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illdowhatiwantthanks · 20 hours

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The Fig & The Lime (The Surprise, Part 5)

Emily Prentiss x fem!reader Warnings: pregnancy times, established relationship, fluff on fluff on fluff, vague references to sex, church times and references to religious trauma Word Count: 2.1k

Summary: As your risk of a miscarriage goes down, you and Emily decide it's time to start telling people about the baby. You decide to start with the hardest person: Emily's mom. And her reaction prompts you both to make your first major parenting decision together.

Week 11: The Fig

You couldn't remember sleeping more in your entire life. You felt like you’d reverted to infancy: eat, sleep, repeat. No matter how long you slept, it was never enough. By 10:00 AM, you needed a nap. Then again at 2:00. Maybe 4:00 as well. And at night? You were lucky to make it ‘til 8:00.

So Emily wasn’t surprised when she got back from her week-long case and found you fast asleep, curled up on your side of the bed, your glasses crooked on your nose and your thumb stuck in a book. She smiled lovingly at you, pausing just to stare at you for a minute, just to watch your chest move up and down, to listen to your little huffs of breath.

Emily set her go-bag down, removed the dirty clothes, and threw them in the closet hamper basketball-style. One missed and landed nearby on the floor. She shrugged, stupidly relieved that you’d been asleep for it. You would’ve made fun of her for missing.

She crept over to you, trying not to make a sound, and leaned down to brush your hair out of your face. She gently removed your glasses and set them on your nightstand, then slid the book out of your hands, careful to hold your place. Emily leaned down to place a soft kiss on your head, standing back to stare at you again.

She shook her head and smiled. How many years had you been together? Was it five now? Six? And she still got butterflies every time she saw you sleeping in her bed. There was just something so vulnerable about you when you were asleep, something precious and rare and beautiful. For Emily, sleeping around someone meant incredible trust, it meant believing that you were safe when you could do nothing to protect yourself. Emily didn’t feel that kind of safe around anyone except you. So it made her heart melt every time she found you sleeping, every time you let yourself drift off, every time she came home and you didn’t wake up because your body and mind felt so safe with her. Emily loved making you feel safe. And, to her, moments like this were the physical manifestation of a mission accomplished.

Emily took a quick shower, washing away the grime–physical and mental–of a week spent hunting a gang of serial killers. She put on a soft t-shirt and sweatpants and crawled into bed, calm flooding her body knowing that it was Saturday afternoon. She’d have the rest of today and all of tomorrow to do nothing but be with you.

As she wrapped her arm around your waist and pulled you to her, you breathed in sharply and blinked. For a moment, Emily felt guilty for waking you, but the guilt disappeared when you turned your head around, bleary-eyed and beaming.

“You’re home,” you breathed, voice raspy. You turned around so you could face her, then wrapping your body around hers and holding her as tightly as a snake, your head nestled in the crook of her neck. "You smell good," you mumbled.

Emily smiled. Half-awake, half-asleep you was her favorite because you were less self-conscious than usual. All-awake Y/N would feel a little embarrassed about wanting to be so, so close to her. All-asleep Y/N would have been, well, asleep. But halfway Y/N… Emily loved the way you pressed your body into hers, like you were making yourself a nest, a home, right there in her arms.

She kissed the top of your head, running her hands through your hair.

“I missed you,” Emily whispered. “Go back to sleep, love.”

“Wait, I have to show you something,” you groaned, stretching a bit and turning to lie on your back.

You took her hand and guided it down your body.

Emily raised her eyebrows and smirked. “Y/N, I’m pretty sure I’ve already seen this, but I’m happy to take another look if you want.”

You whacked her playfully, still not quite awake.

“No, you perv,” you grumbled. You pressed her hand down just above your pelvic bone. “Do you feel that?”

“It’s kind of hard, like a… like a bouncy ball or something.”

You nodded, smiling, your eyes drifting shut again. “It’s the womb.”

“It is!?” Emily sat up and crouched down above your belly, eager to see–though there wasn’t really much to see yet. She pressed on the spot gently with her fingers, staring at it wonderingly.

The baby’s in there, she thought, giddily. My baby’s right there! She placed a kiss there, for you and for the baby.

“Does it feel weird?” she asked, glancing up at you when you didn’t answer. Your mouth hung open and you snored softly. She smiled; you’d fallen back asleep.

She kissed the spot where the baby was one more time, then kissed your shoulder, your cheek, your forehead. She manhandled you a bit so that you were snug in her arms, the way she knew you liked to be, even if you didn’t like admitting it. Emily wrapped one arm around you, and with the other, placed her hand over your womb, feeling the little rubber ball like it was magic and might disappear at any moment. But she knew the real magic was you, your body knitting together a child right there, right below her hand.

Week 12: The Lime

You glared at yourself in front of the mirror, tugging on your maxi skirt.

“You look beautiful, honey,” Emily said, leaning down to kiss your cheek. “Zip me up?”

You sighed and zipped up Emily’s dress, a red-and-white floral number, momentarily distracted from your own outfit by how truly stunning Emily looked.

“I wanted to wear a suit,” you grumbled. “You know I like suits better.”

“Well, Little Lime disagreed,” Emily replied, trying to hide a smile.

You weren’t showing yet, not really, but your custom suits didn’t fit anymore, and you were furious. It was Easter Sunday. You were going to Mass with Emily’s mom.

Neither of you were religious, but it was important to Elizabeth and, while Emily and her mom weren’t very close, Emily figured that once or twice a year, she didn’t mind seeing her mom–and she actually kind of liked going to Mass.

“You know I like to look extra gay when we go to church,” you complained as Emily pulled on a pair of heels. “What if they think we’re just friends?”

Emily chuckled, taking your hand and kissing the side of your head. “Baby, I’m pretty sure no one’s gonna think we’re just friends.”

You locked the apartment door behind you, still not entirely convinced.

“I mean, I can make out with you during the homily if it’ll make you feel better,” Emily teased.

“No.” You shook your head. “Let’s just get this over with.”

“You’re still okay with telling my mom about the baby?”

“Yeah,” you decided. “It’s time. Plus, when would we see her again?”

Emily shrugged. “I don’t know… New Year’s?”

You scoffed. “Yeah, I don’t think we should show up at Christmas Eve Mass with a surprise three-month-old.”

And with that, you headed to the one place you’d always assumed you’d never return to: church.

Elizabeth hugged Emily stiffly as you slid into the pew, then hugged you a little less stiffly. It wasn’t that she was homophobic exactly, it’s that she would have preferred Emily settle down with a man instead of a woman. But she liked you. You had a hard time with her, mostly because you knew that Emily, despite growing up with enough money to support about eight of your family, hadn’t had a happy childhood with her mom. But you did your best to be kind and gracious, for Emily’s sake. Emily didn’t want to be close to her mom, but she did want her in her life, and that was enough for you to try your best.

Emily had a complicated relationship with church. You’d grown up Baptist, not Catholic, so the solemnity and tradition of Catholicism was foreign to you. Despite being an atheist, Emily still found comfort in attending the occasional Mass. It was the repetition, she told you. The familiarity of it. You didn’t understand, not really. When you’d left religion, you had never wanted to step foot in a church again. But Emily was not you. There were parts of it that were home to her–as much of a home as she’d ever known moving around so much. And even though you didn’t understand, you honored and respected it.

You wondered, as the sounds of Latin and the smell of incense mingled around you, if Emily would want the baby to be baptized. You hadn’t discussed it. Religion wasn’t something you discussed often. You guessed you’d be okay with it, but you were adamantly opposed to raising a child to believe in God. Your own childhood had been filled with fiery stories of hell, tales of martyrdom that venerated toxic self-sacrifice, and the crushing, shameful, pervasive belief that something was inherently wrong with you–something that God had to fix.

You would never, never let your child believe that something was fundamentally wrong with her. Never. You wanted her to grow up believing that she was fundamentally right just the way she was. You made a mental note to discuss all this with Emily later. You assumed you’d be on the same page, since neither of you believed in God, but it was better to be safe than sorry.

After the service, Elizabeth took you out to eat at a very nice Italian restaurant. She ordered a bottle of wine for the table, and as the waiter leaned down to pour your glass, you tapped his arm.

“Just water for me, thank you,” you told him.

Elizabeth raised her eyebrows, looking back and forth between you and Emily.

“Something to share?” she asked.

Emily exhaled deeply and smiled at you. She was nervous, you could tell. She took your hand and looked at her mom.

“Yes, Mom. We are… having a baby. Y/N’s pregnant!”

“Well,” her mom responded, taking a sip of wine. Emily’s face fell. You could have slapped Elizabeth. “That’s… that’s excellent, dear. Congratulations.”

“Thanks,” Emily mumbled, and you squeezed her leg under the table. Most of the time she was so good at predicting her mom’s reactions. She was used to being let down and sidelined, used to her mom being disappointed in her. But sometimes, like anyone would, she let hope get the best of her, and got hurt all over again. Of course, Elizabeth had been lukewarm about your pregnancy. She’d been lukewarm about your marriage, lukewarm about your relationship. Hell, she was lukewarm about Emily in general.

You were glad that the baby–and Emily–had one side of the family that was truly over the moon about all of it. Your parents, you knew, would be giddy at the prospect of another grandchild. And your siblings would be thrilled to have a new niece or nephew. And Emily had told you before, often, that your family felt more family to her than hers ever had.

Later, when you came home, you cuddled up to Emily on the couch, leaning back into her chest. She had a faraway look in her eyes, absentmindedly running her fingers through your hair.

“Are you okay?” you asked quietly.

She sighed. “I don’t know what I expected.”

“You expected your mom to be happy you’re having a baby. That’s a reasonable expectation.”

“Not with her.”

You turned your head back to look at her, placing a hand on her cheek. “Emily. You deserve a family who celebrates with you. It’s not fair that she doesn’t do that. It’s okay to be upset.”

She seemed lost in thought for a while. You took one of her hands and played with her fingers.

“I don’t think we should go to Mass anymore.”

You furrowed your eyebrows. “Are you sure?”

She nodded. “I don’t want him growing up in that.”

You felt your heart unclench a bit. All those earlier anxieties, unfounded.

“I don’t want you to feel like you’re losing something though," you told her. "You always said Mass felt like home.”

She pressed her face into your neck, kissing your shoulder. “It did for a long time. But I have other things that feel like home now. Like you. And Little Lime. And the BAU.”

Your heart surged. It was an honor to be the place where Emily felt at home. “No Mass then,” you said.

“No Mass.”

And just like that, your first big parenting decision together had been made.

#emily prentiss #emily prentiss x reader #emily prentiss x fem!reader #emily prentiss fanfic #emily prentiss drabble #emily prentiss fluff #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic

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illdowhatiwantthanks · 2 days

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Postpartum

Amelia Shepherd x fem!reader Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI (NSFW), sex, oral sex, hella eating out, fingering, etc., mentions of anatomy/body parts, some explicit language, post-pregnancy times (please let me know if I've left anything out!) Word Count: 2.0k

Summary: You're six weeks postpartum, and your doctor has cleared you for sex, but you're worried that it might not be the same anymore. Amelia assuages all of your worries. 😉

Request Info: This was requested by an anonymous user, but the request itself accidentally got deleted! The user also requested that the reader be an ortho surgeon and a third twisted sister. Whoever you are, I hope you find this, and I'm so sorry to have lost your original request!

“You’re good to go,” your OBGYN declared, finishing up your 6-weeks postpartum checkup.

You raised your eyebrows at her. “As in, good to go?”

She laughed. “Good to go, as in cleared to resume any and all sexual activity as you feel ready for it.”

You nodded and repeated it to yourself. “Good to go…”

But as you left Grey-Sloan, making a quick stop at the ortho unit to say hello to the nurses and the other attendings, you couldn’t help but wonder if you really were good to go. Sure, you missed sex with Amelia. You missed her body, missed connecting with her in that way, but you were also so self-conscious. You hadn’t had any major tears or anything, but you had shoved a human head out of your vagina less than two months ago. It was bound to be different down there. It felt different. What if sex didn’t feel good anymore? What if it never did? Or, even worse, what if it looked or felt different for Amelia, and she didn’t like sleeping with you anymore?

You decided to text Meredith and Cristina about it, as you so often did about any and everything.

Y/N: You guys I’ve been cleared for sex

M: Yay!

C: Good for you bitch

Y/N: I’m kinda scared tho…

M: Aw, why?

Y/N: Does it hurt after? Or like idk was Derek weirded out?

C: It feels like I could have been left out of this conversation

M: Shut up Cristina we’re being supportive! And no Y/N it didn’t hurt. You just have to take it slow and do what feels good at the time. And stop if it doesn’t feel good.

C: You don’t have a dick to deal with so you should be okay

M: CRISTINA

Y/N: I mean tbh we have several

M: Ew she’s my sister I didn’t need to know that…

C: I need to know more…

You shook your head and smiled. You decided that you might as well try, if Amelia was up for it. And there was no question that Amelia was up for it. She’d powered through like a champ, but before this, the longest you’d gone without having sex was two weeks and that was only because you’d been brought in as a specialist on a case at another hospital.

When you walked into the apartment, everything was quiet–a rarity at your house these days. You crept through the rooms, looking for Amelia and Pippa, and finally found them in the nursery. Amelia held Pippa to her chest, bouncing her softly as she slept, little chubby cheeks pressing out like she was blowing bubbles.

You placed a hand on Amelia’s back and kissed her on the cheek. You nodded toward Pippa, eyebrows scrunched.

“I just can’t bring myself to put her down,” Amelia whispered. “How was your appointment?”

“Good.”

Amelia stared pointedly at you. “Good good?”

You nodded, smirking.

If Pippa had not been tiny and fragile, Amelia would have tossed her into the crib like a football.

She placed the baby gently on her back in the crib, then crashed into you with the force of a tidal wave–or six weeks of no sex.

She pushed you into the hallway wall, shutting Pippa’s door behind her, and pressed into you, her mouth and hands desperate. She ran her tongue up and down your neck and back to your mouth and yanked your shirt over your head. God, you’d missed this. You’d missed her. Even though she’d been right here next to you the whole time. She groaned as she pushed herself into you, and you smiled into her kiss.

At this rate, Amelia would be finished before you even had a chance to make it to the bed.

“No, no!” she whined as you pulled away, her blue eyes pleading desperately with you.

“Come to bed, Amy,” you teased, taking her by the hand and leading her to the bedroom.

You gently removed her clothes and pushed her onto the bed. “You first,” you said.

She grabbed at your face hungrily as you leaned over her, kissing you with all the fervor of someone who’s love has been lost at sea for several years. She gasped and arched her back as your hand grazed over her clit.

You couldn’t help but smile at how needy she was, her hips bucking into your hand as you held it still, cupping her heat.

“Y/N, don’t fucking tease me,” she scolded, her voice stuttering. “It’s been way too long for that.”

“Oh, you don’t like that?” you said, smug. It was not often that Amelia was this powerless in bed. Usually it was the other way around, so you were enjoying this moment.

She grabbed your face, rough, and then soft as she ran her hand through your hair. “Just finish me already so I can get inside you.” She pulled your face closer, her breath hot in your ear as she whispered. “I’ve missed the taste of you.”

You’d never switched gears faster. No more power trips, just getting Amelia off as quickly as possible.

You kissed and licked your way down her body, intoxicated by the way she pushed into you and pulled you closer. By the time you reached her center, she was panting and glistening and you knew it'd only be a matter of minutes before she was absolute putty.

You pressed soft kisses into her inner thighs, then closer and closer until she was nearly bursting with the want of you, so that when you finally, finally, wrapped your mouth around her clit, she nearly lost her mind. You held her hips in place as she moaned, licking your way through her, around her, inside of her until she was shaking in your arms, hips rolling to meet your tongue. And for the final touch, you slipped two of your fingers inside of her, curling down and around, just how you knew she liked it. Her hands were gripping your hair so hard you thought might pull it out. “Y/N!” she gasped, her breath coming out in short, sharp moans as she came on your fingers. You smiled as you buried your face in her, guiding her through her high and back down again.

“Holy shit,” she breathed, her chest still heaving.

“Good?” you asked, already knowing the answer, as you wiped your mouth.

She nodded, still struggling to catch her breath. “Give me a second.”

You lay down next to her, feeling wildly pleased with yourself, especially when Amelia rolled over on top of you and pressed her mouth into yours, moaning as she tasted herself on your lips.

But as she worked her way down your body, anxiety shot through you.

You grabbed her hand. “Amy, wait…”

She looked up at you, concerned.

“You don’t have to,” you said, avoiding her eyes.

“I know I don’t,” she replied, still looking at you curiously. “I want to. I’ve wanted to for months.”

“I think…” you stuttered. “I think I’d really rather you didn’t.”

Amelia’s eyebrows furrowed. “Hey,” she said, laying down next to you and propping herself up on her elbow so she could see your face. “What’s going on?”

“I’m just not ready.”

“That’s fine, but you seemed super ready about two minutes ago.”

You didn’t respond, fiddling with an edge of your comforter.

“Y/N,” she said, brushing your hair behind your ear. “Tell me what’s going on in that pretty head please.”

She took your hand and you played with her fingers for a moment before answering.

“I’m scared you won't like it.”

Amelia looked genuinely shocked. “You’re what now?”

“I got messed up down there,” you mumbled. “What if it’s not like normal for you?”

“Oh, babe,” she said, caressing your face. “You’re not messed up. You could never be messed up. You’re you and I love you. I love all of you.”

You stayed quiet.

“Honey,” she continued, more emphatic now. “Your body made a whole human. A human that is sleeping in the bedroom down the hallway. A beautiful, precious human that I love with all my heart and hope with all my heart stays asleep for a while so that I can get in there. She had her time. It's my fucking turn."

You couldn’t help but giggle a bit.

“Listen,” she ranted, excited that your mood was brightening and trying to make you laugh more. “I’m like the Lewis and Clark of vaginas, okay? The wilderness must be explored. I gotta get in there and get the lay of the land. And it might be new, right?”

You nodded, grinning and blushing.

“But new doesn’t mean bad. Lots of times new means better. So just… let me do my exploring, okay?”

“Okay,” you acquiesced.

Amelia was gentler with this attempt, slow and steady and worshipful as she moved down your body, taking her time especially at the place where your uterus still bulged, where new stretch marks had drawn their way across your abdomen. And when she got to your center, she was gentle there, too, mindful of your anxiety, mindful that it might take your body more time than usual to warm up.

She was loving and slow and obsessive, sighing with pleasure as she placed kisses along the inside of your thighs, on your clit, all over you. Amelia’s careful touch had washed away most of your anxiety, leaving behind your flushed face, the shuddering of your body each time her skin met yours.

And when finally, finally, she had you wet and whimpering, she dove in like a woman starved.

“Amy,” you breathed, lightly holding her head in your hands as you threw your own head back, your hips rising to meet her. You could feel her smile against you.

“You want more?” she asked, and you knew she meant, Do you want fingers or a strap or a toy or anything like that?

You shook your head. “No, just–” Your breath caught in your throat, replaced by a moan as the knot in your lower abdomen tightened. “Just keep going.”

If there was one thing about Amelia, it was that she could eat you out forever. You’d been afraid that would change, but clearly your fears had been unfounded. She was insatiable.

“Amy–” you exclaimed, arching your back as your body approached the edge. You couldn’t even get the words out, just “Amy” over and over.

She reached up to grasp one of your hands in hers as you fell apart around her, Amelia lapping up every last bit of you.

You breathed heavily, watching as Amelia emerged from between your thighs, grinning like an idiot, her face an absolute mess.

You laughed as she wiped her face. “I take it your expedition went well?”

“God!” she exclaimed, flopping down beside you. “I missed you.”

“We literally have not been apart for weeks.”

“Okay, well, then I missed your vagina.”

