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sequinsmile-x · 7 months ago

Text

Noble

/ˈnəʊbl/ adjective.

having or showing fine personal qualities or high moral principles.

Emily and Aaron, along with the rest of the BAU, help look for a missing little girl who has the same name as their daughter.

-x-

Hi friends,

This started as an idea I had yesterday and, as always, spiralled wildly out of control. It's less a bit less of a case fic than I initially intended, but it is angsty, full of feelings and hurt/comfort as well as a good dose of domestic Hotchniss.

I really hope you like this, and I would love to know what you think <3

-x-

Words: 5.5k (really really got away from me.)

Warnings: kidnapping, canon typical themes

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

She’s woken up by tiny hands pressing into her face, familiar warm and little fingers digging into her cheeks. Emily blearily opens her eyes, struggling at first as if they’d been glued together by a lack of sleep, and she’s met with her little girl's face, her dark eyes shining in the low light of the room.

“Alice, honey, are you okay?” she asks, reaching to the nightstand to turn on the lamp, internally winching when she sees it’s only 4 am. She rests her elbow on the mattress to get a better look at her little girl.

The movement causes her husband's arm to slip from its place over her waist, the weight of it now resting on her hip. She can feel from his breathing against the back of her neck that the small amount of light in the room hadn’t woken Aaron up. When they first started sleeping together, in the very literal sense, they’d both been light sleepers. Both so used to being alone and facing their monsters by themselves, their demons who had faces of very real men prone to coming out of any shadow. Any sound no matter how small enough to draw them from sleep and into a reality where danger was waiting for them.

After close to five years together, four of them married, they were both heavier sleepers now, aware of the safety they brought each other even in sleep. A kind of security their children often sought out, her and Aaron’s bed a frequent sanctuary for Jack or Alice, sometimes both, when they woke up in the middle of the night.

She feels her heart clench at the sight of her 3-year-old daughter. Ever since she was born everyone had always told her that Alice looked exactly like her, something that only seemed to be more true as time went on. If she looked at photos of herself when she was Alice’s age they looked identical, and she often wondered if she’d once been like her little girl, full of life and wonder and joy, before she was taught she needed to be ‘better behaved’.

Emily knows what’s happened before Alice responds, the signs of a nightmare all there. Her hair was unruly, dark curls that Emily couldn’t say where they’d come from escaping the braids Aaron had diligently done under the toddler's instructions at bedtime. She has visible tear tracks on her perfect cheeks, her eyes shining with more, and her lower lip trembling as if she was trying to stop herself from crying, as if she was trying to be brave.

“Bad dream,” Alice replies and Emily sighs sympathetically, reaching out and tucking some of Alice’s hair behind her ear, smiling sadly when the toddler leans into the affection.

“I’m sorry baby,” she says quietly, aware of her still-sleeping husband behind her, “Want to sleep in here with me and Daddy?” Alice nods as she rubs her eyes and Emily pulls back the covers so the little girl can climb under them. She tucks her against her chest, smiling softly as Alice curls into her, her head tucked under her chin as she snuggles in, her tiny fist clasped in Emily’s pyjama shirt. Emily turns the lamp back off and wraps her arms around her daughter, rubbing comforting circles on her back, “Want to tell Mommy about the bad dream?”

Alice shakes her head against her, “No,” she says, rubbing the material of Emily’s shirt between her thumb and forefinger to self-soothe, “Mama sing?”

Emily smiles before she nods, pressing a kiss against the top of Alice’s head as she continues to rub circles on her back, easing her back asleep. It was something she’d done for Jack before Alice had been born, something she’d done on a whim one day when she was home alone with him early on in her relationship with Aaron and the little boy had a nightmare. He’d climbed into bed with her and she’d started singing, hoping it would calm him down and it had. Ever since then, he’d asked for her to sing when he was sick or sad, and she’d happily comply. It seemed natural to do the same thing for Alice, and she’d done it before she was even born. More than once Aaron had walked into a room to find her with her hands pressed into her bump, as she sang quietly.

“Of course, sweet girl. What do you want me to sing?”

Alice yawns, already getting heavier against Emily’s chest, her mother’s embrace her favourite safe place, “The sunshine song.”

She rests her cheek on top of Alice’s head and starts to sing, making sure she stays as quiet as possible so she doesn’t wake up Aaron.

“You are my sunshine, my only sunshine

You make me happy when skies are gray

You'll never know, dear, how much I love you

Please don't take my sunshine away.”

She feels Alice’s grip on her shirt loosen, and her breathing even out against her neck, and she blows out a slow breath, pressing a kiss to the little girl's forehead before she rests her head properly on her pillow, ready to try and find sleep again herself. Just as she closes her eyes she feels Aaron’s arm move, his hand shifting from her hip to rest over hers on Alice’s back, enveloping them both in his embrace.

“Is she okay?” He asks sleepily, his voice thick with sleep in a way that never failed to make her stomach flip, a delicious part of him that was only for her and their children.

“She’s okay,” she replies, turning her head to look at him, the sleepy concerned look on his face enough to make her smile. She stamps a kiss to the corner of his mouth, “She had a bad dream. Sorry we woke you.”

He shakes his head, letting her know he doesn’t need her apology, that he’d never be mad about how much she loved their children. He kisses her lips and then her shoulder as she lays back down properly, and he hums, “There are worse ways to be woken up than to you singing our daughter to sleep.”

___

They get woken up early the next morning by Penelope, an urgency to her voice that sends shivers down both of their spines when she says they have an amber alert in New Mexico that they’ve been asked to help with.

Aaron calls Jess whilst Emily gets Alice and Jack ready for the day, and they exchange hurried goodbyes once Jess has arrived. Hugs with their children that feel too quick as they rush out of the door, well aware that another child’s fate rested well and truly on their shoulders.

When they get to the jet they finally have a chance to ask for the details of the case, of the little girl who’d been snatched from outside of her home the evening before whilst her mother took in the washing.

Emily’s breath catches in her chest when she sees the file, and Penelope hesitates before she says the name of the missing girl. It’s a momentary reaction she can’t control, something that makes the rest of the team look at her, and makes Aaron place his hand on her thigh under the table. She rests her hand over his and links their fingers together, squeezing tightly as she clears her throat.

“Sorry,” she says, smiling tightly as she makes eye contact with JJ before she returns her attention to the laptop, “Pen, carry on.”

Penelope hesitates for a moment before Aaron clears his throat, making it clear he doesn’t want anyone drawing any more attention to his wife’s reaction, and she nods, blowing out a slow breath before she continues.

“Our victim's name is Alice Holmes. She was last seen…”

The rest of the briefing fades out for Emily as she stares at the screen of her iPad, the face of a little girl who had her daughter's name staring back at her.

___

It feels like she’s on a knife edge, every one of her nerves fried as she stares at the board with the victimology scattered across it.

This Alice looked nothing like her little girl. She was a couple of years older, the baby-fat Alice still had nowhere to be seen. She was blonde and had blue eyes, her hair almost pin straight in all the photos her parents had provided. Emily felt like it should be enough to convince herself that this was fine, that this wasn’t her daughter but someone else's and that she needed to hold herself together.

It didn’t make it any easier anytime someone said ‘Alice’ as they were describing the kidnapping, or when they talked about the awful things she was likely enduring if she was still alive. Every time she closed her eyes her little girl’s face flashed across them and she felt like she wanted to scream.

She knew Aaron wasn’t faring any better. His shoulders tenser than normal, his fuse short as they hit a few dead ends and had to go to their hotel at the end of their first day on the case. He holds her close as they Facetime their children, some of the tension that had built throughout the day eased by the sight of Alice and Jack happy and healthy under the care of their aunt.

Neither of them sleep well that night, waking in fits and starts. Taking it in turns to comfort the other when their subconscious taunted them in their dreams, very real things they’d both seen twisting into the situation they found themselves in.

By the end of the second day, they worry they won’t find Alice until it’s too late, the chances of finding her alive diminishing with each passing hour.

It’s Spencer who figures it out, his eidetic memory coming into play when he says he recognises the van for a cleaning company that had been parked outside of the Holmes’s house from the footage of the day Alice disappeared in CCTV from another, up until then, unrelated kidnapping.

She leans in and she spots it too, the large letters on the side of the van clear even in the grainy footage.

Ray Dawson Cleaning Services.

Penelope finds his address in record time, her relief palpable when she tells them he only lives an hour away.

___

After the arrest is made, Dawson claims his innocence as Derek roughly takes him away, shoving him into the back of a cop car with what she knows is restraint, Aaron asks her to go into the house first.

She understands why, knows she’s done it before, but it doesn’t help the way she feels. The way her chest feels hollowed out as they find the perfectly decorated bedroom for a little girl, something that looks like it was pulled out of a magazine, in Dawson’s basement. They have to force the door open because it is triple locked from the outside, the keys nowhere to be found and Dawson's decision to say this had nothing to do with him absolute, so she knows that Alice has to be somewhere in the room.

The light switches on, the small windowless room floods with light, and Emily hears shuffling under the bed. She turns and nods at JJ before she tilts her head at the door, silently telling her to go tell the others they’d found her. Once she’s alone she kneels near the bed and peers under it, her breath catching in her chest at the sight of the little girl she’d only seen pictures of curled up against the wall, fear painted across her face that was far too much for a five-year-old to feel.

“Hi Alice,” Emily says as she lays down, her body flat against the floor as she turns her head so she’s facing under the bed. Alice whimpers, holding a toy tight against her chest as she shies away, “My name’s Emily. I’m with the police.”

“Is he coming back?” Alice asks, her voice shaking, tears spilling out onto her cheeks, and Emily wants nothing more than to pull the little girl into her arms, to hold her like she’d want someone to hold her little girl until she could get there, but she knows it has to be her choice.

“No, honey. He’s not coming back,” she assures her, “When you’re ready, I’ll help you outside and your Mommy and Daddy are going to meet us at the hospital,” she adds, watching as Alice shrinks back into herself curling tighter against the wall at the mention of getting out from her place of safety. Emily sighs and tries to think how she could help, the sound of footsteps outside the room let her know the others were all there, waiting on her to bring the little girl out. She thinks of her daughter, and an idea starts to form in her head, “I have a little girl, she’s called Alice too.”

Alice makes eye contact with her for the first time, furrowing her brow a little, “Really?”

“Really,” Emily confirms, smiling as the 5-year-old relaxes a little, “She’s three so a little younger than you. My Alice…” she starts, having to clear her throat when she hears the shake in it, knowing this wasn’t the time for her emotions, how she felt about the last couple of days, “My Alice, when she’s scared or hurt she likes me to sing to her. Would you like me to sing to you?”

Alice nods immediately, loosening her grip on her toy, “Yes please.”

Emily smiles and puts her hand between them, still leaving space so she doesn’t get too close to Alice, but giving her the option of holding her hand if she wants to.

“You are my sunshine, my only sunshine

You make me happy when skies are gray

You'll never know, dear, how much I love you

Please don't take my sunshine away.”

As she sings Alice scoots closer, at first placing her hand over Emily’s, squeezing her hand around hers before she gets even closer. By the time Emily finishes singing Alice is near enough Emily can feel her breath on her face.

“Emily?” Alice asks, her hand tight in her shirt, wrapped around the material sticking out from the top of her bulletproof vest.

“Yes, honey?”

“Will you stay with me?”

Emily nods, taking a deep breath, pushing the rising emotions back down into her stomach, feeling it turn over with them, nausea she knew would take to shift making itself known, “I’ll stay with you until we see your Mommy and Daddy, okay?”

Alice stares at her for a moment before she nods and Emily smiles at her before she stands up, not even leaving it a second before she bends down and picks Alice up, hoisting her onto her hip. She tries to ignore the desperation in the little girl's hold on her, how tightly she clings to her neck. She carries her out of the room, cupping the back of her head as she presses her face into her neck, clearly not wanting to see the place where she’d been held or the people who had come to rescue her. It’s only when they get outside, when the fresh air hits them, that Alice looks up just as they are approaching Aaron who had been outside directing everything, his face serious as he talks to the lead detective. When he spots Emily and the little girl they’d been looking for sitting on her hip he pardons himself from the conversation and walks over.

Alice shies away from him, wary of men after everything she’d been through, and she whimpers as Emily tries to soothe her.

“It’s okay,” she says, “You remember I told you about my little girl?”

She sniffs as she looks at Emily, seemingly never ending tears slipping down her cheeks, “Your Alice.”

“Yeah,” Emily says, exchanging a look with her husband, “My Alice. This is her Daddy,” she says softly, “He’s going to take us to the hospital so you can see your Mommy and Daddy, is that okay?”

Alice nods, her grip on Emily only loosening a little bit, “That’s okay.”

Emily smiles and steps past Aaron to open the car door, settling into the back seat with Alice on her lap. Before she closes the door Aaron stops it, his hand on it as he looks at her, his concern clear, his stern expression fading away no one but her and the little girl they’d rescued could see her.

“Are you okay?”

He felt guilty for sending her in here first, for asking her to do something he knew would be difficult. It hadn’t been lost on him how hard the last couple of days had been on her, how the little girl that had been missing having the same name as their daughter had made a case that would already have been tough, even tougher. But she was the best at this, child advocacy something she was skilled in and cared deeply about, and it was no secret children largely trusted women over men - especially in a situation like this.

As her boss, he knew that sending her in had been the right thing to do. As her husband, he wished he didn’t have to be the one to ask it of her.

She smiles tightly at him as she holds Alice closer, grateful that the journey to the hospital was short because they didn’t have a car seat, “Later.”

He nods, knowing it’s the best he’s going to get for now, and he reaches out and squeezes her shoulder, a silent show of the love he’d wait to give her, “Later.”

___

They head straight from the hospital to the jet where the rest of the team are waiting.

Emily keeps her promise, she sits with Alice, the little girl all but glued to her side, until her parents arrive. Aaron stands in the corner of the room, answering the doctor’s questions as well as he could, keeping vigil over the little girl, who had the same name as his, and well as his wife, her nerves clearly close to fraying.

It felt like a lifetime ago when he hadn’t been able to read her, when he would have thought she was unaffected by most of the things he saw. He knew her better now, and had done since before their relationship shifted from friendship into more. She was good at compartmentalising, that was true, but it was because she’d been taught since she was young that her emotions weren’t as important as what was going on around her. A side effect of the political world she’d been raised in, a past she’d never quite outrun.

He could see it now. Could see how she ran her fingers through Alice’s hair like she was their Alice, how she clenched her jaw for a moment before she blew out a long slow breath whenever the little girl against her side asked her a question, getting herself ready to sound unaffected by what was going on around her.

It was nothing short of a privilege that he was the one those barriers would crumble around, that he was the person she trusted more than anyone else. He loved being there for her, he loved her more than he had ever loved anyone else.

When Alice’s parents arrive, they are horrified she’d only been an hour away whilst she was missing, so close and yet so far out of reach. The little girl clambers out of Emily’s embrace and into her mother’s, her tears back with a vengeance as she sinks into her arms, her father’s arms around the both of them. Once Alice has calmed down a little, her parents hug both Emily and Aaron, their embraces a little tighter when the little girl tells them their daughter is called Alice too, a hint of innocence in her voice as the weight of her words settles over the adults in the room.

The ride to the jet is silent. Emily stares out of the window, focusing on the town passing them by, the place she hoped to never have to visit again.

As they board the jet she ignores how the rest of the team is looking at her, the empathy on their faces almost too much for her to bear. They had purposely left two seats for her and Aaron together, an unspoken rule that had existed since the team found out about their relationship, and she lets Aaron slip into the window seat, something he doesn’t argue with as she sits next to him, her eyes fixed on the table in front of them.

The moment they can take their seatbelts off Emily is out of her seat, her back to the team as she steps into the kitchenette, the curtain pulled behind her so she can have a moment of privacy. She blows out a shaky breath as she places her palms on the small counter in the back, leaning some of her weight on it as she tries to catch her breath, to force everything she desperately didn’t want to feel until she was at home, until after she’d hugged her kids, back down.

If she started crying now, she wasn’t sure she’d stop.

She hears the swish of the curtain and familiar footsteps behind her. She doesn’t have to turn around to know it’s him.

“Em.”

She presses her lips together and turns to look at her husband, her arms crossed over her chest as she leans back against the counter. She clears her throat, her eyes fixed on him, how he stands in just in the entryway to the kitchenette, his shoulders tense as he doesn’t know how to approach her. She clenches her teeth and blows a breath out through them.

“Can you make me some tea?” She asks, even though she’s closer to the hot water and the tea bags. He knows it’s an olive branch, her letting him look after her because she knows he needs to.

“Of course,” he says, stepping closer, purposely not touching her as he pours some hot water into a paper cup and grabs a chamomile tea bag. He looks at her, his gaze fixed on her side profile as she continues to stare ahead. She’d always been beautiful to him, even when he was married to someone else, and even now, simmering in her grief and where she’d let her mind wander the last few days, she was still gorgeous. The slope of her nose, the cut of her jaw, and her long lashes that were casting shadows onto her cheek. She was beautiful, and she was all his. “This feels like a stupid question,” he starts, his focus back on stirring her tea, “But I have to ask it, how are you?”

She scoffs, her arms tightening over her chest. She purposely keeps her voice low so it won’t be heard over the hum of the jet in the main part of the cabin, “Are you asking as my husband or as my boss?”

He turns to look at her, his eyebrows furrowed slightly, “Does my answer change yours?” He asks curiously, and she finally looks at him, her eyebrows raised, and he knows what she hasn’t said, “Your husband.”

She smiles sadly, her lower lip shaking in a way both of them ignore, “I had a hard day at work.”

“Sweetheart,” he says, moving to reach out for her but stopping, not wanting to push her, to be the thing that tipped her over the edge, “I’m sorry, I-”

“No, it’s…” she chokes on a noise somewhere between a sob and laugh and she shakes her head, “It’s not your fault. It was the right call, I’ve done it before it’s just…that was hard. And I really wish it wasn’t your job to make the call, even though it was the right one.”

He sighs, familiar guilt filling his lungs, making it momentarily hard to breathe as he looks at his wife, her jaw tight as she avoids eye contact with him, “I wish it wasn’t my job either.”

“I know,” she nods, her smile strained as she looks at him, “And I know this wasn’t easy on you either,” she adds, “I’ll be okay, honey. I just need to get home and hug the kids,” she says, her chin trembling, “Hold them until I stop imagining them in her place,” she chuckles humourlessly and shakes her head, “But we’re still five hours from home and they’ll be in bed by the time we get back.”

He watches as she reaches up to fiddle with the necklace he’d bought her last Christmas, two tiny disk pendants with the letters “J” and “A” stamped on them. He can’t hold himself back from touching her anymore and he places his hand on her hip, turning her to face him, a smile he hopes she finds comforting on his face.

“I know it’s not the same. But, until we get home you could always hug me,” he says, warmth spreading in his chest when a flash of a genuine smile breaks out over her face, “If you want to.”

She huffs out a laugh and closes the gap between them, wrapping her arms around his neck and sinking into him, something deep inside of her easing slightly when he holds her back just as fiercely, one of his hands firmly on her back whilst he uses the others to run his knuckles up and down her side. She presses her face into his neck and breathes him in, one of her hands shifting to cup the back of his head, her fingers digging into his hair.

“I always want to hug you,” she says softly, turning her head so her cheek is resting against his shoulder. She sighs contentedly, feeling something close to relaxed for the first time in days, and she smiles when she looks at the cup of tea on the side next to them, steam rising up from it and reaching her nose, the scent of her favourite tea to drink when she was stressed hitting her. She pulls back to look at him, her smile soft as she leans in to kiss him, her lips delicate against his, “Thank you for making my tea.”

He hears what she hasn’t said, what she won’t say until they are back at their house in the sanctuary they had built there together. No well-meaning friends just on the other side of a thin curtain desperately trying to hear them over the hum of the jet.

Thank you for loving me.

Thank you for being here.

Thank you for being you.

He leans in and kisses her, his hand on her cheek as he holds her close, “Anytime, sweetheart.”

___

When they get home, she’s up the stairs before he even closes the front door. She toes off her shoes and shrugs off her coat on her way, leaving him to pick them up so she can go and see their children. He does it gladly, not making any gentle teasing comments he usually would about cleaning up after her.

He didn’t mind, he loved picking up the pieces of her that she’d allow to fall apart around him.

She barely says hello to Jess as they pass on the stairs, and Jess looks up the stairs at her curiously before she walks towards Aaron as the door to Jack’s room briefly opens and then closes.

“Is she okay?” Jess asks, her brows furrowed as she hugs him. He sighs as he hugs her back and he steps away, looking for her jacket for her.

“It was a case about a missing little girl,” he says, looking upstairs as Jack’s door opens again, only to be quickly followed by Alice’s, “Emily was the one who found her. Alive thank god.”

Jess winces sympathetically, and takes her jacket from him, “That’s rough.”

He hums, “Even rougher when you know the little girl is called Alice.”

She places her hand over her chest after she shrugs her jacket on, “Poor Emily,” she says, looking up the stairs before she looks back at him, “Poor you. Are you okay?”

He sighs and scratches the back of his head as he thinks about it, “I’ll be okay once I see her. And once I stop feeling guilty about sending Emily into the room she was being kept in first.”

Jess pulls him into another hug, “She understands your job, Aaron,” she assures him, patting his back before she steps away and heads towards the door, “It’s what makes you guys work. You’ll hold this against yourself a lot longer than she will.”

He hums and puts his hands on his hips, his eyebrow raised at her, “What made you such an expert on human behaviour?”

