#badass in the most unhurried way

[diver5ion]

#ahsoka #ahsoka tano #badass in the most unhurried way #rosario dawson #fav #star wars #// #another day another show

[em-prentiss]

would you consider writing the end of season 7, but under the assumption hotchniss is already together? I always love how badass Emily was in those 2 episodes, but I also keep thinking about how Hotch would feel when she yanked her earpiece after he just got her back hehe, thank you!

Ohh, I love that idea!! Thank you so much for sharing your thoughts my love, I’ll definitely keep this in mind 🩷🩷

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oh can we just get a pause?(to be certain we'll be tall again)

He silently touches his fingertips to hers as they’re walking back outside, to what Emily feels like might be their doom. She can’t help it. She turns around to face him, not particularly caring who sees her grip the tips of his fingers. “Be careful,” she whispers. I love you.

His gaze is intense and his eyes dart over her face, as if committing it to memory. “You too.” I know. I love you too. 

------

Emily stretches lazily and sighs. Her body is delightfully sore from the events of last night and she turns to bury her face in Aaron’s warm neck. His heavy hand wraps around her waist and he holds her close. “Good morning.”

“No, I’m still asleep,” she mumbles. Aaron laughs lightly and presses gentle kisses to her shoulder, her skin warm from sleep and his own body heat.

“We have to make the most of today,” his hand lazily makes its way up her back, lingering on the pearls of her spine and tracing them with his rough fingertips. Goosebumps break out on her skin and he smiles sleepily.

“It’s our day off,” Emily whines, her eyes still closed. “Just let me sleep, Aaron.” Her words slur together and she burrows deeper into him, throwing her leg over his hip.

“Okay, Em. Just for a little bit,” he whispers. She hums in agreement and he kisses her forehead.

Emily falls back asleep easily but Aaron stays awake and watches her. She’d tell him off for it if she were awake but he can’t help it; she’s warm and soft in his arms, her hair in her face and her mouth hanging open as she breathes in and out. His fingers run soothingly over the smooth skin at the dip of her spine. Aaron closes his eyes and breathes her in, savoring doing nothing with her.

He doesn’t expect it but he falls asleep too, lulled by her warmth and soft breaths against his neck. Aaron doesn’t mind. It’s just after eight when he wakes up again, bright light streaming in through the windows.

She’s on her side and he’s wrapped around her, his chest against her back. “Em,” he whispers, his hand trailing softly down her side.

She stirs and buries her face in the pillow. Aaron kisses below her ear. “Emily,” his lips move to her jaw as his hands wander. 

“Hmm?” She says sleepily. Aaron laughs and presses his lips to her cheek. “Wake up, sweetheart. It’s past eight.”

“Still early,” she sighs as he eases her onto her back. Aaron props himself up on his elbow and softly brushes her hair away from her face. “Jack wants to go to the aquarium, remember?” He says quietly and she opens her eyes blearily.

“Oh, so you’ll wake up for him, huh?” He teases. Emily smiles lazily and rubs her eyes. “What can I say? He’s my favorite Hotchner.” She yawns.

“Breaking my heart so soon, Em?” Aaron asks disapprovingly, adjusting himself to hover over her. “We haven’t even been together a year.”

He leans down to kiss her jaw before sucking a bruise at the base of her neck, where he knows it’ll be hidden just under the hem of her shirt.

“This is nothing compared to before,” Emily sighs. “I used to be a real heartbreaker in my youth,” she teases and threads her fingers through his hair to keep him close.

The morning feels lazy and unhurried, time moving past as slowly as thick honey, and he savors every second with her. Aaron nips the skin of her collarbone, feeling her pulse stutter beneath his lips.

“But I’ll never break your heart,” she promises, her tone serious despite the thick sleepiness still in her voice.

“Yeah?” Aaron murmurs. Emily nods. “Take it back, then.” He smiles. “Say I’m your favorite.”

Emily laughs breathily and the sound goes straight to his heart. “Aaron,” she pushes away the strands that fall into his eyes, his hair mussed from sleep. “Yes, Emily?” He smiles, dimples deep in his cheeks.

She cups his face and pulls him closer. “You’re my favorite,” she tells him. “Favorite Hotchner,” she kisses his cheek. “Favorite boss,” her lips curve into a smile as she kisses his forehead. “I’m your only boss.” He murmurs, but she ignores him.

“Favorite person.” She kisses the corner of his lips, smiling when she hears his breathing hitch. Morning light peeking through the curtains paints her golden and in this moment he’s sure she’s the love of his life.

It feels like time has stopped. In this golden bubble, nothing exists but them. “I love you,” Aaron whispers. Emily looks up at him and smiles, the deep brown of her eyes lit up by the sun. She takes his breath away, so effortlessly. She links their fingers together and pulls him down into her.

“I love you too.” She says before she kisses him, long and slow and soft, as if she has nothing else to do in the world but this; kiss him, love him, cherish him. He eases his hand between their bodies, watches as her eyes flutter shut and she sighs, letting her head fall against the pillow with a smile. He keeps a slow, steady pace, enjoying the way she gasps and writhes as he builds her up. Aaron kisses her softly as she comes down from her high, stroking her skin soothingly as she catches her breath.

She’s just wrapping her legs around his waist when a sweet voice reaches them through the door. “Daddy? Emmy?” 

“Duty calls,” Emily gets up with a lazy smile, giving him a brief glimpse of her bare body before she slips on one of his shirts and pads over to unlock the door. “Emmy!” Jack beams. She smiles down at him.

Emily picks him up and cradles him to her chest. “Morning, sweetheart. Did you sleep well?” Her voice is like honey, warm and soothing, and Jack basks in it, melting into her embrace.

“Mhm,” Jack responds. Their soft voices drift away and Aaron’s head falls back against the headboard, a smile on his lips as he listens to his two favorite people in the world, his heart warm with contentment.

“Come on, Daddy!” Jack yells. “We want pancakes!”

Aaron chuckles and throws off the covers before heading off to the bathroom, his sweatpants low on his hips. By the time he goes to the kitchen he sees that Emily and Jack have so helpfully laid out the ingredients he needs, a routine they memorized after countless Saturdays spent this way.

Emily lifts Jack onto the counter and he cracks the eggs messily while Aaron measures the flour and heats up the pan. Once the batter is devoid of eggshells—courtesy of Emily—Aaron scoops it onto the griddle while Jack shifts restlessly between their feet. 

Emily laughs and ruffles his hair. “How about you set the table, little man?” She suggests, smiling when he takes the plates from her and shoots off to the dining table. “Carefully!” Aaron calls out and shakes his head at the sound of Jack’s feet pounding against the floor.

As Jack sets the table Emily sneaks up behind Aaron. “How much longer, Agent Hotchner?” She wraps her arms around his neck, stands on her tiptoes, and presses her lips to his warm skin.

“Not much, sweetheart.” He slides another finished pancake onto the growing pile next to him. “I—” he cuts off when he hears the loud growl of Emily’s stomach. Aaron laughs and turns around in her arms.

“What was that?” He teases, his hands sneaking under her—his—shirt and lightly palming her stomach. Emily flushes bright red and slaps his hands away. “It’s all your fault,” she buries her hot cheeks in her hands. “You wore me out.” She chides, peeking through her fingers to mock glare at him.

Aaron chuckles and kisses her forehead. “I didn’t hear you complaining,” he smirks into her skin. “In fact, you were saying something like God, Aar—”

“Daddy!” Jack runs back into the kitchen. Emily jumps away from Aaron as if she’s been burnt, running her fingers through her hair and chewing on her lips, her cheeks still flushed. “You’re taking too long,” Jack whines. Emily clears her throat and crosses her arms, “Yeah, Aaron, you’re taking too long.” She arches her brow.

“Someone’s distracting me,” he points the spatula at her and turns back to the pan. The remaining pancakes are darker than the rest and he suppresses a smile. They’ll definitely make him eat those.

Jack and Emily both cheer when he finally turns off the stove and carries their precarious stack of pancakes to the dining table. Jack chatters to them cheerfully as they eat, his excitement about going to the aquarium making him talk quickly.

“Buddy, you have to chew your food,” Aaron says when Jack shoves another bite in his mouth, uncaring to the one already in his mouth. Emily laughs and drenches her pancakes in more syrup as Aaron chides his son. His palm is warm on her bare thigh as he eats, his thumb stroking her skin, and Emily is sure she wants this every day, with them.

She kisses Aaron with syrup sweet lips and pulls him into the shower insistently. He washes her hair and trails his sudsy hands down her body, her giggles turned moans drowned out by the spray of the water. She lets him drag her out of the bathroom reluctantly but brightens when he says she can pick out his outfit.

Aaron laughs when she hands him the blue polo. “Again?” Emily shrugs, “It would be a crime to deprive myself of seeing you in it every chance I can. And I uphold the law very seriously.” He shakes his head and puts it on, hiding his smile when she sneaks looks at him while getting ready.

She’s just finished drying her hair when Aaron’s phone rings. Emily frowns as he picks it up. “Is that Strauss?” She wraps her arms around his neck and peers into his phone. “Tell her to fuck off.”

“Shh,” Aaron laughs and answers the call. “Hotchner.” His expression immediately turns serious and Emily withdraws her arms from his neck. “I’ll let the team know.” He hangs up and sighs heavily. 

Emily’s stomach sinks. “What now?”

****

He does it unconsciously, sending her with JJ and Reid to Quantico for victimology, his brain directing her to the safest path even though he knows he shouldn’t. He gives her a quick look before she goes, an imperceptible nod that tells her be careful, I love you. She nods back, her lips set in a firm line that lets him know how upset she is at the turn their morning took.

Aaron turns to the cameras. He observes the robbers, tries to analyze their body languages. The two men seem closer while the woman remains detached, and he puts Garcia to the task of finding a connection between them before listening in to the negotiations with Dave.

Garcia identifies the men as brothers but their partner remains a wildcard that JJ, Emily, and Reid try to profile. ��She’s sadistic. She gets off on her victims’ pain and the fear it incites in those around her.” Emily says.

“It also appears the king is in charge of the money-grabbing operation while the queen keeps track of time, making sure they’re in and out in two minutes.” Reid observes.

“She’s more in control of the operation than they let on.”

Their whole plan of turning the brothers against their partner depends on keeping the Jack alive, but that crumbles when he dies minutes later.

Aaron’s head is a jumble of thoughts. He ignores the director’s order of a full tactical assault along with the SWAT teams covering the building. “Reasoning with them is still our best option,” he insists, though he’s not quite sure how they’re going to do that with Chris’ brother dead.

He sees Garcia and briefly hopes she’s come with good news but that’s quickly squashed when she tells him of the media outlets and unidentified sources that have hacked into the surveillance feed inside the bank. Aaron sighs and wonders how the hell they’re going to get out of this.

Over at Quantico, Emily gets a call from Clyde Easter. “Hello?”

“Hi, darling, how are you doing?” His British lilt floods her ears and Emily finds her lips curling into a smile against her will.

“Well as can be expected, one of our unsubs is dead and the other is unstable and conspiring with a psychopath.” She retorts.

“I heard about that. Sorry I missed your funeral, by the way, I was held up in Prague,” he says conversationally. “So you’re not surprised?” Emily asks.

“Of course not,” he says cockily and she rolls her eyes, “keeping tabs on my former assets is a particular skill of mine.”

Emily huffs. “Okay, what can you tell me about my mystery woman?”

The new information about her only perplexes them more as they try to profile her past motives and match them with her current partnership to the Stratton brothers. They’re discussing the possible significance of her wanting to go to Chad when Emily calls Clyde again.

