I Don't Think I've Ever Read A Fanfic Where Penelope Has A Child(ren)

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

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

sorry new here do u post on Ao3 aswell or just here??

I do indeed post on AO3, my pieces have been a little slow to come out on there recently, but it's under my name, Wylix.

I mostly write Emily Prentiss x Jennifer Jareau x Reader, I have a series called The Ghost! :)

I also dabble in Penelope Garcia x Reader and other tags like Jennifer Jareau x Reader and Emily Prentiss x Reader!

I’ve gotten an influx of Tumblr requests, so for anyone who sent one in, you’ll have to hold your horses, and let me slowly pump them out!!

Thanks for the requests, I’ll get to them as quick as possible!

what are your request guidelines? :3

Truthfully, I don’t really have any. I’ve only ever received two fic requests that I’ve turned down, and I turned them down based on pairings and certain kinks.

I typically write for Criminal Minds and Marvel, and have recently started dabbling in smut so I’ve written a lot more requests than I would have if you’d asked me a few months ago. 🙂

So, it always depends, for now I don’t have any, but I’ll start thinking and maybe I’ll make a post of guidelines for future requests. But for now…

Request anything you’d like to see, and if I refrain from writing it, I’d let ya know!

😁

Quick update! Chapter 7 is out! New chapters will slow down after this one.. going through a bit of a rough time! But enjoy, let me know what you think.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/61419313/chapters/158635573

can u write a fic where penelope is sitting on reader chest on bed doing their makeup for fun

kisses

fluff

domesticated

they have a cat 

Enjoy 😉

The Brushes

The sheets were still warm. Tangled. Lived in. Penelope Garcia sat perched on Y/N’s hips, her robe clinging to one shoulder and doing very little else to hide the masterpiece that was her soft, plush body.

Her thighs cradled Y/N, her favourite highlighter brush poised in one hand and her makeup palette dangerously balanced on Y/N’s chest.

At the foot of the bed, their cat, Basil, watched with half lidded judgement, tail flicking lazily. He was an absurdly fluffy ginger Maine Coon with a penchant for expensive throw pillows and batting at makeup brushes.

He had claimed Y/N’s side of the bed when they weren’t in it, and currently had his head draped over one of their discarded shirts like it was a royal pillow.

“Don’t even think about knocking that brush off,” Garcia said to Basil with a pointed look, even as her fingers titled Y/N’s chin toward her.

“And you… stay still, gorgeous. You’re about to be elevated.” Garcia smiled, Y/N grinning, hair tousled, their tattoos a map of stories across their chest.

They lay back with one hand behind their head and the other tracing idle, electric shapes into the curve of Garcia’s thigh.

“I am still. You’re the one grinding every time you shift.” Y/N mumbled, Penelope gave them a scandalised gasp, though the smirk on her lips betrayed her.

“That is slander, I’m sitting. Artistically.” Penelope giggled, Y/N shaking their head, “You’re sitting sexily, and you know it.”

Their voice was low, morning-scratchy, laced with warmth. She could feel their hands sliding slowly up her outer thighs, thumbs sweeping just under the hem of her robe.

Penelope’s breath caught slightly, but she kept her composure, tilting their face again. “Don’t distract the artist,” she murmured, brushing shimmer over their cheekbone with a feather light stroke.

“I’ll mess up and Basil will look even more disappointed in us than he already does.” She joked, her tongue poking out gently in focus.

From the foot of the bed, Basil gave a faint trill, as if in response. “He’s judging us,” Y/N said seriously. “He always is,” Garcia replied.

“He’s lived a life of crime and drama, and now he thinks our bedroom antics are beneath him.” The blonde joked, Y/N huffing a laugh.

Their hand drifted a little higher, ghosting along her waist with a teasing touch, “Maybe he just wants to be included.”

“If he tries to climb on this bed right now, I’m disowning him.” Garcia pretend seethed, Y/N laughing, head tilting back slightly, Penelope using the opportunity to sneak a kiss to their jaw before fishing the liner.

Sharp, smudged just right, giving their eyes a smokey frame that made her heart skip a beat. She reached for the burgundy lipstick next, murmuring, “Now, the finishing touch. The mouth I’ve kissed twenty-seven times today..”

Y/N smirked, “Twenty-nine. You missed two.” Garcia gave a small, delighted noise and leaned in, brushing their lips with hers before applying the deep, sinful colour.

Their fingers never stopped moving, soft along the insides of Garcia’s thighs, gripping just enough to make her hips roll slightly without thinking.

“There,” the blonde whispered, “You’re lethal.” They smiled, slow and wide, “Your turn.” Garcia quirked a brow and tilted her head, “You want to do my makeup?”

“No. I want to do you again, but I’ll settle for painting your face. For now…”

She burst into giggles, head dropping to their shoulder. “You menace.” Y/N kissed her temple, hand sliding up to rest warmly at her waist, “I’m your menace, darling.”

At the end of the bed, Basil sneeze once, yawned, and rolled over onto his back in a soft pile of fluff and disdain. Garcia looked at him, then down at Y/N beneath her.

“Our little family is so weird.”

“The weirdest,” they agreed, catching her hand to kiss her knuckles.

“And the happiest.”

I read(listen) your fanfiction but I actually insert my name where Y/N is

why was I tearing up while reading the newest one

Because you use she/they pronouns

no one in my real life uses my "they" pronouns

And I just read that and felt whole??/accept

This probably sounds pathetic but

Thank you

Thank you! ☺️ I’m glad that you could connect and feel accepted with my fics! And no, it doesn’t sound pathetic! I’m glad to hear that you (happy) cried, I’m glad that my fics gave you something like that!

I usually use she/her in my ghost series out of habit, but with my requested fics I tend to stick with she/they or they/them so I’m glad you resonated with the newest one! If you ever feel like you need another one like that don’t hesitate to ask! Even if it’s anonymous!

My writing and my fics are for everyone! No one should be afraid to ask for what they want or would like to see in a fic! 😊

Thank you! ☺️

For anyone that wants to talk or request: I have…

Discord: wylixao3

Mail: wylixao3@gmail.com

Or here, on tumblr! My DM’s are always open!

Chapter 3 of The Grandparents now uploaded!

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."