You giggled, rolling over a bit to kiss her on the cheek. “You’re a dork.”

“Yeah, but I’m your dork,” Amelia retorted, pulling you in for another heated kiss.

You were interrupted then by a loud, crinkly wail through the baby monitor.

Amelia groaned, but you could see a smile creeping in. She stood and stretched. “I’ll go get her.”

“Amelia!” you hissed, throwing a pillow at her. “You can't bring her in here! We’re naked, and it smells like sex!”

“She’s six weeks old! She won’t remember!” Amelia nodded at you. “Go take a shower. Relax. Then we can switch. It's almost time to feed her anyway.”

You lay in bed a moment longer, waiting to hear Amelia on the baby monitor.

“Hello!” she cooed, her voice crackling through the speaker as Pippa continued to cry. “Hi, pretty girl! Oh, I know. I know. You want Mama? Let’s go see her. Oh, you love your mama, don’t you? Mommy does, too.”

You smiled, your heart full as you listened.

“We loooooove Mama, don’t we? Yes, we do. We love her so much.”

#amelia shepherd #amelia shepherd x reader #amelia shepherd x fem!reader #amelia shepherd drabble #amelia shepherd fluff #amelia shepherd smut #amelia shepherd one shot #amelia shepherd fanfic #grey's anatomy #grey's anatomy fanfic

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illdowhatiwantthanks · 2 days

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The Kumquat (The Surprise, Part 4)

Emily Prentiss x fem!reader Warnings: pregnancy times, established relationship, fluff on fluff on fluff, some references to past sexual trauma (nothing graphic), a Pap smear (aka the WORST medical exam and I will stand by that) Word Count: 1.4k

Summary: It's Emily's first non-local case since finding out you were pregnant, and you're both struggling. Especially because it means she'll have to miss you first prenatal appointment–and the first sound of your baby's heartbeat. Maybe there's still a way to share the moment, though...

Week 10: The Kumquat

Your heart beat wildly as you pulled into the parking lot of the OBGYN’s office. You wiped your sweaty palms on your jeans and checked your phone. Nothing. You groaned and rubbed your forehead.

You had a hard time with doctors, particularly with gynecologists–a stubborn remnant of past trauma. Emily knew that. Emily knew it was your first appointment and that you’d be scared. She’d wanted to come along; she would have asked all the questions you'd forget.

But duty called. It always did. You’d gotten lucky over the last month since finding out you were pregnant. The BAU hadn’t caught any huge cases and, even the cases they did catch had been local enough that Emily still made it home to you most nights. But, of course, your luck had run out.

You were angry with Emily for leaving, but you knew that was unreasonable. This is what you’d signed up for. Her job was important to her. It was important to you. The fact that she was so passionate about and dedicated to her team and the work they did was one of the things you loved most about her. You were always sad to see her leave and, yes, sometimes frustrated when she had to miss things you’d planned together, but at the end of the day, you knew she loved you, and that was all that mattered.

But this time. This time you were struggling. You tried not to take it out on Emily too much; it wasn’t her fault that your hormones were going wild. You were more everything than usual. More angry at her for leaving, more sad while she was gone, more terrified of going to the doctor.

You glared at your message-less phone for a few minutes before taking a deep breath and texting Emily.

Headed into the OBGYN🤞 I wish you were here. Be safe love 💗

You waited a few minutes with no response, taking a deep breath to swallow your rage. For all you knew, she could be in a bulletproof vest trying to talk down a murderer right now. She loves you, you reminded yourself. If she could be here, she would.

In the office, you were assaulted with the smell of rubbing alcohol and Lysol. You filled out what felt like a full novella of personal and family medical history. When they finally called you back, you felt like a science experiment–poked and prodded and measured. When the doctor pulled out the stirrups, you flinched.

“Is that necessary?” you asked.

She nodded at you. “Sorry. It’s just been long enough since your last Pap smear that I’d rather be safe than sorry.”

You hated it. Hated the whole process, you always did. It was painful and invasive and it made you remember things you’d really rather not remember. Emily usually went with you, to let you squeeze her hand and to whisper that it was okay, you were safe.

You clenched and felt tears prick at your eyes as the cold metal forced its way into you. Hands gripping at the paper covering the seat, you tried your very best to imagine Emily’s voice, her face, the smell of her hair. And you tried not to feel too furious that she wasn’t there. It’s not her fault, you repeated like a mantra.

They took some blood, they asked about running tests to screen for the baby’s health.

“Yes,” you said. “Run all of them.”

“The good news,” the doctor continued, “about these tests is that you also get to find out the gender earlier if that’s something you want.”

You knew you’d need to talk to Emily about it, but part of you didn’t want to know. Emily stubbornly calling the baby he, so sure was she that it was a boy, and you calling the baby she out of pure spite, had become an endearing part of your pregnancy to you. You might just rather be surprised.

“Now for the fun part!” the doctor said, clapping her hands together. “Would you like to try and find the heartbeat?”

Your stomach fluttered with excitement. “Really!? Isn’t it too early?”

“Sometimes we can hear it early with Doppler.”

You nodded vigorously, lifting up your shirt. It was the only time in your life you’d voluntarily had a doctor examine you.

She pressed the device to your lower belly, searching for sound. You waited rapt, barely breathing, so scared were you that you’d miss it.

But then: a whooshing sound and a quick, urgent, pattering heartbeat. Your baby’s heartbeat. You grinned wide.

“That’s her?” you asked, giddy.

The doctor nodded.

You felt like crying, from pure joy, but also because you wished Emily was here. She would be so sad, so sad, to have missed this. But maybe you could bring the heartbeat to her.

You took out your phone. “Can I record this?” you asked. “I want to send it to my wife.”

“Of course,” the doctor said.

You pressed the record button on your Voice Memos, and recorded a good thirty seconds of the baby’s heartbeat, knowing that Emily would listen to it again and again and again.

When you finally left the office, proud of yourself, you hopped in the car and checked your phone. Still nothing. You sent off another text to Emily.

Must be a hard day. ❤️Here’s something to cheer you up! 👶🏻🫀I miss you. Call when you can.

Later that night, as you lay in bed reading, your phone started buzzing. You smiled wide. Emily.

“Good evening, Agent Prentiss,” you joked.

“The heartbeat!” she squealed, so loud you had to hold the phone away from your ear.

You grinned and gushed. “Isn’t it the most beautiful heartbeat you’ve ever heard!?”

“Yes! After yours, of course.”

“Wow, you’re laying it on thick.”

“I’ve got a lot to make up for.” Emily sounded genuinely sad. “Honey, I’m so sorry I wasn’t there.”

“It’s okay,” you said, most of your anger dissipating the moment the words I’m sorry left her mouth.

“It’s not okay. I should’ve been there. You hate going to the doctor, and it’s our baby. It’ll get easier after we tell my team. Then I can take a step back.”

“It’s really okay, Em.”

She sighed, and you could tell there was nothing you could say that would alleviate her guilt. She’d carry it with her until she was home again, until she could scoop you up and hold you and take care of you the way she wanted to.

“Was everything okay? With you and Little Kumquat?”

“Kumquat looks good. Healthy as a horse. I–” You thought about the Pap smear, the taste of metal seeping into your mouth. “I’m okay, too.”

“You’re lying.” Emily’s voice shifted, now deep and concerned. “Y/N, what happened?”

“I’m not lying!” Sometimes you really hated being married to a profiler.

Emily grew more panicked. “Is something wrong? Honey, do I need to come home?”

“No! Em, it’s just…” You sighed, picking at your fingernails. “They had to do a Pap smear.”

The line was quiet for a moment before Emily spoke, her voice thick with emotion. “Oh, honey. Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” you answered, shaky, afraid if you tried to say more you might start crying.

“Y/N, I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry I wasn’t there. I know how hard those are for you.”

You stayed quiet, willing yourself not to cry. Emily felt guilty enough; you crying would make it ten times worse.

“Listen, I’m at a hotel tonight, okay? I’ll have my phone by me all night. I know sometimes you get nightmares after, so just call me if you wake up, okay?”

“Emily, you don’t have to do that,” you said softly. “You need sleep.”

“I won’t sleep one wink if I’m worried about you all night, so promise me you’ll call.”

“Okay. I promise.”

“Thank you. Ugh, Rossi’s waving me over. I gotta go, but I love you so much, and I miss you every second, and I can’t wait to get home to you.”

“I love you, too.”

You slept with your phone on the pillow next to you that night, and it wasn’t the same as having Emily there, especially when you woke up gasping in a cold sweat. But her voice lulling you back to sleep was pretty close, and you were so, so glad to have her–even from far away.

#emily prentiss #emily prentiss x reader #emily prentiss x fem!reader #emily prentiss drabble #emily prentiss fluff #emily prentiss fanfic #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic

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illdowhatiwantthanks · 3 days

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The Kidney Bean & The Grape (The Surprise, Part 3)

Emily Prentiss x fem!reader Warnings: emetophobia (nothing graphic, but characters discuss morning sickness), mostly fluff, established relationship, pregnancy times, some explicit language Word Count: 2.2k

Summary: Weeks 8 & 9 of your pregnancy are underway. Morning sickness has hit you like a freight train and you're feeling sick and gross and weak. Thankfully, Emily is always there by your side.

Week 8: The Kidney Bean

You slumped into the wall next to the toilet, shaking, a thin coating of sweat covering your face. You were so tired, so tired, of throwing up. You’d read that not all pregnant people experienced morning sickness, and that not all of the ones who did puked, and not all the ones who puked did so on a daily basis. You sent a silent fuck you into the ether to all those people.

Emily crept into the bathroom, a cup of ice chips and your favorite tiny spoon in hand. “Oh, honey,” she said, looking at you with the most pitiful, helpless expression you’d ever seen. Your hunched, exhausted body broke her heart.

You groaned and leaned your head against the tiled wall, trying to breathe steadily as waves of nausea coursed through you.

Emily grabbed a washrag from under the sink, running it under the faucet and squeezing out the excess. She folded it carefully, then sat down on the floor next to you, placing the cool rag gently on the back of your neck. She played with the messy strands of hair at your nape as she held the washrag in place.

“You think you can manage some ice chips?” she asked quietly. You thought for a moment before nodding.

You sat up and reached to grab the cup from her, your hand grazing one of your breasts. A searing, rhythmic pain shot through your body, and you doubled over, clutching your chest.

“Ow! Fuck!” you yelled, bursting immediately and uncontrollably into tears. Pain and nausea and hormones coursed through you like tributaries of some awful, body-wide river. Yet another thing you hated about being pregnant.

“What!? What happened!? Are you okay!?” Emily asked, scanning your body for harm.

You leaned into her, and she wrapped her arms protectively around your shaking body. You could count on one hand the number of times in your adult life that you’d full-on sobbed–until the last two weeks. Now you’d need at least four or five hands.

“I–” you gasped, gulping in great breaths of air as tears streamed down your face. “I hit my boob when I reached for the ice!” It would be funny if you weren’t so pitiful, if you hadn’t been nauseated and in pain for eight days straight now. The knowledge that it could and likely would last for months made you physically ill.

Emily shushed you and held your face to her chest as you cried. She knew that you’d both made the decision that you would carry. And that it was a smart decision–you were younger than her, your career was less demanding and unpredictable, and you worked from home. But at this moment? She wished with everything in her that it was her body and not yours going through all this.

As Emily rocked you, she felt like crying, too, even though this wasn’t hard for her, at least not like it was for you. It was easy to hold you when you cried. Easy to be there for you, to comfort you. To bring you plain toast and ice chips and to hand wash your tiny spoon so it was always ready. It was easy to hold back your hair while you vomited, to scrub the toilet every night so it’d be clean when you got up in the morning.

This was the hard part: watching you struggle, watching your body go through absolute hell, and not being able to do a thing about it. Somehow it was worse because you’d chosen to do it. For her. For the both of you, so that you could start a family. Emily had never realized what an immense sacrifice it was to grow a baby. You’d sacrificed your body, your time, your comfort, everything, to house this little human. It was humbling to watch.

When your sobs quieted to the occasional sniffle, she started running her fingers through your hair, matching the rhythm to your breath–or maybe it was the other way around.

“I’m so sorry you feel so bad, honey,” Emily said, her mouth pressed to the side of your head, trying to convey all the love and empathy and admiration she held for you. “Thank you for doing all this. For me and for us and for the little kidney bean. You’re amazing.”

You sat up, slowly reaching to grab the cup of ice chips.

“I thought we were calling her the blueberry?” you said, your voice still wavering, as you pressed the cool spoon experimentally to your lips.

Emily rubbed your back in gentle circles, her fingers cool and soothing from holding the ice chips. “Last week he was a blueberry. This week he’s the size of a kidney bean.”

You scrunched your eyebrows in thought, your hair a hornet’s nest, tiny little spoon poking out of your mouth. Emily beamed at you. Even now, when you felt your absolute shittiest, you were the most adorable person she’d ever clapped eyes on.

“So we’re just gonna change her nickname every week?”

“I mean, I am,” Emily decided, scooping a piece of ice out of your cup and crunching it in her mouth. “It helps me remember how big he is.”

You sighed, placing a gentle, protective hand over your stomach. Minus the puking and the insane hormones, it was still hard to believe there was a little human inside of you.

“You’re giving me a lot of shit, bean,” you said, directing your voice to your stomach. “You better be really cute.”

Emily leaned her head against your shoulder. “He’s made of you,” she observed. “How could he not be?”

You looked at her, feeling tears prickle at your eyes again. You huffed, sniffling and attempting to suck the tears back into your body.

“Ugh, stop being so romantic!” you exclaimed, smiling and wiping away a few rogue tears. You took her hand in yours, letting out a deep, shaky breath. “If you keep that up, I’ll never stop crying.”

“Anything for you,” she acquiesced. And you knew she meant it. She really would do anything for you. She’d go to the ends of the earth for you.

“Anything?”

“Mmhm,” she nodded.

“Even Ritz crackers?”

She laughed and kissed the side of your head before pushing herself to her feet. “One plate of Ritz crackers, coming right up.”

“My hero!” you called after her. And you meant it.

Week 9: The Grape

You wrestled against the apple slicer, standing on tiptoes to try to get enough leverage to break through. You were unreasonably angry at how much you were struggling. Leverage was usually an issue–you were short. But now your arms were weak and achy, too, like they were made of rubber.

Emily walked through the door, dropping her bag by the entryway and smiling at your struggling, tiptoed form.

“Need some help?” she asked, wrapping her arms around you from behind and kissing you on the cheek.

“No,” you huffed.

She raised her eyebrows at you.

You sighed. “Yes.”

“That’s what I thought,” she gloated, planting tiny, fluttering kisses all over your face and neck until you were giggling and your frustration had dissipated.

Emily maneuvered your body around so she could place her hands on either side of your face. She stared into your eyes for a moment before leaning down to kiss you. You didn’t know what she’d seen at work that day, what kind of gruesome, perverted crimes she was dealing with, but whatever it was, you could feel the stress of it, the darkness, seeping off and away as she relaxed into you. She kissed you eagerly, earnestly, as if you were a cool body of water after a long, dry journey.

When you ran out of air, you pulled away and pressed your head into her chest, wrapping your arms tightly around her. She exhaled heavily and carefully cradled the back of your head, resting her chin on top.

“You’re really great to come home to, you know that?” she told you, her voice vibrating around you as you hugged her.

“You want to talk about it?” you asked quietly, pulling away to look her in the eyes.

She shook her head. “No, not yet.”

You nodded and squeezed her hand. You wouldn’t push her to tell you, you never did. But she knew you were there to listen when she was ready to talk.

“Alright, let’s get you your snack,” she said, clearly wanting to move away from thinking about work.

You opened a cabinet, standing on tiptoes again to try and reach a jar of peanut butter.

“Hey,” Emily chastised, grasping at your reaching hand and squeezing it. “You go sit down. I’ll get it.”

“I can get my own snack, Emily,” you protested. You knew you were going to have to be less independent during your pregnancy, and it was a hard transition for you to make. You didn’t like depending on people, even Emily, though you were getting better about it the longer you were in a relationship with her.

“I know you can,” she said, pressing down the apple slicer as if it was nothing but a stapler. “But I like to take care of my wife.”

You couldn’t help but smile, blushing a little, as Emily peeled off one of the apple slices and popped it in your mouth.

“Now go sit down,” she ordered, playfully smacking your ass. You rolled your eyes but did as you were told. “Why don’t you queue up one of those animated shows you like so much? I’m not done with She-Ra yet, am I?”

Your face lit up like a Christmas tree. “Really!?”

She chuckled. “Yeah, of course. I gotta find out if they finally kiss.” She stared at you pointedly. “It seems like they should, right?” She was always trying to get you to reveal plot spoilers, and you were so gullible you often fell for it.

You raised your hands and shook your head as you plopped down on your corner of the couch.

“Listen, I’ll neither confirm nor deny any Sapphic plotlines.”

“Asshole,” she called, spooning peanut butter onto a plate with the apples.

She walked over to you, plate in hand, and sat down on the couch, raising her hands in the air so you could get into your normal TV-watching position.

You’d been embarrassed at first by how much you loved your head in Emily’s lap, how comfortable and safe it made you feel. For months when you’d first started dating, you’d always wait for her to pull you into her, breathing a sigh of relief when she finally did. Until one day, she’d sat down on the couch, lifted up her arms and said, “Come on, get in your spot.”

You rested your head in her lap, relishing the weight of her arms as she lowered them. You pressed play on She-Ra, and Emily passed you an apple slice dipped in peanut butter. You crunched happily. This was a good night for you. Your favorite show. Your favorite snack. Your favorite person. Almost no nausea!

Between apple slices, Emily ran her fingers through your hair. You hadn’t felt so relaxed in weeks. So relaxed you could almost…

“Hey,” Emily prompted, holding out an apple slice, but you didn’t answer. She looked down and brushed your hair out of your eyes to find you sound asleep. She smiled softly and ate the apple slice herself.

Emily loved watching you sleep. You always slept curled, your fist resting next to your face like a baby whose thumb had slipped out of its mouth in the middle of the night. She wondered briefly if the baby would sleep like that, too, and the thought gave her butterflies. She paused the show, knowing you’d be sad later if she watched it without you–you liked to watch her watch.

She scrolled through shows and movies, but finally gave up. All she wanted to watch was you. Her heart melted as you tensed and stretched a little in your sleep, your hand wrapping protectively around your stomach. She knew she should get up, should move you to the bed. She knew that once you got there, you’d curl right back into her. That she would wrap her arms tightly around you and bury her head in your neck and hold you and the baby. She’d hold you both so close, so careful and secure, and she’d sleep well knowing you were there next to her.

There was only one person in the world she trusted to keep her family safe, and that was her. Soon, she’d move you to the bedroom. Soon, she’d turn off the lights and arm the alarms and crawl into bed next to the love of her life and her unborn child. But for now–she just wanted to watch you, your hair through her fingers and the sound of your breathing grounding her to all that was good in the world.

#emily prentiss #emily prentiss x reader #emily prentiss x fem!reader #emily prentiss drabble #emily prentiss fluff #emily prentiss fanfic #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #hurt/comfort

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illdowhatiwantthanks · 5 days

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The Lentil & The Blueberry (The Surprise, Part 2)

Emily Prentiss x fem!reader Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI, NSFW, sex, fingering, mention of vomiting (for my emetophobia babies), established relationship, fluffity fluff, worried Emily has my whole heart Word Count: 1.6k

Summary: Weeks six and seven of your pregnancy are underway, and you are struggling. But maybe not as much as your wife? Wildly overprotective Emily will do anything to help you feel better during your pregnancy. And I mean anything. 😉

Week 6: The Lentil

Emily had known about the baby for less than 12 hours, and she’d already gone into full Overprotective Dad™ mode. You’d slept in the morning after telling her, jerking awake to find Emily towering over you, watching with her eyebrows furrowed.

