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gf2bellamy · 2 days ago

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enough ( part two ) — spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader ( no use of y/n ) summary: it's been a week since your conversation with spencer content warnings: mention of insecurites , very emotional , a/n: a lot of people asked for a pt2 so here it is :) hope you guys enjoy this <33

part 1

A week had passed. Seven long days. It could have been a peaceful week—a rare break from the chaos of working in the BAU.

No cases, no unsubs, just quiet.

But instead of enjoying it, you found yourself curled up on your couch, staring blankly into the void of your living room.

The words Spencer had spoken haunted you. “I’m in love with you.” They played on an endless loop in your mind, each repetition like a dagger twisting deeper into your chest.

How many times had you cried in the past few days? You’d lost count somewhere around five, but it hardly mattered.

The tears came in waves—sometimes in the middle of the night, sometimes while staring at a book you weren’t reading, and sometimes when you least expected them, triggered by the smallest of things.

You hated yourself for how you’d handled it. For how you’d shut him down, pushed him away. For the look on his face when he left your room that night.

And then there was the dread. The gnawing, suffocating dread of what came next. Because at some point, your phone would buzz.

At some point, someone from the team would call or text, and you’d have to go back to work.

You’d have to see Spencer again.

The thought of being in the same room as him made you feel like you were unraveling. Would he act like nothing had happened? Would he be distant? Could you even bear to meet his eyes?

You squeezed your eyes shut, pressing your palms to your temples as if you could physically push the thoughts away.

It didn’t work.

The memory of his voice, his expression, the sheer vulnerability in his confession—it all came rushing back, sharp and vivid.

And then there was your own voice, trembling as you’d told him you weren’t enough. That you’d ruin him. That he deserved better.

That was the worst part. You wanted to believe him.

But the fear was still there, gnawing at the edges of your resolve. You couldn’t stop questioning yourself, your worth, your ability to give him what he deserved.

You let out a shaky breath, your hands dropping to your lap as you stared blankly at the coffee table. A half-empty mug of tea sat there, long since cold. Your phone lay beside it, the screen dark and mercifully silent.

For now.

Two days later, the thing you’d been dreading finally happened.

Your phone rang, the shrill sound cutting through the quiet of your room. You groaned, rolling onto your side and blindly reaching for the device on your nightstand. Your fingers fumbled for a moment before you grabbed it and pressed it to your ear.

“Hey, we’ve got a case,” Derek’s voice came through.

Your stomach dropped.

“I’ll be right there,” you mumbled, your voice groggy.

As soon as the call ended, you swung your legs over the side of the bed and sat there for a moment, gripping the phone tightly.

Your heart was racing, the feeling of panic building in your chest.

You stood, your legs feeling heavier than usual as you made your way to the closet. Pulling on your clothes, you tried to focus on the motions—zipping up your jacket, tying your shoes—but your mind kept drifting. To Spencer.

Your fingers trembled slightly as you brushed your hair back and grabbed your bag.

Get it together, you told yourself, but the words felt hollow.

The drive to the office was a blur. You barely registered the streets you passed, the familiar route offering no comfort as your thoughts swirled endlessly.

By the time you pulled into the parking lot, your hands were gripping the steering wheel so tightly that your knuckles had turned white.

Once parked, you killed the engine and sat there, the silence pressing in around you. Your fingers started tapping on the wheel—a nervous habit you couldn’t seem to shake.

Focus. You’ve done this a hundred times before. Just... put your personal stuff aside. You have a job to do.

You took a deep breath, closing your eyes for a moment as you tried to calm the racing of your heart.

The memory of his voice, his confession, his heartbreak—it all came rushing back, and your stomach twisted painfully.

Stop it. You shook your head sharply, trying to push it all away. There was no room for this now.

You grabbed your bag, stepping out of the car and shutting the door with more force than necessary. The crisp morning air bit at your skin, grounding you slightly as you made your way toward the building.

Each step felt heavier than the last, but by the time you reached the elevator, you forced yourself to stand a little straighter. The doors opened, and you stepped inside, pressing the button for the floor where your team worked.

As the elevator doors slid open, you took a deep, steadying breath.You stepped into the bullpen, your shoes clicking softly against the tiled floor as you made your way to your desk.

Setting your bag down, you instinctively glanced at Spencer’s desk just across from yours. His bag was already there, a clear sign he’d arrived earlier than you—no surprise there. But seeing it sent a fresh wave of panic rolling through your chest.

You headed straight for the conference room. The case briefing would be starting soon and you did not want to get in trouble with Hotch for being late.

You pushed the door open slowly, almost hesitantly, and peeked inside. A relieved breath escaped you when you saw only Penelope sitting there, her bright, cheerful presence immediately calming you.

“Morning, Pen,” you greeted, stepping inside and letting the door close behind you.

“Good morning, sunshine,” she chirped, looking up from her laptop with a warm smile. Her outfit, as always, was a kaleidoscope of color and patterns, and just seeing her made the room feel a little less heavy. “How are you this fine morning?”

You hesitated, forcing a smile onto your face as you slid into a seat across from her. “I’m... here.”

Penelope raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying your vague answer. “Uh-huh. And how’s the rest of you?”

You blinked, caught off guard by how quickly she’d zeroed in on your mood. “I’m fine, really. Just tired,” you lied, avoiding her gaze.

Penelope didn’t look convinced, but she didn’t press—at least, not yet. Instead, she leaned back in her chair, watching you with a knowing expression that made you squirm.

“Alright,” she said finally, her tone light but her eyes sharp. “I’ll let you off the hook for now. But you and I both know that when you say ‘fine,’ you mean the opposite. And as your friendly neighborhood tech queen, it is my duty to investigate further.”

Despite yourself, you let out a small laugh, shaking your head. “Noted.”

The door opened again, and you tensed instinctively, glancing over to the door. But it wasn’t Spencer—it was Hotch, followed closely by Derek and Emily.

You relaxed slightly, turning your attention to the case file Penelope slid across the table. But even as you flipped it open and started scanning the details, a small part of you couldn’t stop bracing for the inevitable moment Spencer would walk through that door.

Two minutes later, the door opened again.

Spencer stepped inside, clutching his bag and muttering a quick, “Sorry I’m late.” His voice was soft, almost hoarse, and he moved quickly to take a seat at the table without making eye contact with anyone.

Penelope paused for just a beat, her eyes flicking toward him in concern, but she quickly resumed her explanation, her usual enthusiasm a little more subdued.

You kept your gaze glued to the file in front of you, but it was no use. Your heart was pounding so loudly in your chest that you were sure everyone could hear it.

Don’t look at him, you told yourself. But the pull was too strong. Slowly, cautiously, you let your eyes drift up, stealing a glance at him across the table.

And that’s when you saw it.

Miserable. That was the only word for it.

He didn’t look like himself. His usually bright, curious eyes were dulled with exhaustion, framed by dark circles that told you he hadn’t been sleeping well—if at all. His hair was a little messier than usual, strands falling into his face as he bent over his files

Your chest tightened painfully.

This was your fault.

You tore your gaze away, looking back down at your file even though the words blurred together. Guilt churned in your stomach.

You’d been so wrapped up in your own fears and insecurities that you hadn’t stopped to think about what all of this was doing to him.

Penelope’s voice carried on in the background, but it sounded distant, like you were underwater.

You heard snippets—details about the unsub, the profile they were building—but none of it stuck. Your mind was too busy spiraling.

You glanced at him again, unable to help yourself. You watched him go through each page of the file. For a moment, his hand stilled, and he glanced up—just for a second.

Your eyes met, and your breath caught in your throat.

It was quick, barely more than a flicker of a moment, but it was enough. You saw the hurt there, before he quickly looked away.

Your fingers tightened around the edges of your file, the paper crinkling slightly under your grip.

You knew deep down that if you’d just told Spencer you didn’t feel the same way, he wouldn’t be acting like this. He’d be hurt, yes, but he’d move on. He was kind, understanding—he’d respect your boundaries.

But that wasn’t the truth.

The truth was you did feel the same way. And because of your own fears, because of the deep-rooted insecurities that whispered you’re not good enough for him, you were both caught in this endless cycle of hurt.

You barely registered Hotch’s words as everyone started shuffling out of the room. Spencer didn’t waste a second—he was the first to leave, his long strides taking him out the door without so much as a glance in your direction.

You sat there for a moment, staring down at your files, as the sound of footsteps and conversations faded into the background. The knot in your stomach tightened.

Standing up, you gathered your things, forcing yourself to focus on the task at hand.

You stood up slowly, clutching the file to your chest like a shield. You had just taken a step toward the door when Derek’s voice stopped you in your tracks.

“Hey, hold up,” he said, leaning casually against the edge of the table.

You turned to face him, doing your best to keep your expression neutral. “What’s up?”

Derek tilted his head slightly, studying you with those sharp profiler eyes that missed nothing. “You tell me. Something’s been off with you lately.”

You blinked, caught off guard. “Off? I’m fine, Derek.”

“Uh-huh.” He crossed his arms, giving you a pointed look. “Fine doesn’t look like you zoning out every five minutes. Or avoiding certain people.”

You froze, your grip tightening on the file in your hands. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Come on.” Derek said, his voice softening slightly. “We’re all profilers here. You think we haven’t noticed what’s going on between you and Reid?”

Your heart dropped.

“There’s nothing going on,” you said quickly, too quickly. “We’re just—”

“Don’t even try that,” Derek interrupted, raising an eyebrow. “I’ve seen the way you two look at each other. And I’ve definitely seen the way you're avoiding each other.”

You opened your mouth to protest, but no words came out. Because he was right.

Derek sighed, stepping closer and lowering his voice. “Look, I’m not trying to get in your business. But whatever’s going on, it’s messing with both of you. And that’s not good—for the team or for you two.”

You looked away, your chest tightening.

“I don’t want to hurt him.” You said finally, your voice barely above a whisper. “

“And what do you think you’re doing now?” Derek shot back, his tone gentle but firm. “You think this is easier on him? On you?”

You didn’t respond. You couldn’t.

Derek sighed again, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder. “Just... think about it, alright? Talk to him. You two are better than this.”

With that, he gave your shoulder a reassuring squeeze before walking away, leaving you standing there with your thoughts swirling.

You stared down at the file in your hands, Derek’s words echoing in your mind.

What do you think you’re doing now?

Half an hour later, you were sitting in your seat on the jet, staring blankly out the window as the rest of the team filed in. You had deliberately chosen a seat as far away from Spencer as possible, and you weren’t surprised to see he’d done the same.

The jet lifted off, the familiar hum of the engines filling the cabin as everyone settled into their roles. You opened the case file on your lap, pretending to read, though none of the words seemed to stick in your mind.

“Alright,” Hotch’s voice broke through the silence, snapping you back to reality. “Here’s the plan. Rossi and Emily, I want you to head to the crime scene and coordinate with the local police. Derek, you’re with me—we’ll talk to the victim’s family and follow up on their statements. And you two—” he glanced between you and Spencer—“work on the geographical profile. I want a better idea of where the unsub might be operating.”

Your breath hitched. You felt Spencer stiffen from across the cabin, but neither of you said a word.

“Understood,” you managed to say, your voice steady despite the anxiety bubbling inside you.

Spencer gave a small nod, his expression unreadable.

Once you landed, the others dispersed to their respective tasks, leaving just you and Spencer in the small conference room.

You both moved around the table quietly, spreading out the maps and working in parallel, careful not to cross paths. The markers in your hands squeaked softly as you outlined possible areas of interest.

“Do you think this area here could be significant?” you finally asked, breaking the silence and pointing to a spot on your map.

Spencer looked up briefly, his gaze flicking to where you were pointing. “It’s possible,” he said curtly. “It’s close to the highway, so it would make for an easy escape route.”

“Right,” you said, nodding. You added a note to the side of the map, trying not to focus on how detached he sounded.

The silence stretched on again, but it wasn’t the comfortable kind you used to share with Spencer.

This was heavy, awkward, and filled with all the words you weren’t saying.

By the time the rest of the team returned, you were so mentally drained that hearing Hotch announce you’d pick things up in the morning was a relief.

You didn’t waste any time. The moment you were dismissed, you grabbed your things and headed straight to the hotel.

Your body felt heavy, not just from the day’s work but from the emotional weight of the tension with Spencer.

When you finally made it to your room, you let the door close behind you with a soft click and dropped your bag onto the floor.

You collapsed onto the bed, letting the plush mattress engulf you as you closed your eyes. For a brief moment, you allowed yourself to exhale, to let the day melt away, but it didn’t take long for the familiar ache in your chest to return.

You could still see his face in your mind—the way he’d looked at you, the hurt in his eyes. You squeezed your eyes shut tighter, willing the image away, but it was no use.

Why did it have to be like this? Why couldn’t you just let yourself be happy, let yourself take the leap?

You groaned softly, burying your face in the pillow. It was no use. No matter how much you tried to push him out of your mind, Spencer was always there.

Shaking your head, you sat up and swung your legs over the edge of the bed, trying to force yourself to snap out of it. You reached for your bag and rummaged through it, pulling out a big hoodie and a pair of oversized sweatpants.

They were your comfort clothes, and right now, you needed all the comfort you could get.

Once changed, you padded into the bathroom to brush your teeth. The fluorescent light buzzed softly above you, and as you stared at your reflection in the mirror, you froze.

