karen page who’s got a butch wrapped around her finger. big scary guard dog that just melts the second she puts her hands on you. following her like a lost puppy, just so desperate for any form of attention she’ll give you.
and she loves to give you attention. a hand on your arm, fingers slipping between yours, a hand running through your hair, kisses on the cheek that turn into sloppy make-out sessions where you haul her into your lap. you’re absolutely whipped for her and karen is more than aware.
wanting nothing more than to please her, you’re on your knees for her half the time anyways. hardly coming up for air when she’s got you between her thighs, tongue and fingers working her open until she’s crying and squirting into your mouth. not stopping until she’s shoving your head away with desperate whines of overstimulation.
fucking her as much as you possibly can, the two of you insatiable with your desire. one of her favorite things to do is straddle you and have you keep your hands at your side while she fucks herself on you. likes to see how long you can last before you’re a teary, whining mess just begging her to let you touch her.
there are times though, when she fully lets you take over. needs to have her mind emptied and know that she can be safe while doing it. it’s those times where the two of you get completely lost in each other. she’s dripping before you even touch her, thigh rubbing together out of need as she paws at you. soft whines leave her lips as she presses kisses to your jaw. you know what she needs without her having to say it, cupping her face and bringing her in for a sweet kiss.
you’ve got her laid out on the bed, completely bare as you trace your fingers over her skin. she’s trembling and murmuring your name, hands grabbing at you and eyes pleading. you shush her softly, pressing a kiss to her forehead before dipping your fingers in between her legs. she gasps and arches into your touch, hand shooting out to grab your wrist and keep it there.
you’ll reassure her that you’re not going anywhere as you slip your fingers through her folds, brushing against her clit with enough pressure to have her squirming. “big breath, here we go.” you’ll murmur before pressing two fingers inside, her arousal dripping and making the stretch easier. she’ll whimper and cling to you, burying her face in your shoulder as you slowly begin to move.
praising her as your fingers plunge in and out of her pussy, the wetness dripping down your wrist and pooling beneath her. she’s crying now, pleasure overwhelming as her fingernails dig into your skin. you press gentle kisses across her face, capturing her lips and swallowing the moans that are just for you.
you thumb at her clit, delighting in the choked groan you receive from her. karen’s bucking into your hand, chasing a quickly building release as you murmur praises into her ear. with a cry, she’s biting down on your shoulder and cumming over your fingers, hips twitching from the aftershocks.
you guide her through it, telling her how good she did as your fingers slow before stopping completely. with a final kiss to her lips, you’re moving to help her clean up. she’ll whine a bit, body loose and wanting to sleep but eventually relents. you help her gently clean between her legs, giving a mumbled apology when she winces from sensitivity. rubbing her thighs as you kiss across her neck, making your own way up to her lips. wrapping her in your arms, fingers playing with her hair as she drifts off to sleep, placated and safe.
something short and sweet for ya’ll while i work on more posts and inbox responses. need karen so bad it’s not even funny and i don’t see people ever writing for butches. be the change you wanna see in the world ♡
Emily Prentiss x butch!reader
Warnings: SMUT!, a bit fluffy, them being little shits to each other lol, mention of injury and recovery from said injury
WC: 4.2k
Authors Note: This is for you @jayden-prentiss! I hope you enjoy love! Thank you for reading! As you know Cipher is an ongoing series with no real schedule lol. If you want to see something with these two feel free to drop a request <3
“Prove you’re tough,” she’d murmured, her lips barely brushing your temple, her breath warm and her voice thick with something that had nothing to do with teasing. “By letting me take care of you for once.”
You’d replayed those words a dozen times since.
They shouldn’t have hit you the way they did—low in your gut, warm in your chest. But they had. Because no one had ever said something like that to you before. Not like that. Not with that mix of tenderness and challenge that only Emily could pull off.
Now, two weeks later, she was doing exactly that. Taking care of you.
And driving you a little insane in the process.
"Did you just fold my socks?" you called from the couch, raising your voice enough to be heard over the soft hum of music playing from her kitchen.
Emily appeared in the doorway, drying her hands on a dishtowel, her brow arched. "You're welcome."
"You color-coordinated them."
“I’m thorough,” she said, smirking as she crossed the room and tossed the towel onto a nearby chair. “Besides, it gave me something to do while someone insisted they could hobble across the apartment without help and nearly face-planted into the fridge.”
You rolled your eyes. “I was just trying to get water.”
She leaned over the back of the couch, her fingers threading into your hair with practiced ease. “Baby, you looked like a baby deer taking its first steps. A very stubborn deer who thinks she’s invincible.”
You huffed, but the way her nails scratched lightly against your scalp made it hard to stay annoyed. You tilted your head slightly to lean into her touch.
Emily dipped closer, brushing a kiss against your cheek. “Tough doesn’t always mean doing everything yourself.”
“You say that like you don’t live on black coffee and adrenaline.”
“Difference is, I know how to make it look easy,” she whispered, grinning as you turned your head to catch her lips with yours.
It was meant to be a quick kiss—just a press of mouths. But Emily didn’t move. Her hand slid along the side of your neck, thumb stroking the hollow behind your jaw. She kissed you slowly, like she had all the time in the world.
You pulled back slightly, breath caught in your throat. “You keep kissing me like that and I’m gonna forget I had a bullet in my side.”
Emily chuckled, her eyes dipping down your body, lingering at the hem of your tank top where your bandages peeked out. “I’m counting on it.”
You gave her a look, trying not to show how much your pulse had just spiked. “You’re dangerous.”
She shrugged, stepping around the couch and kneeling beside you. “Only to people who don’t know how to pace themselves.”
“You do know I’m the one who usually runs this show, right?” you said, tone casual, but your eyes were already locked on hers.
Emily tilted her head. “And I think we’ve established you’re a terrible patient. So until you’re healed…” Her hand trailed up your thigh. “You follow my lead.”
You swallowed hard, pulse quickening again, but you didn’t object. You wouldn’t. Not when she was looking at you like that.
Not when the ache in your side was fading, replaced by something warmer. Thicker. A heat that had nothing to do with injury and everything to do with the way Emily’s voice dipped low when she got serious, the way her fingers lingered a second longer than they needed to—always so sure of exactly where to touch, exactly what to say.
She could disarm you with a look. And lately, she did it often.
You were used to being the one who took control. Who guided. Who had a hand on the back of a neck, a grip on a thigh, a growl pressed against her throat. It wasn’t about power—it was just how you were wired. You led.
But now?
Now, you couldn’t so much as lift your damn arm over your head without feeling that tight pull at your side. And Emily, infuriatingly, noticed every time. You’d try to push through it—bite back the wince, shift like nothing was wrong—and she’d just give you that look. The one that said, Don’t test me. I see you.
And then she’d kiss your shoulder, or bring you tea without a word, or curl her fingers under your jaw and whisper, “Still trying to act tough? Let me handle it tonight.”
It made your chest tighten in a way that wasn’t pain. It made something twist low in your stomach.
Because you liked it.
Emily leaned in now, her thumb brushing across your lower lip once before she kissed it. Slow. Possessive.
Then, just as easily, she pulled back and stood up like nothing happened—like she hadn’t just rewired your whole nervous system with one kiss. She stretched, grabbed her half-folded laundry from the other armchair, and padded toward the bedroom without another word.
She didn’t even glance back.
You watched her go, jaw tight, your pulse tapping hard beneath your skin.
You wanted her. Wanted to flip her onto the couch. Press her into the mattress. Slide inside her and make her say your name the way she always did.
But your body wouldn’t let you. Not yet.
And Emily knew that.
Which made it worse.
Or maybe better.
Because the way she moved through the apartment now—casual, calm, barefoot in one of your shirts—was full of little taunts. She bent to pick up something from the floor, and you saw the stretch of her thighs through those worn sleep shorts. She tugged her hair up into a messy bun as she walked past again, the line of her neck bare, tempting.
She said nothing. Just smirked faintly when she caught you looking.
And fuck, were you looking.
You shifted on the couch, your side aching just enough to remind you why you hadn’t gotten up to follow her.
She was giving you the space to want her.
Letting the tension build.
And even though it clawed at your pride—because it did—you stayed where you were. Breathing through the ache. Through the want. Letting her have the reins, because she’d earned it.
Because you trusted her.
Because even when she made you feel undone, stripped of control—you’d never felt safer.
—
The next week was torture.
Not because of the pain—it was still there, a dull reminder in your side when you moved too fast or twisted the wrong way—but that wasn’t what nearly broke you.
It was her.
Emily.
She was relentless in the softest, most infuriating ways.
She’d pass behind you in the kitchen and let her hand drag across your lower back, just slow enough to feel possessive. She’d lean over you on the couch, letting her breasts brush against your shoulder as she reached for the remote, lips brushing your ear as she said, “Need this, babe.”
She’d climb into bed beside you at night and curl around you, her hand resting just a breath too high on your thigh, warm and unmoving, her breath steady at the back of your neck like a whisper you couldn’t quite catch.
And she never did anything.
Not really.
Just enough to keep you on edge. Just enough to remind you of what you couldn’t have yet.
It was driving you insane.
Every time you tried to make a move—tried to push her back and take what you wanted—Emily would hush you with a kiss and a smirk, fingers sliding along your side until she found the sore spot and gave it a gentle press. Not to hurt. Just to remind.
Not yet.
You’d groan. She’d kiss your temple and pull you against her, smug and patient, and you’d lie there simmering, too turned on to sleep, too sore to do anything about it.
You didn’t want to be dramatic but…you were gonna die.
By the time your four-week checkup rolled around, you were vibrating with need and tension and frustration.
The doctor poked and prodded with practiced efficiency, reviewing your scans and scarring. You tried not to bounce your leg while she updated her notes.
“So, how’s your pain level?” she asked, not looking up from the chart.
“Manageable,” you said.
“Sleeping?”
“Mostly.”
“Back to normal activity?”
“Some,” you said, then hesitated. “I, uh… I had a question.”
The doctor looked up.
You cleared your throat. “What about—intimacy? Physical stuff. I’m not talking full-on wrestling or anything, just… a little cardio.”
One eyebrow arched. “Are you asking me if you’re allowed to have sex?”
You nodded once, expression flat. “Yes, that. Exactly that.”
She smiled like she’d heard it a hundred times, which she probably had. “Light activity is fine. No aggressive movement, no heavy lifting, and definitely no sudden impact to your left side. But yes. You’re cleared.”
You blinked. “That’s it?”
“That’s it,” she said. “Have fun. Carefully.”
You left the clinic with the medical paperwork tucked under your arm, but the only thing you could think about was the way Emily had looked this morning before she left for work—bare legs, oversized t-shirt, coffee in one hand, grey hair still a little wild from sleep.
You smiled to yourself as you pulled out your phone and opened a new message.
R: cleared.
R: you’re in trouble tonight.
You hit send, heart already beating faster. And for the first time in weeks, the ache in your side didn’t bother you at all.
—
Emily barely had time to set her keys down before you had her.
You caught her by the lapels of her coat and pinned her to the door, kissing her so hard she made a surprised sound against your mouth—half-laugh, half-moan. Her hands instinctively flew to your waist, steadying herself, but you were already there—lips moving with purpose, body pressed to hers like you were trying to make up for all the days you hadn’t been allowed to touch her like this.