“Jesus, Emily!” you exclaimed, stretching. “You scared me!” You glanced at the clock. “Don’t you have to be at work?”

Emily continued staring, a look of deep concern on her face. “I really don’t want to leave you here like this.”

For a brief moment, you forgot you were pregnant. You scoffed. “I’ve had jet lag before, babe. I think I’ll be okay.”

“No! Pregnant.” She sighed and sat on the edge of the bed, absentmindedly running her hands through your hair as you moved to rest your head on her lap.

“I’m fine, Em,” you assured her. “I’m a little tired and sore, but that’s probably just from moving.”

“Maybe I should call and tell them I can’t make it in today…” She was speaking more to herself than to you.

Your voice was stern, decisive. “You can’t take off work for nine months just to sit around and watch me be pregnant. Even if you could, I’d rather you take the nine months after the baby’s born.”

She sighed deeply, looking down at you as if she was making the hardest decision of her life.

“You promise to call me if you need anything?” she asked.

“Promise.”

She gently placed your head back on the pillow, then knelt down in front of the bed so her eyes were level with yours.

“Please don’t do anything stupid while I’m gone,” she whispered. You could tell she was trying to lighten the mood, to make herself feel better about going to work, but she was too worried about you for it to sound anything other than terrified and pitiful.

“Like what?”

“Ladders, lifting things, falling in the shower...”

“Well, I wouldn’t fall in the shower on purpose,” you argued.

“Just…” She leaned forward and kissed you so gently, so softly, running her thumb slowly along your brow bone. “Be careful. Be safe.” She stood, then leaned down to kiss you on the head one more time.

“I love you,” she said, then lifted up your shirt to kiss your stomach. “And I love you.” She shot you one last desperate, anxious look before leaving.

“Promise you’ll call?”

“Go, Emily.” You shooed her out of the room, laughing. Who would’ve guessed that managing your wife might be the hardest part of being pregnant?

Week 7: The Blueberry (18+)

You leaned back into Emily as the warm water swirled around you, the sound of the jets and the movement of the water soothing your aching body. Morning sickness had started in full force, and your abs were sore from mornings spent heaving over the toilet. Your head was killing you most of the time, and you were constantly bloated. All in all, the first trimester was kicking your ass.

Emily kissed your shoulder, pressing her face next to yours and wrapping her arms around you to gently cup your breasts, mindful of the pain you’d been experiencing.

You sighed contentedly as she ran a thumb lightly over your swollen nipple.

“Better?” she asked.

“Mmhm,” you nodded, eyes closed. When Emily had called this afternoon to check on you, you’d told her how gross you felt from puking all morning, how sore your body was. She’d stopped at Bath & Body Works on the way home to buy every single kind of bath bomb they sold, just to be sure you’d have a fragrance that didn’t make you feel sick. She’d brought Epsom salts and fancy body butters and a new candle because the one you usually had in the bathroom smelled like coffee, and coffee triggered your gag reflex right now. She’d come determined to do whatever it took to help you feel better.

“And to think you said paying more for an apartment with a fancy jacuzzi bathroom was, and I quote, fucking dumb.”

“I take it all back,” you said, whining softly and involuntarily pushing your hips forward as Emily continued circling your nipples, her touch light as a feather.

“Honey,” Emily breathed behind you. “You can say no, but…” Her breath was hot against your ear. “Can I touch you?”

Your body wanted it, but your mind was struggling. “I don’t know, Em…”

Emily gently turned your body around so she could look in your eyes, her thumbs running back and forth along your hands. She leaned close, placing a hand gently on your cheek.

“It’s okay if you really don’t want to, but..” She watched you squirm a bit under the water. “It feels like you do. Can you tell me what’s going on in your head?”

You avoided her eyes, following a stream of bubbles as it made its way around the tub. “I don’t feel very pretty…” you mumbled, looking away.

“What?” she said, and you couldn’t tell if she hadn’t heard you or if she couldn’t believe what you’d said.

“I don’t feel very pretty. I feel gross.”

“Y/N.” Her voice was heavy with love and care and you felt a little like crying, not because you were sad, but because she loved you so much it was overwhelming in your current hormonal state.

Emily pulled you onto her lap and wrapped her arms around your body, pressing kisses into your face and neck. “You are so pretty. What are you talking about?”

“I’m pukey and bloated and my hair is greasy because I’m too tired to shower,” you confessed, resting your head on her shoulder. “I feel disgusting.”

“Baby,” she said, chastising you and gently guiding your face so you had to look at her. “You’re beautiful. You’re growing a whole human right now. You’re incredible. You have never been more beautiful to me.”

Almost unconsciously, you started to grind your hips into Emily’s, your breath coming fast, rhythmic. You sighed, wrapping your arms tightly around her neck.

Emily grinned. The words were working! She left a trail of kisses along your shoulder, placing her hands on your hips to guide you.

“You are stunning, Y/N. You’re growing eyes for our baby this week, did you know that?" She thought for a moment, morbid curiosity getting the better of her. "I wonder what it looks like in there…”

You stopped abruptly, as if a record had been scratched. “Not sexy, Emily. I don’t want you thinking about what the inside of my uterus looks like.”

“Sorry,” she replied sheepishly, an embarrassed smile playing on her lips. You pressed your hands to the side of her face and kissed her, your body hungry for hers for the first time since you’d returned from London. You couldn’t get enough of her, couldn’t get close enough.

“Emily,” you said breathlessly, pulling away to look at her. She was nearly as out of breath as you were–and significantly more flushed. “Touch me.”

“You’re sure?”

“Please.”

You whimpered as Emily’s thumb brushed over your clit, the warm water soft and comforting around you. She rubbed slow, indulgent circles, sensitive to your sensitivity, and your hips rose to meet her each time, even as exhausted as you were.

She kissed you deeply, passionately, her tongue desperate and gentle as it roamed your mouth, your neck. You moaned into her as she slipped two fingers inside of you, your body pulsing urgently around her. She kept her hand still for the most part, letting you control how hard, how fast, how deep.

As your breath grew ragged and your body clenched, surging against Emily’s, she moaned into your mouth, pressing into you. “Oh, god,” you breathed, Emily’s sounds nearly driving you over the edge.

“Come on, baby,” she begged, gasping. “Come for me.”

You drove your hips into Emily as your body convulsed, whimpering while your orgasm washed over you like a waterfall of static electricity. She fucked you through it, only removing her fingers when your breath started to calm and you fell against her, spent.

“Feel better?” she asked, kissing the side of your head, and pushing a string of wet hair out of your face.

You nodded, still too out of breath to speak.

You dragged yourself into a sitting position a few minutes later. “Here,” you said, clearly exhausted. “Let me do you.”

“It’s okay,” Emily told you, grinning.

“I can,” you insisted, pulling her toward you for a kiss.

“No, Y/N,” she said, laughing a bit as she pulled away. “I’m good. As in, I already came.”

“What!?” You giggled, blushing a bit. “Jesus Christ, Em! You were horny as fuck.”

She blushed and kissed you again, then poured some shampoo into her hand and grabbed your head playfully. You sighed happily as she massaged it into your scalp.

“I can’t help it,” she shrugged. “Look at you. Your boobs are fucking huge right now.”

“Well, don’t get used to it.”

Emily stared at you for a minute. Your soapy head. Your arms crossed defiantly over your chest. The slight pouch in your stomach that she knew would grow into her child. The way your eyes shone, holding so much love, so much purity of spirit and heart. What had she done to deserve you? She felt tears forming at the corners of her eyes, and she used her thumb to wipe them away.

“Are you crying?!” you asked, leaning forward to take her hand in yours.

“I just love you so much,” she said, her voice heavy with emotion.

“Oh, god,” you complained, sniffling yourself. You had a hair trigger for crying these days. “If you cry I’m gonna cry.”

She exhaled firmly. “I’m pulling it together, don’t worry.”

“I love you, too,” you said quickly before dunking your head under the water to get rid of the suds. And because if you thought about it too much, you'd start sobbing and god knows when you'd stop.

You popped back up, flipping your hair over so you looked like a founding father. Emily laughed, and all was right in the world.

#emily prentiss #emily prentiss x reader #emily prentiss fanfic #emily prentiss fluff #emily prentiss smut #emily prentiss drabble #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic

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illdowhatiwantthanks · 5 days

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The Surprise (Part 1)

Emily Prentiss x fem!reader Warnings: mentions of sex, some explicit language, let me know if I need to add anything please! Word Count: 1.3k

Summary: Your life with Emily takes an unexpected turn when she steps in as Unit Chief of the BAU. It takes you about a month to pack up you and Emily's London flat and meet her in D.C. What she doesn't know is that you've brought back a surprise.

You collapsed into bed next to Emily, huffing and spent from a day of directing movers and unpacking boxes.

"You alright?" she asked, leaning over you to push your hair out of your face.

"Yeah," you breathed, closing your eyes. "Just tired."

"I am so–" She kissed your forehead. "Glad." Your cheek. "You're here." She pressed her lips into yours and you felt your whole body relax.

She kissed you hungrily, passionately, as if it'd been weeks and, well, you guessed it had. She started moving down your neck, and you groaned.

"Emily..."

"Mmhm?"

"I'm too tired for this."

"Even if you didn't have to do anything?" she said, her eyebrows raised.

You sighed, caressing her face. "You're very tempting, but I feel sweaty and gross and jet lag is kicking my ass. Tomorrow?"

"Of course," she said, planting one more kiss on your lips.

It was no secret in your relationship that, of the two of you, Emily had the higher sex drive. But she was always respectful, always made sure that you really wanted it. And if you didn't, she never, ever made you feel bad. It was one of the many reasons you loved her. And you'd both discovered that it only made the next time better.

You smiled, tucking her hair behind her ear. "Snuggles are okay, though."

"Just okay!?" she said, teasing you. She lay down and pulled you into her, and you rested your head on her chest, breathing deeply.

"More than okay," you whispered. "The best."

"I missed you so much," Emily said, placing a kiss on your forehead, and tracing the skin on your back underneath your shirt.

"I missed you, too."

After a few minutes, Emily spoke again, her voice quiet and somber.

"Thank you," she said.

"For what?"

"Uprooting yourself for me. Again."

You tilted your head to look at her. "I'd do it ten more times."

She held you just a little tighter after that.

"Oh!" you exclaimed suddenly, launching yourself out of her arms. "I forgot! I got you something."

"Oh, yeah?"

You pulled a folded sheet of paper out of your backpack and handed it to her, smiling mischievously. You crawled back into bed, sitting crosslegged as Emily propped herself up on her elbow to read what was on the page.

"Wow," she remarked, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "A blood test. How did you know?"

You shoved her. "Just read it, you dork."

Her eyes moved back and forth over the page. "HCG markers? Honey, you know I don't know what any of this means, right?"

You waited, holding your breath, nearly bursting with excitement.

"Gestationa–" Emily stuttered to a stop, her eyes growing wide. She turned quickly toward you. "Y/N, are you pregnant!?"

You nodded, beaming, your face flushed.

Emily's eyes were filling with tears, and you grabbed one of her hands in yours.

"No, you're not," she argued, fighting against hope as you nodded and nodded. "No, they said it didn't work. I called and talked the doctor myself."

You gasped. "We'll circle back around to the fact that you didn't trust what I told you about my IVF results later, but I don't want to mar our beautiful moment here."

"Y/N!" Emily exclaimed, looking at you, desperately hopeful and desperately scared at the same time. "It was negative...""

"It was a false negative," you told her, nearly giddy with the information. "I had them run it three times last week. It was positive every time."

A few tears dripped down Emily's cheeks and she sniffed, brushing them away and sitting up to grasp your face in her hands.

"You're pregnant," she said again, as if she still couldn't quite believe it.

"Yes." And the grin that broke out on Emily's face–giddy and hopeful and brimming with excitement–was the most beautiful her face had ever been to you.

"We're having a baby!"

"We're having a baby," you confirmed before she pressed her lips to yours, wrapping her arms around your neck.

She kissed the spot behind your ear, your cheek, the corner of your mouth. She kissed the bottom of your chin, your collarbone, then lifted up your shirt, laying her hands gently on your stomach and planting a kiss right in the middle.

"We're having a baby," she repeated, quietly, as if to the little clump of cells that would become your child.

And suddenly it was like a switch had been flipped in Emily, as if she'd moved from shock and disbelief to pure, unadulterated excitement.

"How big do you think he is right now!?" she asked, voice and eyes bright as she pressed her face into your stomach. She cut you off before you could say anything.

"Actually, hang on." She grabbed the sheet of paper from beside her and looked it over studiously, then started scrolling on her phone.

"So according to this, you're at six weeks," she observed.

"Mmhm," you confirmed, leaning back into the pillow and running your fingers through Emily's hair. "The due date's September 19."

Emily squealed. "Oh, honey, this says his little heart is developing!"

"Or her," you argued, but you were grinning ear to ear watching Emily. She was giddy, elated, happier than you'd ever seen her, and she was pretty damn happy with you. You pictured her next to you on the bed, so soon, cradling a baby. Your baby. Yours and hers. The thought gave you butterflies.

"And his little arms and legs and everything are starting to grow! Look at him, Y/N!" she continued, lifting her phone to show you what was essentially a concentrated cluster of organic matter. "He looks like a little shrimp!"

"Or she! Or they, we don't know!" you repeated, more emphatically this time.

"He's a boy, at least for now," Emily decided. She was so nonchalant, so sure about it, that it annoyed the hell out of you.

You scoffed. "How would you know that? You've known about the baby for maybe ten minutes."

She shrugged. "I'm a profiler. I know these things."

You scowled at her, incredulous. "You profiled our six-week-old fetus?"

"Uh-huh."

"Sure you did."

But Emily had already moved on. "He's the size of a lentil!"

You sighed, but you were happy at heart. Happier than you'd been in a long time. You were home with Emily. Back in the States. And there was a little tiny human coming soon.

"Oh, babe, this says morning sickness happens around now," Emily read, absentmindedly stroking your thigh. "Are you having that?"

"Not yet..."

"That's good." She kept reading. "What about... sore breasts?"

"Yes. So be gentle tomorrow please."

Emily grinned like an idiot and kept scrolling.

"Mood swings? Yes," she said.

"Hey!" you exclaimed, smacking her over the head with a pillow.

"Not in a bad way! It just... makes more sense now."

You hated yourself for it, but at that moment, tears flooded your eyes. Damn hormones.

"It's not my fault, Em!" you blubbered. Alarmed by your outburst, she threw her phone to the side and quickly moved to wrap you in her arms. "I just have a lot of feelings right now. And I'm sorry I'm so moody, but you know what? At least your body isn't the Grand Central Station of hormones!"

"Okay," Emily soothed, pulling you close and wiping tears from your cheeks. "Oh, baby, that's a lot of feelings. Just let it out."

You shook and cried, and you were sure you looked absolutely pitiful. You couldn't remember feeling anything so strongly before in your life. You hated it.

"I can't stop crying all the time. I cried with the movers. I cried on the plane, even, and the flight attendant came over to ask if I was okay. I hate crying, Em! And I hate talking to strangers!"

"I know you do," she said, smoothing your hair. "But you know what? I'm gonna be right here with you, okay? I'll talk to all the strangers. And you can cry all you need to."

You hiccuped a bit and leaned into her.

"And soon," she said, slipping a hand under your shirt to place it over your stomach. "There'll be a little tiny us here, and it'll all be worth it."

You exhaled deeply and pressed your face into her chest. "You better do whatever I want for the next eight months."

She chuckled. "I'll do my best, anyway. For you and the little guy."

"Or girl."

"Guy," she said to herself, so quietly you knew you weren't meant to hear it. You smiled anyway.

#emily prentiss #emily prentiss x reader #emily prentiss fanfic #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #emily prentiss fluff #emily prentiss drabble

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illdowhatiwantthanks · 7 days

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Don't Lie to Me

Emily Prentiss x fem!reader Warnings: life-threatening situations including a bomb and a Branch Davidians-style cult compound, established relationship, hurt/comfort, explicit language, slight emetophobia warning (nothing graphic) Word Count: 2.8k

Summary: You thought Emily was just going out on a typical case until you heard about the standoff at the religious compound. You knew her job was dangerous, but this is a whole new level of terrifying. And you can do nothing but wait. Takes place during S4.E3.

Emily stabbed at the last bit of scrambled egg on her plate and pointed it at you.

"I'd bet my life those kids are being abused," she said, chewing.

You took her plate to the sink, washing up from the early breakfast you'd made to send Emily off on a new case.

"I mean, isn't that kind of the whole point of cults?" you asked, scrubbing at the plates.

"It certainly seems like it." Emily walked over and placed an arm at the small of your back. "Thank you for breakfast. Do you need any help cleaning up?"

"No, I'm okay." You liked the repetitive nature of dishwashing. "You know," you thought out loud, "I was in a cult once."

Emily froze and stared at you, blazer halfway on. "What!?"

"Not that kind of cult. And I got out pretty quick. But... I did believe a lot of crazy things, and I was asked to do some illegal shit."

"Y/N, what!?" she said, slinging her go-bag over her shoulder, reluctant to leave. "What kind of crazy things?"

"Oh, I don't know," you said, drying your hands. "I carried anointing oil around for a while. And I thought shadows in corners were demons. Turns out that's just how light works."

Emily placed her hands on your shoulders, a slightly stunned expression on her face. "I have to go, but we will pick this up later because, Y/N, what!? A cult!?" She shook her head and kissed you, then once again on the forehead for good measure.

"It was just a little cult!" you joked, as she walked toward the door. "It's way easier to get dragged in than you'd think. I consider myself a pretty smart person, and even I fell for some of that bullshit."

"Mmkay," she said, leaning in the doorway. "Well, I'll do my best not to join a cult this week, but no promises."

You rolled your eyes at her. "I love you, Em. Be safe."

"Love you too, honey," she said. "See you in a few days."

You shook your head as the door shut behind her. You didn't tell many people about your "cult year," as you liked to call it, because it hadn't been nearly as extreme as most cults were and because you'd gotten out quickly. But, god, you'd believed in some stupid things. The confluence of moving to a new place, developing a severe mental illness, and falling wildly in love with the girl who was second in command had been a perfect recipe for cultish devotion. No matter. You'd made it out. And, well, fool me twice...

______________________________________________________________

Part of the beauty of working from home is that you could do whatever you wanted most of the day–no pants, no bra, watching the news or TV during lunch, calling Emily whenever you wanted.

You made yourself a sandwich and sat on the couch, turning on the news so that you could fiddle around with your laptop but still have some background noise.

You were scrolling through an article on the best laundry detergents when the reporter mentioned something about La Plata County. You glanced up and turned up the volume. Wasn't that where Emily and Spencer were?

"What is reportedly being called a routine questions and answers meeting by Colorado Child Services has turned into a violent and deadly standoff between Colorado authorities and a fringe religious group known as the Separatarian Sect. The raid on the compound..."

Your heart started to pound. Maybe you'd gotten the name of the county wrong, and Emily wasn't even close. But she had said she was visiting a religious compound and that she was going with Children's Services...

Breathing rapidly, you pulled out your phone and called Emily. Straight to voicemail. You called her again. No answer. You tried to calm yourself down–no need to panic until you knew for sure. You sent Emily a quick text:

Hey love💕 You haven't been forced into a Waco situation have you? The news is going CRAZY. Please text or call when you get a second so I know you're okay. I love you❤️

You moved your work stuff into the living room, piling it on the coffee table and keeping the volume on the news up. You felt sick to your stomach, but tried to stay calm. There was no reason to think Emily was there. Colorado was a huge state. Probably dozens of religious sects. Why would she be at that one? But the longer you went without a text or call from Emily, the more anxious you grew.

