#wlwfic

[statelysapphic]

Snowed In

S16!Emily Prentiss x Reader

Summary: When a blizzard hits sooner than expected, you spend the night, snowed in, with Emily. Covers the Snowed In/Blizzard square for @storiesofsvu's Holiday Bingo 2023!

Warnings: Brief mention of alcoholism.

A/N: Hi babes! I'm very excited to share the first of four fics I have planned for this holiday season! Thanks for reading!<3

Ao3 Link

“I hate to be the bearer of bad news,” she started, “but that blizzard rolled in sooner than forecast. There are accidents everywhere, even this late at night. I’m not driving home, nor am I letting you.” 

You peeled your eyes away from the report in front of you to look at your boss. The BAU had landed back in Quantico just a few hours earlier, and while Tara, Rossi, Luke, and JJ opted to start their weekend early, you and Emily decided to push through and finish your reports. (You didn’t want to have to worry about it over the weekend; Emily didn’t want you to be alone this late in the evening.) She was giving you a pointed look. The one she used when she had to be the boss. It wasn’t exactly how you wanted to start your weekend, but you weren’t going to complain about some one-on-one time with the older woman.

“I was going to protest, but I know how to pick my battles.” She smirked at your words and cocked an eyebrow. 

“Good answer. Finish up your report, then come to my office.” You watched as she made her way up to her office, the sway of her hips more pronounced than usual. As if she was giving you a show. You tried not to think too much into it. 

You put the finishing touches on your case report and made your way to Emily’s office. Upon entering, your eyes were immediately drawn to the older woman, who sat sideways on a couch, staring thoughtfully out the window watching the snowfall. She was deep in thought, deep enough to have not noticed you yet, her thoughts were not unpleasant. No, not at all. A soft smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. A set of Christmas lights framed the shelves behind her desk and cast a soft glow over her. She looked stunning. 

You had done everything in your power not to develop feelings for the woman, and yet you were unsuccessful. Though, she didn’t help either. You sometimes caught her staring at you in the bullpen from her office. You tried not to think about it too much, chalking it up to her merely observing how you interact with the team. At first, when you would catch her staring, she would quickly avert her gaze. As time went on though, she would stare just a bit longer. A look bordering fondness on her face. 

If the staring wasn’t enough, the two of you seemed to always bunk together wherever a case takes you. You could count on one hand the number of times you bunked with someone other than her. And when you bunked together, she made sure that you were okay: sleeping enough, emotionally and physically well, those sorts of things. You told yourself she was just being a good boss, and you didn’t want to interfere with that. Emily, however, knew she wouldn’t be able to live with herself if something happened to you. And whether or not she was ready to admit it yet, she would feel lost without you. She didn’t make it easy for you.

Emily Prentiss was an excellent profiler, there was no mistaking that. Yet, it took her a while to get a good read of who you really were. You rarely accompanied them to after-work gatherings, whether they’d been at Rossi’s or a bar, so even though you had been on the team for several months, they didn’t know a lot about you. Emily, of course, had gotten to know you through small conversations in your shared hotel rooms and she was excited to spend the evening with you. 

“Knock knock,” you said, almost whispering to not startle your boss. 

“Hey, hey,” she replied, “come on in. Take a seat.” She patted the empty couch cushion in front of her. 

“Thanks,” you replied, sitting where instructed.

“Thank you for not putting up a fight,” she chuckled.

“Like I said, I know how to pick my battles. Besides, figure it’s best not to argue with the boss.” You curled up on the couch, pulling your knees to your chest. 

“I know it’s probably the last way you wanted to spend your Friday night. Especially after a case,” she said sympathetically.

“Truthfully, I’d be doing the same thing at home.”

“Really?” She asked, seeming genuinely surprised, “I would’ve thought you had plans.”

“You’d be incorrect,” you chuckled. “I’m quite boring.”

“I find that hard to believe,” she said, raising an eyebrow. 

“Most of my time off the clock is spent with my nose in a book.” You shrugged, “I’m an introvert working an extrovert's job. But I also wouldn’t have it any other way.” A genuine smile painted your face, and Emily internally gushed. She loved seeing this side of you, where your guard was down almost entirely and you didn’t have to be an FBI agent. Her eyes fell to your lips for a moment, and she quickly adverted her gaze upon realizing what she had done. You, however, didn’t acknowledge it and or the heat that suddenly consumed you. 

A comfortable silence fell over you. Comfortable and familiar, almost. You looked at Emily for a moment longer before you leaned over the couch to retrieve your novel from your go bag. “Speaking of, do you mind? I desperately need to decompress after that one.”

“Not at all,” she confirmed. You dove into the novel, excited to escape reality for just a while.

You were able to read for a while, but soon you found yourself unable to stay focused on the words in front of you, too distracted by the look Emily gave you. The notion of her reciprocating your feelings crossed your mind, though only for a moment. The negative thoughts overshaddowing the positive ones. You feared she would simply view you as a child, considering the age gap between the two of you. You really only had yourself to offer, and you weren’t sure if that would be enough for Emily. 

“You’ve been on that page for a while,” she said, breaking the silence, “I can almost hear you overthinking.”

“You stare at me an awful lot,” you noted. 

“Am I not allowed to admire a beautiful woman?” She asked confidently, smirking and raising a brow. You couldn’t help but laugh at that one. 

“You think I’m beautiful, Emily Prentiss?” 

“I do.” She didn’t hesitate to answer you, and it caught you off guard. You felt yourself blush at her answer, and you knew she noticed. There was no way she didn’t. Unbeknownst to you, Emily had her eyes on you since your interview. And after giving one of the best, she knew she wanted you. Though, she never thought she had a chance. 

“Bold,” you replied, “But I’d be a liar if I said I didn’t have a similar opinion of you.” 

“Oh?” She was surprised, “I didn’t think I’d be your type. I figured you’d go for someone closer in age.” You paused for a moment, allowing the silence to settle, and contemplating your next words carefully. Silence felt like the best option, or some off handed joke about your mommy issues to lighten the mood. But, Emily’s unwavering confidence emboldened you.

“You are exactly my type, actually,” you confirmed. Emily’s face softened, and for a moment you panicked. So when she didn’t immediately respond, you continued, “From the way you command every room you walk into, to the salt and pepper hair. I think you’re stunning.” The older woman held you gaze, almost unable to believe what you had told her, though she knew you were being honest. 

“In that case, you should ask to buy me a drink.” Emily sat forward, resting her elbow on the back of the couch, and holding her head up with her hand. 

“Well you should know,” you paused, “I don’t drink, my parents were alcoholics and so were their parents. But-”

“Is that why you never come out with us?” She interrupted before you could even ask her out.

“Yeah, that’s part of it, it’s not important right now. But, Emily, I would love to buy you a drink sometime, if you’d let me.” 

