#DO YOU EVER CRY FOR EMILY PRENTISS

[wistfulwatcher]

bau members + near death experiences

[ddejavvu]

What about spencer with a reader who is normally so independent and does everything for herself but she’s so soft for spencer and lets him dote on her and take care of her and the team is like :o bc they can’t believe she is letting someone do things for her

"I'm not a tyrant," Spencer's voice is inexhaustibly patient, and his fingers are slightly awkward as he holds them around his phone, angling it awkwardly so that you can see his upper half on face-time while he sits at his desk, "I just want you to take your medicine so that you can get better."

"I am better," You insist, your voice a far cry from its usual drawl. It's more ragged and weak, and you definitely have a stuffy nose, which indicates how untruthful your words are. Everyone knows it, most of the bullpen can hear your insistent griping, and they're beginning to feel bad for Spencer. They can't imagine how he'd gotten you to stay home today, but they're shooting each other knowing grins each time you push back against his gentle insistence.

"No, angel, you're not." Spencer croons, "You're on the mend, but you're not recovered yet. And you'll get worse if you don't take your meds. I put them on the nightstand for you, and some water. All you have to do is take them, and go back to sleep."

"I don't want to sleep!" You insist, and it's a whine- a whine! Emily's mouth splits in an incredulous grin, and a laugh threatens to tremble Derek's broad shoulders at how juvenile your attempts at protest have become. They're used to your biting words, your forceful demeanor, your inability to surrender any control, but Spencer's got you tucked into the covers begging for a kiss on the forehead.

"I've been sleeping all day, and I slept all day yesterday, and the day before that. I'm tired of sleeping. Just let me fill out some paperwork! Anything, Spence, please."

He chews on the inside of his cheek, ignoring the way that JJ giggles suspiciously with Penelope, who's leaning against the side of her desk, drawn out of her office for the spectacle.

"You can read," He relents, "And you can watch tv but only if you do it on your computer with the night light setting turned on," He narrows his eyes, taking on your rather rough persona to ensure that his orders are obeyed, "Promise?"

"Promise," You rasp, and the team can hear the smile in your voice, "Thanks, Spencer."

"Use the night light setting," He warns instead of accepting your thanks, "I'll check later to see if it's turned on!"

"Okay!" You laugh, and Spencer winces lightly as the sound morphs into a thick cough, "Okay, I'll- ah, I'll see you later, baby."

"See you later," He concedes with a fond smile, waving in addition to his verbal goodbyes, "Love you."

"Love you too," You promise, then end the call. Spencer feels the weight of everyone else's stares on him as he sets his seldom-used phone down and resumes working, refusing to acknowledge them unless they prod at him first.

"Good job, Spence," JJ congratulates, "I didn't think she'd ever take a sick day."

"I know," Emily gushes with bright eyes and a wild smile, "If I tried to tuck her in she'd probably bite me."

"Well, that's 'cause you don't have Pretty Boy's charm," Derek cracks, though the smile that he flashes Prentiss is reassurance that he's teasing Spencer more than he's teasing her, "Congrats on wearing the pants today, Reid. Enjoy it while it lasts, 'cause as soon as she's out of bed, she's taking the wheel again."

Spencer takes great pleasure in levelling Derek with a meaningful, "Shut up," because he's more than happy to be your passenger princess any day.

[mydear-corinthian]

not you, please

synopsis - wherein the reader was kidnapped by the unsub that hotch and the team were investigating.

pairing - aaron hotchner x reader / aaron hotchner x wife!reader

warnings - ANGST w/ comfort, reader being kidnapped and tortured, blood, typical criminal minds talk/content, use of aaron and hotch separately

notes - a tad long (w.c <2300), gif & picture isn't mine, divider by @animatedglittergraphics-n-more

main masterlist | criminal minds masterlist

"Where is she?" Hotch's deep and frustrating voice echoed throughout the interrogation room. He was alone, wanting to talk to the now-caught criminal, wanting the offender to know your whereabouts.

It's been two days since you went missing. You were just doing your usual grocery for the week not until you went to the parking lot and you felt a damped cloth covering your mouth and nose. You accidentally inhale the chemicals on it making your muscles and bones tired, and your eyes shut down completely.

When you woke up, you felt a cold metallic wrap-feeling around your wrists. Your hands were hung up while you stood; your body felt weaker than ever. As you looked down on your body, bruises and fresh scars painted all over your stomach and legs. You want to cry. Cry for the pain. Cry because you know that you won't be able to see your husband again.

Hotch came home after a long tiring work. He gently hung his suit coat on the rack as he called your name. Once he did, Hotch didn't hear an answer. He thought that you were asleep since it was already midnight. Hotch went upstairs to your shared room and knocked softly before entering. His eyes widened at the sight: the bed was empty. Hotch quickly ran downstairs, searching every room there is inside the house. Hell, he even checked the backyard.

You weren't there.

Hotch immediately grabbed his phone, dialing your number. Unfortunately, it went directly to voicemail making his heart drop.

Hi, this is (Y/n)! I'm afraid I cannot be on the phone right now. Just leave a message and I'll reply as soon as I can.

Your voice helped him a bit but it's the fact that it's just a voicemail. He cannot help but think where were you?

That's when he remembered.

Earlier in his shift, he recalled how the team got a new case. Four women were tortured and murdered with the same hair and eye color as yours.

"No, that's not possible.." Not you, please.." he thought to himself.

Hotch grabbed his car keys and drove to the BAU office right away. When he entered the office, he ran immediately and went inside the elevator. Hotch called everyone: Reid, Garcia, Morgan, J.J, Prentiss, and Rossi.

"I need you all to be here. It's an emergency." Hotch stated and dropped the call after.

After five minutes, everyone was in the conference room, standing up and looking at Hotch.

"What happened?" Morgan was the first to ask.

"(Y/n) was abducted. I suspect this morning." Hotch replied, trying to keep his composure. He may appear normal or he's showing no feelings at all but deep down, his mind is punching him with all the possibilities on where are you and what happened. Are you okay? Do you have any injuries? Or worse, are you still alive?

He knows that people who go missing die within the first 24 hours since they went missing. For the first time, Hotch disregard the statistics. He won't accept any of it.

"I am sure it has to do with the case we had this morning. (Y/n) has the same characteristics as the victims. (y/h/c) hair, (y/e/c)." Hotch added.

"Oh my god.." Garcia commented, covering her mouth in shock.

"We'll help you, Hotch," J.J. said, her eyes showing a trickle of sadness.

Everyone in the BAU loved you. They were shocked knowing that both of you were dating despite your different personalities. Whenever there was a tough case, you would give them homemade cookies— especially Emily since you know how much she loves them— and you usually wait for Aaron to finish his paperworks in his office and you chat with Spencer. Listening to all the statistics and facts that he gives. You were the one who helped J.J. during her pregnancy, you gifted her how many boxes of diapers and other baby items during her bridal shower. You learned how to make Italian dishes with Rossi and Aaron loved every single dish of them. Derek and Penelope kept on asking for dating tips and even going out and parties with them. For them, you're a part of the BAU now. You're their family.

"I'll trace her phone. To see where her last location was." Garcia immediately started, leaving the room, and went to her computer lair.

"I'll talk to the neighbors to see if they saw her." Emily and Derek said.

"I'll go and try to mark a location up," Spencer said, standing up and going to the other room.

Rossi walked towards the scared and worried Hotch, patting him on the back, "We'll find her, Aaron."

-

"Look who's awake! Took you long enough," the unsub laughed, there was a small knife in his hand.

"Let me go!" you panted, your arms wiggling against the cold and handcuffs. Tears were starting to form in your eyes.

The unsub was getting closer to you until you felt his hot breath on your neck, whispering things that you wish you could not hear. With all of your strength, you kicked his stomach making him tumble backward.

"You're a fighter, aren't you?" he laughed.

His knife trailed down to your thighs, caressing it before stabbing you. You let out a scream as you felt it pinch to your skin.

"Please— stop!" you begged.

"You know, the last person who was there in your place died," he said. "If you don't want to end up like her then behave!"

You didn't protest, you want to live. Your mouth let out a series of whimpers and sobs. The unsub laughed, showing no remorse or guilt for what he had just done he enjoyed it.

Another man came inside whatever room you were in. He wasn't in shape, unlike the man who tortured you. There you know what is happening.

Two unsubs.

One is highly intelligent; the one who plans all the murders. The other one is physically strong but has no brains. The stronger man works for the other guy.

You learned it from your husband. You let him debrief heavy cases and also Aaron gives you some tips and tricks whenever you're in a dangerous situation— which he hopes won't happen but it's better to be cautious and be prepared.

"Good job finding her, Eric. I'll go somewhere to buy more tools for this lady over here." the smarter unsub said.

Eric nodded in response, facing back to you as he smiled diabolically with a small cutter in his hands.

When his duo left, all you felt was pain when the cutter went back again to your skin, cutting you slowly. Your vision started to get woozy. You lost your balance before your whole vision started going back.

-

It's finally been 24 hours since you went missing.

Aaron was mentally and emotionally dissolved. He and the whole team were in the conference room, looking at Garcia on the small screen of the laptop, hoping to get an address or a name.

Please, Garcia.. Please

"I got an address!" Penelope shouted, making everyone including Aaron stand up.

"Where?" Aaron asked immediately, his foot tapping anxiously.

"So, I searched stores who had customers previously bought knives, ropes, cutters, and all those horrifying items," she responded. Aaron's heart sank when she mentioned those items. Torture items. "—There were a lot of people who bought it—welcome to America— but this is what I suspiciously found. I reviewed this store's CCTV footage and I kept on seeing the same man coming inside the store twice a week for almost a month who brought the same items: rope, butcher's knives, small cutters, staplers, shovels, and some.. handcuffs... What's weird is that he doesn't look like the person who is physically fit to do gardening, carpentry, digging stuff and all."

"Can you identify the man, baby girl?"

"I already did. The name is Fred Silverstone. He's 5'7 tall, white, he owns a grey Adventure pickup. He's still inside the store! The address is Building 2 Kennedy Store just by Palm Street."

As soon as the team received the address, all of them went to their SUVs and drove. Derek and Rossi were with Aaron. He wanted to drive but Rossi was faster than him. Rossi began to drive at a fast speed, trying to catch the possible unsub and you in time.

Once they arrived, Aaron didn't hesitate to run inside the store with a gun in his hand and a bulletproof vest on his chest to protect him.

"John Silverstone, freeze!" Aaron yelled, pointing his gun at him when he finally saw John about to leave the store with a cart full of torture items.

"Raise your hands where I can see them!"

John raised his hands in defeat. Derek grabbed his handcuffs behind his belt and stated the Miranda Rights with anger.

-

Hotch didn't waste his time to interrogate John. He tried screaming at him. Yell at him. Yet John didn't say a word to where are your whereabouts. Unfortunately, the man didn't speak for almost 16 hours. He was quiet. He was smart.

"Oh, you're not talking? Then let's talk about your wife. She's the stressor, right? You kidnap women with the same features as your wife because she left you. And when she tried to leave you, you killed her? Isn't that right?"

"Shut up!" John yelled. "You know, Agent.. your wife.. she's pretty." the sound of your name being mentioned lit up flames to his whole body. Jesus, he wants to punch that man right now.

"You know what I did to my wife? I strangled her before slowly but satisfactorily cutting her from head to toe in that fucking basement of her home. Who knows! Your wife will be like that in a few minutes." he laughed manically.

Hotch's anger rose even higher. A lump in his throat was starting to form. When the unsub finally gave a clue to your location, Garcia searched the house of John's ex-wife and sent the location immediately.

"You're gonna rot in prison, Silverstone." Hotch lowly said before leaving the room.

-

The team went to their respective SUVs, driving immediately. Hotch's mind was killing him—all the thoughts of you being wounded, in pain, or even seeing your lifeless body.

As soon as the team arrived, Hotch ordered everyone. Prentiss was on his left while Morgan was on his right. Morgan kicked the door harshly as the three ran towards the basement.

Once you heard footsteps and Aaron's voice, your body relaxed a little.

He's here now.

But before you could shout his name out, your body was grabbed by the remaining unsub. He locked your head with his forearm while he placed a small knife near your neck. You can feel how cold the knife was.

"FBI! Nicholas, put the knife down." Aaron said.

Aaron looked at you with fear and anxiety, all he needed was for you to come back to him safely.

"No! This is for John! I-I will make John proud by killing her without his help!" Nicholas shouted.

Prentiss was too impatient so she triggered the gun, the bullet hitting the unsub's forehead directly. His body fell, blood pooling down his head.

Your legs gave up once you were now away from his grasp. Your face was pale. You were dehydrated so much. Your injuries look severe. There was a lot of dried blood on your body while some fresh scars were seen on your thighs and stomach.

Aaron ran towards you instantly. He gently grabbed your upper body, scanning for more injuries. Tears were starting to form again in your eyes as you felt his safe touch once again.

"It's okay, honey.. I'm here. You'll be alright. Just stay awake for me, okay?" Aaron caressed your hair while looking at you with his adorable eyes. He may seem still professional but his eyes were starting to water and his voice quivered.

Unfortunately, you were too weak to speak. You only answered him with a nod.

"I need an ambulance now," Morgan called.

You looked at your husband once again. Oh, he looks good. You hate seeing him anxious or sad. How you wish you had the energy to stroke his cheek. But despite that, you felt your energy decrease. Your body starts to feel cold and your head feels light. When you looked at Aaron again, your eyesight was getting blurry. Everything felt light.

"No no, (Y/n) stay awake, please. The ambulance is coming— What is taking them so long!"

You tried. Oh, you tried to stay awake but unfortunately, darkness filled you.

-

Aaron was outside the operating room for almost 5 hours now. The team left a few hours ago, leaving him alone. He glances at his wristwatch every minute, tapping his foot anxiously as he waits for the doctor to tell him his condition. He finally cried. Tears were now falling how his face, imagining the worse responses once the doctor comes out of the operating room.

The door suddenly opened. A doctor exited the operating room, their scrubs were stained with some blood.

"For (Y/n) Hotchner?"

Aaron stood up immediately as he heard your name.

"She'll be fine," the doctor announced, a sigh of relief washing out on his body. "But she lost a lot of blood and was severely dehydrated. She's lucky to be alive. She will wake up in a few hours, Mr. Hotchner. You may visit her once the nurses will transfer her to a private room within the hour."

"Thank you, Doctor— Oh God— Thank you."

When you woke up, you were met by this bright light. You adjusted your eyes for a bit before opening them fully. You shifted your eyes to your legs and saw your husband sleeping rather uncomfortably. You called out his name softly, hoping that he'd wake up despite how quiet your voice was.

Aaron woke up and then looked at you. For the first time in 2 days, a smile was printed on his face.

"You're awake, " he said gently, standing up and kissing your forehead, stroking your hair with his fingers. "I thought I had lost you."

"I'm okay now, Aaron. I'm safe and you're with me," you reassured him, interlocking your fingers with his.

"I'm so sorry it took us time to find you."

"It's okay, Aaron. It's not your fault."

"I love you, (Y/n) Hotchner."

"I love you too, Aaron Hotchner." you smiled at him, kissing him back when his lips touched yours.

"Now give me some water; I'm thirsty," you said.

[illdowhatiwantthanks]

Hey could I get an Angsty fic with wife Olivia Benson/Emily Prentiss (which ever you want) where the reader is a detective/profiler and gets hurt badly and Emily/olivia are the ones to find them and they have to keep them awake until the paramedics get there?

You can pick the injury

Hey @yanginginthere! 😊 It's been a minute since I wrote for Olivia, so that's what I did here! Hope you enjoy! –illdowhatiwantthanks

Eyes Open

Olivia Benson x fem!reader Warnings: MAJOR BIG HUGE WARNINGS for gun violence/school shootings, blood, death, etc., medical emergencies, near-death situation, hospitals, explicit language (let me know if I've missed anything!) Word count: 2.0k

Summary: When the rest of the squad is hesitant to enter the scene of a school shooting, you make one of the rashest decisions of your life--one you might not come back from. Your wife, Olivia, races to get to you in time.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, you thought as you watched blood pour from your abdomen. You were on the ground before you knew what was happening, before you could evaluate the situation. You pressed your hands over the gunshot wound, trying not to think about how much blood was seeping between your fingers.

You glanced around the room, panicked, nearly sick to your stomach. The racetrack rug, the little cubbies, the bodies. You wretched and vomited before collapsing onto your back. Your partner, Mendoza, lay on the opposite side of the room, pale, wide-eyed, still. Dead. He was dead. You swallowed back tears. Now was not the time to cry.

The shooter’s blood had sprayed across the bookshelves when you shot him. You couldn’t get close enough to feel for a pulse, but he wasn’t moving. So he was at least incapacitated. What you needed was to call for backup, to get the rest of the cowards from the NYPD–the ones who sat outside to wait for backup while you could hear children screaming–to get their asses in here and help. You and Mendoza had gone in against orders, had ignored a direct command from a superior officer to wait for backup. And, god knows, you’d both paid for it, but if even one child made it out that wouldn’t have otherwise, it would be worth it.

