Please Another Story With Kate Stewart! Perhaps, If Youre Interested, Something Like A Reunion Story?

Please another story with Kate Stewart! Perhaps, if you’re interested, something like a reunion story? They meet again after Kate’s been away for a while?

Katherine

Pairing: Kate Lethbridge-Stewart x fem!Reader

Word Count: 1450

Warnings: mentions of injuries, a bit of angst

Summary: Kate comes home after a worktrip after not having texted you for two days

A/n: Hope you like it anon, made it a bit more angsty. Would love a repost, like or comment. <3 Can also be read as a gn!Reader ♡

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Dating Kate wasn't always easy. She worked long hours, often had to go on trips and wouldn't come back for multiple days or even longer. And she wasn't allowed to tell you what she even worked as. All you knew was that she worked for a government organisation protecting the planet from extraterrestrial forces. Great explanation, thank you very much. As if that wouldn't make approximately three million questions pop up in your brain.

But you loved her, and you made it work. Sometimes it was hard work, but it worked nonetheless. It was particularly hard work in moments like these. She'd been gone for eight days, off to some place off the world you weren't allowed to know too much about.

You missed her rotten. But mostly you were worried. You always were, but now more than ever. Usually she texted you every morning and every night. Even if she didn't have time for anything else, that was a given. But she hadn't texted you since yesterday morning. No text last night. No text this morning. No text now, and it was already dark outside.

So obviously you were worried sick and couldn't sleep. You tossed and turned, for what felt like hours. The familiar feeling of dread and anxiety settling deep inside of you. Your mind wandered and conjured up the worst scenarios possible. That went on until you heard a car pull up in front of the house and a few moments later a key unlocking the front door. It was unmistakably Kate's key, and the way she tried to be silent but immediately went into the kitchen for a tea gave her away as well. Trying to be silent was considerate, very Kate. But did she really think you could sleep right now? In seconds, you jumped out of the bed and ran down the stairs, barefoot and simply in a top and shorts. You didn't even bother giving Kate a warning of any kind, you practically flew into the kitchen and right into her arms. She only had a second to register what was happening and open her arms for you.

You immediately buried your face in the crook of her neck and took in her scent, that was so uniquely Kate. A wonderful mix of her perfume and shampoo filling your senses. Your arms around her neck clung onto her and her hand gently rubbed your back. Never in your life did you ever want to let go again.

"Did I wake you, my love?" She asked you, and the question was so ridiculous that it actually made you laugh a little through the silent tears that had formed in your eyes. You pulled back a bit and looked at her, a few tears slowly running down your cheeks.

"Do you really think I could sleep with how worried I was?" You asked her and her expression formed into a mix of guilt and confusion. When will she understand that you always worry about her when she goes off to these work trips? She always comes back injured in some way. It was the whole reason why you always made her text you, to know she was safe and alive.

You took a step back and looked her up and down, checking for visible injuries. You didn't see any, but she was fully clothed. Looking back up at her, you put on a stern, no nonsense look.

"Where are you hurt?" You asked, worried and eyes still slightly filled with tears. She shook her head, and you immediately knew she'd play tough.

"I'm fine, darling. Nothing happened." She said and tried to make her voice sound reassuring and calm. But she sounded exhausted instead. You could see right through her. She was lying. You crossed your arms in front of your chest and shook your head.

"Don't lie to me. Where are you hurt?" You repeated the question again. And you would until she'd answer you. "You didn't text me for nearly two days, something happened." You said and felt yourself choke up a bit, remembering how worried you'd been. Kate's gaze softened a bit at that, and you could see the decision she'd made in her eyes. She'd tell you where she was hurt. She was too exhausted for drama and arguing. She craved care and love.

She took off her blazer and then unbuttoned her blouse, taking it off and throwing it over the back of the chair. Her left side and rips where black and blue and a fairly big bandage was wrapped neatly around her right underarm. The sight made you gasp, and you immediately felt awful for the way you jumped into her arms. That must have hurt like hell.

"Kate, honey..." You whispered, eyes big and glossy, full of concern. "I want you to tell me things like this." You added quietly, eyes glued to the bruising on her rips.

"It's nothing, really it's not-" She started, no doubt trying to keep you from worrying. But it was too late for that. Right now you just wanted to take care of her.

"Katherine." You said in a tone of voice that cut her right off. She looked at you a bit surprised. No one called her Katherine, not these days at least. But it was effective, Kate closed her mouth and just nodded.

"Alright. I'll make you the tea you were no doubt making when I jumped on you. And you go upstairs and change into something comfy, but keep the top off. I'll put some lotion on those bruises." You explained to her, already moving around the kitchen to boil water and get her a cup. In the corner of your eye, you could see Kate's shoulders relax a bit. She grabbed her blazer and blouse and walked out of the kitchen. While you waited for the water to boil you could hear Kate walk around upstairs and when it stopped you knew she'd settled into bed to wait.

When the tea is done you go up to join Kate. You set the tea down in the little night stand next to your bed and placed a soft kiss on Kate's head. She was half sitting half lying down, leaned against the headboard. You grabbed some lotion from the bathroom.

"Any injuries at the legs?" You asked gently, standing next to the bed. Kate looked truly exhausted. She took a sip of tea before answering, but already shook her head.

"No, I showed you everything." You gave her a smile before climbing onto the bed and settling in her legs. Kate's hands immediately found a cosy home on your naked thighs. You just wanted to make a comment about it and tell her 'no funny business' when you see that she closed her eyes and immediately relaxed. It always astounded you how much of a relaxing effect you had on her, so much that just her hands on your skin calmed her down. You simply smiled to yourself and very gently started to spread the lotion on her rips. You could see that it hurt in the way she pressed her eyes close a bit firmer and lightly bit on her lower lip. But you tried to be as gentle as possible. When you're done you place the lotion on the night stand as well and gently lean in to kiss Kate on the lips. She hadn't seen it coming, her eyes still closed, but she kissed you back nonetheless. It's a short, soft kiss. Tender and full of love, and it nearly makes you choke up again.

Carefully you climb off her and settle down next to her, nuzzling into her non-injured side. Her arm easily wrapped around you and pulled you a bit closer, your head rested in her bare chest. The lotion had to dry before she could put her shirt back on.

"You scared me." You whisper quietly after some time of just cuddling in silence. "Please text me next time. Or make that scientist text me. Osgood? Something to know you're not dead." It hung heavy between the two of you and made you swallow hard. It was a possibility, you both knew that. Kate better than you, but even with how little you knew of her job you knew enough for that possibility to settle in your mind more often than you liked.

"I promise. I'm sorry I worried you." She answered, her soft voice ringing through the room and soothing your soul and heart. You simply nodded and nuzzled even closer, if that's even possible.

"I missed you."

"I missed you too."

"I love you."

"I love you more."

"Not possible."

Here's a dialogue prompt for Emily please! Try this out pls. Love you Kam sm sm. "So why are you here?" "To make a fool of myself." ok ty lysm

even though i watched u type this, the wording makes me giggle every time i look at it.

emily prentiss x tech analyst!reader <3

warnings: fem!reader, cannon typical violence, very brief allusions to sexual assault (nothing happens!), angst and fluff! mutual pining.

word count: 5.4k

Emily is the loveliest thing you've ever seen and you can't imagine how she could ever possibly like you back. She enjoys the game, though, and teasing you is her favorite hobby.

-

It’s a sunny day. Warmth trickles down with the scattered light through the leaves. Patterns trace your arms, throwing your skin into a collage of different shapes and shades. Leaning back on your elbows, you watch people mill about the park. You look back down at your arm after a few more minutes, this time focused on the small watch resting there. With a sigh, you stand up and dust off your pants before picking up the small blanket you laid out and tucking it into your bag. 

You walk back to work, enjoying the sounds of the people around you. You lingered too long at the park during your break and are hoping that nobody notices your slightly late return. Maybe the team will be in a meeting, gruesome pictures you never quite learned to stomach plastered on the board, entirely oblivious to your tardiness. 

Unlikely, but a welcome thought soothing your anxiety as you push the door open and scan your badge at the security desk. 

“Welcome back,” the security guard says, smiling at you over his paperback. He’s an old greying man and you vaguely recognize him. You think he’s new and send him a warm smile in return. 

