Your personal Tumblr journey starts here
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 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.
reader is COLD
that's all i got
Enjoy :)
Emily sat behind her desk, flipping through case updates with her usual sharp focus, one leg tucked under the other, reading glasses perched low on her nose.
She glance up absently, just a habitual scan of the BAU bullpen, when she caught a movement out the corner of her eye. The newest addition to the BAU, Agent Y/N Y/L/N, sitting stiffly at her desk.
Head down, posture tight, and most notably... shivering.
Emily frowned. Y/N was still relatively new, five weeks in, sharp like her, well-versed in profiling and always meticulous in her reports. But she was quiet. Painfully quiet.
The kind of agent who always showed up on time, worked through lunch and never joined the team for drinks or dinner. A mystery in her own right.
And Emily, against her better judgement, had noticed her a little more than she probably should have. Y/N's thin button up did little to combat the spring chill that lingered in the BAU air conditioning.
Emily's gaze dropped to the bottom drawer of her desk. Without hesitation, she reached down, tugged it open and pulled out her spare FBI sweatshirt. Dark navy crew neck that was soft with age.
She stood, straightening the sleeves. With casual ease masking her fluttering nerves, the Chief made her way down the steps toward the desks in the bullpen.
Y/N looked up halfway through a sentence in her report, blinking in surprise at the sight of her Chief standing there. "Agent Y/L/N..." Emily said softly, offering her sweatshirt, "You looked cold."
Y/N's cheeks coloured immediately, "Oh... I.. uh, thank you, ma'am. I didn't realise I was-" Emily held her hand up gently, "It's alright," Emily smiled, gently pushing the sweater closer. "It's clean. I keep a spare."
Y/N accepted it with a smile, holding the fabric like it was something sacred, "this is really kind of you.. thank you." Emily nodded, lingering for a second longer than necessary, then, her tone gentled just a bit.
"Have you eaten today?"
Y/N blinked again, "Um... no, ma'am. I'm behind on the daily updates... and..." Y/N shuffled papers against her desk. "Emily," the Chief corrected with a warmer smile.
"Come on, it's sunny out, you've earned at least ten minutes." Y/N hesitated, Emily tilted her head, lowering her voice so it was just between them.
"Coffee. On me. We'll sit outside. You don't have to talk if you don't want to." A pause, then, slowly, the young agent nodded. "...okay."
Emily's chest did something traitorous and warm. She gestured toward the bullpen side doors. "Grab your badge. I'll meet you by the elevators."
As Y/N slid Emily's sweatshirt on, sleeves a little long over her wrists, Emily turned to head back upstairs, smiling quietly to herself. The coffee might just be ten minutes in the sun.
But to her, it already felt like the start of something worth being patient for.
if u write literally any penelope garcia x fem!reader smut i will love u forever 🙏🙏🙏 (does not have to be like super smutty if u dont want) (maybe they go home together after a hard case and. relax. a little?)
i love ur writing!! :3
Enjoy :)
The case had taken too much from both of them. Penelope closed the front door to their shared apartment with a heavy sigh, dropping her tech bag beside the coat rack.
Her heart was still tangled in the horror of the week, missing kids, sleepless hours, too much coffee and too little hope. From the kitchen, Y/N looked up.
She was tall and elegant in that quiet, still-water way. Bare feet, tank top, and sleep pants slung low on her hips. Her lean frame moved slowly, muscles pulled tight from exhaustion.
The subtle tattoos on her ribs and inner arms peeked out in the soft kitchen light, delicate and personal. "Hey, love," Y/N said gently, crossing the floor in long strides to catch Penelope.
"You're home."
Penelope let herself melt into the hug, burying her face in Y/N's chest. "I've never hated the world more." Y/N just held her tighter, one of her hands moving to hold Penelope's gorgeous blonde hair.
"I know."
They didn't talk much more. Didn't need to. The night folded in around them like velvet, slow, warm, and insanely gentle. Quiet music drifted from a speaker.
Penelope lit lavender candles while Y/N poured two glasses of wine, then set them down untouched on the bedside table. They kissed slow, Y/N always kissed slow.
Her fingers stroked behind Penelope's ear, across her jaw, down her sides, steady and reverent like she was trying to remind them both what tenderness looked like.
Penelope fell back on the bed, legs open, arms reaching, "Touch me," she whispered, her eyes glassy and soft. Y/N didn't rush. She always liked starting things slow, savouring every reaction, every sound and tremble.
