#emily prentiss fanfiction
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The getaway pt.2 - Emily Prentiss x fem!reader
ALL OF THESE CAN BE READ AS STAND-ALONES
summary: it's your first morning on vacation and you decide to go for a swim!
tw: where do I start. Smut. Toxic masculinity. Oral sex. Fingering. Emily going from possessive to completely in love w you in like two seconds. Shower sex. Idk lmk if I miss something!
a/n: I've gotten a lot of positive feedback on the first chapter which i LOVE, thank y'all who comment, it really helps!
You stare at your reflection on the mirror while you spread some sunscreen on your face, paying special attention to your cheeks and nose. You throw your coverup over you, the thin cloth serves it's purpose to take you from your room to the pool.
"Em! are you almost ready?" you shout at her from the bathroom, but she doesn't answer, so you come out to see what she's been doing instead of getting ready how you had specifically asked her.
"oh, c'mon, really?" you say when you see Emily, sitting on the edge of the bed, checking her phone.
"I'm just checking if we had any messages! That's all, I promise" she says raising her hands, trying to defend herself.
"Emily, please stop worrying, go inside there, put on whatever allows you to sit on a sunbed, and get your ass here so we can actually start our vacation" you say, grabbing her hands and pulling her to stand up, you take the phone off her hands and leave it on the bed.
"ok, you know what? you're right, I'll be back in a second" she says, depositing a soft kiss to your lips, and rushing to the bathroom.
You walk up to the balcony to check if the pool is too crowded.
"Em, it's perfect! I just eyed a spot with our name written on it, it's right next to the bar and far enough from the pool ledge to avoid noise" you yap in a louder voice for her to hear you.
"what? I can't hear you, hey have you seen my shirt?" she says, coming out of the bathroom looking for it while you're still concentrated on the view out the window.
When you turn around, the sight is one for sore eyes. Emily stands there, looking around the bedroom floor absentmindedly "oh- wow" it's all you can manage, mouth dropped.
Her eyebrows lift as she looks up at you, a cocky smile spreading on her lips in amusement when she sees you slack-jawed, frozen in place "like what you see?" her stubborn ass won't ever pass up an opportunity to tease you.
In four large steps you're standing next to her, your fingers tracing the low waistband of her low bikini bottoms.
You nod "This is why i go to work everyday" she scoffs, and you lower your head, connecting your lips with the tender skin of her neck, kissing her there she breathes out at the slow contact, then grabbing your hips and pulling you away from her in a quick motion.
"Hey!" You whine at the loss of contact.
"You said it, c'mon, the sun awaits" she scolds you with a cheeky smile.
"We are on vacation! Can't we just fuck and then go later?" you complain, already knowing the answer.
"No, c'mon, chop chop" she says, throwing her coverup over her shoulders and grabbing her bag. Well, two can play that game.
─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───
When you get to the pool, you take exactly the same seat you had previously devised from your room. Emily places the towels on top of the lounge beds, and sits on hers.
She shoots you a threatening look behind her sunglasses when she sees you sitting beside her just the same.
"hey, need sunscreen?" she asks, holding the bottle up.
"Em, you just want me to take my clothes off and rub stuff on my body" you remark.
"so what if i do? C'mon, take that shit off" she says sitting upright, encouraging you.
"fine" You oblige, stripping off the flowy, white button up cover up.
"Hell, love, if i had seen this i would've taken your suggestion of staying in" she says, biting her lip, her eyes run up and down your body.
"focus, you offered sunscreen remember?" you say, snapping your fingers at her, and turn your back so you're laying flat on your stomach all along the surprisingly comfortable lounge chair, specially in that position.
With your eyes closed, you hear Emily squeezing the sunscreen bottle into her hands.
She starts by rubbing the back of your legs, applying just the right pressure on your calves, massaging the tense muscles.
She takes some more sunscreen, rubs it in her hands, and then moves to get your shoulders. Her skilled fingers massage all the way down to your shoulder blades.
You let a moan escape your lips from the soft pressure on your lower back, she squeezes your hips just hard enough, and chuckles when you let out another sound in pleassure.
"Baby, you're making a scene" she warns you, but you couldn't care any less, not when her touch moves back to your legs, this time to get your thighs.
Her fingers move dangerously up. Her fingers sink on your skin, you can feel her hands moving further up as she keeps working on your muscles.
You let out a louder whine when her fingers bruise where your thighs meet the curve of your ass. Your small bikini bottoms doesn't leve too much the imagination, so lucky for you, she doesn't find any other way of protection when she massages your ass.
You feel so relaxed agains her soft strokes, and the way her fingers sink into your flesh. You barely remember how she might just be taking a bit longer than this process should.
"If you keep that up you will see me making a scene so i suggest you stop what you're doing, or i will get kicked out for public indecency" you whisper to her when her face gets close enough to yours again.
She surprisingly obeys, and leaves you with one last pat.
"ok, all done" she concludes, and sits back in her lounge chair.
"c'mon, your turn" you say, taking her but surprise, but she doesn't complain, she simply smiles and turns around like you had just done.
Damn, you think, if this is what is going to be for the whole weekend, m¡we may not be able to leave that hotel room at all, we need to cool off.
A sudden squeaky sound takes you out of your thoughts, right before you can pick up the sunscreen bottle.
One of those pool rubber balls lands right next to you, and you grab it, turning around to see where it came from.
A group of shirtless guys looks at you from the pool, one of them raises his arms, trying to get your attention "ball help?" he yells.
You walk to them, and hand him the ball, you would've thrown it, but those kind of plastic ones are a bit unpredictable, and you wouldn't want to run for the ball again.
"thanks, hey, can I buy you a drink?" the guy says, he brushes his hair out of his face, so clear to you that he is flexing his arm as he does.
"ugh, no, thanks" you say, trying to be polite, bbut he doesn't seem to take a no for an answer.
"c'mon, how can i pay you back?" he says with a side smile that you wonder if it has ever worked before for him.
"look, man, we're just trying to have a nice time, alright?" you try to keep your cool as much as you can, but this guy really doesn't seem to get the message.
"oh, you having a nice time really is all i want" you fins the comment repulsive, as he raises his brow to you, his friends around him listening, encouraging his words.
"hey, something wrong here?" you hadn't heard Emily come over to where you are, she places her hand on your lower back in a protective gesture.
"oh, nothing around we're just hanging out" he explains. "c'mon baby, you bring your friend with you?" the audacity takes you by surprise.
"friend?" Emily repeats, her hand gripping your waist harder, you know she's about to do something she will later regret, so you decide to take care of it for your sake.
"Ok, you know what? let's do it, swim race, you and me, if you win, you can buy us drinks, if i win, you leave us the hell alone, for real, alright?" his friends encourage him, he smiles at me with a triumphant smile, he brushes his hair trying to flex his arm muscles once again, this time a bit harder. You hear Emily scoff right behind you.
"I like it, I'll let you ten extra seconds just to keep it even" the masculinity display is making you gag.
"oh, no need" Emily gives your waist one last squeeze, before walking away to leave you space to maneuver.
"oh, I wanna see this" she mutters only for you to hear.
As the boy gets out of the pool to take his side next to you, you think back to your academy years. Being a swimmer in high school had helped you through all the physically demanding fitness tests, you remind yourself all the times you had exceeded the water rescue tests, plus, you really liked it.
One of his friends does the countdown, and without thinking too much about it, you throw yourself headfirst in the water.
You aren't thinking too hard about it, you just get to it, and swim. You swim fast. When you reach the end of the pool, you turn in a fast and fluid motion that he doesn't expect, and is definitely not ready for nor he can replicate, which takes him a couple extra seconds to recover.
When you reach the finish line, and you get your head oout of the water, you realized you had dragged the attention from more than one at the pool.
Most importantly, you realize he has lost.
Some people do a little cheer, and his group of friends opt to laugh defeatedly.
You search for your girlfriend, standing right on the pool ledge where you had left her, a proud look and a triumphant smile on her face.
"sorry, guys, maybe another time, or never" she says, waving them away with her hand.
You climb up the ladder to get out, and walk up to her with your arms open. She grabs your face with both your hands to pull you in, crashing her lips against yours in a fervent kiss, your hands grip her waist.
Their eyes burn in your back, you can feel them staring, you could've just started by doing this, and it would've been enough probably, but what was the fun in that?
Emily still kisses you, you can feel her desperation on your mouth, she pours all her feelings in the kiss, and you can only hope that group of assholes is still watching.
When she finally pulls away, her hands softly move away a couple of wet strands of your hair, and her fingers trace your lips sweetly.
"you know, that was amazing" she says, both of you in your own little world like usual.
"Oh yeah, well, no problem" you say in a husky voice, playing it down.
"And do you have any idea how sexy that was, and how badly i want you right now?" she growls.
Your blood rumbles in your ears, the adrenaline from the race still running through your system, and the effect of your girlfriend's hands all over your body still resonating on your skin. You peck her lips, grab her hand, and walk with her to leave the pool, and find your way back to your room.
─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───
Emily inserts the card on the lock of the door, the green light flickers and she pushes the door open with a loud thud.
She aggressively pushes your hips agains the door to close it. You feel a subtle pain on your lower back which turns quickly into heat, as she grabs your thigh with her hand, making you jump to pick you up and push you again agains the door.
This new position allowing her a great access to your neck, she nibbles at the soft skin, licks up and mouths the slope, your soft skin will probably show deep purple marks tomorrow, nothing you could care remotely about right now,
Not when Emily's hand grabs a handful of your ass, and takes you in her arms to bed, tossing you in the middle of the mattress.
She walks away from you, you whine at the lost proximity, she just snaps the do not disturb sign on the outside door handle, and locks it again.
You're breathing uncontrollably when she gets to you, she's still wearing her two piece, the small black fabric barely covers her, and you notice how one of her nipples is basically out, caused by your harsh entrance.
You eye it, and holding her hands, you try to attract her body to yours so you can get her breast in your mouth, but Emily has other plans.
"What was that there baby? What happened to the let it slide, and the easy, Prentiss?" You're at a loss for words, the softness of your voice only makes your heart beat faster, your arousal growing with every touch of hers.
She loops her fingers in the waistband of your bikini bottoms and drags them down your legs. “You didn't just shush him, you crushed him" she kisses your stomach, brushes her lips teasingly over your hipbone.
"Em, please" you whine, breathing loudly.
"please what, honey? c'mon, cat got your tongue? You had a lot of say before, what happened to that?" her hands run through your inner thighs, and avoids getting anywhere near where you actually want her.
She knocks your feet apart, the motion taking a loud gasp out of you.
"keep them open, or I'll tie them open" she threatens.
You're dripping, damn near glistening, and she cups your center, feeling the arousal in her palm, your hips buck at the sudden contact, but you keep your volume in check.
"Good girl" the softness of the petname makes you moan loudly "ssh, it's ok baby" you purr and she enjoys watching the shiver in your muscles.
She kneels in front of your opened legs, her hands still caressing your inner thighs. Your sounds drive her crazy, god she loves to have you like this.
She slithers further down, spreading your folds. "Goddamnit please, Em, do something" you whine.
“Now that wasn’t so hard, was it?” She sinks between your spread thighs, fingers curling and tongue on your clit to soothe the overly sensitive bud.
"Right there love. Oh- that feels so good" you encourage her.
You know how much she loves when you ask nicely, if the situation was different, if you couldn't already feel the muscles on your abdomen clenching, then maybe you would try to tease her too. Not right now, now you need to come now, maybe later you can think about something else.
She adds a little more pressure to her fingers and tongue, and you moan her name, reaching your climax as you arch off the bed.
You open your eyes, coming down from your orgasm, to meet Emily's face close to yours, her gaze softens when your smile meets hers.
"hey, ok?" she asks, checking up on you.
"perfect, but my hair is still wet, and i need a shower" you nod.
"ok, easy, hold on to me" she says, holding your arm, allowing you to deposit all your weight onto her.
The bathroom is big and spacious, the shower head has different modes to set what kind of stream you want. Emily opens it and the warm water falls creating something similar to a heavy rain.
As you stand next to her, you notice how she's still dressed, if that small bikini could count as dressed.
You surround her with your arms, untying the knot of the top from the back, pulling the string you let it fall to the ground, and you kneel to take the bottoms off.
She holds to your shoulders with both hands, and takes her legs out of the small fabric one by one. You observe her from that angle, she looks down at you, she always looks pretty, but in the comfort of your shared intimacy, you could swear she was shinning.
She pulls you uo by your hand, and you both get under the shower water, the stream wide enough to fit both of you.
You shoot a look at her pebbled nipples, feeling almost hypnotized by the way her hair starts to fall over her shoulders, you connect your lips with hers again.
Her mouth welcomes you, letting you win in the fight for dominance, you kiss your way down to her neck, making sure to lick and suck on the most sensitive area that you know drives her crazy.
You kiss all the way around her collarbones, and she moans at the feeling of your hands and lips on her.
She takes all her strength on her to let out a breathless chuckle and encourage your intentions.
"C'mon baby, you got me all worked up already" she says on her low signature sex voice that she knows drives you crazy.
"Let me take care of you, Em" you whisper to her ear, one of your hands move up to play with her breast, you tug the bud between your fingers, squeezing and caressing,
You find her clit immediately, which makes her gasp.
She rocks her hips against you, you know when and how to stroke or circle or flick. You know exactly how much pressure drives her crazy. You already know how to play her body the way she likes it, and she knows you know, so she bucks against your fingers, wanting more of you.
The onslaught of her clit has been nearly constant since you stuck your hand there, she can feel her abdomen muscles clenching, and you play her just the way she needs to get her to her release.
You crash your lips against hers, swallowing up her moans, and you flick her clit repeatedly until she comes undone in your arms.
You wait for her to catch her breath. You both do, you kiss every square inch of skin you can find, her neck, her face, her nose, her chest...
"You destroying those guys is an image that will follow me for a long time" she presses your lips in a sloppy kiss "and i couldn't be happier".
Emily takes her time to massage your scalp, trying to get all the chlorine off your hair. When you both start feeling cold despite the water being warm, you decide it's time to get out.
Emily steps out of the shower, grabbing one of the fluffy and soft bathrobes hanging on the wall and putting it on.
You observe her naked figure from the shower, her slightly muscular back moving along with every step she took, and her long legs have you practically drooling. God, she is too perfect,
She comes back to you, opening her arms and holding the bathrobe open for you to slip in. She ties the knot closing it, and wraps you in her arms on a warm hug.
She holds your waist, and rests her head on your shoulder.
"Em, it's lunchtime already, we should get going" you say, moving away a strand of wet hair falling over her face, and kissing her scalp.
"Just one minute. You feel so warm like this"
─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───
Ok, sorry I kept you waiting, i hope it was worth it and this isn't shit!
Yes, this is a direct reference to that one Station 19 scene.
Also, I was a swimmer in high school, so i projected a little, i'm literally just a girl <3
Like and reblog. Feedback is greatly appreciated <333
#emily prentiss#wlw#emily prentiss imagine#emily prentiss x reader#criminal minds x reader#lesbian#emily prentiss lesbian#lesbian pride#wlw fanfic#wlw smut#criminal minds one#criminal minds smut#criminal minds#criminal minds fic#criminal minds fanfic#criminal minds x you#emily prentiss smut#emily prentiss fic#emily prentiss fluff#derek morgan#penelope garcia#jennifer jareau#david rossi#emily prentiss fanfiction#emily prentiss x you#emily prentiss fandom#paget brewster
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feel free to spam my inbox with thoughts, questions, anything really. im bored :(
matthew’s wink and shimmy has me cracking a smile
#spencer reid#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid fanfiction#emily prentiss#emily prentiss fanfiction#criminal minds#criminal minds fanfiction#i’ve got 30 fics to work on what am i doing#may rambles
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I love your young hotchniss fics where they got together young and stayed together - can you write a minimal loss au based in a universe like that? I can’t stop thinking about Aaron and how he’d react if she was his wife in there.
bonus points if they have a kid or two
Ahhh bestie I LOVE this idea.
And, as always, it massively got away from me and this is now a 3 parter.
I really hope you enjoy this <3
-x-
Even Statues Crumble if They’re Made to Wait
She can't stop thinking about the fact she isn't even meant to be here. That she's still supposed to be at home on maternity leave instead of sitting in a church in Colorado wondering if she'd ever see her husband or her little girl again.
A Minimal Loss AU with a Young Hotchniss twist.
Part 1/3
-x-
Words: 2.7k
Warnings: None for this chapter - but future chapters will have warnings for Emily Prentiss whump, canon typical violence
Read over on A03, or below the cut
November 1993
It’s her idea.
He always liked to joke that most of the crazy things they did were and this was no different. Aaron was sensible. All sharp edges and carefully pressed suits. Emily was the opposite. Wild and slightly all over the place, still rebelling against her parents even though she was now in her 20s. The desire to not conform to what she knew her mother expected of her, to not force herself to be something she knew she could never be, making her make choices she knew her mother would hate.
It’s what had drawn Emily to Aaron in the first place, a need she still didn’t quite understand to mess with him, to blur his clean lines and make him smile when he was trying to be serious. He was different to most people she’d ever met. She’d grown up surrounded by people who never really said what they thought, every word carefully chosen and curated. Aaron didn’t speak much, especially at first when they first met, but he was always honest when he did.
He said so much more than everyone else she knew and now, just shy of 6 months down the line from when she’d first leant in and kissed him, he didn’t have to say anything at all. She knew what he was thinking when his eyebrows would furrow slightly, revealing the line between them that she loved to press her thumb into, easing whatever it was that was troubling him with no more than the feel of her skin against his. She knew when he half smiled at her, one of his dimples peeking out from the depth of his cheek, he was trying to hide his amusement, silently asking her to wait until they were alone to carry on with whatever she was saying.
She sighs contentedly as she stretches in bed, smiling when she feels him pull her close, his arm heavy over her waist as he buries his face in the back of her neck, his lips pressed against her skin.
“Morning,” he says, his gruff voice making a shiver run down her spine. She loved early mornings like this with him. Loved the parts of him that were just for her. She turns in his arms and smiles as they end up face to face, both of them sharing her pillow.
“Morning,” she replies, pressing her lips against his. He drags her impossibly closer, his hand skimming under the shirt she’s wearing, his shirt, his palm warm against her skin, “You sleep okay?”
He nods, taking the opportunity to kiss her cheek, then the tip of her nose, “I always sleep well when I’m with you.”
She can’t help but smile even wider at him, familiar warmth spreading through her chest as his words settle over her. She’d never liked it when people had said things like that to her, the disingenuous nature of it enough to make her skin crawl, but it was different with him. He meant it. He never said anything he didn’t mean.
He loved her, and she loved him. And that was why she was sure she’d made the right decision, even if it would seem nothing short of irrational and impulsive to anyone else.
She reaches for his hand, smiling as she links her fingers through his and the wedding band on her finger clinks against the matching one on his, “Well it’s a good thing we’re going to wake up together forever, huh?”
She’d never intended to get married young and certainly not to a man she’d been with for less than a year. For a long time, she’d claimed she’d never get married at all, her defiance a last stand of sorts against her parent’s expectations of her. A never-ending stream of appropriate men paraded in front of her at boring parties as she dreaded a life as a bored socialite. Aaron changed that. He was older than her, by a couple more years than she was sure her father would approve of, but he never made her feel less than. He never used the fact he was older, that he knew what he wanted from life, against her. Instead, he tried to encourage her, let the parts of her that he’d lost in himself, if he’d ever had them at all, get drawn out She often joked he was born middle-aged even though he was nowhere near it yet, the last few hours before his 29th birthday spent in bed together after getting married.
It’s how she finds herself barely 23 and married to the man she knows is the love of her life. She didn’t have to wait any set amount of time to know that, no matter how much a year ago she never could have believed this was where she would have ended up.
She especially wouldn’t believe it had been her idea. She’d suggested that they get married, something that she’d initially said as a half-joke that quickly turned into a serious plan. He was due to start his new job at the FBI soon, she was just about done with her master’s degree and unsure about what she wanted to do next. The only thing she was sure of, the only thing she thinks she’s ever been sure of, was him.
Aaron had taken some convincing. He’d looked at her like she’d lost her mind, his eyes wide as her suggestion that they just got married hanging in the air around them as they discussed their options going forward. She talked him around, eventually. Gently assuring him that she meant it, that even though they’d only been together a few months she loved him, that she knew he loved her. They’d snuck off to city hall just the two of them with rings she’d bought at a jewellery store on the other side of town just to ensure no one who worked there knew her mother, and now she was lying in bed with her husband, the novelty of it nowhere near wearing off.
“We’re going to have to tell people now,” he says, a nervous edge to his smile as he tucks some of her hair behind her ear, “A secret boyfriend is one thing, a secret husband is something I doubt even you’d manage to keep to yourself.”
She laughs and shakes her head at him, any attempt to pretend to be mad at him lost before it can even begin, “I know. It sounds insane because I know people will have something to say,” she says, smiling softly at him, “But I can’t wait for people to know.”
“Me neither,” he hums, pulling her closer, “I can’t wait to show off my wife.”
Her stomach flips, love she would have wasn’t real outside of the pages of her favourite fairytales making her heart pound in her chest, the beat of it loud in her head as she rests her head on his shoulder, closing her eyes as she settles into him again, keen to drag out this slow morning between them as long as possible before they had to invite in the outside world.
She kisses his shoulder, breathing in the scent of him, something that never fails to calm her down, “Happy birthday, baby.”
He kisses the top of her head, his smile so wide she can feel it against her scalp, “Thanks, sweetheart,” he kisses her again, squeezing her impossibly closer, “I have a feeling 29 is going to be my favourite age yet.”
___
October 2008
He knows his wife is going to be annoyed the moment Stauss asks him to speak to her. He pauses on the porch of their house, giving himself a moment to blow out a slow breath before he steps inside.
“Sweetheart, I’m home.”
“We’re in here,” she replies, her voice floating out from the living room and he smiles, any concern about the conversation they were about to have disappearing as he shrugs off his coat and slips off his shoes. His smile gets wider as he walks into the living room, an invisible weight lifting off his shoulders the moment he sees his wife and daughter. Emily smiles back at him, her exhaustion clear but in no way diminishing her beauty, and she turns so the baby girl against her chest is facing him, “Look Alice, Daddy’s home.”
He walks over and kisses Emily before he cups the back of his daughter’s head, stamping a kiss against the 10-week-olds dark hair, “How are my girls?”
“Tired,” Emily says, kissing him as he stands back up straight, “But good. How was work?” She asks, starting to pace back and forth as Alice cries out, “We missed you.”
“I missed you both too,” he says, offering his hands out, “Want me to take her?”
She shakes her head gratefully, “It’s okay,” she says, kissing the top of Alice’s head, “She’ll need feeding soon anyway.”
He nods and clears his throat, his earlier conversation with his boss coming back to haunt him as he watches his wife and daughter, “Strauss asked how you were doing earlier.”
Emily pauses for a brief second before she carries on, her eyes narrowing slightly, “Why?”
“She was interested,” he says, clearing his throat again when she raises her eyebrows at him as she sees through his obvious lie, “She asked if I’d ask you to work a case.”
She frowns, coming to a stop, “When?”
“The next couple of days.”
She scoffs, adjusting her hold on Alice, “You do realise I’m on maternity leave, right?” She asks incredulously, “I had a baby 10 weeks ago. You were there as she tunnelled out of me.”
He covers a laugh, knowing it would be the wrong thing to do at the best of times, let alone when she was exhausted and hormonal, “Yes. I remember.”
“Does Strauss?” She asks, sighing when Alice starts to fuss again, “Sorry sweet girl,” she says, kissing her forehead as she starts to pace again, “Mommy’s sorry,” she looks up at her husband and sighs, “I’m not even in the BAU anymore. When I go back I’m back in Counterterrorism.”
“I know that too,” he replies, and she gives him a look, one he knows is a warning, “Sorry. She asked if you could do it because it requires a bit of undercover work as a social worker at a compound out in Colorado. She thinks that your background at Interpol and your experience in child advocacy will help. I told you it's impressive that you used to be a spy.”
"I wasn't a spy," she grumbles as she always did when he made that joke, "I did paperwork in their DC office for years." She sighs, guilt blooming in her chest, forcing her to breathe in deeply part of what he'd said stuck in her head, “Child advocacy?”
He walks over and places his hand on her arm, “We got a call that the leader of the sect has taken some child brides,” he says, hating how she presses her lips together and shakes her head, her cheek resting against Alice’s head, “Strauss and the Deputy Director believe it’s time critical.”
She nods, blowing out a shaky breath, “It can’t wait another couple of weeks until I’m supposed to be back?”
“I’ll tell her no if you want me to sweetheart,” he says, placing his hand on her back, pulling her and Alice into his arms, “You and Alice come first. You know that.”
She does know that. She knows he’d do whatever she wanted and she loves him for it. When she was younger, in her early 20s and freshly married to a man she’d known only for a few months, a part of her worried her feelings for him would fade over the years. That reality would eventually set in and real life would get in the way. If anything, reality had only ever made her love him more. Everything they lived through together, good and bad, was evidence that she’d made the right decision when she asked him to marry her.
“I should go,” she says eventually, her lips pressed firmly together, her duty to her work, to the innocent people stuck on a compound in Colorado that she could help, “I’m not sure how I’m going to make it work when I’m breastfeeding our kid,” she quips, forcing the humour in an attempt to settle the anxiety in her belly, “But I’ll go.”
“You’re sure?” He asks, and she nods, holding Alice impossibly closer, “I’ll come with you,” he says, and her eyes go wide, panic that he’d forgotten their agreement they wouldn’t work cases together anymore because of their daughter flooding her chest. It was one of the reasons she’d left the BAU when she had Alice, so that her little girl would never lose both of her parents, “No, sweetheart. Not into the compound. I don’t think I’d pass for a social worker anyway,” he feels something in his chest ease when she smiles at his poor attempt for a joke, “Reid will go in with you. I’ll come to Colorado with you and stay in the hotel room with your mini-me,” he says, running his knuckle up and down Alice’s cheek, “That way you can still feed her as normal around the visit to the compound, and we’ll be there to meet you when you’re done.”
She hums, raising her eyebrow at him, “You’ve thought this through.”
“I’ve been married to you almost 15 years, I knew I had to have a plan ready,” he winks at her, “I told Strauss we’d need the jet.”
She scoffs, the sound startling Alice for a moment as Emily stares at Aaron, “Damn right we’re using the jet. I’m not taking my tiny perfect baby on a commercial flight.”
