#emily prentiss fanficiton

[sequinsmile-x]

hi! i have a prompt.. i don’t know if you’ve done this before but i kind of just thought of it and would love to see your version of this! idk if you just take random requests but here it is!

emily loses her wedding rings and she’s frantically searching and aaron finds her a mess on the bathroom floor and a sob breaks out when he asks her what’s wrong and he’s all patient and calm and it makes her more upset. but he gets her to stop crying and she calms down and he helps her tear the entire house apart. it’s only when the finally put jack to bed at night that they find them under his pillow! (idk how it got there—i think you could work that out)

hiiii friend!!

I love this prompt, and it immediately made my brain itch. It turned out a little differently than what you laid out, but I hope you enjoy it anyway <3

-x-

Threads of Gold

She puts the ring back onto its chain, and slips it over her head before tucking it back into her shirt. She presses the cool metal against her skin and closes her eyes, blowing out a shaky breath from lungs that felt stuffed with grief. 

She wasn’t Emily Prentiss here. 

Emily Prentiss was dead. 

-x-

Words: 2.9k

Warnings: big feels, occasional cursing.

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

It was the silence that she hated the most. 

The apartment she refused to call home was non-descript, the same as a thousand others in Paris. It had all the noise you would expect living in a big city. Neighbours who seemed to care very little for their possessions or the people around them. Mass-produced appliances that made noises that seemed to run like clockwork, the buzz of the refrigerator and the clunk of the air conditioning unit. The laughter of tourists as they walked the streets, happy and full of joy as they discovered the city of love. 

Everything surrounding her apartment was full of noise, of life. The very thing that had been torn from under her feet, everything slipping away so quickly. 

She was used to hearing Aaron walk around their house. His familiar footsteps part of the soundtrack of her life, a promise that he was never too far away. Jack seemed to be surrounded by noise, whether it was his laughter or one of his toys. He was only ever quiet in sleep, although even that would sometimes be interrupted by him walking suddenly in tears, memories of what happened to his mother warped even further by his subconscious, forcing him to seek out solace in her and Aaron’s bed. Safely tucked between the two of them. 

They had just managed to start their lives again, joy the overriding emotion in their home for the first time in a long time, when she got the call that Doyle had escaped. Everything turned back on its head, another thing they had to overcome. 

Only this time, they’d lost. 

She knew if she had to do it again she’d change nothing. She wouldn’t involve Aaron, wouldn’t have brought him into the situation she’d found herself in. The one secret she had never shared. 

She had vague memories of him visiting her in the hospital, dressed in all black from her funeral, his hand wrapped around hers as they both apologised for things neither of them could, or would, change. She’d saved his life by lying to him, by repeatedly saying everything was fine even though it clearly wasn’t. 

He’d saved her life by taking it away. 

Emily sighs as she pulls the door closed behind herself, and she checks the lock twice, a habit she had picked up from Aaron, before she moves further into the apartment. She places her bag of groceries on the kitchen counter, abandoning it for now, and walks the short distance to the couch. She sits down and tries to get her breath back. She was still recovering from what Ian had done to her, and even the smallest of tasks made her exhausted, her body pushed to its limit by something as simple as walking to the small store at the end of her street to buy some essentials. 

Her hands automatically reach for the long chain around her neck and she pulls it loose from her shirt, pulling it off completely before she goes for the catch, opening it so she can take the ring off of it. 

She holds the engagement ring in between her thumb and index finger, watching as she turns it, the low lighting in her apartment catching the diamond and making it sparkle. A flash of light across the dark night sky her life had become. 

She could wear it here, she knew that. There would be no harm, or risk, to her identity by wearing an engagement ring that she carried everywhere with her anyway. But it felt wrong, something making her pause every time she considered slipping it onto her finger, the joy she’d felt when Aaron asked her to marry him burning in her chest, yet another thing in her life that was once good turned to ash. 

She sighs, puts the ring back onto its chain, and slips it over her head before tucking it back into her shirt. She presses the cool metal against her skin and closes her eyes, blowing out a shaky breath from lungs that felt stuffed with grief. 

She wasn’t Emily Prentiss here. 

Emily Prentiss was dead. 

___

They get married almost as soon as she gets home from Paris. Their wedding day a quick and desperate thing, an attempt to hold on to each other. To prove that everything would be ok. Their love for each other, and for Jack, never in doubt even in the hardest of moments. 

It takes a while. She’s a little too keen for her independence and Aaron a little too protective after losing her, but after everything, she thinks they are happier now than they were before. The joy in their day-to-day lives deeper, something that felt all the more precious. They’d made it. They’d survived. 

And now they were living. 

She smiles at the sound of Jack laughing from the living room, his video game on in the background as he plays. She finishes rinsing out the wine glasses from dinner and places them on the draining board before she drains the sink, wiping her hands on a towel. The sound flowing from the living room comes to a stop and it’s quickly followed by Jack’s footfall, the noise dulled slightly by his socks. She turns just in time to see him in the doorway, a curious look on his face. 

“Where’s Dad?” 

She leans against the counter as she smalls at him, “He’s in his office, he had some work to finish whilst I did the dishes.” 

“You do the dishes because Dad cooks!” Jack says, repeating back the words they’d told him more than once. 

She hums and nods, “Exactly, although one day I might cook just so he has to do them instead,” she laughs as a horrified expression crosses the young boy's face, and she walks over to him, pulling him into a hug he gladly accepts, “Ok, I won’t cook.” 

He sighs in relief and leans against her, and she holds him tighter, taking a moment to appreciate that she had this again. She hears her phone chime from the dining room and pulls back to smile down at Jack, ruffling his hair before she steps away from him.

“You go get ready for bed, ok?” She says before she kisses his forehead, “It’s your dad’s turn to tuck you in tonight.” 

“Love you, Emily!” Jack says and it makes her heart swell, her smile so wide her cheeks ache. 

“I love you too,” she replies. She hears her phone chime again and she heads to the dining room to pick it up. There are two text messages from Penelope on the screen. 

Girl's night soon?

Sorry if I interrupted you and the boss doing some baby-making. 

Emily shakes her head, “I’ve really got to stop telling her everything.” 

She replies as she types out a response, ignoring the second text completely as she confirms her availability for a girl's night. Her friend's mention of her and Aaron’s plans to expand their family makes a mixture of anxiety and joy bubble in her stomach. Hope followed her around like a shadow these days, on the edge of everything she did, lingering in every corner as her future was laid out in two distinct paths. 

One where they had more children, expanded their family and had the life both she and Aaron had always wanted but had been denied. The other where they didn’t. Where this didn’t happen for them for one reason or another. 

She knew which one she wanted, that she’d be disappointed and heartbroken if the went the way she feared, but ultimately she knew she’d be happy with what she had in the end. 

No matter what her future looked like, Aaron and Jack were there with her, and that had her feel luckier than she ever had before. ___

She’s just finishing up her nighttime routine, running her fingers over her skin as she rubs in a moisturiser that claims to slow down ageing, when she notices. Her eyes honing in on her left hand, her ring finger bare. Her chest seizes with fear, her breath catching against her ribs as she looks at her hand, her eyes fixed on the pale band of skin where her rings usually were. 

“Fuck,” she whispers to herself, as she takes a step back, her eyes furiously scanning the bathroom counter as she desperately seeks out her rings. She pulls the products she’d used out from the spots she’d slipped them back into, showing no care for the usual order she tried to keep their home in. 

She rushes into the bedroom with the clothing hamper in her hands, tipping the dirty laundry onto Aaron’s side of the bed. She tries to ignore the shake of her hands as she riffles through the clothes, taking the time to check the pockets of the pants she’d taken off before she started to get ready for bed. 

“Fuck,” she exclaims again, more desperate this time as she runs her hands through her hair. She bites at her thumbnail as she tries to think, trying to remember when she was last wearing them. 

They had become a part of her. As soon as it was safe when she came home, when Ian was dead and her photo removed from the memorial wall, Aaron had asked about her ring. She’d shown him the necklace, the cheap chain she’d bought on her first day in Paris, and he’d smiled. Taking it off her before he tipped the ring into his palm, and slipped it back onto her finger, the same reverence and love in his eyes as he’d had the first time. It was barely two weeks later when her wedding ring had been added alongside it and she’d put his on him. The gold rings a solid symbol of their love for each other when everything else still felt so unsteady. 

They had become a part of her. 

She rushes downstairs, sure she’d had them on when she got home, and walks into the kitchen. They aren’t in the usual place she leaves them near the sink if she ever handwashes anything, and her panic deepens, the room becoming blurry as her eyes fill with tears she doesn’t expect or understand. She pulls the dishwasher door open, steam escaping around her as she interrupts the cycle. She winces as she starts to pull the dishes out, the heat of them pressing against her skin as she stacks them on the counter, any hope that she had somehow accidentally slipped them in along the plates they’d eaten their dinner from disappears as she empties it completely. The familiar shine of her rings nowhere to be found. 

She stands up straight and covers her mouth as a sob she can’t stop escapes. Grief and guilt and something she knows to be panic making her stomach churn. She’d never been a person who was too attached to material possessions. She’d moved too much when she was young for that. She remembered teasing Aaron when they moved into the house, softly calling him a hoarder because of his reluctance to let go of the simplest of furnishings. There were few things that she owned that could make her feel like this. 

A photo of her and her dad from her high school graduation. A card Jack had drawn her for mother’s day. 

Her wedding rings. 

Her engagement ring was the only part of Aaron she’d had with her in Paris, and that was only because she’d been wearing it at the time. Ian had mocked her for it, compared it to the ring he’d once given her. 

The ring had become so much more than what it initially met. It was a reminder of what she had at home, what she spent months dreaming out and hoping she’d have again.

And she couldn’t find it. 

She leans back against the counter and covers her face with her hands, crying in a way she hadn’t in a long time.

“Sweetheart, is there a reason you dumped all of our dirty laundry…” Aaron trails off as he walks into the kitchen, his joyful tone turning serious as he strides over to her, his hand on her shoulder, “Emily, baby, what's wrong?” 

He pulls her into a hug and she leans into him, her face buried against his neck as she wraps her arms around him, her hands grasping at his shirt. She tries to breathe him in, to remind herself that she has all of him now, that his love for her is more than a white gold band and a diamond that held them together across an ocean. 

Aaron holds her close, his hand running up and down her back, and he looks around the kitchen. His eyes flick over the dishes that were still wet from the dishwasher haphazardly piled on the counter, water dripping down onto the marble. He doesn’t know what’s wrong, why his wife has torn their bathroom, bedroom and apparently their kitchen apart or why whatever it has her close to hysterical. 

He places his hand on the back of her head and encourages her to tilt it back just far enough that she can look at him, her eyes red and shining with tears that were still tracking down her face. 

“What’s wrong? Are you hurt?” He asks, moving his hand to cup her cheek.

“No…I,” she chokes out, shaking her head at herself, fury at herself for not being able to control her emotions clear, “I’m sorry.” 

“For what?” He asks, remaining endlessly patient despite his concern for her and the way it burned at his insides. 

“I lost my rings,” she says, the words catching in her throat as she acknowledges it out loud for the first time, “I’m sorry I must have taken them off to wash the wine glasses and-”

“Em, sweetheart,” he cuts her off, digging his hand through his pants pocket before he opens his palm to her, her wedding rings shining in his hand, “Jack had them.” 

It feels like every part of her has frozen in place, fear replaced by confusion and relief, “What?” 

He smiles softly, “He picked them up from the counter and took them to his room,” he says, running his hand down her arm so he can hold her left hand, carefully slipping them back onto her finger, “Apparently he was planning on taking them to school for show and tell tomorrow,” he chuckles, shaking his head at his son, “We had a chat about taking things that don’t belong to us without permission.” 

She nods, staring at her hand, her heartbeat returning somewhat to normal as she looks at her rings. She breathes shakily before looking up at her husband, smiling tightly at him.

“Thank you.”

“It’s ok,” he replies, wrapping his arm around her again to pull her closer. He waits a few seconds to see if she was planning on saying anything else, if she was going to give him an insight into why she’d been so upset, but she doesn’t. “Em-”

“My engagement ring was the only part of you I had in Paris,” she explains, cutting over him as she hugs him, her cheek pressing into his shoulder, “I wore it on that necklace every day and…for a long time I thought it was all I’d ever have of you. I lost it and I panicked.” 

Aaron sighs sadly as he kisses the side of her head before he rests his chin on top of it, holding her tightly in the way he knew she needed whenever she was reminded of her time in Paris. 

“I’m right here,” he promises her, “I’ve got you.” 

She smiles and nods, pulling back so she can look up at him. She stamps a quick kiss against his lips, “I love you.” 

“I love you too,” he replies, kissing her again. “Why don’t you head up, I’ll put everything back in the dishwasher and then come up to join you.” 

She frowns, “Honey-”

“Go,” he says, cutting off her rebuttal to him re-doing her usual chore. She smiles and nods, kissing him once more before she disconnects from him to go back upstairs. 

By the time he joins her, she’s put the laundry back into the hamper and is curled up on her side of the bed. He quickly changes and does his own nightly routine before he lays behind her in the bed. He wraps his arms around her and presses his chest into her back before he links their fingers together, the cold metal of her rings making them both smile.

“Tomorrow, I’m buying you rubber gloves.”

She frowns, turning her head to look at him, not entirely sure what he means, “What?” 

“I’m buying you rubber gloves,” he repeats, kissing her cheek, “So you don’t have to take your rings off when you’re doing the dishes.” 

She beams at him, her love for him threatening to overwhelm her as she turns in his embrace, kissing him fiercely as she cups the back of his head, holding him in place. 

“I love you so fucking much,” she says, still kissing him as she talks until she’s practically laying on top of him. 

“Because I’m buying you gloves?” He asks, raising his eyebrow as he follows her lead, his hands trailing under her t-shirt.

She pulls back to smile at him, her teeth sinking into her lower lip, “Because you love me enough to understand why it’s important.” 

She kisses him again, and they lose themselves in each other, both of them trying to keep quiet, their love for each other just for them in their home. 

-x-

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[emobabeyy]

i’ve started writing a little of the idea of what if Emily was captured in 2x14 instead of Spence and I was wondering if anyone on here would be interested?

I want to examine how Emily would deal with the Dilaudid and who she would turn to for support after the fact.

[lis-likes-fics]

Not Fair

Pairing: Emily Prentiss x Reader Word Count: 6.1k words Warnings: NSFW, smut, Mommy kink, overstimulation, oral (f!receiving), strap-on, multiple orgasms, swearing... A/N: Writing a fic with a mommy kink was personally difficult bc I don't have one... So I tried my best, and I hope you like it. Emily Prentiss could do things to me that would make Aaron Hotchner blush. Happy Halloween!

When Emily's phone pings again, she clenches her fists. It's been going off practically all day. She's been busy with all this work on her desk, case files on case files, and she hasn't been able to focus because you keep texting her.

She received the first text as soon as she got to the BAU. She was talking to JJ when her phone went off and all she saw on her screen was “Miss you already”. When she opened her texts, she almost had a stroke.

It was a picture of you, your arms behind your head and your hip jutted out to the side. You've got your face cut off by the frame to give full attention to your body. Normally that wouldn't be so bad. She'd call you beautiful and promise to kiss you when she got home.

But it was hard to think such wholesome thoughts when you were naked on the screen.

“Everything okay?” JJ had asked.

Emily looked up, pulling herself harshly from her thoughts. She blinked blankly, nodding. “Uh, yeah. All good.”

JJ poorly pretends to believe her and lets her scramble to her desk. Hunched over her phone, Emily replied. “Not fair.” You just sent back a wink.

You sent her more and more throughout the day, each riskier than the last. One laying flat on your bed, the curve of your bare ass intoxicating. One of you straddling your pillow, cut off just beneath the eyes, enough to see your mouth fallen in bliss. One grasping your breasts and flicking the nipple. One spreading your legs for the camera to show how wet you are. One with your hand on the inside of your thigh, far too close for her liking.

It’s been driving her nuts, and she’s surrounded by profilers. It’s not a very good mix. She was counting down the minutes until she could get back to you and adjust your behavior.

As she looks hesitantly at her screen, she braces herself for what she’ll find. “New message: When will you come home to me, Mommy?” She runs a hand down her face, and then pales when she sees, “Video received”.

Emily stands from her desk, escaping quickly to find an empty room to lock herself in. As she opens her phone and goes through her messages, she grasps it tight while she presses play.

Her blood rushes when she sees you, your spread wide open with your fingers shoved inside of you. Your moans are high and breathless, the schlep! schlep! schlep! sounds of your pussy are making it hard to contain herself. “I couldn’t help myself, Mommy,” you whimper, staring at the camera with your face screwed up in pleasure. “I miss you so much. I need you so bad, Mommy. Please come home.”

Yeah… Safe to say, you're in trouble when she gets home.

~

When Emily steps through the front door, she makes sure to slam it a little as she closes it behind her.

“Em?” Your voice carries down the hall, followed by the soft padding of your feet. When she spots you, you're in an oversized T-shirt that you'd stolen from Derek one day. “You're home! I made dinner.”

You go in to hug her, pulling her in close with a sigh. Emily does not hug you back.

“You okay, baby?” you ask when you don't feel her arms wrap around you. You place your hand on her cheek, cupping her face with a smile.

Emily just looks at you, her face hard with frustration. “You know what you did.”

“I don't know what you mean.” You tilt your head. You're so good, she almost believes you.

“You know exactly what I mean.”

You sigh, brushing your hands down her chest. “Well, did it work?”

She stares at you. Emily has always had a very firm, very strong stare. You begin to squirm the longer she stares, and you know that you're in trouble…

“Go to bed…”

You lick your bottom lip, suppressing a grin as you dip your head. You turn on your heel, shuffling back to the room slow enough to make sure she can see your ass sticking out beneath the shirt.

Emily kicks her shoes off by the door, locking it behind her. She shrugs her jacket off on the way down the hall after you. She stops as she peers into the kitchen. You made beef stew—with it being October already, it's started to get cold outside. The smell alone is making her hungry.

When she makes it to the bedroom, you're sitting on the bed with your legs crossed. The shirt is draping off your shoulder, exposing skin to her that she wants to sink her teeth into.

Emily smiles. “You've been so alone all day, haven't you?”

You look up at her through your lashes, nodding a bit. “I missed you.”

“I could tell,” she lilts. She comes up to you, standing in front of your knees. She uses her own to knock them apart so she can stand between your thighs. You look up at her, admiring her smile and completely untrusting of it. “Missed me so much, you broke the rules.”

You knew that would get her going. You bite down on your bottom lip. “Sorry. I couldn't help it, waiting was hard.”

“No, I understand,” she nods. Her brows furrow, and she cups your cheek gently. “Waiting is hard. But I'm here, and we don't have to wait anymore. Right?”

You nod gently. “Mhm.”

Was she really not upset? She's being so sweet, and you'd expected a very different response to the pictures you sent…the video. But here she is, stroking your skin and kissing you pretty. Maybe she missed you just as much.

She bends down to your lips, and you breathe in happily when she kisses you. You keen into her touch, wrapping your arms around her waist to pull her in close. She's warm, very warm against you.

Emily doesn't break away from you as she leans in, pushing you back so you're laying against the bed. She pulls you against her, pushing you up the bed until your head is resting against the pillows. You wrap your legs around her waist, especially as she takes your wrists in her hands above your head.

“What are you doing?” you giggle, pulling you down against you.

She just shushes you, a smile on her lips as she does. You're happy to listen.

Until you hear clicking and feel the cold bite of metal against your skin. You pull away from her lips, looking up to find she's cuffed your wrist to one of the wooden poles of the bedpost.

