#spencer whump

[emberfrostlovesloki]

Dolls World [Spencer x Reader]

Photo Credits: Left (@starvingphilosofer) Center (@heyvs) Right (@anjukaji)

Prompt: A kidnapper is kidnapping women and torturing them. When y/n gets taken, Reid does everything he can to save her, but it’s too late. 

Pairing: Spenver x BAU-Reader

Category: Angst/Whump/No Happy Ending. 

Word Count: 11.1K

Content Warnings: Kidnapping, burns, torture [reader], intimidation, fear, submission. 

A/N: Hi all! I hope you are all doing very well! I know it has been a long, long time since I’ve posted, and that’s for many reasons that I don’t want to get into today. I return with a hecking long Spencer fic, and I hope you enjoy it. That being said, thank you to everyone who has kept up with me, or to any new readers or followers! Please be kind to yourselves this week and do something you love, you are so special. If you enjoy this fic, likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated! P.s. I haven’t edited this a lot for grammar, I’m just now jumping back into writing, sorry for any major errors. Love Levi - ❤️ 

List with all stories 

y/n = your name 

y/h/c = your hair color 

y/e/c = your eye color 

y/l/n = your last name 

As Spencer listened to the witness give his comments on finding the body in the field, his breath billowed up like smoke in the cold autumn morning. He shivered slightly and wrapped his arms around his slender frame, and locked back into the conversation. “Yeah. When I saw the body at first, I thought it was some kind of prank. It looked like a mannequin, and I got out of my truck to put it in my truck bed to haul it to the dump. It was when I touched the body that I realized it was a person in there.” The rugged-looking man shuddered at the memory of the cold, clammy skin of the victim. Reid nodded along. It must have been a real shock. He cleared his throat and asked, “What did you do when you realized it was a person?” The man shuffled on the ground and replied, “Well, I called the cops, of course. What else was I supposed to do?” Spence nodded again and asked, “You said you thought this might be a prank. Do people play pranks on your property often? Would you say you have any enemies?” The man let out a nervous laugh and replied, “Every now and then. There are some damn kids down the road that have done a thing or two. Vandalism, letting the chickens out, but they wouldn’t do whatever… whatever this is.” The comment couldn’t stop Spence from looking back at the victim and cringing harshly. 

y/n was close to the body, leaned up against a fence with a camera documenting every odd element of the victim. The bright flash only made the scene more eerie. The light flashed off the porcelain mask that was half slipped off the young woman’s face. Apart from the mask, which had a shocking likeness of the victim's face except for its paleness, and the outfit, like that of a little girl, nothing seemed to be wrong with the body. The woman’s eyes were open, glazed over, and staring into the sky that was cloudy and threatening to rain at any moment. Reid couldn’t help but look at y/n for a moment longer as she nimbly knelt on the ground to take the shots needed for further examination. The man standing beside Spencer cleared his throat, and the genius whipped his head forward again as the man asked, “So, are we done?” Dr. Reid let out a soft breath and nodded yes. Being given the all clear, the man moved away and down the gravel path toward the small barn on his property in upstate New York. 

Derek rambled up toward the lean agent and said, “Imagine how Garcia’s gonna be when she gets a load of this.” Spencer didn’t want to think about that and just gave a soft grunt as a response. Morgan furrowed his brows and asked, “What’s wrong, pretty boy? Not in a talking mood.” Derek followed Spence’s gaze to y/n, who was now talking to Emily and Hotch about the victim. Morgan let out a chuckle and commented lightly, “You know you could just tell her, Reid. The worst thing is that she says no.” Dr. Reid huffed and said, “That’s easy for you to say, Morgan; women seldom say no to you.” Derek was about to respond to Spence’s self-deprecation, but the pair was called over by Rossi as they were headed back to the station to regroup and deliver the profile now that they had his new piece of the puzzle. 

Back at the Idaho Presinct, McAllen Presinct, Aaron and Morgan stood at the front of the room. The rest of the team flanked them to add any needed information or grab anything either man needed. Hotch started by reintroducing the team and then jumping into the profile: “Good morning, and thank you for taking the time to listen to us. We’ll make this as brief as possible so you can get back to your shift and look for these missing women. The profile we’re about to give you may have some changing variables. The usefulness for you with this information is trying to find a suspect that matches said description we are about to give. Even a feeling is a good place to start with a case like this. 

Morgan stepped up and continued, “This case is made harder because of the vicinity to the border and, more importantly, the city of Juarez. The number of people fleeing that area due to the drug trade might be a great cover for the unsub or unknown subject. He might also be luring victims across the border with promises of sneaking them into the States. That’s a possibility, it’s also a possibility that one of the cartels is having a new initiation for new members of taking a mark and torturing them to death, which is already common practice with many gangs. Either way, the unsub has found a great place to kidnap and kill people. Aaron then spoke again, clarifying, “The unsub has a specific type of woman that he is looking for, as all of those taken so far have had y/h/c and y/e/c and a specific body type. These factors make it easier to identify possible targets, but so far, no correlation has been found between the missing women, and with the addition of the first body, it seems that there might be some kind of ritualistic element involved as a mask highly resembling the woman’s face was found on the body. We’re going to analyze the mask and see if anything comes from it. We will let you know. As for now, we suspect a white man in his thirties to fifties, with possible ties to the cartel, looking for women to exploit or for an unknown personal use. If you have any questions, please let Ms. Jareau or any of the team know, and we’ll be happy to answer them. That’s it for now, thank you for your time. 

The BAU did what they could with the limited knowledge they had so far about the victim and the unsub, but mostly it was a process of eliminating the primary and secondary cartel rings rather than outright finding a culprit. The guess was that the unsub was a domineering man who saw women as objects to control, but with machismo being such a large part of the culture in that part of Texas, that descriptor defined a lot of men’s views of women. It wasn’t until a spectral analysis of the mask that was found on the victim came back that any real progress was made. The mask was mostly made of plaster and reinforced porcelain, which was a strange find. Not only that, but a larger amount of terra cotta powder was found in the mix as well. As Aaron brought up this fact to the sheriff, the man nodded his head and replied, “Yeah, well, the terra cotta makes sense, there’s an abandoned saltillo and terra cotta plant on the far side of town. It’s mostly used for drug deals now, but I have no clue about it. Ain’t nobody I know around here that would use anything porcelain. Most stuff at the store is Talavera or plastic.” Hotch acknowledged the information and said, “Thank you, Sheriff. Morgan, Reid, y/n, I want you to go out and check out the grounds of that old kiln and factory. See if there’s any sign of life or the victims. Go in hot, we don’t know what this unsub is capable of yet.” The trio nodded and checked their gun holsters before moving out into the cold, bright Texas sun and toward the van. 

As Morgan, Spencer, and y/n moved southward, Aaron, Rossi, and Emily stayed behind to call around about the new leads and have Garcia work her magic on the new info. It was a nice feeling to have something to do after such a lull in the case. 

At the plant, the trio got out of the van that y/n had been driving and looked around the outside first. It was mostly dusty, with the sides of the metal and cement structure old and soot-covered from the fire of the kilns. The tall, brittle grasses moved slowly with the wind. As the team walked to the back of the large building, they saw a few junked-out cars that were rusting and had parts missing from under the hood. Most shocking, however, was a nondescript white Subaru that had no license plates and dark-tinted windows. y/n raised an eyebrow at Derek and Reid. Morgan pulled out his gun and said, “We’re not alone, it seems. Let’s head inside and see who we find.” The other agents slipped their guns out of their holsters and kept them lowered to the ground for safety as they slipped off the safety. 

Morgan took point and walked to the front of the building and tried to slowly open the door. Unfortunately, it gave out a loud creak, meaning that the person inside most likely heard their approach. Not wanting the unsub to possibly get away, Derek softly called, “Let’s split up. I’ll take the center, Reid, y/n you take left and right.” The other agents nodded as they threaded their way through rows and rows of shelves housing dusty orange stacks of tiles and shingles and all manner of pottery. There wasn’t a back door to the building, so the unsub only had one way out, through a member of the team. All of the lights in the building were out, and as y/n moved carefully along the side of the wall, trying to stay as hidden and shielded as possible. Plumes of silt and dust filled the air each time she took a step, and she had to pull her shirt over her nose to stop from coughing at the particulates filling her lungs. 

Reid was doing the same on the opposite side of the building. He felt something in his stomach twist, and he looked to his left. There was an old metal staircase that was roped off with a faded sign reading, “Mangers only.” He took a moment to asses. It was possible that the unsub was in one of the upper offices. However, Reid assumed that the kidnapper would have made noise if they had tried getting up the stairs, and he would have heard that. With that in mind, he continued moving forward toward the back of the building. The lanky agent was moving faster than Morgan or y/n as his sense of dread increased. He made it to the back of the building and saw the few small, sad windows letting in light into the dim space. Spencer turned around and wondered if the unsub was possibly upstairs. Just as he did this, he heard a creak from the upper level, but it was too late as a figure wearing a mask dropped from the second floor and onto Spencer. 

The figure wasn’t big, but the impact was enough of a surprise that Reid stumbled backward. The figure was holding a loaded gun and smacked Spencer on the temple hard enough to stun him and draw blood. Reid saw stars for a second and grunted. The sound of the commotion echoed through the large room, and y/n and Derek came running. As soon as they saw the figure on top of their friend with a gun pointed at his head, they both slowed and lowered their weapons. The masked figure said, “Good choice. You’re both going to do everything I say, or you’ll be cleaning your colleague's brains out of this dirt. If I even sense you’re trying to trick me I I’ll shoot, do you understand?” 

Helpless, Derek and y/n clearly nodded yes. The figure replied, “Good. You, girl, step over here nice and slow. I have the keys to the car in my back pocket. Come and get them. y/n shot a very small look at Morgan, who nodded for her to do as she was being told. y/n took a step forward, but the figure said, “Stop. First, take your gun and the other agent's gun and set them on the side of the wall over there.” The unsub just turned their chin over to the wall with the windows a few feet away. y/n sighed and disarmed Morgan. She was slow and cautious with her steps. She made sure the unsub could see the weapons with each step so the person wouldn’t do anything to Reid. As soon as the first task was done, y/n continued slowly and painfully doing as she had been told. She didn’t step too close to Spencer, even though she wanted to see how the genius was. Instead, she kept a wide breadth and moved behind the sub. The person was a woman as y/n got closer to the figure. It was obvious despite her baggy clothing. y/n moved her hand to the woman’s back left pocket and fished out the keys. 

Once the keys were free of the unsub's pocket, she said, “Good, now go stand back by the other agent. If I see you do anything with those keys I’ll remind you again that I have a happy trigger finger.” y/n nodded and again moved back to Derek’s side. Both Morgan and y/n cringed, and the woman pistol-whipped Spencer in the head, rendering him unconscious and bleeding in the dirt and silt. The woman then pointed the gun at Morgan and said, “Alright, you two. Move slowly toward the door If either of you try shit it’s curtain for all three of you. Now put your hands above your head and start walking along the left-hand side wall in a single file. The girl goes first. The agents did as told, even though it went against every instinct in their bodies to leave Reid on the ground like this. When Morgan got to the wall, he felt the barrel of the unsub’s gun at his back pressing into the fabric of his shirt. Both y/n and Derek considered how much of a distraction and damage could happen if they could only throw or tip one of the tile-laden shelves over. However, there was too much risk in such an act. No matter what they’d thought of the unsub before, she was far more accomplished than either of them had ever expected. Once the painful process of getting to the door of the building was finished, the woman barked, “Alright, stop both of you.” Both agents again complied, and without any notice, the unsub hit Derek on the head like she had with Reid. The tall athletic agent crumpled to the ground and y/n whipped around to retaliate, but again was met with the barrel of a loaded gun. 

y/n was pissed off that both of her friends had been harmed and asked, “You better have a grand plan here.” There was a scoff and a look of defiance behind the eyes of the unsub who replied, “Oh, I’ve got plans for you. You’re just his type. Now, little miss, here’s what’s going to happen. You’re going to get into that car while I have this little toy pointed at you the whole time. I’ll get into the passenger seat, and you’re going to drive and follow my directions. And don’t think that I’m not willing to kill a fucking FBI agent. There are lots of women that I can use for him, but I think he’s really gonna like you. So let’s get this show on the road before either of your friends wakes up.” The unsub gestured with her chin, a sharp and jagged movement for y/n to move toward the car, which y/n did. y/n kept her hands above her head as she walked. She squinted into the harsh sun as her eyes adjusted to the brightness, which contrasted with the dark of the building interior. 

In the car, y/n carefully turned the key once her captor was inside, the unsub's gun pointed at y/n’s head the whole time. y/n kept her hands steady on the wheel and eyes on the dusty, barely paved roads they were traveling down. The first hour was very stressful and y/n had the feeling that at any might her brains might be blown out of her head. However, after that, the unsub seemed to start to fidget a bit. It seemed she was uncomfortable in her seat with the sun in her eyes and hot with her mask covering her mouth and nose. After a few more minutes, the woman gave up and took off the fabric covering her face, and took a deep breath. y/n still didn’t look at the woman but could tell something had shifted. All the bravado was wearing off as the woman’s adrenaline waned. y/n felt that if she kept not engaging and just doing as told, the unsub would break soon. True to her prediction, a few minutes later the woman said in a shaky voice, “I’m sorry for what’s gonna happen to you. I really am, but I can’t let him down.”

y/n took a split second to look at the blonde-haired woman who looked more like a suburbanite than a kidnapper. y/n placed her gaze back on the paved road and replied. “You don’t have to do this. Whoever makes you do it, we can stop them. We can keep you safe. We’re alone, all you have to do is let me call my team. You have me as collateral already, why not get help?” The unsub was struggling now as she tried not to cry as she replied, “I can’t. I’m sorry, but you’re life isn’t worth what not doing this will cost you. Now, no more talking. You can’t change my mind, just know that I’m sorry.” y/n’s hands tightened on the wheel of the car, with the way the woman was talking, perhaps there was hope of getting out of this situation before it got too out of hand. Now, what it came down to was timing. As much as y/n was concerned for herself, she couldn’t stop thinking about Spencer and how he’d looked sprawled out on the ground, blood quickly pooling below his head. The image was going to haunt her until she knew that he was okay. 

y/n and Spencer’s history was complicated by many things. The first was that when y/n had first joined the team, the genius was just coming off Dilaudid, and he had seen y/n’s hiring as a challenge to his role on the team. Therefore, he’d been a bit more than standoffish for a few months, and that had created tension between the team. Finally, Reid saw the failure of his actions and apologized, but the damage to their relationship had been done. It took months for the two younger members of the team to fully mesh. Then they had meshed and meshed well, and Spencer felt stupid for having been so rude at the start of their working relationship. They’d become pretty good friends and then, with a bit of hesitation from Spencer, went on a few dates. It was fun and it felt safe, and so when y/n had asked if he’d wanted to take it further, to try at more commitment, Spencer had gently rejected the idea. He had been too comfortable with what they had to want to risk losing it. That choice had hurt y/n, but she understood where Reid was coming from. After all, he was still only getting his feet back under him from his ordeal with drugs, but that didn’t mean that y/n didn't hold out hope that one day they might be something more. Now, as she got farther and farther away from the team and moved toward the unknown, she prayed that Spence was alright and that he’d find her. Deep down in her heart, she knew that somehow Spencer would always find her in one way or another. 

