to someone from a warm climate
paring: spencer reid x fem!reader
cw: talk of a typical cm case, small town homophobia (case related), religious homophobia, i don’t know how a church works so blame google if things are wrong, awkward!reader, cheek kiss
synopsis: in which a serial rapist in small town virginia brings the team down and spencer meets the sheriff’s odd daughter, someone like him. you know more than you let on, pulling spencer in further
a/n: i usually end with these, but i was start with THIS WAS REQUESTED AND I MESSED UP. i didn’t realize the message was anon when I responded so idk who wanted this. i really hope you find this and enjoy it. anywho, i strayed a little from the request by mistake. reader is smart like spencer and socially awkward, but there’s no smut :( i focused more on their meeting, but I’d be happy to follow this up with something, i just didn’t know how to incorporate smut into this and have it make sense. i also feel like parts of this are rushed so sorry
Spencer didn’t notice you at first.
He was so wrapped up in the BAU’s current case, a psychosexual serial rapist who was terrorizing a small town in rural Virginia. The team had no leads and were scrambling for answers.
The man had killed four women before they came in. Women all in their late teens and early twenties, with no outstanding connection. It meant a lot to a town as small as yours.
The town was in chaos trying to find him. Every person was disturbed and throwing their all into helping. The police were already stretched thin enough as is, the local church offered its members to help keep watch and patrol areas, and the high school put out very clear messages to all its students.
Spencer should have noticed you right away.
You didn’t dive headfirst into helping. Instead, he saw you lingering, everywhere.
At the high school when he and Prentiss were there to update the staff. At the church volunteering to move furniture around. At the hotel the team stayed in.
He finally noticed you fully when you showed up at the police station.
You seemed to float into the building, moving differently than everyone else. People in your town were hard workers; farmers, mechanics, hunters. They moved with intention, every shift had muscle behind it. Only, you seemed like your head was in the clouds, drifting into the building like the wind had blown you there.
Spencer watched carefully as you waltzed right up to the sheriff’s office and let yourself in. He was confused, he hadn’t seen you there in the previous days where the BAU had seemed to become a permanent fixture there.
He muttered something to the sheriff about someone waiting for him in his office and got a blaisé response back that only left him with more questions.
“Ah. That’ll be my daughter.” He said, looking through the window into his office. He shrugged and turned back to the casework. “She’s always doing and saying whatever her mind tells her. Not a second guess in that kid’s head.”
Spencer’s brows had furrowed at that. His mind flashed with the instances he had seen of you.
“Do you mind if I go speak to her?” Spencer asked, his eyes drifted back to you.
The sheriff made a confused sound, sending Spencer an unkind look, “Ya think she’s got something to do with the murders?”
“No. Not at all.” Spencer hummed, “I’ve seen her around and she seems to be everywhere. She might know something about it without realizing it.”
“Alright.” The sheriff sighed, “But, uh, be warned. She’s a good kid, but she’s a little… odd.”
Spencer nodded before walking away. He wound his way through the precinct, moving towards the office with a purpose.
Spencer was a little odd as well, you couldn’t be that different from him.
You had been spinning in your father’s chair with your head tilted all the way back, the office dark and quiet.
Having not had many friends growing up, you spent a lot of time in the police station. You never quite fit in anywhere, so the other girls didn’t want to hang around you. They thought you were weird, and maybe you were. You tried to hang around the older women of the town, but they spent all their time knitting and gossiping, ignoring you as well.
School came easy to you, too easy. You got bored of it. The class work was never a challenge, so, for you, there was no point in even trying. You tried the whole college thing, even spent a semester at a state school. It was still too simple for you. You came back home after the fall semester and looked for work.
The thing about small towns, though, is that everyone knows everyone. Your peers didn't like how easy everything came to you. You came across as a know-it-all and a goody two shoes. Everyone knew you as that— it didn’t help that you were awkward.
A sharp knock on the door pulled you out of your head.
You picked your head up, eyes narrowing at the door. Standing up and moving to the door, you swung it open to see one of the FBI agents your father called in to help.
“Hello.” You hummed, voice dry and scratchy from your previous silence.
“Hi. I wanted to speak with you, about the case.” The man said.
He was tall, taller than a lot of the men you were used to in your hometown. His hair was light brown and his eyes were a deep chocolate brown. He was wearing black slacks and a blue button down. His gun holster was placed forward on his belt, a position you knew had to be awkward to reach for. He was beautiful, though, even you could see that.
“I know who you are.” You said, turning and walking away from the door. You flicked the lights on and dropped back down in your father’s chair, leaving him to enter.
He followed you in, sitting in one of the chairs across from you.
