Emily Requests

Emily Requests <3

I'd be open for Emily requests!! (All with fem or gn reader tho) I've just written my first one, so check that out if you want to see how I write first! <3

It's here

Wtf? This is so great? But broke my heart in ways I didn't know possible? That end? Criminal.

And when I call, you come home — E. Prentiss

warnings: depictions of blood, r has a pretty bad injury (a gunshot), angst, so much angst, no use of yn, technically no death, i’ve never seen snow, idk how it works so this is probably inaccurate, that’s not my problem tho. no happy ending, but whatever happens after the ending is up to you not me mwuahaha

wc: ~1,400

a/n: thank you to the sweetest ever @emilys-bangs for proofreading, shes getting many forehead kisses. i wrote this whilst listening to i know the end by phoebe bridgers. that’s all i’m gonna say.

let me know what you think, pretty please :3 comments, reblogs, and feedback are so super very appreciated!

In any other situation, the sight of snow resting on Emily’s eyelashes and the rosy hue coloring her cheeks would have made you smile. But now, the contrast of pink against Emily’s pale skin was akin to the blood seeping into the snow beneath your thigh.

"Take a deep breath." The words echoed in your mind just before the piercing pain of pressure shot up your leg. You gritted your teeth and inhaled sharply, unsure whether to feel relieved or terrified that your leg had gone numb.

“I’m sorry, ‘m so sorry,” Emily muttered, her voice tight as she tied the sleeve she'd torn from her jacket around your leg, the makeshift tourniquet pulling painfully. Through the haze of agony, you could catch a glimpse of her expression—a flicker of apology behind her determined gaze. A sheen layer of sweat covered your forehead as the last traces of color drained from your face. Your lips quivered in the biting cold, and suddenly, it felt like the tree you were propped against was sinking its teeth into your back.

The sound of blood rushing through your ears made it difficult to discern the sounds around you, but what you could hear was Emily barking desperate commands into her communication device. Your vision blurred, and you could barely make out her crouched form, her hand trembling slightly as it held the sleeve in place.

Your eyelids grew heavier with each blink, and your ragged breaths became slower. In any other situation, Emily might have thought you were simply falling asleep, but she knew better now. She knew you couldn’t. Her cold hands patted your cheeks frantically, the rough texture of her calloused palms scratching at your skin, but you didn’t have the energy to protest.

“Hey! Hey, stay with me,” she urged, her voice taut with fear, her eyes wide as she searched your face for signs of fading consciousness. “Keep your eyes open. Keep ‘em on me.” You tried—God, you tried to keep your focus on her, to cling to the anchor of her presence like you always had. But the pain was loud, the adrenaline had long since drained from your body, and all you wanted to do was succumb to the temptation of sweet relief your brain was offering.

“Hurts like hell,” you mumbled, your trembling hand reaching for her wrist. Your fingers weakly closed around her skin, the pressure barely there, but Emily felt it—she felt you hanging on, even if only by a thread.

“I know, I know,” she soothed, her voice cracking ever so slightly as she leaned closer. “But you’re okay. You’re gonna be okay.” Your grip tightened subtly, a silent gesture. Of what? She couldn’t tell. But in that moment, she took it as a lifeline, clinging to the hope that you were still fighting.

“Where the hell are the medics?!” she shouted into the mic on her wrist, her lips pulling back in a snarl, frustration and fear overtaking her composure. You had spent hours studying Emily's face in quiet moments, memorizing every nuance—the slight crease in her brow, the tiny twitch in her eye. So when you saw those familiar signs of distress, you knew things were bad.

“What is it?” you croaked, forcing the words through your dry throat, fighting to stay conscious. Emily pressed her palm against her forehead, trying desperately to keep it together for your sake. But with your blood seeping into her hands, the icy air cutting through her lungs, and the knowledge that the paramedics couldn’t reach you, she felt like she was on the verge of breaking.