Reid’s head was pounding, and it felt all fuzzy. Even the low voices in the background seemed distant and far off, even though he knew they were right above him. Then suddenly, like a switch had been flipped, he came back to awareness. He was strapped to a gurney being wheeled toward an ambulance, and the bright light of the outside momentarily blinded him. That didn’t stop him from trying to sit up, but one of the paramedics held his shoulder down and said, “Hold on there, buddy. Everything is going to be okay.” Reid tried to respond, but his mouth felt like cotton. Thankfully, Emily saw him gain awareness, and she and Rossi moved over to his side as he got closer and closer to the ambulance. With some effort, Spencer said, “Where are Morgan and y/n?” Emily shot Rossi a look before replying, “Derek’s already on the way to the hospital. It looks like he got hit a little harder than you.” Spencer nodded, eyes wide, waiting for a comment about y/n. It seemed to take a moment before Rossi then said, “And y/n, well, she got taken by the unsub.” Reid’s eyes went wide, and he repeated, “She was taken?” Emily nodded yes, but quickly said, “But we have a lot of information about the unsub now. Morgan was able to tell us a lot before he was carted off. We have a BOLO on the car, and I’m sure we’ll find y/n soon.” As sure as Spencer was that the BAU was doing everything they could to find y/n a pit of dread formed in his stomach like a thorn in his side, but he didn’t have time to ask for more details as he was loaded into the transport vehicle with Rossi shouting, “We’ll see you at the hospital,” before the doors were closed. 

Before Aaron or Dave even got to the hospital, Reid had been told to lie back down three times as he tried to get up and get some more paper. He was going through sheets and sheets of it, as the drugs he was on were making it hard to remember important details about the unsub. When Hotch did arrive, the leader of the BAU considered saying, “Are we writing a memoir now, Reid?” but refrained. Aaron knew that Spence’s relationship with y/n was complicated. Instead, he just gave the facts they had so far. “y/n’s phone was thrown out of the unsub’s car seventy miles from the warehouse. Garcia is triangulating the area to see if she can find out any more information. Morgan told us what happened to him. I’d like to hear your side of things.” Spencer nodded and looked at his notes, and jumped into his side of things, speaking at a mile a minute. In some moments, Aaron had to slow the agent down so he could catch up with what was being said. 

The hospital had diagnosed Reid with a minor concussion and was required to hold him for seven hours just to make sure that he didn’t have any worse effects than a headache and some blurred vision every now and then. The same thing applied to Morgan, who was also very anxious about getting out of his uncomfortable hospital bed and finding the person who had taken y/n. When he described his experience with the unsub to Emily, he had said, “You know she was such a small figure, I didn’t think she’d have the power to knock me out like that. I mean, her hands looked neat and clean, almost like she had her nails done. That’s not the type of person I expect to be out kidnapping women. I mean she drive a freaking Subaru!” Em had nodded and tried to calm Derek, who kept speaking. “I thought for sure when I came to that y/n would be right there with us, or outside somewhere.” There was a look of sadness and disappointment on Morgan’s face. Emily knew immediately that he must feel like he had failed y/n in some way. The brunette-haired agent stepped forward and placed a reassuring hand on Morgan’s shoulder and said, “We’ll find her. Derek. We’re gonna get her back or die trying.” 

It felt like hours since y/n had been told to drive and just keep driving. The gas can was almost empty now, and y/n’s own energy reserves had long since left. It was hard for her to even keep her eyes on the road. Thankfully, after over four and a half hours of driving on unnamed roads, the captor and captive arrived at a quaint farmhouse with a white picket fence and an old red Ford parked out front. The house seemed to be three stories with a few pretty windows, and a mother-in-law's house a few feet from the outside of the main home. There was something about that space that leaked an eerie cold into y/n’s bones. Instinctively, y/n shivered and looked back at the main house. There was a little less comfort there, but at least it was better. 

The voice of the unsub shocked y/n back into awareness as she said, “Funny, everyone who comes here has that reaction. Maybe I should have know there was something wrong with him, but I’m just a mom, there’s not much I could do at this point.” y/n furrowed her brows. This was valuable information being given, but she was just too exhausted for the pieces weren’t quite lining up in her head to make a coherent picture. Agent y/l/h did see the large blond-haired man; she was assuming this was the unsub’s husband came up to the driver’s side door of the car. y/n knuckles turned white on the steering wheel. This was a make-or-break moment, maybe she could talk her way out of this, or make a run for it. The image of the woman with the doll mask flashed in front of her, and for a second, y/n considered that there might be a fate worse than death waiting for her inside one of those houses. However, the cold barrel of the woman’s pistol at the temple of her head was enough to remind her she was a federal agent, and she might not be the last victim of this pair of killer kidnappers. If it didn’t end well for her, perhaps it would mean she’d be able to save another woman put in the same position. Not that she thought she was going to die. She was going to do everything in her power to stay alive. 

The man got to the car quickly and opened the door to the car. He made no introductions as he dragged y/n from the seat of the car by her wrists and slipped them into a pair of zip cuffs. When this was done, the man dragged y/n toward the front door of the main house. The man was wearing a bandana that covered his nose and mouth. He hardly looked at y/n as they moved inside. y/n did her best to try and observe things around the first floor of the home. It seemed pretty sparse apart from some family photos and what was probably second-hand furniture that didn’t match at all. y/n looked at one of the photos near the steps up to the second and third floor. The picture showed the family smiling, though it didn’t reach anybody’s eyes but one of the little boys in the image. The mother and father were standing in the back, and each had a hand on a small boy. The father’s hand rested on the older boy’s shoulder while the mother’s dainty hands rested on the younger child’s plaid shirt. It was clear that y/n was looking too hard as her hair was yanked hard by the root, and the man manhandling her said, “Keep moving” in a gruff voice. 

y/n was pulled up all three flights of stairs. In the attic, y/n was hauled to the side of the room near the high window, and her hands were strung up by a hook hanging from the ceiling. The hook was high enough up that y/n’s feet didn’t have much purchase on the ground, and her arms strained as they took most of her weight. She pulled her eyes away from the man who was fiddling with some more zip ties and tried to get a sense of her bearings. The room was large, and there were bottles of cloudy-looking liquids of various colors along with multiple masks like the one found on the victim’s body. From looking out the window, y/n could tell they were very far from anything close to a city. She wouldn’t be surprised if they were multiple towns over from McAllen at this point. The idea was upsetting. They hadn’t driven near any major cities, so it was unlikely that the car she was driving had been picked up on any cameras. The vials on the shelf were a start to something. They looked like embalming fluid that a mortician might use, so perhaps the team could find that helpful if traces were left at the site. y/n found it strange that embalming would be part of the process, as the first victim they had found hadn’t been embalmed. She was so freshly dead, in fact, that rigor mortis hadn’t even set in yet. 

As her legs were attached to the floor with new zipties and a chain, y/n wanted to beg for a chance to be let go, for anything else than what was happening at the moment. However, her tongue felt like lead in her mouth. She tried to say anything but coughed as a rag was roughly pushed in her mouth, followed by a long strip of duct tape over her lips. y/n struggled against the intrusion in her mouth and was quickly rendered blind as a blindfold was placed over her eyes. It became apparent to y/n that something was on the rag as her head felt woozy and she lost consciousness. 

Reid was out of the hospital and panicking over y/n. He hadn’t sat down or stopped moving for hours, even though the doctors had prescribed rest for the next week. Morgan was looking at the tire imprints and had matched them with the type of car the unsub drove, however, the popular model made the information almost useless. Frustrated and upset at not being able to make more progress, Spencer half yelled, “There has to be more. This can’t be all there is.” Hotch looked at the genius from across the table and said, “Reid, calm down. Getting worked up won’t help y/n or anyone else.” At the command, Spence slammed his hands on the table and snapped, “Don’t tell me how to feel, Hotch. I was there, you weren’t.” At the sudden hostility, Rossi quickly stood and said, “Okay, okay, okay, I think it’s time we had a breather outside.” The older agent stood and took Spencer’s arm in his and led the lean man outside the doors of the police station. Reid was flushed and crumpling the medical report he had been holding at the time as he tried to calm down. It was proving harder than he had anticipated. As he and Dave walked in an awkward silence down the empty street, Reid considered that perhaps all of his pent-up feelings for y/n were getting to his head, and her being taken had broken the dam to those buried emotions. 

y/n woke when she was roughly pushed by the shoulder. She grunted against her gag and could see that it was bright outside, possibly a whole day had elapsed since she had gotten to the home of the unsubs. Her blindfold was ripped off along with some strands of her hair, and she blinked back against the brightness of the morning light. It was the man again. It seemed she was going to be working mostly with him for a while, since she was here. That wasn’t a calming thought as he seemed much more guarded -- to the point that he was still wearing a mask to hide his face, even though she’d seen it in the family pictures already. 

The man stepped forward and lowered y/n’s arms from the hook holding them up, and she collapsed to the ground. Her upper limbs ached so much as the blood flowed back down her arms. y/n grunted from the pain as she tried to decide if this hurt more or less than having them raised. Without waiting for y/n to get adjusted, the man stepped back and grabbed some clothes from the floor and tossed them at y/n, stating, “Put these on, now.” y/n shakily looked at the clothes and saw that it was a maid's dress with stockings and long socks along with an apron. y/n didn’t like the look for this and what it meant for her, so she gave a protesting grunt and shook her head no. The male unsub didn’t seem surprised by this as he leaned down and grabbed a bucket. He heaved back and forward and splashed y/n with cold water that shocked y/n into more awareness. 

The water wasn’t exactly cold, but it was so frigid in the attic that it hurt like pins and needles on y/n’s skin. She watched as goosebumps rose on her exhausted arms, and the man said, “You decide, freeze in those clothes or change. I’ll leave you to it.” The unsub moved back to the door, unlocked it with a key, stepped out of the room, and then disappeared. y/n heard the lock click again, and once the sound of steps was gone, y/n let herself sag to the wooden floor. She felt like her whole body was covered with pins and needles, either from the cold or her having been suspended for a few hours uncomfortably. Much to y/n's chagrin, she realized that if she didn’t want to feel like she was freezing to death, changing into the other outfit was the best idea. She crawled to the pile of clothes, grabbed them, and turned her back to the door. She wasn’t sure if the man was going to come back to check on her, but if he was, she wasn’t going to give him a full frontal view. She might be in a tricky situation, but she still had her dignity. With effort and shaking hands, y/n stripped off her wet shirt and pants and quickly changed into the dress. The stockings and long socks were a no-go, but she used them to dry off as much as possible. When that was done, she instantly felt better and then tried to assess her tenable situation further. 

Rossi was looking at and updating the profile. He was tapping his pen against his chin when Aaron came up beside him and said, “Anything new, Dave?” Rossi looked at Hotch and then back to the board; “Well, the unsub being a caucasian isn’t a surprise, having it be a woman is. Though I think it’s most likely a team rather than just one person. The problem with that is that is that then we get more into the drug and cartel territory. It could be a gang initiation type of thing after all.” Hotch nodded along and said, “Women in the cartel aren’t unheard of.” Dave sighed and said, “I know. This is so frustrating, and I’m worried about Reid’s judgment, and not because he has a minor concussion right now.” Now it was Aaron’s turn to sigh, and he peeked over at Spencer, who was on the phone with Garcia. “I know. I’m going to have him, Derek, and Prentiss head back to the site where y/n was taken with some police and K-9 units and see if that can give us more leads. At least it will give Reid something to do. For now, all we can do is look at the records of the missing women who fit the profile so far and keep working. y/n’s tough, she’ll be doing everything she can to stay alive or get back here. 

It was a few hours before y/n was visited again by the man. He seemed agitated, and so was y/n. She was hungry and had to pee in the corner of the room in a bucket that had been placed there, she assumed, for her use. No matter that the act itself felt degrading. y/n had looked out the window, assessed her situation over and over again. All of her gear, including her badge, had been taken. She tried to get out of the zip ties holding her legs, but they were too strong for her to break, and there were no tools for her to reach in the attic. It seemed her only means of escape right now was going to be talking with the male unsub. 

y/n straightened when the man entered the room. She stood up to show that she wasn’t so tired that she couldn’t at least do that. He was carrying a metal folding chair and what looked like a cattle prod. y/n had never seen one before, but she could assume. She swallowed thickly when she made that observation. Not wanting to lose her nerve, y/n started talking, at first a bit shakily, but then recovering quickly: “I was speaking to your partner before, as I was driving her. I told her, and I’ll tell you the same thing. You don’t have to do this. There are programs. You can both get help from the government if you help me.” The man was now setting up the folding chair in the center of the room and chalking a small white circle about an inch away from each of the four legs. He acted as if he couldn’t hear y/n. Not deterred, y/n continued talking, saying, “You know it’s going to be different this time. I’m a federal agent. I can’t just disappear and not come back. My team, they’re looking for me. The BAU has some of the best FBI members in the nation. We were called here to find you, and I found you. I sure a hell don’t plan on letting you take more women. Not while I’m alive.” y/n realized that her last sentence might have been stupid, but she was scared and all she could think of was the face of the woman with the mask, and the face of her teammates. Yes, they drove her crazy sometimes with their antics and snooping into her personal life, but she realized now that she missed them so much. As hard as she tried to see all of them clearly, Spencer’s handsome, sharp face always stayed the longest and clearest. 

y/n was lost in that thought but snapped out of it when the man said sharply, “Sit, now.” y/n bit the inside of her mouth and was about to protest, but the man could see this and said, “Sit or you get 7,000 volts in that pretty hide of yours.” The man had picked up the cattle prod and turned it on and upped the level of electricity running through its prongs. y/n could hear its eerie hum from where she stood. Not wanting a very painful experience, y/n had once been tasered in her N.A.T. days; she did as she was told. The unsub nodded, almost happily as he said, “Now, you’ll sit still, back straight and head up and not move. No moving, no talking.” y/n opened her mouth to say something, but the man held the cattle prod dangerously close to her face. Realizing the man wasn’t joking, nor was he planning on moving anytime soon, y/n did as told again. She realized with a sinking feeling that this situation wasn’t getting any better. For now, all she had on her side was time and the fact that only one victim had been found, which could mean that the unsub was still pretty bad at this and might slip up sometime. 

It had been over an hour, and y/n’s head felt so heavy holding it up that she thought she might faint. The unsub seemed to have no plans of leaving or losing focus as he still had the cattle prod pointed at y/n. Much to y/n’s misfortune, a small piece of dust got breathed in, and she tried to stop herself from sneezing, but couldn’t. After sneezing, the man moved forward and pressed the prod into her side, sending a huge bolt of electricity through y/n, making her jolt in the chair. y/n cried out in pain and said, “FUCK.” The unsub was unhappy about this and hit y/n again with the wand. y/n felt the searing pain go through her again as her body jerked momentarily. The unsub said, “And you were doing so good, bitch. Now we have to start again. What did I say about not moving? Now sit the fuck up and don’t say a word again. I know it hurts, that’s why I’m doing it. No words of pity from you either, I don’t care.” Tears and snot streamed down y/n’s face as she tried to do as told. It hurt so much she wanted to whimper. She had a feeling it was going to be a very long day. 