“Thanks,” you glance at his name badge, “Martin!”

You walk past him and step into the elevator. “Wait!” A voice calls and you reach forward to hit the hold button instinctively before you register the voice as Emily’s. 

She jogs into the elevator with you, smiling gratefully. “Thanks, I’m already running a little behind.” She lifts a container and shakes it a little. The label is from the Italian bistro across the street, about a ten-minute walk away and always nearly triple that in wait time. 

“Brave of you to go there during your lunch,” you joke, returning her smile and pressing the button for your floor. 

You hope she can’t see how your hands shake as you reach forward.

“I know, I just love their Pasta Brado. Have you tried it?”

“Can’t say I have. I’m boring, I usually go for the parm.”

“You’re not boring,” she says so earnestly that you can’t help but blush. You cough as an excuse to raise your hand to your face and hopefully hide it some. “You do have to try it, though. Here,” she offers you the plastic box. 

“Oh, I couldn’t. And I already ate.” You ignore the way your chest hurts a little at how enthusiastic she is. The worst part? She doesn’t even know how endearing her simple kindness, her casual enthusiasm, is to you. 

“Tomorrow, then. We can go together.” The elevator doors open as she says it and she steps out with an affirmative nod to solidify it. “Don’t try to bail out on me either, I know where to find you.”

“Yeah, I'm okay,” you say, feeling lame as you step out behind her. “I would love to.” She’s too far to hear you, though, already heading to Spencer’s desk and jumping right into his conversation with Morgan. 

Someone says your last name and you turn on your heel to see Hotch and cringe slightly. “I was trying to find you.” It’s a kinder way of him reminding you that you’re nearly ten minutes late back from your lunch. 

“Sorry, sir.”

“It’s fine. Do you have the reports finished from last week's trip to Huston?”

“Yes, sir, they’re at my desk. One moment.”

-

You and Emily don’t go to the bistro the next day because she and the team are sent to a small town in Kansas that night. 

“I’ll owe you lunch,” she says, hand on the back of your desk chair and brushing your shoulder as the team rushes to the jet. 

“Don’t worry about it!” You reassure her.

“I’m taking you to lunch,” she calls over her shoulder, pretend-glaring, “you will try that Brado!”

And then she’s gone, leaving you giddy and breathless. 

You know she’s just being friendly – she treats Spencer, Morgan, and JJ all the same as you – but her efforts to spend one-on-one time with you outside of work still have you feeling like a schoolgirl passed a note from her crush in class. 

You try to remind your heart to stop singing because Emily probably isn’t even gay and definitely isn’t interested. Instead, Garcia scares the shit out of you when she interrupts your inner monologue. 

“Lunch with Emily? Things are getting serious in your work marriage.” You hadn’t seen her walk into the room and jump at her voice, hand jumping to your mouth to suppress a yelp. “Sorry! Sorry!”

“It’s okay, didn’t see you.”

“Your loss, I look fantastic today.”

“As always,” you smile up at her, nose wrinkling and genuine fondness filling your senses. 

“Careful, wouldn’t want a workplace affair,” she jokes, leaning against your desk and picking up the stress ball you keep handy. 

“Stop,” you moan in good nature. “Nobody else calls us work wives.”

“That’s just because they don’t have my brilliance and excellent observational skills.”

“Nor do they have the same privy to my more personal thoughts,” you say, glancing up at her before returning to your paperwork. With the team leaving so quickly to tend to a missing child's case, you’re not getting home in time to cook dinner but are hoping to leave early enough to grab food instead of resorting to your freezer stash. 

“I would hope not. You know I can’t be replaced, baby.”

“Does Morgan know you talk to all your work besties like this?”

“I most certainly do not. You’re a regular bestie, not a work bestie.” A wink and then her expression sobers. “I do have an actual reason for visiting your humble cubical, though.”

“Hm?”

“I’m going to need extra hands for this case. It’s time-sensitive, as usual, and seems like it will be particularly tricky.”

“Yes ma’am,” you say, dropping your pen and standing to follow her. 

Your position at the bureau is kind of a catch-all. Most of your time is spent logging data, building reports, and doing general research for the team. Occasionally, though, you jump in to help Garcia with real-time research. Nothing as high-stakes as her direct assignments, more background work. Calling offices to talk to managers, combing through more meticulous data, generic census material to rule out obvious dead ends. 

It’s stressful work that technically isn’t what you’re paid for but you never complain. Your team saves lives, consistently putting themselves in the line of danger. If you have to spend a few hours a month helping Garcia call a suspect's manager at McDonald's to see if he still works there, it’s literally the least you can do. 

“Yes, so, it looks like our unsub…”

You drown out Garcia’s brief about information you already have sitting in front of you and begin vetting possible suspects from the large pool her system created.

It’s going to be a long night. You think about future Brado to cheer you up. 

-

“Reid, Prentiss take the back,” Hotch’s voice fills your ears. You imagine the pair nodding and splitting off from the group. 

This is your least favorite part of helping the team with active investigations – listening in on the calls. It’s rare that you and Garcia join the line when they’re approaching the unsub but, with you helping her, it isn’t a risk to distract Garcia and a much quicker method of getting any new information the team needs. It’s a new system you’ve only tried thrice, unsure how having microphones on 24/7 will work, and it grants you and the team more fluid communication.

Still, adrenaline floods your veins as you listen to their coms, the sounds of Garcia typing a constant behind their voices, imagining every way this could go wrong. 

You suspect the girl is still alive, the uncle doesn’t seem to have any reason to kill her just yet, but your fear for her grows with every minute. 

“Clear!”

Your eyes fall to the receipts flooding your screen. Ammo. A new rifle and pistol. The team knows but the evidence of this unsubs ability to hurt any of your friends, your family, isn’t helping your nerves. 

“I think he’s going to the roof!” Morgan’s voice, clear in the comms. 

You click out of the documents. Two swift motions on the screen. The firm press of the button. 

“Morgan, you’re on foot. Prentiss, follow him. Everyone else in vans, go!”

“Garcia, map out possible escape routes from the roof,” you instruct. 

She nods, screens shifting immediately. She puts on her own headset with one hand and clicks on the call and starts to bark information to Hotch. 

“Got her!” Reid’s voice sounds and you deflate a little. He mutes as he begins to console the small girl. 

You know you can take off your headset now, leave the call, and go to your paperwork. There isn’t much more you can do to help – you’re sure that’s what you’re supposed to do – but you stay on anyway, listening. 

“Right on Elmore!” Morgan calls. You find the street on Garcia’s screen, eyes tracing the path you think they’re taking. 

“We’ll try to cut him off,” Rossi says and you can hear tires in the background of the call. The click of a steering wheel cutting to the side too quickly. Someone’s labored breathing – probably Morgan’s as he dead sprints. 

“Stop! Put your hands up!” Emily shouts. The firmness in her voice makes you sit up straighter in your chair. 

You hear something that sounds vaguely like, “bitch,” before a loud pop drowns anything else out. 

“Emily!” Morgan’s voice, more pops. 

Gunfire. That’s gunfire, your brain recognizes. 

Your blood has gone cold.

“We need a medic!” Morgan shouts. Hotch’s line blinks red, going dead as he calls the ambulance. “Emily, Emily.”

Rustling. Cars. Sirens. Morgan’s line goes dead after you hear a car door slam shut. Then Reid’s and Rossi’s. Emily’s is the last to stay green, blinking.

You and Garcia stare at each other as you listen to Emily be loaded into an ambulance. Listen to Morgan tell the team, voice far away and barely tangible, that the unsub only managed to fire out one shot before he downed him. 

Neither of you can hear where she was shot or how badly injured she is before Emily’s line goes red as well.

-

“Emily?” You call softly, rapping your knuckles softly on the frame of the cracked hospital door. 

Your name, faint, answers you and you take that as permission to nudge the door open. The room looked dark from the hallway but Emily has the small lamp embedded on the wall switched on, throwing her face into harsh shadow. 

“Hey, you,” you say, walking in, arms full. “I brought things.”

“You didn’t have to do that,” she says, trying to sit herself up further and wincing as the motion pulls on her stitches in her abdomen. 

“Wait, let me help you,” you say, setting your things down and reaching out a hand. 

You wait for her nod before touching her, letting her grasp your arm and looping your other arm around the back of her waist to take most of her weight yourself. 

