For Anyone That Wants To Talk Or Request: I Have…

Late post, but, Chapter 13 of Emily’s Anger is out!

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!

😁

reader is Emily's childhood friend/crush and they run into each other while she's on a case

they catch up after the case and reader spills that they had the biggest crush on em when they were younger

emily admits the same

they enjoyed their time together

plans for meeting up again

fast forward to someone asking someone to officially be their gf

kiss

yaaaaaaaaay

Long Time, No See

Enjoy!

The case had been long, gruelling, bloody and deeply personal. Emily was exhausted, her blazer slung over her shoulder and the tension in her shoulders refusing to let go.

When the team split off for the night, Emily slipped into a bar she hadn't been in for years, a dim, cozy, little place tucked between old buildings, where the whiskey was neat and the music always good.

She was halfway through her drink when she heard the name. "Emily Prentiss?" Her head turned slowly. And her heart stuttered.

They hadn't aged much, tall, still lean and a little broad through the chest, with black ink curling up their throat and arms. Y/N Y/L/N. The Y/N Y/L/N.

Emily's first real crush, her childhood best friend turned teenage enigma, gone before they could finish whatever spark had always hovered between them.

"Y/N?" Emily stood, stunned, "No... fucking way." They grinned wide, a little stunned themselves, their whiskey glass already sweating in their tattooed hand.

"I was gonna say something earlier but... god, you got hotter."

Emily laughed, breathless, "Still don't have a filter, I see."

"I'd apologise, but..." Y/N shrugged, "I always did have a thing for you."

Emily blinked, surprised but oddly warm, “You… what?!” Y/N leaned in slightly, tipsy but honest, voice low and velvet, “Yeah, Em… I had the biggest damn crush on you. Back when you wore ripped jeans and threatened to fight anyone who bullied me.”

Emily blinked, surprised but oddly warm. “You… what?”

Rox leaned in slightly, tipsy but honest, voice low and velvet. “Yeah, Em. I had the biggest damn crush on you. Back when you wore ripped jeans and threatened to fight anyone who bullied me.”

Emily's cheeks flushed. Her mouth opened, then closed, and then, quietly, she said, "I had a crush on you too. Thought I was subtle."

"You weren't," Y/N said, grinning, "I was just too scared to say anything." A silence fell between them, one of those rare ones, comfortable, suspended.

And then Emily took a chance, brushing her fingers over Y/N's hand. "Want to have a drink with me?" Emily questioned, Y/N grinned against, brighter, "Thought you'd never ask."

- - -

Weeks turned into months...

Drinks became dinners. Dinners became nights in, lazy mornings, bodies tangled in rumpled sheets and laughter under dim lights. Y/N was magnetic in a way that grounded Emily, direct, but soft.

They moved slow at first, talking about everything they'd missed. Y/N had built a career tattooing in DC, mostly queer clients, their arms now a living sketchbook.

Emily shared just enough of the BAU.

They flirted shamelessly. And then, there were nights they didn't sleep.

- - -

Present day...

It had rained all day, and the windows steamed. The lights were low, music barely a murmur. Y/N was in Emily's kitchen, shirtless in loose sweats, hair damp from the shower.

Emily came up behind them, arms snaking around their waist. Y/N smiled and leaned into her, "You okay?" Emily nodded, nuzzling her forehead into Y/N's shoulder, "Mmm... just thinking."

"Dangerous..." Y/N teased. Emily bit her lip, then, nervous, but sure, she whispered, "Be my partner." Y/N turned, their brows lifted, eyes wide, "You serious?"

Emily nodded, breath hitching, "I want you... all the way. Not just the sex, the beautiful mind boggling sex, not just the weekends. I want to say I'm yours... I want to know you're mine."

Y/N's answer was a kiss, deep, hot, hungry. Emily backed into the counter, gasping as Y/N kissed her like it was the first time. Clothes fell quickly, Y/N lifting Emily onto the kitchen counter, her legs around their waist.

