summary: reader mistakingly picks a lock to the wrong apartment in the dead of night when attempting to get into a friend’s apartment.
warnings: fluff, ooc spencer, mentions of alcohol
word count: 1.5 k
a/n: I know it’s been a while, I haven’t had much inspiration and have been very busy, but I conjured up this little thing a bit ago and decided to post. This is a little ooc for Spencer but I thought the idea was too fun not to share.
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The darkness of the hallway seemed to blend together in pitch blackness, I couldn’t really tell where the edge of the hallway and the wall met. My ankles had began to swell and I felt as if I could barely hold up my body weight for much longer.
“Why did I have to wear these damn shoes,” I cursed to myself.
I had yet to memorize the layout of the apartment building, I’ve only been staying with a friend for the past few days and this hallway seemed never-ending. Around the corner, there was a window with a sliver of moonlight that cast a faint light against the wall, subtly outlining the multitude of door frames.
I probably should have left the bar when Avery did, instead of entertaining the broad stature of a man with chestnut hair that only seemed interesting after my fourth shot of whatever clear liquid he was drinking. All that mattered at that moment is that the tab would be paid for by someone who wasn’t me. However, this could be seen as the universe paying its due diligence as my head felt as if it had been spun in a tilt-a-whirl.
I stopped at the furthest door on the right, from the slight squint of my eyes, I was able to make out the golden letters that seemed to read 26 C. I rummaged through the leather bag perched on my shoulder, taking out the spare key that Avery leant to me. But the knob wouldn’t budge, I assumed that I may have inserted it backwards, so I tried once again. Still nothing.
I frantically shook the doorknob but suddenly realized how late it was and did not feel the desire to be on a grumpy neighbour’s bad side. I knew that Avery was a heavy sleeper – and most likely wouldn’t move a muscle if I called her – so I resorted to the one trick that I learned at my seventh grade sleep away camp. I raked my fingers through my hair, in search for a bobby pin. I knelt down on the floor, the bobby pin gripped in between my fingers and began to twist. I heard the satisfying click, becoming impatient, I forcefully twisted the doorknob and let myself in.
The door closed behind me louder than anticipated but I didn’t care, Avery wouldn’t even flinch. I just needed to be enveloped in a bundle of warmth before being rudely awakened with a raging hangover early in the afternoon.
I began to rid myself of my shoes, before a stream of frantic footsteps came stumbling into the main area.
“Who are you?” The voice is deep and raspy, mixed with fear and hostility. They’re holding what seems to be a small object, but I couldn’t make it out.
I couldn’t make out any details really, the only light in the room was from the windows, the moonlight creating a subtle outline of obvious features.
The man was tall and thin, with dishevelled hair. His eyes were bright, widened and seemingly wild as they flickered all over me. My heart started to race, but I couldn’t clearly focus.
I gripped my shoe in my right hand, silently thankful that they had a thin and pointy heel.
“Who am I?” I breathed out, equally as terrified. “Who are you? What are you doing here?”
“I live here!” He yelled, obviously gaining more confidence than he previously had. “You need to leave, or I’ll call the police,” he warned.
I looked around the room more intricately, suddenly realizing that I didn’t recognize anything in here. I felt extremely flustered and, most of all, more delirious than I had before.
“Please don’t call the police,” I croaked out, sounding pathetic. “I thought this was my friend’s apartment, this isn’t 26 C?”
“No, this is 23 C, 26 C is right across from here,” he answered flatly.
I leaned down to wedge my feet back into my shoes, but decided to just ditch them altogether, it’ll make my escape faster and less painful.
Much to my surprise, he turned on the apartment’s light. He was much taller than he looked before, still just as thin as I suspected. His hair was dark, and matted to his forehead, rounded glasses perched on the bridge of his nose.
The apartment was filled with a multitude of books, enough to house a personal library. It filled me with a warm feeling, until I realized that I’d been gawking around the room for too long without saying a word.
“Look, I’m really sorry. It was a late night, I’ve been just recently staying with a friend and I don’t know the area well, or this building quite frankly. I…I’m very embarrassed and I really am sorry,” I muttered all in one breath.
He ran his hands through his hair, brushing away the waves that fell in front of his eyes. His face softened to a state that was reminiscent of pity.
“It’s alright,” he said, but I still didn’t sound convinced.
“I just thought you were a burglar, or worst-case scenario, an axe murderer,” he continued, letting out a half-hearted laugh.
The tightness in my chest alleviated and I managed to even crack a smile at the comment. I glanced down at his hand, more specifically at the object clutched in his grasp. A ceramic figurine of a dolphin.
“So if I was an axe murderer, you decided to go with that instead of a useful weapon?” I gesture toward the object coloured in light blue. “How common are axe murders around here anyway?”
He looked down at his hand for a moment before glancing back at me. “You may be surprised how solid this is, one knock to the side of the head, they could be out like a light.”
He adjusted the frames sitting perfectly on his face. “Anyway, you can never be too careful, I see a lot of dangerous people.” He paused, taking note of the confused expression on my face.
“I’m a Supervisory Special Agent with the FBI,” he said casually, as if it were a mediocre desk job.
“An FBI agent?” My eyes widened from the revelation, of course my accidental and not to mention harmless intrusion was in the apartment of a literal government agent.
“I’m not going to be arrested for this am I?” I wouldn’t have been so bold as to ask if I weren’t still feeling the buzz from the alcohol.
“No, but next time, a simple knock would probably suffice,” he responded.
After an awkward air of silence, I slid my black purse back over my shoulder, finally in preparation for my departure.
“Well, sorry again for all of this …” I paused, realizing I didn’t know his name.
“Spencer.”
“I’m Y/N.” I turned around, reaching for the doorknob and turning the door open. “I guess I’ll see you around,” I said, facing him a final time.
“Preferably during the day.”
I let out a small laugh. “Right.”
______________________________
Avery was using the blender to make a smoothie, which was much too loud for a Sunday. I trudged over to the kitchen island, a fleece blanket draped over me.
“Long night?” She smirked, pouring two glasses of a pale pink liquid.
She held up the whipped cream can and I nodded, she swirled a nice spiral onto the top of the glass, plopping a straw inside and sliding it over to me.
“You can say that,” I muttered, in between sips.
I explained the story in depth, the horrifying revelation of me stumbling into a stranger’s apartment. A stranger who I made an interesting impression on. One that I now had to avoid for the next month until the embarrassment washed away.
“How disoriented were you that you couldn’t differentiate between the number 6 and 3?” She laughed, relishing in my embarrassment.
“Definitely enough to scare the shit out of Spencer.”
“Spencer.” Avery drew out his name, she looked as if she was determining whether she liked the way it sounded out loud. “He’s got a cute name,” she said, leaning over the wooden countertop.
“That’s what you got from this, that he has a cute name?”
“Listen, a person’s name is an important signifier of their character. Like a Brody, you know you’re going to be talking football stats and have meaningless surface-level conversations, but with a Spencer …” She trailed off in a sing-song voice, stirring the remnants of a strawberry smoothie in her glass.
I took in a deep breath, shimmying out of the blanket and throwing it at her.
“I think I’m going to take a walk,” I said, before walking toward the door.
“Don’t forget it’s twenty-six C!” Avery called from behind me, as the door shut.
I took a step backward only to be met with the sudden force of someone’s body nudging mine, I instinctually let out a shriek. I already had a headache that was barely dissipating, no matter how strong the Tylenol was, and this mishap wasn’t helping.
I turned to face the culprit, only to be met with the dark eyes that, to my luck, belonged to Spencer. A sweater vest was tucked neatly into his dark slacks, his arms carrying what seemed to be bags of groceries.
“We have to stop meeting like this,” he joked, his cheeks tinging a light shade of pink.
A/N: this was for another amazing fic swap organized by @imagining-in-the-margins! This is my sfw fluffy fic for @broken-stardust and I just had to do this idea with chip as soon as I saw the prompt!!!! I’ve got so many fics prewritten now! Just gotta find some sliver of time to post them lol
Summary: Reader has lost something precious to them, and someone unexpected finds it.
Warnings: no- this is the fluffiest shit ever lol though there are a few swear words
Shit- oh my god where is she, oh my god where the fuck is she? She couldn’t have gotten far, I mean, this park isn’t that big. The only downside is that she isn’t that big either…
Who knows where she could’ve gotten, and maybe she hadn’t even run away. Maybe, she was stuck in some bush somewhere wondering where her Daddy was.
