i loved your jemily x reader fic, can I request something similar? maybe reader is a bau member and the case somehow leads her to her hometown or something and reader isnt out to her mom/parents and they have a bad relationship so it’s all angst but with a happy ending with jj and emily.
When a case brings the BAU to your hometown, you're forced to confront the family you left behind and the secrets you've been keeping. JJ and Emily are determined to show you that you're not alone or wrong.
I couldn't sleep after I read this request because I had the story so perfectly in my mind. It literally poured from me and I couldn't stop from 8 till- oh shit it's 1 am! This is as close to writing a paper in one night that I'll get post grad
TW: Angst, homophobia, strained family relationships, emotional hurt/comfort, coming out, happy ending 8.7k words
The moment Penelope's face appeared on the screen in the conference room, you felt your stomach drop. It wasn't her usual entrance, no cheerful greeting, no colorful commentary. Just a somber expression that meant the case was going to be bad.
"Good morning, my crime-fighting family," she began, her voice lacking its typical enthusiasm. "We have a series of abductions in Millbrook, Pennsylvania. Three women in the last two weeks, all between the ages of 25 and 35, all taken from their homes in the middle of the night."
The name hit you like a physical blow. You felt the blood drain from your face, your hands gripping the edge of the conference table hard enough that your knuckles turned white. You tried to keep your expression neutral, but you could feel Emily's dark eyes on you from across the table, that profiler's gaze that missed nothing.
"The local police are overwhelmed," Garcia continued, pulling up crime scene photos. "The first victim, Sarah Mitchell, was found deceased three days after her abduction. Cause of death was asphyxiation. The second victim, Rebecca Torres, was found yesterday in a similar condition. The third victim, Amanda Chen, was taken last night. If he's following the same pattern, we have less than 72 hours to find her alive."
Hotch leaned forward, studying the photos. "What's the connection between the victims?"
"All three women were single, lived alone, and worked in healthcare: two nurses and a physical therapist. They also all frequented the same gym and coffee shop in downtown Millbrook."
Your hometown. The place you'd fled the moment you turned eighteen, desperate to escape the suffocating expectations and the version of yourself you'd been forced to perform for seventeen years. You hadn't been back in almost a decade, hadn't spoken to your parents in nearly as long beyond obligatory holiday texts that you sent out of guilt rather than genuine desire to connect.
"Wheels up in thirty," Hotch announced, and everyone began gathering their files.
You stood on autopilot, your mind racing. Maybe you could fake sick. Maybe you could tell Hotch you needed to sit this one out. But even as the thoughts formed, you knew you wouldn't. A woman's life was at stake, and your personal discomfort didn't matter when someone needed saving.
"Hey." JJ's soft voice broke through your spiraling thoughts. She'd appeared at your elbow, her blue eyes filled with concern. "You okay? You look like you've seen a ghost."
You forced a smile that felt more like a grimace. "I'm fine. Just... didn't sleep well last night."
It was a terrible lie, and JJ knew it. You could see the doubt in her expression, the way her brow furrowed slightly. But before she could press further, Emily joined you both, her hand coming to rest on the small of your back in a gesture that was casual enough to seem friendly but intimate enough that you felt warmth spread through your chest despite your anxiety.
"Millbrook," Emily said quietly, her voice pitched low enough that only you and JJ could hear. "That's your hometown, isn't it?"
Of course she remembered. You'd mentioned it exactly once, months ago, during a late-night conversation in Emily's apartment when the three of you had been tangled together on her couch, wine-drunk and trading stories about your childhoods. You'd kept your story brief, glossing over the details, but Emily had that steel-trap memory that came with being a profiler and the daughter of an ambassador.
You nodded, not trusting your voice.
JJ's hand found yours, squeezing gently. "Do you want to talk about it?"
"Not here," you managed, glancing around the bullpen where other agents were bustling about. "Maybe on the plane."
But even as you said it, you knew you wouldn't talk about it on the plane either. How could you explain the knot of anxiety that had taken up residence in your chest? How could you tell them that going back to Millbrook meant potentially running into your parents, meant facing the life you'd run from, meant risking them discovering the truth about who you really were?
