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thank you for following me I have nothing to offer

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Kamilah being soft makes me weak

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THE BAU TRYING TO MAKE TIKTOKS TO RECRUIT YOUNG PROFILERS

(Requested by @lazyclumzycat-blog)

TIKTOK 1

SPENCER: *Awkwardly flailing arms* Renegade, renegade, renegade—

GARCIA: Okay, stop stop stop. Spencer, sweetheart, what on earth are you doing with your arms?

SPENCER: This is the choreography you showed me!

GARCIA: Ok, mister, firstly, I don’t appreciate the sass. And second, I said nothing about a crotch grab.

SPENCER: Morgan told me to do that.

MORGAN: I thought he’d look smoother if he channeled Michael Jackson. I realise now I was wrong.

TIKTOK 2

EMILY: *Walks into Hotch’s office, filming.* I’m so hungry I could eat Tracy Lambert.

HOTCH: Excuse me?

EMILY: *Regretting* Oh, I… I was just recording something for Garcia, never mind—

HOTCH: Did you just say—

EMILY: No, no, I just…

HOTCH: That’s not funny, Emily.

EMILY: Right, no, of course not.

HOTCH: Reid hasn’t looked at a bowl of Chilli the same way since.

EMILY: I wasn’t trying to—

HOTCH: Please leave my office.

EMILY: Yes, sir.

TIKTOK 3

MORGAN AND ELLE: *Posing and licking the barrel of their guns to Beyoncé’s ‘Single Ladies’.*

ROSSI: What the hell did I just walk in on?!

ELLE: We’re recording a thirst trap.

MORGAN: Giving the people what they want. Hit the music again, I wanna try a smoulder this time.

ROSSI: *Watches in horror.*

ROSSI: Everyone told me not to come out of retirement. I wish to god I’d listened.

TIKTOK 4

TARA: ‘Denial is a river in Egypt your DOJ prosecutor is gay?’ That’s what we’re going with?

GARCIA: Trust me, they’ll love it.

TIKTOK 5

GIDEON: *Looks up to see Sergio perched on his desk.* Penelope. Why is there a small animal on my desk?

PENELOPE: He’s gonna be a star. You have a good angle, could you get a shot of him meowing into the camera?

GIDEON: Penelope.

PENELOPE: Yes, sir?

GIDEON: Remove this animal from my desk.

LUKE: *Standing awkwardly in the corner with Roxy.* Maybe we should scrap this one?

TIKTOK 6

JJ: No, Garcia, I am absolutely not doing any more thirst tweets. I already have 2 children, I don’t want to be the internet’s ‘mommy’ too.

EMILY: I volunteer as tribute.

BONUS!

SPENCER: So, how did we do?

GARCIA: Our account was banned.

EMILY: Yeah, that tracks.

Check out my Masterlist for more BAU scenarios! Requests are open :)

[millasayeed]

EMILY PRENTISS Criminal Minds 18.03 | Time to Say Goodbye

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This book isn’t just a story—it’s my Roman Empire🖤

Nostalgia. This music always brings so much emotion.

BLOOD BOUND

Remembering - Replaying

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𝐄𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐲 𝐏𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐬𝐬 | 𝐯𝐨𝐢𝐜𝐞 𝐦𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐬

A/N: I know I said I wasn't going to write or post til Friday, but I've been plagued by visions. like a Sapphic Joan of Arc.

It starts off as a single voice message, just a quick, "just leaving for work. You looked so peaceful when I left. I didn't want to wake you." But then it turns into a habit.

Her ramblings are unfiltered. She'll talk about anything & nothing. How the coffee at the office is criminally bad, how Hotch was brooding even more than usual, how she saw a dog in a sweater & it reminded her of you for reasons she can't explain.

In the earlier days of your relationship, she always ends with "sorry, that was a lot. You don't have to listen to all that." But over time, she stops apologizing & just sends them.

You can tell exactly how her day is going by the tone of her voice. The sleepy rasp in the morning. The tension in her voice during mid-day updates. The soft & warm "I miss yous" when she's driving home late & exhausted.

She sends them when she can't text, like if she's in between cases or running through an airport, it's easier to just tap record & talk than type. "Our flight was delayed. I'm going to read this awful paperback Rossi gave me. I'll send you a picture"

Sometimes, they're total chaos, where you can hear rustling or Reid talking in the distance or a door slamming & then she whispers something like "Okay, sorry about that, I'm back. Where was I? Oh, yes! I saw a bakery that I think you'd love..."

