#filed » conversations / silence is your loudest scream.

[hcneycakc-blog]

tensions were high. valdez was descending into chaos and, for the first time since her death, aston actually found himself thankful that adelaine could not see the home they had made for their children falling apart. inhaling deeply from the cigarette between his lips, aston rested his back against the tree, watching his surroundings. he couldn’t be too careful now. sure, the savages had made the first move, but things had been calm enough that the fire had shocked him. he had expected retaliation but that? “this town is a fucking mess these days.” the statement is uttered quietly, cigarette hanging loosely from his fingers now. he liked to think aloud, but usually he was alone when that happened. not today, it seemed. “there’s retaliation and then there’s burning a fucking place down and ruining a town event. i’m over telling my kids they don’t have anything to be scared of when they probably fucking do.”

[slowly-writing]

Part of The Family: Civil War

Avengers x Kid!Reader

Part 1

Word Count: 5.2k

Requested by me: ...okay but hear me out. Part of the family, during Civil War.

A/N:  This is pretty angst, but I promise there’s a happy ending. I hope you all enjoy this, I loved diving back into this universe for a bit! I tried to stay as neutral as possible, but you can probably tell who’s side I was on. 

The mission in Logos was not one you wish to remember. It reminds you of the conversation you had with your mom after she got back from Sokovia. Missions like this one are the exact reason she doesn't want you in the field. The fact that you all made it out alive and relatively uninjured is practically a miracle. Sure you’ve got a few broken ribs and your mom for sure has a concussion she keeps denying, but you all walked away. You just want to relax, heal, and forget the whole thing happened.

The news, however, has other ideas. Every channel is playing the explosion on repeat. What is probably the worst moment of your life being played again and again for the world to see. The worst part is the blatant attack they’re throwing towards Wanda. The girl saved your life and the lives of countless others in that crowd. There were casualties and it was tragic, but the things they’re saying are absurd. You’re enhanced too, but you weren’t the one who wasn’t strong enough, so now she’s the monster.

You haven’t seen MJ since you got back, the swarm of paparazzi and news vans outside the tower is far too thick for either of you to break through, but you know she agrees with you, and something tells you you’re going to need that support pretty soon.

“People died and that’s on me,” you hear your father’s voice as you walk up to Wanda’s room.

“That’s on both of us,” she retorts and they both look down solemnly, feeling guilty.

“That’s on hydra. If you don’t want to put the blame where it really belongs, which as I said is on them, then fine. It’s on all of us. We’re a team. This isn’t on just any one of us, we were all there. We all could’ve done something different today and the outcome doesn’t fall on any single person, just like it wouldn’t have if we had done well,” you say firmly as you sit beside your dad on Wanda’s bed.

“This job...we try to save as many people as we can. Sometimes that doesn’t mean everybody. But if we can’t find a way to live with it then next time, maybe nobody gets saved,” your dad says and you nod in agreement. It’s the hardest part, the people you don’t save, but you have to focus on the good parts. If you don’t, the bad will eat you up until there’s no more good at all.

A knock on the door startles all three of you out of your thoughts. You glance up to see Clint standing in the doorway. The look on his face practically screams trouble, and you almost don’t want to know what he’s going to say. “Tony’s back,” he finally says, “and he brought a guest.”

“We know who it is?”

“The secretary of state,” he says stiffly before walking out.

“This…” you look between the two, “can’t be good.”

xxxxx

You glance around the table, your whole family glaring at the accords. At Ross. At each other. You can see the lines being drawn around you and it makes you want to run and hide like the scared kid you feel like at the moment.

Then the bickering starts. Calculations are being run, and people are making arguments. Your dad and Tony being the loudest among the group.

“We may not be perfect but the safest hands are still our own,” your dad argues and Tony’s disagreement is clear.

“If we don’t do this now, it’s gonna be done to us later. That’s the fact and it won’t be pretty,” he says and Wanda tenses.

“You’re saying they’ll come for me,” her voice is barely above a whisper and you speak up for the first time.

“They’ll come for both of us. You’re not the only one with powers that scare them and I don’t know about you but I don’t fancy being locked in a cell until I’m deemed useful,” you grit out and your mom is the next to speak up, but to your surprise it’s not to agree with you.

“Maybe Tony’s right,” she says and all the heads in the room snap towards her. All confused, and none more than you. “If we have one hand on the wheel we can still steer. If we take it off-”

“Aren’t you the same woman who told the government to kiss her ass a few years ago?” Sam asks and she sighs.

“I’m just-I’m reading the terrain. We have made some very public mistakes. We need to win back their trust.”

“I’m sorry did I just mishear you or did you agree with me?” Tony teases and you glare at him.

“Oh I wanna take it back now,” she looks like she’s in pain, and you know the feeling.

“No no you can’t retract it,” as Tony proclaims his victory your dad is the first to leave the room and the team slowly scatters. You stay firmly planted in your seat, your eyes locked on the floor as the words they said sink in. Mainly those of your parents, and they make you sick. Not because of your own view, but of the fact that’s becoming clear. You’re all going to have to pick a side, and they’re not going to be on the same one.

xxxxx

Everyone seemed to be jetting off to different places around the world, having meetings in secret and not telling each other the details of them. You stayed home and tried to ignore it all. You even tried to go to school one day, but the stares and whispers made it impossible to even walk in the front doors. It was like the entire student body froze at the sight of you, so you stayed in the tower with Wanda who couldn’t bring herself to step outside, and occasionally MJ, but only when she could sneak away. Her parents didn’t want her to get mixed up in your mess and you couldn’t really blame them. Peter was always at home. There was no way he could get to the tower without his identity getting revealed and you had a sinking feeling Tony was only telling him one side of the story.

Over the next few weeks things only got messier. Your dad, trying to help, has become a war criminal. Your mom is in Vienna trying to fix everyone’s mess. And with your parents gone you and Wanda are locked in the tower, told by Tony you couldn’t leave for safety reasons. You still couldn’t figure out if he was trying to protect you or protect everyone else from you.  

“Mom, how is everyone?” you ask, propping the phone up so both you and Wanda could be seen on the small screen. You had just seen your dad get arrested on the news and to say you were nervous was an understatement.

“Everything’s going to be fine. Tony and your father are talking right now,” she says, walking towards the conference room, close enough for all three of you to hear their voices.

“I’d file the motion to have you, y/n, and Wanda reinstated-” Tony speaks first.

“What about y/n and Wanda?” Your dad’s voice joins in, and you realize he has no idea what’s happening with you.

“They’re fine, they’re confined to the tower. There’s worse ways to protect people,” Tony tries only to be cut off again.

“Protection? Is that how you see this? This is protection? This is internment Tony-” It’s your dad’s turn to get cut off

“She’s not a US citizen and y/n doesn’t even have a birth certificate. They don’t grant visas to weapons of mass destruction!” Tony screams.

“They’re kids! She’s my kid!” There’s a long silence where all you can hear is your heart beating in your ears. You see your mom look at you, heart break visible on her face, and you know it’s because of the tears pooling in your eyes.

“Girls,” your mom says gently, she’s walking away from the argument, but you can’t take any more.

“I’ve gotta go,” you quickly end the call, walking to the window and staring out at the city. That was the moment you lost all your trust in your family. It’s also the moment you pick a side. Sure, Tony and your dad both have valid arguments, and you haven’t quite decided who is right, but you refuse to fight for someone who just called you and your best friend ‘weapons of mass destruction’. Sure MJ once said it as a joke, but that was different. She never meant it. After all these years, you can’t believe that Tony does. You can’t believe that's what he thinks of you. After the way he’s been there for you and helped raise you, he still thinks of you as a weapon waiting to fall into the wrong hands, and you refuse to side with someone who thinks so little of you.

“We need to go,” you say suddenly.

“And where would you suggest we go?” Wanda asks as you tighten your hands into fists, trying to control the anger you feel bubbling up.

“Anywhere but here! You said it yourself. They’re going to come for us, and I don’t see anyone here trying to help. Staying here and doing nothing we’re sitting ducks. We both know this is gonna come to a fight. So we might as well make our way to them,” you tell here and there’s a long silence until you hear Clint's voice behind you.

“I think I can help with that.”

xxxxx

You watch everyone else pile out of the van and greet your dad, Sam, and who you assume to be Bucky. You take a deep breath before following, standing a bit behind Wanda as Clint talks to the group. Your dad’s eyes meeting yours as he steps away from Clint to meet you.

“I didn’t want it to come to this,” he says and you smile weakly.

“None of us did, and yet here we are. Mom’s not with us on this, is she?” He looks to the floor and you don’t need an answer, the sadness in his eyes is enough.

“We're outside the law on this one, if you do this, you’re a wanted woman,” he says and you nod.

“Ever since I found out about the serum, I promised to do what’s right. I’m not gonna let a little thing like the law stop me now,” he chuckles at your words until an alarm starts going off.

“Suit up,” he calls to the group and with that you all get ready, your dad being the first on the tarmac. You stay back in the shadows to listen while your dad and Tony go back and forth for a while, but your breath catches as your mom steps into the group.

“Steve, you know what’s about to happen. Do you really want to punch your way out of this one?” Before he can answer Tony’s yelling and all the sudden Peter is behind Tony with your dad’s shield in his hand. Tony starts yelling at Steve to give up and for a second you think he’s going to, until you hear Sam’s voice saying they found the quinjet. Then Clint shoots his hands free and you step forward.

“Dad!” you yell, and when he glances back you toss your shield to him. Your mom’s eyes widen as she realises you’re here, and you’re starting to realise how little either of your parents have paid attention to your whereabouts throughout this whole thing. Sure, you’re 17, but you’d think they’d pay a little attention to your wellbeing. But you shake it off. Now isn’t the time to mope, you’re gonna need all your energy to do what you have to do.

The fighting starts and you freeze, realizing how not ready you are for this, you see your mom take out Scott as Rhodey goes for your dad. You get your dad’s shield from where Scott dropped it and watch in horror as your dad throws a truck at your mom, literally. And then, as much as you don’t want to, you follow him towards the quinjet. You’ve made your decision and there’s no going back now.

Tony’s team cuts you off and the two sides line up. It’s all very dramatic and you lock your jaw, trying to stay calm.

“What do we do, dad?” you ask.

“We fight,” he says firmly.

“Well, this is gonna end well,” you hear your mom say from the other line and you silently agree.

Everyone starts running towards each other and you tighten your grip on your shield. You find yourself dodging the cars Wanda throws as you punch a literal king in the face. He comes back strong, the claws of his suit tearing into your arm. You use your shield to knock him back into Clint’s range, and he takes over. You spin around to see who’s alone and see your mother with her gaze locked on you. She runs towards you and you use her momentum against her. You flip her over your shoulder but she quickly recovers kicking the shield from your hands and landing a solid punch to your side.

“I don’t want to do this y/n,” she says and you catch her fist, once again flipping her but this time she lands on her feet.

“And you think I do?” you yell over the chaos and suddenly a red mist encases the foot that was aimed at your chest. Your head snaps to Wanda as she sends your mom flying into a nearby vehicle.

“You were pulling your punches,” she says before running off and you glare after her before turning to Peter and slicing his web with your shield.

“Peter, go home. You don’t understand what’s happening here,” you plead.

“Mr. Stark said you’d say that.” he says before sending more webs flying at you. He grabs you by the ankle, sending you into a luggage cart before chuckling, “he also said to go for your legs.”

He shoots your hands and you use the webs to send him against the same luggage cart. He crumples to the ground and you hesitate for a moment before running the other way.

“We gotta go now,” your dad says and you sigh.

“No, you gotta go. If we’re gonna win this, some of us aren’t getting out of here,” you say, running towards the fight in the middle of the tarmac.

“I’m not leaving here without you. Your my family,” his words break your heart, and you know to get him to leave you’ll have to break his.

“No I’m not. I’m just some kid you felt obligated to help. Hydra screwed with me, it’s not your job to clean it up. Bucky’s always been family. Get him out of here. Who knows, maybe they’ll go easy on me. I am a kid after all.”

“Y/n-” you cut your dad off.

