English one from Scotland Yard and Lisa is Lisa Bartleby, the NY field office tech analyst assigned to help Penelope in the show, Spencer in the fic.

The case had been stressful enough from the beginning. Spencer doesn’t often get to join the team in the field, usually staying in his computer den back in Quantico, so he’d initially been quite excited: he’d get to spend more time with Derek, plus visit New York, which he’s always had a strange sort of affinity for, as well as see his team in action. But then he’s working with equipment that isn’t his and they slowly piece together just how complicated this terrorism ring is and things seem more… bleak rather than exciting. 

They’d all been starting to make their way back to the hotel when the news of the bombing hit the networks, and Spencer’s heart is in his mouth as he rushes back to his post, meeting Lisa Bartleby with harried nods of acknowledgement. Almost as soon as he’s settled at his desk the phone starts ringing.

“Spencer,” Rossi greets as soon as he picks up, “you’ve seen the news?”

“Yes, I— do you know where anyone is? What should I do?” he asks, feeling the panic settle on his chest, his stomach clenching in fear he doesn’t dare try and address.

“I’m here with Penelope, she’ll handle the media,” Rossi says, and Spencer realises that he can hear her low, steady voice she always employs in moments of extreme stress in the background of the call. “I need you to call homeland security and direct them to every site of the recent shootings. Tell them to pour troops in. If our profile is right we’re looking at eight suicide bombers who are about to hit every one of those locations.”

“Actually, if we’re correct, there’ll be sixteen suicide bombers,” Spencer realises with a start. “We predicted they’ll hit the second wave of first responders, too.”

Their conversation is interrupted by the news reporting that the bomb was inside a black SUV near the Federal Plaza and Spencer is pretty sure his entire body stops for a moment: cells stop replicating, blood stops flowing, hair and nails stop growing. This is his family. And he doesn’t know where any of them are, spread across an unfamiliar, dangerous city.

“Right, Spencer, do you have eyes on the Plaza?” Rossi asks, controlled urgency colouring his voice as he tries to keep himself and everyone else as calm as possible.

“Uh— yes, I’ve got like three hundred cameras there,” he says, glancing at Lisa, the NY field office’s contribution to his technological complex, as they jump into action, “give me a minute.”

“I’m here with Penelope, but I don’t know where anyone else is,” Rossi says, and for the first time Spencer can hear the panic rising in his voice. It’s quickly suppressed, but it’s there, and it does nothing to help him calm down. “Find them.”

He instructs Lisa to find every camera feed 20 blocks out concentrically from 26 Federal Plaza before fiddling with his headset, taking a deep breath, and, naturally, trying Derek first. His name has been circling round Spencer’s head like a prayer ever since they heard that it was potentially one of their own hit by the bomb, and the knot in his chest starts to unravel when he picks up the phone.

“Yeah, I’m still here,” Derek says, sounding impatient and stressed, but Spencer doesn’t mind. He’s alive. He’s okay. 

“Thank God,” Spencer breathes. He keeps him on the line while he tries Emily, who sounds just as anxious when she picks up. He doesn’t mind though, he’s keeping a tally of everyone he knows is safe and it’s the only thing making him any less panicked. When JJ doesn’t pick up, the knot tightens a little and he tries to ignore the little string of ‘no no no’s dancing through his mind. 

He hears Emily’s distressed exhale and closes his eyes for a second before forcing himself to get his head back in the game. The phone goes dead mid-JJ’s voicemail message, and then Emily drops off the call, Derek following, and that’s it. He’s lost contact with his team, JJ and Hotch still unaccounted for. Before he can actually lose his head, Lisa is calling him over, and he finally has eyes on the bombing. 

He has to watch the man he sees as a father projected through the air by the blast from the bomb, and all he can hear for a solid five seconds is the fear buzzing in the static electricity around his ear. 

⭐️

Derek arrives at the site of the explosion riled up in a way he hasn’t been for a long time, his only consolation being that he knows Spencer is safe. God, you can definitely count on working a terrorist attack in New York City to accentuate your crippling crush on a coworker; a subtle burn has settled itself across Derek’s chest, the urge to hold and protect Spencer far too distracting for the circumstances. 

He reports immediately to Captain Warner but before he’s even able to identify himself, he hears Hotch shouting desperately for help and he slips immediately into rescue mode. 

“Hey! This area’s restricted,” an ESU shouts at him, as soon as he dashes for the barrier, and he forces the blinding anger flaring in his stomach to simmer down as he turns to the Captain again. 

“That’s my boss down there,” he shouts, making himself as intimidating as possible. 

“I have my orders,” the Captain replies simply, eyes hard and unrelenting. 

“I don’t give a damn what your orders are.” He’s finding it increasingly hard to restrain his anger as he hears Hotch shout again, turning to look hopelessly down the road at him. 

“Look, I get it agent,” Warner attempts to placate him, “but we’ve been told by you that responders are the targets. So until the blast site is cleared, no-one goes in.”

Derek spins around to face him again. “You’re Marine Corps, right?” By the look on Warner’s face, he’s found his way in. “Right?”

“Please, go back to the marshaling point,” he replies, the fight draining out of him. 

“I’m not doing it,” Derek yells stubbornly, furiously. “I’m not just gonna let my man lay down there like that.” Conveniently, Hotch’s miserable call comes down the road again and Derek meets the Captain’s eyes with a hard gaze. “Never leave a man behind. You do remember that, don’t you?”

“Help us!” Hotch screams again. “We’re here! Please!”

Derek glares at the Captain, and sprints as fast as he can towards Hotch as soon as he nods his okay. His boss is clearly disoriented and in a state of obvious distress but he doesn’t look terribly injured. Kate, on the other hand, is clearly a different story, and any hope Derek has for her survival melts away as Hotch explains her arterial bleed and he has to tell him that they can’t expect an ambulance any time soon. He tries to tell the kid crouching down by Kate to leave, but he seems reluctant. 

Derek doesn’t have the headspace to analyse why until he’s finally got him to run off and Spencer’s ringing him to tell him that he’s the bomber. 

⭐️

As soon as Spencer hears Derek run off after the bomber he feels his stress levels rising again. If Derek dies before Spencer finally works up the courage to tell him that he’s in love with him, he’ll never forgive himself for being such a coward, and he’ll never forgive Derek for leaving him. 

