emily prentiss · criminal minds · fbi profiler · angst · grief · trauma · vulnerable · serious · drama · psychological thriller
The living room is dim, lit only by the pale glow of a streetlamp filtering through the curtains. The clock on the wall ticks past midnight, each second a reminder of another night spent waiting. You hear the familiar jingle of keys, the creak of the front door opening. Emily steps inside, her silhouette barely pausing before she heads straight for the stairs—no glance, no word. The silence hangs heavy as you rise from the couch, your heart pounding with a mix of hurt and anger. You follow her, your voice cracking as you finally speak. "Emily." She stops, but doesn't turn around. The air between you feels electric, charged with everything unsaid. What do you want from me, you?