You felt for your radio at your side and groaned when you realized it had been shot by the same bullet that was now lodged inside of you. Your vision was starting to grow fuzzy; it was only a matter of time until you passed out. And who knew how long until backup finally decided to enter the elementary school?

You heard movement and jerked your head to the side to see the very top of a small head poking out from the supply closet.

“Hey!” you shouted, crying out in relief. The child shrank back, and you called, “No, no, no, it’s okay! It’s okay. I know it’s scary. It’s okay, sweetheart. I’m a police officer. I’m here to help you. That man with the gun, he can’t hurt you anymore. But I need your help. Do you think you could come out here and help me?”

The boy poked his head out again, a little bit farther, and you could see that his face was tear-stained, covered in snot. Your heart broke for him. You wanted to cry. You hated to traumatize him further, but you also knew that if you didn’t get backup and EMTs in here as soon as possible, more people were going to lose their lives–including you.

“Hi, honey,” you said as he stared at you, wide-eyed. “My name’s Y/N. What’s yours?”

He sucked in a breath, then shakily replied, “Arturo.”

You nodded. “Arturo. That’s a nice name. You’re being really brave, sweetheart. Is there anyone else in there with you?”

He nodded his head.

“How many people?”

Arturo held up five fingers.

“Five?” you asked, trying to focus your eyes.

He nodded.

“Are there any grown-ups?”

His face screwed up, like he was about to cry, and he shook his head.

“Okay, honey. That’s okay. Listen. Arturo, we need to call for help so the other police officers and the ambulance drivers can get in here and help everybody. Okay?”

He didn’t respond. You pointed to your busted radio. “My walkie talkie broke, but my partner’s should still work. He’s right over there… just–” You shuddered. God, you were having a child grab a device from a dead body. This poor kid. All these poor kids. But you didn’t know what else to do. “Just don’t look at his face or anything,” you told him. “The walkie talkie on his belt, that’s what we need. Can you do that for me, Arturo?”

He shook as he stood, and you could tell he’d wet himself in fear. Tears sprang to your eyes as you watched him wobble toward Mendoza’s body. “You’ve already been so brave, buddy, I just need you to be brave a little bit longer.”

You closed your eyes briefly, trying to fight the dizziness that swam inside your head.

“It’s stuck,” Arturo whimpered, and you snapped your eyes open.

“Okay, buddy,” you said, wracking your brain for a solution. “That’s alright. Umm… there’s a little button on the side, do you see that?”

Arturo nodded, his fingers wet with Mendoza’s blood.

“Alright, just press the button and hold it down, and then repeat what I say. Okay, Arturo?”

“Okay,” he whimpered, holding his little hand against the radio.

You exhaled sharply, as the pain in your abdomen surged. “Say, This is Officer Y/L/N.”

He repeated it, looking at you with wide, scared eyes.

“Badge number 11227.”

You gulped as your vision blurred, trying to be as concise as possible.

“Shooter is down. Officers down. Requesting immediate backup and medical assistance.”

You could feel your body falling out of consciousness, could hear Arturo talking to the other officers through the radio, but it was far away, as if you were in a tunnel.

“Please help,” he cried, fresh tears running down his cheeks. “She’s not talking anymore.”

The last thought you had before blacking out was that your wife would kill you if you died.

“Clear!” Olivia shouted, moving from classroom to classroom at PS 717, gun at the ready. The rest of the officers stopped as needed to help evacuate children and school staff, to give first aid as needed, but she and Elliot were single-minded. They had one job, and she had insisted it be theirs as the NYPD prepared to enter the scene: find the shooter and confirm that he was down.

The last person they had heard from was you. Well, a little boy who had your name and badge number and said all the right things and, therefore, was presumably with you. She was furious with you, furious that you’d gone in without backup, furious that you were so goddamned good and brave, that you would be willing to sacrifice your life for these kids, even though it was one of the things she loved most about you. And, truthfully, underneath all that fury was just plain fear. Absolute terror. Where were you?! Obviously you were hurt if you couldn’t call in yourself. And, from the sound of it, it had been you who took down the shooter.

“Liv!” Elliot yelled from a classroom down, and she sprinted toward him, her heart in her throat. Elliot was already on the radio: “We need medical here stat! East wing of the school, fourth classroom on the right. We’ve got two officers down, shooter down, multiple civilian casualties.”

Olivia burst into the classroom, her eyes quickly taking in the damage: Mendoza down, shooter down, kids crying in the corner, civilians down, and you. Her heart was in her throat as she holstered her gun and dropped to your side.

“No, no, no, baby,” she cried, cradling your limp head and feeling for a pulse. “Stay with me, sweetheart. You are too damn stubborn to go out like this.” Your pulse was thready and weak, as was your breath. She brushed your hair out of your face, trying hard to keep herself breathing, to not fall apart, not yet. She smacked you lightly on the face until you coughed and blinked your eyes open.

Olivia let out a sob of relief and caressed your face, pressing her free hand on top of yours to stifle your bleeding.

“Liv?” you groaned. Then weakly pointed in the direction of the shooter. “Is he…”

“He’s down, baby, he’s dead. You got him.”

You coughed again and winced, your body shaking with cold or trauma or both. “Arturo?” you asked, glancing around for him.

“The little boy?” she clarified. You nodded. “He’s safe, he’s okay. He’s with Elliot.”

Your body started to shake more violently and it was if, finally, the terror of the day had caught up with you. Tears streamed down your face. Your skin was clammy and your breath came in short huffs. You weren’t stupid. You knew what they meant, all the signs in your body: hypovolemic shock. You’d lost too much blood. You were dying.

You’d like to say that, in what you assumed were your dying moments, your life flashed before your eyes, that you thought of everything you’d experienced and everything you’d not yet been able to. But, honestly, you were just scared. And sad to leave Olivia.

“I love you,” you choked out as your eyelids fluttered between open and shut.

“No, no,” Olivia protested, grasping your face in her hands. “Don’t you fucking say goodbye to me, Y/N. This is not fucking goodbye! You keep your eyes open, Officer. That’s a direct order!”

And you really did try. You really did fight to keep Olivia’s face in front of you, her terrified, tear-stained face. You just couldn’t bear to leave her, not like this.

When you finally lost consciousness, Olivia yelling your name was the last thing you heard.

You woke up god knows how much later in a hospital bed, with several wires attached to you and an ungodly amount of pain in your abdomen, not to mention a mouth so dry it felt like your tongue had been left to dehydrate.

Before you knew what was happening, Olivia’s lips were on yours, her hands grasping the side of your face so tightly you thought there was a good chance she might never let you go.

“You fucking asshole,” she cried, her tears wet against your skin. “You almost died!”

She kissed you a few more times for good measure, then leaned back to look at you, your own tears streaming now. She sniffled and wiped your eyes, smiling even as she cried. “Why do you have to be so goddamned brave, huh?”

You shrugged, then winced. “No, no, don’t move!” she exclaimed. “Just… let yourself rest, okay?” She shook her head. “You really scared me.”

“I’m sorry, love,” you croaked out. You blinked tears away and looked at the ceiling, trying hard to banish the mental images of Mendoza, of the blood, of the civilians. “I just… I couldn’t…”

“I know,” she said, taking your hand. “I would’ve done the same thing.”

You coughed and frowned at her. “You better fucking not.”

She pointed to the table next to your hospital bed, stacked with cards and flowers. “You’ve got quite a lot of fans now.”

You shook your head. You didn’t deserve fans. If anyone deserved the recognition, it was Mendoza. You tried not to think of him, knew you’d start crying if you did.

“Here,” Olivia said, holding out a folded sheet of paper. “Read this one. It’s good.”

There was a stick-figure drawing of you as a superhero and a messy, misspelled note:

Dear Ofiser Y/L/N, thak you so much for helpig me be brav and for gettig the bad gy. Yor my heero. Arturo Guerrero.

Your eyes were swimming by the time you finished reading it. You should be the one thanking him.

“The NYPD’s giving you a Medal of Honor, too, when you’re well enough. You’re a hero, honey,” Olivia said, tracing your cheekbone with her thumb. “A dumb, brave idiot of a hero. But my hero, all the same.”

You didn’t know how you felt about this hero business, didn’t feel like you deserved it. You’d just done your job. And your job required a bit more of you this time around.

“Liv,” you ventured, uncomfortable.

“Yeah, baby?”

“Please don’t call me that.”

She furrowed her eyebrows. “A hero?”

You nodded.

“What should we call you then?”

You smiled wryly. “Just Y/N.”

Olivia leaned forward to brush your hair out of your face, staring lovingly at you. “How about love of my life?”

You smiled and squeezed her hand. “Yeah. That’ll do.”

[zombiefiilm]

Next to You

spencer reid x fem!reader

summary: sharing a room with the person in the bau that hates you the most makes you go through more emotions than you thought possible

warnings: kind of enemies to lovers, arguing, crying, no use of y/n, smut, nsfw - 18+ only, apology sex, soft sex, fem oral, protected p in v, praise, typical criminal minds death and unsub mentions

word count: 2.7k

Last minute cases in desolate towns in the midwest often meant that there was nowhere for the team to stay. It wasn't uncommon for you to have to pair or group up with other team members in dodgy motel rooms.

The most recent investigation had brought you all to the middle of nowhere in Nebraska, a long day ending with a drive to an motel that housed 7 rooms in total.

You, Reid and Rossi were the last to arrive so when Prentiss handed you a room key and told you that you would be sharing with Reid, it was already too late to complain.

"It's for your own good" she she grinned, picking her go-bag off the floor beside her.

"I hate you" you sighed.

"Sure you do" she was already walking off. You've been face to face with serial killers regularly, and this was just surviving a few nights in the same room as Spencer Reid, you could do this.

You walked back outside to find Reid standing in the dark by the car, right hand in this pocket and his left leaning against the black SUV.

"Looks like you're with me, Reid" you announced and the way that his face instantly dropped almost knocked you over. It was almost like you'd told him you were about to kill him.

"Come on" you began walking down to room 4, Spencer following shortly behind as you unlocked the door.

Being met with just one double bed though was enough to bring tears to your eyes. The couch looked like it had been through the war and there was no way on earth you were even touching it. And the sigh that Spencer let out made you want to rip your own hair out.

"I'm gonna sleep in the car" you quickly turned around to walk out of the door.

"You're not sleeping outside with a killer targeting women the exact same age as you on the loose" he stopped you in your tracks. He was right. "I can take the couch".

You were a little surprised at the chivalry but thankful none the less. "Are you sure?"

He didn't answer, instead dropping himself onto the couch.

Feeling content with his actions, you dropped your own bag on the floor beside the bed and told him you were going to use the bathroom before cleaning yourself up and changing into the oversized t-shirt you were using as pyjamas.

Coming out of the bathroom again, you were going to tell Reid that he was free to use the bathroom now but he simply glared at you.

It was as if he wanted to make your life hell. He always scowled at you, made snarky comments on little details about you, gloated whenever you got anything wrong. He always drove you up the walls, since you first started at the BAU, and you never knew why.

It's not like you had done anything to him, from what you knew at least. You smiled and shook his hand when you met him and even thought he was cute, you treated him just like you did with everyone else on the team, but you quickly noticed how differently he treated you.

You gave him plenty of time to warm up to you before you let yourself develop any solid opinions on him. You were warned about how he took to knew people, and you were understanding at first. But after you were several months in, and now years, and he still treated you like an outsider, you were no longer shy to expressing your dislike for him.

Other people on the team noticed it too, you, JJ, Garcia and Emily often discussing it with each other, but if one of them ever mentioned Spencer's attitude to himself, he'd deny everything and brush it off.

You really tried to not let it get to you, especially with the support from others, But man, did it upset you.

Spencer eventually got himself ready in the bathroom and came back out, silently setting himself up on the couch as you sat in the bed and did some research. There was a nice silence for a while, and then:

"Could you stop turning the pages so loud" he sounded irritated already and you hadn't even spoken to each other in the past 30 minutes.

"What?" you matched his tone, was he really trying to start a fight with you right now?

"I can't even think with how much noise you're making"

"I'm not making any noise, Reid, what's wrong with you?"

"You're flicking the pages, I can't pay attention to anything else"

"Oh so the sound of paper is able to stop boy genius in his tracks?" you mocked, pissed off at what he was choosing to do do.

He glared at you in response, he looked like he was about to blow a fuse.

"I don't know how to help you here, Reid, I'm trying to work on the case"

"Yeah, trying, it's not like you've ever actually done anything important for one" his voice had raised slightly.

"What?"

"You're practically incompetent, how you got recruited to the bureau, I'll never know" you hadn't even noticed him standing up, but it suddenly made you feel uncomfortable so you got out of the bed too, standing on the opposite side of the room.

"Excuse me?" you were completely shocked now, how had he gotten so far.

"You heard me. You have no place on this team. All you do is mess things up, you can't figure anything out and then you go and let our unsubs go"

Oh

You knew exactly what he was talking about. During one of your first cases, you had unintentionally informed an unsub that the FBI were searching for him during an interview with his wife and he got away. He was dangerous and you had never forgiven yourself for the people who had died before he was finally caught.

You just broke down in tears after that. It felt like he'd re-opened the wound right there and then.

"Fuck you" you spat through tears. You couldn't even look at him now, turning your back to him to sit on the bed.

"Oh my god, I'm so sorry" it was like he had suddenly snapped out of the unexplained rage he was just experiencing.

You felt the bed dip as he sat down behind you, and then a hand rest on your shoulder.

You were edging on losing the ability to breathe. It wasn't even just remembering the worst experience you had on the job, it was the fact that Spencer had used it against you just to get a reaction out of you. You wouldn't have even expected that from him.

He just sat behind you as you attempted to regain some sense of composure, not saying anything else. Was he finally feeling some sense of remorse for how horribly he had been treating you?

Once he noticed that your breathing had slowed, he called out your last name, your work name. It felt so impersonal in that moment. Not that you'd ever been on a first name basis with him, but you gave no reaction to him.

He tried again, squeezing your shoulder this time. You gave him nothing.

But then he whispered your name. Your first name. It was quiet, apologetic.. desperate.

You sniffled, wiping the tears from under your eyes before you turned around to look at him. He was sitting right behind you in the bed now, his big brown eyes practically burning a hole in your head. You knew you probably looked like a mess now, face red and wet, eyes puffy, and hair mangled.

"God, I'm sorry" his hand reached up to wipe a stray tear from your cheek "I'm such an idiot, I can't believe I said that".

You flinched at his touch, not saying anything back to him.

"If I could take that back I would, I did not mean it. It was just in the moment" he tried to hold your face in his hand but you avoided his touch.

"In the moment?" you repeated "What even was that moment. It's like you wanted to have an argument with me for fun".

"I don't want to argue with you, I just.."

"You just hate me" you finished.

"No! I don't hate you, I'm just stupid and don't know how to deal with how I feel about you"

You looked directly into his eyes, eyebrows furrowed. "How you feel about me?"

You managed to catch his gaze as it briefly flicked down to your lips. It felt like something was drawing you closer as you moved towards him.

"Please, let me make it up to you".

"No. Are you saying you've treated me like this because you can't figure out what to do about your feelings for me? What are you? Twelve? You've made my life miserable."

The tears spilled out again, what was he even saying?

"Please, just let me show you how sorry I am"

His voice was laced in what could only be described as desperation, it was making you want to hear him out, forgive him, and you didn't quite know why.

"Please" his voice was on the verge of breaking.

Your walls were crumbling down, it was like he'd cast a spell on you

"please"

You only nodded, allowing him to to lean in closer to you, finally cupping your head in his hands and softly pressing his lips against yours.

It was like he was purposefully avoiding any roughness as he gently kissed, from your lips down your jaw and then down your neck. He looked at you then, his eyes meeting yours in a silent question. And you nodded.

He loosely grabbed the hem of your shirt, and you let him lift it up over your head.

He didn't touch you yet, kissing your lips again as he began to slide your underwear down. You manoeuvred enough for him to take them off you completely. He was so gentle that you didn't even think of feeling self-conscious being completely undressed in front of him.

He urged you to spread your legs and quickly laid down on his stomach in between them.

You barely had time to blink before his lips were on you, kissing up the inside of your thigh. as his hands wrapped around you, holding you down.

Then, he was softly licking up your cunt, softly moaning to himself as he tasted you. He avoided your clit, dragging his tongue everywhere except where you needed him most.

"Spence" the nickname drove him crazy, he finally felt like maybe you could be his.

He finally flicked his tongue over your clit and you couldn't help but push your hips against his face, a whine slipping from your lips.

He only egged you on, using your legs to pull closer to his mouth. He kept circling your clit, increasing the amount of pressure he used as your squirmed under him.