She chuckles and winks at him as she opens the door, “I’ve known you most of my life, some of it was bound to stick eventually,” she says as she steps onto the porch, “Get some sleep. Hug your wife. Everything will feel better tomorrow.”

He nods, “Thanks, Jess.”

She smiles at him one more time, “Any time.”

He sighs as she closes the door and he locks it behind her, double-checking the locks out of habit before he steps further into his quiet house. He puts their go-bags in the laundry room and then decides to head upstairs, desperate to see his family. He pops into Jack’s room and sees he’s fast asleep, his covers tucked up around him in a way that lets him know Emily had adjusted them when she came in to see him, the boy well known for wriggling out of them as he slept. He drops a kiss on his forehead, whispers his love against his skin, and then slips back out of the room, not wanting to wake him.

When he walks into Alice’s room his breath catches in his chest at the sight he’s met with, his two girls fast asleep and wrapped around each other. Emily was pressed up against the wall on top of the covers having climbed in with Alice when she came in to see her, still wearing her clothes from work, curled up so she could fit in the small bed. Alice is pressed against her, her hand loosely tangled in her mother’s shirt, and Aaron can just picture her waking up just enough to realise Emily was there with her before she fell back asleep, comforted by the fact her mother was home.

Aaron briefly considers waking Emily up, knowing that her back wouldn’t thank her for sleeping in this position in the morning, but he knows she needs this, that their daughter was the comfort she’d been seeking since they’d last seen her. She was an excellent mother, better than she ever gave herself credit for, and he never felt anything less than blessed when he thought about the fact she’d chosen him as the father to her children.

He briefly walks out into the hallway and pulls a blanket out of the linen closet before he steps back into the bedroom. He lays the blanket over his wife, making sure to tuck it around her so she doesn’t get cold. He kisses the top of Alice’s head, taking a moment to breathe in the scent of her no tear shampoo, and he whispers against her hair.

“Love you, Princess,” he says, kissing her head again before he turns his attention to his wife, tension in his chest easing when he sees how relaxed she is. He kisses her cheek, “Love you, sweetheart.”

She grumbles, waking up ever so slightly, “Aaron?”

“Go back to sleep, baby,” he says, kissing her cheek again, running his fingers through her hair to soothe her, not entirely convinced she was actually awake, her eyes still closed, “You and Alice get some sleep, okay? I’ll see you in the morning.”

She hums, tightening her hold on their daughter, and he kisses her cheek again as she mumbles just loud enough for him to hear, “Love you.”

“Love you too, Em.”

He sleeps fitfully in the big bed all alone, not used to all of the space to himself, for a couple of hours until she comes in, her eyes bleary with a sleeping Alice in her arms as she passes the little girl over to him so she can actually get ready for bed. She smiles gratefully at him as he settles their daughter against his chest and she leans in to kiss him, her lips pressed against his as she silently thanks him again for knowing her, for always knowing what she needed even when she didn’t.

When she climbs into bed with him, Alice sandwiched between them, they fall asleep quickly. Safe and content in their own home with their daughter with them and their son asleep just down the hall.

-x-

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blackbird-brewster · 2 years ago

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Friday Fic Recs

Time for another weekly fic round-up! I've been kinda spacey this week (just feeling Extremely Autistic) but I have read a few things. Didn't write much though.

What I've Read

Criminal Minds, JJ/Emily, WC: 8652 Rated: E || Author: ninthwave (@gothprentiss)

Why I Loved It: I know absolutely nothing about boxing, but lemme tell you what.... a Jemily boxing AU!?!?!?! I uhhhhhhhhhhh, I'm very very gay. This is so well written. Ninthwave's narrative voice is so unique and the flow of this was incredible. Never knew I needed the mental image of Emily and JJ boxing each other, and now I'm extremely glad to let it live rent free in my mind.

Criminal Minds, JJ/Emily, WC: 39,514 Rated: M || Author: phoenix_falls (@otahkoapisiakii)

Why I Love It: I've had this on fic recs before, because I started my re-read in January, got halfway through and in usual ADHD fashion, forgot about it completely until this week. I just finish the second half and GOD. Every time I read this fic I am full of so much hnnnnnnnggggggggggggg. Tooth rotting fluff, angst, hurt/comfort, this fic's got everything! It follows the years of JJ/Emily's relationship from when they first start dating through to their wedding. Each chapter is a prompt of ways to say 'I love you' (without saying I love you). Honestly, just read it. It's worth your time.

What I'm Writing:

Criminal Minds, JJ/Emily, WC: 93,318+ (WIP) Rated: E Update: I posted Chapter 14 earlier this week, which means I only have ONE more chapter on this fic!! What a journey. This fic was born out of a four minute song, it was supposed to be a short little angsty Jemily fic and now I'm my longest fic to date and will most likely be over 100k with the final chapter. I never imagined this fic would speak to so many people, the love and support on this one have bowled me over. I'm so happy to get to pour my own experiences with grief, depression/PTSD, and healing into a fic. It's been extremely humbling to read everyone's comments. Thank you all for coming on this journey with me.

Criminal Minds, JJ/Emily, WC: 28,113+ (WIP) Rated: T

Update: WELP!!! After eight years, I have updated this fic! This was my main WIP in 2015 when I completely walked away from writing, which meant this fic was left on a cliff-hanger when abandoned. Last year I decided I was going to edit/tweak the chapters already posted and finally finish it. Yesterday, I posted the first update on TCAU since 2015!!! It feels wild to come back to this fic, my writing has changed SO much, but I'm trying to match my old style so the fic flows a bit better. Thank you to everyone who's stayed subscribed to this for yearrrrrrrrrsssssssss. Thank you for your patience and your gentle reminders that you were interested in an update. I hope I can do it justice.

Criminal Minds, JJ/Tara/Rebecca, WC: 10,135+(WIP) Rated: E

Update: I want to work on Chapter 3 soon! (Hopefully I'll get to start it today) I'm excited to see where this one goes from here. I really love these three and I'm so interested to explore them in a polyam situation.

More Fic Recs Under the Cut

Other Recommendations:

Past Friday Fic Recs: [Friday Fic Recs - Tumblr] || [CM Fic Recs - AO3 Collection]

Rec Lists: [JJ/Emily] || [Tara/Emily] || [CM Femslash]

My Fics: [Jemily] || [Temily] || [All]

#criminal minds #jennifer jareau #emily prenitss #jemily #cm fanfiction #cm fic rec #friday fic rec #my writing #otp: pain cupcakes #ao3

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andreafmn · 4 years ago

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Collision - Chapter 1

Word Count: 3,434

Characters: Female Reader Uley Character, Sam Uley, Allison Uley, Charlie Swan, Bella Swan, Seth Clearwater, Billy Black, Jacob Black, Emily Young, Paul Lahote, Harry and Sue Clearwater, Leah Clearwater

Story Description: (Y/N) Uley is back home after being away for four years. Her life at it’s first standstill and she is taking this time to find out who she is without school. But she never thought that coming back to the reservation would turn her whole life around. In the midst of secrets and mystery, a man crashes into (Y/N)’s and her life will never be the same.

*DISCLAIMER* I do not own in any way Twilight, all credits of the pre-established characters, script, and storyline belong to Stephanie Meyer and Summit Entertainment. The only thing I own is Uley Reader insert, any upcoming characters, and her storyline, as well as her effects in the others’ story line.

Chapter: 1/?

A/N: There’s no Cullen’s in the first chapter, we’ll see them soon though. Also, Esme is in the story but her and Carlisle are not together romantically. If you enjoy my writing I’ll also be posting them in AO3 and Wattpad along with other stories (I also hope to start taking requests if ya’ll want) Hope you enjoy and all constructive criticism is encouraged.

Next->

Chapter 1

Going back home felt bizarre for (Y/N). It had been 4 years since she had moved away from the La Push Reservation on a scholarship to a prep boarding school in Seattle. Although students were expected to go back home during summer break, she spent her time in summer taking college classes or attending internships in the area, so going back didn’t fit into her plans.

But she had just graduated from high school and decided that taking a gap year could not hurt. Seeing her family wouldn’t be that bad either.

(Y/N) Uley had not reunited physically with Sam and Allison Uley since she left for school, only calling occasionally but always being to busy for anything else. The mother and son duo had grown accustomed to the short phone calls and vague emails they would receive from their studious family member. The Uley siblings used to be a very close pair, being only a year apart helped their bond. But since (Y/N) had invested all her energy into her high school career, their relationship rapidly dissipated; replaced by untold secrets and life-changing details.

The Uley girl had no idea what was in store when she went back home. She had left when she was 14 and was coming back an 18-year-old with a high school diploma and a bachelor’s degree. (Y/N) had always been an over achiever and applying to the school she had and taking dual enrollment was no surprise to her mother and brother.

The bus ride from Seattle to La Push lasted almost eight hours, so (Y/N) equipped herself with two books, plenty of snacks, and a fully charged iPod to handle the ride. She had gotten the earliest ride available always enjoying the intriguing mystery that 3 am travels brought. Her brown eyes surveyed the curious characters that voyaged alongside her a young woman sat with a sleeping baby in her arms, the dark circles under her eyes signaled the baby was still a newborn getting adapted to a sleep schedule; there was a middle-aged man, his eyes attached to a computer and a briefcase tight to his side; there were two teenagers, backpacks at their feet and shared headphones in between them. They were wearing light blue polo shirt and her school insignia embroidered on the left side of their shirt. She had seen them in passing, two freshmen still energetic and excited for their school life. She looked at them and smiled, remembering being in their shoes four years ago.

Four hours in, (Y/N) had finished one book, and the bus made its first stop in Port Angeles, the place where everyone that traveled with her got off. It wasn’t surprising to see from the top of her book as everyone got off, she didn’t recognize any of them from the reservation so it would have been surprising if any of them had stayed in the bus. For the next four hours, (Y/N) continued to read her second book surrounded by a comforting silence. The sun had risen about an hour ago and a nice warmth was streaming from the bus window and (Y/N) felt herself drift in bliss.

Her eyes fluttered open once again when she felt the bus finally rolling to a stop. She blinked a few times as she adjusted her vision to the bright midday sun and her brain restarted normal functions. The brunette gathered the bag with her travel companions and got up from the chair she had been glued to for eight hours.

“Have a good day,” the driver chimed as (Y/N) was walking down the bus.

“You too, drive safe!” The girl smiled and got her two suitcases out of the side of the bus.

(Y/N) got startled as she felt two arms wrap around her midriff and quickly swung her elbow back.

“Woah, woah, careful with those arms, (Y/N). It’s just me,” the girl turned around, a gleaming grin adorning her face.

“Sam!” She jumped onto the open arms of her older brother, seeing the years that had passed on his tired face.

“Look at you, darling. All grown up,” Allison Uley smiled, tears threatening to spill from her eyes.

“Mom, I’ve missed you.” (Y/N) hugged her mother tightly, noticing the difference in heights of her and her mother. Another thing she noticed was the strain between her mother and her brother. Before she left, they all had a very close relationship but now it felt like so many things had interlaced into their bond. “Let’s go home yeah?”

“I’m, actually I gotta go to my house,” Sam scratched the back of his neck.

“What house?” (Y/N) chuckled.

“I moved out, but I’ll come over for your welcome dinner.”

“Sam, she just came back. Don’t you wanna spend time with your sister?” Allison begged, wanting to have both of her children under the same roof again.

“I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“I just can’t, mom. Leave it.” Sam sighed. “I’ll see you at dinner, (Y/N).”

He kissed the top of his sister’s head and left. He wanted to tell them the whole truth, but he knew he couldn’t. Knowing that information would put them in a level of danger that he didn’t want them to be aware of.

(Y/N) stared at the retreating figure of his brother as he ran down the street, leaving her and their mother.

“What’s up with him?”

“Oh darling, if only I knew.” Allison sighed grabbing one of the suitcases her daughter had brought. “Let’s just head to the house so you can rest.”

“Yeah, let’s.” (Y/N) gave Allison a comforting smile and wheeled the second suitcase towards the truck.

The drive home was as short as she remembered, and the house hadn’t changed a bit. She walked up the steps to the porch and opened the old wooden door; it still made the same creaking sound. The house still smelled of seawater and pine, an odd mix but a comforting scent. (Y/N) regretted all the summers she missed here and all the days she spent away from her family.

She made her way up the stairs and entered the first door to the right. She ran her fingers through the stickers she had pasted on there when she was 13: a wolf, a rainbow, a heart, and a picture of her family. Her name still carved at the highest point of the door and she smiled at the memory of that. She sat atop Sam’s shoulder when she was just 12 years old, a trembling hand holding a pick as she carved as best as she could the name “(Y/N)”.

The doorknob as it was turned let out a squeaky groan and the door needed an extra push to open. The room had not changed at all. The walls were still painted a light green, the light switch still had the pink princess cover, the bedding had the little purple butterflies embroidered on them, and the pillows were all pink and purple. In a corner rested the five boxes (Y/N) had sent to the house from her dorm room.

“It hasn’t changed a bit,” (Y/N) commented as she felt her mother’s presence behind her.

“I didn’t want to change it until you came back,” Allison smiled. “But I’m sure you’d like to give this place a bit of a makeover.”

“Definitely,” she laughed. “I think I’ll go to Port Angeles this weekend, doing some shopping can’t hurt.”

“That’s true.” Allison side hugged her daughter as she laughed. She headed towards the door but stopped when she was called upon by her daughter.

“Hey, mom?”

“Yes, darling?”

“By any chance, do you know where Sam’s living?” Allison’s body stiffened but shared the information with her daughter. Maybe she could figure out why he’d just disappeared.

(Y/N) was surprised to hear he was living with a girl she barely knew. She knew of Emily Young through Leah Clearwater, but not much after that. Last thing she had heard Leah and Sam had been dating. She certainly had missed some very important pivotal points in her brother’s life.

The house wasn’t far, so she decided to walk there. Upon arrival she could feel the warm and inviting aura that the quaint house emanated. The blue door called to her as she knocked on it. It finally opened and revealed her brother.

“(Y/N), what’re you doing here?”

“I’m here to see my big brother. Is that such a crime?” She laughed.

“No, of course. Come in,” he smiled begrudgingly. “I don’t have much time so we gotta make this quick.”

“Wow, feeling the love there,” she chuckled passing through the doorframe.

“There’s just some things that I have to do before dinner tonight.”

“It’s okay, I get it. I just wanted to ask if you could help me on the weekend with my room. I’m bringing it four years into the present, gotta make sure it looks like an 18-year-old sleeps there.”

“Yeah, I’ll come over Sunday afternoon and help you then. Anything else you need?”

“Well, not exactly, but it wouldn’t help to catch up. You know make up for four years of chit chat conversations and get me up to date with at the happenings in your life.”

“There’s not much to say other than I moved out and I’m engaged.” He said nonchalantly.

“Excuse me?! You’re engaged and failed to mention that to me?”

“It’s not that big of a deal, (Y/N).”

“Yes, it is, Sam! You’re getting married and this is the first I’m ever hearing of this or the fact that you moved out or the fact that you’re engaged to your ex-girlfriend’s cousin. I think it is a big deal.”

“Okay, yeah. Kind of a long story on that one.”

“Enough time to tell it to me?” Sam hesitated. He could hear Emily’s truck approaching and two male voices coming back from patrol. He needed to get (Y/N) out of the house before they got here.

“Maybe another time. I’ll call you on Sunday, yeah?” Sam asked as he nudged his sister out of his house.

“I guess.” (Y/N) mumbled as she was pushed out the front door. “Bye.”

“See ya.” Sam kissed the side of her head and closed the door.

(Y/N) left the house with more questions about her brother that she had begun with but didn’t want to press on. There was no use if he wasn’t going to talk, so she walked back home.

Her mother had gone out, possibly grocery shopping for tonight’s dinner, giving (Y/N) time to catch up on some much-needed sleep. She walked up the stairs and into her room, plopping down on the bed not caring how she landed. All she wanted was to close her eyes and rest.

By six in the afternoon her eyes fluttered open once again. She could smell the dinner her mother had been cooking. The room had darkened as the sun was going down and thankfully her mother had turned on a lamp for (Y/N) to have some vision. The girl got up from bed and grabbed some clothes from her suitcase to take a quick shower before dinner. She stripped all her clothes off and let the water wash away all the hours of the day. As soon as the water started turning cold, she shut it off and got out.

For a second, (Y/N) stopped and stared at herself in the mirror above the sink. She barely recognized the girl staring back. The bags under her eyes were deeper than the last time she had seen herself in this specific mirror, her cheekbones were more defined than before, her skin paler than usual since she hadn’t really seen the sun in a while.

It didn’t take her long to change into some new clothes and head downstairs, where she saw her mother on the phone. Disappointment evident in her eyes.

“Sam, it’s your sister… please… ok, fine. Just don’t flake on her on Sunday,” Allison sighed, turning off her phone and slamming it on the counter.

“Everything okay, mom?”

“Oh, yeah, darling. Your brother won’t be able to join us, but Billy and Jacob, and the Clearwaters are on their way, and I also invited Charlie and Bella Swan. I hope you don’t mind that they join in.”

“No, I don’t mind. What about Paul?”

“You know I’ve never liked that boy, honey.” (Y/N) stared at her mother. Refusing to continue the conversation until Allison answered the question. “I did invite him, but he couldn’t come.”

“I love seeing you make an effort,” (Y/N) laughed and kissed her mother on the cheek. “I’ll set the table.”

“Thank you, darling.”

(Y/N) grabbed the 10 plates needed for the night and the respective cutlery. She still remembered how her mother liked the table arranged and set it as such. She set the vase filled with fresh flowers in the middle of the table, leaving space on the sides for the dinner platters. The arrival of the guests was soon after. (Y/N) had grown alongside Jacob and Leah, and on the summers, she would spend her times with the Swan girl. Once Seth was born, he became very close with the Uley girl.

“My oh my, (Y/N), how you’ve grown.” Billy Black grabbed Uley’s hand and smiled up at her, with the warmness that summer brought.

“Indeed, I have, and you haven’t aged a day in four years. What’s your secret?”

“It’s in the genes,” he laughed alongside the young girl. She’d always been a charmer, he thought “You remember my boy, Jacob, right?”

“How could I ever forget? Hey, Jake!”

“How you’ve been, (Y/N)?” Jacob approached his friend and wrapped her in a hug. “Been an awful long time.”

“Four years, that’s not much,” she smiled. “Come in.”

The father and son duo entered the house, and next came the Clearwaters. Harry, Sue, and Seth. No Leah. They had always been close to the Uleys, a bit of divide coming after the rupture between the eldest offspring of each family.

“Oh, wow, where has the time gone?” Sue commented, greeting the girl with a tight hug.

“4 years really do go by quick, don’t they?”

“They sure do, Harry.” (Y/N) smiled, motioning the couple in.

Finally, Seth walked in and engulfed (Y/N) in a tight hug. The girl was 5 years his elder, but he considered her one of his best friends. Seth and Paul were the only two people (Y/N) kept in close contact other than her family. For some time, Paul and (Y/N) had drifted apart but Seth always sent his monthly excited letters, updating her on what he had been up to.

“I missed you, (Y/N)!” Little Seth spoke into a bundle of brunette hair.

“I missed you too, Seth.” She smiled as he walked past her, joining his parents.

The last to enter were Sheriff Swan and Bella. The cop smiled at the girl and gave her a quick hug, commenting on how much she had grown, a low chuckle leaving his throat. Bella entered with hunched shoulders, possibly not wanting to be there but she still smiled at her old friend. Vague memories filled the girls’ heads of summer play dates and days at the beach.

“It’s been quite some time, huh?” Bella muttered.

“It sure has. It’s great to see you again,” (Y/N) smiled. “How have you liked Forks now that you’re back full time. Still hating cold weather?”

“Yeah,” the pale girl chuckled. “But it has its better days.”

The girls joined in a quick giggled before joining the rest of the group at the dinner table. Allison had already set the table and had said her hellos to the group.

The three males had engaged in sports conversations and the teens were all huddled in the kitchen munching on cheese and crackers and engaging in small chit chat.

“So, (Y/N), 18 and already a degree, how does that feel?” Jacob asked, stuffing his mouth with cheese and ham.

“Well, as good as it can be. Don’t know exactly what I’m gonna do now. All I know is that I’m taking a year off and taking a breather for the first time.” (Y/N) chuckled.

“I just can’t believe you’d spend all this time going to school, twice as much. I don’t like school at all,” Seth chimed in, picking apart the cheese and filling his mouth.

“So, you spent these past four years studying, including your summers?” Bella added.

“That’s correct,” (Y/N) smiled. “And now I have a degree and nothing to do with it.”

The group chuckled and moved towards the adults as they were being called to dinner. In the center of the table was a big platter of spaghetti and meatballs, (Y/N)’s favorite food, a tray of toasted garlic bread, and a bowl of a colorful mix of spring salad.

(Y/N) always enjoyed her mother’s cooking. Even on her saddest days, Allison’s cooking could warm her heart at any time. She and her mother had a very close relationship, even after four years of distance. Since her father left early in her life, her mother had always tried her hardest to make sure both her children were loved and cared for. And she stayed wondering where she had gone wrong with Sam and hoping (Y/N) didn’t stray away as her eldest had.

The dinner group had all taken their seats at the dinner table and were passing around the various platters, serving themselves their desired portions. Jacob and Seth were overfilling their plates, receiving a laugh from their respective parents. Charlie, Harry, and Billy were filling their plates with more protein than carbohydrates and the moms at the table smiled at the males engulfing the meatballs. (Y/N) looked around the table and smiled. It had been a long time since she had sat down with the important people in her life and was relaxed, even if two of them were missing.