“Steve, go. Bucky you and him need to get to the jet. Scott, you remember that thing you were telling me about on the plane ride here?” you ask and you can practically see the wheels turning in his head, “do that. And try not to split yourself in half. On his signal, everybody move.”

Scott soon grows to a ridiculous height and then all hell really breaks loose. Your only goal is making sure they get to the jet, and trying not to think about what’ll happen to you when they do.

After a bit more fighting you see the jet take off and the dust finally starts to settle. You glance around attempting to see who you can help, but instead you see police all with their eyes set on you and Wanda. You take a step back, trying to find somewhere to run, only to realize you’re surrounded. Slowly putting your hands in the air you kneel down, it’s easy to see you’ve lost and you don’t fight it as the shackles lock around your wrists. They’re hightech, clearly meant to withstand any enhanced ability and you see the same kind being put on Wanda. You glance over to your mom standing across the tarmac, you expect her to yell, tell them to let you go, at least have the decency to look upset. But she just watches as you’re shoved into the back of an armored van.

xxxxx

You look around the cell you’ve found yourself in. Your left wrist is shackled to the wall, apparently they don’t deem the two inch thick bulletproof cell wall enough to keep you restrained. After hours off pulling at the chains, your wrist becoming bloody and raw, you’ve given up on trying to get out of them. You’re still better off than Wanda, who is sitting across from you with a shock collar and a straight jacket. If you didn’t want to kill the people who put you here before, that image was enough to make the impulse arise.

You’re arranged in a circle, able to see the people around you, you may not have known all of them for long, but you know none of them deserve this. After the way you’ve been treated you’re starting to think nobody deserves this, you wouldn’t wish this on the worst Hydra had to offer. As you look at the faces around you, you can’t help but think of their families, how much Clint’s kids must miss him. How Scott’s daughter feels losing her father for a second time. It makes you wonder if your mom has even batted an eye. She sure didn’t seem to care that they carted you away in the first place. You start to wonder if she ever even cared at all, or if it was all some elaborate cover, maybe something set up by Fury to make you willing to work for them. They treated you like family to your face, but conspired against you behind closed doors. You’re reanalyzing every interaction you can remember when the door to the cell block opens.

Tony walks in in a sling and Clint starts clapping “the futurist gentlemen! The futurist is here! He sees all. He knows what’s best for you. Whether you like it or not.”

“Give me a break Barton. I had no idea they’d put you here,” he snaps back and you stand, walking towards the glass only to get yanked back by the chain around your wrist pulling against the wall.

“Well, you knew they’d put us somewhere, Tony,” you grit out. For a second his eyes soften before he’s speaking again.

“Yeah but not some supermax floating ocean pokey. This place is for maniacs this is a place for…” he trails off but Clint finishes for him.

“Criminals? Criminals Tony. Think that’s the word you’re looking for, right? That didn’t used to mean me. Or Sam, or Wanda. Or y/n, the girl YOU helped raise!” Clint yells before his voice drops low again, “but here we are.”

“Because you broke the law,” Tony says. As if that’s all this means. As if it’s all that simple. “I didn’t make you.”

“You better watch your back with this guy!” Clint says, slamming his fist into the cell wall as Tony starts walking around the circle, “there’s a chance he’s gonna break it.”

Tony walks, looking at all of you as if you’re animals in a zoo. He bickers with Scott and then Sam before stopping in front of you. You lock your jaw, ignoring the tears gathering in both of your eyes. “What do you need? Did they feed you yet?”

“Oh so now you’re the good cop? The caring uncle?” you snap, shaking the chain on your wrist, “does it look like we’re getting five star treatment here?”

“I just need to know where Steve went,” he says calmly, and you’ve never wanted to punch somebody more.

“You better go get a bad cop then. Cause I’m not giving up my father.”

“You see that? I just knocked the A out of their AV, we have about 30 seconds before they realize it’s not their equipment,” he says, messing with his watch. “Clearly I made a mistake, y/n. I was wrong.”

“Well that’s a first,” you quip.

“Cap is definitely off the reservation but he’s about to need all the help he can get.”

“Then get me out of here so I can help him,” you grit out, but he shakes his head.

“Y/n, you’ve known me for years. You know who I am,” he tries to argue.

“No I don’t. The Tony I knew never would’ve let them lock us up like this,” you say with a glare.

“I’m trying to help,” He says calmly and you contemplate your options for a minute. You clearly can’t help from in here, and Tony’s telling the truth, right? He has to be, he wouldn’t betray you again. Would he?

“I’ll tell you, but you have to promise he won’t end up in here.”

“I promise,” he says, and you take his word.

xxxxx

“Hey Clint,” you call softly, leaning back against the freezing wall of your cell. You ignore the way you’re shaking, and the way your lips feel cold, undoubtedly starting to turn blue. There may be a bed in here, but they made sure the chain would keep you away from it, not that you’d sleep anyway. You don’t trust them enough to let your guard down like that.

“Yeah, kid?” his voice is just as soft, and he sounds as exhausted as you feel.

“Do you think we’re ever getting out of here?” you hear the sharp intake of breath and everyone in the room is looking at you. Before he can answer the doors open once again. You look down, not ready for whatever is walking though, only to see two familiar sets of shoes stop in front of your cell. You stand quickly, trying to make your way to them but the jerking of the chains snap you back into reality as you stumble back towards the wall. You watch as your parents eyes move to the shackle on your red wrist, dried blood covering your forearm from where you tried to pull out of it.

“Get her out of there,” your dad says, his jaw clenched and Ross steps forward, begrudgingly putting a code into the keypad on the wall. Suddenly everyone’s cell doors slide open, a few guards move to take Wanda’s collar and straight jacket off while one unlocks the shackle on your wrist. As soon it’s off your mom steps forward, presumably to hug you but you flinch away, back slamming against the wall.

“Y/n, it’s okay,” she says, raising her hands slowly as if you’re an animal she doesn’t want to startle.

“Okay?” You snap, “what part of this is okay? The part where we were fighting each other in an airport 36 hours ago? Or the last 24 that I’ve spent in this cell? The chains around my wrist? The collar on Wanda’s neck? Maybe the fact that I haven’t been given food since before Germany. Or the fact that I’m sure I would have passed out from exhaustion by now if I weren’t so scared of what happened if I fell asleep. The part where they tried to torture me for your location? Have you ever been waterboarded before? Because I have, and let me tell you, it’s not fun,” you ask your dad before turning to your mom. “Maybe the part where I had to watch my family fall apart in front of my eyes, or the part where you watched them arrest me and did nothing,” angry tears are welling in your eye for what seems like the hundredth time in the last few days. “None of this is okay.”

There’s a silence in the room as everyone takes in what you’ve said. Your parents are looking around, waiting for someone to disagree with you, tell them you’re exaggerating what’s happened to you, but nobody does.

“You’re right. None of this is okay. What happened is not okay, but we’re leaving now. We’re going to get you all out of here, and we’re going to start making it better,” your mom says gently, her voice cracking. You let her take your hand now, wincing as her fingers brush against your wrist, “we’re going to make this okay.”

xxxxx

Apparently “getting out of here” did not mean going home. It meant cleaning up in the bathroom on the jet and going straight to capitol hill for a special hearing congress was holding to decide whether or not you should be pardoned. You were sitting outside with Wanda because apparently you were allowed to be held captive and tortured for war crimes, but you weren’t allowed to listen in on a congressional hearing until you were eighteen.

“Hey, are you okay?” you ask her, trying to break the silence. You almost regret asking as she starts to shake a bit.

“I will be,” is all she says, silently taking your hand and leaning into your side. You understand the feeling, and the need for comfort. So you sit silently, gripping her hand tightly as you try to relax. The two of you sit for a while longer until you see your parents exiting the meeting room, eyes set on you.

“They want to hear from you.”

“What?” your jaw drops at your mom’s words.

“They want the perspective of someone who knows the team, someone who can understand why we did what we did. They decided that was you,” your dad says and you nod, standing on shaky legs and walking into the courtroom. There’s cameras flashing everywhere and reporters yelling questions. You set your eyes to the front, your mom’s hand on your back pushing you forward until you reach the microphone. You carefully sit in front of it, crossing your hands on the desk to hide how hard they are shaking.

“Please state your name for the record,” the congressman says as the room quiets down.

“Y/n Romanoff-Rogers,” you say into the microphone, wincing at the feedback as you get too close.

“You are here today to speak on why you believe the actions taken after the Sokovia Accords were signed were rational, and why your team should be released from federal custody, free of any and all charges. You may proceed,” he says and you take a deep breath, trying not to think about how badly this could end for you if this goes south.

“I’ve seen the Avengers in a light that no one else truly has. You all get to see the badass superheroes-am I allowed to say badass in court?” you glance at your parents, your mom stifling a laugh as your dad rolls his eyes. “Anyway, you see them save lives. I get more than that. I got to see the side that took in a 12 year old girl, because she had nowhere else to go. They could’ve turned me away, sent me packing. Plenty of other foster homes did, six to be exact. But they took a chance on me and I got to see them as a family. My mom, who sat by my bed all night for the first few weeks that I lived with them, because I had nightmares when I was alone. Who tried as hard as she possibly could to keep me out of the field, even though I could pick up my motorcycle with one hand, because all she wanted was for me to be safe. My dad, who told awful jokes and teased me about the crushes I had. Who was gentle and kind despite being twice my size.

“I got to see the side of Wanda who was a scared teenager, just wanting to fit in like everyone else. Who wanted nothing more than to do right by her family and the people she loved. I got to see them all as people, not heroes. Everyone in that tower just wants to do what’s right and what’s best for everyone, and this time we couldn’t agree. A lot was on the line. Not just a failed mission, or a few injuries to deal with. It was the destruction of everything we’d all worked so hard for. It was jail time in a place I know I’ll be having nightmares about for years to come. The people we were dealing with had no problem sending people to a military black site. Had no problem sending two teenagers there, and torturing them to get what they wanted. And that scared us all, to the point where we were willing to lose everything we had to do what we believed was right. Maybe we were wrong, maybe we weren’t, but there’s no saying the people put in charge would have always been right either.

“Too many of the people on my team know what it’s like to have no say. To be used as a weapon in someone else’s agenda. There was no way any of us could let that happen again, even if it meant losing everything. We broke the law, yes, but historically laws haven't always been right. Mankind has done awful things that were perfectly fine in the eyes of the law. Locking my family away was legal. It doesn’t make any of it right.”

“Thank you, Miss Romanoff-Rogers,” the congressman says before the room is emptied for the voting, and you’re sent home to wait. It all seems very anticlimactic, but if you’re going back to prison, you’re not going to say no to one more night in your own bed first. The ride back to the tower is silent, everyone’s nerves are palpable but nobody is ready to talk about it. You step out of the van to a sea of photographers and people yelling your name, but one shout in particular stands out. You see MJ weaving her way through the crowd and grin as she slams into your arms. You hold her tight for a few moments, before pulling her away and ushering her inside.

“How are you?” she asks once you’re in the elevator, not caring that your family is listening in. You shake your head, letting out a long breath before answering.

“Tired. Stressed. Scared. Exhausted. Glad that you’re here,” you list off and she smiles.

“Considering you said two different versions of being tired, it sounds like the first thing on the agenda is a nap,” she says and you chuckle a bit, the rest of your family nodding in agreement.

“I’d say so. We’ve been awake for, what...two days?”

“Three,” Wanda corrects as you all step out into the common room.

“Yeah, a nap is definitely the move right now,” you grab MJ’s hand leading her towards your room.

“Leave the door open!” your dad calls after you as you flop onto the bed. You roll your eyes, but smile nonetheless. Nothing is back to normal yet. Nothing is fixed. It’s quite the opposite actually. You have relationships to mend, trust that needs to be earned back on both sides, a lot to talk about, and a lot of trauma that needs to be worked through, but laying here with MJ in your arms and your family all back on the same side, it seems like a step in the right direction. 

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[ct7567329]

Wounded: Jesse x Reader

It was just like every other mission. Prior to departure, the boys of the 501st awaited in their barracks for their next orders as the Jedi Generals were debriefed. This was typically a rowdy experience. Arm wresting, sneaking some liquor, listening to music, anything to get their minds off the reality of war that was just moments away. But unlike most times, Jesse found himself sitting on his bunk, leaning against the cold wall, lost in his thoughts.