“Whoa,” she gasped, breathless and flushed as you finally pulled back just enough to look at her.
You didn’t say anything at first, just rested your forehead against hers, your grin too wide to contain.
Then, between quick, giddy kisses, you said, “Doctor cleared me.”
Emily blinked. “For what?”
You pressed another kiss to her lips, then one to her jaw, your voice low and warm. “Light duty.”
Her brow arched. “Oh, so we’re calling it duty now?”
You groaned, but the laughter was already bubbling in your chest. “You know what I mean.”
Emily grinned and kissed you again—slower this time. “So that’s why I got tackled at the door.”
“I’ve been waiting weeks to put my hands on you again. Weeks,” you murmured, dragging your nose along hers. “But I meant what I said before.”
Emily’s smile softened, her hand sliding up to cup your jaw. “What’s that?”
You leaned in until your lips were almost brushing hers, but didn’t kiss her just yet. “That I trust you. And I want you to take the lead tonight.”
For a moment, Emily didn’t speak.
She just looked at you—eyes darkening, chest rising with a slow inhale—her thumb sweeping gently across your cheek like she was grounding herself in the moment.
“You sure?” she asked quietly.
You nodded, voice rough with sincerity. “Yeah. I want to let go. I want you.”
Emily leaned in, kissed you slow and deep, her fingers threading into your hair. When she finally pulled back, she was smiling—mischievous, warm, and completely in control.
“Well,” she said, her voice dropping a little, “in that case... I guess I better make it worth the wait.”
You shivered, every nerve ending on alert.
Emily's lips brushed your ear as she added, barely above a whisper, “But if anything hurts—or doesn’t feel good—you tell me. We stop. No hesitation, got it?”
Your breath caught, and you nodded. “Got it.”
She kissed you again, feather-light and reverent this time. “I’m gonna take such good care of you.”
And the way she said it made your knees go weak.
Emily didn’t let go of your hand as she led you through the apartment, her fingers threaded tightly with yours, thumb stroking the back of your knuckles. You followed close behind, trailing kisses to her shoulder, her neck, the edge of her jaw—too hungry to keep your hands off her, too content to rush anything.
She laughed under her breath when you nearly tripped over your own feet trying to kiss her and walk at the same time.
“Careful, tiger,” she murmured, glancing back at you with a glint in her eye. “Doctor said light duty. Not concussion duty.”
You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help smiling. “Your fault. You’re distracting.”
“Oh, so it’s my fault you can’t stop kissing me?”
“Yup,” you said, tugging her closer until her back met your chest. You pressed your mouth to the soft patch of skin just beneath her ear and whispered, “You’re lucky I’m still not cleared to throw you on the bed.”
Emily chuckled—low and wicked—and turned in your arms, her grey hair loose and slightly mussed from your roaming fingers. She framed your face in her hands and kissed you again, slower this time. Like you were both finally letting yourselves feel the full weight of this—of the tension that had built for weeks, of the comfort you’d found in each other, of the ridiculous, surprising fact that somehow, you’d both fallen hard.
The bedroom was dimly lit. Emily moved with ease, guiding you backward until the backs of your legs hit the mattress. You went willingly, letting her press you down onto the bed.
She climbed over you, like she was settling into familiar ground. Her hands braced on either side of your head, her hips hovering just above yours, her eyes locked with yours in that way that made the whole world go quiet.
“You good?” she asked again, voice softer now. She brushed a strand of hair from your forehead, her fingers tender and warm.
You nodded. “I’m perfect.”
Emily smiled—genuinely, beautifully—and kissed you again. And when she did, you could feel it: all of it. Her control, her affection, her care. The love that was just beginning to grow roots, new and heady and a little terrifying.
But it felt so damn good.
She didn’t rush. She moved methodically, peeling off your clothes with the kind of attention that made your skin burn. Her fingers lingered at the hem of your shirt, and she helped you out of it with practiced hands, mindful of your injury without making it a thing.
And God, she looked so good doing it. Her grey hair fell loose around her face, her eyes sharp and dark as they traced over your body like she was studying you—not just for pleasure. Like she got it. Like she knew exactly who you were and wanted you anyway—wanted all of you.
“You’re staring,” you said, your voice caught somewhere between breathless and teasing.
“I know,” Emily said, completely unbothered, her palm pressing gently over your heart, feeling the steady beat beneath her hand as the other stroked through the strands of hair at your nape. “You’re so handsome.
You blushed and rolled your eyes, but she just leaned down and kissed the corner of your mouth.
“You really don’t know how sexy you are, do you?” she murmured against your skin. “Tough, bossy, stubborn as hell—but right now? Letting me take care of you? That might be the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.”
You huffed out a laugh, half-flustered and half-ready to beg. “If you don’t kiss me in the next five seconds, I’m switching positions.”
Emily smirked. “Oh? As if you could.” She cocked an eyebrow. “Doctor said light duty, remember?”
You huffed out a breathless sound, half-laugh, half-moan. “You’ve been tormenting me for a week.”
Her nose nudged against your cheek. “Not torment,” she whispered, soft and wicked. “Just anticipation.”
Her fingers slipped lower, tracing the inside of your thigh with maddening slowness. Up, then down again. Like she was weighing how far to push you—how much more you could take.
“Fuck,” you groaned, shifting beneath her. “Stop teasing.”
Emily only smiled, her mouth finding your throat as she nipped you gently—just enough to make you twitch. Then she leaned back, laughing when you whined.
“Fine,” you grumbled, “I’ll stop being a brat.”
You tried to tug her back down to you, but she caught your wrist, pushed you firmly back into the mattress.
“My show,” she said and rolled her hips into yours—not enough to relieve the ache, just enough to pin you there. To remind you who was in charge tonight.
Then she paused.
Looked at you.
Your eyes met hers, and everything around you disappeared except for the heat in her gaze and the soft weight of her body above yours.
“I want to watch you fall apart,” she said. “Slow. Gentle. No pressure. Just… me and you.”
Your throat worked around a tight swallow, and your chest lifted with a deep, shaking breath.
Then her hand dipped beneath the waistband of your boxers. And she found you wet and already aching for her.
“God,” she murmured, pressing a kiss just beneath your ear. “You’re so ready for me.”
The sound that escaped your throat was raw—a gasp torn straight from your chest. Emily's fingers were slick with your arousal as she circled your clit with maddening precision. The pace was slow, unrushed, and it took every ounce of your restraint not to grab her wrist and guide her exactly where you needed her most.
Her eyes sparkled like she could read every thought in your head. “Breathe, baby. Do you trust me?”
You nodded, exhaling shakily.
Her fingers dipped lower—two slipping inside you with practiced ease. You gasped, sinking deeper into the bed, your walls fluttering around her in response.
She leaned forward, capturing your mouth with hers, swallowing your moans before she pulled back slightly.
“You’re so easy to read like this,” she murmured, her nose brushing your cheek as her hand moved again—deeper, more certain. “Strong, composed all day, and now you’re trembling for me.”
You gasped again when she found your g-spot, and she smiled against your jaw, her voice warm silk edged with heat. “You like giving this up, don’t you? Letting me take over. Letting yourself feel.”
Your hips twitched, your body arching into her. Words failed you. All you could offer was the sound of your breath hitching and the way your heart pounded beneath her palm.
She pressed her hand firmly to your chest, her thumb brushing just beneath the swell of your breast while her fingers maintained that devastating rhythm between your legs. It was all heat and pressure, and it wrapped around you, climbed up your spine, until you were unraveling in her hands.
It never took long with Emily. She was a slow burn that always ended in a blaze. You took in every detail of her—that infuriatingly smug smile, her long lashes, the way she bit her bottom lip in concentration. You loved her, and it was all too much in the best way.
“Emily,” you moaned, clenching tight around her fingers as the orgasm overtook you, swift and shuddering.
“Fuck, you’re so good for me,” she whispered, guiding you gently through it, holding you close while your body trembled with aftershocks.
Wrapped in her arms, you were giddy, boneless, and entirely undone. Everything felt brighter, clearer, warmer—especially after needing her like this for so long.
“I’ve got you,” she said again, her lips brushing the corner of your mouth, then lower—along your jaw, down the column of your throat. “You don’t have to do a thing but stay right here.”
And with her still wrapped around you, her touch steady and grounding, you did.
But as the last tremors faded, your fingers brushed over her forearm, then down to her hip. You turned your head, kissing the underside of her jaw with a soft sigh. “Let me take care of you now.”
Emily raised an eyebrow, amused and clearly still basking in the glow of having just unraveled you. “You sure you’re up for that, tough girl?”
You smirked, rolling carefully to your side and letting your hand slide along the curve of her thigh. “Consider it light duty.”
She chuckled, eyes darkening
Then she leaned in, her hand pressing gently over your abdomen, fingers grazing the edge of your healing scar. Her expression shifted into something tender, searching.
"Are you in pain?" she asked softly, brushing a few strands of hair from your face.
You shook your head, cupping her cheek. "No. I'm okay. You don’t have to worry."
She held your gaze a moment longer, as if making absolutely sure—and then you leaned back onto the bed with a slow smile, your voice low and warm. "Now get up here and sit on my face."
Emily blinked, then laughed—really laughed—eyes sparkling as she climbed up, knees framing your shoulders. “You’re lucky I love that mouth. But I set the pace tonight,” she added with a smirk, settling over you with deliberate control. “We go as slow as I say.”
She hovered just above you, teasing, her breath catching as your hands slid up the backs of her thighs, guiding her closer. You kissed along her pale inner thighs, lips dragging across soft skin, taking your time as you worshipped your way upward. Every kiss a silent promise that you were hers tonight, completely.
She exhaled shakily, her fingers curling against the headboard as she finally settled down, her weight sinking onto you with a low, shuddering sigh that sent a thrill straight through you.
Her eyes never left yours. There was fire there—intensity and affection woven together—like she forgot how good it felt to let go like this, to give herself to you so fully.
You moaned beneath her, reveling in the soft, wet heat of her pussy, savoring the way her body trembled in response to every flick of your tongue, every purposeful shift of pressure. Her hips rolled slow at first, testing the rhythm, finding her pace—and you met it with confidence, guiding her with the steadiness she had shown you so many nights before.
She whimpered softly, her thighs flexing around your head, her fingers digging into the wood above you as you suckled her clit gently, then harder. She gasped your name, a desperate, breathless sound, and it lit something deep inside you.
“Fuck,” she muttered, her voice rough with need, “Missed this.”
You couldn't speak—not like this—but your answering groan vibrated through her, making her cry out again, her fingers clenching against the headboard. Her head dropped forward, hair falling in a curtain around her face as she looked down at you, cheeks flushed, lips parted.
The taste of her, the way she ground against your mouth, the soft, breaking sounds she made—it was overwhelming in the best way.
“Please. Fuck. Don’t stop.”
You wouldn’t dream of it. Not when she was unraveling so beautifully above you. Every soft gasp and broken moan was a reward you’d never tire of earning.
Her hips grounded harder onto your tongue—using you as vessel to get pleasure. You knew she was getting close. You gripped her ass, quickening her pace and her hips stuttered as her pleasure built. Still you knew what she needed and she knew as her eyes locked with your own.
