#Prentiss daughter

[hushedlover]

an aaron hotchner x reader where she brings in their kid to the office!! i feel like this could be super cute!!

“Aw, look at her chubby little cheeks!”

Garcia squeals, making grabby hands at the little girl resting on your hip. You laugh and let the blonde woman take your toddler from your arms. The 2 year old claps in delight and immediately latches her hands onto the chunky necklace Garcia was wearing. She was like a crow, anything shiny immediately was in her hands.

“You did good, mama,” Derek smiles as he pulls you into a side hug. You grin up at him and hug him back.

“Thanks, Morgan. Any idea where Aaron is at?” You ask, smiling warmly as Spencer and JJ come over to coo at your little girl too.

“Last I saw, him and Rossi were talking in his office,” Derek chuckles as little Hotchner tugs on Reid’s hair. You smile as you watch her look over at the sound of the deep laugh, your baby immediately squealing at the sight of Uncle Derek.

Suddenly you’re being pulled into a warm chest from behind, strong arms wrapping around your waist to tug you backwards. You laugh softly as Aaron takes a deep breath with his nose pressed to your hair.

“My favorite girls,” He murmurs. “The best surprise.”

“Brought you lunch, too. Thought maybe we could do a picnic,” you hum back. It’s impossible not to lean back into his warmth and close your eyes, just resting like that for a moment.

“Maybe we could steal a few minutes for just us. I don’t think anyone is going to be letting our girl go for the next little bit,” Aaron says with a hint of a laugh in his voice. He watches as his team passes around your little girl, listening intently to the senseless babbles that make up the story she’s telling.

“Sounds perfect to me.”

Pulling out of Aaron’s arms, you grab his large hand and interlace your fingers. JJ catches your eye and send a wink along with a thumbs up, assuring you that she’d keep an eye on your baby girl. Tugging, you lead Aaron out of the bullpen with the team smirking and laughing at the two of you.

[elizabethsnuts]

Hi! Maybe hotchniss x daughter reader whose always got a little frown on her face when she’s in new places and around people she doesn’t know, but once she’s in Aaron or Emily’s arms she’s just a smiley pile of sunshine?🥹

Smiles and Frowns

Hotchniss x Daughter!Reader

Summary: Your parents took you to an event for FBI agents, though every time they put you down you’d get upset.

———

You weren’t the most social toddler, never wanting to be too far from your mum or dad. You didn’t like crowded places or new people, it wasn’t your thing and you definitely made it known.

Aaron and Emily had to take you with them to an important event that most FBI agents had to attend since they had no last-minute babysitter to watch you. They weren’t too sure how you were going to take this whole event.

Emily gently held your tiny hand as she walked into the room filled with various other agents, Aaron was following closely behind the two of you. You immediately froze when you saw the amount of unfamiliar faces in the unfamiliar environment.

Emily looked down at you, smiling softly. “Hey, you’re alright! It’s gonna be okay, everyone here is really nice.”

Despite the reassurance, you still kept your adorable little frown plastered on your face. You hesitated but slowly followed Emily further into the room.

You whined slightly and tried to tug away, quickly changing your mind about going in. “Mama!”

Emily chuckled slightly and immediately picked you up. “Hey, hey, hey, I’ve got you, Mama’s got you. Let’s go say hi to some people, okay?”

Your little face immediately lit up into a big smile as Emily picked you up. You gently played with her dark hair, you had watched her curl it just before leaving the house.

Emily rolled her eyes in amusement at how quickly your mood changed. “Happy now, are we?”

Emily and Aaron were chatting around, you were a little ball of sunshine in Emily’s arms, a big smile on your face the whole time. You were the cutest little thing and people couldn’t help but coo over you.

Emily had put you down for a moment to go to the bathroom, you were still in Aaron’s line of sight so she wasn’t just leaving you. Though you still didn’t enjoy being put down, your smile quickly contorted into an upset frown as you saw Emily walk off.

You played with the frills on the bottom of your dress, mirroring your father's usual frown. You crossed your tiny arms and stomped your foot. An agent squatted down to your level with a smile.

“Hey there! What’s that frown for, little lady?” The agent looked at you gently.

You kept frowning and playing with your dress, your tiny black Mary Janes hitting the floor as you stomped.

Aaron came over with a slight chuckle, picking you up from under your arms and setting you on his hip. “Sorry, she’s not too happy when we put her down.”

Your eyes lit up as Aaron lifted you up, you looked up at him with a big smile. “Daddy!”

Aaron gave you a small smile and tucked some little strands of loose hair behind your ear. “Yes, it’s Daddy.”

The agent chuckled as he witnessed your mood change. “That was a switch up! Now she’s all giggles and smiles.”

Emily appeared beside Aaron and smirked. “Oh, she’s all happy again is she.”

You giggled and took a cupcake off the food table, taking an eager bite. “Yum!”

Emily widened her eyes and chuckled. “Hey! Did you just take that? You didn’t even ask.” Obviously, she wasn’t mad at you, she thought it was amusing that you just took it.

“Mine.” You smiled as you took another bite, getting icing on your cute, little nose and cheeks.

Aaron took a napkin off the table and wiped your face, to which you tried to pull away but he didn’t let you. You held your cupcake up to Aaron’s mouth and smiled. “Daddy, bite.”

Aaron smiled and shook his head slightly. “That’s okay, it’s your cupcake. Your cupcake, honey.” He gently took the cupcake out of your little hands and held it up to your mouth.

You had made it through the event without a tantrum much to Aaron and Emily’s surprise, though it was preventable if they just didn’t put you down or leave. You could be so cranky one second but as soon as your mama or daddy was there you’d light up instantly. You really were the light of both of their lives.

[isagrimorie]

Parallels - Emily and Rossi conspiring

Criminal Minds 12x21 - Green Light | Criminal Minds Evolution 17x05 - Conspiracy vs Theory

[spaceyrosie]

for you, i would ruin myself

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x daughter!reader, hints of Aaron Hotchner x Emily Prentiss Summary: Hotch is a busy man and he truly tried his best to be there for his children, until one day they got into a serious accident, leaving his daughter to be seriously injured. Warnings: heavy angst, sadness, reader got seriously hurt, descriptive injuries, blood, mentions of death, Haley's death, Hotch really tried his best, cliffhanger Author's note: I've been wanting to write for Aaron Hotchner for a while now and have finally gotten the time and inspiration to do so. I don't know if I should make a second part. Word count: 2.1k

“Dad! Hurry or Jack’s going to eat the cake all by himself!” you hollered from the living room.

Jack giggled “No I’m not,” his hand reaching out for the cookies they baked together that afternoon.

It was a peaceful day, one you have wished for a while now. Your dad’s job made it challenging for him to be home during the weekends, but today is one of the days he has taken the day off to celebrate your birthday.

“I’m coming!” Aaron replied walking to the living room to his children.

He had asked you a few weeks prior if you wanted a party for your birthday but you replied only wanting a small and quiet birthday with him and Jack. “I just want to celebrate the moment with the people I love the most, but I don’t get to do that these days.”

Aaron understands that reference, he has been travelling for work a lot in the past months. This is your first birthday since Haley passed, and it’s hard to celebrate without her.

Pulling Jack to his lap, they both sang Happy Birthday before you blew out the candles. Jack cheered, “We eat the cake and cookies now, Daddy? Please,” Giving his best pout, Aaron laughed.

“At least let y/n cut the cake first,” he chuckled while ruffling his son's hair.

As you are about to slice into the cake, they hear the dreaded ringtone from his work phone. Grimacing slightly, he picked up the call and lifted Jack from his lap before walking to the kitchen, “Hotchner. Yes, JJ?”

You tried not to let your emotions down, you knew this was part of his job. But, your fingers trembled as you sliced the cake before handing a plate to Jack. Your dad is still talking on the phone in the kitchen and judging by how his voice lowered, you know what’s about to come.

You tried to bite back the tears that were threatening to fall - will there be a time when your dad can make more time for his own family?

He walks back into the room, face pulled into a frown. He knelt before you, gaze heavy, “I’m so sorry, honey.” He started. “We got pulled into a case. I got to fly to Arizona.”

His apology lingered in the air. You nod, not really trusting your voice at the moment. You swallowed down your disappointment before forcing out a smile. 

“It’s alright, dad.” Your reply was short. You couldn’t let him see the cracks behind your smile. He carried enough burdens, with the weight of his job and being a single parent of two, you couldn’t add your disappointment to his plate.

He frowns not convinced, “Really, me and Jack will just watch Star Wars after this.” Who you are trying to convince, him or yourself, you are not sure.

He looks into your eyes, “I’ll make it up to you, honey,” he whispers, his hand cupping your cheek. You savour this moment - when was the last time Dad held you?

“We’ll be fine, Dad,” You turned away, breaking the contact, and he took the cue to grab his go-bag. Your eyes are misting up but you quickly wipe the tears away not wanting Jack or your dad to see it.

It was your birthday, after all, you are supposed to feel happy, right? Right?

Standing by the door, he crouched down to hug you before pulling away to speak to you, “Happy birthday, honey. I’ll be back soon.”

You watched him walk out the door, knowing he would not be coming home anytime soon.

The next time Hotch dissapoints you was during the end of school year.

The ticking clock felt like a curse, each second mocking his fading hope. Hotch cursed when he saw the time - 3 hours until 7.00 pm.

Looking at the evidence board, he pinched his eyebrows together, the pins and photos taunting him with a case and the fact that he will be disappointing his daughter, again. 

He felt a buzz from his pocket notifying a text from you.

I’m getting ready for the show. See you there!

He didn’t get to reply to the text as Morgan notified him the tactical team was ready to go to the unsub’s place. Pulling on his vest, it felt tight against his chest, burned with frustration and anxiety about the situation. He gripped the steering wheel, knuckles white, as he led the team to the location provided.

Emily sat beside him noticing his tense posture, “You alright, Hotch?”

He doesn’t want his emotions to cloud his judgment while being in the field. Shifting his gaze into a stoic focus, he said, “Yeah, just ready to wrap the case after we catch the unsub.”

Emily was not convinced as her gaze cut through his stoic mask with her head tilted to the side and eyebrow arched. Hotch sighs, “Y/N’s recital… it’s tonight. Her solo. And I won’t be there.”