“The roads are icy. The medics... they can’t get to us.” Her voice wavered, betraying the terror she was trying so hard to suppress. You closed your eyes, a silent curse slipping through your cold lips followed by a shiver.

“Okay, here’s what we’re gonna do,” she said, her voice shaking. You looked at her and she looked up at the darkening sky, sending a silent prayer to the one she hadn’t talked to in years. She licked her lips, inhaling deeply as if the cold air could steady her nerves. She looked back down at you, taking in the face she’d memorized over the years. The face she’d walk through hell for.

“They,” She began, her voice betraying the fear that coursed through her. the fear of not being able to do enough for you. “They’re not that far out.” She looked out into the woods, perhaps towards the road? you couldn’t tell. “We can meet them,” She assured, squeezing your hand.

You shook your head, you were more than appreciative for her stubbornness. She never knew when to stop; but, you were tired.

“No..” you shuddered, a faint smile on your lips as if you were trying to ease the hard to swallow pill you were about to shove in her mouth. “I— I can’t feel my leg, Emily.”

Emily’s face dropped and a bitter taste flooded her senses. She had two options, she could either let the fear paralyze her or she could paralyze her fear and save you—It was a no brainer.

She wrapped a hand around your left wrist, tucking her head under your arm. You winced in surprise, your sore muscles pulsing, reacting to her touch.

“Emily—” your protest died on your lips as she hooked her right arm under your non-injured leg, effectively distributing your weight across her shoulders as she stood.

A fireman’s carry, the most basic skill taught and practiced at the academy. A carry executed during sparring sessions and physical tests. A carry that she had associated with giggles and kicks as she used it to get you from her couch to her bed when you’d fall asleep. After years in the field, she’d finally applied it outside of a controlled environment, but as she took heavy-footed steps through the snow she wanted to close her eyes and be back in her living room. She wanted nothing more than for you to throw punches as you giggled and protested to be put down.

Her shoulders dug into your chests and stomach, the feeling making your breath ragged again. You didn’t know how long you’d been walking for, everything had blurred together after the bullet tore through your thigh.

"We're almost there," she promised, her voice steady despite the tremor in her breath. Her fingers dug into your leg, the pressure of her grip grounding you as the wail of sirens screamed in the distance, growing louder with every step she took. The dark stain of your blood seeped through her jacket, a vivid reminder of the weight she carried—not just your body, but the possibility of your life slipping through her hands. Every step was agony, her muscles burning with the strain.

The flashing of red and blue came into view and she could feel tears stinging in her eyes. She could hear Morgan yelling her name, and as his figure got closer she almost yelled at him for being in her way. Her legs gave out under her, and she placed you on the ground as gently as she could. “She’s concious—She’s concious but she’s lost a lot of blood, I—” She rambled, her hands holding yours impossibly tight. The paramedics surrounded the both of you, and Emily was afraid to let go. Afraid that this would be the last time she held you.

She pleaded with the stars above that they would consider her, that for once in her life they’d consider her. She felt you squeeze her hand back and that made her all the more reluctant to let go. But she couldn’t be selfish. she couldn’t do that to you.

“Prentiss! Woah, Prentiss! Let her go, you’ve done enough.” Derek’s voice cut through the haze that had overcome her, His hands enveloping her as she watched the paramedics take over.

Everything else seemed to blur together, is this what it’d been like for you?

After some back and forth with one of the paramedics, she gave in to being checked out. Derek sat next to her as she pulled the thermal blanket closer to herself, the thought of your blood being on her hands—figuratively and literally—made her shiver, though she chalked it up to the cold.

“She’s going to make it, Emily.” Derek voiced, but how could he know? He had no way of knowing, neither did she. She watched the sirens grow distant from the spot where she sat, all she could do was hope she’d done enough for you.

pretty please request for kate/reader, captured together and locked in adjourning cells or something similar. maybe they get treated cruelly, maybe they're just left there🤷🏻

Shared Captivity

Pairing: Kate Lethbridge-Stewart x fem!Reader

Word Count: 1855

Warning: I think none? Used Y/n like once or twice maybe, some insecurities maybe

Summary: Kate and you have been put in neighboring cells after going undercover at an event and being found out. You spend the time talking and finding our some stuff about each other

A/n: Hope you like it!!! I wasn't exactly sure how to end it, so I just went for this. Hope that's okay? Somehow? Would be so happy about a comment, like or repost!!!

