What Are Your Pronouns And Sexuality?

ok so have you ever seen Gilmore girls

cuz i want a Criminal Minds AU with Gilmore Girls

JJ is a single mom and Reader is a diner owner where she visits every single day

Enjoy 😊

The Diner 🍟

The boys were wild with back to school jitters, Michael bouncing in the passenger seat, Henry chattering in the back about pencil cases and which back pack made him ‘look the fastest.’

JJ, single mom and exhausted FBI agent, just smiled and let them run it out. She’d promised them dinner. A treat. Something fun before school started again and schedules got tight.

She didn’t say it aloud, but she needed it too. The diner was tucked behind the block across from the FBI building.

It had red leather booths, warm yellow lighting, a pinball machine that hadn’t worked in years, and a specials board written in swooping, crooked chalk.

It smelled like grilled cheese and cinnamon sugar and comfort. “Welcome to Y/L/N’s!” came a voice from the kitchen window, “Sit wherever you like! I’ll be right out!”

JJ’s eyes flicked toward the voice, catching just a glimpse of a woman with a backwards hat, tight grey tee hugging broad shoulders, and arms flecked with faint scars.

The woman disappeared again before JJ could get a good look, but Henry was already tugging her toward a corner booth.

They ordered burgers, milkshakes, and a shared plate of curly fries. It wasn’t long before the owner came out with menus and a crooked smile.

“Hey there! I’m Y/N,” she said, her voice was low, a little gravelly, “I own the place. Kitchen is short tonight, so you’ve got me for waitress duty too.”

JJ looked up, and for a moment, the world paused. Y/N was striking. Buff, sure. But it was more than that. There was kindness in her eyes, a warmth and gentleness.

She was flushed from the kitchen heat and had a tiny pen tucked behind her ear. “You’re doing great,” JJ said, her smile from ear to ear, “I’m JJ. These two are Henry and Michael.”

“Burgers and shakes for the back-to-school crew?” Y/N grinned at the boys, “You got it. I’ll throw in a couple extra fries… on the house. That okay, ma?”

JJ laughed, “More than okay.”

- - -

The next day, after the school drop off and a soul numbing few hours of paperwork at the BAU, JJ found herself standing in front of Y/L/N's again, her heels clicking softly on the pavement.

She told herself it was because she hadn't packed lunch. Not because of the waitress/owner with the soft, shy smile. Y/N looked surprised but pleased when JJ walked in.

"You again?" She teased, "Didn't peg you for a repeat customer so fast." Y/N smiled, straightening the chef's apron she had on. "I'm very persuasive when it comes to curly fries," JJ told her, sliding into the same booth as yesterday.

“And I didn’t get to say thank you properly. For being so sweet to the boys.” Y/N shrugged, wiping her greasy hands on the apron, "They were cool kids. Plus, you looked like you needed a break."

JJ blinked, "I did." Their eyes lingered. A beat a little too long.

Lunch was quiet, full of little glances and laughter. When JJ left, Y/N handed her a to-go coffee, hazelnut, just like the blonde liked, and muttered, "Come by whenever. I mean that."

Three days later, JJ came by after work. The diner was closing. The windows were steamed, the floors mopped. Y/N let her in anyway. JJ was in slacks and a blouse, hair falling from its twist.

Y/N had a flannel tied around her waist and was barefoot. “You hungry?” JJ shook her head. “No. I’m...” She faltered. Y/N tilted her head. “Then why’re you here?”

JJ stepped forward, took Y/N’s face in her hands, and kissed her. Y/N’s hands hovered at first, unsure, respectful, reverent, until JJ deepened the kiss, tugging her closer by the hem of her shirt.

Y/N made a soft, breathy sound, then wrapped those strong arms around JJ’s waist and lifted her gently up onto the counter.

They made love right there on the counter, laughter and soft moans echoing off the stainless steel and the warmth of an old radio playing in the background.

It wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t perfect. It was electric and messy and sweet. Afterward, JJ lay on her side in a corner booth, Y/N pressed to her back, brushing kisses along her shoulder blade.

They’d kept things simple. JJ came by after work. Y/N texted pictures of goofy food creations. The boys had no idea. Garcia and Emily were suspicious. Reid noticed JJ smiling more.

One night, two weeks after their kiss, JJ arrived with a takeout order, dinner for Y/N for once. She found Y/N on the rooftop of the diner, sitting on an old blanket under the fairy lights strung along the railing.

“You brought me food?” Y/N teased, grabbing the bag. “You’re always cooking. Figured I owed you.” JJ smiled. They ate sitting hip-to-hip, sharing fries and stealing bites.

Y/N wiped her hands on her jeans and shifted, nervous. “JJ?” JJ turned toward her. “Yeah?”

“I like you. A lot. More than I planned to. More than I thought I should. And I was wondering if… you’d want to be my girlfriend.” Y/N finally got out, her hands shaking with nerves.

JJ smiled, cupping Y/N’s cheek with one hand. “God, yes.”

Can you write some Emily x reader sickfic

one with Emily sick and then one with reader sick

one of them ends up in the hospital in one of them

lots of cuddles and forehead kisses maybe even a nice bath(with soft slow orgasm)

Sorry for the late response!

In Sickness and In Health…

Summary: Emily gets sick first, and then, when her girlfriend gets sick too, Emily coaxes her back to health.

Emily Prentiss wasn’t one to go down easily, but when she did, it hit like a freight train. Fever, chills, body aches that made even sitting up feel like a mountain climb. And somehow, her girlfriend Y/N managed to look completely unbothered by the whirlwind she’d stepped into… calm, steady, warm.

“Water,” Emily croaked from beneath a pile of blankets on the couch, and without a word, Y/N was handing her a glass, kneeling beside her with that small, reassuring smile.

“You’re burning up. Drink this, then I’m putting on Sense and Sensibility. You’re due for some emotional regulation,” Y/N teased softly, brushing sweat-damp strands away from Emily’s forehead.

For two days, Y/N became everything Emily didn’t know she needed: soft socks, forehead kisses, cold compresses, soup just the way Emily liked it, blended smooth with way too much pepper. Her favourite tea brewed just right. A heated blanket warmed in the dryer before being wrapped around her. When Emily shivered, Y/N curled up behind her, letting her body heat soothe where words couldn’t reach.

“I’ve got you,” she whispered, every hour, without fail.

And slowly, Emily did get better. But Y/N… didn’t.

Emily knew something was wrong when she woke up to the sound of retching and the unmistakable thud of someone hitting the floor.

“Y/N?” she called, heart racing.

No answer. She threw off the covers and stumbled into the bathroom.

Y/N was collapsed on the cold tile floor, curled in on herself, her skin pale and slick with sweat, breath hitching in shallow, panicked gulps. Her lips were dry and cracked, and her hands trembled uncontrollably.

“Baby… hey, hey,” Emily dropped to her knees beside her, gently turning her over. Y/N’s eyes fluttered open, unfocused. Her voice was barely a rasp.

“You were cold,” she mumbled, confused. “You were so cold—I… I couldn’t find the blankets—” Her body shook violently.

Emily didn’t hesitate. She wrapped her arms around her, holding her steady. “Shhh. You’re burning up, sweetheart. We’re going to the hospital. Stay with me.”

The paramedics came fast. Y/N was too weak to sit up on her own, barely coherent by the time they got her onto the stretcher. Emily held her hand in the ambulance, whispering soft reassurances as machines beeped around them.

At the hospital, Emily stood beside the bed in her sweatpants and hoodie, jaw clenched as the nurses hooked Y/N up to IV fluids and cooling blankets. Her fever had spiked to 40°C, her body drenched in sweat and trembling under the weight of it. Her lips moved now and then, soft murmurs that didn’t make sense, childhood memories, Emily’s name, something about fig trees.

“Is she going to be okay?” Emily asked one of the doctors.

