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

The Way Back Home (Spencer Reid x Reader) - Chapter Two Reader Insert: she/her pronouns Word Count: 4514 Warnings: major angst, major fluff, mentions of murder, graphic descriptions of dead bodies, crime scenes, near-death experiences, slow-burnish romance, death, canon violence, rape, swearing, guns, knives, prostitution, canon cuteness of the team. Spoilers: Maeve's death, mentions of previous cases or canon events from seasons 1-10.

Spencer and you have an unspoken connection with one another. Nothing has ever happened between you two, especially since everything went down with Maeve, but your love has grown and overcome and is now clear as day to everyone. However, just when Spencer builds up enough courage to ask you out officially, you're requested on an undercover mission that halts your budding relationship in its tracks.

Months go by without a word from you until bodies of prostitutes start showing up in New York and the BAU is brought in to help. Spencer and you finally reunite as both your cases collide, but your lives and your love are both on the line now.

Will you and Spencer be able to find the way back home this time?

Prologue | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Epilogue

~~~

Eleven months.

Eleven months you had been Serena Vanguff: Brooklyn born and raised, with a dream to live life to the fullest. You'd built and sold your sob story of growing up with your single-parent mother and her single job income to six different clubs and brothels in those eleven months. You'd built up trust, inserted yourself into the upper ranks of each establishment. It had taken patience, precision, and a lot of self-discipline.

And Dr. Spencer Reid of all people was about to ruin all of that.

You hadn't registered the voice until it was too late. From the door of the loading bay, you could only make out your fake name being called, not who was calling. You'd been in the bay by yourself for most of the morning, the voice startled you so much you hit your toe on one of the boxes of spirits. But even bent over, eyes focused on your injury, you'd heard him as he rounded the corner, heard his voice, and there was no mistaking it.

'Are you okay,' he said, and you heard him rush over to help, but you held up a hand in the hopes to create some distance between you two.

'Yeah, yeah, I'm fine, doll,' you replied hastily, shakily. 'Just hit my toe, is all.'

'Well, here, let me get you some ice-'

'That's not necessary, hun. Really.' God, he was persistent as usual.

'Well, at least let me have a look at it. You might've gotten a splinter in it or-'

'Stop.'

You couldn't help it, your voice just slipped out. The voice you worked so hard to hide everyday. The voice you only let out in whispers or in the shower of your apartment to remind yourself you were still you. With him, it came out naturally, like it had never been hidden away.

He listened, but you knew it wasn't out of politeness. Spencer Reid had an IQ of 187 with an eidetic memory - he knew straight away. And when he slowly raised his head to look at you, you saw what he saw: a ghost.

'Y/N?'

You hadn't heard that name - your name - in months. The higher ups you reported to once a week didn't even use your name in case someone was listening in. You weren't prepared for the first person to call you by your true name after all this time to be the person you held most dear.

And the person you'd left behind without a word.

His voice was so soft; you'd always loved how he said your name. Like you were something to be revered and cared for. But realisation slapped you hard, and so you grabbed his head and pushed it down to make it look like he was looking at your injured toe. You also did it to avoid his shocked, pained gaze.

'Oh! You know, it actually does hurt a little, yeah. You're such a gentleman,' you said obnoxiously loud, holding his head steady as you bent slightly over, hair brushing his cheeks. Then, in a low voice you said, 'My name is Serena. I don't know you, and you don't know me. Make sure the cameras see that, okay?'

He nodded ever so slightly and you took his hand off his head. He slowly stood up, those amber eyes immediately locking onto yours. You followed him as he did, until you were craning your neck slightly upwards in a manner that pained you where it once was second nature. His gaze burned with so many unspoken things, but now that the shock had subsided, all you saw was hurt.

To his credit, he didn't express it verbally. Instead, he smiled a tight-lipped smile, slipping easily into his polite, greeting mode. 'Hi, I'm Dr. Spencer Reid with the FBI's Behavioural Analysis Unit,' he said, introducing himself like he would to any other person.

Even though you hadn't been expecting him or the rest of the team to be called in, it didn't take you long to realise what he would be doing here. 'Madame Lacroix said the feds would be coming around sometime,' you said, making sure you sounded both indifferent and concerned at the same time. 'Poor Roxy. She didn't deserve that.'

You held Spencer's gaze for what felt like an eternity, silently pleading with him to go along with what you were offering. You willed for him to see that you had many unspoken things to talk about with him, too. But now was not the place nor the time.

He watched you for a moment longer, his inner turmoil visible in his clenching jaw, his fidgety fingers. It warmed your heart when he tucked a loose curl behind his ear. His hair was longer. You'd always liked it that way. The last time you saw him, it was close-cropped.

Had it really been that long already?

Spencer seemed to silently agree with your logic, coughing to clear his throat before diving in with the questioning you both were more familiar with than your home addresses. 'How long have you been working at the Chateau, Miss...'

You plastered on a big smile, waving a hand dismissively at him. 'Vanderguff, but you can just call me Serena, doll. No titles except for Madame Lacroix 'round here. And about three months now.'

'Okay, Serena. Were you two close?' he asked. 'You and Roxy?'

You shrugged nonchalantly. 'Sure, we all are here. But I guess you could say there was a small group of us in particular that looked out for each other. You know, like sisters of sorts.'

'We spoke with Madame Lacroix just before,' Spencer said. 'She said Roxy and her group didn't usually let people in until they'd earned their keep. But you just... slipped right into the group?'

You didn't like how pointed his question was. It was passive aggressive, like he was having a dig at you personally and not your alter ego. You crossed your arms over your barely covered chest, your face pinching in an offended manner. 'What can I say? I'm a charmer.'

'Were you popular at your old establishment, too? The Guilty Pleasure?'

'Look here, doctor,' you said, daring to take a step forward, appearing to get up in his face out of annoyance. When really, you just needed to look him in the eye when you said, 'Instead of asking about me, maybe you should be asking about Roxy and what she was into that might've gotten her killed.' You surprised yourself when tears sprung to your eyes, the memory of finding that poor girl all bloodied and mutilated flashing forward.

You redirected your gaze to the bay doors, giving a subtle nod in their direction. 'Found her just lying outside in a pool of her own blood. I had the midnight shift so I finished at around two in the morning, but I'd forgotten my phone in my dressing room so I circled back around to collect it. But when I did... there was Roxy.'

Spencer followed your gaze, his expression softening as he took in the scene. CSU had finished up just before Spencer got there, leaving behind nothing but a dark stain where Roxy had bled out. You tried not to think about her cold, lifeless body now laying under a sheet on the M.E.'s slab in the morgue.

You were broken from that thought when Spencer turned back to face you. 'Did you see anything or anyone when you found her? Anything out of the ordinary?' he asked outwardly. But you heard his silent request: profile the unsub.

You shook your head, face falling serious as you fell back into old habits. 'I didn't see anyone, but her body was still warm when I checked for a pulse so the sicko who killed her must've just fled before I got there.'

'Or could've been waiting somewhere nearby to make sure the job was done,' Spencer added, concern morphing his handsome features. Concern, you realised, for you. 'What did you do after that?'

You'd wanted to notify your superiors straight away on your secret phone you only used to receive texts from your unit, never to. But you'd come to the same conclusion as Spencer and decided you'd have to wait for a safer time to contact them.

'I waited for a bit,' you answered, putting on a frightened front as you pouted and hugged yourself a little. 'Mainly because I was so shocked to see her just lying there. I mean, I hadn't seen her in like a day, but I just assumed she took a rest day to go shopping or something. Then I pulled it together and ran inside to notify Madame Lacroix. She was in the middle of a business meeting when I told her. She called it in immediately.'

'You did the smart thing, Serena,' Spencer said gently, offering a small smile out of comfort.

You nodded your gratitude. 'You know, people don't think much about prostitution. That those who sell their bodies don't love or respect themselves enough to get a corporate job like everybody else. But it takes a different kind of smarts to do what we do. Especially if its something we had no choice but to do.'

'Was that the case with Roxy?' he asked carefully, his words soft-spoken but full of double meaning. His eyes locked with your eyes now, amber upon (E/C). 'Is that your case, Serena?'

You nodded, too afraid to speak in case you cracked. Eleven months of hard work would not go down the drain because of your silly little feelings for the wonderful Dr. Spencer Reid.

You swallowed the lump in your throat because, you reminded yourself, you didn't know this man. 'You don't get to choose the cards you're dealt, doctor. Not in my line of work, anyways.'

'Had Roxy been acting off lately?' Spencer asked. 'Was she more anxious, more jumpy than usual? Did she think someone was following her?'

'I couldn't really tell ya. Like I said, didn't see her from the night before last until early this morning when I found her,' you answered. 'But that wasn't really unusual for her.'

Spencer raised an eyebrow. 'How so?'

'She took days off every second or third week - she was more a workaholic than the rest of us so she didn't have a designated rest day.'

'Do you know what she did on these days off?'

You shook your head. 'Could've been anything really. Shopping, spa day. Even figured she might've been visiting a secret boyfriend or something because she once came home with dark hickeys on her neck. But we're quite close as it is thanks to our line of work. It don't seem wrong to want a little privacy, so I never asked her about it.'

'Reid? You in here?'

The lump in your throat returned at the sound of Derek's voice, mainly at how close it sounded. You couldn't run away, so you steeled yourself as Serena Vanderguff ready to face the glorious figure that was SSA Derek Morgan as he rounded the stacks.

'There you are,' he said, walking up behind Spencer. 'I just finished with Madame Lacroix. How is Serena-'

That's when his eyes fell on you, and he pulled that same shocked expression Spencer had before. His mouth gaped as he looked over you. You couldn't tell if he was surprised by your appearance, or that he could hardly recognise you. Some days even you found it hard to find the true you underneath all the makeup and big hair.

Derek's gaze finally landed on your face, shaking his head in slight disbelief. 'Holy-'

'Thank you so much for your time, Serena,' Spencer intervened thankfully, flashing you a smile that resembled more of a grimace, and grabbed Derek's shirt to pull him back. 'You've been really helpful. We'll be in touch.'

Just for the cameras, you plastered on a Cheshire smile and gave them both a flirty wave goodbye. 'I'm looking forward to your call, doctor. But may I suggest that you keep asking the people upstairs, if you get my drift. They're the ones with answers.'

Derek was still too stunned to respond let alone speak, but Spencer held your gaze with an understanding that told you he knew what you really meant. So he just nodded and said. 'We'll keep that in mind... Serena.'

And just like that, they were gone. Spencer was gone. Again. You sucked in deep breaths the moment you heard the door open and they left, using the stacks to steady your exhausted body. You had not anticipated all that happening today, that was for sure.

The door opened again. You pushed yourself upright and steadied your breathing back to normal just as Madame Lacroix came to stand in front of you. Her billowy, silk sleeves slid down to her elbows as she crossed her arms over her chest, her frown giving away her displeasure.

'Did you speak with the agents?' she asked in a low voice. You nodded, prompting her to say, 'What did you tell them?'

'Exactly what you told me to say,' you said calmly, almost robotically.

Her frown lifted at your words, and she stepped closer to cup your cheeks gently with her hands. 'That's my girl,' she said, tapping your cheeks lightly before stepping away and walking back over to the door to the Pit. She paused at the door, green eyes piercing you even from so far away. 'Don't take too much longer, Serena. We've got real business to attend to, still.'

You nodded and she left, and you were once again left alone to ponder your situation. You were getting so close, but now your old team was involved. If you didn't expose these guys soon, your team would expose you.

And then you'd all end up dead.

~~~

'...may I suggest that you keep asking the people upstairs, if you get my drift. They're the ones with answers.'

'Reid... Reid... Hey, wait!'

Spencer stormed from the elevator, through the New York FBI office and into the conference room that had been set up as the BAU's personal office temporarily. There he found Hotch talking with Rossi and another man Spencer didn't recognise. But he didn't care who the heck he was, not as walked right up to them and said, 'Y/N L/N.'

The three men looked up at him, halting whatever they'd been discussing to give him incredulous looks. All except for the mystery new man.

'I'm sorry?' Hotch asked.

'You said she got a new job,' Spencer said lowly, almost growled out. 'That it was an offer she couldn't refuse. Now I understand what you meant by that.'

'What's going on?' JJ asked, walking through the door with Kate in tow. Derek closed the door behind them and went to close the blinds to the bullpen outside.

'I don't know,' Rossi answered, sitting up in his seat further. 'Reid, what are you talking about?'

'Y/N!' Spencer cried, curling his fists by his side so he didn't slam the table or break something, namely his hand. 'You made it out like she was happy, but she was forced to leave!'

Hotch's confusion quickly faded as guilt replaced it. 'That is classified information, Reid,' he said in a quiet voice very unlike the stoic and stern SSA Aaron Hotchner. 'How do you know that?'

'Because she told me herself,' Spencer said, leaning over the table that separated him and his boss. 'Does the name Serena Vanderguff ring a bell?'

It was the most emotions Spencer had ever seen his boss take on in such a small time, because his guilt turned into shock realisation as he turned to the mystery man on the other side of Rossi. 'Why didn't you tell me this was your case already, Steve?'

Steve. Spencer mentally ran through all the unit chiefs in the FBI and only one man came up with that name.

'Steven Holt, Unit Chief of Organised Crime,' Spencer said, eyes flicking to him as recognition dawned on him. 'You were Y/N's old unit chief before she transferred to us.'

Holt let out a sigh that said he knew he'd been caught. 'That's right. Y/N went on a lot of undercover missions for me back before she joined the BAU. She was the best of the best. I came down to inform you of the situation, Hotch...' Holt's gaze flickered to Spencer briefly before returning to hi boss, '...but seems as though you've beaten me to it.'

'I hate to admit that maybe my age is showing,' Rossi started, 'but I'm not following. What has Y/N got to do with any of this?'

'And this isn't old age,' Kate added, 'but I also am not following. Who is Y/N?'

Spencer's gaze flickered to Hotch, who seemed to be having an inner battle about what to do. He looked up at Holt for moment, and Holt nodded.

Hotch nodded back and stood from his seat to address the room properly. 'Eleven months ago, I was contacted by Unit Chief Holt about a potential underground trafficking network that dealt in young girls and women in the prostitute industry. Holt needed a profiler on the team to go undercover and find out who was in charge, then gain their trust, become part of their gang, and report back to the unit.' Hotch turned his attention solely on Holt. 'It wasn't my decision, but the Head Chief specifically requested L/N join the task force for this mission, as she has plenty of experience and success in undercover scenarios. I haven't been privy to anymore details than that, I'm sorry to say, since L/N is technically no longer part of the BAU. I trusted Holt would update us if anything had happened to her.'

'So she didn't leave us?' came Penelope's soft, hopeful voice. Spencer wasn't sure when she'd been phoned in - just now, or maybe before he'd even entered the room - but that meant everyone was there. Everyone was about to hear the truth.

'Not by choice, no,' Hotch said regrettably. Spencer saw and heard his shame, but he couldn't bring himself to feel sorry for his boss right now. Not when he'd lied to for eleven months about the one person Spencer thought would always be there with him.

'I can take it from here, Hotch,' Holt said, also standing to address the room. 'L/N was the best of the best when we first worked together, and these past eleven months have only proven that she still is. She has found proof that girls from each of the establishments she's infiltrated never existed before they were hired at their respective establishments, which for some of them dates back into their mid-to-late teens.'

'Let me guess,' Derek said, 'all four of our victims are some of those girls.'

Holt nodded grimly. 'We believe these girls were just the beginning of an intricate trafficking system where young girls are picked out from low risk communities when they're impressionable, then groomed in the formative years of their lives by their owners before they're given new identities and hired at their owner's establishment. Agent L/N has been hopping from one establishment to the next trying to get a better idea of who these people are that are running it. The managers of each establishment are buyers, but there is a big seller that they're paying that is still unknown. Agent L/N's mission, now that we have a better idea of the linkage between each manager, is to work her way through the upper ranks of the Chateau to find out who that seller is so we can shut down the operation for good.'

He spared a quick glance at Hotch. 'In fact, we think these killings are being caused by the same person. That's why we brought you and your team in, Aaron. The pressure of Federal involvement could cause them to slip up, and we'll be ready to catch them in handcuffs when they do.'

'But we've profiled the unsub as a sadistic, calculative narcissist,' Spencer argued, anger rising in him once more. 'Have you seen what he does to his victims? What if they find out about Y/N? Will she be the next dead body we examine? You have to pull her out of there now!'

'Spence, calm down,' JJ said, but Spencer just brushed her off.

'No, I won't!' he said, voice cracking with annoyance and frustration. 'Because it seems to me like I'm the only one who actually cares about her still. Like you all just forgot about her as if she never existed.'

'Trust me, Reid,' Hotch said gently. 'No one has forgotten about her. But right now she is still our best chance at bringing this whole operation down and bringing these girls' killer to justice. She knew the risks involved, and she's lasted this long. Have some faith in her, Reid.'

'Aren't you forgetting that she was forced into this damn operation?' Spencer spat back. 'She's risking her life because some higher ups were too coward to do the job themselves.'

'Reid, walk with me,' Rossi said, not giving Spencer a chance to reject the instruction as he walked around the table and grabbed his arm so forcefully it almost popped right out of its socket.

They walked to the break room, but Spencer barely registered any of it. His anger was a buzzing white noise in his brain, stopping rational and logical thoughts from computing with his mouth. His heart had a stronger hold on that, it seemed.

'Sit,' Rossi instructed Spencer, pulling out a seat for him to do so. Spencer silently complied while Rossi started to make two coffees at the kitchenette bench.

'...it takes a different kind of smarts to do what we do. Especially if its something we had no choice but to do.'

For eleven months he'd thought you'd left them, left him. Eleven months, anger and grief for the loss of his closest confidant had festered into an ugly, mad creature that's only reason for living was to be angry at you. But you and Spencer had always been good at reading each other, even when your words told a different story entirely. You were someone else now, almost to the point he almost hadn't recognised you underneath all the glitz and glam. But he'd looked into your eyes and he had seen you, your fear, your guilt, your apology.

You hadn't wanted to leave him. And it was that one thought that fuelled his anger at Hotch, at Unit Chief Steven Holt of Organised Crime for all the lies and deceit.

'One cup of sugar with a dash of coffee,' Rossi announced as he placed Spencer's drink on the table he sat at, then pulled up a chair for himself, his own coffee in hand. 'Just how you like it.'

It was then Spencer realised how exhausted he was. Between the early flight, the long car rides, and then seeing you, his body was screaming for a reprieve. However, he couldn't even bring himself to pick up the sweet concoction no matter how much he craved it.

'Eleven months,' Spencer eventually said, his voice meek and quiet compared to the rage it spat out minutes before.

'I know,' Rossi said glumly. 'I can't quite believe it myself. All this time... and she's just been here?'

'I just-' Spencer caught himself, feeling his voice crack at the threat of hot, frustrated tears burning at the back of his eyes. 'Surely they could've let her say goodbye. Or let her contact us from time to time. This isn't like when Emily faked her death and we all believed her gone.'

'You know they couldn't risk it,' Rossi countered. 'This is how undercover operations work, Reid. If she tried contacting us at any point, it could've been her on the M.E.'s slab alongside those girls.'

'Maybe they should've faked her death like Emily,' Spencer muttered, but more to himself than to Rossi. 'Maybe it would've been easier to think she wasn't out there somewhere and just choosing to ignore us.'

'You don't mean that, kid.' Rossi paused for a moment to think about what he would say next. Spencer appreciated that about Rossi, how he always spoke with thought and meaning behind his words. 'Look, I don't like being lied to either, but you and I both know the team couldn't have gone through another cover up like Emily's. Use that logical brain of yours and tell me I'm wrong.'

Spencer tried reaching for an argument, but even he couldn't grasp onto anything even remotely logical to argue with. So he remained silent, prompting Rossi to continue his lecture.

'I understand you and Y/N have something special,' he said gently. 'And I get why you're so upset. But Y/N is an incredible agent who has survived this long before we came into the picture, both before joining the BAU and now. We pull her out now, they will kill her; or we alert them that they have a mole in their network and they go underground and we never catch them. The best we can do to help Y/N right now is to keep playing along. We treat this like any other case, and the quicker we do that, the quicker we can get Y/N back. All right?'

Spencer remained silent for a moment, running Rossi's words over and over again in his head on a loop. Somewhere in there was an image of Maeve, and a sudden wave of sadness hit him. He couldn't go through that again, never again.

He clenched his hands into fists in his lap. It won't. I won't let it.

He forced his gaze to match Rossi's and he silently nodded. Rossi nodded in return, lips upturning slightly. 'All right then,' he said, and pushed Spencer's coffee closer to him. 'Now, drink. We're going to need you at your best if we want to solve this case and bring Y/N home.'

Home.

Amidst his dark thoughts, he found a sliver of warmth in that one word, and what it insinuated. That you belonged with them, you always had.

He took a sip of his drink and was pleasantly surprised at how it tasted exactly how he liked it. The surprise must've extended to his face, as Rossi chuckled and clinked his coffee with his. 'Don't act so surprised. I'm a profiler after all - it's my job to observe behaviours and habits. And you, my nerdy friend, have an exceptionally unhealthy dependency on sugar.'

'Actually, pasta has a higher percentage of causing heart problems in middle-aged to elderly men than sugar because of the amount of carbs on top of sugar is in it,' Spencer stated, taking a sip of his coffee without breaking eye contact with Rossi.

Rossi narrowed his eyes on Spencer. 'Comment on my age and love for pasta again and see what happens.'

And for the first time that day, Spencer smiled.

