#soft!emily prentiss

[hotchnisslvr]

for her, i’d endure

pairing: emily prentiss x reader

rating: t

word count: 7.6k

genre: angst, hurt/comfort

warnings: torture, descriptions of blood/injuries, drugs

summary: When you and Emily are kidnapped by The Chameleon, an elusive unsub that team had been tracking for years, you’re forced to watch her endure torture at his hands. In the hospital, you reel from your own injuries and the guilt of not being able to stop anything from happening to her. Angst and hurt/comfort with a happy end.

It’s hard to keep them open from the pain it causes you to try. You can’t help the slow drowsy blinking that follows. If they’re closed it doesn’t hurt as bad. Maybe this is a dream. Yeah, a dream. Just close your eyes and go to sleep, you tell yourself. You’ll feel fine in the morning.

Someone harshly whispers your name. You stir, but ignore it. Closing your eyes, you murmur something that isn’t quite a response, and try to welcome the darkness to take over. You just want to sleep whatever this is off…you try to at least. The harsh rasping whisper returns. There’s your name two, three times.

“Huh?” is all you can muster as you crack your eyes open once more. There’s a fluorescent light somewhere to your left, casting strange shadows over your field of vision. Your eyes burn. You want to close them again.

“Yes, that’s it!” cries the whisperer, “stay with me!” There’s an urgency in their voice, and as you take a few measured breaths, you gain more and more control over your senses. “Are you hurt?”

Emily. That’s Emily’s voice.

“My head,” you complain about the throbbing in your temples. “I think I hit my head.” You move to touch the side of your skull to assess the damage when your wrists don’t follow through with the command from your brain.

“What the—” There’s a sudden clarity that takes over as you hear the clatter of metal against metal. Your wrists are bound behind your back. You kick your legs out, or at least you try to. They’re bound too with zip ties to the legs of a metal chair that’s bolted to the floor.

“Don’t panic.”

“Emily?”

Fingers brush against yours from behind your back and you cling to them, though it’s awkward as you try to reach them. You’d know the feel of her hands anywhere. He’s got you and her back to back.

“I’m here,” she says soothingly, despite the edge in her voice.

“What happened?” you ask as your field of vision begins to clear and the picture of where you’re being held begins to form. It's dark save the fluorescent light you noticed earlier. There’s a few panels in the ceiling still flickering to life, though most are dark. Wires and cables hang haphazardly from the ceiling and water drips from a cracked pipe that stretches over the width of the room. The floor beneath your feet is concrete. You can’t see a door and the only windows are two small rectangles high near the ceiling. You’re underground. “Where are we?”

“The Chameleon,” Emily says after a short while.

Your heart skips a beat and you have to take a few measured breaths to keep the panic from creeping in. “You’re sure?”

The Chameleon, nicknamed such by the local media, is a serial killer that you and the team had been chasing across the East Coast for the last two years.You and the team didn’t care much for these nicknames as they often sensationalize the killer and detract from the victims, but it the name was fitting due to his nature to blend in to every environment he’s been a part of. This is largely due to how he is able to gain his victims' trust. Some of his known ruses include posing as law enforcement, a member of the clergy, other first responders, caretaker for a “lost” elderly patient, and more. He’d feign a scenario that caused the victims to unlock their doors, stop their cars, or otherwise pull their focus under the guise of safety. Once their guard was down, that was all he needed to ensnare them in his trap. Victims were initially blitz attacked, as evident by the bruising to their heads and faces, but as he evolved he began to dose them with heavy sedatives before taking them to a secondary location where he’d hold them for twenty four hours. During this time, he tortured his victims indiscriminately; sometimes cutting, sometimes burning, sometimes removing pieces of them or utilizing a combination of all three before ultimately succumbing to his need to kill. He favored a knife, often slitting the throats of his victims once he’d grown tired of playing with them. Despite his ability to blend in and kidnap his victims undetected, everything else originally pointed to someone just starting out, unsure of their preferences. However, this unsub evolved quickly. Victimology stopped differing and he’d settled on a pattern for women in their thirties, dark features, and often in roles that provided some sort of power. Though methods of torture varied, the rotation or combination of torture implicated states similar enough to create a pattern. He stuck to the routine, though. One woman every three months for the last two years. That was until recently. Now, a woman had been going missing weekly, suggesting a major deviation. Something had changed for this unsub, increasing his need to kill quicker and more often. Emily fits the victimology, but taking you too? It didn’t make sense? He’d never taken in pairs before.

“Fuck,” you mutter. You pull at the cuffs around your wrists, but they’re clamped too tightly. They don’t budge. “How long was I out?” you ask.

“Hours,” Emily responds. She sounds tired. “I don’t know how many.”

You blindly reach for her fingers again, this time with your other hand. When you brush against them, they’re slick with something.

“Emily?” you ask, concern edging into your voice. “What’s he done to you?”

“Cutting,” Emily answers clinically. “Left arm, chest, and right leg. They’re superficial.”

Red clouds your vision knowing he’d hurt the woman you love, and that you’d not been conscious enough to at least try to do anything about it. When you get your hands around this bastard’s neck…you yank hard against your restraints and hiss when all it does is cause the metal to dig deeper into your wrists.

“Baby, stop,” Emily whispers, keeping her voice low in case The Chameleon can hear. “We’ve been closing in on this guy. We just have to hope the team recognizes we’re gone before…” her voice trails off as a door opens.

Your heart stops and then starts, it’s usually steady beat now pumping erratically against your chest. You remind yourself to breathe, to take measured breaths to slow your heart and fight off the instinct to panic. The body’s natural inclination for self-preservation is astounding, but you couldn’t just think about yourself right now. You needed to be alert and look for anyway to wriggle into this guy’s psyche, anything to keep him from hurting Emily any further.

There’s a metallic clank as whatever door that’s out of your eye line slams shut. Heavy footsteps echo in the space and you count. Twenty four. There’s twenty four steps. You can’t fight the way your body tenses as a silhouette begins to emerge from the shadows. As the figure comes into focus, your eyes widen in surprise.

“Surprised to see me?” the man says, a twisted smile curving on his

“You know him?” Emily asks as she attempts to crane her neck to look at him.

You take in the man before you: white, mid-30s, average build, dark curly hair, and blue eyes wild with evil intent. You don’t know his name, but you've seen him before. You all had. Your mind flashes to each body dump where the team had investigated and gathered initial evidence to further flesh out the profile. You close your eyes and let your mind’s eye expand your field of vision to include the gathering crowd of onlookers. As you mentally guide yourself through each crime scene, you can clearly see him.

“You were there the whole time,” you say with a surprisingly level of calm as you open your eyes and meet his gaze directly.

He extends his arms to either side, a look-at-all-i-have-accomplished gesture, though there’s no audience save the two of you to take in his performance. “What can I say?” he says. “The media named me for my ability to blend in anywhere I go. I like the nickname, I do.” He points his finger at you as he begins to circle around you and Emily like you’re an injured seal in shark infested waters. “Though you profilers don’t like when these major news outlets do that. It sensationalizes the killer while taking away from victims.” He stops in front of you and bends at the waist to look you in the eye. You muster as much contempt into your gaze as possible.

“Good,” he snarls. “Those sluts aren’t worth remembering anyway. Any thoughts on that, agent?”

You nod. “Yeah, actually, I think I’m pretty tired of listening to you whine about your mommy issues.” A fire ignites in his eyes as you say this. You smirk. “Ooo, that did something. Did that strike a nerve?”

His lip curls as he takes a shuddering breath.

“I think I did, didn’t I?”

His knuckles collide with your face and there’s an explosion of stars behind your eyes as you feel your lip split in two. Emily calls your name and curses the unsub’s. There’s a buzzing in your ears as you blink the fog away. You sit up as best as you can and spit blood onto the floor. If his attention is on you, it’s not on Emily.

“Is that the best you can do?” you say, leveling your gaze back on The Chameleon. “You had to hit me from behind the first time. Are you scared to face a woman head on? Too much of a coward to face them? Or are you just too weak?” You incline your head toward your lap. “After all, you’ve got us tied up. Untie me and we’ll see just how well you do one on one.”

The Chameleon seethes, nostrils flaring as his rage blossoms. “You know nothing!” he bites.

“We know, everything.” You answer. He may not have been on the team’s radar, but you’ve seen this type before; a man that’s been forced into a submissive role and emasculated his entire life finally snaps and turns the tables on innocent women to make up for the lack of care he missed out on from a mother figure his entire life. He blames them because he can’t take his anger out on the person he wants to most. Mommy.

“Do you?” he sneers and you don’t flinch away from his hot breath on your neck.

“You’re easier to read than a children’s nursery rhyme,” you taunt.

The Chameleon snarls and this time his knuckles collide with the center of your face and there’s a sickening crunch. Blood pours from your broken nose onto the front of your shirt.

“Enough!” Emily shouts. “She’s not the one you want.”

You blink through the haze and blaring pain. Emily’s name is garbled as you try to say it, but there’s too much blood in your mouth. Just like the flickering gaze of a reptile, his eyes shift instantly to her. The desire that alights his face makes you want to throw up. She’s the one that fits the victimology. She’s the surrogate, the object of desire in his twisted fantasy.

“I think,” he says slowly, and you’re surprised you don’t see a serpentine tongue flicker between his lips. “That this next part will be more fun with an audience.”

Your vision shifts in and out of focus as you follow his movements. He shuffles just out of view of your peripheral vision and trying to force your eyes to see farther than they can exacerbates the splitting pain in your skull and face. Everything throbs. You can hardly see straight.

He returns with a syringe in hand. He holds it up for you to see. “Maybe I am weak,” he says bitterly. “But I’m the one in control and there’s nothing you can do about it.” He pushes the syringe into your arm and a slow, metallic heat creeps through your veins. Your limbs quickly grow heavy and your senses begin to dull.

Behind you, Emily pulls at her restraints. “Hey! What are you giving her? Leave her alone. You don’t want her, you want me.”