Their mouths didn't part. Y/N kissed her until her head dropped back, breathless, whispering her name like it was holy. Bedroom, then bed, as usual. Y/N between Emily's thighs, worshipping her body.

Emily's fingers curled in their hair, guiding them, trembling under every touch, breath, and every desperate, quiet moan. They were slow at first, savouring. Y/N coaxing every delicious sound from her.

Emily whimpered Y/N's name over and over.

Then they flipped her gently, their chest pressed against her back. Y/N's mouth brushed Emily's neck, teeth grazing her delicate skin, "Mine?"

"Yours," the Chief whispered, desperate, legs shaking.

They took their time, rocking together, breath syncing in moans and curses. Emily cried out when Y/N's hand slid down her belly and lower, coaxing her over the edge again. And again.

She pulled them down afterward, sweaty and flushed, kissing them hard and messy and open-mouthed.

“I love you,” the Chief murmured, dizzy and spent, fingers brushing Y/N's jaw.

Y/N's smile was like sunrise. “Took you long enough.”

thank you for writing the ihop fic

it was amazing 🤩

Glad you liked it! Feel free to request more of what you’d like to see if you like! I take most requests! 😊🙂

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!

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! 😊

okay so fic request

Emily and our future child decided that they want to make y/n breakfast in bed for their birthday

they tried making pancakes bacon toast eggs orange juice

somehow everything burnt y/n wakes up to the fire alarm blaring

y/n Goes downstairs to see Emily trying to fan smoke away from the smoke detector child is crying at burnt pancakes and bacon and eggs and ruined surprise

ihop was ordered after everything got cleaned up and everyone was calm

They made y/n pretend to be asleep to serve them the ihop in bed

had a great birthday at home with ur fav ppl

(tease Emily about this in the future)

Syrup Kisses 😘

As soon as I got your request, I got to working! Never in my life have I been so excited to write a quick fic! Hope you enjoy!

Summary: Y/N celebrates her birthday with breakfast, kisses, a fire alarm, and iHop!

You wake to the smell first. Unmistakable. Sharp. A scent that slams into your senses like a brick wall, burnt something.

Not just toast. Not just bacon. This is everything-is-on-fire kind of burnt. You blink hard, already halfway sitting up when the shrill screen of the fire alarm blares.

You don’t even bother with slippers. You bolt down the hallway, heart pounding, and when you round the corner into the kitchen, the sight makes you stop short.

Emily, your brilliant, expertly calm, terrifyingly sexy wife, is standing on a chair, frantically waving a flattened Princess doll cardboard box under the fire alarm.

Smoke curls from the stovetop behind her. A scorched pan rests in the sink, billowing what’s left of its dreams. But it’s your daughter, your sweet, earnest Lily, who breaks your heart wide open.

She’s crouched beside the kitchen island, her apron stained, her little face flushed with tears. Her lower lip quivering as she cries, fists clenched tightly at her sides.

“I ruined it!” She screams, voice breaking, “I ruined Mama’s birthday!” You rush to her instantly, dropping to your knees and pulling her into your arms.

She practically collapses against you, small and trembling and sticky with syrup.

“No… baby,” you whisper into her hair, “Hey, hey… look at me. You didn’t ruin anything.” Lily shakes her head, furiously, “I wanted to make you breakfast!”

Lily’s voice bordering on wail, “Eggs, a-and pancakes… and bacon and ju-juice and… coffee, and I-I dropped an egg on the cat… and the bacon caught on fire… and Mommy lied and said it w-was fine… but it wasn’t fine!”

You glance up. Emily looks like she’s aged and greyed ten years in the last ten chaotic minutes, still fanning the air like the fire department might show up.

“I didn’t lie,” Emily whines, climbing off the chair, “I said we could order pancakes if we needed to!” You give her a look, then kiss Lily’s curls.