“They said they could fly themselves there. Nothing suggests that Chris would have that ability, so she must.” She tells him.

Clyde hums. “Well, unfortunately, Interpol doesn’t have many assets in that particular region in Africa.” Emily nods with a sigh, having already expected it. However, nothing could have prepared her for what he says next.

“Maybe that’s something that you could help me with when this is over,” he says lightly. Emily scoffs. “Work for Interpol again? That’ll be the day,” she dismisses him.

“Not work, darling. Run.” She pauses. “You see, I’ve been promoted, so the team’s yours whenever you want it.”

Her own team? Emily swallows. “It’s a hell of a time to bring that up.”

“Well, you know, in our line of work, there’s never a good time.” Bullshit, she thinks. “Think about it,” he prods, “please?”

She sighs, “You find me a connection I can use and maybe we’ll discuss it.” She hangs up, suddenly not wanting to hear any more of his lilting accent. She knows how slippery that accent can be, how convincing.

She needs to focus on the case. Her stomach drops when JJ and Reid throw her match expressions of concern, but she waves them away. Aaron calls then and she answers, “Yeah, Hotch?”

“You guys should come back, the female unsub wanted us here. She sent the 911 text.”

They head back down to the bank and she automatically scans the area for Aaron as she catches up with Morgan and Will, but he’s out of sight so she puts him out of her mind. “I feel like we’re one step behind,” Emily mutters. “What the hell is her endgame?”

Her question is partially answered when Dave comes out with news of a fourth unsub, this one exclusive to the female. Emily stands next to him as he calls the bank yet again and tries to get into Chris’ head, force a rift between the unsubs.

It backfires when he asks for Will. “I want to talk to the cop who shot my brother.” Emily’s stomach lurches at the words. She’s still frozen in shock when the unsub forces a hostage to pick up the phone and shoots him. 

She flinches and turns to Rossi, at a complete loss of what to do. “I’m gonna shoot another hostage every 60 seconds until you send in the cop.” 

Emily looks at Rossi and he nods, signaling for her to alert the team. She stands next to Aaron. “He’s threatening to shoot more hostages unless he has Will,” she says, and Will snaps. “Screw this, I’m going in.” He stands up.

“No you’re not,” Aaron says. “We are.” Emily turns to him in confusion. “What are you planning?” She whispers to him as they walk outside. SWAT agents line up in position.

“Hold her back,” he says grimly, his voice low. “Wha—”

Suddenly she hears JJ’s voice. “What’s he doing?” Emily follows her gaze to Will walking towards the bank. Oh, fuck. “No. No, no, no.” JJ mutters and lurches forward. Morgan holds her back, his arms tight around her waist as she thrashes against him.

“Let me go!” She yells, throwing her legs around. “Sorry, JJ,” he whispers and tightens his hold on her. Emily frantically holds at her arms as she screams. “Will! Will!” 

He doesn’t look back.

Aaron comes over to help them but she stops thrashing when Will enters the bank. Emily worries at her lips until three of the hostages come out, their heads ducked in fear. Her brief feeling of relief crumbles when she hears two gunshots. Her stomach drops as JJ falls against Morgan with a whimper, her hand slapped over her mouth.

Emily worries at her thumb as she looks at JJ, her expression scarily blank, her eyes bloodshot. The tension is thick in the air and she breaks it when she speaks. “Did you see where he was shot?” Her voice is low. When she’s met with silence she pushes again. “Is he alive or dead, Garcia?”

“I don’t know,” Garcia whispers. 

“He was wearing a vest,” Emily jumps in, desperately trying to console JJ. “He might be okay.”

JJ huffs bitterly. “Might be.” Her lip trembles and she stands up abruptly. “We need to get inside.”

Morgan holds her back gently. “JJ, it’s too risky. We don’t have eyes in there anymore.”

She ignores him and turns to Aaron. “Aaron,” her voice is desperate, thick with tears, and when he looks into her tear filled eyes his decision is made. They can’t play by the unsub’s rules any longer anyway. 

“Let’s go in.”

He silently touches his fingertips to hers as they’re walking back outside, to what Emily feels like might be their doom. She can’t help it. She turns around to face him, not particularly caring who sees her grip the tips of his fingers. “Be careful,” she whispers. I love you.

His gaze is intense and his eyes dart over her face, as if committing it to memory. “You too.” I know. I love you too. 

He keeps his eyes on her as she moves into position between two SWAT agents. She gives him a slight nod and he leans against the car in front of him, his gun pointed at the door as hostages pour out of the building.

“We’re going in.” Morgan says into his comms. Emily steels herself and walks between the SWAT agents, her gun steady in her hands. Aaron forces his gaze off her and onto the door in front of him, his heart in his throat.

Suddenly Dave’s voice reaches them through the comms. “Abort! Abort!” Aaron’s veins turn to ice. She’s already inside. 

What? Emily freezes. The heat hits her before her brain can catch up.

“Emily!” Aaron yells just as the glass shatters and he’s thrown backward. He groans when his head slams against the car behind him, his ears ringing. He takes a few moments to catch his breath before forcing himself on his feet.

He looks around and helps a crouched officer get up from the floor. JJ and Morgan are okay, he surveys frantically, Garcia and Dave were inside. That leaves her.

Aaron walks into the bank without second thought. “Emily?” He turns on his flashlight and searches through the rubble. He finds a body and lurches backward for a moment, scared it would be her. He staunches the sick relief he feels when his brain registers the woman’s darker complexion and leans down to press his fingers against her pulse. 

He hears the crunch of glass behind him and looks back to see JJ, her eyes wide and frantic. “Nothing,” he mutters, gesturing to the woman next to him. Aaron gets up.

“Emily?” He calls out again, his heart pounding against his ribcage. Answer me, sweetheart. He ventures deeper into the bank. “Emily!” He yells, his voice cracking.

“Over here!” She croaks out. God. He lurches forward before his knees could give out and follows the sound of her voice. Aaron exhales shakily when he catches sight of the bright red shirt he’d watched her pull on this morning, now stained with dirt.

“Are you okay?” He crouches down next to her, his eyes jumping over her desperately. Her bangs are disheveled and her face is sooty, but she’s alive.

“I’m fine,” she breathes, clutching his hand tightly and running her thumb over his pulse, as if she were the one needing reassurance that he was okay. “They were hiding back here,” she tilts her head to the couple next to her, her other hand held in the older woman’s.

Aaron startles slightly; he hadn’t seen them. “Can we move them?” He asks. Emily nods. “Yeah, with help. He’s unconscious.” She says.

“Just let me stay with him,” the woman croaks out softly. “Please.”

JJ appears behind them. “I can’t find Will, have you seen him?” She asks quietly. “He might be down below,” Emily tells her. She turns to the older woman. “We’re gonna get you out of here.” She reassures.

JJ hurries off without another word, Morgan on her heels. None of them spare Aaron a glance.

“He’s my love of 66 years. My story,” the woman says weakly. Emily runs her thumb over her knuckles and smiles softly, nodding in understanding despite her closed eyes.

Emily turns to Aaron and removes her hand from his grip to run it through his dusty hair. “Are you okay?” She whispers. Aaron nods and grips her waist. “I’m fine, Em.”

“What about your ear?” She asks worriedly, her hand cupping his previously injured ear. Aaron turns his head to kiss her palm. “I’m okay, sweetheart.”

She looks him over carefully and nods, her lip between her teeth. “You should go back,” she says, loathing to utter the words. “We’ll be fine here, just send a medic.”

He nods and squeezes her hand tightly. “I love you,” he whispers against her forehead. “I love you too,” she forces a smile and ignores the burning in her eyes as she watches him walk away. 

Aaron walks back outside, squinting his eyes against the sudden brightness. “Can you keep the media busy?” He asks Dave breathlessly when he approaches. Dave nods. “Is that all?”

“For now,” Aaron exhales. “You alright?” Dave asks him, and he nods. “Yeah, you?”

Dave nods too. “Do me a favor and have that ear looked at.”

Aaron ignores that and goes in search of a medic for Emily while Dave controls the press. He sighs in relief when he finally finds an EMT. “There’s an elderly couple in there, the male’s unconscious.” He tells the young man, who hurriedly grabs another medic and a stretcher. Aaron watches them go into the bank and turns to find Reid walking towards him. 

Whatever part of him hoping this would be a quick case was dead wrong.

****

They arrive at Union Station and split up. Emily keeps her hand on her gun as she climbs up the stairs. She unholsters it and scans the floor, relaxing the tiniest bit when Morgan announces he has the suspect through their comms.

“Copy,” Aaron replies as Emily walks forward, her gun steady until she finds Will, chained to a pole. “I found Will,” she says breathlessly.

“Is he mobile?” Aaron asks as she pulls on the chains. Emily shakes her head. “Negative,” she crouches down in front of him, heart catching in his throat when she sees the bombs on his chest. “He’s got six transmitters on him. This whole place is gonna blow.”

No. His whole body tenses. Aaron hears the slight tremble in her voice. “All right, where are you? I’m on my way.”

“No, you gotta get everyone out,” she refutes. Aaron closes his eyes in frustration and briefly curses her stubbornness. “Is the bomb squad here yet?” Emily forces herself to calm down and observes the mess on Will’s chest with careful eyes. 

“They’re three minutes away,” Aaron says. Emily closes her eyes for a moment. “Copy,” she bites out, the 2:45 seared into her brain. By the time she opens them again, 2:38 blinks up at her.

“Just get everybody out of here,” Will pleads desperately. “I’m not gonna leave you, just give me a minute.” She says firmly, her mind racing.

“Everything they did and said was about them,” she mutters. “Narcissists,” Will breathes. This is their story. Emily shakes her head, “Romantics.”

“They met in 2008,” she enters numbers into the phone, biting her lip when the timer buzzes warningly.

“What are you doing?” Will groans. “Seriously, Emily, go.” She shakes her head. “Go,” he insists.

“Will you shut up for a minute?” She snaps. “I’m trying to think.” This is all about them, their story. They met in Chad. “Okay, hold on,” she says. “Chad.” She types in the numbers, groaning when the timer buzzes again. 

“Fuck, dammit.” She whispers. Will is breathing heavily, his head ducked as sweat beads on his skin. “Okay, these are valentines for her,” she starts thinking out loud, “so a four letter word. Love, life, soul,” she says desperately, thoughts racing. 

“Izzy,” Will says breathlessly. “Her name is Izzy.” Emily looks at him and carefully inputs the numbers for her name. She gasps in relief when the timer stops and lights up green, but it’s short lived. A box with a thirty second timer pops open, three wires attached to it. “Fuck!”

“Prentiss, what’s your status?” Aaron’s voice reaches her ears. “Prentiss, do you copy?” He asks when she doesn’t reply. 

Emily tears out the comms from her ears. “Emily?” His blood goes cold when she doesn’t answer. She took off her earpiece.

“Emily!” Aaron yells into his comms. “God fucking damn it,” he breaks into a run, cutting across the street with no second thought to passing cars. 

The bomb hadn’t detonated, so why wasn’t she answering? She must’ve disabled it, right? He looks down at his watch. Three minutes are almost up. Thirty seconds left, Aaron thinks, dread flooding his body. No, no, no.

He bursts into the building again. “Emily!” He can’t lose her again, he’s only just got her back. His pulse beats frantically as he rushes up the stairs. “Hotch!” Morgan runs after him. “Stay here,” Aaron calls out to him over his shoulder.

“The storytelling’s in the details. Those wires mean something.” Emily’s eyes dart over them as she tries to connect them to Izzy’s story.