“Thanks,” she mumbles. You can tell she hates feeling useless, hates needing help for something as simple as sitting up, so you drop the subject with a nod and kind smile. 

You turn around to the small rolling tray where you put your things down, pulling two black containers out from a plastic bag. You feel silly and very awkward as you turn around to show them to her. 

“I know it’s probably not quite what you meant but,” you set the containers down on her bed and pop one open. 

“The Pasta Brado! Oh man, I was going to treat you.” She’s pouting through a smile, attempting to put on an upset facade and failing miserably. 

It’s so cute that you struggle with what to say next. 

“Thank you, really. You can pull up that chair, if you’re hungry now.”

You grab the chair she’s motioned to and drag it to sit next to her. “I’m hungry if you are. It might be a little cold, though, it’s kind of a far walk.”

“You walked here?” Emily asks, tone appalled and face comically shocked. 

“Yeah, my car broke down last week. I’ve been walking to work – it’s actually really nice out right now – and I couldn’t find a cab from the bistro.” You busy yourself with the food while you talk, opening the second container, setting it on her legs, and unwrapping the plastic cutlery for her. 

“Jesus! You didn’t need to come and see me if you don’t have a car. You didn’t need to come at all, actually. I really appreciate it,” she amends, seeing how your bashful smile freezes on your face, reaching forward as if to touch your face and brushing your shoulder instead. “It’s really sweet of you but you didn’t need to walk all that way. Isn’t it like a twenty-minute walk from here?”

Over thirty, but you nod anyway, knowing it won’t help your case to correct her. “It’s not a big deal. You were shot in the stomach, of course I wanted to see you.”

“Ah, so you wouldn't want to see me otherwise,” she teases, nodding and pushing her pasta around with her fork. She doesn’t even try to conceal her grin. 

“Ha ha, very funny,” you mumble. You take a bite of your food and your eyes widen. “Oh my god.”

“I knew you would love it,” she beams, watching your expression as you taste the food. You you she meant to say it in a gloating way but you swear you can hear a sort of fondness behind the words. Something in you warms at her ability to know you so well. 

You tell yourself you’re overreacting about both thoughts. 

“You were right – Emily this is unfairly good.”

“Oh, I know,” she says, taking her own bite and letting out an exaggerated moan, complete with an eye roll. You giggle and she smiles at you. “Thank you, this is exactly what I needed.”

“You’re welcome,” you say, holding her eye contact. 

She's been in the hospital for three days, transferred back to Virginia last night; her hair is unwashed and unbrushed, and she’s wearing no makeup and a hospital gown. 

She’s still the prettiest girl you’ve ever seen. 

-

Your car is fixed by the time Emily is released from the hospital two days later and you offer to take her home. 

“Hi Sergio,” you greet the cat brushing against your legs as Emily disengages the alarm. 

You set her things down by the door before turning to offer her your arm. Emily doesn’t pretend that she doesn’t need the help when it’s just you two, something you’re grateful for after watching her struggle with the team around, and lets you guide her to her bedroom. 

You set about making her comfortable, turning down her sheets and propping the pillows up so she can sit. 

“I’ve got it,” she laughs, playfully pushing away your hands. 

You laugh along with her, raising your hands and backing away. “I’m going to go put the rest of your stuff away and get you a drink.”

“Perfect, I’ll take an old-fashioned. Don’t forget the cherry.”

You roll your eyes at her, scoffing and leaving her room. 

You throw her clothes and go-bag in her laundry room before making her a glass of water and another glass of juice. Once you’re sure she’s settled in her bed with her book, you return to the kitchen to make her a few dinners, ignoring her protests. 

-

Emily is back in the field much sooner than you would have liked. 

“I was cleared by the doctors,” she tells you, coat slung over her arm as she digs through her bag for her badge. 

You smile at Martin, sending him a mock exasperated look, before she finds her ID and shows it to him. 

“It still seems too soon, Em,” you persist, reaching forward to push the elevator button and turning so you can lean back to watch her face. 

“Em?” Emily asks, the hint of a smile pulling up the left corner of her mouth. 

You sort of feel like you could die in that moment, just from the heat that simple gesture surges through you. 

“It just sort of slipped out, sorry,” you say, thoroughly embarrassed. 

The elevator dings and the doors open, throwing you off balance for a second. This doesn’t help your already flared nerves as you stumble back and drop your bag. You reach down to gather it and the files scattered across the floor. 

You’re kneeling to stuff everything in your bag when Emily crosses your line of sight again, wide smile on her face – teeth fully on display and nose scrunched, you are in desperate need of help – holding out your notepad.

“I think the nickname’s sweet. I kind of like the idea of having a name only one person, only you, calls me.”

All of the air has left this godforsaken elevator, the heat must be on, you stare dumbly at her as she reaches forward to grab your bag and put the rest of your papers inside of it for you. 

And then, realizing you look like an absolute idiot, you snap back into your body and cough slightly. The doors ding and open again, you grab your bag from her and stand slowly. Smiling at her, still crouched on the floor and looking, amused, up at you through her eyelashes, you say, “Okay. Thanks, then, Emmy.”

You walk away after that brief flash of confidence, telling yourself you’re just imagining how you swear her face flushed bright at your comment. 

And if Morgan mentions a few minutes that Emily seems flusters, well, who can blame you for floating on that high for a few days?

Except she doesn’t let it go. 

She corners you on your break in the kitchenette. Literally. She catches you when you’re examining the coffee pot that has been making concerning gurgles for the past few days and leans on the counter behind you, effectively blocking your exit. 

Not that you really want to leave. 

She’s wearing a red tank top and dark jeans, her hair is loose around her shoulders, eyes steadily trained on your face as you work. 

“Hello,” you say, quiet in a way you’re not normally. 

“Hi.”

“What’re you doing?” You ask after a few more moments of her silently staring at you while you pretend to know what you’re doing with a screwdriver. 

“Enjoying the view.”

You drop your screwdriver and relish in the sound of her laugh. 

-

You’d love to say that you had some suave answer to return her charm but you think you spent it all that morning with your boldness. 

You’re not shy but confidence doesn’t run in your blood either. You’d say you’re pretty normal – average. You don’t find much wrong with that, you know you have other qualities that build you up into an interesting person. You love your friends and coworkers deeply, for one. And have an intense trust in them and their abilities. 

That trust is always tested in your day-to-day at work but never more than now as you feel the car around you make turns at highway speeds. You think you’re on some sort of back road but it’s hard to tell from the trunk given the obvious lack of windows. 

You’re calmer than you thought you would be if kidnapped. 

Groaning after one particularly rough turn that has you jostling against the sides of the trunk, you allow your head to thump back and stare at the inside of the dark car. Light breaks through the cracks of the hinges of the trunk and you wonder if water trickles through when it rains. 

You’ve been in here too long to consider if you’re focused on the wrong things. You’re scared shitless, of course, but the adrenaline faded about an hour into your drive and now you’re just bored. 

Imagine that – bored as fuck in the trunk of a stranger's car, wrists burning from the rope and jaw sore from where it’s been forced open too long by the fabric tied around the back of your head. 

You’re just allowing yourself to reimagine your morning with Emily when the car stops and the engine cuts. 

You snap back into the present, energy flooding your system again as your brain flicks into overdrive. You might spend your days paper-pushing behind a desk, but you passed your physical. You’re smart, you’ve heard the stories of how these victims survive captivity. 

When the trunk pops open, you squeeze your eyes shut to prevent pain from the sudden lack of light. You don’t want to be blinded and the action has the added benefit of pleasing your captor. He put a hood over your hood when he grabbed you, muttering in your ear in tense tones that you would do best to not even try to see him. 

Say what you will, you usually do a pretty good job at following directions. This one is easy and happens to be number one on your list right now – keep him happy so he keeps you alive. 

“Good girl,” a gruff voice says before a calloused hand gropes the back of your neck to yank you forward. Scratchy fabric envelops your head and your hot breath bounces back against you, trapped against the fabric of the hood. 

You stand when his hands start to grab your waist, pulling yourself to your knees and allowing yourself to be lifted from the trunk.

You want to run but know now’s not the time. 

“Look at how well-behaved you are!” His breath is wet against your neck. He stands too close, hands clawing under the hem of your shirt to cling to your skin. 