A choked laugh escapes the unsub as he cuts the zip ties at your ankles. You want to kick out at him and knock that smug look off of his face but the signals from your brain are cut off. Your body won’t follow the command your mind is ordering due to the drugs scrambling your system. Your eyelids are heavy. You want to close them. The unsub recognizes this and slaps at your face. “No, no. You can’t close your eyes, now. You’ve got a show to watch.” His lips twist into a sickeningly delighted smile. He slips a key from his pocket and undoes both sets of cuffs keeping you bound to the chair. You slump forward against him and he catches your weight easily. He wraps his arms around your waist and grunts as he hoists you over his shoulder. There’s static coursing through your limbs and despite every wish and desire to lift even a finger, your limbs don’t cooperate.

You slide off of him like rain down a windowpane, though instead of coming to a gentle stop you hit the ground like a stone thrown into a pond; all of your weight crashing down. Your head rattles against the wall and stars explode across your vision once more.

Emily calls your name and you try to focus on that. You blink and her form comes into focus. She’s bound in the same manner that you were in a chair exactly like yours. There’s blood staining her clothes, her blouse cut to ribbons and her pant leg tattered from where he slit it open with a knife; the same knife he used to cut into skin. Blood drips onto the floor.

She smiles at you and her gaze is so tender as her eyes meet yours. “Whatever he does to me, it is not your fault.” She’s soothing you. She’s about to endure more torture and she’s trying to comfort you.

You want to speak, to tell her you’re sorry, that you love her. You want to stand, to untie her and take her to safety. Most of all you want to put that unsub in the ground. A single tear leaks from your eye as The Chameleon wheels a tray table near Emily. The soft eyes she reserved for you steel upon seeing him.

He picks up a scalpel, his fingers gentle as he curls them around it; a stark contrast to the violence he inflicts with it. “Let’s get started, shall we?”

Emily licks her lips and raises her chin to look him in the eye, defiant in the face of danger. “I’ve already come back from the dead once before. At least if you’re successful, I know whose ass I’m haunting first.” She narrows her brown eyes to slits. “Come on, lizard boy. Let’s dance.”

•

Tears leak down your cheeks as you’re forced to watch what he does to her. She continues to taunt him, but her voice has grown weak. She’s losing too much blood.

“I wonder,” Emily says, her breathing labored. She lifts her gaze to meet the unsub’s. “You love that knife.” She inclines her chin toward the blade in his hand and his fingers twitch. “Tell me, is it because you can’t get up? Are our mommy issues too severe?”

A wild scream tears from his throat as he backhands her. A sharp grunt of pain leaves her lips but no scream. She sheds no tears for him. She’ll show no fear to him and allow him to feed off of her emotions like he did with his other victims, but he knows she must be feeling the weight of the torture, of the exhaustion settling in.

Her voice is tired, but her words are dagger tipped. “You’re not a man,” she spits blood on the ground, her teeth stained with it as she bares them at him. “You’re just a coward, a little boy missing mommy’s hand to guide him through your pathetic, wayward life.” Each word is sharp and articulated, a needle digging a little deeper and deeper into his flesh with each cutting syllable.

“Enough!” he bellows, spittle flying from his mouth as he lifts his arm. In one swift downward motion, he plunges the scalpel into her thigh.

She screams, her voice ragged and raw. A panicked sound bubbles in your throat, but the drugs overpower your ability to call out to her. Your fingers twitch as you try to summon any amount of strength to them, but to no avail. You can’t move them anymore that. You try to wiggle your toes and only feel a tinge of movement from them. Tears leak down your cheeks and drip off of your chin. The tear stains left behind are cold overtop of the dried blood smeared across your face from your broken nose, still throbbing with pain.

Emily sits hunched over, her shoulders heave with shuddering breaths. She’s breathing. She’s alive. She’s alive. She’s alive. The thought plays on repeat in your mind. If she dies, there is no place this slimy, spineless creature can hide where you wouldn’t be able to find him.

A strangled moan rumbles from behind your lips as The Chameleon approaches Emily. There’s a smirk on his lips as he brushes his fingers along her jawline. Just as quickly as the smirk appears, it dissipates as he shoves her face away from him, disgust twisting his features.

“I think I’ve had enough of you,” he grits through clenched teeth. “You’re all the same. There is no place for women like you. I’m doing the world a favor by getting rid of you.” He picks up another knife off the tray table and moves to stand behind Emily, knife poised beneath her throat. His shifting eyes fall on you and his smile returns. “I hope you’ve enjoyed the show.”

You feel your brow pinch as a wash of emotion floods through you. Your hand twitches and you manage to ball it into a fist, but you can’t force much more than that.

“Emi—” your tongue lolls inside your mouth and you can’t get her name out but it’s enough to get her attention. Her wavering brown eyes fall on yours and you hope she can feel your full apology and profession of love in your eyes as you await the inevitable.

“I love you,” she mouths and a sob shudders free from your own.

A single gunshot cracks through the air like a whip.

As the unsub slumps to the ground, Derek’s hulking frame comes into view. “He’s down!” He calls as he holsters his weapon and rushes to Emily. His hand moves to the knife in her leg.

“Don’t!” Emily warns. “Let the medics handle it. The keys to the cuffs are in his pocket.”

As Derek squats beside the unsub Hotch and Spencer clamber down the stairs, spilling into the room.

“We need medics,” Derek says to them, eyes filled with concern. “We need them now.”

“Copy that,” Spencer states as he presses against his earpiece and relays the information.

Hotch holsters his gun and rushes to your side. Crouching down, his hands smooth your hair back from your face to inspect the damage.

“Can you hear me?” he says. You blink heavily as his face comes in and out of focus. He repeats the question and says your name. He’s asking you to talk to him, but you can’t.

“He injected her with something,” Emily says weakly as Derek works to uncuff her. “A sedative or a paralytic, I don’t know. She can’t move. She can’t, she can’t—” Emily’s eyes flutter and roll back in her head. Your eyes widen as she slumps forward. Derek catches her before she can face plant the concrete and risk dislodging the scalpel sticking out of her thigh before the medics can do their job to ensure she’s not at risk of bleeding out, if she wasn’t already.

Your hand twitches, fingers jerking against your palm as a sound of desperation eeks past your still lips. Hotch presses his hand into yours and squeezes. His hard eyes meet yours and there’s pain and understanding in them. He’s born witness to seeing the love of his life killed by an unsub. It was something he wouldn’t wish on his worst enemy. He had to hope that Emily would survive what she’d endured here tonight. He squeezes all of that hope into your palm as the medics crash down the steps, backboards and kits at the ready.

“She’ll be okay,” Hotch promises, though there’s a hint of doubt on the edge of his words. “You’ll be okay.”

As the medics make way and his hand slips free from yours, you can only hope and pray that what he says is true.

•

A gentle beeping is the first thing you hear as your senses slowly creep back to life. The sound is soft, but each punctuated tone sends a pulse of pain to the space behind your eyes.

Your eyes crack open and you squeeze them shut again as the bright white of the fluorescent lighting blinds you.

“Shit,” you hiss. Your voice is hoarse.

“Hey, you!” greets a female voice. Penelope’s voice.

“Too bright,” you grumble.

“Oh! Hold on!” Her heels click against the tile of the hospital floor, a switch flicks, and the light behind your eyelids darkens. You feel the relief immediately though the bruising around your eyes and throbbing pain reverberating through your nose and cheeks starts to overwhelm your senses as you become more alert.

You crack one eye and Penelope’s bright face comes into view. Her pink cat eared headband matches her glasses frames and lipstick. Her smile reaches her eyes and that only just eases some of the anxiety that floods your system, the only other thing you’re able to feel besides the pain. If Emily was dead, Penelope wouldn’t be able to look you in the eye right now.

“I need to see her,” you say, sitting up and immediately regretting it. The room spins and your hand flies to your head, fingers pressed against your temple in a poor attempt to stop the whirling sensation.

“Sweetie, oh my God, don’t—” she stands up and crosses the room, but you’re already pushing the sheets back.

You curse as you rip the IV from your arm, the tape holding it in place ripping out the hairs on your arm. Garcia tries to take hold of your hands, but you bury them inside the folds of the hospital gown as your fingers feel for the numerous electrodes tacked to your chest. Hooking the tips of your fingers around the wire once you find a place to bunch them together, one swift tug is all it takes to dislodge them. The machine beside the bed flat lines as it no longer receives your heart rate.

“Honey please don’t make me—” Her face scrunches as you move to stand. She sticks her arms out to block you from doing so “Oh, you’re going to make me, ok— Derek! Hotch!”

Her shouts are like a drill through your skull. You blink and black spots your vision as it blurs. The pain in your face is so intense, but you have to push through it. If Emily could endure what she did, you can push through this to get to wherever the hell they were keeping her in this goddamn hospital.

Hotch and Derek burst into the room, eyes frantic and scanning the scene. Morgan swiftly cuts through the space, swerving in front of Penelope and taking you by the arms. Garcia may have hesitated to stop you in your tracks but Derek has no reservations whatsoever.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” he asks sternly.

Two nurses rush into the room and Hotch placates them with a gesture implying things are under control . He says something to them in a low voice and they glance your way once before nodding and leaving the space.

“I need to see her,” you say as you push against Derek, but in your current state you may as well be trying to push the Leaning Tower of Pisa upright.

His grip around your wrists is firm, but gentle; his hands placed just above the bandages from where the cuffs had bitten into your skin.

“She’s not awake yet,” Derek says. His features soften as he looks into your panic filled eyes. “She’s stable. She’ll be okay, and I promise you that the minute she wakes up I will take you to see her.”

“But Derek—”

He clicks his tongue. “No buts. You’re no use to her if you’re not well. You nearly overdosed on the drugs that man gave you. He broke your nose so badly, they had to re-break it to set it correctly. You have a concussion. Are you hearing me? You need to get your ass back in that bed.”

