Jennifer Jareau - Tumblr Posts

No Place Like Home

Derek Morgan x reader

TW: Mentions of sexual assault on reader, murder, blood, violence, regular criminal minds stuff, angst with a happy ending, this gets very dark at some points so please read at your own discretion, I think that’s it. Lmk if I missed anything.

₊‧ʚ ﹆・︵︵ ₊˚๑ ᕱ🌿ᕱ ꒱✦ ₊ ︵︵・₊﹆ɞ‧₊

Baraboo Wisconsin.

Y/N L/N’s hometown. The one she left the second she turned sixteen and never looked back. Baraboo is a quaint little place, beautiful views and fun places to go if someone knows where to look. It’s a tight-knit community that’s for sure. Where everyone knows everyone and whatever secrets someone has also belong to the rest of the town. It can be endearing at times but also make an individual feel claustrophobic.

She never planned on coming back here. She graduated college at fourteen and worked her ass off to save enough money to leave by the time her sixteenth birthday rolled around. In fact, that was her birthday present to herself. To get the hell out of there.

Y/N’s father died when she was six years old. He was a hero, a firefighter. He died saving a family of six from a burning house. He was the only one who didn’t make it out alive that day. He managed to get every person out with minimal injuries. Just couldn’t seem to save himself.

After he died, Y/N’s mother, Lisa L/N, was a mess. Completely ignored her daughter after her husband’s, started drinking. Y/N practically raised herself. Until her step father came into the picture. Adrian Cole. The name itself gives her sickly chills just thinking about it.

Y/N continued her studies after getting her first bachelors degree at fourteen. She ended up with a doctorate and three masters under her belt by the time she turned eighteen. The girl is what most specialists would consider a “high potential intellectual.” She has advanced cognitive abilities that contain superior pattern recognition, enhanced situational awareness, an eidetic memory, advanced deception detection, superior deductive reasoning, mental simulation/scenario building, and advanced problem solving.

She’s rather valuable to say the least.

Y/N has had the world at her fingertips since she was born. She’s smart, cunning, calculated. She knows exactly how to get what she wants. Unfortunately, she doesn’t screw up from time to time.

Hence why she got arrested for petty theft when she was eighteen.

She had been working odd jobs for her entire life. Bouncing around from city to city, trying to find a place she could make her home. She somehow ended up in Quantico Virginia, a random bus stop on a long list of places she could go. But it had been a couple months since being there, and one week she didn’t make enough to get herself some basic grocery supplies, so she thought it wouldn’t be the most terrible thing to snag a loaf of bread on the way out of one of the many grocery stores in the city. She didn’t think they’d truly care about one loaf.

Clearly, she was wrong. They apparently needed that bread way more than she did.

And that’s how she ended up the in police station. It wasn’t the most pleasant experience at first. Most of the officers just thought she was some punk kid who got a kick out of stealing. She didn’t even bother trying to explain why she did what she did because they wouldn’t believe her in the first place. And it’s not like they could put her in the system, she was eighteen.

However, as they were processing her, she noticed some of the detectives talking about a murder investigation. They had a man who was found dead in his living room, and the prime suspect was the wife who mysteriously disappeared after it happened.

The thing about having advanced cognitive abilities, is that it’s easy to get stuck inside the many wrinkles of the brain. She also has a compulsive need to correct everything she sees is wrong, and that is why she interrupted their conversation by yelling across the station that the wife is actually a second victim, not the perpetrator.

Of course, most of the detectives thought she was full of crap and didn’t have any idea what she was talking about. The commander however, seemed to have a different opinion. She asked Y/N what made her think that the wife could be a victim in the case.

That led to her explaining that the photos in the crime scene board indicate that there was a third part, and that’s who killed the husband and kidnapped the wife. She pointed out how there were microfibers on the legs of the chair in the photo and that shows how someone had been tied to it with duct tape. And it clearly couldn’t have been the husband with the way there was no ligature marks or redness on his skin.

Needless to say, they found the wife and the person who killed the husband. Turns out it was his best friend who was having an affair with their son’s school teacher. The husband knew to much and threatened to tell his best friend’s wife which led to his demise. Who would’ve thought?

After that case, the commander offered her a position as a consultant on their cases. It gave Y/N the first feeling of stability she’s had in a very long time. She was even able to save enough to buy herself an apartment in the area, and put herself through the FBI academy. Her coworkers at the station were sad when they found out she had been recruited to one of the most elite units in the agency, but they knew her potential was to great to be stuck at the precinct for the rest of her life.

That’s why she’s currently back in Baraboo, the ripe age of twenty-five, with the rest of the Behavioral Analysis Unit team. The leader, Aaron Hotchner, and the rest of the group: David Rossi, Jennifer Jareau, Emily Prentiss, Doctor Spencer Reid, and the one and only… Derek Morgan.

From the moment Y/N met Derek, they clicked. They both have very similar traits but differ in the most important ways. They somehow manage to understand each other on a level that the rest of the team can’t comprehend. The two of them share flirty and playful banter constantly. Everyone in the office thought Penelope and Derek were bad, at least until Y/N sauntered in. She distinctly remember Spencer having to leave the room, his face flushed red after hearing a conversation between Derek and Y/N.

The two always brushed it off as a joke, or something they do to cope with the darkness of the job, but there’s always been a little something more lying underneath it. Neither of them have been able to acknowledge it out loud, but it’s not hard to see.

“How does it feel to be home, Princess?” Derek asks with his signature golden smile, full intention of getting a flirty reaction from her. He cracks his back as the rest of the team gets off the jet, getting ready to split up and head to the station or to the most recent crime scene.

Y/N keeps her eyes trained in the distance, her face cold, hard almost. “This hasn’t been my home for the past nineteen years,” she replies stoically before walking off to join Hotch and Rossi by one of the SUV’s.

Derek is taken aback by her demeanor. She’s never been one to turn down an opportunity to flirt or be witty, especially with him. Y/N has always been a bit closed off, but in the same way Derek is. She doesn’t tell anyone about her past, and she’s never asked him about his. It’s one of the many things he loves about her. She didn’t push when she knew not to. In fact, the most they knew about where the other came from was home towns. Now he did share some about his family because they’re important to him, and so is Y/N, but he never delved too deep. That is until about last year when he was arrested for murdering three boys back home.

Y/N was the only one who tried to help without digging to deep into the things Derek didn’t want found. It killed her a little bit to see how Derek broke down when confronting the real perpetrator, Carl Buford, who also molested Derek as a child. That particularly made it a rough case for her, for more than one reason.

“Reid, JJ,” Hotch calls out to the two. “I want you guys to head to the station with Rossi, see if you can nail down a geographical profile.” The trio nods before heading over to their own SUV. “Prentiss, you come with me to talk to the most recent victims family. Morgan, L/N, head to the crime scene. Sheriff Mills will meet you both there to discuss the rest of the details.”

Y/N nods silently before turning back to Derek. She gestures towards the third black car waiting for them, walking past him and over towards the driver’s seat. Derek grabs her wrist gently as she tries to open the door, “Babygirl, what the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“Following orders,” Y/N answers like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“Uh-uh,” Derek shakes his head. “Get your cute little ass in that passenger seat right now.” He demands.

“Derek, we don’t have time to argue over who’s gonna drive the damn car,” Y/N snaps, completely out of character. “It’s not that big of a deal.”

His eyebrows shoot up into his nonexistent hairline, “Whoa,” he puts his hands up. “I didn’t mean to upset you, sweetheart. I just like driving you around, that’s all. I thought it was like a little silent agreement we had. You being my passenger princess.”

Y/N’s face softens, but he can still see the anger behind her eyes. There’s definitely something wrong. She’s never been like this without a reason. A small sigh escapes her pink lips, “Okay…” she mumbles, very cutely in Derek’s opinion. “You can drive.”

Without another peep, Y/N climbs into her designated spot besides Derek. He casts her an unsure glance, wondering if maybe she’ll open up to him on the way to the scene, but unfortunately the entire ride was quiet. Apart from the playlist playing in the background. They both had created it for when they were partnered together on a case.

They pull up to the scene, no words uttered between them. Y/N stares out the window, sucking in a deep breath. Her knuckles are a pale white as she clutches onto the door handle. He wants to ask her what’s going through her mind, but knows better than to push when she’s like this.

She steps out of the vehicle, the gravel crunching beneath her feet, Derek following closely behind. As soon as they near the crime scene, she spots Sheriff Mills standing by the perimeter tape, arms crossed but eyes bright when he recognizes her.

“Well, I’ll be damned. Y/N L/N!” Mills calls out with a smile, his voice booming across the lot. “You’re a sight for sore eyes. How long’s it been?”

Y/N offers a small, genuine smile, feeling a rare sense of warmth. “Hey, Sheriff. It’s been a while. Nine years, I think.”

“Nine years,” he repeats with a shake of his head. “You disappeared on us, huh? Look at you now.” He glances over at Derek, curiosity sparking in his eyes.

Y/N glances between the two men. “This is Derek Morgan, one of the best profilers at the BAU.”

Derek steps forward and extends his hand. “It’s nice to meet you, sir.”

“Likewise,” Mills replies, shaking Derek’s hand firmly before turning back to Y/N. “You always had it in you to do something big.”

Derek watches the brief exchange with interest, noting how Y/N seems more at ease around the sheriff. There was history here, but also a quiet sense of trust. The sheriff gave Y/N a comforting nod before stepping back to let them work.

They cross under the yellow tape and into the scene, where the victim’s body lay partially covered. Derek’s voice is low but steady. “What are we looking at?”

Y/N knelt beside the body, her jaw tightening as she takes in the brutal injuries. “Ligature marks on the wrists and ankles…looks like she was tied up, maybe tortured before…” She let her words trail off, her eyes lingering on the deep gash across the victim’s neck. “The unsub wanted control, dominance. But there’s rage here too.”

Derek nods, crouching down next to her. “The way he escalates...it’s personal. There’s something he’s trying to prove with each kill. Could be revenge or a power trip.”

Y/N swallows hard, her breath hitching for a moment as she takes in the scene. She stands, brushing her hands on her pants as if trying to rid herself of the heaviness in the air.

Derek stands too, noticing the slight shift in her demeanor. He narrows his eyes, stepping closer to her. “You alright?”

Y/N hesitates, casting a glance back at the body. The familiarity of it all—the victim, her face—was a knife in her chest, twisting cruelly.

“I knew her,” Y/N finally admits, her voice barely above a whisper. “Her name’s Claire. We…we went to high school together.”

Derek’s brows furrow, concern flashing across his face. “You didn’t mention that at the briefing.”

She shrugs her shoulders, jaw clenching. “I didn’t think it would be relevant. I haven’t spoken to her in years.” Y/N turns away, looking out into the distance as if trying to find something to balance herself, her mind.

Derek’s hand gently rests on her shoulder, his touch grounding her in a way she wasn’t expecting. “If this is too much, you don’t have to–”

“I’m fine,” she snaps, though the sharpness in her tone is more for herself than him. She looks at Derek, the vulnerability showing through her usual hard exterior. “I just didn’t expect this.”

Derek softens. “You don’t have to be fine, Y/N. Not here, not with me.”

For a moment, their eyes locked, a silent understanding passing between them. But Y/N quickly broke away, determined to stay focused. “Let’s just…get back to work. We have to find this guy.”

They both turned back to the crime scene, their focus shifting back to the task at hand. But the air between them was heavier now, weighed down by the past that had resurfaced with a vengeance.

“Whoever did this,” Derek says quietly, “they knew how to get close. Claire trusted them.”

Y/N nods, her jaw clenched tightly. “He’s not a stranger to any of these women. He’s someone who knows how to blend in. And he’s getting more comfortable.”

Derek meets her eyes, a silent understanding passing between them. They have to catch this unsub before anyone else suffers the same fate. But now, more than ever, Y/N had a personal stake in it. And Derek was going to make sure that, whatever happened, he’d be there for her.

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The police station is humming with quiet intensity, the kind of buzz that always fills the air when the team is piecing together fragments of a case. They’ve been working nonstop, and the weight of the victims is hanging over all of them. Every detail matters now, every tiny revelation could lead them closer to the truth.

Hotch stands at the head of the room, looking over the maps, notes, and pictures strewn across the table. JJ, Reid, and Rossi are gathered around, quietly talking through the geographical profile they’ve been working on. Emily leans against the wall, flipping through her notes from the victimology interviews. Derek and Y/N, just back from the most recent crime scene, stand a bit apart, their body language tense but focused.

Hotch looks up from the map, his expression sharp and business-like. “What did you find at the crime scene?”

Derek steps forward, his eyes catching Y/N’s briefly before he speaks. “The victim was restrained before she was killed. Ligature marks on her wrists and ankles. She was tortured—cut up pretty bad across her torso. He took his time with her. Cause of death was strangulation, but the wounds came first.”

Reid frowns, looking over at the crime scene photos pinned to the board. “That suggests control. He didn’t just want to kill her, he wanted to inflict pain, assert dominance.”

Rossi nods in agreement, his tone grim. “He’s trying to break them down before killing them. Likely projecting some internal conflict, something personal.”

Y/N stands a little off to the side, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. She hasn’t said much since they got back, but Derek knows that look. She’s running the details over and over in her mind, trying to process everything.

Derek glances at her again before continuing. “He’s gotta be in his late 40s or 50s. Strong enough to overpower, but methodical enough to take his time with them.”

Emily pushes off the wall and approaches the table. “We’ve seen it before. Someone with deep insecurities who compensates by dominating their victims. There’s probably a sexual element involved, even if it’s not immediately obvious.”

Hotch is quiet for a moment, taking in all the information. Then he asks, “Was there anything else? Anything personal about her?”

There’s a pause. Derek hesitates, his eyes flicking over to Y/N again. He’s been waiting for her to say something, but she’s been holding back. She looks tense, almost like she’s somewhere else entirely.

Y/N clears her throat, feeling the weight of Hotch’s attention on her. “The victim... her name was Claire.”

Hotch raises an eyebrow. “And?”

Y/N shifts slightly, her voice a little quieter. “I knew her. We went to the same high school.”

That draws everyone’s attention. Reid, JJ, and Emily all look at her with surprise. Rossi’s eyes narrow in thought. Hotch’s expression shifts from curious to stern in an instant.

“You knew her?” His tone is sharp, almost accusatory.

Y/N nods, though it’s clear she’s uncomfortable. “Yeah, but... we weren’t close. I hadn’t seen her since high school. I didn’t even realize it was her until we were at the scene.”

Hotch’s jaw tightens, clearly frustrated. “And you didn’t think that was something we should’ve known?”

Before Y/N can respond, Derek steps in, his voice firm and protective. “She didn’t know until we got there, Hotch. This isn’t something she was hiding. It just hit her at the scene.”

Hotch’s gaze shifts to Derek, his expression still hard, but he doesn’t argue. There’s a beat of silence, the tension palpable in the room. Y/N looks down at the floor, her jaw clenched, clearly battling with the emotions bubbling beneath the surface.

Reid, ever the analyst, chimes in. “If Y/N knew the victim, that could mean the unsub has a connection to her past as well. It’s possible he’s targeting women from the same community.”

JJ nods thoughtfully. “If the victims are all from the same area, it might explain how he’s able to blend in so easily. He knows them, at least in passing.”

Y/N swallows hard, feeling the pressure of everyone’s eyes on her. She’s never liked being the focus of attention, especially not when it comes to something this personal. She hates how it feels like she’s under a microscope right now.

Derek steps a little closer to her, his hand brushing her arm lightly, a silent reassurance. His voice softens, just for her. “You okay, babygirl?”

She forces a tight smile, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. “I’m fine.”

Rossi taps the edge of the map in front of him. “If this unsub is blending in with his victims, he’s not the type to stand out. He’s attending social gatherings, getting close to them before striking. He’s comfortable in these environments.”

“That’s how he’s avoiding detection,” Emily adds. “He’s slipping under the radar, appearing harmless.”

Sheriff Mills, who’s been standing quietly in the back of the room, finally speaks up. “You think he’s been attending community events?”

Rossi nods. “It’s likely. He’s integrating himself into their lives without raising suspicion.”

The sheriff frowns, thinking for a moment. “Well, Diane Cole—one of the most prominent women in town—she hosts a weekly Sunday luncheon. Half the community shows up after church.”

Y/N’s entire body goes rigid at the mention of the name. Her breath catches in her throat, her heart pounding suddenly in her chest. The rest of the team doesn’t miss the way her expression changes, the way she seems to freeze in place.

Hotch notices it immediately, his sharp eyes narrowing. “Y/N? Why does that name mean something to you?”

Y/N tries to keep her composure, but it’s slipping. She feels exposed, vulnerable, like the walls she’s spent years building are crumbling around her. Her voice comes out strained, barely above a whisper. “Because Diane Cole is my mother.”

The room falls silent. No one says anything for a moment as they process what she just said. The different last names had kept them from connecting the dots until now, but the revelation is staggering.

Rossi’s eyes soften with understanding, but Hotch’s expression grows darker. He takes a slow breath, his frustration evident. “You didn’t think to tell us that your mother hosts one of the biggest events in town? One that our unsub no doubt plucks his victims from?”

Y/N shakes her head, her voice cracking slightly. “She and I... we haven’t spoken in years. I left home when I was sixteen, Hotch. It’s not like I’m going out of my way to connect with my mother. She’s not—” She stops herself, not wanting to open that door. “She’s not apart of my life. We’re not close.”

Hotch is clearly irritated, but before he can say anything else, Derek puts his hand on Y/N’s back, his voice low and calm, but with a protective edge. “Look, Hotch, this isn’t easy for her. She’s not keeping things from us on purpose. Let’s just focus on what we know and move forward.”

Hotch stares at Derek for a long moment, clearly weighing his words. Finally, he nods, letting the issue drop for now. “Alright. The luncheon is our best lead. Y/N, Derek, Emily—you three will come with me and we’ll see if anyone stands out. We need to be cautious. We don’t know what this guy looks like yet, but he’s dangerous.”

Y/N swallows hard, nodding along with the rest of the team. She feels Derek’s steady presence beside her, his hand on her arm again, grounding her. She meets his eyes for a brief moment, grateful for his unwavering support.

“We got this,” Derek murmurs, just for her. His voice is soft but full of confidence.

Y/N takes a deep breath, steadying herself. “Yeah. We do.”

As the team breaks off to prepare for the next steps, Y/N lingers for a moment, the weight of what’s to come settling heavily on her shoulders. She’s about to walk back into a part of her life she thought she’d left behind for good, and the thought terrifies her. But with Derek by her side, she knows she can face it. She has to.

₊‧ʚ ﹆・︵︵ ₊˚๑ ᕱ🌿ᕱ ꒱✦ ₊ ︵︵・₊﹆ɞ‧₊

The drive to Y/N’s childhood home is filled with a heavy silence. Derek occasionally glances over at her, but she stares straight ahead, her face unreadable. He knows she’s shutting down, retreating into herself as the memories she’s been trying to bury claw their way to the surface. The tension in her body has been there ever since they received word that the unsub might be attending her mother’s Sunday luncheon, and it hasn’t left her since.

As the car pulls up to the house, Y/N’s stomach knots. The familiar two-story building looms in front of them, looking almost exactly the same as it did the day she left nine years ago. The white picket fence, the flower beds her mother used to tend to religiously—everything looks frozen in time, untouched by the years she’s been gone.

Derek cuts the engine and turns to her. “You sure about this, princess?”

Y/N swallows hard, forcing a small nod. “Yeah.”

She isn’t sure. Not even close. But she’s here for the case, and that’s what matters. She can’t afford to let her emotions get in the way of the investigation, no matter how much being here is already tearing her apart.

They step out of the car, and Derek moves beside her, a steady presence as they walk up the path. Hotch and Prentiss are already ahead, scanning the area as they approach the front door. Y/N’s eyes flick around, taking in the familiar sights—the swing set that used to creak with the wind, the porch steps she used to sit on every evening, staring at the stars. All of it feels distant, like a life that belongs to someone else.

As soon as they step onto the porch, the front door swings open. Diane Cole, Y/N’s mother, stands in the doorway, her face lighting up in a wide smile. “Y/N!” she exclaims, her voice filled with warmth and hospitality as if no time has passed at all. “Oh, my goodness, it’s been so long!”

Y/N’s body tenses as her mother wraps her in a tight embrace. The scent of her perfume—familiar, suffocating—fills Y/N’s nostrils. She stands stiffly, arms at her sides, not reciprocating the hug. She can feel Derek’s eyes on her, the weight of his concern palpable, but she doesn’t move.

Diane pulls back, her hands still on Y/N’s shoulders, beaming at her. “Look at you! You’ve grown into such a beautiful young woman.”

Y/N forces a smile, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. “Hi, Mom.”

Diane doesn’t seem to notice her daughter’s coldness or, if she does, she ignores it. “Come in, come in!” she says, ushering them inside with a wave of her hand. “Everyone’s already here. We were just about to start lunch.”

Y/N steps inside the house, the familiar creak of the floorboards under her feet making her stomach turn. The smell of roast chicken wafts through the air, mingling with the sound of chatter coming from the dining room. It’s all so painfully familiar, like stepping back into the life she left behind.

Hotch and Prentiss follow them in, their eyes scanning the room, already analyzing the guests milling about. Derek stays close to Y/N’s side, his presence grounding her, but even that isn’t enough to quell the anxiety bubbling up inside her.

As they move into the living room, Diane can’t seem to stop talking. “It’s so wonderful to have everyone here. We do this every Sunday, you know. Just a little gathering after church. Keeps the community close.”

Y/N nods absently, her eyes flicking around the room. She’s searching for something—someone—though she’s not entirely sure who she’s looking for. The unsub is here. That much they know. But standing in this house, surrounded by people she hasn’t seen in years, feels like walking through a minefield.

Diane turns to Derek, her smile still plastered on her face. “And who’s this?”

Diane’s smile widens. “Oh, it’s so nice to meet you, Derek. Please, make yourself at home. We’ve got plenty of food, and if you need anything, just let me know.”

“Thank you, ma’am,” Derek replies politely, though his attention is already back on Y/N. He can see how tense she is, the way her eyes are darting around the room, scanning faces, assessing the crowd. She’s in work mode, but there’s something deeper, something more personal eating away at her.

As they move further into the house, Diane continues to chatter, offering drinks, asking about their work, pretending as though she hasn’t been estranged from her daughter for nearly a decade. Y/N barely listens, her mind racing as she takes in every detail, every face.

As they began to split up, Y/N felt a wave of relief wash over her. She’d always preferred to keep her distance from the noise and chaos of family gatherings, and today was no different. “I’ll check the backyard,” she suggested, hoping to create some space between herself and the tension inside.

“Be careful,” Derek said quietly, watching her with concern as she slipped outside.

Once she stepped into the backyard, the sun was almost too bright, illuminating the vibrant flowers in the garden but doing nothing to warm the coldness settling in her bones. She leaned against the wooden railing of the porch, breathing deeply, attempting to ground herself.

For a moment, it was quiet. The chirping of birds and the rustle of leaves filled the air, allowing Y/N to momentarily escape the chaos inside. But just as she started to relax, the back door creaked open. She turned to see Adrian, her stepfather, stepping onto the porch. The brightness of the day dulled as he approached, his confident demeanor wrapping around her like a shroud.

“Y/N,” Adrian said, his voice dripping with feigned warmth. “It’s been a long time.”

Y/N stiffened, her pulse quickening. “What are you doing here?” she asked, trying to keep her tone steady despite the rising tide of panic.

“I came to check in on you,” he takes a silly step closer to her. “You’ve grown up so much,” he said, his eyes scanning her with a mixture of familiarity and something more invasive. “You know, your mother is worried about you. You should visit more often.”

Y/N felt a wave of discomfort wash over her. “I’m fine. I don’t need checking on,” she replied firmly, trying to keep her tone from betraying her nerves. “And I have a busy job. I don’t have time for trivial visits.”

“Really? You’re fine? Because you look like you’re about to bolt. I thought we were past this.” Adrian’s voice turned sharper, an edge of annoyance creeping in as he crossed his arms over his chest.

At that moment, Derek stepped out onto the porch, instantly sensing the tension in the air. He glanced between Y/N and Adrian, picking up on the shift in Y/N's posture—the way her shoulders were tense and how she seemed to shrink back.

“Y/N, are you okay?” Derek asked, concern lacing his voice.

Adrian turned his gaze to Derek, sizing him up as if trying to gauge his intentions. “And who might you be?” he asked, feigning curiosity but with a hint of challenge.

“I’m SSA Derek Morgan with the BAU,” Derek replied, his tone neutral but his stance protective. “We’re here to investigate.”

“Investigate?” Adrian scoffed, his eyes narrowing. “What do you need to investigate in a place like this? It’s just a house.”

“Everything in here could be important,” Derek replied evenly, maintaining eye contact. He felt the tension simmering in the air, aware that any hint of aggression could escalate quickly.

Adrian took a step closer to Y/N, invading her space. “Well, Y/N and I have a lot to discuss, don’t we? Family matters are important. So I think it would be best for you to continue your investigation inside.” There was an underlying threat in his tone, one that made Derek’s instincts flare.

Derek shifted forward, placing himself between Adrian and Y/N, his presence a solid wall. “She doesn’t seem to want to talk,” he said firmly, glancing back at Y/N, searching for reassurance in her eyes. “I think you should give her some space.”

Adrian’s demeanor shifted slightly, his confidence cracking as he tried to reassert himself. “Space? I’m her stepfather. I have every right to speak to her.”

“That doesn’t mean you have the right to make her uncomfortable,” Derek replied, his voice steady but edged with authority. He wasn’t here to play games—he needed to protect Y/N, especially if something felt off.

Adrian’s smile faded as he took another step forward, his eyes darkening. “You’re just some guy, aren’t you? An FBI agent trying to play hero. What do you know about family?”

Derek squared his shoulders, refusing to back down. “I know that family should support one another, not intimidate. And from what I can see, you’re not doing that.”

Y/N felt the tension spike, her heart racing as she sensed Adrian’s irritation boiling beneath the surface. Derek was standing his ground, but she could see the way Adrian’s demeanor shifted—his posture becoming more aggressive.

Adrian’s gaze flicked between Derek and Y/N, and she felt the weight of his scrutiny. “You don’t know her like I do. I’m trying to help her,” he said, his voice lowering as he leaned closer to Derek, trying to assert dominance.

“Help her?” Derek echoed incredulously, his tone clipped. “By pressuring her? You’re not helping anyone but yourself.”

“Watch yourself,” Adrian warned, his voice turning low and menacing. “You don’t know what you’re dealing with here.”

Derek’s jaw tightened, and he took a step closer to Adrian, matching his intensity. “And you don’t know who you’re threatening. Back off.”

Just then, Y/N felt the walls closing in around her. Adrian’s words were wrapping around her like a vice, squeezing her heart and pushing her instincts into overdrive. She could feel herself being pulled in two different directions—Derek’s protective stance grounding her but also reminding her of the past she was trying to escape.

“Y/N,” Adrian said, his tone shifting again as he turned back to her, that familiar manipulation creeping into his voice. “You don’t have to listen to him. I’m just looking out for you.”

She shook her head, the memories crashing over her like a wave. “I don’t need you to look out for me,” she said, her voice firm but low, trying to keep it steady as her hands trembled at her sides. “I’m done with that.”

Derek shot her a glance, noticing the shift in her demeanor. “Y/N, you okay?” he asked, concern thick in his voice.

“I’m fine,” she insisted, but the strain in her tone betrayed her.

Adrian smirked, the kind of smile that sent a chill down Y/N's spine. “Look how protective you are of her,” he said to Derek, his voice dripping with mockery. “Isn’t that sweet?”

“Enough,” Derek said sharply, stepping further in front of Y/N, his body a shield. “You’re crossing a line.”

Adrian’s demeanor darkened, his posture becoming more aggressive as he looked back at Derek, trying to assert his dominance. “You think you can just waltz in here and play protector?”

“Believe me man, I’m not playing,” Derek replied, his voice low and steady.

That was when Y/N felt the weight of everything pressing down on her. She couldn’t stand it. Adrian’s presence, the memories flooding back, and the way Derek was standing up for her—it was all too much. Without another word, she turned and walked briskly toward the front door, needing to escape the suffocating atmosphere.

“Y/N!” Derek called after her, but she was already moving, her heart pounding in her ears.

She rushed through the living room, her mind racing. She felt a wave of anxiety surge as she stepped outside, the sunlight hitting her face, but it felt distant, almost cold.

“Y/N! What happened?” Prentiss shouted, following her outside. The concern in her voice echoed in Y/N’s mind.

“I just... need a minute,” Y/N replied quietly, trying to control the tremble in her voice.

Hotch stepped outside, his brow furrowed as he assessed the situation. “What’s going on?” he asked, his tone serious.

“Nothing,” Y/N breathes heavily, her chest heaving from anxiety and anger. “Nothing, I-I I’m fine.” She didn’t want to relive it; she didn’t want to talk about Adrian or the past. “I don’t want to discuss this.” She shakes her head rapidly.

“Why are you upset?” Prentiss pressed gently, her eyes filled with concern.

“I said I don’t want to talk about it!” Y/N finally snaps, her voice slightly rising as she felt tears prick at the corners of her eyes. She turned away from them, needing to find a way to breathe, to think without the weight of their gazes on her.

“Y/N, please,” Derek said softly, stepping closer but remaining respectful of her space. “Talk to us. We’re here to help.”

She shook her head, feeling the panic rising within her. “I can’t do this right now,” she said, her voice breaking. “I just– I cant. I’ll jeopardize the case if I go back in there. And I can’t do that to those women. I can’t mess this up.”

With that, she turned and strode toward the SUV parked at the curb, the need to retreat overwhelming her. She climbed into the back seat, shutting the door firmly behind her, pressing her forehead against the cool glass, desperately trying to find calm in the chaos that had erupted.

“Y/N!” Derek called again, but she didn’t respond, her heart racing as she stared out the window, willing the memories to stay buried and the present to fade away.

The team gathered outside, their expressions a mix of confusion and concern as they exchanged worried glances. “What do we do?” Prentiss asked, glancing from Hotch to Derek.

“We give her space,” Hotch replied, his voice steady. “She’ll talk when she’s ready.”

Derek clenched his fists, frustration coursing through him. He wanted to reach out, to comfort her, but he knew that pushing would only make things worse. “I hate this,” he muttered, his gaze fixed on the closed door of the SUV.

As the minutes ticked by, Y/N closed her eyes, willing herself to breathe, to find calm in the chaos swirling around her. She couldn’t let Adrian’s presence ruin everything she had worked for, everything she had fought to build. But deep down, she knew the shadows of her past wouldn’t let her go so easily.

₊‧ʚ ﹆・︵︵ ₊˚๑ ᕱ🌿ᕱ ꒱✦ ₊ ︵︵・₊﹆ɞ‧₊

Walking back into the police station, Y/N managed to get the entire teams attention without even speaking. The unfortunate part about working with such observant people is that even if she breathes a little too heavy, they can tell exactly what she’s thinking. And let’s just say her breathing is way different than what they would consider her “normal.”

Spencer, JJ, and Rossi all watch with concerned eyes as Y/N practically storms into the designated room they have for the case, slamming the door behind her. The glass windows shake from the force and she places her hands on the table before zeroing in on the case board in front of her.

Hotch, Emily, and Derek walk in, their own cautious gaze setting everyone on edge. Rossi looks at the trio, pointing back at the fuming agent in the other room. “What happened there?”

Hotch states after his younger agent, tilting his head as he tries to gauge whether she’s more upset or angry from beyond the window. “Something set her off at the house,” he answers.

“Not something, someone,” Emily corrects with a worried sighs. “As soon as her stepfather showed up, it was like her entire world stopped. And not in a good way.”

“Stepfather?” JJ furrows her eyebrows.

“Adrian Cole,” Reid answers for them, causing everyone to look at him confused.

“And how did you know that?” Hotch questions flatly.

“When she mentioned Diane was her mother, I did some digging and asked some of the other officers about her,” Reid admits with a harsh swallow as he notices Morgan glaring in his direction. No doubt for probing into Y/N’s life. “Diane got married to Adrian when Y/N was eight years old. Three years after her father died. He’s currently fifty-two, eight years older than Diane. I guess everyone was pretty surprised to find out they were seeing each other,” Reid reveals. “Sheriff Mills told me that it was the talk of the town when it originally happened. Adrian was kind of a recluse, not approached by many, kind of a ‘creep’ as described by the deputies,” he gestures over in the other direction. “So it was surprising to find out that Diane ended up with him, especially since she married her high school sweetheart, Y/N’s father, Daniel L/N.”

“So she kept her father’s last name,” Rossi points out, glancing back over to Y/N. “Shows how much she truly wanted to distance herself from her mother. Not taking her new husband’s last name.”

“Or maybe she was just closer with her dad,” JJ suggests.

“Or maybe her stepfather never got over his ‘creep’ reputation,” Emily scoffs out. “Gotta admit, if he was my stepdad, I wouldn’t want his last name either. I mean, the way he walked up to Y/N… it was almost predatory.”

Derek stands off to the side, his arms crossed tightly over his chest. He listens to the conversation but doesn’t say anything yet. He’s been watching Y/N closely ever since they walked into her mother’s house, noticing every shift in her demeanor, every tell-tale sign that she was far from okay. Now, hearing the others discuss her like she’s some puzzle to solve only makes his jaw tighten.

“We can’t just sit here and talk about her like she’s not in the other room,” Derek’s voice breaks them out of their conversation. “We shouldn’t be discussing and probing into her life without talking to her first.”

“She doesn’t exactly look like she wants to talk, Derek,” Emily points out. “She kind of bit our heads off when we originally tried to get something out of her. We’re just trying to get an idea so we can help.”

“Well maybe instead of talking about her we should be talking to her,” Derek says snippily. “Then we might actually be able to get her to open up.”

Hotch raises an eyebrow, “You think she’ll open up?”

“To me? Oh, I know she will,” Derek nods his head confidently. “She trusts me. If anyone is going to get through to her, it’s me.” He says, his voice steady, though there’s an edge of protectiveness in his tone.

Without waiting for anyone else to respond, Derek heads toward the room where Y/N disappeared. The others exchange quick glances, knowing Morgan has a point. He’s closer to Y/N than anyone else on the team, and if she’s going to talk to anyone, it’s him.

Inside the room, Y/N stands in front of the caseboard, her eyes scanning over the photos and files without really seeing them. Her mind is racing, and it’s written all over her face. Derek walks in quietly, closing the door behind him. He watches her for a moment, his eyes softening as he sees the tension in her shoulders, the way she’s gripping the edges of the table like it’s the only thing keeping her grounded.

"Princess," he says softly, using the nickname he knows she responds to when she’s upset. "You okay?"

Y/N doesn’t turn around, her voice coming out strained. "I’m fine, Derek."