I swear I had never run so fast in my life trying to look in every nook and cranny this park had. My mind was also running as fast as me, analyzing every which way she could’ve gone. If I ever found her I would never let her out of my sight ever again, and I certainly wasn’t tying her leash to a pole again.
I ran up to the closest people I saw near me next, asking them if they had seen her run off somewhere looking for the next big smell, or the nearest hot dog she could’ve nabbed from a picnic table. And, of course no one had seen her anywhere, which either meant she ran off so fast that no one saw, or that she was still nearby.
“Sir? Is this dog yours?” I then whipped my head around to find the source of the noise, which happened to be coming from right behind me. After focusing my eyes to find the voice I saw the tall lanky man who held the leash that was attached to the sweet girl I had been missing.
I recognized him immediately as a regular that lived in the trailer park just down the block. The one time I chatted with him he had said he comes down here to see a nice park that wasn’t littered with so much trash. And, I’m pretty sure he wasn’t only referring to the litter.
“Oh, Chip, thank you so much!” I practically sprinted and yelled over to him. My baby girl was wagging her tail proudly, trying to run around in circles to catch her tail as usual. I’m sure in her head she was saying ‘look who I found Dad! It’s that man you rant to me about how cute he his!’
If I didn’t know any better I’d have sworn she did it on purpose, I had just been saying to her last night after a bottle of wine how I wish I had the courage to approach him again with a conversation. Now I had no choice, but I was so relieved that I had found her that my nervousness was thrown out of the window quickly.
“Hey, I found something of yours.” He joked a little, flashing his smile that he undoubtedly didn’t know how adorable was.
“Oh, Chip, how can I ever repay you!?” I gasped and fell to my knees, scratching my puppy all the places that she loved. She did seem happy to see me thankfully, I would’ve assumed she was trying to get away from me if she wasn’t so obsessed with running away no matter who was with her.
“You don’t need to repay me, but it would be nice to talk to you more often.” He was looking at his shoes and mine, seemingly embarrassed by his cute little request.
Once I stood up I then dipped my hand tentatively underneath his chin, grazing across his scratchy cheeks to tilt his jaw up. Now that his eyes were pointed at mine again, I leaned forward to place a small kiss on his cheek. And, I loved the little scratches I felt again, though this time it was across my lips.
When I pulled away his eyes were wide and his cheeks were flushed the brightest red I had ever seen on someone. My own cheeks were a little heated now, but I was able to keep my chin high enough to say, “I can promise that, Chip.”
He then handed me the leash attached to my baby with shaky hands. I grabbed it eagerly, while also sneakily making sure my hand grazed his nimble fingers.
I gave him a little wave back, and a small smile before giving him my goodbye, “Thank you, Chip, I’ll see you around” And, next time, I was definitely getting his number to put in my contacts.
This fic is a special one for another fic swap I participated in! This one is for @lexieshuntingsstuff✨
“Crying Over a Dead Man”
Spencer Reid x Reader
Warnings - mention of shooting, killing and criminals but with a fluffy ending?
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My heart was pounding as 3 shots from my gun fired true.
The sound of the each one echoed in my ears and a shiver ran down my spine.
My legs turned to jelly and I felt the world slow around me.
The man who stood straight ahead of me, now lay flat on the pavement.
A gasp left my mouth as I hit the cobblestone, time resuming.
“I’ve just killed a man”
I did my best to focus on my breathing but to no avail, I couldn’t stop the tears either.
I was crying. No, I was hyperventilating… over a criminal?
The team surround me but I only look for one face.
His face, Spencer’s face.
I feel his arms hook around my body and I’m raised from the ground.
He holds me close but I couldn’t focus. The tears fell but my face was vacant. I was numb.
Every time I tried to wipe the tears, more would fall and every time I tried to speak my throat would close up.
So, I remained silent. Silent on the plane ride back, and silent on the ride back to my apartment.
Spencer would glance in my direction every once in awhile but didn’t question me, I’d smile every now and then to reassure him but that was the best I could give him.
That night, I lay in bed replaying the events over and over again in my head. I couldn’t rid the sounds of the shots I fired.
I shivered and pulled the duvet over my body, trying to feel a sense of safety.
“Y/n? Are you okay?” Spencer whispers.
I reach for his hand and he moves across the bed towards me.
I curl into him as the sobs escape from me once again.
Spencer cradles me and whispers sweet nothings into my as an attempt to calm me.
“It’s okay, let it out. Let it all out”
I don’t know how long I laid there in his arms but when the tears finally cease I look towards my boyfriend.
“Why am I crying over a dead man Spencer? He was a criminal. A dangerous person. He doesn’t deserve my tears.”
Spence looks down at me with his big brown eyes before pressing a kiss on my forehead.
“Crying for a man, no matter if he’s good or bad isn’t wrong. It shows you are human and capable of emotion. Emotions like empathy and above all mercy”
His voice was gentle, calm but I felt the weight of his words.
I was not a bad person for showing emotion even to someone who may not deserve it.
I love my job, I love Spencer and I love the life I have now and I won’t let one person ruin that.
summary: early in y/n’s and spencer’s relationship, y/n fears the growing distance between them, although what seemed to be possible infidelity, is actually much worse–for spencer.
word count: 1,007 reading time: 4 mins
warnings: angst
a/n: HERE IS THE FINALE!!! I’ve had the most amazing time writing with the talented @goldentournesol. Steph is incredible and so creative, please show her some love! Hope you enjoy :)
I was afraid the chocolate he got me would taste sour, but it was luscious. I found comfort in the sweetness, just as I had found comfort in Spencer. It’s been a week since his confession. I also couldn’t help but feel a little ridiculous in my accusations. I had jumped to conclusions and couldn’t see the signs of my boyfriend in pain. The guilt ate away at me for a while, but Spencer let me know that he had been hiding it to the best of his ability. I eventually told him that I wanted to be the one he ran to when he was in pain. Both of us had our fair share of issues with vulnerability and insecurity, but that didn’t mean we couldn’t work through them together.
And so, here I sat, my head in his lap, his hand in my hair like all those weeks ago. This time, when our gazes met, there were no underlying feelings. No words left unsaid. The air was finally cleared and we could finally breathe. The air tasted sweeter somehow, now that I understood fully. The past week was not easy. Reconciliation was a bumpy road and I was not prepared for the ride. Spencer and I are stubborn, proud individuals. I had almost kicked him out of my apartment that night. I had almost ended the relationship right then and there. What else was I supposed to do when he’d said such vicious things?
But he’d seen the crack in my armor. The room was heavy with the guilt I felt and my subsequent tears were even heavier. The tears fell free before I could even tell them not to. His behavior made sense. I saw it then, he’d squint if the room was too bright and would often ask me to turn the TV volume down. His stories had become less animated, he had become less animated. He was going to sleep much earlier than he usually did. I should have caught on, but I just assumed that his long days had taken a toll on him. Spencer was no stranger to overworking himself.
He explained that he’d gone to countless doctors and I expressed how upset it made me that he was going through all that on his own. I could have been there for him, I could have supported him, but he wasn’t used to having someone to lean on. He was his own protection all his life, and I understood that. I made it clear that he had someone to lean on now, someone who loved him and looked after him.
The doctors had trouble diagnosing him so he referred to a renowned geneticist. She was one of the greatest minds in her field apparently. It was a she, after all, and she had a name. Maeve Donovan. It was easier to have a name. It personified her. She was less of an abstract being and more of a person. I thought about how much of my time and energy she’d unknowingly spent before I even knew who she was. Or I guess I was the one who’d spent it.
“How are you feeling?” I asked, looking up at Spencer, who was focused on the TV now. He finally had the weekend off after finishing a case in Wisconsin. I’d been tasked by Dr. Donovan to make sure that he’s getting at least eight hours of sleep each night. He’d been good at going to bed on time, his issue was with staying asleep more than going to sleep, anyway.
“I’ve been better, but to be honest, I’ve also been much worse.” He shrugged. Spencer’s eyes were never unkind, his soul was too kind to let them show anything other than that. Even now, his eyes were soft, even softer due to the dim light in my apartment.