“Honey, listen to him.” Garcia adds, her voice equal parts soothing and concerned. “You can barely stand.”

You squeeze your eyes shut as hot tears well in your eyes. They slip down your cheeks and seep into the medical tape plastered to your face and nose. You draw in a shuddering breath as Derek guides you back into the bed. He presses a warm hand to your shoulder before stepping back and putting an arm around Garcia.

“Come on, mama, let’s go get a coffee while the nurses get her hooked back in.”

Penelope’s mouth drops into an o-shape as if she’s about to protest.

“I’ll stay with her,” Hotch assures her. “Go. I’ll call if anything changes.” That comforts her enough to let Derek steer her out of the room and into the hallway.

As the sound of their footsteps fade away, Hotch exhales a heavy sigh. The heels of his loafers click against the tile as he crosses the room and takes the chair Penelope had been occupying at your bedside.

“How are you feeling?” he asks as he reaches over and presses the call button to summon the nurses.

“Like someone cracked me in the face with a sledgehammer.”

A hint of a smile passes over your supervisor’s lips and a ghost of a laugh passes your own. You wince as the motion sends a new wave of pain rippling throughout your face.

“How bad is it?” you ask.

“The doctors say it should heal fine. They’re baffled that the break didn’t do any damage to your septum. The bruising will take time but you won’t need surgery so—”

You lift your eyes to meet his. “Not me, Hotch.”

His lips press into a firm line. “She lost a lot of blood,” he says after a moment. “In total, he cut her about fifteen times before stabbing her. She was right to tell Morgan not to pull the scalpel out. It was dangerously close to her femoral artery. The unsub was either incredibly calculated in avoiding it or it was dumb luck that saved her.”

Your brow pinches as his words sink in. “What was his name?”

Hotch’s chin dips in response to your question. “Carson Peters. He was a Vet Tech on the perimeter of the geographic profile. We never even interviewed him.”

“The whole time we never knew his name,” you breathe.

“If I know Emily, I’m sure she came up with a few,” Hotch remarks, trying to lighten the mood.

Your lips twitch, but a smile doesn’t take shape. There is an entire slew of names you’d wanted to hurl at the unsub, to say anything that would have taken his attention off of Emily for even a second but you couldn’t because of the drugs he’d pumped into you. You squeeze your eyes shut as an image of him cutting Emily flashes through your mind.

Hotch says your name. You hear the deep tenor of his voice, but it’s as though you’re underwater. Emily’s cries of anguish echo in your ears.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper as a tear leaks from the corner of your eyes. “Emily, I’m sorry.”

A firm hand slips into yours and you gasp, flinching from the contact. The image distorts and vanishes. You open your eyes and take a deep breath, dropping your gaze onto the hand in yours. You lift your eyes to meet Hotch’s hard stare. His fingers squeeze around yours and he nods.

“You’re safe,” he assures you. “Carson Peters is dead. He can’t hurt you, Emily, or anyone else ever again.”

Your fingers twitch around his as you blink back the onslaught of tears that want to pour out of you. “I couldn’t do anything.”

Hotch’s features soften. “I know.”

“I couldn’t stop him.”

“There’s nothing you could’ve done.”

You swallow the growing lump in your throat. Hotch squeezes your hand again, intentionally doing so to keep your mind from wandering. He’s keeping you grounded.

Your voice cracks when you speak. “I felt so helpless.”

“I know,” Hotch states as he levels his gaze on hours. His brown eyes waver as he speaks. “Witnessing a loved one’s abuse and not being able to do anything about it is a torture all its own. In our positions we have the authority to do something about it and in most cases, we can. When we can’t,” he pauses and takes a deep breath. “It’s natural to play it over and over again, to wonder where you went wrong, to think that somewhere along the line you could’ve done something, anything, to change the outcome.” His brow lifts toward his hairline. “We will kill ourselves ruminating on the what ifs and what could have beens.”

We. He’s not just talking about you anymore. He’s talking about his past when the unsub George Foyet killed his wife, Haley. You’d joined the team several years after her murder, but you’d been briefed fully on the case. It was well known to everyone in the BAU.

It’s your turn to squeeze his hand and you realize how out of the ordinary this exchange is. You’re as close to Hotch as anyone else on the team, but he’s not usually the touchy-feely type; the occasional half hug or handshake sure, but this level of vulnerability is uncommon.

A nurse walks into the room and Hotch stands to greet her. He shakes her hand and introduces himself formally; name, rank, and title. Establishing credibility for what, you wonder. He speaks in low tones and after a moment the nurse looks at you before looking back at him. She nods her head and he thanks her before she exits the room.

“What was that about?” you ask.

“A favor,” he answers as the nurse guides a wheelchair into the room.

“Five minutes,” the nurse says, aiming a pointed look at Hotch.

“Understood.”

The nurse leaves and Hotch pushes the chair up to the edge of the bed. He slips a hand behind your back to help stabilize you as he extends his other hand for you to grab hold of.

“Where are we going?” you ask as you take the proffered hand. You groan as you sit up and your head spins. You swear you can feel every bone in your face throbbing as pain threatens to split you in two.

“To see Emily.”

Your heart swells. You look at Hotch, eyes widening. “I thought—”

“I told the nurse you’d stay put and allow them to do their jobs and help you if you were allowed to see her. Hence, the five minutes.”

“Five minutes,” you repeat, nodding your head.

Hotch smiles reassuringly. “Five minutes.”

Slowly, Hotch assists with the transition from bed to chair. The shift exhausts you and it sinks in just how weak you are. However, the prospect of seeing Emily keeps you alert enough to push through.

The trip to Emily’s hospital room is short. She’s two right turns and one long hallway away from yours. The door to her room is cracked when you arrive and JJ opens it as Hotch reaches for the door.

“Sweetie!” JJ smiles brightly at you, though her eyes are tired. She leans down to pull you in a gentle hug, minding your face as she does so.

Her eyes flit between you and Hotch. “She’s in and out of consciousness. They’ve got her on some pretty strong painkillers, but she’s going to be alright.”

“Are you ready?” Hotch asks.

Your heart hammers in your ears, but you nod your head and whisper, “Yes.”

JJ steps out of the way so Hotch can wheel you inside the room. You raise your chin to peer over the threshold and whimper upon seeing Emily, hand moving to cover your trembling lips. She lies still beneath the sheets, which are pulled up over her lap. Her arms sit atop the sheet, her left arm bandaged from above the elbow to her wrist. Bandages peek out from beneath her hospital gown. An oxygen cannula is fitted under her nose and butterfly bandages hold close the split in her eyebrow. Hotch puts the brake in place after wheeling you right up to her bedside. He places a gentle hand on your shoulder. “JJ and I will be right outside. Five minutes,” he says.

Your eyes don’t leave Emily. “I understand.”

When the door clicks shut you let the floodgates open. You take Emily’s hand in yours, minding the IV jutting out from it, and cradle it to your cheek. “I’m so sorry,” you sob. “I’m so sorry I couldn’t do anything to stop what he was doing to you.”

You blink away the stars that dot your vision as each sob sends an intense wave of pain through the break in your nose and bruising under your eyes.

Emily’s thumb sweeps slowly across your cheek. You take a shuddering breath and swallow your tears as you turn your attention to her. Her eyes crack open and a small smile ghosts her lips.

You gasp and choke back a sob. The smile that splits your face sends a burst of pain through your bones, but you don’t care. It doesn’t matter. You’d feel this pain and all that she endured to see her warm, brown eyes on yours like they are now. Her smile, despite the pain meds dulling her senses, reaches her eyes and they’re so bright. As you look into them, for a moment you’re no longer in the hospital. You’re on a bench overlooking the Potomac and the sun is setting; its golden rays falling over Emily’s face and her eyes changed from brown to liquid gold. It was then you knew you’d never love looking into someone’s eyes as much as you loved looking into hers, that you’d never love anyone as much as you loved her.

You blink once and you’re back in the hospital. “I’m so sorry,” you blubber and clutch her hand to your chest. “Baby, I’m so sorry.”

Her voice is hoarse when she speaks, but the way she says your name is as soothing as ever. She shushes you and presses her fingers into your skin as she grips your hand. “Shh, baby, honey, look at me.”

You swallow and try your best to still your quivering lip as you raise your eyes to hers. Hers are focused as she looks at you. Her perfectly manicured eyebrows arch toward her hairline as she inclines her head toward you. “There is nothing that you could’ve done that would’ve prevented this, and that is okay.”

You squeeze your eyes shut and shake your head in refusal.

“Hey,” Emily says, pulling you back in. “Look at me.”

You sniff and take a deep breath as you open your eyes. “If anything,” she adds. “Your being there saved my life. He drew out the torture because he had an audience. If you hadn’t been there, there’s a chance he would’ve killed me before the team got to him. Do you understand?”

Your gut response tells you that she’s right, and you have to fight the part of your brain that’s telling you otherwise.

Her hand slips out of yours and reaches to cup your face, keeping her palm along your jawline to avoid your injuries.

She smiles and gestures to herself with her other hand. “Most of this is superficial anyway. The knife he jammed into my thigh will scar and take a while to heal, but that’s the worst that was done to me. I was,” she presses her lips together as tears glisten in her eyes. “I was so worried about you.”

Something between a laugh and a sob escapes your lips. “We make quite a pair, don’t we?”

Emily laughs in turn, the sound enough to make your heart swell three times over. “At least we’ll be able to spend our recovery together,” she says hopefully.

You smirk and tilt your head, considering. “My place or yours?”

Just then the door creaks open and Hotch steps inside. He smiles. “Sorry to cut the reunion short, but if I don’t get you back, I think the charge nurse will have my gun and badge.”

You all share a laugh. As he fixes the brake on the wheelchair, Emily tugs your hand toward her mouth and places a soft kiss to the backs of your knuckles. “I’ll see you soon, okay?”

You smile and nod as the tight feeling in your chest from before ebbs away. “Okay.”

