Hey! I love your writing. Could you maybe do an Emily x fem reader fic where they're married and Emily gets really protective when they encounter some homophobia? Thank you!Xx
Requested by @em-i-ra : “Hey! I love your writing. Could you maybe do an Emily x fem reader fic where they’re married and Emily gets really protective when they encounter some homophobia? Thank you!Xx”
Category: Fluff
Word Count: 1,117
Warnings: homophobia
A/N: Thank you for the request ! Protective!Emily makes my heart go 🥺 my plan was to post this yesterday but then my WiFi cut out for almost the whole day so that didn’t really work lmao. I also hate the title, but we’re just gonna ignore that
——
The hum of the crowd of people talking and laughing around you made it difficult for you to hear the joke that Morgan was trying to tell the team. You all had decided to head to a bar for some drinks after you got back from a case. It wasn’t an easy one, and you were all ready for a break. The table erupted into laughter when he finished, and even though you didn’t hear the whole thing, you joined in. It felt good to lift some weight off your shoulders and laugh with your friends. JJ and Garcia said something about going to dance, then stood from their chairs and headed into the crowd of people.
Next to you, your wife, Emily, leaned close so you could hear her, “Do you wanna go join them?”
“In a minute!” You responded, taking a final sip of your drink. “I’m gonna go get another drink first.”
She smiled up at you as you stood, giving your hand a squeeze. You made your way to the bar, squeezing between some people to order. As you waited for your drink, you felt someone step closer to you. You didn’t think much of it since it was a crowded bar until he started talking to you.
“Hey, baby,” he slurred, moving closer. He was leaning on his elbow against the bar, and you could smell the beer on his breath. Typical kind of douchey guy trying to pick up girls, you could handle him. “You all alone tonight?”
“Nope.” You replied, keeping your answer short and trying to avoid eye contact. “Sorry, man, I’m not interested.” You gave him a polite smile and turned back towards the bar.
“C’mon, honey you don’t have to be so rude.” He mumbled, not moving from his position.
Luckily, the bartender passed you your drink, and you had an excuse to get away. Before you could leave, you felt his hand grab your free wrist.
“Hey, now,” he tried to pull you closer to him. “We could have a good time tonight. What do you say?”
You pulled your hand away quickly, but before you could answer, a familiar voice behind you spoke.
“Is this guy bothering you, Y/N?”
Emily appeared beside you and wrapped her arm protectively around your waist.
“I was just leaving, Em.” You leaned into her. “I think he’s finished talking.” You took a sip of your drink.
The man’s brow furrowed and frustration spread across his face.
“Oh, so you’re gonna get your friend to pull you away?” He asked, the alcohol in his system making his question louder than intended. “Fucking bitch.”
You could almost feel Emily’s demeanor change next to you, ready to defend you. She shifted to wrap both of her arms around you, leaning her chin on your shoulder.
“Oh, no, not her friend.” She corrected, and even though you couldn’t see her face, you knew she wore a devilish smirk. “Her wife.”
The man’s frustration deepened, and a look of disgust spread across his features. You tried to move back to the table before he started to spout some homophobic bullshit. Em shocked him enough, but you didn’t want to deal with that. You could stare killers down, but angry homophobes still made you shrink into yourself a little. But Emily didn’t move, keeping her arms locked around you.
He shakes his head, mumbling something that you didn’t catch under his breath before turning around to face the bar. You felt Emily straighten behind you.
“Excuse me?” She asked. You could hear the anger in her voice, and you moved out of her arms, opting to stand close beside her, attaching your hand to hers.
The man turned around and raised an eyebrow at your wife.
“I said it’s unnatural.” He repeated. You heard Emily scoff beside you. “What you two are doing, it’s just not right.” He shook his head and shrugged.
“No,” Emily began. “What’s not right is you flirting with girls who are obviously not interested in you and not taking no for an answer. Do you always have to drink before trying to talk to girls?”
She was really laying into him, and you could practically feel her anger radiating off her. Even though it was fun for you to watch this asshole visibly shrink into himself, you knew the situation had the possibility of going too far. You tried to tug her away, but her feet remained glued to the spot.
“What’s your fucking problem?” The man tried to retort, but his eyes were still wide and his voice betrayed that he was intimidated.
“My problem,” Emily replied, staring him down and taking a step towards him. “Is when douchebags try to hit on my wife and then spew hateful bullshit because they can’t handle a woman not wanting to sleep with them.”
“Okay.” You laughed as you stopped her, pulling her away. “Em, I think that’s enough.”
The two of you pushed your way through the crowd and out the door. The air outside was cold, a welcome contrast against the stuffy bar.
“Oh my god, Y/N,” Emily kept going. “Please can we go back in there, I have a few other things to say!”
You laughed, shaking your head as you finally dropped your head, turning to face her.
“I’m serious!” She almost shouted. “He had no right to speak to you like that! I could’ve whipped out my badge! Could you imagine the look on his face?”
You stepped closer to her, holding her face in your hands and kissing her gently. Her hands rested on your waist.
“Okay, that’s one way to get me to shut up.” She mumbled as you pulled apart.
You smiled. “I love you for standing up for me, but I think he was afraid for his life.”
“Good.” She chuckled lightly, leaning in to press her lips to yours again. “Watching him talk to you like that made me furious.”
“It’s all good now.” You responded, letting your thumb trace a pattern lightly on her cheek. “Have I ever told you your really pretty when you’re angry?”
She chuckled lightly, “Oh really?”
You nodded before pressing one more kiss to her lips and saying, “We should head back in before the team misses us.”
“Eh, screw the team. I say we can have a much better evening at home.” She said with a smirk.
“There is a much smaller chance of having to fend off angry drunk men.” You reasoned. “Sounds like a plan.”
She led you to her car in the parking lot, hand in hand, and you couldn’t help but smile to yourself the whole way home.
y’all ever watch a criminal minds episode and then it turns a very specific kind of weird and you’re like “ahhh yeah matthew gray gubler directed this, it makes sense now”
Hey😊 I love your writing! Could you write a story where fem!reader is kidknapped by an unsub and emily prentiss has to rescue her and take care of her afterwards? Would be great!
Request from @onthehighwaytohell-visitingrosie : Hey😊 I love your writing! Could you write a story where fem!reader is kidknapped by an unsub and emily prentiss has to rescue her and take care of her afterwards? Would be great!
Category: Fluff, a little angst
Word Count: 2,165
A/N: Thanks for the request! I have been writing more than I’ve been reading recently, so I’m getting tried of reading my own words lmao. I’m getting out of whatever writer’s slump I’m in though.
————-
It was dark and stuffy in the trailer. You were light headed, which distorted what you could see, but there was one wide window, light filtering in through the blinds illuminating the dust that floated around you. The air was musky and made you sick to your stomach. Hands bound behind your back, you were stuck in a chair at a small table in the small kitchen area of the trailer.
You had been taken by an unsub on a case a few days prior. You knew the guy you were looking for would inject himself into the investigation, but you didn’t expect for it to be so soon and so extreme. Seemingly harmless, he managed to get you alone outside of a bar where you and Morgan had gone to ask some questions. Then, you remembered something hitting your head, and from there it all went black. You fit the unsub’s victim profile, you should have known.
Considering your current position, you weren’t doing too bad. Your head ached from where you were hit, and you were a little scuffed up on your arms and legs, probably from when he dragged you from the bar. You had been through worse, you thought.
The more time passed in the trailer, the more worried you became. Until now, you had complied to what the unsub, Colton Mooney, wanted. He tried to play out a fantasy with his victims, imagining that they were in a relationship. Probably because he was a psychopath who experienced rejection once and used it as justification to hate women. Honestly, you didn’t give a shit why he did what he did, you just wanted to get out of here. You had done a good job of following the profile, going along with what he wanted, but with each day your patience was wearing thin. As much faith as you had in your team, you couldn’t just sit here waiting for them to find you.