“I’d say yes, but I know you don’t drink, so I’ll let you buy me coffee.” 

“It’s a date then.” You smiled, knowing this was the beginning of something good. 

Tags: @virescent-v

#emily prentiss x reader #emily prentiss fanfiction #wlwfic #wlw fanfiction #storiesofsvuholidaybingo2023

[whispersmummy]

Guess where I will be... #lesfic #wlwfiction #wlwfic #crafts #fayrw #christmas #festive (at Proud Bar) https://www.instagram.com/p/CllzEDQD_fM/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

#lesfic #wlwfiction #wlwfic #crafts #fayrw #christmas #festive

[rileyverse]

Loki Renards Vitali series heavily inspired Rileyverse, and was one of the reasons why I started writing, because it is hard AF to find lesbian fics that aren't all rainbows and butterflies, because I guess lesbians don't like to get tossed around by bratva/alphas/werewolves ect? Idk. (though the main reason was one of my favorite A03 authors was like GIRL START WRITING DO IT MAN DO IT) And on a whim at like 4 AM I messaged her to see if maybe she'd write some lesbian fics

AND Y"ALL SHE ALREADY DID

cuffs

maybe..MAYYYYBE if we all read this she'll be inspired to write more ff pairings! :D

Also this post is all over the place, sorry. XD

#Loki Renard #wlw #wlwfics

[aubrey-plaza]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Lizzie McGuire (TV) Relationships: Lizzie McGuire/Kate Sanders Additional Tags: set twenty years after The Lizzie McGuire Movie

Summary:

“Well, well, well,” an all too familiar voice says. “If it isn’t Lizzie McGuire. I see you haven’t changed at all.”

“Kate?” she asks, not entirely convinced her brain isn’t playing one big trick on her. “Kate Sanders?”

“In the flesh,” the woman confirms with a tilt of the head, gaze raking down her body in a scrutinising way but contrary to how Kate used to judge every aspect of her, when those eyes lock on hers again, they’re not filled with scorn, an almost delighted smile tugging at her lips. “What’s it been, like, twenty years?”

#GAY LIZZIE MCGUIRE #lizzie mcguire #femslash #wlwfic #kate x lizzie #I have zero explanation for this #lizzie mcguire fanfiction #z e r o #k8 writes

[ticklishraspberries]

Yo! How about 24 or 36 for Leah and Abby? Still reading the book, I'm a slow reader.

drabble prompts!! || accepting!! - thanks for the prompt!! i literally just finished the book a few weeks ago so like no worries lol

24. “You’re the only one I trust to do this.”

Leah was not a touchy person. Well, unless she was close with the person. She really only hugged her mother, Simon, and Nick. Those were the people she felt the most comfortable around, and occasionally she would give half-assed, one-armed hugs to Morgan and Anna. And Nora was like a little sister to her, so she got the slightly more genuine hugs and playful shoulder-punches.

But other than those people, she kept her physical contact to a minimal.

And then Abby Suso came along and wormed her way right into her inner circle of special people, the people she felt comfortable around, the people she could be vulnerable with. The people she hugged. The people she let herself cry in front of, or do the snort-laugh thing that she so despised.

Abby had a way of making you feel like you’d known her since diapers after only knowing her a few days, weeks, months. Even Leah, with all her walls, couldn’t keep herself away from the wrecking ball that was Abby’s smile, her doe eyes and long lashes, her dark skin, soft curls, and her goddamn bubbly energy and perfectly kind heart.

Fuck.

One of the first things that Simon, Nick, and her had learned about Abby was that she was very touchy. She loved to hug, link pinkies, poke, and snuggle up to them. With no shame, mind you.

Although Leah never voiced her discomfort, Abby seemed to sense it and backed off, focusing her attention more closely on the boys, which actually just made Leah jealous, though at the time she had no idea why. Watching Abby sit on Nick’s lap, or play with Simon’s hair, or tickle the two of them made her stomach flip upside down. 

Just a year later though, Abby was not focused on Nick or Simon or Garret or Cam or anyone else but Leah. And, like, school and stuff too. But her affection was still prominent towards everyone; just double the amount towards Leah.

And fuck, it felt good. After years of shying away from most touch, it felt so nice to sink into someone’s arms after a long day. To hug, to kiss, to cuddle. Ugh. It was so cheesy she could puke. But it was true.

“You’re the only one I trust to do this,” Leah mumbled softly one evening, curled up beside Abby, a blanket thrown over their laps and Netflix playing softly on the TV, though that had about one percent of their attention.

“Do what?” Abby asked.

“Just…this. To cuddle with, and all this cheesy couple shit. I used to be grossed out by the idea. But you make it nice.”

Abby put a hand over her heart, a smile curling genuinely on her soft, plump lips. “Aw, Leah! That’s so gay.”

“Bi,” Leah corrected with a cheeky grin.

“My apologies. Bi,” she said, poking Leah’s side.

Leah giggled and batted her away. “If you were anyone else, I’d have kicked you in the face for trying that by now.”

“Trying to what? Tickle you?” Abby asked, raising her eyebrows as if being challenged.

“Yeah, that. Don’t push your luck though. I almost broke Simon’s nose in eighth grade.”

“Really?”

Leah nodded.

Abby tilted her head for a moment, as if weighing the pros and cons of the situation. Clearly, the pro of hearing Leah laugh hysterically was worth having her nose broken, because she pounced with a hilarious mock-battle cry.

Leah didn’t break her nose, nor did she kick her in the face. Or punch, hit, elbow, etc. She just laid back and laughed, though with a good amount of squirming.

Perhaps Leah was touchy, just with the right people.

#leahabby #leah on the offbeat #leah burke #abby suso #love simon #wlwfic #wlw #wlwdrabbles #raspberry drabbles #simonverse drabble

[vmficcatalogue]

wlw Fics

I know someone by resistate -- ‘Are you—’ starts Kaitlyn. ‘A little,’ Tessa says quickly. ‘Is that—is that okay?’ ‘Yeah,’ says Kaitlyn, quickly.

Of Beards and Bad Decisions by eftsoons -- the one where Tessa is gay, Scott is an A+ beard, and the world is oblivious as usual.

Take This Waltz by destinyofshipwreck -- five bed-sharing occasions, over eight years.

I know no rose but this by destinyofshipwreck -- Ten drabbles on the theme of anniversary gifts.

The Kaitlyn Weaver Christmas Experience by ACupcake7 -- "I, Kaitlyn Weaver, am going to teach you, Tessa Virtue, the wonders of Christmas."

Perfect by destinyofshipwreck -- Kaitlyn applies her own lipstick, bright red and glossy, right over the smear that Tessa's lipstick left behind, matte and soft pink. 

it's like drowning by harleeq -- in which Kaitlyn loves Tessa but Tessa and Scott love each other

this is not somewhere else but here by resistate -- The Nashville road trip in sixteen hot takes.