“Em?” You reach for the cuff, tugging to no avail. “Emily, what's going on?”

She hums, standing and walking away from you. You watch as she goes to the bedside table, opening the top drawer and pulling out more cuffs. She keeps an extra pair in case of emergency (and apparently for moments like this).

She roughly grabs your other hand, still smiling, and cuffs you to the other pole. “Emily, baby, we can talk about this,” you try. She's not listening.

Emily stands, looks at you, and then leaves the room. “Emily!”

You hear her walk down the hall. When she returns, you flush at the sight of some rope in her hands. When she roughly grabs your ankle, you pull, but she's stronger than you (especially when you're in such a vulnerable position). She wraps a rope securely around your ankle, and then to another bed post. She does the same with the second rope.

Okay, yes, she's upset. You think that's safe to say by now.

Your legs are spread wide, your arms are unavailable at the moment. She's got you in the most vulnerable position you could be in. You try to close your legs, just get your thighs to touch, but there's nothing you can do. You're trapped.

Emily feasts on the sight of you. Her fingertips brush your skin as she slowly drags your shirt up just to reveal the softness of your belly to her. She presses her hand there, adoring the way the slightest gasp lifts from your chest.

She loves seeing you like this: your bare pussy glistening with arousal, your peaked nipples showing through the fabric of your shirt, the smooth skin of your thighs and belly and arms and neck and cheeks exposed to her and her only.

She gently scraped her nails beneath your chin, patting your cheek lightly. Then she turns and ventures toward the opposite end of the room.

“Okay, Emily, I'm sorry.” You're not new to being tied up, but it's not a frequent habit of Emily's to tie you up. And all the other times you've done it, she just cuffed your wrists together and bent you over with her strap. This is relatively new territory.

She doesn't respond. Emily crosses her arms over her chest, one leg over the other, and leans against the wall, looking over you with an unreadable expression.

“Why did you do it?”

You lick your bottom lip. “I missed you, and-and I was horny. I just wanted attention. I'm sorry about the pictures.”

She scoffs. “I don't care about the pictures.” She tilts her head. “You know the rules. You're only allowed to touch your little pussy with my permission. Did you ask my permission?”

“No,” you whisper. “No, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have touched myself without you. I didn't cum! I swear, I didn't cum. I couldn't, not without you.” You pull at the restraints again. It's making you hot and it's making you wet, but the feeling of not being able to move is unnerving. “Please, I'm sorry, Emily. I won't do it again, I promise. Just please let me go, and I'll fix it.”

She doesn't say anything for a moment, though you can see the tiny smirk playing on her lips. You're rambling. She's only tied you up, and you're already letting apologies pour like wine.

“Please, I'm sorry.”

She hums. “That's very nice, that you're sorry…but you've been a bad girl. Do you know what happens to bad girls, princess?”

You don't respond this time, nervous about what she has planned.

She raises a brow, inquiring further. “Hm?”

“They get punished,” you whisper, so soft that you know she can't quite hear you.

“What was that?” she questions.

You speak a little louder this time. “They get punished.”

“That’s right,” she smiles, uncrossing her arms and standing straight again. She comes near the bed, stopping at the edge. “They get punished. How should you be punished, hm?”

You don't know how to answer that. You don't want to answer that. Your throat is dry, and you tug at your wrists.

“Make me wait,” you mutter. It seems like a decent option, the best out of the available ones that you can think of. Maybe she'll keep you laying there, tied down, for a little while and then let you go. You hadn't waited, so she'll make you wait for her to touch you even longer in response. It's a good option. A safe option.

“Make you wait?” she asks, the answer seemingly absurd to her. “After all the attention you wanted, the attention you obviously needed if you were touching yourself with me. No, no, no, I don't think you should wait. You've waited enough.”

She sighs. You watch her brush some hair behind her ear before she turns to the closet. “No, I think you deserve to cum,” she announces from inside. When she comes back, she's holding two black boxes. You've seen one before, long and slender, but the other is foreign to you. Has she bought a new toy?

“In fact,” she sends you a big smile, one that disarms you in both a beautiful and frightening way, “I think you should get to cum as much as you want.”

She opens the first box, taking the pink wand in her hand. You want to rub your thighs together, but for obvious reasons…

“Emily, please…”

“Hush, princess.” She comes back to the bed, setting the wand down in the space between your legs and placing the second box on the bed. She pulls it open, but you can't really see what's inside until she pulls it out.

They're straps. Three ordinary straps. Your brows furrow as you look at them and try to figure out what is so special about them.

And then you realize it when she unbuckles the clasp and begins to wrap them around your inner thigh.

You start saying her name again, repeating it over and over again as you try to squirm away from her. You rant and ramble more apologies, more reasons why she shouldn't do this, how you can make it up to her.

Emily looks firmly at you when you squirm too much.

“If you keep moving, I'll only make it worse.”

You stop, shutting your mouth and keeping still. Her smile returns, and she continues to buckle the straps to your leg. When they're tight and in place, you whine. She picks up the wand, the one that plugs in and goes on for however long she wants it to.

Emily plugs it into the extension cord she's pulled out, slipping the vibrator into the slots in the straps, right against your clit.

“You're going to lay there, and you're going to behave. If it turns out that you're not going to be a good girl, then I've got other ways to ensure that you do. Do you understand me?” Her tone is firm. She leaves no room for debate.

“Yes,” you squeak out.

“Yes, what?”

Her voice sends shivers down your spine. “Yes, Mommy.”

She smiles once more, rounding to your side. She sets a hand on the top of your head, then bends down to kiss your forehead gently. “Good girl,” she smiles. “I knew you could be a good girl for me.” You sigh. “Now let's get this going, shall we?”

You swallow thickly, even worse when she reaches for the wand. You brace for when she turns it on, your leg jerking and doing nothing to stop the strong vibrations shooting through your body. It starts out intense already, and it's obviously worse when she still raises it a couple notches.

You gasp lightly, closing your eyes as a shudder rushes down your spine. She pets you gently, admiring the way you look when you're desperate like this. She hikes your shirt up, brushing her fingers over your peaked nipples and teasing it with the pad of her thumb.

You turn your face toward her to take in her smell. She smells like expensive perfume. It's not a strong smell, but it's a nice one that makes your head pleasantly fuzzy.

“Does that feel good?” she asks gently.

Reluctantly, you nod. “Yes, Mommy.”

“Good,” she hums. “You can come whenever you want, as many times as you want. And I'll be back to check on you.”

You pause, your brain clouded with the buzzing at your clit, but ultimately taken aback by her words. “Huh?”

“Well, I'm not going to let dinner go to waste. It smells delicious, and I'm starving.” She's already walking to the door. You squirm, but the wand never lets up. She's secured it so well that there's no way for you to twist and make it let up. “Maybe I'll have a glass of wine, read a chapter or two.”

Your brows knit together, and you beg. “No, please. I'll be so good, I promise. Please don't leave me. Mommy, please.”

She just smiles. “Make sure to count for me, or I'll have to add more time.”

She closes the door as she leaves the room. “Emily!”

~

Emily hears a loud whimper down the hall as she's portioning your helping and washing the dishes. You haven't eaten yet—you were waiting on her. She smirks, putting the food away and placing your bowl in the microwave for later.

Pouring herself a glass of wine, she makes her way back to the bedroom. She pushes the door opening.

“Hey, baby. How’re you doing?”

Your eyes are squeezed shut. There are tears running down the side of your face as your chest heaves uncontrollably. Your legs are trembling, and you squirm as the wand continues to vibrate against your sensitive clit.

“P-please,” you mutter, opening your dazed eyes. “Please, ‘m sorry. I'll be g-good, I swear.”

Emily hums. She walks further into the room, sipping her wine as she does. “What number are you at?”

It takes you a moment to respond. She watches your face scrunch, the searing overstimulation shifting back into a sensitive pleasure. Your mouth goes to form the word, but it's hard to get out as you finally mutter, “Five.”

She’d been gone a half hour, had taken her sweet time in eating. “Five,” she echoes, her brows raised. “Very good.”

She places a hand on your cheek, brushing her thumb over your skin with a smile. “Dinner was amazing, princess. Thank you for cooking.”

You'd respond if you weren't struggling to focus. She watches your back arch off the bed as you tug at your restraints—not even to get out at this point, but to move. “Please, Mommy.” Your words are sticky, like forming them is a chore on its own.

“Shh,” she pets your head gently. “I'm gonna go read. You'll be good for me, won't you?”

Another tear slips down your face, and you reluctantly nod your response. “Yes, Mommy.”

She smiles. “Good girl.”

Emily picks her book from the nightstand, taking it in her hand as she begins to leave. “Oh, almost forgot,” she pauses. She comes back to you, kissing your forehead before she's turning the intensity up even more. “There we go. I'll be back.”

You curse, turning your head into your shoulder. “Please don't l-leave me here again.” Emily pets you once more and does just that.

~

It's exceedingly difficult to focus on words on a page when all Emily can hear is the sound of your heavy breaths and whining moans down the hall. Every time you cum, it's with her name on your tongue.

She imagines sweaty skin, glazed eyes, your back arched up with the rise of pleasure. She imagines her tongue flicking over the soft skin of your neck, her teeth nipping your throat. She imagines her fingers shoving into the delicate, velvety warmth between your folds. She imagines bending you over her knee and smacking your ass in rough, punishing claps of her palm. She imagines slipping her glistening fingers into her mouth, lapping her tongue over the slick she'd gathered from you and relishing her fluttering lashes at the sweetness.

Then she remembers that that isn't the plot of the book, and she's supposed to be focused on other things. She checks her watch for maybe the eleventh time in the past ten minutes and wonders if it's been enough time for her to return. When she decides it hasn't, she takes a gulp of wine and restarts the page she's been staring at for the past twenty-five minutes. She's surprised she's lasted this long…

Enough is enough when she eventually hears you being literally reduced to tears. She decides she wants to see that for herself as she listens to the hefty sobs passing your lips, heaving in your chest. When she pushes the bedroom door open, she isn't disappointed at what she finds.

She doesn't think you've noticed her yet. You lay across the bed, your limbs trembling, your mouth agape like you've got something stuck in it. Her back arches as you fight the oversensitivity of a fresh orgasm. You've tugged so hard on your restraints, your wrists and ankles are rubbed raw.

Emily's eyes are hooded as she watches you. “Oh, baby,” she coos, coming up to you and placing a gentle hand on your thigh. “Look at how beautiful you are.”

You look at her, then up at the ceiling, then back over to her. You look entirely dazed, like you're not even in the room. You huff and whimper as you try to catch your breath. Your face is painted in tears, and more squeeze out every time you blink.

“How do you feel, princess?” she purrs as she sits at the edge of the bed. Her hand strokes your skin when she reaches across your belly, letting her thumb stroke over your belly button and then rubbing gently over the soft plush of your tummy.

Your words are slow and choppy as you struggle to speak, the pleasure too much not to drag you down and force you to stumble. “‘m sorry about…ah-bout s-sending you p-pictures at work and—mmph!—’nd f’r touching myself without p—aah, permission.” A sob erupting from your throat brings a new haste to your apology. “I sh-should’ve been your good girl while you were g-gone, but I wasn't. Fuck, Mommy, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, I'm sorry. I–”

She cuts you off with her lips on yours, silencing your apology and letting you whimper into her mouth. Her palm cups your cheek, her thumb brushes over your bottom lip. You lean into the kiss like you've been starved of her—because you have—drinking her down as soil drinks water.

“Shh,” she smiles. “Good girl. That's a good girl. It's okay.” She shushes you gently once more as she strokes her knuckles against your cheek. “I know that was hard. Was that hard? Staying in here and cumming without me? Hm? Was it hard cumming without my hands on your skin, princess?”

You nod, still not quite focused with the way the wand ravaged you. “Yes, was hard, Mommy. I missed you.”

“Yeah?” she sighs. “It was hard for me, too… Not being in here while you came over and over again. I wanted to be here so I could watch you fall apart, so I could know that it was me who did it. You're mine, baby, and I deserve to be there when my things feel good. Right?”

You nod quickly. “Yes, yes. Yes, I'm sorry.”

“It's okay.” She shushes. “All I want you to do is promise me something.”

“Anything,” you gasp. “Anything, please.”

“Promise me you'll never touch your pretty pussy without my permission ever again.”

You nod. “I promise.”

“Say it.” Her voice is so low, it's nearly a growl in your ear. “Say it, baby.”

“I'll never t-touch my p-pretty pussy without your permission—mm—ever again. I promise!”

She strokes inside our cheeks some more, and you turn your face into her arms as she does. “Good girl. Good girl,” she smiles. “Just cum one more time for me, and I'll let you go, okay?”

The look you give her is devastating. More tears make their way down your cheeks, and she thinks briefly that you're in pain.

“Please,” you whisper, shaking your head. “Please, I can't.”

She nods gently. “Sure you can. What are you at right now?”

You look like you're trying to remember. Your brain is fogged up with pleasure and overstimulation and the feeling of Emily's nails lightly scratching the back of your neck. You speak in the middle of a moan. “Nine.” Your hips are bucking like you're already nearing another.

She applauds your efforts in not passing out. “Nine,” she repeats with a chuckle. “Make it ten, babygirl, and I'll let you go. Can you do that for me? Can you make it ten?”

Your head whirls as you give a slanted nod. “Yes, Mommy.”

She smiles. “Good girl. Such a good girl you are.” She bends down to kiss you. “Just keep lookin’ at me, princess. Look at me and scream my name when you cum, okay? Can you do that?”

Again you nod. “Yes, Mommy.”

She hums, slipping her hand beneath your shirt. Her fingers graze your skin before swiping over your nipple. You're a goner from the start, forcing your eyes to stay open as you watch her, relishing the feeling of the pad of her thumb rubbing feather-light circles over it. “My perfect girl, look at you,” she coos. “God, you're so beautiful. So pretty when you cry and pretty when you cum.”

Her praise is spurring you on, encouraging the desperate buck of your hips as you feel the—now very—familiar spark of an orgasm creeping up on you. It tingles in your thighs and in your belly. It curls your fingers and makes it impossible to stay still.

“You wanna cum for me, babygirl? Hm?” she purrs, kissing your forehead. You nod, and she excuses your lack of words this one time because she knows you're too distracted. “Then cum for me, princess. Cum for Mommy, and tell her how good it feels. C’mon, baby, you can do it.”

You swear you go blind for a moment. You lose your vision staring at Emily, arching your back off the bed as your stomach tenses, and then your legs, and then everything else in your body. Your brain is fuzzy, and you don't even realize it when her name flies off your tongue.

Emily makes you ride out the orgasm, petting you and shushing you and praising you as you struggle to keep up. Your brain feels numb, and you're confident that you'll start drooling if you turn your head.

Emily switches off the wand, unwrapping it from your leg and earning a tiny gasp. She unties the rope, she uncuffs your wrists. She frees you bit by bit until you're laying limply on the bed because it's all you can do.

Emily rubs her hands along your thighs, speaking gently as she comes to the side of the bed. “Such a good girl for me. You did so well, princess,” she coos. “My perfect little girl.”

You don't respond. She'd expected a hum, a moan, any kind of acknowledgment. “Baby?”

She brushes her fingertips along your hairline and finds that you've fallen asleep. Your eyes are closed, your body is entirely limp, and the only reason she knows you're not dead is because your chest is gently rising and falling with each breath that passes through you.

Emily thinks you're the most beautiful woman she's ever seen. And she loves you.

Emily nudges her nose against yours and kisses your lips gently. She stands to her feet and rounds to the foot of the bed. The bed dips under the weight of her knee, then again as she leans on her elbows, taking your thighs in her grasp.

You stir when she kisses your inner thigh, then again when her lips find the softness of your aching clit.

“Mm,” you mumble. “Emily?”

She smiles against your folds, pressing forward to kiss your pussy, tasting the arousal that has gathered there in plentiful amounts. “You're soaking, baby.”

She hears you mutter “Jesus fucking Christ” under your breath, but your attention to the holy spirit is squandered when she licks you, lapping her tongue through your folds and suckling on your abused clit.

“Please, I can't take anymore,” you whine, twitching away from her as your limbs ache. Though she can feel the way you buck weakly into her when she finds the right spot.

“Relax,” she chuckles. “I'm just getting a taste of you.” She grips you roughly when you whimper. “You taste fucking amazing, princess.”

When she kisses your thigh, your leg jerks a little. “God, you're so sensitive.”

You let out a deep breath. “I just came ten times in a row, baby. Of course, I'm sensitive.”

She lightly smacks your side. She sits up, placing herself between your legs. “I'm about to make it a whole lot worse by making you feel a whole lot better.”

You whine, especially when she grabs your knee and turns you over onto your stomach. She pulls you into the position she wants, on your knees with your face in the pillows. “Did you take a little blue pill or–”

Your question is interrupted when she shoves her fingers inside of you, curling them and loving the way you groan. “Don't be a little brat.” She smacks your ass, smoothing it with her palm after.

You nod into the pillow. “Yes, ma'am.”

“Good,” she smiles. “Stay.”

“Yes, ma'am.”

Emily moves off the bed. You hear her slacks drop to the floor, her shirt follows. You look over your shoulder just to watch her strip, her bra and her underwear falling to the floor and revealing her strap. She loves wearing it, you're just surprised she can keep it as well-hidden as she does.

The bed dips once more when she retakes her position behind you. “You ready?”

You nod, and then speak when you know that nodding won't work. “Yes, Mommy.”

She strokes her hand along your back, lining herself up with you before pushing herself between your slick folds. It's easy to do, you're dripping. She laughs when this deep moan slips out of you.

“Fuck, Mommy,” you sigh, gripping the sheets. “Fuck me, please.”

Emily's had a lot of practice in denying you the chance to cum, in making you cum over and over again, in punishing and praising you for every little thing you do right or wrong.

But she's never been able to deny you when you ask so sweetly, begging for her the way you do like you're just desperate for her to use you.

She grabs your hips tight, pulling out of you slowly before shoving back into you so roughly that your body is pushed back into the bed. You moan out loud, gasping as you bury your face in the pillows. She does it again, and again, and again. The head of her cock punches against a deep part inside of you that makes you shout.

Emily takes a lot of pleasure in fucking you. It feels nice to feel you fall apart beneath her, mumbling and gasping and moaning whenever she thrusts into you, crying out when her hand smacks down on your ass just because she wants it to.

“You're so perfect for me, princess,” she coos, a rough groan coming out of her when she pulls you roughly back onto her. “You like when I fuck you like this?”

You nod. “Yes. Yes, Mommy, I love it so much.”

“I know you do,” she hums. “My little girl loves it when I fuck her nice and rough. She loves being used by Mommy.”

Her thrusts bring waves of pleasure that make it impossible to stay quiet. You squeeze your eyes shut, clench around her with each drag of her cock. Her pace is quick and rough, and your head is swirling with all the feelings rushing through you. You didn't think you'd crave it so much, but you feel the need to cum, the desire to to gush and cry as you let go for her.

The sound of skin on skin, hips to ass, slick against slick, it drives you mad. Your mind whirls, and you revel in it.

“Please, Mommy, can I cum? I needa cum so bad,” you babble, gripping the sheets in a tight fist. “Needa cum for you.”

“You want to cum?” she smiles, mild shock on her face. “I make you feel so good that you want to cum again? All for me?”

You nod. “Yes, fuck. Please, can I? I've been good. I apologized, I did what you asked. Please.”

Her hips snap into you as she considers. “I don't know…”

A slight sob falls from your mouth. “I promise I'll be so good for you, Mommy. I'll do whatever you want. Please, just let me cum for you.”

God, where would she be without you? Maybe getting work done.