She winced, the weight of his unspoken pain echoing in the silence of the car.

“I promised to be there but I know even if we get this guy on time, by the time we arrive in Quantico, the show is finished.”

You squinted through the glare of the spotlights where a sea face blurred in your vision. Your eyes, desperate with searching, landed on Aunt Jessica’s sympathetic gaze, followed by the emptiness of the reserved seat beside her. She waved when you both locked eyes and gave you an apologetic look when your eyes lingered on the empty seat next to her.

The audience applauded after your fingers hit the last note, but all you can hear is the deafening silence inside your head. Flashes of should’ve, would’ve echoed in your head, as the seat next to Aunt Jess remained empty even until you took the final bow.

The case dragged on as Hotch and Prentiss interrogate the unsub into a confession. By the time the team puts their reports in, it's almost midnight.

Hotch tiptoed into the living room, the house quiet. Your bedroom door flicked open and you felt your dad’s presence.

“I'm sorry, honey.” His voice rasped, each word carving deeper into your disappointment.

“I-” You started, voice thick with unshed tears “I- I understand, Dad.” The lie tasted bitter in your mouth.

When he remained quiet, you continued, “It's part of the job, right.” You whispered, voice cracking at the end.

Hotch swallowed his guilt, he'll never get to see her perform on stage. “Honey, I-” He puts a hand on your shoulder to offer some sort of comfort. But, the both of you know nothing can take back his action. “I really tried to be there, y/n,” He said instead.

Still looking away from him, you took a shuddered breath before sighing, “I just…” you whispered, “I wished you were there.”

Silence consumed the room as they both weighed their words in.

Somehow, too many disappointments led him to situations he regrets.

Hotch frowned deepened when the traffic slows during the drive back to Quantico. 

“Traffic’s unusual at this hour,” Prentiss muttered on his side.

Hotch grunted not in the mood. The team got called in for a case over the weekend, and they just finished wrapping it up. Despite it being local, he is still pissed to be working on his day off.

Sirens wailed behind their SUV, and he glanced in the rear mirror where an ambulance was passing through the traffic. The traffic moved slowly and they passed by a few police cars parked by the roadside trying to control the traffic where an accident had happened.

Amidst the flashing lights, he saw it - a black sedan crumpled beyond recognition. His breath hitched in his throat as he saw the plates before he pulled to a sudden stop by the roadside.

“Hotch? Why did we stop?”

She followed his gaze to the plate numbers before realisation dawned on her. Not caring to answer her, he jumped out of the SUV before running towards the scene. The smell of gasoline overwhelms his nostrils as his eyes wildly look around the crash site. An officer pulled in front of him, “Sir, please step back.”

“My family!” His roar cut through the atmosphere as he tried to shove past the officer. “Let me through! That’s my family!”

“Aaron!” A familiar voice hollered and he spotted Jessica’s wild curls from a distance. Jessica stumbled toward him, her face smudged with soot and blood stained her shirt. Dread fills his chest as he takes in the condition she is in.

“Jess!” His voice, usually calm and composed, cracked as he pulled her into a crushing embrace. “What’s happened? Where’s Jack?” He threw many questions. “Jess, tell me what happened! Oh my God, where’s y/n?” Aaron could feel the thumping in his chest.

Jess was crying, “I’m sorry, Aaron. I’m really sorry,” she choked out and he almost lost his mind when he heard those words from her.

Then a small figure emerge from the chaos, “Daddy!” Jack’s familiar voice brought some peace to his racing heart. Running towards the boy, who was being attended by a paramedic, he crouched down to console his son’s terrified sobs, “Hey, buddy. Oh Jack, ohh,” Jack was crying, a deep gash etched across his forehead.

His gaze, frantic and desperate, scoured the scene before he landed on a stretcher with you lying on top. He felt his heart drop when he saw your face, pale with a brutal gash mirroring the one on Jack’s head.

“y/n!” The name ripped from his throat as he nearly scrambled to run towards you.

“y/n! Open your eyes, sweetheart,” Aaron begged as he stood by your side. 

“Sir, please step aside so we can help her,” One of the paramedics told him.

He begged, “P-please, she’s my daughter,” Tears were streaming down his face, “Y/n, I’m here, sweetheart. I’m here,” He sobbed trying to take hold of your hand. It felt cold to his touch, you have lost too much blood, causing your body temperature to drop.

You stirred before your eyes fluttered open, “D- dad?” your voice croaked.

Gripping your hand tightly, “I’m here, honey. Dad’s here,” Aaron assured.

Gaze unfocused as your eyes stared ahead, “D- dad, you’re h-here?” You try to reach out. Aaron tried to smooth out the hair out of your face, his face coming into your view.

“I’m here, y/n.” He assured again.

“Dad… it hurts...” You cried, and Hotch felt like his heart had been stabbed. Your whole body was on fire and your breathing hurt. Tears were streaming down your cheeks, mingling with the blood smearing your face.

“I know, sweetheart, I know. But you’re going to be okay. They are going to help you, okay.” His reassurances trembled, knowing he should not make any promises given the condition you are in.

Before you could reply, your eyes fluttered shut before your grip slackened in his. He panicked, calling out your name, “Wake up y/n,” His calloused hand cupped your cheeks, a silent plea etched in his words.

“Don’t do this, honey. Open your eyes, y/n.” His voice, usually strong and steady, cracked as he choked back a sob.

“Step aside, sir.” One of the paramedics immediately rushed.

Right in front of him, he saw another paramedic insert a breathing tube into his daughter’s mouth to help you breathe. Aaron saw his world turned dark when the monitor connecting to your chest beeped rapidly, signalling the heart's struggle to beat rhythmically. 

Hotch felt like he failed you.

He failed to protect you.

He failed to be the father you need.

“We are going to be taking your daughter to Georgetown University Hospital, sir,” The paramedic informed as the stretcher was wheeled into the ambulance. “She’s not stable, you can follow us in your vehicle,” He said sympathetically.

His fingers dug into the cold metal of the stretcher, refusing to let go. "I have to be with her," his voice rough with desperation. "Please, just let me hold her hand."

The paramedic's gaze softened, but his hands stayed firm. "She's losing too much blood, sir. Every minute counts. You'll be with her soon, I promise."

Aaron nodded and released his grip, a sob escaping his throat. Images flickered behind his eyes: empty birthday chairs, unanswered phone calls, a whispered promise to come home. How many times had he failed to be there? How many moments had slipped through his fingers, swallowed by the demands of work?

Haley’s pained voice, etched in his memory, morphed into y/n’s bloodied face.

How many times have you needed him but he wasn’t there?

How many times did he leave his family for work?

His knees buckled as he watched the ambulance drive into the night, flashing sirens blurring into the smoked air. His hands trembled on his side unable to control the weight of guilt inside him.

Emily’s voice cut through the fog, “Hotch,” No amount of words can offer him any comfort in that moment. She tried, nevertheless, “She’s strong, Aaron.” 

He hopes so.

He really hopes that you’ll be okay.

[rainynvght]

If Emily Prentiss had a daughter

Bedtime Stories: Emily would read her daughter stories every night, but she’d pick books with strong female characters or tales that teach resilience, courage, and kindness.

Bedtime Stories Part 2: When reading bedtime stories, Emily would use all kinds of silly voices for the characters, making her daughter giggle uncontrollably. Sometimes, they’d make up their own stories, with her daughter adding wild plot twists and Emily going along with it, no matter how crazy it gets.

Teaching her different languages: She would start teaching her daughter different languages from a young age. They’d have fun “secret” conversations in French or Italian that only they could understand, making her daughter feel special and worldly.

Movie Nights: Their movie nights wouldn’t just be about watching films; Emily would turn them into themed events. If they were watching a spy movie, they’d dress up in black and play “secret agents” before the movie started. If it’s a baking competition show, they’d make their own treats to eat while watching.

Mother-Daughter Spa Days: They’d have regular “spa days” at home, where they’d paint each other’s nails, do face masks, and relax with herbal tea. It’s a special way for them to unwind and bond, and Emily would use this time to talk about self-care and the importance of taking care of one’s mental and physical health.

Balance of Freedom and Guidance: Emily would be the type of mom who gives her daughter the freedom to make her own choices, but she’d always be there to guide her when needed. She’d trust her daughter to be independent, but would also be ready to step in with advice or support whenever her daughter needed it.

Adventures in the Kitchen: Emily and her daughter would love to cook together, trying out new recipes and experimenting with different cuisines. It's safe to say that, by the time her daughter turns seven years old, she would outdo her mom in terms of cooking.

Protective Mom: Emily, who has experienced the evil of the world due to her work, would be very protective, sometimes even a little to over-protective. She would worry about her girl at all times, making sure to contact her every few hours, even when on a harsh case. Her little girl is her entire world.

Matching outfits: On special days, like birthdays or just because they feel like it, Emily and her daughter would wear matching outfits. Whether it’s matching pajamas for a cozy movie night or similar scarves on a chilly day, they’d have fun being twinning buddies.

Little lunchbox notes: Every morning, Emily would leave a tiny note in her daughter’s lunchbox or backpack with a sweet message like, “You’re going to rock today!” or “Can’t wait to hear about your day!” It’s a little boost of love that her daughter would look forward to every day.

Secret Handshake: Emily and her daughter would have a secret handshake that they’d do whenever they needed a little boost of confidence.

First Snow Tradition: The first snowfall of the year would be a special occasion in the Prentiss household. Emily would bundle her daughter up, and they’d run outside to catch snowflakes on their tongues, make snow angels, and build the first snowman of the season together. Afterward, they’d warm up with hot cocoa and marshmallows.

[illdowhatiwantthanks]

Loved your Emily x teenage daughter reader! Can you do another one where she starts feeling pressure to start having sex because a bunch of her friends are and Emily finds out so she talks with her about it

Hey, anon! I got two super similar requests back-to-back, so this is kind of a two-for-one, but I hope it's what you're looking for! – illdowhatiwantthanks

The World's Largest Box of Condoms

Emily Prentiss x daughter!reader Warnings: discussions about sex, safe sex, genitalia, etc., so much secondhand embarrassment, explicit language (let me know if I've missed anything!) Word count: 1.7k

Summary: When your mom, Emily, finds your quickly-hidden box of condoms in the bathroom, you know you're in for one hell of a conversation.