Four strikes you're out by Alielover04 -- What happens when Kaitlyn suggests a foursome and no one says no.

An Anatomically Incorrect Diagram of Love At First Sight by sinkingsidewalks -- She feels eyes on her, a tingle crawling up the back of her neck, and assumes it’s him looking.

only a girl knows how a girl feels by lolohannah -- “You get her every day, Moir,” Ashley answers tightly.

#masterlist #wlwfics #vmficcatalogue

[fangirl-ramblings]

Pairing: Karen Jones x f!reader

Word count: 1096

Summary: You've been sweet on Karen Jones since the first moment you laid eyes on her but you can't make out if she feels the same way 

Notes: Pining, Fluff, wlwfic, CW: mild violence

Originally written for @rdrsapphicweek: Day 2 prompt - Sharing a Cigarette 

~* Tumblr Masterlist | Stories on AO3 *~

Smoke & Mirrors

You watch her reflection in the mirror with fascination as Karen once more brought the cigarette to her lips. Seemingly staring into space at the starlit sky, she casually folds her arm across herself, as if to extenuate her ample bosom in her low cut top before she takes another long drag, blowing the smoke through her soft rouge stained lips.

You knew from the very first moment you laid eyes on her; when she walked into that Godforsaken saloon in the middle of nowhere where you worked, that you were attracted to her. Her smile lighting up the room and the confidence she exuded, by simply announcing to everybody they needed to cheer up as it felt like she'd just stumbled into a wake for somebody's grandma, was just intoxicating to you.

Oh how you long for those lips to brush against your own - hell, right now you'd even settle just to stare lovingly into those green eyes of hers that sparkle when she laughs. You watch for a moment longer, but finally manage to tear your eyes away, lest she get suspicious of your feelings towards her.

She'd often come into that dusty, old,rundown saloon; some nights just talking to you, other nights drinking the night away in the corner while you continued your work as a saloon girl and men surrounded her, While she was often nice and occasionally flirty to you, was it all smoke and mirrors with her? You'd seen how she'd often sweet talk her admirers when she wanted something from them, usually when she was bored and was trying to pickpocket from them. But then again she often offered you a share of her rewards. 

Goddammit - this woman had had your head spinning. Was she keeping to keep you sweet so you'd keep plying her copious amounts of booze? Or was she as interested in you as you were of her? Once or twice the thought crossed your mind to offer your services to her - free of charge of course - just to see how she responded, but you didn’t want to risk the thought of misreading the situation, offending her in the process and then never seeing her perfect angelic face ever again.

   "What a waste of good whiskey" she grumbled in that sexy southern drawl of hers before escorting you to one of the empty rooms upstairs to tend to your now bleeding face. Taking your heroine's hand, you followed her up the stairs and wondered if she too felt the same bolt of electricity as your hands touched or if she had a pool of butterflies fluttering about in the depths of her stomach too.

It wasn't until tonight though, that you thought there could be more to your feelings than just lust. A particularly nasty John, with a bad reputation that proceeded him, had taken offence to you not wanting to go upstairs with him and so, struck you so hard that you stumbled and hit your face on the bar. He would've most likely inflicted more damage had Karen not picked up the bottle from her table and smashed him over the head with it.

She had cleaned up your face the best she could, gently running a damp cloth over your wound and it took all your might not to kiss her there and then. 

And that's where you both found yourselves now; Karen stood by the open window, face illuminated by her cigarette with smoke billowing around her, while you sat on the bed watching her in the mirror.

Regaining your composure, you smiled and whispered a soft but sincere "Thank you" before something flashed across Karen's eyes causing her to simply nod and move to stand by the window, lighting up a cigarette to try distract her mind.

You're so wrapped up in your thoughts and admiring her ethereal beauty and that you don't quite realise she has outstretched her hand towards you.

   "You keep lookin' over - you want a smoke or not?"

You stumble over your words, flustered that she was aware you were watching her; but then again there always was more to Karen Jones than just a pretty face. You gratefully take the cigarette from her; even though you both know you don't really smoke, allowing yourself a brief moment of joy as your fingers brush against her ivory skin, careful to take the cigarette from where it rests between her two fingers.

She smirks as she watches you tentatively place it against your lips, your mind whirling thinking this would probably be the closest to sharing a kiss with the woman of your dreams.

     "Somethin' tells me you want more of a poke than a smoke from me" she laughs uproariously, once more bringing you out of your daydream. Unable to fathom a reply, you feel your face growing redder and hotter by the second; and not because of the flickering flames of the open fireplace. "Relax, I've saw the way you've been lookin' at me."

     "What...no...I…" Once more words failed you as Karen waited for your response. "God, Karen - I'm sorry I, ..." your words suddenly muffled as her hand is placed upon the back of your neck, pressing her lips against yours. Parting your own mouth slightly, she took the opportunity to let her tongue slide past your lips. Caught up in the moment, you respond in kind, throwing the cigarette into the fire and placing your hands on her waist.

   "No need to be sorry" she smiles as she breaks from, sitting on your lap with her arm draped around you, "I've wanted to do that since the moment I first laid eyes on you."

You sit with your jaw agape that this actually happening "You did…?"

   "Why do you think I spend so much time in this shithole?" She asks, tracing a finger along your jaw before softly kissing along your neck, "Plus I wasted a perfectly good bottle of whiskey defendin' your honor. When have you ever known me to willingly give up my booze for anyone," her hearty chuckles vibrating against your skin, "I just wasn't sure if I was imaginin' you felt the same way"

Grinning at her, you simply reply "I do, I always have done, but tonight just confirmed it all." You find yourself laying back with her still in your arms. Brushing a loose curl from her face "I think now would be a good time to make up for all that time we've missed out on, don't you?"

   "Oh honey, I thought you'd never ask"

#karen jones x f!reader #rdr sapphic week 2020 #fangirl writes #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 fanfic #why tumblr is this not showing in the tags?

[laudna]

if you’re a fic writer who writes wlw fics (whether they’re otp based or x reader ones) and want to be featured on the blog just either send me the fic or tag @wlwfics

[statelysapphic]

Doctor Blake

Alex Blake x Reader

Summary: When Alex hears you've come down with the flu, she takes it upon herself to nurse you back to health. Covers the Cold & Flu Season square for @storiesofsvu's Holiday Bingo 2023!

Warnings: Mild descriptions of illness, mostly flu symptoms. Fluff.