“Okay, baby,” she says. “You can cum. I'll make you cum.”

You hear the sound of the wand coming to life again, and your hips buck. “Ah, ah, ah. You said you wanted to cum. You're gonna cum how I want you to cum.”

You don't know what you expected, but you're going to listen because you love Emily and Emily knows best. Also, she holds all the power on whether or not you actually get what you want, so there's also that.

She presses the wand to your clit, and a startled moan erupts from your chest. “F-fuck,” you whine.

“That’s it. Let it out, baby. Cum for me,” she rasps in your ear. You have no choice but to obey as she thrusts into you with all the enthusiasm in the world, holding the wand steady and making you weak with the tremors it sends through your body.

It's like a band snaps in your belly, and it takes you completely by surprise when it happens. “Mommy!” you shout, burying your face in the pillow as you gasp, clenching down around her as she continues to fuck you with all the roughness she has.

Somewhere along the way of sparks and flashes and curling guts, you sob. It feels nice to do it, a release that joins your orgasm and shivers through the whole of your body. “Fuck, Mommy, yes. Thank you s’much.”

Emily's mouth presses to the back of your neck, loving on you with kisses and gentle grazes of her teeth. “Good girl,” she coos. “Such a good girl for me. Always a good girl.”

You preen under her praise, gasping when she pulls the wand away and then out of you. You let your body fall on your side, relaxing into the sheets with the heavy weight of relief.

Emily strokes a hand along your skin, slowly and deeply to massage your muscles. You almost fall asleep again as she does it before she collapses beside you with a huff. She undoes the ties of her strap and sets it aside before she pulls you into her.

“You're amazing,” you slur into her skin.

She snorts. “You're amazing.”

You slide a hand down her side, dipping between her legs to push them apart. “What’re you doing?”

You sit up, spreading her legs as you settle yourself between them. “Making you feel good.”

Again, Emily chuckles. “Well, who am I to refuse that?”

You roll your eyes, dipping down to lick at her folds, now wet with the pleasure of your pleasure. She lays back, relishing in the feeling of you and your tongue and the gentle graze of your teeth on her folds.

But you're enthusiastic, and you don't let her enjoy soft pleasures. You bury your head between her thighs and lap at her pussy like it drips precious honey. You suckle on her clit and wiggle it between your lips.

“Oh, fuck,” she curses, reaching down to grab your hair, to hold it as you attempt to give her the pleasure she'd given you. “Just like that, baby. So good.” You moan, letting the gentle vibration rock through her. You wrap your arms tightly around her thighs, keeping her locked in place and sighing when she bucks against you.

Her hips become more jerky as they move against you. You can feel her clenching around your tongue when you plunge it inside, and you hum into her as you anticipate her coming release. Her breath swells as it builds and builds.

She pulls you roughly in, caging you in with her thighs around your head when she cums. You whine into her, sucking on her clit and lapping at her folds as she cums, her moans deep and breathy with the call of your name.

The pleasure floats in her head and makes her feel light. She has to pull you away herself once it sours into overstimulation and becomes too much. The irony curls your lip.

“Fuck, baby,” she huffs, leaning back into the pillows as you find your way up the length of her body. You lick your lips clean, enjoying the taste of her as you bend down to kiss her lips.

“You taste good,” you mutter. She smiles and kisses you again.

“Thanks.” She pulls her arms around you, holding you tight as you lay on her chest, her nose nuzzled into her neck. “How do you feel?”

You sigh heavily, nuzzling closer. “Tired.”

“I bet,” she lilts. She kisses your hairline. “Hey.”

“Mm?”

“I wouldn't mind more of those pictures. But if you touch yourself without me again, we make it twelve.”

“Oh, God,” you whine, pushing off of her to bury your face in the pillow. She laughs, lugging your body back into her arms as she presses her front to your back. She kisses the spot below your ear and closes her eyes to enjoy the feeling of your warmth.

“I'm gonna need about three business days to recover.”

She snorts. “I'll give you one.”

Criminal Minds taglist: @queermaxwooo @mdanon027 @lilianhallee @hpstuff244444 @thegr8estpuff @niktwazny303 @bubbles2300 @hiireadstuff @chloelmao67 @feyresqueen @hbwrelic @princess76179 @hc-geralt-23 Tag yourself here...

[ssa-atlas-alvez]

OOH ! I have an idea.

The team is at a diner and a little kid drags his mother over to them by her sleeve, saying he didn’t think cowboys were real!!! Like mermaids and unicorns and all that. And cowboy!reader takes a photo with the kid and is all cute saying ‘fur the recurd, cowboys are very real, and that lov’ly lady over there *points at JJ* is a mermaid! but you can’t tell anybody, that’s dangerous huh?’ And the kids jaw just drops and JJ is like why is this child staring at me. Cowboy gets to fill her in later that he told the kid about her magical tail and such.

- 🦕

The only thing that might class as a warning is its the English spelling for mum and all that aha

Taglist: @xweirdo101x @xdark-acadamiax @ara-a-bird @heidss @chubbyboyinflannel @pendragon-writes @migwayne @bigolgay @technikerin23 @supercriminalbean @honestlycasualarcade @caffeine-mess @1s3v3n1 @oddmiles @kevyeen @stealing-kneecaps @criminalskies

"Mummy! Mummy! There's a cowboy!" You look up as the mother shushes, "But Mummy I thought they weren't real!"

"I'm really sorry," The mother looks up at you, flustered and you give her a smile.

"Mummy! Can you take a picture of me and the cowboy! I need to show Eddie! He doesn't believe in cowboys either!" The boy begs his mum, pulling on the bottom of her jacket as he does.

"I'm so so sorry,"

"Ma'am, its completely fine," You reassured, "I don't mind takin' a photo," The mother gives you a grateful smile as the boy flings his arms around your neck with the biggest grin for the photo.

"I thought cowboys weren't real! Like mermaids and unicorns!" The boy exclaims, "This is the best day!"

"What d'you mean mermaids aren't real?" You asked, "You see that lovely lady over there with the blonde hair?" You point at JJ and the boy gives a nod, "She's a real life mermaid,"

"Whoa!"

"Yep," You said with a nod, "But you can't tell anyone, okay? It's a secret,"

"Okay! I won't!" He exclaimed before leaning close, "She's a really pretty mermaid,"

"Yeah," You whispered, a smile coating your face, "She is."

"What about unicorns?"

"What about 'em?"

"Are they real too?!"

"Oh, yeah!" You exclaim, "You see that lady?" You point to Garcia, "She's in disguise, she's a real life unicorn." The boy gasps loudly, the team turning to you both with a curious look and the boy shrieks.

"They looked at me!" He grins, "Best day ever!"

"Alright Mister, time to come and eat your food," The mother laughs slightly.

"Don't wanna leave the cowboy," He pouts.

"Hey, you gotta listen to ya Mama, a'right?" You look at the boy, "Even cowboys gotta do what their Mama tells 'em," The boy looks at you seriously before nodding.

"Okay!" And with that, he gives you one last hug before running to his table.

About thirty minutes had passed before JJ and Garcia turned to you.

"Why is that little boy staring at us?" JJ asked, Garcia nodding in agreement.

You grinned, "Well, he told me he didn't think cowboys were real, like Mermaids and Unicorns... So I kind of told him JJ was a mermaid and Garcia was a unicorn?"

[mrs-prentiss]

someone for the love of GOD RECOMMEND ME AN EMILY PRENTISS X READER FANFICITON ON WATTPAD OR FANFIC OR SOMETHING THAT I HAVENT READ I CANT KEEP REREADING THE SAME ONES

Edit : Y’all i have to many

[5raysofsunshine]

In the Kitchen with Penelope - Emily Prentiss x Penelope Garcia

Hi friends! Who wants to read about Emily and Penelope baking together (and flirting and being a tad bit chaotic)?! This takes place around the beginning of Emily being there, like mid-late s2. They be developing crushes on each other!

Written for @sweetprentiss 's birthday bingo: Cooking or Baking Together

Rating: G

Word count: 2065

Tagging @ssaagentemilyprentiss @dalexandriag16 @its-soph-xx @143bc (if you want to be tagged in future fics lmk!)

Enjoy! 💖

---

“Emily.” Penelope says, staring at the so-called ingredients Emily had said she bought for the cake they were going to make.

“Yeah?” Emily asks, already knowing that Penelope is disappointed with what she sees.

Penelope gestures towards the kitchen island counter, “That is a cake in a box.”

“Yup!” Emily said confidently. Sitting on top of Emily’s kitchen island is a small blue rectangular box with a stylized photo of a perfectly baked yellow cake with chocolate frosting and a cartoon mascot smiling widely. The ingredients and instructions for the premade cake mix are printed on the back of the box in simple wording with small illustrations to show the steps visually.

Penelope rolls her eyes, “You told me you had cake ingredients!”

“I do! All the dry ingredients are already mixed together and then it calls for water, eggs, and vegetable oil! Which I have!” Emily argues back.

Penelope shakes her head back and forth, “No, no, no! Emily, I came over here because you said you wanted my help making a cake, and THIS is what you need help with? Are you telling me you can’t follow simple back-of-the-box instructions?”

“I don’t want to screw it up! You’ll help me not screw it up!” Emily pleads.

Sure, Emily can bake the cake pretty easily, if she pays attention to measurements and doesn’t forget that she already added something, and if she doesn’t forget to set a timer for the oven. This is why Emily invited Penelope over. The blonde had offered to help Emily if she ever wanted to bake something, since Penelope often bakes sweet treats for the team on holidays and when she hosts little get togethers at her apartment. And to be perfectly honest, Emily would use any excuse she could to spend some quality time with her new friend.

“Emily, how the hell can you-” Penelope begins to ask, but Emily interrupts.

“You must think very highly of me, because I can assure you that I will absolutely mess this up somehow if I tried making this by myself.” It’s true, she could and most likely would if Penelope wasn’t here.

Penelope sighs, “I actually do think very highly of you, Emily. Always have... but now I’m starting to think I shouldn’t.”

“Oh come on, PG!” Emily exclaims. “I’ve always struggled with baking. And cooking, for that matter. I am useless in the kitchen, and it’s literally so... embarrassing.”

“Well... don’t worry, my sweet. A badass intelligent sexy woman like yourself doesn't need to be skilled in the kitchen as long as you’re skilled in... other areas.”

“Ha, tell that to my exes.”

“Oh screw them, they probably didn’t deserve you anyway.”

“Aw, thanks.”

Penelope sighs deeply, grabbing the box of cake mix and putting it away in one of Emily’s cabinets. “Okay, screw this cake mix. Emily Prentiss, I’m going to teach you how to make a cake from scratch!”

“Really?” Emily asks, already doubtful about how well this will go.

“Yes!” Penelope says confidently, “As long as you have all of the ingredients we’ll need.”

“Like what?”

“Well, what goes into a cake?” Penelope asks, quizzing Emily to see if she at least knows the basic ingredients.

Emily taps her chin as she hums in thought. “Hmm... well we still need water, vegetable oil, and eggs, right?” Penelope nods, gesturing for Emily to continue. “Pretty sure we’re gonna need flour, sugar, butter, and... frosting? I bought lots of frosting!”

Admiring how cute the brunette is when she gets excited about the fact that she has plenty of frosting, Penelope smiles and her bottom lip pouts just a little. “Okay, those are very basic cake ingredients. But we’ll also need baking powder, baking soda, some salt, and vanilla extract. Do you have those things?”

Emily nods, “Um, I think so.”

Penelope grins and claps her hands together, “I’m going to search your kitchen.”

---

“So, how come you struggle with baking?” Penelope asks as she cracks a couple eggs and dumps the insides into a large mixing bowl.

Emily shrugs, plugging in an electric hand mixer in preparation to mix the cake ingredients together. “I never really learned how. You know, usually a kid is taught how to cook or bake by their mom or their grandma. But, I never had that opportunity.”

Penelope frowns. “Why is that?” She suspects it’s because of how Emily grew up. Living in foreign countries and not being well connected with family. But she still asks, because she genuinely wants to learn more about her new friend, despite knowing the basics of Emily’s life through the personal research she did when the brunette agent first arrived at the BAU.

Two beater attachments click into place before Emily responds, “See, my mother wasn’t much of a kitchen person, and I must admit I was pretty spoiled with private chefs while growing up. Even when I was living on my own in my university days, I could barely make a decent meal for myself. I mostly lived on food that was served at the restaurant I worked at.” Penelope nods, remembering that Emily had once mentioned she was a waitress when she was going to college. Whether that was undergrad or grad school, she’s not sure. Emily continues, “I try to follow recipes, but I somehow always forget something. Whether it’s an ingredient or I leave it in the oven for too long, or I didn’t use the right amount of flour-”

Penelope’s palm lands on top of Emily’s hand that is resting on the counter. “Well, you don’t have to worry about that now, my sweet. Not while I’m here.”

Emily smiles at Penelope’s words and removes her hand, only to place it on top of Penelope’s in return. “Thanks.” She says, gazing into Penelope’s brown eyes with her own. “I really appreciate it.”

Penelope grins and removes her hand from underneath Emily’s and places it back on top, patting the back of the brunette’s hand a few times. “I’m happy to be of service. Now, hand over the mixer so we can put this batter in the pans.”

“No way, I wanna mix it!” Emily says with a grin, holding up the hand mixer like a gun and turning it on for a brief second before turning it off again.

“Woah,” Penelope says giggling before stepping back. “Be careful where you point that thing! Put it in the bowl, missy! In. The. Bowl.”

---

“I swear to god Emily if you keep eating the batter there won’t be enough to make the damn cake!” Penelope complains, softly whacking Emily’s hand to stop her from reaching in the mixing bowl for another taste. As soon as Penelope’s hand pulls away, Emily quickly dips her finger into the batter and brings it to her mouth. Penelope scowls, “Emily!”

Emily giggles as she sucks her finger clean, “I’m sorry! It’s just so tasty!” Penelope rolls her eyes, continuing to butter her cake pans. She’s trying hard not to smile, but the corner of her lips begin to betray her. Emily smirks, “I bet it’s so good because you made it with love, huh?”

Penelope purses her lips, “Well, all of my baked goodies are made with love, so this is no exception. It’s also made with uncooked eggs! So stop it! You’re gonna make yourself sick!”

Emily holds the mixing bowl over one of the cake pans, pouring the batter into the round container. “So what? I’ve been through worse than salmonella.”

Penelope frowns, curious as to what Emily meant by that comment. She decides not to ask, despite really wanting to, and instead exclaims, “Emily Prentiss, that is sooo not the point and you know it!” Without thinking too much about it, Penelope brings the spatula she was using to scrape the inside of the bowl and taps Emily’s cheek with it. The batter splatters as it makes contact, leaving droplets on her nose, mouth, and chin as well as her cheek.

Emily’s mouth falls open in shock, immediately bringing her hand up to wipe some of the batter off her cheek. As Penelope cackles, Emily places the mixing bowl down on the counter with a clatter. “Garcia! What the hell!”

Penelope’s laughter subsides into giggles. “I’m sorry but you totally deserved it.”

“I deserve cake batter on my face?”

“Well, since you love eating it so much now you have your own little supply to enjoy while these go in the oven.”

Penelope quickly scrapes the rest of the batter into the second cake pan by herself as Emily swipes her finger across her cheek. Emily stares at the glob of yellow cake batter on the tip of her finger, “I thought you said you wanted me to stop eating the batter.”

“I do. So here, wipe it off.” Penelope tosses Emily a rag, the brunette catching it with one hand.

“But isn’t that a waste of batter?” Emily teases.

“Shut up, you goof. Clean your pretty face.” Penelope teases back.

After Penelope places the two cake pans in the oven, she turns to Emily, who is doing a poor job at removing all of the batter off her face. Penelope shakes her head, “You still have a bit on your cheek.”

“Where?” Emily asks.

Penelope steps closer towards Emily. “There’s a bit on your chin so... here.” She grabs the rag out of Emily’s hands and brings it up to the brunette’s face, gently wiping Emily’s face with the cloth. The women’s eyes lock on each other and they quickly look away, both embarrassed and nervous about being so close together, though neither of them step back. “And...um... here.” Penelope continues, wiping a batter splatter from the corner of Emily’s mouth while trying very hard not to stare at the brunette’s parted lips that look so pretty and soft.

“Am I... um... did you get it all?” Emily asks in a quiet whisper. Penelope’s eyes suddenly widen in surprise, having just returned to reality from daydreaming about what it would be like to kiss her co-worker.

“Yes! Yes, you’re- um... all good! Look at that pretty face!” Penelope says, immediately stepping away from Emily and tossing the dirty dish towel on the counter.

“So, I know you compliment, like, everyone. But I just hope you know how much I appreciate it when you compliment me. I should compliment you more in return.”

“Well, who’s stopping you?” Penelope teases, looking back at Emily with fluttering eyelashes. “Go ahead. I’m all ears.”

“Oh. Um. I-uh...” Emily stutters, heat spreading across her face as she tries to form a coherent thought. “I think you’re really pretty too. Very pretty. And very smart- like, you’re incredibly sharp witted, which really is a big compliment coming from me because I don’t often meet my match. To my wit, that is. Because, you know, I’m... witty, too. I think.”

“You’re really cute when you ramble.”

“Oh. Sorry.” Emily apologizes, the blush finally showing in her cheeks.

“No need to apologize, sugar. You’re totally fine.” Penelope says with a wink.

“How about I open a bottle of wine and we wait in the den till the timer goes off?” Emily suggests.

Penelope gasps, “Trying to get me drunk, Prentiss?”

Emily rolls her eyes playfully, “Red or White?”

“Red. Like that cute shirt you’re wearing.”

Emily chuckles, glancing down at her own shirt. “Oh, thanks! I’ll meet you over there.” The brunette nods her head towards her living room. She watches as Penelope walks out of the kitchen and into Emily’s living room, her chunky heels clunking on the tile before the sound of her steps is muted by the carpet. Emily smiles to herself, admiring how cute the blonde looks even when she’s walking away. Suddenly she shakes her head to rid her brain of an inappropriate thought. She can’t deny that there are several things about her coworker that are extremely attractive: her beauty, her intelligence, her confidence, her charisma. The ability to leave Emily scrambling for words when the blonde opens her mouth and effortlessly flirts.

Now Emily understands what Derek had told her in regards to Penelope, ‘That woman will make you fall in love with her without even trying.’ Because here she is, pouring a glass of wine for the most remarkable woman she has ever met, and falling for Penelope Garcia, just a little.

[whump-town]

The Paths to Revenge

Warnings: same old, same old... just some stabbing

Pairing: Hotch/Morgan

Summary: Doyle nonsense but make it Hotch/Morgan for the fun of it.

Clyde goes first.

“No one else can know,” JJ had whispered feverishly. She’d looked nearly insane, had come unattached in her months away from them and now pulled back into the whirling black hole of the mess he created by force, cruelly unnatural. “He will kill her. If he—” she’d choked on the words, tears starting to fall down her face. She had looked up at him with a wordless inquiry, sadness and disappointment laced in the fingers she wove into his. If this wouldn’t break him, what would? If he couldn’t cry now, for his best friend, would he ever cry again?

“You can’t tell Derek.”

It’s not their first secret. Hotch severely doubts it's their last.

The grace with which Derek Morgan seems to live has always bewildered Aaron. There is something about the way that Derek breathes gentleness, cupped hands so gentle his fingers could pry apart and life would still be captured in his hands. The fluttering of delicate butterfly wings twitching in his warm palms. Torn between desires, Aaron could never understand if he wished for those palms to close around his throat. To solidify him as something wretched, so undeserving of Derek’s endless, gentle love that he might stifle it once and for all. In another breath, he wishes he could curl himself up to be something so small and so delicate that Derek might hold him like that. Like something worth preserving, worth loving.