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 Four

The Way Back Home (Spencer Reid x Reader) - Chapter Four Reader Insert: she/her pronouns Word Count: 5598 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

~~~

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

Madame Lacroix's words looped through your brain as you walked as fast as possible back to the third shitty flat you'd been set up in by your undercover team. You attempted to keep your pace steady but not panicked, unable to shake the feeling that someone was watching you.

The invisible gaze had weighed on you since you'd left the Chateau, since you'd left the meeting. But this new information couldn't wait.

You unlocked the rusty gate to the apartment building, and flew past the bags of garbage that piled up at the doorstep without a single crinkle of your nose - you'd been desensitised to New York's poor pollution a while back. Swift feet carried you up two flights of stairs to your apartment door, where you scrambled for the key to open it.

The moment you stepped over the threshold you finally let the mask of Serena Vanderguff down. Your shoulders sagged as your brain finally recognised the pain in your feet from the six-inch heels you'd been wearing all evening. Despite that, you scrambled to push the heels off, not bothering to place them neatly by the door with the other pairs, and ran for your computer. It was hidden in a false back behind the kitchen sink. Most people would look for a computer in the bedroom or the lounge room, so you'd made the modification in every apartment yourself in case you were broken into by some amateur thieves in the neighbourhood.

You pulled the false back away to reveal the small device and grabbed it out, placing it on the kitchen bench and turning it on. You quickly pulled up the chat room you'd been using to communicate with Holt the whole operation.

You typed a quick message: Face to Home Please.

Not even a minute went by and a reply came: Welcome Home.

A window popped open on your screen with an image of the FBI sigil. You picked up the computer and walked into the bedroom, closing the door behind you. You quickly checked your windows. The moon was on the other side of it's peak; New York was the city that never slept, but it had it's low points, and the precious hours between midnight and sunrise were the perfect time to commit all kinds of crime and other unspeakable things.

You pulled the blinds down once you cleared the street, and sat on your bed as the screen changed from the sigil to the image of a room with a long table and a board in the background. That was odd. It wasn't the usual dark room with just Holt and a headset. Instead, Holt sat in a chair closest to the screen, files spread out in front of him.

But he wasn't the only one in the room.

'L/N, you're on,' he said, but instead of speaking the new information you'd just learned and moving on like you always did, your throat closed up at the sight of familiar faces now swarming the camera.

'Y/N...' JJ breathed out as she took a seat opposite Holt. A beautiful brunette sat beside her that you didn't recognise, only emphasising the missing presence of a certain Alex Blake. It saddened you to think she'd moved on since you'd left - you never even got to say goodbye. But you could've cried at the sight of Hotch and Rossi walking closer to the table with the others. You found Derek leaning on the end of the table beside Spencer, who seemed frozen by the board as he looked at you with everyone else.

This time, you were the one to look at him - at all of them - with shock and surprise, not expecting to see any of them so soon after your initial questioning. Tears stung your eyes, but you remembered you were still wearing makeup and kept them from welling over.

You couldn't help yourself, you raised your hand in a half wave motion, your voice returning. 'Hi,' you said, that one word coming out breathless because the weight that one word carried was almost too much to accept. You hadn't been allowed to be yourself outside your apartment and beyond the one minute conversations you had with Holt once a week.

You had imagined your return to the BAU a hundred times over; you had your explanation ready, your apologies on the tip of your tongue. But now, with the opportunity at your feet, you could barely form a cohesive sentence.

Hotch put you out of your misery, a small smile gracing his stoic features. 'Good to see you, L/N.'

'I second that,' Rossi added, giving a little wave and a smirk back to you. 'Nice hair, by the way.'

You couldn't stop the smile that pulled your lips wide, and it suddenly felt like you were back in the BAU round table room. Like you'd never left.

'Thanks,' you managed out, reaching up to touch the mess of H/C hair on top of your head. 'Not really my style, but then again, I'm not really me right now, so...'

You hadn't meant to bring the mood down, but eleven months was a long time pretending to be someone else. You were starting to forget how you liked your coffee and your style and your way of walking down the street. Just little things, but they added up, and you felt the weight of all the little things you were losing on your shoulders and back everyday.

Your eyes sought out Spencer, half expecting him to look sad or sympathetic like the others. However, what you found was a steeled expression of determination and anger on his handsome features. Not at you (even though he never took his eyes off you), but at the situation you had been put in, you realised.

So he did get my message. That one thought brought a sense of relief to you.

'You had something, L/N.' Holt said it more as a prompt than a question. He knew you wouldn't call up off schedule without a reason, and he didn't want to waste any more time than you already had.

'Yes,' you answered, shoving down your tears, shoving down your delight at seeing your friends, and fell into your other persona: analytical, emotionless undercover operative. 'We were right. There is a big seller that hangs above all the managers heads. They just told me tonight that they have been impressed with my work and so has he. They asked me to join the upper ranks of their scheme.'

'Your work?' Hotch asked.

Holt turned over his shoulder to address everyone. 'L/N has wormed her way into the top spots of each establishment to see where the girls have been coming from, but we've also found out that these places deal in a lot more than just human trafficking. Illicit drugs, money fraud, you name it. These places are screwed a hundred times over when we nail them.'

'So why not make an arrest now, then?' Spencer asked from the back. 'You have enough evidence to do so.'

'Yes, but not on the man that we really want,' Holt replied. 'We make an arrest now, we potentially scare off the seller for good. Girls will keep disappearing, and the killings continue.'

'We figured out that sooner or later, if I offered myself to do the dirty jobs and keep it all quiet, they would learn to trust me,' you explained. 'But I couldn't just do it at one place, I had to do it at as many places as I could to garner trust from multiple witnesses so that their boss would take their recommendation and bring me in himself.'

'And now he has,' Holt added. 'What exactly did they offer you?'

'Each establishment has a spokes girl, for lack of a better word,' you explained, recalling Madame Lacroix's own explanation to you about the Business. 'Roxy was the Chateau's, and these spokes girls would be called in at any time to... appease the seller. It was a sign of good will and thanks from the managers to the man that brings in their workers. I bet anything that that's where Roxy would go on her odd days off, and why she would come back looking like she did.'

'She was his personal play thing...' the brunette said, her tone indicating her disgust to the subject. Her eyes flashed with realisation as she looked directly at you. 'The other girls that were killed, were they also spokes girls from their establishments?'

You weren't surprised that she'd made the link. You didn't know her, but if she was on the team, she must be a good profiler and filled in the gaps.

You nodded. 'All of them. My guess is he wasn't happy with the service he was getting from those girls...'

'Or he could be sending a message to the managers themselves,' JJ finished.

'Maybe it's both,' Rossi offered. 'Maybe he isn't happy with what the managers have turned the girls into since he sold them and this is his way of telling them to pull it together or else.'

'But why twelve stab wounds?' Hotch asked. 'We've profiled this unsub as someone who is calculative and calm. He wouldn't leave those marks without a reason.'

'We've suspected that there may be more than the six establishments that L/N has infiltrated so far,' Holt offered. 'The first kill wasn't planned, based on the jagged and messy stab wounds on her body and the time between the first and second kill. His message wasn't received so he started killing with purpose, making sure that everyone who knew those girls knew who killed them.'

'So you think there are twelve other establishments he runs?' Derek asked. 'And that's who he's trying to warn?'

Holt nodded. 'We've got a list of potential places, but nothing solid like the first six. We figured if we found the guy behind it all, we could shut down everything at once.'

'Well, we think we've found out how these girls are being found,' Hotch said. 'We've been visiting homeless shelters and unofficial orphanages in the quieter, low-risk suburbs where if someone went missing, people wouldn't bother looking for them, not even police. We managed to figure out where the victims and some other missing girls came from including Roxy and her real name.'

'Missy Wright,' JJ added. 'That was her name before she was taken.'

Missy. It didn't sound right; you couldn't imagine that name upon a girl like Roxy. Thinking about it, though, that made sense. Just like you, she'd spent so much time believing she was someone else that her true self was someone completely unrecognisable.

You hated to think that Y/N L/N would be gone for good if you stayed as Serena Vanderguff much longer.

'Garcia is trying to match some more missing girls with the girls in the clubs,' the brunette explained. 'She's also looking into security footage from the aquarium Missy was taken from to see how our unsub did it. Although, whoever this guy is had probably been nabbing girls way before he found Missy, so she might find nothing if he was smart.'

Holt turned back to you. 'We'll keep looking into the girls past, L/N. What else did they tell you about these spokes girls?'

You heard the urgency in his tone. You needed to wrap up in case someone was listening.

'Not much. Just that, after I said yes, they would be in contact with me about having a first meeting.'

'Wait. You said yes?' The question came from Spencer, and you turned down the volume on your computer at how loud he was. He walked down the side of the table until the the bags under this eyes were visible on your small screen. 'Why would you do that?'

You didn't appreciate the tone he spoke with, like he couldn't believe what he heard. As if you'd made a dumb decision.

Your eyebrows furrowed as you narrowed your gaze on Spencer. 'Because this is what we've been working for this whole time. Once I'm in and amongst the dealings, I can gather enough evidence and we can shut this whole operation down for good.'

'You're assuming you won't get caught,' Spencer argued, hands splayed on the table now. 'You have seen what he's done to the girls who haven't given him what he wants, right?'

'I have, which is why I said yes, Spencer.' You never thought the next time you would say his name it would be out of frustration towards him. But it sounded like he didn't trust you. After all the crap you had both been dragged through, you would've thought he of all people would've had your back.

But beneath the anger, you saw his hurt. You saw him sitting at his desk that Monday morning just waiting for you to walk through the doors and maybe ask you out again, not even realising you'd already left. You saw the walls he had rebuilt after you'd worked so hard to pull them down after Maeve's death. The sad irony of it all was that those walls were because of you this time.

So you reigned in your annoyance and said in a steady, calm tone, 'I didn't stop him in time to save Roxy and the others. But there are hundreds of girls that could be next. I won't let him take another girls' life away twice.'

It was silent for a moment, but the moment dragged as you held eye contact with Spencer. You saw his internal battle through the somewhat blurry image of him, and you hoped he saw your own. It sickened you to think about what you were walking into, but you were not going to let another innocent girl be killed because of an impotent, psychopath who got off on overpowering women.

The moment ended when Spencer pushed himself up from the table and stepped away, dropping his gaze from yours for the first time since you'd appeared on screen. It saddened you to think what was going through his head, because you knew that he was blaming himself for your situation. But you were relieved that he dropped the matter for now, at least.

'All right, L/N,' Holt started, standing from his seat. 'That all?'

You dragged your gaze from Spencer back to your unit chief. 'Yes, sir.'

He nodded in approval. 'Okay then. Keep us up to date about this meeting. We'll be in touch.'

'Yes sir,' you said, but instead of signing off straight away, you allowed yourself a few seconds to look at all your friends and give them another wave and small smile. 'I'll see you guys around, then.'

'You got it, kiddo,' Rossi said, waving back.

'See you soon, L/N,' Hotch said.

You spared one last glance at Spencer, whose head had risen again so he could look at you. Determination, once more, steeled his handsome features, giving you hope that he wasn't completely mad at you.

It took all your strength to look away from him and press the button to end the call. One second you were staring at your friends, and the next you were staring at a black screen. You closed the video window and chat group and shut down your laptop.

You finally rubbed at your eyes, not caring if you smudged the makeup anymore. You were about to go take it off anyways before going to bed. It had been a long day, and knowing that you would only get a few hours sleep before the sun rose and you were expected back in at the Chateau for more dirty business, you rose, returned the laptop to its hiding place, and grabbed some takeaway Thai from the fridge.

You would eat, then shower, then go to bed, as you always did day-in and day-out.

Soon enough, you thought as you laid in bed that night, allowing exhaustion to lull you into a dreamless sleep. Soon enough, I won't have to do this anymore. Soon enough, I can go back home.

~~~

Spencer was on the precipice of exploding with so many emotions as you ended the call.

Frustration, hurt, hysteria, confusion. Some of it, he hated to admit, was aimed at you. Only because he wanted you safe, he convinced himself, but the offended look on your face when he'd told you to back down told him that you didn't see it that way.

He couldn't help it though, trying to micro-manage. Change wasn't something he liked. While he easily adapted to any situation he was placed in, that ease didn't always coincide with agreement with Dr. Spencer Reid. You leaving was a big change for him, and since then he'd grown more anxious to be in control of every aspect of his life, including the choices of the people around him.

'...there are hundreds of girls that could be next. I won't let him take another girls' life away twice.'

He rubbed his eyes in exhaustion, brushed away the loose curls drooping into them. He knew why you were doing all of this, why you were risking your life. Your selflessness was one of the many things he adored and admired about you.

The small, selfish gremlin inside of him sometimes, however, wished you weren't so selfless. Especially now.

'I definitely wasn't expecting that hair,' Rossi said, breaking the silence that had filled the room since you ended the call. 'I haven't seen that style since my grandmother died.'

'Well, it seems to have paid off finally,' Holt said, standing from his seat. 'She's in, which means we're only one step away from finding who this creep is that's kidnapping children and then brainwashing them into being prostitutes for his own personal gain.'

'Don't forget that he kills them, too,' JJ added, a worried look shining in her doe eyes. 'If Y/N makes one mistake, she could be in real trouble.'

Spencer gulped down the bile that rose at the image of you lying in the morgue like Roxy and the others, all cut up, beaten and bruised. But his heart tightened with disapproval, as if berating his mind for playing cruel tricks on him, on his faith.

On you.

'She won't.' Spencers words echoed through the room, and it surprised him how calm and steady they rang. Realising everyone was looking at him, he repeated. 'She won't. She's made it this far without our help, and she knows what's at stake. All we can do is support her...' He looked to Rossi then, making eye contact with the man who had over time become his mentor. The salt-and-peppered Italian nodded slightly in approval. '...and have faith that she'll do the right thing.'

'I wouldn't worry too much about that,' Holt said, drawing attention back to him. 'She's got a mini camera hidden that looks like a button she attaches to many of her outfits. Anything she sees, we see. The moment we get eyes on the seller and solid evidence that he's behind all this, we'll swarm in on him before he can even think of running.'

'But we can't just rely on Y/N to get that information for us,' Derek countered. 'We've still got to treat this whole operation as two separate cases. Didn't you mention there might be other establishments that are part of this and that's why the girls are being stabbed twelve times?'

'Morgan's right,' Hotch said, looking to the man in question. 'If we back off now, we may alert them to L/N's involvement. Tomorrow, Morgan, work with JJ, Rossi and Garcia and see if you can find out if more girls from other similar establishments have gone missing or turned up dead mysteriously with the same MO as the current unsub. Kate, Reid and I will go back to other establishments we know and ask them where they have been getting their workers from. It's time to put them under some pressure. For now, though, let's go rest. It's late, and there's nothing else we can do until tomorrow.'

Spencer didn't like the thought of another night of you sleeping wherever it was you were chatting from - you must have been in a small room with dark green walls as your voice didn't echo; no light flooded in but you would've pulled the blinds down to ensure your privacy, so you were staying somewhere busy where people could see into your window if the blinds were up. Most likely some sleazy apartment building in lower Manhattan so you could walk to the Chateau in a hurry if needed.

Spencer didn't like that thought at all, but Hotch was right. They couldn't do anything until morning, so might as well try and sleep before chaos unfurls completely. But before Spencer could pack up his satchel bag, his boss called his name.

'Reid,' Hotch called gently, pausing Spencer's motions while everyone else exited. 'I'm bringing you along tomorrow because I need your questioning skills, but I need to know that you're going to be impartial to the matter when we question Madame Lacroix and other employees at the Chateau. Can you do that?'

Hotch didn't mention you at all, but Spencer knew that you were what his boss meant. Silently he was asking: can you keep your cool around Y/N?

In every other circumstance, no. He could barely breathe when you were near him, even then when he saw you on a giant monitor covered up by a mask that made you almost unrecognisable. But what you were doing was important work, otherwise you wouldn't have left him without so much as a goodbye, or even left at all. You'd suffered eleven months for this, he would not screw this up for you even if all he wanted was to bring you back home.

Back to him.