Your parents didn't know you were gay. They didn't know about JJ and Emily, didn't know that you'd found a love so profound and consuming that it had changed the entire trajectory of your life. They didn't know because you'd never told them, because the last real conversation you'd had with your mother had ended with her talking about how she hoped you'd "find a nice man and settle down soon" and you'd felt so suffocated by the expectation that you'd stopped calling altogether.
The flight to Pennsylvania was only about an hour, but it felt like an eternity. You sat between JJ and Emily in the back of the jet, pretending to review the case files while your mind raced with worst-case scenarios. What if you ran into your mother at the police station? What if she showed up at the hotel? What if she saw you with JJ and Emily and somehow intuited the nature of your relationship?
"Talk to us," Emily murmured, her hand finding your thigh under the table. "You're spiraling. I can practically hear your thoughts from here."
You glanced up to make sure the rest of the team was occupied, Hotch and Rossi were discussing the profile, Reid was absorbed in a book, and Morgan was napping. Then you finally let yourself meet Emily's concerned gaze.
"My parents don't know," you said quietly. "About me. About us. About any of it."
JJ's hand covered Emily's on your thigh, both of them offering silent support. "Do you think you'll see them?" JJ asked gently.
"I don't know. Maybe. Probably. Millbrook isn't that big." You laughed, but it came out bitter. "My mom volunteers at the hospital. If we need to interview staff there, there's a good chance she'll be around."
"Do you want us to run interference?" Emily offered immediately. "We can make sure you're not assigned to the hospital interviews."
You shook your head. "No. I can't let my personal issues interfere with the case. A woman's life is at stake. I just..." You trailed off, struggling to find the words. "I just need to prepare myself for the possibility of seeing them. And I need you both to understand that if we do run into my parents, I can't... I won't be able to acknowledge what we are to each other. Not because I'm ashamed," you added quickly, seeing the flash of hurt in JJ's eyes. "Never because of that. But because I'm not ready for that confrontation. Not like this."
"We understand," JJ said softly, though you could see the sadness in her expression. "We'll follow your lead."
Emily nodded in agreement, but her jaw was tight. You knew how much it cost her to agree to hide your relationship, even temporarily. Emily had spent so much of her life hiding parts of herself, her sexuality, her past, her feelings, and she'd been adamant that she was done with hiding when the three of you had finally acknowledged what you meant to each other six months ago.
But she was doing this for you, and that knowledge made your heart ache with love and guilt in equal measure.
The Millbrook Police Department was exactly as you remembered it; a squat brick building on Main Street, sandwiched between the library and the old movie theater that had been converted into a community center. You'd walked past this building countless times as a teenager, never imagining that you'd one day return as an FBI agent.
Chief Morrison was a gruff man in his late fifties who seemed relieved to hand the case over to the BAU. "We're a small department," he explained as he led the team to a conference room. "We've never dealt with anything like this. Serial abduction, possible serial killer... it's beyond our scope."
Hotch nodded, already taking command of the room. "We'll need access to all the case files, crime scene photos, and witness statements. Agent Jareau will set up a tip line and handle media relations. Morgan and Prentiss, I want you at the latest crime scene. Reid and Rossi, start working on the geographical profile. And—" He turned to you, and you braced yourself. "I want you to go to Millbrook General Hospital and interview the staff. See if anyone noticed anything unusual about the victims or if there's anyone who stands out as suspicious."
Of course. Of course you'd be sent to the hospital, the one place you were most likely to run into your mother.
"Yes, sir," you said, keeping your voice professional.
Emily caught your eye, a question in her gaze, but you gave a small shake of your head. You could do this. You had to do this.
The hospital was a ten-minute drive from the police station, and you spent the entire journey trying to calm your racing heart. You parked in the visitor's lot and sat in the SUV for a moment, staring up at the building where you'd been born, where you'd visited your grandmother before she died, where you'd volunteered as a candy striper one summer because your mother had insisted it would "look good on college applications."