After everyone was served, everything went almost quiet. Some background music could be heard from the living room and the sound of forks hitting plates and mouths chewing filled the environment. Everyone was comfortable with the silence, but there was still one question in everyone’s mind.

“Where’s Sam?” Seth spoke up, voicing everyone’s question. The whole table paused in action and Seth felt like a deer caught in the headlights. Sue softly elbowed her son. “What?”

“It’s okay, Sue,” (Y/N) smiled. “He couldn’t be here, bud.”

“Maybe he was feeling bad, like Leah.” He added earning a burning stare from both his parents.

“Maybe, Seth.”

“I just wanna apologize for our daughter missing this dinner. I know she really wanted to see you, (Y/N).”

“Oh, Harry, it’s really no problem. I’m sure I’ll catch up with her soon enough.” (Y/N) smiled trying to ease the tension felt in the room. She could see her mother gripping her fork tightly as she kept her head down. “But I would also like to apologize on behalf of Sam, I know he wanted to be here.”

Everyone simply nodded and went back to their plates. The rest of the evening was enjoyable. No one mentioned the pair that was missing, and (Y/N)’s past four years were questioned in depth. She had an answer for everything except “What are you gonna do now?”

She didn’t know and that’s what she answered. She mentioned she wanted to study medicine, having finished a degree in biology and always loved taking care of other people. Sue was excited, being a nurse herself. But (Y/N) had landed at a standstill in terms of her life and career. A vast portion of her life had been defined as a student and now that this part was over, she didn’t know who she was.

The dinner festivities were over soon thereafter, leaving Allison and (Y/N) to clean up after the group. The Uley pair put everything away in silence, exhausted from the eventful day. (Y/N) could see as her mother wiped away a few stray tears, sniffling behind her hair. The girl knew better than to bring the topic back up and left her mother with a kiss on the temple and a good night.

Upstairs, (Y/N) prepared herself for bed. The event had drained nay energy still left in her and she plopped down on the bed with a small thud. She had prepared her clothes for the next day, knowing her energy would also be drained but still excited to have this change. Her eyes fluttered close as she heard in the distance her mother’s quiet footsteps on the staircase, darkness overtaking her.

Next->

A/N: if you wish to be tagged for the next parts, please let me know. I’d be happy to. <3

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spencers-renaissance · 3 years ago

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I'll (Never) Know What It's Like Not to Love You

Summary: Spencer finds his old journals in the attic, and he and Derek reminisce on the days they used to pine for one another. Luckily, those days are over, and they have forever ahead of them.

Tags: tooth-rotting domestic fluff, past mutual pining, past hurt!spencer, cuddling & snuggling, late canon

Pairing: Derek Morgan x Spencer Reid

Word Count: 1.3k

Masterlist // Read on AO3

Happy Bonus Fic Thursday!!! This was written on a whim after listening to "When I'm Older" by Ashe on repeat one morning. I think it's cute though and I do love to give these two a happy ending <3

Spencer has just turned thirty-nine when he finds the journal. It’s only November, but he’d ventured into the attic to dig out the Christmas decorations while Derek was out running errands — he can’t complain about it if he’s not here — and he’d stumbled across boxes full of stuff from Spencer’s old apartment that he took with him when he moved into the house Derek renovated for them.

He finds trinkets and books he’d almost forgotten about, old letters that he never sent, the small remnants he has left of his childhood, and he spends almost an hour sifting through the boxes as he sits on the floor of the loft, barely registering the frigid air around him.

Eventually, he stumbles on the box full of his old journals, and his heart stops at the sight of them. They’re a random assortment of hardback and paperback, colourful and plain, too many different fabrics to count, and they document every day of his life from his first day at university up until around 2009. After he got together with Derek, his life had grown too full and busy to chronicle each and every day, and he switched to only journaling through the really significant moments of his life.

He lifts them out of the box, fingering the spines tenderly as he holds them with the reverence he feels they deserve, until he comes across a fat, purple, leather journal. Jan-June 2004, it says on the spine in Spencer’s neatest print. His stomach tumbles as he remembers what’s written on these pages, and — his world suddenly zeroing into the book in his hands — he opens it.

23rd April 2004

We didn’t have a case today. Derek brought me coffee and ate breakfast with me in the break room and, even though I was smiling the whole time, it hurt so badly. I don’t think I’ll ever not be in love with him. Certainly not when he’s this close to me; not when he looks at me like he did when I knocked the stapler off the desk today; not when he places his hand on my hip and calls me ‘pretty boy’.

I don’t know what the future holds, but I think that the most I can hope for is that in thirty years I don’t still feel like this. Maybe when I’m older, I’ll finally know what it’s like not to love him.

Spencer’s heart clenches as all the emotions he’d felt when writing that entry rush back. Almost all the pages from 2003-2006 are filled with his lamentations about his feelings for Derek. He’d documented other things too at times, if a case was particularly interesting he’d write down his thoughts and observations, and he’d written about the trip he’d taken in 2005 to go and see Diana after the Fisher King case.

Largely, though, he wrote about the way Derek’s eyes looked in the sunshine, the difference in his first and last smile of the day, the gentleness in every strong and powerful muscle of his body. He wrote about the way his heart broke each day at the sight of him, how he would cry at night when the knowledge he’d never know how it felt to be wrapped up in his arms hurt too badly. He wrote about the men he slept with in a vain attempt to forget him.

As soon as the rush of emotions subsides a little, a smile crosses his lips. Tears shine in his eyes as he thinks about how wrong this Spencer was.

He is older now. He wrote these journal entries in his twenties, and now he’s fast approaching being double the age he was then, and still, he has no idea what it’s like not to love Derek Morgan. The only difference is that the hurt it used to bring has been replaced with a kind of joy Spencer never could have expected he would experience.

It’s not something painful he wishes he could forget anymore; it’s the very root of everything so wonderful about his life, and where 2004 Spencer Reid wished he could cut himself open and gut out all the love he held for Derek Morgan, modern day Spencer Reid only wants it to replicate, duplicate, overtake his body until it’s more himself than he could ever be.

⭐️

“I found something interesting earlier,” he tells Derek later.

Their empty pasta bowls are discarded on the coffee table as they sit cuddled up on the sofa and the TV is muted, playing Spencer’s favourite sitcoms across the screen, the sound of the November rain coming down outside filling the room. The Christmas decorations are still in the attic, but the journals are tucked under their bed upstairs.

“What’s that, baby?” He turns his head slightly to see Spencer’s face resting against his shoulder, tightening his grip on his waist, pulling him closer into his warmth.

Spencer looks up to meet Derek’s eyes, and he can’t help but immediately smile. They’re still the same shade of delectable honey brown, still the same ones that melt him every time he meets his gaze, but they’re a little more lined these days. Spencer always tells Derek that age looks good on him, and he means it. He looks older, wiser, safer, and Spencer still wants to melt into his embrace every moment of the day.

“I found the journals I wrote in when I first joined the BAU.”

Derek chuckles lowly, bringing a hand to Spencer’s curls. “Those must have been a good read.”

“They were.”

“What cases did you write about?”

“Not many,” Spencer admits, sliding down the sofa until he can rest against Derek’s chest more comfortably. “I mostly wrote about you.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. When I was young and in love and it hurt so badly because I thought I would never have you, the only thing that I held onto was that maybe when I was older, I wouldn’t still be in love with you. And it’s sort of funny, because I’m older now, and if anything, I’m only more in love with you.”

“Oh, baby,” Derek sighs. “We really were a mess back then, huh?”

Spencer laughs. “That’s one way to put it.”

“Penelope was my journal when you first joined,” Derek recalls, tracing his fingertips over the exposed skin on Spencer’s waist where his t-shirt’s ridden up. “I would go into her office at least three times a day when we were home complaining about how much I liked you. And she’d get even more calls if we were on a case.”

“Wait, is that where you used to go when we shared a room? You always used to wander out of the room at random hours making phone calls. I thought it was weird.”

Derek laughs at that, and Spencer likes the way it makes his chest rumble underneath him. “That’s exactly what was going on, genius.”

“When she and Emily come this weekend I’m gonna get her to tell those stories,” Spencer teases.

“Let her,” Derek laughs, “I’m not embarrassed. The whole world can know I was and still am madly in love with my pretty boy, I don’t care.”

Spencer’s heart warms at that, and he marvels at Derek’s ability to still make him soft and mushy after all these years. He sits up properly, shifting up the sofa until he’s straddling Derek’s hips, cradling his face. “I love you so much,” he whispers, leaning in to press his lips against Derek’s.

“I love you more.”

“I’m pretty sure that reading even a single entry of one of those journals could convince you otherwise.”

“Oh, I will absolutely be reading those journals, baby, do not get it twisted.”

Spencer smiles, sliding off his hips to curl up next to him again, resting his head on his shoulder. “You’ve made me so happy, Derek,” he murmurs, connecting his right hand with Derek’s left.

“And nothing makes me happier than hearing that,” Derek murmurs back, caressing Spencer’s thumb with his own. “I’m gonna continue making you happy for the rest of our lives, you know that?”

Spencer sighs, content and warm and loved. “Yeah. I do.”

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#criminal minds #cm #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fanfic #cm fic #cm fanfiction #cm fanfic #moreid #derek morgan #spencer reid #moreid fic #moreid fluff #derek morgan x spencer reid #derek morgan/spencer reid #spencer reid x derek morgan #spencer reid/derek morgan

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glowingspence · 3 years ago

Text

Caring hands

Warning: Sexual Content [in Chapter 3]

Summary: Morgan finds out that Spencer never really had the change to really enjoy sex due sexual partners that want him to mask during it. He is about to change that and puts so much effort in it, it becomes much more.

Category: Fluff/Smut/Light Angst [Will I ever write something without angst? Probably not]

Paring: Derek Morgan/Spencer Reid

Word Count: 4534

Chapters: 3/3

Read all on ao3

Chapter 1 below the cut:

They don't talk much about sex.

Spencer thinks it is a stereotype that guys allegedly do that while he has heard JJ and Emily talk about it a lot more graphic and detailed than Derek and him do.

Sure they do sometimes, little jokes about having had a one night stand and how Derek likes to brag about it but Derek has this weird habit that whenever Spencer had sex he will know. For some reason he just does. Anything gives him a tell and Spencer to this day has not found out why.

In the beginning Derek didn't know either what it was but with some profiling it was clear.

Everytime Spencer did have sex the night before he was a lot more sensitive to things touching him and textures he needs to touch and his mind will take a little bit longer processing questions.

Not much you couldn't tell if you aren't close with him.

And the most obvious thing is that he always tucks himself away. Mostly thicker closes, moes layer. Shielding himself by wrapping his arms around him. Gaining always as much distant as possible and for a long time Derek just put it off with his sensory issues and that when a neuro typical person feels this much, maybe Spencer will feel even more and that this is just a lot to process. That this is good but when he walks into the office and just looks genuinely distraught and scared and just eventually freezes in his spot Derek gets up approaching him.

"My man!" He jokes as an attempt to cheer him up. "Boy or girl?"

"Girl" Spencer answers quietly, they both aren't silent about their sexuality. Both open to date men as well as women.

Spencer had outed himself merely by accident when they were working a case and told them that he just loves the person and doesn't care about the gender and when most of the others had starred at him he didn't know what he did wrong.

"She nice?"

"I need to get out" Spencer tells Derek really quiet and the man nods and puts his hand behind Spencer's back not touching him but leading him to the bathrooms where Spencer the moment Derek locks the door behind them, starts pulling of his sweater and then fiddles at his tie, "Get it off"

"You are alright, Spencer. Deep breaths"

"Get it off" He yells again while Derek resolves the knot and eventually pulls the tie off and Spencer is tapping his chest and then goes over to flapping his hands. "Shirt. Shirt too"

"I will" Nervously Derek resolves the bottons and then pulls the shirt out of Spencer's pants and pulls it off. "Better?"

"Better" Almost relived, only wearing his under shirt now Spencer looks at him and after a few moments of panicking he mumbles a quiet,"Sorry"

"Nothing to be sorry for I will get you my jacket." The moment Derek bought that jacket it wasn't his anymore. It is not really soft from the inside but rather clean as Spencer would describe it. Soft in a way that they isn't a fabric that had bumps and fluff but is just clean and smooth and when he wears it, it's like peace is hugging him and it's so heavy because it's to big and it's almost perfect expect for the fact that it has cord on the outside and that is a huge no go. He is definitely not touching that.

"Did anything happened last night?" Morgan asks as he holds the jacket open for Spencer to slip in.

"Yes"

"Do you want to tell me?" He picks Spencer's shirt and tie of the floor making a mental note to wash it for him so he doesn't have to touch the stuff that was on a bathroom floor. "No pressure, we can talk about it sometimes else."

"I - I- sometimes have the problem during it- you know- with the feeling- and- people are not really understanding."

"Can you elaborate?"

"People expect me to mask - and I do. I really try but I can't mask everything. And she was, you know- sitting on my - and it felt really good and it was a lot so I accidentally whined and - and - I - flapped my hands - hands and - and she pushed them down and told me to - to not ever do that again to any women during - during sex and I really needed to because she made me feel good but it was all to much and she just kept going and I couldn't- it all - I just want to be able to have sex like everyone else."

"They always tell you that?"

"What?"

"To mask."

"I just do mostly, surprisingly guys are more understanding if a stim slips but they don't want it either."

"You shouldn't have to mask and what that women did was wrong I hope you know that. You stimming or whining as you call it is the equivalent to her moaning. That's how she signals or realises that feeling that you have too and it's okay to stim or do anything. When you have sex with someone, you should be as safe and comfortable as the other person and I have to tell you I have no idea how hard that maybe is for you but you should be allowed as much as the other person to do what you need to do for it to become a good experience."

"You really don't know how less understanding people are do you?"

"I probably don't. I am aleady annoyed by the people we see every day here at the office." He jokes hinting at the guy that they made fun of the other day after he in the morning made fun of Reid and then in the afternoon tripped down the stairs and broke his wrist.

Spencer had felt so bad for laughing when he heard that, that afterwards he apologised to Hotch with tears in his eyes saying he didn't mean to wish him any harm and that he doesn't like that someone got hurt and that he doesn't know why he laughed and Hotch had been so confused he just told Spencer off so he feels taking seriously and then just starred at his wall for a few seconds before huring after him and pulling him in a long hug promising it is okay to feel sorry and its okay to emphasise with him even if Derek told him that this guy deserved it.

"And you aren't even me"

"C'mon why are you even doing this still to yourself? Why not waiting on the right person?"

"Maybe they will be one of them." Spencer tells him with honesty in his eyes. His arms disappearing in the long sleeves of the jacket. "It's dump I know."

"Nah you are right just - just promise me you will be more clear of your boundaries. Am I right with the assumption that last night was a little bit to much?"

"I didn't say stop it wasn't her fault. I am fine, I promise. Don't make a big deal out of this."

"I won't."

Weeks go by and the thoughts about what Spencer had told him don't leave his mind. He always travels back to the disappointment and hope that he will someday find someone that is understanding while Derek could not imagine how someone could not be.

In general and especially with Spencer.

He couldn't imagine forcing him to hide a stim when he is laying underneath him, filled with so much joy about what they are doing that he would want to stop that.

He couldn't imagine having Spencer in his lap, kissing him and making him feel good in any way it's possible and then forbidding to show it.

He couldn't imagine having his thin body all under his power, all his trust in his hands and then to brake it with such carelessness.

"Spence wait" Derek calls after him when he aims for the elevator. "Where are you going?"

"It's late. It's friday" Spencer tells him while Derek holds the elevator doors open.

"Not for you it isn't."

"Do you really need me to spell it out for you?" He asks with an annoyed expression. "I am having a date tonight."

"Oh"

"Oh?"

"No no sorry. I - have fun."

"Thank you" Worried Derek backs up and leaves him alone with his date but leaving his ring tone on and when he sees Spencer the next morning, with the same distraught expression and the same tiredness he had the last time he makes his decision final.

"Let me take you out on a date." Spencer chuckles uncomfortably while putting down the books he brought from home on his desk. "I am being serious"

"Why do you want to take me on a date? Did you lost a bet to Emily or something?"

"Every time you walk in here with the same disappointment on your face, let me show you it doesn't have to be this way." Spencer studies him for a moment and then straightens up. "Don't feel pressured you don't have to say yes we will never talk about it again or we will do it some time else-"

"Why?"

"Because I think you deserve to learn that it can be different and that you don't have to put up with that just to get laid."

"I don't have to get laid - I don't have to sleep with someone-"

"I know"

"I don't want to answer yet. I don't know what to answer yet. This is an very unexpected question."

"You are all good, you can take all the time you need." Derek gives him an encouraging smile and just when he turns around,

"I'd love to."

"Then I will pick you up at seven"

"Wait tonight?"

"If it suits you."

"Yes. Yes."

Continue reading here

#spencer reid #derek morgan #ao3 fanfic #moreid #autistic spencer reid #my writing

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scullydubois · 4 years ago

Text

Only the Light Ch. 19

Fate touches Scully's life, as does her own free will.

-----------------------

Can you still call something a miracle when you could not have gone on without it? When, if it hadn’t happened, the death knell would have sounded in your memory? Is that really a miracle, or is it just what had to occur? Certainly what keeps you breathing wouldn’t be so highly esteemed if the chips fell the other way. It would be called a tragedy, and no one wants to live in a world where every moment is caught between the two.

Scully existed there for a little while, but she’s escaped. Maybe for good. Because this--the Lace’s sacrifice, her signature on the adoption paper, her baby in her arms--is no miracle. This is God realizing she’s gotten her fair share, that he owes her a break. This is her fate.

In more normal circumstances, the foster family and the adoptive parent would have no contact. Social services would handle the transition. Since those barriers are already broken in Emily’s case, the state allows the Lace’s and their son to accompany Emily as she’s turned over to Scully. The nondescript woman in the polo shirt joins them as a witness to the custody change, and so they all find themselves at Bill Jr.’s house--of all places--for one grievous goodbye and a destined hello.

Mrs. Lace passes Emily to Scully moments after the family walks through the door. Her red-rimmed eyes reveal the depth of her agony.

“Take her,” she says. “I need to start letting go while she’s still in my sight.”

Scully bites her lip, feels Emily’s pudgy hand press into her shoulder. “I’m so sorry, Mrs. Lace. I can’t imagine how hard this must be. I’ll make good on my promise to send pictures and updates, I swear.”

“Thank you, Dana.” She sighs. “It’ll be an adjustment.”

Her husband taps the head of the little boy by his knee. “This is Andrew, our son. He wanted to make sure Emily has the best life possible, so he made you a guide to her favorite things.”

The boy--no more than five--holds up a construction paper booklet with crayon drawings of him and baby Emily. How To Mak My Sister Smile, his stilted handwriting reads. Scully’s heart skips a beat as she accepts it from him. She kneels down so he’s level with her and Emily.

“Thank you, Andrew. This is so sweet and I’ll be sure to read every bit of it and make sure your sister smiles every single day, okay?”

He nods, but tears cloud his vision.

Scully turns Emily so that she’s perched on her knee, facing Andrew. “Tell me--what’s your favorite thing to do with your sister?” she asks him softly.

He rubs his eyes and nose. “I like to show her my cars,” he stammers.

“Your cars? Wow!” Scully effuses. It’s not often that she gets to work on her kiddie voice, and she’ll need that now.

The color returns Andrew’s face. “Yeah, yeah, my race cars! I have a mat for them, and I push them around the track, and she watches. She likes the races. They make her laugh sometime.”

“Wow! You sound like a great big brother.”

“Yeah, and I like her bouncy thing too,” he sputters. “It was mine before.”

“An activity jumper,” Mr. Lace clarifies. “From Fisher-Price.”

“Ahh.” Scully’s happy to get any insight she can into her daughter’s early life. The Lace’s offered to send some toys with Emily, but Scully will only accept a couple onesies and Emily’s beloved stuffed rabbit. She doesn’t want to take any more from them than she already is.

She adjusts Emily on her knee, looks to Andrew. “Do you wanna give your sister a hug?”

“Okay.” He moves bashfully toward her and wraps his arms around Emily. He holds on until Emily begins to fuss, then steps back like he’s been caught sneaking away from time out.

“Emily’s lucky to have a big brother like you,” Scully tells him. “Your parents have my phone number, and you can call and talk to her whenever you want, okay? I know she can’t say much yet, but she’ll grow into it, and besides, she’ll recognize your voice.” Scully offers him a spirit-boosting smile. “Does that sound good?”

He nods, hands linked behind his back. Stranger shyness has taken over.

“Good. She’s gonna need her big brother to stick up for her.”

Scully stands up, clutching Emily to her chest.

“Mr. and Mrs. Lace,” Scully addresses them, “it’s impossible for me to sum up how deeply, deeply grateful I am for you and your sacrifice. It is no exaggeration to say that you have saved my life. I can already tell that Emily is so lucky to have been raised by you--that you have done an incredible job--and I hope that the two of us will continue to be a part of you and your son’s lives as Emily grows up.”

Mrs. Lace dabs her cheeks with a tissue. Mr. Lace frowns at his wife’s pain. “That means a great deal to us, Dana,” he replies.

“We feel blessed to have led Emily through her formative months,” his wife murmurs through her tear-strickenness.

The man nods. “She’s a wonderful kid, and I’m sure some of that comes from you.”

Scully smiles tautly. “I could say the same of you. Thank you for giving her the start I was denied from providing her.”

“You’ll let us know if you need any help, won’t you?”

“Of course. I’ll have your number on speed dial by the end of the night.”

The Lace’s formal goodbye had taken place at home, they said, and dragging out their visit would only make matters worse. They leave Bill Jr.’s house after a few short minutes, advancing down the front steps like a funeral procession.