So he nodded, confidently and with purpose. He felt like an imposter doing so, but it was convincing enough to Hotch, as he nodded in return. 'Good. Now let's go rest. I don't think we'll get another break like this for a while.'

~~~

Spencer could just tell the Pit was going to be loud before he'd even stepped inside the Chateau itself. The noise was only amplified by the neon lights that flashed and waved all over the dark room as he followed Hotch and Kate down the stairs into it.

They'd spent the majority of the day going all over New York asking the same questions to the other establishments. Some genuinely didn't seem to know, speaking to their lack of involvement with the Business, while others went on the defensive straight away and lawyered up. They might as well have stamped GUILTY all over their foreheads.

The Chateau was their final stop. Unfortunately it appeared to be peak hour currently, as Spencer could barely squeeze through people to get to the bar it was so packed. But they managed, and were greeted by a beautiful woman with charcoal skin, dark eyes and rainbow braids that picked up the neon strobe lights brilliantly.

She looked up from the drinks she was making - some sort of vodka concoction and scotch on ice. 'Sorry, sir. Won't be a moment.'

Hotch pulled his FBI badge out and flashed it at her. 'Actually, we're not here for a drink. Where can we find your boss, Madame Lacroix?'

The woman finished the drinks and placed them on the bar where another girl put them on a tray and left. She wiped her hands on the towel over her shoulder, face dipping with sadness. 'This is about Roxy, isn't it?'

'We just have a few more questions we think your boss can clear up,' Kate injected.

The woman nodded, turning to her left and pointing to Madame Lacroix's office that Derek had gone to only a few days ago. 'She should be in her office. That's where she usually is on busy nights like this.'

'Thank you,' Hotch said before turning to talk with Kate and Spencer only. 'Stay here and see if anyone would be willing to talk about where they've come from or anything else about how this place started up.'

They both nodded as Hotch left for the office, disappearing within the crowd. Kate turned to Spencer then. 'I'll talk to the bar staff first.'

'All right,' he said. 'I'll scope out the floor.'

Kate smiled. 'Don't get lost on the dance floor, now.'

'I won't,' Spencer replied, amusement on his lips. Kate spared him one last smile before turning back around to speak with the bartender. Spencer took that as his cue and turned to walk into the fray of sweaty bodies and clouds of smoke.

He tried not to focus on how many germs were being passed around between the number of people pressed together as he squeezed through. He needed to be looking for girls that were younger than the rest, most likely new. They would be the ones to talk.

Keen, calculative eyes landed on a girl no older than twenty with long, strawberry-blonde hair, doe eyes and a skimpy lilac coloured outfit sitting on an older gentlemen's lap. There was another man there too, the three of them sitting around a small table as they chatted and the men laughed occasionally. And while she laughed and smiled with them, Spencer could just tell she wasn't having a good time.

It stirred a sickening swirl inside of him at the sight, spurring him to walk at such a pace he almost knocked a few people over. 'Sorry gentlemen, but I need a moment with, ah...'

'Lavender,' the girl kindly offered, and Spencer noticed the hope that glimmered in her innocent eyes.

'Hey, now wait just a minute,' the man that Lavender sat on said, his words slurred, clearly intoxicated. 'Did you pay for her time? No? Then scram.'

The man grasped at Lavender's hips possessively, fuelling Spencer's disgust and anger more. He pulled his badge out and shoved it in the men's faces. 'I'm with the FBI, and we're conducting an investigating that you're obstructing right now. So get your drunken hands off Lavender and-'

'Wow, doll face! Aren't you a cutie!'

Spencer couldn't finish his sentence as he was pulled sharply away from Lavender and the men and dragged through a sea of people. He was shoved into a private booth where his kidnapper closed the curtains in a flurry and only turned around when she was sure they were the only two in the room.

It shouldn't have surprised him when you turned around, your hair puffed up, face dolled up, and a red dress sticking to you like a second skin as you stormed over to him in your matching six-inch shoes.

'What do you think you're doing here?' you asked in a harsh whisper, your Brooklyn accent dropped in favour of showcasing your annoyance at him. 'You can't just go throwing your badge in front of big shot men like them. Do you even know who they are?'

'I was just asking a question,' Spencer argued, making sure to match your whisper with his own. 'And they were obstructing my investigation. I mean, they had their hands all over her-'

'Because that is what she is paid to let happen to her,' you interrupted, sitting beside him with a sigh of exhaustion. It was, after all, just before midnight, and the night was still young. 'I don't like it either, but we can't do anything about it. Hopefully those doofuses didn't see your name so they don't know who to complain about.'

Spencer looked around the room, but it was too dark to see into the top corners. 'You're not worried you'll be caught?' You'd dropped your accent without a second thought, so he assumed the booth was somewhat safe from prying eyes and eavesdroppers.

You shook your head, brushing a puffy piece of your hair out of your face. 'These booths are used to do some... well, I think you know what kind of things happen back here. It wouldn't be good for business if any footage of what happens behind closed curtains got out, so Madame Lacroix eliminated the risk.'

It was as if you both finally realised that you were the only two in the room. No cameras, no overbearing bosses (on both sides). Just you and him.

Synchronistically, you and him wrapped your arms around each other, holding one another in a tender embrace that spoke volumes of the time that passed and all the hugs you'd missed in that time.

Everything you'd miss in that time.

'I'm sorry,' you spoke first, words muffled by Spencer's shoulder. 'I'm so sorry.'

'No, no, don't be,' Spencer soothed, hating how you felt you were the one to blame for the mess you both had landed in. 'This isn't your fault. You had no choice.'

You pulled away from him at the threat of tears, but you kept your hands clasped within his, finding his warmth comforting in the depths of the Pit. You blinked rapidly as you looked upwards, stabilising yourself. 'No. But it's the right thing to do. And we're so close, I can feel it.'

He brushed his thumb over your knuckles. If only that action could swipe away all the guilt and pain you'd experienced for so long. 'I know... I just wish you didn't have to keep being someone else. I've missed you.'

Your smile filled a small part of the hole you'd left in him when you'd left, though it was tinged with sadness. 'There hasn't been a day I haven't thought about you guys, that maybe one phone call wouldn't have compromised the mission.' You let out a deep breath, and your smile slips into a flat line. 'What are you doing here, really?'

'Hotch is putting some pressure on Madame Lacroix by asking about how she gets her employees,' Spencer answered. 'Hopefully that will prompt her to get you that meeting with the seller faster.'

'Or blow the whole case apart,' you countered, brows furrowing with worry. 'There's been no mention of human trafficking so far in Roxy and the others girls' murders. Madame Lacroix will get suspicious.'

'Which is what we're betting on.'

You rolled your bottom lip between your teeth in a combination of concentration and frustration. 'That's quite a risk you're taking there, Spence.'

'So is what you're doing,' he said, squeezing your hand in his. 'We're going to end this, I promise. And then you're going to come back to the BAU, and... it'll be like you never left.'

'Alex is gone.'

He doesn't hide his surprise at your words, as you spoke them more like a statement than question. But, just like him, you were a profiler. You were paid to be observant.

'I didn't see her in the video chat last night,' you explained, though Spencer didn't ask for one. 'After this is all over, I'll give her a call.'

'I'm sure she'd like that,' Spencer said softly, a melancholic feeling saddening him at the thought of his absent friend. 'Kate's nice though. She has a daughter, though she's not Kate's. Kate's technically her aunt, but her sister died in 9/11 alongside her husband, leaving the kid an orphan.'

'So she took her in.' Your smile returned ever so slightly. 'I'd say that's more than nice, Spence, and more like what a saint would do. She sounds like a great addition to the team.'

You spoke the last sentence with a hopelessness Spencer did not like one bit. Like you'd given up on coming back to the team - coming back to him - a long time ago.

'Hey,' he said, pulling himself closer to you. 'Don't be like that. You're going to come home. I won't let this end any other way.'

You opened your mouth to reply, but the rumbling of footsteps alerted you both to newcomers that didn't understand the meaning of curtains closed. You reacted quicker than Spencer, who just sat frozen in terror at being exposed or caught or he really didn't know what, just that he was terrified.

You unravelled your hands from his, and instead clasped them around his neck so you could pull yourself onto his lap, barely-covered breasts pressed dangerously close to Spencer's face. He was so used to being above you that he never imagined what it would be like to have the roles reversed.

Was it possible to be simultaneously embarrassed and happy at the same time? According to Dr Spencer Reid, the answer was yes.

He consciously placed his hands on your hips just as the curtains to the booth were reefed open and an overtly drunken man stumbled in with another Chateau girl on his arm, this time a dark-haired beauty with tan skin and dark eyes.

'Sorry, Nadia,' you said, Brooklyn intonations slipping easily from your tongue as you smiled devilishly. 'This booth's taken.'

'Oops!' Nadia squeaked, turning to the man with laughter. 'Sorry!'

And once more the curtains were closed. And it was just Spencer with you.

And your chest pressed right into his face.

You let out a sigh of relief before returning your attention to Spencer. You had to look down to get a proper angle at him, and despite your gaudy makeup and exaggerated hair and jewellery, he couldn't have thought of a more beautiful sight than looking up at you in that moment.

You looked so angelic, your lips so sweet and kissable-

'Well, that was close,' you breathed out, and Spencer heard your heart pounding even without his head pressed to your chest anymore.

Spencer swallowed thickly. 'Yeah,' was all he could manage without making a fool out of himself. He was alarmingly aware of his hands still holding your hips, but he couldn't bring himself to let go of you just yet.

You leant back a little, still not hopping off him, and pointed to one of the black-domed buttons lining the front of your dress. 'Holt has a feed directly linked to this,' you explained in a hushed voice. 'Madame Lacroix said I would be meeting the seller later tonight, so you better be watching.'

Only when he nodded did you make an effort to get off him much to Spencer's disappointment. He'd hugged and held you many times before - but maybe because this time was more intimate, or because there had been so much time since you'd last been together - but he craved your touch again. Soon, he told himself, and he kept his hands at his side.

You stood up and so did he, but just as you went for the curtain, he gently grabbed your wrist. 'Hey, uh,' he started, unsure if now was the right time to ask or not. But all things considered, would it ever be the right time? Throwing caution to the wind, he asked, 'What would you have said? That night I asked you out. Yes or no?'

That one unknown answer had been torturing him for months, mainly because he'd thought you left them all behind without a single thought. But he knew better now. He knew it hadn't been your fault you couldn't say or promise him anything.

Now - now there was hope again.

You stared at him for what felt like an eternity to Spencer, mouth moving but no words coming out. Your hesitation to answer saddened him. Maybe he'd read the signs wrong. Maybe all you'd ever wanted to be was his best friend. Had he just ruined your friendship twice by asking that damned, schoolboy question?

Again, you couldn't answer, as another man with a prostitute came barreling through the curtains.

'Oh, looks like we have some company,' the girl said, but not making any move to leave with the attractive gentleman on her arm.

'Don't worry,' you said, gripping Spencer's shoulder and guiding him out of the booth. 'Doll face here was just leaving.'

You shoved him and he stumbled back into the messy, sweaty fray that was the Pit as you closed the curtains behind you.

'Hope you enjoyed your time, doll face,' you said, the guise of Serena Vanderguff slipping back on scarily so. You flashed him a sickeningly wide smile as you held out your hand for a shake. 'If you want more, you know where to find me.'

And just like that - you disappeared into the sea of bodies that somehow seemed to have increased since Spencer left for only a few minutes. Spencer had half a thought to chase you, find out your answer once and for all, but there were too many people watching. He would only cause a scene.

'There you are.' Kate's voice prompted him to spin around and be greeted by the woman in question as well as Hotch, obviously having finished his interview with Madame Lacroix.

'Was that Serena just now?' Hotch asked in a quiet voice, but loud enough for Spencer to hear over the loud music.

Spencer nodded. 'She said something is going down tonight. What did you find out?'

'Lawyered up in the end. She's definitely hiding something. Anything from you, Kate?'

'I tried asking a few girls, but they all seized up or ignored me. They appear trained that way, just like we suspected. Brainwashed, of some kind.'

'All right,' Hotch said. 'Let's get back to the office. L/N's feed is our only lead now.'

Spencer followed his colleagues through the Pit to the exiting stairs, all the while looking for you. He couldn't find you, however. Maybe she's already having the meeting, he thought. If so, he just hoped you wouldn't do anything stupid in the mean time.

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.

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

The Way Back Home (Spencer Reid x Reader) - Chapter Six Reader Insert: she/her pronouns Word Count: 6407 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 at the blank screen, mortification petrifying him in place. He was unable to tear his eyes away from where'd he'd last seen your face just before Walter Khan's boot crushed their feed.

Him, Hotch and Kate had arrived back at the station by the time you'd been placed in the car. The further you were driven, the more glitchy the feed became. Some words didn't come through, images flickered every now and again. The camera wasn't able to catch all of what went down during the meeting, but you'd made sure to get a good look at the big seller, knowing your team would use his image to find out who he was and find out where he would be hiding out.

Spencer had to hold back vomit whenever Khan went close to you, no doubt putting his disgusting, murderous hands all over you. Even more so when you'd been taken to the Warehouse and saw the girls, saw the torture display in the middle of the room. How many girls had dangled in the middle of that room and suffered his torture? How young had they been?

When you began walking to the meeting room, Spencer had thought you'd made it out of there. That you were finally coming home.

But you had turned around, ran back for those innocent girls. You had been caught, your pained cries whenever Walter punched you still ringing in Spencer's ears.

The worst part, though, was Khan had known the whole time.

'Did you guys hear that? You think you outsmarted me? Think again.'

That's when the line went dead, squashed under Khan's boot. But not before he caught a glimpse of your face. Blood gushing from your nose down your chin, hand clutching at your ribs where you'd been punched. However, a fire of defiance burned bright in your E/C eyes, visible even from the low angle.

But that did nothing to quell the rising wave of anger and fear in Spencer, raging like a tsunami higher and higher with each passing second the screen remained dead.

Where you had disappeared from in the blink of an eye; and there was nothing Spencer could do about it.

'Get it back up,' Spencer found himself demanding. To who, he really didn't know. When no one answered, the wave rose higher. 'Get it back up!'

'I-I'm trying!" Penelope cried over the speaker phone. 'Wherever they took her, they did well to make sure no cell towers were near it. Or they have really good cell blocks that pretty much render them invisible. That's what made the feed so glitchy, they're like in the middle of nowhere.'

'What about the camera? Can you track it?'

'Yes, but again, the cell blocks blocked that signal too. I can't tell you where they went outside of lower Manhattan.'

The urge to scream was almost unbearable. Instead, Spencer drove his fingers through his unruly hair, pulling at longer strands harshly to get his mind to focus on something else momentarily. This couldn't be happening. You were safe, you were home free. Damnit, why did you have to go back?

'Alert train stations south bound that drivers and passengers should keep their eyes out for those girls along any tracks,' Hotch commanded to Holt. 'Send as many officers out along those tracks from the nearest stations. Those girls are the key to finding L/N, but they're being hunted so we need to find them first.'

'Of course,' Holt managed to get out, his face pale with terror. Good, Spencer thought. Holt at least had half a mind to look guilty, considering he was the one that put you there.

'I'll go with you, we'll need as many people on the ground as we can,' Derek offered, to which Hotch nodded his approval and Derek jogged after Holt as he ran back into the office.

Spencer's feet moved before his mouth did, halfway to the door before he said, 'I'm going, too.'

'No,' Hotch said. 'I need you to stay here and work with Garcia on a geographical profile on Walter Khan. Find out everything about him, more importantly whether he has any major properties south of Manhattan he could be operating out of.'

Spencer opened his mouth to argue. How could Hotch expect him to sit idly by a map while you were with the unsub being beaten or worse...

A gentle hand gripped his shoulder, forcing him to look down at a concerned-looking JJ. 'Don't worry, Spence,' she said softly. 'Kate and I will go help as well. You and Pen are the only ones who can figure this out, so the sooner you do that, the quicker we can bring Y/N home, okay?'

Usually, the logical answer presented itself in Spencer's mind first. What JJ said was the most logical explanation, he knew. Even so, his heart yearned to find Walter Khan and wring his neck for all he was worth. It was an overwhelming urge, similar to the one he had when on his dilaudid addiction many years ago.

The memories of what that addiction did to him - how it almost destroyed his life - was what brought him back to his logical conclusion.

He nodded at JJ and stepped aside so her and Kate could follow Derek. Kate gave him a sympathetic smile and a gentle squeeze of his upper arm, then her and JJ were gone. That left himself, Rossi, Penelope on the phone, and Hotch.

'Dave,' Hotch said, 'You and I are going down to the Chateau and questioning Madame Lacroix. She's got to be back there by now. And she's going to tell us everything she knows about the operation this time.'

'Whether she likes it or not,' Rossi added, nodding at Hotch in agreement as he made to pick up his coat from the chair he'd previously been sitting on.

'Waitwaitwaitwait!' The high pitch urgency of Penelope's voice halted Hotch and Rossi's movements as her face appeared on the huge screen, scrunched with worry.

'What is it, Garcia?' Hotch asked.

'I've been trying to track Y/N's camera location since she got to wherever they're holding her,' she explained, her voice a little high-pitched in desperation. She continued typing furiously on her keyboard as she did.

'You found her?' Spencer asked, his voice desperate, hopeful.

'I wish I could say yes, boy wonder,' she apologised. 'However, while tracking, an unknown window popped up. Check this out...'

Another few clicks on her end and a window - the one she found - popped up beside Penelope's face. The image in that window, however, had Spencer's stomach plummeting through the ground.

You hung with your hands above your head by a chain in the middle of a room, your now bare feet just scraping along the hay that lay all around the floor. You were back in the Warehouse, in the place where you'd shown Spencer and the team where the girls were held and-

'Oh my God,' Penelope breathed out, voice trembling with horror at your beaten state. The camera appeared to be setup on a tripod, keeping your entire body in frame. They'd all seen you fight, but only now could they see the damage you'd taken.

Blood dripped from your nose, down your chin and had already stained the front of your dress a deeper scarlet. Your breaths were laboured, as if you were concentrating on keeping yourself from passing out. You were too far away to make out any other injuries, but Spencer had no doubt the bruises hadn't come out just yet.

'Garcia,' Hotch began, but even in her shocked state, Penelope answered.

'Already on it, sir,' she said, ignoring the tears running down her cheeks to type into her keyboard. 'Triangulating where the feed is coming from.'

It was like the world was slowing down for Spencer the longer he looked at you hanging there. The team had always joked that his IQ always slashed in half whenever he was around you. But that was usually because he couldn't find the words to talk to you properly, how to articulate in the right words just exactly how you made him feel.

In a way, the same thing was happening to him right now, but he couldn't move, couldn't speak, couldn't think because of terror. Because of Walter Khan, who finally strolled into frame, suit jacket discarded and the sleeves of his white shirt rolled up. His rings glinted under the fluorescent lights as he waved at the camera, a smug grin on his face.

'Hi there, FBI,' he said in a sing-song voice. He looked over his shoulder, shuffled so the camera could see you again. 'Say hi to your friends, Y/N. I'm sure they're just... so happy to see you.'

You didn't respond, keeping your gaze just south of the camera, barely blinking. 'She's disassociating,' Rossi stated, recognising like Spencer, that far away look in your eyes. 'She's preparing for torture.'

Spencer gulped as Khan walked over to you slowly, prowling around you like a predator admiring his catch for the night. He remained silent as he did, and Spencer wondered for a moment if that was all he was going to do.

With the speed of a striking snake, however, he gripped your chin with one hand, the chain holding you rattling as you tried and failed to pull away. Grunts of effort escaped you as he forced you to look at the camera.

'Now, now, Y/N,' he cooed, brushing your loose hair away from your face with his free hand. 'There's no need to be shy. Say something.'

Before you could even react, he slammed his fist into your stomach, ripping a pained groan from you. But not a scream. You bit your lip hard. You probably didn't want to give Khan the satisfaction of hearing your pain. A small, hopeful part inside Spencer warmed with pride at your resilience.

Khan let go of your face and took a step back, eyes raking you up and down with a sick, sadistic admiration. 'So you think you're tough, huh?' he challenged, walking to stand behind you and place both hands on your right shoulder. 'Come on, don't hold back those beautiful sounds, baby.'

In one sharp motion, he pressed either side of your shoulder in opposite directions, causing a loud pop to echo through the room. A sharp squeak escaped your lips, but you bit down on your lip again, allowing nothing else out. The light glinted off the tears that brimmed your E/C eyes, but they did not fall. You would not let them, Spencer realised.

Khan's lips split into a sadistic grin, one that clearly revelled in the pain he brought to you. Fire stirred in the pit of Spencer's stomach, which then spread through his limbs, to the tips of his fingers, toes and head.

Never in his life had he had the greater urge to physically harm someone than Walter Khan in that moment.

'So beautiful,' Khan continued, his gentle strokes across your bloodied chin a stark contrast to his previous harsh movement. 'I knew you'd be my favourite the moment you walked through the door. You're not like other girls...'

Bile rose in Spencer's throat when Khan leaned in close to you and tried to kiss you on the lips. You still had enough strength in you to turn away so he brushed your cheek instead. When Khan tried to tilt your head to kiss you properly, you lashed out with your teeth, catching his upper lip and yanking on it. Hard.

Khan pulled back at the sudden attack with an agonised cry, clasping both hands on his lip. Blood seeped through his hands, and when he pulled away, Spencer saw that Khan's teeth and chin were covered in blood.

'Bitch,' he swore, slamming a fist a little higher than your stomach this time, no doubt breaking some ribs. You sucked in air loudly, your gasp masking the cry that Spencer could tell wanted to come out. God, she must be in so much pain. It sickened Spencer knowing what was happening to you and not being able to do anything about it.

'Garcia, anything?' Hotch asked, his usually steady voice cracking with worry as he continued to look at the screen.

'I'm trying, sir. I'm trying!' she cried.

As if sensing their urgency, Khan looked back to the camera and walked back over until only he was in the frame. Drops of blood stained his white shirt, but he didn't seem to notice as he grinned maniacally into the camera. Although Spencer knew he couldn't see them, he felt like Khan was looking directly at him, taunting him, challenging him.

'By the time you find her,' he began, 'she'll be dead. And I'll be long gone. Until next time, FBI.'

Walter Khan's smile was the last thing Spencer saw before the screen went black and the window closed and now it was only him, Penelope, Hotch and Rossi again.

'I-I'm sorry, sir,' Penelope managed out, her voice barely higher than a whisper. 'I-I-I couldn't f-find her. The signal was being rerouted all across the world.'

'We've got to move fast,' Hotch said, and him and Rossi were gone.

Spencer didn't say a word to begin with, unable to get the image of you hanging in that torture chamber out of his head.

By the time you find her, she'll be dead.

He never thought anyone of his team mates would go out being killed in action. Plenty have come and gone from the team, but not been killed. In some naive way, he figured you all were invincible - that nothing would tear you apart.

But after discovering Gideon dead only a few weeks ago, that fantasy of the team staying together forever was cracked. With your life now on the line, too, the cracks were starting to get bigger, with some pieces falling away entirely.

'Spencer,' Penelope's gentle voice brought him out of his own bubble of despair. 'I'm so sorry.'

The overwhelming urge to scream welled up in him - he didn't quite know for who or for what he wanted to scream at, just that it sounded like a better action to take than punching someone. But he didn't scream.

Instead, he gathered himself and turned to look at Penelope, face steeled by sheer will because he had to keep it together if he wanted to bring you home. 'It's Khan who should be sorry,' he replied, voice steady with threat. 'Let's get to work.'

~~~

Pain. It's all you felt. Even three hours later after Khan's beating, you still felt the ghost of his fist pounding into your stomach, into your ribcage. A sharp, piercing pain ricocheted through them whenever you inhaled too quickly. Definitely two or three broken, you concluded.

You laid on the hay on the floor. Khan had lowered your chain which alleviated some pain and pressure from your dislocated shoulder and bruising wrists. But he hadn't done it to help you. 'Don't want you breaking too soon, Y/N,' he had whispered to you when he'd laid you gently to rest. And from his accompanying smile, you knew it was just all a game to him.

He'd been gone for three hours - counting the time helped you forget the pain and terror wracking your body. Despite that, you hadn't allowed yourself to sleep. Daylight seeped through the top windows, bathing you in a warm glow that made you shiver with momentary bliss. You didn't realise how cold you were until the rays hit you.

The metallic taste of blood still haunted your lips even now that your nose had stopped running with it. It still throbbed though, but it was a dull ache in comparison to your shoulder. You could only imagine how rough you looked, and not in a good way.

The thought made you smile, if only for a moment.

The soft patter of footsteps made you sit upright despite your pain, made you pull your hands close to your chest and look at the door as it opened. You kept your face neutral as you watched Walter Khan walk in alone. He wore a new suit today: navy blue with a lilac undershirt and a navy tie with lighter blue and purple flowers embroidered onto it randomly. God, he was pretentious in every manner of the word.

He didn't walk to you straight away as you expected. Instead, he walked over to the table of torture devices to a remote hanging from the ceiling just above it. He pressed the upper button and suddenly you were jerked upwards as the chain retracted higher. You couldn't contain the yelp of pain that escaped you as your arms were pulled harshly over your head once more, placing intense pressure on your throbbing shoulder once more. He let go of the button just before your feet left the ground entirely.

Satisfied, he grabbed a clean towel and a bucket that sat underneath the table. He picked them both up and walked over to you, placed them both on the ground as he continued to look you over. He did that for a minute in silence before you couldn't take it anymore.

'What?' you asked in mock confusion. 'Have I got something on my face?'

You hated how that brought a smile to his ugly face. 'You really should lay off on the moxie, sweetheart,' he said, crouching to wet the towel in the bucket before standing back up to continue talking. 'I really do like that in a girl.'

'Girl, huh? That your preferred age?'

He shrugged, bringing the towel up to your face. Before you could lean away, he used his free hand to grip your chin, keeping you with a firm hold in place as he dabbed the wet towel across your chin, around your nose, and across your lips.

He was cleaning you up.

You were more confused than disgusted. Perhaps a little relieved to be rid of the taste of blood finally, but you would never admit that. If his goal was to kill you, why bother cleaning you up?

His dabs at your face were uncharacteristically soft. 'You've done this before,' you said, only now realising how hoarse your throat was from dehydration and the cold air.

He nodded, his eyes never straying from his task. 'I prefer my girls to be... cleaner than other ones.' He meant other prostitutes, other establishments, you realised. It was a compulsion, even knowing you weren't one of his "girls".

'Would you have to clean Roxy and the others up, too?' you asked despite knowing the answer. 'You get off on seeing others bleed, don't you Khan. It wasn't enough that you would use them, strip them of their dignity, as if they were just toys.'

One second you were breathing air, the next you were choking underneath the crushing pressure that was Khan's grip. His hold was so strong it had you seeing stars in seconds.

'I would stop talking if I were you, bitch,' he hissed, venom dripping from every word. His calm demeanour remained intact, but even with your blurred vision you saw an animalistic rage burning in his eyes.

A caged animal just waiting to be unleashed.

'You don't know anything about me,' he continued. 'And you don't know the half of what I am capable of.'

His grip on you eased a little but not completely. However, it was enough for you to find your voice again. 'I know,' you started, voice slightly wheezy from the lack of air, 'you must have suffered under the hands of someone, probably a woman in the prostitution business, when you were younger. Otherwise... why would you hate women so much?'

He gave you a strange look, one that was sceptical, angry, and intrigued at the same time. Good, if he was off guard, he might slip up and give you something of value.