He walks you forward like that, chest pressed against your back and breath slithering down the collar of your shirt to hang uncomfortably over your collarbones. 

It’s becoming increasingly more obvious what this sicko wants from you and your stomach is twisting at the thought. You urge the team to hurry up, knowing your absence would have been missed ages ago. They have to be looking for you by now. And, with how sloppy this dude seems to be, he must have left a plethora of clues waiting to be found. 

You have to repeat this to yourself as you hear a door lock click. 

“Took you long enough. This is the girl? She’s kind of … well,” the second man kisses his teeth with a sharp sound. You’re pushed forward again. “Whatever floats your boat man.” The door shuts and locks behind you. The second man's voice fades as he talks, disinterested. 

You wonder if it’s wrong to feel slightly insulted right now. 

“This way, doll.”

You listen. It’s saving your life to be complicit in his directions, so you listen. Still, you’re shoved harshly to the floor once you get to where he wants you, knees striking what feels like cement. Before you can recover, your cheek stings and your head is whipping to the side from a sudden slap. 

Then, there’s a kick to your ribs. You fall onto your side, too winded to even cry out, lips falling open in a silent scream. A boot in your belly. Your ribs again, your hip and back. 

“Why?” You manage to sob out. “Why, why?”

You don’t get an answer.

-

You’re not overly religious but you thank whatever heavens or universe exists that he leaves you alone once he’s done kicking the shit out of you. Your ribs are bruised but the worst you expected hasn’t happened. 

The boredom returns as you lay with throbbing ribs. At least one is broken and every breath hurts. You can’t imagine sitting up and, luckily, with your hands tied behind your back, it’s not really an option anyway. 

It must be near an hour later when you’re fading out of consciousness – a purposeful choice on your part to save your energy – when you hear the front door burst down. 

“FBI! Hands where I can see them!” Morgan. You nearly weep but think better when your stuttered gasp makes your side throb. “What the fuck?” You hear shouted in reply. “Robb, what the fuck man.”

There isn’t much of a resistance from the living room. The second man is shouting at what you can only assume is the first – your initial kidnapper – but there’s nothing else other than that. 

“Clear!” You hear Hotch call. Spencer replies and then you hear the door nearest you open. 

His voice calls out your name. You deflate against the floor. A second, you know he’s scanning the room with his gun before holstering it. “Clear! I need a medic!”

Hands, gentle, against your face, removing the hood. Swifter after that, removing your gag, and then hand binds. 

“Hey, Spence,” you say, trying to smile up at him. 

“Shh, you’re okay. We’ve got you.” He starts to support your weight behind your shoulders and the pain that brings is too intense to prevent your yelp. 

“Oh my god, is she okay?” You hear Emily ask seconds before you see her. She looks concerned, hair now in a tight ponytail and FBI vest strapped over her chest. She whispers your name once and then a second time, reaching forward to gently brush your hair out of your eyes. 

“Hey, pretty,” you say, words tumbling out of your mouth before you can catch them.

“Hi beautiful,” she answers, reply just as soft as your own. Earnest. 

It makes your heart ache and, for the first time since being yanked off the road walking to grab lunch, you start to cry. 

“Hey, hey, I’m sorry. I’m sorry, beautiful, it’s okay. You’re okay.” She repeats this as you’re lifted by the paramedics and cry harder. 

She repeats it when they stitch up where kicks burst the skin over your cheekbone open, repeats it as she trails a hand down your arm in gentle patterns while they examine your ribs and confirm that you’ve broken two, maybe three. 

She tries with you in the ambulance. 

You can’t help but think about being on the phone when you heard Emily be shot weeks earlier. You squeeze your eye shut as they insert the IV, beyond grateful that she’s there to hold your hand while they do it. The tear that falls down your cheek has nothing to do with the pain and everything to do with the thought that you couldn’t have been there for her in the same way. 

An odd thought, you realize, but it’s the one you’re stuck with as you drift away when the pain medicine enters your system. 

-

You’re sent home three days later. You insist on spending the night alone, afraid to admit you’re scared because, honestly, nothing much happened to you. 

Oh, of course, everyone tries to convince you otherwise but you know they’ve all had it worse. You were gone from the bureau for about eight hours and spent most of it bored. 

So you force yourself to spend the night alone. You don’t need help moving around or doing things for yourself so you convince yourself you don’t need help. 

You’re cooking dinner when the doorbell rings. You wipe your hands with a dish towel and take your time walking to the door to look through the peephole. You don’t know who took you yet, you haven’t asked and nobody has said, but you can imagine seeing him through the door. Waiting for you, waiting to kill you this time. 

Okay, yeah, maybe Spencer was right when he talked about PTSD and usual levels of anxiety, but you’re so tired of him being so right all of the time that you really want to prove him right.

There is no man standing on the other side of the door, though. Instead, you see Emily, holding a plate wrapped in tin foil and looking serene in your apartment hallway. 

You open the door quickly, unlatching it and turning off your alarm with a few clicks. “Emily?”

“Ah, man, I was getting used to Emmy,” she jokes, stepping inside with a smile in your direction and kicking off her shoes. 

You can’t think of an answer so you just smile at her, hoping she’ll take the lead. You’re tired and she must see it because she offers the plate in her hands to you once the door is closed and the alarm is reengaged. 

“Rossi sent me with it with explicit instructions to not let you share it.”

You giggle and take the plate. “I’ll have to tell him thank you. It’s kind of out of your way to come all this way, though, isn’t it?”

“Not out of my way at all,” she says, words dripping with meaning as she holds your eyes. “I would have come even if Rossi didn’t have food for you.”

“So why are you here?”

“To make a fool of myself,” she says, casually, like that’s something people say every day, “probably. You’ve just gotten back from the hospital and I know you said you wanted to be alone, but,” she swallows and her words are becoming more rushed as she speaks, “I said the same thing and you still stayed.”

“Emily?” You ask, setting the plate down on your hallway table and clearing your throat. “Ah, Emmy?” You amend when she cuts you a look. Your attempt to diffuse the tension doesn’t work and she steps closer so you’re toe to toe.

“That doesn’t really answer your question, though. You’re sweet enough that you would let it go, but,” she shrugs, reaching forward to gently loop her fingers around your wrists. “Stop me if this is awful timing. Please,” she says, leaning forward and staring into your eyes. 

You feel like you’re suffocating, but if this is death, you’ll greet it gladly in the irises of Emily Prentiss. You’re caught in the trap of the moment, heart hardly breathing, all aches and sores forgotten because Emily is leaning closer, breath fanning across your face. You feel intoxicated, ensnared. 

Everything that has ever been exists here, now, in this moment. Every breath used to blow out birthday candles and blow away eyelashes – breaths with purpose, with wishes, with intent – exists between the two of you as she leans closer and closer. Closer, still, and how can so much distance exist between you two when you’ve been standing so closely?

“Just, stop me, if you want,” she whispers against your lips, eyes falling shut. 

Time yawns again, freezing. Your eyes open, hers closed, beats of seconds pausing. Hesitating for you to hold this moment in your hands. You’re grateful to appreciate it because she really is so lovely. Her bangs are pushed back from her face with a headband – imagine that! Emily owns headbands! – and you can see every detail of her face. Her elegant nose, her slim eyebrows, her narrow, prominent, lips.

And then your heart finally catches up, beats loudly, cracks whatever fragile plane of glass holding the moment so perfectly still, and her lips are meeting yours. 

You gasp into her mouth, hands breaking out of her hold to grab her face. You’re afraid that she’s going to pull away before this kiss can be fully real. Before you can actually taste her – lemon cake and rain and warmth. Before you can memorize the feel of her lips pressed against your own before you can drag her closer and slip your hands into her hair. 

But she doesn’t pull away. She meets your enthusiasm with a sigh and then enthusiasm tenfold. You can feel relief in the kiss, feel how she relaxes into you. She takes a step forward and you take one back half the amount to account for it. 

A tilt of your head and it’s better, impossibly. She’s firm, sturdy, beautiful. Confident. Lovely, lovely, lovely. 

And then she reaches forward to hold you to her, hands brushing your ribs to wrap around your back and you can’t hold in the gasp of pain that causes you to stiffen. You want to take it back, want to ignore the pain, want to keep her near, but she won’t allow it.

