#like there were no minutes left and Emily snuck that in there

[feelingtheaster99]

I CANNOT believe the first (I think???) player character X player character romance of the intrepid heroes cast is within the final few moments of the Neverafter finale, between an ADULT Ylfa and Pinocchio

[illdowhatiwantthanks]

hii can u please write an emily x reader fic where emily sees readers sh scars for the first time? and kisses them or smt? if not don’t worry :))

Of course! :) Thanks so much for the request! I hope you enjoy!

Tracing You

Emily Prentiss x fem!reader Warnings: past self-harm, mental illness, trauma, implied sexual assault/abuse (nothing graphic though!), mentions of afab body parts, discussions of sex Word Count: 1.6k

Summary: You and Emily have been dating for over a month, and you've still haven't let her get to second base. You're scared she'll see your self-harm scars and run for the hills. But, eventually, you'll have to expose them.

You knew it was coming. You always knew, and you always hated it, hated to cut everything short.

Emily was kissing you hard, passionately, as you both lounged on her couch, and you kissed her back. The movie you’d started earlier was long-forgotten. You loved kissing Emily. You could kiss her forever. You loved the way she pushed her body into yours until she was nearly on top of you, as if she physically couldn’t stand to be apart from you–even one centimeter apart. You loved the way she snuck her tongue into your mouth, somehow gentle and rough at the same time. You loved how her fingers felt against your flushed skin–cool and electric. The way she smiled into you. She gave you butterflies.

But you also knew that any minute now, she’d pull up on your shirt, as if asking for permission. You knew that her hands would sneak a little higher up on your torso, and she’d watch you to make sure you were okay. And you knew that, just like you always did, you’d gently push her hands back down, gently tug your shirt back into place, and continue kissing her like nothing had happened.

But that was the problem–nothing had happened. Nothing would happen because you couldn’t bear to let Emily see what was under your shirt. It wasn’t that you were modest, that you had a hard time with sex. What you had a hard time with were the scars that dotted your breasts like a galaxy, scars that even the best of sports bras couldn’t hide entirely. You wanted Emily and, god knows, she wanted you. But you just knew that she’d see them–see those red streaks painted across you like an oil painting of flames–and one of two things would happen.

She might see them and feel sorry for you. And you’d seen that kind of sorry before. It was the kind of sorry that swallowed relationships whole, that changed the way someone thought about you, looked at you, loved you. And you hated that. You were six years into recovery, no relapses, and you were proud of that. You wanted the people who loved you, who saw you at your most vulnerable, to know the you that you used to be, but to love the you that was now. And so often it seemed that people got stuck on the you who dragged safety pins across your skin. You weren’t her anymore. You’d worked hard not to be.

Even worse, Emily might see the scars and find you disgusting. She’d see that there had been something wrong with you, with your brain. She’d know that at some level, there was still something wrong with you. After all, your trauma, your mental illness–they hadn’t gone away. You had spent a whole lot of years in therapy and on medication to deal with them, but they were still a part of you, a part of your story. They were a part that was hard to look at. Even for you. You found those parts of yourself ugly, believed they deserved to be hidden–much like your scars. How much uglier would they be to Emily? Emily, who wasn’t in your mind, who didn’t know what had come before or during or after, and could only see what was left–the evidence that you were not okay.

Sure enough, a few minutes later, Emily’s fingers slipped under your shirt, tentatively dancing up your torso. You let out a shaky sigh and grabbed her hands in yours, deepening the kiss, hoping it was enough to distract her. But it wasn’t. Not this time.

She pulled back and watched you with furrowed eyebrows.

“What?” you prompted, flushing and trying to act like nothing was wrong.

She bit at one of her nails as she watched you, and you pulled her hand away to hold it between both of yours.

“Are you…” She hesitated, like she didn’t quite know how to ask. “Do you want to… break up?” She looked sad, scared. And, for your part, you were sure you looked absolutely shocked.

“What!? No! No, Em, of course not!” You ran gentle fingers over her face, trying desperately to communicate that you absolutely didn’t want to break up and would, in fact, like to never, ever break up.

“You just…” She sighed, picking at her fingernails again. “I love making out with you, but you never want to go any further. And I get it if you’re not ready, that’s completely fine. It’s just… it’s been a while, and I want to make sure you’re not here because… you know, because you feel like you have to be.”

You stared at your hands. You felt like your guilt might swallow you whole. Here you’d thought you were playing it cool, but realistically, what would have been the end game? Never having sex with Emily? Never letting her see your body? You’d been in relational limbo for over a month now, and it had been stupid, so stupid, to assume there wouldn’t be any consequences. She thought you didn’t like her! She thought you weren’t as into her as she was into you! And it was exactly the opposite–you were so into her that it scared you, so into her that it was scarier than it had ever been to show your scars. The thought of losing her–already, even so early on–was terrifying.

“Emily,” you started, rubbing your thumb over her hand. “I’m here because I want to be. I really like you.”

She blinked, thinking harder. “Am I… am I doing something? You know, that makes you… not want to–”

“Oh god,” you groaned, burying your head in your hands. “No, Em. No. You’re beautiful. You’re perfect. I do want to.”

You sighed and looked at her. Her head bent, hands worried. Your self-consciousness was making Emily self-conscious. And you really couldn’t bear that she’d think less of herself because of you.

“Take off my shirt,” you said, bluntly.

“What?”

“Take it off. It’s okay.”

Emily fiddled with a stray piece of upholstery on the couch. “I don’t know, Y/N, this doesn’t seem like the right mood for—”

“Emily,” you pleaded, squeezing one of her hands. You knew if you didn’t do it now, you might never. “Please.”

Emily watched you with concern, but did as you asked, slowly lifting your shirt up and over your head.

You looked up to the ceiling, exhaling shakily, willing yourself not to cry. She would see them. She was seeing it. She saw them. You didn’t know if you could ever look her in the eyes again. You didn’t even know if you could look at yourself.

You felt Emily’s hand press gently into yours, but you still couldn’t bring yourself to look at her. Then you felt one of her fingers, cold for the shock of it more than the actual temperature, at the top of your breasts, the part that peeked out from the bra, littered with angry, red lines that had only somewhat faded over the years.

You felt her trace one of the scars, the whole, long trajectory of it, with her finger, and then when she reached the end, she leaned forward and planted a kiss at its zenith. Your breath caught in your throat as she continued following the scars, kissing you again and again and again until–though you’d worked so hard not to–you had stray tears leaking down the side of your face.

Emily grasped your face in her hands, so gently, so gingerly, and lowered your head, using her thumbs to brush the tears from under your eyes. You still couldn’t meet her eyes.

“Y/N, look at me,” she said softly, caressing your face. You finally forced yourself to look into her eyes, and what you saw there surprised you. It wasn’t pity and it wasn’t disgust. It was something new. Admiration and respect. And–maybe, just maybe–love?

“You’re beautiful,” she told you, staring at you pointedly, holding your face so that you couldn’t look away. “You’re beautiful, and that’s all we’re gonna say about it unless you want to talk more.”

“I feel like you should–” you said, your voice breaking a bit as you sniffled. “You should know why and– and when, and–”

“I am happy to listen to anything you want to tell me,” she assured you. “But I don’t want you to feel like you have to. It’s your story, and you can tell me what you want, when you want. Believe me, though,” she said, smiling mischievously. “I don’t need any more information tonight if you’re not ready.”

“Really?” you asked.

Showing the scars had been hard enough. You didn’t really want to talk about your hellish high school and college years, the man who had touched you there and made you want to rip all your skin off, the years of therapy, the relapses, the depression, the medication. You’d tell her. You’d tell her all of it, you knew. But right now, you wanted to reap the rewards of being brave. The rewards being Emily.

Emily nodded and winked at you, then leaned in to brush her lips against your ear. “Y/N,” she whispered. “The only information I needed was that you had boobs under there.”

You blushed and grinned at her, wrapping your arms around her neck and pulling her in for another heated kiss.

When you pulled away, Emily was nearly panting. You smirked. “I showed you mine. It's your turn.”

[weretheones]

All You Got | Part 9

Part 9: Bite My Tongue

Plot: Daryl Dixon hadn’t known much beyond anger and loneliness his whole life, until he found family at the end of the world. Everything he grew to care about was ripped away the day the prison fell; so when he recognized you, an enforcer of his loss, hiding in that cabin, he almost pulled the trigger. But after you end up saving his life, he couldn’t find the indifference to leave you for dead, even if you’d been on the Governor’s side. (Mid-Late Season 4)

Series Masterlist | AO3 Version

Paring: Eventual Daryl Dixon x Reader Word Count: 3.2k Warnings: typical twd content. mentions of death. A/N: im done exams! (and I aced them all, yay!) but then I got sick lol. anyway-- I missed you guys. finally finished this. enjoy<3

“We’re gonna win.”

Brian was confident of that. He spoke with an authority bigger than Pete or Martinez ever had, and it spread through the camp like wildfire. After that quick speech, it didn’t take the others any longer than a half hour to get their gear packed. Knives, guns, more bullets than you’d ever seen before. Mitch even started up his tank, taking the last few drops of gas from the reserve. 

If this didn’t work out, if the prison wasn’t the place Brian promised it would be, you weren’t sure if there would be anything to come back to. The camp had been uprooted in those short thirty minutes, a sudden shift into hostility. And it left the small clearing, once untouched by the brutality of the dead, stripped bare. The soft grass trampled as the cars rolled through and the fire pits nothing but ash. You had a feeling that this would be the last time you saw this place; not quite dread, but not the hope and determination that the others seemed to carry, either. 

You watched as they all loaded their guns, brows furrowed and posture firm. A group of survivors, brought together by happenstance, now soldiers. At least, they pretended to be. 

Across the clearing, a pile of ammo boxes sat on a flimsy fold-out table. Emily packed them one by one into a bag, dark hair pulled into a ponytail and a rifle slung across her back. A small smirk snuck across her face as Mitch quipped something for only her to hear. His eyes flickered from his favourite gun to you, and he didn’t dare flinch when he realized you were already staring their way. Emily’s eyes followed not long after, but that cocky—and threatening— expression she faced you with finally made you look away. 

You took a deep breath and tried to ignore the way your skin itched under their devoted attention. That blue tent you were packing wasn't quite distracting enough, so your eyes kept wandering. It didn't take long for you to find the curious Tara sitting on the bench near you. She’d been packing a bag of her own. It was mostly clothes and food. Provisions. The prison was meant to be your new home, after all. 

Tara glanced between them and you, throwing back a mean glare of her own. Their uncomfortable stares slipped away after that, so you gave her a small but grateful smile. She was new— came with Brian’s crew— but a kind face amongst a group that otherwise felt like strangers. People mostly kept to themselves. Prepping for this fight was the highest camaraderie they’d had. Tara wasn’t exactly immune to it— she had been one of the first to volunteer, after all— but, there still seemed to be a hint of hesitation in her eyes. 

While loading her gun, it seemed to hit her the hardest. She sighed, “We do this, maybe we don’t need to fight anymore.” 

You paused from packing up the last of your tent. Maybe she meant the others, maybe she meant the dead. You weren't sure, and you weren't convinced either. 

“Do you really think that?” 

Her brown eyes widened. 

“You don’t?” 

Whatever small bit of defiance you had slipped away then. You practically crawled back into your shell and tucked your tail.

“I dunno,” you mumbled with a weak shrug. 

“Brian said they were bad people. They don’t even deserve that place,” she said with a waver in her voice. 

“I heard what he said.” You continued packing. “I just…” you trailed off when you noticed Lee walking toward the bench— toward you. Behind his figure, Brian had joined Emily and Mitch, barking some instructions that they happily followed. You met Tara’s unconvinced look again, unable to speak toward her subconscious plea; you couldn’t convince her to retreat. This thing was too far gone. 

Lee had a stern look when he finally made it. He stood firm, a rifle of his own in one hand and one for Tara in the other. He dropped it on the table, then looked you up and down. 

“Where’s your gun?” 

“I, uh—” 

He sighed, and you lost your voice again. The raised tensions had shrunk you; that fear meant to mould you into an obedient soldier only made you feel smaller. 

“No more dancing around this shit. If we don’t fight, we die.” 

Lee held out a pistol. 

“So fight.” 

— 

The last few weeks had been filled with a sinking urge to go back and scream that little doubt to the world. Sleepless nights of wishing you’d just said something. Wondering what the hell made you so meek and afraid that you couldn't even question it— him. Not even to a person as reasonable as Tara seemed.

When the time came, you bit your tongue and complied. Nothing would change that. Nothing could.

And now there were no words left. Just a stinging silence of guilt and hurt burning up the air between you and Daryl, until there was almost nothing left. 

After the bus, he kept driving. You had no clue where. Didn’t have the breath to ask, anyway. 

Every inch of you was heavy, discomfort settling in tense muscles. You held your hands in your lap, controlled the rise and fall of your chest to a slow rhythm, and watched the everlasting stretch of road ahead. It all felt forced. Loud. The seconds between blinks, the slow exhales, and your eyes watching anything but him. 

You weren’t sure how to just be next to the man of stone beside you. 

That stiff tension hadn’t let go of him since it first clouded, and that bottle he was stuffing every bit of grief into hadn’t exploded— yet. You could sense it coming. Could feel the cracks splitter as anger festered inside that heavy chest of his, beating like a drum against his ribs, his lungs, his shut mouth. Begging to get out.

God forbid he let that stubborn, stoic facade fall. 

There hadn’t been a single word since. Only a silent agreement to pile back in the car and then… whatever this was. The bridge of trust between you, padded with fresh bandages and unwavering loyalty, was catching flame. And you could feel Daryl slipping. Feel his grip around your hand loosen as he inched closer to that edge. 

Maybe you weren’t strong enough to hold him, after all.

The sun dipped behind the horizon. Those last golden rays reminded you how sweet the day had started. A brief escape. Dusk stole that kindness and the casual cruelty of this new world weaved its way back in. By the time Daryl finally pressed on the break, the sky had tinted a dark blue. But it wasn't dark enough to stop yet.

You glanced up, eyes still foggy, and tried to settle your vision on the issue ahead. It was like breaking out of a daze— an uncomfortable, suffocating daze that dragged on with every beat of silence. But you couldn’t come up for air just yet. There was another problem to solve first, like always. 

This time it wasn’t a bus, but a large branch blocking your way. The bark was rotted and smaller sticks scattered around. The leaves were dead and dry as bone, and the bigger tree to the left had a stark revelation of lighter wood. The branch must’ve snapped off when the weight got too heavy to carry, some time ago.

Pulled from that daze, you finally had the strength to look at Daryl and with that single glance, you could feel how close he was to snapping, too. White knuckle grip around the steering wheel, lips sewn shut, and narrowed eyes surrounded by tired rings of purple. He looked like a different version of himself. Like Daryl, but muted. Without that slight smile to match it, the curious look in his eye felt cold.

And you swore there was a hint of animosity, too.

He quickly got out of the car and approached the blockage without a word, his crossbow, or you. Only the knife on his hip. 

Not everything had changed; you slowly followed, like usual, and Daryl didn’t waste time. He stomped down on a thicker branch, throwing the broken debris toward the tree line. Again and again. You helped move a couple, but there was a fierce force, built of fury and sorrow, in his work that you simply couldn’t keep up with. He was much faster— angrier— and he’d already moved on to the heavier branches. 

Too heavy. And for the first time since the bus, he let a hint of emotion show: pain. Physical, you’d bet, from the wince that slipped past his tight jaw. His shoulder was still tender, and moving the bodies earlier had already made it swell. 

“Hold up.” 

He ignored those small first words. Ignored the care that rooted them, too. 

Halfway between the rest of the blockage and the forest, you dropped the branch you were moving when he picked up another heavy one. Daryl was plenty stubborn as it was, but the heartbreak from the bus’ loss made him reckless, too. 

“You’ll hurt yourself,” you insisted.

“‘M fine.” 

Ironically, his grip slipped from the branch then. The wood dropped, thumping against the cracking concrete below. That short moment of relief invited your hand to softly land on his good shoulder, a gentle reassurance that you were there to help. 

You barely got out his name before he yanked back. 

“Get your hands off’a me.” 

His rough bark forced you a step back, eyes blown wide with shock and glued on that angry blue in his. Maybe you seemed composed, with that firm stance and even breaths, but it felt like your blood had gone cold in an instant. You had no choice but to stand there and wait for the dust of his outburst to settle. All while your heart was slamming against your ribcage so hard you wondered if it could bruise.

And Daryl seemed to notice it; in that split second, he let his eyes flicker from your shocked and hurt expression to your fingers that wouldn’t stop shaking. After that, he wouldn’t meet your stare.

You watched those angel wings, frayed at the seams, as he picked up the log again. 

There could be virtue in silence. You knew that— but the last few weeks had instilled an urgency in you. A type of anxiety you’d never felt before, second-guessing every moment you let pass. And against perhaps better judgment, you whispered.

“Please. Don’t do this.” 

Daryl knew you didn’t mean the branch anymore. 

He stilled. Shoulders stiff and rigid. At first, you weren’t sure if that meant it had been the right thing or not, but then he dropped the log and turned around, and you certainly knew. 

That look was back again. Mean and abrasive. Only that time, you swore you could see through it— see the pain that manifested into anger just beyond those narrow blue eyes. 

“You don’t ever let up, do ya?” He stepped closer, face reddening and tone cutting. “Told ya ‘m fine.” 

“You don’t seem it.”

“The hell you know ‘bout it?” he snapped.

You swallowed. A painful burn caught in your chest, right where that soothing trust and care had made its home. 

“Rick and that woman,” you practically pleaded, “I told you I saw them, they could’ve—” 

“Right,” he scoffed. 

Whatever anger was stoking that fire inside of him seemed to double at your words. Maybe you didn’t know Daryl as well as you thought because you certainly weren’t saying or doing the right things. 

“And how the hell we gonna find ‘em?” 

“I— I don’t know but there has to be something left—” 

“They’re dead,” he sneered. 

“You don’t know that.” 

“I know your people were huntin’ ‘em down.”

Your face fell.

“Finishin’ what y’all started, huh?” 

Maybe you didn’t know his anger. You’d never been good with that, anyway. People seemed to be set off by you; Mitch, Emily. But Daryl knew you. He proved it, right then, as the aftermath of his words burned worse than any cut could.

He always saw you right down to the damn bone. Could pick you apart with his bare hands if he wanted. Even if you had tried to hide the anguish of the knife he stuck in your gut— “your people”— he would’ve seen through it. So you let the confusion, the shock, and the regret, all surface.

Of course, he saw it. Your reaction— your pain. The way you didn’t even try to mask it. Silence stretched, only Daryl’s heavy breaths and a soft breeze of the wind. And as the seconds passed, without a retort to fill the tense air between you, the intensity of that mean stare flickered out like the candles you once warmed the cabin with. But that hint of regret was nothing more than a bandaid over a stab wound; it didn’t soothe the gut-wrenching ache that was reaching up around your throat or prickling your eyes with tears. 

Screw saying the right thing. 

“We have no idea if they ever even came across one of your friends.” You stepped forward, but you couldn’t stop the shake in your voice or hands. “And they are not my people. I killed them, or did you forget?” 

Fire was still burning the tip of his tongue, cruel words threatening to rip free, and if it’d been a year ago, they would’ve. But now, glaring at your thin expression and the glimmer of pain in your eye, he hesitated. 

You took that time to make another point, even firmer than the last. 

“You’re wrong.” 

He didn't curse you out, but his exhausted scoffed was almost as insulting.

“You just saw your people dead, Daryl. You’re scared and—“ 

“I ain't scared’a nothin’,” he growled. 

You bit your lip. God, he was stubborn. 

Stubborn, fiery, and hurt. 

You peeled back, drowning out the throbbing pain of that wound in your own chest with a heavy dose of empathy, and reiterated slowly, “You’re wrong.” 

Another breeze of wind rushed past the two of you, drifting through that shrinking space between his heaving chest and your assertive stare. 

It carried a rustle in the trees too, one that localized on a spot of shifting branches and fluttering leaves to your left.

Daryl looked first.

The break of his glare welcomed a slight ease to that thick air. You took a deep breath and steadied yourself as a walker broke through the woods. Its yellow eyes were already targeted at the fleshy, warm body of the man who’d lead it there, with those lively lungs and sharp tongue. 

He approached the walker with that same heaviness about him. Perhaps it was the weight of your lingering stare across his back. His arm raised with the knife, then stabbed. Just as the body did, his shoulders slumped. Head bowed as he stared at the crumpled corpse a second too long.

In that same second, your throat tightened, and the tears threatened to spill again. A devastating ache formed in your chest because you could practically see Daryl's resolve crumble. From the bus’ discovery to the roadblock to this— losing every last bit of hope, slowly but surely, until even that trust and care, built over nights by candlelight and soft promises to fix your wrongdoings, to fix his shoulder, to fix him, felt dull.

You thought of the forgiveness he’d once spared, only to be pulled right back down into that festering pit of ugly guilt and regret. 

Blame. 

Daryl took his time to clean the blade of dark blood before sheathing it. And as the moment stretched, staring at the broad shoulders you’d patched up over and over, your thoughts began to pick up speed. Worries drumming your heart against your ribs, again. 

You swallowed, shook your head as if it might clear, and climbed into the driver’s seat. But the unease followed— it always did. 

What if this was it? 

In the rearview mirror, you caught sight of the dead walker lying on the road. Daryl’s hunched figure missing. And the race of your heart came to a lurching stop, then. 

Would he really—?

The passenger door opened. Without a word, he sat, and your heart started again. 

No. 

He wouldn't. 

You steered through the new opening, tires crunching the remnants of branches, and continued down the clear road ahead.

It was quiet again. This time, though, you weren't fidgeting in your seat or dying to get a glance at the man beside you. No. You just drove until the stars came out.

The side of the road was as good a spot as any, you thought. Daryl didn’t seem to have an objection, either; his mouth was still in that same pensive line when you finally turned toward him. His elbow rested on the edge of the window as he chewed on his thumb, heavy eyes fallen. There was no doubt he could feel your stare burn into his side, that he heard you turn, or could feel the tension heighten as you waited for him to meet your look. But he wouldn’t, for whatever reason. 

Would your tired expression, dwindled from weeks of guilt, trauma, and physical exhaustion, set him off again? Or would it break him down, deeper? 

