Spencer Reid Fluff - Tumblr Posts

Cuddle Buddies

Summary: Spencer misinterprets the meaning of the term friends with benefits – but having a friend who will cuddle with him is, in fact, highly beneficial

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader 

Category: Fluff

Content Warnings: suggestiveness (referenced/implied sex), embarrassment, awkwardness

Word count: 1k

Author's Note: I wrote this for @imagining-in-the-margins FWB writing challenge!

Masterlist

“Tell me, pretty boy. What’s going on with you and her?” Derek teased his coworker while motioning towards your desk.  

Acting like you didn't hear him, you kept your eyes focussed on the paperwork in front of you. But of course you were interested in Spencer’s answer too. For weeks you had been trying to figure out the nature of your relationship (or friendship?) with him. 

“We’re friends,” Spencer said and thought about his own response before adding, “With benefits.” 

Spencer, oblivious as ever, had heard that term before but didn't know its true meaning. The two of you were friends who occasionally cuddled with each other – something Spencer would consider as highly beneficial to the wellbeing for the both of you. 

His words caught the attention of everyone in the room. The snickering and whispering followed the second he finished his sentence. You could no longer pretend you weren't listening as you felt your cheeks heating up.  

“Excuse me?” You squeaked, clearly embarrassed by what he had just stated. 

It was not like you hadn’t thought about it before. In fact, most nights when you ended up cuddled up with Spencer under a blanket while continuing your Doctor Who rewatch, it had crossed your mind. But it had never happened and you weren’t sure why Spencer would lie about it. 

Spencer found your eyes, immediately noticing the horror written all over your face. “Did I say something wrong?”

“We’re not friends with benefits,” you mumbled, still in disbelief about what was happening. 

Derek couldn't hold back his chuckles anymore but JJ seemed to feel sorry for you and chimed in on the conversation. “Spence, I’m not sure you know the actual meaning of that term.”

She stepped closer to him before whispering what you assumed was the correct definition of friends with benefits. Once he realized his mistake, his facial features changed and could only be described as panicked. 

“That's not what I meant,” he stated what already was obvious. To deflect from the awkwardness, he started doing what he was most comfortable with - rambling. “I’m sorry, I just assumed that's what it meant. Our friendship does have benefits though, specifically the cuddling aspect. Did you know that nonsexual physical contact is very common among social animals? There are many health benefits to it, like lowering blood pressure, the release of oxytocin and –”

Your unit chief stepped into the room to interrupt Spencer and finally end your misery. “Guys, we have a new case.”

Spencer had to hold back a sigh of relief that this painfully awkward situation had come to an end. Both of you tried your best to not let it affect your workday, keeping up your professional demeanor in front of your coworkers. But neither of you could hold back the occasional glance at the other. 

It was hard to interpret Spencer’s expression when his eyes met yours. He had an apologetic look but there was also something else. Almost as if he had trouble holding back his thoughts from wandering to places that were completely inappropriate at work. 

You were very familiar with those struggles. 

It didn’t surprise you to hear him knocking on your hotel room door once your workday had come to an end. Spencer was predictable and you knew that he was about to apologize for embarrassing you earlier. 

When you opened the door, you immediately stepped aside to let him into your room. He had already shed his work attire and changed into sweatpants and an old Caltech t-shirt – a look not many people beside you got to see on him. There was a moment of silence between the two of you before Spencer finally found the courage to talk. 

“I’m sorry about what I said,” he mumbled. 

You showed him a soft smile and responded, “Yeah, I know.” 

“Are you mad at me?”

The question amused you. To you it was almost impossible to be mad at Spencer. You were aware that he never had any intention of hurting you. In fact, looking back you almost found his innocence and lack of discretion endearing. 

You shook your head. “Of course not.” 

Spencer sighed when you reached out your arms to hug him. He reciprocated the contact, immediately pulling you into his arms and holding you closely against his chest. There were many things left unsaid but talking about your feelings wasn’t really one of your strong suits. So you decided to suggest what the two of you seemed to be most comfortable with. 

You motioned over to your bed and said, “Do you maybe want to stay and watch a movie with me?” 

His smile was genuine when he responded, “Yes, I would love that.”

It was almost like the two of you followed muscle memory when you slipped under the duvet and turned on the TV. You found your place inside Spencer’s arms, your head resting on his chest, listening to the steady thumps of his heart. His fingertips gently brushed over your arm, leaving goosebumps on their path. 

Despite the positive effects Spencer explained about cuddling earlier, it was impossible for you to fully relax that night. He noticed it, too. 

“You okay?” He breathed as he turned down the volume of the TV. 

Before you could think about it too long, you heard your mouth spill out the question that had been nagging you all day. “Do you sometimes think about those other, more exciting benefits?” 

Spencer audibly gulped before clearing his throat. Instead of answering your question, he retorted, “Do you?” 

You shifted your position until you sat beside him and said, “Would it be weird if I said yes?” 

It seemed like your confession took him by surprise. Spencer took a moment to think about his response. First his eyebrows furrowed, then his facial features softened again. “It’s not weird. I think about it, too, sometimes.” 

That was all the confirmation you needed to boost your confidence for once. With your hand gently placed on his jaw, you leaned closer to him until you could feel the heat of his breath against your mouth. Spencer didn’t hesitate to close the gap between the two of you, finding your lips in a tender kiss. 

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Out of Sunshine

Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Summary: Having forgotten your dinner date, Spencer comforts his usually sunshine girlfriend Trope:Fluff & Comfort w.c: 1.2k a/n: been very overwhelmed with responsibilities and wants lately that I just needed to write a self-indulgent fic. Comments and reblogs are highly appreciated! 💗 masterlist

Spencer’s knock on your apartment door was met with silence. It was a starry Friday night and he had arranged a dinner reservation with you, his girlfriend for a year and a half, to the newly opened French restaurant along the main street. With a certain spring in his step, he settled with Hotch, and by extension the team, that he couldn’t be disturbed unless an emergency case comes in—something he silently wished not to happen. He had also picked up a bouquet of your favorites from the local florist. An array of whites that reminded him of the dress he first saw you wearing at the park.

He knocked again, ears straining to hear anything behind the dark wooden door. There was nothing. He balanced the bouquet on one hand and reached for the phone inside his satchel. It was quite unlike you to not answer the door.

The number you dialed is either unattended—

“Strange,” he muttered under his breath. During his morning phone call with you, a much needed routine to tide him through the macabre of his job, you sounded so excited about the dinner he’d planned and had even promised to wear the same white dress that had plagued his eidetic memory. He chuckled in reply before asking any plans for the day. There was a slight pause on your end, no doubt thinking of ways to pass time before night winds down, and you answer—

The studio, he remembered. You mentioned passing by your art studio to occupy time. He sighed in relief as he enters his vintage blue car parked on the the sidewalk, bouquet placed securely on the passenger seat. The clock on the dashboard tells him there’s still time to make it to the reservation, granted he wasn’t sure if you were ready to go.

A non-descriptive tune played from the radio as he turned left to enter the designated parking space of your studio building. It was a mixture of soft piano keys that sounded like spring and sunshine, both adjectives he loved to use to describe you.

When he finally found the courage to fumble his way in asking for your number, the smile that flashed on your face was blinding. It was as if he stared directly into the sun with little to no protection for his vision.

Over the course of multiple dates, he found himself waxing prose about you in his head. The pinking of your cheeks reminded him of strawberries ripening, so tempting to touch with his own pair of lips. The twinkle in your eyes, full of adoration and trust, made him feel strong and protective—like he was some kind of crow guarding his loot of sparkling treasure. And the bounce in your step wherever you’d go had him envisioning a sprig of wildflowers growing from each footprint, the nymph of his very own Spring.

He let himself in the studio, grateful you’ve trusted him with a spare key. “Sunshine,” he called out.

The light inside the four cornered room was on, windows all open for the paint fumes to escape, and there you were, hunched over an easel, furiously painting without any care of your surroundings.

He called your name, softer this time, as if to slowly ease you out of the artistic trance. The timber of his voice and his sudden presence led you to squeak in surprise, paintbrush dropping on the wooden streaked floor.

“It’s me, sunshine,” he raised his hands in front of him in surrender. “It’s me.”

Your nose scrunched up in question, a streak of blue dried paint on your cheek, adorable. How adorable you were in his eyes.

“What are you doing here?” you bent down to grab the brush before resuming your old position.

“It’s 7:50, love.”

You swiveled to face him, eyes wide in distress. Hands promptly reaching to turn over the faced down phone. “No, no—oh my god, I am so sorry!”

“It’s alright,” he tries to placate you but his words of comfort seem to fall on deaf ears. “Really, it’s alright. It happens to everyone.”

Tears were starting to build up in your eyes. Your hands were wrangling with the apron tied around your waist as you mutter a series of apologies again and again. “I’m sorry. So sorry—we can’t make it to our reservation now, can’t we? Spence, I’m so so sorry. I—I forgot,” a sob escaped from your throat. “I don’t know what to do.”

He puts down the flowers on the nearest available space, your stool, and steps into your space. Filling it with his perfume and warmth meant to comfort you. He could see how distressed you were—rocking on your heels, hands unable to stay put, and lower lip sandwiched in between your pearly teeth.

“Breathe. It’s completely fine, love. No harm done. Really, it’s alright.”

The tears come rushing down, staining your flushed cheeks with its tracks. “It’s not—how could I forget?”

“Sunshine, it’s okay. It happens to all of us and I know you’re quite busy, it’s understandable.”

You burrow into his chest some more, afraid of separating from him and the haven he brings.

He continued on. “I also know you’re overwhelmed, the exhibit is just around the corner and I know how important it is to you, I understand.”

Laying your cheek near his beating heart, you mutter a reply. “It’s really not—I don’t want you to think you’re not important to me too.”

His hands cupped your face to stare into your saddened eyes. Spencer couldn’t see the warmth and brightness that was always present in his sunshine. There was a cloud of rain and doubt covering its’ greatness. He understood no one could always be happy all the time but it bothered him to see you breaking down from stress.

“Shouldn’t I be the one worried about that?” he lightly joked. “I’ve cancelled on dates so many times and did those ever make you feel less important to me?”

“No. Never,” you sniffled.

“Then what makes you say I’d think that, sunshine? I would never, I promise.”

The corners of your lips lifted up to a small smile. There it was, the rays of sun peeking behind the clouds, bringing warmth back to the dark crevices of his being.

“I’m sorry about your shirt,” your lower lip jutting out in a pout. The air of anxiety slowly dissipating around you.

Spencer laughed, noting the tear stained marks littered on his purple button down. “That’s alright. Why don’t we order from your favorite Indian place down the block? We can get your favorites and have our dinner date here instead?”

“You’d be okay with that?”

He leaned in to kiss your temples, taking in the twinkle back in your eyes framed by your wet long lashes and the flush on your cheeks from emotion—good and bad.

For Spencer, you had never looked more beautiful. The reason behind of your breakdown was raw, intimate, and it made him see you in a new light. Heat bloomed in his chest, like a series of red roses, filled with love for you.

“Anywhere with you is good for me, sunshine.”

Comments and reblogs are highly appreciated!

Perfectly Flawed - Chapter 18

word count - 2.5k warnings - none. Summary: Lina and Spencer hang out, take 2…

After 2 blissfully boring workdays, I awaken to a bright, cool morning on Saturday. As I go about my morning routine, I put some music on and sing along. After a shower, getting dressed, doing my hair, and a little bit of makeup, I grab something for breakfast.

Checking the time, I let out a happy hum, seeing it was only about 8:45. I finished eating breakfast and quickly brushed my teeth after, making sure not to drop anything on myself all the while. Then I head out and grab my shoes, looking over my outfit in the mirror.

Satisfied with how I look, I grab my purse and coat and start heading out. As I slowly walk down to the sidewalk outside, I pull my phone out to give Spencer a quick text.

Hey, Doc. I'm going to start heading out. Venti black coffee, right?

I had just gotten past the door of my apartment when I got a text back.

Yeah, but just in case I get there before you, a grande mocha is what you usually get, correct?

Eyebrows raising, I type out a reply and start heading to where we're going to meet.

Yeah. How close are you, Doc?

I start walking a little faster, just in case he's already waiting. As I start striding to Starbucks, I get another text.

I'm still on the Metro, so probably not as close as you are.

Grinning, I slow down a little, trying to think of what to text him, when I get another text.

Sorry, I guess I'm just really excited about going book shopping. Especially with a friend. :-)

Smiling down at my phone, I have to quickly side-step walking into a pole. I then send him a reply.

That is absolutely ok with me, Doc, no need to be sorry. :-)

Still grinning, I jog the rest of the way. As I see the door to the coffee shop, I hear a, "Hey, Lina." from behind me. Turning around, I see Spencer walking towards me, a tight smile on his face and hand up in a small wave.

Grinning, I say, "Hey, Doc. Guess you were closer than you thought, huh?"

Breaking into a genuine smile, Spencer chuckles lightly and says, "Yeah, I suppose so. After you." gesturing with his hand to go ahead of him.

Heading into the Starbucks, we get in line to place our orders. Looking at the students that are there studying, I sigh and say, "Oh, thank multiple deities that after next week, I don't have to do that anymore..."

Spencer hums and looks around, then back at me and asks, "Hmm, what, study?"

I nod and say, "Yeah. Well, unless I wanted to, at least." I stop and think, then continue, "And unless I needed to update my license, I suppose..."

Spencer is quiet for a moment, then says, "W-well, I could always help you with that. I-if you want..."

I giggle and say, "Y'know, I may take you up on that offer when the time comes, Doc,"

He smiles at me shily, then steps to the counter and orders. When he steps aside, I tell the cashier my order, and as I go to pay, Spencer says, "Wait a minute, you don't have to-"

"I got this, Spence, don't worry about it," I say with a grin, swiping my card.

The barista behind the counter says, "Man, I wish my girlfriend would do that every once in a while!"

Momentarily stunned, I look over at Spencer, who is also left speechless, then back at the cashier and quickly say, "Oh, no, no, we're just friends."

Spencer nods and says, "Y-yeah, we're friends, we're no-not together. Well, I guess we are together, as in our order, but not, um, not as in, like, romantically."

The barista, whose nametag says 'Jim', says, "Oh, really? Sorry, dude and dudette..."

When we walk over to wait for our drinks, I look over at Spencer and let out a giggle. "What?" he says, eyebrows furrowed.

I take a breath and say, "It's just...I can't recall the last time I've ever been called 'dudette',"

Forehead smoothing over, he lets out a chuckle and says, "Oh, yeah, that's...I can't say I've really ever been called 'dude' before, either."

We're still laughing a little as our names are called. We get our drinks and I wait while Spencer puts sugar in his coffee. "So, did we want to start, or should we sit down?" I ask as he puts a fifth packet in and stirs.

"Oh, uh, we-we can start, I'm ok with that," he says with a small smile.

As we walk out, Spencer and I stroll side by side, and I ask, "So, um, where are we going first?"

"Um, the first one we're going to is really close, it's called 'Storybound'. It's right down the street." he says.

"Oh, cool! Have you visited it before?" I ask, sipping my coffee.

He nods and says, "Yeah, I've checked it out once or twice. Can't say I've been able to get to it very often, but it's a nice shop."

"Here we are," he says while opening the door, and we head in. We see a display of books, and on the other side of the building, a little restaurant is bustling with people.

Looking over the book selection, I murmur, "I have a feeling the books we're looking for won't be here, these look more contemporary..."

