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sickoherd · 11 months ago

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monday morning guest

emily prentiss x reader

summary: emily gets a surprise visitor in the bullpen on monday morning.

a/n: crack idea i got driving past my neighbors house.

monday morning— bright and early. the bau team was finally back from a two week stent of back to back cases and emily was finally starting to settle into her role as unit chief. she was no hotch, but she was relying pretty heavily on her interpol experience and the bond the team had built over the years. with such a close knit team, it was always very easy to spot new comers in the office.

so when a woman breezed through the glass doors of the bullpen, emily wasn’t surprised to catch garcia’s bright pink cardigan hurrying after her to intercept the mystery woman. what she was surprised to see was a face she knew all too well.

y/n y/ln. in dc. in her bullpen? what alternate universe could she possibly have walked into this morning. she turned hastily to the mirror she kept in her office and started fluffing her hair quickly. she hadn’t seen y/n since her college graduation and it’s safe to say she looks very different now. not bad per say but older. feeling satisfied with her hair she rifled through her purse for some lipstick and anything to make her not look like it was monday morning.

down in the bullpen, y/n smiled at the brightly colored woman she’d just been stopped by. she scanned the bullpen over her shoulder hoping to catch sight of emily. after hearing the older woman had returned [allegedly from the dead], she hoped on the opportunity to pay her a visit while she was in town.

“good morning beautiful stranger. welcome to the bau, my name is penelope. can i help you with something?” the woman bounced in anticipation.

“hello, penelope. i’m actually looking for someone. your new unit chief actually.” y/n spoke as she shuffled the folder in her hand to shake penelope’s hand.

“emily? emily prentiss? do you have a crime case you’d like assistance on?” garcia asked.

“yes and no. she and i have some business to take care of, now that she’s returned stateside.” y/n smiled waving the folder in front of garcia.

“oh? business to take care of…” garcia repeated sweeping her eyes from the woman in front of her and emily’s office.

“mmhm. do you think she’s available for a little chat?” y/n asked nodding in amusement at the quirky woman.

“well i would think so— who should i say is here?”

“oh where are my manners, i’m y/n. she should remember me.” y/n smiled as garcia nodded her understanding before heading up the stairs to emily’s office.

“ma’am,” garcia spoke knocking on the open door of emily’s office.

“please stop calling me ma’am.” emily sighed wearily.

“sorry, im just nervous. there’s a really pretty woman down there saying she’s here to see you. and that you’ve got official business to take care of. well i don’t think she said official but she definitely said business. and she waved a folder in front of me. are you being sued or something?” garcia rambled.

emily eyed the tech analyst as she rambled and as she took a breath she held her hand up to stop her before she could start again. “y/n y/ln, right?”

“y/n— yes. i don’t know her last name but she said you should remember her. do you want me to go get her?”

“no, no. i’ll come down myself.” emily rose from the desk, giving herself another once over in the mirror before moving toward garcia and the door.

“wait, what was that?” garcia asked curiously.

“what— what was what? what are you talking about?” emily asked obliviously.

“did you just check yourself out? are you primping yourself? did you reapply your lipstick? oh this just got so much more interesting. who is this woman?” garcia jumped.

“i-what no to all of that,” emily lied as her cheeks heated. “and she’s just a friend from my college days.”

“yeah but what kind of friend? i don’t primp in my office when my college friends come to see me.”

emily peeked around the door frame into the bullpen and caught sight of y/n looking right back at her. the woman sent a flirty wave up toward the office and laughed softly as she watched emily’s cheeks heat in embarrassment.

“not now garcia.” emily mumbled as she straightened her clothes out one more time before descending the stairs to meet y/n. “y/n, what a surprise. what’s it been 10 years?”

“far more than that, em. you look good.” y/n smirked.

“wow, obviously not as good as you. garcia said you came on business?” emily replied trying and failing to tame the blush she’d been sporting since she headed down to the bullpen.

“well yes. and may i just say, you are one hard woman to track down.” y/n shook her head with a laugh.

“oh don’t i know it!” garcia piped in from her placed leaned against jj’s desk. at the intrusion, emily sent a glare her way. penelope grimaced and turned to face jj in fear.

“you’ve been looking for me?” emily asked curiously.

“i have for quite a while actually,” y/n smiled softly before waving the folder in emily’s direction. “we’re still married. and have been for about 20 years now. and let me just say, you’ve got a hell of a lot of anniversary gifts to make up for babe.”

“married?!” garcia exclaimed before slapping her hand over her mouth.

emily’s eyes widened exponentially as she caught all of the team’s eyes on her. the shock was evident on everyone’s face and she honestly couldn’t wash it off her own face.

“how about we go to my office and talk about this?” emily recovered, grabbing the folder and nodding toward the office upstairs.

“of course.” y/n nodded and followed emily into the office.

emily pointedly closed the door on prying eyes and turned to face y/n, “now that you’ve successfully fueled the office gossip fire for at least the next month. married for 20 years? is this about the netherlands? didn’t we get that annulled after we got back?”

“i thought so too. until i was a few weeks out from my wedding and they let us know that i was still in fact married according to netherlandian law.” y/n shrugged collapsing onto the couch.

“well i don’t think they call it netherlandian law,” emily paused catching the first part of what y/n said. “oh! you’re engaged. and i’m keeping you from getting married. i can try to get garcia to pull some strings online to help get the divorce finalized faster. or i can call someone over at interpol, im sure they can do something.”

y/n chuckled affectionately, “well while i appreciate the fact that you’d abuse your access to government resources for my sake. that ship has long sailed. the fact i was still married was the least of our problems. but i found that out and tried to track you down and that’s when your mother, still as lovely as i remember, let me know you had died.” y/n deadpanned, leveling emily with a look she knew very well.

“yeah, that was a whole thing.” emily grimaced.

“uh huh, im sure it was. after that, i just went with the whole widowed thing for a bit. until i heard again from your mother, so lovely, that you were alive again.”

“i didn’t realize you and my mother spoke so frequently.” emily mumbled taking a seat on the couch as well.

“you just keep giving us reasons to gab. anyways, i was in the states and figured id try to catch you after all these years. i brought the papers and figured you could sign them.”

“of course. i wouldn’t want to keep you from another marriage.” emily nodded hastily grabbing a pen to sign off.

“ah i figured you’d have run into the issue before me.”

emily dotted her and slid the folder back to y/n, “no, no one worth marrying. well besides you apparently.”

y/n smiled and giggled, “had i been aware, i would’ve been a far better wife to you but at least i didn’t widow you.”

“oh come on! what do you want me to say? had i known we were still married, i wouldn’t have died?” emily laugh incredulously.

“you had a wife to come home to, it could’ve been motivation.”

emily’s smile was free and contagious, “god you haven’t changed a bit.”

“not much sweet, but i can tell you have. lot of responsibility you got here agent.” y/n smiled sadly. “i hope you’re taking care of yourself. and your team.” there was a beat of admiration that washed over y/n’s face before she sighed and gathered the papers. “listen i’ll get out of your hair. thanks for divorcing me. always a pleasure seeing you.” y/n stood from the couch, emily following.

“of course, are you headed back right away?” emily asked hopefully.

“no i’m in the states for a bit for work, why?” y/n asked.

“oh i was just curious. figured maybe i could make up for this 20 anniversary dinners i missed.”

y/n grinned, “agent prentiss, are you asking me on a date?”

“i think i might be asking you on at least 20, if you want to of course.”

y/n walked over to emily’s desk and grabbed a pen and sticky note. scribbling something down and tucked the post it in emily’s blazer pocket with a smirk. “you better get planning then.” y/n threw a wink over her shoulder and left the office with a smile. all the agents scattered to make it seem like they weren’t intently trying to figure out what was going on behind the closed door. y/n stopped at garcia and smiled sweetly, “thank you penelope. have a good day everyone.”

everyone mumbled their replies and watched as emily’s alleged wife exit the bullpen. as soon as the elevators closed they all hurried up the stairs to emily’s open door.

“you’re married?!” garcia was the first to exclaim and emily sighed in exasperation. she eyed her chosen family and knew she wasn’t getting out of answering this. at all.

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sickoherd · 11 months ago

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It's my birthday today 🎉 can I request something sweet with our lovely gray haired uni chief Emily who's in an established relationship with BAU reader? Emily is more all soft and sweet throughout the day than normally. Little kiss here, little touch there. Oh Bailey saw us kissing, holding hands? Screw him it's her baby's birthday and she's gonna get all of Em's lovin' 😌 maybe Emily plans a nice little birthday bit at the office for reader at the end of the workday, who knows? Go where your thoughts lead author 🫶

Happy Birthday! I hope you’ve had a wonderful day, and hopefully this lil fic is what you were hoping for! ❤️

Tags: fluff, soft!emily, bailey being stupid, some allusion to intimacy, just cute tbh

Word count: 1219

All mistakes are my own!

Anything for You

Birthdays have never been a big deal for you. Just another day in the year, reminding you that time is fleeting and that some things stay the same whilst everything is different. Your birthday was one of the few secrets you had kept from the team when you first joined, not wanting them to feel obligated to acknowledge it, or you for that matter.

However, after dating Emily for the past three years, it became clear that she would do everything in her power to make you feel special and deserving of the love you received. Today is the fourth birthday you’ve spent under the loving eyes of one Emily Prentiss. She had woken you with soft kisses, and promising whispers, her fingers gliding over your already heated skin, gifting you a pleasure you never grew tired of. As you showered that morning, Emily prepared a breakfast for the two of you to share, basking in the moments before you arrived at work.

Sharing one final kiss that never failed to leave you breathless, the elevator doors finally opened and you were welcomed by the team grinning wildly as they shouted happy birthday. Your heart clenched with gratitude, as you were still unable to comprehend how you’d found such wonderful people. The rest of the day passed by rather uneventfully, the only thing getting you through was the gentle touches and lingering glances your girlfriend had been providing you with.

A couple of hours after you’d settled at your desk, she appeared beside you with a steaming mug of your favourite tea, followed by a kiss to the top of your head. You looked up with a fond smile, “Thank you, Em.” Her fingers lingered at the back of your neck, playing with the few loose curls there, a similar smile painted on her face. “Anything for the birthday girl.” With one last lingering kiss to your forehead, she sauntered back to her office, leaving you to continue your paperwork with flushed cheeks and a warm heart.

At lunch time, you found yourself pressed up against the office kitchen counter, your fingers tangling in her silver locks as she kissed you languidly. Her own hands were resting on your waist, a thumb stroking the skin exposed at the bottom of your shirt. Sighing softly into her mouth, you don’t hear the clearing of a throat, too wrapped up in the older woman. The way she held you so tenderly and kissed you like it was all she needed to survive made your heart burst with adoration and affection. Love wasn’t something you ever imagined you’d find, all too content to pursue your career at the FBI; yet love found you with dark, entrancing eyes and silver hair that twinkled under the right light. It found you with late nights spent sharing a bottle in her office after a particularly hard case, or curled up on your couch for another weekend marathon of your favourite rom coms.

“Ahem…!” Pulling back, you were greeted by the sight of a flushed Douglas Bailey, who was trying his hardest not to stare — but was failing miserably — instead glancing around the kitchen nervously. “Need I remind you, you are in the workplace?” His voice was clipped, and a tinge of embarrassment was evident in his tone. You couldn’t help but notice the desire and jealousy that emanated from him, all too aware of his previous relationships that had seen a burning end.

At Emily’s voice, you tucked your head into her neck, feeling the heat spread across your face from being caught. “Sorry, it was her scheduled lunchtime birthday kiss! Come on, darling, let’s get back to work.” The wink she sent your way told you, ‘I’m going to kiss the living daylights out of you in my office’, and you were more than happy to oblige.

The seven of you gathered at the round table later that day to go over several details of the most recent case, often finding it easier to get the information down when you had other people to help you recount anything you’d forgotten. You and Emily had opted to sit on the sofa lining the back wall, with your legs slung over her lap as she massaged your calves subconsciously, her main focus on reading another report. The team shared a smile at your antics, very familiar with your usual lack of PDA that always came into fruition on either of your birthdays.

It’s finally 6pm, as you walk towards the bullpen, squealing in surprise as Emily snags your arm from around a corner and pulls you into a hug. Her arms wind around you, snaking a hand into your hair so she can pull you in close enough to inhale your scent; the other sitting at the small of your back. Despite your initial shock, you return the hug equally as tight, humming at the contact as her fingers card through your hair. “Let me guess, end of day birthday hug?” You close your eyes and sink into her touch, a smile playing on your lips as she chuckles against you. “Yeah, something like that.”

A quiet falls around you, as you grip onto the other woman, just appreciating the moment for what it is. Until a quiet, “Oh for god’s sake…” sounds from behind you, followed by quick footsteps. You crack open an eye to see Bailey almost sprinting down the hall, holding back a snort as he turns to look at your embrace once more with reddened cheeks. As you pull back from one another, Emily slips her hand into yours and begins leading you back, up the ramp and into the newly decorated round table room.

Balloons and streamers adorn the walls, along with fairy lights and a large banner that reads Happy Birthday <3. There’s no stopping the dopey grin that consumes your face as the team yells “surprise!”, pulling party poppers and blowing party blowers with their own excited smiles.

“You did all this?” As you turn to Emily, you feel tears begin to prick at your eyes, overcome with love and acceptance. “Of course I did, my love.” She brings your joined hands up to her mouth, and presses a loving kiss to your knuckles, her eyes never leaving yours. In the beginning of your relationship, Emily had been terrified of being able to give you the love and dedication she felt you deserved. But now, it came as a second nature, every thought and decision she had was made with you in mind. Her only desire was to make you happy, and god did she.

”I love you,” you whisper.

”I love you too.”

The party eventually moves to O’Keefes, where you all spend the night dancing and laughing, with Emily’s tender touch always there and her kisses soft and all consuming. So when she got down on one knee when you returned home that night, there was no hesitation when you all but screamed “Yes!” Flinging yourself into her embrace, smattering her face with kisses and falling into bed for a night of unhindered passion.

Emily Prentiss made birthdays something to look forward to. No longer a reminder of the passing days, but a promise of the days to come with the love of your life beside you.

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sickoherd · 11 months ago

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Dermatophagia — E. Prentiss.

a/n: short little blurb on baby emily because nobody ever talks about the feeling of impending doom that must’ve lingered after coming back to the U.S. from the Valhalla mission.

wc: ~600

warnings: nail biting, bleeding, pining so subtle it’s almost not there? no use of y/n, first thing i’ve written since 2022, very little dialogue, not proof read mwuahaha

feedback, comments, and reblogs are always super very appreciated:3

Emily watched as the blood pooled in the small divot between her skin and her nail, the stream of liquid soon expanding to fill the space. It served as a distraction, the repetitive process of picking, bleeding, healing became a reprieve from the feeling of impending doom that always managed to creep over her shoulder. She was too caught up in the sight to realize you’d joined her in the small space of her desk.

“Em, is that blood?” you muttered, reaching for her hand which proved to be useless as she quickly pulled it back with a startled look on her face.

“God! When’d you get here?” She said, turning her gaze from your unamused face to where you sat at the edge of her desk, arms folded over your chest. “We need to put a bell on you or something.”