With nothing more than a heavy sigh, you fell against the headrest. You stared into the dark world ahead, only visible by the short reach of the car’s interior light. It burned your eyes, shining down at the nasty, ugly tension that had settled between you and the man you trusted so fiercely.

You turned off the light.

“It's my turn for first watch.” 

Even in the dark, you could see his hand finally drop from his chin. His arm stretched, resting across the window ridge. 

“Ain’t tired.” 

He finally spoke. Two little words that made you tighten your grip around the steering wheel in a split second of frustration. You finally had the voice to speak, after years of biting your tongue, and yet… you had no idea what you needed to say. 

Want was another story. Because even after everything, good and bad, there was no reason you deserved that jab about the gas station. Not when it’d been you that pulled him, bloody and half dead, from that mess. That nursed him back to health and never said a word about his loose lips, spilling regrets about his own (failed) search for the Governor. Never asked him that dreaded thought that’d been lingering in the back of your head— if he’d only forgiven you for the prison because he was too busy blaming himself. 

You wanted a lot. Wanted to go back and change the way things played out. To save more people, to find Daryl and the prison before it fell, to— 

But you were tired. Too tired for wants, tonight. 

“Fine,” you sighed. “Wake me up when you are.” 

-> part 10

A/N: so uh. this part was oddly hard to finish, even if I knew exactly what I wanted to happen. but its done! and I hope y'all liked it. its def sad to see them fighting again, after everything :'(

if you’re reading this, thank you! I hope you enjoyed this chapter. please feel free to leave feedback, it helps so much and I love to read it. have a lovely day <3

[leftoverenvy]

Tastes Like Sugar (ch. 30)

Summary: India Mae, or Indi, is a music major, struggling to pay bills, tuition, work, and make good grades.  Emily Prentiss is a BAU profiler, as well as a DC socialite thanks to her huge family fortune.  The two enter into a mutually beneficial arrangement: Emily will pay for Indi's school if Indi accompanies Emily to her social functions for a few months, posing as her girlfriend.  As weeks go by, the lines between their arrangement and their true feelings start to blur.  But money can't buy love, right?

Pairing: India Mae Banks x Emily Prentiss; OC x Emily Prentiss

Warnings: smut; sugar baby relationships; age gap (16 years - but all over 18)

Word Count: 3.7k

Read on Wattpad | Ao3 | Previous Chapters

Taglist: @ssa-sapphic 🧸; @5raysofsunshine 🌮; @reidselle 🦭; @swiftfiles 🐝💚; @gaelic-symphony 🎻 ; @sadgirlml 🌻💌; @hotchs-bitch 🦆 ; @multiverse-mxdness ; @madelineleong ; @scorpsik 🎨 ; @heidss

A/n: Watch out for POV shifting in this chapter!

Chapter 30 - Reconciliation

Indi's POV: I stared at the ceiling, my eyes uncomfortable from the ceiling fan drying them out. It was an insignificant ache compared to the one in my heart. Alone I laid. Aching for Emily's arms. With each whirl of the fan I was reminded of each minute passing without fixing what I had messed up.

My night in the city was horrible. It was unbearable to go to bed knowing I had ruined everything with Emily. And as I laid in my tiny bed in my tiny DC apartment, I couldn't help but be annoyed by the sound. Cars were constantly honking, people shouting at all hours of the night. How had I ever preferred this cacophony of meaningless noise? I missed the peaceful babble of the creek and Emily's soft breathing next to me.

As I continued to watch the fan swirl dust particles above my head, I couldn't help the tears that leaked from the corners of my eyes. How could I have left all of that behind? What did I stand to gain by running back to my old life in DC? But Emily was gone. She didn't stop me; she wanted me gone. I had overstayed my welcome in her life.

This was only supposed to be temporary I reminded myself.

Penelope let me be for the night, asking minimal questions about why I had returned home in shambles and tucking me into bed. The only measure of time was the rotations of the ceiling fan and, hours later, the sun peaking over the horizon. Still, I could not sleep. Penelope snuck around the apartment as she got ready for work, trying not to disturb me. Still, I remained tucked away in my bed staring at nothing.

When Penelope returned home from work, she burst through my door without knocking. "What's wrong?" she demanded. I didn't bother to look away from the ceiling, the evening light catching the crystal on the end of the fan pull, refracting the light. "Seriously. Talk to me. Derek said Emily called in today. Spill it."

A breath caught in the back of my throat. Why should Emily take off work? I didn't dare let myself believe it was because she was just as upset as me. But it hurt to think that she was hurting.

Penelope moved into the room and sat at the edge of my bed. "Indi you cannot stay holed up in your room sulking forever. What happened?"

I sat up, tucking my legs up to my chest and curling my arms around them. I opened my mouth to respond but I had no idea how to explain what happened. I laid my head on my knees and sighed.

"Did she touch you without permission?" 

I whipped my head up in horror. "Of course not!"

"Then what? Take your money away?"

I shook my head. "It's nothing like that, Pen."

"Talk to me, Indi. I hate seeing you like this."

"She told me she loved me," I started.

"And that's bad because…?" 

I sighed. "It isn't like how the tabloids have been showing it. This was all just supposed to be a way to get through school. I wasn't supposed to…" I trailed off unsure how much to share.

"You fell for her."

"Bad. I just don't belong in her world," I lamented. "I'm not good for her. And now she's never going to know how I feel because I left all because of a stupid car."

Penelope crinkled her eyebrows in confusion. "You lost me…"

"My car died. And Emily took care of everything. Like, she had it towed and had a mechanic look at it. And it was so so sweet of her. I was just so stressed about paying that bill so I was already on edge," I said without taking a breath. "And then when I got home from school yesterday, Emily had already bought me a brand new fucking Audi. Can you believe that? She's just throwing tens of thousands of dollars away, spending that kind of money on me without a second thought."

I paused, trying to figure out why this had been such an issue for me at all. "I just got overwhelmed. I'm not worth it, ya know? And I just got trapped in my head. Because how could Emily, perfect Emily, want anything to do with me? I'm-"

"But that isn't for you to decide, is it?" Penelope interrupted. "Shouldn't Emily get to decide what's worth it? To have in her life? To spend money on?"

"Yes," I whispered. "Yes, she should. I just can't fathom why she'd choose me. And I flipped out yesterday."

"Nothing's unfixable, Indi."

Tears leaked out of my eyes, overwhelmed with sadness again. "She didn't come after me, Pen." I pawed angrily at my tears, angry that they revealed how vulnerable I was truly feeling. "She just let me leave because she doesn't want this anymore." It all felt hopeless. Even though Penelope had said anything could be fixed, I just couldn't believe that this could. I'd messed up too badly.

"Did she tell you that?" she asked knowingly.

"She didn't have to." Penelope raised one eyebrow at me. 

Before I could respond, Penelope exclaimed, "Wait! If your car died, how did you get here?"

I turned my head to stare at the car key sitting on my bedside table. I laughed dryly at the irony. Four, silver rings of the Audi logo shined back at me mockingly. I reached over and flashed the new key to Penelope.

"You owe Emily one hell of an apology," Penelope joked.

______________________________

Emily's POV: When the garage door closed after Indi, I flopped on the couch in defeat. She wouldn't even look at me as she scurried out of the house, bag in tow. And why should she? I had overstepped. I had scared her by telling her how I felt. We never agreed this was for love. How stupid I was to let my guard down and fall for her. After all, we had agreed what this was from the start. How could I expect her to feel the same for someone sixteen years older than her?

But how could I expect to be the same without her?

I looked around my empty house. She was everywhere; there wasn't a single inch of this place that wasn't marked by her. I thought about how on this very couch, we shared our first kiss, her thighs straddling mine. I let my eyes wander over to the kitchen island where countless times I had picked her up and sat her on the counter because I just couldn't stand to go a second longer without her lips on mine. I stared at the piano imagining all the times she sat there and how beautiful she was when she immersed herself in the music. Now, the only sound was the deafening tick of the clock passing each second she spent speeding away from me back towards her real home.

I couldn't stand to stare at the piano any longer. Just days ago she had sat on that very bench and played a song written for me.  I shook my head at how foolish I had been to read more into it than was there. I remembered how mesmerized I had been by her fingers trailing over the keys, and how it led me to trail my own down her body as a thank you. 

I stormed out of the room, sick at the memory. Sick at the realization she'd never be mine to touch like that again. 

But she followed me like a ghost in my own home. When I laid down to sleep later that evening, I could still smell her on my sheets. I inhaled deeply, trying to absorb as much as I could. I wasn't one to cry, but Indi's absence left me desolate. Tears stained her pillow as I buried my face in it to be as close to her as possible. This was the closest I'd ever get to her again.

I barely slept that night, tossing and turning, mad at everything. Mad at the cold, empty sheets next to me. Mad at the universe for introducing such an angel into my life and then cruelly ripping her away. Mad at the crickets chirping away outside preventing me from falling asleep. Above all else, mad at myself for letting her walk out the door without protest.

All night, I wrestled with what it meant that she left. But she had left in the Audi. Was that her silent message that she'd be back? That she didn't hate me? I didn't dare let myself think it might mean she loved me too. But she left. Of course she wasn't coming back. She got what she wanted; she didn't need me anymore.

My phone ringing startled me awake around 6:15. Groggily, I rolled over to grab it, wondering how I had fallen asleep with such a heavy heart. "Hello?" I mumbled.

"Em!" JJ greeted. It sounded so wrong out of her mouth. She didn't say it right. It wasn't sweet like when Indi said it. It almost sounded condescending, even as a greeting at six in the morning. "We have a case."

I groaned, flopped on my back and put my hand over my eyes.  No no no.  I couldn't leave the state now. I had to make sure India was sure in her decision. Not to mention, I'd be absolutely useless right now. "No," I whispered. "I can't make this one. I'll call Hotch to tell him."

"What's wrong?" she asked. My skin crawled at the entitlement in her voice – like she deserved to know anything about my personal life.

"Nothing, JJ," I sighed. "Just leave it alone."

"I know something's wrong." Her voice softened, "You can talk to me; I'm still always here for you." 

To shuffle her off the phone, I placated her, "Thanks, JJ. I'll keep that in mind." 

"Is it her?" she asked with distaste. I refused to answer. "Look, we all went along with this for a while because you seemed happy. But what are you doing? You should be with someone a little more appropriate…you know, for your age."

A tear leaked from the corner of my eye.  I know, I thought. Because India deserved someone who wasn't always jet setting across the country, someone who wasn't near two decades older than her. But there wasn't anyone better suited for me. 

Changing the subject to avoid any further conversation with JJ, I reminded her, "I'll tell Hotch I'm calling out for this case," and hung up before she had a chance to say anything else.

I quickly sent a text to Hotch: Need time off. Calling out for this case.

It wouldn't have been unfair for him to question why, but I was thankful when he sent a simple: OK. I'm here for anything you may need.

I exhaled a sigh of relief. I tried to fall back asleep, but was incapable of shutting my mind off. Was it a mistake to call out? What if India didn't come back? Was I just supposed to call out the rest of my life waiting for her to love me back?

I laid in bed another forty-five minutes waiting for sleep to claim me again. I squeezed my eyes closed tightly, begging my mind to shut down long enough to get some sleep. But the harder I tried to quiet my thoughts, the more insistent they became. 

I had to do something – anything – to distract my mind. I rolled out of bed and wandered into my office to draw. I grabbed my favorite sketchbook and pencil set. Immediately, my hand started flying over the page. Quick, dark, angry lines. I filled page after page of a dark horizon, storm clouds looming large over a tree line. I flipped to a clean page, begging myself to draw something less dramatic.

I considered drawing Indi, but I thought seeing her face looking back at mine, even if just a sketch, would hurt too badly. I sighed and set the pencil down. Sketching wasn't going to cut it today. I needed an outlet for this boiling anger inside me. I quickly tied my hair back, grabbed my gun and left for Quantico. I needed to hit the range.

Once I got there, I tried to sneak in the side door, curious if the team had left or if I'd run into them in the building. That would be horribly awkward to explain. 

Once I made it to the shooting range safely, I clipped a paper target up and slid it back into place.  The lingering smell of gunpowder was calming, familiar. I widened my stance, and lifted my gun, rapidly firing several rounds in a row. Before I knew it, I had emptied my clip into the chest of the target. 

I fired bullet after bullet and loaded clip after clip, tearing the paper target to shreds. But none of my anger faded. 

Who was I really angry with? When I tried to parse it out, I realized I wasn't angry at all. I was devastatingly, crushingly hurt. Was my love so repugnant that India would rather leave than be loved by me? Is that why everyone in my life always ended up leaving?

Of all the heartbreak I had had, none hurt like this. It was as if when she packed up her belongings, she reached in my chest and took my heart with her. It didn't matter though, because everything I had – everything I was – was India. Whether she returned my affection or not didn't matter. I would never love anyone like I did India Mae Banks.

I felt my phone vibrate in my pocket. Hopeful it was Indi, I nearly dropped my gun to empty my hands as quickly as possible. Disappointment crashed over me when I saw it wasn't Indi calling, but my mother. I considered sending it to voicemail. After all, how could I possibly endure a conversation with JJ and my mother in the same day? Ultimately, I thought a small part of me wanted to talk to my mother. I longed to have that close relationship where we could talk about things like this.

"Hi, mom," I answered softly.

"Emily! It's wonderful to hear from you. How have you been?"

"I'm well," I lied. "And you?"

"All good, not much is new, I'm afraid. How are things with India?"

My breath caught in the back of my throat, tears welling in my eyes at just thinking about talking about her. "Uh, well." I bit at my nail, residue of gun powder bitter on my tongue. "She's…"

"What's wrong?" she asked gently.

"I guess we've just run our course," I lamented. I couldn't get into it all because I refused to tell my mother India had just been a ruse to prevent her from nagging me about being single.

"Oh I doubt that very much. You two looked so in love the last time I saw you." My eyebrows raised in surprise. She had been incredibly unpleasant the entire evening of the gallery opening. I had thought she hated Indi based on the age gap alone. "Emily, I know you probably won't really tell me what's going on – you've always been so closed off. But if she's important, don't let your walls and pride become a barrier to you patching things up.

"You have a hard job," she continued. "You always have. You deserve whoever makes you happy."

Tears streamed down my face. "I don't deserve her," I whispered.

"Do you wonder if she feels the same? Emily, we come from money, status. You're a beautiful and intelligent woman." My thoughts reeled. My mother had never had a kind word to say, preferring to highlight all my shortcomings as a daughter, instead. "Isn't it possible she thinks she isn't good for you?"

"I'll think about it, okay?"

"Don't think about it too long, or you'll lose the one you love."

When she disconnected the call, my heart was pounding in my chest. Could Indi be feeling as insecure as me? As much as I hated to admit it, my mother was right: I needed to put my pride aside. I couldn't give up so easily, sulking alone and feeling sorry for myself. I had to give it one more shot; I had pouted long enough. I wouldn't let her leave us behind like this. This wouldn't be the end of us – we were too special to end like this. I wouldn't let us fizzle out all because I was too proud to ask how she felt about us. I quickly cleaned my gun and re-holstered it, eager to get into the city.

I scrolled through India and I's first messages to confirm her old address, silently praying she did actually go back to her old apartment. Once I punched it into the GPS, I peeled out of the parking lot.  Please be home. When I parked, I practically ran up to her door, cursing myself for not rehearsing the best way to apologize to her. Before I could talk myself out of it, I knocked three times.

______________________________

Indi's POV: "Just go back, Indi," Penelope encouraged.

"I can't!" I whined. "She probably hates me now. I left after she told me she loved me."

"I guarantee you she doesn't hate you."

Petulantly, I asked, "How would you know?"

"Because!" she huffed. "Derek talks about what a change he's seen in Emily. You don't know how she was at work and how she is now. He said she just lights up when she's texting now. No doubt that's because of you."

Butterflies fluttered lightly in my abdomen. Could it be true? I snapped back to reality. "But that was before!" More softly, "I've ruined that now."

"At least call her," Penelope tried again. She had been trying for an hour to get me to reach out to Emily, gently reminding me how stupid I had been.

"What would I even say? I messed up so bad."

"Tell her how you feel. Tell her-" Three quick knocks interrupted Penelope.

I quirked an eyebrow at her. "Who's that?"

Excitement lit Penelope's eyes. "I have a hunch," she said knowingly. A confusing melange of emotions welled up inside me. Excitement that it could be Emily coming to fix things. Dread that it could be Emily returning my belongings. Anticipated disappointment that it wasn't Emily at all. I smoothed my frizzy curls down and tucked stray hairs behind my ears, certain my hair looked wretched after laying in bed all day. "Get it," she hissed, gesturing to the door.

Before my nerves could talk myself out of it, I pulled the door open, gasping at seeing Emily. For a moment, we just stared at each other, drinking the other in. My heart clenched at seeing her; she was so beautiful. I wouldn't survive hearing her tell me this was over. I looked down, begging my eyes to stay dry.

"I'm sorry!" we blurted at the same time. I wrinkled my brows in confusion. 

"What do you have to be sorry for?" I asked.

"It was too much. I didn't mean to overwhelm you. And I didn't think about how a big purchase would make you feel." I couldn't say anything, overwhelmed by her extending a peace offering, by giving me a second chance. "I'm also sorry for telling you I loved you. We haven't talked enough about our relationship for that to have been fair to just spring on you."

I chuckled ruefully. Emily Prentiss was truly the perfect woman and there wasn't even a small part of me that deserved her. Before I dove in head first, I needed to try one more time to get her to see that she deserved so much more than me. I couldn't help it. I knew that I wouldn't be able to give her up a second time. "You're too good for me, Emily. I don't belong with you. You're so perfect, and I'm just…not," I finished lamely. "I'm so flawed. What could you possibly want with me?"

She cupped my face, a gentle smiling playing at her lips. "Baby, I know you're not perfect. But you're perfect for me. And I want it all with you. I need you." She looked deeply in my eyes, begging me to understand. "Please come home." 

The way she said 'come home' broke my heart. So achingly sweet and desolate. A tear escaped, and she swiped it gently with her thumb. Maybe it was possible she needed me as much as I needed her. 

All I had ever wanted was home, and Emily had become home for me. I fled Washington trying to escape memories of home and family so brutally taken from me, but I'd been so unhappy in DC without home or family. Then I had found both in Emily, and by some miracle, I hadn't ruined it. She still wanted it too. "Yes," I agreed.

An enormous smile slowly spread across her face, showing her perfect teeth. It made my heart skip a beat, how astonishingly beautiful she was. "Yeah?" she asked incredulously.

I pulled her face down to mine for a kiss, silently promising my future to her. She tried to deepen it, her smile preventing her from succeeding. I pulled back, breaking our kiss. "No," she whined, pressing her lips back to mine, her hand wrapping around my waist to pull me closer.

"Wait," I said arching my back slightly over her arm so I could look deeply in her eyes. "I love you, too." If it were possible, her smile grew even wider. "I love you so much, Emily Prentiss." She pressed her forehead against mine and sighed deeply. I wrapped my arms around her neck. "And I'm so sorry. I won't run again. I'm so sorry I left. I love you, Em."

She started kissing me in earnest, pushing me back against the door jamb. Her hands kneaded at my hips, pulling me tightly against her as her tongue laved at mine. "I'm so sorry, angel," she whispered between kisses. "Please don't leave again."

My heart broke at her request. "I swear, babe. Never again," I whispered against her lips.

Continue to next chapter

[sequinsmile-x]

Mosaic Broken Hearts

Emily and Aaron have been together for months and nobody knows about them. That should make 'pretending' to be a couple to catch an unsub easy, right?

-x-

Look, I got massively carried away...is anyone surprised??

-x-

Words: 5.5k

Warnings: Brief mentions of injury

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

“Are you awake?” 

Emily’s response is a groan as she rolls over to face him, pressing her face into his shoulder as she throws her arm over his waist.

“Unfortunately.” 

Aaron chuckles as he holds her closer, pressing his lips to the top of her head, “I love how grumpy you are in the mornings,” he says, his voice rasping from not being used overnight. She grumbles and tightens her hold on him, muffling curse words in at least two languages against his t-shirt before she pulls away just enough to look up at him. 

“And I can’t believe I fell in love with a morning person,” she replies, narrowing her eyes at him before she snuggles back into his chest, “Now be quiet, the alarm hasn’t gone off yet and I’m making the most of my time before it does.” 

He suppresses a laugh as he looks at the nightstand and the time on the clock. It was less than five minutes until the alarm would go off, giving them enough time to wake up properly before she snuck back into her room to get ready. He sneaks his hand under the t-shirt she was wearing, one that used to belong to him, and he runs his palm up and down her back, her skin soft beneath his. 

“Not fair,” she mumbles, sinking deeper into his embrace. She presses her face into his neck, inhaling the scent that was uniquely him, “You’re going to send me back to sleep and the alarm is going off in four minutes.” 

“Three minutes actually,” he replies, chuckling when she tickles his ribs lightly in retribution before squeezing him tighter, “Sorry, sweetheart. Duty calls.” 

“Duty is stupid,” she grumbles as she yawns, sounding petulant in a way she would deny if he brought it up when she was no longer half asleep, “Let’s just lay here forever.” 

“You could always sleep in your own room,” he suggests half-heartedly, not missing how she holds him slightly tighter again, “You wouldn’t have to sneak back before the others wake up.” 

At first, the secrecy had been practical. Something that allowed them to figure out what they wanted their relationship to look like without the opinions of anyone else. Both of them had been hurt, fractured by their pasts in a way that had once seemed irreversible, but they found each other. Helped each other repair the damage left behind by others, cracks stitched together with gold. Still visible to anyone who cared to look, but beautiful. It’s how they found themselves still keeping their relationship a secret almost nine months after their initial date when a conversation on one of her bad days turned into dinner and then a kiss at her front door. Jack and Jessica knew and had done for a long time, both delighted in a way that had taken Aaron aback slightly, a knowing glint in both of their eyes that made him wonder if they’d spoken about it.

The team didn’t know, and it had got to the point where when they found out there would be an issue. Aaron knew Emily was worried about their reactions. Secrets had almost torn the team apart before and even though this was a good thing, the most fulfilling relationship either of them had ever truly had, it would be met with some apprehension from their friends. 