The BAU was at a house an hour away from McAllen’s city center. The first victim had been identified by their family, and the team had gone out to question the members and see if there were any ties between y/n and the woman found in the field. Aaron, Rossi, and Emily were talking with the parents while Spencer, Derek, and JJ were in the victim’s room speaking with her little brother. Spencer was on the floor and was asking questions of the little boy who was playing with a toy horse. “You were talking about your sister, Caira. That she liked to go out without telling your mom and dad?” The boy nodded and replied, “Yeah, I’d see her sometimes when I was up late watching TV. She’d give me some chocolate or candy to keep quiet about her going out. I think she had a boyfriend or something, she went and said… yucky.” Reid chuckled. He had a feeling that the boy wasn’t supposed to be staying up late watching TV either, but he didn’t say anything about that now. The comment about a boyfriend stuck, and he couldn’t help but wonder if that was significant. 

Spencer asked, “Why do you think she had a boyfriend?” The kid looked up and said, “Ugh. I guess she always talks about it. She thinks she’s old and will never get married. That seems to be the only thing my mom and dad talk about with her sometimes.” Here, JJ stepped forward and asked, “Oh, really? My mom and dad never did that for me. Do they seem happy or sad when they talk to Caira about having a boyfriend?” The boy paused his playing and furrowed his small brow before saying, “Mad. My sister wants to go out and date, but they want her to court, whatever that is.” Spencer looked at JJ and then around the room, the multitude of crosses told a story of high control and religious belief. Perhaps this was one of those families that expected women to stay at home until they were married, and dating was off the table unless it was under the guise of courting. JJ swallowed hard. She’d had friends who were in those kinds of situations, and it never seemed like a good situation. That uncomfortable feeling did give them both an idea where to look next: the church the family attended. 

y/n had spent all day being cattle prodded and sitting as still as possible, but not still enough to not be tazed. When she was left alone, she had just enough energy to pull up her skirt and see the burn scar where the electric current had entered her body. She cringed and then lay on the ground and let herself fall asleep. The next morning, y/n was woken by the sound of an augment just outside the door to the attic. She could hear the male unsub say, “It’s too soon. She’s not ready.” And then the woman who had taken her responded, “We have to! He’s asking for another new one, and you know how he gets.” There was a big sigh from the man that sounded like a concession, and then the door opened. The man was holding the cattle prod and some scissors, and y/n cringed at the sight of the items. Her body was so cold and stiff from yesterday that she could hardly move. The woman stepped forward and said, “We’re going to move you to where you’re going to be from now on. If you do well, when he’s not in the room, you can do as you please, eat, and even use the bathroom. This is a tester run for you, so don’t fuck it up.” y/n swallowed and wondered who this mysterious “he” was. Was there a third unsub? It was all highly unusual, and that was saying something for a BAU case. 

The man set the cattle prod aside and stepped close, cutting y/n’s zipties holding her feet to the ground. y/n knew that now was the time to fight, to run for it. Even two against one, she could make an attempt, but she was so tired. The lack of food and treatment from yesterday had left her with no reserves. In fact, she was shocked that she was awake right now. The man grabbed her hair and pulled her face up. He looked at the woman and said, “Give me the mask.” The female unsub stepped forward, and to y/n’s dismay, she was holding the masks that the first victim had been wearing. It wasn’t perfect, but it had an uncanny resemblance to her face. The man slipped the two elastic straps over her head, and the mask fit snugly to y/n’s face. The eyes had been cut out so y/n could see, and breathing holes drilled for the nose and mouth. Once this was done, the man looked at the woman and said, “You take her and explain the rest. You want the cattle prod?” The female unsub nodded no and replied, “No. You know I hate that thing. I’ve got my gun. I’ll just use that.” The man sighed and replied, “Fine, as long as you don’t get trigger-happy,” before standing and leaving the room. 

y/n was led out the door on shaky feet and legs. She felt like she might vomit, but stopped herself before doing so in the restrictive mask was a recipe for disaster. The eye holes weren’t very large on the face covering either, so it was hard to use her peripheral vision to see more than what was just in front of her. However, y/n didn’t need any of those things to feel the pistol at the base of her spine. She stumbled her way out to the smaller house just across from the main house. As soon as y/n got into the smaller home, she felt a huge amount of dread press on her chest. Everything was immaculate, and the scent of candles permeated the room. Not only was that unnerving enough, but the worst thing was the fact that there were three other women, also with masks, sitting in the chairs at the main table, looking either blankly out the window, the wall, or the clock. All three women, also wearing masks, turned their heads, nodded robotically at the woman and y/n’s entrance, and went back to their blank stares. y/n felt sick. It was like there was nothing left of the women in the room. y/n didn’t have much time to think about it as she was pushed into another room that was functioning as a dining room. There was a small table with four chairs, a window, and a cabinet full of china. There were lots of candles in candelabras on the dark wood table, dripping wax onto the surface. The female unsub led y/n to the corner of the room and said, “You stand here. You don’t move. No matter who or what comes into this room, you don’t do anything. If you want to live through the day, you’re going to do this. If you need to use the facilities, there’s a bathroom upstairs. Don’t take more than ten minutes before you’re back in this room. We have cameras everywhere, so don’t think that you can just try and run. My husband, as much as a pussy as he is, will shoot you if you step a foot out of this house. If you do as I say, I’ll give you some food tonight and let you sleep in an actual bed. 

y/n nodded and mentally agreed to do as told. She was still very convinced that the team was doing everything to find her, and she’d rather be found dead than alive. Given the last two days, y/n these unsubs were people who didn’t joke around or do power plays for fun. If they said something, they meant it. y/n moved to the corner and stood still, head up and back straight. The other woman in the room seemed to relax as she said, “Good. He’ll like that. He might not pay attention to you today, but you should pay attention to him.” With those cryptic words, the unsub moved out of the room. 

Meanwhile, an hour away in McAllen, the team was approaching a mortuary on the far side of town. They were very sure they had found the correct business that the unsub team lived in. The funeral home and morgue were split-level. Rossi and Spencer had noticed he oddities around a man in the Jehovah’s Witnesses records. That was the denomination that the first unsub had subscribed to and the services she had attended. The man, Rory McPine, had seemed a normal man on the surface, but looking into him more, his business seemed shady. He worked with a lot of chemicals, including porcelain and iron, another red chalking substance like terra cotta. There was also the money laundering and the one attempted trespassing charge that had been dismissed, oddly. The nail in the coffin of the team's assumption? The family home that Rory had tried to trespass on was next to the first victim's home. There was a young woman living there who was the same age as the first victim, and she attended the same church as the other two had. The facts all pointed to him. As the team screeched in front of the funeral home, Aaron stepped out and grabbed a megaphone, saying, “Rory McPine, come out of the building with your hands up. We have you surrounded.” 

Back at the small house, y/n was still standing in the corner of the room and looking out the window. Interestingly, another car had pulled up, and a woman got out of the car with a bottle of wine and what looked like a sympathetic demeanor. y/n thought about running forward and yelling for help, but she stopped herself. Maybe this was a test, and there was the fact that the female unsub had threatened death by shotgun, which y/n didn’t fancy either. After a short while, the sound of the door opening made y/n hyper-aware. After a second, a young boy with a life-size doll came into the room and sat down at the table. One of the other victims came in shortly after with a tray that held a glass of juice, an apple, and what smelled like a bowl of Kraft Mac and Cheese. The woman set the tray down in front of the boy and then silently moved back out of the room. It wasn’t the food that y/n was looking at, however, even if she did feel very, very hungry. What had her attention was the child-like “doll in the room.” As y/n kept looking at the item, she started for very much believe that the doll wasn’t a doll at all. Instead, she surmised that it was a child that had died and been turned into some kind of abhorrent plaything for the living boy in the room. y/n now knew what was going to happen to her. She was to become one of these things, like the other women in the room. She and the team had been wrong. The unsubs hadn’t had much experience; they’d had so much experience that they didn’t miss anymore, and she was to be their next collectible. 

Outside the funeral home, Rory was being taken back to the station for an interview. JJ and Spencer were going with the police, and the rest of the BAU stayed behind to process the scene the find y/n. But they wouldn’t find her here or in McAllen at all. But they weren’t to know that for a few hours yet. In the freezing interrogation room, Reid and JJ were playing good cop, bad cop with the supposed unsub. Even though Spencer didn’t look that intimidating, he could be very scary when he wanted to be, and he was doing a stellar job of that now. He wasn’t wasting any time trying to get y/n back. He slammed his hands against the hard table, making it and Rory jump as he shouted, “WHERE IS Y/N!” The man sat back, in p daze, and said, “Like I said, I’ve never heard or seen this woman before in my life.” Reid huffed and let JJ take a chance as the softer spoken liaison moved forward and asked, “Fine, you’ve never heard of agent y/l/n, but you have heard and seen Gillian Kary as fast as last weekend ago. Why were you trying to get on her property unseen? That’s not normal.” The man flushed and muttered something under his breath before Spencer shot him a glare that could melt lava. Rory sighed and said in an ashamed voice, “We’re swingers. If the church ever found out I was sleeping with a married woman, it would be curtains for me, but it’s looking like it’s curtains for me already anyway. I might as well throw my spiritual reputation in with the kitchen sink, too.”

At this revelation, even Spencer couldn’t keep up his tough guy facade, and he said, “You’re a swinger, really?” The man nodded, not having noticed Spencer’s change in tone as he replied, “I didn’t think I’d like that kind of life, but ever since my wife died, I’ve been lonely. When Gillian told me she had an open relationship, how could I refuse?” JJ and Spencer looked at each other with shocked expressions, and Reid asked, “What evidence do you have of this affair, and are you having affairs with other women in the area?” Again, Rory nodded, defeated as he laid out the complicated details of his personal life. It was like listening to a novella. When the interrogation was finished, Spencer called the team to give them the update and see if they’d found anything yet, though at this point he doubted it. There was a tone of despair with him as he made the call. They were no closer to finding y/n than they had been four hours ago. 

It was three agonizing days later until the tip came in from one of the unsubs themselves that led the team to the horror that was the Castel house. Derek had picked up the tipline phone when it had started ringing, and right away, he knew this was different. The tone was frantic, desperate as the woman on the other end of the line said, “I know where your missing agent is. You have to come here, fast.” Morgan flagged the rest of the team as he put the women on speaker and hit the record button. Derek cleared his throat and said, “Alright, stay calm. Where are you, and is the missing agent with you?” The woman said softly, “517, West Circle Dr. Hialgo, TX.  78692.” As soon as the address was given, Derek handed the phone off to an officer. Aaron already had the spot pulled up on GPS, and Garcia had transferred the phone to Spencer’s cell so he could still talk to the unsub as long as possible. Keep her distracted. 

In the vans, Reid asked, “Why call now? What has you so spooked that you want help from the FBI?” The woman on the other end of the line took a shaky breath and said, “My son wants me dead. I can’t die like those things. He’s wanted me dead for years. Please, please hurry. My husband can only keep Jimmy distracted for so long.” Spence cared less about that than getting to y/n, but it was keeping him distracted. The addition of who might be a third unsub was surprising, but he kept his calm. That calm didn’t remain as the vans finally screeched to a halt in front of the unsub's idyllic-looking home. There were police choppers in the air, and the whole team, plus a squad of officers, got out. Even before Rossi could get on the megaphone, a woman came out of the main house with her hands up, along with a boy and what looked like his father from another smaller structure. The child, upon seeing his mother, ran and began kicking, screaming, and clawing at her chest and face. He did so hard enough to draw blood from the woman’s cheek. The mother figure tried to fight off the boy, but she didn’t have to as a police officer pulled the child away from the woman. Right after she was cuffed and the older man was as well. Spencer, who was standing next to Derek, demanded of the woman, “Where are your victims. Where! Are! They!” The woman looked shocked but nodded her head toward the small house. Reid didn’t take any time to wait, or think, or do anything else but run to the little home and burst open the door to look for y/n. 

Thankfully, there was no bobby trap or deception, a he hardly noticed the other women who hadn’t moved much, even though there seemed to be chaos outside. In the central room, Reid found y/n. She was standing by the wall and looking out the window with no apparent response. Her mask was still on, and she was wearing a pristine maid outfit. Her left hand clung to a medical stand that had an IV attached. Spencer noticed it going into her arm, and he found this distressing. But what was most distressing was that y/n didn’t seem to notice him at all, even as he got close and called her name; there was no response. When Aaron and Emily entered the room and took in everything else, she still just stood stock still, not saying or moving at all. The only thing y/n seemed interested in doing was looking out the window with a distant gaze. 

In an attempt to get y/n to feel more comfortable, Spencer gently moved his hands up to her mask to remove it, but as soon as he attempted to pry it from her face, a horrifying realization hit him. The mask had been glued directly to her skin. There were breathing holes for her mouth and nose, and blank spots for her eyes, but the rest of her face was fully covered. It explained the need for an IV, but not what Reid could do to remove the mask. He turned to Aaron, mouth agape as he said in a whisper, “She needs 9-1-1.” Hotch nodded and replied, “They’re already on their way. ETA five minutes.” Aaron looked just as horrified as Spencer did, perhaps for different reasons, but Reid couldn’t look at his boss's face any longer like that. He turned back to y/n, who was back at the window looking out again, like it was her job. Even though it was against protocol, Reid took a chair from the side of the room and placed it behind y/n. He gently touched her hand and said, “Hey, y/n. It’s Spencer, why don’t you try and sit down for a minute? You must be tired standing like that all the time.” There was only silence, and when Reid gently pushed y/n into the seat of the chair, she only stayed for half a second before she was standing again. With nothing left to do but wait, Reid just stood by y/n, hoping in some way he could offer her some support, even if she didn’t know it was him, which was increasingly becoming a possibility. 

The next day, Spencer was waiting for news from the hospital, and Rossi and Emily were with the female unsub to get her story. The woman looked defeated; she’d already agreed to tell everything for a lighter sentence. Rossi was leaning forward on the table and said, “So you’re telling me your oldest son, Jimmy, he’s the one behind all this. Forgive me if I don’t believe you that a twelve-year-old boy captured and turned ten adult women into some kind of doll.” The unsub sighed and said, “If he could, he would. He’s always been a cruel boy. He had a hard birth, maybe that started it all off wrong.” Emily frowned and said, “Forget about the birth. Get to the part where you start kidnapping women.” The other woman flinched and said, “It was after I had my second son. Jimmy hung around his father in that workshop. All those chemicals and cutting animals open to preserve them. I think he… he got ideas. When Ben was five, Jimmy, he.” It didn’t seem like the woman would be able to finish the sentence, but Em slammed her hands on the table, saying, “What did Jimmy do?” Tears were streaming down the woman’s face as she said, “He cut up Ben and tried to stuff him in his father's workshop. My husband found him and… couldn’t bear it, so he finished the job. Jimmy liked the idea, he wanted to do me next, so we’ve been finishing substitutes, you know. I’m still his mother, he needs me.” Rossi wasn’t impressed and he asked, “Do you really think the courts will forgive you because you tortured women into becoming playthings for your son. Just because you didn’t kill them didn’t mean you haven’t destroyed their lives. I hope you get the sentence that you deserve, and I hope you remember their faces every day of your life, however long it is.” With that, the pair left the room. They had what they needed, and a story that would keep them up for days as well. 