He takes a step closer, his tone gentle but firm. "No, you’re not. Talk to me."

She lets out a shaky breath, still not looking at him. "It’s... it’s nothing. I just—there’s too much going on. I need to focus."

Derek’s not buying it. He steps closer until he’s standing next to her, he gently places his pointer finger under her chin, lifting her head up to him. "Y/N, look at me."

Reluctantly, she allows him to lovingly adjust her head, her eyes meeting his. The moment their gazes lock, Derek can see it—the fear, the anger, the confusion. She’s holding it all in, trying to keep herself together, but it’s a losing battle.

"You don’t have to do this alone babygirl,” Derek says softly, his voice full of concern. "Whatever’s going on, you know I’ve got your back."

For a second, she looks like she’s going to say something, but then she shakes her head, turning away from him again. "It’s just... I don’t know, Derek. I don’t know what to do, what to say,” she huffs frustratedly. “Things are a lot more complicated than everyone thinks they are.”

He watches her, giving her the space she needs but staying close, his presence solid and unwavering. "You don’t have to have all the answers right now. Just talk to me."

Y/N’s breath hitches, and she suddenly steps back from the caseboard, running a hand through her hair as she starts to pace. "It’s not just about Adrian, okay? There’s... there’s something else."

Derek watches her carefully, his eyes tracking her movements as she starts to unravel. "What is it?"

Y/N’s mind is moving a million miles a minute, pieces clicking together as she starts connecting the dots. She stops pacing and stares at the board again, her heart pounding. "I found the connection," she murmurs, her voice barely above a whisper.

Derek’s brow furrows. "What?"

Y/N swallows hard, her hands trembling slightly as she starts flipping through the files. "It’s me,” she admits shakily. “I’m the connection,” she rushes out, throwing files left and right. “The girls. I know all of them. I guess I haven’t been processing faces until now, trying to block out the memories I have here, but I can’t do it anymore. These women…” her hands tremble as she moves. “They’re dead because they knew me.”

“Whoa, whoa, sweetheart, slow down,” Morgan places his hands on her shoulders gently to get her to stop rambling. “What do you mean you’re the connection? You haven’t been here in over nine years.”

Y/N squeezed her eyes shut, letting the warmth of Derek’s hands try to slow her mind. It works momentarily, but does nothing to slow her racing heart at the realization that she could be the key to this entire case. And she did exactly what she promised she wouldn’t. She jeopardized it. Ignored the fact she faintly recognized each victim. Ignored the nagging feeling in her brain that something was off. Thats why the team has been struggling to track the unsub, because they’ve been missing one key element. The connection between the victims. Why he picks them.

“They were all part of the same support group I was in when I was a teenager.” She swallows thickly, rubbing her now sweaty, nervous hands on her slacks. “All of them. That’s why I recognized Claire... and the others.”

Derek steps closer, his voice low but urgent. “A support group? For what?”

Y/N’s chest tightens as the memories flood back, memories she’s tried so hard to bury. "For survivors of abuse. Sexual abuse."

There’s a beat of silence as Derek processes what she’s just said. His jaw tightens, his protective instincts kicking in even harder. "Y/N..."

She doesn’t give him a chance to say anything else. Her eyes dart across the files, her mind racing as she speaks faster. "This isn’t just random. He’s targeting them, Derek. The girls from the group. I don’t know why, but he’s going after them. And now... now it’s happening again. They went through something so evil and vile as kids and now… now they’re being killed for it.”

Derek takes a step forward, his hand reaching out to gently grab her arm, grounding her. "Hey, slow down. We’ll figure this out, okay? You’re not alone in this."

“Derek, what if that means I’m next?” She asks him. “We have five victims, and there was only six people in the group. I’m the only one left.” She moves back to the case board, trying to see if any new information will reveal itself after this epiphany. “And it-it’s not like a lot of people knew about it…” she mumbles. “It was a private group, very secluded. It was us and whoever we chose to tell about our experience.”

“Babygirl…” The way Derek calls out to her, she can already tell exactly what question he’s going to ask next. Which is the main reason why she didn’t tell him sooner. She’s been trying to avoid the answer to this question for her entire life.

“Who did this to you?”

Y/N freezes, her eyes traveling down to her feet. She fights off the tears welling behind her eyes, needing to stay strong. This can’t have a hold over her anymore. She can’t keep living like this. In terror of returning to the place she used to call home.

“Adrian,” she says, her voice cracking. She doesn’t even have to turn to Derek to know his fists are clenched. She can feel the anger radiating off of him at the revelation. It all makes sense to him now. Why Y/N’s been acting off since getting to Baraboo, why she was uncomfortable in her childhood home, why she looked like she wanted to run and hide the second Adrian approached her. He violated her in a way no person should ever be violated. In a way that he understands all too well.

He manages to get ahold of his fury, walking closer to her. He sits down in the chair directly next to her body. He reaches out, grabbing her hand and rubbing his thumb over her soft skin. “How long?” He asks, a pained tone in his voice.

She keeps her eyes trained on her shoes, “Ten to fourteen,” she says barely above a whisper. “I went to the support group until I left for college at sixteen.” Y/N sits down next to him, almost hiding within herself. “Most of the other girls were older than me,” her eyes barely graze over the crime scene photos.

“Babygirl, this went on for four years? Did you tell anyone?” Derek wonders, not judging because he didn’t say anything either.

“I tried–” her voice cracks again as she chokes back her tears. She clears her throat to regain her composure, “I told my mom,” she admits quietly. “But she didn’t believe me. She told him I told her and that’s when things went downhill. She called me a liar, told me no one would believe me. Adrian played the victim throughout the whole thing, but the same night he came into my room and–” she sucks in a deep breath. “He told me it was my fault. That he was being so nice to me for doing what he was doing. Told me I wouldn’t make it without him or his help. And I was just a kid,” she sniffles. “I was scared out of my mind. I couldn’t defend myself because I believed him. And my own mother didn’t even think I was telling the truth. How could I tell the police?”

Derek doesn’t say anything but moves forward to pull her in for a hug. He holds her tightly and she slowly melts into his chest. They both can feel the eyes of the team on them, but choose to ignore it. “That’s why I went to the support group.” She continues, slightly muffled by Derek’s chest. “Because they were feeling the same way I was. Even if the people who did it to them were caught and put away, they still understood what it felt like.”

“Sweetheart, I don’t want you to have to relive this, but I gotta ask… Who else knew about these meetings?” He lifts her head up, brushing a strand of hair out of her face. “Anyone that you can think of. If you truly believe you are the key to this case, you’re the only one who would know.”

“I didn’t tell anyone,” Y/N says honestly. “Whenever I would go I would say it was for tutoring or book club. I didn’t want them to know I was looking for help. But the other girls could’ve told someone. I don’t think they did though. When we went it was for us. To help us cope. We didn’t feel the need to tell anyone else because we had each other.” Her forehead creases as she tries to think of someone who could’ve been aware. “I guess the only other person who would’ve known is the girl who facilitated it. She graduated five years before I even got there. Got a degree in psychology. I think she actually became a therapist here.”

“Would she have told anyone?”

“No,” Y/N shakes her head. “She was big on confidentiality. That’s why we all trusted her.” She thinks back to try and remember any detail she could. “Her name is Candy Brown. Dark hair, a couple inches shorter than me, real organized, had set schedules and certain ticks. Like borderline OCD. She would have to click her pen three times when moving onto a new person while taking notes.”

“She kept records?” Derek’s face suddenly morphs into one of extreme concern. “Y/N, if she wrote down everything you guys ever told her, someone could’ve easily found the notes and that’s how our unsub got his information. That’s how he could’ve figured out who was in the group.”

“We need to tell the team,” Y/N looks out the window towards the group of people who haven’t moved since Derek came to talk to her.

“Baby–”

“No,” she shakes her head, using her right hand to cup the side of his face. She looks him in the eyes genuinely for the first time since arriving in Wisconsin. “It’s okay,” Y/N reassures him. “This is information that pertains to the case and can help catch our unsub. They need to know.”

₊‧ʚ ﹆・︵︵ ₊˚๑ ᕱ🌿ᕱ ꒱✦ ₊ ︵︵・₊﹆ɞ‧₊

After telling the team all about her past, Y/N felt embarrassed but overall relieved. She could tell they were heartbroken for her, but none of them went too overboard with it, knowing it would make things worse if they coddled her over it. She was grateful to have Derek with her. She wouldn’t have been able to get through it without having a panic attack if he wasn’t holding her hand all the way through it.

Hotch sent her and Derek to find Candy and ask if she had lost her notes in recent months while him and the rest of the team delivered the more updated profile. Now that they had all the information, they could get a better idea of who this guy is.

Y/N was almost in awe of how large Candy’s building was. Sheriff Mills had given her and Derek the directions to get there, and it was almost refreshing seeing someone from that time in Y/N’s life flourishing. Especially since the other girls didn’t even get the chance to.

Walking into the office, Derek and Y/N flash their badges at the receptionist, informing her of who they are and why they’re here. She quickly guides them to Candy who is fervently writing down information.

“She just got done with a patient,” the receptionist whispers. “She’ll be done any second now.”

Suddenly the dark haired woman’s head shoots up, but not before clicking her pen three times. The same thing she needed to do when trying to move on from person to person.

“Candy Brown,” Derek begins, walking up to the woman to respectfully shake her hand. Y/N follows after him, her hands folded neatly in front of her. “I’m SSA Derek Morgan, and this is–”

“Y/N L/N,” Candy finishes, a mixture of shock and confusion in her voice. A small smile crosses her face as she takes in the now adult woman in front of her. “Wow,” she breathes out. “I haven’t seen you in–”

“Nine years?” Y/N finishes.

Candy nods, “Yeah.” She furrows her eyebrows, looking in between her and Derek, “What’s going on? I know your guys’ team is here investigating the murders, but why are you here?” She asks curiously.

“You remember the support group you created when I was here?” Y/N immediately jumps into the conversation, not bothering to beat around the bush.

“Yes?”

Y/N takes another step forward, analyzing the room around her, “I don’t know if you realized, but all of the victims were participants in the group.”

“Of course I realized,” Candy says. “That’s why I was so surprised to hear that you not only came back but are also working on a case where you could be a potential target.”

“And you weren’t worried about being a target?” Derek asks, brow quirked.

“No,” Candy answers with a small shrug. “After he killed Laura-”

“The second victim,” Y/N adds for clarification.

“Yeah,” Candy nods. “After I found out she was killed, I knew it was a matter of time before the others went.”

“And how exactly did you come to that conclusion?” Derek folds his arms, not understanding how she has so much intel on the case.

She swallows thickly, looking around and avoiding eye contact with the two agents. Y/N tilts her head, narrowing her eyes which makes the shorter woman squirm. “Candy…?” Y/N says expectantly.

“I thought they would’ve told you by now,” Candy starts. “I had a different office before this one. My old one burned down after it was burglarized.” Her explanation makes Y/N’s stomach twist in multiple different directions. Her and Derek make eye contact, knowing exactly where this is going.

“Let me guess, this all happened around two months ago?” Derek sighs when he watches Candy nod her head.

“Yeah. So someone did tell you?”

“No,” Y/N corrects. “That’s just when our unsub started killing.” She looks at Candy with a serious expression, “Listen, I need you to think long and hard about who could’ve had access to your office. Who also might’ve taken too much of an interest in the work you do with sexual abuse survivors.”

Derek elaborates more on the profile, “He should be a white male, late 40s to early 50s. He acts confident as a way to overcompensate for his past failures. He can be a bit of a creep sometimes but tries to cover it up with a facade of charm. He’s become an influential member of the community, but he wasn’t always that way. He had to claw his way up.”

Candy’s brows are furrowed in thought as she thinks deeply about what they’ve said. Her mind goes over the different people that were employed with her, those who spoke to her about her work, who showed interest. That’s when her eyes light up. She looks at Y/N, her lip quivering.

“What?” Y/N asks, immediately noticing the shift. “Candy, what is it?”

“The only other person who could’ve had access to my office in the other building was the cleaner I hired,” she answers. “I hired a third party to come later at night so my day janitors and custodians could go home earlier during the day.”

“Do you remember who this third party is?” Derek asks urgently, getting ready to phone Hotch.

Candy’s face falls, “It was Adrian,” she reveals quietly. Y/N feels like she’s been shot in the chest when the words leave her old friend’s lips. “He’s had this free lance cleaning business for some time now. It’s been pretty successful with all the small businesses around here. He was always asking questions after my meetings, but I would never tell him much. You know I wouldn’t betray Doctor-patient confidentiality like that.” Y/N nods along with the statement. “But after you left, the girls continued to see me. We met in group settings until I built my practice and then they started coming individually. Just for someone to talk to.”

“Did you still keep handwritten notes?” Y/N questions.

“Yeah,” Candy nods. “It’s the most efficient way for me to keep my thoughts organized. But there was one evening I remember that Claire came in and she was telling me how she felt isolated from the community. It was something all the girls had been hinting at, but I didn’t take it seriously until I realized all of them had said it. I was frustrated that I didn’t see them all asking me for help. So when Adrian came in that night, I just said that some of my clients felt alone.” She mentally facepalms, “I know I shouldn’t have even engaged in conversation, but he was just being so involved and nice about it. That’s when he told me to invite them to your mom’s luncheon.”

“And did they go?” Derek questions.

“Yes,” Candy nods. “I encouraged them to go together as emotional support. They all went to the same one.”

Y/N sighs, realizing they’ve already spoken to their unsub and let him get away. “And let me guess, it was the Sunday before your office was burglarized?”

Candy rubs a hand over her face, “And their files were the only ones unaccounted for.”

“Y/N, we need to call Hotch,” Derek tells her seriously. “We’re gonna need backup.”

She nods, a more than determined expression on her face. “Let’s go.”

₊‧ʚ ﹆・︵︵ ₊˚๑ ᕱ🌿ᕱ ꒱✦ ₊ ︵︵・₊﹆ɞ‧₊

Rolling up to her mother’s house twice within the span of a day was unexpected for Y/N, but she’s determined now more than ever to make sure this visit leaves an impact. The woman is the first one out of an SUV, darting towards the door with her gun ready in her hands. Derek follows closely behind, accompanied by Hotch and the rest of the team.

Diane’s car is in the driveway, so Y/N knows this isn’t going to go as smoothly as she desires. If she could just go in and take Adrian down, she would. But she knows her mother is going to try and fight it.

Hotch gives the signal, and Derek pushes the door open, stepping in first with Y/N close behind. The rest of the team fans out, guns at the ready, but Y/N’s focus is singular: Adrian.

Diane is in the living room, flipping through a magazine. She looks up, startled to see them. “Y/N?” she says, her voice warm with surprise. She stands, smiling tentatively, “What’s going on? What are you doing here?”

Y/N’s throat tightens as she looks at her mother. The warmth, the confusion in Diane’s eyes—it almost feels like any other visit, except this time, it’s not. “We need to talk to Adrian,” Y/N says, her voice steady but distant.

Diane frowns, glancing at the rest of the team behind her daughter. “What’s going on? Why do you need to talk to him?” Her smile fades slightly, but there’s still an air of disbelief as if this can’t possibly be serious.

Hotch steps in, his voice professional, calm. “Where’s Adrian, Mrs. Cole? We need to speak with him.”

Diane looks between Y/N and the team, her confusion deepening. “He’s in the bathroom. But what’s this about?”

Y/N feels the familiar dread creeping in, the same doubt her mother always carried. She avoids Diane’s gaze and nods toward the hallway, signaling to Derek and Rossi. “Go get him.”

As Derek and Rossi head toward the hallway, Diane’s tone shifts, becoming more defensive. “Wait, Y/N, what’s going on? You can’t just barge in here—”

Y/N feels a knot form in her chest, but before she can respond, Derek’s voice calls out, sharp. “Adrian! We know you’re in there. It’s over!”

There’s a clatter from the bathroom, followed by silence. Y/N’s eyes dart toward the hallway, tension crackling between them all. She can’t breathe, waiting for the door to open, for Adrian to step out.

Diane’s face hardens now, the warmth fading. “Wait, you think Adrian had something to do with these murders you’re here for?” she asks, her voice incredulous. “This is absurd. He hasn’t done anything!”

Derek reappears at the doorway, his eyes locked on Adrian as he exits the bathroom. Adrian’s face is calm, too calm, but there’s an edge to his voice as he looks from Derek to Y/N. “What’s this about?”

“We know what you’ve been doing,” Y/N says, her voice breaking the silence, though her throat feels like it’s closing in on itself. The weight of her past is crashing down all at once. “We know you found out about my old support group and have been preying on the women.”

Diane’s eyes widen in shock, her voice turning sharp. “Wait—what? This is what you’re accusing him of?” She turns to Y/N, disbelief clear in her expression. “You can’t be serious, Y/N. You’ve always had it out for Adrian—”

“Mrs. Cole, stop,” Derek interrupts, his voice firm as he steps between Y/N and her mother. His protective instincts kick in, but there’s a bite in his words now as he faces Diane directly. “You didn’t believe her then, and I get that you don’t wanna believe her now, but this isn’t a game. He’s connected to multiple murders.”

Diane’s face turns pale as the words sink in, but she shakes her head, her hands trembling slightly. “You’re wrong,” she says, her voice breaking. “Adrian wouldn’t—he didn’t do anything.”

Y/N feels the sting of her mother’s disbelief. After everything, Diane still won’t accept it. Derek glances at Y/N, his voice lowering but full of fire. “She’s your daughter. You should’ve protected her. Instead, you’re defending him.”

Adrian looks like he’s about to speak when Diane steps in front of him, as if shielding him. “Y/N, this is insane. You’re arresting him for murders? You’re destroying our family—again!”

Y/N snaps, emotion flooding into her voice, “Do you even hear yourself? Do you understand what’s happening right now?” She doesn’t want to raise her voice, but it’s like years of anger are bubbling to the surface. “He hurt me. He manipulated me, and now other women are dead because of him!”

Diane looks at Y/N with wide eyes, as if she can’t process what she’s hearing. “You’re lying,” she says quietly, her voice shaking. “You’re making this all up. You always blamed Adrian for everything—”

Y/N’s heart twists painfully in her chest. Even now, her mother doesn’t believe her. Derek’s jaw clenches as he steps forward, practically growling now. “She’s not lying. She’s been through enough, and it’s time you started listening to her instead of defending this monster.”

Adrian, sensing that things are slipping out of his control, sneers at Derek. “You don’t know anything about me.”

Derek’s eyes are sharp as he glares back, full of unspoken anger. “I know enough.”

Hotch steps in then, signaling Spencer, Rossi, and Prentiss. “We’re taking him in,” he says, his voice calm but decisive.

Diane stumbles backward as Morgan pulls Adrian’s arms behind his back to cuff him. “You can’t do this!” Diane cries out, her hands shaking as she reaches for Adrian.

“Ma’am I’m going to need you to step back,” Prentiss warns, her voice firm but not unkind.

Diane turns to Y/N, desperation in her eyes. “Please, Y/N. Don’t do this.”

Y/N’s throat tightens again, the pain almost unbearable as she looks at her mother. “I didn’t do this. He did.”

As they haul Adrian toward the door, Derek stays by Y/N’s side, his hand gently resting on her arm. He leans in, his voice softening just for her. “You alright?”

Y/N can barely nod. “I just… I need this to be over.”

Derek squeezes her arm gently, the tension between them unspoken but palpable. “We’ll make sure it is,” he says quietly. “He’s not gonna hurt you anymore.”

As Adrian is led out, Y/N watches him disappear through the door, the weight of everything she’s carried for so long finally starting to lift. Derek stays close, his protective presence like a shield around her.

“I should’ve seen this sooner,” Y/N whispers, her voice full of regret.

Derek looks at her, his eyes full of something deeper, something he hasn’t said yet. “This isn’t on you,” he says, his voice steady. “We’ve got him now.”

Y/N takes a deep breath, her heart pounding, but there’s a strange sense of relief starting to creep in. Maybe, finally, this part of her life is coming to an end.

₊‧ʚ ﹆・︵︵ ₊˚๑ ᕱ🌿ᕱ ꒱✦ ₊ ︵︵・₊﹆ɞ‧₊

In the interrogation room, Adrian Cole lounges in his seat, his cocky smile never wavering as Hotch and Derek sit across from him. The fluorescent lights overhead cast a cold, sterile glow, but Adrian is undisturbed, clearly enjoying himself. His eyes flick between Hotch and Derek, and there’s something calculating in the way he looks at them, like he’s already planning his next move.

Hotch keeps his voice steady, professional. “Adrian, we know about your connection to the women in the support group. Candy Brown confirmed that you used to work for her, that you were asking questions about the survivors. You were studying them, weren’t you? Figuring out how to get close.”

Adrian leans back in his chair, chuckling lightly. “Questions? You mean me being polite? Curious, maybe? Come on, Agent, that’s hardly a crime.”

Derek’s jaw tightens, but he remains composed. “You fit the profile. We know you’ve been stalking these women. We know Y/N was your real target all along.”

Adrian’s smile grows wider, his eyes shifting to Derek. “Oh, Agent Morgan. I see why you’re here now.” He leans forward, the playful tone in his voice turning darker. “This isn’t about the profile, is it? It’s about her. You’re here because of Y/N.”

Derek’s gaze hardens, but he doesn’t take the bait. “I’m here because of what you did.”

“What I did?” Adrian raises an eyebrow, mockingly confused. “You mean what you think I did. You’re just mad because you know I got to her first.”

The air in the room seems to thicken with tension as Adrian watches Derek’s reaction, clearly enjoying the game he’s playing. Hotch tries to redirect. “This isn’t about Y/N. It’s about the six women you killed.”

But Adrian’s eyes stay locked on Derek. “Six women… sure, that’s bad. But you know what’s worse, Derek?” He leans forward, dropping his voice to a whisper. “Knowing she’ll never be yours. No matter what you do, no matter how hard you try to protect her, you’ll always be too late. You can’t fix what’s already broken.”

Derek clenches his fists under the table, the muscles in his jaw working as he forces himself to stay calm. Adrian’s words are cutting deep, hitting exactly where he intended.

“You’re wrong,” Derek growls, barely keeping his composure. “She’s stronger than you think. And you’ll never touch her again.”

Adrian’s smirk doesn’t falter. “Strong? Sure. Strong enough to get away from me last time. But the thing is, Derek… people like her? They always come back. It’s just a matter of time.”

Derek leans in, his voice deadly quiet. “You’ll rot in prison before you ever get that chance.”

Adrian sits back, casually crossing his arms over his chest, his grin widening. “We’ll see.”

Hotch, sensing Derek’s rising anger, stands up. “We’re done here.”

Derek hesitates for a split second, his eyes still locked on Adrian, but then he rises as well. Adrian chuckles lowly and his eyes follow Derek as he moves toward the door. “Leaving already, Derek?” Adrian’s voice drips with mockery. “Y/N must have told you everything by now. How she couldn’t resist, how much she used to like it when I—”

Derek spins back around, his anger breaking through for just a second. “You need to shut your mouth.”

Adrian’s smile only widens as he leans forward, reveling in Derek’s reaction. “Touched a nerve, did I? Guess it’s not just Y/N’s mind I wormed my way into, huh?”

Before Derek can step closer, Hotch holds out an arm, signaling him to back down. He knows Adrian is trying to bait Derek into losing control. “We’re leaving,” Hotch repeats firmly.

As soon as the door to the interrogation room shuts, Derek finally lets the anger show on his face. “That guy is a real piece of work,” he mutters under his breath. He paces, trying to rein in his emotions. Rossi, JJ, Prentiss, and Spencer are waiting, their expressions tense.

Hotch nods, his expression grim. “He knows how to manipulate, how to get under people’s skin. That’s why he’s dangerous. But we need a confession.”

Derek shoots him a look, his voice hard. “You’re not seriously thinking about sending Y/N in there.”

“She’s the only one he’ll talk to,” Hotch replies, his tone even, though there’s clear discomfort in his eyes. “He’s too focused on her. He won’t crack for us, but with her, he might.”

“She doesn’t need to be anywhere near that psycho,” Prentiss adds, backing Derek up.

Rossi nods, his arms crossed. “He’ll try to manipulate her, Hotch. He’ll push all her buttons. You know how dangerous that could be.”

Hotch looks around at the team, his face unreadable, but resolute. “He’s not going to talk to anyone else. Y/N’s the reason this is all happening—he’s fixated on her. If we want a confession, we need her.”

Derek is still pacing, shaking his head in frustration. “Hotch, you know what he’ll do. He’ll tear her apart mentally.”

“Derek…” Y/N’s voice cuts through the tension as she steps forward, her face calm but determined. “I need to do this.”

Derek looks at her, his expression a mix of frustration and concern. “No, Y/N. You don’t have to do this. Let someone else handle it.”

Y/N meets his gaze, her voice steady. “It has to be me. He won’t talk to anyone else, and you know it. I’m the one who has to end this.”

Derek runs a hand over his face, still conflicted, but he knows she’s right. He can see the resolve in her eyes, the same determination that’s been driving her since this case started. After a long moment, he nods, though it clearly kills him to do so. “Fine. But I’m right outside the door. The second you need me, I’m coming in.”

Y/N gives him a small, appreciative smile. “I know.”

With a final glance at the rest of the team, Y/N walks into the interrogation room. Adrian’s eyes light up the moment he sees her, his grin returning.

“Well, look who it is,” he says, leaning back in his chair like he’s just been handed a gift. “I knew you’d come.” His eyes flicker with amusement as he takes in her demeanor. She’s calm. No sign of fear on her face, making his fists clench. “You always were a clever girl, Y/N. Smart enough to know what you wanted but never strong enough to follow through. That’s why you’re here, isn’t it? You think you’ve won.”

Y/N narrows her eyes. “I didn’t come here to win anything, Adrian. I came here to end this.”

He scoffs, leaning forward again, his tone dropping to a darker pitch. “End what? You think locking me up will change anything? You’ll still be thinking about me. You’ll always be connected to me. You and I, Y/N, we’re the same.”

Y/N’s lips curl into a tight smile. “That’s where you’re wrong. I’m not like you, Adrian. I’m stronger because I don’t need to control anyone to feel powerful. You? You’re nothing. You never were. You thought you had control over me, but really, you were just a pathetic coward trying to feel important.”

Adrian’s jaw tightens, but Y/N can see the flicker of anger behind his eyes. She presses on, her voice dropping to a cold, cutting tone.

“You couldn’t control me, Adrian. That’s why you went after those other women. You thought by killing them, you’d finally feel like you had power over something. But deep down, you knew the truth. You’re impotent. You can’t control anyone, least of all me.”

His hand twitches on the table, and his smirk falters. Y/N knows she’s hit a nerve.

“You think you’re so smart, don’t you?” Adrian hisses, his voice venomous. “You think you’re untouchable? I killed those women because they were weak! They were nothing compared to you! But I did it for you. Every one of them, Y/N! Every one was for you, to remind you of what I can do.”

His face twists with fury as he leans in, practically spitting the words now. “I did it because I knew it would bring you back to me. And guess what? It worked. You’re here. And when this is over, you’ll never forget me.”

Y/N doesn’t flinch, her eyes cold and unwavering as she meets his gaze. “You’re right about one thing, Adrian. I won’t forget you. But not because I’m scared or because you have any hold over me. I’ll remember you as the pathetic, cowardly man who couldn’t even face his own failures. You killed those women because you couldn’t handle the fact that I got away from you. That I beat you.”

Adrian’s face is red with rage now, his fists clenched as he glares at her. He’s lost his cool completely, no longer the charming manipulator he was trying to be. He’s exposed.

Y/N stands up slowly, looking down at him with calm, cold eyes. “You wanted me back in your life? Well, congratulations, Adrian. You’ve got a one-way ticket to prison, and the only time you’ll see me again is when you’re rotting behind bars.”

She leans in just a little, her voice dropping to a near whisper, her words like ice. “I won. You lost. And the worst part for you? You’ll spend the rest of your miserable life knowing I never belonged to you.”

Adrian’s face twists in a snarl, but he doesn’t say anything. Y/N doesn’t need him to. She’s already shattered his delusions.

As she turns to leave the room, she pauses in the doorway, glancing over her shoulder one last time. “Enjoy prison, Adrian. You’ll be surrounded by men just like you. Maybe they’ll remind you of what real powerlessness feels like.”

She walks out without looking back, leaving Adrian sitting there, fuming and defeated.

Outside, the team watches through the observation window. Derek’s eyes never leave Y/N as she steps into the hallway, her expression unreadable but victorious.

As soon as she’s out, Derek moves toward her, his voice low and full of quiet admiration. “You were incredible in there.”

Y/N gives him a small smile, but it’s bittersweet. “It’s over.”

Derek steps closer, his voice softening. “You did it, Y/N. You took him down.”

She nods, but before she can respond, her mother’s voice cuts through the moment. Diane, standing at the end of the hall, her eyes wide with shock and regret, had heard every word of Adrian’s confession.

“Y/N…” Diane’s voice trembles, her face pale as she takes a tentative step forward. “I didn’t know. I didn’t believe you and I’m—”

“Stop,” Y/N says, her voice sharp but not raised. She turns to face her mother, eyes hard. “I forgive you, Mom. But I’ll never forget what you did. Or didn’t do.”

Diane’s face crumples as she stares at her daughter, tears welling in her eyes. “Please, Y/N. I didn’t understand. I didn’t know how to—”

Y/N cuts her off again, shaking her head. “It’s too late. You had years to believe me. Years to help me. I’m done waiting for you to care.”

Diane reaches out, but Y/N takes a step back, her face unreadable. “Take care of yourself, Mom. I don’t need you anymore.”

With that, Y/N turns and walks away, the weight of years of pain finally lifted from her shoulders.

Derek watches her go, admiration and sadness flickering in his eyes. He catches up to her and without a word, pulls her into a tight embrace, holding her like he never wants to let go.

“You did good babygirl,” he murmurs into her hair, his voice thick with emotion. “You did real good.”

Y/N lets out a shaky breath, leaning into him. “It’s really over,” she whispers, and for the first time, she truly believes it.

₊‧ʚ ﹆・︵︵ ₊˚๑ ᕱ🌿ᕱ ꒱✦ ₊ ︵︵・₊﹆ɞ‧₊

Y/N stood in her kitchen, stirring the lavender tea she had made for herself, hoping the soothing scent would calm her nerves after the intensity of the past few days. The warmth of the mug seeped into her hands as she glanced at the clock—it was late, and for the first time since they wrapped the case, she was alone. It was a rare, precious quiet. She wore her comfiest pair of sweatpants and an oversized t-shirt, her hair thrown into a messy bun as she padded over to the couch.

She sank into the cushions with a sigh, trying to let the exhaustion slip away. Just as she curled up, ready to embrace the quiet, a knock came at the door.

Her brow furrowed. Who could it be at this hour? A part of her tensed, but when she peeked through the peephole, her face softened.

Derek.

A smile immediately spread across her lips as she quickly unlocked the door and swung it open. "Derek," she said, warmth filling her voice. "What are you doing here?"

He stood there, dressed casually in jeans and a fitted t-shirt, but the warmth in his dark eyes was what made her heart flutter. He held a small box in his hands, the edges of a smile tugging at his lips.

“I couldn’t let you be alone after everything,” he said softly. “And... I brought you something.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow, eyeing the box with curiosity. “Oh? And what’s that?”

Derek stepped forward, holding the box out to her. “Carrot cake. Figured you could use a little sweetness after the last few days.”

Y/N’s smile brightened, and she laughed softly, the tension of the case beginning to melt away. “You remembered it’s my favorite.”

“Of course I did. I remember everything about you,” he said, his voice low and teasing, but there was an underlying sincerity in his words.

She took the box from his hands, shaking her head in amusement. “I think I need something sweeter than carrot cake, though.”

Derek cocked an eyebrow, that signature smirk playing at his lips. “Oh yeah? What’s that?”

Y/N met his gaze, her voice soft but playful. “You.”

The smirk on Derek’s face softened into something more tender as he watched her, his dark eyes flickering with a mixture of admiration and something deeper. “Is that right?”

She stepped aside, motioning for him to come in. “Come on, might as well share the cake if you’re here. I’m not letting you leave just yet.”

Derek chuckled as he stepped inside, glancing around her cozy apartment before his eyes landed back on her. “I wasn’t planning on going anywhere.”

They moved to the living room, and Y/N placed the cake on the coffee table, her heart lighter now that Derek was here. The weight of the last few days seemed to lessen in his presence.

“So,” Derek said as they sat together on the couch, their knees brushing. “How are you holding up?”

Y/N exhaled, leaning back against the cushions. “I’m... okay. Honestly, I’m better now that you’re here. But it’s been a lot. I didn’t think I’d ever have to face him again, let alone...”

She trailed off, and Derek reached out, placing his hand gently on top of hers. “You don’t have to explain. What you did back there? Y/N, you were incredible. You stood your ground. You faced him head-on, and you came out stronger.”

Y/N looked at him, her heart swelling at the tenderness in his voice. “I couldn’t have done it without you,” she said quietly. “You were right there the whole time, and knowing that... it made it easier.”

Derek’s hand slid up from hers, his fingers lightly brushing her cheek before he cupped the side of her face. His touch was warm, grounding. His voice lowered, filled with awe. “Y/N, I’ve always been in awe of you. Always. But after this... what you just went through? You’re the strongest woman I know.”

Her heart fluttered as his thumb softly stroked her cheek, his eyes searching hers. For a moment, neither of them spoke, the space between them charged with something unspoken but undeniably strong.

Y/N’s breath hitched slightly, and she let herself lean into his touch. “Derek...”

Before she could say more, Derek’s eyes flicked to her lips, and in a soft, almost tentative movement, he leaned in and kissed her. It was tender, a kiss filled with emotions that had been building for so long. Her hand found its way to his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heart beneath her palm as she kissed him back, letting the warmth of him pull her in.

When they pulled away, their foreheads rested together, and Y/N smiled softly. “That was...”

“Long overdue,” Derek finished for her, his lips brushing hers again in a whisper of a kiss before he pulled back slightly to look into her eyes. “You’re amazing, you know that? I’m proud of you. And I’m not just saying that because of this case. I’ve always been proud of you.”

Y/N’s chest tightened with emotion, and she bit her lip to keep her smile from spreading too wide. “You’ve always been my rock, Derek.”

“And you’ll always have me,” he said, his voice low and certain, like a promise.

They sat in comfortable silence for a moment, Derek still holding her close, and Y/N couldn’t help but feel a sense of peace she hadn’t felt in days. She rested her head against his shoulder, her fingers still lightly touching his hand.

Derek wrapped an arm around her, pulling her closer as they sank deeper into the couch. Neither of them felt the need to speak anymore, the warmth of their closeness enough.

Eventually, the exhaustion from the case caught up to them. Their breaths evened out as they lay together, bodies intertwined on the couch, the world outside fading away as sleep overtook them.