Your phone buzzed with a text from JJ: "You've got this. We're here if you need us. ❤️"
Followed immediately by one from Emily: "Call if you need an extraction. I'll fake an emergency. 🖤"
Despite everything, you smiled. They knew you so well, knew exactly what you needed to hear. You typed back a quick "Thank you. I love you both" and then forced yourself to get out of the car.
The hospital lobby was busy with the usual mix of visitors, patients, and staff. You approached the information desk, flashing your credentials to the elderly volunteer manning the station.
"I'm Special Agent Y/L/N with the FBI," you said, keeping your voice low. "I need to speak with your HR director about the recent abductions."
The volunteer's eyes widened. "Oh, yes, of course. Such a terrible thing. Let me page Mrs. Henderson for you."
While you waited, you scanned the lobby nervously, half-expecting to see your mother appear at any moment. The hospital had that distinctive smell, antiseptic and floor wax, that brought back a flood of memories you'd rather have kept buried.
You turned to find a middle-aged woman in a navy pantsuit approaching you, her hand extended. "I'm Patricia Henderson, HR director. Chief Morrison called ahead and said you'd be coming. Please, follow me to my office."
The interview with Mrs. Henderson was productive. She provided you with personnel files for all three victims, along with a list of employees who would have had regular contact with them. You were making notes, your mind fully focused on the case, when there was a knock on the office door.
"Come in," Mrs. Henderson called.
The door opened, and your worst fear materialized.
Your mother stood in the doorway, holding a clipboard and wearing the pink volunteer vest she'd worn for as long as you could remember. Her hair was shorter than the last time you'd seen her, more gray than brown now, but her face was the same. The same sharp cheekbones, the same thin lips, the same critical eyes that had always seemed to find you wanting.
"Patricia, I have the schedule for next week's—" She stopped mid-sentence, her gaze landing on you. You watched as recognition dawned, followed by shock, followed by something you couldn't quite read. "Y/N?"
Your throat felt like it was closing. "Hi, Mom."
Mrs. Henderson looked between you, clearly sensing the tension. "You two know each other?"
"She's my daughter," your mother said, and there was something in her voice, surprise, yes, but also hurt and accusation. "Though I had no idea she was in town. Or that she was FBI now."
The last part was said with a particular emphasis that made you bristle. You'd told your parents about joining the FBI in a brief email years ago, but your mother had never acknowledged it, had never asked about your work or expressed any interest in your life.
"I'm here on a case," you said stiffly, standing up. "Mrs. Henderson, thank you for your time. If you could email me those files, I'd appreciate it."
"Of course," Mrs. Henderson said, looking uncomfortable.
You moved toward the door, intending to brush past your mother and escape, but she caught your arm.
"Y/N, wait. We should talk."
"I'm working, Mom. I don't have time."
"You never have time," she said, and there was the accusation you'd been expecting. "You haven't called in months. You didn't come home for Christmas or Thanksgiving. Your father and I have been worried sick."
Guilt and anger warred in your chest. "I've been busy. My job is demanding."
"Too demanding to call your own mother?" Her grip on your arm tightened. "What happened to you, Y/N? You used to be such a sweet girl, and now you're so cold, so distant. Ever since you moved to Virginia, it's like you became a different person."
Because I did, you wanted to scream. Because the person I was here wasn't real. Because I was suffocating under the weight of your expectations and your assumptions about who I should be.
But you couldn't say any of that, not here, not now. So instead, you gently extracted your arm from her grasp and said, "I really do have to go. There's a woman missing, and every minute counts."
"Will you at least come by the house before you leave town? Your father would love to see you."
The thought of sitting in your childhood home, pretending to be someone you weren't, making small talk while avoiding any topic of substance, made you want to crawl out of your skin. But you found yourself nodding anyway, because saying no felt impossible. "Maybe. If the case allows."
It was a non-answer, and you both knew it.
You fled the hospital, your hands shaking as you climbed back into the SUV. You sat there for a moment, trying to compose yourself, before your phone rang. Emily's name flashed on the screen.