It’s why they snuck into each other's rooms when they were away on cases. The alarm was set earlier than it would need to be if they slept separately, something neither of them would enjoy doing, so they could be back in their own rooms before Derek left his room for the gym first thing. He had a tendency to knock on Emily’s door on the way past, always wanting company whilst he worked out. 

Emily hums before tilting her head back to look up at him, smiling sleepily as she cups his face, her thumb scratching at the stubble that had formed overnight. 

“Sadly, I sleep much better next to you,” she says as her smile widens, “Something about your giant overly warm body comforts me.” 

“Glad to be of service,” he deadpans, turning his head to kiss her palm, “Nice to know that’s what you keep me around for.” 

She laughs and shifts, throwing her leg over his lap so she can move to straddle him. He automatically puts his hands on her hips, holding her in place as she leans down to kiss him. He brushes her hair out of her face and holds her in place.

“You have other uses,” she mumbles against his lips in between kisses, “I guess.” She squeals slightly, another thing she’d deny later, as he rolls them over pressing her into the mattress before he leans down to kiss her again. 

His lips are just about to touch hers when the alarm sounds, making them both groan as he presses his forehead into hers before reaching over to turn it off. He leans down to kiss her, much more softly than he had initially intended and then pulls back to smile down at her. 

“We’d better get going, sweetheart.” 

She huffs and stamps her lips against his as she sits up, stretching her tired body as she slips out from under the covers. 

“A morning person and a stickler for the rules,” she says as she stands, running her hand through his hair as she winks at him, “You’re lucky you’re so hot.” 

___

“It feels like we’re getting nowhere,” Dave complains, leaning back in his chair as he looks at the board, “The victimology is random. Apart from the fact the victims are couples and were last seen at the same location, nothing matches up.”

“Different races, different socio-economic status. Different ages,” Spencer reels off, looking through all the photos, “And they manage to kidnap them both from the alley next to the club, keep them for three days and then dispose of the bodies just outside of town.” 

“It’s definitely more than one unsub,” Derek says, pacing back and forth in the conference room they’d set up in, “One guy couldn’t do all of this.” 

Emily sighs and looks at her watch, “Tonight would be right on schedule for them to take their next victims,” she says, her eyes meeting Aaron’s across the room, flashing him a quick but comforting smile, “So we need to do something.” 

“We could go in undercover,” Dave suggests, looking at the rest of the team, “Send in a couple of people posing as a couple, and see if we can lure the unsubs out.” 

“That’s a good idea,” JJ says, crossing her arms over her chest, “But I don’t think any of the locals would be up to it, plus the unsubs probably know what they look like.” 

“It definitely should be us if we’re going to do it,” Aaron agrees, and Derek and Dave smirk at him.

“Is that you volunteering, Hotch?” Derek asks, raising his eyebrow at him.

“I’m happy to do it,” he replies, “The rest of you can be around the club too, keeping an eye on things. You’ll have to stick close by, we’d have to look like civilians so we can’t both go in armed.” 

“Sounds like a good idea,” Dave says, stepping up to Aaron and patting him on the shoulder, “Whose going to be the lucky lady?” He asks teasingly, looking back and forth between JJ and Emily. 

Before anyone else can say anything Spencer pipes up, his voice loud in the otherwise quiet room. 

“Emily.” 

Everyone looks at him, and she is grateful for the brief distraction, feeling like the way everyone had been staring at her could expose everything she’d been keeping secret for months. 

“What?” She asks, directing her question at Spencer and doing everything in her power not to look at Aaron. 

“You should go with Hotch undercover. You’re more convincing as a couple aesthetically, and are a closer match in age,” he explains, only realising what he’s said when he hears it, his eyes widening slightly, “No offence.” 

“None taken,” Emily deadpans, not missing the smirk on JJ’s face, “You’re right though, I’ll go,” she’s grateful for her lifetime of political training as she manages to look at Aaron casually. “I have something I can wear.” 

Aaron is pleased he’s is good enough at his job that he doesn’t physically react, but he feels his stomach flip at the mention of it, suddenly unsure how he was going to control himself around his gorgeous girlfriend when she was dressed up. It was hard at the best of times, something ethereal about her always drew him in. Her smile and a quick whiff of her perfume enough to make him forget where they were sometimes, forcing him to control himself in busy police stations across the country. 

“Sounds like a plan,” he confirms, “We’ll go back to the hotel so we can get ready, and we’ll all meet at the club.” 

“What are you going to wear, Hotch?” Derek asks, looking suspiciously back and forth between the two of them. Aaron frowns and looks down at his suit before looking back up at the team.

“What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?” 

Emily steps towards him, facing him so only he can see her face, “You look like a fed, Hotch,” she says throwing him a wink, “You’re going to have to lose the tie.” 

She smirks at him before she walks away, a spring in her step that lets him know she’s going to spend the evening making everything as hard for him as possible, quite literally if the stirring in his pants was anything to go by. 

It was going to be a long night. 

___

He cannot think of one practical reason she would have packed the dress she meets him outside the club in. It’s dark green and skintight, a similar cut to the one she’d worn years ago to try and trick the Viper. He couldn’t tell if it was better or worse that he now knew what lay underneath. The hills and valleys of her soft skin almost more familiar to him than his own, a map he’d studied so he could follow it even if he lost his sight. 

“Can you take this?” She says, offering her phone out to him, snapping him out of his stupor. “My dress doesn’t have pockets.” 

He nods wordlessly and takes it, putting it in the opposite pocket of his pants to where he kept his phone. 

“Sure,” he replies, his eyes flicking over her chest again, drawn to the small pendant of the necklace he’d bought her as a gift. Two silver rings linked together that lay perfectly on her collarbone, one of his favourite places to press his lips against her skin. 

“You doing ok there, Aaron?” She asks, and his eyes trail back up to her face, to her perfectly applied make-up and curled hair, and he swallows thickly. 

“I’m fine,” he says, clearing his throat as he recovers, “You look…” 

He trails off and it makes her smile. She steps closer to him and presses her lips to his cheek, wiping her red lipstick away from his skin immediately. She loves that she can do this, act like the couple they were for an evening, even if it was under what the team think is nothing more than pretence to catch the unsub.

“You look hot too,” she replies, linking her arms through his and leaning into him. He looks down at his outfit, the same suit he’d been wearing earlier minus the tie and scoffs. 

“This is what I usually wear.” 

She smiles at him as they join the line to walk into the club, spotting JJ just a few people ahead of them. 

“Exactly,” she replies, her eyes sparkling as they meet his, “And you always look hot.” 

They get into the club easily, and Aaron wraps his arm around her waist to hold her a little closer when the man at the door stares at her for a little too long. He spots Derek as he walks in and they exchange a quick nod. The club is busy and it forces him and Emily to walk closely to each other, his arm around her waist as he directs her to the bar. 

“Drink?” He says in her ear and she shivers, his breath skipping across her skin in a way that felt familiar yet dangerous. She knew they were walking a delicate line with the team watching them. That they had to make things between them seem real, but not real enough that they started to question what was going on

“Yes, a beer would be great,” she replies, smiling at him as she sits on the one stool free at the bar. Aaron stands next to her and orders their drinks, paying the bartender for their beers as he sets them on the bar in front of them. She sits facing him and he takes a step closer, his hand at her waist as he looks around the club. She picks up her beer and takes a sip, “Can you see the others?” 

“Dave and Reid are up in the surveillance room. Morgan is over by the dance floor,” he says, sipping his beer before he puts the bottle down, “And JJ is by the bathrooms.” 

She looks around and spots them both, not missing the curious look on Derek’s face at how close she and Aaron were to each other, before she looks back at her boyfriend. 

“So, Hotch, what's the plan?” 

He smiles at her and steps in closer, leaning down to press a kiss to her cheek, catching the corner of her lips in a way she knows the others won’t spot from this angle. It makes her breath catch in her throat and she doesn’t miss the spark in his eyes as he pulls back. He affected her just as much as she affected him and he knew it. A game of chess they both always came away from winning. 

“We put on a show that hopefully gets the unsubs to follow us.”

She smiles slowly at him, wanting to regain the advantage, and she stands up, pressing herself against him. Her heels bring her almost to his height, and she tilts her head so her mouth is level with his ear. 

“Well… let's make sure we’re convincing.” 

___

It takes close to an hour, but Aaron eventually spots a group of three men who are watching them, their eyes fixed on him and Emily no matter where they are. She spots them too and nods at him as he leads her towards the alley, his arm around her waist as they sneak out the back door of the club. He knows Derek and JJ would have seen them, and throws a quick look at the camera pointing at the door, hoping Dave and Spencer will be on their way too. 

“Those guys definitely seem a little too interested in us,” she says, shivering as the cool evening air hits her bare skin, “They aren’t talking to anyone else, or drinking. Just…watching,” she says, scrunching her nose up slightly, “It must be them.” She shivers again, cursing her past self for not bringing a jacket, her sole purpose as he got ready at the hotel had been to wind Aaron up. She pulls him a little closer, seeking out his warmth, “We should do this for real one day. You know, without the team nearby and a group of guys out to get us.”

He raises an eyebrow at her, “What, make out in an alley?” 

“Yes,” she replies, pressing a kiss to his cheek, “And go dancing.” 

“I’m not exactly the clubbing type, sweetheart,” he says, hearing the door they’d walked through open again, the familiar squeak of the hinge giving it away, “Hopefully that’s Morgan.” 

She nods, and looks down the alley, tensing when she realises it’s two of the men they’d been baiting all evening. 

“Shit,” she says, pulling him closer, forcing him to crowd her against the wall to give the illusion they were too lost in each other that they hadn’t noticed they had company, “It’s not Morgan.” 

Aaron nods, one of his hands on her waist and the other on the wall next to her head, “Can you reach my gun? It’s in the waistband at the back of my pants.” 

“Thankfully, I’m well practised at reaching your ass from this position,” she says, smiling tightly as she reaches for his gun, her hand lingering on the grip of it that was hidden by his jacket. They wait until the footsteps against the concrete floor and he nods at her, giving her the signal. 

It happens quickly, far too fast for either of them to react but she doesn’t even get the chance to pull the gun out properly. She’s hit, hard, across the face, knocking her back into the wall as she brings her hand up to her lip, wincing as she feels blood against her skin, the back of her head colliding with the brick wall and dazing her for a moment.  Aaron is pulled away from her, both men using all of their strength to do so, bundling him into a van that has pulled up at the end of the alley, the third man they’d seen earlier driving it. 

She tries to approach them, scrambling for Aaron’s gun that had hit the floor, and she sees one of them turn to come back to get her, but the door opens again, Derek running through it.

“Emily, Hotch,” he shouts, his gun drawn as the rest of the team follow him out into the alley. The sight of them is enough to spook the unsubs, who abandon their idea of taking Emily too, piling into the van as it drives off with Aaron inside. “Shit.” 

___

“Where the hell were you?” Emily seethes as she stares at the team, batting away the hands of the paramedic who was trying to clean the split in her lip. She could barely feel the sting of it, concern about Aaron overwhelming everything else. “You were meant to be right behind us.” 

“We got caught in the crowd,” JJ says apologetically, “We lost track of you.” 

Emily scoffs, “The unsubs didn’t.” 

“Reid saw the licence plate,” Dave says in an attempt to assure her, shrugging off his jacket and placing it over her shoulders as she shivers again once the paramedic steps away, “Garcia is looking into it.” 

Derek walks over, his shoulders tense as he approaches them, “Locals found Hotch’s phone a couple blocks away, seems like it was thrown from the window. They must have searched him.” 

“He has my phone in his pocket,” Emily says, not missing how Derek and Dave exchange a look, “If they found his, they may have stopped looking for anything else.” 

JJ nods, reaching down and squeezing Emily’s shoulder before she steps away, “I’ll call Garcia, and ask her to track it.” 

Emily stands up, groaning as she briefly feels dizzy, her head aching from where it had collided with the wall.

“Woah, Em,” Derek says, his hand on her shoulder to steady her, “You need to take it easy, we’ll find Hotch.”

“I’m not just sitting here whilst they could be doing god knows what to the man I…” she catches herself but she knows it’s too late, that the combination of her fear and the very mild concussion the paramedic had diagnosed her with had left her more on edge than usual.

“The man you…” Dave says, his eyebrows raised at her, a hint of a smirk on his face that makes her roll her eyes. She looks back and forth between them all, JJ and Spencer having now rejoined them. 

“Fuck,” she mutters, wrapping Dave’s jacket a little tighter around her, “The man I love, ok?” She says, watching as various degrees of shock spread across their faces. 

“How long has this been going on?” Derek asks, his hands on his hips with a look that was a little too close to accusation on his face. 

“Nine months,” she says simply as if she was aware it wouldn’t create more questions, but she raises her hand to stop them before they can even be asked, “Can we save the rest of the questions until after we’ve rescued Aaron?” 

Derek opens his mouth to argue, but clearly thinks better of it and he nods tightly instead. His phone rings and he answers it, stepping away to give it his whole attention. 

“So,” JJ says, stepping into Emily’s eye line, “Aaron?” 

Emily sighs, her headache getting worse by the second, “JJ-”

“Garcia said Emily’s phone is still on,” Derek says, cutting any other conversation off as he walks over, his phone still pressed to his ear, “She’s sending the tracking information now.” 

They spring into action, and Emily follows them, briefly stopped by Derek who frowns at her, his hand reaching out to stop her.

“Em-”

“If you try and stop me I will shoot you,” she threatens, even though they both know she’s unarmed, and he nods, stepping out of her way so she can climb into the SUV.

___

Derek makes her wait outside, and she concedes, knowing she’d be more of a hindrance right now than a help. 

She paces back and forth in front of the SUV, her eyes fixed on the building that tracking her cell phone had led them to. She hates how anxious she feels, how out of control. It was not the first time they’d been in danger since they’d got together, but it was the first time his safety had relied completely on her. And she’d failed to protect him. 

“Em.” 

She looks up, relief flooding through her so quickly she’s surprised she doesn’t stumble when she sees Aaron running towards her. JJ is just a few paces behind him and she throws Emily a reassuring smile before she turns back into the warehouse, clearly going to see if she can help the others now they knew Aaron was safe. He’s limping slightly, and even in the low light of the street lamps she can see he already has bruises on his face, sure to bloom even darker over the coming hours. 

“Aaron.” She meets him halfway, wrapping her arms around him tightly as they meet, pulling back to look at him, her eyes wildly searching his face. She cups his cheek, her thumb delicate against the bruising spreading over his jaw, “Are you ok?” 

“I’m ok,” he assures her, reaching up to touch her face, his thumb hovering over the split in her lip, “Are you ok?” 

“I’m fine,” she says, shaking him off. He stares at her, his eyebrow raised, and she scoffs, rolling her eyes, “Seriously I’m ok. A split lip and a mild concussion. We both know I’ve had worse. How about you?” 

“A couple of cracked ribs I think,” he says, holding her closer as she tries to pull away, aware that she had her arms around him in a way that could hurt, “And I landed on my knee when they threw me on the ground.”

“We need to get you looked at,” she says, “Derek said he’d call an ambu-”

“Em, sweetheart,” he says, tucking a dark curl behind her ear, “I’m ok. We both know I’ve had worse.” 

The use of her own words against her makes her roll her eyes again, and he smiles. He pulls her back into a hug, holding her even tighter, and he breathes her in. He frowns at something that smells familiar, but not a scent he would associate with her. He pulls back and looks down at her, eyes fixed on the jacket she had over her shoulders.

“Is this…Dave’s?” He asks, confusion knitting his eyebrows together. 

“Yes,” she replies, her fingers trailing through the short hair at the back of his head as she smirks at him, “We’re running away together, this isn’t how I wanted to tell you but....” she drifts off, a nonchalant shrug the punchline to her joke, and he finds himself inexplicably more in love with her than he was before. 

He shakes his head at her and leans down to kiss her, his lips only just meeting hers as they are interrupted. 

“You two have a lot of explaining to do.” 

They groan at the sound of Dave’s voice and they both turn to look at him, not separating from each other even a tiny bit. The team are all standing together watching them closely, and Emily spots the three unsubs being forced into police cars by the local cops. 

She groans, and Aaron runs his hand up and down her back in a quiet attempt to comfort her, “Can we at least get on the jet first?” 

___

Aaron is seen by a paramedic at Emily’s insistence. He’s told he’s fine, that his injuries are all minor, and that he’d recover within a few days. 

Emily changes in the small bathroom on the jet, switching from the dress she’d worn at the club to a pair of pants and a sweater. She doesn’t think about the fact it was once Aaron’s until she steps out and everyone looks at her, their curiosity increasing. She slips into the spare seat next to Aaron. His hand immediately sneaks onto her thigh, warm and heavy in a way she found comforting. He moves his thumb back and forth over the seam of her pants, the sensation against her inner thigh relaxing her further as she places her hand over his. 

“Better?” He asks, his smile soft as he looks at her. The bruise on his cheek, spreading down to his jaw, makes her heart clench in her chest. 

“Much,” she replies, grimacing slightly as she smiles, the movement pulling at the damaged skin of her lower lip. 

“Ok,” Dave says, leaning forward where he sat opposite them, his linked hands on the table, “I think we’ve waited long enough.” 

Emily sighs and looks up at Aaron, who nods at her, “What do you want to know?” 

“Is it serious?” JJ asks, a look on her face that lets Emily know whatever she says will be fed back immediately to Penelope. 

“Yes,” she replies simply, “Very serious.” 

“I knew something was going on,” Dave says as he leans back in his seat. 

“No you didn’t,” Spencer says from next to him, frowning in confusion, “You kept saying you were going to set Hotch up with someone from your publisher, why would you do that if you knew he was with Emily.” 

Emily chuckles from across the table, some of the tension in her chest easing at the slightly embarrassed look on Dave’s face. 

“Ok fine, I had no idea.” Dave admits, holding his hands up in defence, “You’re both worryingly good at keeping secrets.”

“It’s like you forget what I used to do for a living,” Emily quips, raising her eyebrow at him as he narrows his eyes, a fake glare spreading across his face. 

“What you haven’t explained is why you kept it a secret for so long,” Derek says, drawing the attention towards him on the long seat, JJ perched next to him, “Nine months? Did you feel like you were doing something wrong?” 

The implication makes her tense up again, something that Aaron picks up on immediately as he tightens his hold on her leg. 

“Morgan,” Aaron says warningly, his voice stern, “It isn’t a simple thing when two agents date each other,” he explains, telling them something they all already knew, “But that isn’t why we kept it a secret.” 

“Then why?” Derek asks, staring at the two of them, his gaze unyielding. 

Emily squeezes Aaron’s hand and he turns it to link their fingers together, their joint hands resting against her leg. It was hard to explain, she knew that. The comfort she’d found in the secrecy was something she struggled to understand herself. Her love for Aaron was very real, and all consuming at times, and it felt precious to her. The thought of letting people in, of others having a critical eye on something she held so dear, was a lot to take. She knew Aaron felt the same way.

It was naive, she knew that. Naivety was something that she didn’t usually allow herself, something she had never really been able to have. The team would have always found out eventually. She and Aaron had already discussed living together. She knew she’d marry him, that it was just a matter of when not if. They’d even loosely spoken about children, about the small time frame they had left if they wanted to have them. He was her future, and she was his. 

It was time to stop letting the past get in the way. 

“At first it was practical,” Emily explains, “Just so we knew we weren’t…risking it all for something that wouldn’t last.” 

“And that took nine months?”

She looks at Derek, her eyes boring into his, “More like 9 hours,” she quips, her lips curling into a soft smile as she remembers their first date. How dinner had turned into breakfast and then lunch, “We just wanted to keep it to ourselves,” she says, squeezing Aaron’s hand again, “I don’t know how to explain it beyond that.” 

They fall into silence, her admittance laying over them all. The small amount of vulnerability she usually didn’t show enough to placate them for now. 

“Well,” JJ says, a teasing smile on her face, “If you think Pen is going to accept that explanation you have another thing coming.” 

Emily groans and rests her head on Aaron’s shoulder. He chuckles and kisses the top of her head, finding unexpected comfort in the fact he could do so in front of the rest of the team. 

“You’ll be fine, Em,” he says, wrapping his arm around her to pull her closer.

“You say that now,” she mutters, “Just wait until she starts asking invasive questions about our sex life.” 

There’s a beat of silence before the others groan, various levels of disgust in their voice that makes her roll her eyes, but it’s all drowned out by Aaron’s response.

“She’s going to do what?” 

___

She feels relaxed for the first time in days after Aaron closes his apartment door behind them after showing Jess out. He does his usual checks that the door is locked before he turns his attention to her. He wraps his arms around her from behind and kisses her temple. She smiles and puts her hand over his, tilting her head so she can kiss him. She winces slightly, the sting of her split lip making her pull back. 

“I’m sorry sweetheart,” he says and she shakes her head at him, turning so she was facing him. 

“It’s not your fault. You didn’t hit me in the face,” she replies, her smile fading when his frown deepens, “Aaron-”

“I may not have done it, but I didn’t stop it from happening.” 

She sighs, leaning forward and pressing her forehead against his, “It’s not your fault,” she repeats, pulling back so she can cup his cheek, “Unless you blame me for not stopping them from taking you.” 

“Of course I don’t,” he says, his frown deepening and she smiles at him, ignoring the pull at the split in her lip.

“Exactly,” she replies, her thumb running over the bruise on his cheek, “Then why would I blame you.” 

He nods despite the fact he doesn’t entirely agree. A need to protect her climbing up his throat that he knows she’d call sexist, her eyes wide as she, rightly, explained she could look after herself. It wasn’t because he didn’t think she could, he just didn’t want her to go through any more than she already had. He wanted to stop anything or anyone, else from hurting her. She’d been through enough. They both had. 

They deserved a peaceful future. A soft epilogue after everything they’d survived. 

“We should get to bed,” he says, kissing the tip of her nose instead of kissing her properly, some of the tension in his chest easing as she smirks at him, “It’s been a long day.” 

She nods in agreement and they head towards his bedroom, their arms wrapped around each other as they do. 

“We can have a lay-in tomorrow, right?” She asks, yawning as the mere thought of sleeping makes her realise just how tired she is. “We don’t have work.” 

He chuckles, “If you think Jack is going to let us sleep in you have another thing coming.” 