■----------------------------------------■

Being held captive had definitely not been how you had imagined your day to go. But here you were, in a dark and dirty cell with a flimsy excuse of a light. You were all alone, though you knew Kate had to be somewhere close. The cell had no windows, nothing to give you any sort of information about neighboring cells or where you even were.

Kate and you had been undercover on a high-class event. It was one of those typical companies that had very suddenly gotten very popular and managed to get their products into nearly every home in Great Britain. And in 99 per cent of the cases that meant problems. Big, big problems. Home invasion kind of problem.

You had originally simply meant to try and gather some intell, but one thing had led to another, and you'd been caught and thrown into cells. Which was where you were now. You were torn between kicking the uncomfortable heels off you'd been wearing and keeping them on as to not stand barefoot on the disgusting cell floor. In the end you chose the latter option and let out a sound of disgust as you felt something wet on the soles of your feet. The hemline of your dress trailed over the dirty floor, and you were already making plans on how you'd burn it later.

You hoped the walls between cells weren't too thick as you knock against the wall loudly. "Kate?" You yelled hoping she was close by and could hear you. You heard some very faint shuffling, clicking of heels and then...

"Y/n?" Kate's voice rang through your cell, a bit muffled by the wall but clear nonetheless. You let out a relieved breath and closed your eyes for a second.

"Yeah, it's me. Are you alright?" You asked a bit concerned. You hadn't been hurt, but that didn't mean she couldn't have been hurt.

"I'm fine. You?" That was good. You both hadn't been hurt. Yet, at least.

"I'm fine." You replied and slid down along the wall until you were sitting on the floor, leaning against the wall. You figured your dress was already ruined, so it really didn't matter anymore.

"You're still wearing your heels." You stated, remembering that you had heard the click on the floor a few minutes back. You heard very quiet chuckling.

"Bloody uncomfortable." Kate replied, and you heard her kick them off and suddenly her voice was much closer to your ear again.

"Don't know why I kept them on." She spoke, her voice sounding a bit clearer. You supposed she had sat down as well.

"Don't sit down! Your suit was so beautiful, you'll ruin it." You protest. It really had been gorgeous. A nice blue, tailored to her body with a white blouse underneath. You hadn't been able to keep your eyes off her.

"Too late." She simply said. It really was a shame about the suit. But you supposed she had enough other ones. And truth be told the suit really wasn't the important thing right now. You were unharmed. Kate was unharmed. That was enough for now.

"The others will know something's wrong if we don't report to them." You said after a few silent moments, probably more to calm yourself down. Kate was trained and more experienced in situations like these. She probably wasn't half as nervous as you.

"They will. And they'll find us." Your happy she indulged you for a moment and simply assured you. No judgment. You had always been a bit more fidgety and nervous about stuff like this. And dark underground rooms, without even a window really didn't sound like things that you'd put on your list of 'Things I absolutely love'.

"What's your favourite colour?" You suddenly asked, it had been the first thing that had come to your mind. You wanted to distract yourself and talk to Kate. And you'd always wanted to know more about her. Though you could have asked a more intelligent question.

"Blue." She simply answered. To be fair, you could have guessed that. Made absolutely sense. For a moment you stay silent again.

"Mine's purple." You said. She hadn't asked. But she was Kate. She'd talk to you about the greatest nonsense and listen to you babble on for hours if it calmed your mind.

So you asked more questions. Unimportant ones. But they took your mind off the matter. You asked her what her favourite book was. The thousand autumns of Jacob de Zoet. You didn't know it, which surprised you not one bit.

You asked about her favourite movie, her favourite musicians and bands, what she did in her free time besides gardening and playing bridge. You asked why she started working at UNIT and why she had become a scientist.