The answer was kind, but cautious. “She’s young and healthy, so we’re optimistic. It’s a nasty viral infection. The fever’s just doing a number on her system. But we’ve got her now.”

Emily didn’t leave the room. She sat on the little reclining chair, feet tucked under her, never taking her eyes off Y/N. She held her hand through the delirium, murmured stories about old cases, about Italy, about their first kiss in the rain outside a jazz bar. She wiped down her forehead every hour and kissed her knuckles when no one was looking.

And when Y/N’s eyes finally focused on her, truly saw her, Emily smiled for the first time in days.

“You came back to me,” she whispered, and Y/N blinked, confused but comforted.

“Where else would I go?”

- - -

The Slow Return to Softness

It had been a week since Y/N came home. She was stronger now, colour back in her cheeks, voice steadier, even if she still got tired walking from the bedroom to the kitchen. Emily didn’t let her lift a finger.

When Y/N asked for a bath, Emily lit candles. Dimmed the lights. Eucalyptus oil in the water, lavender soap on the edge. She helped her undress with slow hands and gentle eyes, not like she was stripping her down, but like she was unwrapping something precious.

She stepped into the tub first and guided Y/N between her legs, letting her lean back against her chest. Emily wrapped her arms around her waist, warm water rippling up over their skin, steam rising around them like a cocoon.

Y/N let out a long, deep sigh. “You make everything better,” she whispered.

Emily pressed a kiss behind her ear. “That’s the plan.”

Silence stretched between them, soft and easy. Then Y/N tilted her head back just slightly, her voice low and hesitant.

“Can I ask for one more thing?”

“Always.”

“I want to… feel good. With you. Nothing fast. Just… soft. Like I’m still here. Still real.”

Emily’s hands tightened gently around her middle. “Okay,” she breathed.

One hand stayed splayed across Y/N’s stomach, the other slid lower, fingers gliding through the warm water, slow and reverent. She didn’t rush. She just touched, gently, rhythmically, as Y/N melted into her, every part of her body relaxing into safety, into closeness.

“You’re okay,” Emily whispered against her neck. “You’re so safe. Let go.”

Y/N whimpered, breath catching, body trembling, not from fever this time, but from the slow, rising tide that Emily coaxed from her with nothing but love. Her head dropped back onto Emily’s shoulder as she came, quiet and soft, a little broken sob of relief leaving her lips.

Emily kissed her temple, her jaw, her cheek. Held her through the aftershocks. Didn’t move a muscle as the water stilled around them.

They stayed like that long after, Emily gently washing Y/N’s skin, arms wrapped around her, soft hums low in her throat, like a lullaby for the woman she adored.

penelope x non binary reader( they/them)

talks of the future together

kids

WAIT ACTUALLY I WANNA SEE UR TAKE ON PEN AS A MOM PLZZZZZZZZZZZZ

Pillow Planning

Hope you like :)

It had started with a quiet night, feet tangled beneath a fuzzy throw blanket, Penelope tucked into the crook of Y/N Y/N's shoulder on the couch.

The television was murmuring something cheerful and forgettable, but Penelope's mind was already far from it, her fingers idly tracing shapes against Y/N's thigh.

"Have you ever thought about kids?" she asked, her voice low, careful. Y/N didn't flinch. Instead, they turned slightly, brushing a kiss to her hairline. "All the time," they said simply.

Their tone wasn't performative or dramatic... it was simple, real.

Garcia blinked up at them, almost too surprised, "Really?" Y/N nodded, "I think... I've always wanted to give someone the kind of safety and home I didn't have. I am so glad I found you... and I think we'd make a weird, glittery, brilliantly kind little human."

Garcia beamed, eyes stinging, "I want that too, I want all of it with you. Diapers, glitter explosions, juice boxes on courtroom steps. All of it."

Their fingers twined, a promise was made, half whispered, half anchored in the silent space between them.

- - -

The Team Barbecue - A few years later...

