SequinSmile-x

Vic. SequinSmile on Ao3. 34 (and STILL growing up now). Ask me anything :) (she/her)

[sequinsmile-x]

Vic / 34 (and STILL growing up now) / Professional Sad Girl™/ The Fandom Menace

Welcome to my master list! 

Ao3: SequinSmile 

Links to all my works below the cut!

My asks are always open, but please remember to be kind. We are all just people writing about our favourite idiots in love <3 

-x-

Hotchniss Instagram Posts

Hotchniss Instagram Posts Series II

Hotchniss Instagram Posts - Holiday Season Version

Hotchniss Instagram Posts - Secret Relationship

Hotchniss Instagram Posts (Retirement Version)

Hotchniss Instagram Posts (London's Version)

Hotchniss Instagram Posts (London's Version) (Part 2)

Hotchniss Instagram Posts - Young Hotchniss AU

Hotchniss Instagram Stories Series I

Hotchniss Instagram Stories Series II

-x-

Hotchniss Texts Series I

Hotchniss Texts Series II

Hotchniss Texts Series III

-x-

Series

-x-

One Shots (A - E)

One Shots (F - J)

One Shots (K- O)

One Shots (P - S)

One Shots (T - Z)

-x-

Multi-Chapter Fics

-x-

Tumblr Master Lists:

All's Fair Master List

Burn Forever Master List

Don't Read the Last Page

First Master List

Flickers Like a Streetlight Master List

Fourth Master List

I Knew You'd Linger Like a Tattoo Kiss Master List

I Know the End Master List

Instincts Master List

Love Languages

Midas Touch (500 Follower Celebration)

Our Great Divide Master List

SequinSmile-x 300 Follower Celebration Master List

Stained Glass Windows Master List

The Constellation of Our Lives Master List

The Games We Play Master List

The Way Home Universe Master List

This is Our Place, We Make the Rules Master List

Sweet Nothing Master List (Birthday Celebration 2023)

Waiting Room Master List

Where You Go Master List

[sequinsmile-x]

If anyone wants to know how my week is going this sums it up

[sequinsmile-x]

Tabletop

When Emily looks up, and sees him in the mirror, she thinks she’s mistaken, that she’s seeing a ghost of her past instead of the person who is really standing there. She turns so quickly that it hurts her neck for a second, and her eyes go wide, a surprised laugh escaping her lungs as their eyes meet and she comes face to face with Aaron Hotchner for the first time in years. 

AKA photos of Thomas Gibson doing Reformer Pilates were put on the internet, and it sent this writer's brain into overdrive.

-x-

Hi friends,

Now, when I started doing Reformer Pilates a couple of months back, did I think I'd be using what I learnt as plot for a Hotchniss smut fic? No.

Should I have given my track record?

Yes. And that's on me.

Anyway, as you might have seen, pictures of Thomas Gibson doing Reformer have popped up on the internet and, unsurprisingly, I couldn't help myself.

As always, let me know what you think <3

-x-

Warnings: 18+, smut

Words: 4.3k

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

She hadn’t been to a Pilates class since her break-up with Andrew. 

She wonders if that is why she feels strangely nervous as she walks into the studio, if something about it all reminds her of her ex and everything they’d once had. She tries to shake it off, tells herself this is different - that it’s Reformer Pilates, not Mat Pilates - and that she needed to do this. 

It was Penelope who had gently pushed her into finding something to do just for her outside of work. Between Voit and all the bullshit that came with him, the loss of Will, and her kidnapping, Emily knew she was struggling. She was smoking more than she had in years and was eating most of her meals from takeout cartons in her office. After finding her all but falling asleep at her desk one evening, Penelope told her that she needed to change something, her smile kind but sad as she said they couldn’t lose her too. 

“Besides,” she’d added, her smile coy, “Maybe you’ll meet a guy.” 

As Emily walks into class to find she’s the second to last person to arrive, the room full of other women ranging from her age down to some in their 20s, she doubts that. A tall woman in a matching workout set walks over, her smile soft as she greets Emily. 

“Hi, my name is Grace, and I’m the instructor today,” she says, her stature matching her name as she all but glides over. “What’s your name?” 

“Emily.”

Grace nods as she ticks her off the list on her phone, and then she gestures to the remaining Reformers, “Just pick any bed. Is this your first class?” She asks, and Emily nods, “I’ll explain everything when everyone gets here.”

Emily looks at the Reformer, her eyes wide at the equipment that looked more like a torture device than anything else, and she sighs to herself. For someone who had spent so many years chasing death, she did enjoy the irony in what she was now doing to avoid it. 

She slips off her shoes and leaves them in the corner with everyone else's and sits on the bed, exchanging a polite smile with the woman next to her. The door to the studio opens again, and Grace smiles. 

“Aaron, you were cutting it fine,” she says, “I thought you weren’t going to make it.” 

When Emily looks up, and sees him in the mirror, she thinks she’s mistaken, that she’s seeing a ghost of her past instead of the person who is really standing there. She turns so quickly that it hurts her neck for a second, and her eyes go wide, a surprised laugh escaping her lungs as their eyes meet and she comes face to face with Aaron Hotchner for the first time in years. 

He looked good. He’d aged like a fine wine, salt and pepper flecks of grey throughout his hair, that was longer than it had ever been when she’d known him, and similar grey in the slight beard he had. The lines around his eyes were a little deeper than they used to be, but he looked relaxed, his smile a little easier than it had ever been. 

A familiar twisting in her gut, and a matching fizz in her blood, has her mentally chastising herself for deciding to come bare-faced to the studio, leaving her wondering if he thought the years had been as kind to her as she thought they had been to him. 

There had always been something between them. A static in the air that she knew he felt too, something that pulled them into each other in a way that left her breathless whenever she thought about it. Life had always got in the way. They’d been kept apart by circumstance and sadness and loss, and for a long time he’d always been her biggest what if. The thought of what could have been between them was something that kept her awake more nights than she’d care to admit, especially in recent months since Will’s sudden death. There was nothing quite like a loss that made you reassess what you had and what you wished you had. 

And now he was standing right in front of her, looking irritatingly handsome in his t-shirt, gym shorts and pilates socks. Her only comfort is that he looks just as shocked to see her as she is to see him, his eyes not leaving hers as they continue to stare at each other

“Aaron?” 

“Emily?” 

They speak in unison, and for a moment it’s just them, everything else slipping away as they look at each other, both frozen to the spot, but then Grace clears her throat. 

“You two know each other?” She says, “That’s cool,” she adds, nodding towards the one Reformer left free, the one on Emily’s right, “Come on, Aaron, we need to get started. 

Emily looks at him again as he settles next to her, their eyes meeting as they both nod, a silent agreement that they’d talk when they were done. 

She does her best to focus on the instructions Grace gives them, but as the class goes on, she keeps finding her gaze drifting to Aaron occasionally, fascinated by how good he is at this. It was obvious this wasn’t his first class, especially since the instructor knew him, but as she sees him effortlessly stay in tabletop as she feels the ache already settling into her core, she wonders just how often he’d come here. 

How long had he been home without coming to see them? 

Why hadn’t he called her?

When the class is over, Emily thanks Grace but keeps her eyes on Aaron. As much as she doesn’t think he’d slip out without saying goodbye, or even hello, she doesn’t want to risk it. He waits for her at the entrance to the studio, his hands in his pockets as he presses his lips together in a tight smile.

“Hi.”

“Hi,” she replies, chuckling disbelievingly as she shakes her head at him. “What are you doing here?”

He smiles at her, that same relaxed smile she’d seen when he walked in reflected in the mirror, and she doesn’t know what she wants to do more - punch him or kiss him 

“In Pilates, or DC?” He asks, smiling politely at Grace as she walks past them, her curiosity obvious as she tries to pretend she isn’t watching them. 

“Both.” Emily replies, “You…you never said you were back. You could have called” 

His smile fades, guilt flashing in his eyes, and he nods, “There’s a coffee place half a block from here,” he says, pointing over his shoulder, “My treat?” 

She tries to pretend like she’s thinking about it, but she knows he sees through it, that he sees through her like she’s made of glass. He was one of the only people who’d ever been able to do that, and it makes her blood fizz again, a familar feeling building in her gut. 

“Fine,” she says, “But you’re buying me a croissant as well.”

He smiles again and nods, pushing the door open and letting her walk through first, “You can have whatever you want.” 

He starts by explaining the Pilates. 

He’d injured his shoulder 7 months ago, and his physical therapist had recommended Pilates as a long-term plan to improve his strength and mobility. He’d started at Jack’s insistence and found that he enjoyed it, that it was one of the few exercises he could do without feeling too old to be doing it, and it was something just for him. As the months had gone on, he started to feel stronger and more agile than he had in years, and he carried on, delighted by his new lease on life as he slipped into his early 60s. 

“Then why were you in a beginner's class?” She asks, furrowing her brow as she sips her coffee, “You clearly knew what you were doing.”

He smiles, and she realises she’s given away a little too much about how much she’d been watching him. 

“The studio makes you do a certain number of beginner classes when you join,” he explains, “That was my last one before I can move up.” 

If she believed in fate, she’d think this was it, because what were the chances she’d pick a class on the very last time he’d be going to it? 

“So, you live here now?” She asks, and he nods, sighing as he leans in a little, his smile apologetic. 

“Jack transferred to Georgetown,” he explains, smiling as he thinks of his son, “He preferred the programme there and is planning on doing his Master's there too. And I want to be close to him,” he says, clearing his throat as he looks down at the table between them, “I want to be closer to home.” They fall into a brief, uncomfortable silence, and he looks up at her. “I was going to call,” he says, and she chuckles in disbelief, “I mean it, I was going to. I just wanted to be settled first,” he explains, “I wanted to have more than an empty house and a membership to a Pilates studio.” 

“We would have helped,” she says, “That’s what we do for each other.” She smiles, “Hell, Pen has been helping JJ and the boys move this week.”

He furrows his brow, “They’re moving?” 

She blows out a shaky breath, “She couldn’t live there anymore. Not when…not when that’s where it happened.”

Aaron nods, and his smile turns wistful. “I can understand that,” he says, and then he looks at her again, “I was going to call.” 

She stares at him, looks for any sign that he’s lying, and then she nods when she doesn’t find it. “Okay,” she says, “I believe you.” 

He beams at her, and things feel easier after that, as if it hasn’t been years since they last went for coffee together. She realises just how much she’d missed him, and she buys them another coffee each so they don’t have to say goodbye yet, so this can last as long as possible. She tells him about work, about the job that seemed to be taking more from her than it ever had, and he listens because he gets it, because he’d once lived it himself. 

Eventually, they slowly leave the cafe, and they stand in the street outside, neither one of them sure what to do or say.

“We should do this again,” she says, “Coffee that is,” she says, chuckling at herself, “I’m not sure Reformer is for me.” 

He smiles, “I think you did better than you think you did,” he says, “But yeah, we should do this again.” His smile turns nervous, and he slips his hands into his pockets again, looking anywhere but at her, “Or we could go for dinner sometime?” 

She hears what he hasn’t said, hears the years of everything they hadn’t said to each other wrapped up in his nervous question, and she smiles, deciding that for once, she was going to do something she wanted without thinking about all the reasons why she shouldn’t. 

“It’s a date,” she says, repeating words she’d said to him years ago, their meaning completely different this time around, her smile getting wider as his eyes snap to hers, hope pressed into the flecks of gold she’d fallen for years ago.

“Really?” He asks, and she nods, closing the gap between them to stamp a kiss against his cheek, the press of his stubble against her lips enough to make her breath catch in her chest. 

“Really,” she replies as she pulls back, “Call me,” she quips, raising her eyebrow, “And we’ll figure out a date.” 

“Okay,” he says, and they exchange goodbyes, neither one of them really wanting to be the first to turn away. She eventually turns and heads down the street, furrowing her brow as her phone rings from her purse. She laughs when she sees his name on the screen, and she answers, turning to look back at him standing in the spot she’d left him, “How does tonight sound?” 

“Tonight sounds perfect.” 

She’s smiling so widely the entire drive home that her cheeks ache, happiness pressed into her dimples as she climbs out of her car and starts to plan what she wants to wear on the date she thinks she’d been waiting years for. 

The date she’d been waiting decades for. 

Her eyes catch a photo of her, JJ and Penelope hanging proudly on her living room wall, and her smile slowly fades away as she realises she’s going to have to tell them about this. 

Fuck. 

Penelope was going to be so goddamn smug. 

___

There’s a part of her that is worried the date will be awkward. That the shock of seeing each other will dissipate throughout the day, and that reality will set in by the time he comes to pick her up at the time they’d agreed upon. 

She booked the restaurant. If there was one thing she knew the Prentiss name was good for in DC, it was a last-minute reservation on a Saturday night. She’d text him the name of the place and said they could meet there, but he insisted on coming to her place first to collect her, the part of him that was still a little old-fashioned winning out. 

