they should make it illegal to end your story with an epilogue where your main female character is suddenly randomly married and has children when she's never once expressed a desire for this previously
... well.. can't be alone in this, now i need to know which Ao3 tag you are @samirasystole @vaguedisapproval @mohabbot-enjoyer @santospilled @rose-in-red and the newest moot @highest-violet 🫶
(no pressure... 👉👈 + haven't tagged everyone #stressed but feel free to do it ofc !)
HOW is it possible that I am seeing this for the first time? Now safely installed in my tumblr short cuts folder. I am SO bad at coding that this is a real life saver.
sometimes i get the urge to get involved with the criminal minds fandom again, thinking it might give me motivation to write if i talk about it, then i think “hell no”
i’ve barely posted anything for the last few years because i don’t know if i want the engagement
Present aged Emily reflects on one of her diary entries almost 15 years later and how things have changed.
Emily was clearing out her apartment and getting rid of things she no longer needed, the book shelf filled with old notebooks being one of her priorities. Some of the notebooks had been with her for as long as she’d been back in DC and she probably didn’t need the contents any longer. Most of the notebooks were half used, filled with to-do lists and ideas for decoration at her apartment or birthday gift ideas for the team before being forgotten about. She ripped out the pages that had been used to put them in the trash and left them on the counter to be able to take into work where she knew that would definitely use them. She felt lighter for getting them off her shelf, until she reached the last book. For a moment, her hand hovered over the burgundy leather notebook at the bottom of the pile before she picked it up. She needed to sit down before reading through this one.
She poured herself a glass of wine and sat down on her couch, curling her legs up and draping a blanket over her lap. She took a breath before opening the first page. The first thing she noticed was that her handwriting was shaky, probably from all of the pain medication she was taking at the time. The first entry was from the first night she arrived in her Paris apartment. With no way to contact her friends, she thought it might be a good way to get out all of her feelings and thoughts. In all honesty, since being back in DC, she’d forgotten about it, being swept back into the busy BAU world once again. She flicked through the notebook for a moment before landing on a page that was in a different coloured ink. The red pen she usually used on her calendar felt fitting for this one entry. Her heart started to race once she remembered what she’d written about. She took a large sip of her wine before starting to read it.
Dear Emily,
Jennifer dropped off my new identities and some cash yesterday. She was only in Paris for 24 hours so it was an extremely fleeting visit. My chest felt tight when she walked away from the table despite knowing that I’d see her later. We knew that we shouldn’t have done it but I was lonely and there’s only so long I can go without seeing a friendly face. She came to my apartment last night. She stayed the night. For one night, I slept in her arms, I felt safe and everything was okay. God, she’s so beautiful. Her hands were so careful but so sure moving over my body, her fingers warm on my hips as she held me while I cried.
But, how can I cope knowing that I’ll never have that again? She has him. She has a son. She’ll never be mine. All I get is one night with her. One time I can actually be myself and not worry about being called names or disappointing stupid ambassador mothers.
We always had a spark, right from the moment I met her, but she was scared to be out, scared of what her parents and friends would think if she was in love with a woman. So for years, I’ve loved her from a distance. For one night, I was able to love her and let her love me like we both secretly craved. It can never happen again. She’s too precious, too sweet. I’ll treasure that one night though.
Before she left, she suggested playing online scrabble. That’s all I get. I can’t even properly speak to her. Just stupid little letters made into stupid little words. CheetoBreath and BlackBirdM It’s the only way we can communicate without a risk of me being found and if anything, that’s the most painful thing about this whole situation. I’m not terrified of being found by a terrorist and serial killer. I am scared of being lonely though.
How do I make genuine friendships without them knowing my real name, without being able to tell them that at any point I might need to up and leave and go back to the life that used to be mine? That’s what it is though, isn’t it? My old life. I might never have it back. The team might never find him and I’ll be stuck here in the city of love. It’s ironic that the woman I love stayed for one night and broke my heart when she left, and I know that I might never see her again. It’s a small but very real possibility. I have faith in my team but I also know what he’s like.
This sucks.
Amélie.
She didn’t know when she’d started to cry, but she was suddenly aware of the tears streaming down her face. Even now, almost 15 years later, Emily remembers how she felt writing that. It was hard not to. She cried for hours. After she wrote this entry, she almost ripped out the page and set it on fire so that she’d purposefully avoid this moment but something stopped her at the time. Maybe it was hope that in the future things would be different and she was right. Things were different. Emily and JJ had accidentally been stoned together and maybe that was Emily’s fault. She needed those Cheetos to decompress. It had absolutely nothing to do with them being JJ’s favourite snack and there definitely weren’t other options that she could have picked. She would never do such a thing.
She wished that she could go back in time and hug this version of herself to tell her how things were going to play out. The team caught Doyle and now he was dead. Emily watched him die. She reminded herself of that fact often. On the days that she woke up with anxiety that didn’t subside, she repeated that he was dead. She watched him die. She hasn’t had one of those days for a while. Not since the thing happened.
Emily sipped her wine again and reached for her phone. She dialed the contact at the top of her frequent calls. On her personal phone, it was the only number she’d called in a few months so there wasn’t much competition.
“Hey,” she realised her voice sounded wet and the person on the other end of the call would be able to tell that she had been crying but Emily didn’t have shame. There was no way she could feel embarrassed anymore. “Are you busy? Do you want to come over?” A smile spread across her face as the person on the other end of the line responded.
Emily let her fingers flick between the pages for a few minutes, letting herself feel everything; how her heart shattered when she woke up to JJ pressing a kiss to her forehead before saying goodbye and wishing that Emily would be okay in Paris, not knowing how long it would be before they saw each other again, how she felt when she heard that JJ was engaged and she couldn’t breathe for a few moments, how beautiful JJ looked walking down the aisle to get married and Emily shed a tear wishing she was the person that JJ was marrying. She’d disguised that one well. From the outside, it looked like she was happy for her best friend, crying from joy, and not like the most painful heartbreak that Emily had ever experienced.