It had been a long time since you’d really looked at yourself, and the sight before you was startling. Dark circles framed your tired eyes, and your face looked drawn, as though the life had been slowly drained out of you.

You looked miserable.

As miserable as Spencer did.

You gripped the edge of the sink, your toothbrush dangling limply from your other hand. The realization hit you like a punch to the gut.

The hurt you saw in his eyes earlier today wasn’t just his—it was yours too.

Tears pricked at your eyes, but you blinked them away quickly.

You set the toothbrush down and splashed cold water on your face.

You leaned against the sink, water dripping from your chin, and stared into your own eyes.

How had it come to this? You’d faced down killers, survived unimaginable danger, and yet here you were, completely unraveled by the thought of loving—and being loved by—Spencer Reid.

You thought back to the conversation you’d had with Derek, his words echoing in your mind. He wasn’t wrong.

You were hurting Spencer. And in doing so, you were hurting yourself.

But what could you do now? How could you undo the damage you’d caused when you weren’t sure you could even face him again?

While you sat in your hotel room, wrestling with your thoughts, Spencer sat in his, just a few doors down.

He couldn’t shake the image of you today—how your eyes had darted to his when you thought no one was looking, how you’d quickly looked away the moment he caught you.

It wasn’t just the silence between you that hurt; it was the loss of the friendship.

His heart ached. He missed you so much it felt like a physical pain, a hollow ache in his chest that wouldn’t go away.

Spencer leaned back against the headboard, his hands resting limply on his lap as he stared at the ceiling. He’d replayed the argument between you two a hundred times in his mind.

At this point, he wasn’t even sure if confronting you about his feelings had been the right decision.

Part of him wished he could go back to the time when he wasn’t certain if you liked him back.

At least then, he could cling to hope, to possibility.

But now? Now he knew the truth—that you loved him too—and yet it felt worse. Because while his confession had brought a fleeting moment of joy, it had been snatched away by the words that followed.

Spencer squeezed his eyes shut at the memory, his chest tightening. It hurt him that you thought of yourself that way. That you couldn’t see what he saw in you.

To him, you were everything. Kind, intelligent, brave—more than enough. And it pained him to know that you didn’t believe that.

That you thought you weren’t good enough for him, as if he were some perfect, untouchable figure who couldn’t see his own flaws.

He sighed, rubbing his temples as he tried to clear his mind. But no matter how hard he tried, your face kept appearing, your words replaying in his head like a broken record.

A knock on his door startled him, and he quickly sat up, hoping it was news about the case. But when he opened the door, what he saw left him momentarily frozen.

You.

You stood there in your oversized hoodie and baggy pants, your hair slightly disheveled and your eyes red from what was likely hours of crying.

The sight of you, so vulnerable, made his heart twist painfully in his chest.

Without a word, Spencer stepped aside, opening the door wider to let you in. You hesitated for a moment before walking past him, your steps slow and uncertain as you stopped near the edge of his bed.

He closed the door softly, turning to face you.

“Hi,” you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Hi,” he replied, tilting his head slightly as he studied your face. His tone was gentle, but there was a hint of confusion in his eyes.

You fidgeted with the hem of your hoodie, your gaze darting around the room before finally settling on him. “I’m sorry for... just showing up like this. I didn’t know what else to do.”

Spencer shook his head. “You don’t have to apologize.”

Another beat of silence passed. He could see you struggling to find the words, your brows furrowing as you looked down at your hands.

You stammered, your words tripping over each other as you struggled to meet his eyes. “I... uhm,” you began, your voice shaky, barely above a whisper.

You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself, but the intensity of his gaze made it nearly impossible.

His heart ached as he took in the sight of you—disheveled, vulnerable, and clearly torn apart.

“Spence,” you finally said, your voice trembling as you clutched the hem of your hoodie to ground yourself. Hearing his nickname from your lips again made his heart skip, though it was bittersweet.

He missed it, missed you.

“I’m sorry,” you choked out, the words tumbling from you as if they’d been trapped for days. “I’m so sorry. I never meant to hurt you like this, and I—” Your voice cracked as you rambled, your breathing uneven. “That’s exactly what I was trying to avoid—” You broke off, tears slipping down your cheeks as you looked anywhere but at him, avoiding the weight of his gaze.

Spencer’s chest tightened at your words, the pain and guilt evident in your voice cutting through him.

He stepped closer, his movements slow, cautious, as if afraid you might bolt. “Stop,” he said softly, his voice calm but firm.

You shook your head, the tears falling faster now. “I was trying to protect you,” you whispered, your voice breaking again. “From me. From all of this. I didn’t want to hurt you, but I’ve done exactly that. I have ruined everything”

His brows furrowed deeply, and he took another step closer, the distance between you shrinking. “You haven’t ruined anything,” he said, his voice gentle but resolute.

You finally met his eyes, your own filled with guilt and anguish. “How can you say that?” you asked, your voice barely audible. “Look at us. Look at what I’ve done. I’ve hurt you, Spencer, and that’s the last thing I ever wanted to do.”

Tears continued to spill down your cheeks no matter how much you tried to wipe them away. Your hands trembled as you fumbled to control your emotions, but it was useless.

“Stop,” Spencer said gently, his voice soothing yet firm. He stepped closer, the hesitancy in his movements showing how carefully he was treading around your fragile state. He stopped just inches away, searching your face for permission before he reached out.

His fingers brushed against your cheek, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. The touch was soft, careful.

Then, with both hands, he cupped your face and used his thumbs to wipe away the tears streaming down your cheeks. His touch was warm, making it impossible to focus on anything but him.

Your breath hitched as you opened your eyes, meeting his. His gaze was soft, filled with a tenderness that made your chest ache.

You could see the concern there, the care, the love he had for you. It made the guilt in you swell.

“I’m really sorry,” you whispered again, your voice cracking under the weight of your emotions.

His hands stayed on your face, steady and unmoving, as though he were anchoring you. “You don’t have to keep apologizing,” he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Yes, I do,” you insisted, your voice trembling. “I hurt you, Spencer. I pushed you away. I—”

“Stop blaming yourself,” he interrupted, his voice breaking slightly, though his tone remained gentle. “Please, stop. I know you’re scared. I know you think you’re not good enough, but... do you realize how incredible you are? How much I—” He paused, closing his eyes for a moment as he steadied himself. “How much I love you?”

Your lip quivered, fresh tears threatening to spill as his words washed over you. You wanted to believe him.

You wanted to let yourself believe.But your doubts lingered, the years of insecurities weighing you down like an anchor.

“I don’t want to ruin you,” you whispered, your voice so quiet it was almost drowned out by the sound of your shaky breaths. “You deserve someone who can give you everything, someone who—”

“Stop,” he said once again, his voice more insistent now. His thumbs brushed your cheeks again, wiping away another round of tears. “You don’t get to decide that for me. You don’t get to tell me who I should love or what I deserve.”

You blinked at him, staring into his hazel eyes.

“I don’t want someone else,” he continued, his tone softening but his resolve unwavering. “I don’t care about perfect, and I don’t care about whatever you think you’re lacking. I want you. With all your flaws, all your fears, all your messiness. I want you. And the only thing that’s ruining me right now is the idea that you don’t believe me.”

You swallowed hard, his words hitting you like a wave. He looked at you with such sincerity, such unshakable devotion, that it left you speechless.

What could you possibly say to that? To the sweetest, most genuine man alive, standing in front of you, telling you he loved you and no one else? You felt the words lodged in your throat, tangled with fear and disbelief.

You closed your eyes for a moment, trying to gather your thoughts, trying to make sense of the storm of emotions swirling inside you.

“Spencer,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “I... I don’t know how to do this.”

He didn’t move, didn’t take his hands from your face and you felt the way his thumbs gently brushed against your skin.

“You don’t have to know,” he said softly. “We don’t have to have it all figured out. I just need you to let me in. To trust me.”

His words were a plea, gentle but so full of emotion that it made your chest ache. You opened your eyes and looked at him, his face inches from yours, his expression filled with a vulnerability that matched your own.

“I’m scared,” you admitted, your voice breaking. “I’m scared I’ll mess this up, Spencer. Scared I’ll hurt you again..”

“You won’t,” he said firmly, his voice steady despite the crack of emotion in it. “You can’t. Do you have any idea how much you mean to me? I’m standing here telling you that I love you, that I want you, and nothing you say or do is going to change that. Not your fears, not your doubts, nothing.”

You shook your head slightly, tears brimming in your eyes again. “But you deserve so much better—someone who isn’t this... this mess. Someone who can—”

“Stop,” he interrupted, his voice gentle but firm. “Stop deciding what I deserve. Stop convincing yourself that you’re not enough. Because you are. You always have been.”

His words broke something inside you, the walls you’d built around your heart crumbling under the weight of his love. A sob escaped your lips, and you brought your hands up to cover your face, trying to hold yourself together, but Spencer wouldn’t let you retreat.

He gently took your wrists, pulling your hands away from your face as he stepped even closer. “Look at me,” he whispered.

You did, reluctantly, your tear-streaked face meeting his unwavering gaze.

“I love you,” he said again, his voice softer now, but no less certain. “and I love all of you.”

You stared at him, your heart pounding, his words sinking in deeper than you thought possible.

For a moment, the air between you was heavy with emotion, neither of you speaking as you stood there, so close yet so unsure of what would happen next.

Then, slowly, hesitantly, you stepped forward, your arms wrapping around him as you buried your face in his chest.

His arms came around you immediately, holding you tight, as though he was afraid you’d slip away.

You could feel his heart beating against yours, steady and sure, and for the first time in what felt like forever, you let yourself believe that maybe, just maybe, this could work.

#criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #criminal minds x you #spencer reid #spencer reid angst #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #criminal minds fic

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muetiverse · 3 days ago

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ITS THE GUY FROM SONIC

And the overrated baby gurl bi autiisism

the way his jaw moves is such a turn on #need

#criminal minds #spencer reid #why died #why #matthew gray gubler #he’s cute and i’d date him but like #no

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esote-rika · 4 hours ago

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lose some, win some | Spencer Reid Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Waldorf!Reader Category: Hurt/Comfort, Smut 18+, MDNI Summary: COLLEGE AU! When your debate team loses the national championship, you and Spencer return to your shared room and find a productive way to take out your frustrations. Content: Waldorf!Reader is a sore loser, lots of dialogue in the beginning, Sassy!Spencer, some talk of misogyny, Spencer makes up for it by being a munch (so f receiving oral), virgin!Spencer but he’s also a little shit, they are both little shits but it’s cute I swear, handjob, raw p in v but reader mentions she is on the pill, creampies, multiple orgasms for both of them (they’re frustrated and horny give them a break) Word count: 4.8k (it's porn with a plot for once) A/N: Not really frenemies or rivals, they’re just really angry young adults. Idk what Spencer’s actual age was in college, but he studied several times so for this fic, he’s on his third degree and is 21. If the debate stuff is incorrect, I'm sorry. I did do some research but there's so many different rules and styles lmfao. My friend who competes says it’s fine and understandable so :) also massive thanks to @just-call-me-by-yn @mggslover and @notlongtolove for helping me brainstorm and @wheresmacoffee because she was there JK ILY ANDY their banter during the filthy part is for you <3.

Spencer Reid doesn’t particularly care about the prestige that comes with winning. Most people crave it for the validation, or because it’s another impressive thing they can slap onto their resumes, but being a genius his entire life allows him not to worry about that. His academics speak for themselves. He doesn’t need to pad it with extracurriculars. Instead, he enjoys the skills that are honed from debate—learning to listen to arguments, finding the perfect way to rebut, memorization and reviewing with like minded individuals. The university team is a well oiled machine composed of four people— him on his third degree, two other male juniors, and you, the only woman.

Over the span of two semesters, he’s memorized the quirks of his teammates. It’s essential to building rapport, after all, and he’s eager to get something good out of this. Something less academic, and more social. Friends, perhaps. While he’s formed a bond with the other members, you have always been an enigma. Stoic and ambitious, you remind him of a statue. Cold and oh so beautiful. You’ve often kept to yourself. And after several rejected attempts at friendship, he’s learned to just observe from afar.

He knows from experience that observing allows you deep insight into people, and so he knows after two semesters that you’re perhaps the most competitive out of the entire team, the most hungry for a win. This drive, he suspects, comes from a deeply rooted desire to prove yourself, though he’s unsure why. What else do you have to prove? You have everything, as far as he’s concerned. Keenly intelligent, beautiful, with a circle of friends that adore you. You aren’t like him, who has to sink his claws deep into this debate team in order to get a dose of social interaction. No, you have a life, no matter how marblesque you may seem.

And yet, somehow it’s still not enough for you.

He thinks it’s utterly ridiculous, and absolutely fascinating.

The weekend of nationals is taxing. You’ve been fighting for the opener role since the semis, but it would require too much adjustment, which no one is willing to risk so close to nationals. Not only does he not want to give up his spot, he also knows how ruthless you can be as a rebuttal speaker. He's meek, and you have a tendency to be aggressive, it's why the original roles go so well.

Your adviser agreed, and there’s been tension ever since.

To make matters worse, hotel arrangements somehow have placed both of you in the same room. The force of your resentment is palpable even to a normally clueless guy like him. Distracting. Pages being turned in your exaggerated annoyance. He’d complain of dramatics, but he doesn’t want to start anything.