“Haha, funny.” You replied, unfolding your arms as you reached out for her hand again, this time successfully. Your eyes scanned Emily’s finger which was now bordering mutilation, the skin around her nails uneven and torn. You never understood how she could do it, how in a matter of seconds her fingers could resemble the gruesome scenes you encountered day to day.

“Seriously, are you bleeding?” a redundant question from your end because it was very clear she was. Emily had to bite her tongue to keep the sarcastic comment that had developed like a reflex on a leash.

“Why do you pick your nails?” you asked, your eyes scanning the wound as you placed a napkin over the spot before looking back up at her. You were met with an anxious look, one that reminded you of a child who was scared of being scolded. She tilted her head from side to side, unsure of what to say, and as she did so her hair shifted from behind her ear in a way that made you want to tuck it back into place.

“I don’t know,”

“I don’t usually think about it,” she said, the way you hadn’t let go of her hand made her heartrate pickup, and she tried not to over analyze how you chose to place it on your lap. The contrast between her cold hands and your warm fingers holding the napkin in place made her want to seek out more of that warmth.

She shouldn’t be surprised you were helping her; you’d always go out of your way to swat at her hands whenever they began a path up to her mouth, or place a cup of coffee in them in an attempt to keep them from meeting their demise. She often wondered why you did so, as nobody else really bothered; yet, she never asked. Instead, she’d just allow it. She’d secretly relish in the fact that somebody finally noticed, even if she pretended to hate it.

“That much I've picked up on,” you said softly, a faint smile on your lips as you discarded the napkin that was now stained with blood. Your grip tightened slightly on Emily’s hand as you reached for the trash can, almost as if you were refusing to let it go.

For a moment, the two of you fell into a comfortable silence, the air heavy with unspoken thoughts. Emily looked down at your intertwined hands and felt an unfamiliar warmth spread through her chest, something she hadn't allowed herself to feel in a long time. She wasn't used to being cared for—not like this. And while she could pretend all she wanted, the truth was, she liked it.

Maybe that's why she hadn’t pulled away, because for the first time in a very long time Emily wasn’t the only one looking out for Emily.

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sickoherd · 1 year ago

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I have a request but I’d understand if you’re getting too many and you don’t want to do this one. I wanted to request a super soft fic like you wake up Emily in the middle of the night because you can’t sleep and you keep asking silly questions like “would you still love me if I was a worm?” And she is super sleepy but tries to comfort you into falling asleep again and answering you as you want

This is the cutest thing ever I giggled

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Midnight whispers | emily prentiss x reader

Tags: established relationship, reader being kinda annoying, fluff, endlessly sweet fluff u guys, no use of yn, use of petnames

Word count: 1.2k

It’s 3:47.

You know because it’s been less than two minutes since you’d last looked at the clock before closing your eyes, fruitfully hoping for the sweet relief of sleep.

Shockingly, it doesn’t come.

Which doesn’t make sense, really, because you can feel the exhaustion in your bones and pressing down on your eyes. You’d been tossing and turning ever since you’d climbed into bed with Emily, your girlfriend falling fast asleep after she gave you a chaste kiss goodnight. You can hear her deep breathing right next to you and you’re slightly envious.

The room is dark, only a sliver of moonlight creeping in through the curtain providing sparse illumination. It’s reasonably cold, a light chill that has you covered beneath the blanket, and the air is still with the silence of midnight hours—all optimal conditions for you to comfortably fall asleep in, but it still evades you. Emily’s sleeping body provides warmth, too; her head is halfway onto your pillow, her slow breaths fanning across your neck.

Your eyes slide to her and you bite your lip. Should you wake her? You’re tired of wallowing in this misery for over—3:48 now—5 hours on your own, even if your sluggish brain struggles to justify how she could help.

Her chest rises and falls with slow, even breaths, her lashes dark and resting gently on her cheeks. She needs the sleep, you know she does, and some part of your heart resists waking her for your own selfish reasons.

But company is nice, even sleepy company, so you push aside the guilt and shake her gently.

“Emily,” you whisper.

Her brows furrow.

It takes a few more shakes and whispers of her name before her eyes crack open. Deep brown irises stare into yours, tired and hazy with sleep.

“What?” She mumbles. Her hand clumsily reaches for yours; it’s cold. “You ’kay?”

Is it wrong that the rough warmth of her voice already makes your muscles relax? You bring her hand up to your lips, pressing an apology to the ridges of her knuckles.

“I’m okay.” You say, kind of feeling like the worst person in the world right now. “Just can’t sleep.”

Emily frowns deeper. “Nightmare?” She whispers, her eyes growing more alert.

“No, no,” you’re quick to reassure. The concern above her brow loosens, and her lashes flutter closed again. “Couldn’t sleep to begin with.” With her hand in yours, your lips find her temple.

“Drank too much coffee?” The rasp of her voice is muffled into your neck as you trail a few kisses to her cheekbone. You’re probably being insufferable, but she doesn’t pull away—though you begin to think that’s from the sluggishness of sleep more than anything.

“Just as much as you.”

Two cups, hers with an insulting amount of Splenda and yours with decidedly less.

Emily doesn’t reply. You lean back against your pillow and find her eyes closed again. The large t-shirt she’s wearing slips down her shoulder, exposes her pale skin that looks moonlit, smooth as ivory.

Your heart thumps softly against your ribs as you smile. “Hey Emily?”

She hums sleepily.

“Do you love me?”

The corner of her mouth curls upward. “You’re sleepin’ in my bed, amor.” The combination of her sleepy voice and the Spanish makes you melt into the mattress, a stupid heat in your cheeks.

You tuck your joint hands beneath your jaw. “But that could mean nothing.”

“Means everythin’.” She whispers. Her eyes are still closed, her mouth barely moving. You should leave her alone now, but you just want to talk to her when she’s like this; sleepy and lovely, her body warm in some places and cold in others, the hushed timbre of her voice calming your restless mind.

“So you do love me?”

“Mmhmm.” Emily hums. Bless her patience. Her fingers flex between yours and you lift them from their hiding place under your jaw, bringing her hand to your lips instead. Emily exhales through her nose, the sound lazy and content as she digs her face further into your pillow.

She’s drifting again, and you’re still wide awake. “Would you still love me if I was a worm?” You blurt, squeezing her fingers.

Emily’s eyes crack open. “You’d be a cute worm,” she slurs, the small indent of a dimple digging into her cheek. You grin and she shuffles closer, her shoulder touching yours, your heads softly knocking together, “You’d be a cute anythin’.”

Again, she avoids the question. “But would you love me?” You persist. Leaning further into her, you nuzzle your nose against hers, a stupid smile forming on your lips when she scrunches her face adorably, her eyes fluttering open again.

“I’d be head over heels for you.” Emily states, now leaning into you to nuzzle her nose into yours. “Our romance would be no less epic,” her words drift into a mumble as exhaustion takes her again, forcing her eyes shut.

Even half asleep, she’s a charmer. You stare a moment at her relaxed face, letting the warmth of it rush through your whole body. Her slow breaths fall against your upper lip, warm and rhythmic.

“Do you think we’re in love in every universe?” You whisper. What is it with all these questions about love? “If I was a barista maybe, and you’d be enchanted by the color of my eyes as I gave you your coffee?” You muse, playing with her limp fingers. “Or if we’re both butterflies taking naps in the same flower—”

“Baby, please go to sleep,” Emily mumbles, her words slurring together adorably. She never calls you baby; your grin stretches wide. She untangles her fingers from yours and wraps her arm messily around your neck, bringing you into her chest. “I’ll hold ya, jus’ please sleep.” The words are lost in your hair.

You smile into her warm neck. “Oh, well, if you’ll hold me.” You tease softly, but there really is something so magical about feeling Emily’s chest rise and fall beneath yours. Hearing her steady pulse, her slow breaths, feeling her cold hand sleepily tangle in your hair. It’s easy, closing your eyes, and as she starts to drift, you feel yourself drift with her.

“Can I have a kiss?” You ask softly.

Emily nuzzles her lips into your forehead.

She’s so much softer like this, when she’s half awake. Emily is never harsh with you, but like this she’s completely unfiltered, stripped bare of her walls and her inhibitions, and you’re drunk on it, on her, on the fact that you get to see her like this.

Your eyes finally begin to grow heavy. Lashes fluttering shut, you breathe in Emily’s scent—the expensive lotion she’d rubbed into her skin before bed.

“Emily?” You whisper.

Silence rings in your ears. You try again.

“’Mily?”

A breath comes out of her, exhale or sigh you don’t know. “Yeah, hon.” She mumbles.

You bury your face deeper into her neck, until you feel her slow pulse. “I’m so in love with you.” You admit to the softness of her skin. Think it might kill me one day.

“Mmm, ditto.”

It’s disgustingly cliche, but in her arms, her lips still against your forehead, it takes no time at all for sleep to finally steal you away. 4:00 comes and you’re both fast asleep, your body curled around Emily’s, her hand still in your hair.

Taglist: @suckerforcate @sickoherd @lextism

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sickoherd · 1 year ago

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is it over now?

Summary: At first, you had been avoiding her most of the time, only talking to her when necessary, and Emily didn't know why until one day she asked JJ. The media liaison told her about Elle, the one Emily replaced in the team, and that she was your best friend. Genre: Angst with happy ending (for reader lol) Pairing: (Present) Emily Prentiss x Reader ; (Past) Elle Greenaway x Reader Warnings: one suggestive scene, mention of elle's incident/trauma, hostage scene from minimal loss?? i guess that's it, lmk if i missed something Word count: 7.2K+

A/N:

Basically inspired by Taylor Swift's "Is It Over Now?" and rewatching early seasons of Criminal Minds. I miss Elle Greenaway. She and Emily would have been a badass duo.

This is not proofread so sorry for any grammar and spelling mistakes. All comments, reblogs, and likes are encouraged and appreciated. <3

AO3

Elle had already packed all of her things except for the few clothes that she will be wearing tonight and tomorrow for her flight to Chicago. She had no idea why Chicago specifically but anywhere was better than here. All she wanted was to leave this house, this place, this fucking street, and everything that reminded her of what The Fisher King did to her. When she zones out a couple of times during the day, she swore she could still see a little splash of blood - her blood - on the wall.

Elle was waiting for the pizza to arrive. Although she wanted to have something she cooked, all of her stuff was already in boxes and she’s too tired to even get a spoon out. She was about to turn on the TV when there was a knock on the door. It was her instinct, or probably a routine, to reach out for her gun - not the one she used at work, that one’s already surrendered. She recently bought this one specifically to protect herself. Because she swore to herself that even when she’s no longer in the FBI, she’ll never be defenseless. Not again.

She was told the pizza will arrive in forty five minutes. It’s only been ten. Who could possibly be knocking on her door?

Elle peeked through the peephole and sighed in relief when she saw you standing outside. It was just you, thank god. She opened the door. “Y/N? What are you doing here?”

“You can’t leave,” you said, standing outside like a lost puppy. You have rehearsed things better in your head but you said it like you’re ordering her when you were actually begging her not to go.

“You’re not the boss of me.” Elle responded, folding her arms and furrowing her brows.

You cleared your throat, fingers fidgeting on the button of your coat. “I-I didn’t mean it like that. I’m sorry.” You sighed deeply, looking down on your shoes then to the ground. She didn’t even have the ‘welcome home’ mat on her doorstep anymore. “W-where are you gonna go?”

Elle looked around before letting you in and closing the door behind you. She had been paranoid ever since she was shot and you couldn’t blame her. You would be too if it was you.

“I’m moving to Chicago.” Elle said quietly. You could see the dark circles in her eyes, the way she lost a little weight, and the way her lips were chapped.

She sat in the armchair and leaned her head back, staring at the ceiling. You sat on the coffee table as there was nothing else to sit on. Her furniture was all covered and ready to be moved.

The two of you sat quietly in the living room. She was staring at the ceiling while you were staring at her, trying to find the words to say.

“I don’t know what to do,” Elle said after several moments of uncomfortable silence.

“Do you really want to leave?”

She paused and thought about her answer. Did she really want to leave? The BAU was her life, her dream, her everything. Her heart and soul were in that team and in each of the members, especially you. You had grown close to Elle, became her best friend and held a piece of her heart.

“No,” Elle sighed. “I don’t want to leave. The thought of leaving is actually ripping me apart. But… I don’t see what other choice I have. I’ve been a liability to the team.”

“You’re not. You’re a great agent, Elle. You have the heart for the victims, for the families of these victims. We all do it because it’s the job but you… you do it for them.”

Elle smiled faintly. Her eyes were watering and in her emotional and exhausted state, she was unable to stop the tears from rolling down her cheeks. “And look where that got me.” She said bitterly.

Your eyes started tearing up too. You reached for her hand and Elle didn’t flinch. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there.”

Elle closed her eyes, squeezing new and fresh tears out. A drop or two still slipped down her cheeks and landed silently on the back of your hand. “It wasn’t your fault.”

Why did it have to go this way? Elle was angry at the world, at her life, at everybody. But the one person she could never be angry with was you.

You squeezed Elle’s hand. “It wasn’t but I’m still sorry.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong.” Elle wiped your tears and chuckled half-heartedly.

“I love you, Elle.” You blurted out through the sobs.

Elle’s breath caught in her throat. Her heart and stomach felt like they had just simultaneously dropped to her feet. She squeezed her eyes shut tightly in an attempt to hold back the sudden onslaught of tears.

“Don’t say stuff like that.” She whispered to you, her voice cracking and threatening to give away.

“But I do love you,” You said firmly. “And if you’re gonna leave and start over somewhere to feel safe and happy and be yourself again, then that’s what I want for you. But I hope you know that I love you… and I always will.”

Elle had no choice now. She couldn’t stop her tears from flowing. Hearing those three little words from you was both the best and worst thing ever. Elle knew she loved you as her best friend but the way you spoke those words, Elle knew there was something else, something much deeper and out of her control.

“I don’t want to go. I don’t want to leave you.” Her voice cracked under the weight of her emotions as she responded. It was difficult to get the words out; her throat felt tight and it was painful.

You forced a smile, quickly wiping your cheeks off of tears. “Don’t worry about me.”

“You know I always will,” Elle replied. She could see right through your smile. She knew you and she knew she was hurting you. Without hesitation, Elle got to her feet and wrapped her arms tightly around you, pulling your head into her chest and holding on for dear life.

Elle had never been this intimate, open, and vulnerable with anyone. But she felt safe letting her guard down with you. You, who loved her as she was.

After a few moments, Elle pulled away from the hug to look at you properly. Your face was red from crying and your eyes never looked so lost and sad. “Promise me something.”

“Anything,” you quickly answered.

Elle flashed a small smile. She knew this was somewhat unfair to ask of you but she needed to say it. “Promise me you won’t stop loving me.”

“Never. I’ll always love you.”

That reassured and comforted Elle more than she could verbalize. She didn’t need to hear anything else tonight. She just needed you.

“If I asked you to stay, just for tonight, would you?” Elle asked, her hand gripping the armchair. The thought of being alone in this house was making her uneasy again. She knew her mind was going to start drifting to darker thoughts and she didn’t want that.