“Oh, I’m so so sorry. Are you okay? I’m sorry.” You smush the apologies against her lips, removing one hand from her hand to guide her arms around your shoulders where they won’t hurt. “Okay! Okay,” she giggles, leaning back with several short kisses that do nothing to satiate you. “I need to know you’re okay.”

She can obviously tell she hasn’t hurt you too bad by your reaction, but the sweet caution in her voice has you melting further. 

“I’m perfect.”

Decadent Desires Ch 16

Emily Prentiss x fem!reader warnings: language, alcohol, smut, oral, life chats about shitty childhood experiences. nothing too bad.

For a little insight to the resort, check out these vids: https://vm.tiktok.com/ZMrqQUKe3/ (for the sake of the story we ARE pretending that this is an all inclusive & food/drinks aren’t an extra cost!)

Emily spent the next couple of days flipping through brochures and scrolling through various locations the Waldorf had but nothing pulled her attention like the one in the Maldives did. Each time she had a spare second to let her brain drift from the task at hand she found herself daydreaming of white sand beaches, stunning turquoise water and the luxury of experiencing all from your own private villa. She needed to go, whether alone, with a friend or with you she honestly didn’t even really care at this point.

So she began to plant the seeds, slowly, spreading them out over time and making sure to nurture them, casually having them drop into conversation. She knew she couldn’t just spring and entire vacation on you, there were multiple things to think of, arrange and take care of before any of that could happen.

First it was a casual conversation the following week, asking about the info drop at Heather’s house, if you really didn’t celebrate Christmas or if she was just teasing, that you had some fun traditions with friends for that time of year. When you said you didn’t, your tradition was usually solo pizza and sweatpants, she could successfully check off the first box on her list.

Second, she lucked out, a mutual friend posting a beachside selfie to their Instagram story that she was able to send to you, her caption reading ‘must be nice’. A few seconds later your reply came through, ‘god, there are few things I wouldn’t do to be oceanside in the sun right now.’

Third, you were out for dinner together at what was a pretty trendy and touristy spot in town and when you server greeted you they asked if you were on vacation. You both laughed it off and after they left you let out a soft groan, muttering about how you hadn’t been on a vacation since the last election. Emily half teasing, asked if you even got vacation time with a job like yours and you chuckled, explaining that Heather was nice enough that if someone from her team didn’t use their vacation time for one calendar year it would carry over to the next, you had about four months racked up, sitting there getting dusty and practically begging to be used.

The fourth and final nod for her to bite the bullet was when she was leaving the Waldorf one morning, the concierge calling out to her, waving her over with a warm smile. They asked if she’d done any thinking about the Maldives, saying that reservations were filling up pretty quickly and they didn’t want her to miss out on the opportunity. They went as far to say that they’d put a thirty six hour hold on a villa for her and that she should definitely think about it, it was a once in a lifetime experience after all. It only took a minute as she chewed on her lip, thinking about her own piled up vacation time and how happy Bailey would be to have her out of his hair for at least a week and she was pulling out her card.

It originally hadn’t meant to be a surprise, she had been planning on actually bringing it up to you, seeing if you were interested and had the actual and emotional time and energy for something like this. There was technically still a chance all you wanted to do over the break was rot in your bed eating takeout and not see a single human at all. Which is why she spent more time fidgeting around with dates than even making the decision to go in the first place, making sure you should have time on both sides of the trip to do whatever it was you’d want to not celebrate the season. She reminded herself that this was nothing out of the ordinary, this wasn’t some huge, luxurious, grand gesture or anything, sugar babies were very regularly taken on vacations like this.

So what if it just so happened that The Maldives were a little fancier than Florida?

**

Your coat was already on, unbuttoned and loosely opened in the front, bag dangling from your elbow as you stopped in the doorway to Heather’s office.

“You wanted to see me before I left?” You asked, lingering just a few steps into the room, “and please don’t let this drag on too long, I’ve still got to go find a couple of new dresses before dinner.”

Heather glanced up from her laptop, “oh, I just wanted to let you know your vacation request was approved, glad to see you’re finally using up some of that time.”

Your head tilted, nose scrunching slightly as you stepped further into the room, “are you sure you’ve got the right person? Amelia and I do have incredibly similar work emails…I only put in for three days.”

She turned back to her laptop, clicking through a few things before looking back up at you, “definitely not Amelia.” She shrugged, “you’re getting paid for the time off, you may as well take advantage of it.”

“I—” Before you could fully formulate a response, there was a clatter of noise behind you and you turned just in time to see Tony catching himself on the doorframe, nearly tripping over his own feet as he entered the office.

“Oh good, I managed to catch you before you left, McGee just would not shut up—”

“What the hell are you doing here?” You asked, glancing between him and Heather, the grin slowly beginning to curl her lips up.

Tony shrugged, nodding toward your boss, “she told me to show up at three, pick up her black card and take you shopping for some summer clothes and the sluttiest bikinis we could find.”

“Bikinis?” You raised a brow, turning back to Heather who simply smirked, handing Tony her card and waving the two of you off.

“Well, get going. Would hate for you to be late for dinner with Emily.”

“Emily…” Tony taunted, “ooooooo… now we’ve got a naaaaammee.” He began to prod at your side, jabbing at your ribs before you punched him in the stomach.

“You stop talking right now and maybe I’ll even model some of the bikinis for you.”

He immediately froze, mimicking zipping his mouth shut and throwing away the key as his eyes sparkled and you rolled your own with a scoff before dragging him out of the office.

**

Obviously, Emily had absolutely no reason to be worried about you being shocked or turning down the accidental surprise. But if she had any lingering hesitancies, they were certainly blown away the second the jet touched down and you were escorted to your own private yacht to journey across the ocean to the island resort.

Greeted with fresh warm hand towels and given a mini tour of the boat you were offered a variety of drinks, choosing coffee first to wake up from the plane ride followed by a champagne toast to kick off the start of your vacation. The journey to the island was only similar to a ferry in that it was a boat over water, you were given free reign of the vessel and even offered the opportunity to drive through the calm waters. With the sun basking down on you, most of the time was spent on the roof of the boat, picking through a handful of tapas and getting endless refills of champagne, the true sense of relaxation soothing deep through both of your bodies.

Resort staff greeted you at the island, whisking your bags away for easy transport while you were offered fresh watermelon juice to check in with, making sure that all of your accommodations were set up properly. A brief tour of the main lodge was given, a few of the dining and gift options shown off before you were escorted to a golf cart for a tour of the full private island and all of the amenities you had to take advantage of over the next week and a half. Emily’s hand naturally fell to your thigh while you rode, her thumb stroking at your skin and you couldn’t help but pick up her hand in yours.

Arriving at your overwater villa you almost instantly wanted to scold Emily for how much she must have spent on the place, but between the staff making sure you had no more questions and your distraction by the luxury resort, your thoughts were quickly washed away. The first door opened to the large outdoor space, bicycles for getting around the island on your own, a large cushy porch swing and cozy seating area that was covered, looking out into the ocean. Beyond that was the sun soaked piece of the porch, multiple loungers looking directly into the water, nets sitting directly over the ocean to relax in and if that wasn’t enough, your own large private pool and a hanging daybed on the other end of the area to tie it all together.

Through another door and you entered the inside of the villa, floor to ceiling windows that could slide open to let the fresh salt air breeze around you no matter what time of day. A king sized bed that you just knew was going to be the comfiest thing you’d ever sleep in facing the windows for ample sunset views, large television on an angle from the bed for those late night movie binges and of course long black out curtains for those mornings you just wanted to sleep in. The bedroom had its own mini bar and coffee station, a complimentary bottle of wine and basket of fruit and treats left out for the two of you to enjoy. The small hallway leading to the bathroom had a glass floor to see straight through to the crystal waters. The bathroom itself was huge, two glass walled standing showers and a tub that would easily fit both of you facing yet another wall of sliding doors.

“Emily…” you breathed out, turning back to face her, “this is insane.”

“First vacation in four years? I like to think it has to be pretty memorable.”

“No kidding.” You replied, eyes still scanning around the villa as you leant in, pressing a soft kiss to her cheek. “I don’t even know where to start…” You couldn’t help yourself turning on your toes trying to soak it all in.

She chuckled softly, leaning in and kissing the back of your neck, “well… I heard you might have a couple of new suits… you could start with one of those.”

