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it-was-summer · 3 months ago

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Video Killed the Radio Star - Tape #3 (Spencer Reid x Fem!reader)

A/N: I am exhausted this weekend so if at some point you feel like the writing shows that DON'T BE ALARMED. It is simply just me fighting back the urge to go to bed. The chapter does contain a good amount of sexual assault and violence so please, please, please be mindful of that while reading. I love all the comments here and Ao3, they make my day! I have also been noticing a lot of love towards the original of this series and I appreciate everyone for taking their time to read the remake! Please know that as of right now this thing IS NOT PROOFREAD I JUST NEED TO GET IT OUT! Stay safe, healthy, and happy! -Love, Em.

Video Killed the Radio Star Remake Masterlist

Link to the Ao3: Video Killed the Radio Star

Previous Chapter: Tape #2 > Next Chapter: Tape #4

WARNING: Cancer mentioned, sexual assault, blood, knife, cutting, mentions of death, death threats. Remember that you are not alone.

Tape Contents: Spencer and Derek are sent to discuss your abduction with Adeline. You fight back a sexual and physical attack from Heather. Heather reveals her plans for what will happen if anyone finds you.

Word Count: 4,029

March 5, 20XX

Spencer wasn’t too fond of hospitals, but he was fond of children. He interacted with them, loving that he could see how they processed information–new and old—every day. He loved Henry to bits, the way the kid was so willing to listen to Spencer’s ramblings or the way he was so amazed at a magic trick Spencer was doing.

Sick kids were a tragically different story, not that he didn’t like them. He always felt like… well, he was having a hard time conceptualizing it as he weaved through the crowded lobby. The pediatrics oncology unit was too packed for his liking. Statistically, he knew that one in two hundred eighty-five children could be diagnosed with some form of cancer before they hit twenty. That didn’t mean he had to like weaving through a small crowd of parents, doctors, and nurses on the way to room two hundred thirty with Morgan. There it was –the words for that feeling– watching someone younger than himself not being able to experience life at thirty.

After finding the friendship keychain, Hotch decided that Reid and Morgan should find your alleged ride-or-die, Adeline Smith. Meanwhile, Hotch and Prentiss would drive to Norfolk to talk to your mother. Rossi and JJ were handling some information with the police, so they were all paired away.

Derek and he slipped into the hospital room that housed Adeline and her daughter, Nicole. His chest tightened involuntarily at the sight of a mother stroking her daughter’s head, a smile on both of their faces. Derek was quick to speak, “Excuse me,” The mother and daughter jumped at the noise, and their eyes snapped to the hospital room door. “I’m Special Agent Derek Morgan, and this is Doctor Spencer Reid. We just have some questions.” His hands dug into his jacket pocket to pull out the badge, muscle memory for both.

Adeline’s hand fell from her daughter's hairless head to her shoulder, her fingers giving it a light squeeze. “Questions regarding?” She asked with a curious expression as she stood up, a skeptical look in her eyes.

Spencer’s eyes met Nicole’s for a second, a small smile rising to his lips, and she gave him a nervous smile right back. He moved his gaze over to Adeline, who was now standing with her arms folded across her chest as she waited for the two men to answer her question. Derek looked over his shoulder at Spencer, then back at Adeline. He gently motioned for her to follow him to a slightly more private area to talk to her, the two moving to a corner of the room near the bathroom.

“Were you aware that Y/N L/N was being stalked?” Derek’s voice was calm as Spencer approached Nicole’s bedside chair and sat in it awkwardly.

Spencer motioned towards the girl’s stuffed animal, a bright orange cat that sat in between her legs. “I love cats,” he said in a soft voice.

Nicole beamed at him, grabbed the stuffed cat, and happily petted the top of its head: “Me too! This is Bee.”

“Bee? Do you like Bees?”

Adeline’s eyes strayed to Spencer's conversation with her daughter, and she nodded a little at Derek’s question: “We talked about it. She went to the police.” She said, a little numbly, before her head suddenly snapped towards him. “Why?”