The moment she sees him on her doorstep, wearing a suit with a tie she’d bought him as a birthday present years ago, flowers in hand, she knew she had nothing to worry about. When he smiles at her, it’s like no time has passed at all, and when she slips her hand into his in the car as he drives them to the restaurant, it’s as if she’s done it a thousand times, not like it was the first. 

They talk about anything and everything over dinner. He tells her about Jack, about the girl he was in love with and the career he was planning. She tells him about the team, about the members he knew and the ones he didn’t. Each one of them a part of the family he’d once overseen what felt like a lifetime ago. 

When they get back to hers, she wraps her hand around his as they stand on her porch, and she focuses on the press of her palm against his, how it feels like their fingers slot together perfectly as if they were made for each other. 

“Want to come in?” She offers, tilting her head towards her front door, hoping her intention is clear, feeling shy about it in a way she doesn’t entirely understand. He smiles and wraps his arm around her, tugging her closer. The press of his body against hers makes her breath catch in her chest. 

“Are you sure?” He asks softly, and she leans in, resting her forehead against his, her eyes flickering closed as his breath skips across her cheek. “We only bumped into each other this morning. I don’t want you to look back and think we moved too quickly.”

She shakes her head, and her nose nudges against his. “Aaron, I think we both know we’ve wanted this for years,” she smiles, and he does too, his eyes shining with something she knows is love, “If anything, we’ve gone way, way too slow.” 

He laughs, and he’s the one to lean in to kiss her, to break an almost 20-year-long embargo they’d imposed on themselves. She sighs into it, her shoulders relaxing as she wraps her arms around him, pulling him in impossibly closer. She rests her forehead against his when the kiss comes to an end, and she presses her lips together, chasing the taste of him left behind on her skin. 

“You’re right,” he says, his attempt to sound a little smug diluted by how breathless he sounds, by the way he grips her hips like she’s the only thing anchoring him to the ground, “We waited way too long to do that.”

“We should go in,” she replies, nudging her nose against his before she pulls back, nodding towards the house across the street, “Otherwise we’ll give my neighbour Ethel a hell of a show.” She quips, and his eyebrows shoot up his forehead, and he looks over, distracted just long enough by the twitching curtains in the front room of the house in question for Emily to dig her keys out of her purse and open the front door. She pushes it open and expects him to be just behind her, but when she turns to look at him, he’s standing there and staring at her, frozen on the spot. “You okay?” 

She briefly realises she hasn’t made sure that this isn’t too fast for him, and she feels guilty, shame flaming in her gut until he briefly shakes his head.

“I’m okay,” he says, smiling at her, “I just can’t believe we’re finally here.” 

“Me neither,” she replies, her voice quiet, as if she were worried that if she spoke too loudly, if the universe or whoever was listening realised she finally had everything she’d ever wanted, it would get taken away from her just as quickly as she’d got it. 

She wraps her hand around his again and encourages him towards her, kissing him again as he steps over the threshold to her home, a shared stride towards the future she liked to think they’d earned. 

As soon as the door closes behind them, any hesitation from either of them disappears. He pulls her against him, and she drops her purse, leaving it forgotten by the front door, the contents spilt out against the hardwood. His hands are everywhere, tracing up and down her body, drawing out gasps from her as his fingers skim the hem of her dress. 

She isn’t idle. She wraps her arms around his neck and scratches her nails against the base of his scalp, smiling into their kiss as he groans against her. She lets him lead them deeper into her house even though he’d only ever been here for a few minutes when he picked her up for dinner, but she’s too distracted to think, too focused on the size of his hands against her waist, until she feels the smooth wooden top of her dining table against the back of her thighs as Aaron deposits her on it. 

She giggles, pulling away from the kiss, breathless, to look up at him, “Aren’t we a little old for sex on the dining table?” 

“I’ll be fine,” he quips, “I do Pilates,” he adds, and he smiles as he leans in to kiss her when she raises an eyebrow at him, his lips gently pressed against hers before he pulls back, “Do you trust me?” 

It’s a strangely sobering moment in amongst everything else, the way they’d been drunk on each other disappearing in an instant as their eyes meet, everything they’d never said in the air around them. 

She nods, and her response feels like three little words wrapped up into one. 

“Yes.” 

He beams at her, and the seriousness passes as quickly as it had appeared, and then he’s kissing her again, his hand on her cheek as he holds her in place. She hooks a leg around him, determined to maintain some kind of control, and she tugs him in closer, using the opportunity to start to unbutton his shirt. She slips it down off his arms, vaguely hearing the swoosh of it as it hits the floor.

She isn’t sure who takes off her dress, whether it's her, or him or both of them, but suddenly she’s looking at the scars on his chest and abdomen that she’d imagined for years, and he’s doing the same with her. White and silver lines now as flat as they’d ever be that had once been pink and raised. Signs of what they’d survived now part of their topography, part of themselves that they barely paid attention to these days unless an anniversary of a death, or something close to it, rolled around. 

“You’re beautiful,” he says, reaching out to trace the four-leafed clover she’d never had covered in the end, the fingers tracing the outside of the brand left by another man, warm and comforting as they steal the breath from her lungs.

She looks up at him, and she reaches out, running her finger over his thickest scar, smiling softly when their eyes meet.

She wasn’t sure who had stolen more from them - time or themselves - but she wasn’t going to waste another second. 

“So are you.” 

She kisses him, her arms around his shoulders, bare skin touching bare skin, and she sits as close to the edge of the dining table as she can, rolling her hips against his as he slots between her thighs. His fingers skim up her legs, the warmth of his skin against hers in contrast to the cool table beneath her leaving her senses in disarray, everything too much and too little all at once. 

Then he touches her, his thumb a whisper against her clit as he pushes her underwear to the side, and she doesn’t recognise the sound that comes out of her. She clings to him, her arms around his shoulders and her legs around his back, and she throws her head back, her eyes closed as she gives in to it. 

As she gives in to him. 

He pays close attention as he touches her, focusing on what draws soft sighs from her and what pulls out moans. He looks at her like she’s a fine painting and he’s the painter doing everything he can to focus on the details most people would miss. 

It’s a pressure that builds low in her gut, a feeling she thinks she might drown in as it starts to press against her lungs until suddenly the dam bursts, her breath catching in her chest as she moans a sound somewhere near his name as she slumps forward, her forehead against his shoulder. She slowly comes back to herself, her senses returning one by one. 

The harsh sound of her breath.

The smell of him. 

The feel of his skin against hers. 

The reassuring words he’s murmuring against her temple as he runs his hand up and down her back. 

“Fuck,” she breathes out as her vision finally clears, sitting up a little as she looks him up and down, her eyes briefly lingering on his pants before her eyes meet his, her hands already reaching out for his belt, “You’re wearing too many clothes.”

They get his pants and his underwear off together, and she’s still trying to catch her breath, her lungs stuffed full of pleasure, when her chest catches as she sees the size of him for the first time, a question she’d always had finally answered. She kisses him, her hand wrapped around him, smiling against his lips when he groans against hers. 

He steps closer again, and both of them groan as she widens her legs a little and he catches against her still sensitive skin. She pulls back as she wraps her legs around his waist, her forehead against his as she purposely keeps eye contact as he pushes forward, wanting to remember the look on his face for the rest of her life. 

“God,” he says, his eyes drifting closed for a moment as he purposely stays still, committing it to memory just as much as she was, “You feel so good, sweetheart.” 

“So do you,” she replies, her breath catching again as he kisses her cheek and then her neck as she grasps at his back, “You feel so fucking good.” 

She rolls her hips against his, desperate for him to move, and he does, pushing his hips against hers as they start to move together, the creak of her dining table something she barely registers as they pull pleasure from each other as if they had done this before. As if they knew how to unravel each other because they’d stitched the other together in the first place. Time starts to drift around them, everything else but the two of them slipping away as they lose themselves in each other’s skin. 

She feels the same pressure building in her gut as before, and she pulls back just enough to speak, “Close,” she breathes out, “I’m so fucking close.” 

He nods, one of his hands slipping from her hip to her clit again, drawing a gasp from her as he runs his thumb back and forth over it, smooth skin, that would have once been calloused from holding a gun, firm against hers. 

She falls over the edge, and he falls with her, her name grunted against her lips as his grip on her thigh tightens just enough she knows she’ll have a bruise in the morning. A tattoo of pleasure against her skin that she knows he’ll be here to soothe, his lips against the marks he’d left behind as he offered soft apologies she didn’t want or need. 

All she wanted was him, and she knew the feeling was mutual. 

She kisses him despite them both still being breathless, and she holds him close, not wanting him to pull away, not wanting this to end. 

She chuckles breathlessly when she finally breaks the kiss, and rests her forehead against his, their skin sticking together with sweat. “Okay,” she breathes out, “Maybe I could get on board with Pilates.” 

[sequinsmile-x]

when i started doing reformer pilates i never expected i'd use that knowledge for the plot of a hotchniss smut fic, and honestly thats on me

[sequinsmile-x]

Consanguinity

“He’s so…different to Hotch,” JJ says, her lips pressed together as she tries to find the word she’s looking for, her usual sharpness dulled by the beer and tequila, “He’s-”

“Hot.” Penelope says, cutting over her, her eyes slightly glazed over as she pictures Aaron’s brother. 

Emily furrows her brow, protectiveness for the man she loves sparking in her blood, “What’s that supposed to mean?” She asks, narrowing her eyes at her friends, “Aaron’s hot.” 

In which Emily meets Aaron's brother for the first time. Or at least...for what she thinks is the first time.

-x-

Hi besties,

I got an anon asking for a fic where Sean meets Emily and can't quite believe she's with Aaron, and this is what came out!

As always, let me know what you think <3

-x-

Warnings: None

Words: 3.5k

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

Emily grimaces as she throws back the shot of tequila she’d been handed by Penelope, turning her nose up as she places the empty glass back on the table. 

“God, Pen,” she says, reaching for her beer to chase away the taste of the liquor, “I thought we said we were having a calm night.”

“It’s a celebration,” Penelope says as she sits back down, the tray she’d brought the shots on another table behind them, “You - Emily ‘I’m afraid of commitment’ Prentiss - bought a house. With Hotch.” 

“Not sure I appreciate the nickname,” she grumbles, raising her eyebrow playfully as JJ laughs when they exchange a look, and then a smile breaks out across her face. She was so happy these days that she struggled to keep it in, a lifetime of fighting to not wear her emotions on her sleeve, of learning how to hide them, useless in the face of the life she’d found herself in the ashes of her old one. “But yeah,” she says, her cheeks warm as her smile somehow gets wider, “I did do that.” 

Eighteen months ago, in the wake of the fallout of coming home from Paris, her life once again turned on its head by Ian Doyle, she couldn’t imagine that she’d be laying down roots so deep that she’d struggle to excavate them, let alone ones so entangled with someone else that she didn’t know where his ended and where hers began. 

She’d fallen in love with Aaron long before she’d ever been able to admit it to herself. She’d only been able to give it a name as she lay in a bed in Paris, in an apartment leased under a fake name, the truth suddenly so clear she felt stupid for not seeing it before. They’d come close to something a few times, their attraction to each other obvious, but life had always got in the way. For a while, it felt as if they’d jumped from one personal tragedy to another as they were torn apart and sewn back together by more things than two people should ever have to endure. 

Sometimes, when she lay in bed next to the man she loves, his breath skipping across the back of her neck and his arm over her waist, it felt like what she had now was her prize. The happiness she had earned, the happiness she had died for, something that she would never take for granted. 

With anyone else, it would feel like things were moving quickly, but with Aaron it felt right. He was kind and funny and handsome, and he understood her in a way no one else ever had. He saw her for who she was and loved her for it, even the parts that made others turn away. He allowed her to see herself through his eyes, and she didn’t think she’d ever be able to thank him enough for that. 

On their first anniversary, he asked her if she wanted to live with him and Jack, and she said yes before he even finished asking the question. She spent most of her time with them anyway and couldn’t remember the last time she’d slept at her place without Aaron being right there with her. 

Buying somewhere new was her suggestion. A home for the three of them, and whoever else might come along in the next couple of years. A home for them and the love they all had for each other to grow. 

It had taken 6 months to find the perfect place. A house that ticked all of the boxes and had a big backyard where she could imagine a swingset. It felt like a relief when they signed the contracts, when the house they’d fallen in love with after months of looking became theirs. They’d moved in last week, and it already felt like home, like the place where she’d raise a family with the man she loves. 

JJ checks her watch and sighs, “I should call a cab soon,” she says, “We have a busy weekend planned, and I don’t think I can handle going to the museum hungover,” she smirks, “Again.” 

Emily nods in agreement, “Aaron’s brother is in town, so he’s coming over for dinner tomorrow.” 