"Hey," you answered, your voice shakier than you'd intended.
"How did it go?" Emily asked, and you could hear the concern in her voice.
"I don't know," you admitted. "Can you... can you and JJ meet me back at the police station? I have some information from the hospital, but I also just really need to see you both."
"We're on our way," Emily said immediately. "Hang tight, sweetheart."
The endearment, spoken so softly and with so much love, nearly broke you. You blinked back tears as you started the car and headed back to the station.
By the time you made it back to the police station, you'd managed to pull yourself together enough to present a professional facade. The team was gathered in the conference room, and you added your findings to the growing profile.
"All three victims were well-liked by their colleagues," you reported, consulting your notes. "No obvious enemies, no recent conflicts. However, they all participated in a hospital charity event three weeks ago. A 5K run to raise money for the pediatric ward. There were about two hundred participants, including hospital staff, patients' families, and community members."
"That could be where the unsub first saw them," Reid said, immediately moving to the board where he'd been mapping out the geographical profile. "If he was at the event, he would have had the opportunity to observe all three victims in a casual setting, possibly even interact with them."
"Garcia, I need you to get me a list of everyone who registered for that 5K," Hotch said, and you could hear Penelope's fingers already flying over her keyboard through the phone.
"On it, sir. I'll also cross-reference it with anyone who has a criminal record or history of violence."
You felt JJ's presence before you saw her, her hand briefly touching the small of your back as she moved past you to pin up some photos. It was the barest touch, over in a second, but it grounded you, reminded you that you weren't alone.
Emily was watching you from across the room, her expression unreadable to anyone who didn't know her as well as you did. But you could see the worry in the set of her shoulders, the way her jaw was tight.
The team worked late into the evening, building the profile and following leads. The unsub was likely a white male in his 30s or 40s, someone with medical knowledge or access to medical facilities, someone who felt rejected or overlooked by women in the healthcare field. He was organized, patient, and escalating. The time between abductions was decreasing, which meant he was becoming more confident and more dangerous.
By the time Hotch called it for the night and sent everyone to the hotel, you were exhausted: physically, emotionally, mentally. The team had booked rooms at the Millbrook Inn, the nicest hotel in town, which wasn't saying much. It was clean and functional, but decidedly dated.
You'd requested your own room, as had JJ and Emily, maintaining the professional boundaries that were necessary when working with the team. But as you stood in your room, staring at the generic landscape painting on the wall, you felt the loneliness creep in.
A soft knock on your door made you turn. You looked through the peephole to see JJ and Emily standing in the hallway, both of them changed into comfortable clothes: JJ in yoga pants and a soft sweater, Emily in PJ pants and a t-shirt.
You opened the door immediately, and they slipped inside.
"We thought you might want some company," JJ said softly, her hand coming up to cup your cheek. "But if you need space, we understand."
Instead of answering, you pulled her into a hug, burying your face in her shoulder. Emily's arms came around both of you, and for the first time since you'd heard the name Millbrook that morning, you felt like you could breathe.
"I'm sorry," you mumbled into JJ's shoulder. "I'm sorry I'm such a mess about this."
"You have nothing to apologize for," Emily said firmly, pulling back just enough to look at you. "Your feelings are valid. This situation is difficult."
You moved to the bed, and the three of you settled on it: you in the middle, JJ and Emily on either side. JJ's head rested on your shoulder while Emily held your hand, her thumb tracing patterns on your skin.
"Tell us about them," JJ said quietly. "Your parents. You've never really talked about them."
You were quiet for a long moment, trying to figure out where to start. "They're not bad people," you finally said. "They never abused me or anything like that. They provided for me, made sure I had everything I needed. But they had this very specific idea of who I should be, and I never fit that mold."
"What kind of idea?" Emily asked.
"The perfect daughter. Straight A's, perfect manners, the right friends, the right activities. And eventually, the right boyfriend, the right husband, the right life." You laughed bitterly. "My mother used to plan my wedding when I was in high school. She had the whole thing mapped out: the venue, the dress, the flowers. She just needed me to provide the groom."