'Was it your mother?' you asked. 'A sister, aunt?' When he didn't answer you continued. 'Whoever it was must be the reason why you feel as if you've been let down your entire life. That's why you built this empire, isn't it? But even now, successful and thriving off others' pain... that person made you feel you are not enough, and so nothing ever will be. But that person is gone, and you can't show them how successful you've been. That's why you hurt others, right? Because, not only can't you hurt her, you refuse to hurt the one person you hate the most... yourself.'

He stepped back from you completely, and, for the first time, his calm facade breaks to show slivers of horror and shock at your observation. Looks like I hit the nail on the head.

He looked at you for a moment longer, that haunted expression on his face making him look more sick as he shadows of birds flew over his face. You became concerned when he suddenly ran out of the room, leaving you hanging with a clean face and more questions than answers.

You had gotten under his skin; he'd shown you a weak point in his life that you could use against him. He'd looked rattled, which made you more scared than when he was calm. Walter Khan didn't strike you as the kind of man that didn't always make sure he had the upper hand in every situation he walked into. But when he didn't, when he was backed into a corner...

Caged animal waiting to be unleashed.

'What have I done?' you asked into the empty room, but you were still surprised when no one answered back.

~~~

When his vision began splitting in two, Spencer rubbed at his tired eyes. He'd been staring at the map the police station had provided for over five hours now. Him and Penelope had found nothing - no properties in his name, no previous history in the areas, nothing.

But Spencer had kept looking though, refusing to believe that Walter Khan's trail went cold here. Not when he was doing who knew what to you. It was the only thought that kept him motivated, kept his tired eyes from closing entirely on him despite their great protest.

The rising sun wasn't helping with his vision either. After being awake all night, the introduction to natural light and blue skies was a shock to the system he was still adjusting to.

'Any updates from Morgan, JJ or Kate?' he asked, his voice rumbling with exhaustion.

Penelope had remained on the video feed since the others had left, refusing to leave Spencer alone. Maybe she thought he would do something reckless without supervision. If he was being honest, he couldn't blame her for thinking that, not when the murderous urge to strangle Khan with all Spencer's might tingled the tips of his fingers.

Or maybe that was the twelve cups of coffee he'd had in the past five hours finally kicking in.

'Not yet, sorry.' Penelope said wistfully, blinking several times as she continued looking at a screen off to the side of the camera. Even in her tired state, she refused to rub at her face like Spencer in order to preserve her glorious makeup. Spencer had to admit it was impressive. She had a lot more self control than she gave herself credit for.

Just the thought alone had him rubbing his eyes again. 'Are you sure there isn't anything we've missed? What about Q25, Garcia? What's there?'

'Nothing but trees once more, boy wonder.' She heaved a sad, frustrated sigh. 'We've been looking at the same area for hours now and still nothing! What am I doing wrong?'

'It's not you, Garcia,' Spencer offered politely. Truthfully, he simultaneously felt no one was doing enough to find you, and yet they were exhausting everything they could to do so. But he was the one who promised to bring you home, who said it would all be over soon.

It was his fault you were still not found. There was something he wasn't seeing, and every second his supposedly big brain spent trying to figure it out was another second you could be being tortured.

He didn't let the thought that maybe you were already dead linger too long. Not when Hotch and Rossi stormed into the room, exhaustion and anger lining their weary faces. Spencer glanced behind them to see Madame Lacroix and two other men - one older with grey hair, the other much younger - being escorted into holding cells down the corridor.

'Madame Lacroix was a dead end,' Hotch explained before anyone could ask. 'But we managed to expose them for their involvement in Khan's business, and also the other illegal trades they've all been dealing with on the side. L/N's reports and photographs should be enough evidence to charge them on at least that.'

'But we can't bust them just yet on Khan,' Rossi added, his tone defeated. 'Any luck on the geo-profile?'

Spencer shook his head regrettably. 'There are no properties or anything that may indicate he has ties in the direction we think he's operating out of.'

'It's either just woodland or innocent estate living,' Penelope added. 'All names check out, they're not aliases.'

'Morgan, JJ, and Kate better find those girls soon then,' Rossi said. 'They seem to be our only guide to where Khan is hiding out.'

'The thing that is odd to me though,' Hotch started, 'is why he is hanging around. Why not kill L/N knowing she's an agent? Why not skip town or relocate as soon as possible?'

'Because it's a compulsion now,' Spencer found himself saying. He wasn't sure if it was from lack of sleep that he sounded delusional, but he kept talking. He needed to talk, anything to keep his mind off the alternatives. 'Y/N engrained herself so much into his operation that he may have deluded himself into thinking he can make her one of his girls for real.'

'So he'll keep her and use her just like the others,' Rossi said grimly. 'And when she eventually lets him down - as they all have - he'll kill her.'

'We'll find her before it gets to that point,' Hotch said so assuredly that Spencer almost believed it. But the odds were against them, and time was running out.

As if the universe was listening in, Penelope's gasp sent tremors of terror through Spencer as they all turned to her on the screen. 'Guys! The feed is back online!'

'Pull it up and start tracking it,' Hotch ordered, and Penelope didn't need telling twice as she did just that.

You were hanging again, but the blood that covered the lower half of your face was now gone. Your dress was ruffled and dirty in some places, and straws of hay were tangled in your messy hair. He must've lowered you for the remainder of the night, but from the dark circles under your weary eyes, Spencer guessed you hadn't slept.

'He cleaned her up,' Rossi noticed too.

'That's a good thing right?' Penelope said, pausing her tracking for a second.

'No,' Spencer replied. 'It means he's got more in store for her.'

'You were right, Reid. It's a compulsion,' Rossi added.

'Keep tracking, Garcia,' Hotch said.

And there he was.

Walter Khan entered the frame, but instead of taunting them through the camera like last time, he walked straight over to you as if the camera wasn't even on. He grasped your chin, causing you to jerk backwards with a gasp.

'How did you know that?' he asked, voice tight and restrained. When you didn't answer, he pulled you closer with a harsh tug that caused the chains to rattle. 'How did you know?!'

'Lucky... Lucky guess, I suppose,' you replied, eyes flicking from Khan to the camera and back. Something had happened between the last feed and now, Spencer concluded. Some interaction that has brought out the frantic Khan.

'No!' He slapped you, sending you spinning around on the chain. When you swung back towards the camera, the sun highlighted the blood on your lip, how it trembled as you did. 'You knew about my life! No one does! So how would an undercover agent of all people know?'

'Maybe you're just... not as slick as you think you are,' you said in between haggard breaths. Spencer could only imagine how much pain you were in. He was both extremely proud of and extremely terrified for you.

Khan let out a growl that rattled the conference room it was that loud. He lashed out with a hard punch to your gut, then a slanted punch on your knee, receiving a loud crunch and crack in return.

For the first time since being caught, you screamed. It was the most horrible sound Spencer had ever heard in his life - even worse than the gunshot that killed Maeve. It echoed through the Warehouse, a guttural, pained sound that would haunt not only Spencer's dreams but Hotch, Rossi, and Penelope's too.

You gathered yourself quickly and bit down on your lip, silencing your cries. Sunlight showed the tears that gathered at your eyes, still refusing to fall. But Spencer could tell it was taking all you had to keep it together. You knew they were watching. You probably were holding it together for them.

The pride and terror he felt for you was overwhelming to a point his knees almost buckled. But if you could keep it together while being tortured, he could do it too.

Once you'd calmed your breathing, you looked back at Khan, hate in your beautiful E/C eyes. 'Beating me... will get you nowhere... I refuse... to break to you.'

Everyone held their breaths as you held your stare with Khan, and Spencer realised it then.

It hit him in consistent waves that made it hard to catch his breath or even fully realise what was happening. It was how you stared down the crook man, unrelenting, unwavering, unbreakable. It was how, even at you most vulnerable, you made sure to put on a brave face for the team, for him. He hadn't dared think it before - not after Maeve. But the heavy thuds of his heart couldn't be mistaken.

Khan contemplated you for a moment, and then pulled out a pocket knife from his pants. He was calm again which Spencer didn't like one bit. 'Very well, then. You want to act tough?' He didn't wait for a reply as he sliced the top button of your dress off expertly. Then another and another, until almost the entirety of your bra showed. 'Let's see how tough you really are.'

Your eyes blew wide in terror finally realising what his intentions were. Spencer realised a second after, and his blood boiled painfully.

'Garcia,' Spencer managed out, unable to take his eyes off you as Khan sliced off another button and another. By the time he got to the last one, exposing your underwear too, Spencer was on the verge of a panic attack. 'Garcia!'

'I'm honing in on it now!' she called back, but it wasn't enough to quell his fear.

Khan slipped off the dress with a few more slices of the knife, then proceeded to pocket it and press himself against your back. You tried pulling away, but Khan's arms were around you already, feeling you everywhere, violating you.

That's when the tears finally fell. A broken sob escaped your bloodied, trembling lips as Khan's hands dragged all over you, brushing away the hair on your neck to press a sickeningly gentle kiss there.

But instead of completely crumbling, you looked directly into the camera and said, 'I would've said yes.'

For a moment it was just him and you. You words were so soft he almost didn't believe you said them. Spencer saw out of the corner of his eyes Hotch and Rossi didn't understand, but this wasn't about them. You were speaking directly to Spencer, probably with full faith that he was watching and that he was on his way to save you already.

Khan paused his ministrations at the odd statement, giving you a confused look. 'What?'

'I would've said yes,' you repeated, but this time there was a resignation to your words. As if you accepted that those would be the last words anyone would hear you speak. Spencer quickly realised that, as much as you believed he was coming, you didn't believe you would be alive when he finally did.

Khan followed your gaze to the camera, his expression changing as he realised you weren't talking to him.

'I would've said yes,' you said again, not once looking away from the camera.

Khan's hands retracted from you.

'I would've said yes.'

He walked over to the camera.

'I would've said yes.'

'You disappeared behind his huge frame.

'I would've said yes.'

He reached out to switch it off.

'I would've said-'

The feed went dark. The room fell silent, but only for a second. As Spencer stormed out of the room, slamming the door open as he did. He didn't know where he was going, just that he had to get out of that room.

I would've said yes.

The way you'd said it was like you were trying to make sure he heard you - that, as your last words to him, you wanted to let him know of what could've been.

He stormed into the break room where thankfully nobody resided in. He slammed his fist on one of the tables, and kicked at the chair residing at it. Anger coursed through every fibre in him, at Khan, at Holt, at himself.

I would've said yes.

'Reid.'

Spencer turned to find Rossi standing in the doorway, concern wrinkling his weathered features more. 'You okay?' he asked, slowly walking into the room fully then closing the door behind him. 'What was that about?'

'She would've said yes,' was all Spencer could manage out in his wild state of mind, finding it hard to breathe he was so wound up. 'She would've...'

'I heard that,' Rossi said gently. 'I don't know what that means. But you clearly do. So spill, boy genius. What did she mean by that?'

Spencer tugged at his hair in frustration. 'Before she left I asked her out,' he explained, voice rising as his worry did. 'She was never able to give me an answer because she was sworn to secrecy, and I thought that all this time she never liked me liked that because we've been friends for so long, but she would've said yes. You heard her! She would've said yes! And now she-'

'Okay, okay, okay,' Rossi interrupted, gently grabbing Spencer by his arms and guiding him to the chair he'd kicked just before. Spencer didn't have the strength to fight the older man, allowing himself to be guided into a seat.

Rossi crouched in front of Spencer, holding Spencer's shaking hands in his steady ones. 'Just breathe, Reid. Just breathe.'

Spencer followed Rossi' instructions as best as he could, but panic and despair had already crept in. 'Do you know,' he started, lips trembling, voice quaking with emotions he couldn't quite understand, 'that friendships that last longer than seven years... that they are meant to last for life? Y/N and I... we've been friends for a decade.'

'I know,' Rossi answered gently. 'You, JJ, Penelope and Y/N are quite close.'

'Yes, but,' Spencer continued through the sniffles, 'Y/N's always been there. Not just for me, but with me. I never realised how integral to my life she was until she left. I never realised that my love for her was something more until it was too late.'

'You love her?'

Only when Rossi pointed it out did Spencer realise what he'd admitted. But it wasn't a casual slip of the tongue - it was intentional, it was true, it was the only thing he wanted to say because he hated how long it took him to realise it for himself.

He nodded slowly, tears running down his cheeks. 'I didn't know it at first, but it didn't just happen overnight. Truth is... I think I've loved her from the day I met her. Platonically at first, but it's grown as we have, and she is so precious to me Rossi. I can't lose her. I can't.'

Sobs wracked his boney body as he broke down. Rossi pulled him into an awkward but comforting hug, and Spencer couldn't express how grateful he was for such comfort. Rossi had grown into the father figure he'd made Gideon out to be; and while Spencer had learnt to stand on his own two feet, it was reassuring knowing he had someone older and wiser to rely upon.

'It's like Maeve all over again,' Spencer found himself saying, still clinging onto Rossi like his life depended on it. 'Just when I glimpse happiness, it's snatched away. And there is nothing I can do about it.'

'No, no,' Rossi said, pulling back to look Spencer directly in his amber eyes. 'You listen to me, boy wonder. We are going to find her, and we're going to bring her home. And you are going to tell her how you feel and finally take her on a date. Is that understood?' When Spencer didn't answer, Rossi continued.

'Remember how when Maeve died, you holed yourself up in your apartment for weeks, and didn't talk to anyone?' Spencer nodded, but only because he didn't quite understand why Rossi was bringing it up. 'And remember how we all came by to visit, but mostly Y/N? That was because she believed you were strong enough to get through it. She never doubted you, never gave up on you, Spence. Are you really going to return the favour by giving up on her?'

Spencer stared at Rossi for a moment, perplexed that he even would suggest such a thing. He quickly wiped his tears away, though. 'No,' he answered, voice stern and hopeful.

'Good,' Rossi replied, standing back up. 'Now use that big brain of yours. There's got to be something that we missed.'

Before Spencer could answer, the door to the break room swung open to reveal a flustered Derek Morgan. 'We found them,' he said between heavy breaths. 'We found the girls.'

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

The Way Back Home (Spencer Reid x Reader) - Chapter Seven Reader Insert: she/her pronouns Word Count: 4306 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's foot tapped incessantly as he sat in the conference room waiting with Derek, Rossi, and Hotch. JJ and Kate were conducting the interview with the eldest of the group - Ellie, Spencer thought he heard her say when they were first brought in.

It was both a miracle and a heartbreaking sight to see the small group of girls - no older than seventeen, but no younger than thirteen, Spencer deduced - walk through the station with dirty clothes, some even in pyjamas. Their hair was all knotted, and their bare feet were bloody and dirty from running for miles through forestry and along the railway to find help.

To find safety.

Spencer looked out through the glass walls to see other officers talking with the other girls, no doubt trying to contact their families. Again, that double-edged sword of relief and heartache pierced his heart at the sight.

'Being so young, they would be recent abductions so their orphanages and foster homes should be looking for them. There should be filed reports,' Rossi said, as if reading Spencer's mind.

'But what about the homeless ones?' Derek asked, his tone thoughtful as opposed to pointed and angry. 'The ones that have no one looking for them? We can't just put them back on the streets.'

'No,' Hotch answered. 'However, for some of them, the streets are all they know. We can't force them to accept what we believe is help. All we can do is just give them that offer anyway.'

Derek and Rossi hummed in agreement, but Spencer kept his thoughts to himself. There was a raging war inside him that was happy to see so many young girls be saved from Khan, but the duality to that happiness was a heavy fear that you were now his target for all things sadistic and murderous.

'Pretty boy.' Derek's gentle hand clasped his shoulder, forcing Spencer to look up into Dereks' worried face. 'You okay there?'

Spencer nodded, forcing a tight-lipped smile that he knew wasn't convincing in the slightest. He just couldn't get out of his head the last image of you, crying, hanging helpless as Khan put his hands all over your exposed body. And all the while talking to him, reassuring him.

I would've said yes.

Who knew what he was doing to you now.

Derek squeezed his shoulder. 'We're going to find her, pretty boy,' he said softly, kneeling down to meet Spencer's eye level. 'And when we catch the son of bitch, I'll let you have the honour of taking him down.'

From the look in Derek's eyes, Spencer knew he didn't need permission. But knowing that Derek wouldn't stand in Spencer's way in exacting his revenge on Khan for all he has done - not only to you, but all the girls, too - lifted a little of the fear from him.

Their conversation ended when JJ and Kate barged through the door, and Spencer was on his feet before his brain registered he was significantly taller again. 'What did Ellie say?'

'She couldn't tell us much about where exactly the complex was,' JJ started, 'but she remembers smelling intense pine and cut steel when they exited the building. That they never heard cars or trucks so they must be a fair way into the woods south, possibly over state lines.'

'But Penelope and I looked over every map of those woods,' Spencer said, his tone desperate, borderline upset. 'The properties there either check out in names or don't match what we are looking for.'

'What else did Ellie say?' Hotch interrupted.

'She'd been there the longest of the group,' Kate answered. 'First it was just her, then another girl, then soon they were being brought in twos and threes.'

'He was escalating,' Rossi said. 'Probably because he now has goons of his own to help speed up the process.'

'We talked Ellie through her abduction,' Kate continued, 'and she said she was just sleeping behind a garbage container when he approached her, saying he worked for a homeless centre and had some blankets and warm food in his car just down the street.'

'That's how he got her,' JJ added, 'and she did confirm it was Walter personally who abducted her. He abducted most of the others too. He knocked her out the moment no one else could see or hear them with chloroform, but she woke up sometime before they arrived at the facility and she heard him talking to someone over the phone. From what she could gather, he said the name "Arthur" and sounded pretty upset when he did.'

'Arthur...' For the first time in hours, Spencer's brain fired at the speed of light, turning and calculating and digging back through mental files of all he knew about Walter Khan. He suddenly pulled out his phone and pressed the number one speed dial option.

'How can I help? I want to help,' Penelope answered, her voice tight and anxious and scared.

'Garcia, by any chance, was Walter adopted or in a foster home as a kid, perhaps under a different name?'

Penelope's fingertips flew across her keyboard, then stopped when's he found something. 'There was a Walter in a small orphanage in Pennsylvania about thirty-odd years ago. He was adopted by a Wendy and Arthur Kè Hán - Wendy was a prostitute and Arthur was a carpenter who owned his own business but it went under a few years after they adopted Walter.'

A few more clicks of her fingertips had her murmuring, 'Oh.'

'What did you find?' Rossi asked.

'Turns out Wendy wasn't too happy with Arthur's lack of business, and mentally and physically abused him for not supporting the household. After he took his own life, her anger was directed at Walter. There were never any witnesses so reports were never filed. Once he was eighteen, Walter left home and went completely off grid. He hasn't existed in almost twenty years.'

'Except Kè Hán is the native Chinese translation for Khan,' Spencer explained. 'Garcia, can you look up if any of the properties we checked were under the name Arthur Kè Hán, or some sort of alias with the same letters?'

'Of course,' she said, tapping away at her keyboard before stopping with a gasp. 'Yes! Yeah there is. A lot of one-hundred acres right in the middle of the woods south of New York.'

Spencer hated himself for not seeing earlier, smacking his forehead with frustration. 'He obviously had a strong relationship to his adoptive father, and so half of these killings have got to be some sort of revenge for Arthur. He put the property under his name not only out of respect, but because who would look for a dead man?'

'And if he views the girls he grooms and then kills as his mother...' JJ started.

'Then Y/N might not have a lot of time,' Kate finished grimly.

'Garcia,' Hotch said, but Penelope didn't need anything else.

'Address already sent to your tablets and phones,' she replied, voice cracking with what sounded like tears. 'Now bring our girl home, please!'

'We will, Garcia,' Spencer said and ended the call. He ran after his team as they headed out of the room to rally other officers and a S.W.A.T. team to head out to the property. He was the calmest he'd been in the past few hours. Because he knew where you were. He was coming to get you.

And he was going to make Walter Khan bleed when he saw him.

~~~

You woke up to darkness and cold.

You don't remember when you fell asleep, you were just glad that you did, and that it had been a dreamless sleep. But then again, how could you have had anything in your head when you'd just been through a living nightmare?

The more you woke up, the quicker you realised something wasn't right. You hurt all over, like you'd been pressed by a thousand fingers over and over again. You tried sitting up, but your legs shook with exhaustion, and your groin-

You froze in terror as you looked down your body. Your underwear was still in place, but the memories came flooding back in too quickly. Tears streamed down your face as you recalled how you hadn't always been covered, how Khan had stripped you of your clothes, and with them your dignity. Your stomach churned as the ghost of his touch brushed over your lower body, and you could only throw up stomach acid when you smelt the remaining evidence of what he did to you.

It was smothering: the memories, the touch, the scent - his scent. Your heartbroken cries came out as sad squawks from your already damaged throat. You remembered how he'd laughed at your screams, all the while defiling you for his own pleasure.

Once your stomach was empty even of acid, you curled in on yourself, hoping to bring your exposed limbs some flicker of warmth, of hope. But isn't that why you'd said that to Spencer? You knew he had to have been watching - there was no way Penelope wouldn't have found the server, not found it odd, and not have opened it. While it was Khan's way of taunting your team and he was smart to an extent, he was no match for the mighty Penelope Garcia.

Spencer had been watching, you knew it in your guts. And the moment Khan had opened up your dress and started touching you, you had accepted you would never see him or any of the team again. You would never see his goofy smile, or hear him rant about Star Trek or the many wonders of Halloween. You would never have movie nights, or go out to dinner with him and the team and brush legs in the booth or sitting by the bar. You'd never steal another longing glance at him, or kiss him; and you'd never get to see what you two could've been if you hadn't been such a coward.

You'd never get to tell him you loved him.

