#emily angst

[emberfrostlovesloki]

Leave Me Whole, and Let Me Be Untouched by the Sun [Emily x Reader]

Photo credits: Left (@fear0phobia) Center (@@noseysilverfox) Right (@mysterygoo)

Prompt: An unsub is strangling people in New Orleans, and he keeps escalating. Once he gets Emily as a victim, the team, and the reader, will never be the same again, but they have no idea what will happen to their teammate and friend and how it will hurt them. 

Pairing: Emily x BAU-Reader

Category: Angst/Whump 

Word Count: 8.8K

Content Warnings: Major character death, many forms of suffocation, mention of OD’s and a shooting, depression, and despair, brief mention of food and alcohol. If I missed any, please let me know. 

A/N: Hi all! I hope you are all doing very well! Here is the second whump fic after October is over (uh-oh)! I know the month is over but from me the whump will continue a while longer as I have four other whump fics planned. My writing this took some time but I was happy when I was writing rather than stressed, so I think that’s a good thing. That being said, thank you to everyone who has kept up with me, or to any new readers or followers! Please be kind to yourselves this week and do something you love, you are so special. If you enjoy this fic, likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated! Love Levi - ❤️

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y/n = your name 

The case started out as a normal one. The team packed into the briefing room with Hotch giving the details and Penelope running the tech. Then on the jet ride to New Orleans, the BAU tossed ideas back and forth like a tennis ball at the Grand Slam. The killer had a surprisingly high kill count. Derek and Spencer had been shocked that they hadn’t been called in sooner. The MO had one tie-through for all of the victims. Suffocation, or loss of air until expiration.

There had been five drowning in the Mississippi, and the police had attributed it to drunkenness after a late night on Bourbon Street. New Orleans had a lot of drowning each year. Then there there had been three victims that had OD’d and asphyxiated on their own vomit. It wasn’t until more traditional methods of strangulation were used that the police started putting some of these ideas together. Those methods included wire around the neck, use of the hands, suffocation with a pillow, and the most dramatic was when a man had been hung from the roof of a building with his arms tied behind his back. The victim was blindfolded and had a note attached to his chest reading: The Night Breather Strikes Again! To say the scene had caused panic and uproar in the city was an understatement. 

y/n was looking over her file and said, “So he’s escalating. I mean that last victim looked like someone from an Eli Roth movie. This unsub wants attention and the media is giving it to him. I just don’t know how the paranoia of the city is going to help him.” Emily smiled. Even though y/n was pretty new to the team, she had picked up so much, not to mention that she had fallen madly in love with the slightly younger agent. Em cleared her throat and said, “It probably doesn’t, but he has to have the attention and validation to feel anything anymore about his kills. But how do you escalate past that?”

y/n looked up and caught Prentiss’s eye, there was a warm flicker of desire there and y/n blushed slightly, looking back at her case file until she looked normal again. Hotch hadn’t really approved of their relationship, but he hadn’t stopped it either. He’d only issued an ultimatum, “No PDA of any sort on cases. What you do with the rest of your time is up to you, I guess.” When he added that last epitaph, y/n, and Emily had to hold back peals of laughter, it was something they joked about often now. Despite their relationship status, they still were always locked in on cases. It hadn’t been an issue for either of them yet, and they planned on keeping it that way. After all, they were both adults and no matter how head over heels they were, the job came first. 

New Orleans was abuzz with activity when they landed and headed to the police station. Mardi Gras was a week away and businesses were prepping for the hoard of tourists and outsiders that the festivities would bring. Rossi looked at the lead investigator on the case and asked, “What are you doing to prep for the Mardi Gras crowd?” The younger male huffed and said, “Well, we’ve left fliers at all the bars and restaurants, and we’ve told the owners to call us immediately if they see something off, but after Katrina, this, summer and Spring Break are our busy season, and I doubt anyone is going to want to scare away business on those nights. I’ve also assigned teams of officers apart from those just on the street for the parades to be on the lookout, but I don’t know if it will do any good.”

Dave nodded and said, “We’ll have one of our agents create a geographic profile, it might give you a better idea of where to concentrate your officers instead of just using manpower. Officer Stevenson nodded and looked like he hadn’t understood anything that Rossi had just said. Dave turned to Spencer and shouted, “Reid, can we get a geographic profile in a few hours?” Spence nodded and moved toward an officer to get the files he needed to make the profile. 

While this was all happening, Aaron, Morgan, y/n, and Emily were en route to two of the scenes. Hotch and Derek were taking the first and would be dropped off. The second scene was only a few blocks in the other direction, so they all figured they’d ride together and if anything interesting came up at either site they’d phone each other. The two men arrived at their destination and hopped out, and then Em and y/n were driven to the next scene. A lot seemed to be going on at the site, but y/n realized that some construction was happening near the yellow tape. There was a backhoe and a concrete mixer standing still and y/n turned to the officer and asked, “Did you stop this construction once the body was found?” The officer who had driven them nodded and replied, “Yes, ma’am. It was actually the lead on this project that found the body and called us. 

Em looked at y/n with interest and said, “Can you give us the name and number of the man? We’d like to speak to him.” The officer nodded and replied, “Sure, I just need to look it up in the case notes. It’ll only take a minute.” Emily stopped the man from returning the cruiser and asked, “What is it they’re doing here construction-wise anyway? No offense, but this doesn’t look like a spot that needs to be repaired much.” By that statement, Emily meant the small plot of land they were standing on looked like a small tornado had passed through only a few nights ago. The officer gave a chuckle and replied, “None taken. If you can believe it or not there’s a hidden bunker behind the storm drain. It’s a decent depth down. Seven feet or so. It’s the remnants from the Cold War, but of course, it was never needed and after Katrina, well you can imagine what it looked like inside after that. y/n, who had been listening in asked, “So what are you doing to it?” y/n was a bit of a history nerd, and a small part of her would love to go down and see what the inside looked like now. 

The officer looked between the two women, surprised by this diversion, but replied, “Well, a lot of the homeless used it for shelter for a good while, but last month two high school kids OD’d down there on meth, so the city saw it fit to fill in the entrance with concrete. That way no one else could get hurt down there. I’ve never been down myself, but I’ve heard some wild stories like allegedly the lights still work. It can’t be real, but it’s fun to talk about.” 

Em raised an eyebrow as the man got excited. He noticed her expression and excused himself to get back to the cruiser and find them the information they had asked for. Once the man was gone, the agents moved to the real scene but didn’t find much that was helpful. It was a very isolated and lowlight area which might help with a profile, but other than that there was no important information to gain. y/n sighed; she had hoped for more. Despite this, she stayed cheerful and said, “Once we have that info let’s walk over to Hotch and Morgan. Maybe they could use some help and we can tell Hotch the new information.”

Em nodded and said, “Plus we can get a sense of where the car must have come from to drag the body here. I wish we knew if they were killed on the scene or dropped somewhere else.” y/n furrowed her brow and replied, “Let me call Garcia and get the lividy from this victim of this scene, that will give us a better idea.” Prentiss smiled and replied, “And this is why I love you, you always know who to call.” y/n smiled back and replied, “You’re too nice to me, you know that right?” 

Back at Hotch’s scene, y/n told him about the man who had found the fifth body. He nodded remembering when the officers had told him about it at the precinct. Apparently, he had nothing to add, but y/n asked, “Mind if I meet with him again? I just think he could be one of those people who want to be part of the investigation. This killer needs validation and what’s more validating than reporting a crime you committed?” Aaron nodded and said, “Go for it. Have Spencer in the room with you. I’d like two people in there in case either of you misses something.” y/n agreed and moved back to the police station to set up the interview while Emily was chatting with Derek about this scene. 

A few hours later, y/n was sitting next to Spencer and across from Tim Baldwin in an interrogation room of the police building. There was something very odd about the man as if he was putting out waves of cool emotion. It made y/n shiver for a second before she composed herself. This wasn’t an interrogation, after all, just getting information. However, Reid had suggested the room as an intimidation tactic and y/n had agreed. 

“Mr. Baldwin, could you explain the scene you came upon when you found the victim? Please be detailed and tell not only what you saw, but how you got to work that morning.” Tim looked up from the metal table and started rhythmically tapping the side of his chair He said in a slow, deep voice, “I told the police already, but if you ask., I arrived at 6:20 AM at the construction site. The work day starts at 7:00 and I was getting ready for the other boys to pull up. I had some coffee in my truck. My headlights were on and I noticed a strange pile of blankets that hadn’t been there when we’d finished up yesterday.” y/n nodded along taking some notes. “I stepped out. I thought it might be a homeless person. We’d cordoned off the area and I was gonna try and get them to move. When I moved the blanket, I wasn’t ready for what I saw.” 

The man seemed to slow his cadence which was very monosyllabic and monotone for someone with such an interesting voice. Spencer asked, “Can you describe what you saw and what you did next?” The man nodded and replied, picking at a hangnail on his thumb, “Well there was a feller’ and his face was white and blue. It wasn’t a pretty sight. I moved back real fast. Kinda gave me a shock.” From the way the man said it, it didn’t seem like he was shocked at all. Baldwin continued, “Then I called up the cops, and texted the boys to wait for an hour to come in. I figured you didn’t all need seven other brutes kicking up dust on someone so important. I heard of those other kill’ins, figured this was one of ‘em.” 

y/n nodded before asking, “How well do you know this city, Mr. Baldwin?” Tim seemed slightly surprised by this question but finally answered, “As well as any native-born I ‘spose. It’s a big city with lots of places, but I can give directions as well as anyone.” 

y/n knew she’d never ask this man for directions. There was something inherently off about him. Reid then asked a few questions, and after they let him go. Once he was out of the room, y/n looked at Spencer not even sure what to say. Spence let out a sigh and said, “Well, he’s a character at least.” y/n nodded and said, “I always thought the ‘characters’ would be the easiest to read and they’re not.” Reid nodded and said, “I don’t think it’s him. He was just so clinical about the whole thing.” y/n bit the inside of her lip and said, “Let’s see if Garcia can pull up some medical records on him. I’m wondering if he’s on the spectrum. Not that means anything, but it might explain some of the behavior.” Spencer agreed and said, “I think that’s a good thing. Let’s gather some thoughts for Hotch and Rossi, they’re going to want to know what we found out.” 

Later that evening, late, the team was back and working at the precinct. y/n had slipped off to get another coffee when Emily snuck in behind her. y/n yawned widely and Em said, “Can I help you with that?” y/n whipped around with her cup which sloshed a bit of hot coffee on her. “Shit, fuck” y/n whispered as she set down her cup. Emily’s eyebrows furrowed and she stepped forward grabbing some napkins and patting her girlfriend's hands saying, “I’m sorry, y/n. I didn’t know you were holding something.” As Em kept patting her hands and looking into her eyes. y/n leaned in a pecked the brunette woman’s cheek before saying, “It’s okay, Em. I think I’ll survive.” Prentiss gave one of her beaming smiles leaned against the counter and let out a breath. There was a soft moment of silence between them as y/n raised her cup to her lips and took a hesitant sip of caffeine. 

After a moment, Emily asked, “Have you ever been to New Orleans before?” y/n turned her head to look at Em and replied, “Only on a layover when I was kid, but I’ve always had this stupid dream about it.” Prentiss turned and asked, “What stupid dream?” y/n chuckled and replied, “Well when I was young I thought it would be fun to have a lot of money. Enough money to fly out here on a private jet in the middle of the night and go to Cafe Dumont and get a coffee and beignets at 2:00 AM by the river. Just be in a city like this whenever I wanted. In  my mind, I was always wearing a blue ballgown and ludicrously high heels, which are really impractical for this city.” Emily took y/n’s hand and gave it a squeeze. It was always nice to hear her inner thoughts and dreams that she rarely shared. Em said, “Hey, maybe one day we can do that. I’m not sure about the private jet, but the rest of it. We could make that happen.” y/n smiled and said, “You’re so romantic. I love you.” Em booped y/n’s nose and replied, “I know. Now, we’d best get back to work.” 

The next two days were relatively quiet. Interviewing friends and family. Building out the profile. The team had decided that the man killed his victims in one place and dropped the bodies in another. The wait for something to happen was making the team's skin itch. No new developments could mean a few things like the unsub had gone back into hiding, the unsub was planning, or the killing spree was over. The first and last options were the best, but the most unlikely. With the unsubs escalation, it could be moments before they struck again. That theory was proven correct as the next morning again at 5:00 AM a dock worker pulled a flatbed into a deep freezing unit where the young man was shocked and horrified to find three bodies, frozen, mouths agape as if gasping for air. 

Derek was pacing as usual outside the crime scene as the victims were identified. These, unlike the first slew of the dead, were older or elderly folks. Morgan turned to the ground and said, “The escalation means the unsub kills more than one person. Not just three random people in three random places, but three people that he brings together. Maybe those folks even knew each other.” Hotch nodded and replied, “Sounds about right, but let’s not jump to whether they knew each other or not. Only a solid ID will tell us that.” y/n was biting her nail, a bad habit of hers when she chimed in, “But these victims are older. So the unsub can kill more people, but they can’t all be young or strong. So that tells us something about his physicality at least.” The rest of the group nodded along and continued talking as they waited. Surprisingly, much of the job was infuriatingly waiting, waiting, and more waiting. 

The scene and the cops ramped up and kept ramping up until the first night of Mardi Gras. Being able to have any control was very hard. The team was working on Bourbon Street, as were most of the Police force. Things were crazy and the amount of ambulances for people getting alcohol poisoning and ODing on drinks and drugs was astronomical. y/n was in the fray with Spencer and she shouted over a very loud jazz band saying, “This is madness. Why would anyone choose to come here for this.” Reid wasn’t handling the drunken crowd any better than y/n and replied, “Beat’s me. I don’t know how we’re supposed to be doing anything useful right now. We don’t need an unsub when we’ve got this going on.” 

On the other side of the square, Emily was with JJ and noticed something fishy by the corner of the Catholic church. Em’s continued gaze to the far corner of the square caught JJ’s eye and she asked, “What do you see over there, Em?” Prentiss fixed her earpiece and replied, “I think something might be happening over there. Someone’s down and I can’t figure out if the person standing over them is a friend or a stranger.” The liaison nodded and asked, “Should I inform the team?” Em shook her head no and stated, “Nah. They wouldn’t get here fast enough anyway to help. Let me just go over there and see what’s going on.” JJ didn’t like that idea, however, she didn’t object as Emily quickly moved away from her. JJ’s eyes never left Prentiss’s form, but it started to get harder to see her as the crowds swarmed around her. 

There were a few loud pops and a bang from the center of the square and JJ’s head whipped in that direction. It took a few moments to realize that some fool had just set off firecrackers, but the police were now running toward the situation to hand out a ticket most likely, and others were fleeing, afraid that there might be a gun somewhere. By the time JJ had figured this out, she let out an annoyed breath and moved back to look for Em, but she was nowhere to be seen. Concerned, the blond liaison started slowly moving through the crowd toward where she’d last seen Emily. When she got to the spot, a pool of dread opened in her when she saw Prentiss’s badge, earpiece, and cell phone, all smashed like they had been stomped on hard. “Shit,” muttered JJ before getting the team on comms and saying urgently, “Y’all, we have a problem. I lost Emily and now I found her badge, phone, and earpiece on the ground.” There was an oppressive moment of silence before Hotch crackled on the line with his full authority, “JJ, what’s your location?” JJ responded and then Aaron continued, “We all meet at JJ’s location stat.” With that, the line went dead. 

y/n felt her world reel at the information that Emily might be gone. Taken by the unsub. She took five deep breaths and started pushing through the most crowded part of the plaza. She had to remind herself that despite her fear, it could be something else. Also, Emily still had her gun, and Emily with a gun was a bad day for any unsub. y/n thought, ‘Emily is smart and capable. She wouldn’t intentionally get taken. If she was, I know she’s putting up a hell of a fight’ It took y/n far longer to get to JJ’s location than she wanted, but she was the first there. She was already pulling on gloves as she saw JJ. y/n just nodded at the liaison before kneeling down to look at Emily’s things. She didn’t touch them because there might be evidence on the items. y/n looked up at JJ and said, “Let’s try and start to set a perimeter. We need this scene as clean as possible. It will make finding Emily easier.” The two women just started that task when Morgan and Hotch sprinted to them. As the team gathered, there was nothing in y/n that thought she wouldn’t get to see and hug Em again, She was sure, more sure than she’d ever been that they’d find her. With that hope, the start of the long four days began. It was also the start of the rest of y/n’s life; she just didn’t know it yet. 

When Emily woke it was dark and musty smelling, like rot and petrichor. She tried to roll onto her back but found it impossible to do. This limitation woke her more. She must have been out, as she had no conception of what time it was or where she was. Prentiss opened her eyes and everything was a bit blurry. There were some old yellow-brown lights above her that looked like they’d come from a science lab in the 60s. She also realized that the scent of earth moss and earthy wetness was correct as she was lying on a large patch of what must have been a greenish-brown moss that was slippery to the touch. She was handcuffed to a lab table that was bolted to the floor. She tried at the cuffs a few times, but for now, she couldn’t see a way out of them. Part of the room seemed to be slightly cleaned, but most of it seemed at least a decade old. One notable thing about the room was how cold and clammy the air was. Emily suspected that she might be underground in a hideout somewhere. Perhaps the unsub was keeping her here until he felt like killing again. Killing a federal agent would up the escalation factor for sure.  

Finally, after Em’s eyes had adjusted to the darkness beyond the faint halogen square of light around the center of the space, Em noticed the most interesting, and horrifying part of the room. All along the floor and even on crudely built shelves on the wall were the bodies of at least fifty dead bodies in various states of decay. Prentiss leaned to the side and vomited. She spat to clean her mouth and pulled a cuffed hand to get the spittle off her chapped lips. There was no mistaking it, this must be where the unsub strangled his victims. 

Why these bodies hadn’t been displayed Emily couldn’t know. She hoped she’d get to ask the unsub about it. Perhaps he was a perfectionist and these people hadn’t died “right?” Emily knew that talking was her best weapon right now. She didn’t have her gun, she was confined, she didn’t know what time it was or how long she’d been there. The last thing she remembered from the packed square was leaning down next to somebody who had been shot, and then feeling a cloth over her mouth that smelled funny. Then it was lights out. 

As all of this was coming to Emily there was a loud rumbling noise above and to the side of her like she was sleeping under a very high bridge. Em tried to scream for help, hoping whoever was above her might hear her. However, her cry was more cough than sound. Prentiss found her mouth and throat very dry from the cold and whatever had been used to knock her out. Clearing her throat again, Em shouted, “Help, please, HELP ME. Can you hear me?” Even if Emily’s plea for aid could be heard above the rumble of the trailer holding the concrete, the man driving the vehicle wouldn’t have been inclined to help her. 

In the light of some worklamps, and against the orders of the police, Mr. Baldwin readjusted his hard hat as he turned on the flow from the concrete mixer. The flow of the building material was slow, like lava. This would be his piece de resistance. Now all he had to do was keep those pesky FBI agents away for at least a week. He had things timed to a T, so every three hours he very carefully placed wrapped packages in the slowly pooling grey sludge. He’d already rigged the top of the old bomb shelter, he was just making sure that if he was found out before the concrete was mostly dried, that nothing could be done. Tim had taken down the police barrier and he assumed with the whole force working on Mardi Gras patrol, there would be less attention paid to places decently far from the city center and far off the main road. 

Once the Chief of police had asked him to fill in the old bomb shelter the idea had come to him. He was so obsessed with showing off and looking at his collection of bodies that he’d even moved his old kills into the shelter. He’d put up caution and his work zone sign tape and no one questioned him as he moved in the early morning. But like all great masterpieces, they could be easily ruined by a careless teenager getting high, or a homeless person finding his creation. So he was taking precautions. He was putting a top coat on his work to keep it the same forever. Sure he’d be unable to go back inside the see the bodies, but it’d only be so long before he got asked to do something like this again. Katria had opened many doors for contractors and he was one of the best independent workers in the city. His rates couldn’t be beat, which meant he was invited everywhere. 

Fourty-two hours later, y/n hadn’t slept a wink and was pacing. Her eyes were red and looked slightly crazed. Morgan was looking at her from across the room and she snapped “What Derek? For the last time, I’m not going to take a nap. Now can you look somewhere else?” Derek dropped his arms and y/n’s shoulders fell as she put her head in her hands. Derek moved over to her and gave her a small embrace, patting her lower back as y/n composed herself. y/n sniffled and she rasped, “I’m sorry Derek. I don’t know what to do anymore. What to think.” The team had started the first hour strong looking for Emily. The police had cleared the square, but that had taken over an hour. The people that seemed suspicious had all turned out as dud leads.

Not only was there that, but three more bodies had shown up around the town leaving the police and the BAU struggling for manpower and resources to handle everything going on. Rossi had suggested that y/n and Morgan stay behind and keep looking for Em while the rest of the team went to handle the new scenes. Rossi thought he was doing y/n a kindness by letting her look for Emily, and y/n was glad, but at the same time, it was driving her crazy that she couldn’t do more. A hair had been found on Emily’s wallet that wasn’t hers, but the testing was taking what felt like forever. There were no fingerprints on Prentiss's items except her own. There were no texts or calls in Em’s logs from Verison’s report either. 

Chief Kranic walked into the room where y/n and Morgan were holed up. He was holding his notepad and walkie. Once he knocked on the door and stepped inside, y/n pulled away from Derek and stood for more of attention. Morgan looked over to the portly man who’d seen one or two muffaletas in his day asking, “What is it, Chief?” Kranic looked worried and said, “Now we have an off-duty officer missing. The men think it might be your unsub ‘fella and they’re getting anxious.” y/n nodded and asked, “Where was the last scene?” Mogan’s head snapped to y/n and he said, “You’re not thinking of going out on the field right now, are you?” y/n let out a tiny huff. They didn’t need to be arguing in front of the officer. She replied neutrally, “We can talk about it once we have more information. Chief?” The large man took a few minutes to relay the information and both agents took notes. Once Kranic was out of the room y/n said, “Derek, please. I can’t keep staying here. I’ll go crazy with worry over Emily. Please let me do this.” 

Morgan almost said, “You know that’s what JJ said to Em before she got taken, right?” But he stopped himself just in time. He tried to think of himself in y/n’s shoes and he understood. Finally, he gave a sharp nod and replied, “Go with a team of officers, and y/n, don’t do anything stupid out there. I’m going to call or text you every hour, alright.” y/n nodded. There was a hint of thanks in y/n’s eyes and as she brushed past him to grab her gun from the table, she gave his shoulder a small pat before moving out the door. 

Emily had fallen asleep and when she woke up again it was much darker this time. The lights were still on, but with how gloomy the space was now, she realized that she must have woken during the day or there had been some opening to the outside somewhere, but all was darkness now. The air also felt more stifled and musty. Her nose had become slightly adjusted to the scent of rot, though it was not a pleasant smell. In the darkness, she could just see a few parts of the bodies in the room with her. Pointy noses and chins and feet barely lit up. Skulls looking back at her. Emily closed her eyes and shuddered. She could break. She could let this situation break her, but she knew the team was looking for her. That y/n would be sick with worry for her. Emily couldn’t leave her love like that. She had to get back to y/n so she wouldn’t be so worried. It was for y/n that Em held strong. 

A little while later, Em woke from her trance-like state when a crackly voice came from the ceiling asking, “Are you still alive in there you little pest? You’ve got lots of air and I think I need to speed this up.” Emily coughed surprised that any kind of intercom would be in whatever place she was in. There was a small laugh as the man speaking to her said, “I hear you coughing in there. Wanna chat? It will be the last one you’ll have.” Emily grit her teeth and replied, “Don’t count you’re chicken’s before they’re hatched.” There was another laugh and then the hardly audible reply, “Humans are always so confident. They are so sure that everything will turn out for them, well I know, you’re not making it out of this one Agent Prentiss.” 

This scenario of speaking with the unsub was not how she expected it to happen. Speaking face to face could give lots of clues, but a faceless badly modulated voice from a speaker from the ceiling was much less easy. Emily settled for just getting a handle on her situation. The man had spoken about her having a lot of air, and she worried about what that meant. 

Putting on a strong voice Emily replied, “You certainly like playing god, so tell me, am I on an ark? My team will find me eventually - where exactly am I? You’re so confident that they can’t save me, you can tell me.” There was a prolonged pause, and Emily was afraid she might have pressed too hard. Thankfully there was a reply. The man seemed as confident as ever, “You Agent Prentiss are in an ark, an ark of concrete that is slowly drying. No way in or out. You will soon become like those other pretty people on the walls. I hope you’re comfortable because you’ll be here for a long time. And speaking of time, I think I’m going to speed up the process a little.” There was a swishing sound like a small fan or vacuum which, to her dismay, Emily realized was sucking air out of the mid-sized room. Prentiss felt the panic rise up in her again and she started hyperventilating. Tim assumed that Emily was doing what she was doing and said one last thing: “You’d better stop doing that, Agent, you’ll kill yourself faster. Now if I were you, I’d get comfortable with your gods.” 

The next day after more bodies were found but no clues toward Emiy’s location, the team was haggard. Hotch was leaning against a desk rubbing his eyes. He was just as tired and worried about Emily as the rest of the team. He was close to an officer when their radio went off. The message was: “This is Unit 72. We have something strange on Lockwood.” The officer at the desk clicked his radio and said, “This is Fernandez, please report, over.” “Well, Mr. Baldwin and some of his equipment are out on lot 3. He seems to be sitting in his truck. Looks like he’s finished the job and I just went over there last week to tell him to hold off on construction.” Hotch furrowed his brow. Lockwood sounded oddly familiar and so did the name of Baldwin. He had a feeling in his gut and he turned to y/n asking, “y/n didn’t you talk to a Baldwin a few days ago?” y/n looked up from the file she was reading and nodded her head saying, “Yeah, Tim Baldwin. He was a contractor. He seemed very odd, but nothing came up.” 