For the first time in days, Y/N finally felt at peace, knowing she was exactly where she was meant to be—in Derek’s arms, where everything just felt right.

Me too, JJ, I think it's a good idea too.

CRIMINAL MINDS | 3x04 Children of the Dark

jj one shot based on silver springs when 🤷‍♀️

Criminal Minds 17.10 | Save the Children

Rewatching Criminal Minds… I love this show. I love figuring out how the mind works, and understanding why people do the things they do. It helps that the cast of characters is awesome.

chat im so in love with season 13 JJ. she’s so scrumptious in her fbi vest PLEASE

Chat are we actually meant to believe that JJ is in love with Spencer? Like she had so many chances to be with him but she never did. Did the writers mean for it to like actually be a confession or is it just her lying to buy them time? Actually the most confusing decision in the entire show.

Criminal profiler, Federal agent

Born in 1981

Spencer

Spencer Reid

.

.

.

.

Criminal profiler, Federal agent

Born in 1981

Spencer

Spencer Reid

Come on, Spencer, you can do it

Pave the way, put your back into it

Tell us why, show us how

Look at where you came from,

look at you now

Cat Adams

and Tobias Hankel

and Diane Turner

Amateurs, can fucking suck it

Fuck their wives, drink their blood

Come on, Spencer, get 'em!

The Letters You Never Sent | Spencer Reid x Reader

Dear Spencer,

I’m sorry. God Spence, I’m so sorry. I don’t want to do this. And I need you to understand that I had to. I never wanted to leave you. I wish I didn’t have to. You are my everything. I never thought I would get to be with someone as amazing as you. The fact that I could get to wake up next to you every day is something I will cherish while I’m away. You don’t need to wait for me, it would be selfish of me to ask you too, and I understand if you move on. I don’t think I’ll ever get over you. These past few years have been extraordinary and I think they’re the only thing that will keep me going. I love you. I feel like I didn’t say it enough. So I guess I’ll say it now. Please stay strong for me.

I’m sorry,

Bug

Dear Spencer,

It’s been a week since I left and… I don’t know if it’s gonna get better. It should, of course, with time, but right now it hurts. It hurts so much. I know you’re the one who should be grieving. I’m dead to you for god sakes. But it still feels like I’ve lost all of you. And I’m so sorry I’m putting you all through this. I know I’ve said that before but I feel like if I keep saying then you’ll somehow know. There’s so much I want to tell you. Starting with I’m sorry doesn’t feel right, I am, so so so sorry, but I want to start with I love you. It sounds like I’m repeating my last letter but I’m not. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. You need to know that. More people should tell you. You deserve more than you know.

I love you,

Bug

Dear Spencer,

I hope you’re okay. That’s one way to start this, but I do. I’ll always worry about you. I know you can take care of yourself, but still. Life in Paris has been… okay? There’s nothing bad about Paris itself, I just miss you guys. When I see you again I hope to take you here. It’s nice. You would like the Louvre. It’s very interesting, all the artifacts. I know you could probably tell me everything there is to know about each one. I love that about you, you know? All the information you have in the big brain of yours, it’s what first drew me to you. I had just walked into the B.A.U, I was looking for Hotch at the time, and I saw you. I know that’s stupid and cliche but that’s how it went. You were sitting on Morgan's desk, probably rambling with how your hands were waving, and I just knew that I had to get to know you. Your hair was falling in front of your eyes and you just looked… like yourself. So carefree, you looked like someone who hadn’t seen all the horrors of the job. The more time I spent with you the more I knew how amazing you were. Everything you did, everything you said, made me more attracted to you. This is getting long. I should stop here. I love you. I’ll keep telling you that, even if you won’t read these.

I love you,

Bug

Dear Spencer,

Good morning, or afternoon, or night, whatever it is for you. I’m getting better, I hope you are too. I still miss you guys every day, that’s never gonna change. But I’m starting to enjoy the little things. I went to this bakery today. They had the most delicious chocolate croissant that you’ve ever tasted. I hope you’re doing alright. You’re probably still working cases. I’ve been trying to track Doyle, but with my limited resources, I haven’t got much. That’s alright. I know you guys, or at least Derek will do everything you can to catch him. Tell him I’m sorry. He must put all the blame on himself. He shouldn’t. This wasn’t his fault. Even if I did die it still wouldn’t be his fault. I hope all of you know that there’s nothing you could have done. I know that you’re probably confiding in JJ. When I come back, if I do, don’t put the blame on her. This is my fault. She isn’t allowed to say anything. And I wish I could tell you. I wish every day that I could send these letters to you, and be able to tell you how much you mean to me. But I can’t. It could compromise my location. And I don't think Doyle would leave me alive a second time.

I love you,

Bug

Dear Spencer,

I don't know how much longer I can do this. I know I said a while ago that things were getting better but I can't tell anymore. I mourn the loss of you guys every day. I ache to come back. And I don't know how much longer I can go looking at things and know you guys would like them. I went back to that bakery and tried this blueberry muffin, and it made me think of Penelope. Some day if/when I get back I want to take a trip with all of you to Paris. I know you guys would like it here. There’s not much else that’s interesting so I’ll end this now.

I love you,

Bug

Dear Spencer,

I’m coming home. Currently, I’m writing this on the plane. I miss you. And I’m sorry. I wanted to come back on my own terms, not because Doyle found Declan. I can’t wait to see you. I can’t wait to apologize. I’m sorry. I said this in my first letter but I am. So so so sorry. I’ll try to make it up to you. As much as I can. I’ll understand if you move on. I don’t want you to. God no. But I’ve been away for seven months, I won’t put it against you if you do. I should be reviewing what JJ sent me, but I want to tell you so much. I felt I would have more time, more letters to write, I didn’t think Doyle would find him so quickly. I still want to come home. If I had the choice I never would have left you. We’re gonna land soon so I need to end this now.

See you soon,

Bug

Walking into your and Spencer's shared bedroom the first thing you noticed was the tears. They were streaming down Spencer's face as he read one of your many, many,  many  letters. When he heard your sharp intake of air, he looked up from the letter he was holding. “Spence- I- How- How did you find those?” You asked, standing stiffly.

“Why didn’t you give me these?” He questioned, looking up at you. “I… I didn’t want to make you feel like you had to take me back just because I was thinking about you. You shouldn’t feel compelled to be in a relationship with me, and with what I did- I just… I… I couldn’t.” Without you noticing he had gotten up and came to stand in front of you.

“I will love you forever, no matter how long you stay away.  I love you for all that you are, all that you have been, all that you’re yet to be. Ernest Hemingway” He quoted, taking your face into his hands. “I love it when you talk quotes to me.” You replied, snaking your hands into his hair.

“ There ain't no mountain high enough, Ain't no valley low enough, Ain't no river wide enough, to keep me from getting to you. Marvin Gaye.” He whispered, leaning closer to you. Soon you were a hair's breadth away from each other's lips. “I love you.” He said, eyes raking over every detail of your face. “I love you more.” You responded, allowing your eyes to droop. “Not possible.”

Soon his lips were on yours and everything was perfect.

My Wonder (Spencer Reid x Reader)

My Wonder (Spencer Reid x Reader) Word Count: 14,842 Reader insert: she/her pronouns. She is not American unless you are, just has a previous history in American law enforcement. Warnings: mentions of murder, crime scenes, guns, near-death experiences, slow-burn romance, drug addiction, death, and some MAJOR FLUFF! Spoilers: none, as Criminal Minds has been out for literal decades so don't get mad.

All his life, Dr. Spencer Reid has been told he is a genius - gifted, different. When you, a new member of the BAU, arrive, he expects the same weirded-out reaction from you as everyone does. But when you don't, and you instead find him interesting, Spencer finds himself forming an attachment to you. And as the years go on, is it really any wonder that he falls for you?

This is six times you secretly say I love you to Spencer, and one time he says it back in the same fashion.

This man has been eating my brain alive for the past few weeks and I know I'm late but damn he deserves all the appreciation he gets. This was just a silly little idea I had because I'm the kind of person to get obsessed quickly and can't move on until I write it out of my system. Seeing how long this turned out, I have split each moment into six smaller, digestible chapters as linked below. Enjoy xx

Full Story | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6

Spencer Reid was performing some of his physics magic for his colleagues when he first saw you.

He'd just mixed up some water with an antacid tablet and placed within a film canister. He'd done it a hundred times on his own, but he'd only just joined the BAU two months ago, and JJ and Derek hadn't seen it before so he just had to do it. Quickly placing the lid on, he said, 'You can turn around now.'

'I don't understand why we had to in the first place,' Derek said as he grumpily turned around.

'A magician never tells his secrets,' Spencer said, rubbing his hands gleefully. To him, showing off his intellect never got boring.

Well, show off wasn't the proper term. He understood that he could be a lot for some people, knowing so much for a man in his early twenties that looked barely old enough to be out of school, let alone with three Bachelors and PHDs under his belt already. Spouting little known facts or remembering minute details about cases that went back thirty to forty years was just his way of expressing himself. It was his way of contributing to the team. And while his team was getting used to his ramblings and intellect, even demonstrated admiration for it, others would call him a freak.

'If you ask me,' JJ said, 'I wouldn't want to know how he does some things.'

'Fair,' Derek replied, all their eyes on the film canister.

Spencer watched it in anticipation, how the bubbles slipped out between the lid and the canister slowly at first, then started bubbling faster and bigger and-

POP!

The canister rocketed up towards the roof, and all three of them watched with wide eyes as it arced over the bullpen and then down to meet the-

'Ow!'

Spencer ducked into his chair as he watched a young lady in a loose button up shirt, dress pants and boots pat her head. He heard JJ and Derek scurry away, but Spencer remained staring at the woman. Who is she? he thought, his eyes scanning over her.

Your (h/c) hair caught the sunlight, giving it a glow that had Spencer mesmerised. Your (s/c) skin shone with it, making your (e/c) eyes stand out most beautifully. And when you stood back up and made eye contact with him, canister in hand, he found himself frozen, unable to avoid the conclusion that he was the culprit.

'What is this, Reid?' Hotch said, walking up to his desk not looking the least bit impressed. 'Actually, don't answer that. Just don't do it again.'

'Sorry,' Spencer murmured out, a guilty smile stretching his lips slightly.

Hotch blew out a sigh. 'Never mind that now. I would like to introduce you to our new team member. Agent (Y/n) (L/n), a transfer from LA.'

Spencer finally realised that you had walked up with Hotch, and now that you were so close (literally standing a desk apart from one another), he was lost for words at how bright your smile was, and how beautiful you looked that way.

'So you're the one that thought my head was a good landing place for your little... rocket,' you said offering the film canister back, laughter dancing in your words.

It took Spencer a moment for him to realise you wanted him to take the canister back, so he scrambled to his feet, fingers fumbling for the canister. 'No, I-I was just showing how a-an antacid reacts with water, and how, put into a small, confined place, that can cause a chemical, gas-like reaction and cause it to exploded.'

'And launch it like a rocket?' you asked.

He paused as he watched your smile slip a little. Oh no. He'd done it again - made someone feel dumber than him. And while technically that was true, he never meant to make anyone feel like that.

'Y-Yeah?' he answered, awkwardness rising up in his throat, freezing his limbs, his brain.

But then suddenly your smile returned, melting his fear and doubt as you said, 'Cool! I've always loved chemistry. I actually did a Bachelor of Science with a major in archaeological science and a minor in chemistry before I started my BA in Criminology.'

'And now you're here,' he said, a soft smile of his own tugging at his lips.

You nodded, looking around what would now be your new home. 'And now I'm here.'

'Fascinating,' Spencer breathed out. He didn't mean to, but it made you smile more so he didn't mind. It suddenly occurred to him that he hadn't introduced himself. He struck out his arm, rigid as a board, and offered his hand. 'Sorry, I'm Dr. Spencer Reid.'

'Pleasure to meet you, doctor,' you said, taking his hand and shaking it firmly. You skin was as soft as it looked, Spencer noted. 'I very much look forward to working with you and the rest of the team as we go forward.'

'We've got a briefing in five minutes, Reid,' Hotch interrupted, moving to step away from the conversation. 'I'll introduce you to the rest of the team then, (L/n). And if I find you firing another film canister through the sky, Reid-'

'Yes, yes, sorry, no more rockets. Airspace Reid is officially grounded,' Spencer quickly replied, not wanting to get lectured like a twelve-year-old like he usually did.

Your tinkling laughter drew his attention back to you, and he was baffled by the wonderment dancing in your eyes as you looked at him. 'You are a wonder, Dr. Spencer Reid.'

'T-Thanks?' he replied, although he wasn't quite sure if you were making fun of him or not. Most people did if they didn't straight up tell him he was annoying.

Hotch walked away, but you remained for a moment, leaning in close to whisper, 'That's a good thing, by the way.'

'Oh. Right.'

You flashed him one last smile before following your new unit chief, falling back into easy conversation with him as you gracefully floated through the chaotic goings of the office. Spencer couldn't take his eyes off you as you did, in awe of your grace and poise, and how you didn't even stumble when you spoke with him. You were genuine, upfront and honest. You couldn't be much older than himself, he noted, perhaps even younger. He was used to being the baby of the team, but it looked like that would be changing.

The prospect of being able to connect with someone his own age sent an unfamiliar but not unwelcome flutter through his heart.

'Oh, you've got it bad.'

Spencer spun in his chair to see JJ and Derek standing behind him once more, watching him with knowing grins.

'What? What have I got?' he asked. 'I'm not sick... I don't think.'

JJ rolled her eyes and giggled as she walked away, Spencer just catching a quiet, 'This'll be fun,' as she did. But Derek walked closer, placing a firm hand on his shoulder, and that knowing grin stretched wider, more feline and cheeky.

'Don't worry, pretty boy,' he said. 'You'll figure it out soon. You're smart, right?'

'Well, smart isn't really the quite term for someone with an eidetic memory and an IQ of 187-'

'And pep talk is over,' Derek interrupted, abruptly walking away back to his desk and leaving Spencer in a disarray of emotions.

So he looked back to where you had gone, and found you speaking with Penelope, nodding enthusiastically to whatever she was talking to you about. But you weren't just being polite, you appeared genuinely interested in the conversation, even though Spencer noted you barely contributed to it.

'You are a wonder, Dr. Spencer Reid.'

All his life, Spencer had been told he was a genius - gifted, different. It had just become an effortless part of who he is. It was almost expected at this point to see weirded-out or overly-amazed expressions from people he didn't know. So why then, when you said that to him, did he feel happy about it?

He checked his watch. Almost briefing time. He got up from his seat and made his way to the briefing room where only a place beside you was available. Maybe he would find out soon enough.

~

It became a casual thing, for you to comment on how wonderful Dr. Spencer Reid was. Every day in the office, whenever you travelled to cases, even out in the field, sometimes in not-so-great situations.

It was only ever once, but you always managed to find something to say, 'You are a wonder, Dr Reid,' to him. Sometimes it was his full name, sometimes just doctor. Sometimes, he was just Spencer. Apart from JJ, you were the only one who ever really called him by his first name. Oddly enough for him, he liked it when he was just Spencer, not the Boy Genius or freak or computer.

But the next time you told him that and it meant something to him was ten months after he ended his drug addiction.

He sat at his desk in the bullpen finishing some paperwork, or at least attempting to. They'd just gotten back from a long and exhausting case and his brain (the very thing he knew he could always rely on) refused to coordinate with his hands and eyes. The information he wished to write out felt jammed at his fingers tips, appeared blurry in his vision.

'Gosh,' he breathed out, leaning back in his seat defeated as he rubbed at his tired eyes. No doubt black bags sagged beneath them.

It had been a long, exhausting case. The team had gone to Dallas to find a serial killer who'd been leaving a trail of dead doctors and pharmacists over the span of months which had suddenly turned into weeks, then days once the team joined the case.

The unsub had spiralled, devolved so to say, alluding to a psychotic break. But when they'd found him, he was not the malicious, sadistic person they'd first expected. Spencer was the first on the scene and had instead found a young man in his early twenties, not much younger than himself. All he'd wanted was some off-market narcotic that took away the pain from the physical abuse he received from his father.

And while Spencer's trauma was not the same, he couldn't help but see the parallels. When he'd looked the young man in the eyes, it was like looking into a mirror. All he saw was himself, drowning in his own trauma, his own fear, his own pain.

Spencer scoped the bullpen, suddenly noticing the silence. Not a single person was left. He then looked at his watch - half past ten. He hadn't noticed people leaving whatsoever. Not surprising considering his current state, his current condition.

Spencer slowly reached down to the bottom drawer of his desk, a sudden urge coursing through him to do so. Slowly again, almost hesitantly, he pulled it open and leafed through the many spare manilla folders that sat oddly in there until he reached the bottom.

It was just one vial, but just the mere sight of it sent relief rushing through Spencer. Dilaudid. He gently cradled it up to his eyes, admiring how the glass doors of the entrance became obscured as he looked through the transparent but murky liquid. After this case, what he wouldn't give to have a needle right now. Just one hit-

'Well, if it isn't Dr. Spencer Reid burning the midnight oil.'

Spencer almost dropped the vial as he scrambled to shove it deep into his pant pocket just as you appeared out of nowhere from the conference room.

'Sorry,' you said, an apologetic smile already on your lips. 'I didn't mean to startle you.'

'It's okay,' he replied as casually as possible. It was one thing to nearly be caught out by your colleague that you had an illegal narcotic you used to have an addiction for in your hand, but another when that colleague is one you've admired since the day you met. 'I was lost in thought, anyways.'

'Well just as well then. I can only imagine how depthless your brain must go with all that knowledge crammed in there.' You walked down the stairs to the floor of the bullpen and walked to him. You were still in your clothes from the past twenty-four hours, and your light makeup looked like it was lifting off your face like a second skin. Even your unrelenting smile seemed to sag with exhaustion.

Spencer straightened up in his seat, suddenly concerned. 'You okay, (Y/N)? You look-'

'Like trash?' you finished as you pulled up a chair of your own and sat in front of him. 'I have no doubt.'

Spencer looked behind your back into the conference room, his eyebrows furrowing when he spotted stacks of folders and loose paperwork spread across the table. 'That all yours?'

You looked back to the mess of words and paper you'd just escaped and sighed dramatically. 'Oh, yeah. Seems like the longer the case, the more paperwork you have to do. Poor trees.'

'Yeah...' Spencer found it odd how much paperwork you had to get through. Even he didn't have that much to get through. But before he could question you about it, your soft voice filled the damning void that surrounded him.

'How are you feeling, you know, after this case?'

'What do you mean?' he asked.

'Don't give me that,' you say, your smile now replaced by a seriousness Spencer only saw on you when you were making an arrest or in really dire situations. You've worked together for almost three years now, he knew all the faces you pulled, all of your likes and dislikes, how you liked your coffee only after you've completed one task for the day to prove you can survive without it but choose not to.

He knows you, so it should not be surprising that you know him just as well.

'The moment we found out the unsub's objective, you've been a little... off.'

'Well, it shouldn't be surprising considering that was me just ten months ago,' he said matter-of-factly, pulling back into his shell, putting up his guard. 'I mean, if Hotch hadn't have found out about it, that could've been me-'

'No it wouldn't have.'

Spencer scoffed, but not in a demeaning manner. He just didn't believe you for a moment because he could see the facts, the statistics, in his head. 'Over 45% percent of addicts relapse at least twice. This is without the intervention or support by health care clinics and families and friends, and this case just proved that. So, yes, it could've been-'

'But it wasn't,' you intervened again, your voice echoing like soft thunder through the empty office. It gave you presence, forcing Spencer to look at you, like really look at you, and face what you were about to say.

'You had help and support from people that care about you, Spence,' you continued, sitting forward in your seat. 'And I don't care about the statistics, you're not one of them. You're your own person and you can determine where you add value in life, not by some... statistically-informed percentage prediction... thing.'

That drew a laugh out him, the quiet but sudden sound surprising him slightly. 'Stastically-informed percentage prediction, huh?'

'Shut up,' you grumbled and playfully punched his shoulder. When you both calmed down, you continued. 'When I realised who we were looking for, for a moment I kind of got scared.'

Spencer raised a quizzical eyebrow 'Scared?'

You nodded. 'The truth is that... when you were kidnapped and... you had to endure all that pain alone... I was terrified. We all were. Even when we found you, I was terrified. Because I knew you would never be the same, and not that it's your problem, but I knew in that moment that I would never forgive myself for not finding you sooner. For not going with you and JJ to the farm.'

Tears welled up in your eyes and Spencer immediately leant forward. To do what, he didn't know, he just needed you to know he was there for you, like you always were for him.

'I'm sorry,' you mutter, blinking the tears away before they could fall. 'Your trauma is not my own. I have no right to express my guilt.'

'There's nothing to feel guilty for,' he said, reaching out slowly with his hands, the ones that slightly shook as he laid them on your own.

To his relief, you smiled. It wasn't full, but it was there. 'You're a horrible liar, Spencer Reid.' That brought some laughter out of you both, lightening the suffocating air of the office.

'But even when we found out about you and the dilaudid,' you continued, pulling yourself together, if only to let Spencer know your true thoughts. 'I wasn't even mad.'

A large lump formed in Spencer's throat, and he had a hard time swallowing it along with the threat of tears that burned behind his amber eyes. 'You... You weren't?'

It was the mixture of surprise and hope that pulled at your heart, that made you feel obligated to keep speaking. 'Why should I have been? I was not the one who was tortured mentally and physically by a split-personality murderer; and who also witnesses the darkest, most ugliest aspects of humanity every single day of his life. It was not my place to judge how you hold onto your own humanity.'

Your eyes until then had never left his, but they flickered downwards then, and Spencer froze at where your gaze landed.

It only lasted a moment before your eyes returned to his, and it startled him the lack of sympathy he finds there, but instead warmth. 'It is still not my place to judge,' you said, twisting your hands so they could clasp his fully. 'All I know is that... you are stronger than you give yourself credit for. So much stronger than me, JJ, Pen, Emily - heck, I'd say you're even stronger than Derek. But not Hotch, Gideon, and Rossi, though. Then again, no one is.'

You both chuckled at that, and all the tension in his body seemed to dissipate at the sound. So light and airy, it was what he imagined heaven sounded like.

'The point is,' you continued, giving his hands a squeeze, 'you are a wonder, Spencer Reid. We all see it. You've just got to now see it, too.'

Spencer stared at you, dumbfounded and conflicted within himself. He felt like he wanted to cry and laugh at the same time. And a great urge to suddenly engulf you in a hug started itching his limbs, which was weird because he didn't care much physical affection, or affection in general. But before he could decide what he wanted to do, you decided for him.

You gave his hands one last squeeze before letting go and standing up. The absence of your touch left him cold as he followed you as you went back into the conference room to pack up. Surprisingly it didn't take you long until you came back out, your coat and bag in hand.

'Don't stay up too long, now,' you said as you passed him by, your smile so radiant it was almost as if you weren't crying just a few minutes before. 'We've got a long day ahead.'

As soon as the elevator door closed on you, he pulled out the vial of dilaudid and stared it down. It was like it was taunting him, sitting idly, innocently, in his palm, as if it knew he desperately wanted it, needed it.

'...you are stronger than you give yourself credit for... you are a wonder, Spencer Reid. We all see it. You've just got to now see it, too.'

For some reason, though, he suddenly didn't need it. The fire, the urge, the want and reliance for it - he was suddenly weightless with clarity, if only for a moment.

Spencer chucked the vial in the dumpster outside the office when he left. It was hard, but he did it. He knew he wasn't cured, that there was still a long road ahead. But it was a start.

The next day when he came into the office, Derek was the first to comment on his haggard appearance.

'Seriously man,' he said, trailing Spencer out of the break room, 'you look like a ghoul. Did you sleep at all last night.'

'I was here late last night doing paperwork,' he explained, sitting himself and his coffee down at his desk. 'You should go see (y/n), she probably looks a little worse for wear herself from staying late last night, too.'

'Oh, she stayed late too, did she?'

'It's not like that,' Spencer insisted, swatting at Derek pathetically. 'She had a mountain of paperwork to finish of her own.'

'Y/N?' Emily said as she walked by with JJ, identical coffees in their hands. 'She finished her paperwork at about the same time I did.'

'Yeah, we were walking out together before she turned back into the office. Said she had to talk with Hotch,' JJ said.

'I remember that,' Spencer added. 'You guys said goodnight to me on your way out.' Not that he had responded, he suddenly recalled, a pang of guilt punching his gut.

'Who had to talk with me?' The man himself suddenly walked by, stopping at the congregated group upon hearing his name.

'Y/n,' Emily answered. 'Last night.'

'Oh, yes. She, uh, asked if there was anymore paperwork to do.'

'Why would she do that when she was done?' JJ asked.

'I don't know,' Hotch said, making his way towards his office, 'but who am I to turn away someone who wants to do paperwork for free? Now, briefing in ten minutes.'

As the others dispersed back to their desks, Spencer didn't know how to feel about this new information. It didn't help the matter when you finally dragged yourself into the office, dark circles peaking out from under your thin layer of foundation. But as you sat at your desk, eyes drooping as you logged onto your laptop, he knew just what to do.

It took you a second to register the cup of coffee being held in front of your dazed eyes, and another to realise who was holding it.

'Late night?' Spencer asked, a coy smile on his lips.

Despite your exhaustion, you managed to grab the cup without spilling any of the precious caffeine that would help you through the day. 'Yeah,' you decided to play dumb, answering as enthusiastically as possible. 'Paperwork, you know. Never-ending.'

Spencer hummed, contemplating his next words carefully. 'Well, I hope giving up your sleep was worth it, then.'

'I'd like to think it was.'

The way you didn't hesitate to answer struck a chord of truth in him that left him dumbfounded once more. Twice in under twenty-four hours? That had to be a new record for him.

But instead of freezing up, he managed an honest smile as he clanked his coffee cup with your own. 'Well... it is certainly most appreciated.'

~

The next time you dumbfounded him, he almost kissed you.

Ever since you had joined the BAU, you and Spencer had alway had a sweet partnership. But after that night in the office, you had become inseparable. Best friends, to put simply. You stayed late at the office to keep each other company, brought each other coffee and treats, spent free days checking out the new films playing in the cinema.

You had inside jokes, and fought like an old, married couple - a fact the team loved to bring up whenever possible. But you liked it like that. Spencer was your person, and you were his.

And as much as he wowed you everyday, you managed to surprise him on occasions, too.

You were both paired up to interrogate a suspect. You personally didn't believe she was the killer, but Spencer didn't like to base anything from solely his gut. In other words, he was skeptical.

'I didn't kill those women,' your suspect said. 'And even if wanted to kill them, it would be for something more worthwhile than a stupid role.'

'Jealously isn't as far-fetched a reason to kill as you may believe,' Spencer stated to her. 'Particularly in women, the feeling of being threatened or in danger of losing something important to them brings out almost a maternal instinct to protect what they believe to be is theirs.'

'You think all actresses are that low? That shallow?' The young woman was pretty, but her face scrunched up in an ugly manner at the insinuation.

'He doesn't think that at all,' you interjected. 'In fact, he quite likes actresses, don't you buddy?'

Spencer gave you a side eye to which you smiled sickly-sweetly at in return. You were never going to let the Lila fling down any time soon.

You looked back at the young woman, your face returning to empathetic, concerned. She had a wall up, she was wearing a mask. If you wanted answers out of her, you needed to connect with her.

You leaned forward on the table, positioning yourself in front of Spencer so all her focus was on you.

'Anna,' you said softly, like you were speaking to a friend. 'I know you didn't do it. You're different than all those other girls right? You've worked hard to get where you are. Small town girl wanting to make a name for herself in an industry that can be ruthless and heartless as the killer that's still out there. You are classically trained, by-the-book, no shortcuts. I bet you started on the stage of your elementary school, landing the lead role.'

The young woman looked at you with skepticism for a moment, then you saw a crack in her mask as she nodded. 'I was Mary in the Christmas production. But it wasn't until high school when we preformed Shakespeare's The Tempest that I knew this was what I wanted to do with my life.'

Spencer noticed your smile now, how it lifted in a manner that sung of melancholy and fondness.

'"We are such stuff as dreams are made on.",' you said whimsically, and Spencer noted a familiarity that had the words rolling off your tongue with ease. Like it was muscle memory.

'Such a beautiful line, right?' the young woman asked.

'Yes, but, when translated into our modern English, it is quite sad really.' You make eye contact with the young woman and hoped she saw the understanding and slight desperation in your eyes. 'It means that life is an illusion, and a fleeting one at that. I don't necessarily believe in the first part of that, but it is true that life is fleeting. So before you end up the next aspiring actress in our morgue, you've got to tell us everything you know.'

The rest of the interrogation went smoothly. Honestly, it was the easiest one Spencer had ever sat in before. And all the while he had just sat there in awe of you.

'I didn't know you read Shakespeare,' he said randomly as they drove together in a local police SUV to meet with the rest of the team at the new suspect's house.

You scoffed. 'See that's the biggest misconception of Shakespeare. That it can only be read. In fact, it actually shouldn't be just read. It needs to be performed.'

Amusement danced upon Spencer's lips. 'Are you saying you were in a Shakespearean play? Which one? Actually, let me guess. Romeo and Juliet.'

'That's a cliche.'

'Twelfth Night? How about Taming of the Shrew?'

'Why do you want to know so badly?'

'Because I...' It suddenly occurred to him that he didn't quite know why he wanted to know. Only that he knows everything and you were his best friend and he didn't know something about you.

You spared him a sympathetic smile from the driver's seat before returning your eyes to the road. 'If you must know... it was actually The Tempest. It was my high school's production, too. And as much as he irritates me, I grew fascinated with Shakespeare's work after that. It even prompted me to do a unit or two in Shakespearean literature and performance during my uni days.'

You allowed yourself to slip back in time a little to those days, that melancholy and fondness finding its way back into your smile, Spencer noticed.

'Outside of Shakespeare though, I'll admit... I was a theatre kid.'

'No way!' Spencer exclaimed. 'You?'

'Why is it so unbelievable that I used to dress up and spout lines that no one really understood?' you asked, but you weren't offended. Simply amused that you seemed to have stunned the (until now) un-stunnable Dr. Spencer Reid.

'Because... it's just so left of field from anyone else in the team.'

'And is that a bad thing?'

'...not at all,' he said after a moment, and then proceeded to drop the matter entirely. Spencer Reid never forgets anything, he couldn't forget, not with his eidetic memory. But he made extra special care to file that little fact about you away for now.

A few days after returning home from wrapping that case up, you came into work to find your coffee already made on your desk, and beside it was an envelope. Curious, you swiftly opened the envelope and gasped with pure surprise at what you found.

'I thought you might like them,' Spencer said as he approached you, his own coffee in hand. 'The ticket vendor said they were the best seats in the house.'

'Oh my God, Spencer!' You couldn't help yourself, you leapt onto the gangly man like a frog and held him tighter than you'd ever hugged someone before, avoiding spilling Spencer's coffee. You were so excited you even smacked a fat, grateful kiss on his unsuspecting cheek before letting him go. 'Tickets to ASC's production of The Tempest?! How did you even get these, I was told they were all gone.'

'Believe it or not, I have connections everywhere,' Spencer answered a bit too vaguely but you didn't care. 'Even in areas that aren't of my particular expertise. I figured you and a friend could go enjoy it before it finishes up.'

'You mean you're not coming?'

Spencer tried not to read into it too much, but he swore he heard a little hiccup in your question, like you were upset. 'W-Well, I, I, uh, didn't want to assume anything. I mean, y-you might want to take JJ, or Emily-

'Spencer.' It was ridiculous how easy he listened when you said his name, how he dropped everything to listen to what you had to say whenever you did. And his heart faltered when he made eye contact with you and saw joy and hope lighting up your eyes. 'Would you like to come to the show with me?'

And it wasn't any wonder, then, that he replied without hesitation, 'Y-Yeah! All right, s-sure. Would love to.'

'Amazing!' Spencer once again had to juggle his coffee and you as you squeezed all the air out of him in another bone-crushing hug. 'Spencer Reid, you have just made my day.'

It was a week later and the night of the performance. You drove yourself and Spencer two and a half hours straight from Quantico down to Staunton to the American Shakespeare Centre, reciting and recalling your favourite Shakespearean moments the whole trip.

Spencer made the extreme effort to look presentable, pulling out a nice suit set, even replacing his usual casual sneakers with some shiny boots. His hair was slicked back out of his face, with only the slightest stubble on his chin and upper lip.

When you picked him up, you said he looked handsome. He never cared much for his appearance, but that comment warmed his heart slightly, made him sit more upright in his seat.

Once you pulled up and got out of the car, he finally saw you in all your glory. A navy blue dress clung to your frame beautifully; kitten heels cradled your feet as you walked up the stairs to the theatre's entrance; your jewellery brought out the (e/c) in your eyes, even further accentuated by your simple makeup and hair.

Spencer has met Nobel price winners, attorney generals, even spoken with the most psychotic people humanity has to offer. And yet there you stood - ethereal, angelic, striking him silent with just your presence.

'You coming, Boy Wonder?'

You'd reached the top the stairs without him moving a muscle. Embarrassed, he tried to cover it up with a cough as he scrambled to catch up with you. 'Boy Wonder? Where did that come from?'

You shrugged playfully as you hooked your arm through his. 'Just seemed appropriate.'

'I'm twenty-seven, (y/n). I'm hardly a boy.'

'Oh, so would you prefer I call you Batman?'

Spencer raised a quizzical eyebrow. 'I didn't know you liked DC comics.'

'There's a lot you still don't know about me, Spencer Reid,' you answered, handing over your tickets to the ticket vendor at the door. 'Like how I've always preferred Robin over Batman, anyway.'

You quickly found your seats, and Spencer tried not to acknowledge how tight-knit the seats were pressed together. His thigh pressed lightly against your own, and he couldn't tell if he hated or liked the feeling that suddenly sprouted in his gut.

It distracted him so much that instead of watching the performance, he looked at you. How you reacted to each sonnet, to the entrance of new characters, to the costuming and the music and emotion that filled the room with every word spoken. He watched it all, your joy, your love. Your heart was on your face, and it struck something new and unexplored inside him.

You cried at one point, and physical touch wasn't his forte, but he intertwined his fingers with yours and gave them a reassuring squeeze that he was there. You'd turned to him briefly and nodded, showing that you understood and that you were grateful.

You didn't let go of his hand for the rest of the show.

'Wow,' you breathed out as you exited the theatre, the performance finally done. 'That was...'

'Yeah. I feel the same,' Spencer finished, his hands shoved into his pockets as they walked down the stairs towards the carpark. His hand still burned from your touch, and that unsure feeling in his gut still remained.

'It was just so... magical.'

'I would say impressive, but magical works too, I guess.'

'Says the guy who still goes trick-or-treating on Halloween and believes in ghosts. Don't tell me you don't believe in the supernatural now.'