For the first time since he kidnapped you, you were the only one in the small space. You had no idea how long Mooney had been gone, and you had no idea how long it would be before he got back, so you had to act quickly. For the past few minutes, you had been trying to loosen the ties around your wrists. Your fingers ached, but you felt the knots loosen. Pulling your hands free, you went to work on the ties around your ankles. As soon as you were free and bolting for the door, it opened, and the furious face of Colton Mooney was in front of you. He shoved you to the ground, and his foot collided with your stomach, leaving you gasping for air.
“Just what I fucking thought!” He shouted, leaning down to your level. His fist bundled in your hair, and he yanked your face up to his. “I knew you would leave, you’re just like the rest.”
He threw you back on the ground, adding a couple more kicks to your side for good measure. You tried to shuffle back into a corner of the trailer, anything to get away from him. His fantasy was shattered, and you knew what came next.
“Uh uh,” he shook his head, pulling a gun from his waistband. “There’s no getting out of this one, darling. Stand up, you’re coming with me.”
He hauled you to your feet, his arm reaching around your shoulders from behind, the gun pressed to your temple.
“Now,” he whispered, his lips unnervingly close to your ear. “You’re gonna open that door, and you’re gonna walk into the trees.”
Pushing you forward, your shaking hand reached for the door handle. Your body kept trying to hunch over, still recoiling from the pain, but his arm held you in his desired position. As you stepped out of the trailer, the fresh air was a relief, but the bright light hurt your eyes. You stumbled walking out, but you were roughly kept steady. Your mind was racing, trying to come up with some sort of escape plan. There weren’t many options, a gun to your head made any chances of success slim.
You were bracing yourself for the worst, when you heard footsteps approach. Suddenly the familiar faces of your team had you surrounded, your girlfriend, Emily among them. You could see her anger at the position he had you in, but your adrenaline was pumping and it was difficult for you take any of what was happening in. But, you had never been more relieved so see a group of people with guns pointed in your direction.
“Mooney, my name is Aaron Hotchner, FBI,” Hotchner began calmly. “Let her go and drop your weapon.”
His grip around you tightened, and the gun dug further into your temple. You winced at the pain.
“Let her go, Colton.” Emily said firmly.
The man behind you chuckled, “She seems fired up,” he mumbled in your ear. “You two know each other?”
“We know what happened to you as a boy, Colton.” Hotch continued. “It wasn’t fair. But what you’re doing to these innocent women isn’t fair either.”
“They’re not so innocent, agent!” He spat.
“You can have an opportunity explain that. Drop the weapon and come willingly.”
“Over my dead body,” he muttered, before pointing the gun at your team.
A gun was fired, and Mooney collapsed to the ground, taking you with him. Your ears rang, and for a moment, you though you were the one who was shot, but there was blood pooling from his chest. Frantically, you crawled away from the body, trying to gather yourself. People rushed around the scene as you tried to absorb what was happening.
“Y/N,” Emily was next to you immediately, kneeling next to you and pulling you into a tight hug. You felt tears well up in your eyes, allowing them to fall.
“Hey,” she rubbed patterns against your back, trying to calm you down. “It’s okay, you’re safe now.”
You were able to ground yourself gradually. This was the woman you loved, holding you. The unsub was dead, and you made it out alive. Everything’s okay. You took deep breaths, trying to calm your raging heartbeat.
“I knew you’d find me.” You managed, and your voice came out flustered. You held her tighter.
“I wouldn’t let anything happen to you,” she murmured. “I’m not going anywhere.”
You pulled back long enough to press your lips to hers. It was hungry and desperate, and you could feel her relief that you were okay. She brought her hands up to hold your face.
“We need to get you to the medic to make sure you’re okay.” Her voice was soft, her eyes filled with worry.
You nodded, hauling yourself to your feet, wincing. Emily linked her arm in yours and helped you to the back of the ambulance. After a short look over the EMT decided that you needed to be moved to the hospital.
“I’ll be fine.” You protested. Your body ached, but you could handle it.
“I think you have a few broken ribs, and we need to check for a concussion.” He explained as he helped you onto the bed in the ambulance. “A few of these cuts may need stitches too...” he trailed off, examining different areas of your body.
“I’m coming too,” Emily added before hopping in behind you. She grabbed your hand as you doors closed, and the ambulance headed to the hospital.
——
After some X-Rays and other tests, the doctors determined that you were good to head home. You felt awful, but you weren’t surprised. Stitches in 4 places, a couple of knots on your head, 2 broken ribs, and a black eye. You didn’t need to stay at the hospital, but you were told to take it easy. Which probably meant missing work for a little, or at least no field involvement. With what you had just experienced, you weren’t too eager to hop on the jet right away.
Emily was with you the whole time, refusing to leave your side. Part of appreciated it when she went into Protective Mode, and the other part of you knew she blamed herself for what happened.
She was driving you back from the hospital, one hand on your thigh and the other on the wheel. Every once in a while, she’d shoot a concerned glance your way. Each time you caught her, she’d look away. You rested your hand on top of hers.
“It looks worse than it is.” You tried to reassure her.
“How are you feeling?” She asked tentatively.
“Like shit.” You laughed, ignoring the pain that flashed when you did. But she smiled at your comment, so you were pleased. “But I’ll manage.”
You pulled into the parking lot of your apartment complex, and she helped you out of the car, linking her arm in yours again to escort you into the building.
When you turned your key and swung your door open, the familiar smell of the apartment welcomed you home. You sighed deeply, relieved to finally be in a place that you were comfortable. Emily helped to get you situated, throwing your go bag into your bedroom.
“Alright,” she announced, entering the living room where you had already collapsed on the couch. “Everything’s set, and the meds the doctor prescribed are in your medicine cabinet.”
You smiled, standing to walk her out. “Thanks, Em.” You kissed her cheek and pulled her into another hug. “When did you think you were gonna stop by tomorrow?”
She laughed, walking the two of you back to the couch and plopping down on the cushions.
“Nice try, Y/N.” she wrapped an arm around your shoulders and pulled you into her. “I said I wasn’t going anywhere, and I meant it. I am not leaving you alone until you are back on your feet.”
“Emily, it takes like 6 weeks for broken ribs to heal.” You mumbled against her.
“Well,” she replied. “Looks like you’re not getting rid of me for 6 weeks.”
You smiled and she moved her fingers to your hair, combing through. The two of you sat like that for a while, just enjoying each other’s company in silence. You tried to commit this moment to memory. You felt safe, you felt loved, and you were so happy to be away from that man.
“Do you wanna talk about what happened?” She asked softly.
You shook your head and looked up at her. “Not really, but I probably should.”
She gave you a sympathetic smile, and you sat up on the couch so that you could be face to face. You weren’t sure where to begin.
“I think I’m okay,” you began. “I mean, I think I’m managing. I don’t want to internalize whatever I’m dealing with because I know it’ll make it worse, but I don’t even know how I feel.”
She nodded, an understanding look in her eye.
“Part of me blames myself.” You confessed, and her hand immediately wraps around yours. “I know I shouldn’t, but I talked to him alone and fell for his rouse.”
Her thumb traced patterns on the back of your hand, and you tried to think of something else to say.
“The anxiety hasn’t gotten any better.” You laughed. “I’ve been safe for hours now, but I still feel the fear I did when he had the gun to my head.”
You shook your head again. “It’ll take some time, but I’ll be okay.”
She nodded, moving to brush a stray strand of hair behind your ear.
“You don’t need to feel guilty either, though.” You said. Now it was her turn to search for something to say.
“It drove me insane those few days that we were trying to find you.” She responded, her eyes not leaving you, as if now that you were safe she was never going to let you out of her sight again. “Knowing that that bastard had you, and was doing god knows what I-“ her sentence faltered, her eyes filling with tears.
“It wasn’t your fault.” You repeated. “And I’m okay, I’m here now.”
She smiled and leaned forward to kiss you. One of your hands moves to the side of her face, and the other rested on her waist. You pulled her closer to you, as if to say “I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere.”
