𝙎𝙔𝙇𝙑𝙄𝘼 𝘾𝙊𝙉𝙉𝙀𝙇𝙇𝙔 never feels safe.
𝙎𝙋𝙀𝙉𝘾𝙀𝙍 𝙍𝙀𝙄𝘿 is beyond fixing.
They hate each other.
But what they didn't know
was that all along, the one
thing they both needed was
the other.
❝ the moment I laid my e...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
SYLVIA CONNELLY.
IT HAS BEEN APPROXIMATELY two years, seven months, and 29 days since I've joined the BAU, and Spencer fucking Reid still looks at me like I'm an abomination.
I, Sylvia Connelly, refuses to be nothing but loved by everyone around her. So you can understand how upsetting it was for me whenever I saw him throw dirty looks my way every time I opened my mouth. Truthfully, I couldn't remember the last time I'd been treated like this since high school—I mean, Rebecca the intern is always flashing me malicious looks but she was far from relevant to me.
Spencer, on the other hand, was indeed relevant to me. He was so relevant whenever he walked into work wearing plaid or when he had his hair all messy like he'd woken up like that. He was relevant whenever he opened his damn mouth, spitting out facts like Eminem himself. Spencer was relevant, he was on the BAU and was a respected agent—he was so smart that the word intelligent didn't portray his great mind well enough.
But more importantly, he was very, very, handsome. It was something I'd always kept to myself, because obviously he hated me, but something about Spencer Reid was undeniably enticing and attractive. And of course that feeling of butterflies whenever he looked my way annoyed the living hell out of me, but it'd been two years and I'd learned now just to ignore it all. Ignore the feelings, as well as him.
It was a bit difficult, because I was an outgoing person and wanted to know and get closer to the team. So I couldn't possibly fully ignore Spencer, because on some days he was incredibly irritating—and usually, I'd just throw in some rude remarks once in a while and he'd get all sassy back, but that was it.
I guess today was one of those days. The BAU was on their way to Los Angeles, and I had been sitting in the four-seat area, while he was on one of the longer seats. I snuck a few glances at him every once in a while, a strange feeling bubbling up inside of me—I had the biggest urge to just throw a brick at him. He wasn't doing anything to piss me off other than just sitting there, but the feeling didn't go away.
I wanted to say something to mess with him, but Hotch's voice drew my out of my thoughts. "We might be dealing with a terrorist group." He said, and I nodded, picking up a glossy photo of the wreckage.
"Why target individual homes, though?" I asked, examining the luxurious mansion that was surrounded by debris and smog. "I thought mass destruction was the key indication of a terrorist group."
"Beverly Hills is a rich part of Los Angeles." Derek commented with a shrug, "lots of celebrities. That might be why."
"Individually picking out victims causes more fear in neighborhoods like these. This particular group most likely wants the attention of attacking a high societal neighborhood, where famous people roam." Spencer added, his voice so nonchalant that I had to fight the urge to roll my eyes. "It's also populated by high-income owners—"