It wasn't something people usually told someone on the first date, but you didn't need to date Spencer to know he was it for you. That he had ruined you for anyone else, no matter how handsome or smart or caring or brave they were. No one could beat him. You'd known that since the first time you met him, and had tried to let him know that everyday since.

You shivered, curling into yourself in a feeble attempt to rid yourself of the cold that seemed to sink permanently into your bones. It all seems silly now, you thought, a moment of clarity breaking through your heartache, to have wasted so much time not loving him openly, consequences be damned.

I would've said yes.

It was your last attempt at telling him how you really feel. Whatever happened to you now, you just hoped he understood that one thing.

The door to the Warehouse creaked open, but you didn't move. There was no point. There was no escape. And with the stinging pain of vulnerability and violation coursing through you, you didn't have it in you to defend yourself anymore.

Walter Khan had already taken all he could from you except your life.

Someone pressed a button, and the chain cranked upwards, pulling you to your feet again. Exhaustion weighed on you, and so you just hung by your wrists, numb to the strain in your shoulders, numb to caring about showing Walter Khan he did not hurt you.

The man himself pulled on your hair so you looked up at him, cold, unfeeling eyes meeting your tired ones. 'Look at you,' he said, voice too soft and intimate for your liking, 'all numb and pliant. What? No retorts? No teeth today, sweetheart?'

Anger boiled deep within you. He had no idea how much you wanted to show him some teeth and rip his lips right off his ugly, dumb face. But your body wouldn't let you. It had been put through the ringer a few too many times, and you were well and truly being counted out.

He leaned in close, brushing his nose over your cheeks, your forehead, your lips. His sharp inhale of you had your stomach churning again, had your hands twitching with the impulse to claw his eyes out.

'I'm offended,' he whispered, his hot breath vile as it fanned across your cheeks, invaded your nostrils. He pulled back enough so you could see his grin that could only belong to the devil. 'That's okay. I know how you can make it up to me.'

He let go of you and walked to the table. The foggy cloud of confusion cleared from your brain when he picked up a knife, its pointed edge curved sharp. He held the knife in such a way that it looked moulded to his hand, fitting too perfectly between his fingers as he walked back over. The image of Roxy's mutilated body flashed in your mind, along with the other girls' you'd found, and that seemed to be the trigger to kick your need to survive back into gear.

You struggled to stand flat on your feet, tugging with all the strength you had at your restraints as Khan stepped closer to you. 'Get... away,' you said, but your words came out weak.

A sadistic laugh slipped past his lips, the cold sound rattling your spine, your spirit. 'No one is going anywhere, sweetheart,' he said, and he pulled you close again, keeping you still with a painful grip on your hair. The tip of the knife ran cool along your exposed stomach, grazing softly from just above your belly button to underneath it. He grinned as he followed his actions, his smile showing that he had done this before, but his breathless sighs demonstrated how what he was about to do would feel just like the first time. 'Not until we're done, that is.'

A whimper bubbled in your throat, knowing what was coming next. You just hoped it would be quick and as painless as possible. You sucked in a breath, bit into your lower lip - you would not give him the satisfaction of hearing you scream.

Khan pulled back the knife, holding it for a second before he-

Both doors to the Warehouse slammed open as people in FBI vests came running through the doors, guns at the ready.

'FBI, Khan!'

Not just people - your people.

Derek was the one who'd shouted, coming in through the front door and followed by Rossi and Spencer. The exit door to your right was being blockaded by Hotch, JJ, and Kate. If you weren't in such a state of shock, you would've cried with joy. They'd found you.

'Put the knife down, Khan,' Hotch commanded, tone calm and collected as he and the team circled around him, other FBI agents circling them. With the doors open now, you could hear the struggle and gunfire as no doubt other FBI agents took on the rest of the goons in the facility. 'We have you and your entire operation surrounded. There's no escape.'

Khan looked around at the team, eyes blowing wide with that same wildness of a caged animal. But instead of doing what Hotch said, he grabbed you, pulled you to his chest, and pressed the knife to your throat.

The team stepped closer.

'You don't want to do that, Khan,' Hotch warned.

'Why not?' Khan spat back, the knife pressing hard against your neck. You felt it start to pierce the delicate skin there, causing you to hiss in pain. 'Because you'll shoot? I'm not afraid of some bullets.'

'What about a hundred?' Derek asked, eyes trained on Khan like a hawk, hands steady on his gun. 'Come on, man. You know the only way you're getting out of this alive is if you drop the knife.'

A trickle of blood dribbled down the column of your neck, between your breast, and down your torso. Your heart threatened to beat right out of your chest it was pounding so hard, so fast.

'No,' Khan said defiantly. 'I have worked too hard for too long just for it all to be taken away from me. All because of this slut!'

'You brought this upon yourself, Khan,' Spencer interjected, his tone steelier than usual. You looked into his amber eyes and saw a dangerous fire lurking there.

Dr Spencer Reid was mad.

'That very well may be,' Khan responded, and the pressure of the knife on your neck eased only slightly. 'But you brought this upon yourself, too.'

He raised the knife, and you closed your eyes because this was it, this is where you died.

Then a shot fired, the sound echoing for an eternity in your mind. Then- Nothing.

No piercing pain, no screams, just nothing.

And so you opened your eyes just as Walter Khan collapsed to the floor, a bullet embedded in the middle of his forehead. You looked towards where the bullet came from, and saw everyone also looking at Spencer, whose steely gaze showed no remorse as he holstered his gun.

The realisation that Khan wasn't getting back up - that it was over - had your knees buckling out from under you as uncontrollable sobs wracked your body. Before your wrists could take any more of a beating from holding you up, someone caught you, their arms weaving underneath yours and holding you against their chest. Their scent hit you immediately, and a half second later you recognised the arms that held you.

'Spence,' you sobbed out, tears finally falling from your eyes like twin dams suddenly broken. 'Oh, Spence.'

His long fingers cradled your head softly, pressed gently into your back as you heard someone else undo your chains. 'I'm here, Y/N,' he cooed, breathless almost in disbelief. 'I'm here. You're safe now.'

Once your wrists were free, your arms flopped down in jarring manner that brought on another wave of tears, this time in pain. The pain was just a cruel reminder of what you weren't anymore - pure, whole.

'He touched me,' you managed to get out, your sobs making it hard to breathe let alone speak. 'He touched me!'

'Oh my God,' JJ said, and you felt Spencer wrap his arms around you tighter, his lips pressing softly against your forehead and in your matted hair.

You simply dissolved into a blubbering mess of tears, snot, and pain in Spencer's arms. You stayed like that for what felt like an eternity; and when your tears had all dried up, you passed out, falling into a dreamless sleep as Spencer held you all the while.

~~~

'Medic!' Spencer cried as you fell limp in his arms suddenly. Your paled face made the bruises and remaining blood on it stand out grossly. He pressed two fingers to your pulse. It was weak, but it was there. No doubt your body was finally giving out after enduring hours of torture and pain. You needed help right away.

'Is she okay? What happened?' JJ asked, the rest of the team joining him as the paramedics ran in through the exit door with a gurney.

'She just passed out. I think her body's shutting down on her,' Spencer said.

One of the medics also checked your pulse. 'We need to get her to a hospital now,' she said, then looked up at Spencer. 'Get her on the gurney.'

As Spencer placed you gently on the gurney, he kept hold of your hand, running alongside you as you were wheeled to the ambulance. The medics placed an oxygen mask on you and pushed you up into the back of the ambulance.

'Go with her, Reid,' Hotch directed. 'We can take care of things here.'

'Just keep us updated,' Rossi added.

'You got it,' Spencer said before leaping into the ambulance as they closed the doors.

~~~

Spencer sat up in the small seat he'd made himself at home in almost...

He rubbed at his blurry eyes. The red numbers of the electronic clock on your hospital nightstand flashed 01:34am.

Roughly seven hours. That's how long since you'd been admitted. Six had been spent in the room he currently resided in. Only two of those had he actually slept, not wanting to sleep in case you woke up and needed to see a familiar face.

His bulletproof vest he'd been using as a pillow slipped to the floor as he straightened up, his bones cracking as he untangled himself from the awkward sleeping position he'd put himself in. Exhaustion weighed on his eyes, but he rubbed at them, hoping it would go away. But it didn't, and with those tired eyes, he looked over at your sleeping form in the white, hospital bed.

You'd been cleaned by the nurses and doctors that helped stitch you up and pop your dislocated joints back into place. An IV drip was attached to your arm, as well as a chord that attached to a heart monitor, and the steady beep that sounded from it was the only thing keeping Spencer from losing it completely.

She's okay. She's alive. You found her.

It didn't matter how many times he told himself that - or anyone else on the team - because you were still hurt, still lying unconscious in the hospital bed.

All because you were a good person.

He leaned forward in the chair and took one of your hands in his, and it frightened him how cold your fingers felt in his. He observed your face; you looked so peaceful despite the bandages covering the cut on your neck where Khan's knife had almost taken you away from Spencer for good.

The mere thought had tears burning his eyes.

A soft knock brought Spencer back to the present, to see Derek holding two coffee cups by the doorway.

'Hey,' Derek greeted gently, walking in and offering one of the coffees to Spencer. 'Thought you might need it. Extra extra sugar, even.'

Spencer smiled appreciatively, but he felt it didn't reach its usual brightness. 'Thanks, but I'm fine right now.'

'Okay,' Derek said, placing the sweetened coffee on the bed tray that was currently situated to the side as you slept. He then pulled up another seat on the opposite side of the bed to Spencer, taking a sip of his own coffee as he sat down. He gave you soft look as he watched you. 'She's one tough cookie, huh.'

A lump formed in Spencer's throat with both pride and terror as he nodded his agreement. 'Can't believe we actually got her back.'

'Well, you better believe it, pretty boy, because we did, and she's right there.' Spencer didn't reply, prompting Derek to put his coffee down and face Spencer properly. 'You know it's not your fault, right? Y/N knew what she was getting into when she agreed to the mission. She knew the potential outcomes when she decided to stay behind and help those girls. I bet you she also knew we would come looking for her - that's what kept her going, Spencer. The thought of us finding her, of you finding her.'

Tears welled in Spencer's eyes as he finally looked away from you and looked at Derek, his hands never leaving yours. 'I just... why did it have to be her? I know its selfish of me to say, but why did they have to drag her back into the very unit she left behind? She could've died!'

'But she didn't, Spencer,' Derek countered, but he was gentle with his words. 'She is here with us. And I don't know about you, but I would take this as a sign.'

'What kind of sign?' Spencer asked.

'To make sure she doesn't slip through your fingers again.'

As if the universe had been listening, a soft groan came from you that had both men looking at you in disbelief. 'Y/N?' Spencer asked softly, holding your hand with one hand while the other stroked back loose, H/C hairs from your face. 'Y/N, can you hear me?'

'Spence?' you said, your voice groggy with exhaustion and sleep. Your eyes slowly fluttered open, and you blinked a few times until your eyes lit up with recognition as you spotted Spencer. Tears welled up, making the E/C of your pupils twinkle with joy. 'Spence...'

'I'll go get the others. And a doctor,' Derek murmured, then quickly zoomed out of the room, leaving Spencer and you alone once more.

Spencer squeezed your hand, a bright, relieved smile splitting his lips apart for the first time in days. 'Hey there,' he said quietly, smoothing your hair down not only to comfort you, but himself - and remind himself that you were real.

His heart soared when he felt you squeeze his hand back. It was weak, but it was something, and the smile that split your face was something he would've gone to hell and back to see on your face everyday. 'You found me,' you whispered, tears falling down your cheeks, but these time they were of joy and relief.

His thumb subconsciously grazed over your knuckles a few times, then he brought them to his lips where he placed a hard, grateful kiss there. 'Of course I did,' he murmured back. 'I will always find you.'

Before you could respond, the relieved sighs of the team entered the room, forcing Spencer to step back as they took turns hugging you. A doctor came in to talk to you as well, but Spencer didn't mind. Not as your eyes sparkled and your voice rung through the room.

He'd brought you home. There was nothing more he could've wanted.