“What is it with you Hotchners and your dislike of sleep?” She groans, leaning into his side, “You’re both lucky I love you.” 

Aaron kisses the side of her head, “We really are.” 

-x-

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[mazamba]

A Shared Interest

"Excuse me? Miko, right?"

Miko yelped in surprise and turned sharply. Sari's Autobots were so much louder when they moved, so she wasn't entirely sure how her Optimus Prime had snuck up on her.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you," he reassured her, "it's just... I'm having a small problem that Sari told me you could help me with."

"Um, I can try," she replied, unsure as to how she could help.

"Great! I can't get this cord right."

Whatever Miko had been expecting Optimus to pull out of his subspace, it certainly hadn't been an acoustic guitar as tall as Arcee.

"You play the guitar?" she asked, feeling somewhat dumb from asking when the fifteen foot long answer was right in front of her.

"Learning," he replied, pulling out his fire engine to use it as a stool, "this cord is kicking my skid plate though."

Miko watched closely as the 25 foot giant in front of her started strumming. It was still odd seeing a version of Optimus that was the same height as her own Bulkhead, almost as odd as finding out their Bulkhead was her Optimus' height.

"It's not you," she figured out after a minute of watching him over-reach his wrist, "the neck's too thin. You had that thing modeled after Earth guitars, right? Your hands are larger compared to your body than a human's, so the neck needs to be thicker."

"I guess that makes sense," he admitted, shaking a kink that'd tensed up in his left wrist from the awkward position, "I'll ask Bulkhead to redo the neck when he gets the chance."

"I didn't know you were into guitars," said Miko, taking out her own axe to tune, "what's music like on Cybertron?"

"Hmmm, in human terms... industrial?" he figured, "we don't have any wind instruments. Most instruments are similar to human steel drums, xylophones, and the like. We do have corded instruments, but they're more similar to your lyres and harps. Then there's light music, but that tends to be used partially for the visual element and sounds somewhat similar to your dubstep."

"Huh, we have light music too, but it means something totally different here."

"Yes, I realized that when I looked it up," he figured, "I suppose laser music might be more accurate. I'll have to ask Sari to compare notes later, but I think she's busy tuning her harp right now."

"The harp? Sari plays the harp? I expected something a bit... louder from her."

"She wanted an instrument she could use with her twenty servo configuration," recalled Optimus, "though she doesn't sound much like other human harp players I've heard. She tends to pluck strings individually and has several distortion pedals connected. She once tried connecting it to her vocal processor, but Ratchet stopped her."

"Huh. I kinda wanna hear that now."

"I think she cited Emily Hopkins as inspiration."

[quietwings-fics]

A Dark and Stormy Night

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Archive Warning: Major Character Death Fandom: Five Nights at Freddy's Ship: Gen (Henry & Michael, Charlie & Henry) Additional Tags: Canonical Character Death, Child Death, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Henry Emily-centric, Sad Ending, Sad, Heavy Angst, Parent Henry Emily, Minor William Afton | Dave Miller/Henry Emily, Regret, Tragedy, Storms Wordcount: 3069 Summary:

Henry Emily tries to protect his children. Or, did you know that the Midnight Motorist and Security Puppet minigames take place on the same night?

There was a knock on the door to Henry’s office, almost swallowed up by a clap of thunder from the storm outside. Henry sat up, feeling a grimace settle into its familiar home on his face. The man behind the knock, Richard, didn’t wait for Henry’s reply before he opened the door. He studied Henry with a frown. Richard was older than most of the other employees, the one who’d stuck with the franchise the longest, through closures and reopenings and rebrandings and rumors. He was one of the few people in the world left Henry would consider a friend, though they rarely met outside of work and Henry couldn’t even remember the name of Richard’s wife.

“He came back again, didn’t he?” Henry asked.

“About twenty minutes ago,” Richard answered. “I told him to leave.” Richard shut the door behind him and leaned back against it. “He put up less of a fight than last time.” Henry forced out a long breath. Richard was waiting, like he always did, for some kind of explanation. Henry said nothing, and so Richard continued. “William’s not who I came to talk to you about.” Henry clasped his hands tightly over his desk and held back his wince.

“What do you mean?” Panic rose in his throat, and he looked off to the wall beside his desk. An array of lights littered the wall, all glowing brightly. Superficially, they were a sign of how important the day-to-day operations were to Henry, each light reflecting a fully-functioning animatronic. His eyes rarely lingered over any of them other than the green one in the corner. He felt himself relax at the sight of its steady light. When he looked back at Richard, the man’s frown had deepened, lines deeply creasing his forehead.

“The kid snuck in again,” he answered. Henry clenched his fist and squeezed his eyes shut. “You sure he doesn’t have a key or something? I don’t know how he keeps getting in.” Richard continued. Henry shook his head.

“I wouldn’t give him a key, Richard. If he ever lost it...” Henry’s voice faltered. He ran a hand through his graying hair. “He’s ingenuitive, that’s all. He...” gets it from his father, he did not finish. “Where is he?”

“I left him in the main showroom. I don’t think he knows he’s been caught yet.” Richard said. “You want me to-”

“No,” Henry said, like he’d said so many times before. “I’ll deal with him.” He pushed himself away from his desk, leaving his paperwork with a half-scrawled signature. With one last look at the green light on the wall, he left his office.

The showtunes echoing through the restaurant made his head hurt. He’d have to commission a few new songs soon before the repetition drove him and the rest of his employees insane. The thought of spending a few nights reprogramming the animatronic show routines only made his headache worse, but it wasn’t like there was anyone else who could do the job anymore. He slid his glasses down to pinch the bridge of his nose before glancing around the main room. On the dance floor below the stage, he caught sight of Charlotte giggling and surrounded by other children, and that managed to bring a slight smile to his face. He looked around again and saw the boy he was looking for at last. He made his way over to him.

“Michael,” he greeted. The teenager jumped, head jerking up towards him before he relaxed when all he saw was Henry standing there. Henry searched for something to ask, but the questions all felt brittle on his tongue. There was no wonder how Richard had spotted Michael so quickly. He stood out in a crowd of rambunctious children and tired adults, the lone teenager still hanging around Fredbear Jr’s Pizza. With his brown hair and blue eyes, he was the spitting image of his father at that age. The memory of that younger William was fuzzy, half-forgotten, and the realization made Henry feel his years around his neck like a noose. “Michael, what are you doing here?” He finally asked. Michael crossed his arms.

“Because you won’t let Dad come here anymore,” he finally answered. Thunder boomed again outside the restaurant, the sky heaving another flood on top of them. The lights above them dimmed slightly and came back. Henry rubbed his mouth and sighed.

“Come back to my office with me. We’ll talk.” Michael nodded, relief clear on his face as he realized he wasn’t being thrown out. Henry never turned him out, not once, but Michael still felt the need to break in, to hide in the evening crowd as best he could. As they walked, Henry glanced over his shoulder again, catching a glimpse of his daughter darting off towards the prize corner, the huge gift box sitting inert, secure in the safety of the child it was built to protect. Her green armband was visible from across the room. Henry had been debating changing the color, though the original function would remain the same. She stood out too much, marked as the owner’s daughter. She’d told him the other children got jealous.

A worry for another day, he told himself. For now, he led Michael back to his office, where the music and the laughter were drowned out by the thicker walls. Henry would never get any work done otherwise. He felt the brief urge to hug Michael once the door was shut behind them. It’d been a few months since he’d last seen him. Children grew too much, too fast, but more than anything, Henry was grateful Michael had been given the time to grow at all. He settled for one quick pat on the shoulder before sitting at his desk. Michael shifted awkwardly until Henry gestured to a couch against the wall opposite the lights. It was small and uncomfortable, but Michael wasn’t an employee up for quarterly review and Henry would feel strange making him sit in one of the chairs in front of his desk.

After all, Michael was-

Henry tried and failed to attach a word to the boy that didn’t feel either cold or presumptuous.

There was a time, years ago, when Michael had been family.

At least he could say that with certainty.

“Do you want anything? Water?” Henry asked. Michael shook his head. Henry picked up the pen on his desk and clicked it. He tried to read any of the paperwork he’d been doing earlier, but the words didn’t translate into meaning. He clicked the pen again. “Have you seen your father today?” The questions made Michael try to shrink in on himself. It didn’t work as well now as it had when he was twelve, when all he did after... the accident was make himself as small as possible.

“No,” he said. There was a pause before he continued, “I heard him. He was yelling at Mom. I was in my room, and I locked the door.” Henry’s brow furrowed.

“Then how did you-”

“I broke my window.” Michael was staring at his shoes.

“Are you hurt?” Henry asked, alarmed. Michael’s eyes darted up momentarily. He shook his head again. “Michael, if... If you’re scared that your father might... Do something to you, or to your mother, you know you can come to me for help.” Michael nodded again, not looking up. “I’d do anything to protect you, you know that, right?” He had to restrain himself from saying you kids. Michael was the only child of William’s left, and hadn’t Henry failed once already? If he’d just looked over those blueprints closer, if he’d known what that damned robot was programmed to do...

He’d felt like an intruder in the world of William’s grief. He’d let the man throw himself into his work, into his creations, without thinking that his intent with making them might have changed. And how could he have known? Even if he had read all of William’s almost illegible scrawlings about a life after death, about just needing to test it, swearing that Evan was still here, would he really have presumed anything other than that the man had lost his mind the same day he’d lost his second son? If he’d looked at the designs, poured over them for hours and hours, would he ever have believed that his partner could actually build such a thing?

Henry had turned a blind eye, and now there was only one child left to hide in his office from William’s rage.

Outside his window, the thunder growled with contempt.

“I’m not going back home, Uncle Henry,” Michael said.

“What?”

“I’m running away. I came to say goodbye.”

“Michael, you can’t-” Henry stopped himself. There was so much fear in Michael’s eyes when he spoke, and he could almost hear the boy at twelve, at thirteen, fifteen, showing up at his doorstep or in one of their restaurants and begging Henry not to tell his father where he was, to just let him spend one night. “How old are you?” Henry asked instead. Michael screwed up his face and lied.

“Seventeen.”

“Sixteen,” Henry corrected, softly. “Your birthday is next month.” Michael curled in on himself again.

“I won’t go back,” he said. Please don’t make me go back, Henry heard.

Henry leaned back in his chair, his eyes drifting to the wall of lights. The green light flickered momentarily but shone again seconds later. The storm, he reasoned, only the storm affecting the power, but the jolt from watching it darken for even a moment was all the push he needed. He unlocked a drawer on his desk. Michael’s eyes grew wide as Henry pulled out stack after stack of bills. Six hundred in total in his desk’s emergency fund, tucked in among old photos. He handed all of it over to Michael. Michael looked like he was in shock. Henry could see the tears begin to well up in his eyes, only for Michael to quickly scrub at his face and pretend they’d never been there to begin with.

“You should lay down. Get some rest.” Michael clearly hadn’t been getting any at home, or so the dark circles under his eyes told Henry. “When we close up the restaurant for the day, I’ll drive you to the bus station, and you can catch the last bus out to wherever you want to go.” Henry hesitated. “Where do you want to go?”

“Away,” Michael answered. Henry hadn’t really expected anything else.

“Okay,” he said, sitting back down at his desk and trying to look at his paperwork. He had a terrible feeling swelling up in the pit of his stomach as he watched Michael try to find some sort of comfy position to lay down on the couch. He wished he had a blanket or something to offer. Instead, he looked at his paperwork without reading it. After a few minutes, he gave up again and reopened the drawer he hadn’t locked back up. There was no more money left, but the photos were still all stuffed in there. He hadn’t looked at them in years, it felt like.

The first was of the establishing of the new Fredbear’s Family Diner. The sun was bright in the sky, shining down on four people. Henry held up the ceremonial ribbon tied in front of the door, and William was poised to cut it a moment after the camera snapped. A few feet away, their wives looked on. Ava was still pregnant with Charlotte in that picture. In a few months, he’d finally hold his baby girl, but Charlotte would grow up without a mother. Henry could hardly remember that time after Ava died, only that William and Marie had been there, named godparents without hesitation. They’d half-raised Charlotte when he couldn’t.

The next picture, of him and William only, with the first prototype of the springlock suits. William’s hand was bandaged from a malfunction. He’d still had the scar, last Henry had seen him. Henry knew that scar well. He’d watched William’s hands at work for so many long nights on their animatronics. Nights on end where neither of them returned home, Marie with her own three children to watch at home, Charlotte with a nanny, and they’d work like the rest of the world didn’t exist. And things happened between two people when they spent time like that together, things they didn’t talk about in the daylight when it was bright enough to see their wedding rings. So, yes, Henry knew that scar well, from the sight of it or the texture of it under a kiss.

The next picture he withdrew with under another rumble of thunder, the storm seeking attention he couldn’t give at the moment. He traced the folded lines of this picture of four children: Charlotte, four, Evan, seven, Elizabeth, nine, Michael, eleven. This one he used to carry with him in his wallet. He remembered taking it out to show people his daughter, and they’d always look surprised at the sight of four children all squeezed into one booth before he clarified that only one was his, even if he’d planned most of their birthday parties and taught Evan to tie his shoes and driven Elizabeth to her dance recital one night when William and Marie were taking care of a sick Michael. Charlotte, he’d point out, here, this one is mine. He could have used a different picture, one with only her in it. He never did.

He went to pull out another picture when the storm let out a terrible roar that made the whole building shake. Michael, who’d been dozing off as Henry reminisced, jumped to his feet. The power went dead, and Henry shot up from his desk as well, shoving the last picture in his pocket. It was only a dozen seconds, a dozen two long, and his heart raced as he fumbled in his desk for a flashlight in case the power didn’t come back. When it did, weakly flickering back to full strength, he leaned heavily on the wooden desk and breathed.

He looked over to the wall of lights. All bright.

All bright except the only one he needed to see.

Come back, he demanded, the power is on, come back!

There was no green light.

“Michael, stay here,” he said. The boy looked concerned.

“Why-”

“Stay here!” Henry snapped, louder than he meant to. Michael flinched and nodded.

Henry all but ran out of his office. He found Richard first, pulled him aside and said in a hurried whisper, “Have you seen Charlotte?” Richard frowned.

“She was-” He glanced over at the prize corner. Henry felt his heart drop into his stomach. The giant gift box was open. “What the hell? Where’s the puppet thing?” Richard asked, confused.

“Marionette,” Henry corrected distantly. “It’s a marionette.” He didn’t feel like he was in control of his body as he rushed over to the prize corner. There was an exit door there, marked as a fire escape only. He shoved it open and was pelted with rain. It didn’t stop him from going outside. He could barely see through the torrential downpour. The door behind him didn’t slam shut immediately, Richard following him outside. “Charlie!” Henry screamed. It only took Richard hearing the tone of his voice for the other man to finally pick up on what exactly had Henry so freaked out.

They both shouted for her, but the rain and the thunder was drowning them both out. Henry pushed forward through the rain around the building. He called for his daughter again. “Charlie!” Henry called for his child. No one answered him. A car drove past him, and in his fear, he couldn’t tell if he recognized it or not. He stumbled into the alley behind the restaurant, calling out again, nearly bumping into one of the many trash cans. There was something lying in the alley, barely visible in the rain and darkness, but part of him could only feel relief as he realized it was too big to be his daughter. He went to check it anyway, in case it was someone else hurt, but what he touched instead of clothing or a person’s skin was familiar fabric and cold metal.

He tore his hand back. The marionette lay broken and useless. He was close enough now to see why, what it had curled itself around. He knelt on the ground.

Richard’s voice came from behind him, horrified.

“Get help!” Henry heard himself scream.

He shoved the mangled heap of the marionette away. He held his daughter.

“Call someone! Get help!” He screamed again. He didn’t know if Richard was still there.

The rain made it so hard to hear. He couldn’t tell if she was breathing.

Henry looked up and saw William standing behind him.

“Charlie?” said William, in a young voice that sounded nothing like William’s. “Uncle Henry, what-”

“I told you not to come here!” Henry shouted over the thunder. “Why did you do this?!” William took a step back. His face contorted, and Henry’s vision was too blurry to tell if it was horror or a wicked smile. Part of him still protested that William wouldn’t, couldn’t.

But notes in his frantic handwriting seared through Henry’s mind. Just one child, he’d written, to test it, I only need one. Charlotte wasn’t moving.

William was gone. Henry was soaked with rain, but it didn’t wash the rest of the stains on his clothing away. He could hear footsteps behind him.

“There’s an ambulance on its way.” Richard said. “Where’s the kid going?”

“The kid?” He was holding his daughter. She wasn’t moving. She wasn’t breathing.

“Michael.” Richard said. “I saw him run off.”

Henry choked. “Oh, God. Michael.” He looked back wildly and could see nothing past a dozen feet. “Michael!” He called for his child. No one answered him. Beside him, a fallen photograph, so heavily damaged by the rain now that he could barely make out the contents, just the vague outline of Charlotte on her third birthday, laughing and being held aloft by her godfather. The sky tore itself open again, and in the corner of Henry’s eye, lightning above lit up the tear-stained mask of the marionette, its eyes dragged free of its sockets, one arm outstretched towards him.

(Enjoyed it? Any interaction is welcomed. You can even support me on Ko-Fi <3)

[theawkwardanglophile]

TheAwkwardAnglophile's Year in TV shows: 2022

It seems I've started a tradition, and even though I know only very few people will actually see or read this, it's still fun to put together. This is my third time doing this. Feel free to check out my lists for 2021 and 2020 as well.

My criteria for shows making the list is the show either aired new content in 2022, or I'd never watched it before. So, while I did several rewatches, those didn't count. Also, beware: SPOILERS ABOUND! Here's the list in alphabetical order:

Abbott Elementary: What a perfect little sitcom that just stormed onto the scene after so many beloved sitcoms had gone off the air the last few years. They deserve all the accolades! It is genuinely hilarious. Ava probably makes me laugh harder than any of them, and of course I'm here for Janine and Gregory.

Andor: Holy crap, I was not expecting to be drawn into this show as much as I was. What a brilliant deep dive into the Star Wars universe. So many layers and subtleties to it. Luthen's monologue BLEW ME AWAY, and I looooved the prison escape. You get such a better understanding of how terrifyingly far the Empire's reach went.

Baymax: I was expecting a full-blown series, so I was very disappointed to find only 6 short episodes that were only a few minutes long. However, it was more Baymax, which is always a good thing. I think my favorite was the episode Kiko, which had Mrs. Kim from Gilmore Girls (Emily Kuroda)!

Blockbuster: I know it got cancelled, but I actually kind of enjoyed it. It wasn't the best, but it had potential. There were a few genuinely funny moments for me, and I think the episode where they do inventory was my favorite.

The Book of Boba Fett: Ok, so I know there are a lot of Fett fans out there from the past 40 years, but I'm indifferent to Boba. But I found a lot to enjoy in this show. I liked watching Boba connect with the Tusken Raiders. However, the pacing and structure were terrible, Fennec was underutilized, and the Mos Espa "power rangers" left me scratching my head. The BEST PART of it all was the Mandalorian season 2.5 they snuck in there! Watching Grogu with Luke, seeing what Mando had been up to, and the most beautiful father/son reunion!! MY HEART. Sorry you got sidelined in your own show, Boba, but the Mando eps were WIZARD.

Call Me Kat: I'm still watching, still enjoying, but this show is kind of a mixed bag sometimes. I was not happy with how everything went down with Oscar. He was such a sweetheart! Am I happy Kat and Max have become a couple? Yeah, I guess, but I think it could've been done differently. Also, it won't be the same now without the lovely Leslie Jordan, RIP.

Derry Girls: Loved the final season. It's so quirky and fascinating and hilarious. The parents' high school reunion was absolute GOLD.

Dream Home Makeover: It's definitely one of those shows that you question why you're watching, yet you can't turn away. I don't want to like it. The couple is just odd together sometimes, and everything was shown out of order! One minute she was pregnant and then she wasn't, but then they'd go back to her being pregnant!

Emily in Paris: Season 3 was pretty good, although I found Emily a bit grating. I was worried they were going to make the whole season about her shenanigans working for both companies, but thankfully that got resolved quickly. Luc is still such a delight, and Sylvie has even grown on me. Gabriel and Alfie are still 🔥🔥.

Hawkeye: I watched this at the beginning of '22, so it's a bit fuzzy now, but it was enjoyable. Not quite at the level of some of the other Marvel shows (like Loki or Wandavision) but still pretty fun.

History 101: A fascinating little documentary series! I was hooked. Each episode was about a very specific topic and was brilliantly done.

Home Economics: This sitcom is pretty fun. I've always loved Topher Grace (although oddly enough I never watched That 70's Show 🙈), and he still nails awkward comedy. All the family dynamics are fun to watch, the kids are cute. And the Spiderman joke when they were at Disneyland had me ROLLING.

The Home Edit: I devour these episodes whenever they drop, and then I want to revamp my entire house, and life. I love organization, plus Joanna and Clea make everything fun to watch.

How I Met Your Father: I was SUPER skeptical about this one, and maybe still am a bit (HIMYM fans, you understand). But I ended up enjoying it more than I thought. I need to watch the last ep again to prep for the upcoming season 2, because I've forgotten a lot. I'm curious to see where it goes.

Jurassic World: Camp Cretaceous: The last season was wild, and I COULD NOT STAND Kenji's dad. The woooooorst. Shipped Brooklynn and Kenji, and happy Yaz and Sammy found happiness together. The ending was very satisfying for everyone!

Moon Knight: Oh DANG, what a ride. So many moments I'm like, "WHAAAAAAT am I even watching?!" But it was a fun, trippy adventure, and Oscar Isaac deserves all the awards.

Name That Tune: Always fun. I slay at this game.

Never Have I Ever: I just LOVE this show. Season 3 was another stellar season, and I am still definitely Team Ben! That ending! And the show still makes me cry, especially the scene with Devi and her mom in the finale. 😭

Obi-Wan: I know this wasn't as well received as was hoped, but I enjoyed it. Young Leia was fantastic! Lola, too (I have adopted her in my club of beloved droids). The story worked, and the Vader/Obi-Wan showdown was pretty amazing. The last 20 minutes of the finale was just a giant checklist of fan service, but honestly, I'm not complaining.

