#fbi international season 4

[karihighman]

JLS IS COMING BACK TO TV IN THE WOLF UNIVERSE (just not to PD & not as Halstead!) and how great are Tracy & LaRoyce’s comments?! The sweetest cast mates they are!

[sorry-i-spaced]

I fear I have watched 1 episode of FBI International and am now invested to the point that it's all I can think about this morning

[novelswithariana]

2023 Wrapped- Movies/Shows Edition

Rocky Aur Rani Kii Prem Kahaani (2023)

Satyaprem Ki Katha (2023)

Neeyat (2023)

Jayeshbhai Jordaar (2022)

Jailer (2023)

FBI Season 1 (2018-2019)

FBI Season 2 (2019-2020)

FBI: Most Wanted Season 1 (2020)

Jawan (2023)

FBI Season 3 (2020-2021)

FBI: Most Wanted Season 2 (2020-2021)

Happy Family Conditions Apply (2023)

FBI Season 4 (2021-2022)

FBI: Most Wanted Season 3 (2021-2022)

FBI: International Season 1 (2021-2022)

Home Alone (1990)

Runway 34 (2022)

[readsaboutreid]

Everything To Me | S.R.

summary: Spencer is in love with his coworker and best friend and goes all out to celebrate her birthday on the day after when she catches her boyfriend in bed with another woman when they arrive home from a case.

this is 100% season 1 spencer

warning: cheating, making out, angst/comfort

“(Y/N)! Wait up!” Spencer stumbled, tripping over his feet as he hurried to catch the elevator with his friend. He covered the distance from his desk to the elevator doors in record time as (Y/N) hit the button to presumably hold open the doors for him. He slid in and stood next to her while panting lightly. He really needed to do some cardio, he noted to himself.

“Wow, with speed like that I should start calling you Barry Allen,” she giggled, making Spencer's heart flutter in the best and most terrifying way and drawing a laugh out of his throat (even though he didn’t really get the reference). He couldn't help it when all he could think about was how much he wanted to hear that laugh every day for the rest of his life.

“Sorry,” he flashed a sheepish smile at her and ducked his head a little bit as he felt his cheeks heat up slightly.

“Hey, uh, I was wondering if you had any, uh, any plans for the evening? There’s a Star Trek: The Next Generation marathon and I know that’s your favorite Star Trek series so I was thinking maybe we could hang out and maybe get some takeout?"

"That sounds like it would be a hell of a time," she began. Spencer could already feel the incoming, "but I promised Warren I'd spend the evening with him since it's my birthday and all." Spencer had to keep himself from making a face at the mention of her asshole of a boyfriend, not wanting to upset her, and so instead he opted to skip over that and react to the next part of her statement.

"Wait it's your birthday? Why didn't you say anything? We all would have done something to celebrate before going home today," Spencer started kicking himself internally. How could he not have known today was her birthday? The two of them had become attached at the hip pretty much since she started at the BAU 4 months ago. She had even celebrated his own birthday with him and the rest of the team.

“Hey, it’s okay! You don’t need to feel bad or anything, I tend to just treat my birthday like it’s any other day so I often just don't even tell anyone when it is,” she shot him a sweet smile in an attempt to assure him that it was okay but it didn't make him feel any less guilty.

Spencer's heart sank a bit at the thought of not being able to celebrate (Y/N)'s birthday with her, but he knew Warren was important to her regardless of how much Spencer and the team disliked him. He mustered a smile and nodded, "No worries, spending time with Warren sounds great. Happy birthday, (Y/N). I hope your day is as wonderful as you are."

(Y/N) blushed at the compliment, waving it off modestly. The elevator dinged softly, indicating they had reached the ground floor. As the doors slid open, they stepped out into the bustling lobby of the FBI building. Spencer glanced at his watch and realized it was already late in the evening.

"Well, I should let you get going. Have a fantastic birthday night with Warren," Spencer said, trying to hide his disappointment behind a cheerful facade.

"Thank you, Spencer. I really appreciate it. We should definitely catch that Star Trek marathon another time," she replied with a warm smile before turning to head towards the exit.

Later in the evening, Spencer found himself sitting on his worn-out couch, a container of lukewarm Chinese takeout resting in his lap as he absentmindedly watched reruns of Star Trek. His mind kept wandering back to the encounter in the elevator with (Y/N) earlier that day. The missed opportunity to spend her birthday with her weighed heavily on his heart.

Just as Captain Picard was about to make a diplomatic decision that could change the course of an entire star system, Spencer's phone rang, jolting him out of his thoughts. He glanced at the screen to see (Y/N)'s name flashing brightly.

With a mixture of confusion and worry, he answered the call. "Hey, (Y/N), is everything okay?" His heart clenched at the sound of her quiet sobs on the other end of the line.

"Spencer," her voice cracked, "can you... can you come pick me up?"

Without another word, Spencer sprang into action. "Of course, (Y/N). I'll be right there. Where are you?" Spencer's voice was filled with concern as he quickly grabbed his keys and rushed out the door, leaving behind the half-eaten container of Chinese takeout and the flickering TV screen showing Star Trek.

As he drove through the quiet streets towards (Y/N)'s location, thoughts raced through Spencer's mind. Why was she crying? What had happened? He couldn't bear the thought of her in distress, especially on her birthday.

Finally reaching the spot where she said she would be, Spencer spotted (Y/N) sitting on a bench outside of a sketchy looking apartment complex, her head buried in her hands. He parked the car and hurried over to her, his heart breaking at the sight of her tear-streaked face.

"(Y/N), what's wrong?" Spencer knelt down beside her, gently placing a hand on her back. She looked up at him with red, puffy eyes, and he felt a crack in his chest

as her trembling voice filled the cool night air.

"I... I waited for Warren at my apartment, but he never showed up or called. I got worried and went to his place," she paused, taking a shuddering breath before continuing, "I let myself in with my key, and... and I found him in bed with another woman."

Shock rippled through Spencer as he struggled to process her words. The image of (Y/N) standing in the doorway of Warren's apartment, witnessing such a betrayal, tore at his heart. Anger flared within him, directed not only at Warren but at the unfairness of it all. How could someone as kind and genuine as (Y/N) be treated so callously?

Without hesitation, Spencer pulled (Y/N) into a tight embrace, offering her solace in the warmth of his arms. He felt her tears soak into his shirt as she clung to him, seeking comfort amidst the storm of emotions raging within her.

As she sobbed into his chest he felt tears pricking his own eyes. He gently cupped her head and started stroking her hair in an attempt to soothe her before saying, “let’s get you into the car, okay?”

As Spencer led (Y/N) to his car, he couldn't shake the image of her devastated face from his mind. The weight of her heartbreak hung heavy in the air, suffocating him with a sense of helplessness. He opened the car door for her, watching as she settled into the passenger seat with a heavy sigh.

"I'm so sorry, (Y/N)," Spencer murmured softly as he started the engine, casting a sympathetic glance her way. "You deserve so much better than this."

(Y/N) let out a bitter laugh, devoid of any humor. "I should have known better than to get my hopes up. This is why I never celebrate my birthday. It’s more trouble than it’s worth," she confessed, her voice laced with resignation and nothing more than a whisper by the very end. Spencer's heart clenched at her words. He wanted nothing more than to ease her pain, to show her that she deserved all the love and happiness in the world.

"You deserve to be celebrated, (Y/N)," Spencer said with conviction, his eyes meeting hers in the dim light of the car. "No one has the right to make you feel otherwise. You are kind, beautiful, and deserving of all the love and joy that life has to offer."

Spencer's words echoed in (Y/N)'s mind as they drove through the quiet streets of the city, the soft glow of streetlights casting a serene ambiance over the car. The heaviness of her heart began to lift ever so slightly, buoyed by the sincerity in Spencer's eyes and the comfort of his presence beside her.

As they reached a stoplight, Spencer turned to (Y/N) with a tentative smile. "How about we make a detour?" he suggested gently. "There's this little ice cream shop a few blocks away. Maybe some ice cream might help lift your spirits."

(Y/N) managed a small smile in return, touched by Spencer's thoughtfulness. The simple gesture felt like a ray of sunshine breaking through the storm clouds that had gathered around her heart. "That sounds nice," she replied softly, her voice still tinged with sadness but with a glimmer of gratitude shining through.

They parked near the ice cream shop, its cheerful neon sign beckoning them inside. The bell above the door jingled as they stepped in, greeted by the sweet scent of freshly made waffle cones and a colorful display of ice cream flavors. Spencer guided (Y/N) to a cozy booth by the window, where they could watch the world pass by as they indulged in their frozen treats.

As they savored their ice cream, the heaviness in (Y/N)'s heart began to thaw, melting away with each spoonful of creamy sweetness. Spencer listened attentively as she shared snippets of her favorite childhood memories, her voice soft and wistful against the backdrop of cheerful chatter from other customers.

Once they had finished their ice cream, Spencer suggested another detour. "There's this little vintage store down the street that always has some classic movies on sale. How about we pick up one of your favorites and head back to my place to watch it?”

(Y/N) hesitated before saying, “I don’t know about picking up anything from a store but is that Star Trek marathon still on?” The slight amount of hope in her voice made Spencer’s heart flutter with a mix of relief and warmth. He had been longing for a chance to make her smile, to see a glimmer of happiness light up her eyes once more.

Nodding enthusiastically, he replied, "Absolutely! We can swing by the store another time. For now, let's head straight to my place for that Star Trek marathon." The anticipation in (Y/N)'s eyes was palpable as they made their way to Spencer's cozy apartment. The familiar scent of old books and fresh laundry greeted them as they stepped inside, the soft glow of string lights casting a warm ambiance over the living room.

Spencer turned the TV back on, dimming the lights to create a cozy home-theater atmosphere. They settled on the couch, surrounded by plush pillows and soft blankets, basking in the nostalgic thrill of the sci-fi classic unfolding on the screen.

As the episode played on, Spencer got up and reheated the Chinese food from earlier and putting it on plates for each of them. He grabbed himself a fork and got one of the sets of chopsticks from the restaurant for (Y/N). As he made his way back to the living room he saw (Y/N) happily rocking back and forth as she watched Data and Geordi share another one of their intriguing engineering discussions. Spencer couldn't help but smile at the sight, a flicker of contentment lighting up his own heart as he handed (Y/N) the plate with her food and settled back onto the couch beside her.

Between bites of General Tso's chicken and sips of hot tea, Spencer couldn't help but feel a sense of peace settle over him. The soft glow of the TV cast shadows across the room, creating a cocoon of warmth and familiarity around them. The gentle hum of the spaceship's engines on screen seemed to lull them both into a comfortable silence, broken only by the occasional chuckle or comment about the characters.

After a few episodes, Spencer found himself stealing glances at (Y/N) out of the corner of his eye, admiring the soft curve of her profile as she watched intently. He could see a spark of joy in her eyes, a fleeting moment of escape from the weight of unspoken emotions that lingered between them. Sensing a rare moment of vulnerability, Spencer cleared his throat softly before turning to (Y/N) with a gentle smile.

"Hey, (Y/N)," he began, his voice soft and tentative. "I was wondering... If you could have done anything for your birthday today, what would it have been?"

(Y/N) paused, her gaze shifting from the screen to Spencer. Her expression softened as she considered the question, a faint blush dusting her cheeks. "You know, I've always wanted to visit the Smithsonian," she murmured, her eyes distant with longing. "And maybe the Botanic Gardens too... It's on my list of things to do someday."

Spencer nodded, committing her words to memory as he filed away the simple desires she shared. He made a mental note to himself, silently vowing to make those dreams a reality for her someday.

As they finished the last episode of Star Trek: The Next Generation, Spencer noticed the clock on the wall ticking closer to midnight. With a sense of reluctance, he turned to (Y/N) and said, "I hate to cut this short, but it's getting late. I should call a cab for you."