“I love you.” You said when you pulled apart, resting your forehead against hers.
“I love you too, Y/N.”
She pulled you against her chest and leaned back on the couch. You snuggled into her side as she switched the TV. The both of you fell asleep against each other on your couch watching a random movie. You knew the next few weeks were going to be difficult. You had to heal physically and mentally, and you were more than lucky that the woman you loved would be with you the whole way.
All I’m saying is that the writers for CM were absolute Cowards for not giving Emily Prentiss a girlfriend, and no, I will not take any constructive criticism.
Hey can I get a Derek Morgan angst imagine where the reader is Derek’s girlfriend and a very loved member of the team who is away visiting loved ones and is kidnapped by Foyet before she can get on her flight back to Quantico. Foyet contacts the team to get them to come find them and leaves the reader with Dereks credentials and enough life to die in his arms. Sorry for the long description
Just posted! Thank you for the request, it was fun to write!
Summary: Reader is kidnapped by Foyet while visiting family away from the BAU. Derek and the rest of the team rush to find her before it’s too late.
Category: Angst
Word Count: 3,646
Warnings: Violence, Major Loss, Trauma
A/N: This was my first request! I had fun trying to create a scenario that would fit for Foyet’s character, but writing for Morgan was a little trickier than expected. Hope you enjoy!
Your sister engulfed you in one last hug after getting out of her car.
“You need to visit more often!” She said, her head over your shoulder. “I know the FBI has you pretty busy, but the kids love when their aunt stops by.”
You pulled away laughing, “That’s because I bring gifts and exciting stories about bad guys.”
“You really don’t need to spoil them.”
“What? I’m the fun aunt!” You pretended to be insulted. “That’s my job!”
She shook her head at you and grabbed your bag from the back seat.
“Call me when you get home, Y/N.”
“Of course.” You flashed her a smile. “And I’ll be back soon!”
You grabbed your bag and walked up the subway platform. Your visits with your older sister, Olivia, in her Chicago neighborhood were few and far between these days. When the case you were working downtown was closed up sooner than expected, you jumped at the opportunity to check in. Your boyfriend, Derek, offered to come with you, and while you would have loved for him to see Olivia again, you knew he already had plans with some friends and a pile of paperwork waiting for him back in Virginia.
“It’s okay,” you told him. “I’ll be back in a couple days, and we’ll still have the weekend before we need to head back into the office.”
He held your face in his hands and quickly pecked a kiss on your lips.
“Alright, but stay careful. And you’re not gonna be able to get rid of me when you get back, princess.”
“Don’t worry,” you smirked up at him. “I wasn’t planning on it.”
You smiled at the memory while you waited for the train that would take you to the airport. Even though he tried to hide it, you knew he was more on edge recently. To try and put his worried mind at ease, you sent a quick text to let him know you were en route to the airport. But that’s when you felt something hard press against your back.
“Nice to see you again, Agent L/N.” That voice sent a shiver down your spine. George Foyet had a gun to your back. You were paralyzed with fear, but you knew you couldn’t let him see that.
“I wondered when we’d be seeing you again.” You kept your eyes forward, as calm as possible. You didn’t want to alert the smattering of people on the platform. A mass panic would make whatever was about to happen ten times worse.
“Oh,” you heard his voice curl into a smile. “Don’t tell me you missed me? I’m always gonna keep coming back.”
“Like a fucking virus.” You spat.
“Hey now, no need to be nasty.” He warned. “Right now the only thing that’s stopping me from taking out every person here is your compliance.”
You took a deep breath, trying to assess your options. Your gun was tucked in the bag at your side, but a bullet would be in your back before you could even get it open. The people around you were unaware of the danger, most were scrolling through their phones, some had headphones in. You knew he wouldn’t kill you here, there wasn’t enough in it for him. Too spontaneous, he wouldn’t be able to fully exert power over you.
As if he could hear the gears turning in your head he leaned closer so his head was next to your ear. “Don’t get smart with me, agent. Olivia’s on her way home to Julia and Owen now, isn’t she? Wow, 9 and 6 years old... that’s a crazy age. Sure is a good thing she has you to come over and help out every once in a while.”
“What do you want?” You snapped. You knew there wasn’t an easy way out of this, but you’d rather anything happen to you than your niece and nephew.
“There we go!” He chuckled. “That’s the spirit. You’re gonna walk with me, down those steps, and off the platform.”
You felt the gun at your back push you in the desired direction. Your heart was beating out of your chest, and you were sure he could sense it too. After you were out of sight from the other bystanders, he spun, pushing you against the wall, the cold metal of the gun now against your temple.
“I’ll be sure to give your regards to Derek Morgan.”
With that, he pulled the gun back and slammed it against your head. You crumpled against the ground, losing consciousness. The last thing you saw was The Reapers face, excitement in his eyes.
Letting out a yawn, Derek Morgan finished off the last of his reports and added them to the pile. As he was signing the last few lines, he saw a flash of bright color stop in the doorway of his office.
“Hey, babygirl.” He hummed, he didn’t even need to look up to know Garcia was checking in on him before she left.
“Hey yourself,” she chirped. “You almost done? You’re here later than Hotch, which is saying something because I’m pretty sure he lives here.”
He smiled, “Yeah, that was the last one. I wanted to make sure that everything was done so I could spend the whole weekend with Y/N.”
“Oh, you two lovebirds warm my heart.” She gushed. “When is she getting back? I miss her! My day is severely dampened without her popping in to visit.”
“She should be calling anytime. Its later than she said, but maybe the flight was delayed.”
His phone on the desk between them lit up and started vibrating. He snatched it, glancing at the name.
“Speak of the devil,” he held it up to his ear. “Hey baby, I’m on my way out now to come pick you up. Which gate are you at?”
“Derek-“ your voice was muffled. You sounded like you had been crying.
“Y/N.” His tone changed drastically and his stomach dropped. “Y/N, what’s wrong?”
He met Gracia’s worried eyes. A different speaker laughed into the phone.
“Tell me, Derek Morgan, what kind of boyfriend let’s his girlfriend travel alone when there’s killer on the loose?”
His body tensed and his blood ran cold.
“Foyet.” He said, and heard Penelope gasp, her hands shooting up to cover her mouth. “Son of a bitch.”
“The hostility coming from you people,” Foyet trailed off. “Outrageous.”
“Where is she?” Derek huffed into the phone. “When I get my hands on you, I swear to God.”
“She’s a fighter, Derek. I’ll give you that. But time is running out. I’m sure you’ll think of something.”
The line went dead.
“Goddammit!” Derek slammed his hands on his desk.
“Is she-?” Garcia asked tentatively, tears in her eyes.
“No. Not yet. But I don’t know how long she has.” He struggled to string the words together as he called Hotch. He picked up on the second ring.
“Hotchner.”
“He’s got Y/N, Hotch.” His mind was racing.
“What?”
“Foyet. He’s got her.”
He heard Hotch sigh. “I’ll call the rest of the team. We’ll meet at the BAU as soon as possible.” With that, the call ended.
——
When you woke up, you were in the passengers seat of a car, your hands bound behind your back. When Foyet used your phone to call Derek, your perception of your surroundings became clearer. You wished you could have said more than just his name on the phone, just to let him know that you would hang on as long as you could.
Foyet had a thing for timing, so you knew you’d be kept alive until the last second, just so he could make your team squirm.
You tried to struggle against ropes at your wrists, and that’s when you noticed the pain. Sharp, fiery pain in your side. You looked down and saw blood, and it made your heart beat accelerate. But you also knew that Foyet focused on torture rather than damage at first.
“When my team finds you,” you spoke, your voice weak and trembling, “they’re gonna fucking gut you.”
“I’m not the one you need to worry about.” He sat, turning a knife around in his hands in the drivers seat. “You, on the other hand, well it’ll be a miracle if you even make it to the hospital.”
