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oneshotnewbie · 5 months ago

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Can you write me a fanfic where Emily Prentiss asks why Reader never talks about her family and Reader tells her. Emily is just sitting there, keeping you in her arms and not saying anything because she doesn't know what to say?

Authors note: I changed your request a little to fit my story. I hope that's okay. Other than that, not really well written because I was in a rush. Sorry!

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The tension lifted from the air in the Behavioral Analysis Unit and a feeling of relief flowed through the entire team as they had once again successfully solved a case that had threatened the life of an innocent child.

Dr. Spencer Reid was already back at his desk full of documents, his eyes focused on the pages in front of him. His fingers glided over the keyboard of his laptop as he checked the final details of the report. Next to him sat Penelope Garcia, also typing on her keyboard with flying fingers, reconciling the final technical details of the case in order to complete her report as well.

At the other end of the room sat Special Agent Derek Morgan, his demeanor calm and collected as a soft clink of metal on metal rang out as he disassembled his weapon and cleaned it. Beside him stood Emily Prentiss, watching Derek with her arms folded and a thoughtful expression on her face.

As the team tried to calm down and recover from the adrenaline, Jennifer Jareau returned to the room, followed by a couple with immediate quick steps. A bright smile graced her face as she approached the team. "They're here," the blonde said quietly, her voice filled with joy and relief.

All eyes immediately turned to the couple standing next to JJ. They were the parents of the missing child who the team had successfully found and rescued as part of their case. The worry and fear of the past few days had left deep marks on their faces, but now that they knew their child was safe, you could practically feel the pain and worry falling from their shoulders.

The child, a little boy, slept peacefully in David Rossi's arms and when he got up and gently placed the boy in their arms, his father immediately patted his small head protectively. "Here he is, safe and sound." he spoke, his voice filled with warmth and compassion as he watched the parents hug their child tightly as if they never wanted to let him go, tears of joy streaming down their cheeks. The terrible hours of waiting seemed to slip away.

The parents couldn't hold back their tears as they hugged their child tightly and their hearts seemed to burst with happiness. A feeling of gratitude filled the room as the couple lovingly embraced each other, holding on to their found happiness.

But as the happy family embraced and the team watched the happy reunion, Emily wondered where you were. After all, you were the one who fought with the kidnapper and had to suffer some injuries yourself to free the child from his clutches. Only when she turned her gaze up to the bridge, where you were standing at the railing, leaning on it with your arms to observe the situation from a distance, did she see your dull eyes, full of emotion, looking at the heartbreaking scene with a thoughtful expression.

In the years you had already spent with the BAU, you had witnessed countless moments like this - happy reunions of families threatened by evil. But this time you were already very withdrawn and distant at the beginning of this case.

She didn't know that your thoughts drifted to your own parents - parents who had never felt the joy and happiness of being able to hold their children in their arms. There was a hint of deep sadness in your eyes. Although you were genuinely happy for the child's well-being, you couldn't help but think about your own parents.

They were trapped in the bonds and destructive power of violence. For them there were no happy reunions, only endless days of suffering and despair.

As you watched the happy family, you felt an unquenchable emptiness inside you. You missed the carefree and love of an intact family, but you knew that breaking away from your parents to protect yourself was the right decision. Even though you longed for a hug, for the words of love and comfort you never received, your life was characterized by loneliness and past pain, by the constant search for recognition and affection that was denied you in your childhood and youth.

Emily couldn't look away from your gaze, couldn't ignore the bitter smile that crossed your lips and the tears forming in your eyes as you forced yourself to push away your thoughts and focus on the present.

With a soft sigh, she walked away from the scene and made her way to you. Thoughts swirled in her head as she thought about how to start the conversation. She finally reached you and stopped next to you. "How is your pain?" She asked softly, her eyes trained on you as you received it with a surprising look.

You hesitated for a moment, clearing your throat and quickly wiping the tears from your eyes as you repositioned yourself before answering. "It's bearable. Thanks for asking."

But Emily Prentiss wasn't going to be brushed off so easily. She could see that something was bothering you and she desperately wants to help you if she could. "If you want to talk, I'm here for you. You know that." You looked down, reflecting a mix of gratitude and surprise in your teary eyes. "It's nothing," you murmured quietly, but Emily could sense that there was more than you wanted to reveal.

"May I ask you something?" She asked and a moment of silence fell between you as she turned her body towards you, moving closer to you. You nodded, switching your gaze between the event below and her eyes. "Why don't you ever talk about your family?"

Your eyes widened at the question and a soft sigh escaped your lips, thoughts of your own past and the decisions you had made pushing their way back to the forefront once more. She had caught you in the act, used her skills to see through you. "Family stops becoming family the second they shatter your heart and leave you to pick up the pieces without an apology." You finally confessed and she nodded in understanding.