(Y/N) looked up at him, a mixture of disappointment and understanding in her eyes. She nodded quietly, gathering her things and slipping on her coat. As Spencer dialed for a cab, he couldn't shake off the feeling of missed opportunities hanging heavy in the air.

The subdued sound of the approaching cab echoed through the quiet street outside. Spencer opened the door for (Y/N), his gaze lingering on her for a moment longer than necessary. "I'll be picking you up at 11 am tomorrow so be dressed and ready," he said, surprising both himself and (Y/N) with his sudden declaration.

Confusion flashed across her face as she stammered, "But... why? Where are we going?"

"Just make sure you’re ready,” he smiled, ideas blossoming in his mind as he decided he was going to show her what her birthday meant to him. He closed the cab door behind her and waved as the car drove off before turning on his heel and heading back inside, preparing to show his best friend the time of her life tomorrow.

Spencer woke up at 8 am the next morning to the soft rays of sunlight filtering through the curtains, illuminating his room in a golden hue. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he stretched his arms above his head and swung his legs over the edge of the bed. Today was going to be special; he was determined to make it a day that (Y/N) would never forget.

Remembering her mention once that morning glories were her favorite flower, Spencer decided to start by weaving a delicate flower crown out of the vibrant blooms he had picked from his backyard garden. As he carefully intertwined the petals and vines into a crown fit for a queen, he couldn't help but smile at the thought of seeing (Y/N) wear it.

After finishing the flower crown, Spencer's thoughts drifted to a memory she had shared with him long ago. Before her parents had passed away, they used to build her a pillow fort and hang fairy lights in it on special occasions. Determined to recreate that sense of childhood magic for her, Spencer set about constructing a fort in his living room. He gathered every pillow and blanket he could find, stacking them strategically to form the walls of the fort. With a bit of effort and creativity, he managed to fashion an elaborate yet cozy hideaway filled with soft cushions and twinkling fairy lights. His PhD in Engineering was finally seeing some use.

As he stepped back to admire his handiwork, Spencer's heart swelled with a mix of emotions. The soft glow of the lights cast a warm, inviting aura over the fort, creating an atmosphere of whimsy and nostalgia. He could almost picture the look of wonder on (Y/N)'s face when she saw it, and the thought filled him with a sense of anticipation.

With the fort completed, Spencer glanced at the clock and realized it was almost time to pick up (Y/N). Quickly changing into a clean shirt and vest and grabbing the flower crown he had made earlier, he made his way out the door, excitement bubbling in his chest.

As he drove to (Y/N)'s apartment, Spencer's mind was a whirlwind of nerves and anticipation. He parked the car a few blocks away, wanting to give himself a moment to compose himself before their day together began. Taking a deep breath, he stepped out onto the sidewalk and started the short walk to her building.

The street was alive with the sounds of the city waking up - the distant hum of traffic, the chatter of early risers going about their day. But in Spencer's mind, all he could focus on was the image of (Y/N) in his mind, wearing the flower crown he had made for her.

Finally reaching her apartment building, he climbed the steps to her floor, his heart pounding in his chest. Standing in front of her door, he took one last deep breath before lifting his hand to knock.

The sound echoed through the hallway, reverberating in Spencer's ears as he waited with bated breath. After what felt like an eternity, he heard footsteps approaching from inside the apartment. The soft shuffling of footsteps grew louder, and Spencer's pulse quickened in anticipation. Suddenly, the gentle click of the door being unlocked filled the air, and it slowly swung open to reveal (Y/N) standing before him.

She looked breathtaking. (Y/N) was wearing a simple yet elegant dress with cute buttons lining the front and a delicate peter pan collar. Her chin length bob was slightly curved under her chin and her bangs fell across her forehead in such a perfect way and Spencer looked away quickly, his cheeks burning when he realized he was staring. For a moment, they stood there in silence, the air thick with unspoken words and emotions.

Then, Spencer slowly brought forward the flower crown he had hidden behind his back, holding it out towards (Y/N) with a shaky hand. “Happy birthday," he finally whispered, his voice barely above a breath as he nervously offered her the crown. The soft petals of the flowers brushed against her fingertips, and (Y/N)'s eyes widened in surprise and delight as she took the flower crown from Spencer's hand. A small gasp escaped her lips as she held the delicate creation, a mix of awe and gratitude shining in her eyes as she looked up at him.

"Spencer, it's beautiful," she murmured as she gently placed it atop her head, her voice soft with emotion. The sun was just beginning to rise, casting a golden glow that illuminated her features, making her look even more ethereal. In that moment, caught in the gentle morning light, Spencer felt a swell of affection for her that threatened to overwhelm him.

After a beat of silence filled with unspoken words hanging in the air between them, Spencer cleared his throat and offered a hesitant smile. "Are you ready to go?" he asked, his heart beating a little faster at the prospect of spending the day with her.

(Y/N) returned his smile with a nod, her eyes sparkling with anticipation as she looped her arm through his, the flower crown perched delicately on her head. They strolled down the bustling street, the city waking up around them with a cacophony of sounds and scents. Spencer couldn't help but steal glances at (Y/N), her presence beside him filling him with a warmth he hadn't felt before.

Their first stop was a cozy bookshop just across the street from her apartment building. The bell above the door chimed softly as they entered, and the scent of aged paper and ink enveloped them in a comforting embrace. Rows upon rows of books lined the shelves, each one whispering promises of new worlds and adventures.

"Pick out as many as you'd like," Spencer said, gesturing to the endless array of titles surrounding them. (Y/N)'s eyes widened in delight, a soft gasp escaping her lips as she wandered through the aisles, her fingers trailing over spines in search of stories. He watched as she made her way through the shelves until she reached the SciFi/Fantasy and Horror section and begin removing books from the shelves, reading the backs and either adding them to the stack in her arms or placing them back on the shelves.

Spencer couldn't help but admire the way (Y/N) immersed herself in the world of books, her eyes alight with a passion that made her even more enchanting. She moved with purpose, carefully selecting each book as if it held a piece of her soul within its pages. His heart swelled with fondness for her, her love for literature reflecting a depth to her character that he found endlessly captivating.

As (Y/N) returned back to him, her arms filled with a stack of books that seemed to reach towards the sky, she gave him a sheepish smile. "I might have gotten a bit carried away," she admitted, a hint of embarrassment coloring her cheeks. “Could you help me narrow things down a little bit?”

Spencer chuckled softly, his eyes crinkling at the corners in amusement. "No need to apologize. Let's see what treasures you've found," he said, reaching out to take a few books from her arms. Together, they perused the titles she had chosen, discussing the plots and themes. After they had no luck in narrowing down the pile, Spencer scooped them all up into his arms in a stack and began making his way to the checkout stand.

"Why bother narrowing it down?" Spencer's voice was filled with a playful lilt as he carried the stack of books towards the checkout counter, (Y/N) trailing behind him with a smile tugging at the corners of her lips.

"Impressive selection," the bookstore clerk commented as he rung up the stack of books, each title a window into (Y/N)'s interests and desires. (Y/N) beamed at the compliment, her eyes shining with confusion and gratitude as Spencer pulled out his wallet and paid before she could even reach for her own from her bag.

As they left the bookshop, the sun had climbed higher in the sky, casting a warm glow over the crowded streets. The sounds of the city swirled around them—honking cars, lively chatter, and the distant rumble of a passing train. Spencer glanced over at (Y/N) walking beside him, her face illuminated by a soft radiance.

(Y/N) quickly unlocked the door and placed the bags of books onto her dining room table before they walked back outside. Spencer patiently waited as she locked her door before holding his arm out again for her to grab on to as he lead her to his car.

As they arrived at the Smithsonian Air and Space Museum, Spencer's steps were light with anticipation. The air was alive with the promise of discovery, and he couldn't wait to share this world of wonders with (Y/N). The museum loomed before them like a giant treasure trove, its grand architecture a testament to human ingenuity and ambition.

Stepping inside, they were greeted by a vast hall filled with aircraft suspended from the ceiling like metallic birds frozen in flight. (Y/N)'s eyes widened in awe, her gaze flitting from one exhibit to another as Spencer led her through the maze of history and innovation.

"This is the Wright Flyer," Spencer said, pointing towards the iconic biplane that started it all. "It's incredible to think that this simple machine paved the way for all modern aviation."

As they moved deeper into the museum, Spencer's voice became a gentle murmur of knowledge and passion. He regaled (Y/N) with stories of astronauts who dared to venture beyond Earth's atmosphere and the technological advancements that made it all possible. (Y/N) listened with rapt attention, her eyes shimmering with wonder and admiration for both the exhibits and the man beside her.

Each artifact held a story, a piece of history waiting to be unraveled. Spencer's explanations brought life to the static displays, turning them into vibrant tales of human courage and scientific progress. He pointed out the intricate details of each spacecraft, each spacesuit, each photograph, as if they were sacred relics in a grand temple of human achievement.

As they entered the lunar module exhibit, (Y/N) gasped in awe at the sight of the actual spacecraft that had touched the surface of the moon as well as a piece of rock from the moon that was free for visitors to touch. She reached out a hand as if to touch it, but stopped herself, as if afraid to disturb the fragile connection between past and present.

Spencer noticed her hesitation and smiled softly. "It's okay, you can touch it," he encouraged. "Feel the history in your fingers."

(Y/N) tentatively reached out and brushed her fingertips against the cool, pitted surface of the moon rock. A jolt of electricity seemed to pass through her as she made contact, connecting her to a distant world that had once seemed so unreachable. Her eyes shimmered with unshed tears, overwhelmed by the weight of history and the magnitude of human achievement.

Spencer watched her with a mix of admiration and fondness, his heart swelling with a bittersweet ache at the sight of her emotional response. He longed to reach out and comfort her, to share in this moment of vulnerability and connection, but he held back, knowing that some experiences were meant to be felt in solitude.

As they moved on to the space shuttle exhibit, Spencer's voice took on a reverent tone as he explained the intricacies of space travel and the courage of those who dared to venture into the unknown. (Y/N) listened intently, hanging onto his every word as if they were precious treasures. The stories of the astronauts and their daring adventures resonated with her in a way she couldn't quite explain. It was as if each tale of exploration and discovery tugged at something deep within her, awakening a yearning for the stars that had long been dormant.

After exploring the wonders of the cosmos in the Air and Space Museum, Spencer suggested they visit the Museum of Natural History next. (Y/N) eagerly agreed, her curiosity piqued by the promise of delving into the mysteries of the natural world.

The moment they stepped into the museum, a wave of earthy scents enveloped them—the musty aroma of ancient fossils, the fresh green fragrance of preserved plants, and the tangy scent of minerals. (Y/N) took a deep breath, savoring the rich tapestry of odors that surrounded her as they ventured deeper into the exhibits.

Spencer guided her through halls filled with towering skeletons of dinosaurs, exotic taxidermy specimens, and sparkling gemstones that seemed to whisper tales of ancient worlds and forgotten creatures. His voice, now a gentle hum of fascination, wove intricate stories of the natural wonders before them, each exhibit a chapter in the never-ending book of Earth's history.

With every step, (Y/N) felt herself being transported back in time, her senses overwhelmed by the sights, sounds, and scents of a world long gone yet preserved within the walls of the museum. She marveled at the sheer diversity of life that had once inhabited the planet, from the majestic bones of a towering T-Rex to the delicate wings of a butterfly frozen in time.

As they reached the Butterfly Pavilion, (Y/N)'s eyes lit up with childlike excitement. She walked among the lush greenery, her fingers gently trailing over velvety leaves and vibrant petals as she inspected each plant with keen interest. Spencer watched her with a soft smile, his admiration for her knowledge and passion shining in his eyes.

"It’s like stepping into a living kaleidoscope," (Y/N) breathed, her voice hushed with wonder. "Each butterfly and moth, every plant here tells a story of adaptation and survival. Look at this one," she gestured to a plump monarch butterfly sipping nectar from a bright orange bloom, "did you know they migrate for thousands of miles to escape the cold?"