Immediately, he patches into the marshaling point and tells the rest of them, who have only just all reunited, what’s going on. 

“The bomb,” he explains, talking as fast as he can, “it was under Kate’s SUV. Hotch is out there with her, he seems okay but Kate is really hurt; they haven’t been able to move her.”

“Where was her SUV parked?” Rossi asks as they all gather around the computer.

“Two blocks east of Federal Plaza.”

“Two blocks east and they target Kate’s SUV?” He sounds incredulous. “Have you identified the bomber?”

“Lisa’s running him through VICAP,” he says, but shrugs hopelessly. He knows it’s a lost cause.

“Call Homeland Security,” Rossi instructs Penelope. “They should be at all the murder sites. See if they found anything.” She nods and stalks away on her heels, still managing to stay cool under pressure. Spencer would envy her, but he knows it’s only an external front, only a mask she has to wear out of complete and utter necessity.

“Okay, okay, but Morgan,” Spencer says, feeling more impatient and stressed than before, “he’s run after the bomber.”

“He’s run after the bomber?” JJ asks, bewildered. “Why?”

“He was at the bomb site,” he replies. “I’m trying to trace him on the city's CCTV network, but the feeds are grainy at best and completely severed at worst.” This is feeling more and more hopeless by the second, and the light at the end of the tunnel is only dimming. 

“Keep trying,” Rossi says, and then he’s turning to the rest of the team. 

Spencer takes a few calming breaths and focuses back on the computer in front of him. Find Derek, he thinks. Find Derek and, when this case is over, stop being a coward and tell him how hopelessly in love with him you are. The pool of dread and fear weighing his stomach down only seems to deepen as he searches relentlessly through the CCTV feeds he can access, looking for Derek and the bomber chasing through the streets of the city. Eventually, he finds him and follows his movements down to the subway station. He watches with baited breath as Derek looks around the empty platform, clearly shouting to the unsub, though Spencer can’t hear what he’s saying. He speeds up the feed, seeing as it’s delayed slightly and fast forwards to Derek entering the tunnel, his sense of dread only intensifying as he loses visual. 

Trying desperately not to panic, he fast-forwards until he’s watching in real time, but Derek still hasn’t emerged, and neither has the bomber, both still hiding in the secrecy of the depths of the city’s transport network. There’s a vague spark of light — which he later finds out was the bomber electrocuting himself on an exposed part of the railway — only barely visible on the poor quality of the camera feed, before Derek emerges, looking rattled but very much alive. 

He doesn’t have much time to celebrate Derek’s livelihood, however, because JJ and Penelope are patching him back through to their conversation. 

“Spencer, Homeland Security has poured tactical teams into all the locations on the geo-profile — SWAT, bomb techs, HRT, hazmat, the works — they found nothing,” Penelope says, clearly puzzled and frustrated.

JJ’s about to reply when something catches her eye. “Yeah, all except one,” she says. “Kate’s SUV — none of the shootings were near it.”

“Maybe it’s personal,” Penelope muses. “I mean, this death card they gave us; they delivered on it.”

“No,” Spencer jumps in, realising what JJ’s getting at, “that’s just it — they haven’t. A cell as large as this one and multiple targets to choose from, they target a single SUV?”

“It’s a diversion,” JJ says, “Everything that’s happened so far has appeared to be something it’s not. The seemingly random acts of violence, Emily’s suicide by cop to make us believe it’s all over. Hotch and Kate as an endgame; they want us to think this is over. They’ve deliberately skewed our profile to make us believe they would be at the sites of the shooting.”

“You’re right. That was memorable” Rossi says, finally chiming in as he gestures to a picture of the twin towers on the wall. “This is not. There’s something else.”

⭐️

As soon as Derek manages to calm Hotch down, he summons the rest of the team to St Barclay’s and for the first time since the bomb went off under Kate’s SUV, the team is back together again.

“Are you okay?” Emily asks Hotch as soon as the team walks into the hospital. He’s scratched and bruised all over, visibly shaken, and clearly in a lot of pain but, Hotch being Hotch, he’s stubbornly refusing to accept the necessary medical attention and probably just wants to see the back of this whole ordeal, not unlike the rest of them. 

“I’m fine,” he says, clearly not fine at all but shouldering his jacket on anyway. “I just want to understand why I’m still alive. Did you identify Sam, the bomber?”

“Spencer put Sam and the other dead unsub into every known database,” Penelope offers. “Nothing.” At the mention of Spencer, Derek feels his heart clench in his chest. God, Spencer’s intelligence is so attractive to him, even though he knows it’s something his pretty boy can be so unreasonably insecure about it. He can’t wait to see the end of this night and touch him, reassure his aching, restless heart that he’s safe, alive, protected. 

Once again, he thinks cynically, nothing like a terrorist attack to leave him on the brink of finally telling Spencer how he feels. 

They quickly get back on topic, deducing as a team the terror cell’s real endgame: they’ll use a single chemical bomb planted in the ambulance. If Sam wasn’t calling 911 every few minutes but a number that went dead minutes after he died, then there’s only one reason he stayed with Hotch and Kate. To make sure the ambulance got to them. The ambulance they drove into a hospital, with the paramedic’s help, housing someone important enough to have the Secret Service protecting them. 

Derek doesn’t think. He runs. 

“Spencer?” he says, into his ear piece as he runs down the stairs, refusing to let fear come to the surface. “I need you to jam the frequencies in this cell block for as long as possible, okay?”

“What’s going on?” Spencer asks, clearly concerned, but Derek can hear him already tapping away at his computer.

“Just,” Derek pauses, takes a second to feel, process, and then suppress his panic, “just… I need you to do this for me, alright, pretty boy.”

“I’m already on it.” Spencer sounds exactly he does: carefully, artificially calm. He runs down the last few flights of stairs and into the parking garage, locating the ambulance before he hears Spencer again. “Morgan?” 

“Yeah, baby,” he says, panting half from the exertion of sprinting down far too many flights of stairs and partly from the pressure of the situation settling on his chest — the stakes actually registering for the first time. 

“You sound stressed,” Spencer says, deliberate and light. “Where are you?”

“Not where I want to be right now,” Derek replies, a little self-deprecatingly. Really, it’s just deflection; a last ditch attempt at avoidance of the likelihood he dies tonight. “Reid, take this down for me: FDNY 108.”