Garcia knelt by the front door, zipping up a bright yellow backpack adorned with cartoon stars and smiling dinosaurs. Inside was, wipes, snacks, extra clothes, a water bottle, and of course, a small plush fox named Captain Fuzzy.

Behind her, Y/N stood in the hallway, bent over carefully as they guided a squirming three year old into a pair of denim jeans and a bright red t-shirt with a dinosaur on the front, an exact miniature of Y/N's own outfit.

Garcia had demanded it, matching fits, looking good for photos. "Rex," Y/N said, their voice patient but firm, "arms up, big guy. Gotta get these pants up... don't want to be free willing it later."

Rex giggled, sleepy curls falling over his eyes. "I like bath free will," he mumbled. Y/N lifted him easily, smoothing his shirt down, whispering something Garcia couldn't quite catch, but she didn't have to.

It was always soft when Ronnie talked to their son. Always steady, calm.

Garcia zipped up the bag and stood, watching them, her heart just... full. Her spouse, tall, lean, sleeves rolled up to the elbows, tattoos peeking out under the collar of their shirt, was glowing in a way only she could see.

The way they looked at Rex, how they instinctively caught him when he lost balance, the way their arms formed home around him. That was what made her fall for Y/N in the first place.

Their loyalty. Steadiness. Their fire when needed, but never with her. Never with Rex. They caught Garcia looking, "What?" Y/N asked. Garcia could only smile, kissing Rex's forehead, then Y/N's mouth.

"You look good in denim. You both do."

- - -

Rossi's backyard was already filling with laughter and the smell of barbecue sauce and charred onions. Garcia led the way through the garden gate, Rex's little hand tight around Y/N's index finger.

She waved broadly to JJ, Emily, Spencer, and Rossi, all gathered around a large outdoor table with drinks and plates in hand.

"Everyone!!" Garcia beamed, "This is Rex Y/L/N-Garcia, he's... three, he's a dinosaur enthusiast and he is not sure if you are real people or ghosts.

Rex immediately ducked behind Y/N's legs. JJ coming over to kneel down slowly, setting her drink aside and pulling a cookie from a plate. "Hey there, Rex," she said gently, "I've got a dino cookie..."

Rex peeked out.

Y/N leaned down, murmuring to him. "It's okay. I'll come with you... I promise."

With tiny steps, Rex walked out from the safe haven of Y/N's legs, one hand still clinging to the fabric of their jeans. He reached for the cookie with his free hand, cheeks flushed pink, eyes wide.

"There you go," JJ said, holding it out without moving closer. Rex took it, then immediately turned to Y/N, "Dama stay?"

Y/N crouched beside him, "Right here, bug."

Garcia watched as JJ gently asked Rex about his dinosaur shirt, and he mumbled something about 'T-rex teeth' with a mouth full of cookie.

Garcia wiped a stray tear before it could fall, blinking up at the sky for a second. She turned to find Emily beside her, a smirk tugging at her lips. "You okay, mama?"

Garcia let out a shaky laugh, "Yeah... yeah, I just... this is everything. Y/N, Rex, the matchy-matchy denim, the fact that my son just came out of hiding for a cookie... that's parenting. That's our kid."

Y/N joined her then, slipping an arm around her waist, their voice low in her ear, “He’s doing great.”

“You’re doing great,” Garcia said, resting her head on their shoulder. “You’re everything I ever wanted, you know?”

Y/N kissed her temple. “And you’re more than I thought I deserved.”

Garcia sniffled, then straightened. “Okay. Emotional moment over. Let’s get matching lemonade and take family photos before someone spills ketchup on our son.”

*Dama is the name I adopted for another series, it's 'dad' and 'ma' together, more of a non-binary... they/them version of a parental figure name!

Since the person didn't answer i'll request

An Emily X Reader SOFT LAUNCH

where the BAU slowly finds out that Emily is in a relationship (w/a woman)

reader not apart of bau(maybe a chef??)