“Is there anything I can do to help?” I sat up to face him. I’d been doing my own research on migraines. Mostly how to relieve pain. Dr. Donovan also mentioned a series of supplements that he had to keep track of. I’ve made sure to incorporate more vitamin-enriched foods into our diet as well as made sure to keep him adequately hydrated.
I recognized the mischief in his eyes before he could even get a word out, “Actually, I think it’s time for my hourly dose of kisses.”
I threw my head back in a hearty laugh before cupping his face gingerly and bringing it closer to mine, “Who am I to deny you your medication?”
His grin was contagious, it went straight to my heartstrings and I felt weightless when he looked at me like that. His hands were perched on my waist and I brushed our noses together once before sealing our lips.
Together we lived in the clouds, sharing the same bubble. We’ve finally rebuilt the fantasy we had before, although this time a newfound trust had formed. However, that is not to say that everything was instantly perfect. Frankly, I think that the inexperience and the unknown is what gives beauty to this world, our world. To me, anything with him was perfect, no matter what the great philosophers say. But they were right in one aspect: defining voluntaryignorance.
The bliss I felt in our intimate space was addicting, it turned my brain into gullible mush. I didn’t want to believe that eternity didn’t exist. How can it not when it feels like this? I refuse to believe it. But harsh reality does not lie, it is only ourselves willing to fall for it. One day, Spencer’s arms would no longer be around me, and his lips would no longer brush softly against mine. The bubble would shatter like glass, the deception following suit. But for now, this lie was a silent agreement between Spencer and I. No matter the blissful ignorance we shared between us; no matter the ignorance of Spencer’s remaining lucidity, I knew this was the only lie we wished to be true.
summary: early in y/n’s and spencer’s relationship, y/n fears the growing distance between them, although what seemed to be possible infidelity, is actually much worse–for spencer.
What kind of life is lived when all you’re doing is waiting for the other shoe to drop? Waiting for the inevitability of cruelty? I stepped into a relationship with Spencer never expecting that I’d be waiting for the cord to snap. He led me into a cocoon of safety, one where I never doubted his motives. One I wasn’t sure I deserved.
Three little words can seemingly make or break a relationship, and the words Spencer had uttered confirmed that theory. However, unlike in most relationships–at least the fortunate ones, it wasn’t the three-word spectacle that symbolized the deep passion or confirmation of the shared sentiments. Instead, the dreadful trinity cut me deep, symbolizing the undoing of what we have–correction, had.
“It’s a date.”
I wish I could curse the air, scream into the sky, and stomp at the earth below me, but I couldn’t help but direct all malice to me.
What did she have that I didn’t? It must’ve been my intelligence. Everyday, Spencer was surrounded by the brightest minds–him outshining the rest, although his humbled self would always discredit that matter. With a considerate heart, he would mind voicing his opinions of people out loud, keeping to himself. However, there’s a significant distinction between publicly expressing your judgement and having internal thoughts, though unshared, still exist.
This baffled me, considering Spencer had always reassured me of this particular insecurity, suppressing the disquiet of my thoughts. Would he have lied? He seemingly excels at that, as of recent, among his other accolades. I would never admit it to him, but I would often find myself skimming through the books he loved–analyzing them so I’d better understand his mind or to offer a common topic. All the things I did for him to seem smarter in the past makes me look stupid now. The wasted effort should set every fiber of my being aflame and angered, however, all I can really feel is the doubt and self-resentment pricking at the walls of my chest.
All I can show for it are the blotched texture of my cheeks from incessant wet streaks, the suffocating push and pull of my throat, and the tautness of my muscles from the inability to move. On top of that, a heavy heart that carried the haunting spirit of a failure.
This disposition left me paralyzed on a Thursday night, alone in my apartment. The parallel left me with an incredulous expression. Just last week, I was on the precipice of my relationship without knowing it–senseless to the downward spiral that followed. What would I have changed, had I known this was going to happen? I tell myself this was all on him, but what if it isn’t? What if I led him to do this? To seek love and comfort in someone else.
Spencer’s been out of town for the last four days. I should have kept up with our nightly calls, but the truth is I couldn’t hear his voice without breaking down. His calls were left unanswered and I didn’t even know if that worried him or not. My insecurities had me by the throat and I just couldn’t shake them. Why was I dreading the day he returned? I’d seen his text messages, but hadn’t bothered to reply. I didn’t want him to know that I was festering in my own self-pity, so when I finally answered the call after he texted me to let me know that he was in town, I pretended I was someone else for it.
But then I thought…maybe, just maybe, it was all in my head. Maybe he wasn’t calling her as much as he was calling me, I didn’t even know if it was a her. I still thought that I might be desperate enough for his attention. So much so that I was willing to be the second option.
The phone call was short and dry, but I did my best to pretend that I was fine. He said he would take me out on a date tomorrow. It would be Friday, not Thursday. He said he was busy today and I didn’t ask him what he was doing, I had a feeling the knowledge would only cleave our relationship further. As tempting as it felt to pull away from him even more, I must admit that I missed him. I missed the way his nose scrunched when he was listening to me talk, I missed the way he’d always chime in with his facts and stories. I missed what we had and who we were before things started to change.
I forced myself to get ready for our date the next day. I circled around my apartment like a vulture circling around its prey, as if I’d find any motivation lying around, but it felt redundant so I stopped. I sat on my couch and nervously tapped away my anxiety until the doorbell rang throughout my apartment. Taking a deep breath, I made my way over to the door and opened it to see him holding a large bouquet of flowers and a box of chocolates. He’d never been one for grand gestures, and I’d never been one for flowers and chocolates, but from him, they were precious. I let myself accept them with a smile, even though the dread was eating me alive from the inside. Don’t cheaters and psychopaths buy gifts for their victims in a way to suppress their guilt? Did I just compare my boyfriend to a psychopath?
“What’s all this for?” I asked him after he greeted me with a kiss to my cheek. I put the flowers in a vase as he spoke, following me through the hallway and into my kitchen.
“Well, I felt bad for postponing our date and you sounded upset over the phone. I’m sorry I technically missed our date night.” Spencer said, tapping his fingers on my counter, waiting for my reaction. I surveyed him under my lashes. His remorse seemed genuine, but I was no profiler. I wouldn’t be able to catch his quirks as easily as he would.
I merely nodded, “Thank you, I love them.” I said, but the words felt like they were spoken from behind me, from someone else’s mouth. His eyes raked over me like they were assessing me, just as mine had a few moments ago.
“What?” I asked, trying my best to convey curiosity instead of acidity.
“Nothing, you just seem a bit on edge.” He said, smoothing a hand over his cardigan. My eyes followed his hand instead of meeting with his. His gaze felt sharp, even though I know he didn’t mean it that way.
“I’ve just been having a hard time at work.” I dismissed the conversation and quickly changed the subject, “So, are we ready?” He nodded, dropping it and we left my apartment.
The slight chill passing between the backs of our hands felt foreign to the skin. I guess I was so accustomed to the warmth and comfort enveloping the appendage that it felt like a phantom limb. I even miss the claminess of his fingers and how my own fit perfectly between the dips in his hand. However, it was difficult to reminisce with the penetrating thoughts of resentment and self-scolding in the back of my mind.
Every other step, Spencer would ask a shallow inquiry, in which I would reply with a mindless response. It’s like we reverted back to the naive touches and suppressed sentences in the beginning of our relationship. However this time, a tense air constricted the blood flow to our heads.
“So, what’s been going on at work?” he hummed, tilting his head towards me. Without meeting his analytical gaze, I responded with a mere quirk in the lips, suggesting a less than satisfactory experience. He nodded, sensing the imminent disinterest of the conversation.
While we walked on, I subconsciously laced my fingers togethers and observed the oscillating space between us. My feet staggered as I took a heavy interest in kicking stray pebbles and counting the cracks on the sidewalk. At this point, Spencer’s baffled yet indistinguishable expression had locked onto the side of my face. I would never mind his curiosity, but this time sent pins and needles shooting down my spine.
Unable to handle the suffocating air, I pushed the words off of my tongue and took a leap, “What did you do yesterday?” I sputtered out, cringing out how desperate and invasive I sounded; huffing, I rephrased my question to be less encroaching. Although why would that matter at this point? We’ve hit our climax, and we’re frankly teetering on the precipice.