Spencer hums and nods, eyes scanning the book covers. I look over the shelves, letting out a quiet, "Huh," when I see that Stephen King is releasing a new book soon. 

"You find anything you like, Lina?" Spencer asks, walking over to me.

"Um, not so much, just noticing that King is releasing another novel soon," I say, getting a slightly confused look. "Stephen King," I say, and he nods.

"Oh, right! That makes sense," he says, gesturing at the poster, and giving me a tight smile.

I giggle, and we start walking out. "W-what?" he asks hesitantly.

I shake my head and say, "Nothing bad. I guess I tend to forget that most of what you read, there's no way the authors would be coming out with anything new."

As we head to our second stop, he says, "Hey, I read some contemporary books. Besides, there's a chance some of them might write something new, Bradbury and Vonnegut are still alive."

I chuckle and say, "My apologies, I stand corrected."

After a few moments, I ask, "So, this next place?"

He breaks out into a wide smile, saying, "Ah, now here, we'll probably find something. We're going to Second Story Books. It's a second-hand bookstore, so there's more of a chance we might find some of the books you're looking for."

I squeal excitedly, then say, "Sorry, I love old bookstores. I always feel a bit like an archeologist, like I might dig up some lost treasure of a book..."

He smiles and drinks his coffee, then says, "I know exactly what you mean. I-uh, I didn't really think I'd meet someone who felt the same way. About books, I mean."

I giggle and sip at my coffee, following Spencer to our next destination. Right before we cross the street to get there, we throw away our empty coffee cups. Then we head into the store, and there are books everywhere. 

Feeling like a kid in a candy store, I dart from one bookshelf to another, just looking at what there is. After a few minutes, Spencer walks over, biting his lip to keep from chuckling, but failing. "I can show you where the genres you're looking for would be," he softly says with a smile.

"Yeah, OK! Lead on!" I whisper loudly, following closely behind him.

As we scour the shelves, I manage to find a paperback version of 'Picture of Dorian Gray'. I quickly show Spencer, and he smiles and says, "See? I knew you'd find something here."

I continue to search the shelves, running my fingers down the spines as I silently read the titles. I go through several shelves, and bump into Spencer again, who's carefully holding a book as he reads it.

"Oh, sorry. I, uh, I found something. Well, technically, I found two somethings, one for you and one for me. Uh, here, this was one of the ones you were searching for, I believe." he says, closing the book he was reading, keeping a finger in between the pages he was on as a bookmark.

He hands me a book entitled 'The Yellow Wallpaper and Other Stories', and I grin and thank him. As I put it with the other book I found, I asked him, "What'd you find, Doc?"

"Oh, um, a rare printing of War and Peace in the original Russian," he says, showing me the book's cover.

"Wait, you know Russian?" I say, then stop and continue. "I mean, I don't know why that would surprise me, it shouldn't..."

He gives me a small smile, then asks, "Oh, uh, are you ready to check out?"

I chew on my lip and tilt my head, thinking before I say anything. "I-I am, but I'm having a lot of fun, and I kinda don't want to head home just yet..."

He gives me a bigger smile, one that reaches his eyes, and says, "Well, it doesn't have to end just yet if you don't want it to. There's always more bookstores we can check out."

He flushes, looks away, and rubs the back of his neck while saying, "Or-or some other stores. Maybe grab lunch or something?"

Grinning back at him, I reply, "I'd like that a lot, Doc. Do you know of any other nearby bookstores we could go to?"

"I, uh, I believe so, unless stores have changed since the last time I looked at a map of D.C...." he says as we head to the register.

"Oh, uh, I'm afraid I can't help with that. But, we could still check, if you wanted?" I say timidly.

"I'm ok with a little exploring," he says as he pays for his book.

"I'm cool with that, I can't say I've explored the city a whole lot, so it should be an experience," I say, handing over my books to the cashier and paying for them.

Thanking them as they hand me the bag with my books, Spencer says, "I'm pretty sure there was one just a few places down..."

Following him, we walk a block down and find a place called 'Fantom Books', and head inside. As we look over the shelves, we find a bunch of different newer books and a lot of graphic novels.

I walk over to a display sign that says, "The Classics: Updated!" and start looking through the graphic novels there. I turn and say, "Spence, come check this out!"

He strolls over, looks at the sign, then starts looking through the books. Eyebrows scrunched together, he says, "I'm...not sure how I feel about this. On the one hand, anything that gets people to read is amazing. But on the other..."

"It kinda wrecks it for you, huh?" I say, looking over at a few there.

"I wouldn't say wrecks it, but it's...not as straightforward a process as I'm used to," he says, then turns and gives me a small smile. "But like I said, if it gets people into reading, how could I complain?" he finishes.

I snort, and then a novel catches my eye. "Oh, no way, I didn't even know this was a thing!" I say excitedly, grabbing the book. "What is it?" Spencer asks, turning to look.

"It's Franz Kafka's 'Metamorphosis'. It, uh, when I was younger, my dad would have me do book reports when I got bored during the summer. I hated the writing part, but I loved the chance to read new books I normally wouldn't have. The last one I wrote before I went off to college was this one..." I say, trailing off, looking at the book and smiling.

I look up, and Spencer smiles, and I say, "It...holds a special place in my heart. It was kinda...the last 'kid' book report I had, I guess." I chuckle, then tuck it under my arm, and look through the other books there.

"Edgar Allen Poe...The Odyssey...The Illiad and The Odyssey...Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde...huh, Murder on the Orient Express." I mumble, holding the last one up to show Spencer, which causes him to grin, and I set it back down.

As I head up to buy the book, Spencer asks, "Hey, it's about lunchtime. Are you getting a little hungry?"

I chuckle and say, "Yeah, a little bit. What'd you have in mind?"

"I'm not really sure, but I know there are a few places close to here, did you want to continue exploring?" he asks with a small grin.

"Sound good, Doc. Lead the way!" I say, following him out.

We pass a few pizza places, a Thai place, and we come to a Chinese place, and I suggest, "Hey, what about there?"

He nods and says, "Sure, let's go."

We head in and order lunch, talking and laughing like we usually do when we have lunch. After we finish eating, we start walking, heading vaguely in the direction of where we started. About halfway there, Spencer asks, "You live close by that Starbucks, right?"

I nod, and he continues, saying, "Well, why don't I just walk you home then? Unless there was somewhere else you were going to go..."

I shake my head. "Nope, just going to do laundry. Luckily, I don't have to leave my building for that!" I say with a giggle. "So, yeah, I'm ok with heading home instead," I say.

Spencer smiles and softly says, "OK, then."

Grinning, I walk along with him. Making our way to my apartment, we continue talking, joking, and laughing. When we reach the front of the building, Spencer smiles and says, "I'm really glad we did this, I think I like just hanging out with you. Um, see you next week?"

I nod and say, "Yeah, I'm sure I'll see you at some point next week. Sorry again about missing out on this interview in Florida. But like I told Penny, after this week, and, well, I guess graduation day, I'm completely done. So, there's that to look forward to."

"Yeah. Good luck on your exams! If you need any help with studying..." he starts, and I laugh.

"I should be good. I'm usually good with tests, so it won't be a problem. See you next week, Doc," I say, bumping my shoulder into his with a grin.

He grins back, saying, "I'll see you next week, Lina,"

I wave as he starts walking away, then turn around and head up to my apartment.

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Sunset embrace

Spencer Reid x Reader || Fluff

summery; Reader, spends a romantic picnic in the afternoon with Spencer, at a picturesque park. They revel in each other's company, and savoring the moment and sharing cheesy banter under the setting sun.

This is my first fanfic I have written in a long time and my first one on tumblr, it's cheesy i know but i intended it to be cheesy! Please enjoy and feedback is gladly accepted <3

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"But why write a book when I already have my own real-life romance right here?"

A soft breeze blew past, causing the nearby park trees to rustle their branches. The sounds of children playing on the playground nearby, and the smell of pine, made this the perfect setting for a picnic. Spencer Reid, the brilliant young man that he was, glanced over at you with a small smile.

He was currently laying out the blanket that he brought from the car, all while keeping his gaze fixated on you. He thought about how beautiful you looked in the sunlight, how your eye color sparkled.

"Come sit down,"

he called out, patting the spot beside him. You, of course, complied with a smile and a graceful stride, sitting next to him. You watched as he opened the picnic basket. Inside were several food items, from sandwiches, to fruit, to your particular favorite snacks.

Spencer looked at you with a smirk, holding a small plate of your favorites. "I made sure to remember to bring these for you," he said to you, gently placing them before you.

"How thoughtful of you," you replied playfully, taking one of the items from the plate and taking a bite. You hummed in contentment, enjoying the snack. You noticed Spencer staring at you with a fond smile, his deep brown eyes full of adoration.

He reached out and gently pushed a strand of your hair behind your ear.

"You know, I've been thinking," he began, shifting so he was facing you.

"I just... I was thinking about how much I love being here with you. Like this." He gestured to the park around you, the other people enjoying their day, the sounds of nature and laughter. "It's been so chaotic recently with work, and... It's nice, you know? Being here with you, with no distractions, no... No stress."

You smiled at his words, feeling your heart melt a little. You knew how hard he worked. The endless cases and the weight of the Bureau on his shoulders. It was nice to see him relax for once.

"I know what you mean," you replied, reaching out to brush a strand of hair out of his face. "It's nice to have a moment just to breathe."

Spencer hummed in agreement, letting his gaze settle on your smile. The two of you sat in comfortable silence for a few moments, just taking in each others' presence. Eventually, he spoke up again.

"You know, you really do look beautiful in this light, you know that?" he said, lifting his hand to brush a thumb against your cheek.

You blushed under his touch, feeling your heart skip a beat. He always knew just the right things to say.

"You're one to talk," you retorted with a smile, "You look pretty handsome yourself right now. It's that park lighting."

Spencer's lips quirked up in a lopsided smile, and he let out a soft chuckle. "Ah, so it's the lighting that makes me attractive, is that it?" He teased, "How shallow.."

You rolled your eyes playfully and poked his nose with your finger. "Stop being silly," you quipped, "It's not just the lighting, but it does make you look especially handsome. Though, you know, you're always handsome, lighting or no lighting."

Spencer's smile widened at your words. He loved the way you complimented him, it always made him feel special. He was used to praise for his genius, but your compliments were different, they were genuine and heartfelt.

He reached out and playfully pinched your cheek. "You're too sweet," he said, "How did I get so lucky to find such a sweet person?"

You smiled, feeling your heart swell at his words. "I could say the same about you," you replied, lacing your fingers with his.

The air was filled with a comfortable silence once again, the two of you sitting together, enjoying the moment.

The sound of laughter and the breeze blowing through the trees was the only noise that surrounded you, and it was perfect.

You laid your head on top of Spencer's chest, sighing contentedly. He instinctively wrapped his arm around you, pulling you closer. He pressed a gentle kiss to the top of your head, his lips lingering there for a moment.

The two of you laid on the blanket like that for a while, simply enjoying each other's company. Every once in a while, he would reach out and brush a strand of hair out of your face, or gently stroke your arm.

After a while, the sky began to turn pink as the sun started to dip below the horizon. Spencer looked up, admiring the view. "The sunset's beautiful," he said quietly.

You hummed in agreement, tilting your head up to see the bright pinks and oranges in the sky. "It is," you said, "It's like those scenes in those cheesy romcoms."

Spencer chuckled at your comment. "Cheesy, huh?" he teased, looking down at you. "You think our relationship is something out of a cheesy romance movie?"

You laughed and playfully swatted at his chest. "Maybe," you said, "I mean, look at us. A picnic in the park, watching the sunset together. It's the perfect cliche romantic moment."

Spencer chuckled and reached out to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. "Yeah, maybe you're right," he admitted, "But if this is a cheesy romance movie, that means I get to say those cheesy lines."

You rolled your eyes, but a smile tugged at your lips. "Oh, really? Go ahead then, Spencer Reid, say a cheesy line."

Spencer smirked, seeming to revel in finally having permission to be cheesy. He leaned a little closer to you and spoke in a mock-dramatic tone. "Ah, my fair lover," he began, his voice dripping with exaggerated charm, "You are the most beautiful creature I've ever laid eyes upon. Your every move is like a symphony, and your laughter is more melodic than any song I've ever heard."

A grin smears across your face and laughter spills out, unable to contain yourself at his over-the-top performance. "Oh, please," you managed to say through your laughter, "Spare me the theatrics, Shakespeare."

Spencer grinned, clearly enjoying himself. "But my dear," he continued, pretending to swoon, "Can you blame me for being swooned? Your beauty is otherworldly, your wit knows no bounds, and your presence alone is more intoxicating than the finest wine."

You rolled your eyes again, but the smile on your face betrayed your amusement. "Spoken like a true Casanova," you joked, "You should be a romance novel novelist with the way you talk."

Spencer chuckled and leaned back onto his hands. "Maybe I should," he said jokingly, "But why write a book when I already have my own real-life romance right here?"

You smiled at his words, feeling your heart flutter. "Sap," you teased, poking his chest.

Spencer chuckled and grabbed your hand, lacing his fingers with yours. "Only for you," he said, his free hand going up to your jaw, his lips kissing against yours lightly, "You bring out the sappy side in me, you know that?"

Your cheeks flushed at his words and the soft touch of his lips against yours. "I can definitely tell," you replied, leaning into his touch.

The sun had nearly set now, casting a warm, orange glow over the whole park. The sounds of crickets and distant traffic filled the air, creating a soothing white noise backdrop.

══════❀══════

I do hope you enjoyed this! Like I said at the top of the fanfic, feedback and advice is appreciated and accepted!

jj one shot based on silver springs when 🤷‍♀️

i hate it when i’m looking for emily prentiss or jj smut and spencer smut comes up like wait your turn bitch i love you but wait 🤠

RAIL ME RAIL ME RAIL ME RAIL ME RAIL ME RAIL ME… anyways!

i lose brain cells every time i see this picture like you can put that hand somewhere else please and thank u!

Baby - Spencer Reid x Reader

Request: Spencer’s daughter tries to tell him that she’s “not a baby anymore.” He doesn’t take it too well.

A/N: I’M FREAKING BACK, BABY! It has been so long and I’m so very sorry. Here is some tooth-rotting fluff for y’all because I love you. I actually wrote this for the lovely @thekatherinewinchester​ as a part of @imagining-in-the-margins fic swap, and it was SO fun to write. It also really helped me to have a deadline. I think I’m going to try to do that more often!

Please leave feedback if you have any! Lots and lots and LOTS of love, as always.

Category: FLUFF

Content Warning: None

Word Count: 1.7K

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

The first time our daughter attempted to assert her independence, she had just turned 6 years old.

A morning routine with two young children was often chaotic, to say the least. However, the first day of school was always a special one. For some reason, something about this particular September morning made me extra grateful and reflective, even among the disarray. 

1 ½ year old Grayson sat in his highchair, babbling nonstop. Though he had only just started eating his applesauce, it completely covered his face and arms. Before I knew it, he was using his spoon to fling the food onto the floor. 

Was that an issue on the top of my priority list right now? Nope.

Ava sat at the kitchen table, swinging her legs and eating her cereal with the enthusiasm of an excited 1st grader. Her polka dot dress and matching headband were neatly and meticulously adjusted, revealing the hidden nerves within her initial excitement.

The small TV on the counter was tuned into the local news, though no one ever really listened. Even if anyone wanted to pay attention, Grayson’s babbling would probably drown it out anyway. It was mostly just background noise. But, selfishly, I liked to know the state the world was in before my husband left our home each morning to go make it better, safer. I liked to at least have some idea of what he was going to encounter, even if it meant certain days were filled with anxiety and worry. 