"You've gotta let it go," Fives groaned, playfully pushing Jesse's shoulder with one hand, a bottle on whiskey in the other.

Jesse rolled his eyes and looked away from his tipsy brother, pretending he wasn't even there.

Fives handed the bottle to Hardcase, "Jesse look, (Y/N) is an amazing girl. But, she's a Jedi. She honors her code. There's so many wonderful girls out there. So many that aren't her. I hate telling you this, I really do, but sometimes, it hurts more to hold on."

Jesse gulped and bowed his head, "It's not that easy."

"You two have a special relationship. She says things to you that she's never said to any of us. You clearly mean a lot to her. I hope that's enough to make you happy," Fives sighed, "Hang in there."

Before Jesse could speak, Rex commanded all the men to the hangar.  It was go time. They all filed into the main hangar awaiting the orders of you and Anakin. You both stood confidently in front of a hologram of the palace in Theed on Naboo. As you began the briefing of the mission, Jesse couldn't help but stare at you through his helmet. You sensed this but continued with the task at hand, pointing to the crucial palace entry ways.

Upon conclusion of the briefing, Fives nudged Jesse and whispered, "Did you even pick up on any of that or were you too busy gawking?". Jesse ignored the statement and made his way to the gunship with the rest of his group, which just so happened to include you.

You spent the majority of the ride sitting down, leaning against the corner, scrolling through miscellaneous battle information on a holopad. The rest of the men were sitting down as well, conversing with each other.

"Hey, you feeling okay?" you asked Jesse, who was sitting next to you.

"Never better," he muttered, biting his lower lip under his helmet.

You weren't buying it, "Well, if you need anything don't hesitate." You sprung up and got ready for landing, leaving Jesse alone with his thoughts.

"It looks like the seppies already started attacking," you announced, "stand by for arrival."

You definitely weren't wrong about that. The gunship doors opened to absolute hell. Shots going in all directions, countless droids, and a droid barrier in front of the palace entrance. Across the landing bay, it was obvious Anakin was distraught about the idea of his wife being stuck inside.

It didn't take long for the 501st to break through the blockade at the entrance, but it was only worse inside. You ordered a split off, with you, Jesse and a few others taking the west wing. You looked over your shoulder and only saw five men. This would never be enough. Your group pushed forward, leaving only seven destroyers to decimate before conquering the wing. One of your men knew what he had to do.

"For the 501st!" he screamed, throwing charges at the destroyers. Knowing how heavy the explosion would be, you fell to the ground and covered your ears. Unfortunately, you were the only one to think to do that. Once the charges exploded, you got up and looked around. All the men were knocked on the ground. Quickly, you approached each solider, ripping off their helmet and taking their pulse.

There were no survivors, until you got to Jesse. You held your breath as you removed his helmet and placed two fingers on his neck. A pulse was there, faint, but there. You picked him up and put him over your shoulder, thanking your Jedi training for providing you with extra upper body strength. Only a few floors up there was a suite which Senator Amidala always let you stay in when on Naboo. You found the nearest elevator and made your way up there, hoping to not run into any droids. To your luck, the elevator doors opened and your hope came true. You hastily made your way to the suite and let yourself in, laying Jesse's limp body on the bed.

Figuring he just had the wind knocked out of him, you began to remove his upper armor to relieve weight off his chest. Starting with his pauldron, and finishing with the gloves. Sighing, you looked at the beaten up ARC. His underlies were dark, heavy, evident of stress. You caressed his cheek, acknowledging how soft it was. Freshly shaved. He would eventually be okay.

"Vaabir nayc chaabar a kebi. Anay kebi Kelir cuyir jate," you softly hummed over and over again, watching his chest slowly rise and fall. You placed a gentle kiss on his forehead and got off the bed,  going to the refresher for a much needed shower.

Upon finishing your shower, you dressed in only undergarments and a short silk robe. It was the only things you could find that were suitable for you. You exited the refresher and went to towards the vanity, beginning to comb through your wet hair.

"General?"

You quickly turned around to see a confused Jesse staring at you.

"What happened?" he asked, shaking slightly. You threw your hair up into a low bun and sat on the edge of the bed.

"There was a pretty bad explosion. Lost everyone, except you. I figured I would bring you here. The Senator usually lends me this room while I'm on Naboo. Didn't want to see anything worse happen to you.

Jesse couldn't help but stare at your glowing skin, watching a single drop of water trail down you arm, "Thank you," he whispered, still in his trance.

"Would you like to freshen up?" you asked, "A warm shower might help you feel better."

He nodded and attempted to get out of the bed, grunting in pain. You rushed to his side and put your arm around his back, "Jesse?"

"I'm sorry General. Just some pain in my back. I've got this," he confirmed, trying to get up again.

"I'll leave some fresh clothes out for you, just holler if you need anything!" you smiled as he hobbled to the refresher.

The second the door locked, you sprung off the edge of the bed and rushed to the mirror. "oh maker," you said under your breath, looking at how disastrous you looked. With one swift motion you took the bun out and combed your hair straight, parting it perfectly in the middle. You dug through the drawers, trying to find anything to make you feel more confident. First,  you found some mens clothing. You put the sweatpants and t shirt next to the refresher door then continued to search for something for yourself. All you could find was a perfume bottle, and dark blue lace under garments. Was this too revealing, absolutely, but it was better than what you had on. You changed and sprayed yourself a few times before sitting back down on the bed, turning something random on on the holovision. Patiently, you sat there and watched until Jesse was finished.

Not too long after you finished up, the water turned off and Jesse opened the door to grab the clothes. When he walked out of the refresher your eyes widened.

"Is something wrong General?" he asked nervously.

You stuttered, "No, but, well, we aren't on the battle field, you can call me (Y/N), but I've just never seen you in civilian clothes. It's so, so different."

Jesse stood there for a moment, silent. "Is that bad or-"

"Oh no. It's actually kind of nice," you interrupted him, "really nice."

Jesse was motionless, standing speechless. "Oh my bad!" you finally let out, getting off the bed and sitting on the nearby futon. "Take the bed, you need it!"

He looked down and walked towards the bed, laying down then sighing, "Do the rest of the men know where we are?"

"Yeah, I let Anakin know what happened and he knows you're here with me. Kix is a little overwhelmed with injuries right now."

"Good," he nodded, wincing in pain.

You noticed the wince and shot up, rushing to his side, "What hurts?"

"My side," he grunted, grabbing his ribs.

"Mind if I take a look?" you asked, pressing your lips together.

"Yeah, go a head," he nodded, taking off his shirt, then laying back down.

Your lips parted as you stared at his bare chest. His extra hours lifting at the gym were evident. You put your hand on his chest and dragged your fingers down to his stomach.

"Gene-(Y/N)?" he asked, confused with what you are doing.

You stopped in your tracks, "Oh right, yes, I am so sorry. I just. Yeah. Lemme take a look at that." Your cheeks flushed pink as you examined his side, realizing he definitely has a broken rib. As you were attending to his wounds, he couldn't help but stare at your robe, which was becoming loose, revealing a portion of cleavage. He swallowed hard, and began to breathe heavy. Jesse was in complete awe that this was actually happening.

"(Y/N)," he finally let out, causing you to direct your attention to his face.

You hummed in response. He tilted his head slightly, looking at you in silence.

"Yes, Jesse?" you whispered, inching closer to him.

His gaze was still locked on your eyes. Yours on his. Not even the loudest explosion in the would could break this.

"What are you thinking," you exhaled, moving closer to him yet again.

"Are you getting closer to me?"

"Perhaps."

"I think I want to k-"

"Me too."

His lips met yours with passion. Your lips fit perfectly upon his. As he deepened the kiss, you laid down on your side, moving your leg over his. His hand ran down your back, resting on your thigh that was thrown over his legs.

Jesse pulled away, looking at the beauty in front of him. He removed his hand from your thigh and placed it on your shoulder, which has been exposed by your robe being pulled down every so slightly.

"I've been wanting to tell you this since the moment I saw you,  but, you are so, so, so, unbelievably stunning," he breathed, smiling at the vision of you.

"I can't tell you how long I've wanted to do this," you smiled back, kissing his chest softly.

With each small motion, your robe fell more and more off your shoulder, revealing much more than Jesse though he would ever see.

His stare of love became evident of agony, trying to prevent the urge of a growing heat between his legs.

You softly laughed and gave him another gentle kiss, "If it's bound to happen, let it happen." You removed the rest of your robe, exposing everything that wasn't covered by the lace.

Jesse could no longer hold it and cupped your cheek, passionately bringing you to his lips.

Though his physical wound may take a while to heal, his broken heart was officially mended.

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Ruined

Request: Hey, I love your work and was wondering if you could do some like plutonic Hotch x teen reader maybe she’s like wears all black and always listening to music and gets into trouble a lot at school, and he needs to look after her for a case and maybe finds out somehow that she’s just really depressed and self harms (if your okay with that) and he doesn’t know what to do so asks the others for help and then gets a call saying she ditched school and he finds her and talks to her and stuff.

Pairing: Plantonic Hotch X Teen Reader

Warnings: Depression, suicidal ideation, Anxiety, Blood, Some gore. Triggering content!!! PLEASE DON'T READ THIS IF IT'S GOING TO TRIGGER YOU!!!!!