Only Murders in the Building: LOVE LOVE LOVE. This show is so incredible, and season 2 didn't disappoint! It's smart, hilarious, and I love the intro music so much. The intros were actually made even better by each one being slightly different with something related to that particular episode.

The Orville: If this journey for The Orville is truly at an end, then they sent it off well. A satisfying ending. I think the supersized episodes didn't work as well as their punchier 40-minute eps, but man, when they go big they go BIG. Incredibly well done topics, and the effects! INSANE. I swear Hulu must have kept just dumping money on them, like "Go ahead and make whatever effects you want!"

Paper Girls: This was...weird. I went through most of this going, "WHAT AM I EVEN WATCHING?" Obviously I loved all the retro vibes, and I was curious enough in the story to stick it out, but that was about it. It got pretty dark at times, and I thought the language, while warranted, got excessive enough at times to detract from the story. Anyway, if they were trying to capture the magic of Stranger Things, it didn't work, and it got cancelled anyway.

The Rookie: MY HEART! MY OTP. MY BEST SHIP AND SHIPPING EXPERIENCE EVER. My obsession with Chenford has exploded even more, as any of my followers can clearly tell. I love Tim and Lucy SO MUCH, and watching them become canon has been INCREDIBLE. But also, the show itself has stepped up its game in S5. The plots are better, more balanced, and I love all the different relationships shown. Making Thorsen a regular was a fantastic decision. The social media team has been killing it. And the show has gained tons of viewers and fans. We are truly in the golden age of The Rookie.

The Rookie: Feds: I like the show, but don't love it...yet. Maybe I will? It is done well, but it's just there. I watch it when I get around to it. Garza and Laura are probably my fave characters. I do like Simone, but she's also a lot. And I say this only because it's the FBI and there must be some kind of dress code, she should probably cover up the girls more. I swear she's going to end up having a wardrobe malfunction.

School of Chocolate: Pretty fascinating little chocolate-making competition.

Star Trek: Discovery: S4 was kind of a mixed bag. I'm not sure it was as memorable as previous seasons. I hate Tilly left. I did like that there was a running thread throughout of identity and belonging, and mental health. My FAVORITE part was how they found a way to communicate with Species Ten-C. Some brilliant television.

Star Trek: Lower Decks: S3 was ok, not my favorite, but it's still funny. My fave moment actually came in the DS9 ep. The background swing music at Quark's is actually from a band that my mom does booking for, Denver & the Mile High Orchestra, and for other personal reasons I won't go into here, that moment meant a lot to me.

Star Trek: Picard: Insert Picard facepalm here. I wanted S2 to work so badly, and be amazing, and it just wasn't. I mean it had Q and time travel and all the ingredients for something incredible, and it still didn't work. It would take too long to hash it all out here, but if anyone wants to vent with me, I'm around. I am excited (and nervous) for S3, however! I hope they don't let me down.

Star Trek: Prodigy: I still love the animation, and the kids are fun. I'm gonna be real honest, though. I'm mainly here for Janeway and Chakotay, because no, I'm still not over how Voyager ended, and if an animated kids show will let me see more of these two, I will take whatever I can get.

Star Trek: Strange New Worlds: Before I go any further, may I just point out the amazing WONDER that FIVE different Star Trek series aired new content in 2022?! A new record! The Trekaissance is real. This show exceeded my expectations. It's so different, yet still so classic Star Trek style. The characters are great, and the intro is incredible! I cry at that intro. It's sweeping and gorgeous and ahhhhh.

Stranger Things: I've loved Stranger Things from the beginning, was excited for S4, but when I watched 4x01 I almost gave it up. It felt so dark and depressing, and the scene at the end was horrifying. I put it off for a couple weeks before deciding to try again, and I slowly worked my way through the rest of the season. There were still parts I couldn't watch (I really don't do horror, Stranger Things was always about as far as I would go, but then they really upped the horror in S4, much to my dismay), but ultimately I'm glad I did watch, although unlike the rewatchability of S1-S3, I'm not sure I can go through S4 in its entirety again. But there were some BEAUTIFUL moments we got, lots of laughs, lots of emotions. All the reunions in Vol. 2! El seeing Hopper again 😭. And my absolute favorite part...JOPPER IS CANON!!

Supermarket Sweep: Always a lot of fun. Sad that it won't be back.

Young Sheldon: It's losing steam, but I'm still watching. The whole storyline with Georgie has been interesting.

And there you have it! 33 shows in all, which is probably a record for me. Feel free to message me or send an ask if you want to further chat about any of these. If you read this far, YOU ARE A ROCKSTAR AND I APPRECIATE YOU.

[whenimgoodandready]

We’re all goin’ through emotions here. It’s the perfect advantage for bad influencers to seek out and use for their own benefit. If those are strong enough, especially the negative ones, we’re f*cked! Then when the bad influencer needs extra help, they call upon some back-up like oh idk, a sentimonster! That’s where The Peacock Miraculous comes in. The peacock represents integrity, vision, and vibrancy. First lost and damaged cuz of Master Fu (“Feast”), then found by Gabe, Emilie and Nathalie (“Passion”), then used by Nat for an emergency last minute use (“Heroes Day Part 2:Mayura”), then fixed by Gabe (“Truth”) and then exchanged to by trade for Felix (“Shadow Moth’s Final Attack Part 2:Strike Back”) which lead to more emotions in Season 5. Speaking of which, has any one heard word from that little sh*t yet? Last we saw he activated The Peacock Miraculous after fooling the dynamic duo that he wasn’t around (“Multiplication”). No? Oh well, guess that’s it….or is it!? Let’s see:

*Emotion-There’s this big fancy ball called “The Diamonds Dance” where all the fat cats and big wigs go and bring their children along cuz it’s just like that party from “Gabriel Agreste”. You know, the one where everyone wears masks that were creepingly animal themed like in “Squad Game” to show how morally corrupt the rich are (what happened to a simple yet sophisticated black tie event huh?) and pass that on to their spoiled selfish little sh*ts. Ok, again, where’s Felix? You guys haven’t seen him around? No? Ok.

Anyways, all the rich kids will be there, Chloe, Zoe, Prince Ali, Lil-Oh no, wait! SHE’S NOT INVITED! HA! :P. A daughter to an ambassador and she gets left out in the cold! (laughs) Oh that’s rich!😅. Also, Adrien and Kagami are made King and Queen there cuz their evil parents are still trying to raise the Adrigami ship even though it’s soups awkward cuz Adrienette is sailing and Kagami is still interested in Adrien, but still supports Adrienette. Seriously, has any one seen Felix!? His mom, Amelie, is even asking about him to Gabe, but he’s acting like he’s deaf about it! Dude! Where’s your a**hole nephew!? Why isn’t he goin’ to the ball!? Huh, look at that, neither is Zoe, well good for her! She’s got better things to do! The only good “brain-eating zombies” are in the movies, so Marinette goes in her place. Adrien never told her about it and it was because Gabe “told” him not to cuz he’s subtly trying to drill holes in the Adrienette ship. Maybe if Gabe hadn’t done that, Marinette wouldn’t have been suspicious and snuck in to find out why! That’s on you Gabe!

The whole Diamonds Dance thing is pretty “secure”. The eye masks are digital invitations that only say the name on it regardless of who it is and to me, that’s not so impressive. Especially since it didn’t even have a face recognition (which is how Marinette got in) and only applied to the invites! :P. Not so smart tech! You’d think with a room full of upperclass, they could afford better security. I mean, you instantly change clothes when you go in, but you can’t put up a more efficient identity scanning system to know a fraud! Pathetic! Last time people! 👏Has👏any👏one👏seen👏Felix!? Felix Fathom!? He’s about “Yay-tall”, blond hair, green eyes?…….No! That’s Adrien!✨The golden boy!✨I mean Felix his little sh*t of a cousin! Oh no, wait, that is him! Don! Don! Don!

Actually, with The Peacock Miraculous, he calls himself Argos. This little peafowl summons up his look and unleashed a sentimonster named Red Moon. A glowing red moon that whomever it shines on makes Argos snap them away from existence.꒰ఎPoof໒꒱ There goes Chloe. ꒰ఎPoof໒꒱There goes Gabe.꒰ఎPoof໒꒱There goes Tomoe. ꒰ఎPoof໒꒱There goes, well, just about everyone else actually. WTF!? WHAT’S GOIN’ ON!? Is he doin’ that douchey Spiderman infected with darkness song and dance!? To the music from when Gabe was doin’ his “victory dance”!? (“The Kwami’s Choice Part 2:Deflagration”). What is up with these Agrestes/Fathoms men and singing and dancing!? I’m surprised they didn’t get rich from show business! ꒰ఎPoof໒꒱ There goes Ladybug!?😳….(screams)😱.

Well, well, well, look what the bus dropped off for us! It’s Felix Fathom! After so long, he’s finally come into the season. Just what was he up to and what did he want with The Peacock Miraculous? Hmmmmmmm. Turns out, Felix wanted The Peacock Miraculous so he can use its sentimonster creating powers to threaten Ladybug into giving him hers and Cat Noirs miraculous to make his own wish! BAM! But why you ask? Well, that’s complicated actually. See, the reason is despite his treachery of stealing almost all the miraculouses from Ladybug (which she was pissed af about and gave him a big lashing out for it let me tell ya) and making Monarch more powerful than ever, he did it for the sake of his beloved cousin, Adrien. He wanted himself, his mother, Adrien, and Kagami to be liberated from the controlling oppressors of the world so as not to live like “living puppets” to uphold the status quo of the rich and be themselves in their own little world. As noble as that is, HE DIDN’T FEEL ANY F*CKING REMORSE FOR THE CONSEQUENCES THAT OCCURRED AND NEVER EVEN APOLOGIZED TO LADYBUG ABOUT THE THEFT! Guess this use of The Peacock Miraculous falls into the category of Anti-Villain. One who does evil, but for good intentions. Is that how it goes? On one hand, Argos was looking out for his cousin, whom he genuinely loves (in a rather twisted way), and Kagami cuz the three of ‘em are more “similar” than we think and giving them the freedom they so longed for and not be paraded around like trophies. On the other hand, he never thought to ask what Adrien and Kagami thought about it and assumed they’d be grateful and relieved. They call him out on it and how he has no control over his powers. That and cuz Adrienette needs to sail (nice to see Felix/Argos supports that). Both of these were the reasons Argos fixed everything. I’ll elaborate more on his thoughts in the next review when the English Dubs come out. Even though by then all of Season 5 will be done and it’s fine cuz I’m spoiled by it any way so :P.

[speedyposts]

Heartbreak for Syria as Iran win nail-biting Asian Cup clash on penalties

Abdullah bin Khalifa Stadium, Qatar – What do you get when you take two football-mad countries, pit them against each other in a compact stadium and put a championship knockout berth on the line?

Iran vs Syria at the Abdullah bin Khalifa Stadium on Wednesday night – fighting for the last remaining quarterfinal spot in the AFC Asian Cup 2023.

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Iran emerged the winner after a penalty shootout was needed to separate the teams following a 1-1 result at the end of extra time.

It was an end-to-end contest that captivated the spectators for more than two hours and the underdog’s fight that Syria showed.

Iran started the game as favourites on many counts.

Higher ranking: Iran are second in Asia and 21st in the world in FIFA’s men’s rankings, compared with Syria’s 91st position in the world and 13th in Asia.

Past glory: Iran have won the Asian Cup three times – although the last time they triumphed was 48 years ago – while Syria had never previously gone past the group stage.

Tournament run: Iran topped their group with three wins and a goal difference of five. Syria snuck into the knockouts as one of the four best third-place teams on the back of a 1-0 win over hapless India and a goalless draw with Uzbekistan.

And finally, reputation: Iran were one of the title contenders alongside the likes of Japan, South Korea, Saudi Arabia and Australia. Syria were rated as one of the teams that would do wonders by qualifying for the knockouts.

Their progress thrilled Syrian fans as it gave them a chance to see their team in action one more time, especially at a stadium that kept them very close to the action. Both sets of fans loved every minute of the action.

The intensity of the on-field action was closely matched by the singing and chanting off it.

The 10,000-capacity venue was evenly packed with supporters of both teams. They came prepared with drums, trumpets, flags of various sizes and powerful vocal cords. Once the action was under way, each wave of attack on the pitch was matched by a crescendo of noise off it.

Iran took the lead when their star forward Mehdi Taremi converted a penalty in the 34th minute, but Syria kept mounting pressure on the Iranian goal.

Their efforts paid off when they were awarded a penalty in the second half and Omar Khribin stepped up to convert it and send Syria’s fans into dreamland.

And when Taremi was sent off in injury time, Syria felt the one-man advantage could help them sneak a winner.

But somehow Iran managed to fend off the Syrian attacks, which Team Melli’s coach Amir Ghalenoei credited to a “compact and disciplined performance” in his post-match comments.

In the end, what separated them on the field after more than two hours of action was one saved penalty kick.

When Ehsan Hajsafi successfully converted Iran’s last penalty to make it 5-3 in the shootout, Syrian players dropped to the ground in disbelief. In the stands, their fans wore a look of shock. Children with their faces painted with the Syrian flags sobbed but some fans, like Adnan Yazbek, said they were immensely proud of the team.

“Our team defied expectations to come this far and give Iran such a fight, so I’m heartbroken but I have a smile on my face because they made me feel proud of being Syrian,” Yazbek told Al Jazeera.

Mohammed Abdullah, a Syrian fan, said the team has overcome many off-field challenges due to the ongoing war in the country and consequential complications.

“Football is loved by everyone in Syria and this team is loved by all Syrians around the world,” Abdullah said.

“Me and my little sister are heartbroken, but this is football and as long as we know our players gave everything, we are going to continue supporting them.”

The Syrian team and their travelling fans return home to shift their focus on the 2026 World Cup qualification.

Meanwhile, Iran face the Samurai Blue in an afternoon kickoff in the third quarterfinal on Saturday.

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[imaginingmanyfandoms]

Paul's Lullaby | part one

| next>

"Sam?" Paul was, he was in pain. He respect Sam and Emily's privacy, but he needed to talk to Sam now.

Paul wasn't angry, he was in pain. He felt like the world had opened up and swallowed him whole. He ruined his own life, and he didn't know where else to turn.

"Paul?" Sam asked, opening the door. Emily was behind him, face covered in concern.

"I imprinted tonight," Paul said, "but she hates me. She really, really hates me."

"I'm sure it's nothing you can't fix," Sam said, ushering Emily to come closer.

"Sam, I'm not exaggerating, she told me that she hates me. In fact, she should hate me." Paul looked at his feet, but only to try and hide the distress on his face. "If anyone treated her that way I used to, I'd rip them apart."

"Paul," Emily said, reaching out. Paul flinched back.

"I don't deserve your sympathy. I just, I don't know what to do."

"Be patient. Maybe you just have to prove you're a different man now," Emily offered a sad smile, but it was the exact thing Paul didn't want. He shouldn't pitied, he didn't deserve it. He could feel his heart bruise and falter. He broke his own heart and has no clue on how to fix it.

Emily had to go back to sleep, but Sam sat up with Paul for a while longer.

When Paul finally left, it was almost two in the morning. He took off running through the woods, shifting when he knew he was hidden by the tree line. He tried to outrun the heartbreak, but obviously it didn't work.

You were sitting at your desk, staring at your computer. You wanted to work on your writing, but you were so angry at the audacity that Paul had.

You had done everything you could to avoid him the last couple years - and you managed to make it to the first day of summer after graduation. You'd run into him on the beach.

He was just such a jerk, acting like his words had no effect on anyone. Like he could just laugh behind your back and it wouldn't hurt.

But he used to tell people nasty rumours about you. Until nobody really wanted you around them. And then he had to take it that much farther, when you were both fifteen, he took you on a date, acted like he'd changed and grown. And right before he kissed you he said, "I know you fall for it."

That date alone triggered years of trust issues. You'd felt alone ever since.

Back to the beach, he was blocking the trail you needed to head down to get to work on time. You'd hoped that putting your head down and just trying to slide passed would work, but he recognized you. He tried talking to you, but you ignored him.

After taking a couple steps down the path he said, "don't be like that."

This made you look up, astounded that he would even say something like that. Until you finally looked into his eyes, and you recognized how beautiful he was. He also looked stunned, like he'd run into a glass door. He reached out to you, but recoiled, dodging his touch like he was on fire. Somehow, you'd felt even lonelier than ever.

One look at his face and you felt like you were missing something. You tried to keep your cool but you just couldn't. Tears brimmed at your eyes, and his friend Jared Cameron coughed, before walking to the water just to give you two some space.

"Y/N," he said, his voice low and hesitant. Making you panic, thinking he was toying with you again.

"Stay away from me," you warned, taking a defensive step back.

That hit Paul harder in the heart than you would ever know. His soulmate, his imprint, recoiling away from him defensively. He found the person he was supposed to protect, to be needed by, and you couldn't stand the sight of him.

"Just wait a second," he begged, not moving towards you again. He didn't want to scare you.

"I hate you," you whispered, and then louder said it again. And louder again. Until you had screamed it, and the tears had taken over your cheeks. Every time you said it was an arrow to Paul's heart. He nodded, and let you turn around to run off without another word.

You didn't notice him run into the woods, followed by his friend.

You called work saying you had a personal emergency, and then went back home for the night.

Back in the present, you were tearing up at the memory of it. You were sick, you think. Addicted to red flag behaviour because there was no way you were thinking of Paul's hurt face, and feeling bad for causing it. He should feel bad for all the pain he caused.

You looked at the clock, it was almost three in the morning, but you were too caught up in all your feelings to send yourself to bed. You walked to the window, and noticed some kind of animal by the tree line. You lived in the middle of the woods, in an old cabin your grandma used to live in. You moved in when she got sick but never moved out. You liked it. It was cozy. It was private.

Finally relenting, you crawl into bed and did your best to sleep.

The next day, you were walking along the same path on the beach. You offered to cover the shift of the girl who had covered yours at such last minute.

Paul was in the same spot, but alone this time. You tried to walk passed him without acknowledging him, but something stopped you. You didn't want to see him sad again, it hurt you. And it made no sense why, you'd spent two years hating him.

You were only a few steps passed him, so you turned around, gripping the end of your sweater sleeves in each hand.

Paul had his head down, but looked up when he heard you sigh. You were standing in front of him, looking so terrified to speak to him. Paul could've started crying.

"I'm sorry about yelling at you like that yesterday," you said. "I should've just walked away so... sorry."

"Don't be sorry," he said, a flash of excitement crossed his eyes, and you mistook it for something sinister. You tried to remain calm, but you were feeling lightheaded. You just couldn't trust his motives. "I deserved it."

Now that, threw you for a bit of a loop.

Fool me once, you thought.

"I still think we should just keep our distance," you said. "You kind of broke my heart."

"I'm really sorry about that, I was trying to impress the seniors. I was a tool. An idiot."

"Finally we agree on something," you said. He looked at you, and you both let out a small smile. He pushed some sand with his foot. His bashfulness made you want to believe him. "I work just up the hill. You can walk me if you want."

"Can I walk you home when you're done?" he asked, quickly falling in perfect tandem with you.

"No," you said. "But you can walk with me right now."

"I'll take it," he said.

"Why do you want to talk to me anyway? I thought you hated me," you said.

"I could never hate you," he said. "I do hate how I treated you though. Not my finest hour."

"I think your finest hour remains to be seen."

Paul stayed quiet after that. And you were oddly comfortable in the silence. You're not even sure why you invited him to come along, but some sick part of you wanted him to. You wanted to reach out and touch him. His arms just looked so welcoming, and the way he stretched his hand open and shut made you think he wanted the same thing. But you couldn't let him in, not after one day.

"Have a good shift," he said, putting his hands in his pocket.

You smiled at him ,and thanked him for walking you. When you smiled, he smiled. And you caught onto that.

Paul had been standing in the same spot every day to walk you to work. Out of curiosity, on one of your days off, you snuck close to the spot to see if he was there. And he was, leaning against the same railing, in the same spot that he waited for you everyday.

You got comfortable in a cozy little spot in the trees. You wanted to see how long he waited for you. You dozed off before you could get your question answered.

You woke up hours later, when the sun was already setting. You hated walking through the trees in the dark. You started walking on your own, but you had a bad feeling in the pit of your stomach. So you swallowed your pride and called someone you knew would answer.

Paul was sitting at Sam and Emily's table, enjoying the dinner she made while waiting for his turn to go on patrol. It was Jared and Quil out there now. Paul could hear Seth snoring on the couch, making him laugh. Things that used to annoy him, didn't really seem to annoy him anymore. Not since you started letting him walk you to work. He even got Sam to let him change his patrol times to make sure he could be there every day.

His phone rang, and with a mouthful of food checked the number. He almost chocked on his food when he saw your number. He answered, hitting his chest to dislodge the food.

"Y/N, hi," he said, big grin on his face as he stood up and walked outside. Behind his back, Emily and Sam shared a knowing look, and he leaned in to kiss his wife.

Paul noticed Jared sitting nearby with Kim, and didn't think too much of it with you on the line.

"This may sound stupid," you said, "but can you walk me home? I don't like to go in the dark."

"You never let me walk you home," he said.

"If this is a bad time, it's okay," you said, disappointment clear in your voice.

"No, no... where are you? I'll be right there." He stepped back inside the house to grab his shoes, but the sound of you gasping stalled his movements.

"I'm by our meeting spot," you said. His grin returned when you called it that. "It's so dumb, I wanted to see if you went there when I didn't work and fell asleep."

"You were spying on me?" he asked. You were silent on the other end and he laughed. "I'll be right there."

"Who are you?" you asked.

"Huh?"

He heard you scream, as did Sam and Emily who's cheeky glances turned to concern quickly. "Y/N?" he asked, panicked. He was already running outside, Sam on his heals.

"Jared!" Sam shouted, "Why aren't you on patrol?"

"Seth said he'd do it!" Jared yelled back. Paul dropped his phone, and shifted, running top speeds to where you said you were.

Never in his whole life had he been this scared. He could hear Jared apologizing for the mixup in his thoughts, but Paul didn't really care what he had to say. If you were hurt, Paul would die. Paul would simply die.

He needed you to be there safe.

I knew something was wrong, Embry thought. Paul didn't even see him show up. Sorry I didn't act on it.

Shut the shit up and run, dammit!