Dealing with the unease and stress was a small price to pay for the unceasing love and immeasurable happiness.

To be honest, I never imagined a world where I’d be simultaneously getting our children ready for the day and scrambling eggs for Spencer as he slept in after a long night of work. I never imagined his severe, draining job would let us have even a sliver of happy domesticity. But, as I scraped the last of the eggs onto his now-full plate, I reflected on how lucky the universe had deemed us. This shouldn’t be a reality, and yet, I couldn't imagine our life together any differently.

“Mama?” The voice of my sweet girl snapped me out of my reflective moment. 

“What is it, Ava?” I asked, momentarily pausing my motions. She turned around in her chair to face me, eagerness lighting up her small face.

“I’m really excited to go back to school.”

I couldn’t help but smile. She truly was her father’s daughter in every capacity.

“I’m so glad! You’re going to have an amazing day!”

Her bright, golden eyes sparkled, and she turned back to finish her cereal.

Spencer would definitely be up soon. There was no way he was going to miss the sendoff of his favorite girl on her first day of 1st grade.

There wasn’t a single doubt in my mind that Ava was going to blow all of her teachers away. I insisted on keeping her in kindergarten for her first year of school so she could make friends and get used to that type of social environment, but now that she was starting more difficult content, I knew all bets were off. She was absolutely going to skip grades, make breakthroughs, and undoubtedly change the world. 

But, thankfully, that was a conversation for another day, and one Spencer was undoubtedly going to have to help me through.

At that very moment, my sweet husband rushed into the kitchen, fastening his tie as he jogged. Even in his disheveled haste, the elation in his face and pep in his clumsy steps revealed that he was just as excited about this day as Ava, if not more.

Grayson babbled in the happiest tone he could muster at the sight of his daddy, and I couldn’t help but smile right along with him.

“Good morning, buddy!” Spencer smiled, crouching to meet Grayson’s eye level and pinch his chubby, applesauce covered cheek.

The tiny gesture took me back to a time when Spencer’s cares and worries were much different. Back then, he would never have thought to voluntarily reach for the grubby face of an infant, no matter how cute. But, six years and two kids later, this was a beautiful reminder of how much we had both changed, and how lucky we were to grow together and not apart. 

However, in true Spencer Reid fashion, as soon as he was done making silly faces at our son,  he padded over the sink to rid his hands of the sticky, grimy applesauce.

Everything may be different now, but some things never change. 

As I packed Ava’s lunch, I felt his eyes on me from behind. Before I knew it, he lightly turned me away from my task and wrapped his arms completely around me, leaning down to rest his head on my shoulder.

“Thank you.” He softly whispered.

Forgetting the rush of the morning for a moment, I let myself sink into the embrace. For though our lives plowed forward at seemingly a million miles an hour, moments like these kept me grounded, sane. 

“For what?” I asked.

“The extra sleep. The food. The babies. Everything.” 

The case they returned from last night must have been a nasty one. Spencer was a very affectionate person, but something about this profession felt heavier. 

Nevertheless, even after so many years, he still had the ability to make my heart skip a beat.

I pulled back from the hug to smile up at him, running my hands up his arms to get lost in his hair. His eyes reflected utter joy and gratitude, despite the fact that he had undoubtedly seen some horrifying things for the past few days. 

“I love you so much.” The words flew out before I could stop them. Of course, I meant them with my whole heart, the phrase just seemed so mundane compared to my ever-growing, aching love for him. 

The love in his eyes and sparkle in his smile told me he knew. He always knew.

He pressed a slow, firm kiss to my lips, hands coming to rest gently on my hips as we slowly swayed together. 

“I love you too.” He whispered, and before I could fully savor it, the restless world started turning again. 

Stealing moments with him would forever make my heart sing, but today needed to be about our sweet girl and nothing else. After all, according to her the first day of 1st grade marks the “beginning of the true educational journey.” Lord knows we couldn’t miss a second of that.

Spencer quickly walked over to the plate I had ready for him, setting it across from Ava at the table and kissing her head as he passed.

“Good morning, baby! Are you excited for your first day?”

Ava was silent. I felt the air in the room change as she put down her spoon and looked up at him, features completely serious. Somehow, I knew what was coming before she even opened her mouth, and Spencer was not going to like it.

“Daddy. I am not a baby.”

As expected, Spencer choked on the small piece of egg he had just attempted to swallow. In spite of the sad punch of the reality that my sweet girl was growing up, I nearly snorted, covering my mouth with my hand so as to not offend her.

Spencer looked absolutely dumbfounded.

“But, you are technically my baby-” He attempted to explain.

Ava was not having it. She took a deep breath, pushing her bowl of lucky charms aside so she could fold her hands in front of herself on the table. 

“The term ‘baby’ is applied to infants from birth to the age of 1, and then sometimes to toddlers from ages 1 to 4. I am 6 now, daddy, so technically I have already let you get away with it for an extra year.”

Oh, my girl. What a little firecracker she was. No one in the entire world besides her could silence Dr. Spencer Reid with one sentence.

Spencer sat there at a loss for words, fork still in hand, clearly trying to formulate a coherent sentence. 

“But…”

The school bus pulled up in front of our house with impeccable timing. 

“Ava honey, the bus is here!” I gladly interrupted, shoving the lunchbox into her backpack and zipping it up.

Her poor father. I had never seen his jaw drop for so long before. 

But, as always, there was no time to unpack in the current moment. That would have to be a later conversation. 

Ava excitedly got down from the table, running to put her dishes in the sink before grabbing her backpack and putting it on with complete elation. I lifted Grayson from the highchair, quickly wiping off his applesauce-covered face with the ratty old t-shirt of Spencer’s I was wearing. By that time, Spencer had slightly snapped out of his trance in order to help Ava put on her sparkly converse shoes and matching coat. 

The four of us were greeted by the autumn breeze as we stepped out onto the front porch. Spencer and I instinctively bent down to simultaneously kiss her cheeks, and she hugged our necks with the fervor of all the love in the world. She gave Grayson a small cheek kiss as well before turning away to start her new educational adventure.

“Have the best day, sweet girl!” I yelled after her as she sprinted down the driveway to the bus. She waved in reply. Though I couldn't have been prouder of her, I couldn’t help but notice the new missing piece of my heart that seemingly got on the school bus with her. 

It was at that moment that I realized Spencer hadn’t said a single word since his baby proclaimed otherwise. He still looked like he had seen a ghost.

“You alright there, old man?” I playfully nudged him with my shoulder, bouncing Grayson on my hip. 

“But she… she is my baby…”

I smiled, knowingly, trying to hide the small pain that struck my heart at the thought of Ava growing up. There were no words I could say that would calm his racing heart in the moment. So, I held our smallest baby a little bit tighter and leaned up to lightly brush my lips against Spencer’s.

“I know. Me too.”

Backup - Spencer Reid x Reader

A/N: Hi friends! Once again, it’s been forever. It feels amazing to be posting again. I hope you love this one as much as I do!

Please leave feedback if you have any! Lots and lots and LOTS of love, as always.

Content Warning: None

Word Count: 3K

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

Being a mother is the greatest gift.

In becoming a mother, I finally gained the ability to find things that have “disappeared” around the house, as only mothers seemingly can. I no longer shy away from spit, vomit, or digging various foreign objects out of little noses and mouths. My days consist of helping tiny humans, my tiny humans, grow, change, and discover.

Every single day involves a great deal of chaos, no matter what. Dirty diapers? Probably hundreds in the various garbages around the house. Countless tears? Good thing I can never say no to baby snuggles. Extensive messes? Considering the amount of madness that plagues the house “in the name of science,” perpetual cleanliness hasn’t been a priority for a long time.  

In hindsight, I really should have known that my children would give me a run for my money. After all, their father has three PhD’s, two BA’s, endless compassion, and enough strong-willed energy to survive prison for months. Nothing breeds pure mayhem like that combination.

And yet, I wouldn’t trade it for the world. Truly, deeply, sincerely, being their mother is full of countless blessings each and every day, even if the blessings are hidden in the midst of sickness, meltdowns, and pure exhaustion.

Today was one of the difficult days.

7:56pm

By the way Grayson insistently screamed (an all too common occurrence), I often wondered if he would blow out his vocal chords before he even had a chance to speak his first word. At the current moment, he sat in his high chair looking absolutely miserable. His cheeks were stained red from the heavy tears rolling down his tiny face. Normally he would be asleep by now, but this day had other plans.

Ava sat in her desk chair in the living room, silent tears rolling, sulking over the confiscation of her favorite book. The contents of her desk had been swept all over the living room with as much rage as her tiny body could muster. That day, she had talked back to a teacher at school. She was far too smart and curious for her own good. Though I knew in my heart she probably meant the correction out of the goodness of her heart, teaching her proper social skills was also one of my top priorities. I couldn’t live with myself if anything happened to her in school the same way it did to her father.

Her father. My person. My best friend and partner in crime.

He would be home any second, and I would finally have a single moment of relief from this day. For though Spencer spent countless hours invested in his job, he was an excellent team player, and fantastic father.

And in this moment, I needed my teammate.

8:00pm

Get to the bathroom. Solace from the storm. Get to the bathroom.

As I shut the door behind me, I started my mental timer. 30 seconds of peace. 30 seconds of alone time. 30 seconds to get it together before going back out to tame the madness.

I never thought I’d be able to drown out the sound of both of my small children sobbing, but this day had been full of surprises.

With shaky hands, I turned on the faucet and leaned down to splash the cool water in my face. It was refreshing, but not enough.

The bags under my eyes were more prominent than usual today. Great.

8:01pm

Grayson’s incessant wailing brought me back to the present.

Spencer will be home any minute. Any second now.

I can do this.

I threw open the door and went to my son first. His face was littered with tears, still crying as loud as ever. As I approached, he reached for me.

Oh, my sweet boy. He needed to be held. He needed to be needed.

I lifted him up and he immediately laid his head on my shoulder, still sobbing. His forehead was burning up. Go figure.

I need to take Gray’s temperature. Add that to the list.

“Ava, honey.” I tried so desperately to get her to look at me, but she was nothing if not stubborn.

“I want Daddy.” Her response was not surprising, but stung nonetheless.

Spencer always knew how to console Ava. They understood each other on some different plane of existence. As much as I loved that about them, now was not a good time for her to be shutting me out.

Okay, focus. Take Gray’s temperature.

As I shuffled through the contents of the bathroom closet with one hand, Grayson’s cries barely ceased. Finally, I felt the all-too-familiar thermometer box toward the back.

Rushing back out into the kitchen, I quickly opened the box and stuck the thermometer in Gray’s ear, much to his dismay.

Ava sat in the same spot, silent tears still rolling, misery evident in her features. Nevertheless, I knew I needed to focus on my sicker baby first.

“Ava, please clean up your mess before dad gets home.” I called to her, over my shoulder.

“Mama, maybe think about my unwillingness to follow your orders next time you take away my source of happiness.”

Ava didn’t move a muscle as she spat her response back to me. I thought the previous answer had stung, but this one cut deep.

However, with a sobbing, fever baby on my hip and a heaping sense of exhaustion, I was forced to let it go immediately.

Even with Grayson’s protests, the thermometer’s iconic beep sounded and the screen lit up with more digits than I would’ve liked to see.

100.5, no wonder he was so upset.

I was running out of steam. I needed backup. Turning to see the clock on the stove, I was surprised at how late it had seemingly gotten.

8:20pm

Where the hell is Spencer?

As if on cue, the phone started to ring.

“Hey.” I breathed into the phone, longing for my favorite voice.

“Hi, y/n? It’s Penelope!”

My heart sank. Though Penelope’s voice could always put me in a better mood, hers was not the voice I wanted to hear at the moment.

“Hi Penelope. I’m assuming my husband will be staying late tonight?”

“I’m really sorry, y/n. The whole team is really backed up on paperwork. He asked me to call you so he could finish faster and wouldn’t get distracted.”

I smiled at the classic Spencer gesture, but it didn’t stop the tears brewing in my eyes. I needed him. I so desperately needed him.

“No worries. Can you please tell him to call me when he’s on his way back?” My voice betrayed me, cracking at the very last moment.

“Oh no…” Penelope started, her voice ever so compassionate and understanding.

“No, I’m fine! Really, I’m okay. It’s just been a long day over here.” I attempted a chuckle, but there was absolutely no way Penelope bought it.

“I’m going to put him on-”

“No! Don’t do that.” My heart was screaming to hear his voice, but I rationally knew the FBI needed him more than I did in the moment. He saves lives, I hold down our fort. That’s how this works.

“Are you sure?” Penelope’s concerned tone made my heart lift a bit. I missed the BAU team. It was rare that I was able to see them these days.

“Yes. You need his big, beautiful mind over there more than I do here.”

Grayson chose that moment to let out his loudest wail yet. I would be surprised if the whole BAU didn’t hear it coming from Penelope’s phone.

“Listen, I have to go. Give everyone my love. Bye!” I stuttered out before abruptly ending the call.

My silent tears now matched my daughter’s. This was going to be a long night.

8:45pm

The lukewarm water filled the sink, and the screaming baby on my hip seemingly never ran out of motivation to cry.

Ava still sat in her same spot in the living room, arms crossed, furrowed brow that so closely resembled her father, and head down deep in thought.

“Ava, honey. Can you please help me?” My voice cracked again.

She heard it, she understood.

Guilty could not begin to encompass the feeling in my heart as she wordlessly padded to the bathroom to retrieve a towel without being asked. She was like Spencer in that way, somehow always knowing what I need before I do.

She was just a baby too. She was only five. It was absolutely unfair for me to be brushing away her feelings like this. Gray was physically sick and in need of immediate attention, but Ava was in emotional need. She was also like Spencer in the bottling of her feelings. She needed me, and I couldn’t be there for her.

“Thank you, baby.” Someday she won’t let me call her that anymore, but I was thankful that day was not today.

I looked into her golden eyes and saw her understanding in the midst of her pain. She shouldn’t have to fight for my attention. Without another word, she handed me the towel and turned around before silently padding to her room.

Grayson calmed down slightly when I set him into the sink full of water. It made my heart lift, but only momentarily.

If only I could bilocate. If only I could be enough for both of my babies at once. If only…

The opening of the front door pulled me from my thoughts. Keeping both hands on Gray, I quickly turned to see who could possibly be stopping by at this hour.

My knees nearly buckled at the sight of Spencer, a whole new wave of tears overcoming me as he shed his messenger bag and coat and rushed over.

No words were necessary. I loved that about us.

He pressed a brief, gentle kiss on my lips when he reached us. He knew how badly I needed to be held, but he also knew that it had to wait.

His eyes asked where he was needed.

Ava or Gray?

My best friend. My angel. Oh, how I love him.

“Can you finish up here?”

He nodded, immediately taking our baby out of my hands, all the while making faces at and talking to Grayson as he blubbered in the sink.

“100.5.”

“Got it. Go get her.”

There are no words that could ever amount to how much I love him.

Sweet Ava needed my focus now, and 1,000 pounds of weight had just been lifted off my shoulders.

Ava’s door was open, and I slowly entered. She was laying in her bed facing away from me, quiet sobs wracking her body.

My sweet, sensitive, empathetic girl. She shoved it down so I wouldn’t have to deal with her emotions in the face of my own stress. No more.

“Ava?”