Sean’s call to say he was in DC had come from nowhere. He and Aaron hadn’t spoken in years, his absence sharp in his older brother’s life. He hadn’t come to Haley’s funeral, or made any attempts to contact the nephew who he hadn’t seen since he was a toddler. Emily knew that it hurt Aaron, that he missed his brother, but his attempts to reach out were few and far between too. They reminded each other too much of their childhood, of what they’d both spend decades trying to move on from. Despite the age gap, despite the limited number of years they lived together in that house, it had impacted them both, leaving behind scars the other couldn’t understand. 

They were brothers, but they didn’t know each other.

Aaron was anxious about it in a way that she knew he’d never admit to, even to her. It was part of why she wanted to go home before Jack was in bed, so she could snuggle up with the love of her life on the couch and distract him from spiralling too much. It was easier to focus on him than her own anxiety about it, the thought of meeting his brother, a normal rite of passage as families merged that felt as unfamiliar to her as any of it did. 

“You’ve never met him, right?” Penelope asks, a spark in her eyes that almost always meant trouble. 

Emily shakes her head, “No, he and Aaron don’t really speak a lot; it surprised him when he called” she says, finishing her beer, “Have you met him?” 

Penelope nods, “He came to Quantico years ago.” 

“He’s so…different to Hotch,” JJ says, her lips pressed together as she tries to find the word she’s looking for, her usual sharpness dulled by the beer and tequila, “He’s-”

“Hot.” Penelope says, cutting over her, her eyes slightly glazed over as she pictures Aaron’s brother. 

Emily furrows her brow, protectiveness for the man she loves sparking in her blood, “What’s that supposed to mean?” She asks, narrowing her eyes at her friends, “Aaron’s hot.” 

She scrunches her nose up at herself and her lacklustre defence of her boyfriend, but she shakes it off, blaming it on the alcohol as her friends smirk at her. 

“What we mean is,” JJ says, “Is that I don’t think you’d ever guess they were brothers.” 

Emily hums, but then shakes it off, checking her watch for a second, “How about I get us one more drink?” She suggests, turning to JJ, “And you order the cab?” 

Penelope sighs dramatically, her smile breaking through her sigh, “You two disgust me with your domestic bliss,” she says, standing up, “I need the bathroom anyway,” she shrugs off her bright pink cardigan and places it on the table to save it, “Something pink and fruity for me please.”

Emily smiles, “I wouldn’t order you anything else.”

She walks to the bar, slipping through the growing crowd, and she idly thinks of the days she would have been just arriving instead of being about to leave. She gets the bartender's attention almost immediately, smiling kindly as he walks over. 

“Can I get two Modelos and a Cosmo, please?” She asks, and he nods before he turns to make Penelope’s cocktail. She can feel someone looking at her, their gaze burning into the side of her face, and she can’t help but look, her constant need to survey her surroundings not dulled by the alcohol in her system. Her eyes meet those of the man unabashedly staring at her, his piercing blue eyes momentarily making her tense before she shakes it off. He was tall and had light brown hair that she was sure would look blonde in better lighting. 

“Can I buy you a drink?” He asks, slipping closer, and she shakes her head, making sure to keep her smile polite as she turns him down. 

She smiles politely and shakes her head, “No, thank you.” She nods over her shoulder towards the table where she, Penelope and JJ had been sitting, “I’m with my friends.”

“Tomorrow night then?” He suggests, something about his smile familiar as he leans in a little closer, “I’m in town visiting family; it would give me something to look forward to after dinner.”

She hums and scrunches her nose up, “I don’t think my boyfriend would appreciate that very much.” 

He places his hand over his heart and gasps, making a point of stumbling backwards just a step as if he’s been shot, “I should have known someone would have snapped you up. You’re too beautiful to be single.” 

“Thanks, I guess,” she chuckles, grateful when the bartender comes back with her drinks. She slips the money over to him before she picks up the drinks, turning to look at the stranger next to her, “Nice to meet you.” 

He shakes his head, “Pleasure was all mine,” he says, determined to keep flirting no matter how much she was making it clear she wasn’t interested, “But if things ever go south with that boyfriend of yours, you should look me up.”

“I don’t see that happening, and even if I did, I don’t know your name,” she says, losing her patience and her desire to be polite to a stranger she’d never see again, making a point of not asking for his name as she turns to leave. She’s already walking away, feeling his gaze burning on her back, his response lost to the loud din of the bar and the music from the jukebox. 

“It’s Sean.”

___

“Can I do anything?” 

Emily smiles as Aaron walks up behind her, humming contentedly as he wraps his arms around her and drops a kiss to her shoulder before resting his chin there, his cheek against hers as she continues chopping vegetables. 

“I’m almost done,” she replies, “We just need to put it in the oven when he gets here,” she says, smiling as she turns just enough to raise a playful eyebrow at him, “But thanks for asking when I’d already done most of it.” 

He smiles at the way she teases him, and then kisses her temple, then her cheek, drawing a chuckle out of her when he kisses the shell of her ear, “I’ll make it up to you later.” 

“You’d better.” She beams and turns her head to kiss him, pressing her smile against his before she puts the knife in her hands down and turns in his embrace, her arms around his neck as his wrap around her waist. 

She kisses him again before she pulls back, using the opportunity to study him up close, to look for the familiar signs of stress on his face. The tightness in his jaw that she once saw more than his smile, the deep line between his brows that she reaches out to soothe, her thumb pressed against it. 

“You okay?” She asks, and the way he tightens his grip on her says more than words ever could. 

He sighs, “I know it’s just dinner…”

“Hey, don’t do that,” she says. “If anyone knows how complicated family can be, it’s me,” she adds, running her knuckles down his cheek, “It’s never just dinner.” 

“Sean is my brother, and I love him,” he sighs and shakes his head. “I wish I were excited to see him,” he says, “But instead I feel…”

“I know,” she says, kissing his cheek, “But you’ve got me through countless dinners with my mother, and if we can survive that, we can survive anything,” she quips, her lips curling up into a smile. “I love you.” 

He smiles, his shoulders loosening ever so slightly before he leans in to kiss her, his lips against the corner of hers. “I love you too.” 

The doorbell rings, and his shoulders tighten again. She squeezes his hand. “Want me to get the door?” 

He shakes his head, but thundering footsteps cut him off as Jack runs downstairs and into the kitchen. “Uncle Sean is here.” 

Aaron smiles, hiding his anxiety as his son looks at him, and he ruffles his hair. “I know, buddy, let's go let him in.” 

“I’ll be there in a second,” Emily says, squeezing Aaron’s hand and winking at him as he steps away. “I’ll put dinner in the oven, and I’ll be right there.”  

She smiles reassuringly at him until he leaves the room, walking in stride with his son as they head for the front door. She quickly finishes the preparation he’d interrupted and puts the meal in the oven, smiling to herself as she hears Jack enthusiastically greet the Uncle he likely had no memory of, as if the last time he saw him was yesterday. 

She sets the timer and heads out of the kitchen, blowing out a slow breath as she shakes off any of her remaining anxieties over meeting Aaron’s brother, knowing her focus had to be on getting him through the evening. She walks out into the foyer and steps up to Aaron’s side, Jack and Sean engaged in conversation already, the man bent down to talk to him, his hair obscuring most of his face

“Hi, I’m Emily,” she says, holding out her hand for Sean to shake. “Nice to meet you…” she drifts off when he stands up straight, and she comes face to face with the stranger from the bar last night. 

Sean chuckles and shakes his head. “Well, I’ll be damned,” he says, smiling as her hand falls to her side, “When you said you had a boyfriend, the last person I would have expected it to be is my big brother.” 

Aaron clears his throat and furrows his brow. “Do you two know each other?” 

Sean smiles, “She turned me down last night,” he explains, looking back and forth between the two of them, “Never would have asked if I’d have known you were her type; I was already playing a losing game”

Emily chuckles humourlessly, her eyes flashing to Jack, who was watching them all curiously, and she curses herself for not even thinking about, let alone mentioning, the flirty stranger she was sure she would never see again when she got home last night. 

“He asked if I wanted a drink,” she says, turning to smile at Aaron. “I said no,” she clears her throat, her lungs filling with the tension that was now in the air, and she smiles politely at Sean as she leans against Aaron, making a point of linking her hand through his. “Nothing more.” She squeezes his hand, and he squeezes back, gentle reassurance passing from palm to palm. “Can I get anyone a glass of wine?” 

Sean’s smile gets wider, a sparkle in his eyes that spoke of someone who hadn’t grown out wanting to tease his brother. “Oh, so now you want to have a drink with me.” 

Aaron tenses next to her, and she holds back a sigh before she paints a smile she usually reserved for her mother. 

It was going to be a long night. 

___

She finds him in their home office after Jack is in bed.  

The evening had been as good as it could have been, all things considered, and Sean had left promising they’d do it all again soon, a certain comfort to the mutual lie that they all accepted. Aaron and Sean’s love for each other had been clear to see, but neither of them knew how to express it, two grown men who had never really been allowed to be boys together, still living with the choices their parents had made years ago. 

She knocks on the office door and waits until he calls her in. She smiles as she does so, making sure the door is closed behind her. “Want company?” 

“From you? Always.” He says, his smile soft even though she could see the sadness in his eyes from across the room. She walks over, and he pushes his chair back just enough for her to climb into his lap, her side pressed against his chest. He anchors her to him with his arms around her, one hand on her back and the other on her thigh as she rests her head against his shoulder. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,” she says, smiling when he furrows his brow as he looks down at her, “About meeting him last night,” she frowns, “Not that I knew I had.” 

He squeezes her thigh and runs his thumb up and down the seam of her jeans. “You have nothing to apologise for, sweetheart,” he assures her, “If I got mad or jealous every time someone flirted with you, I’d never get anything else done,” he smiles, “Everyone gravitates towards you.” 

She smiles and feels her cheeks go warm, still unsure after all this time how to accept his unending affection for her. “Well,” she says, reaching up to push his hair up off his forehead, “You’re the only one I notice,” she scrunches her nose up, “I’d forgotten I spoke to him at all until I saw him downstairs.” 

Aaron hums and smiles, an edge of sadness to it that was like a fist around her heart. “He was right though,” he says, “I’m sure you could do better than me.” 

It had been a running joke of sorts - one that only Sean found funny - throughout the evening. No matter what the conversation turned to, it always came back to his disbelief that the woman he’d met briefly in the night before, the woman he’d watched down shots with her friends before he spoke to her, was with his brother of all people. It was a match he didn’t quite see, even though it was right in front of him, even though he was in the house that was held together by the love they shared, the very nature of it seeping into the walls covered in photos of them and Jack. 

She kept thinking about what JJ and Penelope had said the night before, about how different Aaron and Sean were, and she realised how right they were. Sean was funny and handsome just like Aaron was, and they had similar mannerisms that came from being raised by the same people, but thats where any similarity ended. Aaron had spent years hiding the softer parts of himself from everyone except those closest to him, had learnt that they could be taken advantage of and used against you. Sean was a little more carefree, a little more rebellious. 

He was exactly the kind of guy she might have gone for at one point in her life, a reflection of who she had once been before life had left its mark. 

Before she learnt that being seen was so much more than being told she was beautiful. 

Anger that briefly flares in her gut, protectiveness for him roaring in her blood as she considers getting Sean’s number out of Aaron’s phone and giving him a piece of her mind, but she stops and swallows it down. He didn’t need her righteous anger, or her protection. 

He needed her love, and she had an endless amount of it for him. 

“There isn’t anyone better than you,” she says, cupping his cheek and making him look at her. She feels his dimple beneath her palm as he smiles self-deprecatingly, and she shifts her hand so she can press her thumb into it. “You’re kind and funny, and unbelievably handsome,” she says, smiling when his smile gets a little wider, his cheek warm after the barrage of compliments. “And you love me for me,” she adds, “I think you’re the only person thats ever really done that.” 

He sighs and rests his forehead against hers. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why I let him get to me.” 

She hums, “Well, I’m an only child, so I’m an expert”, she says, pulling back to look at him, “But I think that’s what siblings do. They know how to press your buttons - they were there when they were sewn on.” 

He chuckles and nods. “I guess they do,” he leans in to kiss her, “Thank you for being here tonight.” 

She shrugs, “Of course, it’s what we do for each other,” she says, “It’s what we’ve always done for each other.” 

Showing up for each other had been part of their relationship long before they got together. It was part of the unshakable foundation they’d built their life on, the cornerstone of the future they’d both earned. 

“Speaking of showing up for each other,” he says, raising an eyebrow at her, his smile turning flirtatious, his hand shifting from her thigh to her lower back, his fingers slipping under the very top of her jeans, “I seem to remember owing you for making dinner.” 

She hums and presses her lips together, looking up at him through her lashes, “I seem to remember that too.” 

He kisses her, and everything else melts away, leaving just the two of them and the love they had for each other.  

[sequinsmile-x]

Helloo!! Can you write a fic about Sean seeing for the first Emily and not knowing that she is with his brother? He is in shock that Aaron was able to pull Emily!