AN: Hello lovely people, it’s me your author. Please if you are feeling like this in any way or you feel unsafe. Please seek help. As a human who has had many many mental health struggles (Including one recently) I understand that you don't think it's worth it. And that it won't ever get better. I mean heck, look at me, i’m 21 years old, i’m getting married next year, and I still don't have shit together mentally. But I promise if you hold on things will get better. It might take years but you won't know if you don't try right? So if you are feeling unsafe please contact someone. My inbox is always open. 

~~~~

“Hotch, we got a problem.” JJ’s voice chimes on the other side of the radio.

“What? Is everyone okay?” Hotch adjusts his vest, and watches as the other agents on the team file out of the house. Sandwiched between Morgan and JJ, is a teen girl. Her black hoodie is pulled tight around her body, headphones limply lay around her neck and her face is streaked with tears. They had been called in to help the local police force with a case. Young parents were being murdered in their homes, their children left for dead in the bathrooms. There had been 3 couples killed, along with their kids. Hotch was sure that when they got a call from the neighbor that the child of this couple would also be amongst the bodies that the medical examiners were carting away. 

Hotch stepped forward as JJ and Morgan handed you off to the paramedics, they sit you down in the back of the ambulance and checked you over for injuries as Hotch spoke to the two agents. 

“How is she still alive?” The senior agent glances between them.

“I found her hiding in a crawlspace in the basement, she said her mother heard her father talking to Unsub at the door, when the man pushed his way into the house her mother shoved her down the basement stairs and hid her. She said her mom swore up and down that she was away with some friends for the summer. So the unsub changed his course and only killed them. But Hotch, our profile on this guy makes me think he's not going to stop until he has her too.” JJ explains glancing over his shoulder to look at the girl who is sitting in the back of the ambulance, ignoring the EMT’s questions. 

“Does she have any family?” Hotch asks, turning around, watching as the girl shoves the Emts hands away as he tries to pull up her sleeve. 

“I told you im fine. Please leave me alone.” She yells, reaching up and gripping her hair, as more tears spill down her cheeks.

“They’re in Africa, her Aunt and Uncle are over there, they’re doctors. They are due to arrive back in a few days. I figured she would be safer with us until we catch the Unsub.” Morgan explains as Hotch takes a few steps towards the ambulance. 

“We’ll look after her until they get back.” Hotch crosses his arms across his chest, and walks over to the back of the ambulance. You look up as he walks closer to you, and you cross your arms over your chest, glancing down at your battered shoes. 

“Hello, Im SSA Hotchner, but you can call me Hotch. Can i ask you a few questions?” He takes a seat next to you, and you pull your hoodie closer. 

“I’m Y/N, and sure..” You mumble, looking down at his shiny shoes, your fingers turning white from gripping onto your hoodie so hard. 

“Agent Jareau, said your mom told you to hide from the man who was pushing into your house. Did you know the man?” 

With a shake of your head, more tears start to fall, “no.. he sounded like one of those guys who go door to door to sell you stuff..”

“A salesman?”

“Yeah, like the one you see in movies that try to sell you vacuum cleaners. But he was trying to push his way into the house after my dad said he wasn't interested. That's when my mom told me to go hide. So i went down into the basement, that's when I heard my mom screaming. I couldn’t make out what he was saying but all I could hear was her screaming. And then there was silence.. An..and i knew that he had killed my parents. I waited until I heard him leave the house before I even dared to move. I guess my neighbors heard my parents screaming because that's when I heard the sirens. But I was too afraid that he was still in the house, and when Agent Jareau called down the stairs, that's when I came out of the crawlspace.” You choke out, your throat closing making you feel like you couldn’t breathe. 

“It’s going to be okay, we’re gonna catch the guy who did this. Agent Morgan is going to get in contact with your Aunt and Uncle, but until they can get back you’re gonna stay with us.” Hotch wrapped an arm around you as you sobbed into his kevlar vest. 

“Where is your bedroom? I can send an Agent up to grab you some clothes.” He rubbed your arms, and you sniffled, looking up at him.

“No.. no i want to get my own stuff..” You wipe your eyes with the back of your sleeve, and stand up, your battered converse hitting the ground.

“Are you sure?” Hotch looks at you, taking in your all black jeans, and a hoodie. Black streaks of mascara running down your face as you hastily wipe away the tears that you were fighting to hold back.

“I'm sure. I just need a few minutes.” 

With a nod, he walks with you up to the house, where numerous officers and agents are walking around, taking pictures of evidence, and dusting for fingerprints. By the front door a large puddle of blood still sits on the floor, and your swallow back bile that rises in your throat. That was your father's blood, there was no denying it. He had been the one to open the door, he was the one who was attacked first. The tangy smell of copper assaults your nose as you walk up the stairs to your room. Agent Hotchner is close behind you, and he watches you as you carefully move around the room shoving some clothes and personal belongings into the bag. While your back is to him you open the small box you keep in your nightstand and take a quick inventory of your supplies. 8 gleaming razors shine back at you and you snap the box close, shoving into the depths of your bag. After you’re sure you have everything you wanted and needed, you turn back to the agent who is studying your artwork on the walls. At least a hundred scraps of paper with small doodles and poems litter your walls. Most of them appear to be happy but if you read or looked closely you could see they only masked the broken things within them. You clear your throat, gaining the attention of the profiler. 

“All set?” He glances over at you, and clears his own throat. 

With a short nod you brush by him and make your way outside to the lawn where you can see 3 black chevy suburbans are waiting. 

“You can ride with me, I'm the only one with extra room right now so I hope you don't mind.” He guides you over to the first SUV, he opens the passenger side door for you and climb in, setting the bag at your feet. 

You watch as he walks over to the other side and slides into the driver's seat, turning the key in the ignition, the engine roars to life and he starts to drive down the road. The ride is silent, until he reaches the police station. There you are questioned by many officers, they all ask you the same thing, to recount what happened and anything you could remember about the day and the last few weeks. You tell them all the same thing, no you didn't see anyone hanging around your house, no your parents didn't have enemies. After hours of answering questions you were fed up with talking so you pulled your ipod from your pocket and turned on the loudest song you had and blasted it. Shutting all the talking and questions out, you put your head down on your hands and got lost in the songs that streamed from the ipod. 

After a few songs a hand touched your shoulder, and you jerk up, your hair falling into your face and you rip the headphones from your ears. 

“Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you. But we can go now. I have arranged for you to stay in the other bed in my hotel room. Unless you would rather be with Agent Morgan and JJ. But they don't have an extra bed, and the other members of my team are staying here to work through most of the night to try and catch the man who did this.” Hotch explains as you try to calm your racing heart. 

“N-no, that's fine.” You push back in the chair and stand, and he gives you a soft smile, and gestures for you to follow him out to the parking lot. 

You drive there in silence and nothing is said until you get back to the hotel room. 

“I have to make a quick phone call, feel free to change and do what you need to do.” He smiles and shuts the door behind him as he steps out into the hall. You sigh in relief and quickly discard your hoodie. You root around in your bag for the small box and pull it open, grabbing one of the blades and your hoodie, you shove the box back into the depths of your bag. You hurry into the bathroom, turning on the shower for good measure. You put the toilet seat lid down and sit down, you roll up the sleeves of your shirt, and stare at your scarred wrists. You take a shaky breath, and press the blade against your skin, dragging it across. The pain cuts through the fog in your head. 

You couldn’t process everything that had gone on today, you were swimming in thoughts. You couldn't get image of your fathers blood out of your head, you couldn't stop hearing their screams. You couldn't stop hearing the deafening silence that came after. Tears were falling nearly as fast as the blood, it was pooling on the tan tile of the bathroom. 7 bright red cuts stared back at you from your wrist. Taking a gasping breath you grab a small hand towel and press it against your wrist, and it turns it from white to red fairly quickly. You hadn’t anticipated going as deep as you did but you couldn’t take it back. You rummage around in the bathroom and find a small first aid kit. You wrap the wounds tightly and eventually it stops bleeding. After taking a few minutes to bury the washcloth in the trash can and put away the first aid kit. You clean up the floor, flushing the bloodied toilet paper down the toilet and turn off the shower. You throw on your hoodie and throw the blade in the trash can before exiting. When you get into the room Hotch is sitting on the bed with a large Manila folder which you assume is the case file on your parents. 

“You didn't have to fake being in the shower if you needed a moment alone. I know today has been rough for you.” Hotch looks up from the folder, and you stare at him, your heart is racing. Does he know? Did he figure out why you went into the bathroom?

“Everyone needs a quiet moment, especially after what you went through today. Its normal to want to be alone for a moment.” He offers you a small smile, his gaze returning to the folder. 

You give him a small nod, and climb into the spare bed, it wasn't very late, but you were exhausted, as soon as you laid down you fell into a dark and dreamless sleep. 

~

Hotch stayed up most of the night, reading over the files, having hushed conversations in the hallway with the rest of the team, eventually around 2am he fell asleep. Only to be woken up by a phone call at 7, Gracia had found some important information on the Unsub and your family history. 

The phone call pulled your from your dreamless sleep, and you sit up as Hotchner is pulling on his suit jacket. 

He puts his gun into the holster and turns to you. “I’ll have an agent collect you in a few hours, feel free to order room service, just don't leave this room, and don't open the door to anyone who isn’t hotel staff or an agent.” 

You give a small nod and watch as he leaves the room, after a few moments you go over to your bag, you put on one of the outfits you brought with you. You shrug on a different black hoodie, this one has your favorite band splashed across the front of it, you grab your headphones and ipod and slip quietly out of the hotel room. You start off down the street, making your way to your childhood home. The yellow police tape still hangs from your front door, the smell of bleach and cleaner wafts from the open window in the living room. The crime scene cleanup crew must’ve left it open to try to air out the smell. But nothing could completely cover the tangy smell of coopery blood. Your parents blood. You duck around the back of the house and sit on the small porch swing your father put up for you when you were 8, and begged him for a place you could watch the thunderstorms. You pull your knees up to your chest, resting your chin against the tops of them. The happy memories this house gave you flood back, and tears well in your eyes. Because behind every happy memory you had in your childhood home, a darker one lingered. Sure your parents were great, they never did anything bad to you, they never hurt you. You never had any real hardships, your life was okay. But what your parents couldn’t protect you from, was your own mind. For years you had always thought about what it would be like to take a little too much of a pain medication. Or jump from a height that was just a little too high. You had thought of grabbing the wheel of your mothers’ car when she was driving and steering into oncoming traffic. You had those thoughts for as long as you can remember, but it wasn’t until you got into highschool, that people started to make comments about you. When they pushed you in the hallways for no reason and called you names, that you decided to act on those thoughts. 

You were 14 when your parents found you unconscious on the bathroom floor, you had swallowed an entire bottle of your mothers’ pain medication. You were rushed to the hospital, spent a small time in the psych ward, you lied your way out. Claiming you didn't mean to take that many, that you didn't know what you were doing, that you haven't slept much and it was your sleep deprived mind that caused you take too many. When your parents started to lock up some of the heavier medications in the house you had t o find a new escape. So you turned to cutting, and for now that was working. 

~

“Hotch,” Aaron pressed the cell phone to his ear turning away from the detectives.

“She’s not here man, I checked the entire hotel.” Morgan tell the senior agent, and Hotch lets out a breath, running a hand over his face he mutters that he’ll go look for you and hangs up on Morgan.

He gets into the SUV and starts to drive, he’s not really sure you would’ve gone back to your house but it was a good place to start. Gracia had told him about your stay in a psych ward, about how you had mandatory therapy through your highschool. She also told him that before the end of the school year your best friend had reported to the guidance counselor that she was worried about you, that you might be delving into drugs or something because you had suddenly lost interest in everything. Hotch presses down harder on the gas pedal, his mind racing that your parents dying could be the thing to set you over the edge. 

He whips the SUV into the driveway, and approaches the house seeing that the crime scene tape is untouched, he concludes you haven't gone into the house, he walks around the side of the house and sees that the side gate is open slightly, he can also hear the slight creaking of a swing. He rounds the corner slowly, and that's when he sees you. You’re sitting on a porch swing, your black hoodie discarded on the porch under your feet, and your fingers are absently tracing your wrist, from where he's standing he can see angry red lines and raised scars litter your skin. 

He walks over to you, and you jump as he places his hand on your shoulder. You were so lost in your thoughts that you didn't hear him come up behind you. 

“You’re going to be okay, Y/N.” he crouches down and takes in your tears stained cheeks. 

“But what if i'm not…  What if i'm never okay. I don't have anyone anymore.My parents are gone. My best friend thinks i do drugs. I have these thoughts and I just want them to go away and they just won't go away.” You cry and Hotch reaches forward and pulls you off the swing, he clutches you to his chest. He whispers soothing words into your hair as he holds you and you finally let yourself be the broken, and ruined girl that you are. After almost an hour of him just holding you letting you get everything out, he looks down at you. 

“Y/N, i promise before i leave that i will make sure you aren’t alone, that you will get the help you need. I will even give you my personal number so you can call me at anytime. But I promise you. You’re going to be okay, it might take years, but eventually you’ll be okay. Just don't put those walls back up. You have to let people in. Because if you don’t, then we won't be able to help.” You wipes a stray tear from your cheek. 

You sniffle and nod, “Okay… I want you to help me.” 

~~~~~~~~~~

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[thejollyroger-writer]

Keep Hope Close at Hand - Prologue

A/N:  The other day, I got this terrible idea of a cursed universe where Killian is Henry's father but neither of them knows it, and this is what happened. It's going to be very slow-going because grad school, but it's HAPPENING. I'm hoping to get a chapter out every few weeks or so, but if you want to be tagged when it does update, just let me know. I completely scrap every bit of canon once the curse is cast (and even before that). Good luck. 

@shireness-says , I hope you’re happy. This fic wouldn’t exist anywhere outside of my mind if it weren’t for your insistence.

Summary:  When a curse is going to send the inhabitants of Enchanted Forest, Captain Killian Jones, husband to the Princess, must take their daughter through the wardrobe to save them from the curse and give her the ability to break the curse when the time comes.

Also on AO3!

“There is nothing okay about this plan, Emma!” Killian yells, the heels of his boots practically echoing on the stone floors as he pushes his fingers through his hair, a movement that he's done so many times during the course of this conversation that parts of it are standing straight up.

“It's the only way, Killian,” she says, not for the first time, and hangs her head, refusing to turn around and look at her husband.

“It can't be the only way, and I won't — I won't do it, Emma. I'm not leaving you here.”

“There's a curse coming. A curse that's going to break us all up, take away all our memories. The wardrobe will only take two people, and I'm the princess of this realm. I can't leave my people behind.”

“But you can leave your daughter behind? Leave me behind?” She expects him to be angry, upset, incredibly pissed off — all of the things he's been throughout their whole conversation. But what she doesn't expect to hear is the sadness in his voice as it cracks while he asks this question.