When he got to the meeting point, you were gone, but your bag was abandoned nearby. Paul sniffed it, getting your current scent memorized. He took off when he found the trail. He also smelled a retched, filthy bloodsucker. It wasn't one of the Cullens. No, this was different. And it started at the water, that's how it got passed their lines. Not that they had enough people around.

Paul howled, the pain in it was evident for anyone around. It was him saying get here, or suffer the consequences.

I don't smell their blood, Jared thought.

You don't get to talk about them. This anger didn't derive from a bad temper, it was fear. It was just fear talking.

Paul kept running, catching a fork in the scent trails. One way was Quil, Leah and the bloodsucker. And the other was you, all alone. Alone but alive. If he couldn't hear Leah or Quil think, that was a good sign. Meant that they'd changed back, and Leah would never do that unless she killed them.

Go to her, we'll find Leah. Sam nodded at Paul.

You were crying as you ran, clumsy feet stumbling over tree roots and your own blurred vision totally betrayed you. Someone had come out of the water, eyes red like rubies. And they were so pretty that you just had to look at her. Until the showed her teeth, forcing you to flee in fear. She was faster than you, but you think she was playing with you.

And then if that wasn't scary enough, when she was jumping down from a tree to kill you, a wolf jumped from the shadows and grabbed the woman. And it was her turn to flee. Another wolf jumped out, and you were sure you were a goner.

But it just chased after the other two. Leaving you alone and confused.

You stumbled back to your feet, running as fast as you could towards your cabin. You would be safe in there. Maybe. It was the best you could do right now.

You cried harder when you thought you heard more rustling in the trees. You were at your door, struggling to get your keys out and unlock the door. When you did, you slammed it shut and locked it behind you. You dove over the sofa and kept your eyes on the door, as if that's all it took to keep you safe.

Your phone was lost somewhere in the woods, but you could still hear them. Out there. Maybe it wasn't real.

There was a feverish knocking on your door, and you couldn't peel yourself away from the couch.

"Y/N! Are you in there," Paul shouted. Oh my God, thank everything, it's Paul.

"Paul, I'm coming," you struggled, fighting through your tears to answer. It killed him, but he was so happy you were okay.

You opened the door, and cried even harder when you saw his face. You couldn't hate him now, now when he came running for you. He ignored his usual boundaries and pulled you in for a hug. He was so warm wrapped around you. Your arms were still tucked into your chest. And his totally encompassed you.

"Just breath, honey," he said, rubbing his hand up and down your back. You tried to take his advice, but you couldn't focus.

"You came for me."

"I always will, you can always call me. I will always come running," he said. And you believed him.

"Will you stay with me tonight?" you asked, pushing yourself away from him enough to look up at his face. His features were uncharacteristically soft as they looked down at you.

"Of course," he said. He kissed your forehead, and you felt the instinct of pushing him away - but you ignored it this time.

"On the couch," you said.

"Sure, honey." He brushed his hands up and down your biceps, helping you take a few deep breaths. "I'm not going anywhere, don't worry."

"I don't understand what happened," you said, pushing yourself away from him. "She came out of the water, and then she..."

"It's okay," he cooed, "you don't have to say anything."

"And this doesn't change anything," you said. "I trust you with some things but not other things."

"Some things?" he asked, more amused than anything.

"I trust you with my life, not my heart."

"We'll work on it," he said, pulling you in close for another hug.

"Yeah," you agreed. "We'll work on it."

[requested] [part 2?]

I kind of love this?

[hotch-stufff]

Kiss The Girl

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Reader

Warnings!: angst, pining(lots of it), crying, arguing, but a fluffy ending, like super fluffy ending :)

Word Count: 3.7k words

Description: Hotch tries to deny it, but he's madly in love with you. He keeps getting this urge to just kiss you. Could it really be that easy?

A/N: not really sure what this is, but I was listening to that new cover of kiss the girl by Brent Morgan and I really wanted wrote this. It definitely took a turn i was not expecting, but I hope you guys love it as much as I do. :)

*Based off the song "Kiss the Girl"*

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

He loved you. It was no secret.

Everyone knew, everyone except maybe him.

Or maybe he did know, but he refused to accept it. He couldn't love you. It was wrong. But if it was wrong, why on earth did it feel so good?

There, you see her, Sitting there, across the way

She don't got a lot to say, but there's something about her

He wasn't the best at sharing his feelings. He was good at locking them away, and throwing away the key. But you, you made that hard.

There was just something about you. It drew him in, and he was hooked.

Maybe it was the way you giggled when you were nervous. Or maybe it was the blush that tinted your cheeks when someone gave you a compliment. Maybe it was the way you showed Hotch the happiness he needed in his darkest times.

He wasn't sure, but he knew you were special. He was sure he knew exactly when these feelings had started. It was the night of Rossi's Christmas party.

You sat on Rossi's couch, laughing along with Morgan and Prentiss. They had made some very very inappropriate joke, that you just thought was hilarious. 

"Okay, h-hang on. I need a refill." You gasped out between laughs. You made your way to the kitchen, grabbing the wine before pouring yourself a glass.

"Hey." You nearly squealed as Hotch came in the room behind you.

"Jesus Hotch, could have given me a heart attack." He simply chuckled. "Yeah, laugh it up." You playfully rolled your eyes.

"I'm sorry." He tried to hide his smile.

"Yeah, you sound it." You walked towards him, giving him a soft smile as the teasing atmosphere faded. The room was empty, and you wouldn't be able to ever work up the courage again.

"Merry Christmas Hotch." You whispered as you leaned up, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. You pulled back, gave him a small smile, and walked back to the living room.

Aaron stood there, shocked. 

Why had you don't that? Why had he liked it? Would you do it again?

The questions repeated in his head, over and over. And he realised that a peck on the cheek wouldn't be enough. 

He needed a kiss, a real kiss. Even just one from you and he would be satisfied for life. But that, was an impossible dream. Or, so he thought.

And you don't know why, but you're dyin' to try

You wanna kiss the girl

Months had passed since then and he still hadn't gotten another kiss from you. 

You two had grown increasingly close however. You were practically inseparable. Always at one of your houses, talking, watching movies, eating. You name it.

Although watching movies was usually with Jack, and currently he was stuck on repeating the Little Mermaid.

"Miss Y/n?" He asked one night.

"Yes Jackers?" You asked, looking down at the small boy.

"Can we please, watch the little mermaid with daddy?" He begged. He used those puppy dog eyes and you were sold.

"Of course we can." You heard a chuckle come from behind you and you whipped around.

"Didn take you long to give in, huh?" Hotch questioned, a smirk playing on his lips.

"Oh shut it Hotchner. Go get the popcorn." He laughed and shook his head before walking to the kitchen.

Soon you found yourself wrapped up with the Hotcner boys. Jack was curled up on your lap, his face buried in your neck as he fell asleep.

As you and Hotch watched the movie, he snuck glances every couple of minutes. He couldn't get over how beautiful you looked. 

And you were holding his son, loving him like he could be your own. It filled Hotch's heart with love and affection.

And then that song began playing softly in the background

Yes, you want her

Look at her, you know you do

The lyrics spoke a truth that Hotch was desperately trying to avoid. 

But he didn't know how much longer he could go without telling you. In the moment he couldn't remember why he hadn't told you already.

Possible she wants you too, there is one way to ask her

It don't take a word, not a single word

Go on and kiss the girl

All he wanted to do was reach over and bring you into a kiss. Just a simple kiss. 

Just to feel your lips move together. Just for a second. He almost did. You had turned to look at him, and he leaned in slightly. His hand raising. 

But the shrill sound of his phone broke the trance. His hand receded before you could grab it. And he didn't kiss you.

You were filled with a disappointment that you couldn't explain. 

Sha-la-la-la-la-la, my, oh, my, look like the boy too shy, He ain't gonna kiss the girl

Sha-la-la-la-la-la, ain't that sad? Ain't it a shame? Too bad, He gonna miss the girl

The music of the movie faded as a grim look replaced the carefree one on Hotch's face. 

"We'll be right in." He muttered out the words with disdain, sending you an apologetic look.

But you barely noticed, you were still trying to calm down the beating of your heart.

He was going to kiss you.

Did he feel the same way that you did?

All thoughts left your mind though as you felt Jack wake in your arms.

"Hey buddy." He looked up at you with the eyes he shared with his father.

"Do you have to leave?" Your heart broke a little bit at his questions.

"Yeah, bud. I'm sorry." He just smiled at you and burrows further into your chest.

"Its 'kay." He mumbled sleepily. "But we have to wait till Aunt Jess gets here so we can keep cuddling." Your heart swelled and your face lit up. Hotch was staring at the two of you, in awe. His son loved you so much. 

You looked over at him, a tear in your eye. He swallowed as he pushed his feelings aside, giving you a soft smile before getting up to get dressed.

He was screwed.

A couple cases later, and you were holed up in a precinct, everyone nearly falling asleep.

It was a bad case, a really bad case. And you were running out of time. The unsubs' latest victim only had about a day left.

But nobody could work if they were falling asleep. Eventually Hotch sighed and told everyone it was time to head to the hotel.

But of course, once there, there were only 4 rooms.

"I'm taking my own room. I'm old." Rossi said and grabbed the key before anyone could argue.

"C'mon pretty boy." Morgan grabbed another key, and walked off with spence.

"I'll go with Jj. Y/l/n, you good with Hotch?" Your face went bright red at Prentiss's words. But you nodded, looking anywhere but at Hotch. You couldn't say no, it would be too obvious.

"Y-yeah, that's fine." You all trudged to the elevator, Emily and Jj said goodnight and walked off once you reached your floor. You and Hotch walked in silence down the hall to the very last room.

He swung the door open, and you had to stop yourself from gasping. There was only one bed.

"I'll uh, I'll take the floor." You scrunched your nose at Hotch's offer and he couldn't deny how adorable you looked.

"Hotch, no. That will kill your back." You shook your head. "We can share. We're both adults, it's fine." You're not sure if you're convincing yourself or him. He just nods and gives a soft okay.

"Do you want the first shower?" He asked. 

"Um, no. I shower in the mornings." He nodded before walking into the bathroom.

Why was this so awkward? You guys were such good friends, this shouldn't be so weird. 

You pushed the thought aside before crawling into the bed and curling up.

Hotch walked out of the bathroom 10 minutes later in nothing but a towel.

Your eyes grew and you couldn't take your eyes off of him. He cleared his throat, and you looked up at his eyes.

"Uh sorry, forgot my bag." You nodded, looking away quickly. Too scared to speak. He quickly went back into the bathroom.

"Get a hold of yourself." You whispered to yourself. You weren't going to survive this case if he did that again. He joined you in bed soon after getting dressed.

Neither of you spoke, neither of you moved, neither of you breathed. It was completely silent.

After about 20 minutes of silence and trying desperately to fall asleep you spoke up.

"Hotch?" 

"Yeah?" His voice was hoarse.

"Um, I can't sleep." You turned towards him and he did the same.

"Neither can I." You sighed.

"How's Jack?" You asked, trying to bring up the mood, or to at least get rid of the awkwardness. It seemed to work because his face lit up at the mention of his son.

"He's good. He actually just asked if you could come over soon. He got an A plus on his spelling test that you helped him study for and he really wants to show you." You smiled as you listened.

"That's great! He was so nervous for that test." 

"Yeah, thank you Y/n for helping him." You grabbed his hand, squeezing gently.

"Of course Hotch. I love Jack." You muttered, and you fell into silence again.

But it was more content, more peaceful. Your hands stayed laced together, and Hotch's mind went blank as you started leaning closer.

Now's your moment

Floating in a blue lagoon

Boy, you better do it soon, no time will be better

He started leaning in, his hand moved from your own to cup your face. But something switched in his mind. What was he doing? This was wrong. He couldn't let this happen. 

Your faces were inches apart when he pulled his hand away and scooted backwards slightly.

Look like the boy too shy

He ain't gonna kiss the girl

Your face fell, and his heart squeezed painfully.

"Um, we should go to bed." You were so confused. You thought that was it. It was perfect. He, he pulled away though. Why had he pulled away?

You could almost physically see his walls being built up.

Walls you had spent so much time breaking down.

"Oh, um. O-okay." You stuttered out, pulling back  quickly.

"Goodnight Y/n." He said softly, but you didn't respond. You were too scared you would cry if you did. 

You fell asleep faster than you anticipated, but maybe you were just that tired. 

He was gone when you woke up.

You thought everything might just go back to the way it was after that night.

But boy were you wrong. Hotch had completely pulled away from you.

No longer did he invite you over, or invite you to do paperwork in his office with him

You didn't watch movies, or go out to eat, or even talk about anything other than work. It was hell.

You tried, you really tried to get him to open up again, but it just didn't work. Nothing did.

It was to the point where he would be almost rude to you. 

The team was beginning to notice. And you couldn't hold back any longer. It was killing you.

You needed to talk to him, past this wall he had put up. You needed to know why he was pushing you away. You walked up to his door, knocking on the door.

"Come in." He said softly. You walked in, and his eyes stayed trained on the paperwork in front of him.

"Hotch?" He still didn't look up.

"How can I help you Agent Y/l/n?" He asked, his voice not wavering from professionalism. You shut the door behind you and walked forward, sitting in one of the chairs.

"We need to talk." He was taken aback slightly by the determination in your voice, but he sighed before setting down his pen.

"What is it?" He sounded almost annoyed, which just made you angrier.

"What the hell is going on?" You didn't mean to be so rude about it, but you needed to know.

"Excuse me?" 

"Seriously Hotch, we went from talking almost every day, to not speaking unless it has something to do with work."

"Y/l/n…" he went to stop you.

"No. Hotch please. I don't know what I did." You begged. "I mean you can't even use my name anymore." You whispered.

"This is very unprofessional." he wasn't breaking.

"Please Aaron. Don't lie to me." You tried his first name, and he had never loved his name being spoken more than when you said it. But he had to stop this.

"Agent Y/l/n. I'm sorry if our friendship was confus-" but you cut him off.

"We weren't just friends. You know that and I know that." He had the audacity to look confused. But he knew exactly what you were talking about.

Don't try to hide it how, You wanna kiss the girl

"Please Aaron, don't pretend, not with me."

"Agent Y/l/n! That's enough!" His voice was rising. 

He didn't understand why you couldn't just let it go.

"No it's not. I love you Aaron, I'm sorry. But I do. And it hurts so much that you are pushing me away!" Your eyes filled with tears and Hotch stood there, awed that you felt this way. But he couldn't let you in. So he took that final heartbreaking step.

"I don't love you." He whispered out. You had been standing and you took a staggering step backwards. 

"What?" Your voice was small.

"I don't love you Y/n." The lie was tearing him apart. Why was he doing this again?

Tears began falling down your face. You were upset and mad and heartbroken. And you were embarrassed that this man had this much of a hold on you.

"Fine." You sniffed. "If that's how you feel Agent Hotchner." He missed the way you said Aaron and flinched at the formal title. But this was what he wanted. "I apologize for the unprofessionalism." You turned to leave, but stopped when he spoke.

"Y/n…" His voice was small, strained. You wiped away your tears. When you looked back, his eyes were glossy.

But he didn't say anything else and you kept walking, slamming the door behind you. The bullpen silenced and everyone stared at you.

It was humiliating, but you walked to Rossi's office, your head held high.

"Rossi?" 

"Y/l/n, what's wrong?" He asked, like he hadn't heard the conversation through his shared wall with Hotch. 

"Can you please tell Hotch that I'm sick and I won't be in for a while?" Your voice wavered slightly, but you ignored it.

"Y/n-" he started, but you didn't feel like talking.

"Please Rossi?" You begged, praying he would just say yes so you could leave.

"Yes, of course." You nodded and thanked him before leaving. You slipped down to your desk and grabbed your bag. 

You didn't see Hotch standing in the doorway of his office, watching you as you left, tears silently slipping down your face.

Your teammates asked what was happening, but you just waved them off and left.

They all turned to Hotch, but he was already back in his office, his door slamming for the second time that day.

You wanna kiss the girl

A week passed, and you hadn't come back to work yet. Hotch wasn't sure what to do with himself. He hated what he did.

The team was confused, Rossi kept sending him angry glances, and your empty desk was haunting him.

And then, Jack asked that question. The question that broke him just a little more.

"Why doesn't Miss Y/n come over anymore daddy?" He had asked one night at dinner.

He didn't know how to answer. "Does she not love us anymore?" His eyes were big and glossy like he was going to cry. He decided not to lie to his son.

"Daddy made a mistake and Miss Y/n is just a little sad right now." Jack didn't understand what was happening, but he wanted to help fix it. His dad had been so sad these past couple of weeks and it made him sad. 

"Daddy, you have to say sorry! And you have to do what the song says!" Hotch looked at his son confused. What song?

"What song buddy?" He asked, pulling his son into his lap.

"You know, you have to kiss the girl!" He giggled like it was the most obvious answer in the world.

"The little mermaid song?" He asked, smiling at his son's innocence. 

"Yes, remember, you and Y/n were sitting on the couch before you left for work, and you were going to kiss her!" Hotch looks shocked, Jack was awake for that?

"Um, buddy. Me and Y/n aren't together." He sighed as his son deflated.

"But why? You love her. And she loves you." He spoke, confused as to what was happening.

"Um.." Hotch drew a blank. He couldn't give this little boy an answer. Not when it was his fault. Not when he was the one that had said no. 

It was a mistake, a huge mistake. He should have just told you.  Why hadn't he?

He should have kissed you.

The first time, or the second time. He should have told you that he loved you too. Was it too late? 

"Um, buddy, you know what? It's time for bed." Hotch put his son to sleep and called Rossi, asking him to come over.

He prayed he wasn't too late. Rossi showed up at his door 20 minutes later.

"Hotch-" but he knew.

"I know, I'm an idiot. But I have to go tell her I love her too." He was rushing, grabbing his keys.

"Atta boy Aaron." Was all Rossi said as Hotch ran out the door, jumping in his car.

He was sure he was going faster than the speed limit, but he couldn't care less. He needed to see you, and to be with you. To tell you that he loved you.

His car was barely parked when he jumped out and ran up to your door, banging on it.

You heard the noise wondering who would come over so late. You were shocked to find Hotch there as you opened the door.

There, you see her, Sitting there, across the way

She don't got a lot to say, but there's something about her

"Y/n." Was all he said. You slammed the door in his face.  He began banging his fist in the door and you threw it open, again.

"Leave Hotch." 

"Please, Y/n, just hear me out." He begged. You hesitated, but moved to the side letting him in. You shut the door softly.

Yes, you want her, Look at her, you know you do

Possible she wants you too, there is one way to ask her

"What do you want, Hotch? What more could you possibly want?" He shook his head, holding his tears at bay.

"Aaron." He spoke quietly.

"What?" 

"Please, it's Aaron." 

"Agent Hotchner. You need to leave." But he didn't leave. He stood there and stared at you. 

"I'm so sorry Y/n." 

"Hotch, seriously, I can't do this. I can't." You tried to keep those tears in, you were tired of crying over him, but there was no point. You felt then slip down your face.

Words weren't working, he had already said enough. But he remembered Jacks words. 

The song.

Now's your moment, Boy, you better do it soon, no time will be better

She don't say a word and she won't say a word, Until you kiss the girl

He stepped forward and brought his hand up to your face. He leaned in slowly, and brought your lips to his. 

Your heart stopped, and you kissed him back desperately. You had wanted this for so long. You had waited for so. Damn. Long.

"Your so stupid." You murmured against his lips. He pulled away gasping for air.

"I know" his voice was beautiful.

You've gotta kiss the girl, Go on and kiss the girl

He leaned in again, kissing you like his life depended on it. He gently ran his thumb across your cheek as he wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you forward. He broke away a moment later.

"I'm sorry. I'm so so sorry. I was an idiot. I love you." A tear escaped his eye, and you brushed it away. "I dont expect you to forgive me. I wouldn't forgive me if I was you. I was awful, and I never should have lied and said I didn't love you too. I shouldn't have pushed you away."

"Why did you?" He hesitated, he wasn't sure you would understand.

"The last time I let someone in my heart, she left. And then she got hurt because of me. I couldn't risk that happening to you." He shook his head.

"Oh Aaron. I'm not leaving. I don't ever want to leave you. I love you too much to leave." You paused. "And you can't hide and be scared to open your heart. Its okay to let people in." You added softly and he gave you a smile.

You both stood there in blissful peace, your foreheads touching. He chuckled and you looked at him confused.

"What?"

"I kissed the girl." You just grew more confused.

"What are you talking about?" You asked humor in your voice.

"The song. Jack said I had to do what the little mermaid song said." You understood then and began giggling. 

"Maybe, maybe you should do it again." You suggested, a smile on your face.

"Hmm, maybe I should." And he leaned in again for another breathtaking kiss.

.....................

"And that is how me and your dad got together." Your three kids sat in front of you listening in awe. 

"Wow, so Jack is why he finally told you he loved you?" Your middle child, Tommy asked. Jack laughed as he stood up, tapping your shoulder as he towered over you. 

"You could say that." Aaron said from the doorway, you turned, smiling at your husband. 

"Yeah, sure." You giggled and ruffled Jack's hair as you picked up your nine year old daughter, Jenna. Who, in all honesty, was almost too big to be picked up.

"Mommy, can you tell us that story every night?" She asked, and you smiled. 

"Of course I can sweat pea. But now, its bed time." You tucked in your kids, giving them each a kiss on the forehead before joining your husband in your room.

You plopped on the bed and curled up into his side.

"Hi sweetheart." He greeted you with a kiss, and he pulled you into his side. "You know, you didn't need to make me sound so…" he couldn't quite find the word.

"Stupid? Clueless? Dumb?" You asked, giggling as he began digging his fingers into your side, tickling you. 

"St-stop. Aaron!" You shrieked and he let up, but not before plopping on top of you. He began peppering kisses all over your face.

"I'm glad you finally told that story. Jenna has been begging for weeks" Your youngest had watched the little mermaid a couple of weeks ago and Jack had made a comment about one of the songs. Jenna had heard one word and was begging for us to tell her our "falling in love story", as she put it. 

You had finally given in and told them, and they had loved every moment of it. Jack of course had already known, having witnessed it. 

But Jenna and Tommy had loved hearing how their parents had fallen in love. 