Meanwhile, in the hospital, Spencer, Aaron, and JJ waited for information about y/n. It felt like hours because it was hours before a doctor came and called the small group back to the hallway near the entrance to the emergency room. There was a bustle of activity near the swinging doors. The man looked weary as he said, “Ms. y/l/n is as stable as she can be at the moment. She hasn't been woken since her surgeries, but my guess will be that she will be fully unresponsive to stimuli, as you’ve stated she was before arriving at the hospital. Apart from the uncertainty of her mental state, it was necessary to stabilize her. She was malnourished and needed treatment for severe burns on her side. It seems she was electrocuted multiple times in the same spot, which resulted in needed treatment of the skin treatment. There was a long pause before the man said the worst of it. “As for the mask removal, it was possible, but latex glue was used, and that is highly corrosive to human skin. Removing i,t unfortunately, only worsens the condition of the dermis. Most of Ms. y/n’s facial skin has been removed. The team is looking at starting a skin graft, but we need to let the patient stabilize first. Her recovery, whatever it might be, will be long and painful. She won’t be the same once she wakes, I’m afraid. 

The team took in the information with varying responses. JJ looked like she was going to be sick. Aaron was as stoic as ever, and Spencer gritted his teeth so hard that he could have ground diamond with them. After a few deep breaths, Reid asked, “Can I sit with her?” Hotch almost said something, but stopped himself, his telling Spencer it would make no difference wouldn’t help the situation any. The doctor hesitated but nodded, and he and Reid walked back to the room together. Aaron was about to call the rest of the team and give them an update, but JJ stopped him before he could, saying, “Spence won’t be the same either. You know that, right?” Aaron didn’t have to say anything as he gave a stiff nod and then walked off to make the call to Rossi. 

In y/n’s room, Spencer sat close enough to touch y/n. He looked at her face, which was almost fully wrapped in medical gauze. No one was there to see Reid cry, sobbing into his own shoulder. He whispered to an unconscious y/n, “I’m going to fix this, I promise,” but deep down inside, Reid knew y/n, his y/n was gone forever. She would always be someone else’s doll. 

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We can't be friends, but I'd like to just pretend

Part 1 of We can't be friends (wait for your love) | See part 2 | See part 3

You and Spencer have convinced yourselves that you’re only meant to be friends despite the strong tension between you two. It only seems to intensify the longer you ignore it, eventually reaching its boiling point and forcing changes in the friendship.

Spencer Reid X Fem! Reader

(but no mentions of pronouns in this so it can be read as gn)

DISCLAIMER This story is SFW but it’s intended for mature audiences only. You are responsible for the content you consume. Make sure to read all necessary warnings. Please remember this is a work of fiction; if you don’t like it, don’t read.

WARNING Mentions of: Indirect peer pressure, alcohol/drinking/being drunk, very slight implicated SA (it doesn’t happen), serial killer, kidnapping, torture, murder, stalking, and threats. It’s all barely there and doesn’t really matter to the story tbh. Proceed at your own risk.

Word count: 9.3K See notes at end for authors note & spoilers.

Being in love is hard. Being in love with your best friend is harder. It’s a merciless form of torture really, devoting yourself entirely to the person you hold dearest to your heart, but they aren’t yours. It was almost masochistic, standing by to serve him in whatever way you thought he needed. Luckily, you weren’t a masochist. 

Not entirely, at least. 

You were there for him when he needed, offering whatever you had to give, but there were parts of you that you kept guarded. To protect yourself, but more importantly, to protect Spencer. It wasn’t uncommon for you to hear that you were ‘too much’ from passing lovers in your life. A certain level of detachment was necessary to ensure the safety of Spencer’s friendship. He was the most important person in your life. 

Maybe it was the multitude of degrees as a result of his intelligence. He never let you feel stupid or any less intelligent. 

Maybe it was the way his whole body lit up when he shared information he’d stored in that beautiful mind.

Maybe it was the charm in how goofily he carried himself. The way his hands would flail around when he spoke to keep up with the speed his brain moved at. 

Or maybe it was how he made you feel seen. 

How he always knew what to say, what to do. How he remembered little details about you, like how you preferred the window seat on the jet. And how he went out of his way to accommodate the details, like giving up the window seat just so you could sit in it. He was an unusually thoughtful man, with everybody he knew. 

That’s something you had to remind yourself of often. 

He’s like that with everybody. He has an eidetic memory, of course he remembers the little details. 

If only you knew how wrong you were. Spencer was a thoughtful man, there was no doubt about that. Sure he was gifted with an arguably incomparable memory, but unlike all the things he had no choice in remembering, he chose to remember the little details about you. To him you were the closest thing to a real life angel. 

It was the way you were the only person he’d ever met, willing to sit there and listen to him talk for hours. You’d go out of your way to show interest in the things he’d share, even if you didn’t actually have any interest in it.

The way he could swear he saw stars in your eyes whenever he stole an opportunity to stare into them. They would burn brighter if accompanied with the sweet sound of your laughter. 

He felt compelled to accommodate you. Especially when you light up the way you do from such minuscule actions on his part. Spencer loved being the person to bring out your smile, taking any excuse to try and coax one out of you. Even if he’d slightly inconvenience himself at times. His convenience mattered little to him because he knew how much you did for him too. 

Every morning before work you’d make the trip to his favourite coffee shop, getting him scones and coffee exactly to his liking because you knew he had a tendency to skip breakfast. His favourite coffee shop was a fifteen minute drive from your apartment and an extra twenty from Headquarters. You went out of your way to deliver it to him, even reheating the coffee yourself before handing it over. 

Spencer wasn’t alone in recognising your generosity. The entire sixth floor had noticed how both of you subconsciously performed acts of service for each other, even if nobody had brought it up to your faces. 

“I know that look.” Rossi remarks, turning his head towards his raven haired co-worker, eyes on you and Spencer.

“Yea..I just wonder if they know.” Emily mirrors his actions as she gives her own comment on the sight just a few feet in front of her. 

Neither of you realise you have spectators observing your conversation. You’re in your own little bubble at Spencer’s desk, the resident genius seated comfortably with his gaze on you as he speaks. Your focus is entirely on the man across from you, leaning in slightly, perched on the wooden surface. 

“Because stomach acid in the human body is typically 1-2 on the PH scale, it’s capable of dissolving metals such as certain types of stainless steels. Razors for example! The Gastrointestinal Endoscopy journal shared that scientists found that the thickened back of a single-edged blade dissolved just two hours of immersion in stomach acid!” His voice went up a pitch as he spoke and you couldn’t help but smile.

“So theoretically, an unsub could use a razor blade as a murder weapon and potentially eat it to dispose of it?” It was a relatively dumb question, but you just wanted to keep him talking. 

“Well, it’s possible, but realistically I don’t think a razor blade-” 

“Sorry to interrupt my younglings,” A colourful Garcia appears in your bubble and cuts Spencer off, “but I am here to let you know that the team will be going out for drinks, on Rossi, tonight! No exceptions!!”

When your head swivels to Garcia, you also notice the gawking pair not far behind her, shuffling off when they realise they’ve been caught staring. 

“I’ll come, but I won’t be drinking.” Spencer says with an awkward smile. They shift their sights on you for your response. 

“Sorry guys…I already have plans for tonight.” You purse your lips together apologetically. 

“What no! No, no, no! You know how rare these nights can be!” Garcia frowns and grabs your shoulders pleadingly.

“I knowwww…I’m sorry!!”

“Fine, fine, but at least share what’s keeping you busy tonight?” The blonde pokes.

You shift your eyes to Spencer, who’s just staring at you with a curious look and then back to Garcia. 

“Well I have a date-” You begin, but are interrupted by a whispered squeal.

Garcia begins a response, but stops herself when she spots a nonchalant Derek Morgan heading towards the elevators. “We will discuss this in detail during Saturday’s girls night. For now I will accept your excuse and remind you to dress your sexiest! Now excuse me while I go and intercept my sweet chocolate thunder.”

She grips you in a tight hug and scurries off after Morgan. The atmosphere shifts slightly, as you meet Spencer’s eyes awkwardly. 

“You have a date? Why didn’t you mention that” Spencer titters.

“I’m sorry, it just didn’t occur to me.” You try to lie, but Spencer’s expression gives away that he doesn’t believe you. “Okay, okay, I just didn’t wanna say anything because the last time I talked about one of my dates you got all weird and I didn’t want to upset you again.”

“Upset me? I was not upset.” He protests and folds his arms across his chest. 

“Okay what would you call it then?” 

“I wouldn’t call it anything.” 

“Oh really? So you’re not upset that I’m going on a date?”

“Nope. Not at all. I’m interested actually, tell me about him.”

You eye him carefully, trying to figure out where his head is at. Spencer has a tendency to get sassy when he feels defensive. 

“You’re interested? To hear about one of my dates?” You question with playful caution. 

“Yes. I’m always interested in things about you.” He spills. 

Your reaction to his words is immediate, a surprised jump in your features, but you manage to mask it almost just as fast. Spencer’s just as surprised as you. 

“I-I just mean- you know? Because yo-you’re my best friend.” He tries to play it off. 

There’s no way. 

You think to yourself. Spencer definitely didn’t mean it in that way. 

No he definitely didn’t. He just said so himself. You’re his best friend. Spencer Reid does not feel the same way about you.

It stings to admit to yourself, but it’s for the best. Spencer is a smart, handsome, wonderful man with so much to offer. You’re too much work, come with too much baggage, just too much.

“Yea, we’re best friends.” An affirmation more for yourself than him. 

A silence looms as you stare at each other stiffly. 

“Anyways, my date,” you decide not to linger on it for too long, “it’s with that guy I told you about, Nathan.”

“Nathan? Didn’t you go on a date with him last time?” A casual inquiry. 

“Yea!” You squeak enthusiastically, grateful that he had reverted back to his light-hearted self. 

This was something you deeply enjoyed about your friendship. The fact the two of you could flow back into casual conversation no matter what.

“So it’s a second date?”

“Yes! The first one went really well, so I thought why not agree to a second when he asked?”

“That’s good. I’m happy for you.” 

His approval should feel better than it does. For some reason, it makes you uneasy. Almost as if you don’t want him to approve. 

He has approved though, meaning he isn’t against you dating other people. He doesn’t want you the same way.

“Really?” You want to be sure, scared that you might put him off again.

“Yes! Really! If you’re happy then I’m happy for you.” A fib that you were unaware of. 

In truth, Spencer would rather crawl on the office bathroom floor than see you with some other guy. Fortunately for him, he isn’t actually going to be there to see you with this ‘Nathan’. So he doesn’t need to submit to such an awful torture. Maybe he’s being dramatic, you aren’t his girlfriend. He has no right to feel such a heavy drop in his gut. 

Part of him really is happy for you. He wanted you to feel loved, even if it wasn’t by him. God, how he wished it was by him. If friendship is what he has to settle for to be near you, then so be it. Though at times it feels like it might kill him, you being the closest person in his life, but not close enough to the point where he could call himself yours. 

“REID!”

Spencer jumps at the sound of Morgan’s voice, finding it difficult to focus on his current surroundings. He missed half the team scattering around to different parts of the bar, Morgan now his only company. 

“What’s up?” His expression shifts to a tight-lipped smile.

“Where’s your head at man?” Derek probes.

“What do you mean?” 

“I mean I have never seen you this zoned out before. You haven’t checked back in since you sat down.” 

It wasn’t intentional, but since you walked out the doors of the BAU all Spencer’s been able to think about was your date. You probably went straight home to get ready, pulling out all the stops to feel as beautiful as you are. For somebody that can never truly appreciate it, not like he can. 

“I guess I’m just not feeling well.” A pathetic excuse. One Spencer finds himself making whenever he’s pulled out of his thoughts about you. 

Morgan doesn’t believe him. Hell, Spencer doesn’t even believe himself. 

“Kid. You know you can always talk to me right? About anything.” 

“I know. I’m really just tired. Actually- you know what, c-could- could you just tell the others that I’m just not feeling great, I’m- bye Derek.” Spencer stutters as he rushes out of his seat. 

He doesn’t even give the man a chance to respond as he makes his exit out of the bar. He’s lacking the capability to force himself to socialise. The knowledge of you on a date with another man was something he’s been able to handle, but a second date with a man was harder to stomach. You must like him if you’re willing to see him again. 

The ride home feels longer than it actually is. How far had the date gotten? Were you enjoying it? Did Nathan make you laugh the way he could? Spencer might lose his mind. He wondered if you had given Nathan the privilege of touching you. Your skin always looked so soft, his heart panged at the thought. He felt sick. 

You were his best friend. You trusted him. He shouldn’t think this way about you, feel this way about you. Unreciprocated feelings were something Spencer was entirely used to. He’d perfected being able to put the person at the receiving end of his affections in the back of his mind. To ignore until it went away entirely.

Why was it so much harder this time? There is no universe in which you would ever return his love for you. Which is why he needs to force himself to love you from afar. It was a fact Spencer reminded himself of repeatedly. And he would’ve kept at it, if he wasn’t interrupted by the sight of you standing in front of his door as he stepped up his apartment stairs. 

“Hi!” His voice alerts you softly.

“Hi!” You squeak back, turning on your heel to face him. 

He can’t help but note how heavenly you look. It almost knocked the air out of his lungs, except he noticed the poorly wiped tears glistening on your face. He didn’t ask about it, immediately. Instead he just pulled you in for a hug, something he rarely did with others, and unlocked his door as he motioned for you to enter first. Another thing to love about Spencer Reid. 

You step inside, more than familiar with the deep green walls surrounding you. If the stench of liquor wasn’t enough, then the way you stumbled on your way to his couch was all Spencer needed to deduce that you had been drinking. A lot. He walks past you towards his kitchen, returning with a glass of water and painkillers you would definitely need later. 

“Have you eaten?” He asks softly, handing you the glass of water. 

“Um..” you take a sip and pause as you sigh, “yeah.”

The two of you just sit there, silently, stealing small glances at each other and averting your gazes before the other can notice. You know he’s waiting for you to feel comfortable enough to speak first. Except you don’t know what to say. You feel so embarrassed. He probably had better plans for tonight, but here you are, pestering him again. 

“How long were you waiting?” He speaks up once he realises that you aren’t going to.

“Not long, I had actually just gotten there, your timing was really good.” You mumble, forcing an awkward chuckle. 

“Did Nathan drop you off?” Spencer hopes that bringing up your date might give you enough courage to vent. 

“No. No, I walked.” A resigned smile creeps on your face, not wanting to talk about your journey here. “How was your night?”