Finally, she turns to him, but his back is to her, staring out the window over the ocean. By the time she makes it across the room to him, she can see his shoulders shaking as he tries to hold himself together, as he tries to hold in his sobs.

This is still something that amazes her whenever she sees it: Killian Jones, the former Captain Hook, the most villainous pirate in all the realms, who has since shed his moniker, his treachery, and his position to be with her, to marry her — showing emotion. When she met him, his only care in the world was his revenge against the Dark One, and he was willing to do whatever was necessary to finally get it. He was a hard man, an unbreakable shell of an exterior, but it did not take Emma long to get through to him and see him for what he really was: a broken man.

It had taken her a year to make him believe that she saw his true self and not the revenge-driven mask he'd worn for far too long. He's always been much more than a pirate, but it had been a few hundred years since anyone saw him that way. But as soon as he realized that she wasn't fooled by him, that she saw him for who he really was, he had already been in love with her for a few months. She was incredibly attractive, yes, absolutely the type of woman that he would have brought home to his ship for the night, but to be in love with her? That's something he hadn't thought was possible.

It took another year after that for her to realize her feelings matched his, that he was someone she was allowed to have feelings for, though it took her father a while to see it the same way. (Though Killian offering to give up his Captain Hook moniker and life of piracy in exchange for a position as naval advisor definitely helped. He was in the Navy once upon a time, of course.)

But two weeks after King David had given Killian permission to wed, they exchanged their vows in front of the whole kingdom as Captain Killian Jones and Princess Emma of Misthaven.

“Killian,” she says gently, setting her hand on his shoulder and he turns to her, startled that she is suddenly so close to him. "You know that's not true, right?"

"Well then, what is it, Emma?" The pain in his voice matches that in his eyes, and for a moment, Emma is not even sure that she can produce an answer strong enough to pull him out of his sadness. Thankfully, as her tongue seems to return to its normal size, he continues. "What is it about me and our daughter that makes it so easy to let us go while you stay behind to be cursed by the Evil Queen?"

For the briefest of moments, she wants to tell him the whole truth, the only secret she has ever felt the need to keep from her husband after five years of marriage. But she knows that it would just hurt him more, break his heart the rest of the way open knowing they have to separate, and she bites her tongue before all the words fly out. But when she doesn't produce an answer he turns away from her, back to the window, and all she can do is wrap her arms around him, pressing her cheek against his back.

"You need to keep her safe, Killian. Once the curse is cast, she will be all you have. And you will be her whole world. She's too young to remember me, and the curse will wipe all our memories, so I won't remember either of you."

With her ear pressed to his back, she hears him take a deep, shaking breath, running his fingers through his hair once more before turning in her arms, wrapping his own around her waist.

"Why do you have to be right all the bloody time?" he asks, his voice still recovering from his sobs, but he tries his hardest to smile at her.

And she tries to smile back. " Just comes with being the princess, I guess."

They stand in silence for a few moments, simply breathing in the presence of the other. But Killian's need to have his questions answered quickly wins importance over this moment.

"How long do we have?"

"Blue estimates a few weeks, at most. Geppetto is building the wardrobe as quickly as he can, it should be finished in the next few days."

"And when will the fairies come back from their journey?"

"As long as she was right about how long it would take, they should be back tonight."

Killian flicks his tongue out of his mouth to wet his bottom lip, nodding slowly, and if Emma hadn't learned that this particular combination signified her husband lost in his thoughts, she would have leaned forward to capture his lips with her own.

But after a moment, his eyes find hers again, suddenly much brighter than they were just moments before. "Do you think your mother would be able to watch our little lass tonight? So we can spend one last evening on the Jolly, one last evening to ourselves before we get have to separate?"

Emma smiles up at him, always amazed at his ability to find a silver lining in every situation. "I think I could probably talk her into that."

 The next afternoon, everyone is gathered in the council chambers, Killian holding their swaddled daughter in his arms, everyone waiting for Blue to begin, having called the meeting immediately upon her return.

"First thing first, Geppetto will be delivering the wardrobe tomorrow with some of his most trusted men. As he originally intended, it will hold enough magic to transport two people to another realm, away from the curse. Have you decided who is going to join the child?"

Killian and Emma share a glance, a soft, sad smile on her lips, and she watches him as he turns back to the fairy hovering above the center of the table. "Aye, I'll be taking her through the portal."

Emma looks across the table and meets her mother's eyes. She seems surprised at this answer, even though Emma gave her the very same excuses she gave Killian: her dedication to the kingdom, her need to stay with her people. But, also like Killian, she has kept her secret from her mother, the real reason she is too afraid to go through the portal herself and be with her daughter, even knowing that Killian would do anything to find her again.

“Good,” the fairy says as if it were just another meaningless decision like the ones that are usually made at this council table and not the hardest thing Emma has ever had to do. “Do not leave this room before I can speak with you, Captain Jones,” she adds. Killian nods, and Emma watches as the muscles of his jaw harden as he grinds his back teeth together. “Next, it seems the Evil Queen is a few days closer to casting this curse as we originally intended.”

“How many days?” Emma asks quickly, voicing the question on everyone’s mind.

“Quite a few, actually. We can probably expect the curse to be cast by the end of the week.”

“The end of the week?” Snow asks, amazed by just how quickly everything is falling apart, and a few others around the table voice similar concerns, but Emma just keeps her eyes fixed on her husband, who turns to face her, his expression awash with sadness.

“What do you mean the end of the week?!” Grumpy, the loudest of all the dwarves, jumps out of his seat, slamming his fist against the table. “You said we had a few weeks left, and now you’re giving us no more than a few days!”

The expression on the fairy’s face stays unfaltering. “I apologize, I really do,” she says as loudly as she can, trying to regain control of the council room, which only takes a moment. “We were not expecting the Evil Queen to act this quickly, but now that we know she has, we can take all necessary precautions and be as prepared as we can when the curse is finally cast.”

The room erupts into chaos once more, everyone in the room talking at once — except Emma and Killian, who sit silently next to each other, Emma’s hand on Killian’s leg as they both stare down into the bright blue eyes of their daughter.

Even if her life depended on it, Emma is not sure that she could recall any of what happened at the council meeting after that, besides the fact that every few minutes, it erupted into a cacophony of screaming voices outraged at the news Blue was sharing with them. But it is not until the members of the council begin to file out of the room that Emma even realizes that she was no longer paying attention, focused intently on trying to memorize every feature of her daughter’s face, of her husband’s.

Because, in a few days, no one could be sure when she would see them again.

If she would ever see them again.

“Captain Jones, I have a few things I would like to tell you in private if you don’t mind?” Blue asks, her wings carrying her slowly towards them across the table.

“Of course,” Killian says softly, not sure that he has enough in him to say much more, and holds the swaddled baby out to his wife with as much of a smile as he can muster, though it barely lasts a moment before it fades. Once Emma has closed the doors of the council room behind her, he turns his attention back up to the fairy, who is now hovering just a few feet from his face.

“Your journey is not going to be easy,” she says, and Killian barks out a laugh.

“Aye, really? Leaving my love behind to get cursed, knowing that our little girl is going to be raised without a mother? History sure has a damned ironic way of repeating itself, doesn’t it?”

“This child will have you , Captain. And you will have her. But one day in the future, she will be the key to breaking the curse, to finding your family and being together again. Do you understand?”

Killian swallows as a sudden chill inches its way down his spine. This is new information for him, knowing that it is on him to raise the little girl who will piece his life back together. “How will I know when it is time?”

“That is a question I do not have the answer to. All I can say is that when it is time, she will let you know. Keep hope close at hand, Captain. The day will come.”

“Excellent. Nothing like incredibly cryptic messages from a bloody fairy.”

“I am sorry I cannot be more straightforward with things of this nature. But find solace in the fact that she will break the curse when the time is right.”

 Much to everyone’s dismay, only five days pass before dark purple smoke is seen on the horizon, moving quickly towards Misthaven.

The time has come.

Killian collects the few things they have decided to bring with them packed in a satchel slung over his shoulder. But before he turns to the bassinet where their daughter is sleeping, completely unaware of the chaos that her life is about to become, he turns to his wife, standing unmoving in the middle of the room, paralyzed by shock.

Quickly, he fills the space between them, resting his palm against her cheek just in time to catch her first tear with his thumb. “I will do everything I can to find you, darling,” he whispers, trying to will her eyes to raise from the floor and meet his, needing to take one last look into the entire world hidden behind them before he can depart. After a moment, she does just that, her chin quivering against his hand as she is unable to contain the tears that have welled in her eyes.

She opens her mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. Instead, she lunges forward and hugs him as tightly as she can, burying her face in the crook of his neck, trying to breathe as much of him in as she can. He does the same with her, deep breaths through his nose trying to memorize the smell of her, the feel of her hair against his cheek, as much of her as he can, just as he has been trying to do since the curse was first announced to them.

“I knew you were going to have to leave, have to take her with you, but I didn’t — I was trying to avoid believing that I was actually going to have to say goodbye.”

“Aye, love, I know how you feel. I cannot begin to express just how damned much I will miss every single thing about you, you know that?”

“I love you,” she whispers, her lips wet with tears but finding his anyway.

He couldn’t care less, just focused on feeling her against him, her lips against his for the last time in who knows how long. “I love you. Not a day will go by when I don’t think of you.”

She laughs, though it quickly turns to sobs. “Good.”

He pulls her tight against him once more, knowing that they are running out of time, but he never wants to let her go.

“Emma, darling,” he mumbles finally, no part of him wanting her to move a muscle.

But reality quickly sinks in when the door to their room crashes open, David’s face red and the king breathless.

“What are you still doing here?” he yells, and Killian pulls himself away from her, the single hardest thing he has ever had to do, letting her turn instead to her father. “Take her and go! You’re running out of time!”

Killian nods at the king, a man that he has grown closer to than he ever would have thought possible, then reaches down and pulls his daughter out of her bassinet, turning back to Emma and David for one final look before he pulls the door to the wardrobe open and steps through it, closing it behind him. For a moment, it’s just dark, the smell of freshly-felled wood thick in his nose, but then the world begins to spin around him and all he can do is hold his daughter against his chest as tightly as he can.

“Don’t worry, darling, I have you,” he whispers, his eyes squeezed shut, and then his feet are on hard ground again. When he opens his eyes, all he can see is trees.

It worked.

Back in Misthaven, as the purple smoke begins to weave its way through the castle, Emma clings to her father, finally voicing the secret that she so desperately wished she didn’t have to keep from her husband: “I’m pregnant. I couldn’t tell Killian, he would have refused to leave, would have refused to let me stay here, but I couldn’t — I was too afraid, and now this baby will never know his father.”

Her emotions are finally too much for her, and even though David is trying his best to hold her up, she collapses to the floor, her sobs echoing off the cold stone of the castle as the curse reaches the deepest depths of the realm.

[curlsincriminology]

Six Days of Silence - Spencer Reid x Reader

Summary: After a week of silence and fighting, the team comes up with a plan to get you and Spencer back on good terms.

A/N: This fic is Maeve erasure!!! Sorry! This takes place (in my mind) around season 8/9. Also this is the longest piece I have written in a while so sorry it took a while to get up! holy moly

Criminal Minds Masterlist | Complete Writing Masterpost

He was a hard-core coffee aficionado; you preferred the taste of freshly steeped tea.

He liked it more when things stayed static; you would wake up at 3am with the urge to repaint the hallway.

 He was a string of numbers while you were the brush stroke of an ancient painting.

He was a tidal wave, a crash of facts and rapidly spoken words that jumbled together as a result of quick mind and a slightly slower tongue.

 You were a blizzard, a flurry of confusion and excitement that left an awe-filled silence as a result of the beauty you created.

 But you fit together perfectly.

He was your voice of reason; you were his sense of adventure.

 He was your anchor and yet you were his wings.

 You built off of each other’s strengths while guarding each other’s weaknesses.

 He was not your Romeo and you were not his Juliet. Your love was not a quick fuse- blinding and destructive; it was the crackle of the fireplace on a cold winter night. It was warm and embracing.

