A/N

So, battling writer's block… I got a prompt from Annber03; put music device on shuffle and write short fics off the first ten songs. Since it's way past midnight here and I've been at this for hours with this meagre result to show for it, I have to stop at five for tonight, but I wanted to get something up as soon as possible. Also, oh my God it wasn't until I attempted this that I realised my playlist is SO SENTIMENTAL it's just… how do I write something based on these songs? Well... I did my best, OKAY? :D

These are VERY short, which is why I cram five of them into one post/chapter.

Pairings vary.

REO Speedwagon – I Can't Fight This Feeling Anymore

If I survive this, I'm going straight home to tell her how I feel, Morgan had thought as the bullets flew around him like in a hailstorm. No more wandering, no more fighting these feelings. I know what I want, it's time to stop running away from it.

It was, in some weird way, easy to think like that when you were moments away from death, but it was another thing entirely when back in the safety of Quantico. Still, he had made that promise to himself and he was a man who kept his word.

He took a deep breath and steeled himself before raising a hand to knock. Before he could, the door opened and Penelope Garcia threw her arms around him and pulled him into an embrace that smelled of raspberry tea, flowery perfume and pure, unapologetic affection.

"Thank God you're back in one piece," she whispered, and that was all it took. Derek Morgan stopped fighting his feelings, this time for good.

"Penelope, I have to tell you something. I love you, baby girl."

"I know you do. I love you too."

"I mean, I love you," he repeated. She looked up at him, her eyes full of tears and yet she was smiling with her entire face.

"I know you do. And I love you too." She cupped his face with both hands. "Now kiss me."

He did. It was everything he could have wished for and more.

Idina Menzel - You Learn To Live Without

She had told herself she'd be fine – after all, James was so rarely home either way, it shouldn't be that much different when he had moved out – but she wasn't feeling fine at all. There was, evidently, a vast difference between going to bed a long-distance wife and going to bed a divorcee. Knowing for sure there would be no unexpected goofy message in her inbox, no thirty-second phone call just to say goodnight. No more chances to make good of the phrase "I'll make it up to you later", no happy memories yet to be made.

Over the years, Alex Blake had told several friends that they'd get over the heartache of a divorce, not even knowing how smug she felt deep inside that her own marriage was still intact. Now that it had shattered, like a fragile crystal glass thrown against marble floor, she realised that she had no idea how to get over the heartache herself. There were written guides to this type of life event too, oh yes, manuals and support seminars and "divorce for dummies", but the truth of the matter was that while she knew intellectually that this heartache wasn't going to kill her… well, her heart still ached. It wasn't just a metaphor, it was a literal, actual truth. Her heart ached something awful, making it hard to breathe, to think, making it painful just to plain exist.

Maybe in time she'd learn how to live without the one she had thought would be her lifelong partner, like so many before her had, but so far, she had no clue as to how it was done.

Roxette – Dangerous

"Are you kidding me?" the unsub said as he laid eyes on JJ. He let out a surprised laugh. "Sweetheart, I squash little girls like you with no effort whatsoe-ufff!"

The roundhouse kick JJ delivered sent him staggering backwards against a wall of cardboard boxes, which gave way for his weight, and he fell helplessly into the collapsing pile, dropping his weapon on the floor. Morgan took a step forward and kicked it out of reach, but it turned out to be an unnecessary action – the unsub was knocked out cold.

Morgan holstered his gun and looked at the blonde with the wide blue eyes and the innocently girly face. For a moment he simply stared at her as if he saw her for the very first time, but then he began to grin.

"Jennifer Jareau, you are one dangerous woman. I hope I'll never get on your bad side."

JJ kept her stern face, but inwardly she grinned even wider than Morgan. Sometimes it was difficult to be taken seriously in this field when you looked like a sweet girl – but it was also the best disguise you could possibly ask for in sharp moments.

Celine Dion – Right In Front Of You

It took years to build up, both parts unknowing of the power in a collection of innocent moments, a mighty castle built on jokes and laughs and understanding glances and pranks and serious talks.

To outsiders it may have seemed like it came out of nowhere, but anyone with insight would have seen it, building little by little, like an oyster little by little builds a pearl from what started out as an irritating grain of sand.

It was just that one morning you looked up and realised that what you had spent a lifetime searching for was there all along, right in front of you. And it was the greatest blessing, that the other one had the same dawning realisation at the same time.

And that was how it suddenly came to be that Derek Morgan and Spencer Reid started dating.

(A/N: this is the first and only M/M thing I've written, and it was ONLY because AnnBer03 once said she thought I could do it. So I had to prove her wrong and show I can't. And now I'm not sure if proved her or myself wrong. Quite frustrating.)

Def Leppard – Love Bites

"Testing out new fashion trends, or just feeling cold?" Rossi asked, his voice amused, as he sat down. Hotch's hand wandered up to the turtleneck for a moment, then he seemed to lower it with physical force.

"Neither. Laundry day," he murmured and kept his eyes on the file he was reading.

"Uh-huh," Rossi said. "I guess my assumption that you had an endless supply of white shirts was wrong, then."

"Guess it was," Hotch replied, and his hand once more went up to fiddle with the collar.

"That's a new. I remember back in the old days, even then there was always a spare shirt or two tucked away…" Rossi said, carefully – and with an annoyingly smug look on his face – monitoring his old friend's reactions. Hotch didn't give any visual reactions, but he felt he was starting to sweat a little.

"Or maybe…" Rossi went on as he reached out to pull down the turtleneck and expose Hotch's neck, "… you're trying to hide something." He chuckled. "Bingo. Wanna tell me who gave you that hickey? Oh, that's interesting... bite marks? This I need to hear about. Tell me."

Hotch glared at him and pulled back.

"No."

"That's okay, I'll just profile it. I know you're straight, so it's a woman. I know it happened in the past twelve hours because that's as long as we've been away from this godforsaken place – which is rather sad in itself, if you want my opinion – and I know she has long brown hair, because there is one of those stuck to your lapel at this moment."

Hotch looked down and indeed, there was a long dark hair stuck to his lapel. He quickly removed it and tried to maintain an indifferent face. It was getting difficult.

"And there's a vague whiff of her perfume coming off your jacket. Obsession by Calvin Klein, to be more specific. I know a brunette who favours that perfume and who left the building at the same time you did."

"Dave," Hotch hissed between his teeth. Rossi leaned back in his chair, turning his head towards the door just as the next team member walked in.

"Morning, Blake."

She momentarily stopped, looked from one to the other, accurately read the situation and shook her head in response.

"I'm taking the Fifth Amendment on this one, just so you know."