;))

Thanks for the request 🫦 Enjoy! 😉

The Soft Launch 🚀

For weeks, the BAU had been on alert. It started small, cute, funny little, cryptic Instagram stories from Emily.

A photo of her hand over another, fingers intertwined beside a wine glass and a plate of what looked like the most divine pasta any of them had ever seen.

No caption. Just a timestamp and a playlist linked, “Melt into You, Slow Jazz Sundays.” Then came the lunches. Homemade. Artisan, even. JJ had noticed it first.

“Emily,” she murmured one afternoon, during their usual break between rough cases, "did you pack that yourself?" Emily's eyes cast down to the perfectly layered beetroot and goat cheese tart in a glass container, simply shrugging.

"Got lucky."

Morgan, of course, had smelled something fishy when a bouquet of rosemary, not flowers, rosemary, had shown up in Emily's office with a note attached, "Don't forget the salt this time, baby. -Y."

But no one had answers. Just assumptions.

Then came the night at Rossi's, a few weeks later.

The house was buzzing with laughter, expensive liquor and the warm hum of an early spring evening. Rossi was holding one of his infamous parties, the kind where the wine flowed like a river.

Strauss had gotten tipsy enough to sing Piano Man on the baby grand. Rossi had, apparently, spared no expense on the food this time. "Hired someone big," he said with a smirk to JJ as he poured her another.

"Almost impossible to book, but I pulled strings." Emily, nursing her scotch, froze, "Who?" Rossi grinned, holding his glass a little tighter with excitement.

"Y/N Y/L/N. Apparently she trained in Paris and Tokyo and is probably going to get her second Michelin star before thirty." Emily's glass paused at her lips.

"What?" Rossi looked her over, "You've heard of her?" Emily blinked once, swallowing her worry, "You could say that." And then, like fate tipping its might hat, Y/N walked into the room from the kitchen.

Carrying an amuse-bouche like it was a crown jewel. She had short, tousled hair tucked behind one ear, arms inked with delicate fine-line tattoos, a lavender sprig, a sunflower, a French knife, and a crescent moon.

She wore her pristine chef's jacket rolled at the sleeves, her apron tied snug around a frame that was compact but clearly muscular. She glowed. And when her eyes met Emily's dark irises...

Everything stopped.

The room, the noise, the laughter, every bit of it melted. Y/N lit up, face breaking into the warmest smile and she crossed the space in a few long strides before stopping just shy of Emily's side.

"...Babe," she whispered, "Didn't realise you were here."

Emily looked dazed, then chuckled, running a hand through her hair, "Neither did I." Y/N leaned in and kissed her temple, and the collective BAU jaw hit the floor in unison.

"Holy..." Garcia whispered from across the table, "That's the chef?"

"THAT'S the mystery girlfriend?" Morgan mouthed to the blonde. Y/N turned to the group, cheeks slightly pink but utterly composed. "Hi. I'm Y/N. Sorry for the surprise. I wasn't told who the event was for."

Her eyes flicked to Rossi, "Your assistant booked me under 'D. Rossi Enterprises.' Very sneaky." Y/N smiled to the older man. "You're the Y/N?" JJ blinked, "The pasta queen from Instagram?"

Y/N laughed, nodding her head gently, "Guilty."

And just like that, any awkwardness vanished. Y/N floated back to the kitchen like she was born there, commanding heat and flame and plating like it was an artwork.

Emily, never far from the archway between kitchen and dining room, watched with an expression none of them had ever seen on her. Not even during a case crack.

Admiration.

Adoration.

The soft kind of awe that made her cheeks flush and her lips curl even when she didn't know she was smiling.

At one point, music drifted from the speakers, and Y/N, mid-sear on scallops, turned with a grin and swayed her hips to the beat. She danced around the kitchen like it was a small stage, a pan in one hand and a plating tweezer in the other.

"Is she dancing?" Reid asked in a whisper, "While cooking?" He turned to Garcia, the blonde shrugging her colourful shoulders, "Gordon Ramsay would cry," She whispered back, "Happy tears."