 Like fire, you were not the stuff of fairy-tales but of harsh realities. You would blaze brighter at some moments before returning to your comfortable glow. You would spit embers when pushed too far. Sometimes it took some help to keep the spark from distinguishing. But this time, you weren’t sure what it would take.

 ***

 You’d never been this long without talking. Spencer was never usually one to be quiet, his constant rambling a comforting background hum that filled the silence of even your darkest days.

 But it had been six.

 Six days of silence and the feeling that maybe you both had gone too far. It was affecting your work, and the team had noticed the absence of your subtle hand touches and intimate smiles. They knew something was going on between the two of you, but not what.

 The team was lucky; they weren’t present for the screaming match that happened the minute the two of you got behind the closed door of your apartment after the first day. They didn’t know that you had temporarily moved out of Spencer’s apartment, and were currently living in a shifty motel minutes away from headquarters.

 But they knew something was wrong.

 On day seven, you arrived in the office early in an attempt to bury yourself in casework, knowing Spencer was still at least an hour away from arriving. Your eyes were red and swollen from the angry tears you had shed on your drive over, and no amount of eye drops had allowed it to subside.

 On your way in Penelope, her eyes clouded with concern, stopped you as you exited the elevator. “Y/N, what’s going on, honey? Please talk to me.”

 You bowed your head in an attempt to ignore her, walking quickly through the glass doors towards your cubicle but the technical analyst was hot on your heels. “Just… not now, okay Penny?”

 The click of her heels followed you despite your protests and you sighed, exhausted by the prospect of sharing how you felt and talking when all you really wanted to do was cry. Your world felt like it was crumbling around you; it felt like you were losing your best friend of almost a decade and your boyfriend of almost four, and that wasn’t something you exactly wanted to gab about.

 She caught up to you nonetheless. “No, Y/N, please. Sweetie, you and Spencer aren’t okay and the team has noticed, especially when you two didn’t sit together on the flight home last night. I mean, I noticed and I’m not a profiler. I don’t want to push—.”

 “Then don’t.” You snapped, throwing your bag onto your desk and turning towards your co-worker. The hurt in her eyes made you feel awful and you let out a choked sigh, rubbing your face roughly. “Penelope, I’m so sorry. I just can’t talk about it right now… I just need to work.”

 You could see that despite everything, she was trying to understand. She gave you a sad smile and reached out to you tentatively, patting your arm with a gentle look. The two of you stood there for a moment before she gave your arm a reassuring squeeze. “I’m going to make some tea. Would you like some?”

 You gave her a tired and grateful nod and she bobbed her head in confirmation before quickly skittering off. You took your seat at your desk and bowed your head in your hands, taking a moment to breathe before opening the first file you saw.

  Spencer was suffering. Never the one to be lost for words, he couldn’t put his finger on why things had spiralled in the way he did. In the apartment the two of you shared… used to share, he fiddled absentmindedly with buttons of the cardigan you had thrown over the kitchen chair. It still smelled like you.

 He tossed it away with a frustrated groan.  He knew he was to blame in all of this. He was… on edge.

 Maybe he was looking for an excuse.

 The ring was in the inner pocket of his messenger bag, carefully placed amidst the case files and briefs, waiting for its moment to shine. It had resided there for six months… waiting for him to find the right time to present it to you along with everything it represented. But he couldn’t.

 Now he didn’t know if he ever would. The young doctor raked his hands through his hair anxiously.

 “Where do you see us in the next few years?”

 You had been cuddled together in bed, his slender fingers tracing lazy circles on your arms as you fiddled with his hair. The question had been innocent enough—but he had frozen at the question, and you had noticed. Of course you had noticed. “I, uh…” You had both expressed your desire for kids and marriage and a future together, and your most recent case had dealt with a jilted ex-fiancée. It was only natural this conversation would come up eventually.

 You had noticed his change in attitude over the last few months. He was quieter than usual, and when he spoke his thoughts trailed off frequently. He was spending more time away from the house, more time in his head when he wasn’t. And there were the phone calls.

 You tensed. “Spencer.”

 “I don’t… know.”

 You had sat up abruptly, jerking away from him and causing him to scramble into an upright position. “You ‘don’t know’.”

 It had all gone downhill so quickly from there.

 God, why had I said that, he thought. Of course he had known where the two of you would be in a few years—he had the ring for a reason. But with you looking at him so full of unadulterated love, he had felt guilty because he knew you deserved everything in the world, and he was so afraid he couldn’t give it to you.

 ***

 You were still off sulking and Spencer had yet to arrive. Penelope didn’t know how much time the team had before either of you entered the office and went in search of the missing members of the BAU, so she had to move quickly.

 “I’ve asked you all here because our sweet like Boy and Girl Genius are at odds and I will not stand to see my dream couple torn apart after everything that’s happened with TomKat, and Heidi and Seal. My bleeding heart cannot take it.”

 “Tom Kat?” Rossi’s quiet scepticism was met by Emily’s subtle eye roll as she leaned towards him to explain.

 “She’s talking about Katie Holmes and Tom Cruise.”

 “Oh.”

 Penelope’s noise of derision returned the room’s focus to her. “They are not important! What’s important is that Y/N and Spencer are clearly not in good places right now and we need to fix that!”

 Emily leaned back in her seat, considering the complexity of the situation. “Garcia, what are we supposed to do? How many times have we seen them fight in the last four years? Twice, maybe? And those fights lasted what, a total of two hours tops? It’s been six days. Clearly this isn’t something small.”

 Penelope’s face drooped as she nodded sadly. “I know, but we can’t just sit here while they drift apart.”

 “Frankly, I agree with Garcia.” There was a room-wide expression of surprise at Hotch’s interjection. His stern face was pinched, a hand rubbing at his temple as he continued on. “Apart from whatever implications it’s having on their relationship, it’s affecting the team’s dynamic. Y/L/N and Reid are both clearly not in the right head space to complete anything properly, and I’d rather not make their relationship a cause for professional reprimand.”

 The silence of the room was broken a moment later by JJ, her voice subdued as she fiddled with a piece of paper on the table. “He bought a ring, you know.”

 “He what?” Despite the general shock, Derek was the one whose voice rang the loudest.

 The blonde agent was clearly conflicted with how much of her confidential conversations she should be sharing with the group of experienced profilers. “Six months ago. He’s been waiting for the right moment to propose but you know how he is. He’s spent so much time with me and Will, constantly trying to perfect his proposal that he’s probably driven himself crazy.”

 Rossi clucked his tongue, his brain shifting quickly with the insight of new information. “We did just finish that case regarding the woman who killed the ex-partners of her fiancé.”

 “And the fighting started the day after, didn’t it?” Emily’s face was drawn tightly, an almost pained look of concern shaping her features. “Do you think he proposed and she turned him down?”

 “Now, I know Pretty Ricky’s a little slow on the social cues but there is no way in hell that boy would choose to propose after a train wreck of a case like that. Even I wouldn’t want to think about settling down after what we just saw.”

 “Whatever it was, it was bad, guys. Y/N is miserable all the time, and I don’t think Reid has said more than a few hundred words this entire week.” Penelope had taken to pacing back and forth in front of the head of the table, the tap of her heels echoing through the room. “But I have a plan…”

 ***

 The words in front of you might as well have been written in some lost language that no one had deigned to learn in the last several centuries. You slid the case file away from you, suddenly overwhelmed by the clutter that surrounded you.

 It had been several hours of this, this stressed false productivity that you were sure had resulted in numerous case reports you would have to re-do later. But at least you weren’t on a case and at least you had been left alone. Spencer had shown up an hour or so later after you had, quickly avoiding your gaze as he hurried past your desk to his own, and you had resigned yourself to another day full of silence and heartache.

 The remaining members of the BAU had also been suspiciously silent, and you had caught them staring at you or Spencer multiple times throughout the day before resigning to strained whispers. You tried to ignore it as best you could, not needing the stress of your team on top of your own.

 It wasn’t until the end of the day anyone spoke to you aside from the usual pleasantries and small talk. Derek had sauntered up to your desk to find you staring blankly at a crime scene report and he sighed at the sight. “Lil mama, you’re breaking my heart over here.”

 You glanced up at him warily as he took a seat on the edge of your desk, picking up one of the many case files you were feeling buried under. “Hm?”

 “You’re bringing down my mood, girl! I was totally set to have a day-off from the field and I can’t even enjoy it because you and Little Boy Blue over there are harshin’ my groove. So you’re going to follow me, and we’re going to get out of this sad little bubble you’re in and do something to bring a smile back to that pretty little face of yours. Alright?”

 You gave him a hesitant nod and he awarded you with a mega-watt grin when the hint of a smile graced your lips. “Alright!” He cheered jokingly as he gently raised your chin to admire your attempt. “She still smiles!”

 That did it, and you felt yourself smiling genuinely for what felt like the first time in forever. You reached for your bag and wallet, but Derek shook his head as he grabbed your hand. “Nope— Adventure’s on me, sweetness.” You shrugged and left your bag where it sat under your desk, following Derek as he pulled you along.

 Spencer watched your interaction from behind his cubicle walls, a growing pit in his stomach as he watched Derek finally draw the first smile from you he had seen since your fight. He was happy you had support, but that didn’t make it any easier to witness. JJ was the one who finally broke him out of his reverie, pulling his gaze from you as you and Derek walked away.

 “Hey.” The young agent turned to face his confidant with a desolate smile.

 “Hi, JJ.” Her gaze followed the direction of his as she watched Derek chatting to you animatedly while you waited for the elevator. She let out a sad sigh and looked pityingly at the man in the chair.

 “Oh, Spence…”

 His face crumpled at her words, and he dropped his head into his hands. “I really messed up, JJ.” She knelt down in front of him, placing her hands on his knees in an attempt to regain his focus. She tried to regain eye contact, but with his head bowed, dark curls and large hands obscured her view. JJ squeezed his knees reassuringly.

 “Let’s go for a walk and we can talk about it. Okay?”  

 Spencer nodded from behind his hands, allowing the agent in front of him to stand and pull him up from his seat before she wrapped a supportive arm around his waist.

 ***

 Derek had made you wander around outside, leading you down a small path behind the building towards a sprawl of restaurants and coffee shops. You had, for just a moment, thought you had seen Hotch and Emily standing inside one of the French restaurants you had passed, but it was probably just a non-descript dark haired couple. Somehow, before you knew it the sun was quickly setting, and you realized you had managed to spend a stress-free hour or two without thinking about Spencer once.

 On your way back to the office Derek stopped, you grabbing your arm gently to pull you into a surprising hug. It was a welcomed comfort. “I just want you to know, kid. We’re all rooting for you.” The sincerity of his statement was sweet, if not a little out of place, but you smiled gratefully in spite of your confusion.

 “Thanks, Derek.”

 He gave you a final squeeze before motioning you inside so that you could grab the things you had left behind. It wasn’t until you reached the elevators that you realized he was no longer behind you, somehow slipping away silently after his words of encouragement. You shrugged it off, knowing he probably needed to get home to Savannah, and that it would have made no sense for him to follow you upstairs just to return down to the car park.

 It was a lot later than you expected when you got off the elevator and began the walk towards the BAU’s office segment. Luckily, that meant you didn’t need to talk to anyone or stay for particularly long.

 Yet when you pushed through the glass doors of the BAU, you froze.

 The bullpen was…awe-inspiring. It didn’t look anything like the space you were used to, the cubicles covered in gauzy white sheets strung with fairy lights that gave an ethereal glow to the entire room without the harsh overhead lighting. In the centre of it all was a small table, intimately dressed with a fine tablecloth and a bottle of champagne sitting in a bucket of ice. You couldn’t tell what was on the plates from where you stood but it smelled incredible.

 It wasn’t long before you realized you weren’t alone.

 Spencer cleared his throat, causing you to jump as he gave you an apologetic grimace. “Grabbing this?” He was holding your purse delicately as you looked at him quizzically, the question ‘why are you here?’ clearly evident on your face. He cleared his throat again before looking down at his beaten up shoes. “JJ asked me to grab a file she had forgotten.”

 You shook your head wearily, nodding towards the table and the folded piece of paper that rested on top.