'I'm not saying I don't believe. I'm just saying that it's impressive that they were able to make fantastical magic seem slightly realistic.'

You playfully shove him, causing you both to fall into laughter. The two different melodies mixing together made Spencer feel lighter than he'd felt in a while. This was different to when you usually hung out. This time, there was no case, no team, nothing but yourselves to worry about.

'It doesn't matter, anyways,' you said, stopping on the steps suddenly. Spencer went down one more before stopping too. You smiled gratefully at him. It was a cool, autumn night, cool enough that your breath danced like ghosts in front of you as you spoke. 'Thank you, Spence. This was a wonderful night. You didn't have to do this.'

'I know,' he said, and it startled him how quiet and soft his voice was. 'I just... I just wanted you to enjoy the stuff you love. You deserve to enjoy the stuff you love.'

His acute eyes fell to your shoulders and noticed the slight shake in them. 'Here.' He wasted no time pulling his jacket off and wrapping it around your shoulders, pulling it tight to capture the warmth.

You gratefully held onto the jacket, the warmth it captured seeping into your eyes. 'You truly are a wonder, Spencer,' you said, your words dancing in between you two.

He was only the step down now, making you two eye level with one another. He was so close he could see himself in your eyes. He wondered if you could see yourself in his.

'Am I?' he asked, his breath mixing with yours.

'Yeah...'

He felt your warmth, and he suddenly decided that he liked the feeling in his gut. The one that had been driving him crazy all night. The one that had an iron grip on his mind, his heart. The one that pulled him closer to you, to your lips.

His eyes were almost closed and his lips almost on yours. You didn't back away - you didn't want to back away you realised. No matter how hard your heart pounded in your chest. No matter if he was your best friend.

So you leaned in too, and you could just feel the stars and planets align as you tasted his breath-

The front of your heel slipped on the edge of the step, sending you flying forwards into Spencer's chest. His reflexes had improved immensely since joining the BAU, and so he managed to grab hold of you and hold himself up before your momentum could send you both tumbling down the remaining stairs.

You both breathed in heavy gulps of air, steadying both your hearts from what could've happened.

'Nice catch,' you said after a moment, loosening your grip on Spencer only a little.

'Thanks.' He didn't know where to look. You, the ground, his surroundings. It all just felt muddled, as if his whole world had been tilted on its axis.

In a sense, it had.

But he felt your gaze, and he couldn't deny your eyes so he looked at you also. You eyes were blown wide, and the slight catch in your breath had him second guessing himself. Maybe he'd read you wrong after all. He'd never been wrong before, but there was always a first time for everything, he figured.

'(Y/n), look, I-'

Before he could attempt to salvage himself, the irritating ring of his phone went off, breaking the glass dome of solitude you'd' forged together with nothing but words and air.

This forced you apart, awkwardly so, as Spencer readjusted you on his step before letting you go completely and fishing his phone out of his pant pocket. He checked the ID caller: Hotch.

He accepted the call and brought the phone to his ear. 'Hotch, what's up?'

'New case,' the unit chief answered without pleasantries. 'I know we're all meant to be off for the weekend but this one is important.'

'Where is it and we'll be there.'

'You're with (Y/n), right? In Staunton?'

'Yeah, why?'

'Head to the local police. We'll meet you there. That's where the case is.'

'Okay. Gotcha.'

Hotch ended the call and then it was just him and you once more. Although instead of the air feeling freeing and warming, Spencer couldn't seem to get enough in his lungs. It was like he was suffocating, having to face you again.

So he slipped into work mode, keeping Hotch's urgency and the new case in the forefront of his mind. 'New case. Here in Staunton. Hotch wants us to head down to the police and meet them there.'

'Right.' You seemed to think the same as him - it's probably why you were best friends to begin with - as the ethereal light in your eyes dimmed with the severity of the new situation. Without another word, you both bee-lined for the car, jumped in, and made your way to the local police station.

But for the rest of the case, Spencer couldn't help but think about that moment with you on the steps. He'd kissed before, of course, even dabbled in flirting despite how little he knew about the craft. He'd never imagined he'd attempt it all on you, however. Not even in his wildest dreams.

~

He didn't hear your heart-stopping compliment again until it was almost too late.

After the Staunton case, you and Spencer had been... odd. Well, mainly Spencer, as he spoke as little as possible to you during cases, and always offered to go with anyone else but you on certain tasks. He even stopped coming over to yours for movie night each Saturday, claiming each time to be busy or unwell. It was Spencer's only way of ensuring nothing like that night ever happened again.

He convinced himself the moment was fleeting, just a mixture of chemicals in his brain combined with the adrenaline of being with a beautiful women he very much admired that made him read the signs wrong. You were friends, that was all you were, and all he would ever allow you to be.

This went on for three months.

And you were miserable.

Emily, JJ and Penelope recognised the change in your demeanour at work first, and when they found out the reason behind it, they slapped Spencer upside the head on their way out of the office one Friday afternoon and took you with them, promising a wonderful night out on the town.

That night, to Spencer's eventual annoyance, you'd met someone. A charming young firefighter named Riley who lived in Washington DC and was just in town to see family.

That night, you hooked up. And the next morning, he asked you on a date. That date led to another, then more. You were on your way to another one tonight when you got a phone call from JJ saying they found the latest unsub's house and were planning a raid on it.

Spencer knew you were on a date when he also got the phone call to come along. Despite his distance (by his own choice, he always had to remind himself), he kept tabs on you, checked in on you via others. And while the girls of the team were awfully mad at him, they always answered him when he asked how you were doing.

'You know, for a genius, you really are quite stupid,' JJ told him when he asked about you.

He quirked his eyebrow, genuinely confused. 'I'm sorry?'

'She's heartbroken,' Penelope added. 'Her best friend just gives her the silent treatment out of nowhere after what sounded like a magical night at the theatre. Who wouldn't be upset by that, Reid?'

'I just,' he paused, rallying his thoughts into words that couldn't quite describe how he felt. 'It's complicated.'

'Love shouldn't be complicated, Reid,' Emily interjected, a soft but sad smile gracing her painted lips.

Spencer swallowed thickly at that. 'W-What do you mean?'

Derek finished making his coffee and took a sip of it before answering. 'We all see it, Reid. You don't have to deny anymore how you feel.'

'I'm not denying anything, Morgan.'

'Maybe not to us,' Derek continued. 'But you are definitely denying it to yourself. All I can say is don't wait until it's too late. She's already slipping away.'

That's when Spencer found out about your dates with Riley, and an ugly, selfish, hurt part of him wanted to scream with anger. Mainly at himself, but the damage was done and he had to get over you.

But when you showed up to the unsub's home, your FBI bullet-proof vest on and mascara slightly smeared under your eyes, he was beyond confused. And concerned.

'You're here,' he stated matter-of-factly.

'You sound surprised,' you answered stiffly, loading your gun without even glancing at him.

'To be honest, yeah. JJ and the rest all said you were out tonight. I figured you-'

'What? That I would ignore the call because I had something personal planned?' You finally looked up at him, and man did your cold stare pierce him like an arrow. 'This is my job, Spence. I knew, same as you and everyone else, that I would have to make some sacrifices to do it. So please, don't think so little of me just because I attempted to have a life outside of it.'

He grew more concerned at your choice of words. 'Attempted?' he asked, but then he looked closely at your smeared mascara, at the redness circling your eyes. Like you'd been crying-

'Don't worry about it,' you muttered, brushing past him to meet up with the team. 'You haven't for about four months now.'

Spencer tried to ignore the sting your words brought with them as he followed you to the rest of the team, forcing himself to put the case in front of you. But he'd done that for the past four months as you had so brightly pointed out, and look where it had landed him.

'Now remember,' Hotch started, bringing the team and some other officers in to brief, 'this unsub may use this place as his base to build his bombs, but don't discredit the idea that he wouldn't blow it up to save himself. Tread carefully but be vigilant, he is in the house somewhere. Now move.'

Spencer followed you into the house through the front door, gun and flashlight at the ready. All that could be heard were the soft but swift patter of footsteps as the FBI and local police ran in. The lights were on, but no unsub.

You were silently directed by Hotch to investigate the back end of the house, to which Spencer and Derek followed. You focussed on maintaining your breathing as you tried not to think about your date, Spencer, your heart thrashing in your ribcage. Only the unsub mattered.

The three of you broke into the last room of the house, the laundry. Upon entry, you spotted him, the unsub, running out the back door into the backyard.

'Hey!' you called out, immediately breaking into a sprint after him. You broke out of the laundry onto a cemented path towards a clothes line, chasing after him towards the fence line. But as you stepped off the path and onto the grass, something gave way beneath your feet, followed by a resounding click that had your freezing with fear.

'(L/n), keep going!' Derek shouted from somewhere behind you.

'Hold up!' you cried, throwing an arm back behind you. 'I think the yard is full of bombs.'

'Well, let's go around the front and get him in the back streets, come on!'

'I can't,' you replied back, slightly breathless from running, but also from the fear constricting now your airways.

'Why?' You didn't have to see him to know it was Spencer, concern dripping from just one word.

'Because I'm standing on one.'

Spencer knew it was physically impossible, but he was sure his stomach just dropped out of him and onto the bomb-littered grass around them. This was bad. Like very very bad.

'Shit,' Derek breathed out before bringing his wrist up to his mouth. 'Hotch, the unsub got away over the back fence, send some men to intercept him two blocks north from here.'

'Got it,' Hotch answered efficiently.

'And send the bomb squad out here. Yard is like a mine field and (L/n) is standing on one.'

After that, it didn't take long for the rest of the team to run outside, making extra careful to stand only on the pavements as they got as close to you as they could. Spencer stood the closest, standing directly in front of you as the bomb squad swept the yard for the rest of them.

'I've got some good news and some bad news,' one member of the bomb squad said as she came up to the team. 'Good news is it's the only bomb in the yard.'

'And I just managed to find it. Super,' you muttered, your tone shaky although the intention was to lighten the mood.

'Bad news is it's a pressure-triggered bomb, meaning that if you move even a fraction it'll go off. Also, by stepping on it, you've set of a timer until it explodes. The only way to disarm it seems to be a code of some kind.'

'How long do we have?' Spencer asked, not bothering to mask his desperation. This couldn't be happening. Of all the people, it had to be you.

'Six hours now,' she said grimly. 'My team and I will do everything we can to dismantle it and shut it off manually, but it's built quite strong so it'll be tough to crack open without setting it off. Your best bet will be to get an answer from your bomber.'

'Uniforms just called in,' Rossi said. 'They're bringing him in now.'

'Good,' Hotch said with a ferocity that would send most people running for the hills. 'He's gonna give us that code one way or another.' He turned to you, determination blazing in his eyes. 'Hang tight, (Y/n). We're gonna get you off that thing.'

'I'll hold you to that,' you joked, and you were grateful to receive a soft smile in return from Hotch and the rest of the team. Except for Spencer, he couldn't find it in himself to smile. He could barely think no thanks to your dangerous position.

'I'll stay with (Y/n),' Spencer said, his voice strained compared to his usual calmness.

'Reid,' Derek started, 'you're our best bet to crack open this guy. If we find something-'

'Then I'll have my phone ready to pick up. I'm not leaving her.'

It surprised you the strength you heard hidden underneath his fear. It was there in his eyes too, blazing like Hotch's, except with more warmth, more determination.

Derek looked to Hotch, and Hotch just nodded. 'Okay fine, but you better pick up on the first ring.'

'Promise.'

'I'll stay to help with the bomb squad,' Emily said while also looking at you.

'No,' you said as Hotch, Derek and JJ left. 'You all should go. In case he somehow remotely sets it off himself.'

'We're not leaving,' Reid said firmly, making eye contact with you. 'Not until you're off that bomb, you hear me?'

You wanted to argue, trying to be selfless and strong. But the truth was you were terrified, and to hear Spencer's strength where you lacked helped you push your pride aside and nod in agreement.

Time had flown by and it was now the last ten minutes. Spencer had received phone call after phone call but nothing had been helpful. They'd tried two potential codes already but they didn't work. The bomb squad quickly realised that they only had three chances to get the code right and so they were down to the last chance.

'You guys should really leave,' you said amidst your chattering teeth. It was now just after midnight and your thin button up and the bulletproof vest were not cutting it anymore. Spencer wished he could give you a blanket, a jacket, his own shirt for God's sake if it would keep you warm slightly.

'That's not going to happen,' he answered without hesitation.

You yawned, eyes threatening to droop close. Your legs had gone numb long ago. You were unsure how you were holding yourself up. It certainly wasn't by adrenaline. Perhaps you were frozen in place.

'I mean it, Spence,' you said, bracing yourself as another shiver threatened to spasm your entire body. 'It's the last ten minutes. You should be clear in case it goes off.'

'I'm not going to do that.'

'Damnit, Spencer. Of all the times to be stubborn, you choose now?'

'I'm not being stubborn,' Spencer argued. Were you purposefully trying to tick him off now? 'I'm trying to save your life!'

'You're right, you're not being stubborn. You're being plain stupid,' you retorted. You weren't sure why you were suddenly so angry, you just didn't like him playing the hero when he didn't have to.

'Yes! I am stupid, I admit that. I'll announce that to the entire neighbourhood right now if you want me to! Because if it weren't for me being an idiot, you wouldn't have had those dates, you wouldn't have had a date tonight, and maybe you wouldn't be stuck standing on a bomb right now!'

You stared incredulously at Spencer. He blamed himself for your situation? For Riley?

Despite the bustling of people around them, everything grew silent as youO stared at one another, Spencer's chest heaving as he sucked in air hard.

'Spence,' you said softly, your anger suddenly dissipating. 'I don't blame you for any of this. I would've ended up on this bomb one way or another. Or even worse, it could've been you standing on it. And as for Riley...' You thought the tears would come up again like before, but your eyes remained dry, and your heart didn't pull harshly.

Not for Riley, anyways.

'Did something happen between you two?' Spencer tentatively asked. His tone bordered on concerned and hopeful, demonstrating his torn mindset to whatever you were about to say.

You nodded. 'I told him I had to go to work, which wasn't unusual, but he just flipped. Said he was sick of me choosing you guys over him and that he was finished.'

He hated himself for feeling the slightest bit happy at the news, but his best friend instincts kicked in, and all he wanted to do was reach out and hold you. 'I'm sorry. You could've said no. We would've understood-'

'Spencer, I will always choose you guys over anyone,' you interjected, and the complete seriousness on your face reflected your sincerity brighter than the full moon above. 'I will always choose you, Spence.'

It was then Spencer saw it: the same feeling he'd had swirling in his stomach for months reflected in your eyes. It scared him, but what scared him more was that it would all be gone soon if he didn't do anything about it.

He would be too late, just like Derek said.

The bomb squad lady and Emily walked up to them both, and Spencer did not like the grim expressions on their faces.

'I'm sorry,' the bomb squad lady said. 'It's the last five minutes. There's nothing else we can do but clear out of the blast zone.'

'What about the code?' Spencer pressed, but Emily shook her head.

'Reid, they've gotten nothing out of him. We've got to go.'

'But we can't just leave her here-'

'Trust me, Spencer, I don't want to either!' Emily cried, tears pricking at her eyes at the thought of you dying. 'But we can't do anything for her here. I've got the remote to input the code if they get another one, but until then, we've got to clear from the blast zone.'

'No.' Spencer shook his head vigourously. He couldn't accept this. He wouldn't accept this.

'Spencer,' you tried gently. 'It's okay. I can do the rest alone. I want you to be safe.'

'Well, too bad, because I'm staying.'

You squeezed your eyes shut as tears rushed down your cheeks. 'Damnit, Spencer. Please, just go. Don't make this harder than it already is.'

Spencer took a daring step towards you, the tops of his shoes dangling just over the edge of the pavement. 'I won't abandon you. Not again.'

You were most likely a blubbering mess, your heart hurting so much at the thought that he would get caught up in your mess. 'God, why don't you just leave-'

'Because I love you, (Y/n)!'

The four of you stood dumbfounded as his proclamation echoed through the yard, the house, the street back out the front. Hell, Spencer hoped the whole world heard what he said, because he felt free for the first time in months, weightless, powerful.

And it was all because of you.

'I love you,' he repeated again, softer this time. As the reality of the situation came crashing down on him, tears of his own sprouted in his eyes and ran down his cheeks. He'd finally built up the courage to tell you, and you were minutes away from being blown up.

Through your tears, you find it in yourself to chuckle a little. It's watery and gross-sounding, but Spencer likes it none the less because it's yours, and you haven't lost complete hope. 'Talk about great timing, you big idiot.' And then there it is, that bright smile he saw day one in the office. You wore it with such pride, such strength it pulled at Spencer's heart strings painfully. 'You truly are a wonder, Spencer Reid.'

'One minute,' the bomb squad lady said, her tone frantic now. 'We've got to move! Now!'

'Reid, come on!' Emily cried, backing up with the bomb squad.

'I won't abandon her,' he replied, never taking his eyes off you.

'Reid please!'

Before he could reply, though, his phone buzzed, and he immediately answered the call. 'Please tell me you go it.'

'HOME! The code word is HOME!'

'Punch in HOME!' Reid called out to Emily, keeping Derek on the line as he stared at you. If you were to die, he was gonna make damn sure the last thing you saw wasn't an unfamiliar face.

'Are you sure?'

'We're out of time! Do it!'

'Spence...' you muttered. But you never finished your sentence, as your breath got caught while watching Emily punch in the code into the device. You closed your eyes. Soon you would be in eternal darkness. You would not fear it, but embrace it.

But when nothing happened, you dared to sneak a peek at what was going on. You saw Spencer first, who looked at Emily, who looked at the device in her hands. The deathly silence was finally broken at the sound of a green light on the device switching on. You then heard a hundred tiny clicks somewhere underfoot and felt yourself being pushed up back onto level ground.

Spencer finally looked back to you, eyes blown wide with hope he dared not realise. That same hope fuelled your frozen, tired legs, to take the tiniest of steps forward, and when nothing happened, you took your other foot off the bomb and collapsed forward into Spencer's arms.

His heart pounded faster than the jet that flew them all over the country every week as he cradled you simultaneously gently and tightly. You sobbed into his chest, your arms circling around his back and pulling him as tight as possible.

Oh, how he had missed your touch, your affection, your love, you.

'It's okay, you're okay,' he soothed, patting your hair down with one hand while he cradled you with the other. 'I'm here. We're all here.' He realised suddenly he'd dropped his phone, and so with one hand, he reached down and picked it up, bringing it to his ear. 'She's off.'

He barely heard the cheers of excitement and relief on Derek's end before he was hanging up and helping you to your feet. After that, it was a whirlwind of the bomb squad excavating the bomb, paramedics arriving, and CSU investigating the house.

After giving his statement of events to the local police and finishing speaking to other officials, he found you wrapped in a trauma blanket in the open back of an ambulance.

'How are you feeling?' he said as he approached you.

You broke free of your own world to look at Spencer, and a soft smile managed its way onto your lips. 'Well, I can feel my legs again so that's a start. And you?'

'All the better now that you're not standing on a bomb.'

You chuckled, though a red tinge dusted your cheeks out of embarrassment. 'I must admit, it's true what they say about your life flashing before your eyes the moment before you die.'

'Really? What did you see?' Spencer had read articles about this kind of stuff before, but had never spoken with a person who'd experience it themselves.

You didn't answer straight away, instead standing up to face him fully. Your legs felt like jelly a little but you stood strong. 'I saw you,' you replied easily, as if breathing air. 'Only you.'

Spencer couldn't hold it back, his fear, his relief. It all came bubbling out in an ugly sob as he pulled you into a bone-crushing hug, pressing his face into your hair, using your scent to calm himself. He felt you sobbing too, how your body shook with your own anxieties.

'I missed you,' you said, your words muffled into his chest.

'I know, I'm sorry,' he murmured. 'I missed you, too.' He pulled you back slightly so that he could see your face. He wiped at your tears and forced his best smile just for you. 'But I'm back now. And I'm not going anywhere. That is... if you want me around.'

You heard his silent question, and it made you smile how confident and shy he could be simultaneously.

'Spencer Reid,' you murmured, like what you were about to say next was your biggest secret, 'of course I want you around. I love you.'

He chuckled with relief, tears still pricking at his eyes. But your words sealed your fate, as he used his small amount of confidence to grab the back of your neck gently and pull your lips to his.

You were the sweetest thing he'd ever tasted, and dare he compare you the most addictive drug he could ever hope to get high on. He couldn't get enough of you, and it was such a relief to finally let it out how much he needed you to breathe.

You were equally breathless, simultaneously feeling all consumed by Spencer's love without also having enough of it. Your fingers danced in the soft curls at the nape of his neck, threading yourself into him as much as possible. The truth was, the past four months were torturous.

'I'm not going anywhere.'

As you both finally broke apart, you pressed your foreheads together, nervous giggles of teenagers bubbling up in you both. This was fresh and new, but the love you had for one another had been there all along. No one was going anywhere.

'Finally!'

You and Spencer looked up to see the rest of the team watching from afar, with Emily and JJ smiling giddily, Derek and Rossi trying to suppress laughter, and Hotch having the simplest of grins on his lips.

'Oh, babygirl is going to have a field day when she hears about this,' Derek said, walking up to clap Spencer on the back and give him a hug. 'Well done, man.'

'It's about time,' Rossi said as the rest of the team joined you both. 'I thought I was going to have to take matters into my own hands.'

'Thank God you didn't,' Emily said, both her and JJ giving you a hug. 'As much as this has been traumatic for all of us, I'm so glad it brought you back together.'

'Say that to my poor legs,' you whined, but you hugged them just as tight. Truthfully, you felt the same. And as Reid held you in his arms that night, having refused to let you out of his sight after your brush with death, you couldn't be more grateful for it, too.

~

Your wedding was the next major point in his life that your words had impact.

The past five years leading up to your engagement had been some of the best and challenging in your life. There'd been many more close calls on both your lives since then - kidnappings, hostage situations, deadly viruses, the works. Even some romantic challenges that came in the form of other men and women.

But your bond ran deeper than superficial, petty spiffs. You always found your way back to one another, no matter how dark the road got. It was even on such a dark case that saw both you and Spencer on death row that he asked you. You'd both been captured and locked in a shipping container filled with no gaps for air and no way out. Before that, you'd copped a beating from your capture, forcing Spencer to watch all the while. Truthfully, it hadn't looked good, and that's why Spencer did it.

'What?' you asked deliriously, barely able to see straight no thanks to the lack of oxygen.

'I was planning on asking you... after this case,' Spencer admitted, his face mere centimetres from yours as he held you in a tight hug. He was breathless, running out of air and time it seemed. He had to do it now. 'Had it all planned out... We would go to that place on the hill we go to... a picnic all set out... and just as the sun would set, I'd ask you... and give you this.'

You would've gasped if you'd had enough air to do so, in utter shock to see Spencer pull out a simple gold band with a diamond embedded in it from in his pant pocket.

'I've had this for months... waiting for the... right time,' he managed to get out. 'It's my mothers. When I told her I wanted to marry you... she didn't even hesitate to give it to me.'

You were both weak, but he softly picked your left hand up and looked you dead in the eye. 'This might be it for us, but it also might not. Either way, I want to be yours for whatever time we have left. So, (Y/n) (L/n)... will you marry me?'

The tears that trekked down your face actually cleared your vision enough to see Spencer's smile clearly as you answered, 'Yes. I will marry you.'

Either some higher being was looking out for you that day, or your team was just really good at their job (Spencer never doubted them for a moment), but the team found you both in time, both unconscious and barely breathing, but hand in hand, with yours suddenly bejewelled.

Since then it had been a flurry of work and wedding arrangements and stress over the next seven months. Many speculated you were pregnant and that's why you and Spencer rushed the wedding. The truth was you just didn't want to wait any longer than you had to, not being in your line of work. Any day could be your last, so why waste it.

Spencer messed with the tie of his navy blue suit for the hundredth time as he stood waiting under the arch of flowers in the backyard of Rossi's mansion for you. He wasn't nervous, just... ansty, like he had ants in his pants and wanted to get out of them as soon as possible. But he couldn't deny he was just as excited for this day as you were. All of your friends and family dressed up, no case, no killer, nothing but what dessert they were going to have at the reception to worry about.

'Hey pretty boy,' Derek said, coming up behind him and clapping a hand on his shoulder reassuringly. 'Stop messing with it. You look fine.'

'I know, I just...' Spencer couldn't put into words what he was feeling, not as he stared at his good friend - his best man. Even though Derek had left the BAU, Spencer and him still spoke regularly, and he was more than happy to be there for his best bud at arguably the most important day of his life.

Derek smiled knowingly, straightening Spencer's tie because that's what the best man did for the groom. 'She loves you, Spencer. You've got nothing to worry about.'

'I'm not worried. I just...' He felt the tears already coming on and he hadn't even seen you yet. You were probably even more gorgeous than you already were. God he couldn't wait to marry you.

'I get it, man,' Derek said, and then the piano started playing a soft, whimsical tune that was so you and he stepped back into place. 'Show time, pretty boy.'

Spencer straightened himself up, told himself to hold the tears back. This was not a sad day, but a joyous one. But his breath was stolen the moment the doors of Rossi's mansion opened, after Emily, JJ and Penelope walked through, and you walked out into the backyard on your father's arm.

Your gown was simple, accentuating your body like the goddess you were. Your (h/c) locks were styled to perfection, hidden barely by the thin veil that fell like morning mist over your face. You held your favourite flowers in your hands, the glint of your engagement ring shining as bright as the sun that shone upon the whole ceremony.

By the time you reached him, Spencer was about ready to rip your veil off, kiss the living daylights out of you and runaway. But he resisted, instead waiting patiently for your dad to flip your veil up, and for you to hand over your bouquet to JJ, your maid of honour. When you finally turned to face him, he could've cried. You were so beautiful. And we was marrying you today.

You reached out to him, and he was more than glad to clasp your hands at last.

'Hi,' you whispered, a nervous but excited smile twitching your lips.

'Hi,' he whispered back, the threat of tears burning the back of his eyes again. 'You are gorgeous.'

'Thanks. You look handsome.'

'It's a wonder what a whole eight hours sleep and showering more than once a week can do.'

He was so glad to hear your laugh. It calmed his nerves, and apparently yours calmed too, as your hands no longer shook in his.

'All right, everyone,' Rossi started, stepping up to minister the ceremony. 'Let's get this started.'

The boring, ceremonious stuff went by quickly and soon you were reciting your vows. You'd both wanted to write your own vows for each other - agreeing that the usual script was not enough to express your love for one another, and what you would do to protect that love.

Reid went first.

'(Y/n),' he began, staring you straight in your eyes. He'd written his speech over and over again, but once he found the right words, it only took him a matter of seconds to memorise them. Forever. 'I've always been told I was different. Gifted, special. Being different helped me get this job, this family-' he turned to his friends, who watched them with bright smiles and teary eyes. 'But it also got me in trouble, held me back from experiencing... normal things like friendship, even love. So much so, that I started to believe... I was unworthy of love.'

You squeezed his hands, hearing the stutter in his words, the built up emotion that threatened to consume him. He gratefully squeezed back, grateful to know he was not alone, that he would never be alone from this day forth.

'But from the day I met you, you've shown me that I can be myself and be worthy of love. Theoretically, we shouldn't work. Despite popular opinion, studies have shown that people from different backgrounds, with different interests and completely different personality traits are less likely to feel attracted to one another than people with similar backgrounds, interests and personalities.'

'Come on, Reid. You really want people to sleep through your wedding?' Derek asked, prompting you and the rest of the guests to burst into laughter.

'I have a point,' he countered, and waited for the laughter to die down before resuming his vows. 'And while I usually rely on statistics and facts to make informed decisions about my life, from the day that I met you, you turned my entire world upside, inside out... and I didn't care. Because despite knowing almost everything there is to know about, well, everything, you are the one thing that has and always will make sense to me.'

He saw you trying to hold back tears, so he let go of one of your hands to caress your cheek where some tears rolled down. He swiped them away gently with his thumb without ruining your makeup, the most handsome, beautiful smile you'd ever seen on his lips.

'I love you, (Y/n) (L/n). I have loved you since we first met, at every case, at every movie night, every time you made me coffee. I love how you find the light amidst the darkness, how you give yourself completely to everyone you meet. I love the crinkle in your forehead every time you get mad at me. I love all of you, and I don't have to promise you that I will stay by your side through it all for the rest of our lives. You have had me since day one, and that will never change, even in death. But before that final day comes, I look forward to making the most of what time we have left loving you.'

The guests clapped so loudly that he almost didn't hear your soft sobs. But he did, and he pulled you into a quick hug before you pulled yourself away.

'Oh my goodness, I just want to kiss you,' you admitted quietly to him, bringing laughter out of him. But you quickly pulled your self away, using your free hand to grab an A4-sized piece of paper from JJ and return to face Spencer.

'Unfortunately, I don't have an eidetic memory so I will be using some assistance for this next bit,' you joked, stopping your flow of tears briefly as everyone chuckled, appreciative for the break in overwhelming emotions. Spencer breathed in deeply, steadying his heartbeat as much as possible. His part was done, but he knew this next part would be the hardest to retain composure.

'Spencer,' you began, one hand shakily holding your vows, while the other gripped onto Spencer like your life depended on it. In a sense, after today, it would. 'From the moment I first met you, I knew you were special. That you would leave a mark on my life in one form or another. Some sad part of me sometimes thought it would be when you inevitably shot yourself because you couldn't pass your marksman test after three goes-' Cue Spencer looking to Hotch apologetically while the rest of the guests laughed. '-or because, in our line of work, any day could be our last, and I wouldn't rule out any psychopaths intervening with that. However, despite it all, you're still here, and I couldn't be more thankful that you are. You amaze me everyday, Spencer - with your knowledge of the world, your intellectual insight, how you are almost incapable of growing any substantial amount of facial hair.'

You were glad people were laughing now, because what you were about to say next was going to take all your composure not to fall apart.

'But it is your heart and your ability to connect with people that has captured me completely. Our story has been... unconventional, to put it plainly. We were colleagues first, then friends, then you became my best friend, and I thought I couldn't be happier than that. But maybe it has something to do with some chemicals in the brain that are stimulated when you hang around someone you admire and adore long enough - you know, science stuff - or fate. I don't necessarily believe in either, but I do believe in us, Spencer. I believe that we are two souls choosing to become one for the rest of our lives; I believe you are my person, and the one I choose to face each and everyday with; I believe we haven't overcome all that we have for nothing; and I am not the least bit surprised it took nearly getting blown up to admit how I truly feel about you.'

Spencer couldn't care that what you said about brain chemicals was technically incorrect, it was so you, and there was not a dry eye in the backyard as you looked up at him finally, sheet long forgotten, and (e/c) eyes shining bright with tears and love.

'I love you, Spencer Reid,' you said breathlessly, but loud enough for everyone to hear. 'You have experienced the worst of humanity over and over again, and yet here you stand with me, smiling, happy, choosing to believe in happy endings. You are a wonder - my wonder - and I can't wait to spend everyday from now loving you, and being wowed by you. From now... until I cannot breathe, and even then beyond.'

You gave the paper back to JJ, then returned your full attention to Spencer. It was like it was only you two, the clapping from your guests dulled as well as Rossi's final words. But Spencer didn't miss a beat when he heard him say, 'By the power vested in me and my online-approved minister credentials, I pronounce you husband and wife. Go on kids, you've earned it.'

Spencer swooped you into the sweetest, loving kiss he could muster, gently cradling your neck and cheeks as your lips met in a soft collision. It wasn't lustful (that would certainly come later), but it was consuming, like two forces being pulled together by a magnet. You were separate entities choosing to become one, and it made you smile through your kiss and for the rest of the afternoon and well into the evening.

You both partied with your family and friends, but you always managed to find your way back to one another despite the chaos. He now cradled you gently as you swayed together on the dance floor, fatigue settling in. You held each other up as you did, content to just be with each other in the final moments of your special day. Emily, your new section chief, had ordered you both take two weeks off to celebrate your honey moon. Because God knew when the next time you'd be able to relax would be when you both came back to work.

You shifted in his arms, manoeuvring yourself to look up at him, a delirious, tired and happy smile adorning your pretty lips. 'I love you, Spencer Reid.'

He leaned in for a brief but loving kiss before saying, 'I love you, (Y/n) Reid.'

Something about how his last named paired with your first name sounded that warmed him inside. The same feeling lit up in your eyes, but maybe that was just the happy tears that formed there, too.

'We're the Reids now,' you whispered in disbelief, probably due to the amount of alcohol you had consumed throughout the day. 'You're my husband!'

'Yes I am,' he murmured, pulling you back to his chest to lay your head. 'Forever and always.'

~

The last time he heard you say those special words was the day you said goodbye.

It wasn't until you fell pregnant with your first child that you found a proper house to live in. You'd been content with the studio apartment you'd found and moved into one year into your relationship, but when you fell pregnant, Spencer knew you would need a bigger space. One that you could call your own and make a home out of.

Your forever home.

Surprisingly, it hadn't taken long to find something: a nice rustic, two-storey house on the outskirts of DC. It was in a nice neighbourhood , far enough out of the city to be quiet, but close enough you could both get to work quick enough in case of an emergency. The moment you'd laid eyes on it, you fell in love with it, and Spencer knew without question this would be where you brought your family up.

He traipsed through the house with two cups of tea. Coffee had started to disagree with him after he quit the BAU, as if that were the only place he needed it. Teaching and guest lecturing at all the local universities was nowhere near the stress level of the BAU, and so he'd switched to tea. Somehow, in his (as he called it) pre-retirement, it tasted sweeter.

You had stepped down from being a profiler at the BAU after your third child was born, realising that with a four and two year old waiting outside the birth suite to meet their baby brother, you couldn't risk leaving your three babies without a mother. And while leaving the BAU, your home of close to twenty years, wrought a grief out of you that was close to unbearable, you knew it was the right decision and right time.

And you soon found a love for writing - fiction, non-fiction, poetry, it didn't matter. What you'd experienced in your career as a profiler had changed you, and sometimes writing it out made it less haunting, it gave you closure. You went on book tours, consulted on scholarly and literary journals, you even were brought into Spencer's classrooms to guest lecture from time to time.

All the while building and loving the family both of you had always dreamed of.

Spencer smiled at the dusty pictures that lined the walls, of the faces of his children and grandchildren smiling back him. Of the faces of friends old and new, of ghosts he used to know from a time long gone. Sometimes he hardly recognised himself in those pictures. He wasn't the vain type, but when he looked at himself in his 20's and 30's, he couldn't help the yearning that pulled at his heart when he did.

He compared those youthful pictures against his present day, laughing at the barely existent grey stubble he now sported, of the white hair that curled and stood up in any and all directions, of the glasses he now permanently had to wear. You always said he looked sexier with glasses, anyways, so he didn't mind.