“She was taken from her apartment on March third. She recorded videos for the police to send to us, the Behavioral Analysis Unit, to help find her.” Derek explained gently as he watched Adeline’s face go pale.

Adeline grabbed her clothed chest and searched for a breath, her eyes wild as she looked at Derek’s face. Her eyes began searching for some hint in his face that he was lying, but she found none. She couldn’t stop the tears that were filling her waterline, and she turned her body away from her daughter and Spencer in a desperate attempt to hide her tears from her daughter. Her knees felt weak as she tried to breathe.

Spencer glanced back at Adeline and Derek, scooting a little to obstruct Nicole’s field of vision. He didn’t want the young girl to see her mother cry. Nicole shook her head slightly at his question, “No, not really. Auntie Y/N got her for me, and she loves bees.” She laughed softly, her words making Spencer’s heart melt a little.

“Is Bee your favorite?”

The girl covered the cat’s plush ears and smiled like she had a secret. “No, but she is my second favorite.” Her fingers scratched the stuffed animal’s ears gently. “Mr. Business is my first,” she whispered to him.

“Ah, and where is Mr. Business?” His eyes searched her hospital bed, and then he spotted a stuffed cat, a tuxedo cat. He grinned a little, and he motioned to the stuffed animal with his eyes, “Mr. Business is a very fitting name, I think,”

Adeline held out a hand for some space from Derek, and the hand clutching her chest came up to her mouth as she tried to keep from vomiting all over him. She had been stuck in this hospital when you had called her that first night. Having always loved talking to you, she answered enthusiastically. Still, the more she listened to the situation, the more she realized she didn’t have the emotional strength to comfort you the way you needed. And she said that to you. She said that to you. She couldn’t help you then, and she couldn’t help you now. She couldn’t even help her own daughter.

A sob rose in her throat, and she shook her head rapidly. “No, no, no, we talked on that day. Th-That night,” She recounted softly to Derek through her tears.

“What did you talk about?” Derek whispered the question softly as his eyes searched the room for some tissues, but his search was futile. He places a gentle hand on Adeline’s shoulder instead.

“We talked about college; she wanted her mind off of things, so we talked about our apartment when we were in grad school. It’s been two days! What have you been doing for two days while my best friend went missing?” Her cheeks were red, her fingers pointing accusingly at him before she sobbed softly, and her hand was moving back up to wrap around her mouth to muffle the sound.

“She didn’t show up to work on March fifth. That's when she was reported missing. We’re doing everything we can. What time did the two of you talk?”

“W-we talked around nine, maybe nine-thirty?” She whispered back softly before she started to breathe heavily again. “Why didn’t I call? I should have called again. It was getting so late, and she had locked all the doors, and I thought she was just being anxious. I should have called her again. I should have left the hospital to visit her.” Her mind was spiraling, the neverending rabbit hole that showed her all the ways she could have saved her best friend, unhinged its proverbial jaw and swallowed her whole, ready to digest.

Morgan wasn’t necessarily new to the information, as Penelope had already told him about your call logs from that evening, but he always liked to hear it be confirmed. It also helped him place an estimate of the time of your abduction. “Could you tell me about anyone, anyone at all, that might have been a little too into Y/N? Any ex-boyfriends that refused to leave her alone? Did she break up with anyone around Christmas?”

“No, she hasn’t dated anyone for almost a year.” Adeline sighed thickly and shook her head as she tried to calm down. “No, all her ex-boyfriends, they were always so mousy. ” She sighed, “And they always look alike,” she paused and gave a soft, sad chuckle, motioning over to where Spencer was as he continued to entertain her daughter. “Well, they all look like your Doctor friend, if I’m being honest. She’s always been too nice for her own good, even in college.”

Spencer tried to talk over the sobs that could be heard from the corner of the hospital room, clearing his throat or laughing as Nicole stumbled through a story. “She’s a loud crier,” Nicole whispered with a gentle pat on Bee’s head.