 “I think we’ve been ‘Parent Trapped’.” You murmured under your breath, your arms wrapping tightly around your stomach in an attempt to soothe yourself. Spencer’s slender fingers reached out to pluck the note off the table as he set your purse aside, reading the short letter with a vaguely humoured expression.

 “Dear Spencer and Y/N,

 We don’t like it when Mommy and Daddy fight.

Please make up.

 Love, the Team.”

 He held the note out to you and you took it, quickly recognizing Garcia’s curvy scroll.

 You groaned. Suddenly your outing with Derek and his constant watch checking made a lot more sense. Spencer gave you a timid smile as he stepped forward and gestured towards the expensive champagne Rossi had undoubtedly supplied. “At least we don’t have to pay for it?”  

 You stood stoic, your arms tense as you made no attempt to move towards the table and Spencer sighed. “Y/N.”

 The chance of the doors out of the office being unlocked was slim, especially if the whole team was involved. They had learned the hard way that you were frustratingly stubborn, and they would have wanted to remove any and all ways for you to avoid facing the situation at hand.

 Spencer stepped towards you, a dejected frown on his face when you unknowingly took a step back. “Y/N, please.”

 You stared at him wordlessly before walking silently over to the table and taking a seat. He followed behind you sullenly, taking his seat and watching you fiddle with the napkin beside your plate. It was clear now, seeing the elegantly plated ratatouille and cheese plates that it had been Prentiss and Hotch you had seen earlier… everyone had had a part to play, it seemed.

 It was some time before you found the words that had been floating around your head for a week. “Do you not love me anymore?”

 Spencer spluttered, the fork he had been balancing in his hand making a loud clang as it fell to the table. “What?”

 “Do you not love me anymore?” You repeated, raising your eyes to his so he could see the hurt and doubt reflected in them. Immediately, his hands reached to grab yours—he held them tightly as if you would leave him that very moment if he let go.

 “Y/N. I can’t even—I don’t—I wouldn’t…”

 Now that the silence had been broken, it was hard to stop talking. “Because if you don’t see a future with me, Spencer, even if you do love me, I would want to know now.” It was harder to breathe as spoke and your words were coming out with more difficulty. “I – I love you, Spencer, but I can’t stay with someone who after four years doesn’t love me like I love them. I can’t stay with you if you’re scared of a future with me.”

 Spencer stared at you in disbelief, his heart aching as he watched you hold back tears. He took a deep breath, realizing that if there was ever a moment where he needed to take the leap, this was it.

 “Y/N, you asked me a week ago where I saw our relationship going. And… and I panicked. Not because I didn’t see us having a future but because there was no future I could see for myself without you in it.”

 You held your breath, somehow feeling numb and like every nerve ending in your body was on edge at the same time.  You stared down at your intertwined fingers, and marvelled at the way they had always fit together so perfectly. Spencer’s expression was soft when you lifted your gaze back to his.

 “Every day, we leave home, our home, and we face monsters. We see people at their lowest moments, when they’re dealing with unimaginable loss and pain.” He swallowed nervously as he gripped your hand tighter. “And from the moment I met you, I began to imagine what that would feel like. Because if I lost you, I don’t think I would ever be able to recover from that.  I’m so in love with you it scares me sometimes, because every time we leave home, I’m not worried about me, I’m worried about you.”

 You let out a gentle sigh. “Spencer…” He shook his head to signal he wasn’t finished.

 “And I know I don’t need to be because you are more than able to take care of yourself. But I’m still scared every single day that I won’t get to wake up next to you for the rest of my life, or I won’t get to raise a family with you. That is what terrifies me, Y/N. Not being with you, but being without you.”

 The tears that had slowly been building behind your eyes had silently begun to overflow; you brushed absently at your face in an attempt to wipe them away while Spencer used the moment to reach inside of his book bag. The small navy blue box that had appeared in his hand did nothing to slow your tears. His voice came out slightly choked at his first attempt and he cleared his throat before trying again.  You had somehow missed him getting on his knees. “Y/N Y/L/N, you have made me a better person in every single way possible, and if you’ll have me, I want to be with you for the rest of our lives. Y/N, will you marry me?”

 You weren’t able to hear the giddy squeals and surprised gasps coming from Penelope’s office, but they would have only added to the surreal nature of the situation. You nodded your head vigorously, the words stuck in your throat. Finally, you manage to choke out a, “yes”.

 Spencer beamed up at you, slipping the band over your finger before pulling you into a tender kiss as your hands moved up his shoulders to weave into his hair. You stood like that for what felt like a small lifetime, intertwined and giddy at the realization of what you both had just committed to.

 “Thank God she said yes, you little Casanova, otherwise I would have accepted for her.” The two of you pulled apart in shock, the voice coming from the overhead system startling you from your idyllic moment. It took just a few moments before the cavalcade of BAU agents descended the stairs, swarming to you like moths to a light. Garcia led the procession, and as such, was the first to engulf you in an ecstatic embrace. “I’m so sorry for interrupting but I couldn’t help it.”

 Derek was grinning from ear to ear as he clapped Spencer’s shoulder in celebratory manner. “Man, I can’t believe Pretty Boy popped the question before me. Definitely didn’t expect that.” He proceeded to pull you into a bear hug, raising you off the ground in his excitement and eliciting giggles from you in return.

 “Congratulations, you two. May you learn from every single mistake I made in my three marriages and never repeat them.” Rossi chuckled.

 JJ pulled Spencer into a tight hug, “I’m so proud of you, Spence.” She whispered as he squeezed her tightly.

 Hotch and Emily offered their congratulations as well, before Hotch began to round up the group. “Alright, alright. Let’s leave them to it.” Final smiles and hugs were exchanged as Hotch turned to face the two of you. “We got the maintenance crew to hold off cleaning until tomorrow. Enjoy yourselves.”

 “But not too much.” Emily chipped in cheekily, winking at Spencer who quickly developed a healthy flush at the insinuation.

 “I have cameras everywhere.” Garcia said with a pointed grin, as Derek pushed her towards the doors. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do. Which still leaves you with a lot.”

 You watched them begin to leave and you stepped forward hesitantly, calling out to your team, your family, that had done everything they knew how to fan your spark when you didn’t know where to start.

 “Guys?”

 The members of the BAU turned back to face you as you smiled appreciatively. Spencer’s hand had found his way back into yours and you were more than happy to realize there was no reason you would ever have to let go again.

 “Thank you.”

___

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[drreporting]

Echo Pt.14

14th June 2019.

Amelia entered the conference room, seeing, Maggie, Jo, Stephanie, Owen, Alex and Nathan. Isaac was still immobile, awaiting lifesaving surgery from Derek and, hopefully, Amelia. She sat down next to Owen, briefly greeting him before the man at the head of the table began speaking.

“Alright, let’s get things going,” the man said, clasping his hands together, “My name is John, I’m a lawyer for the travel company you guys flew with a couple weeks ago.” He pointed to the guy next to him. “This is Dr. Kingsley. He’s a therapist. We’re probably going to need him today as you all recall memories from this tragedy that occurred.”

“Is Owen really needed here, then?” Amelia asked, gesturing to her ex-husband.

“Well, he was a part of the accident,” John shrugged, “And maybe the conversation might help jog his memory.” Owen looked over at Amelia, smiling softly. She sighed stressfully in response; talking about the accident was the last thing she wanted to do.

“Who wants to start?” Dr. Kingsley asked.

“I’ll start,” Maggie offered, her breathing shaky. Closing her eyes, she thought about her words for a moment. “I didn’t have any serious injuries, thank god. But I keep dreaming about it.” A lot of doctors nodded in agreement; Amelia remained unfazed by her words. “I just remember the plane ripping in half as we landed in the trees, and Owen…” Tears came to her eyes.

“I what?” Owen prodded her, wanting to know what had caused his brain injury.

“You weren’t strapped in when the plane crashed,” Maggie explained, wiping tears out of her eyes, “You didn’t get time. So when the thing came crashing down, you flew out of the seat and…”

“The noise…” Jo muttered, “The loudest I’ve ever heard someone hit their head.” Owen frowned and looked to Amelia for some sort of confirmation.

“Why are you looking at me?” Amelia snapped, “I was at the front half of the plane.”

Sensing her agitation, Dr. Kingsley directed his next question at the neurosurgeon. “Do you want to talk about your experience, Dr. Shepherd?”

“Which part?” Amelia sweetly asked, “The part where Alex and Nathan painfully ripped my hand out the airplane window, the part where I can’t sleep at night anymore without waking up in a frenzy, or the part where I almost killed my ex-husband?” Some of the doctors whispered in hushed tones, unaware that Amelia and Owen had divorced.

“Amelia, you saved Owen’s life,” Maggie defended, getting over the news of their unsurprising separation.

“I got lucky,” the Shepherd muttered, averting her attention to her lap, clearly conveying that she didn’t want to talk anymore. She squeezed her left hand, phantom pain plaguing it the more she thought about the plane crash.

“Well, Dr. Hunt,” John said, flipping through some papers to kill the awkward silence that followed, “We’re all glad you made it through the accident and I also hear this is your first day back to work, so congrats to that too.”

“Thank you,” Owen said, briefly glancing at Amelia in worry. He wondered how affected she truly was by the situation; this was the first he was hearing about her having nightmares, although he wasn’t surprised.

“Well, of course there are more conversations that need to happen before we come to a final conclusion,” John announced to the surgeons as he went through his files, “But I am sad to say that the accident could’ve easily been avoided had the pilot been more experienced in choosing to avoid the storm, instead of flying through it, so we are accepting full responsibility for the situation.” He finally found the paper he was looking for. “Because of that, we’re looking at giving you all $2 million dollars, with Owen and Isaac receiving $5-$6 million.” Everyone’s eyes opened wide; even Amelia looked up briefly to show her shock.

---

Amelia moved through the apartment with Owen, collecting things and putting them in a travel bag. The place was a mess, clothes everywhere, and dishes unwashed.

“This is not how I remember myself,” Owen joked as he picked up clothes along the way, “You must’ve really ruined me.”

“Yeah,” she muttered distractedly, picking up a pair of his boxers that was on the couch, and handing it to him.

“Is everything alright?” he eyed her, taking the boxers from her hand. When she didn’t answer, he added, “You didn’t tell me you were having nightmares about the accident.”

“I don’t have to tell you anything, actually,” she reminded him harshly, hinting at their lack of emotional status, “And it’s not a big deal anyway.”

“PTSD is a big deal, Amelia,” Owen berated her, “I would know.”

“I don’t have PTSD,” she grumbled, handing him another piece of his clothing.

“You were avoiding talking about the accident earlier today,” he pointed out, “That’s a clear sign of PTSD.”

“Who wants to talk about all the bad stuff in their life?” she countered.

“Fair enough, but why do you keep wringing the hand that got stuck in the window?” he accused her. She rolled her eyes and ignored him. He eyed her suspiciously before thinking of something. Out of nowhere, he yelped in pain, grasping his head as he knelt to the floor. Instantly, Amelia jumped back, tears coming to her eyes as she looked at Owen in absolute horror. She couldn’t even open her mouth to ask him what was wrong; she was so scared.

“See?” he said, standing up as if nothing had ever happened.

“Are you crazy?” she screamed at him, holding a hand to her chest as she tried to control her breathing, “You can’t just do that.”

“I was just trying to prove a point,” he said. Noticing how traumatised she looked, and how she couldn’t catch her breath, he added, “Hey, are you okay? Sit down.” He guided her to the small kitchen table and sat her down on a chair, kneeling in front of her. “I’m sorry; I didn’t mean to scare you like that.” He took her hands and held them. “Just breathe, okay? Follow my breathing.” He inhaled slowly and watched as she followed him. After a minute or two of following his breathing, she seemed to be close to normal again, aside from the fact that she couldn’t stop the tears from falling.

“I’m sorry,” Owen apologised again, wiping the tears from her eyes, “I didn’t think you’d get that scared.” He pulled her into a hug and she held onto him for dear life, the tears continuing to fall. “Everything’s okay,” he whispered in her ear, caressing the back of her head, “I’m okay, alright?” She nodded, hugging him tighter. Accustomed to the cold, detached version of Amelia, Owen was surprised at how scared and how much she seemed to care about his wellbeing. It made him wonder how she really felt.