“Walked?? Alone?? Drunk??” The words seep out of him before he can hold his tongue. “Why didn’t you call me?!”

“I’m sorry! I just didn’t want to bother you!” You defend. 

But you are bothering him. You’re bothering him right now.

You bite the inside of your cheek, trying to hold back tears. Guilt creeps inside him. He knows that he’s not the source of your tears, but he didn’t want to make you cry regardless. 

“Hey, it’s okay,” he takes hold of your hand and squeezes ever so gently, “we don’t have to talk about it.”

“Why don’t we play chess? You’re getting better at it, you know?” He adds, thinking of a quick distraction. 

Chess was a favourite pastime of yours with Spencer. You pull your hand out of his grip and use it to rub the opposing arm, his touch overwhelming you. He was too soft with you. You suppose it’s why you seek him out so often. Out of all the men you’ve ever known, Spencer was the only one who knew you. It felt so nice to be known. 

“Y-yea..yes. Please. Let’s uh- let’s play chess.” You stumble on your words, eager to think about anything else. 

Spencer retrieves his mini chess board from his satchel and prepares the board between the two of you. Neither of you utter a word as you play your moves. You appreciate the silence, because you know that you can’t say or do the wrong thing. 

“You’re going easy on me.” You break the silence anyway, scared that the silence might bore him. 

“You’re holding back.” He argues and you finally meet his eyes for the first time since you started the game.

“No, I’m just drunk.” You counter.

“I was the one at a bar but you’re the one who’s drunk.” It’s a stupid comment, slightly cringy even, but he earns a genuine laugh out of you. 

His dorkiness was part of his charm. Your laughter makes him smile. A comfortable silence fills the atmosphere as your eyes meet again. Spencer’s eyes were so beautiful, you could drown in them. Spencer in general was so beautiful, in every way possible. 

“It’s your move.” He has to remind you, worried that if he’s allowed to look at you for two long he might do something really stupid.

“I-uhm- I had a shitty date.” You owe him an explanation for ruining his night.

He doesn’t respond, not wanting to say anything that might make you close up again. He wanted to be the person you talked to about your problems. He wanted to be your solace. 

“It started really well. I thought I could see something more, but it turns out he just wanted the same thing as all the others. Thought that maybe if he got me drunk enough..but it obviously didn’t work” You try to lighten the weight of your words by laughing with them. “It’s probably for the best, you know? I don’t think it would’ve worked out regardless, I couldn’t stop-”

Stop comparing him to you. 

Normally, Spencer is the one with the tendency to ramble, but the alcohol wasn’t making it easy for you to shut up. You just hope he doesn’t realise where you were headed with that statement. You kept comparing your date to Spencer. Everything Nathan did today was a direct reminder of things Spencer would never do. 

“Check.” You choose to stop making a fool of yourself there.

Spencer’s breath hitches. Not because he picked up on what you hoped he didn’t, rather because he was concerned by the possible implications of what you said.

“Did he..did he try to-” 

“No. Oh my God, no!” You cut him off before he can finish the thought. 

His shoulders relax and the silence resumes. For the first time since he met you, Spencer found himself speechless. He didn’t know whether to comfort you or give you advice. Part of him felt selfishly relieved, at least he didn’t have to worry about some other guy anymore. The other part, the part that felt disgusted with himself for even thinking about himself right now, felt a mixed range of hurt for you. 

It started with resentment for the negligence Nathan displayed with you and ended with sorrow for how easily you brushed off your hurt. While he ran all the possibilities of the best thing to say, you ran all the possibilities of leaving his apartment in the least inconvenient way for him, interpreting his silence as irritation. 

He should be irritated, you’re disrupting his night. 

You need to leave before he can tell you to. Just as you’re about to mutter some bull-shit excuse, Spencer gently cups your hand with both of his hands and locks eyes with you. His voice is so painstakingly gentle, your breath gets stuck in your throat.

“Nathan and anyone else who has ever allowed themselves to be blinded by their shallow urges is an absolute fool. Idiot. Moron. There aren’t enough words in the English dictionary to describe how stupid they are for missing out on knowing you as you are. I’ve experienced a lot of good things in my life, none have ever brought me as much joy as you do. I can’t even begin to explain how deserving you are of love and it’s heartbreaking to see that you’ve convinced yourself of the opposite.”

It’s your turn to be speechless. Of the list of things you didn’t expect, this wasn’t even on the list. You should have expected it. It was in Spencer’s nature to prove you wrong for underestimating his tenderness. He felt perhaps he went too far. Said too much.

“I-I just mean-” 

“Why are you so nice to me?” Your heart feels like it’s lacking space inside your chest, tears threaten to build. 

“Because you’re my f-friend.” He struggles to utter the last word.

“Friend..” You nervously laugh.

The meaning behind his words don’t register in your drunken state. All your focus is diverted to the feeling of his calloused skin on yours. The liquor in your veins awakens dazed boldness. One you’d be too wary of displaying otherwise. You allow your fingers to dance against his, an act of intimacy not reserved for friends. He doesn’t stop you either. 

“You know…” 

it’s almost not even a whisper, 

“...if I wasn’t who I am…” 

but Spencer was an expert in tuning out everything else to focus solely on your voice,

“...maybe you could love me the way I love you.”

And the world, as Spencer knows it, stops. Your words ring in his ears and he’s sure his heartbeat has become audible. 

“Y-you love me?” He repeats, unable to suppress his need to hear those words again.

The validity of your confession doesn’t bear any weight until you hear it from him, your motions against his hand coming to an immediate stop. You shift line of sight to his face faster than you can blink, waiting for his reaction so you can scramble to save your friendship. 

Parroting your words wasn’t enough, Spencer couldn’t believe it. He had never considered it feasible for you to love him. He had spent so many sleepless nights tormenting himself over the fact. He wanted so badly to cup your face and tell you about all the thoughts of you that consumed his mind. To say those three words back. 

“You can’t love me.” Instead he said four words that strained your hope for salvation. He’d shoot himself if he had any realisation of what he had just done. 

“No, of-of c-course, I meant like an- a- amazing fr-friend. You k-know, like the kind of bes-best friend you only mean once in your lif-life.” And you unknowingly shattered that hope in him. 

Silence has never been more deafening. Neither of you can look away from each other. There’s so much to say but how can it be said now? 

“Right. No, yeah. Of course.” He forces out. 

A fake understanding between you two. The expressions canvassing both of your faces display anything but understanding. Though you’re no longer physically touching, you’re still holding each other in your view. A few moments pass and Spencer is the first to look away. 

“You must be tired-” He starts.

You were still disrupting his space.

“Right, I’ll go-” You stand, ready to rush out the door.

“No-no.” He sighs. “Stay please. It’s late and you’re drunk-”

“No I’ve alrea-” You try to protest, not wanting him to go out of his way for you any longer.

“Please. I’ll feel a lot better knowing you’re safe.” He begs, not just with his words but his eyes. 

“Okay.” You murmur. “But I’m taking the couch.”

Under any other circumstances, Spencer would have resisted you taking the couch. Today? He was utterly drained.

“Alright. I’ll get you something comfortable to change into while I set up the couch. You know where the bathroom is.” He sports a weak smile, unable to meet your eyes again. 

He watches you disappear into the bathroom after handing you some spare clothes. He sets the couch with the pillows and blankets he’d reserved for you. He bought them after you’d slept over a few times at the start of your friendship, wanting you to sleep as comfortably as possible so you would keep coming back.

You’d just broken his heart into a million pieces, so fine that he’d never be able to put it back together whole, but he still couldn’t not exert the utmost care when it came to you. 

In the bathroom, you fight back tears again as you fumble into his clothes. You’d worn this particular sweatshirt before, because you didn’t anticipate staying the night. It was never planned, often you two just lost track of time because you spent too long engaged in conversations. After a while you started leaving things at his place so you had an excuse to keep coming back. 

You can handle just being his friend, but you don’t think you can handle not being anything to him. Was there something you could do so you didn’t have to stop coming back? 

When you came out and saw your makeshift bed for the night, you felt slightly fuzzy inside. Spencer had already gone to bed but he’d covered the cushions of the couch with a thick blanket and two fluffy pillows. A fresh glass of water was waiting for you on the coffee table with the pills from earlier. 

Maybe things were okay after all? Surely he wouldn’t have put as much care into your comfort if they weren’t. So why couldn’t you shake this feeling of dread inside you? Why did the air feel so thick?

You spend most of what’s left of the night awake, curled into yourself on his couch, muffling your sobs. You’ve ruined another good thing. Pushed away probably the most important person in your life. You knew he was too good for you, he could never feel the same way. You got greedy.

Just a few feet away from you, Spencer’s in the exact same position as you on his bed. No rejection has ever hurt as much as when it came from you. He knew you were drunk, he knew you could never actually feel the same way. But aren’t drunk words sober thoughts? Statistics definitely agree they are.

The first thing you notice when you wake up is the pounding headache. Then the dry mouth. Spencer had left a glass of water, painkillers and a bagel on the coffee table. You reach for the pill first, hoping that the faster you take it, the faster it kicks in. As you practically pour the water down your throat, you see a little note next to the bagel. 

“Paper work day at the office. Make sure to eat and drink lots of water. Will tell Hotch that you’ll be late/taking the day off. - Spencer”

Thoughtful as ever. The bagel was still warm so he must’ve left recently. It was strange that he’d left without waking you up like he normally does. Your first bite of the bread jolts the memories of the night before and it hits you harder than the headache. Your appetite faded and the remorse set in. 

Shit. 

You and Spencer have always been able to bounce back, but the damage you caused last night might be irreparable. Say Spencer does forget about it, can you? You always knew he couldn’t love you back, but you never imagined that he would forbid you to love him in the first place. As much as you didn’t want to face Spencer right now, work was the best place for you to be if you didn’t want to go mad thinking about last night. 

You’d have to change into appropriate work attire first, so a trip back to your place was warranted. The whole uber ride back to your apartment you think of things to say when you see him. Things didn’t need to change. You had to apologise, obviously, but there had to be some way of apologising while maintaining normalcy. The best start was getting him his coffee and scones like you usually did. 

Meanwhile at the office, Spencer was stuck on the same page of his file. It had never taken him more than a few seconds to turn a page, but he wasn’t actually reading the words. You took up every thought in his mind again. He wondered if you were awake yet, if you remembered the events of the night before. 

“You know if I wasn’t who I am, maybe you could love me the way I love you.”

When he initially heard you say it, all he heard was that you love him.

“You know if I wasn’t who I am, maybe you could love me the way I love you.”

When he said it out loud to himself all he wanted to do was tell you how much he does love you, but the chance was ripped away from him just as fast as it was given to him. Did you even care? Or was it just an insignificant event to you? It was a lot easier to accept that you could never love him the same way before he had a taste of what it would be like if you did. 

There was this moment, when your fingers were fiddling with his and you said those words, just a second where he experienced what it could be like. He can’t go back to how it was, not now that he knows how it could’ve been. In order to protect himself from unravelling completely he has to let you go. An impossible task, considering you work together. 

“I brought coffee.” Your expression is tentative. 

Spencer looks up to see you standing above him, holding his daily coffee and scones in hand. There are no traces of the night before to be seen on you. Your makeup is fresh and you’d clearly changed clothes. You looked perfectly angelic, as always. If it were any other day, your gesture would’ve made him feel like the most special person in the world. Today, it felt like the cruellest thing in the world. 

“Do you wanna come with me while I heat it up? Or should I just bring it back to you?” You prompt. 

“No.” He rises from his seat and pries it out from your hand. “I can do it. Thank you.” 

Before you comprehend what’s happened, Spencer’s walked away. You try to follow him to the kitchen, but when you get there he’s nowhere to be seen. This seems to be a trend for the next few days. You find some excuse to try for conversation and he shuts it down after about one sentence. That’s if you’re able to get close enough to him for that sentence. It’s becoming more and more obvious that he’s avoiding you. 

You decide to give him space after about a week of it, wishing everyday that you could go back in time and change things. Around the two week mark, he starts giving you the cold shoulder, not even so much as looking at you. He couldn’t look at you. It was taking everything in him to force himself away from you, but it was easier than being near you. You weren’t the only one who could feel this change in your dynamic, the team was just as confused.

They’d all tried to investigate the root of this shift, individually directing casual questions to both of you in conversations. You’d both just brushed it off, not wanting to be the burden of the topic. Spencer had been doing so well in keeping his distance, but eventually, Hotch made the decision that enough is enough.

The BAU was in Chicago this week, hunting down another unsub who thought he was too smart to get caught. This was one of those cases that would stick with you for a while, so tensions were already high amongst everyone. Nobody was more on edge than Spencer and now he was forced in a car with you, driving around the city, chasing leads. 

Rarely did he ever get behind the wheel, but he knew he would need any distraction he could get. Driving was supposed to mean he wouldn’t be stuck in the passenger seat, fighting the urge to stare at you. Now he was fighting the urge to stare at you from the driver's seat. He hated being in love. You were trying your best to stay silent and looking out the window at the passing buildings. 

“Are you hungry?” 

That’s the first time in a month that Spencer’s been the first one to speak. He tried not to. Like he tried not to pay attention to your routine. It wasn’t possible. No matter how hard he tried, there were just some things Spencer couldn’t not do in regards to you. The most important thing was that he couldn’t not care. 

He knew you hadn't been eating properly. You had a tendency to forget about your well-being during hard cases. You were probably hungry. Somebody had to take care of you because you most definitely weren’t going to. He was right. The thought of food made your stomach growl. It was wicked timing. 

“No, thank you.” You lie anyway, not wanting to inconvenience him further. 

“Why won’t you stop lying to me?” He mutters in annoyance. 

“Excuse me?” You scoff, turning to look at him. 

He doesn’t look away from the road, pretending to not have heard you. 

“Seriously?” You sputter. “You’re ignoring me now?”

You huff as you throw yourself back against your seat. He didn’t mean to ignore you, he just didn’t know what to say. 

“I don’t understand why you’re being like this.” You mumble. 

It was already daunting when he was barely acknowledging you, but refusing to acknowledge all together? When you were the only person next to him? That was just vicious. You knew you’d fucked up, but was this necessary? You had already spent so much of yourself trying to keep it together, being confined in this car with him would waste your efforts. 

“Pull over.” You say in the kindest way possible, which was immensely harsh. “Spencer Reid pull this damn car over or I swear to fucking God I am going to jump out of it.”

That definitely caught his attention. In all your time together, you had never spoken to him in that way. You had definitely never addressed him by his full name. He brings the car to a halt on the side of the curb and finally turns to face you. You push the door open and hop out, slamming it behind you. 

“What are yo-” Spencer starts, but you’re already walking away. He quickly gets out and follows behind you. It doesn’t take him long to catch up to you and he stops you by the arm when he realises saying your name won’t make you turn back around. 

“Don’t touch me!” You yank your arm out of his grip and keep walking. 

“Where are you going?!” 

“Anywhere you’re not.” 

He tries you by your name again, but when it fails again, he grabs you by the shoulders and spins you around. You hadn’t noticed that you’d walked into an alleyway. 