A/N: Hi babes! I know I said I had four different holiday fics for yinz, but life has been much busier than expected. I'm hoping to finish up another soon for ya. Anyway, here's some Alex Blake fluff. Thanks for reading! <3

Ao3 Link

You felt like shit. Laid on your couch, under a mountain of blankets, yet you still felt like ice. Your muscles ached like no other, and your chest hurt from the near-constant coughing. Your throat was on fire, your head was pounding, and your mind was foggy. You really weren’t sure what time it was, or even what day it was, just that everything hurt. You knew you were dozing off now and again, but soon, you were unable to distinguish between what was real and what was a dream. (Undoubtedly caused by the fever)

Alex was immediately concerned when she heard you had come down with the flu. Doctor's offices and hospitals were inundated with patients, though she knew you wouldn’t be one of them. You were too damn stubborn to ask for help on a good day, and you definitely wouldn’t be asking for help while you were sick. She made the executive decision to take care of you, whether you liked it or not. You had given her an extra key to your place, after all. (In case of emergencies, of course.)

The older woman had spent her entire morning perfecting your favorite recipe. One she jumped through hoops to get, but she would do anything for you.

When she stepped foot into your apartment, the first thing she noticed was your soft snores from the couch. Lightly padding through the living room, Alex was met with the sight of you burrioted in at least three blankets, only your pale face showing. Cough drops, medicines, and an empty tissue box were littered across the coffee table, clear signs you were not well. Your current state only reaffirmed her decision to take care of you. She moved into the kitchen and started to unpack the dinner ingredients. 

You woke up coughing and confused but feeling slightly better than you had been. As you were trying to make sense of your current situation, you heard your refrigerator door close. You knew you should have felt some sort of panic, but you didn’t. You listened closely for another moment before hearing the kitchen sink turn on. Confused, you shuffled through your living room into the kitchen. 

~

“Alex?” You asked, rubbing your eyes, “What are you doing here?”

“It’s been a few days since anyone has heard from you and I know you don’t always take the best care of yourself, so I figured I would stop by and check in on you.” 

“You shouldn’t be here,” you croaked out, “I don’t want to get you sick. I’ll be okay, don’t worry about me. I’ll be back in the office by tomorrow, no doubt.” 

“Sweetheart,” she started, calmly, “What day of the week is it?”

“Thursday,” you said confidently, though you really didn’t know.

“It’s Saturday.”

“No way.” She laughed at your skepticism. 

“Yes, way.” You stood in place, eyes squinting, confused by the passage of time. “See, this is why you need me. Now, take this and go lay down on the couch. I’m going to get dinner started.” She handed you a glass of water and some Tylenol.

“Dinner?”

“Yes, dinner, now please go lay down.” She pressed a kiss into your burning forehead before gently pushing you towards the living room. Doing as you were told, you laid back down on the couch. 

Alex, however, got to work in your kitchen. She had spent the morning in her kitchen, following your grandmother’s pierogi recipe. She figured making the dumplings would be a messy process and she didn’t want to make a mess of yours. Alex filled a pot with water, putting it on high heat. Once at a boil, she cut the temperature back until the water gently simmered. She cooked the pierogi for a few minutes, just until they floated to the top of the pot. Melting butter in a pan, she sauteed some onion and fried the pierogi until they were golden brown. She remembered to serve them with a helping of sour cream and chopped chives.

You were stunned when she set the plate on the coffee table in front of you. You were even more stunned when she began cutting the pierogi into smaller, bite-size pieces and began to feed you. When the first bite hit your tastebuds, you could tell the dumplings were homemade, and that you’ve had them before. It was your comfort food after all.

“‘Lex?” you croaked. 

“Yes, sweetheart?” She replied. 

“Are these my babcia’s pierogi?”

“Indeed,” she answered softly, scooping another bite into your mouth.

“How did you-” you pause, losing your train of thought. 

“Get the recipe?” You nodded, “I may or may not have gone into your file looking for your emergency contact information so that I could call your parents to get it from them.” You stared at her for a few moments, a confused look on your face, so she continued. “You once said that there wasn’t anything a plate of your grandmother’s pierogi couldn’t fix. I just figured you could use a good comfort meal.” She smiled, pushing the fork towards you again. You were unsure how she could go through all of the trouble and be so blase about it.

“This is too much, Alex,” you squeaked, “You really didn’t have to do all of this for me.”

“I take care of my friends.” Again, blase, and a bit dismissive. She didn’t want it to be a big deal, because, to Alex, it wasn’t. She’d give you the moon and the stars if she could.  

“Do you do this for all of your friends?” You asked. She hesitated to answer.

“No,” she sighed.

“Can I ask why you did this for me?” Your brain told you it was probably her motherly instincts, but you wanted to know her reasoning. Alex stared at the dinner plate; You could tell she was fighting an internal battle, unsure of what she should say next. Alex met your gaze, her eyes shone with unshed tears. Concerned, you sat forward and rested a hand on hers. Her eyes darted left to right, looking into yours. Then, briefly, her gaze drops to your lips, and right back to your eyes. It clicked. 

You had assumed your chances of landing a date with Alex Blake were low, even though you two were the closest on the team. The two of you worked like a well-oiled machine, often working better together than apart. You spent so much time together in the office and in the field, that being alone was, well, lonely. More so than before you had met. Days in the office turned into evenings at one of your homes, simply enjoying each other's company. 

You noticed the signs quickly though. Whenever you laugh, you look her way, hoping to see her smile too. You sought her out in every room, and when you found her, you couldn’t keep your eyes off of her. You learned to hide it quickly though, she was a profiler, after all. And though you were too, Alex hid her feelings better. She was also in denial. She didn’t ever think someone ten years her junior would show any romantic interest in her, let alone a woman. The doubt bubbled within her, and the fortress she built around her feelings for you started to crumble. Tears she had been fighting rolled down her cheeks. “‘Lex,” you whispered, “It’s okay. I’m falling in love with you too.” You were shocked you admitted your feelings so easily, and for a moment you panicked. But Alex simply relaxed and a soft smile formed on her face, which calmed your nerves instantly. 

“I was hoping you’d say that.”

Alex fed you the rest of your pierogi and finished hers as well. You knew with Alex taking care of you that you would be feeling better in no time. She stuck around until Monday morning when she insisted you take the day off to recuperate, even though you felt significantly better.

“Fine,” you sighed, defeated, “I’ll take another day, but only if you let me cook for you later this week. If we don’t have a case, that is.” You found yourself lost in her eyes for a moment, just as she stared into yours. Soft hands cupped your cheeks as she swept some hair out of your face.

“I think I would enjoy that.” Alex smiled before kissing your forehead. “Now, get some rest, will you? And drink more water.” 

“Yes, Doctor Blake,” you replied. As Alex left for work, and the door shut with a click, you whispered, “I love you.”

As Alex shut the door behind her, making sure the lock clicked into place, she whispered, “I love you.”