She moved your other free hand to her clit, jolting forward with the touch. She focused your finger.
“Fuck, just like that,” she groaned, her voice cracking on the edge of a gasp. “Right there—fuck, baby. Don’t stop.”
Her head fell back, long gray strands tumbling over her shoulders as she cried out, thighs trembling around your face. Her entire body began to shake, and you felt her muscles start to seize with pleasure. Her hand lost its grip on the headboard and dropped to your hair instead, clutching at the roots.
You moaned into her, the vibrations her undoing as a cry broke from her. Her hips bucked, riding the crashing wave. You held her tight, steadying her above you--pride blooming in your chest as you watched her breasts swaying with the effort to catch her breath.
When she finally settled, her body went soft and heavy against you. You kissed her slick thighs, your hands stroking up and down them, holding her close. You could’ve stayed there under her forever.
Eventually, Emily shifted with a laugh, breathless and flushed as she slipped back, crawling down beside you on the bed. Her legs tangled with yours, one arm slinging loosely around your waist.
“You always this greedy?” she teased, brushing a damp strand of hair off your forehead.
You gave a low hum, smirking. “Only with you.”
She chuckled, curling into your side, head resting just over your heart. “I think I just saw God.”
You grinned, wrapping your arm around her and pulling her in tighter. “Then I did my job.”
She nuzzled into your neck, lips brushing your collarbone as she laughed, and you both shook with it—an uncontainable joy that filled the space between you.
Emily Prentiss x butch!reader
Warnings: Fluff, Smut!, mention of injury
WC: 2.4k
Authors Note: This is for you anon! Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoy! As you know Cipher is an ongoing series with no real schedule lol. If you want to see something with these two feel free to drop a request <3
The halls of Quantico hadn’t changed—but you had. You adjusted the strap of your bag on your shoulder, your steps measured as you moved toward the Cyber Crimes Unit. The place you belonged. The place where everything had started to unravel—and where you were now determined to rebuild.
Your heart thudded steadily in your chest as you paused outside the frosted glass doors bearing your nameplate. Section Chief Y/L/N. You hadn't seen it in over a month. The last time you'd walked out of this office, you were leading a takedown that ended with you bleeding out on a concrete floor. Now, you were walking back in, whole—but not unchanged.
The second you opened the door, the hum of tech and conversation fell into a hush. Monitors lit the dim room in glows of blue and green, casting long shadows across tired faces and desks cluttered with cables and coffee cups. But all eyes were on you.
“Boss,” Maldonado greeted, rising from his desk with a lopsided grin. “Tried to keep your seat warm, but no one can match the scowl.”
You gave him a sharp look—but it softened instantly into a smirk. “That why you’ve got the back cushion on my chair?”
He held up his hands in mock surrender. “Medical necessity. Not all of us are made of concrete and sarcasm.”
A few chuckles rose from the rest of the unit. You caught several lingering glances—some relieved, others protective, all familiar. These were your people. They’d held down the fort while you were gone. And now, they were ready to follow you again.
You tossed your jacket over your chair, ignoring the stubborn twinge in your side as you lowered yourself into the seat. You weren’t at one hundred percent—not quite—but close enough to fake it. And you were too damn stubborn to wait any longer.
Emily would have something to say about that. She had said something, more than once. Just last night, curled up beside you with her head on your chest, she’d traced a slow line across your ribs and murmured, “You better not go in there trying to play hero. If I find out you’re throwing yourself back into work before you’re ready, I’m cuffing you to the bed—and not in the fun way.”
You’d laughed, kissed her temple, and promised to be careful.
But she knew you too well.
And as you settled into your chair, pretending not to notice the stiffness in your side, you could practically hear her voice in your head—equal parts exasperation and fondness—“God, you're so bad at resting. Try not to break anything on your first day back.”
You smirked to yourself.
“Alright,” you said, clapping your hands once. “Let’s talk about this new case.”
And just like that, the room snapped back into motion. Your team slipped easily into the rhythm of your leadership, falling into step like no time had passed. You led the briefing with clipped efficiency—voice low, tone firm, brain sharp as ever. The hacker in question was younger, sloppier, but reckless enough to be dangerous. You ran down the profile, the activity patterns, the entry points he’d exploited in federal servers.
But somewhere between assigning trace tasks and reviewing metadata strings, your thoughts drifted. Just for a second.
You wondered what Emily was doing.
She’d texted that morning. Something simple. "Proud of you already. I’ll swing by later." You could still feel the warmth in your chest from reading it. Emily wasn’t the kind of woman who texted fluff. But when she said something, it meant everything.
You blinked, shook off the thought, and re-centered. You had a case to run.
—
Hours passed. The team flowed like they always had under your command—solid, precise, loyal. Maldonado ran a brilliant sting operation on a burner line, two junior agents followed up on trace logs, and you had your hands reviewing your team’s parsing of a string of SQL injections linked to three offshore shell accounts.
You were enjoying being back with your team. You found the easy rhythm of being in their quarters, sitting on a small chair on a computer dedicated for when you came out your official office to work with them.
And as if your chest couldn’t warm any more you felt the shift in the room that gave her away. A strange, synchronized awareness that someone had walked in. Someone important.
You looked up—and there she was.
Emily, standing in the doorway of your unit like she had every right to be there. (And she kind of did.) Her burgundy trench coat was slung over one arm, dark blouse open at the collar, and a sleek travel thermos in her other hand.
You raised an eyebrow, that signature swagger in your step—the one you only ever pulled out for her—as you crossed the room with confidence. Emily’s eyes flicked down your frame and back up, just a little too slow to be innocent.
“You get lost, Prentiss?” you asked, voice teasing.
She smirked, but the way her lips parted for a second before answering told you everything. She wasn’t lost—just momentarily distracted by the sight of you looking every bit the cocky, composed butch she couldn’t get enough of.
She shrugged. “Thought I’d make sure the Section Chief didn’t pass out on her first day back.”
The thermos landed on your desk with a soft thunk. “Not that I don’t trust your team,” she added, eyes flicking toward Maldonado, “but I’ve seen what passes for coffee around here.”
Maldonado smirked. “You wound me.”
Emily’s gaze shifted back to you, warming. “He’ll recover.”
You took the thermos, fingers brushing hers. Her touch lingered for a beat too long, her eyes scanning your face like she was making sure you were really okay. You gave her a slight nod—one she read easily.
“I’m fine,” you murmured.
She leaned in slightly, her voice dropping so only you could hear. “It’s ok mon coeur if you’re not.”
Before you could respond, Maldonado stepped forward, arms crossed casually, though there was a familiar gleam in his eye. “Emily. You can come in all the way, you know. We don’t bite.”
Emily blinked, but walked in fully, slipping seamlessly into the room’s rhythm.
“Good to see you all,” she offered with that cool, composed tone she wore like armor. But when she looked at you again, her lips twitched.
“Don’t worry,” Maldonado said, nodding toward you. “She’s already yelled at me once. We’re back to normal.”
“That quick?” Emily teased.
Maldonado gave a dramatic sigh. “Feels like she never left.”
You shook your head, sipping from the thermos. Of course it was Emily’s coffee—your favorite roast, with just enough bite to match her own taste. You didn’t have to ask. She just knew.
The moment stretched—comfortable. Familiar. And more than a few of your agents gave each other quiet looks.
“You know,” Maldonado said after a pause, eyeing you with a knowing smirk. “Emily’s been different since you got hurt.”
Emily raised an eyebrow. “Different?”
“Laughing more. Smiling. Cracking bad jokes at crime scenes.”
“I do not crack bad jokes.”
Maldonado leaned on your desk, stage-whispering, “She quoted Star Trek last week. JJ and Tara almost passed out.”
Emily glared at him, but there was no heat behind it. Just a faint flush that rose to her cheeks.
You tilted your head, amused. “Are you softening, Agent Prentiss?”
She gave you a tight-lipped smile. “Only for the right reasons.”
Your team chuckled, returning to their screens with sly grins, but they didn’t miss the way Emily’s fingers brushed yours again as she leaned in.
“Join me for drinks on Friday? Your team too?” she whispered. “My team’s asking for you. Don’t make me drag you there.”
“I’ll be there,” you said softly. “Promise.”
She gave your hand a final squeeze and stepped back.
“Don’t overdo it today,” she said, more firmly now. “I know you, and I know that look in your eye.”
You arched a brow. “What look?”
“The one that means you’re pretending you're not in pain.” She winked. “I’ll see you tonight.”
And just like that, she was gone—leaving only the thermos on your desk and the warm flush that rose to your neck in her wake.
—
By the time night came around, you retreated to your office, reading through the last of the reports and signing off on them. Maldonado gave you one last nod before heading out, but not without pausing in the doorway. “You know,” he called over his shoulder, “I still remember the day you two nearly tore each other’s throats out over jurisdiction on that first joint case.”
There was no need for a name. You gave him a dry look, your lip twitching. “Yeah, well. Growth.”
He snorted. “Sure. Growth. Or maybe Prentiss is just the only one stubborn enough to keep up with you.”
Before you could respond, another voice cut in from the hall.
“She does tend to wear people down,” Emily said smoothly, stepping into view. Her smirk was sharp, her coat slung over her shoulder like she owned the place. “Eventually, you give in. Or get steamrolled.”
You sat back in your chair, arms crossing over your chest as you tried—unsuccessfully—not to grin.
“You’re lucky I like you now.” Emily said.
Maldonado glanced between you both with a knowing shake of his head. “God, it’s worse now. I liked it better when you were just arguing all the time.”
Emily raised an eyebrow. “We still argue.”
“Yeah, but now it ends with you two making goo-goo eyes across the tactical reports,” he muttered, turning to go. “Goodnight, lovebirds.”
You waited until his footsteps faded and the floor cleared, then looked back at Emily.
She was already at your desk, standing close enough that the edges of her trench brushed your knee. Her eyes scanned your face, pausing briefly at your shoulder, then trailing lower to your side—as if she could still see the injury beneath your clothes.
"You held up okay today?" she asked, voice softer now. It wasn’t just concern—it was that quiet protectiveness she reserved only for you.
You nodded. “Tired, but... yeah. Being back felt good.”
She smiled, but didn’t say anything else. Just reached out and ran her fingers along your jaw, tilting your face gently toward her. You let her. You always did.
“You sure you’re not just pretending to be fine so I don’t hover?” she asked, the pads of her fingers brushing just under your ear.
You raised an eyebrow. “Would it work if I was?”
Emily leaned in until her lips nearly brushed yours. “Not a chance.”
Your mouth curved into a half-smirk before you caught her bottom lip between yours, kissing her slow. She tasted like the dark roast she’d brought you earlier and the faintest hint of peppermint.
Her hand reached for you, but before she could guide the kiss deeper, you took the lead. You tangled a hand in her grey hair and tilted her head back, claiming her mouth with purpose—all control and heat. She moaned against you, and the sound went straight to your core.
You broke the kiss just long enough to rise from your chair, your frame towering over hers as you stepped in. She instinctively backed up, her hands bunching in the front of your button-down, until her hips bumped against your desk.
You didn’t stop.
“You miss me?” you asked, voice low as your hand found her hip and pulled her in tighter. Your mouth brushed along the line of her jaw, then lower, teasing her pulse point with the barest scrape of your teeth.