When the door shuts and Scully’s baby is in her arms, she realizes that this will be her life for the rest of her life. What joy--! What horror--!

----------------------------

The heater’s gentle sigh provides a generous rush of white noise as the girls settle for sleep. It’s the time of year when San Diego’s nightly temperatures start drifting away from perfection, when sleeping with the windows open no longer has such appeal. According to Bill, it’s not cold enough to turn on the heating system (surprise, surprise) so he pulled a dusty space heater from the closet for the “girl’s room” to share. Like a gentleman, Mulder took the couch (as if he had any other option), leaving Scully, Missy, and now Emily with the guest room. A family affair, one generation rounded out by another.

It’s a convenient arrangement, really. Bill doesn’t have a crib and it’s not worth buying one for a single night, so Emily will be sleeping on the bed like a grown-up. If Missy weren’t there as a physical barrier, Scully would be taking the chance that Emily might roll off the unattended side. Instead, the little girl’s mother and aunt will be an arm’s length away for her first sleep with her new family. A symbolic gesture of the protection they hope to provide for the rest of her life.

It’s a wonder how smoothly the transition has gone. Emily hasn’t shed a single tear since the family she knew left her in this strange house. Then again, Scully has never seen her daughter cry; like her mother, she must not be prone to it.

Tara served a ham for dinner while Scully spooned mashed carrots and peas into Emily’s mouth, her helicopter parenting beginning early. Mulder made some joke about gourmet baby food, and everybody laughed except Bill, and Scully felt that she finally understood what was meant by family--some who share your blood will never fit into it, but some who were once strangers will more than make up for that absence.

And now, as Scully lowers her onesie-clad daughter onto the guest bed, there is peace. Terror, too, lingers in her mind, but it’s the unwarranted kind. She is the mother to a healthy baby girl. Yes, there will be challenges. Yes, a person loved separately from yourself is a person you could lose. But the summit has been reached; the worst did not happen, and now everything else pales in comparison. As far as Scully’s concerned, she can never be truly hurt again. Because if anything happens to Emily, well, this is what Scully asked for, and what gives her the right to complain? Beggars can’t be choosers, and she begged God for this...The Lord giveth, and the Lord taketh away. This happened in the opposite order for her, so she can only assume more loss is to come, and she will accept it. She will.

Scully slides beneath the comforter, snaking her arm out from under to rest a hand on the small of her baby’s back. A comfort very familiar to her, and one she will bequeath to her daughter. They have the bed to themselves for now. Missy is in the living room downing a beer with the boys and trying to compete with (or mediate?) their trash talk. In the past, a situation like this might worry Scully, but those old concerns look so small now.

Only a few hours in, and she already feels much more at home with the title of mother, much more deserving of it. The first diaper she changed rivaled some of the operations she witnessed in med school, both in its gruesome nature and in requiring multiple pairs of hands. Mulder would help if Emily was a boy, he swore, but he claimed to be “out of his depth with her plumbing” as he put it. Missy quipped that you sure are and it made even Bill laugh and life was wonderfully rose-colored through Dana Scully’s eyes.

She hopes for sweet dreams for herself, but much more so, for her daughter, and she is aware that this is how it will be for the rest of time. Having been half-asleep when she was put down, Emily lulls into even-breathed dozing before Scully can decide on a lullaby. No harm done; Scully’s vocal cords haven’t seen regular exercise since college karaoke, and she’d hate to disappoint so soon.

When she opens her eyes again (she hadn’t realized she closed them, but apparently she had), Emily is deep in sleep, her eyelids twitching to the rhythm of her unseen dreams. And Missy has joined them too, her mouth drooping like it did when the sisters shared a bed every Christmas Eve. Scully doesn’t know what time it is, and with such a picture perfect view in front of her, she won’t dare to roll over and check the bedside clock. How nice it is to exist beyond time’s constraints, even for a moment.

Scully is as present, maybe, as she’s ever been. She’s touched by the past and the future, ironically giving her a heightened awareness of now. One side of her consciousness is borne back into childhood and the many nights she slept by her sister’s side--in this very city, in fact. The other sees a path of hope unfurling in front of it, finally. She wonders whether her happiness might multiply, like a drop of food coloring unleashed into water. Might Emily be the shield that she’s needed?...Maybe the loss she expects will not be what comes.

And what that could mean...she has meant, for a long time now, to plant Mulder firmly in her life. Partner is much too fleeting--the Bureau could close the X-Files tomorrow, and then they’d be nothing but ex-coworkers. They’ve established where they stand through silences that say more than words ever could. She loves him, he loves her, and my god, neither one wants to lose that. It’s only now that Scully is realizing that they haven’t--or she, rather, hasn’t--embraced what they have, and so there is nothing to lose, and very little to cherish.

With all this change in her life, she thinks, why not add that to the list?

--------------------------------------

They fly back into DC on Emily’s first birthday. November 2nd. Or at least, that’s the date that was left on the note at the foster agency. Scully isn’t sure exactly what she was doing last November 2nd, but she wasn’t having a baby, that’s certain. It was around the time of Aubrey, Missouri and BJ and nightmares, she remembers that. Plus, the phantom pregnancy, and the fear. The universe has a way of echoing itself.

They’re off to Mama Scully’s as soon as they make it off the tarmac. She’s aching to see her granddaughter, as she let Dana and Melissa know through a barrage of phone calls. I even made cupcakes and bought decorations for a warm welcome home! she insisted. Neither one of them can remember their mother being this excited about anything since...honestly? Ever. And they can’t blame her; Emily is the greatest thing that’s ever happened to their family. If only their father were here to meet her.

This is the sorrow that Scully has not had time to pick at. Her hero, her role model, the blueprint for all she wants Emily to be, not around to see it happen. She can’t think further than that; it’s the loose string that would unravel the sweater.

Mama Scully opens the door before they make it up the front steps, armed with yellow balloons and a party hat for the birthday girl. What a way to meet your grandmother.

“Hello dear!” It’s unclear whether she’s referring to Emily, one of her daughters, or the three as a unit. “Look at you…” she cups her hands around Emily’s head, and now they’re pretty sure who she’s referring to. “You’re like a little princess!”

Scully smirks. She’s glad to witness her mother’s happiness, of course, but they’ve just finished five hours of travelling with a baby. “Mom, please, could you save the theatrics for inside?”

“Oh, I have a whole other set of theatrics planned there,” Mama Scully quips. She clears the way, ushers the group into the house.

She touches Mulder’s shoulder as he passes. “Fox! I almost didn’t see you there.”

“Well, I can’t compete with Emily, so I don’t blame you.”

“She is precious, isn’t she?” Mrs. Scully gazes toward the doorway that Scully and Emily have since deserted. “There’s a place for you in Emily’s future, you know.”

Mulder shoves his hands in his pockets. “Oh.” He doesn’t know what else to say to that, and besides, it should be up to Scully.

“Unless there’s another woman in your life…?”

“No, no, I just--” he chuckles. “I didn’t expect that.”

Mama Scully lays a hand on his arm. “I care about you, Fox. Your well-being is deeply connected with my daughter’s.”

“Yes, of course…” He really, really would like to go in now.

“And it’s important to me that she has a strong support system throughout this ordeal. Raising a child is a tremendous challenge, and I don’t want her to feel that the burden is hers alone.”

“I completely agree.”

“That’s why you should adopt Emily, too. Give her the gift of a father.”

Mulder’s brain short-circuits. “I--what? Mrs. Scully, I don’t know--”

She puts a hand on his back and leads him inside. “Think about it. You and Dana, forming a family for this child that needs one. It would be a little untraditional, of course, but the wedding could come in due time, no need to rush.”

Mulder’s head is spinning. This is a practical joke, right? The hidden cameras can feel free to reveal themselves any time now.

The pair stops in the front hallway, a safe distance from everyone else in the kitchen. Mulder tries to mold his thoughts into cohesive sentences.

“Mrs. Scully, your intentions are good, but I think this solution is a bit extreme. I’m more than happy to help with Emily as much as possible, but becoming her father would just make things more complicated for all involved. And trust me, even if I were onboard, there’s no way Dana would go for it.”

Mama Scully nods. “I anticipated that. I’m going to talk with her tonight, straighten things out.”

Mulder does an awkward side-to-side shuffle. “If there’s one thing I know about her, it’s that her mind is not easily changed.”

“Yes, well, I doubt this is something Dana has given much thought to. I’m hoping to get my argument across before she takes sides.”

“Mmm.” Mulder looks off toward the kitchen, where he would like to be.

“I’ll let Dana know that we’ve discussed my proposition,” Mama Scully continues, “and then you two can talk it over, alright? I don’t mean to force you into anything. It just feels like a logical step. I’m sure you’d agree that your relationship is deeper than that of many married couples.”

“Sure, but it’s very different too,” Mulder mutters. This is not a topic to delve into with his partner’s mother, of all people. “I don’t know that they can be compared.”

“Perhaps you should consider it.”

Mrs. Scully holds her hardened glance for a long second, and Mulder is the one who breaks. He scoots out of her direct line of sight, then gestures for her to go before him into the kitchen. “Shall we?”

------------------------------

They celebrate Emily’s 365th day around the sun like they’ve been by her side for every one of them. Before the crew arrived, Mama Scully whipped up vanilla cupcakes with chocolate frosting and rainbow sprinkles, or as she put it, “a little bit of everything since I don’t know what she likes.” She even bought a happy birthday banner and sharpied in Emily’s name--not to mention five birthday hats and a humongous 1 candle that a single cupcake can barely hold up.

It’s a testament to Emily’s character that she’s so unbothered by it all. She lets Mama Scully slip the hat into place, shows no visible distress to the admiration she receives from the room. She prefers her mother’s arms over anyone else’s--they are, after all, the most familiar of the unfamiliar--but she’s content anywhere that welcomes her. And this is a place where she is most welcome.

Scully reminds herself to capture these little moments in her mind...Emily’s effervescent giggle as Missy tickles the bottoms of her feet, Mulder helping Mama Scully add extra sprinkles to each cupcake, the warm hug of a family’s company. Love, love, there is so much love here.

The time comes for cake and singing and blown-out candles. Well, candle in this case. Mulder performs the honor of lighting said candle as everyone gathers around, Emily nestled in her mother’s arms.

“Ready?” Mulder inquires. He conducts in time with his countdown. “One, two, one, two, three…”

The rendition is not in tune on anyone’s part (though Missy is the closest), but at least their intentions are harmonious. Scully’s heart swells. Mulder and Missy throw in a zany “and many more!” for the cherry on top of a joyous moment. Scully mourns its end; the birthday song is much too brief.

“Make a wish!” Missy chirps, and Scully leans forward and blows out the flame for her daughter. Safety, happiness, love...these are the things she asks for. These are the things that everyone deserves.

Scully’s not surprised when her mother pulls her aside a few minutes later and leads her to the library, leaving Emily at Missy and Mulder’s mercy. Her mother is fond of sentimental speeches, but not brave enough for an audience. Scully steels herself for a mushy-gushy outpouring.

Mama Scully shuts the door, turns to her daughter. “I’m overflowing with joy. Aren’t you?”

“Yes, mom,” Scully answers, tiresome already. “I’m a bit afraid this is all a dream that I’ll wake up from at any moment.”

“Pinch yourself. You’ll see that it’s not, I promise.”

Scully pinches her bicep, more for her mother’s amusement than anything. This is, in fact, reality.

“You must be very overwhelmed, I imagine,” Mrs. Scully remarks, beginning to pace. Scully follows with her eyes.

“There is a lot that I haven’t sorted out yet, yes,” Scully replies, her suspicion about her mother’s intentions growing. “Work, for example. I only have one more day off, and then I have to explain everything to Skinner, and hopefully I’ll qualify for maternity leave. But the Bureau isn’t very good about that, it’s only two weeks.”

“Just remember that I’m always available to babysit Emily if you need it.”

“I know, mom.”

Mama Scully allows herself to get side-tracked for a moment. “You have a crib though? And diapers, and a high chair?”

Scully nods. “Required for the home study.”

“Good.” Mama Scully sweeps back a wayward piece of her daughter’s hair. “I don’t ever want you to feel like you’re all alone in this.”

Her mother’s soft gaze unearths a sudden swell of emotion; tears prick at the back of Scully’s eyes. “I know, mom.”

“And I know that you’re gonna say you are Emily’s only legal guardian, and so you are technically alone, but you know what? You don’t have to be,” Mama Scully asserts. “There is someone out there who is willing to fill that void for you.”

Scully rolls her eyes, her brief emotional trance broken. “Don’t tell me you're gonna set me up with the Prizatskys’ son again.”

“Oh no,” Mrs. Scully laughs. “Besides, he’s engaged now.”

“Oh.” Scully tries to miss the patronization in her mother’s voice.

“What I’m saying is,” Mrs. Scully continues, “there is a man in your life who is loyal, trustworthy, hard-working, and in the perfect position to provide for you and Emily.”

“If you’re referring to Mulder,” Scully starts, an eyebrow raised, “I’m not exactly planning to shun him anytime soon.”

“Yes, but have you ever truly let him in?”

Mrs. Scully has aimed her arrow and hit her target, a stunning blow. The most damning parts of Scully’s inner dialogue have just been echoed back at her.

Wounded, she swallows hard. “That’s really none of your business. And just because he’s in my life doesn’t mean that he magically fills the role of Emily’s father. How would that even work? Emily would have to be shuttled back and forth...She’d be split between one parent and the other...It would make her life more hectic.”

“Dana, Dana…” Mama Scully pulls her daughter close, recognizing that she’s struck a nerve. Scully stiffens into the hug. “Remember when you were little, and your father would be gone on long deployments, and you’d draw pictures of him in his uniform, and tell your class about how your father was a Navy captain, and you were so proud? You barely had a sense of what that meant, but you knew he was doing something important.”

Scully relaxes into their embrace. “And when I missed him the worst, you’d let me wear his old sailor hat.”

“Yes.” Mama Scully takes a hearty breath. “I was there every day, feeding you, bathing you, sending you off to school...and you loved me, I don’t doubt that, but I wasn’t the one who put stars in your eyes.”

Scully nods against her mother’s shoulder. Damn, if she isn’t winding her way toward a convincing point.

“Emily’s gonna love you whatever you choose. But the fuller her life is--the more love she’s surrounded by--the more she’ll have to give, and the brighter her light will shine.”

Scully sniffles, shaken by the truth of this. God, to know as much love as she’s known in her life and resist it still. That’s not the way a life is meant to be lived.

“Thank you, mom,” she whispers in her mother’s ear. It’s an imprecise affirmation--encompassing everything and yet a specific something that she can no longer reject.

Scully pulls away, smiles at her mom. “No more meddling, okay? I’ll sort this out for myself.”

Mama Scully laughs. “You just needed that push. Now that the ball’s rolling, I’ll leave it alone.”

“You’d better,” Scully teases. She gestures toward the door. “I should get back to my baby.”

“Yes,” Mama Scully grins, “you should.”

-------------------------------

The knock on the door comes at a quarter to noon, as Scully expected. She didn’t expect that she’d be scrubbing grape juice off the tile when it happened, but hey, these are the disruptions everyone in her life will have to get used to. Including--especially--her.

“I’ll get it!” Missy’s voice breezes through the apartment.

A moment later, Scully finds herself level with a pair of black dress shoes. Big ones. A twelve if she had to guess.

“Scully, if you wanna know my shoe size, just ask,” Mulder jests, and has he read her mind? She feels like she’s been caught in a compromising act, though she’s done nothing but wipe up a sticky purple mess. She cranes her neck, looks up at him.

“Good morning, Mulder,” she mumbles, running her hand over the spill area. Coming up clean, she finds her footing. The top of her head is even with her partner’s collarbone.

Scully thumbs toward Emily, who is gobbling cheese crackers in her high chair without a care in the world. “Apparently she doesn’t like grape juice.”

“Grape juice?” Mulder jeers. “She knows orange juice is where it’s at.”

Scully ignores him, but makes a mental note to add OJ to the grocery list. And apple too, just to be safe.

“Let me get my shoes and I’ll be ready to go,” she says, shuffling off in her pantyhose without waiting for a response.

They have a lunchtime meeting with Skinner to explain...well, everything. Mulder doesn’t need to be there--as his partner was quick to remind him--but he insists on advocating for her. No amount of I’m not a damsel in distress, Mulder will put him off. She’s so much more than that, he knows. Hence why he’s got to do all he can so her life isn’t defined by its crises. Besides, he’ll take any excuse to sneak down to the office on his day off.

He told Scully he’d pick her up because it’d be easier on her, sure, but also because he has an important delivery to make. He nods to Missy, and she grabs the goods off the front table. He wanted to make his entrance before the big moment. His presence known, he’s ready to go.

“Emily, Uncle Mulder brought something for you!” Missy sing-songs as she places the gifts in Mulder’s hidden hands. The girl looks up, her attention easily diverted here and there.

Mulder tries to tip-toe forward--hands behind his back--without coming off as creepy, which is harder than it seems. He takes it as a good sign that Emily doesn’t spook and wonders what it means that Missy called him Uncle Mulder. Did she and Scully have a conversation about it? Is this what he’ll be known as? Or was that just a last minute reach to fill the space?

He pushes these thoughts away, focuses on the blue-eyed girl in front of him.

“Emily,” he begins, and it rolls off his tongue like a devotion, “I thought your bunny might like some friends.”

He reveals the fox first, then the UFO. His personal mark on Emily’s budding stuffed animal collection. She lets out a peep of astonishment and reaches for the fox, fascinated with its bushy tail. She hits it back and forth so it wags like a dog’s.

Mulder chuckles, his brain lighting up in places it never has before. Missy hangs back and waits for her sister to reemerge. Sure enough, Scully melts at the sight, stopping short so she doesn’t interrupt it. She clutches her heart. She and Missy share a smile.

“My, my, look at this,” Scully saunters in, ruffles Emily’s hair. “Do you know what this is, Em?” she asks, patting the fox. “This is a fox.” She points to Mulder. “And this is a Fox, too!”

Emily doesn’t get the joke, but that’s okay.

“And do you know what this is?” Mulder prompts, picking up the flying saucer. He moves it through the air like it’s flying. Emily reaches for it, and god, Mulder knows the feeling.

“This is a UFO, Emily,” Mulder tells her sweetly. “Aliens!”

“No, no.” Scully plucks the UFO from his hand. “No aliens, Em.”

She lays the saucer on the high chair tray. “Mama’s gotta go away for a little bit, but I’ll be back soon.” She kisses Em’s temple. “Auntie Missy will be right here.”

Missy steps forward. “We can play with Mr. Fox and the al--” Scully shoots her a look. ”The UFO!” she corrects, winking at Mulder. She scoops her niece out of the high chair. “Say ‘bye Mama!’”

Emily doesn’t have that grasp on words yet, and they all know it, but Missy gets her to wave. “Okay, now ‘bye Uncle Mulder!’” Another wave. Smiles all around.

Mulder and Scully move reluctantly toward the door. Scully groans as Missy and the baby girl slip from her view.

“They’ll be okay,” Mulder assures his partner.

“I know,” Scully sighs, “but will I?”

Mulder rests his hand in the familiar spot on her back as they exit her apartment. “Absolutely. Skinner will grant you the leave, and you’ll be back with your baby in no time.”

She nods, bites her lip, and slows, suddenly wistful. Mulder stops, turns to her. “Scully…?”

“Mulder, did my mom have a conversation with you?”

He nods.

“And...did you think it was kind of crazy too?”

He nods again.

She takes a breath and rises to her tip-toes. She could pretend not to know what she’s doing, but she does. Oh, she does.

“But not out of the realm of extreme possibility…?” she coos, eyes centered on his lips.

Mulder smiles shyly. He always expected it would be this way: Scully the coquette to his boyish ineptitude. Who knew she’d be stealing his lines.

His hands find her waist, pulling her closer there in the hallway. “No, no,” he muses, “I think it’s pretty solidly in the realm…” He nuzzles her neck, breathes in her sweet smell, and nibbles her ear, all in the beat of a hummingbird’s wing. “...of extreme possibility,” he purrs into her ear, satisfied with himself.

It reminds Scully of do you believe in the existence of ~extraterrestrials~ and how she knew then that he was a little bit unhinged, whip-snap smart, and too goddamn charming for his own good. That either fate or her own unconquerable desire would bring them together. She knows now that fate conspired to keep them apart. What’s unfolding is neither an act of its hand nor a last-ditch effort of a dead-end life. It is one choice among many, undertaken out of sheer belief in the happiness it could bring.

She looks into his eyes, which look back at her with a caramel-drizzle melt. Yes, yes, this is right. She fans a hand out on his cheek, runs her thumb over his mole. She has always wanted to touch it, but could never come up with a good excuse.

They’ve delayed the inevitable long enough. Scully leans in, still on her tip-toes, and Mulder bends to close the distance. Their lips meet, and there’s no fireworks. No, it’s simple serenity. Like coming home after a long time away--though this is a house they have never walked into until now, they have a feeling they will be walking into it for the rest of their lives.

And then Scully pulls away, and it’s over but it’s just beginning.

#a moment of happiness among all the angst <3 #thank you as always for reading #kinda sorta almost done #but i have one last angsty twist cause that's who i am #only the light fic #missy and scully fic #the x-files #txf #txf fic #fox mulder #dana scully #melissa scully #mine

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crookedbigbang · 4 years ago

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ARTIST CLAIMS ARE HERE!