______________________________________________________________

You managed to make it about three hours before losing your goddamned mind with worry. You texted Emily again, called her again, left her an angry voicemail about how people shouldn't worry their girlfriends like this, all with no response. You'd tried Derek, too, but no luck.

Your leg bounced up and down, and you could feel tears forming at the corners of your eyes. You found one of Emily's sweatshirts in the hamper and pulled it over your shirt, balling yourself up on the couch and breathing in the scent of her. She's okay, you told yourself over and over. She's okay, she's okay, she's okay.

A breaking news alert on the TV prompted another update on the La Plata County situation. Your head shot up, and you turned the volume up, not wanting to miss a thing.

"...tactical team into a forced retreat after losing a 30-minute gun battle with sect members. Nobody knows for sure how many people are inside, but it is believed that at least three of the child service members are still trapped in the compound."

You didn't sleep that night. Not even for a moment. You sat on the couch late into the night, waiting for updates on the standoff. With each hour that passed without contact from Emily, you were more and more sure that it was her and Spencer in the compound. You'd tried calling a few more times, but the calls seemed pointless, knowing where she was. You'd waited until a decent hour the next morning to call other team members again–Derek, Penelope, JJ. No one had answered, and you'd only grown more terrified. You were scared to know for sure, but you needed to.

You looked down at your phone and took a deep breath, looking at the one number you'd resisted calling so far: Hotch. You knew Emily'd given you his number for emergencies only, but what was this if not an emergency?

The phone dialed for a few moments before picking up.

"Hotchner."

"Where is she!?" you demanded, all the emotion and fear you'd been putting off for the last day rushing to the forefront.

"Y/N," he sighed, and you could tell just by his voice. "She's–"

"Don't lie to me, Hotch! She's in that compound, isn't she?"

Hotch's words were calm, determined. "We're gonna get her out."

"Don't lie to me." Your voice shook, tears slipping down your face.

"Y/N, I swear to you, I will get her out."

"Okay," you whispered, feeling small and scared.

"I'll call as soon as I can to let you know she's okay, but it's gonna take some time."

"Thank you." You dashed tears from your eyes, sniffling.

"Of course."

The line clicked off and you sat in stunned silence for a few minutes, watching the repeated footage of the compound flash by on the TV. Emily was in there. Emily was in there. And there wasn't a damn thing you could do about it.

You paced back and forth for a while, waiting and waiting for news updates, then decided that all this waiting was futile. If Emily couldn't get home to you, you'd go to her. You booked yourself on the next flight to Durango, packed just the essentials, and ran out the door, filling Sergio's bowl and making a mental note to text a friend to check in on him if you were gone for more than a day or two.

______________________________________________________________

The hours you were in the air–with nothing but shitty airplane WiFi service–were the worst for you. You refreshed the live news page over and over again, terrified that at any moment, you'd hear news of a mass death.

When you finally got to Durango that night, you drove the rental car as close to the compound as you could, but ATF had it locked down for miles. For now, this was a close to Emily as you could get.

You booked a nearby hotel and, still wrapped in Emily's sweatshirt, sat moon-faced and bleary-eyed on the edge of the bed, watching the news, and waiting, waiting, waiting.

You'd nearly drifted off to sleep when the room filled with a blinding white-orange light. Your eyes grew wide as you watched the screen. The compound went up in flames, debris flying far and wide.

"Oh my god," you said, covering your mouth. "Oh my god."

You ran to the bathroom and vomited, then sat on the cool floor, shaking. You coughed as you hyperventilated, unable to get enough air into your lungs. You wrapped your hands around your head, rocking. There was no way. No way someone would have survived an explosion like that.

You felt like your heart was being ripped apart. It was the hope that hurt the most. The maybe she hadn't been in there? But almost certainly she was. Maybe she was okay? But probably she wasn't. Most likely, she didn't even exist anymore, had gone up in smoke with the rest of the compound, the thought of which made you vomit again. You couldn't fathom it, couldn't envision a world without Emily. You needed her. You hunched on the floor of the hotel room, leaning into the bed, and waited. Waited for news of Emily's death. You hoped that Hotch would call you first. It'd be so much easier to hear it from him, but the reporters were like vultures, and they often got the news first.

______________________________________________________________

At the compound, a deeply battered Emily, now running out of adrenaline, leaned heavily on Hotch as he walked her to an ambulance.

"You don't have to come with me," she told him, her voice gravelly. "It's not that bad."

"Prentiss, you can barely walk," Hotch protested, watching in concern as she winced climbing into the ambulance. "I wish you'd get on a stretcher."

"I am on a stretcher." Emily gave him a little wave from where she now lay, an EMT strapping her in and taking her vitals.

"I meant before now." Hotch smiled slightly. His team was beat up, but they'd be okay.

He pulled out his phone, scrolling through his contacts. "You need to make a call," he told Emily, putting the phone on speaker as it dialed.

"Oh, god," Emily groaned. "She's gotta be worried sick."

When you picked up, your voice was timid, rough with emotion.

"Hotch?" you whispered, terrified of what he might tell you.

"Hi, honey," Emily said, her voice heavy with love and exhaustion. It hit her, all of a sudden, that there was a good chance she might not have made it out. That she would never have seen you again. The thought brought tears to her eyes.

"Em!" you cried between sobs. "Are you okay!? Are you hurt!?"

"I'm a little banged up, but I'll make it."

"You scared the shit out of me!" you yelled, equal parts furious at her for putting her life in danger and relieved that she was okay. Emotions tumbled through your body like ocean waves.

Emily smiled and wiped a few tears from under her eyes. "I know. I'm sorry."

"Is Spencer there? Is he okay, too?"

Emily exhaled shakily. "Yeah, he's fine. We're all fine."

"Where are you?"

"Uh, in an ambulance."

"Which hospital are they taking you to?" you asked, pulling on your shoes and grabbing your keys off the hotel desk.

"Mercy?" Emily said, repeating what the EMT told her.

"I'll meet you there."

"No, honey, you don't need to come all the way here," Emily protested. "I'm okay. I'll be home in a few days."

"I'm already here, Em. Don't even try to fight me on this."

"You're here!? In Colorado?!"

"At a hotel. As close to the compound as I could get."

"You came?" Emily confirmed, her voice quiet, like she couldn't quite believe someone would love her enough to be there.

"Emily," you breathed. "Of course I did."

A few tears escaped Emily's eyes, and Hotch looked away.

"Now," you said, clearing your throat and trying to pull yourself together. "Please, please, let the doctors take care of you. I'll be there soon, okay?"

"Okay," she sniffled.

"I love you."

"I love you, too," Emily said, before hanging up and handing the phone back to Hotch.

The EMT handed her a paper towel to use as a tissue and she laughed, dabbing at her eyes and nose. "Thanks," she said.

Hotch smiled, watching her.

"What?" she said.

"She really loves you."

"I know."

______________________________________________________________

At the hospital, Emily heard you before she saw you. You were the first thing she heard after waking up from surgery, and she couldn't help but smile. You were giving the nurses a run for their money, which was saying something. You were usually so patient, so accommodating. Not today.

"Look," you railed at the nurse's station. "I've been in the waiting room for hours! I have been awake for three days straight, and my girlfriend has been a cult hostage that whole time! I am not in the mood to be held hostage too! Take me to her now, or I swear to god I will get the fucking FBI director on the line."

Emily's face brightened when you came in the room, but yours fell. She looked awful. Her face was bruised and swollen, bandages covered her body, and her arm was in a cast.

"Oh, Em," you said, your voice breaking, as you grabbed her hand, pressing your palm gently to her cheek.

"I'm okay." But she wasn't, and you could tell.

"It's okay, baby," you reassured her, running your fingers gently through her hair. "You don't have to be okay now, alright? I'm here. I'm here to take care of you."

Her breath hitched, and you could tell she was fighting off tears. It broke your heart. She always felt like she needed to be strong. It was time to let someone else be strong for a change.

You lowered the railing of the hospital bed, and lifted yourself in, gently pulling Emily into you. She grasped desperately at your shirt and fought off sobs.

"Shh," you whispered, cradling her head. "Let it out, love. I'm right here. You're safe now."

You held her while she cried, heartbroken that she'd been so scared and so hurt and, yet, proud that she handled it like no one else in the world could. And for neither the first time nor the last, you felt the immense weight and honor of being someone Emily Prentiss felt safe enough to break down with.

When she quieted, you rocked her and held her and placed small, gentle kisses on her head, trying to convey all your love for her, all your protectiveness toward her through osmosis.

You remembered, quite suddenly, the last conversation you'd had before Emily left, about cults.

"I told you," you whispered, giggling.

"Told me what?"

"That it was easy to get dragged into a cult."

"That is not the same," Emily argued, playfully shoving you. "I was held hostage. You were just dumb."

"Ouch."

"You didn't hoard weapons or anything, did you?"

"No," you scoffed. "Of course not."

"Well, what'd you do?" she pressed.

"What do you mean?"

"You said you did some illegal shit in the cult, so what did you do?"

"Oh," you laughed. "Nothing too serious. We bugged some people's rooms, recorded conversations."

"...Why?"

"We thought they were in cahoots with the devil."

Emily laughed, then grabbed her ribs, wincing. "'Cahoots with the devil!?' God, I'm so glad I found you after your religious days."

"What can I say? You get the very best of me."

Emily beamed up at you, pulling you down by your collar to kiss you. You stayed gentle and soft, mindful of her split lip and bruised face.

You held your forehead to hers, breathing in her scent. That familiar Emily scent that you'd been so sure you'd never get again.

"Don't ever scare me like that again," you whispered.

"I won't," Emily said, burying her face in your chest.

"Don't lie to me."

You felt her smile into your skin. "I'll try."

You sighed and grinned. "I guess that'll do. But only because I love you so much."

#emily prentiss #emily prentiss x reader #emily prentiss x fem!reader #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #emily prentiss fanfic #emily prentiss one shot #emily prentiss drabble

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illdowhatiwantthanks · 8 days

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Shelter from the Storm

Emily Prentiss x fem!reader Warnings: past weather/storm trauma, tornadoes (nothing wild, there just is one kind of nearby), established relationship, hurt/comfort, fluff for days Word Count: 0.9k

Summary: There are tornado warnings, and you're terrified. Emily comes home and helps make it better.

You knew what the sirens meant. You’d known since you were a little girl, huddled in a closet with blankets and pillows and your mom’s arms wrapped around you. Since your dad at the storm door, clothes flapping in the wind, while your mom screamed, “Get in here! It’s coming!” You associated the sirens with the scent of fear, the sound of trains, with homes leveled to the ground–every home on the street but yours.

Heart beating rapidly, you dashed into the bathroom, throwing a quilt and blankets into the empty tub. The power flickered off, leaving you in complete darkness. You felt panic rising in your lungs, but sprinted to the bedroom to scoop up Sergio, who was hiding under the nightstand. You slammed the bathroom door shut, sat in the tub, and placed Sergio next to you, where he curled into one of the pillows. Shaking, you covered yourself with the quilt and placed a pillow over your head. You knew what to do. But you also knew that if the tornado really did hit you, none of it would matter anyway.

You weren’t a praying person, but you hoped with everything in you that Emily had made it to Quantico before the storms had gotten this bad. Or, even better, that the pilot had delayed their flight and avoided it altogether. You’d left your phone in the other room, so you couldn’t check, and you weren’t about to leave the bathtub safety cocoon you’d created.

You weren’t sure how long you sat there in the dark, your breath heavy and desperate and hot underneath the quilt and the pillows. You could still hear the claps of thunder, so powerful they shook the building. You could see the blue-white of lightning underneath the door. So you stayed hidden, uncovering your face every few minutes to take in greedy gasps of breath, each one only making your anxiety grow. Your fists were clenched so hard that there were little half-moons forming in your palms. You were exceedingly thankful for Sergio’s warm body pressed against yours.

You yelped when you heard a knock on the bathroom door, peeking an eye out from under the quilt to see Emily walk in and kneel in front of the tub, her face illuminated by a candle she set on the counter. You were equal parts relieved and infuriated.

“How you doing, honey?” she asked gently, pushing the quilt off of your head to reveal a very red, tear-stained face.

“Did you drive here in this!?” Your voice wasn’t nearly as authoritative as you wanted it to be. Really, you just sounded scared. You were shaky and weak from anxiety. “There are tornadoes, Em!”

“It’s just stormy now,” she reassured you, running her thumb along your eyebrow as she cupped your face. “No more tornadoes. I didn’t drive until I was sure they were over.”

“There could be more.” Your voice was barely more than a whisper.

“Well, why don’t we wait in bed instead of in the bathtub? Since the tornado warning’s over for now.”

A large boom of thunder shook the house and you gasped, shrinking back into the quilts and pillows.

“Come on, honey,” Emily said, taking your hand and gently pulling you to your feet. “I’ll keep you safe, I promise.”

You let Emily guide you to the bedroom, where she’d shut the blackout curtains so you couldn’t see the lightning. There were several candles lit across the room, bathing it in a warm glow. It’d be romantic if you weren’t terrified.

Emily was so soft with you, so gentle as she removed your glasses and set them on your nightstand. Gentle as she pulled the covers up over your shoulders. Gentle as she climbed into bed next to you and pulled you into her chest, covering your ears with her hands when you jumped at another peal of thunder.

“Shh,” she said over and over again, her breath warm and comforting against your forehead. “It’s okay. I know it’s scary, but you’re okay. I’m right here. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

You felt your heart rate slow down, the air return to your lungs in big, painful gulps. Adrenaline seeped out of you as if through a sieve, leaving you spent and exhausted.

Emily watched as you struggled to keep your eyelids open and smiled softly. If you could just go to sleep, you’d be fine. She ran a finger slowly across your brow bone and down the bridge of your nose, over and over, knowing it was impossible for you to keep your eyes open when she did.

“Are you trying to put me to sleep?” you accused, eyelids fluttering.

“Mmhm.”

“What if there’s another tornado?” you protested, but she could tell you were losing the fight.

“I’ve got the volume on the alerts turned all the way up, okay? I promise I will wake you up if I need to. Just go to sleep, honey. Everything’s gonna be alright.”

Her heart swelled as she watched you fight sleep and lose. Your chest rose and fell rhythmically, and she felt an aching, almost desperate love for the way your body curled toward hers, for your now limp hand that was wrapped around hers and held close to your face, so close she could feel your breathing.

She adjusted the covers once more, making sure you’d be warm but not smothered, then wrapped an arm protectively around you, planting a soft kiss on your forehead. The weather channel, Emily knew, had all but promised that the threat of tornadoes would be minimal for the rest of the night. But she also knew that if one happened to spring up, if it happened to come your way, if it happened to rip the roof off your house, to plow its way through your room, that she would not hesitate to cover your body with hers.

#emily prentiss #emily prentiss x reader #emily prentiss x fem!reader #storm comfort #hurt/comfort #emily prentiss fluff #emily prentiss drabble #emily prentiss fanfic #emily prentiss one shot #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic

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illdowhatiwantthanks · 8 days

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Emily Prentiss x Reader Headcanons

Mostly SFW, but a few lil spicy ones throughout (below the line).

Chews on pens/pencils when she's anxious or deep in thought and it's inexplicably hot.

Has a glass of very nice, very expensive red wine every night.

Fluent in Arabic, French, Spanish, and Italian. Passable in Russian.

Seems quiet and mysterious at first but is actually just a huge dork.

Breaks down crying every time before starting her period and will say, "I'm sorry, I don't know why I'm so emotional today," and you're like... "Babe, don't you start tomorrow?"

Usually a no-strings-attached-sex kind of person, mostly because relationships are hard with her job. You're the exception.

Will fold like a wet napkin for nice chocolate.

Notorious for ghosting lol. Sometimes even used a fake name. A bad habit from her undercover days.

Not subtle at all when coming on to you. Pretty much asked you for a date out of the blue.

Loves that you can talk about the deep, dark stuff, but can also make her laugh like no one else.

If for any reason you wake up in the night–stomachache, nightmare, scary storm–she is up with you. She'll claim she can't sleep either, but really she just wants to hold you and make sure you get back to sleep okay.

Watches you breathe at night. She finds it deeply comforting.

Takes you once a year to her grandfather’s cottage in the French Alps, where she spent a lot of time growing up.

Grew up Catholic. She’s not religious anymore, but sometimes she still likes to listen to old hymns and chants, like they had at the mass she and her mom attended in Italy.

Opens every door for you always. In fact, she’ll be hurt if you don’t let her open the door.

An incredibly good listener. She loves hearing about your day, no matter how mundane it was, because her days are usually filled with the darkest, most horrific things.

Has two tattoos. (1) On her ankle. A word from the Qur’an (لِّتَسۡكُنُوۡۤ) that roughly translates to “that you may find tranquility.” She got it in Italy when she started to realize she liked girls, because girls were the only people in whom she ever found tranquility. (2) On her hip. A small asterisk a la Kurt Vonnegut.

Insanely protective. She will not let anyone touch you, say anything to you, even look at you with nefarious intentions.

Has a little note on her phone where she writes down your favorite things–takeout, flowers, ice cream flavors, the brand of tampons you use–so she'll always remember.

“Call me when you get there.” Has to know where you are at all times. You gave up arguing and just constantly have your phone location shared with her. It’d be suffocating except that, given her job, it makes sense.

Loves that you are so independent. She’s watched too many BAU relationships fall apart because their partner was frustrated with the demanding BAU work schedule. You don’t really mind. Of course, you miss her, but you also really like your alone time, so things balance out nicely.

Puzzle fiend. There’s almost always a puzzle going on the coffee table.

Queen of leaving people on read. It’s nothing personal, it’s just that texts usually fall by the wayside when she’s in the field.

Secretly loves it so much when you brag about her. She’ll act all embarrassed about it, but it means a lot that you’re proud of her.

A hipster in the sense that if something is popular, she automatically decides she doesn’t like it. You make fun of her a lot for this.

Falls in love with you every time she notices one of your little gestures–having a second go-bag packed and ready at all times, doing the laundry, packing little granola bars in her purse because you know she forgets to stop for lunch, returning books to the library for her, etc.

Incredibly stubborn. Thankfully, you are, too, so you’re well-matched. On the downside, sometimes it takes forever to make a decision because neither of you are willing to back down.

Swears like a sailor when she’s not at work.

Kind of quiet with other people, but will talk with you late into the night, until you fall asleep. You love that you get to fall asleep to her voice.

Touches you like you’re made of gold, like you were made to be cherished and held on to.

Cheek/nose/forehead kisses. all. the. time.

Kisses you good morning and good night, every time, no matter when she gets home or when she leaves.

You would never guess it, but she lives for gossip. She doesn’t want to be part of the drama, but she sure as hell wants to know about it.

Drives her wild (in bed and out) that you are 100% hers. It is not in your nature to cheat, you are wholly devoted to your person, and she is over the moon that she’s that person.

Acts like a top, is a top.

Can drink coffee at midnight and be conked out twenty minutes later.

After a particularly hard case, she’ll come home and want to just hold you really tight against her chest, sometimes for an hour or more. You always let her.

Big spoon, always. She likes to feel like she’s keeping you safe.

Favorite food is the sweet potato burrito from Muchas Gracias, but they only have them at lunch and she is never in DC at lunchtime, so sometimes you go buy her one and pack it for her for lunch the next day. It makes her day every time.

Honestly it’s a struggle when you have to get up before her because she has you in a ninja death grip that is almost impossible to get out of.

Her feet are always cold, so she has a huge collection of fuzzy socks.

Movie buff. Has a giant checklist of all the Oscar noms during awards season, and you watch one almost every night she’s home.

Loves to shower with you. You will get clean, but you’ll get fucked first.

A wizard with a wand (iykwim).

She still gets butterflies when you hold hands.