“Get back in the car.” He demands.

“I am not getting in a car with you.” You have never been this upset with him before. 

“You’re being childish!” He snaps, rolling his eyes.

“Oh I’m being childish?! Spencer, believe me when I say I mean this is the nicest way I possibly can right now – FUCK OFF!” You push his hands off you and take a step back, but he just grabs your wrist.

“Listen to me,” he urges, “there is a serial killer that’s kidnapping women in broad daylight, torturing them and murdering them. And he’s threatened each of us individually during the course of this investigation. You cannot just be walking around alone, in a city you hardly know.”

“Don’t explain the details of this case to me, I’m well aware.” You snarl, your irritation increasing tenfold.

“Then why are you being so difficult?!” He screeches.

“Why are you–fucking hell, I cannot keep doing this. I’m not getting in the car when you won’t talk to me. Hell, you won’t even so much as look at me!” 

“Fine! You wanna talk? We’ll talk! Just–get back in the car. Please.” He sighs in defeat. You still don’t budge, so he pleads softer. “Please.”

You take a deep breath and roll your eyes, stealing your wrist out of his grasp. Spencer doesn’t move until you do, both of you silently making your way to the car. 

You’re both silent initially, not knowing where exactly to go from here. There’s one thing you know for sure, you won’t be the first to speak. Spencer catches on to that fast. 

“What do you wanna talk about?” He snarls, shrugging his arms. 

“Cut the shit, I won’t get back in this car if I get out for a second time.” You’re not in the mood. The two of you had avoided this conversation for long enough, it was now or never. Some part of you wished for never. 

“Fine. Did you mean it?” He shoots, briskly. 

“What?” You didn’t know which part he meant. 

“That you love me specifically as an ‘amazing friend’, I believe was your wording.” His voice cracks and it causes a shift in his behaviour. He’s no longer hostile, just hurt. 

“Is that why you’ve been avoiding me?” 

In your rush to get him talking, you hadn’t actually realised that you weren’t ready to talk about this. You were stalling. 

“Answering a question with a question.” 

This doesn’t feel like a conversation. More like an interrogation, except you’re the unsub. He scoffs bitterly at your silence. 

“Spencer, don’t–” 

“No, you’re the one who wanted to talk! You were so insistent, in fact, that you would have rather made yourself a serial killer’s target then get in a car with me if I didn’t talk to you. And all of a sudden you’re speechless?” He snaps at you. 

“Yes! I was the one who wanted to talk! I just– I can’t understand what I’ve done to make you hate me so much? Was it because I said I love you? Did it really upset you that much?” You were both shouting from frustration. 

“You think I’m upset because you love me?!” Spencer scoffs in disbelief. 

“Aren’t you?!” You bitterly laugh. 

Spencer rubs his temples and squeezes his eyes shut, mumbling some under his breath. He’s genuinely never been this frustrated in his life. 

“Are you being serious?” His voice strains in pitch, as he tries to keep himself a lot calmer than he feels. “Is this some sort of joke to you?”

“Some sort of joke–”

“Do not interrupt me again. You wanna run away from this? Fine. But you will listen because I will not have this conversation again.” His tone is sharp, like a blade being held against your throat. It definitely shuts you up.

“Talk. Okay, let’s talk about how I have spent the last four years watching you allow undeserving men to walk all over you, letting them treat you like you’re worth nothing. I damn near drove myself insane trying to figure out why. Why is it something you accept for yourself? And then I realised– that’s how you see yourself. You actually hate yourself so much that you’ve convinced yourself you deserve it! Do you realise how infuriating that is?!

Especially because it’s the furthest thing from the truth! Still, I watched you throw yourself into this vicious cycle over and over again. You gave yourself away to those idiots, knowing that they didn’t have good intentions, but you still hoped it would be different every time. I mean you’re a fucking profiler for God’s sake! How can you expect others to love you if you can’t even love yourself? 

That’s not even the worst part! You’re so desperate for their acceptance that you continuously neglect the acceptance you already have from the people who love you. People like Emily, Penelope, Derek– the team– people like– people like me. I mean I’ve always known that you didn’t love me as anything more than a friend, but your constant reminders feel like a punch to the gut! Is it that embarrassing for you to love me as anything more?

I’ve survived way worse things, but this is the cruellest thing I’ve ever been through. Because it’s coming from you! I just never expected it’d be from you.” He’s practically hyperventilating for air by the time his speech comes to a stop, the vein in his forehead more prominent than usual.

Your jaw is tense and restless, twitching from anger. Some part of you still wants to keep this friendship. The louder part knows that there’s no going back from this. You’re not entirely sure you want to go back. Your entire body is shaking from rage. The first rule of your friendship was no profiling. Not only did he break that rule, he used the profile against you as if you actually were an unsub he was interrogating. 

“That’s not fair”

His eye twitches at your response. 

“Not? Fair?” Spencer grumbles in pauses.

“No, that's not fair!” You cry out. “It’s your turn to listen.”

It doesn’t feel like there’s any oxygen left to breathe in the car.

“Self loathing? Spencer, that's your projection! You love too hard and nobody’s ever loved you back the same way. But just because you lack things you want in your life doesn’t mean you get to take it out on me! And all this talk about love, but none of it makes any sense. You think I’m embarrassed of loving you? Is that how shallow you think I am?! You’re the one who told me that I can’t love you. God, you are the most duplicitous person I’ve ever met! I can’t believe I didn’t see it. You’ve been giving me the cold shoulder because I love you as an ‘amazing friend’? Because you love me and you think I’ve been neglecting you?!”

You had never spoken to anyone this way in your life. There was so much truth to Spencer’s words, but he had no right. He’d touched every nerve in your body without ever laying a hand on you. Up until roughly twenty minutes ago, being seen by Spencer was your favourite thing in the entire world. Now? You’d never hated the feeling more in your life. 

Spencer squeezes his hand into a fist, knuckles going white and releases his fingers like if he were aggressively squishing a stress ball. If asked about a month ago, he would never in a million years think that your friendship would manage to dissipate in just a few seconds. He didn’t think he could associate the word love with you anymore.

“Let’s get one thing straight. I do not love you. I do not love anything about you. Actually, I hate you. I hate how sweet you pretend to be. I hate the stupid morning coffee you bring me, nothing tastes more bitter. I hate to admit this but you’re right; everything about you is a brutal reminder of all the good things I can never have and I despise you for it.” He spits his words out with extreme tension in his blood vessels. 

“I can’t say I’ve known what it feels like to truly loathe someone before I met you.” You fire back, breathlessly, not having it in you to spare any more words for him. 

You’re not exactly sure how long the two of you have been sitting there just glaring at each other. Only when Spencer’s phone rings do you two look away. 

“Reid.” He answers the call. “Yea, she’s still here. We’re on our way back now.”

The ride back to the precinct was silent. Even as you regrouped with the rest of the team, you acknowledged everybody but each other. The team was instantly alert to the change, but no one mentioned it at the time because of the high stress of the case. You wrapped the case up a few days later and only then did the questions start making their way around. 

“Is everything okay between you two?”

“Do you wanna talk about it?”

“What happened between you and Reid?”

“What’s up with Boy Wonder over there?”

You didn’t entertain any of them, Spencer had taken up enough time in your life. You refused to talk about him, look at him or acknowledge him at all. He shared that same incentive. Another three weeks passed as the team watched what was once the closest duo in the BAU, pretend that their counterpart didn’t exist. 

If one of you was in a room and noticed the other enter, you’d walk out without drawing attention to the situation. When leaving the room was not an option, you either went as far in the opposite corner of the room as you could or you’d simply pretend the other wasn’t present just a few metres away. You wouldn’t discuss intel with each other about cases, sharing your findings with anybody else. 

Since Chicago, Hotch only assigned you with Spencer once more, but quickly realised that wasn’t going to help when both of you begged to be assigned with someone else privately. If you were in a discussion with someone and they started talking about Spencer, you’d tune out entirely. After a while the hating game got exhausting.

Spencer hated pretending that he hated you. He felt an immense amount of guilt for the things he’d said, but it was too late to take it back. He thought it would be easier to deal with his feelings if he wasn’t around you all the time, but it was just as difficult as before. You still lit up the dull grey rooms of the building. The only difference was that now he had to watch you shine from afar. 

In truth, you didn’t hate Spencer either. What you actually hated was that you didn’t hate Spencer. You still caught yourself staring at him for long periods of time. There were days when you’d go to his favourite coffee shop before work and buy his order, only to give it away to somebody on the street because you didn’t want to ruin Spencer’s day with the bitterness of your coffee. 

By the fifth week since you had gotten back from Chicago, you and Spencer were no longer ignoring each other as much. You’d gotten into a routine of professionalism for the sake of the team, only talking to each other about cases when necessary. That didn’t stop you from subconsciously showing subtle gestures of love. These were a lot quieter than the gestures you showed when you were friends. 

You’d make sure that there was always a fresh pot of coffee in the office kitchen, so Spencer would have it ready to drink whenever he needed. He’d make sure that the snack cupboard was always filled with your favourite snacks because he knew you liked having something to munch on when catching up on paperwork. You’d keep extra painkillers in Garcia’s lair knowing Spencer would retreat there when a migraine hit.

He’d ensure the aircon was always set to room temperature, you get uncomfortable if the room was too cold. Both of you were aware of the little gestures too, no one else knew your truly niche preferences. Neither of you was brave enough to actually go up to the other, though. It was all too much for you. No matter what was said, he was still your thoughtful Spencer deep down and it killed you.

You’d tried to talk to Spencer a few times, building up the courage for days in advance. As soon as he noticed you heading in his direction, he nearly bolted in the other direction. His avoidance didn’t end at the office. You recently became aware that Penelope had been scheduling rosters to invite you and Spencer to outings, trying to ensure you were present for equal amounts of time. 

You were chilling at her desk in wait for her, when you noticed a little note with your name next to a date and time. Under that was Spencer’s name with a separate date and time. 

“Hey! What are you doing here?” She greets you.

“I needed to talk to you…Penelope what is this?” You hold up the little pink sticky note.

Penelope sets her octopus mug down and takes the note from your hand. 

“This? This is nothing.” She fumbles a bit as she speaks.

“Garcia?” You purposefully speak with warning.

“Okay! Okay! But you didn’t hear it from me! We’ve kinda been taking turns hanging out with you and Spencer sometimes. But it’s because we love you and don’t want to make either of you-” She starts a panicked tangent.

“Garcia!” You interrupt her before she sends herself into a spiral. “There’s no need to do all of this. Yes Spencer and I aren’t close anymore, but you guys don’t need to go out of your way for us.”

“Well..” She grits her teeth and tilts her head.

“What?” 

“We didn’t really mean to. It’s just we noticed that Spencer would never come if you were going. And both of you just straight up refuse to talk about it, so this was the best we could come up with.” 

“Oh. Penny, I’m sorry that you guys have had to do that.” That was all you could say, your head hanging in guilt.

“Can you at least tell me why you won’t talk about it? I mean it makes sense for Boy Wonder, he’s always been stubbornly private, but you’ve never not told me anything!” 

You look towards Garcia again, thinking for a minute. You didn’t know exactly why you refused to talk about it. 

“I don’t know, honestly. I just don’t want to talk about it, if that makes sense?” You pull your friend in for a hug as an apology. 

You felt awful leaving her lair without giving her a proper answer or a resolution. It didn’t matter how professional you acted, this rift would always impact your friends and your work life. 

Spencer would always impact everything in your life. 

The guilt didn’t spare you that night, creeping its way to the forefront of your mind every few minutes. It had been four months since your last fight. It was the longest you’d gone without Spencer. This had to end for the sake of the team. That was how you found yourself standing at his door once again. After a few minutes you finally knock. You didn’t know what you were going to say, honestly you just wanted to run before he answered. You hear the locks being undone, but it’s not Spencer who answers when that door finally swings open.

“Yes?” 

It’s a woman, one you've never seen before. You’re taken aback and look around to make sure you got the right apartment. This was definitely Spencer’s apartment, you’d been here a hundred times before. And some woman was answering his door for him. Some very beautiful woman. 

“Can I help you?” She follows up, looking you up and down. 

“Hi, yeah, sorry, is–um– is Spencer here?”

“Who’s asking?” She’s definitely not very friendly. 

“We work together. Is he here or not?” You didn’t have the patience for this, annoyance seeping through your pores. 

“Who’s at the door?” His voice emerges from behind her and he finally shows up. “Oh.”

“Hey.” You glance away as soon as you see him. 

“Could you give me a minute?” He turns to the woman. She flashes a sickly sweet smile and kisses his cheek before disappearing inside. Spencer shuffles out to the corridor, closing the door behind him.

“That–uh–that was–” He stops himself, clearing his throat and switching to his professional voice. “What are you doing here?”

Cold.

“I was hoping we could talk.” You bite the inside of your cheek, trying to play off what you just saw. 

“What more is there to say?” 

“About the team. I came over to, um, apologise and maybe move past things for the sake of the team.” You were looking everywhere but at him. 

“Honestly?” His eyes are on you though. “I don’t care. And even if I did, I don’t want to hear it.” 

He starts to walk away, but turns back and mentions your name like it’s the most vile word in the dictionary. “Please don’t come back here. It’s hard enough at work, I don’t want to see your face in my personal time too.” 

With that he re-enters his apartment, leaving you standing in the hallway. It’s hard to imagine that this man was once your best friend. If you didn’t know about all the good times, you wouldn’t have believed it. Every tear that your body could ever produce streamed out of you for the rest of the night. Once you had made it back to your apartment, they broke out in sobs. In your line of work, you had survived being shot at, almost blown up and even a kidnapping once.

The man you loved with every fibre of your being looking at you like you were less than filth under a person's shoes was your breaking point. There was no way you were going to face him again. You needed to forget about Spencer Reid, which meant a fresh start. This city was a constant reminder of his essence, you couldn’t stay. You plopped down on your bed with your work bag, reaching into it for your work computer. Hands twitching as you type. 

You remember being so proud when David Rossi recommended you for the FBI’s Behavioural Analysis Unit. You were even more ecstatic when Hotch actually requested your transfer there. You had worked your ass off for it. It was there that you met the infamous Doctor Reid. He was much different than how you had imagined him. He was so charming, friendly and so down to earth, not liking him wasn’t an option. The two of you had so much in common, despite being so different, it was the foundation for your friendship. His caring nature pulled you in further, you soon found yourself deeply in love with him. 

Tears flooded your keyboard as all your memories with him flash through your brain. His friendship was a beautiful bonus of the job you once loved, you never thought that he would become the reason you’d leave it. Yet here you were, furiously drafting your resignation to Agent Hotchner. There were so many signals in your brain telling you to back off, to open a bottle of wine and drown your sorrows instead, but your heart didn’t feel like that would be enough. Your love for your job didn’t outweigh your desire to run.