“You think I know something.” You said, staring at him.
A half-smile tugged at his lips as he nodded. “I do.”
He didn’t ask a question, so you didn’t give him an answer. You sat in silence, staring at each other.
It was clear you were both analyzing the other.
He was a profiler, you knew that. You guessed he was cataloging everything about your demeanor; how you sat, the way your arms were folded over your chest, the direction of your feet, even probably things you didn’t realize were able to be profiled.
You were doing your own fair share of profiling as well.
Through your experiences growing up, you learned how to read people pretty well. It became a necessity, to know when your classmates were teasing you or trying to trick you into doing something embarrassing.
The man, Dr. Spencer Reid as you knew, wasn’t a threat, at least not to you. There was something familiar in the way he held himself. You recognized it only because you saw it in yourself. He was too young to be a doctor, unless he went through school quicker than average— meaning it came easy to him, like it did for you. Only he had the possibility to be accommodated, unlike you.
“You know the people of the town well?” He asked, voice deceptionally light.
“No.” You murmured. “Not in the way you mean.”
His eyes narrowed at you. “What way do I mean it?”
“The personal one. The one where I know what their favorite food is and if they prefer sunrises or sunsets.” You said.
Dr. Reid hummed, nodding slightly. He rested his chin in his palm, tilting his head slightly, “But, you watch everyone. I’ve seen you.”
“Yes.” You confirmed. “That’s how I know people. I see what they think no one does because, to them, I’m not even there.”
“They disregard you. Your presence doesn’t even faze them. They don’t see you as someone they need to watch their words around. ” He said. It wasn’t a question. He spoke like he knew it was true— and it was.
You stared at him for another moment before averting your eyes from him for the first time. It was uncomfortable being around someone who was equally as observant as you for the first time. You couldn’t scare him off because he knew how to see through the smoke you fronted.
“You have to know something everyone else doesn't.” Dr. Reid said, dipping his head into your field of view again.
You sighed quietly, shifting uncomfortably in your seat. “My daddy is a good officer. He means well and has the people of the town in his mind, always.”
“But he doesn’t have open views.” You said, looking back at him. “The women that have been killed… They're all homosexuals. He doesn’t want to accept that’s what they are, or that’s why they’re being killed.”
His brows pulled together and his eyes drifted. You watched the look on his face as he added that piece into the puzzle. The shift on his face was clear, things were making more sense.
“T-Thank you…” He whispered, the distant look still in his eyes. He reached into his pocket and handed you a small piece of paper. “Here’s my card. Please, call me if you can think of anything else that might help the case.”
You held the card in your hand, not pocketing it. “I’ll be here. I don’t… exactly have a lot of other things to be doing.”
Spencer stared at you for a long moment after you spoke, a potentially bad idea running through his head.
“Do you— do you want to come look at the case information with me?” He stuttered out.
You blinked at him, face impassive. Spencer didn’t know what to make of it. You were well composed and clearly knew how to control your emotions, something you must have learned during the impressionable years of your life.
You were beautiful, and it was frightening him how controlled you were of yourself. Every minuscule mannerism appeared perfectly maintained; it only happened because you let it. You were someone used to monitoring every move you made, hyper aware of everything you did.
“Okay.” You hummed. “My daddy won’t like it. He thinks I’m loony.”
There was a slight drawl to your words that seemed to become more and more pronounced the more you talked to Spencer. He couldn’t help but notice it.
“No offense,” Spencer started, his tone light, “But, you’re a grown woman. You can make your own decisions about what you do.”
The corner of your lips twitched, the biggest reaction he’d gotten out of you— and it felt weirdly gratifying for Spencer. He didn’t know why. Maybe because you were clearly aloof and getting you to be involved was a feat.
“You don’t understand how things work around here, do you, Doctor?” You said.
“Come help. I’ll deal with your father.” He insisted surely.
You didn’t respond to him.
Spencer watched as you stood, chair spinning behind you, and you simply left the office without another word, flicking the lights off as you went and pitching him in the dark. He got up and followed after you, taking long strides to swallow up the surprising amount of distance you had created.
He caught up right as you entered the work space the team had been allotted. Hotch and Prentiss were still at the precinct with him, hovering over the details of the case.
Your father sent you a worried look as you approached. “Sweetheart? Is everything okay?”
“They need help, daddy.” You said plainly.
Spencer paused just behind you, his chest a breath away from your back, hovering behind you like a protective statue. He felt some kind of familiarity with you, and it made him want to back you up and connect with you.
“Yes, well, leave the helping to the professionals, why don’t ’ya?” Your father said.