#emily prentiss #emily prentiss x reader #criminal minds #emily prentiss fanfic #criminal minds fanfic #emily prentiss hcs #emily prentiss headcanons #criminal minds headcanons #criminal minds hcs

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illdowhatiwantthanks · 9 days

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Strap Up

Amelia Shepherd x fem!reader Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI, pure unadulterated smut, strap, sex (duh), I'm really bad at labeling smut for warnings so just tell me if I'm missing something and I'll add it, explicit language, NSFW Word Count: 2k

Summary: You and Amelia decide to use a new toy for the first time. How will it go? (Hint: it goes really well.)

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Amelia asked, running a hand through your hair.

“I’m sure,” you assured her, pulling her down to your mouth for a kiss. Your hands ran wild over her body, desperate for more. You felt Amelia sink into you, her thumbs at the edges of your eyebrows as she deepened the kiss.

“I just–” she stuttered, pulling away. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Amelia.” You grasped her chin in your hands and looked at her, hard. “Just strap up and fuck me.”

She exhaled deeply, letting her eyes roam all the way down your body.

“If you’re sure…”

She got out of bed and started pulling on the strap she’d prepared earlier, at your request.

You lounged, hands folded behind your head, and watched, trying not to laugh.

“What?” she asked, adjusting the straps while you stared at her.

You giggled. “It just looks kind of silly!”

She grinned mischievously and crawled toward you on the bed. “Y/N Y/L/N! Are you laughing at my dick?!”

You chuckled and squirmed as she tickled you, pinning you under her body. “Penises are objectively funny!” you argued.

Amelia kneaded your breasts in her hands, slipping her tongue into your mouth. You let out an involuntary whine and she smiled into your lips. She bit your ear and you couldn’t help but arch your back.

“We’ll see how funny you think it is when you’re coming,” she whispered, her breath hot in your ear.

You cradled the back of her neck, grabbing the hair at her nape and jerking it slightly. She moaned, her eyes fluttering shut.

“Make me then,” you said, your eyes meeting her deep, blue ones. God, you could lose yourself in them.

Amelia ran her tongue down your throat, planting open-mouthed kisses along your collarbone. You felt like you were floating as she made her way lovingly down your body. It wasn’t that she was always gentle–she wasn’t. And you usually had the marks on your body to prove it. It was that she was reverent, almost worshipful. It was as if she lost herself in you. And there was nothing that drove you crazier than the feeling of her, the weight of her, on top of you.

It’s not that you minded giving. You really enjoyed it. You were a switch to your core. But Amelia? Amelia was a giver. And, god, you loved to let her. Whatever she needed to do to you, with you, to get you off–and therefore get herself off–you were down for it. At least, except for the strap. Until tonight.

Amelia ran her fingers through your slick folds and you moaned, pushing your hips toward her. She circled your clit with one hand and brushed your bangs out of your face with the other.

“Are you ready?” she asked, looking at you with so much love, so much concern that, honestly, you would have done anything for her. You nodded, lightly stroking her thigh.

“Okay.” She planted a firm kiss on your forehead before brushing the tip of her strap against your glistening entrance, making sure to coat it with plenty of lube.

You whined in anticipation, your chest already heaving. Okay, so maybe you were a little nervous. The only things you’d ever had inside of you were fingers and tampons. And the strap Amelia was wearing, though it was one of the smallest she owned, was still significantly bigger than either of those things.

You felt your body start to stretch as Amelia slowly pushed the head of the strap into you. You groaned as the pain hit you, grabbing at the bedsheets with your fists and clenching your jaws.

“Are you okay? Do you want me to stop?” Amelia asked, concerned. You could tell by the rough tenor of her voice that she was very turned on, but that she would turn it off just as quickly if that’s what you needed.

You shook your head, eyebrows furrowed. “No, keep going. Just… slow, please.”

Amelia nodded, guiding the strap into you at a snail’s pace, ready to stop moving whenever you said the word. But she felt overwhelmingly aroused watching her strap disappear into you. You were so tight. It had to hurt, she knew. She remembered her first time. It had hurt badly. More because it was a dumb boy who didn’t give a shit about what felt good for her. She wanted it to be different for you. She wanted it to be good. She wanted to make you feel good.

Amelia pushed slowly forward with her hips, watching you closely for any signs that you wanted to stop. When her hips finally hit yours, when she was fully inside you, she let out a shaky gasp. It was taking everything in her not to start thrusting into you, but she wouldn’t do it, not until she was sure you were ready for it.

Your face underneath her was red, and the occasional tear rolled down the side of your face. Taking advantage of this soft moment, relishing being inside of you, Amelia leaned forward, pressing her body into yours, and planted kisses all over your scrunched, burning face.

“You’re doing so good, bean,” she breathed, her own breath heavy and desperate. “Are you okay?”

You nodded, still getting used to the feeling of being filled. You’d be lying if you said it didn’t hurt. It did hurt–badly. But it felt good, too, inexplicably good. You felt your walls contracting and releasing and pulsing around Amelia’s strap and you knew, even through the pain, that you wanted more.

You pushed your hips up experimentally and a wave of pleasure rolled over you as the strap hit at a new angle.

Amelia grinned at you, kissing you to swallow your moan.

“Amelia,” you said, breathing heavily.

She brushed a sweaty strand of hair out of your face. “Yeah, baby?”

“Go ahead,” you nodded.

“Go ahead?” she confirmed, grinning goofily.

“Fuck me,” you told her, then thought better of it and grabbed her hand. “Gently, please.”

She leaned down, cupping your face in her hands and staring into your eyes lovingly. She pressed her mouth to yours, and you felt her hips move, the strap slowly moving out of you, then thrusting inward, hitting parts of you that you didn’t even know could be hit.

You gasped in both pain and pleasure, grasping at Amelia’s back for dear life as she moved in and out, in and out. When you managed to open your eyes, you saw that Amelia was watching you intently, no doubt solving you like a puzzle to figure out what you liked and what you didn’t. She was a woman of science, after all.

It was as if your body was out of your control, as if it knew what you needed more than your brain did. Your hips bucked up to meet Amelia’s, your back arching, arms pulling her into you for more, more, more.

Amelia was moaning by now, too, the strap hitting just right against her clit as you pulled her hips to yours. You could tell she was trying hard to keep control of herself when what she really wanted was to chase her high. You knew Amelia’s body like the back of your hand. The way she got there was fast and hard, and she was doing her level best to put off her own pleasure and make sure you were comfortable and enjoying yourself.

You felt the space underneath your stomach tighten, and you knew you were close. You could feel your body pulsing, feel it tightening around Amelia as if it, too, just like your mind and soul, never wanted to let her go.

“Amy,” you gasped, your voice shaky.

She looked down at your wide eyes, relishing the way your breath came faster and faster, the way your body squirmed desperately against hers.

“I need you deeper,” you pleaded. “All the way in. Please, as far as you can go.”

Her brow furrowed. “Are you sure?” she asked, her breath heavy, a light coat of sweat shining on her face. “It might hurt.”

“Please,” you begged, wrapping your legs around her waist to draw her further in.

She didn’t need any more encouragement. Wrapping her arms around your body, she shoved into you as deep as she could, grasping at you, pulling you to her to deepen the thrust, then repeating the motion, again and again, until even she couldn’t control it anymore. She rutted into you, as desperate for release as you were, and nearly as close.

Amy’s head was next to yours, her arms around your neck as she pulled at you, shoving herself deeper, deeper. You were close, you were so close. Amy let out a strangled moan, her breath hot on your ear, and you were coming undone. You gasped and moaned, your hips jerking into her, nails digging into her back, as you yelled her name. “Amy!” you cried. “Fuck!” It felt like it would never end, waves of bliss washing over you, hard and rhythmic and so, so good.

Amelia’s hips rocked against yours, and she kissed you again and again. Your mouth, your eyelids, your nose, your eyebrows. She gasped, pushing herself harder into you.

“I'm close, baby,” she said, shakily.

“Hey,” you said, still out of breath, grasping her chin. “I want you to come inside me.”

Amelia laughed breathily, trying to get enough oxygen in to finish what she’d started. “You know this isn’t a real dick, right?”

“You know what I mean,” you said, guiding her hips with your hands, so that she pushed harder into you. “Come on, baby. Come for me.”

Her breath became more and more frantic, her hips jerking the strap in and out, in and out of you. You could tell by the way her breath caught that she was about to topple over the edge, so you held her tightly, pushing your own hips forward to meet hers. She gasped, thrusting into you as she rode out her high, the strap jerking sporadically into you as it matched her rhythm.

You’d never felt closer to her in your life than you did then, as she lay on top of you, completely spent, covered in sweat, face beet red, her strap still resting inside you. You wanted this forever. You wanted Amelia, always and forever. Inside you. Around you. Touching you. Laughing with you. Kissing you. Sleeping next to you. All of it, always.

You let out another tired moan as Amelia slid the strap out of you, unbuckling the harness and throwing it to the side. She crawled up your body and lay down next to you, both of you a sweaty mess on top of the sheets, breathing heavily. She shot you a cheesy grin, and you couldn’t help but smile back.

“What?” you said, turning your body toward her and running a hand through her sweaty hair.

“Still think the strap is silly?” She smirked, a shit-eating look of absolute triumph on her face.

You chuckled. “The strap, no. Penises, yes.”

“How do you feel?” She traced the freckles on your arm. By now, she knew where all of them were. She probably even knew how many.

You exhaled. “Blissed out. Uh… stretched out, too. Probably sore tomorrow.”

Amelia nodded. “But you liked it?”

You placed a hand on your forehead, blushing at the memory. “So much. I feel like that Madonna song.”

“Like a virgin,” Amelia sang, tickling you, her voice wildly off key. “Touched for the very first time.”

You grabbed her hands, giggling. “Alright, Madonna. Shower?”

She kissed your cheek firmly before rolling out of bed. “Like a vi-i-i-irgin.” You rolled your eyes as Amelia’s voice faded into the background, mixing with the sounds of running water as she turned the shower on. “When your heart beats… next to mine.”

#amelia shepherd #amelia shepherd x reader #amelia shepherd x fem!reader #amelia shepherd fanfic #amelia shepherd smut #strap on smut #grey's anatomy

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illdowhatiwantthanks · 10 days

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Let Me Keep You Safe

Emily Prentiss x fem!reader Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI, mentions of child sexual abuse, flashbacks, panic attacks, PTSD, hurt/comfort, some explicit language Word Count: 2.5k

Summary: When Emily works a case that hits a little too close to home–a little too close to you–she has a hard time keeping her emotions in check. Takes place during S3.E5.

Your heart beat rapidly, desperately, as Emily pressed her lips into yours, hands roving over your body, the weight of her on top of you giving you just the right amount of resistance as you pushed your hips against her.

You moaned into her mouth and she grinned, grabbing your face and kissing you more, deeper, harder, until you could barely breathe.

You snaked one of your hands down the waistband of her shorts, and she grabbed your wrist.

"Nope," she said, smiling, snatching up both your hands and holding your wrists together with one of hers. "Not this time," she said, kissing each of your knuckles. "This time, I take care of you and you..." You gasped as she slammed your wrists above your head, pinning them in place. "You stay still for me."

The moment your hands hit the bed above your head, it was like you'd been transported to another dimension, into a nightmare. You blinked rapidly, looking around, the layers of the world around you like a Viewfinder caught between slides. Emily's room, then the elementary school gym equipment closet. You coughed, feeling bile rise in your throat. You could smell the stale sweat, the rubber of the basketballs, the Juicy Fruit in the gym coach's mouth as he leered over you. You felt the gym mat–such a poor barrier between you and the hard tile floor–at your back, the coach's rough hands, huge against your tiny wrists, pinning your hands in place above your head. He sat on your legs as you tried to squirm away, shaking, tears leaking down your face as he roughly pulled down your shorts.

"Stop!" you yelled. "Stopstopstopstop."

In one layer of your brain, you saw Emily release your hands immediately, sitting up and holding them away from you, a concerned look on her face.

You breathed heavily and sat up, pulling your knees to your chest.

"What's wrong?" Emily asked gently, looking you over frantically. "Did I hurt you?"

You covered your ears with your hands, rocking back and forth.

"Y/N," Emily prompted, growing more concerned by the second. "Talk to me."

Your head shot up, looking wildly about the room.

"I gotta go home," you said, still rocking.

"What!?"

"I have to leave," you insisted, hyperventilating. "I have to– I have to go. Right now. I have to go, I have to leave."

Emily placed a cautious hand on your shoulder. "I'm not gonna let you leave, Y/N. You're clearly not okay."

You grew more and more distressed, your breathing haphazard and tears forming in your eyes

"Shit!" you yelled, slamming your fist into your head.

Emily grabbed your hands tightly in hers, deeply alarmed.

"Hey!" Her voice was forceful, worried. "What the hell is going on!?"

You started to shake, and Emily noticed that your pupils had dilated wildly.

"I can't–" you stuttered. "I- I have to leave. I don't- I don't want you to– see."

There was a moment then that Emily would remember vividly for the rest of her life. It was the moment that she got it. The way you hugged your arms around your body. The way you recoiled from her touch, and covered your head protectively with your hands, nearly in a fetal position. She'd remember later the way her stomach sank, the way her heart felt as if it had burst open and bled out. It was the moment she realized that something bad had happened to you. Something violating, something awful, something so horrific it would never let you go.

She inched closer to you, careful not to touch you. "Is it a panic attack or a flashback?" she whispered.

"F-flashback," you answered, shaky. "I h-haven't had one in a l-long time."

"Okay," Emily nodded, her voice soft and kind. "What can I do to help you?"

You looked at her then, your eyes huge, a tear streaking down your face. "Can you j-just h-hold me? Really t-tight? It'll get w-worse. I just have to r-ride it– out. I'm s-sorry, Em. I–" Your voice cracked, and you turned away.

"Shh," Emily cooed, pulling you close, wrapping her arms tightly around you. She pressed your head into her chest, a gentle hand on the side of your face. "It's okay," she whispered, kissing the top of your head. "I'm right here, baby." She ran her fingers through your hair, the rhythm soothing you a bit. "I'm right here."

The worst moments of your life played in your mind as if from a 4D projector, surrounding you with the smells, the sights, the tactile disgust of his hands on you, his body against yours.

You screamed, but your voice was muffled, as if it was stuck in your throat and only the echo of a scream could get out. You grasped tufts of your hair, pulling tightly.

Emily took your hands and placed them gently under her arms, so that they were stuck in her tight grip around your body.

"It's not real anymore," she whispered, for you and for herself. "Y/N, I'm right here." Her voice broke, and she looked at the ceiling, willing herself not to cry, not right now. "I won't let anyone hurt you. Do you hear me? I love you. You're safe. You're safe with me."

After a few minutes, the horror film in your mind came to a close. Your body shook, spent from the adrenaline rush. Panic took an incredible toll on the body.

After a moment, you pulled away from Emily, burying your head in your hands. "I'm sorry, Em," you said, voice rough. "I'm so sorry."

Emily caressed the side of your face. "Honey, look at me."

"I can't," you whispered, your voice small, like a terrified child's. "We can break up if you want to. I'll understand."

Emily held your face in her hands, tilting her head down to meet your eyes. "Oh, honey, I don't want that at all. I love you. It's gonna be okay."

You let her run her thumb back and forth along your cheekbone for a few minutes, letting your heartbeat and breathing match the rhythm.

After a while, Emily ventured a question, one she was terrified to ask. "Was it something I did?" Her voice was so quiet you almost didn't hear her.

You exhaled deeply, taking her hand in yours and rubbing circles into her palm.

"The man who hurt me," you started, letting out a shaky breath. "When he held me down, he..." You hated to tell her, but she needed to know. She needed to know it all. "He pinned my hands above my head."

Emily pressed her hand over her mouth, a look of abject horror on her face.

"Y/N," she breathed, her face wracked with guilt. "I'm so sorry. I–" Her voice broke, and a few tears slid down her cheeks.

You were quick to reassure her. "It's okay," you said. "You didn't know. How would you have known?"

"Still," she said, her brows furrowed, dashing tears from under her eyes. "I should have asked first. I should have–"

"I probably would've told you to go for it," you admitted, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "I didn't think about it until..."

The silence between you was heavy, with your shame, with Emily's guilt and heartbreak.

Emily looked awful, like she'd never forgive herself. "Emily," you said, pressing your body into hers and wrapping your arms around her waist. "It's okay, I promise. I'm okay. You didn't do anything wrong."

"I hurt you," she whispered, beating herself up.

You placed your hands on your face, your arms, your chest, as if checking for injuries. "Mm, I don't feel hurt."

"You know what I mean."

You lay down in the bed, beckoning Emily to you. She reluctantly obliged, pulling you into her so that you were snuggled into the crook of her neck, her fingers tracing back and forth over your arm.

"I'm okay, Emily," you assured her.

"No, you're not." Her voice was still thick with sadness.

It was in your nature to be bright, to try and combat the dark things with laughter and beauty. You'd had so much darkness in your life, so much hurt, that the only way through it was to seek out the bright spots, to avoid the dark ones. But sometimes the dark spots couldn't be avoided.

"I'm not, but I am," you tried to explain, then sighed. "I'll call my therapist in the morning."

Emily pressed her lips into your temple, trailing her fingers through your hair. After a few minutes, your eyelids grew heavy.

"Em, I'm tired. We should go to bed."

"Shh," she cooed, pulling the blankets up around you and leaning to turn off the light. Her arms were tight around you, secure. "You go to sleep, baby. I just want to hold you for a while."

You woke up screaming that night. And the next night. And the next. It was taking a toll on your health–mental and physical. Emily hated it. She hated that you woke up terrified, woke up hurting, woke up with the knowledge that it wasn't just a dream. It had really happened. It became her sole mission at night to make sure that she was there for you when you woke up, ready to wrap you up in her arms, to press kisses to your face, to let you know that you were safe, that she had you, that she'd never let anyone hurt you.

Therapy would help, you said, but it'd probably take a while. When the BAU got called in on a child abduction later that week, she was relieved it was in the area. She knew she'd eventually have to leave you overnight, but she wasn't ready to, not yet.

If there was one thing Emily was good at, it was compartmentalizing, and that served her well in the field. She managed not to think about you for most of the day, focused instead on the little girl who'd gone missing in a mall.

That is, until they started to suspect that the girl had been sexually abused. Emily seethed under the surface, trying her best to remain calm and collected. She needed to be calm in order to do her job.

She was calm as they broke the uncle, drawing him out, luring him into confessing that he had, in fact, been molesting his niece.

She tried to stay calm as they approached the aunt, but she hit her limit when she realized that the aunt had known. The aunt had known and had prioritized her comfort, her ignorance, over that little girl's safety and innocence.

Emily felt herself growing angrier and angrier as she grilled the aunt. Time was running out for the girl. And, now, every time Emily thought of her, she saw you. She saw you hurt and scared and betrayed with no one to help you. And it made her livid.

"She trusted you!" Emily spat. "She trusted your family, she trusted your husband. You need to tell me where she is!"

"I don't know what you're talking about," the aunt lied, avoiding Emily's eyes.

Fuming, Emily grabbed the doll Morgan and Reid had brought from the girl's house, the doll she'd desecrated and broken and dirtied as a reflection of herself. It made Emily sick to look at it. It made her sick to know that you, too, at some level, still thought of yourself this way. Because of what someone took from you, did to you.

She shoved the doll in the aunt's face, nearly spitting with rage. "This is how Katie sees herself! Self-loathing. Dirty. Disgusting. That is what your husband made her feel!"

The aunt shook her head, tears gathering in the corners of her eyes.

"Do you have any idea how terrified she must have been? How confused?! While you lay awake protecting an animal!" Emily railed, thinking of the nights you woke up screaming, shaking. The nights you ran to the toilet and vomited because you were that scared, that disgusted, even all these years later.