#alex blake x reader #criminal minds fanfiction #alex blake fanfiction #storiesofsvuholidaybingo2023 #wlwfic #wlw fanfic

[statelysapphic]

Bonus Mom

Alex Blake x Fem!Reader

Summary: As your relationship with Alex Blake progressed, you knew you would have to win over her son Ethan. Your efforts prove successful in ways you didn't imagine.

Warnings: Brief mention of divorce. Canon Divergence. Let me know if I missed any<3

A/N: Hi all! Hope everyone is doing well! Here's a little Alex Blake fic for you. I was recently inspired by @prentiss-theorem's fic Persuasion and also wanted to give Alex Blake the happiness she deserves. That being said, Ethan is alive in this. I'd love to know what you think! Thank you! <3

Ao3 Link

“And here you are, Ethan,” you said, placing his plate on the table in front of him, “two super fluffy chocolate chip pancakes and some bacon, just for you.” He smiled widely at the feast before him, licking his lips in anticipation. They’re his favorite, and he won’t let you forget it. Although you don’t like to brag, you know you make a damn good pancake, having Ethan’s seal of approval was an ego boost. Smiling, you ruffled the boy’s hair and turned around to check on Alex, who sat beside her son. “More coffee, love?” You asked.

“No thank you, sweetheart,” she smiled, “Sit and drink yours before it gets cold.” You placed a kiss on her forehead and made your way around the table to sit across from Alex. You loved the mornings when the three of you could eat breakfast together, especially when Alex didn’t have any work to attend to, like this morning. You picked up your warm mug and moved it up to your face, inhaling deeply, before sipping on the light roast. 

Ethan signed dramatically at the first bite of his breakfast. “Your pancakes are my favorite!” He exclaimed, “Thanks, mom!” the boy beamed at you. 

What?

You paused, noticing Alex had done the same. The muscles in your face relaxed for a moment before you felt tears collect in the corners of your eyes, blinking away unshed tears. “Of course, buddy,” you replied quickly, not wanting to make a big deal out of it. Perhaps it was a mistake, and the last thing you wanted to do was embarrass him by commenting on it. Though, you would be lying if you said you didn’t melt a bit at the title. You didn’t think you would ever be a mother, knowing you didn’t want to give birth to a child. But when you met Ethan close to a year into your relationship with Alex, you knew you wanted to be a motherly figure for him. But you never expected him to want to call you mom. It was something you could get used to. 

You looked at Alex, who was wiping away tears before her son could see. You knew this was a big step within your relationship. Early on, she expressed concern over how Ethan would react to the relationship. Though her divorce from James was amicable, and the two got along post-divorce, she knew it affected her son emotionally, so the fact that you and Ethan got along meant the world to her. 

“Is it okay that I called you mom?” The boy asked, nerves present in his voice. 

“Of course it is, Ethan.” You smiled, “You can call me whatever you feel most comfortable with.”

“That’s what Dad said too,” he replied. 

“You asked your dad about it?” Alex asked. Ethan simply nodded in reply, taking another bite of his breakfast. “And he said you should call her whatever you feel most comfortable with?” She questioned the boy once again, receiving another nod from him.

“He said if she treats me and loves me like her own son, then it wouldn’t be a problem to call her mom. After all, it is pretty cool to have a bonus mom.” 

“Well he’s right,” Alex said, without hesitation, “Bonus moms are pretty cool.”

The tears that you had held back began to flow freely. Wanting to hide them from Ethan, you stood to make your way to the kitchen, but not before planting a kiss on top of the boy's head and whispering, “You are the best son I could have asked for, Ethan. Just bring your plate to the kitchen when you’re done. I’m going to start the dishes.”

You padded through the kitchen to the sink and started washing the breakfast mess, still reeling from the events that just transpired. As a child of divorce yourself, you knew how difficult it could be to accept a parent’s new partner. You never wanted to overstep or push any boundaries with Ethan, always allowing his mother to be the parent. You didn’t want the boy to feel forced into having a relationship with you, so you let him set the pace. Thankfully, your anxieties were squandered shortly after meeting him.

It had been almost a year since Alex introduced you to her son. The first few times the three of you spent time together had been spent outside of their home: the movie theatre, a restaurant, and even mini-golfing, per Ethan’s request. Public dates turned into private evenings at home, just the three of you, after just two months because Ethan wanted to show you his Lego collection. Dinner and movie nights turned into weekend sleepovers, which turned into some weekday sleepovers. Now, you only spend one or two nights a week at your place. And you wouldn’t have it any other way. 

You were so lost in your thoughts that you failed to hear Alex walk into the kitchen, only becoming aware of her presence when she wrapped her arms tightly around your waist. “You okay?” She asked, pressing a kiss into the side of your neck, letting her soft, velvety lips linger. You tilted your head to give her more access and hummed in response. 

“I don’t think I’ve ever been better,” you said, realizing at that moment just how perfect everything was. That you were living a life you’ve always dreamt of. 

“Good. Me too,” she whispered, “But you can make things even better by moving in with us.” You dropped the half-washed bowl in the sink with a clatter and spun around in the woman’s arms.

“Really?” You asked excitement in your voice.

“Of course,” she replied, leaning into you to rest her forehead on yours, “You’re here most of the time anyway, and the little man of this house specifically requested it.” You both chuckled. 

“How can I say no to that?”

“I don’t think you can,” she said, capturing your lips with hers. You could feel the love she was pouring into the kiss as she held you tighter. She pulled away first, releasing her grip on your waist as well, before turning around and yelling, “She’s moving in, Ethan!”

“WOO!” You heard the boy yell from the dining room, causing you and Alex to laugh at his excitement. 

“Thank you for loving him,” Alex said as her face softened and eyes burned with unshed tears. 

“Loving you means loving him, and he made it easy,” you replied. “You don’t have anything to thank me for. He’s an amazing kid, Alex, and I’m thankful to be a part of his life.” She cupped your cheeks and kissed you again, just as deep and loving as before. You pulled away first this time and whispered, “Go, I’ll finish the dishes.” She kissed the tip of your nose before returning to the dining room. 

You smiled to yourself, knowing this was something you would cherish forever. 

#alex blake x reader #wlw fanfic #wlw fanfiction #wlwfic #criminal minds fanfiction

[statelysapphic]

🎁December Fic Schedule🎄

12/4: S16 Emily Prentiss x Reader

12/11: Larissa Weems x Reader

12/18: Alex Blake x Reader

12/25: Melissa Schemmenti x Reader

I’m so excited and I cannot wait to share these with you!🫶🏻

#emily prentiss x reader x alex blake #larissa weems x reader #alex blake x reader #melissa schemmenti x reader #wlwfic #wlw fanfic #also I’m totally posting this to hold myself accountable

[statelysapphic]

Thank You For The Music

Larissa Weems x Fem!Reader

Summary: Larissa finds you in the music room late one night. Song Fic.