___
Emily tugs at the blue material of her shirt, groaning as it doesn’t sit quite as she wants it to over her chest. She turns to look at Aaron and Alice, the little girl content in her father’s arms and she smiles. It fades as she turns back to the mirror and looks at her reflection.
“You’re damn lucky you’re cute, sweet girl,” she says, looking at herself once more before she walks over and joins them on the hospital bed, “Because Mommy used to be hot. Now she’s all…lumpy and it’s your fault.”
“You’re not lumpy,” Aaron says fiercely, his eyebrows knitting together at her criticism of herself, “You’re beautiful,” he adjusts his hold on Alice, his heart swelling in his chest as his little girl smiles when she looks at Emily, “Mommy is so beautiful, right Princess?” He laughs when Alice babbles and looks back up at his wife, “See, she agrees.”
“You two are sweet,” She hums and leans in to kiss Alice’s forehead before she kisses Aaron, she checks her watch and hesitates, blowing out a slow breath as she realises it’s almost time to go, that she’s about to leave her daughter behind for more than a few minutes for the first time since she’d been born, “I guess I should go.”
Aaron wraps his arm around her and pulls her close, his lips against her forehead, “We’ll be fine, Em. The sooner you go, the sooner you’ll be back,” he says, cupping her cheek as he pulls back, “You just fed her, that mini fridge in the corner is full of milk you pumped. She’s probably going to sleep the entire time you’re gone and when you get back you can have all the snuggles you want.”
She nods and then swallows thickly, “You’re right,” she kisses Alice’s cheek and then her forehead, taking a moment to breathe her in, “Mommy loves you so much sweet girl,” she says, kissing her once more before she sits up straight and kisses Aaron, “I love you as well.”
“We both love you,” he says, kissing her once more before she stands up, only letting go of her hand once she’s moved far away from the bed for their fingers to slip past each other, “We’ll see you in a little while.”
“Yeah,” she replies, taking a moment to look at them, to take in the sight of them together, “See you in a little while.”
The way he smiles at her, the way he lifts Alice’s hand to wave at her as she closes the hotel room door, is the image that stays with her as the next few days unfold.
-x-
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Dom Emily prentiss x intern fem reader is all i ask!! Smutty ofc, a lil bit of a humiliation kink if you’re comfortable!!! Thank yewww
Packing Heat
One shot | Criminal Minds Masterlist | Masterlists
Fandom: Criminal Minds
Pairing: Emily Prentiss x fem!Reader
Genre: Smut
Words: 4.8k+
Warnings: 18+, minors DNI, strap-ons (r!receiving), semi-public sex (office sex, again…), praise, degradation, mommy kink, kind of dub-con at one point, top!Emily, bottom!reader
Summary: Interning at the BAU means you don’t interact with the person in charge a lot. Of course, this doesn’t mean you haven’t seen the section chief in passing or exchanged pleasantries; it's that they’re simple, short-lived and often anti-climatic. However one evening, you find yourself in the desolate office with no chance of going home, work to be done, but no one to sit with you through the process. With only one other soul residing on the sixth floor, it seems Emily may be your best bet for company.
A/n: Listen, could she be more dom? Yes. Is there any humiliation? Not really... But I got lost while writing, so please don't be mad at me... Hope you still enjoy!
When you'd first started at the BAU, it was safe to say you hadn't seen much of the woman calling the shots. There were always updates about when the team were taken out of state, what their cases would entail, the steady progress being made, and the brief comical encounters Garcia spewed around the office. When they were back, everyone made an effort to small talk. They welcomed you well and continued to appreciate the little things you did for them daily. Emily, however, was constantly on the go, meaning every encounter you'd had with her consisted of one-way glances and hopeful smiles in the event she decided to notice her surroundings and the human lifeform less than two metres away.
She never did, though, until one uneventful evening.
Almost everyone had vacated the building. The only remaining souls left on the sixth floor were you, Emily, and a one-person cleaning crew—whom you watched exit through glass doors before approaching the brunette's office with shaky knees. Peeking through the window, you saw her attention dart to and from the bright computer screen to the mountains of bureaucratic paperwork lying atop her desk. It was easy to get lost in the little creases between her eyebrows, brought out by the deep scowl she wore, the delicate way her fingers were woven together, and the pads of her thumbs skirting against one another as she pondered in deep thought.
It was nearing eight, and you were struggling to understand how someone could appear so put together at this late hour, given that their day was most certainly jam-packed with non-stop slog.
Emily's eyes suddenly flashed up. She squinted toward her door, trying to figure out who'd be here this late other than herself. When she appeared to have worked it out, she leaned back victoriously in her chair, a smug smile on her face, when she called out, "Are you going to stand out there all night?"
You could have done two things: scurried off like a teenager caught peeping or held your chin up high and walked into the older woman's office with little to no shame. Somehow, you managed to do a mix of both, scurrying in with sagging shoulders, a guilty smile plastered on your face and trembling hands clasping your laptop over your chest.
"Well, it's eerily quiet out there, and I would go home to write this paper. It's just that my roommate and her boyfriend have an awful tendency to forget about volume control when they're—" You cut yourself off, realising it probably wasn't appropriate to talk to your boss about your roommate's over-the-top borderline pornographic soundscape. "I was wondering if I could, you know."
Emily, satirising as ever, waited with a raised eyebrow and a relaxed smile for you to continue your purposefully unfinished question.
"Sorry, I should let you work." You surrendered to your weak resolve with flushed cheeks and began to turn around.
"Sit," she ordered before you had fully turned back around to the door, nodding to the available chair on the other side of her desk. Her eyes followed your journey to the seat, watching as you placed your laptop down and opened it with shaky fingers. Satisfied, she turned her attention back to her work. "I could do with some company."
The following silence, starting as unsettling and stagnant, blossomed into something warm and comfortable. There were occasional glances thrown your way and vice versa. Their acknowledgement and appreciation were shown in the form of timid smiles on your end and double takes followed by teasing smirks on Emily's.
When half an hour had passed, your shoulders had finally relaxed, your fingers had stopped their infernal twitching, and your paper neared its completion. There was a proud smile cresting, and you were trying to prevent it from forming, knowing how dorkish it made you look. But you knew there was no hope when your cheeks ached and your jaw locked. You granted yourself the freedom to display your gloating smile.
Just as expected, Emily had a questioning look on her face when you dared to look up from the document. There was a playfulness to the upward quirk of her lips - the superiority of a predator knowing the power they have over their prey, ready to prove it at any given moment.
"I've almost finished," you timidly admitted, feeling obligated to explain as heat infiltrated your jutted-out cheeks.
Without a second thought, the ravenette stood up and made her way around the desk. She could have easily chosen to turn the laptop around. Instead, she took the far more intimate route.
Soft curves grazed your shoulder blades, causing you to shiver. The weight finally settled, soft padding pressed flat against your back as Emily read your paper, and suddenly, your stomach had worked itself into looping knots, and your heart was racing.
The struggle continued as you fought not to fidget, if only to alleviate the growing tension mounting between your thighs. This was only made worse when Emily's right hand left the back of your chair to drop down over your shoulder and land comfortably on your thigh.
"Such a smart girl," she whispered sultrily into the shell of your ear, squeezing generous flesh between her fingers.
With a scrambled brain, there was little fight to be put up against the meek whimper that crackled against the constricted lining of your throat. Subconsciously, your thighs tensed, and your pussy fluttered as you were reminded how close Emily's hand was to where you could only dream she'd touch.
You'd thought you imagined it—the subtle shift in the room from breezy and light to torrid and all-consuming, but with Emily's fingers veering off course, inching higher and higher, reality came crashing down.
"Thank you," you struggled to get the words out, and when they did come out, they were tremulous and feeble.
Turning to look at her may have, in hindsight, been a mistake because where her gaze should have been fixed on the laptop screen, it was glued to your lips. Unexpectedly, your stomach flipped, and you felt dizzy. She was still superbly perfect up close, skin smooth like silk, cheekbones sharp as a razor, and lips cut from velvet. It was too close, dangerously so, you had to look away. Outside the window, you spotted a swarm of birds barely visible against the night sky. You ignored the clanking of your heart as you focussed on their synchronicity, watching them circle each other until they became one big blur of messy movements.
The hand resting on the leather backing of your chair rose, skirting up and over your neck, until a firm grip was established around your dangling ponytail. She was gentle when she tugged, aware that though she wanted to educate you in the art of being owned, you were delicate.
"I think a pretty thing like you deserves a reward," she baited. "Don't you?"
Her grip on you may have been physical. However, a stronger pull was coming from deep within you, an unimportant piece of scrap metal drawn in by a powerful magnet. It was useless to deny her. The mesmerising glow of her chocolate eyes and the promise of being made to feel special was too powerful. So, you nodded slowly but eagerly, desire painting your eyes dark shades of lust.
"That's a good girl."
Emily didn't miss how you preened at the praise and safely stored that information away for further use. She shifted to your side, hands migrating to the small of your waist, guiding you to your feet. The act of it was far gentler than you'd expected, like a gentleman asking a maiden to dance, sweeping her off her feet to whisk her away into a fairytale land filled with magic and romance.
Certain the benign treatment would be short-lived, you granted yourself the leniency to enjoy it whilst it lasted, refusing to get too caught up in the dull ache between your legs that craved the form of savagery Emily displayed in the field.
There was nothing short of passion in how she worked. It drove you crazy. As wrong as it felt, you couldn't help but envy the dirtbag the team was working to catch because you saw how badly the brunette wanted them. The look in her eyes, gratification and disgust all at once, when she'd achieved what she set out to do and was staring the devil right in the face - it made your heart race, your palms sweat and your cunt throb.
The memory kickstarted what could only be described as a brutal attack upon the older woman's lips. To her credit, Emily indulged the outburst for a lot longer than you'd have thought. As if she'd expected it, she quickly responded, pulling you into her body and tilting her head to the side to deepen the kiss. The lead was stolen promptly from your grasp when Emily wedged a leg between your thighs, backed you up against her desk and tactically slid her tongue into your gaped mouth. You would have gasped if not for the fact you were immediately indulged in the minty taste of your boss's tongue skirting over the roof of your mouth. So much so that you scarcely noticed the pressure coming from your core was no longer just a phantom need manifested but taut clothed muscle pressing you further and further into the sharp wooden edge of the desk.
"Emily," you breathily moaned, pulling back and separating your kiss-swollen lips from the brunette's. Ordinarily, you wouldn't have allowed what happened next to occur, but this was Emily, after all, the BAU section chief, and if you were to let anyone order you about, it would be her.
She backed away from you with a final nip to your bottom lip, letting it go with a pop, and you fought the urge to reach out and pull her back to you. You knew you'd already tried to take things into your own hands once, and doing so again may undermine any chances you had of keeping the ball rolling on tonight's affairs.
You could feel the tight pull of your ponytail and all the places where hair had been lead array from the confines of your hairband, and it truly dawned on you how out of sorts you must have appeared. Tracing your fingers over your lips, you could make out how swollen they were - puffy and hot, yet desperate and pouted, begging for more. Your breathing was laboured, filling the room's silence, and your shirt suddenly felt too tight as your chest expanded with each intake of oxygen. It almost came as a relief when Emily opened her mouth to finally speak until you heard what she'd said.
"Take your clothes off," she mindlessly ordered, walking around to her chair and sitting back in it. Her eager eyes trained over your body with the faintest shimmer of mirth.
Initially, it was a shock. Of course, it was. You were in an official government building, personnel still sparsely spread throughout, and a goddess of a woman was asking you to bare yourself to her.
For the longest time, revealing your body to someone always felt like giving up something. Perhaps some kind of purity. The moment you gave it up, it bred only guilt and shame that twisted and pulled at the pit of your stomach until you felt sick. You stood there, waiting for that feeling to come. It never did.
Remaining still, your body pulsed not with nerves but with exhilaration and anticipation. It took a few seconds to realise this was precisely what you wanted. You wanted to give this false sense of purity away. There was not a sudden influx of courage soaring through every living cell of your body. However, there was enough for you to put on a front and do as you were told.
"Slowly." Emily sat further back and placed her elbows neatly over the arms of her chair. She laced her fingers together, offered you an encouraging nod, and then was back to watching you raptly.
Feeling like a glutton, you followed a path of desire and heeded Emily's request, fingers increasingly fumbling over each button of your shirt.
"So obedient." And in no way was it said negatively; the adulatory smile she gave you only sought to prove that further.
The way she looked at you made you feel as though you were already naked. Maybe that was why it was so easy to get lost in the subtlety of undressing. It was art, and you were a performer. That's what you told yourself. And for the most part, it worked.
With closed eyes, you trailed your fingers over your shoulders, letting your shirt drop to the floor. The AC raised goosebumps over your chest, pebbled your nipples under your plain bra, and you smiled. You smiled because this was the most alive you had felt in months. The thrill of moving on to your slacks and deftly unclasping your belt felt like being on a rollercoaster, like missing a step and laughing fear in the face afterwards. You felt utterly fearless.
In the back of your mind, you could sense Emily's eyes still on you. You could hear her moving around but didn't think to check her reaction. You were in your element, and far be it for a look of appraisal, or lack of, to stop you. That was until your trousers hit the carpet with a soft thud, and a sharp breath was heard from across you.
Your eyes snapped open, and you found Emily's smile was absent. The brunette now had her bottom lip trapped between her teeth as she looked you up and down, knuckles white from her deadly grip over the armrests.
She lifted a hand, palm facing the ceiling as her index and middle finger crooked. "Come here so I can get a proper look at you," she said, slightly breathless.
The desk had conveniently covered the lower half of Emily's body, which meant that when you circled around and came to stand next to her, you could see exactly what the earlier ruffling had been about.
"Is that?" You froze, both shocked and utterly intrigued by the thick black dildo jutting out from the older woman's opened slacks.
She didn't need you to finish the question, already nodding as she followed your line of sight. Leaning forward with an outstretched arm, Emily coiled her fingers around your wrist and pulled you forward, causing you to almost stumble over your own feet. At this closer distance, you could tell the faux cock would give you a run for your money. It was thicker than anything you had taken before, though that was not a hard trophy to earn, given that the most you had let anyone put inside you was three fingers.
"Do you want to come sit on mommy's lap?" Emily asked with a tilt of her head.
She didn't miss how your breath caught in your throat, how you seemed to stop blinking, stop moving, stop existing.
"Are you scared?" the lioness asked, sights set on her prized fawn.
You shook your head and placed one foot in front of the other, eyes downcast as you took in the size of Emily's additional appendage. The shake of your jaw gave you away.
"I don't like being lied to," she snapped, eyes dimming to an even darker shade of brown.
She pulled you in by your waist and sat you on her lap, cock brushing over the thin material of your underwear. Instinctively, you wedged your bottom lip between your teeth to quiet yourself. But Emily wasn't having any of it. Her thumb came to your captive lip, where she helped release it with a soft flick.
The smooth texture of Emily's cock through your sodden panties was a needed relief. Its head purposefully pressing against your sensitive bundle of nerves evoked a flurry of shivers to run down your spine. And with nothing holding you back, you moaned in gratitude.
"Feels good, doesn't it?" Emily smirked, watching you rut against her.
"Yes," you uttered, breath caught in your throat.
Happy to watch, Emily relaxed her shoulders and leaned back, enjoying the show you were putting on for her. Only when she recognised the tell-tell signs of frustration wash over your features, from your creased brow to the bite of your lip between your teeth, did a sick smirk lick the edges of her lips. With a mischievous glint shining in her eyes, the older woman shifted her position, pointedly ignoring the sound it pulled from you.
"Something wrong?" she asked with a hitch of one eyebrow, adamant to appear oblivious.
You gave no reply, only held tight to her shoulders in defiance and continually ground down on her, trying so hard to pleasure yourself to no avail that your eyes began to sting with the emergence of tears.
With sweat threatening to spill down the side of your face, the tension between your legs starting to ache, and your release nowhere near in sight, you threw your head back with a sigh and whispered a quiet 'please' to the ceiling.
"Please what?" Came the dull reply, tone bored, unamused, unimpressed.
You tried to impale yourself, failing as strong hands held you down. It was driving you crazy—pleasure being so close yet so far.
With one hand removed from your hip, Emily gripped your jaw and turned your attention solely to her stern gaze, "Are you going to stop being a brat and tell me what you want?"
When no answer came, she let go, jerking your head back as if disgusted with the lack of compliance.
"Get up."
Ice, you were made of ice. Sat still, shocked, speechless and slightly mortified.
"Do I need to repeat myself?" Emily's voice was no longer flat; it was not roaring either. Instead, it was layered, resembling the same barbed tone a teacher might use with a disobedient student. It was enough of a motivator to get you to rise to your feet.
Following you closely, the older woman, too, rose to her full height, hands meticulously reaching behind your back to expertly relieve you of your bra. Never once did she look you in the eye.
With the same callous approach, you were turned and pressed against the desk, papers sticking to your heated chest. Emily was quick to loop her fingers through the hem of your underwear and slip them down your thighs, allowing gravity to do the rest.
The full-bodied presence behind you lessened, and you took it as the opportune moment to glance back.
The brunette had let her trousers drop to the floor, allowing you to see how her porcelain skin was directly contrasted by the black leather of her strap-on. Unlike yourself, she did not appear nervous or afraid. As she kicked the tailored pants aside and met your gaze, you realised how in control she was.
Her gaze moved down your body, hands running down your back, until finally, she pressed herself against you and lowered her body atop yours.
"I can feel how wet you are," she teased, running two fingers through the mess between your legs. "Are you always this wet?"
"Emily, please," you begged.
"I asked before, please what?" She raked five fingers down your side, moving them back up till they wound tightly in your hair and gripped your neck to an uncomfortable arch. Two fingers pushed inside you but did no more than that, remaining still as stone. "If you're going to be a baby and refuse to tell me what you want, you'll get nothing."
"Fuck me!" You no longer had the sound of mind to acknowledge shouting something vulgar could attract attention. Logic had evaded you, allowing you to play right into your boss's hands. "Please just fuck me."
Sliding her slick fingers out of you, she proudly stated, "That wasn't hard, was it?"
If the older woman wanted an answer, she did not allow for one. In one fluid motion, she rose from over you and snapped her hips forward, sheathing the entire length of her cock into your cunt. Your breath caught in your throat, resulting in a strained groan tumbling out of your open mouth. The pit of your stomach dropped, and try as you might have not to clench around the toy inside you, you did precisely that.
It was new, the foreign feeling of being filled so fully that one slight move would summon pleasure that sent shivers through your whole body. It wasn't unwelcome, especially when Emily started to move, and heat engulfed your entire body. Her pace was languid, allowing you to feel each slide of her cock along your slick walls, how each push of her hips ended in the tip hitting the spot within you to cause the furling in your stomach to expand tenfold. It was all you could do not to scream when the push and pull and Emily's hips moved with more purpose, jerking your body into the edge of her desk.
"I've barely started, and you're already dripping down your thighs." Her voice was laced with mirth, finger smearing your mess as if to prove an unnecessary point that had your cheeks burning up. "How long have you been thinking about this?" Emily finished her question with an arduous thrust. "How many times have you sunk your fingers into your pussy and thought of me?"
The questions continued, each hitting the nail right on the head. Your cheeks were scorched with the embarrassment that comes with having your desires known and exposed, but it did not take hold of your conscience as the event of falling in front of a large crowd might have. It was comparable to how a blushing maiden may feel when caught by a suitor in only their undergarments. It excited that small part of you that gave in to demoralisation and encouraged you enough to meet Emily halfway as she thrust into you.
As your pleasure mounted, the need for more grew. Your clit, swollen and needy, begged for relief, and you beckoned to its call, sliding one hand from above your head to the juncture between your legs. It was when the tips of your fingers brushed against your sensitive pearl and you gained the briefest taste of the euphoria that Emily removed her hand from your thigh and snatched your hand away, halting all movement.
You could have cried, having everything, then nothing, so quickly.
"Did I say you could do that?"
Abruptly pulling out, Emily stood tall and proud, staring down at you with curiosity and disappointment lining the brown of her eyes. She heard you whimper and acknowledged your sniffle.
"There's no need to cry," she tutted, flipping you onto your back and lifting you by your shoulders. "You're going to listen to me from now on."
You nodded, and she once again lined her cock to your opening, only now she waited, taunting you with possibilities.
"Beg," she instructed.
And you heeded.
"Please. I need you."
"You can do better." She sounded bored, and this struck a nerve within you, one that begged you to impress her, show her you could be a good little girl, and beg as though your life depended on it.
You took a heaving breath and looked into Emily's eyes, sporting your best puppy eyes. "I need you. I want you inside me. I want you to fuck me with your big cock, mommy. Make me scream out your name. I need it."
"There's a good pet," she cooed, mesmerising you with the bating of her lashes as she looked down to where your bodies were so close to touching.
It all happened in a blur. The next thing you knew, your nails were digging into muscled shoulders, legs wrapping around a slim waist as the brunette filled you, wasting no time in picking up a brutal tempo. You barely recognised the sound of your voice as high-pitched obscenities spilt past your lips. You felt your whole body light up, heard blood pulse in your ears, and saw in real-time just how easy it was to aid Emily in calling upon your impending orgasm.
Your vulgar mouth, luckily, seemed to amuse Emily enough for her to let you continue rutting your hips against her. The corners of her lips curled, and her smirk lasted only so long for you to see before she inched forward and kissed you with passion and hunger. It was easy, so easy, to melt into the brief moment of intimacy. The butterflies felt tangible, and the sparks crackled in your ears; it felt so fucking good you'd almost forgotten just where you were. Of course, bubbles eventually popped, and this one was demolished by rustling outside Emily's office.
What little movement Emily allowed, her hands holding you firmly against the desk by your waist, was not enough to wriggle free and glance behind to see what was happening. Instead, the possibility of being caught weighed heavier with each drawled-out second.
"Emily," You tried but were cut off by a tongue sliding into your mouth. "Emily, stop."
With a bite to your lip, the older woman backed off, confusion marking her features, "What is it?" she punctuated her question with a hard thrust.
"Someone's o-" another hard thrust. "Someone's outside."
Emily smiled, picking up her pace, forcing you to breathe so deep you felt your lungs expand.
"You'd better be quiet then."
Whatever protest you were about to give died in your throat when nails skirted up to your chest and dug painfully into your breast, and Emily pushed herself so deep within you that you felt her hitting your cervix. A strangled cry was briefly heard before you managed to clasp your hand over your lips and silence your own mewls. She was fucking you as if her life depended on getting a reaction out of you that would draw attention. Nevertheless, you held firm and stayed as quiet as your muffled sobs would allow you to be.
"Emily, please," you were pleading for release and for the brutal fucking stop because you knew there would be no chance you could keep a lid on your volume; there would also be no chance you would survive not cumming.
Taking note of this, the older woman took the route of giving you your release, dragging a thumb down over your clit and applying the right amount of pressure to have your tense legs turn into a shaky mess of tremors. She didn't stop there; with a brief slide, she ran your slick over your bundle of nerves and started to circle steadily.
"Fuck!" You screamed out, missing the way the ruffling outside suddenly stopped. "I'm cumming. I'm cumming."
"That's it," the brunette encouraged, her fingers coming up to crook and tangle through the mussed mess of your hair, nails slowly working against your scalp. "Let everyone hear what a slut you are, letting me fuck you over my desk."
She didn't stop, though, not when your clit felt raw and your pussy tender, not when you begged and not even when you reached out and tried to grab her wrist. Emily only yanked you down by your hair, relishing the thud the brutal move made. She fucked you harder till stationary fell to the floor from your thrashing arms, and by then, her lips were already wrapped around a nipple, sucking firm whilst you cried through a second orgasm.
When you finally felt empty, you didn't even try to open your eyes. You knew your vision would be blurred if not blacked out. Instead, you focussed on coming back down to earth, steading your breath and not thinking about how you strangely missed being filled by Emily despite being so fucking sore.
"Are you still alive?" a smug voice asked from above, and you pried your bleary eyes open to weakly smile.
"I think so," you whispered, peeling your sweat-slick back from the desk. That was when you remembered the unknown personnel outside and shot a look at the door.
"They're gone," Emily said, cupping your chin and turning you back to her. Again, you were greeted by that conniving smirk. "After your commentary, I think they understood we didn't want to be disturbed."
"But-"
"Uh-uh." she silenced you with a finger to your lips, the smell of yourself still narrowly fragrant. You took the digit into your mouth, patting yourself on the back as you watched Emily's eyes turn dark. "You want to make Mommy feel good now, don't you?" She knew the answer, but oh, how she loved to watch you sink to your knees and eagerly nod anyway. You helped unclasp the straps of her harness, then set to pealing the last barrier keeping you from her heat down her legs.
"My good little pet," she said, smiling down at you and happily watching you beam. Her hand cupped your jaw before moving to the back of your neck, where she pulled you to her core and began singing a melody of moans.
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https://www.tumblr.com/abbyromanoff/733612847112896512/requests-will-now-be-open-for-one-day-for
LOVED YOU FIC FOR KINKTOBER WITH EMILY PRENTISS SOOOO if you’re up to it i would love to request another fic with her! mommy!emily preferably, some choking, and emily being a real head pusher (strap or no strap, both?) because she’s possessive af!! and emily being all mocky when she’s pushing reader into subspace
love me a little mean!dom!emily
thanks and have a good day!
KEEP QUIET
PAIRINGS: Emily Prentiss x reader
WORD COUNT: 726
WARNINGS: smut, breeding, talks of pregnancy, Mommy (E), choking, hair pulling, sex in office, strap on usage, breeding strap, possessiveness, begging, praise, degrading, think that’s all :)
NO ONE IS PERMITTED TO STEAL, COPY, OR REBLOG MY WORK AS THEIR OWN!!
“Shut your fucking mouth, baby, I don’t want nobody hearing those sweet moans except me,” Emily mumbled, and you returned a quiet apology. She sent a glare your way, and you quickly realized she was not joking. Her office was a sacred place of hers, one where she went nearly every day and spent more than half of her adulthood in. It wasn’t exactly private, but it was her very own that she was not forced to share.
JJ had greeted you when you walked in, giving you a small smile before you both fell into a small conversation about her husband and children. You always wanted a family, both women knew that, so Emily wasn’t entirely surprised when you ended up late at her door. You were only visiting to drop off her lunch and eat with her, but that soon changed when you were forced down onto the desk, your tits against the cold wood, and the papers she had been stressing over were now tossed to the floor.