Morgan stood off to the side, watching, a concerned look on his face. Emily's impassioned questioning seemed to be working, but he could tell it wasn't just an interrogation tactic. Emily was losing control of her emotions. For now, it was working in their favor. But he'd be lying if he said he wasn't concerned.

"You robbed that little girl of her innocence!" Emily yelled, getting in the woman's face. "Are you gonna steal the rest of her life from her as well?!"

And with that, the aunt broke, revealing where she'd stashed her niece. Morgan sprinted out of the room, beckoning a team of paramedics to follow.

Emily, spent from her outburst, numbly handcuffed the aunt and led her to a waiting squad car.

Afterward, Morgan pulled her aside, making sure they were far enough away that no one else could hear their conversation.

"You alright, Prentiss?"

"Yeah," she replied tersely, looking at the ground.

"I don't mean to pry, but it feels like this one was personal for you."

Emily remembered suddenly that Morgan had been molested, too, and softened.

She met his eyes, and they just looked at each other for a moment.

"It's not me," Emily finally said.

Morgan waited, leaving her space to continue if she wanted to, and space for silence if she'd prefer that.

Emily briefly considered lying to Morgan, but he was her best friend and, honestly, she could use a friend in this with her. Especially one who'd understand like Morgan would.

"It's Y/N," she said, crossing her arms over her chest.

"I'm sorry." His voice was sincere, heartfelt. It was a simple thing to say, but sometimes the simplest things said the most.

"It's... come back up recently," Emily continued, trying to toe the line between confiding in Morgan but not violating your privacy. "I think she has PTSD."

Morgan placed a strong hand on her shoulder, squeezing it lightly. "It gets better," he said. "It takes a while, but it gets better."

Emily nodded, breathing deeply.

"You know I'm here if you need me," Morgan said. It was a statement, not a question.

"I know. Thanks."

When Emily came home that night, physically and emotionally exhausted, you were in bed reading, scared to go to sleep, as you always were these days.

Emily climbed into bed, kicking her shoes off behind her, and plastering her body to yours, holding you protectively, tightly, as if she'd never let you go.

"Did they find the girl?" you asked. "Was she okay?"

"She will be," Emily whispered.

"Are you okay?"

"I will be," Emily said, resting her head on yours. "Just... let me hold you. Please. Let me keep you safe."

You leaned in and let her, and you'd never felt safer in your life.

#emily prentiss x reader #emily prentiss drabble #emily prentiss fluff #emily prentiss fanfiction #criminal minds fanfiction #emily prentiss imagine #criminal minds #hurt/comfort

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illdowhatiwantthanks · 10 days

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Tea for Two

Amelia Shepherd x g!nreader* Warnings: some explicit language, just hella fluff, seriously so much fluff, mentions of hospitalization (duh) Word Count: 1.2k

Summary: You go to Grey-Sloan Memorial once a week to hang out with the kids on the pediatrics floor, but more and more you find yourself going there for one particular doctor: Amelia Shepherd. But can you work up the courage to make a move? And if you can, will she reciprocate?

*Reader & Gender. Gender is a slippery, tricky thing. I feel like I kind of straddle the line between being a girl and being nonbinary, so my x reader perspectives will shift depending on which I'm feeling more that day. But please feel free to insert whatever pronouns/gender identity fit you best! I try to keep descriptions of the reader to a minimum so you can see yourself in them regardless. <3

You checked in at the front desk of Grey-Sloan Memorial Hospital and pressed your guest-pass name tag onto your shirt. You had your instrument case on your back, and several familiar nurses waved at you as you made your way to the elevator and up to the pediatrics floor. You were there for your weekly music hour with the kids. It had started last summer, when your brother had open heart surgery and spent a month of the pediatrics floor. You'd often brought your instrument to play and sing his favorite songs for him and, more often than not, other kids on the floor would crowd his room and request songs and sing with you.

By the time your brother had gone home with a clean bill of health, you'd gotten attached to the kids, to the nurses who wheeled patients into the rooms you played in. You went home with song requests and learned how to play Encanto and the Bluey theme song and Simon & Garfunkel for them. It had quickly become one of your favorite parts of the week.

And not just because of the kids. Of course, there were always doctors around, but most of the time there was one particular doctor around, and you both loved and hated it.

"Dr. Shepherd," she'd told you, on the third or fourth post-concert elevator ride which, for whatever reason, you almost always ended up on together. "Or, well, Amelia. I'm not your doctor."

"Y/N," you'd replied, shaking her hand like an idiot businessman. God, she was pretty. You hoped you didn't look as flustered as you were.

"Are you on Spotify?" she asked.

You laughed loudly, eyes crinkling shut. "No! No, it's just for fun."

"Well, you're really good at it," Amelia finished, as the elevator opened on the floor before yours.

"Thanks," you said, trying your very hardest to make eye contact.

"See you next week?"

"Yep," you nodded.

"Cool." She gave you a double thumbs-up and walked out the elevator doors.

"Oh!" she exclaimed, turning back to hold the door open. She pointed at you. "Pronouns? Mine are she/her."

A bright smile flashed across your face. "They/them. Thanks for asking."

"You got it." Another thumbs up, and she was gone. You sighed. Pretty and asked about your pronouns? It was gonna be really hard to convince yourself you didn't like her now.

Amelia was there next week. And the next. And the next. Always in the back. Always in the elevator with you afterward. And you just talked. Never for more than a few minutes. But those few minutes added up after a while. You learned that she was Chief of Neurosurgery. That she'd grown up in New York. That she lived with her sisters and her nieces and nephew. That she loved boba tea and cats.

One day, in a moment of reckless confidence, you stopped at Seattle Best Tea on your way to Grey-Sloan and picked up two boba teas, one for you and one for Amelia. As soon as you stepped through the doors of the hospital, you knew it was a mistake. Fuck, you thought. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Friends don't bring boba tea. Especially elevator friends.

But then, of course, you had to give it to her. Because otherwise it'd look like you brought two bobas for yourself, and that was even weirder.

She was already in her corner of the pediatrics lobby when you walked in. Trying to act casual, you approached her and held on the tea.

"Hey," you said. "Do you, uh... do you want this?"

She looked at you, surprised, and took the cup. "You brought me boba?"

"No." You shook your head and shrugged. "I had an... extra?" It was a stupid excuse. You knew it the moment it left your mouth.

A smile crept at the corner of Amelia's lips, and she raised her eyebrows at you. "You had an extra milk tea?"

"No," you admitted, flushing slightly and running a hand self-consciously through your hair. "It's for you." You felt like you were digging your own grave.

"Well, gotta get up there," you said quickly. You avoided her eyes and headed quickly toward the little stool they'd set up for you at the front of the room.

You'd never been so distracted during a set, especially with the Grey-Sloan kids, who usually took up all your attention. At first you tried very hard to not look anywhere near Amelia, but then you thought that might be more suspicious, so you just tried to look in her general direction.

As you packed up your instrument, your heart pounded. You knew, you just knew, she was going to be on that elevator and that she knew. Your damn little boba gesture had almost certainly given you away. And she was going to say, Sorry, I'm not into women. Or kind-of-women-kind-of-not, which is where you usually landed. Even worse, she might say, Sorry, I'm not into you. Or the very worst of all, she wouldn't even be in the elevator, and your time at Grey-Sloan would be unbearably awkward from here on out.

Your heart sank as you got onto the elevator and Amelia was nowhere to be seen. You puffed out your cheeks and exhaled. You'd fucked up. You were glad the elevator was empty this time because you were sure the disappointment showed on. your face. You were not good at hiding your emotions, and you'd prefer to be left alone with this one.

The doors had almost creaked shut when a hand shot out to stop them. An out-of-breath Amelia stepped in, smiling, and leaned against the wall.

"Wow," she breathed. "Almost missed you."

You shuffled your feet and tried to act normal, even though your heart was in your throat.

"Thanks for the tea," she said, nudging your shoulder.

"Yeah!" you replied, probably a little too enthusiastically. "Yeah, no prob."

"So... do you buy boba for all the girls or just me?"

You felt blood rush to your cheeks. "Uh..."

"Because I really hope it's just me."

You glanced at her in surprise and found her grinning at you, a little embarrassed, a little self-satisfied.

"Really?" you asked, not quite believing what you'd heard.

The elevator door opened on Amelia's floor, and she slipped a business card into your hand, her fingers lightly grazing yours. It felt like a bolt of electricity shooting through you.

"Call me and you can buy me dinner, too," she said, before stepping off the elevator, giving you a little salute as the door closed.

You looked at the card in your hand. On the front: all the usual business information. Grey-Sloan Memorial Hospital. Amelia Shepherd, M.D. Chief of Neurosurgery. On the the back: a phone number, scrawled in messy doctor's hand, with a little heart beside it.

Your heart swelled and you couldn't help but smile, bouncing on the balls of your feet. It worked! The boba worked! Seattle Best Tea didn't know it yet, but they'd just made you a regular for life.

#amelia shepherd #amelia shepherd x reader #amelia shepherd x fem!reader #amelia shepherd x gn!reader #amelia shepherd fluff #amelia shepherd drabble #amelia shepherd fanfic #grey's anatomy

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illdowhatiwantthanks · 12 days

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Coming Out

Emily Prentiss x fem!reader Warnings: some explicit language, mention of an unsub hurting Emily 😱, vague insinuations of homophobia, mostly fluff on fluff, feat. loyal himbo Derek Morgan Word Count: 2k

Summary: Emily gets injured on the job, and all she really wants is you, her girlfriend. But she's not out to the rest of the team yet. Can she be vulnerable enough to share that part of herself with the team? Can she be vulnerable enough to let you take care of her? Takes place at the end of S3.E2.

Emily dabbed at her head and winced, checking her watch to see if it had been long enough to take more pain medication. But despite getting clocked with a plank of wood, she was glad to be on the jet, glad to be back with her team because they really were starting to feel like her team. Who was she kidding? She loved her job.

According to the pilot, the team would be landing at Quantico in a little over an hour. Emily grabbed her phone, discreetly shoving it into her pocket, before heading to the back of the plane. She needed to call you, but the rest of the team didn't know about you yet. Hell, the rest of the team didn't even know she was gay. It felt too personal, and she'd been hurt by people's reactions–people she loved and trusted deeply–too many times. She played her relationships and her sexuality close to the vest.

Reid tapped Emily's arm as she passed by.

"Oh! Are you going all the way to the back?"

Emily tensed. "Yep."

"Could you bring me a Sprite?"

She felt her shoulders relax, and she patted Reid on the arm. "Sure."

After knocking on the bathroom door to make sure that truly no one was around, she called you, her voice hushed as she rifled through tiny airplane soda cans, looking for Reid's Sprite.

"Hey, Em," you said, your voice bright.

"Hey," she said, a goofy smile spreading across her face. "What are you up to?"

"Nothing much. Saw a street rat earlier. I named him Guillermo. I think he's on the prowl for a girlfriend."

Emily laughed, covering her mouth.

"How was Milwaukee?" you asked.

"Good. Really good. We got the guy. We're on the plane now."

She could nearly hear how smug you were through the phone.

"You're glad you went back," you snickered, relishing in being right. She'd sworn that it wasn't a big deal, that it'd be easy to get another good job, but you knew her heart was with the BAU.

Emily sighed. "I am. You were right."

"You're gonna stay?"

"Looks that way."

"I knew it!" you crowed. "I'm glad. You're too good at your job to quit it."

"Thanks, love. Listen, Y/N, can I ask you a favor?"

"Of course! Anything."

Emily winced, touching the swollen bump on her head. "We land in about an hour. Can you pick me up and stay at my place tonight?"

"Wow." You drew out the vowel, milking the fact that Emily needed you for once. "You missed me that much, huh?"

"Well, yes, of course, but... I, uh... I kind of have a concussion?"

Your tone shifted immediately from smug to concerned. "What?! Why?! What happened!?"

"Unsub hit me with a plank of wood," she admitted reluctantly.

"Jesus Christ, Em! Are you okay!?"

"I'm fine, baby, I promise," she reassured you. "I just got a little banged up, that's all. But I'll need you to wake me up every few hours and make sure I'm cognizant."

"I think I have some soup in the freezer," you observed, your voice far away. You'd put her on speakerphone to rifle through the cabinets. "And I have a thermometer. I don't know, do concussions cause fevers? I've never had one."

Emily shook her head, smiling. She loved that your first response, always, was to take care of her. Emily was not used to being taken care of, and she didn't let many people do it. She certainly wouldn't let many people see it either. But she let you.

"No thermometers needed. Just you and your car and more you when we get home."

"You got it. When did you say you land?"

"In about an hour."

"Okay. I'll leave in a few."

"Oh," Emily added quickly. "And you're cleared to drive into Quantico. They know the car you drive and they've got your ID on file. Just show it to them at the gate."

You paused. "Well, that's a little Big Brother of them."

"I gave it to them a few months ago. Just in case you ever needed to come by. Sorry, I should've told you."

"It's okay," you decided, pulling on a jacket and a beanie. "It feels kind of badass to be on Quantico's list."

Emily laughed, almost excited to have a concussion because it meant you'd be snuggled right up to next to her for however long it took to get better. 48 hours at least.

"Alright, baby," she finished, Reid's Sprite in hand. "I'll see you in a bit."

"Bye, love."

Emily wiped the grin off her face before returning to the cabin with Reid's Sprite–it'd look suspicious if she was too happy coming back.

An hour later, the team was going their separate ways in the parking lot, waving goodbyes and slamming car doors under the buzzing lights.

Emily leaned on the wall outside the building entrance, relishing the crisp night air.

"You need a ride, Prentiss?" Morgan asked as he walked out, used go-bag slung over his shoulder. "You shouldn't be driving" He pointed to her head.

"No, that's okay," Emily waved him off. "I've got– uh... someone's... picking me up."

Fuck, she thought. The concussion was not helping her ability to lie well.

Morgan stared at her suspiciously.

"What?" Emily laughed, trying to act normal.

"Why are you acting shifty?"

"I'm not!" she protested.

Morgan smirked and waggled his eyebrows. "Do you have a secret boyfriend?"

"What?" Emily said, laughing a little too forcefully. "No!"

He crossed his arms and waited. "You're seriously not gonna tell me?"

Emily leaned against the brick wall, rubbing her forehead. On the one hand, she was tired of keeping you–and herself–a secret. And if anyone was going to be supportive of someone on the team getting laid, it would be Morgan. But on the other, did she really know that much about him? She didn't know his religious background. Sure, he'd defend a gay victim, but that was his job. This was personal.

Emily sighed before replying. "I have... I have a secret girlfriend."

The silence felt like it lasted hours, stretching between them until Emily was sure the chasm would never close again, and that with just a few words, just by being herself, she'd ruined any chance of a friendship with Derek Morgan. It wouldn't be the first time. It probably wouldn't be the last.

Morgan seemed to think deeply before leaning against the wall next to Emily, turning to look her in the eye.

"Prentiss, why didn't you tell us you were gay?"

Emily was afraid to look at him, but when she did, her heart soared. He looked at her with nothing but love and respect and appreciation, no hint of hatred or disgust. If anything, he looked sad that she'd waited so long to tell him.

"I don't know," she shrugged. "I don't always get a good reaction."

"Well, you know nobody on this team would have a problem with that, right? Hell, Garcia'd probably hang pride flags everywhere."

"I know," Emily nodded. "I just... I don't think I'm ready yet. For everyone to know. Soon, though."

Morgan nodded, then thought for a few minutes before asking, "Is it serious?"

Emily chuckled. "Being gay? Yeah, I'd say so."

Morgan shoved her shoulder gently, mindful of the day's injuries. "No! The girl! How long have you been seeing her?"

"A little over six months."

"So, it's serious."

Emily grinned. She was glad to have someone to talk to about this. She'd held it so close for so long. She wasn't used to having anyone to tell about you. Maybe Morgan could be that person.

"Promise not to tell the others?"

Morgan put his hand over his heart. "Promise."

"I'd marry her tomorrow if she'd let me."

"Wow." Morgan raised his eyebrows, smiling lightly. "Prentiss is in love," he said, teasing her.

Emily fought a wide smile, but lost in the end. "Oh, shut up. And don't tell anyone. Especially her."

"Your secret's safe with me," Morgan reassured her. And she could tell he meant it. Emily trusted him, she realized. She trusted him to be a good friend, to keep her secrets. She trusted him not to out her to the rest of the team. He'd let her go at her own pace when it came to telling the others.

"She better be amazing," Morgan added. "I don't know how anyone could be good enough for you."

Just at that moment, a pair of headlights crept slowly into the parking lot, hesitant and unsure. It had to be you. Emily stepped forward and waved a bit, then turned to Morgan.

"Well, I'll see you tomorrow?" she said.

"Not with that head, you won't," Morgan observed.

You put the car in park next to the curb and leapt out of the driver's seat, hurrying over to Emily.

"Oh my god!" you exclaimed, anger and concern washing over you. "I thought you you said you were fine!"

You gingerly touched Emily's face and pulled her head down to examine the butterfly bandage above her eyebrow.

"Look at this," you grumbled, more to yourself than anyone else. "It's already bruising." You glared at the butterfly bandage. "Did a doctor do this or you? If it was you, I think we should clean it with rubbing alcohol at home."

Morgan looked absolutely delighted, both because you seemed like a delightful person and because Emily was beet red at being observed with you.

"Y/N, I'm fine," Emily said firmly, grasping your fingers in hers and removing them from her face. "This is my colleague Derek Morgan. Morgan, my girlfriend, Y/N."

You looked Morgan over and immediately decided you liked him. Mostly because you could tell that he really cared about Emily. But also because he looked mischievous, like he'd tease her. And if there was anything you loved, it was teasing Emily. You shook his hand enthusiastically. "It's really nice to meet you," you said. And you meant it.

But you didn't have time to chat with Morgan tonight. You were too worried about Emily.

"You don't look fine," you argued, looking to Morgan for backup. "Does she look fine to you?"

Morgan grinned at Emily, raising his eyebrows. "She definitely looks like she could use some TLC."

"Oh, and she'll get it alright," you assured him, opening the passenger door for Emily. "Shall we?"

Emily bent gingerly to get into the car, and you were careful to guard her head from the ceiling.

"Derek, it was really nice to meet you," you said, shaking his hand one more time for good measure as Emily rolled down the window, staring bullets at Morgan.

"You too, Y/N," he said, looking over your shoulder at Emily. "I hope you all have a very marry evening."

Emily pointed at him aggressively behind your back, mouthing, "SHUT. UP."

"See you, Prentiss," he called as you pulled away. He laughed and called out, "I hope it's a real honeymoon from work!"

Emily's hand shot out the window, flipping him off.

Later that night, your alarm buzzed and you blinked awake. You forgot for a moment that you were at Emily's, but her strong arms wrapped protectively around your waist were enough to remind you where you were.

You turned slowly to face a sleeping Emily, brushing her hair out of her face.

"Em. Hey. You gotta wake up, honey."

She groaned, placing a hand on her head.

"Sorry," you grimaced. "Gotta make sure your brain's alright."

"My brain is fine," she growled.

"Oh, yeah?" you joked, checking the time before shaking a few pills into your hand from the pill bottle on the nightstand. "Who am I, then?"

"The love of my life, Whitney Houston."

You laughed, which made Emily laugh, too. But she quickly doubled over in pain, groaning.

"Here, take these," you said gently, handing her the pills and a glass of water. "It'll help."

She took the pills obediently and lay back down.

"You know," you said, pulling up the blankets to make sure they covered Emily's shoulders. "I may not be Whitney Houston..." You wrapped your arms around her and drew her to you, and she burrowed her head into the space between your neck and your collarbone.

"But I think I'm a close second," you finished, running your fingers rhythmically through Emily's hair.

She sighed contentedly, pressing into you, then moving one of your arms to wrap it more tightly around her.