Those hands do not wrap around his throat, applying crushing pressure until Aaron is no more. They come to frame Aaron’s face, their warmth seeping into the bone chill of his body. Thumb stroking along a worry line stretched wide by his deep frown. “Tell me what you’re thinking,” Derek whispers, he’s desperate to be them again. For Aaron to settle back down and find him, to lean into his touch. Hotch’s weary but tense with panic and restlessness. Not sleeping. Hardly eating. Derek can’t keep watching this and he’s not sure how much longer Aaron can keep it up. “I can see it in your eyes, I can always tell.”

Before their relationship, Derek had been jealous of everything that Emily and Aaron had. At the time he hadn’t known it for what it was, his unrequited love making him bitter. He had just seen the way they looked at one another, the way they worked and he’d wanted to be that person for Aaron too. Emily’s intuition had lead her to find Aaron after Foyet’s attack, all based on nothing more than a feeling. While Derek had felt boiling rage and the inability to so much as look at Aaron while he suffered alone in that hospital bed. Derek had been jealous of how easily they spoke with one another, in a language no one else really understood. How Emily could comfort Hotch — she was allowed to touch him and hug him and press a kiss to his cheek or even drag him down several steps by the ear to reprimand him like a child. While even comforting gestures Derek attempted seemed to piss Hotch off.

But now Emily’s dead and Derek wishes she was here. So that he can hear Aaron laugh again. To argue loudly and pointless about Sean Connery vs Daniel Craig — how Aaron’s never cared about either but he gets all soft around the edges listening to Emily and Derek bicker more and more as the night goes on. To be happy and close.

And, maybe, Derek just misses his best friend too.

Both of them.

It starts with Clyde. National television doesn’t pick it up, it’s the sort of affair that’s quickly suffocated to prevent mass media from getting word. It reaks with the proper stench of death, Clyde Easter bound to a chair in his London flat. His own blood in a pool at his feet, head hung in the final submission of death. Severally tortured. The strain of an entire week of torture, hunger, and exhaustion taking its toll. Died of a heart attack. Aaron doesn’t need to be told what’s happening, he couldn’t even talk about it if he wanted to. He’s only given what he’s needed, a warning that he’s next and to watch out.

Aaron just prays Derek isn’t there when it happens. He’s allowed this one small grace.

“Ice cream,” Derek says more to the room than to Aaron, the idea had dawned on him so suddenly he’d spoken it out loud. Having spent another weekend inside, moping from their bed to the couch to the kitchen back to their bed, Derek is buzzing with energy he needs to do something with. Grief and this lie Aaron holds sucks him rather dry of the will to do anything. It seems the energy he’s supposed to have has gone to Derek, makes him worse. “Ice cream,” Derek repeats with a clap of his hand. “I’m going to get ice cream and you don’t have to come with me but I’d really like you to.”

Aaron looks up, hair a mess on the top of his head and shoulders sinking impossibly low in their joints as exhaustion sweeps over him. He’s incapable of so much as looking at Derek, having to see how hopeful and how loving he’s being looked at. All he’s ever wanted was to be loved and now he’s got it and he can’t face the vulnerability that cracks through his sternum every time Derek touches him. How every demonstration of love is such debilitating proof of how broken he is. How hopeless.

“I’ll bring you back a tub of Rocky Road.” Derek slides his jacket on, he’s not annoyed. No matter how convinced Hotch is, Derek isn’t even bothered. He knew he was going to get ice cream alone and, though he’d rather not do it alone, that’s okay.

Once his feet are shoved into his sneakers he comes back around the side of the couch and kisses the top of Hotch’s head, messing further with his hair. “I love you.”

Derek couldn’t remember what the last thing he said to Emily was. It kept him up at night trying to piece together every last second he had before she was taken from him before the nurses pulled them in opposite directions. Did she know he loved her? How glad he was that she was someone that not only he could trust but that Aaron had too? It’s the sort of thing that weighs down heavily on him. Now he can’t leave anyone without saying it.

Aaron has the opposite problem. Pulls away so that in case this happens again he won’t get hurt.

“I love you too,” he answers but hoarsely and to the sound of Derek walking away.

Jack is with Jessica. She takes Hotch’s emotional distance with grace, allows him this little period of reprieve while he tries to get back into the swing of things. He’s lost both of his best friends in a year’s span of time and is still really struggling to understand how to integrate himself fully into his relationship with Derek.

Life, it seems, has been throwing hard balls and it’s not getting any easier.

Derek kicks his shoes off at the door, more Aaron’s habit than his but he’s learning to uphold it. “I got rainbow sprinkles,” he calls out. “I know you have a reputation to uphold but I also know you love them—” Derek tosses the bags up onto the counter, smirking even in his slight confusion. He’d figured Aaron would have come looking for him once the front door opened. He’s vigilant about that sort of stuff. Even if he does know logically it’s just Derek. “Hey—” he’s greeted by the dark living room. It’s undeniably odd. “Where’d you—” Derek smirks when he sees Aaron’s back, even bowed and distressed it’s still undeniably him. “Aaron?”

A gun cocks at his head and Derek freezes, eyes never leaving Aaron’s. “Sit down.” Derek opens his mouth, going to argue or fight but Aaron looks away. Gaze sinking to the floor as his head rolls down, chin on his chest. “Sit down!” Derek listens, not out of fear of the gun just in his line of sight but because he can’t think past the sight of blood smeared across the side of Aaron’s face. The way his right eye is red with blood, his temple drooling angrily down his cheek. “I have to admit,” the dark of the room caves to what little light is in the house, and Derek tenses. Recognizes him immediately.

“You fucker—”

The gun is moved, away from his head and to Aaron’s bowed temple. “Sit. Down.”

Derek hadn’t even realized it, he’d just stood like he could do something in the face of a gun. Now he certainly can’t, being the cause of his own life’s end is one thing but to hurt Aaron is another. He sits back down, eases his way back to a sitting position with his hands on the table. He won’t do anything fast.

“You know what I want.” Ian Doyle stands in their house, smirking at the wet sound of Aaron’s blood dripping on the floor. “Tell me where she is.”

Derek opens his mouth to answer, a snippy — “she’s dead” — but Aaron looks up at him. The look they share is laced with mixed truths and the bold lie woven between the three men. His bloody eye, pupil blown wide staring back at Derek with all the answers he needs. Emily had died for them. She’d chased down her past and fought it all alone for them. Derek wondered if that meant she didn’t trust them, didn’t think they were capable of undertaking this threat with them. Looking at Aaron, watching his chest rise and fall in choking breathes, Derek wishes he couldn’t understand the solemn warrior trope. That he didn’t know the truth.

“She’s dead,” Derek mumbles but he’s not so sure about that anymore.

Ian smirks, unfooled. “See,” he clicks his tongue, “that’s what your friend here keeps telling me.” Ian shakes his head, taking the muzzle of the gun and grazing it across Hotch’s head. Trailing it through his hair. “I remain unconvinced.”

Aaron looks hopelessly up at Derek, a tear sliding down through the blood on his cheek. Caught on his eyelash, trailing over the duct tape on his mouth.

The knife comes out of nowhere. Slammed down into Aaron’s thigh with no warning. The duct tape obstructs his breathing, leaves Aaron gasping, struggling to breathe. He groans, sucking in air through his nose but it’s not enough. Aaron’s eyelids flutter, his head tilted back as he trembles. Face drained of color, his breathing getting worse. More strained, shallow.

Derek jerks his head away, clenching his teeth when Doyle jerks the knife back out of the wound. Aaron makes an awful sound, pained and unconscious.

“Tell me!” Doyle slams his fist down on the table. Completely ignores Aaron’s noises, his pained cries as he wheezes around the ducktape. “Tell me or I’ll kill him.”

Derek shakes his head, “no, no—”

“It’s not that hard,” Doyle sneers, patience is gone. “Her for him, choose!”

Derek shakes his head again, his own tear falling down. “I don’t know,” he whispers. Derek starts to tremble, rage replacing hopelessness. Angered to the point of tears. “She’s dead! We buried her!”

Doyle shouts, “fine! You want to keep playing games?” Doyle raises the knife up between them, letting the blade punctuate the question. “You will always lose Agent Morgan. Always—”

“No!”

Aaron’s eyes fly back open, a scream muffled by the duct tape. “I’ll find her,” Doyle promises. “It doesn’t matter what you do.” Aaron’s head falls down to chest, eyes falling shut. “And when I find her, there’s nothing that you’ll be able to do to stop me.” Doyle reaches down, fingers slick with Aaron’s blood, and pulls the knife from Aaron’s chest. “Last chance,” Doyle whispers with a grin. He steps back, “last game, last question: me or Agent Hotchner?”

Derek doesn’t wait for Doyle to get out of sight, he moves immediately to the other side of the room. He steps behind the chair Hotch is tied to, seeing for the first time the ropes wrapped around his arms. The way he’s constrained to the chair, unable to move. “Aaron,” Derek lifts his head up, his fingers under Aaron’s chin. His skin is clammy, cold against Derek’s palm. “Aaron, hey! Look at me, keep your eyes open. Aaron?” His head is heavy, limp in Derek’s hold. “Aaron, please. Stay with me.”

He stops breathing in the ambulance, airway preserved by the tracheal tube bulged in his throat. His heart beats too quickly, pounding away in his ribcage. Derek feels like just yesterday he was living this exact horror movie, Emily’s cold hand unresponsive in his. Dark hair a crown on poignant contrast. Life held in the balance, raw existence. Again, Derek feels the pitter of a heartbeat against his fingertips. Again his breath is held as nurses pull him one way and his heart is torn from his chest.

What will JJ have to say this time?

Will the same tears shine in her eyes? The same trepidation? Their lie is bleeding out on a stretcher being pushed down a luminescent hallway. As pale as the death they created. Perhaps this is the price one pays when meddling with things beyond control. Things that are not to be messed with. The evil Derek’s mother forbade him from playing with. Worse than the handmade ouija board under his bed, death’s creator laying on his chest.

Lying dead in his arms.

Derek Morgan sits for six hours, entirely alone in the waiting room. Each breath could be the last he shares with Aaron and he won’t know for several more to come. They labor on, Aaron’s controlled by machines and Derek’s by the flood of emotions weighing him down. He can only control himself for so long, holding down the bitter failures of the last few days. His anger is intense, uncontrollable.

“You lied.” It’s the middle of the night, Garcia’s hair still pulled back in pigtails and JJ’s in a clip at the back of her head. The waiting room isn’t full of special agents, dressed to the nines ready for a fight. Derek sees only their family, leggings, and sweatpants, and he can’t take it.

“You lied,” Derek repeats to the floor. “She’s not dead and now Aaron—” his voice catches. Derek rubs his hands down his eyes, looks up at them unashamed of the tears falling down his face. Her fault. JJ and her stupid lie. “I’ll never forgive you. If he dies… If he dies because of this stupid shit, I’ll never forgive you.”

“Derek—”

“Not now.”

Sixty-two hours. Over two days of sitting and measuring machine regulated breathes. Three nights of sleeping in a chair, falling asleep to the sounds of machines and thin blankets pulled to his chin. Aaron twitches and each time Derek thinks he’s going to wake up but his pleas are meant with more silence.

It’s sitting. Waiting. Watching. The waiting room has become his third home, where he’s kicked to when Aaron’s getting another test or scan. He’s left with only the anxieties of the unknown. He spends hours just drumming his knee, head in his hands. That’s a long time to sit and think about all things you’ve said in the past.

They hunt him down, attempting to softly fill in the holes with medical jargon. Stammering and averting his gaze to the tiled floor under his feet. “Uhm,” he rubs at his eyes. “I--I don’t want to know.” He doesn’t care that the doctor looks stunned, entirely caught off guard. “Someone else,” he mumbles, head still ducked as he steps into the room. Leaving the doctor in the hall. “Tell someone else when they arrive.” He just can’t do it. He can’t hear all that medical bullshit and still have this blind hope that everything will turn out.

He grabs a chair from the ones lining the wall across from Hotch’s bed, pulling it right up to Hotch’s side and throwing himself into it unceremoniously. Derek looks everywhere but Hotch. He got a glance in and he knows what there is to see. Tape twisting Hotch’s lips around the tube down his throat. All pale skin, still hands, and machines. Derek huffs, shaking his head, and picks at his cuticles. They’ve all been through so much but Hotch…

They never really get a break, do they?

He wishes he could go back to when it was just the three of them. Hotch, Gideon, and himself against the world. When it was Hotch’s desk he kicked his feet up on, watching him eat his lunch or snack in a certain order. Thirty years old and still saving his dessert for after his sandwich and carrots. The only person Derek’s ever met that cared or noticed the apparent lack of yellow and green M&Ms compared to the other colors. Also, the only person Derek knows who sits and sorts them out. Putting them in a neat line and two of each color-- one M&M for each side of his mouth.

Derek’s eyes sting and he rubs them roughly, shaking his head and forcing himself to pull it together. He’s not going to cry over Hotch sharing those odd M&Ms with him. Not going to think about how close they used to be, how things have changed for the better and the worse. He’s not going to die, so there’s no need to think like that.

They’ll be fine.

Everything is fine.

Garcia finds Ian Doyle, he never left Virginia.

Emily’s already on a plane coming over.

Killing Clyde Easter was revenge. It had been personal. For creating Lauren Reynolds and then for taking her away. Hurting Aaron was just convenience. Doyle knew Clyde’s death would sting but it would be no reason to come home, no reason to bring Emily home. There would be nothing she could do about the affair by the time she got word of his death. Hurting Aaron, though. Hurting one of the people Emily had supposedly died to protect, would work like a charm. It would draw her out.

Ian Doyle hadn’t planned for Derek Morgan. Not fully. He knew Derek would arrive when he needed him to, with enough time to keep Agent Hotchner sparingly alive. To make sure Doyle made it clear he knew Emily Prentiss is alive, to stir the team. Pin them against one another. Even against their downed leader. Take out the strongest first -- and that’s where Doyle hadn’t really known them. Aaron is fearless, he’s stupidly brave, but he’s not stupid. He won’t be blinded by his feelings. What Doyle did was stifle their logic, he disabled the one person who would have allowed Doyle to escape. What Doyle did was piss off five agents tired of losing the people they love.

Aaron gets worse on his own.

Garcia stays home, someone needs to be there in case Hotch wakes up. It’s not hard to figure out why they’d want to leave her behind. She’s stronger at home, has what she needs. And Derek’s terrified something will happen.

Ian Doyle finds Declan, it’s all the same story. Confused children and manipulative adults. There are no bittersweet reunions -- not between biological father and son and not between Emily and the others. Doyle and Emily have set fire to the families they had. Held a lighter over the portrait and watched the color melt to grey and then to black. Piercing a hole in the heart.

The airstrip lights up in heavy gunfire.

Derek doesn’t fire a shot. He wishes he had, for his own selfish fire starving out. He doesn’t shoot for Aaron. This isn’t what he’d want. This mess that they’ve all made. Aaron’s morals are always getting in the way of things but as Derek lowers his gun he’s flooded with relief. His anger abating, exhaustion seeping in. Ian Doyle dies on the tarmac. Spread out on his back and choking on blood. It takes four minutes.

It doesn’t feel long enough.

Not after everything he’s taken.

“Derek?”

He can hear it in her voice.

“I think-- Oh God, I think something is wrong.”

Emily had died. Derek had watched the monitor run-flat.

She’s a ghost and Aaron’s dying. This time no matador’s cape will dance, shaking free the threat with deadly precision. No magician to pull up the curtain, to show them the trap door.

“How is he?” Emily asks

“Alive,” JJ mumbles. “They’re not sure for how long--” she shrugs and Reid makes a choked sound, blushing and wiping his face clean of the tears still dry on his cheek. JJ just glances at him. “He’s holding on, Morgan’s with him.” The dismissiveness in her tone is not a reflection of how she feels, truly. It’s just a protective measure to ensure she doesn’t break. If she stops for even a moment she will cry and she’s still trying to convince herself that this is going to work out.

Aaron can’t die now. He’s laced hesitation into Derek’s logic. Changed too many things about him -- taught him the magic of rainbow sprinkles and how to cut hair with nothing but kitchen scissors and the bathroom mirror. Derek’s learned the magic of loving his best friend. Hating the person he shares a bed with. Being unable to sleep without the heat of Aaron’s body close by, no more than a breath away.

With those gentle hands, meant to capture thrashing wild things, Derek Morgan cups Aaron’s face. “I can see what you’re thinking,” he whispers. The intubation machines are gone, one step forward. Aaron lays flat on his back, an oxygen mask over his face. Across his bare chest are machine leads, pads left stuck to his chest. His heart is giving out. “Don’t--” Derek shakes his head, clearing his throat. He uses the back of his hand to push away a tear. “Don’t leave me, Aaron. Not now.”

Every muscle in Aaron’s body is stiff with pain untouchable by the maxed-out morphine. Cold sweat streaks across his body, makes him shiver, and clench his teeth down when the small movements spike worse pain. The thin sheet across his hips does nothing. It feels colder than the rest of the room, not even the reassuring pressure of it seems to help. His muscles ache from the tension. From the rounds he’s lost against the crash cart.

If he could force his jaw open, unclench it from the pain, he’d beg Derek for a blanket. Something warm or comforting. For relief. Anything.

He wakes to movement. It takes him too long to realize it’s his body being moved. “Easy.” Aaron looks up, confused by the sight of Emily and Derek standing side-by-side. “Here--” They work together, moving his body slowly. They try not to hurt him but he feels lit up inside. A pyre in his chest set ablaze with a match. Agonizing. He closes his eyes tight, detached enough to lose focus of where their hands are on his body.

“Aaron?”

When he can open his eyes again, he’s looking up at the ceiling.

“Hey, there sleeping beauty.”

There are pillows under one of his sides, another tucked under his thigh.

“Don’t--” He’s not even aware he’s doing it, not until he’s looking at the hand Emily’s just smacked. “Are you an actual child? Stop touching everything.” She stands and he watches in amazement as she bends over him and fixes the oxygen canal under his nose. Her hand grazes his cheek and she’s real. She’s here. When she notices his confusion she smirks, “seeing a ghost, Hotch?”

“Emily.” Oh, Derek. Hotch looks over at him, a dopey smirk he’s not even aware of spreading across his face. When Derek sees it, he loses his tension. The sting of his reprimand, who still thinks it’s too soon for Emily’s dead jokes, is gone. “How do you feel?” he asks even though he’s not sure Hotch has managed to find his words. His answer is that smile, growing wider as Derek kisses his cheek.

Aaron closes his eyes the second he sees Derek freeing his hands, sighing contently before Derek can even lean over and cup his face in his hands. They’re warm from the coffee he went to get, familiar in all the safest ways. “I missed you,” Derek whispers. Derek kisses him again, on his smiling lips. Unbothered that Aaron’s too out of his mind to work his mouth, just hums back, turns further into Derek’s touch.

Recovery will not be fun. Aaron got his wish. His best friend and his boyfriend back and it hardly cost him a thing. They'll both smother him, taking turns bossing him around.

He's never been so relieved to hear them arguing this early in the morning.

[demigodreading]

A Birthday To Remember

Summary:  My final submission to @sweetprentiss​' Emily Prentiss Birthday Bingo. This square will covered the Birthday Party one.  Penelope wants to celebrate Emily's birthday in a way that Emily will remember forever. A shortie but a goodie.