Every few moments, he'd bring his tongue down again, dipping into your hole gently, gathering your slick, before suckling at your clit again.

Slurs of his name, swears and a few 'oh my gods' were the only coherent sounds that could leave your mouth. He had gotten you incredibly sensitive and you felt like you could tip over the edge at any moment.

Spencer himself couldn't stop himself from moaning at your taste, your sounds, how your skin felt under his hands. The vibrations pushing you further.

He suddenly sucked a bit harsher, almost nipping your clit before going back to his previously gentle movements.

The contrast between the rare harsher movements and his gentle attention had you bucking into his face, only to be stopped by his hands pushing you down.

All of a sudden, you felt your release. You moaned much to loud as you writhed under Spencer's mouth, him carrying you through your orgasm.

Just as you felt yourself come down, you went to pull yourself away from Spencer, but he refused to let you, keeping you pinned down to the bed as he let himself taste your release.

"Spencer, please" you were so incredibly sensitive at this point, your body jolting at every small movement. You had to bite the side of your hand to stop yourself from yelling out from the pleasure.

He suddenly pulled off of you with a soft *pop* ad sat up, quickly kicking his trousers and boxers off as you reached forward and loosened his tie and unbuttoned his shirt.

Now that he too was undressed, you felt more equal, it was almost metaphorical as if he was agreeing to end the weird tension between the both of you.

He sat between your legs again, lifting your legs around his hips. You hadn't noticed the condom he had taken out from his pocket until you heard the crinkle of the foil as he opened it.

He quickly rolled it down his shaft as you finally got the chance to look at him. You felt yourself clench in anticipation.

He finally lined himself up and you were subconsciously pushing your hips down towards him.

"Please, Reid" you practically begged as he leaned forward but he stopped at your words.

You looked into his eyes, pleading for him to fill you up, but he didn't.

"Spencer" you whined, and he quickly rutted his hips into you.

"Thats it, good girl" he praised as the air was knocked from your lungs.

He started slow, using one hand to prop himself up and the other to finally caress your skin. It was like he was trying to memorise the curves of your body with one hand. He grabbed at your hips, held your waist, squeezed your breasts, as he slowly picked up his pace.

He couldn't get enough of feeling your body as he pinched your nipple, marvelling at the way it hardened further.

"God, you're so beautiful" his hand finally fell down to your clit, rubbing small circles in time with his thrusts.

You couldn't even get a single word out at this point, too tired and desperate to say anything.

"I'm so sorry baby" if he didn't have your attention before, the name had definitely gotten it now. "I'll be so good for you from now on" you could tell he was close from the waver in his voice, but you too felt your 2nd release approaching.

"You're so perfect" his rambling was interrupted by groans, "never want to leave your side ever again" his thrusts had last there rhythm as he circled your clit quicker, desperate to get you to cum before him.

It didn't take long for the coil in your stomach to snap, vision blurring as he continued his thrusts. Not much after, he plunged into you one last time. You could feel him coming inside as he filled up the condom, his chest now flush against yours.

You both laid there for a few moments, enjoying the hot, sticky embrace as you caught your breathe.

Silently, Spencer pulled out, taking off the condom and throwing it in the trash before pulling his boxers on. He then got you cleaned up, helping you put on your own underwear afterwards, before you got into the bed.

He tried to walk over to the couch but you were not letting that happen. “Get in here Reid" you muttered, laughing quietly as he practically jumped in beside you.

As he faced you in the bed, he brushed a stray hair behind your ear. "I'll make it up to you, I'm sorry, about everything" he kissed you once more, it would take more time for you to forgive him, but for now you let yourself fall asleep in his arms.

[yourmomxx]

Emily Prentiss(chief or not cheif) X Fem!Reader have been secretly married for several years, (if emily is cheif they’ve been dating since she was an agent and then married when she was a cheif and if not obviously the opposite). No ike knows or expects emily to be in a relationship because she doesn’t say anything until one day she forgets her badge and lunch at home so her wife brings her stuff and the whole place is shocked ? bonus if tara or someone flirts with her

a/n: ooh, I love me some secret relationship trope! Unfortunately, I'm still only on season 5/6 of Criminal Minds, so I just kept Emily as an Agent and not as Chief, if that's alright (Tara is in it, though ;)). I hope you like this, anon!

— ❝ɪɴ ᴛʜɪs ᴛᴇᴀᴍ, ᴇᴠᴇʀʏᴏɴᴇ ᴋɴᴏᴡs ᴇᴠᴇʀʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ᴇᴠᴇʀʏᴏɴᴇ. Tʜᴇʀᴇ’s ɴᴏ ᴘʀɪᴠᴀᴄʏ. Mʏ ᴘᴇʀsᴏɴᴀʟ ʟɪfᴇ ɪs ᴏɴᴇ ᴛʜɪɴɢ ʟᴇss ᴛʜᴇʏ ᴄᴀɴ ᴘʀᴏfɪʟᴇ.❞ —

-Jennifer Jareau

Emily Prentiss was a private person. She prided herself in it.

I mean try it, hiding something from an entire office of educated professionals in degrees on how to read the most subtle shifts in a persons behavior and building a view based on that information.

Of course, let’s not forget, there’s the general rule, or rather, interdict, of profiling the other members of your team. But sometimes, you can’t help yourself.

Emily had noticed it in herself more times than she would like to admit.

Sometimes, it happened as easy as breathing, a natural trail of thought that let loose when she caught on about something or the people around her. She tried to undermine it as quickly as possible whenever she realized she was doing it, though.

It’s not the fact that she didn’t trust them.

No, that was never the thing, those people were like her second family. Or her first even, maybe.

But after spending almost every waking hour of the past years of her life around them, there were some things that she would rather keep for herself.

Leave them be in their own bubble that was just ‘Emily Prentiss’.

And when she talked about ‘things’, then she was actually talking about you.

The team could find out about her pregnancy, about her resentment towards the church. They could know that she had a phase at fourteen where she liked licorice and hasn’t been able to eat it since those dreadful seven months, or that she still hated her father for being emotionally unavailable and leaving her to deal with her mother on her own; they could know that.

But they couldn’t know about you. Never you.

This is wasn’t an issue of trust, again.

Trust was never in the mix when she made the decision, every morning before work, to lay off her wedding ring and keep it safe on a small chain in her back pocket.

But you were her safe place. A rock, a tow, something for her to hold on to, the only thing that was in no way connected to her work place.

Emily loved you, she did so much, and she’d known it after the first time she saw you smile, and accepted it during the first time she kissed you.

And hiding you, keeping you safe from all of this, was her way of shedding off the horrors and traumas of her job when she came home at night, completely tune out whatever she had experienced mere hours before, and dive back into you.

Your shared house, shared bed, shared sheets, shared kitchen, shared table.

Not talking about you, or even admitting you existed, while she worked and saw the worst sides of what humanity had to offer, drew a distinct line between her life with you and the life she led at work.

Call it a personal protective shield.

So, no, she would never, ever tell them.

“No. For God’s - No.”

Which is why, when Emily Prentiss walked into the bureau that morning, and realized her credentials weren’t in their designated pocket, and also her bag was empty of her lunch box, she knew that she was doomed.

Emily knew about your caring side. The loving, mothering, always everyone's shoulder to cry on-side.

Hell, if she was being honest, it was one of the reasons she started falling so hard for you so easily.

In that moment, though? God, how she wished she would have chosen a narcissist.

(Not literally, though. She'd profiled guys like that before. They really weren't wife- or husband material.)

You had just been on your way out of the house when you had seen your wife's dark lunch box still residing on the counter top where you had prepared it for her an hour ago.

After a quick look at the time on your phone screen, you had short-handedly decided to slightly delay your trip to the pharmacy for some mundane refills, and drop by Emily's office to bring her her lunch.

After all, you knew how busy she could get, and how her focused state had the power to drown out every other basic need her body had.

If you wouldn't make lunch for her, she wouldn't have the time, or the head, to think of buying something for herself, you knew that.

One would think that was clear after almost an entire year of marriage.

The thought alone brought a smile to your face.

You grabbed your car key off the counter and hurried your way out the door, closed it behind you, halted for a moment - and slowly backed up inside again.

You eyed the black case next to the key bowl suspiciously.

"That wasn't there yesterday," You muttered to yourself.

Cautiously, because when your wife worked in the FBI, anything was possible, you reached for the leather-bound case and drew it closer to you.

When you opened it, the tension immediately left your shoulders. You shook your head sighing at the sight of your wife's passport picture and the huge, dark blue letters FBI showing themselves to you.

"Oh, Emily, what am I gonna do with you?"

When you left the house then, it was final.

Hopefully.

"What's up with you, you seem stressed out?"

Emily did her best not to flinch in her already tense state when JJ came up next to her.

She managed her best, reassuring smile and pressed her sweating palms into the side of her jeans.

"Oh, it's nothing," She lied. "Just thought I lost something."

JJ raised an eyebrow. "Alright," She muttered. "If you say so."

Then, she crashed a light brown paper file into Emily's chest.

"This just came in from El Paso, three homicides so far. I'll inform the rest of the team and we'll meet in the briefing room in ten."

Emily couldn't do more than nod, and just managed to grab the file before it slipped to the floor when JJ left.

She wasn't usually like this. She was good at keeping her head in the game.

But right now, the fact that her credentials were missing wasn't exactly stressing her out, because she knew that you would bring them to her as soon as you realized that she had forgotten them at home.

Emily was stressed out because she knew you would bring them to her.

What she didn't know, was, however she should act and how the team would possibly take it.

The elevator you entered took a tremendous amount of time to realize which floor you wanted to go to, and even longer to slide the doors closed and jerking to a start.

You would think that in an official federal office building, the mechanics could be more advanced.

Then again, counting the many times Emily complained about the budget allocation of the bureau when she tought you weren't listening, maybe you shouldn't be all that surprised.

The doors slid closed when the thought suddenly hit you.

You were about to enter your wife's office. Which you had never been to, not once in your life and only knew the address of because goddamn, was it hard to miss.

The building that was probably the only thing that Emily had wanted to keep you out of for as long as she could.

And you came here for a lunch box.

Emily knew you knew. You had talked to her about it, she had answered your questions on why she always got fussy when you asked her how you could finally meet her team, and you had understood, every time, but this?

She couldn't just ask you to actively lie about your relationship in front of most of - all of - her friends, could she?

The last time she had checked your location, it had already shown you in close vacinity to the BAU building. She could figure what was ahead.

Was she about to deny a relationship?

“Can I help you?”

This office had way too many doors, in your opinion, and way too few signs telling you where to find what.

The greeting voice made you look up, and you automatically shifted into your politeness to strangers-mode, upon seeing a woman come up to you, wearing a two-piece and her hair in loose curls.

A very pretty woman, you had to admit.

"My name's Tara Lewis," She introduced herself, "Who are you looking for, sweetheart?"

You quickly waved her off. “Oh, I don’t work here.”

Tara tipped her head, eyes not so subtly shifting up and down your appearance.

“I figured as much, I would have remembered a face like yours.”

You managed an awkward laugh.

Emily had once, in good fun, told you you were easily caught off guard by people showing genuine interest in you all of a sudden.

You hated when she was right.

Speak of the devil, and he shall appear.

Just over Tara Lewis' shoulder, you were suddenly able to spot the dark hair that indicated Emily Prentiss approaching from behind her.

You nodded in her direction in recognition, as she came to a halt next to Tara Lewis.

"I'm a friend of Emily's," You lied, and by God, you did it so neatly, Emily was questioning if she had maybe already dragged you down without realizing.

"She texted me that she forgot her lunch and her badge, and since we're close to each other, she asked me to get it for her."

That polite smile was still present on your face, and your voice pitched slightly higher than usual.

You threw Emily small looks in-between, unspotted by the usual eye, but she noticed them.

You were telling her to go along, to play the game, string it all a bit further until it turned into a web that could either wrap around and suffocate her, or catch her when she stumbled.

And she probably should.

Because you made it easy. You had made it so easy for her, laid it out like a red carpet for her to walk on, the lie, that could keep her sanctuary safe-

"I'm married."

In the midst of talking to Tara, your words died in your throat and your mouth stopped, hanging open.

Tara herself whipped her head around so fast, it was a question if she was breaking her neck, eyes ripped wide open in complete and utter schock.

It was quiet. In-between the three of you, a needle dropping would have echoed like the loudest drum.

"Say what now?" Tara didn’t take her eyes off Emily for a moment.

Slowly, movement seemed to re-enter your muscles and your eyes widened at the absolute extent of what had just happened.

"What are you doing?" You hushed at Emily.

Your wife's gaze - who you loved dearly, but in situations like these, could just hold by the shoulders and shake, shake, shake - tumbled between you and her co-worker, and you could almost decipher the exact moment she graciously invited the 'fuck it'-attitude.

Emily's shoulders dropped.

"I'm married," She repeated. Calm, collected, and slow.

All of the things you were totally not feeling right now.

"This is Y/N." Emily stepped next to you and held you gently by your wrist. "My wife."

And if the English Dictionary had demonstrating pictures next to each word, Tara Lewis' face right now would be pinned under 'bafflement'.

It took a moment, actually it took a few, for the Doctor to collect herself again.

She straightened her shoulders, cleared her throat, and shook herself out, as if to remove any unnecessary consideration that kept her from thinking clearly.

"Who knows about this?" It was her first question.

Where your shoulders were ever so slightly touching, you could feel Emily's body stay tense.

"Not really anyone," She admitted.

"Why didn't you tell us?"

Emily shook her head. "Y/N is my personal life," She cleared. "I spend almost every awake minute with you people. I wanted something to myself."

As subtly as you could, you leaned your body the slightest bit closer to her. It wasn't visible to the lazy eye, but Emily could feel it.

She squeezed your wrist.

You were comfort to her.

Tara's eyes flew between the two of you, contemplating, observing.

Then, from one moment to another, her lips broke into a blinding grin.

"A wife," She repeated. Emily ripped her eyes open to interpret her friend that she should keep her voice down.

"Good for you," Tara smiled.

Emily visibly relaxed. A breath she had been holding escaped her lungs soundly.

"Let's just be clear," She told Tara, "This is still my thing." She gestured to you. "My marriage is still my thing. I don't need the entire team on me like vultures, profiling my love life like they do everything else."

Tara nodded earnestly. Her small curls were bumping up and down. She pulled her fingers across her lips and pretented to turn a key in the corner of her mouth.

"My lips are sealed." She threw the imaginary key far, far behind the office desks. "Lovergirl."

Emily ignored her and turned to you.

Your fingers lingered around hers in the movement.

"Thank you," She breathed out quietly. A soft smile played around your lips as you looked into her eyes, recognizing that specific gentleness that you knew she only gifted you with.

"Anytime."

You placed her lunch box in her hands. "It's rice with some peas and corn." Emily smiled. "You're the best."

"And, before I forget-" You pulled out the badge from your bag, but instead of giving it to Emily directly, you opened her suit jacket and found the inner pocket, safely storing the credentials where you knew she kept them every day.

You smoothed out the jacket when you were done.

"There you go."

Emily didn't even know what to say. That warm feeling, that she felt in her entire body every time she looked at you, realized who you were and who you were to her, it made itself known in this moment right now.

Right here, in the middle of her workspace.

And with all the horrors she'd see, it was probably the most content she had felt in this place in a while.

"You are so amazing." The words didn't come close to what she was feeling.

But the way your eyebrows loosened, and your lips slightly parted, she knew you understood.

"This is so sweet, and I hate to be that person, but Prentiss, we have a case to get to."

Emily cleared her throat, being ripped from whatever that moment had been, and reminded on what ground she was standing right now.

"Right," She said. She opened her arms and leaned in to pull you into a hug.

A hug, not a kiss on the cheek.

She wasn't that far yet.

"It's okay." The feeling of your breathed words tickled near her ear. "I understand."

Emily squeezed you a bit tighter.

"Get home safe."

You slowly broke away from the embrace.

"I will," You promised.

Tara mouthed a quick 'I'm so sorry' in your direction. You laughed and waved her a goodbye, before you headed for the elavator again, and she got on her way to follow after Emily, who had already made her way to where JJ had ordered them a few minutes ago.

Tara endured until the top step.

"Oh.my.God. I can't believe it!" She almost squealed as they made their way next to each other to the briefing room.

"Look at us, sharing secrets now. Ah." She shook out her shoulders. "I feel like this is a pyjama party in junior year all over again. Amazing."

Emily couldn't do anything else than grin at Tara's antics.

Suddenly, her pocket vibrated with a short tune, and Emily pulled out her phone to check her display.

It was a message from you. Emily smiled softly as she read it.

Have a good day, my sun. Will hopefully see you tonight<3

"A message from boo?" Tara mocked, and tried to peak over Emily's shoulder.

Emily quickly shut off the display, stuffed her phone back into her backpocket and continued walking.

"I don't know what you're talking about!"