“Like what?” Will grunts, his face shiny with sweat.

“The colors of the flag of Chad,” her brain supplies. It’s the place they met, the place that brought them together. The beginning of their epic story. “Red, yellow, and blue,” she’s so thankful for her mother’s stupid geography lessons. “Only one is different from the US flag—yellow.”

She doesn’t allow herself to overthink it, grabs a pair of wire cutters and snips the yellow wire with three seconds on the timer. Will cries out when the countdown stops and Emily falls back onto her palms with a gasp, her heart pounding, her shirt stuck to her body with sweat.

“Oh, fuck,” she pants, drawing lungfuls of air into her mouth. She suddenly hears commotion in her comms and up the stairs. “Emily!” Aaron’s voice echoes off the walls. 

“Here!” She croaks out, her throat suddenly parched. She wants to stand up but she’s boneless, her palms behind her the only thing supporting her weight, her body limp with stress and relief.

“Aaron,” she breathes when she catches sight of him. He lets out a broken sound of relief when he finally sees her, slumped on the floor. “Emily,” he falls next to her onto the ground, his knees cracking painfully against the marble.

Aaron gathers her into his arms. “Don’t you ever do that again,” he chokes out. His arms are tight around her, uncomfortably so, but Emily has never been more glad for their warmth, their steadiness.

“You scared the shit out of me,” he says into her ashy hair, his eyes closed against the sudden tears that well. She’s so close to him he can feel her heart slam against her ribcage, their chests pressed together.

“I’m so sorry, baby, I had to,” she breathes into his neck. Emily goes limp in his arms, unwavering in her belief that he will hold her up.

“I knew y’all would get together,” Will drawls from his perch next to them, still chained to the pole. Aaron and Emily startle, having forgotten him momentarily in favor of each other.

Emily laughs breathlessly and extracts herself from Aaron’s arms to look at Will. He looks like shit, his face pale and sweaty, but he’s smirking at her smugly. “Jen owes me ten bucks.”

“Don’t make me regret saving you, LaMontagne,” she threatens emptily. “I only did it to spare myself the paperwork anyway.”

“Right,” Will drags out the syllables lazily. “As if the big boss man here wouldn’t have gotten rid of it for ya.”

Aaron looks at Emily as she smiles and rolls her eyes, wishing for nothing more than to have her back in his arms again. But Morgan appears then with an emergency responder, wire cutters in his hand, and Aaron knows he’ll have to wait.

By the time night has fallen and they’re finally home Emily’s exhausted. “So much for our day off,” she sighs and flops on the couch. Aaron is still standing and he holds his hand out for her to take. “C’mon, let’s shower and go to bed.”

“In bed by ten on my vacation,” Emily bemoans, reluctantly accepting his hand and letting him pull her up. “I’m expecting a week long break in compensation.”

Aaron scoffs and wraps his arm around her shoulders, leading her into the bathroom. “In your dreams.” 

He washes her hair, much as he had done that morning, but the both of them are too exhausted for anything else. Emily changes into her pajamas and snuggles into his arms under the covers, her hair wet and still tangled.

She finally relaxes for the first time since Aaron’s phone rang. “Hell of a day,” she says. Aaron just holds her close and stays silent. Emily turns to him with a frown, “Everything alright?” Her eyes take in his furrowed brows, “is your ear hurting?” She lightly touches it but he shakes his head.

“What is it, baby?” She asks when he buries his face in her collarbone. Emily runs her hand through his wet hair and waits for him to speak. His hands slide under her shirt and grasp at her warm skin desperately, feeling her body move with each exhale.

“You scared me today,” he confesses, his voice low. “When you took out your comms.” The fear still sticks to him, sliding under his skin and residing there for the past few hours, despite the fact that she was in his sight the whole time. His heart still beats nervously when he replays the scene in his mind.

“I thought I was going to lose you again,” he looks up at her, his eyes shiny with tears. “I didn’t know what was happening. I just kept waiting for the bomb to go off.” He closes his eyes.

Emily’s heart twists at his words. She gently wipes away the tears that slip past his closed lids and touches her forehead to his. “And yet you still came after me,” her voice is hushed, no reprimand in it despite the fact that she wants to shake him for what he did. But she’s sure he wants to do the exact same to her.

“You were in trouble,” he says, as if that explains it all. “I can take care of myself.” She says softly, her hand running through his hair and gripping the strands between her fingers.

“I know,” he breathes. “I know that, Emily. I couldn’t help myself,” he shakes his head. “I just got you back, sweetheart,” he carries her into his lap and holds her face in his palms. 

“God, Emily, I can’t lose you again,” he kisses her forehead. “You’re everything to me,” she clutches his shirt when she feels his tears fall onto her forehead. “Everything.” He rasps.

“You’re everything to me too,” she whispers and pulls back. His hands fall to her waist. “But honey, this is the job. It’s always going to be like this.” Emily gently wipes away the wetness under his eyes.

“You think I don’t hate it when you go into hostage situations on your own? Or when you walk into a house with a psychopath with no vest or gun,” she murmurs, her lips turning up into the slightest smile despite their grim conversation.

Aaron sighs heavily. “I know, Em.” He leans forward and buries his face in her neck. “I just really, really hate it sometimes.”

“Yeah,” she blows out a breath and holds him close, “I do too.”

“Promise me you’ll never do that again,” he mumbles. Emily pulls back and arches her brow. Aaron huffs. “At least for the next twenty four hours?”

Emily laughs. “I promise, Aaron. For the next twenty four hours.”

“Good,” he gathers her back into his arms and falls back onto the bed so they’re both laying down. “If we don’t go into work a year from now it’ll be too soon,” he grumbles as he throws the blanket over them both, trapping them under its warmth.

“Amen,” Emily yawns. “God, I’m so tired,” she throws her arm around his waist, her hand slipping under his shirt to touch his warm skin.

Aaron turns off his bedside lamp. “Sleep, sweetheart. We’ve got a wedding tomorrow.”

Emily smiles. “You make it sound like it’s ours,” she teases, but her heart skips a beat at the thought.

“That’ll come too,” he kisses her forehead. She turns her head to look up at him. “I love you, Aaron.”

“I love you too, Em.”

****

“Fuck you, Aaron.”

Emily sighs as she adds another dab of concealer to her neck, desperately trying to hide the bruise he’d sucked into her skin.

“What the hell were you thinking?” She mutters into her empty apartment, setting the concealer with loose powder. It’s definitely not better, but at least it’s not glaringly obvious from afar.

Emily grabs her shawl and purse and drives to Dave’s house, her stomach jittery with excitement for her friend. While she’s driving Clyde’s voice runs through her head, unbidden.

Emily sighs. She’d never entertained the idea of running her own team, always content with the thought of simply being an agent and not a Unit Chief, but now that the option is presented to her she hesitates.

She thinks of Aaron and how he deals with the stress of a higher position on top of the added pressure of being an agent. All the late nights he spends in his office, buried in files and paperwork, leaving hours after the rest of the team. The constant red tape and bureaucracy he has to deal with while solving cases, the never ending meetings he always has to attend.

The thought of running her own team and being the one calling the shots is tempting, but London? She’s only just settled back in, finally feeling at home in Aaron’s arms, after weeks of unrest and tension.

She’s still thinking about it as she parks her car and knocks on Dave’s door, but the sight of his beautifully decorated backyard is enough to push it out of her head, at least for now.

She chats with Morgan and comforts Penelope when she laments Kevin’s arrival with Gina. Emily looks up at the sound of footsteps and she lights up when Aaron walks in, Jack on his heels.

“Emily!” Jack runs to her excitedly, paying no mind to the confused look Morgan and Penelope exchange. Emily bends down to hug him tightly, “Hi sweetie. You look so handsome,” she adjusts his tie and smiles when he giggles. “Just like your dad.” Emily kisses Jack’s forehead and looks up at Aaron.

“Hey, Hotch,” she greets, her lips pressed together to hide her smirk. 

“Hi, Emily. You look beautiful,” his eyes rake over her frame, admiring her form fitting dress. She smiles when his tongue peeks out to wet his lips.

“Thank you. You look pretty good yourself,” she says easily. “Nice change from all those starched suits, isn’t it, Pen?” She turns to Penelope, who stares bewilderedly at her boldness.

“Certainly,” she stammers confusedly. “Dashing as ever, sir.”

Aaron smiles and thanks her, returning the compliment while Emily eyes the exposed skin of his throat with interest. Morgan bends down to face Jack. “They’ve got a cool looking fountain over there, Jack, wanna see?”

“Yeah!” Jack yells excitedly. “Is Henry here?” He asks Morgan as they walk outside. “He sure is,” they hear Morgan reply.

“We should go out too, we’re crowding the space.” Emily suggests as more people come in through the doors. Penelope abandons them in search of Reid, and Aaron and Emily finally get a moment to themselves.

They stand next to the refreshment table and Emily snakes one of her hands into the back pocket of Aaron’s jeans. He smirks down at her. “Are you trying to get us found out?”

“Maybe,” she blinks innocently up at him. “I almost got blown up yesterday, I think I deserve to be a little touchy with my boyfriend.”

Aaron glares at her. “Too soon?” Emily asks, and he shakes his head. “Way too fucking soon,” he grabs the drink from her hand and throws it back, ignoring her laughter.

She withdraws her hand when Will comes by, but not before he catches it with a smirk. They talk to him until JJ’s mom is announcing that she’s coming down, and they all gather around the altar for the ceremony.

Aaron stands closer to Emily than he should, his hand ghosting over her back. Jack stands between them and watches excitedly with Emily’s hands on his shoulders. He claps loudly when JJ and Will kiss and turns around to face them when everyone scatters.

“Daddy when are you and Emmy gonna do that?” He asks innocently. Emily’s cheeks turn red and she quickly whips her head around to make sure there aren’t any prying ears in sight. Aaron clears his throat and ruffles Jack’s hair.

“Well, I gotta ask her first to do that, and she has to say yes,” he tells his son. “If I asked, do you think she’ll say yes?”

“I think she’ll say yes.” Emily says quietly, her hands clenched together to stop herself from reaching for him. Aaron turns to her with a soft smile. “That’s good,” he murmurs. “Really, really good. I better ask soon then, don’t I?” He looks down at Jack, who nods happily. In his peripheral vision, he sees Emily’s head move up and down too.

They watch Will and JJ have their first dance from a distance, soft smiles on both their faces. When other couples join them on the dance floor Aaron turns to Emily, but is dismayed when he sees Morgan reaching for her.

Emily stifles her laugh as she takes Morgan’s hand. He sways them around expertly, dipping her dramatically and making her laugh as he whispers flirtations in her ears. 

“Slow your roll, hotshot,” she laughs, “I’m a taken woman.” The words fall from her lips before she can stop them, but Emily finds herself quite content with that.

He freezes in shock and his mouth drops open. “No way, princess,” he squeezes her hand and she giggles. “Way.”

“Who’s the lucky guy?” He prods. Emily shrugs and tips her head back, catching Aaron’s eye and winking at him. She’s grateful when Dave sweeps her away then, Morgan’s protests following her. “I’m not done with you yet!”

Aaron distracts himself with a another dance with Penelope to physically stop himself from reaching for her. The song ends quickly, Penelope’s chatter in his ears speeding up time, and Aaron rushes to her side.

“May I?” His large hand engulfs hers and she nods, smiling widely. Emily sways with him, her fingers laced with his and says, “Clyde offered me a position at Interpol. Unit Chief.”