The late-night ones are softer. Her voice is slower, lower & more honest. "I had a weird day. But it got better just thinking about coming home to you." Then a quiet pause before she continues, "Okay, I'm going to sleep now. Like you probably already are. Hope I hear your voice in the morning. Goodnight or morning, whenever you listen to this. I love you"

The messages are more for her than they are for you. It's a way to keep you close when the world feels chaotic.

Do you guys want like voice message transcripts? because I want to write them. Please want them :( .

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The BAU at the Zoo:

Hotch: *Reading a map* If we just follow-

Emily: *Already climbing into the penguin exhibit*

Garcia: *Feeding an animal she 100% was not supposed to feed*

Reid: *Accidentally leading a group tour because he started talking*

Morgan: *Being stalked by a very aggressive goose*

Rossi: *Bribing a zookeeper to let him pet a tiger*

Hotch: WHERE DID YOU ALL GO?

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i simply do not have 1 nonchalant bone in my body. i am emotional, passionate and dramatic. and it’s quite beautiful.

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Prompt: literally just thought of the cutest emily x reader fic ever omg. (idk if someone has already made this but—) imagine like the team wants to leave early for a team night or something, but no one wants to be the one to ask emily. (chief era emily) They know she never says no to (reader), so they send them to go ask her, and boom team night happens early😇😇

From @lcvessapphic on tumblr

A/N: this whole authors note is just one big yapping session, read it if you want to. Okay so full disclosure i have not seen criminal minds up to this part (i only watched up to season 6 because I got so mad when Prentiss left) so I watched one episode of season 13— which I don’t even know if Emily is unit chief in tbh— in preparation and tried my hardest. Also I haven’t written in so long (or watched criminal minds in a while) so this might be soooo out of character. Also, this isn’t proofread😭

Her Favorite

Emily Prentiss x reader

No warnings! This is all just fluff :)

“I think if I stare at this paperwork for any longer I might implode.” You said, abruptly breaking the silence.

It was a slow, slow paperwork day. You don’t want someone to die just for you to get out of this damn office, but if it happened, you wouldn’t be completely opposed to it. But mostly you just wanted to go home.

“I second that,” Derek said, turning his chair away from the desk behind you to face you. “Drinks?”

“I would kill to leave early to go to the bar.” Alvez replied.

You scoffed. “Like Emily would ever agree to letting us leave early.”

The rest of the team in the bullpen turned to look at you.

“What?”

“Emily tends to say ‘yes’ to you more often than anyone else.” Spencer joined the conversation.

Your cheeks burned at that. Does she, really? Knowing that she favors you out of everything else makes you preen at the thought.

Everyone knows about your tiny (so gigantic that words can’t possibly describe it) crush on Prentiss. You have all the subtly of a train, honestly.

“She wouldn’t agree to it just because I asked.” You reasoned, but you did like the idea that she would.

“Go try and ask your girl, Y/L/N.” Morgan suggested, an arrogant grin on his face.

You knew he just said that hoping that you would try and prove him wrong— and get him out of work in the process— but you had to test it. Damn profilers.

“Not my girl— but yeah, I’ll ask.” You stood up, pushed your chair in, and walking up the stairs towards Emily’s office.

You stopped by Garcia’s office, knocking twice before opening up the door and popping your head in. “Hey, Pen, you down to get some drinks with the team?”

“Who’s asking Prentiss? She loves to be downer— oo, she’ll say yes if you ask!”

“Jesus, what is up with that? She would say ‘no’, doesn’t matter who asks.” You argued, that familiar burn in your cheeks flaring up again.

“Oh, my poor, poor, oblivious friend.”

With a sigh you closed the door and continued your walk to Emily’s office.

Again, you knocked twice on Emily’s door, and opened the door, following a brief, “come in”, from Emily.

“Hey chief, the team was hoping to leave a bit early so we could go for drinks.” You said.

She paused in her task of completing her paperwork, her pen stilling. Her mouth was opened in preparation to say ‘no’, but when she looked up at you she faltered.

You attempted to lean against the doorframe, but you were an inch off and just ended up stumbling.

She chuckled and nodded her head, a soft smile on her face. “This once. Don’t get used to it.” She tried to sound stern, but it didn’t quite work— you wouldn’t tell her that, though.

“Leave with us in ten?”

“I’ll meet you guys there.”

You left the room, closing the door behind you.

You stood there a second, a stupid, lovesick smile on your face at the realization that she was going to say ‘no’ but she didn’t because it was you.

“I take it she said ‘yes’?” Morgan yelled up to you, an even worse shit eating grin on his face.

“Shut up, Morgan.”

——————————————————————————

Thank you for the prompt! I haven’t written in so long, I loved this, and it inspired me to start watching criminal minds again. Hope you like it, sorry if you don’t.