The fact that you’re rooming together also doesn’t help him. Sure, there are different beds, small twin mattresses on either side of the room, but still. Proximity to a woman his age has him anxious for reasons entirely unrelated to nationals.

So when you lose the championship, his concern for your reaction behind doors overwhelms the regret of losing.

No one is happy with the results. It is obvious from the set of his jaw, the tenseness of your shoulders. Spencer tries to calm down, accept defeat with a modicum of grace, at least in front of other people. He can tell the rest of the team is trying too, but quite unconvincingly. Onstage, accepting the medals for second place—mockingly silver, and no trophies—the team’s smiles are forced, plastic.

Back to the hotel rooms are a different story. When you slam the hotel door shut, it echoes down the hall and makes even your debate adviser flinch. It would have made Spencer flinch too, if he hadn't already expected it. He's grown accustomed to how bad of a loser you can be. Like a tornado, your anger spares no one from its destruction. It is in these moments that your stoic resolve crumbles, no longer unfeeling, but rather fully human. Hurtful. Ruthless Unfortunately for him, he's directly in your line of fire.

He catches bits and pieces of your muttered diatribes. He’s used to those too. Normally, he would have ignored them. Losing sucks the energy out of a person, regardless of how uncompetitive he is. Besides, your ranting is mostly harmless, until one sentence snags his attention.

“— knew I should have been the opening speaker —”

He is clawing at his tie, trying desperately to get it off, but the words make him stop immediately. He whirls around, brows furrowed, “What?”

You pause as well, “What?”

“What did you say about being the opening speaker?” He watches you roll your eyes. It does nothing to calm the bitterness in the back of his throat. The normal song and dance goes like this: he’d say a string of words in an attempt to soothe the fire burning in your nerves, and you'd say something so vitriolic he'd refuse to speak to you for the rest of your time together.

But today, having just lost the biggest championship after working so hard, he's a short fuse and your words are incendiary.

“I said I should have done it, like I asked—”

“Ah, as usual, you're mad that you didn't get what you wanted.”

An offended scoff. He's almost proud he managed to pull that out of you. “You take too long—”

“Nationals isn't the time to suddenly alter the roles,” he tells you, shaking his head. He manages to loosen the tie, finally, tossing it on his bed with so much aggression it misses the mattress and lands limply on the floor, “I've always been the opening speaker.”

“Yes, and one would think that after going through so many debate competitions, you would learn to be more succinct,” you snap, shoes making harsh clacks against the tiled floor, “The goal isn't to let us know you're the smartest person in the room, Spencer, it's to set up the tone and groundwork of—”

“I don't need you to lecture me about being the opening,” he interrupts, “I know what my role requires of me.”

“Do you?” Eyes flashing, you walk to him until you're almost chest to chest, “Because we still lost.”

“And you blaming me?” he hisses, leaning down. He hates doing this, stooping to your level of pettiness. Normally, he would choose to be the bigger person, refusing your verbal sparring; he likes to focus his energy on the actual debate, the opposing team, not his own teammates. But your words cut deeper than normal; it isn't the fault the team lost, that's just a flat out lie, “We advised you multiple times to memorize the statistics—”

“Something you're better at!” You look physically pained to admit his superiority, but the words spill anyway, “You'd be so much better to do the rebuttals since you have your stupid photographic memory, and I can set the tone better, but nobody on this little boys club ever listens to me!”

He's surprised at the choked tone your voice has taken. In his mind, you're a complete equal—you made it to the team through hard work and impeccable skills, like the rest of them did, after all. It didn't matter that you are a woman to him, so of course his instinct is to deny. “That’s not true.” but even his voice sounds weak.

How would he know if it’s not true? He’s never been in your shoes before, never had to reckon with what comes with being the only woman in a team of men.

“Isn’t it?” he flinches at the venom in your voice, “You all act like I'm an afterthought—I get the shittiest positions even when I know I can be more effective in a different one, no one ever asks me for strategy, hell, you never invite me to your stupid chess games.”

His mouth opens and closes foolishly, latching on to the one thing he has a full response to, “I thought you hate chess.”

A sharp laugh, petulant and bitter, “I do, but it would have been nice to be included.”

He doesn’t know what to say. You’ve turned around, yanking off your pristine maroon blazer so roughly he’s afraid it might rip. The silence that grows makes him itch, hands balling into fists as he tries to think of what to do. Social dynamics have always been a thing of mystery to him.

He wonders if he is part of this problem. He’s no stranger to feeling different and on the outs, and it pains him to think that he inadvertently caused someone else to feel that same, unpleasant exclusion.

But, no. Quickly, he recalls every single time he’s tried to include you—a museum trip that you’d declined because you had a party you wanted to attend. His extra tickets to the Nutcracker.

“That’s not true,” his voice is firm now, following you until he’s standing right behind. Lavender hits his nose and his brain registers the scent of your shampoo. Definitely too close if he can smell that, but he refuses to back away, intent on getting his point across, “That’s not true, I’ve tried to— you were always too busy.”

“What, I’m a liar now?” you spin around, pretty features twisted to somehow express both anger and hurt. He almost falters. Almost.

But he’s too worked up, even though he knows he should back off, to not trivialize your experiences in order to defend himself. He should know better than this, but the sting of your accusation spurs him on. So he pushes, eyes narrowing, “Last year, September 14, 21, and 29, I invited you to come with us for several casual chess tournaments, you declined all invitations because you claimed you hated chess. October 29th, I told you about the new exhibit they were displaying—”

“It was Halloween weekend, I already had plans—”

“December 19th, I offered you Nutcracker tickets and you said you’d already seen it—”

“I have,” your voice has grown quiet now, and if he stops speaking for a single moment to look, your features have relaxed into something gentler. But he’s on a roll, and you have always been right about things; his inability to be succinct is one of them.

“Even this year, I invited you to study multiple times, but you’ve always had prior plans,” the words are spoken with neutrality. He isn’t even angry anymore, just eager to list everything down and let you know how hard he’s tried with you. Even after the numerous rejections, he’s made an effort, but of course, you have other friends, other plans outside your nerdy debate team. He’s never held that against you, but if you wanted to point fingers, he has the means to defend himself. And sure, he wants to prove you wrong on some level too, but that’s the lesser point. “Maybe if you stopped acting like you’re better than me, and just accepted, you wouldn’t be feeling so excluded.”

“I don’t act like I’m better than you.”

“You just said you would have made a better opening speaker.”

You scoff, “Oh my god, you’re infuriating, I can’t believe I’m stuck with you!”

Spencer bristles at that, “I’m giving you the facts, it’s not my fault you can’t handle them.” he says, leaning closer, trying to make her see his point, “You’re always so closed off and the other guys have just given up trying. Maybe if you—”

“What? If I smiled more? Acted less like a bitch?” you sneer, eyes narrowed dangerously, “I thought a genius like you would know better than to use misogynistic language like that.”

“Wha— no! Don’t put words in my mouth.” Spencer replies, shaking his head. The conversation is devolving into something dangerous, the air crackling with something electric. He assumes it’s anger. They will never get anywhere, so he sighs, softening slightly, “I never said that. I’m just pointing out that you weren’t blameless in this, you know?”

You’re silent. He watches you, takes in how the resentment in your eyes have been dulled by something more contemplative.

He continues, “Listen, I’m sorry if we’ve made you feel like you were on the outs. I’m sure we have to do so much reflection as a team and as individuals about how we treat each other, but it’s unfair to say that we never include you when I have actively been making efforts to—”

Your lips are upon him.

That’s inaccurate.

You are upon him, arms flung around his neck, body pressed flush against his. He feels the entire world tilt, and he’s unsure if it’s because you’re pulling him down or because your lips are so pillowy he’s instantly eager for more. Wants it like a man starved. Needs it, needs more, but his body betrays him. Whether it’s his inexperience or surprise or a combination of both. He freezes, blinking rapidly at the sight of you. Eyes shut, and face so close to him; so, so close he can count each individual eyelash, see the tiny freckle on your eyelid that gets hidden if your eyes are open.

And then you're gone. The freckle disappears as you look at him with wide eyed mortification.

“Shit, Spencer, I—”

It’s his lips that cut you off this time, seeking out the velvety warmth of your mouth. Your lips part under his, and he registers a sound, soft and whining. It takes him a moment to realize it came from him, from the back of his throat and muffled by your lips and tongue and oh you’re both falling.

Literally. He must have leaned too far into you; you’re suddenly collapsing, forcing him down because your arms have him in a vice grip and he’s too busy chasing after your lips. The next thing he knows is he’s on top of you and you’re sprawled on the bed beneath him. Time stands still; he’s painfully aware of how cliche that is, but every sense of eloquence seems to have been expelled from his brain as he takes you in; lips swollen and wet from his kisses, pupils blown wide. Every breath you take pushes your chest up against his, and he can feel your heart thrumming against his body.

“Well, that was one way of shutting you up,” you chuckle with a cockiness that makes his heart speed up, though it isn’t borne out of embarrassment. Every single physiological effect of your body is evidence that you’re enjoying this, telling him you’re just as worked up as he is. The breathiness in your voice, the quickness of your heartbeat.

The fact that you’re pulling him down again, legs hooking around his hips. He surrenders to it, lips meeting yours once again, deeper and more desperate this time.

He closes his eyes, relishing this, kissing you, touching you, an act he had believed is reserved for attractive jocks and charismatic art nerds. Not him, quiet and lanky, shifting to avoid his angular bones from digging into you, and to place himself more comfortably on the bed. Inexperienced, ungainly, and yet here he is, his tongue pushing into your mouth in his first forays into something that his peers have experienced years ago.

Spencer Reid isn’t used to being the one behind, doing the catching up. Child prodigy, genius, the words aren’t meaningless. He’s been ahead academically—which, up until this point, has been his whole life. But feeling warm lips beneath his own has him reconsidering some of his life choices.

The kiss is messy. Sloppy from his clumsy attempts to keep up with your eagerness. You’re tugging at something, and he realizes it’s to untuck the rest of the crisp shirt you’ve donned for the debate tournament out from your skirt. His hands settle on your waist, finding smooth, heated skin from where your shirt has ridden up. Careful fingers help push it up, burying under the fabric until his palms are mapping out the slopes of your body.

Soft. So damn soft.

Not cold marble after all. He theorizes you must be soft everywhere, and he decides to test it out with his lips, laving kisses along your jaw, down the sweet, musky skin of your neck where your perfume still lingers. Instincts take over and he allows himself a taste, tongue darting out. You shudder, so he does it again, greedy for your pretty moans and gasps.

He can’t help the smile that tugs at his lips, “Thought you were mad at me?” he mumbles, trailing his kisses down the column of your throat.

You’re all mhms and ohhhs right now, so far from the usual image you present to the world, a preppy, manicured woman who wrestles for control over everything. You must hate this, he thinks, being beneath him physically, caged within his arms which are deceptively strong for how fragile he looks.

“Shut up,” you grumble.

“Make me.” His grin is dopey when he lifts his head to meet her gaze.

Something brushes against his crotch, and now he’s the one gasping, jerking in surprise at the friction. You’ve slotted your thigh between his, and his traitorous body responds by grinding down on it shamelessly. The look on your face is smug, triumphant.

“Huh,” saccharine and mocking, you blink up at him innocently, “That was easier than I thought.”

His head drops to your neck again, but he isn’t kissing you anymore. Just open mouthed breathing as he rubs himself on your thigh, hands tightening on your sides, “Mhm.”

“Are you gonna come? Spencer, I haven’t even touched you yet.”

He sinks his teeth into your flesh to fight the needy whines because yes, he’s so embarrassingly close and you’re both still fully dressed. He hears a hiss, and he backs off immediately, murmuring apologies, “Didn’t mean to—”

“‘S okay,” you tilt your head back, give him more access to your neck, “Just don’t leave marks.”

Permission to bite. He gulps, heart beating wildly, before ducking back down. Chapped lips run over your neck, finding a soft spot to bite, forcing himself to soften the way his teeth sink into your skin. All the while rubbing himself on your thigh because it’s probably the closest thing to heaven a man such as him will ever experience.

He hears your laughter, your mocking cooes of, “You’re so fucking needy” but he can’t bring himself to care.

You’re correct, he decides, as you usually are. He’s needy, desperately so, eagerly chasing the delicious pleasure of dry humping your thigh.

“Hold on, Spencer.”

You push him back gently. A whine rips from his throat, “Mhm—why?”

He gets his answer soon enough. Your hands undo his belt and he swears this sets his whole body on fire. Nobody’s ever seen him like this. Never has another person touched him so intimately, seen him so out of control, so brainless. He’s babbling incoherently as your hand strokes up and down his length, his hips rutting into your hand. It’s out of sync. Two dancers on entirely different rhythms.

Your laughter rings in his ears, one hand tangled in his hair as the other does unspeakable, tantalizing things to his aching cock.

“Mhm, can’t— I’m gonna—” and he’s spilling into your hand, hot, viscous liquid overflowing from your hand and staining your skirt, “Ah, shit.”

He collapses against you, head on the crook of your shoulder as he tries to catch his breath. “‘M sorry, I’ll– I’ll pay for your dry cleaning.”

Your chest shakes as you laugh, “Would you? I think you owe me more than that.” The heat in your voice makes his breath catch in his throat.