And a week later when you walked in the living room you were filled with a sense of nostalgia as you saw Jack with Jenna in his lap, as Tommy and Aaron sat on the couch next to them. Watching, of course, the little mermaid. You plopped next to Aaron, smiling. 

As Kiss The Girl started playing.

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

Thanks for reading! Requests are still open, so ask away! If you would like an idea of what to request, here is my prompt list, and if you would like to read more of my work, here is my masterlist.

[black-bhabie-2000]

Hii! I would like to request accidental stimulation in public by fem reader (may be she doesn't pay much attention that time about this? Or u choose ) & and then may be the Guys get flustered about this and they try to get close & get some stimulation with their S/O till they get home and then we can go all NSFW 😛 with KENNY, CHIFUYU, BAJI, MITSUYA please ♡♡ thank you for your time. Have a greattt day☆ xo

I hope I had the right idea with this.. thank you for being my first ask and sorry if it isn't right I did the ones I know and I hope you request again..

Mitsuya

You and Mitsuya have been dating for a while and you've gotten to see every side of him. Including what he's like outside of his Toman persona but you guys were about to hit an even bigger milestone. He invited you to his house. You were brimming with excitement. You stopped at his club after school to walk with him. He spotted you " Just a sec babe, alright make sure to not hurt yourselves and anything you mews up let me know so I can help you tomorrow. " with that He grabbed his stuff and grabbed your hand pulling you alongside him. The walk to his house wasn't long. You guys walked in and changed to his slippers and he led you to his room. "Feel free to look around." He said with a smirk. You laughed " How did you know !" He smiled and closed the door. You waited to see if he was going to com back in and he didn't. So you started snooping. The first thing was dirty magazines but sadly he hide them to well but you came across something better. In his closet was a bag with your name on it. What else could you do but open it and inside was the prettiest dress you've ever seen. You immediately stripped not paying attention to the door that was slowly opening and started putting on the dress. Once on you realized it really emphasized you curves and was a little too tight in certain areas. The whole time your tugging and trying to make it fit right. Your boyfriend is on the floor watching the show your putting on. " Wow you look hot babe" you turned around flushed and embarrassed. You forgot he would eventually come in. " You look very sexy in the clothes I made for you but it looks like it needs some adjustments " he smirked and stood up slowly walking to you. Your body moving backwards till your against the wall . Mitsuya leans in his hair tickling the side of your face. He grabs your side his right hand slowly sliding down your back and he whispers in your ear. " We're going to have to rip this off and start from scratch ." Let's just say you reached more than one milestone that day and Mitsuya makes you wear the clothes he designs on dates.

Baji

You and Baji have been in the same class for 2 years and yes yall both dumber than a bag of rocks. Only thing is you were more popular because of how cute your actions were. While baji was just weird. You asked Baji out and much to your surprise he said yes. You didn't know about Toman or that he looked like out of school until he asked you on a date to an amusement park. He told you his gang was going to be there and you excited about going on your first date pulled all the stops. Im talking about cute thigh highs, brand new skirt with a baby doll top that showed off your rack quite nicely 😏. Your makeup was beat in and you snuck into your older sisters makeup for the spray that would make sure your face wouldn't melt. Your accessories showed off you curvy and cute form. You hadn't seen Baji after-school and neither had he seen you. So you arrive at your meeting spot and couldn't see him. So you waited. You hadn't noticed the group of boys next to the fountain you walked past or kept circling. Draken called attention to you first with a nod in your direction "she's cute '

Takemitchy gasped "don't say that what about Emily " Draken laughed "like Mikey would let me date his sister " Mikey silently smiled to himself ready to go into the amusement park cause he was hungry. "Baji how long is your girlfriend gonna take, we've been out here for 20 minutes " Mikey whined. I don't know man she said she was here maybe I should call her ?" Baji responded. "You should've called her in the first place" chifuyu replied. Baji typed in your number and flipped chifuyu off with lead int the guys chuckling. You had hit the roundabout and stopped in your tracks a few feet in front of the boys. You picked up your phone in a hurry and answered it . You were kinda irritated " if you weren't going to be here , you shouldn't have wasted my time dumbass and hung up on him. Baji ofc looking at you and also stunned that you cussed at didn't say a word. Better yet all the boys were looking at you because one there was no way Baji pulled a baddy like you and two did you just cuss him out. You were Bout to storm off . When Baji caught your arm and spun you around, pulling you into him. You were shocked cause one wo to was this hot ass stranger and why was he so close. You went to yell at him and " hey babe if I knew you were going to get all filled up. I wouldn't have invited the gang and 'he leans I a little too close ' we could've went to my place for a study Date. He said gazing deep in your eyes and you knew exactly what he meant and it was for sure not studying. You pulled back half in shock cause you recognized his voice anywhere and damn you got lucky. You slapped Bajis chest ' hmph show me your friends dummy and walked away. Baji chuckling behind you , slyly gripping your hand. " Hey Draken the hot babes mine "

DRAKEN (kenny)

It was a comfy afternoon , the sky was gray and it was raining true peace. Well as peaceful as it gets in the red light district. You followed Draken all the way to his house and then hid when he got out. You walked around till you met the front desk clerksman and he recognized you. Though you didn't know how . He offered you some tea and led you to Drakens room. " I don't know when he'll be back and I'm not calling him so stay comfortable " he shut the door and left . You were in Drakens room your excitement trumping your guilt because you followed your boyfriend outta jealously. " It's so neat in here" you announce to yourself in a slight mischievous tone. Looking around cautiously you start to what any girl in her boyfriend would do . Look for evidence, not bad evidence but evidence. You had been strategically Looking and putting everything back in its place just in case he might get upset with you for Looking through his stuff. You did find a porn Magazine that showed you why he was dating you. You fit the body type of the page with white residue on it to a T . I mean her ass was a bit bigger but hey what's a girl to do. You had now moved on to store i.e. his closet . You opened and marveled at how many of those damn black and white jackets he has like damn Boi buy another color shit. You now completely forgotten you are trespassing cause your boyfriend doesn't know you are there. You start to strip and try on his clothes. Draken was making his way home it was still light outside and plus he needed to Chang into his toman uniform because Mikey wanted to meet up tonight. He was in the building heading up the elevators. Wondering why he hasn't heard from you all day. TF were you doing 😒, were you mad at him. He doesn't really know or care . He's just pissed you hadn't texted him all day. "I'm going to punish that brat next time I see her 😏" the elevator door opened and he stepped off with a pep in his step to change a little faster and head to your house and mess with you before the meeting. He walked up to the desk .

You had lost track of all time and now was getting ballsy. You half naked was about to put on his toman uniform. All your sanity is apparently out the Window cause you are giggle Loud as fuck. Your couldn't fit the pants but his jacket and boots fit nice and the way your ass looked hanging out the bottom of the jacket oof girl, you left it open revealing your bust just enough and you had your hair in a pony tail trying to mimick your boyfriends hair. ' I'm Draken and Mikey is my leader and son and if you wanna hurt him you gotta fight mee grrr"... you had your fist up and a very sad attempt of a bad ass face. You currently fake fighting and giggling like an idiot had no idea Draken had been watching you since you put your hair in the pony tail. (Stealthy bitch) you turn around doing a bad ass kick and scream and dive to his bed and cover yourself up. " WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE. YOU DIDN'T CALL OR TELL ME YOU WERE COMING " Draken laughed " Sweetcheeks this is my room' he approached the bed and ripped the covers off of you. You squirmed away from him till your head hit the wall. Giving Draken enough Time to place himself over you." Well hey there babe , you look pretty sexy in my uniform " his hand trailing up the side of your thigh. " I have 1 and 45 before the Toman meeting that's enough time to show you my bad ass skills huh sweetcheeks" you gasped .......... Draken was very late to the meeting that day and your brother was pissed when you went home the next day but shit that was the best sleep you ever had 😏😏😏😉🤷🏿‍♀️

[doctorstethoscope]

The Right Chapter 3 || Aaron Hotchner x Fem!Reader

Hey gang, I wanted to give y’all another update this week because I know there wasn’t a lot of hotch in the last chapter. This is a long one! 

Read previous chapters here!

wordcount: 3.6k

warnings: canon-typical harassment and violence, swearing

tagging: @the-modernmary @greeneyedblondie44 @angelic-kisses13 @wanniiieeee

It’s closer to the afternoon than the morning when you finally get out of bed the next day. Aaron had set you up in his guest room before going to bed himself, and had dutifully woken you up every two hours. You emerged into the kitchen to see him sitting at the table with his laptop open, surely working even though he was technically out on sick leave. 

“Good morning” he says when he sees you appear in the doorway. “The coffee’s still hot, if you want some. I don’t have any RedBull, though.” 

You rolled your eyes as you crossed the kitchen to make yourself a cup. “Is it still morning? It feels like I must have slept through the whole day.”

“Well, you needed it. Long night.” He tells you, and you let out a little hum in response. “Hey, uh. Your cell phone is on the counter. It was making a lot of noise and I didn’t want it to wake you.” he admits sheepishly. “I didn’t read anything, but Josh’s name popped up a lot.”

You pouted a little. “I guess I did kind of just disappear. I probably owe him an explanation,” you said, crossing the kitchen and picking your phone up.

“You don’t owe him a god damned thing.” Hotch said a little harshly, but you knew his tone wasn’t aimed towards you. 

You powered your phone on-- Hotch must have turned it on after he took it. 13 missed calls and 27 texts, sheesh. Not all of them are from Josh, thankfully. You shoot a quick text back to JJ, Garcia and Emily, who had all individually checked in when you didn’t show up at the office. With a little more trepidation, you opened up your thread with Josh. 

“Where are you?”

“You never came to bed last night.”

“Off fucking the boss man?”

 “Did I catch you before you got down to anything good?”

“Fucking slut.”

“Couldn’t even finish cleaning the carpet before you left.”

“Fucking answer me.”

“Did I bash your skull so hard that you forgot to pack my lunch before you left?”

“This is ridiculous.’

“So you’re just running away?”

“Don’t be such a baby.” 

“You are so in for it when you get home.”

“I should have killed you.”

There’s more, but you’re not sure you can stomach it. You drop your phone to the counter, swallowing back a bit of bile that has risen up from your stomach. Aaron is at your side in an instant. 

“Can I look?” He asked quietly. He’s looking you right in the eye but you feel like you can’t see him at all, like he’s not really there. You must have nodded your head, because he picked up your phone and started scrolling, but you have no way of knowing how you even told your body to do that. After a moment, he sets your phone face down on the counter, and turns to face you, placing a gentle hand on each of your upper arms. “We are going to figure it out, okay? You’re not in this alone, and I’m not going to let you get hurt again. You did the right thing. You got out. And now you have help.” 

 He’s staring into your eyes as he promises to keep you safe, and the dam breaks. All of the emotions that you’ve bottled up for the last ten hours are flooding through you, and you’re sobbing uncontrollably before you have even recognized how upset you really are. Aaron gathers you up in his arms in an instant, and you wrap your arms around him, crying into his old sweatshirt. 

“It’s okay. I’ve got you. Let it all out,” he whispers in a mantra, rubbing your back.

You realize in this moment that Aaron is truly your best friend-- you’d always known that you were closer to him than anyone else in the office, and the same was true for him, with the possible exception of Dave. What you hadn’t realized, is that somewhere along the way, your college friendships, your academy friendships, your girlfriends, had all faded into the background, and Aaron became the person you wanted to tell good news to, the person you drew comfort from, and the person you called when you realized you couldn’t get the blood out of the carpet. The realization surprises you, enough to let you get a few deep breaths in and calm yourself down, untucking from Aaron’s shoulder and dabbing at your eyes with your shirt sleeve.

 “Thank you,” you say through your choked voice, even though it could never be enough.

“How’s your head?” He asked, looking over the top of your head to the clock on the stove to see if it was time for you to have more pain meds.  

“Ah, well, I don’t think the crying really helped.” You shrugged, attempting to bring some levity back to the situation as you picked your phone back up. 

“What are you doing?” Hotch asked, eyeing you and the phone. 

“I’m calling Josh back.” You said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. 

“Okay, now I’m sure you hit your head,” he said, swiping the phone out of your hand before you could place a call.

“Hotch--” 

 “Can you at least tell me why you want to do this?” He said, and you can see the concern etched into his face. 

“I’ve got to go back at some point. I’m sure it’ll be easier for him to cool off if I’m not completely ignoring him in the meantime.”

“Go back? What are you talking about?” Aaron asked

“I live there, Hotchner. I can’t avoid him forever. Even if I move--”

“You’ll stay here. For as long as necessary. It’s not safe for you to go back there.” He says, his tone leaving no room for argument.

“Do I get a say in this at all?” 

“Not if your only defense is that you don’t want someone else to take care of you. Because right now you need caring for, and I’m not letting you talk your way out of it.” Hotch said resolutely, and you sighed. The silence lingers for a moment before you speak up again, quietly. 

“I could use some more pain meds.” You admitted. 

“You shouldn’t take these on an empty stomach. Let’s get you some toast, drink your coffee to clear up your sinuses and then you can take your next dose and go back to bed.” 

“Hotch, the day’s half over. I can’t go back to bed.” You argued, with significantly less heat behind it, lifting the steaming mug of coffee up to your face at his suggestion. 

“It’s a sick day. You’re injured. You’re supposed to rest all day and let your body heal. You won’t be arguing with me once you’ve taken the pills.”

Hotch had tried to get you to take the rest of the week off, but you couldn’t stand the thought of sitting around in his apartment doing nothing. You also knew that an extended absence would catch the attention of your teammates-- and you weren’t sure if you were ready to share all of this with them yet. That was why you were perched in front of the mirror in Hotch’s guest room, liberally applying concealer and powder to your healing black eye. Aaron had made you promise to take it easy, and you already know he’d have eyes on you all day to make sure you weren’t overdoing it. No need to attract any more attention. There’s a soft knock from the hall. 

“Come in,” you called.

“Hey,” Hotch said, swinging open the door. “We’ve got to leave in a few minutes.” 

“I’ll be ready,” you assured him, dipping your brush into the powder before brushing it over your nose and cheekbone, wincing a little. 

“When did you learn to do that?” Hotch asked softly.

“Hotch…” You responded softly. 

“Sorry, I don’t mean to pry. You don’t need to answer that.” He apologized, averting his gaze to the floor.

“If I answer, are you going to stop blaming yourself for not noticing?”

“I can’t promise you that.” He shakes his head. 

“I wasn’t… I’m not a battered woman, Hotch.” 

“Of course you aren’t.” He’s quick to affirm you, to make sure you know he doesn’t see you as a victim.

“No, I mean, this was excessive. Was he rough? Sure. Did he leave marks? Yeah, he did. But I wasn’t getting tossed around and beaten like that. He’s not really like that, normally. He was just drunk, I think.” 

“You’re not seriously making excuses for him, are you?” Hotch asked, and suddenly you’re indignant, even though you know he’s right.

“He had a bad night.” You protest weakly. 

“He almost killed you!” Aaron raised his voice, just a tad.

“He was just trying to scare me.” You countered. 

“He was escalating. I know that you know that,” Hotch said, searching your face, looking for something to profile. You didn’t blame him, you knew your behavior was erratic. You draw a deep breath, your chin quivering as your eyes welled up. 

“It worked. I’m scared.” You squeaked out, trying not to let the tears fall and ruin the makeup you’ve worked so hard on. Hotch wrapped you in his arms again and you breathed in deeply, letting his cologne fill your lungs and lull you into a calm.

“You don’t need to be scared. I’ve got your six. I’ve got you.” He reminded you, and you pulled away from him. 

“I don’t think I’m ready to share this with the team yet.” You told him, and he nodded. 

“Like I said, your pace. When you’re ready, you’ll tell them, and if you want my support, I’ll be there. I’m gonna go make us some coffee, meet me in the kitchen when you’re ready.”

You were silly to think that you could hide anything from a group of profilers-- none of them have guessed it, yet, or if they have, they’re too polite to say anything about it, but they’ve certainly noticed something. They surrounded you with concern and peppered you with questions the second you walked into the office, and Hotch’s devotion to making sure you weren’t pushing yourself too hard certainly wasn’t going unnoticed. It was during one of your Unit-Chief-Mandated-Breaks that you snuck into the kitchen to refill your water bottle. Almost silently, JJ slipped in behind you. 

“You know, you can just say the word, and we’ll all stop pestering you.” She says, and you can hear her gentle smile.

“That’s okay. If I call you off, I lose the right to fuss over whoever’s next.” You tried to crack a joke. 

“Good point.” She chuckled. 

“I really am okay, Jayje.” You assured her. 

“No, honey, you aren’t.” She shook her head. “But you’ll tell us when you’re ready, and we’ll support you even if the secret dies with you.” She laughs, wrapping an arm around your shoulders as you walked out of the kitchen together, sharing a small conspiratorial laugh, your heads thrown back as you pass through the doorway. When the ping of the elevator doors opening grabs your attention, you drop your water bottle in shock. 

“You okay?” JJ asks, bending over to pick up your water bottle as he storms through the glass doors of the BAU. 

“You whore!” Josh spat out, catching the attention of the whole bullpen. So much for keeping them out of it.

“Who the hell do you think you’re talking to?” Morgan asked, rising from his desk immediately. 

“Josh?” Emily says, the first one to recognize him. Your eyes dart around the bullpen, and you spot Reid at his desk phone, no doubt calling security.  

“You fucking bitch!” Josh says, still advancing towards you. Your brain is screaming at you to run but you can’t get your legs to move. It’s a literal childhood nightmare, playing out in the flesh.

“Come on, let’s go back into the kitchen” JJ says softly, her tone betraying none of her fear as she practically shoves you back into the kitchen. You stumble into a chair, and the sound is muted because of the door, but you can still see and hear everything through the glass. Josh takes another step into the bullpen, but Morgan’s in front of him. 

“Turn around and walk out of here, man, because there’s no other way this ends well for you.” Morgan puffs out his chest, trying to stop Josh from looking over his shoulder and seeing you. 

“Not until that slut gives me some fucking answers,” He spits out, and you feel JJ squeeze your hand, but you’re too laser-focused on the scene in front of you to acknowledge her.

“I’m going to give you one more chance to walk away.” Morgan hisses through his teeth, advancing closer to Josh. 

“I’d listen to him if I were you.” Hotch said, suddenly appearing on the other side of Josh. You hadn’t seen him come down the stairs. 

“Ah, good old boss man.’ Josh jeered. “How’s my sloppy seconds? I hope she’s treating you real good seeing as how you stole her right out from under me in the night.”

Without warning, you watch Hotch’s fist connect with Josh’s face. Josh stumbles away, holding his nose, when security comes in through the elevators. 

“I’m leaving, I’m leaving.” He says, raising his hands in surrender. He turns around to face Hotch once more. “This isn’t over.” He says, bringing his hands back to his nose and following the security officer into the elevator.

There’s a stunned sort of silence that hangs over the unit for a few moments before you hear someone break out into a sob. When you feel JJ’s hand start rubbing across your back, you realize that it came from you. The door flies open and you startle, but when you look up, you see a clouded figure of Hotch through your tear-saturated eyes. 

You hear JJ and Aaron whisper to each other, but you can’t focus enough to hear what they’re saying. Whatever it is, the conversation ends with JJ slipping out of the kitchen just as quietly as she came, and Aaron sliding into the chair across from you.

“Can I touch you?” He asked, his voice only just loud enough for you to hear over the sound of your own labored breathing. You nodded, unable to verbally respond. He smoothed his hands over your shoulders, down your arms, taking your hands into his own. “You’re okay, he’s gone. Security knows who he is now, he won’t be allowed back in the building.” He tells you, and you nod again. 

“I’m okay.” You manage to choke out. 

“I need you to take some deep breaths for me, okay? You’re going to make yourself sick.” He asked of you, disarmingly calm, as he modeled the deep cleansing breaths for you. You take a deep, shaky breath in, trying to force the oxygen all the way down into your lungs before letting it back out in a huff. “Good,” he told you. “Good job, sweetheart, keep going.” he encouraged you, tucking a piece of hair that had gotten stuck to your tear-stained cheek behind your ear. When you were finally calm enough to look up at him, you did so. “There you are,” he smiled at you. “You’re okay.” 

“I’m okay. Your hand--”

“I’m okay--” He assured you, but you flipped his hand over in your own anyways. It’s swollen. 

“You need ice.” You said, standing up and crossing to the freezer. 

“You need to sit down before you fall.” Aaron stood up to follow you, shaking his head. 

“I took my deep breaths, Hotch. I’m not an eighty year old woman.” You chastised him as you pulled a few ice cubes out of the freezer, putting them in a plastic bag and wrapping a paper towel around it. 

“My hand is fine.” He argued with you as you pressed the ice pack to his knuckles. 

“You are in absolutely no position to argue with me about letting someone else take care of you, hypocrite.” You fought back, with nothing but concern behind it. 

“Okay, fine, but can you sit down, please.” He begged of you. 

“Don’t I owe the rest of the team an explanation for all of that?” 

“They can wait. Sit down.” He said, and it was no longer a request. You sat down in the seat across from him. “How’s your head?” 

‘It’s been better.” You tell him honestly. 

“Take a few more deep breaths, please.” He tells you, and you roll your eyes. 

“Hotch, I’m--”

“You’re holding your breath. Your shoulders are practically touching your ears. Plus, it would make my hand feel better.” He says, shooting you a grin that would be wholly inappropriate for the situation if it didn’t make you feel so at ease.

You roll your eyes at him in mock-contempt, taking the breaths to appease him and dropping your shoulders. “How is your hand, seriously?” 

“I’m fine. I’ve thrown my fair share of punches.” He smirked at you, still trying to distract you, to lighten the mood. “We can just leave. You must need more pain meds, if not a nap. We don’t have to get into all of it today.” 

“Well, they all basically know now. We should probably just go to clear the air that I’m not sleeping with you for a promotion.”

“If you’re not up to it, we can--”

“No, Hotch.” You stand up, shaking your head at him through a smile. “Let’s go get it over with.” 

 The team, of course, didn’t need you to explain that all of what Josh had said was false. Your integrity and the trust shared between all of you was louder than any stupid asshole that could bluster in through those glass doors. You’d cried all of your makeup off, so your black eye was now fully exposed to the team. Aaron left a protective hand on the small of your back the whole time you spoke, never once speaking over you or interrupting. As soon as you finished, you felt silly for ever thinking you needed to hide this from them-- they were supportive without being pitying, and JJ, Emily and Garcia had wrapped you up in hugs just as soon as you finally got it all off your chest. 