Those pictures were his memory, his legacy, his life. When he felt his brain burning, when his memory became a bit too fuzzy, he could always look at the pictures and find solace in how those moments would live on in the people he loved.

'Spence?'

Your voice prompted him to keep moving, to let go of the past and remain in the present. He wandered through the rest of the house to the backyard, where two garden chairs sat either side of a coffee table, looking over the yard. The gardens were filled with flowers of all shapes and colours. He wasn't a nature guy by any means, but Spencer wanted you to have something to look after other than him or the children, something you could be proud of when you were much older. So he'd planted it himself (okay, he needed help from Derek), filling it with flowers that expressed all the wonderful qualities he loved about you.

There was a small gardening shed in the back, a quaint barbecue/entertainment area to one side, and a build-your-own playground just sitting on the lawn. He found you sitting comfortably in one of the chairs, staring out at the yard contently. He placed both cups of tea on the table before taking his own seat in the other chair.

'Do you remember how Jason used to carry Diana on his back up the slide?' you asked gently, a fond smile cracking your dry lips at the memory of your children playing on the very same playground their children now played on when they visited. 'You always got so scared they would fall and hurt themselves.'

'Isn't that our job?' he asked, taking a sip of his tea. 'To worry for our children?'

'You didn't have to be a helicopter parent, though,' you jibed playfully. 'You got better when Aaron was old enough to climb himself, so I can't berate you for that.'

'Speaking of which, Aaron just called, said him, Rachel and the kids want to invites us to dinner on Friday.'

You turned and smiled at him, but he saw how tired you were. It was in the slight droop in your lips when you smiled, it was in the slouch of your shoulders, it was the way you held out your hand for him to grasp and you could barely squeeze him back. You'd been like this for days, and it broke Spencer's heart to see the love of his life slowly fade away right beside him. He knew it was a natural way of life - considering their previous occupations, he was grateful to be even given the chance to grow old with you.

But despite natural law and despite his many blessings, it didn't dull the ache that grew more painful everyday.

'You don't have to be here, Spence,' you said, voice barely above a whisper, like it was just a secret only you two shared. 'You've seen enough death already.'

Spencer placed his cup on the table before getting out of his chair (a feat he struggled withe everyday now, his BAU days finally catching up to him) and walking around to your side, bringing both his hands to clasp yours as he knelt beside you.

'I'm not going anywhere,' he said, willing every ounce of sincerity and love into his words, into his hands as he held your frail ones. 'Forever and always, remember?'

Spencer almost broke down when your eyes locked with his, those shining (e/c) orbs sparkling with life and mischief and wonder. Despite what time had done to you, you were still his (Y/n), his best friend, his partner, his lover and saviour.

You nodded as if to say yes, I do remember. I always will. You pull one hand free of his grip, and use it to cradle his wrinkled cheeks. 'We've lived a good life, haven't we, Spence?'

He pulled one hand away to caress your hand on his cheek, holding it there for as long as he could. 'Yes. Yes we have.'

Your eyes scanned over him, suddenly seeing your life in rewind.

You saw him as he was now, white, Einstein hair, wrinkled skin and glasses. Then with only little streaks of white in his hair, more sleek. That's how he was with the kids. You kept going back, to your wedding, to your engagement, to the first time you kissed. Every movie night, every case, every late night in the office. Until you were seeing him as if for the first time. Kind of dorky, kind of sweet, wide-eyed and bushy-tailed to explain to you how his "physics magic" worked that very first day in the office.

It was like he was seeing you for the first time as well, as you smiled your bright smile like you did on that first day. The smile you had smiled for him every day since. The smile he saw in your children, and then your grandchildren.

'You are a true wonder, Spence,' you whispered softly, using what little strength you had left to squeeze the hand that still clasped yours as if to say thank you. 'My wonder.'

He waited for the lump in his throat to form, for the words to get stuck in his throat like they always did before. But the lump never formed, and so the words flowed like water out of him, finally feeling right.

'And you are mine,' he whispered back, smiling as bright as he could for you as he held you. 'You always have been my wonder.'

You bring his lips to yours one last time before dropping your hand from his face and sitting back in your seat, looking more tired than you'd ever been. But your other hand still held his, and he certainly wasn't going to let you go. Not yet.

'Spence,' you wheezed, eyes struggling to stay open on him.

Spencer pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead, using his now free hand to stroke your grey hair in soothing motions. 'It's okay. You can rest now. I'll join you soon enough.'

The slight dip of your chin let him know you understood, and soon after you closed your eyes, your hand grew slack in his hold and your chest ceased rising.

You were gone.

And he was still here.

It was only then did Spencer allow the tears to fall, to acknowledge that despite both of your acceptances, he was sad. You'd lived good, long lives, and even then Spencer believed it was not enough time to love all of you. He knew it was selfish, but he figured after all he'd been through he would be allowed this one wish.

He held you for another hour before he called your children to notify them of your passing.

He held on for another year before he joined you. Cause of death: a broken heart.

He was buried beside you in the family lot, and on your joint headstone, it wrote:

Here lies Dr. Spencer Reid and Mrs. (Y/n) Reid. Loving Husband and Wife and Parents. "You truly are a wonder."

My Wonder (Spencer Reid x Reader) - The Meeting

My Wonder (Spencer Reid x Reader) - The Meeting Word Count: 1380 Reader insert: she/her pronouns. She is not American unless you are, just has a previous history in American law enforcement Warnings: none Spoilers: none

All his life, Dr. Spencer Reid has been told he is a genius - gifted, different. When you, a new member of the BAU, arrive, he expects the same weirded-out reaction from you as everyone does. But when you don't, and you instead find him interesting, Spencer finds himself forming an attachment to you. And as the years go on, is it really any wonder that he falls for you?

This is one of the six times you secretly say I love you to Spencer: your meeting.

Full story | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6

Spencer Reid was performing some of his physics magic for his colleagues when he first saw you.

He'd just mixed up the some water with an antacid tablet and placed within a film canister. He'd done it a hundred times on his own, but he'd only just joined the BAU two months ago, and JJ and Derek hadn't seen it before so he just had to do it. Quickly placing the lid on, he said, 'You can turn around now.'

'I don't understand why we had to in the first place,' Derek said as he grumpily turned around.

'A magician never tells his secrets,' Spencer said, rubbing his hands gleefully. To him, showing off his intellect never got boring. 

Well, show off wasn't the proper term. He understood that he could be a lot for some people, knowing so much for a man in his early twenties that looked barely old enough to be out of school, let alone with three Bachelors and PHDs under his belt already. Spouting little known facts or remembering minute details about cases that went back thirty to forty years was just his way of expressing himself. It was his way of contributing to the team. And while his team was getting used to his ramblings and intellect, even demonstrated admiration for it, others would call him a freak.

'If you ask me,' JJ said, 'I wouldn't want to know how he does some things.'

'Fair,' Derek replied, all their eyes on the film canister.

Spencer watched it in anticipation, how the bubbles slipped out between the lid and the canister slowly at first, then started bubbling faster and bigger and-

POP!

The canister rocketed up towards the roof, and all three of them watched with wide eyes as it arced over the bullpen and then down to meet the-

'Ow!'

Spencer ducked into his chair as he watched a young lady in a loose button up shirt, dress pants and boots pat her head. He heard JJ and Derek scurry away, but Spencer remained staring at the woman. Who is she? he thought, his eyes scanning over her.

Your (h/c) hair caught the sunlight, giving it a glow that had Spencer mesmerised. Your (s/c) skin shone with it, making your (e/c) eyes stand out most beautifully. And when you stood back up and made eye contact with him, canister in hand, he found himself frozen, unable to avoid the conclusion that he was the culprit.

'What is this, Reid?' Hotch said, walking up to his desk not looking the least bit impressed. 'Actually, don't answer that. Just don't do it again.'

'Sorry,' Spencer murmured out, a guilty smile stretching his lips slightly.

Hotch blew out a sigh. 'Never mind that now. I would like to introduce you to our new team member. Agent (Y/n) (L/n), a transfer from LA.'

Spencer finally realised that you had walked up with Hotch, and now that you were so close (literally standing a desk apart from one another), he was lost for words at how bright your smile was, and how beautiful you looked that way. 

'So you're the one that thought my head was a good landing place for your little... rocket,' you said offering the film canister back, laughter dancing in your words. 

It took Spencer a moment for him to realise you wanted him to take the canister back, so he scrambled to his feet, fingers fumbling for the canister. 'No, I-I was just showing how a-an antacid reacts with water, and how, put into a small, confined place, that can cause a chemical, gas-like reaction and cause it to exploded.'

'And launch it like a rocket?' you asked.

He paused as he watched your smile slip a little. Oh no. He'd done it again - made someone feel dumber than him. And while technically that was true, he never meant to make anyone feel like that. 

'Y-Yeah?' he answered, awkwardness rising up in his throat, freezing his limbs, his brain.

But then suddenly your smile returned, melting his fear and doubt as you said, 'Cool! I've always loved chemistry. I actually did a Bachelor of Science with a major in archaeological science and a minor in chemistry before I started my BA in Criminology.'

'And now you're here,' he said, a soft smile of his own tugging at his lips. 

You nodded, looking around what would now be your new home. 'And now I'm here.'

'Fascinating,' Spencer breathed out. He didn't mean to, but it made you smile more so he didn't mind. It suddenly occurred to him that he hadn't introduced himself. He struck out his arm, rigid as a board, and offered his hand. 'Sorry, I'm Dr. Spencer Reid.'

'Pleasure to meet you, doctor,' you said, taking his hand and shaking it firmly. You skin was as soft as it looked, Spencer noted. 'I very much look forward to working with you and the rest of the team as we go forward.'

'We've got a briefing in five minutes, Reid,' Hotch interrupted, moving to step away from the conversation. 'I'll introduce you to the rest of the team then, (L/n). And if I find you firing another film canister through the sky, Reid-'

'Yes, yes, sorry, no more rockets. Airspace Reid is officially grounded,' Spencer quickly replied, not wanting to get lectured like a twelve-year-old like he usually did.

Your tinkling laughter drew his attention back to you, and he was baffled by the wonderment dancing in your eyes as you looked at him. 'You are a wonder, Dr. Spencer Reid.'

'T-Thanks?' he replied, although he wasn't quite sure if you were making fun of him or not. Most people did if they didn't straight up tell him he was annoying.

Hotch walked away, but you remained for a moment, leaning in close to whisper, 'That's a good thing, by the way.'

'Oh. Right.' 

You flashed him one last smile before following your new unit chief, falling back into easy conversation with him as you gracefully floated through the chaotic goings of the office. Spencer couldn't take his eyes off you as you did, in awe of your grace and poise, and how you didn't even stumble when you spoke with him. You were genuine, upfront and honest. You couldn't be much older than himself, he noted, perhaps even younger. He was used to being the baby of the team, but it looked like that would be changing.

The prospect of being able to connect with someone his own age sent an unfamiliar but not unwelcome flutter through his heart.

'Oh, you've got it bad.'

Spencer spun in his chair to see JJ and Derek standing behind him once more, watching him with knowing grins. 

'What? What have I got?' he asked. 'I'm not sick... I don't think.'

JJ rolled her eyes and giggled as she walked away, Spencer just catching a quiet, 'This'll be fun,' as she did. But Derek walked closer, placing a firm hand on his shoulder, and that knowing grin stretched wider, more feline and cheeky. 

'Don't worry, pretty boy,' he said. 'You'll figure it out soon. You're smart, right?'

'Well, smart isn't really the quite term for someone with an eidetic memory and an IQ of 187-'

'And pep talk is over,' Derek interrupted, abruptly walking away back to his desk and leaving Spencer in a disarray of emotions.

So he looked back to where you had gone, and found you speaking with Penelope, nodding enthusiastically to whatever she was talking to you about. But you weren't just being polite, you appeared genuinely interested in the conversation, even though Spencer noted you barely contributed to it. 

'You are a wonder, Dr. Spencer Reid.'

All his life, Spencer had been told he was a genius - gifted, different. It had just become an effortless part of who he is. It was almost expected at this point to see weirded-out or overly-amazed expressions from people he didn't know. So why then, when you said that to him, did he feel happy about it?

He checked his watch. Almost briefing time. He got up from his seat and made his way to the briefing room where only a place beside you was available. Maybe he would find out soon enough.

My Wonder (Spencer Reid x Reader) - The Connection

My Wonder (Spencer Reid x Reader) - The Connection Word Count: 2494 Reader insert: she/her pronouns. She is not American unless you are, just has a history in American law enforcement Warnings: drug addiction, self-depracation, crying, minor fluff if you squint. Spoilers: none

All his life, Dr. Spencer Reid has been told he is a genius - gifted, different. When you, a new member of the BAU, arrive, he expects the same weirded-out reaction from you as everyone does. But when you don't, and you instead find him interesting, Spencer finds himself forming an attachment to you. And as the years go on, is it really any wonder that he falls for you?

This is one of the six times you secretly say I love you to Spencer: your first real connection.

Full story | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4  | Part 5 | Part 6

It became a casual thing, for you to comment on how wonderful Dr. Spencer Reid was. Every day in the office, whenever you travelled to cases, even out in the field, sometimes in not-so-great situations. 

It was only ever once, but you always managed to find something to say, 'You are a wonder, Dr Reid,' to him. Sometimes it was his full name, sometimes just doctor. Sometimes, he was just Spencer. Apart from JJ, you were the only one who ever really called him by his first name. Oddly enough for him, he liked it when he was just Spencer, not the Boy Genius or freak or computer.

But the next time you told him that and it meant something to him was ten months after he ended his drug addiction.

He sat at his desk in the bullpen finishing some paperwork, or at least attempting to. They'd just gotten back from a long and exhausting case and his brain (the very thing he knew he could always rely on) refused to coordinate with his hands and eyes. The information he wished to write out felt jammed at his fingers tips, appeared blurry in his vision.

'Gosh,' he breathed out, leaning back in his seat defeated as he rubbed at his tired eyes. No doubt black bags sagged beneath them. 

It had been a long, exhausting case. The team had gone to Dallas to find a serial killer who'd been leaving a trail of dead doctors and pharmacists over the span of months which had suddenly turned into weeks, then days once his team joined the case. 

The unsub had spiralled, devolved so to say, alluding to a psychotic break. But when they'd found him, he was not the malicious, sadistic person they'd first expected. Spencer was the first on the scene and had instead found a young man in his early twenties, not much younger than himself. All he'd wanted was some off-market narcotic that took away the pain from the physical abuse he received from his father.

And while Spencer's trauma was not the same, he couldn't help but see the parallels. When he'd looked the young man in the eyes, it was like looking into a mirror. All he saw was himself, drowning in his own trauma, his own fear, his own pain. 

Spencer scoped the bullpen, suddenly noticing the silence. Not a single person was left. He then looked at his watch - half past ten. He hadn't noticed people leaving whatsoever. Not surprising considering his current state, his current condition.

Spencer slowly reached down to the bottom drawer of his desk, a sudden urge coursing through him to do so. Slowly again, almost hesitantly, he pulled it open and leafed through the many spare manilla folders that sat oddly in there until he reached the bottom.

It was just one vial, but just the mere sight of it sent relief rushing through Spencer. Dilaudid. He gently cradled it up to his eyes, admiring how the glass doors of the entrance became obscured as he looked through the transparent but murky liquid. After this case, what he wouldn't give to have a needle right now. Just one hit-

'Well, if it isn't Dr. Spencer Reid burning the midnight oil.'

Spencer almost dropped the vial as he scrambled to shove it deep into his pant pocket just as you appeared out of nowhere from the conference room.

'Sorry,' you said, an apologetic smile already on your lips. 'I didn't mean to startle you.'

'It's okay,' he replied as casually as possible. It was one thing to nearly be caught out by your colleague that you had an illegal narcotic you used to have an addiction for in your hand, but another when that colleague is one you've admired since the day you met. 'I was lost in thought, anyways.'

'Well just as well then. I can only imagine how depthless your brain must go with all that knowledge crammed in there.' You walked down the stairs to the floor of the bullpen and walked to him. You were still in your clothes from the past twenty-four hours, and your light makeup looked like it was lifting off your face like a second skin. Even your unrelenting smile seemed to sag with exhaustion.

Spencer straightened up in his seat, suddenly concerned. 'You okay, (Y/N)? You look-'

'Like trash?' you finished as you pulled up a chair of your own and sat in front of him. 'I have no doubt.'

Spencer looked behind her back into the conference room, his eyebrows furrowing when he spotted stacks of folders and loose paperwork spread across the table. 'That all yours?'

You looked back to the mess of words and paper you'd just escaped and sighed dramatically. 'Oh, yeah. Seems like the longer the case, the more paperwork you have to do. Poor trees.'

'Yeah...' Spencer found it odd how much paperwork you had to get through. Even he didn't have that much to get through. But before he could question you about it, your soft voice filled the damning void that surrounded him.

'How are you feeling, you know, after this case?'

'What do you mean?' he asked.

'Don't give me that,' you say, your smile now replaced by a seriousness Spencer only saw on you when you were making an arrest or in really dire situations. You've worked together for almost three years now, he knew all the faces you pulled, all of your likes and dislikes, how you liked your coffee only after you've completed one task for the day to prove you can survive without it but choose not to. 

He knows you, so it should not be surprising that you know him just as well.

'The moment we found out the unsub's objective, you've been a little... off.'

'Well, it shouldn't be surprising considering that was me just ten months ago,' he said matter-of-factly, pulling back into his shell, putting up his guard. 'I mean, if Hotch hadn't have found out about it, that could've been me-'

'No it wouldn't have.'

Spencer scoffed, but not in a demeaning manner. He just didn't believe you for a moment because he could see the facts, the statistics, in his head. 'Over 45% percent of addicts relapse at least twice. This is without the intervention or support by health care clinics and families and friends, and this case just proved that. So, yes, it could've been-'

'But it wasn't,' you intervened again, your voice echoing like soft thunder through the empty office. It gave you presence, forcing Spencer to look at you, like really look at you, and face what you were about to say.

'You had help and support from people that care about you, Spence,' you continued, sitting forward in your seat. 'And I don't care about the statistics, you're not one of them. You're your own person and you can determine where you add value in life, not by some... statistically-informed percentage prediction... thing.'

That drew a laugh out him, the quiet but sudden sound surprising him slightly. 'Stastically-informed percentage prediction, huh?'

'Shut up,' you grumbled and playfully punched his shoulder. When you both calmed down, you continued. 'When I realised who we were looking for, for a moment I kind of got scared.'

Spencer raised a quizzical eyebrow 'Scared?'

You nodded. 'The truth is that... when you were kidnapped and... you had to endure all that pain alone... I was terrified. We all were. Even when we found you, I was terrified. Because I knew you would never be the same, and not that it's your problem, but I knew in that moment that I would never forgive myself for not finding you sooner. For not going with you and JJ to the farm.'

Tears welled up in your eyes and Spencer immediately leant forward. To do what, he didn't know, he just needed you to know he was there for you, like you always were for him.

'I'm sorry,' you mutter, blinking the tears away before they could fall. 'Your trauma is not my own. I have no right to express my guilt.'

'There's nothing to feel guilty for,' he said, reaching out slowly with his hands, the ones that slightly shook as he laid them on your own. 

To his relief, you smiled. It wasn't full, but it was there. 'You're a horrible liar, Spencer Reid.' That brought some laughter out of you both, lightening the suffocating air of the office. 

'But even when we found out about you and the dilaudid,' you continued, pulling yourself together, if only to let Spencer know your true thoughts. 'I wasn't even mad.'

A large lump formed in Spencer's throat, and he had a hard time swallowing it along with the threat of tears that burned behind his amber eyes. 'You... You weren't?' 

It was the mixture of surprise and hope that pulled at your heart, that made you feel obligated to keep speaking. 'Why should I have been? I was not the one who was tortured mentally and physically by a split-personality murderer; and who also witnesses the darkest, most ugliest aspects of humanity every single day of his life. It was not my place to judge how you hold onto your own humanity.'

Your eyes until then had never left his, but they flickered downwards then, and Spencer froze at where your gaze landed. 

It only lasted a moment before your eyes returned to his, and it startled him the lack of sympathy he finds there, but instead warmth. 'It is still not my place to judge,' you said, twisting your hands so they could clasp his fully. 'All I know is that... you are stronger than you give yourself credit for. So much stronger than me, JJ, Pen, Emily - heck, I'd say you're even stronger than Derek. But not Hotch, Gideon, and Rossi, though. Then again, no one is.'

You both chuckled at that, and all the tension in his body seemed to dissipate at the sound. So light and airy, it was what he imagined heaven sounded like. 

'The point is,' you continued, giving his hands a squeeze, 'you are a wonder, Spencer Reid. We all see it. You've just got to now see it, too.'

Spencer stared at you, dumbfounded and conflicted within himself. He felt like he wanted to cry and laugh at the same time. And a great urge to suddenly engulf you in a hug started itching his limbs, which was weird because he didn't care much physical affection, or affection in general. But before he could decide what he wanted to do, you decided for him.

You gave his hands one last squeeze before letting go and standing up. The absence of your touch left him cold as he followed you as you went back into the conference room to pack up. Surprisingly it didn't take you long until you came back out, your coat and bag in hand.

'Don't stay up too long, now,' you said as you passed him by, your smile so radiant it was almost as if you weren't crying just a few minutes before. 'We've got a long day ahead.'

As soon as the elevator door closed on you, he pulled out the vial of dilaudid and stared it down. It was like it was taunting him, sitting idly, innocently, in his palm, as if it knew he desperately wanted it, needed it.

'...you are stronger than you give yourself credit for... you are a wonder, Spencer Reid. We all see it. You've just got to now see it, too.'

For some reason, though, he suddenly didn't need it. The fire, the urge, the want and reliance for it - he was suddenly weightless with clarity, if only for a moment.

Spencer chucked the vial in the dumpster outside the office when he left. It was hard, but he did it. He knew he wasn't cured, that there was still a long road ahead. But it was a start.

The next day when he came into the office, Derek was the first to comment on his haggard appearance.

'Seriously man,' he said, trailing Spencer out of the break room, 'you look like a ghoul. Did you sleep at all last night.'

'I was here late last night doing paperwork,' he explained, sitting himself and his coffee down at his desk. 'You should go see (y/n), she probably looks a little worse for wear herself from staying late last night, too.'

'Oh, she stayed late too, did she?'

'It's not like that,' Spencer insisted, swatting at Derek pathetically. 'She had a mountain of paperwork to finish of her own.'

'Y/N?' Emily said as she walked by with JJ, identical coffees in their hands. 'She finished her paperwork at about the same time I did.'

'Yeah, we were walking out together before she turned back into the office. Said she had to talk with Hotch,' JJ said.

'I remember that,' Spencer added. 'You guys said goodnight to me on your way out.' Not that he had responded, he suddenly recalled, a pang of guilt punching his gut.

'Who had to talk with me?' The man himself suddenly walked by, stopping at the congregated group upon hearing his name.

'Y/n,' Emily answered. 'Last night.'

'Oh, yes. She, uh, asked if there was anymore paperwork to do.'

'Why would she do that when she was done?' JJ asked. 

'I don't know,' Hotch said, making his way towards his office, 'but who am I to turn away someone who wants to do paperwork for free? Now, briefing in ten minutes.'

As the others dispersed back to their desks, Spencer didn't know how to feel about this new information. It didn't help the matter when you finally dragged yourself into the office, dark circles peaking out from under your thin layer of foundation. But as you sat at your desk, eyes drooping as you logged onto your laptop, he knew just what to do.

It took you a second to register the cup of coffee being held in front of your dazed eyes, and another to realise who was holding it.

'Late night?' Spencer asked, a coy smile on his lips.

Despite your exhaustion, you managed to grab the cup without spilling any of the precious caffeine that would help you through the day. 'Yeah,' you decided to play dumb, answering as enthusiastically as possible. 'Paperwork, you know. Never-ending.'

Spencer hummed, contemplating his next words carefully. 'Well, I hope giving up your sleep was worth it, then.'

'I'd like to think it was.'

The way you didn't hesitate to answer struck a chord of truth in him that left him dumbfounded once more. Twice in under twenty-four hours? That had to be a new record for him.

But instead of freezing up, he managed an honest smile as he clanked his coffee cup with your own. 'Well... it is certainly most appreciated.'

My Wonder (Spencer Reid x Reader) - The Catalyst

My Wonder (Spencer Reid x Reader) - The Catalyst Word Count: 2823 Reader insert: she/her pronouns. She is not American unless you are, just has a previous history in American law enforcement. Warnings: slow-burn romance, mention of crime scene and interrogation, and some more solid fluff Spoilers: none

All his life, Dr. Spencer Reid has been told he is a genius - gifted, different. When you, a new member of the BAU, arrive, he expects the same weirded-out reaction from you as everyone does. But when you don't, and you instead find him interesting, Spencer finds himself forming an attachment to you. And as the years go on, is it really any wonder that he falls for you?

This is one of six times you secretly say I love you to Spencer: the catalyst of newfound feelings.

Full story | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5  | Part 6

The next time you dumbfounded him, he almost kissed you.

Ever since you had joined the BAU, you and Spencer had alway had a sweet partnership. But after that night in the office, you had become inseparable. Best friends, to put simply. You stayed late at the office to keep each other company, brought each other coffee and treats, spent free days checking out the new films playing in the cinema.

You had inside jokes, and fought like an old, married couple - a fact the team loved to bring up whenever possible. But you liked it like that. Spencer was your person, and you were his.

And as much as he wowed you everyday, you managed to surprise him on occasions, too.

You were both paired up to interrogate a suspect. You personally didn't believe she was the killer, but Spencer didn't like to base anything from solely his gut. In other words, he was skeptical.

'I didn't kill those women,' your suspect said. 'And even if wanted to kill them, it would be for something more worthwhile than a stupid role.'

'Jealously isn't as far-fetched a reason to kill as you may believe,' Spencer stated to her. 'Particularly in women, the feeling of being threatened or in danger of losing something important to them brings out almost a maternal instinct to protect what they believe to be is theirs.'

'You think all actresses are that low? That shallow?' The young woman was pretty, but her face scrunched up in an ugly manner at the insinuation.

'He doesn't think that at all,' you interjected. 'In fact, he quite likes actresses, don't you buddy?'

Spencer gave you a side eye to which you smiled sickly-sweetly at in return. You were never going to let the Lila fling down any time soon.

You looked back at the young woman, your face returning to empathetic, concerned. She had a wall up, she was wearing a mask. If you wanted answers out of her, you needed to connect with her.

You leaned forward on the table, positioning yourself in front of Spencer so all her focus was on you.

'Anna,' you said softly, like you were speaking to a friend. 'I know you didn't do it. You're different than all those other girls right? You've worked hard to get where you are. Small town girl wanting to make a name for herself in an industry that can be ruthless and heartless as the killer that's still out there. You are classically trained, by-the-book, no shortcuts. I bet you started on the stage of your elementary school, landing the lead role.'

The young woman looked at you with skepticism for a moment, then you saw a crack in her mask as she nodded. 'I was Mary in the Christmas production. But it wasn't until high school when we preformed Shakespeare's The Tempest that I knew this was what I wanted to do with my life.'

Spencer noticed your smile now, how it lifted in a manner that sung of melancholy and fondness.

'"We are such stuff as dreams are made on.",' you said whimsically, and Spencer noted a familiarity that had the words rolling off your tongue with ease. Like it was muscle memory.

'Such a beautiful line, right?' the young woman asked.

'Yes, but, when translated into our modern English, it is quite sad really.' You make eye contact with the young woman and hoped she saw the understanding and slight desperation in your eyes. 'It means that life is an illusion, and a fleeting one at that. I don't necessarily believe in the first part of that, but it is true that life is fleeting. So before you end up the next aspiring actress in our morgue, you've got to tell us everything you know.'

The rest of the interrogation went smoothly. Honestly, it was the easiest one Spencer had ever sat in before. And all the while he had just sat there in awe of you.

'I didn't know you read Shakespeare,' he said randomly as they drove together in a local police SUV to meet with the rest of the team at the new suspect's house.

You scoffed. 'See that's the biggest misconception of Shakespeare. That it can only be read. In fact, it actually shouldn't be just read. It needs to be performed.'

Amusement danced upon Spencer's lips. 'Are you saying you were in a Shakespearean play? Which one? Actually, let me guess. Romeo and Juliet.'

'That's a cliche.'

'Twelfth Night? How about Taming of the Shrew?'

'Why do you want to know so badly?'

'Because I...' It suddenly occurred to him that he didn't quite know why he wanted to know. Only that he knows everything and you were his best friend and he didn't know something about you.

You spared him a sympathetic smile from the driver's seat before returning your eyes to the road. 'If you must know... it was actually The Tempest. It was my high school's production, too. And as much as he irritates me, I grew fascinated with Shakespeare's work after that. It even prompted me to do a unit or two in Shakespearean literature and performance during my uni days.'

You allowed yourself to slip back in time a little to those days, that melancholy and fondness finding its way back into your smile, Spencer noticed.

'Outside of Shakespeare though, I'll admit... I was a theatre kid.'

'No way!' Spencer exclaimed. 'You?'

'Why is it so unbelievable that I used to dress up and spout lines that no one really understood?' you asked, but you weren't offended. Simply amused that you seemed to have stunned the (until now) un-stunnable Dr. Spencer Reid.

'Because... it's just so left of field from anyone else in the team.'

'And is that a bad thing?'

'...not at all,' he said after a moment, and then proceeded to drop the matter entirely. Spencer Reid never forgets anything, he couldn't forget, not with his eidetic memory. But he made extra special care to file that little fact about you away for now.

A few days after returning home from wrapping that case up, you came into work to find your coffee already made on your desk, and beside it was an envelope. Curious, you swiftly opened the envelope and gasped with pure surprise at what you found.

'I thought you might like them,' Spencer said as he approached you, his own coffee in hand. 'The ticket vendor said they were the best seats in the house.'

'Oh my God, Spencer!' You couldn't help yourself, you leapt onto the gangly man like a frog and held him tighter than you'd ever hugged someone before, avoiding spilling Spencer's coffee. You were so excited you even smacked a fat, grateful kiss on his unsuspecting cheek before letting him go. 'Tickets to ASC's production of The Tempest?! How did you even get these, I was told they were all gone.'

'Believe it or not, I have connections everywhere,' Spencer answered a bit too vaguely but you didn't care. 'Even in areas that aren't of my particular expertise. I figured you and a friend could go enjoy it before it finishes up.'

'You mean you're not coming?'

Spencer tried not to read into it too much, but he swore he heard a little hiccup in your question, like you were upset. 'W-Well, I, I, uh, didn't want to assume anything. I mean, y-you might want to take JJ, or Emily-

'Spencer.' It was ridiculous how easy he listened when you said his name, how he dropped everything to listen to what you had to say whenever you did. And his heart faltered when he made eye contact with you and saw joy and hope lighting up your eyes. 'Would you like to come to the show with me?'

And it wasn't any wonder, then, that he replied without hesitation, 'Y-Yeah! All right, s-sure. Would love to.'

'Amazing!' Spencer once again had to juggle his coffee and you as you squeezed all the air out of him in another bone-crushing hug. 'Spencer Reid, you have just made my day.'

It was a week later and the night of the performance. You drove yourself and Spencer two and a half hours straight from Quantico down to Staunton to the American Shakespeare Centre, reciting and recalling your favourite Shakespearean moments the whole trip.

Spencer made the extreme effort to look presentable, pulling out a nice suit set, even replacing his usual casual sneakers with some shiny boots. His hair was slicked back out of his face, with only the slightest stubble on his chin and upper lip.

When you picked him up, you said he looked handsome. He never cared much for his appearance, but that comment warmed his heart slightly, made him sit more upright in his seat.

Once you pulled up and got out of the car, he finally saw you in all your glory. A navy blue dress clung to your frame beautifully; kitten heels cradled your feet as you walked up the stairs to the theatre's entrance; your jewellery brought out the (e/c) in your eyes, even further accentuated by your simple makeup and hair.

Spencer has met Nobel price winners, attorney generals, even spoken with the most psychotic people humanity has to offer. And yet there you stood - ethereal, angelic, striking him silent with just your presence.

'You coming, Boy Wonder?'

You'd reached the top the stairs without him moving a muscle. Embarrassed, he tried to cover it up with a cough as he scrambled to catch up with you. 'Boy Wonder? Where did that come from?'

You shrugged playfully as you hooked your arm through his. 'Just seemed appropriate.'

'I'm twenty-seven, (y/n). I'm hardly a boy.'

'Oh, so would you prefer I call you Batman?'

Spencer raised a quizzical eyebrow. 'I didn't know you liked DC comics.'

'There's a lot you still don't know about me, Spencer Reid,' you answered, handing over your tickets to the ticket vendor at the door. 'Like how I've always preferred Robin over Batman, anyway.'

You quickly found your seats, and Spencer tried not to acknowledge how tight-knit the seats were pressed together. His thigh pressed lightly against your own, and he couldn't tell if he hated or liked the feeling that suddenly sprouted in his gut.

It distracted him so much that instead of watching the performance, he looked at you. How you reacted to each sonnet, to the entrance of new characters, to the costuming and the music and emotion that filled the room with every word spoken. He watched it all, your joy, your love. Your heart was on your face, and it struck something new and unexplored inside him.

You cried at one point, and physical touch wasn't his forte, but he intertwined his fingers with yours and gave them a reassuring squeeze that he was there. You'd turned to him briefly and nodded, showing that you understood and that you were grateful.

You didn't let go of his hand for the rest of the show.

'Wow,' you breathed out as you exited the theatre, the performance finally done. 'That was...'

'Yeah. I feel the same,' Spencer finished, his hands shoved into his pockets as they walked down the stairs towards the carpark. His hand still burned from your touch, and that unsure feeling in his gut still remained.

'It was just so... magical.'

'I would say impressive, but magical works too, I guess.'

'Says the guy who still goes trick-or-treating on Halloween and believes in ghosts. Don't tell me you don't believe in the supernatural now.'

'I'm not saying I don't believe. I'm just saying that it's impressive that they were able to make fantastical magic seem slightly realistic.'

You playfully shove him, causing you both to fall into laughter. The two different melodies mixing together made Spencer feel lighter than he'd felt in a while. This was different to when you usually hung out. This time, there was no case, no team, nothing but yourselves to worry about.

'It doesn't matter, anyways,' you said, stopping on the steps suddenly. Spencer went down one more before stopping too. You smiled gratefully at him. It was a cool, autumn night, cool enough that your breath danced like ghosts in front of you as you spoke. 'Thank you, Spence. This was a wonderful night. You didn't have to do this.'

'I know,' he said, and it startled him how quiet and soft his voice was. 'I just... I just wanted you to enjoy the stuff you love. You deserve to enjoy the stuff you love.'

His acute eyes fell to your shoulders and noticed the slight shake in them. 'Here.' He wasted no time pulling his jacket off and wrapping it around your shoulders, pulling it tight to capture the warmth.