Characters: Emily Prentiss, Penelope Garcia, Small mention of Tara Lewis

Relationships: Emily Prentiss x Penelope Garcia, Penemily

Word Count:  748

AO3

--------

Penelope was known for throwing large surprise parties for everyone at the BAU. They were extravagant events that perfectly captured each person’s personality. However, as the leaves changed colors and Emily’s birthday approached she was adamant that she didn’t want anything big for her birthday. Penelope knew this for her lovely raven-haired girlfriend had spent many nights buried in Pen’s sheets telling her horror stories of failed birthdays. If Em was honest she didn’t want to even acknowledge her birthday. To her, it was merely another day. She didn’t tell her lovely girlfriend this however because she knew that throwing birthday parties was one of the things Penelope loved the most. And making her smile was something Emily tried to do every day.

So when she woke up on her birthday Emily took an extra couple of minutes to refine her daily look and prepare for what she was sure was going to be an extremely long day.  She was able to do it mostly in silence because Penelope had already left for the day. When she arrived at the BAU she was immediately greeted by her favorite blonde holding a large cup of coffee and a chocolate cupcake. 

“Good morning my love! Happy Birthday!” Pen exclaimed giving Em a peck on her cheek.

Em smiled taking a sip of her perfectly made coffee, “Good morning beautiful.”

As everyone else trickled in for the day they all came into Em’s office to wish her a happy birthday. They all commented on the beautiful decorations Pen had plastered all over her room. It was a perfect combination of everything Emily adored placed in a fashion that was distinctly Penelope. For lunch Penelope bought Em’s favorite food from a local Italian restaurant that everyone ate in the conference room making jokes and telling stories of weird past birthdays. It was honestly the best thing Emily had done in a very long time. All she wanted to do was spend time with her favorite people. When lunch was wrapped up however her nerves began to build again.

Finally, she caught Tara on her way to put away files and called them into her office, “Tara, be honest with me: what does Penelope have planned for tonight?”

Tara shrugged, “Not a clue.”

“You know I sign your paychecks right,” Em threatened.

Tara laughed, “And I am being serious Prentiss. Garcia hasn’t invited me or anyone else to any big or small event. So I have no idea what she has planned.”

Em contemplated this for a moment before sending Tara on her way. When the day came to an end Pen had already snuck out of the office. This worried Em for various reasons but she tried to calm her nerves when she read the last text from her girlfriend: See you at home my love. When she got home she placed her key in the lock and braced herself for the worst. But when she did open the door she was only greeted by Penelope with Sergio in one arm and a large package in the other. 

“Surprise! Welcome home my beautiful birthday girl,” Penelope smiled.

Emily looked around, “No big surprise party?”

The blonde furrowed her brow, “You don’t like big parties. I figured you would like movie night with just us better? Was I wrong?”

To soothe her girlfriend’s worries Em placed a hard kiss on her lips, “Marry me.”

“Wait what?” Pen asked as Sergio jumped from her arms.

“Will you marry me Penelope Garcia?” Emily asked, “You are the only person who knows exactly what I need. You don’t try to change me. You let me be who I am with no regrets. You are the better half of me and I want to spend the rest of my life with you.”

Penelope smirked holding Emily close, “I thought you would never ask.” They spent the rest of the evening curled on the couch eating Emily’s favorite greasy pizza, indulging themselves on chocolate, and sipping red wine straight from the bottle. By the second movie the clock clicked past midnight and Emily could safely say that this was the best birthday that she had ever had.

She leaned over kissing Penelope on her cheek, “Thank you for the best birthday my beautiful amazing fiancée.”

Penelope squeezed Emily’s hand, “Of course Emmy. But for my birthday I am going to need the biggest most extravagant party that you can think of.”

Emily laughed, “Anything for you my love.”

[petit97]

If episode 5x22 (Still), from Castle, happened in Criminal Minds with Hotch and Prentiss, which one of them would be standing on the bomb? (Obviously, assume Hotchniss as endgame.)

[islandellis]

enjoy my first time writing in god knows how long!!! basically, Rossi helps JJ figure out what’s wrong with Emily. it’s a oneshot, and it might suck, but regardless here it is<3

[sequinsmile-x]

This is Our Place, We Make the Rules

A collection of mini-fics and one-shots of Hotchniss being domestic idiots in love.

Chapter 1 - Decorating

-x-

Hi friends,

This is going to be a little series of fluffy one shots of our fav's just doing normal, regular couple things. If there is anything in particular (e.g. yard work, doing the dishes, cooking/baking) you would like to read in this series let me know <3

-x-

Words: 1.6k

Warnings: Pregnancy, a couple curse words because of who Emily is as a person

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

“I’m bored.” 

Aaron stops what he’s doing, and looks at his wife, his eyebrow raised as he smiles at her. She’s standing in the doorway to the room he was decorating, her arms crossed over her chest, partially resting on the top of her bump. 

He carefully places the paint roller in his hand down, laying it against the tray, and walks the short distance towards Emily and slips his arms around her. He smiles as she immediately leans into him, her bump pressing into his stomach. 

“Sweetheart-”

“I know, I know,” she says, cutting him off as she tilts her head up to look at him, “I shouldn’t be in here whilst you’re painting. But you have the windows open and it’s just a few minutes,” she looks up at him with wide eyes he both hopes their son inherits and also hopes he doesn’t, because it would just mean one more person in their home he couldn’t say no to, “I’m so bored. No one will let me do anything.” 

The team were around helping them build furniture and decorate. All of them bribed with the promise of pizza afterwards, although Aaron knew they didn’t really need it. They were happy for them, excited that there would be another member of the BAU family. 

“That’s because you’re busy literally growing our son,” he quips, and she raises an eyebrow at him. A silent warning that she had developed throughout her pregnancy that let him know he was close to pissing her, and her unpredictable hormones, off. “Ok,” he concedes, kissing her forehead, “Just a few minutes.” 

She beams up at him, her smile wide enough that her cheeks ache, and she kisses him. A quick thing stamped against his lips before she takes a few steps further into the room. 

“It looks so good in here,” she says, rubbing her hand over her bump, smiling at the sensation of the baby shifting under her skin, “Hard to believe this will be his room.” 

It was the relator who sold them the house who first mentioned this room would make a good nursery. It was next door to the master bedroom and faced over the backyard instead of the, slightly louder, front of the house where the street was. The realtor had a sparkle in her eye as she winked at Emily as she said it, which had made her stomach mix with a mixture of nerves and excitement. When they first moved in they decorated it as a regular guest room, both of them too anxious to decorate it any other way, worried it would tempt fate. 

It took a little too long for Emily to get pregnant. She’d been secretly worried, fear blooming in her chest as time went on, each negative test only allowing it to flower more, her hope wilting with each passing month. The relief and joy that had spread through her in equal measure when she finally saw a plus sign were so intense she’d burst into tears. Aaron had let himself into their bathroom, having only been standing just on the other side, ready to comfort her yet again, and she handed him the test because she hadn’t been able to form the words to tell him. 

They’d settled on a sage green colour for the walls, a nice soft colour Emily could picture herself staring at as she fed her baby in the middle of the night. The furniture, that Derek and Spencer were currently building under JJ’s watchful eye, was a light oak. Emily didn’t want to wish away the early days of it all, but she was excited for when the room would be full of brightly coloured toys and books. Hunks of plastic that made noise, clearly not designed by someone who had kids themselves, strewn across the floor. 

“Just two months to go,” he replies, kissing the side of her head as he places a hand on her stomach. 

“Uh, no using the word ‘just’ unless it’s your bladder being used as a trampoline, honey,” she replies, her smile only getting wider, “By the way, Pen is currently helping Jack with his homework, and I’m fairly sure I overheard her offering to teach him how to code.” 

Aaron groans, “I think I might have to set some ground rules about that.” 

She chuckles and pulls back to look at him properly, “Don’t be a spoilsport, Dad.” 

He shakes his head lovingly at her and leans in to kiss her. His intention is for it to be a quick thing, but she deepens it, her hands trailing upwards so she can run her fingers through his hair, holding him in place. He smiles into the kiss and pulls back a little, laughing when she chases him. 

“Em, everyone is in the house.” 

“I’m not saying we should fuck in here Aaron,” she says, stamping another kiss to his lips, “There’s a little bit too much of me these days to do that anywhere other than our bed with my mountain of pillows-”

“You’re beautiful,” he interrupts, his eyebrows furrowed slightly as she comments on her size as if anyone commenting on her looks, even her, in a negative way got underneath his skin. She smiles and kisses him again, her fingernails scratching at his scalp. 

“Thank you, honey,” she replies, “I’m not saying we should do that,” she repeats, “But we could make out a little.” 

Aaron smiles and fails to hide how it gets wider by clearing his throat. He’d never been one to tell her no, and he wasn’t about to start now.

“I’m sure I can manage that.” 

She narrows her eyes, but her response is cut off as he leans in to kiss her, his hands on her lower back as he pulls her as close as he can with her bump between them. She allows herself to get lost in him, in the way his hands shift up to her face. It never failed to amaze her how he would hold her like she was made of something delicate, his thumbs pressing into her skin where her dimples lay, as if they’d been made precisely for this. 

They lose track of time, the few minutes she’d claimed she’d interrupt him for passing them by as they explore each other in a way they had done countless times. He finally pulls back from here when he hears a creak on the staircase, the one floorboard he would never get fixed because it alerted him to someone being on the stairs. He smiles as she looks disappointed, her nose scrunching up slightly and he steps away. 

“Someone is coming upstairs sweetheart.” 

She pouts, something she would deny later, and steps backwards, her hand slipping from his ass the first moment she realised it had been there in the first place. 

“We’re done with the crib, but…” Derek drifts off as he looks at them, a smirk spreading over his face as he looks back and forth between the two of them. 

“What are you staring at, Derek?” Emily asks, frowning at him. 

“You two were making out in here weren’t you?” He asks, his grin widening, 

Emily isn’t sure she can explain why she feels embarrassed, why she can feel her cheeks burning, but she does, “No.” 

“What’s going on in here?” Dave asks, appearing behind Derek, the rest of the team also pouring into the room. “Were you two making out again?”

Emily groans, but before she can reply Spencer is speaking, his mouth working faster than his brain. 

“Based on the fact that Emily’s pupils are slightly dilated, and she’s breathing even heavier than she usually is at the moment, and the uh….handprint on Hotch’s back pocket, it’s fair to assume they have been.” 

“The handprint?” Aaron says, turning to look at the back of his jeans, sighing when he sees a handprint in the same paint he’d been using all afternoon right over the material of his jeans. He reaches for his wife’s wrist and turns her hand over, revealing the sage green paint on her skin, “When did that happen?” 

“I don’t know,” she replies, smirking as she shrugs at him, “I was distracted.” 

“Gross, Em,” Derek says, gaining their attention, and she rolls her eyes at the slightly disgusted look on their faces. 

“You do realise I’m pregnant, right?” she quips, raising her eyebrow at them, “We’ve kissed before. We’ve done more than kiss-”

“Ok, Princess, you’ve made your point,” Derek cuts over her, placing his hand on Spencer's shoulder as he goes to guide him from the room, “Let’s get you out of here kid before they scar you even more than they did at the holiday party last year.” 

“That wasn’t our fault, Pen spiked the punch,” Emily calls after them, exchanging a smile with JJ as the team files out, leaving the two of them alone once again. Emily turns to look at her husband, “Sorry I ruined your jeans.” 

“Nothing to apologise for, sweetheart,” he says, still gently gripping her wrist, “We should go wash this off your hand though.” 

She lets him lead her out of the room, but she frowns, “I can wash my own hands, Aaron.” 

“I know,” he replies, kissing the side of her head, “But, if we go to our ensuite, we’ll be closer to our bed and your mountain of pillows.” 

She smiles, biting her lower lip as her body tingles, a shiver going down her spine that she knows her husband won’t have missed. 

“I love the way you think.” 

-x-

Tag list:

@ssa-sparks, @lukeclvez, @lyds102, @glockleveledatyourcrotch, @hotchnissenthusiast, @danadeservesadrink, @ssamorganhotchner, @emilyprentissisgod, @notagentprentiss, @freesiasandfics, @emilyshotchniss, @thecharmingart, @paulitalblond, @hancydrewfan, @camille093, @whitecrossgirl, @moonlight-2-6, @rawr-jess, @florenceringtonthethird, @jareauswife, @ms-black-a, @beebeelank, @aubreyprc, @zipzapboingg, @psychopath-at-heart, @criminalmindsgonewrong, @fionaloover, @kinqslcys, @prentissinred, @ccmattis-22, @denvivale317, @thrindis, @hotchsguccitie, @cmfouatslota77, @alexblakegf, @aliensaurusrex, @prentissxhotch, @emobabeyy, @victoiregranger, @stormyweatherth, @wanderingdreamer009, @ssablackbird, @luhwithah, @lex13cm, @prentiss-theorem, @dont-emily-me, @mrs-ssa-hotch, @jocyycreation, @itsmytimetoodream, @hotchnissgroupie

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[stunudo]

Along This Long and Winding Path

A Criminal Minds Fan-fiction

Featuring: Spencer Reid x the BAU team

Setting: Season 14

A/N: This is day two of my 1k Follower Grab Bag of Fics. But when I saw the formula for this day I knew it was going to be an angsty mess. Reid with Team Unity/ Wheels Up in the future. This is one way I could see the cliffhanger of season 13 being resolved, you all will probably hate me. Also, this somehow turned into a case fic. xoxo Stu

Spencer Reid had a barrel of a gun pointed at his head, his gun pointed back. If he shot her, Penelope could die, if he didn’t he would be taken prisoner into the very cult that had kidnapped his friend and fellow genius. Though the decision appeared to be containing two options, his mind began factoring all the variables, giving seemingly endless possibilities. Penelope’s voice was muffled behind the car window, “Shoot her Reid!”

Penelope Garcia, a peace loving and nurturing analyst was asking him to shoot someone. She had saved him all those years ago in a Texas hospital room, he wouldn’t let her be in danger now. Protocol be damned. He holstered his sidearm and surrendered. Suddenly the dream faded away and he woke up to face a new day.

Chief Emily Prentiss had been sitting silently at her desk for an indeterminate amount of time. There were cases piling up and there were reports due out, but her mind and her attentions kept floating off. Her sense of duty had be quelled these past few months leaving room for distraction that only masked guilt. There was a knock at the door, JJ’s cool blue eyes tried to hide her empathy.

“Kevin sent us a text to meet in the round table room,” JJ stayed in the doorway. “You ready?”

“Of course, sorry about that,” Emily closed the folder that was open on her desk, one she hadn’t even realized she had opened and stood to follow JJ to the conference room.

Kevin Lynch stood awkwardly in front of the group of profilers until JJ and Emily were seated amongst them.

“Alright, it’s a bad one,” he started, his joker grin lost on his swallowing features. “We’ve got seven sets of human remains found in the woods outside of Boise. There has been flooding in the area and that is why they were discovered. Local sheriff’s office puts the most recent body at six months, which is still tentative given the state they were in.”

“So we need to determine if there is still a threat and profile from there,” Emily added, glancing at the evidence photos on her tablet.

David Rossi was in the market for some real estate in the Bay Area, looking forward to spending more time with Kai and Joy now that he was retired. His wives and his retirements came in threes, apparently. He unconsciously checked his phone as the realtor showed him through the third overpriced yet charming  house of the day. He couldn’t turn off his agent senses, but he also didn’t want to interrupt a case. He shut off the phone to stop himself from scratching the itch.

“Mr. Rossi, can you believe this kitchen?!” The realtor gushed.

Spencer Reid made his way to the day room, having slept through breakfast. He didn’t mind, he could have a cup of coffee from the nurses station, but all the sugar in the place couldn’t make it satisfactory. He found Thomas at the card table, just like every other day and silently sat down.

“Didn’t think you’d make it out today,” the man’s gruff voice disproportionate to his small frame.

Spencer’s voice was soft and slow to reply, “Some days are worse than others. Did you still want to play?”

“Why not, let them wait on us for group for once,” Thomas grinned his crooked teeth and began setting up the chess pieces.

The roads were nearly impassable and yet the BAU got to the crime scene before noon. Simmons and Alvez wore backpacks while JJ and Emily had utility belts on. Tara thought they all looked ridiculous and was instead taking pictures with her phone to send to Kevin. The bodies had been left in the position they had been found until their arrival. The mud making any close inspection nearly impossible.

“How long until we can get them to the coroners’, Agent Prentiss?”

“We don’t need much longer, given the state of the area we would be more harm than good at this point,” she explained.

“JJ, come look at this,” Alvez was crouched down over the body of a young woman.

“Those look like defensive wounds,” JJ was confused.

“She was clawing at herself like that?” Luke suggested.

“The unsub may have been using a burning agent or some kind of hallucinogen,” Tara leaned over to look at the most in tact body. Emily and Matt both shared a look when the last word was said.

Group was the hardest part of his day, but also the one he looked forward to the most. It wasn’t therapy, but it was conducted like it. It gave the staff an excuse to get everyone together before lunch was served and also brought the long term residents some socialization. The quickly rehabilitated patients were the most talkative during the sessions, but Spencer made it a point to seek out those who were less keen to share.

The introverts that didn’t seek the recognition or the attention of the group were his people, but that didn’t stop him from focusing in on one extrovert’s contributions day after day.

“How is everyone today?” She grinned her lopsided grin from her chair. “I know the weather is all over the place right now, but the courtyard is starting to see some fresh growth. You guys should really check it out.” Penelope saw some hands raise and she pointed with her right hand to pick on the next person to share.

Spencer and Thomas had entered the cafeteria, Thomas’s walker was sliding on tennis balls with faces drawn on them. His bright eyes watched Penelope as she giggled at the story someone had shared.

“Prentiss, the id on this victim flagged in Vicap,” Simmons handed Emily his tablet with Kevin’s email.

“Carol Murray. She was an unsub?”

“A victim, from Tallahassee.” Simmons pointed to the information on the screen.

“That’s a long way to move a body,” Prentiss added.

“According to the file, we worked the case,” Simmons.

“Jayge, do you remember a case in Florida, apparently there was a string of shootings for organ donors?”

“Yeah, what’s it have to do with these bodies in Idaho?” JJ’s face was in disbelief.

“One of the bodies was a victim you and Morgan saved on the case.”

“So, we going to talk today, or are you going to keep watching me during Group?” Penelope had wheeled over to him during lunch.

“Garcia,” Spencer whispered, giving her a dejected look.

“Oh, don’t Garcia me, Reid,” Penelope’s voice was nearly back to normal, her speech pathologist was thrilled with her progress. What Spencer hadn’t warned her therapist was how much natural practice she had talking.

“I know what you’re going to say, but I am not ready to hear it,” Spencer pushed his instant mashed potatoes around his tray.

“When will you be ready? When I am back to work? When I can strut around in platforms again?” Penelope clutched his forearm. “Hey, look at me Boy Wonder.”

Spencer sniffled and patted her manicured hand on his arm.

“Those things might not happen--”

“Penelope, you are making great progress--” She put her finger on his interrupting mouth.

“They might not happen, so just in case. I forgive you. You, Spencer Reid, who did precisely as I asked and shot that traitor on the spot.”

“Penelope, I can’t accept that, not yet.”

“Well, tough, because I am going to tell you every chance I get.” She grinned at him, shaking her head with attitude.

Emily stood in the conference room at the local police station, she stretched her neck before addressing the team.

“They’re sure?” she asked Alvez who had just returned from the coroners’ office.

“There was no trace of anything in their systems, but some of these bodies are beyond evidence collection.” Alvez explained.

“If this is who we think it was, there wouldn’t be traces. The question is, why here? Wouldn’t he want us to know he was targeting the victims we saved?” Simmons asked.