She was pulled out of her thoughts by two sharp knocks on the door and then a key turning in the lock. She wiped away her tears, moving her wine glass onto a coaster, opened the notebook onto the page she wanted to keep and placed it face down on the arm of the couch so she didn’t lose it. She stood up, letting the blanket fall into a crumpled pile on the floor and made her way to the door of her apartment.
Her footsteps were quiet as she moved through the apartment and she stood there for a moment to admire how JJ neatly tucked her shoes onto the rack. Despite being in her loungewear, Emily thought she looked beautiful. She stepped closer and watched as a smile spread onto JJ’s face, the blonde woman’s arms opening to let Emily step between them. Emily buried her face into JJ’s neck and wrapped her arms around the woman’s waist. JJ’s arms wrapped around her shoulders and she squeezed, savouring the moment. Her voice was gentle as she spoke, knowing that was what Emily needed in that moment.
“Hi darling,” JJ whispered. Emily pressed a kiss to her neck before pulling back slightly. Her left hand moved from JJ’s waist to cup her face as she softly kissed her. A warmth spread through Emily. This was exactly what she needed.
“Wine?” Emily asked as she pulled away. JJ nodded, her nose brushing Emily’s softly. “Perfect. I already have a bottle open. Come sit.” Emily redhead for JJs’s hand and together they walked through the hallway back to Emily’s couch. She picked the blanket up off the floor and then sat down, JJ having already topped up the wine glass. There was no need to get a second glass, at least not with your partner. At some point early in their careers, they’d sat on a bed in a motel room in the middle of nowhere and drank straight from the bottle because the room only had mugs in it and they were much classier than that. The only logical solution to that problem is to drink straight from the bottle. That was a fond memory of Emily’s. It was one of the harder cases where they were so exhausted that they giggled at almost everything and JJ had ended up falling asleep with her head resting on Emily’s shoulder. Emily was pulled out of her thoughts by JJ brushing a stray hair away from her face.
“What are you thinking about?” JJ asked. Emily smiled, her hand reaching over to rest on JJ’s thigh.
“Us, back in the early BAU days, when Gideon was still around. The case where we shared a cheap bottle of white wine in the worst motel room I’ve ever seen and laughed at the most stupid things that weren’t even funny, like Hotch sneezing in the next room.” JJ hummed, leaning over to press a kiss to Emily’s cheek.
“I remember it well,” JJ admitted. “But that’s not why you called me, is it?” Emily sighed. Her partner knew her too well.
“I was feeling a little sad and wanted to see you. I was sorting some stuff out and came across one of my old journals, specifically the one from when I was undercover in Paris. I think I just wanted you here to remind myself how much things have changed and how much better they are now.” JJ rested her hand on top of Emily’s hand on her thigh and Emily turned her hand over to hold JJ’s.
“Care to share, in either spoken or written words? JJ asked. Emily reached for the notebook on her arm on the couch and passed it to JJ, the page already opened. She stood up and kissed JJ’s forehead. She couldn’t watch her read it.
“I’ll be back soon.” Emily walked into the kitchen, primarily to get a snack for her and JJ, but also to give her a moment to calm herself down. She loved JJ more than anything, but at times like this, where she was willingly allowing herself to be vulnerable, she really struggled. She opened the freezer to grab an ice cube and held it between her hands for a few moments, focusing on the burning sensation. It calmed her enough that she let it drop into the sink. She dried her hands on the towel and opened the cupboard to get the bag of Cheetos that she kept for whenever JJ was around and took a deep breath before making her way back over to JJ.
She wasn’t sure what she was expecting when she walked back to the couch, but it definitely wasn’t seeing JJ with tears streaming down her face, her fingers tracing over one of the lines Emily had written.
“Is this really how you felt?” JJ asked, her gaze shooting up to meet Emily’s when she heard footsteps approaching.
“At the time, yeah. I mean, looking back, it’s a little harsh, but it was honest and the truth when I wrote it.”
“Well, fuck.” JJ said and Emily let out a little laugh. JJ softly closed the book and Emily gently took it out of her hands to put on the table. She dropped the bag of Cheetos onto the table too and then sat down, JJ immediately curling into her side. “I felt the same, mostly, but I was also terrified,” she said, her voice so quiet Emily almost didn’t hear her. “I had the option of being happy, but in hiding, or letting myself be swept into something safe and socially acceptable. I let him love me for so many years, pushing through how uncomfortable I was at times. I think that’s what led to the divorce. We kind of grew apart and I stopped wanting the physical affection, but I couldn’t seek it anywhere else, not when we had 2 kids. I didn’t want them to grow up in a hostile household, so it made the most sense to separate.” Emily nodded, having heard this from JJ before, in their intoxicated discussion.
“And that’s okay, Jayje. I knew that I couldn’t ask that of you and it wouldn’t have been fair for me to admit that to you, so I kept it to myself. I was okay. I was okay with being friends and just showing you my love in a different way.” Her hand tightened around JJ’s waist and JJ looked up at her.
“I’m so grateful for what we’ve built now, though. It’s honest and real, and my favourite way to spend a Friday night.” JJ sat up, kissing Emily softly and reaching for the Cheetos.
“I love you,’ Emily said, her voice full of softness and gentle love.
“I love you and I love you more for keeping my favourite knack stocked.” Emily smiled, feeling content for the first time today. She was right where she wanted to be.
snowghoul
yousharknotpass
andulkaphoto
pixelskylines
vaporwave
prguitarman