JJ's hand found yours, lacing your fingers together. "Did you ever try to tell them?"
"Once. When I was sixteen." The memory still stung, even after all these years. "I tried to tell my mother that I thought I might be gay. I didn't even get the full sentence out before she shut me down. She said it was just a phase, that I was confused, that I'd been spending too much time with the 'wrong kind of people.' She made me start seeing a therapist at our church."
"Jesus," Emily muttered, her grip on your hand tightening.
"The therapist spent six months trying to convince me that my feelings were unnatural, that I needed to pray harder, that I needed to focus on finding a good Christian man." You felt the old anger rising in your chest. "So I learned to hide. I dated boys I didn't care about, I played the part they wanted me to play, and I counted down the days until I could leave."
"And when you left?" JJ prompted gently.
"I went to college across the country. I came out to my friends, I dated women, I finally let myself be who I really was. But I never told my parents. I couldn't face their disappointment, their rejection. So I just... drifted away. Stopped calling as much, stopped visiting. Made excuses. And eventually, we barely talked at all."
"Do you think they suspect?" Emily asked.
You shrugged. "Maybe. Probably. I'm thirty years old and I've never brought a boyfriend home, never talked about dating anyone. But as long as I don't say it out loud, they can pretend. They can tell themselves that I'm just focused on my career, that I haven't found the right man yet. The minute I actually tell them, it becomes real, and they'll have to deal with it."
"And you're afraid of how they'll react," JJ said softly.
"I'm afraid they'll reject me completely. I'm afraid my mother will cry and tell me I'm going to hell. I'm afraid my father will look at me with disgust. I'm afraid they'll tell me I'm not their daughter anymore." Your voice cracked on the last word, and you felt tears start to fall. "And the worst part is, I shouldn't care. I shouldn't need their approval. I'm an adult, I have my own life, I have you two, and you're more family to me than they've ever been. But some part of me still wants them to love me, still wants them to accept me, and I hate that I'm weak enough to want that."
"That's not weakness," Emily said fiercely, turning your face toward her. "That's human. Wanting your parents' love and acceptance is one of the most fundamental human needs. There's nothing wrong with wanting that."
"She's right," JJ added, wiping away your tears with her thumb. "And for what it's worth, I think you're incredibly brave. You left a situation that was hurting you, you built a life that makes you happy, and you've become an amazing agent and an amazing person. That takes strength."
You kissed her then, soft and sweet, pouring all your gratitude and love into it. When you pulled back, you turned to Emily and kissed her too, her lips familiar and comforting.
"I love you both so much," you whispered. "I don't know what I'd do without you."
"You'll never have to find out," Emily promised.
The three of you lay there together, tangled up in each other, and for a little while, you let yourself forget about the case, about your parents, about everything except the feeling of being loved and safe.
The next day brought a break in the case. Garcia had identified a suspect: Marcus Webb, a 38-year-old former paramedic who had been fired from Millbrook General Hospital two years ago for inappropriate behavior toward female staff members. He'd registered for the charity 5K and had been seen talking to all three victims at the event.
The team moved quickly, obtaining a warrant and surrounding Webb's house on the outskirts of town. You were with Morgan and Emily, positioned at the back of the house while Hotch and Rossi took the front.
"FBI! We have a warrant!" Hotch's voice boomed through the quiet morning.
The next few minutes were a blur of action. Webb tried to run out the back door and nearly collided with you. Morgan tackled him to the ground while Emily cleared the rest of the house.
"Basement!" Emily shouted. "I've got the victim!"
You ran down the basement stairs to find Emily kneeling beside a woman who was bound and gagged but alive. Amanda Chen. You'd found her in time.
The relief was overwhelming. You helped Emily untie Amanda while calling for an ambulance, and within minutes, the scene was swarming with police and EMTs.
Webb was arrested, and Amanda was rushed to the hospital. The case was closed. You should have felt triumphant, satisfied, relieved. Instead, you just felt exhausted.