“I do suppose working on my tan would be a good first choice.” You glanced over your shoulder at her, a gleam in your eye as you practically skipped back to the bedroom to change, eager to take advantage of the warmth and sun.

*

You’d been sprawled across one of the outdoor loungers enjoying the sun while finally getting a chance to start on one of the many books in your to read pile for the majority of the morning. An empty cup of iced coffee on the table beside you along with a plate of very succulent and incredibly fresh fruit you were still occasionally picking at. Your finger slid through a page, realizing you’d come to the end of your current chapter and your head rolled back toward the villa, Emily had been napping when you first came out but she wasn’t in the bed any longer.

Curiosity (and the desire for a coffee refill) got the best of you, letting out a content sigh as you stood from the lounger, padding back up the deck to the villa. Emily had pulled a cover up over her swim suit, sat at one of the chairs with her laptop in front of her. You clicked your tongue, but she didn’t seem to notice you returning inside as you walked up behind her, your arm reaching over her shoulder to gently shut the laptop.

“Emily…” you warned, your lips brushing at the side of her neck, “now is not the time.”

“Just one—” She was cut off from even unlocking her phone as you plucked it from her hand, nipping at her neck.

“You pick up your work phone one more time and I’m throwing it into the ocean.” You murmured into her ear, your hand sliding up the back of her neck, threading through her hair as you moved it off to one side. “I didn’t even bring my work phone. C’mon.”

With a slight sigh, she pushed back from the desk, standing up to face you, her first thought that you were going to drag her into the ocean. Instead she was met with your hands toying with the knot of her cover up, gently nudging her further inside the villa.

“You left the BAU in JJ’s very capable hands, if there’s some sort of freak emergency, they can call your personal cell.” You got the robe undone, letting it drape over her shoulders, “you deserve this vacation as much as I do, if not even more. So relax,” the back of her knees hit the bed, her tongue darting out to wet her lips as she noticed the way your eyes were darkening. “You need it, and I’m gonna do everything I can to make sure you come back from here as refreshed as possible.”

“Sounds like a pretty good offer.” She teased and you laughed.

“It’s a guarantee.”

With a gentle nudge from you, Emily fell back onto the bed, shifting until she was comfortable laying against the lush pillows and you dropped over her. Your mouth returned to her neck, pressing sticky kisses into it as your hands began to roam. She could feel the warmth wafting off your sun soaked skin, the slightest hint of coconut from your sunscreen and you had completely invaded her senses. Any singular thought about work gone, every worry melting away a little bit more each time your lips brushed over her body.

Emily let out a soft moan as you trailed down her collarbone, fingers shifting the fabric of her suit to the side to suck a nipple into your mouth, bringing it to a peak before repeating the action on the other side. You kissed, licked and sucked your way across her stomach and down her body until you were settled in between her legs, fingers slipping into the bottoms of her swim suit, sliding it to the side to give you full access to her pussy. Her breath caught in her throat as you blew cool air onto it, fingertips brushing feather light over her slit before pressing into her clit and her eyes fell shut.

“Fuck…”

“You like that?” You murmured, fingers running through her folds again, this time pressing a little harder, dipping into her wetness before swirling around her clit and she let out a low moan.

Rather than wait for a response you leant forward, tongue swiping through her folds, flicking at her clit and your lips curved into a grin at the sound that came from between her lips. Your mouth eagerly wrapped around her, tongue dipping into her cunt, groaning over the sweet taste of her juices. Emily’s hands quickly found their way into your hair, tugging at the up do while trying not to grind herself onto your face.

She could feel the pleasure flying through her already, little sparks shooting off every time your tongue brushed through her, her pussy getting wetter and wetter as her breath started to pick up. In any other situation she felt like she’d be a little embarrassed about how quickly she was turned on and by how much. How the simple movements of your mouth against her cunt had her practically whimpering already, her lower lip trapped between her teeth. However there was something so incredibly different about this, the wide open doors, the entire ocean ten feet from the bed almost feeling like the two of you were exposed to the world when you were actually in your own little bubble. Rather than the sounds of the city, honking cars, people yelling, constant traffic all she could hear was the gentle waves of the ocean, the occasional bird and of course you groaning into her pussy. The entire thing was wildly erotic yet intimate and somehow the most relaxing thing in the world.

As if you could sense the little bit that was Emily still holding back you reluctantly pulled your mouth off of her, your thumb replacing it, pressing through her folds and rubbing at her clit.

“Don’t hold back, there’s no need to keep quiet.” You murmured, nipping gently at her inner thigh and her lip burst free, a gasp coming from the back of her throat.

“Shit!” She felt her hips buck up off the mattress as your mouth returned between her legs, this time wrapping around her clit. “Oh god that’s good.” She couldn’t help but let out a whine, “more, please!”

Your tongue flicked varying patterns across her swollen clit and your hand snuck up between her legs, two fingers easily slipping into her dripping cunt. Her thighs twitched around you, a low swear leaving her lips as her eyes scrunched tighter shut and the fingers in your hair tightened. You wasted no time, crooking your fingers with each thrust until she cried out.

“Fuck! Right there!”

A smirk took over your lips and you increased the pressure on her clit, feeling it throbbing between your lips as her pussy fluttered around your fingers. You picked up the pace, matching the timing that her hips would jump up off the bed, small cries escaping her lips as your fingers continued to brush the sensitive spot over and over again. Each time she felt you pressing just a little bit harder, lingering just a little bit longer and before she knew it her body was shaking, your hands pinning her thighs to the bed as you fucked her through her orgasm.

“Christ.” She muttered, running a hand over her face and you laughed softly.

“Feeling more relaxed?”

“Yeah.”

“Hmm…” you grinned wickedly up at her from between her legs, your fingers beginning to smear around her juices, “your words are still pretty coherent, I think I better give it another go.”

She couldn’t even open her mouth to protest before you were back on her and she let out a low moan, head dropping back into the pillows. Every single thought left her, the only thing remaining was the feeling of your mouth, warm and wet on her pussy and the soothing sounds of the ocean as you brought her to her peak another four times.

**

Neither of you had even realized just how much you both needed the break, away from your time consuming and draining careers, to be so far from society out on your own little slice of heaven over the water. Waking up with the sun daring to peak through the curtains, the sounds and smell of the ocean drifting through the villa was one thing, but getting to truly enjoy it, lounging tangled in the sheets while coffee brewed and breakfast was delivered, half the time drowsing off again until you were truly rested, was a whole different story.

Between enjoying the privacy of your villa, warm ocean water and exploring the resort you definitely got your share of vacation. Dinner down at an extensive beach BBQ, the buffet so long you couldn’t possibly fit everything you wanted on even two plates, surrounded by people having a good time, live music and a DJ to keep everyone entertained. There were movie nights under the stars, a variety of genres to keep everyone happy, the earlier the movie the more PG, the darker the sky got, the more fun was had.

You were allowed to completely relax and be yourselves, there was no worry of having to uphold an image, no one cared about who you were or your reputation. Between that and the privacy of the resort, you were free to do whatever you want, and that included public displays of affection. There were no potential spying eyes of FBI management or staff of other government officials who were always looking for dirt. You were free to be you and more importantly, be together. Emily’s hand playing with yours over the table top, tracing the lines of your palm with her fingertip, your arm interlocking with hers as you walked down the beach, her hand on the small of your back to direct you out of the way of foot traffic. The freedom brought a whole new level of peace to an already incredible vacation.

Back at the villa one night after a few rounds of trivia accompanied by fruity cocktails, the hotel staff had made a nightly round to freshen up the mini bar and offer to light a fire in the pit on the veranda. Knowing your night was far from over and you’d very much enjoy more time in the fresh air you accepted the offer, Emily grabbing a couple of the smaller blankets to drape over two of the chairs outside. She heard the shower come to a halt in the other room, followed by the swooshing of the door and sounds of you drying off and searching for clothes.

“Hey, you want a beer or some of this sangria?” She called, picking up a few bottles from the mini bar to examine them.

“Oh my god, beer please. No more sugar or I’m gonna wake up with the world’s worst stomach ache.” You called back, tugging on a pair of pj shorts before finally finding a tank top for under your Georgetown hoodie.