Then came the food.

A roasted duck breast with blackberry glaze, served over parsnip puree and heirloom carrots that had somehow sculpted into tiny roses.

Pasta with lemon cream and shaved bottarga. Each plate was a piece of art, every bite more transcendent than the last. A moan escaping every FBI agent's lips.

As dessert was served, something chocolate and impossibly airy, Emily stood and joined Y/N in the kitchen, slipping an arm around her waist.

"Can I help?" Emily murmured against the shell of Y/N's ear, Y/N just smiled, still focused on plating. "You already are." And when Emily kissed her cheek in full view of the team, Y/N leaned into it without a second thought.

Rossi raised a glass, "To Chief Emily Prentiss, and her not so secret anymore girlfriend." The team clinked glasses, JJ still wide eyed, Morgan nodding with impressed approval and Garcia already on her phone trying to find an open reservation.

- - -

Later, when the dishes were done and Y/N was tucked under Emily's arm on the porch with a glass of wine, Emily whispered, "Soft launch, huh?"

Y/N just turned to her and smiled, "Felt more like a firework finale..." Emily kissed her slow, like gratitude, like peace, like home. "Couldn't be prouder and more in love with you."

Request Guidelines ->

Requests are currently: Open

Hey! If you’re looking to send in a request, here’s everything you need to know!

Fandoms (What I Write For) ; Marvel, Criminal Minds, Occasionally DC or other fandoms - feel free to ask!

What I Write ; Fluff, comfort, cute moments. Angst, Hurt/Comfort. Smut, NSFW. Emotional/Character-driven pieces. Reader insert, x OC, x Canon -> all welcome!

What I Don’t Write ; Please respect these boundaries. I won’t write:

Noncon/dubcon, Incest, Character death, Certain kinks including -> fart, scat, water sports, vore, m-preg, inflation, baby/pregnancy play, anything involving minors or non-human creatures in a sexual context, anything degrading without full consent/emotional care.

If you’re unsure whether something fits, you can always ask privately and I’ll let you know.

Request Format (Optional but Helpful) ; Character(s), Type of piece (eg. fluff, smut, angst, etc.), Specific prompt or idea, POV or Reader/OC details if important, Any preferences, limits or tones you want included.

Turnaround time is usually 1–5 days, but it can vary depending on my schedule

I don’t currently have a queue system, but I do try to let you all know if something’s in progress

Thanks for reading!

I appreciate every request and the trust that comes with it!

Chapter 8 is out! A quick filler before the roller coaster!

some more mother Emily stuff please

Maybe y/n is slightly ill

Emily comes home from being on a two week long case and sees them falling asleep while folding laundry and taking care of child so Emily decides to take child out to the park or something while y/n get some well needed to rest

Comes back home take care of all the chores puts child to bed

Cuddle up with y/n

Fluffy dovey lovey stuff

Enjoy!

When You Get Home

- - -

The door creaked open just after 5, Emily stepping over the threshold with her go-bag slung over her shoulder. Her suit jacket was folded over her arm, her hair back, and exhaustion clinging to her skin.

Two weeks on a joint task force out of state, too long without her partner, too long without her boys. She shut the door softly, locking it behind her.

The living room was dimly lit by soft afternoon sun filtering through the curtains, there was the faint scent of laundry detergent in the air.

The TV played low in the background, something animated. She heard soft giggles. Then…

“Mommy!”

“Mommy!”

Twin tornadoes of joy hurtled toward her. Alec and Theo, four years old and chaos personified, each with mismatched socks and superhero t-shirts, collided with her legs and arms in a tackle hug.

Emily bent immediately, her bag falling forgotten to the floor as she knelt and wrapped them up tight. “My boys,” she whispered, kissing their cheeks one after the other.

“I missed you both so much!”

A rustle caught her attention from the couch. Emily’s head turned, and her heart dropped. Y/N Y/L/N, her partner, her best friend, the love of her life, was curled awkwardly at the end of the couch.