Aaron stops in shock and she pushes him to start moving again. Emily leads while he regains control of himself. “What?” He splutters. “What did you say?”

“That I’d think about it,” she says lightly. “And have you?” His hand tightens around hers. Emily nods. “I have.”

She stays silent for a while before Aaron speaks. “You’re killing me, Emily. Just say it.”

She looks into his eyes and smiles. “I don’t want to leave, Aaron,” she whispers, and he sags in relief. “It’s an amazing position but,” she blows out a breath. “My home is with you and Jack now.”

“Don’t you want to try it out, though?” He prods. “I mean, Unit Chief,” he shakes his head in awe. “You’d be good at it,” he says honestly.

Emily blushes slightly. She’d always been a sucker for praise, especially when it came from him. “The politics would drive me crazy. And I’m not one for the cold,” she adds casually.

“Besides,” her eyes sparkle, “I’m waiting on a diamond ring from my boyfriend. I couldn’t possibly leave.” She winks at him. She looks so beautiful, the fairy lights above them melting into the dark sea of her hair, and he just can’t stop himself.

“I’m gonna kiss you right now,” he says quietly. Emily smiles. “Do it.”

Aaron grips her waist and pulls her closer, like he’s done a million times before. She’s still smiling as he presses his lips to hers, her palm steady on his cheek to keep him close when Penelope shrieks behind them.

“I’ll get to work on that ring situation,” he murmurs against her lips. Emily beams at him. “Don’t make me wait too long.”

Just five months later, he slips a gold ring on her finger and calls her his wife.

#hotchniss #hotchniss fanfiction #emily prentiss #aaron hotchner #criminal minds fanfiction

[rootingfordorks]

"Remember that little cafe we went to on our first date?" Rebecca asked Keeley, looking up from her phone. Keeley did the same. They were curled up at either end of the sofa, unwinding before bed.

"Of course I do, babe. You thought it would be 'good luck' because of how pink it is," Keeley said, overemphasizing the air quotes. "Like I wasn't already half in love with you by then."

Keeley's teasing smile was irresistible. Rebecca leaned over and kissed her gently. The best part of living together was getting to kiss her girlfriend any time she wanted. They kissed, unhurried and luxurious, until Keeley's curiosity got the best of her.

"What about the cafe, babe?"

"Oh, yes. It's for sale," Rebecca said. "Do you think I should buy it?"

Keeley stared at her partner in disbelief. Rebecca had a way of treating grand -- expensive -- gestures as though she was picking up a gallon of milk at the shop. Rebecca raised a perfect eyebrow.

"What would we do with a cafe?" Keeley asked. "You gonna put on a little apron and take orders at the register? Make people their lattes?" She giggled, warming to the vision. She sat up straighter, settling her shoulders back and chin up in an emphasized impression of Rebecca's most badass work persona.

"Welcome to Rebecca's," Keeley began. She lowered her voice and adopted a posh accent. "Our special today is a champagne pastry. What can I get started- eiee!" Keeley screeched when Rebecca reached over and tickled her.

To escape the tickling, Keeley wormed her way into Rebecca's lap. From within the circle of her arms, she would be safer. She kissed the soft skin of Rebecca's neck, further distraction.

"I do not intend to work at the cafe, darling," Rebecca said. "Nor change it substantially. Clearly it needs to become a bit more... solvent. Mainly, I thought it would be a shame for it to close entirely."

Keeley made a soft noise of assent, but didn't interrupt.

"Actually, it could be a lovely little spot for a new queer hangout, don't you think? Both as an alternative to the whole club scene, and a place for more feminine people to be seen and embraced. Especially women, because you don't have to be butch to be queer." She paused, thinking. "We could have themed events, trivia nights, drag brunch perhaps."

Keeley was already typing notes into her phone, adding her own ideas as she went. They leapt into brainstorming. Idea after idea poured out, was met with additions and suggestions.

"Babe, this is a fucking fantastic idea," Keeley said when they had finally run out of new ideas. She stood from the sofa and met Rebecca in the middle of the living room. "I love it. I love you."

Rebecca's gaze was adoring. Soft around the edges. Keeley rested her hand along Rebecca's neck, fingertips gently wrapping around to her nape. Scratching her nails lightly against Rebecca's scalp, Keeley drew her down into a kiss.

#rebecca welton #keeley jones #kebecca #rebecca/keeley #keeley/rebecca #or whatever their ship name is #fanfic #ted lasso tv #domestic fluff #this is just a snippet

[trensu]

Episode 19: The One with the Return of the Gay Yearning Death Grip, Now with More Sword!

After enduring EXTREME EMOTIONAL TRAUMA for the last THREE (3) EPISODES IN A ROW, we finally finally get an episode that has some wangxiantics again!!

I mean, they’re still gonna gut us emotionally here too but we can pretend it hurts less because of our brief wangxian moments!!!

Because this is the episode with the BURIAL MOUNDS

*cries*

Alright so golden core transfer Happened. 

Review: wwx is now weaponless, penniless, golden core-less, and alone

Except jk, he’s actually surrounded by wen flunkies, so not alone! Worse than alone!!

And we all know our beloved wwx has the survival instincts of a lemming so instead of you know, keeping his mouth shut for once in his life, he decides to mock and insult wen chao and his flunkies.

WC decides to take wwx on Evil Field Trip Part 2: Burial Mounds Edition and has wen zhuliu freaking drop-kick wwx into the cursed place

Oh, hello, Bad CGI, nice to see you again!

And here we have the Return of the Screams bc apparently wwx decided to keep the Screaming Sword of Resentment in his magic pouch??

Good thing he did, i guess?? Bc the Screams summon up some resentful energy that helps him survive the fall

We cut away a moment here to see our beloved wen sibs and we are sad bc they are locked up MOVING ON

Wwx is all alone in this awful place covered in dead things and lacking sunlight, THE EXACT OPPOSITE OF OUR PRECIOUS, LIVELY, SUNSHINE BOY

It’s terrible but we’re getting a piece of wangxian pie here (a tiny one)

So the Screams are still happening, and our wwx is collapsed on the ground not responding to any of them.

They’re all shouting “wei wuxian, wei wuxian” 

And still our precious sunshine boy lies there limp and exhausted

BUT SUDDENLY

AMIDST ALL THE SHOUTS

We hear a calm,soothing voice call “wei ying”

Wwx finally moves. He sits up and starts looking around for the source of that voice

BECAUSE THAT WAS LAN ZHAN’S VOICE

THAT WAS LAN ZHAN’S VOICE GENTLY CALLING “WEI YING” THREE TIMES

THREE!!! TIMES!!!!

And it’s so sad bc for a moment there wwx hears the voice and must think that lwj is there with him, there to rescue him!!

But he isn’t *cries* he’s not there and wwx just looks so lost and scared here *cries HARDER*

Instead of lwj, wwx finds the Screaming Sword of Resentment that legit says to him, “wwx, do you want revenge? Let’s be together.”

And, idk guys, swords that talk to you about revenge don’t seem like, the kind of swords you wanna be touching.

But wwx decides to become besties with it, i guess, and grabs it. 

The look of triumph on his face after he accepts the swords offer is really cool if you ignore how UTTERLY DISTRESSING the whole situation is

AND HERE’S THE SCENE WHERE LWJ MAKES THE MOST BADASS ENTRANCE.

YOU THOUGHT THE THING WITH THE ROOFTOP BACK IN "THE ONE WITH THE ICONIC REUNION” WAS COOL?? THIS ONE TOPS IT.

To set the scene: we’re at Qishan where Evil Summer School took place and a bunch of wen flunkies are getting drunk and bragging about their evil deeds bc why not

And then we get a shot of white shoes (boots?? Idk) slowly walking up the steps of the evil staircase

And then the camera gives us a shot at the top of the staircase and we see LWJ clad in all white in a bitchin’ new robe, slowly appear into view, rising a little more with each step he takes up the stairs and the wind is providing ambiance by swishing elegantly through his hair

As that is happening, we see the blue flash of power that shows up whenever lwj uses his guqin and it knocks the wen flunkies down on their backs BC FUCK YOU WEN FLUNKIES

We go back to lwj, and get a closer look at his face. His face is blank and hard as a stone, and he keeps going at this unhurried, unbothered pace

Bc he knows

HE KNOWS

He’s gonna get what he wants here and now, one way or another. And what he wants is information about wei ying.

CHILLS, GUYS, THIS SCENE GIVES ME CHILLS IN THE BEST WAY

THE MOST BADASS ENTRANCE IN THE SHOW

I LOVE IT SO MUCH

So after he guqin’s the wen flunkies down (and they start cowering) he towers over them all imperiously

Lwj: Kneel

(so commanding, his tone. I know at least some of you guys Felt Things at that)

(guys, I've been on ao3, I'VE SEEN YOUR TAGS, don’t try to deny it, you kinky bastards)

(It's okay, this is a no judgement zone, and lwj is looking hella sharp in his new outfit, I get it)

Lwj: where is wei ying

(so unyielding, so demanding, but not once does he raise his voice, what a BAMF)

The wen flunkie that lwj had been kinda choking with guqin magic raises his hand (lol, this isn’t a classroom pal)

Lwj: Speak.

And the wen flunkie informs him (and JC, who showed up at some point but whatev) that they dumped WWX in the Burial Mounds

Lwj, our precious darling lwj, we know he doesn’t have the most expressive of faces, right? But the way his face tilts ever so slightly downwards at the news, you can tell, you can tell, that he was hit with that sick, cold, sinking feeling in the stomach

Kneel. Where is Wei Ying. Speak. THAT'S ALL HE SAID IN THE WHOLE SCENE AND YET HE HAD EVERYONE CAPTIVATED (and Thirsty, in some cases, it's all good, it's all good)

After all that awesome, we are forced to watch wc and jj have a domestic spat of some sort AS IF WE’RE SUPPOSED TO CARE. WE’RE GONNA IGNORE IT BC FUCK THOSE GUYS

We’re back at Evil Summer School in Qishan, and we’ve got JC and LWJ doing that thing where they stare manfully at the mid-distance and talk about vaguely Feelings-related Stuff

WuJi starts playing in the background as JC tells LWJ about how WWX was supposed to meet up with him at Yiling and never showed up; i thought he went after you, he says, but maybe the wens really did dump him in the burial mounds

And the music freaking crescendos here bc some lan disciples show up with everyone’s swords but most importantly THEY HAVE SUIBIAN which they bring to lwj directly

Makes you wonder, huh. Why did they bring suibian to lwj when jc, wwx’s brother, was right there??

PROBS BC THE LAN DISCIPLES HAVE BEEN WITH LWJ AND JC THE WHOLE TIME AND REALIZED THAT LWJ IS IN LOVE WITH WWX BC WHY ELSE WOULD HE BE SEARCHING SO OBSESSIVELY

LWJ’s eyes widen just a fraction the minute he sees suibian

HIS SOULMATE’S SWORD

IT’S ALL HE HAS LEFT OF WEI YING RIGHT NOW

JUST LIKE BEFORE WHEN ALL HE HAD LEFT OF HIS HOME WAS BICHEN

STOP LEAVING LWJ WITH JUST SWORDS, LET HIM HAVE HIS LOVED ONES!!!

And god the way he GRIPS it with YEARNING.

All of his motions are still very sedate, but just the microexpressions we’re getting from him change the tone of the movements

Wang yibo - guys, idk much about any of the actors but this guy does a great job. Like, how does he make such emotional expressions when his actual face hardly moves??? WITCHCRAFT, I TELL YOU, WITCHCRAFT

Lwj tries to unsheathe the sword but here we find the Suibian has sealed itself (bc he’s a loyal sword; he aint cheating on his master with no one!)