The questions morphed from unimportant and superficial, to personal and intimate to absolutely ridiculous.

"Do you have tattoos?" You asked next. A surprised snort was heard from the other side of the wall. You raised your eyebrows, though of course Kate couldn't see that.

"God, no." She replied finally and that made you laugh.

"You sound awfully negative about the matter." You stated, curious on her take on tattoos. You had a few yourself. Not really visible and all rather small. But you wouldn't be opposed to more.

"I wouldn't mind one with a meaning. For my kids for example. But even that would have to be small and easy to hide. I think they can look good. Just not for me." She explained, ever the polite and supportive Kate. Never to judge people for what they chose to do. It was one of the reasons she was such an incredible boss and head of UNIT. You hummed in response, your head lent back against the cold stonewall.

"Do you? Have tattoos I mean." Kate asked back. You nodded and then remembered she couldn't see you. So you answered.

"I do actually. But not a lot and I can hide them." You thought, but maybe you imagined it, that you heard Kate hum softly. She asked about the tattoos after a moment, and you told her about every one and the story behind it. She just let you speak and after some time you weren't even sure if she was still there. You panicked slightly and stopped talking.

"You still there, Kate?" You spoke, voice just slightly worried. Scenarios of the most horrible things filled your mind for the few seconds that it took Kate to answer.

"I am. Sorry. Your voice is very soothing, and I'm really tired." You felt warmth rise into your cheeks and a stupid smile graze your lips. She liked your voice. But she was right. It was late, and it had been a long day. You couldn't see the sky, but you assumed it was long dark.

"Maybe you should sleep a bit." You offered, tone a bit softer. "I'll stay awake. I'm not tired." A lie. And Kate probably knew that it was a lie. But she didn't comment on it. She simply thanked you, and then you didn't hear her talk for quite some time. Quite frankly you were bored out of your mind. You couldn't watch the stars, not that they'd be visible in London, you didn't have a phone or a book or anything that would be remotely interesting. You didn't even have something to tell the time, so you had no idea how much time had passed since Kate fell asleep.

"Y/n?" A very sleepy voice asked from the other side of the wall. You smiled fondly. "Yeah?" You asked softly.

"Thought you might have fallen asleep as well." She responded and then yawned loud enough for you to hear. You chuckled.

"I promised to stay awake, didn't I?" You sweetly answered, getting simply a hum from Kate as an answer. She was probably still half asleep.

"You know...when we get out of here, we could go to dinner." You said after a few minutes of silence. It was a bit pathetic that the time you finally found the courage to ask was in a cell where you couldn't see her, but at least you asked. As an answer you simply got silence. At least for a few seconds.

"Do you mean that?" The hidden question was clear. Do you really want a date with me? Or is this just a heat of the moment thing 'cause we're captured together. Your answer was as simple as the question.

"Yes."

Silence again. You already expected her to just ignore you and act like it never happened. "Ok." Her voice was soft, nearly hesitant. Again it was silent. You were the one to break it.

"You could wear a dress. I've never seen you in one." You spoke softly. You really never had. Whenever you went with her to any sort of event, like today, she'd worn a suit.

"I bet you'd look amazing." You added after a moment as Kate hadn't yet answered. Your voice was careful but sincere. You were sure Kate would look amazing in a dress.

"You think?" She asked back and sounded uncharacteristically unsure of herself. Smaller and more hesitant. It surprised you.

"'Course. It'd look great. Maybe one that shows off your legs." Silence. You already thought you had said something wrong. Had been too forward, maybe crossed a line. But then she spoke again.

"They're really nothing special. And besides, I've gotten old." Silence again. But simply because you didn't really know what to answer. Was she being for real? Did she actually think that was a problem?

This evening had brought out many truths. From personal and maybe a bit too private questions asked earlier, over your revealed crush on her, to insecurities you had never guessed even existed. But then again, everyone has them. You have them. People you see in the street have them. Why not Kate?