"Why are you so good to me?" she asked, quiet. You couldn't quite tell if it was a joke or serious, but you'd reply the same either way.

"Because I love you, you nerd."

She leaned up, planting a kiss underneath your chin. "I love you, too."

Within minutes she was conked out again, and you were setting another alarm, ready to do it all over again in a few hours.

#emily prentiss #emily prentiss x reader #criminal minds #bau #emily prentiss fanfiction #emily prentiss fluff #emily prentiss drabble

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illdowhatiwantthanks · 12 days

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Alex Cabot x Casey Novak x Reader SFW Fluff Alphabet

Big thanks to to @scealaiscoite for their SFW Poly Fluff Alphabet for the inspiration here!

a = affection Is anyone more overtly affectionate than the others? You are definitely the most outwardly affectionate. Not in a PDA sense, you just tend to be the most sentimental. You don't initiate physical touch a whole lot, but Alex and Casey both know you are down to cuddle at any time, and they take advantage of it often. Alex is the snugglier of the two, but Casey gets FOMO when you snuggle without her, so she'll jump in, too. b = bed What's the sleeping situation like? California King (no twin bed! no roommates!). Casey on the right, Alex on the left. You are forever the middle spoon because (a) you love it, (b) you're by far the smallest, and (c) both Casey and Alex can feel a bit smothered after a whole night of middle spoon-ing. c = comfort When someone's feeling down, how do the others look after them? When you're down, your self-esteem takes a hard hit, so Alex and Casey do their best to be extra reassuring. When Alex is down, you and Casey do your best to make her feel important and to distract her. Nice clothes, expensive dinner, all your attention all night. When Casey's down, she needs to take a fucking break. The problem is that she never wants to. You and Alex usually have to take her phone and laptop away and force her to relax. Bubble bath, takeout, snuggles, the works.

d = dates What do dates look like? Who usually plans them, and are they individual or a group affair? You take turns planning, but also enjoy the occasional spontaneous date. Everyone is always invited, but not everyone always goes. You have lots of things you like to do all together, like dinner and a movie or a weekend at the beach or a trip to the farmer's market. But there are things you do in pairs, too. For example, you and Alex love classical music, so you've got season tickets to the NY Phil, but Casey's ears would explode if you made her go. Alex will attend a sports event with you and Casey once in a blue moon, but mostly it's just you two. Alex and Casey love dancing, from ballroom to clubbing and everything in between. You are a truly awful dancer and have a really hard time in loud, crowded environments, so you usually send them on their way and enjoy an evening to yourself.

e = events Who drags everyone else to their family's and friends' events? When it comes to family, you do all the dragging. Casey's parents live in the city, so you see them at least a few times a month, and Alex doesn't talk to her dad (her mom died when she was 17). You're very close to your family, and you're the only one who has siblings and nieces and nephews. Christmas at your family's is a given, and Alex and Casey are 100% there for it. But friend events? Those are all Casey. Alex will drag you to one, too, mostly out of obligation, but Casey genuinely enjoys going out and grabbing drinks with friends and will convince you both to go with her sometimes.

f = fights Are fights something that happen often? How are they resolved? Of course you fight. Everyone fights. But the fights are usually civil and logical and respectful. You've got twice as many relationships to maintain in a triad, so direct communication is a priority for you all. Casey and Alex have had to learn how to tone down their "lawyer-ness" during arguments, though. At first, they'd sometimes fight you so hard–like they were in court–that they'd end up making you cry. They always felt awful and backpedaled real quick. They're a lot gentler with conflicts now.

g - getting together How did you all get together? Alex and Casey met at work, a slow-burn career romance. By the time you came along, they'd already been together for several years. They'd discussed polyamory before and, while neither was necessarily opposed, neither one of them had anyone else they wanted to date either. So it was very much a we'll cross that bridge when we come to it situation. They came to the bridge when you moved to the city and joined Casey's rec softball league. It was Casey who fell for you first, Casey who started inviting you out to lunch with her and Alex after softball games, Casey who cautiously, gently asked Alex how she'd feel about her dating you. To which Alex said, Yeah, of course, if it'll make you happy. But I think I kind of want to date her, too. Can we all date? Do you think she'd be into that? It turns out that, yes, you were into that.

h = hobbies Do any of you share hobbies or passions? How do you include your other partner(s) in them? There's a foundational understanding between you that you don't all have to enjoy the same things. You and Alex share a deep love of reading and often spend evenings on the couch reading together, snuggled up against Casey as she plays video games or watches sports. You and Casey play softball together, and you love watching sports–baseball, basketball, football, you name it. Alex will watch with you, but she's mostly in it for the game day snacks you make. And obviously Casey and Alex have a whole career/calling in common, so they talk about that a lot, but they always try to make sure you're included in the conversation, and make sure to explain patiently when you have questions.

i = in sickness and in health When someone is sick, who's the caretaker and who's the germaphobe? Who's resistant to being taken care of? It depends on what kind of sick. If puking is involved, Alex and Casey are on their own. You are out of there, probably staying in a hotel, leaving soup deliveries outside the door with a mask on. Any other kind of sickness, and you absolutely dote on them. Casey eats this up. She is a pitiful sick person. Alex, on the other hand, will keep going until she literally can't anymore. And even then she'll tell you she's fine, and you have to force her to rest and take it easy. You can't exactly talk, you're pretty resistant to being taken care of, too. But that's mostly because Casey and Alex have important jobs to do, and you don't want to distract them.

j = joker Who's got the best sense of humor? Do you all like to tease and banter? You are by far the funniest of the three of you. You love making Alex and Casey laugh. It's one of the highlights of your life. Their jobs are so serious; they can tend to be on the serious side, too. So you make it your mission to brighten their days. That being said, there's a lot of good-natured teasing and insulting that happens on a regular basis. Casey calls you asshole more than she calls you anything else, probably. Alex has a razor sharp wit which is mostly funny, but every once in a while she'll toe the line between funny and mean. She can immediately tell when she's taken it too far, though, and is quick to make it up to you.

k = knowing Who can read their partners like a book? Is there anyone who has their walls up, even around their partners? By nature of being incredibly intuitive, you are the best at reading emotions. The problem is that you can usually tell what they're feeling but not why or who it's related to, so you almost always think it's somehow your fault. You're working on that one in therapy. Oddly, you're probably also the hardest to read. You have walls up, though they're slowly coming down. And Casey and Alex can have tunnel vision when it comes to work, so sometimes they miss things. Of the two of them, Casey is the more open with her emotions. Alex is open with anger and anger only. She's working very hard on being open with her other feelings, too.

l = lavish Is there anyone who really likes to lavish and show off their partners? How do the others react to it? Alex. Alex all the way. She's proud of herself, proud of the work she does, and proud of having not one but two stunning girlfriends. She dresses you and Casey up to the nines in clothes it would have taken you years to afford. When she walks into a room with you in a tailored Valentino suit on one arm and Casey in a designer gown on the other, she just knows everyone's jealous that she's living the best of both worlds. Since neither you nor Casey came from money, you both had a hard time with Alex's generosity at first, but you came to accept that showing you off is just Alex's way of telling you how proud she is of you and how happy she is that you're hers.

m = memories Is anyone more on the sentimental side? You, 100%. Although Casey and Alex have their moments, too. But you're the one who packs lunches with little loves notes. You're the one who surprises them with flowers at work, who cooks their favorite dinner because you know they had a bad day. You'll pick up that book that Alex wants so bad, but doesn't have time to go get. You'll record the Giants game instead of watching it while Casey's at work because you know she'd rather watch it together later. Of course, they do sweet things for you, too. Like Alex asking you to read your favorite book to her because she wants to read it with you. Or Casey organizing a game night with the SVU folks at your house, because she knows you want to hang out with them, too, you're just much more comfortable at home. You all have your moments, but they'd both agree that sentimentality just comes so, so naturally to you. It's a gift.

n = nights What's the nighttime routine like when you're all together? You are a big, big fan of parallel play so, even though you usually like to quietly read a book before bed, you want to do it wherever Alex and Casey are. Alex spends an eternity in the bathroom on her skin care routine before putting on the softest, most luxurious pajamas. She fixes herself a cup of peppermint tea and curls up next to you with her own book. Casey always has "more work to do," but she'll go through case files while you and Alex read. Or she'll finish the newspaper if she didn't get to that morning. She always has a gigantic, messy collection of file folders, old newspapers, and half-full glasses of water on her nightstand. You almost always fall asleep first, and they don't stay up too much longer because "you're just so adorable" and "I can't pay attention when you look that snug-able!"

o = open How open are you with one another? Very. You don't keep secrets. You don't tell lies. When you first got together, Alex suggested you all lay down "relationship rules." Those were two of the biggest. It sometimes takes longer for you to open up about what you're feeling, but they've learned that it doesn't really have anything to do with how much you trust them, it's just how you process things.

p = PDA What's PDA like with them? Is there anyone who loves it? Anyone who hates it? Alex would full-on make out with you in public, but she knows that's not a good look for someone in her position. Also, you and Casey do not like PDA. Casey will kiss you on the cheek or put a hand on the small of your back at a party, but that's it. You might hold their hands, but you won't do anything else in front of others. Alex won't either unless she feels like someone's infringing on her territory (her territory being you and Casey). Then she gets really possessive and is not afraid to show people that you're hers.

q = quiet Who prefers to spend their time out and about, and who likes to spend it at home? Casey is the most social of you. She loves going out with you or going out with friends. Alex is kind of in the middle. She's very, very good with people and socializes quite a bit, but often out of political obligation (to grease the wheels, so to speak, and make connections) rather than for fun. You are a hardcore homebody. You'll go out with them because you love them, but you're always very excited when you all decide on a night in.

r = romantic Is anyone a bit of a sap for their partners? You. So, so you. You just truly can't believe you lucked out with these two gorgeous, strong, confident, crazy smart women. Oddly enough, both Alex and Casey tend to be more affectionate with you than they are with one another. It's not that they love each other less, but you've got a couple of theories as to why they're just a little more romantic with you. (1) You're much, much smaller than them. Like a full 10 inches shorter. So they sometimes baby you a bit. They think you're very cute. You both love and hate it. (2) They were together first, and then kind of simultaneously fell for you, so you sometimes think they see you as collectively theirs, tag-teaming to take care of you and love you. You don't mind. They're collectively yours, too. (3) You're more sentimental than either of them, so it's easier for them to be sentimental with you than with one another. But, all in all, there's plenty of romance to go around.

s = sharing Is there anyone who's particularly territorial of their partners? ALEX. Very possessive of both of you. Casey's pretty damn possessive of you, too. Less so of Alex, but that's probably because she knows nobody fucks with Alex. You are the least territorial, mostly because you're just glad to be there. It doesn't leave a whole lot of room for jealousy. Just as Alex and Casey did before you came along, you all have an open understanding that if someone else were to come along–for any of you–you'd be okay with one of you pursuing a relationship with someone else, too. But it seems unlikely. You're all deeply content with things as they are now and don't really see yourselves bringing anyone else in.

t = terms of endearment Nicknames! What are the nicknames!? Alex uses honey or my love. Casey uses sweetheart and honey and sometimes baby. You mostly use lovely, which drives both of them wild, and also honey on occasion.

u = urge Who's the most impulsive? And who reins them back in? None of you are very impulsive. You think things through before acting. But of the three of you, Alex is probably the one who lets her emotions get the best of her, which can sometimes get her into hot water. Both Casey's and Alex's emotions (and impulses to do something brave and stupid) run high during hard cases. Thankfully, you're usually there to talk them out of it.

v = vacations How do vacations go? And where do you travel? You do vacations big. Alex has a lot of money, and you all love traveling. Alex considers it her absolute joy to make you and Casey's travel dreams come true, because she knows you didn't grow up with the kind of money to make them happen. She whisks you away on far-flung vacations as often as she can. An even bigger test of her love: she'll go camping with you because Casey loves it so much. But only with the highest end camping gear. And she will not touch a fish or a fishing pole, but she'll sit in a chair and read with you while you and Casey go fishing. Your favorite vacation so far? A surprise holiday trip to Soneva Jani in the Maldives. You'd always wanted to go to the Maldives, but it was very much a pipe dream. Alex packed for you, and you had no idea where you were going until you boarded the connecting flight to Malé. You were so excited you cried a little. When you stepped into your overwater bungalow, you just couldn't contain your excitement, running around the building, staring out at the crystal blue water, and kissing Casey and Alex over and over again, saying "Thank you thank you thank you thank you!"

w = worthy How are insecurities handled? Are any of you more self-conscious than the others? You're the most self-conscious. Casey and Alex are just so conventionally beautiful and successful and confident. They're smart, powerful, career-driven women and you're... a dorky, tiny, androgynous little work-from-home ad copywriter. Sometimes it's hard to know what they see in you. Alex is almost never insecure because she's cocky as fuck. Unless she screws up at work, and then she needs a lot of reassurance. Casey is insecure in that she's never able to live up to her own standards, so you have to remind her often that she doesn't need to be perfect and she's doing great. Insecurities in your home are always met with love and reassurance, never annoyance or frustration.

x = xoxo Who checks up on their partners a lot when they're apart? Do they call or text? Casey. She'll call to check up on you at least once a day. If you're out of town, she calls you at night, too, right before bed, on speakerphone with her and Alex (or vice versa, if Alex is out of town). Alex misses you, too, but she's more likely to text sporadically throughout the day. You text or call when you see something funny or something that reminds you of them.

y = yearn Who misses their partners the most, even just throughout the day? You really like your alone time, so you miss them but you really like having your space (working from home is great for this). But Casey and Alex miss you. Because you're home so often, when you're not home–out with friends, spending the weekend at your parents', etc.–they almost don't know what to do with themselves. Bonus POV: The Group Chat Casey: babe when are you coming home 😢 💔 😭 💌 😫 Alex: my love I need you here in my arms You: omg chill you guys i've been gone for like 2 hours! Casey: yeah 2 hours 2 long

z = zealous Who was especially eager in pursuit of the relationship? Was anyone more reserved? When it was just Alex and Casey, Alex made the first move. With you, it was Casey who came after you the hardest. Alex was a bit more reserved because she didn't want to make you feel like you had to date her, too. She wanted to be sure that you knew if you just wanted to date Casey and not her, that was okay. but she really did want you. She was trying so hard to be respectful that you eventually had to ask her out. Alex, can we go out sometime? Yeah, I'll see when Casey's free. No, I meant... just me and you. I mean, obviously Casey can come, too, if she wants, but... I'd like to take you out if you'll let me.

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illdowhatiwantthanks · 13 days

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Panic! At the DA's Office

Casey Novak x fem!reader Warnings: suicidal ideation, mental health struggle, anxiety/depression, panic attack, established relationship, fluff forever, some explicit language Word count: 2k

Summary: You're supposed to be meeting your girlfriend, Casey, for lunch, but prepping for the bar exam has you in an anxious spiral. You try to hide it, but it's hard to pretend you're okay when you're with Casey.

You stood on the subway platform, greasy Shake Shack takeout bags tucked under your arm. You'd told Casey you'd bring her lunch, and you were a woman of your word. Even though the bar exam was two weeks away. Even though you'd written so many practice essays you'd had to get a wrist splint for the cramps. Even though you were practically drowning in information about constitutional law, civil procedure, torts, contracts. You were exhausted from studying, and it felt like it was all for nothing. The more you studied, the more things seemed to get jumbled up in your mind. The more you'd stare at the page and the words would stare back, shifting and writhing until they meant nothing.

With each practice test, you felt less confident. As the day of the exam got closer and closer, your anxiety grew and grew. And you were so good at hiding it. You had to be good at it, or else how would you go on? How would the world keep on spinning, and you with it? Sometimes you wished it wouldn't. Not forever, not for always. You just wished that, for a little while, everything would stop. That just for a little while, no one would need or expect anything from you and you could just be. Or not be, maybe.

As you stood on the platform, waiting for the subway that would take you to the DA's office and your girlfriend you thought, briefly–as you sometimes did at your lowest–how easy it would be to jump. It would be so easy, so fast. But you had the warm food in your hands. You had Casey's milkshake. She loved milkshakes. And she would be so sad. It was always the thought of Casey's heartbreak that stopped you. Or imagining your dad crying. Imagining your parents having to tell your siblings what had happened.

You felt the rush of the subway as it sped past you and exhaled deeply. The moment was over. At least for now. You took a seat and did your best to steel yourself to see Casey. She was excellent at reading you, and you needed to be unreadable today. The last thing you wanted to do was worry her.

You walked the last bit of your journey in the freezing cold, appreciating the way the wind stung your eyes. It brought you out of yourself.

You saw Casey through the window before she saw you, and your heart surged. Just seeing her made you feel better. Not all the way better, but at least a little better. You knocked at her open door, and the look on her face when she saw you made your heart soar.

"Y/N!" she called, waving you in and shutting a notebook.

You were quiet. You didn't trust yourself to speak, afraid you might start crying. The downside of feeling so safe with Casey was that your usual ability to wall up your emotions was significantly impaired with her. You leaned down to kiss her quickly, and she wrapped her arms around your waist, burying her face in your chest.

"This case is killing me," she said as you pulled up a chair, divvying up the food. "I mean, the evidence they've given me is absolute shit. It's always fucking Stabler jumping the gun, and now I have to clean it up. Typical white man. So I think I'm gonna try..."

You let Casey ramble, grateful to hear her voice, to hear about her day, to have the excuse of food in your mouth to simply nod absentmindedly. But you couldn't manage to eat much, mostly pushing ketchup around with your fries and trying to white-knuckle through the panic rising in your chest. Your heart pumped faster and faster, and you were trying so hard to breathe normally, even though you felt like you were suffocating.

"Y/N?" Casey said, snapping you out of it.

"What?" Your voice was shaky, and you avoided her eyes. If she saw your eyes, she'd know.

"I just asked how bar prep was going..." She looked you over, furrowing her eyebrows. "Are you okay?"

You needed to breathe before you could speak, but when you opened your mouth to try, your breath hitched, hiccuping and separating into hyperventilation.

"Y– yes," you replied, clearly not okay, as tears pricked at the corners of your eyes and your breath came in short gasps. It was as if all the anxiety of the last few days, all you'd bottled up and kept at bay, had come flooding in all at once, knocking the air out of you.

"Okay, well, that's obviously a lie," Casey observed, standing quickly to close the blinds and lock the door. She sighed as she sat back down, mentally beating herself up for not noticing that something was off when you came in.

"Come here, honey." She pulled your chair toward her, grabbing your clenched fists in her hands and forcing them flat.

You were rocking and hyperventilating at this point. Your heartbeat was so fast and loud it was almost all you could hear. If you hadn't had panic attacks before, you would have thought you were dying. You knew better: you were dying, but only on the inside.

Casey pressed her forehead to yours and breathed slowly, in and out, in and out.

"Breathe with me, sweetheart, come on," she said softly.

"I– I c-can't."

"Yes, you can, honey. Come on."

You took a big, shaky breath and let it out, coughing.

"That's it, baby, that's it. Just keep going. Just breathe."

After what felt like an eternity, your heartbeat started to slow. You paired your breathing with Casey's, shaking slightly. She ran her thumbs over your knuckles in rhythm with your breath, and you felt an icy calm settle over you, the same calm that comes after an adrenaline rush, all that hot terror seeping away.

You exhaled and lifted your head a bit, avoiding Casey's eyes.

"Sorry."

She shook her head, fixing your hair and wiping away that tears that lingered on the bottoms of your eyelids.

"Don't be sorry."

But you were. You were so sorry. Your panic attack might have subsided, but the sense of being a burden had only increased. You wanted to sit on Casey's lap. You wanted her arms around you. You wanted her to tell you that she loved you, that she needed you, that you weren't too much for her. But all of that felt like too much to ask for, so you just sat, arms wrapped around yourself.

"Will you tell me what's going on?" Casey asked gently.