“We need to call Spence, this can’t just be a coincidence.” JJ crossed her arms in her folding chair.

“Reid has refused to consult in the past, what makes you think he would help now?” Simmons asked in a low tone, he was hopefully curious.

“You tell him or Penelope it’s Scratch and they will be here or the bat cave.” JJ was staring down Emily’s ‘we shouldn’t be having this conversation face’.

Emily’s head snapped back and it hung there staring at the stained drop ceiling tiles. “I do not want Garcia on this, not yet.” Emily gave in.

Spencer’s afternoons were full; he saw some patients twice a week and others only once. The road to his personal recovery started with getting his therapist’s license. He wanted to be able to approach his trauma and doubts from every angle, it led him to helping others accept and process their physical injuries and restrictions. Garcia called him her caretaker, when she wasn’t flirting with the orderlies.

She was one of a handful of patients he didn’t see, ensuring he wasn’t blurring any lines between who were his patients and who were his friends. She wouldn’t have cooperated if he had tried to make an appointment with her in the first place. He was taking notes over the last ten minutes of the hour for his final patient of the day, when the landline phone rang on his desk. He had forgotten he had a direct line at the facility.

“Dr. Reid?” He answered.

“Spence?” JJ’s voice, of course they had her call him this time.

“JJ, how did Henry’s potato battery go?” He was ignoring the professional urgency in her voice.

“Uh, fine, he wants to try other food next. But, that’s not why I called.” Spencer’s mouth ticked, he thought for two seconds before biting his lips and exhaling.

“What’s the case?”

“You’re not going to like it.”

“As long as it is not a cult, I may be willing to help you out.”

“We think we found one of Scratch’s contingencies.”

“Where should I meet you?”

Penelope grew alarmed when Spencer didn’t say goodbye for the day, he always slipped her a Dum-Dum or a new trinket going into the weekend. He claimed it was for her muscle control, but she knew it was because he loved her. Which meant that his disappearing act was only because he had been taken away by someone or something else he loved.

Diana and the team battled inside her mind for the bigger dangers, she quickly wheeled back to her room and got her tablet out to Skype Kevin at Headquarters. His look of shock and dismay at her timing told Penelope she was on the right track.

“Penelope, hi, so nice to see your face,” Kevin gave his fakest smile ever.

“So, Kevin, remembering that I have, in fact, seen you naked. How long is it going to take to convince you to send me whatever my babies are working on?”

“Penelope, you are on medical leave, I am legally not allowed to share work with you or jail, all of us, jail.”

“Yeah, but think of all the juicy details I could share about you on the interwebs,” Penelope cooed.

“You’re hacking in remotely? How are you even doing this?! Not to mention that facility doesn’t have the speed for this?!”

JJ and Alvez met Spencer at the airport, Luke drove while JJ went over their findings. Spencer felt oddly comfortable in the standard issued SUV, despite not having been in the field for months.

“So your two theories are this was Scratch working a different angle or an unsub who was specifically targeting the BAU?”

“Pretty much.” Luke turned into the hotel’s parking lot.

“Have all of the victims been identified?”

“All but two, dental records on missing persons are taking a while,” JJ shrugged, clearly Kevin was a not Penelope.

“And those bodies that were identified all had ties to the team?”

“Uh, yes, though some of them are three degrees from Kevin Bacon, if you know what I’m saying.” Alvez added, sliding from the driver’s seat.

Spencer’s face constricted in to confusion, “The victims are tied to an actor?”

“No, Spence, it’s a pop culture game, ignore Luke.” JJ clucked, it was good to have his innocent side resurface after so long. They headed into the hotel for the night.

In the morning, there was word that the park rangers in the next county found a body near a cabin. Simmons and JJ went to check it out for connections. Meanwhile, Alvez, Lewis and Prentiss went over the victimology for the bodies from the mass grave with Spencer. Emily felt him doubting them and she couldn’t help but hold out hope he was right.

“Besides Carol Murray’s scratches, are there any other indicator of the use of fear or self harm?”

“Bernice De La Pena had defensive wounds, but nothing as extensive as Carol Murray’s.” Tara answered as Emily handed over photographs of the arms on the other woman.

Alvez’s phone rang, “Uh-oh, you too?! Let me put you on speaker.”

“Hey guys,” Rossi’s voice called out into the meeting space.

“Rossi?” Spencer’s voice hitched in surprise.

“Is that the kid, I knew something was up. What you got Emily?”

“Possible Scratch side attack, we’re probably jumping to the wrong conclusions, but we couldn’t be too careful.”

“That must be why Garcia left me those ominous messages. Anything you need from me?”

“Rossi, do the names Bernice De La Pena, Courtney Sanders and Stephanie Marx mean anything to you?” Tara recited from the list of identified victims.

“Not off the top of my head, should they?”

“One of the victims was a previous save for us, Carol Murray, but we aren’t seeing direct connections.” Emily continued.

“That’s why you brought in Reid?”

“One of many reasons,” Emily smirked at Spencer, he looked away. She held the phone, “We should get back at it, but we’ll keep you posted.”

“See ya, Rossi,” Luke took his phone back. “So, what are you seeing Reid?”

The body that JJ and Simmons were sent to inspect had clearly died of an animal attack, but the sheriff insisted they check out the cabin too. With little progress where the team was holed up, they decided to entertain the locals with a walk through. It was a simple, yet well decorated vacation home, it had running water, generator procured electricity, and a wood burning furnace. Matt glanced at JJ and they followed the deputy around back to the cellar.

Inside they knew they had made the right decision, there was no other word for it’s purpose than torture room. There were photographs of various women and animals pinned in different positions. JJ swallowed hard as she spotted Carol Murray’s face in unimaginable pain. Matt was already on his phone to Prentiss.

Emily closed her eyes, “Oh, thank God.”

Alvez and Spencer waited until she was done with the call before realizing their worst fears were unfulfilled. Mr. Scratch was not behind these murders.

“Spencer, I’m really sorry that we dragged you all the way out here,” Emily explained as she started gathering her things to head to the cabin and continue the investigation. “Luke will take you to the airport from here.”

“The case isn’t solved, Emily. If it’s alright with you, I would like to finish the profile. Especially since the unsub remains at large.” Spencer replied, he didn’t need to be rescued or sent away. Luke grinned, but tried to hide it as Emily’s face melted into secretively pleased.

“It’s good to have you back, SSA Reid,” Chief Prentiss nodded.

“It’s still Doctor, Emily,” Spencer smirked as he secured his messenger bag over his shoulder.

“You’re damn right it is,” Tara’s nose scrunched up and she patted him on the back.

The elevator inside FBI Headquarters still smelled the same, Spencer noticed as he was wedged beside his former teammates. They had registered him as a consultant with special clearance if he ever changed his mind about leaving the job. So with his special pass around his neck he stepped out into the familiar bullpen. It looked the same, even his desk remained untouched in his absence, the fact caused him mixed emotions.

Kevin came storming from the tech office in a near fit, “Chief Prentiss, hi, uh, I just want it, on the record, that there was nothing I could do. I couldn’t restrain her, she’s already partially paralyzed.”

Slowly Penelope made her appearance, “Oh boo-who, Tech Boy here couldn’t keep me from making sure my team was alright. Emily is not going to slap you with a sanction, Kevin.”

“But I could slap you with one,” Emily threatened.

“Moi?”

“Yeah, violating medical leave and hacking government servers,” Emily suggested, playing tough.

Everyone let the scene play out, though they were all bursting with laughter. JJ looked away while Luke and Simmons swallowed it and stood tall. Tara was as ever, unflinching. Spencer’s face was confused, “How did you even get released from the Rehab Facility?!”

“Oh, sweet, pure, Reid. Mama has her ways,” Penelope sighed. “Besides, there are medical transport vehicles available on Uber and Lyft. I got a ride in no time. Now, whose driving, because Rossi is waiting on us with the kettle on.”

Spencer wished he had the unstoppable optimism of Penelope, but when he looked around the room at the faces of the BAU team he felt nearly hopeful. His decision to walk away from this group of unwavering loyal and dedicated people was not one of selfishness. He regretted it and was certain of it in equal measure. His choices had caused his friends almost insurmountable pain over the past few years, had cost Stephen Walker his life and Penelope her ability to walk. His decision to teach and volunteer at Penelope’s Rehabilitation Facility had been the first choice he was proud of in a very long time. However much an act of penance it was.

The food was phenomenal, as always and the conversation was kept light. Rossi had some great stories about Kai and trying to find a place to live in the most ridiculous real estate market in the country. Penelope was beaming with her freedom and friend time. Tara and Luke were bantering as always, apparently the last blind date he had set her up with was a nightmare.

Emily approached him as JJ and Matt ducked out to head back to their families. “You know, you could work part time, like Tara.”

“Emily, I would have to be reinstated and I don’t think I am ready to have my gun back on my hip, just yet.”

“So what you’re saying is maybe?” There was a devilish glint to her eye.

“What? No, stop putting words in my mouth.” He smirked, she had him on the ropes and he knew it.

‘We don’t always have a choice in what happens to us, but you know what sometimes we do. And right now, I’m just asking you to make the choice to stay.” Emily said back verbatim.

“Fight for us, fight for the team.” Spencer continued, his voice a whisper as he recalled those words pouring from his own heart.

“It’s what we do.” Emily finished. “I know you’re not ready. You won’t even let Penelope forgive you. But, don’t give up on us, just yet. We haven’t given up on you.”

Spencer sighed, his tears burning as she looked back at him with the years of cases and personal loss behind them. “Okay.”

@dontshootmespence @illegalcerebral @literallyprentissstwin @cherry-loves-fanfic @mentallydatingspencerreid

[sequinsmile-x]

I love this, and you, so so much ❤️

Have Yourself Another Dream

A/N - Well hello, friends. It's been quite a while. Miss you all. This wasn't planned ... but somehow it just kind of found its way into creation. I'm rusty ... but I've been watching s5 all over again and dealing with some tough stuff so ... so here it is. All my love to Vic & Kirby for their unwavering support and dealing with me day in and day out. TW for discussions of and references to abortion and infertility themes throughout. I hope you enjoy - thank you for reading! 💓

It starts in the most inopportune of moments - in the middle of a police station in Princeton New Jersey, of all places. They’re giving a profile to two dozen weary police officers terrorized by an arsonist precisely every four days, and the clock is ticking close to the end of day two. They’ve been stretched thin by the case, running on little sleep and even fewer credible leads, yet Emily almost doesn’t mind the exhaustion this time around. It’s a distraction from the what if, and the countdown to the date she’d cemented in her mind, the one that might just mean it worked this time around - that yet another month of failure won’t pass them by. Enough time has passed that she can’t ignore the tiny voice in her head, the one that tells her something is wrong - something has to be wrong.

At first the pain is so subtle Emily wonders if she imagined it - but then it happens again -the all too familiar twinge of a single cramp somewhere too deep to reach that radiates through her abdomen before it’s gone - a fleeting moment, nothing more. And yet, she knows what’s to come now as the tentative, fragile hope she’d built over the last few days disintegrates into nothing within a matter of seconds. Of course. Emily fights the grimace that darkens her face, willing herself to keep up with the pace of the practiced back and forth they’ve mastered over the years. She wills herself not to look at Aaron, who is still speaking confidently only feet away from her. I can’t disappoint him again. The sound of his baritone voice reverberating through the room is enough to make her head spin. I was a fool to think this month might be it, she thinks as the same pain returns with a little more intensity this time, accompanied by the tell-tale sticky sensation of blood between her legs- a vicious proof that once again she failed.

_____________

It’s been 10 months since they started trying- the decision wasn’t been made lightly or without a lot of thought. But it feels like the next natural step, following a backyard wedding hosted by Dave a year ago, and a few innocent, yet inquisitive comments from Jack along the way. “I’d be a great big brother, Daddy. If Dylan can be a big brother, so can I.” Emily lets Aaron handle that one on his own one early morning before school. She smiles into her coffee mug as Aaron amusedly listens to Jack rattle off all the reasons he’d be a better big brother than his best friend in second grade. But she sees the look that passes over her now husband’s face - something she immediately recognized as longing - as if he had the same thoughts as his son, that he’d been thinking about it too. She would be lying if she hadn’t felt the same way. Her hope to one day be a mother was something she’d always kept safe in the back of her mind, something she’d quietly hoped for but it never felt right, a secret wish she could never quite vocalize. At least not until now. She knows the odds weren’t on her side - the likelihood of success steeply declining for women approaching 40 and even less afterward - but maybe they’d have a chance after all. Maybe, if they were lucky and the stars aligned.

“I want to try, Aaron,” Emily tells him later that night, only after she’d read the same page of her book three times, unable to concentrate on it any longer until she gets it off her chest. “I’ve been thinking about it and I want to start trying.”

“You mean -” He looks up from his own book, wide eyed. “You mean for a baby?” 

She rolls her eyes. “No, Aaron. To run a marathon.” For a moment, it looks like he believes her and she stares at him incredulously. “Yes for a baby.” Emily swats him on the shoulder with her book. “What the hell did you think I was talking about?” 

“I didn’t want to assume!” He laughs, feigning hurt and rubbing his shoulder. “You could take someone out with that thing.” But he’s smiling, it reaches his eyes and he looks so damn happy it makes her heart swell. It’s the only encouragement he needs; Emily grins as he moves them both so his body covers hers, her eyes closing as his lips find her neck, his hand deftly working the waistband of her yoga pants. 

Maybe this could work out after all. 

_____________

The first few months were actually fun, a giddy type of hopeful excitement new to them both. The possibility of pregnancy was never far from their thoughts. Haley had gotten pregnant almost too easily- a “first time unicorn,” as she’d joked to Aaron years ago - yet Emily’s negative tests didn’t feel alarming right away. “Next month,” they assured one another with an encouraging smile, the promise of what another four weeks might bring. Mentions of babies began to work their way into their daily conversations - weighing the pros and cons of a larger house to accommodate their growing family, discussions of how they’d tell Jack and then the team - and that hope carried them through the early days of unsuccessful trying. 

But six months brought a newfound frustration, shortly followed by the eight month mark with an overwhelming sense of defeat. It’s how Emily finds herself sobbing in the bathroom clutching a tiny stick with only one stark pink line one morning before work. It’s where Aaron finds her, still in the clothes she slept in the night before, uncharacteristically slumped against the bathtub with tear stained cheeks and red eyes. He quickly pulls her into his arms, his lips pressed to the top of her head. It only makes her cry harder. “You didn’t have to come up here.” 

“I could hear you from downstairs, Em,” he says, chest tightening at how she stiffens in his embrace, mortified at the thought someone might hear her break. “Jack left awhile ago.” 

“It’s like you can read my mind.” Her face flushes with shame, her cheek hot against the fabric of his shirt. “I didn’t want him to hear me … and I couldn’t bring myself to come downstairs like this.” 

“He’s excited for his field trip. He didn’t even notice. Dylan’s mom picked him up almost forty-five minutes ago. They had to be at school early.”

The moment he says it he regrets it - the mention of Jack’s friend’s mom, heavily pregnant with her third baby, brings a few more unspilled tears welling in her eyes and threatening to spill. Aaron curses himself inwardly for bringing it up. She chokes back a sob and shakes her head. 

“Talk to me, Emily. Please,” he murmurs to her, even though there was very little to say. A test was a cruel dichotomy - there were no what ifs today. Either she was pregnant, or she wasn’t. And today, she wasn’t. He swallows his own disappointment, at this point desperate to take some of the burden off of his wife and shoulder some of it himself. So far, all he’s done is make it worse. 

“It’s negative,” she coughs through tears, showing him the stick after giving it another glance as if a second line will miraculously appear, as if she missed it because she stared at it for too long. “I knew it would be.”  

“It could just be too early,” Aaron attempts with as much optimism as he can, but she shakes her head sadly. 

“14 days is pretty definitive, Aaron. We both know that by now. But I don’t understand what we’re doing wrong,” she sniffles into his chest, leaving mascara-streaked stains all over his white dress shirt. “I’m doing everything that stupid app tells me to do… logging everything, tracking my period and every other goddamn thing we do.” 

“It’s an app, sweetheart. It doesn’t actually know what’s going on in your body. Maybe we didn’t hit the right days this month. You never know.” He’s said all of this before and he’s running out of new things to say with each passing month. “We just have to keep trying.” 

“Well it’s all I’ve got right now,” she snaps, the frustration and pain is laced in her tone, raw and real, and there isn’t a single thing he can do or say to make any of this easier for her. “I’m tired of peeing on sticks and waking up to take my temperature at the same damn time every morning and planning sex around peeing on stupid sticks and all this bullshit.” Emily hiccups through tears, her fingers tightly wound around Aaron’s now very wrinkled suit jacket. “I don’t understand what we’re doing wrong. I know I’m older … but 37 isn’t that old. Some women get pregnant well into their forties.”   

“We’re not doing anything wrong, Em,” he says soothingly, tracing patterns on her back with his fingertips. “Sometimes it just … takes some time. Your doctor said -”

“I know what she said, Aaron. I was the one at the damn appointment, remember?. But I just have this feeling that something isn’t right.” Her body heaves with effort to take a full deep breath. 

He knows there’s more she isn’t saying - the way her lip is pulled between her teeth, the heaviness of her words, the classic roll of her eyes. 

“Tell me,” he coaxes, walking the razor-thin line of pushing her too far. He knows her too well by now what that would bring. 

“I’m worried that It’s me.” Her voice is cracked, fractured with the anxiety that’s settled itself deeply in her heart over the last few months. That I’m the reason it hasn’t happened yet… or maybe why it never will.” With that she jerks out of his embrace with an awkward shuffle, the admittance finally out in the open. She curls into a tight ball beside him, arms wrapping around her knees, pointedly looking away from him. 

“What do you mean, sweetheart?” He attempts to narrow the space between them, but Emily shifts even further away, practically burying herself into the corner of the bathroom. Aaron has to hide the hurt that wraps itself insidiously around his chest, so he settles for taking her hand in his and giving it a squeeze. It’s how they stay for a few long moments until the last of her tears cease and they’re left with the quiet disappointment of yet another month gone by. 

“I wonder,” she whispers almost inaudibly, still unable to make eye contact with him. “That this is what I get for what I did…” she trails off, already ashamed at her own admission.

“What you did?” He asks, genuinely confused, reaching over to gently lifting her chin with his thumb. “What are you talking about?” 

“In Rome, Aaron.” 

Rome. That’s when it clicks. 

Rome isn’t something they talk of often - but he knows immediately where her mind is going, the blame she’ll undoubtedly pin on herself for something that happened over twenty years ago when she was a teenager without another option. It was an impossible decision, one without an easy answer. He’s seen the lasting impact it had on her over the years, that no matter how much time passed, it was very much something she carried with her. He sees it in the way she interacted with Jack, with cases they had involving children. It was very much an unhealed wound, and this whole process has ripped it open, fresh and gaping and raw. “No, Em,” Aaron says softly, tucking pieces of her hair out of her eyes. “That has nothing to do with this.” 

“It’s karma, Aaron.” Emily sighs resignedly with an inelegant sniffle. “It’s the only thing that makes sense.” 

“No, sweetheart. It’s not.” He searches her eyes with his own, as if she might believe him. “Please don’t let yourself go down that slope. That’s not going to help you get pregnant.” He expects her to turn away from him completely, but instead she slides back closer to him, settling against him uneasily, exhausted from crying.  

“You don’t know that,” she says, and he hates the sound of despair in her voice. 

“You don’t know it either,” he quips. “Stop making chaos in your mind. It’s not going to make any of this easier.” 