[millasayeed]

I wonder if I'll still be reading fan fiction when I'm old. Like imagine you're like 70 all cozy in your reclining chair reading headcannons about characters from shows that aired 40+ years ago.

[millasayeed]

Episode titled "Penelope": Garcia is hospitalized after being shot by her date who turns out to be a dirty cop and is traumatized by the event Episode titled "JJ": JJ is given and pressured into taking a job offer that prompts her to leave the BAU for a while. She later accepts it and leaves the BAU Episode titled "Lauren": We get to know about Emily's past where she worked undercover using an alias named "Lauren Reynolds" in which Ian Doyle is on the run and is out for revenge. She is later stabbed by Doyle tho survives but is forced to fake her death and go into hiding in order to protect the team and herself from him Episode titled "Derek": Derek is drugged, kidnapped and tortured and is on the verge of dying had he not start to hallucinate about seeing his father as he tries to motivate himself into staying alive before the team could save him Episode titled "Spencer": Reid gets arrested in Mexico and is falsely accused of drug possession and murder charges Episode titled "Luke": Luke works on a case that connects to an old operation he and his best friend Phil worked on. The unsub is a third participant in said operation who vows retribution on those involved in said operation. As a result, Phil is killed and Luke tries to avenge his friend. While he spares the unsub, he disobeyed Emily's orders to sit out this case and ends up being demoted Episode titled "Tara": ......... Tara: *sweats nervously*

[millasayeed]

this prompt from the hydrangea list: “you should change out of those wet clothes before you catch a cold” with unit chief Emily and stubborn reader who fell into like a frozen lake or something during a case and reader makes up some sort of excuse so Emily lends her some of her own clothes which sparks something in Emily🤭

Not gonna lie, I giggled like an idiot when I read this, I'm obsessed 😭ty for participating!! Join my celebration here!

Tags: stubborn (lowkey annoying) bau!reader, reader wears emily's clothes, it's mentioned that they don't fit well but no descriptions of body type

Word count: 0.9k

Your hands shake so much you can hardly take your vest off. Emily does it for you, almost viciously, her nails ripping through velcro and separating it with loud screeches.

“I c-can—I can do it.” You pant, trying to push her away.

Emily’s eyes tell you to shut up. Her whole face does—lips tightly pressed, brows drawn and stiff. Her silence answers, as do her hands, slapping yours away and reaching for the straps under them. She rips them open, freeing you, and lugs your waterlogged vest off of your chest. You gasp, the frigid air tightening your lungs.

“Jesus, fuck.” You curse, clenching your teeth as your muscles lock.

The frown slips deeper between Emily’s brows.

“Take this off.” Her hands are shoving at your shoulders. Your windbreaker falls to the lake bank with a wet slap, joining your discarded vest. Emily sheds her own jacket; before you can blink, she’s wrapping it around you, her warm exhales puffing over your face. “C’mon. You should change out of those wet clothes before you catch a cold.”

You might as well be wearing a sheet of paper. But at least Emily’s jacket has dry pockets. You let her help you up—hell, who are you kidding, she does all of the heavy lifting—and almost fall back down when you let go, your legs trembling and numb.

Emily’s arm firmly wraps around your waist. She tugs you in the opposite direction, back to the SUVs.

“No, no, no.” You strain against her arm. “W-We’re gonna lose him.”

“I don’t think the fifteen agents on his tail are gonna let that happen.”

“Emily—”

“Keep moving.” She snaps.

The look on her face makes you comply. 

Your boots squelch wetly with every step. Water sloshes over your ankles, dipping your socks in a fresh wave of ice, and you shiver. Emily’s arm around your waist, sticking your shirt to your skin, makes it worse. 

Her grip is steel. Unnecessary and heavy and telling of her palpable anger with the way her fingers grip your side. 

“So what, now you’re mad at me for f-falling into a fucking lake?”

Her jaw ticks. She lets your question hang in the air, lets silence seal over it before speaking. 

“I’m not mad at you because you fell in the lake.” She says evenly, her voice low and composed. “I’m mad at you because you’re still a fucking idiot after falling into the lake.”

You scoff, “Oh, sorry for trying to prioritize my job—”

“Over yourself. That’s just,” she shakes her head, irritated, “that’s just stupid.” 

Bold of you to say, you almost snap back. But you hold your tongue just in time, digging your molars in and cutting off that thought.

“I’m fine,” you say instead, uselessly, because the SUV comes into view. Your numb fingers cry out in relief. “I’m just cold and dripping, not mortally wounded.”

“Thank god,” she says dryly.