She hummed, the sound breathy. “That obvious?”
“To me? Always.” You kissed just below her ear, grinning when you felt her legs tighten around your thigh, her body already reacting to the pressure you knew she wanted.
Your hands were firm—one braced against the desk beside her, the other sliding slowly beneath her trench, over the silk of her blouse. You reached the waistband of her pants, teasing your fingertips just beneath, where the heat of her center pulsed against your thigh. Her breath hitched, she clung to your shoulders, but you remained solid.
“You’re soaked,” you murmured, lips brushing the shell of her ear. “All this just for me pretty girl?”
Emily gasped, barely managing a nod. “You—fuck—you always do this to me.”
“I know,” you said, voice like velvet. “And I love watching you fall apart.”
You pressed your thigh higher between her legs and rolled your hips just once. She shuddered, her lips parting in a desperate moan as she clung to you tighter.
“Fuck,” she whispered, trying to catch her breath, already on the verge.
You leaned in, kissing her again—deep and possessive, your fingers curling around the back of her neck, keeping her right where you wanted her. She whimpered into your mouth, hips rolling in slow, helpless movements against your leg.
But just as her muscles started to tense, just as her moans grew higher and breathier—you stopped.
Emily blinked up at you, dazed, lips wet and red. Her eyes flickered with confusion and frustration.
“Don’t,” she begged softly.
But you stepped back, deliberately slow, licking her taste from your fingers with a smug moan.
“Easy,” you said, voice rough but steady. “You’re not coming just yet pretty girl.”
She stared at you, panting, her body still trembling. “You’re such a fucking tease.”
You leaned in, brushing your lips over hers in a whisper of a kiss. “And you love it.”
Emily let out a low, frustrated laugh and dropped her head against your chest, still catching her breath.
“I swear to God,” she muttered.
You tilted her chin up again, meeting her flushed, clouded gaze. “Let me take you home,” you said, more a command than a request. “I’ll ruin you the way you deserve.”
She groaned. “Then stop talking and get your keys.”
You grabbed your jacket, still watching the way she tried to smooth herself out, lips swollen, blouse a little askew. She looked completely fucked-out, and you hadn’t even really touched her yet.
“Next time,” she muttered under her breath as she walked ahead, still flushed and breathless, “I’m not letting you stop.”
You caught up to her easily, your smirk lazy and full of promise. “Cute that you think you’re in charge.”
She shot you a look over her shoulder, but the spark in her eyes said she didn’t mind one bit.
As you stepped into the quiet hallway beside her, your hand slid to the small of her back—firm, possessive—your fingers dipping just beneath the hem of her blouse. You leaned in close, your voice low against her ear. “Next time, I’m not letting you walk out still shaking.”
Emily Prentiss x butch!reader
Warnings: Fluff, Smut!, oral sex, strap-on
WC: 4.1k
Authors Note: Well well well I'm back on my smut bull lol. I see my Cipher girlies out there so thought I would do a nice update for the story.
A month had passed since everything—the chaos, the recovery, the long nights where painkillers dulled the ache but never the nightmares. A month of Emily balancing work and watching over you, of quiet mornings spent trading sarcastic quips over coffee and soft glances when you thought the other wasn’t looking.
Tonight, though, none of that mattered. Because tonight was your date. A real one, the kind you’d promised when you could finally stand without wincing. And you’d planned it perfectly.
The Natural History Museum stood grand and quiet under the city lights, its neoclassical columns bathed in a golden glow. You parked the car with the ease of someone who preferred manual transmission and certainty, glancing at Emily with a satisfied smirk. She hadn’t realized where you were taking her until you pulled onto the street, and the flicker of surprise on her face had been worth every moment of planning.
Her dark eyes, sharp and calculating at work, softened as she took in the sight. “You remembered,” she murmured, almost to herself.
You glanced at her, the woman who led teams with a voice that brokered no argument, now staring at a museum like a kid on Christmas morning. “Of course I remembered. You talk about this place like it’s a pilgrimage site.”
Emily chuckled, shaking her head, but she didn’t deny it.
You liked seeing her like this—unguarded, lips curling into a smile she didn’t have to hide behind. She was radiant, wearing dark jeans that hugged her hips just right and a black coat that made her look effortlessly cool. Still, you caught the peek of a navy sweater underneath—the same one she wore when she worked from home, when she was soft and warm and entirely yours.
You, in contrast, had leaned into your usual style: clean lines, structured clothes that didn’t need embellishment to make a statement. Dark jeans, a crisp button-up with the sleeves rolled just enough to show your forearms, and the well-worn leather jacket Emily never admitted to liking but always found an excuse to run her fingers over when you hugged her.
Inside, the museum was quieter than you expected. Soft lighting bathed the exhibits, casting shadows that made the ancient relics feel almost alive. The first gallery held towering dinosaur skeletons, their prehistoric forms looming over glass cases of fossils. Emily’s pace slowed as she looked up at a massive sauropod, her lips parting in quiet awe.
“I always loved the idea of deep time,” she said, almost to herself. “How these creatures existed long before humans ever took a step. It’s humbling.”
You watched her, not the fossils. The way her brows lifted slightly in wonder, how her fingers brushed absently against the strap of her purse as though grounding herself. Emily, the woman who could dismantle an unsub’s alibi with surgical precision, was standing here, starry-eyed over a dinosaur skeleton.
“You’re such a nerd,” you teased, bumping her shoulder with yours.
Emily didn’t look away from the fossil. “You like that about me.”
You grinned. “Guilty as charged.”
Further in, the crowds thinned, leaving the two of you in relative solitude. You moved through the exhibits at an unhurried pace, Emily stopping now and then to read plaques aloud—like you couldn’t read for yourself, but you didn’t stop her. You liked the sound of her voice when she wasn’t trying to be in control.
In the mineral gallery, the light shifted to something softer, almost ethereal. Ancient crystals sparkled under glass, casting fragmented rainbows across the floor. Emily stepped into one of the pools of light, her gray hair catching the glow, and for a moment, you forgot how to breathe.
“You’re staring,” she teased, not looking up from a cluster of quartz.
“Can you blame me?” you shot back, voice low and steady. “I’m looking at the rarest gem in the room.”
That earned you a laugh, warm and genuine, the kind she only let slip when she felt truly safe.
You stepped closer, the heels of your boots scuffing lightly against the polished floor. “You know,” you murmured, “when you first mentioned this place, I thought you were just humoring me. Another ‘fun fact’ from the encyclopedia that is Emily Prentiss.”
She finally looked at you, her gaze softening. “And now?”
“Now I get it.” You reached out, fingers brushing hers. “It’s not just the history. It’s that everything here has survived—storms, extinction, time itself. It’s resilient. Kind of like you.”
Emily blinked, her walls slipping just enough for you to see the woman beneath—the one who loved fiercely but struggled to accept that same tenderness in return.
“You’re such a sap,” she muttered, though her hand found yours and squeezed.
“Only for you,” you replied, voice softer now, more sincere.
You walked through the remaining exhibits hand in hand, her fingers warm and sure in yours. There was no rush, no urgency—just two people finding peace in a place built to honor survival. And, in a way, wasn’t that what you’d both done? Survived. Found each other in the wreckage.
By the time you stepped outside, the city had settled into quiet. Emily leaned against the museum’s stone railing, her gaze drifting toward the stars barely visible through the city’s glow.
“Thank you,” she said finally, turning to look at you.
“For what?”
“For remembering. For knowing me better than I sometimes know myself.” She hesitated, then added, “For making me feel… seen.”
You stepped closer, your hand finding its natural place on her waist. “That’s what partners do, Emily. We see each other. And we make damn sure the other never forgets how much they matter.”
Her smile was soft, almost shy—so unlike the Emily the world knew. But you knew this version, the one who geeked out over ancient history and leaned into you when she needed warmth.
“Take me home?” she asked quietly.
“Always,” you murmured, pressing a kiss to her temple before guiding her toward the car.
And as you drove through the sleeping city, her hand resting comfortably on your thigh, you realized that tonight wasn’t just a date. It was a reminder—that love, like the fossils she admired, could endure anything. It just needed the right people to uncover it.
—
The drive home was quiet, the air thick with something more than contentment—something warm, unspoken, and inevitable. Emily's hand rested on your thigh, her thumb tracing slow, absentminded circles over the rough fabric of your jeans. Neither of you spoke, but the silence wasn't empty. It was filled with anticipation, with the weight of knowing what came next.
When you pulled into her parking spot, she didn’t move right away. Instead, she turned to you, her dark eyes soft but intent. “Come inside?” she asked quietly, though you both knew it wasn’t really a question.
You nodded, squeezing her hand. “Lead the way.”
The house was dimly lit when you stepped inside, the faint glow from the kitchen lamp casting long shadows across the hardwood floor. Emily set her bag down by the door, her movements slower, more deliberate than usual. You followed her into the living room, but when she turned to face you, something shifted. The air thickened, and the teasing, playful energy from earlier gave way to something deeper.
“You really listened,” she murmured, brushing her fingers along the collar of your leather jacket. “About the museum. About everything.”
You caught her hand, holding it against your chest. “Of course I did. You deserve someone who remembers the little things.”
Emily’s lips parted, but no words came. Instead, she leaned in, her mouth finding yours with a tenderness that stole your breath. This wasn’t the rushed, desperate kind of kiss you’d shared after long cases or late nights. This was slow, purposeful—like she was tasting the truth of what you’d just said.
Her hands slid up your chest, fingers curling into the fabric of your shirt as she pressed closer. You let her take the lead for a moment, savoring the warmth of her body against yours, the familiar scent of her shampoo—lavender and something faintly musky, like worn leather and home.
But then, you shifted. Your hands found her waist, steady and sure as you guided her backward, step by step, until her back hit the edge of the couch. She smiled against your lips, amused but not resisting.
“Bedroom,” you murmured, voice low and certain. “I want to take my time with you.”
Emily’s breath hitched, her eyes darkening. “Yeah,” she whispered, threading her fingers through yours and pulling you down the hallway.
Once inside, the room softened around you—lit only by the glow of the lamp on her nightstand. The bed, unmade from the morning rush, felt inviting rather than messy.
You reached for the buttons of her coat, slowly peeling it away from her shoulders. Her sweater followed, revealing the smooth curve of her collarbone and the steady rise and fall of her chest. Your gaze lingered, drinking her in.
“I love you,” you murmured, fingers brushing along her jaw before you leaned in to kiss her again.
Emily smiled into the kiss, her hands already tugging at the hem of your shirt. “Flattery will get you everywhere,” she teased, but her voice was softer now, almost shy.
“Good,” you replied, pulling back just enough to strip off your jacket and shirt in one fluid motion. You stood there for a moment, watching the way her gaze drifted over you, her pupils dilating as she took in your strong shoulders, the defined lines of your arms.
Emily stepped closer, her hand resting flat against your chest, just over your heart. “You always look like you’re in control,” she murmured, her thumb brushing lightly over your skin. “But it’s different now. You’re… softer.”
You caught her hand, kissing her palm. “Soft doesn’t mean less,” you said quietly. “It means I trust you.”
That seemed to break something in her. She pulled you into another kiss, deeper this time, more insistent. You didn’t rush. Instead, you guided her toward the bed, hands steady at her waist, letting her set the pace until the backs of her knees hit the mattress.