“So fucking stressed, but you’re gonna help me, yeah? You being Mommy’s good little fuck-toy?” You nodded, tears rolling down your cheeks and causing her to chuckle deeply.
“I saw how excited you got talking to JJ, seeing her baby bump must’ve made you so, so jealous. But don’t you worry, I’ll give you a baby, sweetheart. I’ll make you the prettiest mommy.”
“Em,”
“Shut the fuck up! I don’t exactly remember saying you could speak, now did I?” Her hand played with your hair before she yanked it towards her direction, allowing your neck to be free of access to the lustful woman. She grabbed it, using her fingers to squeeze on your pulse points ever-so-slightly.
“I could see behind those sweet, innocent eyes that you were just dying to be her. Which is why-“ She cut herself off, a groan escaping her lips as you clenched around her strap. She couldn’t exactly feel it, but it caused the toy to rub perfectly against her pulsing clit.
“I got this specially made. Now, all I have to do is click this button, and you’ll be dripping in Mommy’s cum.” She teased the item, and you moaned at the thought. You had been begging for her to breed you, impregnate you, but the two of you both knew it was impossible under your circumstances.
“I’ve been wanting to fill this dirty cunt since you begged me that one night. You just looked so fucking precious, and now you look even sexier with my marks.” Hickey’s covered your skin, from past and present. Your thigh held a carving of her name from months ago when she caught you drunkenly flirting with your friend, even if you knew it was simply platonic. Then there was the tattoo, the one she paid for and monitored while you hesitantly agreed. It was right on your arm, ‘property of Emily Prentiss’. The thought of anyone seeing was utterly shameful, but she adored the idea. She wanted everyone to know who you belonged to, which was, and always will be, her.
“And for being so good, I’m going to let you cum. But I’ll be cumming first, got that?” You nodded, covering your mouth with your hand while she continued to pump her length inside of you. Her fingers traveled upward until they reached your mouth, pushing past the blockage as she inserted them.
“Oh- fuck! Fuck, I’m so close!” She yelled, and only moments later you felt the false liquid bursting inside of you. Her movements came to a halt, her breathing ragged and heavy while her thighs shook, waves seeming to crash over her as her coil snapped like a spring.
You began allowing yourself to give in, your body on the brink of overbearing pleasure until she pulled out, the cum slowly beginning to leak down your thighs.
“No, please! Please, I’ve been so good, Mommy- I- I need to cum so bad.” You cried, and she only mocked you as a result.
“You said I could, I-“ Her finger came to her lips in a shushing expression, and while you couldn’t see it, you could hear the taunt.
“Oh, I know,” She said. “But I never told you when, and Mommy wants to play a little longer, alright? And you want to make Mommy happy, correct?”
#emily prentiss x you#emily prentiss x fem!reader#emily prentiss x y/n#emily prentiss x female reader#emily prentiss x reader smut#emily prentiss fluff#emily prentiss x reader#emily prentiss smut#emily prentiss fanfiction#emily prentiss#criminal minds x reader#criminal minds
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Texting the BAU: Would they still love you if you were a worm?
I'm not sure if anyone's ever done this before, but I was inspired by the AI voice tiktok that I saw of 'Hotch' answering this question! The user that posted the tiktok I saw was 'shiftershiz', I thought their video was really cool and I owe them the inspiration for this post!
This post has Hotch, Garcia, Morgan, Rossi, JJ, Reid, and Prentiss. If you'd like to request a temp agent that I didn't include, or an earlier one that got written off, please do so in my inbox, I'd be happy to make more :)
I apologize if some of these pictures are a bit longer than others, I cut the conversation into two 'screenshots' when I could but sometimes it was easier just to stretch them out a teeny bit.
(Almost) all of these can be read as either platonic or romantic, the only hitch is that I mention Will in JJ's post so unless you're envisioning a throuple that one won't work </3
Images under cut to avoid a long post, happy texting!
Hotch:
Garcia:
Morgan:
Rossi:
JJ:
Reid:
Prentiss:
#bau x reader#penelope garcia x reader#emily prentiss x reader#aaron hotchner x reader#jennifer jareau x reader#spencer reid x reader#david rossi x reader#derek morgan x reader#aaron hotchner imagine#spencer reid imagine#derek morgan imagine#emily prentiss imagine#david rossi imagine#penelope garcia imagine#jennifer jareau imagine#emily prentiss fanfiction#aaron hotchner fanfiction#derek morgan fanfiction#spencer reid fanfiction#penelope garcia fanfiction#david rossi fanfiction#jennifer jareau fanfiction#bau fanfiction#bau imagine#criminal minds x reader#criminal minds imagine#criminal minds fanfiction
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Cherry lips l emily prentiss x reader
Tags: fluff, first kiss, getting together, r has a lip peeling problem (bc I do too), teeny tiny mention of blood (from the lip peeling), no use of yn
Summary: Tired of seeing you pick at your lips, Emily gives you some lip balm. That proves to be a mistake.
Word count: 1.5k
“Here.” Emily throws a stick of lip balm at you.
It falls on your lap and you give her a confused frown. She barely holds back an eye roll; your fingers are currently pinching a rough patch of skin on your lip—the rest is already peeled off—and when you drop your hand to pick up the chapstick, she catches a smear of blood on your thumbnail.
It really is such a shame.
You have the most beautiful lips; kissable and soft looking and she’s so often gripped with the urge to lean forward and press her own to yours, test out that softness for herself.
But you have a bad habit—you pick at them constantly, your nails catching on rough skin and peeling it off, leaving behind bright red marks that are sometimes painful to look at. It doesn’t make you any less beautiful to her—god, she wished it did—but sometimes she takes pity on those poor lips of yours. And when she was shopping for some mid-week groceries last night, she couldn’t help but toss the chapstick in her cart.
She won’t be thinking too hard about why she did that.
“Really?” You ask, turning the chapstick over between your fingers, biting your lips to hold back a smile.
Emily’s heart trips when you look up at her with a quirk of your brow; she’s usually good at reading you, but right now she can’t tell if you’re amused or exasperated.
“Since you obviously don’t own one,” she quips, sitting down on the edge of your desk. You roll your eyes and run your thumb over the plastic tube, your nail dragging over the white lettering on the side.
Cherry.
Emily definitely didn’t choose that because it’s her favorite, and she most definitely didn’t choose it because she wants to see how that shade of red would look on your lips.
“I do,” you scoff, unthinkingly bringing your other hand to your mouth. Emily grimaces as you start tearing at the skin, insistent on peeling it off.
“Hey, stop that,” she swats at your hand. You frown as your hand drops to your lap. “Put some Vaseline on or something,” she says, her brow creasing at the blood slowly blooming on your lip, “or some of that chapstick you definitely own.”
She looks at you expectantly and you huff. “Smartass.” You mutter as she turns and snatches a tissue from Reid’s desk.
Emily arches her brow as she extends it to you. “Thank you, Emily, for giving me something I so desperately needed. Oh, no problem, it was my pleasure, really—”
You laugh as you take the tissue from her and press it to your bottom lip, wiping away the little smidge of blood.
“Thank you, Emily.” You say sincerely, looking up at her through your lashes. “I really, really appreciate you giving me this lip balm and I promise to use it till it runs out.” You vow, your voice silky smooth, fingers wrapped around the chapstick as you hold it to your heart.
Emily’s heart stumbles once more. Do you know the effect you have on her? Sometimes she thinks you do, with the way you flirt with her, but other times you drip with genuine innocence, your smiles nothing but friendly.
“Whatever,” she murmurs, her booted toe lightly hitting yours. You smile and uncap the lip balm, twisting it to reveal a stick of deep red, almost burgundy.
She almost stops breathing when you turn to the tiny mirror on your desk and start applying it, your lips quickly tinting red, the uneven splotches of recently peeled skin disappearing. You trace it over your skin and smooth your lips together when you’re done, spreading the balm evenly before you turn back to her.
“Good?” You ask as you cap the chapstick and slip it into your pocket. Something in her grows warm at the thought of you carrying it with you. She wonders if it’ll find its way onto your nightstand tonight, if it’ll be hidden in the pocket of one of your blazers tomorrow.
Emily almost laughs at the question. Her eyes drop to your lips, just to check, as if she hadn’t been ogling them while you’ve been turned away. She can still see the edge of the rough skin you were picking at, but it’s mostly hidden beneath the red. She has to tear her eyes from your lips, still ever so perfect.
Kissable.
“Good,” she agrees, inclining her head in a nod. “I sincerely hope you’ll keep using it.” Her voice turns sickly sweet as she smiles, dimples curving in her cheeks. Your eyes brighten at the shift in her tone.
Grinning, you rest your chin on your palm. “Aw, you wanna kiss me that bad, Prentiss?” You tease.
She laughs breathily, the sound a little choked if you listen properly. You have no idea.
“Just don’t want those lips to scare anyone away, hon,” she taps your nose and slides off your desk, grinning when you flip her off.
She settles back into her own desk and looks across at you, her heart warming at the light blush on your cheeks, a similar pink to your lips.
“Screw you, Emily,” you grumble, but you’re not fooling anyone with your poorly hidden smile.
She winks at you. “You’ll thank me later.”
----
It’s possibly the worst mistake she’s ever made.
Ever since she handed you the lip balm, you’ve been diligently applying it. Your lips are no longer cracked or dry; they’re plump and healed, shining with a subtle pink sheen, veering into red from the lip balm.
It goes without saying that work has become infinitely harder. She can’t focus when she sees the imprint of your lips on your coffee mug, a red kiss on the rim after you tip your drink back. When you pull out the chapstick in front of her she goes blank, her eyes zeroing in on the smooth, impossibly softer looking skin of your lips.
It only takes a week before her mind inevitably slips and exposes her.
You’re smoothing your hair in the bathroom when she walks in, also intent on touching up her appearance before delivering the profile. Your gaze slides to her and you smile, those perfect lips of yours turning up at the sight of her.
“Hey,” you say as she approaches, but she’s not listening. You’re turning over the chapstick between your fingers, the sheen on your lips telling her it’s freshly applied.
Emily doesn’t return your greeting. Her gaze drops to your mouth as she steps in close, closer than she realizes.
“Your lips look good,” she says quietly.
Your brows lift and immediately she feels her stomach drop, a flush rising up her cheeks. “Better,” she amends, her words breathless with embarrassment, “they look better. Than before. Not chapped.”
She really should stop talking. Her mouth snaps shut as her cheeks start to flame. She should stop looking at you, she thinks as your gaze drags over her. Your eyes linger on the pink tint of her pale cheeks, her widened eyes, the flush crawling up her jaw. She swallows and your eyes track that, too, making her body heat.
Emily sees the exact moment something shifts in your expression, as if you’ve come to a decision. Absently, you rub your smooth lips together. Absently, her eyes fall to them.
“They look good, huh?” You tilt your head. You take a few steps and close the miniscule distance between you two. Her chest presses into yours; she breathes in sharply.
“You know what, Em?” You murmur, your eyes locked on hers in a way that makes her feel dizzy. “They feel even better.”
Emily’s heart races as you slip the lip balm back into your pocket. When you lean in impossibly closer and place your hand on her cheek, she stops breathing entirely.
“We’ve been playing this game for a while,” you say, your thumb stroking the soft skin of her cheek. She leans her face into your hand, chasing your touch. You smile.
“But it’s not a game, is it, Em?”
God, when you say her name like that. When you say Em and not Emily, when you let the syllables roll around on your tongue, when you say it lazily, carefully, as if you have all the time in the world.
Her hand finds your waist. She smiles a little, through her racing heart. “No,” she agrees softly. “It’s not.”
Your skin is warm through your clothes. She hears the soft hitch in your breath, the way your skin caves beneath her touch.
“Is it okay if I kiss you?”
Emily laughs, soft and a little breathless. “Please,” she twists her fingers into your shirt, feels the material slip against her skin.
When you finally kiss her, she tastes cherries.
*I didn’t expect to write this so quickly after the first one but inspiration struck and I ran with it haha. I hope you enjoyed <33 I’d possibly like to write more for em, so if you’ve got any requests, pop in my inbox and let me know!
#emily prentiss#emily prentiss x reader#emily prentiss imagine#emily prentiss fic#emily prentiss fanfiction#emily prentiss x you#emily prentiss x y/n#emily prentiss fluff#emily prentiss drabble#emily prentiss blurb#criminal minds x you#criminal minds x reader#criminal minds fanfic#criminal minds#divider creds: cafekitsune#emily prentiss fanfic
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Figure It Out
A Criminal Minds Casefic
“All things are subject to interpretation. Whichever interpretation prevails at a given time is a function of power and not truth.” -Friedrich Nietzsche
Summary:
Since you joined the BAU, you have been keeping a terrible secret from the team.
When the team takes a case in your hometown - your festering secret comes to be known with a vengeance.
Fem!Reader x Gen!BAU Team (Platonic). General Casefic, modelled after a Criminal Minds episode. Angst, Mystery, Hurt and Comfort. Set during Criminal Minds Season 3.
Word Count: 18,000
Criminal Minds Masterlist | AO3 Link
Detailed Warnings and author's notes below the cut.
Warnings: this is a general casefic - there is no romantic pairings in this fic, it is more about the mystery of the case and how the reader character fits into it (if this were a real Criminal Minds episode, this would be the episode named after the reader) - with that being said, the main relationship focuses are between Emily and the reader and Spencer and the reader (because I am biased and I love them) but there isn’t any romantic threads or romantic tones, it is all platonic; the reader character uses she/her pronouns and is described as a woman, but I went out of my way to make sure that there is no descriptions of the readers looks or body type; there is use of Y/N and L/N (as in Last Name); mentions of the reader being from Georgia (because the case takes place in her hometown); smoking/cigarettes - mentions of the reader character smoking tobacco; mentions of the reader character being injured (severely in a past incident, and minor injuries during the course of the fic); mentions of vomit/mentions of the reader character throwing up; lots of warnings for general Criminal Minds topics; murder, killing, somewhat graphic descriptions of dead bodies, violence, guns/gun violence, mentions of rape and sexual violence, mentions of systematic violence towards women; there is no graphic depictions of rape/no rape scenes in the fic, but there is mentions of the event of rape happening to certain characters, references to rape culture, and the shame/guilt/self blame a rape victim feels; mentions of stalking/stalking behaviors - including the delusion mindset of a stalker, obsessiveness, sending someone unwanted letters, mentions of a ‘one sided’ relationship; mentions of trauma/PTSD; descriptions of symptoms of PTSD; themes surrounding the cycle of violence; I did kind of purposefully make the warnings a bit more vague than I usually do, because I really don’t want to spoil the plot of this fic. But as lot as you are okay with the maturity of all these themes, you should be okay with this fic!!
A/N: This is pretty much 100% inspired by the music video for Figure It Out by Royal Blood - which the fic is named after. I highly recommend watching the music video, because it is fucking art in my opinion, but I have taken such heavy inspiration from it in terms of the style, tone, and even storyline - so the music video kind of spoils this fic. So probably watch it after you read the fic lmao. I also feel like the instrumental version of the song goes very well with this fic. This fic is not at all typical and I am terrified that people won't like it, or that they won't 'get it'. But I am very proud of it, so I am going to put it out there and hope that people enjoy it. So - please enjoy!! I really love writing Criminal Minds casefics and coming up with the details of a case, and writing it in this style was so, so exciting and interesting for me, and I really do hope that you can enjoy reading it.
...
“All things are subject to interpretation. Whichever interpretation prevails at a given time is a function of power and not truth.”
-Friedrich Nietzsche
...
Thursday, August 16th, 2007.
Madison Police Department, Interrogation Room #1 - Madison, GA. 3:39AM.
The chilled air of the interrogation room only made the regret more palpable in your lungs.
The hum of the fluorescents overhead made you feel like a bug about to be zapped - like your entire life was over and you would soon be resigned to a cage.
You hated it, but you had to wonder what you would have done if you had ten more minutes. Ten more minutes before they had arrived, sirens screeching, lights flashing. Your mind kept replaying the moments over and over again. The knife had felt so perfect in your hand.
Ten more minutes.
“I just want to talk.”
So caught up in your thoughts, your mind so foggy from the hectic night - you had almost forgotten that there was someone sitting in front of you.
He looked so entirely stiff - wearing his cookie cutter suit and his carved-in scowl. He did nothing to shift your mood.
“This is just a conversation. Nothing more.”
He continued on, using a monotone, would-be soothing voice when you didn’t say anything.
The metal chair felt stiffer underneath you, and you felt further suffocated within that small, concrete box.
You felt inclined to call it an interrogation, but you wouldn’t be so quick to tell him that. It’s not like you were going to tell him what he wanted to hear.
“You can smoke in here if that makes you feel more comfortable.” He added on, pushing something from the middle of the table toward you.
A pack of cigarettes and a lighter. There was also an ashtray. A collection of things that someone had put there, knowing that you would be resigned to this tiny, tiny room.
“You don’t have to treat me with kid gloves, Hotch.” You huffed, saying his name, using the same technique that he would likely be using on you. You could mirror him, get ahead on the mind games. “I’m not as crazy and detached from reality as you think I am.”
Perhaps that was a false statement. You weren’t even sure how crazy he thought you were. Perhaps, that in itself made you detached from reality. You couldn’t be sure.
Nonetheless, you took him up on the offer. You reached out and eagerly picked up the pack of smokes, ripping off the outer plastic before you took one out, shoving the tip between your lips and lighting it up.
You took a heavy draw, and the nicotine throbbed through you. Seemingly adding to the headache you already had from the large gash on your forehead that they had hastily bandaged before bringing you in here, rather than relieving it. Still, you sucked on the cigarette like it was your only lifeline - taking a moment to tap some of the ash into the small ashtray while you stared at Hotch carefully.
You wondered if you should really tell him all the gory details.
“Just tell me what happened. Tell me your side of the story.” Hotch said, trying his best to sound warm and convincing. It didn’t work. “I’m just trying to figure it out. Just like you are.”
Perhaps your biggest regret was that you were here, cooped up in this hole - and he was in the hospital somewhere, laying in a soft bed, being attended to by nurses, being comforted. The fact that he was still breathing - even with the assistance of a tube down his throat, and not in a body bag.
“You’ll never look at me the same if I do tell you.” You managed to find these words, and these words only. Ominous, almost threatening - more so than you intended.
“I won’t.” He returned. Shallow, fallible.
Suddenly, a crash from the hallway broke the tense silence that was brewing between the two of you. The door was thick, but it wasn’t enough to disguise the ruckus coming from outside.
“No! No! You have to let me through! I have to be in there!”
The voice was familiar, but that tone of desperation certainly was not.
“Reid, he specifically told us to sit this one out-”
“Sit this one out?!” Reid repeated the words back, his voice warping with pure shock, the inability to conceptualize such a thing. “You expect me to just sit out?” He scoffed. “If it wasn’t for me, two more people would be dead, and there wouldn’t even be a ‘this one’! Now let. Me. Through.”
“Reid-”
With all his bolstering stubbornness, he shoved past whoever had been trying to stop him, and as you took another heavy puff off your cigarette, the interrogation room door came flying open.
Hotch stood up, rushing to block the door, but you smiled. Though you were numb from the day’s events - it was your natural instinct upon seeing him.
“Reid-” Hotch choked out, trying to block the gangly man from even entering the room.
“Good evening, Doctor Reid.” You greeted him gently.
Upon seeing your reaction - so much more open and warm - Hotch allowed him in. This was the wedge that he needed to pry you open. Reid closed the door behind himself with an indigent huff and a glare toward his superior.
Reid crossed his arms, hovering near the door as he turned his stiff-jawed glare toward you now. Your cigarette turned to a hot cherry in your hands - sucked to death already, and you stubbed it out in the tray before starting a new one. You knew chain-smoking was an even filthier habit than the occasional ciggy, but you had one hell of a day under your belt. If there was ever a time, it was now.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” Reid asked, his voice stiff and oppositional.
“Oh, so many things.” You said, your tone clever and unphased. Hotch let out a sigh as he sat back down in his chair. He was glad that you were talking openly now, at least. “Shall we go in alphabetical order, or start at my birth and work or way back from there?”
Reid let out another nasal thick sound. Apparently, he wasn’t in the mood for banter.
You were met with nothing but a stony wall of silence, and cold glares of disapproval. It almost made you feel guilty. Almost.
“Let’s start with this,” Reid corrected you. “Why?”
Truthfully, you couldn’t give him that answer. You didn’t think you would ever have enough time to conjure it up within yourself.
“You’re the genius profiler, Doctor Reid.” You fired back coldly. “You tell me.”
…
Thursday, August 16th, 2007.
Abandoned Country House - Madison, GA. 2:20AM.
Prentiss led the team as they searched through the house. It was the only solid lead they had as to where you might be. It was a house that your parents used to own - a place of significance because you had lived there the summer when it first happened.
“Clear!”
She went through the living room, the kitchen, the entire first floor, leading the team with Reid at her side, guns drawn.
“Clear!”
As she crested the top of the stairs, she heard sobbing.
It was distinct - something that tugged harshly on her heartstrings.
Even though it was against protocol not to clear the rooms in order, she rushed toward it. Reid continued to flank her - obviously he had heard the noise too.
Prentiss landed a sharp kick on the door’s handle, causing it to fling open.
The picture on display in front of her almost caused her to drop her gun.
Hotch had been right.
You were on top of the man, straddling him. Both you and the man were badly beaten - but right off the bat, Prentiss could tell that he was far worse off. Clearly, you had bested him in the fight this time.
The contents of the room strewn about; broken glass, busted furniture, the curtain rod torn down. It looked like the remnants of a bad WWE brawl. You were the picture of desperation - heavy, hot tears coming from your eyes, blood smearing down your face from a gash on your forehead as you stared down the man beneath you with fiery madness in your eyes.
You had a knife to his throat. A large hunting knife - the same kind that all the other victims had been stabbed with.
You had the tip of it poised to his throat, just barely touching his skin. If you put any amount of pressure on the blade - if you bared down, then you would slice right through his esophagus. It would take almost no effort from you at all to end his life.
From what Prentiss could see, the man was unconscious. He was completely slack, his body still on the ground. He was bleeding from a small head wound. His life was entirely in your hands. He couldn’t fight back.
Both your hands shook vigorously as you struggled with the warring inside of you, as you struggled with the weight of the confrontation with your life’s biggest monster.
Though it went against everything inside of her, Emily kept her gun raised. She kept her arms stiff, keeping her gun pointed at you. As much as she detested that man, knowing what he had done - it was her job to shoot you if you tried to kill him. Right now, she hated that job.
“Put the knife down!” Prentiss ordered sharply.
You didn’t move.
Naturally, Reid, in all of his softness and empathy, slackened his arms and holstered his gun before anyone could blink.
“Come on, put it down.” She tried again.
You ignored Prentiss entirely, your hands still shaking, making no moves to lift the knife away from the man’s throat.
Reid moved to step into the room, and from his view at the top of the stairs, arms stiff and gun pointed in your general direction - Hotch called out to him.
“Reid-!” He tried to warn Reid against doing this. Of course, he didn’t listen.
Reid knelt down beside you, posturing in surrender with his arms. Of course, he wasn’t even on your radar at the moment. Your entire gaze, your entire focus was on the unconscious man underneath you - the true target of your agony.
“Y/N,” Reid said your name calmly, trying to capture your attention. “You don’t have to do this.”
You hesitated for a moment, and Prentiss worried that even his gentle voice wouldn’t be able to get through to you.
“I have to.” You sobbed out. More heavy tears slid down your face, and you began to shake more visibly, shockwaves moving throughout your entire body.
“You don’t have to.” Reid told you, his voice calming, gentle. “You - you can give me the knife, and then we can just… walk away. And then it all ends.”
“It won’t just end!” You screamed out, your voice a curtling weep that bounced off the walls.
It made Prentiss’ heart jump inside of her chest. If it wasn’t protocol, she would have dropped her gun and run over to comfort you with a hug. But she knew that you weren’t in the most stable place. You might have tried to stab her with the knife.
“It can end.” Reid assured you calmly. “You just have to come with me. You just have to put the knife down and-”
“I have to make it stop!” You screamed, trampling over his quiet voice. “I killed those women. I killed them!”
“Prentiss!” Hotch edged in, warning her.
If you didn’t move off of the unconscious man soon, then she would have to take you down.
“Just give him a minute!” Prentiss fired back. She had faith in Reid.
“We both know that’s not true.” Reid told you. “You didn’t kill them. You didn’t mean for this to happen-”
“He killed them because of me!” You shouted, cutting him off. “We both know it’s my fault.”
“It’s not.” Reid choked out. “Please don’t say that.”
There was a gutting silence.
“Please, just give me the knife.”
At this point he was doing some pleading of his own - but your hands were unsteady and you still refused to look at him.
You weren’t going to give up the fight that easily.
…
Thursday, August 16th, 2007.
Somewhere On The Country Backroads - Madison, GA. 2:11AM.
“I want two squad cars down the road, I want state police cutting off all the possible exits to the major highways.” Agent Hotchner was on the scene, doing what he did best - giving orders. “I want to cut off any chance of possible escape incase the suspect tries to flee-”
“Hotch, do you really think that’s necessary?” Morgan asked. “We’ve got the house. Thermal cam’s got two bodies on the second floor. There’s nowhere to run from here. We’ve got spike strips on all the dirt roads. No car is getting past any of that. It should function as a hard extraction from here.”
Hotch glared at Morgan as he fastened the straps on his bulletproof vest. The glare of the red and blue lights from the squad cars only made the deep frown lines on his face look firmer.
“I am not taking any chances.” Hotch said. “We both know this is an incredibly delicate matter. We found one of the victims across state lines. We know this suspect has mobility. I’m not risking finding another body.”
The air became tense as everyone realized what he meant by ‘another body’.
“I want tactical swat to go in first-” Hotch began, and was quickly cut off by Morgan.
“You’re sending in swat when there’s a hostage in there?” Morgan questioned harshly.
“Even if we go in there blazing, showing force, she might not come in quietly.” Hotch explained.
“You’re serious?” Prentiss replied, hooking the wire of her earpiece around her ear in order to tuck the mic in. “She’s the one you’re worried about? She’s a victim in all this.”
“You saw the incident report.” Hotch reminded her. “The amount of defensive wounds she had… the first time he attacked her, she fought back hard. She’s desperate, she’s feeling cornered, she-”
“She’s terrified right now.” Prentiss pressed harshly. “She doesn’t need a bunch of men going in there waving guns in her face.”