Hotch stood up straight and said, “I think we have something. Get the rest of the team, we’re going to Lockwood and wherever the hell lot 3 is.” The BAU rushed to where Tim was sitting in the cab of his pickup truck. Aaron, a few officers, and Morgan took point. Chief Kranic pulled out a mic and leaned out the door of his cruiser saying, “Mr. Baldwin, put your hands on the wheel of your car and don’t move. We have seven guns on you right now. Nod your head if you agree.” y/n, Spencer and Rossi watched as Baldwin nodded his head. Kranic continued loudly, “Good, now slowly place your hands on the wheel.” The unsub did as he was told and as soon as his hands were safely on the wheel the team rushed in. An officer opened the door and Hotch pulled the working man from his car and onto the ground where Rossi cuffed and read him his Miranda Rights. The second it was over Aaron said, “Where is Agent Prentiss!” The unsub laughed and pointed his chin toward the newly poured concrete saying, “Down there mister.” 

y/n was now by the group's side and her eyes widened. Hotch still didn’t fully understand and barked, “What does that mean?” y/n stepped in front of Aaron and replied, “There’s an old bunker down there. Emily might still be alive. He’s just locked her in.” A small glint of hope crossed over Aaron’s eyes until there was a shout from Spencer over on the side of the lot. The BAU left Tim in the hands of the police to put him in a car as they all rushed to Reid’s side. There was a vent and cool air was coming out of it. y/n became more panicked as she saw this and turned to Spence asking, “How do we stop it? How do we get the vent to cycle air back into Emily.”

Reid bit the inside of his lip and said “I don’t know if this has a return value it might be a ventilator only. y/n  started pacing and said, “So what do we do? Em’s down there.” Aaron looked at y/n and his stern gaze calmed her slightly as he said, “We’ll get a tech out here and see what can be done. If not getting air in, then stop the flow out. We’ll also get some construction workers and a civil engineer to see what we do about the concrete or digging her out from the top. Rossi nodded and said, “I’ll call Garcia, she’ll get people out here faster than legal.” 

Aaron nodded and moved toward Spencer who was still standing by the vent. Hotch looked at the young genius and asked, “Any clue how much air she might have down there?” Reid shook his head and said, “I can’t say unless I have the specifics of the room, how long Emily has been down there and how long this vent has been on. My guess is that she has a few hours left, but that’s just a very very unsubstantiated guess.” Hotch didn’t like those odds and he moved over the the police car and opened the door to see Baldwin. Without hesitation, Aaron grabbed Baldwin by the collar and said, with his face an inch from the unsubs, “How big is that room? How long has Agent Prentiss been in there for?” The unsub seemed unphased and replied, Oh I don’t have exact stats on the room, but you’re girls been in there for about three days now. She was still conscious last I talked to her which is surprising given she has no water. Maybe she’s been drinking her piss.” 

The statement from the man-made Aaron was so mad that he dropped him and slammed his hand so hard into the side of the car that he was sure he hurt something. Hotch was seething with rage at Emily being spoken about so callously even if there might be truth in the statement. After a few breaths, Hotch looked back at the man and said, “You’ve talked to her, how? And if you don’t give me a straight answer in less than one sentence I’ll make sure you get the death penalty. I’ll bring up everything you’ve ever said and done that looks sideways, so how? Did. You. Talk. To. My. Agent?” 

Tim chuckled again at Aaron’s anger. He didn’t say anything for an instant, not sure if he should reveal his secrets, but then again, having the other agents talk to their friend, and hear her die would be priceless to watch, so he honestly replied, “There’s a HAM radio built into the building via the speaker. I rigged one to the table you’re agent’s cuffed to always be open. I did it in case I ever got trapped down there myself. Just a precaution, but it was fun talking to the soon-to-be dead. Like speaking to a ghost.” Hotch couldn’t even be mad as he shoved Baldwin back in the car and moved over toward the unsub’struck. He asked the first officer combing through the vehicle, “Have you seen a HAM radio set?” The woman nodded her head no and Aaron called JJ and y/n to help him search. After using a police cruiser's radio, y/n shifted through all the frequencies until she found one with no sound. She played an alarm sound and Hotch was able to find the radio in the boot of the unsub’s car under the spare tire well. Thankfully the frequency hadn’t been changed and Aaron said, “Emily, it’s Aaron, we’re right outside. Can you hear me? Emily, can you hear me?” 

There was a pause that felt like an eternity before there was some coughing from the other end of the line and a small, crackly voice that was Emily’s saying, “Hotch? Is it really you?” Aaron let out the biggest sigh of relief he had in his life and he signaled to the team that he had Emily on the line. Everyone, especially y/n sprinted over. Aaron smiled and bowed his head, replying, “Yeah, it’s me. The whole team’s here. We’re gonna get you out of there.” There are excavators and bulldozers along with as many civil engineers as Gacia could find on their way. There was another very long pause before in a defeated-sounding voice, Em said, “You can’t Hotch.” Aaron looked at y/n who was clenching her fist so hard she was drawing blood. He handed the mic over to her and y/n asked, “Em, what do you mean we can’t? There’s a plan and everything. It might be close, but we think it can be done. Spencer has all the calculations and stuff now.” 

There was a soft sound of defeated laughter before Emily said, “y/n, I’m so glad to hear you’re voice. I never thought I was going to get the chance again. Oh God it makes me glad that I could hear you once more.” y/n was holding back tears and she repeated Hotch’s question, “Darling, why are you talking like this, We’re getting you out of there.” Prentiss was honest this time as she said, “The unsub, he set mines, lots of them. There’re some in the concrete and some in the ground above. If you try and dig me out, if you even get an excavator on top of this place the vibrations will make the whole thing blow. Not only would I be mincemeat but anyone nearby could die or be injured too.” There was a break as the whole team absorbed the news. It was devastating. Unbelievable. As they were all trying to reckon with this knowledge, Emily continued, “y/n, I don’t want to die in a thousand pieces, and I don’t want anyone else hurt. The air is already thin in here. There isn’t going to be time for you to save me.” Spencer took the mic from y/n’s limp hands and said, “Em, it’s Spence. I’m going to lead you through some breathing techniques that will save you air. Can you just follow my breath?” 

“Oh Spencer, you always were so, so, so very smart. I’m happy I got to be on the team with you. But I don’t want to do any special breathing things I want to talk to you each if I can, and then be with y/n. Please, just let me go.” Hearing this, Morgan had had enough and he moved back to Baldwin to have him tell him where all the bombs were and what kind of bombs they were. Deep down Derek knew that there wouldn’t be time to de-arm as many explosive devices as Emily implied, but he refused to admit it to himself. There had to be something he could do. But Baldwin had nothing to say. He was enjoying watching the BAU fall apart. The cherry on top of an already wonderful day for him. 

Finally, the construction team, a bomb squad, the civil engineers, and anyone else Garcia could think of arrived, and as Rossi and Aaron spoke with them and described the situation y/n JJ and Spencer all heard as Emily’s breathing got more and more labored. She left some final words for the other members of the team, knowing they would fight for her till the end. After this, Em’s voice changed. It was the one she used when y/n and she was alone in bed. Not in the office of the bullpen. She asked, with difficulty, “y/n tell me what it looks like out there.” JJ and Spence exchanged glances and took a few respectful steps back. This wasn’t about them anymore. 

y/n looked around and tried to see something, anything pretty around her. She stepped forward and sat on the edge of the tall grass just next to where the curing concrete was. She took a breath and said, “It’s a beautiful day. The… the sun is out and there are tiny white flowers in the tall grass. The wind…” y/n was choking up tears and sobs but managed to say, “The wind is stirring the grass and I’m right here with you, Em. Always will be.” y/n could hear crying from Emily too which only made her sobs worse. They stayed that way for a few minutes and Em said, “That’s my girl. Don’t be sorry about anything ever, y/n. I’m not. You’re the best thing to happen to me.” y/n’s body was wracked with sobs as she nodded her head into the ground and tried to vocalize, “I love you.” Her vocal cords weren’t having it and she was so overcome with grief but unable to move as she heard Emily’s breathing labor more and more until it was extinguished in a gurgling gasp and slow release of a life-ending. 

The whole team looked over to y/n as she stood and left the HAM radio where it had been on the ground. They knew it was over now. They wondered what y/n would do, but seemed too afraid to move. After a second Derek thought y/n might collapse but instead she opened her mouth and screamed the loudest she’d ever screamed. y/n screamed out her head and her heart and her spirit and any other part of her that hurt so bad that she wanted to die herself. After she had screamed herself mute, y/n closed her eyes and felt light like a feather. The team watched as y/n swayed forward and backward, Hotch, Rossi, and Morgan all moved forward with Morgan grabbing her before she fell to the ground. Rossi had pulled out his phone to call 9-1-1 and Hotch took off his jacket so he could cover y/n with it and keep her warm as she seemed to go into shock. Aaron’s heart was breaking, everyone’s was, but he would keep it together, for now, he vowed to not lose another agent. Not today. 

It was two days later that y/n woke. She’d gone into shock the the hospital was worried about her waking up fully distressed or panicked. Having the option of time taken away would help her not have to think about all the current events. y/n was still pretty heavily sedated as she came too in her hospital bed. Rossi and Morgan were sitting at her bedside as the doctor recommended she not be alone when she woke. y/n lulled her head to the side and asked in a tired voice, “Where am I? What day is it?” Rossi sat forward and said, “You’re in the hospital, y/n. You’ve been here for two days.” y/n squinted her eyes and asked, “Why? Did something bad happen to me?” Rossi looked over at Morgan who sat up and replied, “Yeah, something bad kind of happened to all of us, but you took it really hard. That’s why you’re in the hospital.” Even more confused, y/n asked, “What happened?” Rossi gave y/n’s arm a pat and replied, “We’ll tell you later. For now, why don’t you get some rest.” y/n weekly nodded and before her head was even back on the pillow, she was asleep again. 

It took a full two weeks before y/n could be safely dismissed and the doctors and psychologists didn’t fear that y/n would do something to possibly harm herself. Early on, when she had been told the news again, and the grief was fresh and new like a new cut, y/n had asked Aaron, who was sitting at her bedside, “Have they gotten Em’s body yet?” Hotch looked up from the book he was reading and set it aside before saying, “No. We called Emily’s mother and she flew down from Istanbul where she’s currently working. I described everything that Emily said to her and she heard the whole explosive situation. Mrs. Prentiss decided that it would be most respectful to honor Emily’s last wish and let her stay where she is. The bomb squad did figure out that if only one of the bombs were to go off it would likely blow up the whole structure and everything inside.” Aaron looked at y/n carefully to see how she had taken the news. 

It was clearly a blow to not be able to see the one you loved again, ever. But in some small way, he hoped there would be some comfort in knowing that Emily would stay as she was the last time they’d seen each other. The last Aaron had seen the two of them together they’d been sitting close in the hotel lobby. Legs touching they whispering and laughing between themselves. The memory hurt and made Hotch glad they had had each other. y/n didn’t end up responding much, just said, “Oh,” and closed her eyes again. 

A month later there was a funeral honoring Emily’s long service to the BAU and to her country. She was put to rest and it felt like the earth had been split in two with such a great loss to all who knew her. The service was formal and as the Priest gave the eulogy, y/n almost wanted to believe in God for Emily’s sake and for her own. After the metaphorical casket was buried, there was a small remembrance gathering at Rossi’s. 

y/n was standing on the far side of the room when a voice called her name. Pulling out of her daze, y/n saw Mrs. Prentiss and she stood straighter saying, “Ma’am, I’m so sorry for your loss.” Mrs. Prentiss nodded and said, “I should say that I’m sorry for your loss as well. I hear Emily was very fond of you.” Tears pricked at y/n’s eyes and she wiped them away. y/n supposed that was the closest Mrs. Prentiss would come to saying, ‘So, you were my daughter’s girlfriend.’ y/n spoke with honesty and replied, “I miss her so much that it’s hard to breathe sometimes.”

Elizabeth Prentiss nodded in understanding and said, “I was never very close with my daughter though she was brilliant, but I wish I had known her better when she was with you, I bet she just shone brighter than anything.” y/n smiled and said, “Yes, she did. Always.” Elizabeth nodded and said, “I’ve gone through all of Emily’s things and sent out the appropriate things to the right people. A box should be coming for you tomorrow. However, in the kitchen, I found this old bottle of wine. I’m not much of a drinker myself and besides, it should be enjoyed like she’d have wanted to have it, with you young folks. So I thought I’d give it to you.” y/n took the bottle and nodded. Clearly, Mrs. Prentiss was not huge on emotions, but at least there was this. 

y/n found herself flying and driving to New Orleans much more often now. Any chance she could get as long as she could spend two nights there? She’d always go to Emily’s ��grave and bring flowers.” The first time she saw that graffiti had been painted over the now-dried concrete she got so mad she called Derek and he let her let out every cuss word she knew until there was nothing more to complain about. y/n had washed it off an hour later. However, as the months elapsed, she started to see the chore of washing off any vandalism as a small way of keeping Emily alive. Like she was cleaning Em’s front entryway. It didn’t make any sense, but it kept y/n going. It kept her sane. 

On what would have been their three-year anniversary together, y/n considered flying down and drinking the bottle of wine from Prentiss’s apartment at her grave, but Mrs. Prentiss had been right. That’s not what Emily would have wanted. Instead, she invited the team over and everyone brought something that reminded them of Em, and they shared the wine and told stories from the past and remembered. They kept her alive in their hearts. As Garcia started what appeared to be a very funny story and y/n sipped from her glass, she thought, ‘You’ll be alive with me for as long as I live Emily, I promise.’ 

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[audiofanficpod]

AFP 3.16: DTL: Emily Angst

Back again, @eggshellheart, @dinalit, and @darkesttimelinestuff tackle the emotionally fraught death of Emily and all the emotional trauma therein. Dive in and mind the trigger warnings along the way.

Hic Jacet by @aloysiavirgata LISTEN🔊

Alabaster Stones by @aloysiavirgata LISTEN🔊

Drown by DarlaBlack LISTEN🔊

the pull of the tide by @ms-starlight71

Untitled Tumblr Fic by @broadcastnews1987

Sweet Nothings For The Numb by amalnahurriyeh

Sandbox by @admiralty-xfd LISTEN🔊

Just East of the Pacific by @slippinmickeys LISTEN🔊

Under A Juniper Tree by @aloysiavirgata LISTEN🔊

It Never Rains in Southern California by @mldrgrl

[chloesimaginationthings]

Why the FNAF puppet loves the music box,,

[sturnsreckless]

elle greenaway and spencer reid:

[bluepigeon300]

After the fall....

🚨DO NOT REPOST🚨

[allykatsart]

The Fall of Joy

▶️Next

An idea that I pray does not happen. I stg Emily better be safe and happy these next two episodes-

Hypothetical Fallen Angel Emily! Because this angst would not leave my brain. It hurts to leave heaven, but she won't be alone. If Emily was cast from heaven, I think the hotel would welcome her with open arms...

Commission me

[jazjelspen]

my angel baby

(alastor w/ angel daughter reader)

[caution!!: EPISODE 8 & 6 SPOILERS. NOT PROOFREAD]

(notes: alastor joins charlie and vaggie in heaven to convince them about the hazbin hotel. angel reader physically resembles a fawn. )

(right now this is considered a oneshot, unless there is a very high demand for a part 2 I'll happily make another one for funzies!)

(PART 2 IS OUT!!!)

(also apologies if alastor's last name isnt actually altruist LMAo I kinda just wrote it assuming so 😭 )

You made it to heaven, lucky you.

Heaven was surely a treat, you lived your days with the upmost happiness, the light of heaven shining on your skin with kisses as if praising you for your goodness and your sacrifices,

all your sacrifices.

You were currently taking the job over for St. Peter at the gates of heaven for just a few minutes to await for any wondering souls to appear, to help guide them while he came back from a lunch break. Normally they wouldn't allow a human soul like yourself with little experience in this kind of task to take charge of such an important job, but you were close to many of the high ranking angels and you have proved your proficiency in tasks that you set your mind to, so you were glad to help those in need.

You stood there reading through the millions of pages looking over all kinds of names, all seemed like names that you wouldn't normally hear back in your time when you died. Some you liked, others didn't exactly pique your interest much, but the advancement of names since the 1930s surely proved how much times have changed and how quickly time seems to pass in heaven.

You wonder if it is in hell too.

'Hell?..' you wondered as you shook your head and sighed, your mind has been on that place lately and you wondered if it was even worth the rent free space in your mind.

You were currently slouched over the book and decided to close it with a glum look on your face, your elbows now resting on the golden podium and your hands cupping your face.

Geez, and you've been thinking a lot about your old man.

What-- no wait-

You shouldn't call him your old man, let alone your dad, not even father, pops-- not even by his damn name.

Even so, as much as you hated it.. you couldn't help but still use his last name sometimes since it's what you were given when you were first taken in.

Your last name?.. why, you're forgetting already?

_____ Altruist is who you a---

"HELLO??"

You snapped out of your thoughts as your head slipped from under your palms, face planting onto the cover of the enormous book. In embarrassment you snapped your head back up and your wings followed suit, spreading open behind you in shock as your eyes searched for the voice that called out to you from below.

You finally darted down to see three oddly shaped figures, your panicked vision soon relaxing to see two girls and a man dressed in red from tip to toe.

How peculiar.

Your eyes only set on the girl at the moment since she was the one waving at you and basically begging for your attention.

"Hello hello! uh.. Down here!" The girl with long locks of pale yellow hair waved, her smile widening when seeing she's caught your attention.

"Ah- yes yes! Hello hello! Welcome to Heaven! May I.. uh-" you scrambled nervously to open the book in the middle of it, "May I have your name please?"

She nodded, also returning a bit of a shy attitude back "Yes of course! My names Charlie Morningstar!"

Just like that you flicked the pages to go to the names that sounded similar to the girl's, mumbling her name under your breath as your finger traced down each name on the list.. to your dismay you couldn't find it.

"You don't seem to be on the list ma'am.. how weird.. does this usually happen with St. Peter?.." you spoke in concern, mumbling the last part to yourself.

The girl then started to explain something about her dad getting her a meeting, your mind a little clouded still trying to find her name until you heard the forbidden name that no one inside the pearly gates ever attempted to say out loud.

"-- maybe try, Lucifer.. Morning...star-"

And just like that you slammed the book closed, no words coming out of your mouth but an exasperated look of shock freezing your face.

"Oh-hoho... that explains so much--" you gave her a small sheepish smile, awkwardly looking off to the side where your eyes couldn't help but drag themselves to the man dressed in red.

"Miss you don't think.. you could've..." your eyes at first looked at the man's waist, his coat lightly shredded at the ends and the stripes of the long suit guided your eyes upwards "-gotten..." up and up and your eyes met his. The red eyes, the ears, the small horns, the horrific aura, and..

Oh dear, you'd recognize that damned smile anywhere.

"--lost..?" the end of your sentence dragged on, taking a long while to finish since all you could think about is how this man is at the front door step of the place he shouldn't even be considered in being let to enter.

Alastor, your father from the living realm. Not connected by blood but by life and connection.

The man where you got your last name from by being taken in and called his daughter.

The red deer demon seemed to recognize you as well, a spark in his devilish eyes proved it so, but it was very brief since he more or less also seemed to relish the look on your face with his smile stretched further up.. however further up it could get.

Charlie seemed concerned at your reaction, waving her hand in front of your face gently as if to get you out of this trance. "Heyyy... are you okay?.." she asked with genuine worry until all of you were focused away from this bizarre moment when a set of three angels befell before you all. The two seraphims and finally-- St. Peter off from his break.

"_____. We can take it from here, we appreciate the help." The highest and oldest seraphim announced your name and her appreciation while gliding down a bit more earlier than the blonde angel you covered for, she and the younger seraphim's forms going from their true to more human-like appearances.

"_____! My dear friend thank you so much for covering for me, always a real helper you!" St. Peter popped beside you as he praised you while gently flying beside you, you looked up at him with a small nervous smile before opening your own wings to flap down from his podium and let him get back on the job.

"It's no problem at all, you know me! Always.. happy to help.." you spoke your last words to him before your wings gently took you down to set yourself beside another one of your friends, Emily! You never talked much to Sera that wasn't in a formal setting but Emily seemed so easy to get along with. She gave you a tight squeeze of a hug while saying hello which eased your nerves a bit more, of course they never fully disappeared with the man who ruined everything before you let out your last breath.. standing right in front of you.

The man that brought you up here in the first place.

The seraphims introduced themselves to the three residents of hell, the deer demon more quiet until finally finding a spot of silence to jump in and introduce himself as well.

"Why hello, a real pleasure meeting you two quite the pleasure! Never thought I'd ever get to see an angel up this close in my life HAHA! The names Alastor!"

The voice, the radio static over it, his name.

It was him, you recognized it as if you listened to him on the radio just yesterday, your own personal hell.

Whatever reaction or words the higher ranked angels said seemed to fizzle out of your brain as they were replaced with the memories of your last moments on earth.

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

"Father!" you screamed as you ran up to your childhood home, the home to which you were raised and kept in, your home in which you lived in with your father, Alastor Altruist.

For sometime you had suspected foul play when it came to your father's weird actions when the night came, the tone he spoke through his radio show when announcing several murders happening across and haunting New Orleans. You just didn't want to truly believe that the man that found you, a poor little orphaned baby, and raised you would do such disgusting and diabolical crimes.

You couldn't believe it.. until you finally saw it.

Your legs scrambled and fought each step to become faster, finally reaching the door of your home you slammed it open with a strong kick after jiggling the doorknob didn't work.

You knew the next murder he would commit would happen in your home.. you thanked whatever force that made you disobey him and look through his study since if you didn't you wouldn't know that right now there was blood to be shed.

The door opening and with your kick full of adrenaline and panic it made the door barley cling onto it's hinges. There your father was, on top of a wounded man that seemed to be gurgling and gasping to breathe as the victim attempted to claw at Alastor's grasp. Pieces of glass and wood broken across the entire floor, walls bloodied and worn out, pictures that hung neatly now cracked and lopsided or shattered on the floor.

Whatever happened in here, the victim was sure a fighter in the beginning.

You immediately without hesitation with full force pushed Alastor off the man, pulling the bloodied stranger by his wrist. The victim and you stared for a moment, him mostly realizing that he's being saved by a young girl like you. His lips parted to thank you but you could see Alastor raise his kitchen knife in the air and sprinted toward him to stab him on the back.

With no words left to share or spill you grabbed the stranger by the shoulders and with all your might pushed him and yourself away so that in the end Alastor ended up stabbing nothing but air.

Alastor grunted in frustration, his bloodied smile yet never faltering despite the challenge you now gave him.

The man snapped his head at you, eyes fixated at you before snapping back to his victim and raising his knife up once more, in a haunting motion his steps creeped and creaked towards the injured New Orleans citizen stricken with fear and terror.

Just like that, Alastor slams his knife down with no hesitation. The knife fully in his prey with no inch of the blade uncovered.

Oh-- wait.

That shriek, the sobs, the shaky breathing and the coughs of blood.. that wasn't his victim.

It was you.

His daughter, he stabbed his daughter.

For a moment you could see his crazed smile falter, the humane part of him uncovering itself for a moment, for you.

His little girl was covered in her blood because of him, the little baby he found on that cold rainy day is dying because of him, his bundle of joy that he took years to take care of is leaving him.. and it's all his fault.

He didn't know it was you-- he didn't know you'd be that stupid to sacrifice yourself for some random prick.

He didn't know that in the end, someone as evil as him could have raised someone as selfless as you.

"p..papa..?" you whimpered, your painful coughs of blood spilling out and going down your chin and your neck. "It hurts-- g.. it hurts so much papa.." you cried as the knife in your chest seemed to feel as if it was melting into your skin, becoming one with you. It obviously wasn't but the pain was just that painful.

Alastor's smile faltered and kept trying to stay up, his own set of tears falling down his face and onto your cheeks that were slowly losing life. Regret stabbing his own heart the way he did to yours. He let go of the knife and instead cradled you in his arms, just like how he used to when you would have nightmares as a little girl.

"Shh.. Shh.." he shush you softly as he gently patted your head, moving away any uneven strands of hair he could spot with his hands trembling in regret. "Little one.. don't worry about a thing, papa's here.. " he mumbled, the gentleness replacing what once was pure aggressiveness.

Your eyes slowly started to flutter closed, your pulse slowing down, breathing less profound, your limbs going limp, and your face.. contorting into a peaceful state of slumber.

Alastor watched as you passed in his arms, his faltering smile picking itself up once more to stretch itself across his face with tears pouring out his eyes. This wasn't a smile of joy, it was a smile to hide what he truly felt.. to lie to himself. "My little angel, forgive me please."

Those were his last words to you, words that in the end you couldn't hear.

And that man he tried to kill earlier? He escaped when he was given the chance, Alastor was sure the cops were to invade his home soon.. now there was just one thing left to do before he'd be found once again to pay the consequences.

He took your body to a beautiful forest filled with flower meadows. Alastor knew this was one of your favorite spots as a young girl, why not let you rest here.

Ah but as he was preparing to bury you in your final resting place... that darn deer hunter.

Well, you know the story. Mistaken for a deer, shot, that's the end of Alastor Altruist and his darling daughter, ______ Altruist.

