One Shot Text Messages

just requested a sick reader laundry fic

Could you make the child twins please

If you do end up writing it thank you

Enjoy! Feel free to request more if you’d like! I’m happy to write anything!

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.

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 :)

Rainbows and Storm Clouds 🌈 🌧️

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! 😉

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."

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! 🙂❤️

reader is COLD

that's all i got

Enjoy :)

The Famous Sweatshirt 🥶

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.

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

Chapter 4 of Emily’s Anger out now! Hold onto your hats… it’ll only get more angsty from here!!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/61419313/chapters/157884844#workskin

yes superman and batman 😁

i just want a fluffy one shot

(post identity reveal)

with the whole fam

banter

A Movie Day…

It was a rare day off for the Justice League. Bruce Wayne and Clark Kent, long-time friends and partners in more ways than one, decided to make the most of the afternoon by inviting their closest allies over for a movie marathon. The mood was relaxed, far from the usual chaos of the world-saving they were accustomed to.

Bruce, ever the perfectionist, had already set the living room up to perfection, soft, overstuffed pillows scattered on the couch, dim lighting, and blankets that practically invited people to sink in and forget about the outside world. The projector was already set up, ready to play whatever movies they decided on.

Clark, as always, brought the snacks. He’d used his speed to gather a whole variety of things, making sure everyone’s favorites were covered. Pizza, popcorn, chocolate, and even a few healthier options (just to appease Bruce’s tendency to stress about healthy eating).

Barry Allen was the first to arrive, his usual cheerful energy filling the room. He dropped onto the couch with a laugh, immediately reaching for the bowl of popcorn that Clark had placed in the middle of the table.

“Got the snacks all ready to go?” Barry asked with a grin.

Clark chuckled, sitting next to him. “You know it, Barry. We’re going all out today. Don’t worry, there’s plenty of pizza left for you.

Diana Prince came in next, her presence calming, yet powerful. She smiled softly as she removed her boots, a knowing look passing between her and Bruce. It was clear she was looking forward to some downtime as much as everyone else. Arthur Curry followed close behind, his laid-back, salty demeanor filling the space as he threw an arm around Diana’s shoulders, dropping onto the floor with an exaggerated sigh.

“This is what I needed,” Arthur said with a smirk, sprawling across the floor. “A break from being the king of Atlantis to being a couch potato.”

Bruce’s lips twitched upward as he settled in, snuggling up to Clark, who immediately draped an arm around him. “You’re welcome to make yourself comfortable,” Bruce teased. “But don’t ruin the couch cushions.”

“Relax, B, I’ve got it under control,” Arthur said, waving him off.

The room was filled with the soft sound of laughter as the group settled into place. Diana and Barry nestled into the cushions, while Clark and Bruce found a comfortable spot on the couch, cozy beneath the blankets.

They started with an old classic superhero movie, something lighthearted that didn’t require much thought. Bruce, as always, was meticulously focused on the details of the film, while Clark couldn’t help but laugh at how serious his boyfriend was about it.

Diana leaned against Barry, who was already halfway through the popcorn, sharing a few jokes and comments about how they could do things differently. Arthur, ever the cynic, grumbled at the portrayal of the hero on screen.

“I mean, honestly,” Arthur muttered, “they really messed up the character.”

Clark’s laughter was genuine, nudging Bruce playfully. “See? Even the king of Atlantis can’t escape the occasional bad portrayal.”

“Maybe,” Bruce said, his voice low, “but I’m pretty sure we could do better if we were in charge.”

It was moments like these, when the weight of the world wasn’t on their shoulders, that they felt truly free. As the movie played on, Barry and Diana quietly started to drift off to sleep, their soft breathing filling the space, while Arthur dozed with his head resting against the couch.

Bruce and Clark, the two pillars of the group, simply enjoyed the warmth of each other’s presence. It was a rare, precious moment, a time to recharge, to laugh, to feel safe, and to love. No villains to fight, no crises to resolve, just each other and the simple joy of being together.

The day passed in a haze of cozy cuddles, whispered jokes, and shared snacks. Even Batman, who never truly let his guard down, found solace in the companionship of his friends, and in the quiet, comforting embrace of Clark Kent.

Hope you liked it! :))

Chapter 2 of The Big Question is out now! Enjoy!