But the lovesick smile didn't leave Emily's face for the rest of the way to the briefing room, partly because she was so caught up in her thoughts about the specific feeling of your skin, that she didn't even notice she was wearing it.

[ghsface]

It's okay to cry. It's okay to not be okay...

Bau team x bau!reader

Sumary: Sometimes I need to remind myself and others that survival doesn’t just mean being okay, it means learning to laugh at what scared us. And if I don’t do it, who else will?

Warnings: mentions of attempted suicide, lots of blood, some dark humor at the end, cuts on arms, bathtub full of blood, no use of t/n (if you don't feel good reading this please don't read it, I also tried to approach this topic with too much care and delicacy and respect, I hope not to offend anyone)

Author's note: September is suicide prevention month. "suicide is a permanent solution to a temporary problem" is something that you always hear people say.. and it's true.

speaking from my personal experience, it's something that was on my mind many months many years ago, and I was able to put those thoughts aside thanks to people who I thought were never going to help me, it was a long and very hard process but now I can tell you that I'm completely fine, once they told me if you have people to write a farewell letter to it's because at least someone cares about you, you may have heard this before but it's true, you will always have someone to support you even if you think you have no one, also once they told me if you ever have these thoughts again or even try again ask for help it doesn't matter who just ask for help, whatever way ask for help, those words marked me almost all of my adolescence tbh and it helped me, I hope that if you are going through this alone, you can talk to me, my messages will always be open for whatever it is help or just talking, feel free to do so, if you read this up to here I really appreciate that you did<333

The BAU team was uneasy. It wasn't often that someone on their team disappeared without a trace, much less you. Emily Prentiss had been the first to notice your absence, as you never missed work without notice. Days ago, you had requested a brief leave for personal matters, but you hadn't returned to the office or answered any calls or messages since. As the days passed, worry turned to fear.

JJ, Spencer, and Emily decided to go to your house, as they could no longer ignore the fact that something wasn't right. The atmosphere in the car was tense. JJ kept his hands tightly on the wheel, while Spencer stared out the window, his mind wandering through thousands of possibilities, each one worse than the last. Emily, in the backseat, checked her phone over and over again, hoping in vain to receive some news from you.

When they arrived at your house, the silence was deathly. The windows were closed, and the door seemed intact, but there was something in the air, something that made them hold their breath. Emily pulled out her gun, and after exchanging a worried look with JJ and Spencer, they decided to go inside.

“anyone home?” JJ shouted as she walked down the hallway to the entrance. There was no response.

Spencer’s heart was pounding as they made their way into the living room. Everything was in order, not a sign of a struggle, but something wasn’t right. Every step they took, every corner they inspected, increased the feeling that something terrible had happened.

It was Emily who first noticed the bathroom door ajar. She approached it slowly, holding her breath, as a dark foreboding took hold of her. Pushing open the door, the scene she found was enough to make her stomach turn.

There you were, in the bathtub, submerged in the red-tinged water. Your arms hung at your sides, covered in deep cuts, blood still slowly flowing from the wounds.

“Oh my God!” JJ exclaimed from the doorway, her voice cracking.

Spencer walked into the room behind her, and for a second, the world seemed to stop. She’d never felt such paralyzing fear, such sharp pain in her chest. The air became thick, almost impossible to breathe.

Emily was the first to react, rushing to you, her hands shaking as she tried to pull your unconscious body out of the water. “Call an ambulance, JJ!” she screamed, trying to stay calm, though her hands were shaking uncontrollably.

Spencer knelt beside you, her eyes flooding with tears. “You can’t do this... you can’t leave us like this,” she whispered, her voice thick with desperation.

JJ tried to call 911, but the desperation in his voice made the words catch in his throat. He finally managed to give the address, but the operator informed him that the ambulance would take a while to arrive due to an accident on the main road. Without wasting any more time, JJ made a decision. “We can’t wait, we have to take her ourselves!”

Without thinking twice, the three of them carried you out of the bathroom, wrapping you in towels to stop the bleeding. Spencer held you, his hands still stained with your blood, as they rushed you to the car.

The trip to the hospital was agony. Every second that passed, every breath you took, or stopped taking, was like a stab in the heart of each of them. Emily, driving at full speed, struggled not to lose concentration while JJ, from the backseat, pressed on your wounds, trying to keep you conscious. Spencer kept talking to you, murmuring words of encouragement, pleading with you not to leave, to stay with them.

Finally, they arrived at the hospital, and the doctors immediately took you into surgery. The BAU team, who had been alerted, arrived soon after. Hotch, Rossi, Morgan, and Garcia joined Emily, JJ, and Spencer in the waiting room. The hours passed slowly, each minute a silent torture as they waited for news from you.

Spencer kept staring at his hands, your words echoing in his mind. He couldn’t shake the image of you, limp and lifeless in that bathtub. He felt helpless, riddled with guilt for not realizing what was happening to you. He loved you, more than he’d ever dared to admit, and the thought of losing you was too painful to bear.

Finally, the doctor emerged from the operating room, his expression grave. “She’s stable for now, but the blood loss was significant. We had to suture multiple wounds and are monitoring for possible nerve damage. It’s a miracle they brought her in on time.”

The relief was palpable, but so was the sadness. They knew that even though you had survived, the battle wasn’t over. They would have to face the reasons why you had gotten to that point, figure out what had happened, and most of all, be there for you, to help you heal.

Spencer walked up to the ICU door, looking at you through the glass. His eyes filled with tears, he rested a hand on the glass. “I’m sorry… I didn’t realize how bad you were,” he whispered, feeling the weight of guilt crushing him.

Emily and JJ accompanied him, each feeling a mix of relief and pain. They knew the road to your recovery would be long and difficult, but they were determined to be by your side every step of the way, no matter what it took.

When you were finally able to open your eyes days later, the first thing you saw were the tired but relieved faces of your teammates. You knew you had plunged into a darkness that seemed insurmountable, but seeing the people who loved you by your side, you knew you wouldn’t be alone on the road back to the light.

The dim glow of the hospital’s fluorescent lights welcomed you back into the conscious world. Your head hurt, and you felt the weight of the blankets on your body, but what caught your attention the most was the soft sound of someone breathing next to you. You slowly turned your head and met the tired, worried eyes of Spencer, who had been watching over you.

“Spencer…” your voice came out as a whisper, rough from lack of use and medication. You were surprised at how weak you felt, as if a large part of you had vanished.

He sat up instantly, his eyes filling with relief at seeing you awake. “You’re awake…” he said in a tone that reflected a mix of joy and pain. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry... If I had known… If I had noticed something…” The weight of his guilt hit you hard. Even though every fiber of your being was exhausted, you couldn’t let Spencer carry that pain. But before you could answer, the door to the room opened, and Emily and JJ rushed in, closely followed by Hotch and Rossi.

Emily approached you, tears in her eyes, but keeping her composure. “You scared the hell out of us,” she said softly, gently taking your hand. “You don’t have to go through this alone, understand? We’re here for you, always.” JJ sat on the other side of the bed, his blue eyes filled with concern. “Whatever you’re going through… you can tell us. You don’t have to carry this alone.”

The room was filled with a heavy silence, everyone waiting for you to say something, anything to help them understand what had brought you to this point. You knew they were worried, that they wanted to help you, but it wasn’t easy to put into words the storm that had been building inside you.

“I’m sorry,” you murmured, your voice breaking, feeling tears build up in your eyes. “I didn’t want them to know… I didn’t want to be a burden.”

Spencer looked at you in pain, his hands shaking slightly as he took yours. “You would never be a burden to us. Never.”

Hotch, who had been watching silently, stepped forward. His voice was firm, but with a tinge of compassion that he rarely showed. “You don’t have to face this alone. Whatever you’re feeling, whatever led you to this, we’re going to be with you every step of the way.”

Hotch’s words, so simple and full of promise, were what finally broke the dam. The tears you’d been holding back for so long began to flow, and with them came a wave of emotions you’d been suppressing: the despair, the loneliness, the pain that had consumed you in silence.

Emily wrapped her arms around you, holding you with a strength that anchored you in the present. “It’s okay to cry. It’s okay to not be okay,” she whispered, her voice shaking with her own pent-up emotions.

For the first time in what seemed like forever, you felt like you could breathe, if only barely. The lump in your chest didn’t go away entirely, but the presence of your peers, your friends, gave you the strength you needed to start talking, to share what you’d been keeping to yourself.

You told them about the pressure you’d felt, the feeling that you were failing, that you couldn’t live up to expectations. You told them how each day had gotten harder to bear, until one day you just couldn’t take it anymore. The words came out in fits and starts, mixed with sobs, but they listened to each one with patience and understanding.

There was no judgment, just support. And as you spoke, little by little, you began to feel the weight that had been weighing you down begin to lighten, if only a little.

When you finally finished, the silence that followed wasn’t awkward. Spencer was still holding your hand, and his gaze reflected both pain and resolve. “You’re not alone in this. You won’t be anymore,” he said firmly.

Hotch nodded. “We’ll have to work together to get through this, but we will. We’ll help you find the support you need, and we’ll be here for you, too.”

Rossi, who had been watching from the back, came over and gently patted you on the shoulder. “Remember, that’s what family is for, to be there in the worst times and the best too.”

At that moment, although you knew the road ahead would be long and difficult, you also knew that you wouldn’t walk it alone. The team weren't just your colleagues, they were your family, and with them by your side, you began to believe that, perhaps, you could find a way to heal.

And although the darkness still lurked, the light of hope, however small, began to shine again.

ONE YEAR LATER...

1 year into recovery brought with it a new version of you, a version that, while still scarred, both physically and emotionally, was fully committed to moving forward with humor and gratitude. You had rejoined the team fully and found a balance between work, your personal life, and your healing process. Your colleagues had learned to appreciate your new style of humor, even when you surprised them with your comments from time to time.

One afternoon, while you were in the office cafeteria with Emily, JJ, and Garcia, you decided to break the silence with a joke, something you had perfected over those past few months.

“Did you know I’ve developed a new skill?” you said, as you poured yourself a coffee. The three womens looked at you curiously. “Now I can say that I’m an expert in abstract art. I just need something sharp and a bad day.”

There was a moment of surprise, but then Emily was the first to laugh, shaking her head. “You know, no one handles dark humor like you.”

JJ nodded, smiling. “True, but at least now we know you do it with complete command of the situation. Although I will never stop being amazed by your ability to make jokes out of something so serious.”

“Well, my traumas, my jokes,” you said with a wink, and the group burst into laughter. They had learned to take your humor as a sign of your progress, a way to remind yourself and them that you were in control, that you wouldn’t let yourself be overcome by the darkness that once trapped you.

Garcia, who until now had been listening in silence, smiled and gave you a gentle nudge. “You know, I think you should consider writing a self-help book: ‘How to survive work and not go crazy. ’ It could be a best-seller.”

“Sure, with special chapters on how to choose something sharp and how not to use them when you have a bad day,” you joked, and everyone laughed again.

Towards the end of the day, as you were gathering your things to head home, you ran into Rossi in the hallway. He looked at you with his typical knowing expression, but with a spark of amusement in his eyes.

“You know, kid I love seeing you make those jokes. It’s a sign that you’re okay, but it’s also a reminder of how far you’ve come.”

You smiled at him, nodding. “Yeah, Dave, I know. Sometimes, I need to remind myself and others that surviving doesn’t just mean being okay, but learning to laugh at what scared us. And if I don’t do it, who else will?”

Rossi let out a soft laugh. “You know, you can always count on me to be your audience. I’m not as good an audience as Spencer, though.”

“Thanks, Dave. I’ll keep that in mind for my next show.”

As you left, you knew you were surrounded by people who understood you, who supported you, and who accepted every part of you, even the darkest ones. But most importantly, you knew you had found a way to move forward: with a smile on your face, a joke on your lips, and a team that, no matter what, would always be by your side.

And as you walked out the door, ready to face whatever came next, you couldn’t help but make one last comment to yourself. “Well, if I survived the bathtub, I’m ready for anything. I just hope there’s more wine and less blood next time.”

your reblogs and replies are always appreciated dearly🫧

[elizabethsnuts]

hii! regarding your toddler requests, could you maybe write Emily Prentiss teaching her daughter how to walk? 🥹

Baby Steps

Emily Prentiss x Daughter!Reader

Summary: Emily had been trying to teach you how to walk, even if you much preferred to crawl.

———

You weren’t exactly the most eager to walk, you preferred to scurry around on your tiny hands and knees. Though Emily was always trying to get you to walk, holding up your favourite toys, snacks, anything she could think of she tried.

“Come on N/N, come to Mama! Come on! Walk to Mama!” Emily cooed to you as she crouched with her arms out, standing a few feet away.

You stared at Emily and giggled, falling from your standing position to your hands and knees. You quickly crawled over to Emily with a big smile on your cute little face.

Emily let out a lighthearted groan, smiling. She picked you up under your arms and kissed your cheek. “No! Y/N you’re supposed to walk, not crawl! You’re so silly!”

You just giggled and cuddled Emily, waving around your blankie. You just didn’t want to walk, why try and balance on your two tiny wobbly legs when you could just go so much faster crawling?

“Are you going to walk at all? Ever? I bet you find this funny, so funny watching Mama try to get you to walk.” Emily smirked and stood you up on your feet.

“Mama.” You clapped your hands and smiled, looking up at Emily.

Emily just chuckled and set you down. “Yes, yes, yes. I guess you’ll walk when you want to, or maybe you can and just enjoy watching me struggle.”

———

A couple of days later, JJ and Henry came over, you love playing with Henry and seeing your aunty JJ. Emily and JJ were in the kitchen, just talking and keeping an eye on you and Henry who were in the living room.

“How old was Henry when he started walking?” Emily looked at JJ curiously, taking a sip of her coffee.

“I think he was 12 or 13 months? He was an eager walker.” JJ smiled and leaned against the counter.

Emily sighed and rubbed her forehead. “Y/N still isn’t walking yet! I’m getting worried, I just don’t want her to fall behind.”

JJ gave Emily a sympathetic smile. “Don’t stress about it, Em. She’ll walk when she’s ready, most babies start walking between 12-15 months. She’s fine, some babies just like crawling anyway.” JJ chuckled.

Emily gave her best friend a small smile and chuckled. “I guess so, I do hope she starts walking soon though, even if that means extra baby-proofing.”

You quickly came crawling into the kitchen, giggling loudly. Emily laughed and picked you up, setting you on her hip. “Speak of the devil! What are you up to, little miss? Walking any time soon?”

You just grinned and giggled, patting Emily’s cheek. You gave JJ a wave and blew her a kiss. Henry came into the kitchen as well with his toy truck, waving it around.

Emily and JJ’s phone suddenly rang in their pockets, making them groan a little knowing it was probably another case. Emily sighed and pulled her phone out of her pocket. “I’ll call Elle, see if she can watch them.”

JJ nodded and picked up Henry. “That’d be good, I would call Will but he’s at work.” JJ turned to Henry and smiled. “You want to stay with Aunty Elle and Y/N?”

Elle eventually arrived, JJ and Emily grabbing their go bags and getting ready to say goodbye. Emily came over to you and kissed your cheek, hugging you. “Bye-bye, sweet girl. Mama will be home soon, I love you so much.”

You watched Emily start to walk away, you let out a cry and reached your tiny hand out to Emily. “Mama!”

Emily sighed and gave you another wave goodbye, still walking towards the front door. “I know, sweetheart, but Mama has to go. You’ll have fun with Aunty Elle!”

You kept crying, grabbing the side of the couch to pull yourself up to stand. You took your first shaky and wobbly steps over to Emily, reaching your tiny arms out. “Mama!”

Emily gasped and dropped her go-bag, holding her arms out to catch you. “Y/N, baby, you’re walking! You’re walking! Come to Mama!”

“Mama!” You sniffled and kept taking tiny steps over to Emily, stumbling slightly.

Emily caught you and lifted you into her arms, hugging you tightly. “Oh, Y/N! You did it! You did it, gorgeous girl! You’re walking! Good girl, you’re so smart, you did it! You finally walked for Mama!”

You hugged Emily tightly, you didn’t care about the milestone you had just achieved, you didn’t want your mama to leave. “Mama.”

Emily nodded and kissed your cheek, stroking your hair. “I know baby, Mama will just stay for a little bit longer. I love you so much.”

Even if it meant Emily was late, she would still rather stay with you. Even if you drove her crazy sometimes, you were still her little girl who had just taken your first steps.

[dontsh0vethesun]

be quiet

masterlist

emily prentiss x reader

18+: smut; emily has a penis, blowjobs, office sex, lowkey humiliation, talks of punishment, dom!emily, cockwarming kinda??but using a mouth lol, angry emily

a/n - inspired by an ask that i cannot find | wc: 1.1k

You’d known it was inevitable that talking back to her would have its repercussions but having her belittle you for a minor mistake in the field with all of your colleagues around to hear was beyond humiliating. 