You gratefully held onto the jacket, the warmth it captured seeping into your eyes. 'You truly are a wonder, Spencer,' you said, your words dancing in between you two.

He was only the step down now, making you two eye level with one another. He was so close he could see himself in your eyes. He wondered if you could see yourself in his.

'Am I?' he asked, his breath mixing with yours.

'Yeah...'

He felt your warmth, and he suddenly decided that he liked the feeling in his gut. The one that had been driving him crazy all night. The one that had an iron grip on his mind, his heart. The one that pulled him closer to you, to your lips.

His eyes were almost closed and his lips almost on yours. You didn't back away - you didn't want to back away you realised. No matter how hard your heart pounded in your chest. No matter if he was your best friend.

So you leaned in too, and you could just feel the stars and planets align as you tasted his breath-

The front of your heel slipped on the edge of the step, sending you flying forwards into Spencer's chest. His reflexes had improved immensely since joining the BAU, and so he managed to grab hold of you and hold himself up before your momentum could send you both tumbling down the remaining stairs.

You both breathed in heavy gulps of air, steadying both your hearts from what could've happened.

'Nice catch,' you said after a moment, loosening your grip on Spencer only a little.

'Thanks.' He didn't know where to look. You, the ground, his surroundings. It all just felt muddled, as if his whole world had been tilted on its axis.

In a sense, it had.

But he felt your gaze, and he couldn't deny your eyes so he looked at you also. You eyes were blown wide, and the slight catch in your breath had him second guessing himself. Maybe he'd read you wrong after all. He'd never been wrong before, but there was always a first time for everything, he figured.

'(Y/n), look, I-'

Before he could attempt to salvage himself, the irritating ring of his phone went off, breaking the glass dome of solitude you'd' forged together with nothing but words and air.

This forced you apart, awkwardly so, as Spencer readjusted you on his step before letting you go completely and fishing his phone out of his pant pocket. He checked the ID caller: Hotch.

He accepted the call and brought the phone to his ear. 'Hotch, what's up?'

'New case,' the unit chief answered without pleasantries. 'I know we're all meant to be off for the weekend but this one is important.'

'Where is it and we'll be there.'

'You're with (Y/n), right? In Staunton?'

'Yeah, why?'

'Head to the local police. We'll meet you there. That's where the case is.'

'Okay. Gotcha.'

Hotch ended the call and then it was just him and you once more. Although instead of the air feeling freeing and warming, Spencer couldn't seem to get enough in his lungs. It was like he was suffocating, having to face you again.

So he slipped into work mode, keeping Hotch's urgency and the new case in the forefront of his mind. 'New case. Here in Staunton. Hotch wants us to head down to the police and meet them there.'

'Right.' You seemed to think the same as him - it's probably why you were best friends to begin with - as the ethereal light in your eyes dimmed with the severity of the new situation. Without another word, you both bee-lined for the car, jumped in, and made your way to the local police station.

But for the rest of the case, Spencer couldn't help but think about that moment with you on the steps. He'd kissed before, of course, even dabbled in flirting despite how little he knew about the craft. He'd never imagined he'd attempt it all on you, however. Not even in his wildest dreams.

My Wonder (Spencer Reid x Reader) - The Confession

My Wonder (Spencer Reid x Reader) - The Confession  Word Count: 3863 Reader insert: she/her pronouns. She is not American unless you are, just has a previous history in American law enforcement. Warnings: mentions of murder, crime scene, guns, near-death experience, slow-burn romance, and some MAJOR FLUFF!  Spoilers: none

All his life, Dr. Spencer Reid has been told he is a genius - gifted, different. When you, a new member of the BAU, arrive, he expects the same weirded-out reaction from you as everyone does. But when you don't, and you instead find him interesting, Spencer finds himself forming an attachment to you. And as the years go on, is it really any wonder that he falls for you?

This is six times you secretly say I love you to Spencer: your love confession to one another.

Full story | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6

He didn't hear your heart-stopping compliment again until it was almost too late.

After the Staunton case, you and Spencer had been... odd. Well, mainly Spencer, as he spoke as little as possible to you during cases, and always offered to go with anyone else but you on certain tasks. He even stopped coming over to yours for movie night each Saturday, claiming each time to be busy or unwell. It was Spencer's only way of ensuring nothing like that night ever happened again.

He convinced himself the moment was fleeting, just a mixture of chemicals in his brain combined with the adrenaline of being with a beautiful women he very much admired that made him read the signs wrong. You were friends, that was all you were, and all he would ever allow you to be.

This went on for three months.

And you were miserable.

Emily, JJ and Penelope recognised the change in your demeanour at work first, and when they found out the reason behind it, they slapped Spencer upside the head on their way out of the office one Friday afternoon and took you with them, promising a wonderful night out on the town.

That night, to Spencer's eventual annoyance, you'd met someone. A charming young firefighter named Riley who lived in Washington DC and was just in town to see family.

That night, you hooked up. And the next morning, he asked you on a date. That date led to another, then more. You were on your way to another one tonight when you got a phone call from JJ saying they found the latest unsub's house and were planning a raid on it.

Spencer knew you were on a date when he also got the phone call to come along. Despite his distance (by his own choice, he always had to remind himself), he kept tabs on you, checked in on you via others. And while the girls of the team were awfully mad at him, they always answered him when he asked how you were doing.

'You know, for a genius, you really are quite stupid,' JJ told him when he asked about you.

He quirked his eyebrow, genuinely confused. 'I'm sorry?'

'She's heartbroken,' Penelope added. 'Her best friend just gives her the silent treatment out of nowhere after what sounded like a magical night at the theatre. Who wouldn't be upset by that, Reid?'

'I just,' he paused, rallying his thoughts into words that couldn't quite describe how he felt. 'It's complicated.'

'Love shouldn't be complicated, Reid,' Emily interjected, a soft but sad smile gracing her painted lips.

Spencer swallowed thickly at that. 'W-What do you mean?'

Derek finished making his coffee and took a sip of it before answering. 'We all see it, Reid. You don't have to deny anymore how you feel.'

'I'm not denying anything, Morgan.'

'Maybe not to us,' Derek continued. 'But you are definitely denying it to yourself. All I can say is don't wait until it's too late. She's already slipping away.'

That's when Spencer found out about your dates with Riley, and an ugly, selfish, hurt part of him wanted to scream with anger. Mainly at himself, but the damage was done and he had to get over you.

But when you showed up to the unsub's home, your FBI bullet-proof vest on and mascara slightly smeared under your eyes, he was beyond confused. And concerned.

'You're here,' he stated matter-of-factly.

'You sound surprised,' you answered stiffly, loading your gun without even glancing at him.

'To be honest, yeah. JJ and the rest all said you were out tonight. I figured you-'

'What? That I would ignore the call because I had something personal planned?' You finally looked up at him, and man did your cold stare pierce him like an arrow. 'This is my job, Spence. I knew, same as you and everyone else, that I would have to make some sacrifices to do it. So please, don't think so little of me just because I attempted to have a life outside of it.'

He grew more concerned at your choice of words. 'Attempted?' he asked, but then he looked closely at your smeared mascara, at the redness circling your eyes. Like you'd been crying-

'Don't worry about it,' you muttered, brushing past him to meet up with the team. 'You haven't for about four months now.'

Spencer tried to ignore the sting your words brought with them as he followed you to the rest of the team, forcing himself to put the case in front of you. But he'd done that for the past four months as you had so brightly pointed out, and look where it had landed him.

'Now remember,' Hotch started, bringing the team and some other officers in to brief, 'this unsub may use this place as his base to build his bombs, but don't discredit the idea that he wouldn't blow it up to save himself. Tread carefully but be vigilant, he is in the house somewhere. Now move.'

Spencer followed you into the house through the front door, gun and flashlight at the ready. All that could be heard were the soft but swift patter of footsteps as the FBI and local police ran in. The lights were on, but no unsub.

You were silently directed by Hotch to investigate the back end of the house, to which Spencer and Derek followed. You focussed on maintaining your breathing as you tried not to think about your date, Spencer, your heart thrashing in your ribcage. Only the unsub mattered.

The three of you broke into the last room of the house, the laundry. Upon entry, you spotted him, the unsub, running out the back door into the backyard.

'Hey!' you called out, immediately breaking into a sprint after him. You broke out of the laundry onto a cemented path towards a clothes line, chasing after him towards the fence line. But as you stepped off the path and onto the grass, something gave way beneath your feet, followed by a resounding click that had your freezing with fear.

'(L/n), keep going!' Derek shouted from somewhere behind you.

'Hold up!' you cried, throwing an arm back behind you. 'I think the yard is full of bombs.'

'Well, let's go around the front and get him in the back streets, come on!'

'I can't,' you replied back, slightly breathless from running, but also from the fear constricting now your airways.

'Why?' You didn't have to see him to know it was Spencer, concern dripping from just one word.

'Because I'm standing on one.'

Spencer knew it was physically impossible, but he was sure his stomach just dropped out of him and onto the bomb-littered grass around them. This was bad. Like very very bad.

'Shit,' Derek breathed out before bringing his wrist up to his mouth. 'Hotch, the unsub got away over the back fence, send some men to intercept him two blocks north from here.'

'Got it,' Hotch answered efficiently.

'And send the bomb squad out here. Yard is like a mine field and (L/n) is standing on one.'

After that, it didn't take long for the rest of the team to run outside, making extra careful to stand only on the pavements as they got as close to you as they could. Spencer stood the closest, standing directly in front of you as the bomb squad swept the yard for the rest of them.

'I've got some good news and some bad news,' one member of the bomb squad said as she came up to the team. 'Good news is it's the only bomb in the yard.'

'And I just managed to find it. Super,' you muttered, your tone shaky although the intention was to lighten the mood.

'Bad news is it's a pressure-triggered bomb, meaning that if you move even a fraction it'll go off. Also, by stepping on it, you've set of a timer until it explodes. The only way to disarm it seems to be a code of some kind.'

'How long do we have?' Spencer asked, not bothering to mask his desperation. This couldn't be happening. Of all the people, it had to be you.

'Six hours now,' she said grimly. 'My team and I will do everything we can to dismantle it and shut it off manually, but it's built quite strong so it'll be tough to crack open without setting it off. Your best bet will be to get an answer from your bomber.'

'Uniforms just called in,' Rossi said. 'They're bringing him in now.'

'Good,' Hotch said with a ferocity that would send most people running for the hills. 'He's gonna give us that code one way or another.' He turned to you, determination blazing in his eyes. 'Hang tight, (Y/n). We're gonna get you off that thing.'

'I'll hold you to that,' you joked, and you were grateful to receive a soft smile in return from Hotch and the rest of the team. Except for Spencer, he couldn't find it in himself to smile. He could barely think no thanks to your dangerous position.

'I'll stay with (Y/n),' Spencer said, his voice strained compared to his usual calmness.

'Reid,' Derek started, 'you're our best bet to crack open this guy. If we find something-'

'Then I'll have my phone ready to pick up. I'm not leaving her.'

It surprised you the strength you heard hidden underneath his fear. It was there in his eyes too, blazing like Hotch's, except with more warmth, more determination.

Derek looked to Hotch, and Hotch just nodded. 'Okay fine, but you better pick up on the first ring.'

'Promise.'

'I'll stay to help with the bomb squad,' Emily said while also looking at you.

'No,' you said as Hotch, Derek and JJ left. 'You all should go. In case he somehow remotely sets it off himself.'

'We're not leaving,' Reid said firmly, making eye contact with you. 'Not until you're off that bomb, you hear me?'

You wanted to argue, trying to be selfless and strong. But the truth was you were terrified, and to hear Spencer's strength where you lacked helped you push your pride aside and nod in agreement.

Time had flown by and it was now the last ten minutes. Spencer had received phone call after phone call but nothing had been helpful. They'd tried two potential codes already but they didn't work. The bomb squad quickly realised that they only had three chances to get the code right and so they were down to the last chance.

'You guys should really leave,' you said amidst your chattering teeth. It was now just after midnight and your thin button up and the bulletproof vest were not cutting it anymore. Spencer wished he could give you a blanket, a jacket, his own shirt for God's sake if it would keep you warm slightly.

'That's not going to happen,' he answered without hesitation.

You yawned, eyes threatening to droop close. Your legs had gone numb long ago. You were unsure how you were holding yourself up. It certainly wasn't by adrenaline. Perhaps you were frozen in place.

'I mean it, Spence,' you said, bracing yourself as another shiver threatened to spasm your entire body. 'It's the last ten minutes. You should be clear in case it goes off.'

'I'm not going to do that.'

'Damnit, Spencer. Of all the times to be stubborn, you choose now?'

'I'm not being stubborn,' Spencer argued. Were you purposefully trying to tick him off now? 'I'm trying to save your life!'

'You're right, you're not being stubborn. You're being plain stupid,' you retorted. You weren't sure why you were suddenly so angry, you just didn't like him playing the hero when he didn't have to.

'Yes! I am stupid, I admit that. I'll announce that to the entire neighbourhood right now if you want me to! Because if it weren't for me being an idiot, you wouldn't have had those dates, you wouldn't have had a date tonight, and maybe you wouldn't be stuck standing on a bomb right now!'

You stared incredulously at Spencer. He blamed himself for your situation? For Riley?

Despite the bustling of people around them, everything grew silent as youO stared at one another, Spencer's chest heaving as he sucked in air hard.

'Spence,' you said softly, your anger suddenly dissipating. 'I don't blame you for any of this. I would've ended up on this bomb one way or another. Or even worse, it could've been you standing on it. And as for Riley...' You thought the tears would come up again like before, but your eyes remained dry, and your heart didn't pull harshly.

Not for Riley, anyways.

'Did something happen between you two?' Spencer tentatively asked. His tone bordered on concerned and hopeful, demonstrating his torn mindset to whatever you were about to say.

You nodded. 'I told him I had to go to work, which wasn't unusual, but he just flipped. Said he was sick of me choosing you guys over him and that he was finished.'

He hated himself for feeling the slightest bit happy at the news, but his best friend instincts kicked in, and all he wanted to do was reach out and hold you. 'I'm sorry. You could've said no. We would've understood-'

'Spencer, I will always choose you guys over anyone,' you interjected, and the complete seriousness on your face reflected your sincerity brighter than the full moon above. 'I will always choose you, Spence.'

It was then Spencer saw it: the same feeling he'd had swirling in his stomach for months reflected in your eyes. It scared him, but what scared him more was that it would all be gone soon if he didn't do anything about it.

He would be too late, just like Derek said.

The bomb squad lady and Emily walked up to them both, and Spencer did not like the grim expressions on their faces.

'I'm sorry,' the bomb squad lady said. 'It's the last five minutes. There's nothing else we can do but clear out of the blast zone.'

'What about the code?' Spencer pressed, but Emily shook her head.

'Reid, they've gotten nothing out of him. We've got to go.'

'But we can't just leave her here-'

'Trust me, Spencer, I don't want to either!' Emily cried, tears pricking at her eyes at the thought of you dying. 'But we can't do anything for her here. I've got the remote to input the code if they get another one, but until then, we've got to clear from the blast zone.'

'No.' Spencer shook his head vigourously. He couldn't accept this. He wouldn't accept this.

'Spencer,' you tried gently. 'It's okay. I can do the rest alone. I want you to be safe.'

'Well, too bad, because I'm staying.'

You squeezed your eyes shut as tears rushed down your cheeks. 'Damnit, Spencer. Please, just go. Don't make this harder than it already is.'

Spencer took a daring step towards you, the tops of his shoes dangling just over the edge of the pavement. 'I won't abandon you. Not again.'

You were most likely a blubbering mess, your heart hurting so much at the thought that he would get caught up in your mess. 'God, why don't you just leave-'

'Because I love you, (Y/n)!'

The four of you stood dumbfounded as his proclamation echoed through the yard, the house, the street back out the front. Hell, Spencer hoped the whole world heard what he said, because he felt free for the first time in months, weightless, powerful.

And it was all because of you.

'I love you,' he repeated again, softer this time. As the reality of the situation came crashing down on him, tears of his own sprouted in his eyes and ran down his cheeks. He'd finally built up the courage to tell you, and you were minutes away from being blown up.

Through your tears, you find it in yourself to chuckle a little. It's watery and gross-sounding, but Spencer likes it none the less because it's yours, and you haven't lost complete hope. 'Talk about great timing, you big idiot.' And then there it is, that bright smile he saw day one in the office. You wore it with such pride, such strength it pulled at Spencer's heart strings painfully. 'You truly are a wonder, Spencer Reid.'

'One minute,' the bomb squad lady said, her tone frantic now. 'We've got to move! Now!'

'Reid, come on!' Emily cried, backing up with the bomb squad.

'I won't abandon her,' he replied, never taking his eyes off you.

'Reid please!'

Before he could reply, though, his phone buzzed, and he immediately answered the call. 'Please tell me you go it.'

'HOME! The code word is HOME!'

'Punch in HOME!' Reid called out to Emily, keeping Derek on the line as he stared at you. If you were to die, he was gonna make damn sure the last thing you saw wasn't an unfamiliar face.

'Are you sure?'

'We're out of time! Do it!'

'Spence...' you muttered. But you never finished your sentence, as your breath got caught while watching Emily punch in the code into the device. You closed your eyes. Soon you would be in eternal darkness. You would not fear it, but embrace it.

But when nothing happened, you dared to sneak a peek at what was going on. You saw Spencer first, who looked at Emily, who looked at the device in her hands. The deathly silence was finally broken at the sound of a green light on the device switching on. You then heard a hundred tiny clicks somewhere underfoot and felt yourself being pushed up back onto level ground.

Spencer finally looked back to you, eyes blown wide with hope he dared not realise. That same hope fuelled your frozen, tired legs, to take the tiniest of steps forward, and when nothing happened, you took your other foot off the bomb and collapsed forward into Spencer's arms.

His heart pounded faster than the jet that flew them all over the country every week as he cradled you simultaneously gently and tightly. You sobbed into his chest, your arms circling around his back and pulling him as tight as possible.

Oh, how he had missed your touch, your affection, your love, you.

'It's okay, you're okay,' he soothed, patting your hair down with one hand while he cradled you with the other. 'I'm here. We're all here.' He realised suddenly he'd dropped his phone, and so with one hand, he reached down and picked it up, bringing it to his ear. 'She's off.'

He barely heard the cheers of excitement and relief on Derek's end before he was hanging up and helping you to your feet. After that, it was a whirlwind of the bomb squad excavating the bomb, paramedics arriving, and CSU investigating the house.

After giving his statement of events to the local police and finishing speaking to other officials, he found you wrapped in a trauma blanket in the open back of an ambulance.

'How are you feeling?' he said as he approached you.

You broke free of your own world to look at Spencer, and a soft smile managed its way onto your lips. 'Well, I can feel my legs again so that's a start. And you?'

'All the better now that you're not standing on a bomb.'

You chuckled, though a red tinge dusted your cheeks out of embarrassment. 'I must admit, it's true what they say about your life flashing before your eyes the moment before you die.'

'Really? What did you see?' Spencer had read articles about this kind of stuff before, but had never spoken with a person who'd experience it themselves.

You didn't answer straight away, instead standing up to face him fully. Your legs felt like jelly a little but you stood strong. 'I saw you,' you replied easily, as if breathing air. 'Only you.'

Spencer couldn't hold it back, his fear, his relief. It all came bubbling out in an ugly sob as he pulled you into a bone-crushing hug, pressing his face into your hair, using your scent to calm himself. He felt you sobbing too, how your body shook with your own anxieties.

'I missed you,' you said, your words muffled into his chest.

'I know, I'm sorry,' he murmured. 'I missed you, too.' He pulled you back slightly so that he could see your face. He wiped at your tears and forced his best smile just for you. 'But I'm back now. And I'm not going anywhere. That is... if you want me around.'

You heard his silent question, and it made you smile how confident and shy he could be simultaneously.

'Spencer Reid,' you murmured, like what you were about to say next was your biggest secret, 'of course I want you around. I love you.'

He chuckled with relief, tears still pricking at his eyes. But your words sealed your fate, as he used his small amount of confidence to grab the back of your neck gently and pull your lips to his.

You were the sweetest thing he'd ever tasted, and dare he compare you the most addictive drug he could ever hope to get high on. He couldn't get enough of you, and it was such a relief to finally let it out how much he needed you to breathe.

You were equally breathless, simultaneously feeling all consumed by Spencer's love without also having enough of it. Your fingers danced in the soft curls at the nape of his neck, threading yourself into him as much as possible. The truth was, the past four months were torturous.

'I'm not going anywhere.'

As you both finally broke apart, you pressed your foreheads together, nervous giggles of teenagers bubbling up in you both. This was fresh and new, but the love you had for one another had been there all along. No one was going anywhere.

'Finally!'

You and Spencer looked up to see the rest of the team watching from afar, with Emily and JJ smiling giddily, Derek and Rossi trying to suppress laughter, and Hotch having the simplest of grins on his lips.

'Oh, babygirl is going to have a field day when she hears about this,' Derek said, walking up to clap Spencer on the back and give him a hug. 'Well done, man.'

'It's about time,' Rossi said as the rest of the team joined you both. 'I thought I was going to have to take matters into my own hands.'

'Thank God you didn't,' Emily said, both her and JJ giving you a hug. 'As much as this has been traumatic for all of us, I'm so glad it brought you back together.'

'Say that to my poor legs,' you whined, but you hugged them just as tight. Truthfully, you felt the same. And as Reid held you in his arms that night, having refused to let you out of his sight after your brush with death, you couldn't be more grateful for it, too.

My Wonder (Spencer Reid x Reader) - The Wedding

My Wonder (Spencer Reid x Reader) - The Wedding  Word Count: 2576 Reader insert: she/her pronouns. She is not American unless you are, just has a previous history in American law enforcement. Warnings: mentions of beatings, blood, suffocation, near-death experiences, slow-burn romance, and some MAJOR FLUFF!  Spoilers: none

All his life, Dr. Spencer Reid has been told he is a genius - gifted, different. When you, a new member of the BAU, arrive, he expects the same weirded-out reaction from you as everyone does. But when you don't, and you instead find him interesting, Spencer finds himself forming an attachment to you. And as the years go on, is it really any wonder that he falls for you?

This is one of six times you secretly say I love you to Spencer: your wedding.

Full story | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6

Your wedding was the next major point in his life that your words had impact.

The past five years leading up to your engagement had been some of the best and challenging in your life. There'd been many more close calls on both your lives since then - kidnappings, hostage situations, deadly viruses, the works. Even some romantic challenges that came in the form of other men and women.

But your bond ran deeper than superficial, petty spiffs. You always found your way back to one another, no matter how dark the road got. It was even on such a dark case that saw both you and Spencer on death row that he asked you. You'd both been captured and locked in a shipping container filled with no gaps for air and no way out. Before that, you'd copped a beating from your capture, forcing Spencer to watch all the while. Truthfully, it hadn't looked good, and that's why Spencer did it.

'What?' you asked deliriously, barely able to see straight no thanks to the lack of oxygen.

'I was planning on asking you... after this case,' Spencer admitted, his face mere centimetres from yours as he held you in a tight hug. He was breathless, running out of air and time it seemed. He had to do it now. 'Had it all planned out... We would go to that place on the hill we go to... a picnic all set out... and just as the sun would set, I'd ask you... and give you this.'

You would've gasped if you'd had enough air to do so, in utter shock to see Spencer pull out a simple gold band with a diamond embedded in it from in his pant pocket.

'I've had this for months... waiting for the... right time,' he managed to get out. 'It's my mothers. When I told her I wanted to marry you... she didn't even hesitate to give it to me.'

You were both weak, but he softly picked your left hand up and looked you dead in the eye. 'This might be it for us, but it also might not. Either way, I want to be yours for whatever time we have left. So, (Y/n) (L/n)... will you marry me?'

The tears that trekked down your face actually cleared your vision enough to see Spencer's smile clearly as you answered, 'Yes. I will marry you.'

Either some higher being was looking out for you that day, or your team was just really good at their job (Spencer never doubted them for a moment), but the team found you both in time, both unconscious and barely breathing, but hand in hand, with yours suddenly bejewelled.

Since then it had been a flurry of work and wedding arrangements and stress over the next seven months. Many speculated you were pregnant and that's why you and Spencer rushed the wedding. The truth was you just didn't want to wait any longer than you had to, not being in your line of work. Any day could be your last, so why waste it.

Spencer messed with the tie of his navy blue suit for the hundredth time as he stood waiting under the arch of flowers in the backyard of Rossi's mansion for you. He wasn't nervous, just... ansty, like he had ants in his pants and wanted to get out of them as soon as possible. But he couldn't deny he was just as excited for this day as you were. All of your friends and family dressed up, no case, no killer, nothing but what dessert they were going to have at the reception to worry about. 

'Hey pretty boy,' Derek said, coming up behind him and clapping a hand on his shoulder reassuringly. 'Stop messing with it. You look fine.'

'I know, I just...' Spencer couldn't put into words what he was feeling, not as he stared at his good friend - his best man. Even though Derek had left the BAU, Spencer and him still spoke regularly, and he was more than happy to be there for his best bud at arguably the most important day of his life. 

Derek smiled knowingly, straightening Spencer's tie because that's what the best man did for the groom. 'She loves you, Spencer. You've got nothing to worry about.'

'I'm not worried. I just...' He felt the tears already coming on and he hadn't even seen you yet. You were probably even more gorgeous than you already were. God he couldn't wait to marry you.

'I get it, man,' Derek said, and then the piano started playing a soft, whimsical tune that was so you and he stepped back into place. 'Show time, pretty boy.'

Spencer straightened himself up, told himself to hold the tears back. This was not a sad day, but a joyous one. But his breath was stolen the moment the doors of Rossi's mansion opened, after Emily, JJ and Penelope walked through, and you walked out into the backyard on your father's arm. 

Your gown was simple, accentuating your body like the goddess you were. Your (h/c) locks were styled to perfection, hidden barely by the thin veil that fell like morning mist over your face. You held your favourite flowers in your hands, the glint of your engagement ring shining as bright as the sun that shone upon the whole ceremony.

By the time you reached him, Spencer was about ready to rip your veil off, kiss the living daylights out of you and runaway. But he resisted, instead waiting patiently for your dad to flip your veil up, and for you to hand over your bouquet to JJ, your maid of honour. When you finally turned to face him, he could've cried. You were so beautiful. And we was marrying you today.

You reached out to him, and he was more than glad to clasp your hands at last.

'Hi,' you whispered, a nervous but excited smile twitching your lips.

'Hi,' he whispered back, the threat of tears burning the back of his eyes again. 'You are gorgeous.'

'Thanks. You look handsome.'

'It's a wonder what a whole eight hours sleep and showering more than once a week can do.'

He was so glad to hear your laugh. It calmed his nerves, and apparently yours calmed too, as your hands no longer shook in his.

'All right, everyone,' Rossi started, stepping up to minister the ceremony. 'Let's get this started.'

The boring, ceremonious stuff went by quickly and soon you were reciting your vows. You'd both wanted to write your own vows for each other - agreeing that the usual script was not enough to express your love for one another, and what you would do to protect that love. 

Reid went first. 

'(Y/n),' he began, staring you straight in your eyes. He'd written his speech over and over again, but once he found the right words, it only took him a matter of seconds to memorise them. Forever. 'I've always been told I was different. Gifted, special. Being different helped me get this job, this family-' he turned to his friends, who watched them with bright smiles and teary eyes. 'But it also got me in trouble, held me back from experiencing... normal things like friendship, even love. So much so, that I started to believe... I was unworthy of love.'

You squeezed his hands, hearing the stutter in his words, the built up emotion that threatened to consume him. He gratefully squeezed back, grateful to know he was not alone, that he would never be alone from this day forth. 

'But from the day I met you, you've shown me that I can be myself and be worthy of love. Theoretically, we shouldn't work. Despite popular opinion, studies have shown that people from different backgrounds, with different interests and completely different personality traits are less likely to feel attracted to one another than people with similar backgrounds, interests and personalities.'

'Come on, Reid. You really want people to sleep through your wedding?' Derek asked, prompting you and the rest of the guests to burst into laughter. 

'I have a point,' he countered, and waited for the laughter to die down before resuming his vows. 'And while I usually rely on statistics and facts to make informed decisions about my life, from the day that I met you, you turned my entire world upside, inside out... and I didn't care. Because despite knowing almost everything there is to know about, well, everything, you are the one thing that has and always will make sense to me.'

He saw you trying to hold back tears, so he let go of one of your hands to caress your cheek where some tears rolled down. He swiped them away gently with his thumb without ruining your makeup, the most handsome, beautiful smile you'd ever seen on his lips. 

'I love you, (Y/n) (L/n). I have loved you since we first met, at every case, at every movie night, every time you made me coffee. I love how you find the light amidst the darkness, how you give yourself completely to everyone you meet. I love the crinkle in your forehead every time you get mad at me. I love all of you, and I don't have to promise you that I will stay by your side through it all for the rest of our lives. You have had me since day one, and that will never change, even in death. But before that final day comes, I look forward to making the most of what time we have left loving you.'

The guests clapped so loudly that he almost didn't hear your soft sobs. But he did, and he pulled you into a quick hug before you pulled yourself away.

'Oh my goodness, I just want to kiss you,' you admitted quietly to him, bringing laughter out of him. But you quickly pulled your self away, using your free hand to grab an A4-sized piece of paper from JJ and return to face Spencer.

'Unfortunately, I don't have an eidetic memory so I will be using some assistance for this next bit,' you joked, stopping your flow of tears briefly as everyone chuckled, appreciative for the break in overwhelming emotions. Spencer breathed in deeply, steadying his heartbeat as much as possible. His part was done, but he knew this next part would be the hardest to retain composure. 

'Spencer,' you began, one hand shakily holding your vows, while the other gripped onto Spencer like your life depended on it. In a sense, after today, it would. 'From the moment I first met you, I knew you were special. That you would leave a mark on my life in one form or another. Some sad part of me sometimes thought it would be when you inevitably shot yourself because you couldn't pass your marksman test after three goes-' Cue Spencer looking to Hotch apologetically while the rest of the guests laughed. '-or because, in our line of work, any day could be our last, and I wouldn't rule out any psychopaths intervening with that. However, despite it all, you're still here, and I couldn't be more thankful that you are. You amaze me everyday, Spencer - with your knowledge of the world, your intellectual insight, how you are almost incapable of growing any substantial amount of facial hair.'

You were glad people were laughing now, because what you were about to say next was going to take all your composure not to fall apart. 

'But it is your heart and your ability to connect with people that has captured me completely. Our story has been... unconventional, to put it plainly. We were colleagues first, then friends, then you became my best friend, and I thought I couldn't be happier than that. But maybe it has something to do with some chemicals in the brain that are stimulated when you hang around someone you admire and adore long enough - you know, science stuff - or fate. I don't necessarily believe in either, but I do believe in us, Spencer. I believe that we are two souls choosing to become one for the rest of our lives; I believe you are my person, and the one I choose to face each and everyday with; I believe we haven't overcome all that we have for nothing; and I am not the least bit surprised it took nearly getting blown up to admit how I truly feel about you.'

Spencer couldn't care that what you said about brain chemicals was technically incorrect, it was so you, and there was not a dry eye in the backyard as you looked up at him finally, sheet long forgotten, and (e/c) eyes shining bright with tears and love.

'I love you, Spencer Reid,' you said breathlessly, but loud enough for everyone to hear. 'You have experienced the worst of humanity over and over again, and yet here you stand with me, smiling, happy, choosing to believe in happy endings. You are a wonder - my wonder - and I can't wait to spend everyday from now loving you, and being wowed by you. From now... until I cannot breathe, and even then beyond.'

You gave the paper back to JJ, then returned your full attention to Spencer. It was like it was only you two, the clapping from your guests dulled as well as Rossi's final words. But Spencer didn't miss a beat when he heard him say, 'By the power vested in me and my online-approved minister credentials, I pronounce you husband and wife. Go on kids, you've earned it.'

Spencer swooped you into the sweetest, loving kiss he could muster, gently cradling your neck and cheeks as your lips met in a soft collision. It wasn't lustful (that would certainly come later), but it was consuming, like two forces being pulled together by a magnet. You were separate entities choosing to become one, and it made you smile through your kiss and for the rest of the afternoon and well into the evening. 

You both partied with your family and friends, but you always managed to find your way back to one another despite the chaos. He now cradled you gently as you swayed together on the dance floor, fatigue settling in. You held each other up as you did, content to just be with each other in the final moments of your special day. Emily, your new section chief, had ordered you both take two weeks off to celebrate your honey moon. Because God knew when the next time you'd be able to relax would be when you both came back to work.

You shifted in his arms, manoeuvring yourself to look up at him, a delirious, tired and happy smile adorning your pretty lips. 'I love you, Spencer Reid.'

He leaned in for a brief but loving kiss before saying, 'I love you, (Y/n) Reid.'

Something about how his last named paired with your first name sounded that warmed him inside. The same feeling lit up in your eyes, but maybe that was just the happy tears that formed there, too. 

'We're the Reids now,' you whispered in disbelief, probably due to the amount of alcohol you had consumed throughout the day. 'You're my husband!'

'Yes I am,' he murmured, pulling you back to his chest to lay your head. 'Forever and always.'

My Wonder (Spencer Reid x Reader) - The End

My Wonder (Spencer Reid x Reader) - The End Word Count: 1702 Reader insert: she/her pronouns. She is not American unless you are, just has a previous history in American law enforcement. Warnings: mentions of amnesia, death, tears will be shed, and soft fluff Spoilers: none

All his life, Dr. Spencer Reid has been told he is a genius - gifted, different. When you, a new member of the BAU, arrive, he expects the same weirded-out reaction from you as everyone does. But when you don't, and you instead find him interesting, Spencer finds himself forming an attachment to you. And as the years go on, is it really any wonder that he falls for you?

This is one of six times you secretly say I love you to Spencer, and one time he says it back in the same fashion: at the end of it all.

Full story | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6

The last time he heard you say those special words was the day you said goodbye.

It wasn't until you fell pregnant with your first child that you found a proper house to live in. You'd been content with the studio apartment you'd found and moved into one year into your relationship, but when you fell pregnant, Spencer knew you would need a bigger space. One that you could call your own and make a home out of. 

Your forever home.

Surprisingly, it hadn't taken long to find something: a nice rustic, two-storey house on the outskirts of DC. It was in a nice neighbourhood , far enough out of the city to be quiet, but close enough you could both get to work quick enough in case of an emergency. The moment you'd laid eyes on it, you fell in love with it, and Spencer knew without question this would be where you brought your family up.

He traipsed through the house with two cups of tea. Coffee had started to disagree with him after he quit the BAU, as if that were the only place he needed it. Teaching and guest lecturing at all the local universities was nowhere near the stress level of the BAU, and so he'd switched to tea. Somehow, in his (as he called it) pre-retirement, it tasted sweeter.