“Actually, Sheriff.” Spencer cut in, soaring a glance to his curious teammates. “I think she might be able to help us a lot more than you think.”
Spencer shifted and sent Hotch a look, one that said ‘I got this.’
“She’s special, Agent.” Your father said, tone turning sharp. He turned his gaze back to you, “You’re a smart girl, sweetheart, but we both know you have trouble with people. I’m trying to keep you safe.”
“From the FBI?” You deadpanned. “That doesn’t make sense, daddy. You know those women were homosexuals and you know that’s why they were killed.”
He scoffed and looked to Hotch for backup, who just sent you a confused look.
“Excuse me?” Hotch asked, looking to you to answer the question you just posed in all their minds. “If each of those women were homosexual—“
“Don’t say that!” Your father hissed.
“You know they were.” You respond, voice remaining cool despite the heat in your father’s. “You know they were, daddy. That’s why they were killed!”
Your father blew up with anger, shouting at you, snarling harsh words at you, before storming out of the precinct. It left the two other agents and Dr. Reid watching you carefully.
You kept your composure, not turning and watching as your father had his tantrum . You faced the room, eyes moving to the evidence board littered with photos, maps, and post-it notes.
“They’re all homosexuals.” You repeat calmly.
“That changes a lot.” The agent in charge said, Hotchner, you remember. “If this unsub is targeting gay women, it could be that they struggle with their own sexual identity or that they see these women’s as something they need to be cleansed of.”
You stepped further into the room, gravitating to the opposite side of the table. Your fingers grazed over the victim’s photos spread on the table.
Arranging two together, you said, “They were a couple. It was a secret. People here don’t approve of that kind of stuff.”
Dr. Reid’s eyes were trained on you, you could feel it. It was heavy, the way he followed every movement you made like a wolf stalking its prey.
“You knew?” The woman, Agent Prentiss, asked you, directing her attention to the photos, then the evidence board to note the new information.
You nodded subtly, “They met every Tuesday and Friday behind the cinema.”
“She pays attention.” Dr. Reid said, sounding distracted.
When you picked your head up, he was already staring at you, lips parted.
You held his gaze, a strange warm feeling twisting in your chest. It felt hot as it moved down to your gut.
“You notice everything, you know what it all means.” He added.
It made you uncomfortable. The attention and the overwhelming feeling of him seemingly knowing you, it freaked you out. You couldn’t hide from someone that was as intelligent as you, couldn’t tailor a persona and let him believe you were just some girl with her head in the clouds. You felt vulnerable underneath his gaze and even though you felt exposed, it didn’t scare you away. It was drawing you in.
You turned towards the agent in charge, his air of authority overwhelming the other agent’s, “How much have you examined the church?”
“You think someone in the church is doing this?” Agent Hotchner asked, voice careful and measured. He was intentional in keeping his voice lower so the other cops in the station wouldn’t hear him.
An accusation of someone in the church was unheard of in a town like yours, where the relationship with God was the most important. No one pointed fingers at the church— most of the time, there was no reason to. It was filled with mostly good people who simply paired their faith with helping others in the community.
But, you knew of members who spewed hateful rhetoric, despite how they publicly portrayed support.
“I think you should look into Pastor John’s private life.” You said slowly, “Check into the company he keeps, and their… records. You’ll find things to be concerned about regarding your case.”
Agent Prentiss was already pulling out her phone and calling someone, turning to face the back wall and keeping her voice low. She quickly thanked whoever was on the phone with her before turning back to the table.
Agent Hotchner and Dr. Reid kept their eyes on you.
“You’re sure?” She asked, leaning her hands on the table, “If we go down this road and it turns out to be wrong… the community won’t trust us when we do catch the bastard responsible for it.”
“There’ll be a fire behind the church tonight, around midnight. You should go.” You hummed, raising a brow at her.
Agent Prentiss stared at you for a long moment before finding whatever she was looking for in your expression and nodded. “Alright.”
Your eyes drifted to the clock above her head, noting the time ticking dangerously close to three.
“If you’ll excuse me,” You said, straightening up slightly, “I have to go pick my siblings up from school. If you find yourself in need of any more help, I’ll be at home all evening taking care of them.”
You disappeared from the room and building before any of them could respond, your form slipping through the doors like a phantom.
Spencer felt like you left no trace, truly just disappearing. His eyes drifted back down to the photos you moved around, his brain already running over dozens of possibilities.
Hotch and Prentiss seemed just as thrown but your demeanor, sharing a puzzled look.
“She’s… interesting.” Prentiss murmured, “Helpful… but interesting.”