Emily sat down, pulling you with her until you were standing between her legs. Her hands found your belt, fingers working deftly to unbuckle it, but you caught her wrists, halting her movements.
“Not yet,” you murmured, shaking your head. “Tonight’s about you.”
Her breath caught, and you didn’t give her a chance to protest. You leaned down, kissing along the curve of her neck, the hollow of her throat, the soft slope of her shoulder. With every touch, she melted further into you, her body pliant and eager beneath your hands.
Emily’s breath hitched as you eased her back onto the bed, your lips tracing the delicate line of her jaw. Her skin was warm under your touch, and the slow thrum of her pulse beneath your fingertips made your own heartbeat quicken.
"Lie back," you murmured against her neck, the command softened by the kiss you pressed just below her ear. "Let me take care of you."
Emily didn’t argue. She never did when you got like this—steady, in control, your confidence something she’d come to crave as much as the pleasure you always delivered. You watched her settle into the pillows, the soft glow of the bedside lamp casting shadows across the curve of her breasts and the smooth lines of her stomach.
You took your time, trailing kisses down her chest, your tongue flicking briefly over her collarbone before moving lower. Her breath stuttered as you brushed your lips across the swell of her breasts, teasing her nipples into stiff peaks with the faintest graze of your teeth. Emily arched into you, her fingers curling into the sheets as she silently urged you on.
"Patience," you chided, looking up at her with a teasing grin. "I’m not rushing this."
Her eyes darkened, and she bit her lip, but she nodded. She always did when you took control like this—surrendering the weight of the world to you, even if only for a little while.
Sliding further down, you traced the ridges of her abdomen with the tip of your tongue, savoring the way her muscles tensed beneath your touch. By the time you reached the waistband of her jeans, Emily was already shifting, trying to angle her hips toward you, seeking more friction than your teasing kisses offered.
"Up," you ordered softly, your hands sliding under her hips to lift them as you tugged her jeans down. She complied without hesitation, raising herself just enough for you to strip her bare, leaving her flushed and exposed beneath you.
You paused for a moment, just taking her in. Emily—always composed, always in control—was now spread out for you, her chest rising and falling with shallow breaths, her thighs already glistening in the soft light.
"Fuck, Emily," you muttered, voice rough with desire. "You’re perfect."
Her cheeks flushed deeper, but the corner of her mouth lifted in a faint smirk. "Then stop staring and do something about it."
You didn’t need to be told twice.
You settled between her legs, your broad shoulders keeping her thighs parted as you pressed a kiss to the inside of her knee. Slowly, you worked your way up, trailing open-mouthed kisses along the soft skin of her inner thigh, letting your teeth scrape lightly just to feel her shiver beneath you.
"You're already so wet," you murmured, brushing your thumb along her slick folds, spreading the evidence of her arousal. Emily gasped, her hips jerking instinctively, but you held her steady with a firm grip on her hips.
"Please," she whispered, voice breaking on the word.
"Patience," you reminded her again, though your own restraint was fraying.
Finally, you leaned in, your breath hot against her as you pressed the first soft kiss to her clit. Emily’s entire body tensed, her fingers flying to your hair, gripping tightly as if anchoring herself.
"That's it," you murmured, the vibration of your words making her moan. "Let go for me."
You flattened your tongue, dragging it slowly up her slit, savoring the taste of her—warm, salty, utterly intoxicating. Emily cried out, thighs trembling around your head as you circled her clit with deliberate, measured strokes. You didn’t rush. You never rushed with her.
Her breathing grew ragged as you switched between slow, broad licks and tighter, more focused flicks against that sensitive bundle of nerves. When her hips lifted off the bed, you pressed her back down with strong hands, holding her in place as you worked her open.
"Y/N," she gasped, voice breaking as you sucked her clit into your mouth, your tongue teasing the sensitive tip. "I can’t—fuck, I’m close."
"Not yet," you muttered against her, the words muffled by the slick heat of her. You wanted to draw this out, to watch her unravel piece by piece until she had nothing left but your name on her lips.
You slid two fingers inside her without warning, curling them upward until you found that spot that made her entire body jolt. Emily’s grip on your hair tightened, her thighs clamping briefly around your head before falling open again, completely at your mercy.
"Please," she whimpered, her voice raw and desperate. "Please, Y/N. Let me come."
You looked up, catching her gaze. Her pupils were blown wide, her face flushed, hair falling in wild waves around her head. Beautiful. Utterly undone.
"Come for me," you ordered softly, your fingers moving faster, your tongue relentless against her clit.
That was all it took.
Emily shattered beneath you, her back arching off the bed as her orgasm ripped through her. Her thighs trembled violently, her breath catching in her throat before she finally let out a low, broken moan that made your own core clench in response. You didn’t stop, not until her hips bucked away from the overstimulation, forcing you to ease up.
You pressed one last kiss to her clit before sliding up her body, your fingers still buried inside her, feeling every aftershock ripple through her.
“Fuck,” she panted, eyes fluttering open to meet yours. You smirked, brushing damp hair back from her flushed face. Emily laughed breathlessly, pulling you down for a kiss that tasted like her own release. Her legs wrapped around your waist, holding you close as she murmured against your lips, “I want to ride you.”
But you didn’t move. Not yet. You wanted to memorize her like this—soft, open, and entirely yours. And when she finally flipped you onto your back, you slipped your fingers from her—determination burning in her eyes as she reached for the harness in the nightstand.
She pulled the drawer open without breaking eye contact. The cool leather of the harness caught the soft light from the bedside lamp, and her lips curved into a slow, knowing smile.
"Stay right there," she murmured, voice husky with satisfaction and hunger. She sat back on her heels, straddling your hips, her bare skin flushed and glistening. The sight alone was enough to make your breath catch.
“I’m not going anywhere,” you rasped, propping yourself up on your elbows as you watched her work. There was something undeniably intoxicating about the way Emily moved—graceful, deliberate, always in control, except for the moments when you pushed her past reason. But now? Now, she was the one setting the pace, and you were more than willing to let her.
She fastened the harness around your hips, tightening the straps with practiced ease. The sight of her nimble fingers adjusting the buckles sent a spark of heat straight through you, anticipation curling low in your belly. You reached up, brushing your thumb across her cheek, and she leaned into the touch for just a moment before her gaze darkened once more.
“You ready for me?” she teased, her tone playful but threaded with sincerity.
“Always,” you murmured, voice rough. “Take what you need, Em.”
That was all the invitation she needed. Emily leaned down, her lips brushing yours in a kiss that was slow and purposeful, her body pressing flush against yours as the harness settled perfectly between you. You could feel the warmth of her slick folds brushing against the length of the strap, her breath hitching as she rocked her hips experimentally.
"Fuck," she whispered, eyes fluttering shut for a moment. "I can already tell this is going to ruin me."
"That’s the idea," you shot back, hands finding her hips, guiding her movements with firm, steady pressure.
Emily chuckled breathlessly, then sat up, bracing herself with one hand on your chest. With the other, she reached down, positioning herself above you. The head of the strap teased her entrance, and she bit her lip, savoring the moment as she slowly began to sink down.
You watched every inch disappear inside her, mesmerized by the way her body stretched to accommodate you, the way her mouth fell open in a silent gasp as the fullness hit her. Your grip on her hips tightened, grounding her, steadying her.
“Fuck, Emily," you muttered, your voice nearly breaking as she took you deeper, inch by agonizing inch. "You look fucking perfect like this."
Emily’s breath hitched, and her hands flew to your shoulders, nails digging in just enough to make you hiss. "God," she whispered, voice shaking as she bottomed out, hips flush against yours. "So full…"
"Take your time," you rasped, resisting the urge to thrust up into her heat. "I’m not rushing you."
But Emily didn’t need time. She adjusted quickly, her body already attuned to yours after months of slow exploration and stolen moments. Her hips rolled in a lazy circle, testing the stretch, and her eyes fluttered shut as pleasure flickered across her face.
"Fuck, Y/N," she gasped, her voice breaking on your name. "You feel… so good.”
You couldn’t hold back any longer. One hand slid up her back, fingers spreading wide as you pressed her closer. The other stayed firm on her hip, guiding her as she began to move—slow, deliberate strokes that left both of you gasping.
"Look at me," you ordered softly, your voice firm but laced with affection.
Emily’s eyes snapped open, pupils blown wide, cheeks flushed. She held your gaze as she found her rhythm, each roll of her hips sending a fresh wave of heat crashing through you both. The sound of skin meeting skin filled the room, punctuated by her breathless moans and your quiet, reverent murmurs.
"You’re so fucking beautiful like this," you muttered, thumb brushing across her hipbone. "Taking me so well. Like you were made for it."
Emily’s lips parted, but no words came—just a soft, broken whimper as she ground down harder, chasing her pleasure with single-minded focus. You met each movement with an upward thrust, your restraint unraveling as the heat between you built to an almost unbearable intensity.
Her fingers tangled in your hair, pulling you into a kiss that was all teeth and desperation, her body tightening around you as she rode the edge. You could feel her thighs trembling beneath your hands, her breath coming in sharp, uneven gasps.
"Y/N," she panted, her voice shaking. "I’m so close. Don’t stop."
You growled, tightening your grip and driving up into her with deliberate precision. Each thrust hit that perfect spot inside her, and you could see the moment she lost control—her eyes squeezing shut, her mouth falling open in a silent cry as pleasure overtook her.
"Come for me," you urged, voice rough with need. "Let go."
And she did.
Her entire body went taut, her back arching as her orgasm ripped through her, the muscles in her thighs trembling violently as she rode out the waves. Her breath caught in her throat before breaking into a low, shattered moan that sent a fresh surge of heat through you.
"Fuck," she whispered, collapsing onto your chest, her body still fluttering around the strap buried deep inside her. Her breath came in ragged gasps, skin flushed and damp as she melted into you, completely undone.
But you weren’t finished.
"Emily," you murmured, voice thick with need. Your hands found her hips again, holding her steady as you rolled your own upward, just enough to make her gasp and jolt against you. "I'm not done."
Her eyes fluttered open, glazed and dazed, but that familiar spark reignited the moment she registered your intent. A slow, wicked smile curled across her lips.
"Still so damn cocky," she teased, her voice hoarse from moaning your name. "You want yours now?"
You grinned, eyes dark with hunger. "You gonna give it to me?"
Emily didn’t answer—not with words, anyway. She pushed herself up, muscles trembling but determination burning in her gaze. Her hands flattened against your chest, nails scraping lightly over your skin as she shifted her hips, grinding down slowly, deliberately, making sure you felt every inch of her slick heat against the base of the strap.
Your breath caught, hips jerking instinctively as the harness rubbed against your clit, the pressure just right. "Jesus, Em."
"That's it," she murmured, leaning down to brush her lips against your jaw, her breath hot and teasing. "Let me see you fall apart, tough girl."
You groaned, the words hitting you almost as hard as the way she moved—rolling her hips in slow, deliberate circles, the strap hitting just right with every motion. The friction against your clit was relentless, building quickly, too quickly, but fuck, you didn’t care. Not when she was looking at you like that—like you were the only thing in the world worth worshipping.