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

As you stood there you were awoken from your thoughts with the high angels escorting the princess and her other female companion into the gates of heaven, St. Peter welcoming them humbly with one of heaven's popular songs.

You were frozen, in shock. A chill went down your spine as you felt a foreign energy come closer.

You felt long fingers grapple themselves onto your shoulder which made you dramatically turn towards the hand and away from it.

Your father wanted to talk to you.

Your contrasting colors and appearances made this reunitement even more uncomfortable for you, his demon form seeming to match his disgusting self that he hid from the human world before.

His face was hard to read, especially with that signature smile of his that even in death he would never get rid of.

"Little one, my darling daughter.." he spoke, his voice seemingly trying to seem genuine but the radio filter over it made it feel condescending to you.. as if mocking you.

The look on your face was evident, you missed him so much but hated him with your entire being because of that hidden side he kept for years.

He continued "My little ____... out of all places I never thought I'd see you here. Oh but it's definitely much better than down under my little dove.."

Geez what was he even saying?? What were his intentions..?? You couldn't tell.. after all this time, you couldn't forgive this man, this serial killer, this demon, this.. monster. You couldn't.. not this soon anyways.

You took a deep inhale and exhale before fixing your posture and stance, trying to seem more professional and confident. "Sir, your hosts and companions are ahead of you. You wouldn't want to miss your introduction to a place you'll never see again after this day." Your voice stern and professional, trying your best to be void of emotion.

"Darling.. is that truly a way to greet your dear ol' father?" He spoke, hand stretched out while the other held onto his staff.

"Your friends are waiting on you, don't be late Alastor."

Just like that you turned your heel and gave him the cold shoulder, your wings spread and started flapping. Taking you up and away further into your home.. Alastor watched you as you left him once again, this time by choice.

Ah but he knew, he'd have his darling daughter back soon. His little angel that he cared for will forgive him.. he knew you had to.

With his grin widening even further he walked to catch up to the Princess of hell and her partner into the pearly gates, to see what other thing could entertain him while his daughter snapped back to her senses.

(hello!! thank you so much for reading I had a blast with this. as you can tell. once again thank you so much for reading! hope to see you soon! mwa mwa!)

[horrorofmyown]

I’m not into submissive men but….

There can always be exceptions

[reidmarieprentiss]

Lost & Found

Summary: You suffer memory loss after an accident, only remembering your sister, Emily, and not your boyfriend, Spencer.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Category: fluff, angst, hurt/comfort

Warnings/Includes: car accident, depressive thoughts, fighting, crying, memory loss, struggling with memory loss, showering together, suggestive content (16+), use of Y/N

Word count: 19.6k

a/n: this reminds me of the vow lol my bad but i already wrote it sooo

main masterlist

The sun had just begun to rise over Washington, D.C., casting long shadows across the bustling streets. You were driving to work, your thoughts on the day ahead, when the unthinkable happened. Out of nowhere, a semi-truck barreled down the road, its brakes screaming in protest, unable to halt its deadly path. There was no time to react. The world slowed as the massive vehicle collided with the driver’s side of your car, the sound of metal crunching filling the air like a thunderclap.

—

Spencer Reid sat in a sterile conference room, surrounded by maps and case files in a small town in Missouri. He was miles away from home, yet his mind kept drifting back to you. It had been a little over two years since you and Spencer began dating, and in that time, he had come to rely on your comforting presence. Even though he was away, the two of you made it a point to call each other whenever possible, exchanging stories about your days and sharing a few jokes. Today, he hadn’t heard from you yet, and a nagging feeling tugged at the back of his mind.  

The shrill ring of his phone jolted Spencer out of his thoughts. Hotch was in mid-sentence when Spencer abruptly stood up, excusing himself from the meeting as he glanced down at the caller ID and recognized your best friend’s name. 

“Hey, Spencer! Sorry for calling so early, I just wanted to ask if you knew what Y/N would like for her birthday dinner!” they chirped, their voice a bit muffled from what sounded like some activity in the background. “She’s so picky, you know! Maybe we could make a surprise for her?”

“I...I don’t know. I haven’t spoken to her yet today,” Spencer admitted, his voice nearly shaking. “But she loves Italian food, maybe pasta?” 

“Oh, of course! I’ll start with that, then. Thanks, Spencer!” they replied before hanging up, oblivious to the gravity of the situation.

The call left Spencer feeling hollow, a growing sense of dread gnawing at him. He sank back into his chair, his mind reeling. Moments later, his phone rang again, and he picked it up without even glancing at the screen. This time, the voice on the other end was urgent and frantic, and Spencer’s heart sank as he listened. 

"Hello?" he said, trying to keep his voice steady, though the room was still buzzing around him.

“Spencer Reid?” a calm, authoritative voice inquired on the other end.

“Yes, this is he,” Spencer replied, straightening up slightly as he recognized the tone of someone delivering important information.

“This is St. Agnes Hospital in Washington, D.C.," the voice continued. "I’m calling about Y/N L/N.”

Spencer's heart skipped a beat. The mention of your name brought everything else to a halt, and he felt a wave of apprehension wash over him.

“She has been in an accident,” the voice said, and Spencer could hear the weight behind those words. “You are listed as her emergency contact, how soon can you get here?”

He froze, unable to process the words as they echoed in his mind. “An accident?” he finally managed, his voice barely above a whisper. "What happened?"

“There was a collision with a semi-truck,” the hospital staffer explained, their voice professional yet tinged with compassion. “Y/N was seriously injured. She’s currently in surgery, but it’s critical.”

Spencer's mind raced, each word like a punch to his gut. “Is she—” he started, his voice breaking. “Is she going to be okay?”

“We’re doing everything we can, Dr. Reid,” the worker reassured him gently. “But you should get here as soon as you can.”

He nodded, though the person on the other end couldn't see him, trying to gather his thoughts through the haze of shock. The room around him felt surreal, the voices of his colleagues fading into the background.

“Thank you,” Spencer managed to say, his voice shaky with barely restrained panic. “I’m on my way from Missouri, I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

As he ended the call, Spencer abruptly returned, shoes pounding against the floor. His teammates noticed the sudden change in his demeanor, their conversations pausing as they turned to him with concern.

“Spencer?” Emily asked, noticing the ashen look on his face. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s Y/N,” Spencer said, his voice tight with urgency. “There’s been an accident. I need to get home.”

Without waiting for a response, he grabbed his things, already planning his route to the nearest airport in his head. His heart pounded in his chest, each beat echoing the urgency to be by your side, to hold your hand, to be there when you needed him most.

“We’ll cover things here,” Hotch assured him, stepping forward. “Go.”

“Thanks,” Spencer replied, his voice holding gratitude and desperation. He turned to leave, his thoughts solely focused on getting back to you, hoping with every fiber of his being that he wouldn’t be too late.

—

Spencer couldn’t remember the flight home. The moments blurred together as his mind replayed the words over and over: life support, coma, severe accident. They echoed in his head, refusing to let him think of anything else. His team had rallied around him, offering words of support and handling the details to get him back as quickly as possible. 

As the plane touched down in Washington, Spencer felt the full weight of the situation crashing down on him. His legs trembled as he stood, a numbness spreading through his body as he made his way through the terminal. 

The hospital was a short drive away, and yet it felt like an eternity. He barely registered the buildings and streets flashing by as he sat in the back seat of a cab, his heart pounding with each passing moment. 

Finally, he arrived at the hospital, a large, imposing building that now seemed more like a fortress. Spencer rushed through the doors, barely acknowledging the bustling activity around him as he focused solely on reaching you. He navigated the maze of hallways with a determination that surprised even him, eventually finding his way to the ICU. 

Your room was sterile and filled with the rhythmic beeping of machines, each sound a stark reminder of your fragile condition. Spencer stopped short at the sight of you lying in the hospital bed, tubes and wires snaking across your body. His heart wrenched at the sight, a profound ache settling in his chest as he slowly approached. 

“Y/N,” he whispered, his voice cracking with emotion. 

He took a shaky breath, feeling the enormity of the situation press down on him. He felt helpless, watching the steady rise and fall of your chest with the assistance of the ventilator, knowing there was nothing he could do to change what had happened. 

Spencer reached out, his hand trembling as he gently took yours. The warmth of your skin was a small comfort, a reminder that you were still there, still fighting. 

“I’m here,” he said softly, his voice breaking as he spoke. “I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere. Please, Y/N... please come back to me.” 

The room was silent except for the steady hum of the machines, and Spencer felt a tear slide down his cheek. He brushed it away, leaning forward to press a gentle kiss to your forehead. 

—

The hours that followed were a blur. Spencer sat by your side, his hand never leaving yours as he kept a silent vigil. The nurses and doctors came and went, their words and actions a distant murmur as Spencer focused solely on you. He remembered snippets of conversations, assurances that you were receiving the best care possible, and updates on your condition that offered little comfort. 

In those moments, Spencer clung to hope. He recalled all the times you had smiled at him, the way your eyes lit up when you were excited or passionate about something. He remembered the quiet moments you shared, the laughter and love that had blossomed between you over the past years. 

—

Three Days Later

Spencer hadn’t left the hospital since he arrived. The team had been by his side, offering support and keeping him company, but he barely registered their presence. All that mattered was you, and the hope that you would wake up and return to him. 

On the third day, the doctor came in with a more hopeful expression than before. He checked the monitors, made some notes, and then turned to Spencer with a small smile. 

“There’s been some improvement,” he said gently. “It’s a good sign. We’re going to try reducing the sedation and see how she responds.”

Spencer felt a flicker of hope at the words, his heart clenching with a mix of anticipation and fear. He nodded, unable to trust his voice as he watched the doctor adjust the IV line. They assured him they would keep him informed as soon as your surgery was complete and directed him to the waiting area, where he could collect himself while waiting for more information.

Spencer made his way to the waiting room, his thoughts a whirlwind of emotions. Memories of you together flooded his mind: the quiet evenings spent curled up on the couch, the laughter shared over inside jokes, and the whispered promises of a future together. He sat down, feeling the weight of uncertainty pressing down on him, wondering what the next few hours would bring.

—

The hours stretched on interminably, each tick of the clock echoing loudly in Spencer's ears as he waited in the sterile waiting room. He couldn't bring himself to focus on anything other than the thought of you, lying in surgery, fighting for your life. The antiseptic smell of the hospital, the murmur of other patients and visitors, all faded into the background as he replayed every memory he had of you in his mind, trying to cling to the hope that you would pull through.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, a doctor approached Spencer with a solemn expression. "Dr. Reid?" the doctor asked, and Spencer quickly stood, his heart pounding in his chest.

"Yes, that's me," Spencer replied, his voice fullof hope and anxiety.

"The surgery was successful," the doctor said, offering a small, reassuring smile. "We were able to stabilize her, and she's currently in the ICU under observation."

Spencer felt a rush of relief wash over him, though the gravity of the situation was still heavy on his shoulders. "Thank you," he said sincerely, his voice trembling with emotion. "Thank you so much."

The doctor nodded, understanding the depth of Spencer's gratitude. "She's not out of the woods yet," the doctor continued, "but she's made it through the worst part. However, I need to prepare you for the possibility that there may be complications. We won't know the full extent until she regains consciousness."

Spencer nodded, taking in the doctor's words with a mix of relief and apprehension. He felt his breath catch in his throat, knowing that there was still a long road ahead, but grateful for the chance to be by your side as you began to recover.

—

You pulled through, but it wasn't without its challenges. When you finally awoke, the room was filled with the soft beeping of monitors and the faint hum of medical equipment. Everything felt disorienting as you blinked against the harsh fluorescent lights, trying to make sense of where you were and what had happened.

Spencer was at your side, his eyes filled with relief and worry as he watched you stir. He reached out to take your hand, squeezing it gently in reassurance. "Y/N," he said softly, his voice thick with emotion. "You're awake."

You turned your head slightly, trying to focus on the man before you. He looked somewhat familiar, yet your mind struggled to place him. The last thing you remembered was being 18, living with your sister Emily, and yet here you were, in a hospital bed, with a stranger by your side.

"Who are you?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. The question hung in the air, heavy with the weight of uncertainty.

Spencer felt his heart drop at your words, a painful realization settling in. He had hoped that when you woke up, everything would be back to normal, that you would go back to the life you had built together. But the look of confusion and fear in your eyes told him everything he needed to know.

"I'm Spencer," he said gently, trying to keep his voice steady despite the turmoil inside. "I'm your boyfriend. We've been together for over two years. You live with me."

You shook your head slowly, trying to wrap your mind around his words. It felt like a dream, a reality you couldn't quite grasp. "No," you said, your voice breaking with frustration and fear. "I live with my sister, Emily. I don't know you."

Spencer felt a wave of sadness wash over him, but he forced himself to stay strong for you. He knew this was a possibility, that the trauma of the accident could have affected your memory, but hearing it from you was a different reality altogether. He took a deep breath, his heart aching with every word he prepared to say.

“Um, no. I—I don’t know how to tell you this, but, uh…” Spencer tried to speak through the tears coming on, his voice trembling. “You are 25 years old, Emily is 38,  and you work as a liaison for the Sex Crimes Unit in the FBI. Emily and I work together in the Behavioral Analysis Unit. We met through Emily, and now you live with me. You were in a severe car accident three days ago, and you may be suffering from amnesia.”

His words hung in the air like a cloud, heavy and dense, as you struggled to process what he was telling you. The hospital room felt colder, the sterile smell more pronounced, as your mind tried to catch up with the information being presented to you. Everything he said felt distant and unfamiliar, like a story someone else was telling, not your own life.

“Amnesia?” you repeated, the word foreign on your tongue. You could feel panic beginning to rise in your chest, the fear of the unknown pressing down on you. “How is this possible? I—I don’t remember any of this.”

Spencer’s heart broke at the fear in your eyes, and he longed to reach out and comfort you. But he knew that, to you, he was a stranger, someone who claimed to know you but didn’t feel real. He had to tread carefully, to give you space to process the situation at your own pace.

“It’s okay,” Spencer said softly, his eyes filled with compassion. “I know this is a lot to take in. You’ve been through so much, and I’m here for you. We can take this one step at a time. Whatever you need, I’m here to help.”

You looked at him, studying his face for any sign of deception or recognition, but all you saw was sincerity. It was both comforting and unsettling. Here was a man who seemed to care deeply for you, yet you couldn’t find a single memory to support his claims. It was like standing at the edge of a vast, unknown ocean, unsure whether to step forward or retreat.

“I just... I don’t understand how I got here,” you said, your voice small and uncertain, the edges of panic sharpening your words. Your eyes filled with tears as you grappled with the enormity of your situation. “Where’s Emily? I want to see Emily,” you added, the tears now spilling over, and you could feel your chest tighten with fear and helplessness. 

Spencer felt a painful twist in his heart as he watched you cry, the sight of your distress cutting through him like a knife. He knew how much you relied on Emily before, but he had been your rock these past years. To not be able to comfort you in your time of need tore him apart. Despite the situation, he felt a glimmer of relief that you still remembered your sister, a familiar anchor in a sea of unfamiliar faces and places.

“She’s at home sleeping. I’ll give her a call,” Spencer assured you, reaching for his phone with a steady hand, though inside he felt anything but calm. He wanted to be the one to comfort you, to hold you and tell you that everything would be okay, but he understood that right now, Emily was the person you needed most. 

“Thank you,” you whispered, your voice thick with emotion. You wiped at your tears, feeling both grateful and overwhelmed by the kindness of this man who seemed so determined to help you, even though you couldn’t remember him.

Spencer stepped out into the hallway to make the call, wanting to give you a moment of privacy. The hospital corridor was quiet, save for the distant murmur of medical staff and the occasional beep of machinery. He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself before dialing Emily’s number. 

“Spencer?” Emily’s voice was groggy but instantly alert as she answered the call, concern evident in her tone. “Is everything okay? How’s Y/N?”

Spencer swallowed hard, feeling the weight of the situation pressing down on him. “Emily, she’s awake,” he said, his voice tight with emotion. “But she doesn’t remember anything from the past seven years. She thinks she’s still living with you.”

“Oh my God,” Emily breathed, the shock clear in her voice. “Is she okay? What did the doctors say?”

“They think it’s retrograde amnesia caused by the trauma of the accident,” Spencer explained, running a hand through his hair as he spoke. “She’s asking for you, Emily. She’s really scared.”

“I’ll be there as soon as I can,” Emily promised, already moving to get dressed. “Tell her I’m on my way, okay? And Spencer... thank you for being there with her. I know this must be incredibly hard for you.”

Spencer nodded, even though Emily couldn’t see him. “I’ll tell her. Drive safely.”

After ending the call, Spencer returned to your room, his heart heavy with the knowledge of how disorienting this must be for you. He found you sitting up slightly, your eyes still red from crying but showing a flicker of hope at the mention of your sister.

“Emily’s on her way,” Spencer said gently, offering you a small, reassuring smile. “She should be here soon.”

You nodded, the knowledge that Emily was coming bringing you a semblance of comfort. But still, questions swirled in your mind, the uncertainty of your situation looming large.

"Thank you, um, what was your name again?" you asked softly, your voice hesitant and tinged with the confusion that clouded your mind. 

Spencer’s heart ached at the question, a painful reminder of the gap that now existed between you. But he managed a gentle smile, determined to be patient and understanding. 

“Spencer,” he said quietly, meeting your gaze with a steady warmth. “My name is Spencer.”

You nodded slowly, trying to commit his name to memory, even though it felt like grasping at straws. There was something comforting about the way he looked at you, a sense of safety that you couldn’t quite explain.

“Thank you, Spencer,” you repeated, hoping that saying his name would help anchor you in this unfamiliar reality. Despite the overwhelming uncertainty, you felt a small sense of reassurance knowing he was there, a steady presence in the storm of your fractured memories.

—

Emily arrived at the hospital within the hour, her eyes filled with concern and determination as she made her way to your room. When she saw you, relief flooded her features, and she rushed to your side, wrapping her arms around you in a warm, reassuring embrace.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Emily murmured, holding you tightly as she stroked your hair. “I’m here, Y/N. We’ll figure this out together.”

You clung to her, the familiar comfort of her presence grounding you in the midst of the chaos. For the first time since waking up, you felt a sense of safety, a reminder of the life you remembered.

Spencer watched the reunion, his heart aching with a mixture of emotions. He was grateful that Emily was there for you, knowing how much you needed her support right now. But there was also a longing, a deep-seated hope that one day, you would remember the life you had built with him, the love that had grown between you.

As you leaned into Emily's embrace, you whispered, “Can you stay with me, please?” Your voice was soft, almost childlike in its vulnerability, and Spencer’s heart clenched at the sound of it.

Emily smiled gently, brushing a few strands of hair away from your face as she nodded. “Of course, I’m so sorry I wasn’t here,” she said, guilt tinging her words. “I came as soon as I heard.”

“It’s okay,” you replied, offering her a small, reassuring smile. “Peter is really nice.”

The misstep in Spencer's name hit him like a physical blow, and yet he understood. You were trying your best to piece things together, to make sense of the world around you, and that meant trying to fit him into a picture that didn’t quite match the reality you remembered. 

Emily glanced at Spencer, a flicker of understanding in her eyes as she gave him a supportive nod. She knew how hard this must be for him, watching you struggle to recall the love and life you shared. 

Spencer swallowed the lump in his throat, forcing himself to return Emily’s nod with a small, grateful smile. He knew that rebuilding the bridge to your past wouldn’t be easy, but he was willing to do whatever it took to help you find your way back. 

He remained quiet, a gentle presence in the background as Emily continued to comfort you, knowing that while he might not be the one you remembered now, he would do everything in his power to be the one you’d remember in the future.

—

Spencer eventually went home, the weight of the last few days pressing heavily on his shoulders. The hospital had become a second home in the wake of the accident, but now, as he drove through the familiar streets of Quantico, he felt the exhaustion finally catch up with him. 

The apartment was quiet when he arrived, the silence amplifying the absence of your presence. He dropped his bag by the door and stood in the entryway for a moment, looking around the space that had been your shared sanctuary. Everything about it—the framed photos, the little touches that marked your shared life—felt like an echo of the past he was desperate to help you remember.

He made his way to the bathroom, shedding his clothes and stepping into the shower. The hot water cascaded over him, washing away the grime and fatigue, but doing little to ease the turmoil inside. As the steam filled the room, Spencer closed his eyes, allowing the water to drown out the noise in his head for just a moment. 

He thought about you, lying in that hospital bed, trying to piece together a life you couldn’t remember. The thought of your struggle weighed heavily on him, and he wished more than anything that he could simply take away the burden of your amnesia. But he knew that wasn’t possible, and it frustrated him deeply.

Stepping out of the shower, Spencer wrapped a towel around his waist and caught his reflection in the mirror. The face staring back at him was etched with worry and sleepless nights. He knew he needed to rest, to recharge so he could be strong for you, but his mind was already racing with possibilities, with ways to help you find your way back to the life you had known.

Reluctantly, he made his way to the bedroom and sank into the mattress, pulling the covers over himself. 

—

When Spencer awoke, the morning light was filtering through the curtains, casting a warm glow across the room. He stretched, feeling the knots in his muscles protest at the movement, but he pushed through, determined to make the most of the day ahead.

His mind immediately returned to you and the questions that had haunted him since the accident. He needed answers, a plan, something tangible he could use to help you. Rising from the bed, he quickly dressed and made his way to the library, his thoughts already churning with possibilities.

The library was quiet, a haven of knowledge waiting to be tapped into. Spencer made his way through the aisles, pulling books from the shelves with practiced ease. He found volumes on neurology, psychology, and memory restoration, stacking them on the table as he prepared to dive deep into his research.

Sitting down, Spencer opened the first book, his fingers flipping through the pages with the kind of fervor only a man on a mission possessed. He absorbed every word, every study and theory on amnesia and retrograde amnesia, searching for anything that might provide a glimmer of hope.

He read about the mechanisms of memory, the ways trauma could affect the brain's ability to store and retrieve information. He learned about the potential for memory recovery, the techniques that could aid in jogging the mind back to the present, and the importance of emotional connections in bridging the gaps.

As the hours passed, Spencer lost himself in the sea of information, each new piece of knowledge building upon the last. He scribbled notes in the margins, cross-referencing studies and compiling a mental list of strategies he could employ to help you.

It was a daunting task, but Spencer felt a sense of purpose in the research, a way to channel his love for you into something tangible. He was determined to do everything he could to help you regain your memory, to guide you back to the life you had shared together. 

For Spencer, this was more than just a quest for answers—it was a testament to the bond that had grown between you, a bond he was unwilling to let go of. He was ready to fight for your future, to be there for you in whatever capacity you needed, until the day your eyes lit up with recognition and the memories flooded back. 

With renewed resolve, Spencer closed the book he was reading, his mind buzzing with ideas and possibilities. He gathered his notes, feeling a sense of determination settle over him. He would be there for you, no matter how long it took, until you found your way back to him.

—

Spencer called Emily, feeling a slight tremor in his fingers as he punched in her number. He knew how delicate your situation was, and he didn’t want to risk upsetting you with his presence if it would cause more harm than good. As the phone rang, he took a deep breath, hoping that Emily would have some insight into how you were doing and whether it would be okay for him to visit.

“Hello?” Emily’s voice came through the line, sounding calm but tinged with exhaustion.

“Emily, it’s Spencer,” he said, trying to keep his voice steady despite the nervousness fluttering in his chest. “I wanted to check in and see how Y/N is doing... and if it would be alright for me to come back to the hospital. I don’t want to overwhelm her, but I think I might have found some helpful information on memory restoration tactics.”

There was a brief pause on the other end, and Spencer could hear the soft murmur of the hospital in the background, the distant beeps of monitors and the hushed conversations of medical staff. Emily sighed softly, and he could picture her leaning against the wall outside your room, her hand running through her hair as she considered his request.

“Spencer, she’s been asking about you,” Emily finally said, her voice gentle and reassuring. “I think she wants to start trying to piece things together a little, and having you here might actually help.”

The fragments of your past felt like pieces of a puzzle scattered across the table, and you were trying to fit them together. The memory of just having graduated college and moving in with Emily in Europe while she worked for Interpol was clear in your mind, yet the reality you were living in contradicted that memory in every way. You obviously went to college, got an important job, met someone, and fell in love. That would be nice to remember.

The thought of your life now—a life filled with achievements, meaningful relationships, and moments of joy—was enticing. You felt a sense of longing to reconnect with those parts of yourself, to remember the paths that led you to where you were today. The idea of having accomplished so much, of having people in your life who cared deeply for you, filled you with both curiosity and determination.

You sat in the hospital bed, the beeping of the monitors a constant reminder of the present, and tried to reconcile the gap between what you knew and what was real. There was a sense of urgency within you, a desire to reclaim the life that had slipped through your fingers due to the accident.

As you contemplated this, Spencer arrived, a reassuring presence amidst the confusion. He had a folder in hand, filled with information he’d painstakingly gathered to aid in your recovery. His expression was one of quiet resolve, a testament to his commitment to helping you find your way back.

“Hey, Y/N,” Spencer greeted softly, taking a seat beside your bed. His eyes were warm and encouraging, and you couldn’t help but feel comforted by his presence. “I know this is a lot to take in, but I’ve found some information that might help you remember.”

You nodded, eager to hear what he had discovered. The prospect of understanding more about your life, your achievements, and the connection you shared with Spencer filled you with hope.

Spencer opened the folder, revealing a collection of notes, articles, and studies on memory restoration and retrograde amnesia. “I’ve been looking into different techniques and therapies that could aid in restoring your memories,” he explained, his voice steady and full of purpose.