Or if you know of any fics with a similar theme?

oh heyy friend, I'm working on this. Love this idea so much and it immediately gave me an idea!!

Snippet below the cut, the fic should be up in the next day or so :)

“Sean is so…different to Hotch,” JJ says, her lips pressed together as she tries to find the word she’s looking for, her usual sharpness dulled by the beer and tequila, “He’s so-”

“Hot.” Penelope says, cutting over her, her eyes slightly glazed over as she pictures Aaron’s brother. 

Emily furrows her brow, protectiveness for the man she loves sparking in her blood, “What’s that supposed to mean?” She asks, narrowing her eyes at her friends, “Aaron’s hot.” 

She scrunches her nose up at herself and her lackluster defence of her boyfriend, but she shakes it off, blaming it on the alcohol as her friends smirk at her. 

“What we mean is,” JJ says, “Is that I don’t think you’d ever guess they were brothers.” 

[sequinsmile-x]

this will be up tomorrow btw

as always i am getting carried away with it, and the heatwave has melted my brain a little so i'm working slower than usual haha

[sequinsmile-x]

Not being able to sleep has once again led to some young hotchniss thoughts…

[sequinsmile-x]

okay friends this is looking like it could be long. Would you rather

One long one shot

multi chapter (2-3 chapters)

Voting ended onMay 30

Obviously a one long one shot would take longer, I could probably have chapter 1 of a multichapter up on Sunday

[sequinsmile-x]

Not being able to sleep has once again led to some young hotchniss thoughts…

[sequinsmile-x]

Helloo!! Can you write a fic about Sean seeing for the first Emily and not knowing that she is with his brother? He is in shock that Aaron was able to pull Emily!

Or if you know of any fics with a similar theme?

oh heyy friend, I'm working on this. Love this idea so much and it immediately gave me an idea!!

Snippet below the cut, the fic should be up in the next day or so :)

“Sean is so…different to Hotch,” JJ says, her lips pressed together as she tries to find the word she’s looking for, her usual sharpness dulled by the beer and tequila, “He’s so-”

“Hot.” Penelope says, cutting over her, her eyes slightly glazed over as she pictures Aaron’s brother. 

Emily furrows her brow, protectiveness for the man she loves sparking in her blood, “What’s that supposed to mean?” She asks, narrowing her eyes at her friends, “Aaron’s hot.” 

She scrunches her nose up at herself and her lackluster defence of her boyfriend, but she shakes it off, blaming it on the alcohol as her friends smirk at her. 

“What we mean is,” JJ says, “Is that I don’t think you’d ever guess they were brothers.” 

[sequinsmile-x]

Snare - Part 2

"It’s not like I haven’t done this before.” 

She regrets it as soon as she says it, her attempt at cheering them both up falling flat as his grip on her tightens. 

She hated this just as much as he did. Hated that it was expected that she’d do this, but she couldn’t say no. She wouldn’t be able to live with herself if something happened to another innocent woman, if she said no to something that could save someone's life. 

It was one night. They’d catch the guy like they always did, and then she could go home and go on a date with the man she loves. 

In which Emily goes undercover on a case, and it might just be the thing that reveals her relationship with Aaron to the team.

-x-

Hi besties,

I'm so sorry for the delay in this part going up!! Work and life have been kicking my butt a bit these last couple of weeks and I've just been way too tired to do anything I enjoy doing, BUT I am feeling better now and I've been able to get this done <3

As always, let me know what you think!

-x-

Warnings: canon typical violence/threat

Words: 3.1k

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

6 Hours Earlier

Emily stifles a yawn as she gets into the elevator, crossing her arms over her chest after she’s pressed the button for her floor and smiling when her eyes meet JJ’s as she does the same. 

“Are you sure you don’t want to grab a drink?” JJ asks, and Emily nods, fighting another yawn as she replies. 

“I’m sure,” she says, “It’s been a long night.” 

The moment she stepped into the bar, she wondered if their plan was a good one. She knew it was their only one, their only chance at trying to find a man who would kill again if they didn’t stop him, but she felt uncomfortable as she purposely made a point of making sure those around her knew she had come alone. She smiled as a couple of different men tried to hit on her, and she could feel JJ and Derek watching her from a distance, doing their best not to give away the whole reason they’d come here in the first place. 

She does what she knows she has to do. She smiles and laughs at the potential unsubs jokes, and she pretends to drink a drink he buys her, only to dispose of it when he isn’t looking. It’s something she’s done before, something she would have once done without thinking too much of it, but now, on the other side of Ian Doyle tearing through her life for the second time, she feels uncomfortable in a way she doesn’t entirely understand. She finds herself wondering if her friends are watching her and thinking about what they now know about her, if they were thinking of the lengths she’d gone to in the past to do her job. 

It makes the evening drag, makes her want to get back to the hotel and break her own rule and sneak into Aaron’s room despite what she’d said before she left. They leave the bar just before midnight and discuss their insights on the way back, talking about a couple of guys who had stared at her the whole night but not approached her at all, their inaction more damning than the guy who Derek had almost broken his cover to get away from her. 

“Your secret boyfriend might still be awake if you want to call him,” JJ says, and it draws a chuckle out of Emily, making her smile at the thought of Aaron in his room just a few floors above them. 

“Maybe,” she replies, and she looks at JJ, furrowing her brow at the way her friend smiles at her, “What?” 

“Nothing,” she replies, shaking her head, “I’m just happy for you, that’s all,” she says, “It’s clear that you love him.” 

Emily splutters and looks away, feeling exposed in a way she wasn’t used to, in a way that embarrassed her even in front of the person she considered one of her closest friends. “Why do you say that?” 

“Well, your reaction to the mention of love for a start”, JJ quips, winking at her as the doors open for her floor. She steps out towards the hallway but stops in the doorway, blocking it from closing as her smile changes from teasing to something a little softer, “And you just…glow when you talk about him,” she says, chuckling when Emily raises her eyebrow, “Or when we tease you about him, I guess. He’s a lucky guy.” 

Emily smiles, pressing her lips together in an attempt to control it, “I’m the lucky one.” 

JJ beams at her and steps out of the way of the doors, “Night, Em.” 

“Night,” she replies, smiling as the doors close and the elevator continues to climb to her floor. She looks at the buttons on the wall and considers pressing the one for Aaron’s floor, but she stops herself, shaking her head as she pulls her phone out of her purse to text him instead. 

Back at the hotel. A couple of people to follow up on in the morning. See you at breakfast.

She smiles when his reply is almost immediate, and she knows he must have been sitting up waiting for her to text him.

Glad you’re back. See you at breakfast. 

She can read what he hasn’t typed, what he may have typed out but backspaced out of his message. Three words that they were both holding back, despite them being obvious. It felt absurd that she was so sure of it after only a handful of weeks, and at times she worried if she’d fallen too hard and too fast. If she’d got carried away in the happiness and the safety of it all, as if her sharpened edges had been softened by the act of falling in love in a way she once thought was for terrible straight-to-TV movies. 

She just wished found him sooner, or given in to the obvious feelings she had for him years ago. She wanted more time with him, wanted to have everything with him, and she knew they’d wasted so much time already. 

She walks to her room with her phone in hand, her thumb over the keyboard on the screen as she wonders if she should just say it, if she should just type it out and send it and give them both until the morning to settle in the feeling of it. She stops outside of her room, phone still in one hand, as she digs through her purse for her keycard, cursing under her breath as it remains the one barrier between her and a few hours' sleep. 

It distracts her, working in tandem with her exhaustion against her usually sharp reflexes as a man appears from the stairwell opposite her room. 

He presses a knife into her back and tells her that if she screams, he’ll kill her, and she believes him.

She’d been staring at photos of his handiwork for days, after all. 

___

Aaron feels like he can’t breathe. 

The panic is familiar, greeting him like an old friend as it floods his lungs, bubbling deep in his chest as he paces the conference room, his fists clenched tight at his sides, his shoulders so tight he thinks he might snap in two. 

He should have checked on her. 

It’s a thought he can’t shake off, something that rolls over in his mind again and again as the team gathers in the precinct, all wide-eyed and terrified as they scramble to go over the notes they made the night before, desperate to find something that could tell them who took Emily. He’s angry at himself for not going to the club, for not insisting she come to his room when she came back, so he could make sure she was okay. He’s furious that he let her and the team talk him into a plan he hadn’t liked in the first place. He’s angry that he didn’t tell her that he loves her, even though he’s sure she knows, because if the worst happened, if he never got the chance to tell her, it would be one of the biggest regrets of his life. 

“Anything?” He asks as he turns to look at the team, each one of them scrambling as they go through case files, the irritation in his voice clear even to him. He clenches his jaw when they shake their heads, and he turns to JJ, “Try Garcia again, see if she’s getting anywhere with the CCTV.” 

Derek sighs, “I spoke to her 5 minutes ago, she said she’d call if she had anything.” 

“Call her now,” Aaron says, still looking at JJ, ignoring that Derek had spoken at all, “We don’t have time to waste.” 

“Hotch-”

“We have no idea how long this guy holds them before he…” he drifts off and clears his throat, knowing he didn’t have to say what all of them were thinking. 

No one had to imagine what it was like to lose her. 

“I’ll call,” JJ says, pulling her phone out of her pocket, looking back and forth between Aaron and Derek, the tension between them palpable, thick in the air like syrup the rest of them had to wade through. “It’s not a problem.” 

Aaron nods as JJ walks off, already dialling as she finds solace in a corner of the room, and he continues to pace, his fists still clenched at his sides. He focuses on the burn of his blunt nails against his palms, making himself feel that instead of the overwhelming fear churning in his gut. 

He couldn’t lose another woman he loved. 

Not to this job. 

Not in any way. 

He knew he wouldn’t come back from it, that it would crack him open at the seams, tear him apart in the places she’d helped stitch him back together.  

“Hotch,” JJ says, walking over and holding up her phone, putting it on speaker as she drops it to the conference table, “Garcia has something.” 

Aaron’s eyes briefly meet Derek’s as they gather around the phone, the tension in the room somehow building instead of lessening, all of them desperate to find her and unwilling to waver in the way they thought was best to do so.

“The hotel’s CCTV wasn’t working on Emily’s floor,” Penelope says quickly, talking at a speed that she only ever seemed to be able to when one of them was in danger, something they’d experienced more times than Aaron cared to think about, “But it was outside and in the stairwell, and I got the guy.” 

Aaron sighs, gripping onto the chair in front of him, his knuckles bone white, “Did you get his face?” 

“Unfortunately, the hotel last seemed to update their software somewhere around the Stone Age,” Penelope complains, “But it’s nothing I haven’t been able to get past. I’ll send some images over and run them through the database to see if we get a hit.” 

“If the image isn’t clear, we might get hundreds of hits,” Spencer says, and Aaron nods, his patience unravelling by the second, each thread of it giving way one by one. 

“But not hundreds of people who live here,” Aaron says, not trying to cover his irritation, all of his energy focused on keeping himself as together as he can. “Garcia, send those photos immediately.” 

“Already on their way over,” she says, “And I’ll send everything from the database too.”

The call ends, and they all stand there in silence for a few seconds before Dave shakes his head. 

“It doesn’t make any sense,” he says, “Why take a risk like taking her from somewhere he may be seen after he’s been so careful?” 

“He’s devolving.” Aaron says simply, “He saw his chance, saw she was alone, and he took it.” He sighs, “I knew this was a bad idea.” 

“It was our only option,” Derek counters, shaking his head, “And it’s not like she hasn’t done this before.” 

It’s like he can feel something snap in him, everything he’d been trying to hold together giving way in a single second as he turns to look at the other man, “What did you just say?” 

Derek sighs and shakes his head, his brain catching up with the rest of him as he sighs, “That’s not what I meant-”

“Then what did you mean?” Aaron spits out, stepping closer, his fists still clenched at his side, anger that was as genetic as the smile he’d passed down to his son pumping through his veins. 

“Aaron,” Dave says, his hand on his shoulder as he pulls him back, “You need to take a minute.” He wants to argue, but he knows Dave is right, knows that he can’t be any good to Emily if he’s like this. He takes a step back and turns from Derek, his shoulders tight as he does his best to keep himself together. “It’s not like you to be this agitated,” he says, shaking his head as he looks around the room, “Anyone would think…” he drifts off and then, despite everything, smiles, “Well, I’ll be damned. How long?” 

The revelation settles over the room, every one of them staring at him, varying degrees of shock written across their faces, and he sighs, “6 weeks. We were going to tell you-”

Derek scoffs and shakes his head, “Of course you were.” 

“It’s not what you think,” Aaron says, and Derek chuckles.

“What do you think I’m thinking, Hotch?” He asks, shaking his head, “Because I’m thinking that every time Emily goes missing, I find out that she’s been sleeping with someone she shouldn’t be.” 