Her sniffles subsided, but she still faced away from me. I silently walked over to sit next to her on her bed, reaching a hand out to rub her back. Surprisingly, she let me.

“I’m sorry, sweet girl.”

A new wave of tears came over her as she slowly turned to face me. Her red, tear stained cheeks seemed to get puffier every time I looked at her. Her eyes met mine for a split second before darting to the ground. She was still emotionally keeping her distance, just like her father.

Lucky for me, I knew exactly how to make her father feel better.

Wordlessly, I opened my arms, offering myself to Ava.

For a moment, she looked as if she was going to turn away from me again, and I felt my heart contract. But then, in true Ava fashion, her beautiful eyes filled with tears once more and she crawled into the embrace.

Before I knew it, her small arms were curled around me and her head laid on my chest, letting out the stress of the day in large, heaving sobs.

“I didn’t mean to.” She stuttered out.

“I know.” I whispered as I rocked my girl, much like I had when she was so much smaller.

Back and forth. Back and forth. Until her breathing regulated and her sniffles subsided once more. We stayed like that for a while, just holding, breathing, and healing.

“I was just trying to make sure Miss Sarah was giving us the right information.” She said softly into my chest. My heart nearly exploded.

“I know Ava. I know. Maybe next time we could phrase it a bit kinder though, right?”

Her head lifted so she could meet my eyes, sass and defensiveness all over her face. I raised my eyebrows, waiting for her sassy retort to further make my point. Her eyes narrowed, eyebrows dancing as she sank deep in thought.

Sometimes the amount of Spencer I saw in her was a bit scary.

Ava let out a deep breath, letting her head fall back to my chest and snuggling in once again.

“I could definitely find a kinder way to say it next time.”

The smile that lit up my face couldn’t be stopped.

“I love you, my girl.”

“I love you too Mama.”

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

10:06pm

I thought I knew what it meant to be tired.

I didn’t. Not until today. Not until the walk back to my bedroom from Ava’s.

The bedroom door squeaked a bit as it opened, but I couldn’t find it in my heart to care in the moment… as long as it didn’t wake up either of the babies.

Spencer was pulling on one of his old t-shirts as I passed, heading to change into my own set of ratty pajamas.

We went through our separate night routines like zombies, only breaking out of the trance when our tired eyes finally, finally met.

There is nothing normal about us. There is no possible way to look at each other after a day like this and say ‘hi honey! How was your day?’ like normal couples do.

But, in the midst of the literal insanity, I was reminded that those amber eyes were my rock. This home, our family, was built on the most solid foundation. Nothing and no one could ever take that from us.

And so, I took a deep breath and walked straight into my husband's open arms, holding tighter than I ever thought possible. My hands clutched his shirt like a lifeline, and his settled on my back so meaningfully I could’ve lost it all over again right then and there.

But I didn’t. I held it together, because this was my first moment with him all day and I was not going to taint it right off the bat.

I pulled away slightly, letting my hands wander to cup his face and smile, reveling in his neverending beauty.

“How did you get Grayson to go down?” I asked, genuinely curious.

“I started reciting Tolstoy in the original Russian.” He tiredly smirked, exhausted eyes barely staying open.

For the first time that day, I laughed.

The joke wasn’t that funny, but it sure was at that moment.

We laughed, and laughed, and laughed some more.

I laughed so hard that the tears couldn’t stay back any longer, so they came.

Before we knew it, his nightshirt was full of snot and tears, and the ugly sobs just wouldn’t stop. He held me through it, rubbing my back as the tears kept flowing. His hand made its way to my hair, holding me even closer. I could feel wet drops hitting the top of my head. He was crying too.

My person. My best friend and partner in crime.

We had made it through this horrible day, and we had done it together.

After what felt like forever, we pulled away, wiping away stray tears and silently agreeing that if we stood any longer we’d probably pass out.

As we snuggled into bed, legs and hearts intertwined, everything seemed to be looking up.

“Why didn’t you call me?” Spencer quietly asked.

“They need you.” I sighed, snuggling further into his embrace.

“That doesn’t mean you can’t need me too.”

I pulled away to meet his eyes. His eyebrows danced in thought, just like his daughter.

“We agreed on you saving the world and me holding down the fort. I failed today.” My fingers raked through his hair as I voiced my disappointment. Spencer wasn’t having it.

“You didn’t fail. I heard my baby’s ‘sick cry’ and was all packed up even before you hung up on Garcia. Everyone understands. It’s really okay.”

I tried to snuggle into him again, but his hands caught my face, forcing my eyes to meet his.

“You can't be the parental superhero all the time. You have to give me a chance too.”

If I hadn’t cried out all my tears before, I probably would’ve started crying again.

“Watching you become a father is one of the greatest gifts of my life, you know that?”

The smile on his face lit up the dark room, and he pressed his forehead to mine. We snuggled in close, finally allowing sleep to overtake us.

“Y/n?” Spencer whispered.

“Mm?” I answered, barely awake.

“What did Ava say to Miss Sarah today to get her so upset?”

I stifled a laugh.

“Let’s just say it’s definitely something she heard from her father.”

I need him between my thighs. Eating me so good. Legs shaking. Overstimulated. He doesn’t stop. He’s relentless. Hungry. It’s almost cannibalistic the way he consumes me. Drinking every last drop. Kissing his way up my hips just to go back down again.

comfort crowd

pairing: Spence Reid x agent!fem!reader

genre: hurt, comfort, mainly fluff

warnings: mentions of child death, mentions of kidnapping, mentions of suffocating, my shit writing, me <33,

word count: 848

summary: Spencer knows how hard child cases were for Becklynn and always requests to room with her (which he does either way), this case was probably the hardest for Becklynn. After 2 days into the case, Spencer sees that his girlfriend is nervous to sleep when she tries to avoid the topic at all costs. So, he decides to help her.

Becklynn loved her job so much. so goddamn much. But sometimes it was just too much for her and she couldn't deal with the pressure anymore. But she stuck with it.

After all, she met her all-time favourite person, her boyfriend Spencer Reid. The genius, the nerd, the encyclopedia whatever you may call him.

Becklynn never really sat right with child cases, she hated them ever since she discovered what they were. Which was at a very young age, 6 to be exact. Something related to her brother and a kidnapper if you will.

She always relied on Spencer to comfort her, as one who is in a relationship would.

Spencer just entered their hotel room after going downstairs and getting the bedroom another key because twenty minutes before he came back to the hotel, Becklynn sent him a message telling him to ask for the other key 'cause she'll probably be showering.

He heard her slow music playing from her speaker coming from the bathroom. Spencer immediately knew that she was in there, so he knocked on the door to let her know that he was back in their room.

After 20 minutes, Becklynn came out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around her body. "Hey, babe. Did I keep you waiting for too long?" She asked before walking towards the suitcases to get her outfit. Which were just a giant cardigan and floral shorts.

"Nope, you didn't miss much at the station either. Just everybody tired and cranky." Spencer said as he got up and went to hug her clothed back as she did her skincare in the bathroom, something they usually did.

"Oh, god. Sorry bubs," she said leaning back and turning her head back to face her boyfriend's tired eyes and kiss his 'button nose.' Which, as always, drove him to giggle.

Becklynn and Spencer started dating roughly a year after she joined, which was 3 years ago. 2 years were arriving in their anniversary calendar and she had a massive plan for him.

Both took a while to get comfortable in their relationship but once they did, they never ever looked back unless it was to make jokes. That was mainly cracked by Morgan.

Spencer noticed that Becklynn used a significantly longer amount of time to finish her skincare but decided not to say anything and potentially destroy the peace in the lavish bathroom, which they got since they got the honeymoon suite, free of charge by the hotel.

"I. Love. You." She said in between kisses as the couple cuddled while walking to the bed before collapsing on it. "I. Love. You. More. Times Googolplex so you can't love me more." Spencer stubbornly stated kissing his girlfriend deeply.

"Low Blow," she before she gently rubbed her pruned hand on his soft, relaxed face. He smiled and closed his eyes in bliss as his girlfriend dug her small head into his neck. He giggled when he felt her quiet, steady breath on his neck. She smiled before getting up and walking over to her everywhere tote bag. Which, obviously, she took everywhere.

Becklynn shuffled around her bag before getting her adult colouring book out along with her colour pencils. She deviously smiled before throwing the items previously in her hand onto the nearby coffee table and then proceeded to drag her boyfriend to said table.

He sat there and giggled as she judged all the colouring pages before settling on a complex one that she had forgotten that they started, but of course the genius didn't remind her, thinking it adorable as she judged the pages like she did whenever they coloured which was quite frequent.

After an hour or two of colouring, Spencer found himself dosing off while colouring before his seemingly hyper love woke him up once more. After a while, he noticed she was avoiding sleep. So, he picked her up and then set everything away to the side.

"Pumpkin, why are you avoiding sleeping?" He gently asked. She looked like a deer in headlights. "Of course, you'd notice. I don't even know why I thought you wouldn't. I'm scared." Becklynn rambled eating her words towards the end. But, Spencer heard every word.

"Aw, angel. You could've said so. Is it because of the child case?" He asked knowing her fear of sleeping since that's how her brother got taken away so long ago. She nodded burying her head into his neck for comfort.

"Bubs, I've got you and our guns are right next to us. We'll be fine. I promise. Now try to sleep, love bug. Okay?" "M'kay, I wuv you, Spence." She said closing her eyes and trying to find sleep as he ran his smooth, nimble fingers across her silky face. "I wuv you too angel bunny."

Becklynn fell asleep easily, through that night and multiple nights later, with her boy that she loved and knew he loved back. And every single morning the two would wake up early and buy coffee that they found at a local cafe about 2 minutes anyway from the hotel.

Im so fucking sorry it took so long bestiesssssssss but here it iss <33333

If u haven't noticed yet, i am a woman of many opinions. And guess what i have a new theory/ opinion that i need to share. It's about criminal minds to be more specific about the relationship between Spencer Reid and Maeve in season 8 (SPOILER WARNING).

So in 8x10 of criminal minds, spencer said that Maeve wanted to meet him and that he doesn't care what she looks like because she is already the most beautiful girl to him. Here the clip from youtube:

And folks when I tell u this boy got me blushing by saying this, because its so uncommon that guys think u r beautiful no matter what... especially as a chubby girl who's been bullied most of her life, stuff like what spencer said just does things to u. And believe me i know what i'm talking about.

Anyway back on track. The line from spencer made me blush and mad at the same time, because this and the relationship with maeve had been so much more meaningful when it really didn't matter what maeve looks like. And don't get me wrong, i like maeve and i love the relationship between spencer and her but look a her.

she is a very beautiful and in fact very skinny white girl. and this is not meant in any body shaming way, i think she played the role of maeve very well. But folks as a chubby girl i am hurt whenever a show gives the opportunity for a female character to be not conventionally beautiful but still chooses the saves option. With the sentence from spencer "I don't care what she looks like, she is already the most beautiful girl to me" the show Producers had the opportunity to create an unconventionally beautiful maeve. Do i make sense? Like instead of choosing a skinny, white woman with long hair, they could have chosen and chubby, black woman with short hair (for example). This would just underline the sentence from spencer in 8x10 and it would show how much spencer doesn't care about the looks of women. But now it's like "No wonder genius boy doesn't care about her looks when she is that pretty even in society's eyes" yk? This ist just something i can't stop thinking about... i would have like it more, especially since the opportunity was given and different body types/ black representation is very important (at least in my eyes). In my opinion this would've make the relationship even more special and so uncommon and beautiful... idk just a thought. Could be wrong though.

Let me know that you think about this and whether or not my rambling made any sense.

ANYWAY i wish y'all a marvelous day, kissies!

BYE <3 <3

Kinktober Day 7: Secret Relationship

Spencer Reid x you

Contents: fem!reader x Spencer Reid (Criminal Minds), oral sex fem receiving, flashbacks, ooey gooey feelings

W/C: 3.2k

Ok so I’m behind again, oops, but I’m proud of this one! Again, not the kinkiest but I got carried away with the fluff and I also got into a cipher-related rabbit hole so I hope you enjoy regardless :))

PS: This is also a love letter to pre-boyband hair season 5 Spencer, AKA my favourite hair era, as depicted below

Kinktober Masterlist | General Masterlist | AO3

“Do you want to grab some coffee?” A voice whispered beside you, a touch too close to be just colleagues. You smiled uncontrollably, heart rate picking up as his hand brushed across your back.

“Sounds good.”

That’s how you found yourself pressed against the door of the copy room, Spencer’s lips on yours, his hand up your skirt.

“We’ve got time, baby…” He practically whined between kisses, bucking his hips into yours.

“Spence! We have…“ you checked you watch absentmindedly, “5 minutes until briefing.” He grinned.

“I take that as a challenge…”

His head started to dip, moving to kneel down, but you grabbed his hair with a fake gasp of disbelief, pulling him back up to his usual height, looming over you.

“Oh honey, I don’t doubt you could, but I’m not sure these walls are soundproof.” Your fingers moved to his cheek, and he sighed into your lips, his hands returning to your waist and squeezing.

“But you left so early this morning, I didn't have time to start your day right…” You were grinning ear to ear, noses bumping into each other clumsily, and you whimpered into his mouth as his teeth grazed your bottom lip.

“I know, I know, I’ll make it up to you later, I promise…” You kissed him one last time with finality, pushing off the door and smoothing your skirt, but he was slightly less keen to leave, pressing himself against your hip as he helped straighten your hair and lip gloss. “I should probably leave first. You clearly need a minute.” He huffed behind you, but you had already slipped out of the room, heading into the bullpen as if nothing had happened.

You’d had a crush on him for a long time before anything happened. You joined the team a couple of years ago as a linguistics and code-breaking expert - something that was surprisingly helpful in the cases the BAU took on. You’d harboured years of butterflies, coy glances, occasional hand grazes… and you thought you’d done a pretty good job at hiding it. You’d known it was unrequited - he never so much as looked in your direction unless he was asking your opinion on something he was working on. It was starting to get to you. Your feelings had slowly been growing, swelling in your chest as you watched from afar, to the point where you had considered transferring departments. And then it all changed.

It was a case in California; a serial killer who was carving encrypted messages into his victims posthumously, only you had no idea what cipher he had used. You and Spencer had been working tirelessly for days to crack it while the rest of the team were searching for physical evidence, and it was a distraction you were grateful for. Even though you were working alone with him in close quarters, it was one of the few times you could briefly forget about your feelings, too consumed with your work to allow yourself to think about him.

It was night 3 of sleeping at the station. JJ had predicted it was going to happen, moving your go bags from the hotel to the precinct on the first day, and you and Spencer had been taking turns napping on the small couch whenever you physically couldn't keep your eyes open. You were sleep deprived and strung out, but you were close. You could feel it. You knew it wasn’t a shift cipher or some kind of alternate alphabet converted back and forth - you had exhausted every possibility of that days ago. You had been testing more complex ciphers, Garcia running everything imaginable through software to attempt to decipher it, but with no luck.

“What haven’t we tried?” Spencer muttered, pacing the room after a last ditch attempt at some kind of converted polybius square. Garcia was on speaker, confirming that she had tried every option available to her twice over.

“I mean, at this point, it could only be some kind of complex Vigenère cipher that somehow hasn’t been deciphered through Garcia’s software, or…” You didn’t even want to say the other option aloud - just the thought that three days work would’ve been completely wasted sent a shiver through your body.

“Or it’s a one-time pad.” Spencer said what you were too scared to, collapsing on the sofa with a sigh.