As Hotch exits the room with you in tow, JJ hands you two cups of coffee. “For you and your watchdog,” she says with a nod towards Hotch.

You thank her and as Hotch pushes you back towards your room, you finally feel like things will be okay.

•

Two weeks later, you’re still on medical leave, but you feel as though you're getting back to normal. You’d been released from the hospital first and a few days later, Emily. Her apartment was bigger, so you’d gone to yours and with help from Penelope packed a bag. It was easier for you two to be in the same place knowing how often the team would be checking in.

Garcia had stayed over with you, helping you keep track of the medications the doctors had prescribed. She helped take care of Sergio too. The little guy had been all too happy to see you, weaving in between your legs and rubbing his furry head against your calves. When Emily returned home a few days later he couldn’t stop meowing. When she rested, he’d fall asleep beside her or curled up in her lap.

Just as expected, members of the team had been through in pairs, on their own, or as a whole. Penelope stopped in daily with coffees and pastries from the shop next to Emily’s building. Derek came by every other day, occasionally with Savannah when her work schedule allowed. She’d checked Emily’s wounds a few times from your insisting as you were worried about infection. Savannah assured you each time that Emily was and would continue to be fine so long as she kept up with changing her bandages and taking the antibiotics she’d been prescribed. Hotch had only visited once, which was unnecessary but still so kind of him. You knew he often stayed late working to ensure everyone else could go home on time. He did this all while balancing his responsibility as a father and the fact that he sacrificed a little bit more of his personal time just to check in on you two meant so much. Rossi had sent homemade Italian with Penelope or Derek. This week you’d been given enough carbonara to feed an army.

You’re fixing two bowls now for you and Emily, a late dinner as you’d both fallen asleep around 3pm and napped until 7pm no thanks to the pain medicines that kept you two on relatively similar sleep schedules. You shred some parmesan and sprinkle it over the top before sticking a fork into each.

“I’ve got dinner!” you call as you make your way back to the bedroom.

“Thank god, I’m starving.” You push open the door with your hip and place the bowls on Emily’s bedside table.

You lean down and kiss her, wincing slightly. The bruising around your eyes and cheekbones has gone down dramatically, but your nose was still bound and held in place by a splint and medical tape. The doctors say in about a week or so, it should be healed completely but to still exercise caution with day to day activities.

Emily rests on top of the covers. Her hair is up and out of her face in a loose ponytail, pieces of which had fallen out while sleeping and now stick to and around her face in various places. You try your best to smooth them down before cupping her chin in your hand. You smile and stroke your fingers along the smooth skin of her jaw before dropping your hands to pull the throw blanket down off of her waist, exposing her legs, bare except for the plaid pajama shorts she wears and bandages wrapped around her thigh.

She shivers in response to the air against her legs. “Sheesh, give a girl some warning!” she protests and you throw her a cheeky grin.

You open the bedside drawer and retrieve the supplies to clean and dress her wound. “We should finish the rest of that movie,” you suggest as you climb onto the bed to kneel beside her. Using a small pair of scissors, you carefully snip away the bandages to reveal the square gauze pad covering the wound. “I want to know how it ends and we keep falling asleep.”

Emily snorts. “That’ll happen when we both take narcotics before bed thinking we’ll make it to the end.”

“Yeah, but,” you remove the gauze and inspect the incision, searching for any signs of infection around the twelve carefully placed stitches. As you squeeze a bit of the antibacterial ointment onto your finger and gently rub it over the spiky black threads of the sutures, you can’t help but think of how much it resembles the caterpillars that used to invade the trees in your backyard as a kid, a story Emily did not care for your retelling when you first did this. “It shouldn’t be so hard to make it through a two hour movie.”

“I still can’t believe you’ve never seen The Parent Trap,” Emily says, bristling as your fingers rub over a particularly sensitive area.

You apologize as you lay a fresh gauze pad over the wound. Your fingers move quickly as you unroll and wind a new roll of bandages to keep the gauze in place. When you finish, you wipe your hands off and gently massage the skin around her thigh knowing it helps to stimulate blood flow to the area.

Emily moans in response to the treatment. Her head lolls to the side and she peeks at you from behind long lashes. “I can’t wait to show you how grateful I am for your incredible nursing skills.”

You arch a brow at her as a smile quirks at the corner of your mouth. “Down girl,” you tease playfully.

Emily bends her opposite leg, raising her heel to curve around your body. She pokes her toes up under your tee shirt and your back stiffens as they touch your skin. You reach behind your back and grab her by the ankle, chastising her as you laugh and place it back on the mattress. “Emily!”

“What??” she asks, laughter tumbling from her full lips.

“We’ve not been cleared yet for that!”

She pouts in response and you clamber over her, carefully, so as not to disturb the injuries of her leg. You straddle her waist and lean down to place a soft kiss along the curve of her jaw. “Trust me, I want to get back to that as much as you do.” Your eyes drop to the swell of her breasts, her nipples poking through the thin fabric of her camisole. “But you and I both know neither one of us are capable of having gentle sex, and I don’t think our doctors would be happy if we did anything to make this take any longer than it already is.”

Emily groans in frustration. “Stupid doctors and their stupid orders.”

You laugh as you lean down to grab your dinners off her nightstand. Carefully, you lift your leg and roll over her body to your side of the bed; passing Emily her bowl as you do so. You reach down and pull the throw blanket up over both of you as you snuggle into the uninjured half of her body. She turns and places a kiss on your temple as she grabs the remote and clicks on the tv.

As she twirls pasta around on her fork, she turns to you and smiles. “I’m glad you’re here with me,” she says, eyes twinkling.

You smile in turn. “I can’t think of anywhere else I’d rather be than with you here, right now, at this moment in time.”

“I love you,” she says.

“Not as much as I love you,” you answer.

“Impossible,” Emily promises.

#criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fic #aaron hotchner criminal minds #emily prentiss x you #emily prentiss fic #emily prentiss fanfiction #emily prentiss x reader #emily prentiss x y/n #bau reader #the bau team #emily prentiss x female reader #fem!reader #emily prentiss angst #emily prentiss hurt/comfort #emily prentiss drabble #soft!aaron hotchner #soft!emily prentiss #aaron hotchner #emily prentiss #aaron hotch fanfiction #derek morgan #penelope garcia #bau!reader #female reader #criminal minds angst #criminal minds hurt/comfort #emily prentiss headcannons #bau team #bau family

[nadjantipaxos]

Emily Prentiss, Aaron Hotchner & Penelope Garcia – Criminal Minds 3.17 & 6.17

#the way emily says 'im sorry im late' lfdjskfs its more like 'i actually dont want to be here IM LITERALLY BEING HUNTED FOR FUCKING SPORT' #criminal minds #emily prentiss #aaron hotchner #penelope garcia #hotchniss #criminalmindsedit #cm gifs #ANYWAY hotch has a soft spot for garcia but an even bigger one for emily 🤭 #*mine

[em-prentiss]

The fact that canonically Aaron is so soft with his lovers makes my heart so warm. He’s gentle and loving with Haley (until everything goes to shit) and he’s so sweet and playful with Beth omg. He’s always smiling, his tone is always light and teasing, and his EYES. The way he looks at them😩!!! And he can be silly and funny and endearingly awkward (like when he was trying to ask Beth out <3). It makes me feel so much better about writing sappily soft Aaron with Emily because that’s literally how he is in canon, he’s so serious at work but with his so’s he just lets go.

I’m in love with one (1) man your honor.

#aaron hotchner #emily prentiss #hotchniss #criminal minds #if this man loved me I’d never have a thing to complain about #ever #soft aaron hotchner exists!! #em yaps

[criminalmindsfanantic]

Emily: I give up. I am so tired.

Penelope: Get the emergency supply!

Derek: *carries JJ and places her in front of Emily*

JJ: *smiles*

Emily: AND I AM BACK BABY, LET’S GOOO

#chaoticbau #they’re gay your honor #so gay dude #jemily #jennifer jareau #emily prentiss #criminal minds #cm #incorrect criminal minds #incorrect cm #incorrect criminal minds quotes #derek morgan #penelope garcia #soft #fluff #comfort

[elssbethtascioni]

Emily Prentiss + Lauren Reynolds

#emily prentiss #criminal minds #cmedit #criminalmindsedit #paget brewster #cm 6x18 #cm 6x14 #usercrime #dailytvwomen #femaledaily #usermilf #tvedit #there's just something about the softness of the lauren look that gets to me #also the effect being this different for so long must have had on her...oof #wish they would bring this up more often bc fuck #anyway she's so beautiful i love her #and the tongue thing in the first one kills me every time #* #mine

[emberfrostlovesloki]

CM Artist Shout Out

Photos by @hannaloony

Y'all what can Hanna not do! Look at how ✨C✨U✨T✨E✨ these are. The pastel aesthetic is so lovely and so spring-coded. The kawaii Spencer and Garcia at the top with the coffee and bears! The look on Hotch's face in the top right! AGH I just love it so so so much! Thank you so much for sharing your art with us. These make me so, so happy. I've made the top left pic the background of my PC. Please check out @hannaloony's page for more great content like this!

If you are looking for other cool, nifty, keen Criminal Minds content creators of all kinds, feel free to check out my Aaron Hotchner and CM Content Creator Spotlight (linked).