Aaron steps forward again, “Don’t talk about the woman I lov…” he clears his throat and starts  again, all too aware of what he’d almost said, what he knew they’d heard despite his stopping himself, “Don’t talk about her that way.” 

Derek clenches his jaw, but his response is cut off by JJ whose holding her phone again, and he wonders when she got a call, how he missed it in amongst everything else. 

“Pen has a name,” she says, drawing everyone's attention back to her, “He knew the first victim personally.”

“Do we have his address?” Aaron asks, and she nods in response, “Then let’s go.”

He ignores how they all stare at him as they get ready to go, and feels their gazes drifting to him as they brief the local cops, and he hopes more than anything that he gets to tell her how he feels about her, and that the only time he comes close to admitting it isn’t in anger to their friends. 

___

She knows the moment the team knows the moment they burst into the basement that she’s spent the last 8 hours in. 

Aaron isn’t with them; his absence as sharp as the knife she’d been threatened with what felt like days ago. Dave smirks at her as he unties her wrists, and he nods up the stairs towards the front door. 

“I made him wait outside.” He says, before he pulls her into a hug, quick and brief, his relief passing from his chest to hers, “Glad you’re okay, kid.” 

She smiles at him and stands up, groaning as it feels like her entire body protests, “Thanks,” she says, “But don’t call me kid. I’m 41.” 

He shrugs as he stands up too, winking at her as he does so, “Eh, still young enough to have time to have it all.” 

She thinks she might hate him for being able to read her so well, for being able to soothe the fears she hadn’t been able to put into words, and she shakes her head as she goes. She’s stopped by the team as she goes, pulled into hugs that bewilder the locals, who were already busy marking up the house as a crime scene. She knows what her friends aren’t saying, can feel in the way they pull her into hugs, relief alone not enough to heal the wounds that hadn’t closed all the way after they buried her. 

She sees him the moment she gets outside, and he runs to her, pulling her into a hug so fierce it makes her wince. 

“Sorry,” he mumbles, trying to pull back, but she stops him, her hands on his shoulders as she holds him in place. 

“It’s okay,” she says, “It’s just my ribs,” she adds, smiling for his sake, “I’ve survived worse.” 

He sighs, and he squeezes her hips, “We need to get you seen by a paramedic.” 

“In a minute,” she says, knowing it wasn’t worth arguing, that she’d want him to be checked out if their roles were reversed, “I need to tell you something first.” 

He nods and rests his forehead against hers, “I know.” 

“Let me say it,” she says, smiling as she runs her fingers through his hair. For a moment, it’s just them. Everything else fades away - the sirens of the ambulance that had been called, the cops running in and out of the house she’d been kept in, her captor fighting being put in the back of a car. It’s just them, and a moment that was so imperfect it became perfect. “I love you.”

He beams at her, a smile she can picture on the faces of the kids she hopes they’ll share, and he kisses her. A quick thing pressed against her lips before he pulls back to look at her. 

“I love you too,” he replies, “I’m so glad you’re okay.” 

“Me too,” she says, squeezing his hand, “That was…” she blows out a shaky breath, and he squeezes her hand.

“Want to talk about it?” He asks, and she shakes her head, looking around them, their lack of privacy becoming more obvious by the second. “Later?” 

She nods, “Later?” 

“Can you please get looked at by an EMT?” He asks, and she chuckles before she winces again, looking down at herself, “Your ribs?” 

“No,” she groans, scrunching her nose up, “I’m still wearing this damn dress,” she says, “I can’t tell if I’m overdressed or underdressed.” 

He smiles, and he shrugs off his suit jacket, encouraging her to turn around as he places it on her shoulders, “I don’t think there is a dress code for being kidnapped, sweetheart.’

She laughs as she slips her hand into his and lets him lead her towards the ambulance. Derek walks past them, his smile tight and fleeting as he looks them up and down, his eyes lingering on their joint hands before he turns to talk to one of the cops near him.

“What was that all about?” She asks, and Aaron squeezes her hand a little tighter, an involuntary reaction that tells her everything she needs to know, “Later?” 

“Later,” he repeats, clearing his throat, “They all know. I…they all know.” 

“I know,” she replies, “It’s okay,” she says, squeezing his hand again, “I love you.” 

Now she’d said it, she had no idea why she’d been so worried in the first place. Loving him, no matter how much it meant she now had to lose, was the bravest thing she’d ever done. 

“I love you too.” 

They had a lot to talk about, the reveal of their relationship being one of them, but for now, she wanted to sit in the love she felt for him and the comfort in knowing he loved her back. 

Everything else could wait. 

They had plenty of time. 

[sequinsmile-x]

In other news, I saw a tiktok of a teenager refusing to let his parents back in the house after they got home later than planned, and it SCREAMED Jack and Hotchniss to me, so I will 1000% be writing something along those lines

[sequinsmile-x]

life is seriously kicking my butt at the moment and I am freaking exhausted.

turns out, waiting for major surgery for over a year and then actually getting close to having that surgery is a bit of a mind fuck...who knew??

Anyway, Snare is giving me a bit of trouble, but I have nothing to do tomorrow except write and sit in the sunshine, so I'm hoping to get it (or something) out tomorrow.

In the meantime, snippet below the cut <3

He feels like he can’t breathe. 

The panic is familiar, greeting him like an old friend as it floods his lungs, bubbling deep in his chest as he paces the conference room, his fists clenched tight at his sides, his shoulders so tight he thinks he might snap in two. 

He should have checked on her. 

[sequinsmile-x]

Hi! 💖 I just wanted to say that I absolutely love your Hotchniss fics, seriously 😭 I’ve read so many of them and I always get super invested in the way you write them.

I really like coming up with stories and scenarios for this ship, but I don’t really have the talent/confidence to write fanfiction myself lol, so I wanted to ask if

you ever accept ideas/prompts from readers 👀 It’s just because I adore your stories and thought maybe you’d enjoy hearing some of my ideas! But if you don’t want to or can’t, that’s totally okay too 🫶

Thank you so so much <3 this really means the world to me!

I do accept prompts, sometimes it takes me a while to get round to them but I do accept them.

My inbox is always open <3

[sequinsmile-x]

bestieee, I was just rereading Bait and I am now obsessing about how Aaron’s reaction would be if Emily was the bait and something happened to her, esp when the team doesn’t know about them yet. Have you written one like this? If not, would you consider writing it? love you so much <3

hi friend,

I have loved this idea since I got this anon, but this fic was giving me grief for some reason!! It took me a while to get it right in my head but I've got there!!

This will be a two parter, and I hope you enjoy <3

-x-

Snare

"It’s not like I haven’t done this before.” 

She regrets it as soon as she says it, her attempt at cheering them both up falling flat as his grip on her tightens. 

She hated this just as much as he did. Hated that it was expected that she’d do this, but she couldn’t say no. She wouldn’t be able to live with herself if something happened to another innocent woman, if she said no to something that could save someone's life. 

It was one night. They’d catch the guy like they always did, and then she could go home and go on a date with the man she loves. 

In which Emily goes undercover on a case, and it might just be the thing that reveals her relationship with Aaron to the team.

Part 1/2

-x-

Words: 3.2k

Warnings: canon typical violence/threat

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

Emily sighs as she looks at her watch, wondering how only five minutes could have passed since she last checked. Time was moving like syrup around her, thick and cloying and the only thing between her and her weekend. 

She does her best to contain a smile as she looks up at Aaron’s office for a moment before she shakes her head at herself and returns to her paperwork, determined to get as much done as she can before the day is out. 

She had a date to get ready for. 

Who would have thought that after everything, it was Aaron Hotchner who’d turn her into a romantic?

She’d always assumed that she’d ask him out. That she’d get bored with waiting, that she’d finally give in after years of almosts, years of long looks and flushed cheeks that they’d both done their best to ignore, but it was him. He’d asked her one night at his place, Jack asleep in his room just down the hall and a bottle of wine on the coffee table between them. Aaron was nervous as he clumsily asked her on a date, the complete opposite of the man she’d sat with in countless interrogation rooms with, and it made her smile so much her cheeks ached. Her answer a kiss she stamped against his lips - their first kiss - before he could really finish asking the question. 

It had been well over a month now, and it was everything she’d always secretly hoped it would be. He was kind and funny, he made her feel safe in a way she hadn’t in a long time, and he was incredible in bed. He knew when to push her and when to let her do things on her own, as if he had some kind of manual on how to be Emily Prentiss’s perfect boyfriend. 

If she believed in soul mates, if she believed that there was one perfect person out there for everyone, she’d know that he was hers. 

“Em, any plans this weekend?”

JJ’s question pulls her out of her reverie, and it takes a second for it to register. Emily clears her throat and tries to make herself look busy as she answers. 

“Got a date tonight,” she says, “And I’m hoping it will end up lasting all weekend.” 

Derek rolls closer on his chair, any pretence at working long gone, and he grins at her, “Are we ever going to meet this mystery boyfriend of yours?” 

The only downside of her relationship was that no one other than Jack knew about it yet. The secrecy was, in part, practical. They hadn’t told Struass or any of the higher-ups about them yet, and Emily knew it would mean trouble for Aaron if they found out. She was in the middle of getting a new job organised, a role in Interpol’s DC office that Clyde had all but created for her, and when it was all done, when she’d signed contracts and handed in her notice at the FBI, they’d tell people then. Something she hoped would help soothe the blow that she was leaving the team for their friends. 

Practicalities aside, she knew she’d miss the days when their relationship was a secret. When it was protected from outside opinion and was just theirs. 

“Eventually,” she says, raising her eyebrow at him, “But not yet,” she says, and she has to stop herself from looking up at Aaron’s office again. She can feel him watching her through the blinds, his gaze drifting from the paperwork he was supposed to be concentrating on to her, as distracted by the countdown to their date as she was. The desire to talk to him, a feeling that made her feel nothing short of a teenage girl, wins out, and she clears her throat and gathers her paperwork, slipping it all into a file as she stands up, “I’ve got to get these to Hotch.” 

She knocks on his door and walks in, making sure to close the door behind her, giving them some level of privacy even though she knows the team can see them through the window. 

“Hey,” he says, looking up from his desk, his head tilted towards her so only she can see his smile, “Almost time to go.”

She sighs and sets her paperwork down on his desk, “It would be if time started moving faster.” 

His smile gets wider, and he tries to control it, clearing his throat as he casts a glance out of the window, grateful when he realises no one is looking, all too focused on their conversation about weekend plans. “Before you know it, we’ll be on our date, drinking that wine you love with dinner” 

She hums, “And I’d be teasing you about my new lingerie,” she smiles, her tongue pressed  against the back of her teeth when his jaw clenches and his grip tightens on his pen, “Oh look, I managed to do that already.”

He looks at her in a way he usually reserved for elsewhere, pure adoration written all over his face, the fact that he loved her obvious, even though neither of them had said the words yet. It had been a long time since she’d said ‘I love you’ to a partner, and probably even longer since she’d felt it this deeply, if she had ever felt it this deeply, so she’d built it up in her head, had made it this big giant thing that felt like it deserved a good moment, not just a passing comment she’d make one evening or morning as they parted ways. 

She knew it would be the last time she said it to someone for the first time, so she wanted it to be special. Something she’d look back on for years to come as their relationship bloomed and grew around them. 

He’s about to respond, a spark in eyes she wanted to see every day for the rest of her life, but there’s a knock on the door, and she takes a step back, puts more reasonable space between them again as Penelope walks in the room. 

“I’m sorry to interrupt,” she says, “We got a call about a case in Idaho. Three women have gone missing in the last week, and all of them have been found dead. The locals are worried that if they wait until next week, they’ll have another body on their hands, and they’ve asked if we can go as soon as possible,” she winces as she says it, and Emily curses under her breath, her shoulders sagging as her friend turns to look at her, “Sorry about your date, Peaches.”

“How do you know about my date?” She asks, rolling her eyes as she says it, the answer already obvious, “Derek is such a gossip,” she grumbles, but then she smiles, Aaron’s gaze burning into her side, “And it’s okay, I can reschedule. My boyfriend is very understanding.”

Penelope’s eyes sparkle, “Are we ever going to get to meet him?” 

“Garcia,” Aaron says, drawing their attention back to him, “If the case is as urgent as the locals say it is, I doubt we have time to discuss Prentiss’s love life.” 

Emily has to press her lips together to stop herself from laughing, and she clears her throat to cover it. 

“Right, sorry,” she says, raising her eyebrow at him before she heads out, “I’ll go break the bad news before anyone heads out.” 

“Thank you,” Aaron says, a flash of that smile passing over his face again, and she nods in response, her eyes flicking to Penelope before she heads out. 

“You’re welcome,” she winks at him as Penelope leaves his office before her, “Hotch.” 

___

An uneasy feeling settles in his gut the moment he sees the photos of the victims - all women in their early 40s. Brunette. Dark eyes. 

They all looked like Emily. 