“I had to deal with some family business,” he admitted breathlessly, a stutter undetectable in his words. I peaked at him from my disengaged stature, noticing the slight hilt in his voice was gone–a tell of dishonesty that was usually easy to spot. I guess he really did get better at it; they say continued practice makes perfect, right?
My head throbbed at the thought, and my nails dug into the surface of my fist. “Family business,” I nodded, not noticing the pure indignation evident in my tone. I hadn’t even realized that the phrase came out as a jesting scoff until Spencer had called my attention.
“Is something wrong?” He stopped suddenly, straying a few steps behind me as he waited. I could tell by the firmness of his voice that he was slightly annoyed by my reclusive behavior. Everyone had a limit, and Spencer wasn’t an exception to that.
I shook it off, finding my composure once again. I fought the bubbling feeling of impulsivity, the wanting to throw the whole world at him for deceiving me. I suppressed the desire to scream and yell, leaving them hidden in my imagination. I detested the way his eyes would scan over me in a mixed expression of pity and displeasure, adding onto the blaze inside my stomach.
“No.”
My delivery left me stunned, and hearing the tenacity and resolve in my voice was almost unheard of. Although it did set a culpable insecurity in mind, knowing that it sprang from a place of abhorrence and anger. The second the word fell breathlessly off my tongue, it rubbed Spencer the wrong way. We’ve had petty fights before, but as individuals we’ve always advocated for fighting the problem together rather than each other. I hate to admit it, but between the two of us, it wasn’t surprising that Spencer had a sound mind. At least, that’s what I knewof.
He took a deep breath, as if he were resetting himself and shoved his hands into the pockets of his coat, “Let’s just eat something.” Instead of fighting, I heard him add, but of course he didn’t actually say it.
-
I wish I had the privilege of saying that dinner was intense or full of passive-aggressive bickering but instead it was a suffocating silence, only broken by conversing with our server. The room shrunk to the size of an elevator, and the extravagant decor transformed into four silver surrounding walls. Despite being only 3 feet away from each other, our presence felt miles away. At one point, I even contemplated fabricating a convoluted excuse to leave abruptly but it was my pride that prevented me from doing so.
The walk back to my apartment was even more tense. Spencer’s breathing pattern was off. I couldn’t remember when I’d begun analyzing his breathing, but I could tell something was off. The second the door of my unit slammed shut, I knew I was trapped in a vulnerable position. Spencer leaned against the door, dissecting every movement I made. I felt scrutinized under his line of sight, my resolve shrinking into nonexistence while I bit my tongue.
He scoffed under his breath, throwing his coat and phone onto the side table by the entrance. “So are we going to talk about what happened, or frankly, the lack of anything happening back there?” He held a pointed gaze, shifting his weight onto his hip. His tongue swiped the bottom of his lip, patiently waiting for an answer.
A breath was caught in my throat, preventing me from getting any words out. I refused to face him, keeping myself busy by trying to find a place for my belongings. I knew I had to be wise with my next words, however, my impulsivity was, sooner than later, going to send me into a fit of combustion. I found myself teetering at the precipice once again, thinking back to the lies and excuses he shamelessly threw my way. On the other hand, I couldn’t help but confide in the sunlight of our past. With only a few more seconds of running oxygen, I sighed, mumbling a deflecting response, “There’s not really much to talk about.”
The soft bang against the door caught me off guard. Shock ran through me as I turned around with an incredulous expression. My stature unconsciously shriveled into itself in fright as Spencer’s fist slide from the oak door. My mouth hung open, frozen in state, unable to form coherent sentences. Never once had I seen Spencer express himself by physical means, let alone operate on his own anger. Maybe it was the present naivety that lingered in our relationship, but judging by the discreet upset shown on his face, he too was stupefied.
“What is going on with you lately?” I asked, looking at him with a certain level of incredulity. His mouth flew open as his brows rose to his hairline. The once tense hands dropped to his sides as he swiped a few hairs from his face.
He gestured to the air with a nonchalant figure before deflecting the question at hand. “I could ask you the same thing, Y/N.” I could hear the slight stagger in his tone, like he was holding a part of himself back. It must’ve been the adrenaline pumping through his veins from whatever affair he participated in. Frankly it made me question the integrity of his fib; how long was he going to hold out on me?
I couldn’t distinguish between the thoughts of Spencer possibly continuing this fib because of his cowardice or if Spencer truly thought I was too gullible. Both sent a blaze through me that attacked every piece of rationality I had left; it was as if shots of espresso were injected into my veins. Spencer’s elusive response hadn’t helped with the compelling sensation either, leaving me defenseless against my absurdity.
Although, to think of it, is it really illogical to be vexed by Spencer’s vague behavior?
“Me?! I’m not the one who’s being secretive.” I defended, my fists at my side.
“And how exactly am I being secretive, y/n?” Spencer raised his voice, an unfamiliar boom echoing throughout the room. “Please! Tell me ‘exactly,’ how I’m being secretive.” He responded like a petulant child, emphasizing simple words to enhance the condescension in his tone.
“Oh, so you think I haven’t noticed the calls? The way you hide your phone from my view when you get a notification? Do you really think I’m that stupid, Spencer?” I said.
“And, how is that exactly being secretive, y/n? I have my own business to attend to,” he defended. “Frankly, I think you’re the one overstepping here!” Spencer avoided the question per usual, unconsciously switching the scope to me. I felt a bubble rise in my throat, similar to the tightness I felt whenever I cried, however this time, it was from a place of malice.
“I am not overstepping because you are being secretive! I have no idea who you’re talking to! Where were you last week? Where were you yesterday?” I fought to keep my voice even.
“How is that even your business in the first place? You’re not my mother.” His voice cracked on the last syllable, almost undetectable to unknowing ears. He tried to brush it off, using intimidation to distract from the emotion crawling up his throat. Knowing Spencer, he did a rather exceptional job, although at this moment, I suspected a chink in his resolve.
“I don’t have to be your mother to know that something is wrong! Stop deflecting!” I blurted in a fit of frustration.
“You see, you keep trying to tell me that there’s something ‘wrong,’ with me! But there’s obviously some unresolved issue that you’re getting at here to be this upset!” He threw his hands into the air, shrugging his shoulders with an air of arrogance.
“God, do not twist my words here, Spencer Reid! I did not say that there was anything wrong with you, I said there was something wrong. Unresolved issue?! What the hell does that even mean?”
“You know for someone who’s claiming to be so perceptive of what’s ‘wrong,’ you’re really awful at being self-aware. I mean…the attitude, the distance, the–the closed off expression at dinner! I mean wh-what the hell was that!” He grimaced, biting the inside of his cheek as he finished his heated spiel.
I couldn’t help but scoff at his words. Me not being self-aware! “Oh, please. Ladies and gentlemen, a world class behavioral analyst!” I gestured to him sarcastically, like a ringmaster would with his gags, hoping that Spencer could realize how ridiculous he sounded. “You tell me why I was acting so strange!” I was livid, the words that came out didn’t seem to make any sense. I just wanted him to feel what I felt.
“Oh, I’m sorry! Let me play my part,” he pathetically bowed to me, exaggerating his movements. “Here, I’ll sit and do the things that you can’t, and practically feed into all your insecurity!” He mockingly laughed, “because that’s what this is all about right? You’re not getting enough attention?”
I groaned in frustration, “You are so infuriating!” I could feel the anger ripping its way through my skull.
“And you’re so invasive! All I needed was time and space to figure a few personal things out. I’m sorry that we’re not at a point in our relationship where I’m expected to tell you every bit of my life.” He pointed to himself with such ferocity, although it was the pure indignation in his eyes that sent a harsh chill into me. “I’m notcomfortablewithyou, and that’s that.”
I couldn’t ignore the way his words stabbed their way into my heart upon hearing them. They violently ripped open a cavern in my chest and settled there. My moment of hesitation must have caught him off guard and he reeled back slightly, as if aware of what he had said. The air in the room began to shift as the silence danced between us, taunting us.
Beyond my control, my lip quivered slightly as I stared at him, my eyes growing wetter by the second, “Is that…is that why you’re cheating on me?” I asked, my voice coming out shockingly small. I was never the best at showing my emotions and being vulnerable, but if he was going to break up with me, he had to do it now before the dam released.