“Honey!” your mom called from the bathroom, loud enough that you could hear her through your headphones. You pulled them off and listened for a moment before yelling back.

“What!?”

“Can you come in here, please!?”

You shrugged. Whatever it was, at least it’d be a nice break from your trigonometry homework. You tossed your pencil and headphones on top of your textbook and sauntered down the hall to the bathroom.

“What, Mom?” you asked, but your breath caught in your throat when you saw what she had sitting on the counter. It was condoms. So many condoms. The embarrassingly gigantic box of condoms you’d ordered on Amazon and hid behind the toilet paper. Which, in hindsight, was a stupid place to hide them. Your face flushed beet red.

She looked at you, stern, eyebrows raised. “You want to tell me why you’ve got a thousand condoms? I mean, Jesus, honey, I don’t know that I’ve used a thousand condoms in my life.”

“Mom, I–” You were floundering, sputtering, your stomach in your throat. “I can explain, I… Please don’t be mad.” You stared at the ground, face flaming.

To your surprise, your mom just laughed. You glanced up and found her rubbing her forehead, staring at the box. “A thousand condoms,” she chuckled, more to herself than you. “Oh, honey.” She threw an arm around your shoulder and kissed the top of your head. “I’m not mad. I just wish you'd talked to me before spending your life’s savings on the world’s largest box of condoms.”

“Y–you’re not mad?” you said, stumbling through your words, a cold sweat on the back of your neck.

She shook her head. “Nope. We do need to have a very frank discussion now, though.”

“Oh, god, Mom,” you protested.

“Look, I don’t know what they teach you in sex ed, but I can assure you in my day it was not enough.” She grabbed the box of condoms and moved toward the living room. “And I’ll be damned if my kid doesn’t know what they’re getting into. Come on, Y/N.”

You groaned, but followed her, sitting uncomfortably on the couch across from where your mom lounged in an armchair.

“Look, I understand this might feel awkward,” she started. “It’s not the most comfortable conversation I’ve ever had either. But I want you to know you can talk to me about this even if it’s awkward. And, above all, I want you to have all the information and resources you need to be safe. Okay?”

“Okay,” you said quietly. 

Your mom exhaled heavily, then looked at you. “Alright, first things first, are you sexually active?”

You thought your face might be permanently flushed at this point. “No. Not… not yet. It’s not what you think, I just… my friends all are and I– I wanted to be ready I guess.”

She nodded. “Okay. That’s okay. When you’re ready and who that’s with, those are your decisions, okay? But I want you to keep in mind when you get into those situations to think about how you’re feeling.”

“Like… what kind of feelings?”

“Well,” your mom shrugged. “I mean, for starters, does it feel good?”

“Oh my god, Mom!” you squealed, burying your face in a pillow.

“Sorry! But, as I’m sure you know, sex is supposed to feel good! I’ve had sex that felt great and sex that felt like shit, and sometimes I didn’t realize that “not feeling good” was a good enough reason to stop.”

You groaned into the pillow. You did not want to hear about your mom’s sex life. You knew she was just trying to educate you and help you and she was but… ugh! Why’d it have to be so awkward?!

She was in full mom mode now, her voice stern like a teacher’s. “When you’re in a situation where you’re thinking about having sex, you need to ask yourself, Do I feel safe? Do I feel good? Do I want to do this because I want to do it or because someone else wants me to?”

You nodded, exhaling slowly.

“And anytime you decide you want to stop, any time it doesn’t feel good or safe, the other person stops. Always. If they don’t, that is abusive behavior and you can call for help or do whatever you need to do to get safe.”

“I know all this already, Mom,” you needled. “Consent is king, blah, blah, blah.”

“And that goes for you, too,” she added, pointing at you. “If someone you’re with gives you anything less than wholehearted consent, or if they decide they want to stop, you stop. If they’re drunk or high, stop. If you’re drunk or high, stop.”

“Of course,” you said, throwing your hands up. “I would never, Mom. You know that.”

“I know, but…” She took a long sip of her wine. “It bears repeating.” She patted her leg. “Alright, now we get down to the dirty details.”

“Mom!” You were terrified. Exactly what kind of dirty details needed to be gotten down to!?

She cracked a smile. “I’ll try not to make it too hard on you, honey. Now, are you on birth control?”

You shook your head and gestured toward the box of condoms. “I mean, I was gonna be safe, though…”

Your mom shook her head and pulled out her phone. “Condoms aren’t 100% effective. I’ll make an appointment for you this week so we can get you on it. I will ask you not to engage in any sexual activity until after your birth control becomes effective, though, okay?”

“Yeah, of course,” you mumbled.

“Now, are you planning on having sex with women at all?”

“I–” Your voice caught in your throat. “No, I mean… I don’t think so.”

“Okay, well, just in case…” she said, holding up her hands defensively. “If you have sex with a woman, you still need to be cautious about STDs. Just be open with one another about your sexual history. I’m happy to take you to get an STD screening anytime you want. I have some dental dams around here somewhere, too, if you want them, but I think STD screenings are more effective with women.”

Suddenly, you were looking at your mom with new eyes. “You know a lot about being with women…” you observed.

Your mom gave you a look of equal parts love and equal parts pity. “Oh, honey. Why do you think your babysitters always stayed the night after I got back from working cases?”

Your jaw dropped. “You– what!?”

“The only people I trusted you with for that long were girlfriends, honey.” She took another swig of wine.

“You’re bi!?’

“Honey, we’ve talked about this,” your mom insisted. “When we first started talking about sex in elementary school, remember? I told you 99% of the time I liked women better.”

You felt like you were losing your mind. “You just said that you had better connections with women! Not that you sleep with women!”

“Is that right?” Emily said, wincing. “Yikes. My bad, sweetheart. I guess I just assumed you would have put two and two together by now.”

“Okay, well, I guess I’m just fucking dumb,” you grumbled, still shaken.

“You’re not dumb.” Your mom sighed.” I should have been more up front. We had pride flags and everything, though! We even went to Pride!”

You shrugged. “I just thought you were a really passionate ally.”

You looked up and your mom’s shoulders were shaking with laughter, and you couldn’t help but laugh with her. When you both finally calmed down, she exhaled sharply.

“Alright, just a few more things. I promise!” she added when you groaned.

She looked at the ceiling, as if trying to summon all of her advice about sex.

“If a guy doesn’t want to wear a condom, do not sleep with him. They’ll try to say it doesn’t feel the same and maybe it doesn’t. I don’t give a fuck personally. The risk of getting pregnant is way more concerning to me than the risk of him having a slightly less great sexual experience. Always use a condom with a man.”

You nodded.

“The good news is, you’ll always have enough,” your mom grinned, pointing to the box.

You blushed and giggled.

"In all seriousness, though, condoms do expire. They last... three to five years, I think? But don't use an expired condom, it breaks down more easily."

She exhaled heavily. "Now, this last part is the most important, okay?” Your mom set her wine down, stood, and moved to sit next to you, taking your hand in hers. You avoided her eyes, cheeks red.

“If you ever feel in danger or in trouble, if you ever get pregnant, if you ever need help, you call me.”

She squeezed your hand, and you squeezed hers back. No matter how excruciatingly awkward this conversation had been, no matter how much you kind of wished you were anywhere else, you knew your mom would be there for you. You were glad to have a mom who wasn’t judgy, one who helped you be safe and trusted you to make good decisions. One who would help you even if you didn’t make good decisions.

“Alright?” she prompted. “You call me. And you be safe.”

And it was only then when you looked at your mom that you realized that as hard as this conversation had been for you, it might have been harder for her. She was a protective woman, your mom, an FBI agent. She’d literally kill someone before letting you get hurt. It was hard for her to let you go, probably. Hard for her to let you grow up.

“I will, Mom. I promise,” you assured her.

She exhaled deeply and kissed the top of your head, then gave you a light whack on the arm. “Alright. That’s all I’ve got. You can get back to your… geometry or whatever you’re working on.”

“Trig,” you corrected.

She nodded, sinking back into the armchair with her glass of wine, seemingly relieved the conversation was over.

“Oh, Y/N?” she called just as you stepped into the hallway. You turned to look at her, then blushed as she held your jumbo box of condoms up to you.

“Don’t forget your condoms, honey,” she chuckled. You snatched them from her blushing, but smiled as you turned back to your room. When you thought about it, you really did have a cool mom.

[schemmentits]

A mother’s love (is unlike any other)

Author’s Note: I’m a person who suffers from GAD and this fic is entirely based off of my experience with this disorder. Everybody’s experience is different and this piece of material is not meant to disrespect anybody else’s journey or struggles. Enjoy🤍

Summary: You are Emily’s sixteen year old daughter and you’ve not been feeling well for a while so you’ve sought out Tara’s help. You see her twice a month behind Emily’s back, until you decide that it’s time you talk to her.

TW: self harm, GAD, panic attack, panic disorder.

————————————————————————

You sneak into the BAU like you’ve been doing for the past three months. Almost every week, your mother, Emily Prentiss, being the Section Chief of the behavioral analysis unit has a meeting with her higher ups regarding her team. You know because every time she comes home bitching about the ‘entitled white pricks’ that make her life a living hell.

When that day is to come you and Tara, your mother’s colleague, text each other and set a therapy appointment for the hour Emily will be stuck in a conference room being bored out of her mind. Thankfully, those meetings tend to happen every Tuesday, a day where you first period at school is free and therefore you have the choice not to go until the second period is meant to start.

You pass the security, Jeff greeting you with a smile while passing you your visitor’s badge and you smile back passing him back a coffee. They have a silent agreement; so long as she brings him coffee he does not let her mother know of her whereabouts. You’ve made sure to dress in a way where you could blend in — stealing clothes of your mother’s, old pairs of jeans and shirts that she doesn’t wear anymore but used to wear when she was younger, a blouse and a leather jacket— and you go unnoticed every time.

You get off the elevator on floor below the BAU and then take the stairs, avoiding coming face to face with any other members of your mother’s team that could recognize you. You climb up the flight of stairs, open the door at the end of them and quickly look right and left as agents pass in front of her in a hurry. You notice Tara leaning up against a wall checking her phone and you start approaching her.