He knows the others have noticed too, can sense how they all talk around it for two days while they work on victimology and pin up photos that look like her if you catch them out of the corner of your eye. It reminds him too much of walking through the ballpen and seeing her photo on the wall of honour, something not made any easier by knowing she wasn’t really dead, that the grave he laid flowers on every weekend was empty. 

He does his best to ignore it, to pretend that he doesn’t see the woman he loves in every brutal photo spread throughout the room, but it starts to wear on him quickly, makes him irritable in a way that has Emily raising an eyebrow at him whenever their eyes meet.

He’s about to suggest a coffee break when Penelope calls him, her name flashing up on the screen of his phone as he sighs and answers, wishing more than anything that she has something that will help them break the case. 

“Hotchner.”

“I think I’ve got something,” she says, and he puts her on speaker, nodding towards the phone as he places it on the table to encourage everyone else to listen. “I checked the financials of all the victims, and the only thing that connects them is that all three of them visited the same bar in the days leading up to their appearance. It’s called Ford’s Bar, I’m sending through the details.”

Derek crosses his arms over his chest, “Our guy could be scoping it out for victims, using it as a hunting ground.” 

Aaron nods and clears his throat, “Thanks, Garcia.” 

“I’ll call if I find anything else.” She says, and then she hangs up, the room briefly falling into silence as they digest the new information. 

“So we scope out the bar? Look for someone who is acting suspiciously?” Dave asks, and Aaron sits down, trying to think of a way to make it work, trying to think of anything other than the obvious. 

“And what? Hope someone who fits his victim pool just walks in?” Derek interjects, his gaze drifting over to Emily, who sits up a little straighter in her chair. Aaron watches as her shoulders tighten for a moment, watches as she presses her lips together before she blows out a slow breath. 

“There’s no point talking around it,” she says, “I can do it.” 

Aaron shakes his head, “Absolutely not.” He only realises he’s spoken, that he’s voiced his disapproval outloud when everyone looks at him. He clears his throat and shakes his head, doing his best to try to make his voice remain even, “We don’t know enough about this guy. I’m not putting someone in that position unnecessarily.”

“It isn’t unnecessarily,” Emily replies, her eyes meeting his, a softness in them that he knows the others won’t notice, “We need to get this guy, Hotch. Before he hurts someone else.” 

He can feel the others watching him, their curiosity piqued over his outright refusal of what was the most obvious option, so he relents, ignoring the feeling low in his gut that this was the wrong decision. 

“Okay,” he says, his jaw tight, “You’re not going alone,” he looks around the room, “Any volunteers?” 

“I’ll go,” JJ says, throwing Emily an encouraging smile across the room, “Derek can come too.” 

Derek furrows his brows, “Why me?” 

She turns to look at him with a raised eyebrow, “Because between Dave, Spence and Hotch, you’re the only one who looks like you’d go to a bar on a Sunday night.” 

“I’ll try not to be offended,” Derek quips, and Dave agrees, murmuring under his breath as he looks around the room. 

“So we have a plan?” Dave asks, staring at Aaron a second longer than necessary before he looks at Emily.”

Aaron nods, ignoring the growing dread in his gut. 

“We have a plan.” 

___

She brought with her a dress just in case. 

She always packed a dress in her go-bag, always made sure she was ready just in case this exact situation came up, knowing from experience that she would always be the first choice if they needed someone to lure in a suspect. 

It was something she’d done before, but she feels more uneasy with it than usual, something about the evening ahead crawling under her skin and making her heart thump against her rib cage. She tries to tell herself it’s because it’s her first time going undercover since she came from Paris, that it’s too familiar and too close, and that’s why she hesitates the moment she’s back in her hotel room looking at the dress in her bag.

She blows out a shaky breath and shakes her head at herself, “Get it together, Emily.” 

She gets ready quickly, barely casting a second glance at herself in the mirror before she leaves her hotel room, sending a text to JJ saying she’ll meet her in the lobby in 5 minutes as she walks the short distance to Aaron’s room.

She looks around, making sure no one else is in the hallway, and then knocks on the door. Aaron answers almost immediately, stepping back to let her into his room. 

“Hi,” she says, smiling as the door closes behind her, “I wanted to come see you before I left.” 

“Are you sure you don’t want me to come?” He asks, and she steps closer, wrapping her arms around him, smiling when he does the same. 

“I’m sure,” she says, stamping her lips against his, “We don’t want to spook the guy by there being too many of us,” she says, “Plus, it’s not like I haven’t done this before.” 

She regrets it as soon as she says it, her attempt at cheering them both up falling flat as his grip on her tightens. 

She hated this just as much as he did. Hated that it was expected that she’d do this, but she couldn’t say no. She wouldn’t be able to live with herself if something happened to another innocent woman, if she said no to something that could save someone's life. 

It was one night. They’d catch the guy like they always did, and then she could go home and go on a date with the man she loves. 

He sighs, and his eyes drift closed as he leans forward, his forehead leaning against hers, “Em…”

“Sorry,” she says, nudging her nose against his. “I’ll be fine,” she assures him, kissing him before she pulls back, “I’ll let you know when I’m back.” 

“Okay,” he says, holding her even closer, refusing to let her go as he squeezes her hips. “I…” 

He drifts off, and she knows what he wants to say, the three words neither of them had said yet on the tip of his tongue, but she understands his hesitation too. She doesn’t want to remember this as the reason they said it for the first time, either. 

“I know,” she says, kissing him again, “JJ is expecting me, I’ll see you soon, okay?” 

He nods, “Want to come here when you’re back?” 

She smiles at him, tilting her head to the side as she cups his cheek, her smile widening when he kisses her palm, “I thought we said no sharing rooms on cases.” 

“We could make an exception,” he replies, and she almost tells him she loves him there and then, forgetting all of her desires to make it something special. She leans forward and kisses his forehead, using her heels to her advantage, and then she pulls back. 

“We’ll go for breakfast tomorrow, okay?” She offers instead, “We’ll meet earlier than everyone else, and I might even hold your hand under the table.” 

He chuckles at that, and he seems more at ease than he has in hours. It relieves something in her chest, makes her relax a little too, and she wonders when her happiness became so intertwined with his.

“It’s a date.” 

___

He waits up until she texts him as promised, his phone already in his hands, the TV on a channel he’d barely been paying attention to. 

Back at the hotel. A couple of people to follow up on in the morning. See you at breakfast.

The relief he feels is palpable, stealing the breath from his lungs as he rests his head back against the headboard, his shoulders relaxing for the first time since it was suggested that Emily go to the bar. 

He knew that he would have been hesitant about the plan even if they weren’t together, but it added a new layer to it all, made it harder in a way that made him understand the rules that had kept their relationship a secret so far. 

He didn’t have to try very hard to imagine how it felt to lose a woman he loved, and he didn’t have to try to think about what it would be like to lose Emily either. The aftertaste of that feeling, even though she’s back at the hotel, lingers in his chest as he lies down to sleep, the burning of it settling in his throat as he finally drifts off. 

When his alarm goes off, it feels like no time has passed, as if it has been mere seconds since he closed his eyes. Despite the exhaustion making his limbs heavy, he gets out of bed and dresses quickly, spurred on by the thought of a stolen 30 minutes with the woman he loves over a buffet breakfast. 

He makes it to the hotel restaurant exactly on time, something he knew Emily would make fun of him for when she got there a few minutes late, and he finds them a table tucked away in a corner, hidden from view from the entrance that was visible from his seat. He orders them both coffee, and he waits. 

Five minutes pass. 

Then ten. 

Then twelve. 

He texts her, wondering if she’d overslept, but the message doesn’t deliver, staying green in a sea of blue on their message chain. His heart drops into his stomach, and the dread he’d felt all of the previous day comes back into full force. 

He should have checked on her. 

He can’t get the thought out of his head as he leaves the restaurant quickly, ignoring the waiter who brings over their coffee. He takes the stairs instead of waiting for the elevator,  taking them two at a time as the words echo around his head, along with his footsteps on the concrete stairs.

He should have checked on her. 

He should have checked on her. 

He makes it to her room, coming to a stop just a few paces away from it, the open door and the scuff marks on the frame enough to make his heart stop, cracks that she had healed reopening in her absence. 

He should have checked on her. 

He steps forward and sees her smashed phone on the floor, and he stops himself from going into the room. He reminds himself that it’s a crime scene, that he can’t go in until they get it cleared, and he grabs his phone from his pocket, pressing Dave’s name in his contact list. 

“It’s Emily,” he says the moment the other man answers, not realising he’s used her first name, as if the lines they’d drawn between personal and professional had disappeared with her, “She’s gone.” 

[sequinsmile-x]

Hi besties ❤️

Part 2 will be up Friday! Work is kicking my butt this week but I have a 4 day weekend ahead of me 🙌🏻🙌🏻

[sequinsmile-x]

Petition

Emily Prentiss and her relationship with prayer.

-x-

Hi besties,

This is a belated birthday fic for the lovely @eyesontheskyline <3 hope you had a day as amazing as you and that you enjoy this! Thanks for always accepting all the photos of my cat, the memes I sent you and for hating my gym nemeses as much as I do. You're a true friend!

As always, please let me know what you think!

-x-

Warnings: teen pregnancy, pregnancy, religious trauma

Words: 3k

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

March 1986

She starts the moment the test is in her hand. 

Please, please let it be negative. 

Emily had never been one for prayer. It was something that she did at church, hands clasped, and her eyes closed as she vaguely listened to the priest and replied as needed, but as she sits on the floor of her bathroom, reading the instructions of a pregnancy test she’d already done, she becomes a congregation of one. Desperately hoping and praying that she was wrong, that she wasn’t pregnant at 15 to a guy who had barely looked at her since she’d slept with him.

I’ll do anything. Just don’t let it be positive.

She puts the box down and checks the time, groaning as she realises only 3 minutes had passed since she’d sat down and that there are still another 27 to go. She hugs her legs to her chest and rests her forehead against her knees, doing everything she could to stay calm, to tell herself she was overthinking it, that there was no way that this was going to have happened to her after her first time. 

Please let it be negative. I can’t do this. 

As time ticks on, slow and thick around her, she starts wishing she could stay in this part forever, with panic and fear as more constant companions than she’d had in a long time, their arms wrapped around her as she sits entirely alone, waiting for 30 minutes to pass. 

It’s like both things are true at once. She’s pregnant, and she isn’t, both futures laid out in front of her, each path as unclear as the other. There was only one thing she was certain of - and that was no matter what, she wasn’t going to have a baby at the end of all of this. If she were pregnant, and if she stayed that way, her mom would make sure of that. 

If she made the choice she thought she was going to have to make, the one that had been lingering in the back of her mind since she realised she was late, she wondered if God, or whoever was listening, would forgive her. If she’d ever be redeemable for making the only choice that was bearable. 

She looks at her watch again and realises 30 minutes had passed, and all of a sudden she wishes the time hadn’t passed at all, that her future wasn’t laid out for her in the counter in tiny test tubes she’d throw away in the neighbour's trash the first chance she got. 

She blows out a breath and stands, her eyes closed as she blindly catches herself on the lid of the toilet when she almost trips. She opens her eyes and gasps, her hand over her mouth, catching a sob as she finds herself looking at the result she knew she’d get all along. 

For years, she’d wonder how her mom didn’t hear her crying through the wall that separated their bedrooms. 

___

June 2006

She didn’t pray for a long time after Rome, because if she wasn’t listened to when she was 15 and desperate, why would she be listened to at all?

Everything in Rome, and everything that came after, had damaged her relationship with her faith. She wasn’t sure she believed in anything at all anymore, wasn’t even sure that she wanted to, but as she finds herself standing in Ian Doyle’s estate, successfully planted there as his girlfriend, she finds herself praying anyway.

Please don’t let him catch me. Please keep me safe. 

It had become a daily mantra since they’d met, since she’d learnt that the best way of getting into his operation was to be okay with everything she saw, to be unmoved as he spoke about killing people like other people spoke about the weather. There was a strange thrill to it, something about being so close to the edge all the time that ignited something in her gut, stoking a fire she never wanted to let engulf her. 

She wasn’t afraid of dying, not really, but she was afraid of what would come first. Ian was not a good man. He was violent and vindictive, and she’d heard the staff talking about what he’d done to Declan’s mom when she tried to end her pregnancy.

If there was one thing Emily had learned before she pushed her into a box and became Lauren, it was that there were much, much worse things in life than death. 

Please don’t let me lose myself. 

If she were truly honest with herself, she could already feel it happening. Contact with her team was limited, so she didn’t blow her cover, and she found herself being less and less honest with them. Not about what she was discovering, but about how she felt. 

Sometimes, she’d forget to answer to her actual name when she was with them, so used to being Lauren that she wondered if she’d ever truly be Emily again. 

She shakes her head at herself as she hears Ian down the hall, knowing she has to snap out of it. She’d found the Claddagh ring by accident and panicked, a sudden return to reality that had almost brought her to her knees. She’d come close to contacting the others then, had almost asked to be pulled from the mission, but she’d calmed down, telling herself it would all be over soon anyway. Shortly after, Ian had started insisting that he wanted to take her somewhere special. She knew what was coming, and she knew what she had to do. 