Spencer was happy to listen intently to her spout knowledge that he already held, captivated by the gleam in her eyes and the animated gestures that accompanied each explanation. He found himself falling even more deeply under her spell as she shared her wealth of knowledge, her voice growing more animated with each tidbit of information.

As they wandered through the pavilion, (Y/N) pointed out the intricate patterns on the butterflies' wings, explaining their purpose and significance with a mix of scientific precision and unbridled enthusiasm. Spencer couldn't help but be swept up in her passion, feeling a warmth bloom in his chest at the sight of her so fully immersed in her element. Her rarely used PhDs in Botany and Microbiology shone brightly through her words and actions as she explained the importance of every living thing within the enclosure down to the network of fungal mycelium in the dirt, making Spencer see her in a whole new light. The way she spoke about each species of butterfly or moth, each plant or fungus they saw, showcased not only her expertise but also her deep love and respect for the natural world.

Spencer found himself hanging onto her every word, just as she had done with his tales of space exploration earlier. He admired the way her eyes sparkled with excitement, the way her hands gestured animatedly as if conducting a symphony of knowledge and wonder.

As they reached a secluded corner of the pavilion, (Y/N) knelt down beside a cluster of milkweed plants, her voice soft and reverent as she explained their importance to the monarch butterflies. Spencer watched her intently, a sense of peace settling over him as he observed her in her element. He then checked his watch, his eyes widening in realization as he saw the time. They were going to be late for the dinner reservation he had managed to secure at the new Italian restaurant (Y/N) had been longing to try for months. With a gentle touch on her shoulder, Spencer interrupted her explanation about the symbiotic relationship between the milkweed plants and monarch butterflies.

"(Y/N), as much as I hate to interrupt your fascinating lesson, we should start heading out. We have a dinner reservation," Spencer said apologetically, a hint of regret in his tone.

Startled by the mention of dinner, (Y/N) straightened up, her eyes widening in surprise before a sheepish smile crossed her face. "Oh gosh, I completely lost track of time! I'm so sorry, Spencer. Let's go."

They hurried through the Butterfly Pavilion, their steps quickening as they made their way to the exit. Spencer opened the passenger door for her as they approached his car, and they soon found themselves seated inside as Spencer started the engine. The warmth of the setting sun bathed the interior in a golden glow, casting long shadows across (Y/N)'s face as she fastened her seatbelt. She glanced over at Spencer, her eyes shining with a mix of excitement and anticipation for the evening ahead.

The drive to the Italian restaurant was filled with comfortable silence, the only sound the soft hum of the radio playing a mellow jazz tune in the background. Spencer stole glances at (Y/N) from time to time, admiring how the fading light accentuated her features, casting her in a soft, ethereal glow.

Arriving at the restaurant, they were greeted by the tantalizing aroma of garlic and tomato sauce wafting through the air. The cozy ambiance of the place enveloped them as they were led to their table, nestled in a corner with a flickering candle casting dancing shadows on their faces.

As they perused the menu, (Y/N)'s eyes widened in delight as she scanned the offerings, her excitement palpable. Spencer couldn't help but smile at her enthusiasm, feeling a warmth in his chest that had nothing to do with the romantic candlelight surrounding them. This moment, this simple act of sharing a meal with her, felt like a glimpse into the life he had always wanted but never dared to reach for.

Their conversation flowed effortlessly, filled with laughter and shared stories. (Y/N)'s eyes sparkled with joy as she recounted a hilarious mishap at work, and Spencer found himself hanging onto her every word once again. It was moments like these that made him forget about his own worries and fears, immersing himself in the present moment.

As the waiter brought out their food, the table was soon filled with plates of steaming pasta and fragrant sauces. The first bite sent a burst of flavors dancing on (Y/N)'s tongue, and she couldn't help but close her eyes in bliss. Spencer watched her savor each mouthful, her expression a symphony of delight and contentment. The flickering candlelight played on her face, accentuating the curve of her smile and the sparkle in her eyes.

Spencer's gaze lingered on her, a sense of longing tugging at his heart. He wanted to freeze this moment in time, to etch it into his memory forever. The warmth of the restaurant, the soft glow of the candle, the sound of (Y/N)'s laughter – all of it wove together into a tapestry of perfect happiness.

But beneath the surface of their shared joy, Spencer felt a pang of bittersweet realization. This was just a moment, a fleeting interlude in their lives. Tomorrow, they would return to their separate paths, their separate dreams.

As (Y/N) reached for her glass of wine, her hand brushed against his, sending a jolt of electricity through him. Their eyes met, and in that brief moment of connection, Spencer felt a surge of courage wash over him. As they finished their meals, the waiter returned to their table with a flourish, presenting a tray of decadent desserts that Spencer had secretly ordered while (Y/N) was in the bathroom. A smile played on his lips as he watched her eyes widen in surprise and delight at the unexpected treat.

"Spencer, you didn't have to do this," she murmured, her voice soft with gratitude.

"It's my pleasure," he replied, his tone gentle yet tinged with a hint of nervousness. "Would you like to enjoy it here or take it to go and eat it while watching something?"

(Y/N) hesitated for a moment, her gaze flickering between the cozy restaurant ambiance and the promise of a quiet moment elsewhere. After a brief pause, she decided, "Let's take it to go."

Spencer nodded in agreement and politely requested the bill. As he settled the payment, a sense of resolve settled in him, guiding his actions as they left the restaurant. The cool night air caressed their skin as they walked towards Spencer's car parked just around the corner. He opened the passenger door for her, a gesture that was both chivalrous and intimate.

As they drove through the city streets, (Y/N) couldn't shake off the feeling of curiosity that gnawed at her mind. Why were they headed to Spencer's apartment instead of hers, as she had anticipated? Her thoughts raced, trying to find an explanation for this unexpected turn of events.

Upon arriving at his apartment building, Spencer handed her the to-go boxes with their desserts before unlocking the door. A sense of bewilderment washed over (Y/N) as she followed him inside. Before she could voice her confusion, Spencer moved behind her and gently covered her eyes with his hands, guiding her further into his apartment.

The faint scent of his cologne lingered in the air as (Y/N) let herself be led by Spencer through the dimly lit hallway. Her heart raced with a mix of anticipation and curiosity, her trust in him unwavering as he guided her with careful steps. The soft shuffle of their feet echoed in the corridor, creating a rhythm that seemed to match the beat of her own pulse.

After what felt like an eternity of darkness behind her closed eyelids, Spencer's hands finally left (Y/N)'s eyes, revealing a mesmerizing sight before her. As she blinked away the temporary blindness, a gasp escaped her lips at the magical scene that unfolded in front of her.

The room was transformed into a whimsical wonderland – an elaborate pillow fort stretched across the space, twinkling with fairy lights that cast a warm, inviting glow. Soft blankets cascaded down like waterfalls, creating nooks and crannies that held the promise of cozy comfort. The air was scented with old books, eucalyptus, and lavender, adding to the ethereal atmosphere that surrounded them.

Spencer watched (Y/N) with bated breath as she took in the sight before her. The flickering lights danced across her face, illuminating the awe and wonder reflected in her eyes. It was a moment frozen in time, suspended between reality and a dream.

"Happy birthday, (Y/N)," Spencer's voice was barely a whisper, filled with a vulnerability that he had never dared to show before.

Tears welled up in (Y/N)'s eyes, moved by the effort and thoughtfulness he had put into creating this enchanting surprise. She turned to face him, her heart overflowing with emotions she struggled to put into words.

"Spencer, this is... it's perfect," she finally managed to say, her voice trembling with emotion. She reached out to grasp his hand, holding onto it as though afraid this magical moment would slip away if she let go.

As they settled into the cocoon of blankets and pillows, Spencer grabbed his laptop from his desk and popped a DVD into the disc player. The opening to a movie he had never seen but had heard her talk about multiple times, Clueless, played in the background but all he could do was look at her. Under the twinkling of the fairy lights he could almost swear she had to be a fairy herself. That’s the only thing he could think of that would explain her beauty.

As the movie played on (Y/N) explained to Spencer that it was actually an adaptation of her favorite novel by Jane Austen, Emma, which did little to make him feel the main character was more likeable but watching her happily chatter about the movie filled him with a sense of comfort and affection. This is how it should always be, he thought to himself, wrapping his arms around her as she settled against his chest.

They sat and cuddled in a comfortable silence until it was broken by her voice, soft and timid as she said, “hey Spence?”

“Hm?” He hummed into her hair, his eyes closed.

“Why did you do all of this?” She queried, sounding like she was on the verge of tears, which immediately pulled Spencer from his half asleep haze.

Spencer thought about his next words carefully, taking so long that (Y/N) was about to ask if he had fallen asleep before he finally responded. “After seeing you so heartbroken last night and seeing how Warren just tossed you aside like you didn’t matter I just felt like I should show you how much it means to me that you exist." His voice was gentle, barely a whisper as he confessed the depth of his feelings for her.

(Y/N) felt her breath catch in her throat at his words. The vulnerability in his voice touched her heart in a way she had never experienced before. She turned to look into his eyes, seeing the sincerity and care reflected back at her.

Tears glistened in her eyes as she reflexively leaned into his hand as he reached to cup her cheek, caressing it with a tenderness that spoke volumes. "Spencer," she murmured, her voice filled with emotion, "you didn’t have to—I’m not worth all this—I-I don’t—"

He placed a finger on her lips, silencing her words. "That’s what I’ve spent all day trying to show you, (Y/N). You are worth it. You are worth everything to me," he whispered, his gaze unwavering.

In that moment, (Y/N) felt a rush of emotions swell within her, a mix of disbelief and overwhelming gratitude. Her heart pounded in her chest as she gazed into Spencer's eyes, seeing a depth of love and sincerity that she had never expected to find. The weight of his words hung heavy in the air, wrapping around them like a warm embrace.

As they sat there, suspended in time, (Y/N) felt a gentle tug at her heart urging her to lean forward. She hesitated for a moment, uncertainty clouding her mind as she debated the implications of such a gesture. Could she allow herself to be vulnerable again after everything she had been through? Was it worth risking her heart for the possibility of something more?

But before she could overthink it any further, Spencer's gaze softened even more as he leaned in towards her. In the briefest moment of hesitation, his lips hovered centimeters away from hers, silently asking for permission. And just as he began to pull back, (Y/N) plunged forward, closing the distance between them as she pressed her lips against Spencer's. It was a tender, tentative kiss filled with all the unspoken words and emotions that had lingered between them for so long. The world seemed to stand still as they shared this intimate moment, their hearts beating in harmony.

Spencer was momentarily stunned by the sudden turn of events, but as he felt (Y/N)'s warmth against his lips, all doubts and insecurities melted away. When they finally pulled away, they were both met with flushed cheeks and wide eyes. There was a charged energy in the air, a newfound connection that sparked between them like a flame igniting in the darkness.

"(Y/N)," Spencer whispered, his voice barely above a breath as he searched her eyes for confirmation.

(Y/N) simply smiled, a radiant expression that lit up her face with joy and relief. “I love you, Spencer,” falls from her lips before she crashes them back against his.

[xofeno]

JESSE LEE SOFFER +opening credits FBI: International / Season 4, Episodes 1-3

[imjustwritingg]

I can’t stop giggling over this, but it also makes me wonder what kinda guy Wes is if his girlfriend automatically assumes the worst… 😅

FBI: International - Season 4 Premiere Sneak Peek via CBS

[sweatervest-obsessed]

To Make Sure I Stay Sane

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

WC: ~4k

TW: Blood, Torture, swearing, guns, police, violence, knives, trauma, slight ptsd but horrible coping mechanisms, mental illness, depression, ANGST.