Soft kisses press upon your neck as he gathers his thoughts, willing his brain to work again. Anatomy, female anatomy. Female pleasure. What does he know about this? A lot, surprisingly, though mostly from books. Mostly in theory, but that’s a start. He can put them to practice right now. His hands drag down your sides until they catch the waistband of your skirt. “May I?”

“Okay.”

He pulls gently, exposing the rest of your thighs and legs. Honey brown eyes devour the expanse of your skin, hands clutching at the softness. He marvels at the way your flesh accepts his own, bright red splotches imprinted from his fingertips.

He thinks of poetry, the uncountable amount of words and phrases written to immortalize women and love and sex, and he finds himself wishing he has the skill to compose something as beautiful, something worthy of you right now, radiant and half naked and somehow all his.

But he is no poet, so he touches his lips upon your body instead. Pretty words will escape him, but his lips can speak even without them, he’ll make sure of it. He kisses down your abdomen, making sure to pay attention to every hidden freckle and birthmark he comes across. Your reactions make him feel drunk, to the point of affecting him physically. Messier kisses. Hands tugging and nearly ripping the lace of your panties because he’s unaware of his own strength.

“So pretty,” he mumbles, “So pretty.” It’s all he can repeat, but then his tongue lands on your slick heat and suddenly words are forgotten in favor of vague groaning. Because how can he accurately describe the sensation of this? Tasting you. God how has he gone so long without this? Your nails scraping his scalp, his fingers sinking into your thighs as he keeps you still. He’s halfway off the bed, legs dangling off the edge, your thighs squeezing his face.

There’s nowhere else he would rather be.

He laps at your folds like a mad man, tongue pressed flat and dragging up slowly to get as much of you in his mouth as possible. His feet find the floor, allowing himself more stability to once again rub his growing erection against a solid object. The poor mattress is going to be ruined once they’re done.

“Faster,” you gasp, jerking your hips into his face, “Spencer— oh, yeah like that!”

Spencer Reid is a quick study, and when he hears the positive reactions, he doubles down until he feels you convulse against his tongue. You jerk so violently he has to hold you down. He pushes his tongue past your entrance experimentally, and feels you tug roughly on his hair in response, gasping his name and God’s name in slurred phrases as you ride out your high.

It’s the hottest damn thing he’s ever experienced.

“Jesus Christ,” you gasp, and he has to repeat that ridiculous sentence again, because it’s true and he feels you deserve it.

“You’re so pretty.” He fears you might be some kind of magnet, because his lips keep getting drawn back to your skin. He lets his kisses travel up your hip bone, before grinning up at you, “Even when you’re being insufferable, you’re still so beautiful.”

“Gee thanks,” you huff, pulling at his arm, “How romantic, I’m swooning.”

“Might not be swooning, but you did just come on my face.” brilliant rows of teeth flash at you as he smiles smugly.

“Asshole.”

“Is that how you say thank you?” he drags his body up lazily, draping himself over you.

“I’m not— wait, are you hard again?”

“Uh…”

“Needy, needy boy.” you pull him down to you, and he almost protests, his chin and mouth still covered with your slick. But you don’t seem to care, so he follows your lead, God at this point he would follow you anywhere at all. You’re shifting beneath him, and the next thing he knows is your legs are wrapped around his waist again, your heat completely exposed and pressing against his cock.

“Mhm,” he pulls back, eyes wide, “I—”

“What?” you whisper, lifting your head to continue giving him kisses, teeth playfully nipping at his jaw, “It’s fine, I’m on birth control.”

“It’s not that,” he can’t deny you, his body relaxing back down over you. His lips catch yours for a moment, slow and achingly tender, “I’ve just never really done this before.”

He waits for the inevitable laughter. Here he is, at 21, and somehow still the same person he had been when he first entered college at 14. But you continue to look at him with heavy lids, breathless and flushed.

“Okay,” your voice is kind, sweet, “Take it slow then.” your hand wraps around his length again, the movement slower this time, as you align him to your entrance. He hisses as the sensitive tip grazes against your folds, as he feels your entrance slowly give way to him and envelop his cock.

“Oh,” he sighs. With your help, he sinks halfway into you, one hand gripping your hip, the other bracing himself on his elbow. Eyes squeezed shut, he stills and manages to ask, “Are you okay?”

You don’t speak, and so he forces his eyes to focus and look at you. The sight has him twitching inside you. Mouth agape and eyes hazy, you’re nodding up at him wordlessly as your hips rock up into his. “More.”

It’s exhilarating. He’s known you for the past year, worked alongside you but respected your need for distance. And now, here you are, not merely close, but one. Spencer sighs, and thrusts shallowly, eyes zeroed in on you and your reactions. He doesn’t want to hurt you, doesn’t want it to end too soon, so he moves slowly, dragging out his cock until only the tip rests inside you, then sliding into the hilt.

It elicits the most mellifluous sounds from you, making him smile in relief. He lets his forehead rest against yours, thrusts growing more confident, but still in that slow, almost dreamy pace. He memorizes every detail of this moment, from the way your eyes flutter closed, to the quiver of your legs as they wrap tighter around his thighs.

“So good,” he hears himself say, “God, you feel so good.”

“Mhm,” you nod, nails digging into his back, even through his clothes. In the heat of the moment, you’re both still half dressed, only getting rid of your bottom clothes in order to get what you need from each other, “More, Spencer, I need more.”

He nods, letting his thrusts grow faster, rougher. It’s an awkward angle, he’s afraid his knees will start cramping, but the feeling of being surrounded by your warmth, drowning in your moans has him reckless. “There?” he grunts, angling just so, and he can’t help the smirk on his face when he feels your walls clenching around him.

“There, there, yes!”

He’s not sure how he manages to last as long as he does. Maybe it’s the sheer desire to feel you fall apart, for his cock to be drenched in your slick that keeps his release at bay. Maybe he has too much pent up sexual energy that’s just been dying to come out. Whatever it is, he’s thankful for it, because it means he’s spending more time inside you, hips moving with so much impact he’s pushing you forward with each thrust.

“Yes, just like that.” you’re shuddering beneath him, and he moves his arm to the top of your head, creating a barrier between you and the headboard so you don’t hit it. He could stop, readjust your positions, but he doesn’t have it in him.

No, he wants to stay inside you, forever if there’s an anatomically feasible way to do it. But unless he invents it, he’ll settle for right now, settle for the heat between your bodies, and how you’re practically melting into the mattress, arching so prettily against him.

“You close?” he murmurs, one hand finding your clit, drawing gentle circles with his fingertips.

“No fair,” you whine, bucking into him, “That’s cheat— Spencer!”

You come undone in the most enthralling way, eyes squeezed shut, bottom lip bitten by your own lips. You squeeze and flutter around him, and he’s helpless to stop his own release, spilling deep inside you with a broken cry from his own mouth. Your name is whispered, over and over again, until he stills, his vision blurry as he collapses against you.

He curls around you, trying to get as close, “You—that was—wow.”

You giggle, still breathless and glassy eyed, “Are you sure that was your first time?”

“Yes,” he gives you a series of kisses along your temple, “Yes, it was. You—wow.” he carefully pulls out of you, hissing quietly when the cool air conditioned air hits his sensitive flesh. “Was that enough of an apology for not including you to our chess nights?”

“You’re making jokes now?”

“No,” he smiles, leaning away to look at you, all starry eyed and boneless, “Not a joke. Because if it’s not enough, I can do it again.” a kiss to your cheek, “And again.” one on the tip of your nose, “And again.”

When you laugh in response, he cups your cheek, “I mean it.” he says with all the seriousness he can muster.

“I’ll hold you to that.”

“Does this mean you’ll accept my invitations now?” he lights up, a large smile splitting his face.

“Only if it’s a date.”

"Then it's a date."

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid smut #spencer reid x reader smut #criminal minds fan fiction #criminal minds x you #waldorf!reader #spencer reid fanfic #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid criminal minds #dr spencer reid

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sapphicprentiss · 3 days ago

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sapphicprentiss's Five Favorite Criminal Minds Season 6 Episodes

6x04: Compromising Positions

@hotch-girl @catgirlspence @demonicbaby666 @neve-gallus-girl-detective @lover-of-books-and-tea @j3nniferjareauswife @nicolacoughlanbigod @mmmmmkay77 @lovelyy-moonlight @moonlight-breeze-44 @jackiebuckley @buckleyhans @unitchiefwives @babygirl-garcia @garciailoveyou @ry-kills-jemily @lol-lynn @inlovewithjemily @chaoticdragonrage @paulitalblond @blownawcy @eveljerome @charleyspiderman @lesbiansguidetoanangryinch

#criminal minds #emily prentiss #penelope garcia #derek morgan #spencer reid #sapphicprentissfavoritecmepisodes #sapphicprentissgifs #david rossi #demily #penelope garcia gif #emily prentiss gif #demily gif #criminal minds gif #bau #psd gif #dr spencer reid #criminal minds season 6

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reidgif · 3 days ago

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#spencer reid #sp14 #sp142 #*

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reidfilmss · 3 days ago

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yesss 🙇🏼‍♀️

i need to lick your neck i think

#criminal minds #spencer reid #i love mgg #mgg #i need him #he’s so sexy #just one chance #68 kill #chip taylor

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kiwriteswords · 1 day ago

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Weekend Mode.

#criminal minds #aaron hotchner #spencer reid #emily prentiss #jennifer jareau #penelope garcia #derek morgan #criminal minds gifs #criminal minds edits #my edits #my gifs #cm #criminalminds #weekend

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babymetaldoll · 3 days ago

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Are you mine? - Chapter nineteen: "Date night"

Summary: It's Spencer and (Y/N)'s last day at work, but before they can retire and live happily ever after, there is one last psycho they have to catch.

Warnings: A lot of curses and angst, some funny comebacks and most of all, spoilers of season 15 E6.

Word count: 12.240

A/N: I never liked Max. I'm not even sorry she wasn't a part of this story. Spencer deserved better than a character written just to give him the hint of a love interest that was never heard of again.

Series' Masterlist - Author's masterlist

Previous chapter | Next chapter

Spencer’s point of view

And all that happened to us in the last few years led us here. Today is our last working day at the BAU. (Y/N) and I step out of our car and head to the elevator in silence. You think you won’t miss it, but I know I will feel melancholic about all this in a few years. However, we both had enough. We are glad to finally be gone.

Prentiss understood our reasons for leaving the team. However, it hadn’t been an easy conversation. We all shed a few tears when we sat with her in her office and announced our decision.

- “I can’t say I’m shocked”- Emily said and paused for a second to rearrange her thoughts after we delivered the news.- “After everything you two have been through… a part of me knew it was a matter of time. But at the same time, I don’t think I can imagine this place without you two. You are part of this family.”

- “And we will always be. But there is another family, with tiny babies, that needs us now.”- my wife added and wiped the tears from her cheeks.- “This wasn’t an easy decision for us, but we won't change our minds.”

- “I know you won’t. It’s a shame for the team, but I am glad for you two. You deserve a new start.”

- “Thank you, Em.”- I nodded at her words and sighed, relieved.

- “And what’s the plan now?”

- “We were offered full-time positions in Georgetown.”- you could hear the happiness in my reply.- “I’ll be with the Research Department and (Y/N) will be teaching two courses during the next semester.”

- “Wow!”- Prentiss was surprised and the tone in her voice betrayed her.- “Sounds exactly like what you two should be doing.”

- “I’m sorry Em, are you mad at us?”- my wife asked directly.- “I know this isn’t what you want to hear, but you said you were happy for us and yet you sound disappointed.”

- “No, no, (Y/N). I’m really happy for you, it’s just that… I have to ask you this.”- of course, she would address the pink elephant in the room.- “Is it all this because of JJ’s confession back in Los Angeles?”

The silence in that room was so awkward and deep, that nothing could break it. I could deny it, of course, but it felt useless. But before I could reply, (Y/N) did.

- “That was the last straw, I’m not gonna lie.”- my wife replied and stared at Emily straight in the eyes, showing her she was telling the truth with no hesitation.- “But we weren’t happy before that… incident. We had considered leaving a few times before, after JJ’s confession it was clear we couldn’t delay our departure any longer.”

I moved my hand and reached hers, holding it on her lap.

- “If that hadn’t happened, we would have left anyway.”- I confirmed.- “This conversation was going to happen, no matter what.”

- “I understand, and I’m sorry.”- Emily whispered.- “I know the last few months haven’t been comfortable to deal for both of you”

- “It’s not your fault.”- I replied.- “And, like (Y/N) said, we are not leaving because of her. It’s… everything. Our time here is done. And now we have to start a new stage for our family. One where we can assure our kids we will be home every night for dinner, and that we won’t miss any important date.”

Emily walked to us as we both stood up. My wife hugged her first, with tears on her face.

- “Just promise you’ll still be around.”- Prentiss asked.

- “You don’t get rid of us, I swear”- (Y/N) replied and chuckled.- “You might not be our boss for much longer, but we are family forever.”

That was a month ago, and today, my wife and I are walking into the bullpen holding hands for one last time.

- “Ok, this is not what I was expecting.”- (Y/N) whispers looking around.- “It’s not like I was waiting for a party or something, but… everything is just so normal.”- and I chuckle at her words.

- “It’s eight in the morning, chipmunk. People have to work.”- I joke and leave my bag on my desk just the minute Emily’s voice calls our name from outside the conference room.