“A one-time pad? Is that the…”

“Unbreakable cipher. Yeah.” He confirmed.

“Unless…” A thought struck you, and you stood to the whiteboard you had set up in the room, scribbling down the ciphertext from the first body and converting it to numbers. “We need to think about this from the unsub’s point of view. He wouldn’t use a true OTP because if he truly wanted to hide this code, he wouldn’t carve it on his victims. But, the key might not be random.”

“Yeah, but then it would’ve been picked up on Garcia’s systems…”

“Not if each body had a different key….” You had written and converted the next two bodies’ codes while you were speaking, and you stood back briefly, showing Spencer what you had written. “We’ve been collating the messages and running them as a whole, but…do you see a pattern?” He paused, eyes scanning over the board frantically, and then he calmed visibly, a wave of realisation hitting his features. You smiled as he saw what you did, standing quickly and grabbing another pen to scrawl the keys beneath each.

“The Bible.” He whispered. “A Vigenère is hardest to break if the key is as long as the plaintext. Seven letters. Six letters. Nine letters. Genesis. Exodus. Leviticus.”

“It might work.” He nodded, brow furrowed in thought as he stared at the lettering.

“Let’s try it.” He wrote the corresponding letters as you did the sums, converting them back to the alphabet and - to your shock and relief - it was making sense.

P. L. E. A. S. E. H. …

E. L. P. M. E. I. …

C. A. N. T. S. T. O. P. J. …

“Garcia, can you read the last body please? The one we don’t have photos for yet…”

“No need.” Spencer muttered, writing it down without glancing up. You forgot how immaculate his memory was sometimes.

“Thank you.” It was seven letters. Perfect. You wrote numbers, he converted, you did the sum and muttered the letters aloud…

A. M. E. S. T. O. L.

“James. James ‘tol’? Is that a name, or the start of one?” Garcia asked over the speaker, but Spencer wasn’t listening, muttering to himself as he moved to the files quickly, flipping through them.

“No, I…” You answered for him, “I think Spence is onto something Pen…”

“Get Hotch on the line.” He barked, finding what he was looking for and bringing it to you.

“Hotch here…” A tired voice rung out in the small room just as you realised what Spencer was showing you, a gasp escaping your lips.

“It was David.” He breathed immediately, his words tumbling out at a breakneck speed. “The message on the bodies said something about James followed by T-O-L, and that reminded me of your interview…”

“David kept referring to a colleague throughout the interview, a James, that ordered him around a lot…”

“If he kills again, I bet the phrase would be completed. James told me to, maybe?” You mused, and Spencer nodded.

“Garcia, have you got his file.”

“Yes, I’m opening it now and… oh my god.”

“What is it?”

“He had a brother called James. Hung himself when David was 11.”

“And all of his victims died from strangulation.” The pieces had fallen perfectly into place.

“Address?”

The unsub’s home had been closer to the hotel, so Hotch and the rest of the team went to his listed address, leaving you and Spencer to wait nervously in the precinct. You were pacing frantically, knotting your hands as the sound of your heavy boots echoed throughout the room. Spencer cooed your name calmly, and you turned to him, blushing lightly. He was sitting on the edge of the sofa, leant forwards with his arms on his knees looking up at you with… a look you’d never seen before. Concern mixed with something else, something foreign to you. But it was gone as quickly as it had appeared, replaced with a kind smile.

“Just sit for a minute. Try and relax.” You nodded weakly, perching on the edge and trying to still your racing heart, leg bouncing and hands still twisting in each other with nervous energy.

“Sorry, I… I know we’ve done our bit now but I hate not being there when the team are apprehending him…”

“I know what you mean,” he muttered. You sat in silence for a few minutes, mind racing with what might be happening. What if he was armed? What if he’d decided to shoot his way out? They could all be dead right now, and you would have no idea….

Spencer’s phone rang. He stood, answering it quickly. It was Emily, and you heard him mutter a few affirmatives, smile playing across his features.

“Did they…” You asked as soon as he hung up, and he nodded.

“Yep, it went perfectly. He’s in custody, and they’re on their way back now.” The relief you felt was palpable, a sigh falling from you as he sat back down on the sofa next to you, sinking into it and resting his head back, mirroring your position.

You hadn’t realised your leg was still bouncing until his hand fell to it. Your breath caught in your throat as he squeezed lightly, stilling you effortlessly. He was so warm, slender fingers fanned out across the space just above your knee, and it took a moment for you to compose yourself. You turned your head, and he was already gazing at you, the mysterious expression from earlier back, his dark eyes meeting yours with warmth.

“You were incredible today…” He muttered, hand still resting on his leg, and you couldn’t help but blush. He was the most intelligent person you knew, and likely would ever know, and even without your feelings being involved, a complement from him was about the highest praise a person could get in your line of work.

“Thank you, but I couldn’t have done it without you…”

“Bullshit.” He whispered, and you laughed.

“Ok, maybe I could’ve, but it would’ve taken me twice as long.” He chuckled then, eyes scanning over your face with an intensity you only saw when he was trying to analyse something. It felt as though his eyes were boring into your skin, and you had to look away, heart near beating out of your chest. His hand shifted slightly on your leg, and oh sweet Jesus you just remembered it was still there. It had a strange affect on you - like when you put a harness on a cat and they suddenly couldn’t walk. You were frozen solid, trying to breath and staring at the ceiling.

Then his hand touched your chin. It was light, delicate, just guiding your eyes back to his and it wasn’t until that moment you finally realised what that look had been, the one you couldn’t identify. It was a reflection of what you had been feeling for months. The longing, the restraint, the need that swirled up inside you every time you stole a glance at him, and now, seeing those same emotions in his soft eyes, it was sobering. He wanted you too.

He moved first, gently pulling your lips to his and kissing you, light as a feather. It was tentative and sweet, so unsure and your body took a second to process that the thing you had been imagining for years was actually happening. And then you smiled, hands moving to the base of his neck, fingers twisting into his gorgeous hair and you pulled him back to you, lips clashing in a kiss full of years of pent up desire and desperation. You felt his body relax under your touch as the kiss deepened, his hands wandering to trail your waist and hips, before tangling in your hair and holding tight, pulling you closer. You had twisted until you were practically on his lap, hands falling to his shirt and bunching it up as his tongue finally hit yours, every bone in your body turning to jelly as you tasted him. It was magnetic, everything you had wanted for a long time finally coming to fruition and you couldn’t even break away for a second of air, so lost in him that breathing was no longer important.

And then the Precinct door banged open, and you jumped away as though you had been electrocuted. You laughed, cursing quietly as you tried to smooth your hair, tousled from his hands, while he just smiled, gazing at you.

“Spencer!” You whisper-shouted at him, still grinning uncontrollably, and he finally moved, straightening his shirt and placing his jacket over his lap. You giggled like a school girl, standing and moving to the whiteboard to try and convey a more believable working situation, and to put some distance between you and him, not sure how well you’d be able to hide your smile if he was so close to you.

You still jumped when Rossi opened the door to the room, although, you were more surprised when he didn’t speak. You turned to him, confused, and he pointed at Spencer. When you followed his eye line, you realised he was pretending to sleep, head slouched to one side and mouth slightly parted. He looked beautiful.

It had been six months, and you were stronger than ever. You honestly weren't sure how you were still keeping it a secret. You had had years of practice when you were just pining after him, sure, but it was a hell of a lot harder to not give anything away when every time you looked at him, you got flashbacks to the night before. Even if the team somehow did suss out a vibe, no one said anything, which was something you were grateful for. Spence was a lot better than you at masking his feelings, so anyone who noticed something probably assumed you just had a crush on him. Which was true enough.

You had managed to avoid looking at him the entire briefing, which was honestly a miracle, but your mind was ever so slightly distracted by your rendezvous in the copy room. As JJ spoke, you heard something about male victims, and she might have mentioned Tennessee, but all you could think about was that travel meant your date night plans were cancelled. And you were always cautious in hotels - too close to your other colleagues. It was hit or miss; sometimes, the fear of it was fun, the idea that someone could knock and catch you in the act, but if you had adjoining rooms with any of your teammates… well, them hearing you scream his name might just be a bit awkward. So, naturally, all you could think about now was finishing what you started earlier. You wanted this meeting to be over, to get him somewhere private and to let him completely wreck you before the long plane ride, to get this idea out of your head so you could focus on the case at hand. And then, at last, came the magic words…

“Wheels up in 20.”

The team dispersed quickly, and you caught Spencer’s sleeve just before he left the room.

“My car?” You muttered, earning a grin.

“Change your mind, baby?”

“Shut up.” You smiled. “I’ll meet you down there…”

“What’re you doing?” You practically whimpered, as he opened the passenger door instead of joining you in the backseat. He chuckled.

“Just making space.” You were about to ask what for, when he deftly moved the seat forwards, before getting in the back. Oh. You grinned as he pressed his lips to yours with hunger, backing you into the corner and you let yourself be dwarfed by him. His fingers trailed your collarbone, to your waist, and gripping onto your thigh with urgency. You whined as his lips left yours, earning another soft laugh. He managed to fit his tall frame mostly in the footwell, pushing your skirt up to your hips as you bit your lip, admiring him. He was so beautiful, the way his hair fell over his face, his earnest eyes, almost pleading in the way he looked up at you, his long fingers that so deftly moved your panties to one side.

“Can you…” he muttered gesturing to his hair, and you giggled, hand running through the front locks and holding them away from his face. Your leg draped over his back as his head dipped, tongue going straight to your folds, lips circling your core and kissing your sensitive bud with a hum of contentment. Your body relaxed into him, moan escaping your lips. He’d always been enthusiastic about eating you out, and you’d never complained about it. He was good. Really good. And today was no different.

He was lapping you up, relishing every taste and you were getting closer to your orgasm with every circle around your clit, cunt clenching around nothing.

“Spence…” you managed to gasp out, writhing in the seat, “fingers…” He didn’t hesitate for a second, one of the hands firmly holding your thighs apart trailed down to your centre, two fingers slipping into your soaking core. Your groan was filthy as he found that spot that made your toes curl with such perfect precision it was blinding.

“Oh god Spencer…” you choked out between moans and pants… “baby I’m so close…” Your hands tightened in his hair, pulling him closer, and he groaned into you, sending a wave of pleasure through you that sent you over the edge into that searing hot pleasure you were so used to receiving from him. He held onto you as you rode it out, his tongue still circling you until you were finished, finally stopping when you started to whine and squirm from overstimulation.

“Fucking hell, Spence.” You muttered, as he gently returned your panties and carefully let your skirt fall back around you. You watched in awe as he quickly licked his fingers clean, but it was mostly pointless, as his lips and chin were covered in your slick. You giggled.

“You might have to rinse your face before you join the team.” He grinned, pressing his lips to yours with force, and you could taste yourself on his tongue, making you hum into him.

“Now you will too.”

After a quick clean-up in the parking lot toilets, you both joined the rest of the team, entrances tactically staggered. For once, you couldn’t help but look at him, stealing glances as much as possible, watching as his hands scanned pages as he read and all you could think about is what those hands were doing to you just minutes earlier.

When you started looking into the case, you would be focussed, fully invested, but… you just wanted to stay in this headspace a moment longer. A happy one. A scary one still, for sure, but a fun kind of scary. A hopeful kind of scary. It was peaceful. And peaceful moments were rare in your line of work. His eyes caught yours, sending you a soft smile, and you knew you were in for the long haul, no matter how many people you had to lie or, or how much time you had to hide it for. It was all worth it for the moments of peace with him.

Taglist 🩵 - @emma-e-a

Spencer Reid - Think of Me

Warnings: fluff, reader missing boyf!spencer, sweet!girlfriend x stargazed!spencer, this is just what I need irl

Words: 1.0k

Summary: Spencer thinks of his girlfriend, Y/N, as the sweetest woman he has ever met. When he came home late from work, he notices something about her that makes his heart flutter and makes him realize how much he loves her more every single day.

A/N: This is fairly inspired by Too Sweet from Hozier. I feel like I don't see enough Spencer Reid fluff on here so why not! Hope u enjoy xx

Spencer and Y/N had met when she started working at the BAU, a couple of years after Spencer settled into the team himself. He had always noticed how she smiled at everybody, spreading sweetness all around her without even noticing. He was smitten by her in a matter of weeks, stealing glances at the prettiest girl he had ever seen in his life.

Y/N always treated Spencer as an adult, which is something that made him feel confident and he appreciated that about her. She brought him coffee and had noted how he liked it, brought him sweets and left him notes when he had a hard day. All those things that she did for him made him, eventually fall deeply in love with her.

After a year of getting to know Y/N, Spencer finally had the courage to take her out on a date. She wanted nothing more than to go out with him, agreeing with the sweetest smile she could give him. They both had a wonderful time, going out for dinner and heading to a poetry reading after.

He took her home, brushing a soft strand of her hair behind her ear, making her smile. Y/N reached up to meet his height, kissing his lips softly with a soft blush on both of their cheeks and his arm wrapped up loosely around her waist.

Spencer asked her to be his girlfriend after their third date together, which she whole-heartedly accepted, smiling wildly.

Three years had now passed, they had moved together, adopted a cat and lived their little life together. He couldn’t be happier when he had her in his life. She was so sweet to him, like a ray of sunshine on the cloudiest of days. She was the light of his life, and as was he to her.

She loved every single moment of her life with him. She loved the quiet evening of them reading and enjoying their tea in their living room. She thrived for their Friday nights, watching a movie with their cat on Spencer’s lap, purring loudly on his thighs. She loved having him around, the acts of services and his craving for physical touch.

She loved every single part of him, even the ones that he didn’t like the most himself.

One night, Y/N got the night off from a case and stayed at their apartment. It had been a long week for both of them, but Hotcher decided they had enough men on the field to let Y/N, JJ and Garcia get some rest. Spencer, Morgan, Rossi and Hotch stayed, Spencer telling her he would be back in the morning.  

Y/N had decided to sleep in early, exhausted both mentally and physically from her day. She got ready for bed, but it didn’t feel the same when Spencer wasn’t here. Their cat came to her for cuddles, but it only really wanted cuddles from Spencer, as Y/N wanted too.

She got into some more comfortable clothes, grabbing one of Spencer’s most beloved hoodies he always wore around their home. It was a gift she had given him on their anniversary, knowing he was always cold around their apartment. She placed it over her head, the sleeves long on her arms and the bottom of it falling down just over her thighs.

She got into bed, looking over at Spencer’s empty bed side. Y/N placed the hood over her head, curling up in the sheets and letting sleep washing over her, with a piece of him in her arms.

…

Spencer came back early that night, the case closing up earlier than intended. He came into the apartment, the lights switched off and the door to him and Y/N’s room slightly opened. He shrugged off his jacket and shoes, walking towards their room to find the prettiest sight.

Y/N was all curled up, sleeping tightly in his favorite hoodie, the hood high on her head. He smiled warmly at the sight, his heart fluttering with comfort and adoration.

He got into some more comfortable clothes, sliding soundly into the bed beside her sleeping body.  

She felt the bed dip beside her, wrapping her arms around him softly. Spencer placed his arms around her as well, pressing his cheek on her forehead.

“I missed you.” She whispered, her eyes closed and her tone sleepy. Her cheeks were flushed from the heat of the hoodie and the blankets that practically swallowed her while she slept.

He smiled sweetly, running his arm over her back, his hand resting on the back of her head.

“I missed you too, sweetheart.” He spoke softly, kissing her forehead sweetly.