Spencer Reid was your best friend and being in love with him is an excruciating torture. One that you can no longer endure. You had never been more sure of anything as you are at this moment and you weren’t going to give yourself time to change your mind. Your time with Spencer and, as a consequence, your time at the BAU had come to an end. Another memory flashes through your mind as you sign the letter off with your name. A case in Boston had gone wrong and you were really hung up on it. Spencer, in an attempt to help you move on, shared a quote with an author he had recently read. You bitterly chuckle to yourself at this recall and press send with no second thought.

 “Getting over a painful experience is much like crossing monkey bars. You have to let go at some point in order to move forward.” - C.S. Lewis.

Spoilers: BAU! Reader, friends to enemies, mutual pining, hurt, angst no comfort, whump (maybe idk), Reader & Spencer are both idiots, they should probably consider therapy actually, Spencer is a sassy little shit, but really just needs a hug and a class on communication. 

AN - You’ve heard of enemies to lovers/friends, now I present to you the exact same thing in reverse (been done time and time again, I’m not in any way original <3). You can blame Ariana Grande for this one. Sorry that I haven't posted, I've had insane writers block. I might be slightly incapable of shorter word counts, I’ll try to improve that.  I apologise for grammar/anything that does not make sense, I am both an idiot and also was dealing with a bad case of the flu when I wrote this. I’d like to thank @reidmotif for curing my writer's block and inspiring me on the second half of this fic. Thank you @starstruckbambi for proof reading this.

Drop thoughts & feelings so I can ponder on them. Always remember that I’m in your walls. 

Thank you for reading!

[where-is-my-whump]

Criminal Minds 15x09

[pathologicalreid]

Spencer x fem!reader fic based on “Work Song” by Hozier?? Whatever storyline or category you want!!

work song | S.R.

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: angst content warnings: general cm violence, near death experience, blood, gunshot wound, hospitals. word count: 1.77k a/n: hozier song request makes my brain go brr. i hope the people of tumblr enjoy this bc i most definitely enjoyed writing it.

boys, when my baby found me

Your hair whipped your face as you spun around through the labyrinth of a warehouse that your team had found themselves in. It seemed like an impossible task, trying to navigate this space, but you had already cleared over half of the space.

A small noise, like a shoe squeaking, caught your attention, causing your ears to rise like an animal hunting for prey. Turning a corner, you had your flashlight and firearm raised, coming face to face with Morgan. The both of you relaxed ever so slightly, no longer ready to pounce.

Ricocheting throughout the warehouse, you heard a deafening gunshot. The sound bounced off of the metal walls of the building, making it almost impossible for you to determine where the sound originated from. Meeting Morgan’s eyes, he nodded his head to the left, signaling for you to go that way while he went right.

You affirmed his tactics, turning slowly and making your way to the left. The rusted building was now so eerily quiet that goosebumps were sprouting across your body, even under your bureau jacket.

Continuing your way down the narrow passageway, you saw movement inside of a room. Sliding your back along the wall, you peeked into the room, seeing two bodies on the ground. You whispered almost imperceptibly into your radio, calling for medical. One of them was the local officer that the BAU had been working the case with.

The other one was Spencer.

You pivoted so that you were entirely in the doorway, facing the UnSub, he raised his gun at you, but you were already pulling the trigger, hitting him square in the forehead. Breathing heavily, you lowered your firearm before scrambling over to Spencer.

I didn’t care much how long I lived, but I swear I thought I dreamed her

In your ear, you could hear Morgan shouting, “Y/N, Reid, sound off, dammit!”

Something needed to happen. You needed to do something, but you had such severe tunnel vision that the only thing you could think about was Spencer.

He was gasping for air on the metal ground of the warehouse, lying in a pool of his own blood. You observed in horror as the red puddle spread with each passing moment.

Launching into action, you tugged your jacket off, stuffing the fabric onto Spencer’s side in an attempt to staunch the bleeding. Even Kevlar vests had an Achilles heel, and the UnSub had managed to strike him precisely where there was a gap in the material. All the while, you were muttering the words, “Stay awake.” Just those two words, over and over again, like a prayer.

You hummed, using one hand to apply pressure to his wound and lifting the other so that you could smooth his hair back. His skin was alarmingly clammy, and you knew that, even with your attempts, he was losing too much blood. “Y/N,” he muttered, sounding like he was using all of his strength to say your name.

Gently, you hushed him, “It’s okay, Spence. Don’t talk, you’re gonna be just fine,” you insisted as his blood soaked through the knees of your jeans. You weren’t sure who you were trying to console at that moment.

“It makes sense-“ he said, being cut off by a cough, sending blood spurting out of his mouth. If his lung was collapsing, there was nothing you’d be able to do. You tried to shush him again, but he had more to say – he almost always did. “That I’d see you while I’m dying.”

Choking on tears, you leaned your face onto your shoulder so that you could wipe them away without moving your hands. “I’m here, I’m really here,” you urged, he wasn’t hallucinating, and he wasn’t dying. Not on your watch. “It’s me, Spence. I’m right here,” you told him carefully.

He opened his mouth again to speak, and you wanted to tell him to save his strength. You also didn’t want to deprive him of his words. “You…” his voice trailed off as he searched for the words, “You’ve always been my favorite dream.”

Sniffling, you shake your head, “I’m not a dream, I’m right here.” You told him, watching carefully as his eyelids grew seemingly heavier, “baby, open your eyes.”

in the low lamplight I was free

His skin was pallid. Even in the dim, orange light of the warehouse, you could see a sickly sheen forming on his skin. His body temperature was dropping, and it was all you could do to not cover his body with yours as you tried to keep him warm. “Spencer, please,” you rasped, urging him to open his eyes.

Your only solace was that his chest was still rising and falling. His breathing was rickety, but he was still breathing, and that had to count for something. “Spencer,” you cried, watching as blood sept through your jacket, flooding between your fingers as you tried to keep him in one piece.

“Love, open your eyes,” you begged, your eyes flooding with tears until everything was just a blur of red.

His heart was beating, you could feel it beneath your hands. A weak, unsteady beat under your trembling hands. “Baby, please, oh my god,” you pleaded, verging toward incoherent babbling.

You were second-guessing if he was still breathing. If his heart was still beating. With that realization, you screamed.

when my time comes around, lay me gently in the cold, dark earth

At first, you were just screaming, letting the vibrations of your vocal cords portray your emotions, and then you screamed for your team. You had never felt more alone, kneeling in a puddle of Spencer’s blood, and no one was coming to help you.

This couldn’t be how it ended. You refused to acknowledge it, even as you felt the life leave his body.

Leaning your head to the side, you spoke into your radio, “I need medical. I’m in the upper west wing of the building. The suspect is dead, I have an officer and an agent down.” Tears continued to stream down your face.

You heard footsteps behind you as people piled into the room, but you didn’t dare take your eyes off Spencer. Not when there was a chance that it would be the last time you looked at him while you were both still breathing. “Agent,” someone said, but it didn’t register. They kept repeating themselves until two strong arms wrapped around you, dragging you away from Spencer.

Now sat on the floor, you clocked the paramedics that were now frantically working on Spencer, packing his wound, and cutting off the Kevlar vest.

Breathing heavily, you watched out of the corner of your eye as Rossi approached the local officer, checking his pulse. Emily was hovered over the UnSub, collecting his weapon from his corpse.

You were still being firmly held back, trying to pry the tattooed arms of Derek Morgan off of your torso. “Stop, let me get to him. I need to get to him,” you struggled against his grip, but any attempts at freedom were futile. The medics were saying awful things about a weak and thready pulse and pneumothorax.

Clinging to any semblance of hope that you could find, you listened to them talk about Spencer’s pulse, knowing that a pulse meant he was alive.

Your breathing quickened as you looked up at Morgan, Hotch was hovering behind the two of you, “I should’ve called for medical sooner.” Your voice was miserable, you had sat there with your jacket to his side for far too long. He could’ve gotten help from professionals.

“You radioed almost five minutes ago for medical,” Morgan informed you. “The EMTs just couldn’t find you in this damn maze.”

While you had no recollection of calling for help when you first found Spencer, you also knew that Morgan would get no pleasure out of lying to you.

You heard one of the paramedics say there was no pulse, and you didn’t remember anything that followed.

no grave can hold my body down

Crumpled in a ball, you picked at the crusted blood in your fingernails as you focused on the steady beeping of Spencer’s heart monitor.

According to Emily, who had been there when you woke up in the hospital, you had passed out around the time that the medics lost Spencer’s pulse. The doctor said it was just a result of stress. Thanks to some IV fluids and hydroxyzine, you were able to be discharged.

Spencer had been out of surgery for several hours now. The doctors had been careful to use the term “if he wakes up”, while you had made sure to say “when he wakes up.” You were playing the most horrendous waiting game, and there’s nothing worse than playing a game you have no interest in.

You were now donning a pair of black sweatpants and an old Academy t-shirt. Being the only team member permitted to see Spencer while he was still sleeping – girlfriend privileges, as Morgan phrased it – you waited with only the noises of his monitor to keep you company in the ICU.

Nurses came in and out, trying to manage his pain without the use of narcotics, making sure his blood transfusions were helping, and every once in a while, they’d check on you.

At this point, you had been nursing the same cup of ice water for hours, remembering the last thing Spencer had said to you: You’ve always been my favorite dream.

There was something so peculiar about being with someone who read so much, especially when he said such eloquent things while bleeding to death. You sighed, slumping back in the chair, you looked back at Spencer, only to be surprised that he was looking right back at you.

You jumped slightly in the chair, leaning over so that you could look at him, “Hey,” you whispered, maintaining the reverent tones of the Intensive Care Unit. “How do you feel?”

He’d lie to you and tell you he was fine, but you could tell by the way his heart rate increased that it was a lie. His eyebrows furrowed as he clocked the white patient ID bracelet on your wrist and your bloodshot eyes, “You’ve been crying,” he observed.

Despite yourself, you smiled softly, “I thought you were dead.” Your voices were each raspy, yours from screaming and his from being intubated.

Slowly, he unfolded his arm so that his hand was extended to you. Without a second thought, you placed your hand in his. He hummed softly, “And leave you? Never.”

I’ll crawl home to her

[ghostlyarchaeologist]

Eliot's worsening wooziness.

Leverage Redemption S03E01 The Weekend in Paris Job.

[letthewhumpbegin]

Criminal Minds, s4e24

My GIF masterlist

[whumpiii]

[goodwhump-temp]

Shawn Spencer Whump | Psych

1x02 Spellingg Bee - Motorcycle crash, hospital, knee brace, limp, bumps into bin, pain 1x03 Woman Seeking Dead Husband - Held at gunpoint x2 1x05 Lives - Held at gunpoint 1x06 Weekend Warriors - Held at gunpoint 1x15 Scary Sherry - Nightmare

2x02 65 Million Years Off - Shot at, scared 2x03 Psy vs Psy - Hostage 2x04 Zero to Murder in 60s - Brief boo-boo (chair race sabatoged) 2x05 And Down the Stretch... - Childhood bully 2x07 If You're So Smart... - Bullied by children 2x09 Bounty Hunters! - Handcuffed, jumps off boat, held at gunpoint 2x13 Lights, Camera… - Nearly nailed to death (38:00), character funeral 2x15 Black and Tan - Sad (18:30) 2x16 Shawn (and Gus) of the Dead - Mummy 'curse'

3x01 Ghosts - [Flashback; emo/arrested] Increasingly angry about mothers' return, confrontation, heartbroken 3x04 Greatest Adventure in the History of Basic Cable - Shot at, chased x3, restrained, held at helicopter-point and gunpoint, betrayed 3x06 There Might Be Blood - Held at gunpoint, dangerous confrontation 3x08 Gus Walks Into A Bank - Held back, worried, bank hostage, tight gus hug, manhandled 3x10 Six Feet Under the Sea - Held at gunpoint 3x11 Lassie Did a Bad, Bad Thing - Punched unconscious, hostage, held at gunpoint, pistol whipped, fatherly care, nearly passes out (40:15) 3x12 Earth, Wind And… - Runs into burning building, oxygen mask, held at firepoint, caught in burning building, briefly thought dead, coughing/smoke inhalation 3x13 Any Given Friday Night at 10PM - 'Abducted' 3x14 Truer Lies - Held at gunpoint 3x15 Tuesday the 17th - 'Trips', held at 'knifepoint' 3x16 An Evening with Mr. Yang - Angry, mom held hostage, scared, heartbroken

4x01 Extradition: British Colombia - Held at gunpoint x2 4x02 He Dead - Daddy issues 4x03 High Noon-ish - Stampede/pushed, falls into mineshaft, pain, held at gunpoint, trapped 4x04 Devil is in the Details… - Confession 4x05 Shawn Gets the Yips - Scared/dumb ("bomb" on treadmill) 4x06 Bollywood Homicide - Slapped (39:15) 4x07 High Top Fade Out - Held at gunpoint, shot at 4x09 Shawn Takes A Shot in the Dark - Shot, abducted/missing, bleeding, pain, knocked unconscious, choked, jumps on moving car, weak, sling 4x10 You Can't Handle This Episode - Shot at 4x12 A Very Juliet Episode - Held at gunpoint, punched x2, knocked down x2, kicked 4x16 Mr. Yin Presents - Nightmare, angry, heartbroken x2, fatherly love

5x01 Romeo & Juliet & Juliet - Held at gunpoint, falls through window, kicked through wall, insane dodging skillz, knocked down, sore 5x03 Not Even Close, Encounters - Held at gunpoint/abducted by 'aliens' 5x04 Chivalry is Not Dead - Hanging upside down (tomato face), poisoned, collapse, hospital, unconscious 5x07 Ferry Tale - Held at gunpoint x2, hostage, kicked in the face, tear gas inhalation, restrained, trips/tumbles down a hill 5x09 One, Maybe Two, Ways Out - Seriously heartbroken 5x12 Dual Spires - Trapped in burning house 5x13 We'd Like to Thank the Academy - Held at gunpoint x2 5x16 Yang 3 in 2D - Held at shotgunpoint, scared

6x01 Shawn Rescues Darth Vader - Jumps off roof 6x02 Last Night Gus - Hungover, stressed, jumps from balcony, shot at 6x04 Amazing Psych-Man & Tap-Man - Trips, found unconscious, punched, kicked x2, thrown, sand to the eye, exhausted 6x06 Shawn Interrupted - Mental patient, hands covered, knocked unconscious, restrained, held at gunpoint 6x09 Neil Simons Lover Retreat - Robbed, heartbroken x2 (29:35), smile through the pain (42:00) 6x10 Indiana Shawn and the Temple - Hand stuck, slapped, manhandled, held at gunpoint, 'crying' 6x13 Let's Doo-Wap it Again - Appendicitis, collapse, hospital drama-queen, held at gunpoint, drugged, drugs wear off, le rigor mortis, le pain, le kitty cat! 6x16 Santabarbaratown - Held at knifepoint, knocked unconscious, black-eye

7x01 Santabarbaratown 2 - Scared, angry, thrown, active mine, held at gunpoint x3, Lassie love 7x02 Juliet Takes A Luvvah - Traumatized (27:00) 7x03 Lassie Jerky - Shot at, held at gunpoint 7x04 No Country For Two Old Men - Held at gunpoint 7x06 Cirque Du Soul - Pain from pull-ups 7x07 Deez Nups - Huge confession, heartbroken 7x08 Right Turn Or Left For Dead - Insomnia, regret, depressed, head slammed into glass, bruise, concussion, denial, stabbed, nearly hit by truck, headache, tackled 7x11 Office Space - Poked x2, trips, bloody nose, scared, framed 7x14 No Trout About It - Painful yoga, choked, fired

8x01 Lock, Stock… - Held at gunpoint, "restrained" 8x05 COG Blocked - Jumpscared out of hammock, painful poke, body decked by cane, held at gunpoint 8x07 Shawn & Gus Truck Things Up - Hand squeezed painfully 8x09 Nightmare on State Street - Slapped, zombie 8x10 The Break-Up - Nervous, held at gunpoint, shot at, emotional

[spenceragnewfics]

as the ABSOLUTE CHAMPION of whumpfic in all fandoms, I will never not request fics in which he's hurt and y/n takes care of him. I will request this to literally anyone who will listen, the word must be spread. :P

(not really into the torture-style whump where there's someone like lowkey abusing them, gimme all the broken legs and car accidents and fainting spells and all that fun stuff. :P )

I have never written a whump fic and I've read very few but I hope this is what you were hoping for.