He began to outline the various strategies he had found, discussing everything from cognitive therapy and memory exercises to more experimental approaches. As he spoke, you listened intently, absorbing the possibilities and feeling a flicker of determination ignite within you.

“I believe that with the right approach and support, we can hopefully help you piece together your memories,” Spencer said, his gaze meeting yours with unwavering sincerity. “I’m here to support you in whatever way you need. We can do this together, one step at a time.”

His words resonated with you, and you found yourself nodding along, feeling a renewed sense of hope. The idea of reclaiming your memories, of rediscovering the life you had built, felt like a light at the end of a long tunnel. 

“Thank you, Spencer,” you said softly, your voice filled with gratitude. “I want to remember.”

—

The hospital released you into Emily’s care. While the medical staff had done everything they could, the journey to regaining your memory would continue outside the hospital walls.

The decision to stay with Emily instead of Spencer hurt him, but it felt like the right choice for now. As much as Spencer wanted to be there for you, he understood the need for you to be in an environment that felt familiar and safe. The last thing he wanted was to push you further away by overwhelming you with too much, too soon.

“It’s okay,” Spencer assured you as you prepared to leave the hospital. His voice was steady, but the flicker of pain in his eyes was unmistakable. “I understand. Emily will take good care of you, and I’m just a phone call away if you need anything.”

You nodded, appreciating his understanding. A part of you felt guilty for not choosing to stay with him, especially considering how kind and supportive he had been. But the gaps in your memory left you feeling adrift, and being with Emily was like holding onto a piece of your past that still made sense. Besides, he was still technically a stranger.

—

The drive to yours and Spencer’s apartment was quiet, Emily navigating the streets with the ease of someone who knew them well. You sat in the passenger seat, watching the city pass by, anticipation and apprehension swirling within you. This was a chance to see the life you had built, to find clues that might help bridge the chasm between the past you remembered and the present you couldn’t grasp.

Arriving at the apartment building, you felt a sense of déjà vu, as if you had been here countless times before, but it was all shrouded in fog. Emily led you up to the front door, her presence reassuring and calm as she unlocked it and gestured for you to step inside.

The apartment was warm and inviting, filled with little touches that spoke of a life shared between two people. You took a tentative step inside, your eyes scanning the space as you tried to grasp any spark of recognition. The furniture, the décor, the scent of your favorite candle burning on the coffee table—everything felt just out of reach.

But it was the photographs that caught your attention, lining the walls and filling the shelves with captured moments of happiness and love. You walked over to a series of framed photos, your heart aching at the sight of the images. There you were, smiling and laughing with Spencer, your faces filled with joy.

There was a picture of the two of you on a hiking trip, arms around each other as you gazed at the camera, the sun setting behind you. Another of you dancing together at what appeared to be a wedding, Spencer’s hand on the small of your back, your face lit with laughter.

And then there was the one that brought tears to your eyes—an image of you and Spencer sharing a tender kiss, your arms wrapped around his neck, his hand gently holding your waist while the other stretched out to hold the camera. The love captured in that single moment was undeniable, and yet it was a memory you couldn’t access, a chapter of your life that felt painfully distant.

Tears streamed down your cheeks as the weight of what you had lost settled over you. You turned away from the photos, covering your face with your hands as sobs wracked your body. The sadness was overwhelming, a deep, unbearable grief for the beautiful life you couldn’t remember.

Emily was at your side in an instant, her arm wrapping around you as she whispered soothing words, trying to calm the storm of emotions that had taken hold.

“I’m so sorry,” you cried, your voice breaking with the depth of your sorrow. “I’m so sorry, Spencer. I wish I could remember. I wish I could—”

Spencer’s expression was filled with compassion and understanding, though his heart ached at the sight of your distress. He longed to reach out and hold you, to reassure you that it was okay, that you would find your way back to him in time. But he knew that the memories were something you had to reclaim on your own.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Spencer said gently, his voice soft and comforting. “It’s not your fault. None of this is your fault.”

Despite his reassuring words, the pain of not being able to remember was too much to bear. You were inconsolable, and Emily could see that you needed space to process everything, away from the emotional overload of the apartment.

“Let’s go home, Y/N,” Emily suggested softly, guiding you toward the door with a gentle touch. “We can come back another time when you’re ready.”

You nodded, allowing her to lead you away, the tears still streaming down your face. Spencer watched as Emily escorted you out, his heart heavy with sadness. 

—

The following Monday, the next step in your recovery journey was to visit your workplace, a place where you had spent countless hours building a career you could no longer remember. The decision to bring you back into the office was made with the hope that it might jog some of your lost memories, and while it felt daunting, you were determined to face it head-on.

Emily drove you to the FBI headquarters, the massive building both imposing and familiar as you approached. You had been nervous about this visit, unsure of how it would make you feel or what it might stir within you. Your unit chief had been extremely understanding about your situation, assuring you that you had all the time you needed to recover and that your job would be waiting for you if and when you were ready to return. The possibility of never coming back loomed large, but today was about exploring what felt right.

As you walked through the corridors, passing colleagues who greeted you with warm smiles and words of encouragement, you felt a mixture of anxiety and curiosity. The familiarity of the surroundings tugged at the edges of your mind, teasing you with whispers of recognition that were just out of reach.

When you finally reached your desk, something shifted within you. A small sense of familiarity washed over you, grounding you in a way that you hadn't expected. The space was uniquely yours, decorated with personal touches that reflected your personality and interests. The colorful keyboard and mouse pad, the photos adorning your workspace, all felt like pieces of yourself that you were slowly rediscovering.

Emily stood beside you, watching as you took it all in. Her presence was reassuring, a steady hand on your shoulder as you navigated the myriad of emotions swirling within you.

"This is your desk," Emily said gently, gesturing to the array of decorations and mementos that made it uniquely yours. 

You ran your fingers over the keyboard, tracing the familiar keys, and then turned your attention to the photos. There were images of you and Emily from your first apartment together in D.C., snapshots of a time when life felt full of possibility and adventure. Your eyes lingered on the photos of you and Spencer, capturing moments of joy and love that you desperately wished to remember.

One photo, in particular, caught your eye. It was of you and another person, both of you with wide smiles, arms wrapped tightly around each other, faces pressed together in a display of friendship and affection. The bond between you was evident, even in a still image, and you felt a pang of longing to recall the memories associated with it.

“Who are all of these people?” you asked, your voice tinged with curiosity and a hint of sadness.

Emily leaned in, pointing to the photo of you and the person who seemed to be a close friend. “That is your best friend, Noah,” she explained. Her smile was warm, the fondness for your friendship evident in her tone. “You two have been inseparable for years. They’ve been by your side through thick and thin.”

You studied the photo, trying to summon any fragment of memory, but the connection eluded you. Still, it was comforting to know that you had someone like Noah in your life, a constant presence of support and friendship.

Emily then pointed to another photo, this one featuring a large group of people gathered in a spacious kitchen that looked to be part of a grand mansion. The scene was lively and filled with laughter, the closeness between everyone palpable even in a photograph.

“And that,” Emily said, gesturing to the group photo, “is my team. The Behavioral Analysis Unit, at David Rossi’s house for pasta and wine. It’s a tradition of ours to get together and unwind after a long week. You’ve become a part of that tradition too.”

The photo brought a sense of warmth and belonging that tugged at your heartstrings. Though you couldn’t remember the specifics of the event, the image conveyed a sense of community and acceptance, a reminder that you were surrounded by people who cared for you deeply.

You nodded, feeling a mix of emotions—gratefulness for the connections you had forged, sadness for the memories that remained out of reach, and determination to piece it all together. As overwhelming as it was, the visit to your workplace had sparked something within you, a desire to reclaim the life you had lost and reconnect with the people who meant so much to you.

“Thank you for bringing me here, Emily,” you said softly, turning to your sister with gratitude in your eyes.

Emily smiled, her hand squeezing your shoulder reassuringly. “You’re doing great, Y/N.”

—

After spending some time familiarizing yourself with your desk and the environment, you felt a little more grounded. Emily suggested taking a break, and the two of you made your way to the break room for some coffee. The small talk and casual atmosphere provided a sense of normalcy, and you found yourself relaxing into the environment, even if it still felt like you were seeing it all for the first time.

As you sipped your coffee, Emily shared stories about the team, painting vivid pictures of the friendships that had developed over the years. Her words were filled with warmth, and you could sense the deep bond that connected everyone in the unit.

“–and then you and Penelope performed as much of the Rent musical as you could while Spencer took you home from girls' night.”

You laughed, a joyous feeling after all the sadness and confusion you’d been wearing like a cloud. It felt good to feel lighthearted again, if only for a moment, and the image of yourself belting out show tunes with Penelope at the top of your lungs was both hilarious and comforting.

“Was he mad?” you asked, picturing the scene in your mind.

“Quite the opposite,” Emily said, her eyes twinkling with amusement at the memory. “He asked you out the next week at work.”

“That’s so sweet,” you said, a warm glow spreading through you at the thought of Spencer’s patience and kindness. 

“He really loves you,” Emily added, her voice gentle and full of sincerity. 

You looked down at your coffee cup, a mix of emotions swirling within you. “I just can’t believe I’m loved so much by someone I don’t remember,” you said softly, your words carrying the weight of your current reality. 

Spencer hadn’t meant to eavesdrop, but as he was walking to the break room, your voice reached his ears, and he froze just outside the door. The sound of your laughter was like music to him, a familiar melody he had sorely missed since the accident. It felt normal to hear you in the building, like it had been before, a sense of déjà vu that was both comforting and bittersweet.

But hearing that last snippet of conversation—that you couldn’t believe you were loved by someone you didn’t remember—was like a punch to the gut. It was a reminder of how much had been lost, how fragile the threads of your connection had become in the wake of your amnesia.

Spencer’s heart clenched with longing and sadness. He wanted to be there with you, to share in the laughter and help rebuild the life you had once shared. Yet, he also knew that the path to healing was not a straight line and that you needed time to find your footing.

With a heavy heart, Spencer decided against going into the break room. He felt it would be too much to face you right then, knowing that he was part of the gap in your memory. He turned on his heel, heading back to his desk with a resolve to give you the space you needed while still being there for you in whatever way he could.

Back in his office, Spencer tried to focus on his work, but his mind kept drifting back to you and the conversation he had overheard. He wished he could do more, be more, to help you remember. The thought of the love you had shared, a love you now couldn’t recall, weighed heavily on him.

—

Over the next few weeks, life became a series of ups and downs, filled with moments of both clarity and confusion. Living with Emily had its comforting moments—her presence a soothing balm to the chaos in your mind. You cherished the time you spent with her, grateful for the bond that had been rekindled. You missed Emily deeply during high school, and living with her felt like a second chance to reconnect and make up for lost time. 

But the reason for your reunion weighed heavily on you. You were so happy to be living with Emily again, until you remembered why. Some nights, the memories—or lack thereof—were overwhelming, and you’d find yourself crying silently into your pillow, grieving for the life you learned about but couldn’t recall. You mourned for the person you once were, the experiences you’d lost, and the love you had built with Spencer, a man who was now a stranger in your life.

In those darker moments, a part of you wondered if a second accident could somehow reverse the damage, though you knew deep down that it wouldn’t work. The thought was fleeting, a desperate whisper in your mind, quickly silenced by the knowledge that the path to healing lay elsewhere.

You wanted to love Spencer, you really did. Everything you’d learned about him painted a picture of a man who was kind, intelligent, and deeply devoted to you. But every time you looked at him, all you felt was a sense of apathy and resentment. It was an unfair burden, one you didn’t want to carry but couldn’t seem to shake. He knew you, but you didn’t know him. He had gotten to know the you that you couldn’t remember, had built a life with a version of yourself that no longer existed. 

Safe to say, you hadn’t spoken to anyone but Emily since that day at Spencer’s apartment. Despite Emily’s best efforts to coax you out of your shell, to encourage you to re-engage with the world, you found solace only in her presence. She would suggest small outings, opportunities to reintroduce you to the life you’d lived—a coffee date with Penelope, a lunch with Noah, a casual dinner with the BAU team—but you declined each invitation with a sense of dread.

—

Emily understood your reluctance, though she worried about the isolation you were imposing on yourself. She was patient, never pushing too hard, but she tried her best to gently encourage you to take those first steps toward reconnecting with your life.

"Y/N," she said one afternoon as you both sat in the living room, the afternoon sun streaming through the windows. "I know it’s hard, but you have so many people who care about you. They’re all here, ready to support you whenever you’re ready."

You nodded, your eyes fixed on the floor. “I know,” you replied softly, your voice tinged with frustration and sadness. “I just... I don’t know how to face them, Emily. It’s like they’re expecting me to be someone I’m not.”

Emily reached over, taking your hand in hers, her grip reassuring. “They’re not expecting anything,” she said gently. “They just want to be there for you, to help you find your way back. And you don’t have to do it alone. I’ll be with you.”

Despite her words, the idea of facing Spencer or any of your friends felt daunting. It wasn’t just about remembering; it was about rebuilding a sense of self that had been shattered by the accident. You felt like a puzzle with missing pieces, unsure of how to fit back into the picture of your own life.

—

One night, as you lay in bed, the weight of it all pressed heavily on your chest. You stared at the ceiling, the darkness a mirror to the emptiness you felt inside. The person you were before the accident seemed like a ghost, haunting the edges of your consciousness, taunting you with glimpses of a life you couldn’t quite grasp.

Tears slipped silently down your cheeks as you grieved for the life you’d lost, for the love that was now a distant memory. It felt like an insurmountable chasm between the past and present, a gap you couldn’t bridge no matter how hard you tried.

You curled up under the covers, wishing for relief from the emotional storm, longing for a sense of belonging that remained elusive. But as much as you yearned for the past, you knew the journey to healing had to start from where you were now—from this moment, with its uncertainties and challenges.

Emily found you the next morning, the traces of tears still visible on your face. She didn’t say anything, simply pulled you into a hug, offering her silent support. You leaned into her embrace, grateful for the unconditional love and understanding she provided.

“I’m here, Y/N,” Emily murmured, her voice steady and reassuring. “Whenever you’re ready to take that next step, I’m here.”

—

On a random Tuesday morning, you regained a glimpse of yourself. It was an ordinary day, the sun barely peeking over the horizon as you padded into the kitchen, the scent of freshly brewed coffee filling the air. Emily was already there, pouring herself a cup and offering you a warm smile as you entered.

"Good morning," she said, her voice carrying the comforting tone you had come to rely on over the past few weeks.

“Did I bring any files home?” you asked, the question slipping out naturally as if it were the most normal thing in the world. “I want to review the Cooper case.”

Emily whipped around so fast she thought she might get whiplash, her eyes wide with shock and a glimmer of hope. “What did you just say?” she asked, her voice almost trembling with anticipation.

“The Cooper case?” you repeated, frowning slightly as you tried to grasp the memory that felt just within reach. “Oh, I wanted to review the evidence for the upcoming trial. I want to make sure that son of a bitch gets locked away.”

Emily’s face lit up with astonishment and disbelief, a slow grin spreading across her features. “Y/N… how do you remember that?” she asked, her voice tinged with awe.

“What?” you blinked, the realization dawning on you like a gentle wave, the fog lifting ever so slightly. “Oh…” you murmured, the pieces clicking into place.

“Oh my god! Oh my god! I remember!” you exclaimed, your heart pounding with excitement and relief.

“Do you remember anything else?” Emily asked eagerly, stepping closer as if to catch every word.

“My, um, my unit chief… her name is, uh, Sarah Freeman!” you said, a smile breaking across your face as more fragments of memory bubbled to the surface. It was like pulling on a thread and watching a tapestry unfold before your eyes.

“That’s amazing! You’re amazing!” Emily cheered, her eyes shining with pride and joy. She grabbed your hands, squeezing them tightly as if to anchor this precious moment in reality. “I’m going to call your doctor! Keep thinking!”

You nodded, your mind racing with possibilities. There was a thrill in the air, a sense of rediscovery that felt like sunlight streaming into a darkened room. 

—

As the days and weeks passed, your world gradually came into sharper focus. You began to remember more and more, and your doctors believed that your brain was finally healing from the trauma of the accident, allowing you to access information that had been temporarily locked away. It was as if the fog that had settled over your mind was beginning to lift, and the memories of your life were emerging from the shadows.

With each passing day, you started seeing people more. The familiarity of their faces and the warmth of their presence became less overwhelming and more comforting. You remembered small bits of Noah, moving in with Emily, a few girls’ nights, and coffee dates with Penelope. Each memory was like a small gift, a piece of the puzzle that was slowly coming together.

Whenever you shared a memory with someone, it was met with tears of joy and hugs of relief. They were all so patient and understanding, celebrating every little moment of rediscovery with you. It was a testament to the love and support that surrounded you, a constant reminder that you were not alone on this journey.

—

With your birthday approaching, the excitement in the air was palpable. Everyone was thrilled that they would at least get to celebrate with you, even if the memories of past birthdays were still hazy. The anticipation of the party, the chance to be surrounded by the people who meant so much to you, filled you with a sense of hope and gratitude.

The only person you couldn’t seem to remember, however, was Spencer. Despite the progress you were making with others, there was an inexplicable block when it came to him. It was as if the memories you shared were trapped behind a door that refused to open, no matter how hard you tried. 

Spencer felt the weight of this exclusion acutely. While everyone else reveled in your regained memories, he remained on the outside, watching as you reconnected with the life you’d once shared. At first, he tried to be patient, understanding that recovery was a complex and unpredictable process. But as time went on and the memories continued to elude you, Spencer began to feel a growing frustration, a simmering resentment that he struggled to contain.

—

The night of your birthday party arrived, and Emily had invited everyone important to you: the BAU team, Noah, your unit chief, and colleagues. The apartment was filled with laughter and music, the air buzzing with the joy of celebration. You moved through the crowd, receiving hugs and well-wishes, feeling more like yourself than you had in months.

The party was a joyful affair, filled with the warmth of friends and loved ones, each of them eager to share in the celebration of your continued recovery. You spent time with everyone, enjoying the opportunity to catch up and reconnect. 

You found yourself talking to Derek Morgan, recounting a small memory that had surfaced earlier in the day—a humorous moment from a case your units had worked on together. Derek’s laughter echoed through the room, a rich, joyful sound that drew the attention of others nearby. 

Spencer overheard your conversation with Derek and felt the frustration within him build past his boiling point. It was like a dam breaking, all the emotions he had tried to keep in check spilling over into an overwhelming wave. The exclusion, the constant reminder that you remembered everyone but him, finally pushed him to the edge.

Unable to contain his feelings any longer, Spencer stormed past you, his shoulder bumping into yours as he made his way toward the front door. The suddenness of his actions caught you off guard, the usually sweet and gentle Spencer now a storm of emotions.

“Spencer?” you called after him, confused by the abruptness of his departure. You quickly excused yourself from Derek and followed Spencer, determined to understand what had upset him.

You found Spencer in the hallway of the building, his back turned to you as he tried to compose himself. But when he turned around, you saw the angry tears in his eyes, the hurt etched across his features. It was a side of Spencer you hadn’t seen before, and it unsettled you.

“Spencer, what’s wrong?” you asked, your voice gentle but firm, wanting to understand the source of his pain.

He took a deep breath, his emotions churning within him. The question felt like a catalyst, igniting the frustration and hurt he had been holding onto for so long. And then, finally, he exploded, the words tumbling out in a torrent of anger and anguish.

“Why, Y/N?” Spencer’s voice was raw, filled with desperation and resentment. “Why do you remember everyone but me? Do you secretly remember me but don’t know how to break it off, so you keep pretending you don’t know me?”

His accusation hung in the air, sharp and cutting. It was a blow that took your breath away, the depth of his pain evident in every word. Spencer’s eyes bore into yours, searching for answers, for some explanation that could make sense of the exclusion he felt so deeply.

“I’m not pretending, Spencer,” you replied, your voice barely above a whisper, the shock of his words settling over you like a heavy fog. “I wish I could remember. I want to remember you more than anything.”

Spencer’s expression shifted, hurt and frustration warring within him. He turned away, running a hand through his hair as he tried to gather his thoughts. “It just feels like... like I’m the only one left out,” he said, his voice cracking with emotion. “I watch you remember all these moments, all these people, and I keep hoping that one day you’ll look at me and just... know.”

His words hung in the air, each syllable a reminder of the distance that had grown between you—a distance neither of you wanted, but couldn’t seem to bridge. It was like standing on opposite sides of a vast chasm, reaching for one another but never quite able to touch.

“You think this is easy for me?” you shot back, your voice rising with each word. “Do you think I wanted to get hit by a semi and lose my memories? No! I want it all back, I want my life back.” You took a step closer, the intensity of your emotions propelling you forward. “Do you know how much it kills me that you know a version of me that I don’t? You want her back, and so do I, but Jesus Christ, Spencer! I’m not her, I can’t just be her, I’m fucking trying, okay?”

The hallway seemed to close in around you as you stood there, the weight of your words hanging heavy between you. Spencer’s eyes widened in surprise at the raw honesty in your voice, the depth of your struggle laid bare before him.

“I know you’re trying,” Spencer said, his voice softening even as his frustration simmered beneath the surface. “But it’s so hard to watch you remember everyone else and not me. It feels like I’m losing you all over again, every single day.”

"I’m losing myself too!” you replied, your voice breaking with emotion. “Every time I remember something, it’s like I’m meeting a stranger who’s supposed to be me. It’s terrifying, and I don’t know how to make it better. And it doesn’t help when I’m constantly reminded that you’re disappointed in me too.”

Spencer ran a hand over his face, his own anger and hurt warring with the compassion he still felt for you. He wanted to say the right thing, but his emotions were tangled, pulling him in different directions. The frustration that had built up over the weeks finally met the compassion he still felt for you.

“I’m sorry,” he said, the fight leaving his voice as he took a step back, trying to regain control. His eyes softened as he looked at you, the anger giving way to vulnerability. “I know it’s not fair to put this on you. God, I’m not disappointed in you, I’m just... I’m scared, Y/N. I’m scared that I’ll never get you back.”

The vulnerability in his words pierced through your own defenses, the rawness of his confession echoing the fears that had plagued you both. It was as if the anger that had fueled the argument had stripped away the layers, leaving only the truth of your shared fears and insecurities.

You sighed, your own anger giving way to a wave of exhaustion and sadness. The argument had drained you both, leaving behind a hollow ache that you couldn’t ignore. “I’m scared too,” you admitted, your voice trembling as you spoke. “I’m scared that I’ll never be able to remember the love we had, that I’ll never be able to be the person you fell in love with.”

Spencer's eyes met yours, and you could see the struggle within him—the longing to reach out and bridge the gap between you, the desire to hold onto the love that had once been so strong and certain. “You’re still the person I fell in love with,” he said softly, his voice tinged with desperation. “I know it’s hard to see right now, but you are. And I don’t want to lose you, even if it means starting over.”

His words hung in the air, a lifeline thrown across the chasm that had opened between you. You took a deep breath, the weight of his words. 

“Can I ask you something?” Spencer spoke up, his voice laced with vulnerability. His eyes held yours, searching for an answer he seemed afraid to hear but needed to know nonetheless.

“Of course,” you replied, curious about what was weighing so heavily on him. You wanted to reassure him, to offer some comfort amid the storm of emotions that had engulfed you both.

“Do you find me attractive?” Spencer’s question was simple, yet it held a complexity of emotions—self-doubt, insecurity, a desire for reassurance.

“Spencer… what?” you asked, taken aback by the suddenness of his inquiry. You hadn’t expected that question, and yet, as you looked at him, you realized how important your answer would be.

He shifted his weight, his gaze dropping for a moment before returning to yours, the raw honesty in his expression clear as day. “Do you think that I am attractive? Even now, that you don’t remember me?”

You considered his question carefully. Spencer was undeniably an attractive person—his features were striking, with a gentle kindness in his eyes and a quiet strength in his posture. There was an undeniable allure to him, a magnetic pull that you felt even in your current state of confusion. 

You imagined seeing him in a bar or a crowded room, where his presence would stand out, where you would undoubtedly look twice. His intelligence, the way he carried himself with quiet confidence, and the kindness in his eyes were all qualities that would draw you in.

“Yes,” you replied honestly, your voice steady and sincere. “Yes, Spencer, I find you attractive.”

Spencer let out a small breath he seemed to have been holding, his shoulders relaxing slightly as he absorbed your answer. There was a flicker of relief in his eyes, a subtle shift that spoke volumes about how much your opinion mattered to him.

“Thank you,” he said softly, his voice a blend of gratitude and something deeper, something that felt like hope.

You took a step closer, wanting to close the distance between you. “Spencer, it’s not just about looks,” you added, wanting to make him understand. “I may not remember everything, but I can see the person you are. The way you care, the way you’ve been so patient with me… that’s what makes you truly attractive.”

His lips curved into a tentative smile, the tension in his features easing as your words reached him. It was a smile that held the promise of new beginnings, a shared understanding that even in the absence of memory, there was a foundation upon which you could rebuild.

Spencer nodded, a small chuckle escaping him as he rubbed the back of his neck, a gesture you found endearing. “I guess I just needed to hear it,” he admitted, his vulnerability laid bare in that moment.

You nodded, reaching out to take his hand in yours. “We’ll figure it out,” you said, your voice filled with determination.

Spencer's fingers intertwined with yours, his touch gentle yet reassuring. The simple act of holding hands felt like a small victory, a step toward rebuilding the connection that had been so abruptly severed.

“You couldn’t possibly remember this,” Spencer said with a wry smile, “but I don’t usually touch people’s hands. It’s actually safer to kiss; fewer germs are spread that way.”