But without any hesitation, you nodded.

Elle knew she shouldn’t have asked. It wasn’t fair to ask you to stay with her just because she didn’t feel safe in her own home. She was terrified of being by herself in this house that was soon no longer going to be hers.

Elle looked at you, trying to keep her voice steady as she spoke, “You wouldn’t mind?”

“No.” You shook your head. “Please ask me to stay.”

That was all she needed. “Please stay.”

“I’ll stay.”

When the pizza arrived fifteen minutes later, you were the one that opened the door and received the delivery. You carefully put the food down on the table.

“Sorry, I only have one disposable cup.” Elle said.

“It’s alright. We can share if you don’t mind.” You sat on the floor, picking up a slice.

She smiled at you and poured the soda on the cup.

The two of you ate quietly as you watched the TV. Elle let you have the last slice and you mumbled a thanks. After both of you were satisfied, you helped Elle clean up the mess.

“Let’s go to bed.” You said softly an hour later, pulling her gently to her feet.

Elle didn’t put up a fight to this at all. Exhaustion was well and truly setting in now. She allowed you to lead her upstairs and into her bedroom. She crawled into her bed, curled up and shuffled over to the far side to let you in as well.

The two of you lied there in silence, just enjoying each other’s presence. It felt natural, as though the two of you laying there together in bed was the most normal thing in the world and not actually the first time that you shared a bed.

After several minutes of silence, just as Elle thought that you might have fallen asleep, she heard you speak quietly in the dark. “I’ll miss you.”

Elle swallowed and tried to ignore the lump that had now formed in her throat. She knew she’d miss you too, so badly that it hurt, that she was actually having second thoughts about leaving for a minute. “I’ll miss you too.”

“But I want you to heal, to move on, to be happy. I want you to get back the drive you had before… everything.”

Elle found it hard to keep her feelings at bay now. She was too tired to try and keep them in; the need to hold you was taking precedence over her own demons. When you felt Elle turn around, you turned around and faced her too. Elle looked across the bed in the dark, at the outline of the woman lying next to her. “I have a confession to make.”

You didn’t say anything but listened to her attentively.

Elle’s whole body tensed. This was it. She was going to say it. Whatever the repercussions, she knew she needed to tell you. It was now or never and all her emotional defenses were long gone.

Elle took a deep, shuddering breath. “I love you,” She whispered. “And I don’t mean as a best friend. I’m in love with you and I have been for a long time.”

“I love you too.”

Elle’s heart skipped a beat. She hadn’t been expecting such a quick response from you. She laid motionless for a few long seconds, almost in shock. She had to confirm it, just to make sure this was really happening and she wasn’t dreaming of some imaginary scenario. “You… you do?”

You were confused for a second. “Did you think that when I told you I loved you earlier… did you… did you think I meant it just as my best friend?”

Elle smiled faintly in the dark. This was such a different response to what she was expecting. She had longed for this moment that it felt too good to be true now that it was here. “I… I wasn’t expecting for you to mean it that way…” She mumbled. Her breathing was uneven and shaky and all she wanted to do was reach out and touch you.

“Oh,” you bit your tongue. “Sorry I wasn’t clear about that.”

“No, no. You don’t need to apologize.” She quickly reassured you. It wasn’t the meaning of the words that surprised her, it was the fact that you had said it. You, saying the words that had left her heart aching for so long.

Elle slowly reached across the bed, her fingers resting on your hip, just to be sure you were still there, that this was happening.

“I love you, Elle.” You murmured. “You’ll always have a special place in my heart.”

Your words sent a rush of unfamiliar but wonderful emotions through Elle. A special place in your heart was all she ever wanted. Her hand involuntarily gripped a little tighter, holding onto you.

“I know you’re not gonna change your mind about leaving.” You continued, feeling yourself on the verge of tears again but tried your hardest to hold back. “And I don’t want you to. I know you need it, need to leave this place, leave everything and everyone behind. But I hope you know that… you can always come back to me.”

A slight pang of guilt hit Elle as she heard the words. She hadn’t really thought about how this would all make you feel as well, selfishly thinking about herself and her own feelings alone. Leaving was going to be much more difficult now and that realization was making the situation even more painful.

“Will you wait for me?” Elle found herself whispering without thinking. She instantly bit her tongue, worried about how desperate that sounded.

“Will you promise to come back?” You asked, matching the desperation in her tone.

Elle’s heart twisted in her chest. Leaving itself was going to be hard but leaving with an open promise to her best friend to come back? That made the whole thing much, much more complex and difficult.

“I can’t promise to come back,” she said quietly, a pang of guilt hitting her once more, making her stomach knot lightly. “But I can promise to try.”

You nodded in understanding. “Then I will try to wait.”

Your reply both reassured and worried Elle. Of course, it was a huge ask to expect you to wait without any certainty of when or if she might come back. But on the other hand, the fact that you were prepared to even try was already more than she deserved.

“You’ll always be my best friend. No matter what. No matter where you are.”

“Will you think about me?” The words slipped out of Elle’s mouth without thinking again. She was still struggling to process this. Having her best friend, who she had been in love with for two years, tell her she loves her too, and the same best friend she’s going to leave behind. It was a lot for her emotional and exhausted mind to handle at that moment. The only part of her that was functioning was her mouth and all unfiltered words just spilled out.

“The question is will I ever stop?” You let out a bitter chuckle.

“I won’t ever stop thinking about you either.”

“Don’t forget me, okay?” You didn’t care how desperate you sounded now. You gently stroked her cheek as if trying to force your hand to never forget how her skin felt against your palm.

The thought of ever forgetting you was laughable to Elle. A quiet, slightly nervous laugh escaped her lips. “How could I forget you? That’s physically impossible. It’s like asking me to forget my own name.”

As the words left her mouth, a question of her own popped into mind. If you could wait for her, and she could do the same in return, did that change your relationship now?

Elle swallowed, the lump in her throat returning. It was difficult to ask the question since she wasn’t entirely sure what response she was hoping for but she found herself needing to know.

Her fingers continued its grip on your hip as if letting go would cause you to float away into the darkness. “Does this… does this change things?” Elle asked quietly.

“Do you want it to change things?”

The question took her a little off guard, and she was thankful for the darkness in that moment. She was glad that whatever expression was on her face wouldn’t be able to be seen, although she was sure the nervous tension in her grip gave something away. She wasn’t really sure she even knew the answer herself. The whole thing was so overwhelming, especially considering her current emotional state.

Still, the last thing she wanted to do was lie to her, so she decided honesty was the best policy.

“Yes… and no.” Elle answered.

Elle took a deep breath, trying to steady her thoughts. There was so much going on in her head, and putting those thoughts into words was complicated and difficult. The two of them lying side by side in her bed in the dark, both having just confessed their love for each other still felt unreal. But she was also aware of the circumstances, the fact that at this moment they were basically in a relationship. One that she’s going to leave behind tomorrow.

Her grip on your hip subconsciously tightened, and her voice was even quieter when she spoke again. “Yes, I want things to change between us, but I don’t know if it should. I don’t know if it’s the right thing to do, considering I’m about to leave. It’s not fair to you…”

“Then it doesn't have to change anything.” You said in finality.

The words hit her like a punch in the stomach. Even though it was the logical, sensible choice - and the one she had wanted to hear - she still didn’t realize how much it all hurt. The prospect of laying her head down on her pillow every night and knowing the woman she’d been secretly in love with for so long was lying next to her… and this moment was probably the only time, the only memory she will hold on to.

Elle swallowed the lump in her throat. She would just have to endure it. It was the right thing to do.

“Elle?” Your voice brought her out of her train of thought and she hummed in response. “Will you kiss me? Just once. Just for tonight.”

Elle’s breath caught, a sudden mix of love and pain and overwhelming want filling her entire body. The thought of getting to kiss her best friend, the woman who she’d been dreaming about being with for so long… even just for one night, she knew she couldn’t refuse.

Elle let out an almost imperceptible, shaky breath. “Come here.”

Without waiting for a response, her hands pulled on your hips, rolling you over and pulling you closer to her in one swift movement. She quickly brought her arms around your waist, holding you gently against her as she felt her body shift closer, your chest now pressed up against her own. With your head resting against the same pillow as her, the two of you now lying face to face in the dark, she could easily see the shape of your face in the faint moonlight coming through the curtains.

For once, Elle was lost for words. Her head was just a cacophony of thoughts and feelings, her stomach churning, her heart beating furiously, and her mind full of a combination of nervousness and want. But more than anything else, her eyes were focused on your mouth, the outline of your jaw and the curve of your lips. The lips she had so desperately wanted to kiss for two years, and was now laying within millimeters of.

One of Elle’s hands gently and slowly slipped up your back, her fingers tracing a gentle path upwards to the back of your head, her fingers entangling into your hair. It might be the first and last time she ever got to touch you like this; she didn’t want to waste a second.

Her voice was barely more than a whisper in the still night air. “Can I?”

“Please.” You answered quickly, desperation lacing your voice.

That was all the confirmation Elle needed. All her worries and hesitations left her mind at that moment. This would only be for one night, and she was going to make the most of it. Even if it might be the last time she’d ever get to hold you like this.

With a small, shaky inhale of breath, her own lips were moving against yours in the dark, finally feeling the kiss that she had been dreaming of for years.

As soon as your lips met, any rational thoughts completely left her mind. Her heart completely overpowered her brain, her head suddenly filled with nothing but the feeling of kissing the woman she loved. The feel of your body in her arms, the feeling of your lips against her own, the scent of your hair - it all overwhelmed her to the point that she wondered if this could possibly be real. Elle held on tight, making sure she didn’t let this moment go.

It felt so unreal, and she had a feeling that if she hadn’t been lying down, her legs likely would’ve given out at that moment. Just feeling you, her best friend, now her lover for one night, pressed up against her in her arms was enough to make her head spin. She pulled your body closer against her own, desperately wanting to feel more of you, to feel you all over.

You pulled away after what felt like hours, catching your breath. You pressed your forehead against hers. “I love you, Elle.” You murmured, voice laced with love, desire, and a hint of sadness.

The words made Elle’s heart ache, and her chest felt almost tight. She took a shaky breath as she tried to get her own breaths and emotions under control.

Her own voice was quiet, with a hint of vulnerability. It was as if she had forgotten how to talk all of a sudden, and it was only her love and overwhelming want that was spurring her to speak. “I love you too.”

Elle’s hand slid under the fabric of your shirt, her fingertips gently tracing over the skin of your waist. She was greedy - wanting to feel and memorize every part of you, touch you in every way possible, in case there was not a chance that she would get the opportunity to again. A small, shaky exhale escaped her lips in the dark, her head spinning from the realization of it all: this was real. She was actually holding the woman she’d loved for years in her arms.

Her head was spinning, and her heart was racing. Her fingertips slowly traced across your stomach, moving up over your ribs and side, gently up towards the curve of her shoulder. The knowledge that this might be the only and last night that she could ever hold you like this made her heart ache in a way that was almost unbearable. So she held her tighter, pulling you impossibly closer against her, her legs gently intertwining with yours.

“Can you turn on the night light?” You requested all of a sudden.

The request was unexpected, and she wondered if perhaps she had pushed things too far, too fast. But the words still sent a shiver down her spine - the thought of turning her night light on and being able to see the woman she loved lying next to her… that was a different level of intensity.

Elle swallowed faintly and nodded, reaching over to the bedside table to gently turn on the small night light that cast a gentle glow across the room.

You reached for her cheek, gently stroking it, your thumb traced her lower lip. “If this is the only night I’ll be with you like this, I want to see you.”

A faint shiver ran down her spine at the gentle touch of your thumb against her lip. Elle let out another faint huff of breath, both feeling overwhelmed yet desperate for more.

At that moment, you knew that if you only had one night, you were going to make the most of it. You had to.

It wasn't long before the two of you were tangled under the covers. Promises, reassurances, and declarations were whispered and made and moaned out of your mouth and Elle’s.

You both knew that no matter what happens now, you both will have tonight.

And when the morning came, you said goodbyes at the door. You didn't have the heart to take her to the airport. You wanted to but you’re afraid you won't let her go if Elle gives you one last hug.

“Don’t be a stranger, Elle Greenaway.” You said, trying to make it sound like a threat but you were too sad. You missed her already.

“I won't.” She promised, pressing a soft kiss on your temple. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” You swallowed the lump forming in your throat. You promised her you wouldn't cry. “Call me, okay? I’ll always answer. Unless I get kidnapped or something, then maybe I’ll call you back, huh?”

“Shut up, smartass.” Elle shoved your shoulder playfully. “I’ll keep in touch with you, I promise.”

“Have a safe flight.”

“Drive safe.”

It took everything in you to not break down the second you started driving away. The image of Elle waving goodbye in front of her house was forever etched in your memory.

—

It was a big adjustment when Elle left. It felt strange not seeing her on her desk, reading case files and occasionally going through her purse if she got too bored. You missed her. You missed your best friend.

It wasn't long before Elle was replaced by another agent. You knew she would be replaced. The BAU was a workplace after all. Everybody gets replaced.

JJ said she saw the new agent at Hotch’s office and that she had the same hair color, same build, and same energy as Elle’s.

You felt your stomach knot tightly at the thought of Elle being replaced by a clone.

Hotch introduced Emily Prentiss to the team before the briefing of the new case. She stood up and reached out to everyone for a handshake. You took her hand, trying to be professional and respectful.

When JJ started briefing you all about the case, your eyes couldn't stop wandering to Emily. Her hair was shiny, straight, and not a single strand out of place. She had a healthy posture even when she’s sitting, almost like she was trained to be a model. Her big brown eyes and captivating smile and eagerness made her look like an excited baby deer.

As the weeks passed by, you learned more about Emily. May it be because she was new to the team or was just a people pleaser, Emily overcompensated a lot. It was obvious how she wanted to fit in, to make everyone accept and like her, especially you.

At first, you had been avoiding her most of the time, only talking to her when necessary, and Emily didn't know why until one day she asked JJ. The media liaison told her about Elle, the one Emily replaced in the team, and that she was your best friend.

But Emily wasn't hard to like at all. She was kind, thoughtful, funny, sarcastic, a bit nerdy, and really good at her job.

The two of you got along really well, really fast as the months passed by that you almost felt guilty because you were forgetting Elle.

Elle, who, after she left, had not called you once at all and probably changed her phone number because you can no longer reach her.

Elle, who had broken her promise to keep in touch with you.

Elle, who left you and won't probably be back at all even though she said she would try.

Maybe it wasn't such a bad idea to be friends with Emily at all. And it’s not like you can do anything about it, too. You were already captivated by her. You found yourself wanting to be close to her all the time, craving her attention and her subtle touches on your arm when she talks to you.

Emily Prentiss was easily clawing her way into your heart and you couldn't do anything about it. You weren't even sure if you wanted to do something about it.

It was snowing outside. You had three layers of clothes on the way to work. If you had to stay one more minute outside, you swore you’d freeze to death.

When you stepped out of the elevator, you shook off the snow from your coat and beanie hat. You immediately saw Emily walking back to her desk with two cups of coffee in her hands. She carefully put one cup on your desk and your heart fluttered and did a small somersault inside your ribcage.

