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pathologicalreid · 8 months

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stuck between a rock and a hard place | S.R.

You, an undercover agent, uncover a hidden secret of the country's largest operation, putting your life in danger and under the protection of the BAU.

who? spencer reid x fem!FBI!reader category: angst content warnings: general cm violence, hospitals, medical inaccuracy, drugs, sex crimes/trafficking, attempted sa, reader works in sex crimes. mentions foyet and also 6x24 (supply and demand). established relationship. word count: 7.7k a/n: this has been sitting in my wip folder for far too long. i am now emotionally attached to these two. i will write more of this specific pairing because now all i want is for them to be happy.

Spencer

It wasn’t every day that men and women in suits piled into the BAU carrying evidence boxes, everyone stood up at their desks. Spencer watched as Andi Swann followed in behind the other agents, not even bothering to greet the team as she went straight to Emily’s office.

Prentiss opened the door, letting Andi in before beckoning for Reid to join them. This had to be about you.

Ignoring the way his heart rate spiked, Spencer stood up from his desk and went up to Emily’s office. On the other side of the bullpen, the rest of the team filed into the roundtable room.

“Spencer, have a seat,” Emily offered, gesturing to one of the chairs in front of her desk.

Glancing at Agent Swann, he crossed his arms in front of his chest, “No, I’ll stand.”

Andi cleared her throat, looking at Spencer, she spoke, “Y/N missed her last two check-ins. As her next of kin, I need to notify you to let you know that as of now, the FBI is considering her missing.”

He wanted to be angry. He wanted so badly to be mad, but he’d seen this before. Years ago, an agent in Andi’s unit missed her check-ins and the BAU helped find her. More than that, he knew how much Andi cared about her agents, so he couldn’t find it in himself to be mad.

“Section Chief Cruz has asked that the BAU help to recover Y/N,” Emily said, looking at Spencer. “You know I have to tell you that you can’t be on this case,” she explained, leaning against her desk, eyes flickering as she tried to read Spencer’s expression.

Taking a deep breath, Spencer looked at Emily, “Y/N’s gone missing, and I’m not allowed to help look for her?”

Sympathetically, Prentiss shook her head, dark hair swaying with the movement. “You know it’s a conflict of interest to be involved with a loved one’s case.”

“Isn’t that kind of what the BAU does?” He could’ve rambled off a list of BAU agents who worked on cases involving their loved ones – including himself and Emily.

Turning to face Agent Swann, Emily suggested she join the rest of the team in the roundtable room. She waited until the door was closed before speaking again, “When’s the last time you saw Y/N?”

Closing his eyes, he remembered the morning of the day you left, the both of you had stayed up late as if you could delay your departure, but the last time he saw you was when he dropped you off at the Sex Crimes Unit before making his way up to the Behavioral Analysis Unit. “We haven’t even spoken since she left,” he answered, almost a month ago now.

“Is there a chance she tried to reach you or her family?” Emily asked. She had to ask, he knew that, but it didn’t make the questions any less ridiculous to him.

Shaking his head, he began to pace around the office, “No, she wouldn’t have done that. She follows the undercover playbook obsessively. She always said freestyling was like signing your death certificate.” He tried. He tried to get you to leave him breadcrumbs, but you never did.

Nodding, Emily watched as he paced back and forth “When did you get married?”

Pressing his lips into a thin white line, he stopped in his tracks, “When I came back after The Believers. It was the next day.” You had offered to sleep on the couch in an attempt to give him space when he asked you to go to the courthouse with him. That was two months ago now.

He didn’t want space. Not from you. Never from you.

Finally, he sat down.

“Did you tell anyone?” Emily asked, sitting down in the chair next to him. “Did you have a witness to sign your marriage certificate?”

Nodding, Spencer reached into the breast pocket of his suit jacket and produced three rings, his wedding ring, your engagement ring, and your wedding band. You didn’t have the time to get them soldered together yet. “Rossi was our witness,” he responded, “He was the only one who answered his phone.” He slipped his ring on and closed his fist around your two rings.

After a moment, Emily stood, “I’m going to speak with the rest of the team, but I won’t tell them anything I don’t think is pertinent to the case.” Which was her way of saying ‘Your secret is safe with me.’ “Stay in here as long as you need, Spence,” she offered before walking out, shutting the door tightly behind her.

He thought of the last night you were together. Spencer tried to check in with you, he told you that if your job ever became too much, you just had to tell him, and he’d be there. What he neglected to tell you was that he was beginning to feel like your job was too much for him.

You had given him the opportunity to hold you close, and instead, he let you slip through his fingers.

Opening his fist, he looked down at your rings and the indent they had left on his palm, slipping them back into his pocket before he walked over to the roundtable room. Everyone paused what they were doing to look up at him.

Spencer just shrugged and looked at Emily, “I can’t just do nothing.”

In response, Emily nodded solemnly and suggested he go through the case files with Matt.

It had been hours. The sun had set, jackets had been shed, and takeout had been ordered. The clock behind him showed it was nearly midnight, meaning it had been almost two days since anyone had last heard from you.

“Oh god,” Penelope said, her voice cutting into the thick silence of the roundtable room. Her fingers began frantically typing on her laptop.

Spinning in the office chair, Spencer wheeled over so he could look at the screen, vaguely aware of Emily hovering above him, “What is it? What did you find?”

She hit the keyboard so hard he thought they might break, but she answered, “The trauma center at Johns Hopkins reported a Jane Doe brought in a few hours ago. She matches Y/N’s description.”

“Did they run prints?” Andi asked, of course, there would be red tape if the hospital tried to run your prints, seeing as you were undercover.

Another tap and dozens of files opened, “It looks like she went right into surgery. Uh, the EMTs reported she was listing off a string of numbers when they brought her in… 265D019Z?”

Spencer swallowed thickly, “That’s Y/N’s badge number.”

Shaking her head, JJ looked over at the map of DC on the wall, “It’s a two-hour drive to Baltimore from here.”

“But it’s a thirty-minute flight, Reid, Tara, Swann, and Alvez go. The rest of us will look into what happened from here,” Emily doled out responsibilities, nodding at everyone as the team broke.

Spencer stayed still, still looking at Penelope’s screen, his eyes flickering over the documents. Words jumped out at him, drugged, punctured, and knife. It made his stomach churn. How had you gotten to Baltimore? Your unit had you set up in an apartment near the Hill. When did you travel from the district to Baltimore?

The thirty-minute flight felt like it was hours long, the drive from the airstrip to the hospital dragged on, but thankfully Emily had called the hospital ahead of time to let them know who you were and who was coming for you.

A doctor stopped the four of you from going into the room, a police officer was already stationed outside of the room, and the blinds were closed. Please, Spencer wanted to plead, please just let me see her.

“She’s weak, she just came down from recovery and she hasn’t fully woken up yet,” the doctor said, placing her hands on her hips. “I can’t in good faith let you go in there and badger her with questions. Not with no one in there to focus on her well-being,” she ordered. The doctor stared the four of them down with piercing gray eyes.

Taking a deep breath, Spencer peeked through the doorway when a nurse exited your room. “She’s my wife, I’ll advocate for her,” he responded, hoping the doctor would let him through. He could feel Tara and Luke staring, but he didn’t care.

Nodding, the doctor continued sizing Reid up, “Alright, but just you, for now. She’s not awake enough to be questioned anyway.” Stepping to the side, the doctor let Spencer through before blocking the doorway to everyone else.

In the worst way possible, you took his breath away. Your skin was sallow, you had an IV, nasal cannula, and a chest tube out the left side. Walking to your right, he took a seat next to you, taking your hand in his and pressing a gentle kiss to your bloodied knuckles – evidence that you had put up one hell of a fight. “Oh sweetheart, what did they do to you?” He whispered even though he knew you wouldn’t answer.

Reaching over you, he smoothed your hair from your face, your skin was clammy, probably as a result of blood loss. It looked like they were still transfusing, so you had probably lost a considerable amount of blood.

Shuffling the seat closer to you, Spencer took your hand in his. The doctor came back in holding a tablet, “Dr. Reid?”

He hummed in response, not daring to take his eyes off of you. “What happened to her? Why did she need surgery?”

“She had been bleeding out in an alley, according to the police officers who reported to the scene. The other agents are talking to them now,” the doctor said, tapping a few buttons on the tablet. “She had been stabbed several times in the upper left side, we went in to repair damage to her spleen, liver, and lung. There was some strain to her heart, it appears she was drugged before she was stabbed.”

He intently watched the steady rise and fall of your chest before he spoke up again, “Is she going to be okay?”

Setting the tablet down, the doctor paused before answering, “We’ll know more when she wakes up.”

Spencer leaned back in the chair, finally taking his eyes off of you and looking at the doctor, “Was there anything… did they…” He felt ridiculous, having spent the better part of his adult life in the BAU, and he couldn’t even put the words together.