"You're so fucking gorgeous like this," Emily rasped the perfect echo, a mirror of the love you gave. Her hands sliding up your breasts, thumbs brushing your nipples. "Strong. In control. But right now? You’re mine."
Her words were your undoing.
"Fuck," you choked out, head falling back against the pillows as the coil of heat in your core snapped. Pleasure crashed over you in waves, sharp and consuming, stealing your breath as your body tensed and trembled beneath her.
Emily didn’t stop. She rode you through it, her grip firm on your hips as she ground down, watching every flicker of ecstasy cross your face.
"That's it," she whispered, voice rough with awe. "Let go for me, baby. I’ve got you."
And you did—completely, utterly, with nothing held back. When the tremors finally subsided, you collapsed against the mattress, breathless and wrecked, heart pounding wildly in your chest.
Emily leaned down, pressing a tender kiss to your lips, soft and lingering. "Worth the wait?" she teased, her smile lazy and satisfied.
You chuckled, voice rough. "Hell yes."
"Good," she murmured, brushing damp hair back from your forehead. "Because I’m not done with you yet."
And as she leaned in for another kiss, you realized you’d never been more willing to surrender.
Emily Prentiss x butch!reader
Warnings: kidnapping, torture, shooting, regular CM stuff, fluff, someone on the team probably winning a bet
WC: 6.7k
Authors Note: Again thank you for being on this ride with mommy prentiss and reader! There will definitely be a pt.4 to this and maybe more beyond as they grow together. Let me know if these long stories are better than the shorter one, I'm testing this length. Enjoy! <3
The conference room hummed with quiet focus as you stood at the head of the table, presenting the finalized mission plan to your team. Maps, photos, and surveillance logs were spread across the table, and the projector cast the unsub’s image onto the far wall.
“This guy thrives in chaos,” you said, pointing to the screen. “Our target, Joseph Raines, has been moving from city to city, hacking into private systems, stealing identities, and selling classified data to the highest bidder. He’s been a ghost for years, but his ego’s catching up with him. He got sloppy with his most recent job, and that’s how we found him.”
Your team nodded, their expressions serious as they absorbed the details.
“We’ll move in phases,” you continued. “Phase one is the sting—lure him into believing he’s found another mark. Phase two, we intercept and apprehend him before he can disappear again.”
“And if something goes wrong?” one of your agents asked, frowning slightly.
Your lips curved into a small, reassuring smile. “We adapt, like always. But if we do this right, nothing will go wrong.”
The confidence in your voice set a determined energy in the room, and soon the team was dispersing to prepare for the operation.
Yet as you lingered in the now-empty room, collecting your notes and double-checking the timeline, a flicker of unease settled in your chest. You’d handled dangerous cases before—cases where things could go sideways in an instant—but something about this one felt… off.
You hesitated, gripping the edge of the table, and for a moment, you allowed yourself to think about Emily.
She would have hated sitting out on this one. You could almost hear her voice in your head, sharp and decisive, poking holes in every facet of the plan until it was airtight. Emily never left a single stone unturned, and if she were here, you’d already feel that edge of calm she always seemed to bring to chaos. Her insights would have been invaluable, and you couldn’t help but wish the BAU had jurisdiction on this case.
But it wasn’t just her skills you missed.
Your mind wandered to the way her lips quirked when she caught you overthinking, her teasing remarks always pulling you back when you were in too deep. You thought of the way her hand brushed yours the last time you’d sat together in a budget meeting, the spark so quick and subtle that no one else would have noticed—but you did.
The ache in your chest deepened, and you shook your head, forcing yourself to focus. Now wasn’t the time for that. This case demanded your full attention, and the last thing you needed was to let your feelings distract you.
Still, you couldn’t help but whisper under your breath, “Emily would’ve caught that unease too.”
With a deep breath, you straightened, filing the stray thoughts away. Your team was capable, and you trusted them implicitly. This was your case, your plan, and you’d see it through.
But the thought lingered as you left the room—a quiet, nagging wish that she were here, not just as a colleague, but as something more.
***
The sting went smoothly at first. Your team worked like a well-oiled machine, with agents positioned strategically throughout the target area. The unsub’s digital movements were being tracked in real-time, and your bait had worked—Raines was making his way to the meet-up point.
You stood near the command vehicle, monitoring the operation through the live feed on your tablet. Everything was going according to plan.
“Target is approaching the rendezvous,” one of your agents said through the comms.
“Stay sharp,” you replied, your voice calm but firm. “No one makes a move until I give the signal.”
You watched as Raines arrived at the meet-up point, his body language cautious but confident. He exchanged a briefcase with your undercover agent, and the transaction appeared to be complete.
“Team, move in,” you ordered.
The takedown was flawless, almost too easy. Raines didn’t even have a chance to process what was happening before he was surrounded. Your team moved like clockwork—sharp, focused, executing the plan to perfection. You felt a surge of pride watching them in action, every piece of your meticulous strategy falling into place.
Raines hit the ground, his hands already in the air as two of your agents secured him. Relief swelled in your chest as you stood back, observing the scene with a sharp eye. You told yourself this was the moment to breathe—to let the tension of the mission ebb away—but something in the pit of your stomach didn’t sit right.
Your instincts prickled, a faint hum of unease that you couldn’t quite shake. Raines wasn’t panicked. He wasn’t angry. He looked…calm. His lips quirked into something that could only be described as smug, like he knew something you didn’t.
Your fingers tightened around the grip of your firearm as the team moved to secure him in the transport vehicle.
“Keep your eyes open,” you instructed your team over the comms, your voice steady but low. “Something doesn’t feel right.”
The radio crackled with acknowledgments, and you scanned the area again, your pulse quickening. The city street was eerily quiet—too quiet. No curious onlookers, no traffic. Just the sound of your team moving and the distant rustle of leaves in the wind.
And then it happened.
The van came out of nowhere, screeching around the corner at breakneck speed. Time seemed to slow as it skidded to a halt in front of the transport vehicle. The doors burst open, and armed men poured out, shouting commands as chaos erupted.
Gunfire rang out, sharp and deafening, cutting through the stillness. Your training kicked in instantly as you dropped behind the cover of the transport, adrenaline flooding your veins.
“Ambush!” you shouted into the comms. “Fall back and hold your positions!”
Bullets pinged off the metal frame of the transport as you returned fire, your heart pounding in your chest. You barked orders to your team, your voice clear and authoritative, but beneath the surface, fear gnawed at you. This wasn’t just a random attack. This was planned. Coordinated.
Your eyes scanned the chaos, and then you saw him—Raines, being dragged toward the van by two of the armed men. His expression was triumphant, his smugness now making perfect sense.
“No!” you shouted, breaking cover before you even realized what you were doing.
“Hold your position!” one of your agents yelled after you.
Your mind was singularly focused on Raines, your body moving on instinct. You sprinted toward him, weaving through the chaos as bullets whizzed past. You weren’t going to let him slip away—not after everything.
You closed the distance quickly, taking down one of the men with a well-placed shot. The other turned, aiming at you, but you were faster, disarming him with a brutal strike to his wrist before knocking him to the ground.
Raines stumbled in the commotion, and for a brief moment, you thought you had him. But then the world tilted.
Something hit you hard from behind—a sharp, blinding pain exploding at the base of your skull. The ground rushed up to meet you, and your knees buckled as you fell forward. The sounds of the fight grew distant, muffled, like you were underwater. Your vision blurred, the edges of the world dissolving into darkness.
Through the haze, you saw Raines standing over you, his face a mixture of triumph and contempt. He crouched down, close enough that you could hear his low, mocking laugh.
“Better luck next time,” he sneered, his voice the last thing you heard before the blackness swallowed you whole.
***
“Emily?” JJ’s voice was hesitant as she approached the office, her expression carefully neutral but her eyes betraying a flicker of unease.
Emily glanced up from the paperwork spread across her desk, a small frown creasing her brow. “Hey Jayje, what’s up?”
JJ hesitated, crossing her arms as if bracing herself. “It’s… Y/N’s team,” she said carefully.
Something about JJ’s tone made Emily’s stomach tighten. She put down her pen, giving JJ her full attention. “What about them?”
“They were ambushed during a takedown.” JJ’s words hung heavily in the air as she continued, her gaze dropping briefly to the floor. “She’s been taken.”
For a moment, Emily simply stared, the words refusing to make sense in her mind. Taken. The term felt too clinical, too detached to encompass the storm it unleashed inside her.
“What?” she said, her voice sharp and disbelieving. Her heart began to race, thudding painfully in her chest.
JJ stepped forward, keeping her voice steady. “Joseph Raines. He’s still at large, and he has her. Her team’s shaken, but they’ve requested our help to get her back.”
The air seemed to leave the room all at once, and Emily’s hands instinctively gripped the edge of her desk. Her mind flashed with fragmented images: you, confident and steady, standing at the head of a briefing room; your teasing smirk when you’d poked at her in meetings; the way your touch lingered just a moment too long when no one else was looking. All those moments now felt fragile, fleeting, as if they were slipping through her fingers.
She didn’t realize she was standing until her chair scraped against the floor. “Where was her last known location?” Emily’s voice was clipped, but beneath it, there was an unmistakable edge of fear.
JJ hesitated again, knowing how close the two of you had become but not wanting to push. “The convoy was hit on the outskirts of Richmond. We’ve got some satellite data and witness reports coming in, but it’s sketchy. Her team’s regrouping at the field office now.”
Emily didn’t let her finish. She was already moving, grabbing her go-bag from beside the desk, her body running on autopilot while her mind spun wildly. Fear, frustration, and a sharp pang of something she didn’t want to name clawed at her chest.
“Emily—” JJ started, but Emily cut her off, her voice steely.
“We’re going. Now.”
As she strode past JJ, the tightness in her throat threatened to choke her. She couldn’t let herself think too deeply about what this meant—what it meant for you, for her, for the tenuous thread you’d both been walking between professional and personal. But the truth was already clawing its way to the surface, relentless and unavoidable.
You weren’t just another agent. You weren’t just another name on a case file.
The feelings Emily had been so careful to compartmentalize—to keep hidden behind quips and stolen glances—were now impossible to ignore. The idea of you being out there, in danger, possibly hurt, made the ground feel unsteady beneath her feet.
As she made her way to the bullpen, the team was already gathering, sensing the urgency radiating from her. Rossi and Luke discussed tactical options. Tara and Penelope exchanged a grim look but said nothing as they fell into step behind her.
JJ followed, her expression soft but watchful. “Emily, we’ll find her.”
“We have to,” Emily said. Her hand tightened on the strap of her go-bag as she looked at JJ, her dark eyes burning with something raw. “I’m not losing her.”
The words came out before she could stop them, but they felt true in a way that made her chest ache. This wasn’t just about a colleague or a friend. This was about you.
Emily didn’t know what she would do when she saw you again, but one thing was clear—she couldn’t let herself lose you. Not now. Not ever.
***
The BAU team gathered in the briefing room, the usual hum of activity replaced with a tense, almost suffocating silence. Emily paced in front of the board, her every movement sharp, purposeful—but beneath the surface, the turmoil was barely contained.