You let out a laugh, the tension between you dissolving into a moment of lightness. It was the first genuine laugh you'd shared since the accident, and it felt like a breath of fresh air. 

“I can’t tell if you’re joking or not,” you replied, raising an eyebrow with a teasing grin. “But if that’s a line, it’s not working.”

Spencer chuckled, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “It’s not a line, I promise,” he said, a hint of mischief in his tone. “Just one of those strange facts about me you’ll probably hear more about as you get to know me again.”

“Good to know,” you said, your smile softening into something more sincere. “But for now, hand-holding is just fine.”

—

The rest of the evening passed in a blur of laughter and joy, a celebration not just of your birthday but of the progress you had made and the hope that lay ahead. Surrounded by friends and loved ones, you felt a sense of belonging, a reminder that even in the midst of adversity, there was a community that held you close.

As the night drew to a close, you and Spencer stood together on the balcony, the city lights twinkling in the distance like stars. It was a moment of quiet reflection, a chance to breathe and appreciate the small victories that had brought you to this point.

“Happy birthday, Y/N,” Spencer said softly, his voice carrying a warmth that resonated deep within you. 

You turned to him, your heart full of gratitude and the promise of what was to come. “Thank you, Spencer,” you replied, your words laced with sincerity.

—

“Y/N! Spencer is here for you!” Emily called out from the living room, her voice carrying through the apartment with an excited lilt that made you smile.

You were in your bedroom, putting the finishing touches on your outfit, excitement and nervousness fluttering in your stomach. Today marked your fifth date with Spencer, a milestone that felt both exhilarating and significant as the two of you continued to rebuild your relationship from the ground up.

The past few weeks had been a journey of rediscovery. You and Spencer had taken it slow, giving each other the space and time needed to navigate the complexities of your situation. Each date had been a new beginning, a chance to learn about each other all over again, and it had been going well—better than you had dared to hope.

You’d spent hours talking about everything and nothing, sharing stories and memories that both filled in the gaps and created new ones. There were still moments of hesitation and uncertainty, but they were gradually being replaced by laughter and warmth, a growing sense of familiarity that felt like home.

Taking one last look in the mirror, you adjusted your necklace and took a deep breath, feeling a thrill of anticipation for the evening ahead. You made your way to the living room, where Emily was chatting with Spencer, her eyes lighting up with the kind of mischief only a big sister could muster.

“Hey, Spencer,” you greeted him with a smile, feeling the familiar flutter in your chest that had become a welcome sensation. “Ready to go?”

Spencer turned toward you, his face breaking into a warm smile that made your heart skip a beat. He looked dapper in a casual blazer and slacks, an outfit that struck the perfect balance between relaxed and stylish.

“Wow, you look amazing,” he said, his eyes filled with admiration as he took in your appearance. "If I had known you were going to look this stunning, I would have worn my best suit."

You laughed, feeling a blush creep up your cheeks. "Oh, please, you look great," you replied, meeting his gaze with a teasing grin. “Besides, I think we match perfectly. You know, two fashion icons taking on the city."

Emily watched the exchange with a satisfied smile, clearly pleased to see the chemistry between you and Spencer reigniting. She gave you a playful nudge, her eyes sparkling with encouragement. “Have fun, you two,” she said, ushering you toward the door. “And don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

You laughed, rolling your eyes at Emily’s antics, before turning back to Spencer. “Shall we?” you asked, extending your hand toward him.

Spencer took your hand, giving it a gentle squeeze that sent a reassuring pulse of connection between you. “We shall,” he replied with a grin, leading you out the door and into the evening that awaited.

—

The drive was filled with easy conversation, the kind that flowed naturally and effortlessly between you. You chatted about everything from work to your favorite TV shows, reveling in the comfort of each other’s company.

“So, where are we going tonight?” you asked, curious about the plans Spencer had made for your date.

“It’s a surprise,” he said cryptically, a teasing smile playing on his lips. “But I think you’re going to love it.”

“Really?” you said, raising an eyebrow with a playful smirk. “Are you sure it’s not just another one of your ploys to impress me?”

Spencer chuckled, his eyes sparkling with amusement. “Would it be working if it was?”

“You’ll have to wait and see,” you teased, giving him a flirtatious glance as the car continued through the city.

Eventually, you arrived at a charming little restaurant tucked away in a quiet corner of the city. It was the kind of place that exuded warmth and intimacy, the cozy ambiance inviting you in as soon as you stepped through the door.

“Wow, this place is lovely,” you said, taking in the dim lighting, the soft music playing in the background, and the delicious aroma of Italian cuisine wafting through the air.

Spencer smiled, clearly pleased with your reaction. “I thought it might be a nice spot for us to relax and enjoy some good food,” he said, leading you to a table by the window that offered a view of the city lights twinkling in the distance.

“So, any more memories come back recently?” Spencer asked gently, his tone curious yet considerate, as if he knew the subject was still delicate.

You nodded, feeling a flicker of excitement as you recounted some of the fragments that had returned. “I remembered a trip I took with Emily last year to the beach. We ended up getting caught in a rainstorm and had to take cover in this little café, where we spent the afternoon playing board games. It was such a fun day.”

Spencer listened intently, a smile tugging at his lips as you spoke. “That sounds amazing,” he said, his eyes filled with warmth and understanding. “You know, we had a similar rainy day adventure once. It involved an umbrella, a very wet cat, and an impromptu rendition of Singin’ in the Rain in a park.”

“Did we now?” you replied, a playful twinkle in your eyes. “Are you sure you weren’t just trying to get me to fall for your charming rendition of a classic?”

“Guilty as charged,” Spencer admitted with a laugh, his gaze meeting yours with a sincerity that made your heart flutter.

“Tell me, though, did we kiss in the rain?” you asked, wiggling your eyebrows suggestively.

Spencer blushed, a charming pink spreading across his cheeks. “We might have…”

“How scandalous!” you replied, feigning shock, but the playful glint in your eyes gave you away.

“You were the one who initiated it!” Spencer shot back, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

“Oh yeah, am I just supposed to believe you?” you teased, leaning back in your chair with a smirk. “You could be making it all up just to impress me.”

“Well,” Spencer said, a hint of mischief in his voice, “it is supposed to rain later. We could test out the theory.”

“Spencer Reid, you dog!” you exclaimed, laughing at the thought of dancing in the rain with him.

You shared a laugh, the sound mingling with the gentle hum of the restaurant around you. It felt like the world had faded away, leaving just the two of you in your little bubble of happiness.

—

After dinner, you and Spencer strolled through a scenic path in the park, hand in hand. The night was pleasantly cool, and the stars dotted the sky like scattered jewels. The conversation between you flowed effortlessly, a blend of teasing and genuine connection that made the evening feel special.

“I thought it was supposed to rain?” you mused aloud, glancing up at the sky.

“Are you disappointed it’s not?” Spencer asked, a playful edge in his voice as he followed your gaze.

“Are you going to kiss me anyway?” you replied with a teasing smile, looking up at him with hopeful eyes.

Spencer froze up for a moment, caught off guard by the boldness of your question. A myriad of thoughts raced through his mind, each one tangling with the next. 

He had been nervous to make any moves on you ever since you’d started dating again. What if you didn’t like how he kissed anymore? Or his scent, or taste? What if you two didn't have rhythm anymore? The fear of these possibilities had kept him in check, cautious and tentative.

“What’s going on in that big brain?” you asked, your voice gentle and full of curiosity. You squeezed his hand, bringing him back to the present. Your touch was reassuring, a reminder that the connection between you was as strong as ever.

Spencer shook his head slightly, chuckling at himself. “Just... overthinking, as usual,” he admitted, meeting your eyes with a sheepish grin. “I’ve just been worried that maybe things aren’t the same between us.”

You tilted your head, regarding him with a soft smile. “Spencer, nothing about you could ever disappoint me. We might be rebuilding things, but I think that’s what makes it exciting. We get to discover everything all over again.”

He nodded, his apprehension slowly melting away as your words resonated with him. The sincerity in your voice was like a balm, soothing the insecurities that had plagued him.

“And besides,” you added with a playful twinkle in your eye, “I think we both know we’ve still got that spark.”

Spencer laughed, his tension finally breaking as he took a step closer. The warmth of your presence enveloped him, and he realized how much he had missed these moments with you—the teasing, the laughter, and the unspoken bond that seemed to transcend the gap of memory.

“You’re right,” Spencer said, his voice softening as he gazed into your eyes. “I’d be more than happy to kiss you, rain or no rain.”

You smiled up at him, your heart fluttering with anticipation. As he leaned in, the world around you seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you beneath the starlit sky.

When Spencer’s lips met yours, it was like coming home. The kiss was gentle at first, a tentative exploration of the familiar territory that quickly blossomed into something deeper. His lips were soft and warm, and the familiar scent of his skin surrounded you like a comforting embrace. 

All the previous worries melted away as you found your rhythm together, the familiarity and connection more than you could have hoped for. Spencer’s kiss was tender but charged with an intensity that made your heart race, a reminder of the passion and warmth that had always been at the core of your relationship.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer, feeling the subtle tension in his muscles beneath your fingertips. Spencer responded in kind, his hands finding their place on your face, drawing you into him as if he was afraid to let go. 

The kiss deepened, and it was as if time had stopped, the world around you fading away until only the two of you remained. Lips slotted together perfectly, tongues gliding in a slow, sensual dance that sent shivers down your spine. 

You felt Spencer’s teeth gently nipping at your bottom lip, a playful gesture that made you gasp softly against his mouth. The small sound seemed to spur him on, and you could feel the gentle pressure of his hands pulling you even closer, until there was no space left between you. 

In that moment, everything felt right—the way his lips moved against yours, the warmth of his touch, and the gentle thrum of your heartbeat syncing with his. It was a moment of pure connection, a dance of lips and breath and emotion that left you both feeling dizzy and alive. 

You could feel the tension and uncertainty of the past few weeks melting away, replaced by a deep sense of belonging and peace. As you finally pulled back, you looked into Spencer’s eyes, seeing your own emotions reflected back at you—the warmth, the longing, the hope that you both shared.

When you finally pulled apart, both of you were breathless but smiling, the shared moment leaving a lingering warmth that seemed to wrap around you both.

“Wow,” you murmured, gazing up at Spencer with a soft, genuine smile. “That was... perfect.”

Spencer chuckled, relief and joy evident in his eyes. “I’d say it was pretty amazing,” he agreed, still holding you close.

You both lingered there for a while, savoring the quiet intimacy of the moment, the cool breeze whispering through the trees, the world feeling just a little bit brighter.

—

As you continued your stroll through the park, the clouds did open up, and the rain did come, soaking both you and Spencer. The unexpected shower was a sudden thrill, droplets of water cascading down your hair and cheeks, drenching your clothes in moments. The rain brought a fresh, invigorating scent to the air, wrapping around you like a cool embrace as you and Spencer burst into laughter.

“You said you wanted rain,” Spencer quipped, looking at you with a playful glint in his eye, water droplets clinging to his hair and eyelashes.

“I did, didn’t I?” you giggled, brushing a lock of wet hair out of your face. You both sprinted toward his car, shoes splashing through puddles, the sound of your laughter mingling with the rhythm of the rain.

You reached the car, breathless and exhilarated, climbing inside and closing the door behind you. The heated air enveloped you both in a welcome warmth, and you shivered slightly, feeling the chill of your soaked clothes. 

Spencer turned on the car’s heater, and soon the air filled with warmth, contrasting the rain still pelting the car roof outside. You shared a look of amusement, the shared adventure bringing a delightful sense of connection.

“I don’t want to go home, but I’m uncomfortable,” you admitted, glancing down at your soaked clothes with a bemused smile. 

“We could… go back to our—my apartment and change. Maybe watch a movie?” Spencer suggested, his voice soft and inviting, a hint of hesitation in his words as if worried you might say no.

You met his eyes, the warmth in them offering reassurance. “I’d love that,” you replied, your heart fluttering with the anticipation of spending more time with him.

—

Spencer drove you both back to the apartment, the windshield wipers swishing rhythmically as the rain continued its steady drumming against the car. It was your first time returning to the apartment since the night you’d cried there, overwhelmed by the weight of memories you couldn’t quite grasp. But now, the thought of revisiting felt different, less daunting and more like a step forward.

As you entered the apartment, you paused to take it all in again—the familiar scent, the little touches that made the space feel like home. Spencer watched you with a gentle smile, allowing you to explore at your own pace, offering silent support as you reacquainted yourself with the surroundings.

“Do you want to take a shower?” Spencer asked, breaking the comfortable silence. “All of your stuff is still in there.”

“Um, sure. Thank you,” you replied, grateful for the chance to shake off the chill of the rain.

You made your way to the bathroom, feeling a sense of nostalgia as you stepped inside and closed the door behind you. The shower was just as you remembered it, a familiar haven of warmth and comfort.

The water was soothing as it cascaded over you, washing away the rain and the lingering remnants of the day’s adventure. You felt a sense of relaxation settling in, a quiet moment of peace as you let the warmth envelop you.

But then, as you turned too quickly, your foot slipped, and you fell onto your tailbone with a startled yelp. 

“Ow!” you exclaimed, wincing at the sudden jolt of pain.

“Y/N?? Are you okay?” Spencer’s voice called out from the other side of the door, filled with concern.

“Yeah! I just fell,” you called back, trying to keep your tone light despite the embarrassment.

“I’m coming in,” Spencer announced, the worry evident in his voice.

“Wait, Spencer, no—” you began, but he was already in the bathroom, eyes wide as he took in the scene.

He saw your naked form on the ground of the tub through the clear glass, his expression filled with worry and, perhaps, just a touch of awkwardness.

“Spencer!” you exclaimed, your cheeks flushing with embarrassment and amusement.

“What happened? Are you hurt? Did you hit your head?” he asked, his concern overriding any sense of propriety.

“I’m fine, I’m naked!” you replied, laughing at the absurdity of the situation even as you tried to cover yourself.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Spencer said, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips. “I forget. I’ve seen you naked many times.”

“That is so weird,” you teased, rolling your eyes playfully.

Spencer laughed lightly, his eyes twinkling with warmth. “I don’t think so,” he said, his voice softening into something more tender.

“Can I see you then? Even it out?” you asked, a mischievous grin spreading across your face.

“What?” Spencer’s eyes widened slightly, his cheeks flushing a delightful shade of pink.

“I’ve seen you naked before, right?” you continued, your playful tone belying the genuine affection in your gaze.

“Well, yes, but it’s different,” Spencer stammered, trying to maintain his composure.

“So it’s okay for you to see me, but not for me to see you?” you challenged, a teasing lilt in your voice. “Come get in the shower and help me up.”

Spencer hesitated for a moment, then his expression softened into a smile, affection and delight playing across his features. “Alright,” he said, his voice filled with laughter. “Just this once.”

He quickly shed his clothes and joined you in the shower, his presence a comforting warmth amid the steam and water. With a gentle touch, he helped you up, his hands steady and reassuring as he held you close.

“Thank you,” you said softly, meeting his eyes with a smile. 

Spencer’s gaze was warm and tender, his hands lingering on your waist as he smiled back at you. “Anytime,” he replied, his voice a gentle promise. 

Your eyes couldn’t help themselves as they wandered downward, taking in the sight of him. The realization that you were both standing there, unashamedly bare, brought a new kind of awareness that was both amusing and endearing.

“Y/N!” Spencer laughed. “Eyes up here.”

“I'm sorry,” you said with a playful smirk, your eyes darting back up to meet his. “It’s human nature, after all.”

“I know,” Spencer replied, shaking his head with a chuckle. “But at least pretend to be subtle.”

“You’re quite large,” you teased, unable to resist the opportunity to keep the mood light. “Are you a grower still? Or always a shower?”

Spencer’s cheeks flushed a deep red, his hands instinctively moving to cover himself as he groaned, “Oh my godddd.”

“Answer the question, and I’ll shut up,” you promised, a sweet smile playing on your lips as you looked at him with mock innocence.

With a sigh of resignation, Spencer removed his hands, his expression a mix of bashfulness and humor. “Still a grower,” he admitted, rolling his eyes good-naturedly.

“Lucky me!” you exclaimed, your tone full of playful triumph.

Spencer shook his head, his laughter infectious as he declared, “Not anymore, this was great. Goodbye!” He made a half-hearted attempt to step out of the shower, clearly feigning an exaggerated exit.

“Not so fast!” you interjected, grabbing his arm and pulling him back gently, your own laughter bubbling up as you did so.

His eyes met yours again, and the playful banter settled into something softer, a mutual understanding that transcended words. The silliness of the moment gave way to a quiet intimacy, the kind that came from truly seeing one another and finding joy in simply being together.

As the water continued to rain down, you and Spencer stood there, wrapped in each other’s presence, feeling a sense of comfort and safety that went beyond the physical. 

You both eventually turned off the water and stepped out of the shower, towels wrapped snugly around you. The steam-filled bathroom felt like a private world where the rest of the day’s worries faded away.

—

Once dried and dressed in cozy clothes, you settled into the living room, the aroma of freshly brewed tea wafting through the air as you curled up on the couch together. The rain had stopped outside, leaving a soft patter of droplets against the windows, the perfect backdrop for a cozy movie night.

Spencer draped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you closer. “So, what’s our viewing pleasure tonight?” he asked, his voice filled with a relaxed contentment.

“I was thinking something classic,” you suggested, snuggling into his side. “Maybe a bit of Casablanca?”

“Casablanca, it is,” Spencer agreed, reaching for the remote with a smile.

As the movie played, you found yourself not only immersed in the storyline but also in the warmth of Spencer’s presence beside you. The shared laughter, the gentle teasing, the comfortable silence—it all felt like home.

—

You don’t remember falling asleep, but when you wake up, you find yourself nestled in the bed, no longer on the couch. The room is softly lit with the early morning sun filtering through the curtains, casting a warm glow over everything. Spencer is still sound asleep next to you, his arms wrapped around you in a protective embrace. His breathing is steady and calm, and you watch him for a moment, feeling a rush of affection for this man who has been so patient and kind through everything.

Wanting to do something kind for him, you slowly and carefully extricate yourself from his embrace, trying not to wake him. You slip out of bed, pulling on his robe as you head to the kitchen to make some coffee, a small gesture of appreciation for the many times he’s been there for you.

As you move about the kitchen, the familiar routine of making coffee brings a sense of comfort. You smile to yourself as you measure out the coffee grounds and water, the rich aroma filling the air. It feels good to be doing something for him, even if it’s just a small gesture.

When Spencer finally wakes up, the smell of freshly brewed coffee lures him from the cocoon of blankets. In his sleep-delirious haze, he doesn’t realize anything has changed, and he instinctively walks into the kitchen, still half-asleep, and wraps his arms around you from behind.

“Morning, Spence,” you say softly, feeling the warmth of his embrace as you continue to stir the coffee.

“Mmm, good morning, baby,” he mumbles into your hair, his voice thick with sleep.

“I made your coffee, just how you like it,” you say with a smile, feeling a sense of satisfaction at the little surprise you’ve prepared for him.

“Black, seven teaspoons of sugar?” he asks, his voice carrying a note of playful suspicion.

“Precisely,” you reply, leaning back to kiss his head where it’s nestled against your neck. You love the way his hair feels soft and slightly tousled from sleep, the familiarity of the moment wrapping around you like a warm embrace.

Spencer hums contentedly, the combination of your affection and the promise of coffee stirring him more fully awake. You hand him a steaming mug, and he takes a grateful sip, savoring the sweet warmth.

“Thought we could call Diana today, check in on her progress,” you suggest casually, remembering the conversations you’ve had about keeping in touch with his mom.

Spencer’s mind is still catching up to the morning, the mention of his mother registering slowly. “Okay, that’s a good id–wait… what?” His eyes widen as he pulls back slightly, looking at you with surprise and hope.

“Diana, babe? Your mom? I haven’t talked to her in a while, and I wanted to see how she was doing,” you say, turning to face him, your own excitement bubbling beneath the surface.

“Y/N, are you messing with me?” Spencer asks, his voice a blend of disbelief and anticipation, as if he’s afraid to hope too much.

“No… Are you okay, Spence?” you ask gently, reaching up to touch his cheek, your thumb brushing lightly over his skin. 

“Spence? My coffee preference? My mom?” Spencer’s eyes search yours, an array of emotions flickering across his face. “What are you not telling me?”

You smile, unable to contain your excitement any longer. “Oh, I woke up this morning with a few memories of our time together.”

Spencer’s eyes widen, his expression shifting from confusion to pure joy. “You remember?” he asks, voice filled with a hopeful wonder that sends a warm thrill through you.

“Bits and pieces,” you admit, nodding as you set your own coffee down on the counter. “It’s like little snapshots coming back, but they’re there. And you were in them.”

His face lights up with a brilliant smile, the kind that makes his eyes crinkle at the corners and sends warmth flooding through you. “That’s amazing, Y/N,” he says, pulling you into a tight embrace, his arms enveloping you completely.

You melt into his hug, feeling the steady beat of his heart against your cheek. It’s a moment of connection and triumph, a small victory in the long journey of reclaiming the life you once shared.

“I’m so happy,” Spencer murmurs, his voice muffled by your hair but no less filled with emotion. “I’ve missed you—every version of you.”

You pull back slightly, meeting his gaze with a smile that mirrors his own. “I’ve missed you too, Spence. I can’t wait to see what else comes back.”

Spencer leaned in, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead. His touch was a gentle reassurance that you were exactly where you were meant to be, a soothing balm to the uncertainty that had lingered since the accident. The warmth of his lips against your skin sent a wave of comfort through you, a reminder that love was a constant, waiting patiently to be remembered.

“I love you,” Spencer murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, filled with sincerity and a gentle vulnerability. “Can I say that now? Is that okay?”

His eyes searched yours, seeking not just permission but a confirmation that the love you once shared was finding its way back, stronger and more resilient than before.

“Only if it’s okay for me to say I love you too,” you replied, your voice soft but filled with the depth of emotion that had grown in your heart. 

The words were a quiet declaration, an acknowledgment of the bond that had endured through the haze of forgotten memories and the challenges of the past. It was a promise of the future you were eager to explore together, a future built on the foundation of love and understanding.

Spencer’s smile widened, his eyes sparkling with a joy that mirrored your own. “Then it’s more than okay,” he said, his voice warm and full of affection.

You both stood there for a moment, wrapped in the quiet intimacy of the morning, the aroma of coffee mingling with the soft light filtering through the kitchen. It was a simple moment, yet it held the weight of everything you had been through together, a testament to the resilience of love and the power of memory.

“Come here,” Spencer said, pulling you into another embrace, his arms wrapping around you with a tenderness that spoke volumes.

You leaned into him, resting your head against his chest, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat a comforting reminder of the life you were rediscovering together. In that embrace, you found not just comfort but a sense of belonging that had been waiting for you to come home to.

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

tag list <333 @dirtytissuebox @yokaimoon @khxna @noelliece @dreamsarebig @sleepey-looney @cocobean16 @placidus @criminalmindssworld @lilu842 @greatoperawombategg @charismatic-writer @fxoxo @hearts4spensco @furrybouquettrash @kathrynlakestone @chaneladdicted @time-himself @mentallyunwellsposts @sapph1re @idefktbh17 @gilwm @reggieswriter @loumouse @spencerreidsreads @i-live-in-spite

[abbyromanoff]

14 DAYS OF KINKMAS MASTERLIST:

DAY 1: YOU’RE BACK, BUT ITS TOO LATE - Emily Prentiss

DAY 2: BETTER THAN HIM - Yelena Belova

DAY 3: VISIONS - Wanda Maximoff

DAY 4: OLDER - Wanda Maximoff

DAY 5: NEVER KNOW - Natasha Romanoff

DAY 6: DESIGNS - Natasha Romanoff

DAY 7: GOLDEN GIRL - Maria Hill

DAY 8: LET ME LOVE YOU - Agatha Harkness

DAY 9: MISTLETOE - Maria Hill

DAY 10: HOAX - Claire Debella

DAY 11: UNFAIR - Carol Danvers

DAY 12: KEEP QUIET - Emily Prentiss

DAY 13: HAPPY HOLIDAYS - Kate Bishop

DAY 14: DOUBLE TROUBLE - CarolValkyrie

[emberfrostlovesloki]

Count the Cost [Emily x Reader]

Photo credits: Left (@lone-nyctophile) Center (@weemsicalweems) Right (@paracosmoon)

Prompt: An unspoken conversation rocks Emily and the reader's relationship when Prentiss gets shot on a case. 

Pairing: Emily x Non-BAU!reader. The reader uses she/her pronouns. 

Category: angst/comfort 

Word Count: 5.1K

Content Warnings:  Use of nicknames [sweetheart, love, etc.] throwing up/nausea, airports, Emily getting shot, not described in detail, hospitals [waiting rooms. IV’s, medical equipment.] brief mention of periods/chronic pain/migraines.