A/N: I'm picturing season 4 Spence but y'all can picture whichever one you want. Inspired by Six Below by Flipturn! I thought y'all deserved an extra Spencer bit since I made you wait so long for the last one. A sweet treat if you will. Enjoy babes!!

I am a man on the run Running on two empty lungs Running from my own mind And things I hide inside Some call it sweet temptation

Only a handful of people get the extreme privilege of having their cover blown by the FBI, specifically the BAU, and even more specifically, Derek Fucking Morgan. 

If he had followed orders, and kept his mouth in line, then maybe this would have turned out better, maybe you’d be back in your house, checked in with your handler, and able to sleep for another night. But no. He pulls you over in the middle of the bar you worked at, and regardless of how hard you tried to get away from him, your efforts were ignored. He then ambushed you in the parking lot, trying to get you to listen. Talking to a fed could get you killed, and you were about to face that fear.

Freezers are quite comfortable when you’ve worked in the restaurant industry for long enough, but something about the way the mold perfumed the air in this one really seemed to bug the shit out of you. 

You had been trying to keep track–maybe 36 hours— of how long you had been tied to this chair. You’ve only seen three people, but considering you had seen so many places struggling for able bodies, having three goons to rotate watch on someone was very impressive to you. If you weren’t tied to the chair, and not an undercover fed, and it was a different life, maybe that third one would have been your type. 

Your thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the freezer squeaking open, and a woman walked in.

“Safya…”

“Alice.” She nodded, pulling up a chair across from you. The slightly attractive goon left the room, closing the freezer door behind him.

“You know why you’re here…”

You shook your head. “No I–”

“--I’ll let you know when you can speak and defend yourself, yes?”

You nodded and she continued. “Now. I was told you had been speaking to the same FBI agent who’s been pushing doors open that should stay closed. Is this true?”

“Yes.” You whispered. 

“And what did he ask you?”

“About y-you, and about what you and I-I had been, um, doing together.” You licked your lips, trying to speed up your breathing–maybe you should have become an actress, and then all of this could be stopped with a simple shout from a director hiding behind some hidden cameras. 

“And what did you say exactly?” The gun on her thigh flashed as she leaned forward, catching the reflection of the singular light. 

“I told him I only knew you as a customer.” You looked at her, telling the honest to god truth. “That you we-were one of my regulars, and that was it. W-whatever your business is, is-is-isn’t my business.” 

She nodded. “Good good. It’s such a shame really…”

Your eyes widened. “W-what?” 

“Because I know you’re telling the truth. But if he was suspecting you, that means I have to let you go…” 

“Saf please, I-I-I’ll keep my mouth shut, I-’ll Never–”

“Stop.” You closed your mouth, panicking outwardly as you internally tried to come up with some sort of escape plan, or at least some way to tell your cat how much you were going to miss him. “You have three hours once I let you go, to disappear. Understood? If I so much as hear that you’re back, it’s over. Clear?” 

You nodded, suddenly formulating a completely different plan. If she watched you get into an unmarked van when you got out, you’d be fucked, completely. And you’d be jeopardizing the mission. 

So now, instead of getting to do your job, you had to change everything about yourself, and go into hiding without letting anyone know for at least a month, doing your best to let the investigation continue without you.

So that’s what you did. Packed up everything into a small suitcase, gave your cat of three years to the girl on the corner, and picked up your last paycheck, before disappearing to god knows where. Running away.  

Sometimes I don't trust myself Cameras on old empty shelves I live inside my brain To make sure I stay sane Good God, I think I need help

You had been fine, really, a month in some small town in the middle of Georgia, nowhere really. You had never been there before, but truthfully it was very peaceful, and across the country from your assignment. You had been there for only a month before Derek Morgan showed up at your door. 

You were in biker shorts, a large sweater for a top–very Princess Diana of you. It was slightly colder, since it was now March, but you weren’t up in the mountains, allowing you to have some sort of reprieve from the freezing winters you used to live with. 

Opening the door made you mad. You were glaring at him, and a man who seemed to be his partner. 

“You need to leave. Now.” You tried to slam the door, but Derek was quicker than you were, pushing the door open causing you to stumble back. Once the two of them were in your house, you quickly shut the door. The blinds and windows were never opened anyways, and the entrances and exits were all locked, save for the front door. 

“Listen here you motherfucker. Do you know how much you’ve ruined my life?! Because I could fucking tear you apart with my bare tee–”

“Woah, woah, calm down there Agent.”

His partner watched as you flinched at the title, having not heard it in over a month. 

“I don’t think you understand. If I’m seen with you here, I’m dead. Three years of my life, down the drain because you couldn’t take no for an answer. Not very consentual of you Derek. Get out of my house.”

His partner spoke up. “Don’t you want to know why we’re here?” 

“Not really, no.” 

“I’m sorry Agent Morgan blew your cover.” said the skinnier of the two, but you didn’t look at him, still glaring at the Agent in question. 

“Thank you so much. That makes everything sooo much better.” 

“We want to put you in protective custody.” 

That got you to tear your eyes away from Derek and look at the other agent. “I’m sorry, who are you?” 

“I-I-I’m Doctor Spencer, uh, Reid.” You raised an eyebrow, curious about his sudden stutter, his sudden nervousness. 

“What, are you not sure?” 

“N-No–Yes, I mean.” He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Something about flustering Doctor Reid made him seem incredibly endearing, almost cute. But if this was some other life, you meeting him could have been different and under much better circumstances.

“I’m sure that’s my name.” He mumbled, causing Derek to snort at Reid’s inability to look at you again. 

“You think that’s funny Derek? Ruining other people’s day to feel tough?” You crossed your arms, lips pursed, ready to deck this guy in the face. 

“Okay sweetheart—”

Before he could finish even his thought, you had him pinned down on the ground: face down, ass up. His arm was out straight behind him while you had a death grip on his wrist. Your knee was on his back, holding him in place as you whispered in his ear. “Call me sweetheart again and I won’t stop at just the arm lock. We clear?” 

Derek let out a groan and tried to shift under you, but you dug your knee a little further into the point between his shoulder blades. “What was that Agent Morgan?” 

“yes–Yes! Okay, jesus.” He grumbled, sighing in relief as you got off of him, looking over at Spencer. 

“Would you like something to drink, Doctor Reid? I have tea or coffee…water?” 

Spencer was simply dazed with the way you switched between agent and yourself, it was surely some skill you had to pick up while being in deep cover for three years. 

“Spencer?” 

“Y-Yes, sorry. Water would, uh, water would be good. Thank you.” 

That’s when you killed him, stopping his heart in one simple motion. 

It wasn’t even a full one, but the corner of your mouth lifted up, providing him with a glimpse of a genuine smile, a crack in the stone cold facade you placed to protect yourself. He smiled back as Derek got up, rubbing his wrist and grumbling in pain. 

“I assume you like black coffee Agent Morgan.” you called from the kitchen, to which all you got was a grumbled “yes, please.” followed by what seemed like a laugh from Reid. 

Spencer looked around the bare walls, the bare furniture. There were pictures around, sure, but they were of places you had visited, or at least pretended to. There was only one photo frame with a picture of yourself, and based on the edges, he could tell it was folded. From far away it seemed to be just a picture of you; your family hiding in plain sight. 

He picked up the image and tried to determine how old you were. All he knew was that this photo was taken at some sort of wedding. You were laughing, smiling, dancing. 

“I don’t know why I keep that picture anymore.” You spoke softly from the kitchen doorway. “Maybe it’s to remind me that I’m not just an echo of who I was before cover, ya know? I feel like I have to close her off sometimes.” You placed the mug down on the coffee table in front of Derek, along with a packet of sugar. (Derek was astonished that you had managed to deduce that about him). You also placed Spencer’s water down on the coffee table, sitting on the ottoman that was in front of the couch. “Sometimes I don’t trust myself. Feel like I have to keep her with me to make sure I stay sane. Like I constantly have to remind myself that I’m doing this bullshit for a reason.”

“That’s why we’re here.” 

You nodded at Derek, flashing a quick, but hard, smile in his direction. 

“You mentioned Witness Protection?” 

But they say: "oh to be young" Innocent of what's to come

Witness Protection felt like a fucking joke. They had moved you to D.C. so that your favorite, and least favorite, FBI Agents could keep an eye on you. They would check in periodically, calling you from across the same park, walking past you on the street, it was bullshit really. And they had these two idiot, beat cops staying outside of your house each night, with a second undercover bodyguard who followed you around no matter where you went. 

Suddenly you were more paranoid than before because now you knew people were watching you. Just because they claimed to be the good guys didn’t ease any sort of panic you felt. 

Good was subjective. Good for who?

But It was lonely. You were bored. 

You were young. You were hot. You wanted to go out. 

Obviously this was immediately vetoed by your favorite FBI agent, who was no longer your favorite at the moment. 

“You’re ridiculous if you think you’re losing your tail and sneaking off to a club. That is so unsafe Y/N. Do you even know how many people get kidnapped from clubs, especially women? It’s the perfect hunting grounds for rapists and killers and—”

“So come with me.” You bit the side of your cheek, trying not to smile too heavily at yourself in the mirror as you continued to fix up your hair. 

“Absolutely not.” 

“Why not? You get to personally guarantee my safety, plus, you don’t have to drink. You can just be my chaperone. Please Spencer! I haven’t been allowed to go out for the past three and a half years.” 

You continued on when he started to protest again. “I’m going out Spence. Whether you come is completely up to you.” 

You took his prolonged silence as a victory. “Pick me up at 9 then Lover Boy.” You went to hang up the phone before quickly throwing in a “No sweater vests!”

Oh, to be beautiful, each mistake excusable Give into sweet temptation

Somewhere in between the phone calls and the quick brushes past one another, you had fallen for Spencer. The attention to detail, the way he knew everything under the sun and yet nothing at all, the way he would swipe his hand over yours as he sat on a park bench next to you, two companions posing as strangers. 

He would tell you the most fantastical stories, most of which came from what his mother used to read to him. Listening to the way he spoke, the way he would ramble on about anything you could possibly image. You could hear him sighing now, fantasizing about the night to come, the date you had set up for the both of you. He was never one to make the first move.

Which is why you suddenly became nervous at the idea of Spencer seeing you like this. Party girl outfit, hair done, makeup perfectly executed, tits out. Was this who you even were? What if Spencer saw you dressed like this and realized you were just some regular girl, and not this person he had been talking to for the past six months.

It’s not like you had time to change, considering there was knocking at your door, causing you to quickly exit the bedroom and open the door. 

 You barely had time to register who it was before a cloth was pressed over your mouth, and suddenly the world was black. 

So, tell me what do I do? Am I just playing a fool? That never learned to grow old And still has no self-control

Warm. It was too warm. Your eyelids were heavy, and you couldn’t bring yourself to open them just yet, but it felt like you were back in the southwest. Your wrists tried to circle, but failed stunningly considering they were zip tied behind your back on whatever shitty wooden chair you were stuck on. 

“She’s alive!” goosebumps. Your body entered fight or flight mode, immediately causing your eyes to pop open, squinting until they adjusted to the shitty lighting. 

“Safya.” You mumbled. “Long time, no see.” 

“You look so good dearest. What were your plans? Night on the town with that sweet Doctor?” 

You didn’t react, only looking straight ahead at her, mentally preparing yourself for whatever she was about to throw at you. 

“Don’t worry Y/N, we’ll get you to talk soon enough. You had to have assumed we would find you, I mean really. How foolish did you become? And lacking in such self control–it’s embarrassing.” 

You felt your entire world crumble, dissolve into nothingness. But your face stayed motionless, betraying nothing. All you could do was hope that Spencer was not far behind them, dealing with whatever it was that you had managed to get yourself into. 

I know what everybody knows Die young or you can grow old Until they bury you six below

There was a joke you had with your dad growing up: “Die a hero, or live long enough to see yourself become the villain.” He would crack that joke at you when you would shit on his old people music or when he would take away your phone because you were grounded. 