The moment the woman spots you she stands up a little straighter and a smile graces her features. You take quick steps towards her and you do a little happy dance on the inside, having accomplished yet again the mission of sneaking into the FBI headquarters undetected.

But that is not the case today.

You are only a few feet away from Tara when someone rounds a corner and you bump right into them. “Watch it!” They say in a harsh, exhausted tone.

“I’m sorry.” You respond and then look up. “Mom.” You squeak out as your mother’s brown eyes pierce through your own.

“Y/n, what are you doing here?” She asks you confused, until worry settles on her face. “Are you okay? Did something happen?”

“No, no, I’m okay.” You reply quickly, stealing glances with Tara who also knows that you are utterly screwed.

“Alright.” Your mom says, relief washing over her, but confusion remaining a dominant emotion in her features. “Then what are you doing here?”

“I…” you start, words failing both you and Tara who just shakes her head in something that resembles fear. You cannot blame her, your mother can be a rather scary individual.

The woman behind your mother clears her throat, making her presence known to her boss. “She is here to surprise you, isn’t that right, y/n?” Tara says and your mom looks back and forth between the two of you.

“Surprise me.” She repeats, looking into your soul and making you heart beat faster than it does when you run laps in gym class.

You nod your head furiously. “Surprise you, yes. And you ruined it.” You day with a chuckle. “I thought, we could have breakfast together, you know?” Tara presses her lips together and you resist the urge to scowl at her. You know the excuse is lame but you’ve never been good at improvisation. Or lying to your mother.

“You drove all the way to Quantico, on a school day, to have breakfast with me.” The raised eyebrow that is borderline reaching her hairline lets you know that you’ve been caught on the lie.

However, you hold on to false hope. “Yeah, I mean, do you even remember the last time we had breakfast together?” You scoff. “I sure don’t.”

She nods her head, pursing her lips, and suddenly she reminds you of that one Meryl Strip movie where she plays that woman running a magazine and you feel like Anne Hathaway on her first day working for her.

She looks back at Tara who just shrugs at her. Your mom looks to her left and opens the door to the office you and Tara usually have your sessions. “In here. Now.” She says, her voice not leaving room for arguments.

“I’m just gonna-” Tara starts, but your mom doesn’t let her get away with it, either.

“You,” she says looking at Tara in a way that must be even scarier than her usual because Tara cannot even look her in the eye, “are not going anywhere. Get in here.”

You both enter and Tara scowls at you. “Breakfast?” She whispers. “That’s the best you got?”

“You said she had a meeting.” You whisper back.

Behind you, your mom slams the door shut and locks it before turning around, crossing her arms over her chest and looking at the both of you waiting for an explanation. “I can stand here and wait for either one of you to talk. I’ve got nothing better to do.” She lets you know and she means business.

You look at Tara for help, hoping that she can get you out of this. “You know I can’t lie.” Tara tells you I’m that gentle soothing tone she uses in your sessions. “But I won’t talk unless I have your permission.”

“Why do you need her permission?” Your mom asks with a frown.

You look between Tara and your mom and you can feel the panic rising in your chest. It starts with something the size of the iceberg that hit the titanic settling on your chest, making your breathing shallow. Your breaths are quick and shallow, your heart is beating approximately a hundred and fifty beats per minute, your ears have started ringing and your vision is getting blurry. Everything starts to go numb, starting with your fingers and slowly spreading throughout your body and then you are paralyzed.

You can feel two pairs of hands moving you to sit and as your ass hits the couch, feeling comes back to your limbs and you realize you’ve stopped breathing. You suck in a breath and look around in panic and you can see your mother saying something, trying to get your attention.

“Emily, with all due respect, either shut up or get out.” You hear Tara say before turning her attention back to you. “Y/n, look at me, focus on my voice.” She says and you try your damn best to do so. “Good job, honey, now breathe.” She says and counts to five as you breathe. “And out.” She says, counting to five once again.

She makes you repeat that same exercise ten times, just to make sure that your breathing is normal and you are significantly calmer than a few minutes ago. And you do. Your pulse is back to a normal rhythm, your legs and hands are no longer tingly and your vision is no longer covered by tiny black spots.

“Touch your fingers with your thumbs.” Tara instructs you and only now you notices that she is a crouched down in front of you on the couch.

You lift your hands slightly and while your movements are shaky you manage to do the simple task you were assigned. You repeat it as many times as it takes for the trembling to stop and only when it does you dare look over to your mother.

Tears gather in your eyes as you see her wet face and the hand covering her mouth to keep you from noticing her quivering lip. “Mama?” You manage to let out.

She’s by your side right away, sitting down next to you and wrapping her arms around you, enveloping you in a ‘mama bear hug’ as you two call them. She kisses your temple, runs her hand up and down your arm and whispers lovingly in your ear that ‘you’re gonna be okay’ and ‘I love you’.

“I’m sorry.” You say with your face buried in her shoulder, soaking her shirt with your tears. “I’m so sorry, mama.” You say again and she holds you tighter against her.

“You have nothing to be sorry for, my little angel, you hear me?” She says, a tear falling from her chin to your head. “Nothing.” She repeats and kisses the top of your head.

“Y/n, do you wanna talk to your mom alone or do you want me to stay?” Tara asks.

You raise you head from your mother’s shoulder and wipe your face from the tears with the sleeve of your blouse. “Give us a few minutes?” You ask. “I’ll text you to come in if I need you.”

Tara nods and stands up. “Of course.” She says.

As she walks to the door you stop her before she can open it. “Tara?” You hear yourself saying. She turns her head and looks at you over her shoulder. “Thank you.” You say.

Tara smiles at you. “Any time mini Prentiss.” She winks and walks out, closing the door behind her.

You scoot away from your mom, creating some space between the two of you and at the same time bracing yourself for the conversation that’s about to happen. “Honey, what is going on?” She asks reaching out and taking on of your hands in hers.

You don’t pull away and instead hold onto it as if it’s your lifeline. “I-” you pause because this is not an easy things to say and you are certain that it’s not going to be easier for your mother to hear. “I hurt myself.” You finally admit. “A while ago.”

Your mother’s eyes immediately fill with tears at this. “You attempted-”

You are quick to stop her. “No, I didn’t attempt anything.” You say. “But I have been feeling overwhelmed, more than usual. It feels as though my brain travels faster than light does and I tried so many things to make it stopped but nothing worked.” You swallow the lump in your throat and your mom squeezes your hand, prompting you to continue. “So I resulted to self harm. It was the only thing that worked. It was the only thing that allowed me a few moments of peace and quiet from everything that has been going on in my head.”

She nods, wiping away a few stray tears with her free hand. “Are you still doing it?”

You shake your head. “I haven’t self harmed for almost a month now.” You admit, proudly.

She smiles at you. “I’m really proud of you.” She says. “For telling me, for finding the strength to stop, for asking for help.” She brings your hand up to her lips and kisses it. “My sweet angel, why didn’t you come to me right away?” She asks you.

You sigh, because you are still searching for the answer to that question. “I don’t know.” You respond. “I guess Tara seemed like the easiest choice. I guess I wanted to know what’s wrong with me first before I worried you.”

She chuckles at that and shakes her head. “Honey, I’m your mom. Worrying at all times for everything in the job description.”

You giggle at that. “So you are not mad?” You ask, your voice coming out small and scared while your eyes wander around the room.

“Hey, look at me.” She says, placing her free hand under your chin and turning your head gently so it’s facing her. “I could never be mad at you for something like this.” She assures you. “It’s not something you can control, sweetie.”

You scoff. “I know that now.” You say and she chuckles at the hints of your attitude resurfacing again. Hints of an attitude that matched her own.

“So,” she asks, “what did Tara say? Is there a diagnosis?”

You sigh. “Generalized Anxiety Disorder and panic disorder. I was planning on telling you soon, because Tara wants to start me on medication.”

She nods. “Okay, why don’t you text her to come in here so we can discuss it?”

You take out your phone and shoot her a text.

You: She wants to talk. Can’t believe you told her to shut up. She’s gonna kill you.

Tara: I am scared.

You: Just teasing. She’s cool.

Tara: She’s turned you into an exact replica of her.

You: Thanks!

Tara: It wasn’t a compliment.

You laugh and put your phone back in your pocket. “She’ll be here shortly.” You inform your mother. “Go easy on her, alright? I asked her to keep it between and she was under doctor-patient confidentiality. I could sue her.”

She laughs before hugging you once again, this time not a hug of hurt and worry but a hug of love and relief. “I love you so much my little angel.” She says.

You smile. “Love you, too, mom.”

[hyperfixatedoncrimminalminds]

ahhhh! i was the anon who requested the most recent hotch!daughter fic! tysm for writing that. the most adorable thing ever <3!!!

is it ok to have a sort of follow up on that fic? maybe reader comes back and forces hotch and all the bau members to play princess tea party with her during their lunch break haha?

Aaron Hotchner X Young Daughter Reader Pt 2

Request : ahhhh! i was the anon who requested the most recent hotch!daughter fic! tysm for writing that. the most adorable thing ever <3!!!

is it ok to have a sort of follow up on that fic? maybe reader comes back and forces hotch and all the bau members to play princess tea party with her during their lunch break haha?

Start of recap...

Following his arm Hotch breathed a sigh off relief as he saw where Y/N had got to, smiling he watched his daughter laugh and play with the young doctors hair.

He was glad she was okay and made a new friend. Quickly taking a few pictures he sends them to Haily who messaged back just a quick. "Some one made a new friend" chuckling he responded. "I think they both made a new friend"

Putting his phone away he went back to his office, happy to leave his daughter in his agents capable hands.

End of recap...

Third person pov...

A couple months after Hotch and Haily get a divorce. Haley has the kids most of the time and Hotch gets visitation rights, little Y/N loves spending time with her Daddy.

It was a typical day at the FBI academy for Aaron Hotchner, the team's stoic leader.

As they were reviewing their case files and strategizing for their next case, Hotchner's phone rang. He picked it up and on the other end was his ex-wife, Haley.

Hotchner's heart skipped a beat as he heard the sound of his two-year-old daughter, laughing in the background.

The spending if her voice grew louder, she had come closer to the phone.

"Hi daddy!" She squeals as she sees his contact. Hotch let's a smile fall on his lips. "Hi baby, you want to spend the day with me and the team?" He asks the young girl.