Text Break Banner by @cafekitsune

Just another little update from me: I'm sorry I've been so inactive on here. Once the semester is over I fully plan on coming back with a vengeance. I have so many ideas I want to write about and one restest to write (I am so excited about this one!) I hope you are all doing okay and have a good start to your week - Love Levi 💛

Tag list (🩷) (@tgskitten)

#criminal minds #artist spotlight #hannaloony #criminal minds art #cozy art #pastel aesthetic #soft reid #soft hotch #bau family #cm #aaron hotcher #emily prentiss #spencer reid #derek morgan #penelope garcia #love love love #art aesthetic #digital art #not my art

[hookechoes]

"you actually died?" reid literally became a five year old child in that moment, god

#so soft. so sad. wheres his emmy #criminal minds #spencer reid #emily prentiss

[jenny-from-the-bau]

#gay #soft butch emily prentiss #emily prentiss #cmedit #cmedits #cm edit #criminal minds #cm

[sequinsmile-x]

Sat here thinking about a smut fic where they are newly dating but Aaron always stops them from going any further than making out. Eventually Emily snaps because she thinks it’s something to do with her but he admits he’s never slept with anyone except Haley and he’s a little gun shy xoxo

#and then the smut is soft and sweet #he married his high school sweetheart #so it makes sense #hotchniss #hotchniss fanfiction #aaron hotchner x emily prentiss #hotchniss fanfic #aaron hotchner #emily prentiss #aaron hotchner fanfiction #emily prentiss fanfiction #Hotchniss smut

[jenna-reads04]

I don't want you like a best friend (Emily Prentiss x reader)

Author's Note: Hi! I'm on spring break right now, so I decided to write my first Emily Prentiss x reader oneshot! This is based on the Taylor Swift song "Dress," where y/n is part of the BAU team and is best friends with Emily. In the flashback portion, I didn't really know how undercover agents wear wires, so I just made it up for the purposes of sexual tension. Sorry if it's inaccurate. This is also my first attempt at smut, so sorry if it's bad and constructive feedback is welcome. :)

Disclaimers: I do not own the lyrics to the song or the characters from Criminal Minds! (I also do not own the GIF above).

Word Count: 4.1k

Content Warnings: Soft!Emily, fem!reader, use of y/n, friends to lovers, soft smut (18+ only please), fluff, and bits of Penelope x Derek

****

You and the rest of the BAU team had just finished up a rough case in which you'd had to go undercover in order to seduce the potential unsub, much to your dismay. As much as you'd hated pretending to be attracted to that disgusting dick of a man, it had worked, and the case was thankfully over. Now, a small group of the team had decided to finish the night at a bar to decompress. Emily, JJ, and Penelope were on the dance floor, and you and Derek were sitting at the bar, sipping alcohol. Although your male friend usually took this time to hit on women, you sensed something had recently changed.

Even though the case was over, you'd been wearing a new dress you recently bought to aid in the "seduction." You couldn't help but notice the way Emily had been staring at you ever since you put it on, and her darkened gaze set off the butterflies in your stomach every time.

*Flashback to earlier that day*

"Hey, Em," you spoke through the office door. "Can you come in and help me with this wire real quick? I can't quite reach where it needs to go." You currently had the dress halfway on, your top half just covered with a black lace bra. It's possible you could've tried a little harder to get the wire on properly, but that's what best friends are for, right?

"Okay, I'm coming in," Emily replied before walking through the door. She attempted to avoid eye contact with you, immediately walking around to your backside to help get the wire in place. It needed to be threaded under your bra clasp, so it wouldn't just be hanging loosely and easy to see through your tight dress.

As Emily lifted your bra clasp and her fingers grazed the skin of your back, you had to prevent a gasp from leaving your mouth. Once she'd gotten the wire situated, she came back around to your front with the mic.

The brunette lifted the bottom of your bra strap, being not-so-careful about touching the skin at the top of your breast, and fastened the mic there. A gasp may have accidentally escaped your lips at her soft touch that time.

She finally met your eyes, and a faint blush was resting on her cheeks (or was it just your imagination?). "All set, y/n," she smiled as you pulled the thin straps of your dark blue dress over your shoulders.

"Thanks, Em," you said in a slightly squeaky voice, mentally cringing at the sound. She just grinned at you and began approaching the door when you realized you'd actually need help zipping the dress too. "Oh wait, can you zip me before you go?"

She nodded, moving to your back again. She gently moved your curled, y/h/c hair to the side, fingers ghosting the back of your neck as she slowly pulled the zipper up your back. Your skin erupted in gooseflesh at her touch.

Hopefully she just thinks I'm cold, you thought.

Emily once again walked around to your front, quickly glancing over your body, and you felt a warmth spread over your face at her heavy gaze.

"Look at you," she murmured. "You're absolutely stunning, it's a shame this dress is going to waste on an idiot unsub like this."

The raven-haired beauty started coming closer to you, and you knew your face was growing as red as her top.

You swallowed hard, not knowing what to say. "Well maybe -," and the two of you stepped apart as a knock sounded on the door.

"Y/n, are you ready? We need to get moving." At the familiar sound of Hotch's voice, you were both back in business mode, ready to catch the unsub.

You quickly moved to the door and opened it. "Ready," you spoke firmly and confidently, despite how your best friend's actions and words had shaken up your thoughts.

*End of Flashback*

You were pulled out of your reverie by Derek teasing, "Y/n, if you stare at Prentiss any harder, she might realize you're in love with her."

Your eyes widened at his observation. "What? I am not, I was just zoning out!" you exclaimed over the dance music that was playing.

Derek chuckled, "Sure, and it just so happened to be in the direction where your 'best friend' is dancing against another woman."

You frowned at that, having not realized that Emily was dancing, or rather grinding on another woman. Maybe you read too much into your interaction from earlier that afternoon.

Derek grinned at your reaction, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder. "Don't worry, y/n. She loves you too - I can tell when Prentiss is trying to drown out her feelings."

You sighed at his words, feeling a bit relieved, but still worried. What if he was wrong?

Then, you noticed someone going onstage at the front of the bar. "Oh God, I forgot Fridays are karaoke nights," you groaned.

Penelope and JJ approached the two of you, having just left the dance floor, the technical analyst bubbly as ever. "Y/N, why the sad face?" She and Derek shared a knowing look before she gasped, "Oh my God, you should totally sing a Taylor Swift song! I've heard you sing, so I know you can!" she exclaimed over the current singer's drunken rendition of Lady Gaga's "Born this Way."

You groaned once again, "I don't know, Pen, I'm not feeling very confident tonight."

"What?" Penelope gasped. "But you look so hot in that dress, and you arrested an unsub in it!"

JJ nodded in agreement. "Yeah, and plus, blue is definitely your color!" she encouraged.

You had to smile at your friends' compliments, they really knew how to hype a girl up. Their words about your dress made you think of Taylor's song "Dress" and the implications it had. Maybe that's how you could confess your feelings to Emily, but would she understand it's about her?

"Do you think I could pull of 'Dress?'" you asked the blondes hesitantly, already feeling the butterflies fluttering in your stomach.

"Oh for sure!" Penelope reassured excitedly. "You'd sound so hot singing that one!" Derek looked at her questioningly at that comment, and it suddenly became clear why he hadn't been trying to pick up girls that night.

"What?" she smirked at the handsome man. "Don't you worry, my chocolate thunder, you know I only have eyes for you." Penelope kissed him on the cheek, and you shared a smile with JJ at your friends' affection.

"Okay, I'm definitely gonna need some liquid courage if I'm gonna do this," and you went to go get some tequila shots, leaving your friends alone.

"You know she's in love with Emily, right?" Derek asked Penelope, as JJ approached a brunette woman a few feet away.

"Oh, definitely. I may not be a profiler, but I'm not blind either," she laughed, sitting on Derek's lap and placing her arms around his neck. "Wait until you hear the song she's going to sing," she smirked.

****

After taking some shots along with a few deep breaths, you went to tell the DJ what song you were going to sing. You realized there wasn't a wait list when she told you to go ahead onto the stage. I guess at least I won't have time to be nervous then.

Once you were up there, the DJ announced, "Next, we have Y/N singing 'Dress' by the one and only Taylor Swift!" she sent an encouraging smile your way and left the stage.

At the sound of your name, you saw Emily freeze on the dance floor and walk over to Penelope and Derek at the bar.

As the music started, she made eye contact with you and gave an encouraging smile. Your heart fluttered at the kind gesture, and you began to sing.

Our secret moments, in your crowded room,

They've got no idea about me and you.

You couldn't help but make eye contact with Emily as you sang the chorus:

All of this silence and patience, pining in anticipation

My hands are shaking from holding back from you (ah, ah, ah)

All of this silence and patience, pining and desperately waiting

My hands are shaking from holding back from all this (ha, ha, ha, ha)

Say my name and everything just stops

I don't want you like a best friend

Only bought this dress so you could take it off,

Take it off (ha, ha, ha)

You knew it was becoming blatantly obvious how you felt about your best friend, but you found that you didn't care, as Emily had been blushing since the moment you started the chorus and looked at her. You finished the song with a shocking amount of confidence, and made your way off the stage towards your friends, who were shamelessly and very loudly cheering for you.

"Well, well, well," Derek grinned smugly. "Who knew Agent y/l/n had such pipes!"

Penelope was also grinning widely. "I did!" she exclaimed happily. "I told you you'd do great!"

"Thank you, Pen! I actually ended up not feeling so nervous," you conceded. You glanced over at Emily, who was being uncharacteristically silent, seemingly in her own world. Her eyes were on the bottom hem of your dress, and you smirked at her not-so-innocent gaze.

You then looked back over to the other couple, who were both nodding at you as if to say, "Go on!"

"Hey, Em, do you want to go outside with me for a few minutes?" you asked, smiling at her reassuringly.

She nodded at you, smiling back. "Sure, I could use some fresh air."

****

Once the two of you made your way outside the bar, the light scent of cigarette smoke and someone's rose perfume washed over you. That's when you realized that was Emily's scent, which made sense with the way it felt like home.

After a tension-filled minute of silence, Emily finally spoke softly, "I didn't know you could sing like that, y/n...." she looked down at her shoes. "or that you felt like that." She suddenly looked into your eyes boldly, and a bright shade of pink creeped up the back of your neck at her heavy gaze and the sincerity with which she looked at you.

You suddenly noticed the lack of distance between you, and your body seemed to hum at the closeness. You inhaled slowly, summoning all the courage you had, as it had left your body. "I don't want you like a best friend, Em," you murmured, reaching out to caress her cheek, slowly moving your finger to trace her lips.