“You look so cute in my hoodie.” He whispered, looking down at her sleepy figure. Her hand hidden up the sleeve of his shirt.

She smiled warmly, looking up at Spencer. Y/N trailed her hand along his chest, making its way towards his cheek. He leaned into her touch, kissing the palm of her hand and her wrist as he placed his hand over hers.

“It reminds me of you when you’re not here.” She spoke softly, her voice filled with sleep.

He smiled sweetly at her response, his cheeks heating up with a warm blush under her touch.

“I’m here now, baby.” He whispered, bringing her closer to him and kissing her sweetly.

She loved everything about Spencer. Y/N loved his intelligence, his kindness and his different haircuts, but she loved it the most when they were alone together. Spencer cherished every single moment of his time when he was with her. Either they worked on a case together, or they bunked in a hotel room, or they cooked dinner. He loved spending time adoring Y/N.

They both laid close to each other, Spencer’s hand drawing patterns on her back from time to time. He kissed her forehead and her temple when her felt her breaths slowing down to a familiar beat.

“Goodnight, my love.” He whispered softly on her temple. Spencer fell asleep a couple minutes after her.

They did not need to speak to communicate between one another. They could lay in each other arms without having a single worry about the outside world. They thought about each other, all the time, and that’s why they were so perfect together.

Spencer couldn’t wait for the day he would ask her to marry him. Maybe that day would come sooner than she would expect it…

!!!

Hello friends, I need your help.

Yesterday, 04/04/24, I became homeless; I don’t have a home anymore.

I only have my car, luckly, so that’s where I’m staying with my cat.

I’m currently in my first year of university but I’m going to drop out soon as I can’t afford to pay the fees. I’m looking for a new job, of course, but as of right now I don’t have enough money to do anything about my situation.

I will not share my exact location for safety reasons but I will tell you that I'm living in my car near a gym so as not to be isolated. Physically I am fine, emotionally not really but it doesn't matter.

I’m asking for your help because I don’t know what else to do. I have some links in my bio, if you can donate anything, even just one euro is going to make the difference.

And if you can't donate, please at least share this post or my links. Thank you so much, I appreciate every single one of you.

(Please forgive me for using the tags improperly but I'm trying to reach as many of you as possible, as well as my mutuals).

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 Three

The Way Back Home (Spencer Reid x Reader) - Chapter Three Reader Insert: she/her pronouns Word Count: 3173 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

~~~

Spencer stared hard at the map of Manhattan that was pinned to the board, eyes flickering between each location the bodies were found at. He'd circled them, hoping to visualise some sort of map or pattern between the kill spots, but nothing emerged to his despair.

He sighed, rubbing his tired eyes. The team had gone to their hotel soon after his outburst at Holt, but he'd been back in since around six o'clock. He checked his wristwatch. Quarter-to-eight it read.

'You're in early.'

Spencer swivelled around at the sound of Hotch entering the room, the rest of team following closely behind. JJ held two coffees in hand, walking around the big table in the middle of the room to hand one to him. He didnt know how JJ knew he needed the caffeine, but he smiled gratefully nonetheless and took the hot brew from her hands.

'Yeah,' he said after a deep sip, scrunching his nose slightly at the slight bitter taste he detected. It was sweet, but not sweet enough. 'I... couldn't sleep.'

How could he, when his whole world had been turned upside down in the span of a couple of hours? You were risking your life - had been for eleven months already. He wanted this case to be over, and sleeping in his uncomfortable hotel bed while you were constantly looking over your shoulder was not going to help make that happen.

The way his friends looked at him now only confirmed that he looked a little worse for wear. But before anyone could comment, Hotch intervened.

'Where are we on the unsub's comfort zone, Reid?' Hotch asked, looking at the map over Spencer's shoulder.

Spencer was grateful for the change in topic, and turned around to point at the map with one hand, the other still cradling his coffee. 'I marked out where each body was found in relation to their establishment,' he explained, pointing at each marked spot for emphasis. 'Unfortunately, they range from up to downtown, even the Upper Eastside to SoHo. Geography doesn't seem to be a factor in the killings. What does seem to be a factor, however, is that all the other girls, like Roxy, were killed either outside or not far from where they worked.'

'That could speak to the unsub wanting to deliver a message,' JJ suggested. 'If the unsub is someone who has been double-crossed by these girls or the establishments, maybe their deaths are a warning.'

'Penelope said she couldn't find anything on these girls prior to their employment,' Kate said, reading a text off her phone no doubt from the technical analyst herself. 'Y/N's intel was correct. These girls were like ghosts, but like, before they had a life.'

'They had to have come from somewhere,' Rossi said. 'They couldn't have just... invented these girls.'

'No...' Derek trailed off, hand reaching for his jean pocket. '...but they can be reinvented.'

'What do you mean?' JJ asked, but Spencer's brain worked faster than Derek's mouth.

'From the initial notes from each body find, we know all girls were quite loyal and involved with the establishment's business,' Spencer answered, feeling reinvigorated suddenly. Or maybe that was just the coffee. 'They would've had to have been isolated for a few years prior to their re-emergence back into society to be that conditioned to their owner's orders.'

'Most of these girls were around seventeen and eighteen when they started working,' Kate said. 'That's when girls usually establish their independence from families.'

'But these girls have stayed as they've entered their twenties,' Hotch noted.

'Which means they would've been taken away from society before they could figure out how to be independent.' Derek's finger pressed a speed dial button - the first person on Derek Morgan's list for all things knowledgeable.

'Greetings my love,' Penelope greeted, her perkiness like another shot of espresso in Spencer's system. 'Did you see my good morning text with all my notes - and by all of them, I mean nothing - on the girls' history? Sent with love.'

'We did, baby girl,' he answered. 'But we might have a new lead to go on and we need your help.'

'You've rubbed the lamp, and as the genie I am now at your command. What do you need to know?'

'See if you can find any missing child records from over the last decade, particularly girls,' Derek said.

'They might not be made by parents, per say,' Spencer quickly added. 'The seller is choosing girls he knows people won't look too hard for. They'll be low-risk victims, so look up any mysterious disappearances from homeless communities and even unofficial orphanages and shelters in the New York state.'

'Boy Wonder, you certainly live up to your name,' Penelope quipped, the soft pattering of her frantic typing filling the room for a moment before she stopped. 'Aha! There have been over fifty girls who've gone missing over the past decade that fit those perimeters. I almost missed some of them because they weren't officially reported, but they popped up in local newspaper adverts noting certain kids in their community had been missing for a while. I've just sent a list of places they all went missing from to your phones.'

Another flurry of fingers flying over her keyboard and she spoke again. 'And if you look at your tablets, you will find the picture a young girl, aged twelve, gone missing from a trip to an aquarium with her orphanage. A Missy Wright. She had a record for running away and hiding, so when she wasn't found after twenty four hours, police disbanded the search party and declared her a runaway. But does she look familiar at all to you?'

Spencer looked over JJ's shoulder as she looked at her own tablet, seeing the similarities before anyone else did. 'That's Roxy Vega,' he said.

'I'm running out of gold stars to give you, Boy Wonder,' Penelope quipped. 'I'll try and find more pictures of the dead girls and match them with any of the missing girls on my list.'

'Thank you mama, you're best,' Derek said.

'I know, sugar,' Penelope replied before ending the call promptly.

'Let's go talk to those establishments, particularly Roxy's old orphanage,' Hotch announced. 'Let's cover as many as we can by splitting up. Spencer and JJ, Derek and Kate, and Dave you're with me.'

Kate squinted at her phone, eyebrows furrowing in distress. 'There are over thirty addresses here. And they're spread all over the New York state. This could take days.'

'I'll get local police as well as Holt's team to help,' Hotch replied. 'We find out who these girls were before they were abducted, we find out how the unsub finds them.'

'Then we can find him,' Rossi added with an assertive nod. 'All right then, let's get going. We're burning daylight.'

Spencer downed the rest of his coffee then grabbed his satchel and suit jacket and scrambled after his team. Before he left, he turned back to the board, to the marked map and the pictures of the managers and the mutilated girls. Girls who died as different people to who they were born as.

We will find you, he silently vowed, and followed his team out the door.

~~~

The pounding music of the Pit replicated the consistent thuds in your head as you walked your way around the floor.

Three glasses of single malt whiskey balanced precariously on your tray as you made your way through the crowd of gentlemen and girls enjoying themselves. It was a fine art, one you had perfected over the eleven months you'd been undercover.

You tried not to crinkle your nose in disgust as you passed by a certain lecherous man getting handsy with one of the girls, Lavender.

She was younger than you, a pretty little thing who started around the same time as you did. You'd come to the assumption she was also one of the girls who'd been taken as a a child and reinvented, as she always dodged any questions you asked about her life before... working.

And maybe she just didn't know the answers or she just really valued her privacy as a girl in her late teens did. But the way she would always always redirect the subject or blatantly not answer didn't sit right with you.

Lavender's eyes met yours briefly, and you saw the defeat and disgust she felt as she let the man's hands grip her curvaceous hips. It was a silent cry for help - you'd seen the same look in the other girls' eyes before. Not just at the Chateau, either. At all the establishments you'd wheedled your way into.

You wanted nothing more than to slug the bastard who had to be forty years Lavender's senior, and shame him for defacing an innocent like her. For going behind his wife's back because God forbid she age like human beings do. You saw the ring tan wrapping his ring finger. That was an easy spot after being in the workplace as you long as you had. Or maybe that was just your profiler background giving you an upper hand.

Before you could do anything, however, Lavender was dragged back into a conversation with the lech, forcing a fake smile to crinkle her beautiful features. And you still had three drinks to deliver.

'There you go, boys,' you drawled out, slapping on a flirtatious smile as you placed the three glasses onto the small round table between the three occupied chairs.

'Why thank you, sweetheart,' one said, flashing your smile back at you in return. 'I've been looking forward to this all night.'

'Why don't you sit down with us,' another one said, patting his lap as he took a sip from his glass, never losing eye contact with you.

You repressed the shudder that instinctively rattled your bones, and instead you waved a hand carelessly. 'No, no. I can't. I'm on bar shift tonight, boys. I mean, who else is going to get you your drinks?'

'I'm sure someone else could cover for ya, sweetheart,' the third man suggested, hand reaching out to graze your hips. 'Come on, just ten minutes won't hurt anyone.'

Bile rose up in your throat at his touch, how it sent an uncomfortable chill through you despite the heat inside the Pit. But you were Serena Vanderguff, and this was not your first rodeo.

You gracefully yet pointedly slapped his hand away from you, laughing boisterously like you hadn't purposefully done that. 'Oh, you boys have such a wild sense of humour. But be honest... you couldn't afford ten minutes of this.'

You swayed your hips as you walked away, knowing full well they were staring after you. Wolf whistles followed your movements but none of them came after you thankfully, no doubt because they set their sights on some other poor victims.

You approached the bar and placed your tray on it, leaning on it with a sigh.

'Tell me about it,' a velvety voice said. The voice belonged to a gorgeous woman with charcoal skin, chocolate eyes, and multicoloured braids who was wiping glasses before putting them back behind the bar to use for another round of drinks. 'But I'm sad to say, but the night is still young.'

'You got that right, Ajani,' you murmured, rubbing around your eyes to avoid messing up your eye makeup. It was a little bright and bold for your taste, but it didn't matter what you liked.

It hadn't mattered for a while now.

'Hey,' Ajani said, grabbing your attention. 'Madame was looking for you in her office.'

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. 'For me? What for?'

Ajani shrugged, throwing the hand towel she'd been using over her shoulder. 'She didn't say what exactly, just that she wanted to see you now. Don't worry, I'll get Becky to cover for ten.'

You nodded, then cautiously turned over my shoulder to the door to the side of the stage that read OFFICE. It wasn't unusual for you to be called in to her office as of late. It was exactly what you wanted. But it didn't mean you weren't any less terrified whenever you entered, the endless possibilities of why you were in there driving you crazy.

The door opened to reveal Madame Lacroix sitting at her desk, a drink in hand, and two other men sitting in the two chairs on the other side of it. Two men, you were terrified to notice, you recognised as managers of your previous workplaces: Alfred Royalton of the Charming Times brothel, and Melton Jones from Guilty Pleasure. Their quiet murmurings silenced as soon as you came into view, their piercing gazes freezing you in the doorway.

'You wanted to see me, Madame?' you said as perkily as you could, hoping to cover your fear up slightly.

Madame Lacroix's red lips split in an award-winning smile as she waved you inside with her free hand. 'Yes, Serena. I was! How lovely of you to join us. Come in, come in!'

You quickly scurried in and closed the door behind you, happy to find reprieve in the much quieter room compared to the Pit. But that reprieve didn't last long, as you met your old bosses' curious gazes.

'You remember Alfred and Melton, Serena?' Madame Lacroix prompted after an awkward moment of silence.

'Yes,' you answered. 'It's great to see you both. You're looking well.'

'And so are you, dear Serena,' Alfred said, walking over and embracing you in an awkward hug as he tried to not spill his drink. As an older gentlemen, he seemed more like a fatherly figure to the girls in his employment. But from what you knew about the business he and the others in the room were involved in, he came off as a creepy pedophile. 'I'm so glad to see Madame Lacroix treating you so well. You know you are always welcome back at the old haunt.'

'If she's going back to anyone, it's me,' Melton said, the certainty in his words matching the intensity of his eyes. They raked you up and down, and again you repressed a shiver from the disgusting feeling it gave you to be watched like a piece of meat. Melton Jones couldn't be older than thirty-five, and was the son of one of the biggest CEO's in Eco-energy products and research.

You could only imagine what his big-time mother would think if she knew what her son was really into.

'Tough luck, boys. She's mine now,' Madame Lacroix interrupted the fight, getting up from her seat to walk around her desk and sling an arm around your shoulders. 'But why don't we get into what we really want to talk about? Have a seat, my dear.'

You didn't have much of a choice as Madame Lacroix guided you to sit in her own desk chair before joining the men on the other side. They all looked at you expectantly, but their smiles were more alarming than reassuring.

'Um... what did you want to see me for, Madame?' you asked after a moment of silence.

Madame didn't respond right away, placing her glass of wine down first on the desk. 'You are a special girl, Serena. Very special indeed.'

You raised a quizzical brow. 'How so?'

'You've impressed us,' Alfred answered, looking around at his peers. 'Your ability to keep secrets and do things without being asked has attributed to this. It's one of the reasons we've had to share you around so much and in such little time. If I had any say, you would've never left Charming Times!'

'You've done our stocktake,' Melton continued, those snake eyes of his never leaving yours. 'Kept certain... shipments under wraps. Picked up exclusive clientele that has done wonders for our business. You're like our own little personal lucky charm.'

You recounted all the times you'd hidden the secret load of drugs that were snuck into customer's drinks and food to get them so delirious they didn't realise how much money they were spending. All the times you sat in on meetings with the managers about who to target the next night, and all the shady receipts of shipments with unknown contents in them you hadn't be told about yet.

All the the illegal and dangerous deals that you'd told your Organised Crime unit about behind your managers' backs.

'That is why we would like to reward you, my dear,' Madame Lacroix said, a smile you figured to be proud gracing her lips. 'And we're not the only ones who think so too. We think you're ready to learn our... business, and so does the Boss.'

'The Boss?' you asked tentatively, not bothering to mask your slight fear. Was this the seller? Was this the guy you'd been trying to take down for almost a year now?