Hotch immediately pulls the phone far away from his ears as his Daughter screams in joy shouting into the phone. "Yes yes yes!" Hotch laughs at how excited the little girl sounds.

After getting the phone back, Haley explained that their original babysitter had called in sick and she had an important meeting she couldn't miss, Jack had school so She asked if Aaron could take care of Y/N for the day.

Despite his busy schedule, Hotchner couldn't say no to spending time with his daughter. He quickly made arrangements for Y/N to come to the BAU office and inform the team that they would have a special guest for the day.

As the clock struck 12, Agent Hotchner was in his office, going through files when suddenly he heard a knock on his door.

"Come in" he called out, not looking up from his work.

To his surprise, it wasn't one of his team members, but his 2 year old Daughter

Y/N standing in front of him with a huge smile on her face.

"Daddy!" she exclaimed, running towards him.

"Hey, Princess have a safe trip" Hotch asked, lifting her up in his arms. The energetic girl smiled and hugged his neck. "Yep I did, can we play daddy?" she asks the man, giggling.

Hotch chuckled, "i'm sorry sweetie, but Daddy has to work right now. Maybe later, okay?" The H/C girl pouted, but before Hotch could say anything else.

she suddenly let out a loud giggle and ran out of his office. Hotch shrugged, thinking it was just a phase and went back to his work.

But 5 minutes later, he heard more giggling and the sound of his door opening again.

This time, it was the whole BAU team following Y/N who was dressed in a pink princess dress with a tiara on her head.

She was holding the young Dr's hand who was smiling, Y/N still loved Spencer the most apart from her Daddy of course

"Hotch, we have a problem" Rossi said, a serious look on his face but trying to hold back his laughter.

Hotch raised an eyebrow, "What's going on?" Everyone one of them after trying to keep a straight face.

"Morgan found this little princess wandering around the bullpen, claiming that she was here to play with you" JJ explained, trying not to laugh

Before he could say anything, Y/N ran towards him and tugged on his shirt. "Daddy, I wanna play tea party with you and your friends!"

Hotch looked at his team, trying to hide his amusement. But seeing their pleading faces, he knew there was no way he could deny his daughter's request.

"Okay, just for a little while" Hotch said, putting the little girl down and joining the others in the break room.

Y/N clapped her hands in excitement as she dragged Spencer out of her Daddies office and to the found table room.

She then passed out plastic tea cups and saucers to everyone. "You're the queen, Daddy!" She said, placing a tiara on Hotch's head.

The team couldn't help but laugh as they pretended to sip imaginary tea and have conversations with the little princess.

They even played make-believe with her, pretending to be princes and princesses in a magical kingdom.

Hotch was the Queen, Rossi was the King, Y/N of course was a Princess, Spencer the court magician, Penelope the fairy God Mother, Derek a Knight, JJ and Emily were princesses with Y/N.

For the next hour, the BAU team forgot about their stressful job and just enjoyed the innocent fun with their bosses daughter.

Hotch couldn't remember the last time he laughed this much, and seeing his team bonding with his daughter made his heart warm.

As the lunch break came to an end and they had to get back to work, Y/N hugged each team member tightly, thanking them for playing with her.

"Thanks for saving my princess, Hotch" Derek said, high-fiving him as they all left the break room.

Hotch smiled, feeling grateful for his team and their willingness to be a part of his daughter's little tea party adventure.

From that day on, whenever little Y/N would visit him at work, the team would always set aside some time to play with her.

Hotch couldn't be happier, knowing that his daughter was being raised in a loving and supportive environment.

The end!

I hope you liked this oneshot, so sorry for the wait. Finally got around to writing this. Sorry for any grammar and Spelling mistakes.

Request are open!

Word count: 1100

[generaldonutnerd]

Silent Fever

Summary:

You are sick while your mother is away for work.

Word count :1900+

Pairing: Emily Prentiss x Daughter reader

Genre: Hurt/Comfort

Warning: mention of vomiting

Note: I wrote this pretty fast so I am sorry if it feels rushed of if there are any grammar mistakes .

You had had woken up feeling sick .Your mother might know where she put the medicine, but she left two days ago for work and you didn't want to call her, worried she might lay her work down and come back immediately.

Not wanting to disrupt her important job, you made your way to the bathroom to search for the medicine.

Unfortunately, you couldn't find any. Suddenly, a wave of nausea hit you, and you ended up vomiting into the toilet.

Exhausted and feverish, you lay down on the cold bathroom floor, finding the cool tiles soothing against your back. Before you knew it, you had fallen asleep there.

A familiar voice called you out of your slumber, and you felt a hand on your forehead and the other one grabbed your shoulder shoulder.

"What are you doing on the bathroom floor?" your mother asked, flinching as she felt how high your fever was. "Oh my goodness, you're burning up!"she said concerned of how long you have been laying there.

You didn't answer, still half asleep and dizzy. "Come on, let's get you to bed," she said, helping you up from the floor with a tight grip. "Can you walk?"

Barely conscious, you nodded weakly as she guided you back to your bed. "Why didn't you call me?" Emily asked, her voice filled with concern.

"I didn't want to disturb you," you mumbled as she tucked you in.

"Disturb me?" she exclaimed. "Your health is more important than any case. Next time, call me, no matter what."she answerd in a harsh tone.

You were relaxing into the bed and watched as your mother left the room. She came back with some fever reducer and sat in front of you, helping you take the medicine.

"Why are you back already?" you asked weakly.

"The last time we talked, you said it could take another week to finish the case."

She gave you a weak smile as she handed you the pills and a glass of water. "We got some new information from a former victim who survived. It helped us close the case earlier than expected."

You swallowed the medicine and looked at her, feeling a mix of relief and guilt. "I'm sorry, Mom. I didn't want to bother you."

Her expression turned serious. "This is the last thing you should be worried about," Emily said, her voice firm. "I'm angry that you didn't call me. Your health is far more important than my job."

"I'm sorry," you whispered, tears welling up in your eyes.

Seeing your distress, she softened. "I know, honey. But next time, please, call me. No matter what. You're more important to me than any job."

You nodded, feeling the exhaustion and sickness taking over. "Okay, Mom. I promise."

She leaned in, kissing your forehead. "Good. Now get some rest. I'll be right here if you need anything."

[jessicaslittlelovesickmess]

Your mama’s crying

Pairing: Emily Prentiss x daughter reader

Warning: death, angst, Ian Doyle, depression, Ian calling reader by her “name”

It had been seven months…

Seven months since your mother had passed, your best friend had died at the hands of your father Ian Doyle. Seven months of losing yourself and recreating a new version of who you once were, everything had changed once she left, even me.

I couldn't bare looking into the mirror to stare at the dark eyes, raven hair that I mourned the loss of so I dyed it. Pink. Purple. Blue. Green. Red. Before settling on a beautiful Blonde that she would've loved. I swapped my glasses for coloured contacts, it hurt to see the ghost of my mother in myself.

Seven months and yet it felt like seven years..

The first day had begun a month after mum had passed, I was curled in her bed my face smothered in her blankets that were slowly loosing her scent. Morgan had burst into the room throwing my gym clothes at me telling me to get ready, we ran ten kilometres that day only stopping at the lookout on the hill to yell out our frustrations at the world.

It became a routine of sorts and sometimes Penelope would join us although she couldn’t keep up with us as often. It was okay. We would be okay, Sergio clung to me more as the months grew almost as if he just knew.

I sat with Derek on the roof, his arm wrapped securely around my shoulders as we spoke "I miss her" I whispered curling myself into him more. "Me too, miniP' he kissed my head before resting his cheek on it"me too he repeated sadly "she'd be proud of you, you know that right?" | nodded biting my lip.

I hope she would be

Although I wanted revenge

I had graduated university top of my class with the team cheering me on in the crowd, how was I to see those two guilty faces. It hurt my mother not being in the front row like she was meant to but I imagined she had been.

My father loved me in a strange way

The team thought it best to use me as the bait to catch him, I called him to a cafe just a quiet one that I had visited him before at. Staring at him I felt nothing, his face was blank “whats the softest way to say you took away my friend, my buddy?. Whats the kindest way to say you took away my friend?”.

“You wouldn’t understand Alora” he whispered “so help me understand father” hopefully the team should walk in any moment. “It was simply fate my dear, we have a past” fate? Fate took my mother? My heart had shattering once more.

I wanted to scream and cry, throw anything available at him but I was just so numb and maybe he knew that as he leaned over. Placing a gentle kiss on my forehead before the team burst in “Je t'aime Y/n” he whispered I love you Y/n “Adieu père” I whispered. Goodbye father

How dare he simply call it fate

“Elle m'a enlevé ma fille”

She took my daughter away

I was bound to him, mum was bound to him

I was his daughter

It was all a blur as he was arrested, I had become numb but I knew I hated France it would never be the same I’m not sure Virginia could be the same anymore.

I never went home that day, finding myself at Penelope’s front doorstep tears streaming down my face. Her arms had become home I wondered if my mother would be disappointed in me- of who I had become.

“Oh my sweetheart”

I wished I could’ve told her sooner about my adoration for women of my harboured feelings for an older blonde that I had no chance with. I had an internship with the bau while I found a job that I actually wanted, I had plans just as my mother once had.

We had been called into the conference room, I stood near the back “everyone take a seat” Hotch sighed as JJ stood beside him. "7 months ago I made a decision that affected this Team." he said, and I knew immediatly that this was about mum.

"As you know, Emily had lost a lot of blood after her fight with Doyle. The doctors were able to stabilize her and she was airlifted from Boston to Bethesda under a covert exfilitration. Her identity was strictly need-to-know." he said and I felt sick to my stomach.

"She stayed there until she was well enough to travel, she was reassigned to Paris where she was given several different identities which we had no access to for her security." He goes on.

"She's alive?" Penelope asked.

"But we buried her..." Reid says hurt.

I had buried my mother

I had buried my mother

Yet she had walked into the room with a smile on her face as if these seven months had never existed, I had buried my mother for nothing. These seven months had been a lie, all the words JJ and Aaron said had been lies all those tender hugs and kisses were full of guilt.

I couldn’t help but leave quickly as mum made her way around the team giving out hugs unaware she had watched me go. I couldn’t be there, I couldn’t be in that room not with everyone so happy to have her back, I grieved my mother.