Hotch waved her off, “It doesn’t matter. If she’s right about them all being gay, that gives us a motive—“
He was cut off by a phone ringing, Prentiss’s.
“Garcia. Alright. Really? Okay, send me the records,” Prentiss said, listening intently to Garcia before clicking her phone off and turning back to them, “Our Pastor John has a record three towns over— beating a boy so badly he was hospitalized for two weeks.”
Hotch shook his head, “Concerning, but it doesn’t make him our unsub.”
“The boy was gay.” Prentiss added with a gotcha look.
Something clicked in Spencer’s head at her words, the pieces all falling into place slower than he would’ve liked.
“Homosexuality is viewed as a sin.” He mumbled, eyes glued to the pictures, “They wouldn’t have told anyone… but they may have confessed it.”
With the helpful knowledge you lended them about the women’s sexuality, the team was able to find unsub quickly.
They arrested Pastor John the following afternoon after speaking with the women’s families and friends, along with the records they had pulled. Morgan, Rossi, and Prenitss searched his home in the morning, finding bloodied clothes and journals full of scripture that he viewed as criminalizing homosexuality. Among the quotes was confessions of his own, small admissions of being attracted to other men.
He confessed after an interrogation done by Spencer and Morgan. He was saying that he was only trying to help the women get into heaven, that they needed to be shown what was right.
The sheriff, your father, was not overly pleased with the outcome— whether it was because he shared the views of Pastor John or simply because he couldn’t solve it on his own. Nonetheless, he thanked them graciously.
Spencer couldn’t help but wonder about where you were, though. He told himself it was because you helped with the case and he wanted to thank you for it, but he knew it was because you intrigued him and he didn’t want to let that go just yet.
“Your daughter,” He started, trying to keep his voice the correct amount of detached, “Where is she?”
Your father bristled at his query, “At home, taking care of her siblings.”
“Right… Is there any way we could stop by on our way to the airstrip to thank her?” He asked, “We wouldn’t have figured this out quickly without her.”
“I suppose it couldn’t hurt.” He said. Your father shifted uncomfortably, clearly debating something in his own mind, “Uhm… Thank you, Dr. Reid. I know I don’t give her all the credit she probably deserves. I’m an old man, it’s hard to change my ways. But, you didn’t doubt her. She needs more people like that in her life.”
Spencer blinked in surprise. For all his expertise in profiling, he would have never guessed that was coming.
Yesterday, your father appeared as a typical small town man; rooted in his ways and beliefs and wouldn’t accept anything to the contrary. Yet, here he was, admitting that he was flawed. He sounded self conscious when he spoke too.
Spencer nodded stiffly, “I know what it’s like to be… different from everyone around you.”
The sheriff hummed, moving his head in agreement.
“Reid!” Morgan called, holding the door to the precinct ajar. “Let’s go, man.”
Spencer gave your father one last look before heading for the door, slipping out.
“I need to make a stop before we leave.” He said over his shoulder to Morgan. “It’ll only take a few minutes.”
“Man, Reid. You already took long enough in there.” Morgan complained, sighing dramatically.
Spencer rolled his eyes as he got into the driver’s seat of their shared car. “Five minutes. I need to thank someone else.”
He didn’t give Morgan any more time to press him for details before driving away. The team had visited the sheriff’s house earlier in the case, so Spencer didn’t need directions there.
The drive was short. There was little traffic on the dirt roads that connected your town together.
He pulled up to an old ranch styled house. The siding was a faded burnt orange with wooden accents. It was quaint, and nothing like the homes Spencer is used to seeing D.C. Children’s toys were scattered in the yard, bright and colorful as they laid in the grass.
“This is the sheriff’s house.” Morgan said, leaning forwards in the passenger seat to peer at the house over Spencer.
“I know.” Spencer hummed, unbuckling. “His daughter told us the women were gay. It helped us link it to Pastor John’s record.”
Morgan made a suspicious noise, giving Spencer a once over. “You sure you’re not here because you just want to see her again?”
Spencer’s head whipped around to give Morgan a mortified look, sputtering over his words.
He wasn't that obvious, was he? There was no way Morgan could know that he found you attractive not only to your physical features, but also to your mental ones. The man wasn’t even at the station when he saw you. Only Hotch and–
Of course she would have told him. Those two are always bugging Spencer about his dating life. It was no surprise that she’d jump at the first sign she saw of Spencer being attracted to someone and tell Morgan.
“You’re not slick, pretty boy.” Morgan chimed.
Spencer gave him a quick look before climbing out of the car without another word and moving up your driveway.
The gravel crunched under his shoes as he ate up the distance to your door, stopping in front of it. His knuckles rapped against the wood, the sound echoing.