“Morning,” you greeted Emily with a smile. You took off your coat and hung it on the back of your chair. “Thanks for the coffee, Prentiss.”

“Welcome. You need it. You look like you got out of a freezer.”

“Feels like it.” You took a sip of the hot coffee. Emily knew just how you liked your coffee and the redness on your cheek wasn't from the cold anymore.

Emily walked over to your desk and leaned against it. “Hey, JJ and Garcia said they’re planning a girls’ night tonight. Just some drinks at the bar, I think. Do you wanna come?”

Your gaze fell from the cup of coffee to Emily’s face. “Sure,” you replied, hiding the smile behind the cup.

“Great! I’ll tell JJ.”

You have never been with Emily outside of work before but you’ve been with JJ and Garcia a couple of times. You had no idea why it suddenly made you nervous and excited at the same time.

After work hours, the four of you went to a bar. You, JJ, and Penelope had frequently gone here but it’s Emily's first time. And after a couple of shots and a lot of work gossip shared, JJ was playing darts against a couple of guys for free drinks while Penelope was dancing with some guy, leaving you and Emily at your booth.

“So…” Your elbow hit the table, chin resting on your hand. “What does Emily Prentiss do for fun?”

Emily let out a chuckle. “Oh, I’m absolutely boring because I just read books.”

You huffed. “That’s not boring. Unless you’re reading what Spencer considers fun to read then yes, you’re boring.”

“Not textbooks at all.” Emily assured, grinning. “What about you?”

“Gardening.”

“Gardening?”

“Yeah, I’m an old lady stuck in a thirty-year-old body.”

Emily smiled at you. “What do you plant? Do you have a vegetable business or something? Or was it just decorative plants?”

“I have various plants at home. There were vegetables in the backyard and flowers at the front, some potted cactuses and snake plants inside.”

“Wow. I bet your house looks beautiful.”

“You should come visit sometime.” You blurted out without thinking. You blinked a few times to process what you had said.

But when you saw that Emily had a big smile on her face, eager that you had invited her to your home, the panic in your eyes immediately faded. “I’d love to.”

Oh, Penelope would smack you when she finds out you had invited Emily to your house before them. But you had no doubt that it would be worth it.

—

You and Emily fell into a routine without even realizing it. When Emily arrived earlier than you, she would have a hot freshly-brewed coffee on your tumbler waiting for you. And in the rare instances that you’re earlier, you bought her a cup of coffee from the café you two loved. Emily knew how you liked your coffee a little sweet, and you knew you like hers a little bitter.

During cases when you two were away from Quantico, you and Emily frequently bunked together. It was automatic and no one from the team complained about it.

Not like Emily would allow anyone else to be alone with you in a hotel room, anyway.

—

Emily wasn't a jealous person. Not at all. She was simply protective and caring and right now all she wanted to do was protect you from a certain male police officer who was getting a little too close and friendly with you. There was no doubt Emily could take him down with one move but she was trying her best to hold back, to not cause a scene.

When Emily saw that you were uncomfortable with the way the officer was talking and flirting with you, Emily quickly came to the rescue.

She placed her hand on your lower back and slid it down to your hip. “Hey, the briefing's about to start. Let’s go?”

You looked up to Emily and wordlessly nodded as she led you back to the conference room. Her hand was still on you and she was so close that you could smell her perfume and shampoo.

“Thank you.” You mumbled to Emily once you were both alone in the small conference room.

“You’re welcome.”

Emily didn't remove her hand on your hip until the rest of the team started walking in. You sat next to each other and even when the briefing started, Emily’s hand remained on you under the table - on your knee, on your thigh, on your hand. And it sent all kinds of electricity in your body and you wished she would never keep her hands off of you.

—

Emily and Spencer were held hostage by a cult leader named Benjamin Cyrus. The two of them were undercover to investigate an alleged child abuse by the underground cult.

You were told they were going to be safe, that it would just be a bunch of interviews with women and children. What the fuck went wrong?

You could hear Emily’s grunting and panting through your headphones.

“I can take it.”

You heard the punches and the slaps thrown at Emily, a mirror breaking into pieces, some things falling on the floor. You quickly removed your headphones and closed your eyes, a tear escaped and rolled down your cheek. You never prayed but at that moment, you prayed harder than a devout Catholic. Just for Emily to be safe.

Hotch squeezed your shoulder, reassuring you that you all will get them out including Emily and Spencer. You tried to hear it, to hear him, but your heart was louder than your head.

When 3am came, you didn’t know where you got the energy to still participate in the raid. You held your rifle carefully, following Morgan and Rossi inside the compound and waited at the back tunnel. Finally, the women and children were being guided out through the tunnel.

Your heart almost stopped when you saw Emily. She was battered and bruised but you had never been happier seeing her face again. You reached out to her, holding her hand as she stepped out. “Emily, are you okay?”

Emily nodded and guided everyone to safety. You tried to not be distracted, to be focused on saving the lives of the children and women. You followed Morgan to find Reid inside the church. Morgan quickly aimed for Cyrus’ men and you planted a bullet on Cyrus’ head.

You and Morgan ran to Reid’s side. Reid noticed that Jesse ran back inside the church, finding her husband dead. She grabbed the controller of explosives and the three of you ran as fast as you could.

Then there was a big explosion.

The next thing you know was being wrapped in Emily’s arms and your arm covered in glass cuts.

Emily cupped your cheek, worry and desperation on her face. “Are you okay?”

You nodded. “Are you?”

“I’m okay now that you’re here.” She said breathlessly, pressing her forehead against yours.

—

“Here you go,” Emily put a refilled cup of coffee on your desk as you finish your pending reports. “Your eyes will be strained at this point if you don’t stop looking at your screen once in a while.”

“I’m almost done.” You answered, continuing to type on your keyboard and your eyes were still laser focused on the computer screen.

To your surprise, Emily inserted her face between you and the screen. She was now face to face with you and your heart almost dropped.

“Wh-what are you doing?”

“Protecting your eyes.”

If only Emily knew the effect she had on you.

—

There was something about you today. Something was wrong. And Emily couldn’t quite pinpoint what it was. You were strangely quiet and only responded with yes and no’s. You didn’t even finish the cup of coffee she prepared for you. You also seemed distracted during the meeting.

You and Emily were the only ones left in the bullpen. She had already started packing her things and arranging the files that needed to be submitted tomorrow. Emily glanced at your direction, seeing you staring mindlessly at the photo in your hand. She walked over to you, placing her bag on your desk.

Emily crouched down so she could take a look at your face. “You’re not yourself today. Are you okay?” She asked worriedly.

You looked down at Emily, then to the photo and back to Emily again. “It’s Elle’s birthday.”

“Elle?”

“Elle Greenaway.”

That Elle, Emily thought. She heard of her. Just bits and pieces from Garcia, JJ, Reid, and Morgan. They all mentioned you being Elle’s best friend before she left.

“Did you wish her a happy birthday?”

“I wanted to… but we’re no longer in contact.” Your voice was weaker than you wanted it to be. “S-she moved away.”

Emily couldn’t stand the sad lines on your face. She reached out for your hand, gently squeezing it. “How about we get an ice cream? My treat. Celebrate Elle’s birthday.”

Your gaze met Emily’s and the pure sincerity on her face made you smile involuntarily.

And in the nice little ice cream shop, you told Emily all about Elle - how you met, how she became your best friend, her most memorable moments with you, what happened to her, and why she moved away. You even told Emily about how you felt about Elle.

You were normally guarded with your walls up high but with Emily, sharing was so easy. You never felt any judgment from her. She only listened to you, loving the way you spoke and how your hands spoke with you.

“So, uh… I have a question.” Emily said as you were both walking on your way to the bus stop.

“What is it?”

“You’re over her, right? Elle, I mean.”

“Over?”

“A-are you still waiting for her t-to come back?”

You went quiet for a minute and Emily was worried she crossed a line for asking the question so she pulled you to the side for a minute to apologize but you beat her in saying something first. “No,” you replied. “I’m not waiting for her anymore.”

You didn’t feel any guilt as you said that. Not anymore. You did your time. You waited for her. You had not waited for her in a long time.

Emily had a hopeful smile on her face. Her hands gently stroked your cheeks. Her hands were so soft that they almost felt like pillows on both sides of your face.

“Can I kiss you?” She asked, her voice trembling a little bit.

The smile on your face was contagious that Emily returned the smile in an instant. “I thought you’d never ask.”

Emily closed the gap between your lips and kissed you like you’d never been kissed before, soft and gentle as if you were so fragile, so delicate and she only had a once in a lifetime privilege to do so.

And after what felt like forever, both of you looked at each other with flushed cheeks and a desire igniting in both of your eyes. The taste of your lips lingered in her mouth and so did the taste of Emily’s lips on yours.

Emily stayed the night with you at your house. Beside you. Under you. On top of you.

And in the morning, Emily still stayed, tending to your garden.

Emily’s love was an ivy that covered your house and made it a home.

—

Elle wasn't exactly expecting a call one night after she went home from closing a long case. The number was unregistered to her phone yet she answered promptly. “Greenaway.”

“Elle,” You breathed a sigh of relief, that finally this was the right number. “It’s Y/N.”

Elle’s heartbeat quickened instantly upon hearing your voice on the other line. She hadn't heard your voice in ten years, which was all her fault.

“H-hey.” Her throat suddenly felt dry.

“It’s been so long.”

“I know.” Elle said quietly, her tone apologetic. “A-are you okay?”

“I’m okay. I’ve been trying to find you.”

“You have?”

“Yeah, I’ve got news.”

Elle suddenly sat up straight. You sounded serious. “What is it?”

“I’m getting married.”

The knots on Elle's stomach tightened. It felt like being stabbed actually. She had to check with her palm if her heart was still beating as it felt like it had dropped to her feet. “Y-you are?” She stammered, trying (and failing) to sound ecstatic for you.

“In three months, yeah.” The excitement in your voice was killing her. She shouldn't be feeling this way, feeling so… hurt and betrayed. After all, she was the one that broke a promise, the one that cut all contacts, the one that left, the one that didn't keep in touch with you for ten years.

“Three months? That’s… wow. Congratulations. Who’s the lucky person?”

“Emily Prentiss.” You said almost too quickly. She could still hear the excitement, the happiness in your voice. Whoever this Emily Prentiss was, she was one hell of a lucky woman already. And Elle envied her.

“Emily Prentiss,” she repeated. “A profiler as well?”

“Yes. Emily came into the BAU shortly after you quit.” You replied.

Oh.

Elle felt as if there was a sharp knife stuck in her chest. So Emily was her replacement… both in the BAU and in your life. The sharp knife was being twisted in her chest.

When you weren't met with a reply, you continued, “I want you to come to the wedding. If you can. Please?”

Elle was doomed really. She couldn't say no. Not when you were begging. Not when she hadn't seen you in years. Not when she missed you so much.

“I-I’ll go.”

“Really?” You let out a small squeak and Elle heard you yell to Emily that she was coming. You were so excited. She didn't know you would be ecstatic to see her still after all these years of no contact. “I’ll send you the invitation! In your email. Please message it to me.”

“I will.”

“Oh, and, Elle?”

“Yeah?”

“You’re still my best friend.”

The lump on her throat was almost unbearable now and the tears had fallen faster than she realized she was about to cry. “Y-you’re still mine too.” Elle’s voice was weak and cracked.

“I love you.” You said so casually yet she knew you meant it.

You still love her.

You just love her in a different way now. In a way that could never be like how you loved her before. In a way that could never be like how you loved Emily, your soon-to-be wife.

“I love you too.” Elle replied, pouring all the strength of her voice in those four little words.

“See you at the wedding.”

“See you.”

When the phone call ended, Elle knew she got you back but lost you forever.

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sickoherd · 1 year ago

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cuddles - emily prentiss x bau!reader

this fic includes: fluff, cuddling, only one bed trope (kind of?), vague descriptions of cm typical violence, no beta or proofread we die like emily’s fake death, penelope garcia being the best person to ever have graced the earth, no use of y/n, f!reader

a/n: guys i’m on season 7 now (^_-) also i don’t know how the fbi works SUE ME

“God, what a mess!” Emily exclaims, setting her bags down in the corner of the hotel room.

Unfortunately, due to the horrendously overcrowded convention going on nearby and your latest unsub’s comfort zone, you, JJ, Penelope, and Emily were forced to share a room.

“I can’t believe they could only give us two rooms. Couldn’t we have just stayed somewhere else?” JJ adds, removing her coat and hanging it in the room’s tiny closet.

“Unfortunately, my friends, our administration seems to love us enough to pay for our hotels, but not enough to move us into a company they don’t have a rapport with,” Penelope explains. She removes her hair accessories and piles them on the bathroom counter, her foot wedged in the bathroom door to stay in the conversation. “But it’s like a sleepover! Us girls get to share a room, and the boys have their own.”

“I haven’t had a sleepover since I was 12,” JJ says.

“Me neither,” you pipe up. “So who’s sleeping where tonight?”

Your eyes scan the room. Four girls, two beds, and eight eyes glancing at each other.

“I’m fine with sharing, but I do need to let you know I tend to steal blankets,” Penelope says, placing her accessories in a small box.

“Yeah, I’m fine with anything.” JJ says.

You and Emily briefly lock eyes. If you said sleeping in the same bed as Emily didn’t sound amazing, you’d be a liar. She’d been distracting you from your work and almost all your thoughts for the last few weeks; something about her demeanor, or her dark, sharp features, or that streak of playfulness she lets show on occasion. Whatever it is, it continues to drive you up a wall.

“Well, if none of you care, I want the bed closer to the AC unit because it is a stupidly warm night here.” Penelope steps over to the bed on the right side of the room, unpacking a fuzzy blanket and an extra pillow — how did she fit that in there? — from her bag.

“True that. If you two don’t mind, I’ll sleep closer to the AC too.” JJ says, looking between the two of you before moving.

“Yeah, go ahead.” You say, just a little bit too happy. You tell Emily to go ahead and get comfortable because you’re going to change. She nods as you shut yourself in the bathroom.

You use the bathroom to take a moment, take a breath. Part of you wonders what it will be like, sleeping in the same bed as Emily. The rest of you wonders how you’re going to keep your cool.

You change into your sleep clothes, a tank top and small shorts. The cool air of the room makes the hair on your body stand up.

You walk back out to a dark, silent room. The only light left on was the one to the left of Emily.

“Ready for bed?” she asks.

“Yeah,” you say, climbing into bed and wrapping the soft covers around you. Emily clicks the light off and slides down in the bed.

Before you can even start relaxing, images of the day flash back into your mind. The things the unsub did to his victims. The distraught loved ones of the deceased. The endless papers, leading you to repeated dead ends.

It only feels like a few minutes, but over the course of time, you grow colder and more restless. You toss and turn, trying to get more comfortable, but to no avail. Sighing, you turn to check the time, trying to find an estimate of how much sleep you would get.

The clock reads 4:24. You start contemplating just waking up extra early, but before you can reach a conclusion, you hear a whisper.