A/N: Hi loves! Here is another fic based on the amazing @imagining-in-the-margins January/February Writing Challenge. The dialog prompt this was based on was “There are a million reasons not to do something.” This is the fourth part of my Emily x Non-BAU!reader series. You can find Part I, Part II, and Part III here (all fics linked). However, you can read this as a standalone. You just need to know that the reader works for a senator. I had fun writing a bit of angst between these two. Of course, I hope I made the ending worth the angst. If you enjoy this fic, likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated! I hope you’re having a great start to your week and thanks for reading.  Love Levi - ❤️

List with all stories 

_y/n_ = your name 

_y/l/n_ = your last name 

_y/f/s_ = yuur favorite senator 

_y/f/c_ = your favorite color 

The tiredness and dryness of _y/n_’s eyes didn’t stop her from keeping them open. There would be no sleep on the small dark cabin airplane tonight. The early morning flight to Kansas had been as unexpected as the call from a number _y/n_ had never seen at 2:47 a.m. At first, _y/n_ had thought it was just spam, but when she listened to the nurse on the other end of the line say he was trying to reach Emily Prentiss’s emergency contact, _y/n_’s stomach dropped like a stone. _y/n_ panicked, hit answer, and with a shaky voice said, “This is _y/n_ _y/l/n_. What’s happened to Emily?” There was a pause as the nurse took a moment to properly identify _y/n_, who was standing up and pacing with worry. Finally, the nurse replied, ‘Miss Prentiss was brought into the hospital about a half hour ago. She’s been shot.” _y/n_ nearly dropped the phone and said, “Shot! Shot where? Is she seriously injured, is there anyone there with her like law enforcement? She has a dangerous job. Someone might be after her. Try to kill her even.” _y/n_ realized that the last question was stupid because, generally, if you shot at someone, you were trying to kill them. But _y/n_’s thoughts were too paranoid and catastrophized to notice more than that. There was a pause that only deepened _y/n_’s fear. Finally, the man on the other end of the line replied, “Miss Prentiss was shot in the shoulder, has remained unconscious, and has lost a significant amount of blood. We aren’t sure about the type of bullet. And we can’t speak about anyone else on the hospital grounds, ma’am. The hospital is aware of Miss Prentiss’s situation.” _y/n_ took that to mean that they knew Em was an FBI agent. At this point, with  _y/n_ knowing that Emily was hurt, potentially significantly, without any idea if she was alone or not, convinced _y/n_ that she should get to the hospital as soon as possible. Even if it meant having to phone bank, raise funds for the campaign, and edit _y/n_’s _y/f/s_ speeches in a hospital waiting room. This was the first time that Emily had been in serious, medical danger since _y/n_ and Prentiss had started dating. Sure, Em had come home once with a few cuts and scraps from a fall or a scrap with an unsub. Fights that Emily always won, it seemed. But this, _y/n_ didn’t know what to do about this, as she threw some clothes into a backpack along with some work stuff. 

_y/n_ sat on the edge of her bed, the room illuminated by a single lamp, as _y/n_ looked for the earliest flight to Topek, Kansas. _y/n_ had at least had the foresight to ask for the name of the hospital from the nurse before saying that she’d be there as soon as possible. It seemed like a miracle that there was a flight leaving for Kansas at 5:00 a.m. that morning. It was a blessing, but the price of the ticket and the circumstances under which _y/n_ had to book them were like a living purgatory or limbo. Time seemed to barely pass. _y/n_ got to the airport, moved through security, and then waited for the plane to land on the tarmac. _y/n_ sent a hasty email to work letting them know that an emergency had come up, but that she’d brought her computer with her and could be accessed through email or her cell after she landed. The flight from D.C. to Kansas was no better for _y/n_’s nerves. _y/n_ had put on her comfiest _y/f/c_ sweater and kept ordering coffee after bland and burnt coffee. The acid taste of the hot liquid left _y/n_ feeling queasy and by the third hour of the flight, she was ready to be on the ground again. That wouldn’t happen for another hour and a half. Once in the Topeka airport, _y/n_ moved to the bathroom and threw up. The nerves and too much caffeine had that effect that made her body reject anything trying to keep it going. It was one of _y/n_ least favorite things about herself. 

Emily had been so worried one day after a very stressful workday when y/n_ had to run to the bathroom and threw up. Em had pulled y/n_’s hair back and then handed her a cool damp towel to run over her face. After _y/n_ had rinsed her mouth and sat back down on the bathroom floor to take a few breaths, Emily sat down across from her in the small space. Prentiss took hold of _y/n_ delicate hands and asked, “What’s wrong, love? Are you sick?” _y/n_ let out a sigh and said, “I’m not sick, sick. This happens pretty often actually. When I get very stressed, it just kind of happens.” Emily nodded and said, “I’m so sorry, sweetheart. That has to be awful.” _y/n_ shrugged and replied, “You get kind of used to it, I guess.” Prentiss squeezed her hand and said, “Well how about we get off these cold tiles and make you a cup of ginger tea to settle your stomach?” _y/n_  nodded and accepted Emiy’s hand up. That was one thing about Em that _y/n_ would never get over, just how caring her girlfriend was. The warm memory washed over _y/n_, and she was reminded that Emily was now in a hospital somewhere, possibly alone. This thought had _y/n_ get up quickly and rinse her mouth in the bathroom sink. _y/n_ grabbed her backpack and moved outside, flagging down a cab. She told the driver the name of the hospital to take her to. The closer they got to the hospital, the more anxious _y/n_ got. She was almost buzzing in her seat. She was also feeling sick with worry, but there was no time for that now. At the hospital, _y/n_ paid the driver and moved into the bright light of the room. 

_y/n_ hadn’t gotten a follow-up call from the place of healing which made _y/n_ assume that Emily hadn’t taken a turn for the worse, but there was still a huge amount of dread as she approached the front desk. The charge nurse looked up at her and said, “How can I help you miss?” _y/n_ wrung her hands together and said, “My name is _y/n_, _y/l/n_. The hospital called me a couple of hours ago about my partner being shot. Emily Prentiss? Is she okay? I came as quickly as I could.” The woman gave her a soft smile and replied, “Let me check with the doctor for a moment. I’ll be right back.” _y/n_ stood and waited. The bright lights in hospitals always put _y/n_ on edge. She was more of a lamp and soft light person. Sometimes, when the lights were bright like these, _y/n_ could hear the electricity above. _y/n_ waited with anticipation when a slightly familiar voice called out, “_y/n_? Is that you?” _y/n_ whipped her head around and saw the bright colors of Penelope Garcia. A flood of relief washed over _y/n_, and she nearly ran to Emily’s team member. Penelope opened her arms and _y/n_ nearly fell into them. Garcia enveloped her in a hug, saying, “Sweetheart, what are you doing here?” _y/n_ felt the panicky feeling bubble up in her and said, “I got a call from the hospital. We’re each other's emergency contacts. It sounded bad so I came right away.” An older man, whom _y/n_ had never seen before said, “I guess y’all haven’t had the talk yet.” _y/n_ lifted her face from Penelope’s shoulder and asked, “What talk?” Garcia let _y/n_ go slightly and turned her toward the man, saying, “_y/n_, meet David Rossi.” Dave gave the young woman a small smile and extended his hand saying, “_y/n_ it’s nice to finally meet you. Emily talks about you all the time.” Rossi didn’t mince his words, as he added, “You make her very happy. I’m sure she’ll be glad to know that you’re here.” _y/n_ nodded, taking his hand in hers. Now that she was here, _y/n_ was beginning to feel better, but there was still the worry, and now _y/n_ had more questions than before. _y/n_ started with the big thing, asking, “Is Emily alright? The charge nurse was just going to check for me.” Rossi let out a sigh and said, “The last we heard the doctor in charge of her care was trying to stabilize her.” _y/n_ nodded and processed the information. The next thing _y/n_ asked, because her head was buzzing with many thoughts, and not all of them were as important as the rest. So _y/n_ just asked, “What’s ‘the talk’ Emily and I were supposed to have had by this point?” 

Before Rossi had a chance to say that was a conversation that should probably happen between Emily and _y/n_, Aaron and the doctor emerged from a hallway that led into the hospital's interior. _y/n_ didn’t recognize either man, but the members of the BAU team present, Rossi, Spencer, and Penelope seemed to. Everyone turned to the two men and waited with bated breath for information. The doctor approached the group and Aaron moved to the left flank of the team. The somber leader of the BAU noticed the new edition to the party immediately but didn’t want to cut off the doctor’s statement. There would be time for questions later. Doctor Smith took a breath before saying, “Miss Prentiss is more stable now. She left a significant amount of blood and the bullet was lodged in her left shoulder. The shot was dangerously close to her carotid artery, thus the excess loss of blood. However, I’ve managed to dislodge the bullet. It was a 9mm soft point bullet. The damage could have been much worse. I gave her a transfusion and stabilized the wound. She should make a full recovery. It will take time but she should be okay if she takes things slow. I’ll let you see her when she wakes in a few hours. I’ve given Miss Prentiss a mild sedative for now.” The doctor walked away to speak to a nurse nearby. The team seemed to instantly relax, but _y/n_ didn’t take the news so well. _y/n_was shocked to hear what Emily had been through, the pain, and the near-death experience of her partner The suddenly relaxed attitude of the team also surprised _y/n_. How the group could suddenly be so calm was beyond her. _y/n_ wanted to say something, but she was cut off by the last man that she didn’t know in the group. By his demeanor and solemnity, _y/n_ had to guess that the man was the leader of the BAU, Agent Aaron Hotchener. _y/n_ was proven right when the tall man said, “Hello. I’m Aaron Hotchner. I assume you’re _y/n_?” _y/n_ nodded and Aaron took on a look of understanding. With a tone that was slightly softer than his normal demanding voice, he said, “Can you give the team a few minutes to talk, alone?” _y/n_ wanted to protest, but then realized that this was all their job, she was just here. Emily was alive, and there wasn’t more she could do here until Em woke up. _y/n_ sat down in an uncomfortable chair. The tiredness seemed to hit her all at once and _y/n_ closed her eyes. She was too far away to hear what the BAU members were saying, but the tone was serious. After the conversation, _y/n_ watched as Spencer and Rossi left the hospital. This left Aaron and Penelope standing in the hallway. _y/n_ watched as Agent Hotchner put a hand on Garcia’s shoulder, said a few words, and then pulled a cell phone from his black slacks and took a call. 

Garcia moved toward _y/n_ and sat next to her. The normally bright and spunky tech wizard held out a hand for _y/n_ to hold and anchor to. _y/n_ took it and sniffled. _y/n_ asked, “I thought you didn’t go on cases, Penelope? At least, that’s what Emily said.” Gacia smiled and replied, “I don’t normally go on cases, no. They needed my tech skills in person on this one. I’m happy Hotch, Aaron, asked me to come because I was able to find Emily in time.” _y/n_ squeezed Penelope’s hand. She knew that Garcia was as upset about what had happened to Em as she was. _y/n_ knew the whole team was, even those not at the hospital. However, Penelope showed that concern more openly. _y/n_, like Garcia wore their heart on her sleeve. _y/n_ looked at the technical analyst and asked, “Can you tell me how you found her? Is the um…” _y/n_ tried to remember the word for unsub, and it clicked. “...unsub been caught yet?” Gacia gave _y/n_ a small sad smile and said, “I can’t tell you, _y/n_. The investigation is still ongoing. I know it’s frustrating, but I can’t say.” _y/n_ nodded in understanding. In some ways, it was annoying but more than anything it was just difficult. Up until that point, Emily’s job had been something exciting to talk about. And _y/n_ did worry about her when she was on a case, but Em had never been seriously wounded while they had been together yet. But now the possibility that Emily could die, could be stripped from _y/n_ forever, every time she stepped out the door to a case, became a possibility. This was a new kind of dread that _y/n_ realized she was going to have to live with. That possibility felt like the discomfort of knowing a period was coming next week. And that menstruation could be better or worse or not happen at all some months, but the possibility was always there. At least until menopause. Or if someone had migraines or other chronic pain. _y/n_ realized how gross and juvenile those comparisons were, but it was the best her brain could come up with at the moment. There was a shift when Aaron came back, the phone still in his hand and pressed to his ear. The tall man walked up to Penelope and said, “Garcia, Morgan has a question for you.” Penelope stood and took the phone from Hotch and moved over to the corner where he had just been standing. The hospital was pretty crowded and the chair Gacia had just vacated was one of the only ones open. Hotch looked down at Emily’s girlfriend. The woman had a look on her face of understanding of what a job at the BAU really meant. Aaron pulled _y/n_ from those thoughts when he asked, “May I sit here?” _y/n_’s eyes snapped to his firm ones, and she said, “Of course, Mr. Hotchner, Agent Hotchner?” _y/n_ strumbled through the possible names to call him. Neither she had tried to work. The man let out a small breath that might have been a laugh as he said, “You can just call me Hotch, or Aaron.” There was a small silence before Aaron said, “It’s nice to meet you, _y/n_. I wish it was under better circumstances than this.” _y/n_ nodded and said, “It’s nice to meet you too, Aaron.” The next half hour was spent making small talk and _y/n_ looking at her hands or the hands of the clock slowly ticking by. As the time moved, the dread returned and Aaron could feel it like a weight on _y/n_’s frame. 

Hotch understood. Not from _y/n_’s point of view, but the other way around. He knew how it felt to leave Haley and Jack and not know if he’d see them again. He knew how those feelings for Haley had been so great that she had to step away. He didn’t blame her for that. It was clearly all new to _y/n_ and he softly said, “It’s not fair.” _y/n_ looked over at him and said in a weary voice, “What do you mean?” Hotch shifted in the chair and sighed very softly before saying, “It’s not fair for the people who stay behind. I can’t speak for Emily, but I know she understands that too.” Feeling slightly defeated by the circumstances and new reality, _y/n_ replied, “I was living in a fantasy world where she never got hurt, and that’s been shattered for me. I know fantasies are silly things and we don’t live in them, but I’m not sure how to deal with this kind of uncertainty.” _y/n_ turned and Aaron, the man Emily had spoken so highly of as the fearless leader of the team, was looking right at her. Not just right at her, but right into her, with an understanding that _y/n_ was unaware was possible. _y/n_ suddenly understood why the man was so respected. Hotch replied, “I think that’s a conversation you should have with Emily. That’s the best advice I can offer you.” It was with that last full conversation they shared before the doctor returned and told them that Emily was up now. They both stood up, and _y/n_ realized that Aaron was going to need to speak to her alone. Emily probably had some information that he needed. Hotch turned and said, already a step ahead of _y/n_, “I’ll make it as quick as possible, _y/n_. You’ll see her soon.” _y/n_ nodded. The anxiety came back to the surface. She spent the next forty-five minutes pacing the waiting room and counting the ceiling tiles. 

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, a nurse came back and led _y/n_ to the back of the hospital. _y/n_ watched from the closed blinds as the shadow of Hotch stood from a chair near the shadow of the bed and the medical equipment. He opened the door and held it open so _y/n_ could slip into the small room. _y/n_ looked at Aaron and they exchanged a brief nonverbal “thank you” with each other. Once the door was closed, all _y/n_ could think of was Emily. _y/n_ rushed into the room and to her bedside. The brunette turned her head to see _y/n_ and tried to fake a smile. _y/n_ saw right through it as she sat down in the chair and took Em’s hands in hers. Prentiss had an IV in her arm and there were multiple monitors attached to her chest. Then there was the large bandage wrapped around Emily’s left shoulder. _y/n_ could see it under the flimsy hospital gown covering Em’s body. _y/n_ took a second to look Prentiss over and then asked, “How are you feeling, please don’t try and make it sound better than it is because, to be honest, you look rough.” Emily let out a shaky breath that _y/n_ knew to be a laugh. The sound could make _y/n_ cry at that moment. _y/n_ did start crying once Em started talking. Her voice was hoarser than usual and it sounded thin, but Prentiss said with sincerity, “Well I’m on a lot of drugs, so I don’t feel anything too much right now. Even with that being the case, my shoulder feels like a mountain either got dropped on it, or something burst out of it like Aliens or something. And there are some scrapes and bruises from when I fell.” _y/n_ nodded along noting how pale Em looked. _y/n_ was amazed that Prentiss could even speak as coherently as she was. It was a reminder that Emily could be tough as nails. However, _y/n_ could see the hints of pain in the corner of Emily’s eyes and the firm line of her mouth. She also looked tired. _y/n_ knew there needed to be some conversation between them to address what had happened with her injuries and _y/n_ being there at the hospital. Prentiss had seemed surprised almost when _y/n_ walked through the door, though it was clear that Aaron had told Em that she was there. Deciding to postpone that conversation for when Emily was a bit stronger, or at least in less pain, _y/n_ said, “Why don’t you rest for a while, Em? I’ll be here when you wake up.” Emily nodded and closed her eyes. The only sounds in the room were the soft beeping of the machines in the room and _y/n_ and Em’s soft breathing while both of them rested. 

An hour or so later the doctor came back and checked on Emily’s vitals and administered another dose of the various medications Em was on. A nurse also raised the head of the bed and promised to bring Emily some food. Once the medical professionals were gone, _y/n_ looked at Emily. They were both slightly refreshed in a way, and with the prospect of food on the way it gave them a timeline of something happening. It was helpful because time in a hospital just seemed to stretch on forever. Lunch provided a definite finite point in space. Both Em and _y/n_ just knew that their conversation was going to at least start before Prentiss’s food arrived. _y/n_ started the dialog by asking the hard question, “Am I not supposed to be here, Em? Is there something I’ve missed? The team seemed very surprised I guess when I showed up.” Emily, with her piercing eyes, looked at _y/n_ and sighed, knowing she couldn’t avoid this talk forever. She replied, “No _y/n_, it’s okay that you’re here. If it wasn’t, Aaron or Rossi would have sent you away by now. It’s just they didn’t expect you. Partners don’t normally come to see an agent until after the case is over.” _y/n_ furrowed her brow and said, “But how would I know that, Em? You never told me that. I just heard that you were hurt, maybe seriously, and I didn’t know if you were alone. How could I not jump to be here with you?” Emily nodded, knowing this wasn’t on _y/n_ and wanting to reassure her. Prentiss said, “_y/n_, you didn’t know because we haven’t had that conversation yet.” _y/n_ bit her lip wondering if this was “the talk” that they hadn’t had yet. _y/n_ released her lip from her mouth and asked uncertainly, “Em we’re almost five months into this relationship, what is this important conversation we haven’t had yet?” 

Em could see that this lack of information was distressing to _y/n_ and Emily said, “The conversation about what happens if I get hurt. If I die doing this job.” _y/n_’s eyes widened and she said, “That seems like a pretty important conversation to have. I mean, we’ve talked about the risks. I just assumed that if the hospital called I should come.” Emily looked at _y/n_ and replied, “It’s not always that easy, _y/n_. Sometimes they can’t tell you. Even if it’s bad. So bad that I might not make it. If the hospital does call, like I said, most people just wait until the case is over, or their partner lets them know.” _y/n_ struggled to process the information and said, “So if the hospital, or you, or Garcia tell me you’re seriously hurt like shot in the arm say, I just have to wait and see what happens? If that’s the norm, why didn’t you tell me that, Em?” Emily listened to the desperation in _y/n_’s voice, at the fear of being left out of such important information. Meanwhile, _y/n_ struggled to comprehend having to just wait and see for something as important as Emily’s life to be had or lost. Finding out that Emily being shot had nearly put _y/n_ into a downward spiral, having to just wait and hear if the love of _y/n_’s life had made it or not at the end of a case seemed unsurmountable. It was asking too much. Em watched these emotions play out on _y/n_’s face, and _y/n_’s expression of what she was being asked was why she had avoided this conversation for so long. Because the reality of what loving an FBI agent entailed often sent people running in another direction. To something or someone more stable. A place where the likelihood of pain and uncertainty was far less. Prentiss swallowed and said, “I let you down, _y/n_. By not telling you this earlier. At how much of a sacrifice this is. I didn’t tell you because I had been so lucky that I hadn’t been hurt before. At least not when I was with you. I suppose I was naive and just hoped my luck would keep going, but it didn’t. I also didn’t tell you because when that conversation happens it forces people to choose whether or not this is something they can take. I was careless with your feelings by not telling you. I just love you so much that I couldn’t think about losing you because of that conversation. I’m sorry, _y/n_. I’m sorry for putting you through this the way I did. What happens from here is up to you, _y/n_. If you don’t think you can take that stress, I understand. You just have to count the cost of if it’s worth being with me and understanding how it works sometimes. Just know that every time I step into the bullpen, or onto the plane, I’m thinking of you. I’m thinking of making the world a safer place for you.” 

Emily realized that she wasn’t letting _y/n_ get a word in edgewise, because she was afraid of what _y/n_ might say or do. But it was up _y/n_ now, and Emily thought that perhaps _y/n_ was going to get up and leave right then and there. It had happened to her once before. _y/n_ sat silently in her chair and closed her eyes wondering if she could take it. _y/n_ did feel like Emily had kept this from her, but it had been out of a fear of losing her. Their relationship flashed through _y/n_’s mind and the love, passion, and warmth filled _y/n_ nearly to the brim. She tried to compare it to the anxiety she had felt and would feel in the future if Emily got hurt again. As painful the uncertainty was, the love outweighed the fear, and _y/n_ looked at Em and said, “There are a million reasons not to do something. A million reasons why you didn’t want to have this talk with me, a million reasons why I could walk away, but I just need one reason to stay, and that’s you, Emily Prentiss. I’m picking you. I’m going to pick you every time. But no more secrets. No more missed conversations. If we’re going to make this work for the long run, which is what I want, then we have to be honest with each other. Even if it’s conversations that are painful.” Em nodded with tears in her eyes as she said, “You’re everything to me _y/n_. I promise to tell you everything. The good and the bad, there won’t be any more surprises. I’ve never met anyone so willing to love me. To choose me over the uncertainty.” _y/n_ leaned in and kissed Em’s hand. She would kiss Em all over if it wouldn’t hurt her. 

Their brief moment of intimacy was interrupted by the nurse bringing in a plate of soft foods for Emily. _y/n_ pulled back, and the woman looked at them for a moment before setting the tray on the bed. The older woman said, “Make sure to use your right hand only. You shouldn’t move your left arm or shoulder at all.” Emily looked at the stern woman and nodded. With that missive, the nurse left them again. _y/n_ watched as Emily attempted to poke at some jello with a spoon unsuccessfully. _y/n_ couldn’t help but chuckle and Em looked at her saying, “Hey, no laughing at me. I’m injured.” _y/n_ fixed her face and said, “Well then let me help you because that jello is fighting for its life right now.” That comment had Em laugh slightly and it felt good to have their dynamic closer to their normal. Em teased, “Hey I’m a big girl. I think I can handle it.” _y/n_ sighed and took the spoon from Prentiss’s hand as _y/n_ said, “Listen, love, you’re the bravest person I know. We just had a brave conversation, now I just need you to be brave enough to let me help you, okay?” Em smiled and gave in saying, “Okay love, and for the record, you’re pretty brave yourself.” Though their relationship had been rocked, momentarily, their foundation was strong, built on trust and love that could endure hard storms and conversations. _y/n_ and Em were affirmed of their love for each other as Em allowed _y/n_ to feed her in an intimate act of caring. 

That evening when Morgan and Penelope moved back to the hospital to check on their teammate, Derek asked, “You really think Prentiss didn’t tell _y/n_ about coming during cases?” Garcia replied, “She couldn’t have, or why else would _y/n_ have shown up here?” Morgan nodded and said, “Well I bet that was a tough conversation.” The pair moved to Emily’s room and stopped. Inside the darkened space, they could see Emily sleeping while holding _y/n_’s hand. _y/n_’s head was resting on the edge of the bed and they both seemed to be at peace. Penelope softly said, “Maybe it wasn’t so hard after all.” Pen let out a sigh and said, “Let’s get a coffee or something, we should let them rest.” Derek agreed, and they let the couple rest and recuperate in the love they had for each other.

______________________________________________________________

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[writersblockedx]

A Rekindled Kind of Love

Pairing - Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader Summary - Spencer and Y/n hadn't talked since the Summer before college and then he sees her name as the only survivor in their latest serial killer case. Warning - violence, drinking Words - 3.6K

A/n - It's be a while! I've had a surge of inspiration lately since becoming a little obsessed with character ai lol and thought to write this one into a little one-shot.

masterlist

Spencer was lying if he ever called any day at the BAU normal. Between serial killers, sadists, and everything else in between, the boy had a blurred definition of normal. So, he expected anything - or so he thought. When he entered the meeting room that morning, he hadn't expected the name of Y/N Y/L/N to pop up.

"We've got three victims and, weirdly, one survivor." Garcia started to explain, clicking through the victim's dead bodies, the woman squirming at just a glance of the photos. "Whoever this sicko is, he's going after journalists. His latest victim, Y/n Y/l/n, was actually able to get away before he had a chance to kill her."

Spencer stopped. His gaze snapped up as Garcia clicked once more and he caught sight of the girl he once knew. Only now was she older, and her expression was stern. The unsub had left her features tainted, early bruises and several cuts littering over her. "She's pretty distraught says doctors, but she's alive and well."

He couldn't stop staring at her, memories of high school, of that last summer, of their blissfully ignorant friendship fueling his feelings. This was not normal. None of what he felt was normal - not for him away. "He stabs them?" Emily observed, all of the team had yet to clock onto the haze Spencer had suddenly found himself in.

Garcia hummed, "Yep, as many times as it takes before they...you know...die."

"He's aggressive, he's got no remorse for these victims," JJ spoke, glancing between her file at the screen in front of her.

"Not only are they all journalists, but they're female journalists too." Rossi added. "There's got to be some reason for that too."

Hotch nodded, "Either way, we should take Y/n into our care. She's the first to get away, I doubt he's happy about that-"

The shaggy-haired boy couldn't seem to take it. The way Y/n had gotten herself mixed in like she was any other victim, like she wasn't once the most important person in Spencer's life. "Excuse me," The boy stood abruptly, not giving any reasoning to the team before he practically ran out, gasping for breath.

The team were left with nothing. Their expressions moulding into ones of confusion, and puzzlement, "What's up with him?" Morgan was the first to question. But it was only met with the same uncertain expressions and a shrug from Hotch.