To his relief, the doctor shook her head, “There were no injuries that suggested she was sexually assaulted.”

Reading the doctor’s badge, Spencer nodded. “Thank you, Dr. Herman.”

“Hit the call button when she wakes up, we’ll need to evaluate her pain and other treatment,” the doctor said, gathering her things before walking out of the room, and shutting the door behind her.

Spencer kept his eyes on you, tapping his foot on the ground impatiently, every once in a while, his phone rang, but he didn’t have the energy to talk on the phone. When his phone buzzed, he pulled it out of his pocket and checked the messages.

Penelope Garcia: How is she? Spencer Reid: Still sleeping. Penelope Garcia: How are you? Spencer Reid: Not sure.

Setting his phone on the table, screen down, he watched you again, every once in a while, your nose would twitch, or your eyes would flutter. Every time he would hold his breath, hoping you’d open your eyes.

He waited, and about an hour after he had arrived, a small, keening noise came from you. His head snapped up at the sound, your eyes were still closed, but you were moving. “Y/N?” He whispered hesitantly, not wanting to wake you up if you weren’t ready. Slowly, he stood up from the chair, not sure if he should keep waiting or if he should hit the call button.

You were muttering something, talking to someone in your sleep, when suddenly you jerked away. Instinctively, Spencer put his hands on your shoulders to stop you from tearing your stitches, and it was that touch that caused your eyes to snap open. “No, no, no, no,” you babbled, frantically looking around the hospital room.

“Y/N,” Spencer said, keeping his hands on your shoulders, “You’re safe, I’m here. You’re at Johns Hopkins in Baltimore.”

With wide eyes, you looked up at him and mouthed the word ‘Baltimore.’ As if you were trying to figure out how you had ended up in Baltimore, something the BAU still hadn’t figured out. “I thought I…” Your voice was nothing more than a rasp, but with the bruises he could now see littering your neck, that didn’t surprise him much. “Did you see it?”

Spencer pushed the call button without you noticing, “Did I see what, love?” He asked, keeping his voice low as he gently sat down on the edge of your hospital bed.

You furrowed your eyebrows and looked around the room, “Is Andi here?" Your voice was tight, like you were struggling to breathe. "I need to talk to Andi.”

Helplessly, Spencer watched as the number signifying your heart rate jumped, “Not just yet, alright?” He said, looking up when the doctor and a nurse came through the door.

The doctor introduced herself and started trying to get you to even out your breathing, one of the monitors was beeping like crazy until the nurse hit a button on it.

All he could do was watch, making sure he didn’t get in the way. Listening in to words about medications and making a mental note to research everything. “How’s your pain, Y/N? On a scale from one through ten.” The doctor asked, standing at the foot of the bed.

“Like a seven? When I breathe it’s more like a nine,” you answered, every word was strained. The doctor flashed a light in your eyes, “That isn’t helping,” you said through gritted teeth.

The doctor said something to the nurse, prompting her to nod before pushing something through your IV. After a few moments, Spencer watched as your heart rate lowered and your body visibly relaxed into the mattress. You nodded softly when the nurse asked if that was better.

Dr. Herman left and the nurse scrawled some notes down on your chart, introducing herself as Amelia before she left as well.

“Oh no,” you whispered, looking in the direction of the door. “Is the whole BAU here? How badly did I fuck up?”

Quickly, Spencer shook his head, “You didn’t, at all. It’s just me, Tara, and Luke,” he tried to reassure you as best he could without knowing the full story. “Do you feel up to talking?” He asked, smoothing your hair away from your face.

You nodded gently, “I need to talk to Andi. Alone, if it’s okay with you.”

“I can wait right outside in the hallway,” he offered, holding your hand in his and skimming the pad of his thumb over top of your knuckles.

You hummed contentedly, “Could you see if I can have water?”

Grateful to have something to do, Spencer stood up, leaned forward, and pressed a kiss to your forehead, “I’ll be right back.” He stepped out of the room, garnering the attention of the agents who were waiting in the hallway, all of them staring at Spencer expectantly, “Andi, she wants to talk to you.”

The Unit Chief nodded and disappeared into the room, leaving the door open just a crack.

He was gone for three minutes, that was the time it took him to walk to the nurses’ station and ask if you were allowed liquids and back, but when he returned the door to your room was wide open. “Where did they go?” He asked, looking over at Tara.

She was still leaning against the taupe hospital walls before nodding in the direction of the red exit sign, “Swann was in there for maybe two minutes before she came out in a huff, she took Alvez with her.” Lewis spoke calmly like it didn’t necessarily mean anything to her.

But it did to him. Walking back into your room, he stood at the side of your bed, “What did you tell Andi that you didn’t want me hearing?”

“Huh?” You sounded tired – rightfully so. Your pupils were dilated, which told Spencer that the drugs that the doctors had given you were working.

It comforted him that you weren’t in as much pain, but you were still hiding something from him. “You asked me to leave while you talked to Andi because you didn’t want me to hear what you were telling her. What did you tell her?”

Your face softened as your eyes filled with a different kind of hurt, “Don’t profile me.” You were too tired to hide the pain in your voice.

He raised his eyebrows and shrugged, “Don’t lie to me,” He countered. You were lying by omission, but what was worse was that you might’ve been putting yourself in danger.

“Please don’t leave me,” you whimpered.

Spencer’s chest tightened as he watched your eyes fill with tears, he sat down on the edge of your bed and took your hand in his. “I’m not going anywhere. Why would you think I’d leave you, darling?”

Your eyes were half-closed, “because you…” your voice trailed off and he squeezed your hand to get your attention. “When Scratch had Emily, you wanted to kill him,” you murmured.

The air had been knocked out of his lungs. You hadn’t been talking about a divorce. You were saying that you could identify your assailant, and you didn’t want Spencer to know. “I won’t go,” he whispered, “I’ll be right here.”

“It was Jake,” you mumbled, barely able to open your mouth as you fought your exhaustion.

That hadn’t been the answer he was expecting. He swallowed thickly, “Jake did this to you?” He asked slowly, looking at your hand, your fingers intertwined.

Minutely, you shook your head, “Jake blew my cover, Spence.” Yawning, you proceeded to mumble about him doing it on purpose.

Untangling your fingers, Spencer reached out and smoothed your hair away from your forehead, “Get some sleep, angel. I love you.”

You hummed an ‘I love you’ back, and the next moment your eyes were shut.

A nurse came in and asked for a moment while she checked the output of your chest tube, ushering Spencer and Tara out. “Okay, I’ll bite, who’s Jake?” Tara asked, putting a hand on her hip as she looked expectantly at Reid.

“Jake is her partner. When she’s not undercover and just out in the field, they’re partners,” Spencer explained.

Tara pursed her lips thoughtfully, “So, he would’ve known that she was undercover.”

Nodding as the newly added weight of the situation threatened to pull him down, Spencer turned and faced you, watching as the nurse examined you as you slept. “He blew her cover on purpose,” he reached up and rubbed his eye. Jake knew exactly what he was doing when he blew your cover, and you knew exactly what you were doing when you begged Spencer not to leave you.

“We have to go back in and ask her more questions,” Tara said.

Usually, Spencer agreed with Tara, but not this time. He saw the monitors you were hooked up to, he read your chart, and he watched the concerned looks on the nurses’ faces. They all told him that you weren’t stable enough to be speaking, let alone a cognitive interview. “No,” Spencer said finally.

Clearing her throat lightly, Tara stood next to him in the doorway, “We can’t let them get away, Reid.”

“And I can’t lose her,” he rebutted, ignoring the way his voice broke in his desperation.

Stepping back slightly, the other agent nodded in understanding. “Okay, I’ll call Emily. You go sit with her.”

She didn’t have to tell him twice; he pulled a chair up impossibly close to your bedside and draped his jacket over the back of it before loosening his tie and sitting down.

You

When you woke up, it was still dark outside, but the bright lights of the hospital room made it hard for you to get any real rest. You were pleased to find that, true to his word, Spencer was right next to you when he woke up.

He was sleeping, resting his head on his hand with his wrist bent awkwardly. “Spence,” You whispered, clearing your throat, “Spencer.” You couldn’t reach out to touch him, but you wanted to wake him up, so his wrist wasn’t sore.

Jolting awake, he looked at you, “Hey, did you just wake up? How do you feel?”

It was a weird question, you felt like an absolute dumpster fire. “Better,” you whispered, “less hurt, achier. Sore. I don’t know, my head feels fuzzy,” you rambled, trying to move higher up on the hospital bed, but being limited by the chest tube. “How long do I have to have it?” You asked, staring at the plastic tubing as if you could make it go away via the power of suggestion.

“At least through the night, but it could be longer,” he said, reaching over and smoothing over the edges of your blanket. “Do you know what they gave you?” Spencer asked, shaking out his wrist.