- “Now we are talking”- (Y/N) says and quickly heads to the stairs.- “I’m sure Pen baked us some cupcakes for our last day’s breakfast.”

- “Maybe even a cake”- I tease her. But as soon as we notice Emily’s serious face, we realize something bad is happening. Rossi is there as well, staring at us with an apologetic look.

- “What happened?”- I ask right away and Prentiss turns on the tv.

- “Early this morning, Garcia got an email from an anonymous server”- and just like that, the image of two people tied to a chair, clearly frightened, appeared on the screen. Right in the middle of them, the unsub, showing her face and holding a gun.

- “She is not obscuring her face, telling us she's got nothing to hide.”- Rossi adds. My wife crosses her arms on her chest staring at the screen before asking.

- “Any ideas on the victims or unsub?”

- “No. Only the unsub's demand.”- Emily pauses, grabs a case file, and gives it to me. - “That we release Catherine Adams in 24 hours.”

I stare at Prentiss and Rossi in shock for a moment. They can’t be serious. It’s our last day.

- “I'm having her transferred here for questioning, but we have no illusions.”- Em announces and my stomach drops at her words.- “This is just a game to her. We know that. The question is, do we want to play it or not?”

- “What do you mean if we want to play it?”- and that’s when (Y/N) reacts.- “We are leaving today. We don’t have time to play any random game with a serial killer.”

- “We know that, (Y/N). But you have to understand the lives of two innocent are at risk.”- Rossi immediately explains the obvious.- “And when it comes to Cat Adams, her only weakness is the man you call your husband. We need you two to crack this case as fast as possible.”

Dealing with Cat Adams is the last thing I want on my last day as an SSA. And yet, somehow, it makes sense that this happened today. It’s exactly why we are leaving.

- “I can’t believe this.”- (Y/N) whispers as she sits at her desk. I stay by her side and rest my hands on her shoulder. She is right, this is the worst way to finish my seventeen years of active service with the FBI.

- “At least we know it’s our last case.”- I caress her shoulder and my wife pouts in response.- “I know this is not how we thought it would be, but tonight we are going home to start our new life. Don’t forget that.”

- “Reid.”- Alvez walks over and both me and my wife look at him.- “Garcia was catching me up about the case. Who is Cat Adams?”

- “My nemesis.”- (Y/N) says and sighs.- “Another crazy psycho in love with Spencer.”

- “She is not in love with me.”- the way my wife turns to look at me raising an eyebrow in disbelief could be comical in another scenario. - “She is not!”- I add just to make sure I’ve made my point.

- “No? Are you sure? That bitch even tried to convince you she was pregnant with your kid.”

- “What?”- Luke is shocked.- “How did she even try to do that?”

- “Not important right now.”- I reply ‘cos I don’t wanna remember that moment. - “Cat Adams is a psychopath who is used to getting away with what she wants.”

- “And she wants you.”- my wife points at me and makes a pause the second JJ walks over to us along with Prentiss.- “I am so sick and tired of bitches trying to get my man…”

- “She is here.”- Emily announces and asks me to walk with her to the interrogation room to wait for Adams.

I hold my wife’s hand and kiss it sweetly as I look at her and try to make her feel secure and safe. I know how much (Y/N) hates Cat. I am not a fan myself, she kidnapped and tried to kill my mother. But I know my wife feels threatened by her in a way, and I don’t know why. I can not stop it either, I’ve tried. So I want her to understand nothing and no one is more important than her and our kids.

(Y/N) wraps her arms around me and I hold her tight against me.

- “Last day.”- I whisper as I rest my forehead against her and hear her hum.- “I’ll be right back.”

- “Take care.”- I kiss her lips and cut her a short smile before I follow Prentiss.

I know I’m not going to like this.

I wait for Adams in the interrogation room. Prentiss is on the other side of the glass, and I know my wife will be there in a second. I do my best to look relaxed, and only a tad annoyed when Adams is walked into the room, in chains. I am not going to let her know how angry she gets me. I will never give her that pleasure.

She is in a mask, which reminds me of Hannibal Lecter, from The Silence of the Lambs. It seems useless to put that on her. I don’t think she will try to eat me.

Her eyes are on me from the second she steps in until she is seated, and she even smiles for a second, pleased.

The guards leave and we both stay quiet for a moment. I stand there, staring at her, unimpressed. Just annoyed.

- “Classic negotiating technique.”- she says after a few seconds. - “The first one who speaks loses, right?”

I don’t move, hands in my pocket, unthreatened by her presence and actions. I just stand there and tell her what will happen.

- “You arranged the kidnapping of two people and you did it the same way you did it before, through a partner on the outside. But her demand, "release Cat Adams," that will never happen. So, tell me what you want right now before I send you back to prison.”

- “Oh! You don't know, do you?”- she looks surprised like I missed something important.- “I stopped fighting.

- “Fighting what?”- I look at the ceiling and sigh, already tired of the conversation.

- “The United States versus Catherine Adams.”- she announces and stares at me waiting for a reaction. She doesn’t get any.- “I had my lawyer plead guilty to all 73 counts. And request the death penalty.”

- “Oh, you've grown a conscience now? I don't think so.”- if she thinks I’m gonna feel sorry for her, she must be really crazy.

- “I'm bored, ok? Boooored.”- somehow, she looks sincere about it. - “Death has to be more interesting than this. But it is funny, you know, when you’re counting the days left, you really do ask yourself, "What didn't I do?" And the only thing I could come up with was…”- she makes a short pause and sighs, to finally turn and stare at me with a smile. - “You.”

- “You haven't done me?”- I ask calmly and take a few steps closer to the table, hands still in my pocket. - “And you think by kidnapping two people you are gonna get what you want?”

- “Do I ever get what I want with you?”- she stares at me as I just raise an eyebrow and wait for her to answer the question herself.- “Besides, your wife must be at the other side of the glass fighting the urges to kill me, and we don't have a lot of time.”

- “For what?”

- “I would like to go on a date. With you.”

I can say I’m surprised. I didn’t think she was this mental.

- “A date?”- I stare at her in disbelief and she smiles.

- “Yes. I want to look pretty. And I want to have fun! And I won't even get physical, ok? Unless you want me to.”

I finally sit in front of her and lean in on the table.

- “Come here.”- I say and lean even more- “Closer.”- she moves and stares into my eyes the entire time, something that might have been incredibly intimidating for me a few years ago. But today, as my last day in the BAU, Cat Adams is not a threat.

- “The only date that I'll be there for is the one where they stick a needle in your vein.”- I whisper and she just stares at me, smiling, looking from my eyes to my lips as I lean back and keep my annoyed facade.

- “You're gonna let a father and daughter die? I don't think so.”- and just like that, she makes her first mistake.

- “I never said father and daughter. You're already slipping. We'll find them. We always do.”- I stand up, annoyed by the conversation and ready to share my intel with the team.

- “Not tonight. Tonight I win.”- she announces from her chair. I stay still for a second, taking a deep breath before I turn and reply with a serious voice.

- “The score between me and you is two to zero. By tomorrow morning, it'll be a clean sweep. Enjoy eternal nothingness. It's a metaphor for your life.”

I turn around and open the door. Before I close it behind my back, I hear her saying “Nice to see you, too, Spencie.” and it takes everything in me not to slam that door on my way out.

Cat Adams kidnapped a father and a daughter just to go out on a date with me? She has to be crazy if she thinks she can get away with it! She is ruining our last day of work torturing two people just for a pity whim. I hate that woman in ways I could never explain. And to think this was supposed to be the best day for me and my wife.

My poor wife. She must be even angrier than I am.

I walk into an empty interrogation office and take off my tie in a poor attempt to calm the sudden anger that fills my body. I don’t wanna deal with this, I just wanna leave. I don’t wanna be targeted by a psychotic narcissist again. Again! I just wanna make my wife happy, and give her the life she deserves. That we both deserve after all these years. And this bitch comes and ruins everything!

I lose it for a second and smash everything that’s upon a small piece of furniture. Lamps, books, whatever was on it gets trashed against the floor in a second.

- “I was gonna ask if you were ok, but I can see you are not.”- (Y/N) whispers from the door as she stares at me. Anyone else would be shocked to see me act that way. I don’t think anyone has ever seen me lose it physically. She, instead, just opens her arms and takes a few steps closer, as I rest my body against hers and feel her embracing me completely.

- “You don’t have to go out with her.”- she whispers sweetly.

- “I wanna kill her.”- I confess and bury my face in her neck, ashamed of my own anger.

- “Not if I kill her first.”- she replies immediately, and I can hear the smile in her voice.

- “I’m not joking.”

- “We are both carrying guns, hon. And we both have enough motives. I know we are not joking.”- (Y/N) answers and moves her hands until she is holding my face, staring into my eyes with so much love and care, that I could melt. - “That bitch tried to kill your mom and managed to torture us and our family. She won’t get what she wants.”

- “She wants to…”- but she shakes her head before I can finish talking.

- “She wants you. I will never let her have you.”

- “I don’t want her. I just want you. Forever.”- I whisper and kiss her lips as soon as I’m done speaking.

(Y/N)’s point of view

I never really imagined my last day at work could be in the top ten of my worst days at the BAU. But it’s quickly getting to the hot top five. If I didn’t want to deal with JJ anymore, now I have to deal with her and Cat Adams at the same freaking time. I know, I am a grown almost forty-year-old FBI SSA who should act like an adult at this point. But I am tired. Exhausted. I just wanna go home with my husband and raise our kids. Is that too much to ask?

Spencer and I sit at the conference room’s table as the team debates what’s going on. A part of me is still in the car with Spencer, going over the last fifteen years we’ve spent together in the FBI. Reliving the memories and talking about our favorite moments. Not here, discussing what to do with Cat Adams. Of all people, why did it have to be Cat Adams?

- “Victimology's off.”- Spencer says and Prentiss questions him right away.- “Father and daughter. She's never done that before.”

- “Yes, she usually kills men that remind her of her father. Children, even adult children, are off limits.”- Tara adds in support. - “Do we have an I.D. yet?”

- “No.”- Pen replies immediately, and you can read the angst all over her face.- “No one's even reported these two as missing. You'd think a wife, a mom, someone would notice.”

- “What do we know about the partner who was helping her?”- Rossi asks. Yet, none of that is what really bothers me.

- “It's got to be someone from her prison. She hasn't had contact with anyone else.”- Simmons replies.- “We can start with known associates who were recently released.”

- “Ok, can I tell you what's bugging me?”- JJ asks and I don’t bite my tongue in time. I can see everyone’s face changing as I say:

- “The fact an unsub has more chances of going out on a date with Spencer than you do?”

- “(Y/N)!”- Emily widened her eyes, shocked by my words.

- “Sorry, but I already quit. This is just a bonus.”- I reply with an evil grin, enjoying making my ex-friend uncomfortable. She deserves it, no doubt.

- “It’s the fact every time we've gone up against Cat, there's the presenting agenda and the hidden one.”- JJ just keeps talking, ignoring my words.

- “We know that”- I add, in a clearly annoyed tone of voice.- “This woman has always been a few steps ahead. That’s her modus operandi. We have to figure it out before we make any decision.”

- “Well, if she sticks to the pattern, this isn't just about going on a date with Spence.”- JJ looks at me as she speaks, so mad I could laugh. Who the hell does she think she is to even try to look angry at me. She should be glad I haven’t hurt her. Bitch.

- “Right now, she's a fixed variable.”- Prentiss replies.- “We need to focus on identifying the unsub and her victims.”

Spencer and I stand outside the interrogation room as Prentiss talks with Cat one more time. Neither of us says a word for a few minutes, but he still holds my hand tight and keeps me close to him.

- “You shouldn’t be so aggressive with JJ.”- I hear him whisper and I just stare at him, clearly annoyed. I don’t understand why he would say such a thing if he knows that woman triggers me each time she stands too close to him.

- “Right. Why is that?”

- “She is your friend.”- he has to be kidding.

- “She was.”- I correct him quickly- “You know she lost my friendship the day she said she loved you.”

- “I don’t like her that way. Why do you wanna hold a grudge against her?”

- “Because I always knew she had feelings for you. Ever since I started liking you.”- I sigh and turn to him. He looks so tired and defeated by the situation, I don’t think I wanna have this conversation right now. - “Fine, I won’t be a bitch with her until we solve this case.”

- “Thank you…”

- “I’m not happy about this being about Cat either.”

- “It’s not my ideal last case either…”

Our conversation ends because Prentiss walks out of the interrogation room and stares at us, clearly frustrated and most of all, annoyed.

- “So, what does the princess of madness want?”- the words come out filled with bitterness as I stare at my friend. She bites her lips before she tells us:

- “She wants to go ice skating, so she can skate circles around Spence. She is wasting our time.”

- “Bitch is mental.”- I whisper and look at her, alone in that room. In no scenario that psycho can or will go out on a date with my husband. Again…

- “Ok, something weird happened, but it could be a lead.”- Garcia shows up and looks at us in honest concern.- “I just got a bazillion voicemail messages, all from the same address on Fourth Street.”

I drive with Alvez and Lewis to the address Garcia gives us. I need a moment away from Cat Adams because I’m starting to believe she will somehow get away with it today, and she will go out on a date with Spencer. I don’t think I could deal with that.

- “Are you ok back there?”- Luke asks as he parks outside the house.

- “Yeah. I just need a little more coffee.”