The Way Back Home (Spencer Reid x Reader) - Epilogue

The Way Back Home (Spencer Reid x Reader) - Epilogue Reader Insert: she/her pronouns Word Count: 3707 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

~~~

The water ran hot against your skin as you lathered your body in soap. The bubbles formed quickly from how fast you scrubbed yourself. You didn't like taking showers. Actually, that wasn't entirely true. Showers were both simultaneously the best and worst part of your day since returning home from the hospital.

Your fingers barely brushed across your skin, swiping the soap over and back a few times before you washed it off. You didn't like the feel of fingers lingering too long on your skin. Objectively, you were much better than you were before. The first time the nurses tried showering you, you almost screamed the hospital down as flashbacks and phantom touches invaded your brain.

You turned the shower off and stepped out of it. You didn't look in your mirror, immediately reaching for a towel to cover yourself up with. The towel helped you feel less... vulnerable, even if you were all alone.

Only then did you look in the mirror. It had already been one month since you'd left the hospital after being cooped up in there for two weeks. Today actually marked the day you were told you had to leave for the mission - exactly one a year ago. You were now back in your old apartment in DC - Hotch had pulled in a favour from the FBI to keep paying your rent until you came back, and you had almost choked him to death with the strong hug you'd given him when the team had brought you home.

Home.

The word brought a smile to your face. Well, it wasn't so much the word as it was the images that came to mind with it. Your apartment, the BAU, the team, the Italian restaurant downstairs you always used to visit before you left. A certain genius with unruly hair and the brightest smile in the world...

After this weekend, I'll be seeing that smile everyday, you thought as you quickly dried off and rushed to pull some casual shorts and an over-sized gym t-shirt on. Just the thought of being exposed for too long freaked you out.

You walked out to your lounge room where you were greeted with the afternoon light that would no doubt be setting soon. For a moment, you just allowed yourself to take in your street, standing so close to your floor-to-ceiling window that if you leaned forward you would bump your nose against it. The golden light of the setting sun reflected in fragments off the windows of other apartments; people were already home from work and walking the streets with their loved ones or dogs. The hardware store across the road was closing up, but the lights for the Italian restaurant downstairs flickered on, telling the world they were ready for business.

It had been killing you to stay away from work - Hotch and Penelope had made it very clear they didn't want you anywhere near the office until you had taken your month off to recover and readjust back into life. But, in hindsight, you were glad they had. You'd found a new appreciation of where you lived, reacquainted yourself with what you liked to do and liked to eat and liked to go watch at the movies.

This past month had almost wiped Serena Vanderguff from existence... and you couldn't tell if you liked that yet or not.

A sudden knock at your door knitted confusion in your eyebrows as you looked curiously at the entrance to your home. You spared a glance at the clock hanging on the wall. What's someone doing here at quarter-to six on a Friday afternoon?

You softly padded over to the door and peeped through the spyglass that allowed you to see whoever it was that knocked at the door. You couldn't stop your wide smile of delight at who greeted you outside. Without wasting another second, you unlocked the multiple locks on your door and swung the blasted thing open to welcome the one and only Dr. Spencer Reid.

'Spence!' you exclaimed. 'What a lovely surprise!'

'Hey!' he replied just as enthusiastically. 'I was on my way home from the office and thought I'd stop by.'

It was only then you noticed he was holding a big and beautiful bouquet of your favourite flowers. 'Goodness, Spence, you didn't have to bring me flowers again.' He'd been bringing you flowers once a week every week since you'd been found. Even when you were still in the hospital, those two weeks he had brought you the same flowers, the ones you loved.

He just smiled that adorable smile of his before responding. 'I read somewhere that florals can produce a high level of endorphins and serotonin,' he explained as he offered them out to you, lips still upturned in a crooked, adorable smile. 'And ever since that sewerage pipe break in your building, there's always been a lingering smell that I thought you could use help covering up.'

'That was over a year ago, though!' you argued weakly, but took the flowers from his hands anyways. Your fingers briefly brushed, and it sent a jolt of electricity through you. It was gone as quickly as it came.

You gestured for him to come inside and he did. From your front door the kitchen was easily accessible, which is where he walked to and leant against the counter. You quickly closed the door and followed after him, heading straight for your flowers from last week sitting wilted in their vase.

'And in all that time, they still haven't managed to fix it,' Spencer added jokingly, but the upward pull of his lips wasn't as high now.

You heard what he really meant as you pulled out the dead flowers, filled the vase with fresh water, and placed the new flowers in. All that time...

A lot has happened in that time. Upon your release from the hospital, Khan had been put in jail alongside many of his goons. Madame Lacroix and the other New York club managers were found guilty of human trafficking and dealing in illicit drugs and contraband, and were all thrown in jail and their clubs were shut down. Turned out it was a national operation that Khan was running, and other units of the FBI in other states were currently hunting them all down.

What made you happy though was that the girls you saved were going home, and for those that didn't have homes, they were being found homes of their own. The older girls that worked at the clubs were a different story. Some packed up and left town, wanting to travel or find new work elsewhere. The rest bought up the clubs and were rebranding themselves, taking ownership of their lives. Now they were the ones in charge.

You looked at Spencer, leaning casually against your counter, the light of sunset haloing him as it reflected off the opposite building into your apartment.

And a lot still hasn't happened.

'So, what's the occasion?' you asked, turning to face Spencer, finally finished with the flowers. You crossed your arms and couldn't help the soft smile that pulled at you lips. 'To what do I owe the pleasure of the great Dr. Spencer Reid in my apartment this evening?'

He chuckled at my posh delivery, and the loose curls dangling across his forehead bounced with the sound. It had grown in the time since he'd found you, but he'd cut it once or twice since then to keep it at that perfect length of long-short - long enough to style gorgeously but short enough to be considered clean-cut and suitable for work.

The urge to rake your fingers through the curls itched at your fingertips, and you were so glad your hands were crossed under your armpits.

'I was meant to come in earlier this week like I usually do,' he started, pushing off the counter to wander past the kitchen and into the lounge, ultimately ending up looking out the window as you had been just before. 'But the amount of paperwork we've had piling up this month has been ridiculous, even I was starting to hate looking at endless towers of paper to read then sign.'

'Oh no,' I drawled out, following him to the window with a teasing smirk on my lips. 'Has the great Dr. Reid finally met his match?'

'Not quite,' he replied, still staring out the window.

It was hard not to look at him as the sunlight lit up his amber eyes,. He was simply... ethereal.

'I finished it all, finally,' he continued, 'and thought I'd pay you a visit. Seeing as it's Friday and there are no new cases, I'm not expected in the office tomorrow.'

I blew out a low whistle. 'Wow. A whole weekend to yourself? That's unheard of.'

'Yeah.' His voice was breathy, and you noticed the emotion in his gaze shift as he turned away from watching the world to look at you. A sad smile appeared on his lips, eyes glazing over with a mixture of relief and exhaustion. 'I've missed you.'

'You saw me last week,' you countered, like a mother placating a child. 'And we text and call like everyday.'

'I know. It's just like old times again, but...'

He paused, as if gathering his next words carefully. Spencer always thought about his words so that people understood him the best possible way. It was one of the things you positively adored about him.

'The office is, I don't know, empty somehow,' he said finally, slowly. 'I know that's a silly thing to say when Morgan and JJ and Penelope and everyone else is there, but... Your desk still sits there, waiting for you to come back. And I kept it clean for over a year, almost willing you to come back any of those days.'

You smiled softly at him. 'Well, you don't have to wait much longer. Monday morning, bright and early, I'll be at my desk ready to go.'

Your eyes met and you could tell he was holding back tears. Your words came out quiet but true. 'I've missed you too, Spence.'

You had always been attuned to each other, the team sometimes joking that you both shared the same brain cells (even though, as Spencer claimed continuously, that was not anatomically possible). The sentiment remained true as you and him reached out to one another and wrapped your arms tight around each other.

Reflexively, your breath caught in your throat, and you were thrown back to that night where Khan defiled you in the most brutal of ways.

Spencer noticed you tense, and he pulled back slightly. 'Is this okay?" he asked gently. He had been there when you had your meltdown at the nurses; he knew what Khan had done to you, and how you would never be same because of it.

His arms were warm and gentle around you, and that horrible memory disappeared. You were with Spencer. You were safe. You were home.

You took a moment to catch your breath, to stabilise yourself in the present once more, and pulled him in tighter. 'Yes. This is okay.'

After your permission, his arms tightened around you, and there you stayed for a while longer. Just hugging while the rest of the world passed you by. With your ear pressed to his chest, you knew both your hearts were beating in time with one another.

Synced. Linked. Two halves of a whole.

Your heart practically screamed for him when he and the team had found you, saved you. It had been screaming for over a month since that day, and you knew it would never stop screaming for him.

I would've said yes.

Neither of you had said anything about what you'd said, what you had confirmed. Everything had just happened so quickly, and then Spencer had been busy with work since the team was a man down until you returned.

You'd stolen what you could in your brief touches, the laughs you shared, the scent of the flowers that hung in your apartment for a week before he brought a new set. And despite all he had done to get you back, despite that night at the Chateau - What would you have said? - you'd just been too much of a coward to see if he still felt that way for you.

Because nothing had changed for you. It never would.

You had two days before your life would go back to semi-normal, and by then it would be too difficult, too complicated. Oh screw it, it's complicated already.

You pulled apart from Spencer, disentangling yourself from him completely. As much as you wished to hold him forever, you needed to have your space if you had any hope of finally getting the words out.

'Hey, you okay?' he asked, noticing your tensed form, your fidgety fingers.

'Yeah, I just...'

You took in a deep breath, closed your eyes, and let out that breath. Now or never, Y/N.

Opening your eyes, you spoke. 'I just don't think I've ever thanked you for checking in on me. I know how busy you can be.'

'There's no need,' he replied, a soft smile adorning his face. 'I'll always come to your aid. You're... so dear to me, Y/N.'

Hope sparked in your chest, the only driving force for you to keep speaking. 'I mean it. You literally saved my life in the Warehouse. I had resigned myself to my fate: that I would never see you or Pen or Derek or JJ or the rest of the team again. I knew you'd find me, but I had made peace with dying before that point.'

You sucked in a steadying breath as the dark memories started to claw their way back into your brain, into your heart. Phantom fingers ghosted over your skin, causing you cross your arms again in attempt to protect yourself from them.

'And then Khan... used me,' you managed to get out, words strained and voice croaky as tears formed at the rim of your eyelids.

Spencer's expression turned into one of concern. 'You don't have to talk about this if you don't want to, Y/N,' he offered, amber eyes scanning me all over for signs that I would breakdown.

I shook my head. 'No. I need to tell you this. I need you to understand.'

'Understand what?'

'That this past month I have had to learn to re-love myself again, to re-love my body and what it did for me that day.' I forced my arms down beside me, opening myself up completely to Spencer. 'It hasn't been easy, and sometimes... I've hated myself, instead. And the scars run deeper than my skin shows and may last for a long time - possibly for the rest of my life.'

You tell yourself to be brave for a moment, and you look directly into Spencer's eyes, which shine with unshed tears and something else you can't quite figure out.

'But you... Dr. Spencer Reid,' you started, tears finally falling from your eyes as the brightest smile spread across your face. 'You have made me believe in hope again. Hope, that I might one day be rid of this hatred for myself and my body. Hope, that I can carry this trauma and still live a full life. Hope, that I can be more than what Walter Khan made of me that night.'

A hysterical chuckle escapes you, and you wipe some of the tears away. There was a silent voice in the back of your head saying how ridiculous you are for crying over this. But that voice was all of hatred, of jealously. It has been the voice you've let dictate your feelings for over a month.

But, today, you were done listening to it.

'Hope, that... you love you me as much as I love you, Spencer.'

There, you said it. Relief bombarded the space where the weight of those words had held a huge place in your heart for the longest time. Since before the mission, before Maeve, before you even knew you were in love with him. It was out there, now. There was no going back.

Spencer remained silent, staring at you like you had three heads. Slight panic coursed coldly through you, and suddenly your mouth was motoring, words just flying out one after the other.

'That's not me asking you to say it back or anything. I just... oh my goodness, screw it. I have been in love with you forever, Spencer, and I just wanted to let you know because you have taken up such a huge part of my heart that will never belong to anyone else, and-'

'You love me?'

You paused at Spencer's question, locking eyes with the boy genius and seeing a mixture of disbelief and that same emotion again, the one you couldn't put a finger on. Perhaps it was terror, and that one thought had your heart sinking like the Titanic.

'Yeah,' you replied quietly.

'...How long?'

'Sorry?'

'How. Long.'

You rubbed at your eyes, suddenly avoiding his gaze by looking simply anywhere else. It was all going so horribly wrong. But he'd asked a question. And you would do anything, answer anything, if he asked.

'I think I've loved you since the day I met you,' you said, and it was only when you'd spoken the words did you realise how cliche you sounded. A humourless laugh escaped you at your misery.

'I didn't realise until a few years later, though,' you continued. 'But by the time I did, I found out you had a secret girlfriend in Maeve and you were just so happy I couldn't possibly ruin what we had because of that. And I never tried after because you were grieving and I didn't want you to think I was rushing you or pushing you too soon. But then you asked me, and I was so happy, but then it all just went downhill from there. Goodness, this is all coming out horribly wrong-'

'Stop talking.'

'Wha- Mph!'

Your question was swallowed by Spencer Reid's lips as he cradled your face in his hands and pulled you to him, pressing his lips passionately against yours. He tasted like Halloween sweets and fresh air, and that just made you close your eyes and melt into him more. The kiss wasn't frantic. Rather, it was sweet and loving and you couldn't get enough of him. Even as you weaved your fingers into his luscious hair and tugged on them gently, eliciting a deep growl of approval and want from deep within him.

As he kissed you, your doubts faded away, leaving only your love for another that could not be any clearer now. As he kissed you, another mental, emotional scare healed and vanished.

You both finally pulled apart, heaving for breath as your noses brushed one another's. When you looked up at his eyes, you finally recognised the mystery emotion that had been burning ever since he'd stepped into your apartment.

A relieved, genuinely happy smile split his lips wide as tears of joy ran down his cheeks. His thumb swept over your own tears, causing you both to chuckle at your silliness.

'If you hadn't guessed already,' he said, his words only for you, 'I love you, too. I know that's an odd thing to say before you even date someone, but I do, and I have for a while even if I didn't know it before. I'm just so so sorry for making you wait, for being an ignorant, stupid coward.'

You brought your hands up to wipe away his own tears, heart immensely full for the man in front of you. 'Dr. Spencer Reid stupid? Now you're just making stuff up. I thought you didn't do that.'

That pulled a laugh from him, and he pulled you into another hug, this time more bone-crushing. As if he couldn't express how much he loved you enough. You hugged him back just as desperately though. It seemed as though you shared the same sentiment.

In another moment of bravery, you spoke over his shoulder where your chin rested. 'You know... my answer still stands. That is, if your offer still stands.'

Dr. Spencer Reid. Are you asking me out on a date right now?

Spencer pulled away from the hug, with the biggest smile on his face. 'It will always stand for you, Y/N. Always.'

What do you say, SSA Y/N L/N? Would you like to have dinner with me tonight?

It was you this time that pressed a bruising kiss on Spencer's lips, the kiss being answer enough for what you had been holding onto for exactly a year.

Sweet, sweet music wafted up from downstairs, the faint sound of a beautiful violin sparking an idea in your head. You forced yourself to pull away from Spencer and said, 'I know a great Italian restaurant that is super close, by the way.'

'Sounds perfect,' Spencer replied, kissing you quickly again before crouch and picking you up by your underarms and twirling your around in the air. Laughter echoed through your apartment as you clung to him but also rejoiced at the feeling of flying. For the first time in over a year, you were finally feeling like yourself again.

Spencer eventually put you down, saying, 'As much as I find you the most beautiful girl in the world, I don't think t-shirt and shorts are going to cut it downstairs.'

'Oh. Right.' You quickly dashed into your room and put on something more suitable.

And finally, one year after being asked out, Spencer held your hand in his and took you downstairs to have your date, where you both had the best night you'd had in a long time. It might've taken a few twists and turns to get to where you both belonged: with each other. But as you ate your pasta, drank your wine, danced with and laughed with and kissed Spencer, you realised it had only made your bond stronger, that it had been worth it.

You'd finally found your way back home.

REAL.

is somebody gonna match my freak?!? (spending hours watching spencer reid post prison edits)

glasses spencer glasses spencer glasses

no lube, no protection, all night, all day, from the kitchen floor to the toilet seat, from the dining table to the bedroom, from the bathroom sink to the shower, from the front porch to the balcony, vertically, horizontally, quadratic, exponential, logarithmic, while I gasp for air, scream and see the light, missionary, cowgirl, reverse cowgirl, doggy, backwards, sideways, upside down, on the floor, in the bed, on the couch, on a chair, being carried against the wall, outside, in a train, on a plane, in the car, on a motorcycle, in the bed of a truck, on a trampoline, in a bounce house, in the pool, bent over, in the basement, against the window, have the most toe curling, back arching, leg shaking, dick throbbing, fist clenching, ear ringing, mouth drooling, ass clenching, nose sniffling, eye watering, eye rolling, hip thrusting, earthquaking, sheet gripping, knuckles cracking, jaw dropping, hair pulling, teeth jitterbug, mind blogging, soul snatching, overstimulating, vile, sloppy,moan inducing, heart wrenching, spine tingling, back breaking, atrocious,gushy, creamy, beastly, lip biting, gravity defying, nail biting, sweaty, feet kicking, mind blowing, body shivering, orgasmic, bone breaking, world ending, black hole creating, universe destroying, devious, scrumptious, amazing, delightful, delectable, unbelievable, body numbing, bark worthy, can't walk, head nodding, soul evaporating, volcano erupting, sweat rolling, voice cracking, trembling, sheets soaked, hair drenched, flabbergasting, lip locking, skin peeling, eyelash removing, eye widening, pussy popping, nail scratching, back cuts, spectacular, brain cell desolving, hair ripping, show stopping, magnificent, unique, extraordinary, slendid, phenomenal, mouth foaming, heavenly, awakening, devils tango ever bro could cause a nuclear bomb inside me and i’d still ride.

copy by: this post by this blog

╰┈➤Welcome, bienvenue, welcome. ❣

Hii, welcome to my blog! You can call me Maniiacc, or cherry whatever you prefer.

I'm an 18 year old writer, leo, infp, bi, and a huge metalhead.

So, I'm writing this because I wanted to start writing fics, or short stories (maybe long if I find the motivation and a good plot.) about the characters in criminal minds. I was a bit hesitant to do this because english isn't my first language, but I finally found the courage to publish this! ฅ^•ﻌ•^ฅ

The characters that I will write about are going to be:

Aaron Hotchner

Derek Morgan

Spencer Reid

Jason Gideon

Elle Greenaway

Jenniffer Jareau

Penelope Garcia

Emily Prentiss

So, this blog will be for AFAB readers, either female or gender neutral while written.

I'm open to write angst , fluff, smut and a mix of all of the above.

If anyone wants to send any request I will be more than happy to write a fic about them, and I will do my best with all of your requests (if anyone sends any ૮₍ ´• ˕ •` ₎ა)

And I think that's all, thank you for reading this if you made it this far, hope you have a wonderful day beautiful people! (づ˶•༝•˶)づ♡

Criminal minds masterlist.

Fluff→ (ֶָ֢⊹𐙚)

Angst→ (˖𓍢ִ໋🦢)

Smut→ (☢)

Aaron Hotchner

Safety [xfem!reader]˖𓍢ִ໋🦢⊹𐙚

Derek Morgan

[no content here yet]

Spencer Reid

[no content here yet]

Jason Gideon

[no content here yet]

Elle Greenaway

[no content here yet]

Jenniffer Jareau

Echoes of silence[fem!reader]˖𓍢ִ໋🦢⊹𐙚

Penélope Garcia

[no content here yet]

Emily Prentiss

[no content here yet]

Enchanted - S.R.

Warnings : Mentions of a sad Reid (I hate him being sad), fluff, not really proof read

A/N : I know it’s not my best work buttttt I really liked this idea and I just recently watched this episode and felt so sad for Reid and I knew I wanted to write about it. The gif of him breaks my heart 😢 Also, thank you to @mariasont for giving me some tips to getting out of a writing slump, this would definitely not have happened without you 😭🤍

Masterlist

Requests are OPEN

Dr. Spencer Reid watched from the sidelines as his fellow agents and coworkers answered questions regarding their discussions. The BAU team was invited as guest speakers to a convention, where both he and Emily gave personal accounts and lectures regarding their work. Whilst Emily’s speech seemed to be a hit, Reid had not gotten a single question, and, frankly, everyone seemed confused and put off by the words he spoke.

He felt embarrassed and insecure, as though he was that twelve year old boy in high school all over again. After what felt like hours, he couldn’t take any more of standing off to the side alone and turned to leave.

“Dr. Reid!” He stopped at the sound of his name being called. He turned towards the culprit of the spoken words, eyebrows raised in surprise, and his heart stopped once his eyes landed on her.

She stood before him in a sweater and slacks, hair in a messy ponytail. She felt unsure of whether she should approach him, thinking she looked too laid-back for the sophisticated doctor. Still, she wore a smile on her face and could barely contain her excitement.

“Hi, my name is Y/N, and I just wanted to say I really enjoyed your speech. I think it’s so interesting how you can learn so much about an unsub from a geographical profile.”

He subtly pinched himself, attempting to discern if this was real. The most beautiful girl was standing there, talking to him, and actually interested in what he had to say.

“Thank you. I- I wasn’t sure if I was the most interesting up there. Are you a student?”

“Yeah, I am. I’m in the FBI Academy, and I’m studying forensic psychology. I actually have done a bit of research using your papers and your work,” she watched as his face grew red, and couldn’t help but smile even more.

“Really? You’ve read my work?” His voice morphed into a more excited tone, his personality slowly peeking out from the curtain it hid behind.

“Yes, I’m a big fan.” It was her turn to blush, for she told herself she wouldn’t make a fool of herself by admitting that fact to him, yet she did.

He felt all the insecurity and disappointment evaporate from his body, and all that was left was a need to get to know this girl more. He took a deep breath to calm himself, simultaneously conjuring up the courage to ask her out.

“Well, if you’d like, I could tell you more about geographical profiling and anything else you want to know, maybe, over coffee?” The last part came out like a question.

His eyes searched her face as her cheeks grew pink and her eyes crinkled from smiling. “I would love that.”

Happiness took residence in him. He removed a business card from his pocket, his hand brushing hers as he passed it onto her. “Give me a call and we can set up a time and place.”

After their goodbyes, he found Emily smiling at him from afar, seemingly witnessing their interaction. He was suddenly glad he didn’t leave when he wanted to.

About you - S. Reid

Pairings : Spencer Reid x BAU! Reader

Warnings : None

Genre : Fluff, or, all the things which make the BAU believe Spencer is in a relationship

Masterlist

Requests are OPEN

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Apple Music - Web Player

About You by The 1975 on Apple Music

Song · 2022 · Duration 5:26

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⊹˚₊‧───────────‧₊˚⊹

She’s not his girlfriend, but the first time they were introduced at the BAU, he let her shake his hand.

She’s not his girlfriend, but she organizes his desk for him.

She’s not his girlfriend, but he gets her coffee every morning before a case briefing.

She’s not his girlfriend, but he lets her draw on his hand when she’s bored.

She’s not his girlfriend, but he wears his glasses more often after she complimented them.

She’s not his girlfriend, but they go to museums and libraries together on their days off.

She’s not his girlfriend, but they have a “classics movie night” every Sunday in his apartment.

She’s not his girlfriend, but while the team go examine crime scenes and interview suspects, they stay behind and work on the profile together.

She’s not his girlfriend, but he lets her rest her head on his shoulder in the jet after a long case.

She’s not his girlfriend, but she listens to his rants with a smile on her face.

She’s not his girlfriend, but Emily and Derek tease him every time she’s around.

She’s not his girlfriend, but Hotch assigns them to be an undercover couple to draw out unsubs.

She’s not his girlfriend, but they arrive and leave Rossi’s dinners together.

She’s not his girlfriend, but she gets jealous every time an assistant or cop flirts with him.

She’s not his girlfriend, until he finally gets the courage to ask her out.

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Lost Chances

Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader Synopsis: Unrequited love. Will they won't they? (they won't <3). A sprinkle of angst. WC: 853

Was it his smile that first caught your eye? Was it his mind, his constant need to know more, coupled with his joy to share that knowledge with others? Or was it when you finally realised your feelings for him, that you began noticing the little things; how your heart thundered in your chest whenever his face lit up. It’s not clear when your feelings for him changed, but you can trace how it grew stronger as the years passed. And while you can’t pinpoint the moment that your feelings for him grew, you can pinpoint the moment he, unknowingly, broke it.  

First there was Lila Archer. You’d noticed how she’d looked at him, how he looked at her. You were privy to the teasing remarks from Morgan, but you brushed it off, tuning it out, believing that nothing would happen – Spencer would never breach that line with a client after all, right? Then why were they in the pool together? Why were they out of breath? Why did he stay back to personally say goodbye, and oh, he kept her magazine cover. 