His eyebrows cinched together, his mouth following suit. He turned his attention away from me, taking his head in the palm of his hands. The tips of his fingers rubbed at his temples while I stood there helplessly. It was as if my words were obsolete in his ears, getting lost in the thick air. His shoulders rolled back and his chest puffed; his eyes were also scrunched closed like he was tired of hearing my voice. “God, y/n,” he whispered, dropping his head, “can we not get into his right now?”
A ball had expanded in my throat, and the gates that fortified every tear I suppressed crumbled. My chest compressed and expanded at the same time, leaving me in an aching loop. “Did… Are you just…” I bit my lip as it continued to tremble, stifling the sobs crawling up my esophagus. I leaned my head back, diverting my attention to the ceiling to save the last bit of my composure.
Soon enough, the fire from before mixed with the saltiness of the fluid staining my cheeks. I had needed some part of me alive–I needed part of me to live for me. Nonetheless, that didn’t stop the constriction of my muscles, contrasting with the exhaustion coursing through my head. At this point, I didn’t know if I was going to fall or peak. I didn’t know if I was on that precipice again or if I was soaring into a disposition much worse.
It was poetic if you thought about it. The pain and exhaustion was my kerosene to an unforeseen ember. He sighed, reaching my prodding eyes once again, “I’m just… I’m getting a headache from all this.”
“Spencer fucking Reid, ladies and gentlemen.” I brought my middle fingers under my eyes, wiping away the pain and grime. I shook my head, biting my bottom lip but not biting my tongue. Not this time. “All you can fucking say is that… you have a headache?” I scoffed. “Well you know what Dr. Reid-”
“Y/N, we’re not getting into this.” He began to cower away, brushing past me to get to the kitchen. Gently pushing me aside, he dared not to look back at my provoked visage.
“No, let me talk” I asserted.
“You can talk however the hell you like, y/n.” Spencer turned around, shrugging his shoulders like an odd air of indifference. His head was still in his clutch, explaining his lack of eye contact. “But I sure as hell won’t be listening to you.”
“Funny how I’m causing you a fucking headache cause your mouth is doing the same damn thing to-”
“Y/N…”
“GOD, can you let me speak!” I huffed, feeling an overpowering shock shoot through my resolve. Sparks fused with the blood in my veins and the adrenaline felt like battery acid. I guess I was soaring rather than falling.
“Y/N, I really don’t want to get into this…” His voice went suspiciously soft, although I knew better than to let that hinder my determination.
“Why don’t you see a doctor then?” I spat, unbeknownst to the animosity tied to my words. “You know what?! Why don’t you fuck them too, since you’re on a damn roll!”
The air changed the second those words rolled off my tongue, however, I was unfortunately unconscious to the great shift. Spencer’s hand left his temple, and his head slowly raised to reach my eyeline. He held a blank expression, but by the indistinguishable twitch in his cheek, I knew his nonchalant demeanor dissipated.
“You don’t know a damn thing,” he mumbled in intimacy, like he was reassuring himself. “Maybe I should see a doctor–MATTER of a fact, I am seeing one,” he nodded mockingly, his eyes lined in a penetrating glare.
My heart sank at his words; the ground below me decayed, seemingly unable to support the withered organ. However, if I had known that the world, myworld, would collapse with an unsettling phrase that would follow, maybe I would’ve preferred falling off that peak after all.
“But I’m not fucking anyone, y/n. I never did.” The words left him breathless and gritted with every syllable, although that didn’t take away from the pure abhorrence towards me.
“I’m sick… Are you satisfied now? My mind is slowly deteriorating, my mother’s illness is slowly killing me,” he cried, “an-and all you care about is yourself.” His face fell to the floor, hiding the blotchy redness invading his cheeks. “Frankly, with whatever lucidity I have remaining… I would rather spend it on anyone better thanyou…”
Chap Goh Mei (Last Day of the Lunar New Year) with Spencer [Imagine]
Happy Chap Goh Mei everyone!
- Last big family dinner before Winter Solstice family dinner in Decemeber
- Spencer had gotten used to the chopsticks (thank all the open houses from family and friends for the training)
- Grandma stills overfeeds Spencer, “He needs to eat more. He is too thin.” Proceeds to give him the nicest meat and veggies.
- After dinner, nieces and nephews wanted Spencer to do magic tricks.
- “Spencer *gor gor, please do some magic tricks for us please. You can ask Y/n *jie jie to help you”
(*gor gor/jie jie = how younger children address the older adults that are not married, in a relationship)
- “When are you two going to get married?” “Too soon Ma*, both Spencer and I are busy with work.”
(*Ma = 妈, how Chinese address their mothers and its also a slang, each family is different)
- 压岁钱 from grandma, but before she hands them to the both of you, “You two better give me great grand children soon.”
- Spencer learning different dialects to have better conversations with your aunts and uncles. And… To understand the names you called him when he is being his goofy self.And… To insult Morgan if he ever tease him again
- “Next time, we should have your mom to celebrate the lunar new year with us.” “I’m sure she and your mom would be planning our wedding if they ever meet.”
- Before leaving, grandma packed lots of left over food for the both of you.
- “I can’t wait for next year’s celebration.” “Oh really?” “What’s the worst could happen?”
*Some Fun facts: In Malaysia & Singapore, the last day of Lunar New Year is called Chap Goh Mei, its Hokkien(a dialect from China’s Fujian Province) which translate to Lantern Festival
How you and Spencer spend the first day (Chor yatt) of the Lunar New Year with your extended family (Imagine)
More Spencer Reid Imagines for celebrating Lunar New Year (Chinese New Year) Also an extension of the Lunar New Imagine I did previously.
- “Okay, just a quick reminder. My extended family’s a hyper bunch.” “I can take it. I’m an agent remember.”
- Boy, was Spencer wrong. By the time the both of you reached the main house; he was like deer in headlights at the amount of relatives, friends and family you have.
- Spencer was instantly loved by your elders - Grandaunts, Granduncles etc.
- Your younger cousins would find him awkward, but they are all smitten and awestrucked by his magic tricks.
- Spencer would also talk about random things and facts with your uncles, aunts that are back from overseas.
- During eating time, he would use forks and spoons. Don’t worry, you use it too so he won’t feel left out.
- Firecrackers would startle him a little if he is talking with your grandaunts or granduncles.
- Extra red packets (ang pao) from the elderly because he is a sweet guy.
- Kiasu (look up this slang) aunties would compete with you by comparing your cousin’s successes. But, your mom would just shut them down on both of your behalf by flexing his job (FBI agent), his credentials (3 PhDs, 3 BAs)
- “Your mom doesn’t have to do that. I’m very grateful for her, but she really doesn’t have to.” “Spence, my mom did that is because… She sees you as her son-in-law” “Oh… Ohhhhhhh… *whispers* but, I haven’t propose yet…”
- He would still beat your extended family in card games which both you and your mom just laugh it off.
- When the festive mood is cooling down, the both of you would sit by the swing at the patio reciting poems to one another.
- “This is the best lunar new year ever.” “By the way, once we are married. It’s our turn to give out red packets.”
How you and Spencer spend the first day (Chor yatt) of the Lunar New Year with your extended family (Imagine)
More Spencer Reid Imagines for celebrating Lunar New Year (Chinese New Year) Also an extension of the Lunar New Imagine I did previously.
- “Okay, just a quick reminder. My extended family’s a hyper bunch.” “I can take it. I’m an agent remember.”
- Boy, was Spencer wrong. By the time the both of you reached the main house; he was like deer in headlights at the amount of relatives, friends and family you have.
- Spencer was instantly loved by your elders - Grandaunts, Granduncles etc.
- Your younger cousins would find him awkward, but they are all smitten and awestrucked by his magic tricks.
- Spencer would also talk about random things and facts with your uncles, aunts that are back from overseas.
- During eating time, he would use forks and spoons. Don’t worry, you use it too so he won’t feel left out.
- Firecrackers would startle him a little if he is talking with your grandaunts or granduncles.
- Extra red packets (ang pao) from the elderly because he is a sweet guy.