Warnings: None, but let me know <3

A/N: Hi friends! I finally wrote a Larissa Weems fic, and I hope I've done her justice. This is lightly edited. As always, feedback is appreciated. Thanks for reading! <3

Ao3 Link

“I’m nothin’ special, in fact, I’m a bit of a bore.”

Larissa stopped in her tracks. Her eyes narrowed as she shifted her gaze to the door beside her, slightly ajar. Yes, this was the music room. But the voice she heard producing the melody was not that of the music teacher. And at the late hour, she hoped it wasn’t a student.

“When I tell a joke, you’ve probably heard it before.” 

The voice. Angelic, unfamiliar. Captivating. Raising an eyebrow, the Principal tiptoed toward the door.

“But I have a talent, a wonderful thing,” 

You do, Larissa thought to herself, feeling entranced by the music flowing from the room in front of her. 

“‘Cause everyone listens when I start to sing, I’m so grateful and proud. All I want is to sing it out loud,”

Without realizing it, the Principal moved closer and closer to the source until the mysterious musician was in view. Her jaw dropped. Although she wasn’t sure whom to expect, she definitely didn’t expect it to be you, the new History Teacher at Nevermore Academy.

“So I say thank you for the music, the songs I’m singing,”

As you belted out the chorus, still unaware of your boss’s presence, Larissa began to feel somewhat guilty. She had been so busy with her duties as Principal that she really hadn’t gotten to know you, though you had been here for a few months now. Outside of the hiring process, the only interaction she had with you was when you asked to include a few Normie History lessons in the curriculum, to which she was more than willing to oblige. She knew what you looked like on paper, but not you. And whether or not she was ready to admit it, Larissa wanted that. 

“Thanks for all the joy they are bringing. Who can live withou-“

Larissa had shifted slightly, causing the floor beneath her to creak loudly and you to stop singing. The blonde held her breath, feeling her face warm as she watched your body tense and turn to face her. She had been caught, and well, so had you. 

“Goo- Good evening, Principal Weems,” you manage to choke out as you feel your anxiety begin to rise, immediately thinking she’s here to reprimand you. “I hope I haven’t disturbed you; I realize it’s quite late.” 

“Please, darling, call me Larissa,” she said, “And no, you haven’t disturbed me. I’m just thankful you aren’t a student,” she chuckles, “because you saved me a lot of paperwork.” Larissa smiles softly, hoping to ease the younger teacher's mind. “I am curious, however, as to why you are teaching History instead of music. You have a lovely voice.” 

Larissa moved further into the music room, quietly shutting the door behind her before she sat on a folding chair adjacent to the grand piano. “Well, I supposed music has always been more of a hobby,” you offer, “that, and most Normie schools don’t cut funding to the history department.” Larissa burst into laughter at your nonchalant response. You decided then and there that it was the most wonderful sound to ever grace your eardrums, and you’d stop at nothing to hear it again and again and again.

“I suppose you’re correct,” she replied, still chuckling to herself. A comfortable silence fell and hung only for a moment before she asked, “Care to finish your tune? Abba, was it?” Gesturing to the piano. “For me, of course.”

“Su- Sure.” You nodded, body stiffening. A wave of panic crashes into you at the prospect of performing for your boss. You closed your eyes for a moment and took a deep breath, reminding yourself that she had already caught you singing, and if she hadn’t enjoyed it, she wouldn’t be asking you to continue. Larissa watches intently, taking note of how quickly you squandered your fear. The way your shoulders dropped, your back straightened, and your fingers flowed across the ivory keys.  

As you began to play, Larissa found herself mesmerized by the soft but confident timbre of your voice. No, she didn’t know you well. But she did know that it took a specific type of Normie to apply for a position at Nevermore, especially after the incident that occured the previous school year. Your resume stood out to Larissa, and your experience and education put you miles ahead of other candidates. But it was your acceptance of and respect for Outcasts that made her choose to hire you. However, it was the intensive background search Sheriff Galpin conducted that truly solidified your position on the Nevermore staff.

As the song came to an end, Larissa lightly clapped her hands together, offering you a toothy smile. “You’re quite talented, Professor,” she affirmed, “And might I say, I’m quite impressed at how well you’ve acclimated to life here. Though the students were apprehensive about welcoming another Normie teacher, they speak highly of you.” 

“You’re too kind, Larissa.”

“I mean it,” she asserted, raising her brows, “You’re a fantastic addition to our staff.” Her words wrapped you in a warmth you hadn’t felt in years. A small grin tugged at the corners of your mouth. 

“Thank you, Larissa, that means a lot coming from you.” For a moment, you found yourself lost in the womans eyes. And though you weren’t certain, she seemed to have done the same. A comfortable silence fell between the two of you. Something about it felt familiar, which caused you to begin playing once again. Nothing in particular, just a relaxing melody to fill the empty space. 

You glanced up at the older woman. Her head leaned slightly to one side, eyes closed, and the softest grin painted her face. You couldn’t help but wonder what she was thinking about, given her body language. Not an ounce of stress in sight. She looked beautiful. You have a lot of respect for Larissa and what she does for the school and for her students. A few minutes pass and you decided to wrap up your tune when you noticed your boss begin to yawn. A feeling of pride settles within you knowing you were able to relax the woman. After all, she was alo awake at this unholy hour. 

“Would you like to accompany me to the Weathervane for a hot chocolate on Saturday morning?” Larissa asked. “I realize I haven’t taken much time to get to know you, and I would like to change that.” She paused, gaining the confidence to add, “There’s also a lovely little book shop around the corner that I think you would adore.”

“I’d like that very much.”

“Wonderful.” Larissa stood from her chair and gracefully made her way to the door. Silently, you admired the woman before you. Her gentleness, benevolence, beauty, and hospitality all at the forefront of your mind. Although you had yet to learn the intricate details of her life, you knew the type of person Larissa Weems was. And you were falling in love already. “And get some rest, will you?” She asked, smirking and raising a brow. “Goodnight, Professor.”

“Goodnight, Larissa.”

#larissa weems x reader #wlwfic #wlw fiction #larissa weems fanfic #larissa weems imagines #Spotify

[statelysapphic]

Letters to Emily - Part II.

Emily Prentiss x Reader

Summary: You and Emily are reunited after seven months.

Warnings: Hurt/Comfort, Talk of Substance Abuse, Implied/Reference to Alcoholism, Implied/Reference to Drug Addition, Mention of Scorpions? (There's a happy ending, I promise)

A/N: Hi, Babes <3 I'm very happy with how Part Two turned out, so I hope you enjoy it. As always, feedback is appreciated! Thank you for reading. <3 Ao3 Link.

“Em… Emmy?”