“She could sacrifice him.” Hotch theorized, further trying to prove his point. “This could be her chance to finally get justice. Finally getting rid of the man who’s tormented her for all these years.”
“So we have to bring them both in. Quietly.” Morgan said. “We can’t just go in there shooting. If your theory is correct, then she could use him as a human shield.”
Hotch nodded. “Fine. No tactical swat. Prentiss, you take the lead.”
“Yeah, and I’m taking Reid with me.” Prentiss told him sharply. “Somebody with a little compassion around here.”
Prentiss nodded and scoffed, walking past Hotch, gently whispering ‘what the hell is wrong with you’ on her way to get in the car with Reid.
…
Thursday, August 16th, 2007.
Madison Police Department - Madison, GA. 1:45AM.
When JJ let out a harsh sigh, Emily turned to her, swiveling in the borrowed office chair with a creak.
“What is it?” Emily asked.
“Don’t you feel that?” JJ replied. Emily shrugged, waiting a moment for her to finish the thought. “That… overwhelming feeling of dread?”
Of course, it was obvious. No leads. No breaks in the case.
It was hopeless.
“Come on, I thought you were the hopeful one.” Rossi pointed out, tossing his empty paper coffee cup into a nearby trash can.
“How can I be hopeful when one of my best friends is caught up in all this?” JJ fired back. “If she-”
Before she could finish that thought, Reid stormed in, capturing everyone’s attention.
“Guys, I think we got the profile all wrong.” He announced, a look of worry knit into his features. “And - if I’m right, then I think I know where she is.”
…
Thursday, August 16th, 2007.
Abandoned Country House - Madison, GA. 1:45AM.
You knew that it was cruel, but you couldn’t help but to enjoy his groans of pain.
There had been so many others - so many monsters to take down. So many men that you had gotten rid of without a second thought. Men you had put bullets in that didn’t mean as much to you as this. So many others you had easily forgotten about. But he had taunted your soul in a special way. And you knew that you were enjoying this too much.
“Tell me you like it!”
You screamed, taking another downward swing with the piece of wood - a leg broken off from the chair he had bound you to. He had been convinced that you wouldn’t break free. Laughable. He should have known better.
When he didn’t respond, you took another swing.
You could have stopped. You could have ended it. But you didn’t.
“Come on, tell me you like it!”
You screamed in his face, sputtering blood across him. At one point, he had punched you in the mouth. You weren’t exactly sure where the blood was coming from. You didn’t exactly care.
That would be your excuse.
He had hit you too. You were battered. You were just a fragile woman, after all.
“You’re a fuckin’ crazy bitch.” He coughed, sputtering out some blood himself. “I… I always liked that about you. It was one of the reasons I fell in love.”
He grinned - bright red spread out across his teeth, and it gave you the intense desire to see those teeth missing. To make him swallow them.
“You don’t love me.” You told him firmly. “You just get an adrenaline rush from being around me because I’m not afraid of you.” You explained. “Unlike the other whores, I fight.”
While you were preoccupied with the words, he flipped onto his stomach and began crawling across the floor.
He thought you were too stupid to notice, but he was inching his way toward the hunting knife that had been thrown out of his hand during the scuffle. It was a slow, sluggish crawl. You had broken a few of his ribs, his kneecap. It was nice to see him so slow. You had probably severely damaged his internal organs with how hard you had been beating him with the makeshift baton.
It was worse than last time. You stood above him like a menace - watching and waiting. You hated that you knew you would take an odd kind of joy in removing his hope when you stole the knife from his grip.
Just as he grazed his fingers across it, you brought another harsh swing down across his achilles tendon, causing him to scream out in pain.
You still had a lot of strength left in you. He was tiring out.
He was losing the game.
“Come on baby, tell me how you like it.” You continued to mock him. “Tell me how good I am.”
“Fuck you.” He moaned out.
You felt satisfaction bloom inside of you - those were the words.
He had finally given up hope. He had finally realized that maybe: he wasn’t going to beat you. Maybe he wasn’t above you on the playing field anymore. He was fucking around with a fellow predator, not toying with his prey.
“Oh baby. You know I’m only doing this because I love you.” You said, repeating his own words back to him in a cruel mockery.
That was when he realized: this wasn’t just a lover’s spat. This was a culling.
…
Thursday, August 16th, 2007.
Just Outside of Madison Police Department - Madison, GA. 1:04AM.
Reid needed some air.
Working on the case so diligently, not coming up with any leads. It was intensely difficult. Letting the balmy summer Southern air flow over him, getting a good gulp of the fresh air into his lungs - it was a bit more awakening than drinking his sixth cup of coffee for that day.
He was surprised when he rounded a corner, trying to go for a short walk to stretch his legs, and he saw a very recognizable face hovering near a gray Honda.
“Mrs. L/N?” He posed, approaching her gently. “It’s late. What are you doing here?”
JJ had promised to call her if there were any updates. Reid didn’t want to disappoint her by telling her that there were none.
“It’s Miss L/N.” She said quietly. “I never married.”
Reid nodded at this. “My apologies.”
She looked deeply troubled.
Reid waited patiently for her to reply to his initial question - for her to tell him whatever was burdening her. If he was lucky, it could help with the case. It was always the families who could help put those final puzzle pieces into place. That was something Gideon taught him, so he took it as sacred advice.
“You’re Doctor Reid, aren’t you?” She posed, stepping forward to approach him slightly - still stiff, still stand-off-ish. He easily understood why. He nodded in response. “My daughter speaks very fondly of you.”
Reid cracked a small smile at this.
His attention was then brought to a small box - a shoe box as she held it out to him.
“I don’t mean to bother you at this late hour, but… you said to let you know if I thought of anything that might help you.” She reminded him. He nodded again. “And I - well, the reason I didn’t bring these up the first time… you can understand that I have a need to protect my daughter?”
“Of course.” He affirmed. “It’s every parent’s natural instinct to protect their child.”
She looked solemn at his words.
“I had no idea that… that what happened to her could potentially be connected to these… these murders in any possible way.” She told him, shuddering as the word passed through her lips. “I was just trying to shield her, you have to understand.”
She handed him the shoebox, and when he took it and lifted off the lid, it took him only a moment to understand. He would need to find a quiet place to fully inspect the contents, but it was all being pieced together in his mind now.
“Thank you for bringing me this.” He told her quietly.
“Doctor Reid, you have to promise me that you’ll bring my daughter home unharmed.” She said, tears coming to her eyes. “She’s a good girl. Please, just bring her home.”
Unfortunately, he couldn’t promise her that. Not under the circumstances.
“Ma’am… I will try my best. That is all I can promise you.” He told her.
She nodded in quiet understanding before Reid turned and marched back inside.
…
Wednesday, August 15th, 2007.
Abandoned Country House - Madison, GA. 11:03PM.
The flint of the lighter flicking seemed to be the loudest thing in the room in that moment - even with the low hum of the eleven o’clock news playing in the background.
It was so odd. Everything was exactly like you remembered it. Withered - but the same.
Even the chair you were sitting in. The old wooden chair that had been lugged up from the kitchen, one that you used to sit in for hours and do homework - it was rickety, but somehow the same.
You took a sharp drag off the cigarette after it was lit for you, continuing to listen to the feminine voice on the radio as the news played.
“I’m Special Agent Jennifer Jareau, and I’m speaking on behalf of the Madison Police Department. Tonight, we are making an urgent appeal to the public for information. Earlier this evening, a woman went missing in the area of-”
“I never took you for a smoker.” He said, his voice sharp and confident in the words.
You tapped your cigarette into the ashtray with your free hand before raising it up to your lips to take another drag. Right now, the smoke heavy in your lungs was the only thing keeping you sane.
“I never smelled it on you back then.” He added on when you didn’t respond to him. “Bitches who smoke always smell like dirtbags. You just… smelled nice.”
“I didn’t smoke back then.” You quietly replied.
He had driven you to take up the habit.
You took another drag of your cigarette - you wanted to enjoy it. The longer you could drag it out, literally, the longer you could delay the inevitable.
“-The suspect was last seen driving a blue and white, 1970s Ford truck. If you see the vehicle, please-”
“They’re lookin’ for ya.” He said casually, nodding toward the radio.
You wished they weren’t.
You directed the conversation elsewhere.
“Tell me how this is gonna end.” You urged him quietly, ashing your cigarette again.
“You and I both know… this was only ever gonna end one way.” He told you, his voice irritably cocky.
He had you now. He had won.
“-We believe that this abduction is connected to a string of recent murders in the area. It is critical that if you have any information, you call our tip line at-”
He rose from his spot then, and turned off the radio.
The silence was gutting.
He moved toward the door, but you abruptly caught his attention.
“Remember,” You told him. “You made me a promise.” You said quietly. “No more. No more girls.”
He chuckled at this. “Of course, darlin’. No more.”
It felt like a lie.
“But only because I love you.” He gave a filthy grin along with these words, and your insides shuddered.
You knew that he wasn’t actually capable of love. You had known that from the moment you first laid eyes on him.
You didn’t bother to muster any words in return.
He crossed the room back toward you and leaned down, planting a kiss on your forehead. Your body stiffened, entirely stony toward it. It was selfish on his part - loving on you like a doll, rather than trying to bring you any comfort.
He moved back to the door silently.
You worried about what would happen the moment he went out the door. He turned to you just before he left.
“Don’t run off now.” He said with a wink. Ego. Sarcasm.
“Where am I gonna go, Dan?” You sighed.
You lifted your tethered hand up to drive the point home, and the clink of handcuffs was now apparent in the otherwise silent room.
He shut the door with a chuckle. You put out your cigarette in the ashtray, reaching for the loose spoke in the back of the chair. This was a chair that you used to sit in for hours while studying. That loose spoke used to bug you all the time.
It came free after only a few tugs.
…
Wednesday, August 15th, 2007.
QuitTrip (Corner Store) - Madison, GA. 10:24PM.
The previously dark parking lot of the secluded, back country convenience store was now entirely lit up with red and blue. Four police cars had crowded into the area, surrounding the place where you had last been seen.
Inside, under the harsh white fluorescent lights of the store, Hotchner and Prentiss were interviewing the store clerk - a young man who had supposedly been the last person to speak to you before the abduction.
“So, you’re sure that you didn’t see anything?” Hotch pressed the young man - someone who seemed so entirely nervous under his harsh, unmoving gaze.
“I swear, man, I didn’t see anything.” He said, his voice cracking slightly as he spoke. “She was parked in the back of the parking lot, and once you walk around the corner, there’s no way to see someone through the doors. It’s like - like a total blind spot, man.”
“The UnSub had to have known that.” Hotch noted quietly, turning to Prentiss. “He approached her knowing that he wouldn’t be seen.”
“Do you think he was waiting out there?” Prentiss wondered aloud.
Then she turned back to the clerk.
“Was there a man in here before she came in? He would have been in his 30s. Very cold, he wouldn’t have said anything. Just paid quietly and left. He might not have even bought anything - he might have just walked around, checking the blind spots. And if you asked him what he was looking for, he would have given you a glare rather than speaking. This man is not sociable. He’s very distant. He likely wouldn’t have looked you in the eye.”
The clerk shook his head.
“No, nobody like that.” He explained. “That lady - she was my first customer in, like, hours. She just bought her ciggies and left. And I thought it was weird cause she bought a lighter too. Most smokers already have a lighter on them.”
“I didn’t know Y/N smoked.” Prentiss said quietly.
“Me either.” Hotch confirmed.
Hotch’s attention was captured by a screen behind the counter - surveillance feed, showing several different places inside the store. There was one camera just outside the door. If he wasn’t mistaken, that camera was pointed at that ‘blind spot’ in the parking lot.
Without asking permission, he raised the partition and walked around the counter, his eyes hyper-focused on the screen.
“Can you get me this footage from a few hours ago?” He prompted toward the clerk. “The view of the parking lot. We need to see what L/N did after she left the store.”
The clerk nodded and began typing things onto the keyboard, and Hotch prompted him to stop when he saw you appear on the footage. Prentiss came around the counter as well, leaving the three of them crowded in close to the small screen as they watched the past version of you.
You walked across the parking lot - toward your car, a cigarette hanging out of your mouth. You were making determined steps - until something stopped you.
“The UnSub caught her attention.” Prentiss noted.
Then - something entirely strange happened. While staring at the man off screen, you leaned against your car, and began ashing your cigarette, as if chatting idly with him.
“He’s not using force.” Hotch thought aloud. “Do you think he’s got a gun trained on her?”
“Maybe.” Prentiss hummed quietly.
He was out of the frame, so it was only a guess.
Then, after a few moments of this - you simply walked off. You walked in the direction he had been standing.
“Did - did she just go with him willingly?” Prentiss gaped, entirely in shock.
When she glanced over her shoulder, Hotch was gone.
He stormed out into the parking lot, frantically gazing around. Prentiss followed him, chasing his chaotic energy.
“Hotch!” She called out. “Hotch-!”
“We need more camera angles! We need-”
“Calm down.” She urged, grabbing him by the shoulders.
“It just doesn’t make any sense.” He rasped. “Why would she go with him willingly? Why - why? Why would she?” He was frantic. “He must have threatened her. He must have-”
They both didn’t want to think of the obvious.
That you didn’t fear him. That - it hadn’t even been an abduction.
“He must have threatened her.” Prentiss easily agreed. “She wouldn’t have gone with him otherwise.”
They didn’t bring up the fact that you had a gun and plenty of training on how to use it. They didn’t bring up the fact that the profile said the UnSub couldn’t easily charm - he would have kidnapped you by force.
Unless you were special. Unless he thought he could talk to you specifically for some reason.
“Guys, what’s the news?” JJ asked, finally walking onto the scene.
She hated the grave looks on Prentiss and Hotch’s faces.
“I want you to put a press conference together.” Hotch said, straightening himself out and turning to her. “Make an appeal for witnesses. Tell them that there’s been a woman abducted in the area, but don’t tell them that L/N a Federal Agent. It could set the UnSub off if he believes that this abduction is being treated with a higher priority. If he feels a higher pressure from law enforcement, he might-”
“Right.” JJ nodded. Hotch didn’t need to say the words in order for her to understand. “So: release her name and her photo, but act like she’s just a regular civilian?”
Hotch nodded. “Exactly.”
“If I get going now, I think I could still make the eleven o’clock news.” JJ said, rushing off with her cell pressed to her ear.
“Let’s just hope that it brings Y/N home safely.”
…
Wednesday, August 15th, 2007.
QuitTrip (Corner Store) - Madison, GA. 8:03PM.
You felt an odd amount of relief having nicotine in your system again.
This was the first time you had smoked a cigarette in years. You had quit the habit shortly after you joined the FBI Academy when one of your advisers warned you that it might cause you to fail the fitness test. And you felt like you should just knock the habit, seeing as the only reason you had taken it up was because of… him.
But - all of this was so triggering. Being back in your same small shitty town. Feeling it suffocating you like a plastic bag.
The murders.
You sucked on the cigarette for dear life as you walked back to your car, and just as you were about to get in - the windows of the car open, inviting in the sweet summer air, the keys still inside because you did feel an odd amount of trust in your hometown - something captured your attention.
“Y/N.”
Hearing your name in that voice made you freeze on the spot. The warm breeze felt like ice against your skin as you took your hand off the door handle, turning toward him.
“You’re lookin’ gorgeous as ever, darlin’.”
“You.” You ground out the word with as much disdain as possible, hot rage boiling in your blood as you looked at him. “I should have known it was you.”
He let out a sharp chuckle - a sound that made your throat tighten up. He flicked his tongue out across his teeth, grinning his terrible Cheshire grin at you.
A hand instinctively went for your gun, and your palm hit an empty section of your belt. He let out another sharp chuckle when his eyes followed yours, making the same realization that you did.
You had left it sitting on the passenger’s seat of the car. Right beside your phone.
You wondered if you could dive through the open window before he could get to you. When he made a posturing move, brushing his unbuttoned plaid shirt away and revealing the gun he had strapped to his belt underneath - you realized he would shoot you if you moved too quickly.
You were stuck.
“Of course it’s me, baby.” He said, casually replying to your earlier words. “You had to know that I did all this for you. For us.”
Giving into your fate, you propped yourself against the side of the car - trying desperately to steady your wobbling legs without making it look like you were doing so. You tapped your cigarette, spilling some of the ash before you brought it to your lips once again.
“I missed you like hell.” He told you with a snakeskin grin.
“I didn’t miss you.” You bitterly fired back. “Not for a fucking second.”
“Guess I made it difficult to miss me, huh?” He said, cocky as ever. “With my frequent correspondence and all?”
“You know what I meant.” You fired back.
You glared at him sharply but didn’t say anything more, afraid that he would whip the gun out and shoot you.
He sucked in a breath through his teeth, something that sounded utterly sarcastic.
“Ooh, darlin’ that’s harsh.” He said. “That would almost hurt. If I didn’t know the truth.”
You wanted to argue. You took in another large drag to help hold your tongue. You knew the results of arguing with him - it wasn’t worth it.
“So… I think you know how this goes.” He announced. “You can come with me now. Or… I can go get another girl.”
“No more girls.” You told him. “I’m here now. You won. Whatever business you have - it’s with me.”
You stamped out your cigarette as you walked toward him, and your phone began to ring on the front seat as his truck rumbled to life and pulled out of the parking lot.
…
Wednesday, August 15th, 2007.
Madison Police Department - Madison, GA. 7:26PM.
“Hello! Everyone, listen up.” Hotch called everyone to attention as the local police continued to filter in, most of them standing around with cups of coffee in hand or notebooks out, ready to take notes. “We’re ready to give the profile.”
“Yes, and please keep in mind that this is just a general set of guidelines describing the suspect.” Rossi said. “This is not a concrete list of things you should be looking for. A profile is more useful in the elimination of suspects, rather than the inclusion of them.”
He then turned to Derek, who began reciting the profile that the team had put together so far.
“This UnSub, or Unknown Subject, is most likely a white male in his thirties to forties.” Morgan explained. “He drives an American made vehicle, something large enough to conceal and transport victims, and something that has off-road capability in order to get to the more secluded areas where some of the bodies were found. So think trucks, heavy duty vans, anything with thick treads on the tires and a large payload. And his vehicle will most likely be in a more discreet color. This guy won’t be driving around in something flashy. He’ll be in something that blends into the background, like a beige or black truck.”
“So what?” One of the local cops piped up. “We put out an APB for every single heavy duty black truck in the area? This is the south, do you have any idea how many people around here drive a truck? Especially ones driven by men in their forties.”
“There’s more.” Hotch noted, looking toward you.
“This UnSub likely believes that he is dating these women in some capacity before he kills them.” You explained. “He has left scraps of poetry at the scenes, pages of romance novels - several of the victims had wine in their stomachs or burns from candle wax on their skin. And it’s highly likely that he turns violent when the women reject his advances, or don’t live up to the fictionalized relationship he has made up about them in his mind.”
“How does that help us?” Someone asked.
“Well, it’s very likely that he frequents the same hunting grounds.” Rossi explained. “We encourage you to go to local bars, and nightclubs, even gyms or cafes and pass out the profile to women who fit this type.” He said, motioning toward the pictures of the other victims. “He will be on the hunt again soon, and he has a very narrow hunting ground, living in such a lowly populated area. So we might be able to catch him off guard if his potential victims have the profile as well.”
“This man is romantic, but he’s not charming.” You added on. “He isn’t sociable. He’s very cocky, very self-centered. He believes that he is God’s gift to women, and he has a very fractured sense of reality in general. If women reject him in everyday interactions, he will get noticeably irritated, and even violent. So he will be remembered as an unpleasant person in most women’s stories.”
“This UnSub most likely has an inside knowledge of law enforcement.” Reid stated. “But, because he has a very antisocial personality, he wouldn’t do well working with the public. We currently have our analyst combing through files of those who flunked out of the police academy or live in the area and are retired from the military in some capacity. We believe that he might have even been in prison for an unrelated crime or institutionalized at some point, giving him a close look at the inner workings of law enforcement, and also attributing to the large break between the first two crimes.”
Reid took a breath, and then continued on.
“He was knowledgeable enough to purposefully dump one of the bodies across state lines in order to get the FBI involved in this case, but it was just one of the bodies, and it was dumped in a very well trackied area where it would be found. So that leaves a heavy insistence that he was fed-up with the local police not giving his case enough attention or - simply not being smart enough to keep up with him.” He explained.
“He is very cocky.” Prentiss added on. “Incredibly over-confident. He is a narcissist to his core, and he believes that he will never be caught unless he wants to be. He thinks that he has an intricate cat-and-mouse game with law enforcement, and he can go off the grid and disappear at any time that he wants.”
“Well… isn’t that true?” One of the cops asked. “I mean, the guy’s been at it for years and we still haven’t caught him. There’s no DNA, no real leads.”
Hotch hummed, nodding. And then he walked over to the evidence board and motioned to the pictures of the two most recent victims - barely recognizable compared to the shining, smiling photos their families had provided.
“We believe that he’s decompensating.” Hotch explained. “He is growing more violent toward each victim, which means that he is getting more sloppy - eventually, he will go off-book. He will break his routine in some way, and that will be the moment he’ll give us something to catch him with.”
“So… you’re just waiting for him to kill again so you can actually catch the guy?” Someone asked sharply.
“No.” You easily replied. “We’re praying it doesn’t come to that.”
“Thank you everyone.” Hotch said, clearing his throat, giving an unconscious signal for everyone to disperse. “That’ll be all for now.”
Everyone easily fell under his authority, and meandered back to what they had been doing before, now armed with the profile and ready to distribute it to members of the public, to the potential victims.
You had a harshly, sickly feeling in your stomach as you gathered some of your files. It was the same feeling that had been turning your guts into knots since you had arrived back in Madison for the first time in years. Your eye accidentally caught the evidence board - the tall, intimidating wall lined with the gruesome photos of all the women.
Women who looked strangely like you. Same hair color, same skin tone, same body type. All of them horribly brutalized and left for dead. All of them terrorized, tortured right up until their last moments.
“Hey.”
JJ’s voice snapped you out of your swirling dark cloud of thoughts, drawing your eyes away from the evidence board with a gentle hand on your upper arm. You huffed out a harsh breath as you let her guide you, turning around to face the blonde woman as she stared you down with a distinct look of concern knit across her features.
“Are you okay?” She asked. “I’ve never seen you like this.”
She had a point. You had been doing this job for some time. You had gone to the FBI Academy straight out of college, after getting a degree in criminal forensics. And none of it ever bothered you. You had learned about the study of blood spatter and the decomposition of bodies on live body farms, and you never flinched.
But this case - it was getting to you.
It was likely the first time anybody on the team had ever seen you so disturbed.
“I’m fine.” You lied, trying to shrug off her touch.
“Come on.” JJ sighed in return. “I don’t need to be a profiler to figure out that was a big fat lie.”
You rolled your eyes at this.
“You’re so brilliant.” You let out a sigh of your own, and put down your files on the nearby conference room table. You stretched out your back, deciding that you would give her an inch, hoping that she wouldn’t take a mile. “I’m freaked out. So what? Doesn’t everybody have room for a bad day?”
“Of course.” She nodded. “Of course, you can have a bad day.” Her lips pursed, and you knew there was more coming. “Is - is it anything more than that?”
“I’m tired.” You lied again, hoping she wouldn’t call you out on it this time. “It’s been - what? More than twenty hours since we landed. For these guys it’s been years, searching for this bastard. I wanna catch him.”
“We will.” JJ assured you, sounding rather dull in her declaration.
“I’m gonna drive down the street and grab an energy drink or something.” You announced, grabbing your blazer off a nearby chair and putting it on. Not that you would need a jacket with the southern weather - but your cash and your keys were in the pockets.
“I thought you quit Redbull.” She chuckled.
“It’s been one of those days.” You replied, shaking your head as you walked out of the room.
…
Wednesday, August 15th, 2007.
Madison Police Department - Madison, GA. 5:13PM.
“There’s still one thing that’s buggin’ the hell out of me.” Morgan announced as he walked back into the room with a fresh cup of coffee in hand.
“That is?” You posed, looking up from the stack of personal files - potential suspects - that you were reading in order to engage him in the conversation.
“What is with the two year hiatus from this guy?” He said, motioning to the board.
The first victim had been abducted and killed all the way back in the summer of ‘99, but none of the other victims matched up until a missing person from September of 2001. And from there, the killings picked up in frequency - and the killer had taken over twenty six victims in and around Madison up until now.
“It is weird.” You commented. “Usually after the first kill is when an UnSub is the most hungry for more. After that first taste for violence.”
Morgan raised a brow at your strange choice of words and you shrugged it off.
“Maybe he was hospitalized.” Reid said, appearing seemingly out of nowhere to make this comment, studying the board with his own intense expression. “Institutionalized? Maybe he was arrested for something completely unrelated, like - drugs, outstanding traffic violations?”
“That’s helpful.” You sighed.
“It could be.” Reid replied, sipping his own coffee. “I mean, we theorized that this UnSub has pre-existing knowledge of law enforcement - if he was in prison, maybe he was reading up on the law while he was in there? Who has closer knowledge of the law than ex-cons?”
“Good point.” Morgan nodded. “I’ll call Garcia and have her widen the search.”
“She is gonna love that.” You mumbled under your breath, already frustrated with the large pile of potential suspects you had to go through.
Morgan took out his cell and walked into the other room, and you heard a distant ‘hey mama!’ as he chirped to Garcia on the other end.
Then, you heard another voice that was all too familiar to you.
“See, you’ve all just been working so hard, I thought you could use some sustenance!”
It was your mother.
You rushed out of your seat to find her in the middle of the bullpen, handing out muffins from a large basket that she had in her hand.
It wasn’t entirely surprising to you, but it made your stomach sink. She was too much of a social butterfly for your liking. She knew about the last time you had been in this police station, she talked too much. No. You couldn’t risk her telling anyone.
“See, that one’s blueberry, you like blueberry?” She was chatting idly, being her usual overly social self.
“Yes, thank you so much Ms. L/N,” Prentiss smiled as your mother pushed more food into her hands.
“Oh please, call me-”
You knew that you must have looked like a storm, walking toward her with a scowl on your face.
“Ma!” You barked, much harsher than you meant to, causing her to look up at you abruptly. “Ma? What are you doing here?”
“Well see, you’ve been here all day, and you’ve been working so hard, so I made dinner for you and your friends,” She grinned, motioning toward a large tinfoil tray filled with mac and cheese that she had placed onto one of the desks next to a stack of paper plates and plastic forks. Naturally, a chunk of it was already missing.