Part of you had never fully understood the meaning of the phrase until tonight. 

Your face was pristine, not a scar on it. 

The rest of your body? The same could not be said. 

It ached. You were exhausted. And somehow you barely remembered any of it, just knowing that sometimes she would use knives, other times you wouldn’t be so lucky. 

So when she placed the gun against your head, standing off against the BAU, you finally got it. The trauma, the scars, the emotional devastation. 

Even worse, you sighed out of relief when she did.

She had spent over thirty hours torturing you, except you had no idea of what day it even was, considering you were halfway here, mind retreating in on itself.

You had been investigating Safya for her innate tortures of those close to her–it’s why you were undercover in the first place. The deaths surrounding her were all genuine suicides, she would never touch them after they were released from the warehouse. But their tragic end was posted in the morning edition several days later. 

“It’s over.” You heard some man’s voice call out. It was stern. It sounded authoritative. If you wanted to open your eyes, you would’ve watched as the agents attempted to distract the woman, holding you tightly against her own body. 

It felt nice to stand after so long, your legs barely supporting you. The stinging sensation of the cuts and burns melded with the sensation of your legs waking up. Your mind was enjoying the feeling. Some sort of fucked up post-torture torture, enjoying the fact that you could still feel your legs. 

People were talking across you, but all you could do was fall into your mind further. This was a win-win for you. Safya shoots you, and boom–dead. Safya doesn’t surrender, and the likelihood of you being in the firing range, boom—dead. At least you’d be able to rest then, finally able to let the ache in your bones, in your mind rest. 

But then you heard his voice. 

That same voice that had kept you sane while you were hiding away from the world. The same voice that provided the only routine you were allowed. The same voice that talked to you from sundown to sun up, letting you relish in the knowledge he carried with him.

Spencer.

It was somehow still soft, but you could tell he was very serious at the moment. You aren’t sure what he said, but you started to laugh. It started small, your mouth twitching and laughing through your nose, but it grew and grew, until suddenly you were almost doubled over in laughter. 

The entire room was silent, except for the sound of you losing your mind. 

Safya released her hold on you, letting you drop to the floor, a small smirk across her face as the gun clattered to the ground. 

What a sight you must’ve been, barely holding your chest up with your arms, laughing maniacally into the ground. 

She had broken you. 

The smirk didn’t leave her face as SSA Derek Morgan roughly placed cuffs on her wrists and shoved her out of the warehouse. 

Your laughing didn’t stop for another whole minute. And Spencer waited. He sat next to you as your laughs slowly turned into sobs and your whole body collapsed into him. Your blood was all over the floor, all over the tools on the table she had, all over you. But he didn’t care. 

He just held you as you cried and cried into him, eventually willing to let the EMTs take a look at you, on the condition that Spencer held your hand the entire time. 

Once you were out of the warehouse, and stuck snugly in the back of a large, black SUV, Spencer beside you, you leaned your head against the window. There was no recognition as cars passed by, no jumping when horns blared, you just sat still, mind far off. 

Spencer held your hand the entire ride, but it didn’t feel like enough to bring that girl back you once knew. It didn’t feel like living was worth anything now that she had disappeared from your view. 

You saw the photo burn in your mind, watching as the flames consumed your smile, leaving you with nothing but a pile of ash and the pieces of a mind that might not ever be placed back together again. 

So you lived, but at what cost? 

Live long enough to tell your sons Things you learned when you were young So maybe I can have some self-control

Years later, you would sit in your new apartment, watching the sunset with a mug in your hands and a blanket around your arms. You unconsciously ran a hand up and down your thigh, feeling the healed marks and the scars that added texture in a place that should have felt smooth. 

Something in the sky told you the day would not stay as beautiful as it had started. Your phone beeped, a message from Spencer. 

He checked in with you every night he wasn’t home with you, letting you know he was okay, letting you know he was coming home to you. You quickly sent a text back, telling him you were excited for him to return tomorrow. 

You heard the footsteps before you saw the person they belonged to. Your name was said softly as you placed your phone down on the counter, picking up the little boy, who was still half asleep, wrapped in his dinosaur pajamas and dinosaur blanket. 

“What’s up bud.” You whispered, trying your best at the moment, considering your mind was somewhere far far away. 

What he ended up mumbling out was some varying words that eventually amalgamated to the fact that he couldn’t sleep. 

You nodded and kissed his head. “Want a story?” 

You felt his head nod as he curled into you, not three years old and still so small. You picked him up, carrying him back to his room, and placing him in his bed. You adjusted his nightlight, before picking up one of the thousands of books Spencer had gotten for your son. 

Once he was sound asleep, you placed a soft kiss on the crown on his head, and slowly snuck out of the room, leaving the door open a crack in case that story ended up not sufficing. 

You heard your phone go off, quietly running to pick it up before your child woke up again. 

“Hello?”

“She’s escaped” 

The exhale you let out was a shaky one. 

Spencer had been there to hand you piece after piece as you slowly placed yourself together again. He was there when you screamed in the middle of the night, and he was there when your eyes would flare dangerously with something more than hatred for the woman who had caused you such grief. You still barely wore skirts or shorts, opting to cover every inch you could whenever possible. Spencer watched as you struggled to stay put, mind wandering as far as it could. 

“Y/N?”

“Sorry. Sorry. Just…”

“I know. Spencer is flying home as we speak. I still wanted to call and let you know before hand. Just, uh…You know.” 

“Thanks Derek. I’ll see you soon.” 

It felt wicked. The smile that spreads across your face. And it felt even more devious when you pulled the bottle of champagne off of the shelf it was so beautifully perched on, waiting for a special occasion to pop its cork. 

You didn’t even grab a glass as you looked in the mirror, barely recognizing the person staring back at you. You toasted to yourself, swinging out of the bottle, enjoying as the bubbles slid down your throat as you pulled a chair out into the hallway. You unlocked the top cabinet above the fridge where your son could never reach, and pulled out the gun you used all those years ago. 

Sitting in front of the only door in or out, all windows locked. Your safety was off, and the champagne made you feel invincible as you stared at the door, just waiting for her to knock on your door again, giving you the satisfaction of the opportunity to hurt her the same way she had hurt you. 

Self control had never been your strong suit anyways. 

Live long enough to tell your sons Things you learned when you were young So maybe I can have some self-control

[a-little-bit-of-tradition]

FBI Franchise's Joint Trailer Features First Look at Chicago P.D. Alum Jesse Lee Soffer in FBI: International (Exclusive)

"I can't wait for you all to meet him," Soffer tells PEOPLE in an exclusive statement of his character Wes Mitchell

PEOPLE can exclusively premiere the first trailer for the all-new seasons of FBI, FBI: International and FBI: Most Wanted — as well as the first look at Jesse Lee Soffer, who joins FBI: International as Supervisory Special Agent Wesley “Wes” Mitchell.

The trailer sees the bureau's teams in Budapest (FBI: International's Fly Team), New York (FBI) and the Fugitive Task Force (FBI: Most Wanted) as they tackle emergencies all around the world.

Soffer, 40, tells PEOPLE he's "very excited to join FBI: International and for the fans to meet the team’s newest member, Wesley (Wes) Mitchell."

Describing his character, the Chicago P.D. alum says, "Wes is smart, doesn’t take himself too seriously but always strives for justice, no matter the obstacle. I can’t wait for you all to meet him. And the bonus for me is getting to learn some Hungarian along the way. Jo moka lesz ;)."

Season 4 of FBI: International will see the elite operatives behind the International Fly Team as they "travel throughout Europe with the mission of tracking and neutralizing threats against American citizens wherever they may be, putting their lives on the line to protect the U.S. and its people," per an official description.

Soffer's character, the "charming and rakish" Wes Mitchell, has "impeccable instincts and unconventional tactics," which "deepen his drive to stop at nothing to achieve justice."

The Fly Team is also comprised of Special Agent Andre Raines (Carter Redwood), Special Agent Cameron Vo (Vinessa Vidotto), Megan “Smitty” Garretson (Eva Jane Willis) and Special Agent Amanda Tate (Christina Wolfe).

Station 19 alum Jay Hayden is also a newcomer to the procedural and will appear as Agent Tyler Booth in the latter part of the upcoming season.

[okay-j-hannah]

Episode 5: The Unknown Subject

Doctor Who : Multishot

Eleventh Doctor x Reader

Word Count: 3413

Warnings: some gunshots. some blood. some violence. some virus warfare. some of the oncoming storm. River taking matters into her own hands... inspiration and some lines came from Criminal Minds Season 4 Episode 24 “Amplification.” 

Request: This just came from my own head 😊

A/N: A skilled team of FBI tactical profilers analyze the country’s most prevalent oncoming disasters, anticipating the criminal mind’s next moves before they can inflict doomsday.

Episode 4: The New Heir

Episode 5: The Unknown Subject {You Are Here}

Episode 6: Dr. Smith

The DAU was overrun with representatives of all international governments. The army was instructing team members under the FBI and CIA to form search parties abroad in each country. Agents were conversing with contacts across seas as they tried to get everyone on the same page about the suspect.

SSA Smith was in the conference room having a heated discussion with other leaders and officials. They could all see him fuming behind the glass walls.

Jack was leaning into Donna, muttering some theories about where they were going to be stationed next. “I heard the professor was last seen in France.”

“She crossed the border after the stunt in London,” Donna agreed, readjusting her blazer as new agents caught her eye. “I think John’s talking to the Prime Minister and the president of France.”

Rory was sitting at his desk, glasses pushed up his nose, “He’s been tense.”

(Y/N) agreed, folding her arms and standing next to the rest of her team. The Doctor had been avoiding her as of late. He had become this hardened, cold-shouldered character since the last reality.

It was hard to associate him with her Doctor. He was so dark and strict and to-the-point. But she could see the split second of recognition in his green eyes when he looked at her.

He still looked at her with fondness.

“You think the professor will cook up some new disease?” Donna asked rather morbidly, “After we traced the last one?”

“Well, with the CDC already synthesizing a cure after the last attack,” Rory said, “I wouldn’t be surprised if she tried to create a 2.0 version to throw us through a loop.”

Jack nodded towards the conference room, “Look. He’s calling us in. Time for another debriefing.”

The team walked determinedly through the crowds of agents and military personnel, climbing the ramp to get to their seats.

The Doctor had his arms folded, already introducing their guest before they all sat down.

“Hello everyone, this is Dr. Martha Jones, chief of special pathogens with the CDC.”

(Y/N) nodded to the woman she recognized as a past companion of the Doctor. But the Martha here didn’t know her – she just looked worried with a light sheen of sweat on her forehead.

“Hello, I’m sorry to meet under these circumstances,” Martha said. “The target, Professor River Song, has been developing an unknowable strain of virus capable to compete with our most deadly naturally occurring viruses.”

“She’s already tried that,” Jack said, “We’re creating a cure, aren’t we?”

The Doctor frowned, “She’s struck again with an entirely new strain – in Lyon, France.”

“Oh my god,” Donna whispered.

“Last night, 47 people checked into hospitals with similar symptoms,” Martha began, “And by this morning 22 of those people have died.”

Jack took a seat, “Damn.” He set his jaw, “Were you able to detect the virus?”

“Yes,” Martha said, “Disease control centers across the world have taken samples and are working around the clock to create a new cure.”

“In the meantime,” the Doctor said, “We have to apprehend the professor before she strikes again. We have reason to believe she’s entered the United States. She may have been spotted at the Hartsfield-Jackson Atlanta International Airport in Georgia.”

Rory piped up, “But she didn’t attack the airport?”

“No,” said Martha.

“Then what are we doing about other potential mass targets?” Rory continued, “Malls, trains, subways?”

The Doctor sighed, “There’s a media blackout. We can’t tell the public.”