"Good work, everyone," Hotch said as the team regrouped at the police station. "We'll wrap up the paperwork and head home tomorrow morning. Take the rest of the day to decompress."
The team dispersed, and you found yourself standing in the parking lot, staring at your phone. You had three missed calls from your mother and a text that read: "Your father and I expect you for dinner tonight. 6 PM. No excuses."
"Trouble?" Rossi appeared at your elbow, his expression knowing.
You showed him the text. "My mother. She wants me to come to dinner."
"I don't know. Part of me thinks I should just avoid it, leave town without seeing them again. But another part of me thinks maybe this is my chance to finally be honest with them."
Rossi was quiet for a moment, and when he spoke, his voice was gentle. "I can't tell you what to do, kiddo. But I will say this, secrets have a way of eating at us from the inside. Sometimes the fear of a thing is worse than the thing itself."
"And sometimes the thing itself is exactly as bad as you fear," you countered.
"True. But at least then you know. At least then you can stop living in that uncertainty." He squeezed your shoulder. "Whatever you decide, you've got a whole team that has your back. Don't forget that."
You found JJ and Emily at the hotel, both of them packing up their rooms. When you told them about the dinner invitation, Emily's expression darkened.
"You don't have to go," she said immediately. "You don't owe them anything."
"I know. But Rossi's right—I can't keep running from this forever. And maybe... maybe it's time to stop hiding." You took a deep breath. "I want to tell them. About me. About us."
JJ's eyes widened. "Are you sure? You don't have to do this now, especially not after the stress of the case."
"I'm sure. I'm tired of being afraid. I'm tired of pretending." You looked between them. "Will you come with me? I know it's a lot to ask, but I don't think I can do this alone."
"Of course we'll come," Emily said without hesitation, and JJ nodded in agreement.
"We're in this together," JJ added. "Always."
Your childhood home looked exactly the same—a modest two-story colonial with blue shutters and a meticulously maintained lawn. Your mother's garden was in full bloom, roses and hydrangeas creating splashes of color against the white siding.
You sat in the car for a moment, JJ and Emily on either side of you in the back seat. Morgan had agreed to drive you, understanding without being told that you needed the support.
"You ready?" Emily asked softly.
"No. But I'm going to do it anyway."
Morgan turned around from the driver's seat. "We'll be right here if you need us. Just call."
The three of you got out of the car and walked up the familiar path to the front door. Your hand shook as you rang the doorbell. It felt strange to ring the bell at a house you'd once lived in, but you didn't feel like you had the right to just walk in anymore.
Your mother opened the door, her expression brightening when she saw you before confusion crossed her face as she noticed JJ and Emily.
"Y/N, you came! I'm so glad. But I didn't realize you were bringing... friends?"
"Mom, this is Jennifer Jareau and Emily Prentiss. They're my colleagues at the BAU. JJ, Emily, this is my mother, Carol."
Your mother's smile was polite but strained as she shook their hands. "It's nice to meet you. Please, come in. Dinner is almost ready."
The house smelled like pot roast, the same meal your mother had made every Sunday for as long as you could remember. Your father was in the living room, and he stood when you entered, his face breaking into a genuine smile.
"Y/N! It's so good to see you, sweetheart." He pulled you into a hug, and you felt a pang of guilt at how happy he seemed. Your father had always been the softer of your two parents, more willing to let things slide, less rigid in his expectations.
You introduced JJ and Emily, and your father was warm and welcoming in a way that made your heart ache. If only it could stay this way. If only you could just have a nice dinner and leave without shattering their illusions.
But you couldn't. You were done hiding.
Dinner was awkward, filled with stilted conversation and long pauses. Your mother asked about your work in vague terms, clearly uncomfortable with the details of what you did. Your father tried to fill the silences with stories about the neighborhood, about people you barely remembered.
JJ and Emily were perfect. Polite, charming, answering questions without revealing too much. You could feel Emily's knee pressed against yours under the table, a constant reminder that you weren't alone.
Finally, as your mother was clearing the dinner plates, you took a deep breath.