Lwj: wei ying, where are you

Such quality Lwj Yearning™

And then we get interrupted by Plot Things again, ugh

Blah blah we’re at qinghe blah blah we meet jzx's asshole cousin and hate him blah blah

Lwj and JC show up at qinghe and interrupt jzx’s Disaster Het shenanigans (thank god)

Jiang sibs have a reunion while jzx and lwj stand awkwardly at the side

Lwj sees that display of Emotion and is like, nope, that is Too Much, i’m gonna distract myself by staring at this disembodied head hanging at the entrance

(he’s already in emotional turmoil bc his soulmate is missing, he cannot handle anything more than that!!)

Idk why by jzx decides to join him

Jzx: hey, that’s wwx’s sword! Did you…

Lwj: *Death Grips bichen AND suibian with Extra Yearning™*  

Lwj: evil summer school has been burned

SUBTLE CHANGE OF TOPIC THERE, LWJ

Also, c’mon jzx, LWJ IS NOT HERE TO TALK ABOUT OR ACKNOWLEDGE ANY MORE FEELINGS RIGHT NOW OKAY

Jzx goes off to talk about something unimportant and lwj is like phew, dodged a bullet there

Except, JUST KIDDING

Jzx: soooo, where’s wwx? I need to return his sister to him

Lwj: *stoically silent*

Lwj: *refuses to look at jzx*

Lwj: *gives off major I DON’T WANT TO TALK ABOUT IT vibes*

Jzx: *doesn’t take a hint*

Jzx: yeah, so where is he??

READ THE ROOM, JZX

Idiots, we’re surrounded by emotionally incompetent idiots

Lwj doesn’t react until he hears jyl softly gasp when jc updates her and even then, it’s only to just briefly glance in her general direction

OUR BOY IS HURTING, POOR LWJ

And now we’re back to Plot Things

Blah blah battle strategy blah blah nmj looks imposing blah blah baxia does a thing blah blah

Jzx: yeah, so we’re doing great, we just gotta take back gusu and yiling now

Lwj: I volunteer AS TRIBUTE for the mission in Yiling

Jc: dude, SAME, plz red blade master, let us go there

Nmj: uh, idk guys, that’s right next to the wen’s stronghold…

Lwj; red blade master…

Nmj: yeah, okay, fine

Wow, capitulated pretty easily there, pal. Thought you were supposed to be a tough guy, nmj…

We get a jiang sib moment

With soup, ofc

Ooooh, now we get to watch jj have a mental break AND IT’S GLORIOUS

Disembodied eyeballs!! How fun!

And that’s the end of that episode!!

Oh god, i’m so glad we finally got some wangxiantics. Like, not a lot of them, and they didn’t share screentime BUT THEY WERE STILL VERY EMOTIONAL WANGXIANTICS

THEY MISS EACH OTHER SO MUCH *SOBS*

Return to Masterpost

#WangXiantics #wangxian #the untamed #cql

[jamesfuckyeahspader]

https://fashionista.com/2016/01/james-spader-blacklist-style  ----- 

 HOW JAMES SPADER HELPED ME OVERCOME MY FEAR OF PAIRING FORMAL CLOTHING WITH A PARKA

I love "The Blacklist." It's best in class within the genre of cheesy procedurals driven by a lead character who is fallible yet blessed with talents so fine that viewers can rest easy knowing they'll be played as a trump card at the end of each episode. It follows a most-wanted fugitive and international criminal, Raymond Reddington, played by eternal dreamboat James Spader, who turns himself in to the FBI and becomes an informant, under the mysterious condition that he work with one agent only, a rookie who just started on the job. "What is their relationship? Is she his daughter?" literally everyone on the show wonders. We still don't know for sure,  I've given up hope that the writers know where they're going with this, honestly.

I mostly watch the show for Spader's performance, hoping that through observation I'll learn to channel the confidence of a crafty white man in his mid-50s. Nobody does self-assurance like Spader on that show. He's unhurried, he's cheeky, he's in control; he regularly wears a fedora, and you don't feel weird about it for a second. If James Spader the actor wore a fedora out in public (and he has), you might be like, "Spader, man, maybe don't? You already look cool in the sunglasses." But James Spader's character wears a fedora, and you think to yourself, "That must be a very expensive fedora."

It's amazing what conviction can do to cast new light on a situation. And so it's thanks to Spader's extreme self-possession that I dissolved one of my biggest and most first world fashion concerns: That wearing a winter-proof, somewhat bulky parka over nice work clothes looks weird, and that I should be wearing a slim, technically "stylish" coat instead, especially to industry events like Fashion Week.

Operating according to a theory that dressing more nicely would be good for my professional life, I'd sworn earlier this winter to sub out my usual jeans, sweatshirts and black Timberlands for more formal clothing at least a few days a week. Put on a loose silk button-down. Maybe wear some heels. The bar was exceedingly low and required basically no effort to clear, but doubts crept in when I had to put on my coat and walk out the door. I didn't own an attractive wool coat, didn't want to spend money on one and knew from experience that a trendy option from Zara wasn't going to keep me warm enough. Though my dark gray North Face parka paired easily with jeans, it seemed discordant and too athletic on top of navy trousers and a pair of leather ankle boots. I felt like I was half-assing the "dressing like a professional" thing when I wanted to go all in, ass-wise. Was this really better than wearing a more casual but aesthetically cohesive outfit?

Luckily I went on a "Blacklist" spree one Wednesday night, because it opened me up to the possibility that intermingling dress clothing with a parka is not only fine, but kind of badass.

On the show, Spader's character is a master of stylish functionality. In a recent episode, we learned by way of a small plot point that he rents storage units all across the U.S. to fill with useful items should he be in the neighborhood and in need. Among the more practical things a freewheeling criminal might want in a pinch (arms, motorcycles, a suitcase full of stolen cocaine), one locker hosts a refrigerator filled with his favorite Italian beef. You know, 'cause why not? It's a good analog to Reddington's personal style, which equally prioritizes panache and practicality. He usually wears a suit and tie — with a vest, which is so old school it sets your heart aflutter — but when he has to fly off to Russia or spend some time outdoors in wintry New England, he busts out a dark parka with a furry hood and doesn't think twice about it, because he is not fucking around with the cold.

Yes, we're talking about a nice, expensive jacket here (Moncler or equivalent), but no matter how you cut it, parkas are sporty. They're not the chicest. It works, though, even with the dress pants and the dress shoes and the fedora that gets a pass when it really shouldn't, because James Spader has applied his James Spader confidence to the situation, and you just don't doubt James Spader, with his rich, gravelly man voice. And even if you did, do you actually think he cares? His job — his character's job; I'm just going to keep wildly conflating the two — is to extract favors from criminal acquaintances and get into a shootout at least twice an episode. Our guy wants no chinks in his armor. Feeling chilly makes you feel vulnerable, and vulnerability is bad for business. I mean, would James Spader even be James Spader if he sacrificed his bodily comfort and mental fortitude for a marginal fashion gain? Don't think too hard about it. James Spader would not.

All this got me thinking about whether there's any material difference between James Spader the "Blacklist" actor and you or me, going about our jobs, writing about fashion or tinkering away on a line of code or serving up expert latte art. We're all people, trying to get shit done and keep warm when the wind threatens to rip through our outer defenses. Grab your parka, and get to work.

[stillthewordgirl]

Fic: Interrupted

Finally! For the Snart Lives!/F*** Destiny project.

Leonard has been saved from the time stream, about a year after the Oculus explosion. But will he and Sara ever get a bit of time alone together? A story in five short parts (all posted)

So many thanks to all the wonderful people who’ve taken part in this! Snart lives!

Many, many thanks to @larielromeniel, the most awesome beta reader, who cleaned up a story that had been written and “edited” far too quickly. :)

Steamy but not quite smutty, I’d say. Can also be read here at AO3 and here at FF.net.

The first time they're interrupted, it's only been a day or two since they plucked Leonard from the time stream, where he'd been swept in the wake of the Oculus explosion and held in a sort of suspended animation. Gideon, with a tone of surprise, has pronounced him fit and well, and although Amaya and Nate are still looking at him out of the corners of their eyes, most everyone agrees that he's back on the team.

Sara's escorted him to his new room and, trying to remain captain-like and purposeful, is telling him about the new system of kitchen duty on the ship—a practical detail that keeps getting derailed by the look in Leonard's eyes. Her businesslike lecture eventually grows slower and slower, his responses vaguer and vaguer, until they're both just standing there staring at each other.

He moves slowly enough, eyes on hers, that there's no doubt what his plan is, plenty of time for her to respond with another retort and depart, leaving no doubt about her feelings.

She doesn't. She meets direct blue eyes, and licks her lips, and then she's being pulled into his arms and kissed. By her crook. Who's one hell of a thief, after all.

It's not much more than a warm touch of lips, the slightly awkward bump of noses, the taste of mint and the briefest promise of something deeper and more satisfying, when Gideon breaks in with an apologetic reminder that she needs Sara's input to set the coordinates to their next destination. They break apart with regret, but smiles on both their faces, and both of them know that they'll pick this up again later.

Whenever "later" comes.

The second time they're interrupted, it's nearly two weeks later.

Life being what it is for the Legends, the team's been busy. Sara's captain now, and she has a whole new set of duties and possible distractions. She's tracking aberrations and planning operations, and there are nights she can't manage much more than to make it back to her room and collapse on the bed. (And it doesn't help that the rest of the team doesn't seem to think that captains need privacy.)

Leonard's been submitting with ill grace to a set of tests by Stein and Ray, who are fascinated at the notion that someone could survive in the time stream. And he's dealing with Mick, who's not at all interested at this point in going back to their earlier dynamic (fine, because neither is Leonard) but is oddly determined to make sure his friend and former "boss" fits back in with the team. That leads to a number of awkward dinners with Amaya Jiwe, and belatedly to Leonard finding out about his past self and the Legion.

He... has some trouble with that, not the least of which is that he doesn't remember a goddamned thing about it. And he really doesn't like that Amaya, who seems to mean something to Mick, keeps looking at him like he's going to attack her at any given moment.

Like he's his father.

It's not Leonard's way to pussyfoot around... well, anyone, really... but for Mick, he tries. He's really rather sincerely interested in Amaya's background with the Justice Society and her general badass-ery, and that makes it easier to turn on the charm. But she keeps giving him that look, and in frustration the snark edges back into his voice, and the whole thing goes downhill from there.

Annoyed, disgusted with himself... especially his past self... he stalks back to his room, fuming and wondering if he's ever going to truly make this work.

And there, he finds Sara, waiting for him.

He stares at her a long moment; she holds up a bottle of Scotch and a pair of glasses with a grin. But the smile slowly slips away, turns into something a bit more intense, as he takes one step toward her, then another, and she set the glasses and booze down a few seconds before he finally reaches her and they crash together in their third kiss since that fateful day at the Oculus.

It's messy and passionate, utterly unlike the goodbye of their first kiss and the promise of their second. Len's hands are tangled deep in Sara's hair; her nails are digging into his scalp, fingers flexing as they mutually deepen the kiss. After a minute or an hour, she breaks away with a noise of frustration at the height difference; he responds by boosting her up against the edge of the bed and going in for another kiss. She gives in to a very long-standing impulse and shoves her hands into the back pockets of those damned skinny jeans, pulling him closer even as she tucks her knees around his hips, appreciating the almost-growl he makes as the last iota of space between them vanishes.