~

You’re frozen in place, unable to move. Unsure of what to think. Instinctually, you close your eyes for a few seconds. You had experienced hallucinations of your dead lover in the earlier stages of your grief when you numbed the pain with pills and filled the void with alcohol. You half expected her to be gone when you opened your eyes, but she wasn’t. 

How? How was this possible? Was she real? She looked like your Emily, but she looked exhausted. She was hunched into herself, her head hung low, puffy, red eyes spilling tears, and staring at the floor. Emily used to enter every room like she was in charge of it, standing tall with her commanding presence. Here, she couldn’t have looked smaller. Your head felt like it was spinning, as did the room. Your chest tightened, a noticeable lump formed in the back of your throat, and a wave of nausea washed over you. Your body felt hot and you started to hyperventilate. 

Emily hadn’t looked at you yet, though there was no way she didn’t know you were standing there. You open your mouth to say something, anything, but you only managed to make a small, audible squeak as your tears begin to flow freely. Still, Emily sat, staring at the coffee table in front of her. Frustration bubbles within you. After everything you had been through over the last seven months, you expect her to have an explanation, and at the very least acknowledge you. 

“Emily Jean,” you choked out, “Look at me. Please.” You begged.

You watched as the raven-haired woman took a deep breath in, turning her head towards you. Finally, your eyes meet hers and you felt the world stop, just as it did when you met her all those years ago. Her eyes soften and the corners of her mouth turn up slightly. There she is. 

“Hi, Princess,” she whispers, quickly wiping away the streaks of tears that covered her face. Emily stood up and cleared her throat, “I know you have a lot of questions, and I will answer-“ She’s quickly cut off by the feeling of your arms as they wrapped around her body, one of your hands cradling her head. A feeling of safety and warmth flooded Emily, one that she had not felt in months. One she feared she would never feel again. She started to sob and she reciprocated your embrace. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” she choked out quietly between sobs. 

“Shhh…” You hushed her, gently stroking her hair. “It’s all okay, Em. It’s all going to be okay. I’ve got you.” You tucked your head into the crook of her neck and inhaled deeply, soaking in the familiar scent that you had almost forgotten. “And I’m not letting you go again. Just let me hold you.” Emily allowed herself to melt into you, to really feel you once again. Gently, you lowered your two bodies onto the couch. 

The two of you sat there, holding each other for a while. You weren’t sure how long, but it was daylight when you got home and now the living room is almost entirely dark. “Hey,” you whispered, “I’m going to turn some lights on in here, maybe grab something to drink. Would you like anything? I have water, a variety of non-alcoholic seltzer, and orange juice. Sorry, no booze. I don’t drink anymore.” You hoped she wouldn’t pry, at least not yet. You didn’t want to begin to think of how she would react to your grief-induced substance abuse. You were ashamed of it, often still berating yourself for falling down that path instead of seeking out professional help, even though you know you shouldn’t be hard on yourself. You hadn’t mentioned it in any of the letters, but you didn’t know how much Emily knew. You moved quickly from the couch, knowing she would be able to see the shame you carried. 

“Ice water is fine, thanks,” Emily answered, softly grinning at you. She knew that you were four months sober, and she couldn’t be more proud of you. She will never forget the pain that shot through her chest when Penelope told her about your addiction; the way she crumbled under the weight of responsibility. She felt responsible for it, even though she knew she wasn’t at fault. Her first few nights back in D.C., after she found out, she had nightmares about all of the events that had transpired, all of them ending with her finding you pale, cold, and lifeless surrounded by bottles of liquor and pills. She quickly pushed those images to the back of her mind as you reentered the living room, setting the glass of water, along with a small plate of meats and cheeses, in front of her and yourself beside her.

“I don’t have much of an appetite, and I don’t know if you ate,” you paused, “but we both need to get something in us before we get sick.” Emily nodded in agreement as she picked up a slice of prosciutto to nibble on. 

You felt anxiety rise within you once again. You closed your eyes and took a few deep breaths, trying to regulate your heartbeat and calm yourself down. You know you’re going to need it for what’s about to come. You turn to look at Emily to find her already staring at you. You can see the fear painted on her face, but her eyes still remained soft “I think I’m ready to know what happened, Em.” 

Emily spent the next thirty or so minutes explaining the entire situation to you, from when she woke up in Paris to the moment she landed on your doorstep. You’re not sure how, but you managed to keep it together for the most part. It was obvious from her body language and speech patterns that this whole thing has taken its toll on your lover, though you would be more concerned if she were acting nonchalant about it. You held her hand the whole time she spoke, tracing shapes and patterns into her soft skin, quietly helping ground her. Silence filled the space after she finished.

“You know,” she said, “I lunged at Hotch when he told me that he was the one who approved your transfer request.” Your jaw dropped and your eyes widened. “And I probably would’ve kicked his ass if Derek hadn’t grabbed me,” she chuckled.

“So are you going to lunge at me for transferring?” You asked, jokingly, raising a brow and smirking at her. The raven-haired woman threw her head back and laughed at your sentiment. 

“Later,” she quipped, “I figured it would be rude to do it first thing.” You nodded your head, as your smile began to falter. 

“You probably think I deserve it,” you said, feeling sadness and guilt wash over you as you’re reminded of the people you left behind. “Probably think I abandoned the team when they needed me the most.”

“Don’t you dare,” Emily interrupted, “You deserve no such thing. You didn’t deserve any of this.” Her voice cracked, and she paused to compose herself. Softly cupping your face with her hands, she whispered, “You did exactly what you felt was best for you, and I will never hold that against you. In fact, I’m proud of you, my love.” She noticed your eyes darting between hers rapidly, and as if she knows what you were thinking, she continues, “I know, sweetheart. And it’s okay. Four months is huge progress and you did that. For yourself.” You broke down in her hands, whimpering small apologies between light sobs. Without thinking about it, Emily pulled your body flush against hers, holding you tighter than she ever had before. After a few minutes, you felt your body begin to relax. The gentle thump thump thump of Emily’s heartbeat in your ear calmed your mind and helped you regulate your breathing. You couldn’t remember the last time you felt this calm. This safe. You were home. 

After you had calmed down, you lifted Emily up bridal style and whisked her down the hallway to your bedroom. Emily felt her heart swell as she noticed the numerous framed photos of you two hanging in your hallway. Even though Emily was unsure of what to expect of your reunion, she was relieved to have been met with nothing but open arms and unconditional love. Picking up where you left off.

~

Emily lay beside you, head on your chest and arms tight around your waist, while some season of Below Deck played quietly in the background. You and Emily chatted intermittently, catching up, giggling, and enjoying each other's company. Despite the euphoria of domestic bliss, Emily had something else on her mind. You could tell her mind had drifted elsewhere after an extended period of silence. 

“What’s up, buttercup?” You inquired. “You’re thinking about something, I can tell. Did you want to talk about it?” She responded with a sigh. 