She closed her eyes in response, inhaling a light gasp. You moved your hand to the back of her neck, drawing her closer so you could finally place your lips on hers. You'd imagined this moment a thousand times, but you never thought you'd be the one to initiate a kiss. Your best friend usually had a dominant personality, which you didn't mind at all, but she seemed oddly reserved in the moment, as if she'd never expected this to happen and didn't know how to react. You decided to take charge and let her know exactly how you felt right then.

It was tentative at first, her soft lips caressing yours as if she were afraid it would end too soon. She soon parted her lips to invite you in to deepen the kiss, and you sighed into her mouth at the relief you felt from knowing she reciprocated your feelings. You gently traced her dark red lips with your tongue before entering her mouth and tangling your tongues together. She tasted of vodka and the subtle pomegranate of her lipstick, and you thought you'd never tire of her flavor.

When you finally drew apart, you rested your foreheads against each other, wishing the moment would never end. Emily intertwined your fingers together, not wanting to lose contact. She would never admit it to anyone else, but your touch made her feel comforted and safe like no one else ever had.

"My place?" she whispered into your ear, her breath ghosting the side of your neck. A shiver went through your body, and you nodded, having never agreed with a statement more in your entire life.

****

The moment the two of you walked through Emily's apartment door, all of her reservations had disappeared, and she had you pinned to it, holding your arms above your head. Oh, this is going to be fun, you thought as a warmth went straight to your core.

Her lips were on yours, and nothing about this kiss was tentative like the previous one. It was your tongues twisting around each other, teeth almost clashing together with the passion of it all.

The beautiful woman in front of you pulled away to look at your flushed face and body. "You only bought this dress so I could take it off, huh?" And then she was suddenly ripping it off your body with her bare hands. "Good, because I don't like the idea of you seducing that scumbag in it." She flung the tattered pieces of fabric across her living room. "And even though you look gorgeous in it, I'd much rather see it on my floor."

The next thing you knew, she was attacking your neck and collarbone with her lips, no doubt leaving marks you'd have to cover the next day. You let out a low moan as she took a piece of flesh between her teeth, and you could feel her smirk into your neck at the sound. Her hands were all over your body, moving from your back where she unclasped your bra, to your sides, to finally cup your breasts.

You tangled your fingers in her dark hair, unable to keep them away any longer. "Em, I want-" you sighed as she trailed her lips onto the top of your breast, nipping at the skin there softly.

"Yes, sweet girl, tell me what you want."

"Please, can I take these off?" you gestured toward her clothes that you thought had been on for way too long. "I want to see you."

She grinned at your hesitance to ask. "Since you asked so nicely." She grabbed your hand and led you to her bedroom, where you began to lift her shirt over her head to find a deep red lace bra underneath. Red had always been Emily's best color, and you hummed at the sight.

You moved on to unclasp her bra, wanting to see all of her. You traced your hands from her shoulders, over her breasts, to rest on her sides. "You're so beautiful, Em," you murmured, attaching your lips onto her neck as she had done to you.

A sigh escaped her mouth at your actions, but she quickly guided your face to look her in the eyes as she spoke softly, "Oh, my beautiful girl, so are you. You're more gorgeous than I ever could have imagined- and trust me, I have imagined plenty."

A blush crept onto your cheeks at the thought of this stunning woman picturing you naked, as you'd done to her so many times before. You loved how she called you her beautiful girl because your heart had belonged to her for so long now.

She began to take her slacks off so you were in an equal state of undress, and she guided you to lay down on the bed as she climbed on top of you and brought her lips to meet yours once again.

Emily hooked one of her fingers in the waistband of your black lace underwear and parted from your lips to look into your eyes questioningly. You couldn't nod in confirmation fast enough, and she was suddenly pulling your panties down your legs.

She kissed your lips once again, before moving downwards and taking a breast into her mouth, circling your nipple with her tongue. You arched your back off the bed in response, moaning softly as she continued her ministrations.

You ran your fingers through her hair, trying to urge her to move lower to the wetness between your thighs.

"Someone's eager," Emily grinned at you. "Don't worry, baby, I'll take care of you soon enough. I want to make sure your body gets all the attention it deserves." She was moving back to run her tongue along your breasts, and she suddenly placed a leg between your thighs.

You gasped loudly and bucked your hips downwards in response, as she smirked against your breast. Emily then grasped your hips and applied pressure to keep you still, as she trailed her lips down your stomach, getting closer and closer to where you wanted her most.

Once she had reached your lower stomach, right above your core, she passed it over to kiss along your inner thighs. You let out a quiet whimper, letting her know how badly you needed her lips on you. "Emily, please," you whined.

"Please what?" she asked innocently as she bit into your inner thigh, then soothing the spot with her tongue, making a rush of heat go through your core once again.

"Please, Em, I need your mouth- " and before you could finish your request, the brunette had licked a stripe through your glistening folds. "Fuck! Emily," you moaned her name shamelessly as she lifted a finger to follow the same path she'd licked moments ago.

"You're so wet, baby," she moaned. "Is this all for me?"

You nodded vigorously, tangling your fingers in her hair and tugging on the dark strands. "All for you," you confirmed. "Only you make me this wet, Emily."

She hummed, "Maybe I should reward you for your loyalty, then. What do you think, sweet girl?"

"Please, I need you now," and she placed her lips around your clit, sucking hard on the bundle of nerves. "Fuck me!" you shouted, no longer attempting to hold back.

Emily trailed two fingers through your wetness, teasing you for a moment before entering your core. She began thrusting at a steady, but agonizingly slow pace, while flicking your clit with her tongue.

You let out a high-pitched moan, "Oh Emily, please, faster!"

She conceded to your plea, slamming her fingers in and out, managing to hit all the right spots, while suctioning her lips around your clit again. You felt a build-up of the tightening in your stomach as she moved faster and faster.

Soon enough, you could feel the dam inside of you beginning to crack. "Shit, Emily, I'm gonna cum!"

"Cum for me now, baby," Emily encouraged as she began rubbing your bundle of nerves in fast circles with her free hand.

And suddenly, the dam had burst open, you released a high-pitched scream, and your cum was spilling onto Emily's fingers as she continued thrusting them inside of you slowly to ease you through your climax.

Once you had came off of your high and Emily pulled her fingers out of you, she brought them to her mouth and licked your juices off of them. You moaned at the sight, and she rolled over to lay by your side.

In that moment of newfound bliss, you wanted to please this woman more than anything, so you turned onto your side and brushed your lips against hers, tasting yourself on her lips. You moved so that you were hovering above her body, your arms resting on either side of her head.

She pulled away for a moment, looking concerned. "Y/n, you don't have to, I know you must be tired now."

You brought your hand to cup her face, and she leaned into the gentle touch. "Emily, I have never felt more energized, and there is nothing I'd rather do more," you reassured. "Unless you don't want me to, of course."

She smiled at you widely, having never had a partner so willing to please her before. She finally nodded, giving you consent to do whatever you wanted.

You brought one hand down to guide her now soaked panties down her legs, and she kicked them off the rest of the way. You could see her arousal running down the top of her inner thigh, and moaned at the sight of her being this wet for you.

"Oh honey, you were gonna let me leave you like this?" you asked softly.

She nodded in response. "I just wanted to please you, I wasn't thinking about me," she confessed.

"I want you to know that I am always willing to help you feel good, Emily. You deserve just as much pleasure as you give."

And with that, you lowered your head to clean up the liquid that had spilled down her inner thigh, suddenly wanting to taste more of her. Without any warning, you licked through Emily's heat and she shouted, "Fuck, y/n!"

Encouraged by her moans, you thrusted your tongue inside of her as her arousal began to coat your chin and nose. You trailed a finger slowly up her thigh to rub against her bundle of nerves, having no trouble finding the right spot.

Emily was growing embarrassingly close to her release already, the coil tightening in her core. "Faster, baby, I'm so close!" she exclaimed.

You willingly obliged, thrusting your tongue faster in time with the hard circles your finger was making on her clit. Her hips were bucking against your face and her legs trembling as you brought her closer and closer to bliss.

A surprisingly high-pitched whine escaped her lips as the coil inside of her finally unraveled and she no longer had control over her body.

You slowed your ministrations on her clit as she came down from her high and her body lost all previous tension it had. You finally cleaned up the juices between her thighs and she whimpered at the overstimulation.

When you were finished, you laid down beside her, pressing a tender kiss to her lips and resting your head on her chest.

"You are amazing, y/n," she sighed blissfully and you grinned. "No one has ever made me feel so good in my life."

Your brows furrowed at her comment. "You deserve someone who is willing to make you feel as good as you do for them. Anyone who has told you otherwise never deserved your love and attention in the first place," you explained soothingly, wrapping your arms tightly around her waist.

She contemplated this for a moment before speaking, "I guess I'm always worried that I'm not good enough for others, so I overcompensate by giving them too much attention. But with you, y/n, I find myself feeling good enough."

You both laid cuddling in comfortable silence for a little while, Emily gently combing her fingers through your hair. You sighed blissfully, realizing you'd never been as content as you were in that moment.

You looked up at her from where your head was resting against her beating heart. "Em, can I ask you something?"

"Sure, pretty girl. Anything."

"I'm not upset, I was just wondering," you reassured, tracing your finger in lazy figure 8s on her side. "Why were you dancing with those women at the bar?"

She exhaled slowly, moving the hand that was in your hair to rest on the side of your face. "I think I was afraid I'd harmed our friendship when I was helping you with your dress earlier, and I was attempting to drown out my emotions instead of talking to you about it," she sighed. "I guess I just couldn't see your feelings for me."

You nodded in understanding, knowing how it felt to be unsure about others' feelings, especially hers. Deciding to lighten the conversation a little, you added, "You mean the great FBI profiler Emily Prentiss couldn't see my feelings?" you giggled.