"Family can be complicated. But you don't have to struggle with it alone. You can trust me, I'm here for you." She spoke and you took a deep breath before starting to tell your story. "I am grieving people who are still alive, Em," you began, starting with your childhood, talking about the challenges you had with your parents and how you ultimately cut off contact with them because it became too stressful. It was an act of self-preservation, but it also left a deep void in your life. "Family betrayed me so badly, I had no choice but to cut contact. They had forced me to step on eggshells, wounding my skin simply to keep the peace."

As you spoke, she listened intently, her eyes full of compassion and understanding. She could feel the pain and uncertainty that lay behind your words, and Emily felt honored that she had earned your trust far beyond the one you already gave her.

When you finished, she placed a gentle hand on your bandaged forearm and smiled warmly. "Thank you for telling me that. You're stronger than you think, and you're not alone. We're a family here, and we'll always stand up for you."

You felt a wave of relief wash over you as you listened to her words. You felt understood and accepted, and that meant much more to you than you could have ever expressed.

"Rossi once told me that he sees you as the daughter he never had. Spencer talks about you like you're his sister and Morgan protects you like a big brother," Emily began with a hint of tenderness in her voice. "JJ is like a mother, always checking on you if you're eating enough and cares for you when you get hurt. And you don't have to ask me, I would run through fire for you because I love you. No matter what happens, we're here for you."

A warm smile spread across your face as you fell into her open arms and hugged her. "Thank you for being there for me."

And in that moment, you felt like a weight had been lifted from your shoulders and you knew that you had found a family - not only in the team, but also in the warm and sensitive soul of Emily. Maybe your past would stay with you for a long time, but if you continued to be with your family, it was worth any fight to finally put the past to rest.

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oneshotnewbie · 5 months ago

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So when exactly are you going to be posting stories again…?

Authors note: This idea came to me at work—don’t ask me how, because even I’m not sure. All I knew was that I had to write it down to clear some space in my mind. If you like this, don't hope for a sequel because it was really just a short scene that played out in my head.

Oh, and for next time… When you want something from someone, you should ask a little more friendly. But you're welcome.

Trigger warning for sickness / leukemia

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The blood made a shocking first impression, that much was certain. It clung to Olivia Benson's chin, trailed in smeared lines down her neck, and had turned the once pristine white blouse into a chaotic pattern of red and dark brown. The blotchy drops and streaks spread everywhere her head had touched - including her hands, which still bore witness to her frantic attempts to wipe the mess away. But each attempt had been futile, leaving only more traces and smearing the blood in irregular patterns.

Olivia had found no time to address the damage, neither with an improvised first aid attempt like a dissolved Aspirin nor with a quick change of clothes. The urgency of the situation left her no choice; she had to act immediately. So, without another glance in the mirror, she had gotten into her car and taken the roads to Midtown Manhattan. The sharp, metallic smell of blood mixed with the adrenaline pulsing through her veins, reminding her of the urgency of the mission that had brought her there. Every breath seemed to remind her further of the marks that what had happened had left on her body and in her memory.

Right now, Olivia felt as if time was slipping through her fingers. Every second that passed reinforced the feeling that she would never have room for everyday things again. How could she, while her daughter was leaving her life far too young behind, seemingly on the fast track to death? Reality threatened to crush her, and yet she had to find a way out.

"There has to be a way?" she heard her own voice whisper, as if the words weren't really hers. They came out like severed, brittle pieces - rough, unpolished and somehow out of place. Her throat felt dry, and every attempt to speak seemed like pushing shards of glass across sandpaper. The harshness of the situation was reflected in the hardness of the wooden chair she was sitting on. Leaning forward, like a hostage in a scenario where every moment pointed to the inevitable - the SWAT team breaking in or the end without a rescuer.

The man on the other side of the desk looked at her, his bulky body in the sterile uniform of the office. He seemed out of place in his formal outfit, like a bouncer forced into a tuxedo - a strange mix of comic and intimidating presence. "I don't know how," he replied in a rough voice, his eyes cold and unmoving. The pencil he was drumming rhythmically on a file in front of him almost disappeared in his huge hands, like a thin toothpick between two enormous boulders.

Since her usual contact had retired, Brandon Lurch was now her contact at the adoption agency. He was so different from the woman she had dealt with before - angular and aloof, as if he was deliberately building a wall between himself and her. The offices of the Senate Department of Youth and Family were cold and gray, the fluorescent lighting seemed to suck all life out of the rooms.