“Hey, you alright?” Emily whispers, turning to face you.

You pause for a moment. How honest should you be?

“Yeah, just… cold,” you say.

Emily takes a moment. You think she’s going to get up to grab a blanket, or lend you a hoodie, or anything else, but she scoots over to where you are and wraps her warm arms around your body. She gives you a firm squeeze. You know she knows you’re not just cold.

She starts to move away like it was just a hug. Before you can make a better decision, your hands stop her.

“Do you want me to stay?” Emily whispers.

You nod. Even though the darkness, Emily understands. She moves back to you, tucking your head into her shoulder. She wraps her arms around your middle and pulls the blanket fully over you.

She smells like lotion and coffee and clean clothes. It’s addictive. You nuzzle your head deeper into her, earning a small laugh and her hand making its way into your hair. She runs her nails over your scalp, brushing the hair off your neck.

“Are you okay?” she asks. You just hum, making her laugh again. “Goodnight. Sleep well for me.”

And with her arms around you, hand in your hair, you drift off into a comforting sleep.

bonus — the next morning, you wake up to giggling, which is quickly hushed. the entire day you and emily are the victims of glances and hushed whispers. on the jet home, you finally decide to ask penelope what was up with it. she doesn’t verbally respond, just shows you a picture of you sleeping like a baby, tucked into emily’s chest. at that moment she comes over, smiles, and walks back to her seat.

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sickoherd · 1 year ago

Note

heey!! i found your blog recently and I’ve been obsessed 🫠so im joining your celebration with “LYRA” …. “stay” is personally one of my favorite gracie songs so maybe something based on this lyrics “Could you hold me without any talking?We could try to go back where we started I don't even have to stay” perhaps could be hurt/comfort?

Aww hey and welcome!! Hope you enjoy your time here ;) btw I read this and literally went yes yes yes yesyesyes so ty!!!!

Join my celebration here

Word count: 1k (not a blurb….oops I got carried away)

A knock on the door forces you from your perch on the couch.

It’s late. You’re not expecting anyone, so you cautiously look through the peephole; dark hair floods your vision, contrasting against pale skin tinted yellow from the hallway lights.

It’s Emily.

Your heart lurches suddenly and you pull open the door, her late appearance making you forget that technically you two aren’t supposed to do this anymore. Not after Paris and secrets and an ocean of lies.

But still, you can’t stop yourself from letting her back in.

“Emily?”

“Hey.” She says, and her voice cracks. Her eyes meet yours and you find endless brown drowning in a pool of unshed tears, shining in the low light of your hallway. The sight of her here is so familiar, but not like this, not with her lips trembling and the sleeves of her sweater pulled over her hands. “I just—”

Her voice breaks again and she bites her lip, her eyes leaving yours to latch onto the floor. A small sound escapes the back of her throat, something like a pained whimper.

It sets off a trained reaction in you.

You’re across the threshold of your apartment before the tears spill down her cheeks, pulling her in and fitting her head under your chin just as they start to drip off her jaw.

There’s no buildup to it. No low sniffling or a rough clearing of her throat. Emily sobs into your chest; deep, hiccuping sobs that make her breathe in short gasps. The sound makes your heart wrench painfully, her pain just as easily igniting your own. In an instant everything is forgotten, everything except the fact that you love her and she loves you—despite everything.

“I’m here.” You kiss her messy ponytail, closing your eyes against your own tears.

She clings to you as you shuffle back into the apartment and close the door, one of your arms still wrapped tightly around her. Emily’s tears soak your shirt, her short nails digging painfully into your waist as you try to shush her.

“I’m here, baby,” you rasp through the lump in your throat. You try to tighten your grip around her, try to briefly put back the jagged pieces of who she once was. “I got you, Em.”

The only response you get back is a sniffle as she inches closer under your jaw, seeking to bury herself under your skin. Her grip is almost painfully tight as she keeps herself anchored to you through the turmoil in her mind. You want to ask, want to know what it is that’s going on so you can fix it, but some part of you knows this is irreparable damage reaped from the ghosts of her past.

So you just hold her through it. You hold her and keep an arm tight around the nape of her neck, your fingers slipping into her ponytail as you keep her so close the ragged movement of her chest rattles your own body. She’s shaking—trembling hands and wobbly knees and stuttering breaths—so you lift her up, ignoring the ache in your lower back as she clings to you tighter, her face buried in your neck as you carry her to the couch.

She curls into your lap. Time ticks by—how much is unbeknownst to either of you—and Emily’s sobs begin to slow. You keep an arm over her waist and one under her shoulders, soothingly rubbing her back as she starts to take in deeper breaths. They still stutter and catch in the back of her throat, but at least now you’re not worried she’s choking.

You’re doing nothing but wiping away the endless tears from her cheeks, occasionally pressing a kiss to the top of her head. By the time her breathing slows, her eyes are bloodshot and her cheeks are flushed with tear tracks.

Still, your heart twists in unimaginable ways. You give her a small smile and wipe away the last of the salt from her skin.

Emily leans into the touch, her head falling on your shoulder as her hand links with yours. The feeling of your intertwined fingers is still the same. Of course it is; all the change has been on the inside.

Emily’s nose under your jaw breaks you from your thoughts. She’s breathing softly now, her exhales escaping in warm puffs against your skin.

You unlink your fingers and rest your hand on her waist, squeezing lightly, “Stay here, I’ll go get a towel.”

She fists your shirt tightly. “Don’t—”

“I’m coming back,” you whisper. “Just a second, sweetheart.” The nickname slips effortlessly as you kiss her forehead, an action so familiar you could do it in your sleep.

Reluctantly, Emily slides off your lap. The weight of her warmth on top of you falls away, and you give her another small smile as you get up off the couch.

You pad to the bathroom and grab a small towel. As you’re wetting it under the sink, you hear Emily’s footsteps behind you. Turning off the tap, you turn, the wet towel held in your hand as you cup her jaw.

Beneath the fluorescent lights, her skin is blotchy. Though she doesn’t look at you, you know her eyes are bloodshot as you gently swipe the towel over her cheeks, wiping away the remnants of the tears.

Emily closes her eyes. Her fingers hook into the band of your sweatpants as she swallows, her damp lashes casting shadows on her cheeks.

None of you say it, but your actions are loud enough.

I love you.

“Stay with me tonight,” you whisper, because you know she won’t be brave enough to ask. Emily’s hands tighten on the waistband of your pants. You swipe the towel under her eyes, catching the remaining salt. “Please?”

Her bottom lip trembles, but no more tears escape past her closed lids.

“Okay.” Emily rasps.

Even when she falls asleep, she’s curled tightly around you.

taglist: @suckerforcate @sickoherd @lextism

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sickoherd · 1 year ago

Text

crash & burn

emily prentiss x surgical resident!fem!reader

what happens when your one night stand ends up on your operating table?

warnings: angst, surgery, blood, smut, mention of drugs/drug use, alcohol & drinking, mentions of (fake) major character death

a/n: repost from my previous blog about 3 years ago but also slightly edited. based off of my grey’s anatomy knowledge so there are definitely inaccuracies also one of my fav things I ever wrote

(gif is mine)

“incoming trauma! y/l/n, you’re on it with me,” your attending yelled. nodding at her as you made your way to the door, you grabbed a gown and threw it on. a rush of excitement coursed through you, with this being your first real trauma you were working. working the ER was always hit or miss, with everything that had swept through the emergency room doors during your previous rotations either ended up cleared from needing surgery or were “all hands on deck” situations, which usually ended up with every resident fighting for at least three surgeries. and you never seemed to be picked for one.

you had been itching to get into an OR for weeks, as being on the ICU rotation stopped that from happening. technically, you were doing simple procedures on patients when they needed to be done, but you weren’t able to actually operate. and that’s what you loved to do most.

silently wishing that this trauma would need surgery, you jogged out of the e.r. and met your attending at the ambulance bay. “what do we have?” you asked, watching as the paramedic opened the ambulance doors.

“agent emily prentiss, fbi, 40 years old; penetrating stab wound to the lower abdomen, weapon still lodged in place, already coded once in the ambulance,” the paramedic rattled off.

“is that a chair leg?” you asked, mouth open. something about this patient was off, you couldn’t figure it out.

“table leg, actually,” the paramedic said, shaking his head.

“that’s good, it’s the only thing keeping her alive right now,” the attending said, scanning the agent’s body. “what are her stats?”

you didn’t hear a word either of them said, eyes focused on the unconscious woman in front of you. she looked so familiar. and you also recognized her name. “emily,” you muttered, eyes widening when everything came back to you.

“can i buy you a drink?” a dark-haired woman asked, sitting down next to you with a smile. “sorry, i know that’s a bit forward,” she said softly. “i’m emily. and you’re absolutely gorgeous.”

“oh, thank you,” you blushed. “you’re pretty hot yourself. not to be too forward or anything,” you smirked. “i’m y/n.”

“it’s nice to meet you.”

her laugh was like a drug, you heard it once and were instantly drawn closer. if you weren’t careful, you’d get addicted. “thank you,” she beamed, brushing her hand over yours. “so, about that drink?”

“i’d love one,” you murmured. “thank you.” emily squeezed your hand, calling over the bartender and ordering two glasses of red wine. “how’d you know red was my favorite?” you asked curiously, taking a sip.

“lucky guess,” emily shrugged, changing the subject. “so, what do you do for work?”

“oh, i’m a surgical resident at the hospital downtown,” you smiled. “what about you?”

“i, uh, i work for the fbi,” she murmured, smiling sheepishly. “nothing too crazy, though.”

“that’s actually pretty cool,” you laughed. “what about the fbi brought you to boston?”

“i’m just here on business,” she spoke softly. “trying to find something for my team.”

“have you been here before?”

“once, a long time ago,” she sighed, looking down for barely a second. “but, that’s in the past. and i’m all about the present.”

you giggled, sipping your wine. the night carried on in a similar fashion, more and more drinks purchased as the conversation traveled. from favorite books to dream vacations to childhood fears, you two talked about nearly everything.

and as the night grew longer, emily ended up in your apartment. shirts ditched in the entryway, emily leaving sloppy kisses along your jawline as she carried you to the bedroom.

she placed you onto the bed, hands trailing down your sides. a soft moan escaped your lips, eliciting a laugh from hers. “you like that, don’t you?” she teased, hands moving up your thighs. one, two fingers inside of you, hitting that perfect spot with each thrust. her tongue swiping your entrance before her lips encased your clit, your vision nearly blacking out. pulling her hair, emily’s moans sent vibrations straight to your core and pleasure through your veins.

it wasn’t long before your hips bucked into her face, her tongue tasting every bit of you as you came.

and then you were on your knees for her, worshipping her body like it was the last time you would ever see it. which, it technically was. but that was the last thing on your mind as your tongue swiped her clit. she groaned softly, squeezing your breasts as if to tell you to keep going. and you did, until her cum was dripping down your face.

emily leaned down, grabbing you by the waist and pulling you into her arms. “thank you for this,” she whispered, smiling softly. “i really needed it.”

“of course,” you murmured. “and you can stay the night, since it’s so late.”

“thank you,” she sighed, rolling over. “goodnight, y/n.”

“goodnight, emily.”

emily said she would stay. and not even an hour later, she was running out of your house like she had just seen a ghost. she had said something about a work emergency, then proceeded to give you a quick kiss as a thank you for the night.

and as your apartment door closed, you assumed that was it. it was a one night stand, you would never see her again. and you were fine with that.

“something wrong, y/l/n?”

“oh, no, everything’s fine,” you muttered, shaking your head.

“alright then, let’s get her to the OR.”

***

“on my count, we’re going to pull out the wood,” dr. canning said, looking at you. “ready?”

“ready,” you responded, leaning over and grabbing the top of the leg.

“one, two, three.”

you and canning pulled it out as quickly as you could, leading you to hand it to a scrub nurse. “bag this and get it to the police upstairs,” you ordered, shifting your attention to emily.

“scalpel,” canning spoke, taking the blade handed to her and extending the cut that the wood had previously made in order to get better access.

there was so much blood pooling in her abdomen, it honestly scared you a bit. not because the extent of her injuries were so severe - after all, you had seen much worse. it was because you knew the person on the operating table, and even if it had been just one night, you hadn’t stopped thinking about her all day. but, it’s not like you knew her, so it didn’t matter. right now, she was your patient. and as far as you were concerned, that’s all she would continue to be.

“where is all this blood coming from?” canning yelled angrily. it seemed that no matter how much suction there was, more blood would keep pouring out. “hang another unit, she’s losing blood too quickly!”

“wait, i think i found the source,” you muttered, lightly pressing a finger to her pancreas, eyes widening as the blood stopped momentarily. “there’s a small cut on her pancreas!” you yelled.

“nice catch, y/l/n,” canning said, handing you sutures. “go ahead and finish up.”

you gasped softly, slightly taken aback by the order. nevertheless, you smiled under your mask and took the sutures. delicately, you were able to carefully fix her remaining injuries.

together, you and canning worked to make sure there was nothing you two were missing. closing her up quickly and carefully, you both headed into the scrub room to clean up.

when canning asked you to go tell her team about the surgery, you agreed rather eagerly. there was no reason for you to do that, it shouldn’t even matter whether you met them or not - there was no way you’d ever see them again.

“we’re under strict rules not to let anyone see her except for agents hotchner and jareau,” your attending explained to you, scrubbing her hands under the water. “understand?”

“yes ma’am,” you replied. “what should i tell them?”

“ask for agent jareau, and tell her that agent prentiss is stable and ready for transport to bethesda when they’re ready.”

nodding quickly, you exited the operating room and made your way to the waiting area. upon arriving, you stood out of view for a moment, taking in the people in the room.

a brightly dressed woman - who’s outfit did not match the tone of the room - leaning against a taller man. a skinny guy sat next to another blonde woman, who looked too uncomfortable - even for a hospital. an older man sat away from everyone else, fiddling with a rosary and murmuring what could only be a prayer under his breath. and then there were two, one taller man and one shorter woman, whispering to each other in the corner of the room.

this was her team, her family.

it felt odd that you were about to tell them how you saved her life, despite them not even knowing you two had hooked up barely 24 hours ago.

“excuse me, i’m looking for agent jareau?” you asked shyly, stepping into the room.

the woman standing stepped away from her teaming, giving them all a small smile. “why don’t we speak in private?” agent jareau suggested, nodding when you agreed.

you both stepped into the hallway, away from her team’s prying eyes. “agent jareau-”

“is she alive?” she asked, her voice breaking slightly.

“yes,” you murmured, the blonde woman sighing with relief. “agent prentiss is stable for now, and she’s ready for transport when your team is.”

“thank you,” agent jareau whispered, tears in her eyes. “thank you for saving her.”

“it’s no problem,” you smiled, watching as the woman walked off.

making your way back to emily’s room, you passed the waiting room, expecting to see smiles and joyous remarks. instead, you found the team in tears. the strangest part was what agent jareau told them.

“she never made it off the table.”

those words followed you all the way back to emily’s room, your mind spinning with what that could mean. it’s not even like it was your business, you two slept together once and nobody even knew. it didn’t matter, so you pushed it to the back of your mind.

you didn’t dare stay in her room for longer than you had to. as soon as you finished checking emily’s post-op vitals and making sure everything was in order, you left, shutting the door behind you.

instead of walking away - like you knew you should - you just stood in front of her room. not watching her, but just staring.