“That’s an ambulance, are you okay?” His voice is quick and rises ever so slightly in pitch. 

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just track it for me.” Tentatively, he opens the door to the ambulance, heart sinking and blood pressure rising as soon as he clocks the monumental bomb stowed neatly in the trunk of the seat. “Reid, how long can you keep jamming the cell block?” He knows he’s sounding breathless now and he knows Spencer is probably panicking, unable to know what’s going on but clearly reading enough of the situation to understand that asking would be decidedly unhelpful right now. 

“Uh, maximum of a few minutes, Morgan,” Spencer replies. “Why?”

“I’m going to have to get this ambulance out of here.” This is it. The culmination. 

“Or you could just evacuate the building like everyone else,” Spencer says urgently, sounding outraged at the idea. 

Derek cringes at the disapproval, but he doesn't have a choice. “No, as soon as the airwaves are clear, this thing’s going up.”

“Going up?” Spencer doesn’t bother concealing the outright panic in his voice anymore. “That’s like… in three minutes, that’s when the satellite moves position.”

“Reid, listen to me,” Derek says, climbing into the cab of the ambulance and beginning to fiddle with the wiring. “I need you to find me an area of town I can drive this thing, and you tell everybody, you hear me, everybody that I’m coming.” He finally gets the engine to start and begins to drive out of the garage. “Alright. Talk to me, Reid.” He prays desperately that they get this right, that Spencer helps him, that they manage to subvert this terrorist attack. 

“Okay,” Spencer says, back to his measured, calm tone of voice, and Derek sighs in relief at the sound. “Okay, head north… and floor it. I’ll tell you where to turn.” He’s almost out of the garage when the ‘paramedic’ starts shooting at the back of the ambulance, screaming in rage as Derek manages to escape both van and bomb unscathed. “What was that?”

“It was nothing,” Derek shouts, heart pounding in his ears as he turns the sirens and lights on, stepping on the gas as he heads north, “it was nothing. Just… talk to me. How am I doing, Reid?”

Derek hears Spencer ask Lisa for an update before exhaling hard. “1 minute, 50 seconds,” he replies, despair spilling into his voice. “Why does it always have to be you? Why do you always have to do this?” His stomach clenches at the sound of Spencer on the edge of tears and feels himself tearing up in response, swallowing his grief in lieu of actually replying. “Derek, you don’t have much time. Please be smart about this. Signal’s coming back on line, there’s thirty seconds until full coverage.”

Derek’s never driven so fast, his hands pinching at the steering wheel and every muscle tensed. He tries very hard not to think about the fact that there’s a bomb only a metre behind him, set to explode in less than half a minute.

“Derek, drive to the opening and then get the hell out,” Spencer says, no constraint to his emotion at this point, he’s almost shouting down the phone, very clearly crying, now. 

He swallows. He has no choice; he has to tell him. “Spencer,” he says, nearly choked off by a sob, “there’s something I really want you to know.”

“Save it,” Spencer shouts. “Just get out!”

“No, you know what Reid? If I don’t make it out of this alive, I need you to know that I love you, alright?” he says, finally confessing to the secret he’s been holding close to his chest for so long, but as soon as the words are out of his mouth, he’s throwing himself out of the ambulance and running as fast as he can away from it, still not outrunning the blast picking him up and tossing him across the field. 

Slowly, getting back to his feet, he turns to face the fire as he catches his breath. He has no idea how he’s still alive. 

Fiddling with his earpiece, he tunes back into Spencer’s line to hear him crying on the other end. “Oh, God, Derek, I love you, too,” he sobs as soon as he hears Derek click back into the call.

“Spencer, I’ll tell you what you are to me,” he says, relief and warmth and love blooming across his chest, driving out the crippling fear and panic previously rooted there, “you’re my God-given solace. Baby, you promise me one thing… whatever happens, don’t you ever stop talking to me.”

Spencer laughs wetly, and it’s the most beautiful sound Derek’s heard so far. “I’m so mad at you, right now,” he says, but his happiness is written across every word, “I’m so angry. But… I love you, too.”

Derek laughs, too, the relief of being both alive and loved by Spencer almost euphoric as he walks away from the still blazing ambulance. He guesses he has a terror cell’s failed attack to thank for his long overdue admittance of his love for Dr Spencer Reid, and the frankly wonderful news that it’s actually reciprocated.

⭐️

Derek and Hotch arrive back at Quantico 12 hours after everyone else, having driven home instead of taking the jet with the others due to Hotch’s rather inconvenient ear trauma. That only gives Spencer more time to panic over seeing him for the first time since their deathbed love confessions; they’d spoken briefly on the phone the morning before Derek and Hotch set off, promising to talk about it in person as soon as he was home, and now he nearly was.

Penelope had made a beeline for Spencer as soon as the others had arrived and taken him out for coffee, despite their mutual exhaustion. She’d deduced the situation based on Spencer’s incredibly cryptic HELP. IT HAPPENED. text message almost immediately after the explosion, having been the only one Spencer had confided in about his feelings for Derek. No matter how much she promised him Derek felt the same, he refused to do anything about it, leaving her to watch her two favourite people pine miserably for one another, and actively choosing to remain in said misery instead of confessing and being happy. 

He now actually felt bad for her. 

“Just tell him what you want,” Penelope says over the top of her latte, croissant crumbs littering the table in between them. “You want to get married and have lots of babies with him.”

“Okay, first of all,” Spencer says, fixing her with a look, “you know that neither of those things are true. And, secondly, it’s not that simple. What if he isn’t looking for a relationship or anything? Why hasn’t he said something before now?”

To her credit, Penelope avoids slamming her head into the table in frustration despite how much he looks like she wants to. “Spencer,” Penelope says, levelling a look right back at him, “Derek thought he was about to die. And in that moment, all he felt like he needed was to be sure that you knew he loves you. How could you possibly be that in love with someone and not crave a relationship with them?”

Spencer finds it hard to argue against that. 

Derek reclines on Spencer’s sofa, comfortably surveying the organised chaos of his living room, while Spencer tries to gather the snacks and drinks as calmly as possible in the kitchen, finding it much harder to assume the seemingly unaffected air Derek pulls off so easily. He walks back to where he’s sitting, and he almost drops his only slightly wobbly tray at the blinding smile Derek sends his way. 