You should have stayed silent and bitten your tongue. But the flush to her neck as she raised her voice, the way you were shrinking beneath the harshness of her tone despite how desperately you tried not to, only bubbled the anger up your throat. Your words were spat back at her with malice, utterings of her need to control those around her, and her overreaction at the situation. They’d taken aback not only herself but the onlookers to the tension-fueled argument. You were soon dismissed and ushered back to your desk while she stalked to her office with a slam of her door behind her. 

You’d not seen her for hours and you were hoping the atmosphere would have diffused by this evening considering she was the one who’d driven you to work this morning. 

Emily, however, had been ruminating on her fury the entire time. Her jaw was beginning to hurt with the way it was so tightly clenched and the work in front of her that she had been working on was now becoming haphazardly completed due to the attention she was paying to thoughts of you instead.

Her annoyance at you oftentimes is accompanied by an arousal and need to dominate you - to put you in your place. She’s convinced you do it on purpose just to be on the receiving end of her wrath. It’s just like you to be desperate for her rough hand. 

She thought back to just the previous night when she had you beneath her and crying out her name for hours on end, clambering onto her body as though it was your lifeline, the way your breathless body panted and moaned under hers with her fingers in your mouth and her dick fucking you into the mattress whilst you begged her for more. She couldn’t get enough. 

And now, with these memories freshly implanted into her mind and her skin so hot she had to rid herself of her blazer lest the anger fuelled heat burn her skin, she could feel herself getting harder by the second. She wanted you. She was ravenous and starving for you, aching in her jeans to keep your slutty mouth silent. 

She picked up her phone to send you a message and peeked out through the blinds of her office windows to watch your attention be taken by the vibration beside you. She watched you read her instruction and positioned herself in her chair when she watched you make your way to her, legs splayed and her arms sporting rolled up shirt sleeves resting on the arms of the seat. 

“Come here,” she spoke. No greeting to ease the tension, just a gesture to the ground between herself and her robust desk. 

You could see her growing bulge from where she’d been palming at herself with all of the thoughts running through her mind, she was needy for you and your lips but she didn’t want to hear a word. You didn’t even dare to mutter a teasing comment at her obvious desperation. You just did as she wanted - you only ever wanted to obey her - taking your place on your knees as she’d silently instructed once you had approached. 

“If you’re gonna use that fucking mouth to be bratty, you can use it now,” she rasped, unbuckling her belt to release her hard cock. “I don’t want to ever, hear you talk back to me at work.”

“Em, I’m sor-”

“No talking,” she interrupted with a harsh grip around your neck halting your words. “If I have to force you to be quiet, that’s what I’m going to do.”

She left no room for argument, not that you’d even try underneath the harsh and dark eyes she scrutinised you with. Instead, you let her push your head down, parting your lips for the tip of her cock, moaning slightly at the taste of the precum that landed on your tongue when you licked the head. You knew what she liked and she groaned out above you at the feeling. 

Her nails bore into into your scalp, long fingers tangled up in your hair as she orchestrated every single movement of your head, merely using your mouth as something to fuck. As long as it kept you quiet. 

Just as she’d eased each inch into your throat, her phone rang out into the quiet of the room. You thought that this would mean a slight, if momentary, reprieve of the cock that filled your mouth and nudged so deeply into you. But, when Emily has a punishment in mind she doesn’t carry it out leniently. 

She forced your head to still when she answered the phone and spoke for much longer than was necessary, only smirking darkly with each glance she darted at your head in her lap. Your jaw ached and your lips salivated around her length, tears streaked down your cheeks at the way you gagged around her. 

Your hands dug into her hips, holding onto her just hoping she’d set you free but she kept you in your place. There was no possibility for any semblance of movement. She enjoyed the helpless way you sporadically gasped for breath. 

“There’s something so pretty about seeing you so quiet,” she murmured once she’d placed the phone back onto its receiver. “I knew my good girl was still in there.”

It was only then that she let you pull away for just a moment to catch your breath but she soon pushed your lips into the head of her throbbing cock, she was more aroused than ever with how the heat of your mouth had had her aching.

Your head bobbed in her lap, lips around her shaft and your tongue licking the skin with each glide over it. Her hips lifted from the leather of her cushioned chair, her head leaning back with her bottom lip caught between her teeth at the pleasurable feelings coursing through her. 

“Fuck, you feel so good, sweet girl,” she murmured. “I’m gonna cum into that slutty mouth of yours.”

Her words ony spurred you on and the groan that vibrated onto her dick was enough to be mirrored by her as her seed filled your mouth, spurts of cum painting the back of your throat with familiarity. You swallowed every drop as she continued to fuck your mouth for as long as she wanted to, milking herself of every mouthful she could give you, letting herself rid her body of the ravenous arousal that had been plaguing her. 

She eyed the way she dripped from your shining lips onto your chin and pulled you in for a kiss once she’d wiped it clean with the pad of her thumb.

“I’ll deal with you later,” she growled into your ear after she’d trailed kisses across your jaw and you waited in anticipation once she’d dismissed you back to your desk. 

[stayevildarling]

Hii ! I hope you’re having a good day/night !

I would like to request something with Emily Prentiss, in which R has her period and is struggling with cramps ? Maybe something like Emily coming home excited, because she and R decided to prepare together to go on a date. Only for emily to find R in bed and comfort her because R feels sad she can’t go to the date. Something full of fluff please 🥹🙏

Don’t feel obligated to do it ! That’s ok if you don’t want to write it 💗 (sorry if there are any mistakes english isn’t my native tongue)

Emily Prentiss x Reader- Red days, soft nights

A/N: Hi lovely🤍 thank you so much for requesting this! Pls don‘t worry about that at all, your english sounds perfect! and I hope you enjoy this

tags/tw: established relationship, mention of periods, mention of blood, mention of pain medication, fluff/comfort

word count: 2k

taglist:

@lunaticwhittaker , @billiebeanhoward , @lanawinters-ily , @kenzbro , @minaslittleone , @httpfiftyshadesofgay @whitelotus00 , @ninaahs , @paulsonsratched , @vintagepaulson , @isle-of-earle , @grilledcheeseandguavajelly , @lucyintheskywithxanax , @fanfics4world , @mymiraclewitch , @hazard-to-myself , @awritersometimes , @wastdstime , @p1pecleanerwitheyes , @queen2234 , @ihartnat , @lifebyinez , @ahsatanizgay , @blu3dimples

As soon as you hear the sound of the front door opening and closing, watching as Sergio excitedly hops off the bed beside you and leave, tears begin swelling in your eyes. You had been so excited, Emily finally getting a weekend off to spend it with you and the two of you deciding to get ready together once she gets home and go on a date night. It was Emily‘s idea and you had been excited all week, giggling and jumping up and down happily whenever she mentioned it. You decided to go full out for this one, purchasing a new outfit and some special underwear just for Emily as well as a new perfume.

But the day began horribly, as soon as you woke up, you could feel it already, storming to the bathroom only to realize you had started your period. Sighing, you stepped into the shower in order to clean yourself up, changing into some comfortable clothes and taking care of the bedding as Emily had left for work hours before. You initially thought you could still go, a little disappointed about the underwear part of your plan for this date but wanting to also just spend time with Emily. But throughout the day, the cramps slowly sneaked into your bones, causing your back and stomach to severely hurt, shooting pains into your legs and back.

You had tried painkillers, some tea and a hot water bottle but nothing seems to work and so all you have managed to do for the past few hours is lay in bed, tears occasionally filling your vision at the thought of date night and how you were going to ruin it. A small part of you even hoped that Emily may be caught longer at work, like the many times it had happened before but unfortunately she was home, even much earlier than usual. She wastes no time, greeting Sergio before setting her bag down and trying to find you. Her eyebrows furrow when she doesn‘t find you in the living room or kitchen, even checking the bathroom. Sergio leads the way to the bedroom and she frowns when finding you in bed, at first assuming you are simply having a nap before she hears soft crying coming from afar.

„Darling?“ she tries softly as she moves to where you are laying, moving the blanket in order to get a better look at you, only to find your crying state, the tears flowing and your chin wobbling. „Hey, what happened?“ she coos, unable to understand what upset you so much as you had been so excited the last few days. You simply burry yourself further into the pillows and blankets, feeling ashamed and embarrassed despite sharing everything with your girlfriend, Emily always making you feel safe and cared for and never judging you for anything, ever.

„Nuh uh“ she tuts, moving the blanket away from your face yet again. „None of that sweetheart, what‘s going on?“ she asks, her features tense as she hates seeing you in any type of discomfort, especially hating when you are crying as she wanted to do nothing more than punish the universe for whatever it did to upset you. „I‘m so sorry Em“ you begin, the tears flowing freely down your cheeks. „I started my period“ you confess, holding onto your stomach as more cramps take over your body. „I was so excited and I‘m so sorry for ruining everything“ you begin crying harder.

Your girlfriend frowns, both for seeing you feeling so terrible but at the same time that you are feeling bad and guilty about it. „Let me in“ she orders and you obey, making some room before she scoops you into her arms, leaning against the bed as she holds you against her chest. „Darling, you haven‘t ruined anything“ she assures but you pout then. „But I was so excited“ you protest and she kisses your forehead before whispering „Me too darling but we‘ll simply postpone this, that‘s all“ she promises and you nod weakly before she wipes your tears. She holds you for a while, her hands gently tracing patterns on your stomach, hoping she could give you at least some comfort, knowing how much you struggled with your periods and how painful they are at times, completely knocking you out.

„Now sweetie, I‘m gonna run you a bath, okay?“ she offers and you nod again before she kisses your cheek, making sure she has wiped all of your tears before getting up. She disappears for a few minutes, running you a warm bath, getting you some towels and something comfortable to wear. When she returns, she takes your hand and leads you into the bathroom. You gasp a little as you see the bubble bath, the candles she had lit and how special it looks with the dim lights. „Thank you“ you pout, still feeling bad for how this night was supposed to go. „You‘re welcome darling, now take all the time you need and I‘ll be right here when you finish“ she promises before kissing your forehead.

As you slowly undress and settle in the warm bath, your muscles and painful bones finally soothe a little, Emily wastes no time to prepare what she had thought of upon coming home and seeing your disappointment. About ten minutes after you settle in the bath, she knocks gently and you allow her to come in as she sets some tea down for you, asking if there is anything you need but you politely decline. She leaves you again, carrying on with her preparations before waiting for you. It doesn‘t take too long before you walk out the bath, in some of the comfortable pyjamas she had picked out for you.

Stepping into the dining room, your eyes well up with tears a little as you find Emily sitting by the dining table, your favorite takeaway waiting for you, as well as countless candles and some wine, making the atmosphere nothing but beautiful and intimate. „Emily“ you pout, feeling bad she went through all that trouble after working all day. The tears remain lingering in your eyes, feeling so drawn to your girlfriend of many years in this moment. „Come here angel“ she coos and you comply, wasting no time before practically jumping on her lap, wrapping your arms around her before nestling yourself in her neck. „Thank you“ you whisper, the tears slowly streaming down your cheeks. ,,Anything for you darling'' she smiles before holding you for a moment longer, before you go back to your own seat opposite her.

The two of you fall into easy conversation as you ask about her day, checking in on the case she had told you about, not detailed of course for your own protection and the usual office gossip. And for a while, it feels normal, the soft glow of the candles, the wine and food making you feel like you are on the date just like you initially planned and a part of you prefered the intimacy of this, not having any other people around, giving you freedom to hold hands, to lock eyes and smile at each other lovingly, as well as you occasionally stealing onto your girlfriends lap as she feeds you your favourite desert, telling you just how much she loves you while plastering your face in kisses.

,,What do you feel like darling?'' Emily asks softly as you sit by kitchen island, watching as she finishes the dishes, her insisting on you resting while she takes care of it. ,,Movie, cuddles?'' she suggests and you smile before your puppy eyes meet hers and whispering ,,Both?'' with a sheepish smile. She nods lovingly, before taking you over to the TV, giving you the remote and telling you to choose one of your comfort movies while she gets changed. She returns moments later, with enough tea, candy and ice cream to last for an eternity, as well as another heating pad. You frown again, her kindness taking your breath away and at the same time making you feel guilty.

,,I feel bad Em'' you frown, as she sits down beside you, pulling your head into her lap so she can give you some head scratches. ,,Why?'' she asks as she locks eyes with you. ,,Because I wanted to do something special for you, I even bought a dress and some new lingerie and this ended being you doing everything for me'' you sigh, missing the little smirk on her lips upon hearing your statement. ,,Angel listen to me, you aren't feeling well and I much prefered this quiet date night with you but I promise I will take next weekend off too and you can show me that little dress and the other things you bought'' she smirks, causing your cheeks to blush a little before you nod.

She pulls you a little closer, her warmth soothing and making your heart feel warm and content, so happy that Emily was yours and you could call yourself hers. Since your bath, the pains had mostly stopped, still uncomfortable and lingering in the background but with Emily by your side you can get even through the worst of it. Sergio makes an appearance moments later, snuggling up to the empty spot beside Emily, causing you both to chuckle as she gives him some scratches too. ,,Now, what did you choose darling?'' she asks and you side eye her before beginning to play your favourite movie.

It takes her moments to put the pieces together before she protests ,,Mamma Mia? oh come on not again'' she sighs and you can't help but chuckle. ,,Come on pwease, I love listening to you sing'' you puppy eye her and she nods, her features utterly serious despite you knowing this amused her. She showed the same reaction every time upon you playing the movie but by song two Emily was all in, singing her lungs out. By song five she would usually dance in front of the TV, taking your hands and dancing beside you. The two of you lay in each other's embrace, Emily occasionally feeding you some candy, her hand lingering on your stomach and rubbing little circles on it, making you feel warm, comfortable and safe.

,,Emily?'' you ask and her attention shifts from the movie to you as her eyes lock with your own yet again. ,,I love you'' you admit and you watch as her whole features light up and she gives you a warm loving smile. ,,I love you too sweetheart'' she confesses, catching your lips in a kiss before she instinctively pulls you a little closer. And you knew despite the red days, the ruined date that you had looked forward to, Emily was always there, turning even the most painful days into the most softest nights, as in a little while her singing would fill the apartment, making you chuckle, feeding each other ice cream while locking eyes and holding each through the night. And Emily would never have it any other way.

[daydreamingqueen1]

Puppy eyes

Pairing: Spencer Reid x BAU! Reader (can be seen as platonic too)

Warnings: none. fluff, spencer being a bit of a germaphobe, no y/n, pretty sure is gn reader too

Summary: Spencer Reid vs puppy, need I say more

Word count: 1.3k

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It's the best day ever.

Your day had started pretty normal to be honest, you would even say it was kind of shitty since you had missed the subway you usually took for your daily commute to the BAU.

But, as wiser people say: Everything happens for a reason.

Because as you are making your way to work, your ears catch the soft sound of a creature whimpering. Trying to find the source, you give a couple tentative steps with your head turning from left to right like you are a hunting hound.

Ironically, behind the decorative bushes that surround the FBI building entrance, you find the origin of the sound.

It's not a hound but it's close enough. It's a puppy.

A beautiful, chocolate spotted puppy.

"Oh my god, sweetie, come here!" you gush automatically, your hand extending gently to reach for the animal currently crying between the bushes and the wall.

The adorable puppy looks up at you a bit hesitant at first, big brown eyes meeting yours. It gives a sniff to the air, checking the scent of your palm from afar, you almost squeal from how cute it looks.

Then it wags its tail.

You make kissy noises to coax him closer, your voice getting two tones higher, "Come here puppy!"

It works because soon enough it walks out of its hiding spot and nuzzles into your palm eagerly, tail wagging from side to side.

You practically lunge to grab the poor thing, "Look at you! You are so cute!"

The puppy doesn't seem to mind your cuteness aggression though, its fluffy body melting on your arms when you scratch behind its long ears, "You're coming home with me."

Best day ever.

But you can't just ignore your responsibilities and walk back home to stay with it, and it wouldn't be sensible to leave such a young puppy alone in your apartment either.

So you do the next most reasonable thing.

Your smile almost takes up your whole face when you walk out of the elevator with the puppy in your arms.

Penelope spots you first, immediately dropping the files on her hands on a random desk to come rushing to you, "Oh my god! Oh my god! It's that a puppy my eyes are seeing?!"

You giggle, pretty much vibrating with joy at this point, "Yes, isn't it the cutest thing ever?"

"Aww, my heart can't deal with this!" she cries, hands fanning herself dramatically.

"Where did you get it?" Prentiss chirps in, hers and almost every other head in the bullpen looking up from their desk to look at you. Well, at the puppy.

You keep walking into the office with Garcia looming all over you, "It was crying outside. This little thing was all alone in the bushes."

A hoard of agents are suddenly surrounding you, eager to get a closer look.

"You'll have to look if it belongs to someone," Morgan says, which makes you instantly pout.

"It doesn't have a collar, idiot," Emily argues quickly, "Such a profiler you are."