Spencer frowned as his efforts failed him, and he looked over his shoulder at Morgan, who was looking at him with a similarly sympathetic look on his face. He was about to say something when Nicole shoved Bee toward him, “You should give this to Auntie Y/N. Mommy said she was sad the other day. Bee always helps.”

Spencer turned the stuffed animal over in his hands, and he debated telling her the truth, but thankfully, his better judgment decided against it. “It’ll be the first thing I do when I see her,” Spencer promised softly as Nicole smiled wide at him.

As Derek and he walked out of the hospital, Derek’s eyes stayed on the stuffed orange cat in Spencer’s hands. As they pushed past a small group of people, Spencer found himself almost slamming into a pretty nurse, a gorgeous nurse. Her blue eyes blinked as she shuffled to one side, only to be unintentionally blocked by Spencer once more. She sighed a little and gave him a once over with a frown. Her eyes lingered on the gun holstered against his hip before she gave him a polite smile and said, “Excuse me,” and slipped past the two men with a determined look in her eyes.

Derek only said something when they got into the parking lot, the two of them walking to the black SUV, “Did you pick one up at the gift shop?”

Spencer groaned softly, making Derek chuckle as he walked around the car’s front to the passenger seat. “Open the door,” He said bluntly. When they were both inside the car, Spencer carefully placed the stuffed animal in his bag, and Derek chuckled again at the sight, turning the key.

“You didn’t even buy me one,”

March 5, 20XX

You were assuming Heather was angry with you. The assumption wasn’t baseless as the hunger in your stomach growled. You were quick to find that the harmony between a full stomach and morphine did matter and that harmony had left you many hours prior. You also were basing the assumption as you had spent what must have been a whole day fighting off tears and nausea.

The sick part was that you were beginning to get used to how your body got swarmed with heavy, hot, and benevolent warmth. The dull pain in your ankle was silenced under the warmth’s blanket of kindness. It reminded you of a heated blanket in a strange way.

You had finished the sips of your water before falling asleep and regretting it. You had learned that the bucket off to the side of the dresser was the perfect distance from the bed. Your broken ankle was dragging against the carpet with every movement. The chain around your good ankle didn’t snag as you sluggishly managed to hold your body up against the wall to pee into the bucket.

Once you were done, you hopped on your good leg and managed to pull your clothes back on. Your body fell face-first onto the bed, eliciting a soft groan from your lips as you found your body reluctant to move from its new home.

You closed your eyes and fell into the position, letting the bed sink in deeper. Your eyes snapped open with a sense of alertness that you hadn’t felt in hours as you heard the first click of a lock. Your arms weakly managed to push yourself up into a sitting position, pushing yourself back to your former position against the headboard. Your head throbbed at the fast movement, and your vision blurred as you tried to focus on the door.

When it slowly opened, you sucked in a small breath of air, watching as Heather slid into the room with a tray of food. “Hello, my Catherine.” She sighed as she shoved the keys into her scrub pocket with one balanced hand. “My, my, someone is looking pale today.” She asked as she sat down in the chair off the side of the bed with a gentle, pretty smile.

You nodded a little. Your lips were numb as you licked them. “What day is it?” Your voice came out quiet and strangled.

“Monday,” She stated simply as she twisted the top off a bottle of apple juice. She handed it over to your already waiting hands before she carefully lowered the morphine drip’s intake level. You greedily drank the juice without thinking twice, desperate to get something in your stomach.

You panted lightly as you pulled the half-empty bottle away from your lips, “Th-the date, I mean,”

“March fifth,” She rolled her eyes as she carefully rearranged a neatly made turkey sandwich on a paper plate, slowly placing the plate on the edge of the bed for you to take. “You moved in here early Saturday morning, don’t you remember?” she laughed out like it was the silliest thing she had ever heard.

You felt your mouth start to move to correct her, to tell her that you didn’t move in; she had kidnapped you. But as you stared at the turkey sandwich on the edge of the bed, you realized that playing along would be better. Playing along meant more food and less nausea. Playing along meant living longer. “Right,” You said breathlessly as you pulled the paper plate to your lap. “How could I forget?”