“you know, that agent has quite an interesting life” canning said softly, coming up next to you. “agent hotchner had asked me how long until she was cleared to leave the country.”

“did he say why?” you asked, looking between canning and emily.

“something about a paid vacation, but i don’t believe him,” she laughed. “apparently they’re profilers, but i didn’t need to be trained in behavioral analysis to know he was lying.”

“agent jareau told her team that she died,” you said quietly, staring at emily’s unconscious figure.

“damn,” canning sighed, looking ahead as well. “well, i know i wouldn’t want to be caught up in all of the trauma that’s bound to leave. i feel bad for her.”

“yeah,” you sighed. “me too.”

phones beeping after a few minutes, you and canning looked down, frowning. “there’s another trauma, y/l/n,” she said, looking at you. “let’s go.”

sighing, you took one last look at emily. she was still as beautiful as that night in your apartment, maybe even more.

turning around a moment later, you followed after canning

maybe it was a good thing emily had fled in a hurry after all.

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sickoherd · 1 year ago

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𝓰𝓸𝓻𝓰𝓮𝓸𝓾𝓼 (2), emily prentiss

pt1 (but this can be read alone if you’d like!!)

emily prentiss x fem!reader

three times you knew you loved eachother and the one time you told her

warnings: injuries, r bites her lips, crying, kissing and a tiny tiny bit suggestive, but overall fluff <3

·˚ ༘₊·꒰➳: ̗̀➛

The leaves crunch under Emily's boots as she walks through the park, a nice breeze brushing her face. Her eyes scan the grass extension, searching for you with an excited smile on her lips.

Just as she used to look forward to the nights in which she would share a muffin with you at the coffee shop, she now looks forward to your dates. She's sure that asking you out was probably one the best things she's ever done. She already knew you were going to be perfect (as always), but you seem to be breaking the scale even more everyday. She's also almost completely sure you feel the same way, you wouldn't be about to have your 5th date if it wasn't reciprocate.

Emily feels almost bewitched. She loves the way you text her every morning and night, the way you always write something cute on her cup of coffee before handing it to her (she has no idea how you haven't run out of things to write yet), the way you never make her feel guilty for having to cancel a date because of her job, and most of all she loves the way you can make her forget about everything that's bad when she's with you.

She finally spots you, sitting down on a picnic towel with a small basket beside you. You're dressed in a dark blue sweater that looks most definitely like it's inviting her for a hug, blue jeans and your sneakers are discarded besides the towel. She thinks you look more than gorgeous.

"Ems, hi!" You finally notice her when she approaches, sweet smile plastered on your face.

"Hey." She waves lightly before you're getting up, arms engulfing her in a bear hug like you had a read her thoughts just a moment ago.

The conversation quickly starts flowing between you as she insists that you tell her all about what happened since your last date. You comply easily, telling her full details about the movie you watched a week ago and something about a really rude client at the shop.

A familiar comfortable silence falls over you, hands intertwined and occasional glances towards eachother.

"Oh- i almost forgot. I bought you some muffins with that frosting you love!" Your face brightens and you reach for the tiny basket, pulling out the sweet cakes.

"You didn't have to- thank you." She couldn't help but find herself in a loss of words. You were way too sweet to her, ever since the day she met you.

Her hands reaches out for the muffin in your hands before binging it to her lips, a pleased hum leaving her mouth when she takes the first bite.

"It's really good." Emily confirms, not noticing the frosting smudged on the corner of her mouth.

With a silent chuckle, you pull yourself closer. "Here." Your thumb reaches for her lips, wiping the frosting there.

She swears you can probably hear her heart beating right now. It isn't news to her that you are usually very straight forward, but until now the most the has happened is a few kisses on the corner of her lips and hands lingering on her waist after a hug way more than they normally would - and she definitely doesn't complain.

The proximity makes her nervous, a good nervous. The butterflies fluttering in her stomach and the breath catching in her throat. Maybe the sweaty hands aren't as nice, but Emily thinks it's worth it.

She now realizes there is no way she can wait one more second to finally know if your lips are as soft as they look. Her finger catch your wrist as you start retiring it from her lips, kissing the pads of your finger as a silent thank you. Maroon spreads from your neck to your cheeks, shocked by the sudden boldness.

Taking advantage of your rare shyness, Emily reaches to take your face in her hands. Lips touching yours tentatively before you finally take hold of her waist, returning her kiss quickly.

It's gentle, sweet. She doesn't have either of those a lot in her life. You ground her, make her understand she also deserves it. And she doesn't intend to let go of you anytime soon.

It feels strange to feel so attached to someone after a few dates, or maybe the months of pining over you helped creating this feeling. She never believed in feeling something so strong for someone, feeling like you're sweeping her off her feet just by looking at her.

But she knows it's real now. She knows it because you're real. Because she loves you.

·˚ ༘₊·꒰➳: ̗̀➛

You bury your head deeper into the pillow, trying to escape the sunlight peeking through the window. Your frown momentarily disappears as you reach for her side of the bed but it soon returns when you feel it completely empty.

Emily enters the room not long after, dressed in only a white button up and underwear and you take a moment to admire her as she walks around the room getting ready. It feels good to know she's finally letting her guard down completely when with you, not afraid to flirt back and be comfortable. Her eyes land on you when you stretch your arms and a smile creeps over her face.

"Hey sleepyhead, sleep well?" She asks, fingers working on putting on the small gold earrings.

"Morning." You mumble groggily, rubbing your eyes and sitting up with your back against the headboard. "Why didn't you wake me? I'll walk out with you."

"You can just hang here, i'll probably be back by dinner time." Your heart warms at her request, the domesticity of it feels more than welcoming. But you can't help but feel like you might be intruding.

"Nonsense, i don't wanna take over your house while you're not here." You say, hands working on taming your bed hair.

"I want you to stay." She reassures, approaching your side of the bed. Taking the opportunity, you pull her to straddle you, giggling when she lets out a surprised gasp.

"Giving me a lot of girlfriend treatment lately, uh?" You tease, hands resting comfortably at her waist.

"Well- what if i wanted you to be...?" Her voice was nervous. Eyes anywhere but your face and fingers messing with your sleep shirt.

"Agent Prentiss, are you asking me to be your girlfriend?" One of your hands slide to hold her chin, directing her gaze to yours.

"Would you say yes if i were?" She asks tentatively.

"It would definitively be some way to wake up." Your smile brightens when she rolls her eyes jokingly.

"Baby." Her tone is stern but her smile breaks the facade rather quickly.

"I'd say yes, Em." You confirm, not that it was ever a doubt. You've been meaning to ask her that yourself but it seems she was quicker to do it

"Then i'm definitely asking." Her confidence returns, hands sliding up to your neck and gently holding your face.

"Asking me what?" You feign ignorance but your gaze slides between her eyes and lips.

"Be my girlfriend?" She finally asks, face way closer to yours than a moment ago, the tension building up by the second.

"Yes." You all but manage to breath out before her lips crash into yours. Her arms wrap around your shoulders to pull you closer, torso practically glued to yours.

Your fingers slide inside her button up, massaging the soft skin. You nip at her lip and before your hands can slide lower, she pulls away.

"I really gotta get ready." Emily whispers, nose rubbing against your cheek.

"You're no fun, Ems." You fake pout and she quickly kisses it away.

"M'sorry."

"Do i get extra girlfriend treatment tonight if i make you some breakfast?" You question as she lifts herself from your lap.

"For sure." The raven haired smirks, pinching your thigh gently before disappearing into the closet. You chuckle to yourself, hands smoothing down your sleep shirt when you stand up.

Your mind feels hazy, still coming down to the fact Emily is now officially your girlfriend. This is different than anything you've ever had with anyone. It feels different. You love her, you're sure of it.

"Hey, Em?" You call as you're about to head to the kitchen.

"Yes, baby?" She reappears from the closet, now completely dressed in a black suit, the white button up peaking from the inside of her blazer. That's enough to take your breath away.

You shake your head, "Nothing, you're just very pretty."

·˚ ༘₊·꒰➳: ̗̀➛

Emily takes a sip of the coffee in her hands, smiling briefly at the 'have a great day, pretty <3' note on it. Normally she would be grumpy just by looking at the gigantic mountain of files on her desk, but having been woken by you littering kisses all over her face was enough to make her morning happy.

Sighing, she returns to writing on the paper in front her. But her attention is cut short when the elevator dings, followed by you walking out of it.

Now that was definitely new, you haven't even met her friends, let alone visit her at work. She's not hiding you, that's a fact. You know her job is dangerous and you're also aware she's scared to get you involved with it. You don't mind waiting, not at all. She's made it clear you can meet them whenever you want, it just hasn't happened it.

You look around the bullpen, a small stack of files in your hands. You smile brightly when you see her, walking up to her while ignoring the heads that snap in your direction.

"Hey, Agent. Sorry for showing up without a warning, you left these at my place and i kept thinking they might be Important." Her heart flutters at your thoughtfulness.

"Thank you. You're an angel." She gets up from her chair, feeling the urge to at least great you properly. "And you can show up anytime." She adds, giving your arm a reassuring squeeze.

"This place seems nice. Feels homey- Well, as homey as it can be, you know." She knows what you mean, it's not necessarily the surroundings that make it a comfortable environment, it's the fact that people seem so comfortable with eachother. They're her family, in a way.

"Yeah, it does." She bites her lips trying to prevent the smile from escaping. She didn't imagine she'd be so happy with seeing you so comfortable with visiting her at the bau.

"Oh my god, is that her?" Penelope's not so low whispers pull you both out of your little bubble.

"Damn, Prentiss got some luck. That's my girl." Derek teases with a smile on his face.

Truth is all of her friends pretty much knew she was dating someone before she even questioned telling them. They claimed she looked happier, more smiley than usual - she'd probably turn into a stuttering mess if they ever told you that. Until one day Spencer pointed out the way her cup of coffee always had a sweet note in it, and the way she was arriving late at work more often. She eventually stopped denying it but was still quite secretive about you, it was endearing to see them try to find out more about her 'secret girlfriend'.

Stifling a chuckle, she looks over your shoulder to find both Garcia and Morgan shamelessly eying the both of you.

"Care to introduce us, Emily?" JJ appears with a smug smile, standing beside them.

Emily clears her throat nervously, "Yeah uh- meet my girlfriend, guys." Your hand touches her back in a comforting manner, smiling politely at them.

"It's so nice to meet you all, i've heard so much about you." You wave lightly and she notices your hopeful gaze. Meeting them all so suddenly was probably not on your mind today but you seemed just as excited as them.

"It's so nice to meet you! I'm Penelope and gosh- you're even more gorgeous than i imagined." The blonde woman hugs you sweetly and your smile immediately widens. Emily always knew you and Pen would get along easily, your bubbly personalities matching perfectly. But seeing it made her want to smile so hard that her cheeks hurt.

Hotch appears at the end of the staircase, "We need you all in the conference room in five." Before disappearing into his office again. But the slight smile he gives Emily doesn't go unnoticed by her. Relief washes over her at seeing the people she loves the most getting along.

They all grumble disappointedly from the introduction they all had been waiting for ages being cut so short. Bidding their goodbyes to you before leaving to the conference room.

"Well i won't distract you anymore." You turn back to her before adjusting her button up. "Is it too bad i want a goodbye kiss?"

"Nope." She smiles giddy before leaning in to place a quick peck on your lips.

"Okay now i'll actually leave. See you later, m'love." You walk to the elevator, smiling at her one last time before the doors close.

Emily finds herself looking at the closed elevator doors for a moment. She can't wait to get to tell you the three words begging to come out from the tip of her tongue.

·˚ ༘₊·꒰➳: ̗̀➛

You bite at your nails anxiously, tears threatening to spill from your eyes at any moment. The hospital corridors seem endless as you walk in a fast pace.

You had been sleeping peacefully when a call from Penelope abruptly woke you up. You knew it couldn't be anything good, feeling immediately awake as you answered the call. The words 'she's hurt' and 'hospital' being all you needed to hear before you were leaping out the door.

You look and feel like a mess. Hair unbrushed, sweatshirt and sweats crinkled and possibly mismatched sneakers - you don't care enough to check. Your breathing is uneven and your lips are probably swollen from biting on them so hard.

All you know is that Emily is somewhere in this building, laying on a hospital bed without you by her side. One broken rib, a blow in the head that luckily didn't cause a concussion and other smaller injuries like a split lip and a gash across her cheek. You hate that those are considered 'small' compared to the others.

You finally find Penelope standing by a coffee machine, practically running towards her.

"Where is she?" You don't mean to sound rude, but you feel desperate. You knew it would happen at some point, you knew she'd get injured. After all her job is dangerous. You just didn't think it would be before you even got to tell her.

"Hey, hey it's okay, sweetheart. She's okay, i called you cause i know she will feel better just by seeing that sweet face of yours." She tried to lighten the mood, only now you noticed the tears are freely streaming down your cheeks.

"Take me to her, please." She's going to be okay, so why do you feel like this? It's hard to say. You're aware of how you're exaggerating, it could be way worse - and maybe that's the reason.

Garcia looks at you worryingly but silently leads the way - you make note to thank her later.

As you're about to walk into the room, you make sure to take a deep breath and wipe the tears on your face. The last thing you want is for Emily to see you like this, she's already had enough of a bad day.

"Hi, baby." Her hoarse voice greets you the second you step in. The corners of her lips turn upwards into a tired smile.

"Hi." You breath out, relief washing over you at finally seeing her with your own eyes. She's okay. You're by her side in a flash, sitting on the chair right beside her bed. Hand grabbing hers and squeezing it tightly. "How?"

"Well i might have ended up exchanging a few punches with the unsubs- and i guess he was a bit stronger than i thought. But-" It was obvious she was trying to lighten the mood but it really only made you more distressed.

"You got in a fight with the unsub?" You practically yelp, eyes examining her bruised knuckles.

"I had to sweet girl. But i'm okay, yeah?" It feels wrong that she's the one comforting you when it should be otherwise. You bring her hand to your lips, kisses each of her knuckles multiple times.

"I know." You respond as convincingly as possible. "You're an idiot, Prentiss." It comes out way less humorous than you intend it to.

"Are you okay?" She asks with a frown, it really isn't usual for her to see you like this. You're usually bubbly and happy, taking any opportunity that's given to you to make one of your jokes. She worries you might have finally realized that it's not worth being with her if you're gonna have to be constantly worried if she even comes home in one piece. Little does she know.

"Yeah, it's just- i'm terrified, so terrified, of loosing you to this job. And i'm even more terrified to know i could've lost you today without even getting the chance to tell you that-" You stop yourself before you can utter the words you've been longing to say for months now. You always imagined that when you eventually said those words, you'd be somewhere at least a tad bit more romantic. And you definitively didn't imagine you'd be in the brick of tears.

"Tell me what?" Emily grips your hand and brings it to her chest, you can feel the gentle beating of her heart against it.