- “Sure babe.”- Lewis raises an eyebrow and shakes her head.- “Lying to profilers, are you sure you wanna do that?”

- “Just keep me away from Cat so I leave today without killing any more people.”

- “Yes ma'am.”- Luke got out of the car but Tara stayed a few more minutes with me.

- “Reid, keep your eyes on the goal. It’s your last day on the team, don’t let Cat Adams ruin it for you.”

- “I keep telling myself that, but it’s hard when all she demands is a date with your husband.”- I simply confess ‘cos it’s not like it’s a secret.

- “We are gonna find this family and Cat is gonna go back to her cell, and most importantly, you are gonna go home with Spencer tonight and start the rest of your life together. Nothing will change that, ok? So don’t let any bitch get into your mind. Ok?”

I hold my friend’s hand and nod. Sometimes, all you need is a little empowerment from a friend to kick ass.

The whole street is filled with wanted posters looking for Susan. Yes, like the 80s movie. It’s breadcrumbs and it means to follow Cat’s game, but if we want to find that family, we’ll have to find who that Susan is.

When we get back to the BAU, the team has news: they know who Cat’s sidekick is. It was her old cellmate, Juliette Weaver, freed only six months ago. They had a lot in common, other than sharing cells and being besties, both their dads had killed their mothers. And we all know what trauma bonding does to psychopaths. It encourages them to do even crazier shit.

Matt says Susan is no other than Cat’s mother, and this is when I know she is not playing. We are about to go straight into her trap. But we have nothing else. As always, she is five steps ahead.

- “You are gonna have to go out with her.”- I whisper as I walk with Spencer to the interrogatory room one more time. He just shakes his head and holds my hand.

- “The only date I have tonight is with you and our bed after we solve this case and go home.”

- “She will only make a mistake if she is alone with you. If you go out with her and go fucking ice skating or whatever it is that she wants to do, we’ll get a chance to find that family.”- I hate saying this, but it’s the truth.

- “Chipmunk, I’ll try to talk to her one more time. If this doesn’t work, we’ll find another way.”

- “There’s not enough time.”- I whisper and sigh.- “I just don’t want her to get what she wants.”

- “She would never.”- Spencer stops walking and stares at me.- “I love you.”

- “I love you too.”

His arms wrap around me and keep me close to him for a few seconds. I feel his lips on the top of my head and I just sigh. Is it bad that I just wanna call him mine and only mine? No one can have him. He is my husband, the father of my kids… I am being obsessive and possessive, but can you blame me? Bitches keep falling for him and trying to steal him from me.

Spencer’s point of view

I am tired. Frustrated. Angry. I just wanna get this over with and go home. Instead, I have to talk to Cat Adams one more time.

- “Somehow you did it.”- I walk to her and she just sits by the table, not even looking at me, she just stares at the wall, looking like she is bored out of her mind.

- “You found what I couldn't. You found your father and you must have been furious when you discovered that he started over. Had another daughter. And that is why you deviated from your usual victimology. It wasn't enough to just hurt him. You had to hurt her, too.”

I finish my speech and crouch down by her side. And she just ignores every single word. Until she finally looks at me and asks.

- “When are we going ice skating?”

- “We're not going ice skating. You know, we've been asking ourselves this whole time what your hidden agenda was, but you tipped it when you said that you were gonna win tonight. Even if I let you out of here, you'll still kill them.”

I keep my eyes on her the entire time I talk, but she shows no emotion, no remorse. Nothing. She just stares back at me and pouts.

- “So, no ice skating?”

- “No ice skating.”

As I stand up and walk to the door, she says one more thing. One that gets me in a worse mode ‘cause of course she still has more surprises.

- “You should tell Garcia to check her email.”

Garcia has a video of Cat’s sidekick, Juliette, firing blanks at the father, right in front of his daughter. We all watch it and Emily ends up saying what my wife had suggested a few hours ago. That I should go out on a date with Cat and wait until she trips. ‘Cause apparently she always trips up with me.

- “Absolutely no.”- I stare at Rossi and Prentiss ‘cause I can’t understand why they are suggesting this.- “There is no way I am doing this.”

- “If we give Cat what she wants, we can profile what she says on the date. She always trips up. She always reveals her Achilles heel.”- Emily says as she looks me right in the eyes, trying to convince me.

- “And she always does it with you.”- Rossi adds. I feel my wife holding my hand and I turn to look at her.

- “I told you so.”- she whispers.

- “I don’t want to go.”- I reply in a soft voice.

- “We are gonna be three steps ahead of her this time.”- (Y/N) assures me and cuts me a short smile.- “Or I’ll kill her. Whatever happens first.”

It takes Cat an hour to get ready for our “date.” Meanwhile, I prepare every detail with the team and Emily convinces (Y/N) not to go with us, instead, Luke will tag along.

- “Why do you think I will let my husband go out with a serial killer alone?”- my wife asks, raising an eyebrow.

- “(Y/N), if you go, Cat will be mad and it might probably ruin the entire thing.”- Prentiss replies and tries to calm her down.- “Luke will be there the entire time, and we’ll…”

- “No! Last time she was on a date with him, he ended up being kidnapped.”

- “I was not kidnapped.”- I argue, though she is somehow right.

- “You were kept against your will at gunpoint at a table playing a sick game in a restaurant that had a bomb. How do you call that? Game night?”- (Y/N) looks at me, annoyed. Why is it that I find it sweet that she gets jealous and worried? I can’t tell her that now ‘cause she is clearly angry. But she looks adorable right now. Maybe there’s something wrong with me.

- “Nothing bad will happen, chipmunk.”- I whisper and kiss the tip of her nose.- “I’ll always come back home to you.”

- “She is ready. Let’s go.”- Tara announces from the door, so I take a deep breath and get ready to pick up my date.

We walk to the elevator outside the bullpen. The entire floor is filled with agents and high-security cops. Cat holds my arm as we walk and I just look straight ahead, trying not to acknowledge her. But I know she is smiling, enjoying her moment of triumph.

I can see my wife, arms crossed against her chest, standing along with the rest of the team. I just look at her as I walk past her and try to tell her how much I love her, that I’ll be back soon, and that I love her more than my own life. She looks at me for a moment and then stares at Cat with pure hate. I might need to make it up to her for this whole thing.

Luke and a SWAT team are waiting for us in the elevator. I really don’t wanna do this and I hate the fact there is no other way.

- “Don’t wait up!”- Cat says with a cheeky smile and somehow I know she is staring at my wife, probably ‘cause fire and knives are coming from her eyes as she stares at us. I wish I could tell her how sorry I am to put her through this whole thing. Now the door is closed and I’m on a date with Cat Adams.

In my head, I list all the things I’m gonna do tomorrow on my first day outside the BAU. I’m gonna make my wife breakfast in bed, then I’m gonna take her and the kids out for lunch, maybe we could go to the zoo or to the library.

- “I can’t believe this is actually happening.”- Cat’s voice takes me from my head and forces me back into reality. I’m in the back of a SWAT van with two officials. I try to stay focused on the plan and ignore her completely. Of course, she just keeps talking.

- “What ice skating rink are we going to?”- still no answer.- “Spencie.”

- “Don't call me that.”- I give her a stern look and then look away.

- “God, your parents are so strict.”- she jokes and looks at the officials.

I hate every second of this.

- “This isn't what I wanted.”- Cat’s tantrum starts the second we get off the van and she realizes this is a roller skating rink, not ice skating. As expected.

- “It's the best I could do.”- I reply and place my hands in my pockets. I did, in fact, nothing for this date.

- “It's not what I want.”

- “Skating is skating. What does it matter?”

- “It matters because if I asked to hang out with a bunch of sixth graders, I would have asked to come here, but I didn't, did I?”

- “We put in the request, Cat, and the answer was no.”- I explain once.

- “Why?”

- “Because we can't risk giving you access to a bladed tool.”- I explain twice, and I’m losing my patience.

- “What? I'm gonna use an ice skate to slice your neck open? Grow up”- two guns clock behind her and she doesn't even bother- “Relax.”

- “It's out of my hands. It's either this or nothing.”

- “Then nothing.”- she replies defiantly.

- “Fine.”- I say and shrug.

- “Fine.”

- “Get back in the van.”- I command.

- “I will.”

- “Had something special planned for our anniversary but whatever, forget it.”

I delivered that line as casually as possible, trying to make it sound like I was sorry she was gonna miss my surprise. When my wife said this time we were going to be three steps ahead of her, she wasn’t lying. She realized we had met Cat this month a few years ago, making it technically our anniversary.

- “You remembered?”- and it worked, ‘cause Cat turns to me surprised.

- “Of course, I remembered, but this date is over, so, let's get back in the van.”- I try to help her inside the van, but she is very curious.

- “No, no, no, no. I want to see it. Come on. I want to see it.”

- “Give me something.”- I demand immediately.

- “No.”

- “Yes. Give me something to help find your dad and half-sister.”- I insist, staring at her and trying not to look as annoyed and tired as I am.

- “Twenty-three.”

- “That's nothing. Give me something better.”- I demand, knowing the team is listening.

- “You're smart. You'll figure it out.”- she pauses, not moving from her spot, and then repeats.- “Let's go. I want to see it. Let's go.”

And so, we start walking. I sigh and most nonchalantly, I reach out for her hand, just like my wife suggested. I can't believe she asked me to do this.

- “Hold my hand. It's dark inside.”

- “You know we just had our first fight, right?”- there’s some pride in that sentence. She wants us to act like we are a couple, ‘cause maybe in her head, we already are. I wanna be done with this.

As soon as we step inside, Cat starts complaining again.

- “God, it smells so gross in here. That's why I hate roller rinks.”- but I just ignore her.

- “Luke, can you hear me?”- I say and look up at the DJ booth.

- “Loud and clear.”- he replies in the speaker. The whole room fills with his voice. I’m glad I am not alone.

- “Light it up.”

- “Got it.”

The entire room lights up, some random song I didn’t pick starts playing, and a massive sigh lightens and you can read “Spencie and Cat Forever.”

- “Spencie”- Cat seems to be impressed, even delighted and touched by my gesture. I try not to smile pleased, thinking my wife’s idea is working. I married the most brilliant woman in the world.

- “I'm a size 7 skate.”

This is a bad moment to face the fact I can’t skate. I failed with the skateboard every time Frank and Mikey tried to teach me, but that was probably ‘cause we always tried to do it when we were drunk. And right now, I am failing with the skates. Cat is enjoying her moment, sliding from one corner to the other with elegance and ease. Meanwhile, I am struggling to stand and move forward without smashing my face on the ground.

- “What's up?”- she asks as she shows up next to me- “Can you skate backward?”

- “I can barely skate forward.”- I confess ‘cause you can see the struggle I’m in.

- “Really? Just look up.”- and I do, well, I look up to the ceiling and she chuckles.- “Not that far.”- Cat holds my arm and helps me. This whole thing is ridiculous and I end up chuckling.

- “Someone having fun?”- I don’t reply, but keep smiling ‘cos at some level, this whole thing could be fun. -“I'm having fun. If your stupid chaperone wasn't here, I would ask the DJ to put on some Savage Garden for the guy-girl skate and we could totally make out.”

Cat smiles at me as she helps me skate, holding my arm.

- “You, uh, you realize what I have to do, right?”- I ask because I can’t drag this conversation any longer.

- “Um, let me think. Ask me a bunch of pointed questions and hope that I trip up? Go ahead. Ask away.”

I know I have to play Cat the right way, she knows I want to rescue her father and half-sister, but that won't come from a direct question. So instead, I ask:

- “What happened to your baby?”- and it works.

- “What?”- she definitely didn’t see that question coming, because her eyes and voice are filled with anger and hurt in a second.

- “The last time I saw you, you were pregnant with someone else's baby that you said was mine.”- I simply add trying to be casual.

- “Why are you asking me about that? I don't want to talk about that.”

- “Hormonal changes during pregnancy expand the brain's capacity for empathy. I was actually just trying to see if I could use it against you.”- it’s not the honest reason, but I think it works.

- “Oh, really? What about, um, sex?”

No. My strategy didn’t work. Now she wants to find me unprepared. She moves and crushes her body against me and stares right into my eyes, trying to read the effect she has on me. I hold her in place and stare at her, glad there are no cameras here, just audio to report back to the team.

- “Why don't you use that against me?”

It’s far from a pleasant image if you ask me to be honest. Sex will only seem tempting if it’s with the woman I love, and as much as I try to hide my contempt, I fail. Cat moves away from me and stares at me with pure hate. Then, she slaps me so hard I fall to the floor on these stupid skates.

- “Cat, wait!”

I stand up as fast as I can and start to make the story believable enough to help me through this. I know (Y/N) is listening on the other side of the mic, but this is the only chance I’ve got to finish with this and save that family. And I know she understands.

- “Cat! Cat! Wait! I can explain!”- I follow her to the lockers, where she is taking off her skates, furious.

- “I have spent my entire adult life reading men. I know when they're thinking about someone else.”

- “Yes, I was thinking about my wife, but that doesn't mean…”

- “Do you know what this was for me? I didn't ask for one last family visit. I didn't want one final meal. I wanted this. And you can't even give me the courtesy of your undivided attention before I'm executed.”

Somehow, she was being honest about that. This was all she had asked for, which is sad. But she just had to torture two people to get it.