In reality, they get maybe a few minutes. Then the spell is shattered as Mick—damn him—pounds on the door, bellowing for Snart and demanding to know what he'd done to upset Amaya. And Mick, they both know, will not accept silence or excuses as answer.

They break apart with regret, again; lips swollen, Sara's hair mussed and both of them breathing heavily. Len shouts for a moment's grace, thinks regretfully about a cold shower; Sara twists her hair back in a knot and smirks at him, just a little. She whispers in his ear before he opens the door; he nods seconds before she slips out, stepping around their teammate with a nod. Mick blinks at them, surprised but patently unfooled, even as he chooses to not pursue it at the moment.

Sara makes her escape; Len turns to face his friend. And while it might not have been the evening he'd hoped for a few moments ago, at least they manage to hash some things out before they go their separate ways that night.

Sara and Leonard don't get interrupted again for another few weeks. They don't have an opportunity to be.

Oh, the attempt is there; the whispered plot to meet the next night in Leonard's room, to continue the activities Mick had so rudely interrupted. Life, and the next mission, have other plans.

Leonard doesn't mean to play the hero again; frankly, it's the furthest thing from his thoughts. But the next mission takes them all to Los Angeles in the early '90s, and there's a kid to be protected for reasons Gideon won't fully tell them; a scrawny, snarky, troublesome boy that reminds one Leonard Snart uncomfortably of himself.

And when the assassin sent to kill the kid ambushes them, he reacts without thinking, really. He dives in front of the boy, firing as he goes, cold gun set to its maximum level and right on target even as the man raises his gun.

The bullet catches him in the hip; he hits the ground hard, pain exploding not only from the wound but from his head too, as his skull slams into the concrete. Unconsciousness comes, however, only after he sees the satisfying sight of the iced-over figure shattering in front of him.

And then he wakes up hours later in the Waverider's medbay, with Sara glaring at him, arms folded. She's far scarier than the other assassin, and hopped up on Gideon's good painkillers, he happily tells her so.

Which might not have been a good idea.

He's fortunate. Gideon, with many pithy comments and remarkable sarcasm for an AI, is able to repair his shattered hip and help the concussion on the way to healing. Still, he's under strict bed rest until she's sure everything has fully knitted—and that means no physical activity.

At first, the prospect of a Leonard Snart stuck in bed and unable to move has Sara smirking meaningfully at him, until Gideon repeats the no physical activity part with arch emphasis.

The next 10 days pass... slowly. Very slowly. Len's off bed rest after five, but Gideon doesn't lift the full restrictions for another handful of days, when her scans show everything is back to normal, such as it is.

Sara's there with him when that happens, but they very carefully don't look at each other as they leave the medbay and head toward his room. Len keeps his saunter unhurried; Sara strolls along next to him as if she hasn't a care in the world. They make it to the room without a crisis interrupting them, and she follows him inside without a word spoken.

This time, some of their clothing actually makes it to the floor. Sara's eyes don't leave Len's as she slowly runs her hands up under his shirt, starts to peel it off, biting her lip as she feels the scars she's always known were there. He just watches her with that intent expression, finally ducking his head to help as she eases the black fabric armor over his shoulders and flings it behind her, moving her fingers to trail slowly down his chest.

He takes a deep breath as he moves his hands to her waist, then up under her own shirt, calloused fingertips gentle on soft skin. Sara hums as she closes her eyes, then opens them to grin at him as her shirt joins his on the floor and they both move forward to find out, finally, how his skin feels against hers.

They make it to the bed, eventually, and she's straddling him, moving against him just a little despite the clothing that's still in place, gasping as his mouth traces her collarbone, and those sensitive fingertips move to her back, tracing a line just under the bra she's somehow retained, both of them so thoroughly distracted and distracted that they don't even hear the chaos outside the room until...

...they both jump as Nate's voice blares over the ship's comms, freaking out because the cargo bay's on fire and Mick what did you do, and Mick is responding that it's not his fault, damnit, and Stein and Jax are apologetically saying that just maybe transmutation practice got out of hand and the fire extinguishers aren't working on the blaze and...

They're both clothed by the time they leave the room, Len with cold gun in hand for extinguishing purposes, and utterly businesslike by the time they encounter the others. And by the time the chaos has subsided, Gideon announces that they're ready to emerge from the time stream at their next destination.

And any further exploration will have to wait, again.

They're separated on the next mission. And that's fine; it's not like they're joined at the hip, not like they're anything official, really. The team doesn't even know about what's been smoldering there, although Mick certainly has an idea.

And it's not like they've had much of a chance to talk about it. Or taken the time to talk when they do.

There's a heist to be planned in the city, so that's Len's focus this time. Sara, in the meantime, is the obvious leader for a portion of the mission that involves rescuing a young woman from a band of rebels who've taken her into the hills. They don't get to do more than exchange a heated glance, a murmured rejoinder to take care, before they part.

They don't see each other again for weeks.

When the two groups meet again. Sara's battered and weary and has a new scar on her cheek (from the young woman, an incipient badass who really didn't want to be rescued). And Leonard's nerves are still jangling from the very tough but ultimately satisfying heist of an artifact out of time.

They stand there and grin at each other as the rest of the team greets each other around them, finally remembering to act like nothing more than crook and captain and exchanging nods as they all head back to the ship.

Once they're safely in the time stream with nowhere in particular to go, Sara heads toward her room with the rejoinder that she needs to sleep for a month and strict orders for Gideon not to bother her except in the case of an emergency. No one seems to notice when an equally weary Leonard follows her there—or sees when Sara meets him at the door, grabbing the front of his jacket and dragging him inside.

It's been the longest time they've been apart since his rescue from the Oculus; neither of them wants to waste more time. Things progress quite satisfyingly, really, and clothing soon litters the floor, and the desk, and in the case of Sara's underwear, the weapons rack.

Sara's lying back against the pillows, panting, eyes closed and hair tangled around her head. She's been muffling her own cries against her wrist; both of them know, from the Kendra-and-Ray days, that the soundproofing on the Waverider is not the greatest. Leonard doesn't bother to wipe the smug smirk from his face as he presses a kiss to the inside of her thigh before dragging himself back up to lie beside her. He's been waiting a long time to steal a lot more than a kiss, after all, and he's not about to apologize for eliciting that reaction.

Sara, opening her eyes, rolls them at his expression, then reaches out to trace the largest scar on his shoulder again, her own expression growing serious. Leonard's smirk fades, too, at the look in her eyes, and the way her fingers slowly move over to his side and down around to his back. After a moment, he moves even closer, propping himself up on an elbow over her, other hand rising to trace her cheekbone. Sara moves her hands to trail down his bare spine, licking her lips as she pulls him closer, shifting her hips as their eyes meet in agreement...

And the ship jolts alarmingly as something jars against it, then again even harder. And all the alarms start blaring and Gideon announces that they're under attack and Mick comes on the comms to yell, amidst a remarkable flurry of profanity, that they've been found by time pirates.

Len's barely managed to keep himself from falling off the bed, but the whole situation's a little bit of a … well, "buzzkill" doesn't even begin to cover it. He's impressed, though, as Sara proves that her command of profanity is even more impressive than Mick's, at least in the breadth of languages at her disposal. They struggle up together to get at least vaguely presentable (and make what they'd been doing... or at least trying to do... a little obvious) before running out the door toward the bridge.

Between the Waverider's weaponry and Sara's fancy flying, they convince the time pirates that they'd be better off seeking easier prey. It's at least partly bluff, though, and as soon as they're gone, Sara's forced to take them out of the temporal zone and down in 2000, in what Rip would have euphemistically called a "controlled landing" but she bluntly calls "a crash."

Fortunately, the only injuries are bumps and bruises. Fortunately, they have the supplies they need to make repairs.

Unfortunately, no one on the ship is likely to get any rest or relaxation... or anything else, Leonard thinks with a sigh... in the near future.

It takes a few weeks to get the Waverider fully repaired—and, although Sara'd tried toaim for the middle of nowhere, to deal with the aberration they'd unintentionally caused when a young astronomer saw the ship plummeting from the sky with her telescope.

They all meet on the bridge when it's time to depart, but Sara's not there. After a few minutes, Mick, frowning, starts to ask Gideon where she is... when the captain herself emerges from the corridor to the crew quarters, bag slung over her shoulder and a determined look on her face.

She informs Mick that he's in charge for the next few days (Stein protests faintly in the background) but that he should listen to Amaya, and then turns to regard the crook who's just then straightened from his customary lean against a jump chair. In two steps, she's taken a grip on the lapels of his coat, and starts pulling him toward the jump ship without a background glance at the crew.

Len, though, can't resist taking that glance. Mick looks smug. Amaya looks pleased. Jax, though smiling, looks a touch... disappointed? Ray and Nate seems to be a mix of surprised and baffled; Stein... well, much to Len's surprise, Stein looks sort of smug, too.

He'll find out later about the crew's betting pool on when Sara would snap and drag him off. The old man had just cleaned up.

***

Sara keeps them in 2000, but takes them to Cataract City, once known as one of the honeymoon capitals of the world.

She's prepared: Gideon-produced cash gets them a penthouse suite at the nicest of the local hotels. Len just keeps his mouth shut, smirking, as the manager tries to recommend seeing the sights and gets thoroughly shut down by a patented Sara Lance glare. Finally, the man just hands off the room service menu and scuttles off.

The elevator is empty except for the two of them, and there's a special key for the penthouse. Sara jams it in the mechanism, drops her bag, and turns to shove him back against the wall with what could, to his amusement, almost be called a growl.

They're in thorough disarray by the time they reach the top floor, and as the door opens, Len stops trying his best to leave a new mark on Sara's throat and wraps his arms around her so she can hook her legs around his waist. He pauses only to push the bag out of the elevator with a foot, then carries her out into the suite, past the amazing view and the classy décor, toward the room with the king-sized bed.

And no one, and nothing, not well-meaning teammates nor time pirates nor helpful AIs- interrupts them this time.

Afterward, drenched in sweat but satisfied, lying still skin-to-skin and tangled amidst the sheets, Sara lifts her head and meets his eyes. Len brushes a tendril of hair off her forehead and traces a fingertip down her jaw.

And together, they both breathe the word that's on both their minds.

"Finally."

#captain canary #snart lives #fuck destiny

[drreidreads-blog]

Two’s a Crowd, Three’s a Company

Emily x Reader One Shot, slight Spencer x Reader, slight Spencer x Reader x Emily

Warning: (Vague-ish) Smut

Word Count: 2131

Prompt: hi! i love your writing and i was wondering if i could request a thing where emily and the reader are "friends w benefits" or something to that effect and spencer walks in on them making out or something at the bau after they think everyone's gone home and they ask him to join?

A/N: I dedicate this piece to the light of my life, woman of my dreams, and only person I’d allow to hold me at gunpoint - Unit Chief, Emily Prentiss.

Summary: A little after-hours fun...

You knew you were in trouble the moment that citrusy perfume wafted into the break room, even managing to cut through the strong smell of coffee that always lingered in there. Her pace was slow - you could clearly picture her casual saunter even though your back was turned towards the door. If anything, the unhurried pace made your heart race even quicker.

You raised your mug to your lips, jolting slightly as her hands settled onto the curves of your hips. A shiver ran down your spine as she toyed with the hem of your blouse, fingers occasionally slipping underneath the fabric to caress bare skin. You could feel her warm breath against your neck.

“Emily…” Your warning melted into a sigh as her lips brushed against the shell of your ear. She let out a quiet chuckle, relinquishing her hold on you to reach for one of the mugs on the shelf in front of you.