“Oh, pretty boy, you’re spoiling me,” he teases, sitting upright and leaning forward to survey the snacks Spencer had rushed out and bought earlier that afternoon. Naturally, he blushes immediately at the compliment and sits next to him on the sofa, grabbing a drink for something to do with his hands. 

“Well, if all it takes is some cheese puffs from Walmart to make you happy then I think this is going to be alright,” Spencer says, trying for cool, calm, and collected and hitting somewhere near nervous and frenzied instead.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Derek scoffs as he breaks off a piece of chocolate and takes a bite. “I’m here for you, not the refreshments, luxurious as they might be. I don’t remember confessing my love to snack food in the moment I thought I was going to die.” He ruffles Spencer’s hair as his face heats up even more, smiling bashfully over at him. 

“No,” Spencer agrees, feeling all warm inside, “you told me.”

Derek looks serious all of a sudden. “I did,” he nods, leaning forward to put the chocolate down on the tray so he can focus all his attention on Spencer, taking his hands in his own, “and I meant it. I’ve probably been in love with you since you joined the team, Spencer, but I realised it properly last year, and I was always too scared to say anything. I’m sorry it had to be in that moment, and I’m even more sorry that if I’d died you would have had to live with that for the rest of your life.” He pauses and looks down at his lap for a moment. “That was unforgivable.”

Spencer smiles at him, gripping Derek’s fingers a little tighter. “I’m not mad about any of that, Derek,” he says, “I’m just glad it finally happened. And so is Penelope, apparently. She’s been telling me you loved me back for years but I never believed her; I didn’t think this would ever happen.”

Derek chuckles fondly at that and brings his hand to Spencer’s cheek, brushing his fingers across the warm skin for just a moment, but Spencer can’t help but lean into his touch, eyelids fluttering half-closed as they meet in such an intimate manner. “So, pretty boy,” he says, smile warm and eyes bright, “shall we give this a go?”

Spencer looks back up at Derek and takes a second to let the moment he’d daydreamed about for so long sink in, let himself marinate in the love that Derek has for him. “Yes,” he replies. “Please.” And then Derek’s lips are on his own, his hands around his face, and the future’s never looked so bright.

taglist: @strippersenseii @criminalmindsvibez @drinkingcroissants

Just a note: a lot of the dialogue was stolen directly from the episode and Derek & Spencer's conversation on the phone is almost an exact transcript; it's from my notes though so it may not be perfect. It also follows the case very closely and none of that is mine. 

[unholyhelbig]

Title: Centerfold [Pt.2]

Ship: Beca Mitchell/ Chloe Beale

(Read Part one here)

Beca Mitchell’s phone was a box of constant communication. She had her emails redirected so that she could feel every single time she needed to address something at the office, even if she was there and the soft pinging culminated in the very screen she stared at. She had a multitude of contacts and would video chat with the team in Italy, and sometimes L.A.

So, what she knew deep down, was that it was impossible for her not to look at her phone all day. Physically she had to check the notifications to keep her world running. Emily intercepted most of them, keeping her deep stare on her own screen before glancing up at her boss every couple of minutes. They were both on edge and Beca didn’t much appreciate the tension that sparked between them.

She held her breathe each time a new ping sounded off until eventually that lull of anxiety was hushed to a dull ache in the pit of her chest. She went through her morning meets and a new presentation to her team about how their coding for a new watch wasn’t up to parr- they had a few days to fix it before it dropped, and the CEO made sure she knew that.

When the notification from Chloe did finally come through, Beca almost didn’t’ notice. She registered the pink of the logo that slowly shifted to a deep purple. But the name? Oh, the name she hadn’t clocked for a few seconds after that. And even then, Chloe Beale? Her Chloe, actually responded.

Beca lilted the computer screen and frantically looked up at Emily, who was already at her door. She didn’t bother to knock. Instead, she situated the office and closed the blinds and very coolly, but not so coolly, pressed her back against the wood and breathed.

“Dude,” Beca said.

“I know,” Emily said “Did you read it?”

She hadn’t read it. She hadn’t even thought to read it because her mind got stuck behind the massive roadblock that was Chloe Beale and her stupid pun username. She opened the application and hesitated over the message icon. She was supposed to be playing it hard to get like she didn’t’ care if she even got a response. But she did care and apparently so did her assistant because she was right behind her, blindly gawking like her halo fell into her eyes and blinded her from right and wrong.

“If I click this she’ll see that I read it and then there’s no going back.”

“You don’t want to go back, do you?”

“You told me to keep her guessing,”

“Truthfully, I didn’t think you’d even get a response.” Emily shrugged sheepishly “Figured you would forget about it in a few days and… open it.”

Beca frowned but hovered the mouse over the message. She wanted to close her eyes but felt like she was watching a car accident, complete with the red and blue flashing lights and the metallic crunch of metal. Either way, she couldn't avert her stare. She didn’t want to.

Chloe: Hey stranger. I must admit that I was never expecting to hear from you again, big shot manager. I’ve kept my tabs on you… New York is my home, so if you’re serious about coffee, so am I.

Her breath caught in her throat. Chloe Fucking Beale had said yes. Her childhood love had agreed to coffee that neither of them could probably stomach. Chloe Fucking Beale who was a playboy model with more than a million Instagram followers, and Chloe Fucking Beale who she was pretty sure she still loved.

There had been other people, men, and women that she had thought she fell for. She folded into soft touches and stronger commands. She was happy for months at a time and on one rare occasion a full year with a man who ran his own tours of the city. But none of those relationships had ever been like the one she had with Chloe.

Beca pulled in a long breath that filled her lungs with stale coffee and copy paper. She tilted her lid and looked to Emily because she was the expert. And Beca was frozen. That same cold excitement filled her and it also rocked her ever-loving shit. She couldn’t move, she couldn’t think.

Emily looked at the darkened screen, then at her boss, then back at the screen before lunging forward and typing back a reply. Perfect. Are you free this Saturday?

It turns out that Chloe was free that Saturday and if she wasn’t, she didn’t’ say a word and quietly cleared her schedule. The day was quickly approaching and Beca really wanted to know why the New York Branch put her in charge of everything when she could barely figure out what to wear to a simple cup of coffee.