You wanted to scream when Reid walked over and began scooping out a portion for himself.
“Ma, they’re not my friends, they’re my co-workers.” You said, exasperation ripe in your voice.
You knew that this, too, ended up sounding much harsher than you had intended. As if you didn’t think of these people as friends. But you couldn’t stand the woman babying you. It’s not like she did much of that when you were an actual baby.
“I’m an adult now, and-” You continued on, and she cut you off.
“Oh yes, yes.” She nodded, reaching out to pinch your cheek in an utterly frustrating way. “Your co-workers.”
“Please, Ma.” You sighed. “You can’t be here right now. This is a police station, not a bake sale.”
“She can stay for a few minutes, can’t she?” Prentiss grinned, peeling the wrapper off her muffin. “We can take a break for dinner. I wanna hear some childhood stories about you.”
Reid looked up eagerly at this, and you glared at both of them.
“Oh, you should hear about the time she painted her face blue with the paint from-” Your mother began to tell a delightful embarrassing story, but you cut her off.
“No.” You said sharply. “I’m sorry, but we have work to do. Important work. Once we actually catch the guy, I’ll bring everyone by the house for tea and cookies and you can show everyone my naked baby pictures, the whole nine yards. Just - not now.”
You unceremoniously ripped the basket of muffins out of her hands and placed them on the desk beside the tray of mac and cheese, and she began to argue with you, calling you rude, telling you that she had raised you with better manners while you ushered her out the door.
Prentiss and Reid exchanged a particular, concerned look as they watched you and your mother argue through the glass doors of the precinct.
“Now what do you think that was all about?” Emily asked quietly.
“For once, I have no idea.” Spencer mumbled in return.
…
Wednesday, August 15th, 2007.
Georgia Highway 72 - Madison, GA. 1:32PM.
“This is new.” Morgan noted as the two of you walked away from the SVU, approaching the dumpsite where the latest victim’s body had been found. “This guy doesn’t usually dump bodies out in the open. You think he was in a rush?”
The two of you had been sent to check it out while Hotch and Prentiss spoke to the family, and the others went over evidence from the many pre-existing cases at the station.
“Not likely.” You replied. “Preliminary report says there’s still no DNA, no skid marks from his tires, no shoe prints. He’s not getting sloppy.” You felt a sickly wave of vomit splash up as you looked at the woman - her ankles sticking out of the tall grass just off the edge of the highway, where she had been left, entirely visible for anybody passing by to see. “This was a present. Like a fuckin’ cat leaving a dead mouse on the porch. He wanted us to find her. And he wanted us to find her quickly.”
“I’ll tell you one thing,” Morgan noted, tentatively stepping into the grass and gently moving the long spokes of greenery back to get a better look at the victim. “He’s definitely escalating.”
You crouched down to get a better look yourself, and you had to agree.
Her face was almost entirely caved in, but it appeared to be from a series of blunt hits, and not from a singular swing with a heavy object. Between the pre-mortem swelling and the post-mortem rage, where he had continued to mutilate her even after her death, she was practically unrecognizable from the photo that her family had provided you with. The only reason the team had been able to confirm her identity for sure was that she had been reported missing, and she had been found wearing a unique custom charm bracelet that her parents could confirm belonged to her.
You wished that you could guarantee they would never see her body in this state.
“What’s that?” Morgan wondered aloud.
You hummed back in confusion.
Before you could wonder any further about what he meant, he reached out and gently pried open the victim’s mouth, fishing out a small piece of plastic that he had seen sticking out from the corner of her swollen, bruised lips. He had to fight to get it out of her stiff, death rigored body, but when he was able to - a small plastic bag came out of her mouth.
A small plastic bag containing a piece of white paper.
“What the hell?” Morgan mumbled quietly.
Naturally, he opened the bag and took out the paper, and you looked on with nervous curiosity as he read what was on the note.
“You are the stars hidden by clouds.” He read aloud. “I know you’re there even when I can’t see you. Your shine peeks out and reaches me in the depths of my soul. Tell me your arms are long enough to reach me across oceans. Tell me someday we will be together, somehow, some way. Tell me that this love we have can survive being together as well as we’ve survived being apart. Tell me we are more than the chasm of our divide.”
Bile splashed up in your throat.
You hated that the quote was distinctly familiar to you. You hated how you knew it.
You could still hear his voice in your head, and it made your bones quake.
“Hmm.” Morgan looked over the paper thoughtfully. “It’s another page ripped out of a book. Just like the other one. I’ll call Garcia and have her look it up, maybe-”
“You don’t have to.” You said, hoping that your throat wasn’t too painfully constricted around your words. “It’s Jacqueline Simon Gunn.”
Morgan easily saw the haunted look behind your eyes - the years old terror that you were having a much harder time suppressing now.
Oddly enough, it was a feeling that he knew well. Perhaps that’s why he saw it in you so easily.
“You alright?” He bothered to ask, even though he knew the answer was ‘no’.
“I’m fine.” You lied. “We should bring this back to everyone else.”
You rushed away from the crime scene like a bat out of hell, and even though he knew he should have pressed further - he let you.
…
Wednesday, August 15th, 2007.
Madison Police Department - Madison, GA. 10:08AM.
“Good morning, y’all.”
The BAU was greeted by Chief Dalton, the Madison County Chief of Police, as you all filed into the small police department.
“You can set up in the conference room over there, I hope we got y’all everything you need.” He said, flashing a warm, welcoming smile.
“This looks fine, thank you.” JJ said, reaching out to shake his hand. “I’m Special Agent Jennifer Jareau, this is Doctor Spencer Reid,” She pointed to him, and he nodded in return - of course, rather than shaking hands. “This is Special Agent Emily Prentiss, Agent Rossi, and Agent L/N. Our Unit Chief Aaron Hotchner and Special Agent Morgan will be here later - they wanted to go and interview some of the families of the victims, get some more background information.”
“L/N?” He motioned toward you, his eyes becoming fixated on you as you set down your bag and lifted one of the lids off the boxes to get a glance at some of the files. “That name sounds awful familiar to me - are you from Madison?”
“Oh yes, I am,” You grinned at him, stepping forward and giving him a handshake, to which he grinned back widely. “I grew up here. This is actually my first time back in years.”
“Well, welcome home.” He said. “I wish it was under better circumstances.”
“Me too.” You easily agreed.
You thought that would be the end of it, until:
“You know I hardly recognized you. Such a pretty face, but the last time I saw you, you was beat to a darn pulp.” He remarked, giving a pained chuckle.
Your stomach swelled with anxiety, and it felt like a pure balloon of concrete sitting inside of you. You felt all the eyes in the room on you - Rossi, JJ, Emily, Spencer - all of them staring you down as this man aired your dirty laundry like it was as casual as the weather report.
“You came through here - what was it, the summer of ‘99? I’ll never forget that assault report. I’m surprised you can still see out of that right eye of yours, with the way-”
“Coffee?” You cut him off when you managed to find your voice, rushing to change the subject and praying he would get the hint. “Where can I get a coffee around here? Long flight. And we’ve had an early morning. Long flight, going over the case.”
You didn’t even realize you were tripping over your own words, repeating yourself in a rush to fill the air so he wouldn’t speak about the past anymore.
“Oh, it’s right through there. In the break room.” He said, motioning vaguely behind him.
“Would you mind showing me, please?”
You knew it was cowardly, but you were now desperate to escape your colleagues, and wanted to drag the Chief away before he spilled anything else from his loose lips.
He escorted you out of the room and it was only a mere moment before conversation ensued about the strange thing that had just happened.
“Am I gonna be the first person to say ‘what the hell’?” Rossi asked, looking around to his teammates, who all had equally shocked and confused expressions.
“It’s a small town. These people don’t exactly understand secrecy. Or tact.” JJ sighed.
“Yeah, but why would Y/N keep that a secret from us?” Spencer asked, frowning. “If she was assaulted-”
“Yeah, in the summer of ‘99.” Emily pressed. “That was a long time ago. Have you told everyone on the team every little detail about your life from ten years ago?”
“Eight years.” Spencer easily corrected her.
“Whatever.” Emily rolled her eyes. “We’re not here to profile her. We’re here to catch another scumbag and leave.”
There seemed to be a resounding nod at this.
“If she wants to tell us about what happened, she will.” Rossi added on.
…
Wednesday, August 15th, 2007.
Outskirts of Madison - Madison, GA. 9:52AM.
“There’s my beautiful girl.”
He had a perfect view of you through the scope of his gun.
Of course, he would never hurt you. There was no bullet in that gun that was intended for you. This was just the perfect way to see you. Up close and personal. Just the way he liked it.
This was the first time he had seen you in so long. You wore your makeup differently now - your hair was a bit different. But you were still his girl.
“You’re gonna love the present I left for ya.”
You spoke his language - violence.
You wrote your life in blood, just like he did.
You were perfect. His perfect girl.
…
Wednesday, August 15th, 2007.
Inside the BAU Jet - Somewhere Above America. 7:12AM.
“So, the ME dates eight of these victims from within the last year alone?” Prentiss questioned, looking over some of the files on the table in front of her.
“Well, it’s difficult to tell with the soil erosion and the heavy rain that the area had recently, but they are significantly less decomposed than the others.” JJ explained.
“What I don’t understand,” Morgan noted. “Why would he give up his gig now? I mean, twenty four victims in a mass grave in the middle of the woods, and he leaves a twenty-fifth victim in the middle of the road, clearly intending for police to find it. With a damn note attached, giving up the exact coordinates of his mass dumpsite. Why?”
“It is strange.” Reid agreed. “Typically, whenever killers have contact with the police, it is to taunt them for their inability to get caught, believing that the police are stupid and they as killers are invincible.” He said. Naturally, this rolled into a rant as more facts came to mind about the subject.
“Serial killer Dennis Rader, also known as the BTK killer, standing for Blind, Torture, Kill - he taunted police with letters over a period of three decades, between 1974 and 1991, each one that he sent to the local police simply saying ‘good luck hunting’.” Reid explained. “Occasionally, he would send them graphic descriptions of how he had posed the bodies at each crime scene. And he was only caught when a floppy disc he sent to a local television station was traced back to a computer that he had used at his church.”
Reid laughed at this revelation, finding it amusing. With all eyes staring at him, he reached the realization that this wasn’t helpful to the case at hand - and then he easily clammed up.
“So, this UnSub gives up the dumpsite because… he’s feeling remorseful? He wants to get caught?” Rossi theorized.
“The level of violence across these recent victims has no indication of remorse.” You replied. “One of the bodies found at the dumpsite was missing over half her teeth, and had all ten of her fingers broken in multiple places. Seemingly pre-mortem.”
There was a heavy silence at this.
“Perhaps he’s feeling ignored,” Hotch posed. “He feels like his crimes aren’t being well covered by the media and he wants glory. He finally wants recognition for what he’s done.”
“Well, wouldn’t he have sent some kind of manifesto or another letter to the police?” Morgan posed. “And it seems like the guy went through a whole lot of trouble for a long time, trying not to get caught. He buried them out in the woods, secluded. Wrapped them in plastic, scrubbed the bodies clean so there’s absolutely no DNA. Doesn’t seem like someone looking for glory to me.”
“Not to mention that he wrote the coordinates for the dumpsite on the back of a page ripped out of a novel.” Rossi said, squinting down at one of the files - a close up forensic photo that had been sent over by the local police department.
Prentiss held out her hand, and Rossi handed over the photo, and then she began reading the words off the page aloud.
“-I wish, as well as everybody else, to be perfectly happy, but-”
“-but, like everybody else, it must be in my own way.” You finished the quote before she could, the words flashing through your mind with a sickly twist in your gut. It was all too familiar to you, in the worst way. “It’s Sense and Sensibility. Jane Austin.”
Everyone fixated on you with a strange gaze, wondering how you knew this off the top of your head. Especially when usually this would only be something that Reid would be able to recite so perfectly by heart.
“Maybe he thinks that he’s romancing these women?” Prentiss theorized, trying to move on from the strange moment.
“That’s plausible.” Hotch agreed. “When we land, Morgan and I will go interview some of the families. JJ, get us their contacts. I want to know if any of these women had problems with an ex boyfriend or even a bad date whom they rejected. It could be someone they once viewed as a potential romantic partner that went horribly wrong.”
JJ nodded at this, going to look through her files for the information.
“This level of torture - it’s likely a substitute for sexual gratification.” Morgan theorized, looking at the crime scene photos one again. “Maybe he is romancing these women, but in his mind, this is the ultimate form of romance? Having all of his conquests together in death - it’s a declaration of what a casanova he is. In his fractured world.”
“It still doesn’t explain why he gave up the dumpsite to the police.” Prentiss argued.
“Men like to brag about their sexual exploits.” Rossi said, nodding toward Morgan. “If these women are his conquests, in his mind, then he wants his manliness, his accomplishments, to be appreciated by other men.”
Prentiss sharply rolled her eyes at this.
“Well, at least we know our UnSub’s not a woman.” She remarked sharply.
…
Wednesday, August 15th, 2007.
BAU Offices (FBI Headquarters) - Quantico, Virginia. 6:15AM.
JJ stood at the front of the room, ready to present the newest case to everyone.
“Last night, a body was discovered on the backroads of South Carolina, about five miles outside of the town of Delph. She was found naked, mutilated. Heavy bruising all over her body that insinuates the killer kept her and tortured her for days. Final cause of death appears to be blunt force trauma from multiple hits to the head, but she also had several shallow stab wounds across her body, seemingly from some kind of hunting knife with a rough blade.”
JJ explained, beginning to present the case as she clicked the small remote, causing images of the crime scene to pop up on the large screen in the room.
“The victim - now identified as Ashley Prembrooke, hadn’t even been reported missing. She left her parents house in Madison, Georgia, about three days ago to drive back to her dorm at the University of South Carolina. When she didn’t show up on time, her roommate assumed that she was staying at home for a few extra days. Her father has cancer, so she wanted to be there for him.”
There seemed to be a particularly dark aura in the room at this news.
“Did the killer know that she wouldn’t be reported missing, or did he just snatch her up by chance?” Morgan asked.
“Her car was found abandoned at a rest stop a few miles from the border of Georgia.” JJ explained. “So… it seems to be random.”
“Well, I hate to ask this,” Rossi said. “But why are we being called out for just one body?”
“That’s the thing.” JJ sighed.
She clicked the clicker again, and several close-up photos appeared. Photos of the victim’s mutilated body - among the harsh bruising on her torso, there was a piece of white paper, partially stained with blood. It had been folded and stapled into her flesh.
“The victim was found with this page… stapled into her skin.” JJ said, clearly finding the words disturbing to speak aloud. “Written on the back, was a set of coordinates. Local police discovered that these coordinates lead to a random patch of woods, about ten miles outside of Madison, Georgia.”
JJ queued more pictures onto the screen. It was those very woods - overturned dirt. And more than a dozen bodies, wrapped in plastic among the soil.
“It was the site of a mass grave with twenty-four other victims - all women around the same age, with the most recent ones all having the same body type, the same hair color, same general makeup as Ashley Prembrooke.”
“He has a type.” Hotch stated the obvious.
“And for some reason, he tipped the police off to his hiding place.” JJ reminded them all.
“Twenty four victims?” Prentiss questioned, clearly shocked by this number.
“That’s what they’ve found so far. The decomposition on some of the bodies seems to go back as far as a decade, but it’s difficult to date them exactly.” JJ replied.
“So… the guy is experienced, hasn’t been caught in years, and he hands over his honey pot to the cops? Is he trying to get caught? Is he feeling guilty?” Rossi posed.
“No, not with that level of violence. There’s no remorse there.” Morgan replied.
“He dumped Ashley Prembrooke over state lines. We could be looking at somebody with an incredibly wide hunting ground who gave up one of many dumpsites as a way to taunt police.” Hotch theorized.
“That doesn’t seem to be the case.” JJ explained. “So far, eight of the most recent victims have been matched up with missing persons reports, all of them women from Madison. All within the last year alone. It seems like he targeted Ashley because she was from Madison - that’s his comfort zone.”
When the pictures of the missing women - now confirmed dead, murdered violently, popped up on screen, your throat tightened.
You had known at least two of them. You had gone to school with them. You had seen them cheer proudly at high school pep rallies - you had known them lively and bright. And now they were bones rotting in the soil, taken by some monster.
Beyond that, there was an alarming trend.
They looked like you. You couldn’t deny that. Same hair color, same body type, same skin tone.
And they were from your hometown.
Between this, and the letter, the morning was getting to be too much for you. You wanted to believe it was all a series of terrible coincidences, but…
Looking across the roundtable at you, Reid was the only one who saw that sickly look come over your face. He was desperate to know what was troubling you.
“Reid?” Hotch got his attention, finding it strange that the overly talkative man was quiet this morning. “You’ll work the geographical profile?”
“Yes.” Reid nodded, finally taking his eyes off you. “It’s unusual for the killer to hunt wider than a five hundred mile radius from home. So it’s likely that he lives, works, and operates all within Madison.”
“Good. We could be looking at a copy-cat who knew about the previous killer’s dumpsite, or… something else entirely. But we need to get on the ground there and find out.” Hotch said. “Wheels up in thirty.”
Everyone dispersed from the table when Hotch finalized with this, and you found yourself much dizzier than you realized as you tried to stand. As everyone moved to their desks to gather their things, you moved to the counter to get a coffee - hoping to calm your nerves.
“Y/N.”
You nearly jumped out of your skin when Reid’s voice came from behind you - your own blood was pumping in your ears, and seemingly, he had snuck up behind you. But his usually quiet footsteps simply couldn’t be heard beyond the nagging thump of your own anxiety.
“What?” You barked back, knowing it was far too harsh.
“Are - are you alright?” He asked, hesitant to bother you with the question.
“I’m fine.” You lied as you dumped the sugar packets into your cup, your shaking hands accidentally spilling some across the counter top.
“Are you sure?” Reid pressed.
You let out a heavy sigh and turned to face him, crossing your arms heavily over your chest.
“What?” You said the word again, sternly, glaring at him.
All he did was give you a soft, understanding expression in return.
You hated it.
You hated how he was so open - it was almost horrifying, how you could have easily told him what was bothering you.
Sweet, accepting, understanding Reid.
If you told him the truth, he probably would have told you some statistic that he found comforting. It would have been sweet, coming from him. But then, he would have been looking at you with those eyes all damn day, holding pity in his heart and not truly focusing on the work that needed to get done.
“Can you look at the shit we see every single day and always be okay with it?”
You easily made up an excuse, pretending you were rattled by the crime scene photos, even though this murder was no more graphic in nature than any other you had been subjected to seeing recently.
“I’m human. So what?”
Reid studied your face carefully. He saw guilt dancing in your eyes - the way you gently bit your lip was your tell for lying, that much he knew from playing many rounds of poker with you on the plane rides home.
But he felt that simply nagging you more wouldn’t get the truth out of you. Not right now.
“Okay.” He acquiesced. “I know it’s hard. If you ever need someone to talk to-”
You stormed off, accidentally slamming into his shoulder on the way along in your haste to escape the conversion. Reid heavily eyed the cup of coffee that you had left cooling on the counter before he turned and left himself.
…
Wednesday, August 15th, 2007.
BAU Offices (FBI Headquarters) - Quantico, Virginia. 6:04AM.
You walked into the bullpen with your bag on your arm, sipping a strong coffee in a travel mug you had brought from home.
“You look tired.” Emily commented as you walked over to your desk. “Late night?”
You moaned in reply, not yet ready to let go of nursing your coffee mug, taking a few more long gulps as you took the strap of your bag off your shoulder and slung it into your chair.
“Last night, the fire alarm in my building went off at 3am.” You told her, finally surrendering the mug and putting it down on your desk. “I was out of bed in a panic, barely awake, went into the hallway to evacuate - and the sprinklers had gone off. So I ended up standing outside for more than an hour in my little jammies, soaking wet, and it turns out - some teenager from the third floor pulled the alarm because he was having an argument with his mom. He didn’t want to go to summer school.”
“Yikes.” Derek commented. “Well, you know, if you ever need a calm, cozy place to sleep, you can always give me a call. And you can bring your little jammies.” He told you with a wink. You rolled your eyes, knowing that flirting was his default. “As long as you don’t mind Clooney licking at your toes in the mornin’.”
That almost made it sound more appealing. You did love that dog.
“You know, a study was done at the University of New Hampshire that concluded that twenty to thirty minute windows of sleep actually optimize the human brain for functionality the most.” Spencer added on, leaning back in his chair at his desk as he explained this.
“The schedule of a ten to twelve hour work day, followed by an eight hour sleep period has only been instituted in society as a commonality since the industrial revolution. And it doesn’t actually flow with how the human brain has been optimized by evolution. Before that, most people optimized their lives around a wake-sleep period of three to four hours, taking care of chores in the morning, participating in a midday nap, and then socializing in the evening and partaking in community events before sleeping again in the evening. And most communities functioned around people sleeping and waking at vastly different times rather than everyone having one collective morning routine.” He concluded, giving you a smile.
You found his rambling fascinating, but you found it ironic that you could barely process half of what he had said - because you were too tired.
“Well, unfortunately we can’t all live in villages and pick berries for a living.” Emily remarked with a yawn.
The conversation shifted when Penelope walked in, and gave you a bright smile.
“Good morning, pretty girl.” She greeted you.
“Mornin’, Penny G.” You replied.
“This arrived on the mailcart for you, postmarked from a few days ago, stamped express. I figured you’d want to have eyes on it as soon as possible.” She told you, handing you a very average looking white envelope.
You weren’t sure why, but it invoked a strange feeling in your gut.
The moment that you saw the handwriting on your front - the script that made up your name.
The way he had written it.
Bile rose up in your throat, and you forced yourself to swallow it back down. All eyes in the room immediately knew that something was wrong.
“What is it?” Emily asked.
“Nothing.” You quickly replied.
You didn’t even want to open it, but bitter curiosity was eating at you.
How the hell had he found your work address? He knew where you worked now?
“I’m gonna - bathroom.” You mumbled an excuse as you rushed back out of the room again, practically fleeing toward the bathroom, leaving all eyes on your shadow.
In particular, Spencer’s eyes followed you hard as you retreated. He wondered how a simple letter could upset you so much.
You secluded yourself safely in a locked stall, your heart thumping in your chest as you began to tear into the letter. The envelope turned to sinew in your hands with your anxious inability to open it properly. In a few moments, you pulled out the piece of paper with a shaking hand, and dropped the shredded envelope onto the floor.
You barely managed to read its contents through tearful eyes.
Lover,
Fate has sent us on such different paths, but I will be with you again soon.
I still miss you every single day. I remember your smell.
I know none of the men you have spent your recent years with can measure up to me, which is why I have set you on the path back to me.
“I wish, as well as everybody else, to be perfectly happy; but like everybody else, it must be in my own way.”
-Daniel
Your chest caved in when you realized that there was something taped to the corner of the page.
You recognized the piece of dark cloth in an instant.
It was from that night. He had kept it.
You couldn’t keep the bile down that time. You turned to the toilet and puked up a horrible swirl of black coffee and half a toaster waffle that you had scarfed down while getting dressed for work.
When you had just barely caught your breath, you heard the door to the bathroom creak open.
“Y/N?” Emily called out your name. “Are you in here?”
You didn’t answer.
Instead, you heaved a large glob of putrid spit into the toilet and wiped your mouth with the back of your hand.
“Are you okay?” She asked, her voice now coming from right outside the stall you were in.
“I’m fine.” You handed out that lie, not knowing how many times in the next day you were going to be saying it.
“You don’t sound fine.” Emily told you. “I thought I heard you throwing up.”
“Bad sushi.” You lied. “Stopped by the corner store on my way home. You know I never cook. Food poisoning is usually 50/50 with that kind of shit. Just another thing to add to my great night, right?”
You let out a sour, sarcastic chuckle, but Emily didn’t follow suit.
You knew that you would have to face her sooner or later, so you wiped your mouth again and then turned and unlocked the stall door.
“I’ll be fine.” You told her, throwing her a very fake smile.
“Yeah.” She said, tone flat, entirely disbelieving. “Would it have anything to do with that?”
She motioned to the letter, which you had almost forgotten was crumbled up in your fist.
“Can I see?”
You didn’t even consider how suspicious it would be, but as her hand moved toward the paper, you ripped it up and tossed it into the toilet, grabbing the envelope up off the floor and tossing it into the mess of paper and vomit as well before you flushed it all down.
“It’s nothing.” You grunted out, another very poor lie coming from your lips as you exited the stall and moved toward the sinks. “It’s garbage.”
You turned on the tap and leaned down, taking in a mouthful of water to rinse out your mouth while she watched you with careful, piercing eyes.
“It’s kind of pathetic that you’re trying so hard to bullshit me.” Emily remarked. “Not just because we’re both profilers, but because it’s so painfully obvious that something is wrong.”
You swirled the water around your mouth, rinsing it out, and then spit into the sink before you turned the tap off. When you rose up to your full height, you caught Emily’s eye in the mirror - pitying. You hated it.
It was that kind of pity that held you back from telling her the truth.
She reached over to the dispenser and got you some of the paper towel, handing it to you as she spoke again.
“You know you can tell me what’s bothering you, right?” She said, reaching up to put a gentle hand on your shoulder.
There was a small, quiet moment - the words edged on your tongue.
You truly considered just coming out with it.
But then-
A harsh knock on the door cut through the silence.
“Y/N? Em?” JJ poked her head in through the door, clearly looking for the two of you. When she spotted you, she continued on. “I need everybody at the roundtable in five.”
“Let’s get going.” You said, wiping your mouth and then crumpling the paper towel to toss it into the garbage can.
…
Thursday, August 16th, 2007.
Madison Police Department - Madison, GA. 1:45AM.
Reid stormed in, capturing everyone’s attention.
After being given a shoebox full of strange letters by your mother, he had finally pieced it together. He finally realized the secret you had been hiding - the thing that put you right in this killer’s crosshairs.
“Guys, I think we got the profile all wrong.” He announced, a look of worry knit into his features. “And - if I’m right, then I think I know where she is.”
He motioned to something in his hands - it was a worn-out old shoebox, something that made everyone curious and confused.
“What the hell is that?” Prentiss asked.
“Come on.” Reid ushered everyone into the conference room, and once the whole team was gathered, he shut the door.
He opened the box and spilled it into the middle of the table, revealing a flood of hand-written letters. JJ stood back in shock, Hotch observed carefully and silently as usual, and Rossi, Morgan, and Prentiss began to pick through them while Reid explained his revelation.