“There’d be a mass exodus,” Jack nodded in agreement, “The panic would end up killing more people.”

“We’re heading to Georgia,” the Doctor said, “Wheels up in five. Thank you Dr. Jones.”

Martha nodded to him, “I’ll be your direct contact for the cure. I’ll let you know of any developments.”

The team all stood and made for the elevators to pack for their coming trip. Martha followed to converse with the military scientists outside. (Y/N) remained behind with the Doctor, anxiously waiting for him to look at her.

“Doctor,” she said cautiously, “Are you okay?”

It looked like he was hardly breathing, “Perfectly fine.”

“You don’t sound like yourself,” she continued, “I can tell you’re upset.”

“Why would I be upset?” he said lowly, “I only learned that a close friend of mine wants to kill you.”

He went to exit the conference room, but (Y/N) stepped in front of the door.

“I wasn’t going to die.”

“Yes,” he said darkly, his voice deep and angered, “You would’ve.”

“But not in reality. Not in our true reality,” she pressed, “This is a dream, Doctor – you know that.”

“How can you be so sure dying in here doesn’t mean you’ll die in real life?” he asked, brow furrowed.

Gone was his dancing fingers and giddy steps. Gone was his childlike smile and eccentric movements. He was tall and cold and angry.

“I trust River,” she said quietly, “Her logic is sound.”

“But unproven,” he said, “We don’t know what’s keeping us here. It could be dangerous to wake up. There has to be another way.”

There was the strange tingle of anticipation growing. The dream was about to zap them to the next scene. They had been off script for too long.

“This isn’t up for debate, (Y/N),” he said.

She hated the way he looked at her like he couldn’t fully see her. He was clouded by the storm that had developed and resided within him. The Oncoming Storm.

Something sparked in her stomach. The reason he became like this was because she almost died. Because he cared about her so much he was willing to do anything to keep her safe.

~~~

(Y/N) was suddenly sitting in a booth in a local Georgia café. Across from her was Jack, sipping a massive chocolate milkshake.

It seemed like a more Jack thing to do rather than this FBI agent character. It almost made her smile.

“You sure you don’t want some?” he asked, biting off the candied cherry.

She slumped into the booth, “I’m okay, thanks.” She looked around to see if any of the other team members were there. “I wouldn’t want to spill on my suit.”

Jack looked amused, “And you think I will? Am I a messy eater?”

“The worst,” she snickered. But her mind was still clouded with the interaction with the Doctor. He had looked so angry.

“You’re thinking about him, aren’t you?” Jack said, swirling his straw around. “Don’t be coy, I know that look.”

She gave a nervous smile, “John?” The scripted lines came out of her easily while her mind dwelled on the dilemma at hand. “We had an argument.”

“Obviously,” Jack said with rolling eyes, “We all saw you in the conference room. He’s just worried about you is all.”

“I know, and it’s infuriating.”

Jack sighed, “You had a close call last case – you almost died.” He contemplated his next sentence for a second, “I think Smith realized that it was possible to lose you.”

“That was always a possibility.”

“But he got a taste of it,” Jack leaned in, putting emphasis on his words, “He had a taste of those feelings – of that loss – and it terrified him.”

(Y/N) could feel her heart snap into motion. It might’ve been a script, but what Jack was saying made total sense to the Doctor as well.

There had been a pattern to all of these dreams. And she was starting to see it.

“You’re making it sound like…”

Jack clicked his tongue, “Like he’s in love with you?” He grinned, “That’s because he is.”

Every dream had a theme of getting the Doctor and (Y/N) together. In the New York apartment there was the tender moment they shared in the coffeehouse. In the fantasy realm he rescued her from an arranged marriage – had said I love you to each other. In the old English estate they were prompted to be friendly with one another in hopes of an eventual marriage.

There had never been a spoken word between them about being anything more than friends, than companions. Sure there had been initial attraction but it was quickly set aside when it was evident the Doctor wasn’t interested.

Or was he.

Perhaps (Y/N) had been blinded by her own efforts to avoid greater feelings. It made traveling with him easier. If she had developed true love with him then the entire companionship would be at risk of falling apart.

But as Jack started rambling on about the evidence he had gathered on why John was in love with her, she continued to connect dots.

These dreams were tailored to the Doctor.

When he wanted to catch River Song for what she did, the dream state changed into a reality where that was plausible. It was set in a crime drama where they caught bad guys.

Somehow the Doctor was in charge. He might not even realize it.

“I’ve completely stumped you, haven’t I?” Jack asked, setting his milkshake aside, “Hard to believe Smith is capable of love, huh.”

“Not entirely.”

Jack looked up quick, “Really?”

(Y/N) shrugged, eyes glazed as she tried to pull herself out of her deep thought. “I don’t know.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen the guy crack a smile, let alone express an ounce of affection.”

She became reminiscent of the Doctor that was the opposite. The one that was all smiles and all doting affection. Was her safety really the reason for him acting so different?

“But I do know that I’ve never seen him more relaxed than when he’s with you,” Jack said with a growing smirk. “You bring out the best in him.”

“And the worst,” she said quietly, “Evidently.”

Jack threw a few dollars on the table, “It’s gotta be nice to be loved that much though.”

She wrung her hands, “We have to go meet Smith and Pond.”

“I’m telling you…” Jack said, leading the way outside and brandishing a pair of sunglasses, “You gotta say something to him. The poor guy is hopeless when it comes to first moves. Trust me, I’ve worked with the guy for years.”

(Y/N) walked alongside him, making sure her firearm and badge were secured at her belt. “I don’t think he’s in the mood for any love confessions.”

“He’s never in the mood,” Jack said with a laugh. He slung his arm around her shoulders, always the light heart. “But if you’re so concerned with why he’s upset, maybe you need to talk about it.”

“I tried this morning,” she grumbled, his bouncing steps infectious.

Jack squeezed her shoulder, “Then you try again. He might not be an easy man. But he’s a good man.”

She wholeheartedly agreed with that statement. The Doctor was a complicated, eccentric genius who made things more difficult than they had to be. But he was also the loveliest, most generous man who gave the best hugs.

And they deserved to get out of there. And (Y/N) had to get through to him somehow – even with him being stuck in this arrogant, gruff character.

She spotted the Doctor and Amy through the windows of the local police station. They seemed to be discussing something as they looked over a city map. Jack led them across the street and towards the entrance.

He gave her a playful wink as they walked into their work room.

“(Y/N),” said Amy, always looking her best in her professional attire. She was usually underestimated by the agents, but always made the looks on their faces all the more amusing when she proved them wrong.

“Have you found anything?” she asked, avoiding a glance in the Doctor’s direction.

Amy shook her head, “We’re waiting on some intel in central Atlanta. Our profile has led us to believe that the professor will plan an attack at the Atlanta History Center.”

The Doctor muttered, “It’s a historical museum. A place she might enjoy.” He flashed his eyes toward (Y/N) and they both dwelled on their archeologist of a friend. River would love old museums.

“What intel are we waiting for?” Jack asked, eyeing their position on the city map.

Amy scrolled through her phone, “They’re verifying that the professor was spotted in the vicinity. Noble and Williams are giving out the profile and monitoring the surveillance.”

“Let’s not start a panic at the museum unless we have to,” the Doctor said, rubbing hard at his face.

“Understood,” Jack said.

But (Y/N) had fixated on the scruff of the Doctor’s jaw. It was so strange to see him like that. He looked older. He looked more tired. He looked… like an adult.

She wanted his little toyshop salesman self to come out and make some childish remark about the taste of custard cream or the boredom of taxes.

“Can I have a moment alone with (Y/N).” The Doctor was still looking away as his colleagues shared looks.

Jack and Amy cleared their throats, sidling out of the room with quick steps.

(Y/N) wrung her hands again, feeling the uneasiness of an unscripted moment.

“Doctor…”

“You’re going to stay here when we go apprehend River Song.”

“Excuse me?” the words became lodged in her throat, “You can’t do that.”

He gave her a heated stare, “I’m not risking you getting hurt.”

“Doctor, how many times do I need to tell you not to worry. This isn’t real. I won’t really get hurt.”

“Did that Spanish flu hurt?” he asked, emotion flaring in his eyes, “Did laying in your sickbed hurt you?”

It did. But she knew there wasn’t any permanent damage. It was just a dream.

“I’ll wake up,” she said quietly, “It would force me awake.”

He gritted his teeth, “And what if it doesn’t?”

“God, I’d risk it, Doctor! We can’t stay stuck in here for the rest of our lives.”

He looked conflicted, “But it hasn’t been so bad, has it? The roles we’ve played.”

“That’s all it is, Doctor. It’s all play. It’s not real. I want to get back to our real lives.”

“You’re real,” he deadpanned, uncharacteristically still as he stood his ground. “You’re enough for me.”

She blanked. Her mind sifted out of her ears as she scrambled to form words. “Doctor… there are more realistic ways to have a life with me. You don’t have to dream one up.”

His shoulders stiffened, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I have a feeling you might.” She took a step forward, “You can’t create some fictional life with me where we play these characters that live normal married human lives.”

“We’ve never been married,” he said quickly.

“I had a feeling the next one might have us be,” she said just as fast. “It shifts to your wants, Doctor. But what you want here… right now – it’s not what I want. I can’t play a character and pretend that I’m happy with all this.”

His fingers started to fidget like they use to on their adventures, “You’re not happy.”

She lightly shook her head. “I want to go home.”

“You’re not happy here with me.” He said it more to himself then to her.

But she quickly cut in, “I’m happy with you on the tardis. I’m happy with you back in our own lives.” Her hands rose to clutch at her chest, “Please, Doctor – this isn’t right. We have to wake up.”

“There has to be another way than dying!” he said, furious again.

There was a whoosh of air and the pair of them were standing outside of a historical building, groups of people running around in a panic.

Their talk of the real world had them flying to the next scene.

They were clad in bullet proof vests, guns poised in their hands. Wires crept up their backs and into their ears. They could hear the rest of their team asking for orders and the whereabouts of Professor River Song.

“No,” the Doctor growled, addressing (Y/N). “You are staying here while I find River.”

“Like hell I am,” she cried back, taking off for the museum.

“(Y/N)!” the Doctor yelled, “It isn’t safe.”

The screams of the bystanders became muted as she searched for their friend. Seeing her here would mean River was sucked into the dream world too. She could no longer manipulate the rules of the dream.

Her feet pounding into the cement, she frantically searched the faces of the crowd. The Doctor was getting lost behind her, being swarmed by the public.

She cried out, “River! River I’m here!” She kept her finger off the trigger, but her gun was still brandished. “River Song!”

Then in the distance she heard a voice cry back, “(Y/N)?”

She flew around, there at the edge of the building was a pile of crazed, curly hair. She had her own gun at her hip.

“How did you get here?” (Y/N) asked, “Did you get pulled in?”

“Unfortunately,” River said, meeting her friend with a hug. “But I can still try to pull us out.”

(Y/N) eyed her gun, “You trying to get back in prison for murdering someone?”

River shrugged, “This is just a nightmare. None of it is real.”

“Feels real,” (Y/N) whispered, staring at the gun, “I suppose that’s what scares you awake.”

The gun was raised and aimed for (Y/N), “That’s the theory.”

“The Doctor’s not so sure.”

“He gets skeptical when it comes to the safety of those he loves.”

“People keep telling me that,” (Y/N) said, holstering her gun.

River took a deep breath, taking aim, “That he worries for your safety?”

“No,” (Y/N) said, “That he loves me.”

“Maybe you should take the hint,” the professor laughed, “This should only sting a little.” Her eyes flickered to behind (Y/N), “Incoming.”

“Hands in the air!” came the voice of Amy, “I said hands up!”

Jack was right behind her, “(Y/N), where is your gun?”

“It’s alright,” she responded over her shoulder, “I’ll see you guys when we wake up.” She gave a nod towards River Song.

She nodded back, firing three gunshots.

Red hot pain ran through (Y/N)’s lower abdomen. Two shots barely clipped the vest, but the third lodged itself near her hipbone, but definitely into her major organs. It was true, the shock and adrenaline that coursed her system made the bullets only slightly hurt.

She was falling to her knees when more shots were fired. In the distance she could see River Song fall to the ground.

The pain was sharp but was growing into something dull and achingly present. A hand pressed to her stomach came back coated in bright blood. The life was beginning to slip between her fingers.

“(Y/N)!” came a cry from above. Rough hands grasped at her body, pulling her in a way that made her wounds flare up.

She cried out, “Stop!” Her fingers were weak where she grabbed at the arms around her. It was hard to see – her vision was blurry. Her ears were full of a buzz.

But it was the Doctor that cradled her now, “What did you do?” he whispered. “What did you do?”

There was a crack in his voice and her heart began to hurt just as much as the rest of her body.