This felt more like a simple cup of coffee.

Emily eventually got tired of the barrage of pictures she was getting and took a cab to Beca’s apartment an hour before the actual date. They settled on black jeans and a blue button-down that Emily pulled closer to her chest for extra measure because according to her “You look good in anything and Chloe won’t be able to make eye contact with you.”

Then she was on a subway that smelled like stale snow and hot morning breath. They picked a small shop downtown that not many people knew about. It was a feat in the city to find a place that wasn’t packed like a sardine can and Beca trusted Chloe’s judgment tenfold.

Beca got there first, and her palms were sweating despite the cool atmosphere that swept through the little shop each time the door opened. It was a meta cross between a thrifted bookstore and a café. People sat and ate and read and the scent of what Beca imagined old magic to be, mingled well with coffee grinds and fresh pastries.

She ordered a simple black americano and settled by the front window, the glass fogged from a warm contrast with the cold of the busy street and curved lettering faced the patrons. There was a simple logo and one barista behind the counter. She chose a random book and pretended to read, but only skimmed the same paragraph over and over again.

Her main focus was on the door and the bell that chimed each time it was opened. One of those times, after a businessman and a hipster kid hugging his laptop close to his chest, it was Chloe. Soft and vibrant compared to the rest of the dim academic setting.

Her hair was pulled behind her ears and a pair of golden framed glasses rested on her nose. She had aged like wine and the wind that blew in behind her carried the sweet scent of southern peaches through the front door. She wore a white sweater with a plaid peacoat and high wasted jeans, and Beca knew she was staring.

Everyone was, they couldn’t’ help it. She overtook the room with a warm and sparked presence. If anyone recognized her they didn’t’ say a thing, out of saving their own face or because the girl in the centerfold of the latest playboy was wildly different than the one standing in front of her. This… this was her Chloe.

She didn’t’ know if she could hug Chloe, if touching was okay, but as she stood to greet her, she was pulled into the warmth of the woman. She was wrapped in overwhelming touch and emotion and she buried her nose into Chloe’s hair as they held onto each other, not quite willing to let go of the familiarity before realizing that it was inappropriate not to.

“Wow,” Chloe ran her hands down Beca’s arms, stopping at her elbows “You haven’t aged a day, have you?”

“It’s the lighting in here, I think it’s one step up from basement overhead.”

Chloe laughed and it was a magical sound. The only thing more intoxicating was her smile, which never seemed to leave her lips as she ordered her own drink, something loaded with sugar and caramel, and leaned forward across the table to get a better look at her date.

Beca sipped her coffee and quirked an eyebrow “What?”

“I haven’t seen you in ten years, I think it’s perfectly acceptable for me to study you.”

“There’ll be plenty of time for that,” She tested “What have you been up to all these years?”

Chloe leaned back in her seat and cupped her mug. It was a russet red and steam rose from the pale liquid that soaked inside. There was a sickeningly sweet odor to it and part of Beca regretted ordering nothing but a black coffee. It seemed like a disservice to the atmosphere of the shop.

“Oh, a bunch of stuff here and there. I used to be based out of LA, I did a lot of acting there. Little stuff like soap operas and a couple of commercials. It wasn’t for me, though so I moved here to pursue modeling and it’s been going well. Really well.”

Beca didn’t’ want to mention the playboy magazine or the curve of Chloe’s legs and the way her skin shown under the bright summer sun. She never returned it to Jason because he never asked for it back. It was an unspoken solidarity between the two.

“That’s amazing,” Beca smiled, feeling excitement in her chest “Anything I would recognize?”

Chloe hummed into her drink “Mm, maybe a few things. It depends on how you feel about Playboy. I never thought you were much of a reader.”

Beca looked down dejectedly at the old spined book to her right. It was true, she hadn’t read the Catcher in the Rye and she barely got through the introduction paragraph because of the nerves and the heartbeat that beat so strongly against the inside of her wrist right now.

“I’m not usually. But I do enjoy looking at the pictures.” Beca flicked her stare back towards the woman across from her “Though, that’s not the reason I reached out to you.”

“Truth is, I’ve always wanted to message you, but you looked like you were doing so well. Like you were so happy. I didn’t want to throw you off or seem like I was chasing something that we used to have.” She said, “So I waited.”

It was Beca’s turn to laugh, “I felt the same exact way. We’re both pretty stupid, then huh? Waiting like this for something we knew… for something we knew we wanted.”

Chloe smiled wider and clinked her mug against Beca’s yellow one, not spilling any of the mostly full drink. “To being stupid. And getting to know each other all over again.”

And that’s exactly what they did. They sat and talked until they were the only two in the coffee shop and Beca even dared to kiss Chloe when they got to the subway platform.  She tasted like caramel and sunshine if such a thing was even possible.

But it was because she had found Chloe. Centerfold Chloe. High school Chloe, and most importantly, her Chloe.

[liberty-barnes]

Letters To A Stranger

Peter Parker x Female!Reader

Summary: The story of a girl who loved a boy, but couldn't talk, so she wrote.

Warnings: fluff for a bit, but then massive angst, and i mean massive, STOP READING HERE IF YOU DON'T WANT ANY SPOILERS BUT I WOULDN'T FEEL OKAY WITHOUT LISTING ALL THE ANGST FACTORS 

(mentions of ED, mentions of self-harm, implied character death, mentions of social anxiety)

Word Count: 1.3k words

Estimated Reading Time: 5 minutes

A/N: did you miss me?

Masterlist 

February 21st, 2024

Dear Cute Boy On The Subway, 

Are you new? Or was I simply too oblivious to your presence until now? I've never seen you before, you're really pretty.

 I don't think I've ever used the word "pretty" to describe a man before. Well, boy, but my point stands.

But you really are. With your caramel eyes, and artistically tousled hair. You're cute. Kind of like a puppy. Not that I'm attracted to dogs, of course, but there's really no better way to describe you. Your face lights up when you talk on the phone, like an excited golden retriever who'd just been told he was going for a walk. I wonder who you're talking to. Is it your partner? Please, say you're single.

You get off after me apparently, so I guess I'll just keep my pining to my letters and hope to see you again tomorrow.

Kinda wishing I was yours,

Your secret admirer.