“Joseph Raines,” she began, pinning his photo to the board with more force than necessary. “Cybercriminal, identity thief, and now a kidnapper. He ambushed her team during a sting operation and took her.” Her voice wavered slightly, but she caught herself, gripping the marker in her hand tighter. “We don’t know why yet, but it’s likely she’s being used as leverage—or worse, as a message.”
JJ exchanged a glance with Rossi, concern etched across her features. “Do we have any indication of his next move?”
“Not yet,” Penelope chimed in, her fingers flying over the keyboard at her station. “But I’m working on it. I’ve already hacked into his known associates’ communications, pulled up past hideouts, and I’m combing through any financial transactions he’s made in the last six months. If he’s anywhere in their network, I’ll find him.”
Emily nodded, though her jaw remained clenched. “Good. Keep digging. We don’t have time to waste. Raines is unpredictable, and we don’t know what he’s planning. The longer she’s with him…” She trailed off, her throat tightening, and she quickly turned back to the board to regain her composure.
“The greater the risk,” Rossi finished for her, his tone steady but filled with an unspoken understanding.
Tara leaned forward in her chair, scanning the reports in front of her. “Did the cyber team give any specifics about how the ambush went down? Anything unusual about Raines’ behavior?”
Emily shook her head, her hand hovering over the map pinned beside Raines’ photo. “It was chaos. He had a team, well-coordinated and heavily armed. They knew exactly when and where to strike. This wasn’t a spur-of-the-moment decision—this was planned.”
Luke frowned, leaning back in his chair. “That means he’s been watching her. Watching her team. He could’ve had eyes on them for weeks, maybe longer.”
The thought made Emily’s stomach churn. She turned toward Penelope. “Focus on surveillance footage near the takedown site. Check traffic cameras, storefronts, anything that could give us a vehicle ID or a direction they went. He had to leave a trail somewhere.”
“I’m on it, boss lady,” Penelope said, her voice unusually subdued as she typed furiously.
Rossi’s calm but commanding voice broke the brief silence that followed. “We need to approach this from all angles. This isn’t just about finding her—it’s about understanding why Raines took her specifically. What does he gain by keeping her alive? What does he want?”
Emily’s hand tightened around the marker until her knuckles turned white. She forced herself to take a breath, to keep her focus sharp. “Raines thrives on control. If she’s alive, it’s because he needs her for something—information, leverage, power. But if we don’t move fast, he’ll realize she’s more trouble than she’s worth.”
There was a heaviness in her words that hung over the room, unspoken fears settling in everyone’s minds.
“She’s strong,” JJ said gently, her voice cutting through the tension. “If anyone can handle this, it’s her.”
Emily nodded but didn’t respond, her gaze fixed on Raines’ photo. The thought of you alone, in danger, at the mercy of someone like him—it was enough to make her chest ache.
Her pacing stopped abruptly, and she turned to face the team. “We’re going to bring her back,” she said, her voice steady but fierce. “No matter what it takes.”
And for the first time since JJ had broken the news, Emily felt the faintest flicker of hope. You were out there, fighting, holding on. And she would do the same—she wouldn’t stop until she brought you home.
***
The world around you was dark and silent, save for the faint hum of distant machinery and the rhythmic drip of water somewhere nearby. You were conscious of the ache in your head and the stiffness in your shoulders, but the bigger weight—the one pressing on your chest—was the uncertainty of what was happening outside this room.
Bound to a chair, you leaned your head back against the cold metal and closed your eyes for a moment, willing your breathing to steady. You’d been through worse, you reminded yourself. The key was to stay calm, keep your mind sharp, and wait for your opening. But it wasn’t fear or doubt clouding your mind this time. It was Emily.
You could see her so clearly, the sharp lines of her face softening when she smiled, the way her laugh managed to feel like both a surprise and a comfort every single time. You thought of how she carried herself, confident and steady, and how even her quiet moments felt charged with something electric, something magnetic.
Emily made you feel… seen. That was the truth of it. She didn’t just look at you; she saw through you. Past the walls you’d carefully built, the professional mask you wore to keep things under control. She saw the raw, messy, vulnerable parts of you—the parts no one else had ever bothered to notice. And she didn’t flinch.
The two of you may not have always worked well together, but you’d worked on things since the last case. The push and pull, the playful barbs, the fleeting moments together. The thing you had now took you by surprise, it was something you couldn’t ignore anymore you realized sitting in the dim cold room. All this time, you’d been so careful to keep things professional, to keep her at arm’s length because you’d convinced yourself it was easier that way. But sitting here now, with no way of knowing if you’d see her again, the truth felt undeniable: you’d been lying to yourself.
You cared about her. Not just as a friend, but in the kind of way that made your chest ache with wanting. You cared about the way she pulled her hair into that tight ponytail when she was deep in thought. You cared about the way her voice softened when she spoke to Penelope, and the way it sharpened when she was delivering orders in the field. You cared about the way she made you want to be better—not for her approval, but because being around her made you believe you could be.
The sound of a door creaking open pulled you out of your thoughts, and you tensed as heavy footsteps approached. Raines’ smirking face appeared in the dim light, his satisfaction evident as he looked down at you.
“Still hanging in there?” he drawled, circling you slowly. “I have to admit, I’m impressed. Most people crack faster than this.”
You didn’t respond, your eyes narrowing as you tracked his movements.
He crouched in front of you, his smirk widening. “You must be wondering what happens next. Don’t worry—I’ll make sure it’s memorable.”
His words barely registered, your mind already turning over escape possibilities. But beneath that cold, calculated focus, a quieter thought lingered: maybe Emily will find me. She’d never let you down before, and you knew she wouldn’t start now.
***
The hum of the jet engines filled the cabin, the familiar noise doing little to settle Emily’s nerves. She sat at the edge of her seat, scanning the case files spread across the table. Photos of Joseph Raines, maps of the sting location, and surveillance notes were all meticulously laid out, but none of it gave her the answers she needed.
JJ sat across from her, her expression a careful mix of concern and determination. “We’ll meet with her team as soon as we land,” she said. “They’ll have more details about the ambush.”
Emily nodded, her jaw tightening. “I just don’t understand how it happened. She doesn’t make mistakes like this.”
“She didn’t,” Rossi interjected calmly. “This wasn’t about her making a mistake—it was about Raines outplaying the situation. We’ll find her, Emily.”
Emily nodded again but didn’t respond. Her eyes remained fixed on the photo of Raines pinned to the board in front of her. The man’s smirking face made her stomach churn.
“Penelope,” she said, glancing over at their tech analyst, who was sitting with her laptop open, furiously typing away, “do we have anything yet on Raines’ movements?”
“Nothing solid yet,” Penelope admitted, not looking up. “But I’ve tapped into every resource I can think of. If there’s a digital trail, I’ll find it.”
Emily’s hands curled into fists on the table. “Keep digging. He’s hiding somewhere, and we need to find him before it’s too late.”
The team exchanged glances but didn’t push her further. They all knew how close she was to the edge right now.
When the jet touched down, the BAU wasted no time. They were met on the tarmac by two of your agents, Maldonado and Ramirez, who looked as exhausted as Emily felt.
“Thank you for coming,” Maldonado said, shaking Emily’s hand. “We’ve set up a command center at the field office. We’ll debrief you there.”
“Let’s go,” Emily said sharply, motioning for her team to follow.
At the field office, the tension was palpable. Your team had taken a heavy blow, and the weight of your absence hung over the room. Maps of the ambush site and surrounding areas covered the walls, and agents were poring over surveillance footage, trying to piece together Raines’ escape route.
Maldonado led Emily and her team to the center of the room, where he pulled up a digital map on a large screen. “This is where the ambush happened,” he said, pointing to a spot on the map. “They came out of nowhere—four vehicles boxed in the convoy, and heavily armed men swarmed us.”
“And she?” Emily asked, her voice tight.
“She went after Raines,” Maldonado said, his expression pained. “We tried to stop her, but she didn’t hesitate. Took down two of his men before they blindsided her. By the time we fought them off, she was gone.”
Emily clenched her jaw, her stomach twisting. She could picture it so clearly—your fearless determination, the way you never hesitated to put yourself on the line for your team.
“She always pushes herself too hard,” Ramirez added quietly, her gaze flicking to Emily. “But she trusts you. If anyone can find her, it’s you.”
Emily’s breath caught, but she quickly forced herself to focus. “Do we have anything on the vehicles?” she asked.
“Some partial plates,” Maldonado replied, pulling up footage. “We’ve traced them to a rental company, but the trail goes cold after that.”
“Penelope?” Emily asked, turning to the tech analyst.
“I’m already on it,” Penelope said, her fingers flying over the keyboard. “If they rented those vehicles, there’s a digital trail somewhere, and I’ll find it.”
Emily nodded, her mind racing. “Rossi, JJ, Tara—start profiling Raines and his network. We need to figure out where he might have taken her. Luke, work with their team to reanalyze the ambush footage. There’s something we’re missing.”
The teams got to work, blending seamlessly as they shared resources and expertise. Emily hovered near the command center, her eyes scanning the map and notes on the wall, her mind replaying every moment that had led them here.
“She talked about you,” Maldonado said quietly, stepping up beside her.
Emily glanced at him, startled. “What?”
“She doesn’t open up much,” Maldonado admitted, his voice low, almost reverent. “But when she did, it was usually about you. She never says it outright, but… we all knew how much you meant to her. You could see it in the way she’d light up whenever your name came up. She’s been through a lot, you know. More than any of us realize. But she trusts you. She’s never let anyone in like that before.”
Emily swallowed hard, her throat suddenly tight. She felt a weight in her chest, the words sinking deep. She hadn’t realized how much you had kept to yourself, how much you had held back. She remembered the scars, both visible and invisible, the quiet moments where you’d withdrawn after past injuries—physical and emotional—had threatened to break you. She thought about how you’d always brushed it off, pretending to be fine, pretending you didn’t need anyone.
But she saw it now. How you needed her, even if you didn’t always show it.
Maldonado gave her a knowing look. “She’s strong. But this… this isn’t something she should face alone.”
Emily nodded, her chest tightening. “She’s not, she has us all.” She put on a brave face but the only thought that kept crossing her mind was she couldn’t lose you. You meant everything to her. You were the constant she never thought she needed until you were right there beside her.
“Emily,” Penelope called, her voice urgent.
Emily turned to see Penelope staring at her screen, her eyes wide.
“I found something,” Penelope said, pointing to the monitor. “One of Raines’ known associates used a burner phone to make a call right after the ambush. The call pinged off a tower near an industrial area outside the city.”
“Then that’s where we’re going,” Emily said immediately, her voice firm.
The two teams mobilized, moving quickly to gear up and head to the location. Emily’s heart pounded in her chest as they drove toward an industrial complex, the weight of the situation pressing down on her.
***
You didn’t know how long it had been since they’d taken you. Time felt like it was suspended, the world around you spinning in and out of focus. Your body ached with every breath, the bruises from your earlier struggle blooming across your skin, a sharp reminder of your captivity. But now, as the agony consumed you, you couldn’t shake the feeling that your captors were making a deliberate point out of this.
“You think this is going to work?” you spat, your voice hoarse, but full of defiance. You’d lost count of the number of times they’d hit you, the blows coming fast and without mercy. “You think I’m going to break? You’re wrong.”
One of them, the one who’d been hitting you with a pipe, sneered down at you, his eyes cold and calculating. “You’re in no position to talk tough, agent,” he growled. “You’re nothing but a pawn in a game you can’t win.”