“What? I’m just getting coffee.” Her innocent facade was ruined when she leaned in for a teasing kiss before you could protest. You nipped at her bottom lip as she pulled away, chastising her for interrupting you. She cocked an eyebrow, playful desire filling her eyes.

“We are at work, Agent Prentiss. That means no funny business, especially when someone could walk in at any mo-” You paused at the sound of two sets of approaching footsteps. The two of you quickly rearranged yourselves into a slightly less intimate position just as Rossi and Alvez walked into the room talking about their weekend plans.

“Ladies,” Rossi nodded, “I see you’ve already beat us to the freshly brewed pot of afternoon coffee.” He walked between you and Emily to start his own cup of coffee at the counter. You mumbled a greeting over a sip of your drink.

“So what’s this about weekend plans?” Emily asked, prompting the boys to fall back into their previous conversation. She sent you a smirk, one full of promises that the teasing was far from over.

No, Emily and you weren’t together, at least not in the most conventional sense. The two of you were, for the lack of better words, friends with benefits. Best friends, to be specific, with all the best benefits.

Emily Prentiss had intimidated you to no end when you first joined the BAU two years ago. Not only was she incredibly attractive, but she was a complete badass out in the field. You had initially thought what you felt for the woman was purely admiration for her talents. But the way she brought down the bad guys, guns blazing, ready to kick ass and take names, was honestly the biggest turn on.

You remember the first time you watched in on one of her interrogations. Luke had just as big a presence as Emily had while they were questioning the unsub, but for some reason, the pure energy and control that crackled through your unit chief’s body definitely got you hot under the collar.

If you had gone back to your hotel room that night and fantasized about Emily using that commandeering tone with you in a totally different context... Well, that was no one else’s business but your own.

One night, Emily had come over for a girls night with a bottle of wine and a handful of Marvel movies for you to watch.

Three glasses of wine and one offhand confession that ‘Black Widow is super hot and, hey Em, she kinda reminds me of you’ later, she had pushed you against the couch cushions and started kissing you senseless. As soon as her hand had wandered down to pull the strings of your pajama shorts, you pushed her towards the bedroom for what would be the first of many late night (or any time of day really) affairs.

You were so caught up in thoughts of Emily’s soft touch and talented tongue that you almost missed Luke saying your name.

“Huh?”

Your confusion pulled an amused laugh from your handsome colleague.

“I asked if you were staying late to finish up your paperwork, but judging by the way you keep spacing out I think I already have my answer,” he teased.

Prentiss had the audacity to wink at you, clearly knowing exactly where your head had been. 

“Yeah, I’ll be staying late, but at least I’ll have Emily to keep me company. She lost a bet and has to help me with paperwork for the next 3 cases.”

“What kind of bet?” Rossi asked curiously.

“Oh, I was just able to beat her at this game we played last week.”

The game had actually been to see who could give the other person the most orgasms in an hour and let’s just say your lockjaw and tired fingers had been worth seeing Emily’s face the last time you pushed her over the edge before she admitted defeat.

“Oh come on, Prentiss, you know Y/N will do whatever it takes to win a bet,” Luke said, shaking his head as he led your little group out of the break room.

“Yeah, don’t I know it.”

You stifled a yelp when her hand snuck up to pinch your butt. You shot her a glare and smacked her hand away before schooling your face into a more neutral expression as you all walked into the BAU bullpen. The rest of the team was already scribbling away at their case reports, unaware of Emily’s bold move.

You settled into your desk across Reid’s, giving him a quick smile before turning to the mountain of paperwork sitting on your desk.

This was going to be a long night...

One by one, your fellow agents bid their farewells until only you, Emily, and Spencer remained.

You reached your arms over your head for a much needed stretch, letting out a satisfied moan as you let your arms fall to your sides. Innocently going back to your paperwork, you didn’t notice the looks you were getting from your remaining colleagues.

Spencer cleared his throat. “Um, I think I’m going to wrap up for the night,” he announced, shuffling his reports into a neat stack at the corner of his desk and collecting his things.

You smiled sleepily at the messy-haired doctor, giving him a small wave. “Bye Spence,” you mumbled. Unconsciously, you found your eyes trailing your coworker as he walked out the door. You had to admit, those grey trousers clung to his backside just right. As soon as he disappeared from sight, there was a light tap on your desk. Emily was looking down at you with a knowing smirk on her face.

“Bye Spence,” she gushed with an over-exaggerated swoon. “I like your ass and wanna ride your face! Oh Spencer!”

“Emily!” you groaned, “That’s lewd!”

“Why’re you suddenly some blushing virgin? Last night you hand your tongue up my -”

You spring into action, jumping out of your seat to seal your lips against hers. You felt her grin against your mouth as she melted into the kiss. She nipped your bottom lip before giving it a soothing lick. “C’mere,” she murmured, pushing your files to clear the edge of your desk and grabbing onto your waist to seat you on top of the table.

“This a fantasy of yours, Unit Chief Prentiss? Fooling around at work?” you whispered huskily, pulling her in between your parted legs. She responded with a trail of kisses down the sensitive skin of your neck. Your eyes fluttered to a close and you let out a quiet moan.

Her fingers toyed with the hem of your skirt before slipping underneath, sending shivers down your spine. A soft brush against the already damp fabric was all it took to elicit a gasp from you. Emily had talented fingers and the fact you were in the middle of your workplace just excited you more. You’d think about this every time you sat down at this desk.

“Fuck, Em…” You bucked against her fingers, eager for more of her touch. You blinked your eyes open and froze as your vision focused.

The two of you were not alone.

Spencer stood frozen at the doorway, wide eyes glued to the sight before him, jaw dropped in surprise. His presence did nothing to deter Emily from her task, her fingers moving against you with more gusto. You couldn’t hold back your moan and you watched as the young doctor’s eyes slowly clouded with a tinge of… lust?

Your eyes shut involuntarily as a familiar warmth began building up in your belly. You were too far gone to care that you were about to cum in front of a coworker that wasn’t your usual bed buddy. With a sudden shift of her fingers, Emily had you crying out in pleasure. You threw your arm out to grab hold of something - anything - to keep you steady.

You were nearly shocked out of your orgasm when your hand came into contact with a warm body that clearly wasn’t Prentiss’.

Your eyes flew open and connected with Spencer’s warm brown ones. He hesitated for only a second before tangling his fingers with yours and crashing his lips against yours. His soft, pillowy lips felt divine and you could feel your head spinning from the sensory overload your fellow FBI agents were giving you. He pulled away just as you were coming down from your high. Emily traced small circles onto the skin of your inner thigh soothingly.

“Y/N…”

You were in too much of a delirious pleasure to even react.

“Y/N… Y/N… Y/N, wake up!”

You jolted awake.

Spencer and Emily were standing in front of your desk, the former gazing with concern and the latter smirking all too smugly.

“Good morning, Sleeping Beauty. Have a good nap?” Emily asked teasingly.

Nap? You looked blearily at the red numbers on the digital clock on your desk, the time a full hour ahead of when you last remember checking. The office was devoid of any people other that Emily and Spencer. After rubbing the sleep from your eyes you felt a light touch on your shoulder. Spencer absentmindedly brushed back hair from your face, face still full of concern.

“Are you okay, Y/N? You were groaning a lot and fidgeting around… It sounded like you were having a bad dream.”

You used all the power within you to keep a blush from rising to your cheeks. Damn, that whole thing with the desk… and Emily… and Spencer… It had all been a dream.

“Uhhh…”

“Oh, I don’t think her dream was all that bad, Spence,” Emily said slyly.

You rose, hastily shifting your papers into some semblance of order. “Um, I don’t even remember my dream, haha… We - We should all pack up and go; it’s pretty late,” you muttered, avoiding eye contact with the two stars of a dream you would definitely remember for a very long time.

Spencer lifted his already packed messenger bag over his shoulder and offered you a soft smile. “Well, if you’re sure you’re okay I guess I’ll head out now. Good night, guys,” he said before walking out the BAU doors.

You sighed as soon as he walked out of the room, bringing your hands up to your face wearily.

“So, Agent Y/L/N…” You spun around at the sound of Emily’s suddenly sultry tone, backing into the desk as she approached. “Wanna tell me what that dream was?” Her fingers teased the edge of your skirt and you couldn’t help but compare this to the direction your imagination had taken as you slept. As her touch snaked upwards you let out an airy chuckle and scooted so you were firmly seated atop your desk. All you need was a certain messy-haired colleague to come back

“Keep doing what you’re doing and maybe in a few minutes it’ll be a dream come true.”

Hello there! I took a bit of a hiatus but I’m slowly coming back to writing. Hope you enjoyed! Please leave any comments, kudos, critiques, or requests! 

#emily prentiss #spencer reid #spencer reid imagine #emily prentiss imagine #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds #drreidreads

[newstechreviews]

This year in music may well go down as the year of the isolation song: confined under stay-at-home orders, artists around the world have shared their cooped-up feelings as the seasons march on. But even the songs released before the pandemic changed the daily pace hit in a different way as they echo around the confines of our more socially distant context. In another summer, Bad Bunny’s “Yo Perreo Sola” would be a party hit; now, it’s a bittersweet anthem for an alternate universe. Christine and the Queens’ “People, I’ve been sad” might have floated under the radar; now, its title alone is a refrain for our time. Megan Thee Stallion and Beyoncé’s “Savage Remix” might have ushered in a sweaty, fun-loving summer; now, it’s a recollection of past joys. Either way, these songs are a reminder that art—and especially music—can be both a mirror and an escape, depending on how we choose to interpret it.

Bad Bunny, “Yo Perreo Sola”

It wasn’t all that long ago that pop stars were supposed to avoid politics or other controversial causes for fear that they might alienate certain fanbases. Bad Bunny is practically the poster child for a new generation of stars rewriting those rules. As the Puerto Rican singer and rapper’s star has risen, he’s only become more subversive and outspoken, railing against the Puerto Rico governor and questioning norms surrounding gender and sexuality.

In his single “Yo Perreo Sola,” Bad Bunny writes from the perspective of a woman who wants to go to the club and dance alone, unbothered by men. In the song’s music video, he cross-dresses in several eye-popping outfits—red dresses, thigh-high boots, manicured fingernails—as he twerks on a masculine version of himself to the song’s vicious drop. It’s one of the most joyous—and effortlessly transgressive—cultural artifacts of 2020.—Andrew R. Chow

Christine and the Queens, “People, I’ve been sad”

A simple refrain—”People, I’ve been sad”—takes on new levels of meaning in the capable hands of France’s Heloise Letissier, stage name Christine and the Queens. Her synth-pop approach on this ultimate age-of-isolation track is heavy with sadness, but also intense with yearning. “It’s true that people, I’ve been gone,” she states baldly: “It’s true that, people, I’ve been missing out.” In her past work, including on 2018’s Chris, she explored the dissolving edges of her identity over muscular pop. Here, the excavation is internal, as she switches between English and French. It feels like she’s trying to claw her way up and out of the loneliness, but it’s a process.—Raisa Bruner

Dixie Chicks, “Julianna Calm Down”

The second single off the Dixie Chicks’ much-anticipated delayed comeback album Gaslighter, “Julianna Calm Down” might be called a tender dirge, with its dense, unhurried organ, chiming underneath lyrics calling out the names of female friends and family. But it’s also a chin-up anthem: “Just put on your best shoes, and strut the f-ck around like you’ve got nothing to lose!” the country trio sings once the song loosens up and adds in a bluegrass twang. The phrase “calm down” is often perceived as belittling, especially when spoken to a woman. But the Dixie Chicks have turned that negativity on its head, creating a moment of sisterly triumph and freedom instead. As each instrument comes in, the song grows in strength and beauty, cresting with celebratory guitar plucks that might just be sparkling notes of independence.—Raisa Bruner

Gorillaz & Slowthai, “Momentary Bliss”

Gorillaz may be 15 years past its commercial peak: “Feel Good Inc.” was a worldwide phenomenon in 2005. But then again, the virtual band was way ahead of its time in its genre fluidity, self-mythology, digital focus and internalization of hip-hop cadences and culture. So it’s perhaps unsurprising that Damon Albarn and Jamie Hewlett’s brainchild has converted so seamlessly to the current global online era. All four of their songs this year, released as part of their rolling audiovisual project Song Machine, have been excellent, and spotlighted varying artists and musicians’ cultures from around the world.

