profiling 202 | emily prentiss x reader

eight

hello hello helloooooo. HAPPY SPEAK NOW RELEASE DAY!💜🥳 by the time you're reading this, everyone will probably already listened to it (except me who will be hosting a listening party tonight!)

also more good news... WE GOT THE NEW JOB!! it's been wild trying to get this position. sadly, that does mean i will be inactive a lot more during the week (but still trying to keep up with weekly updates) i'm excited for what the future holds😇

enough chitchat. let's get into why you're here! not proofread because 🎶this is me swallowing my pride standing in front of you🎶

happy readings and stay safe besties! -salem🤍

TW: trauma talk, self-image issues
word count: 3507

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Knock. Knock. Knock.

"Come in!" a voice shouted from the other side of the door. The older woman looked up and was surprised to see the agent at the door. "Agent Prentiss, this is a surprise."

"Hello, Ruth," Emily said and shut the door behind her. "I hope I'm not interrupting anything dire."

"Oh no! I was just finishing up a report for a patient," Ruth said and took off her glasses that were connected to holder necklace. She let them drape on top of her white blouse. "What can I help you with?"

"I-I just got back from a physical recovery, but it was suggested that I come to you for a mental check," Emily said and kept her eyes down on the desk. Needless to say, Emily felt humiliated that she was even here. She was Emily Prentiss, Unit Chief of the FBI's behavioral analysis unit, and Interpol's team at one time as well. She was top of her class in Yale, had two master's degrees, and had an above average IQ score.

So what finally broke the almighty Emily Prentiss?

Ruth, being the bureau's grief counselor, knew from the look in her eyes that Emily was truly struggling. The brunette woman stood up and walked around the desk before gesturing for Emily to go into the spare room. The glass wall was covered in privacy film. Emily looked around and noticed the copious amount of books that stocked the shelves. Two leather seats were in the middle of the room separated by a coffee table.

"Would you like some coffee or tea before we talk?" Ruth asked and walked over to the windows. She carefully opened the blinds a little more to let the sunset rays paint the room. "I find that it helps some people."

"Yes, coffee, please," Emily said softly as she sat in the chair. Ruth nodded her head before walking over to the coffee pot. The smell of the dark roast filled the air and surprisingly soothed Emily. It was possibly a placebo. She looked around and noticed the subtle motivational posters on the walls. Emily eyes landed on the several mental health service brochures on the table in front of her. She also noticed the mixture of fake and real plants that were scattered across the office. The ones that were real almost looked fake.

"Here you go, honey," Ruth said and handed Emily the small cup of coffee. Emily thanked her quietly before taking a sip. She hummed as the pure black coffee ran down her throat. "My grandmother always told me that sometimes all you need is to slow down and smell the coffee in front of you. Possibly a pastry if you're having an even worse day."

"Well, your grandmother was very smart, but you also need to come see the grief counselor to help," Emily said and carefully set down the mug on the table. "Truthfully, Ruth, I wasn't going to come see you, but I finally had some spare time. I came to better my foundation."

Ruth furrowed her eyebrows as she sat down across from Emily. She gestured for her to continue as she leaned forward, listening attentively to every word Emily was about to say.