Please let this all be over before I get any deeper in this. 

“Love,” he says, and she turns, sucking in a breath as bright blue eyes meet her dark ones, danger and everything that came with it following him like the ever-present scent of whiskey and cigars, “You ready?” 

She nods, and holds her hand out for him, smiling when he links their fingers together and squeezes. 

“Ready.” 

___

May 2009

She stays in the hospital long after Aaron sends Haley and Jack away, and long after the rest of the team leaves. 

She keeps vigil over him, a desire to keep him safe overwhelming her as she sits by his bedside watching him sleep. The hospital was quiet other than the beeping of the machines he was attached to, and the shuffling of footsteps outside his room whenever a nurse walked by. It was as peaceful as it could be, a strange contradiction to the day they’d had. 

She’d prayed for the first time in a long time when she found his apartment empty, other than his blood on the floor and a bullet hole in the wall. It was a reflex she didn’t know she had, something that made her wince as soon as she did it, like an old injury she’d pulled on without thinking about it. 

Please let him be okay. 

His disappearance and all that had followed had brought everything she’d been trying to ignore for months to the forefront. Her growing feelings for him that she’d buried deep in her gut suddenly blooming, the flowers of them pressing against her lungs until it was hard to breathe. She was in love with him, and if it wasn’t so absurdly stereotypical, she’d laugh. They’d gone from not trusting each other, to relying on each other, to being friends, and now this - two people who clearly felt something for the other, but unsure what to do about it. 

Now she wasn’t sure they’d ever get the chance. 

“Emily?”

She snaps out of whatever reverie she’d fallen into, her hands clasped in her lap as she silently prayed to whoever was listening, and she looks at him, hoping her smile was something close to comforting. 

“Hi,” she says, leaning in a little closer, worried if she was too loud she’d break the sanctuary of sorts they had here, “Do you need anything?” 

He shakes his head, “You stayed?” 

She nods, clasping her hands tighter in her lap to stop herself from reaching out for him, “I stayed,” she says, “Do you want to be alone? I can go-”

“No,” he says, shaking his head as he cuts over her, wincing as he accidentally pulls at his injuries when he moves, “Stay. Please,” he says, his voice rough in a way that makes her stomach roll, her skin tingling with things she can’t allow herself to feel, not until he is better and has his son back, and they are all safe again.

Or, she thinks, until they are all as safe as they ever were. 

“I’ll stay,” she promises, in part because she doesn’t want to leave him alone, but because she knows he won’t remember this. “Now get some rest.” 

She keeps watch over him all night, talking on and off to a higher power she didn’t know if she believed in, hoping that whatever pull she has can be used to make things better for him. 

___

April 2011

She hated her physical therapist. Recovery was hard and, no matter how many weeks had passed since she’d been brought to Paris, it never seemed to get any easier. 

She walks slowly out of the rehab centre and holds her hand against her abdomen, fingers splayed over pink, raised scar tissue covered by her shirt. A constant ache had settled there, one she thought she might live with forever, and it always hurt more after an appointment, and she winces as she walks down the street, desperate to get back to the apartment she was staying in so she could get some rest. 

She wasn’t Emily here. She wasn’t anyone. She was a ghost, a phantom haunting the streets of Paris, desperate to blend in, to not be seen, and sometimes she wondered if she might as well have actually died on that warehouse floor in Boston.

A part of her had. She knew even if she went back to DC tomorrow, if they caught Ian and brought her home, that she wouldn’t be the same, that she couldn’t be the same. The Emily Pretniss that her team had known, her family, wouldn’t exist anymore, if she ever had at all. She wondered if they’d forgiven her yet, if in their grief they had been able to look past everything she’d kept from them, everything she’d done before she knew them. 

Please let them forgive me. 

It had been her mantra for weeks, a prayer she made several times a day as she thought of everyone she left behind. 

She slips into her apartment and closes the door behind her, making sure the lock is in place before she walks over to the couch, immediately lying down and pulling a blanket over her. She turns onto her side, wincing as she does, and then frowns as a book hits the floor. It makes her jump, the loud sound forcing her to sit up straight, pain lancing through her as her hand finds her chest, her heart thumping against her ribcage. She blows out a shaky breath and shakes her head at herself as she reaches down to pick up the book. 

It was her old copy of Slaughterhouse Five, one of the few belongings of hers that she’d been able to keep. Aaron had brought it to her when he visited her in the hospital, still wearing his suit from her funeral. He’d made all sorts of promises she knew he intended to keep, no matter how unlikely it was that he’d be able to, and he’d kissed her forehead when he thought she was asleep. 

She sighs, holding the book to her chest as she lies back down, letting the connection to her old life anchor her as she gives in to the sleep she desperately needed. This time, she isn’t even sure if it counts, if it’s a prayer or a wish as she falls asleep, exhausted in every way possible. 

Please let something good come from this. 

___

July 2012

She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been so nervous. 

It was making her restless, and had her watching the clock like she hadn’t in years. She’d left the office with a smile, and she had thrown a wink Aaron’s way when she told him to have a good weekend as if she wasn’t about to go on her first date with him. 

They’d taken things slowly since she came home. He was patient with her, endlessly so, and whatever she’d felt for him for years had only been deepened by it, assured by his dedication to just the idea of being with her, that he loved her just as much as she loved him. 

Despite knowing that they both wanted this, that they wanted each other, she’s still nervous. Anxiety and excitement battling it out in her gut as she gets ready, her hand shaking as she applies her mascara and rolls her eyes at herself. 

“God,” she mutters under her breath, shaking her head as she looks at herself in the mirror, grateful that she’d somehow avoided smudging her make-up. “Get it together, Emily.” 

She finishes getting ready, knowing him well enough to know he’d be exactly on time, if not a little early, and she sits on her couch, her knee bouncing up and down as she watches the front door like a little kid watches the clock on Christmas Eve. She would have thought she’d be embarrassed by it, and maybe once she would have been, but she’d been through so much to get here, and she didn’t want to waste a moment of it. 

The doorbell rings at the exact time he said he’d pick her up, and it makes her smile, her heart thumping in her chest as she stands up and answers the door, her smile meeting his as he hands her a bunch of flowers. 

“Hi,” he says, leaning in to kiss her cheek. 

“Hi,” she replies, shy as she turns her head to kiss him, “Thank you for the flowers.” 

He shrugs, his cheek warm beneath her lips, “I thought I should get you some since it’s our first date.” 

“They’re perfect,” she assures him, leading him through to the kitchen to put them in some water. She can feel him watching her, and it feels like reverence, like the flowers are an offering at her altar, something he’d gladly give her again and again for as long as she’d let him. She clears her throat and looks at him, “You ready to go?” 

“Ready,” he nods and reaches out for her hand, hesitating for a moment before she slips her hand into his and squeezes, letting herself get used to the feeling of his hand in hers.  

She finds herself praying again, a silent thing in her head as she loops her arm through his and presses herself against his side, wanting to absorb everything he was willing to give her. 

Please let this be what I think it is. 

___

January 2014

She starts the moment the test is in her hand. 

Please let it be positive. 

She hadn’t prayed in a long time. It felt like asking for too much, as if she were somehow risking what she already had if she asked for more. Sometimes, she still couldn’t quite believe where she’d ended up. She had a husband who she loved more than she thought possible and who loved her just the same. She had a little boy who she loved as her own, whose smile could turn a bad day around in a second. She had a home. A place where she’d planted roots and built a life. A life she so desperately wanted to add to. 

She purposely turns her back to the counter she’d set the pregnancy test on, not wanting to stare at it the entire time the results were generating, sure she’d drive herself crazy looking for a line to develop. 

It was impossible not to compare this to the last time she’d taken a pregnancy test. How she’d desperately wanted a completely different result from what she was hoping for now. How alone she’d been. How scared. Each second that passed a separate eternity of its own as she waited to find out her fate. It was only 3 minutes now, not 30 like it was all those years ago, and while the time felt like it was lasting just as long, it couldn’t have been more different. She wasn’t alone. Aaron was patiently waiting in the bedroom, and she could hear Jack watching cartoons downstairs. She had a family, a soft place to land, no matter what. 

She checks the time on her phone and catches the timer just before it goes off. She blows out a slow breath and sets her phone down, closing her eyes as she turns towards the counter. 

Please let it be positive. 

She gives herself one more second in the before, and then she opens her eyes, capturing her gasp with her hand as she looks down at the two lines staring up at her from the test in front of her. 

“Oh my god,” she whispers to herself, looking closer, as if the result would change or disappear. Her vision blurs with tears, and she bursts out of the bathroom, test in hand, and she walks straight into her husband. 

“Sweetheart?” He asks, his hands on her hips as he steadies her, his shoulders sagging at the tears shining in her eyes, “Oh, Em-”

“It’s positive,” she says, cutting him off, smiling as his eyes go wide. 

“You’re pregnant?” He asks, looking at the test she holds out for him, and she nods, letting him take the test she knows she’ll keep until long after the result fades. 

“I’m pregnant,” she exclaims, and she hugs him, feels his tears fall into her hair just as quickly as she’s sure he can feel hers through his t-shirt against his chest, and she closes her eyes.

Thank you. 

[sequinsmile-x]

bestieee, I was just rereading Bait and I am now obsessing about how Aaron’s reaction would be if Emily was the bait and something happened to her, esp when the team doesn’t know about them yet. Have you written one like this? If not, would you consider writing it? love you so much <3

hi friend,

I have loved this idea since I got this anon, but this fic was giving me grief for some reason!! It took me a while to get it right in my head but I've got there!!

This will be a two parter, and I hope you enjoy <3

-x-

Snare

"It’s not like I haven’t done this before.” 

She regrets it as soon as she says it, her attempt at cheering them both up falling flat as his grip on her tightens. 

She hated this just as much as he did. Hated that it was expected that she’d do this, but she couldn’t say no. She wouldn’t be able to live with herself if something happened to another innocent woman, if she said no to something that could save someone's life. 

It was one night. They’d catch the guy like they always did, and then she could go home and go on a date with the man she loves. 

In which Emily goes undercover on a case, and it might just be the thing that reveals her relationship with Aaron to the team.

Part 1/2

-x-

Words: 3.2k

Warnings: canon typical violence/threat

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

Emily sighs as she looks at her watch, wondering how only five minutes could have passed since she last checked. Time was moving like syrup around her, thick and cloying and the only thing between her and her weekend. 

She does her best to contain a smile as she looks up at Aaron’s office for a moment before she shakes her head at herself and returns to her paperwork, determined to get as much done as she can before the day is out. 

She had a date to get ready for. 

Who would have thought that after everything, it was Aaron Hotchner who’d turn her into a romantic?

She’d always assumed that she’d ask him out. That she’d get bored with waiting, that she’d finally give in after years of almosts, years of long looks and flushed cheeks that they’d both done their best to ignore, but it was him. He’d asked her one night at his place, Jack asleep in his room just down the hall and a bottle of wine on the coffee table between them. Aaron was nervous as he clumsily asked her on a date, the complete opposite of the man she’d sat with in countless interrogation rooms with, and it made her smile so much her cheeks ached. Her answer a kiss she stamped against his lips - their first kiss - before he could really finish asking the question. 

It had been well over a month now, and it was everything she’d always secretly hoped it would be. He was kind and funny, he made her feel safe in a way she hadn’t in a long time, and he was incredible in bed. He knew when to push her and when to let her do things on her own, as if he had some kind of manual on how to be Emily Prentiss’s perfect boyfriend. 

If she believed in soul mates, if she believed that there was one perfect person out there for everyone, she’d know that he was hers. 

“Em, any plans this weekend?”

JJ’s question pulls her out of her reverie, and it takes a second for it to register. Emily clears her throat and tries to make herself look busy as she answers. 

“Got a date tonight,” she says, “And I’m hoping it will end up lasting all weekend.” 

Derek rolls closer on his chair, any pretence at working long gone, and he grins at her, “Are we ever going to meet this mystery boyfriend of yours?” 

The only downside of her relationship was that no one other than Jack knew about it yet. The secrecy was, in part, practical. They hadn’t told Struass or any of the higher-ups about them yet, and Emily knew it would mean trouble for Aaron if they found out. She was in the middle of getting a new job organised, a role in Interpol’s DC office that Clyde had all but created for her, and when it was all done, when she’d signed contracts and handed in her notice at the FBI, they’d tell people then. Something she hoped would help soothe the blow that she was leaving the team for their friends. 

Practicalities aside, she knew she’d miss the days when their relationship was a secret. When it was protected from outside opinion and was just theirs. 