“Y/N’s mother gave me these.” He explained. “All of them are addressed to Y/N, and from what I can see, they’re pretty much weekly, and they go back as far as 1999.”
“When the first murder occurred.” Morgan easily pieced the two things together.
“Not only that,” Reid added on. “The first murder took place in August of ‘99.” He said, pointing to the picture of the first known victim on the evidence board. “And I think the first letter, or one of the earliest, is from July of ‘99. At least.”
“So - so she was having correspondence with the killer?” JJ questioned. “What? Was he in prison? Are you saying that Y/N is involved with this in some way?”
“No-” Reid rushed to correct this assumption, and Morgan cut him off.
“She was at Quantico when the latest victims were killed. Even if the guy has a partner, I really don’t take her as bein’ responsible for this.” He said.
“Plus, these don’t exactly read as love letters.” Pretniss pointed out, her expression growing disturbed as she read what the killer had written from the letter in her hands.
“-every day I dream of you, my love. I remember the way you felt underneath me - clawing for your life, desperate. I remember the way you screamed. Tasting your blood for the first time made me feel alive again. I hope the bruises meant as much to you as they did to me.”
“The use of ‘I’ language denotes self importance - the author has a natural narcissistic personality disorder, but he pretends that it’s a fulfilling two-way relationship, when naturally it’s a fixation on someone who could never truly live up to his fantasies.” Reid explained.
The room fell silent as the reality of it hit everyone. You were the target of someone truly dangerous. Someone who was going to kill you when you didn’t perform the fantasy that he had in mind for you.
“She was being stalked.” Reid declared quietly, sounding defeated. “She still is.”
“These killings aren’t someone having separate, individual fantasized relationships with each victim; this is about the killer repeating the same relationship over and over again, performing the same ritual killing in order to relive the same fantasy over again, projecting it onto different women of the same type.” Hotch said, coming to the realization as he stared at the different victims photos on the evidence board with a firm look on his face. “He’s been in love with the same woman in his mind for years, but nobody can live up to the real thing. That’s why he gave up the dump site. Because he wanted to lure her here. He wanted the FBI here, because he wanted to get L/N here.”
“Okay, but the bigger question is: why L/N? What was the incident that got him fixated on her in the first place?” Rossi questioned, asking what was on everyone’s mind.
JJ’s face was struck with horrible realization, and she ran to the door, ripping it open. She screamed the Chief’s name at the top of her lungs until she got the man’s attention, looking entirely crazed to everyone else in the station. Naturally, she didn’t care. He bustled over, scurrying toward her urgent voice, spilling coffee on himself in the process.
“Chief.” JJ breathed out. “You said that Y/N came through the station, and she was beaten up the last time you saw her - when was that?”
“Oh, I dunno?” He creased his brows with concentration, trying to remember. “About ‘98? ‘99?”
“Did she file a report about the incident?” JJ asked.
“Yeah.” The Chief replied. “It was a break-in. Poor thing. Summer vacation, her mother wasn’t home, off with the church on a retreat hittin’ the bingo halls up in Texas. She said that she never saw the attacker, though. He was wearin’ a ski-mask.”
There was a silent exchange among the group that said they knew the truth - you had seen the attacker, you knew him. It’s why you had gone with him willingly this time. But you hadn’t told the police the truth back then because you had been too scared.
“Can you get me that report?” JJ asked.
After too many anxious minutes, the Chief came back with an old file in hand, and JJ snatched it out of his hands with a mumbled thank you before she shut the door in his face once again. She placed it down on the table among the mess of letters, and flipped it open.
“Oh my god.” Emily gasped when she saw the photos inside.
There was a spread of old polaroid photos, pinned to the sides of the file. They were almost too graphic for the team to look at - one showing the damage to your face; both of your eyes bruised, one of them entirely swollen shut. Scratches, deep gashes, harsh bruising all over your body. You were wearing a dark cotton tee shirt with patches ripped out of it - as if someone had been clawing at you and nearly ripped the clothing off your body to keep you from getting away.
“This wasn’t a burglary.” Derek mumbled, frowning as he picked up one of the photos and inspected it closer.
“Get Garcia on the line,” Hotch told JJ.
She dialed the tech’s number on the conference hub, having to unbury the small bit of technology from some papers before she did it. It rang for a few moments before the woman on the other end picked up.
“Where’s our girl?” Garcia asked anxiously, talking about you. “Is there any news? You’re calling because there’s good news, right?”
“Babygirl,” Derek called out, trying to get her to focus, but she trampled right past this and continued to ramble on.
“Please don’t tell me she’s dead!” Garcia shrieked on the other end. “Cause I can’t keep losing people! And I know it’s selfish to say that I can’t lose her, but she’s one of my best friends, and I’m gonna be a mess! And she promised to be the maid of honor and my wedding, and I know I’m not even engaged, and I don’t even have a boyfriend, but I need to have her around for big milestones in my life like that, she’s like the best person I know, and-”
“Garcia, we need you.” Hotch told her firmly, cutting off her emotional ranting.
“Right.” The tech replied, sucking in sharply, trying to catch her breath. There was some scraping in the background - the wheels of her chair on the floor as she scooted her chair into her desk. “What do you need? I’m here.”
“I need you to look up reports of rape in and around Madison County between 1991 and 1999.” Hotch told her.
“Rape?” Garcia replied, seemingly shocked by the topic and how it might relate to the case at hand - how it might relate to you.
“Come on, babygirl.” Derek encouraged her. “Work your magic.”
“Yeah. I got it.” She said hesitantly, and then there was the clacking of her keyboard as she worked.
“Oh. Ugh.”
“What is it?” Rossi was the first to ask.
“There’s over five hundred cases.” Penelope told them, clearly disgusted by this number.
“Can you narrow it down to women in their twenties? With similarities to the victims who have been targeted by the killer. Same hair type, same race, same body type.” Hotch told her.
“Turning on the creep filter.” Garcia said, using her usual sense of humor that she turned on to shield herself. “That leaves us with… about twenty cases.”
“Were any of them prosecuted?” Hotch asked.
“Two of them.” Penelope replied. “A couple of sorority sisters from the University of Georgia were held at gunpoint and raped by a pizzaman in ‘95. He went to trial, got ten years. And he was paroled for good behavior in 2003. Yikes.” Emily rolled her eyes in agreement with his comment. “And shortly after his parole, he crashed his car into a tree in a drunk driving incident. Looks like he’s probably not your guy.”
“What about the other eighteen cases?” Reid asked.
“Um… no.” Garcia replied. “None of them went to court. A lot of these say that the victims were attacked by a stranger… that he broke in through the back door. Hold on.”
“What?” Derek prompted her.
“There is one here. Terry Driver. She said that she was raped, and she identified her rapist as someone she knew - Daniel Matthews. But he was never arrested because his brother gave him an ability for the night of the incident.” Garcia explained.
“I bet that one was air-tight.” Rossi scoffed.
“What type of injuries did the victims have?” Hotch asked.
“Um… nothing major.” Penelope replied. Hotch frowned. “A black eye… a few scratches.” She hesitated. “Ligature marks… from being tied to their beds. God. That sounds like the most horrible night of your life, doesn’t it?”
Hotch shook his head, sweeping a tense hand over his face. “He doesn’t fit the profile.”
“Wait.” Reid swallowed thickly, staring at the photos of you that were sitting in the middle of the table.
Battered. Bruised. Broken.
“Some of the letters refer to him having an awakening. ‘An awakening in my soul. A bond through blood.’” He explained, naturally reciting the words from memory after having only read them once.
“She fought back hard.” He held up one of the photos - one of your arm, showing deep, bloody scratches. Defensive wounds. “She found back so hard - he must have liked it. It-”
“It gave him a taste for violence.” Prentiss finished off the thought, fear written all over her face. “She - she was the one who made him realize that he could use violence to replace sex completely. So he switched from rape to murder.” She came to the shocking realization aloud, her eyes flickering from the photo of you to all the photos scattered across the evidence board - all the victims he had practiced on in the wake of you.
“Oh - oh my god.” Penelope gasped, having heard all of this over the intercom. “He’s gonna kill her? He’s gonna kill Y/N?”
“Garcia, What can you get me on Matthews?” Hotch asked.
“Um, right - Daniel Matthews…” There was more clacking of keys, and then Penelope replied. “He grew up in Madison. Looks like he went to the same high school as Y/N. He used to play football. He has a juvenile record for… vandalism, underage drinking. The usual. Oh…”
“Oh?” JJ wondered aloud.
“He had a very brief stint in the FBI Academy. He was kicked out 2001 when he was accused of sexually harassing fellow female applicants, and he was flagged on the psych eval as having a possible narcissistic personality disorder.” Garcia explained.
“Bingo.” Rossi sighed. “That’s our UnSub.”
“Oh my god. The hiatus.” Morgan said, his eyes fixated on the evidence board now. “‘99 was the year he attacked Y/N, when he first got a taste for it… and then… he followed her to the Academy?”
“And he resumed the killings when he got kicked out.” Rossi picked up on the thought. “When he couldn’t be in close contact with her anymore… he couldn’t get a high off of retraumatizing her, reliving that night in his mind, he needed to relive it through the other victims.”
It all fit together now.
It was a horrible puzzle, but it all fit together around you.
“Reid, you said you might know where he took her?” Pretniss said, turning back to the very tired looking genius.
“Yes,” Reid shoved aside the file with the graphic photos of you, and went shuffling through the letters for something. When he found it, he handed it over to Prentiss. “A lot of the earliest dated letters make reference to ‘our special place’. Or-”
“-the bed I first made love to you in.” Prentiss read it off the page, clearly holding back vomit.
JJ grabbed up the file with the report about the break-in, shoving aside the photos, looking for an address. “It’s here. I’ve got it.”
“Okay, I want squad cars, tactical swat, I want spike strips on every road in or out of that place. I need everyone mobile in ten minutes.” Hotch ordered sharply, causing everyone to jump into action.
…
Thursday, August 16th, 2007.
Abandoned Country House - Madison, GA. 2:20AM.
It should have felt like a victory to hold a knife to the throat of your rapist - someone who had been taunting you for years after the incident.
But somehow, you still felt small. You still felt so chaotic and out of control.
Both your hands shook vigorously as you struggled with the warring inside of you, as you struggled with the weight of confronting your life’s biggest monster.
In the back of your mind, you were aware of the guns pointed at you. You would have liked to believe that because Emily was your friend - she wouldn’t shoot you.
Part of you thought it would be worth it. To kill this man and take a bullet in the process.
You just hoped that she would aim to wound and not to kill.
“Put the knife down!” Emily ordered, her voice sounding muffled in your ears as blood thumped hard through you. “Come on, put it down.”
“Reid-!”
You heard his name being called out, and you saw a figure moving from the corner of your eye, but all you could focus on was the blade in your hand. The sight of a thick, unmarked neck, ripe for the taking in front of you. The idea that all you had to do was press down and slice through flesh - and then, this would all be over.
No more torment. No more letters. No more taunting.
“Y/N,”
His soothing voice spoke your name, and you held a sob inside of your chest.
You had grown so much of a life beyond this. Beyond him. He had tried to ruin you, he had tried to keep you in some little cage in some shitty town, and you had outgrown him. You had friends. You had people who loved you.
But you still couldn’t escape him.
“You don’t have to do this.”
Your hand shook as you held the knife.
“I have to.” You replied, unable to hold back your sobs. You barely noticed the tears coming out of your eyes - barely able to identify why your vision was blurring, why your face was suddenly wet.
“You don’t have to.” Reid told you, his voice calming, gentle. “You - you can give me the knife, and then we can just… walk away. And then it all ends.”
“It won’t just end!” You screamed out, your voice a curtling weep that bounced off the walls.
If you let Daniel walk away from this, he would come for you again. He would.
Or he would keep killing other women in your place. And you couldn’t let that happen.
You couldn’t let your cowardice be the reason that so many women had died. You should have killed him the first time he had ever touched you. You should have been brave enough then.
“It can end.” Reid assured you calmly. “You just have to come with me. You just have to put the knife down and-”
It just sounded like noises in your ears at that point.
Spencer just didn’t understand.
“I have to make it stop!” You screamed, urgent to make him truly hear you. “I killed those women. I killed them!”
“Prentiss!” A voice called her name, but it was so distant in your ears.
“Just give him a minute!” Prentiss fired back.
“He killed them because of me!” You shouted, cutting him off. “We both know it’s my fault.”
“It’s not.” Reid choked out. “Please don’t say that.”
There was a gutting silence.
“Please, just give me the knife.”
You couldn’t give up.
You had come too far to let Daniel win now.
“It was my fault. I know what happened. If I had just been a good little girl… if I had just laid there and taken it… it’s all my fault.” You quietly wept, your arms still shaking - muscles ripe with hesitation as you struggled with your grip on the knife. “I have to be the one to make it stop.”
By violence it was done, and by violence it would be undone.
You could be brave enough this time. You could be the one to end it.
“No, no you don’t.” Reid told you. “You don’t have to do it alone. We can make it stop together. Just give me the knife. Please.”
You had been alone your whole life. What was one more thing?
Just press down. Something in your mind screamed. Slice his throat. End it.
“Please, just look at me.” Spencer begged, his voice growing more desperate. “Please.”
You didn’t look up at him.
You knew that you couldn’t.
If you took one look at those soft, pitying eyes, then the tiny bit of bravery you had gathered up would crack away.
“Y/N, please.” Spencer continued. “I know why you think you have to do this. I know that his face is the one that’s been in all your nightmares since that night. I - I know you were all alone then, on the night that happened. You must have felt so alone.”
You let out another sob at this.
You had been so alone.
“But you’re not alone now. You’re not alone now, okay?”
Spencer’s gentle voice delivering the words made them feel so true.
“We’re here with you now. I’m here with you. You don’t have to do this alone. You don’t have to fight by yourself anymore. You don’t have to be strong.”
You heard a crack in his voice for the first time - his own tears.
It wasn’t pity.
It was genuine sadness for you, as he thought about what had happened to you. What had happened in this very bedroom all those years ago.
“Spencer-” You choked out his name, and your body betrayed you.
You finally collapsed, your hand dropping the knife, and Spencer reached out and grabbed you as you fell, helping to move your shuddering form away from the unconscious, horrible man as the others finally moved in.
You heard more voices, more shouting - maybe Hotch giving orders.
But all you felt was Spencer’s arms around you, creating a shield as he rubbed your back and gently hushed you, letting you sob as loudly as you needed to, giving you a kind of comfort that you had never felt on that horrible night.
…
Thursday, August 16th, 2007.
Madison Police Department, Interrogation Room #1 - Madison, GA. 3:39AM.
The chilled air of the interrogation room only made the regret of it all more palpable in your lungs.
Maybe Reid had saved you from yourself, or maybe he had caused you to make the biggest mistake of your life.
You should have killed Daniel.
You hated it, but you had to wonder what you would have done if you had ten more minutes. Ten more minutes before they had arrived, sirens screeching, lights flashing. Your mind kept replaying the moments over and over again. The knife had felt so perfect in your hand. You should have sliced his throat.
Ten more minutes.
The hum of the fluorescents overhead made you feel like a bug about to be zapped - like your entire life was over and you would be resigned to a cage.
Daniel had been hauled away in an ambulance. He had been entirely unmoving. In ‘critical condition’. They would likely charge you with manslaughter if he didn’t recover - it wasn’t likely that he would. You had overheard Prentiss remark on the irony that he was an organ donor. Because you had beaten him so badly, but not killed him, it was likely that his comatose state would lead to his organs being donated, and saving more lives.
It could be viewed as a beautiful thing.
But you had to wonder if the poison he had in his veins was contagious. Should the heart of a killer really live on inside someone else’s body?
“Let’s start with this,” Reid asked you sharply. “Why?”
Truthfully, you couldn’t give him that answer. You didn’t think you would ever have enough time to conjure it up within yourself.
“You’re the genius profiler, Doctor Reid.” You fired back coldly. “You tell me.”
You let out another puff of your cigarette, and he frowned at you.
“No.” He said. “No more bullshit. No more games.”
You definitely were not used to this version of Reid.
You were surprised that it had taken you almost killing someone to bring out his cold side. But you supposed that everyone had a line. And you had crossed his.
“Why didn’t you tell us you had been raped?” He asked. “Why didn’t you tell us that the rapist lived in your hometown and was a viable suspect in all of this? Why didn’t you tell us that the letter you received the other morning was just one of many your rapist sent you over the years, stalking you, obsessing over you after-?”
“Why?” You said, your voice scraping against the word harshly as you tossed it back at him, cutting off his ranting.
He gave you an impatient expression as it hung in the air - eyes wide, pursing his lips.
It caused you to flare with anger.
You let the cigarette burn down to a hot cherry between your fingers, the harsh sting against your skin being the only thing keeping you from lunging across the table and strangling him.
You stubbed it out in the ashtray before you answered him.
“Why didn’t I want to suddenly announce to a group of my intellectual peers that I was raped?” You echoed back, more tears gathering in the corners of your eyes - you knew that you must have looked quite crazed, especially when Hotch stiffened, and Reid’s expression dropped. “You know, when I first came to the BAU, it was the only time in my life that I wasn’t viewed as a victim.”
“Y/N-” Spencer said your name in that gentle tone again, but you weren’t having it this time.
“My dad left us when I was only a year old. And everybody viewed my Mama as this fucking martyr because she raised me by herself. ‘Oh poor girl. She doesn’t have a daddy. Poor little girl, all alone. Her mama does such a good job.’” You said, ranting in a crazed tone. But the floodgates had opened, and you couldn’t stop it. “Nobody wanted to talk about how my Mama was off half the time, drinking at bars, out partying with friends. She got pregnant at sixteen and she didn't want to stop having a life. God forbid I get in the way of that. I took care of my damn self! I raised myself!”
You knew you were screaming, but you couldn’t stop it.
“L/N-” Hotch tried speaking to you in a firmer voice.
But you couldn’t stop.
“Daniel only broke into the house that night because he knew I would be alone.” Your voice warbled harshly on the word, and you hated it.
You hated the look that Reid and Hotch were giving you.
Pity.
That look you had been trying to avoid for so long.
“When I came here that night and made the police report, they all knew I was bullshiting. They knew that it wasn’t a fucking burglary.” You pressed on. “But none of them said anything! They didn’t care.”
There was a tense moment. You swallowed thickly around your own tears, holding back sobs once again.
“Why didn’t you tell us?” Spencer tried again, seeming to be personally stuck on this point. “I asked you if something was wrong. Why didn’t you tell me?”
“That look in your eye.” You told him, entirely honest. “That look you have right now. I - I couldn’t stand the idea of you looking at me like that forever.”
“Daniel approached you in the parking lot of the corner store.” Hotch stated calmly. “Why did you go with him willingly? Did he have a gun on you?”
“He had a gun.” You told him. “He did have it pointed at me. But - I didn’t have mine. I didn’t like the odds.”
Hotch nodded at this.
“I didn’t want him to take another girl.” You added on. “I knew they were replacements. At that point, I realized what it was. I figured nobody else should have to die because of my mistake.”
“Mistake?” Spencer echoed back quietly.
“Not killing him the first time.” You said, knowing this was likely a bit too honest. “I should have killed him the first time he ever put his hands on me. I should have. I wanted him dead.”
Tears leaked hot from your eyes at this, and Spencer’s eyes grew glassy - he blinked back his own.
“You wanted him dead, but… did you want to kill him?” Hotch posed.
“I don’t know.”
...
“That is how heavy a secret can become. It can make blood flow easier than ink.”
-Patrick Rothfuss
...
A/N: This is a oneshot, meant to function as an episode of Criminal Minds, so please respect it as such. Please do not ask for a sequel or a continuation, because there will not be one. If you are going to comment about the work, please comment about the body of what has been written. I highly appreciate reblogs and comments if you enjoyed it, and if you want to see more of what I have written for Criminal Minds, definitely check out my Criminal Minds masterlist.
#sundrop writes#criminal minds#criminal minds x you#criminal minds x reader#criminal minds fic#criminal minds fanfiction#criminal minds fandom#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid imagine#spencer reid fanfiction#emily prentiss x reader#emily prentiss fanfiction
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Coming Out
Emily Prentiss x fem!reader
Warnings: some explicit language, mention of an unsub hurting Emily 😱, vague insinuations of homophobia, mostly fluff on fluff, feat. loyal himbo Derek Morgan
Word Count: 2k
Summary: Emily gets injured on the job, and all she really wants is you, her girlfriend. But she's not out to the rest of the team yet. Can she be vulnerable enough to share that part of herself with the team? Can she be vulnerable enough to let you take care of her? Takes place at the end of S3.E2.
Emily dabbed at her head and winced, checking her watch to see if it had been long enough to take more pain medication. But despite getting clocked with a plank of wood, she was glad to be on the jet, glad to be back with her team because they really were starting to feel like her team. Who was she kidding? She loved her job.
According to the pilot, the team would be landing at Quantico in a little over an hour. Emily grabbed her phone, discreetly shoving it into her pocket, before heading to the back of the plane. She needed to call you, but the rest of the team didn't know about you yet. Hell, the rest of the team didn't even know she was gay. It felt too personal, and she'd been hurt by people's reactions–people she loved and trusted deeply–too many times. She played her relationships and her sexuality close to the vest.
Reid tapped Emily's arm as she passed by.
"Oh! Are you going all the way to the back?"
Emily tensed. "Yep."
"Could you bring me a Sprite?"
She felt her shoulders relax, and she patted Reid on the arm. "Sure."
After knocking on the bathroom door to make sure that truly no one was around, she called you, her voice hushed as she rifled through tiny airplane soda cans, looking for Reid's Sprite.
"Hey, Em," you said, your voice bright.
"Hey," she said, a goofy smile spreading across her face. "What are you up to?"
"Nothing much. Saw a street rat earlier. I named him Guillermo. I think he's on the prowl for a girlfriend."
Emily laughed, covering her mouth.
"How was Milwaukee?" you asked.
"Good. Really good. We got the guy. We're on the plane now."
She could nearly hear how smug you were through the phone.
"You're glad you went back," you snickered, relishing in being right. She'd sworn that it wasn't a big deal, that it'd be easy to get another good job, but you knew her heart was with the BAU.
Emily sighed. "I am. You were right."
"You're gonna stay?"
"Looks that way."
"I knew it!" you crowed. "I'm glad. You're too good at your job to quit it."
"Thanks, love. Listen, Y/N, can I ask you a favor?"
"Of course! Anything."
Emily winced, touching the swollen bump on her head. "We land in about an hour. Can you pick me up and stay at my place tonight?"
"Wow." You drew out the vowel, milking the fact that Emily needed you for once. "You missed me that much, huh?"
"Well, yes, of course, but... I, uh... I kind of have a concussion?"
Your tone shifted immediately from smug to concerned. "What?! Why?! What happened!?"
"Unsub hit me with a plank of wood," she admitted reluctantly.
"Jesus Christ, Em! Are you okay!?"
"I'm fine, baby, I promise," she reassured you. "I just got a little banged up, that's all. But I'll need you to wake me up every few hours and make sure I'm cognizant."
"I think I have some soup in the freezer," you observed, your voice far away. You'd put her on speakerphone to rifle through the cabinets. "And I have a thermometer. I don't know, do concussions cause fevers? I've never had one."
Emily shook her head, smiling. She loved that your first response, always, was to take care of her. Emily was not used to being taken care of, and she didn't let many people do it. She certainly wouldn't let many people see it either. But she let you.
"No thermometers needed. Just you and your car and more you when we get home."
"You got it. When did you say you land?"
"In about an hour."
"Okay. I'll leave in a few."
"Oh," Emily added quickly. "And you're cleared to drive into Quantico. They know the car you drive and they've got your ID on file. Just show it to them at the gate."
You paused. "Well, that's a little Big Brother of them."
"I gave it to them a few months ago. Just in case you ever needed to come by. Sorry, I should've told you."
"It's okay," you decided, pulling on a jacket and a beanie. "It feels kind of badass to be on Quantico's list."
Emily laughed, almost excited to have a concussion because it meant you'd be snuggled right up to next to her for however long it took to get better. 48 hours at least.
"Alright, baby," she finished, Reid's Sprite in hand. "I'll see you in a bit."
"Bye, love."
Emily wiped the grin off her face before returning to the cabin with Reid's Sprite–it'd look suspicious if she was too happy coming back.
An hour later, the team was going their separate ways in the parking lot, waving goodbyes and slamming car doors under the buzzing lights.
Emily leaned on the wall outside the building entrance, relishing the crisp night air.
"You need a ride, Prentiss?" Morgan asked as he walked out, used go-bag slung over his shoulder. "You shouldn't be driving" He pointed to her head.
"No, that's okay," Emily waved him off. "I've got– uh... someone's... picking me up."
Fuck, she thought. The concussion was not helping her ability to lie well.
Morgan stared at her suspiciously.
"What?" Emily laughed, trying to act normal.
"Why are you acting shifty?"
"I'm not!" she protested.
Morgan smirked and waggled his eyebrows. "Do you have a secret boyfriend?"
"What?" Emily said, laughing a little too forcefully. "No!"
He crossed his arms and waited. "You're seriously not gonna tell me?"
Emily leaned against the brick wall, rubbing her forehead. On the one hand, she was tired of keeping you–and herself–a secret. And if anyone was going to be supportive of someone on the team getting laid, it would be Morgan. But on the other, did she really know that much about him? She didn't know his religious background. Sure, he'd defend a gay victim, but that was his job. This was personal.
Emily sighed before replying. "I have... I have a secret girlfriend."
The silence felt like it lasted hours, stretching between them until Emily was sure the chasm would never close again, and that with just a few words, just by being herself, she'd ruined any chance of a friendship with Derek Morgan. It wouldn't be the first time. It probably wouldn't be the last.
Morgan seemed to think deeply before leaning against the wall next to Emily, turning to look her in the eye.
"Prentiss, why didn't you tell us you were gay?"
Emily was afraid to look at him, but when she did, her heart soared. He looked at her with nothing but love and respect and appreciation, no hint of hatred or disgust. If anything, he looked sad that she'd waited so long to tell him.
"I don't know," she shrugged. "I don't always get a good reaction."
"Well, you know nobody on this team would have a problem with that, right? Hell, Garcia'd probably hang pride flags everywhere."
"I know," Emily nodded. "I just... I don't think I'm ready yet. For everyone to know. Soon, though."