She rests her head on his chest until most of the tears have dried and the congestion in her head started to loosen. She knows her face must be a swollen mess by now, puffy and red from all the tears. “There’s all kinds of things that can happen because of …complications with that. And it’s been so long …who knows what could be going wrong in there. Or if they did it right …” One tear slips out of her eye; Aaron swipes it away with his thumb.

“You can’t go down that path, Emily. You’re going to make yourself crazy if all you think of are what if’s and what’s going wrong. We have to take this day by day. There are no easy answers, no easy fixes.” 

“But what do we do, Aaron?” She whispers. “What do we do if this doesn’t work?” The truth is, she knows what they’ll have to do. She isn’t a fool to what comes next. She’s done the research late at night when he’s sound asleep beside her - chances and statistics, stories of successful outcomes and the ones of those who weren’t so lucky. An entire battery of invasive tests awaits her, hours consulting with a team of doctors vying for success rates, more procedures and decisions and the cruelty of waiting. Not to mention the thousands of dollars gone without a sure chance they’d take home a baby at the end. It’s more than overwhelming - it’s consuming, and terrifying. Thinking about it makes her stomach roil. Emily stares at her lap. 

“We have options, Em. Just because we haven’t taken any of them doesn’t mean they don’t exist. We aren’t the only ones dealing with this.”  

She sighs heavily, wiping at her face with a tissue. “I know that. But I’m not ready to go down that route yet, Aaron. I … I can’t explain it. But I’m just not ready.” 

“That’s fine, sweetheart. You don’t have to be ready, or explain anything,” he says patiently. “Do you want to keep trying? We can take a break this month, if that’s what you want.”

Emily shakes her head, weighing the lesser of two evils. The definition of insanity, she thinks, is doing the same thing over and over and expecting the same result. But what other choice did they have? “I want to keep trying,” she insists quietly as she sits upright, her head spinning. 

“Then let’s give it two more months,” Aaron says rationally.. “If you aren’t pregnant by then, we’ll make an appointment at the fertility clinic.” He pauses for a moment before adding, “Luckily there are at least 10 in a five mile radius of us.”

That elicits the smallest snort of acknowledgement. “I guess that’s one of the perks of living around here,” Emily complains as Aaron holds out a hand to pull her to her feet and into their bedroom. “And it’ll only take two hours in rush hour traffic to get there.” On their bed is the suit she laid out for that day, before any of this began. “I just need a few minutes.” 

He checks his watch, hiding his frown. “Be quick. We’re going to be late. Garcia will send a search party for us if we aren’t in on time. We were late twice last week,” he reminds her with a wink.

“If I remember correctly,” Emily laughs for the first time that morning, “That was your idea.” 

_____________

“Agent Prentiss will take it from here.”

Emily is somewhere far away from reality when she hears Aaron say her name, calling her back to the present. And when she catches his eye from the corner of her own, the look Aaron throws her way tells her immediately he knows something is wrong. He doesn’t take his eyes off her, his gaze piercing and concerned. Most days she hates that he knows her so well. 

Yet she doesn’t miss a beat, rattling off her contribution to their unsub’s lengthy profile with ease, as if discussing the motivations of an arsonist was second nature to her. After so many years, it might just be. Yet I can’t seem to do the one thing I’m biologically designed to do, Emily thinks with an overwhelming feeling of disdain as she outlines their carefully-drawn theories of motivation. She patiently answers a series of pressing questions from the officers before thankfully Morgan takes over a few long minutes later. She’s relieved to not have the attention of the entire room anymore, except now the pain has intensified quickly. It’s a reminder of the physical emptiness within her body, emptiness where something the size of a single poppyseed might be. She pushes it out of her mind and instead thinks longingly of the bottle of ibuprofen in her go-bag miles away at the hotel - she tossed it in on afterthought, just in case, fiercely hoping she wouldn’t need to use it.

It ended up being nothing but wishful thinking.

______________

It’s a long day that seemingly has no end until she’s alone again in yet another hotel room, day three looming ahead in a mere few hours. Aaron insisted they all retire for the night, with the intention of starting over again early in the morning with fresh eyes. He sends the team back first ahead of him, under the guise of meeting with the Princeton Police Chief one more time before calling it quits himself. 

Everyone is happy to oblige, but Emily knows him better than that by now - it’s also to give her a chance to settle in first, to give her space and some time to process her thoughts. Aaron didn’t have to ask what’d happened - somehow he just knew, like he always did. “I’ll be back in about an hour,” he’d told her before she got into the passenger side of an SUV Rossi was driving. “But I’ll text you when I leave.” He leaves it at that - no pushing, no questions. Nothing but a message less than five minutes later - I love you. It’s going to be okay. 

The hotel in Princeton is one of the nicer ones they’ve stayed at as of late, and she takes advantage of the fancy shower, letting the hot spray pour over her back, the steam alleviating some of the still persistent cramps that haven’t let up at all just yet. The water is tinged red at her feet; the sight of it makes her stomach churn. But once her hair is washed and toweled off and she’s changed into something a lot more comfortable than a suit, Emily feels a little bit more human. And when Aaron finally makes it back almost an hour after that, she’s nestled in bed, intensely focused on an episode of Love Island. Distraction at its finest.

“Do you even know what’s happening on this show?” Aaron asks when he sees what she’s watching, an amused grin on his face as he drapes his suit jacket over one of the chairs. “What is this show even about?” 

“I’m not entirely sure,” Emily ponders, eyes still glued to the television. “But it’s pretty entertaining nonetheless.” She can’t bring herself to tell him what’s on her mind - the disappointment of what’s past, the fear of what’s ahead. She wants to live in a bubble of oblivion for a few more minutes. 

“If you say so.” The next article of clothing to go is his tie, followed by his shoes and dress shirt. “I’m going to take a shower.” He drops a kiss on the top of her head on his way, a lingering touch of his hand against hers. 

______________

“I should tell the others one of your secret vices is trashy television.”“They’d get a kick out of it,” Aaron tells her as he gets into bed beside her. “Especially Dave.” He has to find a way to break the silence that’s fallen over them, a heaviness in the air that lingers. 

“They probably know already. I think JJ told them,” Emily says with a soft laugh and mutes the TV. “I’m glad you’re back.” She presses herself against him, his body still warm from the shower. “Everything went okay back there?” She gets a whiff of his soap, the woodsy scent that will always make her think of him. By now it calms her, reminds her that he’s there, that he’s not going anywhere.

“Yeah. Tomorrow will be a long day.” Aaron wraps an arm around her, pulls her close to his side. He’s not thinking at all about the case now, just his wife beside him. “Are you okay?” He rests the other hand on her abdomen, gently pressing where the cramps had been the worst. “Did the ibuprofen kick in?” 

Emily nods, sighing with relief into his chest as he applies light pressure with his hand. Of course he would know the exact spot that hurt the most. “Yeah. Took long enough. How’d you figure it out?” 

“Just had a feeling.” He kisses her temple. “I know you pretty well by now, you know.” 

“Well you are a profiler. I’d be concerned if you didn’t.” she retorts dryly, leaning into him. 

There’s thinly veiled anger and apprehension in her voice, a sense of bitterness coupled with loneliness she never anticipated. It’s too many emotions all at once - and none of them feel remotely good. “I’m tired of feeling so empty all the time, Aaron. I’m tired of constantly being upset about this.” 

“I think,” Aaron says slowly, calmly. “I think we should make the call when we get home, Em.” He cups her chin in his hand, gently thumbing her cheek. “We’ll go together.” 

“In a way,” Emily whispers. “I’m almost afraid to find out what could be wrong with me.” 

“It could be me,” Aaron muses back. “This process requires two of us, you know. I’m half of the equation.” 

She laughs, albeit bitterly. “I highly doubt that, Aaron.” 

“You never know,” he offers again, just as patient as before. “I very well could be. We don’t have all the answers, Emily. That’s what the doctors are for, you know.” 

“We might never have answers,” she says sadly, insecurity flooding her face. “Sometimes it just … doesn’t happen. There are couples who never conceive. Even with help. They try for years and it -” 

“Stop jumping to conclusions, Sweetheart.” Aaron says, clasping her hands in his. “You can’t make decisions about information you don’t have.” She opens her mouth to argue, but he presses a finger to her lips. “That’s it. No more negative talk for tonight.” He flips the light as if to prove a point and the room is flooded in darkness. 

Emily grumbles but obliges as she curls her body against him needing to be as close to him as possible. “I’m scared, Aaron” she finally admits. The truth makes her feel weak, as if saying it out loud relinquishes whatever semblance of control she had over all of this. She’s exhausted, but there’s one thing she hears as her body succumbs to sleep. 

“I know, sweetheart. But whatever happens, we will deal with it, and we’ll get through it.” He kisses her once more as her eyes flutter closed.

Emily has never loved him more than right now. 

[ssa-atlas-alvez]

Cowboy!reader Masterlist

Because apparently y’all love this lol (see- see what I did there? Y’all)

I'm trying to put these in a rough order as I go in the fic universe to try and make it easier to read aha

Edith

Description: cowboy has an elderly neighbour (this is literally just cowboy and his neighbour, in my head set before he joins the BAU) Warnings: none

Interestin'

Description: Cowboy reader is new to the team and is feeling unheard. Warnings: bad government knowledge on Atlas' part, I did try to google it but idk guys, trying my best here. Oh, also, stress eating.

I Understand

Description: directly follows from 'interestin'', cowboy reader talks down a teenage unsub. Warnings: guns, hostage negotiations, untrusting team

Lies

Description: Directly follows 'I Understand', Hotch accuses cowboy reader of lying to the teen unsub. Warnings:

The Post That Started It All

Description: Warnings: gunshot wound.

Baking and House Plants

Description: Warnings: briefly mentions anxiety.

Poetry

Description: Cowboy and Spencer talk about reading Warnings: the only thing I can think of is that reader suggests to spencer to read the warnings of a book reader likes

Allergies (Not Really)

Description: Warnings: transphobia, sad reader, guns, bullet wound, fighting, briefly mentions some murders to set the scene a bit, someone calls reader a redneck.

More (Not) Allergies

Description: Allergies (Not Really) Part 2 Warnings: minor sad reader.

Flirting, reckless driving, I didn't mean to hit you I promise

Description: Warnings: minor car accident, unsub is not a nice man, brief mentions of killings/murders.

Stronger Coffee

Description: an cop says a few offhand comments about Derek and you don't take no shit. Warnings: hints to racism (nothing 'on screen'), blood

Mama's Boy

Description: (Follow up from Flirting, reckless driving, I didn't mean to hit you I promise) Warnings: Brief mentions of murder and kidnapping (super brief), a man tries to intimidate a woman, that’s about it. Oh, some swearing. 

Pretty As A picture

Description: Warnings: a shelter?

Gay Panic

Description: Warnings: gay panic, some unsavoury thoughts - like one

Gay Panic Part 2

Description: Cowboy gets hit on Warnings: None

Darla

Description: Cowboy is in love... Warnings: n/a

Tattoos

Description: the team sees cowboy's tattoos Warnings: n/a

Mermaids and Unicorns

Description: A kid sees his first real life cowboy Warnings: n/a

Protector

Description: a guy hits on JJ at a bar and cowboy reader is not happy about it. Set before they confess their feelings, they're still "friends" here. Warning: unwanted touching (arm around the shoulder), and guy tries to kiss JJ (when she doesn't want it)

Sleepover

Description: JJ thinks cowboy looks huggable. Warnings: none

Sunflower Seeds

Description: Warnings: Death, sadness, abuse, bad foster parents, death of a child, murderous foster parents. Word count: 2403

Quit

Description: Warnings: Smoking, addiction (smoking)

The Art of Actually Quitting

Description: JJ helps cowboy tackle his smoking addiction. Warnings: Addiction, reader snaps

I'm Sorry, I Promise, Have Some Flowers

Description: Warnings:

My Bio Daddy

Description: Not sexy times I swear. Cowboy reader's father visits, things don't go too well... Warnings: abuse, abusive parents, abduction, claustrophobia, judgy nurse, hospital visits, child abuse mentions

Farmers Tan

Description: just a little snippet of cowboy reader and the team really Warnings: n/a

Southern Belle Ex

Description: the BAU run into an old friend of cowboy reader while near his home town Warning: jealousy, mentions past smoking addiction, that's about it

Home

Description: Being close to home, the team finally get to meet reader's family. Things start out great and then... Not so much. Reader makes sure his younger brother knows that despite what their parents have said, he's still there for them. Warning: homophobia, someone nearly says the f-slur twice (they don't say the whole thing, reader puts them in their place), mentions of going to conversion therapy, pro-conversion therapy views, being kicked out because of sexuality, unaccepting parents, unaccepting sibling (Jason's a bit of a dick and I stand by that). I think that's everything.

Outlaws

Description: Cowboy reader babysits Jack Warnings: None

I was worried

Description: Warnings: Blood, guns, gun shot wound, passing out, hospitals, some swear words

Sleepless

Description: cowboy reader can't sleep :( Warnings: can't sleep (idk if it's insomnia tho), very tired reader, I think that's all

Birthday

Description: Warnings: implications of claustrophobia, it's his first birthday party so he's a bit overwhelmed bless him (I say over a fully grown man)

Sick

Description: cowboy reader gets sick and makes some confessions. And it's what everyone's been waiting for Warnings: illness, mentions throwing up (no actual throwing up), cold/flu, mentions high temperature, reader feels rough, yeah

Dates

Description: Warnings:

Crazy Ex Girlfriend

Description: Dana, an old 'friend' of reader turns up at his work place and decides to make a scene. Warnings: reader gets slapped, crazy ex girlfriend, she insults JJ, she calls her a sl^t and wh0re, she also tells reader to 'burn in h3ll'

Rain and Thunder

Description: It's raining, and reader can't help but feel connected with the earth. Ever the romantic, this particular type of weather leads to more discussions of feelings. Takes place quite some time after 'Sick' and 'Dates' but you guys dont know about dates yet. I've not written it yet but it happens before this. Warnings: rain, thunder, lightning, that's it this one is happy feelings, bit cliche but ya know I enjoyed writing it aha

TikTok

Description: Cowboy reader tries tiktok Warnings: None

Guitar

Description: Cowboy reader shows JJ his secret talent (sfw don't worry) Warnings: hints to kissing? That's literally it, oh and some bad language at the end.

(No) Self-Preservation

Description: scar reveal. Warnings: scars, abusive backstory.

Promise

Description: JJ and Cowboy hit a rough patch, the song is promise by Laufey (just in case you can't see it, Tumblr's being annoying for me) Warnings: sadness :'), smoking

Like A ______

Description: Warnings:

Save A Horse

Description: Warnings:

Allergy Reunion

Description: Mia and reader reunite, chaos ensues. Warnings: gun shots, unsubs go to the school, guns, schools targeted, criminal minds levels of violence (maybe even on the slightly tamer side).

All For Nothing (Part 1)

Description: Cowboy doesn't make it in time... Warnings: Death, death of children and a parent, shock, blood, mentions of a shelter/homelessness

taglist under the cut

Taglist: @xweirdo101x @xdark-acadamiax @ara-a-bird @heidss @chubbyboyinflannel @pendragon-writes @migwayne @bigolgay @technikerin23 @supercriminalbean @honestlycasualarcade @caffeine-mess @1s3v3n1 @oddmiles @kevyeen @stealing-kneecaps @criminalskies @woodandwaxwings @wizardmon3 @aphroditeslovr @ducks118 @azeal-peal @13thdoctor-run @introvertpan84 @goth-boi-atlas @iliketozoneout @chaosofmanyfandoms @logicalhorror @luvfornick @prmsn-17

@xweirdo101x @xdark-acadamiax @ara-a-bird @heidss @chubbyboyinflannel @pendragon-writes @migwayne @bigolgay @technikerin23 @supercriminalbean @honestlycasualarcade @caffeine-mess @1s3v3n1 @oddmiles @kevyeen @stealing-kneecaps @criminalskies @woodandwaxwings @wizardmon3 @aphroditeslovr @ducks118 @azeal-peal @13thdoctor-run @introvertpan84 @goth-boi-atlas @iliketozoneout @chaosofmanyfandoms @logicalhorror @luvfornick @prmsn-17 @pinxeajin

I might have missed some people out - I'm very sorry if I have, also please let me know either in my inbox, on here, or message if you wanna be added to the taglist :)

[5raysofsunshine]

Just Say Yes (part 2) - Penemily x Fem Reader fluff

Description: Takes place months after part 1, and you've become really good friends with Penelope and Emily. So much so that find yourself falling for the couple and you're confused whether the couple sees you as just their friend or if they're interested in something more???

Rating: G. I don’t think there’s even any cursing in this lol BUT THERE IS KISSY KISSY AT THE END

Word count: 4076k

Wrote this part 2 because I promised iv I would, lol. I'm sorry it's taken soooo long. For @sweetprentiss’s Emily Prentiss Birthday Bingo challenge! Thanks to all my friends who read this and thought it was good because I rewrote it like five times...

Enjoy!

---

Tonight was yet another girls night at Emily’s, and you had taken a lot of jello shots with Penelope and drank a glass or two (okay maybe it was three) of wine with Emily. JJ and Tara were there as well, and you all were having a blast gossiping and joking around with each other.

Penelope was hanging all over you, complimenting you and flirting with you as she usually did. Only this time, the blonde was very forward and bordering on dirty talk as she would lean in close and whisper in your ear, almost challenging you to say something as equally flirty and dirty back. You chalked it up to the woman being sloshed, but you couldn’t ignore the effect her words had on you. Emily’s eyes were on you whenever this happened, almost as if she was waiting to see how you would react. You feared it was jealousy, that Penelope shouldn’t be talking to you like this at all and it was meant for Emily only. But the more you caught the brunette looking at you, the more you realized that her expression wasn’t one of concern, but of admiration and... lust?

You couldn’t believe your eyes and ears, you couldn’t trust yourself when it came to your feelings about how your friends have been treating you. It made you feel awkward, yet you couldn’t deny the excitement you felt in your chest when you received a look or a touch from Penelope and/or Emily. The two women are driving you crazy with this game they’re playing, if it is even a game to them at all.

At around 9 o’clock JJ and Tara left, leaving you and Penelope home with Emily. You were a bit too intoxicated to drive home, so Emily offered to let you stay the night. Of course, you couldn’t turn her down, and Penelope was excited about having a sleepover with her “two favorite girls”. But as you lie awake on the daybed in Emily’s second bedroom that’s been turned into her home office, all you can think about is the couple and how they’ve been treating you.

All of the mixed signals and testing of limits has been driving you crazy. You need to know where you stand, what they want from you. You don’t want to intrude or involve yourself in something that isn’t meant for you. You don’t want to assume that they know what they’re doing to you, how they’re making you feel. Because if their intentions are what you think they are, if they see you as more than just a co-worker/friend, then how will that affect things? And what if you confront them and ask them and your assumption is wrong? You’ll probably lose their friendship, or worse, you’ll lose your job.

“It’s too risky, why would they be doing this to me if they didn’t mean it?” You think to yourself as you roll over onto your side. You grab your phone to check the time, it’s almost three in the morning. You’re having such a hard time falling asleep because your brain won’t shut up about Penelope and Emily. “All of the compliments, all of the teasing looks... how in the hell is that ‘just friend’ behavior? I’m a profiler for god’s sake, they can’t be acting like this on accident. And it’s not like it’s just one of them, which would be incredibly frowned upon, I’m getting weird vibes from BOTH of them! I need to know what the hell is going on, because I don’t appreciate being played with like this. I need to know what they want from me. I need to know... I need to know.”