TIMELINE:

Artist Sign-Ups: May 22-August 7

Artist Claims Open: August 6

Final Check-In: August 30

Final Drafts Due: Sept 18

Posting Begins: September 21

THE BASICS:

One of the unique aspects of a big bang challenge is the combination of fic and fanart. Artists are welcome to create art in any medium they choose, including but not limited to: mixes, videos, podfics, gifs, drawings, paintings, graphics, edits, comics, physical crafts. Art is impossible to quantify, but we do ask that artists put in a significant effort in recognition of the work that the writers are doing on the fics. Authors will be writing their fics all summer and will be expending significant time on the project. A good benchmark for artists is about 15-20 hours of work, including brainstorming and planning.

The final product should be a collaboration between author and artist. What that collaboration looks like is a highly individual process: if you get a clear artistic vision, run with it; but you should also feel free to ask your author any questions you have along the journey. Artists and authors should share drafts with each other as they go so that when the final products are posted, they complement each other well.

We have 5 wonderful Big Bang fics. Click the Read More for their summaries!

Fic 1: Take Me Out to the Ballgame Tentative Title: (not the title) take me out to the ballgame Pairing(s): Jon Favreau / Tommy Vietor Characters: Jon Favreau, Tommy Vietor Ao3 Rating: E Warnings: No archive warnings apply Additional Tags: Baseball AU ; Coming Out ; Bisexual Characters ; Dating ; Alternate Universe - Different Meeting Summary: Jon and Tommy meet playing baseball in high school and start to fall for each other, then Tommy moves away. Their epic love story continues when they end up on the same Minor League baseball team. The big question is, will they end up with a World Series ring or an engagement ring? Fic 2: Spirits that I’ve Cited Tentative Title: Spirits that I've cited Pairing(s): Tommy/Lovett; background Emily/Jon, Alyssa/Erin Characters: Tommy, Lovett, Favs, Emily, Alyssa, Erin, Dan Ao3 Rating: tentative M (for psychological horror and possible sex) Warnings: a non-consensual kiss under the influence of possession might happen, this scene is not yet written Additional Tags: paranormal investigators, slow burn, reluctant colleagues to friends to lovers, mutual pining, angst, hurt/comfort, accidental internet stars, bed-sharing, coming-out, road trips, witches getting married, demonic possession, ghosts, mythical creatures, Monster of the Week, psychological but non-graphical horror, slightly unreliable narrator, intoxication, magical mind control, themes of bodily and mental autonomy, (past) abusive relationships (not between main characters), possession induced mental health problems, worldbuilding, happy ending Summary: It’s a cold day in November when Tommy meets Lovett and his life turns upside down. Which shouldn’t be the worst thing, looking at it objectively.

Because, objectively, Tommy’s life already sucks. He is lonely, depressed, and Crooked Medium, the agency for paranormal investigations he co-owns with his ex-boyfriend Jared, is falling apart. Besides the shitty fact that he and Jared broke up, they constantly operate in the red, despite their best efforts. And it’s just the garbage cherry on top of the dumpster sundae that Jared and their only other core member, Jon, hate each other’s guts. Jon is Tommy's friend, but more importantly, he is Crooked Medium's exorcist par excellence, and for a former priest Tommy thought he might be better at the whole 'turn the other cheek' thing. He supposes that probably explains the 'former' part. So of course he panics when Jon unexpectedly buys out Jared’s shares in the company and offers Lovett a one-year apprenticeship as a medium and buys Jared shares of the agency. Suddenly Tommy’s faced with training a person who is not familiar with magic in one of the most dangerous jobs in the world, instead of relying on the experience Jared had. Despite the help from magical professors Alyssa and Dan, witch and shop-owner Erin, and their whole team—to Tommy it feels like Lovett’s credentialing next November is ages away. However, after a bonding experience involving ghost mice, Tommy slowly but surely discovers that Lovett isn’t an inconvenience at all. He is charming, attractive, hilarious, and way more talented than Tommy originally anticipated. Even their business improves, especially when they become an overnight internet sensation due to a malfunction. Instead of operating only in Boston, people across the country are now booking them to handle their mystical and paranormal problems. With each new case, Lovett learns more—and Tommy learns more about Lovett. This is unfortunate, given that Lovett is technically Tommy's intern, and the last thing Tommy needs is a harassment scandal. Tommy, naturally good at ignoring things, decides to ignore it. Which works out fine, thank you very much. At least up until Alyssa and Erin’s magical wedding in the woods. Or up until Lovett has a life-changing experience with a mirror. Or maybe even up until Lovett (plus Lovett's friend/household spirit Spencer) moves in. And just when Tommy thinks falling in love with his employee is his biggest problem, it turns out much more nefarious forces are at work. Fic #3: The gentle outline of the country we are building Tentative Title: The gentle outline of the country we are building Pairing(s): Jon Favreau/Jon Lovett/Tommy Vietor, Jon Favreau/Jon Lovett, Jon Favreau/Tommy Vietor, Jon Lovett/Tommy Vietor Characters: Jon Favreau, Jon Lovett, Tommy Vietor, Dan Pfeiffer, Alyssa Mastromonaco, Cody Keenan, Michael O' Neill, Spencer Wong, Andy Favreau, Tanya Somanader, Travis Helwig Ao3 Rating: E Warnings: No archive warnings apply Additional Tags: DC era, LA era, pining, wrong number AU, polyamory, threesomes, jealousy, slow burn, friends with benefits, angst with a happy ending, getting together, smut, fluff, blowjobs, anal sex, rimming, dirty talk, sexting, drinking, marijuana, sex under mild influence of alcohol, friends to lovers. AO3 (working) Summary: It takes spending the night in one room with a king-sized bed for Jon, Lovett, and Tommy to finally get it right after nearly a decade of trying. AKA A story about Jon, Tommy, and Lovett getting together, aided and abetted by Jon’s technological ineptitude, misunderstandings, love, friendship, and longing. Expanded summary: Jon and Lovett embark on a charged, text-based flirtation without knowing the other after Jon texts the wrong number during the 2008 general election campaign. It feels like a summer fling that wouldn’t end, just like those times Jon had slept with Tommy back in Chicago. But both of them do end, but at least Jon’s going to the White House with a new speechwriter and his best friend in tow. Jon thinks, not the right time then with Tommy, not the right time now with you, Lovett. They write speeches and policies and learn lessons on how to build a country and a friendship. The first summer at the White House, Tommy starts taking Lovett to bed almost every night. Two years later, he stops, because Lovett knocks on his door one day and says, “I am leaving.” Not quite the right time for you and me. Lovett spends his days in LA writing things very different from what he used to but thinking thoughts about Jon and Tommy that aren’t all that different. Jon and Tommy skype him from Chicago when his show gets canceled, and Lovett thinks about how right they look together on the screen, like they belong to each other. Jon comes to LA and doesn’t leave. Tommy moves closer, but not close enough. They lose everything when November 2016 dawns and then build an empire from the ruins, and over the next few months, they think, maybe it wasn’t the right time then, and maybe we did not do this before because we were always meant to do this together. All of us. Fic 4: Loving Him was Red - Azure Title: loving him was red - azure Pairing(s): Jon Favreau/Dan Pfeiffer, background Michael/Elijah Characters: Jon, Dan, Tommy, Lovett, Alyssa, Michael, Elijah Rating: E Warnings: No major warnings apply Additional tags: alternate universe, actors, hollywood, tabloids, love at first sight, BDSM, like lots of BDSM, spanking, flogging, humiliation, painplay, safeword use, failed scene, alcohol, alcohol abuse, drug use and abuse, divorce, bad at communication Summary: Rising star Dan Pfeiffer meets grown-up child actor Jon Favreau on the set of the movie that just might be their big break. It's a good old-fashioned Hollywood story. Boy meets Boy. Boy falls head over heels at first sight. Boy marries Boy. Boy ties Boy up and fucks him til he screams. But the Hollywood lights hit every dark shadow too and as the tabloids stir up gossip; as Jon spends more and more time at the club; and as Dan starts to wonder what comes next, the faultlines widen and their marriage falls into the abyss This is the first of a three fic arc chronicling the beginning, end, and re-beginning of an epic love story. Fic 5: Invisible String

Tentative Title: Invisible String Pairing(s): Jon Favreau / Tommy Vietor Characters: Jon Favreau, Tommy Vietor Ao3 Rating: Explicit Warnings: NO WARNINGS Additional Tags: affection, holding hands, chase sequence, shaving (face), mention of pod sponsors, wills & estates, cartoon villains, clothes sharing, Boston, plane flights, current day/LA era,Summary: Human boatshoe Tommy Vietor discovers he can claim a huge inheritance if he can prove he is married. If he does not, the $40 million fortune will go to the National Rifle Association. Best friend Jon Favreau steps up to help Tommy out. The NRA hires investigators to find information in order to break the will, chasing our boys all over Boston at one point.

#come create art for these amazing fic!#crooked big bang

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thewritewolf · 5 years ago

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Rekindle Chapter 16: Ghosts

The day after their defeat of Hawkmoth.

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31

@marichatmay

Enjoy!

Read on Ao3

The morning lights filtered in through the windows, forcing Marinette to accept that the day had begun. Still mostly asleep, she groped blindly toward the other half of the bed, searching for the familiar source of warmth that had helped her sleep so soundly last night. When she didn’t find it, she sat up on her elbows and blew aside an errant lock of hair with an irritated huff. Excluding herself, the bed was empty.

Had it all been a dream? No - his overshirt and shoes were cast aside at the foot of the bed. He’d at least been here. And unless he intended to go walking around in his bare feet, then he was still here. She sniffed the air hopefully, but couldn’t smell any delicious scents, much to her disappointment. Although maybe that was to be expected. She certainly wouldn’t have felt in the mood for cooking if that all had happened to her.

She rolled over to plant her feet on the ground and forced herself out of bed. There was a lot to do in the newly Hawkmoth-less world. She hesitated as she looked down the hall at the guest room. Maybe he had gotten up in the middle of the night to sleep alone? Poking her head in, she saw the bed was still perfectly made and waiting for a guest. So he’d spent the night with her. Her heart fluttered before remembering why he’d had to stay at all.

The living room was as she remembered it last night - restored by the Ladybug Cure, but blankets left astrew from their impromptu movie marathon.

“Adrien?” She softly called his name, not wanting to alert the neighbors. “Are you there?”

“Marinette?” Tikki replied. She turned around to track its source and found her kwami sitting on top of an envelope in the kitchen, working her way through a cookie only slightly smaller than herself. “They left before I woke up. But they left a note!” She floated off of the envelope as Marinette walked over to pick it up.

The message was simple and frustratingly vague: “I’ll be back tonight. Discovered something about Hawkmoth.”

She frowned at that. Hawkmoth. Not dad, or father, or even Gabriel. Hawkmoth. Before she could dwell on it further, her eyes widened and she frantically looked around. The Butterfly miraculous was missing!

Taking a deep breath, Marinette forced herself to calm down and think things through. “Tikki. Can kwami appear if there isn’t a wielder of their miraculous?”

Tikki considered this for a long moment. “Well, yes, but we don’t like to. It is super tiring because it means we have to manifest without a living anchor in this world.” She nibbled a little at her cookie, looking pensive. “Do you think that Nooroo spoke to Adrien?”

“Nooroo? That’s the name of the butterfly kwami?” At Tikki’s nod, Marinette continued. “I don’t see why else Adrien would take the butterfly miraculous. But I don’t understand what Nooroo could’ve told Adrien that would make him leave without saying goodbye.”

Putting a comforting paw on Marinette’s cheek, Tikki replied, “I’m sure he had a good reason. Chat Noir wouldn’t do anything to hurt you.”

Marinette flashed a smile at Tikki’s concern. “I know. But thanks for saying it. It makes me feel a little better. Especially with what we have to do next.” Marinette ran her fingers through her hair and suddenly realized how dirty she felt. Even if the sweat and grim had been cleaned off by the Ladybug Cure, she’d feel better after a shower. “Finish up your cookie. We need to talk with the mayor and call a press meeting.”

And if Adrien wasn’t back after that was over… then she’d let herself start to worry. But for now, she put on a brave face and got cleaned up. Who knows? Maybe she would meet someone new today.

--------------------------

Adrien entered his childhood home, just another shadow among many. The mansion’s defenses hadn’t been difficult to weave through. They were like an old friend to him, a hurdle he would have to constantly evade back during his teenage years. Only slightly more arduous to get around was the police sentry posted outside, but even then, the early morning ensured the guard wasn’t exactly at the top of his game.

Maybe they didn’t have a warrant yet, or maybe their lingering fear of Hawkmoth kept them from entering. Either way, only his footfalls echoed in the spacious halls, halls that felt even emptier without Gabriel’s presence looming over everything like an omnipresent shadow. Finding himself in the foyer, he looked up at the giant painting Hawkmoth had commissioned shortly after the disappearance of Emilie Agreste.

Disappearance. Adrien remembered Gabriel’s very careful choice of words, remembered how he had brushed it off at the time as him just being a strange person. Even years later, Adrien just thought that Gabriel hadn’t given up on finding his wife someday. That he was unable to move on.

His claws hands clenched into a fist. He hadn’t been entirely wrong. Gabriel hadn’t been able to move on, but that was partially because he had known something that Adrien didn’t. Something he had kept hidden from Adrien for ten years. Something that Nooroo had told Adrien after forcing himself outside the tainted miraculous. Emilie Agreste, Adrien’s mother and the wife of the person who would become Hawkmoth was alive… at least for now.

Adrien climbed the staircase and entered Gabriel’s study. Just as he remembered it, a painting of his mother hung on the wall at the back of the room. Years ago, he had discovered a safe containing the miraculous book behind it. But there was more to it than that. Pressing the hidden buttons that Nooroo had described, Adrien felt a brief rush of panic as he sunk through the floor and ended up inside an underground facility.

All his questions faded away to background noise when he saw her, resting peacefully inside a sarcophagus of glass and metal. She didn’t look a day older than how he remembered her, wearing her favorite white suit with a vibrant rose attached to her lapel. Her expression was serene, as if she was sleeping. Or was he sleeping and this was just another dream of his, the sort that he had stopped having a few years after she had vanished?

Before he could find a way to pinch himself through the suit, a tiny but ragged voice sounded near his ear. “She doesn’t have long left.”

His head jerked to the side, where he saw Nooroo, looking at him with weary eyes. He hadn’t even considered that kwami could become sick, but those doubts were put aside when he took in how frail Nooroo looked, the way that his big kwami eyes had bags under them, the way he shivered in the chill of the underground. Nooroo was looking even worse than he had before, when he had woken Adrien up in the early hours of the morning.

His words caught up to Adrien. “What do you mean? Isn’t she fine while she is in there?”

Nooroo shook his head sadly and Adrien heart dropped. “The machine is effective, but imperfect. Her sickness has advanced through the years. On the tenth anniversary of her internment, she will succumb to the infection.”

“Sickness? Infection?” He fought to keep his voice from breaking. It was hard to grasp that his mother was still alive, making it all the more painful that she was about to be ripped from him all over again. He was starting to get tired of all the tears.

“Gabriel and her used to run across the rooftops of Paris, using the miraculous not for evil but for simple pleasure.” Nooroo sighed. “But Duusu’s miraculous had been damaged during the Fall. It wasn’t safe to use. We tried to tell them but...” Nooroo looked over at the still form of Emilie. “...They didn’t listen.”

“So… Gabriel somehow built this,” Adrien gestured to the wires and tubes leading into the machine, “and put mom in it. Right?” Nooroo nodded. “Can’t I just get her out now, take her to Master Fu? There is still a week until the anniversary. That should be plenty of time to heal her, right?”

Nooroo watched him with sad eyes. “I’m so sorry, Adrien. She will last a week inside the machine, or maybe an hour or two outside of it. Even if she did live a week, there is nothing Master Fu can do. The infection is beyond mortal power to heal. There is only one thing that could possibly save her now.”

Adrien looked at his ring and frowned, deep in thought.

-----------------------------------

As much as Marinette would love to have Chat Noir by her side right now, it was for the best that he didn’t see the crowd of reporters gathered in front of her. Most were wearing bright smiles and there was an excited energy arcing around the space. And why shouldn’t they be excited? Their long nightmare was finally at an end.

She clamped down on her nervousness, remembering the lessons Chat Noir had given her way back near the beginning of their superhero career. Deep breaths. Stay focused. She had always been curious about how he knew so much about making public appearances. Now she knew.

“Citizens of Paris!” The voice of Ladybug cut through the chatter, silencing conversations immediately. “Hawkmoth, now known to be Gabriel Agreste, has been defeated for good. I am in possession of his miraculous and he is now in police custody.” She allowed them to cheer before she continued. “I will now be answering questions by the press, but keep in mind that some things must remain secret.”

“Was Gabriel Agreste working alone? Do you know if his son or any of his employees were involved?”

Marinette’s heart leapt to her throat before she got her feelings under control. It was a question she had been anticipating, but not so soon. Still, she rolled out the answer she and Tikki had prepared.

“I can only say for certain that Nathalie Sancoeur had some involvement in Hawkmoth’s plans, as evidenced by her willful assistance during last night’s battle. Adrien Agreste, meanwhile, we believe to be completely innocent of his father’s wrongdoings.”

“And where is Adrien Agreste?”

Showtime. “Since we believe he may be in danger, Adrien agreed to be hidden for his own protection. Chat Noir and I believe that this is the ideal solution for the time being. Rest assured that he is being looked after.” Hopefully that would buy time for everything to die down a little before Adrien returned to the public eye. The reporters jotted down her answer, not fully pleased with it, but at least accepting it.

The questions continued to come, but nothing made her react the way that the first one had. Some she had to turn down entirely - where the miraculous would go or how they intended to track down Nathalie, for instance.

All the while, worry gnawed at her in the back of her mind.

----------------------------

“Hey, Adrien,” she settled next to where he sat on the stairs in the foyer of his old home, in the shadow of a horribly dour painting of his father and him. His head was in his clawed hands as he stared at the ground.

He seemed startled at the sound of his own name and looked over at her with red rimmed eyes and a wavering smile. “Hey, Mari. How’d you find me here?”

She dropped her transformation and wrapped an arm around his and wiped away his tears with the cuffs of her sleeves. “It wasn’t hard. Where else would you have gone? And with the Butterfly miraculous too.”

“I could’ve taken it to Master Fu,” he offered feebly.

“Then you would’ve taken me with you.” She cupped his cheek and smiled sadly. “Sorry, kitty. I don’t want you to be alone.”

He swallowed heavily. “I found out what Hawkmoth was trying to do.”

“Was it something to do with your mother?” It was an educated guess. What else would Gabriel Agreste, the fabulously successful and rich fashion star, want?

“Yeah…” He stared off into the distance again before looking around the foyer. “You know, this place used to be my whole world. I rarely ever got to leave when I wasn’t doing stuff for his business. I didn’t mind much at the time, though. I didn’t know anything different. Besides, mom was there, so even if it wasn’t lively, it was warm and welcoming.”

She just watched and held onto him. It was clearly something he needed to get off his chest.

“We had a funeral for her three years ago. There hadn’t been any sign of her for years, so we just gave up hope.” He scowled. “Not Gabriel though. Refused to go to the funeral, so I had to go alone, see family I’d never met before and try to explain why he hadn’t show up to his own wife’s funeral.”

There was a long silence between them before Marinette said, “I’m sorry about your parents, Adrien. Your mother sounds amazing. I’m wish I could’ve talked to her, thanked her for raising such a good son.”

Adrien turned to look at her with those wide Chat eyes and for a moment she was worried she said something wrong. Then, he smiled. It was small, but it was genuine and heartfelt. “Come with me, Mari. There's someone I want you to meet.”

#MarichatMay2019 #Miraculous Ladybug #Marinette Dupain-Cheng #Adrien Agreste #Chat Noir #Ladybug #Marichat #Tikki #Nooroo #ml fanfiction #my writing #Rekindle

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clawsout83 · 5 years ago

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Adrien Aug-rest 2019: Abandon

Day 0 /-1-/-2-/-3-/-4-/-5-/-6-/-7-/-8-/-9-/-10-

Read it on AO3

"Hello Adrien! My name is Jeanne Bonenfant and I’m a social worker. I guess you want to know why we're talking today?" asked the lady on the phone.

I admit that the fact that Emilie gave me the phone and told me that I had a call surprised me particularly and, I must admit, filled with hope. "I admit that I am... curious."

The lady laughed softly on the other side of the line. "Miss Prud'Homme called me to ask me to do some research on what’s happening with your family, but I’d also like to know how things are going at home. I'm not here to judge or criticize. I ask you to be perfectly honest and comfortable with your answers. I just take notes, that's all."

I turned to Emilie, silently asking her if she knew what was going on. She gently smiled and winked at me, then motioned me to go talk to the lady in my room. She did not want to hear this conversation that would undoubtedly expose personal details that I was not yet ready to share with her. I then locked myself in my room. "Is it going to cause trouble for Emilie?" I was afraid that what I was going to say could hurt her.

"Unless she abuses you, no!" replied Mrs. Bonenfant laughing.

I sighed with relief. "Am I obliged to say everything?" I was still afraid of having to expose my double life to this stranger.

She seemed to think about the question. "Y'know? You don’t have to tell me anything, but the more you tell me, the easier it’ll be for me to understand what's happening." I approved her reasoning and then invited her to ask me her questions.