Heather smiled a little as she watched you bite into the sandwich, happy to see you adjusting. You were eating so fast that she was a little worried about your empty stomach. She didn’t want to make feeding you so sporadically a habit. But yesterday, when she came up with a food tray, she thought about your rudeness and how cruel you had been to her. It made her stomach twist into angry knots. She decided that not feeding you for a day would be a lesson.

“I’m so happy our first fight is over. I hate to be angry with you, Catherine.” Heather’s sweet tone wasn’t lost on you as she touched your arm gently. Your chewing slowed for a second before you swallowed, your eyes glued to her hand on your arm.

“I picked out every gift just for you,” She sighed softly as she traced soft circles against your skin. You fought back the urge to pull your arm away. “You’re a hopeless romantic, you know? You remember in college when you and Adeline dressed up as Lizzie and Jane Bennet. No one got it but god,” She sighed, her eyes finding yours as you stayed frozen.

The hand on your arm slowly reached for the paper plate on your lap. Your fingers twitched a little as you fought back the urge to grab the food as she placed the plate on the nightstand beside your bed. Everything was happening so fast and yet incredibly slow at the same time.

Then she stood up and crawled onto the bed, swinging one leg over your lap before stranding you with a white smile. Her hands came to cup your face and tilt it up. A soft sigh fell from her lips. “You’ve always been brilliant,”

You shook your head in her hands lightly. The warmth of the morphine was slow to leave your body, but as your body filled with an intense feeling of dread, you could feel everything. Your ankle throbbed sharply, and you were starting to feel like you were about to be sick again. “I’m not,”

Heather threw her head back and laughed as if it was the funniest thing she had ever heard. When she lowered her head to meet your gaze again, she leaned closer, one of her thumbs reaching up to trace your bottom lip. You cringed a little at the feeling, a sight that she ignored. “You’ve always been so humble, too. How did I get so lucky?” She whispered as she leaned in to kiss your lips softly.

You felt your lips tighten and bile rise to your throat, and you swallowed it. You let her kiss you once, then twice, then a third time. Your lips stayed closed in a tight line as you tried to imagine yourself in a different position, but with every touch Heather placed on you, the more you stayed cemented in your reality.

Heather pulled back with a look in her eyes that you could recognize as crazed lust. You didn’t want to. You didn’t want to know what her hands felt like anymore. You bit your lip to silence a whimper. Her hands pulled roughly at your shirt as she grabbed the hem of it and pulled it over your head with a simple yank.

You shook your head quickly now, “No, Heather, I-I’m not ready. I don’t-”

She shushed you softly with a gentle smile as she traced the swell of your breast slowly, the touch eliciting your tears to pool over your waterline. “I know you’re worried, but I’m going to take care of you, I promise.” Her eyes lingered on the prominent bruise on the center of your chest. She frowned, leaning down carefully to kiss the blue and black patch of skin.

“No,” You cried softly, your voice soft before you decided that you couldn’t take it anymore. “No!” You yelled, causing her back to straighten and sit up.

“I’m sorry?” She asked with a soft scoff.

“I-I can’t do it, I’m not ready. I don’t want to, Heather. Please don’t make me.” You begged softly as tears rolled down your face. “I’ll try next time, I promise. I just, please, please don’t make me.”

Heather frowned a little before she let out a harsh laugh, her arms folding over her chest tightly. She looked down at you, “You know I saw your precious little Adeline today,”

You felt your back tense at Adeline's mention, “What? I thought you worked in pediatrics, not pediatric oncology. W-why did you see Adeline?”

Heather reached out a hand to press on your bruise roughly, the feeling making you wince. “I work in pediatric oncology. Sometimes, I help Nicole. I loved it when you visited her at the hospital. It was almost too easy to steal the copy of your apartment key from Adeline. She doesn’t love you as much as I love you, you know that, right?”

You shook your head, and you cried harder as you realized that you had never even noticed her at the hospital. Your focus has always been so zoned in on Nicole or Adeline that you didn’t even register Heather’s presence. Would Adeline remember Heather? You doubted it.