You groaned and tried to see what your possible escape options were. Honestly, it was looking pretty rough. The car sat in an empty clearing of a park. Streetlights illuminated small sections of the path that was lined with well trimmed bushes, but there was no one around. No one to see you and try to get help. Then again, you figured, Foyet would take out anyone who tried to ruin his plan.
“You know,” Foyet started again. “This whole thing could have been avoided. If your Unit Chief had accepted my deal...”
“Oh don’t start with this shit again.” You muttered defiantly. Even though you were paralyzed with fear, you wouldn’t let him know. You wouldn’t give him the pleasure.
“You’re pretty lively for someone who’s only gonna be alive for a few more hours.” He responded. Then, he took the knife carefully, examining it in the dim light, and let it slowly sink into your leg. You winced and let out a soft cry from the pain, but you tried to remind yourself that pain was all it is. He missed your femoral artery on purpose, this was just about prolonging the suffering.
“Let’s hope your team hurries things up.”
——
The whole team was back in the round table room in less than 20 minutes.
“Do we know where he took her?” Prentiss asked. “Was Y/N at the airport, the subway station? Did she even get back to DC?”
Derek shook his head in uncertainty, and dialed Penelope’s number. As the phone rang he replied, “We have to try to check security footage of each location.”
“But how long will that take? We don’t know when she was there.” Rossi added.
“Garcia,” he began and put the phone on speaker. “Can you hack into the security footage of the subway station to see if Y/N got on the train?”
“Do you know which one she was at? There are a lot of stations for the L train.” Garcia sounded frantic and the worry was evident in her voice. Derek took a moment to think.
“Uh, yeah,” he said. “Her sister lives closest to the last stop on the Blue Line.”
“Forest Park?”
“That’s the one. She texted me that she was there at 4:34 pm.”
“Okay, I’ll play it on the screen in the round table room so you know when I know.”
The footage popped on the screen, and Derek’s eyes searched frantically.
“There she is.” Hotch pointed to where you stood on the platform.
Almost as soon as they saw you stop on the platform, they noticed a figure in a black hoodie approach you from behind. Then, he led you away, arm against your back.
“The bastard was waiting for her!” Derek let out a frustrated shout. “I shouldn’t have let her go alone. I knew he was out there, and I knew he was looking for an opportunity to get to us.”
“Morgan, dont do that to yourself.” Hotch cut him off. “Right now we have to focus on finding her.”
“Let me know if you need anything else.” Garcia’s voice floated up from the phone. “Bring our girl back, crime fighters.”
“So she didn’t get on the plane to Virginia,” Emily began. “Is she still in Chicago?”
“I don’t think so.” Derek replied, staring straight ahead. He tried to keep his mind clear and his focus on finding you, but pangs of guilt kept clouding his head. Foyet was right, how could he let you go alone? He left you vulnerable to this whole situation.
“Where would he have taken her?” Reid asked.
“Foyet is obsessed with having power over his victims,” Hotch said. “As much as I hate to think about her as a victim, we have to profile her as one.”
“Taking Y/N acts as a way to exert power over Morgan.” Emily suggested. “He already took your credentials, but maybe he wasn’t satisfied with that.”
Derek nodded. “He called me, not just anyone on the team. Me. There’s not a lot that he can use against me, but Y/N is definitely one idea.”
Since you started at the BAU, you and Derek always had a playful, flirtatious relationship. As time went on, you fell for each other, and each short remark, each flirty comment, was genuine. The two of you had just officially started dating a few months before The Reaper case was back on the team’s radar.
“I think he brought her back here.” He said, after a moment of thought. “We both live and work here. We met here. This is the place with the most emotional significance to the both of us.”
“That sounds like something he would do,” Hotch agreed. “Coming back to D.C. would also affect how you view what you know as home.”
“Is there specific place here that’s significant to the both of you?” Prentiss questioned. “Something Foyet would know about.”
Derek shook his head, trying to think of something. When put under pressure, every place the two of you had been seemed significant. The coffee shop you stop at sometimes before work, your apartments, the movie theater you once went on a date at. There were too many possibilities. But then he had an idea.
“There’s a park a few blocks from here,” he started, memories crashing in around him. “We walk there after tough cases, talk about things and vent. It’s where we-“ he broke off, his voice cracking.
Derek Morgan wasn’t one for hiding things, but that night felt special, and he didn’t want it to be picked apart. After the team got back from a difficult case, you were finishing up some of the reports on your desk. As Derek was getting ready to leave, he stopped by your desk.
“Hey there, babygirl. You almost done with those?”
“Yeah, are you heading out now?” You asked and your voice betrayed how exhausted - emotionally and physically - you were. He nodded.
“Wanna walk with me?” He offered, and you accepted. The two of you left the building and started on your way. You both took the metro to work, and you would ride in together sometimes. But when you reached the station, you just kept walking. His presence was comforting, especially after what you had both been through. He was telling you a funny story about something Reid had said, and the way his eyes lit up when he spoke and the warm hum of his voice so close to you, you knew you were falling in love with him.
The two of you reached the park, and you walked, kicking at the gravel under your feet. You relished in how he could make you feel like there was nothing wrong in the world when you had just stared evil in the face.
Suddenly you stopped walking, and just stared at him, searching for a reason in his expression to not do what you were about to do.
“Y/N?” He asked. But before he could say more, your hand was at the back of his neck, gently pulling his head down so you could kiss him. And he didn’t hesitate to kiss you back. His hands found your waist, and he pulled you close to him. He knew the world could be so fucked up sometimes, but here you were, one of the only people who could make him feel okay and level headed after what you had just went through, kissing him, and he knew that he had to hold on to you forever.
When the two of you finally broke apart, you couldn’t stop smiling.
“Way to steal my thunder, baby girl.” He laughed. “I would’ve worked my way up to that if you gave me a few more minutes.”
“Oh, I’m sure.” You mumbled, before leaning back in.
But now, the only thing Morgan could think of was that you could be dying in that exact same spot on the path.
“There’s a park about a half mile north of here?” Emily suggested.
“Yeah.” Derek replied. “That’s the one. We walk there all the time.”
“Foyet must have been watching you watching you for weeks.” Reid mumbled, more to himself than to the team.
“Then lets go,” Hotch said.
Derek was out of his chair, bolting from the building before anyone could stop him. He knew where you were, and if he didn’t get to you in time, he didn’t know what he would do.
——
Foyet exited the car, and came to open your door.
“Show time.” He muttered with a smile, as he dragged you from your seat and dropped you on the path. Your whole body ached. Your head was thrumming, and you could feel sharp pains in the places he stabbed you. You knew your face betrayed you, but you spoke as if you believed you weren’t bleeding out.
“There gonna find you-“ Your sentence faded off. Struggling to speak or even think, your voice sounded hollow and broken. He used his foot to push you so you were on your back, the sole of his shoe pressing into the wound in your stomach, causing another flood of pain through your body.
“They’ll have to find you first.” The look on his face was cold and empty, there was no smile. You had interviewed countless killers, comforted families, spoken to the victims you managed to save. And now, you could finally say you know what those victims experienced right before they died. You knew the pain, and the fear, and the knowing of what was to come.
“Oh,” Foyet held the knife to his lips., signaling for you to be quiet. “You hear that?”
The sound of sirens grew closer, and you knew your team was almost there. But it was growing difficult for you to keep your eyes open. He knelt down next to you, and you tried to roll your body away from him, but you were too weak.
“Too bad they’re too late.” His voice sent chills through your body. This is it. One last time, he sunk his knife in your stomach. Your body was almost numb to it, the feeling of a new wound drowned out by remaining pain of all the others. With that he stood up, pulled something from his back pocket, tossed it next to you, and slipped back into darkness.
You heard shouts from behind you, and you tried to remain still, but you felt weaker with each second.
——
As Derek rounded the corner, he saw you on the ground. You weren’t moving.
“Y/N!” He screamed. His voice didn’t even sound like his. He sprinted to where you lay, dropping to the ground beside you. It hurt to look at you, your shirt was almost completely stained with blood, and he wasn’t sure where he should put pressure, there were too many places you were bleeding.