“Eventually,” she says, raising her eyebrow at him, “But not yet,” she says, and she has to stop herself from looking up at Aaron’s office again. She can feel him watching her through the blinds, his gaze drifting from the paperwork he was supposed to be concentrating on to her, as distracted by the countdown to their date as she was. The desire to talk to him, a feeling that made her feel nothing short of a teenage girl, wins out, and she clears her throat and gathers her paperwork, slipping it all into a file as she stands up, “I’ve got to get these to Hotch.” 

She knocks on his door and walks in, making sure to close the door behind her, giving them some level of privacy even though she knows the team can see them through the window. 

“Hey,” he says, looking up from his desk, his head tilted towards her so only she can see his smile, “Almost time to go.”

She sighs and sets her paperwork down on his desk, “It would be if time started moving faster.” 

His smile gets wider, and he tries to control it, clearing his throat as he casts a glance out of the window, grateful when he realises no one is looking, all too focused on their conversation about weekend plans. “Before you know it, we’ll be on our date, drinking that wine you love with dinner” 

She hums, “And I’d be teasing you about my new lingerie,” she smiles, her tongue pressed  against the back of her teeth when his jaw clenches and his grip tightens on his pen, “Oh look, I managed to do that already.”

He looks at her in a way he usually reserved for elsewhere, pure adoration written all over his face, the fact that he loved her obvious, even though neither of them had said the words yet. It had been a long time since she’d said ‘I love you’ to a partner, and probably even longer since she’d felt it this deeply, if she had ever felt it this deeply, so she’d built it up in her head, had made it this big giant thing that felt like it deserved a good moment, not just a passing comment she’d make one evening or morning as they parted ways. 

She knew it would be the last time she said it to someone for the first time, so she wanted it to be special. Something she’d look back on for years to come as their relationship bloomed and grew around them. 

He’s about to respond, a spark in eyes she wanted to see every day for the rest of her life, but there’s a knock on the door, and she takes a step back, puts more reasonable space between them again as Penelope walks in the room. 

“I’m sorry to interrupt,” she says, “We got a call about a case in Idaho. Three women have gone missing in the last week, and all of them have been found dead. The locals are worried that if they wait until next week, they’ll have another body on their hands, and they’ve asked if we can go as soon as possible,” she winces as she says it, and Emily curses under her breath, her shoulders sagging as her friend turns to look at her, “Sorry about your date, Peaches.”

“How do you know about my date?” She asks, rolling her eyes as she says it, the answer already obvious, “Derek is such a gossip,” she grumbles, but then she smiles, Aaron’s gaze burning into her side, “And it’s okay, I can reschedule. My boyfriend is very understanding.”

Penelope’s eyes sparkle, “Are we ever going to get to meet him?” 

“Garcia,” Aaron says, drawing their attention back to him, “If the case is as urgent as the locals say it is, I doubt we have time to discuss Prentiss’s love life.” 

Emily has to press her lips together to stop herself from laughing, and she clears her throat to cover it. 

“Right, sorry,” she says, raising her eyebrow at him before she heads out, “I’ll go break the bad news before anyone heads out.” 

“Thank you,” Aaron says, a flash of that smile passing over his face again, and she nods in response, her eyes flicking to Penelope before she heads out. 

“You’re welcome,” she winks at him as Penelope leaves his office before her, “Hotch.” 

___

An uneasy feeling settles in his gut the moment he sees the photos of the victims - all women in their early 40s. Brunette. Dark eyes. 

They all looked like Emily. 

He knows the others have noticed too, can sense how they all talk around it for two days while they work on victimology and pin up photos that look like her if you catch them out of the corner of your eye. It reminds him too much of walking through the ballpen and seeing her photo on the wall of honour, something not made any easier by knowing she wasn’t really dead, that the grave he laid flowers on every weekend was empty. 

He does his best to ignore it, to pretend that he doesn’t see the woman he loves in every brutal photo spread throughout the room, but it starts to wear on him quickly, makes him irritable in a way that has Emily raising an eyebrow at him whenever their eyes meet.

He’s about to suggest a coffee break when Penelope calls him, her name flashing up on the screen of his phone as he sighs and answers, wishing more than anything that she has something that will help them break the case. 

“Hotchner.”

“I think I’ve got something,” she says, and he puts her on speaker, nodding towards the phone as he places it on the table to encourage everyone else to listen. “I checked the financials of all the victims, and the only thing that connects them is that all three of them visited the same bar in the days leading up to their appearance. It’s called Ford’s Bar, I’m sending through the details.”

Derek crosses his arms over his chest, “Our guy could be scoping it out for victims, using it as a hunting ground.” 

Aaron nods and clears his throat, “Thanks, Garcia.” 

“I’ll call if I find anything else.” She says, and then she hangs up, the room briefly falling into silence as they digest the new information. 

“So we scope out the bar? Look for someone who is acting suspiciously?” Dave asks, and Aaron sits down, trying to think of a way to make it work, trying to think of anything other than the obvious. 

“And what? Hope someone who fits his victim pool just walks in?” Derek interjects, his gaze drifting over to Emily, who sits up a little straighter in her chair. Aaron watches as her shoulders tighten for a moment, watches as she presses her lips together before she blows out a slow breath. 

“There’s no point talking around it,” she says, “I can do it.” 

Aaron shakes his head, “Absolutely not.” He only realises he’s spoken, that he’s voiced his disapproval outloud when everyone looks at him. He clears his throat and shakes his head, doing his best to try to make his voice remain even, “We don’t know enough about this guy. I’m not putting someone in that position unnecessarily.”

“It isn’t unnecessarily,” Emily replies, her eyes meeting his, a softness in them that he knows the others won’t notice, “We need to get this guy, Hotch. Before he hurts someone else.” 

He can feel the others watching him, their curiosity piqued over his outright refusal of what was the most obvious option, so he relents, ignoring the feeling low in his gut that this was the wrong decision. 

“Okay,” he says, his jaw tight, “You’re not going alone,” he looks around the room, “Any volunteers?” 

“I’ll go,” JJ says, throwing Emily an encouraging smile across the room, “Derek can come too.” 

Derek furrows his brows, “Why me?” 

She turns to look at him with a raised eyebrow, “Because between Dave, Spence and Hotch, you’re the only one who looks like you’d go to a bar on a Sunday night.” 

“I’ll try not to be offended,” Derek quips, and Dave agrees, murmuring under his breath as he looks around the room. 

“So we have a plan?” Dave asks, staring at Aaron a second longer than necessary before he looks at Emily.”

Aaron nods, ignoring the growing dread in his gut. 

“We have a plan.” 

___

She brought with her a dress just in case. 

She always packed a dress in her go-bag, always made sure she was ready just in case this exact situation came up, knowing from experience that she would always be the first choice if they needed someone to lure in a suspect. 

It was something she’d done before, but she feels more uneasy with it than usual, something about the evening ahead crawling under her skin and making her heart thump against her rib cage. She tries to tell herself it’s because it’s her first time going undercover since she came from Paris, that it’s too familiar and too close, and that’s why she hesitates the moment she’s back in her hotel room looking at the dress in her bag.

She blows out a shaky breath and shakes her head at herself, “Get it together, Emily.” 

She gets ready quickly, barely casting a second glance at herself in the mirror before she leaves her hotel room, sending a text to JJ saying she’ll meet her in the lobby in 5 minutes as she walks the short distance to Aaron’s room.

She looks around, making sure no one else is in the hallway, and then knocks on the door. Aaron answers almost immediately, stepping back to let her into his room. 

“Hi,” she says, smiling as the door closes behind her, “I wanted to come see you before I left.” 

“Are you sure you don’t want me to come?” He asks, and she steps closer, wrapping her arms around him, smiling when he does the same. 

“I’m sure,” she says, stamping her lips against his, “We don’t want to spook the guy by there being too many of us,” she says, “Plus, it’s not like I haven’t done this before.” 

She regrets it as soon as she says it, her attempt at cheering them both up falling flat as his grip on her tightens. 

She hated this just as much as he did. Hated that it was expected that she’d do this, but she couldn’t say no. She wouldn’t be able to live with herself if something happened to another innocent woman, if she said no to something that could save someone's life. 

It was one night. They’d catch the guy like they always did, and then she could go home and go on a date with the man she loves. 

He sighs, and his eyes drift closed as he leans forward, his forehead leaning against hers, “Em…”

“Sorry,” she says, nudging her nose against his. “I’ll be fine,” she assures him, kissing him before she pulls back, “I’ll let you know when I’m back.” 

“Okay,” he says, holding her even closer, refusing to let her go as he squeezes her hips. “I…” 

He drifts off, and she knows what he wants to say, the three words neither of them had said yet on the tip of his tongue, but she understands his hesitation too. She doesn’t want to remember this as the reason they said it for the first time, either. 

“I know,” she says, kissing him again, “JJ is expecting me, I’ll see you soon, okay?” 

He nods, “Want to come here when you’re back?” 

She smiles at him, tilting her head to the side as she cups his cheek, her smile widening when he kisses her palm, “I thought we said no sharing rooms on cases.” 

“We could make an exception,” he replies, and she almost tells him she loves him there and then, forgetting all of her desires to make it something special. She leans forward and kisses his forehead, using her heels to her advantage, and then she pulls back. 

“We’ll go for breakfast tomorrow, okay?” She offers instead, “We’ll meet earlier than everyone else, and I might even hold your hand under the table.” 

He chuckles at that, and he seems more at ease than he has in hours. It relieves something in her chest, makes her relax a little too, and she wonders when her happiness became so intertwined with his.

“It’s a date.” 

___

He waits up until she texts him as promised, his phone already in his hands, the TV on a channel he’d barely been paying attention to. 

Back at the hotel. A couple of people to follow up on in the morning. See you at breakfast.

The relief he feels is palpable, stealing the breath from his lungs as he rests his head back against the headboard, his shoulders relaxing for the first time since it was suggested that Emily go to the bar. 

He knew that he would have been hesitant about the plan even if they weren’t together, but it added a new layer to it all, made it harder in a way that made him understand the rules that had kept their relationship a secret so far. 

He didn’t have to try very hard to imagine how it felt to lose a woman he loved, and he didn’t have to try to think about what it would be like to lose Emily either. The aftertaste of that feeling, even though she’s back at the hotel, lingers in his chest as he lies down to sleep, the burning of it settling in his throat as he finally drifts off. 

When his alarm goes off, it feels like no time has passed, as if it has been mere seconds since he closed his eyes. Despite the exhaustion making his limbs heavy, he gets out of bed and dresses quickly, spurred on by the thought of a stolen 30 minutes with the woman he loves over a buffet breakfast. 

He makes it to the hotel restaurant exactly on time, something he knew Emily would make fun of him for when she got there a few minutes late, and he finds them a table tucked away in a corner, hidden from view from the entrance that was visible from his seat. He orders them both coffee, and he waits. 

Five minutes pass. 

Then ten. 

Then twelve. 

He texts her, wondering if she’d overslept, but the message doesn’t deliver, staying green in a sea of blue on their message chain. His heart drops into his stomach, and the dread he’d felt all of the previous day comes back into full force. 

He should have checked on her. 

He can’t get the thought out of his head as he leaves the restaurant quickly, ignoring the waiter who brings over their coffee. He takes the stairs instead of waiting for the elevator,  taking them two at a time as the words echo around his head, along with his footsteps on the concrete stairs.

He should have checked on her. 

He should have checked on her. 

He makes it to her room, coming to a stop just a few paces away from it, the open door and the scuff marks on the frame enough to make his heart stop, cracks that she had healed reopening in her absence. 

He should have checked on her. 

He steps forward and sees her smashed phone on the floor, and he stops himself from going into the room. He reminds himself that it’s a crime scene, that he can’t go in until they get it cleared, and he grabs his phone from his pocket, pressing Dave’s name in his contact list. 

“It’s Emily,” he says the moment the other man answers, not realising he’s used her first name, as if the lines they’d drawn between personal and professional had disappeared with her, “She’s gone.” 

[sequinsmile-x]

I usually write a mother's day fic, but I have not been feeling the best all weekend (horrible headache i cannot shift) so no new fic from me tonight.

Will get something up that I've been working on for a while tomorrow, and will post a Momily fic soon to make up for the lack of a Mother's Day fic <3

Tomorrow's fic is based on an ask I got wanting a secret relationship fic where Emily gets kidnapped, kind of the opposite of my fic Bait.

Snippet below the cut!

“Hey,” he says, looking up from his desk, his head tilted towards her so only she can see his smile, “Almost time to go.”

She sighs and sets her paperwork down on his desk, “It would be if time started moving faster.” 

His smile gets wider, and he tries to control it, clearing his throat as he casts a glance out of the window, grateful when he realises no one is looking, all too focused on their conversation about weekend plans. “Before you know it, we’ll be on our date, drinking that wine you love with dinner” 

She hums, “And I’d be teasing you about my new lingerie,” she smiles, her tongue pressed  against the back of her teeth when his jaw clenches and his grip tightens on his pen, “Oh look, I managed to do that already.”