Then there was Austin, and his charm pulled her in, just like it did to you. And you can't blame any of them – Lila or Austin – for noticing him, for falling for him. He had a way of pulling you into his orbit. If only the force would weaken to ease the pain in your heart. You found yourself wishing you didn’t like him as much. 

But there was no need for it, luck seemed to be turning in your favour, and you believed for the first time, that just as you were being pulled into his orbit, that he was being pulled into yours. He began looking at you the way he looked at everyone that came before you. 

The lingering looks, hands brushing against each other (he’d pull away apologetically, a shy smile curving on his lips), but as it continued, he’d let the touch linger longer, before pulling away. Then came the soft whispers. He’d lean down, just to ask you normal questions about the case, then it was about a book you talked about days ago, then it was asking if you were free to accompany him home, or to dinner after a tough case. And with every smile, every look, every late night conversation, you were slowly building the nerve to confess.

The day finally came. You’d finally built up the nerve to confess and – he blew you off. You knew he didn't mean to, but he just had to go home that night, his migraines were getting worse. You understood, stumbling over your words, stepping back, letting him walk past you.

 Again and again he walked past you. There was always some interruption, his headaches, someone walking in, another case. You thought of sending a text, but there was too much that needed to be said that a text felt impersonal. 

But the reasons slowly died away. Spencer was getting better, his migraines did not bother him as much. Then why didn't you confess? Were you too late?

There was someone else. 

When a new obstacle breaks down, another emerges, and that emerged in the form of the mystery girl.

His once comforting voice now made you bolt and run, yet nowhere was far enough. The fondness in his voice followed you, reminding you that you weren’t his choice. His smiles, his laugh, his affection weren’t yours to claim. Besides you couldn't run very far, not when he’d find you after his phone calls to share his joy with you. How could you turn him away when he was so happy? When he chose you as his confidante, his closest friend, the person he chose to share his joys and sorrows with. Just not his love. 

Why couldn't it be you? You tried helping with his migraines, but Spencer brushed you away, saying he had tried the method before, but thanked you for trying to help. She was the one that helped. 

Maybe this was a sign. Maybe you’d lost your chance. Maybe you had cemented your part in his life, and you just had to accept it. You were his friend, you were thankful to be one of his closest. 

So when his world comes tumbling down, and he needs a shoulder to cry on, you’re there. You’ve always been there. 

He loved her after all, she was the one he chose, the one he wanted, so you stepped away. You accepted your fate, locking your feelings away because you knew if you opened up now, nothing would be the same between the two of you again. You lost your chance – if only you’d built up the nerve sooner. But you could move on from this, it may not be soon, but you could say goodbye to your feelings for Reid, and one day, your pain would lessen, because you finally accepted the truth, your role in his life. 

But just for this moment, you held him in your arms, his grief merging with yours, knowing that this is all you’ll ever be. 

Perv Spencer Reid hc’s!

!Perv!Sepncer! who argues that you should be allowed to wear short skirts and dresses, for womens rights. He just wanted to see you bend over in them

!Perv!Spencer! who suddenly appears behind you when you bend over.

!perv!spencer! who writes down everything you like, wear, eat, do on a small note pad,

I’ll add more these just came to mind! 🎀

after dark | spencer r. x fem!reader

✫彡 genre: fluff/angst

✫彡 summary: spencer gets stuck up at the office working on a case even after he promised he’d be home early, of course he finds a way to make it up to you though

you gazed up at the clock next to the tv again like you had been for the past 3 hours. tick tock, tick tock. the quiet sounds of the house feeling eerie. it was already 11:00pm and your boyfriend still had yet to call or even text saying he was going to be home late. you sighed as you got off the couch, an intense feeling of sleepiness washed over your body as you headed to the kitchen to grab a glass of water before passing out in bed without him.

after gulping down half your cup, you leaned over the counter and pulled out your phone to check your messages. surprise surprise, still nothing. the last thing spencer had said to you was “see you soon, love you” 7:46pm. this wasn’t the first time he had said he would be home early and not held up his promise, but who were you to blame him? of course being super smart and having a eidetic memory was a very important asset to the team, but it had its drawbacks.

you walk down the hall into your shared bedroom, silently slipping on a old t-shirt and some shorts, crawling into bed and turning all the lights off. just as you closed your eyes, the sound of the front door opening sparked an angry fire in your gut. not wanting to rehash old argument you decided to just ignore spencer if he tried to say anything to you. the door to the bedroom opened and you tried to tune out the sound of spencer shuffling around getting ready to sleep until you felt him slip into bed.

he gently shook your shoulder to see if you were still up. “sweetheart, are you still awake?” he asked softly. after a minute of no response from you, he turned to his side and just lied awake still winding down from all the loud late night shenanigans and joking that came from the office. it was hard to just ignore him like this when you know he really meant no harm, but that didn’t stop it from stinging a little. “spence you promised..” you said in a quiet tone. turning over in the bed you met his gaze and saw the sorry look in his eyes. spencer exhaled slowly and sat up turning the lamp on. “im sorry, you know how busy we get with all the paperwork..” he stated in a voice that was laced with guilt. you sat up tears welling in your eyes, “i understand but i feel like i never see you anymore, always caught up with those stupid cases.. i get that your saving these people and i know its unfair of me to say this but sometimes i wish you didn’t have that stupid job.” you finally looked at him completely upset.

spencer pulled you in for a hug and started softly brushing through your hair with his fingers. “its not unfair, i should have let you know..im sorry for not being here, i know i need to make more time for you.” he sighed. “this weekend ill do whatever you want to make it up to you, okay?”. you immediately perked up a little “can we go to that coffee shop i like with the chocolate croissants..?” you slowly escaped his hold and looked him dead in the eyes. he chuckled softly “of course baby, ill buy you as many chocolate croissants as you want, im sorry”

you hugged spencer tight, “im sorry too, now the faster we sleep the faster we get to the coffee shop” you laughed a bit. turning off the light and both of you now laying down, he wrapped his arms around your waist and kissed your forehead. “anything for you my love” he whispered as you guys fell into a deep sleep comforted by the warmth of eachother.

———————————————————————-

a/n: GUYS THIS WAS MY FIRST FIC EVER pls if its shit tell me what i can improve on, i rlly wanted to get into writing but idrk where to start SO TY

Death of a Love Affair

Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Summary: The three times you understood and the final time you couldn’t.

Warning: angst with no happy ending

A/n: this felt oddly personal to me this is my first time writing in the Y/N perspective and in a one shot format so please be kind. I kinda left a possibly for p2, not sure about that yet, but let me know if that’s something you’d be interested in!

Main masterlist || Part 2A (happy end) || Part 2B (sad end)

The first time it happened, you completely understood. 

You had an inkling as to what you were getting into when you started dating a 187 genius who graduated at a young age and who was scouted straight from college by the FBI. It wasn’t hard to comprehend these external circumstances mixed with his internal need to prove himself worthy of belonging with the big boys would result in missed personal events. It was a given, you expected it.

You just didn’t count on him missing your graduation. After all, he gave his word that he’ll be there to see you walk the stage and receive your diploma. He promised you and yet, as you scanned the crowd of loved ones hugging the attendees, there was no sign of his tie wearing, button up lithe form weaving through the crowd, no sign of his slicked hair, meticulously tucked behind his ears and no sign his doe eyed hazel eyes shining with pride as you joined the ranks of adulthood and unemployment.

You reach for your phone, now finally free from the nerves and adrenaline of going up the stage, with a single unread message from the one you wished to be here with you.

I’m sorry, angel. There’s a case and Gideon needs me. 

You sighed with a mild smile sprouting on your glossed lips as you sent back a reply.

No worries! We can celebrate when you get back. Be safe, I love you.

“Oh honey, I’m so proud of you!” Your mom exclaimed, reaching for a hug. “You graduated and with so many achievements—I mean look at all these cords hanging around your neck!”

You laughed as you stepped out from her warm embrace and watched joyful tears gather under her eyes. “Thanks, Mom! Hopefully all these cords help me get a job soon, huh, or else I’ll be moving back home with you.”

“Oh honey, stop joking! As if I wouldn’t welcome you back with open arms,” she quipped back. 

A hand holding a bouquet of flowers shot up to your face. It was a bundle of your favorite, carnations, in ranges of different colors. 

“Congratulations, lil sis,” your older brother, Trevor, breathed out. “Do I get a hug too or is that just for Mom?” 

You giggled as you stepped into his arms, happy to be sharing this moment with your ever loving protector of a brother, no matter how busy he might be as a head chef for his own highly rated restaurant.

“Hey big brother, thanks for being here,” you mumbled in his tight grasp. “Did you pass along my invite to Dad?” 

You felt him subtly shake his head causing your smile to slightly falter. You knew better than to expect the man who gifted you half of his genes to show up—a workaholic, absentee of a father whose love language was to deposit checks to your bank account from his fattened pockets as a lawyer for the rich. It was the cause of your parents’ separation when you were five years old. The matriarch tired from taking up the mantle as both the paternal and maternal figure for both you and your brother. Your mother exhausted from repeatedly believing broken promises uttered to herself and to her babies.

Having seen first hand how each lie wrapped as an oath chipped a piece of the loving and bright woman who gave birth to you and your brother, you vowed to never let that happen to you. It was a cautionary tale engrained in your mind. A fable—a curse really and in hindsight, you should have seen the markings of history repeating itself.

“Now, where is your nerdy pipe cleaner of a boyfriend?” He asked as he scanned around the vicinity for a sight of Spencer.

You shrugged, genuinely alright with your FBI agent of a boyfriend missing this milestone in your life. “Duty called. But that’s okay, we’ll celebrate when he gets back.” 

A pair of eyes, similar to yours, inquisitively studied you as if making sure there was no hidden hurt behind those words uttered. “If you say so,” he stated, turning to your mother who was smiling at the both of you—her greatest treasures. “Mom, let’s get out of here. I had John prep the kitchen for a feast.” 

You and your mom chattered excitedly at the passenger back seat as Trevor backed the four-door navy sedan out of the parking and drove off to his restaurant for the promised lunch graduation.

———

It was well into the night as you were settling in bed when the tell-tale signs of the main door being unlocked echoed through the dark green walls of his apartment. 

“Spence?” You called out, letting him know that you were there instead of in your own apartment, 30 minutes away. 

More shuffling was heard before the object of your love and affection rounded the bedroom door with a set of his own flowers on hand. He breathed out your name in reverence as he went for a kiss, pleased that he had still caught you awake.

“Congratulations, my love,” he smiled as he pulled away from your soft lips. “These are for you and I’m sorry I couldn’t be there.” 

You smiled back, gladly accepting his apologies and flowers. “It’s all good, Spence. I know how demanding your job is. I missed you.” 

“I missed you too. I told Gideon and Hotch that’ll I’ll be unavailable this weekend. It’s just you and me,” he said as he went in for another kiss, unable to resist any longer. Not long after, his outside clothes and your sleepwear were strewn all around the bedroom floor as both your bodies merged into one and reached a mutual crescendo with your gasps and his groans as the choir. 

***

The second time, you moderately understood.

You noted that the BAU was back in full swing with Gideon being brought back to the saddle after what happened in Boston. As his birthday treat, you both agreed to fly in for the weekend to Vegas to visit his mother at the facility. He never would have gone alone should it not have been for your enthusiasm to come with. You loved talking to Diana about Spencer’s childhood during her good days and you also loved being in her presence still even when she was lost in her teaching past—acting out as a student as you got to hear her lectures about literature. 

The bustling at the airport had you tip toeing up to catch a sight of Spencer, your flight departing in about an hour. It was a late Friday afternoon, travelers were piling in for a weekend trip, and he promised to head straight from the Bureau to the airport to meet you by the entrance. Your head swiveled from left to right, biting your lip as the minutes ticked by with no sign of your boyfriend running towards you.

The phone in your jean pocket rang and your heart slightly dropped at the sight of the caller ID.

“Hey pretty boy,” you greeted, naively wishing that this phone call wasn’t a bearer of bad news. “Are you almost at the airport?” 

There were muffled voices heard in the background. “Uhm—actually—”

You sighed, understanding what he wanted to say. “There’s a case,” you stated as a matter of fact. “It’s alright, Spence. I’ll tell your mom something popped up. No worries.” 

“You—you don’t have to go alone. We can always reschedule,” he suggested, the timber of his voice going up an octave as if he was in a panic at the idea of disappointing you.

“You and I both know Diana’s excited about this trip,” you chuckled as you recalled how her doctor had described his mother’s face lighting up every time she was reminded of the visit. “I’ll go and spend some time with her. Maybe even get her to tell me more embarrassing childhood stories about her perfect boy.”

He lightly laughed at your joke to ease the tension and remorse he was feeling. “I could have told you all of it if you just asked.”

“Well, does it include pictures of you too?” You teased as you were checking in at the counter.

There was a stern voice calling for his name in the background, it was Hotch, you silently guessed. 

“Listen, I have to go. The team is about to give the profile,” he rushed out to inform you. “I’ll see you when we both get back. I love you.” 

The call ended without so much of a chance for you to say it back.

As the plane got ready to take off, your mood continued to further dampen. He promised to go—to you and to his own mother via the phone. An ivy seed of doubt was planted in your mind. Did he try to excuse himself from the case to his boss as some sort of birthday gift? It really didn’t work that way, you knew, with how of a high demand his job is but still, you wondered if his team was informed about the plans for this weekend or were they purposely kept out of the loop. That notion wouldn’t surprise you at the slightest, thinking back. The profilers weren’t even aware of his mother’s state and condition. Hell, they didn’t even know that you existed, a girlfriend of two years, until well into his first year at the BAU. 

Deep down you grasped why he keeps Diana a secret. You were aware of the shame and embarrassment he felt for himself, having had to have her institutionalized by the time he reached the age of eighteen. You got that, didn’t mean you understood it but nonetheless, you respected his decision and was even proud of him for reaching out for professional help no matter how much he viewed that action of his cowardly. But what you weren’t really privy to was really why your relationship was kept in the dark. It could have saved him from Morgan’s incessant ribbing of his inability to pick up women.

During one night where your insecurities got the best of you, you asked in a small voice if he was ashamed of the relationship. He vehemently denied it, repeatedly saying that he just wanted to have a secret solace—a happy home to return to that was untouched by the worst human terrors that he encounters on the daily. That was what you were, he explained, a sunlit luscious reprieve filled with flowers and laughter where he could rest his weary bones from the ravaging, dark waves. His own piece of heaven here on earth. He then kissed your fears away that night, hugged you tight into his chest—the vibrations from his humming lulling you to slumber.

———

“I always knew it would take a special girl to understand my special boy,” Diana mused out loud as you plated a slice of cake for her. 

You blushed, sitting down beside her with your own. “He’s perfect. I wouldn’t trade him for anyone else.” 

She affectionately combed through your hair, similar to how her son would. “Thank you. For visiting and being understanding of his erratic schedule.”

“It’s no problem at all, Diana. I love him, I knew what I was getting into when we started dating.” You stated as the ivy seed of doubt sprouted in your mind—did you really? Did you really understand what you were getting into?

***

The third time, you still tried to understand.

There you were surrounded by the purest celebration of love and matrimony, sans your long-haired, sweater vest wearing plus one. Your brother was getting married to the love of his life, vowing himself to be with her for better, for worse and your other half was in another state catching criminals. Fiddling with the diamond engagement ring adorning your finger, you recalled how you ended up alone, dateless, in this joyous occasion. 

You RSVP’ed with a date when the invitation arrived four months ago. Your brother even calling in to make sure that he, your well-celebrated FBI fiancée, will be able to attend a month before the wedding. You internally scoffed at his repeated checking but in retrospect, maybe he saw the end well before you did. You promised to him, as Spencer did to you, that he’ll be available to watch the union and to save all the slow dances with him. But the day before the wedding, the phone rang for a case in Dallas and you knew what it meant. Without so much of a fight, you kissed him goodbye by the door of his now shared apartment and let the dreary silence enveloped you as you think of how to inform your brother of the new change without hearing the pity and patronization in his voice. 

Nursing a glass of red wine, you watched your brother dance with his newly wedded wife and in your peripheral, you spotted your mother approaching you at the table. 

“Now why are you being such a sourpuss during this festive event?” She chimed out as she pulled a chair beside you. “You should be out there, dancing and getting to know our new extended family.” 

You shrugged, unsure on what to say. She was right, of course. All the guests were enjoying themselves and basking in the warm, infectious glow of the happy couple but you didn’t have the courage in you to mask the despondent emotions inside of you.

Your mother sighed and took your left hand in hers. “You know, when your dad and I were going through the proceedings of the divorce, I had moments when I wanted to back out from it. I loved your father, still holds a piece of my heart till this day, and I thought the small moments of happiness when he was around would be enough to tied me through the days when he wasn’t. I thought those times and our love for you kids were sufficient to keep our love from wilting. If I poured out affection and devotion to the home we once built, it wouldn’t crumble surely. But you know what I forgot—”

You turned to face her somber eyes, looking into yours as if searching for something that seemed to no longer be there. 

“—I forgot to take care of myself. I gave a pieces of me away so willing and so many times that when I reached the end of the marriage, I no longer knew who I was. Where the piece of me started and where it ended. You’re withering, my flower. The vibrant life that I once longed to protect in your eyes is slowly dying. I don’t want you to reach the finish line and not know how you got up there. How you ended up giving all yourself away with not a flower bud left to blossom just for you.” 

You felt your hackles rise to defend the relationship. In hindsight, this was you denying the truth that was staring you right in the face. “It’s not like that with Spencer, Mom. It’s just—the job is hectic and it’s been his forever dream. He had finally started to gain his footing when Gideon and Elle left and then the kidnapping happened and that pushed his progress back a bit. But he’s getting there now. We’re stabilizing and we had a discussion—there’s less broken promises. It’s just that this recent case in Dallas was urgent and they needed the team to solve crime. I don’t want to take him away from the country and the people who needs his help and from his dream of solving crimes. I love him, Mom, in all of his entirety and he deserves all the respect and understanding from me as his partner.” 

She squeezed the hand in hers—the left hand adorning the ring, the material manifestation of his vow to you that you had happily accepted. “I‘ve grown fond of Spencer. I see him as another son of mine but darling, sometimes the love you feel for each other is not enough. A relationship takes continuous work—a task that both individuals must pull in the effort and prioritize. Just think about it,” she stated as she stood up. “Now, no more of this depressing talk and this serious energy from you. Go around, dance with your brother, and enjoy.” 

You mustered up a smile as you proceeded to do just what you were told until your feet were sore from all the dancing. But no matter the joyous occasion, it didn’t stop the realization in the form of ivy from taking roots and slowly covering all corners of your mind. 

***

And the final time, you could no longer understand.

The grandfather clock stationed at the corner of the dimly lit apartment struck at two. Your figure was still dressed in your purple fitted dress as you waited for your soon-to-be other half to walk through the door. It was another night of getting your hopes up and broken promises and you were no longer sure how much you could take before the love you held in your heart festers and turns into resentment. 

You promised yourself you’d never be in a situation that you had seen your mother once be in. You became the careful daughter of a careless man who gave little to no effort to cherish the love a woman had freely given to him. You thought with all your cautiousness and logical thinking, the mistakes of the mother would never be repeated. That was naive thinking—you realized now. By actively being aware of the past, you’d forgotten to look ahead and fell deep into the pitfalls of doing the same as your mother did.

Spencer once mentioned that there was a high divorce rate in his line of duty. How he worried and vowed that you both will never join that rate. And that was a promise he’ll be able to keep, you scoffed to yourself, as you spun the ring on the table.

Another shared piece of information floated to the forefront of your mind. How Haley had recently served Hotch, his unit chief divorce papers. You’ve grown close with her over the years, being the only two constant partners to someone working in the BAU. You’ve seen first hand all the missed milestones in Haley’s and Jack’s life as her husband flew around the country with the cavalry, saving the innocent one case at a time. Never taking the time to realize that the once solid foundation of their marriage was crumbling down with every flight he took. Similar to what was happening in the doctor’s own home. 

A set of keys unlatched the mahogany door and a fresh batch of florals were the first that entered through, followed by Spencer looking sheepish as he noted your presence by the sofa. “Angel, I’m so sorry I missed your promotion dinner.” 

Silence greeted him as he stumbled to get to where you were. “Carnations for you.” 

Tears started to form under your eyes. You didn’t want to break but the reality of your decision was setting in. You wanted to falter, to change your mind, to give him another chance but you knew you couldn’t. You’ve given too much of your understanding away and you doubted you have any more to give to this beautiful man who once promised to make you his top priority. 

“I can’t accept them, Spencer.” 

His eyebrows furrowed and his body tensing as if sensing the finality behind your words. “Why not? They’re your favorite.” 

“They are but—” you took a deep breath, steeling your resolve. “—I think we should stop.” 

“W-what? No. No, please,” he stammered out as his own set of tears started flooding his eyes, blurring you from his vision. “I’m sorry I missed the dinner. I’ll make it up to you—I promise just—”

The dam of your emotions broke causing you to freely sob out all the sadness and anger that had collected in your heart. “I’m tired, Spencer. You can’t promise anything to me anymore. You’ve broken so many promises that you’ll only end up breaking them again.” 

He took your hands into his, letting the bouquet fall crushed on the hardwood floor, recognizing the ring missing in your finger. “This time, this time it’ll be different. Please, don’t leave me.” 

“The country needs you, the BAU needs you. But I need you too, Spencer. I love you, I really do but I can’t be your third priority anymore. I don’t deserve that—don’t I deserve to come first before the country and the job?” 

He tightened his hold on your hands as if afraid that you were slipping through his fingers, denying the reality that you already had. “I love you so much. I don’t want to live without you by my side. Tell me how to fix this. Do you want me to leave the BAU? I’ll—I’ll do it, just stay with me, please.” 

You shook your head. “I don’t want you to leave the FBI. Your ambition and integrity is one of the facets that I loved about you and you might end up resenting me down the line if you leave now. It’s not yet your time to leave the BAU, you and I both know that,” you pulled your hands away and slid the ring in front of him. “This belongs to you, I’m giving it back.” 

His shoulder caved in on itself, the weight of it all too much for him to carry. “I don’t want this to be our end. I just don’t.” 

“I don’t want this too, but I need to,” you whispered as your hand reached out to push shoulder length hair out of the way. “Maybe this isn’t the end. Maybe in the future we’d meet again and continue the pages of our love story but for now, I have to do this Spencer. I can’t keep giving a piece of me every time your top priority needs you, I’ll end up hating you if I stay.” 

You leaned in for one final kiss. A salty, tear filled kiss of death to a future you had once envisioned with the beautiful boy before you. A white picket fence with children laughing at the backyard—the American dream fading into nothing as you start to pull away.

“Goodbye for now, Spencer.”

He stared at all the curves and dips in your face one last time as if etching every detail into his already perfect memory.

“Goodbye for now, Y/N.”

and they were roommates pt. 2

pairing : Spencer Reid x fem!student!roommate!reader summary : the BAU team works the case, you get to help word count : 2.3k warning : canon-typical violence, mention of violence and sexual violence A/N : thank you all so much for all the love on part 1 of this !!! I love getting feedback, it's incredibly motivating ! I will probably do a part 3 :)) Also, my cat is sitting next to me as I write this, which I find quite funny

part 1

Back at the police station, Spencer had trouble focusing on the case. His mind kept wandering over to you, wondering what you were doing, how you were doing. He was on edge and the entire team could feel it. Hotch pulled him to the side to ask him if he wanted to give you a phone call. Reid refused, but settled on sending you a text, something he never usually did while working. Something he never usually did because he wasn't the biggest fan of technology and also because he couldn't decipher how you were actually feeling without hearing your voice and all the quirks in the way you spoke which gave away your real feelings.

Sent by Dr. Ironed Socks : < Hey. How are you doing? > Sent by You : < Ok, I'm having a tea on the couch. Geoff is in REM sleep on my lap. Thx for checking <3 >

Your text was followed by a pixelly picture of your slightly overweight (Spencer couldn't use that term to describe Geoffrey around you or you'd get upset) orange cat sprawled out on your lap, legs and arms askew, fast asleep. Spencer felt a small wave of relief spread through him. You were okay for now. Geoffrey was looking after you. Later, he'd help you process and give you all the tools necessary to get over such a traumatic event and move on. It was almost as if that was in his job description.