“Hey, baby,” he said tenderly, eyes finding yours. “Hey, stay with me, I’m here now.”
He grabbed your hands, feeling how cold they were and how weakly you held on. Other members of the team and police were arriving where the two of you were.
“I need a medic!” He shouted before turning back to you. “You’re not going anywhere, right? Come on baby, they’re almost here.” He pulled you into his lap, so your head was in his arms.
“I didn’t,” you said feebly. It was difficult to keep your eyes focused on his face above you, but you tried so hard. “I tried to not show him fear.”
“That’s good,” he said through tears, his hand pushing away a few stray hairs from your face. “I’m so proud of you, Y/N, you know that?”
“Yeah, I know.” You smiled lightly, and your eyes fluttered, threatening to close.
“C’mon, keep those eyes open for me, you’re gonna be okay.” He said frantically. He whipped his head up. “I said I need a medic!” He cried, desperately.
“Derek,” you managed. “Derek I never told you...”
“You can tell me on the way to the hospital, baby. Help’s almost here, just hold on.”
You shook your head lightly. “I’m sorry, that I went on my own.”
“There is nothing you need to apologize for,” his brows furrowed. “We are gonna find that son of a bitch and he’s the one who will have to pay for this.”
But you could feel yourself slipping. You looked in his eyes and smiled.
“I love you,” you mustered a smile, but then your eyes drifted closed, and the scene faded around you.
“No,” he whispered. “Y/N, come on, open your eyes.”
But your face was blank and your body was limp. Tears spilled over his eyes, as he held you tighter in his arms, pulling you into his chest.
The team, by now, had caught up and watched the scene before them. A few of them started to look around, trying to find something to do that would make them feel like they were helping, but everything felt surreal. Hotch approached Morgan, putting a hand on his shoulder, when he noticed something beside where you were laying.
Derek rested your body back on the ground, putting his face in his hands, trying to compose himself, when Hotch calling his name pulled him out of his thoughts.
“Morgan, he left...” But he trailed off. Instead, he held up Derek’s credentials. The same credentials that Foyet had stolen weeks before.
“We’re going to catch him.” Hotch tried to reassure him.
Derek could only manage a nod before pressing a kiss to your forehead, and rising to his feet.
Damn right, we’re gonna catch him, he thought. He wasn’t going to let your death be for nothing.
Summary: Reader tries to deal with the after effects of being captured by an unsub. Hotch can see you aren’t dealing with it as well as you say.
Category: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, little bit of fluff
Word Count: 3,170
Warnings: discussions about violent trauma, unhealthy coping mechanisms
A/N: this ended up a little darker than I wanted, but I’m okay with it.
——
The low light from your lamp on your desk made it harder to read the files in front of you. You’d been there for God knows how long trying to finish up some reports. Your focus got worse as the day went on, and your headache wasn’t helping.
Despite your best efforts, your train of thought kept getting interrupted with flashbacks to a few weeks before.
You and Hotch went to interview a possible witness for the case. You suggested to split up against Hotch’s protests. The witness turned out to be the unsub, and as you were snooping around the back yard, he caught you off guard, disarmed you, and hauled you into a van, driving off before Hotch realized you were gone.
You were held for a few days in a warehouse where the unsub kept his victims. When the team found you, you were in and out of unconsciousness, none of your wounds bad enough to kill you.
You came to in the hospital, and the whole team piled in to your hospital room, and while you appreciated how much they cared about you, the sudden burst of attention sent you into a panic attack.
Hotch ushered everyone out of the room, and you had never been more thankful. You preferred to deal with things privately, and it was difficult for you to let people in. You had no idea how you were going to cope with what happened in the first place and the idea of getting other people involved made your head spin and your stomach drop.
A few days later, you were allowed to leave the hospital. Hotch drove you back, and you knew he felt guilty about leaving you alone. Except he didn’t leave you. You were the one who went on your own.
Before heading into your apartment, you made sure he knew it wasn’t his fault. You knew he blamed himself for a lot more after what happened with Haley, and you didn’t want him to add this to the list.
He turned to you and began to apologize, but you stopped him, resting your hand in top of his.
“I’m okay now,” you told him, “because you and the team found me. And that’s what’s important.”
You returned to work after two weeks.
Suddenly, you were startled from your flashback as a hand fell on your shoulder. Instinctively you whipped around, grabbing the wrist in a tight hold, ready to defend yourself. Your eyes landed on Hotch behind you, and guilt flooded your system.
“Sorry, sir.” You mumbled, and you dragged your hands across your face. “You surprised me, I thought I was the only one left here.”
“I was on my way out.” He explained. “I tried to get your attention, but you didn’t hear.”
You nodded and put on a tight smile. Until now, you thought you were doing a good job with keeping the past few weeks separate from your present. You knew your team felt awful about not getting to you before most of the damage was done, and you didn’t want them to be reminded of it every day.
“L/N,” he started. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I’m good.” You replied too quickly.
“Are you sure? Because if you need some extra time off, or if you need anything at all-“
“I said I’m fine, Hotch.” you snapped.
His brows furrowed, but he didn’t push you.
“You should head home and get some rest. It’s almost midnight.”
“Yeah,” you mumbled. “I’ll head out after I finish these reports up.”
“I can give you more time if you need it. You don’t need to finish them tonight.”
You sighed, knowing there’s no way a worried Aaron Hotchner will back down on this.
“I’ll head out after this page is done.” You said with a smile, turning back to your work. He agreed, but he didn’t move to leave.
After scribbling for a few seconds, you paused and said, “You’re not going to leave until I leave, are you?”
“No, definitely not.”
A small smile twitched at your lips.
You filled in the last blank and tucked a few folders into your bag before standing to leave. You and Hotch headed through the glass doors to the elevator, and you were relieved that the silence wasn’t awkward. He didn’t expect you to talk, and he didn’t try to bring the obvious up: you weren’t dealing with it as well as you kept saying you were.
A friendly presence was welcome, especially when they weren’t analyzing your fucking micro expressions for proof that you were struggling. That’s one thing you were thankful for. Hotch didn’t treat you like a victim. You knew it was because he understood what you were going through. He survived Foyet and knew what it was like to deal with everything that came after. The two of you said your good nights and you hopped in your car to drive home.
The drive passed in a daze, and before you knew it, you unlocked your apartment and stumbled in.
Despite the new extension on your work, you were determined to finish the reports tonight. You kicked off your shoes and poured some whiskey into a glass.
You didn’t plan on sleeping tonight. Rest sounded exquisite, but you knew whatever sleep you got would be ridden with nightmares, the horrors you experienced in that warehouse replayed over and over again. The wounds on your torso were bandaged and healing, but as soon as your eyes closed, you knew you would feel the knife enter you all over again.
You cringed at the thoughts and took a swig of the amber liquid, relishing in the warmth it brought to your stomach.
Besides, you had things to do, and your energy would be better spent doing something productive.
Unfortunately, the files only kept you occupied for a few hours, and every noise put you on edge. A few cracks were heard from the building settling as you worked, and each time your hand jumped towards your gun on the table in front of you.
Now that the work was done, there was nothing stopping you from turning over the idea that haunted you: how long were you going to have to live like this? You knew you’d find a way to manage, but right now, you were out of luck.
You also found your mind drifting back to the last conversation of your night. You pictured the soft smile that Hotch barely wore, and you found yourself starting to smile too.
Oh shit, you thought. I don’t need this to be added on top of everything else that’s happening. And your boss, of all people? Jesus...
You took a deep breath, and stretched. This was going to be a long night.
—-
Crazy enough, your headache was worse the next morning. No sleep, not enough food and lots of stress didn’t help it.
When you arrived at the BAU it was early in the morning, but you’d rather go to work than sit at home waiting for something to happen.