So she began by asking me what had happened the night I had run away from my shoot. "During a break, Father called to find out how things were going. I was already frustrated to have to be on the other side of the world for a photo shoot, and the few times I left the hotel room, it was to go to the shoot. I took advantage of his video call to ask him if it would be possible to visit a little after the photo shoot, but I barely had time to finish my sentence that Father flatly refused. I tried to explain that I intended to wait until the end of the shooting and always stay with my bodyguard, but it was useless. He did not want to hear anything." I let out a long sigh before resuming, giving Mrs. Bonenfant time to take her notes. "After a while, he literally barred me from replicating, and even threatened to keep me locked at home for the week after I returned home. I was furious. He had not even deigned to accompany us. I... I do not remember exactly what I said, but I think I said something like, 'Still need you to stop me!' And I ran away without turning back. I... ran, ran until I lost my breath." I could not tell her that this race had actually been from one roof to another...

"It was during this race that you found yourself at the store where Miss Prud'Homme works?"

"Yes..." I paused, looking in my memory for what really happened. "In my frustration, I did not realize that I had left only with the shooting clothes. When I caught my breath and my mind, it was then that I realized how cold I was. I entered the store, but by the time I found a coat that could be suitable, I noticed that I had left everything on the spot: my wallet, my cell phone, etc."

Mrs. Bonenfant whispered for a moment before resuming. "Yes, I have a note here that says you tried to steal the coat. I understand that it wasn’t out of malice, but out of necessity?"

I nodded before realizing she could not see me. "Yes, I... I knew that to go back to the shooting, I would need something to keep me warm. Since I did not have my cell phone, I could not call my bodyguard so he could pick me up, and I was hoping to go back on my own track to return because I did not really take the time to make me landmarks to retrace my steps. With the snow that fell later, I realize today that I would never have succeeded!"

The lady burst out laughing. "Yes, we had a hell of December, this year!" I heard her spin a few sheets before starting again. "How are things going at home?"

I took a long time to answer, feeling a ball forming at the bottom of my throat. After a few minutes of silence, Mrs. Bonenfant called me, hoping to get my attention. I was always there, but I did not know where to start. "I... Apart from the employees at the manor, I'm alone with my father..."

She seemed to understand that I hesitated in my answers. "And your mother?" I was waiting for this inevitable question.

"She has been missing for almost three years. Nobody knows what happened to her."

"I'm really sorry about it..." she said softly. "You loved her a lot, I can feel it in your voice..." I nodded. "How are things with your father?"

This was another question I feared. "He tends to stay immersed in his work."

"But he's spending time with you, at least?"

I sighed deeply. "Much less since Mother's disappearance. I... I think he has not mourned yet..."

"Did you?"

"I... I don’t know... I miss her terribly..."

She laughed softly. "It's quite normal that you miss your mother; it's the opposite that would worry me! But my question is especially to know if you think to manage to turn the page, to continue to advance in life..."

I instinctively turned to the closed door of my room, visualizing Emilie working in the kitchen. "With the support of the right people, I should get there, yes..."

"Do you think of someone from home when you talk about 'the good support'?"

I gasped in surprise. I could have thought of my father, Nathalie, even my bodyguard. Of course, Nino and my Lady were some of my potential supporters, but in the immediate future, the only person I could count on was on the other side of the door. "No..." was the only possible answer.

"What do you usually talk about with your father?"

I almost choked, trying not to laugh. "The few times we talk to each other, it is to inform me of some of his projects for which I will pose as model, or to let me know that he is disappointed with my performance at school or out of school, or still to forbid me to leave the house because my friends have organized a party that he does not want me to go to..."

I suddenly wanted to scream, worried about the turn of the discussion, while Mrs. Bonenfant seemed to think aloud. "And how are things at Miss Prud'homme's?" I suddenly felt even more worried. "I mean... she's spending time with you, or are you at home to be at home?"

"Oh! No!!" I'm not going to criticize her way of acting with me while I'm exposing the parallels between my life in France and the one I'm recently leading in Quebec! "Emilie is great! She knows that I’m autonomous enough to be able to be alone while she and Alain are at work. She left me a house key for the times I would like to go out while they are away, and we have all our dinn~ uh... our suppers together. On weekends, we go out sometimes to go walking together, or we visit her parents, or we stay at home and spend a few hours on the game console, or watch animes,..."

I stopped when I heard Mrs. Bonenfant laugh heartily. "You seem to have a good time with them! Do you feel that they’re forcing themselves? That they do it by obligation and that it’ll not last? Do you feel like you're doing all the chores and they’re abusing you?"

This time, I burst out laughing. "No! Absolutely not! From the very beginning, I felt appreciated for myself, whereas usually, I’m appreciated because of my father. They seem sincere in their affection, and if I do chores, it's because I'm the one who decided to do them. I find that, for what they offer me, it’s the least I can do to help them when they are away..."

I heard the lady go through her papers again. "Good! I think I have everything I need! I leave you my phone number if you think you have forgotten something important, or if you just want to discuss something you don’t feel comfortable talking to Miss Prud'homme or Mr Croteau." I thanked her, taking note of the number in question. "Do you have questions or anything else you’d like to discuss today?"

"Do you have news of my father? Whenever I try to contact him, I fall on his voice mail and he never returns my calls. Has something happened to him?" I might not be as happy at home as at Emilie's, but I loved my father, and his radio silence was more and more disturbing.

"Unfortunately, I don’t have much to give you as information..." She seemed to look in her notes once more. "He still seems active. I don’t know how things are going in fashion, if he has employees who can continue to create in his absence or if he has some... collections in advance? But from what I know, there would always be people at Manoir Agreste coming and going..."

I was not really convinced, but I already had a beginning of an answer. I thanked the lady and advised her that I would call her back if needed. I then stayed in my room for a moment, curling up on my bed. Father never created collections in advance, and the employees were only instructed to manufacture what he created. If what Mrs. Bonenfant said was true, then Father deliberately ignored my calls. Why?! Was I such a bad son that he had preferred to abandon me the one and only time I had finally found the courage to stand up to him?

@adrienaugust

Notes: **I don't know how these kind of things work, and I doubt I'll ever know some one who will. Just roll with it, ok ?**

#qcfamily #clawstrash

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flutter-bane · 7 years ago

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85 Questions?

I was tagged by this bean, @hetalia-happenings, you glorious bean (I thought we already were friends and yes I will love you forever-). I don’t exactly know what to do but hey we’ll try it.

I tag @capri-sunqueen, @aph-germany, @deogeno, @valisartbin, and my beautiful queen @scarfythewizard .

(So yes you must do this now!)

[The last..]

Drink: Water

Phone Call: To a “best friend” who obviously doesn’t care enough to even look in my direction anymore..

Text Message: To my REAL best friend who actually cares about me!!!

Song You Listened To: Chase Holfelder’s cover of “Animal”

Cried: Maybe the other night? I don’t remember.

Dated Someone Twice: At least 3 people twice, yeah.. I regret ever dating 2 of them.

Kissed Someone and Regretted It: No

Been Cheated On: Nope

Lost Someone Special: My grandmother and several dogs..

Been Depressed: Way too much, but I try to cheer myself up afterwards. Being sad is way too exhausting.

Gotten Drunk and Thrown Up: Dude I’m 15, I can’t drink.

Favorite Colors: Different shades of pink, red, and purple, I love blues and yellow is cool too. :3

[In the last year, have you…]

Made New Friends: Oh hell yeah

Fallen Out of Love: Nope

Laugh Until You Cried: Yep, I once laughed so hard I couldn’t breathe and broke into a coughing fit, I legitimately thought I was going to die

Found Out Someone Was Talking About You: Well yeah I mean when you’re as awesome as me- no just kidding, but yeah people have definitely talked about me.

Met Someone Who Changed You: no I don’t think so

Found Out Who Your Real Friends Were: Yep, there’s only about 6 of them, but I wouldn’t trade them for the world.

Kissed Someone On Your Facebook List: I don’t have Facebook

[General]

How Many Facebook Friends Do You Know in Real Life: I don’t have fACEBOOK

Do You Have Any Pets: I always have pets, at one point I had 7

Do You Want to Change Your Name: I used to, but now I’m chill with it. I’ve only met one other person with my name (and then there’s that stupid celebrity everyone brings up whenever I introduce myself).

What Did You Do For Your Last Birthday: Celebrated a double birthday with my best friend because hers is a few days after mine, we had a sleep over. :)

What Time Did You Wake Up: 10:20 AM

What Were You Doing At Midnight Last Night: Watching Markiplier play some scary games!

Name Something You Can’t Wait For: Hetalia’s new season for the anime (and for Gerita to become canon already).

When Was The Last Time You Saw Your Mom: Last night before she left for work.

What Are You Listening to Right Now: Max and Alyson Stoner’s cover of Sweater Weather (better than the original song)

Have You Ever Talked to a Person Named Tom: yup

Something That is Getting on Your Nerves: Everyone’s crying over social issues. It gets stale after a while. Can't we all just chill out and like..play a board game and drink some milk?

Most Visited Website: YouTube and this hellsite tumblr

Hair Color: very dirty blonde

Long or Short: My hair almost reaches my tailbone, so long

Do You Have a Crush on Anyone: My boyfriend

What Do You Like About Yourself: My drawing and singing abilities

Piercings: My ears, but I think they’ve closed up

Blood Type: I don’t know

Nickname: I find it really sad that nobody has a nickname for me and I have to give myself one; I just kinda go by Nimby online… (It must be this damn song but I’m actually tearing up over this tHIS DAMN SONG)

Relationship Status: I’m in one :P

Zodiac: Libra

Pronouns: She/Her

Favorite TV Show: I can never really pick so I’m just gonna go with Hetalia, Attack on Titan, The Amazing World of Gumball, and The Simpsons

Tattoos: Nah

Right or Left Handed: Right

Surgery: No, but I did have to get stitches in my forehead when I was younger, I’ve got my own little Harry Potter scar :P (in the shape of a crescent moon)

Sport: I don’t play sports but I guess my favorite to watch would be football (American football)

Vacation: I don’t think I’ve ever had one

Pair of Tennis Shoes: I have a couple pairs but I don’t wear them

[More General…]

Eating: cookiessss

Drinking: Water

I’m About To: Watch some youtube, maybe finish writing some drabbles for my upcoming PruCan fanfic (It’ll be on AO3 and probably wattpad because people like me there for some reason)

Waiting For: My stupid book to come in the mail so I can start my belated summer reading project (it’s a bunch total BS)

Want: to go to my bestie’s house and finally relax for once

Get Married: Someday

Career: I would like to be an actress/voice actress, but I’m focussing on becoming a meteorologist (and I’ll be creating a web comic too)

Hugs or Kisses: Give me a hug dude I live for hugs

Lips or Eyes: I don’t know how to answer that so… Eyes??

Shorter or Taller: I don’t know what you mean by this? My boyfriend is already p tall, and I’m comfortable being small..??

Older or Younger: My boy is older by almost a year, and I’m comfortable with my age?? What do you want from me here????

Nice Arms or Nice Stomach: wtf nice arms?? I like muscley arms but with a nice soft tummy built for cuddlesss

Hookup or Relationship: Relationship duh

Troublemaker or Hesitant: I’m both!

Kissed a Stranger: Never.

Drank Hard Liquor: I’m 15. I’m a sophomore. I don’t want to drink. No thanks. I’m gonna pass.

Lost Glasses/Contacts: I’ve lost my glasses before, and I’ve left them at home once. By accident of course.

Turned Someone Down: Yes it was my childhood friend and it hurt me so bad I couldn’t look at him the next day because I felt so horrible but he was cool with what happened and I cried that whole day for nothing it sucked

Sex on the First Date: F I F T E E N S O N O

Broken Someone’s Heart: Yeah..

Had Your Heart Broken: Yeah, and not just by a break up?

Been Arrested: No I’m too much of a baby to do anything that could get me arrested.

Cried When Someone Died: Yes all the time in real life and in fiction I’m the biggest crybaby you’ll ever meet

Fallen For a Friend: Y E S

[Do you believe in…]

Yourself: Yeah, sometimes! :)

Miracles: Of course! Lord willing, anything wonderful like that can happen! :>

Love at First Sight: Yeah, I guess, but don’t make any hasty decisions right there on the spot. I think it happened to me in kindergarten XD

Santa Claus: Up until the 5th grade, yeah.. Not anymore though.

Kiss on the First Date: Maybe on the cheek, I don’t want to rush things.

Angels: Of course! As the smol Christian bean I am, of course I believe in angels!

[Other…]

Current Best Friends’ Name(s): Emily, Isaac, Zach, Keaton, Griffin, Francisco. (I get along better with boys, Emms is the only girl I could hang with forever and never get bored!)

Eye Color: Grey-blue, sometimes they’re more grey than blue depending on the lighting, but they are definitely blue.

Favorite Movie: I can’t ever decide but I think I would have to pick my favorite childhood movie A Series of Unfortunate Events. It’s my all-time favorite and I wish I had it on DVD and not a vhs tape.

This took me a few hours, so I hope your happy with it. :)

I've had to go back and edit this so many times how many errors can Nimby make in one post let's find out

#tag game #she speaks #nimby talks #have fun guuuyyysss

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sequinsmile-x · 1 year ago

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Home - Chapter Seven

Revenge - (re·venge: Noun.)

The action of hurting or harming someone in return for an injury or wrong suffered at their hands.

She'd been comfortable and safe for so long that she'd allowed herself how to forget how it felt to be afraid.

A sequel to The Way Home

-x-

Hi friends,

Thank you so much for the love on this story. I know this has overall taken longer to get out than I usually intended, and I am sorry, but I hope you are still enjoying this fic (despite the heartache) and this version of them.

If you are still enjoying it, please do let me know what you think, comments make me so happy and grateful for y'all <3

-x-

Words: 2.4k

A full list of warnings can be found on the Series Master List.

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

“Maybe I should have taken the deal.”

Emily’s heart aches when she looks at her husband, the worry and fear etched into his face so obvious even from across the room that it was as if it was carved into stone. Chiselled into the hills and valleys of his face, making him look older than he was. She crosses the room, placing Eleanor’s toys that she’d gathered to put away on the armchair before she sits next to him on the couch.

“Honey, no,” she says, squeezing his hand, sandwiching it between both of hers, “No you shouldn’t have,” she smiles encouragingly at him when he looks at her, doubt making his eyes seem darker, “You wouldn’t be the man I love if you had.”

It had hung over them ever since Foyet had called him two days ago. He’d lost sleep over it, tossing and turning in bed next to her until she either laid on top of him, her weight lulling him into a restless sleep, or he gave up and went downstairs, roaming the halls of their home like a ghost of the man who had walked them just weeks ago.

His guilt, his doubt in his decision to tell Foyet he wouldn’t make a deal only got worse when the police couldn’t track the call. The man who had cracked open their lives in the wind. A shadow that couldn’t be caught.

“I put us in danger.”

“No,” she repeats, shaking her head fiercely, swallowing thickly when the motion makes her feel sick, her nausea stronger than it had been when she was pregnant with Eleanor. He still didn’t know about the baby. Her words got stuck in her throat every time she tried to say them, the joy they sparked in her belly feeling misplaced in amongst the sadness they were surrounded by. “You didn’t. You haven’t done anything wrong. You were just doing your job.”

When she thought of Foyet it made her angry. Fierce hatred she hadn’t felt since Ian had torn through their life well over a decade ago flashing in her chest in a way she hates. Haley had done nothing wrong other than open her front door to a man she didn’t know and she died for it. Aaron had done nothing wrong except for doing what he was paid to do - putting a monster behind bars that hadn’t been strong enough to hold him.

They are cut off before anything else can be said, the doorbell ringing out throughout the house. Emily leans forward and presses a kiss to his cheek, smiling softly when he turns his head to catch her lips. A soft delicate thing that they’d exchanged countless times throughout the years, something that never lost its spark for either one of them.

“I’ll get it,” she whispers, kissing him again before she straightens up and heads for the door. She frowns as she reaches the hallway, the air too cool, a slight breeze making its way throughout the home. She sighs when she spots Eleanor by the door, the porch empty as she approaches.

“Ellie,” she says authoritatively, pushing some of the girl's wild curls from her face, “What have I said about opening the door when Daddy and I aren’t with you?”

Eleanor shrugs, an apologetic smile on her face, “Sorry Mommy.”

Emily sighs, not quite having the heart to chastise her daughter properly, and she frowns when she sees something clutched in the little girl's hand, “What’s that, sweetie?”

Eleanor passes it to her, “The man said to give it to you,” she says casually as she runs back into the house, not even looking back as she goes back to whatever she’d been doing before the doorbell had rung.

“The man?” Emily says outloud, looking out into the empty street, no one around and nothing looking out of place. Her heart seizes in her chest as she looks down at what her daughter had handed her, he breath knocked from her lungs as everything slows down around her.

It was a picture. A moment from Eleanor’s latest birthday party frozen in time of what their family had looked like just weeks ago. Haley tucked in the middle of Jack and Eleanor with Emily and Aaron on her other side. There’s a smudge of blood across the middle of it, dried and flaking off, transferring onto Emily’s skin just like it had the night she’d found Haley mostly dead on her living room floor.

The picture was the only thing that had been missing from Haley’s house after Foyet killed her. The remnants of the frame it had once been in tucked away in a box at a police station. Labelled as evidence as if it hadn’t once been a gift from Emily to her friend.

The sight of the dots of dark red dried blood against her skin brings her back to herself and she gasps, crumpling the picture in her hands. She looks back outside and again sees nothing, and she slams the door shut, making sure the locks are all in place. Shaking hands double checking them as she hears her husband's familiar footsteps in the hall.

“Em?”

She turns to look at him and holds out the picture, watching as the same horror spreads over his face, the lines she’d seen earlier chiselling even deeper into his features.

“I’ll call Detective Strauss,” he says roughly, his voice tight, and she nods, frozen in place as he makes the call.

___

She knows she won’t sleep tonight.

The police had interviewed Eleanor, a gentle and soft side to Dective Strauss Emily wouldn’t have thought possible making an appearance as they asked her questions. The description she’d given of the man who’d handed her the picture matched Foyet perfectly, just like Emily knew it would the moment she’d seen it.

She’d watched the barely controlled anger roll under Jack’s skin when he realised the man who had killed his mother had been so close, that he’d had access to his baby sister. She’d watched similar anger in her husband, his fury, that he’d successfully hidden from their children but not his wife, clear as the cops explained they’d station someone outside their home overnight.

Jack excused himself to bed early, a tightness to his shoulders Emily had never seen before and a sharp tone to his voice as he said goodnight that sliced through her heart. She knew he wasn’t a little boy anymore, that he wasn’t the kid she’d fallen in love with back when she was barely older than he was now, but she still wanted to protect him. She still wished she could save him from this pain.

As she puts Eleanor to bed the little girl's inquisitive nature, which Emily usually loves, grates on her, every question about who the man had been, and why the police were so interested, making it almost impossible to not fall apart there and then. She distracts her with a story, staying until long after the little girl had fallen asleep, giving herself the comfort of her daughter fast asleep against her, her soft breath skipping over her neck.

She sneaks out of Eleanor’s room and into her own, well aware that Aaron had headed to bed at the same time Jack had. She finds him sitting on the edge of the bed, his elbows on his knees as he leans forward, his eyes flashing up to meet hers as she walks in.

“I think we should do what they said,” he says, his voice tight. Defeated. An edge to it she’d only ever heard once before. When she’d broken up with him in a misguided attempt to protect him.

The police had recommended that Emily and the kids go into hiding. A suggestion she’d shot down the second she realised they didn’t mean Aaron too, that he’d be purposely left behind like a sitting duck, waiting to draw the predator out of the shadows. No matter how many times they assured her he’d be fine, that they would have undercover police presence near him at all times, she wouldn’t accept it.

Foyet had escaped from a maximum security prison after all, a few plain clothes officers weren’t going to phase him.

“No,” she says immediately, her voice firm, “I’m not doing it.”

“You left me once when you thought it was the best thing for me,” he says, his voice soft and unaccusing, yet a stab to her heart anyway.

She scoffs, crossing her arms over her chest as she shakes her head, her teeth clenched tight as she thinks about the moment that felt like a lifetime ago. They’d basically been kids themselves, freshly in a relationship that felt tenuous at the time, too good to be true when she compared it to the rest of her life. She wishes she could talk to her 21-year-old self, that she could assure her the man she’d fallen in love with, the one who had once just been her neighbour with the adorable son, would be the person for her. The love of her life. She wished she could tell her what they’d go through, all the things they’d get to survive because they had each other.

It makes his request seem all the more unfathomable, all the more absurd.

“That was different,” she says, her nails digging into her biceps.

“How?” He asks, standing up and stepping towards her, desperation thrumming under his skin, forcing him towards her. He cups her cheeks, holding her in place as their eyes meet, “How is it different?”

“We were just kids then,” she says, placing her hands over his on her cheeks, “Now…we have so much more.”

“Which means we have more to lose, Em,” he says, resting his forehead against hers, swallowing so thickly she swears she feels the force of it in her chest. The bitter despair thick and heavy as it travels down to her gut, making it churn even more than the pregnancy he still didn’t know about ever could, “I need you to do this.”

She shakes her head, their foreheads knocking against each other, “No,” she says, pulling back to look at him, “I can’t. I won’t…” she blows out a steady breath, “I’m…I’m pregnant.”

It feels like a last-ditch attempt to make him see her way, to make him stop but she watches as it has the opposite effect, his eyes briefly flashing in shock before they become even more determined. She knows Foyet’s MO, had studied it alongside Aaron on those long nights in the lead-up to the trial, and she knew he sometimes disappeared for months. For years.

The thought of it, of raising Eleanor alone, of helping Jack move through his grief and loss alone, of having a baby alone, enough to make tears spill onto her cheeks.