"Mom, Dad, I need to talk to you about something."
Your mother paused, her hands full of dishes. "Can it wait until after dessert? I made your favorite, apple pie."
"No, it can't wait." Your voice was firmer than you'd intended, and you saw your mother's expression shift, her walls going up.
She set the dishes down and returned to her seat, folding her hands in her lap in that prim way she had. "Alright. What is it?"
This was it. The moment you'd been dreading for years. You reached under the table and found Emily's hand on one side, JJ's on the other. They squeezed simultaneously, giving you strength.
"I'm gay," you said, the words coming out in a rush. "I'm a lesbian, and I have been my whole life. I know you don't want to hear this, I know it's not what you wanted for me, but it's the truth. And I'm tired of hiding it."
The silence that followed was deafening. Your mother's face had gone pale, her lips pressed into a thin line. Your father looked shocked, his eyes wide.
"Y/N," your mother finally said, her voice tight. "I thought we discussed this. When you were sixteen, we talked about this confusion, and you agreed to work through it."
"I didn't work through it, Mom. I just learned to hide it better. I learned to pretend to be what you wanted me to be because I was afraid of losing you."
"This is ridiculous," your mother said, standing up abruptly. "You're not gay. You're just going through something, maybe a phase because of your stressful job—"
"It's not a phase!" You stood too, your voice rising. "I'm thirty years old. I've known who I am since I was a teenager. This isn't something I'm going through, this is who I am."
"Carol," your father said quietly, but your mother ignored him.
"I don't accept this," she said, her voice shaking. "I didn't raise you to be like this. I raised you to be a good Christian woman, to find a husband, to have a family—"
"I have a family," you interrupted. "JJ and Emily aren't just my colleagues. They're my partners. Both of them. We're together, and we love each other, and they're the best thing that's ever happened to me."
Your mother's gaze swung to JJ and Emily, who had both stood as well, flanking you. "You brought them here? To my home? To flaunt your... your lifestyle?"
"I brought them here because they're important to me," you said, fighting to keep your voice steady. "Because I wanted you to meet the people I love. Because I hoped that maybe, just maybe, you could be happy for me."
"Happy?" Your mother laughed, but it was a bitter sound. "How can I be happy about this? You're throwing your life away, Y/N. You're choosing sin over salvation, perversion over—"
"That's enough," your father said, his voice sharp enough that your mother actually stopped talking. He stood, moving around the table to stand in front of you. "Y/N, I... I don't fully understand this. I won't pretend that I do. But you're my daughter, and I love you."
Tears sprang to your eyes. "Dad—"
"Let me finish." He glanced at JJ and Emily. "If these women make you happy, if they treat you well and love you, then... then I'm glad you have them. I may need time to adjust to this, but I'm not going to lose my daughter over it."
"Robert!" your mother gasped. "You can't be serious. You're condoning this?"
"I'm choosing my daughter," he said firmly. "And I think you need to decide what's more important to you, Carol—your pride, or your child."
Your mother looked between you and your father, her expression a mixture of hurt and anger and something that might have been fear. "I need some air," she finally said, and she walked out of the room.
You heard the back door slam, and then it was just you, your father, JJ, and Emily standing in the dining room.
"I'm sorry," you said to your father, wiping at your tears. "I didn't want it to happen like this."
"Don't apologize," he said, pulling you into a hug. "You have nothing to apologize for. Your mother... she'll need time. She's very set in her ways, very influenced by the church. But she loves you, Y/N. Underneath all that rigidity, she loves you."
"I don't know if that's enough," you admitted.
Your father pulled back, his hands on your shoulders. "Give her time. That's all I ask. Don't give up on her yet."
You nodded, not trusting your voice.
Your father turned to JJ and Emily. "I'm sorry you had to witness that. And I'm sorry for my wife's words. They were unkind and unfair."
"We understand," JJ said graciously. "This is a difficult situation for everyone."
"Take care of her," your father said, and there was a plea in his voice. "My daughter. Take care of her."
"Always," Emily promised.