- “So, thank you very much, but this date is over. You can turn off the stupid lights, boys. Let's get out of here.

- “She's not you.”- it’s the only thing I can come up with. I stand in front of Cat looking defeated and she stares at me, still angry, and trying to find a flaw in my facade.

- “You're lying.”- and she doesn’t believe it, so I have to make sure she swallows every word that comes out of my mouth from now on. It’s time to lie.

- “I'm not lying. I wish I was, but I'm not! There's some part of my brain, some part that you somehow inhabit, and no woman, no matter how good, no matter how kind, no matter how sexy she is, not even my own wife can ever get you out.”- she stares at me and suddenly I wonder if this is exactly what (Y/N) fears the most. Am I hurting her?

- “Do you think about me when you kiss her?”

- “Yes.”- I don’t even think about it, I just answer. She raises an eyebrow with a smirk.- “And if it makes you happy, I’m pretty sure I’ll be in big trouble when I get home after our date.”

- “Does she know everything you do or think?”

- “No, but I try to tell her most things.”- I say those words with the certainty I am not lying.

- “Most things, not all things.”- Cat takes the bait and a part of me feels good lying is useful for once.

- “No…”

- “What doesn’t your wife know that I could know?”

- “Well…”- I glue my eyes to the floor, trying to look as ashamed as possible.

- “Come on. Give me something.”- her voice is annoyed and anxious.

- “I still go to my old apartment.”

- “What?”

- “We were supposed to sell it when we got the house, but I wanna keep it. She doesn't know that I still hang out there sometimes when I tell her I’m running an errand.”

- “Then I want to see your apartment. Now.”

(Y/N)’s point of view

Call me petty, but the fact Spencer is on a date with Cat Adams is driving me more crazy than not being able to find her father and half-sister. Something is off. Adams has to be hiding something. She wants to throw us a curveball at the last minute. But what?

I stare at Emily as the team analyzes every second of the conversation Spencer is having with Cat. My cell phone hums in my pocket and I grab it immediately, thinking it could be my mom. She is with the kids tonight. But instead, it’s Frank.

- “Nugget, I’m sorry.”

- “Hey, what is it?”- I can tell he is stressed ��cause his voice is shaky and very fast.

- “I just… never thought I could make this call, less on your last day, but I need your help. We do.”

- “What happens, Paco?”

- “It’s Tarah’s dad, Charlie. He has been missing since last night.”- I hold my breath, shocked. His girlfriend’s father is missing. And because I am surprised, I ask the wrong question.

- “What? Are you sure?”

- “Of course I am sure! I would never call you if I weren’t sure!”- my friend snaps right away.

- “Sorry! Sorry! Did you guys fill the report?”- I walk outside the conference room as I talk with my friend.

- “Tarah is just doing that as we speak, but it’s not just that.”

- “What is it?”

- “Lizzy, Mikey’s sister-in-law is missing too. Both of them disappeared last night.”

And somehow, it clicked.

- “I’m gonna need you to send me pictures of them asap. I’ll make sure they get home safe tonight.”

I rush back into the conference room and start shouting information, hyperventilating ‘cause we are wasting time.

- “It’s about Spencer.”- Rossi and Em stare at me, lost. Of course, none of them gets what I’m trying to say ‘cause they are not in my head, so I try to elaborate on my breakthrough.

- “This whole show Cat is doing, it’s about Spencer and me, I’m sure this bitch knows we are leaving the FBI.”

- “What? Why?”- Prentiss doesn’t doubt it, she just needs more proof.

- “Frank’s father inlaw and Mikey’s sister inlaw are missing, they are sending me pictures as we speak, and if I’m right, I’m pretty sure that’s the father and daughter Juliette is torturing.”

- “Fuck.”- Rossi whispers as he shakes his head.

- “Can you get your friends to come over?”- Prentiss asks and I just nod. - “Good, ‘cause we need to be ready for whatever Cat is planning to do now. She won’t get away with this.”

- “Spencer is taking Cat to your old apartment.”- Matt shows up suddenly with the news

- “What? Why?”

- “Apparently, Cat wants to see it…”- my phone rings that second. Mikey’s hyperventilating at the other side of the line.

- “I just got a call from an unknown number, a woman yelled at me to go to your old apartment. It said there was a hidden key underneath the mat. And if I don’t go, she’ll kill Lizzy and Tarah’s dad.”

- “Cat is taking us all there.”- I say and look at Prentiss.- “I’m on my way, Mikey, wait for me there. I’m gonna call Frank.”

Just then, I get a text myself. It says: “If you want to save them, go to your old apartment.” So Cat wants me to be there as well. I wonder why. I show it to Prentiss as we hurry to get into the car and she stares at me, pale.

- “She has never even addressed you.”

- “No. Not really.”- now that I think about it, Cat has always been alone with Spencer. I watch them interact from a safe distance, but I have never spoken to her. This shit will be weird.

I was right. Cat wants us all to meet in our old apartment? Why? I have too many theories about that. We meet Frank and Mikey a block before Spencer’s apartment. In the years I’ve met them, I have never seen them like this. They are… losing it.

It’s hard to work with friends and family. You just never know how to keep your head cold, and how to talk to them without sounding condescending. Not even in my worst nightmare I ever imagined I would be in this situation with my best friends on my last day working for the Bureau. But Cat wanted us to leave like this, so we have to deal with what we got.

- “She is the crazy psycho that almost killed Diana?”- Frank asks but instead of me, Prentiss does the talking.

- “Yes, she is. She is a dangerous criminal, and she just wants to hurt Spencer and (Y/N).”

- “I’m gonna kill her.”- Mikey mumbles as we rush upstairs.

- “No, you have to outsmart her. Let her think she is in charge. She will trip with Spencer.”- I command as I open the front door. We are less than fifteen minutes ahead of Cat and Spencer, but we have to be ready for them.

- “Whatever happens, don’t believe anything she says, but act as if you do.”- Prentiss starts instructing my friends.- “She will lie, she will use you to make Reid’s life a living hell. Try to make her see she is convincing you.”

- “She can’t know you are lying.”- I add, scared my friends are caught in this mess.

- “So it’s like when we got drunk as teenagers and pretended to be sober when we got home?”- Frank somehow jokes in the middle of this nightmare, probably trying to ease the mood. And I just smile at him and nod, as I help wiring him.

- “Hopefully your acting will be better now. You always got caught.”- I smile at him, but tears fill my eyes in a second. I hate getting emotional on the field, but this is my family we are talking about.

- “Hey, hey. No, don’t.”- Frank holds my hands and looks at me.- “Don’t give this bitch what she wants. Don’t cry.”

- “I’m just so sorry.”

- “You are sorry she is a crazy bitch?”- Frank raises an eyebrow as I shake my head.

- “I’m sorry we dragged your families into this madness.”

- “This is what she wants, nugget.”- Mikey kisses my forehead and wipes my tears.- “Don’t let that psycho win.”

- “They are almost here.”- Garcia announces. She checks our mics, and earpieces and kisses my cheek.- “I love you, munchkin. You can do this.”- I just nod and watch her and the rest of the team rush out of our old apartment.

Just now I realize how empty this whole place looks. We left some furniture behind, an old sofa Raven and Vinny had mostly destroyed, and a small table. But it feels so weird without all of our books and mess and child’s screams. Our landline is apparently still on, and a very old telephone sits there, alone. Frank lights a cigarette and I almost ask him to put it off out of instinct. Like the kids were still there.

We say nothing for a few minutes. We just stand there speechless. Mikey whispers a few things, mostly words of encouragement. Until we hear some noises from the hall.

- “This is it.”- I whisper and my friends just nod. Anything could happen. Adams probably has a very structured plan and we need to outsmart her. I am sure she just wants to hurt us. Mentally and even physically.

So of course, as soon as the front door opens, the first thing I see is Spencer kissing Cat as if his life depended on it.

- “What the fuck?”- I mouther as I open my eyes wide and my husband removes his lips from Cat’s, in shock, fear and regret. I can read it all on his face, but it doesn’t mean much at the moment. I don’t even have to force myself to fake the anger. I am burning.

Spencer stares at me for a few seconds, still holding Cat’s face with both hands. As soon as he reacts to what’s happening, he starts walking in my direction, but Frank’s fist stops him. He hits him hard, right on the jaw.

- “Mother fucker!”- Frank hisses and I wrap my arms around him to stop him from resuming the fight. I don’t know if this is pretending or if he is actually mad, but he wants to keep hitting Spencer and I am not letting that happen.

- “I told you what would happen if you ever made her cry!! I warned you!! Now you got us all in this fucking mess! I am gonna kill you!”

Frank’s face is red in anger as he yells. Spencer raises a hand to his jaw and stares at him for a second in disbelief. Then, he looks at me with sorry eyes. He is almost in tears. I remember Cat was just here, but she is nowhere to be seen. Probably the SWAT team took her out. Mikey holds my hand, pulling me away from Frank, and wraps an arm around my shoulder protectively.

- “Chipmunk, this is not what it looks like.”

- “Get them out of here!”- Luke rushes in and my friends raise their hands like they were being at gunpoint.

- “No, we can’t leave. She’ll kill them if we do.”- Mikey explained.

- “Who?”- Spencer asks but keeps looking at me.

- “My sister-in-law and Frank’s father-in-law. She took them.”- as Mikey speaks, Luke stops the few SWAT officials in the room from taking them out. - “Someone called us and told us to come here if we wanted to see them alive again. Our wives are terrified, Reid. We need to get our family back.”

- “This is all my fault.”- Spencer whispers and for once, I don’t comfort him. I don’t open my mouth.

- “Spencer, what the fuck is happening?”- Frank demands to know.- “Tell me before I break your face.”

- “Guys, I’m so sorry. I don’t have enough time to explain. I just wanna apologize for what you saw. It really means nothing, I am just trying to…”

- “No time for that, Spencer.”- I snap and look at Luke.- “Bring her back and leave us alone.”

- “What?”- Alvez stares at us not getting what’s happening. But Spencer agrees.

- “If she brought all of us here, this is what she wanted.”- I add before my husband grabs the landline phone and calls from his cell.

- “You can monitor us from here.”

- “Are you sure?”- Luke asks and I just nod.

- “I’ll keep her safe.”- my husband tries to hold my hand but I don’t let him and he stares at me like a wounded puppy. It hurts to act this way, but if I just saw him kissing another woman. A crazy bitch as a matter of act. And I know it’s not because he wants to do it, he was probably just trying to prove a point. But it still hurts. I have to use this anger to make it all real in front of Cat.

- “Follow my lead. We can outsmart her.”- Spencer says and looks at our friends.- “Trust me, please. Let her goat, she loves to goat. Just don’t show fear, she’ll use it against you.”

- “Who are you talking about?”- Frank asks as Cat walks into our apartment, a sign I never imagined could happen, not in this life or another.

- “Her.”- I point out and cross my arms on my chest. Luke leaves us alone, closing the door behind his back.

Cat fucking Adams wipes her mouth with her hand, remembering my husband’s lips were just there a few minutes ago. I have a gun, I could just kill her.

- “I can’t believe after all this time we haven’t properly met, Mrs. Reid.”- she smiles at me and winks.- “She is cute, Spencie.”

- “We are here. What the hell do we have to talk about?”- my husband barks at her, and she scoffs as if the answer is too obvious.

- “So much, so, so much. I can’t believe this is actually the first time I get the chance to talk with your wife. We have so much to share. We both know you so well.”

- “I give a fuck about your stupid crush on Spencer. I just want my family back.”- Frank snaps and I hold him back.

- “I like you, you are feisty. I never got what were you doing hanging out with two feds. You had potential as a riot maker.”- Cat smiles at Frankie and my friend nearly bites her as he replies.

- “Oh shut up. Just tell us what the fuck you want and let us leave.”

- “I just wanted us to talk. I mean, we’ve been all connected for so long, it’s only fair we get to know each other better. Especially us, (Y/N). Our lives, and some other things, have been touched by the same man.”

It’s official. I’m gonna kill Cat Adams.

Spencer’s point of view

- “Did it make you mad that I was kissing your husband?”- Cat asks with the most innocent tone of voice and I don’t know if I should look at (Y/N) or just ignore what’s going on. Of course, my wife knows what to answer, though her cold tone of voice is so unsettling.

- “A lot of things you did made me mad today. Mostly the fact you kidnapped my friend’s family. Why?”

- “Why what? Why I kissed him? He kissed me, actually.”- I open my mouth to argue with Cat’s affirmation, but (Y/N) speaks quicker, sounding incredibly tired of the whole situation.

- “No, Cat. Why don’t you just release their family? They have nothing to do with this.”

- “They have so much to do with all this. What was it, Reids? Did you think you were gonna quit and everything was gonna be fine? You don’t get it. They don’t get it.”- she ads and looks at Frank and Mikey.- “Did you guys get it? How much your friends have fucked up your lives? How their jobs got you all in this shit?”

- “Honestly, right now, I give a shit about their lives. I just want you to stop this and release our family.”

- “Wow, Frank. That’s not what a friend would say.”- the way Cat says Paco’s name is upsetting, and I can see how my wife is trying to mask her anger.

- “Excuse us, but we actually have other things in mind right now.”- Mikey adds, and lights a cigarette.

- “Like what?”

- “Are you gonna hurt Lizzy and Charlie?”