Morgan took it upon himself to stand, following Spencer out into the adjacent hallway where Spencer was panic pacing. A hand swooped through his hair as his thoughts raced. "Hey, kid, slow down," Morgan soothed. He hadn't realised the arrival of Derek until he spoke. Spencer turned, swallowing the lump which had since grown in his throat. "The hells going on with you?"

He took a breath. He evened his lungs and took a moment before confiding, "I- erm- I know her, Y/n Y/l/n, the survivor." He explained and that was enough for Morgan to understand. "Well, I suppose I knew her, we lost contact when we went to college, but we had been friends."

Morgan gazed back into the meeting room, "Reid, it's okay. She's okay, you know? She survived."

His head shook, "It doesn't matter. You heard Hotch, she's still a target." She wasn't safe and that fact was only nagging at Spencer.

"Alright, alright, how about I talk to Hotch? We'll go to the hospital, you make sure she's okay yourself?" Reid had barely agreed before Morgan walked back into that meeting room.

Of course, he wanted to make sure she was okay. But that also meant seeing her, after all these years. Spencer didn't know what had changed - if anything had. And he didn't know which option was scarier. Either way, he soon found himself at the hospital, waiting at the reception desk as a doctor went to find her.

His feet were tapping, his nerves obvious to Morgan. "Reid, calm down, she's gonna be alright," He said, but no words from Morgan or a doctor was going to help. He needed to see her.

"It's not just that I'm worried about." What if everything had changed? What if nothing had? What if-

He turned and found his eyes on her. She still had that same look. That same smile, the same soft gaze, the same ease about her that Spencer craved. But this was the very moment he feared.

She wandered up to him, quickening her pace as much as she was able to considering her state. "Spencer," She said his name like a sigh of relief. Before he realised it, her arms were wrapped around his neck, melting into his touch as if no time had passed.

"Hi," He breathed into her ear; she was safe. The hug didn't last long enough. How could it? They had 12 years of missed hugs.

"I can't believe you're here, the doctor said a profiler and then said it was Doctor Reid and I-" She trailed on, "I don't know why I was so surprised. Of course, you made it big."

Spencer shrugged, "I wouldn't call this big." The boy became sheepish, almost flushed and Derek Morgan had certainly taken notice. "I'm sorry I stopped calling and I should have-"

"Oh, Spence, save it," She chuckled lightly, "I could have picked up that phone just as well as you had. I just wish we could have met under different circumstances."

He nodded, "Yeah, well about that," Spencer turned to bring Derek into the conversation, "This is Agent Morgan, he's erm gonna help."

Morgan sent his usual cheeky smirk as he did with any pretty lady, "It's good to meet you, sweetheart. Glad to hear you're feeling better too."

Spencer hadn't expected anything less from the man. "Look, I don't know if the doctor explained it to you, but we're under the belief that this unsub may still be targeting you."

"Unsub?" She reiterated.

"The killer that went after you." Morgan answered, "Unknown subject, unsub for short."

"We erm- we have to take you in, make sure you're safe kind of thing," Spencer explained, fidgeting with his fingers as she glanced between them and the girl in front of her.

Her pupils grew worrisome, "You think I'm still in danger?"

Spencer hated that word. Even the thought of Y/n in danger made his spine shiver. "You're the first to get away, we erm- we don't think he'll be very happy about it. He could lash out, many unsubs, new unsubs especially, a victim getting away could be like a double stressor, he could be on a rampage, he could be doing nothing but think about getting to you." He realised he was rambling and his words were only worrying the girl more, "Sorry, I just, I want to make sure you're safe."

But Y/n understood, "It's alright, Spence. I'll go grab my things."

With that, a rush filled the girl as she turned her back on the two agents, wandering back into the hospital room she had come from. Spencer's eyes hadn't left from where her figure was once standing. This was personal for him - even if he hadn't seen the girl for years now. "She's not just someone from high school, is she?" Morgan realised as he observed Spencer.

He turned to him as if he had just left the trail of thoughts in his mind, "Hm?" He turned back to look at Morgan.

His response had only made Morgan smile, "Y/n, she seems more to you than that."

"It was..." The boy thought back to it, to that Summer, he didn't know how else to describe it, what they had, her. "Complicated."

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

12 Years Prior, Las Vegas

Y/n always had something Spener didn't: Popularity. Well, in a way. Spencer was cast away from many of his peers. A social reject. While, Y/n was a social butterfly of sorts. She took to a crowd with ease. The type of girl that could make friends with anyone.

The boy had certainly hit the jackpot when he was assigned to tutor her. Over the course of several sessions, they had bonded over literature, future college plans and, surprisingly, Y/n's distaste to certain 'jocks' - as the social hierarchy liked to describe them as.

She was the only reason Spencer turned up to the end of year house party. Crowds weren't his thing, drinking neither. But she...she was worth it.

"Spencer!" The girl gleamed as he wandered into the house. 

He didn't belong at all. His shoulders were stiff, his glasses at the edge of his nose. But, despite such, Y/n still took him into a longing hug. "H- Hi." He greeted, his eyes flickering all over the place. From the demolished kitchen to the living room where drunken teens were dancing on top of couches and coffee tables.

Her brow raised, "Come on, we'll get you a drink." Her hand slipped into his, bringing the boy back to his attention: her. "You do drink right?" She checked as she guided him towards said demolished kitchen.

"Erm, not a heavy drinker but, sure I can have one."

"You sure?" She spoke ever so softly, "You know you don't have to."

"Just one." He offered her a smile.

She grasped a few bottles: vodka, rum, tequila. "Pick your poison."

Spencer had simply shrugged, a chuckle at the tip of his tongue, "I'll have whatever you're having."

"Rum it is!"

She poured the two the same drink - almost half liquor, half mixer. Spencer coughed when he swallowed, causing the girl to giggle, "Too much?"

But Spencer simply shook his head, "Just perfect," He almost joked as he leaned onto the kitchen counter next to the girl, "I almost didn't come," He admitted.

"I don't blame you," He gazed down at her answer, his expression urging her to add some context. "Ashley James puked up after two drinks, Kacy and Liam broke up, now Liam's making out with Polly. It's just...a mess." Her eyes rolled. "But then again, what was I expecting?"

Spencer smiled at her. She was good at knowing like everything. While he was filled with facts and statistics, Y/n knew everything about everyone. Within one look, she knew your secrets. Maybe that's why she was so good with people. "We can go somewhere else if you want?" He suggested.

His question brought along an idea for the girl. With her free hand, she took Spencer's and led him out into the back garden. Whoever lived here was almost rich. Well, rich enough for a pool and a pretty big outdoor area. "Come on," Y/n urged him as she pulled the boy towards the edge of the pool.

She slipped her shoes off, sitting down and letting her legs dangle into the fresh water. Spencer watched her for a moment before joining her, the two sipping on their drinks. "Better?" She asked him.

He nodded, "Much."

"At least we've got Summer now, no more being forced to see them assholes." She joked.

Spencer's brows narrowed in thought, "You mean the assholes that you were friends with until you met me?"

"Well you got me there, Spence." She shrugged, "Social survival, that's what I call it. It's not as if there won't be similar people in college. I mean, fucking sororities, semi-pro football leagues, frats?"

"I'm sure you'll fit in amazingly at Princeton." His smile seemed to falter at his own words.

She gazed at the boy who seemed captivated by the slowly swaying water below them, "We'll still call you know, text, just cause we're in different places, doesn't mean anything, Spencer." Y/n attempted to comfort him.

"That's what everyone says but, I don't know." He shook his head, ignoring a thought.

But she noticed it; she noticed everything, "But what?"

He huffed and stared over at her, his eyes pooling in admiration. "You're one of the best things to have happened to me in a long time you know," He offered her a smile, "I couldn't even imagine losing you."

The girl bit her lip. Something was on her mind and Spencer had noticed. He too noticed everything about her. But he didn't ask. Partly, because he didn't have the chance to. Her eyes flickered to his lips. Then to his eyes. And before Spencer could realise, she had leant in, her lips at his. Without even realising, she had changed everything for the boy.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

Spencer accompanied the woman towards a private, interview room. He would offer support and comfort but at the same time, he had a job to do. A part of that was questioning. She was the only person to know this unsub. As difficult as it would be for her, he would have to ask them questions.

"Hey," Emily spoke as he entered the room, two coffees in hand: one for Spencer and one for Y/n. "Coffee orders are here," She smiled as she placed them at the table between the two. "I'm Emily, Reid says you're an old friend."

Her eyes flickered to the man before she shook Emily's hand, "Something like that yeah."

"Well, we're here if you need anything, alright?" She said, "You're in good hands here, especially with our Doctor Reid."

With that, Emily left to join the rest of the team who were busy compiling a profile. Which left her and Spencer. This was the part he wasn't looking forward to. "I've erm, I've got to ask you some questions, it'll help us understand this unsub, help us find him." He explained. When she nodded, the boy continued, "I'm going to ask you to close your eyes, alright? And then I'm just going to go through the night you were attacked. Is that okay?"

She swallowed the lump which had grown in her throat, "Yeah," She muttered.

Y/n followed the instructions and let her eyelids close before Spencer started the exercise, "Okay, just go back to that night. You were on 9th Street, correct?"

"Yes."

"It was getting late, but it was summer, think about the air, was it still warm? What sort of things could hear, anything?"

She thought back to it. Y/n had just finished her work week, she was walking home from the Subway. "There's a group of girls on the other side of the road, they're giggling. Drunk, I assume."

"That's good, that's really good." Spencer praised, "Then when did you realise something was off?"

Her brows furrowed and she thought about it, the pit in her stomach growing, "Someone- someone was yelling. A man. I thought he was like bible bashing so I wasn't paying much attention to what he was saying."

"Think." Spencer jumped in, "Listen to him, pick any words, any phrases that stick out to you."

And she did so. Her mind ran through the memory, "Something, something about an agenda, the- the snowflake agenda? It's ruining America it's-" She cut herself off as the memory reached the worst part. "That's when he grabbed me." Her voice quickened, her breaths soon becoming uneven. "He had a knife to my neck- he pulled me to an ally. I- Spencer."

Her hand reached out over the table instinctively, "It's okay," He too had become panicked just seeing her's. "I'm here, it's over, you can open your eyes."

When she finally did, she took one breath. A sigh of relief that she was okay. And then, a single tear dropped from her eyeline. Spencer couldn't take it. He stood and she followed suit, "Come here," He spoke before taking her into a tight hug. "You're safe, I promise." 

She pulled away just slightly but never dared to break touch, "The only reason I got away was because I had pepper spray in my bag," She explained. 

Spencer thought on that and then an idea came to mind. "Come with me," The boy took a hold of her hand, guiding the girl through the bullpen towards the meeting room where the rest of the team had been.

The round table was scattered with files and papers. Garcia typed away at her laptop while the rest were debriefing. At the entrance of the pair, they glanced up. 

Before they could ask any questions, Spencer started rambling, never daring to let go of Y/n's hand. "The unsub was protesting on the street, he's some kind of right-wing enthusiast. He was going on about the left-wing 'agenda', about how it's ruining America." He explained. "Not only that, but Y/n used pepper spray on him."

Like that, they had something, "He would have had to go to the hospital?" JJ thought.

"Or at least bought some kind of medical supplies."

"Yeah, saline wipes or there's a nasal spray that helps the pain." Spencer went on to explain.

From there, Hotch turned to Garcia, "Cross check avid right-wing protesters in the D.C. areas, men with low criminal offences, things like hate crime. Then look at anyone whose been admitted for treatment of pepper spray or has bought any medical supplies to treat it."

Like that, the aggressive typing ensued. The team were all waiting, Y/n still at Spencer's side, anxious for the name of her attacker to be revealed. "I've got it, Tony Jones."

When Hotch stood from his chair, the rest of the team started to follow. "Send us the address, Garcia."

"Already done it, Sir."

Each of the team members stood, one by one walking passed Y/n. That was apart from Garcia who was still glued to her laptop, sending the address to the rest of the team. Spencer was about to turn when Y/n reached for the boy's hand once again. Her eyes filled with nothing but worry. "Do you have to go?"

Her question had made his heart ache. His eyes flickered to Garcia who was already glancing at the two, "I- I probably should but, but Garcia will stay with you." He offered.

Y/n looked back at the extravagant woman who was smiling, "Of course, I've got loads of things I can show you in my office!" She gleamed.

Y/n returned the smile before turning back to Spencer, "You'll be careful, right?"

The boy nodded, "Of course," He replied before taking her in his arms once again. But this time, when he pulled away ever so slightly, it was to place a gentle kiss to her forehead.

And like that, a soft smile, a goodbye, was passed between the two before Spencer turned away to join the rest of the team. She stared out the door of the conference room until Spencer slipped away. From there, she turned, a weak smile given to Garcia as she came to join her at the round table.

The other woman had watched the interaction and, while she wasn't a profiler, she wasn't oblivious to the world of loving. "He really cares about you, doesn't he?" She asked. Though, Garcia already knew the answer.

"I care about him just as much," Even after all this time, a piece of her heart still belonged to Spencer Reid - it always would.

"You're not just an old friend, are you?"

Y/n swallowed, glimmers of that high school Summer filling her brain. "It was, complicated." She described. "We erm, only really had a Summer as..." How could she describe it? "More than friends, I guess. And then we were both shipped off to college. And I mean, we lost contact. As a lot of people do." And 12 years later here she was.

Garcia offered her a smile, "You still love him, don't you?"

The girl giggled but gave a nod, "I don't think I ever stopped."

"Well, if my time with Doctor Reid has taught me anything, the way he is with you, I mean it's like no other." Her hand brushed at her shoulder gently, "I don't think your feeling is one-sided."

That would stick in her head for the next hour. While Spencer and the rest of the team were arresting Tony Jones, Garcia was giving the girl a tour of her office. Everything wonderful and weird. And while she tried her best to pay attention, her mind kept being dragged over to Spencer. If he was safe, if he was coming back...if, once again, everything had changed.

She knew one thing: she would make sure they didn't lose contact this time around.

When the boy finally returned, he practically rushed through the BAU to find her. She was at Garcia's side as they exited her office, "Y/n," He called.

The girl's head snapped to him, her pace quickening as she came to reach him, "Did you?"

He nodded, "He's at the station, don't worry." He assured.

"Oh, good, yeah," She spoke before a sigh fell from her lips. "So, I mean, what happens now? Do I just go home?" The idea of such, while stupid to think so, was almost disappointing. Going home meant she wasn't in Spencer's company any longer. And that wasn't something she wasn't to lose just yet.

But Spencer's reaction was a similar one, "I can walk you home, if you want of course."

Her smile grew, "I'd like that."

"I'll just erm," He gestured to his FBI vest, "I'll only be a second."

And so she watched him leave for barely a minute, coming back in his shirt. He took her hand, led her into the lift and pressed for the ground floor. A moment of silence. A moment of thought. One of which was urgring Y/n on.

She glanced over at the boy, "You know I always think everything happens for a reason." Her nerves suddenly flooded her body as she realised what she was about to admit, "And as much as getting jumped was not fun, I'm glad it brought me back to you, Spencer."

Y/n turned to face him, barely any space between them, "I missed you."

"I missed you too, Spence."

With that, Y/n made the leap. She closed that gap, their lips meeting every so soft, ever so longing. Like they had both been waiting for this moment for 12 years. And when they pulled away, her hands cupping his face and his placed at her waist, it was like they were 18 again. "Promise we'll keep in contact now?" He almost joked.

And she chuckled, "Promise."

[pathologicalreid]

buried alive | S.R.

in which the BAU races against the clock to rescue you from a killer team

who? spencer reid x fem!BAU!reader

category: angsty

content warnings: kidnapping, case stuff (murder yk), suffocation, being buried alive, hospitals, blood, nausea, CPR, funerals, use of pet names, guns, and drugs. i think that's all.

word count: 2.9k

a/n: okay, so i've been reading so much spencer fanfic and i started writing it and yesterday i realized i have 20 fics written and they're doing no one any good just sitting on my computer. i decided to finally try posting one. i wrote fanfic in high school (so like seven years ago) but this is my first time writing for a TV show. i've also never really posted on tumblr so please bear with me while i try to figure out formatting. tysm for checking out my post.

part two part three

You walked into the conference room and dropped the file on the table, allowing it to land on the wood with a satisfying splat. “The unsub’s burying them alive,” you said, letting the rest of the team know the conclusion you had come to with the medical examiner. “The M.E. found metal shavings and satin threads under the nails of our last victim. The most common materials to make up a casket.”

“There’s no way someone could bury someone alive in a casket alone, we’ve got to be dealing with a team, at least three people,” Emily concluded, standing in front of the evidence board.

It was the team’s third day on a case in Nebraska, four women had been discovered dead. Asphyxiation by hypoxia. Carbon dioxide poisoning.

“Approximately 420 people in the United States die from accidental carbon dioxide poisoning every year,” Spencer said, grabbing the file off of the table and flipping through it, taking a few seconds to read through it.

Rossi looked over Reid’s shoulder to look at the file, “but there’s nothing accidental about these deaths. Who would have access to these caskets?”

You shook your head, placing a hand on the back of Spencer’s chair, “A funeral director seems most likely.” You looked around at the Omaha field office, different agents running about in an attempt to solve these very murders. “They’d have the most access, write it off as displays. It could be hard to match the materials since they’re so common.”

Hotch leaned over the table and pressed the conference phone, “What can I do you for?” Garcia’s bright voice rang through the speaker.

“Garcia, I need you to look into funeral homes within the comfort zone. Look for a director who’s ordered more caskets than they’ve had funerals. Find anything, nothing is too small.” He told her.

“Absolutely, I’ll hit you back when I’ve got something,” she said, hanging up the phone.

There ended up being four funeral homes in the unsub’s comfort zone, so the team split up. You went with two locals to a family-owned business, Garcia had sent you all of the files you’d need on the location. “It looks like the Varn family has been in the funeral business since the seventeenth century,” you read aloud to the two agents you were in the car with.

“Does it mean they’re more or less likely to be the killers if they’ve been in business for so long?” One of the agents asked you, a younger man named Harrison.

You pursed your lips as you continued to look over the files, “I’m not seeing any glaringly obvious stressors before the murders started, but over the years I’ve learned that’s no reason to write someone off. Psychopaths can be tipped off by the slightest thing. Things none of us would bat an eye at.”

Harrison nodded in the passenger seat, looking over to his partner Jimmy, “You and your guy sure do make an interesting pair.”

“I’m going to take that as a compliment, so thank you.” You and Spencer never explicitly stated to the field office that you were dating, but you walked into the precinct this morning holding hands. The agents must have drawn their own conclusions.

The younger officer cleared his throat, “It is a compliment, ma’am. The two of you are very impressive, your whole team is.”

You smiled, “Thank you, Harrison.”

The funeral home was run by a mother and her two sons, you held up your credentials for the mother when you knocked on the door. “Are you Sheila Varn?” You asked her, raising your eyebrows.

“Yes, what’s this about?” She inquired. She didn’t really look the part of a serial killer, a middle-aged woman who was running her family business.

Pocketing your credentials, you spoke, “We’re investigating the recent murders in the area and we were wondering if you had samples of the materials your caskets are made out of. Might we be able to come in?” You asked, adding a charming smile for effect.

Something flashed across her face before she returned your smile, opening the door and welcoming the three of you inside. “Hold on, let me get my boys up here. They’re so much more versed in the goings on of the town than I am,” she said, opening the door and calling for her sons. Felix and Joss came up the stairs from the basement, now they definitely had the physique to load dead women into caskets and bury them alive.

“Why don’t you two men come with me? I’ll get you those samples,” Sheila said, motioning for the agents you were with to follow her. To your horror, they followed her around the corner. “Felix, Joss, show this young lady what you know,” she instructed.

You took a deep breath before you looked up at the two men.

They were tall, maybe Spencer’s height, but they were built like wrestlers. There was no way you could physically subdue them on your own.

You passed out before you even had the chance to pull your gun.

Hotch was in full Unit Chief mode, Spencer watched from the corner of the room as he separated people into groups and gave them specific instructions. JJ and Morgan walked into the precinct, “What’s going on?” JJ asked looking around the room.

“The Varn Family is the team; two agents were found drugged on the side of the road and when we went to the funeral home Y/N was missing. Her badge, gun, and phone were all there, covered in blood,” Spencer said morosely, watching as Hotch finished giving orders and called the rest of the team over.

Your picture was up on the evidence board with the word “missing” written in bold letters beneath it. All of your belongings had been put into evidence for the time being. “Reid?” Hotch said his name, causing his head to snap up. “Are you okay to keep working?”

Spencer nodded affirmatively, “Yes.”

“Good, I need you to estimate how much time we have, I want a clock on these screens,” he ordered.

Morgan turned to Reid, “What do you think she has, kid?”

“The tidal volume for the average adult is point five at rest. That ends up being about six liters per minute. The average casket is approximately 886 liters in total volume and the average volume of the human body is 66 liters, leaving 820 liters to be filled with air for her to breathe. If she’s been gone for half an hour already, I’d estimate she has less than five hours of breathable air left.” Spencer explained, doing all of the math in his head while Emily put a timer on the screen next to the evidence board.

After a moment, Hotch continued, “Rossi, JJ, go back to the funeral home. Tear it apart, there has to be something there we haven’t found yet. The rest of us will split the list of cemeteries in the comfort zone and search them.”

“That’s a lot of ground to cover, we don’t have anything else to go on?” Morgan asked, looking at the list of burial sites he had been handed.

Hotch looked at Spencer, but Spencer stayed silent. “That’s all we have right now,” Hotch responded, “hopefully we’ll come across leads as we go.”

It smelled like a garden around you. The memory reminded you of spring with your mother, tending to the vegetable garden.

The only difference was that instead of the sun beaming down on you, it was pitch black. The space surrounding you was so dark that you weren’t totally sure your eyes were open.

Your head was throbbing just above your right temple, and you observed your surroundings. Slowly, you lifted your arm until it hit a ceiling.

Not a ceiling. A lid. You were in a casket. You pressed one hand to your chest and tried to slow your breathing. Chances were that the casket was already buried beneath the surface of the earth, trying to open it could be catastrophic. You patted the pockets of your jeans, only to find your phone missing, so the team wouldn’t be able to trace the location.

Even if you had it, there likely wouldn’t be service six feet under.

Your team would find you. They had to find you.

They found Spencer, they found Emily, and they would find you.

Spencer shifted in the passenger seat of the SUV, “You know, carbon dioxide poisoning is a rather peaceful way to die.”

“Reid,” Morgan said, turning the vehicle onto the main road, they had just finished scouring over another cemetery with still no sign of you.

He sighed and stared at his hands, “No, it’s good. We see so many people killed in so many different ways that it’s good that she won’t be in pain when she runs out of air.” He tried to convince himself.

Morgan cleared his throat, “We aren’t out of time yet, kid. We can still find her. Y/N’s smart, I’m sure she found a way to make more air or something.”

But they were running out of time, less than an hour remained on the timer set on all of their phones.

They pulled into the next cemetery, “There’s some fresh dirt over there, what are the names on the graves of people who were actually recently buried?”

Spencer starts to recite the names, and the two of them start to comb through the cemetery.

You had done enough research on this case to understand what was going on. The light-headed feeling had started not long ago, but now you felt like you were spinning, despite the knowledge that you were stuck in place.

It was a high. Not unlike the good kids high. Except instead of trying to chase a feeling, you were dying.

The timer went off when they were still scouring graves, shovels in hand. Derek stopped in his tracks, but Spencer kept going.

“Wait,” Spencer called out, reading the name on the card next to the fresh grave he was standing at, he moved to start digging. “Essie Dunbar was a thirty-year-old woman who was mistakenly buried alive in 1915,” he said, digging. “This has to be it.”

Derek called Hotch, putting the call on speakerphone so he could help Spencer dig. “Hotch, we got her, but she’s buried.”

“We’re on our way, Omaha police have one of the brothers in custody,” Hotch told Emily to have an ambulance dispatched.

What Reid knew that Derek didn’t was that it could take four hours to dig a grave by hand. The soil had been overturned, so maybe call it three. Your odds were still negligible. He didn’t stop, he didn’t stop when a caretaker came running at them, and he didn’t stop when Derek told him to get his digging equipment out here now.

Derek flashed his FBI badge to get what they needed. He had to physically pull Spencer back from the grave so the backhoe could dig, only going until there was less than a foot between them and the casket.

Spencer crudely attached a chain to the casket and the caretaker's vehicle. Carefully, the caretaker dragged the white container out of the earth and up a slant they had dug. It was locked shut, “Reid, move,” Derek ordered.

He leaned back and Derek fired at the lock, taking it off and opening the casket. Spencer gasped, there was blood on the side of your head, dried and raked through your hair. He was vaguely aware of Hotch and Emily arriving as they pulled you out of your satin prison. You had no pulse, but you were still warm. Immediately, Spencer started CPR.

“Reid let me do it,” Derek insisted.

What he was trying to say is that he shouldn’t have to be the one to try to save your life.

Morgan repeated himself and Spencer pulled away, allowing the other agent to immediately take over. There was a siren in the background, an ambulance. More people showed up, Spencer heard their voices, but he just kept watching you. CPR was effective if it was done shortly after your heart stopped, and even then, permanent brain damage was likely.

It had been eight minutes since they pulled you out of the ground. Clinically, you were dead for eight minutes before you gasped.

Spencer smoothed your hair back, away from your face, while you desperately tried to catch your breath. You weren’t moving, and Spencer started running through symptoms of hypoxia. His biggest fear was brain damage, that they had done more harm to you in bringing you back than they would have had you died.