Emily had wandered out onto the patio, cracking both beers and placing one down onto the table for you as she got comfortable by the fire. You came out a few minutes later, one of your hands shaking out your wet hair while your eyes were on a couple of smaller bottles in your other hand.

“How much do you know about hair care?” You asked and Emily huffed out a laugh.

“Boxed dye will destroy it, just let it be natural.”

“So no vote on whether argan or coconut oil is better?”

“No.” She chuckled, taking a swig of her beer.

“Whatever.” You shrugged, dropping the two bottles onto the table before scooping up your beer to take a swig, settling in the chair beside her, a happy sigh leaving your lips at the warmth of the fire. Placing your beer down on the table you slid the hair elastic off your wrist, flipping your head over and gathering all your hair up into a ball.

“Okay, no!” Emily protested, her hand smacking your arm.

“What?” You asked, straightening up as you tightened the band.

“Your hair is soaked and even after washing probably coated with a mix of chlorine and salt, you do that and sleep on it, you’re gonna wake up with it matted so bad it’s practically dreadlocks. At least put it in a braid.”

“It’ll be fine.” You shrugged, “and if I try to braid it it’ll be just as messy.”

Emily gave you a side eye glance, her head tilting in near disappointment, “I’m not dealing with your complaining over knots tomorrow, go find a comb and then come here.”

You shot her a glance but put your beer down to search through the villa while Emily picked up the two bottles of serum, reading through the blurbs on the back before choosing one and you returned to the front of her chair. She pulled a cushion off the spare chair, placing it at her feet as she shifted forward so you could settle on it between her knees.

“Sit.”

You did as she asked, plopping down onto the pillow and handing her the comb as you began to tug the elastic out of your hair. You could already hear Emily grumbling behind you at the harsh way you were treating your hair, her hand quickly wrapping around your wrist to stop your movement, taking the elastic from you to delicately remove it from the already forming knots.

Her fingertips slid up the back of your scalp, softly shaking out your locks, slowly combing through to make sure there were no big knots to be worked through gently before she brushed it with the comb. Emily parted your hair, pulling the comb through it until your hair was smooth and you let out a happy sigh, relaxing further against her.

“You want one or two?” She asked, smoothing back a couple of fly aways with her hand.

“I’ve only got one elastic.” You replied, holding it up and she laughed.

“One it is.”

Moving the comb back through your hair once again she began to style it in preparation for the single braid, gathering pieces of your hair between her fingers as the comb found a home on her lap. Somehow every pass of her fingers matched the rhythm of the waves softly crashing against the sand, drifting underneath your villa. Emily hummed happily, her eyes drifting from your head to the horizon.

“God it’s peaceful out here.”

“Tell me about it.” You replied, a dream-like smile on your cheeks. “And a world better than plates clattering, screaming children, adults yelling and overplayed Christmas music. I can only hear Silver Bells so many times before I want to rip my ear drums out.”

Emily laughed, her fingers slowing to fix a couple pieces of hair, “is it just Christmas you skip out on celebrating or is it all holidays?”

“I think most are useless.” You shrugged, “Halloween’s pretty cool but it kinda loses appeal as you age. First you’re too old to trick or treat, then the parties are all about getting wasted. Thanks to the job I get to be incredibly passionate about the Fourth of July, but fuck celebrating much else, there really isn’t a point. It’s not like I often have the time off to fly home for one single night and lousy dinner anyways.”

“That why you leave the country, avoiding your family?” Emily asked with a smirk you couldn’t see and you were quick with the rebuttal.

“I don’t see you itching to get anywhere to bicker over cold potatoes, under seasoned macaroni and overcooked turkey….”

“You’ve got me there.” She replied, earning a small laugh from you. “When was the last time you were home?”

“Years ago.” You groaned, taking a swig of your beer, “I went back the first couple of years after graduating Georgetown. I no longer had the excuse of full time school to focus on and they said they’d pay for my flight and that I deserved a break.”

“Good old fashioned bribery.”

“Exactly.” Your eyes drifted back to the ocean, watching the way the moonlight was sparkling against the water and felt relief wash over you once again, “as soon as I got to the house I was immediately yelled at because the living room wasn’t clean. Like that was somehow my fault? I understand that yeah, I grew up in that house and was staying in my childhood room, but I hadn’t been home in over seven years, I’d like to think you’d qualify as a house guest at that point.”

Emily dryly laughed again and you could feel her fingertips stroking just over your hairline, the touch soothing you, keeping your heart rate down while you reminisced on the not exactly fantastic holidays.

“I had to make sure my room was clean, despite it being half full of storage and no one was going to be seeing it. I’d get woken up at the crack of dawn and coerced into cleaning, prepping food, cooking and told to be better and go faster, this needed to be a successful Christmas after all. Like, I had nothing to do with planning a far too extensive menu and the entire house was my parent’s mess and I certainly didn’t add a single person to the guest list. We’d go over to a cousin’s house for dinner and everything would be coated with dog hair so why was I tasked with dusting the top of the China cabinet that no one would see?” A huff escaped your lips as your shoulders dropped, the sounds of the ocean soothing through you, your breathing beginning to match the pace of the waves and Emily’s fingers tickled at the back of your neck as she began to scoop up the longer pieces of hair. Your lips curved up into a happy grin, your voice softer when you spoke, “why would I want to be anywhere like that when I could be somewhere like here?”

Your hand gently squeezed at Emily’s ankle and she felt the warmth of your touch slowly spreading through her entire body at the sentiment. Sure, it was very possible you were just referring to the expensive over ocean villa complete with endless drinks and food and a view to die for. But there was a piece of her that just knew you were also alluding to the company, the time spent together and how there was no doubt it made for a superior holiday.

She thought about her own time returning home the few years she did and chuckled sorely, “my job very quickly gave me the excuse to not go home, I remember one year I finally could show up so I figured I owed my mother that much. I got there and the house was full of people, more than half that I didn’t even know. I grabbed a drink, some finger food and was practically ignored by everyone, which I guess made sense as most of them didn’t know me and those that did hadn’t seen me in long enough they didn’t recognize me, or maybe it was that they didn’t know how to treat me like an adult. Everyone else around the house was so much more important than me it didn’t seem to matter, half the time my mother wouldn’t even realize I was there until she found me hiding in the kitchen helping with dishes and she’d shove a drink in my hand, shooing me out of there to go mingle.” Emily reached out, grabbing the hair tie off the table, wrapping it around the end of the now finished braid. Her hand slid over it, making sure there weren’t any lumpy bits before she traced your hairline again, pulling out a couple of shorter pieces, twirling them around her fingers and leaving them to frame your face. She leant forward, hands on your shoulders, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head, “you’re done.”

Your hand reached up, squeezing at hers as you stood, half turning back to her, “thanks.” You shot her a smile, scooping up your beer before settling into your own lounger.

While neither of you continued to say anything pertaining to your not so great holidays of the past, you knew that the unspoken words were still there. That this was far more enjoyable than any of the previous ones could have ever imagined. That you would much rather have each other by your side over pretending to celebrate on your own back home, warding off invitations and insistence from friends or coworkers to join them in their festivities.

There was no better place to be than a tropical paradise, a cold beer in your hand and the warm salt air wafting from the ocean directly into your home for the week.

__________________

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That fic you wrote?

The one about the ship no one else cares about, or the deeply unpopular character, or the extremely unusual AU?

The fic that got no comments or kudos when you posted it?

Months or years from now, that fic might be exactly what someone is looking for in the sea of fics about all the popular characters, ships, and AUs.

Your fic might be the only fic out there that has what someone is looking for. The only fic that scratches the itch that it turns out you and that reader share.

And that's awesome.

kate stewart X former doctor's companion!reader? maybe some angst thrown in?

I'll come visit

Pairing: Kate Lethbridge-Stewart x fem!Reader (or gn!Reader)

Word Count: 814

Warning: pure angst, absolutely no comfort

Summary: The Doctor asks you to come amd travel with him again after two years

A/n: I made it very angsty. Like pure angst. Hope that's okay? :/ Hope you like it!! <3 Would love a comment, like or repost. If you'd like something different, don't hesitate to send me another request!!

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Two years. It had been two years since you'd seen the Doctor. Back then she'd been blonde, a bit awkward and a woman. Now he was the complete opposite. Slightly Scottish, Black, an enthusiastic and loud man, seemingly not that much older than you. Colourful clothes, different ones each day and a strangely shaped sonic screwdriver.