~~~

There was an insistent beeping somewhere next to her. The air smelled sterile and stuffy with disinfectant.

Her fingers picked at the cotton sheets around her. There was something taped to the back of her hand.

Opening her eyes, she spotted the IV drip. After adjusting she noticed the white walls and old machines measuring her heartrate.

She quickly lifted the blankets to look at her abdomen. After a quick inspection she realized that there weren’t any bandages. There was no evidence at all that she was shot just minutes before. Her skin was clear.

“Dammit,” she whispered, her head falling back into the pillows. They had jumped to another reality.

A crash against her windows had her looking for the source.

There, clad in scrubs and white lab coats, was Amy and Rory. The pair of them kissing like they were hungry for their last meal. Pressed against the window they were unabashed as they consumed each other.

(Y/N) rolled her eyes. Great… they were stuck in a medical drama now.

And something else had become evident. The Doctor might have more control over the dream than she realized.

It was apparent that if the Doctor didn’t want to wake up, then (Y/N) wasn’t going to wake up either.

~~~

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[windshield91]

I love seeing the actors in different roles. One Chicago needs to do one of the what-if episodes, let the actors play different roles.

FBI International

3x12& 13... Colin Donnell was a great guest star. The episodes can be watched only as a standalone. ep 13 is top rated, and there's a stunning view from Oslo.

Season 4... Jesse Lee Soffer seems excited to play Wes Mitchell in Ew article.

[ncisfranchise-source]

Eight CBS Original Series Deliver 10 Million Viewers or More in Live Plus 7-Day Multiplatform Viewing

According to VideoAmp live plus 7-day viewership and internal streaming data for episodes airing through Oct. 21, eight CBS Original programs deliver 10 million or more viewers across linear TV and streaming in the 2024 fall broadcast season to date: TRACKER (15.2m), MATLOCK (13.2m), FBI (11.0m), GEORGIE & MANDY’S FIRST MARRIAGE (10.7m), NCIS (10.5m), ELSBETH (10.5m), FIRE COUNTRY (10.3m) and BLUE BLOODS (10.0m).

Three other series generated nearly 9 million or more viewers with seven days of multiplatform viewership: 60 MINUTES (9.3m), SURVIVOR (9.0m) and NCIS: ORIGINS (8.9m).

CBS has eight primetime series posting gains in 7-day multiplatform viewership compared to last season: TRACKER (+18%), MATLOCK (+55%, from ELSBETH last season), ELSBETH (+26%), 48 HOURS (+8%), FIRE COUNTRY (+6%), 60 MINUTES (+2%), GEORGIE & MANDY’S FIRST MARRIAGE (+1% from YOUNG SHELDON last season) and BLUE BLOODS (+1%). So far this season, CBS’ primetime multiplatform audience is up +2% from last season.

CBS series continue to lead in broadcast popularity with the top two non-sports programs: #1 TRACKER and #2 MATLOCK; as well as the #1 comedy GEORGIE & MANDY’S FIRST MARRIAGE. 

Source: Multiplatform: Video Amp Final Data, Live+7, 9/15/24-10/21/24. Season-Ago Video Amp data are Final, Live+7, 9/15/23-4/4/24. CBS and Paramount Global internal data, AMA for first 7 days of FEP on Paramount+ and CBS TVE (CBS.com and CBS app). Streaming Total Viewers includes co-view for CTV viewing. Linear Only: VideoAmp Final Data: 09/23/24-10/19/24, Preliminary Live+7 data: 10/20/24-10/27/24; Year Ago Final Live+7: 09/25/23-10/29/23

[aeshnacyanea2000]

What would an ideal Season 4 of Hannibal look like to you? What plot elements would you like to see? Or do you even want a Season 4?

Thank you so much for this ask!

Do I want Bryan Fuller to get the chance to make a season 4? Honestly, no. As far as canon is concerned, I think the season 3 finale (without the zinger) was the best case scenario for a series finale. It leaves enough room for interpretation, for a variety of scenarios as to what could come next.

If I could magically have exactly the season 4 I dream about? Ooof, that's more complicated. Because I have several ideas for a potential season 4.

There are just three things that are absolute must-haves for any hypothetical season 4 for me:

obviously, Hannibal is still alive

the zinger is not something that actually happened (if it gets referenced at all, then it's a dream sequence)

Bedannibal is endgame (that does not mean there has to be any significant amount of Bedannibal screen time in the season, but it should end with the two of them reunited)

Another thing I'd like to see is the aftermath of what happened, and the consequences for the characters. No convenient time-skip to gloss over the procedural/legal implications. I want to see the full cluster fuck unfold. The scandal, the public outrage, the internal FBI investigation and the politics. The media circus. I want to see Freddie Lounds having the time of her life spinning the story of the murder husbands, of Will Graham freeing Hannibal Lecter.

As for the actual season 4 story arc, or rather potential story arcs, here are some of my ideas:

Murder husbands not so happily ever after:

Hannibal manages to save both himself and Will from the ocean, and gets them away to lick their wounds. He once again forgives Will for his betrayal, and believes that they can now finally have the life he always wanted for them. Will seemingly agrees. But all is not as rosy as Hannibal dreamed it, and real life together proves disappointing. Will may be everything Hannibal hoped for when it comes to being his partner in murder, but he finds him lacking in other areas of their life together. And Will harbors considerable resentment over the failure of his murder-suicide plan. In the end, their happy life implodes, and this time in a terminal way, with Hannibal killing Will. Heartbroken, Hannibal seeks out the one person he never found lacking: Bedelia.

2. A helping hand:

Hannibal manages to drag himself out of the ocean and evade the searches of the FBI. But he is injured, and needs help. And there is only one person he trusts enough to provide that help. Bedelia du Maurier.

Bedelia, for her part, has anticipated this possibility, and prepared accordingly. Despite Will Graham's threats, she has not left her home. When Hannibal manages to sneak back into Baltimore and climbs over the back wall of her property into her garden, she is ready and waiting. She confronts him before he can try to enter her house, keeping him at a distance at gunpoint until he gives her his word that he will not harm her, and begs for her help.

Bedelia is prepared to help, but not here. She orders him to wait right where he is, disappears into the house for a few moments, and returns with a bag. Then she asks him if he has a car nearby, and when Hannibal answers in the affirmative, tells him to lead the way. They leave the property over the back wall, the same way Hannibal got there.

Once in his car, she directs him across town to what turns out to be a closed down veterinary practice. When Hannibal warns her that all such places would have received an advisory to be on the lookout for him or any signs of break-ins etc. she informs him that this particular practice has been shut down for a few months, ever since the owner died. And it will likely remain shut down for a long while, since there is an ongoing dispute about the estate the man left behind.

When Hannibal questions how she knows about this place, Bedelia reveals that she overheard a conversation between two former customers of this veterinary during a spa visit a while ago. The two women were gossiping freely, and she learned a lot of useful information. Including where to find a spare key for the back door, and the likely code for the alarm system.

Bedelia's info proves correct. They use the practice and a mixture of supplies found there and others Bedelia brought in her bag to patch Hannibal up.

Once that is done, they have a talk.

Earlier, when she first confronted Hannibal in her garden, she asked if Will Graham was with him. Now, she returns to that line of inquiry, asking if Will is still alive. Hannibal doesn't know. He tells her he doesn't care, because after his latest betrayal, he is finished with Will. While Bedelia is happy to hear that, it's not the point of her question. She doesn't say so, but Hannibal can read her well and asks, prompting her to tell him about Will's threats towards her. Hannibal is outraged, and now hopes the man is dead.

They move on to the next topic: the immediate future. Bedelia makes it clear that whatever Hannibal has planned as his next step, she will not come with him. She needs to remain in her home so as not to draw any attention. Hannibal is disappointed, but he understands.

Bedelia does ask if he has a safe place he can go and lay low in. Hannibal tells her truthfully that while the cliff side house was his main safe house, he does have a few other boltholes. But it's been more than three years since he could check on them. They may not be there and safe anymore. He will have to see.

Bedelia is not happy to hear that, and to Hannibal's surprise offers him an alternative. She hands him a printout of a map, of the kind hikers use. It shows some rural area, one numbered state road, a few smaller, local roads branching off of it, going into stretches of woodland dotted with small lakes. A very thin road branching off from one of the local roads is highlighted. It leads up to one of those lakes, and the spot where it ends practically on the lake shore is marked with an X there on the map. Otherwise, only the big road is labeled with a number, but no further identifying localities are shown. It could be anywhere along that road.

Bedelia explains that this is in upstate New York, and the X on the map shows a private holiday cabin. A cabin which was originally built in the 1920s, then later bought by a decidedly shady business man, who hid it under an offshore company registered in the name of his last mistress. When she died many years later, it was left in a trust.

That woman was Bedelia's "great-aunt Marie", not an actual relative, but a friend of her paternal grandmother. Bedelia is the only still living beneficiary of the trust the woman left behind. The trust is managed by a law firm in Switzerland. No chance of anybody tracing it back to Bedelia.

The cabin used to be rented out through a local agency, but bookings had become sparse in the last years, and Bedelia arranged for it to be taken off the market about a year ago. It is still in decent repair. Hannibal is touched and very grateful for her help. And he hopes that at some point in the future, after the manhunt for him has died down, they will be able to meet again and he will get the chance to show her his gratitude.

Bedelia and Hannibal part ways not far from her home, after he drives her back to her neighborhood. Then he sets out for the cabin, and Bedelia prepares for a visit from the FBI, and potentially also from Will Graham, should he still be alive.

3. Will Graham's descend into darkness:

After his attempted murder-suicide, Will is pulled from the ocean by a fishing boat, more dead than alive, but he somehow manages to pull through and recover. Of Hannibal Lecter, no trace is found either alive or dead.

Physically, Will has a bunch of new scars, some lasting mementos that will twinge every time the weather turns, but over all he makes an almost miraculous recovery and regains his old strength. Mentally…

After the inevitable investigations and media circus finally die down, he returns to his life with Molly and Walter, and at first all seems as well as can be expected. But that's not true.

That fight at the cliff side house awakened something in Will Graham. He finally gave in to his dark side, thinking it would be the end. But it wasn't, and now his inner darkness will not allow him to stifle it once more.

He tries to resist, at first, but circumstances conspire against him. Molly has some trouble at work with a local asshole who is harassing her. When Will encounters the man alone and witnesses him abusing a dog, he tries to intervene, the situation escalates, and Will kills him. And he feels the same rush, the same high as during the fight with the Red Dragon.

Will manages to make the body disappear, aided by the fact that the guy was an all round asshole and involved in shady stuff, and nobody is sad he is gone. But after that first incident, the dam inside Will is broken. His next killing is planned.