Up until now they had rarely spoken to each other. Olivia knew little about the man, except that his colleagues called him "Brandy." It was unclear whether this nickname came from his first name or from the dusty brandy bottle behind him on the windowsill, which, unopened, seemed to make a silent promise in this dreary room. Perhaps it was just a decoration, a relic of days gone by, or an unconscious indication that he, like so many in this system, was looking for comfort in dark bottles.

As Olivia tried to process the answer, she felt the tension in her back grow into a dull pain. Her hands gripped the back of the chair so tightly that her knuckles turned white. Every fiber of her body screamed to fight, to force a solution - but the hopelessness loomed like an impenetrable wall of fog. She looked at the massive man, searching for a sign of empathy or understanding in his eyes, but found only the constant, monotonous severity of someone who has been forced to convey hard truths far too often.

"According to the law, adopted children have a right to know who their birth parents are," Olivia explained in a firm voice. She leaned forward and put her hands on the table that separated her from the burly man. Her gaze was determined, and the sharpness in her voice left no doubt that this was not the first time she had had such a confrontation.

"On their eighteenth birthday," Lurch confirmed shortly before leaning forward and taking a deep breath, as if to smash the impending discussion. "Y/n is only fourteen, though," he continued, his deep voice remaining calm, but his eyes flashed with a hint of foreboding as to how the course of this conversation would end. "In addition," he paused briefly, "this is not just a closed adoption where the age limit must be strictly adhered to. It is a secret one. A legally protected procedure.

Olivia pursed her lips, but before she could stop herself, it burst out of her: “I am aware of that.” She clenched her hands into fists, felt the gnarled edges of the table under her fingertips and the unpleasant heat rising inside her. Her words echoed in the room before the meaning of what she had just said hit her like a punch in the stomach. Damn. Graduated from police academy with top marks, captain of the Special Victims Unit - but she apparently hadn't paid attention during the impulse control lesson.

Lurch raised an eyebrow, his expression changing to a mixture of amusement and superiority. “Well,” he began, his voice taking on a condescending undertone, “if you were actually there, then you certainly know that I can't give you any information about Y/n's biological parents. Anonymity was a non-negotiable condition of the adoption.”

Olivia felt her patience being tested more and more. Instinctively, she reached for her badge, a habit that usually calmed her in stressful situations. But today she remembered that she hadn't worn it for two weeks. Her absence from work was painfully noticeable, but old habits don't dissolve as easily as a job or a routine. “There has to be an exception!” she urged, her voice sounding rougher, more desperate.

But Lurch shook his head, and his eyes remained cold. “No. If I tell you names now, I'll be endangering the mother's life.”

Olivia frowned, looking for a starting point that she could use to break through the wall of rules and secrecy. "How could that endanger her life?" she asked, her voice now barely more than a whisper, a hint of disbelief and suppressed anger.

Lurch sighed and seemed to carefully consider his next words. "I'm not allowed to answer that question," he said in a tone that sounded final and irrefutable. "Otherwise you would know..."

"...who gave birth to y/n," Olivia added sarcastically, rolling her eyes. She knew she wouldn't get anywhere this way. It felt like she was talking to a wall. Taking a deep breath and controlling her inner tension, she changed her approach.

"Do you see the blood on me?" Her voice was now quieter, more insistent. She stretched out her hands in front of her, as if she wanted to make the invisible burden of her words and the weight of her worry tangible to the officer. "My daughter is sick! She has leukemia.” She paused to give Lurch time to understand the seriousness of the situation. But his face remained expressionless, professional.

“That is not usually a death sentence,” Olivia continued, her voice trembling. “The odds are good these days, modern medicine is on our side. Most children survive and have a good prospect - but for that she needs a suitable bone marrow donation.” She fought back the tears, forced herself not to lose her composure.

“And maybe there is a chance to find the right donors, with her biological parents.” Her voice almost broke, but she pulled herself together again, stared Lurch straight in the eyes, hoping for a sign of compassion, a spark of humanity. “Do you understand? Without this information, you could take the only chance away from her.“

"The chemotherapy isn't helping her," Olivia began, struggling to keep her composure. Her voice was shaky and filled with despair. "Instead of helping her, it's just making her have nosebleeds all the time. I'm coming straight from home, where I'm looking after her, because there's nothing more they can do for her in the hospital. Unless we find a suitable stem cell donor very, very quickly." She tried to emphasize the urgency in her words, but her voice sounded hollow, as if worrying about her daughter had drained her of strength.

Brandon Lurch looked at her in silence, his stoic face showing no emotion, and Olivia wondered for a moment if he had even heard her correctly. Finally, he nodded almost imperceptibly before raising his eyebrows and asking in a calm tone: "Have you had your blood typed yet?"