I mourned someone who wasn’t dead

Maybe it was selfish of me but I left the team that day, finally moved my things out of my mothers apartment now that she was back. I ignored her calls so angry she could do such a thing the same went with Aaron and JJ, how could they? my mother?.

The team had called me often saying how my mother had been crying, her sobs begging for me and maybe in some sick way she knew just how I had felt.

I laid with my head in Penelopes lap as I sobbed, her soothing hands running through my hair “I know it’s hard right now Y/n but maybe it would be a good thing if you started talking to her again”.

“I’m just so scared Pen”

“And thats okay baby cakes”

It wouldn’t be another two weeks before I worked up the courage to talk to her, Rossi was hosting a part while I had arrived with the blonde. Mum made her way beside me “I’m proud of you Y/n” she slowly placed a hand on my shoulder.

She took a deep breath in tears already staining her waterline “and I’m sorry, if I could’ve taken you with me I would’ve but Aaron had said no. I asked them everyday about you and I’m sorry I couldn’t be here I’m sorry, I put my little girl through all this pain”

She moved her hands to cup my face “my baby girl, and when you graduated Uni. I made sure Aaron got me a clip of you. I never once stopped thinking about you, Mon cher I love you”

“And I am so so proud of you” the warmth of her lips pressed against my forehead cemented she was real “I’m sorry mama” I cried. “I was just so angry, I didn’t mean to make you cry” she pulled me into her chest rocking us gently side by side.

After a while she chuckle causing me to look up confused “you and Garcia?” She smirked with a raised brow

[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.

[isagrimorie]

Criminal Minds Evolution 17x05 - Conspiracy vs Theory

"Ever since I was arrested, I have sold out every value I've held dear. And when you do that, it gets harder and harder to tell the difference between a 'conspiracy' and a conspiracy theory."

[the-guilty-writer]

The Faces of Emily Prentiss

Request from anon: Could I request Emily Prentiss & teen!daughter? Maybe Emily doesn’t notice how her daughter pulls back and keeps to herself more and more because she struggles with her mom being gone so much recently and school being a lot for her (procrastination, problems concentrating when worrying about her mom, …). You can do with this whatever you like Gill, I’m just excited to read more of yours 🥰

Emily Prentiss x daughter!reader (can be read as teen!reader)

Summary: reader’s grades have been slipping and it brings up many feelings between them and Emily.

A/N: Okay, wow, I did not expect for this fic to come out this long. Maybe I should write more mom!Emily because apparently it’s inspiring. Kinda angsty with a fluffy-ish ending. There were no places to put in pronouns, so even though it’s daughter!reader it can be read as teen!reader.

CW: brief mention of psych evaluation, Emily is an absent mother, one mention that Emily wears weapons, nickname for reader is “kiddo” (if you think you know why let me know and I’ll give you a pat on the back for the right answer), reader has hair but length is not specified.

---

Manila, in your opinion, was the worst color. Not because of the color itself, but because of the things adorned with it - walls poorly painted by landlords, rags that should have been thrown out years ago, the hair of the snooty girls at school, the tug-of-war rope used in gym class that always burned your hands.

Folders.

If you could have tossed the one your teacher gave to you into the trash, you probably would have. I might as well, you thought to yourself. The thing was destined to get lost in the pile of similar ones on your mother’s desk. Would you rather go to a landfill, or sit with a bunch of cases on serial killers?

The folder, expectantly, didn’t respond. If it did, you would have been worried for your sanity. Then the next folder that landed on Emily Prentiss’s desk would have been a concerning psychiatric evaluation instead of your report card. At least with the evaluation she might have to pay a little more attention to you.

The door to your mother’s home office was always open. She locked you away from too many parts of her already - and even though she was well aware that some of the information in that room was supposed to stay classified - the idea of locking you out of a room that was in your own home, was too physical for her to bear. Not that she would ever tell you.

You knocked on the wood softly, though you didn’t know why. She wasn’t home. She was never home anymore; knocking was just a polite habit. You put your hand to the knob and swung open the door, then found yourself disappointed when she wasn’t asleep at her desk. Knocking wasn’t a polite habit; it was a hope that, for once, she would be there to answer. A hope that was far out of reach.

You put the report card folder on top of the stack, becoming just another document that had to be marked with the initials E.P. before it could be filed away.

In a house this big, the quiet should have been eerie, but it wasn’t. The quiet was normal. You sat down at the kitchen table and pulled out your phone, opening to your messages with your mom.

Badass Maman:

Hey, kiddo. Leaving for an emergency case. Be back soon. (Received 2 days ago)

You:

Okay. I love you. (Delivered 2 days ago)

Yep. Normal.

It was still that way an hour later when you did your homework, and when the nanny came to check on you. It was that way when you went to bed that night and woke up the next morning. Everything about it was normal.

You wished it wasn’t.

---

Phones weren’t allowed in classrooms, but they were allowed in the hallways. A familiar ding went off as you walked with your friend to second period math. Your friend pulled their phone from their pocket and frowned.

“Did something happen?” you asked.

They shook their head. “No notification.”

You pulled your phone out, and the world stopped entirely when you saw it was a message from your mom.

Badass Maman:

Flying home now. I’ll be back when you get home from school. I love you. (Received Now)

Relief flooded over you.

“Did something happen?” your friend asked.

“My mom is on her way home.” For the first time in days, you felt air could fill the entirety of your lungs. The million-mile-an-hour heart that was beating in your chest slowed to a regular pace. The tension in your too-tight shoulders loosened.

You:

Okay. I love you too. (Read Now)

---

You had all but forgotten about the manila folder holding your report card. It hadn’t crossed your mind since you placed it on your mother’s desk. You hadn’t bothered to look inside when you received it, too focused on the cursed cover to think about the letters inside.

When you unlocked the front door and stepped inside, you called out immediately for her. “Mom! I’m home!” but there was no answer. “Mom?”

It wasn’t unusual for her to fall asleep on the couch, waiting for you to get home from school after being sleep deprived for days. Still, the living room couch was void of any life. You turned to the kitchen, but found nobody there. So you made the walk to the only other place your mother might go in the house after a case: her office.

The door was half-way open, but still, you knocked. A polite habit.

She turned from her seat at her desk, took in the sight of you, and smiled. Within seconds you were wrapped in her arms. Your head landed on her shoulder, while she ran a gentle hand through your hair.

“God, I missed you, kiddo,” she said. The exhaustion in her voice contradicted the strength of her embrace.

“I missed you too, mom,” you whispered. She held you for a little longer than normal, and when she did let go, you couldn’t help but profile her a little.

There were three different faces Emily Prentiss wore:

The Agent Face: a raven-haired, modern fem fatale that runs off enough coffee to kill a small horse, she walks through bloody crime scenes unfazed. She’s a no-nonsense attitude dressed in heeled boots and a glock. With intelligence sharper than a blade and a smart-mouth to match, it’s only fitting that she works for one of the most elite units of the FBI.

The Emily Face: always classy with a little bit of fun sprinkled in. She’s got a wicked sense of humor, a brilliant laugh, and a bright smile to match. The kind of friend who is down for a night on the town or a quiet movie night. This, you know, is the face she wears outside of work, around her friends; you can only imagine what this face looked like before the agency, and before you.

The Mom Face: the one you see the most. It’s the face that can’t cook to save her life, though she tries very hard. The one that celebrates your ups and supports you in your downs. She’s started to find a few more gray hairs as you've grown older, but that’s to be expected from a strong woman raising a child alone. The only one of the faces that’s unsure about if she’s good enough; everything in you wants to tell her she is.

The face she wore right now, seemed to be a combination of all three. She hadn’t been home long enough to have changed from her work attire into a normal tee shirt and jeans. You could see the traces of mascara on her shoulder where either Penelope or JJ had needed a friend’s shoulder to cry on. The unsteadiness that crossed her expression only ever appeared when it came to parenting… when it came to you.

“There were kids, weren’t there?” you said. And though her past was full of secrets, she didn’t bother keeping this one in.

“There were,” she sighed. Once again, she brought her hand to your hair, as if she were trying to sooth herself with the texture of it while making sure that you were real. “But it’s over now.”

You didn’t know if that meant the case ended good or bad, and you were thankful that you weren’t a good enough profiler (yet) to read the answer in her expression. “I’m gonna finish up some work and then we can catch up, okay?”

You nodded. “Yeah. I’ll go do my homework.”

She pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead and you gave her a tight-lipped smile before she moved back to her desk and you moved towards the door.

“Open or closed?” you asked her, standing in the threshold.

“You can leave it open,” she replied.

It was her answer every time, but you still always asked. A polite habit.

---

Two hours later, you were still struggling through your math homework at the kitchen table and your mom was still in her office. Knuckles tightened around your pencil before you let it go with an exasperated sigh and crumbled up the loose leaf paper you were working on. You sifted through your notes, trying to find the formula, but you had either written it down incorrectly or not at all.

You pulled the textbook from your bag only to find that you’d forgotten to write down what section the class was studying. With your brain feeling fried inside your head, it made skimming through the chapter more difficult, and by the time you’d gotten to the end, you were no closer to figuring out the answer than when you started.

Fueled by frustration, a trail of French expletives left your mouth.

“Well, I’m glad you’re at least keeping up with your language studies.” You looked up to see your mom standing on the threshold of the kitchen.

Even in duck-print pajama pants, she still looked intimidating, leaning on one hip with her arms crossed over her chest. As soon as you noticed her stance, she began walking towards you, uncrossing her arms. In one of her hands was a dreaded manila folder. With the ease that only a master interrogator could have, she sat down at the table and pushed the folder towards you, opening it so you could see the grades inside.

You were sure the many files on her desk showed far more hellish images than your grades, but it even caught you off-guard to see that you were failing or close to failing every class. It dawned on you suddenly that your grades had been slipping, but you didn’t imagine that they had gone down so fast.

“I-” you started, but the shock was flooding you. Emily took the folder and closed it, pulling it out of your line of sight and snapping you back to reality. Your genuine reaction must have been enough to tell her that you were as unaware of the situation as she was.

“Kiddo,” she sighed. “What happened?”

Her voice and features softened - The Concerned Mother Face. It wasn’t one that appeared a lot… just when big things happened, like moving to a new country or faking both your deaths. That kind of stuff.