You hummed in response, “No, it was intravenous though. They were big on amphetamines, but it didn’t feel like a stimulant. Benzos maybe,” you told him, your voice was soft. The pain in your throat had subsided after being intubated during surgery, but you were still swollen from when Cal grabbed you.

None of this made sense to you. The one thing that bothered you more than anything else was why Cal stopped when Jake said to. It couldn’t have been as simple as the money.

Spencer must’ve noticed you burrowing into your memories, “You remember everything?” He asked gently.

He knew what he was implying, in more cases involving severe trauma, victims generally remember everything or remember nothing. It was lucky for law enforcement when they remembered, but bad for the victims. Bad for you. “Mostly,” you breathed, avoiding his eyes. “I’m so sorry,” you said softly.

“Why? You don’t have anything to be sorry about,” he tried to reassure you, reaching out and taking your hand in his.

You hummed, “I don’t remember anything after they drugged me, just the stuff before. Just the…” Your voice trailed off as you returned to your confusion. “Who’s still here that I can talk to?”

He squeezed your hand comfortingly, “Do you feel up to it?”

“I’m afraid I don’t have much of a choice,” you answered him despondently.

Spencer nodded before he got up from his chair, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead before he stepped out into the hallway and let Tara in.

The agent smiled at you gently, “Hey, Y/N, how are you feeling?” She asked, sitting down at a free chair at the end of your hospital bed, leaving the chair at your side available for Spencer to return to.

You gave your best attempt at returning the smile before you answered, “I think I’m going to make it.”

As Spencer sat back down next to you, placing a water cup on your bedside table, Tara opened a file and looked through it, “Can you start by telling me a little bit about your assignment? You were undercover as… Barbara?” She read from the file.

Nodding slowly, you held out your hand for Spencer to hold, “Yeah, but they called me Babs.”

Three days ago...

You shifted self-consciously in the gold dress. It was a silky, slippery number that displayed more than you particularly liked. Spencer would probably like it, but he’d hate how uncomfortable you were in it.

Inadvertently, you smiled at just the thought of your husband. It was late, so he was probably at home, reading next to the fireplace. Maybe he was on a case, off somewhere in the United States and saving lives.

It had been twenty-nine days since you had last seen him.

“You look gorgeous tonight, Babs,” Johnathan McCallister, better known as Cal, told you, reaching out and placing a hand on either one of your shoulders before placing a kiss on both cheeks.

Bashfully, you smiled at him, “You’re too good to me, Cal. I can’t believe you got me in!” Deep down, you knew tonight could be the night, you would be able to take down The Program. At least the D.C. chapter of it.

When it was over, you could be Y/N Reid again, instead of Barbara McFarston.

The Program took women around your age and sold them into sex slavery. The chapter in Washington D.C. was one of the most active, which made sense when you looked around the room and saw a majority of the people were elected officials – men and women alike.

Andi Swann had assured you that taking down this chapter would create a domino effect, causing the other chapters to topple. According to her, if you could take down D.C., Miami, and Los Angeles, The Program would most likely cease to exist.

Turning to ask Cal about the selection tonight, you were startled to see familiar gray eyes on your companion’s other side. You felt your façade slip, but only for a second before you pasted a brilliant smile back on your face.

You tilted your head to the side, “And who might you be?” You asked Jake, wondering if Andi had sent him in to get a status report on you.

“Jake Cohn,” he answered, and goosebumps spread over your exposed skin at his answer. He should’ve said William Jacoby, that was his identity for this case.

In horror, you watched as Jake leaned in to whisper something in Cal’s ear, maintaining eye contact with you the whole time. You bit your tongue as Cal wrapped an arm around your waist and pulled you in tightly, “Let’s talk.”

You stumbled a little over your own feet and looked at Jake with wide eyes, the leader forcefully shoved you into a private room, one that would probably light up like a Christmas tree under a blacklight. “What’s wrong, Cal?” You asked, standing up straight.

He reached over and grabbed the back of your neck, gathering the hair at the nape of your neck in his fist. The force of it made you scrunch your shoulders up, “You’re a fucking fed?” He seethed, tossing you to the ground in one swift movement.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you tried to convince him. Tried to flip the script so that Jake was the liar instead of you.

Cal grabbed your throat next, holding you down on a booth seat. “Oh, Y/N… Jake’s been one of my best employees for years.” He said, chuckling at the betrayal in your eyes, he only laughed more when you kneed him in the gut. “Oh, I like it when they fight back.”

You shut your eyes tightly as you heard the clinking of his belt buckle, but they snapped back open when you heard the word, “Stop.”

“What? Did you want first go on her?” Cal asked, wiping his cheek – you must’ve scratched him in your struggle.

Jake cleared his throat and met your eyes, “We should keep her clean, you know?” He said, and for a moment you thought he was actually trying to help you, “Think about how much a clean fed would go for here. Especially in D.C.”

And just like that, your hopes were dashed, “he’s right,” you told Cal, trying to formulate a plan.

“Shut up, whore,” Cal spat, causing you to involuntarily flinch.

At least there’s nothing he could call you that you hadn’t heard before, in your line of work, people got very creative.

Cal looked at you, inspecting your neck where he had grabbed you before, “You’ll make me a lot of money, won’t you?” He said, rubbing a hand up and down your arm soothingly before poking you with a needle.

Your legs gave out beneath you, but Jake caught you before you hit the ground. “I’m sorry, Y/N. I didn’t think he’d do this. I thought he’d kick you out, but I didn’t think…”

Looking up at him, your throat burned, and you weren’t sure if you were going to cry or throw up, but you shut your eyes. “No, you didn’t.” You don’t just casually tell the leader of a sex trafficking ring that the person with them is an FBI agent.

Present

“And that’s the last thing you remember?” Tara asked, scribbling something down in your file.

You nodded absentmindedly, “I think…” Your voice trailed off as you looked at Spencer, “I think Jake might’ve been in charge the whole time. Pulling the strings from behind the curtain while he waited for the perfect time to catch me off guard. That’s the only reason Cal would’ve backed off when Jake told him to,” You proposed your theory, not missing the way Spencer was holding your hand a little tighter than before.

Tara’s brows were raised, “Jake Cohn has worked in the bureau for almost a decade, it would be hard for him to evade detection for that long.”

“But he knows exactly how to evade it,” you rebutted. “He’d know all of the tricks from Sex Crimes and all of my tricks. He- He set me up,” you realized.

Spencer turned around and looked at your monitor, “Okay, let’s take a break. We can talk more later.”

Getting up, Tara let Spencer know she was going to call the rest of the team before she stepped back into the hallway.

“My chest hurts,” you said, hating how your voice sounded like a whine.

In response, Spencer smoothed your hair back in an attempt to comfort you. “Your heart is racing,” he whispered, “Take a deep breath, okay?”

You nodded slowly, breathing in deeply through your nostrils and letting the air collect in your lungs before blowing it out your mouth. Looking up at Spencer, worry plain in his eyes no matter how hard he tried to hide it, you came to a decision, “Spence?”

He bowed slightly closer to you so he could hear you better, “What is it, love?” He moved his hand, so it was gently cupping your cheek.

Leaning into his touch, you whispered, “It’s too much.” The only thing you had left was to hope he knew what you were talking about, the words were too hard right now, but you felt them contributing to the burning in your chest.

“Okay,” he answered. “It’s okay. You don’t have to worry about disappointing anyone.”

You practically melted back into the hospital bed; the weight of your job eased off of you. Nodding, you closed your eyes, “It’s good, this is good. I just feel crazy, but a good crazy.”

Spencer smiled at you, “Okay crazy,” he whispered, “I’m going to-“ He was abruptly cut off by his phone ringing, furrowing his brows, he swiped the screen and held the phone up to his ear, “Hey, JJ.”

Cocking your head to the side, you tried to listen to JJ’s side of the conversation, but either she was speaking quietly, or Spencer had his phone volume really low. From the way Spencer’s jaw tightened, you knew that this couldn’t be anything good.

He looked at you before looking at the door, “Do you know where?” He said in a tone entirely unfamiliar to you, it was low and steely. Reaching over you, he nimbly pressed the call button on your bed, “Okay, keep me updated.”

“Spencer, what is going on?” You asked as the nurse came into your room, faltering for a moment as she looked at the two of you.

Placing a hand on the bar of your hospital bed, Spencer looked at the nurse, “Do you have somewhere secure she can be moved to?”

The nurse looked shellshocked, surely the FBI occupying the hospital wasn’t an everyday occurrence, “I don’t… I don’t think so?” She seemed unsure of herself.

“Spencer,” you repeated his name.

He turned to look at you, “Jake’s here and he’s looking for you.” Turning back to the nurse, he pointed at you, “She has to be moved.”