"Are you pulling back out of that dinner?" She asked, voice small and quiet. She nearly sounded afraid that you actually would.

"No, of course not. Don't be ridiculous." You quickly answered and leaned your head back against the stone. "I just guess I hadn't ever thought about the fact that someone as beautiful as you could have insecurities about the way they look." You admitted softly, shrugging more for yourself than anything else. She couldn't see it anyway.

"Thank you." She eventually replied. A bit stronger again, more like the Kate you're used to. You'd gladly remind her of it every day.

It was no surprise that a few hours later when Osgood and the guys had finally found you and gotten you both out of that dirty shithole Kate hugged you a bit longer than usually. It hadn't surprised you either that her cheeks were tinged pink just a tiny bit and when you gave her a kiss on the cheek.

A minute later she was all business again, and you smiled amazed at her ability to slip into the role of the leader so easily.

Andromeda 50 perhaps?

Thank you for requesting <3 this is the prompt “I think you’re beautiful.”

Part of the 200 celebration

Word count: 0.9k

warning: mentions of blood and nosebleeds

The bathroom lights must be harsh on Emily’s eyes. You guess so, because she blinks rapidly, wetness lining her lash line and occasionally dipping outside her eyes, smearing her usually meticulous mascara.

The tissue she’s holding to her nose is already soaked through with red, so you grab another one and gently nudge her hand away. Emily tosses the sodden tissue in the trash, wincing when the fresh one nestles above her cupid’s bow even though you try your hardest to keep your touch light.

“Sorry,” you murmur, your stomach flipping with equal parts nausea and anger. Not at the blood, but at the way her face twists despite her best efforts, one of her hands clenched around the ceramic edge of the sink, her knuckles forming white stars beneath her skin.

And the anger, it rushes restlessly in time with your blood.

You hadn’t been there when the volatile suspect jumped at her in the interrogation room, his fist colliding with her nose because of her provocations. You had been with JJ, trying to calm the restless media that gathered around the precinct, hungry for the identity of the man that tormented their city for weeks. 

Now you only wish you could’ve been there, to repay him the favor yourself.

“S’okay,” Emily mumbles. She leans back against the counter even though you’ve told her to stay upright, but you let it slide. Her fingers take over, holding the tissue gingerly in place, and your own hand falls away.

You can feel her staring as you grab the ice pack you’d gotten her from a first aid kit and pop it, the heat of her gaze steady on your cheeks as cold spreads across your hands. You don’t shy away from her eyes as you gently hold the ice pack to the swollen bridge of her nose.

“Why are you staring?” 

Though it’s meant to sound light and teasing, it isn’t. Your voice is too hushed, your hands too tender as you carefully try to press the ice pack to the bruised skin under her eyes.

Emily finally drops her gaze as she lifts the tissue from her septum. This one is not as soaked with blood, but she still tosses it away and grabs another piece you’d torn out for her. 

“Jus’ waiting for you to run away.” She says, the words muffled into the tissue. Her voice is not the silken honey it usually is; it’s nasal, stuffy as if she’s sick, but it still twists your heart all the same.

“Why would I?” You ask quietly.

Emily’s eyes meet yours again and she shrugs, the fluorescent lights swirling in the depths of endless brown. “’m kinda scary to look at.”

The harsh lights overhead are unforgiving. Everything is thrown into sharp relief; Emily’s swollen nose, her runny mascara and the purple bruising creeping under her eyes. She’s pale from the blood loss, the blues and yellows and purples made all the more clear on her ashy face. There’s blood smeared on her fingertips, seeping through the tissue she’s holding to her nose. Her eyes, wide and hazy with pain, are a little bloodshot, red webbing through the white similarly to lightning.

Scary, the word echoes. Maybe to someone else. 

But not to you.

“I think you’re beautiful.”

It’s immediately noticeable, the red that spreads across her cheeks. Pale skin turns pink and Emily hides again, her eyes leaving yours to latch onto something a lot more interesting on the floor.