You shrugged helplessly. “I don’t know. This year has been…” With a shaky breath everything rose to the surface. “It’s hard to do things when I’m never sure if you’re dead or alive.”

A new face of Emily Prentiss formed in front of your tear-filled eyes. This one was vastly different from the others. It was exhausted from sleepless nights in random police stations across the country, when all she wanted was to be home; it was pain-filled from every wound she wore on her body that she insisted she didn’t need help cleaning; and it was that of a mother who had just brought home a newborn, with no clue as to how she was supposed to raise an innocent being into a human.

She said no words, only embraced you. After the familiar comfort of her arms calmed you, you went to pull away. She didn’t let you go. A spot on your shoulder had become wet with her tears. You held her tighter, and when a sob racked through her weary body, you hummed the tune of the ballad she used to sing you as a little girl.

Only when she began to sing the words of the song, you knew it would be okay. Only then, you could be sure that Emily Prentiss - the smartest, strongest, bravest person you had ever known - wouldn’t fall apart if you let go.

In French just as smooth as her English, she began to whisper the rhyme. A dozen times you had wondered why that was the primary tongue she chose to raise you with. You were passable in Spanish and Arabic, but it was the language of love that your mother had wanted you to speak fluently.

That reason was good enough.

The song came to an end and she pulled away to look at you, caressing your cheek with a gentle hand. “I’m sorry,” she said.

You shook your head. “You don’t have anything to be sorry about, mom. You save people.”

Emily sighed. “But I can do better letting you know that I’m safe. I can at least find time to make sure to answer your texts.” You looked down, feeling the slightest bit guilty. But your mom wasn’t a profiler for nothing. “Don’t you do that,” she said sternly - The Agent Face.

“But-”

“No buts. It’s you and me. It’s always been you and me.” A sneaky smile escaped from her lips. “Plus I promised myself I wouldn’t be like your grandmother and put my job in front of my children.”

That had the both of you giggling - The Emily Face.

She pulled you back into her arms, stroking a gentle hand through your hair. “I love you, kiddo.” - The Mother Face.

“I love you too, mom.”

[veeluvss]

we'll get them

>1k

emily prentiss x daughter!reader

tw : nudes and sexual abuse

i pulled up outside the bau, feeling sick. garcia was in here and i was praying she could help me. i hadn't been able to show my face at school for months and mum had no idea. i couldn't tell her. i couldn't dare - what would she think of me? would she call me a whore? a slag? like the rest of them. i knew my mum was usually understanding but at the same time, this was serious.

i left the elevator with my visitor badge on and tried to stay out of sight. i knew mum was on a case and not in town but i didn't know about anyone else. i was well known at the bau, people loved me but i didn't want to be recognised now. i felt ashamed looking at my reflection.

i knocked on the door to garcia's computers and heard her little chime from inside 'two seconds my love'. she didn't know who it was but she called everyone the sweetest names. she just radiated love and positivity, i could already feel myself feeling better. to my shock, jj opened the door. "y/n!" she cheered, smiling widely. "y/n?" garcia said, spinning on her chair. "emily's on a case, did she not tell you?" jj said, concerned. "oh erm," i muttered and lowered my head. "i came to see garcia." "oh come in sweet cheeks!" garcia said, standing up and welcoming me in. "do you want me to leave you to it?" jj asked sweetly but something compelled me to shake my head. i needed her support too. "sit down baby, are you okay?" garcia asked. i felt sick. "i can't tell you so i'm going to show you," i mumbled. "okay," garcia said. i tapped away on my phone til i found the twitter post. i handed it to garcia and she looked at it. jj peering over her shoulder. "oh sugar plum," garcia mumbled. "does emily know?" jj asked me, sadness in her voice. i shook my head rapidly. "please don't tell her!" "y/n," jj sighed. she crouched down beside me and i felt tears welling up in my eyes. "babe, this was posted over a month ago, why didn't you come to me sooner?" "i couldn't leave my house." i buried my head in my hands and jj held me.

"i didn't take them," i whispered. "you didn't?" jj asked, putting some hair behind my ear. penelope was already looking at how to get rid of them, although it was hard. she was going to find the origin at least because then we know who posted them. "some guy," i began explaining. "we got drunk one night when mum was away and he - he forced me too. he used a polaroid and , and his phone but i didn't know he used his phone." "that's okay," jj muttered, stroking my hair. "right, i've got the person who posted it," garcia said. "however, it is one of them cases where it's on the internet and anyone can have them - especially after a month." i nodded, understanding. when she showed me the guy who posted them i felt even more violated as i didn't even know him. "baby, can we ring emily?" jj asked. "no! no you can't!" "she'll understand, she really will." "no, she can't see them." "she doesn't have to see them, we'll just be able to arrest him and get him put away for it. we can also get talking to the people who shared it." i began to cry. i wanted my mum, so bad. i just began to nod. jj and garcia were decent cuddles but nothing beat my mum. jj held me whilst garcia rang emily.

"what've you got for me garcia?" mum asked down the phone. "emily, are you alone?" garcia asked. "this is personal." "i don't really have time for personal-..." she began. "it's about your daughter so yes you do," penelope said. i smiled at that. we heard mum mumble a quick 'excuse me' to whoever she was with. "what's happened?" her voice was panicked. "JJ and i got a little unprompted visit from your baby today," garcia began. i hugged jj and she pulled me closer to her. "is she okay?" emily asked. "emily you can't judge, she's already hurt enough by it and she just needs her mum. okay?" "garcia, what is going on?" "someone posted pictures of her online, erm, not clothed." i hid in jj, not wanting to hear her response. there was silence for a minute. "do you know who?" she asked. "i tracked down the ip address." "does she know them?" garcia looked at me and i shook my head. "she does not." "i'm coming home," she hung up then. i couldn't tell if she was mad or upset or angry or disappointed. i felt sick. i just clung to jj, hoping she'd understand.

a few hours later, mum charged into garcia's office. i was sat on one of the desks, coffee in my hand and apple in the other. i gulped seeing her. she looked at me, between garcia and jj. "i need to see them." she said, holding out her hand. "no!" i said suddenly, getting down. "no mum, please." i begged. "y/n i need to see what they did to you." "emily," jj whispered as i shook my head over and over. "we've seen them. you don't need to see." "it's nothing i haven't seen before for christ sake!" she groaned, throwing up her hands. i began to cry then, she was angry. so so angry with me. "it's not the same em and you know it." jj said, putting a supportive hand on my back. "we have the IP address and we know who posted them online. we just need your orders to send someone to the house and get him arrested." "get him arrested and sent down. and anyone else who distributed it. no one is getting away with this," she said. i looked at her between my fingers and saw her expression soften at the sight of me. she sighed before pulling me into her arms.

"we'll get them," she said. "mum i'm sorry," i cried. "sorry? why on earth are you sorry?" she asked me, genuinely surprised. "i didn't know he was taking them, i didn't know they'd be posted. i dragged you away from a case," i explained, clinging to her blazer. "sweetheart," she whispered, caressing my hair. "this isn't your fault. at all." she pushed me away slightly and put her fingers under my chin so i looked at her. "i'm not mad or disappointed at you. baby i love you and i'd never judge you." she whispered and my heart swelled with love. "i'm just really fucking mad at the people who hurt my baby." i chuckled a little and she pulled me back into my arms. "what did i tell you eh," jj said, rubbing my back. i only nodded, clinging to my mum. i'd needed this. i'd needed her.

[rainynvght]

Matching Scarfs

Emily and her daughter love to wear matching scarfs on a cozy late autumn day

fluff, fluff, and a little more fluff

emily prentiss x daughter

It was one of those crisp, bright mornings that hinted at the first whispers of winter. The kind of day that made your breath puff out in little clouds and the air taste sharp and fresh. Emily Prentiss stood by the window, a soft smile playing on her lips as she watched the world outside. The leaves were starting to fall, drifting lazily from the trees.

She turned her gaze to the kitchen, where her daughter was perched on a stool, swinging her tiny legs and humming a little tune. Her dark hair was tousled from sleep, and her cheeks were still rosy with warmth from the cozy bed she’d just left. Emily’s heart swelled with love as she watched her little girl, her own mini-me in so many ways.

“Darling?,” Emily called softly, using the nickname she’d given her daughter when she was just a baby. “How about we wear our special scarves today?”

The little girl’s eyes lit up immediately, her hum turning into a squeal of delight. “Matchin’ scarves?” she asked, already knowing the answer but wanting to hear it just the same.

“Of course,” Emily replied, crossing the room to kneel beside her, stroking a soft hand across her daughter's face. “It’s the perfect day for it, don’t you think?”

She nodded vigorously, her excitement bubbling over as she hopped down from the stool. “Matchin’ scarves with mommy!”, she sang happily, swaying her little head from side to side.

Emily was sure her heart would explode at the adorable sight. 

Together, they made their way to Emily’s bedroom, where she opened the drawer that held their matching scarves—soft, warm wool in a rich shade of purple, with little embroidered flowers along the edges. Emily had bought them on a whim last winter, the first time her daughter had insisted on wanting to “dress just like Mommy.”

Now, it had become their little tradition. Whenever the weather was just right, or when they felt like adding a bit of extra fun to their day, they’d wrap themselves in these scarves and step out into the world as twinning buddies.

Emily carefully draped the scarf around Lily’s neck, making sure the embroidered flowers were perfectly aligned. Lily watched her mother intently, trying to imitate the way she looped the scarf around her own neck. Once they were both wrapped up and cozy, Emily stood back and admired their handiwork.

“Perfect,” she declared, holding out her hand. “Ready?” 

“Ready, mommy!” The tiny girl declared, her curly hair bouncing around as she nodded her head. She slipped her hand into her mother’s. 

They stepped out into the cool morning air, their matching scarves fluttering slightly in the breeze. As they walked down the street, Emily noticed the smiles they got from passersby—people noticing the mother and daughter dressed alike.

The mother-daughter duo had a wonderful day together—stopping by their favorite café for hot chocolate, wandering through the park to collect the prettiest fallen leaves, and even a quick visit to the bookstore where they picked out a new story for bedtime. 