- “No if I don’t have to.”- I know Cat is lying. - “What’s important here is that you learn your lesson.”

- “Which lesson would that be?”- Frank questions and crosses his arms on his chest. He and Mikey are standing at each side of my wife, protecting her. Something I wish I could do better at this moment.

- “Well, usually Spencie and I spend our time together playing games, but tonight I brought you all here to make a point. You could do so much better.”

- “With you?”- I ask her, but she shakes her head and points at my wife and her friends.

- “The three amigos here. Especially you, (Y/N). You had so much potential. I know you’ve been wanting to leave the BAU for longer than your husband here, and you’ve stayed in this shitty job, putting your friends and their families in danger just because he can’t make up his freaking mind.”

- “That’s not true.”- I argue, but my wife doesn’t say a word. Instead, I see her fighting the tears. And Cat smiles, rejoicing in the pain she is causing (Y/N).

- “Apparently, it is.”

- “(Y/N)?”- I whisper her name and she bites her lips, trying not to burst into tears. Frank holds her hand and Mikey wraps an arm around her, two things I should be doing.

- “I’ve hated this job since before Hotch had to leave. I wanted to quit since Raven was born. You just… didn’t listen every time I tried to tell you.”

- “You see, Spencie? Your wife hasn’t been happy for a while, and you never noticed. Your marriage isn’t as perfect as you thought it would be.”

- “Chipmunk, why didn’t you tell me?”- I whisper, afraid of the answer.

- “I couldn’t. You just… weren’t ready to deal with this, and I thought if I faked it for a little longer, I was going to fall in love with the job again.”

- “But you didn’t”- Cat adds and my wife just shakes her head.

- “And you know what’s even worse than that? The fact a psycho noticed and you didn’t!”- (Y/N) isn’t yelling, but the words come out filled with anger, and she is being sincere.

- “I… I am so sorry, chipmunk.”

- “Finally, we are getting to the heart of the matter.”- Cat claps a few times and walks around our empty living room.- “He told me he doesn’t want to sell this place, by the way. That he still comes and hangs out here on his own when he says he is running an errand.”

- “Everything I said, I did to save their families, ma cherie.”- I ignore Cat and try to talk to my wife. But she ignores me.

- “Did that kiss look like a lie, (Y/N)? Be honest.”- Cat asks her.

- “It was.”- I assure my wife but she wipes her tears from her cheeks and looks at me, knives coming from her eyes.

- “You know that looked pretty real, Spencer.”

- “Chipmunk, please.”

- “Shut up, Reid.”- Frank is losing his patience.- “You fucked it up, at least admit it.”

- “Frank is right. Everyone thinks that Doctor Spencer Reid is just this nice, bookish genius who always saves the day and has all the answers and who would never ever hurt anyone, right? ‘Cause he is the nice guy. But I know the real him.”

- “Oh yeah? Who is the real me, Cat?”- I sound defiant ‘cos I’m fucking tired of this trial.

- “The real Spencer Reid throws women against walls and hisses that he’s gonna kill them.”- she replies, hitting a sensitive spot.

- “That was a very different situation.”- I explain, but she dismisses my words.

- “Your wife was there. Am I right, (Y/N)?”

- “What is she talking about?”- Frank asks and turns to me.- “Who the fuck did you hurt?”

- “No one! I hurt no one!”- I try to defend myself, but I know Cat will have a different point of view.

- “Come on, Spence”- she says with a mocking tone of voice.- “Don’t lie to your friends anymore. That’s why we are here. To be honest with each other, so they can see you are not a saint, and that their friend really screws them over bringing you into their lives.”

- “Who did you hurt, Spencer?”- Mikey asks and stares at me, demanding answers.

- “You tell him. They are not gonna believe it coming from me.”- Cat says innocently.

Frank and Mikey stare at me as if they don't know the story. Which they don’t. Not this part, at least.

- “I’m sure you remember two years ago, Cat had her partner kidnap my mother. Just like tonight. She got under my skin and…"

- “And you threw her against a wall?”- Frank asks raising an eyebrow, shocked.

- “Don't skimp on the details, Spencie. They deserve to know everything.”- Cat is surely enjoying this moment of humiliation for me.

- “She was pregnant at the time and I knew that when I hurt her.”- I whisper those words staring at the ground ‘cause I am honestly ashamed of confessing it in front of my friends.

- “And?”- Mikey asks.- “How badly did you hurt her? Did you lose your temper?”

- “Well, the next day I miscarried, so you can imagine who mad get got.”- Cat whispers but the words are heard by everybody.

- “That's not true.”- I snap and look at her, in shock.

- “It is most certainly true. Check my medical records."- Cat basically threatens us with those files, and I can't believe a word she is saying.

- “That doesn't mean I… I would stop.”

- “You stopped ‘cause your wife forced you. But who forces you to stop when you lose your temper with her?”

- “I would never…”- I whisper shocked by her insinuation.

- “Never, Spence? You did it with me.”- Cat raises an eyebrow and looks at me.

- “You had kidnapped my mother!”

- “So that gives you the right to kill my baby?”

Kill a baby. I murdered a poor child. I feel the knot in my throat tighten and fight the tears. Cat has to be lying. She has to. Because if by any chance she is telling the truth, I don’t think I will ever be able to live with the guilt. I’ve killed evil men, and I’ve pulled the trigger knowing the consequences of my acts many times. But not once I’ve ever thought about hurting a baby, an innocent child.

- “I thought you were decent.”- it’s the repugnance in Frank’s tone of voice that shocks me. - “To think you could do that to my sister.”

- “I would nev…”

- “Shut up, dude.”- Mikey pushes my arm, but my wife stops him.- “I always knew your mister goody goody attitude had to be fake. No one is like that in real life.”

- “It was about damn time you knew the real Spencer.”

- “Shut up, Cat.” - (Y/N) whispers and covers her face with both hands.- “You wanted to hurt my whole family? Congratulations, you did it! Now let those poor people free! They didn’t do anything!”

- “They did! You are just not seeing it yet, chipmunk!”

My wife’s nickname coming from Cat’s lips seems tainted. And somehow I realize how she makes me my sanity. I can picture myself hurting Cat Adams and not feeling bad about it. That kind of thought is dangerous.

- “I’m sorry.”- I whisper and try to reach (Y/N), hold her hand, but she moves away from me, breaking my heart.

- “Notice how he apologizes to you, not to me, and it’s my dead baby.”

- “I would never… I didn’t mean to…”

- “It doesn’t matter, Spencer.”- Cat says and looks at my wife.- “All men are the same. Aren’t they, Mrs. Reid?”

- “Don’t call her that.”- I snap at her immediately.

- “Or what? Are you gonna throw me against the wall? Choke me? Or do you do that only to pregnant women?”

- “Why are you doing this to them?”- Mikey asks, thankfully ending that useless argument.

- “Because I want you all to see it. How Spencer ruins everything he touches.”- Cat looks at Mikey and Frank as she speaks, and then looks at my wife.- “Spencer ain’t better than whoever hurt you before.”

- “Don’t you dare bring that up”- Mikey’s words stop my heart, and my wife looks at him with watered-up eyes. I have no idea what he is talking about, but whatever it is, it pleases Cat, so she looks at my wife with a fake smile and asks.

- “What’s his name?”

- “I mean it, (Y/N), we are not talking about this shit.”- Mikey warns her, and I stare at them puzzled. What have they been hiding all these years?

- “Come on, Mrs. Reid. Tell us.”

- “It’s not of your business. Mikey is right. We are not talking about him. Release their families.”- but Cat just smiles a her and shakes her head.

- “You know it’s my business, (Y/N). It’s my specialty. What I did for a living. So come on. Share with the class.”

- “If you wanna know about him, release their families.”- my wife crosses her arms on her chest and stares at her.

- “Do you want me to make a phone call so you can trace it?”- Cat smiles at (Y/N) and mimics her posture.- “You guys at the FBI are so good.”

- “What the fuck is wrong with you?”- Frank shouts- “Stop flirting with Spencer and release our families! What is this sick, twisted thing you two have? And how are you not breaking her face?!”- he asks and turns to my wife.- “He clearly has feelings for her! How can you just overlook that?!”

- “I can’t overlook it! It’s just… I can’t-” (Y/N) fights the tears and groans as she walks across the room.- “What she does to him I can’t control it. Happy? Now release their families! Please!”

My wife sounds desperate, and Cat simply stares at her.

- “Tell me his name.”

- “Don’t do it, we’ll find another way.”- Mikey warns her. Why is he trying to keep this a secret?

- “Tell me the story, (Y/N). And I promise you, Lizzy and Charlie will be free to go.”

- “Nugget, you fucking promised me we were never going to talk about that again. Don’t do it.”- Mikey begs her.

- “We have to do anything she wants if we want to save Lizzy and Charlie"- (Y/N) mutters and sighs.- "Sometimes bitches win. This time, she does.”

- “No, please.”- Mikey sobbs and hugs (Y/N). What the fuck happened that I never heard anything of.

- “Arthur.”- my wife walks away from me and whispers the rest.- “His name is Arthur, he is Mikey’s older brother. We dated for two years.”

- “Your best friend brother. What happened?”- Cat is enjoying this and I hate it.

- “What do you think happened? Does it look like we lived happily ever after?"- (Y/N) asks, annoyed

- “Tell me, when did it end?”- Cat keeps asking.

- “When I was twenty.”- my wife stares at her hand, embarrassed by the story.

- “Was he your first?”

- “Shut up.”- I stare at Cat and she just smiles at me.

- “What? I just wanted to know. You surely must know you were not her first.”

- “He was my first love. I loved him since I can remember. Mikey’s older brother, he was… he always seemed so cool. So different than all the kids in school.”

- “And what happened?”

- “What do you think happened, Cat?”- (Y/N) sounds irritated.- “Do you think everything ended like a fucking fairy tale?”- but Cat shakes her head, keeping her posture and calm.

- “Come on, Reid. I am not the enemy here. Just tell me the story.”

My wife sighs and looks at Mikey. He is angry, and fighting the tears himself.

- “I’m sorry.”- (Y/N) whispers and holds his hand.- “I tried to change for him. I did. A lot. He didn’t like that I was smarter than him, or that I had many friends in school. So I stopped hanging out with my friends from college. I never talked about school, my classes, or any kind of award or recognition I got for my grades. But that wasn’t enough for him. He wanted to control everything I did. Everyone I talked to. But it wasn’t enough.”

- “When did he start hitting you?”

- “He didn’t.”- my wife replies and shakes her head.- “He never raised his hand to me… not until the end at least. Instead, he isolated me. I barely even saw my family anymore. Not even my closest friends were safe. Mikey and Frank realized something was wrong… but…”

- “But you somehow got out of that relationship. How?”- Cat walks towards my wife and stares at her. (Y/N) sighs and closes her eyes for a moment.

- “My dad… he tried to talk to me about my boyfriend. He noticed things were not ok. I had moved out of their house already, and we barely saw each other anymore. So… he told me he thought Arthur wasn’t right for me. At first, I didn’t believe him. I thought he was just being an ass because he loved me and he was jealous.”

- “I hate this.”- Mikey mumbles, eyes filled with tears. - “You swore you weren’t talking about this with anyone!”

- “She has your wife’s sister, I’m trying to save her! So your brother raped me! There! I said it!”

- “Chipmunk, stop talking, now.”- I demand and move closer to my wife. Mikey bursts into tears and Frank hugs him.

- “No, don’t stop. Give me your phone.”- my wife does and Cat diales.- “Look, I’ll release their families as soon as you finish this story.”

(Y/N) off the tears that fall down her cheek and looks at Cat, and for once, I don’t think she is trying to read if she is lying. She is connecting with her.

- “My dad talked to me one day. We had a heart-to-heart, and after some time I realized Arthur wasn’t good for me, so I ended things. Of course, he didn’t take it well… and he hit me and raped me.”

- “And you…”- Cat stares at (Y/N) with a smirk. She is enjoying every second of this, rejoicing in her pain.

- “I still couldn’t legally carry a gun so…”- there’s a deep silence for a moment. I don’t move, I just stare at (Y/N) thinking there is nothing she can say that will stop me from loving her.- “So my dad took the blame. He said he walked into him hurting me and shot him…”

- “It was self-defense… he was hurting you.”- I whisper and look at my wife. She didn’t deserve any of that at such a young age.

- “How did it feel killing him? Did you enjoy it?”

- “I didn’t kill him, Cat. I shot his leg and called my dad. He called the ambulance… and he fixed everything.”

- “Well, aren’t you daddy’s little girl”- Cat chuckles and turns to me.- “You really have a type, don’t you?”

- “He helped me. Got him behind bars and made sure he was never going to hurt me again. There! That’s my story. Now you know…”

- “Now you all know… and your friendship is doomed.”- Cat replied and grinned.

- “Why is our friendship doomed, Cat?”- my wife asks- “Mikey knew this whole story.”

- “He did… but he didn’t know this: what I did took me zero planning. Less than a week and I destroyed your lives. Anyone at any time can hurt your family and extended family ‘cause you and Spencer caused so much pain to so many psycho killers like me, anyone can seek revenge. Leaving the FBI doesn’t even matter ‘cause you are in too deep already.”

(Y/N)’s cell phone rings she rushes outside without saying another word, Mikey and Frank following her immediately. Cat stares at me with an evil grin.

- “I win.”

And I feel like I just lost so much.

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