The EMTs came running over to where everyone had gathered, dispersing the crowd, and placing an oxygen mask over your face. As they were loading you on the stretcher, you started trying to talk, reaching your arm out to your side. “Wait, what’s she saying?” JJ asked.

“Sometimes it’s hard to talk after CPR,” the male EMT said as they moved you closer to the ambulance. He listened to what you were saying, “It’s not coherent.”

Spencer didn’t move, all of the adrenaline that had been coursing through his body all day was leaving.

Aphasia. They were saying the lack of oxygen to your brain was causing aphasia. “No,” Emily said, realization dawning on her features as she strained to listen to you. You were whispering, rasping the same word over and over again. “She’s saying ‘Spence.’”

He stood quickly and looked at you, sure enough, you were reaching out your hand and whispering, “Spence, Spence.” Your voice no more than a whisper.

Grabbing your hand, Spencer squeezed it, “I’m here,” he answered. “It’s okay, it’s over,” he told you, moving your hair out of your face. Spencer secured your oxygen mask over your face as you tried to take it off, “You have to keep this on, angel.”

To his relief, you squeezed his hand back.

You had been instructed to get some rest, but you couldn’t close your eyes. You asked Spencer to go back to the hotel and change his clothes because he smelled like dirt, and it made you nauseous. Your head had been bandaged, you’d been run through an MRI, and you did an EEG, so far, the only brain damage that had been incurred seemed temporary.

According to the doctors, the nausea and fatigue should wear off, but they hadn’t been able to fully assess if any permanent damage was done. At this point, the worst of your injuries had been caused by being given CPR, resulting in cracked ribs.

Despite your headache, you kept most of the lights on in your hospital room, not quite ready to be left in the darkness again. “Hey,” a voice called from your doorway, Spencer stood, waiting to be invited in. He was wearing different clothes, a button-up with a green cardigan thrown over it, and clean pants. “How are you feeling?”

A nasal cannula slightly restricted your movement, but you were sat up in the hospital bed, “Better than I was, but not perfect.”

He shook his head, walking in and taking a seat next to you, “No one expects you to be perfect right now.” Gently, he reached out and took your hand, skimming the pad of his thumb over your knuckles. “They found the mother and the other son, and all three of them are going to go away for a long time,” he told you, speaking in the kind of hushed, reverent tones that are reserved for hospitals.

You sighed and tilted your head back, “Good,” you maundered. “That’s uh, good,” your voice was barely audible.

“So why do you look so worried?” He asked, leaning in closer to you.

In an attempt to dismiss his concern, you joked, “I think I owe Morgan some sort of life debt now.”

Spencer offered you a soft smile, “The two of you tend to trade those off, I’m sure you’ll find some way to make it up to him.” He inclined his head towards you as if to silently say, So what is it really?

You swallowed thickly, “I’m scared to close my eyes, Spence.”

His shoulders dropped, “oh, Angel,” he breathed. “Is there anything I can do for you?” He asked, looping a loose strand of your hair behind your ear. “Wait, what are you doing?” He asked, watching you as you lifted yourself, so you were on one side of the bed.

Shyly, you patted the new empty half of the bed, inviting him to sit next to you.

He had no choice but to comply, he had the hardest time saying no to you. Leaning the bed back slightly, Spencer kicked off his shoes before he laid down next to you, wrapping an arm around you as you set your cheek on his shoulder.

Your body relaxed into his and you sighed, “Spence?” You murmured.

He pressed a gentle kiss to the crown of your head, “Yes, angel?” He whispered back to you.

“Thanks for coming to save me,” you mumbled, slowly relaxing enough to fall asleep.

Spencer exhaled, “I’m always going to come to save you.”

part two

[bklily]

Do you guys ever think, VERY VERY early on, right after baby Adrien was born and Emilie started going down the long painful journey of "deathly motherhood disease". Do you guys think that. That Natalie like. Hated baby Adrien. Like. For a split second. She looked at the sparkling white crib hosting the most tiny golden perfect angel baby, who looked so much like Emelie, who was faded to slowly but surely syphon away her life, and for the tiniest of moments she glared at him. Because who else was she meant to resent? Emilie? Gabriel? The baby? ... probably Gabriel would be the safest bet actually. And then baby Adrien just smiled at her and held her finger and his eyes shone so much like Emilies and she knew she was doomed forever.

Do you guys ever think

[art-the-f-up]

hear me out... what if...

(I'm tired but I'll provide more context in a reblog later)

[ghosts-to-reid]

Red Herrings

~SPENCER REID REQUESTS OPEN~

Request: Heyyy, so I don’t know if you even like Taylor Swift, but I NEED a smutty Spencer fic inspired by Guilty as Sin x So Highschool…I‘m talking build up and idk after a case the team all go to Rossi‘s house and the next thing they know is they‘re drunkenly playing spin the bottle…maybe Spence getting jealous or something? And once reader spins again and it lands on him he can’t hold back anymore, so they make the best of the time they have going at it like horny teenagers. She‘s been waiting for that since she first met him. Imagining how it would feel to finally touch him. @mariechristine00

Warnings: 18+ MDNI! Smut, Unprotected sex, dom!spencer, sub!reader, kinda emily x reader??? not really, spin the bottle, Fingering, teasing, jealousy, orgasm denial, creampie, rough sex, cockwarming

A/N: Sorry it took so long! I have had very bad writers block, i hope this is ok!

Four women had died before the team had arrived in Arkansas. All of them had been sex workers, murdered in the same fashion as Jack The Ripper's victims. It wasn’t uncommon for serial killers to replicate Jack the Ripper, but this Unsub had paid incredibly close attention to the habits of the original Jack, which should’ve made him easy to find, right? Predict his next move based on the timeline of the original crimes. Except- This unsub had adapted Jack the Rippers techniques to the modern day, even sending red herrings, making him harder to catch. After 8 days though, the team had finally done just that, leaving everyone to finally feel the full effect of exhaustion.

The jet journey back had been fairly quiet, you and Spencer had fallen asleep on the couch together, your head leaning against his shoulder, his head resting on top of yours. The team had shared a look after spotting the pair of you in such a position. 

They had noticed shared glances between you both, how Reid would always bring you cups of coffee, how you’d bring enough lunch for two- knowing he wouldn’t eat if you didn’t. They’d heard all about your weekend hangouts, nights at the movies, dinners at each of your apartments. More often than not, you’d find both of you at one of your apartments, having stayed too late from a movie marathon, or even simply just wanting to stay  in each other's company.

Any outsider who saw you both would think you were together, but you weren’t. Not like it want something either of you wanted, no it was quite the opposite. There were definite feelings between you both, and neither of you denied it. Both of you were just afraid to ruin what you had, so instead of facing them, you both lived in willful ignorance. Something the team were becoming exceedingly frustrated to watch, but neither of you would take their advice either. Leaving them stewing in frustration as the pair of you willfully ignored your feelings.

So, seeing you both sleeping on one another? Not as exciting as it used to be, but still made them happy to see.

Rossi is the one who woke the two of you up after the jet had landed. The rest of the team were gathering their things as the two of you stirred, sitting up straight at the sight of the older man before you, making him chuckle.

“Just wanted to let the pair of you know that we're having a dinner party at my house tomorrow night. 6pm Sharp, okay?” Spencer glanced over to you, whilst you rubbed your eyes, sleepily muttering an agreement. Following your lead, he smiled at Rossi, accepting the invitation on his own behalf. 

Spencer helped you gather your things before guiding you out to his car, you often carpooled together and when you were at work the day of the case was no exception. You were still half asleep as he sat you down in the passenger seat of his beat up car, before sitting himself in the driver's seat.

“Can I stay at your house tonight, please?” You quietly asked, head leaning on the window, gazing at him through half lidded eyes “I feel bad for you driving all the way to my house, and doubling back to your apartment.”

The man driving smiled and muttered a small ‘Of course’, keeping his eyes on the nearly empty road. This wasn’t uncommon, ever since a mix up with hotel rooms a few months back, sleepovers had been added to your roster of ‘totally platonic’ activities you did together. Cuddling, sharing space, even beds, was now normal for you two. The rest of the team, if privy to this information, would point out how this was a manifestation of your feelings for each other; pushing the boundaries between friendship and romance, to try and fulfil your longing for each other subconsciously. Damn profilers.

The fact that this aspect of your relationship was secret from the team was also further proof that you both understood the implications. But you were just friends, right?

The car journey was quiet and quick, Spencer passed your go bag to you, mirroring you when he slung his own over his shoulder before grabbing your hand and leading you inside of his building.

Once inside, the pair of you set about your bedtime routines, changing in the same room, backs to each other. Brushing your teeth together, and slowly sliding into the warmth of Spencer’s Dark green covers. Small good nights are bid as Spencer pulls you into his chest, wrapping his arms around you, leg habitually landing over your him, effectively caging you as close to his chest as he could.  Though, you were no different, lacing your arms around his middle, crossing your leg over his, if you could get any closer you could. It was just natural to the pair of you, being as close as possible to one another just made you both feel better, but you both would never mention that to anyone. 

After a few minutes, when Spencer is sure you have fallen asleep, he places a small kiss to the crown of your head. Gently stroking the back of your head till he soon follows suit.

The next day, the two of you wake up entangled in each other's arms still. The mid morning light streamed through the curtains, gently rousing you both from your slumber.

Spencer lazily rubbed his fingers along your arm, up and down, until you finally roused fully. Sleepily smiling up at him, you hum as you bring your hand to meet his, intertwining your fingers together. Nudging yourself closer into his chest, he lets out a small chuckle.

“Morning, sleepy head.” He smiled as he squeezed your hand, he could hear a muffled “g'morning’” from you. Slowly, and hesitantly, he pulls his hand from yours, moving your head from his shoulder so he can look at you. He loved how you looked when you just woke up. Lips in a pout, eyes still half lidded, a slightly confused look on your face; he thought it was the cutest thing. As your eyes met his, his smile grew at the sight of your slightly messy hair. The hand holding your face slowly smoothes it down as he speaks.

“Do you want to shower and I'll go make breakfast?” He asked quietly, you nodded, still half asleep. Neither of you wanted to move yet, content in each other's arms. If you were lovers, it would be acceptable to say ‘no, I want to stay in bed with you’- But you are only best friends, nothing more. The realisation dawns on you both simultaneously as you both finally break from each other's hold. Though now feeling empty, you both move to perform your respective routines for the morning. It was around three that afternoon that you finally left Spencer’s house. After breakfast, the two of you had settled on his couch watching TV all morning, until you realised that you should probably go home to get ready for Rossi’s party tonight, Spencer offered to come to your house instead and sit with you as you got ready. He showered quickly, grabbing a change of clothes, before driving you both to your apartment around four.

Sitting with you was exactly what he did as you got ready, he sat in your room reading through your bookshelf as he waited, occasionally watching you as you put on your makeup and did your hair. When you were ready, he had changed as well, the pair of you dressed smart  but not too fancy. Your idea, of course.

“I’m sorry but there is no way I was going to a Rossi party in a tight dress,  I want to comfortably eat as much pasta as I want without feeling like I can’t move” Was what you had said.He laughed, and you both climbed into your car. You had worn a long summer dress, it flowed loosely around your frame, landing just below your knees. The dress was a a darker lilac, with dark purple flowers haphazardly splashed around the fabric. He had picked it for you when you had asked him to choose between two, unsure which you wanted to wear. Obviously, he chose his favourite colour. The thin straps accentuated the curve of your shoulders, he found his gaze landing on your neck for a moment too long before he reminded himself that you were just friends.

Pulling up to Rossi’s house, you parked the car. As you learnt into the back seat to grab your purse, he quickly hopped out of the car to open your door for you. He took your hand, closing the car door with the other. You smile at how much of a gentleman he is, intertwining your fingers with his before he has a chance to pull away. Hands staying intertwined the entirety of the walk into Rossi’s living room, breaking only to greet the rest of the team.

As the night flowed on, so did the wine. Dinner had been eaten, Spencer was amused at your gleeful motions as you reached for seconds, having your fill without worry. The team imbibed hard, bottles of Rossi’s expensive wine collection had been emptied before he had shooed the team away. Penelope, always the party animal, invited the team to continue the party at her place. Hotch was the only one who refused, wanting to get home to Jack. JJ and Will had agreed without hesitation, JJ’s mother being in town they had the whole night off, Emily followed suit of JJ, Derek agreeing without hesitation of course. The team glanced at you, Spencer and yourself sharing a look, silently communicating before you both agreed. Ordering a taxi to Penelope's house, you all piled into the minibus they sent. 

One quick trip to the 24/7 liquor store around the corner, the team minus Rossi and Hoth were gathered in Penelope’s living room. Spencer sat behind you on the sofa whilst you sat on the floor, between his legs. The team were thoroughly drunk now, enjoying their time off as best they could. Derek, ever the party animal, finished his beer with a loud ‘Ahhh’, grabbing everyone's attention. He held the now empty bottle into the air with a triumphant grin.

“Do you know what time it is, ladies and gentleman?” He smirked, an evil glint in his eye as he scanned the room. Confusion painting the faces of everyone around you. “Spin the bottle!” He laughed, moving to sit on the floor in line with you. Penelope squealed in glee, clapping her hands as she moved from her position to sit across from Derek. JJ shrugged to Will, who chuckled and joined the rest of the team on the carpet. Emily sat beside you soon after, and Spencer, albeit reluctantly, slinked from his place on the sofa behind you to sit. Once the team had gathered, Derek explained the rules as he moved the bottle into the middle of the newly formed circle.

“Ok, we’ve all played before. You spin, and whoever it lands on you give them a big old kiss” He paused to wiggle his eyebrows at Penelope, who giggled at him “If it lands on yourself, spin again”

The man looked around, seeing the team ready, before starting the game. He gave the bottle a quick spin, and leant back as he watched the bottle spin. After a few moments, the bottle lands on JJ, who he respectfully pecs quickly on the corner of the mouth, like she was his grandmother, Obviously slightly disappointed to land on the one married woman in the circle. 

“My turn?” JJ asked with a small slur,  she held a glass of white wine in her hand carefully, leaning to spin the bottle. Landing on Emily, There is a small pause between them before they share a longer peck, Emily quickly moving on.

“Please, God, do not make me kiss Reid.” She joked, making the team laugh as she spun the bottle. Whilst the team watched the bottle spin, You nudged Spencer’s shoulder comfortingly. You knew Emily wasn't being mean, and so did he.

The bottle did, however, land on you. Raising your eyebrows in surprise, Emily clapped her hands

“That was close!” She laughed, JJ smirking and shaking her head amused. Penelope sighed 

“I want a go” She pouted “I want a chance to kiss the one and only Derek Morgan.” She complained loudly. Everyone laughed at her fake tantrum, before Emily quickly moved in before you, softly grabbing the sides of your face, and bringing you in for a big closed mouthed kiss. It took you by surprise, and after a few seconds she pulled away, patting you on the shoulder.

“You’re welcome.” She deadpanned, making the rest of the team laugh once more. Still taken aback, you didn’t notice how Spencer had tensed up beside you after he saw your bewilderment from Emily’s short kiss. He watched silently as you leant forward to take your turn, eyes shooting up in surprise when he realised the bottle had landed on him. 

A chorus of ‘OOO’s’ rang through the living room, Red painted both his face and yours as you turned to each other. He blinked slowly at you and, after a second, the wine he had been drinking flushed him with confidence, he softly grabbed the side of your face, kissing you deeply, tongue running lightly over your bottom lip before he pulled away.

 Another chorus of cheers were heard from around you, the team celebrating seeing one of you finally make a move. Spencer smirked as he pulled away, seeing your shocked face from Emily’s kiss change. You were staring at him, pupils blown and  doe eyed, panting lightly through parted lips, cheeks flushed. He didn’t have a moment to enjoy it, as a knock ripped through Penelope’s apartment. She jumped quickly, answering to find her elderly neighbour, complaining about the noise. 

That was your cue to go. Spencer called a taxi for you both, you had already planned for him to stay the night. Both of you had shared a few bottles of wine between Rossi’s and Penelope’s, but that kiss seemed to have sober the two of you up. The taxi ride wasn’t awkward, more so quiet. Neither of you knew what to say after the kiss, just sharing the occasional joke about the night. 

Walking up to your house, you opened the door silently. After you both take your shoes off, he takes your hand once more, leading you to your bedroom- Once more setting off into your night time routine. Once you are changed, you sit on the edge of your bed, busying yourself by putting on hand lotion, you hardly register that Spencer has finished in the bathroom until you feel the bed dip behind you. Without thinking much of it, you continue slowly rubbing your hands together when you feel Spencers hands grab your hips. A jolt of electricity shot up your spine before Spencer’s lips connected to your neck. 

The surprise caused you to let out a gasp, your hand shooting up to hold his curls.

“S-Spencer?” You gasped the question as his grip tightened, continuing to kiss and nip at your exposed neck. It felt amazing, his lips against your skin, tender yet hungry. His desperation for you translated through every touch of his lips to flesh. Eventually, his lips assault reached your jawline, You heard him moan as you lightly tugged at his hair, an involuntary action after he lightly nipped at your earlobe, eliciting a low gasp of pleasure from you. One of his hands let your hip go, moving your head to face him. He stared at you with such hunger, such adoration, his eyes were full of so much love, but painted with a dark lust. His eyes flickered between your eyes and lips, he was just inches away. Both of you panted as you looked at one another, Spencer leaned in first, crashing his lips to yours. He kissed you with such fervour, it caught you off guard. Eventually, you melted into his kiss, moving from his grip to face him head on. His arms found their way around your waist, pulling you closer to him. Snaking your arms around his neck, he sighed into the kiss. After a moment he pulls away and begins to plaster kisses all over your face

“I don't…” he kisses your forehead “want you” he kisses your cheek “ Kissing anyone”  He kisses your nose “But me.” He locks eyes with you for an intense moment before placing another kiss to your lips. 

When he pulls away, he's still got one hand on your hip. You are both out of breath after his massacre of kisses. 

“Tell me to stop and I will.” He meets your eyes, searching for any regret of what you just did. He finds none, but he needs to hear you tell him. He watches as you bite your swollen lip, he stops himself from letting out a small groan at the sight of you like this. Your face is flushed, hair messy, giving him that wide doe eyed look once more. He can’t help the rush of heat that travels through him at the sight of you, shifting himself in hopes you do not notice. 

“Don’t stop…” You spoke quietly, and before you knew it, Spencer had you pinned on your back to the bed. His mouth was on yours, a feverish pace as he kissed you, hands now exploring every inch of you he could. He slotted himself between your legs as you opened them, wanting him closer. You had become a moaning mess at this point, muffled only by his lips on yours. He explored your mouth with his tongue, hand dipping to the hemline of your pyjama shorts. His fingers played with them for a moment before you pulled them down, along with your underwear. Spencer smirked at your action, looking down at you with dark eyes.

“You’re so eager…” He purrs,  eyes moving slowly down to see you, his words suddenly make you self conscious. Making a move to close your legs the best you could with him between them, he quickly stopped you, prying your knees wide. He lets out a low moan as he looks down at the state of you, already wet for him. The way he looks at you makes you squirm, never had you seen someone so excited to see you, all of you. The look in his eyes was dark as one of his hands grazed slowly down your thigh. His eyes move to meet yours in question as his fingers inched closer and closer to your throbbing core. Nodding feverishly, he smirked once more.

“Use your words. Tell me what you want.” His voice was harsher than the Spencer you knew, his tone was authoritative, nothing like the timid man you knew.

“I want you, Spencer.” Was all you could whisper out, overwhelmed by how he was making you feel. Without any further hesitation, his lips caught yours in another fervent kiss. One hand held your cheek, whilst the other was making its way down between your legs. 

Smirking at you squirm under him, his hand finally reaches its destination. Long fingers begin to explore your folds, occasionally bumping your clit as he gathers your slik. From his position over you, you can see how much he's enjoying this. How he knows he has power over you, the look on his face says it all. He’s almost observing you, brows furrowed as his eyes are glued to your face. He smirks at every pleasured moan, every twisted expression as you grind against his palm involuntarily. 

“You like that?” He asks you, smugly. A long finger now teasing your entrance, you can’t help but whine in response. He lets a low chuckle out, finger dipping into you, only slightly. His grin widens when he hears the strangled moan, disrupted by disappointment. 

“More…” You gasp, he has sat up straight now, one hand still teasing your entrance, whilst the other moves to hold down your hips.

“You want more? I’ll give you more.” He bites his bottom lip as he pushes his finger knuckle deep, he doesn’t let you adjust as he begins to fuck you steadily. Absent-mindedly, you grind down once more, only to be stopped by Spencer’s grip. “No, not yet, baby. Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you.” He cooed, sounding entirely unsympathetic as he slid another finger in.

This was a side of Spencer that you’d never thought to exist. The look in his eyes, the way he moved, the way he spoke to you- It was primal. The sweet, innocent nerdy bookworm was currently ruthlessly finger fucking you. You never thought a day like this would happen, but with the way he was making you feel, it was almost electric. 

As he continued, he brought his other hand down to your clit, massaging small circles into the sensitive nub. Gasping his name, you can’t help but grind your hips against his hand, seeking any kind of relief you could.

“I-I’m so close-” You manage to choke out “Im gonna cum-” 

Spencer quickly removed his fingers from their place inside of you, causing you to let out a frustrated cry “No! Sp-encer… WHy” You pant, it was embarrassing how needy your best friend had managed to make you. As you slowly managed to recollect yourself, you managed to meet his gaze. A smirk was still present as he brought his fingers to his mouth, popping them into his mouth. Biting back a whimper, you watch him suck your slick clean from his fingers, his eyes never leaving yours.

You couldn't help but watch him, lips a part, eyes doe like, a dumbfounded expression that he loved. The same expression you gave him after he kissed you. Letting out a low groan, he began to remove his sweatpants, keeping his eyes trained to yours as you watched him release himself. 

He made quick work of aligning himself with your aching entrance, looking up to give you one last mischievous smirk before leaning in to whisper to your ear

“When I do this, you're gonna promise to be just mine?” His breath is hot against your skin, you eagerly agree. HHe stays leaning over you as he slides in, slowly. A  groan is muffled in your shoulder as he bottoms out, staying still for a moment. You can't help but dig your nails into his back, the way he felt filling you up was just too good.

Without warning, Spencer began to move, sluggish at first, but he quickly began to gain speed. A loud moan escaped you as he sped up, lewd sounds filling the room as he began to fuck you relentlessly. 

“Spencer!” YOu cry, he leans up, pulling you down the bed by your hips, he pulls your legs around his shoulders as he finds a new purchase. The new position makes him hit your core in a way you’ve never experienced. “Dont stop”

He doesn't reply,distracted by the feeling of your pussy around him. A tight knot began to wind in your stomach, once more threatening to snap.

“I'm gonna cum, please can i cum?” You begged through tears of pleasure. Spencer let out a malicious laugh, loving the mess you had  become. He didn’t reply, simply speeding up his hips, answering your question. All you could do was grab the bedsheets as he brought you to your climax, a loud groan filling the space as he continued to fuck you, cooing praises as he rides you through it. 

As your orgasm winds down, you feel his hips begin to stutter irregularly. He grunts with effort, hair sweatily covering his face. “Where can i cum, baby?” He gasps, hips tense as he tries to hold on. Involuntarily, the sight of him now struggling turned you on, making you clench around him. A loud gasp interrupts him “Fuck, let me cum inside, please?” He begs

“Yes!” You moan, without a second thought, you felt the man release, filling you up completely. He lets a loud strangled groan as he bottoms himself out once more, collapsing on top of your body.

There is a moment of silence as you both lie there. It seems to dawn on you that you have just been fucked by your bestfriend, making you panic momentarily. The panic subsides when you notice the tickle of his fingers on your bare side, tracing small patterns as he nuzzles closer into your neck. Bringing a hand up to play with his hair, you let yourself melt into his touch. His weight on top of you was a comfort, his warmth radiated from his skin to yours, and all you could do was feel safe. 

After a moment, your clarity comes back. Curiosity takes over, you weren’t complaining about what had happened between you both, in fact, you wanted this for years. But why now?

“Baby?” You hum out, testing the waters of your new predicament. Though, it seems silly to be hesitant in a pet name when he was still currently inside of you. His head perks up nonetheless, the usual sweet and smiley Spencer seemingly coming  back as he gives you a soft smil;e at the nickname.

“Yes, baby?” He hummed back, a dopey smile on his face as he emphasised the pet name, Making your heart flutter.

“Not that i'm complaining about this… but what brought this on?” You asked, quaking a brow in question. A blush creeps across Spencer’s face, shifting slightly in his place on top of you. 

“I… Well. I was jealous…” He mutters, now exceedingly shy compared to the side of him he has just shown you. The surprise made your brows shoot up, giving him a questioning look, spurring him to continue “When Emily kissed you… I just got jealous, the look on your face… I’d never seen it before. I didn’t want anyone else to look at you like that, but after your turn…” He trailed off, eyes trailing your naked body underneath him. The sight of you seemed to re awaken his dominant side as he caught sight of where you were both still connected. He lets a huff of a laugh out as he drags his hips out slowly, before slamming himself back into you, happy at the moan he managed to take from you. That cocky grin found his lips once more as he continued his motions, slowly dragging his hips out and slamming himself back in, all the way to the base.

He didn’t need to say anything else, as soon you were both too preoccupied in the feeling of one another once more.

When the two of you return to the office together on Monday, Hand in hand, Spencer still in the same suit the team had seen him in Friday, the team all but threw a parade. Derek dejectedly passed Emily a twenty as they watched the man, not so secretly, kiss you in the kitchenette.