'Oh don't look so terrified, honey,' Madame Lacroix doted, walking around the desk to pat at your head. She leaned in close to you, and you restrained from gagging at the smell of too much wine tainting her breath. 'The Boss is impressed by your work and commitment to the trade. So much so, he wants to meet you. Soon.'

The men looked at you expectantly, and that's when you realised how you should be reacting. 'R-Really?' you mustered out an excited response, widening your eyes to appear more innocent. 'The Boss wants to see me?'

'Yes, Serena,' Alfred said. 'All the arrangements will be made when you meet, but soon you'll be seeing him a lot.'

'Arrangements?'

Melton surprisingly was the one to answer you. 'Each establishment in the Business, as we like to call it, has their hierarchy. The Boss is above us all, and he helps keep our establishments running smoothly. From there, it goes us, then our employees. That's you right now, Serena. But there is a status in between us and the employees that is trusted more than the others, kind of like our right hand woman.'

'And that woman acts as our mediator between us and the Boss,' Madame Lacroix continued, still stroking your hair. 'Kind of like a peace offering for how generous and kind he is to us.'

'What has this got to do with me?' you asked, but you already knew what the answer would be.

Madame Lacroix let out a dramatic sigh as she stood to make her way around the desk again, rejoining the men. 'Well, our mediator at the Chateau was Roxy, but, well, you know what happened to her. So what I'm offering is a chance to become the next Roxy, Serena. Be my most trusted employee, to learn the Business, and to appease the Boss- I mean, thank him.'

She stopped mid-walk to turn and look you dead in the eye, and despite her drunken breath, you saw clarity and evil flash in those emerald eyes of hers.

'So, what do you say, Serena? Do you want to be one of us?'