He pulled away from the hug and looked her in her eyes, wanting to know where they stood. “Amelia, if you don’t love me, why are you acting like this?”

“We were married; of course I love you,” she said, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand, “I said I didn’t have feelings for you.” He looked at her, a little confused. To him, love and feelings was the same thing. Clearly for her, it meant something entirely different.

“Well, is it still true?” he asked, a glimmer of hope in his eyes, “Do you still not have feelings for me?” He hoped it wasn’t true anymore, that he’d awoken something in her, because in the short time he’d spent with her, he’d grown to like her so much. He wished he could remember what it was like to kiss her.

“I don’t know,” she answered truthfully, “I think it’s a lot more complicated than yes or no for me.”

“Maybe you’re making it more complicated than it needs to be,” he offered as advice, giving her a friendly smile.

“Maybe,” she agreed, smiling back.

“Well,” he said, standing up and holding his hand out for her, “How about we find the rest of my stuff and give this crappy place back to the landlord?” She took his hand and stood up, and then paused, staring at him. Somehow, by just being himself with no memories, he’d managed to bring back some of their intimacy and, for the first time in months, Amelia had the urge to kiss him.

[devils-gatemedia]

Proving that hard work (along with killer tunes) does actually pay off, Halestorm have the “sold out” signs posted outside the largest venues that they have headlined in the UK. The current tour takes in some impressive venues, including Brixton Academy in London, which will shoehorn in nearly 5,000 punters. Tonight’s show is in the 2,500 capacity O2 Academy, and like the other dates, has been sold out for months. 2,500 punters witnessing not only one of the hardest working bands around today, but also one of the most eclectic bills that you are likely to encounter on the busy live rock circuit.

Opening the show are London/Belfast based alt-rock duo – Rews. The duo comprise of guitarist/vocalist Shauna Tohill with drummer/vocalist Collette Williams, and like most duos out there, what they lack in numbers, they more than make up for in spirit and energy. Debut album, ‘Pyro’, has (rightly) been praised by outlets as varied as BBC6 Music and Kerrang Radio, and after the first few songs from their short and well received set, it’s easy to see why. ‘Shine’ and the foot-stomping joy that is ‘Miss You In The Dark’ give the rapidly filling hall a shot of adrenaline, and people can be seen dancing… actual, real dancing, especially on the aforementioned hypnotic ‘Miss You In The Dark’. With a lot of the crowd checking them out for the first time, Rews can afford to chuck in a brand new track. ‘Can You Feel It’ is a little belter that features the ethos that everyone should live by..“Let’s dance like no one’s watching, sing like no one’s listening”. Couple that thought with a hugely infectious chorus, and you have three minutes of sheer delight. A band worthy of further investigating.

And now for something completely different… Avatar.

What a show! From the minute Rews left the stage, Big Top music was piped into the venue. A massive sign with ‘Avatar’ spelt out in white light bulbs was raised into place, as Avatar crew, dressed in smart uniforms, readied the stage for the arrival of his majesty, the King. Avatar file onto the stage one at a time, with The Greatest Showman (up yours, Jackman!) Johannes making his grand appearance last. The King himself, guitarist Kungen, sets the evening in motion with some fine windmilling and we are off on the crazy train! Did you ever watch Batman Returns and wonder what happened to The Penguin’s circus performers/gang members once he croaked? Well, four of them are here in Avatar (Five if you count bassist Henrik Sandelin, who is on a leave of absence due to family matters). “The resident stage ghost will play invisible bass for the time being.”

Jaws drop amongst the crowd as those unfamiliar with the Swedes wonder what the hell they are witnessing. Johannes himself points out the faces that those watching Avatar for the first time are making. What they are witnessing is Vaudeville meets Hammer Horror at a party over at Tim Burton’s house, where Johnny Depp has cracked open the Absinthe. Couple that with fast, melodic death metal playing at full volume, and sweet baby Jesus, what a full on assault of the senses!

An Avatar show works best in the dark. As good a festival band they are, as soon as you put them in a darkened theatre, the show takes on new meanings. Everything is gloriously over the top, right down to the choreographed role of the uniformed crew member who carefully waits on the King as he changes his tunic before launching into ‘The King Welcomes You To Avatar Country’… or when he brings on a solitary effects pedal for fellow guitarist Tim Öhrström, places it down like he was placing Cinderella’s glass slipper for her to try, stands to attention as Öhrström pulls off a face-melting solo, then carefully picks it up and retreats to his post in the wings. An incredible show, and one that provided a hot topic of conversation afterwards in the bastion of thought-provoking debate… the gent’s lav.

Oh Halestorm, how the UK has missed thee. Unless my maths are wrong, it’s been three years since Halestorm last played a headlining tour in the UK. Sure there have been festival slots, the “Carnival Of Madness” dates, and the astonishing “Evening With Halestorm” shows, but this is the first run of headlining dates since March 2015, and the place is heaving!

With the incredible new album ‘Vicious’ making waves everywhere, Halestorm are on fire right now. After what seems like an eternity since Avatar left the stage, the house lights drop and the noise level rises considerably. Halestorm have been mixing up the set on these dates, so much so that they could open with anything. It is funny, however, when the guy in front of me closes the page on his phone that is set to Setlist FM. Yep, it’s a totally different opener from the previous night. Here, the band crash into the title track of the new album, and we’re off and running.

Lzzy Hale will always get the loudest screams no matter what, and when she appears front and centre, the screams are deafening. Male, female, young, old, Mz Hyde herself has that instant appeal to all demographics. Wearing a fuzzy red jacket that oozes Marc Bolan, she begins to unleash the almighty voice that his her trademark.

The new material sounds killer and, as you would expect, the vast majority of the set is culled from ‘Vicious’. ‘Black Vultures’, ‘Skulls’ and the “controversial” ‘Do Not Disturb’ are all greeted with loud approval. The vinyl version of the album finally gets released later this week, and as Hale points out, it has four extra tracks on it. As they are mixing up the setlist each night, tonight we get treated to the first live performance of ‘Golden’, and what do you know, cellphones are lighting up the room with people going live on Facebook. The guy in front of me started off the evening on Setlist FM and has now progressed to Facebook live. Me? I’m watching bassist Josh Smith and thinking that if only he was wearing a red scarf, we all would be Negan.

Mixed in with the new material, are what you could call Halestorm staples. ‘Love Bites (So Do I)’, ‘Amen’, ‘Mz Hyde’, ‘Freak Like Me’, and an incredible version of ‘I Am The Fire’. Nothing from the debut album, but to be honest, airing ‘Familiar Taste Of Poison’ might have caused the intensity to drop down a notch or two. Arejay Hale still manages to make a drum solo fun and interesting. No golf umbrellas this time, just the oversized drum sticks.

Then there is the guitar work from Joe Hottinger and Lzzy Hale. Halestorm are a guitar band first and foremost, and this pair treat the crowd to some fretboard fireworks. When they get together and go for some improvisation and spread out the songs, the results are real standout moments. The solo that Hottinger unleashes on the highlight of the evening, ‘Killing Ourselves To Live’, further cements his reputation as a guitarist who grows in stature by the day. The pair appear on the edge of the stage for the encore, with Hottinger clasping an acoustic guitar. Hale sits down next to him as they peel off a stunning rendition of ‘The Silence’ from the new album. Stripped back and bare, it proves that sometimes the best moments are the quietest.

With the clock quickly ticking towards the dreaded 11pm curfew, the rest of the band come back on for ‘I Miss The Misery’ and the traditional set closer; ‘Here’s To Us’. The latter features tour manager Detroit coming on with four cups with what looks like Jägermeister, and in true Halestorm fashion, the band toast the crowd and neck the booze. This one time in Glasgow, they used Buckfast for the toast… I use that to clean my drains!

Halestorm, meet the big league. Big league, meet Halestorm. You two will be seeing a great deal of each other.

Halestorm finish up this UK run in Bristol on September 29th before heading over for European dates throughout October. All dates can be found here.

Review: Dave S

Images: Dave J

  Review: Halestorm – O2 Academy, Glasgow Proving that hard work (along with killer tunes) does actually pay off, Halestorm have the “sold out” signs posted outside the largest venues that they have headlined in the UK.

[hcneycakc-blog]

Text → BC🎮

aston: good morning, birthday girl

aston: i have been awake since the crack of dawn (literally) because mia wanted me to make sure i said happy birthday. if you want to tell this child that you can't message people that early in the morning, feel free because she never listens to me

aston: what do you have planned for today?

[hcneycakc-blog]

@wrathfillcd

aston was hurting. he just needed to feel something. what, he didn’t know. just anything. he had left the kids with his parents for the night and gone for a walk. of course, the walk was to clear his mind, and it must have worked. he found himself outside the moon motel. he had frequented it often in the past few years, it was no surprise his feet had just taken him there. with one last drag of his cigarette, aston flicks it onto the ground, pressing his heel against it to put it out. the smoke billows behind him as he steps inside. the contrast in temperature is almost biting, but the warmth is a comfort. he hasn’t been inside the motel in months, but it all feels the exact same and he almost feels at home there. he almost feels lost, though, unsure of where he should be, what he should do. he spots a familiar face in the form of axel and he relaxes a little. perhaps coming inside was a mistake, but at the very least, he could say hi to an old friend. he dodges another couple of guys who seem to know their way around perfectly and he laughs to himself. he must have looked like that to guys before when he could visit. his hand rests against the small of axel’s back as he settles beside him. “are you free for the evening?” his tone is teasing, but whether he is joking or not, the decision is yet to be made. 

[hcneycakc-blog]

@wrathfillcd

it had only been a couple of weeks since adelaine had passed. she had always told aston that he couldn’t add her name to his collection of ink until she died. the thought had always been a little too morbid for aston to focus on, but now that she had died, he wanted to find a way to honour her. and what better way than to have her name inked alongside their children’s? aston was very particular about his tattoos, only trusting sofia to do them properly. there wasn’t a single tattoo on his body that hadn’t been done by sofia. the first had just been a fluke, a lucky win where she was free. since then, he hadn’t even entertained the idea of another using a needle on his skin. he placed a takeout bag and cup in front of her with a grin. “i grabbed you a burger from the diner. i didn’t know if you’d be hungry or not. got a milkshake, too. go ahead, you can say it. i’m your favourite client.” 

[hcneycakc-blog]

@icegods

there’s only a few ways this could go. aston is entirely unsure of what the best way even is. he shouldn’t even have been doing this, but he didn’t need it potentially coming out at a later date. nobody knew what he had done. he had made sure of that. maybe there was some blood still at the scene of the crime, but there was blood everywhere in town. he was sure his own blood would be covering some part of the ground in valdez. but, in the interest of full transparency, he wanted to be the one to tell jason he had killed thomas. it was already going to be bad, but imagine if he found out from somebody else. god, that would make everything a lot harder to deal with. there had been plenty of people around when he had gotten there, but he had taken jason somewhere private. this was probably the last thing he needed but aston was a loyal man, he would do anything for his leader. except, it seemed, give up the opportunity to be the one who killed the man who hurt the only two women he had ever cared for. 

“thank you for giving me a minute of your time, jason.” ever the polite man. his mother would be so proud. as long as she did not hear the next words that left his mouth. “i won’t apologise for my actions, but i do want to be completely honest with you. in a few days, i’m sure you’ll hear that thomas is missing.” he’s not even sure what thomas did in the gang, he just knew that he had stepped entirely out of line with aston. killing adelaine had been the first mistake. hurting brooklyn had been the second. and his last. he did not die honourably and he should not have. it was an eye for an eye. aston believed so wholly in that and there was nothing jason could say to him that would make him wish he had not done this. “he won’t be coming back. he’s dead”. there is little remorse in his voice as he speaks. these two words could potentially seal his fate with the savages. his loyalty to the gang had never been questioned before, but this could put him in jeopardy. sure, he had been having his doubts since the night at the casino, but that should have been expected. he lost someone so close to him and it shook him to his core. but the savages were his family, regardless of who he lost or hurt on the way. they had been there with him through so much and that was what kept him there.