“What?” He asks, feeling breathless from the admission, his gaze drifting down to her abdomen. Moments from the last few days flash through his mind. How she’d been off her food, how she’d looked nauseated at the mere mention of eggs and bacon that morning. How she’d turned down wine on the evening of her best friend's funeral, “How…why…”

She smiles tightly, well aware he was asking how long she’d known, why she hadn’t told him, but that he’d stopped themselves. The heavy, cloying layer of grief that had settled over them, smothering everything they did.

“The morning of Haley’s funeral,” she says, linking their fingers together and letting their joint hands fall between them, “I just had a feeling and I could practically hear her yelling at me to take the damn test,” she says, laughing humourlessly, a sound he joins in on, as she impersonates Haley towards the end of her sentence, “And it came back positive. I made an appointment with my doctor next week,” her smile shakes slightly, “I just didn’t want this to be…tinged with so much sadness. It’s something we’ve wanted for so long.”

He leans forward and kisses her, the fierceness of the action feeling out of place with the tension in the room, the sadness in the air. When he pulls back he’s cupping her cheek again and she turns her head to kiss his palm.

“Em, sweetheart, this is a good thing. An excellent thing,” he says, and guilt bubbles in his stomach when she smiles, the first genuine one he’d seen since she found Haley barely clinging to life. It was wide and beautiful and one of the first things that had made him fall in love with her, and he knew what he was about to say would make it fade, “But it’s all the more reason for you to do what the police have suggested.”

The worst part is she knows he’s right. That despite her own misgivings, her own desire to be with him, they needed to protect their children. It was a pact of sorts, something they’d agreed to when making Jack a big brother was nothing but a far-off hope, that they’d stuck to the entire time they’d been together. The kids came first.

Something their own parents had never been able to do for them.

She nods, a subtle thing he catches, relief spreading through his veins, and she blows out a shaky breath and pulls him into a fierce hug, her grip on his shirt so tight he wouldn’t be surprised if she rips it, “I haven’t been anywhere you haven’t since I was 21,” she says, the words escaping before she can stop them, her voice muffled by his shirt before she pulls back, “I…how am I supposed to be okay with not knowing if you’re safe?”

He rests his forehead against hers, memorising the feel of her against him, the warmth of her breath on his face.

“We’ll get through this, Em,” he says, sounding more sure than he felt, “One day we’ll look back on this and know it’s another thing we survived.”

She chuckles bitterly, shaking her head as tears fall onto her cheeks, “How much are we supposed to take though, Aaron? How much are our kids…how will we explain this to them?”

He pulls her into a hug again, holding her close as he runs a hand up and down her back, providing the comfort he knows won’t work.

“The same way we do everything, baby,” he says, pressing a kiss to her temple, breathing in the scent of her, “Together.”

-x-

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sequinsmile-x · 1 year ago

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I'll Go Anywhere With You

Whilst Emily and Aaron are choosing where to go on vacation, one of the suggestions leads her to reveal a part of her past she's never shared with him before.

-x-

Hi friends

Not really sure where this came from! It's been a while since I wrote something Demonology related, so here is some Sunday evening hurt/comfort for you <3

Please let me know what you think!

-x-

Words: 3k

Warnings: Discussion of abortion

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

"'I am very fond of Charles Dickens,' Matilda said. ''He makes me laugh a lot. Especially Mr Pickwick.'

At that moment the bell in the corridor sounded for the end of class."

Emily turns to look at Jack as she finishes reading, smiling at the sight of the mostly asleep boy, his head against her shoulder as his eyes drooped. She closes the book and places it on his nightstand before extracting herself from next to him, guiding him to lie down as she tucks his covers around him.

“One more chapter,” he protests, his words slurring together, and she smiles as she sits on the edge of the bed, pushing his unruly hair from his face.

“Tomorrow I promise, sweet boy,” she says, leaning forward to kiss his forehead, “You get some sleep.”

He hums, any further complaints lost as the pull of sleep wins out, “Love you, Em’ly.”

She feels her smile shake slightly, the force of her love for this little boy still overwhelming even now, almost a year on from her getting together with Aaron. Sometimes it felt like she had to pinch herself to ensure she wasn’t dreaming when she thought about it too much. The simplicity, and the pure joy she found in the day-to-day, something she was sure she’d never get to experience.

“Love you too, Jack,” she says, leaning down to kiss his forehead again, “Daddy and I are just down the hall if you need us, okay?”

He nods, his arms wrapping tighter around his favourite stuffed animal, a dinosaur she’d bought him back when she thought she’d have to win his affection, which Aaron had always told her was unnecessary. Jack loved her just as much as he did, the family she’d always yearned for right in front of her in plain sight.

She waits until he falls asleep and she sneaks out of his room, leaving the door slightly ajar in case he needs them. Nightmares were a common thing in their household, and they weren’t just limited to Jack. All three of them were prone to their monsters sneaking out of the shadows at night.

She walks down the hallway to the kitchen and she leans against the doorway, her lips pressed together as she suppresses a smile at the sight of Aaron leaning down to put the last of the dishes into the dishwasher. The sleeves of his shirt were rolled up to his elbows, allowing her to enjoy the sight of his forearms as the muscles rippled underneath. He turns to look at her, and he raises his eyebrow at her as he closes the door to the dishwasher, the last of the dishes loaded into it.

“As always, your timing is impeccable,” he says wryly, and she rolls her eyes at him as she crosses the kitchen.

“Your son wanted me to read to him,” she explains, wrapping her arms around his neck, her eyes sparkling as they meet his. He bands his arms around her back, pulling her closer as he stamps a kiss against her lips, “You and I both know I can’t say no to him.”

He chuckles, kissing her again, “So does he, thats why he always asks for you to do bedtime.”

It still made him smile when he thought of how nervous Emily was when they first told Jack they were together, nerves that had reignited just a few months ago when they discussed her moving in. He would tell her as many times as she needed to hear, he’d spend the rest of their lives reassuring her, that she was their favourite person. That, if he was honest, that had been the case long before their first kiss.

Emily smiles and rests her head against his shoulder, settling into his embrace for a moment. She looks around the kitchen and spots Aaron’s laptop on the counter, the screen bright with the internet browser open, and she smirks into the material of his shirt.

“Honey,” she starts, pulling back to look at him, desperate to see the reaction she knew she’d elicit, “How many times do I have to tell you I don’t mind you watching porn, but please don’t do it in the kitchen.”

He sighs and shakes his head, his lips pressed together as he fights a smile whilst she laughs at her own joke, “Very funny.”

“I thought so,” she replies, playing with his hair, her nails blunt against his scalp.

“It’s not porn,” he replies, rolling his eyes at her, “I was looking at places we could go on our vacation.”

It had been her idea. They both had so many vacation days to use they’d been told by Strauss that they had to take them, which, Emily thought, was probably the nicest thing the woman had ever done. Whilst she’d initially been irritated at the thought of forced time off, she was now looking forward to it. In the almost year she’d been with Aaron they’d never gone anywhere just the two of them, never had a week of uninterrupted time together, and now it was a possibility it was all she wanted. Some time with him away from their day-to-day lives, time to just exist with the man she loves.

They decided to go away for their anniversary, and as soon as she realised Aaron had only ever been abroad for work-related things, she suggested they find somewhere in Europe. She’d left it up to him since she’d been, and lived, everywhere, and was excited to be his tour guide, to see somewhere she’d been before through his eyes.

“Oh, let me have a look” she says, removing herself from his embrace but linking their fingers together, tugging him towards the laptop. She smiles to herself as he crowds her against the counter, his chest against her back and his chin on her shoulder as she unlocks the, now on standby, laptop. Her breath catches in her chest, trapped in a way that is painful as she fails to exhale, when she sees where he’s been looking at, visuals of tourist attractions she’d always done her best to avoid as a teenager bringing back memories that never seemed to get less painful. She’d never told him about what had happened there, had never found the right time to, and she clears her throat, hoping her voice wouldn’t shake, “You want to go to Rome?”

“Well, not necessarily I was just looking…” He drifts off as he feels her go tense in his arms, the levity that had existed in her frame just moments ago long gone, her shoulders tight against his chest, “Sweetheart, is something wrong?”

She swallows thickly and shakes her head, “No, nothing is wrong. Rome is beautiful,” she replies.

She’s furious at herself for the effect this all still seemingly had on her, how what had happened one summer a whole lifetime ago could still create a reaction. She’s also furious at him, even though she knows it's unwarranted. She’s not mad because of where he’s been researching, well aware that the city was a popular place to go, but because he has snuck under her walls. Burrowing his way through barricades she’d built long before she’d ever met him. She knows if it was anyone else, if any other person other than him, suggested going there she’d brush them off. Come up with a lie about the time of year and crowds as she effortlessly suggested somewhere else. But with him, it was impossible, his love for her a blessing and a curse all at once. She sighs as he turns her in his embrace, one palm on her back and the other on the laptop as he closes it.

“Em, what’s wrong?” He asks, tucking hair behind her ear, his touch delicate against her cheek. He feels concern bubble in his gut, her reluctance to talk about whatever was going on a flash of the past that he hadn’t expected to see again. It had been months since they’d hid anything they felt from each other. An argument about him harbouring guilt over her getting injured on a case that had led to a mutual agreement that they’d always let each other know how they were feeling, even if it was as simple as asking for space whilst they worked through something alone. He points over his shoulder towards the home office, “Do you want me to give you some-”

“No,” she says, holding him tighter, the thought of being alone worse than anything else, “No, I…” she drifts off, the words alluding her as she shakes her head at herself. She blows out a shaky breath and squeezes his hand. She knows she doesn’t have to tell him, that she doesn’t owe him this part of her past that was hers and hers alone, but she wants to. Wants to share this part of herself that so few people knew about, “Can we go sit down?”

“Of course,” he says, his hand tight around hers as he leads her to the living room, the journey longer than it had ever felt, the silence around them thick and cloying as they settle next to each other on the couch. She tucks her legs up under herself and leans against the back of the couch, her focus on their linked hands as she avoids his eye contact, “Em-”

“I…” she cuts him off and shakes her head at herself, “I don’t even know where to start.”

He squeezes her hand and uses the one not linked with hers to hook a finger under her chin to make their eyes meet. The look in her eyes makes him want to pull her into a hug, to go find whatever, or whoever, had made her feel like this and tear it apart until she feels better. But he doesn’t. He knows her well enough to understand she wouldn’t want that, that she didn’t need it. She was capable of fighting her own battles, something she’d proven time and time again. What she needed was his support. For him to sit here and listen, and to stand by her side afterwards.

“Wherever feels right,” he says, running his thumb back and forth over her jawline, “And take all the time you need.”

She smiles sadly and nods, biting the inside of her cheek for a moment, “You know, I really wish you had been watching porn,” she jokes, and he chuckles lightly, squeezing her hand as he does so and she does it back as her smile fades, “I lived in Rome when I was 15 for about 6 months. You remember that case a few years ago, with my friend Matthew?”

He sighs, berating himself internally for not thinking about it. He’d been so desperate to avoid Paris, to make sure he didn’t suggest the place she’d gone when she was dead to almost everyone except him, that he hadn’t even thought of the case that had led to him calling The Vatican. She watches his eyes go wide, how the few pieces of the puzzle he already had slip into place. She squeezes his hand to stop him from interrupting, an apology she doesn’t need on the tip of his tongue as he opens his mouth.

“Honey, it’s fine. So much has happened since that case and you weren’t to know,” she smiles tightly at him, “Besides, if that was it, if it was just because it’s where I met him, I wouldn’t…” she drifts off again and clears her throat, blowing out a breath before she carries on, ready to just say it, to rip off the bandaid, “I got pregnant that summer in Rome.”

Whatever Aaron had been expecting her to say, it hadn’t been that. He makes sure he doesn’t react, the need to defend her, to protect her from her past, rising in his chest again as all he does is squeeze her hand.

“I had no friends, and god I just wanted someone to like me, to fit in for once, and…I ended up pregnant,” She looks down at their joint hands again, at how their fingers seemed to fit perfectly together, as if they were made for each other, “It was terrifying and awful and I didn’t know what to do. Matthew helped me. He found a doctor and held my hand as I confirmed I wanted an abortion,” she smiles sadly as she thinks of it. At the time she’d known how young they were, but looking back on it had always made it so much clearer, her heart aching for her younger self who had always looked for love in the wrong places. Something she knows continued right up until she fell in love with Aaron, “He waited out in the hall when the doctor gave me the medication, so I was alone then.”

“Oh sweetheart,” he says, finally pulling her into a hug, no longer able to stop himself. She presses her face into his chest and curls into his lap. He runs his hand up and down her back as he kisses her forehead, “Was Matthew…”

“No,” she replies, pulling back to look at him, “He wasn’t the father, but he helped me. It’s why I was so desperate to know what happened to him because I couldn’t save him like he saved me.”

He cups her face, running his thumb up over her cheekbone, “You got him justice, Em. That’s what’s important.”

She nods, wishing she could believe it, the way she was sure she had let Matthew down, that she could have done more, one of the many things that kept her up at night sometimes. A parade of her past failures marching past her as sleep evaded her, her only solace the warmth of Aaron’s arm over her waist.

“John was the father,” she says, pressing her lips together tightly, “He yelled at me when I told him I was pregnant. As if it was any less his fault than it was mine.”

“John?” He asks, furrowing his brow, his grip on her tightening, “The guy we rescued?” He asks and she nods. He clenches his teeth and shakes his head, “If I’d have known that I would have let that priest have 5 more minutes with him.”

It makes her laugh, something she wouldn’t have thought was ever possible when she was talking or thinking about this, and she shakes her head at him, her hand on his cheek as she kisses him quickly.

“No you wouldn’t have, you’re too good a man for that,” she says, smiling softly, “It’s one of the many reasons I love you,” she pulls back to put a bit more space between them. “I don’t regret it, it was the right decision for me, but I wish it never happened. And it’s kind of made being there difficult,” she says, thinking of when she’d returned in her mid-20s, how she’d been surprised by how she’d been hit by emotions she’d spent a decade pretending didn’t exist. “I don’t look at the Spanish Steps and think of how beautiful they are, I think of where I sat when I had a positive pregnancy test at the bottom of my backpack, in a trance as I wondered about what the hell I was going to do. I don’t think of the Colosseum and its history, but of the tour I went on with my school whilst I had cramps so bad from the medication I’d taken that I thought I was going to pass out. It’s just…not a place with memories for me that I want to revisit.”

“I’m so sorry, sweetheart-”

“You have nothing to apologise for,” she assures him, pushing some of his hair from his forehead, “You didn’t know. I never really knew how to tell you,” she shrugs, “I guess I was worried you’d judge me for it, which is ridiculous when I think about the other stuff you know about me.”

He pulls her back into a hug, letting her settle against him, the weight of her in his embrace one of the most comforting things he’d ever experienced, “I’d never judge you for anything. I hope you know that.”

She nods and turns her head to kiss his shoulder, “I know, I promise. It’s just never been easy to talk about.”

He kisses the top of her head and holds her a little tighter, “You’re the bravest person I know, Em,” he says, smiling at her when she tilts her head to look at him, a wry smile spreading over her face.

“Even braver than Derek?”

He nods, “It’s one thing to burst through doors, sweetheart,” he says, purposely minimising Derek’s actions at work to make her smile get wider, “But it’s another thing entirely to do what you know is right, even when it’s hard.”

She feels love for him burst in her chest and she pulls him in for a kiss, holding him in place with her hand on his cheek. She rests her forehead against his, “I have a suggestion on where we could go instead,” she says, purposely changing the subject, desperate for some relief from the sadness that had swept over her, and he smiles encouragingly at her as she carries on, “Barcelona.”

He can’t control the shiver that the way she says Barcelona causes, the slight accent enough to make him hold her even tighter. He allows himself to picture it. Her skin a golden colour under the Spanish sun, a glass of sangria in her hand. The engagement ring he’d bought weeks ago that was burning a hole in his briefcase on her finger from when he’d propose to her on the beach.

“Interesting,” he says, stamping another kiss against her lips, “I think I would enjoy Spain. I’d enjoy anywhere as long as I’m with you.”

She hums, “It’s beautiful,” she says, running her fingers through his hair again, “And…the beaches are gorgeous. It means I’ll be able to wear that bikini you like so much.”

His eyes go wide and he kisses her once more, a fierce press of his lips against hers before he shifts her out of his lap and gets off the couch, already walking towards the kitchen as he replies.

“I’ll book the flights.”

-x-

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sequinsmile-x · 1 year ago

Text

Stained Glass Windows - Chapter Fifty One

Life was complicated, but they wouldn't have it any other way.

-x-

Hi friends,

As always, thank you so much for your love on this fic! Now we are past chapter 50 it felt like time for another new banner, so I hope you like it!

Also, this chapter of SGW makes my overall word count on AO3 tip over into 1.7 million....which is absurd. That means I am now about 35k words away from having written more words for Hotchniss than there are words in the entire Game of Thrones 'A Song of Fire and Ice' series!! Again...absurd haha

Whilst this chapter, and the next couple in this story, are quite domestic and fluffy....we do have some more drama and hurt/comfort to come.

Please do let me know what you think <3

-x-

Words: 2.9k

A full list of warnings for the fic can be found on the Series Master List and will be updated as we go along.

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

Emily blows out a steady breath as she lifts Lily out of her car seat and holds her against her chest.

“You ready?”

She turns to look at Aaron, the understanding smile on his face going some way to make her feel slightly less ridiculous, but not entirely curing the mix of anxiety and guilt swirling in her gut.

It was her first day back at work. The past few months had flown by. The days had been long, sometimes drawn out with very little sleep and a type of exhaustion she hadn’t known existed, but now looking back on it she couldn’t believe her maternity leave was over. Surgery and a traumatic birth she knew she still hadn’t entirely processed felt like they had happened both a lifetime ago and just yesterday simultaneously.

Emily nods tightly, even though she feels anything but, and she watches as he grabs the diaper bag out of the back of her car and then closes the door for her. They’d driven in separately since he had to go straight to the jet once they dropped off Lily for her first day in daycare. Emily had heard something she refused to call panic rise up in her chest as she was making sure she’d packed enough milk for Lily when she heard Aaron’s phone ring. A call at that time in the morning only ever meant one thing - a case, and the thought of dropping their little girl off for the first time, by herself, made her more anxious than staring down a serial killer ever had.

She was sure she’d never loved her husband more than when she heard him say he’d meet the team on the jet, that he had something important to do first. It was one of the moments when she was strangely grateful that she was his second wife, his second chance. He had taken the lessons he’d learnt from the mistakes in his marriage to Haley and was doing what he could to make things right now.

Aaron wraps his arm around Emily, his hand on her shoulder as he guides her into the daycare centre. It was the best one in the state, something that made him feel infinitely better about leaving his little girl here, and mercifully close to work. He knew this was one of the occasions when he had to be the strong one. All of Emily’s nerves and doubts, things that she only let him see, were just beneath her skin, her whole body vibrating with them if he looked close enough. He could push his own feelings down so he could assure her that everything would be fine, that their daughter would spend her day with people trained to look after her.

He smiles as the daycare director approaches them. They’d met her, a kind woman called Jane Martin, once when they came to register Lily. There was an air of reassurance to her, something that seemed unflappable, but Aaron knew that would do nothing to help his wife through the next few minutes.

“Mr and Mrs Hotchner,” Jane says, her smile wide as she walks over, “It’s so lovely to see you,” she turns her attention to Lily, the baby still snuggled in her mother’s arms, “And hello Lily, you somehow got even prettier than the last time I saw you.”

In any other circumstances, Aaron is sure he’d laugh at how his wife holds Lily even tighter, an unnecessary defence mechanism towards the woman they were paying to look after her. He knows now isn’t the time and he clears his throat to cover it, passing the diaper bag over to Jane.

“She ate about 45 minutes ago,” he says, returning his hand to his wife’s lower back, his palm warm through her shirt, “And we’ve labelled the milk up as you instructed.”

Jane nods as she hangs the bag over her shoulder, “I’ll make sure it all gets put in the fridge,” she says, turning back to look at Emily, who was still holding Lily as if she was going to be snatched from her. Jane’s smile turns sympathetic, and Aaron is sure this is something she sees on a daily basis, “Well Lily,” she says, stepping closer, “I think Mommy and Daddy need to go to work.”

There’s a moment of silence, and Emily feels her throat go dry, her heartbeat loud in her head. It was ridiculous, a pull she didn’t understand, but all she wanted to do was run out the front door and take her baby with her. She knew she needed to do this, that her work was part of who she was, part that she had missed in the last few months, but right now, the part of her that wanted to keep her daughter with her at all times was threatening to win out.

“Sweetheart?”

Aaron’s voice and the way his touch on her back gets more insistence draws her back into the moment, and she clears her throat and nods. She tilts her head down to look at Lily, her heart seizing in her chest as her little girl smiles at her. She kisses her forehead and then her cheek, breathing her in like it wouldn’t be a matter of hours until she sees her again.

“Mommy loves you very much,” she says, her lips still pressed against her daughter’s soft cheek, “And I’ll be back to pick you up later, okay?” She kisses her again and pulls back, her lips shaking as she smiles, “I love you.”

Aaron smiles at the sight of them together, something he could never tire of, and his eyebrows start to furrow as he realises his wife is making absolutely no attempt to hand the baby over to either him or Jane. He clears his throat, getting his wife’s attention, “Em-”

“I think you’re going to have to take her from me,” she says, her voice cracking slightly, a sure sign she would lose control of her emotions the second they stepped out into the parking lot, “I…I can’t let go.”