You felt more tears coming and dashed them away.

"It's just everything," you said, the words spilling out in a flood. "I'm doing terrible on the practice exams, Casey. Terrible. I'm gonna fail the fucking bar exam, and then what!? What was it all even for? I just can't do it! I can't! Every time I sit down to study I feel like I'm gonna die, and I can't start because I'm too anxious, but then I don't study and I just get more anxious. I'm just– I'm not good enough!"

Your voice broke, and Casey's heart broke with it.

"I'm not good enough for you, and I– I don't want to do this. It's not worth it, I'm not worth it." You grasped your hair and groaned. "Sometimes I wish I wasn't even here. Today I even thought about jumping in front of the fucking subway. I'd never do it," you added, noticing Casey's alarm. "But it just... feels like it'd be easier for everyone, including me, if I wasn't around."

Your head was in your hands. You couldn't see it, but Casey looked devastated, her heart surging for you. She grabbed you up and pulled your body into hers until you were on her lap, her arms wrapped tightly around you.

"Oh, honey," she breathed, pressing her face into yours. "Please don't say things like that. Do you know how empty life would be if you weren't here?"

You shrugged your shoulders, sniffling

"Who would bring me milkshakes?"

You giggled.

"Who would sing loud with me in the car, huh? Who would make laugh so hard I snort?"

You smiled, moments with Casey flashing through your mind, some of the happiest moments of your life.

"Who would make me feel loved and safe and proud, if you weren't here?"

"Somebody would," you argued.

She cupped your face and looked you hard in the eyes. "No. Not like you do."

"You're just saying that."

"I'm not. I don't just say things, you know that," Casey reprimanded you. She placed small, warm kisses on your cheek, your forehead, your eyelids, the corner of your mouth, until you were laughing and squinting.

"You," she continued, "are generous and brave and kind and funny and sweet and so, so beautiful. And the world would be a lot darker without you in it."

Your chest buzzed with warmth, like stepping outside on an unexpectedly sunny day or coming downstairs on Christmas morning.

"I don't know about that," you protested, but Casey had successfully beaten back your blues. And she could tell.

"Well, my world would be anyway," she chuckled.

You placed a kiss on the corner of her mouth before returning to your seat, reaching for a french fry.

"Now you're hungry," Casey said, rolling her eyes.

You glanced at the clock. "I thought you had a meeting?"

"I do."

You froze, but Casey was quick to reassure you.

"It's okay! Not a big deal for me to be a few minutes late, I promise."

You relaxed, taking a sip of Casey's milkshake. She snatched the cup back.

"I thought I told you to get your own milkshake."

"Well, I just wanted a little bit!" you whined.

"That's what you always say, and you always drink half of mine."

You flashed her your most charming smile, and she sighed, handing you the cup. You tried not to look too smug as you sipped.

"Don't you have somewhere to be?" you said, dripping with sarcasm. "Probably can't take a milkshake to your fancy lawyer meeting."

"I do have somewhere to be, but I need you to do something for me before I go."

"Oh." You sat up a little straighter. "Okay. What?"

"I need you to call your therapist," she stated, staring at you pointedly.

"Case, I'm fi–"

"No, you're not," she cut you off. "If you're having thoughts like you said you were, you need to talk to her."

You sighed and nodded. "Okay. I'll call."

Casey didn't budge.

"Casey," you needled. "You can go. I will call."

She shrugged her shoulders and leaned back in her chair, stance wide, looking like a hot Wall Street businessman in her work suit. She could make you do anything when she looked like that, and she knew it.

"Fine." You picked up your phone, scrolled through the contacts, and found your therapist, flipping the screen around to show Casey the contact info before pressing the call button.

"Speaker," Casey commanded.

"You're fucking bossy, you know that?"

Your therapist didn't pick up–probably in a session–but you left a message.

"Hey, Carla, this is Y/N. Just kind of having a rough day... slash week slash time in general, and I was wondering if you could squeeze me in maybe earlier than my session next week? Like maybe..."

"TODAY," Casey whispered aggressively.

"...even today or tomorrow if you've got anything open. Thanks, bye."

You rolled your eyes. "Happy now?"

"Mmhm." Casey stood, picked up her briefcase, and bent to kiss you on the head. "I gotta run, but let me know what your therapist says, okay?"

"Okay," you agreed, suddenly feeling embarrassed again.

"Hey," she said, grabbing your chin and forcing you to look at her. "I love you."

"I love you, too."

She planted a firm kiss on your lips before opening the door.

"You can stay in here and work if you want. When I come back, we can work together."

"Okay," you said, already feeling better about an afternoon of studying. If Casey was there, it couldn't be too bad.

"I love you so much I'll even let you have the rest of my milkshake," she called back as she walked down the hallway.

You shook your head and took a sip, feeling better than you had in weeks.

#casey novak #casey novak x reader #casey novak drabble #casey novak one shot #casey novak fluff #law and order svu #svu #mental illness #hurt/comfort

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illdowhatiwantthanks · 14 days

Text

Aces

Amelia Shepherd x ace!fem!reader Warnings: mostly fluffy but definitely some mentions/discussions of sex, ace representation wooooooo, some explicit language Word Count: 1.1k Summary: You come out as asexual on a date with Amelia, and you're worried about how she'll react. But it turns out that maybe honesty really is the best policy–for both of you.

*Reader & Asexuality. Asexuality is a spectrum! No one person's ace identity is the same as someone else's. If you're ace and don't see yourself represented in the reader's perspective here, just know that your identity is still so valid! It's just impossible to encompass the beautifully wide range of what it means to be ace in one story or one perspective.

"Oh my god," Amelia said, eyes wide. "I'm so sorry."

"No, no, no!" you reassured her, touching Amelia's arm lightly to keep her from pulling away. "I like kissing you. I like you. I think I would probably like more, but... I just– I don't know. I wanted to be up front."

Amelia looked skeptical, no longer the suave, sure woman she'd been moments before.

You tried not to sound desperate. "It doesn't have to mean no sex, I don't think. For me, it just means that I'm mostly, generally uninterested. But not necessarily? God," you cursed. "I feel like I'm fucking this up."

You looked at the ground, trying not to feel panicked. You could count on one hand the number of people you'd been really, truly attracted to in your life. Amelia was one of them. You felt Amelia's hand slip into yours and looked up, equal parts hopeful and afraid.

"I've, uh, never been with someone who's asexual," Amelia said, clearly trying to put both of you at ease.

You returned to your walk on the waterfront, dusk closing in around the two of you.

"I like you, too," Amelia continued nervously. "I mean, I really like you. But I'm very much a sexual person, and I don't want–for either of us–for this to get too far and..."

"Yeah," you replied. "Me too."

"So," Amelia said, smiling and trying to lighten the mood. "You're ace! Tell me about it!"

"Well," you started, thoughts jumbling around in your head. "I like women. Romantically anyway. Sometimes sexually, I guess? I don't really know. I've never..." You paused and blushed. "I've never actually had sex." You shook your head and let out a shaky breath. "Shit, you didn't need to know that. Sorry."

Amelia squeezed your hand. "Don't be sorry."

"Anyway," you continued, scared that if you stopped you wouldn't start again. "I masturbate sometimes so, like, I know I at least enjoy the sensation, but... real life always felt unnecessary, like it was overcomplicating things. There just aren't many people I look at and think, Yeah, I could see myself having sex with them. But I don't know for sure because I've never done it, and I don't want to lead anyone on. And I'm scared because the only other person I've felt that about, well, we were both super religious and it wasn't safe to be out so we weren't out. To anyone or even to ourselves, really. And I always let her take the lead in how far we went because I was so scared that she'd misinterpret anything I did and think I was gay. Of course, I was, but I didn't know that at the time..."

You stopped and looked out across the darkening bay. "I'm sorry," you said, rubbing your forehead. "I'm rambling now. This is probably too much. I'm a lot."

"I'm a lot, too," Amelia commented, playfully jostling your shoulder. "I'm just not as brave and up front about it as you."

You avoided eye contact, sure that if you met Amelia's eyes you'd see what you were dreading: that Amelia was no longer interested, was just a nice person, continuing the date and the conversation out of kindness.

"Hey." Amelia interrupted your thoughts, tapping your hand. "You said the only other person you've thought about sex with."

You stayed quiet.

"Does that mean you've thought about with me?"

You flushed a deep red and stared at the ground. Amelia smirked, finding your embarrassment adorable.

"Hey, there," she said, smiling, bending down in front of your bent head to meet your eyes. Amelia put her hands on either side of your head, pushing your hair behind your ears and lifting your chin.

"Hey," Amelia continued, grinning fully now. "I am one of the two people in the world that Y/N finds attractive. I mean, talk about knowing how to make a girl feel pretty."

You smiled quickly, taking Amelia's hand as you continued your walk.

"And I've thought about it, too," Amelia added. "Just so you know. A lot."

You flushed again and chanced a glance at Amelia who, if anything, seemed more excited and into you than before. You couldn't believe it.

Stopping you with a hand on your wrist, Amelia leaned down and kissed you, running her thumb back and forth along your cheek. When she pulled away, you were dumbstruck.

Amelia searched your eyes, as if she were trying to decipher a foreign language.

"Do you like that?" she asked.

You nodded a little too enthusiastically. "So much, yes."

"So I have a proposition," Amelia said, turning around and wrapping her arm through yours as you turned back.

"Okay," you prompted, savoring the feeling of Amelia so close to you.

"I say we try. I think we should try having sex. Only if you're up for it, of course. And all along the way, you can decide what you like and what you don't. And we can stop at any time. I promise I won't be upset. That way we'll know."

You stumbled through your words. "I'm not... experienced, so–"

Amelia turned to you and raised her eyebrows. "Y/N. Not to toot my own horn or anything, but I know what I'm doing. And if you don't enjoy yourself, you can be sure that you would not enjoy having sex with anyone. Because I'm really good."

You ran a hand through your hair, your face reddening, and a smile creeping across your face.

"I'm kind of excited actually."

Amelia jumped and shrieked. "I know, right!? I've never been someone's first! God, I can't wait to blow your fucking mind!" She pulled herself back down to earth and cleared her throat. "Unless you don't want to or you don't like it, which is totally fine. But I really hope you do because you are so hot." She said this last part more to herself than to you.

You smiled at Amelia's happy little dance. You were really, truly excited. Nervous, too. But excited. Riding high on the moment, you put one hand on the side of Amelia's face and wrapped the other arm around the small of her back.

And you kissed her. You kissed her. Your stomach did somersaults as you felt Amelia's hands on your waist, felt Amelia's mouth deepening the kiss. You kept going, surprised at how good Amelia's tongue felt in your mouth, how good it felt to hold the back of her head in your hands.

There was no one around in the dim early night, just you and the wind and the water. Amelia pressed her body into yours, and you could feel the buckle of Amelia's belt pressing into you. Your body took you off guard as you whined into Amelia's mouth, a noise that had never come out of you before. Amelia pulled away, running a hand over her lips and looking smug.

"You like that?" Amelia asked, already knowing the answer. You nodded, panting like a dog. You had never felt like this before. Almost hungry. It scared you a little.

"You want more?"

You surprised yourself by nodding even more vigorously.

"Yeah," you said, breathlessly. "I think I do."

Amelia grinned and bit her lip, taking your hand and leading you away.

"Where are you taking me?" you laughed, face flushed, electricity running between Amelia's hand and yours.

"Bed," Amelia replied, nearly dragging you as she sped to the car.

#amelia shepherd #amelia shepherd x reader #amelia shepherd x ace reader #asexuality #ace pride #ace representation #ace reader #amelia shepherd drabble #amelia shepherd one shot #amelia shepherd fluff #grey's anatomy

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illdowhatiwantthanks · 20 days

Text

After General Anesthesia

Alex Cabot x Casey Novak x fem!reader Warnings: hospital times, fluffity fluff, mentions of sex, poly representation so if you're not on board with that byeeeeee, some explicit language Word Count: 1.3k

Summary: You wake up in the hospital, groggy from the anesthesia, to two of the most beautiful women you've ever seen doting on you. Imagine your surprise when it turns out you're dating. Both of them.

Your ears and nose woke up before the rest of you. The beeping of various monitors, that sickly-clean alcohol smell. You knew before you’d opened your eyes that you were in a hospital. You’d spent too much time in hospitals with your brother not to know. You blinked against the fluorescent lights, wincing at a sudden, sharp pain in your leg.

Your head still felt fuzzy, and you didn’t remember why you were here. But your confused thoughts were interrupted as one of the most stunning women you’d ever seen in your life rushed at you, kissing your face, cupping your cheeks, and grasping your fingers in hers.

“Honey, she’s awake!” Alex called to Casey, her glasses slipping down her nose as she smiled softly at you, worried hands fluttering over your face, your arms, your body.

Casey quickly occupied the space next to Alex, leaning down and holding the palm of your hand to her flushed face. “I swear to god, Y/N, if you ever scare us like that again…”

You were dreaming. You had to be dreaming. Because a hot woman fawning over you in a hospital bed was unbelievable enough. Two hot women? That was the stuff of dreams, not reality. You had no idea who they were.

The doctors had told Casey and Alex to expect some temporary memory loss and confusion after the general anesthesia. They’d told you, too, but of course you didn’t remember.

Your words felt heavy as they fell out of your mouth, jumbled like marbles. “What’s going on?”

“You broke your ankle, sweetheart, remember?” Alex responded, scooting her chair closer to the bed so she could sit next to you and hold your hand. “But it went septic. You were very sick.”

“Yes, and you scared the hell out of me,” Casey finished, grasping your face and planting a firm kiss on your forehead before sitting down, too. She leaned over the bed railing to rest her head on your thigh, looking up at you.

You’d never felt so flustered and confused in your life. Two women. Two women holding your hand!? Touching you!? But as confused as you were, all the questions in your brain were drowned out by one, single, all-consuming thought: so, so beautiful. You felt like you’d been hit head-on by a dump truck of hormones and emotions.

“You two…” you started, words slurring like you were drunk, “...are so pretty. Like, wow.”

They shared a confused glance as you continued to ramble.

“Please tell me you’re single?” you asked, trying to wink and blinking instead. “At least one of you?”

A smile tugged at the corner of Alex’s mouth, and Casey was barely holding in her laughter.

“Wait, wait, wait,” you said, holding up a hand and gesticulating wildly. “Let me try something. I’ve been working on this.”

Casey’s shoulders had started to shake with laughter, and Alex’s eyes sparkled with mirth.

You hit them with your very best finger guns. “Hey, girl. Are you a savings account? Because I’m accruing interest in you.”

At this, Alex and Casey burst out laughing, falling into one another, equal parts delighted by your post-surgery high and relieved that you were really and truly going to be okay.

“Wait! I’ve got more!” You waggled your eyebrows at Alex, and the way she looked at you, you knew–even in your doped-up, memory-loss state–that there was no need for pick-up lines here. She was already yours. Hook, line, and sinker. But since you had it prepped: “Hey, girl. It’s just you and me in the sheets tonight. The spreadsheets! Let’s budget, baby!”

Casey was laughing so hard she was snorting, and Alex was gingerly wiping tears from under eyes, trying to smudge her mascara. You felt like you were on cloud nine. If you could do nothing else in your life except make these two women laugh, you’d die happy.

“Come on,” you needled, smiling ear to ear. “Look at me, I’m adorable. I’m charming. You know you want to give me a chance.”

Alex coughed, trying to pull herself together, and Casey leaned down again, placing her chin on your leg and staring up at you lovingly.

“Y/N, you know we’re dating, right?”

Your eyebrows shot up and you stared at her. Her auburn hair that looked soft as the surface of water. Her eyes. Her body. “Me and you!? Are dating!?”

“No, we’re all dating,” Casey explained, gesturing between the three of you. “Me and you and Alex.”

You glanced at Alex to confirm and she nodded, smiling cheekily.

Your jaw dropped as you took in this new information. You put a hand on your head as if this was all just too much for you. And, in your current state, it kind of was.

“Me!?” you asked, glancing between them. “You’re… both of you!?”

They nodded, grinning and trying not to laugh.

“Holy shit,” you said, spurring another fit of laughter from the chairs next to your bed. “This is crazy!”

You sat and thought for a few minutes, mouth gaping.

“You alright, love?” Alex asked, running her thumb back and forth across your wrist.

You leaned toward them, as if to share a secret, then gasped sharply at the pain.

“Ow!”

“Jesus, Y/N! Lay back!” Casey complained, trying to sound stern but really just sounding worried. She stood and gently shoved your body back down into the pillows. “I think we broke her brain, Alex.”

“Psst!” you hissed at them, your impaired brain feeling inexplicably salty about being left out of their conversation.

“What, you dork!?” Casey exclaimed.

You squinted conspiratorially at them. “Do we… you know?...”

Casey and Alex swiveled their heads to look at each other, then collectively burst out laughing again.

“Oh, yeah,” Casey assured you.

“We sure do,” Alex added.

“All three!?”

They nodded at you, still chuckling.

“Wow. Jesus fucking Christ. Am I dreaming right now!?”

“Believe it or not, no,” Casey said, watching as your eyes fluttered between open and shut. You needed to sleep. She could tell.

She ran her thumb across your eyebrows and down the bridge of your nose, back and forth, back and forth. A surefire way to put you to sleep. Alex and Casey knew all your tricks.

You exhaled deeply, trying so hard to keep your eyes open.

“Go to sleep, baby,” Casey whispered lovingly. “When you wake up you’ll remember.”

You mumbled as you drifted between sleeping and waking. “I’m not tired. I can’t be tired, I have two girlfriends to take care of.”

Alex and Casey smiled at one another. Alex stood and wrapped her arms around Casey’s waist, planting a kiss on her cheek as they watched you fall asleep.

“Two girlfriends,” you continued, your words losing volume and speed. “The nicest, smartest, prettiest girlfriends. So pretty. So many boobs.”

“God, I wish we’d recorded this,” Casey whispered, placing a soft kiss on your cheek before leaning back in her chair.

Alex dropped her phone onto Casey’s lap, the screen showing an active voice recording.

Casey fist-pumped silently, pulling Alex down by the collar for a quick kiss.

“I love you,” Casey said, unlocking Alex’s phone to send herself the recording.

“I love you, too,” Alex chuckled. She foraged in her bag by the door before pulling her chair close to you, propping up a book with one hand and holding yours with the other. “I love our girl, Case.”

“She’s something else, isn’t she?” Casey observed, smiling softly and shaking her head at your drugged, sleeping form. “How’d we get so lucky?”

“Pure, dumb luck,” Alex decided, flipping a page and absentmindedly rubbing the back of your hand.

Casey stood and stretched, then slumped onto the sorry excuse for a couch in the corner of the room, kicking off her shoes.

“I’m exhausted,” she groaned, pulling off one sock and then the other. “It’s a good thing we weren’t both out of town this weekend. I was up all night with her before she finally agreed to go to the hospital. Stubborn asshole.”

“Reminds me of someone else I know.”

“Shut up, Alex,” Casey protested, grinning, before throwing a sock at her.

“Why don’t you sleep?” Alex suggested, ignoring the sock on the floor next to her. “Get some rest, honey. I’ll wake you when she’s up again.”

Casey nodded and folded her arms over her chest, letting herself drift off, snoring softly as she always did and always swore she didn’t.

Alex set down her book and looked at her two sleepy girls, knowing there wasn’t a thing in the world she wouldn’t do for you and Casey.

“So fucking lucky,” she whispered, drawing your hand to her lips to kiss your knuckles.

#casey novak #alex cabot #casey noak x alex cabot x reader #alex cabot x casey novak x reader #casey novak drabble #alex cabot drabble #casey novak one shot #alex cabot one shot #casey novak fluff #alex cabot fluff #svu #law and order svu #sickfic #polyamory #poly triad #throuple #poly representation

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