For a moment, Olivia thought she had misheard. The question was so unexpected, so absurd in its apparent ignorance, that Olivia felt as if someone had slapped her in the face. Her eyes widened and her lips parted slightly as anger ignited like a flame inside her. She felt the impulse to stand up and throw the chair she was sitting on across the room. "Of course," she snapped, her voice razor sharp. "What do you think?"

That was the very first thing she had done. Not just herself, but everyone she cared about had immediately gotten tested—her family, her friends, her colleagues. No one had been spared. Mouth swabs, blood samples, endless registration forms. They had all signed up for the bone marrow donor registry in the desperate hope of finding a match.

There was nothing she wouldn't do for you. From the moment she first held you as a baby in her arms, she had realized that a love of this intensity was almost painful. You were so small, so vulnerable. Your face was still slightly wrinkled from childbirth, your tiny cheeks puffed out as if you were about to launch into a tirade.

"I will live for you and I will die for you too." Those were the first words she had whispered in your ear as she felt your soft head resting on her shoulder. And for Olivia, those words were not empty phrases, but a promise. An oath that came from deep within her heart. Everyone who knew her knew that she was willing to do anything to keep that promise. Her selflessness was more than a trait - it was a part of her that manifested itself in every fiber of her being. She had proven that time and time again in her life, whether in her duty as a police officer or as a mother.

She would have been willing to donate her entire spinal cord if it meant even the slightest chance. But this time, unlike all the crime victims she had helped in her career, words and her mere presence were not enough. Her love alone was powerless. The reality of medical limitations was ruthless, an enemy that could not be overcome by courage or sacrifice. No one in the world's donor files had yet been a match.

The realization that her limitless devotion alone would not be enough cut like a knife into her heart. This time it was not enough, and that was the worst part - the inadequacy in the face of such need. She was a police officer, she had dedicated a life to protecting the most vulnerable, but here she faced a challenge that she could not fight with courage, willpower, or the gun at her hip.

"Please, Mr. Lurch," Olivia tried desperately to reach the officer, whose demeanor seemed unwavering and almost indifferent. "It's a matter of life and death. I have to find her biological parents."

Lurch slowly raised his head, and his gaze was cold and analytical. "Because you believe that the parents are suitable as stem cell donors?" he asked, without a trace of compassion.

"Yes!" Olivia nodded, her voice trembling with tension. She tried to let the seriousness of her situation speak in her eyes, in her whole demeanor.

Lurch leaned back in his chair and put his fingertips together. "You believe in it?" he repeated, his emphasis on the verb, and his smile was strange, indecipherable. A trace of mockery, perhaps, or just an expression of superiority? Olivia couldn't say for sure, but she felt that he wasn't taking her words seriously, that he was ridiculing the trust she was trying to convey.

A bitter lump formed in her throat and she briefly struggled with herself about whether to continue the discussion. She suspected that she was already fighting a losing battle. The decision about her request to see the files had long been made and nothing she would say now could change Lurch's mind. Nevertheless, she gathered her last strength for one last, pleading request. "Y/n will die if I don't find her biological parents! I just need the names." Her voice was brittle and desperation cut like a knife through the cold silence of the office.

"I'm sorry," the officer replied. The words sounded routine and almost mechanical, as if he were reading them from a guide for difficult conversations. And yet, Olivia could hear that he wasn't really sorry, not really. "As far as I know, it's unlikely that biological parents are suitable as stem cell donors anyway." His voice was calm, almost didactic, as if he were presenting her with an unpleasant but indisputable fact.

Olivia knew he was right - the probability was low, and she was aware of it. But it was the last straw she could grasp to save you. "But there is a chance," she said, her teeth clenched tightly together as her jaw muscles worked beneath the taut skin. "There's a reason why stem cell therapy first looks through the patient's family. That's exactly what I want to do, but I don't know her family." Her voice became more urgent, almost pleading. But Lurch didn't budge.

"Well, I understand that," he said, and a hint of sarcastic regret lingered in his voice. "But I can't do anything for you, Ms. Benson." He paused dramatically to add weight to his words, and then added with a short, barely audible sigh, "Bring me a family court order ordering me to reveal the identity of Y/n's biological parents. Otherwise, my hands are tied."

Only one thought flashed through Olivia's mind: bastard. She felt her hands shaking and the pressure behind her eyes growing. She had to get out of here before she lost control of her tears. She rushed out of the office and slammed the door behind her, the sound echoing down the long hallway. The cold outside, which hit her like a sharp cut, was hardly more bearable than Lurch's frosty goodbye.

Just a few seconds later, on the way to her car, she was overcome with regret. She had lost her temper. As she reached her car, Olivia tried to take a deep breath, but her chest felt tight, as if an invisible band was squeezing it. Damn it, she cursed inwardly. She had accomplished nothing except hardening the fronts and closing the few doors that might have been open to her.

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