"I wanna keep it," you smile brightly, "I think it's a boy."

You turn the puppy onto it's back.

"Yep, definitely a boy," Morgan chuckles, he attempts to pet its head but the creature recoils in your arms, clearly overwhelmed at the amount of people.

Noticing the puppy is a bit scared, you pull back from the crowd, only then you notice a certain agent who remains seated on his desk.

“Don't you want to see it, Spencer?” you ask eagerly.

He shakes his head, his body leaning away slightly, “I can see it from right here, don't worry.”

“Oh, come on Reid, don't tell me you are afraid of dogs,” Derek never loses a chance to tease him.

Spencer gives him a flat look, “I'm not scared of dogs, I’m just aware of the amount of diseases they can transmit to humans.”

You tsk your tongue. “But he's so cute, and it doesn't look like it has rabies or anything,” you look down at the dog while approaching his desk, talking directly at it with a baby voice, “Tell me, do you have rabies, little puppy?”

It just stares blankly at you. Proof enough. “See?”

Spencer, ever the statistics expert, begins his rant, “Well, actually, rabies is not the most common disease dogs can carry, nor the only one. Illnesses that pass between animals and humans are known as zoonotic diseases and a 2007 study based in Finland shows that noroviruses are one of the leading causes of diarrheal diseases among people of all age groups and that these can survive in dogs and be passed along to– Please don't get that thing any closer.”

You chuckle at the panic look Spencer gives you when you reach his side. Truthfully, you aren't going to make him touch the puppy if he's uncomfortable with it, but a little bit of teasing is at the order of the day, “Oh, really? Come on, holding it for a second won't kill you.”

You pull the puppy up next to your face and give him your best puppy eyes, mimicking talking as the puppy, “Please? Am I not cute enough to pet?”

Spencer gives you a long look, “Yes, very cute.”

Forcing down your blush, you extend the puppy to him, “Then pet it.”

He presses his lips in a line, his hands coming up defensively as he rolls backwards on his office chair, “I think I'll pass.”

You chuckle and are about to back off when the puppy squirms in your arms, leaping out from your hands.

The scene unfolds in front of your eyes almost in slow motion. You watch how the pup flies in the air, its short body extended as a superhero.

Spencer catches it, thank god.

“Oh, no,” he squeaks when he realizes what he's done, holding the puppy as if it were about to explode, panickedly starting to name every possible disease, “Pasteurella, Salmonella, Brucella, Yersinia enterocolitica, Leptospira–”

His alarmed ramble gets interrupted by the enthusiastic puppy licking up his cheek.

You freeze for a moment, expecting him to die from a heart attack.

Spencer giggles.

“It's giving me kisses,” his face scrunches up adorably at the onslaught of affection, “It tickles, buddy.”

You can't help the relieved laugh that escapes your lips, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, I'm going to have to wash my face with antibacterial soap though,” he chuckles as he puts the puppy down on his lap, away from further kisses.

Oh, and you've just fucked up so bad because your heart gets squeezed inside your chest at the endering sight of Spencer and the puppy staring at each other.

“You are right, he's cute,” Spencer turns to smile at you, the animal's tail wagging incessantly.

You fucked up good.

“Aww, look at you two,” Penelope says excitedly, “It even looks like you, Reid!”

Your gaze shifts back and forth from your coworker to the creature on his lap. Penelope has a point, you can kind of see the resemblance. The puppy has long ears with soft, brown curls covering them that look similar to Spencer's long hair. The cute, hazel puppy dog eyes go without saying.

Morgan snorts, “Babygirl, you are right, it kind of looks like the kid.”

You pick up the puppy and smile, “Seems like I got myself my own mini Doctor Reid,”

Spencer is about to say something back when Hotch’s office opens, both him and Rossi entering the bullpen.

“Agent, please tell me that's not a dog you have there.” Hotch gives you a stern look.

“It is not, sir,” you answer, smiling apologetically and holding the puppy closer against your chest.

He sighs, shaking his head. “Everyone to the meeting room, we've got a case.”

The puppy lets out a tiny bark, and you make your way to the meeting room before Hotch can tell you anything else.

Spencer sits next to you on the round table and whispers against your ear as everyone is filling in, “I'll help you take care of little Doc here if you decide to keep him.”

Not even the gruesome details of the case are enough to sour your mood.

Best day ever.

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yep, this was inspired by all of the MGG pictures with puppies. I am weak.

leave me a prompt if you want!

reblogs and comments are appreciated <3

hope ya liked it, byebye

My masterlist

[emilyprentissluvr]

TV (Emily Prentiss x Reader)

"What about the plans we made?"

Summary: In which you're grieving your dead wife. But is she actually dead?

Warning: Angst and mentions of death.

YOU WALKED along the cobblestone path, stepping over the cracks you had come to memorize. The sun was shining while the birds were chirping and you wanted nothing more than to shoot those damn birds and rip the sun from the sky. 

It wasn't fair that beauty could exist when the love of your life didn't.

"Hi Em." You smiled sadly as you sat down across from your wife's grave. 

It had been eight months since you'd gotten the call that your wife was dead.

 243 days of existing without your other half. 

34,9920 minutes of wondering why you had to fall in love with the most selfless, heroic, and caring person to walk this earth.

20,995,200 seconds of missing the only person who made everywhere feel like home. 

"I brought you flowers," You said as you put the fresh pair of roses against her gravestone. "The worker at the flower shop said that I must have the happiest partner alive since I buy bouquets so much. How ironic is that?" You chuckled sadly. Not because you found it funny, but because you knew Emily would have. 

'That wouldn't happen if you would stop buying me flowers' Is what Emily would have said. 

"I never understood why you didn't like flowers," You said as you picked at the grass beneath you. "And you don't get a choice now. You broke our promise." You frowned as you threw the small pieces of grass at her grave.

"You need to let that go, my love' Emily would say. 

"I was supposed to go first! That was the deal! But you broke our promise so I can do whatever I want. So if I want to fill your whole damn grave up with flowers then I will." You said indignantly. You knew you probably looked crazy to onlookers. Having a one-sided argument with a grave probably wasn't the best way of coping. Making up your dead wife's side of the conversation probably wasn't the healthiest either, but you didn't care. You didn't care about a lot of things these days. 

'You are so stubborn sometimes' Emily would have said with a teasing smile. 

"We're both stubborn," You said with a small eye roll. "I mean, we wouldn't be in this position if you weren't." Tears start to form at the corner of your eyes. You didn't think it was humanly possible to cry as much as you had over the last eight months. But here you were, the never-ending tears making their way down your cheeks. 

'I'm so sorry sweetheart. I never meant to hurt you' Emily would have said as she consoled you. She would have scooped you up into her arms and tucked your head into the crevice of her neck where it would fit perfectly.

"It's not your fault. None of this is." You sniffled as you reached out and placed your palm against the cold stone of her grave. "It's just not fair! We were supposed to have a lifetime together. We had so many plans."

'I know my love. But just because I'm not here doesn't mean you can't live your life to the fullest' Emily would have smiled, ever the optimist. That had been a surprise when you first met over five years ago. While she may have been a badass, stone-cold agent on the outside, she was nothing but sunshine and warmth on the inside. Of course, you were the only one who got to see her soft interior but you didn't mind, you loved having a part of Emily just to yourself. But now you didn't have any part of Emily. 

"I don't know how to move on without you, Em. How am I supposed to enjoy life when you're not next to me enjoying it too? How can I love anything when half of my heart is buried with you?" You cried, tears still flowing down your cheeks as you leaned your forehead against her grave. You cried until the birds stopped chirping and the sun went down. You mourned the woman Emily never got to grow into. You grieved the life you and Emily never got to live. 

You didn't know how long you'd been there, but after your tears subsided you decided to head home for the night. 

"Bye, Em. I love you." You murmured as you traced her name in the stone before standing up and walking along the cobblestone path once again. 

The drive home was quiet. The radio was playing Emily's favorite station but you weren't paying attention. Maybe that was why you didn't notice the car in your driveway until you parked. You furrowed your brows as you recognized the black SUV, those were the ones Emily drove whenever she was on the job. 

It wasn't unusual for a black SUV to be in your driveway. Emily's team would come to visit you at least once a week. You didn't know if it was because they felt guilty for her death or if they wanted to be close to the closest thing to Emily. You didn't mind it though, it was nice to have company to break up the silence of your house.

However, you knew the team was on a case. Penelope had called and told you that. So you cautiously walked up to your front porch. You shakily grabbed the keys from your purse and unlocked the door. "Hello?" You called as you walked to the living room where you saw a light on.

As soon as you walked in you froze. The purse in your hand drops to the floor. It was a ghost. The ghost of your Emily standing right in front of you. You closed your eyes wondering how your tired brain could conjure up such a perfect image of her. But when you opened them again she was still standing there. 

"Y/n?" Emily's voice cracked as she laid eyes on you for the first time in eight months.

Your brain felt foggy and you couldn't find the flashlight to see through it. Were you hallucinating now? 

Emily could see the shock on your face and the way her presence hadn't registered in your mind. "It's me," The brunette said, wanting nothing more than to wrap her arms around you and never let you go, but she knew she had to be careful. "It's Emily," She said as she walked toward your frozen frame slowly.

She was close enough now that you could feel her breath but you didn't dare to look anywhere but into her eyes. The same eyes that had watched you laugh, cry, and love. The same eyes you had spent years memorizing...

Oh my god. Was this real? Was this your Emily and not a figment of your grieving imagination?

Almost as if reading your mind she smiled, "I'm real, my love", she raised her hand slowly and tucked a piece of hair behind your ear. You let out a shallow breath as you felt her touch and suddenly the fog from your brain had been cleared. This was real. The woman in front of you was your life, your love, your Emily.

You launched yourself at her knowing she would catch you. You were immediately wrapped into her embrace, feeling at home for the first time since you had gotten that soul-crushing phone call. 

Nothing else mattered to you at this moment. All your questions and confusion could be answered later. Right now you were in your wife's arms and you never planned on leaving

 "Emily." You smiled tearily as you tucked your face under her chin, the smell of perfume filling your senses. "Hi, sweetheart." Emily smiled as tears fell down her face, "I told you I would never break a promise." 

[illdowhatiwantthanks]

The Corn Cob (The Surprise, Part 14)

Emily Prentiss x fem!reader Warnings: explicit language, discussion of AFAB body parts, pregnancy times, blood, medical/miscarriage scare, invasive medical exams (hello, again, Pap smear), vague references to past abuse, happy ending Word count: 2.4k

Summary: When you find blood in your underwear, you panic. Emily races to you, both working against time to make sure the baby is okay.

Week 24: The Corn Cob

You’d thought it was going to be a normal day, a good day even. It was Friday. Emily wasn’t in the field. She’d even promised to be home on time. You’d just returned from the grocery store with ingredients to cook dinner, when you had to run to the bathroom. You were always running to the bathroom these days. Little corn cob didn’t leave a whole lot of room for your bladder.

But when you pulled down your pants, a flash of red made your stomach drop. You sat down heavily on the toilet, head reeling. You felt like you might be sick. You’d had cramps today, but that wasn’t unusual. It wasn’t supposed to be unusual. But the blood? This was way too much blood to be spotting. You looked down at your stomach, placing your hands on either side, and hoping, praying, with everything you had in you, that the little one was okay. But you hadn’t felt her kick all day. Something was wrong. Something was very wrong.

Your breath was caught in your throat, and you couldn’t seem to pull it in. You pressed your hands to your face and noticed that you were crying, that your hands were shaking. You didn’t think you’d ever been so scared, so helpless.

You pulled out your phone, letting out a sob as your home screen came to life–one of the sonogram photos of the baby’s blurry little face. It was dialing, and suddenly you were even more scared to tell Emily. What if you had lost the baby? You didn’t think you’d ever forgive yourself if you lost her. How would Emily?

“Hi, honey!” Her voice was so bright, so happy. You felt paralyzed with fear.

You sucked in a shaky breath, and Emily’s tone changed immediately.

“Y/N? What’s wrong?”

“Emily, I’m bleeding!” you gasped, tears streaming down your face as you wrapped your arms around your baby bump.

“What!?”

You could hear her voice shift, could hear movement, and you knew she was coming. You felt the wave of panic subside just a little. Not much, but a little. Emily was coming. She was on her way. You needed her, and she was coming.

“What do you mean bleeding?!” she asked, frantic. “Bleeding where!?”

“Out my vagina!” you cried, sucking in big gulps of air that didn’t seem to ever get to your lungs. You felt lightheaded.

“Okay,” she said, and you could tell she was trying her best to stay calm, even as her voice shook, even as you knew she had to be panicking herself. “Okay. Honey? I need you to hang up and call Dr. Delgado.”

“I’m scared, Em…” Your voice was high and desperate, and tears dripped from your face.

Her voice changed again, and you heard the ambient noise of traffic. She would be here soon. She was coming. “It’s gonna be okay, baby. Alright? I’m on my way. I’ll be there as soon as I can. But I need you to call Dr. Delgado. Can you do that for me?”

“Yes.” You nodded, even though she couldn’t see you.

“Okay. That’s good, honey. You’re doing great. Now you hang up and you call her. And then you can call me back right after, okay?”

“Okay.”

“I love you,” Emily added. And it was only then that you could really hear the fear in her voice, the absolute terror.

“I love you, too,” you told her, trying to stop a fresh wave of tears.

All the panic Emily’s voice had kept at bay came flooding back in after she hung up, and your fingers were shaky as you scrolled through your contacts to find Dr. Delgado.

The conversation was quick, no-nonsense. Just questions and answers. But as soon as Dr. Delgado determined that the bleeding wasn’t light, she got serious.

“Y/N, you need to go to the emergency room as soon as possible,” she told you.

“Is this…” You gulped. “Am I miscarrying?” You were afraid to ask, afraid to hear the answer.

“It’s rare in the second trimester, but I can’t say for sure. It’s imperative for you to get to the hospital as soon as you can.”

“Okay. I will.” You were suddenly even more scared than you’d been before.

“Give me a call once you’ve been seen,” she told you.

“Thanks, Dr. Delgado.”

Trying to pull yourself together, you got up, running to your closet for a new pair of underwear, adhering so many pads to it that you might as well have been wearing a diaper. You rang Emily on speakerphone, and she picked up immediately.

“What’d she say?!”

“I need to go to the hospital,” you told her, stumbling as you pulled on a pair of maternity leggings.

Emily exhaled shakily. “Alright,” she said. “I’ll be there in ten minutes. Meet me in the parking lot. Are you okay? Can you make it down there?”

“Mmhm.” You sniffed. “How’d you get here so fast?!”

“I took a Bureau SUV. Morgan’s driving. We’ve got the lights and sirens going.”

“Please hurry,” you said, quiet and scared, locking the door behind you and sprinting to the elevator.

“I’m coming, baby. Just a little bit longer. It’s gonna be okay.”

Emily quite literally leapt out of the passenger side of the SUV as it screeched into the parking lot. Her eyes were wide and alarmed as she ran to you, nearly tackling you in a hug. You were so relieved to see her you thought your knees might buckle under you. Seeing her triggered a fresh wave of tears, and she cupped your face, wiping them away.

“It’s alright, honey. I’m here.” She led you to the back of the SUV, never letting go of your arm, never removing her hand from your back where she held you steady. Then, slamming the door, she sprinted to the other side, jumping in the backseat with you.

“Drive,” she told Morgan.

“Jesus Christ, Derek!” you exclaimed, as you peeled out of the parking lot and onto the road, swerving and moving at speeds that would be illegal in any other situation.

“Sorry, mama,” he called back. “Gotta get you to the hospital.”

“Just close your eyes, honey,” Emily said, kissing the side of your head, and pulling you protectively into her.

Emily scanned you up and down, one of her hands resting on your baby bump. You were trying very hard to keep from crying.

“Are you in pain?” she asked quietly.

You shook your head, blinking back tears. “Cramps, but I didn’t think anything of it. I should’ve known something was wrong. I just– I thought she was sleepy today. I haven’t felt her move. God, I’m so stupid! What if she’s–” You sucked in a shaky breath.

“Hey, hey, hey,” Emily said, placing her hands on either side of your face. “You’re spiraling. We don’t know that anything’s wrong. Let’s not worry until we have to.”

But she was worried, too. You could tell. Your eyes were swimming. “I’m so scared, Em,” you squeaked.

“Me too,” she sighed, pressing her forehead to yours.

At the ER, you thought Emily might actually assault a health professional to get you seen faster. Your anxiety came out in tears. Emily’s anxiety came out in her being absolutely, terrifyingly authoritative. You kept tugging on her sleeve, hissing, “Em, don’t be mean! They’re just doing their jobs!”

But you had to hand it to her. She got shit done. You were in an OBGYN exam room with a doctor–”A doctor, not a nurse!” Emily insisted–within fifteen minutes of your arrival. Which, in your experience, was nearly unheard of.