- Kiasu (look up this slang) aunties would compete with you by comparing your cousin’s successes. But, your mom would just shut them down on both of your behalf by flexing his job (FBI agent), his credentials (3 PhDs, 3 BAs)
- “Your mom doesn’t have to do that. I’m very grateful for her, but she really doesn’t have to.” “Spence, my mom did that is because… She sees you as her son-in-law” “Oh… Ohhhhhhh… *whispers* but, I haven’t propose yet…”
- He would still beat your extended family in card games which both you and your mom just laugh it off.
- When the festive mood is cooling down, the both of you would sit by the swing at the patio reciting poems to one another.
- “This is the best lunar new year ever.” “By the way, once we are married. It’s our turn to give out red packets.”
Synopsis: For seven months Y/N, the newest team member of the BAU, has been missing, kidnapped by an unsub they were hunting. But when the search comes to an end, Spencer doesn’t know how to feel.
Sort of an AU!/ slight crossover with Bones
Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader
Genre: angst, fluff in the end
Warnings: mentions of kidnappings, torture, wounds, blood, stabbings, hospitals, minimal swearing (minimal proofreading), mentions of drug abuse/addiction
Wordcount: 5071
Seven months. For more than half a year, Y/N has been missing, and even still, Spencer blamed himself. How could he not? It was his dumb decision that’d led to her being captured by an unsub. It was his words or rather gestures of splitting up which’d led them to the situation at hand – one of BAU’s best agents and the woman he’d been in love with ever since they’d met MIA for seven months five days eight hours and thirty-nine minutes.
He remembered it so clearly; even if he didn’t have an eidetic memory, Spencer was convinced, he’d never be able to forget a single detail about when Y/N had entered his life.
It was her laugh he’d heard first, as she entered through the glass door, head thrown back, while another FBI agent walked alongside her. Spencer recognized him. Seely Booth. He was one of the most decorated agents in the whole bureau, but he worked on homicide cases with Dr Temperance Brennan from the Jeffersonian, not at the BAU, their paths hadn’t crossed even once.
The woman beside him, placed a hand on his bicep, a wide smile on her face, while Agent Booth placed one on the small of her back and gently lead her up the stairs and into Hotch’s office.
A presence sidled up to him.
“Any interesting observations you’d like to share, Dr Reid?” Emily asked, wiggling her brows. “Or do you just normally gape at women who walk inside the office like that?”
“Wha - I’m not gaping,” Spencer sputtered, which made Emily snort and point at him.
“Yeah, tell that to the flies in your mouth.”
He threw her a scornful gaze, but shut his mouth nevertheless, eyes flitting to where Hotch opened his door and greeted both agents with a handshake and small smile, which already said loads. Hotch never smiled.
“She’s transferring from the homicide department to here.” Emily sipped on her coffee.
JJ leaned forward, her shadow towering over his shoulder. “Not to be a gossip, but I read her file. She’s like Superwoman or something. Highest closed case rate in the bureau with Booth, youngest woman to ever make it into the FBI, and most confessions during the first set of interrogation.”
And that’s when it clicked – she was the Y/N Y/L/N. He’d read all about her, I mean, how could he not have? He’d just never looked up her picture for whatever reason, but Spencer was kind of happy he hadn’t, his reaction was bad enough. Had he previously known she’d look like someone he’d see in one of those high-end fashion magazines, he probably would’ve had a stroke.
He almost did when he noticed, her frame hovering by where the team had gathered around his desk, Penelope having arrived as well to talk to Derek, but both of their attentions were on the newest member of the team.
“What brings you to the BAU?” Emily sat down on the edge of Derek’s desk sipping on the last dregs of her coffee.
She shrugged. “I just needed a bit of a change. This one serial killer we caught took a few of my friends hostage before, but for the longest of times we couldn’t figure out the reasoning or who it was. Made me interested in the psychological part of it all, so when I heard there was an opening in the BAU, I asked if I could be transferred to the unit. And here I am.”
“Well, my gorgeous new friend,” Penelope touched Y/N’s bicep. “You’re gonna get a feel of how things go.” She looked at her iPad and motioned with her head to the conference room. “We’ve got a case.”
Instantly everyone was on their feet, Y/N taking two steps at a time on the stairs to meet Rossi who gave her a huge hug as if they’d known one another for ages.
“How’s the book coming along? Brennan left her computer open, and I snuck a peek.” She nudged the older man’s shoulder. “It’s pretty good from what I’ve read.”
Rossi let out a chuckle. “You are trouble.”
“No,” she smirked. “I’d just like to receive a signed copy before everyone else. How come Brennan did, and I didn’t?”
Rossi raised a brow. “Because we reviewed each other’s books?”
Y/N crossed her arms. “Well, I am offended. I thought I was your favorite.”
He raised his hands as if in defeat. “Fine, fine. I’ll talk to the publisher.”
“Thank you.” She said in unaltered satisfaction. “Bookshelf is running low on space, but I can’t have my Rossi collection incomplete.”
They were almost by the doors when Spencer finally gathered up the courage and cleared his throat, Y/E/C eyes boring into his.
“I’m Spencer.” He gave her a shy smile, to which Y/N responded with a bright “nice to meet you” and slowed her steps to match his pace instead of Rossi’s. She didn’t reach out to him, rather let him set the pace. Instantly, he liked her. “Did you know on average a person has 12 different jobs and that’s only in the span of 32 years?”
Y/N sighed, looking at him dreamily as she took a seat next to him around the table. “It’s like I never left them.”
Spencer blushed under her gaze, but his brows furrowed. “Never left who?” “The squints from the Jeffersonian. You’re exactly like them. It’s like I’m home already.” She rested her hand on her palm. “You even have the same lexicon. It’s amazing.”
Emily poked Spencer’s cheek, which made him swat at her fingers. “I always thought they made them so lifelike.”
“Trust me,” Y/N snorted wiping open the tablet and looking over the pictures of the case. “This one time we got exposed to some chemical in the lab during Christmas and we couldn’t leave and I insisted on watching how they got their blood drawn because I didn’t believe they weren’t synthetic or something.”
That was the first of many cases they had together. If Spencer had known three years down the line, he’d be responsible for her kidnapping, he wasn’t sure he would’ve allowed his heart to fall in love with her.
***
She’s always hated running. Hated it with a passion. The only reason Y/N ever went to Derek’s drills was because, without them, she’d never in a million years pass her physical. As a child, her motto about running had been – if you see me running, you should start too because something’s chasing me, as there was no real reason of planet earth anyone would do this to themselves for pleasure.
But now her bare feet are slapping against the road with quick thuds, her legs numb from the exertion and movements more mechanical at that point than anything else. Y/N’s lungs are burning, begging for her to pull in a proper breath filled with oxygen, but there is no time, no matter if her right side is screaming in pain. It just blended in with the rest of it.
As her heartbeat echoed in her ears, it rhythmically reminded her she couldn’t stop. Not then. Not when it wasn’t safe yet. For the first month she hoped her team would find her, they always had a strategy, but as days trickled by, she knew it’d be up to her.
Y/N didn’t blame them. The unsub was smart. He constantly moved around, but not so rapidly it’d cause suspicion. She didn’t blame anyone but herself really for being blindsided like that. But if there was one advantage, no matter how horrible, it was that he was in it for the long run. He’d kept his victims sometimes up to two years, so all she had to do was play along and hopefully get away before he lost interest in her.
When they’d gone to raid the suspected place of captivity, there was still the question as to why he’d do that. Why risk it? Now Y/N knew by heart. Every time her face came on screen, her team pleading for any sort of information, he’d make her watch the press release where JJ stood by the microphone, barely contained sorrow in her voice. As long as her team, as long as the people who loved the victims had hope, he’d keep them alive. He fed on their pain, knowing he had all the power to end the suffering.
But once the media attention died down, once fewer and fewer posters appeared around the area, and then when finally, the case was deemed cold he’d get rid of them. And as the FBI had only released two calls for help to find her in the past month, Y/N her time was dwindling. Despite her being a federal agent and no doubt giving him the biggest ego boost he’d had in ages, she had to make her escape then and there if she didn’t want her picture next to the other deceased women. If anything, she owed them to escape and get that asshole behind bars for the rest of his life.
The unsub had a routine he rarely stepped away from, and in that routine, there was an hour gap where he’d go to the grocery store every Thursday evening from seven till eight, locking her in the pantry he’d transformed in a cell.
