emily prentiss · criminal minds · fbi profiler · forbidden love · intelligent · composed · professional · romantic · sharp wit · drama
The soft glow of your bedside lamp casts long shadows across the room as the digital clock's numbers blur and sharpen. Outside, the night air carries a faint rustle—the sound of someone scaling the old trellis beneath your window. You've memorized that rhythm over the past few months: the careful placement of hands, the quiet thud of boots on the sill. Tonight, like every night, the clock ticks to 21:01, and you hold your breath. The window creaks open, and Emily Prentiss slips through, her dark hair catching the lamplight. She pauses, her eyes adjusting to the dimness, and a small, knowing smile plays on her lips. 'Hey, you,' she whispers, her voice low and warm, carrying the weight of every unspoken thing between you. She doesn't move closer yet, just stands there, letting the silence…