The doctor sat and rolled over to the exam table. You sat, holding Emily’s hand tightly, already in the hospital gown one of the nurses had given. “Thank you so much,” you’d said, trying to make up for Emily’s brashness. He held a clipboard, reading the scribbled intake notes the nurse had taken.

“Alright, Ms… Y/L/N?”

You nodded.

“I’m Dr. Booker. I see you’ve had some vaginal bleeding today. Would you classify it as a lot or a little?”

“A lot,” you replied, voice shaky.

“Okay,” he nodded. “Any pain, nausea, fever?”

“Umm, just some cramps. Nothing really bad.”

He scribbled a bit more.

“Okay.” He set the clipboard down and slapped his hands on his thighs, rolling even closer to you. “Mind if I take a look?”

You gulped and nodded, tears threatening at your eyes again, as you watched him roll to the nearby cabinets and pull out a speculum. Emily squeezed your hand, watching you sympathetically. She knew that you did, in fact, mind if he took a look. This was your worst nightmare as far as doctor visits went. Not only did someone have to touch you, look at you, shove something inside of you, but it was a man. And you hadn’t had any time at all to emotionally prepare.

You trembled. Emily pressed her lips to your ear as the doctor pulled on gloves. “Do you want me to ask for a woman?” She was so quiet you could barely hear her.

You shook your head, staring hard at the ceiling. “I just want to know what’s wrong,” you whispered. “As fast as possible.”

She kissed your forehead, smoothing your hair as you lay back. You breathed deeply, trying to prepare yourself for the cold metal, the pressure, the feeling of being violated that somehow never went away, no matter how many times you had to do this stupid examination. But this time, it was for your baby. And you would do anything, anything at all, to protect your child.

So you braced yourself against the speculum, sucking in a shaky breath as the doctor forced it inside of you, seemingly oblivious to the ordeal he was facilitating. Emily held your hand tight in one of hers, the other gently rubbing the side of your face, catching any tears that fell.

She hated this. She hated this for you. But she loved you so deeply, so desperately for being so brave. She’d always known that you were the one for her, had known from the very beginning, but she knew even more now, in this moment, that she couldn’t have found a better person to have a child with. You were mothering, she realized. Right now, on this exam table, choking back tears, trying hard not to write away from the doctor’s hands inside of you. You were being the baby’s mom. And she loved you so much for it.

“Ah!” the doctor exclaimed, rolling away for a moment and leaving the speculum inside you. You felt your heart drop. You couldn’t breathe as you waited for him to roll back, to finish his thought. Emily’s leg bounced so fast and so hard that the sound seemed to take over the whole room.

The doctor rolled back with a petri dish, and you flinched as he reached back inside you. You felt a pinch and gasped, then grimaced as the doctor placed a small stalk of tissue into the petri dish and shut the lid.

“Cervical polyp,” he said. “Nothing to worry about. The little buggers just bleed a lot.”

“Oh, thank god.” Emily let out a shaky sigh, bending forward and pressing her hand over her mouth.

“So the baby’s okay?” you asked, terrified to hear the answer.

“Healthy as a horse,” he nodded. “I can do an ultrasound if it’ll make you feel better.”

You both nodded vigorously.

“What about Y/N?” Emily pressed. “Is she okay? What is a… cervical polyp?”

He waved her off. “She’s completely fine. Cervical polyps are just irregular growths. Very common. Almost always benign.”

“Almost!?” Emily exclaimed, sitting up rail straight, eyebrows furrowed.

“We’ll send it off for testing just to be sure, but 99% of them are benign.”

Your body shook with relief, but you couldn’t quite let the anxiety go. Not until you’d seen the baby.

Emily bit her nails as the doctor squirted the gel on your belly, rubbing the wand over your baby bump.

You let out a relieved sob as the baby’s head came into view, and Emily planted kiss after kiss on your cheek. The sound of the heartbeat filled the room, and you and Emily pressed your heads together, both weepy, both more relieved than perhaps you’d ever been.

“All’s well, ladies,” he said, removing his gloves and handing you a paper towel to wipe off the gel. “It’s been a pleasure. A nurse will bring your discharge papers by. You might experience some cramping, and the bleeding won’t stop right away. But it should slow and stop within the next 24 hours.”

“Thank you so much,” Emily said, rising to shake his hand. She was all charm now that you and the baby were okay.

But, even still, she did not let her hands leave you even once as you walked into the waiting room, Derek wrapping his wide arms around both of you.

“I’m not gonna lie, mama, you had me worried,” he said, squeezing your hand. He left to get the car, and you and Emily made your way outside to wait for him.

“Jesus Christ,” Emily mumbled shakily, her arm around your waist to steady you. “I don’t think I’ve ever been so scared in my life.”

You frowned at her. “You’ve literally been held hostage. You had to fake your own death.”

“Uh-huh,” she said, pulling you into her chest and resting her chin on your head. “And the thought of losing you or the little guy is way worse than either of those things.”

Emily held your face between her hands and pressed a kiss to your forehead before melding her lips with yours. You sighed into her, the anxiety and panic of the day rolling off of you.

You jumped at the sound of a car horn. Derek smirked, rolling down the window. “I swear, you two can’t go two minutes without being all over each other.”

You blushed, and Emily flipped him off, but you were both loose and happy with relief. You let Emily wrap you in her arms in the backseat, knowing that she’d need that for a while–to hold you close, protectively, to reassure herself that you were safe.

You knew you’d get home and lay down and she’d get you your heating pad, and then she’d pull your head into her chest, lace her legs with yours. And you’d feel like nothing bad in the world could touch you, not in Emily’s arms.

[oneshotnewbie]

Hello! I hope you're well :)

Would you so kindly be able to do an Emily Prentiss x victim child!reader where reader is kind of young, maybe like between 6-10 and they've been held captive by the UnSub for weeks now and when the team finally finds the location, reader has gone mute and very cautious/scared of everyone and only allows (to an extent) Emily near them? Since she's the one who first finds them? Emily is very patient and comforts reader even if they don't speak and such. But reader eventually becomes comfortable enough to speak again, using short sentences and few words with Emily (maybe even some other team members, too).

Emily could possibly take them in but that part can be up to you!

I can't wait to see more of your work btw, you're so good!! Thx! Xoxo 💘

⚠️Trigger Warning⚠️ This one-shot includes the topics of abuse, trauma, child neglecting, punishments and the plots are presented. If this triggers you too easily or you just can´t handle the subject, I urge you NOT to read this work. I am NOT embellishing this topic under any circumstance. Read at your own risk.

Authors note: I have tried my best to accommodate this request. I have to say that I changed the request a little because I didn't want to write a 6 year old child being kidnapped by a stranger, so I just had to do it with the father who has a criminal record. I also had to shorten it and basically skip a period of time in order to fulfill the second part of the request. I hope it is still okay. Also had to split it into two parts, Tumblr wouldn't let me post it all at once ♥

ᕚ---ᕘ

Walls. Excessive tightness.

You did not know how long you had been in that closet, and you did not want to know either. Far too exhausted from all the panic attacks and the walls threatening to crush you. Your stomach was growling like it had been ever since your father decided to punish you for everything you did.

Your hands were shaking, your eyes were glassy, but you were long past crying. That only made things worse. Your father knew no mercy, and certainly not for his scared and crying little daughter.

Sometimes you imagined what it would be like if you actually suffocated in that closet. Better to suffocate from the reducing air than to be suffocated by your own father. You would not grow old, you would not reach the age of 10. You were sure of that. You were convinced that something would happen to you before your next birthday. But so far you had gotten older every year and every birthday you were sure that it would be your last.

Your father would not let you sleep in your bed anymore, but at least today it was in the closet and not in the gazebo that you had to sleep in. It was late autumn and in the arbor, the roof of which had tiny holes, there was a risk of hypothermia and finally freezing to death. Your hand, which was squeezed between the closet door and your thigh, had now fallen asleep and despite your constant shaking, you felt immensely hot. You noticed your face starting to glow again- you had a fever from the cold that blew through the room at night. You carefully pulled your hand out from under your leg, hitting your head on one of the wooden insert panels of the shelves, causing a dull thud as it came loose and fell onto your body.

Your heart skipped a beat before stopping briefly, you squinted for a moment, hoping that the noise had gone unnoticed and that your father had disappeared from his guarding position in front of the closet and was downstairs in front of the TV. But then you heard footsteps, quiet and muffled through the ajar door and the wood that surrounded you. It sounded nothing like your father and his firm, jagged steps and you begged that you had not misheard and were now in for a lot of trouble.

The door creaked and your breathing became increasingly quicker. You did not mishear. You closed your eyes tightly, trying to calm yourself and prepare yourself for what was to come. If your father saw you so upset, he might keep you here longer or deny you food for the next few days.

The key turned in the lock that locked the two doors together and you heard them slowly open, but did not dare to look outside. The fear of provoking your father when you greedily gasped for fresh air and light was too great. You felt a slight breeze on your bare shoulders and cheeks. Still, you kept your eyes closed, hoping to avoid your fate.

Instead of your father's disapproving shouts and rough hands that would normally drag you out of the closet, there was only a careful, barely noticeable touch on your shoulder. When you raised your eyes, you saw a strange woman with black hair. "Hey, sweetie. I am from the police, you are safe now," the older woman's eyes were glassy. She seemed unsettled, as if she was afraid of breaking you with one wrong move, as if you were made of delicate mass. "You can come out now, your father can not hurt you anymore."

You nodded and a few moments later she had pulled you out of the closet, carefully and slowly so as not to hurt you, and immediately drawn you into her arms. You just let it happen, completely unable to understand that this was a foreign woman you were clinging to.

Your father had forbidden you from speaking to strangers and your fear of upsetting your dad was huge. But something about her voice made you give in. "I am Emily. What is your name?" she asked and rubbed your back soothingly, your courage to speak failing you. When the rest of her team stormed into the room a moment later and looked down at you in front of the open door, you panicked and shook yourself away from her before returning to the closet where you felt safe.

A hand signal directed to Derek and Hotch, they disappeared silently from the bare room with the remaining SWAT workers and left her alone with you. It took some time for you to gain confidence and crawl out of the wooden wardrobe again. The young woman had talked her head off with various topics in order to give you a feeling of reassurance.

You followed Emily's hand movements carefully, and at the sight of the little package of gummy bears, your mouth watered and your stomach began to make itself known. "Someone is really hungry!" She whispered and smiled softly before opening the small package and holding it out to you.

You carefully sat up, occasionally glancing at the door so that you could move back into the closet as quickly as possible in case of an emergency. But nothing happened. The black-haired woman pointed uncertainly but grinning at the package. "The green ones are my favorite. And what are yours?" you rummaged through the tiny package with your fingers until you held a red gummy bear between your fingers and showed it to her. "The red ones? Uhh, they are yummy!"

You jumped away while the first bite, she had raised her hand too quickly. She shook her head, swallowing hard. Emily had not thought for a split second. “Can I feel your forehead?”she asked after a short hesitation and you nodded, afraid of upsetting her like your father, granting her permission.

She gently placed her hand on your sweat-covered forehead. You were feverish. She slowly lowered her hand carefully again and watched you as you hesitantly gnawed on a gummy bear. Your father did not like it when you just wolfed down your food and often had taken it away when fell into a deep hunger.

Emily continued to watch you, her eyes sad and exhausted. You cocked your head, wondering if you had done something wrong. When your eyes met for a moment, you hesitantly reached for her free hand and placed her favorite gummy bear in her palm.

You found a kind of care and hope in her presence. Hope that you can still lead a normal life and never be locked in the closet by your father again. Emily caught the very first smile you gave her before you stood up and carefully fell into her arms. "Are you okay? Did you hurt yourself?" she giggled softly, her heart swelling and beginning to pound wildly.

"No,"

Surprisingly, she widened her eyes while keeping her mouth wide open. After hours spent in this cold room with only forensics downstairs doing their work, she had finally managed to hear your gentle and childlike voice.

[scarlettjemily]

Latch

I have a Jemily playlist on spotify and I shuffle it and write a fic inspired by the song

Song: Latch (acoustic version) - Sam Smith (suggested by @pascaleledumbo)

Pairing: Emily Prentiss/Jennifer "JJ" Jareau

Summary: Season 17 Emily and JJ finally getting married. This is their wedding day. This fic is just pure happiness, not a single thing goes wrong. It's just all love.

Word count: 2.2k

Posted on Ao3 as well

Chapter 2

*Not my pictures*

“You’d think with it being my second wedding, I wouldn’t be so nervous,” JJ laughed, smoothing out her dress with her hands. She looked at herself in the mirror, a rush of excitement hitting her.

"Yes, but your first wedding wasn’t with Emily,” Penelope pointed out, handing JJ her bouquet. “You look so beautiful,” she gushed, looking at her best friend. She had to stop herself from crying; she couldn’t believe Emily and JJ were finally getting married after all these years.

“Hey! Don’t you start! I don’t want to ruin my makeup before I get out there.” JJ turned away from Penelope, waving the girl away.

Penelope took the most dramatic deep breath, trying to compose herself, “I think I’m okay; let’s go. We can’t keep Em waiting,” she said, ushering the bride out of the room so they could get to the wedding.

“Nervous?” Tara asked, handing a glass of whiskey to Emily. She sat down on the arm of the couch, watching as Emily took a quick sip of her drink, then placing it down so she could fix the buttons of her suit.

Emily chuckled, her shoulders shrugging. “A little, but I’m more shocked. I never thought we’d be together, let alone get married.” She picked her drink back up and turned to face Tara. “How do I look?” She asked, giving her a spin.

“You’re an absolute smoke show, Emily; you look amazing.” They both laughed and clinked their glasses together, throwing back the rest of their drinks. “Okay, the car is here; we better head off.”

Penelope held JJ’s hand as they walked up to the entrance of the little garden; she could hear soft piano music playing, which was her cue that the ceremony was about to start. She saw Rossi standing at the entrance; he smiled and held his hand out for her.

JJ felt tears well up in her eyes. “Dave, really? Am I not too old to be walked down the aisle?” She joked, trying to stop herself from getting too emotional. She was already feeling overwhelmed, in the best way possible. She just wanted to see her soon-to-be wife.

He grabbed her hand and linked his arm with hers. “Oh hush, I already walked Emily down 5 minutes ago.”

JJ couldn’t help but smile at the thought of Rossi walking the woman down the aisle. Her usual stoic self, probably struggling to compose herself and to hide how much it meant to her. “How’d she seem?” JJ asked, watching as Penelope walked around the bend of the aisle.

“She was happy, Jennifer, so unbelievably happy." Dave looked at JJ with a warm smile. He lifted her chin with his finger so she was looking at him. “Are you ready?” His smile was so comforting for JJ; he really was like a father to her. To them both.

“I’m so ready,” she beamed, walking arm in arm down the aisle. When she walked around the bend, the first thing she saw were all their friends in their seats. Granted, there weren’t a lot of people, but the most important people were there. It made it more special that way.

As soon as JJ’s eyes locked onto Emily, she felt her throat tighten. She was beautiful. The most beautiful woman she’d ever laid eyes on. There was no stopping the tears that dropped from the corner of her eyes. That was her soulmate.

She was dressed in a completely ivory suit that cinched at her waist perfectly. The wide-legged pants covered a pair of pointy white heels. Her silver hair pinned up loosely, stray curls falling around her face perfectly. It took every ounce of control JJ had to not sprint down the aisle and jump on her fiancée.

Emily had to look away for a moment to collect herself; the pure shock of seeing JJ in a wedding dress stole all the air from her lungs. She looked back and let out a quiet laugh when she saw JJ crying. She knew all too well how emotional JJ could be—a change of pace from her usual lack of emotions. Well, lack of expression, Emily felt a lot; all the time, she just compartmentalised better than most.

JJ looked radiant, walking down the aisle in an ivory dress that matched Emily’s suit perfectly. More proof the women were made for each other; they complemented one another without needing to plan a single thing. Emily’s chest felt warm when she looked at JJ; her blonde hair was loosely curled and falling over her tanned shoulders. Emily could swear that JJ’s skin was glowing under the warmth of the sun; she’d never felt more in love with the woman than she did in that moment.

JJ took the last few steps down the aisle; she gave Rossi a kiss on the cheek, whispering her thanks. She handed her bouquet to Penelope before she turned to look at her fiancée. She laughed as she began to cry again. She couldn’t control the emotions that were spilling out of her; every time she looked at Emily, she just felt so overwhelmed with joy; all she could do was laugh and cry.

Emily reached her hand out, taking a hold of JJ's hand, the other resting on her hip. “My love, you look so beautiful,” she whispered, planting a kiss on her cheek. JJ’s hand rested on Emily’s cheek, shaking her head, her eyes taking in her facial features. Something she’d done a million times before "here,” Emily said, pulling a tissue out of her jacket pocket and handing it to JJ. The small crowd of people laughed at the sight, all of them knowing what JJ was like.