February 22nd, 2024

Dear Cute Boy On The Subway, 

You're back! Is this a simple coincidence or are you a regular? 

From the backpack on your shoulder, I'd say maybe you're a student. I don't go to school. You make me wish I did if only to see your face every day for more than the short ten minutes of our joint ride.

I wonder how old you are. You look old enough to be in high school, but which year are you? I know I'm only nineteen, but I'd feel a little bummed about crushing on a fourteen-year-old.

You're smiling again today. I'm glad. I don't see a lot of smiles at the diner. Mostly glares, impatient huffs, and tired, distant expressions. It's a nice change.

I have to go now but thank you for making my day.

Hoping to see you again tomorrow, 

Your secret admirer.

February 23rd, 2024

Dear Cute Boy On The Subway, 

I'm starting to think that smile is permanent. It's the third day in a row that I've gotten on the train and was immediately greeted with your beaming smile as you watched some video on your phone. It made me smile too.

Your sweatshirt's pretty. It says "Midtown Tech" on it. Is that a school? Is it your school? 

I may have to do some digging later.

Please don't think I'm a stalker.

Your totally not-stalker secret admirer.

March 1st, 2024

Dear Cute Boy On The Subway, 

I was late this morning so I didn't get to see you. My boss was not happy about it, I felt like I was walking on very thin ice.

And then this guy grabbed my ass while I was taking his order. I acted on instinct, tried to remember everything they taught me at my self-defense class. I ended up accidentally punching him in the face. 

So yeah, I lost my job today. Which is why I'm here so early. I might stay on the subway just to see which stop you get off on. 

Yeah, maybe not, that'd be weird and I should start job hunting as soon as possible.

Thank you for making me smile on a bad day.

Thank you for being you,

Your secret admirer.

March 17th, 2024

Dear Cute Boy On The Subway, 

I got a new job! I'm working at this coffee shop/bookstore and it's honestly the greatest thing in the world. I get to be around books AND get free hot chocolate, how much better can life be?

You looked a little down today, I wonder if you're okay? Is everything well at home? Maybe school's the problem? Maybe you got a bad grade, but you look really smart so I don't know.

I hope you're feeling better tomorrow,

Your secret admirer.

March 19th, 2024

Dear Cute Boy On The Subway, 

I wish I knew your name, that way I'd know who to address this to. But I guess Cute Boy On The Subway will have to do. 

You were smiling again today, that's nice. I haven't seen you smile in a while, I was starting to get worried. The sweater you were wearing looked a little too big to be yours, the collar slipped down a little when you moved. It looks like there's a massive bruise on your upper chest. Does it hurt? Are you okay?

I wish I was brave enough to ask you in person.

Get better soon, 

Your secret admirer.

March 25th, 2024

Dear Cute Boy On The Subway, 

You're back to not smiling today. I don't like to see you frown. Not at all. I want you to tell me what's wrong. I want to help you get better, see you smile again.

I want to talk to you.

I'll do it tomorrow, 

Your secret admirer.

March 26th, 2024

Dear Cute Boy On The Subway, 

You were sad again today. But that's okay, cause I said I'd talk to you. 

Except I didn't.

My stomach started doing uncomfortable flips and I had to get off the train earlier than usual so I could throw up. It was not fun. 

Maybe I just have the flu?

Hopefully, I'll be better tomorrow,

Your secret admirer.

March 30th, 2024

Dear Cute Boy On The Subway, 

I've tried talking to you for three days, every time I had to get off and empty my stomach's content. I started to see a pattern so after a half week of that vicious cycle, I went to see my doctor.

Turns out I have social anxiety tendencies and you simply trigger them a bit. So, basically, my body won't let me talk to you.

I'm a little sad but also kind of relieved. At least I know I'm not voluntarily letting you slip through my fingers.

Not that I ever plan on doing that, you've become too important.

I hope you smile tomorrow,

Your secret admirer.

April 7th, 2024

Dear Cute Boy On The Subway, 

I'm worried about you. Your sleeve rose a little when you held onto the pole. There are scars there, familiar ones, ones that I recognize as scars left by one's own hand. Physical marks of a person's suffering.

Why are you doing that? It hurts to know that you feel down enough to resort to that. I want to help, but I can't bring myself to talk to you.

Please stop this,

Your secret admirer.

April 12th, 2024

Dear Cute Boy On The Subway, 

Your eyes were red today. You've been crying. There are dark circles under your eyes, how long has it been since you've last slept?

A lady asked you if you were alright. You said you were just a little tired. I've never heard a more obvious lie.

I wish I could talk to you,

Your secret admirer.

April 16th, 2024

Dear Cute Boy On The Subway, 

The dark circles haven't gone away, if anything they've gotten darker. But now there's a bruise on your cheek. You seem to be getting thinner too.

What's going on?

Your secret admirer.

April 28th, 2024

Dear Cute Boy On The Subway, 

How much weight have you lost? Your cheekbones are more prominent, and your arms are getting thinner by the second. Why don't you eat? 

The bruises are more frequent now. Cheek, eyebrow, lip... 

Who's hitting you?

Who's making you suffer?

Your secret admirer.

May 6th, 2024

Dear Cute Boy On The Subway, 

I haven't seen you in a few days. I wonder where you are.

Are you okay?

I'm sorry, that's a stupid question, you probably aren't.

I've decided that next time I see you I'm gonna talk to you. Ask you what's wrong. Force you to tell me if that's what it takes.

I hope you're safe.

Your secret admirer.

May 27th, 2024

Dear Peter Parker, 

I'm sorry I wasn't brave enough to talk to you when I had the chance.

I hope you're in a better place now.

I'm sorry you were alone when you did it.

I'm sorry you had to do it.

With love,

(Y/n).

yes, i'm one of those authors that post something an then disappears for two months, i'm sorry. i've been super busy with school and i haven't really had the motivation to write lately but i got this idea and i just needed to get it out.

also, i may be getting a new computer in like 1 or 2 weeks, so that's cool! it'll be better to write and stuff cause this one's getting kinda slow and sometimes it's hard to post stuff cause it won't load lmao.

anyway, i hope you liked it and if you did don’t forget to reblog/comment/like

love you all!