A mountain of clothes needing to be folded, their hands sluggish and trembling, their cheeks were flushed with fever, strands of hair stuck to their temple.

They blinked heavily, as though it took effort to stay awake. There were tissues on the coffee table, and a half-drunk mug of tea forgotten beside them.

Y/N smiled weakly, “I… hi, baby,” they rasped. “I was trying to clean up. The boys were running circles all day, and laundry kept piling up…”

Emily crossed the room in seconds. She knelt next to her partner, brushing the damp hair from Y/N’s forehead. “You’re sick, love,” she said gently, “Why didn’t you call your mom to help?”

Y/N gave her a sheepish shrug, “Didn’t wanna bother her. You were gone. I thought I could manage. I’m okay, just… just tired.”

Emily pressed a kiss to their forehead, already feeling the heat radiating from their skin. “Y/N. You are allowed to rest. Let me take over now, okay?”

“But the laundry-”

“I’ve got it,” Emily promised, “All of it. Right now, you’re going to bed.” Y/N blinked hard, lips trembling like she might argue, but Emily was already helping her stand.

Y/N leaned into her with a sigh, whispering a soft, tiny, “Sorry.”

“Don’t be.” Emily murmured, wrapping her arm around them, “You’ve done everything… let me do the rest.”

Once Y/N was tucked beneath the blankets, humidifier humming, fever medicine given and a cool cloth set on her forehead, Emily turned back to the living room where the twins were currently scaling the couch like a mountain.

“Boys,” she called gently, “how about we go on an adventure?” Both heads whipped toward her. “A park adventure?!” Theo asked, his eyes wide.

“Maybe even… ice cream?” Emily grinned, her smile ear to ear. Alex gasped, “Mommy, you just got home! We can really go?”

“We really can. But only if you help me put on your shoes.”

- - -

Within minutes, Emily was carrying a small backpack with snacks, wipes, and water bottles, her old BAU instincts turning domestic.

The twins were bundled in light jackets, and they set off, hand on hand toward the neighbourhood park.

They laughed on the swings, raced across the grass and climbed the jungle gym while Emily stood beneath it like a bodyguard.

“Good job!” and “Feet first, Theo!” would scream every few minutes as she watched them with a smile.

Afterward, when the boys were tired, they sat in the sun, each of them holding a single scoop of chocolate in a cup. Emily wiped their sticky faces and kissed their heads, her heart aching in the best way.

On the walk home, both Alex and Theo started yawning, leading Emily to carrying both on either arm for the last block.

- - -

Once home, Emily gave the twins a bath, using the bubble soap Y/N always bought because it, “smelled like calm.” They splashed, argued about toys, and asked if Y/N was okay.

“They’re resting…” Emily told them, towelling them dry. “And they’ll feel better soon. But they miss you both very much!”

Theo pressed his hand to his heart, “I miss Mama too.” Emily tucked them into their twin beds, kissed their cheeks and read two short books before they drifted off.

Then… laundry. She returned to the pile on the couch, folding small shirts, unmatched socks and tiny pants while a crime documentary played quietly in the background.

It was oddly meditative.

Kitchen next. Dishes were stacked, counters wiped, bottles cleaned and put away. By the time she turned off the last light, the house had gone still.

Emily padded into their bedroom, stripping down to an old t-shirt before crawling into bed beside Y/N. Y/N stirred with a soft breath, “You did everything… didn’t you?”

Emily slid an arm around them, pulling them close, “Just catching up.” Y/N burrowed into Emily’s chest, legs tangling with hers. “Fever still here,” they murmured.

“I know,” Emily whispered, kissing their damp temple, “I’ll be here all night. Holding you through every degree of it… right here…” Y/N sighed as Emily shifted to make sure they were comfortable.

“I missed you,” Y/N said softly. “I missed you too,” Emily returned.

This might be a stupid question but how do you DM somebody on Tumblr??