“I don’t… I’m just a student, my preceptor is taking a break. I could try to find-“ The nurse stammered nervously. “We don’t usually just move people.”

Nothing about this situation was usual, but one look at Spencer told you this was life or death. Your life or your death. You sighed in defeat, “This is really going to suck.” Reaching over to your side, you gripped the tube that had been draining blood from outside your lung and pulled it out. Like ripping off a band-aid.

In the process, you tore the stitches holding it in place and set off all kinds of alarms, leading to a crowd of nurses and doctors charging into the room.

As someone held pressure down on where you were bleeding, someone said something about moving you to a sterile procedure room, and the nursing student trailed along, whispering “That was the stupidest smart thing I’ve ever seen anyone do.”

Everything was blurry when you woke up next and, through the blinds, you could see that the sun was finally rising. The warm, orange light peeking through like lines on a piece of paper.

“Hey,” Spencer said from right next to you, placing a gentle hand on your arm. “It’s okay, you’re okay,” he whispered.

You looked away from him, back towards the blinds, “Will you open them?” You rasped, your throat felt raw, and your body felt heavy.

He got up and ambled over to the window, twisting the mechanism until the sun poured into your room. “How are you feeling?”

“Heavy,” you whispered, the mental weight of the past several days was threatening to take you down, but physically you felt like Atlas himself, carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders.

Spencer hummed in response, “They sedated you, standard procedure for people who rip their own chest tubes out.” He adjusted the way your gown rested on your shoulders, “Luckily you didn’t do too much damage.”

You took a deep breath and leaned your head so you could look out the window. The outside felt so foreign to you now, you couldn’t remember the last time you had breathed real, fresh air. “So, what is the damage?” Your voice was little more than a murmur but with just the two of you in your room, it wasn’t hard to hear.

“You’re going to be fine; they think the tube can go later today. Then they’ll evaluate whether enough you’re strong enough to go home, it’ll probably be another couple of days,” He explained to you, matching your gentle tone. “Johnathan McCallister is in custody, and Jake Cohn is dead,” he told you, studying your face for any kind of reaction.

Closing your eyes, you felt white hot tears stream down your cheeks. “I’m sorry,” you whispered, laughing a little despite yourself. He probably thought you were losing it, crying over the death of someone who had nearly had you murdered.

The edge of your mattress dipped down slightly, and you opened your eyes to see Spencer sitting next to you, “You don’t need to be sorry, my love.” Gently, he rested a hand on your hip, skimming his thumb over the rough fabric of your hospital gown, “He was like family to you. I’m not sorry he’s dead – I’m not. I am sorry for that loss, though.”

Nodding, you felt it as your face crumpled, leading Spencer to lean down and hug you as best he could. “I’m sorry I scared you,” you said as he pulled away.

Your furrowed your brows in confusion as he reached into his pocket and produced your wedding ring, taking your left hand, he slid the rings on, “For better or for worse, right?”

A small smile grew on your face as the gem on your finger shimmered in the morning light, “for richer or for poorer,” you continued.

“In sickness and in health,” Spencer whispered, eyes flickering around the hospital room.

You reached up a shaky hand and cupped his cheek with your palm, “to love and to cherish.” You said, feeling a dopey, lovesick grin blooming on your face.

He turned his head and kissed the center of your palm, “until parted by death,” he finished, taking your hand in his.

“No dying,” you insisted, feeling your energy begin to drain, you started to understand why the doctors didn’t want you going home for a few days.

Spencer hummed in response, “You almost did. If you hadn’t been found when you were-“ his voice broke off and you had to tear your eyes away from his for a moment. “I still can’t believe you chose that,” he whispered, looking at you like you hung the moon.

Shrugging as if it was nothing, you melted back into the pillows, “I had a split second to weigh my options – get sold into sex slavery or get stabbed in the chest.”

“A catch-22,” he nodded, wrapping his head around your impossible decision. You couldn’t help but wonder how long it would take until the fear in his eyes left.

You shifted a little in the hospital bed, the sheets rustling as you did, “We get it, you’ve read Joseph Heller.”

He smiled at that, the light teasing seemed to bring brightness to his face, “What is it about blood loss that makes you think you’re funny?”

Laughing lightly, you squeezed his hand as tightly as you could manage, “I am funny. And I’m tired.”

“Go back to sleep then, baby,” he said softly, “it’ll all be here when you wake up.”

There was a party in your hospital room. It started with just Emily, coming in because you were finally up to seeing anyone other than Spencer, and it ended up being the entire BAU.

Someone had gone to the apartment and gathered clothes for you so that, once your chest tube was removed, you could put on real clothes. So now you were sitting up, wearing sweatpants and a ratty old college sweatshirt, and laughing with the BAU. You were leaning heavily on Spencer, who was also sitting on your hospital bed, but he didn’t seem to have a problem with keeping you steady.

Luckily for you, no one in the BAU wanted to ask about what had happened on your assignment, they were more interested in the rings that adorned your and Spencer’s fingers.

“I still can’t believe you two secretly got married,” Penelope said. “Of all of the times for me to not answer my phone.”

Next to her, Luke shrugged, “Honestly, I can believe it. It feels like a very Y/N and Reid thing to do.”

Gently, Spencer rubbed your back. His hovering was quickly going to become insufferable, but right now you were welcoming every touch with open arms.

“Well, we’ll have a party for the two of you. When you’re up for it, of course,” JJ said, smiling from where she was standing next to Emily.

You wanted to shake your head and tell them that it really wasn’t necessary, but asking the BAU to refrain from throwing a party was like asking a shark to stop swimming. Instead of debating, you just smiled and bobbed your head.

Eventually, Andi showed up, just as you knew she would. “Hey, guys,” Emily nodded in the direction of the doorway, “Why don’t we go raid the hospital cafeteria?”

After a few more hugs, including a lingering one from Garcia, the BAU, save for your husband, filtered out, and Andi made her way to the foot of your bed. “Hey,” you said, your voice was soft.

Nine years. You had spent nine years in the sex crimes unit. Spencer had done the math, you’d spent approximately seventy-six percent of that time undercover, missing birthdays, holidays, not ever really looking forward to the future. Until now.

You, the most decorated member of the sex crimes unit, were leaving.

Suspiciously, you eyed the files in Andi’s arms, one was a case file, the other a plain manila folder. She silently handed you the case file, and you shared a look with Spencer before flipping it open. “The Program is gone?” You asked, your eyes skimming the folder.

Swann nodded, her brown hair swaying with the movement, “The arrest of the leader of the D.C. chapter greatly contributed to that, but it was the death of the ringleader that took the remainder of The Program down.”

Closing your eyes, you nodded as you tried to process what she was telling you. Jake had been in charge all along. “Andi, I-“

“It was your intel that did it,” she cut you off. “From your last several assignments, everything you collected directly contributed to the downfall of this trafficking network. One of the largest networks the FBI has ever seen.”

She handed you the next file, labeled with only your name. You flipped it open, well aware that Spencer was reading from over your shoulder. “I don’t qualify for retirement,” you told her, furrowing your eyebrows, and looking at the papers in front of you. You didn’t qualify for retirement, and yet, you were looking at a retirement offer.

Your unit chief nodded understandingly, “I pulled some strings, with some help. Collectively, Prentiss and I know a lot of people.”

Spencer placed a supportive hand on your back, and you looked up at Andi. “I’m only thirty-two?” You asked, it wasn’t a clarification, it was a question.

“And yet,” she answered, “you’ve done more for the Bureau than most agents could hope to do in their whole career. This plan came from the director, Y/N. He wanted you to have it.”

Shaking your head, you handed the folder over to your husband so he could look through it. “I don’t… can I think about it?”

“He’ll want an answer soon but talk it over and give me a call when you’ve come to a decision,” she said, grabbing her things and making her way to the door. “And Y/N?”

You lifted your head up to meet her eyes, “Yeah, Andi?”

She smiled at you, a rare, real smile from her, “Make the right decision for you. You have a small army ready to support you through everything.”

Slowly, your gaze followed her out the door, waiting until you heard the latch of the door secure. Spencer handed the folder back to you, “What do you want to do?”

You flipped through the folder again, it was a lot of money, and there were a few different distribution options, but it was more than you felt you’d ever need. “I don’t really feel like I deserve this,” you whispered, reaching your hand up and rubbing the back of your neck. “The Bureau doesn’t offer early retirement like this, not without extenuating circumstances,” you continued.

“They did it with Hotch,” Spencer said, reading the file over your shoulder.

Shaking your head, you leaned over to look at him, “That was way different, Haley was murdered by a serial killer.”

Spencer sighed, “I think you’re selling yourself short, darling. The Program was trafficking almost 12,000 people across the country. That’s almost 70 percent of the yearly total trafficking victims. You took them down,” he told you earnestly.