After dropping off the finished reports in Hotch’s empty office, you walked across the bullpen to make some coffee. You watched the creamer as it slowly poured into the steaming liquid. You smiled to yourself as it swirled into beautiful patterns, and you felt a little relief wash over you. The person you knew wasn’t completely gone. You could still find enjoyment in small things.
However the happy moment was ruined as your headache intensified. You thought you’d be able to tough it out, but it was growing unbearable, so you rummaged through the cabinet in the kitchenette to find ibuprofen. Your hand opened the bottle as steps approached from behind you along with a familiar voice.
“Please tell me you didn’t stay up all night working on these.” Hotch’s tone was firm, and he gestured with the files you had just sat on his desk.
“Good morning to you too, sir,” you said, and took the painkillers with a swig of coffee.
“L/N” he warned.
“When did you get here? I thought I was the first one in-“
“Y/N.” He still sounded annoyed, but you could also hear the concern.
“No, I didn’t stay up all night,” you lied. “They only took me a couple hours, and I wasn’t tired anyway.”
He accepted your answer with a nod, and you shifted past him back to your desk. You weren’t particularly keen on the idea of an impromptu therapy session with your boss at 7:00 in the morning.
Before returning to his office, he stopped next to your desk, resting a hand lightly on your shoulder. You tensed, but you didn’t flip around ready to fight him, so it was an improvement from the last time.
“Things do get easier. Let me know if you need anything.”
Before you could respond, he returned to his office. His comment brought you some solace, and you took a deep breath to collect yourself before working on the few reports you left the night before. You couldn’t help but repeat what he said to you as you worked.
“It gets easier.”
Gradually, the rest of the team filed into the bullpen, and before you knew it you were being called up to the conference room to go over a case.
“Katie Langston is the third woman to be found tortured and stabbed to death in the Indianapolis area in the past month.” JJ explained.
Oh no, you thought as you looked at the crime scene photos. Your stomach dropped to the floor. Ligature marks on their wrists and ankles, shallow cuts scattered around their bodies. Is that what you looked like? When your team found you, is this what they saw?
“How long was the waiting period between kills?” Emily asked beside you.
“Three weeks between the first and second, three days between the second and third.”
“If he keeps shortening the time between kills we could have another body by tomorrow.”
You felt detached from the conversation happening in front of you, like you were watching through a screen. You stared at the case file, struggling to read the words in front of you. And you knew your panic was at least a little obvious, because you felt Hotch staring at you. That part could get annoying rather quickly.
“Wheels up in thirty.” He finished, eyes not leaving you.
You tried to shake off the feeling, grabbing the new case file and heading out of the conference room before your team could notice your unease.
To your dismay, the feeling stuck with you throughout the day. It lingered on the jet, and you couldn’t stop picturing yourself in the crime scene photos. That was almost you. The realization hit you over and over. You curled further into your seat, pulling your knees to your chest and leaning your head back.
When you refocused you’re attention back to your surroundings, you met Hotch’s eye across the jet. The question went unasked, but you gave him a small smile to let him know you were okay.
You spent most of the first day of the investigation at the station, helping Reid put together a geographical profile and look into victimology. Thankfully, you managed to stay focused at the task at hand. When the rest of your team came back from the crime scenes and the M.E., you had to give the police a preliminary profile.
“Keep in mind,” Morgan added, finishing up the profile. “We tried to stop a media panic before it started. More attention could drive him into a frenzy. This guy could strike again very soon, but he’s devolving, so soon he’ll make a sloppy mistake.”
“We’ll be back tomorrow morning to continue the investigation.” Hotch told the police commissioner, before leading the team out to the SUVs.
The daze followed you to the hotel, and you felt like you floated up to your hotel room, not bothering to talk with your team before turning in for the night.
You flopped back on the bed, staring at the ceiling for what seemed like hours. Your body felt like lead, and the headache from earlier was still lingering. Unwanted thoughts started to creep in, and you felt your heart beat thrum in your head.
Finally alone, you felt comfortable to let some tears sneak through. You sniffled and wiped them away, before sitting up and deciding to investigate the hotel minibar.
You knew this wasn’t a way to cope, but you also knew that it was easier to relax after you had a few sips of something.
You plucked a small bottle out of the fridge and twisted the cap off, bringing it to your lips and taking a long sip. You rested both of your hands on the counter in front of you, trying to regain some control.
After a few deep breaths, you moved to change out of your work attire, substituting the slacks and dress shirt for an oversized T-Shirt and shorts. You relaxed a little more, finishing the first small bottle. You opened the fridge to grab another, but sudden knocks at your door stopped you.
Before turning the lock and pulling the chain back, you examined your appearance in the mirror on the wall. Your eyes were red, but other than that, you looked fine. Looking through the peephole, you saw your boss standing patiently outside your door, and you felt yourself growing annoyed.
You opened it enough to lean against the doorframe. “What, are you doing nightly wellness checks now?” You tried to joke, but it came out more aggressive than intended. He didn’t move from where he stood, and you could tell that your comment threw him off.
Then again, you were thrown off when you saw he wasn’t in his usual suit. Seeing Hotch in a plain T-shirt and sweatpants added to the strangeness of the day.
“Sorry,” you corrected yourself. “Is there something you need, sir?”
He crossed his arms and paused before asking, “When was the last time you slept?”
“Well,” you start.
“I mean a full night’s sleep.”
You thought hard trying to come up with an answer, but you couldn’t find one.
“I know opening up to people isn’t the most comfortable thing for you,” he continued. “But internalizing what you’re dealing with does nothing but hurt you. And on top of that, it’s exhausting, believe me, I know.”
You couldn’t meet his eyes.
“Are you sure you don’t want to talk about it?” He offered. “It might be beneficial to talk it through with someone who understands parts of it.”
You didn’t know if it was because you were exhausted with keeping your walls up, or if the little bit of alcohol in your system made you feel more comfortable, or if you were just ready to let it out, but you nodded.
“Okay.” You said softly as you stepped back to let him inside the room. He followed and shut the door behind him. You sat cross legged on the end of the bed and watched as he took a seat on the chair facing you.
Trying to think of somewhere to begin, your head fell into your hands and you took a deep breath. He didn’t push you to start, and you could tell he knew how difficult this was.
“Whenever I close my eyes,” you started, “I’m there all over again. His face is right in front of me, and I can feel the knife barely touching my stomach, like he’s waiting to push it in until I least expect.”
Hotch nodded, so you kept going.
“I thought I had a better handle on... whatever this is, but,” You trailed off slightly, and your eyes stung as tears started to build. “The victims from today. I saw them and couldn’t stop thinking, that was almost me.” You were almost whispering, because you knew if you tried to talk louder your voice would break.
You wiped your eyes, and looked up to meet Hotch’s gaze.
“You almost found me like that.” The tears started to fall. His face was laced with concern, like he was trying to comprehend the whole situation.
“Did you know the other girl we found with you?” He asked quietly.
That was the worst part. You were tied up, and he forced you to watch him torture and kill the girl he captured before you. She couldn’t have been older than seventeen, and you couldn’t do anything to help her. You knew her name, you had just looked at her photo on the missing persons report that day, and you couldn’t do a single damn thing.
You shook your head, but your body was lightly trembling. You turned your focus to your hands, picking at your nails.
“He made,” you started but your voice broke, distorted by the cry that threatened to leave your throat. “He made me watch when he killed her. She screamed and I couldn’t do anything.” Your chest felt heavier than it did in weeks. You let out a sharp breath, trying to hold yourself together.
But Hotch already moved to sit next to you on the bed, one arm behind you, rubbing gentle circles on your back. You leaned into his touch. It was more comforting that you expected it to be.
“I know that he did it just to exert power over me,” you kept going. “Just to fuck with my head. And it worked, it fucking worked.” You let out a few sobs, and he pulled you closer so your head rested on his shoulder.
After you calmed down slightly, you finished by saying, “When I finally get to sleep, I can hear her screaming. And it’s like it splits my head open.”