You had stepped down from being a profiler at the BAU after your third child was born, realising that with a four and two year old waiting outside the birth suite to meet their baby brother, you couldn't risk leaving your three babies without a mother. And while leaving the BAU, your home of close to twenty years, wrought a grief out of you that was close to unbearable, you knew it was the right decision and right time.

And you soon found a love for writing - fiction, non-fiction, poetry, it didn't matter. What you'd experienced in your career as a profiler had changed you, and sometimes writing it out made it less haunting, it gave you closure. You went on book tours, consulted on scholarly and literary journals, you even were brought into Spencer's classrooms to guest lecture from time to time.

All the while building and loving the family both of you had always dreamed of.

Spencer smiled at the dusty pictures that lined the walls, of the faces of his children and grandchildren smiling back him. Of the faces of friends old and new, of ghosts he used to know from a time long gone. Sometimes he hardly recognised himself in those pictures. He wasn't the vain type, but when he looked at himself in his 20's and 30's, he couldn't help the yearning that pulled at his heart when he did. 

He compared those youthful pictures against his present day, laughing at the barely existent grey stubble he now sported, of the white hair that curled and stood up in any and all directions, of the glasses he now permanently had to wear. You always said he looked sexier with glasses, anyways, so he didn't mind.

Those pictures were his memory, his legacy, his life. When he felt his brain burning, when his memory became a bit too fuzzy, he could always look at the pictures and find solace in how those moments would live on in the people he loved.

'Spence?'

Your voice prompted him to keep moving, to let go of the past and remain in the present. He wandered through the rest of the house to the backyard, where two garden chairs sat either side of a coffee table, looking over the yard. The gardens were filled with flowers of all shapes and colours. He wasn't a nature guy by any means, but Spencer wanted you to have something to look after other than him or the children, something you could be proud of when you were much older. So he'd planted it himself (okay, he needed help from Derek), filling it with flowers that expressed all the wonderful qualities he loved about you.

There was a small gardening shed in the back, a quaint barbecue/entertainment area to one side, and a build-your-own playground just sitting on the lawn. He found you sitting comfortably in one of the chairs, staring out at the yard contently. He placed both cups of tea on the table before taking his own seat in the other chair.

'Do you remember how Jason used to carry Diana on his back up the slide?' you asked gently, a fond smile cracking your dry lips at the memory of your children playing on the very same playground their children now played on when they visited. 'You always got so scared they would fall and hurt themselves.'

'Isn't that our job?' he asked, taking a sip of his tea. 'To worry for our children?'

'You didn't have to be a helicopter parent, though,' you jibed playfully. 'You got better when Aaron was old enough to climb himself, so I can't berate you for that.'

'Speaking of which, Aaron just called, said him, Rachel and the kids want to invites us to dinner on Friday.'

You turned and smiled at him, but he saw how tired you were. It was in the slight droop in your lips when you smiled, it was in the slouch of your shoulders, it was the way you held out your hand for him to grasp and you could barely squeeze him back. You'd been like this for days, and it broke Spencer's heart to see the love of his life slowly fade away right beside him. He knew it was a natural way of life - considering their previous occupations, he was grateful to be even given the chance to grow old with you. 

But despite natural law and despite his many blessings, it didn't dull the ache that grew more painful everyday.

'You don't have to be here, Spence,' you said, voice barely above a whisper, like it was just a secret only you two shared. 'You've seen enough death already.'

Spencer placed his cup on the table before getting out of his chair (a feat he struggled withe everyday now, his BAU days finally catching up to him) and walking around to your side, bringing both his hands to clasp yours as he knelt beside you.

'I'm not going anywhere,' he said, willing every ounce of sincerity and love into his words, into his hands as he held your frail ones. 'Forever and always, remember?'

Spencer almost broke down when your eyes locked with his, those shining (e/c) orbs sparkling with life and mischief and wonder. Despite what time had done to you, you were still his (Y/n), his best friend, his partner, his lover and saviour.

You nodded as if to say yes, I do remember. I always will. You pull one hand free of his grip, and use it to cradle his wrinkled cheeks. 'We've lived a good life, haven't we, Spence?'

He pulled one hand away to caress your hand on his cheek, holding it there for as long as he could. 'Yes. Yes we have.'

Your eyes scanned over him, suddenly seeing your life in rewind. 

You saw him as he was now, white, Einstein hair, wrinkled skin and glasses. Then with only little streaks of white in his hair, more sleek. That's how he was with the kids. You kept going back, to your wedding, to your engagement, to the first time you kissed. Every movie night, every case, every late night in the office. Until you were seeing him as if for the first time. Kind of dorky, kind of sweet, wide-eyed and bushy-tailed to explain to you how his "physics magic" worked that very first day in the office.

It was like he was seeing you for the first time as well, as you smiled your bright smile like you did on that first day. The smile you had smiled for him every day since. The smile he saw in your children, and then your grandchildren.

'You are a true wonder, Spence,' you whispered softly, using what little strength you had left to squeeze the hand that still clasped yours as if to say thank you. 'My wonder.'

He waited for the lump in his throat to form, for the words to get stuck in his throat like they always did before. But the lump never formed, and so the words flowed like water out of him, finally feeling right.

'And you are mine,' he whispered back, smiling as bright as he could for you as he held you. 'You always have been my wonder.'

You bring his lips to yours one last time before dropping your hand from his face and sitting back in your seat, looking more tired than you'd ever been. But your other hand still held his, and he certainly wasn't going to let you go. Not yet.

'Spence,' you wheezed, eyes struggling to stay open on him.

Spencer pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead, using his now free hand to stroke your grey hair in soothing motions. 'It's okay. You can rest now. I'll join you soon enough.'

The slight dip of your chin let him know you understood, and soon after you closed your eyes, your hand grew slack in his hold and your chest ceased rising. 

You were gone.

And he was still here.

It was only then did Spencer allow the tears to fall, to acknowledge that despite both of your acceptances, he was sad. You'd lived good, long lives, and even then Spencer believed it was not enough time to love all of you. He knew it was selfish, but he figured after all he'd been through he would be allowed this one wish.

He held you for another hour before he called your children to notify them of your passing. 

He held on for another year before he joined you. Cause of death: a broken heart.

He was buried beside you in the family lot, and on your joint headstone, it wrote: 

Here lies Dr. Spencer Reid and Mrs. (Y/n) Reid. Loving Husband and Wife and Parents. "You truly are a wonder."

The Way Back Home (Spencer Reid x Reader) - Prologue

The Way Back Home (Spencer Reid x Reader) - The Prologue Word Count: 4001 Reader Insert: she/her pronouns Warnings: major angst, major fluff, mentions of murder, crime scenes, near-death experiences, slow-burnish romance, death, canon violence, rape, swearing, guns, knives, prostitution, canon cuteness of the team. Spoilers: Maeve's death, mentions of previous cases or canon events from seasons 1-10.

Spencer and you have an unspoken connection with one another. Nothing has ever happened between you two, especially since everything went down with Maeve, but your love has grown and overcome and is now clear as day to everyone. However, just when Spencer builds up enough courage to ask you out officially, you're requested on an undercover mission that halts your budding relationship in its tracks.

Months go by without a word from you until bodies of prostitutes start showing up in New York and the BAU is brought in to help. Spencer and you finally reunite as both your cases collide, but your lives and your love are both on the line now.

Will you and Spencer be able to find the way back home this time?

Prologue | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Epilogue

~~~

You released a tired, relieved sigh as you and the rest of the team exited the elevator and walked back into the bullpen. You'd just landed back after a week in Utah chasing a serial killer who turned out to be a mormon. He killed in the name of burning out the false children of God from humanity - literally. The Unsub managed to burn six innocent people alive before they apprehended him.

'I cannot wait to go home for a hot bath and a good glass of scotch,' Rossi said, rubbing at the kink in his neck from the sleep home on the plane.

'Ditto,' Alex said. 'James is home for the weekend, and he has promised me some home made pie that I am very much looking forward to.'

You smiled as you reached your desk, the echo of the others adding to the conversation of what they were looking forward to when they got home warming the usually busy room as they passed you. A sense of comfort and relief washed over you as you placed your go-bag on your desk. Hearing all your friends' voices back in the office after a mission was never a guarantee, so you relished every time you heard them, regardless of the conversation.

You looked up when a figure entered your peripheral vision, and that comfort and warm feeling spread further through you when you saw who it was.

'What about you, Y/N?' Spencer said by way of greeting, a soft smile gracing his own tired features. 'What is waiting for you at home on this fine Friday evening?'

You paused to think about it for a second, a content smile tugging at your lips at the thought. 'Well, unless I've been robbed in the last few days, I will be enjoying a nice glass of moscato while I order pasta from the restaurant below my apartment, and snuggle in with my book that I've spent literally months trying to finish,' you said dreamily, the thought of good food and good wine and a good book sounding almost too good to be true. But Garcia had informed the team before landing that no new cases had been submitted and so you had the weekend to yourselves.

'That all?' he asked, amusement dancing on his lips.

You chuckled, shaking your head. 'I know. First Friday night home in DC in a while and I am choosing to stay at home instead. The utter shame of it all.'

You both laughed, and it pleased you to see his amber eyes light up after the long week you'd had.

'I didn't mean that as a bad thing,' Spencer said, brushing a stray curl from out of his eyes. Even though it was the shortest length it'd ever been, some rogue curls still managed to dangle out of confinement every once in a while. 'What book are you reading?'

'Don't laugh at me, but... The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes.'

Spencer's brow furrowed curiously. 'Why would I laugh? I love Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's work.'

You shrugged, casually leaning against your desk as you crossed your arms. 'I know, it just seems a little silly that a federal agent is reading some old detective stories.'

'Actually, Doyle was one of the forefathers of detective fiction, as he brought in the concept that the science of deduction isn't just physical evidence but psychological observations. He created a space where all the sciences we know today can help in solving crime, and actually paved the way for more psychological avenues to be taken more seriously in academia and law enforcement. If you think about it, without Sherlock, you and I may not have our jobs as profilers right now.' Spencer paused when he realised he was rambling, and despite your soft, encouraging smile, he saw the tired blankness in your eyes.

Spencer licked his lips before speaking again. 'What I'm trying to say is... I don't think it's silly at all.'

You nodded your thanks although you knew you didn't need to. 'So what about you?', you asked in return. 'What will entertain Dr. Spencer Reid on this "fine Friday evening"?'

His words repeated back to him kept the smile on his face, more importantly the life in his eyes. But he began to fiddle with the strap of his satchel bag, and you couldn't help but notice he slightly swayed. Like he was nervous or something. It was cute.

He was cute.

You forced the rising heat in your cheeks to stay underneath the surface to not give away your embarrassment or your inner thoughts. Thoughts you'd been having since the day you'd met him six years ago. Thoughts that you'd suppressed so as to not interfere with your work, and then later so it wouldn't ruin your hard-built friendship.

When he told you about Maeve, you'd had mixed feelings. Of course, you'd been ecstatic for him that he'd found someone he could be himself with, and even more so when he disclosed to you that no one else knew about her - just you. But you couldn't deny the twinge of sadness that pulled at your heart knowing that that someone he could be himself with wasn't you.

But you hadn't hesitated, hadn't faltered when he'd needed a shoulder to cry on when Maeve was killed. Once he decided to open up and accept help, you were first in line to help keep the young doctor afloat in his sea of grief and loss.

It's been over a year since Maeve's death now, and while she would always remain important in his heart, he had, for the most part, moved on, slowly getting back to be his usual, quirky, logical self.

The past year and a bit has only brought you two closer together, and as much as you have tried to hide how amazing that makes you feel, you've had plenty of conversations with Penelope and others on the team about finally asking the boy wonder out. It's not like you didn't want to, but if Maeve was his type of girl, you just weren't sure you were what Spencer was looking for in a romantic partner. Besides, you were happy with your friendship.

It was by far the most precious relationship you had aside from your family - why ruin it?

You quickly realised you'd both been silent for a while, Spencer still not having answered your question yet. 'Spence?' you prompted gently.

The cute doctor managed to grasp his satchel strap fiercely and ground himself back in the present. 'R-Right. I too have a book at home. The one you got me for my birthday, actually.'

'Oh yes!' The Shining Girls by Lauren Beukes. You'd been hooked from the first line, and by the time you finished, all you could think about was how much you thought Spencer would enjoy it. So you instantly wrapped up your own personal copy and waited for Spencer's birthday to roll around. You never told him it was yours, you just hoped he didn't notice the slight bend in the spine or minuscule tears in some pages from you flipping them too quickly. 'I've been meaning to ask you if you enjoyed it or not. I just assumed you'd read it already.'

'We've just been so busy with cases lately. I haven't had time to even consider picking it up.'

You rolled your eyes. 'Come on, we both know you could've finished that book on one of our plane rides.'

He shrugged, eyes dipping for a moment before landing back on you. 'I know. I guess... I just wanted to give it the time and attention it deserved,' he settled on, and the honesty in both his words and his eyes threatened to steal your breath.

A silence that rested between comfortable and awkward settled upon you two. This had happened many times in recent weeks although you weren't quite sure why. Regardless of your hidden feelings and the tragedy of Maeve, neither of you lost your comfortability with one another.

'So... we've both got book dates tonight,' you said in an attempt to break the silence. The rest of the team was still chatting just a little away from them, but it felt like it was just the two of you sometimes when you talked.

'Well, actually, maybe...' Spencer started, and his fingers were twitching again. 'I was wondering if maybe you'd want t-to bring your book over and... join me, tonight.'

The request wasn't an unusual one. In fact, you'd conducted your own mini book club between the two of you on plenty of occasions. Mainly because you both found out you were the kind of people that liked your personal time and space, but didn't like the thought of being completely alone. This wasn't new, but it warmed your heart all the same at the gesture.

'That sounds great, Spence!' you said heartily. 'Give me half an hour and I'll be around at yours-'

'Actually,' Spencer interrupted, 'I was thinking we could grab some dinner together first. You know, like at a restaurant or some place you can sit in at.'

'...Like a date?' you asked softly, breathlessly. The words just kind of slipped from you before you even contemplated how they would affect Spencer. It just felt natural and right.

Your heart pounded like a jackhammer between your ribs, but you were more concerned at what expression Spencer would pull in the next five seconds.

To your relief, he smiled that small little smile of his that spoke volumes of his insecurity but also of his genuine intentions. 'Yeah. I guess it is like a date,' he finally replied.

Oh my goodness. He was nervous. His words were rushed and higher-pitched in tone. but you still managed to understand him, as well as what dinner implied.

A half-smile pulled at your lips. 'Dr. Spencer Reid,' you began softly, half-scared, half-excited to speak the words you'd been holding back for so long. 'Are you asking me out on a date right now?'

At your words, his anxiety seemed to disappear, as he stopped fidgeting with the satchel strap and took a daring step closer to you. 'I guess I am.'

You couldn't stop it now, the smile of pure joy you'd been holding back from splitting your face open. After years of suffering silently, of repressing the truth, it was all worth it for that one question.

'So what do you say, SSA Y/N L/N,' he quipped cheekily. 'Would you like to have dinner with me tonight?'

The answer was right there in the tip of your tongue, almost spewing from you, when your name was called out across the bullpen for all to hear.

The globe of silence and serenity that had built around Spencer and yourself suddenly shattered as you both, alongside the rest of the team, turned to Hotch standing in his office doorway. But while you all looked at him, his hard gaze was honed in on you.

'L/N,' he called again, having your attention now. 'Can I see you in my office, please?'

You looked between him and Spencer, unsure who to answer first. In the end, you were still technically on the clock so you nodded at your boss and said, 'Sure, I'll be in there shortly.'

'This can't wait, I'm sorry.'

It was the seriousness and discomfort in his voice that caused you to throw aside your personal agenda, giving Spencer an apologetic look before quickly making your way through the bullpen, up the stairs and into his office. You tried not to look at your team too much as you did, but you felt their gazes on the back of your head nevertheless.

They were just as confused as you were, then.

'Close the door,' Hotch instructed gently, to which you obliged. He pointed to the seat on the other side of his desk. 'Have a seat.'

'Everything okay, Hotch?' you asked, taking a seat in the chair. 'Oh no. Did I make an error in one of my reports again?'

'No, nothing like that,' he reassured you, which didn't help your already built up worry. For a moment, it was just you two sitting in his office in silence; you waited for him to explain his mysterious actions, while he seemed to struggle to find the right words.

He never struggled to find the right words.

You leaned forward in your seat, worry furrowing your brow. 'Hotch. What's wrong?'

'Nothing is wrong, so to say,' he insisted, but his frown remained. 'I've just been in contact with your old unit chief from Organised Crime. They believe there is an underground operation being conducted by gang leaders in Manhattan that involves the transporting, selling and purchasing of girls and women in the prostitute industry.'

'Okay,' you drawled out, more confused than ever. 'What has this got to do with us?'

'It doesn't,' Hotch answered immediately. 'Just you. Your old unit chief wants you back to go undercover in the case.'

'What?' You stood up from your seat instead of shouting, but goodness it took all your strength not to. 'Why do they need me? They have a whole squadron of agents to choose from.'

'They want a profiler to help them find out who these people are first, then go undercover and become part of the operation's inner circle and report back to them,' Hotch explained, although his tone displayed his displeasure in saying so. 'Y/N, you have more experience in undercover missions than anyone else on this team, even before you joined us as a profiler.'

You knew his words to be true, but the reality of it all was an ever-growing weight on your chest. 'What they are asking, Hotch, could take weeks, months even. Those kind of people will not trust so easily,' you tried reasoning with him.

You couldn't help but look through the blinds to your team still standing and talking outside in the bullpen. To Spencer, who had joined the team since you had left, but just looked at the window as if he could find out what was going on behind the glass and blinds if he looked long enough. It broke your heart to think you wouldn't see him for months, maybe even years.

Because that was the thing with undercover missions. Once you assumed the life of someone else, your old life became non-existent. That meant no contact with anyone outside of the case as a safety precaution.

That meant no talking to Spencer, or anyone in the BAU, until the case ended. Or unless you were killed, in which case you wouldn't be able to do a lot of talking anyways.

You turned back around at the sound of Hotch standing from his seat and coming around the desk to speak directly in front of you, no walls to hide behind. 'You know I wouldn't be asking if I hadn't tried to change their mind first. But even I can't argue that you are the best agent for the job.'

You nodded your understanding even if you hated to admit he was right. 'I guess it's not one of those jobs that I can decline, is it?'

Hotch shook his head regrettably. 'Head Chief requested for you personally. You've already been taken off the roster here at the BAU so you're not disturbed by other cases.'

Hearing that was just rubbing salt in the wound, and you hated the burning feeling of tears rising at the back of your eyes. You were already gone from here, like a ghost that didn't realise she was one to begin with.

Hotch's hand rested heavy on your shoulder as he comforted you. 'We can discuss your return to work when your mission is over. You will always have a place with us, Y/N.'

You attempted a smile, but it was strained as you tried to force back tears. You wiped at the strays that dribbled down your cheeks, pulling yourself back together before speaking again. 'All right. How long do I have before I am expected in the Big Apple?'

'There's someone waiting for you at your apartment already. They'll take you to their headquarters when you're done packing tonight.'

You sucked in air as you felt your whole world tilt unstably. Tonight. You had to leave tonight. Again, you found yourself seeking out Spencer through the half-closed blinds.

'So what do you say, SSA Y/N L/N? Would you like to have dinner with me tonight?'

You bit your lip as you blinked your tears away, trying but failing to ignore the cry of your heart as its strings were pulled harshly. 'Tonight?' you asked in the hope you'd misheard.

But no such hope existed, unfortunately.

'Yes,' Hotch said, that one word the final nail in the coffin of your impending suffering. 'I'm sorry. This goes without saying, but don't mention any of this to the team as you leave. Only myself and Section Chief Cruz will know where you are and the details of your mission.'

You huffed out a joyless laugh. 'Hiding truths from a team of profilers is like playing poker with a mirror attached to your face,' you said, and you didn't bother to hide your displeasure and sadness when you did. 'They're going to ask questions, and they will find out the truth eventually.'

'Let me worry about that,' Hotch said gently, letting go of you and leaving a cold mark where his hand once was. 'You've got bags to pack.'

'Right.' You sucked in a few deep breaths before making your way to the door. tears burned at your eyes again but you couldn't let the team see you like this. You couldn't let Spencer see you like this.

Because you had a job to do. And you always finished a job.

Before you could open the door handle, however, Hotch stopped you once more. 'Y/N.'

You looked at him, forcing an expression of blankness and indifference. 'Yes, sir?'

He must've seen your inner struggle, as he offered one of those genuine smiles of his that were oh so rare. 'We'll see you when you get back,' he said.

It wasn't a promise or a done deal, but it was the most hope you could ask for right now. So you smiled your thanks, nodded your goodbye, and opened the door back into the bullpen.

Immediately, all eyes set upon you and the room grew quiet. Your first instinct was to cry, then to run, then to blurt everything out because you hated keeping secrets. But you remembered what had just been said, and you whipped a bright smile onto your face to hide your despair.

'Don't you guys have homes to go to?' you asked cheerily, walking down the stairs as casually as possibly. You would've bee-lined for your bag, but if you moved too quickly they would suspect something. 'I recall hot baths and scotch were awaiting most of us, are they not?'

Thankfully Rossi took the bait, and picked up his go-bag in a huge huff. 'The lady is right. I spend enough time with you people as is, I am not wasting anymore not drinking and soaking.'

'Soaking in what? The bath or scotch?' JJ asked, also picking up her go-bag to make her way back to the elevator.

The group devolved into laughs and other jests, and you breathed a sigh of relief as you picked up your go-bag and followed them. Before you could though, a gentle call of your name halted you in your tracks, out of both politeness and frozen fear.

'Hey,' Spencer started, looking between you and Hotch's office. 'What was all that about?'

'Oh, uh, nothing super important,' you said, scrambled as you words were. 'Just a paperwork issue. Again.'

He broke out in smile that set your heart aflutter despite your inner turmoil. 'You know, you really shouldn't do paperwork on the plane when you're tired if you're just going to make a mistake. You're better off leaving it to the morning when your brain and body has rested enough to comprehend what the paperwork is asking of you.'

'Well sorry if I don't want to do a mountain of paperwork when I come back into the office,' you countered, grateful for the playful distraction as you made it over to the elevator. The others were just piling in when Spencer halted you again.

'So...' he dragged out, eyes flickering between you and teh floor nervously, '...what do you say?'

'To what?' you asked.

'To dinner. You didn't have time to give me an answer before.'

Shit. Your voice failed you now as you grasped at words - any words - to tell him. Your heart screamed yes, but there was someone waiting for you back home. A home you wouldn't be visiting for who knows how long.

Capitalising on your gaping mouth, you forced out a yawn and feigned covering it up out of embarrassment. 'Oh my goodness, sorry about that. Um, actually, now that you mention it, I am pretty beat. I'm just... going to go home and sleep it off if that's all right.'

It pained you to see his smile drop at your words, to see the hope leave his beautiful eyes at your rejection. And you knew you shouldn't say anything or make promises you couldn't keep, but you couldn't just leave him with no hope.

'Maybe next week sometime,' you offered, hoping your smile could bring some of that light back. 'You know, you've never tried the Italian Restaurant under my apartment before. We could go there. On me.'

Instinctively, you reached for his hand, relishing in the warmth it held and brought into you. To your relief, he didn't pull away. Instead, you got your smile back, and a little light returned to his eyes. You were kind of glad you wouldn't be around when the light left him completely.

'Okay,' he said softly, surprising you with a gentle squeeze of your hand in his. 'It's a date.'

'Yeah,' you replied, trying and failing to push aside the fluttering sensation his words gave your heart. You were only prolonging not only your pain, but his.

Selfish. So selfish.

'Come on, you two,' Derek called out from the elevator. 'I can't hold these doors open forever. Savannah will kill me if I miss our dinner reservations.'

You both quickly made it in to the elevator before Derek let them close on you, and then you were caught up in the chaos that was your team. You weren't sure how you got onto the topic of what scotch goes best with what foods, but you didn't care. It made you happy to know they never let the weight of a dark case get in the way of living their own lives to them fullest.

You all reached the car park and before you could make a run for your car, Spencer called out to you. 'See you Monday, Y/N!'

You turned back around to face not only him, but Derek, JJ, Penelope, Alex, and David as they all slowly went for their cars too.

You caught yourself staring at them, taking their happy faces in one last time before you left them behind. Hotch said you'd always have a place with the BAU, but you weren't sure how long this mission would take. And if you'd be replaced by then.

You forced a smile onto your face and waved them farewell. 'Yeah, see you then.'

You hated the bitter taste the lie brought to your mouth, but you managed to keep it together long enough that you got in your car and drove out of the car park without any more issues. That's when the tears came.

You wouldn't be there next Monday, and were not getting that date with Spencer next week.

It hurt you more to think that you may not get that date at all.

The Way Back Home (Spencer Reid x Reader) - Chapter One

The Way Back Home (Spencer Reid x Reader) - Chapter One Reader Insert: she/her pronouns Word Count: 4867 Warnings: major angst, major fluff, mentions of murder, graphic descriptions of dead bodies, crime scenes, near-death experiences, slow-burnish romance, death, canon violence, rape, swearing, guns, knives, prostitution, canon cuteness of the team. Spoilers: Maeve's death, mentions of previous cases or canon events from seasons 1-10.

Spencer and you have an unspoken connection with one another. Nothing has ever happened between you two, especially since everything went down with Maeve, but your love has grown and overcome and is now clear as day to everyone. However, just when Spencer builds up enough courage to ask you out officially, you're requested on an undercover mission that halts your budding relationship in its tracks.

Months go by without a word from you until bodies of prostitutes start showing up in New York and the BAU is brought in to help. Spencer and you finally reunite as both your cases collide, but your lives and your love are both on the line now.

Will you and Spencer be able to find the way back home this time?

Prologue | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Epilogue

~~~

In the bedroom of his apartment, Spencer fiddled with his tie as he looked in the mirror. He didn't know why he bothered though, it was always perpetually crooked. Something you always tease him about.

Teased.

He clenched his jaw at your memory. It had been eleven months since you'd left. Eleven. Months. You just... up and disappeared without a call or a note. Heck, he would've taken a text despite his adversity to how it was inevitably devolving people's interpersonal communication skills.

When he'd shown up to the office on Monday, he expected to see your dazzling figure with two coffees in hand - one for yourself and one for him - and that infamous bright smile on your lips. He hated to admit it, but he'd become reliant on you to always be there. You had only joined three years after he had, around a similar to time to Emily (who had been like a big sister to you), but even after others came and went, you had always stayed.

You had stayed with him. By him. He selfishly thought sometimes it was for him.

So when Hotch had informed him and the rest of the team that you had been offered another position with a different unit across the country, he shouldn't have been all that surprised that you had jumped at the chance to do something more than what you were doing at the BAU.

Again, selfishly, he thought that what you both did would be enough for you. It was for him.

He should've been happy for you despite how shocking the news came. But instead he was struck with an odd sense of open-endedness - no closure. If you were leaving, you would've said something... right? He wasn't the best at recognising social cues or reading people's emotions, but he couldn't have mistaken the smile you'd given him when he'd asked you out that night. It was joyous, it was relief, it was overwhelming excitement for the future. There could've been no faking that you felt what he felt and wanted what he wanted.

His fingers dropped from his tie, seeing no point in trying to fix it any further. Instead, his gaze drifted to his hair. It was long again, unruly curls caressing the top of his neck and tucked as neatly as possible behind his ears. You would always play with those curls as you gave him head massages when he was having his migraines, and kept the habit up whenever Spencer was stressed or tired. It helped him relax, it soothed him.

The image of you pouting whenever he got his hair cut short and close-cropped tugged his lips slightly upwards. He smoothed back the curls on his forehead. He had a random thought to just shave them all off. They were just another reminder of how much time had passed since you'd left.

He raised an eyebrow at himself in the mirror.

He wondered if he could rock the bald egg look.

He grimaced at the thought and shook his head. What the hell am I doing? He rubbed at his tired eyes before looking at his wrist watch briefly. He had to be in the office in just over an hour. So he quickly grabbed a suit jacket from his closet, but decided halfway to the kitchen that he would need extra warmth today and so turned around to grab a cardigan from his messy chest of draws.

He winced at the chaos of colours and material he found waiting for him. For a highly organised, intelligent man, he really could be a complete mess.

He wasn't looking for any particular one, but he absentmindedly sought out the regal navy blue one you'd gifted to him on one birthday. It was the most worn in his collection by far, having worn it multiple times a week (sometimes even consecutively) in the past eleven months. He fiddled with the soft material for a moment, and he swore he could still smell your perfume on it.

Vanilla Caramel and Peonies. An odd combination, but just the right balance of sweetness and freshness.

It was the right balance of you.

She's not coming back, he told himself, and his broken heart yearned for what could've been once more. He'd called you - well, tried calling you - for days, weeks, months even after you'd left. But he'd just go straight to voice mail, and you had never tried to call him back. It was like six years of working together had never happened, like they had never mattered.

Like he had never mattered.

He shook his head and dropped the cardigan in favour of an emerald green one that his mother had just sent him from one of her travels. It was oddly cold compared to yours, but at least he knew where his mother was and that he was on her mind, no mattered how disorganised it had become.

He wondered if he was still on your mind, wherever you were.

It didn't take him long to put on the green cardigan, grab his lunch from the fridge - it was just leftover Chinese from the takeout place down the street - and lock his apartment up before making his way to work. The drive to the FBI Head Quarters in Quantico was its usual, monotonous route, making it to the highly secured facility in under an hour. He entered the bullpen and went straight for his desk first, placing his satchel bag on it before heading for his safe haven - the break room.

They'd just closed a case yesterday and so he expected to be filling out a lot of reports today. Thus the reason for the copious amounts of sugar in his coffee he was currently making.

'Whoa! Talk about having a sweet tooth. Save some for the rest of us, Reid.'

Spencer looked over his shoulder to see Kate Callahan walking through the door into the break room, an amused and slightly baffled expression morphing her gentle features as she eyed Spencer's coffee making. She walked over beside him to grab a mug from the cupboard and poured herself some coffee from the freshly brewed pot beside Spencer.

Spencer spared her a tight-lipped smile. Not long after you had left, so did Alex. It was like a double blow to Spencer's trust system, with two pillars of reliance being taken away so quickly and without warning. Kate had joined the team soon after that, and Spencer was glad to see the past few months that Kate had slotted in with the team just as nicely.

But she sadly couldn't fill the you-shaped hole in his heart.

'Sorry,' he said, putting the sugar container down finally and began to mix what he could in with the hot coffee. 'Our days started earlier when I first started, and normal coffee just never did the trick for me. Now I can't have it any other way but tooth-rottingly sweet.'

She chuckled as she placed the pot down and drank it straight - no creamer or sugar or milk at all. 'Doesn't worry me. I'm a true espresso gal, but I think Morgan may have some issues if all the sugar somehow disappears.'

'I won't tell if you won't,' Spencer offered, tapping the spoon on the cup's edge before placing it in the sink. He took a tentative sip from the hot drink, and relished at the sweetness that warmed his throat.

Kate winked as she took a sip from her own coffee. 'It'll be our little secret.'

Before either could make a move to return to their desks - where no doubt towers of paperwork were waiting for them - the bright, colourful figure that was Penelope Garcia stopped by the doorway. 'Good morning, my beautiful people,' she said by way of greeting, although her smile didn't reach her eyes like usual. 'I know you all just got back but we've got another case. Roundtable when you're ready.'

Kate sighed with exhaustion but Spencer nodded his understanding. Paperwork soothed him, but he didn't necessarily want to be soothed right now. He wanted action, a distraction, something to physically do. Anything to take his mind off you.

'Looks like paperwork will have to wait,' he said, bounding after Penelope with Kate in tow.

'Don't sound so happy about a dead body, Reid,' Kate suggested.

'You don't know it's dead body,' he argued as he swung by his desk to grab his bag and rejoin Kate to walk towards the Roundtable Room, all the while not spilling his coffee. 'Statistically, it is more likely that there are multiple dead bodies involved considering we don't get called in for singular homicide events very often unless it's a high profile victim, in which case the unsub could be a highly trained assassin or of military background. But those statistics are another collection of data unrelated to serial killing, so it's more likely the case involves a serial killer, and therefore multiple dead bodies.'

The two of them entered the Roundtable Room to find the rest of the team already seated and Penelope standing in front of the screen, ready to present.

'What are we talking about?' JJ asked.

Before Spencer could answer, Kate cut in with, 'You don't want to go down that rabbit hole.'

'Okay, my pretties,' Penelope started, clicking a button to start the presentation. Three pictures of women appeared on the screen, alongside birth certificates and a picture of their dead body. 'We have three dead women: Anna Carswell, Petrina Summers, and Larissa Pembroke; and as you can tell from the pictures, their deaths were very messy. There are signs of sexual violence from what remains of their... um... mutilated nether regions.'

'They were stabbed?' Kate asked, her face pinching with disgust and sadness for the women. Spencer didn't blame her. There was blood everywhere including the walls of the dumpsters they were found in. It was enough to make him squeamish; he couldn't imagine what Kate, JJ and Penelope were possibly feeling.

Penelope nodded grimly. 'Yeah. Anna Carswell was the first victim and was only stabbed five times, but the others both have twelve stab wounds each.'

'So much rage...' JJ mused softly as she examined the pictures.

'That,' Derek started, 'or twelve is a significant number for the unsub.'

'Or he's trying to send a message to someone,' Hotch added. 'Look at her clothes, her shoes, makeup and hair.'

Spencer narrowed his eyes to inspect each area individually, but it didn't take a genius to figure out what Hotch was talking about. 'Styled or big hair; tight-fitting tops, skirts and dresses that leave little to the imagination; significantly high heels; and bold jewellery and makeup,' Spencer listed his observations pragmatically before looking away from the screen to address the others properly. 'I don't want to stereotype, but my guess is that they're prostitutes.'

'And boy wonder wins this round of Guess Who,' Penelope announced. 'All of them worked as prostitutes at popular establishments around Manhattan, but they were so far strung that local police didn't put the killings together until Larissa's body was found last night. The first victim was killed six months ago, but Petrina and Larissa make two in the last month.

'That's a bit of an escalation for the unsub,' Rossi finally said, having been quietly contemplating since Spencer walked in. 'Why the sudden increase in kill time, do you think?'

'Maybe he's impotent,' JJ offered. 'Maybe Anna Carswell was just an accident - see, look at the jagged and varied placement of the stab wounds. And for the past few months he's been trying to repress the urge to kill again, and some recent event has been his stressor.'

'JJ's right, Petrina and Larissa's stab wounds are cleaner, intentional. He's perfecting his craft,' Kate stated.

'Who called it in?' Derek asked.