Morgan nodded, then thought for a few minutes before asking, "Is it serious?"
Emily chuckled. "Being gay? Yeah, I'd say so."
Morgan shoved her shoulder gently, mindful of the day's injuries. "No! The girl! How long have you been seeing her?"
"A little over six months."
"So, it's serious."
Emily grinned. She was glad to have someone to talk to about this. She'd held it so close for so long. She wasn't used to having anyone to tell about you. Maybe Morgan could be that person.
"Promise not to tell the others?"
Morgan put his hand over his heart. "Promise."
"I'd marry her tomorrow if she'd let me."
"Wow." Morgan raised his eyebrows, smiling lightly. "Prentiss is in love," he said, teasing her.
Emily fought a wide smile, but lost in the end. "Oh, shut up. And don't tell anyone. Especially her."
"Your secret's safe with me," Morgan reassured her. And she could tell he meant it. Emily trusted him, she realized. She trusted him to be a good friend, to keep her secrets. She trusted him not to out her to the rest of the team. He'd let her go at her own pace when it came to telling the others.
"She better be amazing," Morgan added. "I don't know how anyone could be good enough for you."
Just at that moment, a pair of headlights crept slowly into the parking lot, hesitant and unsure. It had to be you. Emily stepped forward and waved a bit, then turned to Morgan.
"Well, I'll see you tomorrow?" she said.
"Not with that head, you won't," Morgan observed.
You put the car in park next to the curb and leapt out of the driver's seat, hurrying over to Emily.
"Oh my god!" you exclaimed, anger and concern washing over you. "I thought you you said you were fine!"
You gingerly touched Emily's face and pulled her head down to examine the butterfly bandage above her eyebrow.
"Look at this," you grumbled, more to yourself than anyone else. "It's already bruising." You glared at the butterfly bandage. "Did a doctor do this or you? If it was you, I think we should clean it with rubbing alcohol at home."
Morgan looked absolutely delighted, both because you seemed like a delightful person and because Emily was beet red at being observed with you.
"Y/N, I'm fine," Emily said firmly, grasping your fingers in hers and removing them from her face. "This is my colleague Derek Morgan. Morgan, my girlfriend, Y/N."
You looked Morgan over and immediately decided you liked him. Mostly because you could tell that he really cared about Emily. But also because he looked mischievous, like he'd tease her. And if there was anything you loved, it was teasing Emily. You shook his hand enthusiastically. "It's really nice to meet you," you said. And you meant it.
But you didn't have time to chat with Morgan tonight. You were too worried about Emily.
"You don't look fine," you argued, looking to Morgan for backup. "Does she look fine to you?"
Morgan grinned at Emily, raising his eyebrows. "She definitely looks like she could use some TLC."
"Oh, and she'll get it alright," you assured him, opening the passenger door for Emily. "Shall we?"
Emily bent gingerly to get into the car, and you were careful to guard her head from the ceiling.
"Derek, it was really nice to meet you," you said, shaking his hand one more time for good measure as Emily rolled down the window, staring bullets at Morgan.
"You too, Y/N," he said, looking over your shoulder at Emily. "I hope you all have a very marry evening."
Emily pointed at him aggressively behind your back, mouthing, "SHUT. UP."
"See you, Prentiss," he called as you pulled away. He laughed and called out, "I hope it's a real honeymoon from work!"
Emily's hand shot out the window, flipping him off.
Later that night, your alarm buzzed and you blinked awake. You forgot for a moment that you were at Emily's, but her strong arms wrapped protectively around your waist were enough to remind you where you were.
You turned slowly to face a sleeping Emily, brushing her hair out of her face.
"Em. Hey. You gotta wake up, honey."
She groaned, placing a hand on her head.
"Sorry," you grimaced. "Gotta make sure your brain's alright."
"My brain is fine," she growled.
"Oh, yeah?" you joked, checking the time before shaking a few pills into your hand from the pill bottle on the nightstand. "Who am I, then?"
"The love of my life, Whitney Houston."
You laughed, which made Emily laugh, too. But she quickly doubled over in pain, groaning.
"Here, take these," you said gently, handing her the pills and a glass of water. "It'll help."
She took the pills obediently and lay back down.
"You know," you said, pulling up the blankets to make sure they covered Emily's shoulders. "I may not be Whitney Houston..." You wrapped your arms around her and drew her to you, and she burrowed her head into the space between your neck and your collarbone.
"But I think I'm a close second," you finished, running your fingers rhythmically through Emily's hair.
She sighed contentedly, pressing into you, then moving one of your arms to wrap it more tightly around her.
"Why are you so good to me?" she asked, quiet. You couldn't quite tell if it was a joke or serious, but you'd reply the same either way.
"Because I love you, you nerd."
She leaned up, planting a kiss underneath your chin. "I love you, too."
Within minutes she was conked out again, and you were setting another alarm, ready to do it all over again in a few hours.
#emily prentiss#emily prentiss x reader#criminal minds#bau#emily prentiss fanfiction#emily prentiss fluff#emily prentiss drabble
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Emily: Guys, look! I found a younger photo of Rossi!
Emily: *show a picture of Mario*
Rossi:
Rossi: What the fu--
#criminal minds#incorrect criminal minds quotes#criminal minds fandom#criminal minds fanfiction#criminal minds memes#incorrect quotes#criminal minds fic#incorrect criminal minds#emily prentiss imagine#emily prentiss#emily prentiss x you#emily prentiss x reader#emily prentiss fanfiction#david rossi#david rossi x reader
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these are emily's signature "fuck me" eyes
now imagine her looking at you like that
#emily prentiss#criminal minds#cm#paget brewster#hotchniss#jemily#emily prentiss fanfiction#emily prentiss smut
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i’m starvin’, darlin’
masterlist
emily prentiss x reader
18+: smut; emily has a penis, oral (r!receiving), masturbation, praise, facial, cum eating, fem petnames used
a/n: thank u to the anon who conjured this idea, hope this is enough to satisfy your slutty needs; title is from the song ‘eat your young’ by hozier
wc: 1.4k
You stood in the middle of your bedroom staring at your open wardrobe, you’d come home from work to change before meeting the remainder of the team for drinks and were frustrating yourself with your lack of decision making skills when it comes to an outfit.
You held two options in front of you as you looked in the mirror, hearing Emily click the lock of the bathroom door before she stepped into the room in only her jeans and a bra.
“Em, which one should I wear?” you asked her whilst she approached you from behind, not refraining from openly ogling every inch of your body she could see.
“Mm, either,” she murmured, resting her chin on your shoulder as her arms crept around you. “You look perfect in anything, sweetheart,” she breathed with her lips ghosting your neck.
“However far flattery gets you, it still doesn’t help me out,” you laughed, leaning your back against her as your belly swarmed at the open mouthed kisses she lay against your skin. “Babe, we don’t have time,” you added through a breathless voice, feeling heat wash all over you at the way her hands went wherever they pleased.
Fingertips stroked across your waist, creeping upwards until firm palms cupped your breasts. You chanced a look into the mirror hanging opposite you and almost lost your balance at the darkened eyes that stared back at you. Your girlfriend has never been shy to look at you, even before she finally claimed you as her own she wouldn’t look away when you’d catch her eyes on each curve of your body. She’s bold and she knows just what she wants and that mere fact alone makes your heart beat hard against your chest.
“You’re so perfect, pretty girl,” she whispered, swiping the tip of her tongue across the pulsepoint of your neck in a way that made you shudder.
“We’ve gotta leave soon,” you returned, watching the way her fingers pulled at your nipples through the padding of your bra, how her left hand crept its way downwards until it reached the waistband of your underwear.
“I can be quick,” she uttered, her voice deep and lusting. Strong hands pulled you to face her until you were pressed against her body, her hardening cock becoming apparent as it pushed against you through the denim of her jeans.
She pulled at your bottom lip between her teeth with her hot breath primal against you, and with the bluntness of her fingernails digging into your waist you were flush against her whilst her lips claimed yours in a kiss. It was heated and quick, fuelled by desperation and her primitive desire to taste you. Her tongue licked into your mouth as she guided you towards the bed; your head swarmed with Emily and the hands that pulled at your underwear.
The metal of her belt buckle clinked beneath your touch and once you’d rid her of her jeans, the bulge in her underwear was all you could focus on.
“Lie down, sweetheart,” she murmured against you, pushing you onto the mattress until your head lay against the pillows. With eyes glistening hungrily she observed you, the slit of your cunt already shining in arousal. She licked her lips at the sight, instantly pushing your thighs wide open with her arms holding you in place.
She pressed kisses to the soft skin of your inner thigh, sinking her teeth into the flesh with marks left behind whilst you peered down at her; dark hair tucked behind her ears with her head between your legs so ready to consume you as though she were starved.
“God, I could just devour you,” Emily rasped, swiping her tongue across your skin, climbing higher until the aroma of your heated sex was all she could focus on. Like she was parched and searching for satisfaction, she licked a stripe through your cunt as though it were the altar that gave her salvation.
A moan caught in the back of your throat at the way she hollowed out her cheeks with a determined suck to your clit, flicking the pointed end of her tongue over the swollen bud. She groaned against you at the taste, swallowing it down with delight while her hands grabbed at your thighs with the aim to leave behind bruises of possession.
You heard each fervent lick of her tongue, each sloppy kiss and suck, wet and raw as though she’d been denied the pleasure of your taste on her lips. And, with the pleasured sighs she pulled from you, the quiet of the room was soon filled.
Svelte digits slid into you with ease, curling effortlessly with a precision rehearsed over time until they pushed against the part of you that arched your back from the freshly laundered sheets underneath you.
Your hand tangled within her hair, nails scraping at her scalp and fist clenching with each wave of ecstasy that surged through you. The way you pulled at the dark locks elicited a sound almost akin to a growl from the woman between your legs and it only spurred her on, burying her fingers into your pussy with a desperate ache to pull you over the edge.
“C’mon, baby,” she breathed, lips nudging against your sensitive bud. “Lemme hear how good I make you feel.”
You glanced down to be met with her cocky smirk, eyes trained on yours whilst she continued her pace. With only a few more laps of her flattened tongue through your cunt, your walls clenched around her digits as the shocks of orgasm ran through you. The strength of her hands stopped your thighs from clamping together whilst she rode you through your high, swallowing each drop of your arousal that she could before she pulled away with wet lips.
She lifted herself onto her knees whilst your chest quickly rose and fell in search of breath and she looked down at you as though you were the most beautiful thing she had ever set her sights upon.
“Fuck, look what you do to me,” she breathed, pulling at her underwear to set her cock free from their restraints. The tip was shining with precum whilst she slid her hand along the thick length, swiping her thumb through the leaking head as she shuffled her way upwards until her knees were planted on either side of your waist.
Your hands reached up to squeeze her breasts beneath your palms and she leaned down for a kiss, letting you taste yourself on the tongue that fought against yours. And, while slow and lust-filled kisses were shared, her hand stayed between your bodies dragging along the throbbing dick that pressed against your torso.
She grunted into your mouth at the heat flowing through her, the impending orgasm quickly approaching with each twitch of her hips into her palm.
“You drive me crazy,” she stuttered out through breaths that were growing faster, sitting back until her thighs pressed against her calves and your eyes were zeroed in on the fast hand wrapped around her dick. “Jus’ sit back and look pretty, sweet girl,” she murmured, watching as you bit your lip, writhing beneath her with the throbbing between your legs. You knew this would have to continue later tonight - there was no way you could endure the entire evening without another taste of what she gives you.
Her hips stuttered into her hand with each mumble of admiration thrown your way until hot, white spurts of cum leaked from the head of her cock. You felt it land against your cheek and she only smirked down at you whilst she painted your skin with her cum, milking herself of all she could give until she could admire the drops against your face. You licked it from your bottom lip as Emily continued slow strokes against her cock, riding herself through the pleasure, eyeing each bead of her seed that lay across your face.
“Always such a messy girl, hm?” she teased, swiping her fingers through her cum on your face before forcing them past your lips. “Swallow it all down, baby,” she added in a murmur, fucking her fingers into your mouth whilst your tongue licked them clean so you could consume all that she fed you.
“Em, I was almost ready to leave,” you pouted once she pulled away with her digits coated in your saliva.
“Then, let's get you cleaned up,” she laughed. “But, don’t think for a second that I’m done with you.”
#emily prentiss#emily prentiss x reader#emily prentiss x fem!reader#emily prentiss fanfiction#emily prentiss smut#criminal minds
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Glissade
(glis·sade) Noun. A gliding step in ballet
She was grateful that her mother showed up for the kids, but she couldn’t pretend it didn’t hurt. That she didn’t feel jealous that Elizabeth could do for her grandchildren what she’d never been able to do for her. It made her ache. Made her feel like the little girl she’d once been, standing in a room a little too similar to this one, waiting for her mother to arrive.
-x-
Hi friends,
This was literally inspired by a tiktok I saw of a little girl smiling when she saw her mum in the crowd at a recital. Of course, it couldn't just be straight up fluff...so the mommy issues got involved.
I feel like everyone should know that @cloudlessly-light massively encouraged this as she sat on my couch this weekend haha
As always, please let me know what you think!
-x-
Words: 3.1k
Warnings: None
Read over on Ao3, or below the cut
April 1976
She peeks through the curtain separating the stage from the audience. She presses her lips together as she desperately looks for a familiar face in the sea of parents sitting and chatting as they wait for the dance recital to start. The sick feeling deep in her stomach she’d been feeling all afternoon gets worse as she doesn’t see her mom - an empty seat where she should be standing out in the crowd.
“Emily, sweetie,” Mrs Stockton says, her hand on Emily’s back as she crouches next to her. Emily turns to look at her, her eyebrows furrowing as her tummy ache worsens, “We need to get started.”
Emily swallows thickly, her eyes burning as her vision goes blurry, tears she knew her mom would be mad at her for gathering at her lashline, “But my Mommy isn’t here yet.”
She said she’d come. Emily had asked her every day for the last week if she would be here and she’d said yes, she’d promised that she’d come.
“Your Mommy called,” Mrs Stockton says, her smile kind as she tucks some of Emily’s hair behind her ear, a stray strand having escaped the tight bun she’d put it in for her when she arrived, “She got caught up with work. She said Mr Wright, your driver, will pick you up when we’re done.”
It takes a second for her teacher's words to sink in, and her chest feels tight, the rolling in her stomach all morning rushing upwards and for a moment she thinks she’s going to be sick. She swallows it back down, not wanting to throw up in front of her classmates, their whispers to each other as they watch Mrs Stockton talk to her loud despite how she tries to ignore them.
“But…she promised.”
Mrs Stockton sighs sympathetically, “I know she did sweetie,” she says, “I’m sorry.”
Emily nods and wipes a tear from her cheek as it falls, knowing what her mom would say if she was here. She’d tell her she shouldn’t cry, that Prentiss’s were strong - whatever that meant. She’d only ever seen her mom cry once, although she was sure she hadn’t seen her. It was just after Emily had seen her dad for the last time a few months ago. She’d had a nightmare and tried to find her mom and eventually sought her out in her office. She’d stopped when she was in the doorway, her fist still lifted to knock, because she always had to knock, when she heard crying.
She’d walked back to her room, her favourite stuffed animal still hanging from her hand, and decided to look after herself. Something that she thinks she’ll have to start doing a lot more of.
“Okay,” Emily says, forcing a smile, one she’d always been told looked exactly like her mother’s, “I’m ready.”
___
“We’re late.”
Aaron has to stop himself from sighing, well aware that his wife was on edge and that anything was liable to push her over it. Ever since they’d woken up that morning she’d been anxious, a tension in her shoulders visible from the second she’d climbed out of bed. It was something only their children could bring out in her, a constant fear that she was letting them down forever lingering under her skin. She would practically vibrate with it, doubt in her abilities as a mother never far away. He hated that she doubted herself, that she couldn’t see what he could. That she was the centre of their children’s worlds. That Jack, Violet and Benjamin all sought her out at any given opportunity, never tiring of the unrelenting love she has for them.
He briefly looks at her hands, at the way she twists her rings around her finger - a nervous habit that had long since replaced picking at her cuticles, and he feels his heart ache for her. He swallows the sigh, covering it by clearing his throat, and he reaches over the centre console to squeeze Emily’s thigh, smiling when she immediately places her hand over his, linking their fingers together as she tries to draw comfort from him.
“We’re not late, sweetheart,” he assures her, raising their joint hands to kiss her knuckles before he lets go of her hand to place it back on the steering wheel, “We’ll be there before it starts.”
She hums absentmindedly and looks over her shoulder to the back of the car, her anxiety slipping away for a moment as she watches Benjamin in his car seat. His tiny hands and one of his feet visible from where he’s facing the back of the car - the 10-month-old’s love of taking his shoes off at any given opportunity well known. She reaches back and touches his hand, smiling when he starts to babble and wraps his fist around one of her fingers.
“You excited to watch your sister dance, sweet boy?” She asks, her smile getting wider when his babbling gets louder, “Me too,” she says before she turns back to face the front of the car, her hand back in her lap. She feels her stomach twist when she checks her watch again, the minutes slipping by far too quickly for her liking, “She has to know we’re there, Aaron. It’s her first dance recital.”
Violet had been excited about it for weeks. She’d talked non-stop about the recital, practising at any given opportunity, her brows furrowed together as she tried to remember the routine her dance teacher had taught her. She’d reminded them that morning before they left for work and they’d promised they’d be there, that she’d be able to see them in the crowd, and she’d smiled so widely just the memory of it made Emily ache.
“We’re almost there, Em,” he says, briefly looking at her before he’s focusing on the road again, “Just another couple of minutes.”
She huffs out a breath and rests her head back against the headrest, closing her eyes for a second as she tries to centre herself, “I know you probably think I’m being ridiculous-”
“Never,” he replies sincerely, forcing a smile to pass across her face as she shakes her head at him, looking at him through the side of her eyes before she carries on.
“But my mom never came to this kind of thing. And…I just want to do better,” she smiles sadly at him, avoiding his eye contact by looking in the back of the car again, her eyes fixed on Benjamin as he works to take off his other shoe, “I never want them to know how it feels to not have us in the room with them, you know?”
Not for the first time, and he knows not for the last, irritation aimed at his mother-in-law licks through him, his grip on the steering wheel tightening ever so slightly. He knew most, if not all, of Emily’s insecurity about being a mother, came from what her relationship with Elizabeth looked like. She’d told him once, shortly after they found out Violet was a girl, that she was worried she wouldn’t be any good at raising a daughter. She’d stared at her lap, tears burning in her eyes as she quietly admitted to him she was convinced that something was missing in her, that her own mother’s lack of a maternal nature was genetic. A cycle she was sure she’d never be able to escape.
He wished he could have shown her then where she was now, how she was their 4-year-old’s favourite person in the entire world. How Violet would beam the second she’d see Emily, her smile wide as she’d run over to her and fling herself into her arms.
“I know,” he replies reaching for her hand and squeezing it again, “We are doing better,” he assures her, “Did your mom ever confirm if she was coming today?”
Emily laughs humourlessly and shakes her head, relief washing over her as they finally pull into the school’s parking lot, “No. I didn’t tell Vi that I invited her, that way she can’t be disappointed if she doesn’t show up,” she says, barely waiting for him to turn off the car’s engine before she’s out of it, rounding the car to get Benjamin. She smiles widely at him as she opens the door and unbuckles him, “There’s my sweet barefoot boy.”
She presses several kisses on his cheek as she lifts him into her arms, the giggle he releases one of her favourite sounds in the world. She kisses him one more time before she hands him over to Aaron, her smile impossibly wider at the sight of them together.
“Mom!”
She turns just in time to see Jack running towards her, his arms out-stretched as he hugs her, “Hi honey,” she replies, smiling at Jessica as she walks towards them, “Have you been here long?”
“We just got here,” Jessica says, “You guys made good time.”
Aaron chokes on a laugh, the sound breaking free from his chest before he can stop it, and Emily turns to look at him, her eyes narrowed as she points at him.
“Not a word.”
Aaron smiles and nods, exchanging an amused look with Jessica before he nods towards the school, “We should go in. Find some seats.”
Emily hums and wraps her arm around Jack’s shoulders, squeezing him closer as they walk in tandem. He’s telling her about his day, enthusiastically filling her in about what he’d learned at school and the fun he and his friends had at recess, when she spots a familiar face in the school hall, leaving her frozen in place.
“Mother?”
Elizabeth smiles and stands up from her seat in the front row, waving them over to the empty seats next to her, “Emily, Aaron - I saved you all some seats.”
Emily falters a little bit, rooted to the spot until she feels the warmth of Aaron’s chest against her back and Benjamin’s tiny fingers tangling in her hair. She clears her throat and walks over to her mother, casting a glance over her shoulder at her husband, grateful for the assurance she felt whenever he was near.
“Mother, hi,” she says, leaning in to stamp a kiss against her mother’s cheek as she hugs her, “I didn’t realise you were coming.”
She scoffs as she briefly hugs Emily before she pulls Jack into a hug, “I wouldn’t miss this for the world,” she says, as if it’s obvious, as if she doesn’t have a track record of missing this exact kind of thing, “I got here early so we could sit in the front row.”
Emily nods, her lips pressed tightly together as she clears her throat, pushing the hurt and repressed anger she’d been hiding for years down into her gut, “Well, I know Vi will appreciate it.”
“Will everyone please take their seats, we are about to begin.”
The teacher’s voice cuts across any other conversation, and after a rushed greeting between Elizabeth, Jessica and Aaron they all take their seats. Emily sits with Jack on one side of her and Aaron on the other, Benjamin pressed between the two of them, his fingers tangled in her shirt even though he’s still in Aaron’s arms. She can feel her mother’s gaze burning into her side. The sensation was achingly familiar and she does her best to ignore it.
She was grateful that her mother showed up for the kids, but she couldn’t pretend it didn’t hurt. That she didn’t feel jealous that Elizabeth could do for her grandchildren what she’d never been able to do for her. It made her ache. Made her feel like the little girl she’d once been, standing in a room a little too similar to this one, waiting for her mother to arrive.
Everyone applauds when the kids walk out on stage, all nervous and some of them slightly unsteady on their feet. Emily immediately spots Violet and she can see just how anxious her little girl is, her teeth sinking into her lower lip as she looks at the crowd clearly seeking her out. It’s obvious the moment Violet spots her. Her face lights up, her shoulders loosen as she immediately relaxes, her smile wide as she waves at Emily.
Emily waves back, pride and love overwhelming her as she blows out a shaky breath, tears she doesn’t entirely understand making her vision blur. She jumps slightly when Aaron places his hand on her leg and she looks up at him, her smile soft as their eyes meet and she sees the same proud tears shining right back at her.
___
“Okay, sweet girl,” Emily says, tucking Violet’s bedding around her, “It’s time to go to sleep.”
Violet smiles sleepily at her, her usual attempts at fighting bedtime nowhere to be found, “Today was fun.”
Emily hums and runs her fingers through Violet’s hair, “It was nice, huh?” She says, “You did so good baby.”
“Thanks, Mommy.”
She stands up and kisses Violet’s forehead, “You’re welcome,” she kisses her forehead again, “You get some sleep, okay? You know where Daddy and I are if you need us.”
She nods and wraps her arms around her favourite toy, “Love you, Mama.”
“Love you too, Vi,” she replies, taking a moment to watch her from the doorway before she switches out the light and steps out into the hallway. She jumps when she almost immediately walks into Elizabeth, her hand over her heart as she gasps, “Jesus, Mother. What are you doing up here?”
“Jack asked me to put him to bed,” she replies, her arms crossed over her chest, “I don’t get a chance to do it often so I said I would. Where’s Aaron?”
“He’s on Benny duty tonight,” Emily says as she starts to walk towards the stairs, “He doesn’t like to fall asleep alone so Aaron will be there for a while,” she smiles when her mother laughs politely, “Thank you for coming today - and for staying for dinner. I know it meant a lot to Vi.”
“Of course I came,” Elizabeth nods as they head into the kitchen and Emily goes to the fridge to get out some wine, “She’s my granddaughter.”
Emily scoffs, unable to stop herself, her nerves shot after a long day. She was so happy for Violet that she had so many people in her life, that they’d filled half a row and been sat right there as she danced slightly out of beat with the music, but she was also jealous. Jealous that she’d never had anyone - not even one person sitting there to cheer her along. It felt wrong and made her feel like the worst mother in the world, but she couldn’t help it. It felt like a rock low and heavy in her belly, forcing her to say something she’d usually keep to herself.
“Well, I’m your daughter,” she says, shaking her head as she pours wine into two glasses, “And it never stopped you from missing my recitals.”
Elizabeth gasps, a brief moment where her usual mask of never being affected by anything slips, “Emily.”
She sighs, her eyes closed as she presses her palms against the kitchen counter, the cool marble of it resetting her brain, somehow making her feel worse. Her mother had never been what she’d needed, what she’d wanted, but she knew she loved her. That sometimes made it worse, made the indifference she occasionally felt from the person who should love her the most hurt even more, but she knew Elizabeth had done her best. Even though it had never been enough.
“Mom, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t-”
“No, Emily. I’m sorry,” Elizabeth says, her smile tight as she cuts over her. Emily frowns, her eyebrows knitting together as she stumbles over her words for a second, the apology from Elizabeth the last thing she’d expected.
“Wh…what?”
“I saw the look on Violet’s face when she spotted you in the crowd,” Elizabeth says, her arms crossed over her chest, “She lit up,” her smile turns sad, “We’ve never had that and I know thats my fault. I should have…” she clears her throat, “If I could go back I’d make some different choices. It’s why I’m doing my best to make different ones now.”
Emily stares at her, her mouth hanging open ever so slightly as she tries to figure out how to respond. It didn’t fix or change anything. It didn’t undo the years of hurt and resentment, how they had led her to make so many choices she couldn’t unmake, but it was something. An acknowledgement she hadn’t realised she’d needed, and one she certainly never thought she’d get.
“Thank you,” she says, not sure what else she could say, “That’s…thank you.”
The moment ends as quickly as it began when Aaron walks into the room, “He finally fell asleep.”
“Good,” Emily says, turning to look at him, “I’m glad.”
“I’m going to go sit down,” Elizabeth says, smiling softly at Emily as she picks up her glass of wine, and if she didn’t know any better, if it wasn’t entirely out of character for her mother, Emily would be sure she was purposefully giving her a moment with her husband, “I’ll see you in a minute.”