-Miah

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────» 

Taglists: (if your name is striked through it means for some reason tumblr wouldn’t let me tag you) 

PERMA TAG 

@jeezkiddo​ @officiallyunofficialperson​  @beananacake​ @theunderlier @harrysleftchelseaboot​ @averyfosterthoughts​ @onebigolemess​ @samoney69​ @agirlwithpointlessideas​ @ddaawwssoonn​ @inhumanwithpowers​ @imagineshere-forall​ @stiles-banshees​ @orowit​ @spideynut​ @deathofmissjackson​ @parkersbliss​ @ephemeral-limerences​ @write-from-the-heart​ @cardboard-ben​ @my-alignment-is-bisexual @mendes-marvel​ @timotayswriter​ @inthecornerchair​ @lovelynerdytraveler​ @niallssweetheart22​ @incorrect-things​ @lost-in-the-stars03​ @harishaanne​ @ellamw04 @bisexual-disappointment​ @onelovesr​ @ellyseveronica​ @sovereignparker​ @notsosmexy​ @theamazingtomholland​ @lozzypoz321​ @peterspideyy​

PETER PARKER TAG 

@dreaming-lia @markleehee​ @juliebean247​ @quechulitaaa​ @bubblegumbarnes​ @sofiaconlaz​ @bellaaa321-blog​ @parkerpetertingle​ @emily-louise-hynes @clara-licht​ @ekelly2015​ @inlovewithmobtom​ @quaksonhehe​ @danicarosaline​ @tutuabby28​ @sovereignparker​ @spn67-sister​ @t-monosapiens-h @kayleypaige2233​ @galaxystern08​ @highlydisfunctional1​ @jillanaholland​ @zeusmyster​ @sirtommyholland​ @a-singleboat​ @allthisfortommy​ @middevil456 @kdotcxz​ @drishtisikarwar 

MARVEL TAG 

@dreaming-lia @emily-louise-hynes @arts-ismything​ @peachyafshawn​ @cathwritestragediesnotsins​ @spn67-sister​ @t-monosapiens-h @galaxystern08​ @highlydisfunctional1​ @jillanaholland​ @hyluas @ravenagrimes @captainbuckyy​ @kaylig02​ @crazyassbitch-things-blog @sharenaloveyouX @tacobacoyeet​ @andycanbeemotional​ @angelicromanoff 

[ry-kills-jemily]

A Fire in You (Emily Prentiss x Jennifer Jareau):

Rated Explicit. NSFW

"Hey Em, I want to try something". JJ twirled her hair around her fingers. It was a nervous habit.

"Of course gorgeous. What is it?" Emily glanced up from the book she was reading and met JJ's eyes. She realised this was a serious conversation so she put her bookmark between the two pages that were open and placed the book on the table next to the armchair she was sat in.

JJ murmured something under her breath that Emily couldn't understand.

"Come sit on my lap and then tell me JJ. Okay?" JJ straddled Emily's thighs and tucked her face into the crook of her girlfriend's neck.

"I want to try roleplay and I want to be the one in charge for once". Emily stiffened for a second. She always topped JJ. Always.

"I... JJ. we've never done that before". Emily's thumb moved to her lips so that she could bite on the skin of her nail.

"I know. I just want to try Em. If you don't like it, we can stop". JJ pulled Emily's hand away from her mouth. She kissed each knuckle on the hand she was holding and then cupped Emily's face to look into her girlfriend's eyes.

"We can try baby. If you want to, I'm happy to try for you. For us even. We said we'd experiment and while the thought of having no control terrifies me, I also kind of like it". JJ smiled and leaned her forehead against Emily's and they revelled in the closeness for a few minutes.

—————

That brought them to today, where they were roleplaying in their home office. JJ had the control and for the first time in a while, Emily wasn’t the boss.

"You what?" Emily could tell that her boss was annoyed because she wasn't shouting. Her voice had barely changed tone and that was a bad sign.

"I know how it looks Agent Jareau. We violated your directive but the BAU saves lives. Isn't... isn't that what's most important?"Emily had to try and save herself, and the team.

"Are you really that arrogant? Do you truly believe that the BAU is the only unit in the FBI that's in it for the good guys? Agent Prentiss what do you really want?" Oh damn. JJ was pissed off.

"I need access to a case you investigated a few years ago". You know what? She was just going to get straight to the point.

"Let me guess, you think it was a kidnapping, not him running away". JJ’s arms folded across her chest and she glared at Emily who was sat in the chair opposite her.

"I do. I think he was this unsub's first victim". Emily started playing with her fingers under the table to hide her nervousness.

"You think that's why I sealed the file? Because I missed something?" JJ’s blue eyes were piercing through Emily’s and it was actually quite intimidating.

"No". She stammered for a few seconds. The question had completely thrown her off the thought process she was having. "I don't know why you sealed the case. All I know is that I need to see it. Now".

"The father reported him missing. That wasn't unusual, he was always running away and he went missing all the time. We found him in an alley near a subway station". Emily was lost for words. The longer JJ spoke, the more shocked she became.

"So we are clear, permission to access my file is officially denied and just so we are crystal clear, I am relieving you of duty. Effective immediately. Please turn over your gun and your badge Agent Prentiss". Emily’s mouth dropped open. Her boss couldn’t do that! Okay, maybe she could but it still wasn’t fair.

Emily took her badge from her pocket and placed it on the table. She unholstered her gun and ran her fingers over it for the last time and then she placed that on the desk too.

She turned to leave JJ's office but stopped before she pulled the handle down and locked it instead. With a strut, she made her way to where JJ was sat and straddled her thighs.

In an instant her lips were on her bosses neck and sucking a dark red mark into her pulse point. She didn't let up until JJ moaned out loud.

"Baby, Em. We're at work. We can't just hook up". She grabbed Emily's waist and pulled her closer to her own hips, completely contradicting what she was saying.

"Why not? We do outside of work. You know how I get when you go all stern on me. It turns me on". She started to pepper kisses over her boss/girlfriend’s throat.

"That's exactly why baby. We're at work. We said that we would keep things professional here and if I bent you over my desk to fuck you, that would definitely not be keeping professional". That made Emily groan and buck her hips over JJ's thighs.

"Please. Just quickly. I'll be a good girl Jay". JJ grabbed Emily’s hips to keep her still.

"I know. You always are Em. I just don't think you've been a good girl today. I mean, do good girls go against their bosses orders babygirl?"