The Way Back Home (Spencer Reid x Reader ) - Chapter Five

The Way Back Home (Spencer Reid x Reader) - Chapter Five Reader Insert: she/her pronouns Word Count: 6718 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

~~~

You watched from your place against the wall as Spencer, Kate and Hotch left the Pit, keenly aware of Spencer's eyes seeking you out and adjusting your hiding place accordingly. But you kept eyes on him, and when his own turned away from the Pit in defeat, you let yourself relax.

You hadn't been expecting your old team to come down and put pressure on Madame Lacroix, especially not tonight when a meeting had already been arranged. As long as they didn't allude to what they know, you thought, everything should be fine.

The plan would remain the same: you would meet the seller, play it casual, seem willing and pliant, gain as much evidence as possible that would expose him and the rest of the managers, then high-tail it back to your team ready for the take down.

You rubbed your temples as opposed to your tired eyes to avoid ruining your makeup. All Madame Lacroix had said about the meeting was that you would be summoned sometime tonight. And while you knew you needed to be focusing on the upcoming meeting, on the seller, on taking him down, all you could think of was him.

Dr. Spencer Reid, with his brilliant, amber eyes that could freeze you in place with one look. Dr. Spencer Reid, with his strong hands - the hands that held you close to his body only minutes beforehand. You'd initiated the contact, but it had been instinct, a defence mechanism as Serena Vanderguff. Once you'd realised the position you'd placed the both of you in, you knew you had to pull away as fast as possible.

He'd looked at you like he had that night in the office. Looking up, the soft light of the booth had illuminated his eyes to appear warm and alive - and so full of admiration you could hardly believe such a wondrous, more beautiful sight existed on earth.

But that voice in the back of your head, Serena's voice, nagged at you. Not yet, she said, it's too risky. But hadn't you risked it all already? Hadn't you done your duty to the fullest? No. That voice belonged to you, and that was what pulled you away from him, what made you send him away.

'What would you have said? That night I asked you out. Yes or no?'

It wasn't that you were surprised he asked the question. It was inevitable, and you had practiced your answer everyday since you'd left, hoping you'd get to finally say it to him.

What surprised you was how he said. It was like his whole life surrounded the question, like it would determine how he would live the rest of it according to your answer. It was important to him, but something as trivial as an answer to a date didn't seem like the thing Dr. Spencer Reid would be hung up on almost a year later.

But Spence - your Spence - would. The man behind the facts and figures, statistics and books; the man you'd befriended; the man you had stood by and who had stood by you in return through the hardest of times. The man who'd quoted you Shakespeare when you were tired, and made you laugh by recalling a memory of you two you had sealed away so carefully you'd almost lost it.

The question was important to Spence, in all his vulnerable glory, and it was for that reason you did not answer him. The mere thought that you mattered to him in the way he mattered to you was too much to handle, especially now.

A gentle hand on your shoulder jolted you from your silent state. It was Ajani, worry creasing her gorgeous, dark features.

'You good, Serena?' she asked, observant eyes raking over you in a quick check.

You nodded, using the action to bring you back to the present. 'Yeah, I'm fine,' you answered, slipping back into your Serena Vanderguff costume. 'Just feel a bit crowded in here, you know?'

'That's why I stay behind the bar,' Ajani quipped, and you were thankful for the break in solemness.

'Then what are you doing with us peasants out here?" you asked, a cheeky smile pulling your lips up.

Ajani pushed your shoulder she was holding lightly, her laughter making it feel you were in your own little bubble. 'You're in luck, it seems,' she said, and your stomach dropped along with her smile. 'Madame wants you in the loading dock.'

You didn't question it. The request could only be one thing. You nodded your thanks and made your way through the masses towards the loading dock. Making sure no one was watching you leave, you opened the door partly and slipped through the small gap before gently closing it behind you.

You were met with Madame Lacroix at the garage entrance to the dock, three men in black S.W.A.T.-like outfits, mouth masks, and a limo behind them. None of the men moved at your appearance which told you they were trained guards of sorts, maybe ex-military. You noticed one of them had a tattoo peaking out from under his pushed up long sleeve shirt. It was a tail of sorts, maybe an ancient Chinese dragon's tail.

You switched your focus back on Madame Lacroix and approached her, the perfect picture of calm and grace. You didn't flinch as you spotted each men with an assortment of knives attached to their legs, and a gun each holstered at their hips.

Madame Lacroix stepped closer to greet you, a hopeful smile adorning her red lips. 'It's time,' she said, taking your hands in hers, giving them a squeeze, and leading you to the limo. The men didn't move as you approached, instead waiting until you were closer to make a move. The middle one - the dragon tattoo guy - stepped forward as you approached, a canvas bag in hand.

'Is that really necessary?' you asked, pulling your head away slightly.

He raised it to your head. 'Nothing personal. Just protocol.'

You scowled at him but didn't argue further, allowing the man to place the bag over your head. Your world went instantly pitch black, and then you were moving again towards the car thanks to the men and Madame Lacroix. She sat next to you in the car based on the hand that still held yours, and from the sound of the other door opening on the opposite side one of the three guards was sitting in the back with you, too.

The car trip was silent and an hour almost passed before the car pulled to a complete stop, the engine rumbling down to a soft purr, then silence. You'd counted the minutes that passed in your head as an anchor. Not being able to see made you a little anxious, and counting kept your mind occupied. It also helped you listen out for anything happening outside of the car.

The men and Madame Lacroix had been careful not to speak the entire ride, but that allowed you to hear the blaring of car horns and city traffic fade about twenty minutes into the trip. You'd noticed the slight change in road when that happened too; slick tarmac like a highway. The road became increasingly rougher the longer you travelled, and the last ten minutes you turned off the highway and onto a long dirt road.

Out of town, you concluded internally. Secluded, off the beaten track, south bound. While these people were bringing you into their elite circle, you couldn't shake the feeling that something might go wrong. It was important you had some idea where you were in case you needed to escape.

You were gently tugged out of the car by Madame Lacroix, who had never let go of your hand the entire time. In an odd way, it was comforting, knowing someone was there supporting you, looking out for you. Even if it was someone as shady and two-faced as Madame Lacroix.

Your opened toed heels tripped on gravel and dirt, lodging a few loose stones between the straps. It was summer, but the cool breeze of the night had you shaking in your skimpy red dress. Yep, definitely off the beaten track.

You heard a tin door open by the way it echoed and creaked with the motion, and you were guided into a darker place where the moon couldn't illuminate the bottom edge of the canvas bag that kept you connected to the outside world. Immediately your nose was hit with the sterile scent of bleach, like a hospital. You mentally counted your steps, mapping out at what number you turned left, then right, then right again, and finally straight for about ten paces. One of the men fiddled with a door handle, but this one sounded more solid, not rustic like the outside one.

Another ten paces forward and you were pulled to a stop. The door behind you closed, and finally the canvas bag was taken off.

You blinked a few times, gaining your eyesight back and catching your bearings. Once both had returned, you found yourself in a room with a long table and thirteen chairs around it. In eleven of them sat men and women, some of whom you recognised as your old managers like Alfred Royalton and Melton Jones.

Behind them stood women, all different, but all undeniably beautiful. But for some, being called a woman was a stretch. Some of them couldn't have been older than eighteen at best, their faces too youthful, too innocent. And yet they were here, standing behind their bosses like trophies or handbags. You couldn't tell which label was worse.

You noticed an empty seat. No doubt Madame Lacroix's place at the table. That made the twelve establishments. But there was still one more person sitting down, appropriately at the head of the table.

He was a burley man, white button up under a grey suit jacket barely holding in massive muscles. His dark hair was slicked back from dark, slitted eyes, pale face glowing with health under the fluorescent light. The Boss, you concluded. The Unsub. His ringed hands were clasped in front of his face, and you forced yourself to hold your ground as those slitted eyes narrowed on you.

The emptiness you found in his eyes scared you more than anything. You expected him to be lecherous, perverted and possessive in all aspects of his being. That was how you profiled him after learning of the sadistic manner the girls were killed in. But he showed nothing but a void of emotions or care.

And a man without feeling was a man worth fearing.

You held his gaze for a moment longer before he waved a hand in the direction of the empty seat. 'Madame Lacroix. So good of you to join us. And I see you've brought a guest.'

Like a proud mother, Madame Lacroix grabbed your arm with one hand and wrapped her other around your opposite shoulder, red lips drawn back in a wide smile. 'Yes! Everyone, some of you may know her already, but this is Serena. She'll be hanging out a lot more often after tonight.'

'Bold of you to assume I will approve of her,' the Boss said, and his gaze returned to you. 'You know I have... requirements she must meet.'

'Trust me, she will, Walter,' Madame Lacroix said, her smile slipping into a scowl as she narrowed her snake eyes on him. 'Besides, if you'd stop killing off our girls, we wouldn't have to keep bringing in new ones to teach everything all over again.'

You held back your surprised gasp. So she did know this whole time he was the killer. She'd practically just called him out in front of everyone, and none of his men were in the room to protect him if things went south.

Agreeing murmurs dribbled around the room, but a single raise of the Boss' - Walter's - hand silenced them in a second.

'You'd do well to remember your place, Madame Lacroix,' he said, deathly calm as he returned his hands to clasping one another, his dead eyes locking onto her. 'You may make money off your girls, but I'm the one who still owns them; therefore, I suggest you keep your accusations to yourself unless you don't want to have any employees tomorrow.'

Walter either truly didn't kill Roxy and the others, or he wanted the managers to be looking over their shoulders in constant fear that they would be next. Either way, by not out-rightly admitting to it, he retained power over them all because it was too ambiguous to determine whether he did or didn't kill those girls. And you didn't get a confession.

Like it would've been that easy anyways.

The threat was enough to dull the ire in Madame Lacroix's eyes, lowering her gaze from him in defeat. You looked between her and Walter, terrified at how such a man could tame - no, make cower - a woman as bold and powerful as Madame Lacroix. He re-offered his hand to the empty seat, and you followed your manager as she followed his silent order without question.

'Now, anyone else have something to say?' Walter asked, but the room remained silent, every spokes girl with heads bowed and every manger looking sheepish as they avoided his steel gaze. Walter leant back in his seat. 'You know I will not tolerate insubordination. I have given you lives, prospects, something to call your own. Those girls... met an unfortunate end. Work with me, and I can protect you from that same fate.'

Again, he danced around the confession. He spoke with such threat, but acted like a protector. It frustrated you. It was like he was taunting you specifically, knowing that you were recording-

Your breath escaped you as fear crept into your bones. What if he did know? What if you'd already given yourself away and he was just biding his time until he could finish you off himself?

The thought niggled at the back of your mind as the meeting continued. They talked about stock and other deals, all the while the spokes girls remaining silent as the managers discussed business. The thought had almost slipped your mind until the end of the meeting came about.

'What do you want us to do about the FBI?' Alfred asked. 'There are only so many lies and half-truths we can tell to cover for all this.'

You watched Walter's reaction carefully. But he didn't flinch at the thought of your team getting closer. Confidence oozed from his every movement as he sat back in his seat, arms resting on the chair's arms.

'Leave the FBI to me,' he said. 'The feds won't be a problem much longer I can assure you, Alfred. For now, it is business as usual. Everyone is dismissed.'

All the managers stood up and made their way to the exit door, their girls walking promptly behind them. You waited for Madame Lacroix to stand, but she never did, and neither did Walter. You all remained at the table even when the last person left, agonising silence suffocating you as you waited for someone to break it.

Walter broke it. 'So you're the Serena I've been hearing so much about,' he said, his dead eyes flicking to you, his face not giving anything away.

You waited for him to continue, but you quickly realised in the following silence that he wanted you to speak. 'Only good things, I hope,' you said, offering your best flirtatious smile. If there was one thing you had learnt over your eleven months in the business, it was that men like him always softened for a confident smile. 'Or, you know, bad things, depending on how you look at it.'

To your luck, the corner of his lips lifted in a slight smile. The void in his eyes changed then into desire and a weird sense of admiration as they raked over your body, as if just realising how skimpy your outfit really was. 'Confident,' he said after he stopped gazing at you. 'I like that.'

You held your smile as he stood up from his chair for the first time that night. He was a good head-and-chest taller than you, causing you to strain your neck to look up at him as he came around to you. You forced yourself to keep breathing evenly as he stood over you, dark eyes alight with lust and desire.

'Six of my different establishments in eleven months,' he said. 'Some would say that was suspicious.'

'Or just ambitious,' you challenged, not allowing him to continue. 'You're not as sneaky as you'd like to believe, Walter. But I'm not one to kiss and tell. All I ask is to be let in on the secret. You've heard about me, so I don't need to tell you what I'll do to be let in the room where it all happens.'

'That's Mr. Khan to you,' he said, lust and desire trading in for dominance. His stare was cold, but you held it. Men like him who craved power and dominate would react to a headstrong, daring woman like you in one of two ways:

They get angry at being made impotent or an imbecile compared to a woman, and the anger is most of the time physicalised in violent actions against women; or

The man will admire the woman's confidence, and reward her for not backing down from his otherwise dominant presence.

You were hoping for the latter.

And when his gaze softened with that lust and desire once more, you knew you had won.

'But maybe one day that will change,' he said, and he held out his arm towards a door at the back of the room. 'You're impressive, Serena. I will admit. But there's just one last test I'd like to put you to.'

You looked between him and the doorway cautiously, keeping in the back of your mind the notion that he might actually know who you are. But seeing as it was only you, him, and Madame Lacroix left in the room, your odds of refusing him and leaving unscathed were low. So you smiled like the obedient employee you were and said, 'If you say so, Mr. Khan.'

'Be gentle with her, please,' Madame Lacroix said, remaining in her seat. She sounded defeated, tired. It made you wonder how many girls she had handed over to him before you and Roxy like this. Maybe she really did care for her girls, for you.

'Always, Madame,' he said, then ushered you in front of him towards the door. 'Don't bother waiting around. We're going to be a while.'

You repressed the shiver of terror that wanted to run down your spine. That doesn't sound good, you thought, but smiled appreciatively as Walter opened the door and allowed you to enter first. The click that echoed through the dimly lit hallway when the door closed was like the hammer of justice used in court, sentencing you to whatever horror he had hiding in the shadows.

You couldn't help the gasp that escaped you when Walter's hand pressed firmly into the small of your back. Your dress was thin and did nothing to stop the cold that came along with his touch.

'I won't lie to you,' Walter started, walking the both of you forward steadily. 'I've been following you for some time now, Serena. But usually those who climb my corporate ladder, so to say, come through me first. So where did you come from?'

You made sure to keep your features relaxed as you twisted your neck to look up at him. You've presented yourself as a confident woman now. The moment you show otherwise he'll start to suspect you. If he hasn't already, that is. 'Like I said, I'm an ambitious woman, Mr. Khan. If there is something I want, there's nothing I won't do to get it.'

'And what is it that you want, dear Serena?' He leaned in closer, warm breath brushing your cheeks. You were even more conscious of his touch on your back and arm now. You wouldn't be able to run even if you wanted to. Just relax, just relax, just relax.

'I want what everyone of those other girls want,' you answered, turning your attention forwards again. 'To have control over my life. To make something more of myself than what this wretched world had predestined for me.'

You were pulled to a halt out the front of door. You'd been walking for sometime, so whatever place this was had to be big. That wouldn't be easy to hide. But instead of opening the door, Walter turned you to face him, his hands now holding your arms in a grip that bordered between gentle and harsh.

'I don't believe you,' he said, a coy smile tugging his lips. 'You don't strike me as the kind of girl that is like every other girl. If you were, you wouldn't have bothered worming your way up to where we stand now, Serena.'

'You make it sound like dirty work,' you quipped.

'That's because it is.' For a moment, his eyes softened, and you saw a kind man. Maybe he once was before. But you quickly realised it was the face of a liar, a mask he put on to get people to believe him and his cause.

You would not be another victim to his lies.

'So tell me the truth,' he demanded. 'Why are you here? Right now?'

You couldn't exactly tell him the truth unless you had a death wish. But he'd already seen through your practised lies, so another one wouldn't work. So you settled on a half-truth. 'Because I want to be as powerful as I can be in this world, to protect my own and deal out punishment accordingly to those who wrong me. It is, after all, a dangerous world out there. I just want to be one that makes it so.'

He contemplated you for a moment, for the first time that evening looking shocked and unsuspecting of what just occurred. But that quickly dissipated into a devilish smile, dark eyes burning with promise. 'See? I knew you weren't like the other girls.'

You had no time to respond as he opened the door and once again allowed you to go in first. You hesitated at first, as the room was pitch black so you couldn't see what potential trap you were heading into. But you walked in anyways, Walter right behind you. You held your breath as he closed the door behind him and blanketed you in darkness briefly. Your eyes didn't have time to adjust as you heard a switch flick, and fluorescent lights flickered on.

You blinked, but not from the lights, but from the sight that met you underneath them.

Girls. In a cage.

The cage was positioned along the back wall of the long room, cramming what seemed to be thirteen or so girls crammed into the small cell. You took a step closer, both out of horror and a need to help those girls, but also so your camera got a clear view of the girls. Horror coursed through you like cold water, and you had to bite your inner cheek to contain the urge to hurl at the animality of it all.

The eldest girls of the group couldn't be older than thirteen, their youthful faces smeared with dirt, littered with cuts and painted with bruises. The more you looked over them the more you saw how diverse they were in race. Caucasian, Latina, and African-American. He had them all.

You bit your cheek harder when Walter seized your arm and pressed his mouth close to your ear, trapping your gaze forward. 'Welcome to the Warehouse, Serena,' he murmured, his tone almost proud of what you were seeing. 'This is where all the magic happens.'

You couldn't speak even if you wanted to. Your throat was clogged trying to hold back bile; your voice was silenced, and words escaped you as you couldn't believe someone could actually do this to young girls. What sickened you even more was the space in the middle of the warehouse, littered with hay like a manger. A chain hung from the ceiling above the hay, straps for wrists dangling on its end. And off to the side laid a table of all kinds of tools and instruments one could mistake for sex toys. But you guessed otherwise.

You'd profiled Walter to be sadistic and all about the message. Those tools weren't for sex. They were to teach the girls he kidnapped who was in charge of them, who owned them.

This was where he brainwashed them.

This was where he killed them.

Girls looked at you with tired eyes, but none called out to you. You saw tear streaks cutting through the layer of dirt on their cheeks, but still they remained silent. He'd already taken their voices.

You never knew you could hate a man as much as you hated Walter Khan.

'Well, what do you think?' he asked, walking around to block your view of the girls. 'Isn't it just... magnificent?'

You wanted to slug him, kick him, bite him, shoot him if you had your gun. You wanted to scratch his eyes out with the fake talons the nail salon called nails. He liked what he saw, and you wanted so badly to make him regret enjoying someone else's pain, let alone young girls'.

You didn't say any of what you truly felt, however. Instead, you forced yourself to look at him, trained your voice into a steady tone as you said, 'They are magnificent.'

His grin widened and he squeezed your arms. 'Welcome aboard, Serena. Come now, we have much to discuss.'

He guided you towards the door again, but not before you looked one more time at the girls and mouthed, I'll be back.

You concentrated on steadying your breathing as he closed the door behind you, as if there was more air in the tiny corridor than the Warehouse. After he did, he guided you down the hallway a little before he spoke again. 'Now, where were we?'

Before you could answer, a phone dial blared, pinging off the walls of the corridor. Walter quickly realised it was his phone that was ringing, and fished the phone out and answered the call. 'Rufus... Yep... I see... I'll be right there.'

He ended the call then turned his attention back to you, pocketing his phone in the inside pocket of his suit jacket. 'Business never sleeps, I'm afraid. You know the way back right? One of my men will meet you there to take you back to the Chateau.'

'Of course,' you said, offering an understanding smile.

He picked your hand up and kissed the back of it, like he thought he was some gentleman. You resisted the urge to hurl everything up on him at the delusional thought.

'Until next time, dear Serena,' he said lowly. 'I'm very much looking forward to the future with you here.'

'So am I.'

He turned away and walked down the corridor, the opposite direction of the meeting room. You decided to head back to the meeting room slowly, but your mind was reeling with what you'd just seen.

Those poor girls. You couldn't get their faces out of your mind. How they silently pleaded for help with big, doe eyes that were weighed down by dark circles of exhaustion and starvation. How could anyone do that to a child let alone a group of them, you would never understand. But after meeting Walter Khan in person finally, the man behind all the trauma and deaths, you had someone to be angry at.

You halted in front of the door back to the meeting room. You knew a man in a mask was waiting on the otherwise, and that if you stayed any longer than was necessary, he'd suspect something wrong and come find you. I've got enough, you told yourself, I have enough evidence to get this man to court.

But you didn't have a confession. And if he was as feared and powerful as everyone claimed him to be, he'd get out of it without so much as a slap on the wrist.

The girls' faces haunted you as you stared at the door, hand unable to bring itself to open the door and walk away. I should go. I need to go, your training screamed at you.

But your heart...

The door suddenly opened, startling you out of your frozen state. One of the men that brought you there stood in the opening, eyes narrowed in confusion. 'What are you doing? We've got to go.'

You reacted before your mind could convince you otherwise. You jabbed your hand to his throat, punching hard to silence any cries for help he'd try to make in the next few seconds. He choked at the sudden loss of air, reaching for his throat with both hands. Big mistake.

Next, you drove your knee into his groin, sending him sprawling to the ground in a choking, gasping heap of pain and agony. You crouched by his hip and pulled out the gun holstered there, and just as he started to regain air, you slammed the butt of it into the back of his head.

He was unconscious before his head hit the ground again.

Knowing you didn't have much time, you grabbed the man's shoulders and dragged him under the table somewhat out of sight. It wasn't a full-proof hiding place; someone would find him eventually. But it would buy you just enough time to do what you needed to do.

Running on your toes so as not to clack your heels, you quickly made your way back to the Warehouse, checking your surroundings before entering and closing the door gently behind you.

You surveyed the room, gun aimed ready to fire in case someone else was there. It might've been luck or someone looking out for you from above, but it was just you and the girls.

'You're that girl from before,' one sweet voice said across the long room.

You ran over to the girls, hand pressed to your lips in a quieting motion. Only once you were crouched close enough did you speak again. 'Don't worry, girls. I'm going to get you out of here.'

'Who are you?' The question came from one of the older girls, dull brown eyes narrowed at you with scepticism. Sadly, you didn't blame her.

'I am with the FBI,' you answered. 'My name is Y/N. How long have you been here?' When no one answered, you noticed their scared eyes, darting away from your sight. They didn't trust you.

'Look,' you started, 'I know you have no reason to trust me. I can't imagine how many lies these people have told you to trap you here. But I promise you I am not with them. I've been searching for a way to stop this from happening for a while now. So please, let me help you now before anymore bad things happen to you.'

Some lifted their gazes back to you, and you were happy to see a glimmer of hope shining in them. Gosh, how long had they been trapped for?

'Some of us only a few days,' the girl with the dull eyes finally replied. The way she spoke made it out that she was the leader of the group, as some girls nodded in support of her. 'Others a couple of weeks already. He's... done things to us, you know... down there.'

Your anger came roaring up from inside you with such ferocity you wanted to scream. He raped these girls? They were children.

You silently vowed to slaughter that monster if it was the last thing you would do.

But you remembered where you were and composed yourself, pushing your anger down to speak again. 'He won't do that ever again to you, I promise.' You looked around the room and saw another door just off to the side. Looking upwards, you noticed a window high above shining moonlight into the room. An exit.

You stood back up and moved to the lock on the cage. It was heavy duty, but you weren't good at undercover missions for no reason. You unclipped one of your hoop earrings and inserted the pointy end into the keyhole. You listened for specific clicks, twisting and turning the earring until you heard a resounding click and the lock unlocked.

Swift hands took the lock off the door and swung it open, offering your hand to one of the young girls to take. 'Come on, we don't have a lot of time.' Thankfully the girl understood your urgency and took your hand, and you guided her and the others to the exit door.

You were met with a cold breeze as you stepped outside into a cleared lot of the woods. Looking around it seemed you were on some sort of hidden farm, as you couldn't see any road beyond the tree line except for the driveway out of there. Bright lights lit up the entrance to the facility where cars were parked and men in black guarded, guns ready in their hands.

Okay, stealing a car is not an option, you concluded. You looked to the woods, but found only darkness staring back at you. You could risk it, but who knew what wildlife you'd meet.

You looked around desperately. Come on! There has to be something! But when the answer didn't hit you straight away, you looked up to the moon. Hang on, you thought, eyeing the moon's positioning. You'd concluded you'd driven south bound. And since it was near early morning, the moon's arc would be more to your left if you were looking north.

You twisted yourself to stand in such a way, and once you'd gotten your bearings, a mental map of New York State entered your mind. Even before you went back undercover, you'd always helped Spencer with geographical profiles, having looked at pretty much every state's map once or twice. While you didn't have Spencer's eidetic memory, you prided yourself on image relativity and mentally mapped out big landmarks you recalled from the map in relation to your bearings.

Even when he wasn't here, Spencer Reid was there to save the day.

You crouched by the girls, bringing them closer to listen to you. 'There should be a set of train tracks about two miles east of here, okay? We're gonna head in that direction, and when we hit it, we're going to head north, or left, until we get to a station or New York, you hear me?'

The girls nodded, and you were about to start moving them when an angry cry echoed from the Warehouse. 'The girls are gone!'

You pulled the girl with the dull eyes towards you, making sure she looked you in the eyes and understood what you were about to say. 'You girls go now. I will hold these guys off and I'll catch up. But whatever you do, don't stop. Follow my instructions and don't look back.'

'You're leaving us?' the girl asked, fear shaking her voice slightly.

You grabbed ahold of her shoulders and said in a low voice, 'What's your name?'

'Ellie.'

'Okay, Ellie. I know you're scared, but I need you to be brave for me and these other girls right now. Lead them to the tracks and run along. Find the police and tell them everything. You think you can do that for me?'

'I-I guess.'

'That's good enough for me.' You clapped her shoulders before standing back up and pointing towards the woods, easterly. 'Now go!'

Ellie nodded, and grabbed two young girls' hands before taking off in a run in the direction you pointed. The other older girls followed Ellie's lead and grabbed or picked up some of the younger girls and disappeared into the dark woods, knives of moonlight cutting through the trees occasionally to light their journey.

You didn't allow yourself to ponder them any longer as you heard hurried footsteps behind you. You unlocked the safety on the gun and didn't wait to be shot at, firing the first bullet as some of Walter's cronies came running out of the Warehouse.

One man fell with an agonising cry, but the second ducked back inside briefly as you shot. By now, other men had noticed the commotion and had started running over to you.

I'm not getting out of this alive. The realisation came as you fired another shot before running towards the second man in the warehouse, shooting him down as you sought refuge back in the room. You weren't scared, you realised, to die fighting for those girls. But a sense of regret gnawed at your subconscious.

Just as you stepped inside, however, your face exploded with pain as a ringed fist slammed into your nose, producing a resounding crack. You gasped as blood ran like a river down your face, into your mouth and down your chin. But your attacker didn't give you time to recover, slamming another fist into your stomach and sending you stumbling outside and onto your back.

The gun fell from your hand in the fall, leaving you disoriented and flailing as you tried looking for it. But a strong grip on your throat stopped your movement. You spat blood as you gasped for air, desperately clawing at the hand in your weakened state. Your vision was blurry from the lack of oxygen, but you had a second of clarity which revealed your attacker.

'Oh Serena,' Walter Khan drawled, his tone more like a disappointed parent than angry. 'Or is it... Agent Y/N L/N?'

Your eyes widened with fear and surprise. He did know. You wondered how long for. Had your mission been compromised from the start?

'I knew the FBI would try something like this eventually,' he said casually, his grip never slipping. 'Which is why I had my people look into you when you started making yourself... more useful to us. I must admit, I admire your commitment. How much did it kill you to help with all our illegal dealings?'

You didn't respond, only kept clawing at his hand with your bloody ones. More of his men arrived, guns aimed at you, but Walter halted them with one hand.

'I thought you'd do the smart thing and just go back home, no doubt deliver all the information you knew about my operation to your little FBI friends. And I was going to do what I did to the others in your own home before you could, just to show those FBI fools that they aren't as smart as they think.'

His eyes raked down your body, and you flinched as he leaned in closer to the camera button on your dress. 'Did you guys hear that? You think you outsmarted me? Think again.'

With his other hand, he ripped the button off and dropped it to the ground where he stepped on it, shattering it completely.

'They'll.. find me,' you managed out, spitting blood in Walter's face as you did. 'My team... They will find me... and take you down... When they find those girls...'

'They're not going to find those girls,' Walter interrupted, arrogance radiating from him as he leaned in close to you 'You want to know why? Because you're going to tell me what direction they went and where you told them to go.'

You gathered blood and saliva in your mouth and spat it all in his face. 'Over my... dead body... bastard.'

For the first time since meeting him, his arrogance slipped and anger took its place as he stared directly into your eyes through the blood and spit, his own eyes again void of any emotion. 'Careful what you wish for, Agent.'

His free fist hit the side of your head before you knew what was happening. The world went dark before you even hit the ground.