Your shoulders slouched forward, “I didn’t do it alone, though.”

“Didn’t you, though? They sent you in with no communication device, no emergency signal, and information that wasn’t even true. Your unit told you Johnathan McCallister was the leader of the ring, but it ended up being a decorated agent and you’re the one who figured that out,” Spencer spoke emphatically. “You almost died in the process, and now there are thousands of victims who are going to go home – all thanks to you.”

Wiping at your eyes, you looked at your husband, “You’re biased.” That felt true, but Spencer was the person who knew you best in the world.

“What’s holding you back?” He murmured gently, sweeping strands of your hair behind your ears.

Smiling unsurely, you closed your eyes, “Fear of the future. In the past nine years, the longest I’ve ever been home was four weeks. I don’t… What do you want me to do?”

He shook his head slowly, “it’s not my decision.” A diplomatic answer, you should’ve guessed.

“But what do you want me to do?” You pressed.

Sighing, you watched him weigh his options, “If my choices are you going back out into the field and getting hurt again, where maybe it doesn’t have this good of an outcome, or you, safe at home, where I get to see you more than approximately three months a year, then the choice is clear.”

When he laid it out for you like that, it was pretty clear. “Maybe I could finally see what all the BAU spouses are talking about. You know, how you’re never home,” you said. Some part of you always felt disconnected from the other BAU family members, Spencer wasn’t the one who was never home, you were.

Spencer laughed lightly, “We could celebrate your birthday together.” That was the one day you always missed. Almost six years together, and something always came up on your birthday.

“I’ve never had this before,” you whispered, there was still something about it that felt tentative, almost frail.

Smilingly softly, Spencer reached out and took your hand in his, “Had what before?”

You beamed, “A future to plan.” Everything was always laid out for you, every day was spent waiting for the next directive, a new assignment. “I mean, not in nine years.”

There were always dreams, late-night murmurs with Spencer about a house with a yard and kids running around, but they were just dreams. The nights when you were able to sleep next to each other. “Do you have plans for us?”

Nodding rapidly, you answered, “Oh yeah, you and me, I’ve got big plans for us.”

please remember to like, reblog, and comment if you enjoyed :-)

#criminal minds #spencer reid #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid fanfic #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #written by margot #spencer reid angst #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds angst #criminal minds fluff #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds fic #dr spencer reid #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds hurt/comfort #spencer reid hurt/comfort #spencer x retired!reader

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hellenhighwater · 2 months

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I was doing research on the ArtPrize thing, because research is how I handle very nearly any issue, and I'm trying to set my expectations reasonably, given that it's one of the largest and most lucrative art competitions in North America. And I was reading up on the voting process, because some of the prizes are awarded based on popular vote. The first vote by an individual has to be placed on a smartphone in the geographic region of Grand Rapids, MI, but subsequent votes (one a day per entry) can be from anywhere, so long as the phone started in GR. There's $600,000 in awards and grants this year, so voting matters in determining who gets not-insignificant amounts of money.

You know how many votes were cast last year? 30,000. Thirty thousand. Across every category, not just for the winning art piece. That is not actually that many votes. I have more than that number of you right here, my poor captive audience.

Now, if I can just figure out how to get all of you into Grand Rapids during the month of September, I'd have this in the bag. It wouldn't have to be for long. Just a brief convention of fellow tunglr users, for just a moment, just a quiiiick....dash...c

#anyone who votes for me gets an extra hour in the ballpit #genuinely I will be doing my best for this but realistically I think I do have to tap into some more fringe demographic to win anything #because historically winning entries are 1. large 2. happy 3. related to some specific element of the artists identity #and what i am doing is 1. small 2. a bummer my dudes and 3. as divorced from my individual identity as i can make it #still! I do not half ass things! I shall be wholeassing this art prize operation #and that will also mean that I will have a queued series of posts #probably process videos etc #with the voting link in september #and a hashtag you can use to block it im not cruel #i shall continue to provide updates as we go

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mostlysignssomeportents · 1 year

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How Google’s trial secrecy lets it control the coverage

I'm coming to Minneapolis! Oct 15: Presenting The Internet Con at Moon Palace Books. Oct 16: Keynoting the 26th ACM Conference On Computer-Supported Cooperative Work and Social Computing.

"Corporate crime" is practically an oxymoron in America. While it's true that the single most consequential and profligate theft in America is wage theft, its mechanisms are so obscure and, well, dull that it's easy to sell us on the false impression that the real problem is shoplifting:

https://newrepublic.com/post/175343/wage-theft-versus-shoplifting-crime

Corporate crime is often hidden behind Dana Clare's Shield Of Boringness, cloaked in euphemisms like "risk and compliance" or that old favorite, "white collar crime":

https://pluralistic.net/2021/12/07/solar-panel-for-a-sex-machine/#a-single-proposition

And corporate crime has a kind of performative complexity. The crimes come to us wreathed in specialized jargon and technical terminology that make them hard to discern. Which is wild, because corporate crimes occur on a scale that other crimes – even those committed by organized crime – can't hope to match:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/10/12/no-criminals-no-crimes/#get-out-of-jail-free-card

But anything that can't go on forever eventually stops. After decades of official tolerance (and even encouragement), corporate criminals are finally in the crosshairs of federal enforcers. Take National Labor Relations Board general counsel Jennifer Abruzzo's ruling in Cemex: when a company takes an illegal action to affect the outcome of a union election, the consequence is now automatic recognition of the union:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/09/06/goons-ginks-and-company-finks/#if-blood-be-the-price-of-your-cursed-wealth

That's a huge deal. Before, a boss could fire union organizers and intimidate workers, scuttle the union election, and then, months or years later, pay a fine and some back-wages…and the union would be smashed.

The scale of corporate crime is directly proportional to the scale of corporations themselves. Big companies aren't (necessarily) led by worse people, but even small sins committed by the very largest companies can affect millions of lives.

That's why antitrust is so key to fighting corporate crime. To make corporate crimes less harmful, we must keep companies from attaining harmful scale. Big companies aren't just too big to fail and too big to jail – they're also too big for peaceful coexistence with a society of laws.

The revival of antitrust enforcement is such a breath of fresh air, but it's also fighting headwinds. For one thing, there's 40 years of bad precedent from the nightmare years of pro-monopoly Reaganomics to overturn:

https://pluralistic.net/ApexPredator

It's not just precedents in the outcomes of trials, either. Trial procedure has also been remade to favor corporations, with judges helping companies stack the deck in their own favor. The biggest factor here is secrecy: blocking recording devices from courts, refusing to livestream the proceedings, allowing accused corporate criminals to clear the courtroom when their executives take the stand, and redacting or suppressing the exhibits:

https://prospect.org/power/2023-09-27-redacted-case-against-amazon/

When a corporation can hide evidence and testimony from the public and the press, it gains broad latitude to dispute critics, including government enforcers, based on evidence that no one is allowed to see, or, in many cases, even describe. Take Project Nessie, the program that the FTC claims Amazon used to compel third-party sellers to hike prices across many categories of goods:

https://www.wsj.com/business/retail/amazon-used-secret-project-nessie-algorithm-to-raise-prices-6c593706

Amazon told the press that the FTC has "grossly mischaracterize[d]" Project Nessie. The DoJ disagrees, but it can't say why, because the Project Nessie files it based its accusations on have been redacted, at Amazon's insistence. Rather than rebutting Amazon's claim, FTC spokesman Douglas Farrar could only say "We once again call on Amazon to move swiftly to remove the redactions and allow the American public to see the full scope of what we allege are their illegal monopolistic practices."

It's quite a devastating gambit: when critics and prosecutors make specific allegations about corporate crimes, the corporation gets to tell journalists, "No, that's wrong, but you're not allowed to see the reason we say it's wrong."

It's a way to work the refs, to get journalists – or their editors – to wreathe bold claims in endless hedging language, or to avoid reporting on the most shocking allegations altogether. This, in turn, keeps corporate trials out of the public eye, which reassures judges that they can defer to further corporate demands for opacity without facing an outcry.

That's a tactic that serves Google well. When the company was dragged into court by the DoJ Antitrust Division, it demanded – and received – a veil of secrecy that is especially ironic given the company's promise "to organize the world's information and make it universally accessible and useful":

https://usvgoogle.org/trial-update-9-22

While this veil has parted somewhat, it is still intact enough to allow the company to work the refs and kill disfavorable reporting from the trial. Last week, Megan Gray – ex-FTC, ex-DuckDuckGo – published an editorial in Wired reporting on her impression of an explosive moment in the Google trial:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/10/03/not-feeling-lucky/#fundamental-laws-of-economics

According to Gray, Google had run a program to mess with the "semantic matching" on queries, silently appending terms to users' searches that caused them to return more ads – and worse results. This generated more revenue for Google, at the expense of advertisers who got billed to serve ads that didn't even match user queries.