The walk back to Morgan's SUV felt like miles even though it was only a few dozen steps. You held yourself together through sheer force of will, aware of your father watching from the doorway. JJ's hand was steady at the small of your back, Emily's fingers intertwined with yours.
Morgan took one look at your face when you climbed into the backseat and didn't ask questions. He simply started the engine and pulled away from the curb.
"You okay?" he asked after a few minutes, his eyes finding yours in the rearview mirror.
"Not really," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.
"You did a brave thing tonight," Morgan said. "I know it doesn't feel like it right now, but you did."
You couldn't respond. The lump in your throat was too big, the tears too close to the surface. Emily's arm wrapped around your shoulders, pulling you against her side, while JJ took your hand and held it in both of hers.
The hotel room was blessedly quiet when you finally made it back. The moment the door clicked shut behind you, the dam broke. A sob tore from your chest, then another, and suddenly you were crying so hard you couldn't breathe.
"I've got you," Emily murmured, guiding you to the bed. "We've got you."
JJ kicked off her shoes and climbed onto the bed, pulling you down with her. Emily followed, and then you were surrounded by them, held between their bodies as you fell apart. JJ's fingers stroked through your hair while Emily's hand rubbed slow circles on your back. Your hands gripped at JJ's shirt like she might disappear.
"She looked at me like I was a stranger," you gasped between sobs. "Like I was something disgusting."
"You're not," JJ said fiercely, pressing a kiss to your temple. "You're beautiful and brave and so, so loved."
"Your dad was trying," Emily added softly. "That's something."
"But it's not enough," you said, the words breaking on another sob. "Why isn't it enough? Why do I still need her approval so badly?"
"Because she's your mother," JJ said simply. "And that's okay. It's okay to want that."
You cried until you had nothing left, until your body was exhausted and your eyes were swollen. Through it all, they held you, whispering reassurances and pressing gentle kisses to your hair, your cheeks, your hands.
"I love you," you finally whispered into the darkness. "Both of you. So much."
"We love you too," Emily said, her voice thick with emotion. "No matter what happens with your parents, you have us. Always."
JJ shifted, tilting your face up to meet her eyes. "Your father's acceptance is a start. Maybe your mother will come around. Maybe she won't. But either way, you're not alone in this."
You nodded, letting yourself sink into their warmth, into the safety of their love. The pain of your mother's rejection still ached in your chest, sharp and raw. But wrapped in JJ and Emily's arms, you could finally breathe again.
Two years later, you sat at your kitchen table with a stack of cream-colored envelopes in front of you. Wedding invitations. Your wedding invitations.
JJ and Emily stood beside you on either side, helping you address each one. The guest list was a mix of BAU family, friends, and a carefully curated selection of relatives. Your father's name had gone on an invitation weeks ago. Your mother's had not.
"Last one," Emily said softly, sliding the final envelope toward you.
You picked up the pen, hesitating. Then you wrote your parents' address in careful script. One invitation. One household.
"You sure?" JJ asked gently.
"I'm sure," you said. "The door's open. It's up to her whether she walks through it."
The weeks that followed were a blur of wedding planning and work. You tried not to think about the invitation you'd sent, tried not to check your email obsessively for RSVPs.
Then, one evening, your phone rang. Your father's number.
"Hey, Dad," you answered, your heart in your throat.
"I got your invitation," he said, and you could hear the smile in his voice. "I wanted to call and let you know I'll be there. And... I'm RSVPing for two."
Your breath caught. "Two?"
"Your mother and I will both be attending," he said quietly. "She's... she's been doing a lot of thinking. A lot of praying. She's not perfect, Y/N, and she may never fully understand. But she wants to be there. She wants to try."
Tears streamed down your face as JJ and Emily moved closer, sensing the importance of the call.
"You don't have to say anything," he interrupted gently. "Just know that we love you. Both of us. And we'll be there to watch you marry the people who make you happy."
When you hung up, you collapsed into Emily and JJ's arms, sobbing with relief and joy and the weight of two years of hoping finally lifting from your shoulders.