“Hotch said there’s a spot in the BAU with your name on it,” she blurted out, without giving herself a chance to brush it off, “Only if you want it, of course.” She closed her eyes, preparing herself for rejection. For you to tell her you loved your life in Arizona, or that Virginia was just too painful.

“Oh thank god,” you blurted out with a chuckle, “I’ve had far too many encounters with scorpions, apparently more than the average person according to my exterminator, and I very much miss my East Coast problems. I’ll call him first thing in the morning.” You felt Emily laughing before you heard her. It was one of her deep, belly laughs that were often silent and made her shed happy tears, and you were one of the only people who made her laugh like that. You laughed along with her, snorting and smiling at your own ridiculousness. You both start to calm down, focusing again on the television endlessly playing in the background. For the first time in months, things feel as they should. Though you haven’t discussed it, you and Emily both know you’ll have things to work through, but you’re both willing to do the work. She’s more than worth it. “I love you, Em.”

“I love you too, Princess.”

~

#emily prentiss x reader #wlwfic #wlw fanfiction #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction

[statelysapphic]

Letters to Emily

Emily Prentiss x Reader

Summary: When Ian Doyle takes away the one person you love, you find solace in writing her letter.

Warnings: Typical talk of Emily being dead. Hurt. Let me know if I missed something<3

A/N: Hi friends! It’s been a while. I’ve been working on this for a while, and idk how I feel about it. I very lightly edited this. Feedback is appreciated as always. Ao3 Link. Enjoy!<3

July 26, 2011

Emily,

I accepted the job. I’m not sure what would piss you off more though: the fact that it’s a desk job or the fact that it’s in Phoenix and I’m leaving Quantico. Leaving the team. I know you’d tell me that I’m making a huge mistake but it’s just too painful.

JJ brings me coffee every morning, just like you did, and even though I know she means well, it’s a painful reminder that you will never bring me coffee again. When I look up from my desk in the bullpen to see the empty one across from me, I’m reminded that I won’t be able to watch you work anymore. I loved watching you pour over files, watching the gears turn in your head. Putting the pieces together and catching the bad guy. You were brilliant.

Emily paused as her vision blurred, the burning sensation of tears threatening to spill catches her attention and shifts her focus. She was angry. Angry at Doyle for forcing her into this mess. Angry at JJ for not telling her that you transferred. Angry at Hotch for even approving your transfer request. Angry at Derek, Spencer, and Penelope; Did they even try to convince you to stay? She took a deep breath, and then another. As she felt her heart rate return to normal, she wiped the tears away from her cheeks and continued reading.

Everything here is a painful reminder of you. Everything. I walk past a framed photo of you every single day and it guts me. Every single time. I can’t keep doing it, so I’m running. I know you’d be so disappointed in me. Virginia isn’t home without you, Em. It stopped feeling like home when JJ told me you “never made it off the table.” I don’t think I’ll ever find your feeling of home again.

I’m not sure how to tell the team about the transfer. Maybe I’ll buy them a round after this case and break the news to them then. Booze and karaoke should soften them up, right?

I don’t think they’re going to take it well. I just hope they skip the guilt trip.

I hate to end this on a sad note, so I will say that I think Arizona will be good for me. Lots of sunshine and wide open spaces. New people, new experiences. I actually think I’m excited, even though I feel guilty for it. I suppose that will get better with time. I don’t know if I’ve told you this, the one item on my bucket list is to go rockhounding out west. Maybe I’ll treat myself once I get settled.

I miss you so much, Em. But I love you even more. Always.

Emily refolded the letter and slid it back into its envelope. As she placed it on the coffee table in front of her, she finally allowed herself to cry. She had done everything in her power to protect you from Doyle and her past. Although you were physically safe, it was clear from your letters that the emotional toll was severe. She was only about halfway through the stack that she found in your bedside table, and she still had three months worth left to read. She knew she wouldn’t finish by the time you got home, but that was okay.

The raven haired woman sighed, picking up the next letter in the pile.

August 12, 2011

Emmy,

Fuck I miss you today. I wish you would’ve been here to ground me though that. Or kick some ass for me. The movers were nice enough to break my bed frame while bringing it up the stairs and then denied doing it. I watched him drop it, babe. I wasn’t even mad until he denied it. Don’t worry, I called the manager and received a full refund for the trouble.

I wish you were here to cuddle on this couch with me. I miss the way you’d hold me. I felt untouchable when I was in your arms. I think you’d like this new apartment though. The master bedroom has a killer view AND a balcony. It also has plenty of south facing windows for my houseplants, and room for many more. My collection has grown exponentially since you’ve seen it last. As odd as it sounds, they’ve helped me through this.

Sorry for the short letter today. Who knew moving halfway across the country would be so tiring? Could’ve fooled me. I love you, Emily. Always.

Emily chuckled lightly at your sarcasm, but soon felt the tears return.

Sadness began to fade within Emily, and anxiety soon took its place. She was unsure of how you would react when you came home after a long day at work to find your not-actually-dead partner sitting in your living room, reading your private letters, no less. Sure, they were technically addressed to her, but she knows you never thought anyone would read them. Maybe this wasn’t the best way to do this, but Emily vehemently rejected all help that the team offered. Hotch offered to call your Supervisor to have them sit you down to talk you through it. JJ nearly begged Emily to help in some capacity, already feeling immense guilt over the situation. Though, she almost let Rossi accompany her when he offered, and she was beginning to regret not doing so.

The regret faded almost instantly as Emily heard a key in the front door. Her heart rate increased and her chest became tight. The reality of the situation had settled in for Emily, and the uncertainty was paralyzing. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, a sorry attempt to calm her nerves, as she braced herself to face you. She heard the door shut, followed by footsteps that grew louder and louder until there was silence. Emily didn’t dare look up. Even as she heard the loud clatter of what she assumed were your keys colliding with the hardwood apartment floor.

“E… Emmy?”

~

#emily prentiss x reader #wlwfic #wlw fanfic #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction

[statelysapphic]

Here’s a little snippet of something I’m working on right now. I don’t have a timeline for completion, so bare with me, please and thanks💕

Feedback is always welcome and appreciated💕

Emily paused as her vision blurred, the burning sensation of tears threatening to spill catches her attention and shifts her focus. She was angry. Angry at Doyle for forcing her into this mess. Angry at JJ for not telling her that you transferred. Angry at Hotch for even approving your transfer. Angry at Derek, Spencer, and Penelope; Did they even try to convince you to stay? She took a deep breath, and then another. As she felt her heart rate return to normal, she wiped the tears away from her cheeks and continued reading.

#emily prentiss x reader #wlwfic #wlw fanfic

[statelysapphic]

#gwendoline christie #larissa weems #larissa weems x reader #alex blake #alex blake x reader #wlw fiction #wlwfic