Google forcefully disputed this claim:

https://twitter.com/searchliaison/status/1709726778170786297

They contacted Gray's editors at Wired, but declined to release all the exhibits and testimony that Gray used to form her conclusions about Google's conduct; instead, they provided a subset of the relevant materials, which cast doubt on Gray's accusations.

Wired removed Gray's piece, with an unsigned notice that "WIRED editorial leadership has determined that the story does not meet our editorial standards. It has been removed":

https://www.wired.com/story/google-antitrust-lawsuit-search-results/

But Gray stands by her piece. She admits that she might have gotten some of the fine details wrong, but that these were not material to the overall point of her story, that Google manipulated search queries to serve more ads at the expense of the quality of the results:

https://twitter.com/megangrA/status/1711035354134794529

She says that the piece could and should have been amended to reflect these fine-grained corrections, but that in the absence of a full record of the testimony and exhibits, it was impossible for her to prove to her editors that her piece was substantively correct.

I reviewed the limited evidence that Google permitted to be released and I find her defense compelling. Perhaps you don't. But the only way we can factually resolve this dispute is for Google to release the materials that they claim will exonerate them. And they won't, though this is fully within their power.

I've seen this playbook before. During the early months of the pandemic, a billionaire who owned a notorious cyberwarfare company used UK libel threats to erase this fact from the internet – including my own reporting – on the grounds that the underlying research made small, non-material errors in characterizing a hellishly complex financial Rube Goldberg machine that was, in my opinion, deliberately designed to confuse investigators.

Like the corporate crimes revealed in the Panama Papers and Paradise Papers, the gambit is complicated, but it's not sophisticated:

Make everything as complicated as possible;

Make everything as secret as possible;

Dismiss any accusations by claiming errors in the account of the deliberately complex arrangements, which can't be rectified because the relevant materials are a secret.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/10/09/working-the-refs/#but-id-have-to-kill-you

My next novel is The Lost Cause, a hopeful novel of the climate emergency. Amazon won't sell the audiobook, so I made my own and I'm pre-selling it on Kickstarter!

Image: Jason Rosenberg (modified) https://www.flickr.com/photos/underpants/12069086054/

CC BY https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0/

Japanexperterna.se (modified) https://www.flickr.com/photos/japanexperterna/15251188384/

CC BY-SA 2.0: https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/2.0/

#pluralistic #secrecy #opacity #google #antitrust #trustbusting #wired #working the refs #megan grey #semantic matching

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chanaleah · 10 days

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Very recently, the FBI published hate crime statistics from 2023 in the US.

In the past year's data that has been reported (September 2023-January 2024), Jewish Americans faced the largest amount of hate crimes of all groups in the country, irregardless of category.

If you think antisemitism doesn't exist in the US today, you need to rethink your position.

Here is a link to the FBI's Crime Data Explorer if you wish to view the data yourself - note that you will need to filter by hate crimes.

disclaimer for anyone who tries to twist my words: this post is not meant to nor should be used to invalidate discrimination faced by any other group. all hate crimes are awful, no matter who is the target

clarification: largest amount of hate crimes in the fall of 2023. (Sep 2023-January 2024) So far, the FBI has not published statistics for hate crimes in 2024. If you’re looking at the statistics, filter by 1 year to see just hate crimes in that time period.

#jewish #jumblr #chana talks #judaism #israel #am yisrael chai #i stand with israel #antisemitism #anti zionism #leftist antisemitism #white supermacists #united states #hate crimes #hate crimes tw #anti-jewish hate #judenhass #oppression #racism #discrimination

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fandoms-x-reader · 4 months

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Clueless

Requested By: @opiopal

Headcannons

Summary: The brothers' trying to confess their love to you; but, you are just a little bit oblivious to their signs of affection.

Lucifer let out a sigh as he rubbed his temples for the tenth time that night. As if on cue, you knocked on the door, carrying a cup of tea. Lucifer smiled softly at you when he noticed your presence, silently inviting you into the study.

You immediately walked in, noticing the large pile of paperwork that was sitting on his desk. They were separated into different piles, sorting the different categories. Mammon’s bills were noticeably the largest pile.

“Wow, I didn’t even know it was possible to get in that much debt,” you said, handing Lucifer the cup of tea. He let out a small chuckle, raising an eyebrow in agreement.

You sat down in the chair across from him. “Want some help?” you asked, already sliding a pile of paperwork in front of you. You never had any idea what any of the paperwork meant, but you had always been willing to help Lucifer with it.

He watched you as you started reading the top paper of the pile, your eyebrows knitting together as you tried to understand the words.

Whenever you felt like Lucifer was taking too long to do the paperwork, or when you felt like he needed some time to relax, you came in to offer your services. You knew Lucifer wouldn’t stop until everything was done, so the only option was to help get it done faster.

He politely refused your offer once. But, you were persistent. You stayed in the study with him the whole time he was doing paperwork. You continued to bring him tea and rub his shoulders. Whatever you could do to help. Eventually, you ended up sitting in a chair next to him. You refused to leave the study before he did and ended up falling asleep, your head gently resting against his shoulder.

Lucifer tensed up when he felt your head against his shoulder, but when he looked over at you, he immediately relaxed. He found comfort in your sleeping form, taking in all of your features and how peaceful you looked when you were sleeping.

He wasn’t ready to admit it yet, but you had already stolen his heart. And, having you stay the whole night in his study with him, just to keep him company, only furthered his affections. A human caring for a demon.

He wanted to laugh at the foolishness of it, but in reality all it did was bring a smile to his face. Because he knew full well he cared about you just as much.

There was only one problem - getting you to actually admit you had feelings for Lucifer.

He could see your feelings in the intimate moments the two of you shared, the way you always went to him for protection, and the way you always made sure he was taken care of.

Likewise, he tried to make his feelings known by holding your hand when the two of you were walking around town, or asking you to go to dinner with him at the fanciest restaurants. He always did what he could to impress you.

Yet, whenever he tried to confess his feelings for you - he got nothing back. He would compliment you and you would brush it off. He would tell you he enjoys spending time with you and you would reply nonchalantly, as if his words had no effect on you. Yet your actions towards him sung a different a tune.

Now, here you were, once again, trying to help him with his paperwork. Lucifer couldn’t help but admire you for a moment before walking over to your side.

“So, how do you want me to fill out this one?” you asked him, keeping your eyes trained on the paper. You didn’t mind doing the paperwork on your own, but you wanted to make sure you were doing it right.

So, you frequently asked him how he wanted it done. He would come to your side just like this and point certain sections out, explaining what to write in each one.

But, there was a different idea on Lucifer’s mind today.

He gently took your hand from the paper, causing you to look at him and the second your eyes meet, he tells you, “I love you.”

It’s very straightforward, as always. He had enough of skirting around his feelings. Whether you felt the same way or not, he needed to tell you once and for all.

You sat there for a moment after he said those words, and he respectfully gave you all of the time you needed to process.

Lucifer…loved you.

It made sense now that he said it. He was always more kind and caring when it came to you. He always prioritized your needs and made sure you were taken care of, and…oh, wait. That’s exactly what you do for him, too. Does that mean?

You placed a gentle kiss on his cheek before telling him, “I love you too.”

To everyone else, yours and Mammon’s feelings for each other were as clear as day.

You were constantly pining over each other.

It started out as small glances that were sent in each other’s directions. Then, Mammon wanted to spend all of his time with you.

The other brothers didn’t think much of it at first. After all, Lucifer did put him in charge of making sure nothing happened to you. So, it only made sense that he was consistently around you.

But, when Mammon started acting jealous when you were around the others, that’s when they picked up on the fact that Mammon had feelings for you.

He couldn’t take his eyes off of you when you were with him, and when you weren’t he was always talking about you, or sending you a message telling you to come meet up with him.

It was obvious that the small crush that Mammon had on you had turned into something much more serious when they found out that he had been saving up money to get you a gift. Saving up…Mammon…

The brothers urged Mammon to confess his feelings for you. After all, it was pretty obvious to them that you liked him back.

You were constantly going along with his schemes no matter how silly or dangerous they seemed. Whenever Mammon got into trouble, they could always count on the fact that you would be right there beside him.

Whenever he got punished by Lucifer, you were there to help take care of him and make him feel better. You would cheer him up and almost negate the punishment in the first place. It was worth getting in trouble, if this was the treatment he got from you afterwards.

Not to mention, the countless movie nights you and Mammon had that the brothers had walked in on multiple occasions. You and Mammon were always cuddled up on the couch, under a blanket, his arms wrapping around you.

But try getting someone who’s clueless when it comes to their feelings and a tsundere to confess their love for each other.

It was an aggravating task, and one the brothers were just about sick of. They were tired of the yearning looks the two of you gave each other. They were tired of you being so close, your arms wrapped around each other, only to go your separate ways and act as if you were just acting lovey dovey moments before. Something had to be done.