"No". She looked away out of guilt and shame for not being a good girl and tucked her face into JJ’s neck.

"So, do you think you could maybe make it up to me sweet girl?" Emily nodded against the crook of her neck. "I need you to use your words for me baby".

"I can make it up to you. Please. Please let me". JJ ran a hand through Emily curls and then down her back.

"Good girl. Take off your clothes and then bend over my desk". JJ landed a slap on Emily’s ass and then helped her stand up.

She cleared most of the files from her desk and put them on top of the cabinet while Emily was undressing and then she moved the rest of the things on her desk to one side so it was easy for Emily to bend over the desk like she had asked.

JJ grabbed the bottle of lube from the drawer in her desk. She was always careful with her partners and she liked to take care of them.

She coated her middle and ring finger in lube and slammed them into Emily as soon as she was in a comfortable position and started a punishing rhythm. Emily moaned loudly and started to squirm a little. Thankfully the walls were thick and it was the middle of the day so they didn’t need to feel guilty about making too much noise.

JJ kept up the fast pace with her two fingers on one hand and with the other she slapped both sides of Emily's ass and then wrapped her hand around her girlfriend's throat. She applied pressure to both of Emily's pulse points essentially cutting off the blood flow for a few seconds making the brunette agent’s head feel fuzzy. She let go when Emily tapped her hand against the desk twice, their signal to stop the choking.

Immediately after letting go of Emily's throat, JJ moved her hand to the base of the other woman's hair, tangling her hand there and pulling at the roots a little. The moans Emily let out were delicious and it made JJ thrust her fingers faster.

"Please can I cum? Please? I'm so close". JJ pulled on her hair more so Emily's head was facing the ceiling.

"You're going to cum on fingers while we're at work. God. You're such a slut Emily. You're begging me to cum already. I've barely touched you princess".

"Please. I've been a good girl. I've done everything you asked. I need to cum". Emily had to fight to keep her orgasm away.

"You need to cum? No, you don't. You want to cum Emily. You don't need to. I'll tell you what you need to do. I'm taking my fingers away and you're going to wait". She pulled the two fingers she had in Emily out and then slapped both sides of her ass a few times leaving it a little pink.

"No. Please. I was so close". Emily thrust her hips back to find more contact.

"I know and you're going to wait until I say you can cum". JJ let go of Emily's hair and wrapped her hand around the older agent's throat again.

She let Emily's head get fuzzy from being choked once more and when she tapped the desk twice to stop, JJ thrust two fingers back into her. She set a brutal rhythm and Emily was soon begging to cum.

"Jay. I'm so close can I please cum?"

"Yes you can. You've been such a good girl for me. Cum on my fingers and keep being a good girl". When she was granted permission, Emily came, hard. The moans she let out turned JJ on more.

JJ let go once she helped her girlfriend come down from her high and then sat back in her chair while she let Emily catch her breath, and the use of her legs again. She watched the beauty of a woman before her. She had been turned into a mess and was still looking as beautiful as she did the first time JJ saw her in Hotch’s office.

Emily caught her breath and her legs stopped shaking. She turned around to face the woman who had just gave her an intense orgasm and when she saw the look in JJ's eyes, she dropped to her knees.

Her hands reached for the one JJ had in her pants lightly brushing over her clit. She pulled it out and wrapped her lips around two fingers. Emily sat back and watched as JJ took her pants and panties off. She leaned in to pepper kisses over JJ’s thighs.

"Em, baby. You don't have to. You're probably exhausted". Emily sunk her teeth into one of JJ’s thighs before speaking.

"I want to. Please let me eat you out. Please?" How could JJ say no to those eyes looking up at her?

Emily continued looking up, making eye contact as she swiped her tongue through the wetness collecting between her girlfriend’s thighs. She moaned sending vibrations through the other woman's body and JJ’s hips thrust up in response.

"God, baby. That feels so good". Her hand tangled in the base of Emily's hair again but to keep her close this time. She didn't want the pleasure to stop.

Piercing dark eyes stared up at JJ as her clit was sucked her clit into Emily’s mouth. Without any warning, JJ came, the taste of her cum flooding Emily's mouth. The brunette agent guided her through her orgasm and then wiped her chin.

She stood up and they both got dressed.

"Feel any better baby?" Emily turned to face her girlfriend as she buttoned up her shirt.

"Yeah, I do thank you princess. Thank you for letting me top you for once". Emily let out a snort and smiled a little.

"Haha. I know. It might be the only time it happens unless you provide a very convincing argument. Yes?" She pulled JJ close to her to kiss her. They hadn’t done nearly enough of that today.

"Yeah. Okay. I’m happy to let you top me any day. Did you enjoy it though Em? That’s all that’s important to me". JJ swiped her finger over Emily’s lips and kissed her a few times before putting on her own clothes.

“Yeah. I did enjoy it actually. I thought I’d feel panicky and trapped but I didn’t so that’s good”. Emily smiled a little. She was unwilling to admit to JJ that she wanted to do it again soon.

“I’m so glad you did”.

Unsurprisingly, Emily let JJ top her a lot more often than she had previously. Top JJ was hot and Emily was only just starting to learn this.

[i-am-3mm3t]

▶️▶️

Chaos, everything was chaos, her station was flooded with grays and oranges and people shouting- The evacuation effort had failed horribly and Emily's team was now on its last legs- She could not let them take them, she couldn't-

A loud hiss caught her attention. Immediately her eyes darted to Ingo, across the station, surrounded, bristling with rage and defensive teeth. Luxa's flames blazed ferociously above him, and half the Pokemon around had been burned. Still, though. They could not risk the damage to their station. The trains were made for battling, not the loop that connected their stations.

People were panicking. Emily was panicking. Her smile was gone, her Pokemon exhausted, her stamina unfilled.

One of the Plasma grunts stepped forward.

Her eyes were on them, but also on the ones trying to take Tiny, the ones melting Coop's ice, the ones knocking Tick down- It was too much- She couldn't-

They jumped her.

The next few minutes were a haze for the Subway Boss in white. She felt hungry. Horribly hungry. Probably from all the electricity she was losing from her attacks. She needed that.

Ingo shouted, somewhere far away. Without having to check, she knew her Pokemon had all been returned and rushed the crowd without hesitation.

But her hat was gone, and the Everstone with it.