The best of the lot is “Momentary Bliss,” a collaboration with the trendsetting British rapper Slowthai. While the Gorillaz’ signature guitar fuzz remains present, the group also shrewdly finds the connective tissue between an earlier era of British punk and the current rap scene dominating that country. Over a beat that could be moshed to by skinheads and grime fans alike, Slowthai and Albarn bark an earnest and unforgettable mantra: “It makes me sick to think you ain’t happy in your skin.” A trippy animation-live action hybrid music video only reinforces the song’s strengths.—Andrew R. Chow

Guapdad, Denzel Curry, Wiz Khalifa, Rona Raps #3

The lockdown era has seen several rap artists unexpectedly rise in stature to become cultural nerve centers, including D-Nice (spinning to first ladies during Club Quarantine) and Torey Lanez (gleefully howling over his raunchy Quarantine Radio). Guapdad 4000, an Oakland rapper, has likewise become an ascendant rap hub for his series Rona Raps. The series doesn’t have any gimmicks or special effects: it simply recreates the street corner or lunch table cypher for social distancing, allowing rappers like Joey Badass, Lil Yachty and Buddy to collaborate and prove their lyrical mettle from the safety of their homes.

On the third installment, Guapdad, Wiz Khalifa, and Denzel Curry take turns flowing over Luniz’s “I Got 5 on It,” a 1995 rap classic that has taken on ominous undertones after being remixed in the Us trailer. While all three impress, Curry emerges as the clear winner by drolly narrating his quarantine routine, which includes ski masks (both the garment and the rapper), eating takeout, watching Donnie Brasco on Netflix, and most importantly, avoiding his friends: “I tell them there’s no love/ I don’t want to dap, clap you up/ And there’s no hug.”—Andrew R. Chow

Lady Gaga and Ariana Grande, “Rain on Me”

Two pop stars at the peak of their powers. An emotional dance-floor anthem. Plenty of lines with double meanings that point to both their personal struggles and some of the universal pains brought on by the pandemic. The second single off of Lady Gaga’s Chromatica hits all the right notes as both a dance-pop smash and a rallying cry for fans in need. “I’d rather be dry, but at least I’m alive” may have sounded hyperbolic if it had come out in a different context. But here we are, and here are Gaga and Ariana sharing their talents, with the former comfortably inhabiting her more theatrical Chromatica persona, while the latter takes a detour from her recent trap-pop lane to shine as a vocalist. Add in the delightfully old-school music video—hordes of dancers, glitter makeup, fun outfits—and it truly feels as though they’re providing a pop-culture service.—Raisa Bruner

Mac Miller, “Good News”

The first single released after rapper Mac Miller’s death in 2018, “Good News” is meditative at its core, a bittersweet reflection only made more poignant by context. Posthumous releases are difficult to assess, but “Good News” certainly feels true to his spirit: an emotional open book packaged in deceptively pretty production. “There’s a whole lot more for me waitin’ on the other side,” he sings, his gentle voice floating from singing to rapping. “So tired of being so tired/ Why I gotta build something beautiful just to go set it on fire?” Miller was an artist known for struggling with his demons through his music. With its simple melody and lyrics that hint at sadness, “Good News” feels like both an omen and a balm. It’s our good fortune that Miller left behind songs like this one—a gentle benediction.—Raisa Bruner

Megan Thee Stallion feat. Beyonce, “Savage Remix”

Before Beyoncé turned it into “Savage Remix,” Houston rapper Megan Thee Stallion’s “Savage” was a steamy jam off her latest album Suga. It had even kicked off a popular dance challenge. But adding fellow Houston artist Beyoncé was a major power move, not only because of her star status, but also because of the witty, confident energy that Beyoncé brings to the track. Beyoncé’s nimble rapping, full of trend-setting lyrics, is counterbalanced by melodic vocals. The original “Savage” had all of Megan Thee Stallion’s signature intensity going for it; the Beyoncé-boosted remix gave it levels.—Raisa Bruner

Phoebe Bridgers, “Garden Song”

One of California singer-songwriter Phoebe Bridgers’s foremost abilities is her world-building: she can create startlingly vivid scenes with just a few turns of poetic phrase. Such is the case with “Garden Song,” the debut single off her second album, Punisher. On it, Bridgers sings of a house burned down except for “the notches in the door frame; a dreamscape that includes a “dorm room like a hedge maze”; a magical garden that may or may not be haunted. She saves her most affecting lyric for the end of the song, singing, “I have everything I ever wanted”—which, in Bridgers’ throat, sounds not like a declaration of achievement, but a harrowing existential crisis.—Andrew R. Chow

Sarah Jarosz, “Johnny”

Over the last decade, the Americana singer-songwriter Sarah Jarosz has built up a consistently mesmerizing body of work, both through her solo material as well as with the progressive folk supergroup I’m With Her. “Johnny,” one of her strongest songs to date, tells the story of an unlucky traveller returning home. But while the verses are full of anxiety, the chorus explodes with arresting harmonies and thematic catharsis, during which Jarosz cries: “an open heart looks like a lot like the wilderness.”—Andrew R. Chow

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[doctorwhonews]

Extremis

Latest Review: Written by Steven Moffat Directed by Daniel Nettheim Starring Peter Capaldi, Pearl Mackie, Matt Lucas, and  Michelle Gomez First transmitted BBCOne 20th May 2017"In darkness we are revealed." "In darkness, we are revealed." I’ve not heard that one before, but it sounds sort of familiar? Ah, Steven. Welcome back. Lovely season of Doctor Who we’re having. Love the new girl. Loving Nardole’s work too. And the Doctor, playing a blinder too. Sorry about the unintentional terrible pun, there. Now, I know time flies when you’re having fun, but is it really that time already? There seem to be some fiendishly clever and complex mysteries unfolding, and some apocalyptic revelations, and that thing with the Vault too, and it’s only episode six. And those monsters too, they’re terrifying. Can we not persuade you to stay on a bit longer, and Peter too? Oh go on, go on. Joking (and terrible puns) aside, Extremis indeed plays like the set-up of a season finale, all long shadows, high concepts, ominous portent and flashbacks. For his lap of honour, Steven Moffat is at his wrong-footing, twisty best, subverting everything he can lay his hands on. The only unsurprising thing is the revelation of who’s in that vault. The Doctor being summoned by the Pope to solve a mystery involving a sacred text, the White House, the Pentagon, and CERN would normally have the feel of a Bond movie. That it actually turns out to be the exact opposite is just one of the many surprises seeded throughout Extremis’s 48 minutes.  In fact, reading between the lines, it may possibly contain a dark joke about people reading The Da Vinci Code and then committing suicide, but let’s not go too far down that path. We can however be sure that this is the only episode of Doctor Who ever to feature both mass suicides and references to Super Mario. The leisurely pace that Extremis unfurls at is unusual for Moffat’s Doctor Who. It’s unhurried, but far from sluggish. Rather than ramping up the tension as such, the events of Extremis come out like a slow-motion car crash from the minute the Pope summons the Doctor to read the Veritas, and Director Daniel Nettheim’s use of light, shadows, and focus frame it beautifully. Watch it again, the scenes of the Doctor’s eyesight fading in and out, and his half-glimpses of the Monks before the camera settles on their frankly horrible faces are masterful. The scrolling motion of Nettheim’s shots make a lot more sense the second time round, once you know it’s a simulation. And what a simulation. Extremis’s heavy video game influence is worn on its sleeve. The wireframe graphics of the Doctor’s sonic shades (which mercifully fulfil a plot function here), the on the nose references to holodecks, VR, and Grand Theft Auto are artfully seeded by Moffat. Even Bill’s fantastically awkward date is framed like a cut-scene from a game. With its cadaverous Monks, shadows, and dark portents, Extremis would be the most nightmarish episode of Doctor Who in a long, long time in its own right - but the revelation that it’s all a game is arguably more horrifying. The genuine terror of Nardole and Bill’s avatars as they become self-aware and disintegrate is chilling. This is Doctor Who vs. Existence. What happens when the people inside the simulation become self aware. For the Veritas isn’t a Truman Show trapdoor to reality. It’s a one-way trip to oblivion. The game of numbers at CERN also chills the blood, as the wine-supping Swiss scientists set up the most civilised mass suicide ever shown in a family TV timeslot. The try-out simulation of invasion set up by the mysterious Monks is due to pay off in presumably quite a big way over the coming weeks. Their exact motivations are unknown thus far, but they’re revolting, dessicated creatures, destined to scare the absolute Veritas out of children everywhere. Why exactly they leave the trapdoor of the Veritas is slightly unclear, but as the avatar-Doctor shows, maybe they’re not as good at computer games as they’re cracked up to be. That’s one suspiciously benevolent Catholic Church they’ve knocked up there. It’s a diminished Doctor we see in Extremis, still blind after the events of Oxygen, and doing a rubbish job of covering it up, although Bill weirdly doesn’t seem to notice. He’s on the run and the back foot, and the guard is back up. His inability to admit his blindness to Bill is perhaps the old pride rearing its head. His face-off with the Monks, although desperate, is classic Doctor, and Capaldi continues to show us just how much he’ll be missed with another stunning performance. This more fallible, rattled Doctor suddenly feels very old. In the midst of all this seriousness, there’s still room for warmth and jokes. Bill finding the Pope in her room. Moira’s tacit recognition of Bill’s sexuality, in an awkward, but rather lovely scene, in which both not much and everything is said. Nardole the badass, licensed to kick the Doctor's arse by River. The Doctor’s catty put-down of Harry Potter, and the Moby Dick gag. Perhaps best of all is Missy’s disgruntled retort of "I've just been executed, show a little respect!” Ah yes, Missy’s in the vault. Absolutely no surprises there, but we do cut back and forth to her ceremonial execution. Whatever Missy’s done, it’s a biggie this time. Brilliantly, Moffat slowly seeds the flashback of Missy’s ceremonial execution by pompous men in capes, but keeps you guessing at exactly what atrocity she’s committed. You know from the start that the Doctor’s not going to agree to execute her, but honour their friendship through becoming her keeper, and Capaldi and Michelle Gomez’s dialogue poignantly signposts this, in one of Gomez’s quietest performances, as Missy actually pleads for her life. As we discover, the Doctor’s been guarding her for a long time. At the end, he’s whispering through the vault door that he’ll need his old frenemy’s help. Something’s coming. And with that, another very good episode of Doctor Who leaves us with a lingering quote.   "Honestly, shut up and get to the whale.” No, not really. I’ll get my coat. "In darkness we are revealed." http://reviews.doctorwhonews.net/2017/05/extremis.html?utm_source=dlvr.it&utm_medium=tumblr

#doctor who; series ten; steven moffat; peter capaldi; pearl mackie; matt lucas; michelle gomez; monks; extremis