But he was still somehow so uniquely the Doctor. And it felt like coming home. The second he stepped out of the Tardis and enveloped you in a hug you felt like no time had passed. Hell went loose as always. But the running, the adrenaline, the fear and uncertainty all felt like coming back to something you'd missed so dearly.

You could see Kate's eyes sadden with each second. She probably knew exactly how this day would end. And it broke her heart, which broke your heart. It had been an amazing year. Wonderfully domestic and normal. But it had become too normal. Sure UNIT had crazy things happen every day. But the feeling of going out into space, travelling through time was something that nothing could ever live up to. And you craved more of it. So badly.

"You should come and travel with me again." The Doctor had yelled across the room, right in the middle of a crisis. In a moment of pure chaos and stress. You simply flashed him a knowing smile and went back to work. Kate's heart sank even further. If she hadn't known before, she knew now. She'd never compare. She'd never hold a candle to the wonders of the Universe. To the wonders of the Doctor.

So after everything had been solved, and you'd helped clean up the headquarters you can feel Kate's stare on you, practically drilling a hole through you. You sigh and turn around, giving her an apologetic smile. That smile was enough to make it abundantly clear to Kate how this day was going to end.

"You'll leave, won't you? Go with him." She said and the hurt in her voice broke you apart. You swallowed hard and leaned back against one of the desks. You looked down at the floor for a moment before looking back up at Kate. Her eyes were slightly glossy, but she'd never let the tears fall. It stung. She'd started to open up to you, allow herself to be vulnerable around you. With hurting her you took that privilege away.

"I'm sorry, Katie." You simply answered. It was answer enough. The nickname a weak try to make the blow hit her less hard. Soothe the pain. It wasn't working. Obviously. She let out a shaky breath, her arms crossed in front of her chest. She looked away, off to the side like she couldn't bare to see your face.

"I'll come visit." You tried, almost like a plead to not lose everything. You couldn't ask her to wait, that was unfair, and you were aware of that. How long would she need to wait? A year? Five? Fifteen?

She turned her head back to look at you. One single tear rolling down her cheek. She wiped it away, almost angry at herself for even showing that much vulnerability. You took a step forward. She didn't back away. A very small success.

"I love you, Kate. Don't question that." You said absolutely sincerely. The pain in her eyes was almost enough for you to not go. But just almost.

"But out there. The wonders of it all." You spoke, voice full of admiration and awe. "It's amazing." Kate knew she couldn't compare to that. She nodded. Almost defeated.

"I know." Another shaky breath.

"I'll come visit." You said again, like you wanted to convince yourself of it. "And you know there'll come a time where I'll stop travelling with him again." Your tone was hopeful. Hopeful that she'd wait. But you'd never ask that of her.

"My door will always be open for you." She said and you doubted she'd wait. She wanted to. You saw it in her eyes. But eventually she'd move on.

"You could come with us." A futile offer. She had a life here. Responsibilities. Children. Work.

"No, I couldn't." She spoke what you'd tried to ignore. You knew she was right. Behind you, you heard the Tardis materialise to pick you up. Your answer had been given hours ago. Gently you kiss Kate. It was a goodbye and you both knew it.

"I'll come visit." You repeated again and ignored the pain in your whole body. Ignored the tears you felt on your own cheeks. Ignored the few tears on her cheeks. She nodded. Before you stepped into the Tardis you turned back around, locked eyes with Kate and blew her a kiss. Then you were gone and Kate stood alone in the barely lit headquarters, tears rolling down her cheeks as the Tardis vanished.

Awww congrats on 200 followers lovely!!! You deserve it, I always find myself rereading your works! So I went to the first section Andromeda, saw prompt #1 “Pull over. Let me drive for awhile.” and thought YES that’s an Emily prompt right there 🤣 I feel like Emily being able to immediately sense reader’s feelings would be super sweet. Like maybe it was rough case/day for reader, Emily steps up, and then starts rambling trying to distract reader so they’re both just laughing and even more in love by the end? Will also read whatever you want to write 🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻

Tysm lovely!!! It amazes me that you reread my fics, I'm so happy you like them🥹!! I changed a tiny bit of this at the end, hope you don't mind <3

Word count: 0.9k

Join my celebration here <3

You’re upset. It’s not hard to see—shoulders rising to your ears, your jaw set, the skin pulled tight over your knuckles as you grip the steering wheel. Add to the lack of your usual easy chatter and Emily’s worried, absently picking at the loose skin around her nail as she tries not to make it too obvious she’s staring.

The case was hard on you. The two of you shared a room this time, so she was more in tune with you than she normally is. She heard the sounds of distress you let out in your sleep almost every night, the way you’d toss and turn on the bed for hours after. Emily didn’t say anything, held back her urge to talk to you about it, but she noticed the restless frustration building in you, the way you poured yourself into the case. 

It ended badly, and you’ve been quiet ever since.

She hadn’t argued when you grabbed the car keys, figuring you’d appreciate the small modicum of control, but it’s been almost half an hour and she’s grown uneasy from your still-tight grip on the wheel. Her eyes flick to your face just in time to see the tick in your clenched jaw.

Before Emily can think about it, the words are out of her mouth. “Pull over,” she says softly, breaking the stillness. “Let me drive for a while.”

You give no indication that you heard her; silence makes her words hang in the air, unanswered. Her worry increases when you don’t protest, simply pulling over and unbuckling your seatbelt. 

Emily gets out of the car and makes her way to the driver’s seat just as you’re getting out. She knows her gaze must be hot on your cheeks, but you don’t look at her. Instead, your gaze tips up, and she follows it.

The one road leading out of town is dark. Apart from the headlights of the car and a few spare street lamps, it’s swathed almost entirely in darkness, and the sky above you is lit up with stars.

“Pretty, aren’t they?” Emily murmurs, desperately trying to draw an answer from your lips.

You hum noncommittally and move past her to get back in the car.

Helplessness crawls up Emily’s throat and settles there like a hard lump. She swallows tightly and gets into the car, briefly unmoored at her reaction to your reaction, unsure why it is that she so desperately wants you to be okay.

The silence is back as she drives off. From the corner of her eye, she sees you rest your head on the window and cross your arms, turning away.

Emily is an expert on body language—she has to be—but this time, she can’t sit and watch you drift away from her, further into your mind.

“Did you recognize any constellations out there?” She blurts out, then winces at the stupid question. 

You’re slow to respond. 

“Think I saw…what was that famous one called? The hunter?”

Relief floods Emily’s veins. “Yeah, Orion.” She nods, turning to get a glimpse of you. Your head is still on the window, but your body is tilted toward hers. Her next breath comes a little easier. “It’s arguably the most recognizable constellation in the Milky Way. It lies on the celestial equator, so it’s visible from both the Northern and Southern Hemispheres.”

“Okay, Reid,” you retort, but the gentleness to your voice tells her you don’t mean any malice. Emily turns and finds a small quirk to your lips; she bites back a smile of her own.

“Yeah, I was a big geek about the stars,” she whispers. Still am. Emily clears her throat. “When I was younger, I used to spend summers in a cabin up in the Alps with my grandfather. He had these huge books about stars and constellations.” You’re quiet next to her, but she sees the way you perk up and shift closer. She never shares her past—or any aspect of her life, really—with anyone, but it’s you, and if it makes you feel even a little bit better, she’ll spell out her whole life’s story for you to hear. 

“The sky was so clear there, it’s insane. I used to draw constellations on the back of my hand and try to search for them in the sky; I spent hours looking up until Grandad called me back. And for each one I’d found, he’d tell me a story.” A wistful smile pulls at her lips. When Emily turns and finds you staring with your head cushioned on your arm, her smile widens.

“Do you want to hear the story of Orion?” She asks softly.

She hears the low whoosh of air as you breathe in, then nod once. “Yeah,” you give her a small smile and warmth spreads all over her body, “I would.”

You’re asleep by the end of it, exhaustion claiming your body, but somehow, at some point, your pinky linked with hers. Both your hands rest on the console now, and Emily looks away from the empty road ahead of her. Your lashes rest on your cheeks, the tense lines of your face relaxing in sleep, and she squeezes your pinky before turning back to the road, her heart somewhat lighter.

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