She kissed down Penelope's neck, along her chest, between the soft curves Garcia always called 'too much' but Y/N loved them. Worshipped them.
She mouthed at her girlfriend's breast, sucking gently until Penelope arched up into her mouth. Fingers dipped low. Slow circles. Long strokes.
Y/N slid two fingers inside, curling them perfectly, her other hand never stopping its slow petting over Penelope's ribs, her belly, her thigh.
Penelope whined and gasped, thighs tightening, hips rocking up, one hand tangled in Y/N's soft, sun streaked hair. "I've got you," Y/N murmured, the vibration sending more sensation across Penelope's body.
"Let it go."
Penelope came with a soft cry, back arching like a bow. Y/N stayed with her, kissing every part of her she could reach, waiting for her to breath again.
Then Penelope blinked up at her, smiling, flushed and blushing, "Your turn." Y/N was quick to shake her head gently, "No, you don't have to..."
Penelope, in turn, shook her head, rolling them over with surprising strength, straddling Y/N with a wicked little smile. "I want to." Y/N let her.
Penelope took her time. She pressed kisses to the slope of Y/N's shoulders, licked down the lines of the tattoo on her ribs, traced her hands across the soft stretch of Y/N's stomach, admiring how she twitched under the touch.
Then she slid down between her legs, spreading her thighs gently, kissing the inside of one before curling her fingers into her. Y/N gasped and let her head fall back, one arm thrown over her eyes, the other fisting the sheets.
Penelope sucked slow and deep, fingers matching her rhythm, her free hand holding Y/N's hip still as she moved. Every moan Y/N gave her was a gift.
Every trembling breath, every whispered plea for "just a little more, please," was wrapped in love and gratitude.
When Y/N came, it was like something quiet breaking open, her voice low, shuddering, thighs shaking, body relaxing all at once like the band had snapped. Her body ending its fight against itself.
After, Penelope kissed her way back up, pulling Y/N into her arms. They laid there, heartbeats slowing in sync. Eventually, they padded barefoot into the bathroom.
Y/N ran the bath while Penelope dimmed the lights and brought the abandoned wine glasses on from the bedside. The tub was filled with lavender and honey oils, the warm water almost glowing in the candle light.
They sank into the bath, limbs tangled, bodies soft, heads resting together in silence. Garcia kissed Y/N's temple and whispered, "Thank you..."
Y/N kissed her back, "Always, love."
They stayed in the water until the candles burned low, until the pain of the world faded into the warmth between them, and nothing else existed by skin, breath and the raw and unconditional safety of each other.
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! 😉
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."
do u write criminal minds mlm??
Depends! Which pairing? And what type (eg. fluff, smut or hurt/comfort)? 🙂
I may not write smut for MLM, but I’m happy to write fluff or some sexy flirting or some hurt/comfort!
Let me know! Don’t forget my messages are always open to followers and non-followers! ☺️
would u write m-preg
Probably not! It’s not something I’m well versed in and I’d hate to misinterpret or write something that may not be accurate! Sorry! But thank you for asking and I hope you accept my apologies! 🙂❤️
ok so i kind of want you to write a fic with a fart kink
something with BAU female farting in gn readers face while they sniff it please
Sorry to say, that’d be the kind of kink I’d say no to. Sorry! That’d be one of the stories I couldn’t write. But thank you for your request, and I’m sorry I couldn’t fulfil it! 🙂
Super sorry!
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!
😁
how quickly do u put ur stuff on Ao3
Depends. A lot of the one shots I do on here won’t be on AO3.
I have quite a few AO3 and fandom series, but with recent events like University break ending, and a bit of a personal event going on, my schedule has slowed down.
But it bothers me to not finish things so they’ll eventually be finished!
At the moment, I’ve just been doing Tumblr requests, but I’ve got a few AO3 pieces on the run so I’d say every 1-2 weeks a new chapter of something comes out! 😊
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 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 don't think i've ever read a fanfic where Penelope has a child(ren)
:((
can u justify this tragedy
I cannot, but I can promise a fic with just that, that was requested by an anon user if you give me 1-2 business days! 🙂
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!
if u don't mind me asking do you have an ig/willing to share it?
Sadly, I'm anonymous online for now. Wylix is my online persona and so far hasn't been opened to my actual life. I do have my discord and tumblr all available for messages? :) , my contact info is my top pinned post!
Sorry!
Maybe, if you'd like, you could DM me and I could share it privately after getting to know you?
It's like you were in my brain
again amazing fic thank you so much
No worries! Glad you enjoyed it!! 😊