“Thank you,” JJ chuckled, using the tissue to dab her cheeks. “I just can’t believe we’re finally here,” she said, still not believing that they were about to get married. Emily agreed, giving JJ’s hand a firm squeeze, not planning to let go anytime soon.

“They will both now read their vows; who would like to go first?”

The two women had a silent conversation with their eyes, deciding that JJ would start. Penelope handed her a piece of paper that had her vows written on it; she unravelled them, her hands shaking slightly. The paper was covered in her neat and precise handwriting—not a single letter out of place. Emily smiled knowingly; her paper was the complete opposite: covered with scribbles, words crossed out. It represented them perfectly.

“Emily, my Emily." JJ started, glancing at her fiancee for a moment before deciding to keep her eyes on her paper; otherwise, she wouldn’t be able to get through the vows. “I can’t believe I’m standing in front of you right now, at our wedding, about to call you my wife. You started off as my co-worker, then you quickly became a friend. Then all of a sudden you were my boss,” the crowd laughed along with Emily and JJ. “Then you finally became my girlfriend, my fiancee, and now my wife." JJ let out a shaky breath, a small tear rolling down her cheek, but she was able to continue reading through it. “After everything we’ve been through together and separately, I’m so grateful to say that you have been the most consistent thing in my life. No matter what, you were there. Always.” She used her arm to wipe her tears because she refused to let go of Emily’s hand. “You were there for me when I didn’t even know that I needed you, but I think I’ve always needed you, and I’m certain I’ve always loved you. Even if it took me a while to come to terms with it,” a soft chuckle sounded from the crowd. “But now that I’ve got you, I promise you, there’s no way I’ll ever let you go.”

Emily quickly wiped a tear from her eye as JJ finished her vows. She squeezed her hand and gave her a warm smile. “That was beautiful, darling,” she complimented. She pulled her own piece of paper out of her pocket and shook her head. “Not as neat as yours,” she admitted sheepishly. JJ gave Emily an amused look, assuring her it was okay and waiting to hear her vows.

“Jennifer, Jen, JJ, my darling, my love... I can’t keep track of all the names I call you, and I’m sure there will be a million more that I’ll come up with, seeing as you’re stuck with me for the rest of our lives,” she laughed, looking up at JJ. All the people around them seemed to disappear when Emily watched JJ giggle; she stopped for a moment, getting distracted by how beautiful she was. "God, you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen,” she stated, practically dazed.

JJ couldn’t help herself; she planted a kiss on Emily’s cheek. “Thank you, baby,” she whispered. “Keep going,” she encouraged, giddy about what might be on the paper.

Emily let out a quick breath, concentrating on her paper again. “I truly believe I fell in love with you the first day I met you, but I thought you’d never feel the same way. So I decided that I’d have you in any capacity I could, and that was as my best friend. Now that you’re going to be my wife, I promise to always be your best friend first, to always be by your side, loving you and supporting you and annoying you just as much,” she gave JJ a quick wink before continuing. “I’m so grateful you chose me to be your wife. I wake up next to you every day, and I’m still pinching myself because I can’t believe that I get to call you mine." Emily folded the paper back up and returned it to her pocket. “I promise to love you until the day I die, and then in my next life, I promise to find you and love you again and again and again,” she croaked, her cry getting stuck in her throat.

JJ shook her head, crying at Emily’s words. She grabbed Emily’s face, not caring about the traditions of the wedding, and kissed her deeply. Emily’s hands landed on JJ’s hips as she kissed her back; there was no way she would pull away. She also didn’t care about traditions; her and JJ were by no means a traditional couple.

“Well then, you both may keep kissing the bride!”

The crowd erupted with loud cheers and continuous clapping. Both women laughed into their shared kiss, pulling each other closer, not wanting the moment to end.

“After you, my wife,” Emily held JJ's hand as she stepped into the car; she didn’t let go as she slid in the back seat next to her wife. “Thank you,” she aimed at the driver as he began to drive off.

JJ scooted closer to Emily, wrapping her arms around the woman as best she could. “I love you,” she hummed, smiling contentedly when Emily wrapped one arm around her shoulders, pulling her closer. Emily mumbled the sentiment back, placing a series of small kisses on JJ’s forehead. “Did you have a good day?” She asked, pulling back slightly so she could look at her wife’s face.

Emily placed her finger under JJ’s chin, running the pad of her thumb across her bottom lip. “It was better than good, baby; it’s been the best day of my life,” she whispered. Her heart swelled seeing JJ’s face beam; she captured JJ’s lips in a kiss, still holding her chin. “I can’t wait to get you to the hotel,” she mumbled against her lips, clumsily kissing her at the same time.

JJ swore her body shivered at the thought of getting back to their hotel. She gave her wife one last squeeze before pulling away. “We’ve got to stop; otherwise, I won’t be able to control myself in the back of this car,” she stated under her breath, only for Emily to hear.

Emily smirked, holding JJ close to herself, letting her chin rest atop her wife’s head. "Soon, my love, we’ll be there soon,” she reassured, letting her hand rest on JJ's thigh.

JJ squealed when Emily lifted her in her arms in the traditional bridal carry. “Emily! Don’t drop me!” She laughed, holding her tightly around her neck.

Emily stepped through the door of their room and swiftly kicked it shut behind her. “I would never, baby girl; I’ve got you.” She headed down the hall into the room, aiming straight for the bed. She threw JJ onto it, chuckling at JJ’s overly dramatic squeals. Emily kicked her heels off and walked to the edge of the bed, simultaneously unbuttoning her suit jacket.

JJ giggled, hopping up on her knees and crawling over to Emily. “Let me,” she purred, pulling Emily’s jacket down her arms and throwing it to the floor. She frantically kissed her while making quick work of her blouse; she moaned deeply when Emily’s hands made their way into her hair. Pulling it tightly into a makeshift ponytail, “I love you,” she groaned as Emily pulled her hair back, beginning to kiss down JJ's neck.

“I love you too, my darling,” Emily declared against JJ's skin, her hand snaking around her back to unzip her dress. “I can’t believe you’re my wife,” she divulged, watching as JJ's dress pooled around her knees, leaving her in just her underwear. “You’re all mine,” she professed, wrapping her arms around JJ's bare waist.

JJ wrapped her arms around Emily’s neck, pressing their foreheads together. “I’m yours, Emily, forever,” she beamed, both women still basking in the shock that they each finally got to marry their best friend.

[wildflowerluver]

can i req a emily prentiss daughter reader after emily “dies” and reader’s reaction to her death. angst, and then emily comes back and reader acts like morgan and is mad at emily, then fluff

motion sickness

emily prentiss x teen daughter!reader

the rise and fall of losing and regaining your mom

cw: character death, follows season 6/7 plot, reader has symptoms of depression, angst, yelling, grief, panic attacks, aaron cares so much for the reader

wc: 2.3k

༺♡༻

losing your mom doesn’t just hurt, it destroys you. 

emily wasn’t just your mom, she was your best friend. stemming from experience with her own mother, she made sure you two were close. 

the two of you traveled a lot when you were younger due to her job. but, joining the bau set permanent roots in washington d.c. you adored the city to grow up with and more importantly, you adored her team.

emily trained you like a profiler - on a much smaller scale, obviously, but you knew basic human behavior and safety. you were in highschool, she wanted you to not only be safe, but to be able to take care of yourself when she was away on cases.

you had woken up that monday to a note on the counter from your mom. you initially didn’t think much of it. she always left notes if she had an emergency case. 

you went through your normal maneuvers, getting ready for school and feeding sergio before leaving. 

it seemed like a normal day.

aaron had been the one to break the news.

you got a knock on the door of your home late that night. you were up late doing homework and if you were being honest, from anxiety too. your mom hadn’t texted or called. no contact worried you immensely.

turns out, your gut feeling had been right.

you don’t say anything, peering up at the agent with curious eyes as to what he’s doing here at this house. 

“i’m so sorry,” he starts.

three words.

i’m so sorry.

something had happened.

“we did everything we could,” the rest of his words seem to go fuzzy. if he keeps talking, you don’t hear anything.

your mom was dead. 

he didn’t even say it and you knew. her job had caught up to her.

he’s there when your knees buckle, arms wrapping around you to help you to the couch.

the tears come hot and fast, breathing becoming erratic as everything sets in. your mom was dead. she was gone and she wasn’t coming back. 

she hadn’t even been able to say goodbye.

aaron rubs your back as you sob. he doesn’t try and assure you that it’ll be okay because you know for a fact it won’t. all you wanted was her.

you don’t know how long you cry. the only thing you remember is aaron forcing you to match his breathing to back you down from the panic attack you were already spiraling yourself into. time doesn’t seem to be real, but that’s how grief is.

the one thing you know for sure is that you’re grateful aaron’s the one with you. he’s stoic and is, was, close with your mom. 

the second wave of panic hits hard: you’re alone. you have no parents and no one to care for you. you’re going to have to do it on your own.

you eventually run out of tears.

the numbness quickly replaces the weeping.

your mom was dead.

no matter how often that realization hits you, it feels like a fresh wound. you don’t know what happens, nor do you want to. all you can hope is that she went peacefully, that she wasn’t alone.

aaron stays the rest of the night and into the next day.

you barely sleep, a few hours at a time. each time you wake up, without fail, there’s the split second you forget what had happened before it all comes rushing back.

your mom was dead.

__

sergio gets rehomed quickly.

the cat had nudged his way into your room one afternoon. you were alone. parts of the house sat in boxes for your move. you hadn’t even dared to touch anything of your moms. the house was set to stay in your name as an inheritance. if you ever chose to return to d.c. it would serve as a place to stay. 

he jumped on your bed, pawing his way up your duvet to meet where your face was pressed against the mattress, stiff with tears. he meows, seemingly sensing your mood.

and you freak. 

you throw back the covers as you jump up.

“she’s dead, serg!” you scream, voice hoarse. “she’s fucking dead and she’s not coming back!”

sergio just sits, tilting his head.

you break.

looking at him reminds you of your mom. you picked him out, she chose the name. you couldn’t even look at him, let alone take care of him. it was just more pain.

penelope takes him in a heartbeat.

__

family friends in the midwest take you in.

it’s universal that staying in the city, in the home you shared, wouldn’t be good for you.

you leave almost immediately after your mom's funeral.

it’s a big gathering. 

agents from the bureau and friends in the surrounding area are there. the entire team, too. you sit in the front row with j.j. 

you don’t speak, you can’t.

staring at her coffin doesn’t seem real. 

you’re the last one to place a rose on the casket before it's lowered down. tears flood your cheeks and you have to bite your lip to suppress your sob. 

one kiss to the shiny wood and she’s gone.

the team each gives you a long hug. it’s a blur of ‘please reach out if you need anything’ and ‘you have our numbers’ but you appreciate it.

aaron is the one who drives you to the airport. 

you hold his hand the entire way.

__

life moves on but you change.

it marks five months since you left d.c. and the grief of losing your mom never lets up.

you keep the note she wrote the day of her death with you everyday. you trace the ‘i love you’ she signed it with more times than you’d like to admit.

to put it simply, you lose yourself after her death.

everything that made you you seems to disappear. school becomes an afterthought. you pass your sophomore year, barely, but if you didn’t you wouldn’t even care. your voice goes too. staying quiet is easier, better. nothing even feels worth talking about anymore. 

you’re grateful for the people who took you in and they do their best to help, but nothing replaces your mom. nothing will.

you get a call from a random number.

you decline it. you rarely pick up unknown numbers if ever. but when the number calls back two more times, you finally answer.

“hello?”

“is this y/n prentiss?”

you flinch at the last name but hum.

“this is erin strauss. i’m the bau section chief at quantico. i worked above your mother.”

erin strauss? you barely knew the woman, only hearing about her from your mom on the rare occasion she complained about her. why she was calling was beyond you.

she speaks before you can say anything. “while i know you’ve relocated, i do have a box of your mothers things here in washington if you are interested in coming to get them. i know this may seem like a postponed call but i’m sure you understand it’s a sensitive topic.”

she has no idea.

you didn’t know what she could have but you agree. you needed anything else you could get of your moms.

“i can talk to my foster parents and work something out.”

“great, i’ll see you soon.”

it takes you a few weeks after the initial call to make it back to washington d.c. emotions aside, you’re still a minor and flying alone needs additional paperwork. one of your family friends had offered to go with but you declined. you needed to do this on your own.

stepping off the plane, however, you seemingly regret that.

it’s been five months, nearly six, since the funeral. five months since you lost your mom. five months since you had spoken to and seen any of her team. five months since being home.

a car was arranged by your family friends to be waiting at the airport for you to drive to quantico. you ease back into driving in the city quickly, trying desperately to block out the visuals around you that pour memories in your mind.

it takes you nearly a half an hour to walk into quantico. 

seeing the building reminds you of your mom, obviously. you know that she has a picture on the wall with the same inscription on her tombstone, you had seen ones of other agents when you visited her at work. one deep breath and a swipe of tears later and you’re heading in.

when you had informed strauss of your arrival date, she made sure things at security were set. clipping a visitors badge on your shirt feels strange, like you shouldn’t be allowed to be here.

strauss’ office is easy enough to find with the help of an agent.

she isn’t even in there, though the box, clearly labeled, sits on one of the chairs.

you hoist it in your arms, fully intent on leaving the bau though the remembrance of the portrait makes you pause.

you need to see it. even in picture form, you need to see her. 

maybe saying hi to the team wouldn’t be a bad thing either.

you push through the glass doors to the bullpen, eyes darting around to take in the atmosphere you hadn’t seen in so long.

and then you see her.

she’s leaning against j.j.’s desk, laughing at something spencer said across from her. the team, aside from aaron, is out and mingling as well.

she’s alive.

your mom is alive. 

she’s not just alive, but she's standing less than 30 feet away from you.

everything seems to stop. the box in your hands slips out of your grip, clattering to the floor with a loud thud. if there was anything in there that was breakable, you were sure it had shattered.

all eyes in the bullpen snap over to where the commotion is.

you meet your mom's eyes, unable to focus on anything else. 

“y/n-” she breathes out, seemingly in equal awe at seeing you. 

your mom was alive.

when she takes a tentative step towards you, you take one backwards.

the atmosphere of the bau becomes suffocating. the months you spent mourning your mom's death was for nothing. she was here in washington d.c. laughing with her coworkers and she hadn’t reached out to you at all. 

everything is too much to process for you. none of it even makes sense.

you abandon the dropped box, turning on your heel and rushing out of the bullpen.

you take the stairs for the purpose of time. her voice calls your name behind you. in an effort to lose her, you weave your way between floors, taking different staircases until you’re back on the ground floor.

the fresh air outside doesn’t even help.

you avoid going back to your house. it was only yours because your mom left it in your name when she died. or well, faked her death.

instead, you find a hotel and check in. cash, of course. it would take penelope longer to track a paper trail than if you used your debit. 

technically it’s illegal to book hotel rooms for minors but, like with your safety, you were raised as a profiler. lying your way into a room wasn’t hard and you had no shame in using bau relations for further convincing. 

the second the door of your hotel room closes, you break.

betrayal takes over as the primary emotion. you buried her. she didn’t say goodbye and all this time you had thought it was because it was an urgent case. she planned to fake her death and let you mourn her.

the team didn’t even seem shocked by her return; the same ones who held you at her funeral and one of whom spent the entire night after delivering the news comforting you.

oh god, did aaron know?

your mom was alive and she hadn’t even thought of you.

__

you maximize your time at the hotel, choosing the latest possible check out time.

you head back home. that word leaves a sour taste in your mouth. it’s a 50/50 chance if your mom is there or not, but the realization hits that you’ll want, need, to see her.

the key to the home hasn’t changed. it still dangles from your keychain and fits perfectly when you slide it in to unlock the door.

your mom is sitting on the couch when you walk in. sergio purrs beside her, clearly ecstatic that his mom is back.

he jumps off the couch when he hears the door open, parading towards you with a meow. you, however, can only focus on her.

“y/n-” she starts again.

she lets you make the first move, eyes pooling with tears at the site of you.

your tears have long begun to stream down your cheeks. a sob falls from your mouth when you reach her, hands extending out to hold her face.

thumb rests on her pulsepoint on her neck. her heart is beating, steady. that feeling alone makes everything more real.

“how?” is the only question you can ask.

she holds your wrists.

“it doesn’t matter right now, i’ll explain later, okay? i promise,” your mom pleads. “i was waiting until things calmed down a bit before i reached out to you. i’m so so sorry.”

you press your foreheads together. you don’t want an apology. 

“it’s okay mom. i’m just really glad you’re here.” and you mean it.

the two of you spend the greater part of the day crying and holding each other. when you’ve calmed down, you fill your mom in on everything that’s happened.

you go to bed that night with her tucking you in and kissing your forehead like she always used to do. 

“goodnight y/n, i love you so much.” 

“i love you too.”

your mom is alive.