For all your protests, you really are grateful when she all but throws you into the car and turns the heat on max. You’re pretty sure it’s the wrong thing to do, but you still huddle closer to the vents, directing whatever part of your body you can to the hot blow of air. It doesn’t do much—neither does Emily’s jacket—but you still shake your head when she comes around your door with clothes and a blanket in her hand.

You take the blanket. “I’ve got clothes back at the motel, I’ll just change there.”

Emily looks at you like you’re insane. “We’re going to the hospital.”

“What? We’re not.”

She holds out the clothes—a thick fleece sweater and sweatpants. “Put these on.”

“There’s no need.”

Emily pulls out her phone, eyes narrowing. “Fine, I’ll just call an ambulance.”

You snatch the clothes from her hand.

“Chief Prentiss,” you grumble, “you’re a pain in my fucking ass.”

“Ditto.” The corners of her mouth tremble, then smoothen out. Her brows raise, a thinly veiled threat. “I’ll wait out back.”

She leaves, and you look down at the clothes. Soft and warm, obviously well made and probably tailored to fit her. They’re not your size, but the hospital is at least half an hour away. 

And it’s not like you’ve got any dignity left to spare. 

You get in the back and change, teeth chattering as you pull Emily’s clothes over your body and adjust them so that they don’t look too ridiculous. Not like you care at this point; they’re warm and dry, lying thick over your bones, so you don’t complain. You get back in the front when you’re done, call Emily over, and try to warm your blue nails with the blanket she gave you.

“Thank you,” you murmur when she gets in, shame blooming in your stomach when you see the dampness along the side of her sweater.

Emily’s eyes flick over to you. They drag over your huddled form, your legs gathered on the seat—she doesn’t scold you for that, thankfully—and she blinks a few times. 

Great. Even she can see what a horrible fit her clothes are. 

A burning starts in your cheeks. You gather the sides of the blanket over your chest, crossing your arms over it. Emily turns away.

“Yeah. Yeah, sure.” 

She starts the car, her voice softer. 

“And thanks for your jacket. It’s all wet now, sorry, but I can get it dried for you. Probably dry cleaned too,” you mutter, mostly to yourself now, “it’s soaked up all that gross lake water. And your clothes—”

“It’s okay.” Emily surprises you with a laugh, clicking on her seatbelt and driving off. “Just stay warm, I don’t care about any of that stuff.”

“I am warm.” It’s not really a lie. Emily throws you a skeptical look, her eyes dipping down your chest before they get back to the road. “Really! I, uh…I don’t think the hospital’s necessary anymore.” You say timidly.

She shakes her head, the barest hint of a smile softening her cheeks. “Don’t push it.”

“Fuck.”

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[millasayeed]

I think my Roman Empire might be the way Emily looks at the team right before she's about to leave them.

[millasayeed]

hiiii this was under the hydrangea list and i thought it was cute but okay what if it was new agent reader and season 12 emily (maybe they arent super young but ykwim) and reader gets drunk for whatever reason, and emily has to take care of them. like take them back home or whatever and she said “you should get some rest kid” and then reader is like “pls dont call me that im so attracted to you and it makes it weird if you call me that” this is a mess of a sentence but im sleepy and i have read all of your work and im starving okay im done love u bye

This made me laugh, ty for requesting! I love love love it (and you). Join my celebration here <3

Tags: drunk!reader, bau!reader, flustered emily

Word count: 1.1k

Being Unit Chief comes with responsibilities. Taking drunk subordinates home is not one of them. 

And yet here she stands, stepping out of the rowdy bustle of the bar and hailing down a cab, half an eye on you and half on the car as it pulls up to the curb. 

Emily’s fingers curl around the handle. She pulls open the backseat door and nudges you in, cushioning the sharp carving above your head with her palm. And for good reason, because seconds later, your forehead bumps into the back of her hand.

“Emily, Ma’am,” you say politely when she gets in, your fingers fumbling with your seatbelt, “y’don’t have to take me home, you know.”

Emily ignores the Ma’am.

“It’s on the way to mine,” she replies, her eyes tracking your struggle with the seatbelt. She’s about to intervene when it slides home with a click.

“But it’s so early!” You huff, sinking back against the seat. “You can’t have wanted to leave yet. You like to party, I think. You look like a partier.” Your eyes lock with hers, serious despite the glazed shine to them. Still ever the profiler, even with alcohol humming in your blood.

Emily’s lips tingle with the need to smile. It’s nice to see you loose and easy; in the few months since you started at the BAU, you’ve been polite but detached, quiet unless it contributes to a case, and meticulous in your work. Emily saw the way you kept your distance, but she knew it’d fade with time.