The two of you sat in a comfortable silence, before he said, “When I was in the hospital after Foyet, I couldn’t sleep for more than 20 minutes at a time without seeing his eyes staring into mine.”
You pondered his words.
After a few moments, you asked, “How long until the scars aren’t the only thing you can see in the mirror?”
When you first got back from the hospital, you just stared at your reflection. Examining each bandage, each bruise. A significant portion of your torso and arms were covered by at least one of the two. You felt like you were in a different body.
You felt him sigh. “It’s a gradual process. They stand out less and less, until one day, you almost forget they’re there.”
Then he added, “I meant what I said earlier. It does get easier. It just takes some time.”
Then, unexpectedly, he tilted his head down to press a kiss into your hair. Your stomach fluttered, and you tried to take the moment in. Even though everything felt like it was crashing down around you, there were small things that you could hold onto for balance.
ive never proofread a single thing ive written in my life as soon the words are outside my brain i no longer recognize them as mine and i want nothing more to do with them
Summary: Emily and reader have to share a hotel room on a case. You totally have your feelings in control, right?
Category: Fluff with a little angst mixed in because I can’t help myself
Word Count: 3,097
A/N: Okay, hear me out!! The “oh no we have to share a hotel room, and what’s this? only one bed?!?” trope gets me EVERY TIME, and it is outrageous that I haven’t seen one with Emily Prentiss. Anyways, I hope you enjoy!
—-
Raindrops tapped against the window of the hotel lobby as you shivered, pulling your dripping coat tighter around you. You tried to be patient as JJ talked with the employee to get the room keys, but oh my god, patience was difficult to muster when you were actively creating a puddle on the floor.
You, Reid and Prentiss decided to revisit the last dump site one more time before turning in for the night. Even though you delivered the profile earlier that afternoon, there was something that didn’t sit right with you. The other two agents shared your unease, so when the rest of the team followed up on leads with the Tacoma police, the three of you went to make sure there wasn’t anything you missed.
You became aware that the clouds above the evergreens surrounding you were growing darker by the minute, but you hoped you could get a good look at the scene before the downpour began.
“Washington state is actually 52% forests, and some of the oldest trees near Mount Rainier are over 2,000 years old and are over 25 feet in circumference, fascinatingly enough, so the fact that the bodies were found in forests make sense.” Reid rattled a few more facts off.
“But the problem is the locations of the dump sites doesn’t fit the profile.” You mumbled, running a hand through your hair. “He threw the victim out here like trash. This doesn’t show the remorse we were expecting.”
“And he dumped her almost directly on top of a well traveled path. All of his other dump sites were secluded. The victims were found after a few days, not sighted hours after their deaths like this one.” Emily chimed in beside you.
You ignored the occasional raindrops falling on your hair. “Maybe it was intentional.”
“But the profile said he’d be devolving.” The doctor piped in from a few feet away.
“Yes, but he could also be taunting us, growing bolder.”
“Narcissistic alpha male becoming more confident with media attention? Say it isn’t so.” Emily joked as she moved past you to get up to the trail, letting her hand brush against your shoulder.
Ignoring the fluttering feeling in your stomach, the three of you started your trek back to the SUV as the rain started falling at a steady pace.
“Oh shit.” She grumbled beside you as the rain intensified. “Reid you grabbed an umbrella from the car, right?”
“I was supposed to?”
You let out a laugh as Emily groaned and picked up her pace, almost jogging ahead.
Thunder rumbled above the three of you when you finally made it back to the SUV, and you climbed inside, thankful for dry shelter.
“The luck we have...” Emily trailed off into a laugh in the drivers seat next to you, turning the keys into the ignition and starting the route to the hotel. You tried to ignore how just the sound of her voice made the sides of your lips twitch into a smile. And you definitely ignored how beautiful she looked when her dark hair was messy from the rain.
You definitely did not have feelings for your coworker, thank you very much. You and Emily were just Good Friends. Good friends that spent a significant amount of time at each other’s apartments. Good friends who had movie nights every week that sometimes (most times) involved cuddling on the couch and falling asleep practically on top of each other. Just friendly activities, you reminded yourself.
You were pulled from your thoughts when the three of you pulled up to the hotel, running through the doors to try and prevent yourselves from getting drenched even further.
“Did you guys go for a swim?” Morgan laughed when he saw the state you were in.
“D-Don’t even start.” You tried to retort through your shivers. Derek sent you a sympathetic smile, as JJ returned to the team.
“Unfortunately,” she started. You had to prevent yourself from sighing. This day just was not going to turn around for you. “There was a shortage of rooms. I thought I reserved enough, but it seems like several flights were canceled, and now we have half the amount we started with. We’re going to have to double up.”
Oh?
Your team seemed to have pre-established pairs, grabbing keys from JJ and drifting off to their rooms.
“Looks like you’re stuck with me, L/N.” That warm voice came up beside you.
Shit shit shit.
“Looks like it.” You feebly agree, as Emily walks ahead to get the key.
Okay, you reason with yourself. You can manage this. This’ll be fine.
The both of you approach the elevator, shoes making squelching sounds as you become aware of how cold and uncomfortable you actually are. You want nothing more than to crawl into a warm bed and fall asleep immediately.
Emily swipes the key, and enters the room. Following behind, you notice there’s only one bed, a table, and a tiny couch in the room.
“Of fucking course.” You mutter under your breath before you can stop yourself. You see the agent in front of you visibly tense from your words, and a pang of guilt hits your stomach.
“You can take the shower first if you want.” You offer warmly, trying to make up for your previous comment. She smiles and mumbles her thanks, quickly grabbing a change of clothes from her go bag and rushing to the bathroom.
Great, you think. She definitely won’t find out about your feelings if you push her away first. You sigh loudly as you sit on the edge of the bed, letting your exhaustion hit you and your head fall into your hands.
In trying to sort yourself out in the last few weeks, you ended up shutting her out, and you felt awful. You bailed on movie nights, called her less, shortened conversations at work.
But you felt it was necessary. She probably didn’t feel the same way, and you didn’t want to have to deal with the awkward months having to recover from that while spending the majority of your time with her at work. It would take a huge toll on your friendship and you didn’t want to put her in an uncomfortable situation. It would be easier to let the feelings pass, you reasoned. And when they do, you can apologize for being distant, and movie nights can resume.
You kick off your boots and hang your coat in the closet. You hoped that it would be dry by tomorrow, but you doubted it. Still shivering, you pull a pair of thin sweatpants and a T-shirt from your go bag, chastising yourself for not bringing something warmer. You change quickly, attempting to ring out your still-dripping hair with your wet shirt to no avail.
Pulling the covers of the bed over your legs, you grab some of the case files, comparing what you know to the profile and the theories you had on the trail.
Too focused in the work, you almost jump out of the bed as Emily calls your name in front of you.
She laughs lightly, and you ignore how your stomach flips. She’s wearing what looks like a very cozy sweater and shorts, and you hope she doesn’t notice your gaze lingering. “I’m sorry, you weren’t responding. The bathroom’s all yours.”
“Thanks,” you mumble, slipping out of the bed, grabbing one of the pillows and tossing it to the couch. “You can have the bed,” you say to the woman behind you as you grab your things and make your way to the bathroom.
“Hang on,” she stops you with a hand around your wrist, turning you to face her. “We can share the bed, Y/N, it’s not like we haven’t slept together before.”
Your eyes instinctively dart to the floor and a blush creeps across your cheeks.
“That’s not... sorry, you know what I mean.” She drops your arm, realizing her mistake, and turning from you. The defeated look on her face exaggerated the guilty pangs in your chest.
Closing the bathroom door, you wrap a towel around your hair and brush your teeth. You’ll shower in the morning, right now you just want to sleep and let yourself forget things for a few hours.
Before leaving the room, you look at your reflection in the mirror. The bags under your eyes are darker than you remember them being. “This is going to be fine.” You whisper to yourself, feeling the anxiety settle in your veins.