“Sweetheart. You tried to make me breakfast. That’s the best birthday present in the world!” You confess, your hands gently holding her, “But it’s burnt!” She argues.

You pull her tighter, “So… we pivot. You know what Mama wants more than anything?”

Lily lifts her blotchy face, “What, Mama?”

“Pancakes. That don’t taste like smoke. Which is why… we’re ordering iHop. Right now…” Emily exhales dramatically, as if those two syllables, iHop, were her salvation. “Thank… god!”

You hand her your phone, “You order, I’ll calm our Michelin star chef down.” While Emily taps away on the screen, you rock Lily gently in your lap, her tears slowing, sniffling turning to quiet sighs.

You hum softly, rubbing her back, and she burrows into your neck with a whisper, “I just wanted to make you happy.”

“You don’t think this adorable face makes me happy everyday?” Your hand moves to gently pinch her red cheeks.

- - -

Fifteen minutes later, you’ve wiped down the counters, aired out the kitchen, lit a candle, and even managed to get Emily to laugh at her own morning misfortunes.

Lily sits at the table now, sipping on a plastic cup of apple juice with her head resting on her folded arms, still tired from the emotional whiplash of the morning.

You stretch and kiss Emily’s cheek. “Alright… I’m going back to bed.” Emily raises an eyebrow, “What?”

“I’m going to pretend none of this happened, so you two can try again. Bring me iHop. Act surprised. Got it?” You ask her with a smile.

Emily grins, “You’re such a little drama queen.” You nod, like it was common knowledge, “And you love me for it.”

“Every burnt piece of you.” You add.

- - -

You hear their footsteps before the door creaks slowly open. “Mama?” Lily whispers, careful, tiptoeing. You crack an eye, just enough to see her trying to balance a tray while Emily steadies it behind her.

You sit up, playing along, “Oh wow! Breakfast in bed? For me?!” Lily giggles, proudly setting the tray in your lap. “Happy birthday, Mama! We made this one better!”

You glance down, three golden pancakes, crispy bacon, fluffy scrambled eggs, and a little container of syrup. Everything you love, warm and perfect and not burnt.

Emily perches on the bed beside you, grinning, “You deserve it, hun.” You take a bite of pancake and groan happily, “This might be the best breakfast I’ve ever had.”

Lily beams. “It’s from iHop!” You laugh, mouth full, reaching to cup her cheek. “Still counts.”

She leans in and kisses your cheek, sticky, syrupy, and full of unconditional love. “Best Mama ever!” You sigh contentedly and wrap an arm around her, pulling Emily closer with your other hand.

“Best family ever!”

- - -

Months later…

You’re at the roundtable in the BAU bullpen. The case was hell. Everyone’s tired, weary and needing major sleep catchup.

Someone, probably Morgan, starts a round of “worst parenting fails,” and Hotch is halfway through telling a story about Jack and super glue when JJ turns to Emily.

“Didn’t you almost set your kitchen on fire trying to cook once?” The blonde questioned, Emily groaning as she sank into her chair, “It was a minor amount of smoke.”

You raise a brow. “Minor? The fire alarm woke the cat, and me. Lily cried. We had to order iHop to save my birthday.” Spencer’s eyes widen. “You ordered food and then pretended to be asleep so they could surprise you again?”

“Of course I did,” you say proudly, “I’m not going to miss a syrupy kiss from my daughter or my wife waving bacon in my face.”

Garcia practically squeals, “That is the cutest thing I’ve ever heard!” Emily squeezes your knee beneath the table, “She’s high maintenance, but she’s worth it.”

You grin. “You set off a fire alarm for me. That’s real love.”

Rossi chuckles, “You know it’s love when iHop saves the day!

New angsty piece in my Ghost Series! It’s a bit of a rough one… so buckle in!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/61419313/chapters/157000219

Don’t hesitate to comment or request!

The final chapter is out! Emily’s Anger, Chapter 15!!

Thank you all for following along!! Thank you for all the comments and kudos!

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."