“We’re going to head out, obviously call us if there’s an urgent case notification.” Aaron explained to the team. “You all should feel free to leave as soon as your paperwork is done.”

“Hotch, I’m really fine,” you tried to insist. 

“Are you gonna tell the team they have to keep working?” Aaron quirked an eyebrow at you and you scowled, knowing there was no going back now. “I’m just going to pack some of my stuff up.” He told you, turning back to his office. You followed suit, going to your desk and tidying up. 

“Hey, cupcake.” Morgan whistled to get your attention before crossing the bullpen to get to you. “If I had known--if I had seen that bruise on your face before he walked in here -- I would have taken him down myself. Hotchner showed an... impressive amount of restraint.” He told you with a humorless chuckle. 

“Thank you, Derek. But he’s not worth it, seriously.” You told him with a smile. 

“No, he’s not.” He agreed. “But you are. Don’t you forget that, okay? If you need anything, I’m here.” 

Instead of responding verbally, you pushed yourself up onto your tiptoes to wrap your arms around his neck in a hug. He wrapped his arms around you snugly, crushing you into his chest. It hurt, a little, but the overwhelming security you found with him holding you was far stronger than any pain.

You pulled away and bid your goodnights to the team, following Aaron out to the car taking off towards his apartment. 

“You were really brave back there. I’m proud of you. As your friend, not your boss. Or, I guess as your friend and your boss.” He tells you, taking one hand off the steering wheel to squeeze yours briefly. 

“I didn’t really have much of a choice,” you rolled your eyes with a small smirk. 

“There’s always a choice. You chose to get out, and you chose to let your team in. That’s not nothing.” He told you as he parked the car in front of his place.

 “Thank you,” you said, choosing to accept the compliment even though you didn’t believe him. Aaron saw it in your eyes, but he let it slide. You’d see, eventually.  At her pace, he reminded himself. 

“I was thinking I’d cook tonight. Do you have anything particular in mind?” He asked as you settled into the apartment, hanging up your coats. 

“Aaron Hotchner, you can cook?” You laughed, turning around and beaming at him. He couldn’t help but return your smile. 

“I’m not Dave, but I manage.” He said coyly. 

“I’m sure whatever you make will be delicious.” You told him graciously. “And I’m very excited to try it.”

He tossed you an orange from the bowl of fruit on his counter, and then your pain meds. “Go take a nap.”

“Hotch, I’m---”

“Nope, I don’t want to hear it. I let you spend six hours squinting at screens and paperwork under fluorescents. None of that was good for your head. Go.” 

You rolled your eyes at him goodnaturedly before going to the guest room, stripping your work clothes off in favor of a pair of sweats and an FBI Academy t-shirt. Truth be told, everything that had gone down at work had been exhausting, and it wasn’t long before you fell asleep. 

[motherjoel]

hostile (spencer reid x fem!reader)

summary: after months of trying to get pregnant and a miscarriage, you finally succeed. will you get the chance to tell spencer this time?

a/n: this is my first oneshot in a veryyyy long time so im sorry if im a little rusty! trying to get back into it :) also i know very little about pregnancy so forgive me! (i got the hostile uterus part from greys anatomy lmao)

wc: 2.3k

warnings/includes: lotsa fluff, angst if you squint, criminal minds stuff, pregnancy, miscarriage

-

“Spence, were you even listening in there? I have a hostile uterus. Not only am I feeling incredibly hostile right now, but my uterus?” you yelled as Spencer guided you to your car.

“All I’m suggesting is that we keep trying, Y/N. And I’ve already done plenty of research on adoption and surrogacy, did you know that 140,000 children are adopted by American families each year?” he asked, opening the passengers side door for you and running around to hop in the driver's seat. “And there's always in vitro fertilization,” he suggested as he reached to shut his door and start the car. 

“Of course you wanna keep trying Spence, all you have to do is stick it in and thrust,” you huffed as he winced at your harsh wording, grabbing your hand over the center console. “I’m the one taking hormone shots in my ass and drinking less than 5 cups of coffee a day,” you complained about your attempts at increasing fertility. “Who knew a miscarriage would be the thing to get me to cut down on caffeine.”

Spencer was silent as he drove back to your shared apartment, both of your minds on your struggles to get pregnant in the past year. You thought back to your miscarriage and the impact it had on you both- it had only been a few months since you and Spencer became official. It was new, and this pregnancy was unplanned to say the least. Not telling Spencer about it was the only solution you could think of at the time- until it was too late. 

You remembered the feeling in your chest, your entire body running cold after being tackled by an unsub. You hadn’t told anyone of your pregnancy, not even Spencer, but as the blood ran down your legs it was pretty clear what had just happened. Derek dragged the unsub away in handcuffs as you sat in the open back of the ambulance, a paramedic wrapping your wrist. You barely remembered JJ’s look of pity or Rossi’s concerned gaze. The only thing you remembered was the pale face of your boyfriend as you had been lying on the ground moments before trying to hide the blood. He eventually made his way over to sit next to you after a few minutes of stunned silence.

“Hey, Spence,” you whispered as he sat next to you, the paramedic finishing up and walking away.

“How long?” He looked at your stomach, fidgeting with his hands in his lap.

“Three, um, three months,” you fiddled with the bandage on your wrist.

“And you didn’t… you didn’t think to tell me?” he asked, eyes welling up as he finally made eye contact.

“I’m so sorry Spencer, I just, we never talked about kids before and we haven’t been together for too long… I just needed time. To think.”

He nodded and swallowed thickly before softy taking your hand in his, running his finger over the fabric of your bandage.

“You never have to hide something like this from me, y/n. We’re in this together and... not to be um, too forward, but I love you,” he confessed. You knew you loved him, but neither of you had dared say it. “I love you now and I always will, so you can trust me with this kind of thing.”

Since that day, the two of you had only gotten closer. Now, a year into your marriage, you were actively trying. And after months of trying to no avail, a trip to the obstetrician was called for- the obstetrician who called your uterus hostile, which was likely the reason for your first miscarriage. You could barely fall asleep for a few weeks after your obstetrician appointment, which made this early morning case call all the more difficult. The two of you dragged yourselves out of bed and began your morning routine of getting dressed and making coffee, moving in sync with each other as you prepared for the day. It was a quick drive into the office and before you knew it you were sitting in a room full of your coworkers looking at pictures of human remains. 

“Four men killed in Ohio in the past month, each left with a note written in the same handwriting,” Penelope says as you all look at the case file. You normally had an iron stomach- in the BAU, queasiness wasn’t an option. But for the first time in your career, your face turned green at the pictures of dead bodies.

“It says here that they are all men in long-term relationships?” Emily asks.

“Correction: Were in long-term relationships. Right before they died, it was reported that they left their girlfriends,” Garcia explained.

“That’s important for the victimology, but there has to be something more to set off the unsub,” Spencer commented.

“Yeah, I bet that there was a common reason for them leaving,” you suggested, closing the case file and averting your gaze from the pictures.

“We’ll discuss more on the jet. Wheels up in twenty,” said Hotch.

You all gathered your things and began to leave for the jet, Spencer walking in stride with you.

“You know what, Spence, I’m actually gonna run across the street and grab some tampons before we go, I think i'm gonna need em,” you said. “Go on ahead without me.”

“Are you sure? I can just come with you,” he offered.

“No, no, go brainstorm with the team. I’ll be right there,” you smiled at him as you parted ways. You were going to the convenience store across the street, but it wasn’t for tampons. Your stomach fluttered as the bell jingled at the entrance. The aisle for pregnancy tests was easy to find, and you were on the jet five minutes later.

“Hey, did you find the, um…” Spencer trailed off as you sat down next to him on the jet. He wasn’t one of those men who got weird about menstruation, but you knew he was avoiding the word “tampon” to save you any embarrassment .

“Yup, I’m good,” you smiled and focused on the team who had now gathered around to further discuss the case.

“So, is there any link between the men yet? There has to be a reason that they were all killed soon after leaving their girlfriends,” JJ mused. You thought back to your past fears and your current situation and something suddenly clicked in your brain.

“Wait…” you picked up the case file. “What if… what if they were pregnant?” you asked, looking up to see furrowed brows. “I mean, the handwriting is feminine, so maybe the unsub is a woman who’s getting revenge on men leaving their pregnant girlfriends?” you concluded.

“I’ll call Garcia. We land in 30, keep looking over the files,” Hotch said before you all sat back down in your respective seats, the outside of your thigh pressed against Spencer’s.

You were trying to think of a good time to take the pregnancy test- you couldn’t do it on the jet, it would be really hard to hide on a plane full of profilers. You decided that the best time to take it would be back at the hotel, but after working for hours you found it hard to focus with the pregnancy test in your bag. Excusing yourself to the bathroom in the local precinct, you snuck the test with you. You locked the door behind you and took the test, trying to control your breathing as you waited for the results. As you waited, you got a text from Morgan telling you that there was new information. The moment you finished reading his text, your alarm beeped. Taking a deep breath, you dared a glance at the stick. With shaky hands, you picked up the test and bit your lip to hold back your yelp of joy at the tiny little +. Shoving the test into your bag, you rushed back to the rest of the team to continue working on the case. You would tell Spencer this time, but you decided it would be best to catch a serial killer first.

Garcia confirmed through the phone that all of the girlfriends were pregnant and shared the same obstetrician who was a single mother with a young child. This seemed to be the perfect profile for an unsub killing men who walked out on their families, but something seemed off to you. You couldn’t quite put your finger on it, but something was bugging you about the case. You were on the way to Shelby Meyerson’s, the obstetricians house, with Morgan and Spencer when Garcia called.

“Whats up baby girl,” Morgan answered, one hand on the wheel.

“So I’ve been doing some digging and it turns out that Shelby actually has a boyfriend, Andrew. Recent social media posts show that they started dating a little over a month ago, and it looks like Andrew grew up without a father” she said.

“Right before the killings started,” you looked at Spencer from the back seat.

“Garcia, send his address,” Spencer spoke into the speaker.

“Already on it my loves,” Garcia replied, and you could hear the clacking of her keyboard as she hit send. You looked at the address in your phone.

“Morgan, that's right down the street from where we are right now,” you pointed out. The three of you didn’t waste any time getting there. You hopped out of the car and approached the door, hand instinctively resting on your gun.

“FBI, open up,” you said, rapping on the door. You waited for a moment, but when nobody answered, Derek took matters into his own hands. Within seconds, the door had been kicked down and the three of you spread out around the house, Morgan going upstairs and Spencer going into the basement as you canvassed the ground floor. You took notice of a cup of tea on a coffee table, still warm. Once you cleared the area, you made your way into the basement, gun drawn. Your heart dropped at the sight before you- a man you recognized as missing tied to the radiator in the corner of the room, and your unsub restraining your husband with a gun to his head. You kept your gun pointed at the unsub as you heard Morgan come down the stairs behind you.

“Don’t move!” The unsub, Andrew, yelled. You raised your hands when he pointed his gun at you, dropping your weapon to gain trust.

“Andrew, there’s no way to get out of this, just let him go so we can talk,” you tried to soothe him, his grip on Spencer only tightening.

“No, no, you don’t understand. These men deserve to die for leaving their children, they-they’re terrible people, I’m giving them what they deserve,” he argued, becoming frantic.

“Andrew, if you hurt that agent, you’re just as bad as the men you kill,” you began, taking small steps toward Spencer. “He’s my husband and…” you started, locking eyes with Spencer. “And I’m pregnant with his child,” you confessed. Spencer's eyes went wide, shock overtaking the previous expression of fear. You continued to speak. “If you kill him, you make him leave his child. I know you don’t want that, I know you don’t want someone else to go through what you went through,” you bargained. Thankfully, you seemed to get through to him, as he dropped his gun and collapsed to the ground, his grip on Spencer loosening as Derek moved in to cuff him.

You immediately ran to your husband, throwing your arms around his midsection as he wrapped himself around you, kissing the top of your head and whispering reassurances to you. 

“I was so scared,” you said into his chest, your voice muffled by his kevlar vest. He put his hands on the side of your face and wiped your stray tears, his own falling as he started to smile.

“Were you serious? Are… are we pregnant?” he asked, his hopeful smile spreading wide as ever. You bit your lip and nodded, squealing with joy as he picked you up and twirled you around, not even noticing the rest of the BAU had arrived at the scene.

“Hey, be careful with Y/N! She’s carrying my god child,” Derek smirked as Spencer set you down, his arms still wrapped around your waist. 

“Hold on, why does Morgan get to be the godfather?” Rossi questioned, putting on a mock italian accent, making you all laugh.

“That’s not important, what's important is that we're gonna have a baby genius running around,” JJ smiled as she walked over to hug you both, which turned into a group hug between the entire BAU. You all broke up the hug when Morgan's phone began to ring.

“Yes, baby girl everyone's safe. Actually… Pretty boy and pretty girl have some big news,” he said, putting Garcia on speaker.

“What! Tell me right now, I can't handle this!” she begged. You and Spencer smiled at each other before you began to speak.

“You’re gonna be an aunt,” you said excitedly, receiving the loudest gasp through the phone.

“You mean… you… Spencer… you guys… oh my GOD!” she began to ramble about her excitement as you all laughed, Derek taking the phone off speaker to calm her down.

“Our kid is gonna be so loved,” you smiled, grabbing his hands and standing on your toes to press a kiss on his cheek.

“We got really lucky,” he blushed, pulling you back into another hug, the world around you frozen in that moment.

-

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[itsjustmyfantasyroom]

Yellow Lines

This was requested by @onechicagomayan who asked for this:

<He how are you? I hope so. I wanted to ask you if you could make a request with miguel? And if so, in which reader is a federal and falls in love with miguel, when he catches him she is forced to use the yellow raincoat but then she tells him that she is pregnant. In this story miguel is with emily, and if you could put some dialogue in spanish.

Thanks and sorry and if I made a bad explanation you can write to me.

I love your writing, a kiss.>

Hope you like this and its what you were looking for.

Warnings: Talks of cheating (I don’t agree with cheating, this is just for fic purposes). yellow rain coat and hot oil angst, does get a little intense and of course a mostly happy ending. I used goggle for the pinch of Spanish I used, so sorry if it's wrong.

WC: 1867

Enjoy x

Your palms were sweaty and the heat of dread raged through you fast, your heart beating out of your chest. It was only a matter a time before you were put into a situation that you could lose your badge, and here you were. The files on the Galindo’s built higher and higher and eventually it was time for you and Jane to be put in undercover when the opportunity arose. You had read every file back-to-back more than once; you were briefed on certain things and you had to check in once a week.

An ad appeared wanting a new personal assistant for the cartel boss and a nanny for his son. Everything had been set up, you applying for assistant, which you got and Jane for the Nanny which she got. Moving onto the grounds the following week to get as much intel as you could to finally get Miguel arrested and bring down his empire.

It was in the first week that you had realised that the Miguel you had read about and had been briefed about was not the Miguel you had started working for. He was just a business man in a dark world that sometimes did horrible things, but mostly he was a gentleman, easy to talk to and the stories he told you about his life before and after he started on this road intrigued you. Slowly over time, he started to open up about his marriage and how much they were struggling, he worried about business all the time and Emily getting involved with and in things he didn’t want her too and mostly how the lies had started to rip them apart.

It only took one over night in Mexico for the relationship to cross that line and although you both said the next morning it couldn’t happen again after waking up in each other’s arms, it did two to three times a week and now you were waiting for the timer to go off as you sat on the toilet of your bathroom, feeling like you were going  to be sick if that white stick showed what you thought it was going too. Your boss was already on your back about more intel, Jane having more than you and she just looked after the baby. But you were in love with Miguel, yes you were doing the wrong thing every time he laid on top of you, but now there was no turning back.

You reached for the stick on the counter, picking it up. You took a deep breath and turned it over, the word ‘pregnant 4-6weeks ’ in thick black letters on the tiny screen. Your stomach dropped and the tears fell, that was your career gone for 10 minutes of pleasure. You had to pull yourself together, you had a meeting with Miguel and one of the Galindo’s major buyers in 30 minutes. As you went to open your room door you were met with Nestor and Paco, both their faces cold,

“Y/N, you need to come with us”

“Is everything-“

“Let’s go, you know he doesn’t like to be kept waiting”

You were even more confused when you saw Maria walk out into the backyard with Christobel instead of Jane. Nestor opened the car door for you and Paco got in the driver’s seat, he driving you towards the dress factory. Your heart started to pound in your chest and your stomach flip flopped as Nestor lead you towards the back room, Paco behind you. You had read all about this very room, but up until now, never been in it.

Nestor opened the door and you stepped in, fear filling you when Miguel whipped his head towards you, a look on his face that you had never seen before, Jane tied to his church pure and a portable stove with a pot on it next to him. You jumped when you heard the door slam shut and you saw the look wash over Nestor’s face when he grabbed your arm and pulled you towards Miguel,

“How long did you think it would take for me to find out?” Miguel raised his eye brow at Jane and then turned to you “Ven Y/N, ahora”

Nestor pulled you to Miguel and your body filled with fear when his hand went to your cheek, his eyes were filled with rage and you heard Jane’s sobs. Nestor walking to the set up turning on the stove and started to stir the pot,

“Miguel” you chocked “What’s going on?”

“Please, don’t treat to me like a fool. They put you in my house and you worm your way into my bed” his lips came to your ear and his hand left your cheek and went to your arm “You think because I had my cock in your mouth and I told you my feelings I would spare you when I found out” Miguel stepped away from you, walking to the pew grabbing the yellow rain coat that was hanging off the end of it and handing it to you “Put this on mi amor, show me how much you love me now” he barked.

Your hands started to shake and tears ran from your eyes,

“Miguel, please” you begged.

“Now” he yelled, his voice echoing in the room. You quickly put it on and Miguel grabbed your arm pulling you towards the pot making you look at it and you saw the boiling oil “You’re going to pour that to her and then Nestor will take care of you”

“Miguel” you sobbed.

“What did you think was going to happen? I’ am Miguel Galindo. Do you think the FBI is smarter than me? They should have trained their agents better, to not leave flies laying around where they can be seen”

“I’ am pregnant” you cried out.

“Liar” Miguel snarl.

“Por favor Miguel, I’ am not”

Miguel looked down at you and then nodded at Nestor who left the room. Miguel told you the follow him after he ripped the yellow rain coat off you throwing it on the floor and whispered something to Paco on the way past. Miguel guided you to a small office in the back of the factory and locked the door, walking to the small fridge grabbing a bottle of water,

“Why?” Miguel had his back to you “I let you in. I trusted you”

“Miguel, you can still trust me. I read the files. On paper you’re a horrible man but when I got to know you. You know how I feel”

“Just words” You muttered back.

“No Miguel. I meant everything I said” you walked up to him putting your hands on his back.

“I need to know what you told them”

“Nothing” you kissed his shoulder.

“Stop. Tell me now. What did you tell them?” Miguel roared at you turning around to face you.

“Nothing” you screamed back at him.

You pulled your phone out of your pocket, sitting the bottle of water on the table and opened your messages to ‘Mum’ who was your boss and you handed him your phone. You watched Miguel’s eye brows frown as he read message after message from your boss telling you to get information or you would be pulled from the case, and either you didn’t answer or just wrote back ‘Need more time’

“You told them nothing?”

“No. Have your people check it out”

“It’s mine?” Miguel nodded towards your tummy.

“Si”

“I want you to do a test”

“Anything you need me to do to prove it to you, Miguel”

12 months later

It has been a massive whirl wind and roller coaster from that day in the warehouse. You held Camila in your arms as you looked out over the ocean from your unit in Cuba as you thought about everything that happened. Miguel was there for the birth; a paternity test was taken as soon as she was born, Miguel wanting to make sure that she was indeed his. The rent was paid for and there was money in your account every month for food and anything the baby needed. Miguel had snuck you and Jane out of the US through the tunnels to Mexico, making you both disappear. You sent to Cuba and Jane sent to Puerto Rico, with new names and a new life. Jane told never to step foot back in the US.

You hadn’t heard from Miguel in almost a month, you weren’t sure if he was going to tell Emily, but you were grateful for being far away from everything. You had seen the US news how the FED’s finally raided the Galindo house and you crossed everything that there would be no paper trail to you for you to get caught out and be brought back to the US.

You had just put Camila down after she fell asleep in your arms, when there was knocks on the door. You went and looked through the peep hole and gasped in surprise, swinging the door open to Miguel, his face scruffy and he looking tired,

“What are you doing here?” you moved out of the way and he walked in “Can you be traced here? I saw the news” you closed and locked the door.

Miguel didn’t answer at first walking in dropping his bags and throwing himself on the couch,

“No. For now. There isn’t a trail to you. I have new documents coming here tomorrow and we move into the new apartment next week”

“We?” you raised an eye brow at him.

A cry broke through the apartment and Miguel jumped up rushing towards the cry. You gave him a minute and then walked to door, leaning on it, your heart melting watching him cradle Camila in his arms,

“lo siento, mi princesa. I stayed away to long, Papa is here now” he kissed her forehead, Miguel looked up at you, a tear running down his cheek “She has your nose”

“She has her Papa’s long fingers” you smiled back.

“What we did, what I did to my wife, my son, was wrong” he muttered “But, I loved you”

“We did do wrong Miguel” you walked into the room “I still love you”

“You won’t when you find out everything. What was in those files was nothing”

Miguel kissed Camila’s cheek, putting her back in her bassinet and sitting on your bed, his hands going over his face and you sat down next to him putting your arm around him. He told you everything he did and then looked up at you with a tear-stained face,

“A lot’s happened” you whispered.

“I’ve made too many bad decisions. They are catching up with me”

“That’s life Miguel”

“How can you not look at me differently”

“Because I saw that other man that you are. Just Miguel, not Cartel Miguel. He is a good man; he is the father of my daughter”

“Can we do this? Trust each other after everything?” Miguel looked over at you.

Your hand went to his thigh and his went on top of yours,

“It’s not going to be easy, but I want to try”

 Tags: @beccabarba @alwaysachorusgirl @lovebishoplosamiguelgalindo @jemmakates @ben-c-group-therapy