Tonight is proof of that. A few drinks in, an hour or so of Garcia’s lively chatter, and you shed all professionalism off your shoulders. In the span of a few hours, the floodgates have opened wide. 

Emily isn’t sure she wants them to fall back closed.

“Y’know, you need a break from all that paperwork,” you say sagely. “Too much paperwork, and all of it’s on your plate.” 

It can’t be comfortable, the way you rest your head on the edge of the window. Your outline shudders with every bump in the road, but you seem perfectly content. Comfortable, even, your legs stretched out near hers and crossed at the ankles.

“Somebody’s gotta do it.” Emily murmurs. 

“Shame it’s you,” you say. The soft slide of your slur is strangely endearing. “You’re far too pretty to spend so much time in the office.”

Her brows arch in surprise. Emily lets out a short laugh, her neck growing hot, the strands of her hair suddenly poking into her skin. She doesn’t reply—can’t, really, because you go on a ramble, seemingly unbothered by the bomb you’ve dropped on her and turning your fleeting attention to some topic she isn’t really able to focus on.

Her cheeks are still warm as your voice fills the silence of the car. Soft and lilting in uneven slopes, your thoughts unwinding like pools of thread, trailing from one topic to another with hardly a pause. It’s nice, Emily thinks, to hear your tongue wrap around unmarred, bloodless words for once. Her ears hardly get reprieve from your rambling until the car stops and you once again fumble with the seatbelt. 

Streetlight pours in through the window. All at once, you’re gold. Your nails, the tips of your lashes, the frown you direct to the buckle.

Emily leans over, her own belt cutting across her chest, and undoes it for you.

You melt with relief. A beam lights up your face, lips stretched wide over your teeth. The sight is still unusual; she stares a little.

“Thanks.”

Emily swallows. Nods. 

“I’ll walk you up.”

“Oh no, no, it’s—”

“I’ll walk you up. C’mon.” Her voice falls softer than she wanted it to. Emily moves almost on autopilot: undoing her belt, getting out of the car, reaching for your elbow when you teeter above the sidewalk.

“You really are a top notch boss.” You mumble, pushing open the door of your apartment building.

Emily presses her lips against a smile. “Don’t expect this treatment every time. One time service only.”

“Part of the newbie package?”

She’d never walked anyone up to their door. A shared ride and a misspelled text minutes later was enough to make her rest easy. 

“Something like that.”

You hum and rub your eye, taking halting steps down the hallway. Emily’s eyes carefully watch for any stumbles, but you lead them safely to your door. 

The key is unsteady in your hand when you pull it out. She watches it thunk loudly against the lock as you try to slot it in, gives you three seconds, then gently takes it. Your mumbled protest goes ignored.

Emily undoes the lock and swings the door open into warm light. Her eyes instinctively flit over your home, inquisitive—nosy—before she catches herself and averts her gaze. She pulls the key out and places it in your palm, then gently nudges you in.

“C’mon. You should get some rest, kid.”

Emily doesn’t fully realize what she’s said until you pause over the threshold, a violent shudder rocking your shoulders. “God, please don’t call me that,” you grimace, face scrunched up with animated disgust. “’M so—god I’m so attracted to you, makes me feel weird to hear you call me that. Please don’t call me that.” You reiterate.

She can’t look away from the scrunch of your nose. The silence rings, and your face crumples into a frown.

“You don’t think of me as a kid, do you?”

Emily’s mouth is dry. 

“No, god no. You certainly aren’t…no, I don’t, I’m sorry,” she says breathlessly. Her skin itches with embarrassment, flaming hot where your slow eyes track. “I see JJ’s kids a lot,” she blurts, “and, you know, take them out to parks and stuff…and sometimes with Reid—you know…” 

God, somebody shut her up.

“Force of habit. I promise. I don’t see you as a kid, far from it—”

“Oh, she’s a rambler,” you laugh, something airy and feather-light. “I believe you, Chief Prentiss. But only if you’ll call me something else.” You say, a touch coy.

“What do you want me to call you?” Her voice comes out breathless.

“My name.” Your blink is slow, lashes kissing your cheeks. “M’first name, not that…L/N bullshit.”

Before tonight, she would’ve thought you preferred it. 

Emily’s glad that’s not the case. 

“Okay,” she says. “Okay, yeah. Y/N.” She tests it out. Your face brightens; her lips curve up before she feels it. “Please get some sleep.”

Still spilling laughter, you touch two fingers to your temple. “Yes, Ma’am. G’night, bye.”

The door thuds closed.

“Emily.” She murmurs to it.

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[millasayeed]

aww❤️