"That i love you, obviously." You say, now as calm as you can bring yourself to be. You want her to know you mean it. You do. This might not be the epitome of romance but it feels intimate - raw.

"Oh, angel. I love you." It's now her turn to feel relieved, her worries subsiding completely. Warmth spreads across her chest at the thought of you being so nervous to tell her. Of course she loves you. She loves you ever since she laid eyes on you at that coffee shop, ever since you brushed your finger against hers for the first time and mostly ever since she realized you were the only one able to make her smile even in her darkest days.

"Come here." She pats the space beside her in the bed and you're quick to join her. Careful not to touch any injurie, you bury yourself in her side. Head in her shoulder as you feel your eyes immediately grow heavier, the sense of comfort invading your senses.

"You better not scare me like this again, Agent." You finally tease and she can't help but chuckle.

"I'll always come back to you, gorgeous." She says barely above a whisper, lips pressing against your hair.

·˚ ༘₊·꒰➳: ̗̀➛

a/n: you asked, i delivered 💌

honestly had so much fun writing this 🙏🏼

love you,

cat 🤍

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sickoherd · 1 year ago

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sweet nothing | emily prentiss x reader

Tags: established relationship, fluff, use of scissors, hair cutting, use of pet names, no use of yn

Summary: It’s the weekend, and Emily’s bangs are overgrown. You offer to cut them.

Word count: 1.5k

You wake to Emily wrapped around you like a vine.

Her nose is buried in your neck, her even breaths steadily hitting your skin in warm puffs. One of her still-chilly hands has slipped under your shirt and is lying on your stomach, and her leg is hitched over your hip, the baggy tee she’s wearing rising and exposing the skin of her thigh so that it directly touches yours. The fuzzy material of her socks brushes against your bare legs. For lack of a better word, you’re trapped.

And you never want to move.

It’s the weekend and the room is warm with golden sunlight, the slant of it through the windows telling you it’s still much too early to be awake. You don’t mind, really, but the dozing brunette in your arms never gets out of bed strictly before she has to. And you hadn’t made any plans, so you let her sleep.

You try to wait her out, but some traces of exhaustion still linger, so you close your eyes again. You sink into a light doze until Emily begins to stir.

As always, this part takes forever.

You’re already back awake as she stretches slowly, unlatches her thigh from your hip and straightens her legs. Her hand leaves your stomach and she bends it until her elbow cracks, then wraps both her arms around your neck with a yawn.

“Hey, sweetheart,” you murmur, unable to stop yourself from being soft with her in times like these. “Finally ready to wake up?”

Emily’s responding hum vibrates through your skin. Even that is low and lazy as she sighs, rubs her eye with her knuckles.

“You’re comfy.” She says, her voice smoky and clouded with sleep. A small shiver runs down your spine at the rasp in the back of her throat, the way her tongue languidly wraps around those two words.

“And you’re lazy,” you run your hand over the curves of her waist. Your fingers find exposed skin above her hip and you poke it lightly, softening your words with the tender touch, “I’ve been awake for ages.”

It’s technically true.

Emily tilts your face toward hers. You smile when you meet sleepy, dark eyes, her lashes long and sweeping, her lips a little swollen from being tucked into your neck almost all night. Hi, you want to say, because sometimes she makes you want to say unnecessary shit like that, but she cradles your face before you can, bringing you closer.

“Sue me.” Emily murmurs, and leans in to kiss you.

Time slows. It must, because she slips her hand in your hair and you slip it under her shirt and though the two of you spend decades in this moment, saying hello in the early morning light, only ten minutes pass by the time Emily’s eyes have lost their drowsiness.

Emily doesn’t say it, but you can tell she’s missed this. She clings to you, wraps arms and legs around your body and presses her cheek to yours, then kisses, then trails her hands and lips under your jaw. You sigh and soak up her attention, savoring the feel of her for when she’s later gone.

It’s hard when her job takes her away for too long. In brief stretches like these, days that she tries to twist and warp into weeks are when she recharges. Spending time with you, idly doing nothing, content with sitting around all day in your pajamas is how life is breathed into her again, after the BAU takes her and gives her back a hollowed shell.

Which is why both of you are always extra clingy when she’s home. Skin always pressed together, bodies always intertwined, no more than a few feet between you at any given time.

Her head is on your pillow now, the tips of your noses touching as you lightly trace the swollen outline of her lips. She has far, far encroached into your space, and what wouldn’t you give for her to do that every day.

Gently, you smooth her overgrown bangs behind her ear. They almost reach her lobes now, not much shorter than the rest of her hair, and you like the way the difference in length chips away at her polished, perfect exterior.

She doesn’t, though.

“I need to cut them,” Emily murmurs, a small furrow to her brows because she’d been saying she will for the past three months.

“Then you’ll go through the whole process again.” You point out needlessly, reaching out to play with a strand that hangs over her right eye.

Emily hums. “I’m liking the bangs right now. I think I want them for a little while longer.”

You grab the bangs between your fingers, tuck the spiky ends out, and bring them up to brush her lip. Emily flinches away and you laugh, soft and low. “I’m liking them too.” Tucking those behind her ear, too, you cup her jaw and bring her down so her lips can meet yours in a soft kiss; an apology.

“Hm,” Emily grumbles against your lips. The strands behind her left ear loosen and fall across your face. You screw your eyes shut as Emily tucks them back behind her ear; she kisses your closed lids, signaling for you to open them again.

Your gaze is blissfully hair-free when you open your eyes again. “Y’know, I can cut ’em for you.” You offer.

Her gaze turns suspicious. “Can you?”

“I can.” Indignation drips from your tone as you cross your arms, feigning offense at her insinuation; you’ve had plenty of practice with your mom.

Emily’s eyes light up as she smiles. She bites her lip to try to hold it, but then it turns into a laugh, one that’s soft and so full of love you briefly flush with warmth all over.

“Okay, dolcezza.” She kisses your forehead. “I trust you.”

Her bangs fall across your face again.

You sigh and tap her hip. “Bathroom. Right now.”

Emily laughs as she gets off of you.

——

Even with her hair clipped back and her bangs hanging in wet threads across her face, she looks beautiful.

“Can’t you do it on my lap?” Emily teases, half joking, but her hands are intent as they wrap around the backs of your knees.

An amused huff leaves your lips. “Not unless you want to look like you got styled by Edward Scissorhands. Now,” you take her hands off your legs and grab the scissors, “keep those hands to yourself, Prentiss. You can’t keep distracting me.”

“You’re easily distracted.” She complains softly.

You bend down to be more level with her head, her seat on the closed toilet lid shortening her a considerable amount. “Sorry, my girlfriend has a magic touch.” You quip, taking the comb from her lap and quickly running it through the bangs over her eyes.

Emily begins to say something and you shush her as you gather the hair in your hands. “Quiet, love,” you murmur, brows scrunched in concentration as you snip off the edges of her bangs. Emily sucks in a breath and goes quiet, but the abrupt movement tilts her head.

A small smile tugs at your lips. “Stay still,” you chide lovingly. She obeys, not moving as you slowly trim off length, shortening the bangs from mid-cheek to slightly above her brows. Your back hurts from the angle but you ignore it, steadily cutting until you feel the weight of coffee-brown eyes stare right into your soul.

“Why hello there,” you grin, winking at Emily as her face finally comes into view, “whose pretty eyes are these?” Twisting the bangs into a rope, you cut away from her face.

Her cheeks tint red. “So you can talk and I can’t?” She grumbles, her mouth barely moving. Heat sears your skin as her eyes travel up, up, roving over your face with unashamed abandon.

Humming, you carefully slide the scissors between Emily’s hair and her forehead. “You get a kiss for each minute you stay still.” A few strands still hang over her eyes, so you lift them and trim a bit.

Those eyes of hers flutter shut, and the heat of her gaze disappears. A small smile plays at her lips, and a smile of your own appears when you see her dimples. A few more snips and you’re satisfied, placing the scissors on the sink and gently tilting Emily’s chin up, kissing her with her eyes still closed.

She responds with a sigh, one of her hands finding its way to the back of your knee again. “Think that was ten minutes, wasn’t it?” She mumbles against your lips.

The angle is hurting your back, so you crouch down in front of her. “Five, at the most,” you roll your eyes, brushing the damp bangs off her forehead to properly see her eyes. They shine, beautifully dark, and your heart stumbles. “But I don’t need an excuse to give you ten kisses, do I?”

“No,” Emily sighs, fisting her hand in your hair and bringing you up to her. For all her hurry, when she kisses you it’s sweet, reverent, and you smile against her lips.

When she leans back, you press a finger to her dimple.

9 more to go.

taglist: @suckerforcate

Reblogs and comments are highly appreciated! Support your authors and lmk what you think <3

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sickoherd · 1 year ago

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hi sorry for like disappearing but ive been binging criminal minds !

I also made a character.ai account and ive been making a few bots <3

My user on character ai is also sickoherd! So far ive made a few bots for Emily Prentiss, Spencer Reid, Aaron Hotchner and Jennifer Jareau but im gonna make more soon!

thanks ily all <33

#sy talks 🌥#character.ai #criminal minds #emily prentiss #jennifer jareau #aaron hotchner #spencer reid #character.ai bots #criminal minds c.ai #c.ai #c.ai bot #c.ai criminal minds

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sickoherd · 1 year ago

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loved your other fanfics for Emily! Could I request a Emily x fem!Reader fic with fluff and maybe some angst? Maybe one of the two gets hurt and the other is scared for them? <3

Thanks! And tysm for requesting! I hope this is similar to what you had in mind <3

———— Wounded hearts | emily prentiss x reader

Tags: established relationship, hurt/comfort, typical cm violence, mentions of blood, use of petnames, no use of yn, bau!reader

Word count: 1.6k

Your heart flutters like a raven’s wing. Even now, with Emily right in front of you, sitting on the ledge of an ambulance and grumbling at the EMT—more than enough sign that she’s actually okay—you feel the residual fear lingering in your bones, sticking to your skin.

The unsub was operating out of an abandoned warehouse. It was huge, covering several blocks, and you were running out of time; he had a pattern of killing once every three weeks before going dark for a whole year, and then striking again.

Hotch had the team split up to search the property, and when all of you had reported back except for Emily, your heart dropped to your stomach. You ran to the section she’d occupied, your footsteps thundering on the floor as you yelled her name, the sound echoing in the endless space.

When you finally found her, Morgan was there, handcuffing the unsub on his knees as Emily stood in front of them, breathing heavily. She was holding up her arm, blood dripping down her elbow and to the floor, her chest heaving as she tucked sweaty bangs behind her ear with her other hand.

“Emily.” Your voice broke. When she turned, her eyes dazed from the blood loss, you saw the bruises and split lip. Your stomach had churned with nausea as you caught the unsub’s bloody knife, darkened with your girlfriend’s blood.

Emily could hold her own, you knew that. And as beaten as she was, she still managed to take control over the unsub, keeping him subdued just until Morgan came to cuff him. But the logical part of your brain hadn’t reminded you of that as you heard her labored breathing, saw the dark drip of her blood fall to the cement floor. You only saw the slight way she swayed, the small huff of relief she let out as your eyes met hers. Only felt the twist in your stomach at the stark bruises marring her face.

As you pull yourself out of the reel of memories, your gaze sharpens on her again.

She sits on the very edge of the ambulance, ready to stand the second the medic gives her the all clear. Her pale skin is darkened with bruises, the ivory of her cheek lost in a layering of blue and deep purple. Red crawls up her jaw, the imprint of the unsub’s knuckles still lingering on her skin and growing more obvious as she grinds her teeth at the EMT’s prodding. He bends over the long gash on her arm; it runs from the bottom of her thumb to just shy of her elbow.

The blood is wiped away now, only forming in beads along the gash, but the sheer length of it makes your stomach churn. Emily must feel your searing gaze on her, because she ignores the medic and looks up, forcing her grimace away as her eyes meet yours.

You haven’t said anything since you’d found her, but the fear still clings to you, making itself known in the way you bite your lip and fiddle with the material of your shirt.

“Babe, I’m fine.” Emily says, her voice raspy as she tries for a smile. It tugs more at the gash on her lip and you frown as blood blooms red again. “Can you stop worrying? Please?”

She might as well have asked you to stop the sun from rising.

“Can I stop worrying?” You give a small scoff, mostly to clear your voice from the tears gathering at the back of your throat. “Your face is ten shades of purple, Emily.” You hate the way your voice shakes. “Your arm was practically ripped open—”

“Honey, it doesn’t even need stitches,” she coaxes.

“Um, actually it does.” The EMT interrupts softly. He’s young, clearly still fresh, his hair flopping over his forehead and his frame lanky with youth.

Emily gives him a dirty look. “Can we have a minute?” She bites out through her teeth, her eyes murderous as she rips her arm out of his hold.

The EMT shies away. Ducking his chin into his chest, he mumbles, “Sure,” and scurries to the front of the ambulance, leaving you and Emily alone.

“He’s just trying to help.”

The way your voice shakes doesn’t go unnoticed by her.

Emily’s eyes go soft—the way they always do for you. She taps the space next to her. “Sit with me.” She murmurs.

You do. The ledge of the ambulance is hard and your shoulder bumps gently against hers, but you look straight ahead. Her eyes are hot on your face; you focus on the dark silhouette of the warehouse, still too unsettled by the bruises on her skin.

Deep down, you know it’s ridiculous. It’s not the first time you’ve seen her like this and you both know damn well it won’t be the last. Maybe, if you try to justify it, you could chalk it up to the fact that this is the first time she’s gotten hurt as your girlfriend.

Not SSA Prentiss. Em. Up till now the only bruises you’ve seen on her alabaster skin were ones you’d put there yourself, marks of love from your teeth and hands and lips, tattooing your reverence on her body if only for a little while.

Tears sting behind your eyes as Emily reaches for your hand. Your fingers are loosely held in a fist, but her hand curls around yours. Slowly, she coaxes it straight and laces her fingers through your own, then turning them so your joint hands settle on your thigh, palm side up.

“I’m okay, dolcezza.”

If not for the rasp to her honeyed voice, you might’ve believed her.

You turn to face her. She’s so close, the fluorescent lighting of the ambulance harshly illuminating the bruises. “Don’t lie to me, Em.” Begging has always been beneath you, but when it comes to her, all your principles are thrown out the window. Desperation sticks to your words, the vice around your heart making you sound breathless. “Never lie.” You plead.

“Okay,” she breathes, her eyes widening. She tightly squeezes your hand, “Okay, I won’t. It hurts. But I’ve had worse,” she quickly says as your vision begins to blur.

How very Emily of her, to be so quick to reassure, quick to soothe someone’s worries before her own. It makes her all the more maddening, all the more remarkable and endearing and unfortunately, exactly the kind of woman you fell in love with.

“Sweetheart,” you murmur, shaking your head as you carefully cup her cheek. The hitch in her breath is audible, but somehow you know it’s because of your tears and not your touch. “You don’t have to hide your pain from me.”

“Can you blame me?” Emily whispers, her shoulders rising in a helpless shrug. “If it makes you cry, of course I will.” She says softly. It makes it worse that her voice is sincere. Her eyes, still clouded with pain, are earnest, and you don’t know if you want to laugh or cry.