That night, when she’d heard the door click closed Y/N took out two paper clips she’d hidden under her tongue and picked the lock. It wasn’t her quickest work by any means, hands trembling as seconds slipped through her fingers, but then the door was open. There was still the matter of the bindings around her hands and feet, but she rushed for the kitchen where she grabbed the sharpest knife possible and sliced through them like they were nothing. She even cut her wrist in the process but the adrenaline coursing through her veins masked the pain.
The outside doors were locked, and Y/N didn’t want to risk losing more time, so she unlatched the window at the furthest corner of the house so it took him longer to notice she was gone, not caring about the strands of hair that fell off the sill – his method to see if anyone’s come or gone – and then she just ran.
Turning left Y/N ran along the edge of the woods but didn’t dare move closer to the highway yet. She’d listened to how the wheels of his car would turn which way, and took the same route, just out of the line of sight. It might seem stupid to run towards the direction where her captor was, but it meant that the town was closer, help was closer. And now, she at least had a knife with her.
Every time car lights flashed in the distance, Y/N dropped to the ground, waiting until they were out of the line of sight before sprinting again. Her feet were raw, pine needles, branches, twigs, thorns and everything in between tearing her skin apart, but she couldn’t stop now. Not when in the near distance, maybe four miles away she saw the clustered lights of a town.
Those last miles felt like a blur as she stammered her way through alleys and along desolated pavements so there was less of a chance of being noticed by the unsub if he was still in town. Probably not. He was most likely already back at the house, either frantically packing to leave everything behind, or raging about her escape as he devised whether he should search for her or for a new victim.
As Y/N dragged her ragged body along an abandoned warehouse, the illuminated box of a telephone booth came in view. A strangled sob of relief escaped her as she stumbled to it and clutched onto the received, trembling fingers pressing 911.
Two beeps echoed in her ears before a voice crackled to life. “911 what’s your emergency?”
“Agent Y/L/N,” Y/N wheezed out, clutching her side. “Badge number 627436 of the FBI Behavior Analysis Unit.” It was getting harder and harder to speak and when she looked down, she saw she was bleeding, more and more blood pouring out from the wound. It was a souvenir the unsub gave her a couple of weeks prior for ‘disobedience’, but he’d stitched her up afterwards. Her running must’ve ripped the stitches. “I was held captive by an unknown assailant, but I have managed to get away. I’ve been stabbed.” It was scary how easy it was to say those words like it wasn’t a potentially life-changing thing. “Please send help to this payphone. Please.” The last bit was a whimper as she slumped against the pole. “Please help.”
***
Garcia, dressed in her usual bright garb was holding an octopus mug in one hand, a stack of files in the other, as she went to Spencer’s desk and plopped then unceremoniously onto it.
He lifted his head up from where he’d rested it in his palm, eyes staring at the wall. “What’s this?”
“This, dear genius of mine, is a stack of cases where you need to rewrite your reports.”
“What? Why?”
“Why?” Penelope matched his tone. “Uh because even my advanced technology cannot decipher those hieroglyphics, so unless you can plug in your brain to my computer like some alive version of Rosetta Stone, you’ll rewrite them. I need to properly scan them into the cloud.”
Spencer sighed, grumbling, “this is how paper is going to stop existing.”
“We’re just saving the trees, sweets. Saving the trees.” Penelope smiled at him, patting his shoulder. “Besides, you’ll need to come out of the dark ages at some point.”
“Thank you, but no,” Spencer muttered, opening the first file and seeing that Penelope might have a point, his scribbles eluding his own mind as to what was meant. “Give me an hour, and I’ll leave them on your desk.”
“Sure thing.” The word was one filled with empathy and sorrow.
Spencer had gone through a lot. He’d lost his mentor, been an addict, had watched the woman he’d fallen for be killed right in front of his eyes, he’d even gone to prison for things he hadn’t done, but the guilt of being the responsible one, in his own mind, for the kidnapping of one of their teammates was eating at him like acid, slowly corroding his body and mind.
During the second month of her disappearance, it’d gotten so bad, he almost relapsed, finding a vial of Dilaudid and almost taking it, but Y/N’s firm yet gentle voice echoed in his mind. “We’re stronger than our demons, Spencer,” she’d whispered in his ear. They were on a case involving former addicts being killed by the substance they’d overcome, and it just hit too close to home. She’d heard him pace around his hotel room, their suites placed right next to him. When he opened the door, seeing Y/N there, he broke pretty much immediately.
“I’m scared I’m not.” He replied, head gently laying on her chest, listening to her steady heartbeat.
Y/N shook her head and ran her hand through his tresses. “You are. The fact that you’re here talking about it proves it. But you don’t have to go through this alone. You never will as long as you don’t shut yourself out. We’re a family. We take care of our own.
It was Penelope gasping which made him look up at the woman and pushed him back into the current reality.
Derek stood from where he was sitting by his desk doing some paperwork, brows furrowed, a concerned hand going to Penelope’s shoulder. “What it is?”
“It - it’s - it’s - her,” she stammered out, ripping her eyes up to meet his brown ones, her gaze absolutely wild. “It’s Y/N. They got her. I – I put up software on all my phones and computers to notify me if anyone searches or uses information on Y/N. A police patrol in Texas just picked up a woman claiming to be her. They’re taking her to the hospital.”
“Are you sure?” their fellow agent threw Spencer a cautious glance, knowing what sort of thoughts must be racing through his head. “How do we know it’s not some crazy using her name to stir up some publicity?”
“Nuhu.” A smile was starting to appear on Penelope’s face, a hopeful tear-filled smile. “It’s her. She used her badge number to identify herself.”
When Hotch rushed out of his office phone to his ear, practically sprinting to Rossi’s office, Spencer knew he wasn’t hallucinating. It was real. She was finally found.
He thought he’d be the only jittery one as the team made their swift way to the plane, but even their usually stoic and collected chief of unit couldn’t properly sit still for more than five minutes at a time. Millions of questions were floating through their minds, but all Spencer could think about was if Y/N even wanted to see him after all of it.
Spencer knew he was being selfish, by turning this whole thing against him, but the genius couldn’t help himself. If he hadn’t made that decision to split up instead of having her back, Y/N wouldn’t have gotten in such a vulnerable situation where it was taken advantage of. For seven months his body was wracked by guilt, almost to the point of relapse, and now it was crashing down with the force of a mountain.
“Reid, I want you and Rossi to go to the station and interview any witnesses the police have got,” Hotch’s voice pulled him out of the pity party he was throwing himself. “Maybe someone saw something that could help us narrow down the search while she’s out of commission.”
“What? Why?” His brows furrowed. “I want to see Y/N.” How the hell could they ask something like that of him?
“And you will.” His boss promised. “But first I need you to be as collected as possible before going to her.”
Spencer was shocked. “How can you say that? How can you expect any of us to be collected after what’s happened?”
“We need to follow the protocol,” Hotch spoke, but Spencer wasn’t having any of it.
“No!” He stood up from his seat. “Why are we treating this as a normal case? It’s not! This is Y/N we’re talking about my – our Y/N,” he corrected himself, but was 100% sure the slip didn’t pass anyone by, “but you’re going to treat her like some regular case?”
“Spence,” JJ’s calm tone made him snap his gaze to her. “We’re not treating it like a usual thing. But she is a victim of this unsub. And we still need to find him. Don’t you think Y/N deserves that?”
“Of course, she does,” he whispered, sitting back down in his seat, all the fight he had in his body, leaving at JJ’s rational words.
Derek’s reassuring palm took hold of his shoulder. “Then let us interview her, so you don’t have to.”
He couldn’t argue with that. One of the worst things, when all his best friends were profilers, was that no matter how much he tried to hide his emotions, they could read him as easily as he read one of this many books. Spencer wouldn’t be able to act around her as if she was a survivor of a deranged unsub. He’d probably crumble when he’d see her, and that wouldn’t help anyone, let alone Y/N.
“Alright.” He nodded looking at Hotch. “Okay, yeah… you’re probably right. I just – I.”
Rossi put a hand on his shoulder, squeezing it. “We know kid. We know.”
***
Y/N woke up confused and disorientated, the lights in the space dimmed with an annoying beeping invading her ears. The last thing she remembered was sirens wailing in the distance as they came closer and closer before black engulfed her.