“I think,” she mumbles, tossing the almost clean tissue into the trash, “that may be an unpopular opinion at this time.”

You shrug as you lift the ice pack from the bridge of her nose and set it back down on the counter. “I’ve never cared much about what people consider to be popular or unpopular.” Grabbing the last piece of tissue, you wet it and gently swipe the drying blood from the crevices around her nose. Red blooms on the tissue as you wipe her skin clean.

Emily’s breaths come harshly, fanning across your hand in hot clouds. You frown and stop, lifting your hand away.

“Am I hurting you?”

“No.” She rasps. Her mouth drops open and she sucks in a breath, long and deep, “Just can’t breathe very well.”

You chew on your lip. “Do you want some paracetamol? I’ve got some in my bag.” Truthfully, you don’t even know what help it could do, but you feel almost jittery with the need to offer something.

Jerkily, Emily shakes her head. “I’m fine. Thanks. Uh, usually it takes a while b’fore I can breathe again.”

Your brow raises. “So this happened before, then?”

“Hmm.” She hums, the sound brief before she takes in another breath through her open mouth. Grabbing the ice pack from the counter, you slip it into your pocket.

“Come on,” you grab her arm and gently get her to straighten. “It’s better if you sit down, don’t want you toppling over.”

A stuffy huff leaves her lips. “From a nosebleed?” Emily’s voice is teasing as she lets you drag her out of the bathroom. Your hand reaches down for hers and you tangle your fingers together, abruptly making her shut up.

“Yes,” you say, firm as you pull her down the hallway, “from a nosebleed. Got any objections?” You turn to face her.

Emily swallows and shakes her head. 

Yes, even like this she’s unbearably beautiful, a fierceness to her that is entirely at odds with the softness of her hand in yours. The blush on her cheeks still isn’t gone, and when she lightly squeezes your fingertips, you feel a similar one creep up your neck.

“None.”

taglist: @suckerforcate @sickoherd @lextism

her eyes 🥺🥺🥺

she knew

upon hearing the news of emily’s death, you breakdown. rossi is there to comfort you.

pairing: emily prentiss x fem!reader genre: angst, hurt/comfort tags: emily’s “death,” takes place during 6x18, no happy ending really :( word count: 314 a/n: idk just wanted to write some angst for this episode and this is what i came up with lol

When you hear JJ say those seven words, it feels like a knife pierces through your heart and twists until the pain becomes unbearable.

“She never made it off the table.”

You shake your head. “No, JJ, she can’t be—” A small sob leaves your lips. “Are… are you sure?”

JJ nods, her eyes filled with unshed tears. “I’m sure,” she whispers.

“I didn’t—I need to get some air,” you choke out.

You get up from your chair and make a beeline for the exit, avoiding everyone’s eyes as tears stream down your face. You’re not able to make it that far down the hall, though, before a hand gently grasps your arm.

“Let me go,” you beg.

“Tesoro, look at me.”

The sound of Rossi’s voice is all it takes for the dam to break loose. You collapse into his arms and bury your face into his chest, your shoulders heaving with sobs.

“I didn’t—I didn’t get to say goodbye,” you whimper. “Or tell her that—I love her.”

“Trust me, she knew,” he whispers.

You take a step back from his embrace. “You’re not surprised? About us?” you ask, sniffling.

Rossi gives you a sad smile. “Of course not. I’d be a bad profiler if I couldn’t tell that two of my coworkers are dating, don’t you think?”

“Were,” you correct, voice cracking.

He sighs heavily. “Dolcezza, it’ll be okay.”

“But Rossi, I—I don’t know if I can do this without her,” you tell him with a shaky voice.

“You can,” he says firmly. “You’re one of the strongest people I know. And don’t forget, you have the rest of us to lean on when things get too hard.”

You give him a wobbly smile. “I know. Thanks, Rossi,” you whisper.

He reaches out to give your shoulder a gentle squeeze. “No need to thank me, kid. Just remember what I said, okay?”