He could hear words being exchanged from inside the house. Your voice, clearly upset, and a younger boy’s.
Before he could start assembling the pieces in his mind, the door swung open to reveal a preteen boy. He looked almost identical to you. The same hair, the same tilt to his eyes, even the same analytical look he gave Spencer.
“You’re with the FBI, aren't you?” He said, narrowing his eyes at Spencer. “You got a gun?”
Your voice called the boy’s name, tone sharp. You appeared a few steps behind him before Spencer could answer the question. Obviously, he had a gun.
“Get back to the table.” You hissed, “You know you’re not supposed to open the door, especially with a killer in town.”
“God, can you calm down? They already arrested Pastor John.” He grumbled, stepping away from the door.
You shoved his shoulders in a sibling manner, putting enough force into it to make him stumble as he treaded further into the house as he, presumably, went back to the kitchen.
Your head shook as you stepped outside on the porch, closing the door behind you.
“I apologize.” You mumbled, “He’s at that age where he thinks he can do whatever he wants.”
Spencer let out a short chuckle, “It's okay. Trust me, I know people like that that are grown.”
You hummed thoughtfully, leaning against the rickety railing, your hip pressed into the white-stained wood. “Shouldn’t you guys be leaving? It’s a few hours drive to Quantico.”
“It is.” Spencer nodded, not feeling the need to correct you that they were flying, “I wanted to thank you for your help and… say goodbye.”
Your eyes flicked up to his, the light dancing across the color there. Your features softened slightly. The crease between your brows melted away, allowing Spencer to see you relaxed. He thought you were beautiful before, but the almost unguarded look you had–if he could call it that–made you look striking. Spencer didn't want to peel his eyes away from you.
“We wouldn’t have known to look at the church so soon. It could have been a couple more days before we arrested him, he could’ve taken another victim in that time. You may have saved a life.” He said, giving you an appreciative look. His voice was tight, like he was holding back.
The corners of your lips quirked up into a smile as you spoke, “Most of the people here may not like me, but that doesn't mean I want to see any of them dead.
He let out a short laugh at that. “Makes sense.”
You looked down at your feet, hair falling to frame your face at the new angle.
Spencer had shown you a kindness that was unfamiliar to you. You were used to people brushing you off and finding you to be painful to be around. He had, not only, approached you and encouraged you to help, but he sought you out again. It made you feel connected in ways you hadn’t known before.
“If you ever find yourself in the D.C.-Quantico area, feel free to give me a call. You have my card.” He said quietly.
“I lost it.” You murmured, a lie, but part of you wasn’t ready to see him go.
Spencer hummed, looking you up and down. He knew you were lying, you knew he did and he knew that too. It was his job.
His hands fumbled over his pockets, long fingers catching in the folds of his pockets, before he pulled out a pen. He nodded to your arm, holding his hand out.
You raised your arm, letting him grab it and pull it–you–closer to him. The pen tickled your skin as he wrote his number down again, but even as the feeling distracted you, your eyes stayed trained on his face, cataloguing every detail.
“There.” He said breathlessly, clearing his throat.
Spencer moved to step back, but you grabbed his arm this time, rushing out a faint ‘wait’.
You stepped even closer to him, your shoe nudging his, and pushed up on your toes. Using your hold on his arm for balance as you leaned closer, lips ghosting over his cheek before pressing a soft kiss there. You could feel the heat rush to his face and you couldn't help but smile, letting your control slip for a moment.
Spencer swallowed thickly, his breath catching in his throat.
“Thank you, Spencer.” You whispered before stepping back, giving him his space.
“Uhm– yeah. You-You’re welcome.” He mumbled, nodding.
You moved away from him, leaving a weird coldness for the summer heat that was blazing, and disappeared behind your front door.
Spencer stood there and blinked at the door, surprised by what happened. A warm feeling bubbled in his chest, interrupted by the sound of a car horn.
He looked over to see Morgan pitched halfway over the center console, laughing. Spencer quickly walked away from your house, running a hand through his hair.
“So much for a thank you,” Morgan teased as Spencer got back into the car, “I thought I was watching a movie there.”
“Shut up.” Spencer mumbled, starting the car and shifting gears.
As he pulled out of your driveway, his eyes couldn't help but drift back to your house. Just in time to catch you peeking through a curtain in the front, smiling at him as he left.
taglist: @love-reading-stuff @moonz33 @aseafullofstars @aureliacalista lmk if you’d like to be added/removed
a/n: another one, i’m sorry, but i really hope whoever wanted this enjoyed it and i’m so very sorry if it’s not what you wanted!