You fling the covers off your body and stand up, stretching out your back before walking out of the room. You walk around the dark empty house and you can hear the sound of Penelope’s snores coming from Emily’s bedroom. You chuckle, wondering how Emily can sleep in peace with Penelope in her bed. Stepping into the kitchen, you decide to make yourself a snack. You peek in Emily’s cabinets, finding ingredients to make a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.

As you begin to prepare your snack, you fail to notice the sound of footsteps approaching you.

“Hey, you,” the woman speaks.

“Ahh!” You yelp, startled by the sound of Emily’s voice. You look up, holding the knife you just used to cut your PB & J in half and taking in the image of Emily standing at the entryway of the kitchen. Your shoulders relax and you gently place the knife back down on the kitchen counter.

“Oh, hey Emily,” you say, rubbing the back of your neck in embarrassment.

Emily winces, gripping her empty water glass tighter in her hands. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.” She enters the kitchen and walks over to the refrigerator, opening the freezer door and grabbing a couple ice cubes. They clink as they hit the glass.

You take a bite of your 3 am snack. “It’s all good,” you say as you chew. “What are you doing up?”

Emily takes her filtered water pitcher out of the fridge and fills up her glass, “Came for more water, you?”

You swallow thickly, “Couldn’t sleep, wanted a snack, so I made a PB & J. I hope you don’t mind.”

“Oh, not at all, please help yourself." The unit chief takes a sip of her cold water before speaking again, "I’m sorry, you're having trouble sleeping, I know the day bed in the office isn’t very comfortable.”

“No, the daybed is- um...” you trail off, making the decision to lie and leave out how stiff your muscles were from sleeping on the thin spring mattress, "... yeah, it's totally fine. Very comfy.”

Emily laughs, the beautiful sound bouncing off the walls of her kitchen and into your ears, “Well, I know that's a lie, so, I have a proposal. Why don't you come sleep in my bed with me and Penelope? We can make room for you.”

“Yeah, I know. Penelope already tried to drag me from the daybed earlier. But... wouldn’t it be kind of awkward?” You ask, chewing on another piece of your PB & J.

The brunette woman takes a sip from her glass as she approaches you, licking her lips, “How so?”

"Well if I go lay down with you and Penelope, I’d kinda be like a third wheel to a couple in their own bed," you state as your gaze locks on Emily's face. You rub your lips together, "Are you sure that’s something you and Penelope are okay with?”

Emily stills, her body leaning on the kitchen counter across from you. “I think the more important question is are you okay with that?”

You blink hard, taken aback by your friend/boss's response. “I don’t know... I’m honestly a little confused, Em.”

The woman in front of you frowns, “About what, y/n?”

You look down at your sock covered feet. There are crumbs from eating the first half of your sandwich sprinkled around your toes. You're trying to calm your mind so you can communicate clearly with Emily because the feelings you've been dealing with are so confusing and you hope that maybe she can shed some light on how she and her girlfriend feel about you.

“Well, I know you and Garcia are together, and I love and respect your relationship. You two are so good together... but...” you trail off, unsure about how you want to approach the subject of your suspicion. You know that it's something you need to talk about now since you've been thinking about the couple and their attempts at being more than friendly with you all night long.

“But what, y/n?” Emily asks, her left brow arching up and her arms crossing in front of her chest. Her tone is soft and nonthreatening, but her stance reminds you of when she's in BAU Unit Chief mode. It makes you feel intimidated and small, but you straighten your posture and look her in the eyes.

“So, you and Garcia have been such good friends to me, especially since my relationship ended a couple months ago. I used to only really talk to Penelope because, well, she’s Penelope, but now that I’ve gotten the chance to know you better, ya know, outside of work, I feel like I can be honest with you without being worried if I’ll be fired or something. Getting to see you and Garcia act as a couple is so cute, and I’m not gonna lie, sometimes I get a little jealous. And when you and Penelope are showing me similar affection that you usually save for each other, it makes me feel... like I’m receiving something that isn’t meant for me. Like I’m intruding on something that I shouldn’t be a part of. And it’s even more confusing when you both tell me that you love having me around, that you really care about me, and especially when you ask me if I want to sleep in your bed. I’m not sure what the lines are here, Emily, or what your expectations are. But I need to know if you and Penelope are... if I’m...”

“I think I get what you’re saying, y/n.”

“What are you guys talking about in here? Is it moi?” Penelope asks as she shuffles into the kitchen, her sleep mask positioned like a headband as she sleepily smiles at you and Emily.

You sit up on the counter and swing your legs while Emily fidgets with her fingers. You both exchange nervous glances before you clear your throat to speak, “Uhhh... well, Emily and I were just talking about how instead of sleeping on the daybed, I could-”

Penelope gasps, her eyes widening in delight, “You’re finally gonna come sleep with us?!”

You shrug, pressing your lips together before responding, “I don’t know, I’m not sure if I-”

“No no no, I don’t wanna hear ‘I like sleeping on the couch’ or ‘I don’t want to intrude’ from you anymore! Just say yes, please! Come cuddle with us! You can be in between us like a y/n sandwich! It’d be so cute!” The blonde woman’s eyes travel and she spots the abandoned half of your 3 am snack. “Oooh, speaking of a sandwich, hello there!”

Penelope picks up the other half of your PB & J and takes a bite. The blonde smiles at you as she happily chews, but she slows her jaw movements when she notices the tension in the room. “What’s going on here, my lovelies?”

Emily sighs, “Pen, y/n wants to know what our intentions are with her.”

Penelope swallows, her mood suddenly changes as she puts the sandwich back down on the counter. She meets your gaze, “How so?”

“Um... I need to know what this is. I’ve been feeling like you two see me as... part of your relationship.”

“Well of course you’re part of our relationship! You’re our best friend, you’re important to us. Plus, I don’t think we’d let anyone else in our bed. Except maybe Derek, but that was back before he found Savannah and-”

Emily interrupts, “I think y/n is trying to ask us if we see her less as just a close friend, and more as a... third partner. Is that right, sweetheart?” Emily’s eyes are boring into you as she speaks, she can probably sense how nervous you are. You know that the brunette calling you ‘sweetheart’ is supposed to be calm and reassure you that there’s no need to worry, but it makes you feel worse.

You glance between Emily and Penelope, who are standing across from you. Penelope’s head is leaning against Emily’s and their hands are clasped together. Embarrassment creeps its way into your chest making it tighten. You find it hard to breathe. You find it hard to even move a muscle as you watch the two women give each other knowing looks that at this very moment you can’t interpret. You’re scared now. You regret questioning their kindness towards you, and misinterpreting what the two women are wanting from you. Things have been so good and you’ve felt so loved that the only explanation you could think of was that they loved you more than friends should.

Your face is getting hot and tears are beginning to build in your eyes. You shake your head and force out a chuckle, trying to downplay your feelings. “I feel really dumb right now- um... can we just forget this? I’m-uh... I shouldn’t have-”

“Well...” Penelope starts, stepping away from Emily to be closer to you, “you’re not, like, entirely wrong I guess.”

Both you and Emily snap your heads up to look at Penelope.

“What do you mean?” You ask hesitantly.

The blonde woman looks over at Emily, “Is it okay if I tell her?”

Emily smiles, “Of course, babe.”

“Okay so, I know it’s inappropriate since you just got out of a relationship, but I will admit that I’ve kinda had a crush on you ever since you joined the team. It was like how I felt about Emily when she first joined. I was so impressed and fascinated by you, it kinda scared me. See, I’ve never been the type to only love one person. Everyone I care about has a special place in my heart. Emily of course is a little different because-”

“Only a little?” Emily teases, causing Penelope to roll her eyes endearingly.

“Okay, Emily is a lot different because she’s taken up a much bigger deeper part of my heart. We’ve been through so much together over the past decade, and I wouldn’t trust or feel safe with anyone else the way I do when it comes to Emily. And I love her so much that I’d do anything for her. That’s why we’re partners, that’s why she’s the second most important person in my life.”

“Yup,” the brunette chimes in, “Chocolate Thunder will always be number 1. And I’ve learned to accept it.”

You smile at the mention of Derek Morgan, who had left the BAU not very long before you joined. Penelope had told you many stories about the handsome and badass man who always had a soft spot for her. You had even briefly met him and his son on video chat when Penelope was very adamant to introduce you one night.

“Anywho, I was talking to Emily about you because she knows I develop crushes on people even though I am in love with her and never want to leave her for anyone else. When I first told her about how I felt a similar tug in my soul when you first came on board, she got a little jealous.”

Emily scoffs, “I was not jealous!”

“You totally were, my love. You felt threatened, remember?”

You frown, you never wanted to upset Emily so hearing this makes you tense up. “Is that true, Em?”

The unit chief shrugs, “What can I say, I’m kinda possessive.” Penelope rubs Emily’s back in slow circles, causing the woman to sigh, “But, I respect Penelope, and love her with all my heart. I never want to do anything to lose her, so I am unlearning that behavior and accepting that my girlfriend has crushes on other people. People like you. Once I got to know you better, I realized why you’re so crush-worthy. You’re a very charming person, and you have this energy about you that is very welcoming. You’re kind, loyal, smart, and witty. Not to mention what a powerhouse you are in and out of the field. You’re a great communicator, which is probably one of the main reasons I hired you. But, I’m taking myself out of boss mode and I hope you believe me when I say that I admire you in all aspects. You’re strong, courageous, and just like Penelope you care so much for people. And may I say that your ex was really stupid to let someone like you waste your time and energy when they wouldn’t give the same in return.”

Penelope piggybacks off of Emily’s last statement, “Yes, we’re so glad that you’re replenishing your energy and that we are helping you feel better. I appreciate how despite the hurt and emptiness you still feel, you’re trusting me and Emily and opening up to us. I know that things have been a little overwhelming for you at times, like how affectionate we have been with you, but we just really wanted to make sure you knew that we care about you and you deserve to feel happy because I think you’re phenomenal and exciting and my heart does backflips whenever I make you smile. Plus, you’re really cute. Like seriously, who can resist this face!”

Penelope cups your face to accentuate her point, you laugh as she turns your head towards Emily who is nibbling on her bottom lip and nodding. The blonde removes her hand from your face and steps back, “Emily and I both have joked about inviting you to join us for a threeway, which I now realize is a very inappropriate thing to say at the moment, but it led to us having serious chats about you, and how we feel about you. Which brings me to your question, y/n. You want to know if we want you to be a third partner in our relationship, right?”

You nod, you’ve been waiting for an answer all night. Though in reality, you’ve been waiting for an answer for weeks.

Penelope continues, “Before we answer, I want to know if that is something you want or if it’s something you don’t. Because we never meant to make you feel uncomfortable, if that’s how you feel.” The tech analyst's voice is hoarse as she whispers, tears are building up in her eyes. She's probably just as nervous as you are. You relax your shoulders and reach out for her hand to hold. Penelope smiles, instantly placing her palm in yours. You squeeze her hand as you speak.

“I’m not uncomfortable, Penny. I just need to know if that’s what this is. If you and Emily are actually considering being in a romantic relationship with me. Because I’m not gonna lie to you, being with you two has been so amazing and I wouldn’t mind trying this out with you if it means I continue to be cared for and supported by the two most strong and amazing and beautiful women I have ever had the pleasure of meeting. But, I don’t want things to get awkward. I don’t want things to get ruined if being involved with you doesn’t work out. Not that I would ever try to hurt you or disrespect you or make you feel unappreciated or whatever. I mean Emily, you’re our unit chief! Doesn’t this concern you, us being together like this?”

Emily sighs heavily, “Well, I think as long as we don’t put a huge amount of pressure onto this, if we let it develop naturally and try not to force anything, then we’ll be okay. And don’t worry about losing your job because of personal reasons like this, it’s up to you if you can handle it or if you need to leave. But, let’s not get into that right now, since right now is only the beginning. I promise to take things slow and be as respectful of you as possible, and so does Penelope. Right, babe?”

Penelope replies, “Absolutely.”

“So what do you say, y/n? Do you..." Emily trails off as she smiles at her girlfriend, "Pen, why don’t you do the honors?”

The technical analyst nods her head, "Sure. Um... y/n? Do you want to be our girlfriend?”

You grin, “Oh man... I can’t believe this is happening. I must be dreaming.”

“Believe it, baby.” Emily says, testing out the pet name she's only called you when she was sloshed off of margaritas. Taking a few steps forward to stand in front of you, she grabs your free hand as Penelope continues to hold the other. “Now use your words and tell us if you want this. Be honest.”

“Oh of course I want this! I want you, I want to be with you! Both of you! My god, you guys, my heart is beating so fast right now. Wow. I was so scared when I first brought it up but now... I just wanna...” You pull your hands away from the couple’s grasp and open your arms up to pull them both in for a hug. “I’m so grateful for you two... I’m so happy!”

Emily hums, “I’m so glad you’re happy, sweetheart. That’s all we want.”

Penelope lifts your hand to her lips and covers it with kisses, “Yeah sugar, I promise we’re gonna make you so happy.”

All three of you are smiling at each other, enjoying the moment, but there’s still a small amount of awkward tension in the air. You're the first to break the silence.

“So, uh... what do we do now?”

Penelope yawns, rubbing her eye, “Well, my new awesome girlfriend, what would you like to do?”

You smile, “I think I’d like to come to bed with my new awesome girlfriends.”

Penelope cheers and shakes her fisted hands, “Yay! Y/n sandwich! Let's go!"

You slide off the counter and land on your socked feet. You hold hands with Penelope as her and Emily guide you towards the bedroom.

You climb into bed with them and they snuggle in close. Your head ends up on Emily’s chest as Penelope spoons you. Sleepy mumbled promises of crepes for breakfast are exchanged before all three of you relax and enjoy the quiet. But you can’t fall asleep just yet, there’s something missing. “Just ask them, say something before they fall asleep!” you thought to yourself.

“Hey Em? Pen? Since we are now girlfriends, don’t you think it’s kinda customary for new girlfriends to get goodnight kisses?"

Emily hums, “I think everyone in this bed deserves kisses.”

“I totally agree!” Penelope says before shifting to sit up. Her sleep mask is over her eyes, which makes you giggle. “Alright, both of you. Come give mama some sugaaa,” Penelope sleepily teases, which makes you giggle even more. You glance over at Emily who is trying to hold in her laughter.

You smirk, “Rock paper scissors to see who goes first?”

Emily chuckles and shakes her head. “Consider this your initiation,” she jokes back.

You lean in close to Penelope's face, nuzzling your nose with hers before planting a couple quick kisses on her cheek and then another finally landing on her lips. Your eyes flutter closed as you melt into the slow kiss. Penelope’s lips are so soft and full, and her hand that is on your arm is so warm against your skin. When she pulls away you instantly miss her touch.

But soon enough Penelope's touch was replaced with Emily's as the brunette begins pulling you close. She also presses a kiss to your cheek, her pointy nose poking your face. Then she hooks her finger under your chin and leans in for a kiss. Emily hums in contentment as she kisses you, the vibrations making you smile against her mouth.

You lay back down to give your girlfriends room to lean over and kiss each other goodnight before they cuddle you close.

“Goodnight, my lovelies.” Penelope whispers, rubbing her cheek against your shoulder.

“Goodnight, Pen.” Emily says before intertwining her fingers with yours, “Goodnight, y/n.”

“Goodnight...” you say as you close your eyes to attempt to drift off to sleep.

You can’t believe how the night has ended, how this new day is beginning. You’re snuggled in the arms of your two friends... who are now your girlfriends. “My girlfriends... I have girlfriends...” you happily think. This is kinda new territory for you, being involved with a couple. You’re not quite sure how things are going to go, but you assume it won’t be too different from how the women have both been treating you in the past. You just get to have more physical affection, more romantic feelings, more...

You fall asleep with Emily and Penelope on your mind, and despite Penelope’s snoring, you get the best night’s sleep of your life.

[sequinsmile-x]

Hey! I would like to request Hugs: 32. long lasting hugs. (Cause I'm a sucker for a good long lasting hug.) Congrats on the followers and thank you so so much for writing so many great Hotchniss fics!!🥹

Thank you so much!!

I hope you enjoy this. It is just pure fluff/Aaron simping over Emily (as he should.)

-x-

Words: 850

Warnings: None

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

At first, Aaron isn’t sure what wakes him up.

He smiles as he stretches, increasingly aware of the warm weight up against him, of Emily in his arms, the familiar scent of her shampoo. 

She’d been the one to ask him on a date. She smiled at him as she joked that if she waited for him to finally ask her it would never happen. They’d had dinner, their hands linked together on the table as they spoke about anything and everything. He’d taken her home, anxiety he hadn’t felt since he was young climbing up his chest as he leaned in to kiss her. Yet again, she’d been the one to take the step they needed. She’d grabbed him by his tie and pulled him into her apartment, the door slamming closed behind them.

She’d always been the braver one of the two of them. 

They’d taken the time to map out each other's bodies. Fingers grazing over skin, over scars they had only ever imagined before, as they learnt how to take each other apart. When they’d finally fallen asleep, fresh from the shower, her still damp hair sticking to both of them as they laid down, he’d laid behind her, pulling her back into his embrace. She’d drifted to sleep content in his arms. 

He was in love with her. It was something he’d known for longer than he cared to admit. He’d realised when she was in Paris, as far away from him as she had ever been since they’d met. 

And now she was the closest. 

Aaron had learnt two new things about Emily Prentiss since they curled up in bed together just a few hours ago. The first was that she snored. It wasn’t loud, or particularly disruptive, but it was definitely something. A slight catch in the back of her throat when she inhaled, a noise that he would never dare tell her was cute. He found it endearing. A sign that she was sleeping deeply. 

A sign that she felt safe with him. A feeling that she had been denied for so long. 

The second was that she was a snuggler. 

He’d expected to wake up to find her on the other side of the bed having drifted out of his embrace as they both slept. Instead, she’s exactly where she was when he fell asleep. Her back pressed against his chest, her head tucked up underneath his chin. He had one arm over her, and the other under her. 

That’s when he realises what had woken him up.

The arm that was underneath her had gone numb. His fingers tingled from the lack of blood flow, pins and needles spreading throughout his forearm. He tries to pull his arm from under her but is unsuccessful. He tries again, trying to use his other arm to lift her, but all he succeeds in doing is waking her up just enough to react. She groans, still fast asleep as she mutters something indecipherable. Aaron can’t help but smile and he kisses the top of her head. 

“Sweetheart,” he whispers, the nickname sounding right even though it’s the first time he’s said it, “I need you to move a little.” 

She grumbles again, shifting enough to let him know she’s awake as she turns to face him, her eyes still closed. 

“What?” She slurs, the word barely recognisable, and he can’t help but laugh. 

“I just need my arm back,” he says, shifting her closer towards him, smiling as she ends up laying on his chest, freeing his arm, “Thank you.” 

Aaron raises his arm and clenches his hand into a fist and out of it until the feeling returns to his fingers. 

“You’re welcome,” she says, burying her face into his neck. Her hand drifts up to hook her fingers under the neckline of his t-shirt. “You’re comfy.” 

“Go back to sleep, Em,” he says, even though he’s not entirely sure she was ever awake. He kisses the top of her head and runs his hand up and down her back. He drifts off back to sleep, the weight of her against him new and somehow achingly familiar, like this was something they’d been walking towards for years. 

When he wakes up in the morning, she’s still on top of him and his arms are still banded loosely around her back. There’s a small patch of drool on his t-shirt he won’t mention to her, and he kisses the top of her head, smiling as she shifts against him. 

“Morning,” she says, her voice thick from misuse. She shifts to look up at him, her eyes glassy with sleep. 

“Good morning,” he replies, cupping the back of her head as he kisses her, the action lost in both of their smiles. 

He was in love with her, and he was pretty sure she loved him too. 

-x-

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