He nods, briefly squeezing her hip to let her know he understood, and then he reaches for Lily, “Come here Lily-pad,” he says, noting the distinct lack of his wife’s chastisement that usually followed his use of the nickname she hates. He takes a moment to hold Lily close, to press a kiss to her cheek, his heart clenching in his chest as she giggles, one of his favourite sounds in the world, “Daddy loves you too, and I’ll be home as soon as I can.”

He smiles at Jane as he passes Lily to her, his fingers twitching to take her back as soon as she’s no longer in his embrace. Instead, he wraps his arm around his wife, holding her slightly tighter than he usually would in a public setting just in case she tried to bolt.

“You have our numbers if you need anything,” Emily says, her eyes fixed on her daughter as she speaks to Jane, “I’ll just be a few miles away, I can come any time.”

Jane nods patiently, once again obviously very used to this, to the difficulty parents had in letting go, and she smiles, “Of course Mrs Hotchner,” she shifts Lily so she’s facing them a little better, holding her tiny wrist up and helping her wave at her parents, “Say bye bye Lily.”

Emily and Aaron say goodbye simultaneously and she feels rooted to the spot until Aaron starts to turn her, his hand gentle but firm on her as he guides her back into the parking lot. As soon as the door is closed, as soon as they are alone, she wraps her arms around him tightly, sinking into the comfort he willingly gives her.

“She’ll be fine, baby,” he assures her, stamping a kiss to the side of her head as he runs a hand up and down her back, “We picked this place because it’s the best, remember?”

She nods against him and sniffs. She pulls back and wipes a stray tear from her cheek, shaking her head at herself as she does so, “I feel ridiculous for crying,” she says, an edge of frustration in her voice. She looks back into the building but she can’t see Lily anymore and she blows out a breath, “It’s stupid but I miss her already.”

“It isn’t ridiculous or stupid,” he assures her, wiping a tear from her cheek as he cups it to make her look at him, “I feel the same way. Do you want to know why?” He asks and she nods, drawing a small smile out of him, “It’s because we’re her parents.”

She chuckles humourlessly, “Does it get any easier?”

Even though she missed Jack whenever he wasn’t around, this felt different. It had always been a part of her relationship with the boy she loved as her own - saying hello and then see you soon, something she was used to. She’d never been separated from Lily for more than a couple of hours at most, and she’d missed her every second.

“No,” Aaron says, wiping another tear from her face, smiling when she frowns at him, “It doesn’t.”

She scoffs, “You couldn’t lie to me?”

He leans in and presses a kiss to her lips, “Never have, never will.”

She hums and leans into him, wrapping her arms around his middle as she rests her cheek against his jacket, any usual concerns about getting make up on his suit nowhere to be found.

“Tell me something good?”

He smiles and cups the back of her head, his fingers tangled in hair she still complained was too short, “In a few hours you’ll go pick her up and you’ll be able to tell her all about how amazing your first day at work was, and how her mommy is a superhero.”

She pulls back and smiles at him, biting on the inside of her cheek in an attempt to contain it, “You’re sweet,” she checks the time on her watch over his shoulder, “And you’re also late.”

He kisses her again, “You’re sure you’re okay?”

She nods, even though she’s not sure, and she kisses him before she pulls back, “I’ll be fine,” she says as she steps towards her car, “Be safe. I love you.”

“Love you too,” he replies, digging his keys out of his pocket, “Let me know how your first day goes.”

She winks at him and blows him a kiss as she gets into her car. She pulls the door closed behind her and spots the empty car seat in her rearview mirror. She closes her eyes and gives herself a moment, blowing out a slow steady breath as she tries to force herself from the mindset she’d been in for weeks into the one she’d had for years.

She opens her eyes and looks at the car seat’s reflection again before meeting her own eyes in the mirror. She was Emily Hotchner, wife and mother, and she had to remember how to be Emily Prentiss, FBI Special Agent all over again.

She just hoped the day would come when she’d be able to feel like both without feeling like she was failing at one of them.

___

Emily is torn from sleep by a familiar sound, her daughter’s cries waking her up what felt like mere minutes after she’d finally drifted off. She struggled to sleep without Aaron next to her, the warmth of his body, the safety of his embrace, allowing her to relax and rest in ways she would have once thought impossible. She missed him when he was away on cases, the luxury they’d once had of always being together when she was still on the team something that was in the past.

Her first day back at work had been good. It felt strange to be part of a new team, to get to know people whose faces she’d seen before around the office but had never spoken to more than polite conversation in the kitchen or elevator. She felt out of sorts and out of practice, trying to balance proving her worth, something her language skills had done almost immediately like when she joined the BAU, and pumping milk in the bathroom before her breasts felt like they were going to explode.

The relief she’d felt at the end of the day when she’d picked Lily up was palpable. A tightness in her chest that had only loosened the second she saw her little girl, when she held her in her arms. Aaron had called at the time he knew they’d be getting home even though he was busy with work trying to pin down a spree killer in the midwest.

Emily groans as she sits up, blearily rubbing her eyes as she looks at the time, noting it had only been about 90 minutes since she’d last checked it. She smiles at Lily as she leans over the bassinet and picks her up, shushing the infant by instinct, her lips against her forehead as she settles back onto the bed with her daughter on her chest.

“Mommy’s got you, sweet girl,” she says, whispering even though it was only the two of them in the house, both of them now awake despite the unsociable hour, “What’s wrong, huh?” Lily continues to cry, one of her tiny fists in her mouth as she turns her head towards Emily’s chest. Emily chuckles softly as she adjusts her hold on the baby, unbuttoning her pyjama shirt so she can start to feed her daughter, “Daddy always says you’re like me,” she says, shifting Lily so latches on, the sensation, although still painful at times, was something Emily was used to now, the strangeness that had once existed with it long gone, “But he’s always hungry just like you,” she says, stroking Lily’s cheek, “And you both have a thing for my breasts.”

She leans back against the headrest and lets out a yawn, her eyes fixed on her daughter as she eats. When it was just the two of them like this she couldn’t help but wonder about what it was like when she was as young as Lily. If her mother had woken up in the night with her, or if the nannies Emily remembered from her earliest memories had always been around. There were so many gaps in her knowledge of when she was a baby, questions she’d never been able to ask her mother, their relationship not one that allowed for queries about whether she’d been breastfed or not, whether she’d been fussy or slept through the night. It was hard to imagine either of her parents getting up with her, impossible to picture them exhausted as the baby who turned out to be their only child kept them up all night.

She couldn’t picture them looking at her the way she looked at Lily, awe and love and adoration seeping out of every pore no matter the time of day or night.

She knew her parents loved her, that there must have been joy somewhere along the line. Excitement when they realised they were having a baby, relief when she was born safely despite her slightly early arrival, but that knowledge made everything worse. They’d both chosen something else over her, whether it be a new life completely or alcohol, and she couldn’t imagine ever doing that with Lily or Jack, or any other children that she may have. They would always be her priority, and she would spend her whole life making sure they knew that.

Emily sighs as she feels the guilt from that morning return, the burning feeling in her chest she was sure she would get used to. A phantom sensation she’d only ever realise was there when she paid attention to it.

“Mommy loves you so much,” she says, smiling at the sight of an increasingly sleepy Lily, the baby milk drunk as she pulls away from her mother’s chest, seemingly full for now. Emily lifts her so she's against her shoulder, gently patting her back as she kisses her temple, “I hope you never doubt that for a second.”

She smiles as her response is a burp, and she kisses Lily’s temple again before she sits up, placing her back in her bassinet. Emily yawns as she re-buttons her pyjama shirt unevenly, not caring enough to start again, and she lays back down. Her phone vibrates and she picks it up, squinting at the bright light as she reads a text from her husband on the screen.

Hope you are asleep. We got the unsub, I should be home with you by morning. Love you.

She smiles as she types out a quick response, locking her phone and placing it down on the nightstand before she snuggles back into the covers, breathing in the scent of her and her husband on their sheets.

Love you too. If you wake our daughter up when you open the front door we’re never having sex again.

-x-

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sequinsmile-x · 1 year ago

Text

Stained Glass Windows - Chapter Forty Two

Life was complicated, but they wouldn't have it any other way.

-x-

Hi friends <3

Hope you are all okay. Thank you so much for your continued love of this version of them, it means the world. Lily might be here now, but I still have so much of their story to tell <3

I hope you enjoy this chapter, and I am excited to know what you think!

Happy Sunday!

-x-

Words: 3k

A full list of warnings for the fic can be found on the Series Master List and will be updated as we go along.

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

Emily had always hated hospitals.

When she was young, only a couple of years older than Jack was now, she’d sprained her wrist. They had just arrived in Paris, and she’d fallen over whilst running around on the hardwood floors, her socks not giving her the grip she needed as her father chased her, both of them laughing as Elizabeth rolled her eyes. When Emily fell, her little hand reaching out towards the ground in a last-ditch attempt to stop herself, her father picked her up immediately, soothing her as she cried, not able to bear anyone even touching her wrist.

Elizabeth had not gone to the hospital with them. Her glare aimed towards her husband as she said she had work to do, and that it was his fault Emily was hurt.

Her memories of all were hazy, everything seeming so big and scary as she leant against her father, desperately wishing her mother was with her, whilst everyone around her spoke in a language she didn't yet know. She was sent home with a soft splint on her arm and a new hatred for something that had never entirely gone away.

When she had her surgery to donate some of her liver to her mother, she left the hospital a couple of days before the doctors wanted her to. She happily signed the forms agreeing she was leaving against medical advice, ignoring the pull in her abdomen as she packed her bag and the nausea that took days to shift. The thought of being just down the hall from her mother, of being so close when the emotional distance had never felt so substantial, was too much to bear.

She wanted to do the same now, to go and recover in the comfort of her own bed. To see her husband all the time, and not just during the allotted visiting hours as she had the last three days. She wanted to take her daughter home.

If it was just her to consider she was sure she’d already have left the hospital, or at the very least tried to convince Aaron to talk to the doctor and nurses for her, but it wasn’t just her.

It never would be again.

No matter how much she was told Lily was okay, that the emergency that had happened in the lead-up to her birth hadn’t caused any damage, the concern lingered under Emily’s skin. She found it difficult to be separated from her daughter. She turned down any offers from the nurses to take Lily to the nursery. She preferred to keep her nearby, even if it meant she wasn’t getting the amount of rest the doctors and Aaron seemed keen on her getting before she went home. The thought of being separated, of not being able to see her little girl, was enough to make her chest get tight, the fear that had spread through her veins as she was being prepared for the surgery she was recovering from making a return any time Lily was out of sight.

She paces her hospital room with Lily in her arms, pleased to finally be wearing her own pjyamas that Aaron had brought in for her, not the scratchy gown she’d worn for the first couple of days. Her doctor had encouraged her to move around, and it just so happened Lily seemed to like it when she was on the move, her cries quieting down whenever Emily gently rocked her and softly sang to her in French. It made Emily smile, her habit of singing to her bump when she was pregnant clearly having paid off.

She looks up as the door opens and she averts her gaze as her nurse, Alice, raises an eyebrow at her.

“I was told I couldn’t carry anything heavier than her,” she says, patting Lily’s back, “She’s lighter than my cat for god’s sake.”

“That wasn’t my concern,” Alice says, nodding past her to the little paper cup with her pain medication still in it on the side table, “You didn’t take your painkillers.”

Emily clears her throat and adjusts her hold on Lily, internally berating herself as it makes her wince, pain from her incision lancing up her abdomen, “I don’t need them.”

Alice hums and walks over, gently taking Lily from Emily, “Let’s have a little look at how Miss Lily is doing,” she says, resting the baby in her bassinet so she can do her usual checks on her. Emily lowers herself onto the bed, her hand pressing into her belly as she does so, the pain making her screw her eyes tightly closed, “You really should take the medication.”

Emily groans, opening her eyes and looking over at the nurse, “I’m fine,” she says again, not sure she believes it herself, and she looks at Lily, smiling as she sees her shifting about, her limbs moving in short, sharp movements as Alice checks her over, “Is she okay?”

Alice smiles and nods as she wraps Lily back up in her blanket, “She is perfectly fine,” she says, turning back to look at Emily, “Unlike her Mom who had major surgery three days ago and is refusing to take painkillers.”

She sighs and reaches over to the bassinet, smiling as Lily’s tiny fist wrapped around her baby finger, the tight grip soothing the anxiety that had been building in her chest.

“I’d just…rather go without them if I can,” she says, swallowing thickly, avoiding Alice’s gaze as she continues to stare at Lily. She looks up and the understanding look on the other woman’s face, combined with the pain she was struggling to ignore, makes her say the part she’d never said out loud, “Addiction…is a bit of an issue in my family,” she says, biting the inside of her cheek to stop herself from crying, looking back down at Lily, “My mother she…” she clears her throat again and shakes her head, lifting the hand that wasn’t next to Lily to wipe a stray tear from her cheek, “Anyway, I’ve always been hesitant with taking anything stronger than Tylenol once a month when I get cramps.”

It was something she’d struggled with whenever she’d been prescribed painkillers over the years, bright orange bottles that stared back at her, the pills and her future visible through the coloured plastic. Her transformation into her mother both her greatest fear and what she’d once thought was inevitable. It meant she’d always shoved the bottles to the back of the medicine cabinet, or returned them to the pharmacy unused, smiling in the way she’d been taught to as a child as she ignored the confusion from the pharmacist at the sight of the unbroken seal.

It was a concern she’d only ever shared with Aaron before, something she knew she wouldn’t be sharing with Alice if it wasn’t for the hormones she was still completely at the mercy of, and he understood. He shared the same fears because of his father, and she’d had to convince him to take painkillers after he was attacked by Foyet.

“What we’ve got you on is a very low dose,” Alice says, putting Emily’s glass of water in her hand, “And you need it so you can recover quicker and look after that precious little girl of yours.”

“She’s right you know.”

Emily rolls her eyes at the sound of her husband’s voice and looks over to the doorway to see him standing there, a soft smile on his face.

“Hi, honey,” she says, her voice overly sweet, a warning sign that he’d become familiar with during the last few weeks of her pregnancy.

“Hi sweetheart,” he says as he walks over and drops a kiss on her forehead before turning to look at Lily, lifting the tiny baby up into his arms, “How are my girls doing?”

“Lily passed her checks with flying colours,” Alice says, heading towards the door, “Your wife, however, could do with some convincing to take her painkillers.”

Emily narrows her eyes as Alice leaves the room, muttering under her breath as Aaron sits on the bed next to her, “Just when I was starting to like her.”

Aaron chuckles and presses a kiss to her temple, “You should take your medication, baby.”

She sighs and rests her head on his shoulder, tilting her head so she’s looking down at Lily, reaching out to run her knuckle over the newborn’s soft cheek.

“I know. I just…” she drifts off, the vulnerability that was as overwhelming as her exhaustion thrumming under her skin stopping her from putting it into words.

“I know,” he says, not needing her to say it. He knew her better than she did sometimes, and she was sure now was one of those moments. She was awash with hormones and was exhausted from having a baby, her usual ability to compartmentalise left somewhere back in her second trimester when she used to be able to control her emotions, “I know, Em,” he says, smiling at her as he looks up from Lily, “But you need to look after yourself so you can look after her.”

It’s a dirty trick and they both know it, her need to look after the people she loves well known to override any sense of self-preservation. He knows if it was just her, if she was in the hospital because of an injury she’d got on a case, he would struggle to get her to take anything. She glares at him for a second before she reaches for the paper cup with the medication and the glass of water, taking them with little fanfare.

“Clever,” she mutters as she puts the glass back down and raises an eyebrow at him when he smiles.

“I thought so,” he says, winking at her before his attention is pulled down to Lily who starts to cry, “You’re okay princess,” he says softly, rocking her slightly, “You want Mommy?”

Emily smiles as he passes Lily over, love blooming in her chest as she takes her into her arms, the fact she was someone's mom now, that she had a little girl, still somewhat settling in.

“Hi, sweet girl,” Emily says, smiling as Lily settles down slightly as soon as she’s in her arms, a small sense of pride washing over her, “Do you think we can convince Daddy to break us out of here early?”

Aaron chuckles and kisses her cheek, his arm looped around her shoulders as he pulls them in closer, “Not a chance.”

___

Two days later, she sighs in relief as Aaron pulls the car into the driveway, wincing as the car comes to a stop, the jolting of the vehicle making her groan.

“Sorry, sweetheart,” he says as he stops the car, his eyes meeting hers in the rear-view mirror. She’d insisted on riding in the back of the car with Lily, her hand on the car seat the entire journey. Aaron had driven slower than she’d ever known him to, something he’d attributed to having ‘precious cargo’ in the back of the car.

“That’s ok,” she says, her voice strained, the drive more difficult on her than she thought it would be, “Can you get her?” She asks as she undoes her seatbelt, groaning as she pushes the door open, “Even I think picking her up in the car seat is probably a bit of a stretch right now.”

“Of course,” he replies, getting out of the car and doing as she’s asked, unhooking Lily’s car seat and smiling as he lifts it up. Lily was fast asleep, her lips in a small pout that reminded him of how looked when she slept, and he makes a mental note that the car seemed to be something that relaxed her, the exact opposite of what it had done for Jack when he was this small. He closes the car door, and is only partially surprised when he finds his wife already at the stairs of the porch, her hand on one of the bannisters as she prepares herself to take the first step, “Sweetheart, let me help you.”

He makes it to her side quickly, leaving her bags in the car to collect later, hopefully when he’s convinced her to take a nap, and he doesn’t miss how she rolls her eyes at him.

“Aaron, I’m fine,” she says, purposely ignoring how the short journey from the car to the house had made her slightly breathless, her grip on the bannister giving away the discomfort she was in. He knew she’d weaned herself off of most of her medication already, now only really taking it when it was time to try to get some sleep. He knew it was important to her, so he didn’t want to argue with her on it, instead settling on simply helping her where he could.

“I know you are,” he says, not acknowledging the way she glares at him in response as he loops his arm around her and places the hand not holding Lily’s car seat on her hip, “But think about it this way, you’ll be doing me a favour.”

She narrows her eyes at him, leaning slightly into him without realising she was doing it, “What do you mean?”

“Well,” he says, attempting nonchalance, “This way I get to hold both my girls as we walk Lily into the house at the same time.”

She knows it’s nonsense, just like she knows she realistically cannot take the stairs herself without his support, but she loves him for it. Loves that he knows her well enough to not outright tell her she was being stubborn, but offering her an alternative instead.

“Well,” she says, finally resting more of her weight on his side, one of her arms snaking around his back, “Who am I to deny you that?”

He smiles and kisses her forehead before he attempts to walk up the stairs, “Ready?”

“Wait,” she says, gripping his hip and stopping him, “I’m not about to walk into a house full of people am I?” She asks, frowning at the thought of it, “Pen kept texting me about a welcome home party and-”

“I very firmly reminded her of what happened last time she crossed boundaries,” he assures her, one of the corners of his lips turning upwards as he thinks of the conversation he’d had with their friends just the day before when he confirmed Emily and Lily were coming home but wouldn’t immediately be up to visitors. They were disappointed, Penelope visibly more so than the others, but understood, “I told them when you’re ready, we’ll let them know.”

She nods, breathing out a deep sigh of relief as she leans in and kisses him, “Let’s go inside,” she says, looking around him at a still-sleeping Lily in her car seat, “It’s too warm out here for her.”

Aaron helps her up the stairs at her pace, not saying anything when she grips at him with enough force to wrinkle his polo shirt as they finally make it to the front door. He briefly places the car seat down on the porch and digs out his keys. He unlocks the door and picks up Lily again, guiding Emily into the house with his hand at the small of her back.

They walk to the kitchen and as soon as he has placed the car seat on the counter Emily is unbuckling Lily, smiling contentedly as she lifts her into her arms, holding her against her chest.

“Welcome home, Lily,” Emily says, smiling at him as he walks the few paces towards them, careful as he wraps his arms around them, well aware of Emily’s residual pain and just how delicate and small Lily seemed.

“Welcome home,” Aaron repeats, kissing Emily’s cheek to hide how his words catch in his throat. He cups the back of Lily’s head, content to let himself be relaxed by the familiar scent of his wife’s shampoo and the way she seemed to already be wearing motherhood like a fine perfume. A natural to it like he knew she would be, something he knew he’d have to reassure her of in the days to come when the realities of having a newborn in the house would settle in.

They hear a distant meow in the house, followed by a familiar pitter-patter of paws on the hardwood, and Emily chuckles, disconnecting herself from Aaron as she heads to the living room where she knows she’ll find Sergio.

“Come on, sweet girl,” she says, walking slowly to the living room, closely followed by Aaron, “Now you’re home it’s fine for you to meet your best friend.”

He looks around, his eyes falling on photos they kept on the wall, and the gaps he knew would be filled with pictures of Lily, of the adventures they were all yet to share. The house covered in memories that Emily was insistent on displaying, an overcorrection of sorts of growing up somewhere where her photos had been limited to her mother’s office, as if her pride in her daughter was something to hide.

He joins them in the living room, and the sight he is greeted with eases something deep in his gut. The house had been far too quiet when he’d been there the last few days. The usual life that ran throughout it, that made everything brighter, was nowhere to be found without Emily or his children. It was only now, with Emily and Lily home safe, that he could finally relax. The fear that had overwhelmed him ever since they told them Lily was at risk during labour, the fear he hadn’t yet let himself fully feel, fades away. Pushed into a box he knows will open one day, but for now, he lets the joy override it. The sight of Emily holding Lily close and gently murmuring into her skin, Sergio standing on the back of the couch and sniffing the air curiously, unsure about the new person in his home, the balm Aaron had needed for days.

This house wasn’t his home, they were, and he didn’t know what he would have done if he’d lost them.

-x-

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