All of the lights are off in the room except the lamp by her side of the bed. She’s in the position that you were in a few moments ago, head hunched over case files. A few strands of her hair hang in front of her face, and you want to reach out and tuck them behind her ear.
You almost try to reiterate your case about sleeping on the couch, but Emily Prentiss is nothing if not stubborn, and you would most definitely lose.
Grabbing the pillow you tossed on the couch, you shuffle towards the bed. Emily smiles at you briefly before returning to the case files, and you take a deep breath, trying to release some nerves and stress. You crawl under the covers and turn so your back is to the woman next to you. You mumble a soft “goodnight” before shutting your eyes, willing sleep to come.
The light behind you shuts off, leaving you in complete darkness. The rain is still coming down hard outside, and you know the occasional thunder will help you relax. The bed shifts as Emily lies down, and you can feel her eyes on you.
“Y/N?” She asks quietly. “Can I ask you something?”
“Of course, Em.” Your voice is barely above a whisper.
“What did I do?”
You turn to face her. Her brows are furrowed and she isn’t meeting your gaze.
“What do you mean?”
“You’ve been avoiding me for weeks and we barely talk. I don’t have to be a profiler to know that you’re pissed.”
Okay fuck this, you think. You hate the sound of pain in her voice, and you know you’re the reason it’s there. No more avoiding, you decide. No more ignoring feelings, it’s just making things worse.
“You haven’t done anything wrong,” her eyes flash up to yours, filled with confusion. “I’m sorry I know I’ve been distant, I’m just trying to...” you think of the best way to phrase it, “sort some things out I guess.” Your pitch raises at the end so it sounds more like a question than an explanation.
“Oh,” she says, and you can basically hear the gears turning in her head. “Okay.”
You close your eyes, and thankfully she drops it there. Hopefully that will be enough for the tension to lessen between the two of you, but you know that she’ll figure it out soon. You just hope you can get some sleep first.
Even though you’re under at least three blankets, you’re still frozen to the core from the rain, and a violent shiver passes through you. You feel a warm hand fall on your arm, and your eyes flash open.
“Jesus, Y/N. You’re fucking frozen.” Her deep brown eyes are filled with care and concern now, and you can feel your heart melt under her gaze.
“I’m fine,” you stutter. “Just a l-little cold.”
“C’mere.” She opens her arms up to you, and you hesitate. But like she said before, it’s not like you haven’t cuddled with her before. And, honestly, the idea of leaning into her soft knit sweater to warm yourself up is more powerful than your anxiety.
So you shift closer to her, allowing her arms to wrap around you and your head to sit in the crook of her neck. Hesitantly, you drape your arm across her middle. Your heart rate accelerates, but the arms holding you are soft and warm, and if it was possible to get drunk off the smell of her perfume, you would. How could you forget what this felt like? You let out a satisfied hum, and you feel her chest vibrate as she asks, “Better?”
You nod, and she holds you a little tighter. The shape of your bodies fit so well against each other, like you were meant to be right in this position. You could die here and be absolutely fine with it, you think. Why were you trying to run from this? Are you sure rejection was as imminent as you believed?
Suddenly, you feel one of her hands move to your hair, combing through again and again. Your breath hitches slightly, and your heart starts beating faster than it already was.
“Is this okay?” She whispers from above you.
“Yes.” You respond almost immediately, but you’re surprised you sound so calm.
“So,” she mumbles. “You wanna tell me what those things were that you needed to sort out.” She has an edge to her voice, and you know that she has you figured out. You pull back slightly so you can look at her face.
“Well,” you tentatively begin. “My point of view on... certain things has recently changed.”
“Oh really?” She says, a devious smile pulling at her lips. She was going to be the death of you. Her hand that wasn’t in your hair moves to cup your face, her thumb moving lightly across your cheek. “Care to elaborate?”
You smile lightly and you muster whatever courage you have. “It hit me for the first time a few weeks ago when I was at your apartment.” You take a deep breath, and she doesn’t move to stop you, so you continue. “We were watching a random shitty movie, but I kept looking back to you. You would laugh at the bad writing or something, and the happiness I felt from just being around you- it felt like home. And I knew that my feelings for you had changed.”
Almost immediately after you finish her lips meet yours, and relief floods over you. Her lips are warm and soft against yours, you were overwhelmed in the best way possible, and you let out a soft moan. You feel her smirk against you, and her head shifts, lips moving to your neck and jawline.
“You have no idea,” she mumbles against your neck, “how long I’ve wanted to do this.”
“I had no idea,” you say breathlessly. Her lips find yours again before she pulls and looks into your eyes.
“How did you not know?” She asked.
“I just assumed I was reading too far into it,” you say, trying to catch your breath. “I thought I was overthinking things.”
She laughed and replied, “Ya know, Y/N, for a behavioral analyst, you can be really oblivious sometimes.”
“What do you mean?” You ask, puzzled.
“Y/N, we sat like this, on my couch almost every weekend.”
“I just thought you saw us as good friends.”
“Well, I would consider myself ‘good friends’ with Derek, but you don’t see me on top of him every week.” She says through a smile.
You laugh, and kiss her again. You realize suddenly that you can just do that, you can just kiss her, and she won’t push you away.
“I though you were the one who didn’t feel the same way,” she says softly, letting her eyes glance down from your face. “You pulled away, and I thought you realized how I felt and...” she trails off, but you couldn’t blame her for making this assumption.
“I’m sorry, Em.” You tilt your head so that your forehead rests against hers. “I made you feel like garbage and I’m so sorry.”
“S’okay,” her voice soothes you. “That part’s over now.”
You hum in agreement, and press a kiss on her forehead.
“And as much as I’d love to continue with this,” you say. “I am exhausted, and we have to be back at the station in less than 6 hours.”
She smiles, and you shift back down to where you were before. Your head on her chest, hand across her stomach, legs intertwined.
“Can we do this every time I get cold?” You joke.
“Absolutely,” she says immediately. “We can do this -and more- even when you aren’t cold.” You beam at her words, and snuggle into her even more, as she kisses the top of your head.
“You’re going to be the death of me, Emily Prentiss.”
You feel her hum beneath you, and you smile before quickly fall into a deep sleep.
—- The Next Morning —-
Derek Morgan listens to Reid explain, in depth, the plot of an entire season of some space show, and he does not retain a single word.
“Hey, kid, it’s too early for this.” Spencer looks a little deflated, so he pats him on the shoulder.
He hasn’t completely adjusted to the bright lights of the hotel lobby, and the lack of sleep wasn’t helping. He just wanted to get to the station, finish the case, catch an unsub, and nab the couch on the jet ride home before anyone else can get to it.
The ding of the elevator catches his attention, and he watches as you and Prentiss exit, smiles glued to your faces and hands intertwined. You were practically glowing. He knew that Something happened last night, and he knew it was a long time coming. His heart warmed at the sight, but it grew even warmer knowing that he just won the bet.
“Hey JJ,” he calls her over.
She looks to him, and he nods to the two women who are walking towards the group, casually pulling their hands apart as if no one noticed.
“Dammit,” she mutters.
He laughs, “Alrighty, hand it over.”
“Hand what over?” Emily questions, as the two of you reach the rest of the team.
“The $20 dollars that she owes me because I said that you two would finally figure yourselves out last night.” He says, only rubbing it in JJ’s face slightly. She sighs and passes him the bill.
“I’m sorry, you were betting on us?” Emily asks, surprised.
You sigh. You should have known. “Does Garcia owe you money too?” You ask.
“Of course she does,” he sings happily. His morning keeps getting better. “Then again, she put her money on the case before this one. She was optimistic, what can I say.”
You and Emily shake your heads at them, and move towards the doors of the hotel, ready to finish the case and get home.
Ohhh my god new Emily content I love you!!! I’ve been rewatching CM for like the 20th time again in quarantine and I’ve read what feels like every single Emily fic and I’m thirsting for new stuff thank you ahahshdjdv🙏🏼🙏🏼
lmao yes I’m in the same boat, and thank you !
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