As the day wound down and the sun began to dip below the horizon, casting long shadows across the pavement, they made their way home, tired and content. They were still wrapped in their matching scarves, her daughter’s scarf now slightly dusted with crumbs from the cookies they’d shared earlier. 

Back at home, as they settled in for a quiet evening, Emily couldn’t help but feel a deep sense of contentment. It wasn’t just the matching scarves, or the cozy day they’d spent together—it was the simple fact of being there, side by side, sharing these small but precious moments. Moments that, she knew, would stay with both of them long after the scarves were outgrown and the seasons had changed.

“Mommy,” her little girl said, her voice soft and sleepy as she snuggled into Emily’s side on her bed. They had just started to read their new bedtime story together. “Can we wear our scarves again tomorrow?”

Emily smiled, kissing the top of her daughter’s head. “Of course, darling. We can wear them whenever you like.”

And with that, she drifted off to sleep, her little hand still holding onto her scarf. Her favorite scarf of all time.

[illdowhatiwantthanks]

Hi, honey! Could you please write something about Emily Prentiss having a teenage daughter who sh’s and Em finds out? I know you wrote something similar and it’s perfectly okay if you feel like this is too repetitive <3 Ps; you’re so incredible and I aspire to be able to write like you do!! <3

Here you go, Anon! It's true, I've had a lot of SH-related requests recently, but I really don't mind the repetition. If it's something people want more of, and it helps them feel safe and heard and loved, I'm happy to write it. ❤️ (and thank you so much I'm so flattered! <3)

Tiny

Emily Prentiss x daughter!reader Warnings: self-harm, discussion of self-harm and self-harm tools, mental illness, internalized homophobia, explicit language (please let me know if I've missed anything!) Word count: 1.8k

Summary: After your best friend moves away, you start to struggle with depression, loneliness, and self-harm. You do a pretty good job of hiding it for a while but your mom is a profiler after all.

You’d been so good, so good, at hiding it. Long sleeves. Bracelets. You kept the tiny, sharp travel scissors in your locker at school, disguised in a bag with fabric and buttons and needles. A sewing project, you always said if anyone asked. But no one asked.

The truth of the matter was that you didn’t have many friends. And Sophia, your best friend since second grade, had moved to Denver last year for her dad’s job. You’d sworn to keep in touch, sworn that you’d stay best friends no matter what. And you’d tried, you’d really tried. But the daily texts had turned into weekly texts. The every-other-night FaceTime calls became every-other-month. And every time you talked to her, it seemed like her life was better than ever. She had new friends. A new soccer team. Even a boyfriend. It seemed like every time you called her, she was with him.

It hurt when you realized that Sophia liked spending time with her new boyfriend more than spending time with you. But it had hurt even more to examine your own jealousy, your own inexplicable rage at her moving on, making new friends, having new experiences. The reality–that you liked Sophia as more than a friend–hit you like a gut punch. And you didn’t know who to talk to about it. Normally, you’d talk to Sophia. But you couldn’t talk to her about this. Honestly, you weren’t even sure you were good enough friends to talk about boys or girls or whoever anymore. She’d drifted away and left you behind.

You thought about talking to your mom–she’d dated girls. But she was so busy with work, so stressed. She tried really hard not to let on when she was home, but you could see how tired she was, how she nodded blankly when you told her about your day, her mind elsewhere. No doubt with the hundreds of psychopaths and murderers she investigated every day.

You didn’t know who you were or what you were. You just knew that you were lonely and hurt and so deeply confused. There were other LGBTQ+ kids at school, but they’d all been out since middle school. They had that unbreakable comradery that queer kids who flock together often have. And you’d missed it.

All the confusion, all the hurt, all the feelings, roiled inside you until there was no place for it to go except out. The first time you’d drawn the scissors across your forearm, the blood had surprised you, as had the brief moment where there was blood but no pain. But when the pain did hit, it felt like a balloon had popped, like something that had been growing and growing and pressing in on you had shrunk back down to a manageable size.

Of course, the shame followed. Of course, you felt terrible, guilty, ashamed, sick to your stomach. Of course, you cried when you thought about what your mom would say if she saw it, what Sophia would say. But even worse, you knew they’d ask why. And you were terrified to talk about why. So you put on your long sleeves. You started wearing bracelets. And you hoped that no one would notice.

But that night, after a quick dinner of takeout pizza and Caesar salad, your mom had asked you to wash up and, without thinking, you’d rolled up your sleeves to do the dishes.

“Oh my god!” your mom exclaimed, rushing to your side. “What happened to your arm!?”

It was so stupid. You’d been so careful. You’d kept this a secret for months and now, with just one fuck-up, you’d ruined it.

“Nothing!” you cried, squirming out of her grip. “I just… I scratched myself, that’s all.”

But your mom wasn’t stupid. She spoke six languages. She headed an FBI unit. She was the smartest person you knew. She profiled people for a living. And she could tell when you were lying.

“Y/N!” she chastised, grabbing onto your arms hard. She'd also trained in hand-to-hand combat so you were really no match for her.

She turned your wrists around so she could see the inside of your arms, and the look on her face nearly broke you. It was sadness, it was guilt, it was shock and disbelief and worry, so much worry. You stared at the ceiling, willing yourself not to cry, mouth clamped shut.

“Y/N,” she said, quieter, running a gentle thumb along your forearms. “Tiny, look at me.” A tear dripped down your cheek. She didn’t call you Tiny much these days. And you always rolled your eyes when she did. It was what she’d called you when you were little. I love you, Tiny. You're so strong, Tiny! You can do it! Everything’s gonna be okay, Tiny.

You sniffed and lowered your head to look at her, more tears falling. You saw that your mom had tears in her eyes, too, and it made you feel awful.

“How long have you been hurting yourself?” she asked, her voice calm and gentle, full of emotion.

“I don’t know,” you mumbled, sniffling. “Maybe like… six months?”

She let out a shaky sigh and nodded. “Okay,” she said, more to herself than to you. “Okay.” After a moment, she drew you into her, and you pressed your face into her chest, finally letting yourself cry.

“It’s okay, honey,” she cooed, smoothing your hair as she hugged you. “It’s gonna be okay.”

When your sobs had calmed to hiccups, you emerged, face red and blotchy. Your mom wiped your face with her hands and motioned to the kitchen table. “This might be hard for you,” she started, looking at you earnestly. “But we need to talk about it. Go ahead and sit down. I’m gonna make us some tea.”

You took deep, soothing breaths as your mom set a steeping cup of chamomile in front of you, holding her own close to her chest.

“Are you mad at me?” you whispered, scared of the conversation to come.

“No, baby,” she assured you, squeezing your hand. “I’m not mad. I’m worried about you, that’s all.”

You nodded.

“Now, first things first,” she began, and you winced, sure she was going to take something away from you or ground you or something. “Do you know how to properly clean and dress a cut like that?”

You blinked in surprise. “Uh…” You were floundering. This is not where you expected this conversation to go. “I mean, I put band-aids on them.”

“Yeah, no,” your mom said, taking out her phone and making a note. “We’re gonna get you some alcohol sterilizer. Let’s see… Neosporin, gauze bandages. Probably butterfly bandages too, just in case. And whatever it is that you’re using for… this… you need to be sanitizing it before you use it.”

Your jaw dropped and you stared at her. “You don’t… want me to stop?”

She clicked the phone shut and stared purposefully at you. “Oh, no. Hear me loud and clear. I absolutely want you to stop. But… from what I know about self-harm, it’s a process. It might take some time. You might have relapses. And I just want you to be as safe as you can in recovery.”

“Thanks, Mom,” you said quietly, surprised at her response. You hadn’t really thought about being safe while cutting. Since cutting itself wasn’t exactly safe. Trust your mom to always be looking for ways to take care of you.

Your mom pursed her lips for a moment, as if thinking about how to proceed. And, once again, you were terrified that she was going to make you feel worse somehow, even if she didn’t mean to.

“It’s okay,” she stuttered, breathing out heavily, “if you don’t want to talk to me about what’s making you want to do this, but you need to talk to somebody. So tomorrow I’m gonna make some phone calls and we’re gonna find a therapist. And if your therapist recommends it, we might need to find you a psychiatric facility for a little bit.”

Ice-cold panic flooded your veins. “No, Mom, please!” 

“Hey, hey,” she said, grabbing your hands. “It is not a punishment. There is nothing wrong or shameful about your brain needing some help, okay? Even if it’s scary, we’re gonna do what we need to do to help you get better. Yes?”

You exhaled and nodded.

“Okay. So that’s what we’re gonna do.”

You were both silent for a moment, sipping your tea. You wished you could tell what your mom was thinking. You wished you could tell her what you were thinking. You so desperately wanted to tell someone. And you were scared. Scared that your mom would never look at you the same again. Scared that you’d never again be that same little girl, her Tiny. There was too much wrong with you.

You sniffled as your eyes filled with tears again. “Mom?” you squeaked.

“Yeah, honey?”

You asked what you were most afraid to ask. “Do you still love me?”

“Oh, baby,” she said, scooting her chair toward you and wrapping you in her arms. “Of course I do. I love you so much. I’ll always love you. You’re my little girl, you’re my Tiny.”

Your shoulders shook as you wept. “I just feel…” you cried. “I just feel like no one really loves me.”

“That’s just not true,” your mom said, rubbing your back. “I love you. All your aunts and uncles at the BAU love you. What about Sophia? She loves you.”

You cried even harder. “No, she doesn’t, Mom.”

Your mom brushed your hair away from her face. “What are you talking about? You talk all the time.”

And when you finally said it, it felt like a weight off your shoulders, like you’d been carrying a mountain for months and someone had finally lifted it away. You shook as you spoke. “She doesn’t love me like I love her.”

Understanding flooded your mom’s face. She nodded, and you could tell by the look on her face, by the empathy in her eyes, by the way she squeezed your hand and cupped your face and pursed her lips that she knew. She knew what it was like. She knew the confusion and the hurt and the self-hatred. She knew it all.

And it was almost better that she didn’t say anything. Anything at all. She just looked at you and understood. She just brushed your tears away with her thumb and let you finish crying. And when your sobs subsided, she held your hand. And she kept holding it. And after a while, she brushed your hair out of your face and said, “Everything’s gonna be okay, Tiny. I promise.”

And you knew–because she was your mom, because she was her, because she loved you and you loved her–that it would be.