You and Mammon were sitting before Lucifer who was giving you both a very long lecture after he found you helping Mammon win at the casino by counting cards.

He was demanding to know which of you came up with the idea in the first place. But, every time he asked the question, he was answered with you and Mammon desperately trying to place the blame on yourselves to keep the other out of trouble.

Lucifer was only getting more angry when you and Mammon both refused to back down. And, what was worse was that the whole house was subject to Lucifer’s yelling which meant that all the brothers had to deal with the lecture as well.

“Oh for the love of - would you two just admit that you love each other already?!” Satan snapped, shutting his book and walking up to the three of you. Mammon was blushing, trying to stutter out an excuse when Satan cut in, “Save you excuses. It’s pretty obvious how you feel about her. When’s the last time you offered to take the blame for someone instead of placing it on them?”

Mammon was at a loss for words, because he knew his brother was right. He can’t remember a time he offered to shoulder the blame so that someone else wouldn’t get in trouble.

“You’re just as bad, Y/N. No matter where he goes or what he’s doing, you always seem to take part in Mammon’s schemes,” Asmo added, joining the scene.

Mammon was blushing furiously as he was being stared down by his brothers. You sure you would have been too. But, your mind was focused on Asmo’s words.

Before you knew it, Mammon was taking your hand and leading you to his room. As soon as you were inside, he closed the door. “Stupid brothers…thinking you have feelings for me,” Mammon muttered, unable to face you as he paced around his room.

But, it was too late. Asmo’s work was already done and the realization of your own feelings was too strong to deny at this point.

“I think…I might,” you admit, not moving from in front of the door. Mammon froze in his spot after hearing your words. He blushed even more as he looked over at you. Did he hear you right?

“What?” he asked softly, approaching you. “I think I might…have feelings for you,” you reiterated. It made sense now why you were always putting yourself in harm's way just to be with Mammon.

Mammon immediately pulled you into him, holding you for a moment before placing a kiss to your forehead.

It was hard for him to admit his feelings, and you were okay with that. As long as he continued to show you them through his actions.

Levi may seem like a nervous wreck when it comes to his emotions, but he is not completely clueless. He might not be able to express his emotions properly, but he has seen enough anime and read enough manga to know when someone has feelings for someone else.

Because of this, it was pretty easy for him to tell when he had feelings for you. At first, you were just the annoying normie that the brothers got stuck with. Then, when you helped him get Mammon to pay him back, he thought you were a bit of a pushover. Who just lets a demon convince them to make a pact with another demon?!

When you beat him in the TSL Showdown, he was angry, but he also realized you weren’t a pushover. You were a force to be reckoned with. You may have been from the human world, but you were not a normie. Which is why he made a pact with you.

After he made that pact, he found himself wanting to spend more and more time with you. A new game came out? He immediately went to you to be his player two. A new manga was released? Come over! You can read it together!

Pretty much anytime something happened that he cared about, he wanted you to be there with him to experience it; and, that’s when he realized his feelings. When he realized everything seemed so much more fun when you were there with him.

Never in a million years would Levi think you shared the same feelings for him. He was too much of an otaku shut-in for you to feel that way. It’s just…every time he asks you to play a game, you show up within minutes just as excited.

And, when you watch anime together, you sit just a bit closer than where a friend would sit. And, you’ve fallen asleep with your head on his shoulder multiple times when you’re reading manga together. So…maybe you could?

You were currently sitting next to him on the couch watching one of Levi’s favorite animes. This was your first time watching it, but he had already seen it multiple times. Which was a good thing, because he was not paying attention to a single word that was being said.

Instead, his attention was on your hand that was resting in between the two of you, inches away from him. He was not the confident type. He was not the type to make the first move. But, he had grown tired of waiting for you to make the first move. And, if you didn’t like it then he would just make an excuse and say he was trying to adjust or something. He’s got this.

Levi reaches his hand out for yours right as you move it away to itch your nose. Levi let out a startled scream. In none of his plans did you pull away from him before his hand touched yours. Now his hand was just being held in the air, unsure where to go.

“Um, what are you doing Levi?” you asked him, focusing your attention on him now as he quickly put his hand down. Play it cool. Play it cool.

“N-Nothing! It’s not like I was trying to hold your hand because I’m totally in love with you or anything!”

Smooth.

Levi was now blushing, looking anywhere but you while you sat there shocked. Memories of yours and Levi’s time spent together flashed through your mind as you felt your own feelings surfacing, and you were finally able to put a name to the emotion you were feeling.

You moved even closer to Levi, gently taking his hand in yours and interlacing your fingers before resting your head on his shoulder. “I love you too, Levi,” you told him.

He will now die from happiness. Thank you.

Satan prides himself on being smart. He has learned many things over his time being alive and he prides himself on the knowledge he has acquired. But, when it comes to emotions, he isn’t nearly as well-versed.

And yet, even though he was completely inexperienced with these feelings, you were even more clueless. You were so wonderfully smart in other things. Sometimes, you even take Satan by surprise with your knowledge. And yet, when it came to your relationship, you were oblivious and it was adorably infuriating.

Satan was sure that you reciprocated his feelings. He had read about love many times over in his countless books. He knew the telltale signs.

The late nights that you would spend in the library reading with him. The way you always smiled when he entered the room. The way you also came to him for help when you needed some extra tutoring in a class.

You would lie your head on his shoulder while you were reading, as if it was the most natural thing in the world. Satan would be blushing the entire time, but when he looked over at you - you remained calm. Did you even realize what you were doing to him?

You were always the one at his door when he was in a fit of rage. You would approach him slowly, taking his hand in yours or sometimes even hugging him. You did whatever you could to calm him down. And, you were never scared because you knew he would never hurt you. If that wasn’t love, he didn’t know what was.

But, you never registered why exactly you would do these things. In your head, you were just close with Satan.

Satan did everything he could to try and make you understand his feelings for you. He would compliment your appearance and you would thank him, blushing slightly. He would ask to take you out on dates and you would always agree. But, when the night ended, nothing changed. You would always leave Satan at the end of the night to go to your room.

Satan had enough of staying in limbo land with you. If you weren’t going to realize your feelings on your own, then he was just going to have to make you realize them.

He decided to make his feelings known the next time the two of you were in the library together. It would be the perfect place to confess since it would be just the two of you with no distractions from his brothers.

You were sitting next to him on the couch, your legs stretched across his lap as he gently rubbed them. Satan held a book in his hand, but spent more time glancing over at you then actually reading it.

You were perfectly content reading your book, not noticing anything else. Satan was trying to find the right words. He had spent a long time planning out his confession to you; but, now that he was right next to you, he couldn’t help but feel just a little bit nervous.

“Y/N, I love spending time with you,” he told you, analyzing your reaction. You looked up from your book for a split second to send him a smile. “I love spending time with you too, Satan.” You immediately went back to reading.

Satan let out a sigh. Right, he needed to be more obvious.

He gently pushed your legs off of him so that he could move closer to you, his leg now brushing against yours. He stared at you for a moment, and once you realized, you gently placed your book now, marking the spot you just read.

You turned to face him and waited for him to say something. For once, words were failing Satan. He couldn’t come up with a single combination of them that he was sure would get his feelings across to you.

Well, actions speak louder than words. Satan gently cupped your face in his hands before leaning forward and gently placing his lips on yours. You were surprised, but kissed him back.

When he pulled away, he looked into your eyes and said in a very serious tone, “I love you.” He was praying you would finally understand what he’s been trying to tell you for some time now.

“Oh,” you replied, your eyebrows furrowing slightly. You were shocked at how good it felt to hear him say that. How good it felt to have his lips on yours. How good it felt every time you were with him. “Ohhh.”

It was like you were having an epiphany, as if everything had suddenly clicked in your head. Satan looked at you as if he expected you to react this way, but also with hope.

You smiled at him before replying, “I love you too.”

Asmo was the Avatar of Lust which meant he was an expert when it came to things involving love. Because of this, Asmo could easily pick up on your feelings when the two of you started growing closer.

It started with small actions that he admired. The way you would blush when he sat close to you to apply your make-up. The way you would act flustered when he would compliment the way you looked. The way you would smile at him when he would gaze into your eyes.

But, it wasn’t just your reactions to him that made him realize you had feelings towards him. It was your actions towards him as well

You saw him at his most vulnerable times, when he had no makeup on and his hair wasn’t done. When he wasn’t wearing the perfect mask he always had on; and, every time you still complimented him. You admired how good he looked naturally.

You sat with him for hours while he was getting ready for a particularly important event and you would help him do his make-up or hair. You would help him choose the best outfit or paint his nails for him. Whatever he wanted you to do, you would do it with no questions asked.