“How heroic of you.” You croak, sniffling as a few warm tears finally slip down your cheeks. Her mouth parts, her eyes widening, and you know some protest is underway so you close the small distance and kiss her as gently as you dare.

She tastes like blood. Her mussed, sweaty bangs tickle your skin as she leans in close, places her hand on the curve of your waist and squeezes over your shirt. You’re careful, shying away from the cut even as she chases you, wordlessly imploring you to kiss her like you always do, with near reckless abandon. Ignoring her signals, you place a final soft kiss on her mouth before you pull away.

“Please don’t, Emily.” You whisper. She raises her hand and thumbs your wet cheek, a small frown on her face as her finger slips on your tears. “This isn’t about me, it’s about you.” You cover her hand with your own. Her eyes meet yours, dark and lovely and shining with the selfless love she’s full to the brim with. “I don’t want you to hide anything from me. Not your pain or anything else.”

Another warm tear falls on your joint hands.

Emily wipes it away. Taking in a shuddering breath, she blows it out slowly and leans forward to press her forehead against yours. “I love you, you know.” She says quietly. Her voice is hoarse, her eyes a little more wet than they were before.

A small smile pulls at your lips. “I know, sweetheart. I love you back.” Taking your hand off hers, you tuck her bangs back behind her ears. The bruises are clearer now that they’re out of the way, but you shift your gaze back to her eyes. “Now, will you be a good girl and let the EMT do his job?” Your voice is the slightest bit teasing as you try to lift the mood.

A flimsy smile flits over her face. Emily grabs her lip between her teeth and you mentally grimace as it pulls on her cut. “It hurts.” She admits.

The soft admission both warms you up and makes your heart clench. Gently, you pull her lip from the cage of her teeth. “I know that too. I’m coddling you when we get home, whether you like it or not.”

Emily snorts lightly, her breath skipping across your skin. Her eyes light up despite the pain, and both your smiles are a little more genuine. “If you insist.”

“But you have to get stitched up first.”

“Fuck.”

taglist: @suckerforcate

Reblogs and comments mean the world; I’d love to hear your feedback! Prompts are very very welcome <3

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sickoherd · 1 year ago

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omg ❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹

⋯ ⋯ ﹒ 🪻 ’

MATTHEO RIDDLE— not horribly tall, but slightly above average. strong arms; what he doesn't have of height like the weasley twins, he has of muscles on his arms, even though not a ken-like amount, which he finds ugly. dark curls— inherited by his mother, the insanely crazy bellatrix lestrange, and beautiful eyes that he has no clue where he got from. long lashes, defined jawline.

in short, a handsome, easily found attractive, young man. and with that bad boy attitude? well, mattheo riddle is every girl's guilty pleasure of a daydream.

some, because they'd like to have their attitude and confidence fucked out of them, by mattheo riddle who certainly takes no bullshit. others, because they delusionally believe that they can somehow fix him— turning a doberman into a golden retriever.

mattheo riddle who's the only first year to not tremble under snape's gaze, because his father is voldemort. the thing, the person he fears the most.

mattheo riddle who doesn't even blink when teachers, older students and even intimidating people yell at him— this is child's play, compared to the cold, frightening aura of his father, and the eery sound of his mother talking to him; one second, she's calm, putting on a (scary) loving persona— then, she's raging, yelling and slamming things, hands on the table, almost throwing hands at her son.

mattheo riddle who stands on the end of the line, letting students get in front of him and even threatening some to take his place on the line, so he stands further behind. this only happens once, during that one professor lupin's class, with the boggart— because mattheo knows that it'd take the shape of his father, walking eerily towards him. not only does he hate the thought of having his classmates gossiping about him, about his family and making even more assumptions about him; but also knows that he'd stand there, paralyzed. incapable of even raising his wand, much less utter such an easy spell like riddikulus. for mattheo, what's ridiculous is his situation; how he'd love and thank the heavens, if he could have such a silly fear like insects, ghosts, or even clowns.

mattheo riddle who grows extremely confident because nothing scares him at hogwarts; after all, his father isn't there— the only thing that makes mattheo riddle tremble is his presence. anything else isn't half as frightening as coming back home to his mother, bellatrix lestrange, and father, voldemort he-who-must-not-be-named.

mattheo riddle who becomes scary and intimidating, so that no one can scare or intimidate him instead. he spent most of his third year at hogwarts practicing on the mirror— a way to turn his beautiful eyes into a dead stare, making sure that the shining glint of his eyes disappears, to become so scary, that no one would dare to mess with him like tom riddle does. or even draco malfoy, who tried to do this back on their first year, bullying mattheo into becoming his friend and follower—, but all of this was before they became genuine friends, along with theodore, lorenzo and blaise.

mattheo riddle who's known by the unhinged brother, less smart riddle— while others, who are aware of tom riddle's tendencies, call him the older psychopath brother, brilliant riddle. such a charming pair of siblings, aren't they?

mattheo riddle who smokes a whole package of cigarettes with theodore nott, when they're on the train back home. for holidays and for summer vacation, in silence, because they're too anxious and nervous to come back home, to leave their (although they're too proud to admit) safe place — hogwarts.

mattheo riddle who respects his older brother, tom riddle, because he thinks that in many ways, tom is like their father sometimes. and that scares him.

mattheo riddle who only learned how to swim and to stop fearing lakes, when his slytherin friends teached him.

( this happened on lorenzo's house, since he invited his friends to spend some days there, during summer vacation. after all, his parents are the less... frightening, in a way, and blaise zabini gatekeeps his mother from his friends, for obvious reasons. besides, lorenzo has the largest pool! upon realizing that mattheo stayed behind while they played in the swimming pool, the boys, for once, didn't turn the situation into a joke. draco stood behind, throwing opinions and dictating that they were doing it wrong— while theodore and blaise stood each by mattheo's side, making sure that he wouldn't get scared if he felt like he was drowning, while lorenzo is in front of him, advising on what to do. it was a mess. a mess that became a core memory of true friendship. )

even so, mattheo hates to go to a point of the lake where he's no longer tall enough to touch the sandy surface— because suddenly he's seven years old again, with tom riddle standing on the edge of the lake, smiling darkly at the sight of his baby brother drowning in the cold water.

⋯ ⋯ ﹒ 🪻 ’

mattheo riddle who, after all of these years, still stares at his older brother with a mixture of resentment and sorrow— secretly, mattheo still wishes to be close with tom. to have a normal brotherly friendship with him, even if they're everything but a normal family. so, mattheo riddle, who envies pairs of siblings whenever he sees them around hogwarts halls, hugging, lightheartedly bullying each other. wishing he could trauma dump shared experiences of his parents with tom, who would've demolished inch after inch of mattheo's pride and feelings, calling him weak.

mattheo riddle who doesn't join draco when he bullies the weasleys. he never defends them either; he doesn't need to, because the redhead siblings stick around for each other. mattheo doesn't know if his heart feels like crying, or ripping apart with a vicious, angry jealousy that he doesn't have that. a sibling that cares enough to take care of him.

mattheo riddle who drinks and drinks and drinks until he passes out, or until he almost throws up his stomach away— rarely accepting any kind of help whatsoever, because he doesn't feel like he deserves it.

because pain and finding out a way to solve things by himself, is what he grew up used to. because his mother is a bipolar, sadistic woman; because his father is too feared by mattheo for him to even dare to consider asking for his help; because his older brother, tom riddle, isn't a pillar he can lean on to— rather, a pillar that would glady fall on top of him, crushing him under debris. he's another person to be feared, and who'd leave mattheo even worse than he already is.

mattheo riddle, who hesitantly accepts lorenzo and theodore's help. because lorenzo is too much of a mother of the group (whenever blaise isn't around, but mattheo doesn't think he'd ever allow the zabini boy to help him either. of course, this happens whenever lorenzo isn't planning his way to another girl's bed either) and by far, the most caring of the boys. or at least, the one who easily shows his worry without a hundred walls surrounding his heart.

and theodore nott, well— mattheo thinks that the term best friend is too corny, so he settles to admit that theo is the person who understands him the most. if he doesn't have tom, he has theo, to sympathize with his shitty situation, because theo's family and hardships are too similar, even though they don't share a last name.

they have matching wounds, inflicted by different people, but similar situations.

and because theodore is awfully moody, sarcastic and would punch mattheo into reason, well— mattheo unwillingly accepts theodore's (forceful) help.

· · ·

mattheo riddle who only ever has deep thoughts when he's throwing up from the alcohol, or becomes self-conscious of himself. of the evilness he provokes, of the unchanging way his fate was decided, as soon as he was conceived in his mother's womb. how he, no matter how he'd like to change, believes that he's a lost cause.

something that's not worth the effort, since mattheo riddle, younger brother of tom riddle, son of bellatrix lestrange and the dark lord himself, must have been born with a vicious evil heart. how could he not, with a family like this?

it must be on his dna. or so he believes.

when he's drunk, puke being wiped out from his lips and alone in the bathroom— this is the only time when mattheo riddle allows himself to pity himself. other than that, he'd scoff at the thought of doing so; because that's a weak thing to do.

and to survive his family, mattheo wouldn't dare to be weak a single day of his life. he might get killed if he allows a moment of weakness around his family. whatever family means, anyways.

⋯ ⋯ ﹒ 🪻 ’

mattheo riddle who's always the first one to start a fight— and never the one to end it. either his friends push him away, or he's held down by some spell casted by one of hogwarts' teachers.

however, he will start a fight with a group of five gryffindors, if they make a nasty comment about mattheo's friends. if they dare to assume, to gossip, to say one mean word about the friends that tolerate mattheo's behavior even on his shittiest days. the first thing he does is grab the last one talking by the collar, so that his fist naturally punches the guy's face. yes, mattheo can keep up a fight with five guys— even though he knows that, as much of a good and violent fighter as he is, there's no way that he won't leave with a few bruises (and bloody knuckles from rashly punching back and forth).

nevertheless, mattheo riddle won't ever allow theodore or his friends to join him, if he's about to have a 1v1. not even to intimidate or make a single threat— mattheo thinks that it's pathetic and coward to do so, which is why sometimes, mattheo doesn't help draco when he puts up a stunt against a single student (or a group that is outnumbered by malfoy's little friends). when draco comes back, mattheo won't scold him— but he won't shut up either, at least making sure that by some miracle, draco understands how coward it is to do that, from the sarcastic comment that mattheo throws with no hesitation.

⋯ ⋯ ﹒ 🪻 ’

mattheo riddle who actually has one of the most beautiful smiles. once his usual dead stare is gone, showing how those dark eyes of his can look so sweet and bright— squinting into half moons, when he truly laughs or smiles genuinely. his smile is one that makes you think that maybe, just maybe, there isn't any evil or meanness to this slytherin boy.

mattheo riddle who is so touch starved, that only a warm gaze from you, is enough to melt him and (at least mentally) get him on his knees. those dark eyes soften and follow every movement of yours— looking like a lost puppy, when you eventually shift your attention to something else, your gaze leaving him. he won't grab you, he won't yell for your attention out of pride— but if you were to look into his eyes, you'd see how mattheo silently hopes to some deity that you'll have your attention on him once again.

mattheo riddle who doesn't know how to be gentle, because he never knew gentle touches, caresses and soft approaches. this man is almost stupid because of this sometimes— mattheo isn't even aware of his own strength, so when he does hurt you unintentionally (by grabbing holding your wrist) and gets scolded about it... he'll genuinely look at you, confused. sure, he'll apologize— fine, sorry!

. . . however, mattheo isn't sure what he did wrong. was it really that hurtful? to him, he was simply holding you, not grabbing...

( because mattheo riddle was never held, only yanked or dragged along. )

mattheo riddle who would love to have people playing with his hair. twirl his curls around your fingers, tug at it (but gently, please! he easily complains at the slightest hint of discomfort!), massage his scalp, caress his dark hair— mattheo melts and for a moment, wonders if sleep does arrive to him this fast at night, like it does now that you're touching him there.

so yes, during classes, mattheo sneakily stands on the door frame— carefully watching where you decide to take your seat, before he marches up to you so he can take the other chair of said desk.

mattheo marches confidently, hands on his pockets and body a little bend to the front; focused on his target: you.

all of his concentration is locked on his goal: your attention for the whole class. and if he's too late, because some annoying girl or asshole with pants got there before him? one glare from mattheo, and they're gone.

mattheo doesn't even bother to take his books; he greets, crosses his arms on top of the table, settles his head there— and if you're too slow to understand what's this whole preparation for, well, mattheo has no problem to make his intentions clear, by (much gentler, this time) grabbing your hand and settling it on his head. among his dark curls.

and if you notice that they look softer and taken care of— well, mattheo won't be catch dead and much less alive saying it. but blaise noticed how mattheo bought a new shampoo, conditioner and a weird bottle that seems to help curly hair like mattheo's.

AND HOW DID AN ALL-IN-ONE SHAMPOO USER LIKE MATTTHEO, KNEW WHAT PRODUCTS TO USE IN WHICH ORDER, FROM DAY TO NIGHT? oh, that was easy; mattheo spent an evening leaning against the entrance of the slytherin common room, watching intently every student that entered or left during that hour of the day. his eyes glared up and down— searching for a slytherin, be it a witch or a wizard, older or younger than him, that has a type of hair similar (if not identical) to his.

finally, a slytherin girl was on her way to hang out with her friends. that is, until mattheo nonchalantly grabs her by the collar of her shirt, right when she innocently passes by him, then drags the girl along with him to a secluded corner of the slytherin common room.

( out of love for life and respect for their well-being, it's safe to say that her friends didn't come to save her. though, props to them, because they kept watching... just in case. of, you know, having to search for help. )

the slytherin girl trembles on her spot, rethinking her life choices; wondering if she had done anything to offend mattheo riddle, the dark lord's son— not the psychopath, the unhinged one. when he bends down, so that he's face to face with her, eyes squinting with his jaw clenched...

she closes her eyes. wondering if she'd be punched or have her hair grabbed to be slammed against the wall. however, after awkward ten seconds pass and her body is still intact, she opens one eye, to see mattheo making a grimace.

a grimace that would be funny if he wasn't so scary. a grimace that seemed to ask, 'what the fuck are you doing?'. which would have been verbalized, mind you, if mattheo didn't have a list of priorities at the moment. he opens his mouth, and this slytherin girl feared to have hallucinated such an innocent, random question.

'which products do you use for your hair?'

( ten minutes later, after having explained her hair routine in detail to mattheo riddle himself, who took notes and hummed for her to keep going, the slytherin girl goes back to her friend group. pale. she doesn't give details— no one would believe her. and she doesn't think that mattheo riddle would like having people know that he's about to spend 100 galleons on hair products to please you. )

౨ৎ please understand that i'm trying my hardest, ♡ ͡

my head's a mess, but i'm trying regardless . . .

🪻 ; . . . fandom : harry potter.

— i noticed that i have a few mattheo girlies enjoying my writing, so! please consider this a little bittersweet drabble for you. once again, tysm for the feedback! ♥︎

the headers + gifs + icons aren't mine. credits to the respective creators ! 🌷

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