Emily nods and watches her go, her throat tight as she stands frozen in place. She only moves when Aaron places a hand on her shoulder, his eyebrows pulled together in concern when she looks up at him.
“You okay, sweetheart?”
She blows out a breath and shrugs, “I don’t know.”
He wraps his arms around her and tugs her into a hug. She presses herself against him, her face against his neck as she settles into him, into the comfort he always provided.
“Want to talk about it?”
She shakes her head, “Not yet.”
“Okay,” he replies, kissing the top of her head and rubbing a comforting hand up and down her back. He changes the subject, well aware that whatever he’d walked in on was something she’d need to process herself before she spoke to him about it, “Vi did so good today.”
She smiles so widely he can feel it against his neck and she nods, “Yeah,” she replies, leaning back to look up at him, “She’s amazing.”
He stamps a kiss against her lips and cups the back of her head, holding her in place so he can rest his forehead against hers, “Just like her mom.”
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#aaron hotchner#hotchniss fanfic#aaron hotchner fanfiction#aaron hotchner x emily prentiss#emily prentiss#emily prentiss fanfiction#aaron x emily#hotchniss#hotchniss fanfiction#hotchniss fan fic
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August || Chapter Four
Pairing: Fem!Reader x Spencer Reid, fem!reader x Emily Prentiss
Description: After you and Emily leave the office for lunch together, you two enjoy each other’s company.
Content/Warnings: Pure fluff, flirting, developing feelings, kissing
WC: 1.6K
Chapter Five will come out whenever this one gets 450 notes, just like I did for this chapter!
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The elevator door was soon opening in front of you, the arguing in the bullpen being unheard as you and Emily were soon walking through the open doors. “I’m glad we’ve been hanging out a lot more.” You broke the silence, a smile gracing your features.
“Me too. I can’t believe it took us this long to spend time together like this. It’s been nice.” Emily smiled in return while letting an arm wrap around your shoulders.
For the first time in a while, you felt content. You didn’t feel the need to push everyone away and close yourself off from the world. All you needed was the extra support and reassurance.
“It’s gonna be nice to get out of the office. It’s a nice day out. Maybe we can find somewhere with an outside dining area?” She suggested while glancing in your direction once the doors of the elevator were opening up to the parking garage, the two of you heading to Emily’s car together.
“I think that sounds perfect. Be careful, Prentiss. I may get used to being spoiled.” You teased while looking in her direction.
“I think I can handle it if it comes down to that.” She teased in return. “It’ll just give me an excuse to take you out more.”
The words had your face flushing as you offered a smile. “You shouldn’t need an excuse!” You mused while getting into the passenger seat of her car. You felt so.. Cared for. Emily had done a great job at offering the utmost support for you in your endeavors to get over the loss of two friendships.
She never let you lose yourself in the process, offering a shoulder to cry on at any time. It was her kindness and affection that made you grow into the person you’d become.
The drive was peaceful, some light conversation over minor things going on around you, both accompanied with the soft music playing from the radio. It was comfortable, something that you’d grown accustomed to feeling with Emily. Part of you felt like she was doing it to be a good friend. The other part had you swooning over the possibility of her being interested in you.
You knew better than to just assume after the Spencer debacle that threw you in for a loop, but it was nice to just sit back and be able to think about the endless possibilities that could come from this. You didn’t need anyone to be happy, but you always liked the idea of settling with someone you cared for.
You knew you were thinking way too far ahead in this instance, however you didn’t let it deter you from continuing to dream over a possible love story.
The arrival at the small cafe in downtown Quantico was what pulled you from your thoughts, your eyes looking out the window to see the colorful umbrellas over a few tables outside. “It’s not fine dining but..” Emily began before you were shaking your head.
“I think it’s perfect.”
With a smile on your face, you were opening your door and getting out of the car. There was a sigh of content coming from you as you could feel the warmth of the sun hitting your skin. The weather was just yet another indicator that today was going to be a good day.
For the first time in a while, you weren’t thinking of Spencer. Instead, you were focused on Emily, on feeling appreciated by someone who was close to you.
Emily had pulled the door open for you, letting you walk in ahead of her as you approached the front desk. After requesting a table outside, the hostess was more than happy to walk you both into the patio section, placing two menus on the table.
“This feels too fancy. Sitting outside like this might’ve been too much.” Emily joked, the both of you chuckling. “How have you been feeling lately?” She then asked, picking up the menu in front of her to look over her options with a soft hum.
“I’ve been alright. Mostly focused on work. Oh! But I am thinking about getting a cat. Pen has been mentioning how lonely old man Sergio is so I might have to get a kitten to keep the old man on his toes.” You teased. “Plus, a cat playdate is probably the cutest thing I’ve thought about all year.”
“So you haven’t been thinking about me then? I’m hurt!” The woman let out a dramatic sigh as her hand rested against her chest. “I thought what we had was special.”
“You’ve always had a flair for the dramatics, haven’t you?” You commented, flashing an amused smile.
“Maybe.. It’s easier to get attention that way. Extra attention when it comes to you.” She teased as she was placing her menu on the table. “A cat will keep you busy though, trust me. I remember when I had Sergio home with me, he was a wild child. Still probably the only man I ever needed though.” She laughed.
“At least he didn’t talk back, right?” You added on, letting out a laugh of your own.
Talking with Emily eased your mind on a lot of things. You had assumed she had some verbal crack sprinkled into your conversations, making you want to talk with her all day and all night. You could’ve sworn you had withdrawals when you were apart for too long, like the weekends without cases.
Lunch went smoothly, just lighthearted conversation and some good laughs. Instead of feeling trapped in your own thoughts, you were sitting there talking and laughing, letting loose and growing increasingly more comfortable. It was a shame you had to go back to work after though.
Whenever the two of you were leaving the restaurant, you were getting settled into the passenger seat while Emily was starting the drive back to the office.
It made you wonder about what happened back in the bullpen, if there were any more snide comments made by either Spencer or JJ. Then again, it had been a while since they had even glanced in your direction, well; you thought that way. You knew you couldn’t hold on to that anger forever, but you had to admit; it was slipping away much slower than you would’ve liked.
In a way, you were just glad that you didn’t need to worry about it. On the other hand, you missed your friends. That’s what they were before all of this and now the title was stripped and you were left with two acquaintances.
You dreaded the idea of letting them go entirely. Even with anger for JJ and Spencer, you did still care about them. It was hard not to, especially after knowing them for so many years. You still thought about the inside jokes, stories, even poking fun at one another. The time spent along them made you into the person who you were. You just never expected for things to do a somersault in the way that they did.
“Are you alright over there?” Emily broke the silence, noticing the way you were deep in thought. “You know you can talk to me.”
“Yeah, yeah. I’m okay. Just thinking of how it’s gonna be back at the office. I really don’t want to go back and do paperwork.” You groaned, offering a smile.
Emily didn’t buy that excuse. “Are you sure? You looked pretty out of it and you’re not even like that on the hardest of cases. Talk to me.”
God damn it. You should’ve known that the profiler in the driver’s seat would know better.
“I’m just worried about my friendship with Spencer and JJ. I know I’ve acted like a fool for months over that whole situation but.. They are still my friends, well, they were. I don’t wanna lose them entirely, but what if I have to?”
“You don’t have to lose them. You’re a good person, that’s why you care. I think in time, friendships can be mended and things can go back to seminormal.” She assured, her hand reaching over to rest on your knee.
It was a simple touch, but it made your face feel hot as you looked out the passenger side window. “I’m sure it will, but it still scares me.” You sighed while placing one of your hands over Emily’s. “Thanks for listening and reassuring me.” You added, making the woman shrug as she was turning into the parking garage before approaching her spot, her hand pulling away from yours as she was pulling in.
“You don’t have to thank me. It’s what I’m here for, you know that. You’re not a baby for having feelings, remember that. Emotions make you human.” The words were further reassurance. She really knew just what to say.
The two of you were heading back to the elevator together, hopping on as you hit the button for the floor you needed. “Lunch today was fun. Definitely a great way to celebrate us finishing paperwork.” You teased as you turned back to Emily, the woman playfully nudging your arm.
“You’re getting it next time. I hope you know that.”
“Fine.” You groaned in a dramatic fashion, glancing at the woman with a smile.
There was a content silence between the both of you, although there was another presence in the elevator. A light tension that you couldn’t quite place.
While you were deep in your thoughts trying to figure out the warmth washing over the both of you, Emily was putting her hand gently against your cheek, the delicate touch making you blink back to reality. Before you knew it, that tension was dissolving as you felt a soft pair of lips pressing against yours. The kiss felt so right.
Although as soon as the doors were opening, you were both quickly pulling away from each other at the sounds of a mug shattering on the floor.
“What the fuck?” Spencer's voice echoed through the hall.
#strawbeerossi august series#criminal minds fanfiction#criminal minds fanfic#spencer reid angst#spencer reid series#spencer reid imagine#spencer reid scenario#spencer reid fanfic#spencer reid fanfiction#doctor spencer reid#dr spencer reid#spencer reid fic#spencer reid au#emily prentiss fandom#emily prentiss x female reader#emily prentiss fic#emily prentiss fanfiction#
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hi love! i'd like to req emily smut, maybe a little more on the rough side if you'd be comfortable with that, where she gets jealous over reader and shows that through sex
if you want something less vague, it could be when reader brings emily lunch to her office and morgan keeps flirting with her, leading to some action in emily's office
I'll be doing these two together cause why not. I hope you don't mind! thanks for requesting, and I hope you liked it!!
jealousy - Emily Prentiss x fem!reader
summary: see the asks, it's a mix of both, it kind of took a turn, but i hope you still enjoy it!
tw: jealousy, a very poor try at dom Emily, fingering, breast play?, idk tws are so hard once you've finished writing🥲, i think that's it lmk if i'm missing smth
a/n: no idea if there's a way for me to link both asks here, someone lmk if there is
It's only 8.00 am when you enter the police station, two bodies in the past 12 hours required the early hours, everyone had to be focused, your mind had to be only in one place. However, this wasn't the case for all the people on that room.
The local police officer at the head of the case had some other things in his mind.
He starts by boldly checking you out, looks at you up and down, stopping and staring at the short tank top you were wearing, which makes you uncomfortable enough to cover yourself with your arms as much as you can.
The look your girlfriend sends to him doesn't go unnoticed to you, you start to believe she will set him on fire just with her stare, she places herself covering your body to shake his hand, which she gripes a bit too harder than the usual.
If you didn't know her any better, you would say she is jealous.
But there was just no way, right? Emily Prentiss doesn't get jealous, she's too confident for that, she has you so well wrapped around her finger, she doesn't need to be jealous. Right?
─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───
"so you think this... unsub like you call him, could be on a killing spree because of his mother?" the agent asks you, staring at the last picture you just sticked to the board with a puzzled look.
"we're positive, we've seen this modus before, it's a clear pattern" you explain
"ugh, so talking about mommy issues" you can't help the little snicker that scapes your lips.
He looks triumphant, fully believes he's got you under his spell. He couldn't be more wrong.
The familiar hand that slides behind you on your lower back makes you jump, Emily comes around you, standing closer than she usually does.
"hey, what were you talking about?" she asks, tilting her head.
"oh, nothing just the case" you say, unbothered.
"just the case huh?" you turn your head to see how she's staring at him, as he walks away from you both.
"Em? what is it?" you ask suspicoisly.
"nothing, i just don't understand, what could be so funny if you were just talking about the case..." she says sarcastically
"oh my god" you try to keep your voice down, but the excitement is still noticeable "oh my god, Emily, you're jealous!"
"what? What do you mean I'm jealous?" her voice a couple octaves higher, making it so obvious to you she's lying.
"that's not even a real answer!" you say.
"ugh..." she lets out one of those little sounds she always makes when she knows she's been caught, you think it's adorable.
"ok, so maybe... maybe I just... don't like the way he looks at my girlfriend, so sue me!" she tries defending herself, but you couldn't take it seriously for your life, you find it adorable, the slight pink tinting her cheeks, her reassuring hand still resting on your lower back.
"Emily, c'mon, you know i love you" you kiss her cheek, she kisses you back but still doesn't look so convinced.
The thing is, you could not be any less attracted to that man, there was no way in the world you would find his flirting any appealing, but the idea of teasing Emily sounds too exciting.
A little fun never hurt anyone, right?
─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───
"...hellooo, earth to Prentiss?"
Morgan waves a hand in front of Emily’s face and she’s brought back to reality.
"what?" she asks.
"i said, could you please put your frown away, you're scaring Reid" Spencer doesn't even hear the comment, too focused on the case file to even pay attention to the conversation that was taking place right beside him.
"my frown is just where it has to be, thank you" she says raising an eyebrow at that.
Derek gives a scoff, and Rossi chuckles at the whole stupidity of the situation. “If y/n can’t feel your stare burning a hole in her back, when she turns and sees you, she’s sure gonna think you're planning a murder.”
"i might just be" she mutters
"I think I know what's going on" Rossi intervenes "she isn't looking at y/n" he explains pointing at you "I think someone might be jealous"
You are only a few feet away, discussing your last findings with the detective, trying to laugh at every little thing he says, making sure Emily is watching.
"I'm not jealous" she defends "she is so clearly not interested, but what if she needs me to step in?" her attempt to make up a good excuse isn't good enough for any of them to buy it
"if that helps you, but all i can hear is jealousy" a big, cocky smile spread on Morgan's face, it's only making her angrier
"c'mon, or we will too have to face the consequences of the territorial monster of jealousy when it explodes" Rossi says, dragging Morgan away
"yeah, mark your territory" Morgan laughs, while Emily gives him the finger "go get her lover!"
It's your loud chuckle that draws the line for her. When you finally get away from the persistent officer, you turn to see Emily isn't there anymore, taking your phone you see 2 new message from her.
From Em💕: you better knock your shit off baby.
From Em💕: That's it. You're so in for it later.
That one makes your heart throb, it shortly makes you wonder if you had taken it too far. This was not gonna end well for you.
─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───
Hotch decides to call it for the day, sending you off to start fresh in the morning, when a male voice you had heard enough already, calls your name
"Agent, I was wondering if you would be in for a drink with me?" he asks, eyeing you up and down yet again.
You are so sure you would find it just as disgusting if you weren't so gay, and so in love with your girlfriend.
"oh, sorry but no, actually, I-" a much more familiar female voice interrupts you "she's with me" Emily says.
He can't believe his eyes, Emily wraps her arm around your waist pulling you close to her body "hi babe" she says, kissing your lips, you return the kiss, a bit amused at her jealousy, but loving the possessiveness she was showing.
"Sorry, you were saying?" she asks, the man still open-mouthed, he can't bring himself to even speak.
"nothing... ugh, good night, agents" he dismisses you, and walks away defeated.
Emily and you head out of the bullpen, her arm still securely wrapped around your waist, she slides her hand on your back pocket, grabbing a handful of your ass possessively, making you chuckle.
"wanna talk about it?" you ask her innocently
"oh we are gonna be doing a bit more than talking you and me"
─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───
Emily doesn't even leave time for the door to close, and you have a split second to register your thoughts before she closes the door and walks over in one long stride and slams you into the wall.
Her mouth attacks yours in a hungry, desperate kiss, her tongue invading in a fight for dominance, that you just let her win, she is determined to have her way with you, and you aren't going to stop her.
She wasted no time in getting her hands on you, roughly rubbing her hands over your exposed skin. You, however, delicately placed your arms around her neck and when you both pulled apart to breathe.
"what's wrong, Em?" you ask her, breathlessly
"you know what? For starters, I didn't like the way he was looking at you" she starts, her breath warm against your skin, she lowers her head getting your neck, kissing it so sweetly you feel you could melt
she is quick to find your pulse point, mouth-opened kisses all over your skin, she nips all over your spot, which makes you moan
"but then imagine my surprise when i saw you, flirting back" her hand finds her way underneath your shirt, reaching for your breast, she finds no more resistance as you aren't wearing a bra, your other nipple peaking through your shirt in excitement.
She uses her free hand to grip your ass, you jump at the feeling whimpering on her mouth, her closeness only making you more excited.
"but you don't like him, do you, baby?" she asks, teasing you, she leaves a soft kiss on your lips
"he wouldn't stand a chance, we both know men aren't really your type" Emily says lowly, nipping at the tender spot behind your ear.
She slips her leg between yours, a soft moan escapes your lips.
"so you just wanted to make me jealous" you're too deep in her dominance to even register anything, letting out soft whimpers every time her thumb brushes against the nub and grips the soft skin of your breast
"god... Emily" you let out, as Emily pulls your thighs apart with her hand.
"you know, baby, if you wanted me to fuck you, you could've just asked" she attacks your neck again, sucking hard enough to leave purple marks you couldn't care any less about now.
Emily presses her fingertips against the crotch of your jeans "your clothes. Take them off or I'll rip them off" she commands, taking a step back from you, leaving too little space to maneuver.
You knew better than to tease her when she was like this. A shiver of excitement runs through your back, and you comply.
You take your jeans off then, your shirt, quickly throwing them somewhere far on the room.
You move to kiss her again, grabbing her by the waist and pulling her in for a kiss, but she doesn't let you, instead she grabs you by your thighs, lifting you up.
You wrap your legs around her waist, she carries you to bed, laying you down just harshly enough to make you even more excited for whats to come.
"you are gonna do exactly what i ask you to tonigh, you know why, baby?" you hold your breath, you're not sure if she actually wants you to answer, but you try nonetheless "because I'm yours"
Your answer seems to satisfy her, as she begins kissing her way down your body, taking special care to nip at your collarbone and stomach to leave more marks than the one's on your neck.
The soft cloth of her shirt rubs against your skin and as if just now realising she was still dressed, you grab the hem of her shirt and help her take it off, throwing it somewhere in the vicinity of the room, like you had done with your own clothes.
And not a moment later, she is back to kissing your body, stopping suddenly when she reached the hemline of your underwear.
Her hand navigates down them, she dips low enough to collect your arousal on her fingertips before rubbing your clit forcefully. Your body reacts immediately, curling forward. "Em!" you moan
"what's wrong baby? Cat got your tongue? use your words, if you want me to stop the teasing, just say it"
"fuck...Em, please, I'm yours, please Emily, yours" you confirm, closing your eyes and letting your hips rock against her hand.
“Who are you this wet for?” Emily demands, nipping at your earlobe.
"just you" you whimper, desperation starting to build in your lower stomach
"that's right baby" the cocky smile on her lips makes your eyes roll. You obviously loved slow, romantic love making with your grilfriend, but you'd be lying if you said you didn't love this side of her just as much.
She continued to move her fingers inside of you and you met each thrust but you almost fell apart when she pressed her thumb against your clit and rubbed hard.
She uses her free hand to play with your breast, you let out a gasp when her tongue moves over it spurred you on and she begins to gently suck on it while her hand still caressed your other breast.
You melt into the mattress at her words. "let go, c'mon baby, I got you" you cum on the spot, as she fucks you through your orgasm, she let's you ride your high.
Emily lays down beside you as you come down from the climax, she kisses your lips softly, lovingly this time, less urgent.
"you know i didn't mean any of it right? I was just playing with you, i love you. He didn't stand a chance" you try to clarify
"yes baby, i know, i love you too, i wasn't so harsh with you right?" she asks concerned. Sometimes you can't believe how Emily's mood changes so fast, from all dominating, incredibly sexy, to concerned, soft girlfriend.
"Em, it was perfect" you say, grabbing her face and pecking her lips "you are perfect" you kiss her again.
"well, good, because we're just getting started, i'm not sure you've learned your lesson yet" she grins.
"Like i said, I'm all yours, agent Prentiss" she sits to straddle you, and you grab her face to pull her in for another kiss.
Emily caresses your neck with her thumb, looking at the purple marks she had previously left "this will be hard to cover tomorrow"
"who says I'm covering them?"
─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───
Sitting on your usual spot on the plane, you lay behind Emily's amr, resting your head on her shoulder as she reads.
You aren't oblivious of the look on Morgan's face, right in front of you.
The shirt you chose had your neck and cleavage all on display, small and big purple marks cover your skin.
He stares bluntly at you, a cheeky smile covering his face "So y/n, looks like you and Prentiss had yourselves a good night. Care to share?"
Emily gives him the finger.
"in your dreams" you say.
─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───
wow! a lot longer than i expected it to be! finishing this one gave me a headache so please like and reblog if you liked it, and as always feedback is greatly appreciated! <333 reqs still open as always!
#emily prentiss#wlw#criminal minds x reader#emily prentiss imagine#lesbian#emily prentiss lesbian#lesbian pride#wlw fanfic#wlw smut#emily prentiss fanfiction#emily prentiss fluff#emily prentiss smut#emily prentiss x you#criminal minds#criminal minds fanfic#emily prentiss x y/n#criminal minds x you#emily prentiss x reader smut#emily prentiss x female reader#criminal minds smut#emily prentiss wlw#emily prentiss oneshot#Emily Prentiss x reader#emily prentiss headcanons
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༉‧´ˎ˗ pairing; emily prentiss x fem!reader
༉‧´ˎ˗ summary; Derek and Emily are the last to get back to the hotel. Derek kicks Emily out for the sake of his ‘beauty sleep’, and she’s left to have to share a room (and bed) with reader.
༉‧´ˎ˗ content warnings; bed sharing, cuddling, mention of emily’s nail biting habit.
༉‧´ˎ˗ wc; 1.0k
cm masterlist ; main masterlist ; request guidelines ; inbox
The smile you give at her presence is a sweet one, though you do look a little dazed as you were just awoken from your slumber. It was a good dream you were having, snow flurries slowly falling on you, the world around you calm. Her knock was what had pulled you from that dream. Instead of lying on top of a cushion of thick snow, you woke up on the same stiff hotel mattress you fell asleep on as soon after you got back from the local police station.
“Em, wh-what are you doing here.. so late too?” you squint your eyes, vision still blurry and adjusting to the light coming from the hallway she stood in.
"I just drove back with Derek," the raven-haired woman sighs, one hand stuffed in the pocket of her pantsuit, the other holding onto the strap of her bag that's slung on her shoulder. She’s not able to contain her grin as she takes in your state, the sleep-mussed hair, plain grey sweatshirt, fuzzy heart patterned sleep shorts that are indeed very short, one sock missing. "Derek kicked me out of the room, made up some bullshit excuse about how he can't sleep properly with another person in the room and that if he doesn't get enough sleep, he'll be completely off his game tomorrow.”
“..and you want to sleep here?” Your voice is groggy and your eyes have just begun to adapt to the light. Those same eyes dart down to the bag she carries, and know it makes sense why she’s carrying it.
She nods.
“If it’s not too much of a burden, that is.”
“N-no, you’re never a burden.. come in.”
You open the door wider, gesturing with your arm for her to step inside. Emily’s eyes flicker from the inside of your hotel room back over to the door of the room she was supposed to stay in with Derek.
“Are you sure it’s fine?”
Before she even finishes getting her question out, you're nodding.
“Im sure.. and I’m also sure I’m very tired.”
She huffs, a barely there smile appearing on her lips at your whine, knowing that if you get too well adjusted to being back awake, you won’t be able to get any rest tonight. You shut the door behind her after she enters and watch through the darkness as she sets her bag down at the end of the bed and gets out her pajamas as well as a makeup wipe, hairbrush, and her toothbrush and paste.
You fish around under the sheets for that other sock, putting it on before climbing under the covers. You can hear her getting ready for bed, distant noise coming from behind the bathroom walls. It’s only another 7 minutes before she’s done and striding back out in her own set of pajamas, placing her toiletries back in her black bag.
“Thanks again,” she says in a hushed tone, slipping into bed next to you. The bed shifts, dipping slightly with the additional weight.
“It’s no problem.” Your voice is a barely there whisper, and you’re already close to drifting back to sleep.
Another few minutes of silence pass and you open your eyes back up, witnessing as she fidgets with her fingers above the comforter. You glance down at her fingers, silently inspecting her fingernails. Even though they’ve always looked chewed up, you can tell she’s bitten them quite recently, maybe even today.
You’d put two and two together the first time you met Emily when you originally joined the team and figured she had a habit of biting them. You were right, and she confirmed the suspicion a couple of months into knowing each other when she made an offhand comment about your nails when you came into work after getting a manicure that weekend about how well-kept your nails always were and about how if she didn’t have this nasty habit of biting hers, they could be that same way.
“Em..?” You whisper her nickname, breaking the silence.
“Hm?” She hums, stopping her fidgeting and turning her attention over to you.
“I thought you said you haden’t bitten your nails in a while..”
Emily goes quiet. Her memory takes her back to just a week prior, when she had told you her weekend went well, and that she hadn’t bitten her nails since that last Friday, 2 days. It’s been 11 days now, and it seems like she broke that streak.
“Yeah, I did.. This case has just been really stressful, for all of us I’m sure.”
You nod in agreement. You know that’s not the whole truth, and she can tell you know by it being clearly written on your face.
“I.. I’m not in the mood to talk about this right now.. sorry.”
“Well if you ever change your mind, and you do want to talk, you can talk to me if you’d like.”
Emily lets out a soft sigh, appreciating the understanding in your eyes. She shifts slightly in the bed, finding a comfortable position as she brings her arm closer to her chest, bringer her hand to her heart.
"Thank you," she murmurs, her voice barely above a whisper. "It means a lot."
You offer her a gentle smile in return, your eyes reflecting a mixture of concern and empathy.
She takes this moment of calm between you as an opportunity to shimmy closer to you, hesitating slightly before draping her arm over you. “Is this alright?”
You answer her with a small nod, letting your eyes fall shut as you curl up into her. She rubs your back languidly, softly lulling you to back to sleep against her as she rests her head gently on your shoulder, the shoulder your hair is draped over, and moves her leg over yours, effectively spooning you beneath the covers.
“Goodnight, y/n.” She whispers beside your ear, and she can hear each soft breath you take and each beat of your heart with how close you are to her, no room between you, bare thighs pressed against her pajama bottom covered ones, her head right next to yours, pressing against the cozy material of your sweatshirt.
“Goodnight..” you mutter back, voice weak as you drift off.
#reidsdaisies#reidsdaisies emily <3#emily prentiss#emily prentiss fluff#emily prentiss blurb#emily prentiss drabble#emily prentiss scenario#emily prentiss imagine#emily prentiss x reader#emily prentiss x female reader#emily prentisd x fem!reader#emily prentiss fanfic#emily prentiss fanfiction#emily prentiss fandom#criminal minds#criminal minds x reader#criminal minds fanfic#criminal minds fanfiction#emily prentiss criminal minds
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