“She talked to some agents or something and was inconsolable. Fucking useless friend of yours. Anyway, I ran into them in the hallway. Scrawny kid with some buff guy, I’m sure Adeline called them.”

You found your hands grabbing her hand on your chest and shook your head side-to-side. “No, Adeline doesn’t know. I didn’t tell her anything. I didn’t, I promise.”

Heather’s eyes met yours briefly before they trailed down to your bare chest and your hands holding onto her wrist. “Say you love me more than her then,”

“I-I, what?”

“Say it.”

You opened your mouth, but all that came out were gentle sobs as you tried to form the words, terrified that she was about to do something to Adeline. The thought of Heather hurting Adeline had you gasping softly for air.

Her eyes were on yours again as you panted softly, “You don’t love me?” Her spit hit your cheek as she hissed the words in rageful disbelief. She was off your lap in seconds as she moved to the dresser and quickly pulled out a small pairing knife.

“Wait,” You cried softly as you tried to hurry away from her, making a vain attempt to get up from the bed that was meant with a howl of pain from your ankle and your body slumping over the edge lamely.

Her hands grabbed your ankles, good and injured, and pulled you roughly to the edge of the bed. A scream left your throat at the contact. “You think I’m going to let them find you?” She questioned in a suspiciously calm voice as she grazed the smooth side of the knife against your collarbone.

You stayed frozen as she leaned in closer, her lips at the shell of your ear, “If they ever found you, Emma. I would kill you and then myself. I’ve already decided. We have to be together,” Her voice in your ear had you breathing harder as she slowly pressed the tip of the knife into the area above your heart.

The knife only stung at first before it felt like a ripping pain. Heather dragged the knife into your skin with a deliberate sense of control. Not too deep, not too superficial. Something she wouldn’t have to stitch up. She made a diagonal line before staring a few inches apart from the other cut. “We belong together, Jane.”

You cried out again as she started dragging the knife into your skin once more, “Please,”

“You just need to open your heart. If they ever found us, I need to mark where to shoot. Stay still.”

As Heather got close to completing the ‘X’ mark on your chest, marking you as a possible target. You felt your body thrash under her weakly. The edge of one of the lines skewed to the left, and Heather let out an annoyed groan before she pulled the knife away from your chest and to your lips. “Stop fucking crying,” She growled as she slashed at your bottom lip.

You hissed at the feeling as blood coated your chest and filled your mouth. You stared up at her as soft sobs kept leaving your mouth, “Fuck you.” You muttered before gathering as much spit as you could in your mouth and shooting it directly at her.

You laughed as it made contact with her cheek, and she wiped the bloody spit away with the back of her hand. She laughed harshly as she nodded a little, “Okay, so you want to be a brat.” She laughed.

She was sliding off the bed now, leaving you lying on your back, her chest rising and falling quickly as she gripped the pairing knife in her hand tighter. “Enjoy the rest of your meal. It’ll be your last one, Emma.” She snapped at you before stomping to the door and flying it open.

Once she was gone, you stayed there, staring up at the ceiling wordlessly. You licked at the cut on your lip gently as blood flowed freely into your mouth. You swallowed the copper-tasting liquid as you let the consequences sink in. She was going to kill you if they found you, and you had already called for a team of highly trained professionals to come to find you.

You almost laughed at the irony. You didn’t want them to find you. You did want them to find you. It was almost hilarious. You tried to smile with your cut lip but found the action too painful to manage.

You didn’t want to die at twenty-eight. You wanted to see your mom again, Adeline, Nicole, hell, you wanted to go to work one more time. You rolled onto your stomach and cringed the way the fluffy comforter grazed the bleeding “X” on your chest. You reached for the morphine drip and rolled it closer as you slowly turned a knob and upped the intake. Your shaking hands then moved to the sandwich on the nightstand with a sigh.

She could kill you when they found you, but if she thought you weren’t going to try and manipulate the situation, she was dead wrong. You weakly bit into the sandwich while trying to think of a plan.

You refused to die without leaving a mark.

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