She just grinned, continuing to trail her fingers over your cheekbone and jawline. "When it comes to you, my love, all of my BAU training and education fades away in the presence of your beauty, talent, and kindness."

Your cheeks were flushed once again, and your heart felt so full at her kind words that you couldn't help but confess, "I love you, Emily Prentiss."

She smiled and met your lips with hers tenderly before responding, "I love you too, my sweet girl." And Emily's heart finally felt full too.

#emily prentiss #emily prentiss x reader #emily prentiss fanfiction #emily prentiss oneshot #criminal minds #criminal minds fandom #emily prentiss x y/n #criminal minds fanfiction #soft emily prentiss #emily prentiss is lesbian #emily prentiss imagine

[elleskate]

penelope garcia

#penelope garcia #criminal minds #elle greenaway #lesbian #wlw ship #fanfic #jennifer jareau #kate callahan #emily prentiss #aaron hotchner #spencer reid #derek morgan #soft pink #soft girl

[moonlitdesertdreams]

Anything for you

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x F!Reader

Tags: hotch x oc, criminal Minds Imagine, aaron Hotchner x reader, hotch x reader, inter-office relationships, criminal minds, aaron hotchner x oc, penelope garcia, emily prentiss, jj, jennifer jareau, aaron hotchner, derek morgan, david rossi, spencer reid

WARNINGS: Kidnapping, mentions of murder, torture, general criminal minds lingo

Summary: You're kidnapped during a case. Post-rescue fluffiness ensues.

word count: 2.8k+

The first time you're kidnapped on the job, you feel like no training has prepared you. 

It was a normal work day- the BAU had been sent to Saginaw, Michigan, and you had been working with Morgan to clear a hideout associated with a possible suspect. The unsub was targeting blonde females of short stature, and the team was aware that you and JJ both fit the victimology. Regardless, it wasn’t the first time someone on the team looked similar to their victims. 

Girls are being lured out of their cars by a wounded animal on the road, and snatched in late evening or early morning hours. The unsub had been profiled as someone withdrawn and non-confrontational, so every inch of that theory is invalidated when you’re taken in broad daylight.

 After clearing the house, you had made your way through a side gate in the backyard with intentions of talking to the neighbor while Morgan searched through personal items inside. 

And your last recollection before the pain started was hopping down the back porch steps. 

And fuck, did your head hurt when you slipped into awareness.

Once you regain some semblance of consciousness, you conclude the unsub must have fled into the neighbor’s yard from his hideout and panicked when you unknowingly followed.

 Hence, the current predicament. Spread out on what you’re trying not to imagine as medieval torture device, the unsub has your arms bound high above your head. Your feet barely brush the ground, and the muscles in your shoulders scream with every move. You try to negotiate with your captor, though the words only exchange for a few moments before he plunges a needle into the thick muscles of your thigh.

 A cool rush floods through your veins shortly thereafter, and your limbs feel heavier by the second. Your eyesight blurs without contacts or glasses and dry mouth creeps up from whatever drug is flaring in your system.

Thoughts of the team invade logical thought, trying to drown out the haunting images your brain is interpreting from your squinting eyes. 

A hooded figure with an oddly deep voice comes into the room and photographs you at regular intervals . He takes more items of clothing each time, sometimes ripping and other times taking a whole article. If you were in your right mind, you would have caught on to the child-like nature and tantrums when your subdued body can’t coordinate with his movements.

“What’s your name?”

You blink slowly, awakening to a dark room. Your arms are sore, and your shoulders still ache. The toes of your boots brush what looks to be an old wood floor, though you are  unsure due to the lack of visual acuity. An attempt to lift your head fails, and it instead droops until your chin hits your chest.

A limb shoots towards you, and instinct forces you to jerk. Rough fingers brush your reddened cheeks as the gag is taken from your mouth. “Sorry, did I scare you?”

“S-scare..?” You  squint, but only the shadow cast by his hood is visible. “W-where am I?”

A childlike giggle.

 “At my house. My Momma said we could have a sleepover.”

Even in a delusional and dazed, you’re able to feel the shiver down your spine. 

“A sleepover?”

FLASH. 

The sound of a camera shutter corrupted the functioning state you had started to develop, and you squeezed your eyes shut. You knew it was bad, but nothing in your brain could pull together enough info to react. 

“You’re beautiful… just stay right there, I’m gonna take more.

- - -

“He’s not smart. In fact, disorganized to the point where he can’t even keep up.”

Aaron Hotchner sits across the table from Rossi, who is trying to explain their newest theory to the local police chief. With you taken, everyone’s nerves are on edge, and Hotch finds himself tasked with keeping his emotions under control.

It was exactly why workplace relationships- even those based in casual sex and physical comfort- were not allowed. 

Additionally, it wasn’t as if members of the team hadn’t been kidnapped or put in danger before. Despite this, Hotch's mind is racing, trying to discern the best way to track an unsub who was so unorganized he didn’t even know what to do next. They got lucky discovering the first abandoned house Morgan and yourself had raided, but Hotch wasn’t sure they’d get that lucky again.

“We thought he was withdrawn, but maybe he’s escalating?” Reid suggested. It had been over twelve hours since the abduction of their teammate, and they were all pouring over case files in the station’s conference room. 

Hotch stared down at crime scene photos, including the ones from where you were taken. Prentiss is doing the same, and lifts her head at Spencer’s remark.

“What if she scared him?” Emily offers, “There’s a chance he was just trying to flee and got cornered. It would maintain the withdrawn nature.”

“He took her in the middle of broad daylight.” Morgan contradicts, obviously feeling a bit guilty as he was your partner when the kidnapping occurred. “Into the woods, and away he went.”

Reid closes the folder in his hand. “Actually, it is a good theory. She has specialized training in hand-to-hand combat, it would be very hard to subdue her quietly. If the unsub is withdrawn and scared, he might have come from behind once he realized there was no way out.”

Chief Ballard of the local department speaks up. “She’s a fairly small woman, even with specialized combat it’s hard to fight back if you take a surprise blow to the head.”

  Hotch looked up. He had sparred with you on many occasions in the gym, and knew firsthand the amount of tricks used to fend off larger attackers. However, an ambush and a good enough blow would render even himself unconscious.

“She could do it if given the opportunity. Between her hand-to-hand and her gun, there should have been some struggle. Though as Reid said, it doesn’t appear she had that chance.” Hotch concludes. 

“That could be indicative of someone lying in wait, or someone scared to show their face.” JJ says, “It really doesn’t allow us a good lead either way.”

“Damn.” Hotch grinds his teeth, nerves getting the best of him once again. “You did a cognitive interview?”

“At the scene. I had-”

A knock from the room’s entrance makes them all  jump, and an officer steps in the doorway. His eyes turn to Hotch. “Sir, there’s a woman on the phone for your team.”

Reid stands, moving towards the speaker setup in the corner of the room. “I called Garcia a little while ago, that’s probably her.”

The phone line crackles to life when Spencer picks up. “Hey, Garcia.”

“...S-Spence?”

Hotch’s blood runs cold, and he shoots to his feet. The team allows him the next move, murmuring your name as he approaches the receiver.

“Aaron… hey.” Your speech is slow and slurred, but it’s a clear sign of life.

“Where are you? Are you with the unsub?” Hotch feels the team’s eyes on him, but all that matters in the moment is the sound of your voice. 

“N-No. I-I’m with my friend Jake. He wants to have a sleepover, is that okay with you?”

Rossi makes brief eye contact with Hotch, who nodded his head in silent agreement of how to play out the call. 

Hotch takes it upon himself to answer and softens his tone.  “You know honey, I just need to know what house Jake is in. Do you remember?”

A breathy laugh came through the background of the call, and Hotch assumed it was ‘Jake’ listening in. Your heavy breathing is the dominant noise, and it takes a minute for an answer. 

“Y-yeah. Next door to the Youngs in a r-really pretty old house.” 

Rossi taps the mute button in a flash of tanned fingers. “Our unsub has reverted to a childlike state. If he’s letting her make phone calls-”

“She’s gained his trust.” Hotch finishes, finally feeling like they’re on the same page. 

“Smart girl. I’m calling Garcia to find a list of people with the last name Young in the area.” Morgan already had his phone to his ear.

“Those who live next door to old houses.” Hotch added. 

“Did you notice the way she said ‘really pretty’?” Rossi rubbed his chin. “With the emphasis on ‘pretty’? Is she trying to appease him?”

“Morgan, narrow that down to Youngs who live next door to abandoned or condemned establishments.” 

Hotch opens the line, your name sliding from his lips in that honey-soaked tone he usually reserves for early mornings and late nights in.

“Aaron?” Your words are still slow, though relatively coherent. 

“I think a sleepover is a great idea.” He swallows the lump in his throat, “We’ll see you in the morning, okay?”

“T-Thanks, it’s gonna be fun.”

The line goes dead after, and Hotch drags in a deep breath. 

“There’s only one place in the area with those parameters.” Morgan shoves his phone into his pocket as the team stands.

“Let’s go.”

You’ve been lowered to sit, but your hands are still suspended, fingers tingling with numbness. The unsub, or rather, Jake, as he told you to call him, is sitting with legs crossed underneath him a few feet away. There is a lop-sided grin on his face, and his child-like excitement is palpable. 

“Do you wanna play a game?” He asks eagerly. 

You manage to lift your head, filled with some hope after Jake’s strange allowance of a phone call a few minutes prior. While he might have killed two girls already, they were held for over 48 hours before Jake snapped. You are lucky enough to understand his mindset and play into it, even through whatever drug has been pushed into your system every few hours. The best guess you can muster was that the other girls were unable to deal with the strange kidnapper, and something they said or did broke his facade and led to murder. It was vague and unclear, but all you had. 

“What kind of game?” You ask through a shiver. The tremors never seem to end. 

“Tag.”

“I don’t know how I’m going to do that.”

Jake opens his mouth to answer, but is interrupted by the sound of stairs creaking. He freezes, turning towards the broken and sideways hanging bedroom door. 