You glared up at him, blood dripping down your chin. “A pawn?” you hissed. “You’re a coward, hiding behind your guns, too scared to face someone who knows what you’re really capable of.”
Raines laughed darkly. “Is that what you think?” He stepped forward, leaning in close. “You’re right, agent. We’re not after you for some petty ransom or revenge. We’re after you because of what you represent. You’re the one hunting people like me, making our lives a hell. This is just a taste of what you’ve been dishing out for years.”
Your chest heaved with a sharp breath as you struggled to push yourself off the ground, even as pain shot through your body. “You’re pathetic,” you muttered. “You think you can take me down like this? My team and every FBI agent is coming for you, and you won’t make it far. You’ll be on the run for the rest of your life.”
A cruel laugh escaped Raines, and he kicked you in the ribs, sending you sprawling back to the cold concrete floor. “The FBI? Your little team? They can’t save you now.”
You wheezed, unable to catch your breath, but even as your vision blurred, you refused to give them the satisfaction of seeing you fear them. “They’ll find me. And when they do, you won’t be alive to see it.”
The one who had been quiet until now stepped forward. “We’re not done yet. You’re important, Agent Y/L/N. More than you realize. You’re the head—the one who tracks down people like us. You’re the one who’s been tearing apart everything we’ve built. And now, you’re a message. A symbol. To show the world that no one’s untouchable.”
You felt a chill as the weight of his words settled on you. They knew. They knew exactly what they were doing. This wasn’t just about taking down one FBI agent—it was about sending a message, making a statement that even the people who thought they were safe, could be brought to their knees.
“I’ll die before I let you win,” you muttered, despite the blood in your mouth and the way your limbs trembled. “You’re not going to break me.”
There was a flicker of something in Raines’ eyes—a moment of hesitation. But then he sneered and stepped back. “You don’t get to decide that.”
The moment the words left his mouth, you heard a gunshot. The sharp crack echoed in the silence, and you felt an immediate searing pain in your side. Your breath caught in your throat as the force of the bullet sent you stumbling back. The cold floor met your back, the harsh impact sending waves of agony through your body. You gasped for air, your vision swirling.
You tried to move, tried to pull yourself to your feet, but it was no use. Your body was giving out, every part of you screaming in protest. The pain in your side was unbearable, and you could feel your strength draining away. Blood stained the concrete beneath you, but your mind wouldn’t let you give in.
You tried to keep your focus, but everything was growing dim. And as the world spun out of control, your last thought was of her—Emily. You hoped, more than anything, that she knew you were fighting until the end.
And then you heard it—voices. Movement. The unmistakable sound of a team storming in. There was a flurry of activity, shouting, gunshots, the sound of chaos. But through it all, a figure appeared beside you.
It was Emily. Her eyes wide with panic, her hands shaking as they hovered over you. “You’re going to be okay,” she said, her voice tight, strained. “Stay with me.”
Her touch was gentle, but firm as she pressed her hands to your bleeding side. You could barely focus on her face, but you saw the urgency in her eyes.
“Stay with me, please,” Emily repeated, her voice cracking now. Her hands pressed harder, trying to stop the blood flow, but you could feel the world slipping away.
You reached out weakly, grabbing her hand. "I… I’m fine," you choked, but the words felt like they weren’t yours.
“Don’t say that,” Emily said firmly, her voice breaking as she shook her head. “You’re not fine. We are gonna get you help, okay? For now, I’m here. I have you.”
But her voice sounded so distant now, the darkness closing in around you as your body gave way to the pain.
***
You woke up to a sterile, white light above you, your body heavy and sore. The room around you was quiet except for the soft beeping of a monitor, its rhythm steady and reassuring. You tried to move, but every inch of you felt battered, like the physical toll of your captivity had taken root deep inside you.
It wasn’t until you heard her voice—low, soft, but filled with that familiar warmth—that you felt anything resembling comfort.
"Y/N," Emily whispered, her voice raw with emotion. Your eyes fluttered open, the world around you blurry, but you made out the silhouette of Emily sitting beside your hospital bed. Her face was weary, eyes rimmed red, but when she saw you stir, relief flooded her expression in a wave so powerful, it made your heart ache.
You tried to smile, but it came out as a grimace. Every part of you was sore—your side ached sharply, and your head throbbed with every movement.
"What… happened?" you whispered, your voice hoarse and ragged, struggling to make sense of the fragments in your mind.
“You were shot,” Emily explained softly, squeezing your hand gently, her touch warm and steady. “But the teams got there in time. You’re going to be okay now.”
You let out a shaky breath, your mind spinning as your eyes fluttered shut again. But Emily’s grip never wavered, her hand clasped tightly in yours. You could feel the warmth of her presence, the steady reassurance that she was here, that you were safe.
“You’re safe now,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion, the weight of the words grounding you. "I’m not going anywhere."
Her words wrapped around you like a lifeline, and for the first time since the nightmare had started, you felt like you could breathe again. The exhaustion pulled at you, but this time, you welcomed the darkness, knowing she was there beside you. Knowing she was not going anywhere.
***
When you woke again, the world had shifted. The light was dimmer, and the sounds around you seemed muffled, as though you were in a different world altogether. But one thing hadn’t changed: Emily was there. She hadn’t left, not once.
The pain in your body was sharp, but the ache in your chest felt deeper—heavier. You had been taken. Tortured. Shot. And yet here you were, alive, breathing, but with a thousand things left unspoken between you. The past few days were a blur of pain, fear, and uncertainty, but in this moment, all you knew was that you didn’t want to live without her.
The door creaked open, and a familiar voice broke your reverie.
“Hey, Sleeping Beauty,” Emily’s voice was rough, but there was relief in it. A soft, comforting smile played on her lips as she leaned in closer, her hand resting gently on yours. “You’re awake,” she said, her eyes scanning your face, looking for any sign of recognition.
You tried to speak, but your throat was dry, your body weak from everything you’d endured. Emily was already there, a cup of water in her hand, helping you drink. It was cool, soothing as it slid down your throat.
“God, I thought I was going to lose you,” she whispered, her voice trembling. She didn’t hide her fear now, not after everything.
You wanted to say something—anything to reassure her—but your mouth was too dry, and your words were lost. You could feel the weight of the moment, the unspoken truth hanging between you both, thick in the air. Emily had been there through it all. When you couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe, she was the one constant, the one person who kept you grounded. She was your anchor.
As you lay there, surrounded by the sterile hum of machines, the faintest brush of her hand against yours brought your mind back to her. To everything she meant to you. You could feel the vulnerability, the raw emotion seeping through every glance and every touch.
Emily’s voice broke through your thoughts again, low and shaky.
“I should’ve been there sooner,” she murmured, her fingers brushing a strand of hair from your face. “I—I couldn’t… I couldn’t save you fast enough.”
You shook your head weakly, trying to stop her self-blame before it took hold.
“No,” you whispered, your voice hoarse, but your gaze steady on hers. “You were there. You came for me. That’s all that matters.”
Your fingers brushed against hers, and for a long moment, you held onto her, both of you silent but for the thumping of your hearts. You needed her—needed her more than you had ever admitted, even to yourself.
The moment felt fragile, suspended in time. Everything that had been left unsaid between you finally rose to the surface, undeniable and raw. You could feel the weight of your shared history in the way Emily looked at you now, eyes searching yours for a truth you had both been avoiding.
“I thought I was going to lose you,” Emily’s voice cracked, the words barely escaping as she leaned in closer, her forehead resting against yours. “I don’t know what I would’ve done if I hadn’t gotten to you in time.”
Her words made your chest tighten, and you couldn’t help the soft, pained laugh that escaped as memories flooded back. “Emily,” you began, your voice trembling with emotion, “I used to think you were the most infuriating person I’d ever met. Always challenging me, always pushing me to be better—even when I didn’t want to hear it.”
You shook your head, a small, wry smile tugging at your lips despite the tears in your eyes. “Honestly, at first, I thought you were just a pain in the ass. Always questioning me, always making me second-guess my decisions.”
Emily tilted her head, that familiar smirk creeping onto her face. “I wasn’t that bad,” she teased, though her voice was thick with emotion.
You arched a brow. “You were relentless,” you shot back, a hint of playfulness breaking through.
Emily chuckled softly, brushing a stray lock of hair from your face. “Well, I was there for you,” she said, her tone lighter now. “Even if you were just as stubborn as I was.”
A laugh escaped you, soft but genuine. “Excuse me? I wasn’t the one flooding your inbox with work emails at three in the morning.”
Emily shook her head, the teasing glint in her eyes softening. “And yet, you kept answering them. Funny how that works.”
The banter faded, leaving a charged silence between you. Her hand brushed over yours, and when she spoke again, her voice was quieter, more vulnerable.
"I was a pain, wasn’t I?” she murmured, the smirk gone. “I didn’t know how to let people in. But you…" She paused, her voice faltering, before meeting your gaze. “You made me want to.”
Her words sent a shiver through you, and you tightened your hold on her hand. “And you made me stronger,” you replied, your voice steady despite the weight of emotion. “Even when I didn’t want to admit it.”
Emily exhaled softly, her thumb brushing over your knuckles. “I love you,” she whispered, the words raw and honest.
Your chest swelled as a tear slipped down your cheek. “I love you too,” you said, the words a quiet promise.
Her eyes searched yours, vulnerable and raw, as though she was laying herself bare for the first time. Slowly, she leaned in, hesitating for just a moment before her lips brushed against yours. The kiss was tentative, almost shy—like she was giving you space to pull away. But you didn’t. You tilted toward her, deepening the kiss, pouring into it everything you’d both been too afraid to say until now.
It wasn’t just a kiss. It was an anchor, a promise, a declaration that you weren’t alone anymore.
When you finally broke apart, the room felt lighter, though neither of you moved far. Your foreheads rested together as you shared a quiet moment, your breaths mingling.
And then the door creaked open, shattering the stillness.
Both of you turned toward the sound, and soft laughter bubbled between you when you spotted the team lingering just outside.
Maldonado stood at the front, leaning casually against the doorframe with a smug grin. “Called it,” he said, crossing his arms like he’d just won a bet.
Behind him, Rossi nodded, his expression unreadable except for the hint of amusement in his voice. “Took you two long enough. I was starting to think we’d have to lock you in a room together.”
Emily groaned, rolling her eyes, though her hand remained firmly in yours. “Thanks for the vote of confidence, Dave,” she said dryly, but there was no hiding the warmth in her tone—or the soft smile that lingered on her lips.
You glanced at Emily, catching her gaze. The playful banter and teasing from the team melted into the background as her fingers tightened slightly around yours. The future you’d been so afraid of didn’t feel so impossible anymore.
Turning back to the team, you couldn’t resist a grin. “Hey, some things are worth the wait,” you quipped, earning a laugh from everyone in the room.
Emily’s gaze softened, her lips curving into a real, unguarded smile—the kind that made your chest ache in the best way.
“Worth the wait,” she echoed quietly, her voice meant just for you.
The team filtered away, giving you space, but their supportive presence lingered in the air. For the first time, you let yourself believe that the road ahead wasn’t so daunting. It wasn’t just about surviving anymore.