Returning to the room where the BAU team had settled in, Spencer sent Hotch a grateful nod. Hotch moved his lips in what resembled a small smile, Reid couldn't be sure. "Okay," Garcia's voice resounded from the speaker sitting in the middle of the round table, "I've contacted all of Mary Goldman's professors and it turns out she didn't go to class today. Her first class was at 11:30 but she never showed up." "None of the students we interrogated on campus had seen her after 10:15," Emily spoke up. "Spencer's roommate saw her between 10:30 and 11:00," Rossi intervened. "Okay, we'll get her to come in," Hotch affirmed. Spencer's whole body tensed. You had been the last person to see the victim. His mind was so busy reeling, thinking about everything you'd have to go through as the most promising witness, that he missed Morgan's question.

"Reid?" Derek raised an eyebrow. "Uh, sorry, what did you say?" "What was the time of death according to the coroner?" "14:30," Rossi answered. "It was 14:26, actually," corrected Reid. Rossi rolled his eyes. "Okay, so the unsub has his victim between around, let's say 11:15, and 14:26," Rossi shot a pointed look at Spencer, "that's about three hours and 11 minutes. In those three hours, he had time to take the victim someplace where neither of them would be seen or heard, beat and sexually assault her, and finally dump her in smack-dab in front of the university." "He's definitely organised and wants to send a message," Emily thought aloud. "But what is he trying to say? Look at what I can do? You can't stop me?" "Friends," interrupted Garcia, "I'm going to need at least some information before I even try to get anything out of a search. He's taking and leaving them on campus, so I'm guessing he doesn't necessarily need a vehicle. Does he live in the area?" "Yes, he's local or knows the area, he knows these women and he most likely knows the campus. Search for white males, early twenties with a record of violence and sexual misconduct. Cross-reference that with victims of reported abuse and sexual abuse in the last twenty five years. Run background checks for all university staff. Also have a look at similar victims and MOs in this area in the last five years. This may not be his first time," spoke Hotch. "On it, I'll get back to you when I've found something." "Thanks, Garcia."

You'd taken a shower as soon as you'd arrived home. The water was too hot and you'd scrubbed your skin too hard but getting out, you felt a slight bit better. Heavily disliking the way you still felt, you opted for a cup of Earl Grey tea with milk and sugar. Settling on the couch with a steaming cup in your hands, you tucked your legs beneath you and sighed.

Images of Mary's dead body were printed onto the inside of your eyelids. You still couldn't believe it. Your mind reeled as you tried to think of an explanation for it all. Whichever path you followed, you came up empty. You could not comprehend or imagine any reason of taking the life of an innocent person, especially in such a violent way. Luckily for you, you still didn't know the extent of the violence.

A familiar noise pulled you from your dark thoughts. Geoffrey had just jumped down from his cat tree. You watched him stretch and languidly walk over to you. He meowed once before jumping onto the couch, right next to you. You moved your legs so that you were sitting cross-legged and scratched his head. He purred in delight and pressed himself against you. He sniffed at your tea with an unimpressed look before climbing into your lap before letting himself flop down on his side, stretching out his appendages. You cooed as his pink toe-beans stretched too and laid a hand on his belly, scratching gently. The vibrations of his purrs had a calming effect on you. "Are you trying to make me forgive you for biting my ankle the other day when I wouldn't give you any more treats? You know Spencer says you're a bit overweight, I was just trying to get him to stop body-shaming you, my love..."

A few minutes later, you get a text from Spencer. About thirty minutes after that, you get a phone call from him. "Hey, would you mind coming to the station? It turns out you're the last person to have seen the victim."

"I'll do the cognitive interview." "Reid, I don't think that's a good idea." "Look, yes I'm invested, I know that. But I also know her and-" "Reid, no. This is the reason we such have procedures." "But I-" "Reid." Hotchner's tone translated finality. Spencer's shoulders sank in defeat. He had figured that if he had been the one conducting the interview, maybe it would have been less traumatic for you. He hated the idea of not being there for you, with you, during such a trying moment. He bit his bottom lip.

"I'll do it," volunteered Morgan. Reid felt slight comfort at that, Morgan was one of the few people he would entrust his life to. He could entrust you to him for the interview, even if he didn't like it. Hotchner nodded. "Reid, you work with Garcia, focus on finding other victims with the same MO to help build the profile." Reid nodded and went to find his colleagues.

When you entered the police station, it was almost like he could feel your presence. He came to find you straight away, not wanting to leave alone even for a second. "Hey." "Hey." Reid immediately pulled you in for a meaningful embrace, burying his face in your hair. The smell of your shampoo, conditionner and body wash were bliss to his nostrils. They were a promise that you were here, you were safe, you were okay. Morgan watched from afar, a small smile playing at his lips. He knew Reid, and the hug you exchanged was both too hasty and too tight to be anything casual. "Are you okay? I'm so sorry to have to make you come in, but they're going to do- well I wanted to do it but they wouldn't let me, so it's-"

A slightly older, very muscular and gentle man stepped forward, holding out his hand to you. You shook it. "I'm Agent Derek Morgan. I'm one of Spencer's colleagues. I'll be the one conducting the interview, seeing as there's a conflict of interest with you and Spencer. I hope you can understand that." You introduced yourself and looked at Spencer before answering Derek. "Yes, I understand, it's- it's not a problem." "Great, if you could just follow me, please?" You licked your lips and sent Spencer a look, which he answers with a nod of reassurance and a small smile, before following Derek.

"You can close your eyes if it makes you more comfortable." You were sat in an uncomfortable plastic chair. The light above you was ticking at uneven intervals and the room smelt of worry. You didn't know how you could get any more comfortable, but listening to Morgan's even, alto voice helped a bit. "Okay." You closed your eyes. "You told Agent Rossi that you crossed the victim somewhere around quarter to eleven. Is that correct?" "Uh, yes." "Where did you cross her?" "In the main hall." "Where were you going?" "Um, I had just been to the bathroom and I was heading to my Anglo-American Literary Survey class." "Okay, can you describe to me everything about the moment when you crossed the victim? What you saw, what you felt, smelled, heard? Was anything out of the ordinary?" You opened your eyes.

"Um, I'm sorry, but could you stop referring to Mary as the victim, please? She has a name, which is Mary Goldman, and a victim wasn't the only thing she was." Derek was slightly surprised at your comment but understood where you came from. Separating from the name was a way for profilers to gain some distance from the horrendous violence. Personally knowing the victim, you didn't have such luxury. "Of course, I apologise. What did you feel when you crossed Mary? Was anything out of place?"

You nodded in thanks and tried to bring yourself back to that moment. It seemed unreal, how such a small interaction suddenly held such importance. "O-Okay, uh, my hands are still a bit wet. There weren't any towels in the bathroom. I saw her after she saw me and we exchanged a smile. I thought she looked really pretty today, but I didn't tell her. We really don't know each other that well." "Okay, that's good. Was she wearing anything out of habit for her?" "Uhh, no, she was wearing a pleated skirt and a sweater vest. She often dresses like that, I don't know exactly why I thought she looked pretty. I guess she just looked happy. Nothing was out of the ordinary." "Good. Could you hear or smell anything?" "Yeah, well, there were the voices of other people in the hall. I can hear girls laughing. I smell Mary's perfume when she walks past me. She always wears the same one, it's Chanel, Mademoiselle Coco specifically, she told me once at a party."

"Okay, do you know where she's going?" "I- yeah, she's heading for her Behavioural Neuroscience class." "Is she walking in the right direction?" "Uh... Yes, yes, she is. She's not in too much of a hurry, though, she doesn't like the teacher." "So why is she heading there already, then? The class only starts at 11:30." "She likes to reread the material from the previous week before the class starts." "Why doesn't she like the teacher?" "No one does, all he does is read off his slides and he's a jerk when it comes to grading."

Morgan suppressed a smile at your comment. "Okay, thank you so much, Y/N, this was very helpful." "Was it? I didn't feel like-" "Yes, I promise you've just shared some crucial pieces of information." "O-Okay, if you say so."

All eyes were on Morgan as he entered the briefing room. He put his paper coffee cup down on the table and looked at Hotch. "Nothing was out of the ordinary. Mary was wearing habitual clothes and the same perfume she always wore. She was heading to the same class, as she did weekly, at the same time. My guess is this guy knew her routine and did a blitz attack. Y/N gave me the number of Mary's best friend, and according to her, Mary didn't have any guys in her life except for her dad and brother."

Hotchner nodded. Spencer couldn't help but feeling proud of you for being able to go through with the interview and to provide such useful information, too. He'd have to congratulate you when he got home. "Pretty boy and I found three similar victims in the last three years. They weren't connected to this case because they were in another university, just on the other side of the state line. Last year, three girls, university students, were killed, same MO, all disappeared for about three hours before being found dead in front of the university, they attended," Garcia spoke from the speaker. Spencer nodded in agreement to her words. "What did the police find back then?" asked Emily. "Nothing, they- uh, did all they could during the month that the three murders happened but after the third victim, the unsub stopped," Spencer answered. "Stopped?" Emily repeated, brows drawn together in confusion. "Yeah, he just- stopped killing and disappeared. Our best guess is that something triggered him then and that the same thing triggered him now."

"Oh, another thing," Garcia sounded reluctant to share the information she had, "I looked at all the victims' pictures and... well, I'll just send them to you, that'll be easier."

Spencer's blood ran ice cold as he stared at the four girls on the screen. They all looked exactly like you.

Taglist : (all those of you who wanted a part two <3) @princess-ofthe-pages @usuck @theylovemelody @empressgraytea @xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx @lillianacristina

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. 

Please like, reblog and leave a comment! I need your lovely words to stay motivated to write more stories.

Taglist: @nomajdetective @reidsbookclub @gspenc @samuel-de-champagne-problems @matthew-gray-gubler-lover @malindacath @reidselle @alexxavicry @frickin-bats @spencersprettyslut @sebs-oxygen @happymangospot @cynbx @hotchandspencearedilfs @emiliaserpe @velvetthunder93 @saturnstringz @missabsey @guacam011y @hugyourlungs @reiderwriter @loaksulluyswife @xserenax-13 @grumpyy-bearr @luredwithpretzels @castiels-majestic-wings @super-nerd22 @pleasantwitchgarden @yeonalie @r-3dlips @evvy96 @torigorie @meyaareads @luvdella @bunnylovesani @spenciesslut @billie-lover8 @indyvelazquez @evrmorets

Mundane longing 3.

Spencer Reid x fem!reader

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3]

Summary: Spencer feels drawn to what little family the reader as made, it makes him think differently of his workspace nemesis but he’s unsure what these feelings are…

Word count: 3.3k

An: hi sorry I’m picking this up again and I’ll try to post a new chapter once a week <3

—

The back up was quick to arrive after Spencer called which was immediately after Y/n left the car. Though when daniel tried to make his run and y/n got in the way, he was smart enough to not kill an officer but hit her with his gun on the head as he ran. Just not fast enough.

They got Daniel’s confession of plotting over the victim’s company and an affair with his wife…classic. Y/n had called it apparently and much to Spencer’s displeasure she would rub this in his face for quite a while. Even with a head injury as she sat with legs dangling out of an ambulance pressing on her wound like the medics asked and worked on the injury.

Spencer too kept lingering on the injury closely, as if he’s the medic y/n thought to herself. The band aid was pressed huge on her forehead as Spencer examined it after the medics left “Okay that’s enough” Y/n spoke pushing his concentrated face examining her injury away and proceeded to stand up.

Instantly he sat her down again by her wrists “Do not stand up too fast you’ll get a concussion-”

“Oh and you can prevent that doctor bizarre?” She spoke snorting.

“I can’t but you might just not be able to turn up to the bureau tomorrow. I would have to do the paperwork for our case also I don’t want to be held accountable for your injury, that you caused all by yourself doing something I advised you not to do but you did anyways because of your recklessness.” He explained flashing an ironic smile at her and helped her out of the ambulance, even though she could’ve stood out all on herself.

“But we got the confession! Wait whose theory proved right again? Mine! And whose recklessness got us the confessions? Mine!” Y/n walked in front of him with backward steps to flash her all so victorious face in front of him as they walked towards the car.

She attempted to to open the door to the driver’s seat when Spencer got in her way “Absolutely not. You might have a potential concussion and it’s dark right now believe it or not I’d rather die of old age.” Sighing y/n rolled her eyes and walked to the other side of the car aware he was always so prepared for an argument, she was as well but not as of now. “You’re a reckless driver anyways” Spencer added as the two of the entered the car.

“Just drive.”

Spencer drove the two of them back to y/n’s neighbourhood and most of the ride was just two of them going over each other fault’s on the case, Spencer criticising the stunt she pulled out there, y/n flaunting the success of her side of the theory. It was surprising how shortly the road back to her house leaded, they often lost track of time amongst their constant debates.

Before he pulled up by her house y/n asked him to stop about three blocks down her own house because she had to pickup Julian from his friend’s house. Spencer waited outside in the car as Y/n left, greeted the supposed Julian’s friend’s mom. It was just the later part of the evening around dinner time of suburban houses.

After a while y/n exited the house with Julian in her arms, fast asleep. She opened the door and buckled both her and Julian even though her house was just three blocks down “Pick me up by 10 y/n” she whispered to Spencer chuckling in a mocking of the Julian’s voice. “Guess fake sword fight is tiring enough.”

Reaching her house Spencer was the first one to get out of his seat while y/n unfastened her seat belt Spencer walked around to her seat opening the door for her, he gestured to pick up Julian from her arms but she shrugged her shoulders implying it was alright. “You’ve got a injury, let me” he whispered as y/n gave in. He held Julian in his arms gently holding his torso and supporting the back of the 7 year old’s head with his free hand as Julian’s face settled by the crook of his neck still sound asleep. It wasn’t very often that Spencer would help her out this way, she recalled how he wouldn’t even hold the door for her, he’d shut the door right before she was about to enter the room (she did the same), never once brought her coffee even if he fitted 4 in his hands, probably never even passed her a paperweight. Maybe a little band aid comes with perks she thought as she opened the main door to her house.

With silent steps through scattered toys in the living room careful not to wake up Julian, she guided Spencer through the stairs to Julian’s room. Spencer took in her house as he hadn’t been much further than her living room and office room, the stairway walls were covered with pictures most of them of Julian and of y/n. Pictures of Julian as a baby to his first day of school and some Disneyland trips, arcade, Halloween, Christmas. Some older faces he gathered would be y/n’s parents and others of her family there were even a few pictures from the bau. He let out a low chuckle at her high school photo “That’s you?” He spoke in a hushed tone.

“Shut up.” She glared at him because obviously he found her younger self in her roller blades phase amusing. They reached Julian’s room and Spencer gently placed him on his spaceship themed bed with themed covers. Y/n crouched down to pull the blanket over him kissing the top of his forehead she turned on the night lamp on the side. Spencer observed the very expressive room of Julian as well as a profiler that habit didn’t leave him much. One side of it was forest themed and the other had newer objects of astronomy obsession all around. The curious young minds of a million phases.

Once again reaching downstairs Spencer took his leave since he had to get back to his own house and the night was settling. “I will see you tomorrow” he spoke as y/n leaned on her doorframe seeing him off. “We still have the paperwork left so don’t be late I won’t be doing your part…again.”

“As if you’ve ever covered for me” y/n scoffed as he got inside his car and waved at him one last time as his car pulled out of her driveway.

—

The very next day Y/n entered the BAU announcing very cheerily about the case, who got it right, receiving scoffs from Spencer like always. Emily wasn’t sure if the plan to put them both on a case together might’ve worked or not “At least they didn’t kill one another. Cheers to that” JJ commented raising the cup she had in her hands.

“Don’t get too smug we still have paper work for the case left and I’d be delighted to write how partner irresponsible went completely against what I advised and got herself a head injury!” He added smiling at her pridefully because she was the one who got herself hurt. He’d already told Emily that y/n forgot her gun prior to a stakeout. Snitch.

“If I remember correctly partner irresponsible was the partner who cracked most of the case so well…” her voice trailed off as she tilted her head at Spencer and he rushed to his defence.

“Cracked the case? I’m sorry I’ve only been working alongside you on the case for the past whole week that’s way too much use of singular nouns y/l/n.”

“And you didn’t believe me until we had the confession you want to go there—“

“What do you mean didn’t believe you? Do you just expect me to take your word on cases without no input of—“

This was a usual bau morning. Both of the brightest FBI agents fighting like kindergarteners “Alright alright that’s enough” Emily stopped the ongoing debate of who was more efficient on the case between the two of them and parted them.

The team worked on the new class like always until before lunch break when y/n and Spencer continued on their paper work for their joint case, it took much longer than the rest of their paper case because it involved less clashes. Amidst the work y/n got a call and she hurriedly packed her table to leave, “Where are you going? We still need to deliver these to the next unit.” Spencer asked looking up from his desk.

“I really need to leave can’t you do that yourself?” Y/n spoke focused on finding her keys on the desk.

“We are partners on this case remember so yeah absolutely not.” He amused relaxing further into his seat. “Cant you leave during lunch break it’s almost time.” He’d marked how she often didn’t have lunches at bau but now that he knew of Julian it was quick to gather she’d pick him from school, have lunch with him and return back. Surprisingly she was always on time so always in a hurry but her body language seemed rather stressed as she moved stuff from her desk.

“You know what? Take the papers come with me we’ll drop them off at the unit later it’s Julian’s school there’s an emergency.” She spoke with a distressed demeanour hurrying her way as Spencer got up gathering their joint paper work like she asked him to.

“What happened is everything alright?” He concerned as they walked to her car, she was pacing much faster than usual.

“I don’t know they just called me and told me I’m needed there…urgently!” She exhaled trying to calm her nerves as they buckled to leave. Spencer was sure he hadn’t sat in the passenger seat much tensed as y/n drove quite past the speed limit.

They reached the school and it was almost a bit before the school was supposed to be over since the school buss and the pick up parents were already in their place, plus it was near to their lunch time at bau so Spencer gathered that. The two of them walked through the hallways of the school to the principal’s office and found Julian sitting outside, with crossed arms. Spencer also noticed another kid sitting across him just as upset.

“Julian!” Y/n called out and rushed to him, bending on both of her knees as she scanned the boy for any injuries “What happened?”

“I got into a fight with Tyler” the boy replied with a downcast look as if he was embarrassed for what was about to come.

“It’s okay are you hurt anywhere?” Y/n cooed as he shook his head before she could be briefed more the door to the principal’s office opened as she stood up. “Stay here” she told Spencer as he took a seat next to Julian on the little bench.

“What happened buddy?” Spencer asked him softly as the boy huffed dramatically sitting forward.

“You see Tyler over there?” He whispered back to Spencer “He is always fighting with me. Always. Today Miss Rosie decided to sit the two of us together so we would stop fighting. During recess he stole one of my Oreos and y/n only packs me two!” He exclaimed shrugging his shoulders at Spencer.

“Well isn’t it a good habit to share?” Spencer spoke raising his brows at Julian but he had a resort for that too.

“It is! But he never wants to share the carrots or the spinach he always just steals the Oreos! He does it to everyone! We had an argument after snack time again and he circled all his friends and wasn’t letting it go! So I tried moving past him but he fell…all on his own! I didn’t even push him he wasn’t even hurt but he lied and told everyone I pushed him!” He explained to Spencer very defensively and he took note of his his brows furrowed together just like y/n’s, most of behaviourism habits amongst kids start at home. It looked almost resembling to y/n’s for Julian it was alright but y/n was always this dramatic.

Before Spencer could hear more of that the school bell rang as the kids flooded out of their classrooms along with y/n out of the principal’s office with supposedly Tyler’s mom given how she walked to the other kid with a cross look on her face.

Before y/n could greet her goodbye she left with Tyler rolling her eyes. Sighing y/n looked down at Julian as he held her hand to walk outside. “Come on” she told both of them flatly as they exited the building.

The ride back was completely silent, at least for a moment. Y/n kept looking back at Julian through the rear view mirror as he looked outside the window, acting clueless. “You pushed him?” She amused scoffing with a surprise, finally breaking the silence.

“I did NOT, he held the door to our class with all his friends and wasn’t letting me go!” Julian replied folding his arms.

“So you pushed him?!” Y/n asked again with her eyes on the road but she looked at Julian through the mirror, “And over what? What did you even fight about?”

“Everyone in my class knows you’re the big police-“ Julian began but Spencer couldn’t help interrupting at the term ‘big police’

“Uh what is big police?” He questioned but y/n replied for him shortly.

“FBI is the big police for him.”

“Because it is y/n! I told him you got hurt by your head fighting off the bad guys and everyone thought that was so cool! But because you told Jake’s mom in the morning what actually happened everyone laughed at me why did you do that!” He exclaimed turning around the blame.

“Wow-wow!” Y/n gasped surprised “Why did you lie?” She emphasised on you “I told you I was doing the laundry last night and the edge of the machine hit my head-that’s what happened and that’s what I told jake’s mom because she asked me!” It was infact a lie and Julian’s theory if only to look cool, was right but Spencer knew that and he looked at y/n confused. She gave him a slight nod meaning she’d explain later and he wasn’t the one to burst her lie as it is she would’ve surely thought something behind telling Julian another story.

“That sounds lame! Being the big police fighting bad guys makes you sound so much cooler. Jake told Tyler what you told his mom and you weren’t that cool anymore!” He waved his hands in the air resting them at the sides of his seat.

“Well Julian you know we don’t lie so there’s that…” she explained to him as her voice trailed off.

“And for the record I did not push him! He fell because of him and wasn’t even hurt but he blamed me—also he called you fake!”

“Called me fake?” Y/n asked confused on what that implied even though she wasn’t as interested in first grader’s insults but it mattered to Julian.

“He said FBI stands for fake bad investigation police!” Julian spoke and Spencer couldn’t help but smile at that and remained silent as the scene unfolded in front of him.

“What? I’ve told you what FBI means what does it matter?” She spoke unable to smile herself at how creative first graders were.

“I know and I told him thousand million times that it stands for French stick beauty of investigation.”

“Forensic bureau of investigation.” Both y/n and Spencer corrected him at the same time as he nodded sure that, his pronunciation was the correct one. “Either ways Julian, I know you don’t like Tyler but if you try and be nice to him he’ll be your friend in no time!”

“But I don’t want to be his friend!” Julian exclaimed.

“Yeah and he also steals his Oreos!” Spencer added for him as Julian sat forward in his seat agreeing with Spencer who only found this dispute as funny as y/n did but she was the one who had to deal with it of course.

“Don’t.” She spoke to Spencer “No Julian see if you make up your mind you don’t want to be friends with certain people because you got off on the wrong foot you’ll miss out on a lot of great friendships!”

“Then why are you not friends with Spencer?” The boy asked raising both his brows being in the interrogating position now. “He doesn’t seem a meanie to me! You also once called him the s-word.” Y/n often shared talks of her friends and how her days went in Julian’s language the way he would talk to her about his day and Spencer was well…her arch nemesis.

“The S-word?” Spencer fake gasped crossing his arms at y/n.

“S-t-e-w-p-i-d.” Julian whispered to Spencer but y/n heard it too and she was aware the s-word stood for stupid.

“Wow!” This time Spencer was actually shocked “Stupid? Y/n seriously?”

“Come on” she huffed shrugging it off as if she hadn’t said much worse to his face already and likewise “I am friends with Spencer you see even though he doesn’t listen to me often makes my job harder and always picks fights at me he’s still my friend and I’m nice to him.”

“Of course not!” Spencer exclaimed almost instantly “Im the one who’s nice to her she’s always bullying me.” Both his and Julian’s laugh followed as y/n nudged Spencer’s elbow “See! She is my Tyler-always stealing my coffee…rolls my chair everytime she passes by always-“

“Okay okay that was one time but did you know he’s always whining and making up complains about me to Emily?” Y/n defended herself but as their conversation escalated they’d both realised how many similarities their feud had to a dispute between first graders. Maybe the team wasn’t that wrong after all.

Pulling up by her house y/n dropped off Julian as his nanny was already there, she’d told him she’d return for lunch with him right after she drops off the papers to an ‘actual’ police unit and Julian took a note of flaunting about y/n knowing actual police in his school tomorrow.

—

As it was just the two of them in the car again Spencer asked “Why did you tell Julian you got hurt by the edge of the washing machine?” He wouldn’t possibly judge her of course he was just curious given Julian preferred the better sounding story anyways.

“It’s a cool story to him now if I tell him I fought off the bad guy, caught a murderer and so on but you know when he grows up I don’t want him to think that I’m in danger with the job I do…once he reaches an age where he understands more he’ll only be afraid about this stuff and I’d rather him know a lame story than be afraid.” She explained simply as Spencer was a bit stunned. In truth, all their lives often remained on brisk with some complicated cases. But she’d thought much further for how Julian would feel about it, she was that understanding.

The serene worrying air she carried around her whenever anything came to Julian was truly a self or her he wasn’t aware of. The little family she had in Julian, the nurturing childhood she was giving him. As much as it hurt him to think neither of his parents could give that to him what y/n was managing quite well all on her own. Not once she’s shown up at the BAU without a smile or bothered with the hectic scenes of home given raising a child all by oneself wasn’t easy. At the same time it also troubled him why he was thinking of y/n this way, she was great for Julian but what of it? She was still his annoying colleague why did so much thought of her even occupy him?

—

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