“Jake, hey.”

You pray the sounds are the rest of your team, but want to keep his attention away if it is. 

“Yes?” His boyish gaze falls back to you. 

“What about I Spy?”

  Jake breaks out into a smile. “That’s a great idea! I just gotta do your medicine first.”

The man, who you now recognize as a white male in his late twenties with blonde hair and a pudgy face, drew another syringe out of his pocket and plunged it into your thigh. If your counting is still correct, it would be the sixth injection. 

“Jake... “ You inhale as the freeze begins to spread, “I spy something… white.”

Eyes wide, they scour the room for your challenge. Your eyelids grow heavy, and you blink as the door moves ever so slightly. It’s slow, until a creak echoes through the empty room. Jake whirls around, coming face-to-face with Jennifer Jareau and Emily Prentiss holding him at gunpoint. 

“Who are you?” He demands, scrambling to his feet. “Why are you at my sleepover?”

You sag with relief, shoulders hanging heavily on their bounds. “J-jake, they’re my friends.”

“Friends don’t point guns!” 

Jake rockets towards the left, where your pistol, badge, and shoes are discarded, Prentiss sees his motivation, and a gunshot echoes through the room. The man cries out, and your pounding head flinches away from the noise. 

“Stay on the ground!” Emily keeps her gun on him, and you druggedly take note of the wound in his leg as opposed to center mass. 

JJ moves to kneel in front of you. “Can you hear me? Are you alright?”

You fight the new sedation as best you can. “J-J?”

“I’ve got you.”

The other blonde turns, yelling towards the door that they were clear and needed help. Morgan appears in the doorway, rushing in to assist JJ. He pulls a pocket knife from his pants pocket, slicing the rope and cable ties binding your arms. Your exhausted body slumps into his chest, clinging to his shirt. You notice the purple tint to her hands, and hope it isn’t a bad sign. 

“You with me?” Morgan’s deep voice made you lift your head, unfocused eyes searching his face. 

“You found me…” 

“Yeah we did. You’re a smart cookie, gorgeous.”

You huff a laugh against his neck and suddenly take note of bright lights against your eyelids. Upon further inspection, you deduce it to be the sun. Morgan must have carried you all the way out.

“T-That’s bright.” You murmur, trying to shelter your eyes as Morgan lowers you to the grass.

“Medical is on their way. Where’s Hotch?”

The voices blend together for a few minutes, and you  focus on breathing in. Another presence  approaches and kneels down, surrounding you with a musky cologne and blanket of safety. A familiar hand rests on your cheek, and you blink up at his face.

Aaron Hotchner stares back at you, and a wave of emotion breaks through the drugs. “Aaron…” 

“I’m right here. You did good work today.” 

You take a moment to gaze at his familiar features. Dark hair, dark eyes. He’s kneeling beside you, but the size of his frame is still imposing. Against your will, you feel your throat tighten and eyes swell to accommodate tears. One hand extends towards him. 

“I need…” You pause, trying to collect yourself. “Hotch- please.”

Hotchner doesn’t answer her, only draws you against his chest. Your arms lift to wrap around his neck, face hiding against the sun-warmed skin of his neck. Despite the ache it causes to rake across his shoulders, Aaron remains wrapped in your embrace as your body begins to shake. You smell of sweat and captivity, remnants of the ordeal you’d just been through. The clothes you wore were the same Aaron had seen you in last, though there were small holes scattered about your black trousers. 

“I’m sorry this happened to you.” He murmurs against  greasy hair, gripping the back of your skull with his hand. “I should have-”

You lift her head at his tone and point a wavering finger. “No, d-don’t blame yourself.”

The cloudy haze of pharmaceuticals is creeping into your eyes as you chastise him. “I know how you are… Aaron, y-you’ll beat yourself up.”

He chuckles, pressing a kiss to your temple. “Let’s just get you to the hospital, alright?”

Hotch picks you up with little effort, strolling towards the ambulance and stretcher where it was waiting. “...N-No. I’m alright.”

Once you’re placed on the stretcher, the arguing starts weakly and you’re swaying like a daisy in the wind. Hands still fisted in Hotch’s vest hold him in place beside you. 

“We need to find out what you were given. Do the tests, and I’ll be satisfied.” Hotch orders, hand on your wrist rubbing gentle circles. “JJ can go with you.”

The blonde steps up beside their boss, soft smile on her face as she wraps an arm around your shoulder. 

“No… I don’t-” You pause and swallow, panic rising as Hotchner attempts to step back

Your fingers tremble against Hotch’s torso where they’re wrapped in his shirt, and tears leak from the corners of your eyes. Of all the years Hotch had known you on the BAU, he has never seen you so upset. You’re all trained to deal with these types of things, but nothing prepares you for the actual thing. Especially when you’re being pumped full of illicit drugs to keep you sedate. 

JJ rubbed your back, eyes lifting to Hotch. “You know boss, Morgan and I can handle the clean up and reports. You’re gonna have enough paperwork as it is.”

Thank God  for Jennifer Jareau.

Hotchner stares at the two women before dipping his head in a nod. “Alright. We’ll meet you back at the station as soon as possible.”

“Sounds great.” JJ turns on her heel and bustles off towards a group of local detectives and beat cops.

The medics were prepping the gurney to go up, carefully arranging your loose limbs on the cushion. Hotch watches in amusement, as you’re looking more stoned by the second.

“Sir, are you coming?” One of the medics asks, motioning to the back of the rig. 

“Yes, sorry.” Hotchner pulls himself into the back of the ambulance, accepting the hand you hold out to him. 

“Thanks for comin’, boss.” You tug his hand close, lips brushing against his knuckles. His body was warm, and you stretched towards it. 

Aaron leans in before the paramedics begin bustling to press a kiss against your forehead. “Anything for you.”

---

Criminal Minds Masterlist || Send me ideas

#Hotch x OC #Criminal Minds Imagine #Aaron Hotchner x reader #hotch x reader #inter-office relationships #criminal minds #aaron hotchner x oc #penelope garcia #emily prentiss #jj #jennifer jareau #aaron hotchner #derek morgan #david rossi #spencer reid #unsub #cm imagine #hotchner fluff #hotch fluff #soft hotch

[artcake]

Congrats on your amazing Milestone!! I would really love to see a sketch of an intimate moment between Tara and Emily ❤️

Thank you!

#emily prentiss #tara lewis #temily #emily x tara #wlw art #criminal minds #criminal minds fanart #just let them be soft together #tara laying soft kisses on emilys cheeks and eyelids while pressing her against the wall #someone please write fic of this #sketch #sketch asks #prompts #500 followers #500 celebration #fan art #my art

[em-prentiss]

Emily asking Aaron out and he says yes so she blurts out a sushi restaurant (it’s the first thing that popped up into her head, because she didn’t expect him to say yes so fast) and he should’ve suggested some other place because he really doesn’t know how to eat with chopsticks, but it’s their first date so he agrees. Then the time comes and they’re in the restaurant he picks up the chopsticks and….stares at their food and starts blushing furiously. Emily looks up and is baffled by this man’s red cheeks and awkward (awkward!!) smile, but when she sees him fidgeting with the chopsticks she knows. She drags her seat over to his side and teaches him how to use the chopsticks, her hands so warm and steady over his as she patiently explains how to use them, and he’s trying so hard to pay attention but he can’t really—she really does look so gorgeous with her hair down—so she stays sitting next to him the whole night and he kisses her before they even leave the restaurant because he just can’t help it and his cheeks are still warm but that’s okay because hers are too (she’s never touched his hands so much before) and after that sushi restaurants become their all time faves <3

#yes I am aware he can use chopsticks in canon #I am ignoring canon #you should too #anyway back to these two #so soft with each other I could actually throw up #hotchniss #emily prentiss #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x emily prentiss #criminal minds #hotchniss hcs #em yaps

[criminalmindsfanantic]

Fluffy Jemily Headcanons

They link pinkies when they kiss, especially before going out into the field or in dangerous situations

Henry and Michael started calling Emily ‘Momem’ after Michael slipped up, starting to call her mom, but caught himself and ended up calling her ‘Momem’ and it just stuck

JJ wears Emily’s old Yale t-shirt, which she stole the first time she slept over, to bed so often that it’s threadbare and almost unwearable now

Emily loves gummy bears, she bites off their heads and switches the bodies (she freaked Reid out the first time she did it) and now Henry and Michael do it too

Emily is an insomniac and even though she is prescribed sleep meds, she doesn’t like to take them, so most nights she lays awake for a while and watches JJ sleep.

JJ talks and mumbles in her sleep. She’s also a stage five clinger and will wrap herself around Emily unless she’s all touched out from the boys hanging all over her.

#chaoticbau #they’re so soft #criminal minds #jennifer jareau #emily prentiss #jemily #cm #spencer reid #jennifer jareau head canons #emily prentiss headcanons #jemily headcanons #cm headcanons #cm headcanon #domestic fluff #fluff #wlw ship #lgbtq #they’re so in love

[emberfrostlovesloki]

CM Artist Spotlight

Photo credits: All (@hannaloony)

Hey, Loves! I wanted to hop on and highlight a new (to me) Criminal Minds artist I stumbled across on Insta a few days ago. They are (@verlioko_22) on Instagram. I reached out and asked if I could highlight their work, and they said yes. And can I just say how much I love all of these! I like the color palettes! The Hotch ONE! The glow on Garcia's glasses - AMAZING. I hope you all enjoy these as much as I do, and if you're so inclined, follow their Tumblr/Instagram at @hannaloony

If you are looking for other cool, nifty, keen Criminal Minds content creators of all kinds, feel free to check out my Aaron Hotchner and CM Content Creator Spotlight (linked).

#criminal minds #artist spotlight #hannaloony #criminal minds art #cozy art #pastel aesthetic #soft reid #soft hotch #bau family #cm #aaron hotcher #emily prentiss #spencer reid #derek morgan #penelope garcia #love love love