She sort of wished, she could pass out again because the adrenaline had finally exited her system and boy, oh boy, was her body in pain. Not only did Y/N feel where the stitches had snapped open in her abdomen, but the rawness of her feet, the bruising all over her chest and thighs, not to mention the royal headache she sported. All in all, Y/N felt like a battered football, but she couldn’t fall asleep when her eyes befell on two familiar faces, she never thought she’d see again.
“I know that look,” she teased, glancing over at Hotch, who despite his usual stoic stature couldn’t contain the small smile. “That’s the look that says ‘you’re in for it.”
“You are,” he chuckled, a widely grinning Derek entering her hospital suite after him.
“Big-time,” Derek chimed in, sitting down on the end of Y/N’s bed and placing a hand on her calf. “You made us miss you a lot. Should be terrified about the ‘welcome back’ party Penelope no doubt will be planning.”
If Y/N’s eyes didn’t hurt, she would’ve rolled them. “Well, I’d say that would be very much so against doctor’s orders. No strenuous activities, no alcohol,” that part she grumbled out. “Nothing that could cause heightened moments of stress.”
“Well, your chart,” Hotch sat down on the free chair by her bed. “Is longer than one of Rossi’s recipes.”
Y/N snorted. “Can’t wait for my psych eval.”
“All that can wait.” Hotch took her hand in his, and only then did it click for Y/N that he was really there. She was safe, two police officers stationed by the entrance to the door. Her team was there for her, and soon enough she’d be going home.
At that realization, tears threatened to take over, her breathing becoming a bit laboured and her heart rate spiked, while Derek whispered “it’s okay. Take your time,” to her.
“If you are up for it though,” Hotch started once Y/N had gotten a bit of a grip over her emotions. “We would like to ask some of the basic questions.” She knew it probably would come to it, but it was hard mentally to wrap her mind around the fact she now was a victim. Y/N often wondered how the survivors of such occasions could answer their inquiries. It seemed ridiculous – they went through probably the biggest traumas of their lives, yet there they were – the BAU team asking them to go back to the scene where their lives were torn apart and talk about it as if it was the weather.
“Alright.” Y/N took in a settling breath and looked at Hotch. “Let’s do this.” It wasn’t a long questioning, but it still took a lot of willpower to not break down in front of her two colleagues. She knew they’d never judge her, but it would take up a lot of precious time they could use to catch her captor, so with all of her strength Y/N powered through the questions she had asked hundreds of times before, but being on the responding end was tougher than she ever thought.
“Do you have a name?” Hotch finally ended the questioning and closed his notepad.
“No,” Y/N shook her head, a small thread of shame rippling through her body. “He was very careful. He never left any IDs around, there were no personal pictures or anything engraved in his jewellery or watch. I couldn’t get my hands on any receipts that would have a credit card, nor were there any prescription drugs or papers. But I can talk to a sketch artist.” She nodded. “I can definitely do that.”
“Okay.” Hotch smiled and gently squeezed her palm. “But not right now. You need to rest.”
Y/N was about to protest, but seeing the withering gazes both men were giving her, she shrunk back in her pillows with a pout, muttering a small, “yes, sir.”
Before they could disappear to the police station Y/N called out to Hotch. “Could you – I – if you see Spencer can you please tell him I’d like to see him?”
She wasn’t stupid. Throughout all of it, she knew the genius was probably beating himself up for what had happened. He had a knack for blaming himself for situations that were out of his hands, and she suspected everyone else probably had something to do with his absence at the side of her hospital bed. It was probably for the best, otherwise, she wouldn’t be consolable for quite a while. Not to say that Y/N didn’t care for the rest of the team, but she most certainly wasn’t harboring hidden love from them unlike she did for Spencer.
Hotch let out a small laugh. “I think if we try to keep him away any longer than we already have, he’ll break in here on his own.”
Y/N smiled and nodded, satisfied with that. In any case, if they did try to keep her away from Spencer, she’d break out of the hospital on her own. She’d just done it to an unsub. She could do it again to get to the one who held her heart.
***
The questioning at the police station were the two most nerve-wracking hours of Spencer’s life, and the second he saw Hotch and Derek walk in through the station’s door, he jumped up from his seat and sprinted out to the car. No one tried to even stop him.
Now though he watched her from afar like she was a mirage, terrified if he made one wrong move, she’d waver and vanish right before he got to the oasis. But as Spencer stepped inside her room, Y/N was still in the bed, steadily breathing as her eyes shot back and for the behind her lids, no doubt immersed in some dream. Spencer only hoped it wasn’t a nightmare.
“You know staring while someone is sleeping is creepy whether or not you’re a psychopath.” Y/N shifted in her bed and took in a large breath and opened her eyes to look at a hovering Spencer who shifted on his feet. The woman furrowed her brows giving him a critical look. “How long haven’t you slept?”
“Exaggerated terms? Seven months five days thirteen hours and twenty-three minutes,” he let out a choked back breath and sniffled. “Y/N, I’m so –,” but he didn’t get a chance to apologize when she shook her head.
“None of that. No.”
“But had I not said to split up –”
“Something along the same lines would’ve probably happened,” Y/N said, her tone leaving no room for argument. “It wasn’t your fault. It was no one’s fault but the unsub’s who you will catch, and then he’ll rot in a solitary cell never seeing the sun for the rest of his life, okay?”
She could see Spencer wanted to argue, wanted to apologize evident by the tears rimming his eyes, but he didn’t seem to have energy left, as he nodded, wiping his cheek with his palm. “Is there uh – anything I can get you? I think they still had some jello around if Morgan didn’t eat everything.”
Y/N snorted and shook her head. “No, I don’t need anything. Well, actually I do, but it’s not something you can bring, but rather something you can do.”
“Anything,” came Spencer’s immediate response.
She extended a hand towards him. “Lay with me. Please.”
“I shouldn’t.” Despite his response, his palm slid into Y/N’s, and nothing had ever felt that good. Calloused and covered in scabs, but warm and sure in his. “I looked over your medical and –”
“And you will have a lot worse if you don’t comply.” She raised her brow at him, not caring about the butterfly band-aid that covered a slash on her forehead. “Hey, I was the kidnapped one. You can’t say no to anything I demand.
“Are you – are you blackmailing me with your own kidnapping?”
“Yes, I am.”
The two stared at one another for a while, but it was a no-brainer Spencer would give in. He toed off his shoes neatly placing them under the chair next to her bed and removed his satchel and jacket from his shoulders, gently laying down in the freed space Y/N had given him. Instantly, her body curled against his, Spencer’s arms weaving around her waist, wary of her wounds, but grip tight.
Her frame against his was a pressing weight on his chest, but a good kind of pressing. The soft kind, gentle kind, reassuring kind – she was there, breathing, heart beating steadily and matching his own pace.
Spencer didn’t sleep that night after she quickly drifted off once in his embrace, too filled with anxiety and worries about Y/N vanishing. He’d always been afraid he’d get to a point where he’d forget his loved ones, and now he was terrified the woman soundly sleeping next to him was a hallucination. So, he kept vigil by her side, making sure nothing would disturb her.
And when she woke up in the morning, Y/E/C eyes staring into his, damned be all, he leaned down to kiss her. He almost lost the chance to ever do it. It didn’t hurt that she kissed him back with the same amount of vigor.
“Please don’t ever leave me,” he whispered, resting his forehead to Y/N’s.
“Spencer, I went through hell and back this past half-year.” She kissed him once more. “Not even that could keep me away. You’re stuck with me.”
But still, that fear rippled through him, gnawing at his edges. “For how long?”
Y/N nudged her nose against his. “For however long you want me to.”
“And.” He swallowed hard, a soft hand rising underneath her hospital gown to settle on the bare skin of her back. He needed to feel her. “And if I ask for your forever?”
“Then I’ll stay as long as my heart beats in my chest.”
“Okay.” He nodded, pecking her mouth. “Okay.”
Y/N raised an eyebrow. “Yeah?”
“Yeah, that should do it.”
And then she laughed, allowing Spencer to finally hear one of his favorite sounds in the world after such a long time of absence. “Well, I hope so.”
He was just about to kiss her again when two high pitched squeals coming from JJ and Emily interrupted their moment. Spencer couldn’t even be mad at them, as he watched how Y/N practically lit up, finally being embraced by her family after such a long time away from them.