Gradually, his behavior escalates. More dangerous victims, more "artistic" murders, less careful disposal of the bodies. (Perhaps, mid-season, one of his kills is found, and to Wills delight there is speculation that it is the work of Hannibal Lecter, that Hannibal is still alive after all.)

But while Will is now thoroughly enjoying his own twisted darkness, these killings still can't seem to scratch that inner itch.

And then there is some news item about Bedelia du Maurier, and suddenly all his dark urges have a new focus. The woman he has hated and been jealous of for so long. And now, he decides that he will finally have his revenge.

Bedelia was seemingly unaffected by the events of the season 3 finale, refusing to leave her home after Will's threats, and even after the news that Hannibal Lecter has escaped.

She did eventually leave, when Freddie Lounds and other reporters got too annoying in the aftermath of it all. Nobody knew where she had gone, until now. Will gathers as much information as he can, and carefully plans his attack.

The season finale is him carrying out his plan, only to get a nasty surprise: Bedelia is not living alone. She has been sharing her new refuge with none other than Hannibal Lecter. And the two of them have anticipated his attack, and prepared for it. Will Graham has stepped into a carefully prepared trap.

Epilogue: a news bulletin about the gruesome discoveries in the woods not far from Will and Molly's home, where evidence found in an old hunting cabin provided proof that the missing former FBI consultant Will Graham has become a serial killer and is responsible for a number of disappearances and murders, some of which were suspected to be the work of Hannibal Lecter. Given the new evidence, there is now no doubt they were the work of Will Graham. While Hannibal Lecter's fate remains unclear, there is no indication that he survived the altercation between him, Mr. Graham and the killer known as the Tooth Fairy. Mr. Graham is currently missing, and presumably on the run.

4. The shadow of the monster:

The dead body of Will Graham is fished from the Atlantic ocean several days after the fight at Hannibal's safe house. No trace of Hannibal, dead or alive, is found. Weeks pass, then months. Gradually, the furor surrounding the escape of Hannibal the Cannibal dies down, and life returns to some semblance of normal. The official investigations take longer of course, but without any trace of Hannibal being found, and with the surviving conspirators (Jack and Alana) with every reason to remain silent, they aren't having much success.

And then Alana Bloom receives a package with a bottle of a specific craft beer that she liked - not the beer Hannibal brewed specifically for her, of course, but another one he did serve to her - and some also very specific sweets. The date the package arrives is exactly the date of Hannibal's last dinner party. Or, in other words, the date Alana slept with Hannibal for the first time.

Alana is instantly convinced that this is coming from Hannibal. But there is no definite proof. No note, no fingerprints or DNA traces, and the package itself got sent in such a way that the true origin and who exactly posted it cannot be traced.

Over the next weeks, the other "old acquaintances" of Hannibal Lecter receive similar mail. Jack Crawford, Bedelia du Maurier, Frederick Chilton, Margot Verger. Even Freddie Lounds. Always items that are reminiscent of encounters with Hannibal, but never any concrete proof that this is coming from him.

Once again, the investigations ramp up, and this time, Jack and Alana are on opposing sides. Alana is convinced Hannibal is alive, Jack keeps insisting - partly because that's the story he told until now and he has to stick to it or open himself up to questioning again - that Hannibal is dead and this is someone else. But he can't explain how anybody else would know about these things.

The recipients of the packages react with varying degrees of fear and paranoia, but none are unaffected. And all of them try to work out who could be behind it all, with varying levels of cooperation between each other, and between them and the official FBI investigation. None of them realize that the sender of these packages is right in their midst.

Bedelia was disappointed and heartbroken when Hannibal gave himself up to the FBI three years ago. Over time, those feelings changed to anger. Anger at Will Graham, anger at Hannibal himself, and of course anger at the other players in this game, starting with Alana and the Vergers, and Jack Crawford.

As Will Graham said, if you play, you pay. Bedelia has paid her own price in the pain she has been feeling ever since Florence. Will Graham has finally paid the ultimate price for his obsession. Hannibal may or may not be still alive, but even if he is, Will Graham is dead, and Bedelia knows that death will hurt Hannibal. Right now, she does not feel any sympathy for him. He deserves that pain. But the others, they deserve pain, too. And Bedelia has no more fucks to give. She is ready to burn everything down. Life after Hannibal has been boring, stultifying. She has nothing else to occupy her time. And she misses him. And now she has found the perfect outlet for her emotions, and a task to occupy her time.

Hannibal meanwhile is still alive, licking his wounds. He finds out about what's going on, and is intrigued, but also annoyed that someone would pretend to be him. (He is particularly angry that Bedelia is among the targets of this person.) He decides to investigate.

[im-on-your-side-always]

What do you think's going to happen with Bradley and Cory in the final episode? I can't see how Cory will get out of this, or predict what Bradley will do now she's quit!

hiiii, thank you for your question.

heads up: this includes some spoilers from a review form a few weeks ago.

I’m not sure about cory. obviously there is going to be an internal investigation and he will get questioned about the article that came out. and bradley will get questioned too. (confirmed by the review - I really can’t wait for this scene tbh)

I’m not sure if he will be back as ceo of uba though. I really don’t know what he will be doing by the end of the season. I think it would be good for him to quit and leave uba. but I think there’s still so much to think about such as the selling of the network, fred, paul. the finale is definitely going to be packed. I wish I had a better answer for you.

bradley will be going to the fbi (alex is with her and hal is waiting outside the building). not sure if she is going to confess what she did, I think it’s very likely though. they said the season ends on a cliffhanger so my guess is that she’s outside the building and then the episode is over. and we have to wait for season 4, which will be torture.

do you have any predictions?

[xofeno]

We have a premiere date! Season 4 of FBI International begins Oct 15, according to this article.

[bullet-prooflove]

You can totally skip over season 3 of FBI International if you want. I never even watched the first 3 seasons. I started with season 4 and don't feel lost at all. They wrote it with new viewers in mind and that works for me.

That's good to know but I do love me some Scott and Damien so I would probs want to watch S3 for them. Truly you are missing out with those to fellas nonny.

[neurodiversebones]

what are some of ur favorite episodes, if you don't mind sharing? i'm in the mood for a rewatch but don't know where to start 😭

gonna do this by season !!! there are SOOO many that i adore lol

season one :

- 1×09 , man in the fallout shelter (MY COMFORT EPISODE OF ALL TIME my mom and i like to watch it together and i can recite parts of it from memory)

- 1×17 , the skull in the desert (for the brengela content mostly LMAO)

- 1×22 , the woman in limbo (BRENNAN ANGST !!)

season two :

- 2×03 , the boy in the shroud (MORE BRENNAN ANGST !! so much good brennan development + brennan/cam moments here)

- 2×08 , the woman in the sand (brennan hot im so gay)

- 2×09 , aliens in a spaceship (not a hot take this is everyones top 5 but <33 god its SO GOOD)

- 2×11 , judas on a pole (i love max keenan ....)

season three :

- 3×05 , the mummy in the maze (BRENNAN/CAM/ANGELA'S COSTUMES IM SOOO GAY .....)

- 3×09 , the santa in the slush (this is the first episode i remember watching when i was a kid + im a SUCKER for a christmas episode)

- 3×12 , the baby in the bough (ACCIDENTAL BABY ACQUISITION !! i have done 'dancing phalanges !!' to my nieces btw .)

- 3×13 , the verdict in the story (I LOVE MAX KEENAN)

season four (currently where i am in my rewatch) :

- 4×04 , the finger in the nest (RIPLEY BRENNAN IM SOBBING)

- 4×08 , the skull in the sculpture (idgaf abt the case but ANGELA GIRLKISSER)

- 4×12 , double trouble in the panhandle (CIRCUS BRENNAN !!)

- 4×14 , the hero in the hold (ghosts confirmed ?? b&b angst ??)

- 4×21 , mayhem on a cross (SWEETS ....)

- 4×22 , double death of the dearly departed (watched this ep after taking a 40mg+ edible . i had never been high before . insane experience .)

- 4×26 , the end in the beginning (AU EPISODE !! B&B KISSES !!)

season five :

- 5×10 , the goop on the girl (CHRISTMAS EPISODES !!!)

- 5×12 , the proof in the pudding (bones canonically solved jfk's murder and thats just . a thing .)

- 5×16 , the parts in the sum of the whole (i fucking love this episode its everything to me)

-5×17 , the death of the queen bee (I LOVE A GOOD HS REUNION TROPE)

- 5×21 , the boy with the answer (i love a courtroom drama episode)

season six :

- 6×03 , maggots in the meathead (ONE OF THE FUNNIEST EPISODES OF ALL TIME)

- 6×09 , doctor in the photo (god this episode is so sad but its SO good)

- 6×14 , the bikini in the soup (valentines ,,,, i LOVE holiday episodes guys)

- 6×16 , the blackout in the blizzard (I LOVE THIS EPISODE SM EVERY SECOND OF IT IS FANTASTIC AND ITS SO UNDERRATED)

- 6×21 , the signs in the silence (brennan w kids makes me emotional)

- 6×22 , the hole in the heart (oh yk . the agonies)

- 6×23 , the change in the game (hi its wanda im at the bowling alley . bowling . I'M PREGNANT, BOOTH . YOU'RE THE FATHER . THE ADELE FADE AT THE END . IM CRYING)

season seven :

- 7×06 , the crack in the code (BANGER setup to an arc i have complicated feelings abt . this ep has such a spooky vibe i love it)

- 7×07 , the prisoner in the pipe (BABY !!)

- 7×13 , the past in the present (THE END JUST MAKES ME SO SAD I LOVE THE ANGST)

season eight :

- 8×06 , the patriot in purgatory (i love having all the interns YIPPEE)

- 8×07 , the bod in the pod (im just here for camastoo . you are my carburator .)

- 8×14 , the doll in the derby (ANGELA ON ROLLERSKATES ....)

- 8×15 , the shot in the dark (ghosts are real part 4 . christine brennan triggers my mommy issues . i want her to hug me .)

- 8×23 , the pathos in the pathogens (ANOTHER TOP TIER FAV EPISODE THE ANGST IS SO GOOD)

season nine :

- 9×04 , the sense in the sacrifice (YIPPEE LOVE !! PELANT DEAD !!)

- 9×06 , the woman in white (brennans vows make me sob every time .)

- 9×10 , the mystery in the meat (COWGIRL BAR FIGHT IM SO <33)

- 9×11 , the spark in the park (brennan talking to the professor makes me SOB .)

- 9×24 , the recluse in the recliner (tbh i never understand the fbi conspiracy arc but this episode is crazy)

season ten :

- 10×02 , the lance to the heart (you put the lime in the coconut ....)

- 10×10 , the 200th in the 10th (INSANE OLD HOLLYWOOD AU ITS SO FUCKING FUN)

- 10×15 , the eye in the sky (booth angst booth angst)

season eleven :

- 11×09 , the cowboy in the contest (I LOVE UNDERCOVER I LOVE COSTUMES)

- 11×10 , the doom in the boom (HODGINS ANGST)

- 11×12 , the murder of the meninist ("we love going viral" "so do infectious diseases")

- 11×13 , the monster in the closet (PUPPETEER ARC !!!)

- 11×18 , the movie in the making (comfort episode I LOVE A MOCKUMENTARY AND ALSO THE CAMASTOO PROPOSAL)

- 11×22 , the nightmare within the nightmare (this episode scared me so bad bc i watched it at 4am 😭 THE FUCKING ZACK REVEAL IS CRAZY)

season twelve :

- 12×01 , the hope in the horror (I HATE THE DEMONIZATION OF DID ITS SO GROSS BUT I LOVE SEEING ZACK)

- 12×07 , the scare in the score (I CRIED SO BAD ....)

- 12×09 , the steal in the wheels (i giggled i <3 silly undercover time)

- 12×11 , the day in the life (CAMASTOO WEDDING IM SOBBINGGGG . ALSO THE END HOLY SHIT)

- 12×12 , the end in the end (i fucking wept . i love tge finale im so emotional abt it .)