Not to mention your small moments of PDA like holding his hand while the two of you are shopping around town. Or when he peppers kisses on your face to make you feel special.

You were practically already in a relationship! And yet, when it came to your feelings for Asmo it seemed like you were totally lost.

He would make flirty comments and you would blush at them, sometimes even coming back with your own witty comments. But, when he tried to actually confess his feelings for you, it was like his words went completely over your head.

Asmo was beginning to question if you really did share the same feelings he had. Either way, he had to know once and for all.

You were sitting in front of Asmo, your eyebrows furrowing slightly in concentration as you applied a shade of eyeshadow to his eyelids. You were trying very hard to make him look perfect, but it was hard because he kept opening his eyes to look at you.

“Asmo, you have to keep your eyes closed if you don’t want me to mess up,” you told him with a small smile.

He couldn’t help it, he loved being this close to you and being able to admire your features. He stared at you for a moment before saying, “I love you, Y/N.”

Asmo wasn’t afraid of saying those three words. He admired them, he flaunted them. He may have said them a little too much. Whenever you would do something good for him, those words managed to escape from his lips. So, you didn’t think anything of it when he said that, just giving him a smile in response.

“You love me too, right?” Asmo asked, his eyes lighting up as his heart started pounding against his chest, something he was not used to feeling. “Of course!” you replied nonchalantly, continuing to attempt to apply his make up.

But, Asmo wasn’t satisfied with that answer. He gently grabbed your wrist, stopping your movements. He looked deep into your eyes and repeated his question.

“No, Y/N…You love me too, right?”

The intensity of his gaze was enough to send your body into shock as the weight of his words finally crashed down on you. You loved him too, right?

You met his intensity and seriousness as you looked into his eyes. Finally, understanding why you felt so connected to him.

“Of course.”

Beel’s love language is food. Shocker.

He was a little bit clueless when it came to love himself. If you buy him a gift, he would appreciate it, but he wouldn’t think twice of it. If you asked him on a date, he would go thinking you were bored.

But, if you buy or make him food, his attention is all on you.

The two of you had gone out to eat with each other a few times now. Beel always appreciated how if you asked him to go out, you made sure it was to a place that had food. In fact, you made it a point to mention that when asking him out.

Beel noticed his feelings for you one day in the cafeteria at school. He was sitting at the table with everyone, pouting because Lucifer had banned him from getting more food. If he didn’t the cafeteria would have been out of food before any of the other students got to eat any.

But, you couldn’t stand to see Beel so upset and you had a lot to eat at breakfast that morning. So, you selflessly offered Beel your lunch. You were like his knight in shining armor when he saw you offer your plate of food. But, didn’t humans need to eat too? You assured him you weren’t hungry and that he could eat it. That was all the encouragement he needed to quickly eat your lunch.

Later in the day, Beel thought about the interaction and he realized it was the first time he hesitated to eat food. It was a natural reaction. He wanted to - needed to - make sure you would be okay without it, because he cared.

From then on, Beel found himself wanting to be around you more often. Especially if you were on cooking duty.

He would sit with you in the kitchen while you were cooking, watching your movements. He was mesmerized by you. And it made him so excited when you asked him to taste something you made to make sure the others would like it. He did everything in his power to not eat all of it himself.

If he was on cooking duty, you would sit with him as well. He would place you on the counter while he cooked and feed you bites of the food he made. He loved watching the way your eyes lit up when you tasted something you really liked and it would give him the proper motivation to find something else you would like.

Beel had never felt such an intimate connection with someone before he met you. You were like a food he was craving to have and his body would never be satisfied until he did have you.

You felt the same way, right? You had to. Beel was having a hard time not confessing his feelings to you. He expected you to be feeling the same, but you looked unbothered when you were around him.

You decided to do something nice for Beel. He had a really big game and as much as you wanted to be there to support him, you knew he would need something more than support. So, you stayed behind and decided to cook him a huge meal, knowing that he would work himself up an appetite.

You cooked all of his favorite things to eat, some of them taking hours to make. But, you wanted it to be perfect for him. You just knew he was going to win and you wanted him to have a celebratory meal waiting for him when he got home.

Beel did win his game and he was starving. Lucifer offered to take everyone out to eat, but Beel wanted to go to the House of Lamentation first to take you with. He was so glad that he did.

The second he entered the house, he was overwhelmed by how good everything smelled. It almost made him drool as he thought about the sight that awaited him.

His feet moved faster than his feet as he found himself making his way to the dining room. And, when he got there, his eyes widened. There was a large feast on the table, and he immediately recognized the dishes as all of his favorites.

You were setting another dish on the table, covered in ingredients and looking a bit run down from all the hard work you had been doing. You turned around and jumped a bit when you saw Beel standing there.

“Oh, Beel. You’re back early! I’m still making dessert,” you told him, scurrying off into the kitchen to finish the dessert.

Beel looked shell-shocked as he stared at the food, every inch of his body wanting to immediately dig in. But, he convinced himself to follow you into the kitchen first. He saw you putting the last finishing touches on the dessert and he asked, “Did you make all of this yourself?”

You gave him a small smile as you told him, “I wanted you to have a nice dinner to celebrate your win! You did…win, right?” Beel nodded his head and his heart swelled at the smile you gave him. No one’s ever done something like this for him, and he was so thankful his brothers weren’t there to ruin the moment.

Beel could no longer conceal his affection for you as he walked over and immediately engulfed you in a hug. One arm was around your waist while the other was around your back, his hand in your hair, pulling you closer to him as he softly told you, “I love you.”

You thought you would tense up when he hugged you intimately, even more so when he said those words. Instead, you melted into his touch, the realization of your feelings for the Avatar of Gluttony coming crashing down on you. “I love you too, Beel.”

He smiled at your words, finally releasing you from the hug only to pick you up and carry you over to the table. He placed you firmly on his lap and began to eat, making sure to feed you bites as well. He was so content having the two things he loves more than anything.

Teasing was one of Belphie’s favorite things to do. It didn’t matter who was on the receiving end. It could be you, it could be one of his brothers, it could even be Lord Diavolo. As long as he got a good reaction, he didn’t care.

You were by far his favorite to mess with though. Being the youngest of the brothers, he was used to getting his way. And you were not an exception to that.

If he wanted to use you as a pillow, you would oblige. If you didn’t, he would come lay on your lap anyway. But, you never declined his offer for cuddles anyway. Belphie would make sure to be as close to you as possible when he was cuddling you.

If you were sitting on the couch, it wasn’t good enough to simply lay on your lap. No, he would wrap his arms around you, snuggling even further into you.

If you were laying on the bed, he would lie on your chest, burying his head in the crook of your neck, taking in your scent while his other limbs draped over you. Sometimes, he would place his hand over your heart to assure himself that you were still alive.

What Belphie was not used to was someone else getting their way when it came to him.

Belphie was always the one who decided when and how he was going to get cuddles from you. So, when you came into the twin’s room, seeking him out, he was a bit shocked.

He was sleeping on his back in the bed when he felt a sudden weight drop on him. He immediately woke up with a small grunt and froze when he realized you were next to him, reversing the positions.

You were laying on his chest, pressed up all the way against him. Your arm was draped over him with your hand resting on one side of his neck while your head was nuzzled into the other side. Your leg rested across him, keeping him from moving.

Belphie was blushing when you laid on him like this. No one had ever cuddled him like this. He was usually the one who had to snuggle up to others. He didn’t move though, finding comfort in having you draped over him for once. That’s when he knew you had to have feelings for him as well. I mean, you sought him out. You wanted cuddles, you didn’t just tolerate them.

And don’t even get started on the teasing. Belphie loved teasing others, yes, but he was not a fan when it came to being teased himself.

He had never met someone who could really match his energy when it came to pulling pranks or getting under someone’s skin. And then you came along, and did it without even trying.

All you had to say was something about Belphie being a good cuddle partner or cute and he was flustered. It was frustrating for him, especially because you always left him wanting more from you. More compliments, more cuddles, just more of everything. But, you never continued. You led him to believe you had feelings for him but when he tried to act on your mutual feelings, it was like his words fell on deaf ears.

Which is precisely the predicament Belphie was in right now. He had been laying in bed with you, his head tucked into your neck to muffle his words. He had mumbled them against your skin, multiple times now.

And you just continued to scroll on your D.D.D. not even sparing a glance in his direction. After he said ‘I love you’ the last time, he was irritated. Especially when he opened his eyes to see your attention on the device, completely unphased.

He rolled his eyes and let out a groan of frustration as he took your D.D.D. and chucked it across the room. “Would you just tell me you love me, already?”

A blush coated Belphie’s cheeks at his sudden outburst and you looked at him with confusion. Love? Confusion quickly turned into realization as you suddenly understood that the way you cuddled and teased Belphie wasn’t because he was your friend, but because you had feelings for him.

“I love you, Belphie.”

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