HIS CARETAKER | Spencer Agnew x F!Reader

TW: Major injury, blood, needle, stitches

Word Count: 872

Description: Y/N has always been a caretaker, she just didn't realize how much she would need to be one for her boyfriend.

Y/N has always dealt with accident-prone people. Her little sister is very accident-prone so she’s been a caretaker since she could remember. When she moved to LA from her hometown, she didn’t think she would have to continue to be one until she met her loving but very accident-prone boyfriend, Spencer Agnew.

Spencer is one of the nicest, sweetest, most understanding people you could ever meet, but this man gets hurt just about every time he walks. Cuts, scrapes, bumps, everything you could think of this man has and very often. His hands are almost always wrapped in some kind of bandage done amazingly by his loving girlfriend.

Thankfully, he hasn’t had anything too major happen yet. No broken bones, no hospital visits, just small cuts and bruises. So Y/N is happy to take care of him as long as he doesn’t do something super stupid.

One day at Smosh, Y/N is putting the finishing touches on Arasha’s makeup before she goes to the games set. As the head of the makeup and hair department at Smosh, Y/N is always busy making sure the cast looks amazing.

“Okay, Rasha you look stunning as always. Now get Chanse over here, he’s my last one for this shoot.” 

“Of course, thanks again,” Arasha says before hugging her and walking off to get Chanse. Y/N gets a little bit of time to clean her brushes and area before Chanse arrives. While she’s doing that, she feels a hand on her back. Normally, she’d jump but the familiar cologne makes her smile instead, “Hey, honey. Whatcha doin'?”

“Just coming to see how everything’s going before we do this shoot. Are we still good for dinner tonight?” He asks, his hand resting on her waist while he looks at her lovingly. “Of course, you know I never turn down free food.” Spencer rolls his eyes with a small laugh before kissing her cheek. “If that’s how you see it, I’ll see you after the shoot.”

The two share a quick kiss before he walks off to the games set, “Honestly, you two make me believe in love.” Chanse says while walking over to the makeup station. “Well thank you. I know you’ll find the perfect guy one day, Chanse. Just gotta give it time.” She says, sitting him down as she starts on his makeup.

It doesn’t take her long to finish Chanse’s make-up and when she does, she starts to clean up. She has it down to a science after doing this job for so long. Checking the time, she sees that it’s still a while before the games shoot will be over so she decides to get her a snack.

Almost an hour later, the doors to the games set burst open with Courtney running out. “Y/N! Y/N!” They scream, looking around for the girl. Hearing her name being yelled, she gets out of her chair at her desk and looks around before seeing the blonde running up to her, “Court, what’s wrong?” She asks, holding her friend’s arms in comfort.

“It’s Spencer, he hurt himself. We need you, like now.” Hearing that her boyfriend is hurt, she quickly grabs the first aid kit she has at her desk before running with Courtney back to the games stage.

“She’s here, Spence. It’s going to be okay.” Arasha says when she sees Y/N running in. Everyone moves away as she gets close and kneels on the ground. She looks over at her boyfriend whose hand is bleeding heavily, a huge gash evident. “Shh, shh, it’s going to be okay, baby.” She assures him, as she opens the first aid kit.

“I’m so sorry, I was being stupid.” He says, trying to look at his hand but she stops him. “Don’t look at it, Spence. Just look at me.” She says, grabbing the needed supplies: alcohol wipes, thread, and a needle.

“What happened, guys?” She asks the room as she starts to clean his hand. “We were trying to do a bit but it went wrong and he got cut. I’m so sorry, Y/N.” Chanse apologizes, his voice wavering. 

“It’s okay, I just…can we clear the stage for the time being?” She asks, her eyes not leaving the wound on his hand as she continues to clean it. “Yeah, yeah, come on guys.” Alex Tran says, moving into his producer role and having everyone leave, Y/N and Spencer being the only ones on stage.

“I’m so sorry, babe. You’re always having to take care of me and I just-” Spencer says, but she stops him. “Charles Spencer Agnew, I do not care. I take care of you because I want to. I love you and I will take care of you.” She says while grabbing the needle and thread.

“Now this will hurt but you need stitches. You’re lucky my mother was a nurse.” She teases before starting on the stitches. He winces every so often before she finishes and kisses it.

“Thank you, I don’t know what I would do without you.” He says, smiling at her. “Bleed out or be dead on the side of a road.” She jokes before leaning in to kiss him.

[where-is-my-whump]

Criminal Minds 9x23/24

[aceofwhump]

Leverage: Redemption 3x01

[pathologicalreid]

could you do a third part to buried alive where the reader finally gets a bit better and goes out into the field for the first time and then the team goes and gets drinks after bc they are so proud of her :) -🌱

back again | S.R.

part one | part two

in which you go back into the field (and kick ass)

who? spencer reid x fem!BAU!reader

category? angst and then fluff

content warnings: established relationship. PTSD undertones. guns and physical fighting. reader is paired with morgan and kicks ass. usual cm case stuff. going to a bar and alcohol consumption. use of 'ass'. reader is referred to as a girl.

word count: 1.8k

a/n: hey anon i love you!!! i never expected people to like this story so much, but im so grateful i hope you enjoy!! thanks for reading <3 don't forget to like and reblog <3333333333

It felt good. Standing outside of a suspect's house with Morgan felt normal to you, having your firearm holstered, felt right.

He was trying to get ahold of the team, but the two of you were far from the town and, apparently, cell service. “The call keeps dropping, but they know where we are. They should be on their way,” he told you, getting out of the car. “If you’re uncomfortable going in, you don’t have to.”

You rolled your eyes and got out of the SUV. “I’ve got your back,” you responded self-assuredly. It was your first case back in the field, and besides, you weren’t about to let Derek walk into the lion's den alone.

Despite your attempt at confidence, you hadn’t planned on going to a suspect's house. The two of you had been on your way back from talking to a victim’s family, meaning you didn’t have vests. “I know you do,” Morgan confirmed, removing his sunglasses and snapping the temples down. “Go around back, I’ll take the front,” he said.

Nodding, you unholstered your weapon and kept it pointed toward the ground, you took a deep breath before wrapping around the white farmhouse.

Paranoid thoughts pelted your brain. Did you remember to shut off your phone’s ringer? What if the suspect had a gun? What if the information you were given was wrong and you didn’t have probable cause?

You shook your head, peeking in through the open blinds, you saw the kitchen. The town you were in was on the smaller side, and the only thing that surrounded you was farmland. You saw movement out of the corner of your eye and wished you had been given more time to prepare, having comms right now would be remarkably helpful.

Approaching the back door, you leaned against the siding before reaching over and turning the doorknob. It was already unlocked, which could either be a good thing or a bad thing. You swung the door open and stepped inside the house, pointing your Glock around the kitchen, you saw Morgan entering the living room in your peripheral vision. “Clear!” You called out, and shortly after, Morgan called the same.

Once you had cleared the main floor, Morgan moved upstairs and you moved downstairs, pulling your flashlight from your belt, you pointed it down the steps.

“Jackson Fike this is the FBI,” you called, making yourself known. You reached the bottom of the stairs, just to see another door, wide open. “Damn it,” you cursed, “Morgan, he’s running!” You shouted, hoping your voice would be able to carry up two flights of stairs.

You pocketed your flashlight and took off running out the door. Distantly, you saw a man fitting the suspect's description sprinting towards the woods. Without a second thought, you followed, expecting Derek to be not far behind you.

Thankfully, it was still light outside, the scent of the damp earth filled your senses, but it didn’t overwhelm you. You wouldn’t let it.

You skidded to a halt in the forest, keeping your back to a tree so you could be attacked from behind, “Jackson Fike, you can’t keep running like this. You know as well as I do that the road ends here.” You spoke loudly, hoping he heard you from wherever he had disappeared into the woods.

His choices here boiled down to giving himself up or being on the run for the rest of his life. Based on the profile the team had put together, he would never be able to leave this town. Not by choice, at least.

The snap of a twig gave his location away, you twisted your body in the direction of the noise. Your ears perked up like a bloodhound. “Jackson, if you come with me and tell me where the girls are, maybe I could see about keeping you close to home. Close to your house, that’s what’s important, right?” You tried to negotiate with him. You didn’t know if he was armed, but you did know that suicide by cop wasn’t in his profile. It was also less paperwork if you cuffed him without a fight.

“You can’t make me that promise, agent,” he responded. His voice was gravelly despite only being in his late thirties. “Why would I negotiate with a fed when I could just kill one instead?” He asked.

His question sent a chill down your spine all the way down to where your handcuffs rested on your back. “You’re right,” you ceded, “You’d be worshipped in prison for killing a fed, but why take that chance?”

In a flash, the UnSub smacked your wrist, causing a misfire into the trees, and making your weapon hit the ground.

That was fine, your marksmanship was good enough to pass your qualifications, but hand-to-hand was where you really excelled. He charged at you, but you jumped out of the way.

Closer to the farmhouse you heard voices, but you didn’t let yourself get distracted. Instead, you used your one boxing lesson with JJ and kicked. The inside of your foot provided enough surface to daze your opponent, he stumbled around, and you made sure to keep both of your feet firmly planted to the ground.

He swung back, but you ducked just in time to feel the breeze of his swing against your face. In response, you swung back, hitting him across the face.

Jackson retaliated, using both hands to push you into a tree, crushing your shoulder but not doing anything to stop you from throwing another hit, striking him on the head, and causing him to fall to the ground. He groaned as you crouched down and pulled your cuffs out, fastening them around his wrists.

As you read him his rights, the local police and the rest of your team approached you. Emily looked at you warily, Spencer was searching for injuries, but Morgan was grinning. He was like a giddy little kid who had heard the ice cream truck turn on his street.

Handing off the UnSub to a local, you eyed Morgan suspiciously, “What are you smiling at?” You asked, rotating your shoulder in a failed attempt to make it feel better.

“You took that guy down,” Derek said, gesturing to where the police officer was now taking the UnSub.

Confused, you shrugged, “Yeah, and?”

He laughed again, “Oh, you are so back, pretty girl.”

A flight later, you were hunched over takedown paperwork, something you certainly hadn’t missed during your time away from the field. At the desk adjacent to yours, Spencer was flipping through a book, waiting for you so you could go home.

After initialing each page and signing the last one, you placed the papers into the confidential file. Going up the stairs to Hotch’s office, you knocked on the door, “Come in.”

You stepped into the office and reached over to hand him the file, “My takedown paperwork for Jackson Fike.”

He nodded, the stern look on his face fading as he looked at you, “You did impressive work today, Y/L/N. By taking the initiative to arrest Fike, you saved the three girls he had captive.”

Shrugging, you fiddled with his nameplate, “I just did what felt right.”

“Other agents would’ve shot him, and it would’ve been justified, but you didn’t,” Hotch said, raising his eyebrows. “It’s good to see you out in the field again,” he told you in that fatherly, parental tone of his.

You looked out the window of his office, “It’s good to be back out, sir.” Watching as the rest of the team gathered back into the bullpen, “I thought everyone had already left?”

Hotch set your file down and stood from his desk, “I believe they were all waiting for you in Garcia’s office.”

Confused, you walked outside of the office and down the steps, “Hey?” You said cautiously, looking around at everyone, “What’s going on?” You looked at Spencer, but he just shrugged like he didn’t know any more than you did.

“We,” Derek said, “are going to O’Keefe’s,” he said, grinning as you reached over your desk to grab your bag and your coat.

Shoving your arms through the sleeves of your coat, you looked at the team curiously, “I’m getting the sense that I don’t have much of a choice in this outing.”

Grinning, Penelope excitedly walked towards you, looping her arm through yours and leading you out of the bullpen, “you don’t!”

You laughed, looking back at Spencer, who was just smiling at you. It wasn’t in your nature to turn down what Emily called ‘team bonding’, so the lot of you went to the familiar bar, a place you hadn’t been in nearly four months.

At the same table as always, standing room only with the eight of you, Rossi paid for all of your preferred drinks. Something you had learned to not protest over the years, as long as he was there, he’d never let you pay for your drinks.

Casually, Spencer had his arm around your waist, the two of you were more affectionate outside of the office. “How’s your shoulder?” He asked, gently skimming the pad of his thumb over the sensitive skin. Naturally, Spencer didn’t say anything in front of the team when you mentioned being shoved into a tree, but behind closed doors, he had asked to take a look at it.

You hummed in response, leaning into his touch, “Better, just bruised a bit.”

He dropped his hand back down to your waist, “good,” he whispered, ducking his head, and pressing a kiss to your cheek, causing you to smile.

Grabbing your attention, Derek cleared his throat and raised his glass in your general direction. “Tonight is about you, pretty girl,” he said, causing everyone else to turn to you. Your cheeks burned, “not only did you kick some UnSub ass, but you threw yourself back into the field after months on the sidelines.”

At your side, Spencer squeezed your hip, you were grinning like a fool.

“It has been an honor to be able to watch you reclaim yourself. I, for one, am proud of that accomplishment,” Morgan continued. “I hope you’re proud of yourself, too.”

You nodded enthusiastically, “Thank you. All of you, really.” You reached forward where everyone was clinking their glasses before taking a sip. Setting your glass down, you turned and looked at Spencer, “I love you,” you whispered to him.

He dropped a kiss to your lips, earning a whoop from Garcia. When he pulled away, he smiled at you softly, “I love you too.”

[bunbunbl0gs]

in love with spencer reid

masterlist

criminal minds masterlist

join my tag list here :)

[lemissingmask]

[ID: Messy sketch in grey scale with blood in red of Eliot Spencer with his arms chained behind his back and raised slightly by attachment of the chain to some point above him. He’s wearing a t-shirt and looks angry, and there’s dried blood on his face and t-shirt. End ID]

-

Whumptober Day 9: Arms restrained behind back

A messy last minute addition done with jet lag 🫣

[letthewhumpbegin]

Criminal Minds, s4e24

My GIF masterlist

[whumpiii]