'The first two victims were found by dumpster guys picking up the trash, but Larissa was found by a homeless man trying to find some food,' Penelope said. 'Local authorities have all callers in at their main office and are expecting you within the next two hours.'

'We'll keep debriefing on the plane,' Hotch said as he stood up, tablet in hand. 'Wheels up in twenty.'

Suddenly his phone pinged, and he took a quick glance at it, his face turning grim.

'What is it, Aaron?' Rossi asked.

Hotch pocketed his phone as he said, 'That was the New York FBI office. They've found another body. Wheels up in ten.'

~~~

Spencer stood across from the coroner with the latest victim's body laying between them.

Roxy Vega. Sounded fake, but that's who her brothel manager identified her as. She was the one to call Roxy in, but said that one of her girls was the one to find her. Spencer and Morgan were to go talk to her and the manager after looking at the body.

'She's the same as the others, poor thing,' the coroner said, her brow scrunching with displeasure. 'Stabbed to death. Twelve, to be exact.'

'Anything from the toxicology report?' Derek asked.

She shook her head. 'Hasn't come back yet, but I can guess she'll be like the others too and be clean. People think prostitutes would be similar to junkies, but the truth is it's usually whoever they're serving that put something in their system to... elevate the experience.'

Spencer and Derek must've been pulling shocked expressions, because she chuckled, putting her clipboard down on a table beside her. 'I used to do some escorting myself to help pay off medical school before I got this job. Nothing extreme like these girls, but the same principles applied.'

Spencer gave her a tight-lipped smile before pointing at the sheet. 'If you don't mind, can I look at the wounds myself?'

'Sure,' the coroner said, and delicately manoeuvred the white sheet covering Roxy so that it covered her upper body still. Even the dead deserved some modesty.

But Spencer wasn't perturbed by her female genitalia. He was more interested in the twelve stab wounds that scarred her lower abdomen and pelvic area. Six side by side in each area.

'That's odd,' he murmured to himself.

But Derek heard him. 'What is?'

Spencer hovered his pointer finger over each wound. 'Look at these,' he said. 'They're almost exactly parallel to one another, all in a row. And the cuts are all the same length, too.'

'Well that rules out our unsub being rageful,' Derek added. 'If he was angry when he killed them, the wounds would no doubt be all over the place, and varied in length if he did it in a frenzy.'

'So our unsub is cool, calm and collected,' Spencer mused, but something still didn't add up. 'There is almost something ritualistic about the placement. Like it's a symbol.'

'Well, he's definitely trying to send a message then,' Derek said, eyes drifting back to Roxy laying on the table. 'But who is it for?'

'And has it been heard yet?' Spencer added. The buzz of his phone prompted him to pull it out of his coat pocket and answer the call.

'Hotch,' he answered. 'Morgan and I have just finished at the morgue. The lines on the latest victim suggests that these could be ritualistic killings or a message to someone or even a group. The stabs were clean so the girls, well Roxy at least, would've been restrained or knocked unconscious before they were stabbed.'

'That changes the profile from a raging serial killer to someone who had these killings premeditated,' Hotch concluded. 'Good work, you two. Head down to the brothel to see the manager and the co-worker who found her. Local authorities took their statements but maybe they know more than they think or are letting on.'

'Okay,' Spencer agreed. 'What are you guys doing?'

'JJ and Kate are talking with the victim's families one at a time and Dave and I are at the headquarters talking with the officers and detectives who started this case. I'll ask them if they noticed the stab wound patterns, see if it means anything to them.'

'We'll call JJ and tell her the same,' Spencer said. 'Maybe the unsub is taunting the parents somehow and the key is in the stab wounds.'

'Okay. Call back when you're done.'

'Got it.'

Spencer hung up and turned to the coroner. 'Thanks so much for your help. If you could send that M.E. report to our unit chief, that'd be most helpful.'

'Of course,' she said, offering a kind smile. 'I'll keep looking for other anomalies, particularly if you think they were somehow restrained or unconscious before they were stabbed.'

'The mass blood spillage was just for show,' Derek said. 'I have a bad feeling these girls weren't stumbled upon by accident. There's more to this, and whoever these stab wounds were meant to warn is the key to solving who is behind all of this.'

Spencer quickly thanked the coroner for her time before he and Derek were out the door and in an SUV driving to downtown Manhattan to the brothel.

The Chateau, despite its name, was just a small sign hanging above a door that needed a fresh coat of paint about ten years prior. No doubt the sign would light up neon at night to draw in the locusts that were cheating husbands or deadbeat wannabes. But it was located on a busy street, and daylight made it look unassuming compared to the big billboards and towering office buildings around it. Just a hole in the wall, really.

'This place looks like a dump already,' Derek said as they examined the outside. Posters advertising all kinds of entertainment from the establishment were pinned to billboards either side of the door and down the wall where people stood in line to get in perhaps. But they were torn, like flyers from a travelling circus long ago.

'That's probably a strategic method,' Spencer said. 'It's what many opium dens in Shanghai used to do back in the 1920s to avoid law enforcement suspicion. Of course, brothels and even opium dens are legal today, but they now act as the fronts for more illicit dealings.'

'Right,' Derek said, reaching out for the door handle tentatively. 'Let's just hope that isn't the case today. We've got enough to worry about with four dead girls let alone some underground, black market bullshit.'

Derek wasted no more time in opening the door and stepping inside, Spencer right on his heels. But as soon as the daylight faded and their eyes readjusted, they both gaped at what met them inside.

Lavish gold and black velvet carpet lined the floors, swirling in intricate, flowery designs that made Spencer feel dizzy for a second. A settee sat to their left in a small alcove where gold curtains were pulled back, but Spencer took a guess as to why they would be closed at certain points. All the furniture were beautifully crafted pieces with a black gloss layer and gold lining certain edges that sparkled in the low light from the victorian style lamps hanging on the walls.

It scared Spencer how accurate he had sort of been. It felt like he was in a 1920s film noir club where gangsters met up to make and complete deals. Where they smoked cigars, and the showgirls wore sparkly, frilly, feathery dresses and patterned pantyhose. In the back of his mind, Spencer knew it was a brothel, that the gold and sparkles were just a front, but he couldn't help but be impressed by the attention to detail. Right down to the artwork that hung on the walls, all of which were from famous painters from the time period.

'They're amazing, aren't they?'

Spencer spun alongside Derek at the new, commanding voice that entered the room, and found a woman in her late forties to early fifties standing by a podium where the registry would no doubt sit each night for customers to sign in and out of. He had to give it to the establishment, it was committed to the act.

'Y-Yes,' he stuttered an answer, looking back at the painting in front of him. 'It looks like- I'm sorry, but are these the real thing?'

She laughed heartily as she sashayed over to them, the bellowing arms of her white, silk sleeves flowing gracefully with her movements. 'Goodness, no. The real ones are more than likely in a museum somewhere or hanging above the bed of some rich bimbo who doesn't understand what it is or who even painted it.' Despite the malice in her words, her red lips parted in a sultry grin. 'But alas, these do just fine. As do you, might I say.'

Spencer didn't like how her eyes raked over him and Derek ever so slowly, like she was some predator contemplating what part of her prey she should consume first. This is what JJ, Kate and Penelope must feel most of the time, he thought, averting his eyes as best as possible from the woman's snake-like ones.

He decidedly did not like the feeling it gave him.

Sensing his partner's discomfort, Derek reached into his jean pocket and pulled out his badge. 'Thank you, but we're here on official business only today.'

Those snake-eyes latched onto the badge, and it only took her half a second for her sultry smile to drop and to cross her arms. But not out of embarrassment, more like how a child did when they didn't get what they want. 'So you're the FBI agents I was told was visiting me today. How charming.' She held out hand to Derek, and Spencer couldn't help but notice how bare it was compared to rest of her. Long dangling emeralds hung from her ears, matching the beautiful emerald necklace around her neck. But no rings, or bracelets.

Odd.

'I'm Madame Lacroix,' she said, Derek finally taking her hand. 'I am the manager of The Chateau.'

She held her hand out to Spencer, to which he awkwardly splayed his hands up by his chest in a mock surrender. 'I, uh, actually don't do handshakes, sorry. Just a personal thing.'

Madame Lacroix looked him up and down from over her nose, which was an impressive act as she stood a good head shorter than him. After a moment, she dropped her hand and the matter, turning back to Derek once more.

'Madame,' Derek started. 'We just want to ask a few questions about Roxy Vega. We understand she was... one of your own for a while now. Is that correct?'

'Yes,' she answered, her painted face taking on a contemplative, even fond expression at the mention of Roxy. 'She'd been with us around eleven months. Some of the girls were supposed to take her out this coming weekend to celebrate. Geez, did those girls love partying.'

'How so?' Spencer inquired.

That snake-like gaze whipped back to him in an instant. 'They would have weekends away once every couple of months. Fancy yachts, expensive clothes, gourmet restaurants. One time, they went to the Greek Isles for a week.' She shrugged nonchalantly. 'But they could always pay for it. My girls are the best at what they do. So much so they are able to pay me and keep a good amount of earnings for themselves. And before you ask, everything is perfectly legal here, I have papers.'

'We're not really interested in that, Madame Lacroix,' Derek continued. 'You say Roxy was part of a, shall we say, an exclusive group in your establishment.'

'If you're implying that I play favourites, I don't, agent,' Madame Lacroix said, her tone dancing with silent threat. 'All my girls work the same hours, and relatively earn the same amount. It's completely on them if they decide to form friendships or alliances wth one another.'

'Was the girl who found her in that group too?' Spencer asked for Derek.

She nodded. 'Usually, Roxy and her girls don't let newcomers into their group. And if they do, it's not until they're a few months into working here. But yeah, Serena was pulled into that group from the moment she got here only three months ago.'

'Do you know where she was before The Chateau?' Derek asked.

'Yeah, she was uptown at a strip club, Guilty Pleasure. I know the guy who runs the place, and I don't blame her for leaving.'

Guilty Pleasure. The name rung familiar with Spencer, and so he pulled Derek away a little to whisper in his ear. 'That's the club Larissa used to work at.'

'And what are the odds that Larissa is now dead?' Derek added, eyes lighting with recognition. He quickly turned back to Madame Lacroix, urgency written on his face. 'Madame, there have been three other girls found in similar fashions to Roxy.'

For the first time since she entered the room, she didn't appear in control of everything happening. Her face dropped and a look of confusion and shock reflected in her eyes. 'Three other girls? Oh my goodness...'

'If you'd like, we can continue this talk in your office?' Derek offered, to which she nodded and began walking towards the podium, which Spencer now realised was in front of twin staircases heading downwards either side.

'I usually conduct private business at night, so my office is down in the Pit where I can make sure my girls are okay,' she explained as they descended into the a dimly lit bar reminiscent of the roaring 20s.

A giant glass chandelier hung in the middle of the ceiling, providing enough light to see the retro bar to the left, the cabaret setup of chairs and tables that faced the small stage at the far end of the room, and the empty booths where more settees and lounges sat with curtains drawn back for now. Again, Spencer was struck by how much it felt like stepping back in time. It was truly impressive.

Spencer halted, however, when Madame Lacroix stopped and turned back to face them, genuine concern furrowing her perfectly plucked brows. 'You don't think Serena has anything to do with this. Do you?' she asked.

'We don't know that for certain,' Derek answered. 'But we would like to have a talk with her so we can start clearing up this mess. Do you know where we can find her?'

She nodded, then pointed to a door over their shoulders. 'She's here doing stocktake for me today, actually. She does so on occasion when my workmen are busy with other jobs. A load just came in this morning. You can found her sorting through it out back in the loading bay.'

'Thank you,' Spencer said before turning to speak with Derek. 'I'll go talk with her while you finish here.'

'Shout if something goes wrong, okay?' Derek warned, to which Spencer agreed and made his way to the back door.

He couldn't stop his nose from scrunching as the scent of rotten food and heavy alcohol wafted up it. Giant bins were pressed against the far corner of the loading bay, but it wasn't a very big room, so the smell was easily detected.

Looks like the stocktake room doubles as the bin room, he thought as he stepped further into the bay, where crates were stacked taller than him with food, glassware, alcohol. Amongst the stacks was a shuffling of feet, then a hard thud that resulted in a harsh cry and an 'Ouch!'

'Hello?' Spencer called out while searching his way through the stacks. What did a brothel need with so much stuff anyways? 'Serena?'

'Over here!' a heavy Brooklyn accent replied. Spencer followed the voice, finding a hunched over woman cradling her exposed toe. She wore burnt orange platform wedges with jeans and a white tank top that left little to the imagination of a one Dr. Spencer Reid. Her hair was a puffy mess of curls like the blowouts back in the 80s, and it was so big he couldn't see her face.

'Are you okay,' he said, rushing over to help, but she just held up a hand, her face still covered.

'Yeah, yeah, I'm fine, doll,' she replied hastily, shakily. 'Just hit my toe, is all.'

'Well, here, let me get you some ice-'

'That's not necessary, hun. Really.'

'Well, at least let me have a look at it. You might've gotten a splinter in it or-'

'Stop.'

He was already bending down when the word hit him. But not just the word, but the voice that came with it. It was different to the Brooklyn accent now. It was... familiar.

The hairs on the back of his neck stood up as familiarity turned into recognition; and when he looked up from his half-squat position, he froze where he was and stared. Because the woman he saw wasn't an unrecognisable face of some girl called Serena.

His mouth had gone dry at the shock, and so he gulped a few times, trying to find the words he'd been holding back for months. But instead, only one word came to the surface.

'Y/N?'

The Way Back Home (Spencer Reid x Reader) - Chapter Two

The Way Back Home (Spencer Reid x Reader) - Chapter Two Reader Insert: she/her pronouns Word Count: 4514 Warnings: major angst, major fluff, mentions of murder, graphic descriptions of dead bodies, crime scenes, near-death experiences, slow-burnish romance, death, canon violence, rape, swearing, guns, knives, prostitution, canon cuteness of the team. Spoilers: Maeve's death, mentions of previous cases or canon events from seasons 1-10.

Spencer and you have an unspoken connection with one another. Nothing has ever happened between you two, especially since everything went down with Maeve, but your love has grown and overcome and is now clear as day to everyone. However, just when Spencer builds up enough courage to ask you out officially, you're requested on an undercover mission that halts your budding relationship in its tracks.

Months go by without a word from you until bodies of prostitutes start showing up in New York and the BAU is brought in to help. Spencer and you finally reunite as both your cases collide, but your lives and your love are both on the line now.

Will you and Spencer be able to find the way back home this time?

Prologue | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Epilogue

~~~

Eleven months.

Eleven months you had been Serena Vanguff: Brooklyn born and raised, with a dream to live life to the fullest. You'd built and sold your sob story of growing up with your single-parent mother and her single job income to six different clubs and brothels in those eleven months. You'd built up trust, inserted yourself into the upper ranks of each establishment. It had taken patience, precision, and a lot of self-discipline.

And Dr. Spencer Reid of all people was about to ruin all of that.

You hadn't registered the voice until it was too late. From the door of the loading bay, you could only make out your fake name being called, not who was calling. You'd been in the bay by yourself for most of the morning, the voice startled you so much you hit your toe on one of the boxes of spirits. But even bent over, eyes focused on your injury, you'd heard him as he rounded the corner, heard his voice, and there was no mistaking it.

'Are you okay,' he said, and you heard him rush over to help, but you held up a hand in the hopes to create some distance between you two.

'Yeah, yeah, I'm fine, doll,' you replied hastily, shakily. 'Just hit my toe, is all.'

'Well, here, let me get you some ice-'

'That's not necessary, hun. Really.' God, he was persistent as usual.

'Well, at least let me have a look at it. You might've gotten a splinter in it or-'

'Stop.'

You couldn't help it, your voice just slipped out. The voice you worked so hard to hide everyday. The voice you only let out in whispers or in the shower of your apartment to remind yourself you were still you. With him, it came out naturally, like it had never been hidden away.

He listened, but you knew it wasn't out of politeness. Spencer Reid had an IQ of 187 with an eidetic memory - he knew straight away. And when he slowly raised his head to look at you, you saw what he saw: a ghost.

'Y/N?'

You hadn't heard that name - your name - in months. The higher ups you reported to once a week didn't even use your name in case someone was listening in. You weren't prepared for the first person to call you by your true name after all this time to be the person you held most dear.

And the person you'd left behind without a word.

His voice was so soft; you'd always loved how he said your name. Like you were something to be revered and cared for. But realisation slapped you hard, and so you grabbed his head and pushed it down to make it look like he was looking at your injured toe. You also did it to avoid his shocked, pained gaze.

'Oh! You know, it actually does hurt a little, yeah. You're such a gentleman,' you said obnoxiously loud, holding his head steady as you bent slightly over, hair brushing his cheeks. Then, in a low voice you said, 'My name is Serena. I don't know you, and you don't know me. Make sure the cameras see that, okay?'

He nodded ever so slightly and you took his hand off his head. He slowly stood up, those amber eyes immediately locking onto yours. You followed him as he did, until you were craning your neck slightly upwards in a manner that pained you where it once was second nature. His gaze burned with so many unspoken things, but now that the shock had subsided, all you saw was hurt.

To his credit, he didn't express it verbally. Instead, he smiled a tight-lipped smile, slipping easily into his polite, greeting mode. 'Hi, I'm Dr. Spencer Reid with the FBI's Behavioural Analysis Unit,' he said, introducing himself like he would to any other person.

Even though you hadn't been expecting him or the rest of the team to be called in, it didn't take you long to realise what he would be doing here. 'Madame Lacroix said the feds would be coming around sometime,' you said, making sure you sounded both indifferent and concerned at the same time. 'Poor Roxy. She didn't deserve that.'

You held Spencer's gaze for what felt like an eternity, silently pleading with him to go along with what you were offering. You willed for him to see that you had many unspoken things to talk about with him, too. But now was not the place nor the time.

He watched you for a moment longer, his inner turmoil visible in his clenching jaw, his fidgety fingers. It warmed your heart when he tucked a loose curl behind his ear. His hair was longer. You'd always liked it that way. The last time you saw him, it was close-cropped.

Had it really been that long already?

Spencer seemed to silently agree with your logic, coughing to clear his throat before diving in with the questioning you both were more familiar with than your home addresses. 'How long have you been working at the Chateau, Miss...'

You plastered on a big smile, waving a hand dismissively at him. 'Vanderguff, but you can just call me Serena, doll. No titles except for Madame Lacroix 'round here. And about three months now.'

'Okay, Serena. Were you two close?' he asked. 'You and Roxy?'

You shrugged nonchalantly. 'Sure, we all are here. But I guess you could say there was a small group of us in particular that looked out for each other. You know, like sisters of sorts.'

'We spoke with Madame Lacroix just before,' Spencer said. 'She said Roxy and her group didn't usually let people in until they'd earned their keep. But you just... slipped right into the group?'

You didn't like how pointed his question was. It was passive aggressive, like he was having a dig at you personally and not your alter ego. You crossed your arms over your barely covered chest, your face pinching in an offended manner. 'What can I say? I'm a charmer.'

'Were you popular at your old establishment, too? The Guilty Pleasure?'

'Look here, doctor,' you said, daring to take a step forward, appearing to get up in his face out of annoyance. When really, you just needed to look him in the eye when you said, 'Instead of asking about me, maybe you should be asking about Roxy and what she was into that might've gotten her killed.' You surprised yourself when tears sprung to your eyes, the memory of finding that poor girl all bloodied and mutilated flashing forward.

You redirected your gaze to the bay doors, giving a subtle nod in their direction. 'Found her just lying outside in a pool of her own blood. I had the midnight shift so I finished at around two in the morning, but I'd forgotten my phone in my dressing room so I circled back around to collect it. But when I did... there was Roxy.'

Spencer followed your gaze, his expression softening as he took in the scene. CSU had finished up just before Spencer got there, leaving behind nothing but a dark stain where Roxy had bled out. You tried not to think about her cold, lifeless body now laying under a sheet on the M.E.'s slab in the morgue.

You were broken from that thought when Spencer turned back to face you. 'Did you see anything or anyone when you found her? Anything out of the ordinary?' he asked outwardly. But you heard his silent request: profile the unsub.

You shook your head, face falling serious as you fell back into old habits. 'I didn't see anyone, but her body was still warm when I checked for a pulse so the sicko who killed her must've just fled before I got there.'

'Or could've been waiting somewhere nearby to make sure the job was done,' Spencer added, concern morphing his handsome features. Concern, you realised, for you. 'What did you do after that?'

You'd wanted to notify your superiors straight away on your secret phone you only used to receive texts from your unit, never to. But you'd come to the same conclusion as Spencer and decided you'd have to wait for a safer time to contact them.

'I waited for a bit,' you answered, putting on a frightened front as you pouted and hugged yourself a little. 'Mainly because I was so shocked to see her just lying there. I mean, I hadn't seen her in like a day, but I just assumed she took a rest day to go shopping or something. Then I pulled it together and ran inside to notify Madame Lacroix. She was in the middle of a business meeting when I told her. She called it in immediately.'

'You did the smart thing, Serena,' Spencer said gently, offering a small smile out of comfort.

You nodded your gratitude. 'You know, people don't think much about prostitution. That those who sell their bodies don't love or respect themselves enough to get a corporate job like everybody else. But it takes a different kind of smarts to do what we do. Especially if its something we had no choice but to do.'

'Was that the case with Roxy?' he asked carefully, his words soft-spoken but full of double meaning. His eyes locked with your eyes now, amber upon (E/C). 'Is that your case, Serena?'

You nodded, too afraid to speak in case you cracked. Eleven months of hard work would not go down the drain because of your silly little feelings for the wonderful Dr. Spencer Reid.

You swallowed the lump in your throat because, you reminded yourself, you didn't know this man. 'You don't get to choose the cards you're dealt, doctor. Not in my line of work, anyways.'

'Had Roxy been acting off lately?' Spencer asked. 'Was she more anxious, more jumpy than usual? Did she think someone was following her?'

'I couldn't really tell ya. Like I said, didn't see her from the night before last until early this morning when I found her,' you answered. 'But that wasn't really unusual for her.'

Spencer raised an eyebrow. 'How so?'

'She took days off every second or third week - she was more a workaholic than the rest of us so she didn't have a designated rest day.'

'Do you know what she did on these days off?'

You shook your head. 'Could've been anything really. Shopping, spa day. Even figured she might've been visiting a secret boyfriend or something because she once came home with dark hickeys on her neck. But we're quite close as it is thanks to our line of work. It don't seem wrong to want a little privacy, so I never asked her about it.'

'Reid? You in here?'

The lump in your throat returned at the sound of Derek's voice, mainly at how close it sounded. You couldn't run away, so you steeled yourself as Serena Vanderguff ready to face the glorious figure that was SSA Derek Morgan as he rounded the stacks.

'There you are,' he said, walking up behind Spencer. 'I just finished with Madame Lacroix. How is Serena-'

That's when his eyes fell on you, and he pulled that same shocked expression Spencer had before. His mouth gaped as he looked over you. You couldn't tell if he was surprised by your appearance, or that he could hardly recognise you. Some days even you found it hard to find the true you underneath all the makeup and big hair.

Derek's gaze finally landed on your face, shaking his head in slight disbelief. 'Holy-'

'Thank you so much for your time, Serena,' Spencer intervened thankfully, flashing you a smile that resembled more of a grimace, and grabbed Derek's shirt to pull him back. 'You've been really helpful. We'll be in touch.'

Just for the cameras, you plastered on a Cheshire smile and gave them both a flirty wave goodbye. 'I'm looking forward to your call, doctor. But may I suggest that you keep asking the people upstairs, if you get my drift. They're the ones with answers.'

Derek was still too stunned to respond let alone speak, but Spencer held your gaze with an understanding that told you he knew what you really meant. So he just nodded and said. 'We'll keep that in mind... Serena.'

And just like that, they were gone. Spencer was gone. Again. You sucked in deep breaths the moment you heard the door open and they left, using the stacks to steady your exhausted body. You had not anticipated all that happening today, that was for sure.

The door opened again. You pushed yourself upright and steadied your breathing back to normal just as Madame Lacroix came to stand in front of you. Her billowy, silk sleeves slid down to her elbows as she crossed her arms over her chest, her frown giving away her displeasure.

'Did you speak with the agents?' she asked in a low voice. You nodded, prompting her to say, 'What did you tell them?'

'Exactly what you told me to say,' you said calmly, almost robotically.

Her frown lifted at your words, and she stepped closer to cup your cheeks gently with her hands. 'That's my girl,' she said, tapping your cheeks lightly before stepping away and walking back over to the door to the Pit. She paused at the door, green eyes piercing you even from so far away. 'Don't take too much longer, Serena. We've got real business to attend to, still.'

You nodded and she left, and you were once again left alone to ponder your situation. You were getting so close, but now your old team was involved. If you didn't expose these guys soon, your team would expose you.

And then you'd all end up dead.

~~~

'...may I suggest that you keep asking the people upstairs, if you get my drift. They're the ones with answers.'

'Reid... Reid... Hey, wait!'

Spencer stormed from the elevator, through the New York FBI office and into the conference room that had been set up as the BAU's personal office temporarily. There he found Hotch talking with Rossi and another man Spencer didn't recognise. But he didn't care who the heck he was, not as walked right up to them and said, 'Y/N L/N.'

The three men looked up at him, halting whatever they'd been discussing to give him incredulous looks. All except for the mystery new man.

'I'm sorry?' Hotch asked.

'You said she got a new job,' Spencer said lowly, almost growled out. 'That it was an offer she couldn't refuse. Now I understand what you meant by that.'

'What's going on?' JJ asked, walking through the door with Kate in tow. Derek closed the door behind them and went to close the blinds to the bullpen outside.

'I don't know,' Rossi answered, sitting up in his seat further. 'Reid, what are you talking about?'

'Y/N!' Spencer cried, curling his fists by his side so he didn't slam the table or break something, namely his hand. 'You made it out like she was happy, but she was forced to leave!'

Hotch's confusion quickly faded as guilt replaced it. 'That is classified information, Reid,' he said in a quiet voice very unlike the stoic and stern SSA Aaron Hotchner. 'How do you know that?'

'Because she told me herself,' Spencer said, leaning over the table that separated him and his boss. 'Does the name Serena Vanderguff ring a bell?'

It was the most emotions Spencer had ever seen his boss take on in such a small time, because his guilt turned into shock realisation as he turned to the mystery man on the other side of Rossi. 'Why didn't you tell me this was your case already, Steve?'

Steve. Spencer mentally ran through all the unit chiefs in the FBI and only one man came up with that name.

'Steven Holt, Unit Chief of Organised Crime,' Spencer said, eyes flicking to him as recognition dawned on him. 'You were Y/N's old unit chief before she transferred to us.'

Holt let out a sigh that said he knew he'd been caught. 'That's right. Y/N went on a lot of undercover missions for me back before she joined the BAU. She was the best of the best. I came down to inform you of the situation, Hotch...' Holt's gaze flickered to Spencer briefly before returning to hi boss, '...but seems as though you've beaten me to it.'

'I hate to admit that maybe my age is showing,' Rossi started, 'but I'm not following. What has Y/N got to do with any of this?'

'And this isn't old age,' Kate added, 'but I also am not following. Who is Y/N?'

Spencer's gaze flickered to Hotch, who seemed to be having an inner battle about what to do. He looked up at Holt for moment, and Holt nodded.

Hotch nodded back and stood from his seat to address the room properly. 'Eleven months ago, I was contacted by Unit Chief Holt about a potential underground trafficking network that dealt in young girls and women in the prostitute industry. Holt needed a profiler on the team to go undercover and find out who was in charge, then gain their trust, become part of their gang, and report back to the unit.' Hotch turned his attention solely on Holt. 'It wasn't my decision, but the Head Chief specifically requested L/N join the task force for this mission, as she has plenty of experience and success in undercover scenarios. I haven't been privy to anymore details than that, I'm sorry to say, since L/N is technically no longer part of the BAU. I trusted Holt would update us if anything had happened to her.'

'So she didn't leave us?' came Penelope's soft, hopeful voice. Spencer wasn't sure when she'd been phoned in - just now, or maybe before he'd even entered the room - but that meant everyone was there. Everyone was about to hear the truth.

'Not by choice, no,' Hotch said regrettably. Spencer saw and heard his shame, but he couldn't bring himself to feel sorry for his boss right now. Not when he'd lied to for eleven months about the one person Spencer thought would always be there with him.

'I can take it from here, Hotch,' Holt said, also standing to address the room. 'L/N was the best of the best when we first worked together, and these past eleven months have only proven that she still is. She has found proof that girls from each of the establishments she's infiltrated never existed before they were hired at their respective establishments, which for some of them dates back into their mid-to-late teens.'

'Let me guess,' Derek said, 'all four of our victims are some of those girls.'

Holt nodded grimly. 'We believe these girls were just the beginning of an intricate trafficking system where young girls are picked out from low risk communities when they're impressionable, then groomed in the formative years of their lives by their owners before they're given new identities and hired at their owner's establishment. Agent L/N has been hopping from one establishment to the next trying to get a better idea of who these people are that are running it. The managers of each establishment are buyers, but there is a big seller that they're paying that is still unknown. Agent L/N's mission, now that we have a better idea of the linkage between each manager, is to work her way through the upper ranks of the Chateau to find out who that seller is so we can shut down the operation for good.'

He spared a quick glance at Hotch. 'In fact, we think these killings are being caused by the same person. That's why we brought you and your team in, Aaron. The pressure of Federal involvement could cause them to slip up, and we'll be ready to catch them in handcuffs when they do.'

'But we've profiled the unsub as a sadistic, calculative narcissist,' Spencer argued, anger rising in him once more. 'Have you seen what he does to his victims? What if they find out about Y/N? Will she be the next dead body we examine? You have to pull her out of there now!'

'Spence, calm down,' JJ said, but Spencer just brushed her off.

'No, I won't!' he said, voice cracking with annoyance and frustration. 'Because it seems to me like I'm the only one who actually cares about her still. Like you all just forgot about her as if she never existed.'

'Trust me, Reid,' Hotch said gently. 'No one has forgotten about her. But right now she is still our best chance at bringing this whole operation down and bringing these girls' killer to justice. She knew the risks involved, and she's lasted this long. Have some faith in her, Reid.'

'Aren't you forgetting that she was forced into this damn operation?' Spencer spat back. 'She's risking her life because some higher ups were too coward to do the job themselves.'

'Reid, walk with me,' Rossi said, not giving Spencer a chance to reject the instruction as he walked around the table and grabbed his arm so forcefully it almost popped right out of its socket.

They walked to the break room, but Spencer barely registered any of it. His anger was a buzzing white noise in his brain, stopping rational and logical thoughts from computing with his mouth. His heart had a stronger hold on that, it seemed.

'Sit,' Rossi instructed Spencer, pulling out a seat for him to do so. Spencer silently complied while Rossi started to make two coffees at the kitchenette bench.

'...it takes a different kind of smarts to do what we do. Especially if its something we had no choice but to do.'

For eleven months he'd thought you'd left them, left him. Eleven months, anger and grief for the loss of his closest confidant had festered into an ugly, mad creature that's only reason for living was to be angry at you. But you and Spencer had always been good at reading each other, even when your words told a different story entirely. You were someone else now, almost to the point he almost hadn't recognised you underneath all the glitz and glam. But he'd looked into your eyes and he had seen you, your fear, your guilt, your apology.

You hadn't wanted to leave him. And it was that one thought that fuelled his anger at Hotch, at Unit Chief Steven Holt of Organised Crime for all the lies and deceit.

'One cup of sugar with a dash of coffee,' Rossi announced as he placed Spencer's drink on the table he sat at, then pulled up a chair for himself, his own coffee in hand. 'Just how you like it.'

It was then Spencer realised how exhausted he was. Between the early flight, the long car rides, and then seeing you, his body was screaming for a reprieve. However, he couldn't even bring himself to pick up the sweet concoction no matter how much he craved it.

'Eleven months,' Spencer eventually said, his voice meek and quiet compared to the rage it spat out minutes before.

'I know,' Rossi said glumly. 'I can't quite believe it myself. All this time... and she's just been here?'

'I just-' Spencer caught himself, feeling his voice crack at the threat of hot, frustrated tears burning at the back of his eyes. 'Surely they could've let her say goodbye. Or let her contact us from time to time. This isn't like when Emily faked her death and we all believed her gone.'

'You know they couldn't risk it,' Rossi countered. 'This is how undercover operations work, Reid. If she tried contacting us at any point, it could've been her on the M.E.'s slab alongside those girls.'

'Maybe they should've faked her death like Emily,' Spencer muttered, but more to himself than to Rossi. 'Maybe it would've been easier to think she wasn't out there somewhere and just choosing to ignore us.'

'You don't mean that, kid.' Rossi paused for a moment to think about what he would say next. Spencer appreciated that about Rossi, how he always spoke with thought and meaning behind his words. 'Look, I don't like being lied to either, but you and I both know the team couldn't have gone through another cover up like Emily's. Use that logical brain of yours and tell me I'm wrong.'

Spencer tried reaching for an argument, but even he couldn't grasp onto anything even remotely logical to argue with. So he remained silent, prompting Rossi to continue his lecture.

'I understand you and Y/N have something special,' he said gently. 'And I get why you're so upset. But Y/N is an incredible agent who has survived this long before we came into the picture, both before joining the BAU and now. We pull her out now, they will kill her; or we alert them that they have a mole in their network and they go underground and we never catch them. The best we can do to help Y/N right now is to keep playing along. We treat this like any other case, and the quicker we do that, the quicker we can get Y/N back. All right?'

Spencer remained silent for a moment, running Rossi's words over and over again in his head on a loop. Somewhere in there was an image of Maeve, and a sudden wave of sadness hit him. He couldn't go through that again, never again.

He clenched his hands into fists in his lap. It won't. I won't let it.

He forced his gaze to match Rossi's and he silently nodded. Rossi nodded in return, lips upturning slightly. 'All right then,' he said, and pushed Spencer's coffee closer to him. 'Now, drink. We're going to need you at your best if we want to solve this case and bring Y/N home.'

Home.

Amidst his dark thoughts, he found a sliver of warmth in that one word, and what it insinuated. That you belonged with them, you always had.

He took a sip of his drink and was pleasantly surprised at how it tasted exactly how he liked it. The surprise must've extended to his face, as Rossi chuckled and clinked his coffee with his. 'Don't act so surprised. I'm a profiler after all - it's my job to observe behaviours and habits. And you, my nerdy friend, have an exceptionally unhealthy dependency on sugar.'

'Actually, pasta has a higher percentage of causing heart problems in middle-aged to elderly men than sugar because of the amount of carbs on top of sugar is in it,' Spencer stated, taking a sip of his coffee without breaking eye contact with Rossi.

Rossi narrowed his eyes on Spencer. 'Comment on my age and love for pasta again and see what happens.'

And for the first time that day, Spencer smiled.