It’s under the activity button, so if you hit the activity button and then look to the top of your screen, there should be a little button for Messages! There should be a little blue button in the bottom right hand corner to make a new message with someone!

Not a stupid question at all, I’m happy to help!

If not, I’ve always got discord! wylixao3

reader serenades Emily on a restaurant rooftop in paris it's bought out for the night 

there's a piano

reader decides to go and play a song for Em

maybe even sings

Emily is so in love actually start tearing up(her version of sobbing)

Reader propose to Emily on a secluded rooftop in Paris!!!!

Enjoy Sunflower 🌻

The Proposal 💍

The sky over Paris had just started to soften into dusky lavender when Emily stepped into the candlelight glow of the restaurant's terrace, her black dress hugging her silhouette perfectly with a shawl to match.

Y/N stood waiting in a perfectly tailored midnight-blue suit, open collar just enough to be casual, but polished with her signature edge. She didn't take her eyes off Emily until she reached the table.

Y/N pulled Emily's chair out, brushed a kiss to her knuckles and sat opposite with a look that said she still couldn't believe her luck.

The place was exquisite, crystal chandeliers, gold accents, a view of the Eiffel Tower from the windows, and the sound of clinking glasses blending with the soft jazz coming from the small quartet.

In the middle of them sat an unattended glossy black baby grand piano. They shared champagne and soft laughter through dinner, filet mignon for Emily, duck à l’orange for Y/N.

Dessert was nearly finished when Y/N stood up suddenly, “Where are you going?” Emily asked, brows lifted in amused suspicion. Y/N just smirked, “Trust me, sweetheart.”

They walked across the restaurant to the piano, catching the attention of the musicians as she gently gestured toward the keys. After a quiet exchange in French, they nodded and adjusted their tempo.

Y/N unbuttoned her jacket and sat at the piano, rolling her sleeves just a touch as she placed her fingers on the keys. The first few bars of “La Vie en Rose” drifted out from beneath her hands.

Soft, elegant, perfectly paced. Emily froze, eyes wide, hand gently fluttering to her lips. Then Y/N sang. In flawless French, her rich, low voice rolled through the restaurant like velvet.

" Quand il me prend dans ses bras Il me parle tout bas Je vois la vie en rose… "

Emily’s heart clenched.

" Il me dit des mots d’amour Des mots de tous les jours Et ça me fait quelque chose… "

The band joined in one by one, violin, upright bass, saxophone, like the city itself had conspired with Y/N. Every guest turned toward her, but Y/N only had eyes for love.

When the final note echoed out, the restaurant burst into gentle applause, but Emily didn’t clap. She stood, breathless, teary, and walked straight to Y/N, grabbing her cheeks with both hands to kiss her.

“You are unbelievable,” she whispered against her lips. Y/N gave her a secretive grin. “You haven’t seen anything yet.” They laced their fingers together and led her upstairs, past waitstaff who opened the doors with knowing smiles.

The rooftop was magic.

Hundreds of tiny candles flickered in hurricane jars arranged in winding paths across the stone floor. A scattering of petals curved around a table with two glasses of champagne already waiting.

In the far corner, the Eiffel Tower glittered just above the city skyline. Y/N turned to face Emily, hands slightly trembling now.

“I set this up… weeks ago,” they admitted softly. “I knew I wanted to do it here. In the city of lights, in the city of love. Because you... you make everything brighter. Everything warmer. You make me feel like I’m seeing life in color for the first time.”

Emily’s eyes brimmed with tears. Y/N dropped to one knee and opened the velvet box. “Emily Prentiss... will you marry me?” Emily let out a breathless laugh, crying now, nodding frantically.

“Yes,” she whispered, then louder. “Yes, yes, yes.”

Y/N slid the ring onto her finger, stood, and Emily kissed her so hard they nearly knocked over the closest candle. Paris glowed beneath them, and above them, and all around them.

The brightest part of the city right in front of Y/N's eyes, Emily.

Quick post, chapter 12 of Emily’s Anger is out! Enjoy!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/61419313/chapters/159342865